Author Archives: Nicola Cameron
Look what arrived in the mail today!
I stepped out to check on a storm in the distance, and found a storm on my own doorstep! The back has a blurb from The TBR Pile and the standard description of the story, and it all looks so great! Even better, I’m having lunch tomorrow with the woman who’s in the dedication so I can give her a print copy of her very own. Hmm — I’ve never autographed an erotic romance before. Better come up with something clever toot sweet.
In other news, Breaker Zone and “The Art of Grant Management” continue apace — I’m hoping to have the short story finished and submitted to the Executive Assistant antho by Monday, and I’m really pleased with the way I’m revamping Breaker Zone. In a way, having to take such a detour on it has been a good thing because it’s made me look at the three leads more closely and adjust their personalities in a more realistic fashion.
Luckily that won’t be necessary for Book Three (tentatively titled Deep Water), since the main characters in that one will be Poseidon (yes, the big man gets his own book), his consort Amphitrite, and someone who is going to turn out to have a very interesting past relationship with both of them. I hope people don’t mind that 1) I’m changing lead characters with each book, although Ian, Aphros, and Bythos will play a major role in each book, and 2) not all of the books will be M/M/M. Only the first two will be M/M/M — Book Three will be M/M/F, Book Four M/M/M/F/F (yeah, that’s gonna be interesting), Book Five M/M/F, and Book Six M/F. It’s just the way the story is working out in my head.
Mid Week Tease: The Art of Grant Management #MWTease #MidWeekTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from my current WIP, a M/M contemporary story set in a medical research center that I will hopefully be submitting to Evernight’s Executive Assistant antho call sometime this week. I always knew that those years of managing research grants would finally come in handy!
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
###
Peter pushed the Men’s Room door open, ready to argue. “I do not appreciate being ignored when you’re the one–” he started.
Then stopped. Quincy stood topless at one of the sinks, angrily scrubbing at a large red stain on his shirt. Half-naked, the short man was disconcertingly muscular, with broad shoulders and lean, well-defined arms.
But it was his torso that was truly a thing of beauty. Peter’s mouth abruptly went dry as he studied the delineation of muscle, ligament, and bone that made up John Quincy’s midsection. Oh, damn me. That’s just not fair.
The administrative assistant looked up and spotted him. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” he grumbled. “Ursula ran right into me and splashed this shit all over my shirt. And it reeks.”
“Oh.” Peter took a tentative sniff, and winced. “Fixative, I believe. You won’t be able to get it out of a white shirt.”
Quincy scowled, holding up the soaking shirt. A pale pink stain was still very obvious across the chest. “Goddamn it. I liked this shirt, too.”
He started wringing out the fabric, muttering under his breath. The motion did wonderful things to his obliques, and Peter had a sudden vision of stepping closer and pressing his lips to one pale shoulder, tasting smooth skin and salt. Trailing down across the firm curve of a pectoral muscle, listening to Quincy’s soft, questioning moan as he mouthed a nipple, then moving to the low valley between pectorals, a fine line of dark hair prickling against his lips as he kissed his way down–
He realized Quincy had stopped wringing and was staring at him. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“Uh, no. But you’re, um … you’re looking at me.” Quincy glanced down at his chest, then at his reflection in the mirrors over the sinks. “Did I miss some of that crap?
“No. It’s just … I wasn’t expecting you to be so…”
The other man raised an eyebrow, obviously expecting one of Peter’s usual insults. “Pale?” he snarked. “Freckled? You already knew I was a runt, so that can’t come as a surprise.”
“Muscular. You’re muscular,” Peter managed. Christ, you’re gorgeous. Bernini would have been reaching for a hammer and chisel by this point.
“Oh.” Quincy’s brows lowered in surprise, and for a moment Peter panicked that he’d said it out loud. “Uh. Yeah, well, when you’re 5’6” and mouthy, you learn to hit the gym if you don’t want to get the shit kicked out of you.”
“I see.” Peter let his gaze trail down, to the lovely V-shaped crease of the inguinal ligaments. It was one of his favorite spots on the male body, and Quincy’s ligaments were beautifully defined. Unable to resist, he studied how they disappeared under the man’s waistband, a natural pathway to the groin and– Oh.
To his shock, he saw Quincy was slightly tumescent, the outline of what looked like a very respectable cock just pressing against the twill fabric. With an effort, he dragged his attention away from the mouthwatering bulge, back to Quincy’s face. It was flushed, and the man’s dark green irises had shrunk to a thin line, almost disappearing next to the wide-open pupil. A faint blue line in his throat pulsed to an accelerated beat, and his chest rose and fell more rapidly now, pale nipples tightening and turning into tiny rivets.
Pupillary dilation. Flushed skin, increased respiration and heartbeat. Erectile response. The unconscious reflexes of physical attraction. Peter felt a rush of elation sizzle through him. He wants me. Oh, God. He actually wants me.
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Happy April 1st!
Well, it took me a week but by gum I did it — I got the taxes done and off to the accountant (yes, we use an accountant — between my multiple income streams and Ramón’s job, it makes much more sense for us to let a professional crunch the numbers for us), finished four covers and sent them off to their respective publishers, helped a former web design client move all his stuff to a new system, got the latest podcast episode up and out, and even upgraded my laptop to Mavericks. All of this by today as planned. I rule.
Now, all I have left to do today is add 3K to Breaker Zone, add some more wordage to the short story I’m submitting to Evernight’s Executive Asssistant anthology, do my hour in the gym, and wash clothes so that I’ll have something clean to wear tomorrow, and then I can … um, pretty much go to sleep, I guess. Never mind — I’ll have some free time tomorrow.
Oh, and I need to eat. I keep forgetting to eat. I’m not tooting my own horn here — I’m an idiot about it who gets wrapped up in a project, and doesn’t realize until 12 hours later that I’m practically crippled and my stomach is screaming at me.
On a closing note for all you poets out there who enjoy the bawdier side of the art form, the inimitable Colby Keller and his peripatetic partner Karl Marxxx are hosting a Big Shoe Diaries Poetry Contest (NSFW) to honor April as National Poetry Month. Head on over there to find out all the details and see Colby read Robert Burns’s poem “Nine Inch Will Please a Lady” in an amazingly good (and astoundingly sexy) Scottish accent.
Nicola’s Sunday Shoutout: Doris O’Connor
Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to the magnificent Doris O’Connor, whose gorgeously hot new book Through the Dom’s Lens is now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. And now, here’s Doris!
Thanks so much for having me here today.
I read an interesting article recently, about what Men really see when they look at you, and you could sum it up as such.
Whatever you don’t like about yourself, chances are your man loves it, because it makes you unique. Add to that my gran’s saying that men want something to hold onto when they fuck…(yes, she really did say that to me, when I was modelling back in Germany and starving myself to be skinny)… and I do wonder why so many of us struggle to just accept what and who we are.
Sure, there will be men who prefer skinny women, just like there will be men who prefer curvy ones, and plenty of other themes in-between. We all have a type we go for, after all.
Here comes another saying from my dear gran. For every pot there is a lid. In other words there’s someone out there for everyone. Sometimes you just need to kiss some frogs before you find your prince.
Now, in Sally’s case she kissed one rather ugly frog that made her not only wary of men, but means she hates her picture taken. Add to that the fact that she really wants to experience the lifestyle, and it narrows the field even more.
So, when her sister asks her to step in for her at this photo shoot, she can’t resist temptation, even though she is full of self-doubt and apprehension.
It falls to Master J to convince her that she is exactly who he’s been looking for…
Sometimes doing a favor can change your life forever.
Never one to rate her curves, Sally thinks her glamorous sister has lost the plot. Stand in for her at a photo shoot with the most sought after bondage photographer ever?
She’ll be laughed out of the studio, or arrested, or both. However, the temptation to actually meet the man she’s been secretly lusting after for months proves too hard to resist.
Junsako cannot believe his eyes, when Sally turns up. It’s been a long time since the Dom in him felt such an instant pull to anyone. All those curves will look beautiful in Shibari suspension, and Sally proves to be a born submissive. If only she would let go of her body issues and see the beautiful woman he sees through his lens.
Only one thing to do—convince her—with as much kinky sex as possible.
Story Excerpt
“I want you to do something for me, pet. I want you to close your eyes and remember that feeling.”
She frowned at him, but her eyes fluttered shut and after a while she smiled.
“Good, you’re there in your mind?”
“Yes, Sir, I think so.”
“Good girl, now open your eyes and look at the screen again.” She tensed immediately and her smile slipped, but she did open her eyes and glanced at the screen. He’d changed the image to a slide of the process of her being bound. The first one showed her stood in front of him, looking nervous as hell, and she tensed even more when she saw it.
“What do you see, pet? Truly look at the picture, past the body, concentrate on your facial expression and remember how you felt.”
She bit her lip, and her nose screwed up in concentration, but eventually she answered him.
“I was nervous…” she glanced at him and then continued in a whisper, “and turned on.”
“Good girl, now the next picture. What do you see?”
In this shot she was half in her chest harness and blindfold, and Junsako hardened as he, too, remembered the heady thrill of binding her soft flesh in the rope. The picture didn’t do the eroticism of the art justice. In his mind’s eye, however, he heard her soft sighs and mewls, he felt the rope slide through his fingers and mark her skin, as she sank further into that blissful state of submission.
Sally remembered it, too, if her increased breathing and the dampness seeping through his sweat pants were any indication. He didn’t say anything else, afraid to break the moment, just continued to bring up picture after picture, until she wriggled on his lap, and he was hard enough to pound concrete again.
By the time they were back at the picture he intended to use, tears were falling down Sally’s cheeks, but she was smiling this time.
“Thank you, Sir, for helping me remember what it felt like. I still see a fat woman, though. I know I’m not skinny and … oh.”
The breath whooshed out of her lungs when he stood up with her and flung her over his shoulder. It was a matter of moments to cross the distance to his bedroom, and Sally shrieked when he threw her on the bed face down.
Before she had even stopped bouncing he grabbed her ankles and yanked her down until her ass hung over the edge with her knees on the floor. He kicked her legs apart, and took a moment to admire the view in front of him. With a flick of the remote he turned on the ceiling spotlights. The soft lighting illuminated Sally’s shapely ass. With her legs spread wide, he had a perfect view of her glistening pussy. Her cunt got wetter the longer he just stood there and watched her, and when she tried to push herself up on her elbows he urged her back down on the bed with his hand flat on the small of her back.
“Stay still, pet. It amuses me to watch you like this. You have the most perfect ass, my love. It will look even more beautiful when it’s pink from my hand.”
Sally whimpered, and more of her juices slipped out of her clenching hole.
“I’m going to spank that ass now, and then I’m going to fuck it. My little pet will like that, I think. Give me a color, pet.”
****
Sally’s heart beat so fast in her ears she was sure she’d have fallen to the floor had she not been lying down already. Junsako’s dirty words made her so wet her juices were sliding down her inner thighs, and she found it difficult to concentrate on his words.
An open handed spank to her left ass cheek stung, and before she could open her mouth another one followed to the right side this time.
“I asked you a question, pet. What color are you?”
“Gr-green.” She murmured the words into the cover, as he dug his fingernails into her tender skin and grabbed a generous handful. That should have mortified her, but somehow it didn’t.
“I can’t hear you, pet.”
His strained voice soothed her concerns. He sounded like a man aroused, and it gave her an enormous thrill that he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him.
“Green, Sir. I’m so green. Please don’t stop. I—”
The next spank set her ass on fire and sent her further up the bed, until her hips dug into the edge. It was padded, with little hard nobbles, and just the right height to stimulate her clit, as she discovered with the next few well-placed open handed swats from his hands. He hit a different spot on her ass every time, and with the added stimulation from the torture devices attached to the side, she was close to coming in record time.
Higher and higher she flew until time lost all meaning, and all that mattered was the breathtaking pause before he spanked her again. When he finally stopped heat radiated from her ass all over her body in rolling waves of bliss, and she ground herself against the edge. So close, she was so damn close.
Junsako grabbed her hips and pulled her away from the bed, and Sally whined her protest.
He kissed her shoulder, and chuckled into her neck, as his whole body seemed to engulf her. His hard cock nestled in the cleft of her ass, and he delivered little bites along her back, parallel to her spine. Every sharp sting made her moan, interspersed as it was by his murmured words.
“So beautiful, my pet. This luscious body belongs to me, and you will not come without my permission, will you, pet?”
PLUS: Check out a Bonus Scene from this story here on Doris’s blog.
Where To Buy
Evernight Publishing
Amazon
Amazon UK
Bookstrand
All Romance E-books
About Doris O’Connor
Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris… at least that’s what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.
There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.
She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.
Where to find Doris O’Connor
Website
Blog
Twitter
Facebook
Pinterest
Evernight Publishing
Amazon
All Romance E-books
Bookstrand
So I’m sitting here crying
I’m of an age where seeing my work in print is still very important to me. I love and am very grateful for e-publishing, don’t get me wrong — it’s a totally awesome publication avenue, and I take advantage of it all the time. That being said, as a writer born in the 1960s there’s still a part of me that wants to see a book in my hot little hands with my name on it in order to feel fully validated. When my first shared novel came out, I wanted to dance around Dallas in utter glee, waving it over my head like a flag, and immediately added it to my book shelf that held various anthologies with my short stories.
So when I published my first standalone novel Storm Season with Evernight last year, I was immensely proud. But there was also a tiny twinge that it would never be tangible, printed words on a page with my writing name on the cover that I could put on my bookshelf. Oh, I knew there was a chance that Evernight might add it to their print collection if it sold well enough, but it was my freshman novel, no one really knew me, and so I put it out of my mind and just concentrated on writing more stories and becoming the best damn writer I could be.
And then, this morning, I opened my email and saw something from Evernight with PRINT in the Subject line. I tell you, I felt like my heart stopped for a moment. Part of me was scared to open it, thinking that it couldn’t be what I thought it was. I was scared to hope, silly as that sounds.
But I opened it. And started crying when I read, “Your book Storm Season is now available in our print store…”
So, yeah, Storm Season is now a print book. It’s currently available directly from Evernight via CreateSpace, but will be available at Amazon in a week and other online booksellers in 6-8 weeks. I’m not saying this so that anyone feels like they have to buy it — I figure anyone who enjoys this particular genre already bought it as an ebook.
But damn. My first novel is now in print. And so, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go flail like a Muppet around the house for the next hour or so.
Cut-ting and pa-sting, cut-ting and pa-sting…
Want to know the easiest way to drive a creative person crazy? Make them do a dull, repetitive activity for hours. They’ll be gibbering in no time. I remember how my ex-boss at the major telecommunications company talked me into coming back for a short-term contract back in 2012 — I got to the office, and was handed PowerPoint docs to fill with cutting and pasting from other docs, the exact same thing that drove me utterly crazy about the job in the first place. Came home, burst into tears, called him that night and told him I couldn’t come back. Luckily he understood.
That being said, two more hours and I have my hotel for my upcoming Baltimore trip all paid for, so I suppose I’ll just shut up, cut and paste. Crap. I still have to do the taxes tonight, too. Hello, darkness, my old friend…
That being said, there is good news on the way. Once I have confirmation, I’ll post it here, promise. And I started work on Breaker Zone again, and frankly I’m glad I took the break I did because hoo boy, I’d say a good 50% of the 27K I already have written has got to go. I’ve completely redone Nick’s and Aidan’s characterization in my head and that’s going to require a different (and better, hopefully) approach to the story. Which is fine, live and learn, yadda yadda, but it always kind hurts to cut wordage. Needs must, however, and while my goal is to have it finished by the end of April, I also know what happens when I announce goals, so — sometime this spring? I’ll get started immediately on Book Three in the series after that.
And yes, I’m working concurrently on Behind the Iron Cross, because I’m insane that way. This is the one I’m sending off to an agent (it seems like all my friends are getting one, so I figure why not), so it’s got to be polished until it shines like the top of the Chrysler Building. And I just outed my age with that comment, didn’t I? Oh, well. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Gramma has to take her Geritol and get back to work.
(On a completely separate tangent, apropos of nothing, I wonder if Charlie Day knows how much slash is being written about Newton and Hermann from Pacific Rim? Burn Gorman is probably used to it by now from Torchwood, but I think this may be a new thing for Mr. Day.)
Mid Week Tease: Breaker Zone #MWTease #MidWeekTease
Happy Hump Day! Now that Two to Tango has finally been submitted, I’ve gone back to work on Book Two in the Olympic Cove series, Breaker Zone. Here’s the opening scene of the book.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
When Dr. Nick Gardiner goes on the run from a psychotic ex and ends up at Olympic Cove, the last thing he expects to find is his friend Ian living with two redheaded demigods and learning how to be a storm god. Adding to the confusion is a wounded merman named Aidan who washes up in the cove, requiring Nick’s professional help. As it turns out, the handsome mer and his partner Liam have other plans for the ER doctor — to claim him as their agapetos, their destined mate, and fulfill his need to submit.
A chance encounter at a local junk shop reveals that Nick has his own role to play in the battle against the insane Nereid Thetis. Under the reluctant mentorship of Chiron, Nick must master the use of the Rod of Asclepius if he wants to rescue his mates from a ghastly fate and help Ian save the planet.
###
Ian West, God of Storms, stared at the cloudless blue sky over the cove. He hefted his trident, sighting up the shaft as he aimed the dark grey tines upwards, and concentrated.
Nothing happened. He concentrated some more.
Still nothing.
There was a small sigh behind him. “I believe the human phrase is, put your back into it.”
Ian gritted his teeth. “I’m trying,” he said. “It’s not working.”
Another sigh. “Three days ago you were able to defuse a hurricane with no focusing agent or any sort of training. And now you expect me to believe you can’t condense a single small cloud on a bright day?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I expect you to believe.” He jammed the butt of the trident into the sand, turning to glare at Poseidon, God of the Seas. “I don’t know how I defused the hurricane, all right? You want to know how I did it, go ask Gaia.”
“I don’t have to,” Poseidon said calmly. “She already told me. She may have helped you with defeating Thetis, but she said you dismantled the hurricane all by yourself.”
“Then it was instinctive.”
One auburn eyebrow raised at that. “Instinctive? For a former human to control the weather? Another human phrase just came to mind — ‘Pull the other one, it has got bells on.’”
Ian swallowed a few choice curse words. Telling his new father-in-law to go fuck himself wasn’t the most intelligent move in the world, no matter how satisfying it would be. “I know you don’t believe me, but it was instinct,” he said. “I knew how hurricanes worked, knew I had to shut it down, and just did what felt right. I don’t know how else to describe it.” He pointed his free hand at the turquoise cove. “This is something completely different.”
The other god studied him, then finally shrugged. “Perhaps we’re approaching this from the wrong angle. Whereas it would simply be an effort of will for me, it seems to be more of an intellectual process for you, most likely due to your common origins.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“It’s the truth,” Poseidon said, unperturbed. “So. How would a cloud naturally form over water?”
Still annoyed, Ian thought about the meteorological processes he’d researched for his eco-thriller Greenstrike. “Sunlight warms the water and causes it to evaporate, and that creates a layer of warm, moist air,” he said. “Since heat rises, this gets boosted up into the atmosphere. When the layer reaches a certain point, it starts to cool, and some of the water vapor molecules starts clumping together. Get enough of them condensing, and you get a cloud.”
“Simplistic but accurate enough for our purposes,” Poseidon said. “And of course when large amounts of water vapor condenses, you get rain or snow. And if that warm air mass meets a cooler, drier mass, it can precipitate water vapor condensation over a large area, causing widespread cloud formation that, under the right circumstances, can become a storm.”
“Thank you, Bill Nye.”
Poseidon frowned. “Who?”
“Never mind. So what am I trying to do?”
The sea god gave him a long-suffering look. “Focus on the surface of the water. Gather the vapor, forcing it to coalesce as it rises into the air.”
Grimly, Ian turned back to the water. He pointed the titanium trident at the space directly over the waves and narrowed his concentration. One of the more useful things about his new godsight was the ability to zoom in and out on objects. Within moments, he found himself watching shimmering spheres of water vapor separating from the tops of the waves, dancing up into the sky.
Reaching out with the new powers granted to him by the earth goddess Gaia, he tried to gather the vapor droplets together as they drifted upwards. It was somewhat like herding fireflies, but after awhile he managed to shove enough of them together to form a wisp of cloud over the cove. Pulling back his concentration, he discovered he was breathless and dripping with sweat. “Shit. Is it always going to be that hard?”
“No. You’ll get better with practice.” Poseidon’s eyes narrowed as he studied the small drift of water vapor. “Not bad, not bad at all. Now dissolve it.”
“What? Why?”
“You can’t randomly create weather and then just leave it to its own devices. That’s how natural disasters get started.”
Ian wanted to throw the damn trident into the ocean and head back to the cottage for shower. “I’ve made bigger steam clouds than that cooking spaghetti,” he said, waving at the wisp. “What the hell is that going to do?”
“At the moment, nothing,” Poseidon said. “But it could drift further inland, gathering water vapor and increasing in size as it goes. It’s a warm, sunny day — plenty of moisture in the air for it to feed on. Next thing you know, it’s grown into a cloud bank, sucking in more water and expanding even more as it drifts over the land.”
He cupped a hand, bringing it to the one holding his golden trident. “And then it meets a cooler, drier mass of air, and tries to rise to get over it. But when it reaches its expansion point it starts to cool and its load of water vapor condenses, turning into rain. The masses of air also create charged ions, so now you have a thunderstorm. The storm moves even further inland, meeting yet another mass of cooler air.
Both hands now drew parallel circles in the air. “The masses churn, violently shearing over each other. A rotating vortex of air is created this way, and one end slowly falls to earth. When it reaches the ground, it begins to suck up dirt and debris, turning the vortex dark and visible. The new tornado proceeds to rip apart trees, throwing cars around like toys, erasing homes from their foundations. It kills people and animals, demolishes property, and leaves a raw scar of destruction in its wake. All because you couldn’t be bothered to stop it when it was just a small cloud.”
Ian flinched in horror. “Jesus. Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.” Poseidon leaned on his trident, giving him a grave look. “I’m not teaching you how to control the weather for the fun of it. I’m here because the weather is one of the most important planetary control systems Gaia has, and since you now have control over it you must be taught what you can and cannot do. For all their size, weather patterns are actually quite fragile, and can be changed in monumental ways by relatively small things. I suspect you’ve heard the phrase ‘the butterfly effect?’”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s quite apt. A small waft of vapor here can spawn into a killer tornado a hundred miles away. Which is why I’m now asking you to dissolve that cloud. Please.”
Dry-mouthed, Ian nodded and lifted his trident again, concentrating on driving the vapor particles apart. Slowly, the cloud melted away, leaving nothing but clear air. “Okay?”
“Perfect.” Poseidon eyed him. “Well, I think that’s enough for today. You need a shower, and I’m in the mood for lunch.”
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Reviews are coming in for Trickster
It seems to be scoring mainly 4 stars from the big review sites, which is heartening. The general upshot seems to be, “We like it, the whole ‘fated mates’ thing is getting a little thin but it works here, Delaney and Mark are fun, why the hell is it so short?”
Yeah, upon reflection I probably could have extended it by at least another 10K (I do gloss over two weeks’ worth of character development and possible humpa humpa, bad writer, no new laptop). The problem was, it started life as a short story, and when I couldn’t finish it in time for Evernight’s alpha shifter antho call I tried to turn it into a Romance on the Go™ story. Then it got too big for that, and I knew it was going to be a standalone.
While I was working on it, however, I had put Two to Tango on the back burner, and I knew I had Breaker Zone and Behind the Iron Cross backed up even further, so yeah, I may have given Trickster a bit more short shrift than I should have, and I apologize for that. If it’s of any consolation, I want to do two more stories in that universe, and those will be much longer. Of course, the stories I want to do center around the CEO Scott and his mate Carmen, and Aimee the receptionist, and I don’t have the best track record with M/F stories.
I dunno, maybe I’ll do another Delaney and Mark story first to establish the universe a bit more. I have to admit, I really, REALLY want to do a straight up bantering romcom with those two, maybe send them off to an IT convention in Vegas where an old shifter fling of Delaney’s tries to muscle in him and Mark. As for Mark, I’m thinking something appropriately fan-oriented. Maybe there’s a Creation Con going on in the same hotel and his geek heart is torn between snarling at Delaney’s ex-girlfriend and finally, FINALLY getting an autograph from his all time favorite actor. Must muse on this a bit.
A little late for resolutions, but what the hey
Starting today, I’m going to try and post something here everyday, because if y’all are checking in on a regular basis, I really owe it to you to get on my stick and give you something to read.
So, info nugget number one: after turning into the WIP That Would Not Die, Two to Tango is finished, polished, done de done done done, and off to Evernight as of a few hours ago. When I started the story, I thought it would top out at maybe 40K or so. Final word count was 66K. This is what happens when you decide to add not one but two batches of family drama as a subplot. It doesn’t help what when I was grousing to a writer buddy of mine about the fact that the damn story just kept growing, she tweeted to me:
(giggling & pointing) “First book of series, first book of series…you’re in for it now!”
I told her not to take it the wrong way, but I hated her. I already HAVE an ongoing series that I need to work on, plus people have been asking for a full-length A Boon by Moonlight sequel, PLUS the other erotic romance novels I want to do, plus the SF and urban fantasy novels I want to do. I actually have a list of 20 books already in my To Be Written/Finished queue (and yes, in case anyone’s interested, that includes the two Trickster sequels I have planned). That’s twenty full-length, 60-100K novels. To quote the hangman in Blazing Saddles, darling, I’m swamped.
I think a lot depends on 1) if it gets accepted, and 2) how well it does. There’s certainly more than enough material for additional books (in addition to the family drama, I created a nifty little device call the Puppet Wars that explains why nanite arrays and bioaugmentation was outlawed in this universe, and there’s a pissed off law enforcement officer who’s pretty much screaming for revenge). It’s up to Evernight now.
In the meantime, nugget two: now that TtT is off, I’m getting back to work on Breaker Zone and Behind the Iron Cross (I’m writing them in parallel because there’s so little crossover between the two I don’t have to worry about plot contamination). Have no idea when those will be done, and I’ve learned not to give ETAs — we’ll just have to see how fast I can get them finished. At least the nice thing about this delay is that I’ve solidified the characterization in BZ, which means I’m going to have to rewrite at least the first three chapters. But hell, if it’s good enough for Tiffany Reisz, it’s good enough for me.
So yeah, that’s where I stand this Monday night. Stay tuned!
Mid Week Tease: Two to Tango #MWTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a turning point from my current WIP, a M/M SF erotic caper story titled Two to Tango.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Rory Maclellan, aka the Highlander, is one of the most successful interstellar art thieves out there. He’s careful, professional, and plans his heists down to the microsecond. Surprisingly, he also has a conscience. So when he runs into a suicidal museum worker during his latest job, he has no choice but to stun the man and rescue him from certain death.
Dmitri Grigoryev was an up-and-coming exoarchaeologist until a disastrous dig left his career in tatters. Hungry, broke, and about to be laid off from the only job he’s been able to find in the last three years, he never expected a dashing thief to come along and ruin his suicide by saving his life.
With interstellar police on their tail, Rory and Dmitri reluctantly join forces for a major heist. But will their simmering attraction get in the way, or pull them even closer?
###
“You didn’t ruin my life, Mr. MacLellan,” Dmitri said quietly. “It was ruined well before I ever saw you. Would you like to know the real reason why I was trying to kill myself in the museum that night?”
The thief looked startled, then solemn. “If you’re okay with telling me that,” he said. “Then yes, I would.”
Dmitri nodded. “For the last three years, I’ve been scrimping and saving every credit I could get my hands on to get the P. Centauri III case reopened. It was the only way I could clear my name and get my career and life back. Three years of living in a rundown boarding house, wearing second-hand clothing and living on freeze-dried noodles and vat protein just past its sell-by date.” His mouth pursed. “And sometimes well past its sell-by date. All so that I could pay an investigator to find evidence that the van der Waals set me up, and a lawyer to bring my case in front of a civil judiciary panel.
“That finally happened about a week ago. I took two days off that I really couldn’t afford and went down to the Justice Center to testify against the van der Waals’ lawyer.” He smiled humorlessly. “They couldn’t even be bothered to show up themselves. Somehow, my investigator was able to get ahold of a partial audio recording from the site that was made just before the geyser blew. Everyone in the room heard my voice begging Helene to stop and get everyone out of the cavern. Both my lawyer and I thought it was open and shut case. We were wrong.”
Bitterness crept into his voice. “The day before the sterilization, they handed down the verdict. The original ruling of negligence was upheld. To add insult to injury, I was ordered to pay the van der Waals’ court costs. And then pissing on both insult and injury, I got to the museum and found out that I was fired. They claimed there was no record of my request for time off, and canned me for unapproved absences. I suspect that Helene spoke to someone on the board, who spoke to the director, et voila. And since I was fired, I wasn’t even eligible for unemployment chits.”
He turned one hand up, not so much a questioning gesture as one of resignation. “So there I was — unemployed, broke, with a huge legal bill hanging over my head, and no chance of ever going back to my old life. There was nothing else to do. Even if I went to work in a pleasure palace, I wouldn’t make enough to pay off the van der Waals’ bill for years. If I died in the museum, it would cause a scandal at the very least and embarrass that chickenshit bastard of a director.”
MacLellan had crossed his arms, face growing darker with each detail. “Those sons of bitches. Doc—”
“Dmitri.”
“Dmitri.” He took a deep breath. “I can get you the best legal eagle in the Known Worlds. I’ll make sure that warrant gets dropped, one way or another. You want your life back, I swear to God I’ll do my damnedest to make that happen.”
The anger and determination in the other man’s voice shocked him. “But — why?”
MacLellan bared a rictus grin. “Let’s just say I have very personal reasons to dislike people who abuse their wealth and power. Trust me, nailing that pair to the wall for you would be a pleasure.”
Dmitri stared at the man opposite him. What he proposed would not only be hideously expensive, but personally dangerous. “Those are the kindest words I’ve heard in three years,” he said slowly. “But no. I don’t want you to run that kind of risk. They’re not worth it.”
“Not — they ruined your life, man!”
“True. And then you saved it. Not only that, you gave me something I desperately needed.”
MacLellan frowned. “Which was?”
“The knowledge that things can change, even when you least expect it. You gave me a sense of hope.”
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Nicola Cameron Writes 