Happy anniversary to me!
Facebook’s Memories function has just been kind enough to remind me that three years ago today I got my acceptance from Evernight on Storm Season. My exact post on the topic was:
So, yeah, uh, I just sold my first standalone novel, Storm Season, to Evernight Publishing. Um…I’m a novelist. So what do I do now?
The answer is, write another novel, of course. Which I did, and I thank each and every one of you out there who has been buying them and chivvying me to write more. Y’all rock.
Speaking of books, writing continues apace in the Cameron manse. I’ve started on Palace of Scoundrels (the Empress sequel) and I’m flipping back and forth between that, Iron Cross, and Cross Current depending on my mood. Hey, it works for a lot of bestselling authors so why not me? But three books (plus a short story, plus another project that I’ll announce here in due time) apparently isn’t enough for my sozzled slavedriver of a muse, since she’s been prodding me to write a MF contemporary standalone like you would not believe. Thing is, it has some really deep, relevant hooks for me so I think it’s got to go on the To Be Written list (which is now stretching to 2020 and beyond).
At least it means you have lots of reading material to look forward to, right? That’s what I keep telling myself.
In other news, I’ll be at Wild Wicked Weekend this weekend in San Antonio and I’ll have print copies of Storm Season, HIS: Manlove Edition, and Empress of Storms with me, so if you’re coming and want a copy please hunt me down. This is my first romance convention where I’m a signing author, so I’m both excited and a little nervous. I’m putting together a gift basket and bringing swag, but I still have to learn the lay of the land and what’s expected from an author at such events (e.g. this ISN’T a science fiction convention so the graphic t-shirts will probably be left at home).
And yes, there will be pictures. And I’ll give you a full report on our outing to the Lair (San Antonio’s premier BDSM club). Pity I can’t wear what I wore to the Rubber Ball in London, muwahahahahaha…
Mid Week Tease: Pharaoh’s Pleasure #MidWeekTease #MWTease
It’s Wednesday? Awesome! Because I have a little teaser for you from something written by my friend JT Handler. We’ve known each other all my life, and JT writes fun-filled M/M erotica that I’m pleased to feature this week. Pharaoh’s Pleasure will be available on Amazon next week and kicks off a new series titled Pleasures in Time that should prove very entertaining for M/M readers.
Some set up — in order to avoid his overbearing (and very handsy) advisor Gordon Pattinson, grad student Kellen Fox spends the night working on an Ancient Egyptian exhibit display. When he polishes a hematite scarab, however, something very unexpected occurs.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Kel noticed the hematite scarab had slid off its clear plastic stand. Unlatching the case, he carefully picked up the scarab and examined it. There weren’t any new cracks or chips, thank God, just greasy fingerprints that were definitely not his. Goddamn it, Pattinson, do you jack off with this thing or what?
Wrapping a corner of his t-shirt around two fingers, he buffed out the fingerprints, spending a little of his frustration in the action. Something clicked under his rubbing, and the detailed wing section of the scarab slid back a bit.
He froze. That’s not supposed to happen. Oh, fuck, tell me I didn’t break it. Dry-mouthed, he peered at the carving and saw the gleam of gold.
Whoa. That is not supposed to be there. Very gently, he pushed the wing section again. It slid further on what he could now see were carved tracks, exposing a flat slice of gold embedded in the bottom half of the scarab. Inscribed in the metal were three rows of hieroglyphs.
His fear flashed into a full body thrill. Middle Egyptian. Sweet mother of Horus, it’s fucking Middle Egyptian! And Pattinson never found it!
He had a sudden daydream about writing a paper on the hidden hieroglyphs, receiving academic accolades for his discovery, maybe even basing his doctoral thesis on them. He quickly came back down to earth when he realized that he’d still have to report it to Pattinson as the head researcher on Pharaoh Senekenre. And knowing that conceited jerk, he’ll take all the credit and I won’t see shit.
Beside, you don’t even know what they say. They might be the 17th Dynasty equivalent of a fortune cookie. Frowning, he slowly sounded out the symbols. “Amhemnet, first advisor to Pharaoh Senekenre, calls on you, O Ra, to hear my prayer,” he said out loud. His voice echoed in the empty hall, taking on an odd, hollow quality. “Help me build a bridge for Pharaoh, to continue his line. I beg you, Great Ra, hear my prayer.”
Okay, definitely not a fortune cookie. Amhemnet was the pharaoh’s vizir and architect, and supposedly one of the greatest magicians of ancient Egypt. It sounded like he had inscribed some sort of personalized prayer of protection for the royal family. Sliding the shell section closed again, Kel went to put the scarab back in the display case, and stopped when he saw a reddish glow reflected in the glass. Fire?
Turning around, his jaw dropped open. Hanging in mid-air not five feet from him was a shimmering orange ball of light. The thing suddenly flared brightly, and Kel threw up his hand to shield his eyes.
And then the light was suddenly gone. Eyes still shut, he heard a deep, rumbling voice say, “What is this place?”
Cautiously, he lowered his hand and opened one eye, then the other. Then blinked. Then drooled just the tiniest bit. Because in front of him stood a tall, muscular, absolutely freaking gorgeous man with caramel skin, wearing a linen kirtle and one of the most spectacular scapulars Kel had ever seen. Bold black eyes outlined with kohl stared back at him curiously. “And who are you?” the man said. “Is this a dream? Or are you some sort of god?”
Kel realized the man’s lip movements didn’t sync up with his words. In fact, there was a soft rumble of a foreign language under the English, like an overdubbed movie. Okay, I am either officially hallucinating from six weeks of exhaustion combined with a sugar rush, or someone who looks like a 17th Dynasty underwear model just stepped out of a JJ Abrams special effect.
Hallucinating seemed more likely, all things considered. Which was a freaking shame, because just looking at Tall, Dark, and Imaginary ignited a deep sense of longing and need in Kel’s balls.
“Yeah, definitely not a god,” he said, tugging his t-shirt down. “Those are the tenured professors. I’m just a graduate student.”
“A graduate student.” The man seemed to roll the words over his lips, as if tasting them. “You are a scholar, then?”
“Not according to my advisor.” Ken winced when the man frowned at the quip. “Sorry. Yes, I’m a scholar.”
Over his shoulder he could see the artist’s rendering of Senekenre. The long-dead man’s face matched the stranger’s perfectly.
Oh, this is getting better and better. “I know this is going to be a weird question,” he said, “but has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like Pharaoh Senekenre?”
The man smiled. “Well, yes, seeing as I am Pharaoh Senekenre.” His smile widened, becoming a thing of sexy delight. “Who did you think I was, young scholar?”
Kel found himself grinning back at the handsome man. “Well, a hallucination, to be honest. So you’re telling me you’re Senekenre. Fourteenth king of the 17th Dynasty. You’re a genuine Egyptian Pharaoh, and you’re standing in front of me. Alive.”
Something flickered in Sekenenre’s eyes, sharpening them. He gazed around the chamber, finally spotting the deconstructed bed, and went pale under the bronze tan. “Gods above and below,” he whispered. “It worked?”
“What worked?”
The pharaoh spun back, fear and excitement warring in his expression. “Amhemmet’s plan,” he said. “Have I traveled to the future as he promised?”
Kel blinked. “Uh…”
“He said he would use his magic to send me to another time for a single night.” Senekenre stepped to the display case holding the hematite scarab, pressing his palm against the glass. “It was the only way to secure a future for my queen and myself. He said that when the right man found the spell and invoked it, the bridge would be formed, and I would be transported.”
The words hidden inside the scarab blazed through Kel’s mind. Amhemnet, first advisor to Pharaoh Senekenre, calls on you, O Ra. Help me build a bridge for Pharaoh.
His mouth went dry. “Wait. You’re telling me this Amhemnet guy used magic to send you to another time? To this time?”
Senekenre nodded. “Yes, thanks to you. I take it you invoked the spell?”
“If you mean I read it out loud, yeah. I didn’t know it was a spell.” Swallowing hard, Kel forced himself to reach out and touch Senekenre’s arm. It was warm under his fingertips. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. “I’m not hallucinating. You’re real. You’re really here!”
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Happy Tuesday
It’s Day 2 of A More Productive Me and so far it’s been going pretty well. I knocked out 3K of the Empress of Storms sequel outline yesterday (working title is Palace of Scoundrels), made dinner, did laundry and food shopping, and realized that the fingerless mitt I’ve been working on for the last year or so is way too big so I frogged that back and started over again with a smaller size. That shocks me, to be honest, because I have man hands and I’m so used to going to the largest size possible. The fact that the pattern includes a size that’s too big for me is kinda impressive.
Today’s goals — 3K on Iron Cross and finish off the Palace outline, finally get around to taking down the Christmas tree (yeah, yeah, I know I suck), crit the two manuscripts due at my writers’ group meeting tonight, finish an editing project for a friend, and see if we can squeeze in a showing of Deadpool at some point (we were going to see it on Valentine’s Day, but I took a nap after the con that turned into a coma). I also think the writing goals for the next two months are:
- Finish Iron Cross by the end of the month, get off to the agent by mid-March
- Finish Cross Current by the end of March, get it off to Evernight by mid-April
- Concurrently finish Palace of Scoundrels by the end of March, get it released by mid-April (or sooner if possible).
Plus there are some short story goals scattered in there when I have time. Seems doable to me.
A More Productive Me
As a writer, one of the draws about being a panelist at a science fiction convention is the conversation you get with various people in the bar. I’ve gotten story ideas, prompted story ideas, laughed my ass off numerous times, been unexpectedly complimented (frex, today I was told that I was a badass knitter and my dollhouses were baller), and have gotten some damned good advice.
This weekend was no different. Not only did I have a number of fun conversations with various folks over the weekend, I also had a very, VERY useful discussion with bestselling romance author Sidney Bristol about promotion, organization, and how to turn my treadmill into a functional walking desk. She warned me that she absolutely hated writing at hers, but it was a good way to get in some movement and crank out wordage. It appears that I will be cutting wood tomorrow and creating a desk that can sit across the gripper bars while I trudge along. This will be interesting.
Also interesting was her awesome day planner and how it helped organize her life. I’ve tried using the calendar and To Do function in Outlook for that sort of thing, but I’ve also noticed that I’ll let things fall by the wayside, whereas if I have things written out on a physical calendar I’m much better about doing them. So I’ve ordered the amazing Day Designer Flagship 2016 Mini Edition, as the full-sized one was sold out, and when it arrives I’m going to start keeping track of all the things I’m supposed to be doing and work on being far more professional with my time. Because I’m getting old, you see, and I just can’t keep all of this stuff in my noggin anymore. Plus there’s the whole “write a buttload of things, get them out there, and make a living wage off them” thing that I’d really like to make a reality this year. Every year since 2012 I’ve been getting more and more successful with my writing — I’ve established my brand, you wonderful people like reading my stuff, and I’ve demonstrated that I can sell as a hybrid author. Now I really want to kick things into high gear and start turning the writing dodge into something that can support me (and ideally both myself and Ramón at some point in the future).
In other news, the sinus infection seems to be waning, knock wood. I still feel the sinus symptoms, but my mood has improved mightily and so has my energy levels. Remember, folks, neti pots with distilled or boiled and filtered water really do work.
Could Someone Just Scoop Out My Sinuses, Thanks
Oy. You may remember that I wound up catching a cold while in Chicago a couple of weeks ago. Despite my best efforts it appears to have left a juicy little sinus infection in its wake.
Before I get besieged by remedies et al., I’ve gotten these often enough to know what to do. The mucus is yellow (it actually bears a noticeable resemblance to lemon curd), not green, which means it’s a viral infection rather than a bacterial one so antibiotics won’t do a blessed thing. I’m using antihistamines, Mucinex to thin the mucus, and aspirin to fight the sinus pain. I’m also using a neti pot to rinse out my sinuses, a steroid inhaler to help reduce swelling, and I’m sleeping with a humidifier next to the bed. Right now the only truly useful thing I can do is drink a boatload of water, rest, and wait it out.
Not like I have any other options, as this opportunistic infection is draining my energy like you would not believe. I went food shopping yesterday and felt like I was slogging through mud. Ramón sent me off to bed around 7:30 PM — I woke up 12 hours later and didn’t feel better at all. And I have all this lovely writing to do, if I could just kick my ass into gear instead of staring blearily at the screen and wishing mightily to take a nap.
But these books aren’t going to write themselves, so I may as well get cracking. If you hear pathetic coughing in the corner, be kind and send over a hot toddy, thanks.
Mid Week Tease: Cross Current #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, chumrades, and welcome to Mid Week Tease! This week I’m featuring anohter snippet from Cross Current (Olympic Cove #4), where our hero Matt winds up being abruptly introduced to the paranormal world. No pressure.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Matt choked on his wine.
Griffin leaned over and whacked him on the back as he spluttered. “You all right, mate?”
“Yeah,” Matt managed, grabbing a napkin and wiping his chin. “Sorry. Uh….”
He pointed at the beach, where a guy who could have worked as a body double for Chris Evans was climbing out of the surf. Shaggy blond hair surrounded a face that should have been on a romance novel cover, while the water slid off muscled arms and a perfect V-shaped torso, drops trickling down to—
Matt swallowed as the man’s naked and well-hung groin cleared the water. Jesus God, how does that thing not act like an anchor?
If that wasn’t enough, a sleek brown head also emerged from the water, letting out a ringing bark. One of the biggest seals Matt had ever seen thumped out of the water with the aid of powerful flippers. Man and beast headed straight for Dunn’s cottage, where Naked Guy dropped to his knees at the stairs, bowing his head. “My lord,” he said, voice rough and exhausted, “I come to ask a boon.”
My lord? And then Matt noticed Dunn’s expression. The amusement from the meal had turned into grim authority, while Ammie’s delicate features firmed into a more feminine version of her husband’s glower. Griffin leaned back in his seat, rubbing his mouth.
Matt turned back to the newcomers just in time to see the seal start writhing on the sand. It let out a series of pained noises, deforming as if something inside the creature was trying to get out.
And then the sleek sable fur on the breast split, a human hand pushing through it. The animal abruptly turned into a seal-shaped balloon that slid off the shoulders of a dark-haired man who crawled out of its skin.
Also naked, a hysterical little voice in the back of Matt’s head said. Although not quite as well hung…
The seal man got to his feet with an effort, looking drained. “Lord Poseidon,” he said to Dunn with a weary bow, “my name is Malcolm Muir, and I formally ask for sanctu—”
Before he could finish the sentence his eyes rolled up. With a gentle smile he collapsed face forward into the sand.
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You Got Girlie Bits In My M/M Romance!
As you know, Bob, I’m currently working on Cross Current, the fourth book in the Olympic Cove series, so I have the first three books on my mind at the moment. They’re all still selling, and to date Deep Water has gotten some very lovely reviews. This is reassuring to me because, yes, external validation is a thing and I like to have some of it once in a while.
That being said, I have also noticed that a number of the reviews make a point of saying that Deep Water, unlike the first two books in the series, is a MMF menage. There’s no real complaint about that, more a tone of puzzlement along the lines of, “Well, we don’t know why she decided to add female characters, but the story’s still good so we’ll work with it.”
So lemme ‘splain why I broke the pattern. Basically, my subconscious does whatever the hell it likes, and it decided that the first two books would be MMM, the third would be MMF, the fourth MMMFF, the fifth MMF, and the sixth MF (although now I’m kinda leaning towards MMF). I was fully aware that this could be problematic with regards to sales, as MM readers tend not to read MF stories and visa versa, and indeed I noticed a distinct downtick in sales with Deep Water as compared to the first two books in the series.
But. The Olympic Cove series is not your usual erotic romance series, as I suspect y’all may have noticed by now. It’s a cautionary tale about climate change as seen through the lens of fantasy, giving the planet a voice in the form of Gaia and her divine offspring. Yes, there are great big dollops of sex, but the main theme of the series is the environment and how humans are negatively affecting it, and that’s more important to me than sticking to one particular romantic grouping, be it MMM, MMF, etc.
Ultimately I hope that I can serve the story well enough to keep people reading even if I’m not using their favorite menage arrangement. And for the die-hard MM fans, I promise you there will be more side stories about Col and Kasos, just as soon as I get some wiggle room in my writing schedule.
Nicola’s Sunday Shoutout: Lynn Burke
Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to Lynn Burke and her delicious new erotic romance Finding Freedom, now available online from Roane Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Take it away, Lynn!
Tessa’s life beneath the strict rules of her parents’ cultish church leaves her longing for independence. Her boring, small-town checkout lane job barely covers the bills, let alone fulfill her wants and desires.
Until the weekly visits of god-like Trent and Brody have her dreaming of a Tessa sandwich with both sensual men as her bread.
Fantasies may be a pastime of the wicked, but when Trent asks her on a date—with both him and Brody—Tessa decides to take a chance, knowing the purity of her soul is at stake. Will these two men be her ticket to freedom – or her one way trip to eternal damnation?
Story Excerpt
Towel wrapped around me, I peeked out the bathroom door into Trent’s dimly lit bedroom. A T-shirt and shorts lay on his massive, king-sized bed.
I tugged the shorts up my damp legs, but couldn’t get them over my bum. More tears pricked as I cursed my too-much body. Trent’s shirt hung to the middle of my thighs. It would have to do.
Trent lounged beside the blazing fire pit. The sound of trickling water drew my attention to the right. Brody stood beneath the outdoor shower, his round, bite-able backside flooding my mouth with drool.
Tearing my gaze off him, I ambled over toward Trent. He patted the couch beside him, and taking care not to reveal my too-much, naked bottom half, I settled on the cushion and allowed myself another peek at Brody.
“Hot, isn’t he?”
Trent’s low, murmured words whipped my head around. “What?”
“Brody.” He continued to stare at his friend, a smirk on his lips, lust in his eyes. “Just look at that ass.”
Unable to help myself, I did as told while trying to wrap my mind around what Trent had said—and the unmistakable desire in his gaze.
“What do you think, Tessa?”
I swallowed and laced my fingers together in my lap. “I think he’s beautiful.”
Trent made a sound of appreciation in his throat as Brody turned, closed his eyes, and tipped his head back, running his hands through his hair.
My focus zoned in on his long, flaccid penis. Cock, my whore-mind whispered. I laced my fingers tighter and forced my attention on Trent.
He met my gaze and grinned. “Quite the temptation, isn’t he?”
“Enough to make me burn in hell,” I admitted with a whisper.
Where To Buy
Roane Publishing
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Barnes & Noble
Bookstrand
Smashwords
Google Play
All Romance eBooks
Giveaway
Lynn is giving away an ecopy of Finding Freedom and a $10 Roane Publishing gift card. Just use the Rafflecopter code below to enter to win!
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About Lynn Burke
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
Her current work, the Risso Familly Novellas, revolves around four siblings from Boston’s North End.
Fabulous Friday Reads: Waking the Lioness
TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with Amber Morgan’s purrfectly wonderful new novel Waking the Lioness, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Take it away, Amber!
I’m a werewolf girl first and foremost, but my second-favourite shifter is definitely the werecat. Although the term “werecat” only really came about in the 1970s, there’s been myths and legends about humans turning into cats forever. In European folklore there are stories of witches turning into domestic cats. In Africa, leopard gods and goddesses would take human form and mate with mortals, and their offspring would be shapeshifters (hmm, now there’s a story idea…). In Asia, the ghosts of people killed by tigers could become evil beings called Chang, who made sure that tigers killed even more people!
And in America, where WAKING THE LIONESS is set, we have were-jaguars. In Mesoamerican cultures, priests and shamans would wear jaguar skins to become jaguars themselves. There are also stories of bipedal felines – kind of like Bigfoot, but, you know, cats. There doesn’t seem to be much about shapeshifting mountain lions, but that’s the beauty of being a writer – I can make it up! I’m hoping that WAKING THE LIONESS will be the first in a series of werecat stories, because there’s just so much to explore! In the mean time, I’m looking forward to you meeting Lara, Zane, and Tate, and getting to know my werecats very, very intimately.
Convinced she could never give her fiance what he truly wanted, cat-shifter Lara Carey walked away from her home and her engagement, and started fresh in New Orleans. One year on, she’s never stopped missing Zane Walker…but it’s too late to do anything about it, isn’t it?
Zane Walker hasn’t come to New Orleans to find Lara, but when chance throws them together, his passion for her is reignited. There’s just one problem. Zane’s new lover is missing somewhere in New Orleans, and even if Zane and Lara find him, can Lara accept him and Zane?
Story Excerpt
She smiled, hoping she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. “Is Tate the jealous type?” she asked, flexing her fingers. Zane let out a long sigh.
“Lara, this isn’t—”
She moved in front of him, sliding her hand down his torso until she cupped his balls. Another ragged sigh. Lara licked her lips and kissed his throat, nipping lightly. The smell of male arousal mingled with her own musk. She kept her eyes on Tate as she teased Zane, raking her nails over his balls and rubbing her thumb across that soft, sensitive stretch of flesh beneath, just the way he loved. If Tate was the jealous type, she could be making a major mistake here, one she’d never recover from.
But Tate didn’t look angry or jealous as the dull glaze faded from his eyes. He looked…curious.
Zane groaned as she encircled his hardening cock. He pulled her hard against him, crushing her breasts to him with just the right balance of pleasure-pain. She whimpered as he dug his fingers into her hips, silently urging her on.
She worked her hand slowly up and down his shaft, her other hand making lazy trails up and down his chest. It had been so long since she’d been with anyone. The slightest contact burned like wildfire, and this was Zane, the only man she’d ever loved. Breathless with desire, wound tight with need, it was impossible to pretend she did this only to force Tate into a shift. She was doing this all for her own selfish pleasure and she wasn’t going to stop. And if Zane’s reaction to her touch was anything to go by, he didn’t want her to.
On the bed, Tate raised his head and chirped at Zane. Zane raised his head, a little growl escaping his lips. “You know the rules. You want in, you shift,” he said in a voice thick and throaty with desire.
The words caught Lara off-guard. They implied so much with so little. So much history, past threesomes maybe. Her heart skipped. Did Zane think… Would she even…?
Her stomach filled with butterflies as she realized she would. Dammit, she was so starved for skin contact, so – yes, still so in love with Zane, that she would. She’d take both men. Excitement raced through her. She’d take them both and savor the thrill of it.
Tate shook his head and pushed himself up, his wounded back leg clearly hampering him. Lara’s hand faltered for a second, worried he’d hurt himself worse, but then Zane’s hand closed over hers. “Finish what you started,” he growled.
Where to Buy
Evernight
Amazon US
Amazon UK
AllRomance eBooks
About Amber Morgan
Amber is the secret identity of a writer who normally pens urban fantasy, but feels like stretching her wings. Amber loves darker romance, anti-heroes, good red wine, and expensive chocolate (sometimes all at once). She’s based in the UK and lives in an adorable cottage with her dream man and two stupid snakes.
Why, yes, I’m still alive
Sorry about the extended radio silence. I was in the Chicagos for the second half of January hanging out with Younger Nephew while his mom and dad went on a very well-deserved vacation, and then while I was there YN gave me a rather juicy cold that knocked me on my ass once I got home.
That being said, the enforced downtime in bed meant that I have binge-watched a goodly chunk of Downton Abbey, Series 1-3 (damn you, my good sister, for introducing me to this between-the-wars quicksand). And may I say that I would give a pretty for a lady’s maid right now? Someone who could brush my hair, fasten my shoes, lay out my clothing and run my bath for me, especially when I feel like I’ve been hit by a car, would be absolutely lovely. Granted, I’d also have to work on getting her martyr of a husband out of jail, but I feel that would be an acceptable compromise.
That being said, I have risen from my sickbed and am now clean, coiffed, and dressed so I feel it’s time to get back to work and continue to craft the cleverly saucy erotic romances that I am known for (do you know how HARD it is to stop talking like that? Crikey…). As February has begun I’ve started outlining the sequel to Empress of Storms (working title still to be determined, and suggestions are being accepted), with the idea of publishing it at the end of March. I’m also finishing (yes, still) Behind the Iron Cross (ironically DA may wind up informing a lot of the editing), and I had a whopper of a plot development while I was in Chicago that will require me to scrap the first chapters of Cross Current. That being said, this new plot point is kinda amazing and gives the main character some real issues to overcome while he figures out what he’s doing at Olympic Cove.
Back to Empress of Storms, I’ve crunched the numbers for its first quarter and I’m very pleased to announce that it has become my bestselling title for any given quarter. From November 7, 2015 to January 31, 2016 I sold 745 copies through assorted online retailers, and made $1525.38. After deducting promotion and production costs my net income for Empress was $1227.82. Not too shabby for the first book as Nicola M. Cameron in a subgenre I’ve never written in before, hey? Moreover, it confirms my determination to continue as a hybrid author because that is obviously where the money can be made, and while I love entertaining you all I do kinda need to help Ramón keep a roof over our heads and kibble in the cats’ bellies. The nice thing is that the upward selling trend is continuing, so hopefully I can ride that for the next two months while I get out the sequel.
Oh, and the moderately fevered bingewatch of Downtown Abbey may have spawned an idea for a dieselpunk M/M series about a great estate that secretly serves as His Majesty’s first line of defense against arcane, supernatural, and paranormal attacks on the Empire, and the wolf shifter who gets sucked into all this after a brief dalliance with a man who turns out to be the estate’s heir. I’ve been describing it as Downton Abbey meets Girl Genius with a heavy dollop of Harry Potter thrown in for flavoring. It’s going to be sexy and dangerous, but with huge lashings of humor as well.
So that’s me settled for the first half of 2016!
Nicola Cameron Writes 