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Mid Week Tease: Palace of Scoundrels #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Yeah I sort of screwed up last week by not posting because I had told myself to set up a post since I was going to be busy traveling to Ontario for the Evernight writers’ retreat … and promptly forgot to make the post. My bad. So in apology, have a longer teaser from my new MF fantasy romance Palace of Scoundrels (Two Thrones Book 2). This teaser features Lord Tomas Villiers, the Winter Wolf and protector of the northern border of Ypres, and his beloved Lady Sibeal de Clerq, who’s been engaged to someone else against her will. They’re hoping that King Matthias can do something about that; in the meantime, Sibeal is hiding with Tomas at his hunting lodge, and being in such close confines is making things … difficult.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Spring has sprung in the island kingdom of Hellas, but with no signs of an occupant for the royal nursery Queen Danaë is starting to worry about her own fertility. Her concerns aren’t helped by the arrival of the legendarily conniving Dowager Queen Atilia of Illium–or the woman’s handsome grandson Prince Marcus, on the run after being accused of poisoning his older brother.
In the neighboring kingdom of Ypres, Danaë’s royal husband Matthias is dealing with dangerous family politics and a wolfish duke who has kidnapped a young noblewoman for immoral purposes. Or has he? Can Matthias ward off the threat of civil war, outwit his relatives, and deal with a charming rival in his wife’s own palace?
Tomas Villiers was used to sleeping rough while on patrols with the cavalry. He prided himself on being able to catnap in a downpour with nothing but a woolen cloak for shelter.
And yet, in a wide, comfortable bed made up with the finest linen and softest blankets, he couldn’t get to sleep. Too comfortable, belike. I’d feel better if I bedded down in front of the fire.
Or out in the fields. Or anywhere other than this hunting lodge. Then again, where he truly wanted to sleep was his own bed in Wolf’s Den, with his legally wedded wife curled up in his arms and his men stationed on the battlements to repel any intruders. But that was looking more and more like an impossibility, if he insisted on Sibeal as his wife.
He’d known taking her from Riens was madness, but it was madness she had shared with him willingly. Her frustration and fear that her mother would force her to marry Clement Reynard served as a spur to grab her and ride hell for leather away from Lierdhe. She had assumed they were riding north for Kelles, but he knew it would be the first place the Lierdhe men at arms would look for him, assuming her maid was questioned and revealed who her mistress was meeting. Sibeal swore that the girl knew nothing, but Tomas wasn’t about to risk it.
Instead, they made for his family’s hunting lodge in the hills north of Mons. He had paused only long enough to send one of his men with a message to Kaarsen telling him to send servants and guards to the lodge. Afterwards they’d ridden through the night, only stopping to change horses at an inn with an attached stable. Poor Sibeal was almost falling out of her saddle with weariness by the time they reached the lush hill country and the lodge.
The first day, it was easy enough to forget that she was staying in the room across from his—they were both exhausted and sleep was far more demanding than anything else. The servants and men from Wolf’s Den arrived the next day. Tomas busied himself with dispersing the guards around the lodge while Sibeal declared herself fit for chatelaine duties and spent the afternoon planning meals and a cleaning schedule with the maid and cook.
As they settled into a routine, waiting for Kaarsen to approach the king and make his request for a visit, Tomas became more aware of Sibeal’s presence in the lodge. Traces of her scent hung in the hallway between their bedrooms, an enticing fragrance of rose and jasmine that seemed to emanate from her skin. He started listening for the sound of her voice, wanting to hear her discussing matters with the servants, or singing to herself as she found little tasks to do.
And every time she appeared, he had to fight the urge to sweep her into his arms, carry her off to his bedroom, strip the gown from her sweetly curved body and make love to her for the rest of the day. He knew full well she shared the same frustration, judging from the longing looks she would give him over a meal or across the great room.
But his beautiful little bride-to-be had the passionate nature of her people and kept discussing what she wanted in whispered little asides and hints. He had been forced to retire to his room more than once, there to shove his trousers down and take himself in hand, quickly stroking his aching cock. And always he imagined Sibeal naked and breathless underneath him, white fingers digging into his back, perspiration beading her beautiful face as she begged him for more.
Finally he would spurt over his fingers, the abrupt release of pressure in his balls followed by a momentary relief and a deep-seated discomfort that he refused to acknowledge as shame. Not so much that he was forced to relieve himself, he told himself, but that he was doing it so damned quickly, like a boy barely into manhood. I am Duke of Kelles, and I will show restraint, dammit.
Even if it killed him.
Finally, Kaarsen had sent word that King Matthias would be arriving for the requested visit. Instead of solving matters as Tomas had hoped, he made things even worse by admitting that he couldn’t order Lady de Clerq to lift that damned spell of barrenness. Knowing that Sibeal couldn’t get pregnant made her even more damnably desirable, ironic as it seemed. He could get up, go into her room, and spend the rest of the night learning how to make her moan his name, and there would be no wagging tongues after the birth of his heir. Except that he had promised the king that he wouldn’t take her virginity, and a Villiers’s word was adamantine.
A low rumble of thunder sounded overhead. The storm that had been threatening that afternoon was finally making an appearance. Good. Maybe it’ll soothe me enough so that I can sleep.
The sound of his chamber door creaking open was almost lost in another roll of thunder. Still, Tomas heard it and sat up, reaching for the dagger he always kept under his pillow. “Who’s there?” he demanded.
“It’s me,” a feminine voice whispered. “Did I wake you?”
Every muscle in his body went slack with relief. He peered at the shape revealed by a flash of lightning. “Sibeal? Sweetheart, what are you doing in here?”
“The lightning woke me up,” she said. He felt the mattress sink as she climbed in beside him. “Can I stay with you?”
“I—” And she was in his arms, snuggling close. By all the gods, how did she manage that so quickly? “Sibeal,” he said, trying to edge his lower body away from her so that she wouldn’t know he was naked under the covers, “this is improper. You need to go back to your own room.”
He could only see her outline in the dimness, but he imagined her smiling up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I don’t want to. It’s cold and drafty in there, and I’ll be warm in here with you.” Her small hand spread out on his chest. “You don’t want me to fall ill, do you?”
He captured her hand in his own. It felt soft and warm. “You’re dreadful at making excuses, do you know that?”
“I know.” He felt more than heard her sigh. “I wanted to know what it was like to lie in your arms one time. It may be the only opportunity I get.”
Despair and fury made his gut roil. “Don’t say that, sweetheart. It’s not over yet,” he said. “I won’t let you marry Reynard, I swear it.”
“If the king orders it, what will you do? Give up your dukedom and run away with me? You know you can’t do that—you owe it to your people to stay.” She laughed, the sound soft and sad. “And even if we did run away, I still wouldn’t be able to have children. And I want them so, Tomas.”
“I know.” He held her close, frustrated by his inability to protect her. “Let me go talk to your mother, explain how we both feel—”
She shook her head. “You didn’t see her when I told her I couldn’t marry Clement. It was as if every bit of love and light had gone out of her. She frightened me, Tomas. I don’t know what else she would have done to me if I’d stayed.”
Tomas kissed her temple. “I can’t lose you, sweetheart. I’ll make this right somehow.”
The warm body in his arms clutched him tight for a moment. “You may not be able to. And if you can’t, this may be the only night we have together.” She raised her head and lightning flashed outside, allowing him a split second to see the tear tracks on her face. “If I can’t spend the rest of my life with you, then give me this night with you. Let me have a memory I can treasure for the rest of my days.”
He fought the sudden, overwhelming urge to turn her onto her back and make fierce love to her. “Sibeal, I promised the king—”
“That you wouldn’t take my maidenhead, I know.” She touched his mouth, tracing his lips. “But there are other things we can do.”
He ground his teeth. Already he was starting to harden, and twisted further away to hide that fact. “I’m begging you, sweetheart, don’t do this to me. I can’t touch you and not want to … to take you.”
“You’ll have me,” she soothed. “We just can’t do that one thing. I won’t leave you aching, I promise.” Before he could stop her she’d shifted across him, straddling his naked thighs. The soft curls at the junction of her thighs brushed his heated flesh in the movement and he bit back a groan.
“Trust me,” she murmured, stretching forward to kiss him. With a sour thump, he realized that she was right, this might be the only night they had together if the king couldn’t help them. Gods damn me, but I need her too much.
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Mid Week Tease: Do No Harm #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, chumrades, and welcome to Mid Week Tease! This week I’m featuring another snippet from Do No Harm, where Daniel takes his first shower with Simon. Er, is it wrong that I keep hearing Mads Mikkelsen’s voice in my head when I write Simon’s dialogue? 😀
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
All Daniel Graff wanted to do on Christmas evening was finish his surgical rounds at Lakeside Memorial Hospital and go home. When he’s kidnapped from the hospital parking lot, he’s astounded to find out that his captor is also his colleague, world-famous neurosurgeon Simon Falk.
Simon has good reasons for his actions, but Daniel is determined to fight him every step of the way, bringing Simon’s Dom side to the fore. When he learns something very unexpected about his handsome captive, he decides to make Daniel his, no matter what it takes.
After finishing with Daniel’s legs and feet, Simon straightened and quickly shampooed his own hair. Reaching for the body wash, he paused as a marvelous idea occurred to him: why clean myself when I have a pet to do it for me?
“Here,” he said, handing the bottle to the patiently waiting Daniel. “Wash me.”
The surprised look on his pet’s face would have made him laugh in any other circumstance. “What?”
“Obviously I need to clean your ears more often. Wash me.”
Daniel gawked at him for another moment, then fumbled with the bottle, pumping a dollop of gel into his palm. “Do you—I mean, should I use a washcloth?” he asked awkwardly.
“Your hands are fine.” Simon spread his arms, resting one palm on the stall wall and the other on the sliding glass door.
Swallowing hard, Daniel rubbed the body wash between his hands to make it foam, then brought them to Simon’s pecs and rubbed in hesitant circles. It was too light, but the stroking sensation make Simon’s nipples pebble up. “You can use more pressure. I won’t break.”
“Okay.”
Simon raised a critical eyebrow.
“I mean yes, Sir.” The strokes became firmer as Daniel washed his chest and shoulders, focusing on the task at hand. Simon relished the tactile pleasure of being touched and the visual pleasure of watching his pet, lower lip caught between white teeth, serving him. The steam became perfumed with the body wash’s notes of cut grass, sweet wild fig and powdery sandalwood, adding an olfactory treat to the sensory banquet. His pet’s cock was still hard, and bumped against his own quickly rising erection.
He smiled when Daniel noticed it. “You’re, uh….”
“I’m hard, yes. Just as you are,” Simon said evenly. “Keep washing me.”
“Yes, Sir.” Daniel ran his soapy hands over Simon’s hips, but seemed reluctant to go lower. “Are you–I mean, do you want me to wash you everywhere?”
Meaning his groin. “Wash my legs and feet first,” Simon ordered. “It’ll be easier if you kneel.”
Daniel glared at him but obeyed, sinking jerkily to his knees. Simon added posture and movement training to the ever-growing mental list as his pet soaped his calves and feet.
Daniel’s hands rose to his thighs, then paused again. He stared up at Simon, wordlessly asking to be ordered.
“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Simon said, making his voice firm. “You know how to wash an uncut cock properly. So do it.”
Daniel’s shoulders squared and he reached for Simon’s groin. Cautiously skinning back the foreskin, he ran his slick fingers over the sensitive flesh underneath. Simon sucked in a breath at the sensation, balanced so sweetly between pain and pleasure.
Daniel finished cleaning the rest of the shaft, then focused on Simon’s balls, rolling each testicle in his palm as he washed the softly wrinkled sac. He paused, looking up at Simon. “What about your, uh.…”
“Anus?” Said, amused. “Really, pet, for doctor you seem to have a very difficult time naming body parts.”
Already flushed from the hot water, the color in Daniel’s cheeks deepened. “Fine. Do you want me to wash your perineum and anus?”
“You forgot my buttocks. But no, I’ll wash those myself.” Simon selected an unlabeled jar from the rack holding his toiletries and handed it to Daniel. “While you’re down there, however, you may bring me to orgasm.”
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Mid Week Tease: Do No Harm #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, chumrades, and welcome to Mid Week Tease! This week I have another snippet from Do No Harm, a story that started out as a potential entry for Evernight’s Dark Captive antho and quickly grew into a novel of its own. I love it when that happens.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
All Daniel Graff wanted to do on Christmas evening was finish his surgical rounds at Lakeside Memorial Hospital and go home. When he’s kidnapped from the hospital parking lot, he’s astounded to find out that his captor is also his colleague, world-famous neurosurgeon Simon Falk.
Simon has good reasons for his actions, but Daniel is determined to fight him every step of the way, bringing Simon’s Dom side to the fore. When he learns something very unexpected about his handsome captive, he decides to make Daniel his, no matter what it takes.
The first thing Daniel noticed when he woke up was the pewter light seeping through the windows, casting a moire pattern through the sheers. The intermittent tapping of ice particles on the glass reminded him of the weather forecast for a three-day blizzard.
Shit. I don’t want to go out in that.
The thought made him snuggle deeper into the mass of warmth cradling him from behind. And then he remembered who was providing that body heat. He reached up and touched the collar ringing his neck.
He wasn’t going outside for a week. He’d been kidnapped.
A soft chuckle caused the hair on his nape to rise. “I can tell you’re awake,” Falk murmured in his ear. “Your entire body just went rigid.”
It wasn’t the only part rigid. His trapped dick was making itself known inside the chastity device. “I just remembered where I was,” Daniel said through his teeth.
“Ha. And here I thought you wriggling your bum against me was an invitation.”
Daniel realized what the hot, hard shape pressing into his ass cheek was. Fuck. “I was asleep. It didn’t count.”
“Yes, I know. And you can relax. I don’t intend to fuck you this morning.” Falk uncurled from him. For a second he missed the soothing warmth. “We have a number of other things to do.”
I don’t intend to fuck you this morning. Implying that it would happen on another morning, another day. Daniel tried to drum up a sense of dread. Simon Falk had free reign over his body for the next seven days. He would have to do anything the surgeon wanted; allow himself to be beaten or flogged, crawl and beg, service him sexually.
At that thought the odd sensation of anticipation returned, adding a languorous note. Fantasies were one thing, but he couldn’t actually want any of that. Not in real life.
Could he?
“Up,” Falk ordered. “Shower first, then breakfast.”
A sharp ache from his cock reminded Daniel of the chastity device. “And you’ll take this thing off, right,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
And almost swallowed his tongue. By day, Simon Falk was the picture of stylish perfection, GQ-ready from his perfect hair to his polished shoes. First thing in the morning, however, that perfect hair was tousled, and his hazel eyes blinked sleepily. Even better, his cheeks and chin featured a silvered stubble, giving him a sexy, roguish look that went straight to Daniel’s cock.
He winced from the pain of the silicone sheath compressing his erection. “Please,” he added. “Sir. Seriously, it’s killing me.”
Falk grinned. “I doubt that. But you asked politely and used Sir. I like obedience in a pet.”
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Mid Week Tease: Do No Harm #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, chumrades, and welcome to Mid Week Tease! This week I’m featuring a snippet from Do No Harm, a story that started out as a potential entry for Evernight’s Dark Captive antho and quickly grew into a novel of its own. I love it when that happens.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
All Daniel Graff wanted to do on Christmas evening was finish his surgical rounds at Lakeside Memorial Hospital and go home. When he’s kidnapped from the hospital parking lot, he’s astounded to find out that his captor is also his colleague, world-famous neurosurgeon Simon Falk.
Simon has good reasons for his actions, but Daniel is determined to fight him every step of the way, bringing Simon’s Dom side to the fore. When he learns something very unexpected about his handsome captive, he decides to make Daniel his, no matter what it takes.
Daniel noticed the movement first. The soft vibration of the road, broken by the occasional bump. Warm air caressed his face, scented with clean leather and the faint tang of long-chain monomers. The custom air of an expensive car.
He opened his eyes, and blinked. It took a moment to resolve the pointillistic study of grey and white in front of him into a windshield.
Snow. It’s snowing.
“You’re awake. Good.”
Still blinking, Daniel tried to turn his head. A sharp ache along the front of his throat convinced him that wasn’t a good idea. “Where am I?” he croaked.
“Specifically? My car. If you mean location, we’re on McKinley Road, close to my home.”
The voice. He knew that voice.
Daniel’s vision finally cleared, allowing him to see the man behind the wheel. “Simon?”
“Good, you’re back.” Simon Falk gave him a brief smile but kept his eyes on the road. “Forgive my rudeness. The weather is getting worse, and I don’t want to hit anything.”
“Uh.” Daniel tried to work through the cotton still blanketing his mind. The last thing he remembered was heading out to his car, and then—
—choking, a struggle, darkness.
“How—” he paused, dredging up some saliva, “did I get in your car?”
Falk’s lips pursed. “I’ll explain when we get home. How’s your throat?”
Home? “My—” Daniel tried to lift a hand to rub his throat, and couldn’t. Looking down, he saw that someone had taken off his parka and put both his hands in a sort of leather mitt. Each mitt was mated to a belted cuff with D rings; those were clipped to a belt that now ran around his waist. He tugged experimentally, then harder. His arms were immobilized. “What the hell?”
“I didn’t want you to panic and try to get out of the car when you woke up,” Falk explained. “Your feet are secured with cuffs, as well.”
With a dim sort of horror, Daniel leaned as far as his seat belt would allow and spotted more leather wrapped securely around his ankles. “What the fuck are you doing?”
The other man’s expression was calm, even serene. “One. Now, tell me what you remember.”
Daniel opened his mouth, then hesitated. Someone had grabbed him, choked him into unconsciousness. Now that he thought about it, it had been done with what could be called surgical precision.
Falk’s hands rested easily on the steering wheel. Large hands, exquisitely talented with a scalpel, they were connected to arms that were long and strong enough to wrap around his neck.
He swallowed again, more easily this time. “Did you—” It was crazy, totally unbelievable. But he had to ask. “Did you mug me?”
Falk’s expression remained serene. “I wouldn’t call it mugging. Your wallet is still in your pocket and your computer bag is in the back seat. But if you’re asking whether I choked you until you passed out, then yes, I did.” A corner of his mouth lifted, the briefest of smiles. “I apologize for the method, but I didn’t have time to acquire a tranquilizer and syringe. I was very careful, I promise. You should be fine by morning.”
Daniel stared at the other surgeon, trying to understand what he’d just heard. Falk seemed calm, perfectly normal. And yet he’d just admitted to assault, as if it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “Why in God’s name did you choke me out?”
Falk sighed. “I didn’t think you’d get in my car otherwise. I’ve done it before with others so I knew what I was doing, although I apologize for any residual pain I may have caused.”
Residual pain. That was the last thing Daniel was worried about. “Pull over and take off these cuffs.”
Now Falk spared him a brief look. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“You speak English, yes? No, I will not take them off. Not until we get to the house.”
A spike of fear punched through Daniel’s anger. “This is kidnapping. Goddamn it, Falk, you’re kidnapping me!”
“Two. And I prefer to think of it as protective custody, but call it whatever you like.” The neurosurgeon’s expression changed now, turning sober. “I have reasons for my actions, Daniel, very good ones. I know you have no reason to do it, but for now you’re simply going to have to trust me.”
Daniel could feel his mouth drop open, and shut it with a snap. “Trust you? You choked me into unconsciousness, kidnapped me, and now I’m supposed to trust you? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”
“Three. And no, I’m not. Now please settle down. We’ll be home soon.”
Fists clenched in their leather mitts, Daniel sat back in his seat and fumed. Falk had a good two inches on him and at least thirty pounds, all of it muscle. With his hands and feet immobilized and a seat belt holding him down, the most he could do was lunge sideways and hit Falk in the shoulder with his head. I might be able to bite him, distract him.
A strong gust of wind drove snow against the windshield, reminding him of the weather outside the car. If he distracted Falk now, they’d probably go off the road. Even if they didn’t hit anything and just landed in a ditch, Falk could simply get out of the car and walk away, leaving Daniel behind to freeze. He said he had good reasons for doing this. It’s not like he’s a serial killer, for God’s sake. He’s a world-famous doctor.
Daniel shuddered. Yeah. So was Hannibal Lecter.
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I am grateful
An amazing number of things have happened to me professionally in the last two weeks things that have reinforced my decision to switch genres and start writing the stuff I always wanted to write. I am deeply grateful for all of these wonderful opportunities, and I want to thank each and every one of you who read my work because you’re the reason why so many good things are happening right now. You people rock.
- May 8th I signed a contract with Me and the Muse Publishing to have Trickster translated and published in German.
- May 15th held three important career milestones for me:1) For the first time in my writing career I cracked the five figure mark in writing income.
2) I cracked the five figure mark for yearly writing income.
3) I made five figures (oh, screw it — $10,000) on one title. And yes, it was Empress of Storms.
- May 16th I signed a contract with Juno Publishing to have Empress of Storms translated and published in French.
- May 18th I signed a contract with photographer Javier Cortina to use a photograph of Colby Keller from Javier’s The Legend of St. George photo shoot as the cover for my fantasy historical M/M romance The Chevalier, coming out in August.
On the verge of turning 50, I feel like my life and career are truly on track, and I’m very excited to see what the next few years bring.
And She Returns…
My goodness, I haven’t posted anything since before RT, have I? Bad romance writer, NO new MacBook Pro!
No, seriously, no new MacBook Pro. I was going to buy one this weekend with my royalties because my existing laptop is 1) over eight years old and 2) was a refurb when I bought it, but as it turns out I need to use my income for other writing-related expenses — namely, a cover (more about that later), sponsorship and attendance for Wild Wicked Weekend, and to pay off my half of an upcoming trip.
So the new laptop will have to wait another month. Which sort of sucks, but that’s adulting for you.
Anyway, back to RT — I decided to drive from Dallas to Vegas instead of flying because I was in the mood for a roadtrip (and er, I had a lot of shit to bring). Said road trip was gorgeous, and I learned that it is geographically noticeable when you cross from Texas into New Mexico and New Mexico into Arizona. At the TX/NM border the landscape immediately changes from flat plains to gorgeously colored mesas, and at the NM/AZ border it immediately turns into scrubby desert with the occasional mountain until you get to Flagstaff, at which point you’re definitely in the mountains. Lovely, and I’d like to do it again with Ramón if possible.
Vegas itself is the neon-lit adult funland that it’s always been, so no real news there. The Rio was perfectly serviceable as a hotel, although I did hear that the route from the hotel rooms to the conference area was referred to as “the Hallway of Doom” due to its distance. Let’s just say that I hit 10K steps on four different days and leave it at that. Much fun was had with the lovely LD Blakeley as my roommate, and we attended some nifty panels, hung out with great folks like Kenna Nauenberg and Alex Gordon, and of course attended the amazing Cirque du Punk party on Friday night.
Kenna, LD, and myself. I was yelping, “I have a waist, I have a waist!” when LD was lacing me up.
Lady Amphitrite before the nails and corset went on, because those were saved for last, you betcha.
Two erotic romance writers loose in Vegas. I’m surprised we didn’t get into more trouble.
Competing in the CdP costume contest (picture courtesy of Michael Patrick Gleason). I cannot adequately express how much I love this costume.
The other big event of RT for me was the Book Fair on Saturday. I didn’t sell a lot, but I did get to see sights like this:
My life is so hard.
Sunday was spent tidying up, trying to get everything packed (or in LD’s case cursing UPS for their extortionate charges to ship stuff to Canada), and hanging out with fellow Evernight author Khloe Wren and awesome cover model Michael Gleason:
After this LD and I looked at each other, said, “Let’s get out of the hotel for a bit,” and went for a cruise up and down the Las Vegas strip during which we spotted many crimes against good taste, what we suspect is a genuine murder hotel, and a gigantic and truly scary gift shop.
The next day I dropped LD off at the airport and headed home (including a white-knuckle drive during a severe thunderstorm in the Texas Panhandle) to get back to work on all the WIPs I need to finish toot sweet. I also tried to finish a short story for Evernight’s Dark Captive anthology, but the damn thing blew up on me and turned into a short novel. So, um, yeah, look for Do No Harm this summer from Belaurient Press!
In other publishing news, I sold the German language translation of Trickster to Me and the Muse Publishing in Germany, I’m currently waiting on a decision from Juno Publishing in France as to whether they want to publish Empress of Storms in French, and a very good friend of mine will be releasing a hot and hilarious new M/M erotic novelette on Tuesday which I will be helping out with on promo (trust me, you want to read this). The current work queue includes (counts on fingers) Cross Current (Olympic Cove #4), Behind the Iron Cross, Prince of Scoundrels (Two Thrones #2), Do No Harm, and Trickster: All In. That should be enough to keep me going for a couple of months, don’t you think?
Nicola’s Progress Reports
Since I was poked by my buddy Peter on this:
Palace of Scoundrels (Empress sequel) – 1,645 words since I spent a fair amount of time outlining the thing. Nonetheless I’m hoping to have this done by RT — I would like to have it out and available, but that may not be possible. We’ll see.
Behind the Iron Cross – 76,039 words and I’m storming into Act Three as we speak. This one is gonna take mega editing, though.
Cross Current (Olympic Cove #4) – 3,538 words, and I came up with a refinement for my main character that is extremely organic and effective AND makes the story more diverse.
“Do No Harm” (Dark Captive antho entry for Evernight) – 1,520 words. This is the one I really have to focus on since the deadline is March 15th. It’s also the most difficult of the bunch because, well, here’s the antho description:
Dark Captive will be a collection of dark erotic romance stories featuring alpha men with fierce sexual appetites. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want. And they have their sights on one man. Possessive and bold, these heroes give their conquests exactly what they crave—to be taken … to be owned. Any resistance offered will be tested, but in the end love rules.
So, dubcon with a romance and HEA/HFN. Kinda hard to do that effectively in less than 25K words, but I think I found a way to make it work.
I’m also trying to catch up on some desperately needed housework in my spare time, but I think I’m breaking down and paying for a professional spring cleaning of the place after I get back from RT. My blue collar South Side soul is screaming blue murder at this, but my professional writer brain is saying, “You can spend time cleaning or you can spend time writing. Which is more productive and satisfying to you? Plus if you hire a service you’re pumping money into the economy, and you can give them mega tips to shut up that screeching soul of yours.” Works for me.
Who Am I, And What Did I Do With Myself?
Because DAMN, I woke up productive today. Got the car safety inspection knocked out at the same time as the oil change, stopped off at Sprouts and got healthy stuff for lunch and dinner, came home and balanced my checkbook, filed all unfiled personal and business receipts in preparation for tax work this week, paid all the bills including the mortgage, filed THAT paperwork, and put away all the swag bag makings and cleaned off my design desk (granted, my office still needs to be cleaned, dusted, and vacuumed, but I figure I can do that tomorrow). I even have laundry from Wild Wicked Weekend churning through the machines and posted a thank you in the FB group for the awesome organizers and attendees.
In other words, it’s amazing what happens when your perimenopausal uterus eventually gets its shit in gear and generates a period, which means that all the excess water you’ve been storing like a good little camel finally, FINALLY begins to drain away. And yes, that’s TMI, but I’ve had serious-ass cankles going on since the 21st, look like Ms. Michelin Man in all the pics from the weekend, and had to keep taking naps so that I didn’t wind up snoozing on one of the ballroom tables. The human uterus is proof positive that there is no Divine Engineer because no tech worth their salt would come up with an organ that wreaks this much havoc on the rest of the body.
Anyway, yeah, feeling better and am working up a plan of attack for the rest of the week which will include much writing, getting the taxes ready for our lovely accountant, and as much cleaning as I can handle without falling over and crying. Onward to March!
(Oh, and yes, I watched the Oscars last night. Stunning wins by Mark Rylance and Brie Larson, mystifying win by Sam Smith, and I absolutely loved all the snarking going on.)
Wild Wicked Weekend (aka THIS IS SO MUCH FUN!)
You may remember earlier in the week that I was rather nervous about attending Wild Wicked Weekend here in San Antonio. Yes, I’d attended RT last year but I wasn’t signing and could thus skulk about the periphery and not worry about being “on.” For WWW, however, I was one of the signing authors and would be visible, which made me somewhat nervous.
Yeah, I know how ridiculous that sounds. Thing is, I know how to be chatty as hell in my SF writer identity but doing the same thing as Nicola would be new, and I wasn’t sure how well my personality would go over at a romance convention.
As it turned out, I had absolutely nothing to worry about. First off, the trip down here took a half hour less than I’d expected (and by taking the 130 toll road I got to drive through some astoundingly picturesque countryside). The con was booked at the Menger Hotel, which is this gorgeous blended Victorian hotel with adorable rooms, a stunning lobby, and is right smack next to the Rivercenter Mall and across from the Riverwalk (which would become very important later). I checked in, was shown to my corner room with decor I kinda want to steal and bring home with me, then went down to the ballroom to register, drop off my raffle gift basket, and say hello to Sidney Bristol.
Somehow, I’m not sure how, I wound up staying and watching the introduction of the gorgeous male hosts for the con, most of whom are professional erotic dancers and put on, um, quite the show for us (I understood then why we were encouraged to bring lots and lots of singles). Evernight Publishing had sponsored a host named Kelii, so I made sure to grab a picture with him which I will not post here because I really should know better than to wear that shirt in public. Instead, here’s Kelii’s publicity photo. You’re welcome.
Friday was a bit more low-key, however, which turned out to be a good thing for me. WWW is designed to be more of a relaxacon than something where you’re scheduled every moment of the day. With that in mind, I had breakfast with Sidney and some new friends, ambled back to the ballroom for more chatting and a 40’s themed lunch and costume contest, then went up to the room to take a nap.
I wound up sleeping until 7:30 PM, mainly because my knees and Achilles bursae had been killing me due to doing a fair amount of walking around the hotel (lovely corner room? Yeah, situated diametrically opposite the ballroom in the hotel layout). Realizing that I simply couldn’t wear the slip-ons I’d brought, I decided to skip the trip to the local BDSM venue (ironically because I was in too much pain) and hobbled over to the Rivercenter, where I found a Footlocker and made a salesman very happy by purchasing an outrageously expensive pair of Asics that had arch support sent directly from heaven. A final stop at Johnny Rockets earned me dinner, then I hobbled back to the room to write and sleep.
An aside — do not fuck with your footwear if you know you’re going to be doing a lot of walking. If you wear something that provides good arch support, it fixes a lot of knock-on problems such as swollen Achilles bursae (the liquid-filled pads at the back of your heels) and aching knees. Granted, it then puts the burden on your muscles, but those are supposed to be working anyway so it’s good for them.
As a result, I woke up full of beans and with feet that felt (and looked) like feet and not like bastionadoed body parts. I made it to the ballroom in time for the lecture on the BDSM lifestyle by practitioners, followed by lunch and chatting with Sidney, Kelii (who is as charming as he is sexy), Blake (another one of the male hosts) and one of the lecturers. After that, it was time to head back to the room and grab books for the signing in a room just off the gorgeous hotel pool.
The signing? Went astoundingly well. I would like to state right now that I was hugely impressed by all the people who stopped by this newbie’s table to chat and buy books. It was a totally positive experience and makes me want to come back next year.
Also, my Square card reader still works, so points to me.
Which bring us up to now. I’m sitting next to an open window listening to people walk in and out of the Rivercenter and letting my phone recharge, and around six or so I’ll head back downstairs for dinner and the awesome female illusionist show scheduled for eight. More later when I get back!
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…
Nicola Cameron Writes 