Thursday, May 23, 2013

Writing a series becomes easy with Cerise's 5 Easy Steps!

Prequel #1 to my
Knights in Black Leather series
Writing a series—especially one that spans the past AND the present—can be a huge challenge to a writer's and a reader's life!

Writing my current KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER series, you know I have recently released a historical prequel...with another to come. So I am into this process like a crazy June bug!

Keeping the facts straight is one thing. But keeping the logic straight for the reader is even more important! You want them to stay with you for all the books and you want them informed, pleased and yearning for more!
How to do that without ticking off readers and keeping all your hair in your head?

First you buy a notebook at the local dime store OR your build a file— or maybe you do both—on your computer.

Then, you promise yourself that as you write you will take these 5 "Easy" Steps.

1. First step involves the names of characters. Keep them distinct.
    Always keep a record of your names, first, last and nickname. Excel spreadsheet works best because you can record last names and first in various ways.
    Always make certain that you have no repeats, like Jake or Jack or even Jackson. Merely the look of the first letter on the page triggers the reader's mind to record this as one or the other. You never want confusion in their mind or yours.
If you are really into this process, it is a good idea to also note their eye color, height, hair color, etc. just so you don't confuse one with another.
This also helps when you want to talk about any family characteristics they share!

Book #1, Contemporary in my
KNIBL series
2. Record any dates for actions in plot or dates of birth of characters.
    These are pesky issues that later on can cause you trouble because the facts are buried in the text. Write them down as you go—and be sure to change them if you change the text.
    Remember, too, that if your first book in the series debuted 2 years ago and you mark time in a different way in the fiction than chronologically, you need to tell the reader this. How? Either in the text itself, with such sentences like, "Jake and Susannah had been married for five months when Max came to town. He knew he had little chance of breaking them up. And to try would be so wrong."

3. Keep another record of family events or community events that recur.
Does the town have an annual Memorial Day Parade and is the Sheriff always the Grand Marshall of the event?
Did the local high school burn down in the last book in June?
Was the town founded by renegade outlaws after the Civil War?
You want to record any pertinent facts so you don't have to hunt them down every time you need a refresher.
If you want to also note where these references occurred in which book in the series and on what page, even better!
Most important, if any of these events are significant to this family, town or area for a particular reason, then you want to note how and why it is. Then, never vary only elaborate on that.

Book #2, Contemporary in my
KNIBL series
4. Jot down the major conflicts between your hero and heroine or others in the stories.
You do not want to write the same book twice in your series.
And if you can develop an over-arching challenge among all the characters then this enriches your series.
In KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER, the big challenge in town is that there are fewer women than men. The men, therefore, have learned to "share." Menages and a quatre unions are plentiful!
This makes for a lot of continuity, but it also means I have a lot of potential for internal and couples' conflicts.

5. Draw a family tree or a relationship tree.

Often times in a series, a few of the characters are related by blood or incident.  If this is so in your books, as it is in my KNIBL series, then it is vital that you draw one of these.  Even if it never appears in any of your books, this tree is an easy visual that will keep you on the straight and narrow when it comes to facts about their relationships.

Your readers will love it when you keep them organized.
And they will continue to buy your series of books!
BUY my series to see how this is done at:

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

An Erotic Re-telling of THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW! Morticia Knight gives us a yummy taste!

All buy links below

Thank you Cerise for letting me guest at your blog today! I am excited to share my latest release from Total-E-Bound publishing, and part of their Clandestine Classic line – The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I know many of you may be wondering at just how sexy a story about a Headless Horseman and a gangly schoolmaster could possibly be. Well, I assure you that this MMF ménage is quite lusty. To help calm your concerns, I will point out the horseman is not involved in any hanky-panky – he’s just his typical naughty self when it comes to scaring people half to death. However, a very talented third party is, but you will have to read the whole story to find out just who.
There’s another thing I ought to mention for those of you not familiar with what a Clandestine Classic actually is. We take a classic story, and without changing one word of the original, we add the racy bits that were never included way back when. Also, it is crucial to maintain the voice of the original author so that the reader isn’t jolted out of the story every time they get to an erotic encounter, which was quite the challenge for me – but also very fun. Speaking of erotic encounters, here is an excerpt from my telling of Washington Irving’s Sleepy Hollow:

From The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving & Morticia Knight
MMF Menage/Rubenesque/BDSM

By the time we had cleared the top of the ladder, Katrina’s ample breasts were exposed to our eyes, her peachy nipples at a hard peak. All that she had left to divest herself of were her undergarments, and she did so slowly and saucily, creating more discomfort for my crotch. I could tell this would not do for what I had planned, wanting to take my time with her tied up to the railing and taking her downstairs as well where I could tie her to a post and whip her. I would not last in this condition.
“My dearest lovers, I’m afraid I need a quick release in order to facilitate this evening’s games more effectively.”
Both Ichabod and I were still near the top of the ladder standing in the loft, and Katrina—now completely nude—crawled over to us. She looked up at Ichabod and winked. He dropped to his knees, and they began to pull at the opening of my pants. Katrina tugged them down to my ankles, whilst Ichabod cupped my bollocks with his long fingers, teasing and tickling the underside in the way he knew I loved so well. He then presented my pulsing staff to Katrina, and she sucked it into her mouth greedily, taking it all the way in.
I suppose for the sake of clarification only, I should mention that whilst I am not short changed in the manhood department, my cock did not present as much of a challenge as Ichabod’s gargantuan member did. She suckled me in a hungry manner, pulling at my shaft with her hot moist mouth, sending delicious shivers up my spine. Ichabod replaced his hands with his mouth on my testicles, and sucked each in one at a time, licking them boisterously. As I was already in a fevered state before they began, their lusty mouths on both cock and balls simultaneously afforded me no chance to resist, and I spent my seed down the lovely Katrina’s throat. 
I fell to my knees in thanks to them both. I kissed each one in succession, my fingers entwined in their hair, tasting first my salt, then my musk on their tongues.

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow is available now at all of the usual outlets, including:

Total-E-Bound Publishing:

All Romance ebooks:

Morticia Knight Author Bio

Erotic Romance author Morticia Knight enjoys a good saucy tale, whether it is contemporary, paranormal, historical, ménage, M/M or BDSM - she loves it all! One of her passions is bringing people's fantasies to life on the page, because life is too short for even one boring moment. Her stories are volcanic in heat, deep in emotion, and sprinkled with doses of humor.
When not indulging in her passion for books, she loves the outdoors, film and music. Once upon a time she was the singer in an indie rock band that toured the West Coast and charted on U.S. college radio. She currently resides on the northern coast of Oregon, where the constant rain and fog remind her of visits to her family in England and Scotland when she was a child.
Morticia has a three-book series called Uniform Encounters set in the Southwest that features those yummy men in uniform coming out in 2013, and is currently working on both a Steampunk horror ménage, and a Sci-fi ménage.

Find her here:

Twitter: @morticiaknight

Monday, May 20, 2013

Jorja Lovett releases The Wolf on the Hill!

Welcome, Jorja Lovett and her newest release!

Book one in The Wild Irish Wolves Series.

Can two stubborn wolf shifters let down their guards long enough to take a chance on love?
Lone wolf Caleb Jackson is only back in town long enough to sell his late father's house, and the bad memories with it. He never expected to find his mate.
Good girl Mia Blake never behaves badly. Except for the time she shifts into her wolf, chases a stranger through Olcan Hills, and has the hottest sex of her life on the forest floor.
He has no desire to settle down. She is afraid to upset her family. But, with someone determined to destroy Caleb's inheritance, and his secret fling with Mia getting hot and heavy, moving on isn't as easy as he'd hoped.
Can either of them let down their guards long enough to take a chance on love?

Excerpt *Warning: Contains Adult Only Content*
Rain soaked Mia’s fur as she bounded through the woods bordering the Olcan Hills, relishing every inch of earth mashed beneath her claws. Trees became nothing more than a blur as she raced by, running to find her release out here where she answered to no one but nature. This was freedom.
When she reached the top of the hill she came to a standstill and released her primal scream of frustration in a howl, unleashing everything she couldn’t say to her overbearing family, pouring every hidden truth of who she really was into one long mournful call.
In the distance, another wolf echoed her cry and answered with one of his own. This was the reason her mother despised her shifting into her wolf form. She went kind of crazy and forgot all sense of danger in the excitement. Exactly the reason why she did it in secret. And now, here she was, totally exposed in the Northern Irish countryside, crouched and listening out for the intruder’s approach.
Snapping twigs and rustling leaves marked his stealthy journey towards her but she stood her ground, regardless of how loudly her heart was beating in her ears. The wind carried his scent and raised the hackles along her spine when she sniffed the air. Another shifter, but one she didn’t recognise. Big bro would use her pelt for a rug if he found out she’d strayed beyond the boundary.
Amber eyes glowed in the dark shadows as the large grey wolf stalked through the forest. She bowed in submission. Even if she had a clue how to fight, he was double her size and twice as powerful. He growled a low warning and sniffed her with interest, his wet nose nudging her clammy fur. Did he expect her to roll over and show her belly? Pride wouldn’t let her, but she was careful not to make eye contact as he circled around her twice in case he took it as a challenge.
She only lifted her head when she saw him pad away, heading back to the cover of the trees. He stopped, looked back at her, and cocked his head to one side. When she didn’t move he returned and nipped her ear. She yelped in surprise and indignation. Of all the nerve!
The rules of engagement were abandoned in the heat of her outrage and, in a snarling frenzy, she launched herself at him. For an animal so large, the grey wolf moved gracefully, dodging her attack to race ahead and leaving Mia in dogged pursuit.
Tree branches tore at her skin as she ploughed heedlessly into the woodland, but the pain dulled in the exhilaration of the chase. As they wove their way through the undergrowth, Mia’s anger subsided to let her long-neglected sense of fun take over.
He wanted her to follow him. She knew that from the glances he kept throwing back at her. So she stopped and slipped quietly behind the stump of an uprooted oak, waiting to see what he would do. White wisps of steam escaped from her nostrils as she fought to get her breath back and suddenly the area seemed too quiet.
With a thud Grey leapt onto the tree stump, and leant back onto his haunches ready to pounce. Mia took off again and this time she was the hunted. She didn’t get very far before he sprang and knocked her off her feet.
In a tangle of limbs they rolled through the leafy debris of the forest floor, shifting into their human form as they came to rest, with her pinned to the ground by a hard, muscular, naked body.
"Well, that was fun." He grinned down at her, making no attempt to get off her, his green eyes full of mischief.
"If you say so." Mia’s heart still raced but she was at enough of a disadvantage wedged underneath him without admitting she enjoyed the capture as much as the chase.
"I didn’t hurt you, did I?" He bent his head to kiss the scratches marking her shoulder and suddenly the only ache she felt was hidden deep inside.
"No." She swallowed hard as he ventured closer to her already puckered nipples.
"Do you want me to stop?" His hot breath on her sensitive skin engulfed her in a tide of hormones she hadn’t been ruled by in a long time, if ever.
Maybe a piece of her wolf was still in her system, thriving on the excitement and danger, but she was horny, and ripe for the picking. "No."
With a need to touch, to taste this handsome stranger on her tongue, she manoeuvred enough room to free her hands and wind them into his dark blond hair, pulling him down into a kiss.
He massaged her breasts, first with his hand, quickly followed by his mouth. The sucking and licking around her straining pink tips made her arousal too great to bear. She writhed against him, wet and waiting, but he let her suffer further still whilst he covered her mounds in tiny, exquisite bites.
Bewitched by the woods and her fantasy lover, she swapped the dull reality of her life for this moment, cavorting like the sort of woodland nymph she longed to be. Someone who lived without fear of consequences or judgement.
She wanted him. Prim and proper Mia Blake, who never stepped out of line, was lying naked in the woods with a stranger’s erection pressing into her abdomen, and she loved it. A restlessness seized hold as her body cried out with need. Her limbs trembled, her fingers and toes curled, waiting for that final act of completion. As dusk settled around them and an ethereal fog swirled between the trees, she lost herself in the erotic dream and let him sink into her.
Available from Total-E-Bound now
Author Bio
Jorja Lovett is a British author with both Irish and Scottish roots, which makes for a very dry sense of humour. Writing since she was old enough to wield a pen, it wasn't until she joined her crit group, UCW, that she pursued her passion seriously.
Now, with Joe Manganiello as her permanent muse, if she can leave the pause button on her Magic Mike dvd long enough, she hopes to spend the rest of her days writing steamy romances.
Find her on Facebook, Twitter: @jorjalovett, Blog, Website

Friday, May 17, 2013

What happened to women stolen by the Comanche? In my STEAL ME AWAY...

In my STEAL ME AWAY, Fancy Turner is stolen by a Comanche chief to become his bride. A few Anglos did become willing brides of this fierce Indian tribe of the south Texas plains.

More often than not, these captured women were raped, scalped or skinned and left to die. The Comanche felt they had cause to do such acts. Having their lands taken and their hunting game driven off by the new settlers—Anglo and Tejano—the Comanche were also decimated by the diseases of the settlers from which they had no natural immunity. Cholera and small pox swept through tribes with cruel ferocity.

But some Comanche seized settlers for other reasons.
Women were stolen, as Fancy is, to replace women lost to the diseases or to natural childbirth. Some were taken out of a feeling of attraction, as Fancy is. Was such possible? Yes. Definitely. Here in south Texas, many powwows occurred between the long knives and the lords of the south plains. On many occasions, white men and women met and conversed and traded with Comanches.

Children were taken to replace those lost to raids or disease or natural causes. Many of those children, if given the opportunity, returned to their original homes and families, but more often than not, they left and returned to their Indian families. Acculturation is a strong magnet.

One of the most recent non-fiction books to describe an Anglo child's capture is this one, EMPIRE OF THE SUMMER MOON, about Cynthia Parker who remained with her Comanche husband and gave birth to his son, Quanah Parker, one of the most famous Indian chiefs of the last century.

One reader today wrote to me to ask if there was more to Fancy's story. Oh, yes, there certainly is! MAKE ME YOURS is the second installment in her story, coming soon.

And the person in Bravado who writes her story is none other than the great grand daughter of Fancy, and grand daughter of Blade, the son of Bull Elk and Fancy!  Look for BIND ME CLOSE very soon!

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Bull Elk, chief of Antelope tribe, speaks in STEAL ME AWAY! 

   Fancy Turner knows it isn’t wise to hunger for the touch of the virile Comanche chief, Bull Elk. She should catch a husband from among the few men who returned to Texas after the Civil War. But tall, bronze Bull Elk, in his feathers and buckskin, is so handsome—and forbidden.
   When Bull Elk charges onto the ranch one morning and catches Fancy up in his arms, he knows he risks the anger of his own braves and the fury of the long knives to have her. He’ll risk everything to twist her golden hair in his fist, to caress the pale swell of her breast as no man has before him. He’ll have Fancy as his wife even if he has to fight his own people to make it so.
   Thrust into a world she doesn’t understand, Fancy expects Bull Elk to take her. But never in her darkest fantasies does she expect to enjoy it so much. Bull Elk’s touch is possession, his kiss a brand, and to her shock Fancy finds that the only future she wants is the one she imagines in his arms.
Copyright, Cerise DeLand 2013, All rights reserved.
   She was mine. Only one other man, my younger brother, would ever be allowed to touch her again.  And only if I gave him permission. As I sat there with her in my lap, testing my patience as my cock grew twice its normal size, I took my time caring for her. I kneaded her aching limbs and demonstrated how I would protect her, even from the likes of Knows Brown Bear.    He deserved to die by my knife for his audacity to fuck her. That upstart had been an animal himself, having taken my happy youngest sister when she was only twelve to his tipi. There he had plunged his rod inside her so violently, she had bled and died days after. Now Knows Brown Bear was dead at my hand for daring to touch the woman who would be my wife, my Shining Moon.
   I ran my hands over Fancy’s injured foot and knew she had twisted her muscles. To cure this, rest was best but we were far from our new camp. To marry me with a light heart, Shining Moon must learn that in addition to being her protector, I was kind. And so I tried the Anglos’ way to win a woman’s love.
   I seized a crystal length of her hair and wound it round my wrist. I smiled while I drew her mouth to mine. She gazed upon my lips too long to be uninterested. That she was intrigued swelled my pride and my cock. I had much to show her about how a Comanche loved his wife and I would begin with this command. “Kiss me again, my moon.”
   She jerked away. “I am surprised that you know how to kiss.”
   I gave her the distance her shock and her pride demanded while I stared into her glorious blue eyes. “I do know very well,” I said with humor.
   She did not smile. “You know much about us. And you speak English very well.”
   I nodded. I was calm. Why not? Her flight from me was unnecessary. “Thank you.”
   She shivered beneath my hands but her words were quick and bold. “How did you learn?”
   “My father’s brother took an Anglo woman to wife.”
   Those large, expressive blue-bonnet eyes widened in shock. “Took her?”
   I would tell her what was necessary to show we were not evil and that if she opened her mind, she could learn to love us. And me. “She never returned to you. She never wished to go.”
   Shining Moon swallowed hard, her nostrils flaring as she considered that. The idea that an Anglo woman would accept a Comanche stung her, but clearly it did not appall her. That confirmed for me that she was a smart woman, able to learn new ways without regret. “What is her name?”
  “Bird Sings.”
  “But…her white name. What was it?”
   I shook my head. “This I do not know. You may ask her. She taught her language to me, my young brother, White Hawk and my sister, Willow Talks.”
   “That’s how you can talk so easily with Herr Mannheim and the MacRaes at the powwows,” she said with some awe.
   I agreed. “We make peace.”
   She grabbed my hand and beseeched me with passion swimming in her eyes. “Oh, but Bull Elk you must realize that this capture will end the peace.”
   I hoped not. Yet I had not watched my father and his father lead our people against the settlers all my life without the understanding that they were eager to ride off and kill others. My decision to take Shining Moon as my bride had been a heavy burden upon my mind for many months. Despite the cost to peace in these hills, I had seized her. Even the Great Spirit had confirmed for me in a dream that her men would not find her until she fled a fireball. I would keep her from any such conflagration and firmly in my bed, her legs spread wide for me to pleasure her. “I will have you.”
   Her back stiffened, straight as an arrow. “They will come for me. Send out war parties. Hunt you down.”
   “I do not fear.” And this was true. My mind was quiet. “Your men are few. Brother has killed brother in your war for many years.”
   “Yes, even Sheriff MacRae and his older brother, the Ranger fought each other. But those two are strong and can gather many men from Austin and San Antonio.”
  “No,” I said with more compassion, then I spread my fingers and ran them through her hair. Her curls felt thick and heavy, soft as the down of one of their lambs. With unrelenting power, I drew her lips to mine and spoke upon her flesh. “I am stronger and I will keep you.”
   I kissed her then, her mouth all mine. Her will, floating into mine. Her body, pressing against mine. The persuasion she did not like. But at the feel of my tongue at the seam of her lips, she sighed and opened for my invasion. My tongue sank deeply into her cavern. As I predicted she would be, she was eager for me. And warm. And wet.
   As her pussy would be for me tonight.
   She broke our kiss. Her body heaving with outrage that she met my desire with her own. She pushed the flat of her hand against my chest and the tattoo I had the medicine man make for the sign of our coming union. “I will not be your slave. I would die first. I would find a way to—”
   “Do not die.” I covered her hand with my own and ground her palm against my aching nipple. “Live with me.”
     She struggled to wrench away.
     I would not let her go. With a grunt, I shoved my hand between her legs, she wore no covering to her cat. That I liked and grinned at her, sweet woman that she was. Beneath my fingers, she grew hot and I was tempted to lift her skirts and stroke her juicy flesh. She would admit tonight that she belonged to me. I would show her how well my lance would fill her. This plump gatto, I would tame and pet and suck. “I am yours and soon, you will be mine and no other’s.”

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Nibble my newest cherry? You know you need a Comanche chief today!

Fancy Turner knows it isn’t wise to hunger for the touch of the virile Comanche chief, Bull Elk. She should catch a husband from among the few men who returned to Texas after the Civil War. But tall, bronze Bull Elk, in his feathers and buckskin, is so handsome—and forbidden.
When Bull Elk charges onto the ranch one morning and catches Fancy up in his arms, he knows he risks the anger of his own braves and the fury of the long knives to have her. He’ll risk everything to twist her golden hair in his fist, to caress the pale swell of her breast as no man has before him. He’ll have Fancy as his wife even if he has to fight his own people to make it so.
Thrust into a world she doesn’t understand, Fancy expects Bull Elk to take her. But never in her darkest fantasies does she expect to enjoy it so much. Bull Elk’s touch is possession, his kiss a brand, and to her shock Fancy finds that the only future she wants is the one she imagines in his arms.

Excerpt: All rights reserved, Copyright, Cerise DeLand 2013
Fancy Turner and her sister are outside picking vegetables and flowers one spring morning. They argue about men and the losses during the Civil War. Suddenly, Fancy’s sister points to the hill above them.
   “Francine!” Collette screamed. “Don’t go! Look up at the hilltop!”
   Fancy whirled to her left, one hand up to shield her vision from the glaring sun—she stood stark still.    There on the ridge stood a party of half-naked mounted Comanche braves. A lot of them. Eight, nine, ten in all. By their build, Fancy could see a few were her age, maybe younger. All wore tawny loin cloths of buffalo hides, short boots of the same soft substance, long white and black hawk feathers in their shoulder-length ebony hair and nothing on their broad, bronze chests. Their leader, the tallest man among them, wore red paint across his nose and cheeks. His large, hell-dark eyes, he had ringed in black paint. Despite his fierce markings, Fancy knew who he was, and she smiled and waved at him.
   “Nothing to fear from him, Coll. That is Patuwa kum. Chief Bull Elk.” She continued to walk toward the party, refusing to comfort her insolent sister any more than necessary.
   “Wait, Fancy. How do you know that savage?”
   “He came to a powwow with Ranger MacRae and Herr Mannfried last month in Fredericksburg.” That day, Bull Elk had worn his ceremonial headdress for the meeting and long buckskin trousers. No shirt then either. The better to show off that magnificent muscular chest. She quivered recalling how attractive she had thought him then. How his gaze made her want his large hands around her waist.   How she imagined him kissing her lips. Her breasts. And even, oh god, her pussy. She cleared her throat, trying to rid her mind of her forbidden lust for the Comanche. “Ranger MacRae introduced me when I served them all food and lemonade.”
   “That doesn’t make him civilized, Fancy. You’d better not go near him.”
   “Don’t be a ninny, Coll. He’s fine. He speaks English too. I heard him.” She continued her way up to the ridge and stopped in front of the handsome Comanche who some said would lead his people to white folks’ ways. “Hello, Chief. How are you today?”
   Though she smiled at him in greeting, he narrowed those large umber eyes at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. “Fancee. Tur. Ner.”
   “Yes.” She nodded. “Nice. You remember my name.”
   One of his braves spoke up, gesturing to her and shaking his head as he pointed toward Collette.
  “Patuwa kum,” Fancy tried for some polite conversation, “do you…perhaps…go to Fredericksburg today?”
   Two other braves murmured to their leader and Fancy could make out that they spoke his name the way she had. From the amused looks on their faces, they were making fun of her pronunciation.
   So much for trying to be neighborly. Not eager to be an object of their ridicule, she bid them good day. She turned her back and trod along the stony path toward her family’s ranch house.
   “Fancy,” Collette called, “don’t you dare leave me here alone with these beasts.”
   Fancy didn’t bother to turn. Her sister didn’t deserve her consideration after the way she had spoken to her today. “Maybe they can teach you some manners, Coll. As for me, I am going home. Come, if you wish, or stay and reconsider your ways.”
   “You little bitch!”
  At the insult, Fancy halted in her tracks.
  At once, the air was filled with war whoops and Fancy felt the earth vibrate with the pounding of horses’ hooves.
   “No! Noooo!” Collette cried out.
   Fancy whirled to see Bull Elk and his nine braves charging toward her. Her fingers went numb. Her basket of flowers fell.
   Bull Elk rode straight at her. Her body frozen, her fears of being trampled by his horse turning her blood to ice, she cringed. Then she hiked up her skirts and ran. She didn’t get but two steps away.
   The Comanche chief yelled a heinous cry as he came upon her and scooped her up across his lap, hanging her over his horse’s back, face down. Air slammed from her lungs. Her head spun. She tried to scream and no sound came out.
   Bull Elk’s braves galloped beside him, chanting ear-splitting cries. He echoed their sounds as they raced across the hills.
   Still Collette’s cries rang in her ears. “Noooo! Oh, god, no. Bring her back! Fancy! Fan-ceeee!”
    The chief pinned Fancy down, his massive hand to her spine. Her long platinum waves escaped her bun and cascaded around her face. Her fingers scraped tall grasses as Bull Elk rode like the wind across the rough terrain. She winced, curling her fingers to her palms. His companions rode nearer and nearer to them so that dirt and stones cast up from their horses’ hooves hit her in the face. Clamping her eyes shut, she heard Bull Elk call to them, curt commands she took to mean, Hurry. Others follow. Their wails frightened her so that she feared she die of it. Breathless, her lungs straining for air, her ribs bruised from the galloping of the horse across the barren plain, Fancy feared all hope was lost for rescue when Collette’s shrill demands died in the distance behind her.
   She writhed but Bull Elk hooked his arm around her, bent over her to keep her firmly across his saddle and rode on. And on. And on.
   And she wished he would never stop. For when he did, Fancy understood from tales of so many others who had been captured by the Comanche, that he would strip her, scalp her and maybe even skin her. She fervently prayed before that happened, she would die.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

STEAL ME AWAY, out today! Stolen by a Comanche chief! YUM!
The prequel to my KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER series, STEAL ME AWAY is a book I had a wonderful time researching.
And lemme just say, yammers to the cover artist who captured (ahem) BULL ELK so well. Fancy Turner, too!
He is delicious, I think, in print and in person.
Imagine. Being stolen and loving every second of it...almost!
The Comanche of the south Texas plains were not gentle people. In fact, they were to many the most fierce, the angriest ones to confront the Anglos and Tejanos who came to settle here.
Because very few Comanche remain, I had a devil of a time researching.
But let's here it for my hubbie who, while on TDY in Oklahoma, found the most marvelous reference on them.
I had read bits and snatches in other books devoted to other subjects, but here in STEAL ME AWAY, you learn (really you do!) what I learned. And it is historically accurate, down to the last few chapters...which I will unmercifully tease you with and say, you must read to learn!
Bull Elk is one of my most favorite heroes...and I hope you agree!

Monday, May 6, 2013

Stolen by a Comanche? Dear Reader: It really happened! STEAL ME AWAY out tomorrow at EC!

Out tomorrow from EC:
did happen! Yes, Anglo women were stolen by the Comanche in south Texas, taken as brides and many decided to stay with their husbands.
     In STEAL ME AWAY, my first historical background to my contemporary KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER series, Francine Turner tells the story of her abduction, her "marriage" and her life with the Comanche chief, Patuwa kum, or as he was known to the Anglos, Bull Elk.
     Fancy is the youngest of three sisters who live in the Texas Hill Country in 1860s. The Texans are devastated by the loss of so many of their men during the Civil War. The Texas regiment of General John Hood fought valiantly as many of the battles such as Antietam, Gettysburg and Chickamauga, but thousands were wounded and died.
     With so many men her age dead, Fancy, as her family called her, had few hopes of marrying, save for the two MacRae brothers who lived south in San Antonio. But she had met Bull Elk at many of the powwows that the Comanche and Anglos had together—and she was attracted to him.
    What you read in STEAL ME AWAY is very accurate. I did quite a bit of research, thanks to my husband who helped me find the best references.
But here are a few non-fiction books you may enjoy reading about real-life abductions.

A discussion of Cynthia Parker who was taken from her family in the Hill Country, tells how she decided to stay with her Indian husband and bore him a son who become one of the most famous cooperative chieftains of the Comanche nation. This book parallels the facts with the famous movie, The Searchers, starring John Wayne. (Do watch that movie!)

And one of my favorite non-fiction books about those stolen by the Comanche is THE CAPTURED by Scott Zesch, a former resident of the Hill Country and a descendant of one of those taken by the Indians. I met him years ago when he signed the book locally and I heartily recommend this for anyone who wants to understand the challenges of settling the American western plains.

If you are inclined to read fiction to learn history, I recommend NOT BETWEEN BROTHERS by David Marion Wilkinson and of course, LONESOME DOVE by Larry McMurtry.

Saturday, May 4, 2013

The Delicate Art of Juggling Sanity Balls! Sabrina York tells all!

Thank you Cerise, for this opportunity to share my thoughts.
I’ve been a published writer for a year now and I have come to a stunning realization. There is just not enough time in the day to get everything done.
I know what you’re thinking. Hello Sabrina. You’ve been a published writer for a year and you are just now figuring this out?
What can I say? I’ve been distracted. And when I am distracted I tend to miss things that are glaringly obvious to other, shall we say, normal people.
I’ve wanted to be a published author since I was six. It’s been my dream, my goal, my one shining ambition. I had no idea having my dreams come true would catapult me into such a crazy universe.
For the past year I have been riding the wildest roller coaster. Writing, editing, publishing, promoting, and having more fun than should be legal in a civilized society. As my alter ego, Sabrina York, I’ve met the most amazing people, gone to conferences, signed books, been interviewed on the radio, had a very exciting (five-minute) stint on a bestseller list and been showered with adoration and manure on review sites. (Thank God for umbrellas, that’s all I gotta say).
I also had a full time day job, took care of my family, dealt with a cranky (and old) car, nursed my dog and son through two surgeries, struggled with some health scares of my own AND volunteered for four nonprofits.
Phew. How many lives can a writer jam into one existence?

Here’s what they never tell you in the “So You Want to be Published” Playbook: When you get published, LIFE keeps happening! The universe is expanding…with geometric progression.
The exciting thing is, well, the universe is expanding.
On the down side, we have to keep up with that expansion.
I wouldn’t give up a minute of the past year. It’s been a thrilling adventure. But, as I mentioned above, there are not enough hours in the day…
There have been other epiphanies as well—some earth-shaking, some not—which I would like to share. Take from these “nuggets” what you will. Flush the rest.
·       REVELATION #1: Sleep is not technically necessary for a body to function. If a writer wants to be a writer (and an editor and a promoter and be on frickin Twitter until her thumbs bleed) AND have a day job and have a family and occasionally eat and bathe…sleep may be a luxury she cannot afford. On that note:
·       REVELATION #1b: Punch-drunk editing is pretty much the same as drunk editing. If you do it, you’ll regret it in the morning.
·       REVELATION #2: We all have a DayBasket to tend. What to put in your DayBasket is the most important decision you will make every morning after “how much caffeine can I fit in my coffee mug?” If a writer is tempted to multitask, i.e. pile task after task after task into the same DayBasket, the basket is likely to overflow and spill onto the floor. This is why it is essential for a writer to keep a cluttered house. You are less likely to notice the spillage.
·       REVELATION #2b: On the up side, you can take “Housecleaning” right out of your DayBasket and fling it over your shoulder into oblivion.
·       REVELATION #2c: Have a care what you put at the bottom of your basket—No matter how much or how little a writer stuffs in her DayBasket, something has to fall to the bottom. At best, the tender bulbs languishing there will be smashed into flat, indeterminate blobs by the hulking weight of responsibility and guilt.  
·       REVELATION #3: There are consequences to MultiLiving. If a writer tries to cram too many lives into the same physical body, some of those lives may leak out the seams in the form of her sanity. This leakage is often mistaken for “farts” but rarely smells as pleasant.
·       REVELATION #4: Do not write wearing bunny slippers. Because you wiggle your toes when you write (especially when you write to music) and your dog really likes to chew on bunnies.
·       REVELATION #5: It is important to remember what really matters. The most important things are:
o   Be nice. No matter how tired you are or how many Screaming Mimis you had to deal with at your hideous-dear-god-why-can’t-I-quit-my-day-job, you always have to put on a happy face and be gracious when you address your writerly world. Because, frankly, they don’t know. And you don’t want them to.
o   We cannot do it alone. It is important to HELP each other, writers and publishers and bloggers and reviewers…we’re all in this together and we need each other with equity that hurts.
o   And the most important thing of all? Readers. Every time I sit down to plot or craft or even frickin tweet, it’s for the readers. Everything, all of it, is for the readers. Because without readers, writing is just author masturbation, or authorbation. Which isn’t really a BAD thing, per se. Hell, I did it for years. It’s just so much more fun to do it with an audience.
So there you go. Five of the revelations that have helped me maintain my sanity in this brave new world. Do I question my determination to be a writer in the gray hours just before dawn when I haven’t yet finished editing and it is almost time to get up for work?
Because I am a writer.
I am making my dream come true.sabrina York tells us!
And frankly, sanity is overrated.
About Sabrina York
Sabrina is an award winning author of erotic romance with nearly a dozen titles available, ranging from sweet & sexy erotic romance to BDSM to erotic horror. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york or Facebook. Check out her contests, books and newsletter at
Her most recent release, Rebound—the first episode in a self published series about a group of sexy friends sharing a vacation house—hit #3 on the Amazon free erotica list in April. And yes, she nearly peed her pants with delight. You can read the blurb and excerpt on Amazon.  Or visit Sabrina’s Amazon author page for details on all her books.
And you might want to check out all her books because if you post a comment below, with the title of the Sabrina York book you’d like to win in your message, you will be entered in a drawing to win an ecopy. I’ll pick a winner from all the commenters when I return from the RT Booklovers Convention, where I am now, gleefully handing out Hot Dots!
Good luck!

Thursday, May 2, 2013

My One Truth about the writing life is...what?

Short BDSM
Historical Western

At the London Book Fair last month, author Nail Gaiman kicked off the event by taking about the Brave New World of publishing. Yes, unlike Scott Turow and his narrower point of view, Gaiman declared, in essence we are about to see an explosion in publishing.
I agree.
We already see all of the following:
·      Blogs about Trad vs. E
·      Blogs about Self-pubbers who do well giving advice on how to for those not selling so well
·      Formatting businesses
·      Graphic Design businesses
·      Copy Editors and Proofers
·      Previous 3 rolled into One Vendor
·      Interactive books (and that software development)
·      Interactive websites coordinated with books
·      Publicists who do all of the following:
·      Blog tours
·      social media tours
·      FB and TW specialists
·      newsletters, press kits, video press kits, you tube interviews, etc.
Romantic Suspense
My mind is awhirl.  And bottom line is that much in this brave new world is very similar to the Old Stick in the Mud World:
Some authors make it big.
Many can earn a living by writing REALLY great books.
Some of both groups made it by doing lots of PR, social promo, etc.
Some made it by luck.

But the real bottom line is that an author must write—first, foremost and ALWAYS—because she/he wouldn’t do anything else in this life and be fulfilled.
Clearly, I write what I like...and I like a lot of different kinds of books!
Regency erotica