Beginning January 1, 2013

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Monday, February 28, 2011


Mmm…which sub-genre of erotic romance do I write next? That’s the question bugging me right now.

I am a writer who needs change, likes to learn different nuances of this wonderful craft, try different themes, sub-genres, conflicts to keep both my readers and me interested. The same is true of my reading material, I love erotic romance, historical romance, contemporary romance and romantic comedy.

My debut release ‘Explicitly English’ is a contemporary erotic romance as is my second novella (currently under consideration) and so now I am feeling the need to write something different with my next story. But what?

Over on my blog for the last week or so I have put up a poll asking my followers and visitors to choose a preferred erotic romance sub-genre. Having only had a handful of responses so far, it’s hard to judge but the consensus seems to be you guys crave either contemporary or historical erotic romance.

But what about the ever popular paranormal? Or those luscious cowboys? The thrills of a romantic suspense with those naughty boys in uniform? Mmm, delicious, I’m licking my lips just thinking about it!

Even as I am writing this, the ideas are germinating…the lusts growing. I can’t help wondering how other writers create their stories. Do they start with an idea and immediately know in which sub-genre that story will fit into? Or maybe most writers aren’t like me and once they find the sub-genre they want to write, they stick to it. What do you think? I’d love to know what you guys write and/or read. Help me out!

Trawling through websites contemporary and historical erotic romance comes up trumps every time…so that’s it, it’s decided – my next project just has to be an historical. Yum, yum! Now then, which era…?

Bio: Rachel Leigh lives in the UK and is married to her own sexy hero. Even though this is Rachel’s first erotic romance novella, she enjoyed writing it so much, she has two more lined up and almost ready to go off to The Wild Rose Press. When she isn’t writing, you can find her reading, running around after her two daughters….or playing with her husband.

Friday, February 25, 2011


Bonus Material

Every writer has her own system, her own routines and rituals and methods to her madness. I am a total pantser. When I sit down to write, I have no idea where my story is going, who my characters really are, or what is going to happen. All these things are revealed to me as I go on, as the story grows and develops, but there are many twists and turns on this journey and not everything I write ends up making it into the final manuscript. In the end, I cut out lots of material and sometimes it’s because the writing sucks, sometimes it’s because things change and sometimes it’s because it just isn’t right.

But, I’m one of those people that can’t bear to delete and move on, and I especially can’t bring myself to obliterate decadent, sexy scenes, so I tend to keep things I like, but can’t really use, in a file I’ve creatively named, “Rejects.”

And so, today, I have a special treat for you. Some “bonus material” if you will. I cut the scene that you are about to read from Sculpting a Demon mostly because the chapter where it originally appeared was running too long. Also, Lila, my heroine sculptress, and Arien, my mischievous fallen angel hero, had just made hot, sexy love right before arriving at the club where this scene takes place and they decided they were going to go home and flirt with some exhibitionism in the very next chapter. It worked out much hotter that way and on every level, this scene was totally unnecessary.

But not unsexy.

And now I’d like to share it with you.

I hope you enjoy this little Sculpting a Demon extra bonus deleted scene!

The music rose in intensity and Lila could feel the steady, rhythmic thump of the deep bass vibrating up her calves as she followed Arien across the crowed dance floor.
His arms circled her waist and he spun her around, a smooth, 360-degree spin that made the world whorl and ended with her pressed up against a wall in a far, dark corner. Giggling madly, she slid her hands up his chest, over his shoulders and he took her mouth in a kiss that made her knees wobble. The feel of his tongue sent heat cascading over her, a wave raw desire that pooled in her center.
She broke the kiss, she had to, otherwise she might have been tempted to do something totally inappropriate in public. “We should get back.” She glanced over his shoulder at the dance floor, but she didn’t see Angie or Dyne anywhere.
He just grinned that wicked grin of his and captured her lips once more, kissing her until her head went fuzzy and her entire body heated. He caressed her thigh, his fingers making intricate patterns over her sensitive skin. Lila’s breath hitched as his hand moved steadily higher, gliding beneath her skirt and slowly climbing upward until he was cupping her. He grunted with supreme pleasure when he dipped his fingers under the lace of her panties and touched her bare flesh.
Lila moved against his palm, forgetting for a moment that there were people everywhere. Arien nipped her lower lip, his fingertips dancing lightly over the length of her entrance.
The music changed, the dancers cheered and reality crashed down upon her. She placed her hands on his chest and gently pushed him away. “I don’t think this is a very good idea.”
“On the contrary,” he said, keeping her close, his fingers working between her hot folds, teasingly coaxing her into submission. “It’s an excellent idea.”
“Arien,” she said, trying to be strong, trying to ignore the deep, incredible and treacherous ache that wanted his fingers to go on and on, to explore more, to touch her deeper. “Someone might see.”
“No, they won’t,” he said, and as Lila peered around him, she realized that he was right. His broad back completely blocked the outside world. No one would see a thing.
“You are very wet,” he murmured in her ear, and then nuzzled his way up her throat. He gathered her even closer, and Lila gasped when he added a thumb to his lower exploration. He concentrated on her clit, circling it, teasing it, pinching and caressing and stroking it. Lila panted in his arms, the heat and tension building within her with every playful stroke.
“We should stop,” she breathed, clutching him as he made her tremble. Her hips rocked along with his teasing hand and she moaned softly against his chest.
“Mmm, not just yet,” he said, and arched his palm, thrusting a finger deep inside her.
Brilliant color and light exploded behind her eyes and her fingers dug into his shoulders as he took her higher and higher. His mouth met hers, his lips muffling her cries as she rode his masterful fingers until her body shuddered and pulsed with release.
She let out a long, shaky breath and slumped against him, boneless and sated. A small, satisfied smile danced across her lips and Arien laughed and kissed her forehead.
“Now we can go back,” he said.

World-renowned neurosurgeon, jet fighter pilot, secret member of American royalty, seducer of legions of beautiful, outrageously sexy angels and demons and vampires and werewolves and the occasional pirate, Lisa Fox has done it all… in her own mind. In reality, she can generally be found at her desk with a cup of coffee close at hand. Or maybe a martini. It really depends on the day.

Feedback, comments, opinions, words of wisdom, chocolate cake and the addresses of super hot men are always appreciated and encouraged. Please feel free to contact Lisa any time.


Wednesday, February 23, 2011


The Creative Spirit – or Lack of it.

Everyone’s creative in their own way, I’m certain. My mother loves to knit (Christmas presents), my husband rarely reads fiction but writes non-fiction and is the best interior decorator, my brother draws brilliant (if somewhat mean) caricatures of people – usually me – and is an expert at bending the truth. I’m like my father, I love to write and I always have. So why haven’t I produced more? Because life has a habit of getting in the way.

I won prizes at school for composition but academic life didn’t encourage writing as a career. I wrote in my twenties but I never considered dwelling in a draughty garret tapping on an ancient Remington. I needed to earn a living. In my late thirties, I took courses in creative writing but then, as it does, tragedy struck and that was the end of my creative stream.

Writers’ block exists and it’s not something you can ask two hunky guys to come and take away. It persists. When life knocks me cattiwampus I can’t write because my brain won’t go into gear until I’ve got over whatever it was. About a year ago something happened to me and whoomph – I was felled by writers’ block again. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to write, on the contrary I was desperate to get back to my half-finished second novel – I just couldn’t.

Then, from just a simple conversation with a friend, I heard about an alternative medicine technique which piqued my interest. Now I’m not a newbie to these things: I’ve been tickled by reflexology, thumped and pounded by massage, I’ve even walked around the city with a needle sticking out the top of my head because it was forgotten in an acupuncture session. But this method my friend talked about was new so I thought I’d try it and here’s what happened:

Ruth, my practitioner, ensured I was comfortably cocooned in warmth which triggered a wonderful feeling of well-being. Without any oils or creams, her hands rolled lightly over my skin to loosen or tighten the muscles, depending on what they needed. Every now and again she’d pause and hold a muscle or tendon before wielding her “magic” thumbs, a technique which sent thousands of sensory messages to the brain. We didn’t say much, all was quiet and reassuring and although she told me to shout if anything hurt, I didn’t need to. Once or twice during the hour she left me to stew in my slumbering trance, before she returned to administer a dreamy head and neck massage. There was a spot of foot and leg massage and after an hour I staggered home, fell into bed and slept ten solid hours.

The next day I was back at the computer. With shaking fingers I opened the file and…started writing. Oh, what sheer delight to sink once more into my imaginary world and my friends the characters, of being unaware of the hours rushing by – it was back! And it is back. For good I hope.

Now the question is: have I discovered the solution to Writers’ Block?  Was it The Bowen Technique sessions? I think it might have been.

Sue Roebuck was born in the UK but now lives in Portugal with her husband. Her recent novel, Perfect Score, was published by Awe-Struck Publishing ( on Sept 21 2010. "Perfect Score" is set in mid West USA in the 1960s and is a story about family relationships, corruption, growing up, integrity, responsibility, and being a man of worth in a society of the worthless. 

She’s, thankfully, well into her next novel which is set between Norfolk in the UK and Portugal and it features a female bullfighter who is very bad indeed.

Monday, February 21, 2011


Inside love’s its unexpected connections

My readers know I’m not a straight romance writer nor am I prone to use sentimentality in my work. “Man gets woman and they live happily ever after” isn’t my strong suit, partly because my cynical nature doesn’t allow me to believe it, mostly because life is an evolving process that requires continuous growth, both within and without. Thus my hard stories that bring my characters beyond conventionality and challenge their beliefs, their prejudices if not their clichés in order to go to the heart of what really matters, transcending the superficiality of many relationships.

So I come to love, perhaps the most frequent cliché of all, but having St. Valentine right around the corner, it seems inevitable however many its misconceptions. Let’s take love at first sight, for example. Does it exist? Attraction, yes, definitely, the pull of the senses that melts hearts and stomachs with the craving to be with the one person, and no other, the blood racing with the closeness and the heightened perception of the senses. This is something real, physical reactions we can all relate to, which strangely enough happen also when there’s no love involved. And if many of my characters fall under this sensual spell, there are some like Christopher Templeton who hates women, yet cannot resist Ylianor Meyer’s tempting body

R M/F excerpt from The Sex Book 1 Virtus Saga

Gone all inhibitions, Chris’s desires ran wild, unsettling his usual self-assured nature until he doubted his lifetime convictions as the craving for Ylianor spiralled to a spasmodic level, wanting her with a fiery intensity that would have shocked him, had he not been under this odd spell. Resisting the urge to have her in ways his rational side had strenuously opposed seemed his only strategy at first, but when it failed, it left him with an unbearable ache only the damned woman could quench.
So when Duncan was pumping the wet cunt of her sprawled frame with legs circling Prince Caldwell’s waist to take his cock deeper, Chris could not resist temptation any longer. After plunging his demanding shaft in her yielding mouth, he watched his lover’s screwing until he could not bear the overwhelming need to taste her—something he had refused to do not just with Ylianor, but with any woman, never having kissed one, not even by mistake, nor stroked the tantalizingly silky skin, solely interest in the two available holes, mouth and ass. Everything else, including the pussy, was superfluous to his way of thinking so never had he felt any particular inclination to explore Ylianor beyond the satisfying pumping of either or both of her cavities. But none of these reminders could stop him from slipping out of her warm mouth as if someone else controlled his body, replacing the thick shaft with his tongue.
Shocked, Ylianor had flung her eyes open, her questioning green gaze staring at him and again, he could not prevent the husky whisper escaping his lips. “The gods help me, I want to taste you all over.” Then he had taken her mouth forcefully, like a conqueror on an expedition to claim the land as his own. His tongue ravished the sweet opening, which Ylianor surrendered immediately to his avid attentions, while his teeth bruised her soft lips as he went farther than mere kisses. In a frenzy, he wanted to swallow her, so he sucked her tongue all the way to his throat, grazing it with his teeth, holding it prisoner to allow him to sweep her at ease. Surprisingly, he loved her taste and wanted to drown in it, filling his senses with it in the hope it would never wash away. And the more he drank, the wider she opened as if sensing he would accept nothing but total compliance with his demands, whatever they would turn out to be.
Well, he had several in mind, even if they all began and ended with Ylianor.

No, love can’t just be the explosion of the senses however important that is in a relationship. No, to me it’s hard work, a slow building process earned with the sweat of a soul struggling to breach the distance with another soul and establish a connection that didn’t exist until they met, then took a form all its own like in Ilenio’s case

M/M excerpt from Visionquest

This time I directed the thought to him directly before I had to give voice to my feelings, even if the only way to make him understand was to lay my soul bare, which I did, pulling him inside me with a forceful tug. “My life was empty before I met you. I was just a simple puppy in a small village, an ignorant peasant destined to slave and work hard for a piece of bread, surviving only for the sake of my poor children.” I reached for my hair and unfastened them, letting the strands tumble down in disorderly fashion. Then I covered him with them, hair falling all over him, my groin pressing to his rear while my hands came around to embrace him. “True, what you’re offering is so much more dangerous than that quiet, simple, uneventful life.” I whispered in his ear. “However, it has nothing of the excitement, the power, the energy you’ve brought forth, a treasure that would’ve remained buried within if you hadn’t plucked it out.” I ran my fingers through his hair, mixing them with mine, enjoying the contrast of colors. “You complete my life now. Your strength overwhelms me, your human and beast side filling my every sense until there’s nothing left of me but you. And if I have to trade my life to feel just one more second of this…” I paused. “I will without any hesitation or regrets because however long or short, I’ll have lived it to the fullest, enjoying every second of it as if it had lasted not twice, but three or four times over.”
He shivered in my embrace, though I realized it was his tense muscles relaxing completely at these words as relief spread in both of us. Are you sure, little one?
Absolutely! Bending to bury my nose in his neck and hair, I breathed deeply of his scent. I want to stay with you, be your slave and guide at whatever cost, so please don’t send me away.
He managed to twist around, his gray gaze capturing mine. “And I won’t.” With a solemn look, he crossed his heart. “For as long as you want to stay.”
Then he tilted my chin up and my heart almost burst out of my chest with the stomach-crunching desire to taste him at least once the way lovers do, even if we were nothing like them. Senses spinning out of control, I worked hard to silence the insatiable craving and was about to re-establish some semblance of order when he kissed me at last, his lips pressing on mine, his tongue forcing my mouth open to receive the full taste of him, finally. Even before seeing him with young Bharton had spiraled my longing, I had dreamed, hoped, fantasized about this moment so many times, I thought I’d shatter in a million pieces simply because he gave me what he had long denied for reasons all his own. Instead, I surrendered completely, not just my mouth, but my entire body melting into his, holding nothing back, freely surrendering whatever part of me he wanted—everything at his disposal and at his convenience.
So he took me, right there on the castle tower, leaning against the cold wall with my legs spread out and ass pushed back as his thick cock sank to the hilt before banging, in slow motion at first. But he couldn’t keep it up for long. Overcome by the heat of passion, which burned with the most gigantic fire I could remember, probably because he was echoing his sensations over mine, everything uncoiled from the pit of my shaft to explode against the wall as his pounding grew unbearably sweet and his frenzied twitching told me he was coming all over my ass.

And finally, unrequited love, too, is quite an acceptable solution particularly for soul mates starting with Martin (To Seduce A Soulmate) and his need to seduce what should be his by definition, and Sean (Tasting Leon’s Mark), struggling with his own connection to Leon, a man he manages to corner in Re-Scue.

M/M excerpt from To Seduce A Soulmate

Martin stretched across the table. “Just answer me honestly. Before you met me, have you ever felt you recognized a complete stranger before in your life? Or felt an electrical current run through your body merely by standing next to someone? Or felt your heart beat so fast you feared it might fall out of your chest?”
With a heavy heart, Drake realized there was no point in lying so he had to shake his head in denial, long hair flying around.
“But you did the moment you saw me, right?”
Having felt all that Martin had described, if not more, Drake’s head reluctantly gave in to tentative nod in agreement with the devil’s insight.
“And you still need more proof?”
“I don’t think these signs mean anything. My first crush was surprisingly similar to what you just described…except the recognition part, but that may be a trick of the mind.”
Martin eyed him coldly. “Suit yourself, Pirate. You’re free to believe what you like and I’m not going to convince you. It would be a wasted effort. On my part, I’m just happy to know I’m not crazy.

M/M unedited from Re-Scue

Sean looked at the knife hanging in mid-air. It amazed him that Leon would be willing to give up the game, sacrificing their sex and blood connection for some unknown future. Of course, it was just the heat of the moment. If Sean had allowed it, Leon would have regretted it later. The game was their connecting bond, not just physically, but mentally and spiritually. The knife went deeper than skin, touching more than one level of existence, so before it slipped from Leon’s fingers, Sean reached out and grabbed his hand.
“If you promise to control your temper, there’s no need to throw away the knife.” He watched as Leon placed it on the table, next to the coffee cup. Then he took a deep breath. “I want our game back, but I can’t live by your fucking rules anymore. I don’t expect you to feel the same about me.” His voice grew husky. “I can accept the fact that love can be one way only. What I don’t accept is that I’m not free to express my feelings for you.” He sighed. “I particularly don’t want you storming out or…killing me for being in love with you. I’ve tried so hard to play it your way and be your detached toy, but it’s wearing me down. I pretended that all I cared for was the sex and blood, but I was only fooling myself.” He took a deep breath. “I love you! There’s never been anyone else in my life…all my lives, comparable to you. When I’m with you, it’s much more than just sex or blood. I feel the connection that goes far deeper than skin level and it makes the game so much better.” He caressed Leon’s face. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I love you. I love the hunt, the chase, the surrender, the beating heart and the adrenaline pumping wildly whenever I’m close to you. It’s pure torture at work, being next to you without being able to touch you. In the middle of a meeting, I’d love to get up and kiss you right there, in front of everybody. When you talk of business, all I think about is how much I want you to fuck me. I want to shout it to the entire world, yet I keep my mouth shut for convenience sake, and because you’d slice me in a million pieces if I dared.”

Laura Tolomei

Friday, February 18, 2011


By all outward appearances, I'm a WYSIWYG person—you know, What You See Is What You Get. I cry when I'm sad, laugh when I'm happy, and frown when I'm angry. In short, card sharks would be happy to be seated across from me at a poker table! At least that's the "me" known to casual friends and acquaintances. To those people, I appear to be lighthearted, quick to joke, quick to laugh, usually polite and even-tempered. That's the public me. Many of them have never met the writer me.

The writer me is someone whose thoughts are rarely shared and never vocalized in polite society.  The writer me sees something in my neighborhood or in the news, reads something in the paper, and breaks that event down into components—setting, characters, actions, motives, emotions—and analyzes each. How would it feel to be in that situation? What would I do? How would it affect the rest of my life? What would a different character do, think, feel? 

When in writer mode, I don't judge, I study, and many times I'm fascinated by what I find: lifestyles that might have been beyond my comprehension a day or two earlier, points of view I never would have considered. Over time, these revelations have helped me create characters that are far outside the realm of my everyday reality. Some of them share my personal values, but some do not. Some are nasty, just plain bad people who say really bad words and do really bad things, and that's what surprises casual friends and acquaintances most when they read my work.

They expect the writer Leah, and by association her characters, to sound and act like the person they know. They wouldn't be surprised at a flash of anger here or there, an occasion sneer of contempt, but they certainly wouldn't expect to find violence, foul language or, help me, graphic sex. Yet each of those elements has found a home in my writings at one time or another, sometimes all at once.  

When I launched my debut novel this past summer, I was overwhelmed by the support and encouragement of so many. It humbled me, and worried me at the same time because I knew that some of the story elements would be distasteful to some in my group of friends. Surrender to Sanctuary is a romantic suspense about two FBI agents who go under cover in an adult (BDSM) club to solve a murder, and while the book is not erotica, some of the content might be more erotic than some can handle. So as I thanked my friends, I tried to warn them as well. "It's not what  you'd expect," I'd say. "It's not politically correct.  And it's gritty. So if you're looking for fluff, don't read my book!" Some of them paid attention, others didn't. 

After the book's release, I'd typically get one of two reactions: Either, "OMG, you're an amazing writer! Loved, loved, loved the book!" or… "Leah! Leah! OMG Leah, how could you write this stuff?!" Naturally I'd bask in the first response. But that second? At first I wanted to run, to hide where no one could find me. I started asking myself, How could I write that stuff? Is something wrong with me? Is there some secret perversion hiding inside my soul, badgering to escape, to inflict itself on the unsuspecting populace around me? It got to the point where I stopped telling people about the book, the equivalent of the kiss of death to a writing career.

Luckily, after a while, that sense of shame got old. After a while I became annoyed with the tongue lashings from so many that "you're better than that." After a while, I'd had enough. Who the heck are you, I'd say in my imaginary response, to tell me what I can and can't write about? Who are you to tell me what is and isn't acceptable, what is and isn't good enough? True, the book has some gritty parts, but at its essence it is a love story, a story of self-sacrifice, a story of good vs. evil. And it's pure fiction.

I think that's when I truly became a writer at heart—the point where I got it. I'm telling a story, about imaginary people and events. I'm not  writing my autobiography. I don't use that language (at least not too often), but my characters might.  I certainly would never intentionally inflict bodily or emotional harm on the innocent, but my characters might. As for the graphic sex…hey, what goes on between two consenting adults is no one's business .

So if you're aspiring to be "a writer," don't be afraid to let those demons loose. Don't be afraid to bare your soul. Don't be afraid to let your characters speak and act. Be true to the voice in your head. For every person who's shocked by your words, by the action taking place, there will be another who says, "OMG, you're an amazing writer. I loved, loved, loved the story!"

Happy reading, and writing!
Leah St. James

Leah's fascination with all things written began when she picked up her first Dr. Seuss book, and she has rarely been seen without a novel, or pen and paper, close at hand since. She enjoys delving into the deepest of human emotions—love and hate, bravery and cowardice, joy and despair—and how we, as human beings, relate to each other. Her greatest hope is to touch her readers' hearts and help them experience the joy that only love can bring.

Married with two grown sons, Leah is a native of the beautiful Central Jersey Shore but now enjoys the peace and quiet of Virginia's Hampton Roads. 

Visit Leah at
Leah's debut novel, Surrender to Sanctuary, is available at The Wild Rose Press,, and other on-line book sellers. For more information about Leah and her writing, please visit her at

Wednesday, February 16, 2011


With Valentines Day just over, I guess our thoughts have turned to love. Love can come in many forms. It can hit you straight between the eyes, and you fall instantly in love, or it can be a slower process.

Cue light romantic music playing in the background.

I first met my husband twenty-eight years ago. I don't think it was love at first sight, but there was something going on. I remember the night in question as though it was yesterday, when he spilt his beer all down my clothes, and said, "Don't worry, it's only an old coat."


Did you hear that pleasant music grind to a screeching halt?

Now, I can almost hear you ask, why did you even consider him as a potential lover? Well, I suppose I've always had a soft spot for the devil may care rogue, with the delicious cheeky smile.

So if you're on a date, or at a party and things go disastrously wrong, don't worry. You may have just found Mr Right!

In my latest cowboy romance things didn't start out too well for Ash and Zack.

Excerpt from Shackled by the Cowboy Drifter, when Ash and Zack meet for the first time.

With pad and pencil ready, Ash walked up to table five. He was still studying the menu, so she let her gaze wander from the tip of his cowboy boots, past the tight fitting Wranglers, to his strong muscular chest.
This guy did some serious workouts. She could clearly see the six-pack abs under his tight-fitting clothes.
Girl, you need to get a grip and stop salivating.
Maisy was right. She’d been without a man for far too long. Nine months seemed an awful long time to be single, but then hadn’t she been burned badly by Rob? She hadn’t looked at another man since they’d split. Well, not until now.
Ash noted his black, wavy collar-length hair that fell about his temples, the strong jaw line, the way his large hands held on firmly to the menu. His skin the color of warm teak appeared rugged and weather-beaten. He looked to be in his mid-thirties. When his eyes finally locked with hers, she swallowed hard. Bright blue and striking against his well-tanned skin, they simply took her breath away.
"What can I get you, cowboy?" Her voice sounded shaky even to her own ears, and she hoped he didn’t notice.
"I’ll have ham, with eggs over easy." She assumed from his drawl he was from the South. So he wasn’t a local. Too bad, the guy was just probably passing through.
"Say, do you have any grits?"
She shook her head, pointing with her pencil. "Only what’s on the menu."
"Hmm, then I’ll have hash browns and coffee."
He nodded as she repeated his order back to him. He seemed to notice her for the first time, his gaze slowly travelling from her hands to her face. She had a sudden feeling that he’d ripped the clothes right off her.
"Is that an English accent?"
"Yes," she answered. Now that he’d turned toward her, she noticed the cuts on the one side of his face. The man looked dangerous, and just a little exciting.
"Don’t tell me. You came to seek your fame and fortune in Hollywood but ended up waiting tables instead." With an amused expression on his face, he leaned back in his seat and waited for her to answer.
If she hadn’t been so annoyed by his glib observation, her jaw would have dropped open. He had her life story to a T in just five minutes flat. She gave him a tight smile. "Yes, we’re a sad bunch. Like the song said, ‘All the stars that never were, are pumping gas and parking cars.’ Guess you now know why I work in this sleazy diner, serving dumbass customers."
Before he could say anything, she lifted up her notepad and continued, "I’d better place your order, cowboy." With that, she turned and walked away
Okay, so when we meet, it's not always perfect, but who cares. Please leave a comment and let me know how you met the love of your life.

At present Jan Bowles lives in Lincolnshire, England. As a young girl she lived in Los Angeles. When she's not writing romantic fiction, she loves painting landscapes and taking casual walks across the Fens. Jan Bowles writes exclusively for Siren-Bookstrand.

If you would like to know more about my books and me please visit my website

Monday, February 14, 2011


Happy Valentine's Day!

Ah, it's that time of the year again. Valentine's Day. The day of love... filled with flowers, chocolates, romance, good vibes, and the Antichrist. No. Hold on a minute. The Antichrist isn't usually mentioned or even thought about, on the day of love... is it? Nope, that's just in my story.

That's right. My latest release from Eternal Press is a novella called, NUMB6R OF TH6 B6AST. It takes place around Valentine's Day, and although the air of romance doesn't escape it, there are a lot of other, darker things going on.

It's not easy being the Antichrist...

All Luci wants this Valentine's Day is a date. So when she runs into her teenage crush, Damien, out of the blue after so many years, she’s willing to see where things lead. What she doesn’t know is that Damien belongs to a fanatical group that is convinced the Antichrist will rise this year.

Usually a bunch of whackos wouldn’t worry her. Not when her life is already full of them. Except this bunch is convinced that she’s the Antichrist, and they are determined to stop her rise to power.

Now that she's reunited with Damien, Luci's not going to let these crazy, robed men stop her from enjoying her first date in ages. She’s determined to have a good time...even if it kills her.

My paranormal romance story (with a touch of urban fantasy) is told by a snarky heroine who's just reunited with her gorgeous teen crush. Except, he's no average love interest, and has a whole bunch of secrets. Secrets that can ruin anyone's day. Well, maybe not Luci's. No matter what's going on, or if someone seems determined to threaten and get to her, she's not going to let anyone keep her from enjoying her first real date with Damien.

When the idea for this story came about, I knew I wanted to tackle it with a good dose of dark humour. I mean, how can an average person deal with the fact that they're more than likely the rising Antichrist and will one day destroy everyone/everything, if not with a little humour? No one, especially when it's completely out of their hands.

I've always found the concept of the Antichrist fascinating, and very creepy. I mean, the concept of Satan being born into this world in the body of a human to appear sincere and good when in fact there's another, much darker agenda in store, is pretty scary. I also enjoyed watching The Omen movies, Rosemary's Baby, and even Lost Souls because of it. So writing this story was both a lot of fun, and quite a dark journey.

Luci might look at the world through the eyes of an average (and sometimes even self-involved) woman, who likes to shake things off with laughter and jokes, but at the root of this story is one woman's struggle to overcome a darkness she was destined to fulfill. It's also a love story between two people who wasted a lot of years, because too many obstacles and secrets stood in their way.

I really hope that you enjoy Luci and Damien's story. There really is a bit of everything--mysterious men in robes, chases through city streets, ancient myths, a nun, a conspiracy theory nut, romance, demons, secrets, and even a little bit of spice.

Thanks for reading!

NUMB6R OF TH6 B6AST is now available from Eternal Press. (Use this promo code: 612JMZN67VZX @ the Eternal Press website & get 25% off your order.)

Yolanda Sfetsos

Yolanda Sfetsos lives in Sydney, Australia with her husband, daughter, and cat. She loves to spend most of her days writing stories. Her muse doesn't like genre restrictions and is always happy to toe the dark edge of storytelling. When she’s not writing she spends as much time as possible with her small family. She also enjoys watching movies, TV shows and reading.

Congratulations to our Valentine's Day Blog Party GRAND PRIZE WINNER!

The winner of our Valentine's Day Blog Party GRAND PRIZE of her choice of either a WiFi Kindle, a WiFi Nook or a $150 Amazon/ GC is:




We had an amazing turn out for the party with so many wonderful visitors. I hope everyone, authors and guests, enjoyed their weekend.

Keep an eye out for the Spring Fling coming up in April -- we'll be giving away more great prizes, including another eReader, then!


Welcome To The Party!!

It's being held here, and at the LASR guest blog and the Goddess Fish Party Pavilion. 100 authors in all shapes, sizes and genres will be sharing with us over the next couple of days about love, writing, life and more. We hope you have fun reading their posts.

But ... even better? YOU CAN WIN BIG. Every comment earns you an entry.

Winners choice of either a WiFi Nook, a WiFi Kindle or a $150 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC!

FOUR (4) winners will receive $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GCs!

Plus... we'll randomly give out $5 GCs to commenters throughout each day.

So... Visit the blogs all day long and comment. Fun AND prizes! What more could you want?

NOTE: We need to be able to email our winners, so make sure you either have an email address associated with your profile or include one with your comments. If you don't, you'll be disqualified

Grand Prize winner will be drawn Monday morning, 2/14/11 and notified via email that day.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Love is in the air...

Hi! I know I'm late to the party. I got sidetracked today by 35 very loud 5 year olds. Yep, 35! My twins had their birthday party today and I'm not sure my ears are ever going to be the same again LOL. So, I thought I'd share a little about me and post a couple of quick excerpts.

About Kaily
Kaily Hart, a seemingly straight-laced mother of four left corporate America and a high-powered, lucrative career to be a stay at home mom. Ha! That lasted about four weeks, during which time she realized she had a deeply repressed dream  - to write. And romance at that! By day, Kaily plays conservative wife and soccer mom, but at night crafts hot and steamy tales of romance and love with gorgeous heroes who wouldn’t dream of leaving the toilet set up. Ever. She’s smart and sassy, at least in her own mind, and is trying her best to bring the alpha male solidly back to contemporary romance, one hot story at a time. Two years ago she never would have thought she’d be doing this, but now that she is? Well, you couldn’t pay her enough to do anything else.

I have 2 books currently out with Ellora's Cave (PICTURE THIS and PAY UP) and another one due to release (hopefully) next month PLAY ME). Yeah, I have a thing for 'P' words :).


     Oh my God, Samuel Steele was a walking, talking wet dream.
     She’d drooled from afar plenty, but up close he was downright gorgeous. Every woman in the place, and even some of the guys, had checked out his tight butt, flat abs and broad shoulders, and although he’d never worn anything but a suit to the office, that didn’t stop imaginations from running riot. His hair was dark and thick, his skin tanned, and regardless of the time of day, his jaw always seemed darkened with at least a day’s beard growth. And his eyes. She’d never been close enough to make out their color before, but they were a dark, piercing gray. They should have looked cold, but the way he was looking at her made her wonder if someone had turned off the air-conditioning.


“Really? Been to a lot of strip joints, have you?”
Rio shook his head, his gaze swinging around to rest on her. “If I’m interested enough in a woman to want to see her naked, I want to be the only one looking.”
Oh, boy. Why did that have to sound so damn hot?

And a teaser (unedited) from PLAY ME:

    “Show me your vibrator.”
    Lily let her hands slide from the muscled slopes of his warm shoulders. She was pretty sure she’d passed the point of being able to pretend any kind of worldly sophistication, but she thought she’d give it one more shot just the same.
    “Um…what makes you think I even have one?”
    He smiled. It was wicked and full of knowledge.
    Yeah, that was probably a fail.


If anyone would want to contact me (which I would love by the way) or just keep up with what I’m doing, you can find me all over:



Nighttime Excerpt - The Wolf and The Druidess

Well here it is late Sunday night, most people are watching the Grammy's. Soon it will be Monday and Valentine's Day.

So here's a little nighttime excerpt from my Paranormal/Erotical/Romance, The Wolf and The Druidess:

Her mother had been so proud and told everyone, "See how wise my daughter is, so blessed by the gods, the druids took her to foster." Few were chosen, training took many years, and a druid’s ranking in the tribe placed as high as the chief’s. Seren was surprised how much older she was now, five and twenty years, still she had a need for her mother. The loss was deep. It left a hole in her. Warmth and joy would return to her heart tonight when she celebrated her favorite feast day, Samhain, the New Year, with her departed mam.

Just moments ago she heard the call of an owl, the chirp of a bird, and the whistling wind, but the forest had suddenly grown so quiet she could hear the crackle of dried leaves and the rustle of her elbow brushing across a bush.

As she walked, she glimpsed a creature passing like a black shadow between the spooky trees. It crept in stealth like part of the darkness itself. A shiver shot through her. But the mysterious being didn’t make a sound and seemed uninterested in her. Seren held the torch out as she turned around, searching for anything there. She saw nothing.

Seren kept to the narrow path as she walked deeper into the forest. She’d sensed something. Mayhap a spirit, they came to earth tonight, but she knew it wasn’t her mother's ghost, she’d recognize her.

There was no turning back. Whatever it was, she would make peace with it. Seren had to bring the Samhain meal to her mother and honor her, yet she couldn’t shake the odd feeling someone watched her.

Holding the torch high, she chanted. “The torch is burning, the year is turning, by this light, I greet the spirits of Samhain night.” Seren called out, “Who is there? Be you sprit or man?”

No one answered and she picked up her pace down the dirt path through the thick forest, so dense with trees. They crowded in on her, like a trap. Brandishing the burning torch like a bright weapon, she hurried on shaky legs toward the cairn. She gasped, nearly tripping over a large fallen branch, but caught her footing.

Happy Valentine Day,

Cornelia Amiri

A Valentine's Delight for those who can't cook!

We all love a little of something sweet to finish meal with and we can all go out and buy a cake but on Valentine's day you want to go that little bit further and make things yourself. This can often cause complete failure when you try to attempt a recipe for a spectacular cake and end up with just a fantastic fail instead.

Well never fear, Victoria Blisse is here and I have the perfect solution for one of the sexiest and easiest desserts you can imagine. In our house it's called chocolate dip and the great thing is this recipe does work for all the family but also works on a more intimate and sexy one on one setting too.

What you need is:

Some of your favourite chocolate broken into bits.

A bowl (a glass one, like pyrex is your best bet, something that can take heat)

A quarter filled pan of boiling water.

And fruit of your choice cut into easy to handle chunks.

To make your chocolate dip you boil some water in a pan then turn the pan down to the lowest setting and leave it at a very low simmer. If your water is still bubbling turn it off completely, you don't want this to get too hot.

break up your chocolate (just an ounce or two should be plenty) into the glass bowl and place it over the pan of recently boiled water so the bottom does not touch the water.

Now you leave your chocolate to do it's thing and you can get on with chopping your fruit. Things like strawberries and grapes you can leave whole but you might want to chop bananas or apples or any other bigger fruits you might use. Marshmallows are also yummy dipped in chocolate but do nto count towards your 5 a day!

Now check your chocolate, give it a little stir and see if it's all melted. If it is it is ready to go if there are still a few lumps just leave it for a little longer. Don't over stir, this can make your chocolate go weird.

When you are ready carry your chocolate to the table/sofa/floor/bed with your plate of fruit and enjoy dipping. Extra fun can be had if you feed your partner with the drippy chocolate covered fruit.

I leave the rest to your imaginations! Enjoy.

Insatiably Naughty

What a fabulous party Whipped Cream has put on today! I wanted to add the blurb and a hot excerpt for my upcoming Loose Id release, Insatiable, out this Tuesday. Check it out on the Coming Soon page HERE or visit my blog HERE to read a bit of backstory about Insatiable...including my original inspiration for Rachel and Shawn.

Here's the blurb: 

Having all of her is the only thing that will satisfy him...

Shawn Griffin and Rachel Cooper have been best friends practically since birth, thanks to their families’ close relationship. But for the past few years, Shawn has been fantasizing about getting his best pal in his bed. When she announces she’s taking a trip to reconnect with an old lover, Shawn knows the time has come to put up or shut up. If she wants to go to New York City, fine. But he’s coming with her.

Rachel doesn’t know what to think of Shawn’s sudden interest. Determined to live life on her own terms, she refuses to fall right in line with her wealthy family’s wish that they get married and have perfect little babies. She just didn’t count on how determined her seemingly laid back -- and extremely sexy -- best friend would become after setting his sights on what he wants. Her, over and over again.

But when tragedy strikes, Rachel begins to wonder if she’ll lose not only her lover but her best friend too. 

And a hot excerpt:

Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel saw Shawn lunge and let the towel go with a shrieking laugh as he seized her waist. He whirled her back against the glass sliding door, using his arms to cushion the collision as his mouth came down hard on hers.
Reeling from the kiss, she clamped her legs around his hips as he turned and lifted her onto the narrow railing. His strong arms were her only protection from a nasty eighteen-story drop.
“Still wanna play, little girl?” he said against her mouth, loosening his hold ever so slightly.
She shifted to see how far down the streets were. Cars resembling ants marched in uniform rows, and the sky seemed close enough to touch as she lifted her face to the warm, yielding rain.
Licking the drops off her lips, she linked her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. Everything she’d ever needed burned in those fiery green depths. “I always love playing with you.” Smiling, she leaned back, degree by degree. “Do your worst.”
Rain slicked down over them as Shawn rocked against her, wedging his cock between her spread legs. She gasped at the sensation of his hot, hard flesh rubbing against hers and, eager for more, sucked his tongue deep into her mouth.
Before she’d had her fill, he made a feral sound in his throat and swept his lips down her neck and over her breasts, now damp with drizzle. She laced her fingers in his hair as his tongue laved one hard peak. Her head fell back, back arching as his teeth scraped her nipple. The swollen head of his cock brushed her clit, then lower, the tip teasing her slick pussy.
So close, so close…
She angled toward him, drawing her legs up to take his cock all the way inside her. Letting out a low grunt, he hesitated only seconds before sliding home.
Their gazes locked and held, his flesh stretching hers gloriously. She loved it when he filled her like this, banishing anything but him. When they were joined, he wasn’t just her best friend. He was the man she longed for more than she needed to breathe.
The man she was falling for, hard. And there wasn’t a soft landing place in sight.

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