Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Meet Lawrence “Law” Justice: Can you keep his secret?

When Melissa from WereVampsRomance came around asking questions, Lawrence from “The Vampire, The Witch & The Werewolf: A New Orleans Threesome” did his best to ignore her. But with her kind words about how his story kept her up to the “wee-hours of the morning” and “fogged up her reading glasses,” and her promises not to reveal his true nature to those who don’t “understand” the world of The Others, she won him over.

For Lawrence’s first-ever interview, visit: WereVampsRomance

Can you keep a secret?

Ravenous Nights

Threesomes, burlesque, elder desire, fetish and sex under the bleachers aren't exactly topics for casual conversation, but they have a home at the new reading series, Ravenous Nights, in New York City. Started in February by editorial director Lori Perkins and hosted by publisher Ravenous Romance, the series celebrates – and elevates – the erotic word by spotlighting authors of erotica and erotic romance.

On the first Friday of every month, Ravenous Nights welcomes authors and the listening public to the Happy Ending Lounge, a one-time massage parlor in the lower east side and now a bar and literary hot spot to gather and enjoy several fictional offerings. The event has already featured such authors as Logan Belle, Caridad Pinero, Laura Antoniou, D.L. King, Abigail Ekue, Cecilia Tan, Michelle Herrera Mulligan, and Mo Beasley, among many others.

As often as possible, Lori brings a mix performers and performances to a Ravenous Nights event. In February, Mo Beasley performed an energetic ode to his favorite fetish, Black Panties, via spoken word, spirited music and hot choreography. And in May, burlesque performer, Jo Weldon, demonstrated the basics of getting one's tassels twirling!

Door prizes are another essential at a Ravenous Nights evening. Lori raffles off as many free books as possible during the event and sometimes the crowd sounds more like they’re at the races than at a reading! But, hey, can you think of a better way to celebrate one's love for the book? 

This month’s Ravenous Nights will feature authors Isabo Kelly, Rob Byrnes and Hope Tarr:
June 3
8 p.m. to 10 p.m.
Happy Ending Lounge
302 Broome Street
New York, NY

The event is free and dress is street casual.

Ravenous Night’s website is located at http://ravenous.journurl.com

By Debra Hyde

Finishing Touches …

Two more days before my next manuscript is due. It’s a sizzling f/f sequel in the Sex University universe. As I’ve been pouring through edits over the last week, I’ve come to the conclusion that I needed some additional transitions between those steamy scenes. Over the last four months, obviously one thing remained forefront. Yeah, that’s right: bedroom scenes.  

As a “pantster,” a writer who tends to write by the seat-of-the-pants, I tend to focus on material that feels right at the time. And this story obviously feels right.

Readers will meet up with some old favorites, such as Officer Margaret “Marge,” who undergoes a dynamic transformation into a more self-confident “Maggie.” And then there’s Savannah, who is none other than Ms. Lucy’s niece. Does the apple fall far from that family tree?

Stay tuned for more release information.

Now, back to writing.

Monday, May 30, 2011

Tour de Troops

Welcome, and thanks for stopping by. On the final day of the tour, your virtual feet must be tired from all the hopping!

I'm thrilled to be taking part in the Tour de Troops. Married to a now-retired Air Force man and as the daughter of a long-term Army serviceman, I've grown up with that ingrained honor and respect for those who serve and protect our country and its ideals. In fact, when I think about it, my family crosses over all military lines: from Air Force to Army to the Marines, the Merchant Marines and the Navy. 

If you're following the holiday weekend tour, the stop before mine is Nicole Galland and the next stop is Urban Fantasy writers Rachelle Reese and John E. MillerBut first, hang with me and get your free ebook "The Vampire, The Witch & The Werewolf: A New Orleans Threesome." 

As an involved bystander, I want to thank all that have sacrificed to serve our country. When I think of my own personal experiences, there are a few things I’d like to share.

Preserving Memories

A few years ago, my Papa – grandfather – passed away. He served in the Marines during the Korean War. Many people discuss the importance of writing names on the backs of photos to identify those pictured. Think about the act as preserving history. Not only are the people important, but also the locations that they were taken.

Likewise, when dealing with older black and white images, or even color photographs, consider scanning in the pictures – and backing them up – so there’s a crisp digital image to preserve.

Along the same lines, save those letters. It’s amazing for me to read the thoughts of my great-grandfather, and grandfather, as they spent countless months away from home. Many people correspond via email. These missives also can be stored electronically or printed in the book. Don’t think about preserving the memories simply for oneself, but also for future generations.


As a writing teacher, I’ve worked with many active duty and veterans in college. While it may be difficult, writing about one’s experiences also can be quite helpful. As a supportive friend, family member or even a teacher, it’s important to let the individual express himself or herself without critiquing the work. Once more time and distance comes between the work and the individual, and they request feedback, then that’s the time to offer suggestions. 

While I'm not an "indie" author, I am sponsoring a free ebook for each person who leaves a comment, and one for a troop. Plus you'll be entered into a drawing for a Kindle, sponsored by the writers taking place in the tour and the Indie Book Collective. (Make sure to leave your email address so we can contact you!) So in order to receive an ebook, tell me: What's your favorite American food?

Next stop: Rachelle Reese and John E. Miller
Thank you for stopping by, and once again thank you to all of our troops. Remember your next stop will be: Rachelle Reese and John E. Miller.

For a review of my latest book "The Vampire, The Witch & The Werewolf: A New Orleans Threesome," check out Joyfully ReviewedIf you enjoy “The Vampire, The Witch & The Werewolf: A New Orleans Threesome,” stay tuned for “Chains of Silver,” coming Fall 2011.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Sneak Peek: KHYBER RUN

We're starting out the long Memorial Day weekend, with a visit with Amber Green, who's generously sharing an excerpt from her hot new release.


Zarak shed that Warrior Code crap long ago. Oscar personifies it. Hunting a murderer in a war-scarred land, two men fight for justice, honor, and who gets top.

Chapter 1:

I woke muddled, thinking the ship's engines sounded wrong. Red light glared on my eyelids. Breathing meant gagging on the seagull-shit taste of a hangover. And that sound was not my ship's engines. More like a sardine can's engines or...a plane?

Opening my eyes took effort. A plane. From the rear of the fuselage, I faced up an aisle between rows of knees hugging sea bags. Not sea bags: MOLLE-packs. Red lights in strips overhead barely illuminated a couple hundred hunched forms in desert camo, a row of males in body armor along each bulkhead, facing inward, and two rows of females jammed into back-to-back seats in the center. Male or female, each of them clutched one of those carbines the sponges called an assault rifle.

Why am I in a plane packed with camo-assed bullet-sponges?

The plane's deck angled down sharply. Screams rang in my ears, going dull. My ears cleared, painfully, and the shrieks sharpened.

Crashing. That's what we're doing.

The deck roller-coastered up, then yawed faster than physics should allow. Whiplash. I saw stars. The stench of vomit wrung my empty guts.

A dive and another yaw brought more screams ringing off the bulkhead, prayer in Spanish close by, retching farther away.

How did I stay in my seat, with gravity halving and doubling and snatching me starboard to port? When the plane steadied long enough to let me look down, I saw bands of dull silver duct tape strapping my thighs to my seat, and another red-streaked silver band over my belt.

Something hung on my lower face. I had some kind of mask. No. Somebody had duct-taped a puke bag to my face. It sagged obscenely against my chin, like a giant used condom.

Pulling it off hurt. The stench blasted from it.

Where do I put this? I looked around, blinking, trying to make sense. The screamers in the middle seats were mostly army. The hundred or so men squatting in the seats lining the bulkhead were marines. Some laughed at the women. Others hunkered down, as if waiting for shrapnel to find them. A few threw curious glances at me, the only squid in sight.

A cluster of pops rapped at the bulkhead, like popcorn in my mother's big pot. One of the sponges grinned at me. "Small arms fire. Welcome to Bagram."

Bagram? A map of the giant air base flashed in my eyes, then a dim memory of riding my father's shoulder, hiding my face in his turban while a trio of Shuravi -- Soviets -- stomped an ominously silent laborer. Couldn't be.

"He means hold on," added another sponge.

I dropped the puke bag to grab my seat. The plane tilted, again nose-diving but this time braking hard. Instead of falling to the deck, the bag shot forward, splatting against a female's ear.

"I'm hit! Aaah!"

"God! Brains! Oh, God!"


The plane swerved and jinked, each jerk redoubling the shrieks. The smell of fear, sharp and sour, fought with the smell of vomit.

One of the marines chuckled, despite the sweat beading on his face, and pitched his voice low enough to hear under the shrieks. "You know you're going to have to police that up, Squidward."

"No-go, sir. The doc's our volunteer."

Volunteer? WTF? I twisted to see who'd called me a volunteer, but his rifle caught my attention first. A bolt-action rifle. A sniper's weapon.

Behind the rifle, teeth flashed in a grin. He didn't seem to exist, except as a rifle, a hint of helmet, and a grin. Then the grin vanished.

The deck flipped overhead. The unsecured marines bounced, sending bellows among the screams. I hung from my seat, still taped in place.

The deck flipped again, then slammed up at us. A marine fell across my lap. I caught his weapon before it could bean him. The cool metal slapped into my hand, rousing memories like an old lover's name.

Find a different (and much longer) excerpt here: http://www.loose-id.com/Khyber-Run.aspx

For more with Amber, visit www.shapeshiftersinlust.com tonight!

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Memorial Weekend Blog Tour

Have you heard of the Blog Tour de Troops? If not, then put it on your "to-do" list for the holiday weekend. Not only can you enter to win a Kindle, another one also will be sent to a troop!

For more information on participating authors and sponsor reviewers, visit the official website Tour de Troops.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Blog: Breaking Boundaries

Dropping into the Book Boost Blog to chat about “5 Ways to Catapult Your Writing to a Different Level.” Want to break from what you traditionally write, or need a bit more inspiration? If you have time, stop by and take a look … and add your own tips!

Friday, May 13, 2011

Guest Blog: "A Fool for You"

Happy Friday!

Today, I’d like to welcome Cat Grant with her tremendously m/m release, A Fool for You. Want some heat to see you through the weekend? Read on!

Sexy Chase Aubrey plays blues guitar like nobody's business. One look at him performing at a New York nightclub, and twenty-year-old keyboard player Brian Barclay's smitten.

However, Brian remains true to his boyfriend Kit-until Kit cheats on him and steals all the songs they’ve written together. With nowhere else to go, Brian turns to his estranged father, Trevor, and Trevor’s partner, Cameron. But even Cameron can’t smooth over the tension between father and son.

Brian’s in need of a friend, and Chase fills the role nicely-and quickly heats up the sheets with him as well. The passion between them is mind-blowing, until Brian discovers Chase’s secret past. A past he’s run from for years. And when the past threatens the present, Brian can’t help wondering if the love of his life has played him for a fool.


Cat Grant lives by the sea in beautiful Monterey, California, with a persnickety feline and way too many books and DVDs. When she's not writing, she enjoys watching the Winchester boys and burning her own dinner. :)

To catch up with Cat, you can visit with her at:

A Fool For You Excerpt

They pulled around the back of the apartment building and parked in the lot. Chase started to climb out of the car, but Brian just sat there, thumb flicking the door latch. “Um…maybe we should rethink this.”

Chase stared at him. “We drove all the way over here, and now you don’t want to get your stuff?”

“Sure I do. I just don’t want to end up in jail again.”

“Look, we’ll try your key. If it works, fine. If it doesn’t, we walk away. I’m sure as hell not gonna break in. Okay?”

“Okay.” Deep breath, then Brian got out and followed Chase to the building’s front door. Luckily, the foyer was deserted, with nobody hanging around the candy and soda machines or picking up their mail. First time Brian had ever been grateful the management was too damn cheap to hire a doorman.
The elevators were working—for once—but they took the stairs instead, three flights up, then crept down the hallway as quietly as possible. Brian’s fingers had gone ice-cold, so Chase took the key from him and stuck it in the lock. The tumblers clicked as he twisted the key with one hand and the knob with the other. The door swung open.

They waited until they were both safely inside before flicking on the lights. “Jesus,” Chase muttered. “Welcome to slob central.”

Brian’s eyes practically popped out of his head. Looked as if a tornado had torn through the place. Dirty plates, beer bottles, soda cans and a couple of empty pizza boxes littered the kitchen table and counter. Clothes were scattered all over the sofa, floor and bed. A whiff of body odor wafted up from the nearest rumpled pile, making his eyes water. If any of his things had gotten mixed up in there, too bad. No way was he pawing through that mess.

His keyboards leaned against the far wall, still in their cases. A quick look inside told Brian they were exactly as he’d left them. Thank God. “They’re fine,” he said as Chase came over to give him a hand. “If you find an acoustic guitar, it’s mine too.”

“I’ll look for it. Why don’t you gather up your clothes while I start carrying your instruments down to the car? It’s gonna take a couple trips.”

Brian nodded and trudged over to the closet, relieved to see his jeans, t-shirts and leather jacket still hanging there. He grabbed his old army surplus duffle bag off the top shelf and started throwing all his stuff in it, including his extra pair of sneakers and black patent Docs. He’d finished packing up by the time Chase returned from his first run down to the car. While Chase carried his piano, Brian slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and grabbed his guitar case. Then they headed out.

Their walk back down the hallway felt like some weird, surreal dream. Any second Brian expected one of the other apartment doors to fly open and someone to start screaming, “Stop! Thief!”. But nothing happened. They took the elevator down this time, and even then it was deadly quiet, except for the distant whirr and clunk of the cable. He was half convinced they’d find themselves face-to-face with Kit and Stewart when the door opened, but they weren’t there. The coast really was clear.

They stowed everything securely in the SUV’s trunk, then climbed into the front seat. Brian let out the world’s most relieved sigh. “I can’t believe we just did that. Or that it was so easy.”

“After the shitty last couple of days you’ve had, you deserve easy.” Chase laughed. “In a manner of speaking.”

Brian laughed too, until he caught a glimpse of something familiar out of the corner of his eye, and immediately froze. A battered old white van with blacked-out windows. “Shit! That looks like Kit’s car!” It passed by close enough for the driver to see them. Brian slumped in his seat, yanking up the hood of his jacket. “C’mon, let’s get the hell out of here.”

“I can’t back out, they’re blocking me.”

Oh God. Oh Jesus. He should’ve known better than to let Chase talk him into this. “I’m dead. I’m fucking dead. My dad’s gonna kill me, if Kit doesn’t pound my ass into dust first—”

“Just chill, okay? They’re turning around.” Chase leaned forward, trying to get a better look out of the SUV’s rear window. “Where’d he buy the van?”

Huh? “What the fuck difference does that make?”

“Just answer me. New York or Toronto?”

“Toronto. We drove it down here.”

“It’s got New York plates. It’s not him.”

For a minute Brian thought for sure he’d pissed his pants. Then, when Chase winked at him, he realized he’d just been punked. He let out a bark of relieved laughter, punching Chase hard in the shoulder. “You fucking jerk! You knew it wasn’t him from the start, didn’t you?”

“I figured it was fifty-fifty. This neighborhood’s lousy with white utility vans.” His tone sounded perfectly casual, until he had to go and smile that gorgeous, knee-melting smile that made Brian glad he was sitting down. “Sorry to make you squirm. Even if you are pretty damn cute doing it.”

He’d leaned in close enough for Brian to feel the soft, warm puff of his breath on his cheek. It tickled, and sent a blush creeping up from his throat. “Y-You think I’m cute?”

“Like you haven’t noticed.”

“But…I’m too young for you. That’s what you said, anyway.”

“My exact words were, ‘I’m way too old for you.’ But I’ve had time to reconsider. You drove out here with me tonight to reclaim a piece of your life. That took guts. Wish I’d been more like you when I was your age.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.”

“I am.” And then he hooked a finger under Brian’s chin and kissed him.

At first Brian was more stunned than anything else, but when it finally dawned that yes, Chase actually wanted him, Brian wound his fingers in his hair and held on. Chase was one hell of a fine kisser, passionate yet patient, his tongue flicking against Brian’s lips before teasing its way inside. He had a sharp, bittersweet flavor, just like the coffee they’d drunk earlier. He delved deep, then eased off, giving them both room to breathe. Offering Brian an out. When Brian refused to let go, Chase kissed him again, arms wrapping around his waist. God. A few moments of contact, and they were both rock hard.

Monday, May 9, 2011

"Some Like it Hot: Writing those Steamy Scenes"

Online Class: “Some Like it Hot: Writing the Erotic Romance”
Instructor: Louisa Bacio
Sponsored by OCC/RWA 
Let’s talk about sex.  Whether you’re writing a short story, novella or a full-length novel, an erotic thriller, paranormal or historical romance, the basics of the Erotic Romance remain the same: it’s all about plot and keeping it hot.
And, if one looks at the book offerings available from various traditional and e-book publishers: Readers like it steaming.
This workshop will cover the basics of characterization and motivation, and then delve into the heart: The sex scene(s).  When writing about the physical aspects of love, it takes more than the cliché of “putting tab A into slot B.”  The love scenes need to come organically from the work that’s being created, and the reader needs to believe in the connection.
When it comes to pacing, workshop attendees will learn how not to give it all up right away. In the second half of the class, we’ll look at how various genres handle the subject and situations.  Finally, we’ll close out with tips for publishing, the query process and potential markets.
Adult Content: Note that with the subject matter of this workshop, the language may become explicit.  Come with an open mind, and be prepared to learn.
Louisa Bacio’s erotic paranormal “The Vampire, The Witch & The Werewolf: A New Orleans Threesome” was released April 7 by Ravenous Romance.
Class runs May 16 through June 11, 2011

Member fees: $20 member, $30 non-member

Visit OCC/RWA to register and for more information. 

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Get Kraken: Contest!

"Sister" author Maureen O. Betita (we share the same agent) has lost her Kraken tentacle, and she's hosting a web hunt to find it! Grab ye gear, and join in on the search party:

A funny thing happened between my book’s journey from e-book to print book.
My Kraken tentacle disappeared. (These things happen when dealing with the real world.)

So, making the best of a sad situation, I put it to you… Where did the Kraken go?
I’m awarding prizes…

Well, what are ye still doing here? Go search on Maureen's site, and good luck!