Before Internet, there were men like these. Yum. :)

Well, after too, but just saying...

I do love the Internet. I need to fix my laptop, so I went to Best Buy. They can't do it because they didn't have Lenovo when I purchased mine. Fine. I go to the Internet, look at service locations. Call one. They don't have computers anymore. Call another. They can look at it but can't guarantee anything.

I drive out there and found out they're not there. They've moved. A couple of years ago. Phone number's still the same. Both companies were still listed as servicing Lenovo. So what is the problem?

What goes up on the Internet, stays up on the Internet, forever, and ever, and ever.

So some is good stuff, important stuff, great for being a real help. Some is plain old outdated garbage. Long story short? Call the company and find out: Do they do what they say they do? And are they still located where they say the are located?

To make a long story short, before the Internet, I would have had to call the company on the paperwork I  have for the product. Now, I can use the Internet. If it's not too outdated, that is!

And no, I did not make it in time to go to the right place! It was an hour in the opposite direction and would have been closed by the time I arrived there. I have to say it was an interesting drive. Saw tons of horse farms, cattle ranches, and even a llama lying in the dirt looking sleepy. Now, it'll be probably two weeks before I can get the laptop to the right place.

And no laptop for all that time. It's amazing how we rely on our gadgets to keep us going!

Have a super day! Off to work for me...

Terry
"Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy IS reality!"
www.terryspear.com

I've been thinking lately. Oh, I know that's kind of unusual for me because usually I'm daydreaming, lost in a story somewhere. However, I've been downright pondering. You see, I keep getting story ideas that...well, they...I mean my thoughts are sort of...the stories don't have...

*whispering* S-E-X

That's right. I'm thinking of going rogue, and, at the point when the heroine and hero are about to give into their attraction, close the bedroom door. No one will know anything has happened, possibly not even the main characters, until she wakes up in his arms the next day.

Don't get me wrong. I love my erotica and will continue to write it, but like most of my heroines, I'd like to try something new and a little dangerous (come on, no sex for an erotica writer? Now THAT'S dangerous!). I've read romance and erotica at all heat levels, and I've definitely written it at the flaming level, but now I'm wondering what kind of a challenge it would be to keep the sex out of the story and maintain the same intensity.

So what do you think? Can this old erotica dog learn a new trick? What kind of romance or erotica do you really, really like? Is there room for one more romance where the sex happens behind closed doors, ala the Charlie Rich song? Think about while enjoying the video below and then please do share. Happy listening!

So I've been on a reading hiatus for a few months and feel so out of the loop. My daughter stepped on my purse back in October and broke my Kindle. I didn't believe I would be able to get it replaced since it was a Christmas gift from last year. After my SIL urged me to at least call and ask, I finally did and was sent a new one. Man, I was super excited.

The new one got here, downloaded a couple of books and then it broke. Defective. Seriously?

After working with the Amazon troubleshooter team to figure out why it kept rebooting, and rebooting and rebooting and then completely froze, they finally admitted defeat as well and sent me a new one.

Now I have one that seems to be tip-top (knock on wood) and I'm ready to download some books.

Currently, I'm reading Angela Campbell's Cry Wolf and I'm loving it. Such an awesome concept. Tabloid journalist goes to a small town in search of the werewolf the towns folks claims to have seen. Excellent. Lots of smiles and laughs with this one. Now to just get the time to finish it!

So tell me what have you read recently that you highly recommend?

Esme
www.esmereldabishop.com

A knock sounded at the door, then it opened and a tall man stuck his head in. He grinned.
“Lachlan, come on in, then.” Alasdair motioned the kilted man forward. “M’lady, I would like for you to meet my brother, Lachlan.”
The man’s tawny, golden-brown hair was long as a pagan’s and hung halfway down his chest. His amber-brown eyes, several shades lighter than Alasdair’s, held her own in a startling, direct manner. Waves of magnetism emanated from Lachlan. She suspected no lass he set his sights on would retain her virtue for long.
“Mistress Carswell is the MacIrwin fairy I told you about who saved my life.”
Both men grinned at her—a devastating picture, to be sure, with their virile good looks.
Gwyneth’s face heated with the ridiculous comment. Fairy, indeed.
She stood and curtsied. “’Tis a pleasure, sir.”
“I assure you, m’lady, the pleasure is all mine.” He bowed. Coming forward, he grasped her hand and pulled her upright. “Alasdair, I believe your words were ‘bonny MacIrwin fairy,’ and I must agree with you. Ne’er have I seen such lovely blue eyes.” Lachlan kissed her fingers.
Good heavens! What silver-tongued charmers these MacGraths were. Heat rushed over her.
Alasdair cleared his throat, and Lachlan released her.
Gwyneth’s gaze locked with Alasdair’s, which harbored a glare, and his brother stepped away to stand at the mantel. Something unspoken had passed between the two men. And something possessive in the way Alasdair watched her now held her captive.
Oh dear.Her knees going slightly weak, she reclaimed her seat.
“I’m forever in your gratitude for saving the life of my beloved brother,” Lachlan said over his shoulder. She glimpsed a hint of a smile and wondered the reason for it, though she thought she knew. My Fierce Highlander copyright 2011 Vonda Sinclair

This scene shows his character in a nutshell. Lachlan's smile at the end of this excerpt tells us he's gearing up to give his brother some needling over his possessiveness of Gwyneth. Very noticeable and telling since he hasn't been possessive over a woman in over two years. Lachlan appears here and there throughout the story. It seems he always has good luck in many areas of his life, especially with the women. But is there such a thing as too much good luck?

Once it's time for Lachlan to show up in his own story, My Wild Highlander, what better way than we catch him at one of his favorite pastimes? Too bad the heroine, Angelique, is there too. Oops! :)

London, England, 1618 

"Lady Angelique! Come back, sweeting!" ancient Lord Chatsworth called.
Sacrebleu! Angelique Drummagan rushed down the corridor, eased open a door and slipped inside a dark drawing room, one of many within the maze of Whitehall Palace. She prayed Chatsworth would pass by. He fancied himself her suitor and did naught but drool on her hand every time he was near.
Heavy breathing and moans sounded from across the room. She turned and froze, her eyes searching the near darkness. Who was here? Only the shifting moonlight glinting off the Thames provided any illumination, revealing chair backs and settees.
A high-pitched giggle pierced the air from several yards away, in the vicinity of a sitting area near the cold hearth.
"Shh."A long moment of silence stretched out, broken by sounds of kissing.
"King James wishes her brought before him forthwith," a muffled male voice said outside the closed door.
"She vanished in this passage," Chatsworth said.
A pox upon the old lecher! And the king, too. Angelique crept across the Turkish carpet and slid behind the brocade window drapery.
"Ooh, I'm impressed with your swordplay skills, my laird." Lady Eleanor's voice, breathy and excited, shattered the quiet of the room. She was the one moaning and giggling?
The harlot."I'm not a laird, but I do thank you for the compliment."
A Highlander? Angelique would recognize that tongue-rolling speech anywhere.
She had never known Eleanor, countess of Wexbury, to dally with anyone below a viscount. What was she doing with a barbarian? That's what her mother—God rest her soul—would've called him, or any Scot. And Maman should know; she'd been married to one.
Eleanor cried out with carnal pleasure. Angelique's face burned hot. She couldn't comprehend how a woman found pleasure in the act. Never again would she entrust her body and heart to any man. Since men were naught but faithless pigs, she knew she only had duty before her, not happiness. Not love. That had been a foolish child's dream.
Eleanor gasped for breath and the Scot made a growling noise. The height of pleasure, some said. Surely the French term le petit mort—the little death—was more accurate. Nausea gripped Angelique even as shocking excitement quickened her heart beat. A dark, hidden part of her wondered… No, never again. I cannot marry and be subjected to a man's lust. She pressed trembling fingers against her throat and found it damp with perspiration.
The door opened and lamplight reflected off the white walls.
"Lady Angelique?" Dryden's nasal voice echoed through the room. He was the most vexing of the king's courtiers.
The two lovers became silent.
"I know you're in here. I heard a noise."
From her position behind the draperies, she noticed the light moving across the floor.
A thump sounded, then rustling.
"Sir Lachlan? What in Hades are you…?"
"I was but…resting," the Scot said.
"Have you seen Lady Angelique?"
"Nay."
"Dryden, the lamp, if you please," Chatsworth said.
"What is it?"
In the silence, the light shifted again, growing brighter as it moved in her direction.
Mon Dieu, do not let them find me, s'il vous plaît. Angelique's pulse roared in her ears. She detested Chatsworth, and now, to be discovered lurking about in a dark room while a Scot coupled with a lady harlot would be exceedingly mortifying. They might even accuse her of spying on them.
Dryden yanked the drapery aside.
"Parbleu!" Angelique blurted and pressed a hand to her mouth.
Dryden sent her a vile grin. In the background, Chatsworth scowled, then shot a murderous glance at the man they'd called Sir Lachlan, who stood in a darkened corner.
Where had Eleanor crawled away to? Angelique couldn't see her beneath the carved furniture in the dimness.
"You and Sir Lachlan?" Dryden snickered. "His Majesty will likely find this interesting."
"Non! I was not—Lady Eleanor was—where did she go?" Embarrassment flamed over her. Now, they thought she'd been with the Scot? Never."No need to lie, mademoiselle. Come. The king wishes to see you." He ushered her toward the door. "You, too, Sir Lachlan."
"Me?"
"Indeed." Dryden waved him forward.
The Highlander stepped into the light. The giant was more than a foot taller than she, broad shouldered and wearing a belted plaid, leaving the bottom portion of his muscular legs bare. She'd seen few of these barbaric articles of clothing since she was nine years old and her mother had taken her from Scotland.
His face was ruggedly masculine with a square jaw and hard chin, enticing to a woman's baser instincts, but not refined. This was the same man she'd seen leaving Lady Catherine's bedchamber the night before. Then, he'd been wearing trews. Dallying with two women at court? Or perhaps more? Lecher.Amusement sparkled in his eyes before he bowed. "M'lady."
"Sir." She curtsied.
The Scot's darkened eyes fixed upon her in a too-knowing way. To cover the heat rushing over her face, she strode from the room.
Feeling like a prisoner headed for the block, Angelique walked beside the Highlander through several rooms and dark-paneled corridors, taking two steps for his every one. Dryden and Chatsworth followed. She would not be surprised to feel the prick of a sword at her back. Glancing around, she found the men empty-handed.
They passed through four doors, guarded by numerous courtiers and royal servants before reaching the antechamber with its gleaming ebony furniture upholstered in the finest red velvets. Numerous candles lit the room and glimmered off the gold leaf.
What did the king want? He'd sent for her two days before at Hampton Court Palace, though he hadn't been ready to meet with her until now. She disliked leaving the comfort of the queen's household, but King James was her guardian and she must do as he bid. Chatsworth and Dryden had been searching for her before they found her in the room with this Highlander, so the summons could have naught to do with him. Why had they asked him to accompany them?
They neared the king's private rooms and an usher opened the carved door. "Lady Angelique Drummagan and Sir Lachlan MacGrath," he announced.
The four entered. The men bowed, and she curtsied deeply before the king.
The scrawny, aging monarch, wearing overblown clothing in colorful silks, occupied an ornate chair on an elevated platform. Buckingham, his favorite courtier, a regally handsome dark-haired man in his early twenties, stood next to him, along with several other members of the aristocracy.
"You have found her." King James turned his rheumy, unsteady gaze toward the tall man beside her. "And Sir Lachlan, I'm so glad you have joined us once again."
"Your Majesty, 'tis a supreme honor." Lachlan bowed.
Dryden whispered something to another courtier, who whispered to Buckingham. And he proceeded to murmur into the king's ear.
The frail monarch's eyes widened. "The two of you have…met?"
Angelique's face heated. "Non. Not in truth."
The king frowned at his courtiers but his expression lightened when he looked at Lachlan. "It matters not. This is my ward, Lady Angelique Drummagan, the new countess of Draughon in her own right." He motioned toward her. "My dear, meet Sir Lachlan MacGrath, a hero to whom we owe much."
The cursed MacGrath took her hand and kissed it. "'Tis my great pleasure to make your acquaintance, m'lady." His rich baritone and the Scottish burr appealed more than it should have.
She stiffened.
In the bright candlelight, she saw he was a most visually interesting man. His tawny hair was too long by far and not of the current style. His eyes gleamed like a tiger's eye stone. It was not the color that arrested her, but the expression—assessing and sensual. She had come upon many a rogue like him in France, and barely escaped marrying one.
She jerked her hand away but remembered her manners just in time and curtsied. Not too deeply, because he didn't deserve even that. "An honor, Sir Lachlan."
A tiny grin lifted one corner of his full lips. Though she already loathed him because he was a Highlander and a debaucher, something about him defied her to look away.
"Through his cunning and sharp wits, Sir Lachlan has saved the life of our dear marquess of Buckingham and broken up the den of conspirators," King James said. "We knighted Sir Lachlan a fortnight ago but we believe he deserves an even greater reward. Do we not, Steenie?"
Buckingham nodded.
"He will also receive a title." King James gave her a toothless grin. "Earl of Draughon."
What? Her late father's title?
The shock and silence threatened to render her senseless on the floor. What had the king meant?
"Yes, my dear, I have finally found you the perfect husband. He is Scottish, as you are. He is pleasing to look upon and…"
"Pray pardon…Majesty." Fearing she would faint, she quickly curtsied and fled the stateroom as if Lucifer himself chased her. She would die before she'd marry a Highlander whose favorite pastime was lifting skirts.
***
Lachlan watched the lovely red-haired lass dash from the room. What the devil had just happened? Had the king said something about a husband? And the earl of something? He shouldn't have drunk so much sack earlier.
He shook his head, attempting to clear it. Facing the king, Lachlan could hardly believe he stood once again in His Majesty's opulent private chambers—Lachlan, a Highlander and a second son with no title, nothing but a canny wit and a sword. During the past several weeks, while he'd been at court, enjoying every moment of the drinking, feasting, hunting and other, more carnal, pursuits, he had not been caught in such a compromising situation. And now His Majesty wished to leg-shackle him to a prickly lass? It made no sense. Clearly, Lachlan had overstayed his welcome and should've already departed for his clan's Kintalon Castle in the Highlands.
"Well, then," King James said. "Has there ever been a bride unafraid of the holy state of matrimony?" He grinned. "A toast!" He motioned to his courtiers and servants, who scrambled about for drinks.
Future bride? Lachlan shook his head. Nay, he could never marry. He loved women too much to settle with only one.
"Your Majesty, pray pardon… what are you saying? You wish me to marry Lady Angelique?"
"Yes, yes. I understand you two already know each other, in a sense." James winked.
"Upon my honor, I did not touch her. She happened upon me in the room where I was napping." Had she already been in there when he and Eleanor had arrived, or had she slipped in later? And who had she been hiding from?
"Very well." The king glared at Dryden. "He did not touch her."
Lachlan accepted a crystal glass of the king's prized Greek wine.
Marriage? God's teeth! 'Twill be a disaster."So, what say you, lad?"
Damnation, he should say naught. He should keep his tongue trapped firmly betwixt his teeth, but given the dozens of aristocratic gazes burning into him, including the king's, he could not play a mute this late in the day. Marriage? He could not entirely grasp the concept, except that it might be torture. But he could not offend the king by refusing. Besides, he had mentioned an earldom, had he not?
"I…I don't rightly ken what to say, Your Majesty, except I thank you. I'm overcome by your generosity." Lachlan bowed. Saints! What did I utter? He was afraid he'd just agreed to get married.

 My Wild Highlander copyright 2011 Vonda Sinclair

When you're reading a book, do you love it when secondary characters get their own spin-off stories? What about those of you who are writers? Has a secondary character sprang to life on the page and tried to take over?

Thanks for checking out my blog post and excerpts!!
Vonda

My Wild Highlander is available at
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My Mailing List.
My website.

Snow White And Her Seven Lovers…

Did that surprising twist on the classic fairy tale title get your attention? Hope so, LOL!

I’m Jenna Ives and I write contemporary erotic romance and BDSM novellas. (I’m published with Fierce Romance’s own Natasha Moore in the Binding Ties anthology from Samhain, with my sorority-inspired story, The Initiation Of Isabella.) I love novellas, because with so much technology at hand these days (texting, tweeting, e-readers, smart phones, video game players, etc) it seems everyone is developing a shorter attention span. And novellas are the perfect way to satisfy a romance reader’s appetite for sexy stories without having to make a long-term time commitment!

Since novellas are by definition short, I’ll share my secret for writing erotic novellas with you: as the story opens, I immediately put my characters into a situation where they either have to have sex for a particular reason (there are many fun ways to do this – try coming up with some creative situations yourself!) or else create an event where your characters are forced to stay together for a certain plot reason. Voila! Instant tension! And in an erotic romance, that means the sexual sparks fly!

My new novella, Snow White And Her Seven Lovers, was inspired by both Kristen Stewart’s upcoming movie “Snow White And The Huntsman” as well as Julia Roberts’ spring release of “Mirror, Mirror.” It looks like 2012 is definitely the year of Snow White!

Here’s the blurb for my erotic version of this classic fairy tale, which I’ve written in first-person from our heroine’s point of view:

What’s a girl to do when she wakes up poisoned in the ER and finds that she’s lost her memory, her family, and very nearly her life?

That was me. Three months ago. With no identity, no money, and nowhere to go on the day I was discharged from the hospital, I gratefully accepted my gorgeous ER doctor’s offer to move in with him and his equally gorgeous six friends – the ones who’d found me unconscious in an apple orchard. My plan was to stay only until my memory returned, and I could figure out who I was and if someone really had tried to kill me.

Together with Doc, these were an amazingly diverse bunch of guys, but there was something about each of them that attracted me powerfully enough to want to explore it. The policeman with his clever handcuffs. The cunningly linguistic librarian. The disciplinarian teacher. The virgin computer whiz who loved to play sex games. The engineer who created shotgun orgasms. The wildly imaginative baker.

Becoming intimate with these seven men completed me in ways I suspected discovering my name never would. That is, until the fateful day a man showed up claiming to be my fiancé...

Oooh… this story has conflict and lots of steamy love scenes! But by far, my most favorite part of writing this story was coming up with jobs that realistically lent themselves to the characters – Doc is the obvious one (he’s the ER doctor who saves our heroine’s life) but if you read this story, I’d love to hear from you about my choices for the six friends’ occupations :) Grumpy? Dopey? Sleepy? Sneezy? Happy? Bashful? Are the real-life jobs I’ve chosen for these characters believable?

Snow White And Her Seven Lovers is available through amazon.com, bn.com, Smashwords.com, or at my website, www.jennaives.com.

So…. which classic fairy tale is your favorite?? And how would you spice it up a little?

I'm filling in today because I missed last week, and I was going to continue my soapboxing from yesterday. However, I received some unhappy news recently that a dear family member suddenly passed away, and I lost my steam somewhere between ranting about bra straps showing and jeans that don't fit the human body.

We writers thrive on using life experiences in our writing, both the sad and happy, and that's what I'm doing today. I don't want to leave you with a bummer post on a Friday, and I won't. Any loss has the potential to bring back memories of loved ones and past events, and this loss is no different. We were close when we were younger, and now I find myself remembering the good times we shared and enjoying a quick trip through the past. Too long gone perhaps, but never far away.

So to celebrate life this weekend, please take a moment to remember someone or something wonderful. If you'd like to share a special memory in the comments section, please feel free to do so. Most importantly, enjoy your trip down Memory Lane!

Welcome to the new year! I didn't think it would happen this fast, but I've got my first "soapbox" piece ready to go, thanks to an article I read on Yahoo! via ABC News the other day about a high school student's racy senior photo. Ready for some proselytizing? I promise it relates to writing and reading...sort of. :)

This story caught my attention because as a romance/erotica writer, I'm responsible for creating female characters my readers can relate to and connect with, such as Heidi in You're All I Want for Christmas and Emerson from The Dragon's Queen. I've also written characters that are so totally polarizing that I get reviews from people who hated them or loved them with few in between, such as Professor Rumani Gladstone in Ride 'Em, Girlfriend!. Part of creating those characters is understanding how sexy they are, what being sexy means to them, and how they express their sexy side. So now I'm an expert on the subject.

HA HA HA HA. I'm totally kidding here. However, I do have some opinions about what sexy means, and the more I see young women trying for the effect--and failing--the more I cringe. There are several sides to sexy, but today, in light of the article being about clothing, I will focus on fashion.

First, let me throw out something here. I've read that women really dress to impress other women (not men!), not to attract them, but to let them know who's in charge and in the alpha female position. I'm beginning to believe this because over and over again I see surveys where men are asked what they think makes a woman look sexy. Typically, if she can rock a fitted pair of jeans with boots and a white T-shirt, she's considered sexy. So why all the skin-bearing fashions and magic bras? Perhaps it is, indeed, to intimidate other women. Perhaps some women just like the feeling of their bazongas hoisted as far from the evil pull of gravity that man-made contraptions will allow.

But I digress.

I think many young women believe that to be attractive they must dress provocatively because that's what men consider pretty and feminine. From my interactions with men, however, I've learned that pretty and feminine usually do not derive from sexy couture, but pretty and feminine couture. Women who dress sexy usually only get one response--leering. In other words, if you dress sexy, you pretty much come across as sexy only, but if you dress in a pretty and feminine way, you'll come across as pretty and feminine and sexy as well. The whole package. If you're hoping to find a partner interested in a relationship and not a fling, the whole package is what you want to project.

Now, if you just want people to see your "hot" side, then dressing that way is for you. Just know that when you dress this way, the kinds of relationships people will want to have with you will focus on sex. In contrast, when you dress pretty and feminine, the relationships people will want to have with you will be focused more on you as a woman than on just sexual desire, although that would be part of it as well.

I realize I sound like an old fogey here, but when I hear girls complain that guys only want them for one thing and they can't understand why, it's sort of sad, especially when I see some of the clothing they wear. If you want a relationship, dress like it. If you're dressing in skimpy outfits because you want men to think you're pretty, then you're missing the mark. Pretty is pretty and it can be sexy, but sexy is just sexy and will net you pretty much a relationship based on the oldest indoor sport known to mankind.

I don't know the intentions of anyone in the article, but I do know that in this day and age there seems to be a disconnect between the freedom to express ourselves in fashion and understanding the messages we send when we do so. No young woman wants to send a message she doesn't mean, and every girl wants to be pretty, but that can be achieved with a beautiful smile, a positive attitude, and a sense of humor (and apparently great-fitting jeans, boots and a white T-shirt). :)

Happy Reading!

No, not that hot button. LOL. What topic raises your hackles?

Many, many moons ago I used to be a hairdresser. One of the first things I learned in hair school is there are two topics you never discuss with a client: politics and religion. There is a reason for this rule. These are two very sensitive subjects that can bring very passionate, very different reactions out of each person.

Now, before anyone starts gasping behind their hand and whispering that Esme has blogged about a no-no topic, let me be clear that that is not my intention. In this day and age, those are not the only topics that get a person’s defensive attitude revving. There is a wide spectrum of sensitive issues out there that if not handled in the way the reader believes, it’s throw the book against the wall time. I’m simply curious as to what is your topic?

Mine is how some heroines with weight issues are portrayed. I get self-image issues, trust me on that, and I honestly love a book that digs deep into the struggle of self-image. However, once in awhile, I come across a book that really pisses me off. Mostly because the woman’s issues make her completely inadequate in everything she does in her life. I can’t grasp that. I have self-image issues. Horrible ones actually. But that doesn’t mean I’m not confident in every other aspect of my life. Where does it say that just because you don’t like your belly or are carrying around extra weight that you hate, that you have to fail in everything else you do? That you can’t be a strong woman in your career? You can’t refuse to beaten down and fight for what you believe in? It’s a stereotype that is hard for me to swallow.

So what is yours?

Esme

www.esmereldabishop.com