It’s nearly time to ring in 2007. I’ve just arrived home from a writers retreat with Melissa Schroeder, Mary Beth Lee and Sheila Curlin. We had a great time plotting, staying up way too late, watching cranes stand on 1 leg (which was somewhat puzzling) and drinking a little too much. I came into the cabin at one point to hear Mel asking MBL if she had one slippery nipple or two. Hmmm. Turns out it’s a drink with butterscotch schnapps and Bailey’s. I tried one and had to confess that MBL had wonderful slippery nipples. MBL and Sheila read my top secret project and put their stamp of approval on it. Confetti all around! It was a great weekend.

Oh, and before I forget to say it, WRITE SHEILA! DAMMIT!!

Whew! Now that I’m home, I have to get down with the fact it’s New Year’s Eve. *sigh* Another year gone. Another year ahead of me. With the inevitable resolutions. *double sigh* But they are for my own good and would benefit me in so many ways, so I’m going to make them. And keep them if it kills me. I figure if I share them here, I’ll be forced to actually keep them, lest I look like a flaky idiot.

1. Lose weight. Yes, we all say this every year, but 2006 was VERY bad for me in the weight department, especially the last half. Writing DECADENT just ate all my time and energy for months. I ate crap. Stopped going to the gym. And I gained weight. So I need to reverse the trend. *duh* I’d like to be at least 1 dress size smaller by the Romantic Times convention at the end of April, preferably 2. I’m fairly motivated since nothing in my closet fits…

2. Exercise 3 times a week–at least. I’d been doing really well on this one. From 2003 to early 2006, I did. And I kept my weight about the same, give or take 5 pounds. Then deadlines exploded… Yes, I know, excuses, excuses. I just need to get off my big butt and do it. So I will.

3. Figure out what to do with my MySpace site. It’s a mess. I set it up, but I can’t figure out how to “personalize” it right. I’m such a techno-idiot when it comes to coding. I’ll probably end up begging and/or paying someone to fix this silly thing for me, but for now, I know it’s sitting out there untouched and I need to fix it.

4. Spend more time with family. 2006 had me so busy that I just didn’t spend the time with my family that I should. My munchkin cringes at the word deadline now. When I left to go on the retreat, it was to big alligator tears and pleas of “Please don’t go!” Retreats are necessary for a writer’s sanity, however. But deadlines can be negotiated. So I’m going to try to be a little more accessible in the coming year.

5. Write the best damn books I can. I say this every year, and I mean it every year. But every year (I hope) I get better. And every year, I have something new to say. In 2007, I have some exciting things I want to write, and I hope my plans all come together. Wish me luck!

What are your resolutions for 2007? C’mon, you can share. Or heck, what kind of books are you looking forward to reading in 2007? I got a list of those, too. LOVER REVEALED by JR Ward and CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE SEXY KIND by Karen Kelley are 2 that come to mind. How about you?

Happy Friday, gang! Today’s Feature Friday belongs to the new release of fellow author and good friend, Sylvia Day, who writes luscious historicals for Kensington Brava. This one sounds wonderful, and has received some rave reviews!

The Stranger I Married
Kensington Brava
ISBN: 0-7582-1474-X
ISBN-13: 9780758214744
Trade Paperback

Lady Pelham could not have designed a husband more suited to her needs. The Marquess of Grayson is a dear and enchanting friend and an unrepentant ladies’ man. Their union is solid; their hearts safe from one another. But every marriage has its surprises…

THEY WERE TOGETHER FOR ALL THE WRONG REASONS…

They are London’s most scandalous couple. Isabel, Lady Pelham, and Gerard Faulkner, Marquess of Grayson, are well matched in all things—their lusty appetites, constant paramours, wicked wits, provocative reputations, and their absolute refusal ever to ruin their marriage of convenience by falling in love with one another. Isabel knows such a charming rake will never appeal to her guarded heart, nor will she sway his philandering one. It is a most agreeable sham…until a shocking turn of events sends Gerard from her side.

Now, four years later, Gerard has come home to Isabel. But the carefree, boyish rogue who left has been replaced by a brooding, powerful, irresistible man who is determined to seduce his way into her affections. Gone is the devil-may-care companion who shared her friendship and nothing more, and in his place is temptation itself…a husband who desires Isabel body and soul and who will stop at nothing to win her love. No, this is not at all the man she had married. But he is the man who might finally steal her heart…

Reviews:

“I loved this book!” – The Romance Studio

“I loved losing myself in Gerard and Isabel’s struggle to come to an agreement on the status of their marriage.” – Romance Junkies

“I loved it. Could not put it down. Well done fantastic read!!!!!” – Rosemary, Rosemary’s Romance Books, Australia

“I loved reading The Stranger I Married…” – Just Erotic Romance Reviews

“I wholly loved it, and reward Ms. Day’s lovely, spicy tale with a Recommended Read!” – Fallen Angel Reviews

Watch the trailer here!

To purchase THE STRANGER I MARRIED, click over to Amazon or B&N.com.

Excerpt:

“His Lordship is at home, my lady.”

For a great many women such a statement was a common utterance and nothing of note, but for Isabel, Lady Grayson, it was so rarely heard, she could not remember the last time her butler had said the same to her.

She paused in the foyer, tugging off her gloves before handing them to the waiting footman. She took her time with the task, taking the extra brief moments to collect herself, and ascertain that her racing heart was not outwardly visible.

Grayson had returned.

Isabel couldn’t help but wonder why. He’d rejected every missive she sent to his steward, and had sent none to her. Having read the dowager’s letter, she knew what had broken him that day he’d left both London and her. She could imagine his pain, having seen his initial excitement and subsequent pride at becoming a father. As his friend, she wished Gray had allowed her to provide him more than just that one hour of comfort, but he’d turned away from her, and years had passed.

She smoothed her muslin skirts, and touched a hand to her upswept hair. When she caught herself checking her appearance, Isabel stopped with a muttered curse. This was Gray. He would not care how she looked. “The study?”

“Yes, my lady.”

The scene of that day.

She nodded, and squared her shoulders, shoring up her nerve. As ready as she would ever be, Isabel passed the curving staircase and turned into the first open door on the right. Despite her mental and physical preparations, the sight of her husband’s back struck her like a physical blow. He stood silhouetted in the window, appearing taller and definitely broader. His powerful torso tapered to a trim waist, beautifully curved ass, and long, muscular legs. Framed by the dark green velvet curtains, the perfect symmetry of his form stole her breath.

But there was a somber, oppressive air that surrounded him that was so distant from the carefree man she remembered. It forced her to take another deep breath before opening her mouth to speak.

As if he felt her presence, Gray turned before she managed a word. Her throat closed tight as a fist.

He was not at all the man she had married.

They stared at each other, both held motionless in the pregnant pause. Only a few years, and yet it seemed a lifetime had passed. Grayson was no longer a boy, not by any stretch of the imagination. His face had lost that faint remnant of youth, and time had etched its passing in the lines that bracketed his mouth and eyes. Not happy lines, she could see. Frown lines, lines of sorrow. The brilliant blue of his irises that had caused many women to fall in love with him were now a deeper, darker shade. They no longer smiled, and appeared to have seen far more than possible in only a four year span.

She raised a hand to her bodice, dismayed by the rapid lift and fall of her chest.

Gray had been beautiful before. Now, there were no words to describe him. She forced her breathing to slow, and fought off a sudden, desperate flare of panic. She had known how to handle the boy, but this…this man was not tamable. Had she met him anew, she would know to stay far away.

“Hello, Isabel.”

Even his voice had changed. It was deeper now, slightly raspy.

Isabel had no notion of what to say to him.

“You have not changed at all,” he murmured, striding toward her. The previous cockiness of his bearing was gone, replaced by the type of confidence one gained from walking through hell and surviving it.

Sucking in a deep breath, she was inundated with the familiar scent of him. A little spicier, perhaps, but he smelled like Gray, nevertheless. Staring up at his impassive face, she could do no more than shrug helplessly.

“I should have written,” he said.

“Yes, you should have,” she agreed. “Not just to warn me of your intent to visit, but before, if only to say that you were well. I have been worried about you, Gray.”

He gestured toward a nearby chair, and she sank into it gratefully. As he moved to the settee across from her, Isabel noted his quaint garb. While he wore trousers with jacket and waistcoat, the garments were plain, and of common materials. Whatever he had been doing these last years, it apparently had not required the latest fashions.

“I apologize for your worry.” One side of his mouth curved upward in a ghost of his former smile. “But I could not tell you I was well, when I was far from it. I could not bear to look at letters, Pel. It was not because they were from you. For years I avoided any sight of correspondence. But now…” He paused, and his jaw tightened, as if with determination. “I am not visiting.”

Yummy! I’m looking forward to reading this one…

I’m heading out of town for the next few days. I’ll be starting the yummy WICKED TIES excerpts on Sunday or Monday. There will be extra prizes for folks who’ve read WICKED TIES and post reviews to their favorite online sites. If you’ve done so, send me the link and I’ll enter you in the drawing.

Enjoy your weekend!

I hope everyone had a lovely holiday!! I disappeared for a few days to enjoy Christmas with my family. Santa brought me some lovely things that will facilitate faster book writing–I hope. So if you’ve been wishing I’d move faster, you might get that wish. The folks leave tomorrow, which will speed up the process even more.

Because I’ve been enjoying my holiday and I’m not quite ready to let go of my Christmas cheer yet, I thought I’d share a couple of photos with you. The first is if my tree.

We decorated as a family, of course, blending some of our new ornaments with some I’ve had since I was a child. It was a lovely tree. I’ve seen big debates elsewhere about the merits of white vs. colored lights, but there’s no debate for me. I’m a white light sort of woman.

Everyone here got into the spirit. Of course, my munchkin loved Christmas and cleaned up. Santa was good, as usual. Even RAH got out of his “Bah Humbug” mood long enough to laugh and celebrate. My folks were genuinely pleased to be here and celebrating with their only grandchild. But no one got as uniquely into the spirit my Hermione, aka Missy Meow.

I’m guessing she thought all the presents were for her, and if she would just hide among them, no one would take them away… As you can guess, she thought wrong. As I type, she’s sitting in my office meowing at me. Maybe she’s asking why Santa didn’t bring her any catnip.

But now that Christmas is over, we have to get back to the business of books and all the fun they bring. I’m starting a new Shelley Bradley novella for Samhain this week–after my lake retreat this weekend with fellow authors Karen Kelley and Melissa Schroeder and some of the other lovely ladies from Wichita Falls. I’m still putting the finishing touches on my secret project and hope to have it off to my agent soon.

It’s also prize time! Kathleen is the winner for December 22nd’s FEATURE FRIDAY – The Wolf of Cnoc Meadha blog. Contact me via the form on my website to claim your prize.

Brace yourself for a blog excerpt blowout in the next week or so. I’ve been saving up LOTS of juicy excerpts from WICKED TIES just to tempt everyone to rush to the bookstores. Very soon, I’ll start posting some of these sexy snippets. Stay tuned and get ready for a Happy New Year!

Every so often, I like to feature books by other authors. Since I’m gearing up for lots of WICKED TIES excerpts soon (the juicy ones I’ve been holding on to *g*), I’m featuring someone else this week–a super lady and a newer author over at New Concepts Publishing: Sherrill Quinn.

Sherrill’s story, The Wolf of Cnoc Meadha, is one from 5 of NCP’s best selling authors, all rolled into the Phoenix Rising I anthology.

Story blurb:

Connor mac Finnbheara, the son of the powerful king of the Daoine Sidhe, is sent on an errand by his mother to locate MacKenzie MacCallum. The queen is concerned about Mackey–the young woman had been a favorite in the king’s court many, many years before. A favorite wolfhound, that is. The queen, you see, had discovered the king in yet another dalliance with a flighty young Fae woman and in retaliation turned his favorite dog into a woman. In anger, the king banished Mackey to live in the human realm, never to return to the land of the Fae.

The queen thinks to ease two burdened souls at once. Connor will find Mackey and convince her she’s better off as a woman, and Mackey will soothe the prince’s troubled heart. There’s just one problem: Connor bears a curse of lycanthropy and, under the full moon, will attack anything Fae. The full moon is only a day away. Is Mackey human enough to be safe from harm?

Reviews:

4.5 Stars! “All the heroes are sexy, alpha-males that will have you wishing that you could have one in your Christmas stocking…” (Oleta Blaylock, JERR)

“PHOENIX RISING I is a brilliant compilation…from five talented authors…. Every reader is sure to find a story or two (or five) to love… This is one purchase you won’t regret.” (Lori Ann, RRT Erotic)

Excerpt:

“Where are you?”

Queen Una of the Daoine Sidhe passed her hand over the Well of Sight again and again, the scenes before her changing with each motion. First a small village near the sea, then a bustling city, a faery ring, a park with a lovely, placid lake … but she didn’t find what she was looking for.

She searched for MacKenzie McCallum, a young woman for whom she felt a particular responsibility because it was her fault the lass had been exiled to the human realm nearly two hundred years before.

But at least wee MacKenzie had been given the chance to live as a human instead of a dog. Una had changed her from a wolfhound to a woman all those many years ago … granted, it had been done in a fit of pique against King Finnbheara, and extending MacKenzie’s life sevenfold may have pushed the boundaries a bit, but still …

The lass should be embracing life with every breath, though Una was sure MacKenzie was moping about somewhere like some sort of bridge troll. “She cannae expect normal when she used to be a dog,” Una muttered.

Her oldest son, Connor, walked into the room. “Who’re you spying on now?” he asked with a smile on his handsome face. His deep tones reflected the cultured schooling he’d received in the human realm, although his voice still carried the lilt of the Sidhe. He was tall and strong, the best warrior the Fae had.

And that quickly, she knew a way to help both of these wayward children. Connor would be just the thing for MacKenzie. Una would use her son’s kind heart against him, as it were, but for his own good, of course.

“I don’t think I like the look on your face.” One dark eyebrow rose as he slowed his pace. The lad acted as if he didn’t want to get too close to her.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. The males of her race were so suspicious. Of course, it wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that the women of the Daoine Sidhe were known to be a sneaky lot.

“Why, Connor, me love. Whatever do ye mean?” Una pasted what she hoped was an innocent look on her face which, by the dark expression on his, failed woefully.

“You’re up to something. I recognize that look in your eyes.” He narrowed his gaze. “You and your machinations. Whose life are you about to make miserable now?”

“Oh, go on wi’ ye.” She smiled and patted him on the cheek as if he were a wee boy in knee britches. The gesture would throw him off. “Ye’re just too distrustful, is what ye are.”

Sure enough, a scowl crossed his features, showing why he was sometimes called Faolchú Cnoc Meadha–The Wolf of Cnoc Meadha. Where most of the Daoine Sidhe were of fair complexion, he sported the darkest of hair and had skin with a tawny cast. And while the others of the trooping faeries were glad of heart, Connor tended to be serious and brooding. She’d have thought he was a Changeling had she not birthed the lad herself.

Then, of course, there was the matter of his curse …

And if that wasn’t enough for the lad to bear, here he was with one blue eye and one brown. Both of which were narrowed on her at this very moment.

She pretended reluctance. “Weel …” Waving her hand over the Well, she created a picture from her memory, and pointed to a lovely young woman with short, curly blonde hair and sparkling eyes the deep blue of the ocean. “See that lass there?” She watched him lean in for a closer look.

“Aye.” He nodded, his gaze intent upon the young woman.

Una gripped her fingers together to keep from clapping in glee. He was interested. So like his da, he was. Show him a pretty face, and other interesting bits and pieces, and he couldna look at anything else.

Of course, Connor had more moral fortitude than did his da. She knew her son. Once he committed himself to something, he stayed committed. He was perfect for MacKenzie. “I’ve lost track of her. It’s important I make sure she’s doin’ all right.”

When she didn’t go on, her son shot her a look of impatience. “Why?” he prompted.

This is where it could get tricky. She crossed her fingers behind her back. “The poor thing has spent the last several years pinin’ for a cure.”

“For what?” he asked, staring intently at the young woman.

Victory was close at hand. Una fought to keep her feet still; she so wanted to dance in glee. “Her loneliness and isolation; the grief she refuses to acknowledge at bein’ exiled to the realm of humans.” Una heaved a sigh, looking at her son from under her lashes. “It would mean the world to me if ye’d find her, lad. Just to set me mind at ease that she’s doin’ well.”

Connor trailed a long finger across the surface of the water, making the young woman’s image ripple. He seemed deep in thought, a frown pulling again at his brow. Finally he asked, “But if she’s Fae, I’d be a danger to her.”

“Oh, she’s no’ Fae, Connor, no’ really. I dinna think ye’d be putting her in any danger.” She made sure she maintained a mixture of concern and hope on her face. He was such a stubborn man. Got that trait from his da, he did.

“We’re still a day away from the full moon anyway,” he replied in an absentminded way, still staring at the image of the lass in the Well.

Una wondered at his thoughts. She knew what he saw: a petite woman with a pixie face, stubborn chin and slender body, dressed in a knit top and flirty skirt.

“It shouldn’t take long, should it?” He trailed his finger in the water again, not taking his eyes off the reflection of the young woman.

“Weel, ye could also be about findin’ the woman who can break yer curse.” Una laid one hand on her son’s brawny forearm. When he made to draw away from her, she tightened her fingers. “It’s past time, Connor. Ye deserve some happiness, too.”

His jaw clenched, the muscles twitching, then he relaxed, though his face remained solemn. “Now’s not the time to be looking, Mother. One more day and the full moon is upon me; I’ll kill anything Fae that comes across my path.”

Una’s heart clenched at the misery that had been visited upon her eldest child. The three nights of the full moon were the worst for him, a time when he could not control his beast. When the moon rose full and bright, and bathed the night in its silvery glow, Connor shifted into a werewolf. Because he would attack any of the Daoine Sidhe in that condition, the king forbade him to be anywhere within the Fae lands.

And so he was banished to the human realm for those three days.

“Then ye’ve no worries here, for this one isna Fae. Well, no’ much, she isn’t. No’ enough to put her in danger,” she said, and pointed back at the image in the Well. “The wee lass has been living under assumed names for just about the entire time she’s been in the human realm.” She shook her head, wincing a little to remember MacKenzie’s incredible sadness after she’d found and lost love. “She fell in love with a young man an’ they were married. Then he died from a lingering illness and … weel, she’s been alone ever since.”

Una pursed her lips and tapped one finger against her chin. “The last I knew, she was goin’ by the name Bridget O’Neill. An’, of course, she could have changed her appearance as well. Two hundred years with humans is a long time for someone who ages very slowly.” Una slid her hand up to his wide shoulder and patted it, trying to comfort this wild child of hers, this man so full of sorrow.

As if being the heir to the Daoine Sidhe throne weren’t enough, he was destined to carry a beast within him the rest of his days. Unless a cure could be found.

This had to work. The son of King Finnbheara had borne his curse too long.

With a wave of her hand, she brought up a closer view of the young woman. “This is how I remember her, the last time I ‘saw’ her. But,” she said in a soft voice, laying her hand in the crook of his elbow, “you should have no worries. A day is plenty o’ time. All ye need to do is find her, talk to her, show her what a wonderful life she has, now that she’s human.”

“Now that she’s …” he cocked one brow. “And she used to be … ?”

“Oh, she was such a lovely wolfhound.”

Very intriguing… Sounds like some good holiday reading!

WINNERS, WINNERS!
I haven’t announced winners in a while. How very Scrooge of me. Just so you don’t think I’m sitting in my toasty office saying “Bah humbug,” let me pick some blog winners… By the way, I’m loving all the posts. Keep them coming!!

For December 11th’s What Do YOU Value in a Book blog, the winner is: Jennifer Y.
For December 14th’s So I Received This Yesterday…Part 2 blog, the winner is: Maureen
For December 16th’s Feature Friday: WICKED TIES…with a DECADENT Twist, the winner is: Debbie E.
For December 19th’s Unofficial Start to the Holidays blog, the winner is: Renee

Contact me via the contact form on my Web site with your address. Also let me know which of my backlist books (BOUND AND DETERMINED, STRIP SEARCH or NAUGHTY LITTLE SECRET) you’d like. The last of I’m giving away as a download only, since I haven’t received any print copies of the book yet.

Happy Friday!

Today is the unofficial start of the holidays for me. My folks are flying in this afternoon. So while Christmas itself isn’t for another 6 days, there will be lots of baking and shopping and getting together with friends starting tonight. I couldn’t be more relieved.

There’s been a lot of conversation around here that it just doesn’t feel like Christmas. A lot of people have cited the weather. It’s unseasonably warm here. Lots of days in the 70′s. Being originally from Los Angeles, that doesn’t bother me. But I wasn’t sure why I wasn’t in the Christmas spirit. The tree was up and decorated. I have little Santas and Frostys all over my house and front door. The lights are up on the house. Maybe it was because I bought so many presents online and had them shipped directly, instead of fighting the lines at the mall and post office. No, wait. The holidays aren’t about the lines. Can’t be. I wondered if it was because I hadn’t wrapped any presents yet. Hmm. I was getting warmer…but still, that wasn’t it. Even my munchkin seems a little blase this year.

Then it occurred to me–it was my parents not being with us. Somehow, my mother incessently doing laundry and baking every kind of cookie known to man while Dad sits nearby and watches hours of Fox News makes Christmas. He and the munchkin will sit around arguing about who is the smelliest while RAH lights pumpkin candles and retires for hours of 3rd party war games like Joint Operations: Escalation on his computer. There’s Bing Crosby singing in the background somewhere, and my dad grousing for someone to turn it off. (He hates Christmas music.) Missy Meow is meowing…and meowing and meowing–hence her name. I’m in the middle taking it all in…and trying to sneak a little alone time with my latest book.

I think what I’m saying is that it’s the sense family and togetherness, no matter what everyone is doing, that makes the holidays for me. These are odd traditions–my family has a lot of them–but that’s part of what defines Christmas for me. I can’t wait to get started!!

Since we’ve been talking a lot this week about DECADENT and it’s cover [which isn't final. My agent and I asked if it was possible to remove the purple from that image and use a different color. I created a mock-up, so now we'll see what happens...], I thought it would be fun to give you a new snipped of WICKED TIES–one part that features the hero of DECADENT.

I hope you enjoy meeting Deke, along with seeing a little more sizzle between Morgan and Jack!

WICKED TIES
by Shayla Black
copyright Shelley Bradley 2006

This excerpt contains adult material. If you are not 18 or older, please navigate elsewhere.

“Take care, Morgan.” Deke paused at the cottage’s front door late that afternoon.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

From his lofty height, he looked down, his unusual blue eyes swirling with concern. He cupped her shoulder gently. “I’m going to have these original photos examined for any forensic evidence we can find. In the meantime, Jack will take care of you.”

Morgan had liked Deke right away. His angular face softened up with a smile. He just seemed…nice. Definitely strong enough to protect. And he was easy to joke with. Probably easy to talk to, as well.

Unlike some people.

Morgan darted a glance to her right, at Jack. His gaze was fixed on Deke’s palm caressing her shoulder. His glower couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. What was up with him?

“If Jack doesn’t take care of you, you walk over to that phone,” Deke pointed to the sleek black unit mounted on the wall, “and call me. I’m the second speed dial button. I’ll rush right out to give you whatever you need.” He winked.

Morgan wagged a chastising finger at him, but she couldn’t completely erase her smile. His teasing flirtation coaxed her. The man was a born flirt. He probably had women foaming at the mouth for his attention, but it was sweet of him to keep the mood light when both her safety and her sex life were weighing heavy on her mind.

Another glance at Jack told her that he was not amused. Not in the least.

“Thanks,” she murmured. “I’ll be eager to hear if you found any fingerprints on the photos. Or anything that might help.”

With another caress of her shoulder, Deke waggled his brows at her. “I’ll definitely keep in touch.”

Again, she laughed. Then he waved at Jack and made his way out to the sunset-drenched swamp.

When the door shut, leaving her alone with Jack, sudden silence thrummed around her. Her smile died. In the distance, she heard Deke’s boat splash away from the little dock. Inside, her heartbeat picked up its pace. Tension wrapped around her. Morgan had no idea why, but she didn’t question the thick air.

“Thank you for asking him to help. I’m grateful to have any extra assistance that might identify this stalker so I can have my life back.”

Jack paused a long time before answering. “Deke is smart and well-connected. If there’s any forensic evidence to be found on those photos, he’ll turn it up.”

“Good.” She nodded.

Then the awkward silence fell. She couldn’t read Jack’s expression, but she felt his displeasure
churning the air. Morgan frowned, completely confused. Did he think her flirtation with Deke meant something? Would he care if it had? Or was he just annoyed with her presence now that she’d surrendered to his every whim last night? Maybe he just wished she’d go away.

“And Deke seemed nice,” she murmured, hoping to lighten the tense atmosphere.

Jack snorted. “Deke is a lot of things. Thinking he’s nice could be a costly mistake.”

Morgan hesitated, brow furrowed with confusion. “He’s your business partner. If he’s not honest—”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t honest. He is, as the day is long. He’s trustworthy and brave and smart, with a never-say-die attitude. He’s everything the military wants in their elite forces. But where women are concerned, I wouldn’t call him nice.”

“It sounds like you’re warning me away from him,” she challenged. “Would it matter if I was interested?”

Jack shifted, shoulders tensing. “If you’re having a hard time dealing with a few velvet ropes and silken commands, Deke would shatter your delicate sensibilities, cher. When it comes to sex, he plays seriously—but only if there are three people in the room.”

Three people? “He likes to watch?”

The gravelly laugh Jack gave in response to her question took her aback. “Sex isn’t a spectator sport for Deke.”

Wow. The big German-descended warrior with the all-American smile actively engaged in the very French word ménage. Talk about a newsflash…

A vision of Jack on one side, Deke on the other, both pleasuring her helplessly bound body—it flashed through her mind, framed in white heat and red sin. Moisture pooled between her legs. In an instant, she went from damp to nearly dripping. Her clit ached without mercy.

Stunned, embarrassed, Morgan backed away. “Oh.”

“Oh.” Jack shot back with an acid grin as he followed her deeper into the cottage. “Next to him, I look like a choir boy.”

Morgan nearly choked. “You’ve got to be kidding! You, a choir boy?”

“Hey, I was one until puberty. The choir director at Our Lady of Perpetual Hope told me I sang like an angel.”

“And you’ve got a mind like the devil.”

Jack merely smiled. “I’ve barely given you an introduction, cher. There’s so much more I could show you…”

She believed him. Utterly. The very thought of the sensations and feelings he could introduce her to made Morgan shiver and ache. And not just for the stunning release he could give her. In his arms, his bed, she’d felt so liberated and alive. It frightened her to think that the only place she could fell completely free to be herself was bound to Jack’s bed.

God, no. Please no.

“There won’t be any more of that,” she vowed. “You told me to give it a night. I did. I know enough now to do the show. That’s all I need.”

Jack sidled closer. “Are you going to tell me you didn’t like it?”

Wouldn’t it be nice if she could, and he’d believe it? Morgan knew better. “No. But that doesn’t mean we need an encore.”

“What’s holding you back, your fiancé?”

Morgan gritted her teeth. Damn it, she’d kept up the pretense of a relationship with Brandon to keep Jack at arm’s length, but her lie was doing a lousy job. In fact, his question seemed to taunt her for being every bit as naughty as he was.

“To some degree.” Maybe pretending remorse would turn him off. “Yes. I feel terrible.”

“You might, but it has nothing to do with cheating. Why weren’t you wearing your ring when you came to meet me and talk about sex?”

“I—I don’t have one yet. I want to pick it out myself.”

Jack studied her with a tilt of his head and knowing dark eyes. “I think you’re more afraid of your wants than cheating on your fiancé. Wanna prove me wrong?”

How could he know that? How could he just look at her and tell?

“Go to hell. I gave it a night, like I said I would. You’re not taunting me into giving you another. No more domination. No more sex. And no more conversation about this.”

With a determined shake of her head, Morgan turned away. She half expected Jack to grab her arm, stop her, growl something. She was nearly to the bedroom door when she started to wonder if she’d stunned him speechless. To feel both victory and crushing distress.

His voice stopped her cold…right before it made her blood boil.

“I can fulfill your fantasies, cher.”

“Stop.” Hand on the doorknob, Morgan paused. She drew in a ragged breath. “Damn you. Just…just stop.”

“Non.” He stepped closer, closer, until he curved his hands around her waist, pressed his erection against her ass, and whispered in her ear. “Every last one of your fantasies. Starting right now.”

Happy weekend!

If you followed the drama that orginated last week over the cover of DECADENT, there’s now a part 2.

If you’ll recall the original cover (if not, scroll down to my December 8th entry), you’ll remember it was very blurry and there was the shape of a person many of us believed to be a woman (myself included), but I was later told it’s a man. Who looks like he’s wearing a lacy diaper and has wrapped himself in gauze. Why? Your guess is as good as mine. Given all that, I asked as sweetly as I know how if it would be possible to get another cover. Sometimes it’s too late. And sometimes the Art Department does whatever it dang well wants. I’ve asked before and been told no. This time, they said they would try. Brownie points for that. Huge relief for me.

That night, I scoured all kinds of sites looking for images so I could provide ideas of covers I liked. I sent over 5 that I thought represented the mood/tone I’d like to see. I’ll say up front that, while this is primarily a book about a menage relationship, the whys of it and the what happens to it, they did not want to put 3 people on the cover for fear that book chains, like Borders or B&N, would refuse to stock the book, making it harder for you to find. So, 2 people on the cover only. You with me?

Yesterday, my editor sent me another draft of a cover for DECADENT. I’m gathering they didn’t just slap this together. The original draft they sent me was version 5. This was version 17. So they’ve been putting effort into it. They’ve modified one of the images I sent their way, in fact. So here it is…

Dying for your thoughts! Post away…

I was having this conversation with RAH (Romance Author Husband) the other day. Actually, it’s a conversation I’ve had with others before. No right or wrong answer, just personal preference.

Do you prefer books about things or people?

While most genre fiction books will have both, typically they center on one or the other.

I think of books like the Da Vinci code as being about things. Sophie and Langdon take you on a journey, but the journey is primarily about solving Sophie’s grandfather’s murder, his mysterious life, and the astounding secret he’s been hiding from Sophie–and the world–for years.

The book fascinated me. Whether you liked the concept or not, the blend of religion, history, philosophy and politics sucked me in. The giant “What if?” intrigued me. The fast pace kept it hard to put down. But, as I said, it was about things. Neither Sophie nor Langdon made huge changes in self or discoveries (at least not to me) that altered their cores. They remained largely the same and simply dealt with all the unfolding revelations and events.

Books about people are more like giant character studies set against a backdrop of specific events. On the surface, they can sound dull: Character A meets character B. As character A learns something and/or events happen, they change a character’s deeply-held belief. We’re really focused on the interaction of the characters in this story. The events around are more of a launching pad or a side note. The point is to show how the main character changes their very essense. This character should LEARN something, so that, at the end of the book, s/he is a different person. In Romance Land, the hero or heroine learn to overcome their fatal flaw through the love of the other and deserve their happy ending.

These are my favorites. But I find that plot-oriented people are all about the action. Characters? Eh, not so much. RAH fits into this category. So does my mother, for that matter.

I hear you saying now, I’ve read plenty of books that have both. Each does have some degree of both.

The difference (to me) is that “events” in a plot-driven book are about “things” happening. The bomb explodes. The king is crowned. The fence is crushed in the accident. The descriptions of the aftermath centers around the things that result. In the examples above, maybe after the bomb, refugees would flee. After the king is crowned, the rebellion would start. After the fence is crushed, the local newspaper would run an editorial about the perils of teenage drivers. Each of these would set off another event, and another, etc.

In a character-driven book, once the bomb explodes, we’d focus in on a handful of people and explore intimately how it affected their lives. Maybe someone lost their spouse, and we see him or her try to recover while struggling to protect the surviving children, while dealing with survivor’s guilt. Or after the king is crowned, a character-driven book might go into the life of a palace servant and delve into how or why she might be forced to become a concubine, the ways in which she copes and deals with suddenly being an outcast from her family and friends. And after the fence is destroyed? Maybe the character-driven book deals with what happens after a teenager drives drunk, realizes that he was very lucky not to have killed with someone, sees the event as one that made them hit rock bottom, and the rest of the book centers around the teenager getting sober.

Totally different books. All valid.

So I’m curious to know which do you like better and why?

Oh, and blog winners for this week!
* For December 6th’s Eye Candy blog, TERESA W is the day’s winner.
* For December 8th’s So I Received This Yesterday…blog, Shari C is the day’s winner.
* For December 9th’s Feature Friday blog, LLL is the day’s winner.
Y’all send me a contact form and I’ll tell you about your prizes, get all the info and send them your way!! Congrats to all!

Keep playing…more to come!

Yes, I know it’s Saturday, but it’s before 6am, so I’m not too far behind. It’s been a hellacious week. And besides, I’m feeding you excerpts, so no biting the hand that feeds you just because I’m a tad late.

I didn’t even ask everyone to vote because lately y’all have been single-minded about WICKED TIES. Which doesn’t hurt my feelings in the least. You all DO realize that I’ve been saving some of the juicier excerpts for release week, right? Yep, I’ve been teasing you with little bits and pieces of this book. Teasing is in the author’s job description. Honest!

The really sexy stuff is coming later this month. BUT because it’s the holidays and I’m feeling nice today (a rare occasion–take advantage of it!), I’ll post a little bit of an excerpt I’d been saving. Not all…just enough to give you something to look forward to. Yes, for the record, I can be evil. :twisted: Enjoy…

WICKED TIES
by Shayla Black
copyright Shelley Bradley 2006

This excerpt contains adult material. If you are not 18 or older, please navigate elsewhere.

Jack paused at the bedroom window and peered in. Empty. No Morgan in the bed or anywhere in the room. Damn it, she’d defied his good advice to rest. No doubt, she needed a strong man to heat up her ass to keep her in line.

His palm itched at the thought, but he shoved the tempting idea away. After the last thirty minutes—hell, the last few hours of watching her sleep—his pike-hard cock was finally getting the clue that he wasn’t getting lucky. He welcomed a rest from having most of the blood in his body nowhere near his brain.

In fact, he needed to get her some clothes. Preferably made of flannel and three sizes too big. If he watched her parade around in tight purple leather and stiletto boots for too long, he’d be too distracted by wanting to fuck her to protect her in case the worst happened. The fucking would happen, he reminded himself, but not yet. Not until he was sure she was safe. Not until he’d earned a bit more of her trust and figured out how to get under her skin.

He’d need all that if he wanted her to completely surrender to him.

He walked on, pulling his cell phone from his belt clip and dialed Brice. He’d get his grandfather to pick her up a few things. But after the sixth ring, he hung up with a curse. The old codger was probably having coffee with the “boys” at the local diner, playing Bourée, and solving all the ills of the world. Too bad he couldn’t convince Brice to buy an answering machine or a cell phone. He’d call back later… but that meant waiting to cover Morgan’s tempting form.

At the back of the cabin, Jack paused, listening to the bayou, watching alligators slosh into the water and disappear beneath the murky surface. Cicadas sang the last of the night’s song as dawn approached. Even in the February chill, moist air clung to everything.

This place had always represented peace to him. Not today. In the last few months since Brice had given the cabin to him, he’d made some modifications and upgrades—really made it his. It was the closest thing to a home he had. He rarely brought anyone here. He meant to…but in the end, he hid this place from submissives and all but his closest friends. So why had he brought Morgan here so readily?

Not looking too hard for the answer, Jack peered at the video equipment well hidden by the trees and the eaves. Looked good, functional, as it scanned the area behind the cottage. Then he continued on, trudging around the corner of the little house.

Flickering golden light emanated from the little window in the middle of the wall. Morgan was in the bathroom and had found the candles. What she hadn’t done was completely close the shutters. She’d tried, but the broken one wouldn’t extend over the window.

On quiet feet, Jack approached the small glass pane. He shouldn’t look; he knew that. But he didn’t have a lot of scruples where she was concerned.

Edging closer, Jack peered in, looking into the narrow bathroom. Steam rose from the claw-footed tub. Beside it, Morgan ran a hand under the water stream. Apparently satisfied with the temperature, she set the plug in the tub then backed away.

Her hands settled on the first button of Alyssa’s leather get-up. At a push of her thumb, the button came loose. A second followed suit. The soft, rounded edged of her cleavage and a hint of the black bra he hadn’t forgotten peeked out to torment him.

A sweat broke out across Jack’s chest and back. His cock, which he’d just managed to get under control, rose up swiftly to full staff and saluted the view.

But the view only improved. A third button, centered around her naval, came loose from its mooring. As the fourth and final button came undone, so did Jack’s ability to breathe.

Morgan peeled the garment off and laid it on the counter. He glued his gaze to her slender torso and high, round breasts as she reached behind her to unfasten the tight mini skirt.

With an alluring wriggle, a sexy shimmy, she peeled the garment down the sweet curve of her hips and past firm thighs.

When she stood again and set the skirt aside, the only thing stopping him from fully taking in the pale temptation of her body was a lacy bra that did nothing to hide her hard nipples, and a teeny-tiny thong.

Damn, was it possible to have a fatal heart attack at thirty-one?

He should walk away now. Focus on surveillance until he knew she was safe. Stop fixating on a woman he planned to fuck once…just so Brandon could appreciate the pain and rage a man felt when he knew his woman had surrendered willingly to another hard dick.

But walking away from Morgan was easier said than done. At this point, he couldn’t find the will to try.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he watched as she reached behind her to unclasp the bra. The movement thrust her breasts forward, accentuating their round, firm shape and those pretty nipples he thirsted to suck into his mouth.

A moment later, they came into view. Plump, soft, blushing pink, and swollen, they beckoned like little bits of heaven topping the pale beauty of her breasts, which shimmered with dancing, golden candlelight. He grabbed the ledge outside the window and let out a ragged breath.

How the hell was he going to keep from fucking her into oblivion in the next ten minutes?

Before he could answer that question, she slid the little black thong off and tossed it away, revealing the last of her secrets to him. And boy, was it a doozie.

The tiny patch of hair covering Morgan’s pussy was fiery red.

Now Jack knew how a bull felt when someone waved something red in its face: enflamed, ready to charge.

Toro!

He braced his hands against the side of the cabin to steady himself as Morgan stepped into the tub and sank into the steaming water, eyes closed.

Damn, he had to stop spying on her like some loser sicko who couldn’t persuade a woman to undress for him. And he would…as soon as she stopped slashing water over her shoulders, on her breasts. The water beaded up on her creamy skin, running in rivulets that dripped from succulent nipples. He’d love to lick her up with his tongue.

The sun edged up over the horizon behind Jack, making it harder to see inside the little bathroom. It was probably a sign that he should be noble and stop acting like a peeping Tom.

Morgan dragged a thumb over one of her hard nipples, and her lips parted in a silent gasp.

Fuck nobility.

Happy weekend!

Yesterday, my editor at Berkley emailed me and said, “Here’s a draft of your cover for DECADENT. I think it’s fabulous.”

The picture below was attached.

Um, what is it?

I wrote my editor back and asked if they would PLEASE redo this cover. Thankfully, they are at the concept stage and we have time to change this, so she agreed. As aside, in the cover process… Yes, the author writes the book, but the publisher is paying the bills to edit, produce and distribute the book. They decide the cover look and book packaging, not the author. Publishers ask our opinion, but that’s about it. Unless you’re Nora Roberts or Jenny Crusie and have the clout to have cover approval written into your contract. Alas, I’m not there yet. So, getting them to agree to try again was HUGE for me. If they had asked me sooner in the cover process for the covers of BOUND AND DETERMINED (which I call Virgin Barbie and Guido go to the prom) and STRIP SEARCH (the book is about stripping, but no one shows any skin on this cover!), I would have told them the covers were totally inappropriate for the books in time to fix them. But they didn’t ask, just sent me the final cover looks and said it was unchangable. *sigh*

There are a long list of things I don’t like about this sample cover for DECADENT, but I’d like to hear what you like/dislike from y’all. Just as a reminder, here’s the backcover copy, so you what what the book is about…

Two men are better than one…

How can a virgin seeking happily-ever-after with a hot pop star who has a penchant for threesomes win her fantasy man? Kimber Edgington desperately needs a plan to convince Jesse McCall, who’s been her friend and secret crush since they spent a summer together as teenagers, that they are meant for each other. But all the tabloid stories about his sexual escapades make her feel oh-so inadequate.

Determined to prove she’s woman enough for Jesse, Kimber turns to bodyguard Deke Trenton for sexual education. Bold and brash, Deke warns Kimber that playing with him is playing with fire. But he can’t bear to imagine the innocent beauty in someone else’s arms. So Deke and his super-sexy friend, Luc, take Kimber under their wings and dangerously close to the edge of ecstasy. Though she’s saved herself for Jesse, Kimber soon learns, he’s not the man adept at stoking her aching, endless need. That’s Deke, and he can’t resist when Kimber begs for more–and more…

So lay it on me. Did I do the right thing by asking them to go back to the drawing board? Why or why not? Enquiring minds and all that…