Hi everybody!
Giselle here.  When I asked myself what I wanted to blog about today here at FAB, one topic grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me into submission:

Wedding Heat 

What is Wedding Heat?

Glad you asked! Wedding Heat is my new erotic series. The first ebook came out in late April, and a new Wedding Heat title will be released every two weeks or so. The stories are all centered around Maggie and Ed’s wedding at a luxury woodland resort, but forget the happy couple—it’s the guests that make this wedding sizzle! There are family, friends, and co-workers of all genders and sexual preferences attending Maggie and Ed’s wedding. Some are looking for love, some for new experiences, but nobody anticipated the kind of sexual release they would find in the woods. We’re talking HOT STUFF, so adults only.

Why Wedding Heat?

Lots of readers LOVE weddings, so why not a whole SERIES dedicated to the naughty goings-on at one wedding? Sure the bride and groom get in on the action, but weddings are about so much more than the happy couple. Guests flock to weddings with their own expectations, their own baggage, and their own desires. So, as much as the Wedding Heat series is anchored by the happy couple, it’s really an ongoing tale of the wedding as a whole. I’m sure most of us have attended more weddings as guests than we have as brides or grooms.

Why a series instead of a book?

I love falling in love with characters on TV and visiting them every week, but with so many reality shows on television now, I find I’m watching TV less and less. I started asking myself where I could satisfy my need to form those kinds of bonds with fictional characters. Stories? A series of stories? Yes! Perfect. That’s why I started writing the Wedding Heat stories. I figured there were probably other readers in the same boat, people who want something to look forward to as the weeks go by, something to fill that void. That’s why I decided on short stories–they would take up about the same amount of time as watching a TV show.

Where can I get Wedding Heat stories?

Each installation of Wedding Heat will be sold as an individual ebook from eXcessica Publishing and available through pretty much every major distributor–like Amazon, All Romance, and Barnes & Noble. Though there are common threads throughout and readers will get the full impact of ongoing plot lines by reading stories in order, the series is written in such a way that you can pick up anywhere and enjoy a really sexy story.

What do the covers look like?

The covers of Wedding Heat titles all look something like this one for the first ebook in the series:

The first two Wedding Heat titles (One in the Hand & Two in the Bush) are available now. To get in on the action, check out the Wedding Heat release schedule at the series website: http://weddingheat.wordpress.com/

Hugs,

Giselle

Find Giselle Renarde at:

Her blog: http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com
Her website: http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/erotica
Twitter: http://twitter.com/GiselleRenarde

You know you’ve thought it at least once: A sassy chicka with a bit of an attitude and some extra sway in her step … “she’s such a bitch!”

One of my absolute besties, Jenn, told me that when she first met me, she thought I was a big B, until she realized that I actually was shy. (Disturbing how quiet gets interpreted in that manner, isn’t it?)

Anywho, today kicks off a very special occasion as I officially join Flirty Author Bitches as a regular contributor! (Cue applause!) Yep, that’s right … once a month – specifically the fourth Thursday – I’ll bring all sorts of fun and goodness.

If I’m scheduled for the fourth Thursday, what am I doing here today? Yeah, there’s a reason why I’m a writer. I don’t do math well.

Do I fit the FAB mold? I’ve hit every single one of those categories. Despite being married, I still love a good flirt – whether it’s male or female. Recently, I introduced my hot librarian friend Jilly (name cutely truncated to protect the not-so-innocent) to some family friends. When they asked how we met, Jilly said that she emailed me a picture of her boobs and we became fast-friends. Come on, a body and a mind? How sexy is that? (Seriously, I didn’t know about that goodness until we met in person.)

As an author, I know some of FAB’s other contributors in “real” life. Last summer, Lisa Fox and I did an erotic reading together at Happy Endings in New York, and I’m chaptermates with the talented Lex Valentine (who also put together the video trailer for my m/m/f paranormal The Vampire, The Witch & The Werewolf: Chains of Silver).

So before I continue to babble on, let’s start wrapping up this first introductory column. I tend to wear many hats. In addition to being a mother of two young-ins, I’m a wife, professor, editor and writer. I also enjoy “giving back” to my writing-community and serve as vice president of OCC/RWA, and I’m a bit of a “special interest ho” as a member of Savvy Authors, YAWRA, Chick Lit Writers of the World, FF&P, Rainbow Romance Writers and Passionate Ink. Whew!

If you’re joining any conference hops this year, I’ll be at RT in Chicago, RWA Nationals in Anaheim, Authors After Dark (where I’ll be reading runes!) in New Orleans, and the GayRomLit Retreat in Albuquerque. I’m always thrilled to meet fellow writers – those just starting and established.

Until next month! Get your FAB on!

Louisa Bacio

I have a new series out, and I’m sharing here an excerpt for the first time! It’s not even on my own website yet!

The Dominatrix Fantasy Series is available as a trilogy set which includes a bonus short story, but you can also buy the individual novellas for 99c each if you just want a taste

SPANKED, DENIED & COLLARED, Trilogy Set: Dominatrix Fantasy Series (FemDom BDSM Erotica)

SPANKED, DENIED, & COLLARED is the trilogy set of the Dominatrix Fantasy Series (also available separately) and includes the bonus short story TAPE. These are adults-only erotic romance stories from Amazon Erotica Bestselling author Shoshanna Evers.

Trilogy set: Amazon, Smashwords, B&N

He’s about to get the hottest punishment of his life…SPANKED, Dominatrix Fantasy Novella 1: Amazon, Smashwords, B&N

He’s in a male chastity belt, and at her mercy until he submits…DENIED, Dominatrix Fantasy Novella 2: Amazon, Smashwords, B&N

Will he submit to being lent out to her friends? COLLARED, Dominatrix Fantasy Novella 3: Amazon, Smashwords, B&N

Adults-Only Excerpt from Spanked, the first novella in the Dominatrix Fantasy Series.

Stop reading if you are under 18. I mean it.

Copyright Shoshanna Evers 2012 All rights reserved.

Victoria brought herself down onto Blake’s face, wanting him to feel the weight of her, to feel enveloped by her wetness, suffocated by it.

“Lick,” she ordered, and gasped as he complied. He sucked her clit full into his mouth, rolling it between his lips and tongue.

When she’d spanked him and made him lick her through her leather pants she’d been so hot for him, even though she didn’t want to show it. To have him on his knees and doing something that required quite a bit of submission had aroused her to the point where she could have come with just the slightest touch to her clit.

“Faster,” she breathed.

He licked her, moving his mouth and jaw so rapidly there was no way he could keep up the pace.

Good. Let that strong jaw of his get tired—she’d still be here, sitting on his face for as long as she desired.

That thought, along with Blake’s talented tongue, brought on a crashing orgasm. She controlled herself, not wanting to break the kid’s nose with her bucking hips, but she didn’t hold back her moans of pleasure as she climaxed.

She lifted her hips, her knees still planted on either side of his handsome face. Her juices covered his lips as he grinned up at her.

“Not tired yet?” she asked, smiling back.

“Nope. I mean, no Ma’am.”

“Lick me again,” she said, but this time, she didn’t move to sit on his face.

“Ma’am?” he asked, obviously confused.

“Sit up and do it.”

He moved his hands from behind his head and used them to hold himself up on his elbows so he had better access to her.

“I didn’t say you could move your hands, now did I? Lie back down.”

Blake fell back and laced his hands behind his head. “Sorry, Ma’am.”

“Try again. I said I want you to lick me. Sit up and keep your hands where they are.”

Blake grunted as he basically did a half-sit up, holding himself up with his abdominal muscles, his hands still laced behind his head. God he looked good, his muscles straining, his abs looking like the perfect six-pack. No, eight-pack.

“Lick.”

Victoria kept a stern expression on her face, but she couldn’t help but feel aroused by the sudden realization dawning on Blake’s face. She was going to make him pleasure her in a very awkward position, one he couldn’t possibly stay in comfortably.

And if he had to lie back a bit to ease his burning muscles, then she had the perfect excuse to punish him some more. Win-win.

Blake’s tongue slipped out past his lips, millimeters away from her body as she maintained her position on her knees above his face. He forced himself up a bit more and finally reached her wet slit.

Knowing he was probably already experiencing some muscle pain from the impromptu workout made his mouth feel all the sweeter when he finally brought his lips and tongue onto to her, licking her with renewed vigor.

He groaned against her pussy but continued to lick her, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

“Tired yet?” she asked, playfully moving away another inch so he had to pull his abs even tighter to reach her.

“Yes Ma’am,” he grunted.

“I thought you wanted to lick me?”

“Please, Ma’am,” he said, falling back onto her pillow, heaving a sigh as his muscles finally relaxed after being in a contracted sit-up position for so long.

“I see, you don’t like pussy,” she teased. “I should have guessed as much when I saw how much you loved to lick up your own come.”

“I love pussy,” he said. “I mean, I love your pussy, Ma’am.”

“And yet here I offer myself—my shrine—to you, and you lay back down and refuse to lick it because of a little discomfort?”

While she wasn’t really upset with him, the look of confusion and concern that crossed his face at her words thrilled her. She loved messing with her subs’ heads, twisting their words and making them unsure of themselves. It was one more way she was able to enjoy her dominance over them.

And Blake, being so completely new to the game, was even more fun to play with because he didn’t seem to know that she was only teasing him—that there was no way he’d ever win with her, no way he’d ever not be punished for an infraction, no matter how hard he tried to be good.

If he was always good, it ruined the fun, now didn’t it?

***

Buy the trilogy set now: Amazon, Smashwords, B&N

–
Sexily *Evers* After… ShoshannaEvers.com
Amazon Erotica Bestselling Author

Titles on Amazon
Titles on Nook
Titles on Ellora’s Cave
How to Write Hot Sex
Agony/Ecstasy (anthology, Berkley Heat)
Best Bondage Erotica 2012, Cleis Press

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Have you had the chance to check out my latest release, Fighting for Control?

I had the best time paddling in the shallow end of the BDSM pool with this one! And the reviewers seem to enjoy it, too. Sizzling Hot Book Reviews gave 4 hearts, and BDSM Book Reviews gave it 4 out of 5 paddles! (I won’t tell you which award I enjoyed more, hahaha!) Here’s a little teaser for your pleasure:

Excerpt

“What type of scene would you prefer?” Mistress Marla had led her to a private sitting room where she invited Lori to sit in one of the upholstered chairs.

“I’m still not sure this is for me.” Lori crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap.

Mistress Marla sat opposite her. Wearing a purple latex cat suit, Mistress curled her legs into the seat and rested her elbows on the arms of her chair. “Are you always this dishonest with yourself about your body’s needs?”

Lori blinked. That was some salesmanship, to call a potential client a liar. She didn’t need to explain herself, or her sexual decisions, to anyone. “Look, I realize this sort of thing appeals to a large number of people, but I’m not one of them. I’m capable of enjoying sex without playing games.”

“Did anything you saw here tonight look like a game? Did those marks left by whips look pretend? Was anyone faking an orgasm to please his master?” Her facial expressions hadn’t changed from professionally pleasant, but Marla’s tone told Lori she had crossed a line.

“I said that wrong. But it doesn’t change the fact I can’t see myself doing those things.”

“I think you can. I think you do see it in your mind right now, and the excitement it brings you is palpable. When you go home tonight and take out your vibrator, which of those scenes will you imagine first?”

Lori squirmed. But odds were most of the people who entered a club like this would have to be aroused in some way by what they saw. How could they not?

Mistress continued. “While some come here strictly for the voyeuristic and exhibitionist aspect of their sexual needs, for most of these people, the roles you saw them in don’t end when they walk out the door.”

She thought back to her discussion with Marc and Brad. About letting a man take control of an entire evening, from dinner until breakfast, trusting him to be able to meet her needs without asking. And the reverse, her wanting to do what she knew would please him. Experiencing happiness because she knew he was happy with her. Being turned on because he was turned on by her.

Was it really possible? Was it possible for her? She tiptoed into the deeper parts of her being and asked if she had ever met a man whose happiness was more important than her own. And didn’t like what she found. She looked at the wood trim on the arm of her chair and spoke softly. “I think, maybe, I’m too selfish to please someone. I mean, sure, I like giving blow jobs sometimes, or playing with his balls if he likes that. I’m just too old, maybe, to not wonder what’s in it for me.”

Her words spilled out in a rush. “You know, I’m really more focused on how it’s going to end for me. Men always come. It’s a given. They don’t even have to take off their pants. So I just focus on what feels good to me. No one has ever complained or anything, and they always come back for more, so I can’t be all that bad in bed. It’s these two guys at work that pushed me into this, got me all confused. They think I’m not capable of letting a man lead. Let someone else have a little control. But I don’t see where whips and chains have anything to do with making love.”

~*~

Need more? You can buy it at Ellora’s Cave, on Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

One of the questions people like to ask writers – along with “Are you published?” and “Are you crazy?” – is “Where do your ideas come from?” (If this is a prelude to the person wanting to give – or sell me – his particular idea, I tend to sidle away).

Like most writers, once I’ve been pulled away from my computer, I love to talk. I also love to satisfy people’s curiosity. Alas, it’s often difficult to provide a neat and precise answer regarding the inspiration for a particular story. Once in a while, however, the universe comes through with a gift. Such is the source of my title for my first venture in independent publishing – Emergency Ex.

I was on a train in Northern England when I happened to look across the aisle at the window opposite me. There, in large letters were the words “Emergency Ex.” A metaphorical lightbulb went on above my head and I instantly broke into a huge grin. An Emergency Ex. What exactly would an Emergency Ex be? Felt like the start of a mystery to solve. Questions began to scroll through my mind.

Now I know that in fact my gift from the universe came about because two letters – “it” – were missing from the word “Exit”. However, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I didn’t fret over the missing “it” – just thanked whatever force had removed them and delayed replacing them.

For me, Emergency Ex turned out to be a role two BFFs (with benefits) had been playing in each other’s lives for several years – an exchange that was far from equal. Here’s the blurb and an excerpt:

Are you an Emergency Ex? How far would you go for the best friend you happen to be in love with? If he gets in a sticky situation with another woman, would you bail him out by pretending to be his angry ex – and then spend the night in his arms?

Rennie, a.k.a. Emergency Ex, is all set to celebrate her thirtieth birthday with Alec – only he stands her up and then needs her services. Vowing it’s the farewell performance for Emergency Ex and the end of an era with Alec, Rennie comes through one more time. Then, after the hottest of nights, she storms out of his life.

What a time for Alec to realize he’s in love with her.

—————————————————————————————————-

From Emergency Ex, © 2012 by Mardi Ballou.

The call came just when Rennie, lunching at her desk, prepared to dig into her Deluxe Veggie Delite salad. She had to scrimp on calories so she could indulge that night at Bistro Bacchanalia. After all, since Alec was treating and he enjoyed seeing his date enjoy her food . . .

She put down her fork and, despite the toll of warning bells in her belly, answered. “I’m really psyched. What time is our reservation for Bistro Bacchanalia?”

“Rennie, I hate to tell you this.”

Chilly little bumps erupted along her arms, spine and the back of her neck. I bet I’m going to hate hearing it also. “You couldn’t get a reservation?” Not a big deal. Not like there weren’t tons of other great restaurants in San Francisco. They could always go to Bistro Bacchanalia some other time.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, no. Uh, I totally forgot. Already had a must-do on the books for tonight.”

“You did?” Did he know his voice got muzzy when he lied?

“Wasn’t thinking clearly last night, what with all the drama . . .”

At least that was the truth. A jagged hot coal took residence in Rennie’s gut and sent up geysers of discomfort and worse. “Are you thinking clearly now?”

“Heh, heh.” His trademark unfunny laugh. Why exactly was she so crazy about him?

“Bottom line, Alec? I don’t have much time.” Now who was lying? She had all the time in the world for Alec now that she wouldn’t be meeting him that night. Very soon she’d need to take a look at what was wrong with that picture.

“We’ll make it another time, Rennie. Real soon.”

Or not, depending on how long it would take for tonight’s distraction to fall from favor. Her internal red flags went manic. “Sure, Alec.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Usually she was quick to let him off the hook, but not this time. As the worm squirms . . . “This was important to me. I was counting on you.”

“I know, babe, but it’s unavoidable. Got my signals crossed. Won’t happen again.” Alec was especially ineffective at trying to sound sincere.

“Really?”

“Gotta go. I knew you’d understand.”

She so didn’t.

“Hasta la vista, babe.”

Whatever.

Rennie put down the phone and started chewing on a slice of steamed okra, only to fling away her fork and toss the Styrofoam container. She hated okra. Heck, if she wasn’t going to have a luscious Bistro Bacchanalia dinner, she’d at least do better for her lunch. She phoned in an order for fig-and-goat-cheese thin-crust pizza. She might even treat herself to dessert.

Next she’d fix what was broken between her and her best friend. Long overdue. She rose from her desk to pace while she waited for the pizza delivery. So Alec was black-haired, gray-eyed gorgeous. Always looked as if he needed a shave. A shade over six hot, buff feet. But heck, she wasn’t shallow. His being hot wouldn’t have cut it if he didn’t have everything in common with her. They loved the same everything. He was nice to children and small and large animals, and he recycled.

In tender mode, he could make her weep with joy. Even more, though, he could read her mind – when he cared to expend the energy. Which wasn’t often. Didn’t have to be often. Maybe it did. Or maybe it was time for her to update her wish list.

Ironic, wasn’t it? In business, Rennie was regarded as tough but fair. Maybe tougher than fairer, which suited her just fine. Making her first million before her thirtieth birthday had been an early goal, one she accomplished with ease before her twenty-fifth. But when it came to Alec Tate, her slogan could have been, “I live to serve”.

Now her thirtieth birthday was looming close – days away. Tonight’s dinner was supposed to be part of how they’d celebrate the big day together, but her gut screamed that he’d disappoint her again. Maybe it was time to change the dynamic once and for all. Maybe it was time to show Alec Tate exactly whom he was messing with – whom he would soon no longer mess with if he didn’t clean up his act and change.

—————————————————————————————————-

Right now, Emergency Ex is still a WIP (work in progress) – coming soon. Once Emergency Ex is out there, I’d love feedback on this story – my first as an independent publisher. I chose my editor and cover artist – what an amazing new experience.

For up to minute info, please check www.MardiBallou.com.

Thanks so much!
– Mardi

Not in my stories lately, that’s for sure. Well, okay, there’s some love in them, but for the past month or so I’ve been working almost exclusively on young adult stories. Those have a smidgen of romance, but not nearly as much as my romances do. And, of course, no sex. (Note that I have nothing against sex in young adult novels, as long as it isn’t a high heat level; I just prefer not to put much of it in my own books.)

I really haven’t been feeling the romance lately. I’m plotting a couple of new novellas that I plan to start writing soon, but for the most part my brain isn’t cooperating with the idea of anything romantic.

Which is kind of unfortunate, with Valentine’s Day a week from today…

The one romance I have worked on lately, one I had a lot of fun with, is a Valentine’s story for MLR Press. It’s a sweet M/M romance and introduces two characters whom I think we’ll be seeing more of because they’re so much fun to write. Braden Porter grew up in the rural town of Anglesey, Maine, affectionately known to the population as “East Armpit” in honor of the smell from the paper mill in the next town. As an adult, Braden didn’t see the need to leave town, where he works as a tow truck driver and hides the fact that he’s gay.

Braden doesn’t plan to find Mr. Right in his hometown; as far as he knows, he’s the only gay guy there. When someone starts sneaking chocolate kisses into the cab of Braden’s tow truck, he figures it has to be either a joke or a woman. In his fantasies, it would be Vince Gutierrez, a local mechanic whom Braden’s been lusting after for months, but fantasies don’t come true.

Or do they?

I grew up in Maine, went to college in a town like Anglesey, and have lived in other, similar towns, where I’ve known people like Braden and the other characters who appear in the story. Creating the town and the characters was incredibly fun, and I love Braden’s voice. (Admittedly, I may be a bit biased.) I’m planning at least one more story with Braden and Vince–and I can guarantee the next one won’t be so sweet.

The story, “A Little Kiss” will be released on Valentine’s Day from MLR Press, along with Valentine’s stories from several awesome authors including fellow FABber Lex Valentine.

A few months ago, I did a little experiment in self-publishing and released a short story called The Secrets of Dreams.

It was great fun and the story has done well, but not nearly as well as I expected. A lot of that had to do with the fact that prior to The Secrets of Dreams, I put out a free read on Smashwords and the response was overwhelming. Within a week, I had over 500 downloads and people continue to read that free story now even though it has been out since July. I just kind of assumed that the response would be somewhat the same for a 0.99 cent story, that mysterious and wonderful readers from all over the world would just materialize out of the air and buy my book.

I was very wrong.

I never fully appreciated until that moment how much my publisher does for me behind the scenes. Simply by being published with them, I am guaranteed readers because people like their brand and come back again and again to buy more books. And that’s the least of it. They have a marketing plan, a list of reviewers, hundreds of ways to get new books in front of readers.

What I didn’t realize was how much work I needed to put into the marketing and publicity. It is a huge job and it requires a plan. It is immensely time consuming and unfortunately, time is not something I have a lot of. I’m also not very fond of self-publicizing. I can’t seem to bring myself to Tweet advertisements over and over and over again. I just feel silly doing it. Though I need to get over that. No one is going to read what they don’t know about.

Knowing what I know now, I don’t know if I will undertake a self-publishing project again. It was a great experience and I did learn a lot and I LOVE the story, but I think that I’d rather have someone else do the bulk of the post- publishing work for me. That way I can concentrate on what I truly love: writing new stories.

Have any of you self-published? How was your experience? Any tips you’d like to share?

Website – Blog - Twitter – Facebook – Bookshelf

Happy New Year!

Are you one of those who marks the New Year with a bunch of resolutions? If so, do you keep those resolutions or abandon them or maybe just live up to them part way? I need to confess – I make resolutions. Actually, I make the same ones every year because I have the same ones to make every year. Lose weight. Clean the garage. Oh well, at least I’m consistent. It may be a new year, but I’m dealing with the same old stuff.

Like many of us are.

Lisa and Jack, the heroine and hero of Déjà Brew, my recently released contemporary novella from Ellora’s Cave, are dealing with so much old stuff that their relationship is at risk. But unlike the rest of us, they get the chance to revisit some key moments in their past when they sample a drink called Déjà Brew. Maybe getting another look at the past will help with the present – or maybe it will break them up.

If you had the chance to sample Déjà Brew and revisit the past, would you take the drink or run, not walk?

Here’s an excerpt to show how Jack and Lisa reacted:

——————————————————————————————–
With far greater energy than she’d demonstrated before, Dora bustled to the kitchen to fetch Déjà Brew. While Jack prepared himself to experience the product they’d been pursuing for weeks, he glanced over at his partner, who was perusing notes and frowning. God, she was still so beautiful, more beautiful than when they’d first fallen in love. With her shiny dark hair that swung like a silken curtain whenever she moved her head, her big green eyes, sculpted features and her full, kissable mouth, she personified his fantasy of a goddess. Despite her reliance on power suits to tame her curves, Lisa radiated feminine voluptuousness. As always, his cock registered her presence, and even after they’d been together seven years, the moment he saw her, he wanted her.

If only that could be enough.

If only he could convince her she had nothing more to prove to him or his family about her business prowess. When she signed with them, she’d sworn to increase their profits and grow the business in new directions. Over the past seven years, she’d more than fulfilled her promise. He’d told her, with increasing urgency, that she could ease back. Should ease back, focus on their personal life. But lately she’d become more and more obsessed, taking work home and often spending half the night in front of her laptop while Jack prowled their bedroom floor.

He didn’t want to give up on them, but if he couldn’t convince Lisa they needed to change pronto, they’d be over. He’d move out. He’d had enough of workaholism in his family. No matter how much he loved Lisa, he would not share his life with a woman whose work meant more to her than he did. He refused to be a distant second—even for her.

Dora returned with a tray bearing a creamy-white mug. “Here’s your Déjà Brew.” She handed him the cup. The dark brown liquid inside resembled strong tea and smelled like fermented trash. They’d need to do something about the unappealing aroma.

Lisa frowned at Jack and pinched her nose. The smell got to her too. “Is there anything else we should know before Jack drinks?” Good to know she was worried, though he suspected her frown came more from worry about the bottom line than concern about his welfare.

“Jack will be returning to a time in his past, one that has a strong connection with the present,” Dora said. “This may distress him, it may make him happy, or it could have any of an infinite number of effects on him. He might have a strong physical or even sexual reaction. Just as it says in the data.”

Lisa blushed, which set Jack’s cock to twitching. She rarely blushed these days—not like when they’d first gotten together. He loved how the spots of red brightened her face, making her eyes glitter. He even got a kick out of her dislike of blushing—perverse as that made him sound. “I read it. What I meant was, should Jack continue to sit? Should he lie down after he drinks? Is he at any risk, given that he hasn’t prepared.”

Dora’s eyes gleamed with some inscrutable emotion. “He’ll assume a position that’s comfortable. Don’t worry. He won’t be in any distress from the drink. The only potential problems will come about when he reacts to the memories he relives. That’s where I come in. As his guide, I’ll be able to intervene if needed.”

The older woman looked at both of them as if to ask if they had any other questions. They didn’t. Jack wanted to get moving so they could be on the other side of this experience. Not that he was nervous. Definitely curious. Maybe a tad…anxious.

Dora squeezed his hand and inclined her head encouragingly. “With this drink I give to thee,” she recited, “revisit the optimum moment and blessed be.”

Despite himself, Jack shivered and his fine hairs stood on end as if electrified. The witch’s words resonated around him, seeming to have taken on a life of their own.

Lisa leapt up from her chair and opened her mouth wide, looking determined to stop him. He took the mug in both hands and, despite a momentary vision of spouting claws and hairy palms, brought it to his lips.

“Jackson—” Lisa never called him by his full name. Determined to seal off any chance to back out, he tipped the cup and allowed the liquid to fill his mouth.
——————————————————————————————–

To find out more about what Jack and Lisa experience, please check out Déjà Brew, available from Ellora’s Cave http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9835-deja-brew.aspx. Please also visit my website http://www.MardiBallou.com.

—Mardi

Okay, so we’re a couple days into the new year now, but it’s my first FAB post of the new year so it’s my first chance to wish all of you the best for 2012. I have a bunch of writing-related goals this year; some are easy, some are challenging, and some are “yeah, I can only wish”. But hopefully I’ll meet them all.

Meanwhile, I have a few releases scheduled already for 2012, and the first one is coming up this Friday from MLR Press! You may remember me talking about my vegan werewolf, Kyle Slidell, and his pack-Alpha mate Tobias Rogan? They showed up in the MLR Press Story-a-Day holiday event, with the short story Tofurkey and Yams which released December 26. And now they’re back in Veggie Burgers to Go, the second novel in the Real Werewolves Don’t Eat Meat series.

This wasn’t an easy book to write. As far as the actual writing went, it wasn’t too bad; I had notes left from Salad on the Side, the first book in the series, and Kyle is the perfect narrator from an author’s point of view. When I write his books, I’m pretty much just taking dictation from him.

In Salad on the Side, while there’s definitely humor, there are also some dark events, including Kyle’s violent change into a werewolf when he’s attacked by one of the members of Tobias’s pack. In Veggie Burgers to Go, there’s more darkness than in the first book, and more death. And that’s all I’m going to say, because I don’t want to include spoilers.

But there are also happy times between Kyle and Tobias, some hot sex, and the love that brought them together in the first place.

According to the famous song, there’s no place like home for the holidays. Home is one of those emotionally-laden words that instantly conjures up deeply-rooted images for most of us. That said, everyone has a unique notion of home—the place where you find your family, your friends or some other combination of people and memories. For my husband and me, home for the holidays means leaving our home base in the San Francisco BayArea to fly to Yorkshire in England, where it’s cold and dark—to be with the branch of our family in that part of the world. What does home for the holidays mean to you?

For Rafe McMaster in Sherry Amor, this year, after his break-up with his fiancee, the prospect of dealing with his family’s concern and caring makes their New York home the last place he wants to be for the holidays. The notion of Christmas with his big, loving clan sends him fleeing to Spain. Home for Elena Sandoval is Seville—the only place she’d ever consider spending the holidays. Stuck in New York mere days before Christmas, she can’t wait to get on the plane. Her lover, Francisco Reyes, is going home with her—only he’s bringing along a secret he knows would shatter her holiday joy.

Here’s an excerpt from Sherry Amor.

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On a frosty New York night less than a week before Christmas, people hungry for a break from city stress filled the trendy Café Espana. Actually, overfilled. People stuck in the long line outside glared with envy at those who lingered at tables or competed for attention at the bar.

“Let’s finish our drinks and get out of here,” Rafe McMaster muttered to his brother Nate. Though he realized the people freezing outside thought he was lucky, he knew different. Luck was a commodity in short supply.

“What’s the rush?” Nate asked. “Got any place better to be?”

Rafe scowled. “Gotta pack my gear. Early morning flight.”

“Where’re you off to this time?”

“Gig in sunny Spain. That’s why I wanted to meet here. Figured it would get me psyched.”

“Has it?”

The sour expression on Rafe’s face must have been enough answer to that stupid question. What had Rafe been thinking to drag his brother out for a drink tonight?

Nate whistled. “Working this close to Christmas? I can see how thrilled you are. Maybe you can get out of it.”

Rafe shrugged. “Client wants the filming done now. It’s an infomercial-type ad he wants me to turn into high art.”

“I thought you decided to keep away from that stuff. Devote yourself to your art.”

Rafe chose to ignore the sarcasm in his brother’s voice. “Most of the time. But I’m short on cash, which makes this deal look real good. I’ll work one day and make enough to fund my own projects for a month.”

Though Nate looked skeptical, he raised his glass. “Here’s to paying the bills—and to new starts. How’s your love life?”

“Don’t go there.” A month after Rafe and his ex-fiancée Terri had called it quits, all he wanted was to be left alone. Every member of his big Irish family, on the other hand, appeared committed to not to letting that happen.

Seductive flamenco music drowned out whatever response Nate was about to make. Rafe found himself moving to the infectious beat, a momentary distraction from the gloom that had dogged him since Terri. . .  Just then a man and a woman sprang up in a spontaneous dance. Conversations stopped. All eyes were riveted on the gorgeous couple. He had to clamp himself to his chair to keep from leaping up and joining them. If only he had his camera. . .

The music was incandescent magic, but what really grabbed him and wouldn’t let go was the woman. Tall with rounded breasts and hips his fingers ached to touch. She wore her dark chestnut hair in a traditional bun gracing her long neck. Dark eyes flashed fire and promised ecstasy and agony, full red lips, perfect nose and chin. Hell, every man in the place had to want her, had to be jealous of her partner. Bewitched, Rafe stopped thinking and gave himself up to pure sensation. He squirmed, painfully aware of an inconvenient hard-on—and the way the dancer had grabbed hold of his soul.

* * * * *

The music, always the passion of the music. The music compensated for so much that had gone wrong. When she danced, Elena Sandoval could imagine herself home, far from this cold, foreign place. Home, where she longed to be at this most beloved time of the year. She stamped her feet and threw her head back in time to the reverberating beat, reveling in each click of her heels. For the first time since arriving in New York, she felt warm and alive. Gracias a Dios, just one more night until she returned home.
She locked eyes with her dance partner, the man who’d brought her to New York, Francisco Reyes. Her partner in work and play, her lover.

So caught up in the music and the dance were they both that Elena had just about forgotten where they were until an explosion of applause burst her dream bubble. Following Francisco’s lead, she nodded to their impromptu audience and let him whisk her back to their awaiting friends at a crowded table.

“A fitting prelude for making love tonight, mi amor,” Francisco murmured so only she could hear.

She flashed a sardonic smile. “Maybe, but only because we are going home tomorrow. If we had to stay in New York any longer, you’d be sleeping with your friends’ dogs.” She sat down and turned her face from Francisco.

“Perfect. You two must dance together again.” Lorenzo, their New York business partner, toasted them both.

“Back home in Sevilla. That’s the only place we will dance.” Elena took a sip of her drink.

“Our star has grown homesick,” Francisco said.

She swallowed her sherry and cast a sour look in his direction. “Homesick would be an improvement. Ay, Dios, why didn’t you tell me how unsympathetic this place is.”

“Unsympathetic? Hardly. Look at this wonderful new bistro, opened a scarce few weeks ago, just in time to welcome you.” Lorenzo’s gesture encompassed the large room and the crowd. “And, after your dance, I wager there are plenty who would be more than happy to proffer a very personal welcome. Let’s make sure to extend that interest to Sherry Amor.”

Everyone at the table laughed before moving on to other topics. Other dancers rose to take the floor and the spotlight. The general consensus was that none came close to the perfection of Elena and Francisco.

Perfection. What a joke on him, on all of them. Francisco would pay dearly for his energetic display. He’d had to dredge up the strength and will to dance with Elena, and he’d carried it off. The triumph of modern medicine. Too bad it had such finite limits.

He didn’t want to think about this right now, tonight, when he was with Elena in this glittering place, enjoying good friends and food—pleasures he’d so often taken for granted. Pleasures like being with Elena.

In the coming days, the memory of tonight would keep him warm, bring him comfort and courage. Would that the same memory could also comfort and encourage Elena in the harsher times to come.

Basta! No more maudlin thoughts. . .

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I hope that you’ll be home, whatever that means to you, for the holidays this year. During this busy time, if you can take a short break to curl up with a hot holiday tale, I hope you’ll choose to read Rafe, Elena and Francisco’s story. Sherry Amor is available from Ellora’s Cave  and also from Amazon.  Please take a moment to “like” my book—and to send me your thoughts about this story.

Please also visit my website MardiBallou.com and share your own holiday story.

Wishing you the warmest and happiest of holidays—
–Mardi