Guest blogging at Victoria J's

Victoria Janssen, fellow girl-on-girl avenger and totally blammo author of Harlequin Spice books like this:

And THIS (OMG, holy crapping damn this cover is HOT!!!):

...has been kind enough to invite me to guest blog over in her neck of the woods. Topic du jour: Writing f/f and f/f/m for the female gaze--a subject very dear to me and one that doesn't get addressed enough. The post goes live tomorrow (Friday, August 28), and I hope you all will come by to check it out and share your thoughts on how you think authors get it right, and how you think they get it so very, very wrong.

In other news, I spent the day moving kitchen stuff and shopping with my friend, trying to get her properly set up in her new digs. And miracle of miracles, the ex phoned to say he'd like the kids this weekend. He's been working 12 hour shifts, 7 days a week for about a month, so they've seen him for all of one afternoon since my friend and her kid moved in here the last week of July.

So guess what? I have the whole house to myself for two whole days. I ought to be able to get everything clean that fell to chaos over the last five weeks, watch some porn, and have the time and privacy to drill that hole in my skull to let the pressure out. Now where did I put the masonary bits...?

Hugs. :)

Another Contest!

I'm over at the SamhainCafe today, posting some excerpts for my print release, Healer's Touch, and decided to run another contest. Because I'm just that magnanimous. :) This is a special, extra contest in honor of SamhainCafe's print promo day, but anyone can enter.

Same prize--a signed copy of Healer's Touch.

Same rules--come up with a caption for the cover (extra points for translating it into lolcatspeak), the funnier the better. And this time, just for fun, I'm going to pick the most lewd, sexually groan-worthy one of the bunch. So do your worst--and dirtiest. Enter as often as you like.

Here's the blurb once more for inspiration:

She’s determined to break his eight centuries of celibacy—at any cost!

Darjhian healer Aru has been in exile for eight hundred years, barred from the Deathless Land and parted from his wife. Now fallen from grace and no longer immortal, he can never return to her.

Yet he cleaves to his marriage vow and holds himself apart from everyone—especially Viera, the former prostitute whose sexual energy provides the power needed for his healing work. She presents a temptation he must constantly hold at bay if he’s to keep to his vow.

Viera isn’t interested in fighting temptation. She wants Aru. He wants her. What could be simpler? After three frustrating months working with him, her need for him has reached the breaking point. He claims he can never touch a woman again, but Viera isn’t the type to take no for an answer.

Over four glorious nights, she shows Aru everything he’s denied himself for eight centuries. But a shadow hangs over their passion. Aru is keeping secrets about the nature of his mortality. And now he faces a terrible choice…

Break Viera’s heart, or risk destroying her with the knowledge of what he truly is.

Product Warnings

This title contains: graphic sex, including anal sex, f/f and m/f/f; bad language; inappropriate use of a kitchen work surface; flagrant tickling of ivory; and a wagon-load of good, old-fashioned voyeurism.

Cover Art Squee!!

Well, here it is, in all its nekkid glory: the cover for my July release from Samhain, The Chancellor's Bride. If there's one thing that can be said for historical fantasy, it's that stock photos with, you know, clothes suitable to the period are hard to come by, resulting in an abundance of cover heroes and heroines strutting around in their birthday suits. And you won't hear me complaining about it, either...

Those of you who have read Bound by Steel may recognize the two lovely gentlemen in the blurb below--Chancellor Collin and his lover-cum-manservant, Harral. The moment I wrote their characters, I knew I had to give them their own story--and a woman they could both love to bits.

Her love for two men could save their future. Her secrets could destroy them all.

Recently re-elected Chancellor Collin sur-Gaerig is a rising star on the political scene, and everyone expects he’ll soon be rewarded with an estate and title. He also has a dirty little secret: he’s in love with his manservant, Harral. If anyone—especially the wife he’s expected to take—discovers their affair, all his aspirations will go up in smoke.

The mysterious woman he finds lying half-dead in the street is strong, beautiful, independent…and aroused when she catches him and Harral in a compromising position. As Aelis worms her way past their closely guarded defenses and into their bed, they realize she’s the perfect match for both of them.

But Aelis has a secret of her own, an ex-lover’s blackmail scheme that could get them all killed. To save the men she’s come to love, she’s willing to sacrifice her own happiness, maybe even her life.

Collin’s not about to let that happen. For the first time in his life, he’s willing to risk it all in order to have it all. Even if it means he could lose the man he’s loved for years—and the woman they both want to love forever.

Warning: This book contains explicit sex, including m/m and m/m/f; violence; bad language; financial irregularities; uneaten dessert; gratuitous invocation of various deities; and breakfast-table hijinks you’re not likely to witness at your neighborhood IHOP.

For those of you scandalized by the idea of a dessert going to waste, I'm just going to apologize and say the plot demanded it. I can't be held responsible. The muse made me do it.

If you all would like to read an excerpt, I have one up here--and it should be safe even for my mom to read. I'll be posting some steamier stuff as the release date gets closer, along with the obligatory contest wherein I demand commenters say embarrassing things in lolcatspeak for a chance to win a copy.

For now, I'm just going to sit back and stare at the unbelievably sexy curve of that woman's spine, and ponder how a man's armpit can get me all hot and bothered...

A teeny update

First off, I'm in the midst of second round edits on Chancellor's Bride, and I've come to a shameful realization. I am addicted to adverbs. No, not the standard -ly adverbs that are the bane of so many writers' existence. Nope, I'm a slave to "up", "down", and "back". I also seem to have an unhealthy attachment to the word "so" in all its forms. Luckily, my editor Bethany is there with a huge vial of verbal methodone to help me kick the habit, and I think my writing is a lot stronger for her ruthless but fair application of the dreaded red pen.

Second, I just got the cover art comp for C'sB, and damn! I can't show you all until Crissy approves the final version, but holy crapweasels, it is smokin'! I can't gush enough about Mandy Roth AKA Natalie Winters, who also did the cover for Bound by Steel. That woman definitely knows sexy.

Third, I am currently kind of stymied concerning the tagline for the book--the one or two sentences that encapsulate the story. I hammered one out that wasn't precisely spectacular, and the blurb editor came back with a second option that I'm also not in love with. I mean, it's good, but I don't want to marry it or anything. Perhaps I should come up with a few possibilities and let you guys vote for which one you like best, or even make suggestions on how to improve it? I could make a contest out of it or something...

Lastly, I had a nice IM chat with Bethany last night, and was reminded yet again that she's the absolute best, most amazingly supportive editor evah!!!1! I honestly could not ask for anyone more enthusiastic about my work, and the fact that she's been willing to take chances on stuff other editors might not touch with a ten-foot pole just makes me feel so very fortunate to have her. And all I have to do to keep her happy is not kill off any small, furry animals. So I just want to give her a shout-out here: Bethany Morgan, you're my hero. :)

Smokin' Hot!!1!!

Okay, it's finally been approved by those in power, and I'm now free to post it. Voila!

<===Lianon, drool, drool.

<===Kaela, mmmm, yummy....

<===Gil, oh swoon!

Told you all it was smokin' hot!

To celebrate this auspicious occasion, I shall treat you all to a snippet. A wee one, mind, with no actual smexing, because despite my delight over this wonderful cover, I am feeling a tad contrary today. And although my mood has nothing to do with you guys, I have no qualms about taking it out on everyone, lol!

Kaela sat huddled in the water, hugging her up-drawn knees. She looked so fragile, so lost, it made Lianon’s heart ache. “Let me help you with your hair?”

“All right.”

Lianon knelt beside the tub, just at Kaela’s shoulder. Reaching for the ewer, she filled it with steaming bathwater and poured it over Kaela’s unbound hair. The heavy black curtain plastered itself to her shoulders and back.

“Lean your head back.”

Kaela’s neck arched, the fine cords standing out. Her collarbones jutted, and Lianon imagined her mouth on them, her tongue dipping into the hollows. The girl’s knees were pressed tight against her breasts, but that only enhanced her cleavage. Lianon felt a familiar heaviness settle between her legs, but forced her eyes from the sight, and her mind from thoughts she knew Kaela would not be ready to acknowledge.

Gingerly, taking care not to startle her, Lianon washed Kaela’s hair and back, her hands skimming gently over the marks of her experience with sur-Marus. As she worked, the girl began at last to relax. The cooling water raised gooseflesh on the parts of her above the surface, and she hunkered deeper down. When Lianon finished with her hair, Kaela lay back, closing her eyes and resting the base of her skull on the contoured edge of the tub. Her crossed arms covered her breasts, but one pink nipple peeked from the crook of her elbow. Lianon’s eyes fastened on it as her belly coiled and tightened.

Gods, what was she doing? Her feelings were premature, to say the least. Even if she was able to guide Kaela toward an acceptance of her body and her sexuality, even if she helped her get past the rape, there was no guarantee that the girl would be remotely interested in any kind of liaison with another woman. If Lianon wasn’t careful, she’d end up with a broken heart.

“Hungry?” Lianon asked, flinching inwardly as her body responded involuntarily to the subtext of the word. Gods, she was hungry. Ravenous.

“Mmm,” Kaela sighed, smiling. “Starving.”

Lianon grabbed the tray and headed into the main room, where padded chairs and a settee would offer more comfort than the kitchen, and where there was no beautiful, naked woman in a bathtub to tempt her. She set their meal down on the low table and continued on into Kaela’s room. “I’ll bring you your shift and robe,” she called over her shoulder.

When she returned to the kitchen, it was to see Kaela wrapped in linen, one foot propped on a chair, drying her calf with a corner of the towel. Her limbs were displayed in all their contoured glory, her sleek, black hair seeming to caress her shoulders and upper arms. As Lianon stood there, transfixed with desire, the towel slipped loose and Kaela scrambled to retrieve it. Her creamy skin was flushed pink from the bath, and trails of water from her hair wove their way down her naked torso. She straightened, staring in horror at Lianon, clutching the damp linen to herself as her face went red. With a start, Lianon realized the girl wasn’t trying to cover her breasts so much as the scar above them.

“Don’t look. Please,” Kaela whispered, her chin starting to go wobbly.

Lianon turned her back, as much to dash the tears from her own eyes as to give the girl her privacy. The look on Kaela’s face hadn’t been the expression of violated modesty you’d expect in a young woman caught without clothes. It was a profound horror at being seen at all. And how could Lianon blame her? Kaela bore the marks of sur-Marus’ brutality all over her body, from the crescent-shaped bite-marks he’d put on her back and shoulders, to the scars on her face and chest from his bodyguard’s dagger. She didn’t see her body as a thing of beauty or a source of pleasure and comfort. To her, it was a constant reminder of an event she had to get past, if she was ever to be happy.

“I’m sorry,” Kaela whispered, clearly miserable. “I’m sorry.”

Lianon turned back to find Kaela modestly wrapped in her towel, hugging herself. “I’m sorry, Kaela. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that…”

Reaching up to tug a sopping lock of hair over the scar on her cheek, Kaela looked away, blinking frantically. “I know. You don’t have to tell me how ugly I am.”

Lianon swallowed a startled laugh, her eyes stinging. She shook her head, bemused. “What are you talking about? You’re beautiful… Beautiful.”

Okay, that's enough of that! You want more, you'll have to catch me in a more agreeable humor, lol! :D

The Waiting is the Hardest Part...

Warning: huge, whiney, complainy post ahead...

Ever have one of those days where it just feels like you're waiting and waiting and waiting? For me, that day is today.

Waiting on that first royalty statement to find out how Healer's Touch did in its release month. Will it sell better than Crossing Swords did? I have to assume so, since it actually made the top ten at MBaM for almost a day, yay! Will Crossing Swords experience a surge in sales this month due to Healer's' release?

Waiting on final approval for the cover for Bound by Steel, which is so smokin' hot as is that I can only imagine how scorching it will be if it's undergoing a face-lift.

Waiting for reviewers to do their thing. I only wish they were all as flattering as Madame Butterfly was in her haste to read and lavish praise on Healer's Touch. At the same time, dreading the moment when those reviews go up, on the chance that they are scathing, or worse, tepid.

Waiting for my stepson and his friends to go home so I can have my house back. You have no idea what it's like to have four 21-year-olds, three kids and two adults living in a 1200 square foot, three bedroom, 1 1/2 bath house with no basement.

Waiting for my kids to go back to school so I can actually write.

Waiting for October, when Bound by Steel releases. At the same time, dreading October because I promised my editor I would have Chancellor's Bride finished and in her hot little hand by Hallowe'en.

Waiting for the rain to stop and the sun come back. Please, please come back, summer.

Waiting for customers to walk in the door. I mean, it's the last dang Wednesday of the month (otherwise known as "Welfare Wednesday"), the day everyone's government money comes in: GST rebates and child tax benefits and guaranteed income supplements and welfare cheques and pension cheques and all that, and usually it's so busy in here I can't even check my email. But today, for some reason, I have had two--count 'em--two tables since I came in at 11. It is now 1:30.

Waiting waiting waiting for the other waitress to get here at 5 so I can go home. And wait some more.

The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that the weather is to blame for my discontent. It's been pouring rain and cold (12C) all week--we even had hail, ffs. I guess we already had our summer on the North Island, and it was all of three and a half weeks long.

*sigh*

It's Up!

For those of you who are paying attention (few and deeply disturbed though you might be), you will have noticed that the cover for my next novel, Healer's Touch, has been approved and is up on Samhain's coming soon page, yay! It is also in its pace of honor, in the right hand margin yonder. ===>

I am really, really pleased with this cover. There were so very many ways the artist could have gotten it unbearably wrong--always the case when one of the characters is not quite human--but Chistine Clavel managed to capture, almost in one pass, the feel of this novel and the look of the characters. She is totally my hero.

So to give you all a hint of what this story is about, I'm going to post an excerpt--not from Healer's Touch, but from Crossing Swords, where Viera and Aru make their first appearance. This is the scene that made it impossible for me not to write their story:

~

Aru let the candles gutter and the fire burn low. He didn’t need the light, and the cold had no power to touch him. He sat for a long time, trying to summon an image of Zharina’s face, but each time, his wife’s beloved features faded as if in a mist, to be overlaid by those of the whore Viera.

In the eighteen years since his fall, Aru had laid his hands on many Andun—both the injured and the surrogates who were sometimes necessary to heal them. He had never encountered anyone as…ardent as this woman. As open and uncomplicated in her responses. When he’d first placed his palm on her belly, he’d felt a crackling surge of power leap from her flesh and into his, so strong it almost made him afraid. He had done more with that power tonight than he would have thought possible.

And now, he could not banish her from his mind.

As if of its own volition, his hand reached out to hover in the air above her sleeping form. His eyes roamed across her slumbering features—the softly rounded cheek, the full, pink lips, the delicate, intricate shell of her ear. One arm was bent, her head pillowed on it. The other lay on Lianon’s hip as if reaching for comfort. The sheet was pulled taut across Viera’s full breasts, and the growing chill in the room had affected them in predictable fashion. Her nipples thrust up against the linen as if inviting his touch. He resisted, as he must.

Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on something else, but he should have known better. Cut off from physical sight, his inner awareness sharpened, yearning toward her. His hand still hovered inches from her skin, but now his consciousness was descending even closer, skimming over her sleeping form. The fingers of his thought caressed creamy soft skin dotted with freckles and minute imperfections, each one fascinating to the Darjhan. He drew in a deep breath, the scent of her arousal filling his nostrils, even as his spirit reveled in the unique redolence of her soul.

Beneath the clinging blanket of his consciousness, her body began to respond, her heartbeat quickening, her breaths deepening. He sank partway into her and felt her muscles flex and shift around him as she stretched, her chest rise and fall on a sigh. In the air above her, his hand began to tremble.

And then it was grasped.

With a vertiginous feeling of being drawn across a chasm, he returned to himself and opened his eyes.

Viera stared up at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable, his hand cradled between both of hers and held to her breast. He felt suddenly breathless, unable to drag his gaze from the woman’s. Heat poured from her hands into his flesh, and his cock hardened at the sensation. Ruthlessly he willed the erection away. What had he been thinking? To touch her uninvited—even in spirit—was a presumption, an abuse. He was no better than a lecher pinching the bottoms of tavern girls. He tried to think of something to say that might excuse his behavior, but what excuse was there? Weakness and loneliness could not pardon his trespass.

She lifted his hand to her mouth, and his stomach tightened in an agony of self-restraint as she pressed a searing kiss to it. Her face blurred for a moment, then the tears slipped free of his lashes. He kept perfectly still, but for the air that rushed in and out of his lungs.

She took his hand and placed it over her heart. Even through the sheet, the feel of her was unbearably hot. Her eyes closed and she drifted back into dreams, but she did not release her hold on him.

He sat beside her and felt her heart beating evenly beneath his palm. He thought about his wife. Thought about what Lianon had said to him tonight. Thought about what he had become.

He gazed down at the sleeping woman’s face for a long time. Then, ever so carefully, he made himself draw his hand from her grasp.

~

Oh, swoon. Is it any wonder I fell in love with him?