Thursday, November 29, 2012

The Romance Novel Book Club

As literature majors, we at Boundless as the Sea like to see works dealing with genre in and of itself, so this self-referential new release from Kastil Eavenshade really seems to be breaking down the fourth wall. Very interesting!

Tell us more about this book, Kastil!


***************

The Romance Novel Book Club has been a brain child of mine for a few years. Being a panster writer, I tend to bounce from one manuscript to another. Last NaNo I had planned to finish this one but alas, I was too enthralled with the novellas and shorts to make time. Again the poor story pouted in the corner eating a vat of Ben & Jerry’s. 

When I saw making a short story was becoming very hard to do, I decided I had to finish this novel. It's quirky, funny, and may or may not have some real life experiences. I’ll never tell. In truth, it’s a poke at romance novels that turns into a woman realizing there's a real world out there and real love right in front of her face. 


One of the fun parts was making up the romance novel excerpts. I took some of the things that made me roll my eyes when I read straight romance. It's the sarcastic cynic in me. Still, I have to admit that I started to fall in love with the characters I created in the fake ones. It happens. 

Now for the fun part! The blurb and a teaser excerpt! 




From the legendary times of the Victorian Age to the rugged reaches of outer space, the romance novels have done nothing to spark Patricia’s want and hope of finding that one special man to call her own. She’s knee deep into her thirties, near depression, and drowning her sorrows in pints of premium ice cream. 


When she falls for a waiter named Matt in her favorite restaurant, her insecurities do their best to thwart her plans of true love. It isn’t until she picks up one last romance novel that she realizes life cannot be lived within the ink splattered pages of an author’s fantasies. She has one chance to set her life straight and snatch the one man who gets her: mind and body. 

Will Patricia take it? 


***************

The Black Room was the little place Julie and I tried out after her divorce. A little kinky and a lot of fun, it catered to people preferring to remain anonymous but wanting to have an out of this world experience sexually. While I’m not the kind of girl that wanted to be tied up all the time, it had its appeal. Thus, the handcuffs in my bedroom. I hadn’t come across a man that I could trust enough to pull those bad boys out lately. 
Just the type of place to get all my sexual frustrations out. 

I passed through the usual check points better than I thought I would. The high class of Black Room always appealed to me. Per the code, I had chosen a satin red mask with sequined outline and draping jewel strands. The color denoted I’d go for some light bondage. I didn’t mind the occasional tied up and spanked session but the more extreme side? Not on your life. 

Eyeliner coated my lids and cherry red lipstick adorned my puckered mouth. Make-up outside the club might be something I shirked with aplomb, but it was a must to gain entry. Why should I care? Tonight I would get pampered with the simple tap on the shoulder. If I didn’t get picked by a man at the end of an hour, I could choose my partner. 

Within the confines of Black Room, my name was York. When I signed up, I gave the call name as a twist on my name. I thought myself clever using a candy bar as a nom de plume. 

I lounged on a Victorian chair, my fuck me pumps a nice shiny red. My black dress conformed to my curves, and I felt damn sexy. Any inhibitions I had stayed in the car with the windows cracked until I finished my man meat shopping spree. 

Other members chatted away as my gaze swept the room. I preferred to look disinterested, like a hard mark, than exude desperation. Whether it was the truth or not didn’t mean I wanted my hungry eyes to stray onto less than savory company. Black Room was high class, but it had its fair share of drooling troglodytes. 

The room slowed to a crawl as I noticed my favorite plaything across the room. The black satin mask couldn’t hide his appearance. His mannerisms within Black Room were too familiar to me. My taut muscled specimen prowled the carpet like the carnivore I knew he could be. The apex of my thighs moistened at his presence. I remembered each wicked little escapade I had with this particular member. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he window shopped until he came across my rack. With one glance in my direction, I hooked in my bait. Already my heart slammed into my rib cage in anticipation of his electric touch. 

His code name was Tall One, and he certainly fit the bill. He  leaned in, and I inhaled that masculine scent uniquely his. Whatever cologne he used danced nicely with his pheromones. I was a cat in heat ready to scratch my name into his back as he rode me. 

“My, York.” His words tickled my ear. “In for some adventure tonight?” 

“Can you handle it?” I breathed back.

“Why don’t we find out?”
I placed my hand in his, and he led me away from the crowded room into a private one of his choosing. The lights dim, he glided me in and closed the door behind us. 

Deep mahogany wood on the bedposts and luxurious red velvet hung from the peaks. A perfect centerpiece for our carnal night of pleasure. My body curled against his chest, the ache to caress his erection pulsing to my core. His fingertips glided along my shoulders. With each caress, his senses reacquainted themselves with every inch of my flesh. I groaned as his palms rubbed my nipples. They hardened instantly. 

“My. Someone’s been neglecting themselves.” He tweaked my tightened areolas, and I gasped. Masturbation was second hand for me. Nothing compared to sharing a sexual experience with a partner. Especially one as interested in pleasing you as you were them. I always had that with Tall One. He’d chase all my sorrows away with one gentle stroke along my clit. 

My arms reached behind to run through his hair as he lavished my breasts with attention. I ground my behind into his hardened shaft. His breathy rumble sent shivers down my spine. With one yank, he pulled the top of my dress down to expose my lacy red bra. His petting frantic, the fabric of my undergarments heightened my arousal. 

“I can’t hold it, York.” His hips worked into my backside, his desire apparent in the thickened length straining against his clothing. 

“I was hoping for a little play tonight.” My words were truth no matter how much my body ached to be rammed into by his cock. 

“Trust me.” 

The timbre in his voice echoed. 

“Always.” 

His hands grasped the bottom of my dress and yanked it up past my hips. He groaned when he realized I had gone panty-free for the evening. His palm cracked against my backside, and I yelped. 

“You little tease.” Another swat landed on my bare ass. “You’re a bad girl, York.” His hand smoothed over my cheek, cooling the hotness swelling from it before he gave me another punishing whack. 

“Hands on the bedpost, young lady.” 

Wetness pooled down my thighs as I grasped the mahogany and velvet. The golden cord hanging down soon bound my wrists. His searing lips claimed the nape of my neck as his fingers pulled and teased my nipples. One hand ventured down to my wet core, stoking the flame already ignited. I shattered to his demanding touch. 

“Come again.” His gruff voice commanded.</div> 


*************

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Saturday, November 17, 2012

Masks of a Tiger

We're always happy to welcome author Doris O'Connor back to Boundless as the Sea. She's got quite a knack for telling a great story, and her scenes and characters are hot hot hot! Her Club Ink series continues with this latest installment...



Neeve doesn't understand why any normal person would choose to wear a collar, like a common house pet. So, the collaring ceremony of her best friend's sister in law is the last place she wants to be, even if the hot men watching her send her insides aflame. 

Never one for missing the opportunity to teach a bratty sub manners, Grisha intends to show the fiery little redhead the error of her ways. He doesn't expect to see her drawn to the flame like the proverbial moth. When she hurts herself in ways that even a Dom of his experience finds hard to witness, he knows he needs to help her. Will their sexual chemistry be enough to chase away their demons and burn away their masks? Or is the submission Grisha demands too much for Neeve to accept?


***************

The deep, animalistic growl erupting from his chest caused more of her juices to flood her pussy, and she hastily followed his order of, "Hang on to me, sweetheart. We need to take this to the dungeon."

The way he said the word dungeon sent a shiver down her body, as images of him in another dungeon filled her mind. The barely functioning rational side of her brain screamed at her what the fuck she was doing, but her body just wasn't listening. Being this close to him, the need to stay in his arms consumed her. Her empty pussy ached to be possessed by this man. The heat of his thick, rock hard cock burned her through his jeans, and when he placed her on the huge bed dominating one side of the room, she didn't want to lose the contact. He chuckled into her neck and licked the sensitive skin. The curiously rough texture of his tongue sent her nerve endings tingling, and she locked her ankles behind his butt, and ground her clit against him again.

God, she was so close, so damn close, if only…

Her eyes flew open, and the world tilted when he disentangled himself from her in one easy move. Before she knew what happened he had her lying over his knees, her dress pulled up to her hips, thong pulled down to her knees pinning them together. One of his arms over her back held her down.

"Don't move, sweetheart, or this will hurt." She froze. Surely he wouldn't spank her? And why did the thought of that make more of her juices leak out of her? Why was she not screaming no, or red, or whatever the hell one screamed in such circumstances? Instead, she was in danger of staining his jeans with her arousal.

"Don't you dare spank me. I'm not five years old!" Even to her own ears the protest sounded feeble, and Grisha swatted her ass several times in quick succession. The force behind those swats pushed her further into his lap, and tears sprang to her eyes. He massaged her ass cheeks, and the hot burn eased and spread in tingles of awareness. Her pussy clamped, and she felt the wetness on the top of her thighs.

"Bastard! You have no right, you … oh—What are you doing? Oh God, yes, don’t stop."

Grisha's amused chuckle vibrated through her, as he trailed something cold and smooth along her slit repeatedly. He followed the object with his fingers, the heat of those digits burning a path of awareness along her labia. She jumped when he circled her clit, and he murmured his approval at her panted reaction. She tried to push herself against that hand, and she screamed in surprise when he pinched her clit.

"That's not the way this works, sweetheart. You'll come when I let you, not before, and not until you tell me the truth."

Again he traced her slit with the object, and Neeve bucked when it started vibrating. He pushed the toy slightly into her channel, and her cunt clamped around the barely there invasion, her internal muscles desperately trying to pull it in further to no avail. Grisha kept it there on the edge, driving her insane with the need to come. The orgasm hovered just out of her reach, and she groaned her frustration to the floor, pummeling his legs in the process.

Another swat to the ass was her reward. Her tender flesh stung and burned, the slight pain adding to the assault on her senses.

"So, what will it be, Neeve? Are you going to tell me the truth, or do I carry on with your punishment?"

"P-punishment?" Neeve panted the words as her body climbed again. "You call this punishment? Is that all you've got?"

Why she felt the need to goad him she couldn't say, but by God, her body might be betraying her, but that didn't mean that she would give in that easily.

"No, sweetheart, I call this torture, and I can keep this up for hours." She heard the smile in his voice, but there was an unmistakable edge of command in those words, and her stomach clenched in excitement.

"You're so fucking wet for me, and your ass is so pink—it’s a beautiful sight, sweetheart. So tell me if you’re not a sub, then why is your essence staining my jeans? Why is that sweet cunt of yours quivering and weeping? It's just waiting for my thick cock to fill you, isn't it?"

He pushed the dildo all the way in, angling it until it hit her g-spot, and Neeve saw stars. He fucked her with merciless precision until she was a quivering mass of need and would have said anything to get off.

"Please, please … I need to come … please, Grisha."

The swat to her ass stung, and his voice could have cut glass.

"You will call me, Sir, sub. And you will answer my questions without evasion." He pushed the dildo all the way in and covered her slit with his hand, whilst the vibrations inside her increased to almost unbearable levels. He pushed one of his fingers into her anus, and Neeve screamed out loud. That felt way too good.

"Please, please, I will, please, just let me—"

"Let you what my sweet, Neeve? Let you come? Do you need to come?" His husky words in her ear grounded her, as he molded his naked chest against her back and pulled her hair until she looked sideways and up into his eyes. Glittering, golden orbs of intensity they pulled her into his will, and she couldn’t have looked away if her life depended on it.

"Yes," she whispered, and he smiled.

"Then what do you call me?"

"Yes, Sir."

His brilliant answering smile of approval spread through her and left darts of heat along her skin.

"And you'll answer my questions?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir." "Then come, sweetheart. Come for me now."


***************

Get your copy here!

And find Doris here!
Evernight 

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Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Family Ties

We're proud to welcome Evernight's own Robin Badillo to our blog today! She has a wonderful story to share...



Robin Badillo is a down to earth mother of four, born and raised in a small Texas town where she still resides with her nearly grown kids and two spoiled dogs.

After years of being a wife and mom, complete with company picnics and fundraisers for the P.T.A., Robin found herself starting over when her husband of fifteen years suddenly passed away in 2006. With no particular skills to speak of, Robin took the advice of friends and family and followed her heart and passion for writing into the publishing world.

A fan of paranormal and southern romance novels, Robin does her best to offer up a plethora of tasty morsels to satisfy her reader’s appetite. Whether vampires, werewolf shifters, or just good ol’ country boys, Robin strives to create heroes to die for and heroines who will knock your socks off. Adversity is Robin’s motivation, which explains why she’s a true believer that grey hair is simply God’s graffiti.




Every pack needs an alpha, and every alpha needs a pack.

Tucker Wilde, a lone wolf, returns to the town where his shifter lineage first began, only to discover his rightful place as alpha has been handed down through another blood-line. To make matters worse, old family secrets threaten the fate of the love he’s destined to find.

Shifter, Tegan Blaid is the key to saving her pack by joining with the son of a powerful pack member, but her heart belongs to Tucker, the one wolf she was never meant to know. Can Tucker and Tegan fight the forces against them to secure their positions in the pack, or is history determined to repeat itself despite their family ties?


***************

She held her breath when the oversized wolf emerged into the clearing. Every muscle in his broad shoulders flexed and she could see the rise and fall of his chest with every heavy breath he took. 

Tegan rose to her feet and reached for the thick fur around his neck. God, he’s so beautiful.

Not nearly as breathtaking as you.

“Wait?” She withdrew her hand. “You really can read my thoughts.”

Can’t all wolves hear each other’s thoughts? He nudged her hand with his snout.

“No.” Tegan splayed her fingers through his coat, tugging on it as she massaged the firm muscles between his shoulder blades. “I’ve never heard another wolf’s thoughts and as far as I know, none have ever heard mine.” This is crazy.

We’re just special, I guess.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Tucker moved closer, rubbing himself against her thigh. Run with me.

“Tucker, I…” Tegan drew his warm body near, hugging him to her leg. “Okay. Okay”

Tucker eased back and sat on his haunches.

Tegan swallowed hard as a flurry of angst dashed through her body. In order to run, her clothes had to go.

Keenly aware of Tucker’s intense stare, Tegan removed his jacket and let it fall to the ground, her eyes fixated on his. “Are you going to watch me undress?” Her heart raced and she struggled to control the goose-bumps rippling across her skin as she awaited his reply.

Do you want me to watch you?

Tegan nodded. But not like that.

Tucker immediately transitioned back into his human form and stood across from her, naked, and glistening with beads of perspiration.

As her gaze trailed downward, moisture gushed between her legs when her eyes feasted upon his massive erection jutting upward toward his stomach. Holy Hell.

Tucker ran his hand up the length of his shaft and thumbed the slit. He bit his bottom lip as though pleased to present himself to her. “Your turn.”

“God, you’re beautiful.”

“Nowhere near as breathtaking as you.”

Tegan stepped closer, unbuttoning her blouse. “Have you ever been with a shifter?”

Tucker swallowed hard, his eyelids lowering to half-mast as he visually took her in. “Didn’t even know I was a shifter until recently.”

Dismissing his reply, Tegan moved on to her next question. “Why can’t other wolves hear me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe no other wolf is meant to.”

Good answer. She licked her lips, giving her instincts free reign over her body as she slinked toward him. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Your scent is everywhere.”

Tucker reached out and cupped the back of her neck with his right hand, drawing her face closer, inches from his. “Not everywhere—yet.” With that, his mouth crashed into hers and a growl like none she’d ever heard echoed into the night.

Tucker tore away her top and ran long, thick fingers up and down her back, pulling and tugging at her bra as his hot kisses trailed along her throat.

“God, you smell so good.” Tucker dropped to his knees and quickly unfastened her jeans, jerking them down from side to side, licking her stomach and nipping at the tender skin on her hip bones as he ventured lower.

Her panties were next and she stepped out of them as he guided them past her knees.

“Now let’s see how you taste.”

Tegan shuddered as he selfishly lapped at her freshly waxed mound. She sucked air through her teeth when he parted her lips and probed her clit with the hardened tip of his tongue.

“Shit.” Her knees weakened and she felt herself losing the battle to stand.

Tucker stopped and lowered her to the ground.

In seconds, his lips found hers again. His tongue plunged deep and she sucked it, tasting her own tangy juices. “I want you so bad.” Tegan moaned. “Then have me.”


***************


Robin's Blog
Evernight Publishing Robin’s Author Page
Amazon Author Page

Monday, November 12, 2012

Brooke's Wish

We're thrilled to have Evernight's own Sandra Bunino here today!

Sandra Bunino began a love of romance stories while penning a creative writing assignment in high school. The story ended with the heroine receiving a long stemmed red rose in her locker on Valentine’s Day. Since then, all of her stories feature the hero presenting the heroine with roses. Sandra is constantly searching for different ways to achieve a heart-pumping, stomach-flipping, breath-catching reaction from her readers. Her books and short stories include Marooned in Miami, Lusted in Las Vegas, Sara’s Smile, The Satin Rose Experience (short story in the Keyboards and Kink anthology) and Mia’s Submission.

BROOKE’S WISH (The Satin Rose Experience series) 

A failed relationship and long hours at her flourishing practice have Dr. Brooke Allaire running on empty. When Brooke accepts a girlfriend’s gift of some holiday pampering at New York City’s posh Satin Rose Experience, she assumes she’s in for a weekend of facials and massages. Brooke soon realizes there’s more to SRE than meets the eye.

Ty Venice is a team player. He’s used to sharing submissives with fellow Dom Jackson Reid. However, if there was ever a game changer, Dr. Brooke Allaire was it. That is, until he gets a glimpse at her ultimate fantasy, to be possessed by two men at once.

The Satin Rose Experience, New York’s elite BDSM club residing on the twentieth floor of Rosebud Resorts, contains ten uniquely themed suites, each with its own story to tell. Fulfill your fantasy at SRE.

***************

“W-who’s there?” Brooke croaked. She put her hands on her hips and straightened her back.

A low chuckle erupted. “Don’t panic, princess. It’s just me.”

Ty. She took a deep breath and smiled.

“Sorry, love. I got carried away taking in the sight of you like this. You look magnificent, Brooke.” His southern drawl was more distinct than the night before.

Warm hands stroked the bare skin under the negligee between the corset and her lace panties. She shivered from the light touch traveling up her back. He untied the ribbon at her neck and slipped the negligee off her shoulders. Heat radiated from his body as he moved to face her and pulled the blindfold from her eyes.

“Hi there,” he said huskily.

Her stomach fluttered when she looked into his eyes. It was a different look for Ty Venice. Thick stubble covered his cheeks and the area above his lip. She recalled how his whiskers scratched her cheeks the previous night and her face heated when she anticipated his stubble abrading the skin of her inner thighs. She lowered her eyelids to his bare shoulders. Her breath caught at the sight of his muscular chest and arms. Reaching out, she traced her fingertips over the outline of a detailed rose tattooed on the muscular curve of his bicep. A combination of musk and manliness filled her senses. She continued her gaze downward and followed a line of soft hair to the unfastened button of rumpled khaki pants. Brooke looked back to his face and he smiled seemingly enjoying watching her visual journey down his body.

“Hi.” She smiled back.

Ty hooked his thumb under her chin and lifted her face to his.

“I heard you requested me, love.” His lips were just a whisper away from hers. “Everything okay?” There was concern in his voice.

Brooke opened her mouth to speak but closed it again and nodded. Her heart beat wildly as his hand gently stroked her cheek. 

***************

BROOKE’S WISH is available here:

Evernight Publisher / AllRomance eBooks /BookStrand / Amazon

Contact Sandra:

Website / Email / Facebook / Goodreads / Amazon Author Page / Twitter @sandrabunino

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

The Lost Mercenary

Greetings everyone! Thank you Sir and Lady Devereux for inviting me to visit your blog again! 

I’ve been giving some thought on how to make this post a little more interesting than the usual blurb and excerpt and inspired by a friend, I’m going to give you a sneak peek into my writing process.

Usually, stories come to me when I’m walking my 1 year old Labrador. (I tend to do that a lot, the guy is insatiable). I’ll then record the idea on whatever is at hand: a scrap piece of paper, my phone, a napkin… It’s not the first time I don’t have anything to write on and I have to try and remember the story until I get home, which is not an easy feat when you have a 40kg dog jumping on you to play ball.

However, once I do get home, I’ll try to record the thought on my notebook.



The night I had the idea for The Lost Mercenary and the book before that, The Mercenary Slave, I didn’t have this pretty notebook. I had to scribble the idea on a piece of cardboard (which as you can see I still keep) because I couldn’t find a decent sheet of paper that night.


After I get the idea for the story, I usually have a scene that haunts me. Wherever I go, whenever I’m feeling a little relaxed, it’ll be playing in my mind until I write it down.


After that, usually (though not always) comes the chapter outline. This is prone to change several times as I type the story onto the computer.


Finally, after much writing, revising and writing again, The Lost Mercenary was born! 

Besides letting me visit, AD have given me the option to hold a giveaway! So if you want to win a copy of The Lost Mercenary, just leave a comment!




***************
All he ever wanted was a family and some land for farming. Instead, his dreams were ripped at the seams by a ruthless king. Choosing to become a mercenary, Gregorii has roamed the land clinging to a past he thought long gone until Emmeline stumbled onto his path. Now, his dreams resurface and hope re-emerges. The only problem is Emmeline’s defiance. 

Emmeline has a secret. An important secret. A dangerous secret. Few know her mission. Fewer know her past. When Gregorii turns up in her life, past, present and future unite and her whole world threatens to crumble.

How long will she be able to hide the truth from him? How long will her heart resist the inevitable?

***************

Sharply taking hold of her hands, he tied her wrists together. Pulling her to her feet, he bound her to the lowest branch, forcing her to almost stand on her tiptoes. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright and her hair disheveled, the taut braid she wore earlier practically gone. Gregorii swept his gaze over her body and he felt his cock ooze in appreciation. She was truly gorgeous. Curvy, with toned legs and breasts with large hard nipples begging to be touched and tasted.

“GreariĆ³us, release me or I will kill you,” she threatened in a low murmur.

He lifted his eyes to her face and licked his lips. He was anxious to kiss her again, yet he knew it would not be an easy task at the moment. “I believe your position is not exactly one of ease for killing, though I do not doubt your capabilities. You have a nasty right hook,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “And incredibly strong legs, not to mention a delicious tasting pussy. No wonder you became mistress of the brothel.”

Emmeline spat at his feet and he grinned.

“Tell me what I want to know and I will release you and no one will know the better. We can even have a peaceful fuck afterwards. I know you want it as much as I do.” He glanced into her eyes, but she spat again, this time the dribble landing on his face. Chuckling, he brushed it off like a bothersome fly.

“I’ve been submitted to worst torture than this. You don’t have it in you to hurt me. You were never good at hurting others.”

“It’s been ten years, Avalina, I have changed.”

“No, you haven’t. You are still the gentleman, the kind hearted soul who will help maidens in distress. You might be a mercenary, but that is only on the outside. Inside, you are still that playful boy with a heart of gold. I have seen you fight before and it was not what we just did here. You didn’t want to hurt me,” she accused.

“You didn’t want to hurt me too badly, either. You killed that man in the woods without contemplation. Right now, you doubted your moves or we would both be very badly injured. In truth, you’re still that vulnerable child challenging everyone because she’s scared of the world.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, GreariĆ³us. I lost my vulnerability the moment Ragnahall burned down. I admit I am scared of the world. You have no idea what is out there, Gregorii,” she whispered anxiously. “But now, I challenge for survival.”

“You don’t always have to fight against everything, Ava,” he murmured. “You don’t have to fight me.”

He watched Emmeline carefully as she lowered her lashes and chewed on her bottom lip, mulling on his words. In two strides, he stood inches away from her, his fists clenched at his sides so he wouldn’t touch her. She glanced up at him with large brown eyes full of fear, causing his heart to flutter nervously. “Why won’t you tell me why you’re really going to Karpathian?” he asked softly.

Emmeline squared her jaw, her lips thinning and her eyes growing hard. “There is nothing to tell, Gregorii.”

“I think there is.”

She shook her head, lose strands of her long hair falling over her face, framing the pink lips he itched to kiss.

“You will tell me.”

“Like I said,”—she lifted her cool gaze to his eyes—“there is nothing to tell.”

“I will torture you for information.”

“I am no stranger to pain.”

Gregorii grinned and laughed. Reaching out, he roughly cupped her jaw. She inhaled sharply. “The torture I have in mind for you, Emmeline, my sweet Avalina, is quite different.” Dropping his head, he captured her lips in a searing kiss. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before opening her mouth to him and allowing his tongue to brush hungrily against hers. Gregorii pressed the length of his body against hers, wanting her to feel the need between his legs. He dropped his hands to her ass, caressing and squeezing the firm, round globes. Emmeline whimpered, the sound fueling his desire to new heights. His fingers brushed against the apex between her thighs, the heat there blazing. Panting slightly, he pulled away.

“I am no stranger to sex,” she said huskily.

Gregorii grinned. “I know, but I believe that like most whores, you are a stranger to soul weakening desire. The kind of attraction we feel for each other is as strange to you as it is to me.”

***************
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ARe

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Sunday, November 4, 2012

Remember, remember the 5th of November!

We are a husband-wife wife-husband writing team under one pen name, Adonis Devereux.


The Mr.



I've heard that the 5th of November has something to do with some dude called Guy Fawkes. I was going to call him a "guy", but my writer sensibilities detest redundancy. Anyway, I'm going to give that guy a miss...and talk about my first anniversary as a published author. My first book, Worth His Freedom (paperback), was released on November 5th, 2011. We had started writing the book during the Great Tohoku Earthquake and Tsunami in March 2011, and then things got bad here in Japan. Though there wasn't mass looting or anything like that, there was clear panic. Supermarkets were empty and not being restocked, and we were worried about what tomorrow would bring. And then came the reports of radiation. A lot of foreigners I knew fled the country and haven't returned. Aftershocks rocked the region for weeks -- that's what they were officially called, though the aftershocks were big enough to be earthquakes themselves. We lived by the door, ready to run out into the empty fields at a moment's notice. Things calmed down, and we returned to writing. We got two offers for our first novel, which was strange. It's not often that a publisher gets rejected by an unpublished, first-time writer, but that's exactly what we had to do. We went with Evernight based on the recommendations of writers we respected and trusted. You know who you are, and I thank you for your support! You're the best!

I thought I knew all about writing, but I've learned so much about my craft in the past year. I can always be better, and I can always write tighter, deeper, truer stories. Our fantasy world of Gilalion has been our setting for these seven novels, and it's been a great ride exploring the love stories of seven passionate couples. But it's not the being published, per se, that's the best part of this past year. Writing has drawn me closer to my wife, my lover, my friend, my soul. She is everything to me, and this shared experience of storytelling has opened my eyes to her in new ways. She is my goddess, my muse, and my inspiration, and I see something of her in all the heroines, from the devotion of Elemia to the cunning of Saerileth, from the boundless love of Sillara (to be released January 2013) to the high honor of Ajalira. Yet she exceeds them all in a love for her man so profound that all I can say is how truly blessed I am for her deigning to stoop down, take my hand, and love me. She kissed my heart of stone and made it flesh. Even as a writer, I acknowledge that her love for me is beyond description. It would have to be sung, and no space in this world could hold its beauty. It is divine, and it comes from beyond. I write romance because I want to share with everyone just a glimpse of my wife's love, for even that glimpse is as gazing into the very heart of Love's fire.

Why do I love my wife? some might ask. How can I not? I would not be the man I am without her, and I am thrilled to be both her co-writer and her husband. She is a blooming flower, and as each layer of her petals opens to me, I learn something new about the nature of love. I can't wait for her to surprise me with her love again! And this is why I write.


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The Mrs.



It has been a year since we were first published, and what a year it has been! This has been, without doubt, the best year of my life. I have always loved stories, and one of the first things I realized about my darling when we met is that he is a storyteller par excellence. I have grown to appreciate that aspect of him more and more over this past year. Writing has filled most of our leisure hours, hours that are at a premium considering that my darling works two jobs, while I work one and homeschool four of our half-dozen children. Yet I would not change it, of course, because writing is a shared activity with my darling husband. No time with him could be spent in any better way (except sex!).

The seven couples of our seven full-length novels have all been fascinating to me, from the trials of Miria and Tsalrin in Worth His Freedom to the black-hearted enchantress Nevia in Chasing Earth and Flame to the sufferings of Kamen and Ajalira in A Lotus for the Regent. Writing about these couples has allowed me to describe more of love, and love fills my life, more now than at any time before. The world of Gilalion is something my darling and I have been working on since before we married, and its development filled our courtship as well as the years of our marriage. That world has far more stories in it than we have told, and its history and mythology could fill many volumes. This results in a depth and richness to the books that pleases the storyteller in me.

And that richness comes from my darling's brilliant imagination. Brilliant is the word that always comes to mind when I think of him--which is all the time! My darling husband is like a Silmaril, a gorgeous jewel that contains the light of the world. He is my love and my lover, and he is as necessary to me as breath. He is strong and noble like Kamen, passionate like Abbas, brilliant like Soren (to be released January 2013). Each of our heroes contains aspects of my darling, but he is larger, greater than them all. When I look into his face, I want to be a better woman. He deserves a better woman than I could ever be, but he is so generous, so good as to think I deserve him. Though that is actually impossible, it inspires me to strive for it. I have no dreams left to dream because my greatest dream has come true: I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine. I just wish I had more time to live my dream.

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Would you like to win a free copy of any book from our backlist? Just comment below, tell us what love means to you, and leave your email address. We'll choose three winners! Thanks, everyone, for your support!

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