If I Could Just Talk to Them #MFRWAuthor #book #authors

The list of writers I would like to meet and talk with is long. I’ve always been an avid reader and was lucky enough to discover Ray Bradbury, Robert A. Heinlein, Anne MCCaffery, and Ursula LeGuin as relatively new writers. But before them, I had fallen under the spell of Andre Norton. Born Alice Mary Norton, she wrote at a time when publishers believed only boys read science fiction, and obviously only males could write it. She wrote other books under pen names Allen Norton or Allen Weston. Her juvenile fiction usually featured an outsider who survives challenges and becomes the hero figure, saving the day. This “rites of passage” theme appealed a broad audience making her a best seller to adults also. My love of “underdog heroes” can be attributed to her.

A little later, I discovered Barbara Michaels who I suppose would be classified as Gothic romance. Again the outsider, usually considered the “bad boy” in the beginning of the book would turn out to be the hero in the end.

I would love to talk to these women about how they withstood the prejudices against female authors (and readers) and flourished and became the leaders in their genre.

Some time between Norton and Micheals I discovered H.P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard. Both these authors wrote in the 30’s but had a resurgence of popularity. I can almost understand my attraction for Conan who was born a slave but became a king. He does loosely fit my character preferences. But my attraction to the cult of Cthulhu confused me until I remembered The Dunwich Horror in which the truly bad guy was my favorite character. He became a bad guy because the townspeople hated his family and shunned him.

So my third author would be H.P. Lovecraft. I would love to understand the working of his imagination. And I would like him to know that while he was never recognized during his lifetime, 80 years later he and his creatures are an integral part of the horror genre.

My 4th and 5th authors are still living. I would love to talk to Tanya Huff and Poppy Z Brite and ask why they stopped writing my favorite books. Tanya moved from main characters who were gay males to write female main characters in the military. And Poppy went from anguished gay males to books that seem to be about food in New Orleans. If I could just talk to them, for even a moment, I'd also beg them to write just one more book in their old style.

Dress Up, Dress Down with L.M. Brown: Falling into Darkness #MFRWAuthor

Falling into Darkness is a story that takes place over a lengthy period of time. And when I say lengthy I mean epic. The story begins shortly before Lucifer falls from Heaven and sets himself up against God, continues right up to the present day, and then on into the future. You’d think that would be a lot of costume changes for my guys, wouldn’t you? I’m afraid that isn’t the case. Much of this story is set in the realm of angels or in the Underworld, where clothing doesn’t move with the times. Michael and the other archangels like their comfortable robes too much to give them up. They are creatures of habit and quite set in their ways. The classic angel attire is what they wear most of the time.

In the Underworld, the domain of Lucifer and the demons, things are a little hotter and the robes have been discarded in favour of tunics, which are cooler to wear, but still very old-fashioned.

What both the angels and demons need to remember, is to change into modern clothing when they walk the Earth.  At some points in the story, this turned out to be a handy way to show the passage of time. The modern era, as we know it, was entered the moment Lucifer decided to torture Michael by dragging him round clothes shops. Since angels (and Lucifer) can change their clothes with  nothing more than a thought, it was an entirely unnecessary venture, but it did help highlight the time period for the reader.

So there you have it, my angels are mostly dressed in typical robes of a bygone era, but with the power of a thought, they can blend into any culture by donning the appropriate garments. A handy power to have, I’m sure you’d agree.

Falling into Darkness by L.M. Brown

A Male/Male Romance

Blurb

Their love could save the soul of a fallen angel or damn an archangel to an eternity in Hell.

The realm of angels was created as a paradise where angels could watch over the earth as mankind took his first steps. For the archangel Michael, it is the only home he has ever known and he could never envisage another life. Michael’s life changes the day his path crosses that of the favoured son of the morning. From the moment he sees him, Michael wants Lucifer for his own. When the two angels come together the passion surprises them both.

Their love is forged in Heaven, but is doomed the moment Lucifer falls from grace to become the leader of an army of demons.

Separated by war, the former lovers know the time will come when they must face each other in battle.

Their confrontation will set in motion events that neither could have foreseen. For Lucifer it is the chance to persuade Michael to stand at his side, as his partner as leader of the demons. For Michael, it is a mission to save his lover’s soul, while risking his own.

Torn between his love for Lucifer and his duties as an angel, Michael walks a fine line, where one wrong step could result in his own fall from Heaven, and an eternity in Hell.

Excerpt

Across the table from him, Gabriel’s jaw dropped in apparent surprise as he stared at something over Michael’s shoulder.

Next to him, Raphael twisted in his seat and his expression morphed into one of shock too.

Michael wondered what might be happening behind him, yet he couldn’t move a muscle to see for himself. His spine tingled and he had the strangest sensation someone was staring straight at him.

“What is it?” he whispered, and in the silence of the room even his quiet question seemed obnoxiously loud.

“The son of the morning,” Gabriel murmured as he set Michael’s plate back in front of him with a shaky hand. “Lucifer.”

Michael must have misheard. Lucifer never came into the communal areas of Heaven. He, along with the other favorites, remained solitary, rarely associating with the rest of the angels, and never in a crowded setting such as this.

Slowly, barely able to draw breath, Michael faced the entrance.

Lucifer stood in the archway, the morning sun behind him. There could be no mistaking his silhouette for that of another.

In the brightness of the light, Michael couldn’t tell what Lucifer searched for, at least not for sure. Only his instincts told him Lucifer had eyes for him, and him alone.

Slowly, Lucifer strolled into the room. Every angel in his path stepped aside to let him pass. Some bowed their heads respectfully, but he didn’t acknowledge their deference in any way.

Finally he arrived at Michael’s table and came to a halt.

“Good morning,” Lucifer said.

“I…” Michael mumbled, once again silently cursing his ineptitude.

“I see you still have trouble forming sentences,” Lucifer commented. “Let us hope you can manage more than a single word by this evening.”

“Er…”

Raphael gathered his wits together first and rose to make a sweeping bow. “Great angel, welcome to our table. Won’t you join us and partake of the fruits?”

Lucifer spared the archangel a momentary glance. “I have already eaten this morning.”

Raphael didn’t seem to know what to say, so he sat back down with a bump.

Lucifer returned his attention to Michael. “This evening, at sunset.”

“Where?” Michael asked, his voice croaking embarrassingly.

“Rumor has it your beach is quite pleasant.”

Michael nodded, not trusting his voice enough to try speaking again.

“Tonight then, Michael,” Lucifer said, before sweeping away in a flurry of robes, everyone once again stepping aside to make way for him.

“The son of the morning knows your name?” Gabriel asked as soon as Lucifer had gone. “Is he the one you’ve been meeting each dawn?”

Michael ducked his head. “I wouldn’t say I was meeting him, exactly.”

“But you have been with him in the mornings?” Raphael pressed. “You kept that quiet.”

There would be no escaping the interrogation and Michael accepted he had to come clean.

“I couldn’t sleep one night and ended up walking through the lands to the north of here. I chanced upon Lucifer coming to the pool of jewels one dawn. It seems he visits there most mornings.”

“And you’ve been at the pool with him,” Gabriel concluded.

“I wouldn’t say with him,” Michael mumbled. “I just happen to be in the area at the same time.”

“Just happen?” Raphael chuckled and leaned in to whisper. “I heard a rumor that when Lucifer is diving for jewels he disrobes completely.”

Michael’s face heated again.

Gabriel roared with laughter. “You’ve been spying on Lucifer?”

“I wouldn’t call it spying,” Michael replied.

“But everyone else would,” Raphael teased. “Oh, Michael, what would we do without you to keep us entertained?”

Raphael and Gabriel laughed and teased him for a little while longer, until Gabriel asked the question that had been bothering Michael ever since Lucifer’s appearance.

“If all you’ve been doing is ogling him, how did Lucifer know your name?”

Michael shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I projected it telepathically without realizing.”

“Or maybe he’s been watching you too?” Raphael suggested.

Buy Links

Pride Publishing - https://www.pride-publishing.com/book/falling-into-darkness

Falling into Darkness will also be available at Amazon, All Romance Ebooks and other online stores from 13^th December 2016.

Bio

L.M. Brown is an English writer of gay romances. She believes that there is nothing hotter or sweeter than two men in love with each other… unless it is three.

When L.M. Brown isn’t bribing her fur babies for control of the laptop, she can usually be found with her nose in a book.

Links

Where to find L.M. Brown

Website & Blog – http://lmbrownauthor.wordpress.com/

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/L.M.Brown.author

Twitter - @LMBrownAuthor

Six of the Best Blog Hop:An Excerpt

 

Hi all! My offering for the Six of the Best blog hop is from my recently released novella, After Midnight.

~~~~~~~~~ The choice between staying in on a Saturday night to clean and going to see Cheyenne at his first real gig hadn’t been a complicated decision. He was a world-class rocker who could play the guitar like a fiend and had a voice that made you feel…everything. Or made you horny. And fuck if she didn’t love him. Damn incubus. She reached across him and caressed Jewell’s side. Jewell’s eyes opened and she stared expressionless at the ceiling, hyper-alert to danger. It always took a few moments after resurrecting for her to remember where she was and who was with her, but since moving into their new home it seemed to take even longer. Ria sighed. She’d do anything if it would help Jewell feel safe enough to die each dawn and awaken peacefully. “All is well, Babydoll. It’s just me. Time to rise and twinkle with the stars.” “Already?” Jewell scrunched her eyes and blinked as if trying to focus them. Cheyenne lay his head on the soft swell of Jewell’s belly. “Didn’t we just go to bed?” Ria kissed his back and licked a slow trail down his spine. “Hours ago. Did we tucker out the poor little sex demon?” “Not hardly, dead girl.” She grabbed a fistful of his hair and turned him to face her. “That’s undead girl, thank you.” She bit his lower lip and let it drag between her teeth. “Show us what you’ve got left.”

After Midnight can be purchased at http://amzn.to/2dEOt59

~~

You can find Trevann online at: www.trevannrogers.com www.facebook.com/trevannr www.pinterest.com/trevannr Twitter: @TrevannRogers ~~

Dress Up, Dress Down with Marie Dry

Happy Friday! Let's welcome Marie Dry to the LAM Blog today, talking about her book, ALIEN BETRAYED. ********************************

NAKED ALIENS AND CLOTHES DOING DOUBLE DUTY

I thought it was really amusing, doing a blog about my characters clothes. Why? Because mostly I forget to put clothes on them. I literally have to go in afterwards and make sure they’re not running around naked. In the process I learned a lot about the function clothes serves in a story.

The first editor at Black Opal Books who worked on Alien Mine thought the Aliens in the Zyrgin Warriors series walked around naked. I was shocked that she could miss the wonderful description of their uniforms, loaded with weapons that became the size of pennies when placed in their pockets. Then I went searching for the specific paragraph where I described it. It wasn’t there! I had to go in and put clothes on them. I was mortified, this was my first book to be published and I did something so careless. The worst part was that I could see their clothes so clearly and knew the function they served and it only happened in my mind. And I managed to forget to put it down on the manuscript.  I knew from the beginning that their clothes were made of some really strong material with some amazing properties, allowing them to simply step out of their shoes without using laces and their uniforms were developed to withstand most weapons. I wanted their clothes to juxtapose their primitive joy in battling with swords. To illustrate that this was a culture with advanced technology even though they come across as rather primitive in their ideas.

After that I went and checked a contemporary I’ve been fiddling with and yip, no clothes. Once again the heroine’s clothes were clear in my mind, but not on the page. She’s a rather frumpy dresser and much more interested in developing her mind than her fashion sense. To make matters worse, her way of looking at herself and what she wear through the book, illustrate her acceptance of herself as a beautiful woman by the end of the book. Or it would have if I’d just taken the time to really describe her clothes. Since I made the changes and ensured that the clothes mirrored her development the story has improved.

What I learned from this was that clothes can illustrate aspects of the character, they can show the technological stage of development of a civilization or poverty or riches, it can illustrate the characters jobs or lack of jobs. In other words, clothes has their own job to do in a story. They can also do absolutely nothing if the author, namely me, don’t use it as a tool.

Mary Buckham wrote an excellent craft book. Active Settings by Mary Buckham. I cannot recommend this enough. She has examples that illustrate what I tried to say above. Here is a link to amazon to her book. A Writer's Guide to Active Setting

Thank you for inviting me to write for your blog. I’m off to make sure my Gargoyle is wearing clothes and not running around Cape Town naked.

More about Marie

All her life Marie Dry has read romances and was fairly young when she decided she would travel the world and write the perfect story that had all the elements she looked for in a romance. In 2007 after living in Morocco for four years and back in South Africa, she shared a pizza with a friend and promised to go all out with her writing and to work at getting published. In 2014 her first book was published by Black Opal Books. Two more books has since been published and a fourth contracted.

There are several wonderful moments in her life that she would never trade for anything. One of them is meeting President Nelson Mandela and the second being published.

www.mariedry.com

Marie's Amazon Page

Find Marie on Goodreads

BOOK BLURB

ALIEN BETRAYED

In a bleak and apocalyptic future, where the Zyrgin Warriors are getting ready to conquer Earth, Marcie is sent to infiltrate the alien stronghold in the Rocky Mountains, only to be betrayed by her own people. Instead of stealing the alien’s technology and accomplishing her mission of causing mayhem and destruction among them, she is captured by Larz, an arrogant alien, who wreaks havoc with her heart when he insists that she will be his woman. Still, he may no longer want her when he discovers her secrets…ones she doesn’t even know she has.

EXCEPT: CHAPTER 1

Larz clasped the training sword with both hands and swung it in a wide arc around his head, conquering his favourite patch of the Rocky Mountains.This was the closest a Zyrgin warrior came to the human emotion of joy. The sword fit his hand like an extra limb. His body moving with strength and fluidity gifted to him by generations of the strongest blood on Zyrgin. Still swinging, he moved the sword to his left and then his right hand, increasing his speed until his movements became a blur.

Every day after his warrior duties, he came to this rocky patch on the mountain.Practiced to ensure he was worthy and ready for the day the leader of all Zyrgin territories would give him his sword of honor. That was the moment all warriors lived for. When their leader, who they called The Zyrgin, gifted them with a sword that would respond to the touch of a certain warrior only. Warriors from a strong bloodline, and some warriors born stronger,received swords that, with the aid of technology, could be made to shrink to nearly invisible size. To the enemy, it looked as if they disappeared and appeared as if by magic.

Many warriors used their cloaking technology to make it seem as if they had received such a sword from The Zyrgin. Larz knew he’d never have to resort to such measures. He was from The Zyrgin’s bloodline, descended from the strongest Zyrgin that ever ruled.

Larz lunged sideways then stepped back, performing the sequence of the warrior conquering with his sword with ease. Instinctively compensating for the uneven boulder strewn patch he stood on. Though his movements were swift and smooth, as a warrior’s should be, today he performed without his usual fierce concentration.

Worry for his human occupied his mind. Months ago, shortly before his second change, he claimed Marcie as his breeder after they rescued her from a raider camp. Everyone else called her a loud, mean woman with ugly red hair. Not a day went by without one of the warriors offering to kill her or bring him a better human. When he looked at her, he saw his breeder. A woman he’d never give up.

If he claimed her after he went through his third change, it might mean he had to give up his need to do battle in their wars, to serve on the Zyrgin homeland. The friend of Natalie and Julia, Sarah had disappeared more than a year ago and it had taken many months to find her in a raider camp. She had been starved and bruised and told them Marcie was responsible for many of the things that happened to her in that camp. They may have rescued Marcie from a raider camp, but they were certain she was sent to infiltrate them. Her attitude made her very unpopular. Shortly after they brought her to their guesthouse, she’d tried to hurt Sarah and Sarah had been moved to live with Natalie. Larz had to go through his third change soon, or he might not be able to claim her.

From the time the first Zyrgin ruled, millions of centuries ago, Zyrgin warriors were not allowed to claim a breeder before their third change. It was a strange knowing each warrior carried within. Larz turned and decapitated an imaginary enemy behind him. His third change was months away, and he needed to claim Marcie before she got herself killed.

He stumbled and compensated for the uneven rock beneath his boots. Adding challenge to his workout, he closed his eyes. A warrior who owned a foul-mouthed human had to be prepared for anything.

This barren patch of the alien planet he was born on, this little piece of earth, always drew him. On the hard rock, where no trees grew and no reintroduced wildlife ventured, he was reminded of his home planet. Out here, with the exotic earth sun shining down on him, he could think about claiming a strangely compelling woman with a mean mouth and ugly red hair. Make plans for keeping her safe from the consequences of her actions.

Zorlof, his brother, ran up to him, his pre-second change body small, but stronger than that of a human male. Their doctor couldn’t explain why he took so much longer than Larz to go through his second change, but all indications were that he would be very strong once it did happen. Zyrgin warriors were born with the knowledge of battle, with strength in their small bodies. With each change their knowledge and strength grew. In Zorlof’s case, he suspected that strength and knowledge might be much stronger in him than the average warrior. Even taking into account their strong bloodline, Zorlof was taller and stronger than any pre-second change warrior born for centuries.

Zorlof easily leaped over a few boulders and increased his speed until he skidded to a halt in front of Larz.

“Marcie tried to kill Zanr to get to Sarah. She screamed she’d kill Sarah the whole time,” Zorlof said.

The mountain blurred around Larz and noise rang in his ears. Like their ship’s klaxon, instead of danger to the ship, it heralded danger to his human. Larz sank down on his knees and leaned his head on his sword. “That human will drive me to Solarian drink.”

If she had simply gone after Zanr, they would’ve laughed at the idea of a human woman trying to overcome a Zyrgin warrior. No warrior would give an attack from a human woman any serious attention, beyond ensuring she didn’t hurt herself. Threatening the Zyrgin’s breeder? Larz might not be able to save her.

His time was up. He had to choose between Marcie and being a warrior and probably his life. Give up everything that defined him to save that female who had no concept of honor. He didn’t understand her mean nature and why she hated Sarah this much? If she was sent to infiltrate them, wouldn’t it make more sense to befriend them?

Larz closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Would the woman never stop putting herself in danger? When he claimed her, he’d make sure she understood that such behavior would have severe consequences for her. Ever since they rescued Marcie from the raider camps six months ago, she’d angered every human and Zyrgin who came into contact with her.

Dress Up Dress Down with Abbey MacMunn

Today we're joined by Abbey MacMunn, who is here to talk about characters from her debut release. Welcome to LAM, Abbey! ***************

Hello, my name is Abbey MacMunn and I write paranormal/fantasy romance. Today I’d like to talk about my debut paranormal romance, TOUCHED.

My main character, Cami Wilson, hates being cold, so naturally the story takes place during a winter month in England – sub-zero temperatures, biting winds, and a magical blizzard thrown in for good measure. When Joseph Carlisle first meets her, she’s wearing a thick winter coat and fur-lined boots – “all padded coat, messy hair and innocence” is how he describes her.

Cami prefers to wear casual clothes: jeans or leggings, topped with a baggy jumper two sizes too big to hide her bum, which she thinks is too big—Joseph thinks it’s the peachiest arse he’s ever seen.

Joseph is an immortal guardian – he doesn’t feel the cold. His attire is casual too: faded black T-shirt and worn jeans.

Here’s a scene from Touched, written from Joseph’s point of view. 

A few minutes later Cami returned, dressed as though embarking on an Arctic expedition instead of a stroll around the Manor. The black leggings were gone, replaced with dark blue jeans—a bit of a shame since he kind of liked those skin-tight leggings. But he had to smile at the enormous padded coat and fur-lined boots, complete with gloves, a woolly hat and a ridiculously long scarf wrapped three times around her neck. The whole ensemble made her look twice the size, and three times as charming.

She frowned. ‘What?’

‘You warm enough?’

Frown turned to grin as she glanced down at her clothes. ‘I don’t like being cold.’ She untangled her long hair from under her scarf before going over to Nana to kiss her cheek. ‘Won’t be long, Nana. Love you.’

‘Love you too, darling, and don’t hurry on my account.’ Nana lowered her voice but Joseph still heard her whisper, ‘He likes you just the way you are, Bridget.’

Cami laughed, clearly sharing a private joke they thought he wouldn’t understand.

‘You ready?’ He didn’t let on he knew what movie she’d quoted. ‘We should get an hour or so before the sun goes down.’

‘Great, let’s go,’

Joseph held the door open to the corridor.

Nana flapped her arms. ‘Hurry up you two, you’re letting in the draft. I swear penguins would be at home out there.’

‘Bye, Nana,’ he said, chuckling. Once they were alone he couldn’t help making a comment. ‘You and Nana have a thing for rom-coms do you, like Bridget Jones’s Diary?’

She looked surprised. ‘You heard that?’

‘Yeah, Nana’s whisper was kind of loud, even without the immortal hearing,’

‘Sorry, subtlety is not one of Nana’s strong points,’

‘So you’re a bit of a romantic at heart?’

‘I don’t know. I could be…’ She blushed and headed down the stairs. ‘With the right kind of guy.’

‘And what kind is that?’

Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. ‘I think you know what kind,’

His pulse rate quickened, and so did his footsteps as he followed behind her.

TOUCHED is available now.

Amazon.com

Amazon UK

Smashwords

Apple

Kobo

Nook

Blurb:

When inquisitive antique dealer Cami Wilson learns she’s the revered offspring of an immortal mother and a mortal father, it’s not just her hybrid status that has her all flustered. The title comes with her very own super-sexy guardian.

Jaded immortal Joseph Carlisle has only one thing on his mind; his sworn duty to protect the hybrid from those who wish her harm. Anything else would be complicated. That is until they meet.

Chemistry sizzles between them but there’s a problem—the hybrid’s curse. Cami’s touch, skin to skin, proves near fatal to her and all immortals, Joseph included.

But the fated lovers discover her curse is the least of their concerns when a friend’s deadly betrayal threatens to tear them apart forever.

Dress Up Dress Down with Ava Cuvay

Please join me in welcoming "out of this world" romance author, Ava Cuvay to the LAM Blog! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi! Thanks for letting me come chat about the importance of attire in my upcoming book Love and the Corps. My character’s choice of clothing in this book, and in specific scenes, was particularly fun to write because it helped to complement/contradict my characters.

My heroine, Captain Jo Behsue of the Corps, has a large scar across her face and a strong, sturdy body (thick in all the right places). Rumor has is she is 90% dude, and she has never bothered to prove the rumors wrong. Because she is career military, her clothing choices center around her Corps-issue, boxy, sexless uniforms. She finds the prospect of having to wear a delicate satin evening gown more terrifying than being inserted in the middle of battle with only her fists as weapons. While her uniforms intrigue my hero—is she a plentiful handful or a sweet little mouthful? —the sight of her womanly charms beautifully displayed in a gown sets his passion aflame.

By contrast to his love interest, Lux Krotah of the Klorakian mercenary army—like all his kind—is tall, lithe, and silver, with a beauty nearly effeminate in nature (except for his muscles!). Where the Corps is a blunt, brute-force type of military operation, their girly Klorakian counterparts embody grace in all things, from their physical features to their combat tactics to their architecture and clothing. So, while Jo must wear a gown to the royal ball, the Klorakian ceremonial formal dress is… a skirt. A kilt of iridescent scarves covering just enough of Lux to make Jo’s mouth water.

In Love and the Corps, I enjoyed dressing my characters to contradict stereotype, while trying to keep them sexy in the eyes of the one person who matters: Their Happily-Ever-After. At the very least, I get to have an alien character dressed in a sexy kilt!

Love and the Corps Snippet

Two harried hours later, Jo eased her way through the palace corridors. The quiet halls echoed the soft patter of her sandals—dainty, strappy sandals which were the epitome of femininity, but at least their heels were flat. Her steps were careful, cautious. She attempted a slow, gliding gate, unnerved by how her unsupported breasts swayed and jostled within the bodice of her dress. If she was overly cavalier with her movements, her breasts might escape their delicate confines.

Only one layer of luxurious satin rested between her naked body and disaster.

K’Ahla and the servant girls had transformed Captain Jo Behsue of the Corps into a creature she did not recognize. They had crafted a flowing, watery gown from satin sheets purchased but never used by the former dictator—Jo appreciated the subtle insult to his failed legacy—and swept her thick hair upon her head in a simple chignon she could never replicate. They applied enough make-up for her eyes and her lips to catapult off her face and diva-slap her scar until it faded to obscurity. Jo had stared at her reflection, wondering who the lovely woman was on its surface. Tendrils of dark hair curled at her nape and temple. The dress revealed enough of her olive skin to tempt without putting her on vulgar display. The bodice fell gracefully from one shoulder, over her full breasts, and cinched at her waist. The skirt cascaded to the floor and, as she walked, the hem fluttered like her own ethereal cloud of blue. With each step, the side slits allowed a long, muscular leg to peek through before ducking shyly behind the folds of the fabric.

Jo had to admit K’Ahla and the other women had accomplished the impossible. She was beautiful.

As she made her way to Lux’s room, eager to see his reaction to her transformation, she tried not to ruin their miracle with unnecessary movement. She was accustomed to clomping around in fatigues and boots, giving no regard to how her hair looked or how she moved her body. One wrong turn or a carelessly placed foot could ruin all their hard work.

She turned the corner and saw his door was ajar. Her heart hammered in her chest, her inner soldier immediately at arms. Had someone entered and killed him? Had the despot brother achieved revenge without raising a single alarm? She tiptoed through the opening, her hand at her thigh where her knife was strapped. Even for such a formal occasion as tonight’s ceremony, she was not about to go completely unarmed. Though what she saw next did a damn good job of it.

Lux was alone. And alive. And naked but for a skirt of wispy scarves held low on his waist by an intricate, gem-studded silver belt. A wide collar of matching gems glittered at his neck. What was left was a long, wide expanse of smooth, silvery skin filled to rippling with sleek muscles. Muscles she’d explored with her hands several times. Muscles which could kill in a flash, yet had made her body sing so divinely. Her mouth watered and her body heated. She’d never seen a man in a skirt before, and knew many planets where such a sight was a death wish. Had anyone asked her opinion before this moment, she would have assumed the clothing choice would render the man effeminate.

The vision before her was anything but.

Lux was all man, and one hundred percent sexy. Like Klorakian architecture, he was a perfect meld of power and elegance, fluid grace and fierce strength. He leaned back against the wall, an arm slung casually over his head, the other resting on the exposed thigh of a leg propped against the wall at his back for support. The pose was both relaxed and seductive, an upright version of how he might look in bed after lovemaking. What would it be like to kneel before him, part the scarves like a curtain, and take him into her mouth?

Fire burst in her nerve endings at the thought.

Ava’s Bio:

Ava Cuvay writes out of this world romance featuring sassy heroines, often-alien-but-always-sexy heroes, and an alcoholic beverage or two... Set in a galaxy far, far away. Think "Star Wars" meets "Firefly", without Jar-Jar Binks, and with a lot more heat.

She resides in central Indiana with a hubby who makes her laugh and kiddos who are growing up way too quickly. She enjoys the world of wine and spirits, amusement park thrill rides, and laughing at her own foibles (yeah, she laughs a lot).

She believes life is too short to surround yourself with negative people, and Han Solo shot first. When not writing, Ava is thinking about writing. Or wine. And she’s always thinking about bacon.

Look for “Love and the Corps” Book two of The Heart Nebula Series. To be published by the end of the month!

www.AvaCuvay.com

Ava Cuvay Amazon Author Page

DRESS UP/DRESS DOWN WITH MARCIA JAMES

It's my pleasure to welcome Marcia James to the Living After Midnight Blog, to tell us about the meaningful attire worn in her novella, "Nothing But a Hound Dog."

ADOPT, DON'T SHOP: My Characters Proudly Wear Their Convictions

Cindi Landon, the heroine of my novella, "Nothing But a Hound Dog," is the director of the animal shelter in Jenkins, a small North Carolina town. As a hands-on, pro-animal advocate, she works alongside her staff. That means dressing in jeans and shelter t-shirts. One day, she might be working with dogs rescued from a hoarding situation. The next day, she might be meeting with families looking to find the perfect pet. There's nothing she likes more than to rescue and then place a homeless pet in its forever home.

After a night of raucous partying following a rodeo and concert in Jenkins, country music bad boy (and the hero of my novella), Ryan "Rowdy"Gates, is sentenced to community service at the shelter. Like the rest of the staff and volunteers, he wears jeans and shelter t-shirts while he helps out—whether it's cleaning dog runs or bottle-feeding an abandoned Basset Hound puppy he names Buddy. The shelter t-shirts sport different pro-adoption slogans, which start out as abstract concepts to Ryan, then become his conviction after he witnesses pets living on the streets or being surrendered to the shelter.

While researching my novella (which is the third in my "Klein's K-9s Service Dog" series and currently featured in the Love Notes ebook box set), I found quite a few wonderful, pro-adoption slogans, including, "Rescue: It's Not Just a Verb. It's a Promise."; "Paws to Love a Rescue Pet."; and "The Best Things in Life are Rescued." Being pro-adoption myself, I was happy to include many of the slogans in my novella. In fact, I have rescue dogs, cats, and the occasional pot-bellied pig in all of my books. These fictional pets add so much to the plot and reveal in my two-legged characters a love for animals that makes readers root for them to find their happily ever after.

Of course, "Nothing But a Hound Dog" has a happy ending, with Cindi offering Ryan something he's never had—a home, a family, and unconditional love. And, of course, they adopt Buddy the Basset Hound.

"Nothing But a Hound Dog" Excerpt:

When the puppy was sleeping soundly, Shauna, the shelter's volunteer supervisor, stood to go. "Why don't you stay here and hold him, so he'll know he's not alone. The best thing for this little boy is food and sleep. And while you're sitting here, think of a name for him." Shauna left, heading down the hall toward the dog runs.

Ryan looked at the puppy. Somehow the usual dog names—Spot, Rover, and the like—didn't seem right. So he gently rocked the puppy while he considered other names. He began to hum, something he often did when working out a problem. Then he started softly singing the song Elvis had made famous, "Hound Dog."

The puppy had been twitching, as though having a bad dream, but he settled down when he heard the song. Obviously, he had good taste in music. Ryan smiled. He could name the puppy Elvis, but it didn't seem to fit.

Ryan segued into Buddy Holly's "Everyday," a personal favorite. The little guy's mouth opened in a doggie grin. Maybe he should name him after the singer?

He stopped singing and said, "Buddy."

The puppy's ears twitched. Each time he said the name, he got the same reaction. So it was settled. Ryan christened him Buddy the Basset Hound.

Cindi stood in the clinic doorway, watching Ryan sing softly to the poor little thing. It was so poignant that her heart swelled and tears pricked her eyes. The tough kid from high school had grown into an admirable man who could gently rock a puppy and—according to what Shauna had told her—befriend and feed Andy, a troubled teenager who volunteered at the shelter.

God help her, she might be falling in love with Ryan.

She doubted he would appreciate her getting misty-eyed over him, so she simply listened until she got her emotions under control. He was singing the Buddy Holly song, "Words of Love." Cindi was a sucker for 1950s' pop music, so she joined in.

Startled by her voice, Ryan stopped and blushed, actually blushed. "Uh, the puppy settles down when I sing to him."

"He must be a fan of oldies, like me." She sat next to Ryan and gazed at the puppy. "He looks better already. Did he eat yet?"

"I bottle-fed him with Shauna's help. And I named him Buddy."

Buddy. It was perfect for the little pup. Suddenly, she remembered why she was there and stood again. "Speaking of eating, I came to get you. Your massive order from the Asian fusion place on Main has arrived. If you want any before the shelter hordes scarf it down, you better come with me."

Holding the puppy in a towel, Ryan got up from the chair without disturbing the Basset Hound's sleep. "I need to take Buddy with me. Shauna says he can hear my heart."

A warmth spread through her chest, and Cindi turned to the doorway before her face revealed what she was feeling. She was a sucker for a man who cared for animals.

Buy links for "Nothing But a Hound Dog" in the Love Notes box set:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1SFYWOA

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1PvSMdq Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/1ZWZ151 Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/1RHjuWX Itunes: http://apple.co/1nhJc7p B&N: http://bit.ly/1TdXXom Kobo: http://bit.ly/1Sa9pAr

Author Bio & Links:

Marcia James finaled in eleven Romance Writers of America contests before selling her first contemporary romance. Her releases include Sex & the Single Therapist (the first in a comic romantic mystery series) and the "Klein's K-9s Service Dogs" contemporary romance series. She is a national and international ebook bestseller, who writes hot, humorous romances featuring heroines you can root for, heroes to die for, and funny dogs.

In her eclectic career, Marcia has shot submarine training videos, organized celebrity-filled nonprofit events and had her wedding covered by People Magazine. After years of dealing with such sexy topics as how to safely install traffic lights, she is enjoying “researching” and plotting her novels' steamy love scenes with her husband and hero of many years.

Website: www.MarciaJames.net

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