Lost Souls, Found Genre #MFRWAuthor

There have been many books that have influenced me over the years, each for a different reason. Some were non-fiction books on the craft of writing, business development, and managing life situations. These are, of course, designed to impact your life. One book of fiction that most directly influenced me is Lost Souls by Poppy Z. Brite.

I received Lost Souls in 1992 as a gift, the first of many novels given to me by someone I love. Lost Souls was published by Abyss, an imprint of Dell Publishing. Abyss published primarily horror fiction and I depended on that Abyss logo when I shopped for books. It never let me down. I was heartbroken when it disappeared.

Lost Souls did more than introduce me to my favorite publisher, it introduced me to vampires in a way they had never been presented before. There was still an element of horror in that some of them were vicious and deadly, but mostly they were beautiful, sexy creatures. Later this style of gothic horror, in my opinion, evolved into paranormal romance and to urban fantasy, where romance is typically secondary to the main story.

Zilla and Nothing (the main characters) introduced me to the possibility of new worlds with new rules. Boys loved boys, humans desired non-humans, heroes could be flawed, rape and incest questioned the norms. And of course there was music. Lots of music. My love of this book led me to another novel by Brite, Drawing Blood. Later, I was drawn to the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series.Vampires and other supernatural creatures walked among us, lived and worked with us, and had lives with purpose beyond being the “boogeyman”. Between 1992 and now there have been many incarnations of the vampire story.

Experts periodically tell us that genres with supernatural elements are dead, but a stroll through a bookstore or Amazon indicates there are still plenty of people, like me, who are looking for that sexy, supernaturally dangerous hero. Which is why I write urban fantasy. My love of horror and fantasy merged perfectly.

And I can make my world whatever I want it to be.

My Choices Brought Me Here #MFRWAuthor

Life is filled with roads untraveled. Decisions I’ve made to go left instead of right, north instead of south, have brought me to where I am—who I am—today. What if I’d made different choices? Would I be a different person? Maybe. Maybe not. There are too many “what if” questions to know for sure. That being said, the answer to the question, “What would I do if I didn’t write?” isn't a stretch when one considers I still have a “day job”. Two, in fact. In my work life,I always find myself in some type of social service. Whether it was as a social worker, a professor, or CEO of a non-profit, the emphasis has always been on working closely with people, helping them to acquire the skills, information and resources needed to live their best lives possible.

My human service work isn’t as disconnected from writing as one might assume. I’ve learned to patiently get to know people, to see their lives from varying points of view instead of making easy snap judgements about them due to their circumstances. This probably explains my tendency to write about and cheer for the underdog, as well as create rich, three- dimensional characters.

None of this means, however, that I don’t dream a myriad of what-if scenarios. An exercise in The Artist Way by Julia Cameron asks the reader to write down 5 occupations he or she would like to have. Here’s my list: Rock star, dancer, rock star’s wife, rock star manager, or rich man’s kept woman. I guess I zigged when I should have zagged.

What’s your what-if list?

It's a Little Like Giving Birth #MFRWauthor

People ask me all the time if I write myself into my books. Yes and no. Most of my characters are male so I don’t particularly identify with them other than finding them attractive and, for my heroes, likeable. My ego may show up in a female character at some point, probably more as someone I'd like to be rather than who I am. That being said, I’m not sure that it is possible to create without having myself in my writing to a significant amount. Getting a book to print is a little like giving birth: Your DNA is in the mix with your blood, sweat and tears. And it's all fun and games until you have to painstakingly squeeze out actual words that you  hope other people will find as wonderful as you do.

More to the point, like DNA is passed onto one's children, my interests and choices are infused in my stories. For example, on a simple level my characters—or at least my heroes—will look and behave in a manner I find appealing. My heroes are either significantly short or exceptionally tall. None of those average height guys for me. They'll all have long hair because I like long hair. Their clothing may change to conform to the story but it will still be something I find attractive. So my preferences and desires will always be present.

In terms of personality and behavior, the protagonists in my books are unlikely heroes who have to go the extra mile to prove they are worthy. I’m not sure that means anything more than their struggle is huge (and therefore more interesting to me). I would have a difficult time writing about a gorgeous billionaire who has to fight to get ahead. Kudos to those who can.

Because it's so important in my life, music will usually play a role in my stories. If nothing else, a minor character will be a musician but most often it will be a significant element in the setting or in the life of a main character. I frequently get ideas for stories from music. I am sure that the mood of the music I play while writing affects the words on the page. Emotional music makes for an emotional story. Sexy music…well, you know.

There is also the aspect of the time and effort that goes into writing these stories. If I'm tired and pressed for time, my writing echoes a negative feel and drags on. In revisions, I can effectively moderate this tone. On the other hand, if I'm excited about the story or something else in my life, my writing takes on a lighter, happier, or more optimistic tone.

I dare say people die when I am feeling angry about something. #writerprivilege

Recollections #MFRWAuthors

I have heard people claim to remember events from their childhoods, some clearly as far back as their toddler years. Maybe they do. I don’t.

What I have are flashes, pictures that come to me. Sometimes I know their context, sometimes I don’t even know that.

My earliest memory is of me as a preschooler sitting at window at the front of our apartment, waiting for my grandmother to come home because she always brought me a treat of some kind. I turned and watched her walk up the stairs and down the hall and wondered why she didn’t speak to me. Then I heard the door open and her walk up the stairs and greet me.

Weird, right?

The apartment was across from a grand hospital that had once been someone’s home. I remember my sister and me crawling under the fence to play on the grounds of the hospital. I loved that park with its soft grass and towering oak trees. Eventually the hospital was turned into apartments and the land leveled for parking.

We didn't live in that apartment long because strange things kept happening to people in the family. I remember a dream I had there when I was four or five, and it still gives me the creeps.

I’m currently working through the book, “It’s Never Too Late to Begin Again” by Julia Cameron. Thanks to some of the exercises, I have discovered that if I set aside the time to think about and explore the fragment of a memory, one image leads to another and more of my childhood is revealed, or perhaps imagined. Unfortunately ,still nothing from my toddler years.

How far back do your memories take you?

'Tis Always the Season

I have friends who say they would like nothing better than to have static seasons, preferably in a warm climate. I can't imagine being happy with that. There are things I don't like about each season but why deprive myself of the good parts? It will be difficult to limit myself to the best part of each season as there are so many. As we head into Autumn I'm excited to be able to go outside again. The temperature is cool and nature is putting on a show of amazing colors. The beach is deserted, and the amusements, while on a shorter schedule, are still operating. And the holiday season of Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas gives us something to celebrate.

Then there is winter. I love snow. I love watching it snow. I love playing in the snow with my partner and our dogs. I even like shoveling snow unless it is the 3 footers we sometimes get. The earth is beautiful, quiet, and serene.

My favorite part of Spring are the colors on the mountains of home. The tender greens mix with redbuds and dogwoods painting a picture no mere human could create.

And finally, summer. The best part of summer is that my partner works less so is home more. We manage to take the occasional vacation and day trips if we watch the weather carefully. Too hot? Too humid? Too much. We use those sweaty days to go to the movies or the bookstore.

I used to be the type of person who complains about the weather constantly. One day I realized I was missing out on a lot of great stuff being so grumpy. In every season there's a reason to smile.

The Way to My Heart is--Hold on, I'm Not That Easy #MFRWAuthor

I admit it. In some regards I'm a tough nut to crack. I don't impress easily and I surely do not trust easily. However, there are a few traits that I find appealing, characteristics that will touch my heart immediately and lower my guard. Probably the easiest way to my heart is showing gentleness and compassion for animals. Watching a man romp with his pit bull is nice, but there is something about big men with little dogs that makes me smile. A photo of Seth Rollins, a WWE Superstar, playing with his Pomeranian simply melts me. Roman Reigns (WWE Superstar and #manofmydreams) surrounded by chihuahua’s in Santa garb make me swoon.

The internet is full of videos of ordinary men who who take extraordinary risk to their safety and sometimes their lives to rescue trapped or abused animals, or, as we've seen recently, rescue abandoned animals in hurricanes.These are true alpha males, in my opinion.

Which I suppose leads into another trait—competence.  Men who excel at what they do and have confidence in their abilities are sexy as hell. Sometimes, these men come across as arrogant, but a bit of arrogance can be forgiven when the expertise is indisputable. Case in point: #theartistforeverknownasPrince

On the other hand, taking everything, including oneself, too seriously is a total turn off. I'm drawn to folks with a sense of humor.  Like the Rock. He's smart, gorgeous, and has the body of a god. If anyone would have a right to be over the top arrogant, it's him. But he doesn't come across that way. Didn't he once play the tooth fairy, tutu and all? 

Finally, I'm drawn to those who are adventurous. No one wants to do the same thing all the time, no matter how much you might like that thing. The world is too large and too varied. That being said, I never tire of music and going to concerts. Give me an talented musician with a sense of humor and a love for animals and I'm a happy, happy girl. 

Their First Kiss #SexySnippets

Today's 7 sentence sexy snippet is from House of the Rising Son. It's the first kiss between Cheyenne (the hero and incubus) and Alexander, the human who is inexplicably drawn to him. Well, at least inexplicable to Alexander.

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He wanted Cheyenne--the surprise was it never occurred to him he’d have the chance to do anything about it. But here he was, looking into the eyes of the person he’d fantasized about for months, the person who’d already set his life on edge. How many chances would he get if he blew this one and then regretted it?

He tilted his head, leaned down and pressed his lips against the smaller man’s. Cheyenne kissed him back, parting Alexander’s lips with his tongue and slipping inside.

The hunger that Alexander had buried for so long ignited in the kiss and melted away any lingering doubt. This felt more than right—kissing Cheyenne felt like home.

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From Novel to the Big Screen: *Meh*

The blog hop topic this week is my "favorite movie made from a book". It would have been so much easier to write about favorite books that had been ruined by being made into a movie. I'm not generally a fan.

One of my earliest favorite movies is The Haunting (1963) based on The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson. It was a faithful adaptation as far as the technology of the day allowed. Now, 54 years later, I still consider it the scariest movie I've ever seen. I was thrilled when it was available on Amazon a few years ago.

Another favorite of my youth was the Conan series by Robert E. Howard, which appeared in the 1930's. Three movies have been made from it. I liked them all but have to admit the one with Jason Momoa as Conan is my favorite because, of course, Jason.

The movies from Salem's Lot and The Shining by Stephen King were also fairly effective. Usually, however, movies from books fail (in my opinion) because they choose actors who don't quite fit or change important factors. One example is a television show made from an urban fantasy series by Tanya Huff. The TV version turned my favorite male character into a very irritating young woman, and "updated" the vampire's career from romance novelist to graphic artist. The same is true for the Janet Evanovich movie based on her Stephanie Plum series. I don't know who those people were, but they were definitely not Stephanie, Morelli and Ranger.

The takeaway on this is that if you make a movie based on a vastly popular book, perhaps you need to put some thought into why it's so popular before you consider any changes.

My Life: Laughing Out Loud

I've been known to embarrass myself by breaking into laughter at inappropriate moments. Who doesn't enjoy laughing? I have laughed so hard at movies that my sides hurt. In fact, I have laughed through movies that apparently the rest of the audience did not find funny, like Tremors. Anything by Kevin Hart is sure to be a hit. I love Katt Williams even though his specials are bleeped so much it can be hard to follow his stories. Offbeat humor is one of the things that make my favorite books just that-favorites. Having read Smoke and Mirrors (Tanya Huff) at least 20 times, I still occasionally laugh out loud.

Those things are typical sources of laughter. After all, they are designed to be funny. But my day-to-day life is hilarious.

My dog, Toby, brightens even dreary days. He came to my partner and me in November when my elderly aunt died. He is 13 pounds of insecurity, exacerbated by my other dogs that weigh in at 40-50 pounds, one with her own anxiety issues.

Toby's feet never touch the ground except, well, the ground when we go out. Otherwise he moves from sofa to chair to bed, which keep him at more or less eye level with the girls. Because they are all so sensitive, I have to treat them exactly the same. Toby came with a bed, our girls had to have beds like his. He had a coat because he’s tiny and he freezes; they had to have coats. Chloe gets medicine for a couple of issues so Molly and Toby get fake pills so they don't feel left out. You see the amusement. I’m sure our dog sitters think we’re nuts.

In the past week, Toby has surprised us with something. He can bark.

Scream and shriek might be more accurate.

For 6 months he’s kept his vocal hysterics to himself but I suppose he now feels completely at home. His screams can be heard all over the neighborhood. That is not an exaggeration; neighbors have asked about him. It starts when our car pulls into the driveway. The fact that we are outside in plain view is the only defense we have against claims of abuse. The screeches continue until we are in the house and they are replaced by leaps and digging at our clothes.

I know that it probably irritates the neighbors, especially when we get home in the wee hours of the morning, but he always makes me laugh. How can you not love something that is so happy to even hear you that he can’t contain his joy in a regular bark?

Do you have something you laugh about even though you probably shouldn't?

Social Media, My New Playground

Over the past few years social media has exploded with ways to connect to friends and family.  As a marketing tool, they were economic and direct ways to interact with your readers. But there are too many to use them all effectively. Marketing gurus always advise a new one along with ways to use them. These are also ways for me to stalk, er, follow folks I'm interested in. Roman Reigns. Jason Momoa. The Winchester boys. But truthfully, no one has time to use them all. I do spend time on Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, and Instagram. I try to check them everyday but sometimes that just isn't possible. I also blog. Obviously.

Pinterest Is my favorite. I go there to find clothes for my characters and sometimes the characters themselves. I have found their houses and apartments complete with floor plans. I spend many wonderful hours lost on Pinterest.

And that's the trouble. If I am not careful Pinterest, and all the other forms of social media, can take up too much of my time and there is none left for writing. I can easily justify the time we spend since we must have a platform. That is one of the first questions prospective agents and editors ask, and if you cant show them a decent following then you may not be worth their risk.

It's like the dog chasing its tail.You spend all your time on social media to maintain connections with people who like your work, which does you no good unless you make time to write your book. Finding balance is the key.

But I do like to play online. Come find me, and we'll play together. www.pinterest.com/trevannr

#EggcerptExchange: Lyndi Lamont's How To Woo… A Reluctant Bride #MFRWAuthor

Can an ancient Hindu sex manual turn an arranged marriage into a love match? That’s the story question posed by How To Woo… A Reluctant Bride, a sexy historical short story set in Victorian London.

Blurb:

A marriage contract, nothing more...until darkly handsome Evan Channing and demure Lydia Blatchford meet. Yet the rules are simple for an arrangement such as theirs. There should be no misunderstanding, no illusions of anything more. But the rules are about to change.

Lydia wants the kind of love and romance she reads about in books. Fortunately, she hasn't specified which book, and Evan has a copy of Richard Burton's new translation of the Kama Sutra, with its ancient wisdom on love and courtship. Evan sets out to win his high-born bride, blending seductive heat with exotic lessons in love-making.

Lydia is prepared to tolerate this man she’s been sold to, but his scorching kisses send her pulses racing. Can an arranged marriage lead to love?

(Previously published under the title Love… By the Book)

Available from Amazon, Apple iBooks, Barnes & Noble/Nook, Kobo and Smashwords.

Also available as part of Romance Super Bundle II: Second Chances, on sale for 99 cents. Available now at Amazon, BN/Nook, iBooks, Kobo and Smashwords.

Excerpt:

“But won’t society think it odd we married in such haste?”

She looked him in the eye. “Let me make one thing clear. I do not give a fig for what society thinks. If you supposed you were marrying a social butterfly, let me banish that notion right now.”

He smiled at her. “Harry said you were sensible, but this surprises me. I’m happy to agree to a short engagement.” He stepped closer, towering over her. “The sooner I can make you mine, the better.”

Her heart pounded and her breath caught as he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers for but a second before backing away. She drew in a deep breath. Her first kiss and it had been over almost before it was begun. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

“Shall we go inside and discuss the wedding plans with your parents?”

“Not yet. There is something else I’d like to say.” It was now or never.

“Yes, my dear, what is it?”

She licked her lips then plunged ahead. “I know how these things work. Arranged marriages, that is. I won’t expect fidelity from you.”

His shocked expression surprised her. “Is that what you think, Lydia? That I’m marrying you with the intention of cheating on you?”

“Perhaps not now,” she said. “But in a few years… It’s not as if ours is a love match. I won’t cut up a fuss if you decide to take a mistress. As long as you are discreet.”

“How very... sophisticated of you,” he said, his tone dry enough to parch a desert.

She took a deep breath before continuing. “And once I’ve produced the requisite heir and spare, I assume I’ll be free to seek my pleasure elsewhere.”

The thunderous look on his face startled her and she stepped back.

“You will do no such thing,” he said fiercely, reaching for her. “Ours may not be a love match now, but I fully intend to see it turns into one.”

With that, he pulled her into his embrace, trapping her arms between them as his encircled her shoulders and waist. Covering her mouth with his, he kissed her with a heady combination of passion and anger. Her resistance crumbled in the face of his onslaught. She clutched at his lapels and returned his kiss, even parting her lips when his tongue probed them. Overwhelmed by the sensations his lips provoked, she let her eyes drift shut as she clung to him.

When he let her go, he was still visibly upset. “There will be no more talk of infidelity. Have I made myself clear, Lydia?”

Author Bio:

Lyndi Lamont is the racy alter ego of author Linda McLaughlin, who writes historical and Regency Romance. Since becoming Lyndi Lamont, she has discovered that writing sexy romance is a license to be naughty, at least between the pages of a book.

Find her online at:

Website/Blog: http://lindalyndi.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/LyndiLamont

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/LyndiLamont

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+LyndiLamont/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/LyndiLamont

What Happens in Bangkok by Daryl Devoré #erotic #romance #Eggcerpt

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What Happens in Bangkok by Daryl Devoré

Blurb

To save Darien's life his brother asks, "Can you walk in high heels?"

Erika Bailey, owner/manager of a drag queen club in Bangkok, Thailand has happily settled into all aspects of her new life, except for her lack of a love life. When a new diva auditions, Erika is bewildered over her instant attraction to the blond God, Apollo.

Darien Scott is on vacation after a world tour and mistakenly figures the safest place to be is at The Black Dragon with the head of a Triad. When the club is hit, Darien is the only person to get out alive. Now   he's running from the police and a Triad. Mistake number 1.

Disguised as a drag queen, he's hired by Erika, but falls hard for his new boss, then struggles with not coming clean with her. Mistake number 2.

Can he fix his mistakes and find a life filled with love or is he headed straight for mistake number 3?

Eggcerpt

Erik leaned on the balcony railing and stared down at the crowd of patrons partying in her club. They were laughing, and buying over-priced and watered-down booze, just the way it was supposed to be. The strobe lights bounced off the glitter and tinsel, adding blinding sparkles to the atmosphere. Overhead, four massive disco balls turned, spitting out flashes of light, randomly illuminating either patrons or the leopard print wallpapered walls. And best of all, Bangkok was a half a world away from home, which couldn't be more perfect.

She'd made it through her second year. She hadn't expected to jump straight into an owner/managerial position, but the opening was there and she grabbed it. The learning curve had been steep at first, although she now felt like she had her feet on the floor and her head squarely on her shoulders. Life wasn't perfect, but it was good. She took a deep breath and enjoyed a sense of calmness.

"Hey, Boss Lady."

She shifted to look at Sebastian, her stage manager. His chest muscles bulged under his white t-shirt, the rips in his jeans hinted at strong thighs, and the ever present headset rested on his scruffy brown hair. He sat on one hip and flipped a hand to point behind him. "It's just cray cray back there. Shangri-Lay's havin' a hissy fit."

Stifling the urge to pound her forehead on the brass railing, Erik asked, "What's the little diva's issue this time?"

"Well, she's screamin' somethin' 'bout Ra-chell took her pink scarf and the new eye shadow that matches it. Ra-chell says she didn't. She bought 'em this afternoon when she was out shoppin'. You know Ra-chell 'n shoppin'. She gets a paycheck and it's gone. But no way Shangri-Lay's gonna believe her. She's threatenin' to rip out her hair extensions."

Erik placed her palms on the cool railing and pushed upright. "Lead on."

She followed the harassed stage manager through the club, the pounding bass drowning out anything more he might have said to her. In the evening gown laden, makeup strewn topsy-turviness of the dressing room chaos ruled. Two partially dressed people rolled on the floor, entangled in each other's arms and legs, with fingers gripping hair and voices screeching. The other performers stood by and watched, cheering their favorite.

Erik grabbed a nearby glass, tossed the contents in the sink and filled it with cold water. She pushed her way through the crowd and flung the contents on the fighters.

"Ah! My makeup."

"You bitch!"

"Excuse me?" Erik lifted an eyebrow.

Buy Links

eXtasy Books

Amazon

Amazon Canada

KOBO

Book Strand

Bio

Daryl Devoré lives in an in old farmhouse in Ontario, with her husband, a black cat named Licorice and some house ghosts. Daryl loves to take long walks up her country road, or snowshoe across the back acres or kayak along the St. Lawrence River. Yoga is her non-writing passion. She has touched a moon rock, a mammoth and a meteorite. She's been deep in the ocean in a submarine, flown high over Niagara Falls in a helicopter and used the ladies room in a royal palace. Life's an adventure and Daryl's having fun living it.

Where can fans find you?

Blog - https://daryldevore.blogspot.ca

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Daryl-Devore/280168402052520

Twitter - http://twitter.com/daryldevore

Google+ - https://plus.google.com/u/0/107866370365154406917

GoodReads Author Page - http://www.goodreads.com/DarylDevore