Friday Fun!! The talented LYNDA BAILEY!!

The Rougher Side of Romance

Huge thanks to my gal-pal, Jenn, for hosting me today and for previewing my upcoming release, On the Corner of Heartache and Hopeful—KIRA.

So what do you think the rougher side of romance means? If you answered BDSM, you’d be right.

BDSM. That’s bondage (and discipline), dominance (and submission), sadism and masochism. (Got your attention, didn’t I? <G>)

I believe it’s safe to assume that the recent rise in the popularity of this sub-genre of romance can be directly attributed to the 50 Shades of Gray phenomenon. (I, myself, have never read the books.) Please understand, though, that BDSM stories have been around for-e-ver. Much longer than the Shades series. In fact, years ago I read a submission for a national contest that had serious BDSM elements. At the time I was shocked, and more than a bit intrigued. <wink> If you’re a fan of Shades, I would strongly encourage you to check out a few BDSM authors that I have read. Delilah Devlin and Qwillia Rain.

As a writer of erotic romance, it seemed a natural transition for me to broaden my romantic horizons to include at least some aspects of BDSM into my stories. I started with MIC, the first novella in my Heartache and Hopeful series. (Available on Amazon. com. http://amzn.com/B009RE0JKG) Nothing too hot and heavy happened—other than the sex, of course! But I did have a scene where Scott fulfills Mic’s fantasy of being tied up while making love. In KIRA, I delved a bit deeper and gave my heroine a spanking fetish. I plan to go deeper still (no pun intended—really!) in my next novella, GRACE.

If I’ve learned just one thing in my research of BDSM, it’s that you cannot make any assumptions about this lifestyle or the people who live it. These folks are just as committed to their partners, love just as deeply, hurt just as badly as anyone else. Because I’m a non-participant in the lifestyle, I wanted to make damn sure my characters’ goals and motivations were believable. The last thing I wanted was insult those who live the BDSM life. Hopefully I came at least kinda close to accomplishing that objective.   

So what do you think about BDSM? Does the idea titillate or repulse you? Share your thoughts for the chance to win a $10 Amazon gift card.

Also stop by my blog to read the first chapter of On the Corner of Heartache and Hopeful—KIRA. www.lyndabailey.net   

Thanks again to my BFF, Jenn, for having me here today!

BLURB:

Kira Grant, daughter of a multi-mega millionaire, leaves her over-protective father—and her sizeable heritance—for the simple life in Tatum, NE. She’s also leaving behind her sordid urges. Or so she thought…

Hunter Rice has only one goal: clear his name of doping charges and climb back into the ring where he belongs. And if he has to “convince” some wealthy mogul’s daughter she should move back home in order to reach that goal, so be it.

Lives, like streets, can run parallel or they can cross. Sometimes those crossroads lead to heartache or they lead to hope.

EXCERPT: (Please note! This is NOT a PG13 selection. Mature audience only.)

Hunter leaned forward until he was an inch from her face. “And just what is going to happen between us?”

In answer, Kira unbelted her robe. It dropped to the floor. So did his jaw.

She did indeed have on fishnet stockings that were attached to a black garter belt. She also wore a black corset, ribbed with a shiny, purple fabric. Her breasts strained against the purple lace edging the top of the corset with each of her breathes. By the wisp of material barely concealing her mound, he doubted she wore a thong. Had to be a g-string. Though Hunter had seen Kira buck naked, this getup was damn near sexier than her being in her—altogether.

He said nothing for a long time, not that he could talk. His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth and his mind was equally stuck. He just feasted on her appearance. Over and over and over again. Thoughts, explicitly carnal thoughts and lots of them, filled his head. And his dick.

Finally, his gaze meandered back to hers. Uncertainty etched her features. He almost regretted ogling her. Almost.

Hunter swallowed twice then found his voice. “Okay. You’ve got my attention.” In more ways than one as his erection pressed against his zipper. “Mind telling me what the hell is going on?”

“This is going on.” She walked to the bed and flung the blanket away from a corner.

Stepping closer to see what she’d revealed, Hunter’s gut reeled and his stiff cock hardened even further. There was a ping pong paddle and a wooden spoon, both covered with what looked to be felt cloth. They reminded him of the BDSM toys found at the back of sleazy men’s magazines. He rifled his gaze to hers. “You are not spanking me with those things.”

She picked up the spoon and whacked it against her palm. The sound reverberated at the base of his spine. “By staying, you agreed to do whatever I want, remember?” Whack. “But relax.” Whack. Whack. “These aren’t for you. They’re for me.”

Friday Fun: Meet Author Lynda Bailey + Give*Away!!!

Please help me welcome my dear friend LYNDA BAILEY!! She's not only a fellow historical author but a fellow 2010  Golden Heart® finalist !

For those of you who love Western Historical her new novel WILDFLOWER is a must buy! 

Learn all about Linda at her website but come on back and leave a comment for your chance to win a an e-copy of your choice from Lynda's titles :)

JJ~  How ya doing, Lynda?

LB~ Great, Jenn! Thanks so much for having me here today. It’s always fun to hang out with you.

JJ~ First things first, love the cover of your new book, Wildflower. Who did it for you? Jenn winks.

LB~ Oh, gee. Lynda winks back. Let me think. That would be the fabulously talented Kim Killion of Hot Damn Designs. Ever heard of her?

JJ~ Laughs. I think I may have heard the name once or twice. Tell us a little bit about your story.

LB~ Wildflower is a total “ugly duckling” story. Set in post Civil War in Indian Territory (which is modern day Oklahoma) Matilda, aka Matt, Townsend has grown up working as a cowhand on her father’s ranch. Her mother died when she was a little girl so she’s had no feminine influences in her life. Matt doesn’t even own a dress. Of course, she longs to be more than just another ranch hand. The question is, will she achieve that dream?

JJ~ Sounds interesting. I gotta ask, though, why Indian Territory?

LB~ It was kinda a protest decision as well as a practical one. Tons of historical westerns are set in Texas or Wyoming or California, but very few are set (at least the ones I’ve read) on the Midwest prairie. Having grown up on the prairie, so to speak, it was easier for me to write about that rather than someplace I’d never lived.

JJ~ So when did you first write Wildflower?

LB~ Ohhh, good question there. Wildflower was the third book I ever finished, like maybe twelve years ago. Of course, then it wasn’t titled Wildflower. It was first titled Washita Woman (for the actual Fort Washita in Indian Territory). Then I think I called it Washita Wildflower, then Winter Wildflower. Finally I settled on just plain Wildflower.

JJ~ Why the emphasis on wildflowers?

LB~ Matt always smells like flowers, even in the winter.

JJ~ Huh. What gives on the huge gap between writing your book and publishing it?

LB~ Well, back in the day, I was still learning the ins and outs of storytelling. As I became a (hopefully) better writer, WF went through rewrite after rewrite. When I finally thought she was ready for primetime, no one was too interested in historical romances. So she got tucked away with the dust bunnies under my bed while I pursued other projects. Once I learned western romances were making a bit of a comeback – and were turning erotic, I dusted WF off, spiffed and sexed her up a bit, then entered her in the 2010 Golden Heart®. I’m both honored and humbled that I was a finalist that year. Guess you could say Wildflower is an example of never giving up.

JJ~ True that. Where can interested folks find Wildflower to buy?

LB~ Wildflower is available exclusively through the KDP Select program. Here’s the link. http://amzn.com/B008KFBYXE

JJ~ Anything else you want to add?

LB~ One lucky person will get his/her choice of any one of my titles. Just leave a comment, along with your email addy. Sorry, at this time I can only send a PDF copy. Thanks Jenn for hosting me today!

BLURB:

Indian Territory 1882

She made a deathbed promise.

Matilda Townsend has always dreamed of escaping Indian Territory and finding the acceptance she never had with her own father. As he lies dying from a fever, he asks her to marry so she’ll be safe. She’s then torn between winning her father’s approval and being free.

He gained an unwilling wife.

Logan Cartwright has loved Matt since he first started working for her father. Now the old man is dying and wants him to marry her. Logan knows how much Matt wants to leave. Can he set aside his dream for hers?  

A contest of wills sparks passion.

While Matilda clings to her refusal to share her husband’s bed, Logan coaxes her into exploring the other many and varied ways a man and wife can please each other. Even as their passion blazes hotter than a prairie fire, they must confront a danger that threatens to destroy the ranch and divide them forever.

EXCERPT:

Like a June bug on a hot skillet, Matilda Grace Townsend couldn’t stay still.

Every time she sat, nervous energy forced her to stand. She paced the short distance to the window and drew aside the faded calico curtain only to spin on her heel and retrace her steps before her gaze could fix on anything outside. Her boot heels clacked a steady beat on the wooden floorboards as her denim pants swished in time to the macabre tune. The fire crackled at her back, but she didn’t feel the warmth.

Only cold dread.

She darted her gaze to her father’s closed bedroom door. Again. Influenza or no, Pa should’ve cussed a blue streak at Doc Bingham then tossed the good doctor out on his ear for being so meddlesome.

Yet it was quiet. Too quiet. Like that awful stillness right before her mother died. She might have only been four at the time, but she remembered.

Anxiety churned in her stomach. She clenched her hands into tight fists, her stubby nails stinging her palms. Lordy, she wanted to hit something. Someone.

She glared at that door. She’d give them to the count of five and then she was going in, her father’s temper be damned. Might do him good to get riled up.

The sound of a door opening whipped her around. Logan Cartwright barreled into the house on a strong gust of wind. He shouldered the door shut against the wicked March weather.

The sight of the tall, blond-haired Kentuckian quieted her ragged nerves and thawed some of the iciness in her chest. “What are you doing here? I thought you were riding out to the herd.”

He pulled the well-worn Stetson from his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “I was.” He nudged his chin toward her father’s bedroom. “But Chuck said your pa wanted to see me.”

Her eyebrows knitted. “Why would Pa send for you?”

“I don’t know. Figured it was important, though. He wouldn’t have sent Chuck otherwise.” He hung his lambskin-lined coat on a peg beside the door. “What’d Bingham say?”

“Doc’s still in there.”

Logan’s intense gray eyes, the color of an Appaloosa horse, met hers. “Still?”

“Yes.” Frustration again starched her spine. “And I’m sick of waiting.” She stepped toward the bedroom door. “I’m going in there.”

Logan laid his hand on her arm. She jerked away and faced him, fists up.

“Whoa, easy there, Matt.” He raised his hands and stepped back. “Causing a stir won’t help anything. Let Doc do his job.” He moved to the fireplace and the coffee pot hanging on the hook. He poured a cup. “You want some tea?”

“Chuck has yet to get to town,” she bit out, whatever calm she’d felt vanishing like snow on a summer day. “And I drank the last of the tea two days ago.”

He poured a second cup. “Then have coffee. Last time I checked, we still had plenty of sugar.”

He set both cups on the table before sitting in a straight-backed chair. Matt again balled her hand into a fist. His head made a tempting target.

He took a sip. “Either hit me or have a sit. Your choice.”

She didn’t want to sit so to keep from swinging at Logan’s thick skull, she resumed her pacing. She felt his gray gaze on her every step.

“He’s gonna be all right, Matt.”

She rounded on him. “What makes you so dang sure of that?”

“I just am.” He kicked the other chair out from the table with his foot. “Sit down. You’re wearing a rut in the floor.”

“Am not,” she retorted, not caring that she sounded more like a child than a grown woman of nineteen years. Still, she plunked her backside into the chair and reached for the second cup. After spooning in a generous portion of sugar, she took a sip and grimaced. No amount of sugar could make coffee taste better than bull piss.

“Have you seen him this morning?” Logan again inclined his head toward the bedroom door.

She shook her head then tucked her too short hair behind her ear. “I was mucking stalls when Chuck found me. Said Pa wanted to see me, too.”

Logan’s full lips twitched. “Figure Chuck likes his new job as a carrier pigeon?”

Matt fought to smile back. “He’d rather cook a pigeon than be one.”

After the shared quiet chuckle, silence blanketed the room. It bore down on Matt, making it hard to breathe. She straightened her shoulders with a toss of her head and blinked at the burn in her eyes. “I talked to Roscoe about me getting back on guard duty at the herd.”

Logan stiffened. “What the hell for?”

She hitched a shoulder. “I need to stop lollygagging.”

“You haven’t been lollygagging. You’ve been needed here.”

“To do what?” Anger and a good dose of fear spiked her words. “It’s not like Pa lets me take care of him. He’d rather go hungry than have me spoon broth down his throat.”

“You’re his daughter. Your place is here.”

She crossed her arms and jutted her chin. “Roscoe’s the foreman and he agrees I should get back on guard duty.”

A muscle popped in Logan’s cheek. “Like hell. I’ll take your shifts.”

“You’ve taken every one of my shifts for the past three weeks. And with half the men still recovering, you’ll end up with this dang influenza yourself.”

“Doubtful. Doc says if I haven’t gotten it by now, I won’t. Besides, it’s temporary. Once Gene and everybody else are back on their feet, things will get back to normal.” He calmly sipped his coffee.

Scowling, she opened her mouth to inform Mr. Logan Cartwright that she didn’t need him or anyone treating her like a ninny little girl. But the creak of her father’s bedroom door cut off the words. Doc Bingham stepped out of the room. She jumped to her feet, as did Logan, their chairs scraping the floor.

“How is he?” they asked in unison.

The doctor took his sweet time closing the door before eyeing first Logan then her. “Reckon that’s for him to say.”

A chill settled at the base of her spine. “What does that mean?”

Bingham scrubbed his hands down his face with a sigh. “It means your father wants to see you.”

She started for the bedroom.

“But first, he wants to see you.” Bingham pointed to Logan.

Stunned, Matt halted in her boots. She swerved her gaze to Logan who stared back, his eyebrows arched high. After a pause, he pushed his chair under the table then walked to her father’s room. With a last look, he disappeared through the door.

Wednesday Releases!

Welcome to something new! I'm going to host New Releases on Wednesdays, so if you want to see what's hot, join us each week on hump day. ;)

Please welcome my first guest, Lynda Bailey! And be sure to leave a comment and your email addy for a change to win an e-copy of BATTLE BORN LOVE!

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Writing Porn – With a Plot

Thanks Jennifer for letting me hang-out today and promote my very first indie-published book, Battle Born Love. Leave a comment and be entered to win a PDF copy!

I hope I didn’t offend anyone with the title of this blog. I’ve always written really hot love scenes in my books. (Just ask one of my former CPs who’s in her seventies. She claims I made her “twitchy”.) However, I never took the “plunge” into erotic romance. That is until about four years ago. Now, as an avid writer of erotic romance, I’ve had to grin and bear the comments – good-natured and well-meaning alike – about how I write “smut.” Well, I don’t write “smut” aka erotica. Erotica is weak on character motivation and the stories don’t end with an HEA (happily ever after). I write romance, very explicit and graphic, but still romance.

A good example of erotica would be the porn classic, Debbie Does Dallas. It’s all about the sex and little else. Not that I’m a prude. Porn can be quite entertaining. I mean all hard-working cheerleaders engage in sexual activities to make a little extra cash, right? Porn and/or erotica is hot and explicit and very, very graphic, but without a doubt not romance.

A great example of erotic romance would be the love scene in Coming Home. The movie wasn’t based solely on two or more people having sex. It was about the struggles of a paralyzed Vietnam vet (Jon Voight) and a young hospital aide (Jane Fonda). The love scene between these two characters wasn’t as explicit as a porn movie, but it was unquestionably motivated, extremely hot and definitely erotic. And it was a romance.

In a nutshell, erotic romance has very explicit, very graphic love scenes which are character driven and thus motivated. It’s not just about a young and beautiful wife, left home alone by her corporate-ladder-climbing husband, who drops to her knees when the pizza delivery guy shows up – no matter how drop-dead-gorgeous the delivery guy! The difference is important, especially if you’re defending yourself to family and friends.

Now, having said all that, Battle Born Love isn’t an erotic romance, though it’s still pretty darn hot/explicit and will make you (I hope) “twitchy.” Remember to leave your email addy in your response to be entered to win a free copy. (You can also email me: Lynda@lyndabailey.net)

Thanks again, Jennifer, for letting me be here today.

Blurb:

LOVE BORN FROM BATTLE. . .

Spirited repo owner, Rory Dawson, agrees to be what she isn’t in order to save her father from a prison sentence. Now Pop is safe, but is her heart?

Handsome banker, Kane Williams, has made a deal with a most provocative devil in hopes of securing a coveted promotion. All his life Kane has endeavored to be the best, to erase the failure of his father. Will years of work be forfeited for a woman, albeit the sexiest one he’s ever known?

From opposite sides of the tracks, Rory and Kane forge an unlikely friendship. Soon, that friendship becomes a steamy relationship. Through trial and pain, they battle to have the love of a lifetime.

Excerpt:

She bit her lower lip. “Sorry.”

Kane straightened, his gaze fastened to her mouth as her teeth released the fleshy skin. He suppressed his growl on a cough. “It doesn’t matter,” he choked out. “We should leave anyway. It was wrong to put you in this situation.”

From the corner of his eye, Kane saw two assistant managers from the downtown office pass by, staring. He edged Rory closer to the wall to shield her.

She placed a hand on his arm. “How will it look if we leave? We should stay.”

He massaged the tight muscles in his neck, trying to figure a way out of the evening. She was right, damn it.

Her hand squeezed. “I promise to stay by your side and be the best fake girlfriend ever. No one will suspect anything. In fact. . .” He watched her gaze slide over to the managers who were still ogling them.

“I think it’s show time.”

Before he could react, Rory wrapped both hands around his neck and pulled him to her waiting lips. Her tongue made an immediate foray into his mouth and Kane’s world zeroed down to nothing. No restaurant. No bank people. Nothing.

Just Rory.

He tilted her head up with his middle finger while his thumb stroked her cheek, his tongue sparring with hers. Kane needed his other hand propped on the wall for support.

To a casual observer, the kiss probably didn’t seem all that intense. What a lie.

Small sounds, only he could hear, emanated from deep in her throat. Her body quivered closer to his. Kane thought again about leaving, now for very different reasons.

Rory broke the kiss and her eyes, bright and iridescent skewed him. She cleared her throat. “We should return to your friends.” In reluctant moves, he shifted to give her room to move. Her hand again squeezed.

“But, if you want to continue this later, you’ll know where I’ll be. In the bedroom next to you.”

His thoughts on that temptation, Kane followed behind her to the group.

Free For All Friday - Meet Author Lynda Bailey!

This week I have the pleasure of interviewing my friend - and fellow western historical author (at least some of the time) - Lynda Bailey!
I was lucky enough to get to know Lynda in Orlando this summer at the 2010 RWA conference. It was great fun meeting another "western" girl (as I dubbed Lynda, fellow GHer Jacqui Nelson, and myself), but an even greater pleasure to meet another western, erotic author.
Anyway, as I stated above, Lynda is one of those talented writers who can produce in several genre. She also writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and YA.
So take a few minutes and get to know this lovely, FUN lady. And wish her a HAPPY BIRTHDAY (Sat. 20th) !!!

Thanks so much for being my guest Lynda;)
Now, on with the show...........

 Why We Write What We Write:

What type of romance stories do you write?

Though Wild Flower was a 2010 finalist in the Golden Heart® historical category, I tend to write mostly contemporary, erotic romances.  Check out my website www.LyndaBailey.net to read some excerpts.  My next two stories, however, are a romantic suspense and YA urban fantasy respectfully. 

What inspires you to write in the different sub-genres?

Gosh, that’s a good question.  Unfortunately, I don’t have a good answer.  LOL.  Wild Flower was born from my love of all things western and the fact I grew up on the great plains of this country.  Most of my contemporary stories have their roots in the real-live-people I’ve met through the years.  I got the idea for my romantic suspense after hearing a local TV news reporter speak at a writers’ meeting.  My YA urban fantasy hit me while listening to The Golden Network’s agent/editor panel in Orlando.  Guess you could say my inspiration is as diverse as the varying colors of a rainbow.

Who inspired you to begin writing? And why?

Lorraine Heath. I guess she inspired me b/c I wanted to do for others what she did for me - She gave me wonderful entertainment.  She allowed me into the lives and hearts of people from another place and time.  She made me laugh and she made me cry.  She made me want to give that kind of entertainment to others.  I'm not there yet, but I am working on it. 

 

Do you think writing in all these different sub-genres will make getting published any easier or faster?

In a word, no.  First and foremost, you have to write a good story with compelling characters readers can relate with.  Having a unique voice is also imperative if you’re going to grab the attention of an agent or editor.  If having a variety of stories is any advantage at all it’s that you’re not pigeon-holed into any one sub-genre.  Not that that’s a bad thing.  I admire those writers who can immerse themselves time and again into Regency historicals or dark paranormals.  But for me, variety is the spice of writing.  What about for you?  

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Thanks again for being my guest, Lynda! And have a very Happy Birthday!  Visit Lynda's site for more info:

www.LyndaBailey.net