Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Visiting with author H.C. Brown






Dance to the Wolf came to me in a recurring dream. My dreams moved through snowfields, forests, and a dark medieval castle with a flag waving from the ramparts depicting a wolf with blood red fangs. In my dream, a young man was fleeing a pack of werewolves.
This dream continued for some days. Then it turned to a white tiger bounding through the snow.
The next day I began to write the story about a slave, Eton, sold on his majority to the sex slave market. His life inside the notorious Den was at least tolerable until his master sells him to the Alpha of a werewolf pack.
I needed a hero and introduced Raz, a white tiger shifter. The story is about Eton’s escape from the werewolf with the help of his lover, Raz. Time is running out, on the full moon, Eton will become the werewolf’s lover. I enjoyed writing this story and there is more to tell about the lives of these remarkable tiger shifters. So, I created the Tull Pride Series. This is book one, a standalone story. I hope you enjoy reading it.
H.C. Brown
Buy link: http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=2292
This book will be available on Amazon , Are and other vendors from 9 September.



Blurb:
Sold as a pleasure slave to a werewolf, Eton’s survival depends on the love of Raz. Can the tiger shifter rescue him before certain death on the full moon?
In love with a slave from another realm, the Tull Alpha, Raz, plans to free Eton and take him for his lover. However, politics cause a delay and Raz arrives late at the auction to find Eton’s master has sold the handsome young man as a pleasure slave.
Six months later, Raz discovers Eton dancing to entice customers in the infamous Den of Depravity at Tennabolt Gate. The knowledge that the Beast of Darktrees, has bought Eton for his own form of wickedness throws Raz into an impossible position. To rescue his young man means war between the shifters and the werewolves. He must regain Eton’s affection because his love is all the slave has to sustain him in the hands of the Lycaon.



Excerpt From: Dance to the Wolf
Zulka City—Land of the Five Gates

"Have you lost your wits?" Ransom glared at his brother. "You are the Alpha. What in heaven’s name are you doing sniffing around a slave boy in Zulka City?" He gave Raz an appraising look. "And why are you dressed in rags? Have you no shame?"
Anger stirred Raz’s inner cat. He pushed the albino tiger back into the dark recesses of his mind and turned to face his brother. "I’m in love."
"No. You’re in lust. You can’t have this slave’s ass, so you’ll hang around him until he comes up for auction even though owning a slave is against our laws." Ransom pushed the hair off his sweat-soaked face. "Come home. You’ve important matters to attend to." He sighed. "In any case, this slave cannot be your mate. He’s not a shifter." He grasped Raz’s arm. "This love you speak of is a passing fancy."
Raz wrenched his arm away. "You’re correct, brother. I am the Alpha and I will make the decision on who to love or not." He bared his fangs at Ransom. "And I don’t require you to inform me of my duty to our pride or our laws. Leave me now. I’ll return home in a couple of hours."
"Don’t come growling to me if the sexy little slave steals your purse." Ransom turned on his heel and strode with purpose into the crowded city streets.
The market square sizzled below the blinding summer sun. Heat shimmers rose above the flagstones and reminded Raz of the distortion of air around shifters at the point of morphing. He stepped under the canvas awning attached to the rear door of the tavern, and leant back in the shadows. The dry coolness from the brick wall seeped through his buckskin jerkin. He peered down the dusty street, searching the crowd. People moved around the multitude of stalls in a noisy throng. The free citizens dressed in brightly coloured garments stood out against the slaves in homespun brown and indigo.
A fat man with limp greasy hair stood a few paces from him holding a bunch of squawking chickens by the legs. Raz wrinkled his nose. His heightened senses had overloaded with the stench of unwashed bodies, fish and animals. Another variety of scents wafted on the breeze to confuse him, in a combination of fragrant flowers and the aromas of the stalls offering food delicacies.
Anticipation fluttered Raz’s stomach. In the distance, Eton pushed through the crowd, a basket over one arm and his long golden hair, prominent amongst the dark-haired masses. The slave made his way toward him. Raz smiled at the sight of the delicious young man he loved beyond reason.
Warmth curled around his heart. A long purr escaped his lips. The slave’s perfection in male beauty made him weak in the knees. His young man’s kisses had become desperately passionate of late. Of course, he wanted Eton as his lover. Raz’s cock grew hard at the thought of bedding his delicious friend. One more day and he will be mine. The connection between them had grown into something special. Raz counted each hour between their brief interludes.
Gods, he had fallen in love with a slave. A free man and the Alpha of the Tull Pride, he moved around the realms of the Five Gates unchallenged. He chewed on his bottom lip. Each time they met, his presence put Eton in danger.
He understood the law. In Zulka City, for a slave to consort with a free man without his master’s consent brought instant death. Raz ground his teeth. He hated the clandestine meetings with his friend and the constant arguments with his brother over his relationship. In truth, all affairs of his pride fell into insignificance at the thought of Eton. He could not get enough of Eton. He craved the taste of his lips and the delicious flavour of his love’s innocence.
Eton’s master planned to auction him on the breaking dawn. As a virgin, he was a valuable asset to the pleasure market. He had the fine bones of a female. His skin, oiled daily, was soft to the touch. His handsome features and almond-shaped emerald eyes had caught Raz’s attention more than six months ago. To find such a jewel in a filthy marketplace had astounded him.
Two days had passed since Eton had clung to him sobbing with the news that his master planned to sell him. Delighted at the chance to purchase Eton and set him free, Raz had calmed his young man. He smiled to himself. Soon, they would leave this place and go to his home in Dragonspawn Gate. Thank the gods, his realm’s laws prevented slavery. For once Eton could live in peace, far from the constant harassment of the Slave Masters.
Ten paces away, Eton tossed his long golden hair over one shoulder and moved into the shadows alongside the buildings. A man jostled the young slave. Raz’s tiger rose to the surface, roaring with jealousy. Raz curled his hands, and needle sharp claws broke through his fingertips. The cat rippled beneath his skin. A soft whine spilled into his head.
"You must bond with Eton soon before he is lost to us. He may be small, but he is well past his majority."
Raz pushed down the cat’s need to emerge. Morphing in a busy marketplace would reveal his identity. "I crave to be with him, but Eton’s scent doesn’t lure me as a mate should. I’m not sure if he belongs to me, cat. Perhaps, he is slow to maturity because of his size. In time, we will know the truth."
The slave moved gracefully towards him. His narrow sexy hips swayed with each delightful step. Raz held out a hand. "Eton." He pulled his love against him. His cat roared with pleasure. Raz inhaled the man’s fragrance and sighed. "I’ve missed you."
The urgent need to kiss Eton overwhelmed him. He pushed open the back door to the tavern and drew him inside.
"I’ve missed you too." Eton followed Raz into a small room. "I don’t have too long. I must return to my master within the hour." He rubbed a hand down Raz’s back.
With a moan, Raz cupped Eton’s chin and lowered his head to capture his soft mouth. Eton curled his long fingers in his tunic. He parted his warm lips and explored the contours of Raz’s smile with his inquisitive tongue. With a long purr, Raz deepened the kiss. The slave moaned, and returned his embrace with passion.
Raz used his tongue to stroke every crevice, marvelling at the young man’s delicious flavour. He brushed Eton’s fangs with his lips, so like his own and yet many of the species of humanoid in the realms had fangs. If only this delightful man had been cat, his brother could have had no objection to them being together. He gripped Eton’s muscular buttocks and squeezed. Eton mewed against his lips and pressed his hard shaft into Raz’s thigh. So innocent and yet so demanding, his sweet man would have to wait a little longer for the joy of his lovemaking.
He dragged his mouth away and gazed down into Eton’s hooded green eyes. "You know how much I want you, but a kiss is all I can offer until tomorrow." He smiled. "It’s only one more night. Know that I love you and we’ll be leaving this place for good soon."
*****
Coming from Steam eReads 15 September: A Tryst of Fate, M/M Time Travel Romance.
Buy link: www.steamereads.com.au

www.hcbrown-author.com
www.hcbrownauthoroferoticromance.blogspot.com.


Saturday, September 7, 2013

Wild Wicked Weekend- Samantha Cayto

Behind the Scenes of the Wild Wicked Weekend

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve heard about the upcoming Wild Wicked Weekend in San Antonio. Then again, what happens in San Antonio...

It’s wild. It’s wicked. It’s one glorious weekend in February that you will never forget - especially the parts where pictures will not be allowed. 

Regina Carlysle, Samantha Cayto, Cerise DeLand, Dalton Diaz, Desiree Holt, and Brenna Zinn are working hard to bring your unspoken desires to life. We each have our responsibilities and our favorite activities on the schedule, and each week one of us will give you a glimpse behind the scenes and a personal look into our favorite activity.




This week’s featured author: Samantha Cayto
Bio

I’m really a boring suburban mom who practices as a business attorney. I just happen to be a Domme and an erotica writer too. I’m also one of those people that has to be doing something all the time or I feel like I’m slacking off. I blame my Greek heritage. My relatives never retire.

I read all the time and believe that e-readers are the best invention ever. I hate waiting to get a book I’ve been looking forward to. I’m also a hopeless romantic, be it FM or MM.

Want to know more about me including my buy links? Visit www.samanthacayto.com.

What is my main responsibility behind the Wild Wicked Weekend?

I hired and ride herd on the hosts and set up the trip to Hardbodies strip club. Yeah, I know, I got all the really HARD jobs! My friends recognize that given I’m a Domme, I know how to crack the whip when it comes to naughty boys. And while I didn’t set up the dungeon tour, I’m definitely going.


Question(s) from www.WildWickedWeekend.com and contest info:

Kellee R. asks:

How does your immediate family feel about your writing? "Why yes, my daughter does write erotica"
Do you make a living writing or do you have another job?
Do most self pubbers use professional editors/critiquers or do they use really talented friends?

Sam:

My family’s reactions are a mixed bag. My husband is supportive but he’s such an intensely private person that the idea of my being a writer at all mystifies him. He doesn’t understand why I love to go to conferences and meet readers. My kids are between 15 and 20, two girls and a boy, and they are mortified that their MOTHER not only has sex but writes about it too. Most of the rest of my family are part thrilled, part embarrassed, but overall supportive.

I wish I could make a living as a full time writer, but alas, not yet. My “real” job is being a business lawyer. That sounds boring and it can be, but I’m proud of the career I’ve built over the last two decades and can’t imagine not practicing the law.

I’ve only done one self-pubbed, Wet Ride, and used a professional. I always send a story to Dalton before I send it to my editors. I can always count on her to catch the big problems. I think for new authors in particular, you need a professional, though. Dalton knows she can tell me something sucks and I’ll take it well and still love her afterward. But most family members and friends can’t be that honest with you.


Up next: Sat, Aug. 31st with Regina Carlysle!

Contest: There is still time to enter. From now through Sept 25th, simply go to http://wildwickedweekend.com/ask-us-win and ask your question right on the website. It can be any question, though we aren’t telling who will answer which one! Yes, you can ask more than one question, but you will only be entered once for the contest. One lucky winner will receive an e-book of choice from each of our backlist. THAT’S 6 FREE EBOOKS! Winner will be announced and the last questions answered in our last Saturday post on Sept. 28th.

Monday, September 2, 2013

Zayne Michaels





Zayne Michaels is a small-town girl who grew up and ran off to the big city. She currently resides in the Midwest where she spends her days dreaming up dark, sexy adventures in between soccer games and the never-ending pile of laundry.

Zayne's fascination with old and discarded treasures has always been a source of inspiration for her tales. From antique clocks to old, dilapidated houses, her imagination turns to the "what ifs" and "what used to bes."

Maybe this love for the abandoned is why she is a firm advocate of second chances, or perhaps she's just a little crazy. Whatever the reason, Zayne believes everyone chooses their own path, creates their own destiny, and is the author of their own story.

BLOOD RED
Once Upon a Midnight Moon

Declan Collins never wanted to be a vampire. He certainly never wanted to be a pawn in his Maker’s games of cat and mouse. When their hunt for a rare and elusive breed of werewolf leads them straight to Declan’s mate, however, it’s game over.

Lincoln Chastain never imagined the infamous Red Siren would turn out to be his intended. He can’t deny the attraction between them, but nor can he allow a pretty face to distract him from his quest for retribution.

Sometimes, things aren’t as black and white as they seem and finding the truth will come with a price. Will the secrets they discover give the mated pair the happy ending they desire? Or will the lies and greed of others destroy them before they’ve even started?

EXCERPT
Lincoln, big badass he professed to be, actually stumbled backward. “What are you doing? Are you…are you seducing me?”
“Depends.” Declan shrugged. “Is it working?”
“Are you doing that siren thing you do?”
“Lincoln, I’m not actually a siren. I’m a muse.” Adding a little extra sway to his hips, he gripped the hem of his oversized sweater—Lincoln’s sweater to be exact—and slid the fabric up his torso. “Are you inspired yet, or should I keep going?”
Unlike a siren, a muse didn’t seduce with his voice. When Declan amped up the juju, he secreted pheromones through the exhalation of each breath. These pheromones didn’t create obsessive behaviors but had more of an influential effect, creating a sense of calm, tranquility, and enlightenment. Hence, his ability to inspire creative minds.
In Lincoln’s case, though, he really was just seducing him. Sue me.
“I think it’s working.” Lincoln’s voice dropped an octave and took on a husky quality that sent a shiver of desire down Declan’s spine. “Maybe you should keep going.”
Almost there. Stripping the soft cotton shirt off over his head, he tossed it behind him and smoothed one palm down his flexing abs. “How about now?” Abandoning his powers as a muse, he simply allowed his body to do the talking. “Come on, Lincoln. I’m not so fragile. I promise I won’t break.”
“I think I’m starting to feel something.” His hand went to his groin to cup his swelling cock. “Yeah, definitely feeling something in this general region.”
Declan tugged the string on his sleep pants, loosening the waistband so that the fabric slid down his hips. “And now?”
Lincoln’s control finally snapped, and he took two long strides to close the gap between them, wrapping Declan in his strong, capable arms. Game over, cowboy. Oh, Declan did love winning.
“You make me crazy, angel.”
The heat pouring from his mate scorched him, but he reveled in the burn. No one had ever wanted him like Lincoln wanted him—pure, true, and without reservation. Okay, maybe with a little reservation, but he felt they were moving past that.
Fisting one hand in Declan’s hair, Lincoln jerked his head back on his shoulders and laid siege to his mouth, coming up long minutes later to gasp for breath. “This probably won’t end well.”
“Probably not,” Declan agreed.
Sure, the idea of a real relationship scared the hell out of him. He could crawl back to Cashel if things didn’t work out with Lincoln, but frankly, the idea held no appeal. He didn’t hate Cashel necessarily, but nor did he want to continue to be someone’s puppet. Things weren’t like that with Lincoln. Declan never had to worry that the next order would be the one that finally broke him.
The silence stretched on while Lincoln considered him, clearly warring with himself over how to proceed. “Be sure, mon bel ange. Be very sure.”
 Yes, he understood the risks, but from where he stood, the benefits far outweighed the potential consequences. “I am.”
A fierce, possessive growl was his only warning before Lincoln lifted him off the floor and encouraged Declan’s legs around his waist. One hand tangled in his hair while the other held a firm grip on his ass, and Lincoln attacked his mouth with an urgency that left Declan’s head spinning.
Their tongues tangled and twined, sliding together in a passionate duel, and Declan moaned in wanton delight as he rocked against his lover. Raw, untainted desire possessed him, and he dug his fingers into Lincoln’s shoulders, desperate to be closer.
The response surprised him, even startled him a bit. He couldn’t catch his breath, but the scary part was he didn’t care. No one had ever elicited this kind of response from him. No one had pushed him so close to the brink with nothing more than a kiss.
“Lincoln, please.” His plea came as a breathy whimper while his mate kissed along the column of his neck. “I can’t wait.” His insides burned like molten lava, and his nerve endings sizzled with every touch.
“Patience, angel,” Lincoln rasped before nipping at his earlobe.
A knock at the door pulled an uncharacteristic growl from Declan’s lips, and Lincoln’s answering chuckle did nothing to improve his mood. “Who the hell is that?”
“My guess would be the delivery guy.”
“Tell him to go away.” Declan was starving, but not for fried rice or egg rolls.
Lincoln scraped his teeth over Declan’s shoulder and laughed again as he spun them toward the door. “Grab my wallet.” He nodded toward the end table beside them.
With a grumbling sigh, Declan leaned to the side to retrieve the wallet, but once upright, he couldn’t resist another taste of his lover’s lips. Lincoln didn’t protest, even sliding his fingers into the waistband of Declan’s cotton pants to skim along his crease as he stumbled toward the front door.
With their mouths still fused together, Lincoln secured Declan with one hand and reached behind him with the other to turn the knob. “Pay the man,” he ordered, grabbing both bags and dropping them to the floor inside the foyer.
Declan threw the wallet at the delivery man’s head, reached over Lincoln’s shoulder, and slammed the door before returning to his task with a needy groan. Threading his fingers through his lover’s hair, he delved between Lincoln’s lips, leaving no crevice unexplored.
“Now?” he begged. His dick ached, throbbing painfully between his thighs as he rocked against his mate’s cobblestone abs like a bitch in heat.
“Now,” Lincoln rumbled in response, tripping toward the sofa and virtually throwing Declan down on the cushions.
Rummaging through the drawer of the end table while he attempted to undress himself one-handed, Lincoln proved to be the ultimate multi-tasker. Though distracted by the sight of his lover’s long, thick cock, Declan still had enough sense about him to question the availability of the lube Lincoln tossed onto the couch beside him.
“You keep lube in the living room?” He held up the clear, plastic bottle and arched an eyebrow.
“I live alone,” Lincoln answered as he dove on top of him, insinuating himself between Declan’s legs. “Where else do you think I watch porn?”

Behind the Scenes
Q: What do you feel is the hardest part of the writing process?
Knowing when to let go. With every story, I always think there is something that could be just a little bit better. I could spend forever tweaking my stories if I don’t stop myself, and then they’d never see the light of day.
Q: How do you keep your characters and stories organized?
Whiteboards, spreadsheets, notes, tables, and just about anything else I can find to write on. Plus, my betas are amazing at keeping me organized and on track.
Q: Are you plot or character driven? Please elaborate.
That’s a hard one, and I really think it depends on the story. If the characters come to me first, the story tends to follow the personality of the characters. If I get an idea for a storyline before the characters come to me, then that book is normally more plot driven. I suppose you could say I’m versatile.
Q: What is the one thing you must have to be able to write?
Re-runs of some of my favorite shows on in the background. I’ve watched them so many times, they don’t distract me. I can’t write when I’m listening to music, and I can’t write with absolute silence. This seems to work for me, though.
Q: Have you ever gotten writer’s block? How do you get past it?
Yes, I absolutely have. Though, I prefer to think of it as writer’s distress. I had stories in my head to be told, but I couldn’t concentrate or focus long enough to get them down on paper. So, I took a leave of absence, if you will, and gave the Muse some time to settle and recharge before diving back into the writing pool.
Q: What are you currently working on? How is it different from other books you’ve written?
Writing as Zayne Michaels is a lot like having another personality. These stories tend to be darker, and things aren’t always tied up in a nice pretty bow. I just finished the second book in the Once Upon a Midnight Moon series, and am currently working on a M/M contemporary.
Q: When is your favorite time of day to write?
I usually take the graveyard shift when it comes to writing. I’m not a morning person, and the earlier I wake up, the longer it seems to take me to get moving. So, I usually sleep during the day and write during the night when everyone else is sleeping.