Tuesday - Oldie But Goodie Day

Jewel of the Sun's BLOOD DESTINY - available at Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and a few other places. - sizzling romantic paranormal

“Elan, please. Can we talk?”

           He looked through the camera at her as he spoke, “It’s not personal. It’s a means.”

“A means to what? I don’t—”

“The end.”

“Damn it, don’t talk in riddles,” she said, realizing he was taking photos. Too bad, if they come out crappy, if he’d be straight with her, she wouldn’t have to disrupt his play.

“No riddles. A means to the end. We follow the path of the visions and they’re over.”

Follow the path of the visions. Suddenly, she felt as if she’d been knocked down and found herself sitting on the bench, her hands gripping it for support. Her mind tried to wrap around his words.

No, he couldn’t mean it the way she took it. They were strangers. Sure she wanted him, but it was her mind’s game. Shudders swept through her. “I don’t understand,” she said.

“Cross your legs.”

His words barely registered, but she crossed her legs and her hands shook so much she couldn’t straighten the skirt. Before she knew he’d moved, he was there, kneeling. He stopped her hands with his.

“Look at me!” he commanded with a quietness she had to obey.

She had to look at him. “You can’t mean…this can’t…I can’t…”

He brought her hands to his lips, caressing them. “When the time’s right, there will be no fear.”

“I’m not scared. Practical. I don’t go to bed with anyone, especially if we’re strangers.”

“You’ve been thinking of it.”

“Yes, but it was the dreams, being here…it’s like déjà vu. It’s natural I would.” She tried to free her hands, but he wouldn’t let go.

“It’s not our will. We use our will to break a binding.” He played with the ring. “Bound by the jewel of the sun.”

“How?”

“We must talk tomorrow. Time is slipping away. We deviate long, it will not work.”

“You want me to sleep with you without knowing why.”

He touched her trembling lips. “For now. Trust me.”

Right, the first thing her grandfather told her about boys was to never trust one who says ‘trust me’. He let her other hand go and fixed the skirt around her legs. His warm fingers straightened the anklet, and then he studied her with his infamous eye.

“Close your eyes. Breathe. Relax.”

Cassandra closed her eyes and breathed, but she didn’t relax. How could she? He wants to use her.

“Let it happen. Let it consume as before.” He tipped her chin enough to tilt her head. “Want me like you saw.”

“I do,” she whispered. “I burn for completion.” She did and maybe that’s why she felt herself giving in without much hesitance.

“Yes…yes…yes,” he whispered.

He returned to the camera and her leg bounced as she relaxed with her hands on the bench. She stopped the movement, because not only could it ruin his photos, but also the rocking of flesh against flesh fueled the smoldering ache between her thighs.

When he’d done as many shots with the still as he wanted, he picked up the digital and came in closer with each click. Though he never deviated from his work, she sensed a change in him. Who knows, it’s possible the discussion they’d had changed things between them. Maybe her admission of wanting to get her hands on him excited him. For herself, she found the instructions he gave easier to do and fun.

Some eight, ten shots later, he told her, “Walk around the bench toward the wall of ivy and give me an over the shoulder look.”

Cassandra took a few steps, looked over her shoulder and saw he’d lowered the camera. “Did I do it wrong?”

“No.” He brought the camera up and shot. “Needed you to relax into in to it.”

“Oh.” She smiled and turned looked over her other shoulder, while telling him, “You’re being easy on me, I think.”

“For now.” His words, the husky sound of his voice sent tingling sensations through her body. “I’m changing the scene,” he said, setting the camera down a few minutes later.

For now. What did he mean? She watched him walk past her and raise the screens to reveal white-paned French doors. There was darkness beyond the panes. She looked around for a clock and wondered why she’d never noticed it before. It set over the doorway and told her it was eight thirty. Had they been at it for almost two hours?

The butterflies returned to her stomach, but not from worry. The way all this was playing out was responsible. The trickle of information she had to pull from him like a splinter under the skin raised many more questions.

Elan finished with the screens and before he could tell her what she was to do next, she had to try to get more answers. “You obviously know more than I do. Tell me what you know. How did this happen? Who would do this to two strangers?”

He stood before her and caressed her forehead with the pad of his thumb, smoothing a frown she supposed. “It’s complicated.”

He scanned her face making her feel as if he was memorizing her features, her bone structure, but then he focused on her mouth. His eyes didn’t falter. He simply saw, caressed without touching. Cassandra parted her lips in anticipation, he came closer his breath fanning her face. She raised her chin wanting him to close the distance, her eyes searching brown circles intent on her mouth. Her breasts rose and fell. Her tongue ran over her lips and a groan slipped from him. His lips brushed hers, left her, touched again and then covered them completely. She moaned as she leaned in for a deeper connection, feeling like she was slipping down wet, grassy hill. Unable to stop herself, she sank into him and when she started to wind her arms round his neck, his mouth left hers.

“Answers will come,” he said. “Now we follow through.”

Have a Great Day!

Bekki Lynn

Inspiration -

Music is my biggest inspiration. It's not often the lyrics, but the over all tone of the song or the artist's voice. I tend to lean toward a raspy sound. However, way back when it wasn't the case. Barry Manilow was my biggest inspiration. I'd put a cassette in my tape player, earphones in my ears and sit for hours writing as fast as the words came to me. In later years, I'd switch to Michael Bolton to refine scenes that required a depth into a scene where I not only reached into the character and pulled them into reality, but let Michael's music pull what was needed from myself - if that makes sense.

Inspiration, I think, can change gradually, but stay the same or become something completely different. It all depends what we're open to and if we recognize it. A few years ago, Bonnie Tyler struck a chord and I found her sensuality changing my writing. While I was writing primarily women's lit with the bedroom door open, I suddenly found myself going further into the erotic genre. Funny how it took a woman to bring it out.

Another thing that inspires me are facial expressions, especially the eyes and mouths. Lively eyes and smiles say so much about a person that when I get past the knee buckling sight I store it. The person who I think is the most expressive person around is Melissa Etheridge. I've watched videos of her from 1988 to the present.

This video of Melissa is from her 2001 Alive & Alone show, but it covers the gammit of what I love. The song is one I've always loved.



Inspiration comes from every part of our lives, but for me, music feeds the need to write.

Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net

Bekki Lynn: 'Shadow Love' - blurb and excerpt

Blurb:


Carla Kingston claimed to have been accosted by a ghost when she was seventeen years old. In confidence, she told her best friend, who dropped her like hot coals. Ten years later, Bobby Whitten returns with a change of heart, but can he handle watching her enjoy being made love to by a shadow of a person who was murdered more than a hundred years ago? [paranormal, short story - A Ghost Hunter Romance, I like to say]


Excerpt:

“Maybe. Zack, I have a strange feel about what's to come.”

“I told you, it’s the two of you together that is stirring them up,” Zack told her.

“You’re being redundant.”

“Stop sucking face and things will quiet.”

“Ha, ha.”

“What?” Bobby asked.

“Zack says they’re jealous and trying to get my attention, so we need to stop sucking face.” His eyes narrowed, and she found it amusing to watch him look around the place. “He can’t see us.” She tapped the headset. “Hearing.”

“Oh,” he said before a grin crept across his face.

“Zack, while the troops feel they need to gather, I’m going in to do some fishing.”

“Not a good idea. Too many.”

“I’ll be fine. They love me, you said so yourself.”

“Right now, it may not be unanimous if you get my drift.”

“Yeah, I get it.” It would definitely be worth it if her infatuated ghost was jealous enough to take things to a new level.

“I think it’d be interesting to take Bobby in the house with you and see what happens.”

She laughed. “You’re ornery.”

“Well, go have fun. I’ve got your back.”

“Appreciated. Switching to wireless.” She set the headset down and turned it off. “Remember what I said. Don’t interfere,” she reminded Bobby while putting on a wireless headset and attached the battery pack to the back of her jeans.

“What’re you doing?”

“My job. You can watch and listen, but you won’t be able to talk to me. Nor will I be able to hear you.” Flipping on the speaker nestled between the monitors near a receiver, she informed him, “Only Zack will be able to talk to me.” Carla pulled a jacket on, grabbed her kit, put the file of photos in it and turned at the door. “I’ll be back,” she said in the gruffest tone she could manage. He didn’t smile. She walked up to him and kissed him. “Relax.”

Carla left and crossed the street to enter the property. Her heart pounded against her chest cavity. She latched the gate behind her, took out her handheld thermal meter along with the K2 meter, turned them on and went up the walk to the porch steps and up to the front door. She shivered when she entered a cold spot. “I’ve entered coldness, fifty-one degrees.”

“Daybreak temps been steady at fifty-seven.”

“No visuals, but you,” Bobby added.

She pulled the keys from her pocket. “Going in.”


Purchase Bekki's books at:
Smashwords, Kobo, Amazon, Lulu, Diesel, Sony, Barnes and Noble.

http://bekkilynn.net/
http://bekkilynnsplanet.blogspot.com/

Some great romance offers for Thanksgiving from Bekki Lynn

Just in time for Thanksgiving, Black Friday and Cyber Monday, Bekki Lynn has put together some great stories and offers for you. Please see below for the blurbs, covers and links.

Absentee Love Returns - contemporary, non-erotic - only 99c!

Gail Green's world is turned upside down when an alleged mobster gives her an ultimatum; lose her newborn son or follow orders. The choice she chooses puts both of them in danger she had never believed possible. When they are kidnapped, she has no idea which of the Galletti’s enemies is behind it, if any. That is until Rico Galletti turns up with a wild story of working with a covert organization that works in conjunction with military field operations. Before she can comprehend the whole sordid story, he's shot. [mainstream/contemporary, non-erotic]

ISBN - 978-1-4580-4338-2 -

Purchase Bekki's books at:
Smashwords, Kobo, Amazon, Lulu, Diesel, Sony, Barnes and Noble.

Annie and the Young Master - an erotic historical fairy tale - only 99c!

Banished from her home, Lillian Basford picked herself up and set out to start a new life. When Samuel Wadkins came along and gave her a real-life taste of what her dreams with him had teased her with, she became torn between her life as it was and what it’d now become. [erotic historical]

ISBN: 978-1-4524-3636-4 Purchase at: Smashwords, Kobo, Amazon, Lulu, Diesel, Sony, and Barnes & Noble.

Purchase Bekki's books at:
Smashwords, Kobo, Amazon, Lulu, Diesel, Sony, Barnes and Noble.

Cornflower - BDSM - only 99c!

Max and Erin escape to their cabin for a weekend of fun and games. While in the midst of heated passion, a rope slips and she's injured. Max insists they take a break, but when games resume, the out of control fire within her disallows her to use the safe word. When he sees the pain etched in her face, off comes mask, the restraints and slave jewelry. Will they be able to get past the betrayal of trust? [BDSM]

Purchase Bekki's books at:
Smashwords, Kobo, Amazon, Lulu, Diesel, Sony, Barnes and Noble.

Jackie's Boys - menage trios - only 99c!

Jackie's used to the antics of her husband, Lenny, and his twin brother, Randy, but this time they decided to include her in their latest bet. She had forty-eight hours to figure out which one of them she was married to. However, she decides to turn the game around on them by following through on a long-time fantasy to have both brothers at the same time.

ISBN: 978-1-4524-7898-2

Purchase Bekki's books at:
Smashwords, Kobo, Amazon, Lulu, Diesel, Sony, Barnes and Noble.

What Pumps Your Blood?

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Welcome to our week of Halloween Fest.

What I love about Halloween are the movies: the slasher, the zombie, the gore. Some channels have thirty-one days of movies, others have fifteen days, and then there's the obscure movie you might find on other channels. How do I choose what to watch? Sometimes it's a real nail-biter. Now that we have Netflix, we check to see which one is not available and that's what we watch.


And yeah, we know most horror films are not the best. Either they have lousy scripts, lousy actors or both. Still we watch. We love the blood pumping feeling, the unexpected, even the expected. I jump and my sons laughs.

So why do so many people gravitate towards what I consider B movies? Why do we? The darkness, the shadows, the chilling screams. Yes, it's part of it.

Mostly, I think it's the music. The video and audio guys are pure genius when it comes to selecting the tone and temple. Music affects a part of us in so many ways, sadness, that ooie-gooey feeling, and the heart pumping expectancy of danger. We're thrill seekers.

A favorite of mine is Halloween, the orignial 1978 version. As many times as I see it, it never gets old, it never fails to draw the fear, the jumps, and get the blood pumping. The music is amazing, considering the composer couldn't read a note.




What are some of your favorite Halloween movies? What creeps you out?


Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net/

Shadow Love - A Ghost Hunter Romance

What a fun short story to write!

When I volunteered to write a strange story for an anthology, I had no clue what I was going to do. I sat down and played around with a couple of ideas and Shadow Love evolved from those. And maybe the fact that at the time I was watching Ghost Hunter shows on television, so that probably gave the story a boost in the making.

I still may work one of the initial ideas into something, who knows. I like ghosts and believe in them.

I hope you'll check out the story. If I had to pick a secondary character who deserved honorary mention, Zack would be it. I think he gave the story life.

Blurb:

Carla Kingston claimed to have been accosted by a ghost when she was seventeen years old. In confidence, she told her best friend, who dropped her like hot coals. Ten years later, Bobby Whitten returns with a change of heart, but can he handle watching her enjoy being made love to by a shadow of a person who was murdered more than a hundred years ago?

Small Excerpt:

“Maybe. Zack, I have a strange feel about what's to come.”


“I told you, it’s the two of you together that is stirring them up,” Zack told her.

“You’re being redundant.”

“Stop sucking face and things will quiet.”

“Ha, ha.”

“What?” Bobby asked.

“Zack says they’re jealous and trying to get my attention, so we need to stop sucking face.” His eyes narrowed, and she found it amusing to watch him look around the place. “He can’t see us.” She tapped the headset. “Hearing.”

“Oh,” he said before a grin crept across his face.

“Zack, while the troops feel they need to gather, I’m going in to do some fishing.”

“Not a good idea. Too many.”

“I’ll be fine. They love me, you said so yourself.”

“Right now, it may not be unanimous if you get my drift.”

“Yeah, I get it.” It would definitely be worth it if her infatuated ghost was jealous enough to take things to a new level.

“I think it’d be interesting to take Bobby in the house with you and see what happens.”

She laughed. “You’re ornery.”

“Well, go have fun. I’ve got your back.”

“Appreciated. Switching to wireless.” She set the headset down and turned it off. “Remember what I said. Don’t interfere,” she reminded Bobby while putting on a wireless headset and attached the battery pack to the back of her jeans.

“What’re you doing?”

“My job. You can watch and listen, but you won’t be able to talk to me. Nor will I be able to hear you.” Flipping on the speaker nestled between the monitors near a receiver, she informed him, “Only Zack will be able to talk to me.” Carla pulled a jacket on, grabbed her kit, put the file of photos in it and turned at the door. “I’ll be back,” she said in the gruffest tone she could manage. He didn’t smile. She walked up to him and kissed him. “Relax.”

Carla left and crossed the street to enter the property. Her heart pounded against her chest cavity. She latched the gate behind her, took out her handheld thermal meter along with the K2 meter, turned them on and went up the walk to the porch steps and up to the front door. She shivered when she entered a cold spot. “I’ve entered coldness, fifty-one degrees.”

“Daybreak temps been steady at fifty-seven.”

“No visuals, but you,” Bobby added.

She pulled the keys from her pocket. “Going in.”

 
Available at Smashwords and Amazon
 
I'm hoping by Halloween, the story will be up at other venues.
 
 
Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net/

Beautiful Worlds of Realism

While we're all aware of the downsides of the times in which we live, this doesn't mean wonderful things aren't happening. Or that wonderful things can't come from ordinary or seemingly catastrophic events from one's childhood.

I love to reach into a hat so-to-speak and run with whatever idea comes out of it. The wonderful thing about writing is that you can turn any situation into a happily ever after.

When I begin a story, I don't usually think about location or setting. My main focus are the characters. After all, it's their lives which capture us and make us feel their ups and downs as they fight and struggle for what they see as their ultimate goal to happiness. Often they figure out what they thought they wanted isn't at all what they want or only a part of it. It's creative magic.

The heart is a tender organ which when broke can take eons to heal, unless another comes along and overwhelms it with magical healing. To hook the reader and have them love, hate, cry, and laugh with a character is important, in my opinion. To have this happen, the characters need to consume me. I need to allow them to use me as a vessel to write their story through me. If I don't, they lose some of the realism and the story lacks the ultimate punch.

In most of my stories, if not all, I hope I show those who can relate a happily ever after is possible. I want to encourage them to seek it or be open to it. Isn't that what romance stories are supposed to do?

___________

Not all of my characters have reasons to fear love and commitment caused by past hurts, but they can be hindered by outside sources. Many of us work for a business with 'no fraternizing' policies between management and employees. This can cause stress in employees who feel an attraction, but can't act on it. Stress can be manifested in many ways: anger, immature behavior, arguments, extra work, etc. It also leaves lots of room for misinterpretation. But when the feelings over power them, it can lead to an explosive interlude.

I explore this in Last Glass of Wine where Cole is Lana's boss in a restaurant setting.

____________

How about secondary characters? I've been accused of having too many characters in my books, it's confusing. How so is beyond my comprehension. People have friends, family, and coworkers they interact with every day of their lives, why shouldn't our characters? It makes them three dimensional - complete. If done right, these people add depth and insight to further make our characters real people. And often some of them earn their own story.

Or maybe the work place is the connecting piece to a series as I've done in the Servin' It Up series although the last two books are sitting on my computer. In book one, A Psychic Hitch, we know by the end Cheri will be leaving Rogan's Steakhouse so someone has to replace her. Often the assistant is offered the job, which was Lucas. Who replaced him as assistant? Cole in Last Glass of Wine and when he left, he was replaced with a woman who then became Lucas' love interest in book three, Beth Jarvis. I was able to bring back Cheri and Allen along with Cole and Lana for a cameo appearance in this story thanks to an event Beth put together. That was fun. However, in book four, I went for a twist and left the play up to the staff using an outsider to infiltrate to catch a thief.

In Jewel of the Sun's Blood Destiny, I went a different route. Or, I should say, the characters took me on a different path. Half of the secondary characters are spirits who ganged up to bring them together along with their living grandfather's using the peridot gem. What a hot and ride wild they took me on! What's real about this, you might be wondering? I believe in ghosts/spirits, I believe they can and do have a real impact on people's lives.

I think writing realism is every bit as fun as world builders must have writing worlds we can get caught up in. And now that I've pumped myself up, I need to get back a story itching to get out.


Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net/

Climbing Back Into the Ring

I bet you all are wondering why the blog has been so silent of late, but for the scattered blog from Savanna, Stephanie, and Linda. They're all so busy with writing endeavors that I really appreciate the time they take to put something up. But like you all, there are times when there is so much which requires our time we have to pick and choose according to priority.

For me, though, I can't really use that excuse. I've had personal issues which I have concluded must take care of themselves, I'm tired of worrying about them. Of late, I've come to the conclusion that what I really need to do is jump back into the writing community with both feet.

So, I'm going to start off with a post here about what I have been doing. As you might recall, last year I put up a couple anthology titles at Smashwords. They've been doing very well, especially at Sony. Seriously, the first five months they were there, they sold more books than the three books I had with publishers. This year, I received the rights back on one of my published books. I gave it a new cover and lowered the price by a couple of dollars then put it up at Smashwords along with another anthology short story, with two more to come this year.

I'm finding the self-publish route suits me. Does this mean I'll never approach another publisher, who knows. Publishers and NY pubbed authors are using Smashwords for their ease, distribution channel, and higher royalty rates.

Recently, I ventured out and put all those same books up at Amazon. In a month's time, my sales there beat out the sales of my last publisher royalty statement which was for three months.

I never knew what a control freak I could be. lol But it is my business. I love having access to my sales numbers. It really does help in knowing how, where and when you send out your promotional posts.

All of the books are available at Smashwords, Sony, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Diesel, and Kobo. Or will be at Kobo - they are making some changes to how they upload or something along those lines, so the last two books are waiting in their queue. Apple, well -- not sure what their issue is, but we keep sending the books back to them as they contain no objectionable material per their requirment for erotic reads. And Diesel - their site is unavailable at the time of this post. It happens.

Here are three of the books available, which fit the premise of this blog:

Annie and the Young Master - Banished from her home, Lillian Basford picked herself up and set out to start a new life. When Samuel Wadkins came along and gave her a real-life taste of what her dreams with him had teased her with, she became torn between her life as it was and what it’d now become. [historical]



Smashwords, Amazon, Sony, Kobo, and Barnes & Noble

Jewel of the Sun's Blood Destiny - Elan Takoda convinces Cassandra Jones that one night, living the vision they’d both had would rid them of the erotic realism of dreams. But does it? [erotic paranormal]



Smashwords, Amazon, Sony, and Barnes & Noble

Absentee Love Returns - Gail Green's world is turned upside down when an alleged mobster gives her an ultimatum; lose her newborn son or follow orders. The choice she chooses puts both of them in danger she had never believed possible. When they are kidnapped, she has no idea which of the Galletti’s enemies is behind it, if any. That is until Rico Galletti turns up with a wild story of working with a covert organization that works in conjunction with military field operations. Before she can comprehend the whole sordid story, he's shot. [mainstream]



Smashwords, Amazon, Sony, and Barnes & Noble



Thanks so much for stopping by.



Bekki

http://bekkilynn.net/ 

Interactive Communication on Social Sites

People are so funny.

We're all from different parts of the world, different cultures, different upbringings, and have issues which determines daily mindsets. I'm reminded of this every single day on Facebook. I have people who are in the middle of divorces, have health issues, or are just plain off-the-wall. And then there are the kids who totally throw me for a loop. They post things that give the impression something is wrong in their world, but as it turns out, it's simply a lyric from a song they just heard. Thank goodness I have a son who stops me from worrying over his friends.

Facebook is a world all it's own. It's easy to get lost in it with messaging, chatting and the games. Oh, the games. There is something for everyone. It's a wonderful place to keep in touch with long distance people.

I spend more time in my personal account with my family friends than I do my author account, but sometimes like with the rest of the internet - it gets crowded and I need to put space between it and myself. Everything in moderation.

In my author account, it's the same world, all the same issues, but a completely different atmsophere. I'll comment on a post here and there only if I have something constructive to add. Promotional experts say it's more important to comment than to plaster post after post about your books. I get that. However, in the writing world, it's awkward to comment on posts of people you really don't know. I don't do a lot of posting on the main page, simply because no one acknowledges them. I tend to post on the fan page which only those who've liked the page can see. I find this kind of lonely as I don't even know if people read the posts since I rarely get a response. I've tried different topics, usually about my world - my kids, my health, my books, our household projects. I don't really know what will get people to become interactive.

I think many of us have the same problem. Every day that I log in, there are at least 300 new posts waiting to be downloaded. I have nearly 500 friends and so it's rather difficult to keep up. When I scroll down about six pages worth, I'm finding that people aren't trying to engage people, rather they are doing what experts say they shouldn't - promoting and sending the reader to another site where they hope for a purchase. I think that's ok as long as it's not all they do. I've been guilty of it for probably the same reasons they do it.

Other posts are complaining about the government, quoting scripture or talking about personal bits of their lives they probably shouldn't be putting in public forum. I don't mind hearing about some personal issues as a discussion can be beneficial to all involved. I think it's awesome to be able to help others through your own experience. These posts, however, are few and far between.

Yesterday, I did an experiment. I went through the posts and hid all the people who don't contribute to the general population as far as constructive communication. I went back about six pages - it's about all I can do before I'm completely bored with the task. What I ended up with was like five people. I left and returned a few hours later and not much had changed. There were new posts, but other than those five people, I think there were only four other people and none them were contributing to the community. When I came in this morning, I had 300 posts, but when I looked through them, there were about 30 people besides those I had yesterday and I went back several pages until I ran into yesterdays post.

This probably means that three quarters of the people on my friend list either seldom or never posts. But that's neither here nor there. What concerns me is that I, and you who are on my Facebook list, might be missing out on some awesome posts, because they are shoved pages back to die in la-la land. I do have a few where I will go directly to their pages to make sure I haven't missed something.

Now, don't get bent out of shape if you are on my friend list. Hidden doesn't mean I unfriended you. You're still there and very welcome. I will go back in and unhide everyone. 

I understand we all grasp at any venue to promote our books. Our friend lists are made up of mostly writers, and while they read, are they really aren't interested in seeing post after post of advertisements. I don't. I want to get to know you.

What can we do to make every post constructive and contributing to the whole? How can we make them interactive? Any ideas?



Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net/

New Release - Absentee Love Returns

Blurb:
Gail Green's world is turned upside down when an alleged mobster gives her an ultimatum, lose her newborn son or follow orders. When they are kidnapped, she has no idea which of the Galletti’s enemies is behind it. [Contemporary, mildly erotic]


EXCERPT:

“You’re under contract. Don’t forget it!” Vincent Galletti ordered.

“How the hell can I?” Gail swung around to face the horrid man who headed the family. “You people remind me every minute of every day.” He turned and left the room after a long, stare of superiority.

Gail refrained from throwing the glass across the room, drinking from it instead. Yes, she had to honor all parts of the contract forced on her despite the fact Rico could care less about her. Proof of that came months ago when she’d awakened to find him gone from her bed, and no word thereafter despite his professed love.

She walked to the window. The warm rays of the sun of the summer day didn’t penetrate the chill she felt. Ever since Vincent Galletti had walked into her hospital room with a court order to take her son in one hand and an ultimatum in the other, she’d lived with an abnormal since of coldness.

The click of the door caused her back to stiffen in preparation for more hurling words, demands, and threats that she had to bear if she wanted to remain in her son’s life.

Hands came down on her shoulder, and she cringed. He wouldn’t dare try anything here, not in the room next to where his mother lay and his family gathered. The fingers gripped her, but didn’t dig in as she was turned around. A hand slid down her arms while she registered it wasn’t Vicenzo. Lips touched her head, her forehead before she registered the danger and tried to push him away.

Rico’s mouth closed over hers as she opened to protest. Her need for love and comfort won out over the consequences. She gripped his biceps and moved her mouth with his, drowning in the heady scent of soap and peppermint. Tongues danced and she ached to return to the nights where passion drove them into the wee hours of the morning.

He broke the connection, but didn’t move away. “I had to know.”

“What?”

“We’ll talk.” he whispered then brushed her lips again.

“No…Rico…” She heard the music signaling the start of the service. Panic began to rise, knowing someone would come for her if she didn’t appear. “I must go as you should. I can’t be caught with you.”

“Trust grandmother, no one else,” he whispered, kissed her again and she watched him walk from the room.
Her shoulders slumped. She wanted answers, but was more afraid of them. The confirmation of his running from her bed, to another woman's would be throwing gas on simmering coals of squelched anger and sadness. He needed to keep his secrets.

Secrets, her life had become trapped in them and she couldn’t tell him hers. What his family did was backed by the court system, by money, power, and threats. Not to speak of their disownment of Rico.

“The family has sat,” Vicenzo announced from the doorway.

Gail clenched her jaw and tried to pass by him, but he grabbed her arm. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

She glared at him for several seconds, and then told him, “Don’t touch me.”

“Oh, I will. I’ll do more than touch.”

“And die prematurely?”

He dropped his hand. “Mind your mouth.”

“Go to hell.”



Available at: Smashwords, Lulu, Soon: Sony, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, Diesel, Apple

Bekki

http://bekkilynn.net/

Writer's First Aid -- A Medicine Chest of Hope

I came across a new blog for me. Writer's First Aid Kristi Holl is an author of several books and I've found many of her posts to be fabulous. Especially the ones on:

The Dynamics of Change
Stage 1: Making Up Your Mind
Stage 2: Committing to Change
Stage 3: Taking Action
Stage 4: Maintaining Long-Term Success

Some things do happen for a reason. And often when you need it though you might not recognize it right away. I've been having a serious lack of concentration and daily distractions that have been more interesting then sitting here writing. For a writer that signals a problem. I've come up all sorts of reasons and so forth and most of them are true. However, there is a real human reason for it. I need to make changes and get back on track. So, I've taken the first step and that's to see how other's handle distractions and try to glean from their experience and wisdom.

This morning, I had intended to get up and write, nothing else. I'm distracted with wedding stuff. Gathering information and looking at dresses, places to have rehersal dinners. Saturday night, my second son officially proposed to his girlfriend - he'd already indicated to us a few months ago that he wanted to marry her this year. Last night, my third son informed me that he and his fiancee decided to get married this July instead of July next year to be sure her grandfather will be able to do their ceremony. His wife passed a few months ago and he's now having to sell their home due to being able to do the upkeep himself.

Too many distractions. So, I did a search for distractions for writers and First Aid was the first one that came up. I enjoyed reading these posts. I love how she lays out the process of setting your mind before you attempt to make the changes. It makes sense. You wouldn't set out on a long run without stretching your muscles and mapping out your trek. And frankly as writer's I think we do just that. We do things out of order and it catches up with us. Writers first sit down and write before knowing how it's supposed to be done and they we spend so much time back peddling and playing catch-up.


Kristi has so many good posts to read, they in themselves can be a distraction. So, maybe, I'll make it a goal to read of them every day. They are so uplifting.

Check out her blog when you feel a moment of 'distraction'. I don't think there's topic she doesn't cover.

Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net/

Pledging My Love - A Special Pre-Valentine

Tonight my husband surprised me. And with Valentine's Day a few days away, I thought I'd share it.

We were sitting around with Jesse and Kara sharing videos. I had found some of people we once listened to, but haven't thought about in a while. So, after a while, my husband played a song by Conway Twitty, then went on to play the same song by three other people. I was still on Conway - I never knew he sang this song. Well, with this music being before the kid's time, they went to play video games with Jeff. Once they left the room, my husband told me he recalls Elvis singing this song in a movie and told me what he was wearing. He couldn't recall which movie. I did a quick search and found a video of the song. Only Elvis wasn't singing the song, nor was it a movie. It was television series where this guy played elvis and lip-sinked to Ronnie McDowell singing the song. That was what he remembered. Elvis did sing the song, but not until 1977 and only on an album, from what we could find out. So, then he looks at me and tells me that the first time he heard this song, he dedicated it to me.

On Youtube we found a video with Conway singing the song which makes it even more speical for me. Conway is my all time favorite country singer and I miss him terribly. And in this video I learned there is an album I don't have which contains this song. We thought I owned every thing he ever did. So, I pulled the lyrics up from my favorite lyrice site - House of Lyrics.

PLEDGING MY LOVE

Forever my darling

My love will be true

Always and forever

I'll love only you.

Just promise me darling

May this fire in my soul, dear

Your love in return

Forever burn.

My heart's at your command, dear

To keep, love and to hold

Making you happy's is my desire dear

Keeping you is my goal.

For the rest of my days

I'll never part from you

I'll Forever love you

Or your loving ways.

--- Instrumental ---

Yeah, Making you happy's is my desire dear

To keep, love and to hold.)

(My heart's at your command, dear

Keeping you is my goal.

I'll Forever love you

For the rest of my days

I�ll never part from you

Or your loving ways.

Always and forever

--- Instrumental ---

I'll love only you...

(Words & music by Robey - Washington)

I'm so mushy and sentimental. And so very lucky to have a man who thinks so much of me.

Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net/

The Lovers

Several years ago, I saw this picture in a catalog. I was floored by it's romantic quality. I acquired in it porcelian plates and had greeting cards of it framed for hanging in my bathroom as well as many other works of Lee Bogle's Native American collection. It's hard to explain, but his work inspires romantic tendencies within me. Several companies have put many of his pieces into various forms of collections, porclain plates, figures, music boxes, and jewelry - most are retired. I feel fortunate to have many of the collections throughout my home.

The Bradford Exchange put together a porcelain collection set in an unique beautiful frame called the Circle of Life - I'm so in awe of it that when we remodel the bedroom it will be the center piece. The frame is unique in the sense that each porcelain plate can be removed to hang separately, but why would anyone want to?

Lee is a multi-talented artist who I believe has accomplished his task to portray a spirituality to his Native American work. I also have a sense of more. There is a purity of emotion, a love of self and life. He's captured their essence through his vision, and his choice of colors and talent to bring what he sees to the canvas is magnificent.

I'm looking forward to acquiring his new work, especially "The Dreamer" and "Alone With Her Thoughts".

I would like to believe Lee is a special man to know and be around. His sensitivity in the painting of wildlife and women in general show such respect and beauty that I think his art is worthy of sharing.


Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net/

Bodice Ripper to Erotic Romance

Welcome to Erotic Week!

Oh, so many years ago, I started writing stories for the sole reason that I'd become bored with only half the story. I wrote about struggles and finding love, but I opened the bedroom door. I never considered it erotic, the word never entered my mind. I considered intimacy part of a relationship between a man and a woman. Normal stuff, you know. Even your preacher does it - proof is in the kids they have. ;)

I saw nothing wrong with showing the complete relationship, though my mother sure did. Or so she let on. I recall one day, my sister found one of the stories and took it to her. I was read the riot act, however, she returned the story to me. Maybe secretly she was saying, 'go girl', but because of the time she couldn't publically condone it.

Oh, some of my work might be toned down in comparison to what most write, but still for the fact I opened the bedroom door and brought the reader into the mix of lover-talk and details makes me one of them. I learned this back in 2006/2007 when I met some erotic authors.

I really had mixed emotions about it due to the stigma anything 'erotic' had though I've never been a prude - prudish at times, never a prude. Most people have trouble separating erotic from pornography. I live in a backword world where anything to do with sex is frowned upon outside of your personal relationship with your SO. Sure women read bodice rippers, but they didn't do it in public. My own mother read them. I leaned this one day when she'd forgotten to hide it before coming to the school bring me home due to an illness. One other time, I was sitting at her dressing table getting ready for a school dance and she'd had one stuck in one of the drawers. She snatched it from me so fast it left me with curiosity. What she didn't know was that my grandmother, her mother, allowed me to read whatever I wanted when she I spent weekends. I read the books she read, I read True Magazine - boy I loved that magazine. And later, while I babysat for a former neighbor, I was allowed to read her books. She had stacks of bodice rippers. So, maybe I was predisposed to write erotic romance.

Oh, the covers were much different then they are today - tame and respectable in comparison. At the time, revealing cleavage caused respectable to women to gasp, but when much of the breast was left in full view, surely they were a slut; even a slit up the skirt revealing thigh and hip was unacceptable. Or it all was in the backwards world I was raised in. Nowadays, nothing is really taboo.

Erotic Romance has a come a long, long way since I started writing it back in the late 70's. Even my own writing of it changed over the last four years. We've become more graphic, more detail oriented, more free with the number of scenes. It's clear the market was ready for changes from bodice rippers to erotica, but I think for some there is a fine line between erotic romance and pornography. I'm afraid that rift will always be.

For my own books, it's all about the characters and what works for their relationship. So you'll find none of my books or their covers are on the same level of heat though I do think of them all with high senusal undertones.

Darius Markum, a man Cheri London meets online, agrees to help her conceive a child she wants. Darius sets out to win Cheri's wary heart, but before they can meet, she's injured and a rescuer named Allen comes to her aid. After a night of passion, Cheri returns home without meeting Darius. Or did she? [contemporary]

ISBN 1-60601-040-9 Purchase at: Bookstrand, Kobo, Ebooks.com, All Romance Ebooks, Barnes & Noble, Amazon Kindle.
        

                                                                             

Despite company policy, Cole and Lana are desperate to get their hands on one another, but when she believes he was fired over the one indiscretion, she has to have one night with him before he leaves town. Then she learns the truth. [contemporary]

 

ISBN 1-60601-050-6 Purchase at: Bookstrand, Kobo, Ebooks.com, All Romance Ebooks, Barnes & Noble, Amazon Kindle.

Elan Takoda convinces Cassandra Jones that one night, living the vision they’d both had would rid them of the erotic realism of dreams. But does it? [contemporary paranormal]

 

ISBN 978-1-6098-2300-9 Purchase at: eXcessica, All Romance Ebooks, Amazon, Smashwords, Kobo, Sony, Barnes & Noble, Bookstrand. Also available for download from Apple.

 

Banished from her home, Lillian Basford picked herself up and set out to start a new life. When Samuel Wadkins came along and gave her a real-life taste of what her dreams with him had teased her with, she became torn between her life as it was and what it’d now become. [spicy historical fairy tale]

ISBN: 978-1-4524-3636-4 Purchase at: Smashwords, Kobo, Sony, and Barnes & Noble

 

Thanks for stopping by.

Bekki

http://bekkilynn.net/

Happy Thanksgiving To All Of Our Readers

Thanksgiving
(Edgar Albert Guest, 1881-1959)

Gettin' together to smile an' rejoice,
An' eatin' an' laughin' with folks of your choice;
An' kissin' the girls an' declarin' that they
Are growin more beautiful day after day;
Chattin' an' braggin' a bit with the men,
Buildin' the old family circle again;
Livin' the wholesome an' old-fashioned cheer,
Just for awhile at the end of the year.

Greetings fly fast as we crowd through the door
And under the old roof we gather once more
Just as we did when the youngsters were small;
Mother's a little bit grayer, that's all.
Father's a little bit older, but still
Ready to romp an' to laugh with a will.
Here we are back at the table again
Tellin' our stories as women an men.

Bowed are our heads for a moment in prayer;
Oh, but we're grateful an' glad to be there.
Home from the east land an' home from the west,
Home with the folks that are dearest an' best.
Out of the sham of the cities afar
We've come for a time to be just what we are.
Here we can talk of ourselves an' be frank,
Forgettin' position an' station an' rank.

Give me the end of the year an' its fun
When most of the plannin' an' toilin' is done;
Bring all the wanderers home to the nest,
Let me sit down with the ones I love best,
Hear the old voices still ringin' with song,
See the old faces unblemished by wrong,
See the old table with all of its chairs
An I'll put soul in my Thanksgivin' prayers.

This year, I'm thankful for so much. For having my health back. For not having to work full time so I can spend more time with my family. For old and new friends who've been endless encouragement and fun. For the opportunity to remodel our living room the way we want it and for all the people who have helped us both in the stores, here at the house and online. For our four-legged friends who are a constant comfort and joy.

Wishing you all a Happy Thanksgiving!




Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net

My Palate Was Seduced

Last night, I had the most wonderful wine. Pinot Noir for me is the best wine on the market. However, like in all things, there are bad apples. I've found plenty of bad apples among the choosing, usually choices I've found in the stores such as Cavit Pinot Noir and Arbor Mist Pinot Noir.

In my last position, wine was a big part of our menu selection. We had to know them in order to suggest them. When I started there I really didn't care for wines - too heavy, dry and taste horrible. And definitely didn't find any fun in the drinking of them. I know many people disagree, but somewhere along the six years I was there, I found Pinot Noir to be to my liking. I also like a sweet wine called Moscato Asti.

Often these days when we go out and I'm not driving, I'll order a glass of Pinot Noir. Most are tollerable and I've never had to send one back. I did send a glass of wine back a couple of years ago, though. The server had brought me a glass of Merlot and insisted she did not. When she returned with another glass, I tasted it and my whole body sighed. Yes, there is a difference.

Mirassou Pinot Noir did something that no other has ever done. It caused me to order a second glass. Wow! When our server set the glass down, I sniffed it to make sure it was not a Merlot or some other red. It smelled right, so I tasted it. OMG! It had the most beautiful flavor. I all but guzzled the glass and was on my second before our entree came.

Something else happened, too. I felt giddy and quite buzzed. I feared if I'd had one more glass I would have been dancing on the table. That has never happened before, with wine. Wine typically gives me a headache and makes me lethargic.

I highly recommend Mirassou Pinot Noir - let it seduce you.

I often use Pinot Noir in my stories, but there are so many wines from all the over the world that we all should mix it up some. Wine is a common prop used by writers so why not make them fun for the reader.

Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net

My Friendly Ghosts

By special request, I'm reposting my ghostly post from last year. This is for you, Savanna. Enjoy!

I love Halloween. All the movies, good and bad, fill the cable networks. I’ve been watching SyFy and Chiller for the most part. I love vampires, werewolves and the apparitions. The absurdly stupid, the insanely gory – I love the breath-holding, the heart-pounding terror, the jumpiness.

The paranormal has always fascinated me much to my mother’s despair.

In school, junior high age, we played around with séances in the locker room after gym class, until one of the girls told on us. We’d get hall passes to get out of class and meet in a specific bathroom where we’d turn off the light, stand in front of the mirror, calling for ‘Mary Jane’ – we’d done this several times with nothing happening. And then one day, earlier in the day, only three of us met up. We didn’t really expect anything, but we enjoyed the attempt.

Oh, wow!

A swirling fog appeared in the mirror and we heard sounds like chains rattling. We didn’t hang around for more. We were out of there and down the hall before we realized it and stopped to confirm that each of us saw and heard the same thing. They decided it was enough for them.

However, with my fascination, I wasn’t so easily put off. Wasn’t I frightened? Oh, yeah! Still, I worked myself up to trying it on my own. At first, just being alone in there with the light off was enough send my heart racing and back out the door. Gradually, I worked up to the point where I went all the way. I will tell you right now, that was the last time I did it, too. When the fog cleared and a face appeared in the mirror, I went screaming and didn’t stop until the janitor caught up with me outside the building. It scared the heebie-jeebies out of me, and mom had been called to the school. Never a good thing. She pushed me to church every week after that. I didn’t mind, I met a boy. LOL Whether or not that was the lesser of the two evils for her or not, I don’t know. Not that I was a bad kid, but I think I was growing up way too fast for her.

There’s always been something going on around me. Much I didn’t put together until many years later – hindsight tends to make things clearer. I think my mom tried to shield me while down playing whatever was happening with me. That’s a curse/gift story for another post altogether.

For many years, we've lived with ghosts on and off. We accepted it as no big deal once we adjusted, or had an understanding. Maybe the movies are partly responsible, maybe because we’ve never felt threatened by them, really. Were we ever afraid for the boys’ safety? Only once.

My favorite ghosts were children, we believe. We had bought a house in New Underwood, South Dakota back in the 80’s. A two-story house set near the downtown area of this town of 500. We only had the two older boys at the time and they were school age. My husband worked days at Ellsworth Air Force Base, so it was me along with two kitties and a dog at home. After a month or so, I began hearing noises upstairs. At first, I thought one of the cats had found a stray toy and was batting it around. Then I noticed both of them were sleeping right there in the room with me, and the dog was outside. I was afraid to go upstairs and check it out for myself being new to the house, so I called my husband. He laughed and waited on the phone while I bravely crept up the squeaky steps. I reached the bedroom doorway and peeked around the door jam. No one was in there, but I noticed the bucket of Lincoln logs was in the middle of the room, open. Several pieces lay on the floor, some stacked as if someone were building something. The boys had not left them there. It was a rule and I had checked their rooms before they'd left.

I hightailed it down the stairs and demanded my husband come home right then. I waited outside the entire twenty-minute drive it took to get from the base.

He was laughing when he stepped from the car. Yeah, I have to admit, I must have looked a sight, sitting on the stoop with a stick in one hand and gripping the collar of our German Shorthair with the other as well as the two cats huddled in my lap, wondering why I interrupted their naps.

So, yeah, maybe too many movies influenced my common sense.

Still, having him home lifted much of the fear. I let the dog go, grabbed the kitties and moved from in front of the door. Following my knight in olive drab into the house, I was all but in his back pocket as he thoroughly checked the downstairs, and then crept up the creaky steps.

He stopped half way up and put out a hand stopping me. I hadn’t heard anything, but felt a moment of satisfaction that maybe he had. We listened and nothing. He went on up and into the boy’s room. I looked around him and my mouth fell open. There were no toys out of place. It was as the boys had left it.

I stood there as he looked under the beds, in the closet while trying to convince him I hadn’t imagined what I saw. He crossed the hall and I followed, watching him check the walk-in closet, and the attic closet behind the room. The house was clear of intruders.

I felt somewhat better and he returned to work. What he doesn’t know is that I sat in the corner of the living room on alert until the boys came home. In my warped mind, I feared if I made noise, that I might not hear danger approach.

In the weeks to come, we joked about it. I still heard the play going on only when I was home alone, but never talked of it. I never bothered checking it out. I stayed downstairs and they stayed upstairs.

And then the day came where my husband’s schedule was changed and he was home during the day. The very first day, I was in my little bit of heaven, sitting in my chair with one cat along side me, the other on my lap and knitting away on a blanket. The sounds of kids playing filtered down. I looked over and watched him for a reaction. Pretty soon, he lowered the book he was reading and stared up at the ceiling then at me.

He got up and headed to the stairs. I followed, of course. By now, we’d fixed most of the squeaks in the steps, and knew how to avoid the ones we left to notify us of the kids coming down. We stood outside the doorway and listened. Yes, the noises still went on. We stepped into the doorway and stopped. There in the middle of the room were tinker toys, Legos and Lincoln logs moving around the floor and being stacked. We looked at one another and backed out. He followed me downstairs and sat in his chair silent for a long time.

I made tea and sat on the arm of his chair. He looked at me and said, “I guess we have ghosts.”

Seriously, what was there to say, or do?

The one we did worry about was in our next home. We’d been transferred to Robins Air Force Base, Georgia. We bought a mobile home in Warner Robins. Not long after we moved in, I began to find our front door open in the middle of the night. At first, I wondered if one of the boys had been sleepwalking. They never had before, but uprooting children can have adverse affects. I, too, worried that Jesse, who was four at the time, had decided to sit outside during the night watching the stars and what not. He was fascinated with weather and I often found him sitting in front of the weather channel or CMT during the night.

Things escalated where footsteps in the hallway would wake me and I’d rush out of the bedroom. I hated the layout of the bedrooms. The older boys had the room nearest the front door, the younger ones the room down the hall from them and the master bedroom was at the back. Anyway, the younger two boys would be sound asleep in their beds.

As I went on down the hall, a breeze passed over my face. Never a good sign. When I reached the dining room, I found the patio door wide open. My heart raced and pounded, almost tripping over itself. Continuing on, I’d slip into the other bedroom where my older two were zonked.

Not quite relieved, however, I snatched up a baseball bat and went on through the place. The front door stood open. I crept up on it, then quickly shut it, slamming the bolt in place and locking the deadbolt as we did every night. Slowly, I circled through the living room, hoping I didn't run into anyone as I went through the kitchen back into the dining room. After shutting the patio door and securing it, I tripped over the chair that’d been turned from the table. Then, like a scaredy-cat, I ran back to the bedroom and climbed into bed. It never failed, that’s when my husband would wake. “Are you ok?” he’d ask and be asleep before I could answer.

This went on for several weeks, and needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep. The constant fear of something happening to the boys, the fear of someone playing games until we simply ignored it before they came in with the big blow sat in my mind like a rock. I’d been through something like that before with a business which was eventually burglarized.

While all this was going on, we were on the realtor’s case to give us a history on the place. She didn’t want to bother the elderly we bought it from; the lady was ill; she’d gone to visit family; the excuses became endless until we said we’d go over her head and claim a full-disclosure wasn’t given. Come to find out, the elderly woman’s husband had died in our bedroom. He never slept well, so he’d wonder at night; open the doors and sit staring out the patio door when he felt too warm.

It helped so much to know this. The next time I heard him, I simply asked him to keep the doors shut and locked for the safety of the boys. We fixed the screen door on the patio so it locked tight and he could open the glass for a breeze. Once we had that taken care of, we all lived happily ever after. Well, until we noticed he didn’t seem to be there any longer. We thought maybe he found his wife and went to stay with her, then we learned she passed on and we knew he was content then.

Here, the only ghost we’ve had is my grandfather. I swear, I enjoyed him as much then as I did when he was alive. He was playful, teasing and so much fun to be around. We’d always had a special bond. He came to stay with us the night he died. I’d just received the news and he was right there comforting me. He caressed my cheek and talked to me with my husband sitting right there. For two years, he stayed with us. Sometimes I had to scold him. It didn’t bother me that he’d walk through the house or sit in the den and watch television with sound up loud. It bothered me when I’d be sitting here engrossed in a story and suddenly he’d start opening and shutting the front door. He wanted company. He missed grandma. For many years, they’d sit around the dining table watching television and she’d either be doing word searches or crocheting. They were beloved soul mates and were married more than seventy years when he passed. The day we buried grandma is when he left us to be with her.

So now you know why I'm just plain strange. ;)

Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net/