Category/Genre: Adult science fiction

Word Count: 82,000


A ballsy attitude won’t save rogue biohunter Niobe’s neck when she’s falsely accused as the source of deadly new bioweapons wreaking havoc across a resource-starved North America, and must track down the real killers.

If the MC was an Easter egg…

Screw Easter Eggs. I’m fine whisky poured from a long, steel-capped red leather boot.

Excerpt: 300 words. 

Barton’s wheat beer was second to none, Niobe thought, as she took a long pull of cool brew. You had to hand it to the guy – he could tickle a good beer out of just about any crop but his wheat beer was a mouthful of farm girl and sunshine. Shame about the company, but she could sit with nomads, scavengers and other human flotsam if it meant a good drink.

Barton’s saloon/charge station/brothel, built conveniently just a day from the abandoned riches of Pittsburgh, attracted the best quality low-life. It was run by the brawny, hirsute publican Terry Barton – one of a long line of Bartons who had steered the establishment through the upheavals of climate change and, to all appearances, continued to serve alcohol, food, and sex to locals and travelers in much the same fashion for nearly two centuries.

Niobe figured the Bartons must have married their sisters to preserve a bloodline that delivered menfolk built like mastodons, as evidenced by the row of Barton portraits lined up above the bar. She found herself glaring back at the bushy-eyebrowed, block-jawed faces that stared down, unsmiling, at the dusty rabble occupying the room.

The brew cooled its way down her throat as she cast her eyes around the bar, stifling a belch with the back of her hand. The dark wood-paneled room featured the expected bar paraphernalia – the obligatory Texas longhorn skull, battered road signs, moth-eaten national flags, and Barton’s prized collection of street signs salvaged from the decaying, flooded streets of New York.

The establishment was set up with the aim of keeping Barton’s customers comfortable, contained, and feeling groovy. Ceiling fans kept the air moving, a deep cellar kept the beer cold, a creative cook kept the food interesting, and Barton’s resident musician rotated drunkenly from piano to guitar to fiddle to keep the patrons entertained.  





Category/Genre: Adult Fantasy

Word Count: 87,000

Pitch: A millennium ago a technology-driven Cataclysm shattered the continent. Now Erissa and Radha must bridge distrust between wielders of living magic and seekers of ancient technology to stop an invading army from a forgotten realm.

If the MC was an Easter egg…

Peppermint for her frozen heart, Chocolate for her daughter, Serrano pepper for her warrior’s spirit. 

Excerpt: 300 words. 

Legend says, powerful mechanisms protected ancient Galdor until the Cataclysm shattered the land a thousand years ago, creating a hundred islands.  My mother’s vision showed an invasion force sweeping across the Isles. Then she saw a weapon that could stop it. Is it ancient technology?

 Erissa Filidh, 899 years After Cataclysm (yAC)

When I was fifteen and still learning the bard’s craft, I believed my future held no surprises. That was before I learned that the old tales about lost technologies understated the truth.

– Radha Darkstone, 1046 yAC

I. Song of Silence 

Erissa Filidh glided through the pattern of her sword exercise. After four centuries, each movement was precise, automatic. She finished the sequence, her sword in a guard position, ready to transition to the next. Her muscular curves dripped with sweat despite the winter chill pervading her practice room. A frown crossed her sun-bronzed face. Radha’s harp should fill the house this time of day.

She relaxed as the first notes wafted through the doorway, then froze when she realized they were not from her daughter’s harp, but hers. Her lips flattened. She marched up the stairway to the sunroom, halting a foot from the harp. Her leaf-colored eyes looked like they could cut through flesh. 

Radha’s hands fell from the crystalline strings. Her eyes locked with her mother’s as she rose, nearly toppling her stool. She preempted the expected lecture. 

“Yes, I touched your precious harp. Someone should.” She’d inherited Erissa’s pointed ears and compact form, but her human father’s dark skin and fiery temper.

Erissa froze. She required every ounce of the self-control gained during centuries of practice to keep her sword at her side.

“You know my rule.” Her words flew like lances of ice to penetrate her target. “Nobody. Touches. That. Harp.”



Category/Genre: Adult Paranormal Romance
Word Count: 105,000
Pitch: Ages past, Odin created shape-shifting wolves to guard his enemy
 Fenrir. Now Fenrir’s escape looms, and Alpha wolf Erik must rely on a
 woman he wants but doesn’t trust or the Norse gods will die.
If the MC was an Easter egg...
Caramel - because I'm golden, baby.
Excerpt: 300 words. 
Leave it to Gina to kill her before she even got to the compound.
 Kristin sucked back air and grabbed the sides of her seat as the big,
 black SUV barreled toward them, horn blaring. Her foster-sister, long
 red nails flashing on the wheel, swerved left, throwing Kristin against
 the passenger door with a bang. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited
 for her world to end for the second time in her life – tossing the gods
 a quick prayer for good measure.
 When the car slowed then came to an abrupt halt without the death blow
 she’d anticipated, she unclenched her teeth and took a deep breath. “I
 said ‘pull-over’, not ‘kill us now’.” 
 Gina snorted as she cut the Mini’s engine. “Technicalities.”
 Opening her eyes to a bright, summer day and gorgeous mountain view,
 Kristin’s relief evaporated and she once again resisted the urge to
 curse. The Mini was parked sideways a foot away from a steep drop off –
 and no guard rail. Anxiety snaked through her belly and twisted it. 
 “Not funny,” she muttered. 
 “Consider it behavioral therapy. I’m helping you face your fears.”
 “Uh-huh. Cause that’s what you’re all about. The helping.” 
 Gina stepped out of the car and sauntered to the edge of the cliff. Her
 gauzy, white skirt revealed shapely legs, and her crocheted, pink halter
 top exposed way too much boob. 
 Although if Kristin had a rack like that she’d probably flaunt it, too. 
 After glaring at her sister, she jutted her chin up and climbed from the
 car, her booted feet as far as possible from the edge as she
 side-stepped toward the hood. All the while telling herself her fear of
 cliffs wasn’t real. 
 Below her, Wolf Ridge Industries, AKA the Valdyr compound, nestled in a
 wide, rocky valley. A thrill shot through her, and she released her
 breath with a loud ‘whoosh’.



Easter Nest Pitch Hunt Is Now On!

Drafy Nest Pich Logo last stageThe Nest Pitch agent round is now on! 

The Slush Bilbies have sorted through the entries to help the Nest Bloggers whittle down the entries. Now the top seventy-two entries have made it through and are waiting for agents to hop on by to make requests.  

Please remember that until the agents have finished making their selections, comments are for agents only. If you want to cheer on your favorite prior to then, you can do it in the comments of this post.  

Between now and 8am April 19th USA EDT  

To find out more about the Nest Pitch Easter Pitch Hunt go here and the Rules and Conditions here. You can find the full schedule here and the participating agents here

Here are my selections – all very intriguing!

 JK-1 ADULT Paranormal Romance – WØLFF: RISE OF THE VALDYR


JK-3 ADULT Science Fiction – BIOHUNTER

JK-4 NA Science Fiction – VIRTUAL REBEL


JK-6 NA Paranormal Romance – THE FERGUS SHE

JK-7 NA Romantic Ghost Story – UNDER THE YELLOW ROSE



 You can find the rest of the entries snuggled safely in the other bloggers nests: 

 Brooke Powell    

Kimberly P. Chase   

Sharon Johnston

Tina Moss     

Amanda Foody   

Dannie Morin  

Sharon Bayliss   

Stacey Nash 


 Good luck to everyone who has made it to this point! May your nest be filled with lots of chocolatey requests.  


Kicking People Out of the Room

daffodilsThe daffodils are in full bloom – always such a pleasure to see them arrive.

 I’m teaching an online workshop this week and next, on writing sex scenes. In the course of introductions, many of the participants mentioned that they feel nervous or awkward writing sex. I wrote up this piece as a side topic, so I thought I’d reproduce it, in part, here.

* * *

Feeling awkward writing sex scenes? Not everybody suffers from this, but more do than don’t. Very often I find that the “brand” of the erotic romance author is to be bawdy and over the top. It’s frankly not one I’m comfortable with.

Does that surprise you? If you’ve read some of my sexier books, you’ll know that I don’t shy away from much. However, that’s “in the bedroom” for me.

Yes, I’m a subscriber to the “lady in the drawing room, whore in the bedroom” approach to life. 🙂 In a polite society kind of way, not a sexist way. I think men should be gentlemen in the drawing room and animals in the bedroom, too. That’s just part of not stepping on each others’ toes. My grandmother drilled ladylike behavior into my head so thoroughly that I *still* hear her voice when I step over some line of polite behavior.

We all have this, to a greater or lesser extent. We grow up being taught what’s appropriate and what isn’t. Where those lines are depend on the family. But from the time we’re little and people are spelling out S*E*X in our hearing, we learn that there are naughty words that must not be spoken aloud and naughty acts we must never do.

Or, when we become randy teenagers and actually DO them – we mustn’t let anyone know about it.

The most important thing is to know this about ourselves. It’s not a failing. It’s being human, a person in a reasonably polite society.

That said, when I sit down to write? My grandmother has no business being in the room. I don’t need her looking over my shoulder and saying “Jeffe!” in that particularly scandalized tone of voice I still hear so well.

So I kick her out of the room.

This is an important skill for writers of all types. The memoirists talk about this, too, because there are so many people in their heads saying they can’t reveal family secrets. To write the real, meaningful stories, they have to kick the gatekeepers out of the room.

As you’re writing the sexy scenes, when that awkward feeling comes over you, listen and identify whose voice that is. Then kick them out of the room.

Write their name down on a piece of paper if you have to. Then ball it up and throw it out the door. Or burn it in an ashtray. Make a list and then hit DELETE on every one. Whatever it takes.

That blogger who said she hates writers who use that word? Kick her out.

Your great aunt Tilly with the pursed mouth? Kick her out.

Your dad, aghast that his little angel knows about THAT? Kick him out.

Kick everybody out of the room until it’s just you and your characters. Repeat as necessary.

On Sale for 99 Cents!

Thunder on the Battlefield v2 coverThunder on the Battlefield, the fabulous anthology that contains Negotiation, the prequel story to The Mark of the Tala, is on sale through Friday, April 11! You can get the digital book for only 99 cents.

Hell of a deal!