Hi everyone! Since my next release comes out in about a month, I thought I'd use my blogging opportunity to tell you a little about the book.
For those of you who have read Ceremony of Seduction, you won't be surprised by any of this.
Vision of Seduction is book two of the trilogy and revolves around Katelyn (the Seer) and Prince Grayson.
For those of you who have absolutely no clue what I'm talking about - read on!
Blurb:
From A Vision Of Passion…
Katelyn Hunt is fascinated with the sexy stranger who has been hanging out at her New Age store for the last week. As a Seer, the sensual power she feels from this man of mystery intrigues—and arouses—her. But only his touch allows her to truly see what it would be like to lie beneath him naked and exposed, experiencing complete sexual surrender. And this vision is just the beginning…
To A World Of Pleasure…
As Prince of an otherworldly clan who use sexual energy as their life-force, Grayson de Klatch has searched far and wide for the Seer who can help save his planet. And when he finally finds Katelyn, he knows he has discovered his future mate. His body craves the sex her body so willingly offers and he aches with the need to make this woman his own…
What the Reviewers are saying:
"Deliciously wicked and sexy--intensely satisfying!" --Cheyenne McCray
"Scorching hot sex scenes leave nothing to the imagination." --Romantic Times - 4 Stars
Enough already - show me the excerpt:**Warning, due to word choice, this excerpt is R-rated. Although in relation to the rest of the book - it's pretty PG13...
Misty fog drifted around Katelyn's ankles, even as she recognized the vision for what it was. Twenty-three years of experience made it almost impossible for her to mistake a vision for anything else.
Yet, this one was more vivid than usual—less déjà vu, and more current somehow. She couldn't pinpoint the differences, but she knew.
The air was heavy with water and ripe with the scents of plants and earth. Katelyn couldn't see anything past the mist even though the sun warmed her and shined off the soft green grass under her bare toes. From the smells, this place reminded her of the beautiful grassy meadow in her last vision.
"Good morning, Katelyn."
The deep bass rumble that made her name sound like an exotic delicacy, startled her and she turned toward the voice.
Grayson emerged out of the mist looking much as he had when she'd first seen him walk into her shop. A plain black T-shirt stretched over broad shoulders, which veed down to a tapered waist. Tight jeans molded over muscular thighs before covering the tops of well-worn black cowboy boots.
His dark hair gleamed with amber highlights in the sunlight. He'd pulled it back into a simple ponytail. It looked soft and satiny, and her fingers literally itched to reach out and touch.
Grayson's chiseled jaw and sensual lips would be enough to make him handsome, but those eyes the color of deep melted amethysts made him breathtaking.
Unease skittered along Katelyn's spine as images of the battle inside her shop flooded back. Shit! Did that actually happen?
It must've been another vision. Yet, it hadn't felt like a vision, but something that actually occurred. And why would she vision something so bizarre when all her visions usually came true in some form?
A sinking sensation churned deep inside her belly and she concentrated, attempting to crystallize the images inside her mind's eye.
Try as she might, she couldn't remember anything past the blue beam that slammed into her chest like a sledgehammer. When the vivid memory of the pain searing into her chest made her wince, she knew she hadn't imagined the attack.
Katelyn squeezed her eyes shut trying to block out the memory. Somehow, when the sizzling beam struck her, she had known if it didn't stop draining her energy, she would die. She brought her hand to her chest, wincing as she touched the sore spot left by the beam.
"Am I dead?" Even in her vision, her voice sounded hoarse and unused. Grayson's deep chuckle vibrated through her. She longed to press her body flush against his and ask him to laugh or even speak, so she could see what those wonderful low rumbles would do to her in close proximity.
"No, far from dead, my beautiful Seer. Unconscious, or maybe even asleep, but not dead." He stepped close, and Katelyn's breath caught in her throat.
Heat and energy pulsed between them and every coherent thought fled her mind as she gave herself up to this vision.
"I'm glad you are all right. I have come to help you heal—to help heal us both, actually." Grayson captured a strand of her hair and rubbed it between his thumb and first two fingers. The innocent caress sent gooseflesh marching over her entire body followed by a tingling wave of heat just under her skin. A low moan escaped before she could stop it.
She nearly let her head fall back in surrender before his words, and not his actions filtered to the front of her awareness. "Are you a healer?" she asked. "Your energy is very powerful, but it doesn't feel quite right for a healer."
Grayson laughed, and once again, the beguiling sound roamed over her like a verbal caress. "No, my beautiful Seer. I'm no healer." He traced a single callused finger over her bottom lip and she clenched her fists to keep from leaning into the light friction of his touch. "I'm a Klatch witch, an ancient line of otherworldly witches whose life force is sexual energy."
It was Katelyn's turn to laugh. "Wow, I'll be happy to lend any help in that arena you might need. Although, unfortunately, I'm only human, and while sex is nice—stellar, if I'm lucky—I need rest and time to heal. That is, if I were sick or injured, which I'm not."
He brushed his lips over hers, which left a pleasant buzzing sensation against her skin. "You're wrong, Seer. Healing doesn't follow human rules here. And you're still injured from the energy blast. Trust me."
She stepped back.
"I don't trust anyone," she surprised herself by blurting out something she had thought to herself countless times before.
Grayson only smiled. "I know, my beautiful Seer. Then let me show you instead." Before she could argue the point, he pulled her tight against him. He plunged his fingers into her hair while he captured her mouth with his.
Her hands found his chest, and her frantic mind sent her arms a signal to push him away, but her body betrayed her, and her fingers fisted in the soft cloth of his T-shirt. Heat sizzled between them and she felt like she would drown in the overwhelming sensations. Finally, his lips gentled against hers and she was able to step away from him. She swayed slightly, but locked her knees and stared him down. "What are you doing to me?"
Grayson didn't state the obvious, but seemed to instinctively understand her real question. "Every Klatch has a special gift, and mine is to cause arousal in others. I can control it, but it comes very naturally, and most of the time, I don't even realize I'm doing it."
"It's bad enough you're a walking wet dream, but now you think you can cause magical arousal?" She slapped her hand over her mouth as she realized she'd said the words out loud. Arousal, hell. So far he's some sort of truth serum!
A pleased expression lit his already too-handsome features. "Not only have you shown more resistance to my inherent gift than any Klatch woman ever has, but you seem to have the same effect on me. No woman has ever affected me like this. Until you."
Inside her mind, she laughed at the ridiculousness of his statement. He thought she'd shown resistance? Hell, if Ethel hadn't interrupted, she might've backed him up against her display case and taken advantage of him right there.
Besides, he was delusional. He had to be. She'd never encountered any type of magick or energy that would do what he described. It sounded more like a case of male ego, and less like an "inherent gift." Katelyn held up her hand stop sign fashion. "On demand arousal. Right. I don't buy it." She fisted her hands on her hips and glared up at him. "Hit me with your best shot, Mr.-Goddess's-Gift-to-Womankind. Show me this 'inherent gift.'"
Grayson sighed as if disappointed in her lack of belief. "You're a very stubborn woman, Seer. Please remember that you specifically asked for this demonstration." He shrugged. "Although it will help you heal, so I suppose it can't hurt."
She snorted. "You have no idea how stubborn I can be." Katelyn held her arms wide as if making herself a bigger target. "Bring it on, stud."
Grayson never moved, but a wave of his energy surrounded her and her entire body burned with desire.
Her breasts ached almost painfully.
Her pussy throbbed with need.
Even her skin felt like it might explode if she didn't have Grayson inside her.
Katelyn wanted hot, kinky, explosive sex, and she wanted it now.
She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, drawing in lungfulls of air as she battled against her urges and desires.
Katelyn pictured a shield made of pure white light that surrounded her body and blocked his energy.
Immediately, the assault lessened, but didn't stop. Apparently, even her strongest shields couldn't totally protect her. He hadn't been kidding about his "gift."
"Enough." The word slipped from her lips with effort, and she hoped Grayson heard it over the pounding of blood inside her head.
Just as quickly as the desire began, it stopped, as if Grayson had flipped a switch.
Katelyn locked her knees, fisted her hands, and screwed her eyes shut tight. She refused to crumple to the ground with relief like she wanted to.
When her heart had slowed enough that she was sure it wouldn't pound right out of her chest, she opened her eyes. She expected his expression to be smug. Instead, it was apologetic. He stood stock still as if afraid to come closer.
"Okay." Katelyn sucked in a shaky breath. "Remind me not to ask for any future demonstrations from you."
My husband says all the technology in my life is conspiring against me.
And unfortunately, I’m starting to think he’s right. There’ve been several examples: the garage door opener that only works for me intermittently, but always works for him; the DVD player that refused to load for me on ANY disk I tried, and worked for him on the first try; and even the AMC theatres pre-bought ticket machine yesterday…sigh.
So I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when last Wednesday I booted up my trusty pink Mac and got a flashing file folder with a question mark instead of my friendly background picture. Unfortunately, hubby wasn’t able to get the Mac to work like he does with everything else and we had to take it down to the Apple store. They promptly told me my entire hard drive was toast, and they hoped I had backed up my data. EEK! Luckily, they exchanged the hard drive for a new one for free, and I did have backups. I had an entire laptop backup on Time Machine from a month ago, and before I left to speak at the Heart of Denver Romance Writers last weekend, I backed up my writing file and a few other folders I couldn’t live without.
Anyway, I consoled myself with Starbucks on the way home and the knowledge that my hubby has an affinity with technology and could fix my “baby” good as new.
I was having some serious laptop withdrawal when he came into the living room looking like someone had died. That’s when I got that icy cold sensation of dread curling inside my belly and making me nauseous—you know the one I’m talking about. Yup—my month-old backup was corrupted and wouldn’t load. That meant everything I hadn’t backed up the week before—pictures, emails, desktop, tax spreadsheets, and a hundred other things that flashed through my mind were gone.
Sigh…
I let myself pout and rail against the universe for all of about five minutes before taking a deep breath and reminding myself that A) I had only lost about 8K on my WIP from what I had done Sunday after I’d gotten home from Denver, and then Monday and Tuesday. And I did have all the work I’d done on my Alpha Smart since the demise of my poor laptop, and B) the situation was what it was and whining wasn’t going to buy me anything but stress.
My hubby closeted himself back inside the office messing with my laptop all the rest of Friday and all a good chunk of Saturday.
Anyway, much to my surprise, he found a program somewhere on the internet for $100 that allowed him to fix 95% of the corruption issues within my backup and restore most of my files. Woo Hoo! What a man! Gorgeous, sweet AND he recovered most of my data!! :)
So, yesterday morning when I woke up, I found my trusty pink Mac on my recliner in the living room, and I started the process of restoring the files I’d backed up right before I left for Denver, and finding out how much data I had lost from a month-old backup within my non critical files.
I think the biggest gap is on my emails—some of my accounts didn’t keep the email account history on the server, so those are gone. (So, if you wrote me and haven’t heard back, you may want to try again!) and my Sent history for the past month is totally gone.
Anyway, that’s my computer saga. And as much as I work with technology, it does become frustrating at times—like my automatic backup failing just a few minutes ago, for some unnamed reason! Sigh! But I’m thankful for what was saved, and thankful I can get back to my book today now that life is back to normal. Hopefully, that 8K won’t take too long to make up, and here’s hoping it’s even better the second time I write it.
Does anyone else have my same luck with technology? Or is it just me? LOL!
I've been writing seriously for publication since 2003, and on and off for many years before that. So, I've had quite a few chances to listen to different speakers, read books and be exposed to all manner of tips, tricks and learnings on the subject of writing.
What have I discovered?
One of my biggest pet peeves in the entire world, that's what. It irritates me more than a bra that rides up when someone says that if you don't write a certain way (usually THEIR way,) then you're doing it wrong.
Now, let me clarify that before all the purists spit out their morning coffee at the computer screen. As with every body of knowledge, there is the good, the bad and the questionable advice. Now, I'm not talking about the basics. For example, if you are writing a romance, your hero and heroine have to have their happily ever after - that's a given. If you aren't going to give them that, then what you're writing isn't romance. If you're writing erotic, you can't fade out at the bedroom door, and okay, you must must must have conflict, plot, big black moment and characterization etc. And yes, too many was/ing word combinations tend to make your writing passive and back story dumps usually aren't a good thing... You get the picture.
But what I'm talking about is the HOW, not the technique, necessarily. We must remember that what works for one person will NOT necessarily work for another.
I recently heard a speaker who was quite an accomplished author sit in a room full of fellow writers and tell them that if they aren't detailed plotters, they will never be successful - end of discussion. And she was quite hauty about it. Now, I'm a combo pantser/plotter and I've published several books. But even beyond that, I was sitting behind a USA Today and NYT Best Selling Author with dozens of books out who I know is not a detailed plotter. And just across the room was a RITA winning author who had also hit the USA Today lists several times, and again - she's not a detailed plotter either. So, I don't think the "will never be successful" was necessarily true. And even when these two women spoke up - the speaker sniffed disdainfully and said she stood by her statement.
I've also heard people say if you start out by publishing at an ePub, NY editors will NEVER look at your work. Hmmm, I started in ePubs and so did one of the two ladies I mentioned above, and I know dozens of others as well who are now published with New York. And most are still with ePubs as well. There are perks to both systems.
Then there was the speaker who told the crowd of mostly new writers that if they didn't write for at least forty hours a week, they would never get published. I remember that workshop well because the moderator spoke up. She is a multi-published, award-winning author who writes during her one hour lunch every day during the week and for four hours on Saturday and four hours on Sunday. She's written dozens of books that way. So, in only 13 hours a week, she's built a writing career.
I'm sure if you think back, all of you have seen examples of this. How many newbie writers have been scared off this path by those supposedly in the "know" telling them there is a better chance of them winning the lottery than them being published, or if they don't have some sort of degree in English, they can't write a novel or any of a thousand other things?
As you can tell, this is a hot button for me, and I grind my teeth every time I hear someone give an "absolute" like that. There are no absolutes in this business. Hell, even some of the "basics" I listed above aren't be all, end all absolutes. The business changes and morphs all the time and we need to run to catch up.
Here's my advice to newbie writers - write the book, however it works for you. Continue to learn everything you can about writing. Write, write, write, and make sure you take all advice with a grain of salt - even from those with successful careers. What worked for them, may not necessarily work for you. Go with your gut and finish the book! Then, shop it around, submit, submit, submit - and see what kind of feedback you get. That will give you an idea of what you need to change/fix, and always be leery of anyone giving you statements that are absolutes! And most of all - never ever give up. Don't let someone steal your dream!
Here's my advice for speakers - give others the benefit of your experience, but remember that their path to success may not be the same as yours. What works for you, may not work for them. And if you can't be motivational, uplifting and helpful to those you are speaking to - then why are you up there? They are there to find out what's in it for them, not to bask in your affluence and knowledge. Yes, speaking gets your name out there, but do you want to be remembered as the person who discouraged a new writer so much that they never tried? Or the writer who inspired them to try and succeed even in the face of what felt like insurmountable opposition? Think on this one long and hard. When we speak, when we blog, when we share our knowledge in any venue or any area, we are affecting others, sometimes more than we think.
Okay, stepping down from soap box now, and off to write. Hopefully, my rant gave you something to think about and go "hmmm." Also, I'm hoping I don't get flame mail from a bunch of speakers now...LOL!
I guess that should be one of the universal truths in life. It was something I definitely learned as I got older. I'm getting close to forty years old, and yet, I don't feel a whole lot different than I did in my twenties--except I can't stay out all night without paying for it the next day. But you know what I mean. Of course, I've grown, I'm matured, I'm more confident, but inside, being thirty-eight doesn't feel very different from all those other ages. In fact, I remember vividly all those stupid and really fun things I did when I was younger that I'm glad I did! I don't have a lot of regrets, because even those made me who I am today. And I'm definitely glad I had my wild and woolly days, so I can look back and laugh and enjoy them now that I'm a little more settled. (Except when I'm at RT, but hey, that shouldn't count...lol!)
Lately, I've found out how much this axiom applies to writing and writers. Now, I'm convinced writers are a very insecure breed of animal. I know each and every time I write a book, I'm afraid it's crap and that the public in general are going to gag when they read it. Then I'm pleasantly surprised when reviewers like it, it sells well and I get emails and letters from readers telling me they can't wait for the next book in the series. And it's not just whole books that suffer from this. Every time I finish a chapter and send it off to my critique group, I'm afraid they are going to come back and ask what the hell I'm thinking by sending them this drivel!
I know I'm not alone in this. I have friends who are NYT & USA Today Best Selling authors, as well as those who are just published and those who are pre published. And the universal truth is, all of them (or us, I should say) react the same way I mentioned in the paragraph above.
Don't get me wrong, we enjoy our successes. As for me, I'm a multi-published author with two pen names and a loyal and very vocal fan base. And it still makes me smile and my throat tighten with excitement every time I see my books on the shelf in a store. I'm very proud of what I've accomplished. Hell, I was too terrified to even begin writing for publication until 2003 when my husband told me to stop talking about it and just go do it. So, in a short time, I've accomplished a lot. I'm happy, I'm proud, I'm still plugging along and know I will continue to grow and improve as a writer. So what's my problem?
I think it's back to the axiom above. I don't feel any different. I know all these accomplishments are real, and yet, they don't feel different. My friend, the NYT and USA Today Best Seller concurs. Don't you think that when you get that call that you are on one or both of those lists that your life should change and you should feel like you've reached some sort of writing milestone? Hmmm. Well, apparently it's great and nice and all that, but it doesn't feel different. You don't suddenly feel like a "NYT or USA Today Best Selling Author," and you are still afraid your book isn't great when you're writing it. Although, there is then pressure to reach those marks with every book.
Things that make you go "hmmm."
I guess it's not just me who feels just a tad like an imposter about to be unmasked every time I sit down at a book signing.
So, if no matter how high we climb (or how much we accomplish), there we are, then it should take a lot of comparison pressures out of it.
I know authors who are constantly comparing themselves and their writing career to others. Some of them spend so much time doing this, I'm surprised they have time to write. It stresses them out and leaves them less creative energy to move forward with their own work.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a Saint (and I'm not just referring to all that fun I had in my twenties...lol...and I must admit, my thirties have been pretty enjoyable too...) Now and then I glance at the people above me on sales lists etc and there is a twinge of longing, but I try to shut that down quickly. Comparison serves no purpose other than to undermine my confidence. My concentration should remain on what I can affect--namely, my books, my career and my experience.
Because remember, no matter how high they get or you get--there you are! You are going to be the same person!! Definitely proud of what you've accomplished, but it won't change you as a person. You won't suddenly become happier with your overall life because you hit a NYT Best Seller's list, or sold another series. You might for a night--especially if there is champagne involved, or while you're buying some new earrings with your advance, and you should celebrate! But you'll be disappointed if you think that these career milestones will suddenly turn your life into nirvana--happiness comes from the inside out, not the outside in.
So, at the risk of sounding like an after school special - be happy for the accomplishments of others, and be happy for your own accomplishments. Treasure both and enjoy the journey. Because the lasting memories will come from the work you did to get there, not necessarily the prize. (Although those are nice too!)
Two days ago I spoke to a college English class on Living The Life of a Writer: Is it Really All Glamour & Bon Bons?
Their questions and their enthusiasm really took me back to when I was sitting in those same seats, dreaming of one day holding my own book in my hands and seeing it on the shelves of a bookstore.
I do vividly remember sitting in an English class imagining how my life would be. Not really thinking I’d ever write full time, but figuring I would pen some novels on the side on breaks from my well-paying day job. Now to be honest, I did picture myself with pad and paper sitting on a sunny patio under an umbrella sipping some fruity drink while I wrote the next NYT Bestselling #1 hit book. The gentle breeze teasing my hair, while my hottie hubby was down swimming in the ocean, the water glistening off his six pack abs. Oh and did I mention I looked glamorous and hot and still weighed what I did in college—not to mention that body parts were still tight and firm and hadn’t moved South? (Ahh, the imagination of youth…LOL!)
Little did I know the reality would be far from the above. I AM actually writing full time, I gave up my well-paying day job so I COULD write full time. And I could NOT imagine writing my books in long hand—I have an intimate relationship with my laptop. No umbrella, fruity drink or patio overlooking the ocean, although I do have a pool in the backyard, but it’s usually too hot to sit out there to write. I DO have a hottie younger hubby, but he’s usually doing work on his computer or watching TV in the recliner rather than down swimming and being eye candy inspiration for me while I write! And let’s not even discuss the tight/firm body parts situation.
But strangely, I remember those youthful aspirations with a smile. Hey, at least I knew what myths I was out to bust with my talk to those college kids!
When I was in school, we never had an actual published author come and speak to us, but I remember the teachers answering my questions as best they could at the time. Although none of their answers really resembled the information I gave in my talk. Don’t get me wrong—all but one teacher really encouraged me to go after my dreams and write. And that one teacher was the one who told me I was a good writer, but no one would ever buy any of my books if all I wrote was that “weird” stuff (aka paranormal) threaded in with all that sarcasm! Well, lucky for me, I didn’t listen to her at all, because all of my books have both of those things in major doses. The rest of the teachers were all very supportive, and even if they didn’t quite believe I’d make it—never gave me that impression—or at least I don’t remember it.
Anyway, when I found myself in front of that college class, I wanted to present a true picture of what it is to be a writer—the money, the realities of the publishing biz, the deadlines, the legalities, the lifestyle—along with a huge dollop of motivation. And with every question and every answer, I tried to give them as many facts as possible without being discouraging.
I’ve heard too many talks over the years where someone seemed hell bent on making the masses think they could never have their dream, or that they were insane if they thought they could be that one in a crowd who actually finished a novel and got it published. And those people and their message always made me angry. Who are they to take away that hope from someone else?! (Can you tell that’s a hot button for me?)
I walked out of there a little nostalgic for my ignorance of old, but also oddly happy that despite all my delusions of youth, I’d made my dream come true. And even despite the things I remember and miss fondly (like the tight firm body) I’m happy with my life and very glad I never let anyone discourage me along the way. How funny to think I would be horrified if my thirty-eight-year-old self time traveled back to my seventeen-year-old self and told that poor girl what she was in store for, but from this side of the passage of time, it doesn’t look so bad. I think that actually proves the old adage that ignorance is bliss.
I’m curious to see what the kids thought—even if they hated the talk I brought bookmarks, buttons & chocolate—so who knows, maybe somewhere in between the snarkily-presented facts and answers and the bribery at the end, they learned something that will help them end up happily when they are ancient like me. (Don’t you all remember when you thought 30 was way past middle age?)
At the very least, it reminded me to appreciate where I’m at in life and to never take for granted what I have. Not bad for an hour spent…
