Tuesday, July 30, 2013
I spent my life trying to be a good girl and follow all the rules. I certainly never intended to be a naughty novelist. But sometimes, despite our best intentions to be good, mischief bubbles up.
After years of writing sweet romances with a hint of humor and heat (none of which sold), I started experimenting. I wrote a short erotic novel entitled Adam’s Obsession. It was so much frickin fun to write, the sequel, Tristan’s Temptation just flowed out. Both were very sweet, thread through with a ribbon of kink. Then, one day at work when I was stuck in a boring meeting, I wrote Pushing her Buttons which is a little grittier, on the borderline of BDSM.
At my friend’s urging, I entered all three into a contest sponsored by Celtic Hearts and—imagine my shock—all three won. The final judge was Kelli Collins from Ellora’s Cave. She asked to see more. Ellora’s Cave bought all three and before I knew it, this good girl was an erotic author!
It’s been an interesting journey. Exciting at times, bewildering at others, but I have to say, being naughty is certainly more fun than being good. Especially at events like RomantiCon, Ellora’s Cave’s smoking conference. Held in October near their home base in Ohio, the conference strives to connect readers and their favorite erotic authors. And did I mention Cavemen??? If you go, don’t miss the opportunity to pose for a cover photo with these gorgeous men.
I’ll be there, signing copies of Dark Fancy, my steamy erotic Regency, along with plenty of other naughty erotic authors. It’s a lot of fun. I will also be attending the Jimmy Thomas Romance Novel Convention in Vegas in August. It you are planning to attend, stop by and say “Hi” during the book fair or author meet and greet.
When I am not attending conference and hanging out with cover models, I am writing. My most recent release is a heart wrenching erotic fantasy. If you dig a steamy, wounded hero in desperate need of redemption, check it out. Here’s a taste…
For thousands of years, Keeshan has waited. A curse put him in the lamp, damning him to an eternity of pleasing the women who find it. Each time, the women enter the lamp, ensnared in a web of lust and love. And each time, just as he grows to care, the women leave.
But Aimalee is different somehow. With her, Keeshan’s desire knows no bounds—he needs to be with her, inside her, every second she’s there, like an addict who just can’t get enough. Eventually she’ll leave just like the others but until then, Keeshan plans to indulge her every sinful urge. And maybe, just maybe, she’s the key to breaking the curse.
Inside Scoop: This paranormal romance features a plus-size heroine and a hero who worships her curves.
A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Aimalee picked up a clipboard and pretended to scan the sheet on top. “I have to get back to work. Did you want anything else?”
“There was one other thing. Carter asked if you could, you know, not come tonight.”
“Not come tonight?” Aimalee whirled around and gaped at Sorcha. She’d been working on this display for months, utterly devoted to this project for years. She’d been so looking forward to showing off her work, presenting her findings. She’d even bought a new dress for heaven’s sake.
That happened, maybe, once a decade or so.
“It’s going to be quite a crush. All the big benefactors will be there. And you are…” Sorcha made a scornful little flourish with slender fingers. Her expression said it all—mousy. Aimalee knew it to be true. She knew what she was. But having Sorcha point it out rankled.
“This is my display.”
“Sure. Do what you need to set it up but then make yourself scarce. Be out of there by seven. ’Kay?” Sorcha pinned on a dazzling smile. “I told him you’d understand.”
With that she spun on her Jimmy Choos and waltzed from the room, elegantly swinging between boxes and crates and piles of books, leaving Aimalee sitting at her worktable, reeling with shock and repressed rage.
Make yourself scarce.
The mandate of her entire existence.
The fuck she wasn’t coming tonight. She’d worked far too long, far too hard on her dissertation, on this presentation, to simply fade into the background now when it was all coming to fruition. This was her baby. Oh, she’d be there. Come hell or high water.
Without thinking, without redonning her protective gloves—a monumental no-no in the museum world—Aimalee picked up the lamp and a cleaning cloth and began to polish her treasure. A deep sense of satisfaction and pleasure spiked through her, assuaging her annoyance.
Okay, so her love life was more than a little disappointing and frustrating. And yes, her professional prospects were limited but at least she loved her work. Really loved her work…
She renewed her invigorated scrubbing on that one smudge that just wouldn’t wipe away.
Imagine the gall. Asking her to miss the night of her life so Sorcha could stand in the limelight at Carter’s side and reap the rewards.
Aimalee rubbed harder and faster, fury rising like a chained beast in her belly. A red tide descended, blurring her vision. Everything beyond the lamp faded. The world beyond her passion, her work, dissolved.
She’d had enough of this.
Enough hiding her relationship.
Enough elicit, hurried trysts.
Her movements slowed as a strange sensation crawled down her spine from her neck to her solar plexus. It pooled in her womb. Her fingers and toes began to tingle. Throb. Prickles of excitement and anticipation skittered over her skin. Her body warmed, softened, dampened.
Her hand flew to her nape where gentle tendrils caressed her—like a lover’s whisper. The tingling increased and contracted and wafted inward to settle just below her pounding heart. Her essence condensed, coalesced, as light as smoke, wafting and roiling. A strange sense of unreality, of disengagement, overcame her. She closed her eyes and the dizzy sensation increased. She tried to open them again but couldn’t. She twisted, curled, floated in the ether. A great whooshing sensation rocked her consciousness, sucking her into a smaller and smaller space. A dark place.
And then an eerie silence, a supreme stillness, descended.
About Sabrina York
Sabrina is an award winning author of erotic romance with nearly a dozen titles available, ranging from sweet & sexy erotic romance to BDSM to erotic horror. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york or Facebook. Learn how to win a tiara in her ongoing contest here. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on her webpage (www.sabrinayork.com) or explore on Amazon or at Ellora’s Cave.
Posted by Meg Benjamin at 4:00 AM