Capturing the Moment–Cover Reveal


I received a wonderful email from Totally Bound today-my cover for Capturing the Moment!


Meg and RJ were passionately in love. But that was six years and a broken engagement ago.

Meg has only one day in Siem Reap, Cambodia. She fulfills her dream of taking a photograph of the sun rising behind Angkor Wat, one of the oldest temples in the world. But her joy is short -lived when she turns around to see RJ standing behind her.

RJ threw himself into work after Meg ended their relationship. He’s built a successful business, but it’s a hollow victory. He’s come to Siem Reap to win back the woman he’s never stopped loving. But first he has to convince her to spend the day with him.

Meg is as physically attracted to RJ as she ever was. Maybe the secret to getting over him is a one-day-only, no-strings-attached fling?

Can RJ win Meg back, or will she love him and leave him?

Pre-order starts on March 14. I’ll keep you updated as we get closer to the date.—

Odds and Ends

Today’s post is full of random bits, so I’m going to just do a bullet points entry

  • The very belated winner from the Thanksgiving Blog Hop is The Red Cross. A donation was made, and proof sent to the winning comment.
  • On a related note, I’ve had a story titled “The Finer Things in Life” accepted for another Coming Together anthology–Coming Together: Keeping Warm, scheduled to release on Dec 25
  • Before Keeping Warm is released, you’ll get to read “The Finer Things in Life” on Tamsin’s Supererotica Advent Calendar.
  • Speaking of Tamsin, did you know that she has released the December chapter of Alchemy XII? As a beta reader, I’m obviously a bit biased, but I’m so proud of her and I think it’s an amazing BDSM novel.
  • Thinking of novels–or Novellas, in my case–Capturing the Moment will be available for pre-order from Totally Bound on March 15, for purchase on Totally Bound on March 29 and for sale widely on April 29, 2016



And finally, greetings from paradise. We saw this beautiful rainbow appear over our hotel yesterday.


Other Days

Other Days

I’m very proud to announce that Other Days has been published.  The story I excerpted the other day, “The Choices that Damn Us” is included in this anthology.  Available now on Amazon US/US in kindle form (book form in a week or so) and in paperback on createspace.  Kobo, smashwords and other formats in early 2015 (due to some Amazon rules).

Obviously I’m proud of my story, but I want to take a moment to tell you about my friend Jessica’s story “Lessons Learned.”  If you have ever wondered who the real Jack the Ripper was, you’ll want to read this one. I love the build of dramatic tension throughout and the ending gave me chills.

Here’s an excerpt of “Lesson Learned”

“Come on, Polly,” I overheard Ellen try to convince Mary Ann to go back to the lodging house, and remembered seeing the nickname in the files. Mary Ann was drunk and refused to go. I heard her tell Ellen she’d earned her doss money three times over already that night (and then spent it all at the Frying Pan) and was certain that with her new bonnet, she’d make it again.

Ellen gave up and walked away. I went cold. The bonnet. The new bonnet. Would she be out here at all if it weren’t for me and that bonnet? I felt dizzy, like the whole world was spinning around me. Leaning against a cool brick wall, I tried to catch my breath.

“Jules? Julie! You there?” A cacophony of voices shouting my name in my ear brought me back to my senses.

“Uh…yeah. Yes, I’m here.” I shook my head to wake myself out of the stupor.

“We’ve been trying to talk to you for over a minute already,” Tom’s worried voice crackled over the earpiece. “What’s going on?”

“Are you still trailing her?” Martin asked apprehensively.

I looked around for Mary Ann, but she must already have turned up Whitechapel High Street; I couldn’t see her anymore. I ran around the corner and trotted as quickly as I could in these damned heeled-boots up Whitechapel Street past Garden Street and St. Mary’s. Still no sign of her. I turned left in a panic up the short bit of road called Baker’s Row and then right onto Buck’s Row (as Durward was known then) and everything was still and empty.

“I see you, Jules,” came Martin’s voice in my ear, clearly relieved. “What happened?”

Out of breath and lungs stinging like fire, I just shook my head and threw my hands in the air in response, knowing Martin would be able to see everything through his goggles. I didn’t know what had happened. I hadn’t seen anything. Hadn’t heard anything. I turned in a full circle, looking everywhere. My chest and throat felt tight with fear and frustration. I just wanted to cry. Had I missed some clue as I’d dashed along Whitechapel Street? Or maybe Mary Ann had turned up Thomas or Court Street instead of Baker’s Row? Or perhaps Jack already had her before I’d gotten myself together, back when I realized about the bonnet. I didn’t know her, but she was a living, breathing person, and I no longer wanted to find her killer—I wanted her to live.

Here’s the full Table of contents

  • Habejari’s Break by Kimber Camacho
  • House Call by Brandon Nolta
  • Deja View by Tim Koch
  • Affaire de Coeur by Susanne Hülsmann
  • A Fair Trade by Johannes Svensson
  • Escape Velocity by Melissa Swanepoel
  • Fire in the Bones by Marguerite Croft
  • Lesson Learned by Jessica Augustsson
  • Glass and Mirrors by Sharon A. Brown
  • Man, and None by Brandon Nolta
  • The Grande Complication by Christopher Reynaga
  • Contraband by Susan Hülsmann
  • The Karelian Egg by Robert Young
  • The Choices that Damn Us by Delilah Night
  • The Mer-Bell by Kimber Camacho
  • A Bird in the Hand by Johannes Svensson
  • Crux of a Faded Soul by Jennifer Silverwood

Edited to Add…Buy it here

Sometimes you have to suck…

I’ve been stuck on Chapter 6 of my ghost book for over a month.  I’ve tried writing it multiple ways and no matter what, I hate it.  HATE IT.

Screen Shot 2014-09-24 at 8.44.14 pmBurn, chapter 6.  Burn.

I am giving myself permission to suck.  To write it, knowing it will be weak and will likely be cut entirely or hacked to pieces in the second draft, so I can move on with things.

I have tried to write this novel on and off for about a decade–a draft of it was written for a Halloween contest, and the characters have never left me alone.  But this is what inevitably happens to me when I’ve tried to write full length pieces–I hit a speed bump and get mired in the desire not to suck.  So the book has gone through several incarnations with characters of different names, different plot lines, and so forth.  But it always seems to hit a point where I can’t move past the momentary bad writing.  I second guess every choice I make until I have a zillion starts to the chapter, but no finish line.

So what changed?

Lynn Townsend.  I’m going to have to paraphrase because otherwise I’ll spend forever trying to track down exactly what she said to me, which was “Just write.  It’s okay that it sucks.  Just keep writing through it.”  Which is obvious.  Which is advice I’ve given.  But hearing it from a REAL AUTHOR who actually is willing to put one of my stories in her anthology (and thus thinks I don’t suck) changed something for me.

Now, you may say “but Delilah, you’re an author.”  To which I would tell you “Yeah, but I’ve never written or published a book, so I’m not a REAL AUTHOR like Lynn or Alison or Insert Name Here.”

So I’m going to suck it up, and I’m going to suck.  So I can move on.

Screen Shot 2014-09-24 at 9.04.17 pm

September 30th.  I’m stating it publicly–I will send some terrible sad chapter 6 to my editor and move on with my life by September 30th.

A peek into a WIP

I’ve mentioned on and off that I have a novel in progress.  One of the things I need to do to really progress as a writer is learn how to do this faster, but that’s not the focus of today’s post.

Today I’m going to share a peek into my Work In Progress which for blog purposes we’ll call “The Ghost Story”

I have a dual timeline going on.  In this section, we’re in the past–1834.  This timeline’s heroine, Vivienne, is at the Quadroon Ball looking for a man to make a plaçage arrangement with.  She has met Ben–a man who excited both her mind and body on the dance floor, but he’s an American and not a Creole, and is thus unacceptable.  Her mother–for it was mothers most frequently who formalized plaçage agreements–has decided to make an arrangement with one of her father’s contemporaries, Monsieur Fortage.

Screen Shot 2014-09-06 at 1.21.29 pm

Danielle’s hand squeezed Vivienne’s arm painfully. “Allons y, Vivienne! Fortage is waiting for you on the balcony. Maitenent!” Now. It was an order, and one she did not know how to avoid.

“Oui, Maman. But—just a moment. I wish to freshen myself before I go to Monsieur Fortage,” she said, ducking her head obediently.

“Don’t tarry. You secure both our futures tonight. You’ll see—the hours out of bed and our return home will make up for any—unpleasantness—you may endure in the bedroom.”

She knows. She knows how horrible it will be to have that gaping carp of a man thrashing about in my bed. Vivienne began to make her way to the ladies lounge, trying to decide if one drink would be enough liquid courage to accept his offer or if more would be needed.

Benjamin fell into step beside here. “I see you got in trouble because of me. My apologies, Vivienne.”

“No. Thank you. I’ll treasure the memory of our dances while—“ she stopped abruptly.

“While you submit to whatever man your mother orders you to?”

She nodded.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why not your choice? Why not me?”

The ache between her legs at the thought was nearly unbearable. He’d be someone she would welcome to her bed. “You’re American. I just….. It’s not…. I can’t. I want to say yes, but I–”

He took her hand and pulled her past the entrance to the ladies lounge and into the deserted hallway beyond. “Tell me what I must do to convince you.”

“It’s not me you’d need to convince. Maman would never consent. She has already found me a match, and I am to obey. The only thing that could change her mind would be—“

“-Would be?”

Her face burned. “Would be to find me in bed with a man who would swear to take me as his left hand wife. At that point it would be too late for her to negotiate a contract with Monsieur Fortage.”

His breath was ragged. “Would you take such a risk with me?”

She intended to say no. Fortage was security. She owed it to her mother to secure their future. To get their home back. She opened her mouth to tell him as much.



Not about the quadroon balls, but I can’t wait to see the movie “Belle”.  It’s similarly relevant to my interests in race and gender.