Capturing the Moment buy links

Posted on March 27, 2016 by Delilah Night

See below for the full set of buy/pre-order links for Capturing the Moment

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

Read an excerpt here

Totally Bound will publish the book for one month prior to wide release

Totally Bound exclusive publication date March 29, 2016

You can also pre-order Capturing the Moment from

Wide release publication date April 26, 2016

Capturing the Moment also has a page on Goodreads

Filed under: Published, Writing | Tagged: buy links, Capturing the Moment, delilah night | Leave a comment »

Wicked Wednesday #199–The best “bad” book I’ve ever read

Posted on March 23, 2016 by Delilah Night

I am paralyzed by the idea of sharing my favorite book, because I am incapable of picking a favorite. So instead, I’m going to plagiarize a post I wrote for my book blog about Prom Dress by Lael Littke, one of the most epically, wonderfully, equisitely bad books I have ever read.

I had a vague memory of reading this book in late elementary/early middle school and procured a second hand copy because it is sadly not on Kindle. I was an addict of the uber melodramatic scary/cursed item/ghost story that was so ubiquitous in the late 80’s/early 90’s. I even wrote part of a short story called “The Curse of the Silver Teddy Bear Necklace” in high school. I’ve devastated that my story doesn’t seem to exist anymore. (I’m holding out hope I’ll randomly stumble over it in a box of papers one day).

Prom Dress by Lael Littke

Originally Published 1989

Robin is too poor to buy a new dress for the prom. Then she finds a perfect, beautiful dress in the attic of her mysterious employer’s house. She “borrows” it to wear to the prom…and dances into her worst nightmare.

Then Felicia finds the dress. The price she pays for wearing it is more than any girl should pay…

But Nicole is too smart to be caught by the dress. Isn’t she? Poor Nicole!

And then there’s Gabrielle, Robin’s little sister. Did she find the dress? Or did the dress find Gabrielle?

Can anyone stop the fatal attraction of the…Prom Dress?

OHMIGOD you guys—could this book BE any better? Maybe, but only if it were longer. I LOVED it. So much love I can’t stop with the CAPSLOCK.!!!!111!!!!111!!!!1!!

I hope you guys were all fans of soap operas back in the day because this plot has a lot of convoluted plot points that only work if you’re willing to pretend we’re in Salem/Pine Valley/Port Charles. Strap in for caplock and run-on sentences like I’ve never capslocked or run-on before.

Robin is a new-to-town gold digging social climber dating the hottest/richest boy in school–Tyler. Tyler drives a red Trans Am, which I think is supposed to compensate for him saying things like “Between your dancing and your working, I hardly get to see you. Where do I rate on your list of priorities?”

Alas, Robin must work because Daddy’s dead and college tuition doesn’t grow on trees. Apparently, though, new houses DO grow on trees. Right around when Robin’s Dad died, her mother inherited a house from a family member who also died at the same time which is great because they couldn’t afford the mortage on the old house they’d lived in with her dad, and so they moved because this house was free and there are no inheritance or property taxes and who the hell knows—just go with it. Dad died, they moved, they’re broke–but they live in a mansion next to an even bigger mansion.

He’s talking about you, Robin

How very lucky for all of us that Tyler ‘s girlfriend needn’t slum it at McDonalds. In the mysterious mansion next door lives Miss Catherine. She’s an elderly recluse with a scarred cheek from when her twin sister Rowena threw acid on Catherine’s face because Rowena was jealous of Catherine’s hot boyfriend Michael who never looked at Rowena even though Rowena lusted after his bod. Robin is Miss Catherine’s lackey, and her job duties seem to consist of keeping Miss Catherine company and talking about how hot Miss Catherine used to be before “the accident.”

One day Miss Catherine and Robin get to talking about how Robin is going to be in some dance show doing the Charleston and there might be college scouts there to give out college scholarships. She has to find her own costume–and Miss Catherine has the perfect dress. All Robin has to do is go upstairs, find the secret closet, and take out the flapper dresses—being certain to NOT TOUCH the white prom dress that JUST HAPPENS to be the only other thing in that closet. Don’t even LOOK at it, Robin.

Duh, of course Robin looks at it, and instantly wants it. She’s going to be Tyler’s prom date and if she shows up in anything less than the perfect dress, he’ll dump her because she won’t be worthy of being seen with him or something.

The dress was made of deep scallops of creamy lace. It had long sleeves and a high lace collar. Like the flame colored dress, it had a dropped waistline, but the two dresses were worlds apart. While the red one called out blatantly for excitement and dancing the braying of horns, the lace one spoke softly of elegance and muted music and romance.

What girl wouldn’t want to sport this while dancing to Milli Vanilla and New Kids on the block

Robin asks Miss Catherine if she can borrow the Prom Dress. HELL NO, Miss Catherine says. She got the scar on her cheek while wearing that dress–it’s BAD. Robin decides that the ends will justify the means and when she borrows the flapper dress, she “borrows” the prom dress. Did she see a shadow on her cheek when she took it? Nah, it was just a trick of the light.

Apparently Robin looks smokin’ in the red flapper dress at the Charleston contest. Tyler tells her that his dad thought Robin was so hot that he’s sending them to a top shelf restaurant before prom, and is going to throw a limo their way. Robin says she could get used to this lifestyle, and I contemplate that she’s chasing the wrong man–it’s Tyler’s dad who controls the purse strings.

They go to Prom and are crowned Prom King and Queen after many more mentions of how the dress is so gorgeous that every girl there is jealous of it and that Robin is so bodacious in it. But just as Robin is about to take her throne and accept the pinnacle of high school success, the stairs crumble and she falls. The throne she was about to sit on falls too and lands on her legs and feet, crushing them.

No more dancing for Robin.

Robin is taken to a hospital, where her nurse is a woman named Felicia. Felicia is a reformed slut who is now in love with a divinity student named Mark. She wants to grow up and be Mrs. Mark, future minister’s wife. The first major hurdle in reaching her goal is impressing Dean Goudy at a special dinner he throws for his divinity students. Apparently the dean evaluates all potential spouses, and if the spouse doesn’t measure up the marriage isn’t going to happen and the student will be penalized for even thinking about dating such an unworthy candidate. No pressure.

If only Felicia had the right dress…

It was to be a dress-up affair, and the only fancy dresses she owned were bare backed or off the shoulder or spaghetti-strapped. What she needed was something sweet and demure.

Something like Robin Wilson’s dress.

Sadly, this little number will need to stay in Felicia’s closet.

Felicia asks Robin if she can borrow the dress. Robin says no. But during a drugged out dream, Robin’s eyes flicker open and she sees Felicia holding the dress up to herself.

Felicia is looking in the mirror–and thinks she sees a smudge on her cheek. Gee–is it shadowing or FOREshadowing? Felicia steals the dress.

Felicia goes to the dinner and is all demure and shit. But the dress keeps feeling tighter and tighter. So tight she can’t breathe. But when she looks in the mirror, the dress looks just like it did–it’s not too tight at all. But she can’t breathe. Finally, she excuses herself and goes upstairs to the “bathroom.” Felicia goes into the Dean’s bedroom and rips the dress off her body.

Oh noes! Now she’s in her underwear and the dress HAS to get back to Robin tonight because otherwise she’d be a bad person or something. So instead she steals some clothes from Mrs. Goudy to wear. But why stop there? She steals a bag to carry the dress back to Robin. She tries to sneak out, but Mrs. Goudy shouts that someone is fleeing the house with her BLUE BAG!

Felicia runs for the bus stop and the RIGHT bus just HAPPENS by at the RIGHT MOMENT. What luck! She hops on the bus and feels so lost and upset. Now what can she do? Telling the truth is clearly out of the questions–it is a FAR better solution to change back into the dress, sneak back into the house, and go back downstairs saying that she had glimpsed a man running off with a blue bag. NO! NO! What she should REALLY do is go to the hospital and return the dress and throw out the clothes and….I don’t know, say that God had taken her from the house to the hospital because she was more needed at the hospital?

Before she can get off the bus, Felicia needs her shoes. She reaches into the bag for her shoes…and discovers a velvet bag with pearls in it. I know I leave my expensive jewels in a random bag in my closet instead of a jewelry box or a safe. Oh NOES!!!

People get onto the bus–and it’s Mark and another guy from the party. Rather than confess and do penance or say some Hail Marys or whatever, she says

“Mark. The man with the cap…. He took it. He made me take the dress off at the house and he put it in a blue bag that he found in a closet…. He got off a few stops back. …. He made me come with him. He said he’d hurt me if I didn’t come. He threatened all sorts of awful things. I didn’t dare call out or anything. I just did what he said. I’m sorry he got away. But I was afraid. See, I’m still shaking.”

Mark is incredibly dumb and believes her. He escorts her from the bus, while she plays sad maiden.

The bag is left on the bus.

No more integrity for Felicia.

Nicole is a genius. Her high school academic decathalon team is taking the exact same city bus to a rival high school for a major competition. Her foot bumps something under the seat, and she finds THE BLUE BAG. Inside is the dress and some gorgeous pearls. It’s just what she needs for the dance that night. Maybe then her teacher will notice her and become her boy toy and they’ll live happily ever after.

I will open to page 394 any day of the week, Professor Snape….

That night she goes to the dance, and she looks totally gnarly. She thinks she sees a shadow on her cheek momentarily, and only the dullest reader can’t see what kind of karma is heading her way.

Mr. Waring asks her to dance and they flirt.

School would be out soon; that would end the student-teacher track they were stuck in right now, which of course would never allow dating. Mr. Waring’s strong code of ethics would never allow it. But, after graduation, they’d be free to date. Nicole could help him get over the terrible pain of losing his wife and child, and they could be married. She wondered if he’d mind if she went to college after their marriage. Very likely he’d insist on it. Maybe he’d go back for more graduate work. Maybe they’d both go to college.

Nicole was thinking happily of a wedding gown very much like the dress she was wearing.

Just then, Nicole sees her frenemy talking to someone and pointing at her. Proving she’s the “Girl Computer with the giant brain,” she makes the obvious intellectual leap that the cops must be here for her. They must have figured out….somehow…that the dress and jewelery weren’t hers. She runs away and bumps into a very tall pedestal. The bust of Einstein falls off and smacks her in the head.

Poor Nicole, no more brains–it’s amnesia town for you.

Luckily for Felicia, Nicole is brought to her hospital. She’s able to put the dress back into Robin’s closet. She confesses everything to Mark and surrenders the jewelry back to Mrs. Goudy. Mark dumps her lying ass.

Felicia and Robin have a heart to heart about the evil of the dress. Felicia thinks they should destroy it–her first smart choice of the book. Robin persists in being a moron and says it must go back to Miss Catherine.

Robin tells her little sister Gabrielle to take the dress back to Miss Catherine, which is clearly a great idea.

Did I mention that Gabrielle thinks that Tyler is totally choice? Gabrielle loves to play piano and Tyler sometimes accompanies her when he’s waiting around for Robin. So she jumps at the chance to get a ride home from him so she doesn’t have to take the dress on the bus, and asks him to come play piano with her. They could even do a duet FOR ROBIN when she finally comes home.

I’m just saying if you really loved me you would share him…

Robin gets out of the hospital and it’s so sweet how Gabrielle and Tyler have clearly practiced playing together over and over and over and over. In fact, they’ve gotten so used to playing together that they’re going get paid for playing together. Playing PIANO—stop with your filthy minds.

Robin takes the garment bag with the dress inside it back to Miss Catherine and confesses. Miss Catherine begins to laugh hysterically and confesses that it was her evil plan all along! BWAHAHA–she’s not even Miss Catherine….she’s ROWENA.

“I cursed every stitch of that dress. I started it for myself, you know. I thought Michael was going to ask me to the prom. But I had the birthmark, you see, and Catherine was the beauty. That was the most important thing in the world to her, just as Michael was to me. I saw them sneak around together, and when he asked her to the prom I finished up the dress for her, because I knew it was the last time she would ever be beautiful.”

Rowena jiggled up and down. “When they came home, I threw acid on her face. But not on the dress. I didn’t want to ruin the dress. She was wearing a cloak, so it didn’t get on the dress. I didn’t want to hurt the dress. I did it right there, in the foyer, on our little stage,” Rowena gave her a mirthless laugh. “And after that she was even uglier than I was.”

And just look–there goes Gabrielle to her job, with Robin’s boyfriend….WEARING THE DRESS!!! Rowena taunts Robin to just let her go, that the dress will punish her sister just as it did Rowena’s so long ago.

Robin suddenly develops a backbone and ethics and struggles to her feet, even though they’re both in casts and she’s supposed to be in a wheelchair, and even standing hurts with the fury of a thousand suns she struggles to the door, screaming even though Gabrielle and Tyler can’t hear her. As she gets to the door, throws it open, and screams her sister’s name one last time just as Gabrielle is about to get into the Trans Am, and passes out from the sheer pain of it all.

She wakes up in the hospital—her fall stopped whatever tragedy was about to befall Gabrielle.

Rowena was taken away and the full story comes out. After her stay in a mental hospital post-acid throwing, she was released into Catherine’s custody. The two women went away and were recluses. “Rowena” died in a fire, tragically. “Catherine” came back to the hometown and the old house. But “Catherine” was really “Rowena”–and the scar was from her gouging out her own birthmark so that it would scar and look like the acid burn. She was the EVIL TWIN!

EVIL TWINS….EVIL TWINS EVERYWHERE.

The book closes with an epilogue all in italics. A woman buys the dresses for her second hand store. A girl named Natalie goes shopping at said store, and sees the dress. She’s an aspiring actress and it’s perfect for the upcoming audition. But it costs too much. So she slips it into her bag and steals it.

Tomorrow she would wear the dress!

The book ends, and I stand up and applaud.

This.

Was.

AWESOME.

Click the link below to see everyone else’s Wicked Wednesday contributions. And speaking of books, Capturing the Moment is now on sale exclusively at Totally Bound for the next month, and is now available for pre-order from Google Books, Kobo, and iBooks (release date April 26). It is not yet available for pre-order on Amazon or Nook.

Filed under: book reviews, Wicked Wednesday | Tagged: delilah night, Lael Littke, Prom Dress, snarking, Wicked Wednesday | 9 Comments »

WIP–Forbidden Territory

Posted on March 21, 2016 by Delilah Night

There are few places in the world more beautiful than New Zealand. In fact, it is so heartbreakingly beautiful, you’ll pinch yourself to see if it’s real, or if you’ve just drifted off while staring at a screen saver.

For me, though, the highlight of visiting New Zealand wasn’t the scenery, although it is stunning. The best part of the trip was that I got to meet an internet friend for the first time (actually, two, but only one is relevant for this entry). After living in Singapore for three years I was ready to let loose, and “Bex” and I did so in a spectacular fashion.

Forbidden Territory, the story I’m about to share an excerpt from, is one of the least embellished stories I’ve ever written.

We passed by a shop called the Guardhouse.

“Oh, Tom’s on. I need to talk to him. Do you mind going in for a few minutes?” Bex asked, grabbing my hand to lead me inside.

As she chatted with Tom, I wandered the store, idly contemplating whether or not I needed another flogger.

Then I saw it. A thin, lucite cane covered in black rubber. The heat and humidity of equatorial Singapore had warped our rattan canes. We hadn’t replaced them, but this little baby was perfect for the tropics. I tapped it against my leg hard enough to get a frisson of pleasure and pain.

“Laur, what did you find?” Bex called to me.

I held up the cane. Her eyes glittered with delight.

As I paid, Bex mentioned “Guardhouse is the place I was telling you about with the cruise room in the back for gay men.”

“Too bad there’s no equivalent for queer women,” I commented as I signed the slip.

Tom shrugged, “It’s Wednesday. Totally dead. You’re the first people I’ve seen in hours.Take a look around if you like, but if anyone comes in, you need to leave. If you’re hooking up in there, you better be okay with stopping.”

At the words hooking up our eyes met and I felt my panties grow damp.

We spoke in unison. “Deal!”

We did take the opportunity to explore a gay cruise club on a night when it was dead. However, the sex is the fictitious element–“Bex” is a sexy, wonderful woman, but I have not had the privilege of being her lover.

In other news, Capturing the Moment is on sale tomorrow at Totally Bound, and is now available for pre-order from Google Books, Kobo, and iBooks (release date April 26). It is not yet available for pre-order on Amazon or Nook at this time. Capturing the Moment also has a page on Goodreads

Filed under: In Progress, Writing | Tagged: Auckland, Capturing hte Moment, delilah night, Forbidden Territory, New Zealand | Leave a comment »

Pre-order Capturing the Moment Now (including a sneak peek)

Posted on March 15, 2016 by Delilah Night

When I was a little girl I dreamed of being a real author like Ann M. Martin, because The Baby-Sitter’s Club was the pinnacle of literary achievement to me in fourth grade. I dreamed of seeing my name on a book one day, a dream that would persist long after I gave up on being an astronaut or a prima ballerina.

In January, 2015, I started a story that was called “Siem Reap,” because it was set in Siem Reap, Cambodia. Meg and RJ’s story wasn’t as simple as I first thought. I had envisioned them as one-time lovers, but as the story emerged, I realized that they’d once been engaged and Meg had called off their wedding. Why had she done that? Could they have a one-day fling, or get back together without dealing with all of their existing baggage? Thanks to my beta reading team of my husband, Tamsin Flowers, and Lynn Townsend (and a few irl friends) the end result was Capturing the Moment, which is now available for pre-order from Totally Bound.

I am so flooded by emotion right now seeing my book–MINE, not an anthology I’m part of--available for pre-order. My book–MINE–has a goodreads page already. It feels surreal, and thrilling, and I’m so scared I’ll wake up from this dream any moment.

There’s a short excerpt on the website, but I’m going to offer a more extended view of that scene.

Angkor Wat, silhouetted against a pre-dawn sky, was the photograph Megan had waited over a decade to take. She stood at the edge of the pond, in front of the twelfth-century Cambodian temple, making minute adjustments to her tripod. The night sky, once inky black, transformed into a riot of pink and purple. The sky and Angkor Wat were perfectly reflected in the water. The moment Meg had dreamed of had arrived. She stepped up to the tripod and looked through the viewfinder. Her finger tapped the shutter button repeatedly.

To: Meg

From: Mother

I don’t see why you insist on complicating everything. If you’d just come directly to Bali like you should have, you wouldn’t be stuck in the Beijing airport. Two canceled flights are a sign, Megan. Why are you still bothering with Cambodia? You’ll only have one day there. Between Rachel and her destination wedding, and you with your Cambodia caper, the two of you are driving me crazy!

The bright colors gave way to pale dawn light. Although the number of tourists clicking away on their iPads was still growing rapidly, Meg and her fellow early birds were ready to move on. They knew the magic hour—and the best shots—were done. Meg slipped the camera from the platform before folding up her tripod.

“Get any good shots, Meg?”

Meg spun around and nearly dropped her equipment. If life were fair, exes would become repulsive to you the moment you broke up. But no, she itched to run her hands through his black hair. She remembered licking and sucking her way across every inch of his brown skin. Her eyes flicked to his full lips and she almost whimpered as her panties grew damp at the memory of his eager tongue. Nope, life was decidedly not fair.

“Arjun? What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for a date to a wedding.” He grinned. “Want to be my plus one?”

“Bite me.” Suppressing the urge to slap him, she turned to thread her way out of the crowd as fast as she could.

Stop picturing him naked. Stop it!

A line of stalls selling goods ranging from postcards to T-shirts to food was slowly coming to life.

“Can I have a Coke, Uncle?” she asked the owner of a stall. The guidebook had told her to address everyone older than her as Auntie or Uncle. Whether due to the rapid increase in heat since the sun had crept over the horizon, or the shock of seeing RJ, she was dying of thirst.

I can’t believe he’s here. This is almost as bad as if he were at the wedding.

“Oh. My. God. Wedding.” The bottle froze halfway to her lips. “A date to a wedding.”

Maybe it’s some other college friend’s wedding that just happens to be on the other side of the planet the exact same weekend as Rachel and Paige’s, and oh my fucking God he’s going to be at their wedding. Oh God, oh God, oh God—

Wishing it was a beer, Meg took a swig of the soda.

“Want to share that?”

Meg choked on the liquid. RJ’s hand pounded rhythmically on her back.

“Stop that! I’m—” She flapped an ineffective hand at him as she fought her way through another coughing fit. “Fine!” Panting, she took a cautious sip. What was supposed to have been blissfully cool relief was now cloying sweetness.

She glared at RJ. “Why are you here? Don’t feed me any of your charming bullshit.”

“Rachel told me you’d be here.”

Traitor! Exasperated, she threw the soda into the trash and turned to face him. “If you wanted to warn me you’d be at the wedding, you could’ve used email like a normal person. Or my sister could’ve told me you would be there. What made you think crashing my dream vacation would be fun?”

“This wasn’t just your dream vacation, remember?” His tone was mild, but she caught the flash of anger in his eyes. “This was our dream vacation.”

“So you decided to invite yourself along? Clearly, your ego is as massive as ever.” Meg shook her head in disbelief. She picked up her camera bag and tripod.

He stepped in front of her. “Megan, spend the day with me.”

“Why should I?”

“If you don’t, you’ll always wonder what it would have been like. C’mon, Meg, it’ll be fun.” He offered her a winning smile.

You were trying not to think about him even before you knew he was here. Have you ever had much willpower when it came to those dimples? It’s been six years since the break-up and they’re lethal as ever.

“If I agree to hang out with you today, you’ll try to sweet talk your way into my bed. Don’t think you’re going to succeed, RJ.”

“I didn’t say anything about rolling around naked on your bed. You’re the one who brought it up.”

Capturing the Moment is now available for pre-order on Totally Bound’s website. It will be on sale March 29 on Totally Bound’s website exclusively for one month. On April 29th, it will be available on Amazon and with other retailers.

Filed under: Capturing the Moment Book Tour, Published, Writing | Tagged: Capturing the Moment, delilah night, Lynn Townsend, Tamsin Flowers, Totally Bound | 1 Comment »

Rogues is now available for pre-order

Posted on March 13, 2016 by Delilah Night

Rogues, edited by Delilah Devlin, is now available for pre-order on Amazon Kindle, and will be published on May 17, 2016.

I have to confess that my story in this anthology, Plunder, is one of my all-time favorites.

Sparks fly when the Caribbean’s most fearsome pirate falls under the spell of a sexy spitfire who’d rather send him to Davy Jones’s locker.

Here’s a snippet (which I shared in October 2014, but it’s worth sharing again)

Put it down, lad. Don’t think to try me,” he warned her.

Defiantly she stepped out of line and faced him. He raised an eyebrow when he saw she was no lad. His distraction presented the perfect opportunity; her sword sliced through the air. Bree grinned fiercely as she scored first blood, but her victory was short-lived. It was humiliating how quickly he disarmed her. She found herself face down on the deck with the pirate captain’s boot planted firmly on her back.

This would never have happened if Papa hadn’t sent me away. Fighting had been yet another useful skill she’d had to abandon in favor of nonsense like bossing around servants. Maids were bigger crybabies than seasick boys on their first sail.

“This girl has more courage than the rest of you scum put together. At least she tried to kill me,” he said derisively.

The boot was removed and he hauled her to her feet. She immediately cocked a fist. “Quite the spitfire, aren’t you?” He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

Her blood boiled. “Go to hell!” She beat at his back ineffectively as he carried her to the quarterdeck. She was put down with her back to the railing.

The pirate imprisoned her hands in one of his own. “I have a proposition for you, minx. You’ve given me more amusement in the past five minutes than I’ve had in a long time. Amuse me tonight and I don’t kill your crewmates. Maybe you’ll even please me so well that I’ll let you keep your ship.”

The roar in her ears wasn’t the ocean. “What?”

“Don’t disappoint me now. Is the idea of my bed so repulsive that you’d rather lose your ship?”

Brianna swallowed. “How do I know you’ll honor the bargain?” My body is to be a bargaining chip no matter what.Better to use it for the Maya than submit to whomever Papa chose.

He gave her a feral smile. “You don’t.”

Filed under: novel, Published, Writing | Tagged: Delilah Devlin, delilah night, Plunder, Rogues | Leave a comment »

Guest Post: Lisabet Sarai–author of The Gazillionaire and the Virgin

Posted on March 7, 2016 by Delilah Night

Today’s guest post is by the lovely Lisabet Sarai, with whom I’ve shared pages in three Coming Together anthologies–For the Holidays, Keeping Warm, and Strange Shifters. She is a delightfully inventive reader (her six foot penguin in Strange Shifters is my favorite of the characters I’ve met in the Coming Together anthologies), who is here to talk about (and run a contest for) her new release: The Gazillionaire and the Virgin.

***

An Interview with Rachel Zelinsky

by Lisabet Sarai

I want to thank Delilah for hosting me today and giving me a chance to talk about my recently released BDSM erotic romance The Gazillionaire and the Virgin. In thinking about my post, I realized it’s pretty boring for an author to go on and on about how great her book is (even if that’s true ;^) ). So as an alternative, I decided to interview my heroine, Rachel Zelinsky. (I interviewed my hero, Theo Moore, over at Desiree Holt’s blog last Wednesday.)

After the interview, I have included the blurb and an exclusive, super-sexy excerpt. Because I do think it’s an amazing romance… and so far reviewers agree!

Lisabet Sarai: Books on the craft of writing emphasize that every character should have a “defining characteristic”—some personality trait or tendency that governs the character’s behavior and choices. So what’s yours?

Rachel Zelinsky: That’s easy. Perseverance. When I set myself a goal, I don’t give up until I’ve achieved it. If I meet obstacles when pursuing one plan, I’ll try a different strategy. But to some extent, I simply won’t accept failure.

LS: Do you think this trait is responsible for your phenomenal success?

RZ: Partly. I would never have made it through MIT without being persistent, even stubborn. And Silicon Valley isn’t an easy environment for a woman, either. However, basic intelligence and a willingness to work hard are important too. Theo doesn’t have much respect for my wealth, but I can tell you, I earned my billions. I’ve paid my dues, and I think I have the right to enjoy the fruits of my labors.

LS: Speaking of Theo—it seems like you made an exception in his case. When you sought him out, it was for business reasons, but later, you gave up on your plans to use his AI technology in your online environment.

RZ: I didn’t “give up”. I changed my mind. I realized that Theo’s happiness and comfort were more important to me than my business goals.

LS: Also, it seems that you got a bit—um—distracted by your relationship with him.

RZ: Well—okay, I admit Theo’s dominance overwhelmed me. It was so unexpected. And yes, it can be hard to think rationally when Theo Moore is making love to you!

LS: Still, it seems the connection between you is more than just sex.

RZ: Much more! Honestly, I didn’t see how empty my life was, emotionally, until I met Theo. I’ve been so busy working toward external success, I’ve really neglected my heart. I love him so much it’s almost embarrassing.

LS: No reason to be embarrassed. You’re a romance heroine, after all.

RZ: But also the CEO of a multi-billion dollar technology company. We’re not allowed to have feelings. The business is supposed to come first. But now—well, Theo comes first. He’s my lover and my Master.

LS: That sounds like quite a conflict. How are you going to resolve these two opposing forces?

RZ: Don’t your craft treatises tell you that a novel needs conflict? Anyway, if readers want to discover how I handle this, they need to buy the book!

The Gazillionaire and the Virgin Genre-busting BDSM Erotic Romance 240 pages, five flames

Trust can’t be bought—it has to be earned.

When Silicon Valley entrepreneur Rachel Zelinsky meets reclusive genius Theo Moore, she finds him strangely compelling. Theo is both arrogant and socially awkward, but he has an aura of power that speaks to Rachel’s carefully-hidden submissive side. Disturbed and aroused, she tries to focus on her original objective—a deal to incorporate his Artificial Intelligence software into her company’s popular virtual world. Rachel’s not a woman who lets pleasure interfere with business, but for some reason, she can’t resist Theo’s geeky appeal.

Theo Moore can’t be bought. His past battles with poverty make him deeply suspicious of the billionaire CEO. Still, with her voluptuous curves and brilliant mind, Rachel embodies his ultimate sexual fantasy. Too bad his knowledge about sex derives from extensive research and a stash of kinky porn rather than real-world experience.

That doesn’t bother Rachel, however. In his bed—in his arms—in his bonds—she discovers the bliss of total surrender. Rachel may be Theo’s first lover, but Theo is Rachel’s first true Master—and the first man to truly touch her heart. It seems that love may harmonize their differing goals and values, until Rachel’s unwitting violation of Theo’s trust threatens to tear them apart forever.

Exclusive X-Rated Excerpt

“Oh, God—oh—Rachel…That’s….oh!”

Still sucking, I nibble on his frenulum. His hands are fists on either side of his thighs.

“Stop, stop—I can’t hold on.”

I let his cock slide out of my mouth, trailing my tongue along the shaft as it leaves. “You want me to stop sucking you?”

“No—ah, yes—I mean, I think I’m going to come again…”

Swinging my leg over his hips, I let my pubic curls brush his cockhead.

“And that’s bad?”

“Oh…no…” His face looks panicked now, the pleasure smothered by some sort of fear. “But you—you’re supposed to go first.”

I spread my thighs and drop until I paint the tip of his cock with my juices, then snatch my pelvis away as he tries to push inside. I can’t help chuckling at his enthusiasm. I want him more than ever.

“Don’t worry about me, Theo. I fully intend to come. More than once, most likely.” I scan the neat bedroom. “Where do you keep your condoms? In the bedside table drawer?”

“Ah – what? Um—I—I don’t have any condoms.”

“Huh? Don’t you believe in safe sex?”

“I – uh – well…” His face turns scarlet with embarrassment.

“Good thing I’m always prepared.” With a huff of mock exasperation, I roll off the bed and pad into the living room to find my purse. I’m too turned on to really be angry. Besides, I’m already becoming accustomed to Theo’s strangeness. “Meanwhile,” I call over my shoulder, “you get out of that tux. No point in doing any more damage.”

Under the influence of my recent fantasies, I’d slipped a three-pack of Durex extra large into my bag before leaving to pick Theo up for the fund raiser. Not that I’d expected anything to happen between us, of course, but one never knows. Now, given his apparent virility, I wonder whether I’ll run out.

I extract the condoms from my clutch, then take advantage of the break to make a quick trip to the toilet. When I return to the bedroom, I find Theo naked on the bed, his rampant cock aimed at the ceiling. One hand grips that fat rod of flesh, sliding up and down with practiced precision. He has flung the other arm across his face, as if he can’t bear to watch.

My fantasies didn’t do him justice. He has one of those massive, powerful bodies that make you want to fall to your knees in worship. He doesn’t have the bulging biceps or rippling six-pack of an exercise nut, but his big hands, broad shoulders and lean thighs broadcast strength. As he jerks at his cock, I watch the tightening in his abdomen, the shifting of muscle under the pale skin of his arm. Aside from the black fuzz surrounding his cock, he’s mostly hairless.

Saliva pools in my mouth. I want to swallow that lovely cock once again, to torment him until he can’t help but spill his seed into my mouth. Later. Right now the hungry ache between my thighs takes precedence.

“Starting without me?”

He snatches his hand away from his penis with the startled, guilty look of a kid caught in the act. “Um – no – just thinking.”

I straddle him again, leaning forward to trail my rigid nipples across his smooth chest. On my hands and knees, I smile down on him. His bobbing cock streaks my belly with pre-cum and baby oil. “About me?”

His eyes meet mine, suddenly bold. “You know I am, Rachel. Don’t tease. I can’t stand much more.”

Buy Links (Ebook and Print)

Special! For the next week (7-13 March), The Gazillionaire and the Virgin (ebook) is only 99 cents at most vendors! Don’t miss your chance to snag a copy at an 80% discount!

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About Lisabet

LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website, along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance , she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

Contest!

Leave me a comment with a question you’d like to ask Rachel. Please include your email address. I’ll have Rachel come by to answer—and I’ll also randomly choose one commenter to receive a free BDSM romance from my backlist, your choice of The Understudy or Challenge to Him.

Filed under: Guest Post | Tagged: BDSM, contest, delilah night, Erotic Romance, Guest Post, Lisabet Sarai, The Gazillionaire and the Virgin | 9 Comments »

Wicked Wednesday–Things Get Better With Age

Posted on March 2, 2016 by Delilah Night

I am thirty-seven years old, and will turn thirty-eight this fall. Despite the fact that my breasts are no longer perky, nor am I up for having sex twelve times in a weekend, I would argue that my sex life has improved dramatically with age.

I had sex for the first time at eighteen. My motivations were a mixture of fear of being left behind (I’m the last virgin in the world), being newly single, general horniness, and no small amount of let’s get this over with. My partner was someone I’d only gone out with once or twice, and when he invited me back to his parents’ house to “watch anime,” I was still naive enough to think he actually meant we would watch anime. When we started making out, it was fine. Then he wanted more, and I decided fuck it, why not. He got angry because I’d gotten blood on his sheets and his mom would be suspicious. He was in his twenties.

Thanks for ruining anime for me, bro

I spent eighteen to twenty-five having a lot of sex with a lot of people. While not every choice was a smart one, nor was every experience a safe one, I ultimately have no regrets. Lots of indiscriminate sex allowed me to explore my sexuality. I came to terms with my bisexuality, although it wasn’t as simple as that statement might imply. Through AOL chat rooms (a/s/l?) I played around with identities and talked to people of all ages and kinks, which allowed me to explore things I never could have before the internet.

Although not universally true, the biggest theme of my first decade of sexual experience, though, was validation. I had experienced a lot of rejection growing up, and the appeal of acceptance–particularly from men, was a way to see myself as worthy. This was especially true after I graduated from college, and after my first attempt at grad school blew up in my face. I was no longer receiving grades for my academic scholarship, so I needed a new way to rate my own worthiness.

Sort of, but not as sad as Jeb!

Around the age of twenty-six, though, I hit a breaking point. I had spent so much time trying to mold myself into the person my boy/girlfriend of the moment wanted me to be that I was losing myself. Why did I pretend to like sports/cars/nature? Why did I hide my geeky side with some partners, and my girly side with others? Did I want to keep fucking partners indiscriminately (which is a totally a valid choice) or did I want something more long term and monogamous-y? I stayed single for about a year, which at that point felt like forever. In that time I began to come to terms with who I was and what I wanted out life.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that after that year(ish) I met Mr. Night. He was the first partner with whom I was truly myself, and with whom I didn’t play mind games. I said this is who I am and what I want, take it or leave it. To his credit, he was approaching our relationship the same way, which cut through all of the typical early relationship bullshit.

In short, we both came to our relationship with the same mindset.

You tell ’em, Detective Murtaugh

This is not to say that our relationship has been all rainbows and unicorn stickers. Marriage is hard, and adding kids to the mix is like inviting a nuclear explosion into your life. There have been times when we have more frequent sex, and we have also had droughts, sometimes long ones.

So what makes sex better at thirty-seven than eighteen? Not because my husband has the biggest penis or the tightest body of all the men I’ve been with, nor is he better at oral than most of the women I’ve been with. No, sex is better today because of confidence and self-knowledge.

I know what I like, what I want, and I’m direct in asking for it. I’m not going to expect my partner to be a mind reader, nor does he expect me to be one. I don’t play I don’t fake orgasms.relationship games.

This isn’t just true inside the bedroom. I think I’m a happier person overall at thirty-seven because I’m just not interested in pretending to be something I’m not.

La Cage Aux Folles said it best

I’m looking forward to growing older. While I’m not excited about the hormonal insanity of menopause, I do look forward to the spike in sex drive and the loss of my fertility and period.

I’m looking forward to my daughters growing up and moving out.

I’m looking forward to retiring with my husband.

I’m looking forward to continuing to grow as a sexual person until the day I die. Preferably of a massive orgasm.

Filed under: Body Image, Life Lessons, Wicked Wednesday | Tagged: delilah night, Wicked Wednesday | 8 Comments »

Writing Schedules, Pantsing vs Plotting, and a Sneak Peek

Posted on March 1, 2016 by Delilah Night

I recently spent a week fully immersed in what I hope will be my first full length-novel, Plunder (based on the short story soon to appear in Rogues). I had an absurdly productive week unlike any other writing experience, except the one I had when I wrote the first draft of the Plunder short story, am now roughly halfway done with the first draft.

However, I am a pantser, not a plotter. So what I have is an incredibly rough half of a book that will require extensive editing.

Does this mean I don’t know what’s going to happen next? For me, it means I have the complete arc of the story in my head, and am filling in all the empty spaces.

It’s easy to say that I’ll refine the first half and then write the second half, but if I learned anything from the ghost novel, which holds the record for most starts and zero finishes of any story I’ve ever written, ever, it’s that you suck it up and keep going. My goal is to write the entire first draft and then fix it.

It’s only apt that I pepper this post with pirate memes not only because Plunder is a pirate story, but because even when I have plotted a story, my characters have committed mutiny and gone off to do whatever they want despite my outline. I have learned that I write more effectively by pantsing than plotting.

When will the first draft be done? Damned if I know. People talk about daily word counts and schedules, but as Jade A Waters said in her post called “The Process,” I kept fooling myself into believing I have a systemized process, and it’s become abundantly clear I’m full of shit. I laughed with delight when I read that line, because I find it to be so true for myself as well.

I’ll write in the mornings, when the kids are at school–Oh crap, I have to grocery shop. I don’t want to grocery shop with my four and seven year old, do I?

I’ll write in the afternoons, while the kids are absorbed in tv–Assuming I can block out Sofia the First or whatever other inane tv show is on/am not on Ms 7’s case about homework.

I’ll write in the evenings, after the kids are in bed–Well, sure, once I’ve done the other at home things, and if I’m still conscious enough to not fall asleep at the laptop/have enough energy to do anything other than watch tv listlessly. Or if I don’t have a freelance article due.

I’ll write on the weekends, when Mr. Night is around to run interference with the kids–Sometimes. Sometimes we actually want to do stuff as a family.

I don’t have a hard and fast policy because my life isn’t regimented enough to have one at this point (and probably never will be as I’m just not that organized). I have hopes that I’ll finish it before Capturing the Moment comes out on March 29 (pre-order will start March 14), but have accepted that it may not be.

I think that Plunder came along as well as it did during my intensive writing week was due to the fact that I love this story. This is a story I am happy to give up my free time to, and characters I absolutely adore. William is an alphahole (a term I only just learned thanks to Ilona Andrews post on that trope–btw, I loved her book, Clean Sweep). Brianna is an equally alpha heroine who has no desire to bow to the whim of any man. All she wants is to be a sailor, and eventually the captain of her father’s ship, the Maya. Both William and Bree are strong personalities with lots of opinions about everything, and throwing them together is often delightful.

If anything, I think the reason that things have slowed down is that they are currently apart because William was, well, an alphahole. Entirely his fault. I’m finding it hard to keep the story moving until they meet up again. Which is not to say that the middle bit is bad (although it’s a draft so it probably does suck–all first drafts suck), but rather than I have more fun and thus write faster when they’re butting heads.

Speaking of William and Bree, here’s another glimpse into their story

“What are you doing?”

“Darling, clearly it’s your nature to argue over everything, but it’s a blanket. It’s warm. You sleep under it.”

“I didn’t say I was ready to sleep.” Bree plucked the blanket from his hand and tossed it back to the floor. “I’ve yet to fully explore your territory with my tongue.”

“If you must. I suppose I can close my eyes and think of my duty to cartography.”

Bree’s hand had been trailing through his chest hair. At his comment she grabbed a fistful and yanked.

“Vicious little vixen.”

“Damned pirate. Turn over.”

“Aye aye, wench.”

All mine.

Her hands roamed his body. Freckles were scattered over his back, and Bree pressed a kiss to each. She had never considered a pirate would have such a banal thing as a freckle.

“Where did you get this?” An odd scar marred the perfection of his buttocks.

“Slight disagreement with a shark.”

She dug her nails into the cheek.

William sighed deeply. “Slight disagreement with a fishing hook. Rum was involved.”

Bree laughed with delight. “Turn over, and let me see what other wounds have been inflicted upon you. I wish to catalog them all.”

He turned onto his back. “What of the wound you gave me, minx?”

“A memory I shall always cherish.” Her tone was tart, but her eyes were soft as they made a study of his form

Filed under: In Progress, novel, process, Writing | Tagged: Clean Sweep, delilah night, Ilona Andrews, Jade A Andrews, pirates, Plunder, Rogues, writing process | Leave a comment »

Wicked Wednesday–Keep the Shoes On

Posted on February 17, 2016 by Delilah Night

After a long day of teaching, all I want to do is collapse on our bed and take a nap. Yawning, I unlock the door to the house. I’m too tired to put anything where it belongs–my keys, purse, shoes, and bag full of the night’s grading land in a drunken pile at the bottom of the stairs.

I stumble up to the bedroom and stop short.

Laid out in a silent order are a black lacy bra and panties, a white men’s dress shirt, and a pair of black stilettos I’d never seen before. On my bedside table is a tube of a lipstick far redder than anything I’d ever consider buying, and a note.

Put it on and send me pictures.

I contemplate taking a nap before following your command. I can always obey in an hour or two. I often stay late at the high school to grade, so it’s not like you’d know I’d been a bad girl. Your side of the bed is uncluttered. I shed my work clothes and stretch out on top of the white and green duvet.

I can’t fall asleep.

The gnawing guilt over ignoring an order from you is not unlike the sound of the Tell-Tale Heart from the Edgar Allen Poe story I dissected with my sixth period class a few hours before. I look at them and wonder if it’s possible for inanimate objects to glare back. My nap is never going to happen if I don’t put the damn things on and do what I’ve been told.

Grumpily, I dress, leaving the shoes for last. I’d worn flats all day, and my feet are already sore. Stilettos are a one-way-ticket to limping for the rest of the night. But I know better than to think they’re optional.

“Let’s get this the fuck over with,” I mutter and put on the clothes, leaving off the shoes for now.

I carry the instruments of torture, the lipstick, and my cellphone into our bathroom. I paint my lips, and am surprised by how much I like the color. I hold up my cell and snap a photo and immediately delete it–you won’t accept the sullen look on my face, that the shirt is hiding the bra and panties, or the lack of shoes. I undo all the buttons of the shirt, and admit that my reflection looks sexier. I take down my hair, and shake it out–better.

Time to step into the shoes. Despite all my whining, I have to admit that they change the entire look. The stilettos take me from girl next door cute to sultry siren. I lift my phone, and my expression is one of deep satisfaction. I send it to you and walk back to the bed. No, I don’t walk–I strut.

My phone beep with an incoming text.

You can do better than a bathroom selfie, Sarah.

You’re right, I can.

I’m not tired anymore. When I lay down on the bed, I have no thoughts of sleep. I sprawl on the bed and try to take a selfie, but I can only get sections of my body. I lay on my stomach and hold the phone over my back, hoping to get the black lace of the panties peeking out from the bottom of the shirt, and my crossed legs. It’s not a success, either.

I decide to channel my inner forties pin-up girl. I lay on my back and scoot toward the head of the bed until my butt is almost against our headboard and my feet are up in the air, resting against the wall. I arrange my shirt artfully, and set up the photo. I’m confident you’ll like this one.

Despite my original intentions, all I want to do on this bed now is you. You have a case in the city today, so I’ll have to wait hours for your touch. Looking up at the fuck-me heels, I decide to pass the time in the most pleasurable way possible, and reach into my panties.

“That’s my girl.”

Startled, I turn my head. You were in the house the entire time.

You’re wearing a black mesh gown that leaves nothing to the imagination, and a pair of stilettos identical to mine, except in silver. My mouth waters in anticipation.

“I knew you’d be too tired to fuck me when you got home. But I also knew that once you put on those heels, it would be all you’d want to do,” you smirk.

“Come here,” I say, before adding “and keep the shoes on.”

Filed under: Wicked Wednesday, Writing | Tagged: delilah night, Keep the Shoes On, Shoes, Wicked Wednesday | 16 Comments »

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