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This is Amber's first visit to Romance with SASS. We both write for Sizzler Editions and I hope you'll give her a warm welcome.

Who is Amber Rose Thompson?

By day I am a librarian, by night an erotic writer with romantic overtones to my work. I wish there was a purple cape to wear while I write. It feels like I’m a covert librarian writing the very material my library would never carry. I have been married for fifteen years to the person of my dreams which is probably why I write erotica. I want to get her turned on. The odd thing about our marriage is that we both are transgendered. When we got married we were in different bodies with different genders. Talk about your odd marriage, but that changes we went through and the experiences garnered infiltrate and affect my writing, giving me an intriguing view on what women and men experience at the height of erotic tension and passion.

And now for the scary interview questions!

 Pooches or Kitties?

Before I upset anyone, I want to make it very, very clear I love animals. It isn’t for lack of trying that we don’t share our one bedroom apartment with an otter and a penguin. My wife keeps saying no. I need to find a better way of black mailing her I think, but she always uses logic like flowing water and ice. Anyway, cats and dogs rock….but must side with the kitties. And yes, I have smelled kitty breath but I still love them, even when my girl kitty wakes me up in the middle of the night with a swat to my face. She doesn’t get consensual versus non-consensual at all or good touch/bad touch.

You’re in the Miss World Pageant. They ask the big question, “If I become Miss World, I want to…”

Sweaty palms are in check since I don’t want to stain my red satin and sequin dress. The dress, by the way, is so skin tight that any water from my palms might shrink it more, necessitating scissors to remove it. So I force my hands to my side, walk up to the mike with an elongated neck and say, “I want to become a man.” By that point, the people on stage with me have gone paralytic and the news crews have me on every ten seconds. I might not become Miss World, but the world will know about me.

The things that make me want to go postal.


I’ve had this one since I was a teenager. You’ll probably laugh at me when you find out and think me weird, but I hate, hate, hate being told to smile. There you have it, the one thing that is most likely to make me go postal inside the confines of my head. The glare that it ensues probably clues people into a small taste of what I am thinking, and it is best they don’t have telepathy or I’d be told to get a thesaurus to add variety to my swear words. The thing is the first time someone said this to me, I was really happy and giddy in my internal dialogue. Stupid me to realize you must wear a sign in neon so other people know you are happy. Sigh, and I still get people telling me this all the time.

Do you use your personal sex life for fodder for your books?

Sure. I can’t write about something I don’t have some experience with. Before I write a scene, I must first smell it, taste it, hear it, and see it- the characters are talking, the streets or bedroom have their noises, bodies are radiating heat and pheromones. Any time I write without first experiencing the scene in my mind, I end up deleting what I’ve written. And the best way to experience my scenes is to draw from personal experience at least in some form. It might be a look, a sigh, a rustle of the sheets, but there is a part of me in everything I write.

(*Note to self - buy Amber's book today* bwahahahah!)

Tell us something unexpected about yourself.

I spent a month at a Zen Monastery. In fact I try to still meditate every day but my full time job, commuting, and writing make it hard to fit it in as much as I would like. I do think meditation and orgasms have a lot in common. At the climax of both, the mind is shed of external thought and there is a moment blissful silence, then the moans return.

Do you have to get in the mood to write a love scene?

For me it isn’t so much a mood as a context. Because I can use my laptop while on lunch, break, or during commuting times, I can write outside my house. When I can tune out the sounds around me and feel unexposed, then I can write love scenes. Since this is harder to do outside my house, I tend to write my hottest scenes at home. There have been times I have written really hot stuff when in public, but I feel like everyone knows and I am exhibiting. Don’t mind this so much on the subway or ferry, but at work I get a creepy feeling about doing it.

Favorite time of day to write.

Really late at night into the early A.M. I lie propped up in bed with my laptop on my knees and type by the light of my backlit screen. The room has a blue haze to it from my computer lights. My wife is sleeping next to me, the cats are at the foot of the bed, and the world outside my window is quiet with only an occasional car going by. There is a peace at night when most of the world is asleep around you. I find my thoughts flow right onto the page with gleeful abandon.

Do your characters speak to you?

Yes, which is both good and bad. They sometimes speak to me at very inopportune times. The characters don’t care if I’m helping an elderly woman learn how to open an email account, their saucy and vindictive words start coming to me and I can’t even defend myself by attacking them on the page. Just kidding. I would never attack my characters. I do have to sleep sometime and would never want them ganging up on me in my sleep. I wouldn’t put it past some of them. On the good side, they do help with the dialog, but then again they also take the dialog away from me and say the oddest things at times.

What do friends and family think of your books?

Well most of my friends seem to rate my books by the number of orgasms they get from reading my novellas or how long it takes them to get through a scene because they have to stop and care for their own needs. I’d say that is very positive. Some even ask for particular scenes in the future. I find that charming. It means I’m getting to see the fantasy world of people I care about who trust me with their own fantasies.
 
(*Note to self- Buy Amber's book this minute)

The thing that creeps me out the most.

Is why we still have starvation and unemployment in a country with billionaires and so many resources.

Thanks for coming to Romance With SASS today, Amber!  I wish you the best of luck with your newest book, Scheherazade's Gift!

Keep up with Amber and buy her book here:

Erotic Romance- http://amberrosethompson.wordpress.com/

Facebook- Amber Rose Thompson Erotic, BDSM Romance Writer (Page) and Amber Rose Thompson Erotic Romance Novels (Group)
Twitter- BDSMErotica

Purchase at Sizzler Editions http://shop.renebooks.com/ and Amazon.

It's with great pleasure that I welcome my friend, E. Jamie, to Romance with SASS. We met while writing fan fiction on Forbidden Love, and I'm thrilled to see her first Noble Romance title be released next week.

Firstly I want to thank Margie for letting me play in her sandbox today! I'm so honored to be here with such a great lady and fantastic author. I've been writing romance for longer than I should have been but published since 2008 with my steamy first short story To Love A Knight! I live in Toronto, Canada where we're bracing ourselves for yet another god awful Canadian winter. Good thing I have some steamy love stories coming up to keep me and hopefully my readers warm, like We'll Meet Again which is coming out on the 21^st from Noble Romance!

And now for those interview questions you've been putting off!

1.      Biggest joy as a writer?

There's the wonderful acknowledgement from fans and fellow authors who take the time after the book is out to let you know how much they enjoy your work, but during the actual writing process, there's that sort of surreal moment where you're so caught up in the story and characters that your "real world" fades away and you look up a whole hour has gone by and you hadn't even noticed! Love that feeling.

 2.      Biggest challenge as a writer?

Probably keeping your butt in the chair when the words just won't come. That and making time for promotion!

 3.      Plotter or a pantser and why?

I'm definitely a plotter. I can't just sit and not know where I'm going because then I'll have pages of rambling and characters just moving about with no direction waiting for something interesting to happen. I'm too much of a control freak to allow that!

 4.      Do you have to get in the mood to write a love scene?

Not necessarily in a romantic mood but I do have to want them to get busy! I find I can get in the 'mood' pretty easily once I start writing the scene because love scenes are a real strength of mine, I'm told. If the characters are ready and are strong enough and compelling enough, I'll really look forward to that time that they finally come together. Pun intended. (winks)

 5.      Describe your writing year so far and what's on the horizon.

I'm so thrilled about the coming year because I have the first book in a trilogy that is another WW2 themed romance called Resistance coming out. The first book is called The Arrangement and will be out in February. Readers also really love my cowboy Ben in my novella Redemption so I'm at work on a new cowboy romance called Wanted that is set at the end of the civil war. Looking forward to getting that one done and out to readers too!

 I thought I'd share an excerpt from my angsty passion filled WW2 romance We'll Meet Again with you all and give away a free copy to one lucky commenter. Hope you enjoy!

Here's the blurb first: It's 1943; Cassie Atherton's fiancé Phillip Davis is fighting in the war, and she is doing her part as an American nurse in England. When nursing a seriously injured English captain named Edward James Harrison, Cassie suddenly finds herself truly in love for the very first time. Instantly drawn to each other, Cassie tries to resist James's shameless flirting but the two of them grow close during his convalescence. They know their futures lie elsewhere but neither expect their parting to come when the unexpected death of her father calls Cassie back home. Once he’s fully recovered, James returns to active duty and ends up on a mission with Phillip in Japan where both men are captured. Their joint suffering in the POW camp under Lieutenant Dai bonds them as the best of friends.

They manage to escape and Phillip brings James with him when he returns back home to Boston to meet Cassie, not being aware that the two already know each other. Torn between friendship and love, honor and passion, set against a backdrop of violence and historical upheaval, Cassie and James try to fight a love that refuses to be denied.

And a hot excerpt!

 She pressed her head against his. "You are everything to me. Everything, James, and you were from the moment I met you. You endured terrible horrors, like the other men in your company. They will carry that with them, and I know you will as well, but understand please that I want to help you carry that burden. I want to help us to move forward to the happy future we deserve after all the hardship of the past. The war is over, my love."

"I feel it will never be over for me," he admitted softly.

"It is over and you did your duty. Now let me remind you what you fought for." She kissed him gently. "Our future . . . our happiness."

He cupped her face with one hand, and brushed his lips across hers. "Dear God you are the most wonderful thing, the most beautiful, wonderful thing in existence. I want to just bury myself in you and feel the peace you so freely offer me and never leave. I don’t deserve it." He turned and pulled her against him, bringing her over his thighs so that she now faced him. "I’m a murderer."

"A soldier," she corrected, dotting his face with kisses as she positioned herself over his now erect shaft.

"A monster," he countered, nuzzling her neck.

"A hero," Cassie insisted, and gasped as she moved down and felt him fill her.

He groaned, and his eyes fluttered closed. "But I need you. My God, I need you so much, Cassandra."

"I’m here," she assured him, squeezing her muscles around his length. "Do you feel me, sweetheart?" She took his hand and placed it over her heart. "Do you feel my heart racing? Only you do that to me." Cassie said rocking her hips slowly, bursts of sensation going off through her blood. "Only you."

"Let’s go to bed," James groaned, pressing his teeth against the wet flesh of her shoulder before forcing her off of him. 

He carried her to the bed and they were both still dripping as he pushed into her again in one smooth hard thrust.

"Ohh," Cassie sighed, arching on the mattress and pulling him closer until he covered her with his body.

"My sweet wife, my heart." He rocked slowly, meeting her gaze with heated desire in his own.

She felt relieved, seeing the man she knew and loved back in those eyes, looking back at her with the same love she herself needed to survive.

"More," she urged, kissing his neck, his jaw, holding his hips in her hands as he acquiesced and quickened the pace.

He cupped her face and kissed her as he moved, sending her senses spinning. Cassie wrapped her legs around him, wanting to keep him there, keep him safe. She wanted to love him, take care of him, and grow old with him. If this whole trauma left anything to be grateful for, it was this: she now knew what it truly meant to be a wife.

Cassie held him close to her and smiled softly as she traced the contours of his face, now tightening in pleasure rather than sorrow. Being a wife was more than just a pretty dress and a party on one day. It was a lifetime of sharing joy and sorrow, of being strong because your husband needed you and letting him share your burdens as well. She knew she’d be strong enough to face anything with James now.

She took his hand and kissed his palm, his wrist.

"I love you," he sighed, kissing her forehead. "I love you. I love you."

She shivered beneath him, feeling his love wash over her, feeling as if it were renewing them both.

Cassie ran her fingers through his hair and moved with him, feeling him swell within her. Their breaths came together as the haze of passion blurred everything around her but James’s face.

"I love you," she murmured, feeling the tightening in her belly at the impending orgasm.

He kissed her, his tongue meeting hers. She took in his groan of pleasure  and recognized that he was nearing his release. He opened his eyes and looked down at her in question when he prepared to pull out of her, but she locked her legs around him and nodded instead.

What better time for a new beginning, a new baby? She didn’t know if it was too soon after Phillip, but she wouldn’t mind if they had a second child conceived now, when they were renewing their promise to each other to live for the future, when they had defeated the past.

He nodded as well and she felt James lose control above her. She buried her face in his neck, feeling the rapid beat of his pulse as she followed him over the edge.

He collapsed on top of her and apologized.

Cassie laughed. "No need. I love the feel of your body against mine, husband."

He turned and pulled her onto him, pushing a lock of her damp hair behind her ear. "The feeling is mutual, my wife." He ran his fingers down her bare back. "Do you think . . . ?"

"I don’t know, but we could always try again," Cassie said, kissing his chest.

"Won’t that be fun?" James sighed, kissing her. "Thank you," he said seriously.

"There’s no need for that either," she promised him. "I would never let you face your demons alone. I love you too much."

 

Thanks again Margie for having me! Remember one lucky commenter will win a copy of my new book, We'll Meet Again!

I love hearing from readers at my website www.ejamie.net

Here's where else you can find me:

Blog: www.ejamiesmuse.blogspot.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/nancy777ca

Twitter: www.twitter.com/nancy777ca

 

Hello.

I'm KevaD, a sheltered, shy, but polite writer and author.

I tend to lean toward violets, sweet clover, and flop-eared bunny rabbits. I once wrote a story in which a man kissed a woman on the cheek, and then they sat in the park watching ducks swim on the pond. It was very titillating.

Was that okay, Margie? Can I have that picture of me popping out of the Shriners' cake back now?

Craziest plot you never wrote.

I started a very odd tale of a serial killer with a hairy armpit obsession who becomes stranded without a passport in Odessa, Ukraine. The U.S. Embassy refuses to help him because he's the chief suspect in the killings, and the U.S. sure doesn’t want him back. He soon discovers his only chance of survival is to agree to what seems to be some random killings. When he discovers a common thread to his victims, he begins to contemplate his role in the universe, and why armpits grow hair in the first place.

Do your characters speak to you?

Oh my yes. Usually in the grocery store. By the dairy products. Chocolate flavored whipped cream is their favorite.

What inspires your stories most often?

Anchovy pizza after midnight works wonders for the horror genre. A beautiful sunrise inspires romance. My wife insisting I stop what I'm doing and send supplies for her Facebook Adventure Game has created a number of murder scenes.

Do you have to get in the mood to write a love scene?

Yes, but there aren't many strippers out here in the country. Unless you count me naked by the mail box whenever I hear sirens approaching.

You're holding a cocktail party. Five guests are on the invitation list – living or dead. Who are they and why?

Love this question.

Thomas Jefferson. I'd really like to know how badly he thinks we screwed it all up.

Jacqueline Kennedy-Onassis. Who wouldn't want to spend even an hour just talking with her?

Xaviera Hollander. She made the commercialization of sex acceptable to suburbia. I'd enjoy learning how her mind works.

John "Liver-Eating" Johnson. What was real, what was legend? Any way you look at it, the man was beyond ordinary and survived a one-man twelve-year war with the Crow.

George Armstrong Custer. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

You're in the Miss World pageant. They ask the big question, "If I become Miss World, I want to  . . . ."

…find out if Ryan Seacrest is gay or not.

 

Thanks for putting up with me. I always enjoy it when Margie asks me to come out and play.

By the way, I have a couple of books that were released last month.

Satan wants the warrior Taka to bow before him. But Taka bows to no one except his gentle lover Har.

For thousands of years the two men have been doomed to a life of torment. While one walks the earth, the other suffers under the devil’s lash. Their only respite is an occasional night; a random, beautiful, love-filled night, knowing that with the dawn one of them must die in battle and return to Satan’s wrath.

On the war-torn fields of Gettysburg the two lovers are reunited once again. But this time something beyond Hell’s reach has happened. Something so wondrous, Satan may finally get his wish.

Radio DJ Scott Kincaid’s first caller of the night is a lady who died forty-nine years ago. The second wants to knock his head off. And he thought falling in love would be easy.

Maureen and Frank Johnson shared the kind of romance most people believe only exists in movies. Until a ballroom fire took Maureen’s life.

Franci Johnson grew up hearing her grandparents’ love story a thousand times and wishes to find the kind of undying love Frank and Maureen had once upon a time.

DJ Scott Kincaid just wants the ghost following him to go away. But Maureen thinks the hunky DJ might be just the answer to her granddaughter’s dreams.

Life just is richer when KevaD is around. Keep up with his blogs, read his books and join us tonight right here for a live chat at 7:00 - 9:00 p.m. EST.  Mozilla Firefox doesn't always work great for my chat room. Explorer and Chrome are more predictable. I hope you'll join us. It'll be a blast.

KevaD's Blog

Buy his Noble titles.

Buy all KevaD's titles.

 

For weeks I've been blogging about Nopeming Shores. It's been an adventure that has taken me across America, Canada, the UK, and Australia. Some of you could probably write my biography because you follow me so closely. Thank you. It's always nice to know a handful of loyal friends and fans will show up, drinks in hand, and read what I have to say. Just like today.

Today, I'm letting YOU do the talking. The title of this blog is actually from a review. Today, I weave a new tale about Nopeming Shores based on unedited reader reviews and comments. Take the journey to Nopeming Shores.

"A bomb killed Lily's husband Gabe when he was stationed overseas. Having a hard time functioning and moving on, she fears for her sanity when she sees Gabe and his poetry around the house. What she doesn't know is Gabe visits her from the grave in attempt to help her move past his death. The journey of a widow coping with the untimely death of her husband in the war could never be an easy one. But watching Lily grieve was such an authentic experience for me. The complexity of Lily's emotions, the conflict, the longing all ring true for anyone who has lost someone dear. I was very touched by Gabe and Lily's love and passion for each other in both the living and spirit realms.

"Gabe, as a ghost, trying to shepherd her through on her journey, is the hero, the voice of comfort and reassurance. He's not without his own ghostly turmoil. I adored the paranormal/ghost story aspect of the story with Gabe. It is a wonderful thing to believe or hope that our deceased loved ones visit us through our difficult time. I liked how Gabe had a hard time with his death and leaving Lily. Their scenes together are heart wrenching. Author Margie Church weaves a love story so bittersweet in "Nopeming Shores" that I found myself wailing like a baby during several passages. There, my heart was so deeply rent that I felt as if I had begun channeling Lily herself. Margie so deftly deposits the reader into the anguish of her characters that one can become viscerally engaged in the moment. Luckily, Lily has some great friends to help her through her difficult time, even if the relationships are strained. These friends offer hints of hope in a dark time and a much needed reprise to such a difficult subject. In addition, Margie esteems our military service people by creating characters of honor and integrity, and I heartily applaud her for that. The end of the story was just lovely, and was filled with hope, ending on a positive note despite Gabe's loss. Lily is smiling again, and Gabe is in a very good place. You can almost hear the hearts healing. Heartbreaking and yet life-affirming, and if you somehow make it through the rest of the story without tears, have a box of tissues on hand for the final scene at the titular lake.

"Nopeming Shores is a superbly crafted tale sure to enthrall readers. Just have plenty of Kleenex handy. The characters are well executed, the writing intriguing, and the overall story is completely engrossing. Enter the exquisite poetry of J. Andrew Lockhart. Margie teamed up with someone I consider to be the "Master of Haiku" to compel Gabe's words to pierce the heart with their beauty, and they in turn become the salve that soothes Lily's wounded one. J. Andrew's poetry is as visually stunning as Margie's story-crafting is; in fact it's a match made in Heaven. The masterful infusion of Andrew J Lockhart's unique poetry takes this book from a satisfied read on your bookshelf to centerpiece on your coffee table in order to share and discuss this novel over tea with your friends. Yeah. This book's that good. "This is my Favorite Romance book by Margie Church. Margie has a talent for lush description: the scent of worn clothing, the crack of dried brush underfoot, the whisper of a kiss, are all palpable. I shed quite a few tears...like half a tissue box full. The power of love, even in death, to inspire hope comes through like a beacon. If you love a beautiful tale that transcends time and barriers of all kinds, this is the story for you. I found love and soothing waters in "Nopeming Shores", and I know you will too. I would highly, highly recommend this story for anyone looking for a unique, inspirational love story that will definitely stick with you. This story will stay with you long after you read the last line, and really displays the versatility and amazing emotional pitch that Margie Church lends to her writing. Nopeming Shores, despite its length, is solid competition for Nicholas Sparks' best work. If you buy only one book this year, make it Nopeming Shores.

"What are you waiting for? Read. This. Novella!!!"

Whew. After all that and everything I've written about the book, I find it hard to believe I have an original thought left to say about Nopeming Shores.

And yet I do.

Thank you.

 

Nopeming Shores is available in eBook and will be available in print this week. Get it on Amazon. If you would like a Kindlegraph, please let me and/or J. Andrew Lockhart know. We'd be happy to send you one.

Welcome Kelly Lee to Romance With SASS! It's release day for her debut novel, Murdering Eve! She was kind enough to answer my nosy Q&A and still provide a contest. So, read all the way to the end for a chance to win!

Hello everyone! I'm thrilled to be here at Romance with SASS. Today is a red-letter day for me, as my first novel is being released as we speak…er, type. J  It's called Murdering Eve and it's filled with suspense, magic, and steamy romance. Thank you, Margie, for letting me come talk to your readers!

What's been your biggest joy as a writer?

My biggest joy has been writing that last line of a manuscript. Even when you know you've got tons of work ahead with editing, submitting, and the publishing process, it's such a wonderful feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction to "finish" a book. And, of course, there's the incomparable feeling of BOOK RELEASE DAY!  You'll have to excuse me, I'm rather giddy at the moment.

Biggest challenge?

Aside from the business side of being an author, which really doesn't address the question, the answer is quite boring. My biggest challenge is time. I aspire to be a full time writer, but I'm not - yet. I still do what many authors do, hold a full time job and write whenever I can. Because I've got a four year-old daughter and another baby on the way, a husband, friends, and all the distractions of a wonderfully full and busy life, some days it feels like I've fought in a Battle Royale just to write a few lines. That said, I'm very grateful for my supportive family, and thankfully – they love pizza. It's a good thing, because they eat it a LOT!

Are you a plotter or a pantser and why?

I begin with an outline, but if I'm honest I'd have to say I'm a pantser all the way. When I start a book I have a thorough understanding of my characters, their motivations, and ultimately what's going to happen, but how they get there is a wondrous journey we take together. One of the best parts of writing a book is when your character grabs you by the throat and says, "Kelly, here's what I'm going to do today. Just sit back and take notes." You never know when that's going to happen, and you pray you've got lots of time allocated for writing, because baby – that muse can be a whip-wielding slave driver when she wants to be!

Do you belong to any writer's groups or organizations and if so, how do they benefit you?

I belong to both the RWA and my local chapter, the Dallas Area Romance Authors. I wish I'd joined both a lot earlier than I actually did. As a first time author, I had the impression I wouldn't be considered "serious" until I'd finished my first manuscript. Boy, I was wrong! When I started out, I felt so isolated and that was really unnecessary. If you're an aspiring writer, getting the support of a local writing group or critique buddies is critical.

Do you have to get in the mood to write a love scene?

Being in the mood isn't as important as making sure you have adequate time allocated to really get into the scene. Funny enough, if I'm not IN the mood when I start, I certainly am by the time I'm finished!

Do you use your personal sex life as fodder for your books?

Doesn't everyone? J I think all writers draw upon real life experiences to some degree, but I really let loose and let my imagination run wild when I write love scenes. I've not had first-hand experiences of everything my characters do, but that's the beauty of fiction. Even if I haven't been held aloft against a wall with my thighs resting on the wide shoulders of my partner…I've certainly thought about it!

Margie, I'd be delighted to share a blurb and excerpt of my new release – Murdering Eve. The story won the 2011 Reader's Favorite award in the Romance / Fantasy-Sci Fi category, and I'm so grateful to everyone who has shown support. The whole experience has been such a whirlwind!

Blurb:

Eve Moore is very likely going insane. In one week’s time, she has clear memories of surviving a murderous attack by her dead husband’s mistress, teleporting to another Realm, learning her best friend isn’t human, and uncovering the existence of trolls, titans and mythical Gods. If she hadn’t gone off her nut, Eve wouldn’t be coming to grips with the fact that her mother had an affair with an immortal and she is apparently their love-child.

But since she’s getting pretty comfortable with it all, she figures she's probably strapped down somewhere cold and antiseptic with drool dribbling down her chin. Except if she’s locked in sanitarium, as she must be, why is she so damn scared of the God of War that threatened to send her soul to the Underworld? And why does the mere glance from a gorgeous man, one that she was tasked to find and return to Olympus, set fire racing through her veins?

Whether it’s reality or lunacy, Eve has no idea, but she is on one hell of a ride. If only she could get that red-headed harlot who tried to kill her the first time to cease and desist on the murder attempts, she could enjoy her psychosis in peace…

 Excerpt:

Whit grunted as he shifted his weight and stood up. He walked to the fire to stoke it with what little dry wood he had left. Eve looked at him longingly, his back turned to her. Her gaze trailed down the length of wavy brown hair, and she admired the broadness of his strong back, tapering to a narrow waist. She paused briefly, resting her stare on his ass, then traveled lower, to thighs as thick as tree trunks. She remembered their kiss in the clearing, and her body went from bone-cold to pulsing with heat. He had said he could hold her up with one hand while he ravished her for hours. Was he merely making a point, or had he actually meant it?

A fantasy took shape in her mind as she visualized him balanced on those muscular legs, thighs spread slightly, bearing the weight of not only his body, but hers as well, as he pressed her back into the bark of the tree he'd been sitting beneath. She itched to press her fingertips into his skin, to cling to those enormous shoulders. Her tongue slid across the swell of her lips, thinking about licking the sweat from his neck. She rubbed a hand restlessly on the top of her thigh as she envisioned him nudging her legs farther apart, opening her body, and gently pushing into her center. Heat pooled low in her belly at the image in her mind's eye.

Whit turned halfway and stopped, showing her only a carefully masked profile.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she said. But instead of sounding nonchalant, the word came out gravelly and deep. Butterflies took flight in her stomach at the dead giveaway.

"Trust me, you're doing something. I went from freezing my ass off to sweating in ten seconds flat. Your power is searing me."

She dropped her gaze and the temperature abated, but only slightly. She couldn't control her stream of consciousness, still firmly focused on Whit's body and what she wanted to do to it. She wanted him to come to her. Badly. She cleared her throat to get her voice under control.

"You must be cold out there, that's all. I was sending you warm thoughts. I guess it worked."

"That's all you were thinking?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I want to know because I can't stand any more uncertainty between us." He swiveled around and glowered at her. "You either want me, or you don't. If you don't, you need to shut down whatever it is you're doing, because I've lost all ability to be stoic."

Hope swirled in her chest. "You've been stoic?"

Whit snorted. "Hell yes, I've been stoic. Since the first moment I saw you in the forest, I've had to fight off my body's response to you. You need to know that I don't have much fight left."

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but turned his face away abruptly.

She opened her mouth with a get-your-ass-over-here-and-kiss-me on the tip of her tongue when he looked back at her. His expression of profound longing rendered her speechless as she swallowed over a lump forming in her throat.

"Come here." She sat up and stretched out her arms, welcoming him.

He hesitated, as he looked at her with an unspoken question in his eyes.

"Please, Whit, come here."

Thunder clapped suddenly, so loud that Eve involuntarily scrunched her eyelids. When she opened her eyes, her heart pounding, Whit was already there, dropped down in a crouch with his hands on the ground on either side of her hips.

His lips hovered mere inches from hers. "Are you sure? Don't invite me in if you're going to change your mind. I . . . I don't think I can handle that from you. Not now. Not anymore."

Eve didn't dignify his comment with a response. She shot her hands into his hair and wound the strands luxuriously around her fingers, then tugged him forward, closing the distance between them. Their lips pressed together gently once, twice, and then she felt him pull back. She tugged a little harder, but he was immovable, his self-control ever-present, even though he'd claimed to have none left.

She snaked her tongue over to his, coaxing, and she felt a tremor of anticipation when his breath sucked in sharply at the delicate mingling. In a moment of suspended animation, Eve held her breath, as frozen in place as Whit was. She stared into his eyes, and saw the first crack of his resolve, like fissures erupting in a dam right before an explosion of water breaks through. Arching her back so her breasts brushed against his chest, she closed her lips on his tongue and gently sucked, eliciting a roar from deep in his throat that set fire racing through her veins.

The next few seconds were a blur. One minute he was poised over her, his body taut and coiled like a snake ready to strike; the next he was on top of her, flattening her back into the bed of leaves that comprised the floor of her shelter. He supported most of his massive weight by his arms, but there was so much of him. The heaviness of his muscular upper body wasn't smothering, it was comforting, and she wanted more. The harder he pressed into her, the harder she wanted it, thinking a hairsbreadth of empty space between their bodies was too much.

Eve craved his bare skin against hers, but she couldn't tear her fingers out of his hair to rip away the offensive clothing. Even if she could, her brain had shut down all cognitive thought. She knew he only had two hands, and that one of them gently cupped the back of her head protectively, and the other grasped her waist. But like the night before, standing in the cabin, she felt his hands everywhere at once. Fingers of air dragged up the back of her legs, and the flat palm of an invisible hand against her belly moved lower, throwing Eve's mind into a frenzy of lust.

 Want more?

Murdering Eve is available starting today at NobleRomance.com,  and coming soon to Amazon.com.

Visit www.kellyleefiction.com, and check out the contest to win yourself a copy. Send her an email, "like' her on Facebook, or becoming a follower of her blog by November 15th, and you'll be registered to win!

Thanks for a great interview and excerpt, Kelly. Welcome to the craziness of being a published author. I wish you well and much success with Murdering Eve and all your future works.

Hello folks! The indelible Margie Church has graciously offered me a bit of space on her blog today. So I guess I should start out by apologizing, sorry for dragging down your black market value Margie!

Most of you don’t know me, and for good reason, I’m one of the new kids on the writing block. Yep, I still have my new car smell; eh, you’ll have to take my word on that. Margie being the ever patient saint she is, knew the risks of agreeing to let me play with her pixels and still gave me the green light. *rubs hands together and laughs maniacally* Whatever’s about to happen I’ll take full responsibility. Have I apologized yet? Oh yes, I did, good! Let’s get to this then.

To say the least, I was thrilled, giddy and overwhelmed by this opportunity. But I knew conning her into letting me play here was only the first step; I had to sit down (calm down) and find something worthwhile to write. Can you imagine? Trying to find a topic to write about on a professional author’s blog that is both relevant to me, you - her readers and hasn’t been talked to death about? It wasn’t an easy feat. But I’m willing to give it an honest effort.

While the thought that we romance writers are so powerful that we could snooker the skirts off a nun is humorous, it’s simply not true. Think about it for a moment. If this assertion was true, readers of fiction in general would be boarding their houses up in preparation for the upcoming zombie apocalypse, they’d be readying their flight plans to Never Never Land, or perhaps sleeping with a garlic garland in an attempt to ward off stalking vampires. That last one there would be a marriage killer for sure, far better than reading a little naughty tidbit. Silly, isn’t it?

Saying that those who read erotic romance become so enthralled with the subject matter that they find their spouse less satisfying is a fairly sizable insult. What those making these blanket statements are saying is that Jane Doe was smart enough to marry John Doe (they weren’t related prior, I promise) but as their happy marriage wore on Jane was led astray by the big bad wolf who sucked her brain out with a straw. When she was returned to John, she realized she liked the wolf better. The truth of the matter is more likely Jane and John had children (let’s name them Jack and Jill), worked a full time job a piece, were stressed out by looming bills, mortgage payments, and obscene work deadlines and realized the love was no longer like it was. Rather than working together to fix the problems they had, John felt it was easier to blame the stack of saucy stories in Jane’s closet.

I like to think our readers are smarter than that. After all, they are reading this as we speak. *waves hello*

Enough of that. Blaming problems on an inanimate object is far too easy, but that’s not reality. Life is not easy. It’s painful, difficult, and I’m afraid answers are just not that simple. And our readers are not stupid. (Am I winning any brownie points yet?)

And with this horribly long lead in completed I’d like to address my point to all this blathering. I’m a relatively new comer to the erotic romance scene. Call me a late bloomer. So if anyone is susceptible for being led astray, it should be someone like me, little miss innocent (stop laughing). Right?! But rather than being brainwashed into thinking my husband is substandard and sending me swiftly on a pilgrimage for the aforementioned romance hunks, reading and writing in this genre has relaxed my social misconceptions of acceptable love, sex and foreplay. I’ve found myself more interested in exploring certain things with my husband. You could say it has expanded my perceptions a bit. Don’t ask I’m not going to hand out details, not in an open forum at least. My marriage and sex life have grown (please forgive the pun, thank you) since exploring the erotic romance genre. I would go as far as saying that because of my involvement in this genre I’m more comfortable expressing my wants and needs with my partner as well as being more receptive to his.

There’s no doubt this has affected my life positively, not only in the bedroom, but in my creative world as well. What started as a challenge by a friend, writing my first erotic romance short story has provided me with my first publication opportunity. Sly’s Surrender is a contemporary BDSM fiction set to be released through Noble Romance Publications on November 21st.  It’s not even released yet but I’ve already made so many contacts with so many great writers in this genre its mind boggling. Being a writer by its nature alone is a reclusive occupation. Everything from the writing process to publication, marketing and promotions takes up so much of the author’s time that it’s easy for us to feel isolated and alone. But I’ve had exactly the opposite experience with my involvement in this genre. I’ve been put in touch and welcomed with open arms by so many incredibly talented, creative folks. It’s overwhelming.

If my experience has proven anything to me, it’s that the writers in the romance genre are far from the social degenerates naysayers would have you believe. They are certainly not conspiring to foil the sacred nature of marriage and healthy loving relationships.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion of course, but before blanket statements are made (and accepted) saying that an entire genre is responsible for the downfall of the sanctity of marriage think about the implications. What’s not being communicated is that the genre is bad, but that the readers are accused of being too dim to discern fiction from reality.

Before I go, I want to share the blurb for Sly’s Surrender, my Naughty Nibble book coming out  November 21, from Noble Romance. I hope you'll watch for it!

Sly's Surrender, by R. Renee Vickers

By day Sly is a take-charge, no-nonsense restaurateur, and at night she plays her hand as a demanding mistress. Sly has everything her heart desires: a successful business with loyal patrons, a gorgeous boyfriend and a flare for dominating in the bedroom. Everything she’s ever tried has gone her way, every decision followed to success, every goal achieved, and yet she yearns for more.    

One night she decides to try something new, giving up her customary control to the tall, dark, and sexy Jake.  Jake is put in a position to prove to his lover just what he’s capable of, and Sly experiences the new pleasures to be found in letting someone else handle her reins.

Lastly, as a thank you for stopping by and visiting today, I have a $5.00 Noble Romance gift card  to give away to one lucky, random commenter. Don't forget your email address. And I certainly couldn’t leave without thanking our lovely hostess, Margie Church. It’s been an incredible pleasure being here with you today.

Renee, thanks for being my guest today. I appreciate your perspectives on this issue. It's certainly something most of us have faced when we meet people who ridicule the genre. And thank you also, for elevating my ego to monstrous proportions. Best wishes with Sly's Surrender. I'll be cheering you on. Come back when it's out and blog with me again.

Margie