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Monday, February 28, 2011

Monday Spotlight: Wendi Zwaduk


In the Midnight Hour

When I sit down to write, I’ll be honest, it’s not really a planned thing. Most of the time, I have an idea what I want to write, yes, but a whole outline? No. It’s a pretty organic experience. And when I sit down to write, it’s not the normal times, like a plan. Oh no. I fly by wire write. Schedule to write? Pish tosh. That’s for those writers.

Ok, not really. I read an interview with an author and she mentioned that she has set times she writes. Like a job. Radical thought. I mean, I’d LOVE to have a set time I can write and be creative. The boon it must be. 

But no. My characters, much as my life, do not cooperate when the clock says it’s time to write. I have a day job and that’s pretty well on a schedule. I even add in time to get some errands done as well as put in time on the treadmill. Then add the thrill of a DH and a youngling. Try telling a youngling they have to cooperate around Mommy’s schedule. They want attention just as much as the characters do. And then there’s DH. Aren’t we going to ‘research’ tonight?

So when do I write? In the midnight hour. Oh and I love to listen to Wilson Pickett as I’m writing. That sax solo in the bridge...shivers. But back to writing. I’d love to have a set schedule, when the characters want to work. I think it’s a product of being an artist as well as an author. Creativity isn’t contained in the hours of nine to five. Might be for some, but not for me. Now granted, I’ve had sparks of creativity when the sun shone. Plenty of them. Most of those are little ditties that don’t make it into the final story.

I can’t tell you the last time I had a story work itself out in the daylight hours. But at the same time, I can tell you I’ve had some of the hottest ideas come to me—right before I crash for bed. Have you ever tried reading your own handwriting in the morning after writing something in the pitch black of 3 am? It’s not easy. But I challenge you to try it. Call it a double dog dare.

And speaking of dog dares, it sometimes takes a full on dare to get the characters to cooperate. I’ve said that a couple times now, but it’s the truth. It’s like, oh, it’s dark out, we must play. Oh, you want to sleep? We want to get it on.

I can see you now. You’re rolling your eyes. Must be such a burden to have creativity. Never said it wasn’t fun. I love the reactions I get from people, especially on Facebook, when I post something like, was up til 3 trying to get Logan out of bed. He’d rather stay naked. 

Virtual brows raise. I love it.

And now it’s pushing midnight. What am I doing? Writing this post. I should be working on a WIP. Nah, it’s too early. When do you write? When does creativity strike the strongest for you? Let me know. Maybe our muses can have a play date.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Her Surprise by Azura Ice


The aroma of prime rib and sautéed vegetables permeates the apartment. I draw in a lungful of the intoxicating scent. Amy promised me a grand meal, but I can’t wait to find out what her “special surprise” is. Although we’ve been serious about one another for the last four months, I adore Amy and she never ceases to amaze me.

I finger the small, square jewelry box in the pocket of my suit jacket. Is it too soon to propose? My stomach clenches with worry. Amy means everything to me. I can’t imagine my life without her.

“Jack,” she calls from the bedroom. “Are you ready for my surprise, honey?”

“We haven’t had our supper yet,” I reply loudly. Oh, brilliant response, knucklehead. That ranks right up there with farting during sex. Amy is probably cussing me this very instant.

Laughter filters into the dining room. “This is part of supper, silly.”

I blow out a big sigh of relief. Upsetting Amy is the last thing I want to do. She’s such an amazing person. Not only is she intelligent, witty, and warm, she’s a buxom and voluptuous woman with curves that would make a serpent beg for mercy.

“Okay, babe,” I say. “I’m game.”

“Cool! You’re going to love this.” Silence. A soft rustling floats into the dining room, followed by, “Ready?”

“Yes!”

The gentle padding of footsteps on carpet reaches me. Next, the click of what I assume are high heels fills the tiled back hall. Amy emerges, and my mouth drops open.

Oh. What. A. Beautiful. Woman.

I can’t help it. One look at Amy in pink ankle boots with clear, five-inch heels, sheer mesh boy shorts with ruffles, also in soft pink, and a pale pink Le Mystere Carina bra sends white-hot need through my body. The light speed of Captain Kirk’s Enterprise has nothing on the desire whizzing down behind the zipper of my slacks.

“Jack?” says Amy. “Are you okay, honey?”

“I… I…”

“Jack?” This time the note of worry and disappointment in her voice forces me to blink and gulp as I gather my scattered wits.

“You—you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Amy,” I manage, my heart racing so hard it’s a miracle it doesn’t shatter against my ribs.

“Oh, you’re such a sweetheart,” she coos. “I’m so lucky to have met you.” Amy sashays toward me, her ample hips swaying, heavy, ripe breasts straining against the bra, her chic boots clasping her shapely calves.

Yeah, I admit it. I’m smitten. Amy is the epitome of lusciousness—my own little Mae West right down to her pale blonde hair.

The most glorious smile graces her smooth, angelic face. “You’re too good to me, Jack.”

I act on the moment and withdraw the two-carat diamond ring from my pocket. Flipping the box open and holding it out to Amy, I ask, “Will you marry me?”

“I should wear sexy lingerie more often,” she jokes, but I still detect the awe in her voice. “The ring is amazing.” Her eyes shimmer with wetness.

“Amy?” Worry hits me square in the gut.

Giggling, she replies, “Yes, I’ll marry you.” She wraps her arms around me, hugging, kisses my lips, and then lowers one hand to my crotch. She cups the growing bulge there, and I suck in a desirous breath.

Although I want her, relief surges through my heart like a bird just given its freedom. “I love you.” “Come show me how much, lover.” Amy turns, walking back toward the bedroom, hips swaying in a silent invitation. “Supper will be another thirty minutes, so we have time for a quick romp.”

“Can I put the ring on your finger?”

She waits for me, and with shaking hands, I slip the sparkling gem on her finger.

Amy starts toward the bedroom again.

“Babe?” I say.

She glances over one round, bare shoulder and says in her best Mae West imitation, “If you come to my bedroom, big boy, I’ll let you put something inside me too.”

My cock twitches in anticipation, and, heart thundering in excitement, I follow her into the gold and pale blue bedroom. She slides the boy shorts down over her round hips. Once they fall to her ankles, she kicks them off. Kneeling on the bed, Amy crawls toward the headboard like a prowling cat. Saliva floods my mouth at the sight of her creamy, round ass, and a vision of me thrusting into her tight sleeve doggy style flashes through my mind. Amy stops, rolls onto her back, then, with her knees up, plants the heels of her sexy boots against the comforter, her thighs spread wide for my viewing.

The hard-on behind my zipper begins to hurt. Oh, how I want to fuck my fiancée. My cock throbs harder as I approach the bed and unzip my pants, but first I have to taste her.

Not only is the outfit a surprise, but I’m thrilled to discover she’s had a Brazilian done to her pussy. I settle between her legs, and nestle my face against her warm, satiny folds, her scent soft, musky.

“Oh!” she gasps and threads her fingers into my hair.

Sliding my hands along either side of her hips, I grip them and pull her tighter to my face. Amy murmurs her delight, the sound throaty and full of desire. With my tongue, I flick the little pink nub that always gives her such pleasure. It’s like a soft candy that only I get to sample, and as I lick and suckle there, Amy begins wiggling, her fingers tugging on my hair, hips thrusting, pushing her cunt upward so I have better access.

Within moments, Amy stiffens. She sucks in a breath, followed by a squeal of rapture that nearly makes me come too. I smile against her moist folds, licking her juices as she cries out more. She trembles, thighs quivering as her climax ripples through her.

I’m so lucky. Amy is my lover and the core of my heart. I have a rubenesque woman who’s smart, witty, and fun. One who met me tonight dressed in a fantastic outfit that led to before-dinner delights—so what more could a man ask for?

About the author: Azura Ice writes several subgenres of romance, which includes but is not limited to het, ménage, m/m and can be set in contemporary times or even in a far away world or another dimension. Azura's muse leads her by the hand, and her fingers do the light-speed typing. http://ablueice.wordpress.com

Author Interview: L.K. Below


Whipped Cream is pleased to welcome L.K. Below whose newest book Winter Worship is being released this week by Breathless Press.

L.K., who also writes as Lindsay Below, writes not only erotic romance, but also fantasy and young adult. When she started writing seriously, she wanted to write fantasy because, at that time, it was mostly what she read. Then a friend slipped her a paranormal romance book.

"Paranormal has many similarities to fantasy, so it intrigued me, and I started writing that," she explained. "Eventually, I crossed genres into historical romance and inevitably, my characters brought me into contemporary romance, too. I like to say I write everything -- because my characters come from all walks of life. I go wherever the story takes me and worry about genre or subgenre after."

Recently, Lindsay sat down and wrote a historical novella that had no sex in it whatever.

"In fact, the hero and heroine didn't even share a kiss until the end," she said. "I found it liberating to write. Although challenging, I was able to sit down and focus entirely on emotions and the main characters falling in love without side tracking to anything physical. Neither is more challenging in a technical sense; switching from erotic to non-erotic was the challenging part. I had to develop new ways for the hero and heroine to form a connection. But I love to experiment with my works, so I was more than eager to make the switch!"

When Lindsay is writing, she comes to the page with an "anything goes" attitude and just lets her characters frolic as they will.

"The emotion that develops between them because of this has never led me wrong," she said."In short, I write a story and then let my critique partners and beta readers tell me whether it's a good one."

"What are the biggest public misconceptions about erotica?" I asked.

"A lot of people assume that erotica is pornography. It isn't, at least not in my opinion. Good erotica takes you on a sexual journey, yes, but there are emotions involved. Complex characters and motives and above all, some semblance of a plot. The sex isn't for purposes of titillation -- it's there so that the main characters can explore each other, their feelings, and their connection. Many times romance and erotic romance aren't set on the same level -- in fact, I've been excluded from groups because they've discovered that I write erotica, too. But despite that discrimination in what I write, I refuse to let it set me back. Only people who have never read erotic romance will be able to call it porn. I try to steer clear of those kinds of people."

Lindsay loves to write historical and, most of the time, she sits down at the computer, starts with a question, and watches it evolve from there. She tries to find genuine texts from the time period she's researching.

"For instance, in a work-in-progress, the story is set in Colonial times, right on the cusp when the 'New World' began to be populated. Because of this, Native Americans feature heavily into this book; in fact, the hero is one. When I was looking up the culture, etc. I stumbled on an account written by a Dutch boy who was traded to the Powhatan natives in exchange for a village," she explained. "This account regales not only the life of the Powhatans, but also certain events which I have incorporated into my novel. If you're writing historicals, I can't stress enough the value in digging up certain texts like these. They always help me to enter the mindset of the period."

Her family is very supportive of her writing; even though her father doesn't read it, he proudly tells everyone that he knows about her work.

"I think they've both gotten me a few new fans that way," she said. "And even though he's not technically family, my boyfriend reads my stuff, too. In fact, his insight into some of my works is invaluable. I know I can always count on him to give an honest opinion, and to help me fix what needs fixing."

On a personal note, I asked Lindsay about body piercing.

"Body piercing, if done tastefully, is exotic. It highlights and accentuates parts of the body through color and shape. I'll admit, I have quite a few piercings already. Most are on my ears, but I also have my belly button and my lip pierced. Because I think that too many piercings on the face in particular can be distasteful and overdone, I don't plan on piercing myself again. But I suppose if I did, I would pierce my nose, on the opposite side of where my lip is pierced, so they could compliment and balance each other out."

Lindsay has been a vegetarian for the past seven years, so when I asked about one food she can't bring herself to eat, meat and seafood topped the list. Her absolute favorite food, however, is crepes. She also loves baked goods of any kind and loves to bake and experiment.

"What is your favorite letter?" I asked.

"L for Lindsay," she said, adding with a grin, "whoops, I mean 'Love.'"

"What about your strangest habit?"

"Don't get me started. I'm the Queen of Strange. When I drink from a bottle or glass, I always lift my pinky (though I don't realize I'm doing it). I always wear a blue sock on my right foot (the left foot can be any color but blue). When I'm the passenger in a car and we drive over train tracks, I have to lift my feet and touch something black. The list goes on and on..."

When she's not writing, she can usually be found reading or at a book sale.

"What can I say, I'm a complete bookworm. I have a library of my own, mostly consisting of obscure, really old books. I have books whose print dates I don't know, and books ranging from 1896-1930 and upward. I can't resist buying a new, old book."

Finally, I asked Lindsay what advice she would give to a new writer just starting out.

"Don't give up. It can't be said enough. The publishing industry is a tough place to break into, but all it takes is a little persistence. If writing is what you really want to do, don't let anything anyone says stop you. And find yourself a good friend who can talk you through the low points and keep you going."

You can keep up with Lindsay on her blog, http://lbelow.blogspot.com

Friday, February 25, 2011

Friday Spotlight: Beverly Rae

Santa Shafted Me 

   I know Christmas has passed, but I'm still miffed. Santa didn't leave me what I wanted under the tree. Seriously, Big Guy, what's up with that? Although I'd been good all year, my stocking didn't hold the one gift I really wanted: an iPad.

   Yeah, I know I shouldn't complain. I received very nice gifts this year. This on top of already being blessed with numerous items other writers don't have. For instance, I have my own desktop computer that I don't share with either my husband or my teen. Whenever I want to write, I write. Not every writer can say as much.

   Next, I have a netbook computer, too. Granted, I don't use this much, but it's there if I ever want to sit on the couch and write instead of staying in my office. My hubby, however, uses it a lot. You know. For important things like searching YouTube videos. 

   I also have a Kindle2 and I love it. Fortunately for me, I'm able to download any eBook I want. (I know it's kind of egotistical, but I download my own books just so I can have them on my Kindle.) In fact, I'm thinking of buying either the newest Kindle or the Nook. So again, I shouldn't complain, right? Yeah, well…

   I have a terrific office that's only for my use. No hubby, no teen, no one can enter without my permission. Oh, and maybe the permission of my four dogs. After all, all their toys are in my office so it's kind of their room, too.

   I also have the biggest thing that all writers want. I have the time to write. Unlike many authors, I don't work outside the home. I get to spend every day sitting at my computer doing what I love to do. So, again, I shouldn't complain.

   But I still want an iPad. The funny thing is, I don't even know why I want one other than the fact that it's cool. I love cool electronic gadgets. Isn't that reason enough? Yeah, I know. Probably not.

   Still, I want one and since Santa failed me, I'm hoping Valentine's Day will do the trick. Either that or the Easter Bunny will hide one under a bush for me. Here's crossing my fingers for good luck!
When hunter becomes hostage, the only question is: Death by bite, or by bullet?

Cannon Pack, Book 3

At night, Lauren Kade trades her white coat and dental drill for a black uniform and a gun. But not to hunt the shifters she once swore to eliminate. Driven by lingering guilt for killing a female shifter a year ago, she covertly throws other hunters off the trail. She’s good at it, too…until she’s taken hostage by a sexy werewolf whose thirst for revenge is even bigger and badder than his attitude.

Daniel Cannon tried everything to outrun the pain of his mate’s murder, but when hunters take down another pack member, it’s more than he can stand. Now that he’s got one of them at his mercy, though, something strange is happening. Her day job may set his teeth on edge, but her luscious curves make him salivate. In spite of her past sins, she insists she’s reformed into some kind of werewolf guardian angel.

Worse, his heart wants to believe her, and his body aches to mark her as his. Yet going against his instincts could turn him from lover to prisoner. Just when his pack needs him most…

Product Warnings

Be advised. This is not a test. Your limits are about to be pushed. Your desires will be met. Your heart will burst with pleasure and your dreams will be fulfilled. Prepare yourself for sex hotter than the sun on the driest desert. And if you dare, then run with the pack.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Thursday Spotlight: Beverly Rae

What's Bugging You? 
   What bugs you? What changes you from a normal, well-adjusted, sane person into a person who wants to throttle someone's neck? What really ticks you off?

   In our increasingly frantic world where space is becoming more limited and time is crammed pack with errands and work, do you find that people are growing more impatient? I think so. Consider this. How often do you find yourself clenching your hands while in public, just trying to keep your temper under wraps? I bet you do that more than you think you do.

   Here's just a few of things that really bother me. Things that, if I'm honest with myself, didn't bother me a few years ago.

   Gum chewing: Why must the gum chewing person make those damn popping sounds? Must they let everyone around them know how much they're enjoying their gum? And don't even get me started about gum on the bottom of my shoe! Seriously, people, use a trash can.

   Low-riders: No, I'm not speaking of the cars. I'm talking about the way young men wear their jeans. How can that be comfortable? Aren't they afraid their pants will fall down? Would they even care if they did? In any case, I'm begging you. Please pull them up! I have no desire to know what color your undies are or get an “attack of the crack”.

   Rich people getting richer: Okay, I admit it. I'm jealous. But with less people taking more of the wealth in our country, I'm getting a bit fed up. I mean, seriously, Oprah, how much money does one person need? Answer? Enough to own your own network. Sheesh, I wish.

   Un-fantasy: Yes, I know that's not a real word. But that's not my gripe. My complaint is that I wish the world had more fantasy in it. Not just in books, but with real live fantasy characters like fairies and wizards. Of course, I'm not wishing for a werewolf in my living room or a vampire in my bedroom. Okay, maybe that last one would be good. No, I just want the good stuff like a genie in a bottle that could make all my wishes come true.

   So what bugs you? Do any of my gripes make your list? Or do you have other things that bug you?

   Still, I have to wonder. Has my list grown longer because our world is so harried and people are less polite? Or is it more a matter of my growing older and grumpier? I think maybe it's a combination. Nonetheless, I promise from this point forward to do my best to remain under control and patient of those around me. But if I fail, please accept my apology ahead of time. Sorry!
When hunter becomes hostage, the only question is: Death by bite, or by bullet?

Cannon Pack, Book 3

At night, Lauren Kade trades her white coat and dental drill for a black uniform and a gun. But not to hunt the shifters she once swore to eliminate. Driven by lingering guilt for killing a female shifter a year ago, she covertly throws other hunters off the trail. She’s good at it, too…until she’s taken hostage by a sexy werewolf whose thirst for revenge is even bigger and badder than his attitude.

Daniel Cannon tried everything to outrun the pain of his mate’s murder, but when hunters take down another pack member, it’s more than he can stand. Now that he’s got one of them at his mercy, though, something strange is happening. Her day job may set his teeth on edge, but her luscious curves make him salivate. In spite of her past sins, she insists she’s reformed into some kind of werewolf guardian angel.

Worse, his heart wants to believe her, and his body aches to mark her as his. Yet going against his instincts could turn him from lover to prisoner. Just when his pack needs him most…

Product Warnings

Be advised. This is not a test. Your limits are about to be pushed. Your desires will be met. Your heart will burst with pleasure and your dreams will be fulfilled. Prepare yourself for sex hotter than the sun on the driest desert. And if you dare, then run with the pack.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Wednesday Spotlight: Beverly Rae

Ideas Come from the Strangest Places 
   People often ask me how I come up with ideas for my books. My answer is always the same. I get ideas from everywhere, anywhere and from anyone. An idea can come from one word that I hear spoken by a passerby. Or an idea will form from watching people in a candy store. An idea can come from watching television or just letting my mind wander. It doesn't matter how an idea comes to me; only that they keep coming.

   Case in point, one of my best ideas came during a time of passion. Yep, you read that right. The idea for my latest book came during a time of passion as in right in the middle of making love to my husband.

   Perhaps this is a case of TMI: Too much information. But let me explain. I have never been sexually inhibited. To me, sex is beautiful and a natural expression of love. Why make it seem dirty? I've always been a touchy-feeling kind of gal, but in bed? Well, let's just say I don't hold back and I'm not quiet about it. TMI? Okay, so I'll get on with the story without too many more sexual references.

    One night while hubby and I were─now how shall I say this delicately?─“making whoopee”, he said something that sparked an idea for a book. Right in the middle of you-know-what, he gazed lovingly at me and said, “You're a real wild cat, you know it?”

   I froze, questions racing through my mind. What if I really were a wild cat? What if I really could shift into wild cat form? And what if my wild cat (me!) met another wild cat? Or better yet, a different kind of shifter? I could almost see the plot of the book unraveling. So, instead of finishing what we'd started, I jumped out of bed (against my hubby's loud complaints) and raced downstairs to my office.

   One month later, I'd finished writing the first draft of WILD CAT, book two of my Wild Things series. Thanks, hubby!
When hunter becomes hostage, the only question is: Death by bite, or by bullet?

Cannon Pack, Book 3

At night, Lauren Kade trades her white coat and dental drill for a black uniform and a gun. But not to hunt the shifters she once swore to eliminate. Driven by lingering guilt for killing a female shifter a year ago, she covertly throws other hunters off the trail. She’s good at it, too…until she’s taken hostage by a sexy werewolf whose thirst for revenge is even bigger and badder than his attitude.

Daniel Cannon tried everything to outrun the pain of his mate’s murder, but when hunters take down another pack member, it’s more than he can stand. Now that he’s got one of them at his mercy, though, something strange is happening. Her day job may set his teeth on edge, but her luscious curves make him salivate. In spite of her past sins, she insists she’s reformed into some kind of werewolf guardian angel.

Worse, his heart wants to believe her, and his body aches to mark her as his. Yet going against his instincts could turn him from lover to prisoner. Just when his pack needs him most…

Product Warnings

Be advised. This is not a test. Your limits are about to be pushed. Your desires will be met. Your heart will burst with pleasure and your dreams will be fulfilled. Prepare yourself for sex hotter than the sun on the driest desert. And if you dare, then run with the pack.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Tuesday Spotlight: Beverly Rae

Doing as My Parents Did 

   My husband and I always told our daughter that she will be responsible for paying for her college education. The reasons were several, but the two most important reasons were that her father and I would be retiring (or so we'd thought so before the recession hit) and because we believed she'd appreciate the education more if she paid for it. We told her that we would help, but our contribution would not amount to more than one third of the expense. And, growing up, she believed us. I believed us.

   Or so I thought.

   Now that college is imminent, however, I'm finding it difficult to stick to the plan. After all, my parents paid my way through all four years, so shouldn't I do the same for my child? Sure, her father paid for his education, but that meant we were still paying off his student loans well after graduation. Those are both reasons to help her out, right? Granted, economic conditions are not good and my husband hasn't seen a salary increase in over three years, but we're doing okay. However, my husband is sticking to his guns on this decision.

   Or so I thought.

   He was staying strong, at least, until she received the acceptance notice to her first choice college. Then, when she received a scholarship, I could almost see his resolve bending under the sweet smiles she gave him and the knowing looks I tossed his way. One third of her college education will be paid for by the university's scholarship. Sweet, huh? Yet I could almost hear him wondering. Could we count the scholarship as our one third? Sure. Why not? 

   Or so he thought.

   Since the notice of the scholarship, however, my husband and I have changed our minds. Have we changed them for the better? Who's to say? Instead of saving for our retirement, we're now saving for college. A little late, but there it is. We're about two-thirds of the way to having the necessary money for the first year. The dorm room is reserved and the letter of intent is mailed. We've even signed up for an orientation program designed for the parents of incoming freshmen. We're knee-deep in searching for additional scholarship money. As for the other three years, she'll be on her own.

   Or so we think.
When hunter becomes hostage, the only question is: Death by bite, or by bullet?

Cannon Pack, Book 3

At night, Lauren Kade trades her white coat and dental drill for a black uniform and a gun. But not to hunt the shifters she once swore to eliminate. Driven by lingering guilt for killing a female shifter a year ago, she covertly throws other hunters off the trail. She’s good at it, too…until she’s taken hostage by a sexy werewolf whose thirst for revenge is even bigger and badder than his attitude.

Daniel Cannon tried everything to outrun the pain of his mate’s murder, but when hunters take down another pack member, it’s more than he can stand. Now that he’s got one of them at his mercy, though, something strange is happening. Her day job may set his teeth on edge, but her luscious curves make him salivate. In spite of her past sins, she insists she’s reformed into some kind of werewolf guardian angel.

Worse, his heart wants to believe her, and his body aches to mark her as his. Yet going against his instincts could turn him from lover to prisoner. Just when his pack needs him most…

Product Warnings

Be advised. This is not a test. Your limits are about to be pushed. Your desires will be met. Your heart will burst with pleasure and your dreams will be fulfilled. Prepare yourself for sex hotter than the sun on the driest desert. And if you dare, then run with the pack.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Monday Spotlight: Beverly Rae

Never Say Never 

   I was thirty-five years old when I finally met my husband. I had, in fact, given up on the idea of meeting someone special and getting married. And as for children? Forget about it! I was a teacher and I already had twenty-eight kids clamoring for my attention. Who needed more?

   Children. Urgh. Whenever I thought about children, I imagined dirty diapers, screaming toddlers and attitude-filled teenagers. Why in the world would anyone choose to have children? Not me! I promised myself and everyone who wanted to know that I would never have a child.

   In fact, I was amazed that I'd agreed to date my future husband. After all, he broke my biggest condition regarding men: he had a child. Yet, because he was so sweet and loving, I gave in. Then we fell in love and, miracles of miracles, we got hitched. But still I vowed I'd never have a baby. Not me! Never!

   Oh, how silly I was! One day, while strolling with hubby in the mall and planning our next vacation, I decided to sit on a bench and wait as he dashed into the sporting goods store. As I watched all the shoppers, a lady scooted beside me, shot me a “please, forgive me smile” and tried to calm her wailing baby. I returned her smile, promptly focused on the milling crowd, and tried to ignore the noise of the crying infant. Until, that is, the mother handed the baby to me and asked me to hold her while she dug inside her gigantic baby bag for something called a “binkie”. Needless to say I was thrown but, like the good sport that I was, I cradled the infant in my arms and stared into the squalling red face. 

   “Talk to her,” the baby's mother suggested.

   So I did. And, amazingly, the baby suddenly stopped crying and gazed at me with beautiful blue eyes. 

   “She likes you. You must be great with kids,” Baby Momma declared. 

   I nodded, unable to form words, and placed the child into her mother's open arms. She thanked me again and hurried down the mall.

   A few minutes later, my future husband strolled over to me and asked me why I was crying. My response? “I want a baby.” 

   Never say never!
When hunter becomes hostage, the only question is: Death by bite, or by bullet?

Cannon Pack, Book 3

At night, Lauren Kade trades her white coat and dental drill for a black uniform and a gun. But not to hunt the shifters she once swore to eliminate. Driven by lingering guilt for killing a female shifter a year ago, she covertly throws other hunters off the trail. She’s good at it, too…until she’s taken hostage by a sexy werewolf whose thirst for revenge is even bigger and badder than his attitude.

Daniel Cannon tried everything to outrun the pain of his mate’s murder, but when hunters take down another pack member, it’s more than he can stand. Now that he’s got one of them at his mercy, though, something strange is happening. Her day job may set his teeth on edge, but her luscious curves make him salivate. In spite of her past sins, she insists she’s reformed into some kind of werewolf guardian angel.

Worse, his heart wants to believe her, and his body aches to mark her as his. Yet going against his instincts could turn him from lover to prisoner. Just when his pack needs him most…

Product Warnings

Be advised. This is not a test. Your limits are about to be pushed. Your desires will be met. Your heart will burst with pleasure and your dreams will be fulfilled. Prepare yourself for sex hotter than the sun on the driest desert. And if you dare, then run with the pack.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Startin' With Me by Wendi Zwaduk

“You’ve won.” The reporter, a slender ebony haired woman, nestled close to Tucker. Her voice dropped to a purr. “What are you going to do now?”

“Catch my breath and my girl.” Tucker Poston nudged the woman out of the way and searched the crowd. She wasn’t there. Megan. His woman. He elbowed his car chief, Farin. “Where’s Meg?”

“Left twenty minutes ago, Track Champion,” Farin growled. “Maybe if you’d told her the truth, she’d still be here cheering for you.”

“Stall.” Tucker waved to the throng of camera people. Farin was right. Tucker had screwed up. Megan was the one woman he couldn’t forget and dammit, he wasn’t going to let her slip away. “I gotta catch her and set things right.”

“Try the hauler. She said something about getting out of the way.”

“You’re a good man.” Tucker slapped his friend on the shoulder. “Goodnight folks!” He nodded and ran from the podium. As he pushed through the swarm of people, his pulse sped. Dammit. His relationship with Megan meant way too much to screw up and yet he did every damned time. First the kiss with the trophy queen. Then dumping Megan to date said trophy queen. And yet, Megan remained his closest friend.

When he reached the pits, a single bulb in the hauler bathed the prone race car in a warm yellow glow. His breath clogged in his throat and he took off his hat to run his fingers through his hair. “Meg? Honey, are you here?”

Replacing his hat, he paced the length of the hauler door. “Dammit.”

“I’m up here.”

He jerked to a stop and looked in the direction of her voice. Megan stood, illuminated in the moonlight, atop the hauler. Dark curls tumbled around her face. The denim hugged every curve of her hips and legs like a second skin. The sweatshirt hid the gentle swell of her breasts, but he sure as hell knew. He knew her body as if it were his own and he couldn’t help but smile. He’d seen her standing there plenty of times during the races, but this time she just looked right—destined to be there.

A twinge of sadness streaked through him. She never quite gave up on him, even when she had no reason to care. “Can I explain?”

Megan sighed and sat on the edge of the car transporter. “Sure. Explain away.” She kicked her legs in time to a tune only she could hear. If he reached up, he could touch her and reassure himself he could smooth things out with her.

“Will you come down here? I don’t want to shout.”

She shrugged and stood. For a split second his heart stopped. Would she jump? When she turned on her heel, his heart started beating again. A moment later, Megan appeared in the main garage doorway and folded her arms. “Talk.”

Tucker took a deep breath and let it out slowly. All the words he’d practiced through the race evaporated. He blew the breath out and leaned on the hauler door frame. “I deserve your anger. Every bit of it. I never should’ve been with Kelsey. It was a disaster waiting to happen.”

“She’s pretty and nuts about you.” Megan chewed the corner of her mouth. Her voice remained flat. “I’m not upset.”

“You should be pissed with me. She wanted to ‘be seen with the winner’ so she could milk the spotlight and break into acting. Honey, that’s not what I’m about and I can’t go on like this.”

“Oh really? You’ve managed so far.” This time her words caught. She looked away and picked at the cuff of her sweatshirt. A late September breeze fluffed her hair from her shoulders. If he stepped forward, he could press kisses to her pulse points and wrap her in his embrace.

Tucker inched towards her and smoothed a lock of her hair through his fingers. “I focused on the wrong things before. I thought things with you couldn’t get better, but when they just about fell apart, I saw that, hey this isn’t about me anymore. Winning, racing, it all doesn’t matter if I don’t have you in my corner.”

“You have your pick of women.”

She hadn’t pushed him away, but she hadn’t closed the gap. Her bottom lip trembled and the action stabbed him in the gut. “Meg, listen.” He rested his forehead against hers and cupped her jaw. “I’m a hard man to love. I bleed race fuel, but you understand that. You smile and I know that the shitty run is just that—one run. Any other woman would bolt, but you don’t. Sweets, you have my heart.”

She stared deep into his eyes and sagged into the curve of his body. “Tucker, we’ve been through this.”

“No. We haven’t. You’ve been my rock and I walked all over you.” He feathered a kiss to her lips. “I don’t deserve you, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let you go without a fight.”

A simple smooch wasn’t going to do. He took the kiss further, tasting every inch of her. Her tongue tangled with his as she gripped his fire suit. Her voice cracked and slipped to a whisper. “Don’t do this.”

“What?” he asked, kissing her cheeks. “I can’t stop wanting you. Needing you.”

“Tucker.”

The pleading tone in the way she said his name both thrilled and tore at him. The sounds of footsteps crunched on the gravel. He twined his fingers with hers and led her to the solitude of the front of the car hauler.

“Let me help you.” He grasped her hips and placed her on the hood of the race car. He stood before her and nestled in the crook of her thighs. “You deserve better than a second tier racer and that scares the hell out of me. The moment I think I’ve got everything under control, I find out how fucked up it really is. But I’m not letting the chaos rule any longer.” Tucker rubbed his erection along the seam of her jeans, creating friction and enveloping himself in her heat. “Starting now, starting with me, I’m all yours.”

She snorted and worked the zipper on his fire suit. “You suck at sappy and I’ll dent this hood.”

“Do I have you?” Tucker buried his nose against her neck and sampled the delicate skin. “I can replace the hood, no sweat. I can’t replace you.”

“You’ve always had me.”

Her breathy moan turned him inside out. Tucker shrugged out of the top half of his fire suit. The fabric settled low on his hips. “You know, we haven’t christened the cabin of this hauler."

Megan tugged her sweatshirt up over her head. Her tousled hair spilled onto her shoulders and crimson stained her cheeks. Tucker grabbed the hem of his undershirt, only to have his hands stilled. She produced a condom from her jeans pocket and a smile widened on her kiss swollen lips. “Leave it for now.”

“I love the way you think.” In one swift motion, he worked her jeans down her legs. Dampness darkened her panties. The scent of her arousal, spicy and sweet filled the air. He moaned and worked his cock free from his boxer shorts. Screw dainty and pretty. They’d have that later. Right now he needed to be with her, inside her, a part of her.

Before he knew it, she’d rolled the condom onto his penis and guided him into her wet depths. Another moan rumbled in his throat as he pistoned in and out of her body. Megan clawed at his back and placed biting kisses on his lips. In mere seconds, the orgasm over took him. She muffled her cries in the crook of his neck.

Resting on his elbows, Tucker rubbed his nose over her cheek and fought to catch his breath. “I love you, Megan Noel McCarthy and I’m not giving up on us.”

Her eyes glittered in the dim light. “Take me home and make an honest woman out of me?”

“You got it.”

About the author: I always dreamed of writing the stories in my head. Tall, dark, and handsome heroes are my favorites, as long as he has an independent woman keeping him in line. I tend to write books with titles taken from songs because music is one of my many muses. I earned a BA in education at Kent State university and as well as a Masters in Education from Nova Southeastern University. I've tried my hand at teaching, waitressing, and retail sales, but writing holds my heart. I love NASCAR, romance, books in general, Ohio farmland, dirt racing, and my menagerie of animals. I have six books under contract and more than my brain can handle percolating. I can't wait to share them with you! www.wendizwaduk.com

Author Interview: Sable Hunter


Whipped Cream is pleased to welcome Sable Hunter, who lives half-time in central Texas and half-time RVing. Her newest book, Hot on Her Trail, the second book in the Hell, Yeah series, is being released soon.

I asked Sable how she distinguished between erotica, erotic romance, and pornography.

She decided she would let Libby, the heroine from the first book in her Hell, Yeah series, Cowboy Heat, answer that question.

"Let me set the scene up for you. Libby is in an examining room at a clinic, waiting on the verdict from her physician. To pass the time, she is lying on the hospital bed reading one of her ever-present erotic romance novels. The doctor startles her when he comes in, and she throws the book in the air - hitting him square on the head!

Here is his question and her answer:

“Were you reading porn again, Libby?” Doc Mulligan loved to tease Libby Fontaine. She was as cute as she was sweet.

“It’s not porn, doc. It’s erotic romance; there’s a difference, you know.” She lay still as the physician checked her vital signs.

He was listening to her heart, but it didn’t stop him from continuing his bantering. “Oh my, it must have been some good stuff; your blood pressure is slightly elevated.”

Libby blushed and hid her head in the pillow. “It was pretty hot.”

“Explain to me the difference between porn and erotica. I don’t believe I can live another day without understanding the variances in that particular genre.” Doc Mulligan managed to keep a completely straight face.

Libby grinned; she liked when the doctor joked around. Due to the disease that she had battled for so long, opportunities to socially interact with people were few and far between. Usually, she had been too ill or fatigued to enjoy anyone’s company. Now, her blue eyes sparkled and a dimple came out to play, just past the corner of her top lip. “Not erotica, romantic erotica. Huge difference!"

Doc Mulligan laughed. Libby was such a delight. Never a frown, never a down day – no matter how bad the diagnosis. “Excuse me, O ye hedonist extraordinaire.”

“Whadjacallme?” Fits of giggles escaped as the doctor made a funny face at her.

“A hedonist, my dear, is a person whose life is devoted to the pursuit of pleasure.” He made notes on his clipboard all the while.

“All right, that sounds like something I would be very interested in. Sign me up; I think I’d make an outstanding hedonist. Pleasure seems preferable over pain any old day.” Even though she smiled, Doc Mulligan knew that she was remembering all of the pain that she had endured through the years. Cancer could be a cruel disease.

“I don’t blame you, my dear.” Refusing to be negative, he picked back up on their earlier conversation. “So, explain it to me; what‘s the difference between porn and romantic erotica?”

“That’s easy.” She flipped over on her side, so he could listen to her breathing from the back. “Porn is explicit, graphic descriptions of sex. Romantic Erotica is explicit, graphic descriptions of sex; but the girl and boy love each other very much and there’s always a happy ending.”

“Ah, a happy ending – that’s always good.” In his profession, he didn’t see nearly enough of those.

“Yeah.” Libby grew quiet. What she wouldn’t give for a happy ending.
So: in summation - porn is explicit - for stimulation's sake only - erotica has a plot, but not necessarily a happy one and romantic erotica has an explicit, satisfying love story that takes you behind the bedroom door and describes the lovemaking thrust by thrust and blow by blow - with a happy ending, of course."

Sable's favorite authors are Maya Banks (Sable loves the Colters and would trade places with one of Maya's heroines any day); Sara McCarty, especially the Hell's Eight and the Promise series; Lorelei James ("I love the continuing saga of the McKay clan," she told me. "The sex is raunchy, but the emotion is on high gear!")

"Sara's books are historical erotic westerns and are absolutely luscious!" she said. "When one of my readers described my sex scenes as luscious - I told them I had been inspired by Sara McCarty!"

When Sable is writing, she has three criteria she uses to judge her own work. First, her erotic fiction has to rope the reader in.

"One reader told me that a scene in my story made her feel like she was watching the couple from the bushes. I laughed at her comment, but I understood - she felt like she was there - and that is what I'm after," Sable explained. "Second - I want my stories to either make me laugh out loud or tear-up. They can't always do both - but, when they do - I feel like I've succeeded. Third - my love scenes have to turn me on. If they don't make me hot, they're not going to do it for anybody else. I've been told that my sex scenes make women hunt their husbands down and drag them to the bedroom. I took that as a compliment."

"What are the biggest public misconceptions about erotica?" I asked.

"I classify my stories as erotic romance - but erotic is the key word. There is enough worry and trouble in this world - we all need to be able to find some joy and happiness in our day to day life. I want my books to bring romance, joy - and yes - sexual stimulation to my readers," Sable responded. "Erotica is a wonderful genre. I have heard people talk down their noses about erotica and romantic erotica - that's a crock - these same people read it every chance they get - they're just too puritanical to admit it. Those of us who openly and loudly proclaim the joys of erotica and romantic erotica have fuller, richer and more satisfying lives!!!!

Erotica is not dirty. Sex is not dirty. As my hero Tyler Landon said in Heart in Chains, 'Sex is the grandest, most wonderful thing in the whole world!'"

Sable told me that her husband would like her to tell me that she does all her research in the bedroom (and it's true that she does a lot of it there). She also, however, watches Cinemax and, especially, Cinemax After Dark. Some of her favorite shows to watch for inspiration include Zane's Sex Chronicles, Life on Top, and .

"My God, there was a scene on Lingerie the other night - it was a ménage between the photographer Jason (the hunky, hot, gorgeous, inspiring Michael Scratch) and two women," she said. "I tell you honestly, I nearly wore my DVR out! You can believe I took explicit notes during that scene. Another resource I have used is the internet, of course. But, my main source of research is my wild, fertile, vast, sorta-dirty imagination."

We talked about the boundary between porn and erotic romance.

Sable has ventured into BDSM, has a ménage coming out soon, and has hinted at anal play. She said that she's not into cruelty in any way and that bestiality, unless it's part of a shifter romance, will never be included in any of her books.

"There are some kinks and fetishes that don't do it for me - like golden showers and foot obsessions," she told me. "Altogether, I'm pretty open. And I would never write a story that didn't end with the couple getting together, which is probably the clearest boundary for me."

She actually started out writing straight romance. She found it totally unsatisfying.

"I hated to send those two love birds behind the bedroom door and leave me standing on the other side. I wanted to see what was going on! Heck, I wanted to feel what was going on," she explained. "So, finally I opened the door - walked in - sat down with my notepad and took copious notes. They didn't mind a bit!"

And, what does her family think?

Her husband doesn't read a lot of it, because he wants more pictures and illustrations.

"Typical man," she said. "His best friend, however - a GUY - loves my books. HE constantly asks my husband where I am on a book and when it's coming out and what I'm writing about. He's my biggest fan! He takes my books to an oil rig and passes them around. I have a fan club of these big, tough he-men out there somewhere."

Her grandmother and great-aunt, who are both in their 90s, read her books and fans themselves. Her younger brother, in college, also reads them and passes them out to his female friends.

On a personal note, if Sable could be anyone, it would be one of her own cats.

"There has never existed a more spoiled, loved, lazy, well-fed, hedonistic group in the world! When you die - if you're good - you come back as a beloved pet!" she said. "Now, that's the life! Of course, my luck - my owner would get me fixed and there would go my sex life. Rats!"

If she were going to pierce a body part, it would be her navel because she thinks it's super-hot to see a little cold ring shining over a low cut pair of blue jeans. She also likes to read and write about nipple piercings and clit piercings but admits, "I'm too much of a wienie to ever have those parts done."

The sexiest piercings she's ever read about, however (and she does plan on writing into her books someday) is penis piercings and how great they feel to the girl as they drag over her sensitive parts.

"Lord have mercy!" she exclaimed.

Her favorite food is gumbo, which isn't surprising since she's originally from New Orleans. And, she can tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi.

"It's the same difference that there is between straight romance and romantic erotica," she explained. "Pepsi is sweet - like straight romance. Coke is sweet, but it has a bite - like erotic romance."

Sable's strangest habit is announcing "Well, I'm glad that's over with" every time she finishes a project or comes back from an event.

"My husband put that saying on my cell phone and says he's going to put it on my tombstone," she told me.

When she's not writing, she loves to read, cook, and she also ghost hunts.

"Yeah, that's right. I'm right up there with TAPS - digital cameras, video equipment, digital recorders - emf detectors - BOY COULD I SHOW YOU SOME WILD PHOTOGRAPHS!" she asserted.

Finally, I asked her what advice she would give to someone who wanted to write erotica.

"My advice - do it! First, you need a great story as well as some ideas for a hot scene. You ought to be able to pull out the sex scenes and still have a great book! But, the sex scenes, for me are critical. There are some guidelines that I use for myself:

"A - Refrain from making it all description of the act. It's best if you work in the emotion. Tell what the heroine and hero are thinking and how the sex is making them feel - guilty, committed, falling in love, desperate to forge a bond - let the reader know how the sex act is affecting not only the plotline, but also the character's emotions.

"B - Also, tell the sex scene from both points of few - his and hers. Men and women look at, feel, and respond to sex differently and that makes the story that much more intriguing.

"And C - include dialogue in the sex scenes. I love it when I get feedback during lovemaking. Tell me when something feels good. Tell me how much you want me. Groan. Moan. Scream. Beg. It's all HOT!"

You can keep up with Sable on Twitter, http://twitter.com/huntersable

Friday, February 18, 2011

Friday Spotlight: Kiki Howell


Outside of Writing, Do I have A Life?

Sort of, when I can find the time. First and foremost comes my family.  Taking care of my home, my husband and my sons is very important to me. Although don’t ask them about all the times I have offered them cereal for dinner because I was writing or about how dirty the house sometimes gets. Although, I have two boys in middle school and two dogs, so a messy house is a given no matter how much time I invest into it. Just saying.

But, outside of the things that occupy most of my time, my family and my writing, what else do I love to do other than sleep? What would I do more of if I could only figure out how to forgo sleep altogether? Well, I would bake more. Maybe that wouldn’t be a good thing because I have more success baking a multi-layer chocolate cake filled with espresso mousse and covered with an espresso ganache than I do cooking a meat and potatoes meal. It has been years since I have made that cake though. The recipe I noticed the other day is yellowing. :-)

I would also knit more. I do a little knitting now just as therapy. The clicking of the needles, a different creative outlet, soothes me. My favorite item of clothing is sweaters, and I would love to actually finish one for myself someday! Right now I am lucky to have made the scarves and shawls, wine cozies and bookmarks I have as gifts.

I would also draw. I have been sketching since I was a kid. Again, this comes back to the soothing sound of a pencil scratching along paper, and having that different creative outlet. Currently, only every few months does the need get strong enough to make me whip out the sketch pad.

Then there are the other things I bet we all wish we had time for, more time with family playing games, more time with friends having coffee or lunch, more time to read, more time to watch movies…