Last Flight of the Ark

   

Last Flight of the Ark available HERE

By D.L. Jackson

   Today I am re-releasing my popular novel, Last Flight of the Ark.

   When Earth outgrows its resources, mankind looks to other worlds to sustain them. In Last Flight of the Ark, Colonel Kaleb Titan flies to a new world, to colonize the planet with plants and animals from Earth. But what he doesn’t expect is to face an alien enemy that has already laid claim to the planet he’s been sent to make habitable for mankind.

   What would you do to save the lives of two thousand, when the enemy who stands against you is faster, stronger and more intelligent? Would you break the law and face execution? Would you employ biological warfare against your own, condemning them to exile, not knowing if what you do can ever be reversed? What is the cost of living, and does one species have any more right to exist than another in the universe? Is there a price you wouldn’t pay? These are the questions Kaleb Titan, my hero in Last Flight of the Ark, faces.

   Now, throw in a wolf-human mutation and all the emotional and physical complications that come along with it, add an enemy that is higher on the food-chain and desperate to save their dying species, and you have the premise behind this story of love, human grit and mortal choices.

   When I first wrote Last Flight of the Ark, I wanted a hero that had to make some possibly immoral choices—if you will, decide between the worst of two evils. But can he do it? Can he choose to wipe out an entire alien civilization to save two thousand of his own?

   Blurb: 

Evolution never happened so fast.  

   Twelve hours outside of Terra II, Colonel Kaleb Titan, a molecular geneticist and commander of the Ark faces a life or death choice that could change the fate of mankind.

   The Genesis I, aka the Ark, travels with a hold full of wildlife and three crew members. When a wolf bite and genetically-altering gamma radiation transform Kaleb, he notices his senses have been heightened, his libido has gone haywire and he can’t keep his hands off his crew. Worse yet, they don't seem inclined to stop him.

   When their sister ship, the Genesis II arrives early, Kaleb’s problems compound. As soon as the command crew of the Genesis II boards, one whiff tells Kaleb they’re not from Earth or who they appear to be.

   When he discovers that they’ve kept the Genesis II’s crew of over two thousand alive, he begins to believe their reasons may be far more ominous than anyone could have imagined. However, he also discovers what’s holding them back. The hijackers seem to be allergic to canines.

   Now they're forced to employ biological warfare against their own, but will it be enough to save humanity?

   History is about to repeat and only one species will survive.

Excerpt:

“Barometric pressure?” 

“Stable.” Jessica’s voice crackled back through the com. 

“Radiation?” 

“Within normal parameters.” 

“Surface temperature in sector three?” 

“A balmy eighty-seven. Terra II is primed and ready. We should arrive within twelve hours. All the readings from the meteorological remote say it’s stable. No surprises.” 

There should be no surprises; they’d been through the numbers four times. 

“Good. That should do it. Why don’t you call it a night?” 

Melissa would relieve him soon, until then…. Colonel Kaleb Titan stretched and reclined. He threw his feet up on the instrument panel and yawned. Melissa would have a fit if she saw them on her baby’s console, but he really didn’t care. He wouldn’t be on this bucket of rust much longer. 

All he wanted to do was sit back and take it all in from the best seat in the house. They were close enough he should be able to see Terra II with the naked eye and he’d been waiting all night for the chance. She’d look more like a star from the distance, but that didn’t matter. Novae, the equivalent of Earth’s sun, would be illuminating the sector on the surface that contained their home—right about now. He had to see it. To date, he’d only viewed pictures of Terra II, sent by a satellite that monitored the world. 

Eight months. He’d worked so hard for this moment, and all his dreams were about to materialize. It couldn’t get any better than this. Well, maybe. He could use a cold beer and a slice of pizza. He flipped a switch and opened the visor, ready to soak in the view of his new home. 

Kaleb’s eyes widened. “Ah, shit.” His feet hit the deck with a thump. He’d been too busy going over the damned reports from the surface of Terra II to notice. He punched his com and paged Jessica, hoping she hadn’t left the lab yet. 

“Sir?” 

No, she’d lingered, perhaps feeling as restless and unable to sleep as he had. 

“What the fuck is that?” He leaned forward. A purple cloud spread before them. Electrical sparks danced like fireflies through the mass. “You got a reading on that?” 

“A reading on what, sir?” Jessica said.

So I hope you’ll join me in celebrating the re-release of one of my favorite novels, and discover what choice Kaleb Titan makes. For buy links, please stop by my website http://www.authordljackson.com. I’ll be updating it as the novel releases.

Thanks for visiting,

D. L. Jackson

Boot Camp has Begun...Courtesan style!

 I’m celebrating my third release in June with Decadent Publishing. This time it’s my Elatian story, Courtesan Boot Camp. I’m giving away some goodies. One lucky commenter will win a signed, large or extra large tee shirt with the book cover for Rebel Souls on the front. I’ll also be giving away a set of romance trading cards to another commenter. This set includes: Seducing Liberty, Rebel Souls, This Endris Night and Courtesan Boot Camp. The last item up for grabs is an e-copy any one of my Decadent Publishing titles, not including my newest release, Courtesan Boot Camp. They are, Cinderella Wore Combat Boots, This Endris Night, Seducing Liberty, Carnal Desires, Carnal Attraction, Carnal Denial, Rebel Souls and My Boogie Woogie Bugle Guy. So, be sure to leave a comment at the end of this post, including a contact email, so your name is dropped in my virtual hat, and good luck.

  

And courtesan boot camp starts now. 

When Shay lands on Elatia, she knows she has one shot to be chosen as courtesan for a king and queen. Mess up—everything she was born to be, all she’s trained her entire life to become—will be lost. The alternative is unthinkable.

What a pampered priss. 

Dayne’s first impression isn’t a good one, but he’s determined to turn the spoiled beauty into the next royal courtesan at any cost. As a Dominus, a master of all things sexual, he agrees to help a friend, his sovereign, and promises to do nothing to compromise her future.

Except the promise may cause him to question his loyalty, friendship and honor. All he knows is on the line…when he falls in love with a woman who can never be his.

While writing this story, I wanted a heroine who was not only challenged by the hero, but challenged by who she believed herself to be. I wanted her to face sacrifice, and I wanted her to struggle with letting go of what was comfortable. We have all been in this position at one time or another, when we’re forced to change and open our eyes to other possibilities. It could be something as simple as leaving home for college, or harder like quitting a job we hate. Maybe we’ve taken a step to get out of a toxic relationship. Whatever form it comes in, change is never easy. In Courtesan Boot Camp, my heroine finds her strength and courage tested when she’s taken out of her comfort zone and thrust into an unfamiliar setting.

Eight weeks of Army Basic stuck with me as I wrote this story. No, I didn’t have a hunky Dominus, or a pleasure planet to train on like Shay, but I was taken and thrust into another world, both frightening and exhilarating. I cried. I laughed. I celebrated. I encountered stress unlike anything I’d experienced before, and the challenges at times seemed insurmountable. The training was about self-discovery and uncovering the warrior inside.

For Shay, it was no different. She needed to learn about a different battleground and how to survive. In Courtesan Boot Camp, Shay has six weeks before the final selection and four other women stand in her way. If she fails, all she has trained her entire life to become will be lost. There is no other option.

Or is there?

What happens if your future has been plotted out before conception, and you’re not sure it’s right for you? What if the only life you know is the one you were created for and all you have trained to be? What if you don’t know how to be anything else? Could you walk away and leave the familiar behind to step into the unknown? For twenty-three years Shay has trained to become the Ruellan Courtesan. If she succeeds, she will have the love of a king and queen, and fame throughout the galaxy. She will have wealth and see sights many could only dream of.

Yet with all the wonderful facets to being chosen, something is missing, and she doesn’t realize the hole is there until she lands on Elatia. When Shay meets Dayne, the Elatian Dominus hired to train her for the final selection, she knows she need look no further to find what she wants, but can she open his eyes and win his heart before the selection in six weeks? Now the student must seduce the master and time is running out.

Enter the world of a courtesan from another galaxy and discover if her future is written in the stars, or nothing more than a planned destiny she cannot escape. Visit me at http://authordljackson.com to read an excerpt of this story of finding true love, wherever it may be.

Buy Link for Decadent Publishingtitles by D L Jackson

Thanks to all for stopping by. Don’t forget to leave a comment for a chance to win one of the prizes mentioned above.

Best,

D L Jackson

Writer’s Limbo

By D.L. Jackson

I'm kind of at that in-between stage of wanting to write, and wanting to take a break from it. I usually will burn through several MS before I just can't focus, and finally throw my arms up and walk away for two or three weeks.

Often during that time I will go on a reading binge. This time, I’m unable to sit and read. Too much to do. My baby graduates next week and I have to set up for a big party. My granddaughter turns two and is coming up. I have to set up for a party for her too. I have to finish painting the house, which is also the way I hurt my knee. I was warned to stay off the ladder while on vacation, but did I listen? No. Too much to do, and I was feeling restless. To complicate things, I have to stay off my leg as much as possible, wear this ridiculous brace and keep it iced. The doctor says if I’m good, I won’t have to have surgery.

Sitting is a skill I need to work on. So in order to do as told. I grabbed my laptop, Chinese language CDs, icepack and psyched myself up to write. Should be easy. Right? What is it about being laid up that makes it hard to pull stories together? For once in my life I have an excuse to sit on my ass and do nothing but write, and I can’t.

I have multiple stories I want to work on, all at various stages and I start on one, only to find myself staring at the text, thinking about anything but what I'm writing. I’m waiting for a galley for a June 27th release, so until then.... Goes back to check email. No galley.

Off the icepack goes and I head outside. This is only after I nag my husband for over an hour to help me with planting some fruit trees that came in the mail. Bitching and snarling, he follows, because yes, he loves me that much.

With my bum knee, I couldn’t dig the hole, and I had to get them in the ground. So he drags the shovel and trees all over the yard until I find just the right spot. I've never heard such grumbling. He dug these little bitty holes. No manure or compost. *sighs* I tried to explain the need to go shopping for the good stuff, as my compost pile hasn’t broken down enough. He didn't buy the five dollar tree--ten dollar hole, theory. Looks like I'll be digging them back up and fixing myself when the knee starts to cooperate. At least the bare root trees are in the ground and I don’t have to worry about them.

So I paint my front doors red. It’s something I’ve been meaning to do for a couple months. Mistake. They have muttons. The muttons don’t come off without the glass and the inside of said muttons is white and hollow. Red paint has leaked under where I so carefully taped it off. It looks so bad I want to cry. So now I have half painted doors that need to go back to being white.

With one task complete and another I didn’t want to make worse, I still felt restless. Then I remembered my husband’s new riding lawn mower, shiny and green, sitting in the shed all lonely and neglected. Have I ever told you green is my favorite color, well next to red, it is.

The first commandment of the tool shed god: Thou shalt not touch the John Deere. This is also followed by; thou shalt not touch the power saw, cordless drills or tool box. Thou can however, operate the push mower, shovel and rake. And the kitchen bitch says thou can operate a washcloth and dish soap. Snort.

Sheesh, he had a turkey. What happened to what's mine is yours, and what's yours is mine? He reverted to a three year-old and started spouting mine, mine, mine. Needless to say, I was kicked off the John Deere. He's just lucky I'm a gimp right now. *Eyeing gas can and waiting for opportunity to race said forbidden John Deere around the lawn.* You have to sleep sometime husband of mine, and it does have a headlight! Wonder if the John Deere takes jet fuel. I mean, the racing cars do. Right?

Then I went and worked on my flower gardens. Except, I already tended them and they look good. Really good. Got out the craft paint and touched up one of my gnomes. Then I lopped a few roses back, for the sake of doing something. Went inside, typed a sentence on a story, and got distracted by solitaire. Played enough to know, I suck and just shouldn't. Read a novella, went back outside to inspect the gardens. Knee swelled up. Back inside to ice it. One more sentence.

Solitaire!

Gah. This game is not for me.

Then I hear sheep. No, not a solitary “baa” but more like a chorus line of “baas”. The fence across the road did not hold them and those baas are coming from my yard, and my perfectly tended flower gardens. Up I jump, limping out into the yard like a mad woman. They pay the gimp little notice, so I grab a rolled up newspaper and chase them out of the flowers. They divide and flank me. Back into the flowers. I circle around hollering. My husband comes out and begins to laugh. “Get them out of my yard!”

“Ahoy, matie.”

Okay, this brace does make me walk like a pirate, but really? Really? You’re just getting even because I made you help me plant the trees!

He goes back inside. Oh you did not! Just as I charge for the door, the farmer comes along with his bucket of grain. The sheep leave following him like the Pied Piper of mutton. Disgusted with the chewed flowers and non-helpful husband, I go back inside.

Glare at husband.

“What?”

“You could have helped me.”

“You were doing fine.”

Solitaire!

I plug in my headphones and pop in a Chinese speaking CD. I now know how to say,”I’d like a drink.”

I’d really like a drink. Wa shung, hua e-dee-r dom she! Make it a double.

Bah, I suck at this game—and for all I know; I just said something really naughty in Chinese.

So here I am.

Think I'm ready for down time before the next release on June 27th. But what to do on that down time??? *Glances out window and eyes John Deer.* “Shiver me timbers. I see an unmanned vessel in need of a captain.”

Arrrrrr! Batten down the hatches.

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I am an Evil Author! Hear Me Roar!

                                      

 by D.L. Jackson

So, I recently had my mid-year review at my nine-to-five. Now at work, it’s not a secret what I write. I laid it out on the table by giving my bosses each a copy of one of my books when I was first published. So when asked to comment on what I think the department did right and what they could do better, that evil author inside me came to the forefront like Mr. Hyde.

The first thing my boss mentioned in the review:  “I should have known better than to ask an author for her opinion.” As we went through the novel I’d pinned for my review, my boss just shook his head and laughed. “I guess you have a lot to say. You don’t go easy on anything do you?”

No. No, I don’t.

So, if you have read one of my books, it shouldn’t surprise you if I told you I am an evil author.*insert maniacal laugh* It’s the simple pleasures....

What’s an evil author?

Well, we tend to inflict pain. We love torture and we are literary sadists. Simply put, I’m a mean girl to my characters. Ah, the author giveth and the author yanks it out from under their character’s feet and causes grievous bodily injury.

I was once asked if I could be a character in one of my books, which book would I want to be in and which character? Um, yeah, about that. My answer: “No.”

To which the interviewer scratched their head and said. “It wasn’t a yes or no answer.”

“Let’s try no way in hell, then.” I then began to elaborate on the things I put my characters through and why only an insane person would want to go through that. By the end of the interview, the interviewee was in agreement.

You see, I’m all about high stakes and long, hard falls. I firmly believe in the law of gravity: What goes up, must come down. Only my law goes something like this: What goes up, must come crashing to Earth in a ball of fire, scorching miles upon impact.

Um, that’s another thing I like to do. I love to cleave a path of destruction, blow things up, vaporize them. Uh, maybe I better get back to the post. My muse is getting all excited.

Now where was I?

Ah, yes. Evil author. When one of my critters tells me I made her cry, I smile and tell her I’ll have to try harder. Now, being evil doesn’t mean you’re headed for a sad ending. Not so. I do believe in riding off into that sunset, or starset, in this case.

With all my romances, no matter how brutal the journey, I promise you all they suffer, will be worth it. In the end, things work out. My characters have a chance to grasp that happily ever after and it’s all the sweeter. I just never claimed the journey getting there would be easy. For me it never is. So why should I take it easy on them? Slackers!

I hope you’ll check out my newest release and all the evil awesomeness I’ve rained down upon my trio, Ava, Seth and Brodie. This is not a ménage, but a love triangle, and in the end, only one guy gets the girl. But hey, that’s what sequels are for. Right? Here’s a little excerpt to wet your whistle.

Excerpt:  Rebel Souls

      Okay, maybe he should have let her shoot him. Seth yanked on the cuffs that linked him to the solid iron headboard. The last thing he was inclined to do was explain to anyone how he’d found himself cuffed to the damned bed, his pants down around his knees, with his ball-sack glued to his thigh by dried cum. And when he didn’t contact his ship for his nightly check-in, they’d come looking. Whoo-hoo for protocol and bio-tags.

      The League despised bad publicity. If anyone guessed the activities he’d been engaged in…. Yeah, and like this didn’t say it all, no guessing needed. He eyed his com, only inches from the headboard where she’d set it after calling for a shuttle. He wasn’t flexible enough to get his foot up to push it into reach. His pants bound his legs together, making it twice the challenge. Add the cuffs that kept him from reaching his com, and he wasn’t going anywhere, not until someone freed him.

      Idiot. Why the hell did he forget who he was dealing with? Of course, the oral sex had been a distraction, one gigantic, orgasmic distraction. He should have seen this coming and he’d gotten what he deserved for thinking from below his beltline.

Never again.

He glanced at his com. Think. How can you get it? Rock the bed? No, bolted to the floor. Yell for help? With the party going on outside on the street, doubtful anyone would hear him, and did he really want them to see this? Yes. Better than his subordinates. His crew couldn’t, wouldn’t see him like this. He opened his mouth to yell at the top of his lungs.

Beep, beep, beep. Seth turned his head and eyed his com. Fantastic. For once, they were ahead of schedule. When he got free, he’d find her. And when he did….

Thanks for stopping by. Leave a comment for a chance to win an e-copy of Rebel Souls. I pick one random name from my virtual hat.

Have a great day!

D L

My Boogie Woogie Bugle Guy

by D.L. Jackson

So, I’ve written another 1Night Stand story, and I’m dying to talk about it. It all started about a month and a half ago, when my son enlisted in the Army as a combat medic. A conversation on the loop about heroes in the military brought the muse to life. One comment about the Color Guard had me thinking about different kinds of heroes you don’t hear about often.

Sure when you think military romance, you think Recon, SEAL, Special Forces or any of the glorious and dangerous jobs that seem so sexy. But being an Army vet, I know there are a lot of silent heroes you don’t hear a lot about, who can be just as sexy. You don’t hear a lot about the combat medics, or the EOD, or even the solemn trumpet player who plays Taps for a hero who gave all.

Originally a call for lights out, Taps became an official send off for soldiers who lost their lives in service to their country during the Civil War. Union General Daniel Adams Butterfield, after the Seven Days War and a loss of 600 men, called the brigade bugler to his tent and changed the French “Lights Out” call to what we know today as a way to honor his men. That night it played across the battlefield. The next day, buglers from all across the division came to ask for copies of the music. And though there are no “official” lyrics to the song, these are the ones most used.

Taps

Fading light dims the sight,
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright.
From afar drawing nigh -- Falls the night.

Day is done, gone the sun,
From the lake, from the hills, from the sky;
All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.

Then good night, peaceful night,
Till the light of the dawn shineth bright;
God is near, do not fear -- Friend, good night.

~Author unknown

Now to add to my story further, I have to tell you inspiration didn’t just come from the conversation. To further fuel my creative fire, I have a bagpipe player that lives somewhere down the road. At night I often sit out on my porch and listen to him play, the haunting melody has inspired many a romance. But not just the bag pipes, he also plays the trumpet. The songs carry across the rolling hills and through the woods, and for a few bars, the world goes silent just to listen. It’s incredibly beautiful.

In the morning at O six hundred, he plays Reveille, and at night he plays Taps at 2200 hours. I’ve recently discovered that this music isn’t played to entertain. The man responsible, an old Army Chaplain who rides a Harley, plays for hero’s funerals all over the state I live in. He plays the bag pipes for firemen and police, the trumpet for military. The songs he plays at night are to honor fallen heroes.

 In the morning—well, that just his way of telling us it’s time to start the day. And to be honest, it brings back memories that make me smile. I don’t mind being told to get up, it’s more entertaining than that annoying rooster down the road that won’t shut up.

So now you know the inspiration for My Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, and on June 1st, you can read the story about a different kind of hero. My hopes are you will feel the spirit of the inspiration behind the story.

Blurb:

When Grace Daniels goes to the cemetery to visit her twin brother, she meets a soldier, there for the same reason, or at least that’s what she believes until he tells her about the blind date her brother arranged before he was killed in combat.

It’s the date of her dreams. Big band, brass and sass, Madame Eve from 1NightStand has set her up for an unforgettable night, a WWII swing dance party. Unfortunately she’s having trouble letting go of her past and is afraid to take the chance given to her.

Sergeant Frank Winters is an Army trumpet player who travels with the Color Guard, a great dancer and six feet four inches of eye candy that could make her an addict. He’s also a soldier and soldiers can get killed. Grace doesn’t have the heart to lose someone again, but Frank knows a good thing when he sees it and he’s determined to show her in one night, she’s got more to lose if she walks away.

Now, that being said, please Google, “the real Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy” and learn about the hero behind the Andrews Sisters’s song. His name was Bill Arter. 

Thanks for stopping by.

What's the Difference?

by D.L. Jackson

Recently I was gathered together with a group of women while we sent the guys over to another house to watch MMA title fights. Now, being a black belt recommend in mixed martial arts, I wanted to go, but it was a no chicks, guy thing, and I wasn’t allowed. So, I hung with the girls, watched movies and chatted.

One of the ladies I met talked about a reading club she belongs to. I pulled out my phone, brought up my website and handed it to her. I said, “I’m an author. What are you reading?” She leans in and whispers, “erotica.” And then she blushes.

Booyah! You’re talking my language. “I write erotic romance and erotica.”

Then she asks what’s the difference. Ah, I say. You just might be surprised. There’s a very thin line, and often readers are reading erotic romance and don’t know it.

Now this isn’t the first time I’ve had someone react like erotic romance is the dirty little secret of the publishing world. I’ve had a woman in Barnes and Noble reply to my question, “where is the erotic?” by saying, “the slut books?” Usually the first reaction I get when someone finds out I’m an author is they ask what it is I write. When I tell them, they often blink and say, “oh, well I like so-and-so”, and spout out the name of some well known author they are reading, thinking it sounds “safe”, something a good girl would read. Nothing they wouldn’t be caught dead buying in the bookstore.

Uh, huh.

The next reaction I usually get, because ninety percent of the time what they are reading is erotic romance, goes something like this, “but they are a New York Times best seller. It’s romance.”

And so is erotic romance. It is romance. So what’s the difference? What makes romance erotic, or not. I think the first thing that makes it erotic is that the language is explicit. We call the body parts what they are, and we are not afraid to talk a little dirty. Seen any of that in the book you picked up in the supermarket lately? Yes? I’m not surprised.

The second thing that makes it erotic romance, is that the sex is an important part of the story.  The tension, the building desires and lust all lead to a big bang. Or multiple bangs. Sound familiar?

Ah. So, you’ve been reading erotic romance and you didn’t know it. Now there are definitely different degrees of heat you will find in romance and not all is erotic in nature, but the current trend is sexier, hotter books, with snarky heroines who often know what they want and go after it. They experiment and yes, sometimes talk dirty.

So, here are the different kinds of romance.

Sweet romance: Close the door. Sometimes the hero and heroine never consummate that relationship, and if they do, it will most likely not happen before they’re married. You will often see this in YA (young adult) books and Christian Romance. Happy ever afters are a must.

Romance: Hero and heroine are headed to bed somewhere in the story. Sometimes they’re married when they consummate, sometimes not. When they roll around in the sheets, the big scene doesn’t usually happen until around page 300 or so (don’t ask me why, but that’s usually where I see it). When it does happen, sometimes the author shuts the door, sometimes you see a little of what they are doing, but the scenes are not explicit, nor is the language. Happy ever afters are a must.

Erotic romance: This is the most common romance out there. And though you don’t think you’ve read it, you very well might have. Now erotic romance can have different degrees of heat, leaning toward romance, or the other way, erotica. You know the couple is going to get it on, and a lot of the time, it happens in the first chapter. You feel sexual tension from page one and throughout the story. Multiple sex scenes with descriptive sex, but not necessarily in every chapter. The sex isn’t the plot, but it is important to the story, and if it happens, it happens for a reason. The story could be paranormal, science fiction, contemporary, and about any sub-genre you can think of. A lot of the time there is a hero and a heroine, but it’s not exclusive. There may be ménage, male on male, female on female. Because this is romance and not erotica, once the hero(es) and heroine(s) get together, they are usually monogamous, even if they are a threesome. Happy ever afters, or at least happy for nows, are a must.

Erotica: The plot is the sex, but it often follows a storyline. Again, it can be any sub-genre you can think of. But the thing to remember is that the story is about the couple, or couples, or multiples coming together sexually. Almost every chapter will have hot, descriptive sex. The heroine or hero may have sex with others, but I find once they get together, they tend toward monogamy (in most the erotica I’ve read). Just about anything goes (except the usual no-no’s). Voyeurism, bondage, multiples. You will always see explicit sex, and graphic language. The plot is often based on sexual fantasies, i.e., seducing the boss, nailing the mailman, being the only man in an all female orgy. It is not Porn. Porn does not have a plot. Happy for now is usually a must, but not required.

Porn: Graphic detailed sex that spontaneously happens, and usually has no storyline. The sex is there for the purpose of titillation. The hero and heroine are there for one reason—to f*%k. It consists of graphic sex scenes, and language. Chicky-bah-wah. The plumber comes in, nails the bored housewife while the husband watches, story over.

So, up for some erotic romance? Go ahead, give it a try. You might be surprised you’ve already been reading it. Tell me what your favorite erotic romances are. What sub-genre do you like most?

I’m going to give away a copy of Seducing Liberty, a Decadent 1Night Stand, and yes, it’s erotic romance. All you have to do to get in on a chance to win, is leave a comment. 

 

by D.L. Jackson

*Pokes head in door and adjusts big cone-shaped hat.* Excusest me kind Sirs and ladies. Wouldest thou pointest me in the direction of a guild of fantasy and paranormal scribes?

*Stares for a second.* Wouldest thou have seen them? They art...
A little help here. *Sighs.* Has anyone seen a group of Fantasy writers? Anyone? Hello? Demon looking for Fantasy writers. D L told me this was the place. Just wait till I get my claws into her.

 *Grabs long hair and begins to pull it through door. Hair pulls back.* Fred! Let go. *Braces foot on door jamb.* Listen you over grown lizard, let go before I sell you to the local fried chicken restaurant and they roll you in herbs and spices, and stuff your ass in a bucket. *Wig slips off head and disappears through door.*

*BURP*

Can you believe it? That wig is gonna cost me, and I can’t begin to imagine the hairball he’s going to puke up. Godiva isn’t pretty the second time around, and those costume wigs are not cheap. It was a rental. Opens purse and glances in. Wonder if they take Hell Express? I never leave home without it. You never know when a pair of shoes are going to call your name.

Oh, where was I...?

Yeah, Fred. He’ll eat anything. You really have to keep your eye on him. I’ve been having a hard time getting my mail lately. The mail carriers keep disappearing. It’s a good thing he’s not into ‘fine dining’ or the bike couriers would be gone too. Have you gotten a look at them? There’s a lot to be said for men that bike all day. *fans self*

Then there was Mrs. Sneider’s Bichon Frise, he burped up hairballs for a week. She called the animal control officer on me. Have you ever tried to explain how your twenty-foot dragon got out of the yard and ate fluffy? And of course, she accused Fred of leaving the yard muffins all over her front lawn too. Something about flaming piles of... *Snort* I told her it was fluffy. Fred uses her rose garden in the back yard. Besides, I really don’t know how that gate got open.

*Shrugs and examines nails.*

Flipping dragons! You can’t live with them and they make too large a meal for one. Well, I can see I’m a little overdressed. You could have told me we weren’t doing the whole role-playing thing. And to think I went out of my way to do the Mid-Evil wench thingie. See this corset. Do you have any idea how tight you have to yank the stays to get the pumpkins up to your chin? Never mind. *Snaps fingers and changes to stilettos, and three-piece suit. Sits on desk and crosses legs.* That’s better. From the look of it, it was going to be hard to find someone here that would climb up my hair and rescue me anyway.

Hi, my name is Bunny. I’m a demon. *Holds finger up in the air.* Wait, I know. *Claps hands and massive tome drops on desk. Flips it open.* Dwarfish, no. Goblin...ish? *Glances up.* Hmmm. Maybe. Fairy? I know, I know. It’s not fffffairy. It’s Sidhe, or Fae. Pixies. Whatever. A fairy is a fairy and they all have attitudes. Little bastards. Have you ever seen Tinkerbell when she has PMS? TinkerHell is more like it.

*Flips page.* Wait, wait, wait. Here it is... *Clears throat.* Work with me, okay. I am multi-lingual, but slayer isn’t one of my languages. I am fluent in Southern Sucubi, though. It’s the same as Northern, just less suck. *Glances around silent room.* That was a joke. I wasn’t serious. Lighten up, would you?

Get thee back, Satan. Put your hands up and drop to your knees. No wait. Disregard that last bit. I think can from an episode of COPs. *scans pages* You have the right...

Where in heaven’s gate did that copy of the Miranda Rights come from? *Snaps book shut.* Never mind. I know. Ever play good cop, bad cop?

*Blinks eyes and stares at silent crowd.*

Okay...I see we’re a lively bunch today. They have something for that, you know. It’s called Viagr...vitamins.

Hey, put that broken beer bottle down. Yes, you in the back. *Narrows eyes* The skinny chick in the yellow...Beer wench? Hi, Liz. How’s Hans doing? *Laughs.* Oh that was a hell of a night, wasn’t it? Don’t worry, girl. Your secret’s safe with me. Anyone that knows me knows you can trust Bunny. Honestly. *pulls out a scroll* Just sign your name here on this contract and I won’t say a word. Souls are really overrated, you know.

No? *Rolls scroll up* We’ll talk later. I hear you like to negotiate, got a whole series on real estate agents, don’t you? *Eyes flare red*

Oh where was I...? Broken beer bottle. Yes. Fred’s going to have an early lunch if you don’t behave. He enjoys take-out now and again. Yeah, I know. Fast food is bad for you, clogs the arteries, but, *leans closer,* you don’t look all that fast. Still a little sluggish from one of those beer festivals you’re always traipsing around, I’ll bet. Mmmm, McWriter. A little sweet and sour sauce, maybe some beer batter and...

  Oh, there I go again, getting off topic.

  As I was saying. I’m Bunny and I’m a demon. Don’t say it, your really don’t want too. I’ll stick you with my pitchfork and roast you till crispy. Just because I look all cute, uh sexy with this tail and horns, doesn’t mean I can’t do damage. I’m the original Femme Fatale. I'm not overly fond of carrots either. Chocolate will do. I adore cookies, Devil's food cake.... *Sighs* Sorry, I start thinking about chocolate and it's all over.

So, the reason I’m here, D L Jackson has a new series coming out. About... *Lifts hand.* Wait for it...

Demons. Isn’t that just carnal?

Ooooh gets me all hot just thinking about it—not that I’m not, mind you. Now this series of Edge stories take place in a strip club called The Devil’s Den. It’s a great place to meet that someone special. No—really. I recently was out in the neighborhood, taking in the sights and stumbled into the club—quite by accident.

Really. *snorts* I know I’m no angel, but please, do I look like the den of iniquity type? Anyway, what a night. I met this hot Hell Lord. *taps fingers on desk* What was his name? Oh yes, Azael. A completely yummy hunk of incubus. You know what they say, once you go incubus....

*Eyes widen* Oh, dear. You have no clue what I’m talking about, do you. Well, there was this map going around the web that measured certain attributes of men around the world—someone posted it completely for research purposes. *coughs* She shall not be named. Anyway, I noticed the Devil’s Den was on it, and since those tour maps are kind of fun to follow and see where they take you.... Well one thing led to another and the next thing I know, I was in this club, swinging from the poles and having a great time.

Anyway, Azael and I, we really hit it off. After a few phone calls and multiple visits to his place of work, a restraining order, he agreed to go out with me on this date. A pool party.

My neighbor has a lava pool. It’s all the rage. We mingled, drank cocktails, and every now and then, we’d shove a telemarketer, banker or politician in. Don’t look at me like that. *Puts hands on hips.* I’m a demon, not an angel. You should try it sometime. Very liberating. I haven’t had that much fun since the Dark Ages.

*Glances at watch.* Damn. I’m late. I have a fitting for a wedding dress. *Claps hands together.* I can’t wait to see his face. Please don’t say anything if you see him. It’s a surprise and I really don’t want to have to hunt him down if he catches on early. It’s such a pain. Tracking them from work, following them out and harassing anybody they see. Do you know what I mean? It’s so much easier to blindside them before they know what you’re up to. Besides, I left his girlfriend, Jezebel, tied up in the cooler with the beer, and I don’t have all the time in the world. Those succubus think they’re the only ones with it going on. As you can see, she was wrong.

Thanks so much for having me over to visit. Enjoyed the chat. If you want to meet Azael, you can find him in the Devil’s Den. He’s in the Carnality Series: Carnal Desires, Carnal Attraction, and Carnal Denial. And that girlfriend of his...what was her name again?

*Rolls eyes* Not important. Gotta go.

  Ciao.

  *Vanishes in a puff of smoke*