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Weird Dreams and Typos

Hi all!

I'm blogging today over at Three Wicked Writers Plus Two! Please drop by and read all about my weird dreams, typos, and also an excerpt from my latest WIP.

Hope to see you there!

Best,

The Dreaded Edits?

I think all writers come to a point in their career, at least once, but in my case several times, where they wonder: How much further can I go in my craft? Have I reached a point I can’t seem to go beyond, and if I can’t, what happens next? Do I remain at this level and hope my stories entertain anyway?

I have just completed my first round revision of His Beautiful Wench. In the original, Amelia and Emmett were a sweet couple who adored one another and had average sex. My editor, Jilly, asked that I expand the sex scenes—ten of them, oooh la la!—and draw the reader into Amelia and Emmett’s sexual world a little more. I wasn’t sure I could do that. I opened the edits and shook my head, convinced I couldn’t do any more than I’d already done. I wanted to cry. So I left the edits for a week, telling myself I couldn’t do it. Then I asked: Why can’t I? What’s stopping me doing this?

The answer is easy. Lack of self-confidence. I didn’t believe in myself enough.

So I began edits this Monday with a heavy heart, thinking I’d fail miserably. At first, I couldn’t push past the block that has been with me for a while with regard to certain aspects of my writing. But then something happened. I added to the sex scenes, and a new dimension appeared, a new side to Amelia and Emmett that wasn’t there before. They liked to play sex games now, and I just hadn’t realised that before. Over the past four days, I’ve gone back to each scene I added to and added some more, new shifts that surprised me and changed Amelia from a rather clinging female to an outright wanton wench! She now says things she would never have said before. Does things she would never have done. And wow, she’s now a 1800s woman who knows exactly what she wants in the bedroom and strives to get it.

All in all, I’m really pleased with the changes in this book. Even with the cuts I made later on in the story, I’ve written even more, taking the word count well over the original. I’m so pleased with how I learned to add more layers to my sex scenes and bring in more emotion. I’m excited now to apply this new knowledge to my future books.

Thank you, Jilly, for asking me to do this and for having faith, when I didn’t have any, that I could do it.

The Willy Day

I worry whether I’m a prude. But I can’t be. I write ‘rude stuff’. So what was the deal with me the other day when I went blog hopping and happened upon a post showing male full frontals? I jumped back from the screen in shock. You know, my eyes went wide, and that silly little noise escaped, similar to the sound when you let off a little gas in public and didn’t mean to or you turn your ankle in the middle of a crowded street. You know what I mean. A strangled “Whoo!”

Yet I couldn’t resist scrolling down. For research purposes, I’ll have you know. That’s what I told myself anyway. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not against the willy. (I want to giggle because that word is just so stupid.) No, not against it at all. On this particular site the comments were many, with women apparently drooling over the various shapes and sizes and discussing amongst themselves which willy they would like in their lady gardens, which led to me leaving the blog feeling a little disturbed at my reaction. Am I abnormal to not want to gaze at all those men like that? I write about them using explicit words, for God’s sake, so what the hell was my problem? I put it down to me preferring non-visual willies, apart from my DH’s of course, and went along with the rest of my day.

Later, while out jogging with a friend, I mentioned my willy surprise. She slowed a bit as she got her phone out of her pocket. I assumed she was going to call her kids to check on them, but she said, “Oh, I have over 200 on my phone.”

“What, willies?”

“Yep, wanna see?”

“Uh, no,” I said.

“Oh, go on. There’s one I got sent today. Really weird.”

We slowed to a walk. She scrolled through her phone then thrust it in my face. Oh my bloody good God, there in front of me was a wooden willy.

“It’s wooden,” I said.

“No it isn’t. It’s this guy’s real piece. I’ve seen it on webcam.”

Now, how I didn’t faint I don’t know. This was my friend here, someone who had never talked in detail about sex much less admitted she has over 200 cocks on her phone and webcams with guys. Colour me shocked for the second time that day. Thankful I hadn’t let out that silly noise again, I smiled brightly and picked up the pace, hoping there would be no more willies for me that day.

Fate had other ideas. We see many other joggers while we’re out. One particular male gives me the bloody creeps, making me wary of every other male who passes. The Creep stares at us as he approaches and grunts when we’re level. He looks like those guys you see in the newspaper. You know the ones: WANTED! PEEPING TOM! Anyway, it wasn’t The Creep who jogged toward us but some guy we’d never seen before. Tight lycra shorts. Serious about his exercise. And as he neared, I saw he obviously only wore the shorts. As though a child had fashioned a sausage out of Playdoh, this guy’s winkle hung down his leg. Not excessively far, but enough so I could imagine the state of it if he got a little excited. I blushed at having spotted it, because really, I’m not into gawping at other men’s wotsits. He jogged closer—and his sausage expanded.

Now then. That wasn’t my idea of good scenery to jog to. Once again I let out that STUPID bloody noise and upped my pace, averting my eyes from his doodah and focusing ahead. My friend snorted—yep, she’d spotted it too—and we jogged past him as though we hadn’t noticed a damn thing.

At this point we were running down a track in the middle of nowhere, which always frightens me and, with The Creep in mind, I glanced back to make sure Playdoh Dick didn’t turn and follow us. And found him glancing back too.

Oh. My. God. My face heated like no one’s business, and I pushed myself to run faster, praying we wouldn’t see him again. It seemed my day was full of willies and I wanted no part of it. I mused that if DH came on strong when I got home, I’d run away from him screaming. There’s only so much a girl can take, and my God, I’d had enough already!

Three Wicked Writers, Plus Two!

I'm excited to announce I'm now one of the five authors on Three Wicked Writers Plus Two! I'll be blogging every Friday. Oh, I feel all giddy and silly. Please come on over!

New Cave Releases - Desiree Holt, Mari Carr, Catherine Chernow

Jonah Grey, driven by a lust for the blood of the legendary Chupacabra that murdered the woman who was to be his mate, jumps at the offer to leave the FBI and join Night Seekers, who are dedicated to hunting and killing the devil beast.

Then Jonah encounters a woman with whom he shares explosive chemistry that neither can deny—and sex that brings a level of pleasure neither has ever known. Soon he’s dividing his time and indulging in erotic bouts of orgasmic lust with Dakota.

But the devil beast must still be dealt with, and the wolf in Jonah won’t rest until the Chupacabra is dead.

Wild Irish, Book Five

Friday’s child is loving and giving…

Ewan Collins has had the hots for Natalie for years but she continually rebuffs him, supposedly because of their age difference. When Natalie comes to stay with the Collins family for a week, Ewan decides it’s time to make his move in a serious way.

Natalie’s been in a funk since celebrating another birthday alone. When Ewan proposes to help her “get a life”—seven lessons in seven days—she figures, what the hell does she have to lose? Ewan’s plans include tequila shots, fishing, karaoke…and other, more erotic hands-on demonstrations.

But Nat’s loneliness isn’t Ewan’s only obstacle. Tragedy in her past continually takes Natalie to a dark place her mind can’t easily overcome. With support, tenderness and love, Ewan plans to win over Natalie one lesson at a time.

Starting with lessons of the heart.

Sensual. Seductive. Sculptures so erotic they become a white-hot feast for the eyes.

That’s what New York art promoter Sloan Benton sees the day she discovers the talent of sculptor Dallen O’Neal. Dallen’s outrageous style gives Sloan a burning desire to learn more about him and the secret medium he’s using. He’s the sexiest, hottest, most dominant man she’s ever met and the best new talent in town, but she realizes too late that he’s also a painful, forgotten memory from her past.

Dallen O’Neal wants revenge. Sloan Benton crushed his artistic spirit. He couldn’t sculpt anything for years after her cruelty, but his desire for her never waned. When she accepts the invitation to view his work, then his challenge to strip naked for art’s sake, he discovers Sloan’s submissive side. They share wild sex and explore Sloan’s penchant for spankings. Sloan captures his heart, but he thrusts her aside, intent on vengeance.

Jealousy, sex, submission and a hint of exhibitionism mingle together, making Dallen’s need for Sloan…

White-hot and hard.

New Cave Release - India Masters

A standalone story in the Hunters for Hire series.

Anari Fury—daughter, sister, fiancée. Life on Sa-Ro Five is good…until a ruthless pirate spies her. Refusing his advances sets in motion a chain of events that will change her life forever.

Taken from the only home she’s known, Anari is sold as a sex slave. But she possesses a secret that puts her at even greater risk than that posed by the man who uncovers desires she never suspected—a frightening man with opaque gray eyes and a past that could get them both killed.

Duncan Storm is an AWOL super soldier. Conscience drove him from the IMF. Necessity drove him to Bounty Hunters, Inc. But Duncan’s skills are no match for the woman destined to teach him the one thing he’s never known…love.

Together, Duncan and Anari must fight to regain control of a technology capable of providing a better life for millions, or destroying entire worlds. Along the way, both will learn what it means to give their all for the love of another.

New Cave Release - Regina Carlysle

Book two in the Sequins, Saddles and Spurs series.

Lola Lamont leaves Vegas with two pals, never imagining they’d break down in small-town Texas. So what’s a former showgirl to do when she runs smack dab into the hottest sheriff south of the Mason Dixon line? Why, jump his bones, of course!

Sam Campbell takes one look at the Vegas Bombshell and knows damn good and well she belongs in his bed. She probably has the words gold digger tattooed to her ass but he’s ready to take what the sexy blonde has to offer. Vowing to protect his heart, Sam rocks her world. Too bad she’s rocking his right back. Sam is more than ready to handle some sass, spunk and sex, but is he willing to gamble on love?

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: TROUBLE IN A STETSON

Copyright © REGINA CARLYSLE, 2010

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One

Lola Lamont gave her poor old pink Caddy a baleful look through the plate glass windows of Blue Belle’s Café and heaved a giant sigh. Her sweet baby had pretty much bitten the dust and her current companions at the table were right, she needed to be put out of her misery. Lola and her friends, Roxie and Emily, had rolled into the tiny town of Mesa Blanco, Texas with the old monstrosity of a car gasping and wheezing like a two-pack-a-day smoker.

Refugees from Vegas, the three friends had, in a moment of madness, said to hell with it and loaded up for a grand adventure with only pennies in their pockets and the good sense of a trio of pigeons.

What the hell had they been thinking?

The sad truth of the matter was they hadn’t been thinking at all. Roxie had lost her job as a security expert for high stakes gaming at a Vegas casino and Emily had been a victim of downsizing at the hotel where she worked. And herself? Lola sighed, still feeling the pain of it all. She had been fired from her show Pink Flamingo Girls for being too old. All those years of dance lessons and keeping her body in primo shape had turned to nothing just days after her thirtieth birthday. Then to make matters worse, her boyfriend Nick had dumped her days after that. Talk about a double whammy. Lola had never been one to have little pity parties for herself but she was about as blue as the décor of Mesa Blanco, Texas’ only café.

They’d stumbled into the place, exhausted, stressed and dying of thirst only to be met by three of the hunkiest, rope-’em-up, tie-’em-down cowboys they’d ever seen. The place had been practically empty except for them and, gallant gents that they were, the men had treated them to soft drinks, lord love ’em. Wyatt Cavenaugh, a local rancher, had already offered Emily a job as a cook of all things. Dang woman could barely boil water. Together they’d driven off in the man’s big truck. Roxie was, at the moment, caught up in a low conversation with the handsome owner of the local honky-tonk.

Tension ratcheted up a notch when the other dark, hunkalicious man moved closer to her and leaned in. The scent of him filled her head. “Want another Coke?”

Lola felt that deep, gravelly and oh-so-sexy voice roll over her body to settle in her pussy. Uh-oh. Trouble in a Stetson, for sure. Ever a sucker for a rough, smoky voice, she nodded. “You’re sweet but no thanks. Sam, is it?”

He tipped his big, black Stetson, his dark eyes burning with a look she’d come to recognize from just about every man she’d ever met. Hunger. Desire. Lust. Definite interest. Ooh boy. Did she ever know that look. “Sam Campbell, county sheriff.” His kissable lips turned up at the corners and Lola’s heart thumped hard in her chest. Late afternoon sunlight beamed through the window near the table to settle on the lines of his bronzed, weathered face and glinted on dark hair that she was dying to get a better look at.

“Lola.”

“Yeah, Lamont, a Vegas damsel in distress.”

Arching a brow, she gave him a considering look. “And you’ve come riding in on your big white horse?”

“Looks like it.”

“My hero. Nice to meet you.” Smiling, she held out her hand which he immediately engulfed in his. The warmth of his touch was sudden and unexpected and Lola felt the loss when he finally released her.

Damn if he wasn’t the sexiest man she’d seen in a long, long time and that included Nick Mantucci whom she’d thought was awfully handsome. Nick was a smooth operator who wore designer suits as if he were born to them. Not this man. Sam Campbell could’ve stepped out of a scene from one of those old shoot-’em-up movies she used to watch late at night when she couldn’t sleep. Tall, at least six-four or five of brawn and yummy goodness, he not only wore the authority of the sheriff’s badge pinned to his black shirt but carried it on his broad shoulders. The chest beneath that shirt was mounded and muscular practically making her fingers twitch with the need to touch. The man oozed testosterone and wasn’t this a hell of a time to notice such a thing?

Mentally rolling her eyes at her silly turn of thoughts, she glanced away regretfully thinking, wrong time and wrong place. Besides, she was just done with men. Especially those who made promises they’d had no intention of keeping.

“So what are you gonna do, Miz Lola?” Sam quietly sipped his coffee.

Sighing deeply, she jabbed her straw into her now empty beverage glass, making the ice cubes rattle. “Look for a job, I figure.” Feeling more tired than she’d felt in years, she leaned back in her chair and sent her gaze around the room as she tried to think. Her eyes lit on the fluorescent orange “help wanted” sign in the window. Straightening suddenly, she started to get up then remembered her manners. “Excuse me a minute, Sam.”

Feeling his gaze on her back, Lola grabbed up the sign and walked up to the taciturn, gray haired woman standing behind the counter. The heels of Lola’s cute high heeled sandals click clicked out a warning and the matronly lady glanced up with a frown.

“Can I help ya, miss?”

Lola set the sign on the counter. “Looks like you need help and I’d like to apply. Can you tell me who I need to talk with about a job?”

“You’d need to talk to me. I’m Belle Warren.” Belle, all of five two and built like an army tank, looked her up and down slowly and Lola got the feeling she didn’t like what she saw. Figured. Lola was pretty much used to that reaction. “Where ya from, little missy?”

“Vegas, ma’am.”

“Bull dung,” she said matter-of-factly. “That ain’t no city voice you’ve got there, girl.”

Lola opened her mouth to speak when Sam walked up and set his coffee cup on the counter. “Can I get a refill, Belle?”

That got a smile from Belle as she grinned and reached for the coffee pot. “Sure thing, Sheriff.” Seeming to forget Lola’s presence for the moment, she finally turned back to Lola and planted her fists on ample hips. “No sirree. You’ve got the deep south stamped all over you. Where you from?”

Sam propped his gorgeous, denim-covered butt on the nearest stool and listened unabashedly. Though it was damn hard, Lola tried to forget about him and focused on Belle.

“I’m from a little bitty town just outside Jackson, Mississippi.”

“You grew up there?”

“Yes’m. And I waited tables too. From the time I turned sixteen. I’m a really hard worker, Belle.”

“Hmph. Well, we’ll just see about that, I reckon. Now this ain’t permanent. Got that? Merrylee Hawkins just had a baby and she’ll be back for her job in about six weeks or so. That’s all I’ve got to offer.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” she rushed. “I just need to make enough money to get out of town.”

“Why? You have somewhere you need to go?”

Lola had to think about that.

No, she really didn’t but she just couldn’t see herself staying here. The sleepy town of Mesa Blanco was far too similar to the town where she grew up and she hadn’t been able to leave that place fast enough. Nope. She wouldn’t be staying. Finally she shook her head and sighed. “Not really. I guess I just need some time to figure things out.”

“Okay then, I’ll try you out for awhile, Lola.”

Relief swept her and then she thought of something else. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Someone mentioned something about a rooming house?”

“Staying there requires money,” Belle said. She pursed her lips and then seemed to come to some kind of conclusion. “Listen here. There’s no need for that. I reckon you’re pretty much busted.”

“You’ve got that right. I’m a downright pauper at this point.”

“I figured. You ladies rolled in here without two plug nickels between you considering the three of you were gonna share one drink. Hell, I was prepared to contribute to the cause until Sam here, Wyatt, and Cliff jumped in to spring for the drinks. It’s clear ya’ll are pretty broke.”

“Pitiful.”

“Ain’t it just.” Belle shook her head. “Tell ya what. I’ve got a little apartment out back behind the café. I lived there when I was younger, back before I married and started a family. Over the years I’ve rented it out but it’s empty now. It’s not much but it’s furnished and clean. You can stay there until you get on your feet. How’s that sound?”

Lola was so overwhelmed she wiggled around in celebration and impulsively ran around the edge of the counter to give Belle a hug. Belle Warren was a sweetheart despite her gruff demeanor. Lola knew a little something about being judged on the basis of appearance. She should’ve known better. “Thank you. Thank you. Lordy! You won’t be sorry, ma’am.”

Belle stiffly patted her back. “Hell, I’m already sorry.”