Tuesday, September 01, 2015

Guest Blog: VIP Room Service by Zenobia Renquist

I'd like to welcome Zenobia Renquist to my blog. She has a fabulous new release, VIP Room Service! Keep reading for a hot excerpt!

VIP Room Service (Other Related Duties #1) by Zenobia Renquist

A hotel erotica tale hot enough to set the screen on fire.

She offers satisfaction above and beyond what is requested.

Lexie's job as a maid at a five-star hotel doesn't normally include the unique and risqué form of room service that rich guest Mr. Malena has requested, nor the generous tip he's offered. Submission and exhibition and a ménage. Lexie can't resist. What should have been a one-time thing turns into an introduction into the sensual world of customer satisfaction. This is one workplace encounter that could get her fired...or will it?

NOTE: Title previously published as Wine Service (Professional Courtesy 1).

Genre: Contemporary BDSM Erotica, MFM, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism
Publisher: DZRB Books
Length: Novella - 37K (approx. 83 pages)
ISBN: 9781634750004 (ASIN B00V8RE64K)
Price: $2.99 99¢ - On Sale! (Ends 26 Sep 2015)

** Read an Excerpt **

Lexie backed up a step.
“Now, now. Don’t be frightened. Nothing untoward. I promise.”
She snorted. “What exactly is your definition of untoward? I just rode a bottle for your wanking pleasure.”
“That’s all part of wine service. As is what comes next.”
“I didn’t bring it up last night because of how skittish you were, but there is more to it than stuffing that beautiful pussy of yours with a five-hundred-dollar bottle of Chardonnay.”
“Five hun—” She choked on the word. She’d been riding a bottle of Chardonnay that cost five hundred dollars. True, she knew nothing about wines or why one cost more than another—beyond age—but hadn’t known a single bottle could cost five hundred dollars.
“Yes. In honor of you and your first night. I thought it appropriate a five-hundred-dollar woman should ride a five-hundred-dollar bottle.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Does it get you hot to think about it?”
“You’re insane.” She laughed. “You’re also joking.”
“I’m not. Call Franceska if you don’t believe me.” He gestured to the phone.
She looked at the bottle and then at him. “Five hundred dollars?”
“Wow.” She’d never had anything that pricey between her legs. Her most expensive toy had barely broken the two hundred mark, and here she’d used a five-hundred-dollar bottle of Chardonnay to get off. “So what else is there? Sex, right?”
“If you want, but not what I had in mind right this instance.” He chuckled. “I’m not as spry as I used to be. I need a little more time to regain my stamina.”
“You look plenty spry to me.” She eyed his semi-erect dick. It hadn’t gone limp after he came. A few well-placed licks would probably have it hard again in an instant.
“Bless you, dear girl. You are good for my ego.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back. “Now then. After riding the bottle comes drinking the wine.”
“I’m on the clock.”
“Not you. Me. And a little shouldn’t hurt your performance.” He gazed into her eyes. “Unless you’re a lightweight.”
“No, but I don’t want someone to smell alcohol on my breath either.”
“True. True. But you won’t be drinking.”
“So why do you need me?”
He kissed her hand again and ran his tongue up to her wrist. “You’re my glass.”

Want more? Read the full first chapter online at DRB1stChp Blog:

** Buy Links **
All Romance eBooks






Smashwords (use coupon code FH44L at checkout to receive sale price)

** Bio **
Zenobia Renquist is the alter-ego of D. Renee Bagby. Call her Zen or Renee, she answers to both. Air Force brat turned Air Force wife, she was born in Europe, has lived in Japan and in several states of the US, including Virginia, Florida, North Carolina, Texas, California, Maryland and Hawaii.

She moved a lot in her younger years and remembers all too well being the new kid in fish-out-of-water situations. But those experiences only made her better able to adapt, as well they gave her a love of travel, preferring road trips over flying.

Turning her favorite pastime into her career, Renee loves to build worlds and torture her characters for the enjoyment of her readers. She can’t fill everyday with writing alone, and also enjoys watching anime, reading manga, crocheting, knitting (yarn and mail), and binging shows on Netflix. She’s a Whovian (David Tennant for the win!), a trekkie (DS9 because Odo rocked), and a fan of pretty much every Marvel live action movie and DCU animated movie.

She has a wacky imagination and tends to write all over the place. In order to keep up, she only asks one thing—Leave Your Reality Behind to Discover Different and Unique Romance & Erotica.

Visit her website: http://zenobiarenquist.com

Follow her on Twitter: https://twitter.com/ZenobiaRenquist

Thanks so much for stopping by Zenobia!

Thursday, August 27, 2015

My thoughts on editing

I just finished a round of edits and will probably get another round soon. So the subject is on my mind. This is my take on edits and the process of editing. Other writers experiences may be different.

You've written your story. Polished it to the best of your ability. Either had the story accepted or have gotten an editor for your story.

Edits--sometimes they're routine, sometimes they're difficult. They're part of the publishing process. (If you're self/indie publishing find the right editor or editors for you and your story.)

  • Edits should make you think. An editor offers you another viewpoint. This is your story. By the time I send my stories off, I've read it so many times, gone over parts of it over and over--smoothing and rephrasing, that I've lost perspective on it. I know it too well to see any mistakes or plot holes. 
  • A different view. Some of the best editors I've had have helped me see parts of the story in a different light. They've given me another take on how the story is perceived or how the character is coming off to a reader.
  • Edits should not be one big cheer session. Yes, it's great to get the occasional-This is great! or I like this! Edits, to me, are to find the problems in the story before it hits the stores.
  • Editing changes. Most changes are routine. Fix spelling. Fix wandering body parts. Others though deal with the story. For me, as long as it doesn't change the core essence of the story, I have no problem with almost any change asked. 
  • The best editing relations I've had up to this point have been a sort of dialogue--If I'm confused about what they want, I ask. If they've noted a point of confusion, I fix it and make a comment to explain what I'm intending. That way, they can tell if I've hit the right note or not.

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Update and #flashfiction short--Fierce

The last few days I've been fairly busy. I'm working on edits. At the moment, I'm going through and fixing some roving body parts or  FBPs--Flying Body Parts. Not a hard fix. Most of the time it requires a simple rewrite of the sentence, but it is a little tedious going through over a hundred mentions of said body parts to make sure the POV character is doing the action and not the body part.

I'm so excited about doing these edits!

Like normal though when I'm in the middle of something some of the catchiest scenes or ideas pop into my mind. Wonderful, but I can't write on that sweet bounty hunter thing right now or give much thought to the story behind the intriguing scenes that pop into my head.

Below is a piece of flash fiction I wrote from one of the scenes. I don't know where it's headed, but it's intriguing and I want to know more about it.


Her knuckles stung. She resisted the urge to rub at the stinging skin. If that son of bitch stood, she was going to have to hit him again.

Damn man had nerve coming back here after what he'd done to her friend. She took a deep breath to try to calm the anger beating through her.

She was aware of the nervous shifting of the man who'd come in with the bastard. The armor covered men hadn't intervened. At least not yet. She didn't know if they didn't like Josh or if they were simply too stunned to do anything.

"Go ahead. Move." She stood over him and glared down at him. "I told you what I'd do to you if you caused her any pain."

"I didn't mean to" He didn't move anything other than his lips.

"Do you think that "you didn't mean to" will make any difference to me." She let that sink in. If he stayed on the planet she was going to carry through.

Hands settled on her shoulders. "Why don't you let him get up and leave?"

She wrenched free and spun to face him. "Touch me again and you'll lose those hands. He's got an hour to get off the planet. If he doesn't, I'm not the only one who's going to be coming after him."

Happy Reading.

Thursday, August 06, 2015

Guest Post: Sabrina York's Guard Dog-Stone Hard SEALs

I'd like to welcome Sabrina York to the blog today and she's brought a hot SEAL with her!

RAFFLECOPTER CODE: a Rafflecopter giveaway

Guard Dog by Sabrina York—Stone Hard SEALS and Hot SEALs Crossover Novella
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Guard Dog by Sabrina York
A scorching sequel to Stone Hard SEALs
Mason Steele expected to be a SEAL until the day he died. And he was. A pity they revived him. Now he’s been mustered out of the Navy and his life seems wholly unsatisfying. He misses the action; he misses the camaraderie; he misses being able to use his tightly-honed skills. He’s lucky to have snagged this job with GAPS—the Guardian Angel Protective Services—it provides some hope for his future. But the last thing he wants to do is babysit a spoiled heiress who is obsessed with the color of her nail polish and carries a Chihuahua in her purse.
But there’s more to Pansy Hightower than can be seen at first glance. She’s smart, sassy and determined to save the business her late mother built. She resents having a guard dog and does what she can to lose her muscular shadow. But when it becomes clear that someone is targeting her—perhaps for the same kind of fatal “accident” that befell her mother, she decides having the 240 pound SEAL with killer instincts and lethal hands at her back might be a good idea after all.
Until they share a kiss, that is. Until those lethal hands prove they have other talents as well. Talents that leave her breathless and wanting and weak. The last thing either of them wants is a relationship, but the scorching passion between them cannot be denied…even though it will undoubtedly spell disaster for them both.

“All right then.” Pansy’s surprisingly chipper voice cut through his dismal mood. It had been mortifying admitting his weakness, his failure, especially to her. It was something of a relief that she didn’t seem to understand the deep implications of his confession.
He dared a glance at her. Even bedraggled and tattered as she was, he wanted her. She shot him a bright smile. It made him glower. “All right then, what?” he muttered.
“All right, then. You’ll do.”
You’ll do? You’ll do? Irritation riffled through him. When she tipped her head and her ponytail swung, his ire blossomed.
“But I don’t know about the others.”
“The others are excellent.” He wasn’t sure why he was arguing with her. He wanted this job.  He wanted to be with her. He wanted to keep her safe. And for some reason, thought of some other dude, even one of his brothers in arms, stepping into the duty rankled.
“But I don’t know them.”
“We’ll arrange a meet.” It was standard procedure…when they weren’t on a covert job.
She put out a lip. God he wanted to suckle it. Maybe it would be better if someone else took over. He was far too attracted to her to keep a clear mind. “But I want you,” she said.
Again, her words made something hard and needy sizzle through his bowels. He knew what she meant. He knew she was talking about her protection and not some scalding, savage coupling in the big bed in the next room that was far too close to be successfully ignored.
It was a testament to his delusional state that all he could think about was sex. All he could think about was stripping her naked and taking her here and now. That she wanted it as much as he did.
He imagined he could smell her arousal in the air, which was ridiculous.
A woman like her and a guy like him?
Yeah. Nucking futs.
“No worries. I’ll be on your team. But we’ll have at least three others.” Two on days and two on nights. Although, if he had his way, she wouldn’t be going out again. Certainly not to clubs where he couldn’t guarantee her safety. On that note, he fixed her with a dark look. “We need to talk about security. You’re going to have to make some lifestyle changes until this threat is contained.”
“Like what?”
“Like going out in public.”
“I have a business to run.”
“Is that what they call it? Partying all night with entitled socialites like Monique Dupree?” He didn’t mean to snarl it as he did. But it hardly mattered. She was utterly unaffected by his ferocity.
“Those entitled socialites are my customer base. More than that. They are my influencers.”
He had no idea what that meant. “Too many people. Too many blind spots. We need to keep you in controllable environments.” Like this hotel. Like this suite. That bed…
“Controllable environments?”
Again with the pouting lip. God. It was driving him crazy.
With a grunt, he pushed to his feet—ignoring the sharp string of yips this elicited from Ratacus—and prowled to the wall of windows, pulling back the curtains and peering out at the night in a pretense of assessing any potential hazards. Her suite was on the thirtieth floor. Doubtful anyone would enter from the balcony. Still, he checked the lock on the door. Probably wouldn’t hurt to install a door brace on the front door. He strode back to the foyer and jiggled the handle. Yeah, definitely a brace. He made a mental note of other upgrades the suite needed, of the things he needed to check. First order of business was to sweep for any bugs and check for hidden cameras.
He glanced over at Pansy and immediately revised his priorities. She was leaning back with her head resting on the sofa, her eyes closed. Her face was a cameo of perfection, but it was wreathed in exhaustion. First order of business was to get her to bed.
Lust lanced him.
No. Get her in bed.
By herself.
So she could sleep.
Aw, hell.
His gaze skated over her and he took in the rips in her dress, the scrapes on her legs and the dirt smudging her cheek. He should have tended to her wounds right off the bat. He should have seen to her comfort. He should have—
An ominous clicking sound and a sudden riffle of movement near his ankles captured his attention and he glanced down.
Lola, in her pink tutu glared up at him, her lip curled over impressively pointy teeth. Mason tipped his head to the side and met her challenging gaze with one of his own. It said: Really? Whatcha gonna do, Ratacus?
He probably shouldn’t have.
She lifted her leg.
And peed on his boots.
“Son of a bitch.” He didn’t mean to boom as he leaped back, but he did. Pansy shot up, her eyes wide. “What?” she cried. “What is it?”
He shot her a contrite look. “Your dog peed on my boots.”
“She does that.” Pansy huffed a sigh and headed for the powder room to grab a hand towel. “One of the reasons I don’t date.” She knelt before him and mopped up the puddle.
He should have stooped to help her, but honestly, he couldn’t. He couldn’t move to save his life. Because there she was, kneeling before him, with her head so close…
A scintillating thought, a captivating vision, a scalding need rose like the hydra. That, and a lowering realization.
He was a pervert. A goddamn pervert.
She was cleaning his fucking boots for God’s sake.
“You need a shower.”
Right. No idea why he blurted that.
Well, maybe one idea. He desperately needed her to stand. To move away, before he lost his mind and did something insane and necessary, like pull her closer.
She looked up at him. He forced himself to step away, he had to. Or his erection might have brushed her cheek.
And that would have been a disaster.
“Yeah. Um. You’re all banged up. We should get some antiseptic on those scrapes. Do you have a first aid kit?”
She said nothing so he glanced at her. That she was staring at his crotch sent a bolt of lightning through him. Her tongue peeped out and she lifted her gaze. He could have sworn he saw something simmering there. He tried mightily to ignore it.
Surely it wasn’t what he thought. Imagined. Ached for.
“Do you? Have a first aid kit?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea.” Nearly a whisper.
“I’ll call the concierge.” This was a penthouse suite. Surely there was a concierge. “Why don’t you go…um, clean up and I’ll call down for something.”
She stood slowly, holding his gaze. Something about her, her energy, her intensity, had shifted. It made him antsy. It made him restless. It made him hungry. She turned around—his heart sank—but then she said, softly, with a tentative quiver to her voice, “Could you unzip me?”
Holy. Fuck.
She peeped at him over her shoulder. Her eyes, so beautiful and blue, bore into his. “I can’t do it myself.”
He was certain she could. She was a grown woman. She’d been dressing—and undressing—herself for years. But he couldn’t refuse. Not when she asked so politely. “S-sure.” Hopefully she missed the stutter.
She could not have missed the fact that his fingers shook as he tried to grasp the tiny teardrop at the top of her zipper. Why the fuck did it have to be so tiny? It took forever for him to make the long journey down her spine, partly because the damn zipper kept catching and partly because he really wanted to savor the journey.  As it advanced, more and more of her creamy skin was exposed. He wanted nothing more than to place his palm on her, to stroke her. To feel the heat of her skin against this.
But she’d asked him to unzip her. Not make a move.
It was a damn good thing he’d developed indomitable willpower as a SEAL. Denying himself things crucial to his being—air, water, food—was par for the course in their training.
This was by far the most difficult denial of all.
When he reached the bottom of the zipper, when a hint of a crease at the base of her spine was exposed, he stepped back. Though it cost him. “There,” he said.
Jesus, God. He was going to heaven for this.
He fucking better.
His restraint was nothing short of a penance.
But then…
Holy God.
But then…she shifted her shoulders and the scrap of material drifted to the floor. She shot another glance at him, something that was too much of an invitation to be misunderstood or misconstrued, and, wearing nothing but her skimpy bra and panties, padded into the bathroom.


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 About Sabrina York
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance.  Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Get updates and alerts from Sabrina here: HotSheet Sign Up.  

Sabrina’s Military Romance Titles!

Recent release from Sabrina York

Tuesday, August 04, 2015

WIP excerpt and my to do list #amwriting

Well, today my work to do list got a little longer. Not that I mind in this case. What are my plans for today, you might ask. Well,
  • write (of course)
  • revise
  • brainstorm for a new title (This one was added)
  • work on scene charts (something new I'm doing along with my plot worksheets. Since I decided to start this when I'm in the middle of a couple WIP, I'm playing catch up.)
  • Brainstorm for bounty hunter plot.

WIP Excerpt : Guardian's Embrace

He released her wrist, but let his hand slide down to her palm. His thumb ran over her knuckles. She drew in a slow breath. She thought about pulling away from him, but not for very long. For some reason, she wanted to touch him.

Her hand lifted and she rested it on his chest. Her fingers flexed. She could feel the muscles through the fabric. The urge to push the fabric aside and feel the warmth and hardness caused her to hesitate. What was this? She’d felt attraction before. Most of the Aberrant males were gorgeous, but this… This was more. She felt drawn to Saber and Keir on a deeper level.

His hand brushed across her forehead. “This frown. You’re confused?”

She swallowed and nodded. Her hand moved slowly over his chest. She couldn’t stop touching him.

“You feel it, too.” His fingers brushed across her cheek.

“I… There’s something.” She bit her lip.

“Hey, don’t abuse that lip.” He tugged the full curve free from her teeth. His thumb brushed back and forth over the soft flesh.

Tingles followed that path. Why did it feel so good? She should ask that, but her mind focused instead on the sensation. If a touch on the lips drew that response, what response would an intimate caress create?

She leaned closer, almost without realizing it. Every breath strengthened the arousal building inside her. She couldn’t smell anything specific. It wasn’t the cologne, but something was definitely happening. He’d said “too” earlier.

Happy Reading!