Cicada by Afton Locke, Ellora's Cave

I hope everyone had a happy holiday season. I'm back to work, ready to usher in the New Year, and thought that a great way to do so would be to showcase a fellow author and her new release.

Of course, I had to find out a few things about her first, so I thought I'd share.

Thanks, and may everyone have a Happy New Year.

Taylor Tryst
www.taylortryst.com

Did you always want to be a writer?

No but I've always enjoyed writing, starting with illustrated stories as a kid and working up to novellas and novels as a teenager. Strangely, I went for many years without writing as everyday stuff like dating, school, and work took over my life. For some reason, I started writing again after I got married.

If not, what else did you want to do, and are you doing that as a day job?

Everything! I admire people who know what they want to do when they're 4 years old and then actually do it their whole lives. At various times I aspired to be: an advertising agent, marriage counselor, fashion designer, artist, and international business tycoon, just to name a few. I never dreamed I'd be a software/web developer since I was lousy at math, but that's been my day job for the last 10 years.

Did you choose your genre or did your genre choose you?

They all chose me! I love to read and write in different genres, but there has to be romance or women's fiction in there somewhere. Paranormal is my fave, but the sci/fi genre has definitely chosen me for my next book. I didn't even used to be interested in space but 3 characters insisted I write their menage story.

What was the catalyst that began your writing career?

Getting a print-on-demand book published a few years ago. It wasn't a big success, but it: taught me a lot, made me get serious about writing as a career, and turned my focus to the romance genre. Ever since, it's been conferences (a.k.a. excuses to take trips), writing organizations, workshops, networking, pitching to editors, and non-stop writing.

What's your favorite food and who would you have dinner with if you could chose to share that food with anyone on the planet?

I'm bad at sharing food! Territorial, in fact. I should pick something exotic like eggplant, but like many women I love dark chocolate, preferably baked into brownies or cake with lots of frosting. I'm like the woman in the Milano cookie commercial, sneaking off to some private spot to eat them in secrecy.

As for having dinner, I love the dinners I eat out with my husband. We should be more frugal and not do it every week, but I love dressing up and having that "date" time with him. We always find stuff to talk about and have a great time. (Our dog likes it too because we usually bring her a box.)


Cicada by Afton Locke
Genre: paranormal/BDSM erotic romance with alpha ghost hero
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing
ISBN #: 978-14199-19411 (available now)
Buy Link: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-6603-cicada.aspx?skinid=11

Unlock your darkest fantasies…
www.aftonlocke.com
http://aftonlocke.blogspot.com

Blurb:

Marian, a science teacher on summer vacation, moves into Jon’s house. He’s been dead for a hundred years but he vows to break the curse on himself and win her heart. He seduces her, entices her and is determined to show her who’s boss with some sexy rope tricks—but he intends to earn her love at the same time.

Excerpt:

An Excerpt From: CICADA
Copyright © AFTON LOCKE, 2008
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“What the—” She couldn’t see anyone but he was still there. She felt him pressed against her backside and he was harder than ever.
“I’m still here,” he said, as if she couldn’t figure that out.
Marian’s eyes darted around the room as she clutched the pillows. “Then why can’t I see you?”
“I’m invisible.” He said it as casually as if he’d said he was wearing a blue shirt.
“Invisible,” she repeated. “Give me a break. I’m a science teacher. People aren’t invisible. That only happens in the movies.”
He was still lying on her back and when he shifted she felt coarse cotton fabric against the skin of her legs. He seemed to be wearing pants but they must be invisible too. She also felt the outline of his cock grind against her pussy which was still sensitive from his earlier touching.
“Does that feel real to you?” he asked, close to her ear.
All of her blood seemed to shoot downstream and for one crazy moment she wondered what all that delicious hardness would feel like inside her. Even better than his finger, she imagined. She had to clear her throat just to be able to talk.
“Yes.” The word came out as a half sigh and Marian cleared her throat again. “Do you mind explaining to me why you’re invisible? I mean, you’re seriously freaking me out here. I can see everything in this room except you.”
“Of course,” he replied as he began to play with her long hair and lazily stroke her back. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Jonathan Blake. You may call me Jon.”
“I’m Mar—”
“I know who you are, Mary,” he said curtly. “It’s about time you came back.”
She frowned. “My name is Marian, not Mary and as interesting as this meeting has been, I really need to ask you to leave now. You see, I rented this house for the summer.”
He grabbed all of her hair, lifted her head off the pillow with it and nipped her earlobe with his teeth. “This is my house,” he corrected.
She pulled her hair out of his hand. His weight eased, so she shifted onto her side and propped herself on her elbow.
“So you’re the owner of this house?” she asked. “Good. You just saved me a trip to Seaside Realty to bang some heads together. You have a lot of nerve scamming people out of their rent money, making this place seem haunted. I paid for a private house and a peaceful summer. Instead, I hear all kinds of weird noises, have my clothes stolen and get attacked in my own bed.”
“My bed,” he corrected.
“Whatever. I’m going to report you to the Better Business Bureau.”
Now that her chest was somewhat exposed to him, he was exploring the crocheted lace of her bodice. She pushed his hand away several times but it was hard to hit an invisible, moving target. He chuckled as he traced a finger over the swell of each breast. Her nipples betrayed her by jumping to attention and begging for his touch.
“I don’t think they’d pursue a complaint about a man who’s been dead for a hundred years.”

Christmas

Happy Holidays, everyone.

Like everyone else, I'm taking a few days off for the holidays, but then it's back to writing and trying to finish my current works-in-progress.

My mother and I boycotted Christmas, but nobody told that to Christmas, and with the kindness of others, both friends and family, we have been given the gift of a giant Christmas turkey with all of the trimmings and invited to my ex-boyfriends sister's place for Christmas dinner on Christmas day.

Due to many reasons, all of them trivial, he and I had called it off about two months ago. The tragedy of him losing a horse spurred me into making that dreaded first phone call and we've talked to each other every day since. He showed up last night, out of the blue with the turkey meal, cards, and an invitation.

How romantic is that. I don't think I could have written it better myself.
So, Happy Holidays Everyone.

Taylor Tryst
www.taylortryst.com

Christmas

“Bah Humbug,” I yelled triumphantly, when my mother and I had made a conscious decision to forego Christmas this year.
Who needed it?
We have too much stress in our lives already, like what not to burn in the woodstove to stay warm, before the heating guy came out to repair our ductless furnace. Let me tell you, when it’s negative 30 degrees Fahrenheit outside (-30 below zero, people) everything that’s not nailed down or has some sort of sentimental value goes. Even that ugly sweater from Aunt Betsy… okay, that was one of the first things to go, but you get my drift.
Many other things factored into this Christmas ban, like finances or lack thereof, and the fact that my sister has taken my nephew away, and out of revenge, not allowed me to see or even speak to him, all because we forced her into drug rehabilitation to save her life.
Plus, the fact that my son (19 going on 50) moved to Duluth to begin his life—these issues have all spiraled together, and like a giant tornado sucked the holiday spirit out of us both.
The worst part of it was that Christmas had always been my favorite time of year। Since as early as my son can remember, my son and I would go all out decorating the house together. We’d put up the funny drawings of Santa and snowmen (which he made in school) on the windows and doors, deck out the tree, and put up the lights.
But this year it just wasn’t the same. We live 20 or so miles from an extremely small town, so it was easy to stay out of the Christmas cheer. No shopping, no sending out cards, because it just didn’t feel right.
After yet another doctor’s appointment for my back, we pulled into our snow-covered driveway and low and behold, there sat my son’s 4x4. Squealing like two eight-year-old girls my mother and I managed to find him in the hallway, and all but tackled him.
Suddenly, it didn’t matter that we had no tree and all of the trimmings, but that we were together, as a family. There will be no gift exchange, but my heart is full and that’s gift enough. Isn’t that what Christmas is all about.
Family, love, sharing, joy, and realizing that the rest of it is just material things that in the end, don’t really matter at all.
Recently, my editor lost her mother to a long-time battle with Alzheimer’s, and another fellow author in our group, ‘The Pond’ lost her husband after a long and happy marriage. My heart went out to them both, but they are strong and powerful women who are carrying on, though they lost something so precious. The life of a loved one.
I know I won’t take that for granted again, even if I do have to be reminded to be humble, because sometimes you have to look at the bright side, at what you still have, what you can hold onto. Be it family, friends, or just memories, may they all warm your hearts!
Happy Holidays, my friends,
Taylor
Taylor Tryst
http://www.taylortryst.com/

Dating/Email Faux Pas of 2008

Okay, so it’s Christmas, and I’ve been a little depressed, a little distracted, and maybe hitting the Egg Nog a little too hard (kidding). However, I have pulled out the big guns and made the ultimate emailing Faux Pas of the year.

There should be some sort of award for these types of errors. Like hitting reply to all by accident after ranting and raving about a co-worker, boss or friend, or posting to your chat loop when the said email should have only gone to your BWF (Best Writer Friend).

Yes, I had a lot going on this morning. My mother, who should have been born a Marine Drill Sergeant, was fully dressed, showered, and coated-up in Eskimo form, waiting for me to join her so we could make the trip to town for groceries in subzero weather.

I was answering emails, preparing a bank withdrawal and deposit form to send my traitorous son grocery money (he moved out two weeks ago and broke his mother’s heart), all while trying to tie up other various loose ends.

I had decided to send a friendly email to the head of the art department at Ellora’s Cave. My fellow frogs (you know who you are) will know him as a kind and generous soul who always responds quickly and professionally to a request/status check on cover artwork. He also has some sort of magical way with the cover Gods, and seems to wave his wand (keeping this clean) and produce…well…magic.

“Body Candy” is my next book and it will be released on February 18, 2009. I was curious to see the status on the cover so I can begin promotions.

I was also having to deal with the unpleasant task of turning down a date with a very nice man, we’ll call him (Grocery Guy) since he’s the manager of my local grocery store. The only grocery store in town, I might add. Grocery Guy invited me to his company Christmas party. I was extremely grateful for the invite, and flattered, but I’m currently in no condition to date, let alone ruin my relationship with a local retailer. So, in a long and drawn out email, I explained that Grocery Guy deserved a woman who could be there for him and fully commit herself to a relationship, and told him of my sincerest wishes to remain friends.

Hours later, after running those errands, ducking Grocery Guy at the market, and returning home in subzero weather to unload the groceries, and plug my battery in with hypothermic fingers, I came in to check my email.

I was so excited to see an email from the God of the art department at Ellora’s Cave. Expecting to see my cover, fingers crossed, I double clicked. Instead of my cover or a brief explanation that my cover was still being processed, however, I received this:

I believe you sent this to the wrong person.

The next line was a forwarded copy of the email that should have been sent to Grocery Guy, in which I declined the date, and gave an explanation for doing so.

Thanks,
Cover Liaison
Jasmine-Jade Enterprises, LLC
1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310
Ellora's Cave Publishing & Cerridwen Press
covers@ellorascave.com

So, I realize with a red face that the EC Cover Liaison received my date refusal, and Grocery Guy received my cover request.
Grrr.
After I corrected my egregious error, I closed my computer, took a shower, put on my jammies, and hit that Egg Nog, hoping to avoid the Cover God at Romanticon 2009 in Ohio next fall because I’ll probably still have egg on my face, minus the Nog of course. The worst of it is that I still don't know what to say when Grocery Guy wants to discuss erotic cover art while I'm shopping for cat food...

Happy Holidays everyone,
Taylor

Taylor Tryst
http://www.taylortryst.com/

Recession proof Christmas...NOT

Well, I'm finally ready to admit it to myself. I'm saying it out loud, even screaming it, because hey, it keeps me warm and at this point, I need every bit of heat I can muster.

With the economy the way it is this year, and various disasters in my life, the absence of my son and nephew, my mother and I have decided to "Call off Christmas."

Humbug, right. I could name a list of the various reasons for doing so, but I think people in today's world understand. We're all lucky that the price for gasoline has dropped and we can afford to run our vehicles. We're lucky if we have income, we're lucky if we have a roof over our heads and food in our mouths. Some don't have that.

I live in the Great North Woods of Minnesota and we've been having our worst weather recently. It was -13 below zero the other night, and of course, our furnace, which is run by propane, has broken. So, as if in the Great Depression, my mother and I are taking turns burning wood in the wood stove twenty-four seven, until the repairman can come on Monday, through a bitterly cold weekend. My mom crawled out from her electric blanket the other morning and it was 45 degrees in our living room. To make things even worse, we don't have duct work, which just in case you don't know are the pipes or slinky like silver tubing that carries heat to registers that delivers it into your home. No, our furnace dumps all of the heat beneath our house into the crawl space. WTF, you ask. I did too. I didn't realize this little gem until our first winter in the North Woods. Of course, it wasn't revealed by the real estate agent, owner, either. Being a single mom, a house of mostly women, except for my poor son and nephew at the time, I didn't think to check for duct work...

So, what's my New Year resolution?
Heat.
A new house with duct work.
Moving somewhere warm.
The list is long. But for now, I'm thinking that my mom and I'd erred on judgement and should have purchased a Christmas tree.
Hell, we could've burned it to stay warm. Now that's a wonderful gift, my friends.

Merry Christmas,
Here's hoping your is better than mine,
Taylor Tryst
www.taylortryst.com

"Body Candy"
February 18, 2009
Ellora's Cave

"Leather and Lace"
Available now

There's always tomorrow! Even for romance.

I'll be thirty-nine in February and I'm sitting on a precipice of sorts.
I'm physically in pain, and at the lowest point of my life, emotionally, financially, and mentally. My son just moved into an apartment with he and his old hockey buddies, who are now in college. My hopes for him are that he'll find a great job and stay around, but I'm almost certain he'll join the Marines.
Truth be told, I joined the Army Reserve at thirty-five and the trauma I experienced changed my life. It began the downward spiral of anxiety, depression, and panic attacks, and never ending wrong turns that seem to make up my life's road.

As any mother grieving the loss of her child to the world, I moved into his room (he has bigger closets) and as I lie in bed with my laptop I realize something.
I want to take control of my life again.
I want to be a success in publishing.
I want to make he and my mother proud.
I want to make myself proud.
If that means facing the pain of past trauma's, then so be it.
So, tomorrow begins anew. For everyone. My son, my mother, and the readers out there waiting for more great stories, both fiction and non. If I write about the abuse I endured at the hands of a female drill sergeant during basic training, I will be straying off course, no longer in the realm of romantic fiction/erotica, but then there's always tomorrow to return to that which has always sustained me.
Today, I truly must stand on my own.
Today, I must rise up and fight.
Today, I must take back my life, my soul, my honor and my being.
For tomorrow will soon come.
And like my son, setting off into the unknown to make a life for himself, I too hope to awaken with a smile knowing in my heart that it'll be a good day, an honest day, a day to live again.
Taylor Tryst
www.taylortryst.com

One of 'those' days

I'm sure you've all had one of 'those' days.

You know, the one's where nothing goes right from the moment you open your sleep-blurred eyes and stare down your noisy alarm clock.

Today was one of those days for me. I say one of them, because believe it or not, I've had quite a few in my lifetime.

I had a doctors appointment in a town that's approximately a four-hour drive, and would you believe with a two hour window we still barely made it in on time. Of course, the appointment was in another town, and God forbid that I, sitting in the backseat due to my back injury, I mind you, had the audacity to attempt to read the map.

Navigator, I am not.

You might as well set me dead center on Wall Street and ask me to make trades, because I'd lose it all within moments, much like navigating us from Minnesota to a doctor's office just over the border in North Dakota. If it hadn't been for my son's absolute stubborn will to ignore every piece of my advice (He's 19, they do that) we'd probably still be lost.

I spilled coffee on my sweater.

I wore the old panties that I've thrown away multiple times, but that mysteriously keep ending up back in my dresser drawer (m o t h e r...) because I dressed in the dark this morning and didn't see the holes.

As it turned out, the appointment was a huge waste of time, and the doctor was with me for three to five minutes before jostling me out of the office, holes and all, still having extreme pain from a compression fracture, but with no answers for a workable solution for my misery. A specialist, my arse!

In tears, I slept most of the way back, until I awoke to red and blue lights and a flashlight in my face. My son was pulled over for speeding and the officer decided that the woman covered from head to toe in a plush blanket must either be unconscious or being kidnapped. After convincing him that I was okay, he let my son go with a warning to keep it under the limit, and gave me a nod and a gorgeous smile.

Hmm, maybe my luck is turning around?

Nah, still can't get my printer to work...Now, if I could only find that how to manual...

Taylor