One of the things my CP's and I often talk about is how excited (and depressed) we get for each other. But it isn't just my CP's that affect me that way, it's also other writers that I've gotten to know along the way.
When I learned that Silver had sold to The Wild Rose Press, I was ecstatic. I've even had dreams about Silver making it big. I mean BIG!! This past week, I dreamed Faerie Fate was ranked #2 on Amazon (or B&N, I'm not sure which it was - that part of the dream was a little fuzzy). I do know she'd made about $72,000 in the first week!! LOL
I'm going to start having other authors guest blog on Fridays (or as often as I can get them lined up) and I'm so glad Silver is the first. Welcome, Silver!!!
When Alannah asked me to guest blog, I thought of all the things I could write about. I could be serious. Erudite. Snarky. Or just plain humorous. I could compare my journey to publication to the Hero's Journey. (Okay, not so much...)
The Plotmonkeys are celebrating their 4th anniversary, and that got me to thinking. The first post on Penumbra occurred on April 8th, 2007. This is my 3rd anniversary as a blogger. On October 1, 2008, I wrote a post titled “Exposed.” Julie Leto, of the Plotmonkeys, had mentioned Penumbra. And Liza came to check me out and left a comment. Her first, I think. And the last paragraph I wrote that day was this:
Come on in and get comfortable. This is a rather slow ride at the moment but one of these days, I’ll be announcing my first sale and then you can hop on the roller coaster with me! (And maybe, just maybe, I’ll get to be a guest blogger one Saturday in the Jungle. *wink*)
On November 17th of that year, I wrote a post title, “After the Adrenaline Rush,” in which I announced I'd sold FAERIE FATE. No one commented to that post. Which was okay. Because today? I'm here visiting with Alannah, whom I first met through The Plotmonkeys, celebrating the release of FAERIE FATE. And on April 27th, I'll be a guest blogger on...you guessed it, The Plotmonkeys. God winks, yes? So instead of being anything today, I'm simply going to say thank you to all the wonderful people I've met on my journey from then to now. And leave you with the obligatory excerpt and commercial pitch. Since this is Alannah's blog, I am going to turn up the heat a bit. ;) This scene takes place after a battle, in which Ciaran was injured.
Ciaran awoke slowly. Becca lay wrapped in his arms, and he kissed her hair. He needed to do something. He needed to say something to her, but like a will-o’-the-wisp, it danced just beyond his memory. Shrugging the need away, he kissed her awake as he’d longed to do since he’d first lain with her in his bed two months ago. Her mouth was just as sweet as he’d remembered.
Becca opened her eyes and stared into the stormy blue ones watching her intently. “We must be feeling better,” she teased. What had the king called him? The Wolf of the MacDermot. That was certainly apropos. He looked like he was going to eat her alive.
Before she could say more, Ciaran’s mouth covered hers, his tongue teasing her lips. Her hands tangled in his hair as her lips and tongue fought back. Her breasts strained against the soft linen of her shirt, desperate to break free so they could touch his bare chest. One of his big hands found a breast, and she pushed against his palm.
He smiled as he teased her already hardening nipple into a rigid peak. Rolling her backward, his mouth broke away from hers. He grinned at her little moan of protest then his mouth covered a nipple through the linen of her shirt.
Becca gasped as his mouth teased and suckled her breast. So this is what I’ve been missing, a small part of her brain complained. Her hands remained wrapped in his soft hair, and she squirmed against his hipbone when another part of her body demanded equal attention. As his mouth worked on her breast, his now free hand traveled languidly down her ribs, across her hip and down between her legs. Becca moaned again and pushed against his hand.
Ciaran wished she wore a gown, for she’d have been free and open to him at that moment. While the trews she wore left little of her curves to the imagination, the leather created a formidable barrier between them. Despite the trews, his thumb still found the tiny nub guarding her womanly entrance, and he teased it. Becca clamped her legs around his hand. Ciaran groaned. Ah, to have those lovely legs wrapped around him as he pushed into her hot depths. He didn’t think it possible, but he grew harder and thicker with the thought.
He rolled on top of her and groaned again, only this time from pain not passion. Becca immediately pushed him off and away. She sat up and checked the bandage on his hip. Despite the pain he was in, Ciaran grinned at her. Her lips were swollen, her skin flushed. A wet stain surrounded her still taut nipple, and its rosy bud was visible. He was the one who evoked that passion within her. He was the one who would one day soon make her his.
“You’ll pull out the stitches,” she chided as she pushed her hair out of her eyes.
“Stitches?” he asked. “An’ what have yee done, cailín? Have yee sewn me up like a fine, linen shirt?”
“Something like that,” Becca replied distractedly as her fingers tenderly checked his wound. “Ciaran, you almost died,” she scolded, at last satisfied he had done no damage. “You still could. I won’t take a chance with your life.”
He grabbed her hand and placed it around his thick shaft. “What of my boidín?” he asked with a wicked grin. “His life is in danger as well.”
For a long moment, Becca savored the feel of his erection—satin smoothness over steel, a hard ridge running up the underside and a flap of soft skin covering the tip. The muscles between her legs constricted, and she felt a gush of wet heat. She bent her head to taste him, her tongue caressing his swollen tip then swirling around the top of his shaft. His hips thrust helplessly at her, and she opened her lips to take him into her mouth.
Ciaran’s hands fisted in her hair, and he dragged her head up. “Nay, cailín,” he whispered, his voice husky with barely controlled lust. “Not until I can finish by burying myself deep within you.” He pulled her up and kissed her hard, his tongue sweeping in and out of her mouth in a preview of what the rest of him would do to her once he healed.
“You could at least wait until you get the cailín home and in a proper bed before you go about tupping her,” Riordan groused, poking his head through the tent flap.
Available now from The Wild Rose Press, Amazon.com. and barnesandnoble.com: FAERIE FATE by Silver James
It's me, Alannah, again. Silver, I'm so glad that I met you what seems like forever ago. As we all know, this is a tough business. It can leave you feeling like a total failure one day and on top of the world the next. Everything seems to happen at a grindingly (LOL..is that a word) slow pace and it can be so frustrating.
Having friends like you, Paula, Liza, Janet, Cara and Lu makes it all worthwhile. And I mean that from the bottom of my heart. My absolute favorite thing about this "job" is the interaction with other writers and especially the readers.
Thanks for being here today and let me know when you get that $72,000 royalty check!!!
Have a great weekend, everyone!!
Peace and love,