Dellani Oakes: The Ninja Tattoo

Many welcomes to our next author, Dellani Oakes. Dellani's talents as a writer are varied. Indian Summer is set in 1739 in the Floridian township of St. Augustine. Fifteen year old Gabriella, daughter of the town's governor, learns about matters of the heart as well as matters of the era. She is promised to one man and falls in love with another.

Dellani's next book was Lone Wolf. This story takes us ahead in time by 1293 years to the year 3032AD! Matilda Dulac is a member of the Galactic Mining Guild, and when a miner arrives with a load of Trimagnite, a highly toxic liquid ore, the Lond Wolf offers to take it off Matilda's hands. Little does she realize her world is about to come undone by this mysterious stranger.

Now, Dellani offers readers yet another genre -- The Ninja Tattoo. Teague McMurtry spent six years in the army. When he's had enough, he returns home to his old life, hoping to put the horror of war behind him. But when he meets the vivacious Vivica, Teague is thrust back into war. But this time, it's personal. He's been targeted for death by a violent biker gang headed up by Vivica's older and hugely over-protective brother, Randy. You see, Randy has plans for his sister, all of which she rebels against. And now that she's getting serious with the new man in her lifee, Randy pulls no punches trying to get rid of Teague. The man who kills Teague McMurtry will be awarded the coveted Ninja Tattoo in the biker group.

Very exciting stuff! Dellani has her finger on the pulse here when it comes to writing a page-turning story that's full of action, suspense, romance, and yes, a few erotic liaisons! This story is has a little of everything for the contemporary reader. You will definitely wish this story was longer.

Dellani took a few minutes out of her busy schedule for a quick chat.

Hey Dellani. Thanks for taking some times to chat with us and telling us about your work. Could you please talk to us about your life away from the computer. Please, describe your writing space for our readers.

My writing space is a desk in one end of the dining room. It's also Grand Central Station, or feels like it when the entire family is home.

I know what that's like. Makes you really appreciate the quieter times. With all the activity, what is your daily writing routine like?

It varies. While I eat breakfast and recharge with a cup of coffee, I read whatever book I'm reviewing. I try to read until 10:00 and then start on my daily writing and promoting chores. These are often interrupted by phone calls, appointments and errands. I've learned over the years that no one respects a writer's time or space – including family.

Oh yes. I totally understand that one. Unless one is an artist in some fashion, it's difficult to know exactly what an artist's life is really like.

What do you enjoy doing when you're not writing?

I love to read and like a variety of books, though I shy away from horror. I also watch a lot of movies and TV shows on Netflix. I'm very much a home body.

Don't let Dellani fool you, readers. She's also a very active blogger AND an internet radio personality . . . this woman has her hands in many hats!

Here's an excerpt of The Ninja Tattoo . . .

• • •

Her eyes and smile softened, her lip trembling as tears threatened to fall. "You have this way of blindsiding me with compliments, Teague McMurtry. Why are you so damn adorable?"

He smiled, his voice dropping into the delicious, dark chocolate range. "It's easy to compliment a woman when all I have to do is tell the truth. You are beautiful, vivacious, magnificent, stunning and seductive." He set the dog down, walking over to where she stood. "I want you to tie me up in your hair and never let me go." He took handfuls of her hair, bringing them to his lips, inhaling deeply as he buried his face in her dark tresses.

Vivica wanted to push away. She wanted to warn Teague that the worst move in his life he could make would be hooking up with her. She couldn't make herself say the words that she needed to because his lips were on hers, gently but firmly demanding her kiss. His arms went around her as she grasped his belt loops, pulling him as close as he could go. She felt his desire as he devoured her mouth, making love to her with his kisses. Her body shivered with delight as he moved from her lips to her cheek and down her neck. His teeth nipped her earlobe, then blazed a ragged trail to the top of her shoulder. Grasping the collar of her blouse, he pulled the soft material away from her skin, nibbling and nuzzling the curve of her neck.

His kisses were liquid sex; seductive and compelling. Vivica had never felt anything so incredibly delicious in her entire life. She'd had men come on to her, a few make love to her, but she knew instinctively that none of them had done for her what Teague McMurtry could.

She wanted him as much as he obviously wanted her, so what was stopping her? Perhaps the fact that she had never taken a man to her bed that she had known less than a day. As exciting and intriguing as she found him, he was a stranger. She melted against him as his hands caressed her breasts. Suddenly, he stopped kissing and fondling. Hands still on her chest, he drew back from her.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured. "I'm being a dick. I'm really sorry."

"It's—I'm . . . It's okay," she said, her words a jumble of disjointed thoughts.

"I'd better go. If I don't, won't neither of us get any sleep." He didn't even notice that his speech reverted to his Country roots.

It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, walking away from her. He wanted her more than any woman in his entire life. His body hurt, aching with desire he knew he wouldn't satisfy that night. He hardly knew her, but he felt drawn to her in ways he never thought possible. He wanted to bury himself in her, losing his sense of self, joining with her forever, becoming one with her in mind, body and soul. These feelings were totally foreign to him and terrified as much as they intrigued.

Vivica knew he was right. She had to let him leave. Keeping him there, feeding his desire to satisfy her own wants, was cruel. She wouldn't put her worst enemy through that kind of torture. She let him disengage, keeping her hands pressed to his firm chest. She couldn't seem to stop touching him.

"Yes," she agreed. "You're right. Another night," she promised them both. "We'll do this another time, Teague. Sometime when we know each other better."

 • • •

Author, journalist, photographer, teacher, reviewer, radio show host—Dellani Oakes has worn many hats.

Addicted to writing, she spends as much time at it as possible and gets cranky if she's late getting a fix.

The Ninja Tattoo is Dellani's third published novel, though she claims to have enough, still unpublished, to keep a publisher busy for the next ten years.

Dellani also enjoys writing short stories and novellas, several of which have received Honorable Mentions in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest.

Dellani currently lives in Florida with her husband and two of their four children.

Dellani loves hearing from her fans. You can contact her here --

Dellani Oakes
Facebook
Twitter
MySpace
Dellani's Choice Blog
Writer's Scantuary Blog

And if you want to buy a copy of The Ninja Tattoo, be sure to visit Dellani's page on the Tirgearr Publishing website which has all her buy links. The Ninja Tattoo is available for Kindle, Nook, Kobo, Sony, iTunes/iBooks, and all other readers --

--- } http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Oakes_Dellani/the-ninja-tattoo.htm

Lucy Felthouse: Ditched

Greetings and welcome to our friend, Lucy Felthouse. These days, the word 'erotica' seems to be synonymous with Felthouse, as Lucy has penned or taken part in more than seventy publications. Yes, you read that correctly. Seventy . . . as in 7-0! And she's not stopping.

On 19 September, Lucy saw her book Ditched published (not sure if I'm counting correctly, but this could be her 20th stand-alone story).

Ditched is Private Damien Stone's story. He's a man living in a nightmare. His superior seems to take delight in bossing Stone around, making him think Lance Corporal Michael Scott doesn't like him. Could it be Stone's bi-sexuality, or something more? When they're out together on an exercise on the Salisbury Plain, things go from bad to worse. Stone is hotly attracted to his superior but he can't keep wicked thoughts from racing through his mind. Being attracted to his superior is bad enough but forced to spend so much alone time with Scott and not being able to do anything about the attraction is killing him. What to do?! Readers will have to pick this one up to find out ;-)

I met up with Lucy to talk about Ditched and asked her what she got up to when she wasn't writing.

Hey Lucy. Thanks for joining us today. You're certainly one busy lady and have a great back list of books for new readers to catch up on. Please, describe your writing space for our readers.

Small, desks on three sides of me, overflowing bookshelf, cupboards and drawers stuffed full of more books. Lots of pens. Laptop in front of chair, iPod speakers to the right, next to my drinks mats. Photos of hot men stuck on the wall in front of me. Pinboard where I keep important stuff for events, etc. 

Mmmmm . . . hot men staring down at you while you work? No pressure there ;-) What is your daily writing routine like?

I don't always write every day. It depends how busy I am with my business, Writer Marketing Services. I have to make that a priority as that's where guaranteed money comes from. But when I do have time, I'll just sit down at the laptop and start writing, sometimes with music, sometimes without. Occasionally I'll go and sit in my room and write into a notebook and type it up later. If it's warm and dry outside, I'll go and sit in the garden and write into my notebook. I just write when I can, but if I'm not in the mood I won't force it because then it usually comes out rubbish!

That explains, partly, why you do so well. You're in marketing! {makes note to have a chinwag with Lucy about this}What do you enjoy doing when you're not writing?

Reading, watching films and TV shows, spending time with my OH, going out visiting stately homes and interesting historical places, walking, camping, travelling.

I love stately homes too. So much history there. Love the architecture. And tons of story ideas!

Thanks for chatting with us.

• • •

“This can’t be fucking right!” said Lance Corporal Michael Scott, checking his map for the umpteenth time.

“I can assure you, Scott, that it fucking is,” responded his colleague, Private Damien Stone. He nudged the other man, pointed to a place on his own map then raised his arm, and indicated a rise in the ground in the near distance.

“See, that’s that long barrow, so we are in the right place.”

Looking at the barrow—one of the many on Salisbury Plain—then down at the map, and finally at his compass, Scott had to agree.

“So where the fuck are they, then?”

Stone had no answer for that one. He looked up into the lightening sky, which in the distance was being slowly tinged with pink, but saw no sign of their pick-up helicopter. Straining to hear even the faintest sound of rotor blades, Stone remained silent.

Hearing nothing, he shrugged. “Dunno. Perhaps we got the time wrong, or something?”

“I hope not; otherwise, they’ve gone without us!”

“Nah. We’re early, if anything. The sun’s only just coming up.”

Sighing, Scott stuffed his map and compass into a pocket, and said, “Well, I guess we’d better find somewhere to shelter. I don’t like the look of that.”

The that he was talking about was an ominous-looking black cloud being buffeted in their direction by the wind, which was picking up rapidly.

“With you on that one.”

On an unspoken command, the two of them immediately split up and started to look around for somewhere they could keep out of the wind and imminent rain. It wasn’t long before Scott shouted out, and Stone immediately turned and headed in the direction of his colleague’s voice.

When Stone arrived, Scott had already removed his backpack and dropped it into the ditch he’d found and was striding down the slope to join it. Luckily, there’d been no rain over the past few days so the ground was dry. If the coming rainstorm ended up being heavy, it was entirely possible they’d get wet arses, but for now at least, they’d be reasonably comfortable.

Stone shrugged off his pack. Turning, he saw that Scott was standing with his arms out, ready to catch it. He tossed it and gave a curt nod of thanks before heading down into the ditch.

Once there, he saw that some scrub covered a couple of sizeable rocks, meaning they would at least be able to sit. It would have to rain pretty damn hard for the water level in the ditch to get as high as the top of the rocks, so they’d be all right until the chopper arrived.

He hoped.

Pulling out his switchblade, Stone began hacking at the scrub to clear it away. The roots and branches were pretty thick in places, and Stone became impatient and grabbed a handful and yanked. He quickly regretted his actions.

“Fuck me!” he yelled, dropping the blade and cradling his injured hand with the other one. A deep scratch, flanked by a couple of superficial ones, striped his palm, and blood welled up.

“All right, Stone?” Scott had been so busy scanning the sky for a sign of their transport he hadn’t seen what had happened.

“Do I fucking look all right?” Stone snapped, moving toward his backpack to get a bandage and something to clean the wound.

“Chill out, mate. It’s not exactly a landmine, is it?”

Scott’s attempt at humor—tasteless as it was—only served to inflame Stone’s temper further. He shot Scott a look that would have turned a lesser man to stone, yet said nothing, and continued struggling to locate the medical supplies in his bag.

Sighing, Scott nudged Stone out of the way. “Come on, mate. Let me get it for you.”

Muttering, Stone allowed his colleague to retrieve the kit. Looking down at his hand, he saw it was still bleeding, though not as freely. A glance up at the sky told him they were still completely alone on the plain. Where the hell was the fucking helicopter?

Before he got chance to wonder too much about it, Scott stepped in front of him, medical supplies in hand. Taking the wrist of Stone’s injured hand, Scott looked at the cut. He then tore open and used a medicated wipe to clean it, biting back a smirk when Stone hissed as the chemicals went into the wound and stung him.

Finishing the job with a neatly fastened bandage and a clap on the shoulder, Scott said, “Okay, mate. You’re all set.”

“Thanks,” Stone replied, flexing his hand to make sure the bandage wasn’t too tight or too loose. “Shoulda been more bloody careful, shouldn’t I?”

Grinning good-naturedly, Scott spread his arms in a placating manner and replied, “Hey, I didn’t say a word.”

“Just as well. I’m not in the mood.”

“I noticed.”

 • • •

Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story - so she did. It went down a storm and she's never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Constable and Robinson, Decadent Publishing, Ellora's Cave, Evernight Publishing, House of Erotica, Ravenous Romance, Resplendence Publishing, Sweetmeats Press and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour, Seducing the Myth, Smut by the Sea and Smut in the City.

 Lucy loves hearing from her fans. You can contact her here --

Website - http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk
Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/lucyfelthousewriter
Twitter - http://www.twitter.com/cw1985
Newsletter - http://eepurl.com/gMQb9


And if you want to buy a copy of Ditched, be sure to visit Lucy's website with all her buy links. Ditched is available for Kindle, Nook, Kobo, Sony, iTunes/iBooks, and all other readers --

--- } http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/ditched

Wendi Zwaduk: Switch - Still The One

Dear friend, Wendi Zwaduk, joins us today at Heart of Fiction. Wendi's story, Still The One is part of the Switch anthology from Total e-Bound, which is due for release 8 October, and I must say, I'm really anxious to see this one. Wendi is a master storyteller, and well, she writes one hell of a tangy story!

Adult advisory: Switch is a collection of erotica stories which include tales of BDSM, spanking, the use of sex toys, etc. Delicate natures beware!

In Wendi's story, Still The One, Eric Trask is really stressed out from his job. He's on the pit crew for a race team and keeping things running smoothly is hard work and wearing him down Simply put. Eric needs a break.

Janine Walters feels for Eric, as she's also on the team as their PR person.Stressed and in need of release, she finds her outlet in a rather unusual way. When she introduces Eric to her alternative lifestyle, she worries about damaging their fragile friendship. Need she worry? Only way to find out is read the story! ;-)

I'll just say this story isn't just hot. It's hoooooooot! {fan, fan, fan}

I met up with Wendi to talk about her work and what she gets up to when she's not penning such delectable tales --



I want to thank Kemberlee for having me here today. I love stopping by the different blogs and well, Kemberlee is a dear friend. It is always fun to be with friends.

She asked me to describe my writing space. It’s funny. I’m sure most authors have offices in which they write. Some even have special spaces for their stories. Not me.  I share my office space, if that’s what you want to call it, with the rest of the family. Yes. My writing room is pretty much wherever I can spare a moment in the house. Be it on the couch, my bed, the floor, dining room table, or even in a notebook on my lap. I’ve been known to write in the car – while riding, never driving – and in the RV. If I can find a place to stop, then I will write. It’s incredibly scattered, but it is what it is.

She also wondered what my daily writing routine is like. I confess, I must snort at this question. Not because Kemberlee asked, but because even though I love a routine and crave one . . . most of the time my routine is also known as utter chaos. During the school year, I get up with the small person, take care of 75% of the evil day job, take tot to school, come home and work on the rest of the EDJ. Now from here it gets murky. If DH is sleeping or working, then I write. If the characters are cooperating, then this is easier. If they aren’t, then I get things done around the house. If DH is home and needs me, then the whole thing goes right out the window. I work around DH and the small person. Why? Because Fighting them and begging to write doesn’t work. It’s not a bad thing. Usually when I can’t sit to write, that’s when the characters get chatty. I bring a notebook with me so it’s all good.

This last question is a favorite. There are lots of things I like to do when I’m not writing. Most all of them have something to do with writing because I find inspiration in the strangest things. Snippets of stories come to me when I don’t really want them to. Grin. It’s a good thing, though. So what do I do when I’m not writing? I love racing. Love to watch it in person and on the television. If I’m not watching a race, then you can find me at the library. I love to read. John Grisham and Stephen King are favorites. I also enjoy art – drawing in pencil and oil crayons as well as painting in acrylics. People and animals are my favorite things for the subjects. I also love to research the eras and occupations of my characters. It’s a quirk, but it’s mine.

Thank you, Kemberlee. I’m glad I got to be here. Now I want to know, where do you think an author should write? An office or is the scattered idea of writing anywhere more suitable? I’d love to know.

• • •

 “Put the bags in the trunk.” She stood tall and slid the scarf from around her throat. “I need you to do something for me.”

“I liked the scarf where it was. Might want to use it on you later.” He slammed the trunk lid. “I can see the wheels turning in your head. What are you thinking?”

“Wrists.” Curt, brusque and to the point. “Now.”

Eric stared at her for a moment, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out. His gaze darted around, but he offered his hands.

“Good boy.” Her hunch had paid off. His inner submissive wanted to play, and had won out against his alpha needs. She wrapped the silk around his wrists. “You please me.”

“Janine, what are you doing? I wanted to do this to you, not me.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I please you? Does that mean you think I’m sexy?”

She threaded her arms around his neck, rubbing her groin over his bound hands. “I,” she said between kisses, “am in control of what we do.” She feasted on his lips, licking his bottom lip and swiping her tongue over his teeth. The tastes of mint and cola exploded on her tongue. She ground against him, pleasuring herself against his thick fingers. “And I want to do you right here, right now, sexy man.”

Eric moaned and she backed away. Confusion burned in his eyes and colour filled his cheeks. Instead of giving him the lead, she reached forward and unzipped him. Red dusted his face and the tops of his ears.

“You’re not worried someone will see us?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“I’m not.” She pushed his jeans aside enough to stroke his cock through his boxer briefs. “They can’t see behind the car and, if you keep quiet, we won’t draw attention.”

• • •

I always dreamt of writing the stories in my head. Tall, dark, and handsome heroes are my favorites, as long as he has an independent woman keeping him in line. I earned a BA in education at Kent State University and currently hold a Masters in Education with Nova Southeastern University.

I love NASCAR, romance, books in general, Ohio farmland, dirt racing, and my menagerie of animals.  I also write under the pen name of Megan Slayer. I’m published with Total-E-Bound, Changeling Press, Liquid Silver Books, Turquoise Morning Press, Decadent Publishing and The Wild Rose Press. Come join me for this fantastic journey!

If you like my work, tell your friends and email me. I love hearing from readers!

Site: http://wendizwaduk.com

Blog: http://wendizwaduk.blogspot.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/WendiZwaduk

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/wendi.zwaduk

Fan page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Wendi-Zwaduk/195277927167481?

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/author/wendizwaduk

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3495446.Wendi_Zwaduk

On Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/wendizwaduk

On Google+ : https://plus.google.com/115637543946745656739/posts

On Romance Novel Center: http://www.romancenovelcenter.com/wendizwaduk

Newsletter sign up:  http://ymlp.com/xgjmjumygmgj

And if you want to buy a copy of Switch, be sure to visitWendi 's page at Total e-Bound with all her buy links. Switch is available for Kindle, Nook, Kobo, Sony, iTunes/iBooks, and all other readers --

--- } http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1787

Stella Whitelaw: No Darker Heaven

Give a great big hello to one of Britain's most prolific authors, Stella Whitelaw. Stella's writing career began at the tender age of *nine*. Stella had been suffering from a case of the measles and her father gave her a typewriter, figuring learning to use the typewriter would distract little Stella from her discomfort. Little did he know Stella would pick up the writing bug and clutch it close to her chest for the rest of her life.

In her adult life, Stella has, so far, penned more than *forty* works of fiction, which include the wonderful Jordan Lacey Mysteries, and the recently re-released No Darker Heaven.

In No Darker Heaven, Lyssa Pasten is a torn woman. Simply put, Lyssa loves two men: her new fiancé, Matthew Arnold, and Jethro Arnold, Matthew's father. Lyssa and Jeth try fighting against their attraction for each other for both Matthew's sake and for the sake of Lyssa's daughter, Bethany, who suffers from RAS (renal artery stenosis).

Lyssa dedicates some of her time to generating donations for RAS. One of the ways she earns donations is through parachute jumps, which features in the story. Upon starting this book, Lyssa is participating in her first jump. Stella has really poured so much feeling and imagery into this scene. Readers will feel Lyssa's heart pounding as her turn to jump draws near.

Hallow House is the backdrop for much of this story, the family home in Sussex, England. This is a very old and stately home, one filled with more than just antiques and family heirlooms, but also every emotion running through the telling of this story.

If things weren't tense enough between Lyssa's love for both Jeth and Matthew, and Bethany and her illness and Lyssa's charity work, then Jeth goes missing. It's then Lyssa must face one of her worst fears . . . having to make a choice between Jeth and Matthew. She'll have to follow her heart. But in which direction will it lead her?

No Darker Heaven is certainly filled with a myriad of emotions that will touch readers' hearts.

Stella took some time from her insanely busy schedule to chat about her life away from the computer --

Hi, Stella. Thanks for joining us today. Please tell us about your writing space.

I dream of a Jilly Cooper style study with wall to wall books, huge desk and French doors to the garden.  I work on a big dining room table which I only vacate at Christmas under protest.  There are books everywhere, growing in piles and paper of every kind, magazines, notes, manuscripts, reminders.  I have an obsession with paper and cannot resist pristine pads of clean paper.

But I do have a view of the garden and a mass of tall trees, alive with birds.  Rose quartz and rock crystal handy on the desk to hold in barren moments of despair.  Photos of future heros pinned on cork board and wall.  Several of a younger Harrison Ford and now Johnny Depp.  I always pin up photos of my characters and where they live.

Several cats around, wanting to be part of the action, usually asleep in filing trays on top of vital notes. I do not wake them.

Stella, you're a woman after my own heart. Harrison Ford and Johnny Depp? {sigh} So, what can you tell me about your daily writing routine?

My writing routine is summed up in three words:  Write Every Day. I don’t take time off unless absolutely necessary.  Emails first a.m, then writing from 10 a.m onwards until a vague lunch time.  Afternoons are spent on a mad shop, library, appointments, research.  Back to work about 5 p.m with a cup of tea and then it’s writing until I drop sometime about the Ten O’clock News.

As my daughter says constantly:  “Slow down, Mum, slow down.”

I have so much to do, I often wish that there were three of me.  But this would create three times the clutter, so perhaps not.

LOL Funny Stella, but I know what you mean. It does sound like a full plate, but you're the kind of woman who takes life by the lapels and shakes it around a bit. Do you have any other interests . . . besides running on life's treadmill, that is?

Yes, alcohol, chocolates, watching TV and playing with the cats.  No, seriously, my spare time is full of interest.  I sing with a local Operatic Society.  Our next show is “Chess” and I’m auditioning to be a Pit Singer, whatever that is.  I invigilate at a local school, A Levels and GCSE exams. 

I have given up being a Witness Service Volunteer at Croydon Crown Court after five years service.  Too harrowing.

And I read, read, read, early morning and late at night.  Somehow I still find time for a few good friends and occasional writers conference.

Did I say TV?  What is that?  Someone tell me, please.  Is it that box in the corner with a cat sitting on it?

Wow, Stella, you really ARE one busy lady! I'm exhausted just hearing about everything you get up to. I hope you take time out of your schedule for a holiday, but I suspect you're just as active when trying to relax ;-)

Thanks for stopping by for a chat and telling readers about your life away from your computer.

Readers, here's an excerpt for No Darker Heaven.

• • •

It was a case of throwing herself out of the plane or never making the jump at all. Lyssa sat with her back against the vibrating fuselage, frozen with fright, ashen-faced, staring. The plane smelled of fear. She had been mistaken about her reservoir of courage. There was little left after the last few years and this jump was going to pull at the corners.

As the plane began to roll forward across the tarmac, Lyssa pinned her thoughts firmly on Bethany and that morning's unexpected invitation. She would have to go for Bethany's sake. The child's sunny face came into mind, her dark hair flying as she ran across the playground to meet Lyssa. This will-o'-the-wisp, unfettered, sweet-smelling child of her body for whom she was going to change her whole life. Her pearl of pleasure.

"Bethany, I'm doing this for you," she breathed.

Lyssa knew it had to happen. She could not carry the burden of Bethany alone any longer. Matthew was kind and loving, the sort of man any woman would be glad to marry. And he loved her, which was surprising considering the kind of mad life she led rushing about to find locations, the stress of keeping her financial head above water, the protective blanket that Bethany needed constantly. Pity she didn't love him.

The plane turned at the end of the runway, ready for take off, and Lyssa felt her stomach heave. What if she said she felt sick? Changed her mind? Had to get off at any cost?

At any cost... that was a joke. Several thousand pounds were riding on her back at this very moment.

The training had been a challenge. She had enjoyed every moment, felt brave and everyone had said she had done well. The practice landings had gone smoothly and the procedure for leaving the aircraft was drilled into her head.

Sponsorship money had rolled in. Her colleagues at the television company were especially generous. She had been amazed as people pledged ten, twenty pounds.

"It's all for a good cause," they said. "And you've got guts, girl. I wouldn't do it for an Emmy Award."

Matthew was less enthusiastic. He had listened to her excited plans with caution. He had taken her hand across the restaurant table and squeezed it gently.

"You don't have to do this," he said. "There are other ways of raising money for RAS research."

"I haven't time," she said firmly. "I have to do it fast. Bethany hasn't the time to wait either. I'm doing it for her and you can't stop me. She always comes first."

"What about me? I shall be worried sick," he said carefully, his handsome face shadowed. "You might get hurt."

Lyssa removed her hand from his clasp and touched his dark hair. He wore it a little on the long side, brushing his collar, long dark lashes framing deep brown eyes. He was good-looking, his face unmarked by any stress. He worked as an accountant in his father's firm and the steps of promotion were marked out for him in concrete. He did not have to worry about the future.

"Don't be daft, Matthew. It's safer than crossing a road. I know what to do. I've been practising for weeks."

He sighed deeply. "I suppose nothing I say will stop you? I don't want my bride on crutches."

"Nothing will happen," said Lyssa, shaking her long reddish-tawny hair. She had been in too much of a hurry that evening to do more than brush it into a sleek tail, tied back with a chiffon scarf.

"Then I'll look after Bethany on Saturday, if that'll help. We'll go somewhere. The zoo."

"That would be wonderful. Thank you, darling. I know I can always rely on you."

Saturday saw her dressed in orange overalls, her kit inspected and passed. She joked with the others, gazed at the clear windswept expanse of wispy blue above her and did not feel connected to it. It was some other sky, some other person.

But now as the plane rumbled over the runway, gathering speed, all Lyssa's courage fled. She had left it somewhere on the ground, in her locker with all the clutter that belonged to Lyssa Pasten – single-parent, high-flying film locations manager for a television company, mother of five-year-old Bethany, who had RAS, fiancée of Matthew Arnold.

The aircraft lifted off into the air and all sensation stopped. The smoothness of the climb did nothing to settle her nerves. Nor did the noise. Everywhere inside the fuselage shook with the powerful thrust of the engines. Her stomach pitched.

"Can I change my mind?" she asked as if it was a joke, but the jumpmaster pretended not to hear her.

The doorway was open and Lyssa could see the patchwork of earth disappearing like a child's toys being cleared away. They went through a thin layer of swirling mist and cloud, then suddenly came out into the brilliant sunshine that had been there all the time. She went a shade of blind, gasped.

Would she feel as nervous on her wedding day? Not long now, only eight weeks, at St Margaret's, Westminster. A big society wedding. She hadn't even got her dress yet. And those weeks, at her frantic rate of living, was a mere flash of time. If she survived today, she thought.

One of the other jumpers gave her the thumbs up sign. She grinned back, nodded, nervously checking straps that had already been checked and rechecked.

She saw the jumpmaster coming towards her, swaying. Surely not that old-fashioned 'ladies first'? She could have done without it at this height.

He bent low and spoke against her ear. "Keep your head up and back arched. A clean exit. You'll be fine. See you in the clubhouse. First in the bar buys the drinks."

Lyssa tried to answer but her voice had deserted her. It was cowering somewhere in her boots. She couldn't remember a single thing that she was supposed to do.

He signalled to her to move to the open doorway. She stumbled forward, her boots leaden with weights. Outside the roaring gale deafened her, her overalls flattened against her body, the wings creaked like a ship at sea. Her goggles misted over then cleared. There was nothing outside. Absolutely nothing. It was space as vast as in a Star Wars film. He was saying something, but she couldn't hear.

"Go. Go! GO!"

• • •

Stella Whitelaw began writing seriously at the age of nine. She was ill with measles when her father gave her an Imperial Portable typewriter. Covered in spots, she sat up in bed and taught herself to type.

At sixteen, she became a cub reporter and worked her way up to Chief Reporter. She was the first woman Chief Reporter, the youngest, and the only one who was pregnant.

After producing a family, she became Secretary of the Parliamentary Press Gallery at the House of Commons. Secretary then meant the original meaning, Secretariat, the keeper of secrets. She was awarded an MBE in 2001 but is not sure why.

Like Trollope, she wrote books on the train and in the recesses. The Jordan Lacey PI series is her favourite and the cruise crime books. Her big romances, No Darker Heaven and Sweet Seduction, were a marathon adventure.

Stella has won a woman’s magazine national short story competition and the London Magazine’s Art of Writing competition judged by Sheridan Morley. The Elizabeth Goudge Cup was presented to her at Guildford University.

Homeless cats find their way to Stella’s lifelong hospitality and she has written eight books of cat stories for the 7 – 70 plus.

• • •

 Stella loves hearing from readers so be sure to drop her a line. You can find her online --

Stella's website - http://stellawhitelaw.co.uk
Tirgearr Publishing - http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Whitelaw_Stella

And if you want to buy a copy of No Darker Heaven, be sure to visit Stella's page at Tirgearr Publishing with all her buy links. No Darker Heaven is available for Kindle, Nook, Kobo, Sony, iTunes/iBooks, and all other readers --

--- } http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Whitelaw_Stella/no-darker-heaven.htm

Isabo Kelly: The Secret of Narava

Welcome, welcome, welcome to Isabo Kelly, author of The Naravan Chronicles . . . and many other titles. Isabo's career began fifteen years ago with the first novel in this series, The Promise of Kierna'Rhoan. To say The Secret of Narava has been a long-awaited release would be an understatement. But once you read it, you'll have to agree, it was worth the wait!

Fifteen years between these novels doesn't mean Isabo has been sitting on her hands. Indeed, the opposite is true, with award-winning titles such as Thief's Desire, Destiny's Seduction, Marshall's Guard, and others, including her most recent stellar fantasy romance, Brightarrow Burning.

One thing's for sure, Isabo can come up with some wonderful titles. And her stories? {fanning self} Hot hotties abound!

The Secret of Narava takes place on the planet Narava, in a galaxy far, far from Earth, in a future time that introduces us to other species and cultures in glorious technicolor. Yet, as futuristic as The Secret of Narava appears on the surface, a real life plot will pull readers in and make them feel as if they're right there with the characters. Case in point, this story is set around an archaeological dig on Narava, something Earthlings are well-familiar with. When an anomaly is spotted in the data, Dr. Ti'ann Jones and Dr. Krin Freemont are stunned at the findings and decide to call in re-enforcements to help secure the site. Only, the leader of the new security team, Nathan Longfeather, sends the normally focused Ti'ann into a tailspin. You see, she'd had a short-lived but galactically stellar love affair with the man a few years back. Worse, he doesn't remember her.

As the story unfolds, readers will find themselves beside Ti'ann and Nathan as they discover what this anomaly means and re-discover what Ti'ann thought was lost years before.

Is The Secret of Narava a futuristic with romantic elements or a romance based in futuristic times? That can only be decided by the reader. Either way, if you love science with your romance, or romance with your science, you'll get this story in spades. The building heat between Ti'ann and Nathan will have you squeezing your knees together and screaming, "Just kiss him already!" while at the same time letting yourself be pulled headlong into the dig and what the secret of Narava really is!

I caught up with Isabo recently and chatted about her book, and everything else we could think of. And you know me by now. I want to know more about where authors work, so I asked Isabo --

Thanks for sitting and chatting with me, Isabo. As usual, what begins as a quick chat turned into a grand auld chinwag! So, the readers want to know what your writing space is like. What is the space like where you create your stories?

My couch! LOL. Actually, for the most part, I do sit on the couch in my living room working on my netbook. This is a super comfortable, fluffy couch. I’m surrounded by bookshelves. And at night—when I usually write—it’s quiet and I can dim the lights or have them bright. Whatever suits. When I feel the need to sit at my desk—which doesn’t happen often for actual writing these days—my desk is set in a little nitch just outside my living room. It’s cluttered, has a bunch of books, knick-knacks and my printer along the top, things stuffed into the cubby holes, and a big big monitor to work on. Also, the sliding draw that usually houses the keyboard and mouse is broken so those are up on the desk too. There are stacks of papers and binders sitting on the edges of the desk and a few pictures of my son set up in front of the books on the top part. But I mostly use the desk computer to do business work—promotion, emails, etc… When I write, the only “space” I need is my laptop which goes with me whereever I need it to.

I love, love, love my laptop, too. Where's my writing space? Anywhere I can take Old Red! ;-)

So, do you have a daily writing routine? If so, what's it like?

Before my son starts preschool (my baby is about to start school!), I work late nights, from 10pm to 1 or 2am after the house goes to sleep. If I need to, I do some work during the day so long as my son cooperates with mommy being distracted. And if I’m really behind, I let my husband have a “guys” day with my son while I sneak off to write a little. Once my boy starts school, though, I’ll shift my working hours to the mornings, 8:30am to 1:30pm. Late nights during the week will probably be limited since I’ll have to get up early with the boy to put him on the bus, and I am not a morning person.

Oh, you poor thing! First born off to his first day of school. After five years, I'm sure that apron string is well-knotted. Just think of all the new friends he's going to make and all the stories he'll come home with.

So, aside from trying not to stress over a child starting school, what do you enjoy doing when you're not writing? Not that stressing over children at school is fun ;-)

Oh lots! Of course, I love nothing better than curling up with a good book. But I also love crewel and cross-stitch, baking, sudoku, majong, playing with my son, going to sporting events with my husband and son, yoga, and taking really long walks (I’m a walking madwoman). I love getting the chance to go to museums, zoos, and Broadway shows here in NYC. I very much enjoy visiting with my friends, either dinner out or an evening in with a bottle of wine. I love swimming, though I don’t get a chance to do that as often as I’d like. And I adore traveling. We travel as much as we’re able. My son is so used to flying at only 4 years old, it’s all I can do to keep him from running down the gangway as soon as the doors open for our flights! Actually, I might have too many hobbies. This would explain why I don’t get bored. Ever. LOL.

You sound like me . . . better to be busy than bored! You certainly have enough on your plate to keep from being bored.

Thanks for taking some time to chat with us about what it's like on your side of the writing . . . your real life.

Readers may enjoy an excerpt from The Secret of Narava.

• • •

As she walked down the rocky path leading from the lifts to the campsite, she pulled out her memo tablet and called up the list of elements making up the anomaly. Puzzling through the strange mixture of molecules, she only looked up and noticed her surroundings when she heard a hesitant cough. 

Blinking, she realized she’d reached the very edge of the camp and had nearly walked right past Krin. She started to smile.
 
Until she spotted the man next to Krin.
 
Her breath locked in her throat. She froze, unable to move or think or speak. Even when Krin stepped forward and made the introductions, several heartbeats passed before what he said worked its way into her brain.
 
“He’s the man I was telling you about,” Krin said, a note of hesitance in his voice.
 
She pressed her lips together to keep her mouth from dropping open and focused on Krin.
 
“Dr. Jones,” he continued, despite the creases marring his smooth forehead, “this is Nathan Longfeather. He’s agreed to assist us with our security issues.”
 
Ti’ann nodded and was about to say they’d met before when a deep and, unfortunately, well-remembered voice said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Jones.”
 
Her gaze snapped around, locking with his dusky, green-amber eyes.
 
He didn’t remember her.
 
She saw it in his expression, as plainly as if he’d pulled a knife out and shown it to her before plunging it into her gut. Oh god, he didn’t have any idea who she was.
 
She suppressed the sudden tremors sneaking up her body and sucked in her top lip, pressing it hard with her teeth.
 
When he extended a hand at the introduction, she took it but pulled away from the warmth of his big palm with a jerk. She couldn’t look him in the eyes, but letting her gaze wander over the rest of his face didn’t help either.
 
He looked exactly how she remembered him—strong, high cheekbones; sharp, broad nose; sensuously firm lips on a wide mouth; smooth brown-red skin.
 
His straight black hair hung nearly to his waist, almost as long as her own. The top was held back from his face by a small braid.
 
His broad shoulders and narrow hips hinted at a temptingly masculine physique. Though, through his loose trousers and flight jacket, a person would have to guess at the degree of muscle and strength.
 
Unless that person had seen him out of his clothes.
 
Ti’ann’s mouth dried at the memory.

• • •

Diggity! My mouth just dried at the memory of reading this book the first time. Nathan is . . . well, very desirable. You'll have to read the book to find out just what his story is . . . the man behind the smooth composure, the long weekend in bed with Ti'ann and his memory issues.

There is more than one secret on Narava! Grab this book and discover them all for yourself.

• • •

Isabo grew up in Las Vegas, the Entertainment Capital of the World. Unbeknownst to her, Las Vegas prepared Isabo for a life in the spotlight.

Though she started making up stories at an early age, Isabo originally chose science as her first career. She pursued this by moving to Honolulu, Hawaii for her undergraduate degree in Zoology and was lucky enough to work with dolphins for two and a half years.

Returning to Las Vegas, Isabo worked in the Natural History Museum as the Shark Lady, hand-feeding live sharks and other tropical fish and reptiles. It was at this time she rekindled her love of writing stories and started her first novel.

A few years later, Isabo had the opportunity to move to Germany with her family and jumped at the chance. She spent nearly two years traveling Europe and developing her writing skills before life took her to Ireland where she returned to college to finish her Ph.D. in Animal Behavior.

Isabo's first novel, The Promise of Kierna'Rhoan, was published in 1999 and began her career in the spotlight. Isabo earned herself a reputation as one of the industry's top science fiction, fantasy and paranormal authors with such titles as Destiny's Seduction (2005 RIO Award of Excellent winner, 2005 EPPIE Award Finalist for Best Fantasy and 2003 Pearl Award Nominee) and Siren Singing (2009 PRISM FF&P Award Winner).

Isabo now lives in New York City, an other entertainment capital, with her family and enjoying the literary life. 

• • •

Isabo loves hearing from readers so be sure to drop her a line. You can find her online --

Isabo's website - http://www.isabokelly.com
Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/IsaboKelly
Twitter - http://www.twitter.com/isabokelly
Isabo's blog: Isabo Kelly Rambles - http://www.isabokellyrambles.blogspot.com
Tirgearr Publishing - http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Kelly_Isabo

And if you want to buy a copy of The Secret of Narava, be sure to visit Isabo's page at Tirgearr Publishing with all her buy links. The Secret of Narava is available for Kindle, Nook, Kobo, Sony, iTunes/iBooks, and all other readers --

--- } http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Kelly_Isabo/the-secret-of-narava.htm

And don't forget to check out Isabo's upcoming titles, Interface (Naravan Chronicals short) and Christmas Present!