My New Cover...Check It Out!

Look at this beautiful cover for my new release, Byzantine Provocateur. Isn't it pretty? Trace Edward Zaber, the artist, really captures the essence of my story.



Byzantine will be out on March 6. Stay tuned for more information.

Decorum, please...

As a writer, I love to people watch. To me there is just something fascinating about looking at people as they walk by, adrift in their own world. I wonder where they are going, who they might be meeting...a lover, a child, a friend...perhaps they're a criminal informant, hurrying to meet their handler. Or maybe...I digress. What I mean to say is, that while I love to watch people and speculate about what's going on in their lives, as soon as they start to tell the world about it, it's over. Spell broken.

I'm sitting at the bus stop the other morning, minding my own business, when a young couple with their two small children join me. I start to wonder from the backpacks if they are off on field trip of some sort or maybe to the pediatrician for check ups...my usual habit. Then she opens her mouth. And what comes out had me feeling terribly sorry for those kids and the guy.

Imaginarians, she starts going on about his performance in the bedroom the previous night and how he could not get it up. The thud I heard was the poor fellow's jaw hitting the ground along with my own. Now see, if I had just seen her gesticulating from a distance, I would have imagined some kind of argument, but the fact that I had to hear the actual words in her nasaly voice? Holy hell, I have never prayed so hard for a bus to come. Yes, I thought about walking to the next stop, but with my luck, I would be at the halfway point when the thing would have driven right past me.

I people watch, not people listen. I do not want to know their actual business. Do these people not care that they are polluting the air with their dirty laundry? I guess not. Another incident, I was at the mall, casually watching a guy in a loud suit, wondering who in God's name made that when I hear..."Tanya's motherfucking pregnant, dumb ass." Silence fell faster than Lindsey Lohan's career, all eyes zeroed in on the speaker. My head whipped over my shoulder to see two guys standing across the way, one all dressed like a gangsta rapper, the other in a KFC uniform. As if that verbal grenade weren't enough, they started to argue over who was the father, right there in the River Oaks Mall food court. Oh Tanya, whoever you are, your child is facing an uphill battle considering half it's DNA comes from Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber.

No sense of decorum at all. There must be a short in some people's brains when they get out in public. I've been on the train and been privy to cell phone conversations discussing disease progression, who slept with who, how ugly someone's new girl is, how great someone is at oral sex, etc. The list is just endless.

Dear Santa, please bring me an iPod so I don't have to listen anymore.

New Release: Claire DeLune by Robert Appleton and Sloane Taylor

ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-011-5 (Electronic)
ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-995-8 (Paperback)
Amber Quill Press – Amber Heat

BUY LINK

Yours truly has been brimming over with excitement because two of the most awesome writers out there, Robert Appleton and Sloane Taylor, have combined their writing genius to create one wicked cool story. Claire De Lune is now available and I cannot wait to have this in my hot little hands. I was torn between downloading the e-book right freaking now or exercising some restraint and waiting for the paperback which drops later this month. Well Imaginarians, I have decided to go with restraint. There is nothing better than having the actual paperback book in one 's hands. But for now, I have an awesome little excerpt here to tantalize you. In the meantime, check out both of these incredibly talented writers at their respective sites. Click here to visit sci fi writer Robert Appleton. Visit erotica writer Sloane Taylor's site here.

In the meantime here is that rockin' excerpt I told you about. Enjoy!

BLURB:
You’re invited to the galaxy’s most prestigious beauty pageant. Clothing optional. Romance and danger…fully provided…

Cocky young detectives Gerry Rappeneau and Sebastian Thorpe-Campbell arrive at the premier lunar resort expecting a week of eye candy and long massages. With a half-billion-credit purse up for grabs, this year’s pageant is the focus of a hundred worlds. And beauty isn’t the only thing in the eye of the beholder.

One contestant, Evelyn Lyons, is attacked and her assailant killed. Surely a simple case of a stalker gone mad, as nothing bad ever happens at the Selene contest. So the brochure says.

The closer Gerry gets to Evelyn, the more he is convinced she’s hiding something. His meticulous character sparks with her wild, sassy nature, and they embark on a torrid affair. Their forbidden romance isn’t the only thing set to ignite in Pont de Reves.

Sebastian’s infatuation with demure Claire Villiers, another contestant, threatens to put all four of them in harm’s way.

A deadly trail of corporate conspiracy, monstrous assassins and hot bikini wax is more than anyone bargained for in this incendiary erotic mystery. Get ready for some serious heat on the dark side of the moon.

EXCERPT:
…Evelyn glared across at Van der Sands, her grey eyes metallic and sharp. Busy placing the new drinks order, the banker didn’t notice her.

“He’s a son of a bitch.” Evelyn retrieved a white business card and a ballpoint pen from her purse. She wrote on the back and slid it to Gerry.

He swallowed hard as he read, Clean the bastard out & I’ll sleep with you tonight.

She let her hands fall loose at her side, unmasking her face. Gerry’s first thought was one of easy acquiescence. Whatever she wanted! If this was the start of some kind of saucy foreplay, why the hell not? Then he watched the curious game within the game unfold.

A few slow-burning fireworks started the show. Sly glances between her and Van der Sands; the brunette girl with fleeting yet repeated eye contact; Evelyn whistling a tune. Subtle—but the shared air was definitely combustible. What was going on among the three of them? And what did she have against her old boss?

He slipped the card into his pocket. The drinks arrived and Van der Sands made sure everyone was ready to resume. “Le jeux est fait. Un banco de quatre cent mille.”

The CEO wasn’t messing around. High stakes, just like the previous round. Gerry might have backed off—four hundred thousand was two fifths of his total allowance for the night—but Evelyn’s note and the bizarre charades had already piqued his interest. “Banco,” he announced.

Van der Sands dealt him two quick cards and a lengthy, probing stare. Gerry matched the latter. At first the man had seemed indifferent, almost petty about the game of baccarat. Now there was fiery curiosity in his eyes, as though he needed to know who this blond opponent was and why Gerry was in league with her. He thought of it as dick-measuring by proxy. Neither man knew the other, but they had become tacit rivals by association with the same beautiful woman.

A seven and a two—a natural nine. A great first hand. Gerry tapped his cards, signifying he didn’t want another. Van der Sands would now have to err on the side of risk.

He drew a nine and a five. A score of four. To get close to nine, he had to risk another card.

The croupier flipped an ace. “Cinq a la banque.”

Gerry nudged Evelyn’s arm before arrogantly tossing his cards face up into the center.

“Monsieur Rappeneau wins.” The croupier retrieved the cards and awarded Gerry his chips.

The brunette congratulated him with an approving nod and a silent clap. Her black elbow-length gloves added to her mystique. Evelyn, boasting a mischievous grin, stroked his thigh under the table, edging dangerously close to his dick. His next sip of Mackison competed with a gasp. He covered his mouth. It was all he could do to stop a mouthful of beverage showering the green baize. Evelyn’s hand had strayed into sensitive territory. He didn’t know whether to yank it away or shove it deeper into his crotch.

“Keep it up,” she whispered in his ear. “And that goes for your winnings, too. Tonight, I’m gonna screw your brains out.”

Jesus Christ! His hold on propriety slipped like an eel through soapy rubber gloves. The casino grew close. Stifling. Evelyn grabbed his crotch and massaged the tip of his erection. He gave another gasp. The brunette watched him through the prism of her glass while she sipped her Malibu. The way those sensuous black gloves contrasted with her white arms and shoulders… Oh, God! He glanced down at Evelyn’s breathtaking tits. His hand shaking, he took a large swig of Mackison. It helped. Only for a moment. Evelyn moved in close and placed her hand on his shoulder. She gave him a look so serious and seductive he felt his erotic self tumbling into her cleavage. Somebody…help.

“Un banco de trois cent mille.”

The Australian answered, “Banco.”

Gerry wrenched himself to his feet. He regained the wherewithal to kiss Evelyn’s cheek before stuttering, “Excuse me. Shan’t be a minute,” to the other startled players. Breathing a long, shivery sigh on his way to the restroom, he tripped on a step and almost bulldozed a waitress into her trolley of snacks.

“Good God.” He locked the men’s room door behind him. “She’s an animal. I’m dating a goddamn wild animal…”

Maxie Briscoe Contest Winner

Over Halloween, I held a contest for a giveaway of my latest, Maxie Briscoe: Werewolf. Things got horrendously crazy hereabouts with a deadline, a science fair project, the Thanksgiving Holiday and about a hundred other issues. So I am posting the winner here now.

Congratulations Dempsey Sanders!!!!!!

Dempsey, I profoundly apologize for not posting this much sooner. Please email me at melbwrites@gmail.com to let me know where I can send you your prize.

Being Thankful

It's Turkey Day here in the States and I have a lot to be thankful for this year.

1. My family, without whose love and support I would be lost. I know I drive them nuts, so I'm especially grateful. My mom, who never gives up on me and is always there to listen, to hug and whatever else I need. My sisters who are always ready to help, to encourage and to give me a reality check. My brothers, Alan and Gary, I irritate them and they probably wonder when I'm going to get it together, but I can always,always count on them. My brother-in-law, whose humor gets me laughing no matter what and who is a great listener. My sister-in-law, a rock and a drill sergeant who always gives me unquestioning support, but doesn't hesitate to give me a swift kick when I need one. My nephews, who love their Auntie Moe without question and who always make me laugh and help me keep things in perspective.

2. My friends, whose encouragement, loyalty and humor never waiver. Without them, I... Well, I shudder to think what my life would be like without them.

3. My crit partners, who have made me a better writer by sharing their knowledge and who always keep me on track when I'm going off the deep end. I would not be the writer I am without them.

4. All of you out there. You are my extended support network and without you, I would not be the same writer. Your support of me and my stories is incredible and I cannot thank you enough.

I wish all of you peace, joy and many, many blessings. Thank you!

BOO!! It's All Hallow's Eve

At last, at last it's All Hallow's Eve, Halloween, Samhain for all my Celtic and Wiccan friends out there. Time for trick or treating, scary movies, haunted houses, ghost stories and fun with family and friends. So get your monster on and have a great time.

Samhain, pronounced 'sa uin, is the Celtic festival marking the end of the lighter half of the year and the beginning of the darker one. It also is a time to celebrate the dead, as certain Celtic traditions hold that the veil between this world and the next is at its thinnest, allowing the dead to cross back into the living world they once inhabited. It is the custom in some areas of Ireland and Scotlnd to set a place for the dead at the Samhain feast.

Bonfires played an important part, with people and their livestock walking between two fires as a purification ritual. With the bonfires lit, in some villages all other fires were extinguished, to be re-lit from these communal fires.

Samhain is also the Celtic New Year and divination was considered a primary part of the celebration. Seasonal foods, apples and nuts, were used to determine one's future spouse, state of marriage, how many children and location of future home. An apple was peeled and the peel tossed over the shoulder to see if the first letter of one's future spouse could be determined. Unsure about your marriage? Nuts were roasted in the the heart and their movements watched.If they stayed together,then so would the couple. Egg whites were dropped in a glass of water and the shapes interpreted to see the number of children a couple would have.

Masks were worn to ward off evil spirits. Masks would hide the identity of the living and keep them safe from the evil spirits that had crossed over. In Scotland, young men wore veiled or blackened faces and dressed in white to impersonate the dead.

In celebration of my favorite night of the year, I'm giving away a free download of my latest story, an erotic menage tale called Maxie Briscoe: Werewolf. This is erotic, so if you're NOT 18, DO NOT ENTER. To enter, simply leave a comment. I'll post the winner here tomorrow. Here's a little excerpt...

Synopsis

The name's Maxie Briscoe and I am a werewolf…

That’s right, a real live, full moon-loving, Halloween icon. It’s hard out here for girl like me. To survive, I hide my true self and act the part of a normal human, all while discreetly indulging the Beast within. Talk about walking a narrow ledge. And that’s not even the worst part. Sex is. You see I can bench press a pick-up truck and that spells disaster in the bedroom. You can’t have any real fun knowing you might accidentally crush a lover while in the throes. Kind of kills the mood.

When a friend’s murder shatters the careful existence I’ve carved out, I come face to face with Damien and Noah, two of the hottest men I’ve ever laid eyes on. They are also the first werewolves I’ve run across since my conversion. The attraction is instant, but complicated, the sex… explosive.

Too bad there’s a killer out there with his sights on me …

Excerpt

Here's Maxie looking for a little fun at the club with her friend


I scan the crowd, checking for some possible action. Men are
like parts of a cow, really. First you have your obvious top
sirloin—men who are cut and fit, with lots of stamina, confidence
and great personality. Then you got your round steak—guys who
can keep up, but are a little too much on the beta side of things.
Rump roasts are your basic teddy bears…cute geeks and others
who’ll let you do whatever you want to them because they can’t
believe they’re going home with you. Finally, you got your ground
chuck. You know the type: total dorks, octopuses, Hoovers who
suck your face off when they kiss. These are guys you don’t even
want to think about until you’ve had four or five shots of tequila
and a Jagermeister chaser.

My eyes alight on two definite cuts of sirloin.

“Oh. My. Gawd. Would you look at the guns on that one?”

Tori’s high-pitched tones shock my ears like turning on the
radio after forgetting the volume is set on high. She is looking right
at one of my targets, damn her. A low, territorial growl rumbles in
my throat.

“Easy, Max.” Drea touches my arm, the gesture helping me
rein in my baser urge to shove Tori into the nearest wall as I
assert the fact that I have first dibs. Did I mention my dominance
issues? I turn to glare at my friend, only to see her little sister move
forward out of the corner of my eye. The little bitch.

My Favorite Horror Authors

I talked about my favorite scary movies,now I'm going to talk about my favorite horror writers. These guys paint chilling, vivid, blood-curdling images with their words. no f/x masters here, only a keyboard or pen and paper. I double dog dare any of you out there to read one of their stories and not be afraid of every noise you hear in the night.

Stephen King - What can I say about a man who is responsible for a lot of my nightmares? My werewolf fixation started with his "Cycle of the Werewolf". I kept looking twice at the grumpy priest in my church. Salem's Lot had me terrified of my dad's home town, but the worst for me was The Girl Who loved Tom Gordon. I do not like the woods and I had such a hard time getting through this book. I own it, but refuse to read it ever again. He is terrifying to me because he works on your mind, he takes normal people and breaks them down like a maniacal crew attacking stage sets.

Rick R. Reed - Oh my God, can we say hide under the covers and never come out? King breaks people, but Reed stomps them into quivering little bits under his crazed boot heels. Do not read Penance after dark, I'm warning you. It is horrifying because it has it's basis in the harsh realities of street life. Every page I wanted to stop, but couldn't. I was put through the wringer, at times scared, other times uncomfortable, sometimes angry. In the Blood is a twisted, heart-pounding vampire tale that makes you remember in these days of sparkly blood suckers that vamps are indeed monsters. His most recent, Blue Moon Cafe, ramps up the terror with werewolves. I read this in the daylight and you should, too. Rick Reed knows how to get into the minds of monsters both human and non.

Caitlin Kiernan - Holy hell can this chick bring on some serious monsters. After I read Silk, I was jumping at shadows. She subverts reality and twists it into unrecognizable images. The Red Tree left me with a creepy dread feeling for days after that I just couldn't shake. Man, did I have the nightmares.

Edgar Allen Poe - No one spins a nightmarish tale better than this man. His prose defines madness and suffering. "The Cask of Amontillado", "The Tell-Tale Heart", "The Fall of the House of Usher", all give me the shivers. I cannot read them at night.

Shirley Jackson - This woman reaches deep inside and knows what terrifies you the most. Best haunted house story of all time, The Haunting of Hill House. I had a hard time sleeping in my room after this one. Every sound echoed a thousand times louder. "The Lottery" made me want to avoid small towns forever.

Clive Barker - His novellas and short stories are insanely gruesome and demented. I had a tough time getting through the Books of Blood, both volumes. He creates such terrifying and twisted realms that you feel like you're going crazy right along with the protagonists.

These authors make my blood run cold and send me running to turn on every light. Who are some of your faves?