Books

A double whammy of awesome news! First, the fourth book in the Compass series came out on Monday.

TRUE NORTH has the hottest mess hero I’ve ever written, and is a second chance redemption romance. When Slade Lewis first appeared in PERSONAL GEOGRAPHY, I did not like him. And what was there to like? He made my heroine cry and generally behaved as a douche canoe (Amy Jo Cousins has also called him “a walking dumpster fire of awful”). However, when he showed up again in INTIMATE GEOGRAPHY, I started asking myself questions (as writers are wont to do–it’s a sickness), like why was he such a turd blossom? And, was he actually as much of a jizztrumpet as he appeared to be?

Down this path lies madness–or if you’re a writer, another book. Which is how TRUE NORTH was born. I hope you’ll enjoy reading about Slade’s redemption as much as I enjoyed making him earn it (the subtitle of this book could be Slade, Stop Being An A$$hole). And for fans of Reyes Walter, he plays a rather large part in this book and Matty/Matthew, India and Cris also get cameos.

Four months ago, Slade Lewis got to fulfill his wildest, long-repressed BDSM fantasies during a one-night stand. Since then, getting more has been the only thing on his mind.

When Slade manages to earn the keys to Reyes Walter’s kinky kingdom, he finds himself face-to-face with none other than Pressly Allwyn, the pearl-bedecked love of his life whom he pushed into divorce six years ago.

Now she’s back, and the fetish he was afraid would drive them apart instead draws them together. They indulge in their common kink together, but past hurts and old insecurities complicate any relationship outside their erotic exploits. Caught between the worlds of hot-button politics and even hotter bedroom games, Pressly and Slade will have to decide how far they’re willing to go for a second chance at happily ever after.

TRUE NORTH is available for purchase everywhere NOW:

Amazon iBooks Barnes & Noble

Google Play KoboAll Romance eBooks

And now for the second piece of awesomeness! I’m participating in the Midsummer Romance Rescue, which is a way for you, dear reader, to get your hands on a ton of FREE romances from some of your fave (and soon-to-be-fave) authors. With 50+ authors participating, there’s something for everyone! My contribution is PERSONAL GEOGRAPHY, the first book in the Compass series.

Click on over to the Midsummer Romance Rescue homepage, or directly to the links for your preferred e-reader. Hurry though because these books are only FREE for one day!

Kindle iPad/iPhone Nook

Android Kobo

Happy Reading!

For the First Time is a USA Today Bestseller!!!

Thank you to everyone who purchased a copy of For the First Time. Our anthology made the USA Today Bestseller list, and I couldn’t be happier!

I feel so fortunate to have been invited to be part of this project, organized by the incomparable Skye Warren, and I hope that Astrid and Kinsey are finding their way into readers’ hearts. Looking for a Complication was so much fun to write and gave me a chance to try out something a little different.

You can still get your copy of this bestselling romance collection at Amazon,B&N, iBooks, kobo, or Google Play, but not for much longer!

You never forget your first time…

A brand new anthology of original, never-before-read stories from today’s hottest authors, including:

Alessandre Torre, Kim Karr, Jen Frederick, Alexa Riley, Lynda Chance, Sarah Castille, Nina Lane, CJ Roberts, Anna Zaires, Nikki Sloane, Cynthia Sax, Avery Aster, Pam Godwin, Skye Warren, Julia Sykes, Cynthia Rayne, Jenika Snow, Debra Presley, Shoshanna Evers, Tamsen Parker, and Nina Levine!

From young heartbreak to a virginity auction, from the chance meeting to the happily ever after, twenty-one exclusive stories explore first love in all its forms. This set includes almost 200,000 words of steamy encounters and sweet romance.

Personal Geography is out in Audio!

I’ve been sitting on this news for a long time, but it’s finally out in the world, so audio lovers rejoice. And I’ve heard a rumor Audible’s been having a half-off sale on romance in honor of Valentine’s day so now’s a perfect time to pick up the first book in the Compass series. Intimate Geography and Uncharted Territory to follow!

You can purchase Personal Geography now on Amazon, Audible, and the Insatiable website.

If you liked Astrid and Kinsey in Looking for a Complication and would like to read more F/F romance, I’ve got good news for you! The wonderful Chasia Lloyd is hosting F/February on her blog. A whole month of author interviews (including one with yours truly!) and books recs. It’s going to be F/Fabulous!

GIVEAWAYS!

I’m running THREE fabulous giveaways right now. One on my Facebook page to celebrate ONE THOUSAND Likes; one for subscribers to my newsletter, and one as part of #ValentinesRewind. Check them all out and enter to your hearts’ content. So many great prizes from lots of wonderful authors!

Welcome to the first stop  on the #ValentinesRewind hop! Thank you so much for joining us. You can find the whole schedule here. For my contribution, I’m revisiting Elan and Tzipporah from Craving Flight. I hope you enjoy this extra tidbit from their life together. Happy Valentine’s Day!

♥♥♥♥♥

Mirroring the sweltering July heat outside, I’m feeling warm and glowy in the aftermath of Shabbos with the Kleins. They’ve been friendlier and I think Shira and I are on our way to a genuine friendship, but on most Saturdays, I still leave their home after havdalah feeling more keyed up than one should after a day of rest.

The ritual is supposed to mark the return to the everyday from the Sabbath. While I suppose I should be sad to see the end of the holy time, more often I’m relieved to return to the space I feel most comfortable in: the home I’ve made with my husband, where it’s just the two of us and we have a quiet understanding of each other that covers a deep well of passion and love.

Apparently though, pregnancy is a game changer. Climbing our stairs, I still hear the choruses of “beshaah tovah!” ringing in my ears. We waited until I was about four months along to say anything out of caution—pretty much until anyone would know if they cared to look at my waistline.

Telling Elan’s family was in some ways easier than my own. I’ve always preferred the more restrained wish—that all proceed in good time—to the exuberant congratulations and mazel tovs of my parents and siblings. And now I get to hold on to the sound of the entire Klein clan bestowing those good wishes upon us and our unborn child.

Elan’s mother especially has never shone a spotlight of delighted approval on me like that. It had been unnerving. Though I escaped mucking things up before we’d wished everyone a good week and taken our leave, I still wonder…how soon will it be until I do something to flip the switch and end up in the dark again?

What’s more unnerving has been Elan’s silence on the walk home. I’m usually comfortable in his stillness. I used to think of my husband as a bear, and sometimes in the bedroom I still do. More often though I’ve come to think of him as a tree: steady, sturdy, a welcoming shelter. When the winds of the outside world of the university and our families blow hard and I feel as though I could be carried away on gusts of emotions, I have only to seek him out; lean against the trunk of his body and feel the branches of his arms wrap around me and then everything seems so much simpler. He doesn’t have to say a word for that to be true.

Most of the time, he simply feels as though he doesn’t have anything to say. Which has meant I’ve become an expert at reading his unspoken language: the drawing together of his brows, the tone of a grunt, the clench of his bearded jaw. I’ve come to speak Elan fluently over the past ten months, and it’s that secret language that’s telling me something’s off.

Even in his deepest quietude, I can feel his awareness of me. Sometimes lightly, like when he’s doing his learning or we’re in public. Other times—my favorite times—his attention is so heavy it’s like a physical weight; bearing down on me, restraining me, holding and keeping me.

Tonight his typical solemn expression is verging on broody. I itch to touch him but I won’t until we’re inside our apartment. As soon as we’re standing in the hallway and have divested ourselves of shoes, we head straight to the bedroom as usual and I wait on the threshold for instructions. A private Saturday night ritual after sharing the Sabbath with others.

As soon as I step over that slim piece of wood, I belong to him. The surrender is usually soothing but tonight the fluttering in my chest is more from confusion and wariness than from anticipation. What’s on his mind?

I’d usually watch as he makes his way around the room getting the tools of his trade together, fantasize about what he might be planning for me, focus on what is now instead of what has been and what will be. Tonight I can’t escape the past, and I replay the day in my mind—where did things go wrong?

It can’t be the shop because he’s had nothing to do with it since Friday afternoon. And if he were fretting about that, he would’ve told me.

Maybe an argument with one of his brothers? But I hadn’t heard more raised voices than usual from where Moyshe, Dovid, Elan, and the other men were discussing this morning’s services.

No, he’d been perfectly fine until we’d told his family that I’m pregnant. Although that’s not quite right…he’d puffed up like a proud papa bear, a rare public smile on his face, seemingly basking in the baby-glow just like me, and then—

“Come here, Tzipporah.”

His voice startles me and I try to analyze his tone but he doesn’t leave me much time, pointing to the floor in front of him.

I kneel at his feet, cast my gaze down and wait. His fingers come to my tichels and he unfastens the brooch I’d used to hold the scarves in place—bright yellows and greens to mirror my joy. He unwinds them carefully, methodically, and I soak in his attention. He’s not so distracted anymore. And when his thick fingers weave through the freed tresses, I practically purr. It’s one of my favorite sensations in the whole world.

I look at him then, wanting to see his face, the way he looks at me with such devotion. But instead of that token that I take such comfort in, he looks sad; the skin around his eyes tight and his full mouth slightly pursed. They read like a reluctant SOS, a silent cry for solace.

“Master…if I…may I…”

“What is it?”

A vague question about whether he’s okay will only result in an affirmation and him trying to cover up whatever hints he thinks he might be dropping. I need to be specific. And though it makes my heart ache, because I’ll be devastated if what I fear is true, I am.

“Are you…” I roll my lips between my teeth and bite. “Are you sorry about the baby?”

His features contort into ridges of something close to outrage, softened by concern. “No. Not at all. I couldn’t be happier that we’re going to have a family. Why would you say such a thing, little bird?”

His hand slips from where it’s been caressing my hair down to glide the pad of his thumb over my cheek and my lips. I kiss and nip at the pad, darting my tongue out to take a tiny lick. He tastes like comfort. And when he takes his thumb away and looks at me with those dark imploring eyes, I have to brave the words.

“You seem preoccupied. Have since we’ve been at Moyshe’s. And I thought…”

It surprises me when Elan sinks to his own knees and cradles my face in both his hands.

“You pay too much attention sometimes.”

We have a smile for each other, and I feel my cheeks heat under his touch. Sometimes is accurate. I’m just as flighty as I’ve ever been, though I’ve come up with some new tricks in the kitchen and have been better in my observances. But yes, there are things I analyze until the words stop meaning anything.

He leans forward to kiss my forehead, his beard rubbing against the skin, making me wish for the touch of the bristly softness elsewhere. All in time.

When he pulls away again, he glides his hands down my neck, over my shoulders, all the way to my hands, which he takes in his own.

“I’m so happy that we’re having a baby, Tzipporah. That Hashem has seen fit to bless us with a child. Full stop, no qualifications. Do you believe me?”

Elan doesn’t have an ounce of artifice anywhere in that enormous body of his, so, “Yes, I do.”

He studies me and then tips his head, his eyebrows drawing together in a question before it even comes out of his mouth. “But?”

“But there’s something.” I know there is.

Looking away, the gears in his mind seem to turn slowly. I hope he can trust me enough to share whatever’s bothering him. Let me have enough patience to wait him out, to prove my fortitude, that I can be what he needs.

After a few minutes during which the thoughts in my brain are swirling and drifting like the insides of a down pillow destroyed, he looks me in the eyes again. “I don’t want to upset you.”

“You not talking to me upsets me the most.”

“Ah, yes. My little scholar, always needing answers.”

If we were in a different room in the house, I’d stick my tongue out at him. But in here it doesn’t seem quite right. Instead, I say please.

It looks as though it pains him, but eventually he gives in. “Come, then.”

He helps me to my feet and I trail him over to the bed where he climbs up, leans against the headboard, and pats his thigh. Once I’m settled on his lap, my head resting against his shoulder and my fingertips grazing his chest over his hard-beating heart, he takes a deep breath.

“Rivka…”

Rivka? What does his first wife have to do with this? He must feel me go rigid in his arms because he begins to backpedal.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned her.”

I sit up so he can see the earnestness shaping my face. “You can. I was just surprised. You don’t talk about her often.” Hardly ever, in fact.

“I’m not supposed to.”

Elan chooses his words with such care that I can hardly believe he said that, like maybe the muttered words escaped before he could think better of it.

“Why not?”

“Rabbi Horowitz. He… Well, he…”

“Told you not to talk about her?”

“He said I shouldn’t make you feel bad. That you might worry you weren’t enough for me. Especially in the early days. I shouldn’t compare you because I’d make you upset.” His voice is gruff with reluctance and a note of defensiveness and his face is pinched in a frown. To be fair, it’s not as though I chat about Brooks and our failed marriage over breakfast. It was almost a silent pact between Elan and me, that we’d leave our first spouses out of this marriage so there would be only two of us instead of four.

“It would make me feel badly if you talked about her constantly, but you wouldn’t do that. I know you loved her and you must miss her. Things probably remind you of her all the time.” We still live in the apartment they shared, after all, though I do think of it as ours now. “She was a big part of your life for a long time and you shouldn’t feel as though you have to erase her.”

He grunts, a small conceding noise.

“Tell me, please.”

“It was difficult tonight.” He holds onto a breath for too long, as if he’s trying to determine if he has enough air to last through this confession. “Listening to my family. They’re so happy for us. And Rivka…never got to hear those words. She stood by while Shira and Mazal bore child after child. It hurt her. And tonight…no one said it directly, but I could feel it in the air. Finally. Finally Elan has a wife who will make him a father. And I hurt for Rivka.”

I think sometimes because he’s unobtrusive and subdued that people think my husband has no feelings. That he’s as impermeable to emotion as the boulder he appears to be. But in truth, he’s excruciatingly sensitive. Perhaps that’s one reason he’s so good at these bedroom games we play: he reacts to the smallest change in the atmosphere.

Suddenly I ache for them both, and I hold tight to Elan, grip his jacket between my fingers and crane my neck to kiss his cheek at the border of his beard.

“Oh, Elan.” I don’t think he wants an apology—he’s not angry, just sad. I’ll give him space to miss her while trying to make it clear that I’m very much here, very much alive, and very much devoted to him.

We sit in silence for minutes, him lost in thought and me hoping that listening has made him feel better.

“You know you can ask me about her too.”

His statement is laced with uncertainty like he’s handing me a gift he put a lot of thought and care into but isn’t totally sure I’ll want. But I do. I’ve never wanted to intrude on their relationship, try to take over the part of his life that doesn’t belong to me, but I’ll admit, I’ve been curious about my husband’s other wife.

One thing in particular. It seems terribly gauche to ask about it right now, but it’s the one thing I’ve always wanted to know. And if he’s giving me the opportunity to ask…

“Was it…was it with her you learned about the things we do in here?”

Air floods out of his lungs in a forceful not-quite-laugh. “Yes. I mean, of course. Where else did you imagine—”

“No.” I don’t want him to be offended. He shouldn’t be. “I know you were faithful to her, that you’d never…”

Be with someone else. Break the rules he so diligently adheres to. Never would he touch another woman, never mind… The thought is so absurd it’s almost insane. My face gets hot anyway, because this is prying into their life together, spying in a place I have no right to.

“We learned together. We didn’t know what we were doing and at the beginning, we didn’t even know it was a thing, as such. It was just what pleased us. And when we wanted more… Well, as you might imagine, it’s not easy to find information that’s halachically acceptable. There used to be a website that had…supplies, without the pictures, but…”

He shrugs, awkwardness contorting his body.

I have to snort a giggle at that, because I imagine Elan doing an awful lot of atoning for seeing things he shouldn’t in the service of pleasing his wife. How he must have studied the arts of domination with as much devotion and concentration as anything else he puts his mind to. There are few things that could make me love my husband more, but this is one of them.

“I knew…” I try to shake the smile from my face, but I can’t manage it. The ardor I have for him can’t be contained in my body; it spills over into my expression. “You don’t have to tell me any more. I knew. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

That’s when he rolls me onto my back and presses my wrists into the mattress by the sides of my head, his hips coming to rest between my legs, and yes, his erection pressing into my core through the fabric of my skirt and his pants. Has he been hard for me since we came home?

“You’re sure we can be done with the talking for now?”

He raises a teasing brow at me and my lips purse in response. “You’re asking me, master?”

“Excellent point. Stay.”

He lets me go and then systematically strips me, the picture of lustful efficiency. It’s early yet so I can still lie on my back comfortably, and I do while he takes his own clothes off and puts them away. I could be insulted that he’s not so consumed by me that he throws them on the floor but I’ve become fond of his orderliness. It’s a way that he cares for everything and everyone around him.

Besides, since pregnancy equals no periods, I haven’t been niddah at all for the past four months—we’ve been able to be together whenever we please. The perpetual closeness is a blessing, but it’s taken the desperate edge off. Our lovemaking is definitely less fraught, although I wouldn’t say any less intense. More of a slow, cherished smolder than fireworks.

The white button down goes in the laundry basket, his suit hung up in the closet, his black kippah and his tzitzit put in their places.

Then he picks up his rope, already laid out on the bureau. Deep rich purple and dusty lilac bundles are in his hands as he comes back to the bed. He ties thick cuffs around my wrists and ankles with the dark violet lengths, more intent than usual on keeping some play between the fibers and my skin. They still hold me, though, contain me. Make me feel safe and loved. When my wrists and ankles are surrounded to his satisfaction, he helps me to my feet and has me plant my palms on the bed.

And while I wait patiently, he takes the lavender cord and uses it to tie a web of knots around me. The ties are more decorative than anything else—I revel in the feel of the rope sliding against my skin, the careful and precise way he places and secures the knots, how his fingers brush against me to do it, and his quiet skill. It’s not the instantly-arousing bite of pain, which he’s been extremely cautious with since I’ve become pregnant, but the bonds are sensually erotic and build a slow, languid heat inside, making me pliant and yes, wet for him.

When I’ve been decorated to his satisfaction, my torso covered by a lilac net, he climbs onto the bed and settles his back against the headboard before gesturing for me to join him.

I crawl up and between his spread legs, stroking his hardness a few times before he groans.

“Enough. I want to be inside you. Feel what’s mine.”

I rise up on my knees to straddle him, stroking once more before I guide his length inside of me, letting “yes, master,” escape in breathy satisfaction as I sink onto him, allow him to fill me. The hard points of my nipples brush against the wiry hair on his chest, and the contact is electrifying. I moan into his shoulder because it’s so much.

He takes the opportunity to grip my hips in his big hands, uses his hold to guide my motions, rocking me against him as he pleases. It’s overwhelming. The closeness, the feel of him between my thighs and deep inside of me, the heat and the clean smell of him. My fingers dig into his biceps as we rock against each other, until the press of flesh against flesh and the friction from the thick hair I find so enticingly masculine make me cry out as I find my release. He follows not far behind, thrusting hard into me for his last uncontrollable strokes as his climax overtakes him.

More gentle than before, but no less powerful, this is how my husband loves me. His arms come around me, pressing his ropes further into my skin, hard enough I hope they’ll leave marks for a few minutes at least for us to survey and enjoy.

“My beautiful wife,” he says as he strokes my hair, “My little bird.”

I sigh, happiness and dreamy satisfaction overtaking me while he holds and keeps me. I’ve found my place in this world; it’s here with my Elan.

♥♥♥♥♥

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed more Elan and Tzipporah! The next stop on the hop is the fabulous and farmer-ific Nicole Helm.

I’ve got a private giveaway for readers who comment on my page: one person will win their choice of signed paperback from my backlist! ***GIVEAWAY CLOSED*** Jami D is the winner : )

AND, be sure to comment on each story to be eligible for the massive giveaway at the end. It includes a pile of signed paperbacks, gift cards, and a boatload of ebooks. Thanks for joining us for #ValentinesRewind! ♥

For the First Time is out in the world! I’m so excited to be part of this fabulous anthology. It’s burning up the charts on Amazon and for the first week, you can get your hands on it for only 99¢!

You never forget your first time…

From young heartbreak to a virginity auction, from the chance meeting to the happily ever after, these exclusive stories explore first love in all its forms.

Read over 200,000 words of exclusive, never-before-read stories from twenty-one of the hottest authors of 2016:

Kim Karr, Jen Frederick, Sarah Castille, Nina Lane, CJ Roberts, Anna Zaires, Alessandra Torre, Alexa Riley, Lynda Chance, Nikki Sloane,Cynthia Sax, Avery Aster, Pam Godwin, Skye Warren, Julia Sykes, Cynthia Rayne, Jenika Snow, Debra Presley, Shoshanna Evers, Tamsen Parker, and Nina Levine!

Click now to get this special boxed set from bestselling authors before it’s gone forever!

I have been sitting on this news for MONTHS, and those of you who know me know that patience is NOT my strong suit. So I am super excited to announce that I have a short story coming out in For the First Time. FTFT is a fabulous anthology of ALL NEW work put together by the wonderful Skye Warren!

The cover, blurb and Amazon pre-order link (I’ll add more as they come up) are below, as is a little snippet from my story in the collection. Looking For a Complication is my first f/f story and I just love Astrid and Kinsey, they’re freaking adorable.

You can pre-order now for only 99¢ and on January 12th, original shorts by 21 authors will hit your e-reader!

You never forget your first time…

A brand new anthology of original, never-before-read stories from today’s hottest authors, including:

Alessandre Torre, Kim Karr, Jen Frederick, Alexa Riley, Lynda Chance, Sarah Castille, Nina Lane, CJ Roberts, Anna Zaires, Nikki Sloane, Cynthia Sax, Avery Aster, Pam Godwin, Skye Warren, Julia Sykes, Cynthia Rayne, Jenika Snow, Debra Presley, Shoshanna Evers, Tamsen Parker, and Nina Levine!

From young heartbreak to a virginity auction, from the chance meeting to the happily ever after, twenty-one exclusive stories explore first love in all its forms. This set includes almost 200,000 words of steamy encounters and sweet romance.

Pre-order your copy NOW:  Amazon

When they’d finished their drinks, they took a meandering walk in the swank neighborhood. They walked so close their hands would brush and while they’d pull back and make awkward apologies, it always happened again. When they ducked into an alleyway to avoid a raucous group of undergrads, it didn’t seem strange that they stayed.

Nor did it seem odd when Astrid pushed a stray strand of Kinsey’s hair behind her ear and leaned in like she might kiss her. It only got weird when Astrid pulled away a split second before impact and shook her head, cursing under her breath. The other girl turned to head back to the street, but Kinsey grabbed her hand and tugged her further into the dark, narrow space between the buildings.

She didn’t let go because she wanted to make it clear to Astrid that her would-be advances weren’t unwelcome. Not at all. So she waited for Astrid to meet her eyes and then spoke, her words weighted with encouragement.

“I hope you realize I wouldn’t do anything I didn’t really want to do.”

“No,” Astrid said, her dark eyes somehow growing more intense than Kinsey had thought possible. “I don’t think you would.”

Kinsey’s back hit the brick wall behind her as Astrid put hands to her shoulders and pushed. The brick scratched at the back of her arms and her shoulder blades through her dress. It didn’t scare her but made her feel…alive. Excited.

And when Astrid asked if she could kiss her, Kinsey didn’t reply, but leaned forward to give her answer. Yes, please.

It was strange at first, to kiss someone her height. Kinsey was so used to kissing guys who were taller than she was, often by a lot. But kissing Astrid… Their mouths met without either of them having to crane their necks or crouch down, but with only a tip of their heads.

The scotch on Astrid’s breath was smoky; smooth and arresting all at once. As they kissed, Astrid pushed against her and Kinsey realized that though they stood eye-to-eye, chest-to-chest, there was something about Astrid that made her feel small and delicate, a sensation that had always thrilled her.

If it wasn’t that she towered over Kinsey, it must’ve been what Astrid was made of: thicker, firmer, weightier stuff. Kinsey fumbled, not sure where to put her hands. Which was dumb because she’d made out with a dozen people and she’d never had this problem before.

She made a frustrated noise she hoped Astrid wouldn’t take as protest. As Astrid’s hands slid from her shoulders and down her arms and then wove their fingers together, Kinsey sighed.

Astrid drew back and Kinsey squeaked in protest, chasing the other girl’s mouth with her own. But Astrid had a question instead of more knee-weakening kisses. “Okay?”

“Kiss me more!”

“Can do.”

What says happy holidays better than a sale on kinky erotic romance? Okay, so maybe I can think of a few things. But the point is that for the first time ever, PERSONAL GEOGRAPHY is available for cheap–only 99 pennies!!! That’s a steal for a swoony beta dom hero and his snarky submissive heroine. So if you haven’t gotten your hands on Cris and India already, here’s your chance!

Read Personal Geography now

And if you’re looking for more romance in your holiday cheer, head on over to the 12 Days of X-Mas, hosted by the Smutketeers! I’ll be there on the 10th, but there are over 100 fabulous authors participating over the next several days. An awesome time will be had by all!

Craving Flight is in print! And it’s GORGEOUS, thanks to Amber at Book Beautiful.

To celebrate, I’m going to give away two copies. Leave a comment below to enter and I’ll pick a winner at 8pm EST on Wednesday, November 4th. Open internationally!

Even if you don’t win, Craving Flight is available for FREE at Amazon, ARe, B&N, kobo, iBooks and Smashwords.

Okay, so technically it showed up last week. But between release week brain, registering for #RT2016 (Vegas, baby!), and taking a long weekend trip to Montreal with Mr. Parker, I didn’t quite get a chance to mention it here. At any rate, CRAVING FLIGHT is no longer available just to Goodreads BDSM group members, but everyone. For FREE! You can pick it up at your preferred ebook retailer (links at the bottom of the page). In case I haven’t jabbered enough about it, here’s the cover and the blurb. Welcome to the world, book of my chest pains!

Tzipporah Berger is thirty-seven and single, which is practically unheard of in the Orthodox Jewish community she now calls home. Her increasing religiosity and need for kink may have broken up her first marriage, but she’s decided it’s time to try again. And the rabbi’s wife has just the man in mind.

Elan Klein is the neighborhood butcher whose intimidating size and gruff manner hint at a deliciously forceful personality. But BDSM isn’t exactly something you discuss during an Orthodox courtship. Will a marriage to Elan solidify her place in the community that she loves and provide the domination and pain Tzipporah craves or will she forever have to rely on flights of fancy to satisfy her needs?

Amz: http://amzn.to/1F8Q5jM
ARe: http://bit.ly/1QPNpII
B&N: http://bit.ly/1WfRWax
iBooks: http://apple.co/1FlPXgv
kobo: http://bit.ly/1W9mQkR
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/1L3bwVL

I’m super excited to be participating in the #GetItTogetherHop! If you’re stopping by for the first time and aren’t familiar with me or my books, I’m Tamsen Parker and I write predominantly BDSM erotic romance. You can find out more about my books here.

So, I have a confession to make. I may talk a good game but my organization strategies are haphazard at best. I use an old school paper planner and right now it’s not even one from my beloved May Designs, but some generic thing I bought at Staples after losing my personalized one at O’Hare while flying home from visiting my critique partner Amy Jo Cousins.

This was my INSANE schedule at RWA. My usual weeks aren’t as event filled, but have a lot more errands.

It’s not pretty but if I don’t write things down, I’m almost guaranteed to forget. When I get a new planner, I put in set-in-stone dates (birthdays, conferences, etc) in pretty gel ink colors. I try to keep that up and actually had an amazing system during college that included different colors of sparkly stickers for papers, tests, etc. Life as a writer/mom has made things a little more complicated and subject to change, but I’m trying to get back to the pretty because it makes me happy.

Speaking of happy, here are some of the places the magic (aka the head-meeting-desk, hair-pulling, weeping, social-media-checking and yes, occasionally actual writing) happens. Working from home all the time can be rough so I try to switch it up. My favorite spots right now are my own backyard, a little nook in our bedroom that Mr. Parker refers to as my hidey hole, my desk in our guest bedroom, and a coffee shop that shall remain nameless to protect the not-so-innocent. In addition to providing good music and a low hum of activity that’s not super distracting, they also make a killer caramel mocha, essential for deadlines.

Getting down to the nitty-gritty of story-making, most of my notes are scribbled in one of my May Designs notebooks or entered into a draft email in my gmail. You can see below that I really do adore May Designs. I don’t have a problem, I can stop any time. Probably.

This is…not even half my stash. I know, I know. I need help.

I’m also a very boring Word user. No Scrivener for me. I’ve thought about it because I’m what they call a quilter, and it would probably suit me well but I’m a little wary of the learning curve and getting so distracted by all the features that I’d never actually get any writing done. A quilter, btw, is in contrast to plotters and pantsers. I tend to write scenes willy nilly whenever the inspiration strikes (it’s not unusual for me to write the end of the book about a third of the way through) and then have to go back and stich them all together. Which sounds a little nutty, but it provides a road map of sorts. Like if I start at Point A, and I need to get to Point G (the next scene I wrote), how do I make that happen? Sometimes when I’m finished with the first draft, I’ll do a diagram that looks kind of like this:

Pretty graphic from http://livewritebreathe.com/the-black-moment/

That helps me figure out where I could cut or add. I’d never recommend this, uh, technique is probably a strong word for what I do, to anyone, but so far, it’s worked out for me.

If you look closely, you could probably read the first few paragraphs of CRAVING FLIGHT. Just sayin’.

I don’t have a crazy schedule right now, partly because I haven’t revised my plan after breaking it to write my next release, CRAVING FLIGHT, but also because a few things are up in the air now that I’m not solely self-publishing.

When I do have an insane schedule, this big guy helps keep me on-track with big-picture items like when I need to hand things in to beta readers and editors, send out ARCs, etc, and real life commitments like vacations and Mr. Parker’s travel schedule. Being able to see all of it at once helps me either avoid over-committing or at least know what I’m getting myself into.

So that’s a peek into the (dis)organization that is my writer life. Now you’ve seen the chaos behind the curtain!

Thank you so much for stopping by. And a very special thank you to Alexandra Haughton and Lindsay Emory for putting this together! You can see the entire schedule here. And do check out the other lovelies posting today: Laura K. Curtis, Mary Chris Escobar, Alexandra Haughton and Jeffe Kennedy.

Don’t forget to enter the rafflecopter which includes some fab prizes from yours truly!

xoxo Tamsen

a Rafflecopter giveaway