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- My Writing Process - by Vijaya Schartz
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- Excerpt from CENTAURI DAWN
- My Writing Process - by Vijaya Schartz
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Wednesday, April 30, 2014
3:35 AM | Posted by S.E. Smith | | Edit Post
‘Me’ Time: Yes, you can!
By S. E. Smith
Have you ever felt guilty about taking ‘me’ time? I’m sure the majority of us have at one time or another. One thing I’ve learned, or should I say I’m still learning, is that it is important to have balance in your life. I have always been a bit - okay, a lot - of a workaholic and for most of my life I have felt guilty when taking the time to do something just for me. There never seems to be enough time in the day to get everything done so I tend to push ‘me’ onto the back burner – well, no more.Life is a combination of balances and it is easy to forget that balance when family, work and life get in the way. For years my husband has pushed me to find this ‘equilibrium’ where I have time for myself. He has told me for years that it is just as important to take the time to play. Life is, after all, about the journey you take and the relationships you develop along the way. It was his concern, and a period of feeling very rebellious, that changed my attitude.
Lily’s Cowboys: Heaven Sent Book 1 was the first book I wrote and published.
She received a Night Owl Review Top Pick 5/5 stars.
So, I continued to read every day, all day to escape from the world around me. The problem was I soon found it more and more difficult to find the kind of books with the type of heroes and heroines that I wanted to read about. So the reading changed to writing, which soon changed to sharing. You would think ‘Great, she now has a hobby’ but I know my personality. If I am not careful, I will lose the balance I am so desperately trying to achieve.
My Personality…. I took this after writing the above. Boy, did I hit the nail on the head! What about you?
The INFJ type is believed to be very rare (less than 1 percent of the population) and has an unusual set of traits. Even though their presence can be described as very quiet, INFJ personalities usually have many strong opinions, especially when it comes to issues they consider really important in life. If an INFJ is fighting for something, this is because they believe in the idea itself, not because of some selfish reasons.
INFJ personalities are drawn toward helping those in need: they may rush to the place of a major disaster, participate in rescue efforts, do charity work, etc. INFJs see this as their duty and their purpose in life. People with this personality type firmly believe that nothing else would help the world as much as getting rid of all the tyrants (though preferably in a non-violent way). Karma and similar concepts are very attractive to INFJs.
These tendencies are also strengthened by the fact that INFJ personalities have a unique combination of idealism and decisiveness. This means that their creativity and imagination can be directed toward a specific goal. Few other personality types have this trait, and this is one of the most important reasons why many INFJs are able to eventually realize their dreams and make a lasting positive impact.
INFJs are masters of written communication, with a distinctively smooth and warm language. In addition, the sensitivity of INFJs allows them to connect to others quite easily. Their easy and pleasant communication can often mislead bystanders, who might think that the INFJ is actually a very sociable person.
Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness. - Martin Luther King
INFJs should be careful to avoid “overheating” as their zeal and determination can sometimes get out of hand. As Introverts (I), INFJs need to have some “alone time” every once in a while; otherwise their internal energy reserves will get depleted really quickly. If this happens, the INFJ may surprise everybody around them by withdrawing from all their activities for a while, and since other people usually see INFJs as always friendly and sociable, this can leave them both surprised and concerned.
INFJs take great care of other people’s feelings and expect others to return the favor. Unsurprisingly, people with this personality type are very sensitive and vulnerable to conflicts. Even the most rational INFJs may find it quite difficult to not take criticism personally—this is the INFJ’s Achilles’ heel. If someone with an INFJ personality cannot escape the conflict, they will do their best to deal with it head on, but this will result in a lot of stress and may also potentially lead to health problems or highly irrational behavior.
So what does all this mean for me as writer? Remember above when it said “very sensitive and vulnerable to conflicts” and “Even the most rational INFJs may find it quite difficult to not take criticism personally”. This is me whenever I release a new book. I am always excited and scared and fears and doubts arise. What is important to me is to acknowledge that not everyone will like my books and that is OK. I need to continue to take time out for me, especially after the release of a new book as this helps me recharge and keep my perspective. I’ve learned a little perspective never hurt anyone! LOL.
So what am I currently working on? Check out my web site, FB, Twitter and more tomorrow as I make a BIG announcement as to what is coming up next. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.
A Dragonlings’ Easter is still #1 on Amazon!
Amazon Best Sellers Rank:
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
3:00 AM | Posted by Elysa | | Edit Post
Available only at Amazon:
A FIERY ENCOUNTER
Like two ill-aligned stars, Shyanne Kedar and Greyson Dane were destined to collide. She was a smuggler’s daughter, and he, an interstellar lawman. Their affair was scorching, dazzling…and ended like a supernova, in a blaze of betrayal.
A LOVE REKINDLED
Ten years later, the flames haven’t cooled. Shyanne’s lush body, the twist of her lips and the fire in her eyes—all radiate the same magnetism that ensnared Greyson before, and now he’s truly her prisoner. But as much as things have changed, they remain exactly the same. Danger threatens. Humanity’s fate hangs in the balance. And though his tempting captor doesn’t know it, if Greyson’s plan succeeds, it will save mankind…and lose him the only woman he ever loved. This time, forever.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Greyson asked. Despite his obvious arousal, he was leaving the decision to her. It would have been easier if he'd taken command. This way left her no excuse.
His question increased her apprehension. Want? No. Shy didn't want him. After all the pain and grief, how could she? No, she didn't want this. She needed it.
"Yes," she said.
A small smile touched his lips. He took a step toward her.
When she tensed, he placed his palm against her cheek and looked into her eyes. "Trust me. I won't hurt you."
Looking into his eyes, she wanted to believe him. Wanted to feel what she'd felt all those years ago: pure, innocent love, untarnished by lies or deceit. But that time was long gone. Those feelings were long dead, the people who'd felt them long discarded. Whatever they shared now could be only physical. Lust: Yes. Sex: Hell, yes. Trust? Hell, no.
She stood in silent anticipation as he peeled away her clothing. She shivered. Not from the cool air swirling over her bare skin, but from the heated look in his dark eyes. Her breasts swelled. He leaned forward and captured one hard nipple between his lips and sucked. Wet heat sizzled through her. Her knees buckled. To keep from falling, she grabbed his shoulders then gasped as he swung her into his arms and deposited her on the exam table.
He crawled up and over her. His cock brushed against the inside of her thigh where, slick and hot, moisture gathered. Desire churned in her belly.
She reached up and pulled his mouth to hers. Their tongues tangled in a silent battle, and she realized her control was an illusion. Under the assault of his hands, lips and tongue, rational thought deserted her. His lips left hers to trail down her throat. She arched her neck to grant him access. Breath shuddered out of her as he rolled one aching nipple between his fingers and sucked the other into his mouth. The suction sent frissons of long forgotten sensation coursing through her, like the tiny bubbles in effervescent wine they tingled in her veins.
Need built the pressure inside her, need dammed up without release. Her skin felt super-sensitized. Greyson stroked his fingertips down her chest and belly and explored the indent of her navel. Lower, he combed through her damp curls. One finger moved past the hair and delved into the slick folds.
When he circled her clit, the surge of energy from the brief touch jolted her and she gasped. He tried to pull his hand away, but she grasped his wrist and held him there. She felt him grin against her breast.
Twisting her body, she flipped him onto his back, then rose on her knees and straddled his hips. Air cooled the heat on her breast, but the feel of his hard cock pressing against her pubic mound sent a surge of heat into her belly. Though his cock throbbed, bouncing gently against her, and his breathing was rapid, he smiled.
Every nerve coiled in anticipation, but his command of his passion angered her. She wanted him as frantic for satisfaction as she. Desperate to take back control, to get what she needed from him, she lifted her hips over him and plunged downward.
She gasped at the small spear of pain from his intrusion into her body. Years of going without had left her tight. Still, unwilling to wait for her body to adjust to his size, she rode him fast and hard.
Clasping her thighs with his hands, he met her stroke for stroke, pushing her ever upward. The bubbles in her blood turned to sparks of fire. Inside her an inferno raged, burning away the last of her reason, her doubts and her fears. Nothing mattered but reaching this summit and plunging into the abyss beyond.
With a burst of inner light, she climaxed. She cried out and fell forward over him. He thrust upward one last time and she felt his liquid heat flow into her. She pressed her face against his sweat-slick body and murmured, "This doesn't change anything. I may still space you."
"I'll worry about that tomorrow."
Friday, April 18, 2014
12:00 AM | Posted by Linda Andrews | | Edit Post
I've been asked by Melanie at the Dog-Earred Pages Used Bookstore to give a workshop on Villains, titled Facing Off: Creating an adversary worthy of your hero. Apparently, she really loved Trent:D.
Date: April 18th
Time: 05:30 PM
Time: 05:30 PM
Anyway, the series is part of the Friday Night Writes, she hosts at her store. I believe this is a small fee to attend, but that fee will be applied to a book purchase. FMI, you can visit her website http://www.dogearedpagesusedbooks.com/
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
3:31 AM | Posted by woolfcindy | | Edit Post
I recently made the first book in my Centauri Series perma-free and I'd like to share an excerpt from that book, CENTAURI DAWN
Always the same dream. He called to her. “Princess Dayanara.” His voice was like rich, silky caramel, floating down her mound of ice cream. It did strange things to her insides. She yearned to hear him say her name again and again.
It was so hot and he was so sexy. Hot. God, she was hot. She kicked the blanket off her leg. But he was just a dream. A fantasy.
Something…someone…touched her leg. This wasn’t a dream! The hand she felt hot against her skin was real. She jolted awake. The warmth she felt in her dream turned to a cold sweat.
A man stood beside her bed. Not just any man, but the man from her dreams. Tall, dark, with chiseled features. Handsome with broad shoulders and abs to die for. His face came into focus and his gaze captured hers. Color of the deepest ocean, so blue as to seem almost black in the faint light that surrounded him, she struggled to look away.
Sitting bolt upright, she screamed, then scrambled backward over and off the bed, landing with a thump. She hit her back and shoulder.
The man leaned over the bed, his large size looming down over her, blocking the light from the window.
She scrambled backward, struggling to get to her feet.
“Are you injured?” His voice washed over her. He sounded familiar, like she should know him, but she didn’t.
He came around the bed and she bounded over it to the other side. As he closed in on her, she glanced quickly around and looked for a weapon, any weapon. Her hand landed on a small pink lamp. It had sat next to her bed since she was five, keeping her safe from the boogeyman. She grabbed it, pulling the cord from the wall and held it in front of her like a sword.
“Who the hell are you? Get out of here before I call the police.” Her voice was rough from sleep, edgy from fear
He moved closer to her, reaching out a hand. Not with malice, but with something else. Concern? “Princess you’re going to hurt someone. May I assist you?” he asked, chivalrous.
Princess. He must be a nutcase.
She yanked at the straps of her gown, resettling them on her shoulders and pulling the bottom down as far as it would go, but it was too short to cover much.
“Stop.” Her voice shook, though she tried to steady it. “Don’t come any closer.”
“You must listen. You must come with me.”
She screamed at the top of her lungs, “Help! Help! Help!” What was wrong with the people in this building? Were they all deaf?
His voice washed over her like warm chocolate, comforting her. That wasn’t right. Why wasn’t he attacking her? The soothing voice didn’t stop her. He was a stranger. In her bedroom. “Help! Help!” she screamed, keeping the pink lamp aimed at him.
She lunged across the bed, reaching for the telephone.
“Now, Princess, please calm down.” He reached for the phone and ripped it from the wall. “I mean you no harm, but we must talk and there is little time.” He fell to one knee, bowing in front of her.
Her eyes wide, she swung the pink lamp at him at him. He deflected the blow with his forearm as he stood, denting the lampshade in the process.
“Princess, someone is going to get hurt if you do not allow me to speak.” He wrestled the mangled lamp from her. “Hear what I have to say. Please,” he implored. “You must return home. Immediately.”
“Help! Somebody help me!” Screaming, she kicked out at him with her foot, tried to take his head off but her skills were no match for his. He blocked her kick with one arm, grabbed her leg with both his hands, flipped her completely around and back on the bed.
“No one can hear you. Stop screaming.” His voice never rose. He sounded…exasperated.
Somewhat reassured that he didn’t attack, Audra stopped to catch her breath. Breathing hard, she rolled to her back, the sheet cool beneath her, eyeing him from top to bottom. “You look like you just came from a Star Trek convention.” And just like the man in my dream.
Could it be?
“Yes, I have trekked across the stars in search of you, Princess.” His words were odd, clipped, very formal, as though learned from a book.
“What are you talking about?” This man, dream or not, was in her bedroom, and she couldn’t imagine how in the world he got in there.
He held out his hand to help her up, but she swatted it away.
“Who are you? Really? How did you get in here and...and who are you?” She lunged for the lamp in his hands.
Placing the lamp out of her reach, he said, “I am Coridian, brother of your betrothed. I am here to escort you home.”
“Betrothed? You’ve escaped from the asylum, haven’t you? You’re some kind of nut and...”
“My lady, I am not an escapee from an asylum, and I am not a pecan.”
“Then, why do you keep spouting nonsense? I’m not a princess!”
“May I rise? I’ll explain—.”
She shook her head and backed up a step. “You—”
He held up his hand to stop her. “Then you can ask your questions.”
“You-you stay right where you are.”
In the next instant, she grabbed the hairspray can from her dressing table, threw it at his head and bolted for the door. He leapt forward and caught her before she’d taken two steps, slamming her up against his chest, trapping her there within his arms. The lamp crashed to the floor, shattered.
Kicking wildly, Audra connected with his groin. His knees buckled, but he was quick to recover and never loosened his hold on her. Her heart raced as she twisted, freed an arm, and slammed the heel of her hand into his face. If he hadn’t turned, she would have broken his nose. Her strike was solid enough though, she heard him groan in pain before he released her.
Triumphant, she spun around, connecting her right foot with his solar plexus, knocking the wind from him. Now on the attack, she switched feet, and with her left foot, launched him backward, sending him landing on his back. Regaining her balance before he did, she straddled his chest, her knees and feet trapping his arms.
“Now. Tell me what I want to know or I’ll make sure you don’t see another day.”
He smiled, actually smiled at her. “I have told you who I am. Only your aunt can tell you more. I have no wish to harm you, my lady.” He looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “I rather like you sitting on me like this.”
“Are you mad? I could kill you.”
Instead, he bucked sideways, sending her toppling to the floor. Before she could rise, he had her back on the floor, straddled her, his body pressing her down.
“Now. Are you ready to listen?”
Looking up at him, she finally nodded. He moved, rising swiftly to his feet. Her body tingled from where he’d straddled her. She didn’t like, actually, she liked too much, how it felt to have his weight upon her.
She ignored his outstretched hand, stood and stepped away from him, her gaze darting toward the door.
Smiling, he shook his finger at her. “Do not even think it. I would have you before you took two steps. Again.”
Raising her chin, she nodded. She wasn’t afraid of him...her dream man. That though made her pause. She should be afraid, but somehow she sensed he didn’t mean her harm
Another feeling rose in her-an electric connection.
The urgent need to touch his body, run her fingers through his hair. Somehow she felt, no she knew, that this man would never hurt her, would rather die than cause her pain. How did she know that?
“Fine. Tell me what you want and get out.”
Walking to the window, he gave her some space. “I am Coridian. Darius Coridian. My brother, Anton, is your betrothed. He sent me here to bring you home. To Centauri.”
“Anton? I don’t know any Anton, and I’ve never heard of Centauri.”
“Allow me to finish. You are Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess Dayanara, and heir to the throne of the planet Centauri in the system you know as Alpha Centauri, approximately four light years from here.
“You have been living here on Earth for the last twenty-four years. This was done to protect you from your enemies. Now, however, both of your parents are dead and you must return with me to claim your throne and marry my brother.”
“You’ve got the wrong girl.” She shoved off the bed, wrapping her arms about her.
“Princess.” He stood next to her, but did not touch her. “Audra. Look at me.”
She did and looked up into those dark, midnight blue eyes, framed with incredibly thick lashes...and felt an instant and unwelcome thrill of recognition. It was the same as in her dream. His proximity made her aware of nothing but him. The room seemed smaller, the air thinner. Her heart beat faster, her pulse raced.
“Let us go see your...mother. She will explain everything to your satisfaction.” His voice was gentle, coaxing, almost mesmerizing. “Then we must leave quickly. The trip home will be long, but not nearly long enough. You have many things to learn on the way.”
His words brought her back to reality. She walked over to her nightstand where her phone used to be. “Give me back my phone. I’m calling the police.”
“I will give you the device, if you agree to contact Princess Margareta.”
Taking a deep breath, she decided she would find out if her dreams were correct or if they were nothing more than the musings of a sexually repressed female mind. Rolling her eyes at her thoughts, she reached for the phone he handed her.
“Fine, I’ll call Mom.” As she groped for the plug, she never took her eyes off him.
“I can’t. You broke the damn thing.” Dropping the phone to the floor, she said, “I’ll have to use my cell. You wait outside. I’ll let you know what she says, and then you can leave.”
“No,” he said, as if he could read her mind. “I’ll wait right here. My mission is too important to play games. Call her. Now. I give you my oath as Coridian, Captain of the Dragonera and Lord Protector of the Throne of Centauri, I won’t move.”
“Fine.” She found her cell in her purse and dialed the number. “Mom’s going to think I’m crazy for letting you talk me into calling her.”
“We will see, Princess.” He smiled. “We will see.”
There was something about him, more than the fact that he was a stranger in her bedroom that left her feeling uneasy. Fear that he might be telling the truth.
“Hello. Mom?” Audra remained facing Coridian, never turning her back to him.
Her mother answered. “Audra? This is early for you to be up on a Saturday, sweetheart. I didn’t expect you to call today. Aren’t you coming for dinner tomorrow?”
“Mom, there’s a man here named Coridian who keeps calling me ‘Princess’ and says that you can explain.”
The sharp intake of breath heard through the receiver surprised Audra, telling her that indeed the man, Coridian, might be telling the truth. Her heart stalled.
“Mom? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
Her mother’s reply sounded strained, a little shaky. “What did you say his name was?”
“Coridian. He said his name is Coridian.”
“Oh, Lord,” her mother gasped. “Audra, bring that man with you and come home right now. I’ll explain when you get here. I love you, dear.”
The phone receiver went dead. Her mother hung up on her!
She listened dumbly to the dial tone in her ear. Her mother never wanted anything done immediately. She always told her children to slow down and take it easy.
This was not good.