Sunday, December 4, 2011

Aaand the Winner Is ...

Merry Christmas!

It is time, merry ones, to announce another winner to my random drawing for The Orion Series.

Aaand the winner is ... Shadow! Thanks for visiting the TRS party, Shadow, and stopping by here as well.

I'll be sending you a message via email.



After the re-issue of the three books my Rock'n'Romance series two weeks apart, I'm tired--in that pleasant, just-drifting-off-to-sleep way that comes in the afterglow of truly satisfying events.

At our writers' holiday party, one of the newer writers in our chapter was talking about the struggles and confusion she was feeling about her work in progress. I remembered my own journey to publication. So many times I wondered if I would ever sell a book, let alone two or three or an entire series!

I was again reminded how much I have to be grateful for, including the re-issue of THE ROCK STAR, THE BODYGUARD, and THE LEADER OF THE BAND. And much to look forward to in my writing life with a new series being released starting in March 2012.


I'd like to share a bit with you about my Rock'n'Romance trilogy and why I chose to write about heroes connected with a rock band.

I've already confessed on my Rock'n'Romance blog to being a "Rock and Roll Wimp"--no heavy metal, please. :) However, like most teenaged girls I knew, I had a crush or two on a rock star. I went to some concerts and even got up close--but not personal--when members of the band signed photos or other momentos.

When I began writing as an adult, I applied that famous "what if" question writers use a lot. What if a crush on a rock star became more? What if it became a personal encounter? And what if that encounter wasn't a fantasy, but turned into a traumatic experience that changed the lives of both the enamored young woman and the singer? That was the idea that sparked THE ROCK STAR.

Then, as seems to happen when I write, secondary characters demanded their stories be written. So THE BODYGUARD came to life. The heroine wanted to share her story to lend to courage to other women who might find themselves and their children in violent situations. The hero, however, really kept his emotions tightly inside. Only as the book progressed and his attraction for the heroine deepened did he allow his true feelings to peek out. When Mitch and Julia teamed up to rescue her kidnapped children, they discovered their own Christmas miracle in what my first editor called a "feel good Christmas story."

THE LEADER OF THE BAND has a different tone than the first two books of the series, because the hero and heroine are different than characters I usually write. In fact, Zach was the antagonist in the first book of the trilogy--though he does start his journey to redemption. This book brings him up short by the guitar strings so he is forced to examine his excuses for not pursuing the dreams of his heart. These dreams include making a commitment to the former beauty queen he has loved since they were both teenagers.

And now I'll leave you with best wishes for a wonderful holiday season and an excerpt from THE LEADER OF THE BAND.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving to you. I have so much to be thankful for.

I get to do what I love--write sexy romance, with action, danger and laughter in the mix.

I have a publisher, Samhain Publishing, to bring my stories to readers.

I have places to chat with readers--this blog, my Amazon author page, Facebook, Twitter and all the wonderful reader forums.

I have The Orion Series out, and a new series in the works. The process--the thrill of writing, then having a book accepted, working with my editor to make it the best story it can be, with the art department to create a cover that will showcase the story. It's hard work, sometimes brutal, but I wouldn't trade it for any other craft.

I have friends with whom to share the journey--other slightly bent people just like me, who love to pour their hearts and imaginations onto the page.

And then it all comes back to the people I'm most thankful for--you, the readers.

Thank you for sharing my love of sexy romance, adventure and a little humor.

You make it all worthwhile.

And ... if you're one of the partiers from The Romance Studio's big Thanksgiving Bash, or even if you're just dropping by just 'cause, leave a comment here, with your email addy.

I'll do a random drawing for all 4 books in my Orion Series. I'll post the winner here by Sunday, November 27th. If you sign up for email notifications, you'll hear right away.


Sunday, October 9, 2011

A Writer's Dream ... with Michele Stegman

As a writer I had a dream.  I wanted to be published.  I couldn’t believe it when I finally sold my first book.  The one thing that would make it real for me would be to see my books sitting on a shelf in a bookstore.

          I made careful note of which day of the month the new Leisure releases appeared on bookstore shelves and which day they showed up at Kroger’s. 

          The month my book was released, I was patient.  I waited for two days after the day they should be at Kroger’s before I went down to “shop.”  I got a cart and wheeled through the produce, the deli.  I didn’t rush right to the book aisle.  I savored the moment.  When I got to that aisle, I casually strolled along the shelves, looking for that cover Leisure had sent me. 

          I did a double take.  It wasn’t there!  I looked again.  All the other new Leisure releases were there, but not mine!  I was so disappointed.  What had happened?  I didn’t find out for a couple of weeks that the store had put MY books on the end cap, in a special place because I was a local author!  But the point was, I didn’t see them that day and went home with a sigh.

          A couple of days later my husband and I went to a book store.  This time I hurried directly for the romance section.  There were Danielle Steele’s books.  I should be right after…nope!  No books!  I looked all over the romance section.  No books by Michele Stegman!

          I went up to the counter and asked.  Yes, they told me, there should be two of my books back there.  She went to help me find them.  The clerk couldn’t find them, either.  The conclusion?  They had been stolen!  They would reorder.  Come back in a few days.

          Three days later hubby and I went to a mall where there were TWO bookstores.  Surely, one of them would have my book!  I went to the one downstairs and Ron went to the other. 

          I looked all over that bookstore and they didn’t have my book.  When I inquired, they checked their records.  Yes, they had ordered eight copies—but they had sold out!  Well, that was good news, but frustrating because I still hadn’t seen my book on a bookstore shelf.

          Ron came in and told me there were copies upstairs.  I hurried up there, and sure enough, FINALLY, I saw my book for sale in a real bookstore.  There they were.  Four brand new, lovely copies!  I basked in pride for a moment or two and then I looked at my husband and wailed, “Why haven’t they sold?”

          Well, while I was there, I signed the copies and sold two of them so at last I went home happy.

          If you are a writer, what is/was your dream?  What made it real for you?  Was it getting “the call?”  Signing your first contract?  Connecting with readers at your first book signing?

Michele Stegman writes warm, sensual romances.  Check out her website for more information on her and her books at:

Can she give up the man she loves before her secret destroys them both?

As long as no one knows who Irish really is, she will be safe.  But Tyrus Fortune seems determined to uncover all her secrets.  Can she fully love him without revealing her true self to him?  And if she does, will it also put him and his family in danger.

Tyrus Fortune returns home after two years determined to unmask the woman who has found her way into the hearts of his family.  He is sure she is a fraud—until he begins to fall in love with her.  Now he only wishes she will trust him with her secrets and her love so they can face the future together.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Hawaiian Heroes, Book I has a title!

It's a wrap! The first book of my new Hawaiian Heroes contemporary paranormal series has a title!

Walking in Fire will debut in April, 2012.

Now, if you were one of the witty, creative women who participated in my contest to help choose a title, you know that this was not one of the titles suggested. But it was sparked (pardon the pun) by the titles suggested. All the fun and funny titles really got my creative fires burning, and I came up with the title myself.

And ... when you eventually see the title of Book II, you'll know that I actually started with that, and then worked backwards to get this title.

So, since I can't win my own contest, and I want to thank everyone who participated, here's the deal.

I have printed the names of each entrant on a piece of paper, and my personal assistant (just kidding, I don't have one, so my own tall, dark and handsome will step in) will be drawing the name of one grand prize winner for the $20.00 gift certificate and free e-copy of Walking in Fire.

Drum roll, please ... wait, is that a ukulele I hear?

The winner is ... Cher Green! Cher, you gave me some fabulous suggestions, thanks! I hope you enjoy spending the gift certificate on some great reads, and also enjoy Walking in Fire next April. I'll send you an email, so please reply to right away, and I'll get you the first part of your prize.

And thanks to everyone who participated in the contest. I had so much fun I think I'll have another contest for Halloween.

Stay tuned,

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

It's a contest! Book Title = Prizes for You

You have great ideas, right? Sure you do. I need one.

Here's the deal--I've written a contemporary paranormal, set in Hawaii. That's right, paradise. Love those islands, don't you?

I love this story, too. What I don't have is a title. So if you can come up with a title my editor and I love, I will send you a $20.00 gift certificate for or Barnes and, your choice. AND a free copy of the book when it debuts next spring, naturally!

Here's a quick look at the premise ...

' Melia Carson is in Hawaii to escape the chill of heartache. But when she joins a tour, she finds herself in a tropical heat wave. Her playboy host is not what he seems. Neither is the handsome Hawaiian who joins their group. David Ho'omalu is big, powerful and hot enough to melt even Melia's defenses. But why does she dream of him each night, garbed in native style and wreathed in flames?

When she surrenders to the desire burning between them, she discovers he has fiery, hidden depths. As one of the goddess Pele's guardians, he protects her island while she slumbers deep inside her volcano, Kilauea.

A true Hawaiian hero, born to protect his island. He'll use his power to protect Melia as well, but can she trust him with her heart?'

So that's the story ... or at least the beginning. What would be a good title for this story? Keep in mind it involves a little bit of molten lava, too! ;D

You're welcome to present as many titles as you wish. Please send them to

I will choose a winner by October 1st, 2011.


Monday, July 4, 2011

Independence Day ... and beyond

Today is July 4th, the day when Americans celebrate the signing of our Declaration of Independence.

 Here in the Pacific Northwest, we gather together with friends, family and neighbors to barbecue and blow up as many faux incendiary devices as we can legally buy. Silly, huh? No, not really.

Here's why—every time I see a gorgeous firework rocket into the night sky and then burst into sparkling colors, I think of all the men and women in our armed forces who've died under real mortar and rocket fire. Because of them and their sacrifices my family lives in a free country.  Instead of real battles raging around our home, there are only loud bangs and flashes for a few evenings.

Where ever you live, I hope you have freedoms to celebrate, as well. Like the freedom of information. Have you ever stopped to think that the freedom to buy a romance novel, or any other kind, is an important right? It is—totalitarian regimes always go after the artists and writers as soon as they've secured the government. They don't want you thinking freely.

My writing reflects my appreciation of our freedoms, too. Oh, my current series isn't set in this country or even on this earth, but the men and women of The Orion believe strongly in doing what's right. Protecting their ship and all the beings aboard. Keeping them safe from those who would do harm.

The hero and heroine of Prince of Dragons, my first book in PRINT from Samhain, available tomorrow, July 5th, are the captains of The Orion's Guard. Willing to sacrifice themselves, if need be to keep their ship, her crew and passengers safe.

Would I be this brave in real life? Sorry to say, no. I'm just a civilian. One who's grateful for all those true blue men and women braver than me. And grateful that I have the freedom to share my brave and very sexy characters with you.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Check out this great blog: 'Visiting the Paranormal ... one book at a time'

I was charmed to find that this blogger had read and loved 'Tyger, Tyger, Burning Bryght', my current Amazon FREE READ, available Free June 15-28, 2011.

Here's what she had to say ...

'My Thoughts: Growing up completely immersed in sci-fi/fantasy books, I get a certain thrill when I get to read adult sci-fi. Sexy, sexy adult sci-fi. Yum. Spaceships! Shapeshifters! Sex! All in one compact package. Life doesn't get any better than this.

Here I got a shapeshifting tiger/man, a wide-eyed female who ends up giving as good as she gets, an eco-terrorism subplot that elevated the story from just sci-fi erotica to something with a little depth, a couple of perverted voyeurs, and ... umm, sex in a navigation room. Seriously? It's everything I was looking for before I knew I was looking for it. How awesome is that??

Sexy with a little dom/sub play (what? He's a beast. It happens.), I thoroughly enjoyed it.'

This review captures the spirit of Tyger, Tyger beautifully.

Hope you enjoy it, too!


Link to Visiting the Paranormal ... one book at a time Blog

Friday, June 3, 2011

The Big Wave

My husband and I recently visited Hawaii—the Big Island—for 11 days and nights. It was wonderful, a long saved for treat. We’d been to Maui, but never the Big Island.

The west shore, including Kona, boasts bays rimmed with lava flows worn smooth by waves, sun and wind. The water is clear because not much sand is roiling in the surf. Our favorite? Honaunau Bay, home of the Place of Refuge state park. If you visit Hawaii, be sure to snorkel at Honaunau. The reef is full of beautiful fishes, eels and turtles. Some days the spinner dolphins come in to rest and they'll let you swim with them, something you'll never forget.

Our condo was on a Kona beach aptly named Magic Sands. In winter, the waves are so strong the sand all but disappears, to be washed back in the spring. Even then, the beach is dotted with old lava rock, worn smooth, but still dangerous if one is dashed onto it by a wave.

The local Hawaiian body surfers and boogie boarders come and play there, as graceful as seals in the surf. The tourists try it, too, with varying degrees of success. My husband grew up in California, and is very comfortable in the ocean. Me, not so much. Give me a calm lake. I swim well, but I'm nervous negotiating the surf break.

My husband wanted to body surf, so I swam out with him, floated on the waves and watched him play, strong and graceful. When I was tired, I waited ‘til a big wave passed (usually followed by a series of smaller waves) and then swam in. I stood up, got my footing, and started wading up onto the shore.

My husband yelled, I turned and saw him with his hand outstretched for me, and then what must have been the biggest wave of the day (and possibly the month!) came barreling up onto the beach. A wall of turquoise rimmed with white slammed into me, knocking me head over heels, somersaulting me in its depths.

I really don’t remember getting out, just that I was dizzy and sick and needed his help to get up onto the dry sand, where I more or less collapsed. I wanted to throw up, but there were people everywhere—too embarrassing. I put my head on my knees and waited it out.

I’d forgotten the primary of rule of the beach—never turn your back on the ocean. I was very lucky—although I bounced off the sandy bottom several times, somehow I missed all those lava rocks. Just an upset stomach from swallowing salt water, and a red face for being such a touron—western slang for moron tourist.

The rest of our visit was blissful. All too soon, we returned to the mainland, and life settled into the routine of work, writing and home. Now I'm awaiting the end of the school year, and a summer of writing and playing in the sun.

But if there's one thing I know about life, it's that just when I get comfortable, a big wave may hit me.

That wall of water can come in any form—illness, job loss, bad news about a family member or friend. When it happens, I'll feel as if I'm back in that Kona wave, being thrown head over heels, at the mercy of the mighty ocean. (I know, you saw this analogy coming, right? Hey, I'm a writer, I can't help it!)

None of us know what's coming next. All we know is that life has big waves. I do know that no matter what, I have my faith, and the love of my family. Even if I'm dashed on the rocks, they'll be there.

And maybe … being shaken up by life will land me right where I’m supposed to be.

How about you? Any big waves rock your world lately?

If so, I hope you land in the sand, and find yourself holding a drink with one of those little umbrellas, and a great romance novel.

Aloha, Cathryn

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Cassiel Knight's Key of Solomon; Relic Defender

Cathryn, thanks for letting me post on your blog.
Recently, I was asked a question that took me back a bit and made me think about something at the core of why I’m a writer. The question was if there were parts of my debut release with Samhain taken from my real life. You know, some writers use past or current experiences and some have specific themes that teach a lesson or highlight a problem in society. And that’s great. But that’s not why I write or what I think about when I craft a story.

The answer to the question is that no, my stories don’t really take anything from my life – past or present. I write them for pure entertainment. For the joy of immersing myself in a setting, in characters I love being around (even the bad guys) and even for the research. Because I write stories with archeological (huge fan of Indiana Jones and Tomb Raider) and mythological elements, I set out to have an adventure – for my characters and my readers. Maybe there’s a message there – in the end – but I don’t conscientiously try to create one. My stories are my way of enjoying the world around me. Our daily lives are often fraught with stress and worries that, to me, are best relieved through the power of the written word. When I read and write – I want to be entertained. And that’s what I will always strive to do for my readers. Entertain. And hey, if you learn something along the way, that works too. Happy Reading!

Relic Defender: Key of Solomon

Coming March 1, 2011 from Samhain Publishing

Book 1 of the Relic Defender series

Trust no one…except the one who walks in the dark.

Anthropology PhD candidate Lexi Harrison never bares it all when she belly dances for a strip club crowd. She doesn’t have to—she’s that good. Every performance earns money toward her degree, and restores the sense of power her painful childhood ripped away.

Something is different about tonight. A man whose silver gaze seems to touch her skin beneath her veils. When a rowdy customer crosses the line, he comes to her rescue with the speed of a hawk—complete with wings.

Mikos Tyomni has never seen anyone dance like Lexi. Trust his tormentor, Archangel Michael, to put him in close contact with the cause of his downfall: a mortal woman. Particularly this mortal woman. The Defender. He has only thirty days to win her trust before Hell’s deadliest demon attempts the mother of all prison breaks.

No matter how sexy the messenger is, Lexi’s career plans don’t include some crazy idea she’s the last line of defense against the forces of evil. Until her university mentor’s murder leaves her holding the key to Hell. And fighting a losing battle against a passion forbidden by Heaven.

This title contains a dark and sexy fallen angel, bad-ass demons, a heroine with kick-assitude tossed together with mythology, archeology and a shape-shifting rock with a fondness for the gangsters of the 1920s.
Please check out my Virtual Book Launch website, to read more excerpts and for a chance to win some great door prizes.
            Chapter One
“Greed is a fat demon with a small mouth and whatever you feed it is never enough.”
            Janwillem van de Wetering
Chicago, Illinois
University of Chicago
Present Time

Lexi Harrison stalked the hallways of Haskell Hall, the sound of her low-heeled cowboy boots making a satisfying click on the tiled floors. A swift-moving current of fellow students within the Anthropology Department flowed around her, their frenetic movements signaling the approach of the end of the year. This late in the year, no one moved like the proverbial tortoise. Not when finals and dissertations were coming up fast.

In fact, if it hadn’t been for her professor’s urgent summons, by special courier to her apartment for Pete’s sake, she wouldn’t be here herself. Every spare hour, no, second, she had was slotted for polishing her dissertation.

Within the next month, she’d graduate with her PhD and be able to start her new job with the Anderson Wyatt archeological team in the cisternas of Peru. Her fondest wish come true. She didn’t have time to waste. Lexi pursed her lips. Except Professor Xaviera wasn’t just a professor. He’d given so much to her and in so many ways, acted as the father she never had. He called. She came running. No questions. Confusion, definitely, but no questions.

She came to an abrupt halt in front of his office door. A roil of unease curled in her stomach. Why the hell was his door closed? A gregarious man, he preferred a near constant ebb and flow of students and colleagues into his sanctum. A smile twitched on her lips at the memory of one occasion she’d come up on him arguing with the Dean and head of the Anthropology Department.
“I’m the oldest damn professor on staff, and if I want the damn door gone, the damn door should be gone,” she’d heard him shout.

His strident tone had ricocheted down the hallways bouncing off eardrums and making glass shudder. Her professor had lost that battle. One of the few to her knowledge. Since then, she’d never seen the door closed. Until now.

She knocked once before entering. At first, she didn’t see the tall, lean almost Icabod-Cranish skeletal figure of Professor Xavier.

“Please close the door, Lexi.”

Was that her professor? The soft, scratchy voice was nothing like his normally robust and booming tones. After complying, she turned toward the large armchair sitting near a small floor lamp. Professor Xavier sat in the tattered chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

Actually, what he did could not be called sitting. Like a deflated vinyl doll, he slouched, his lean frame bent as if only a little air kept him upright. To her searching gaze, he looked defeated. Broken. Her stomach lurched. As if he’d been forced to do something he didn’t want to do. Were all her carefully crafted plans about to come crashing down like a house of cards? The unease twirling in her gut kicked into high gear.

“Professor, you wanted to see me?” she said.

He didn’t move. Didn’t lift his head. Didn’t twitch. She waited a few seconds. Caught herself rocking with impatience and forced herself to stand still. Then waited a few more seconds. “Professor?” she asked when the seconds stretched into a long-ass minute.

His narrow shoulders lifted into a huge sigh. When his eyes plunged into hers, she started, her weight shifting backward at the lost expression in his dark gaze. What the hell was wrong with him?
Xaviera’s lips pulled into a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you for coming in.” He gestured to the ladder-back chair that sat opposite his. “Please have a seat. This won’t take long.”

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Don't you love finishing a task?

Ah, the satisfaction of a creative task accomplished.
A series written, accepted, and then published.
The joy of watching each book climb the sales charts, as readers decide it, too, is a fine use of their hard-earned money.
The scurry of posting to my website, to the loops, blogging, Facebooking and Tweeting to let as many readers as possible know the book is available.

And then ... the absolute sense of freedom. I can write anything I want. No world already built, no characters to stay true, no limitations, no established strictures. Sci Fi, paranormal, historical ... or even a combination of these, in steampunk or gaslamp.

Oh, criminy. The terror. Which way to go? Which of the many, many butterfly ideas to snatch from the air and feed, nurture and develop into a strong, beautiful bird capable of carrying reader on a flight of your imagination?

Weeks of indecision, of starting new stories, of bringing out old stories and fiddling with them, of casting them all aside. Time to read, lovely luxurious hours to immerse myself in other authors' fabulous worlds of romance.

Until one day, creativity has been fed enough, and from the fertile recesses, the idea that perches in my mind, hanging on more tightly than the others. Suddenly growing in bursts of color and fluttering wings. Settling in, characters coming to life in their strengths and weaknesses. The alpha males who will be brought to their knees by the most powerful force in any world--love. The flawed, yet brave heroines who will stand up to them, and lie down with them, along their adventurous path to true love.

And so it goes, in yet another world, another series. I look forward to sharing it with you, one of these fine days. Until then, stay tuned. You never know which way butterflies will fly.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Deep Indigo

The final chapter in The Orion Series debuts February 15 from Samhain Publishing. Catch it on pre-sale now.

I've had so much fun creating the alpha males and feisty heroines who inhabit the world of Orion. In a way, I've saved the best for last.

I always thought Spock was the most intriguing character in those fab old reruns of Star Trek--all that intellect and power, held in check with such superb control, passion seething under that chill exterior. Love the way his story was brought to the forefront in the new Star Trek movie, don't you?

In a way, Deep Indigo is a tribute to Spock. Ah, space opera. Hokey as you were, with cardboard sets and plastic masked aliens, we loved you.

Here's a taste of the story. You won't find this excerpt anywhere but here ...

" Navos led her into his stateroom, only his years of training controlling the desire flaming inside him. He knew that after a battle, soldiers often found themselves in the grip of lust, the less honorable among them committing rape.

He and Nelah had just won a deadly battle, although fought with empathic power. And now this slender, naïve young woman had him ready to shove her up against the nearest wall and take her there.

He’d nearly done so in the elevator—he had the access codes to shut it down and blank all surveillance. And knowing she wouldn’t stop him inflamed him. However, he was damned if he’d behave as a mere human male.

He had a thousand years of Indigon evolution in at least half of him and he meant to make sure that half remained uppermost, even in what promised to be a heady liaison. He might be throwing his rules about sex with passengers out the escape hatch, but he was still Indigon.

As the hatch slid shut behind them, he led her across the few steps to the large bed waiting in the shadows and turned her toward him. He wanted nothing more than to unwrap her like a gift and enjoy her tender body with slow care, but he had little time.

They both needed sleep. She would have it. He must go and aid in the investigation now beginning. Whoever the dead man was, whoever had been controlling him, he’d been acting as a terrorist. The Orion was obviously not rid of her tormentors.

But before Navos did the work at which he was so skilled, divining the patterns and motivations in a crisis situation, he desperately needed an outlet for the sexual flames fanned by their mind meld.

He sent his power twining about her, silently urging her close to him. She shivered visibly, her plum-like breasts rising and falling quickly as she fought for breath. Her eyes rose as far as his mouth, then her own lips parted on a shuddering sigh of surrender and she swayed toward him like a lovely, slender reed.

Triumph surged through him. She was so attuned to him. He spoke to her silently once more. Would she hear him, or had their earlier communication been a fluke, forged in the fire of urgency?

“Touch me.”

Her hands settled like birds’ wings on his chest, slipping up over the sleek fabric of his flight suit. She found the fastening at his throat, baring a long vee of flesh.

His hands curved around her tiny waist, urging, guiding. She swayed closer, first her moist breath and then her soft lips brushing against the column of his throat.

Every cell in his body thrilled.

“More!” He had to feel that torturously delicate exploration move up his throat, then down, across the smooth hardness of his chest, her eager hands pushing his flight suit back until her fingertips found his nipples. A hard shudder arrowed through him as she traced them.

She was trembling in his hands, a fact that filled him with savage delight. He wanted her shaking, wanted her desperate for him.

He pushed his loins against hers, rocking his erection into the juncture of her thighs as she tasted his skin with the tip of her silky little tongue. He hung on the feathered edge of orgasm. His nostrils flared, jaw clenched, as he fought the urge to let go just from the graze of her mons on his straining phallus.

But no, he wanted every bit of her, wanted to be deep inside her before he put them both out of this delicious agony.

He traced just the fingertips of one hand, so large against her delicate frame, up the sleek front of her flight suit, over one pebble-hard nipple thrusting underneath, up under her chin, tipping her face toward his. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, dazed. Good.

He nipped at her lower lip—hard. “Open your suit to me.”

She fumbled with the fastening under her chin, her eyes drowning in his. It parted under his waiting fingertips. He slid his fingers down with hers, so under his tutelage she unfastened the garment clear to her belly. Her skin was unbelievably silken, shivering at his touch.

His mouth hovering against hers, he stroked the suit open farther, until his fingertips found the firm mound of her mons. Ah, like a velvet peach and a few inches farther, the luscious juicy center of the fruit, the sleek folds of her vulva. Indigons had only the faintest traces of hair around their sex. It gave the women a delicate, vulnerable beauty.

She whimpered some incoherent plea against his lips, her hips tilting forward to meet his touch.

“Yes,” he breathed into her mouth. “Give yourself to me.”

“I already—have.”

... visit the Samhain site for more excerpts, and to buy the book.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Paty Jager Visits Today!

Cathryn, Thank you for having me here today.

I'm Paty Jager, a hardcore Oregonian who enjoys living and writing the western lifestyle. My eighth published book and second contemporary western romance, Bridled Heart, released last Friday. While it can't be slatted as the book of my heart, it is a story that I felt compelled to write. One reviewer said it should come with a warning even though it isn't graphic. The warning would be this book is about one woman's strength and belief in herself to overcome childhood sexual abuse.

I didn’t write this story as a downer in any way. I wrote it to give women who have had a similar experience in their life to know they can make a change and they can be happy.

This story is upbeat and leads the heroine, Gina Montgomery, on one more self discovery. That she can have a normal life after all she's been through. And the kicker- it's with a rodeo cowboy of all people. Having a stereotypical image of cowboys, she comes to learn that people can't be put into categories and you never know who can come along and change your outlook on life.

Gina is a stickler for rules. Ones she makes for herself. Holt Reynolds, bareback bronc rider, is all about knowing when the rules should be broken. He realizes there is something special about Gina and also a sadness he was too busy to see in his suicidal sister.

The most fun I had writing this book was interviewing four-time and reigning PRCA World Champion Bareback Rider Bobby Mote and his wife Kate. They have a wonderful family and were very open and forthright in answering my questions about the rodeo lifestyle.

Do you like reading romance books about sensitive subjects?

If you visit my website ( and click on the Contest page you could win a copy of this book by answering the question and sending your answer to the contest link. You can also read excerpts from all my books. Stop by and visit my blog, I update it three times a week.

Here is the blurb and excerpt for Bridled Heart.

A specialized placement schedule and self-imposed vow of celibacy keeps ER nurse, Gina Montgomery, from getting too close to anyone. Music is her only solace and release from a past laced with abuse. But when that music draws the attention of a handsome bareback rider, her chosen solitary life—not to mention her vow—gets tested to the limits.

Holt Reynolds let his younger sister down when she needed him most. With the similarities to his sister far too evident in Gina, he can’t get the woman out of his head, or her poignant music out of his heart. But how can he find a way to free her bridled heart before the past resurfaces to destroy their one chance at happiness?


“Why do you help with this event?” He laced his fingers together resting his hands on the table in front of him. His coffee-colored gaze held admiration.
She dropped her gaze and picked at her napkin. His interest was flattering, and he hadn’t attended the event just to inflate his image. If that had been his agenda, he would have stayed to be photographed with the person who purchased his art. She peered into his smiling face. He waited so patiently for her to answer. By this time most men would have given up on her and moved on to someone else. She searched his eyes. He seemed genuinely interested.
She took a deep breath and hoped she wasn’t going to regret divulging more. “I see so many children in the ER rooms who…” she turned her head and chewed on her cuticle. When they arrived needing her care, she put aside her emotions and did the job, but afterward, she always broke down. How could a parent do that to a child? She knew how it felt to grow up feeling different.
He placed a hand over the one on the table. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. I can see their plight affects you.” He squeezed her hand. “I could tell when you were playing the piano your heart is filled with sorrow.”
She stared into his eyes. The sincerity of his words and the acceptance of her pain, even though he thought it was all for others made her want to weep. She hadn’t had anyone care about her in so long, she didn’t know how to act.
Jerking her hand out from under his, she stood. “I have to go.”
“Wait.” He snagged her hand as she grabbed her coat from the back of her chair. “Do you have a phone number?”
He held her firm but gentle. Warmth spiraled up her arm and settled in her chest. Why didn’t she feel frightened or invaded by this man? She shook her head. She didn’t want to see him again. If she did, it would be hard to remain faithful to her vow. He’d started to seep into the empty cracks created over the years.

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Monday, January 17, 2011

January: Time for the Perfect Me to Emerge

This time of year, I pick up print periodicals or open one on my computer, and I'm bombarded with hints and tips to get the Perfect New Me to finally emerge from my all too human persona.

The perfect diet! The perfect exercise program! The perfect mental health regime! They're all there, if I just buy this magazine! Wow, cool!

Whoa, Cathryn. Metaphorical slap up-side the head, here. I don't diet anymore. Courtesy of the fabulous, I-can't-say-enough-good-things-about-this-woman Genene Roth. Google her, right now, if you're already exhausted and heartsick at the thought of one more $%@#* New Year's Diet That Will Finally Work.

Exercise? It's already crucial to my mental health. Writers spend an awful lot of time in our heads. Hey, amazing things are happening in here! You should see and hear what I've got rolling in the amazing technicolor movies in my head. Oh, wait, you've already read some of them--courtesy of Samhain Publishing, and the Free Reads on my website, grin.

As a reader, I spend time in my head, too. And usually in a chair of some sort. Either way, whether I'm spinning stories or enjoying others', I'm sitting.

My perfect antidote? Exercise. I'm hooked on the endorphins--those little happy pills that are released into my system when I take my golden retriever for a walk, dance around to loud music, pump iron at the gym, or ride my bike.

When I need to walk away from the tension of characters who will NOT behave, or how to get my new website to the best position on Google, or any of the other problems of steering my second career, I can. And I return refreshed and relaxed, and ready to have fun doing what I really want to do ... spin those technicolor fantasies into stories on the page.

'Cause I'm already close enough to perfect. Which is to say, not at all. I'm not supposed to be. That's not why God put me here. And no turn of the calendar, no diet, no exercise program can do it for me.

So excuse me, I hear a perfect fantasy calling! Gotta go get it on the page ... as well as I can, anyway. See you there!