I'll admit to an intense craving for chocolate more often than not, but when it comes to the ultimate candy passion, eye candy is the best. No calories. Only pure viewing satisfaction and always good for stimulating my creativity.
My favorite eye candy and hero has always been the cowboy. What's not to adore when reading and writing those salt-of-the-earth guys who go the distance, and when the dust settles at the rodeo or ranch, a cowboy has holds his loved ones in strong arms and inside a steady heart.
Talk about hot? Who wants this brave and perfect hero to put out your "fire" but, instead, hopes he generates lots of heat between the sheets?
Of all the dream destinations in the world, I'd bask in the precious moments of a fantasy-filled escape, sipping a bit of vino while studying all of the scenery in Rome or Venice. Gorgeous fountains and architectural feats might surround me, but my interest would most be piqued at the passing of a handsome Italian man.
Last, but certainly not least on my list of eye candy, is Kiefer. Watching this man for 24 hours, whether on t.v. or in person, would be a pleasure never to be forgotten.
Wishing you many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Showing posts with label Shawna Moore. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shawna Moore. Show all posts
The Devil's Daughter Dares to Leave Hell
Hellé is damned if she does and damned if she doesn't...leave Hell before another sunrise.
After the ten-thousandth fight with her father, the Devil's daughter is forced to surrender her trident and true love in order to save Earth from devastation of a magnitude it's never known. More than a few pulses are raised when Hellé Hawthorn and her minions hit Sin City on the hottest day of summer and make their business every man's pleasure.
Excerpt from the erotica paranormal romance, HELLE IN HEELS by Shawna Moore --
Naked except for some of my favorite gold jewelry, I took one last look at the hellhole that had served as my private domain since birth. Lavender-blue deposits of ameniorite, a rare gem as yet undiscovered by those aboveground, twinkled where my mirrors weren’t placed. Gorgeous ameniorite, the miracle rock that would seal the success of my elixir—or drop me back down to Hell and a fiery grave. A glance in all directions made my last memory.
Whatever I needed, I would pick up at the chic boutique on Bourbon. On the cedar chest, my favorite Kate Spade satchel lay open. If I were into blessing people, I’d bless the generous clotheshorse that descended here after an untimely death late last week. Who would have thought my pairing her with a wicked fashion designer would gain me such a special gift? She’d perished while still clutching that trendy piece and brought it with her to Hell. What a shame to let that lovely handbag behind. But better here than being reduced to ashes upon my special ascent.
Caminosh would find my goodbye note and claim the spring bag sought by many on Earth. She was a she-beast totally clueless about fashion but a friend to the end. Too bad she wouldn’t part company with her hell-raiser and accompany me to what lay thousands of feet above us. I blew a kiss at the far mirror. As long as she polished these lovelies, I wouldn’t care if she took over my favorite spot in the whole wide underworld.
But if a single fingerprint marred their shiny surfaces, I’d find a way to pay her a visit on Halloween and make her ass-length brunette hair curl like a poodle’s.
I wound my black mane into a knot and fastened it with a fistful of pins. They’d likely all fall out upon my ascent, but at least they’d keep my hair in place until then. Stifling a yawn, I flexed the fingers not covered from bottom knuckle to middle by bands of gold. Once I arrived in New Orleans I’d pay for my shopping spree with a couple of them. The shop owner would be far ahead in the transaction, since I always believed in heavy tipping.
I might be the Devil’s daughter, but I never had to steal anything—even a date to the Devilish Debs dress balls in years past.
And once I hit the jackpot at Harrah’s, my day spa and massaging divas would be on the lips of every male.
I claimed the vial from the champagne satin comforter, pulled out the cork and tossed down the bitter deep-purple contents. My gut roiled but soon got over its snack. Hopefully my body would cooperate once I passed from my world to the real world. Unknown to others, I’d reached the Kellion level several times but my lack of focus and the fact I had the hots for a particularly handsome former rugby player prevented me from breaking through.
Today failure wasn’t an option. If I did, I’d perish in the pit of which so many had spoken in hushed tones. Hell wasn’t home for me anymore, with Satan out to claim more than my soul because of a good argument gone bad after too many rounds and too many centuries.
I smashed the vial against the far cave fall and ground the glass shards into the spaces in the rock flooring.
Without a backward glance I rushed from the room and made my way to the Crystal Chamber. My body was already vibrating, my bones closing upon themselves. I quickened my pace and traveled through the various tunnels and passageways at warp speed.
At reaching the sapphire-inlaid altar, I clutched myself, fingernails digging into the flesh of my triceps. Flames rose from the adjacent fire pits. Smoke curled toward an interminable blackness. The same blackness my body would soon penetrate. A tapping beset my skin. I stared at the stalactites encrusted with rich mineral deposits. Those deposits contained the most powerful energy down here other than that emanating from His Royal Pain-in-the-Ass, my father, the Devil.
I took several steps to the right and poised my right great toe over the rendering of Bacchus and the left over the Pyramids. Egypt and Rome were diametrically opposed cultures, but my research and formulas yielded these were my markers for a journey to New Orleans. My skin pulsed and violent spasms rocked me from my hair roots to my heels. I stretched my arms toward the sky that lay well beyond this world and my imagination. Energy exchanged between my body and the space where the crystals lay. Every pore on my body now seeped the substance providing the elements and energy that would draw me up and away from the world where I no longer belonged.
A peculiar force hauled me from the platform and I closed my eyes. The stench of damp rock. The nipple ring leaving my flesh. Cold fingers of air teasing my exposed body. A din that rendered me deaf except to the voice inside my own head. The voice that willed me to focus. Focus on getting the hell out of Hell.
As the air lightened, I opened my eyes. Swarms of mila bugs, each almost translucent and no bigger than a pin’s head, flitted in front of my face. As my ascent stopped I puffed them away. I’d reached Kellion. Opening my fists, I drew my left middle fingertip over one of the protruding crystals directly above my head. Blood oozed from the wound and I milked out several more droplets. Then, placing my bleeding finger upon my tongue, I closed my mouth and eyes and focused.
“Blood from my body, serve as the final catalyst that allows me to pierce the Kellion and reach my desired portal.” I repeated the words over and over.
My body pulsed, this time as though tossed by the waves of the ocean during a storm. I shot upward, my hair wrenched from the pins and nearly pulled out by the roots. Bile rose in my throat. Tears burned behind my closed lids. Hot and cold air alternated in currents over my damp skin.
Bring it on, Bacchus. Laissez les Bon Temps Rouler. Let those good times roll like never before.
Click here for more information about HELLE IN HEELS
Click here for information about TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
After the ten-thousandth fight with her father, the Devil's daughter is forced to surrender her trident and true love in order to save Earth from devastation of a magnitude it's never known. More than a few pulses are raised when Hellé Hawthorn and her minions hit Sin City on the hottest day of summer and make their business every man's pleasure.
Excerpt from the erotica paranormal romance, HELLE IN HEELS by Shawna Moore --
Naked except for some of my favorite gold jewelry, I took one last look at the hellhole that had served as my private domain since birth. Lavender-blue deposits of ameniorite, a rare gem as yet undiscovered by those aboveground, twinkled where my mirrors weren’t placed. Gorgeous ameniorite, the miracle rock that would seal the success of my elixir—or drop me back down to Hell and a fiery grave. A glance in all directions made my last memory.
Whatever I needed, I would pick up at the chic boutique on Bourbon. On the cedar chest, my favorite Kate Spade satchel lay open. If I were into blessing people, I’d bless the generous clotheshorse that descended here after an untimely death late last week. Who would have thought my pairing her with a wicked fashion designer would gain me such a special gift? She’d perished while still clutching that trendy piece and brought it with her to Hell. What a shame to let that lovely handbag behind. But better here than being reduced to ashes upon my special ascent.
Caminosh would find my goodbye note and claim the spring bag sought by many on Earth. She was a she-beast totally clueless about fashion but a friend to the end. Too bad she wouldn’t part company with her hell-raiser and accompany me to what lay thousands of feet above us. I blew a kiss at the far mirror. As long as she polished these lovelies, I wouldn’t care if she took over my favorite spot in the whole wide underworld.
But if a single fingerprint marred their shiny surfaces, I’d find a way to pay her a visit on Halloween and make her ass-length brunette hair curl like a poodle’s.
I wound my black mane into a knot and fastened it with a fistful of pins. They’d likely all fall out upon my ascent, but at least they’d keep my hair in place until then. Stifling a yawn, I flexed the fingers not covered from bottom knuckle to middle by bands of gold. Once I arrived in New Orleans I’d pay for my shopping spree with a couple of them. The shop owner would be far ahead in the transaction, since I always believed in heavy tipping.
I might be the Devil’s daughter, but I never had to steal anything—even a date to the Devilish Debs dress balls in years past.
And once I hit the jackpot at Harrah’s, my day spa and massaging divas would be on the lips of every male.
I claimed the vial from the champagne satin comforter, pulled out the cork and tossed down the bitter deep-purple contents. My gut roiled but soon got over its snack. Hopefully my body would cooperate once I passed from my world to the real world. Unknown to others, I’d reached the Kellion level several times but my lack of focus and the fact I had the hots for a particularly handsome former rugby player prevented me from breaking through.
Today failure wasn’t an option. If I did, I’d perish in the pit of which so many had spoken in hushed tones. Hell wasn’t home for me anymore, with Satan out to claim more than my soul because of a good argument gone bad after too many rounds and too many centuries.
I smashed the vial against the far cave fall and ground the glass shards into the spaces in the rock flooring.
Without a backward glance I rushed from the room and made my way to the Crystal Chamber. My body was already vibrating, my bones closing upon themselves. I quickened my pace and traveled through the various tunnels and passageways at warp speed.
At reaching the sapphire-inlaid altar, I clutched myself, fingernails digging into the flesh of my triceps. Flames rose from the adjacent fire pits. Smoke curled toward an interminable blackness. The same blackness my body would soon penetrate. A tapping beset my skin. I stared at the stalactites encrusted with rich mineral deposits. Those deposits contained the most powerful energy down here other than that emanating from His Royal Pain-in-the-Ass, my father, the Devil.
I took several steps to the right and poised my right great toe over the rendering of Bacchus and the left over the Pyramids. Egypt and Rome were diametrically opposed cultures, but my research and formulas yielded these were my markers for a journey to New Orleans. My skin pulsed and violent spasms rocked me from my hair roots to my heels. I stretched my arms toward the sky that lay well beyond this world and my imagination. Energy exchanged between my body and the space where the crystals lay. Every pore on my body now seeped the substance providing the elements and energy that would draw me up and away from the world where I no longer belonged.
A peculiar force hauled me from the platform and I closed my eyes. The stench of damp rock. The nipple ring leaving my flesh. Cold fingers of air teasing my exposed body. A din that rendered me deaf except to the voice inside my own head. The voice that willed me to focus. Focus on getting the hell out of Hell.
As the air lightened, I opened my eyes. Swarms of mila bugs, each almost translucent and no bigger than a pin’s head, flitted in front of my face. As my ascent stopped I puffed them away. I’d reached Kellion. Opening my fists, I drew my left middle fingertip over one of the protruding crystals directly above my head. Blood oozed from the wound and I milked out several more droplets. Then, placing my bleeding finger upon my tongue, I closed my mouth and eyes and focused.
“Blood from my body, serve as the final catalyst that allows me to pierce the Kellion and reach my desired portal.” I repeated the words over and over.
My body pulsed, this time as though tossed by the waves of the ocean during a storm. I shot upward, my hair wrenched from the pins and nearly pulled out by the roots. Bile rose in my throat. Tears burned behind my closed lids. Hot and cold air alternated in currents over my damp skin.
Bring it on, Bacchus. Laissez les Bon Temps Rouler. Let those good times roll like never before.
Click here for more information about HELLE IN HEELS
Click here for information about TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Romance Fiction--Where Do I Begin?
Beginnings and endings of my books are always the hardest parts for me to craft, especially the beginnings. "Fish out of water" and "reunion" stories are two of my favorites, for reading and for writing. I want to make sure to capture a reader's imagination from the start, and this can primarily be accomplished by placing the hero and heroine at the right moment in their romantic time line. Loving relationships are very precious. Just as a couple strives to sustain love and open dialogue, if a writer gets this journey out of the gate at the wrong pace, or forces a couple together before they are ready, a reader's interest will wane and the love story will become a fictional fatality.
In my erotica romantic suspense, ROUGHRIDER, Kimberly Taylor has decided to turn her relationship with Jack Dodson from platonic to passionate. She's a workaholic who rarely makes time for play until her feelings and frequent thoughts of her high-school "friend" are too difficult to deny. Jack has left the rodeo circuit and craves stability in a life he has always lived on the edge. I started this novel at the point where Kimberly finally agrees to take a short vacation and see if she can slay some of the sexual demons dogging her night and day. But once her curiosity strays from the welcoming safety of Jack's ranch, she learns the truth behind the troubled months and years that have passed during their time apart.
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
In my erotica romantic suspense, ROUGHRIDER, Kimberly Taylor has decided to turn her relationship with Jack Dodson from platonic to passionate. She's a workaholic who rarely makes time for play until her feelings and frequent thoughts of her high-school "friend" are too difficult to deny. Jack has left the rodeo circuit and craves stability in a life he has always lived on the edge. I started this novel at the point where Kimberly finally agrees to take a short vacation and see if she can slay some of the sexual demons dogging her night and day. But once her curiosity strays from the welcoming safety of Jack's ranch, she learns the truth behind the troubled months and years that have passed during their time apart.
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Summertime -- Invigorating and Inspiring
Swooping seagulls chasing the summer breeze and each other. The slap of a fallen wave as it meets the shoreline and gently sizzles. Every breath of salty air tickling my nostrils and making me smile. Sand tickling the soles of my feet and sifting between my toes. Sunshine warming my skin. The buttery sweetness of caramel corn wafting along the Boardwalk. French fries, golden-brown from a peanut-oil bath, making my mouth water as they're scooped into a cardboard container. Red and yellow plastic buckets splashing water into sandcastle moats.
Summertime and trips to the beach have always spurred my imagination more than any other activity. Sensory overload in the most glorious way. Whether on a moonlight dinner cruise or cracking crabs on a patio after a sun-drenched day, my writing tablets are filled with details of my travels on the sand and boards. Even after I emerge from the ocean, and long before my hair is dry, I'm making memories and recording them on paper. Water dapples my arms and hands and drips onto the steno sheets, but the ink never blurs much.
Backyard barbecues where burgers flipped and shoes flip-flopped. As the sun set, mosquitos buzzed but not nearly as loud as those filling lounge chairs and reclining on blankets. Citronella candles soon burned and banished those winged warriors. Lightening bugs filled coffee cans and glass jars covered with lids in which we'd punched holes.
Here are a few songs that capture the essence of summer and find me singing along whenever they're on the radio. Where did those days of riding my bike with the transistor radio tucked into the basket go? Not too far away, for they live among my fondest memories...
Surf, swim, smile & enjoy your summers,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Summertime and trips to the beach have always spurred my imagination more than any other activity. Sensory overload in the most glorious way. Whether on a moonlight dinner cruise or cracking crabs on a patio after a sun-drenched day, my writing tablets are filled with details of my travels on the sand and boards. Even after I emerge from the ocean, and long before my hair is dry, I'm making memories and recording them on paper. Water dapples my arms and hands and drips onto the steno sheets, but the ink never blurs much.
Backyard barbecues where burgers flipped and shoes flip-flopped. As the sun set, mosquitos buzzed but not nearly as loud as those filling lounge chairs and reclining on blankets. Citronella candles soon burned and banished those winged warriors. Lightening bugs filled coffee cans and glass jars covered with lids in which we'd punched holes.
Here are a few songs that capture the essence of summer and find me singing along whenever they're on the radio. Where did those days of riding my bike with the transistor radio tucked into the basket go? Not too far away, for they live among my fondest memories...
Surf, swim, smile & enjoy your summers,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Rejuvenating and Recharging
Never more than when springtime is first stirring do my thoughts turn toward warmer weather pursuits and ways to have fun in the great outdoors. Gardens are abloom. The lush carpet of a lawn cradles my feet, but the naughty blades of grass sometimes tickle my toes and make me laugh as I travel from frontyard to backyard. Buds appear on the trees. Birds begin their seasonal chorus. Spring onions poke through soil dampened from a passing shower.
Whether indoor or outdoors, I celebrate life and do my best to accept its harsh realities knowing full well I've happened upon ways to recharge my creativity and rejuvenate my body and mind.
While some of these favorite energy and mood boosters are tailor-made for spring, some of them are savored the whole year 'round:
1. Embracing the man I love while the sun shines down upon us.
2. A latte, espresso or mocha sipped while sitting at an outdoor cafe.
3. Visits to the local ice cream shop to indulge in a hot fudge brownie sundae. Many of my hometown's residents eagerly await the seasonal opening of this favorite spot.
4. Nature walks.
5. Weekend mountain retreats.
6. Fishing at the lake.
7. Reclining in my favorite patio lounger while reading a good book.
8. Attending Major League and local baseball games.
9. Taking long walks around the neighborhood.
10. Making sun tea, especially when it's flavored with fresh mint from my garden.
11. Grilling and chilling
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read)-- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Whether indoor or outdoors, I celebrate life and do my best to accept its harsh realities knowing full well I've happened upon ways to recharge my creativity and rejuvenate my body and mind.
While some of these favorite energy and mood boosters are tailor-made for spring, some of them are savored the whole year 'round:
1. Embracing the man I love while the sun shines down upon us.
2. A latte, espresso or mocha sipped while sitting at an outdoor cafe.
3. Visits to the local ice cream shop to indulge in a hot fudge brownie sundae. Many of my hometown's residents eagerly await the seasonal opening of this favorite spot.
4. Nature walks.
5. Weekend mountain retreats.
6. Fishing at the lake.
7. Reclining in my favorite patio lounger while reading a good book.
8. Attending Major League and local baseball games.
9. Taking long walks around the neighborhood.
10. Making sun tea, especially when it's flavored with fresh mint from my garden.
11. Grilling and chilling
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read)-- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Guilty but in a Good Way
I'm usually not one who procrastinates or loses focus when I'm taking care of household tasks or at the office. The same holds true whenever I'm at the writing desk and plotting, researching or actively writing a manuscript. Notice I said "usually not...", but I'm human and prone to the caving in when tempted by certain distractions.
Tonight, the thunderstorm earlier was a major distraction but passed as quickly as it stirred.
Whenever my favorite Rock band is on television, whether in an interview, video or movie, I'll set aside whatever I'm working on to watch them with rapt attention.
The same holds true when the handsome face of the star of "24" appears on the screen. Can't wait for the movie to hit the theaters and to catch him "live" in a Broadway performance.
Cowboys and rodeo men don't need lassos to capture my attention...especially when they have moves like this rhinestone stud.
Batter up! Oh, yes, I grew up watching baseball with mom and cheering on the best birds to ever fly into any ballfield--the Baltimore Orioles. Gotta catch as many of their games as possible, whether on the radio or t.v. or, best of all, at the stadium.
One of the best things about distractions is the way they energize me and heighten my creativity. Even the most mundane task finds me returning to it with a smile on my face, a song in my heart, a spring in my step or all of the above after I satisfy the urge to succumb to those distractions.
Truth be told--all we need is love and some wonderful distractions to make our days and lives the best they can be!
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Tonight, the thunderstorm earlier was a major distraction but passed as quickly as it stirred.
Whenever my favorite Rock band is on television, whether in an interview, video or movie, I'll set aside whatever I'm working on to watch them with rapt attention.
The same holds true when the handsome face of the star of "24" appears on the screen. Can't wait for the movie to hit the theaters and to catch him "live" in a Broadway performance.
Cowboys and rodeo men don't need lassos to capture my attention...especially when they have moves like this rhinestone stud.
Batter up! Oh, yes, I grew up watching baseball with mom and cheering on the best birds to ever fly into any ballfield--the Baltimore Orioles. Gotta catch as many of their games as possible, whether on the radio or t.v. or, best of all, at the stadium.
One of the best things about distractions is the way they energize me and heighten my creativity. Even the most mundane task finds me returning to it with a smile on my face, a song in my heart, a spring in my step or all of the above after I satisfy the urge to succumb to those distractions.
Truth be told--all we need is love and some wonderful distractions to make our days and lives the best they can be!
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Seven Sentences of Tension and Torment
Bitten by a venomous beetle.
Drawn to the handsome doctor who promises her heal her sexually and physically.
Can he purge the poison from her body and her soul?
Here is an excerpt from my historical erotica romance, TORMENTED.
Click on this link for more information
At her nod he slipped another spoonful between her lips, and some of the custard dripped down her chin. His warm finger swiped it away. Charles’ soft sucking filled her ears before the silence between them resumed.
He’d licked his finger clean. The fire spread higher and claimed her breasts.
Her next swallow freed a giggle.
Charles patted her hands. “Still more?”
Wishing you many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Drawn to the handsome doctor who promises her heal her sexually and physically.
Can he purge the poison from her body and her soul?
Here is an excerpt from my historical erotica romance, TORMENTED.
Click on this link for more information
At her nod he slipped another spoonful between her lips, and some of the custard dripped down her chin. His warm finger swiped it away. Charles’ soft sucking filled her ears before the silence between them resumed.
He’d licked his finger clean. The fire spread higher and claimed her breasts.
Her next swallow freed a giggle.
Charles patted her hands. “Still more?”
Wishing you many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Helle is for Heroines
Of the heroines I've written, the Devil's Daughter, Hellé Hawthorn is my favorite. A spitfire in the truest sense, she proves she's more than just a pretty face.
Hellé is damned if she does and damned if she doesn't...
The Devil’s daughter survives a battle with ball lightening and learns her days in Sin City are numbered unless she consumes a precious mineral found only in Hell—the Hell from which she’s been banished.
Three men compete for Hellé’s attention. The first evildoer controls much of Vegas’ development and vows to destroy her. A second rogue as powerful as Satan hopes to dominate her. The third, an irresistible Greek fisherman, wants her until death parts them.
Hellé and her lover, Menlikus, embark on separate dangerous journeys with a common purpose. Their lives hinge on the cooperation of two persons—one who’s betrayed Hellé’s friendship, and one she doesn’t believe exists.
Click here for another excerpt and more information
Excerpt -- To Hellé and Back Again (Ellora's Cave Exotika)
The dark-blue glass clung to my fingers. Each cycle of Van’s menacing words burrowed them deeper into my gray matter. Wispy fog floated in front of my eyes. Stench such as that from sulfur deposits clogged my nostrils and throat and coated my tongue.
“You feel like watching?” Van turned and flashed me a fanged grin.
I’d missed the latest sale at Saks due to this graveside agenda but Van missed a conscience and good manners from birth. “I’ve seen far more horrendous sights when in Hell.”
“Come over here to the portal.” Van stared us down.
At reaching the narrow trench I stepped away while Van posed Men with his feet close the burial mound, straddling the open ground.
Now to see if Van possessed the ability to read minds. No sense going any further with this game if he did. The blackness behind my closed lids formed a swirling vortex. The Brekennium barrier—a protective shield that prevented brainwashing and mind-reading and was possessed by only by Satan and his offspring—lifted around my brain. Only by intense focusing could we hellish beings temporarily remove and later reconstruct this unique magnetic field inside our skulls.
Menlikus is far sexier than you. You couldn’t do me a hundredth as well or as deep.
With my eyes open I concentrated on Van’s closed lips and recycled the thought.
Not a single twitch.
Fang-Face heaved a breath toward the close-to-midnight sky. “Are you finished praying or whatever it was you were doing?”
Van wasn’t a mind-reader. Or if he was, one of my precious powers still remained—I could prevent others from getting inside my head and learning my thoughts.
Without answering I squeezed Men’s hand. “Quite.”
Caught in the moon’s glow, the claw on Van’s forefinger shone bluish-white. “Not so close to him. I have to prepare the Skave zone.”
Skave zone?
Men and I shrugged.
From the pouch positioned near where the knife lay buried to its handle in dirt, Van removed a small cloth bundle. After laying it on his left palm he unfolded the edges until all four corners hung over his hand. His right thumb and forefinger sank into the pile of reddish-brown powder and pinched together. He dusted the faintly sweet-smelling dust onto his tongue and took another measured portion between his fingers. Three times he performed the ritual, bending over the furrow and sifting the powder into the opening. A sneeze teased the back of my throat. I closed my fingers over my nostrils and caught the outburst but pitched forward. On removing my fingers the air in front of my face lay heavier than that a couple inches behind me. Cloying citrus-sweetness soothed the thumping in my temples and unknotted the muscles in the back of my neck and I righted myself.
“The flaçon of eshlew.” Van snapped his fingers.
Barely did I extend my arm before he snatched the fluid from me. A soft pop floated toward the sky as the stopper was freed from the neck. In the same way Barden drizzled oil over her garden salads, Van spread the cod-scented contents along the ground rift.
He slapped the stopper into place and dropped the empty bottle into his pouch. “Where’s the lighter?”
When I remained silent he fished in Men’s back pocket and produced the device. His thumb incited the strike wheel and a flame flared. He crouched and touched the dancing oval of energy to the edge of the trench. A blue flame leaped about a foot above the ground and tracked down the man-made furrow to the end. Van closed the lid and tossed the lighter behind me.
What at first resembled fish oil morphed into the aroma of roasting nuts.
Van’s laughter blanketed us.
The fence of fire climbed to within a couple inches of Men’s ten inches of glory. Van beat his hands toward the flames and they lowered by half.
Daddy would love that trick.
The longest claws adorned Van’s forefingers and he pointed the left one at Men’s heart. “Straddle the flames as I’m doing. Then you’ll be ready.”
Men started toward me but Van drifted between us before my lover made a third step. The sexy Greek with the heart of gold sought the pyre that might mark his own funeral if malice or a mistake prevented Men from reaching Hell and returning.
At the base of the flames a bubbling erupted. Sparks shot into the air. Glassy amber orbs formed as the bubbles shrank.
Without a doubt, Van wasn’t playing with all his marbles. And if this were his way of playing a sick practical joke, I’d deal with him in a way he wouldn’t like.
The madman’s amber marbles swelled a bit and hissed. Their surfaces clouded and the crackling intensified.
My nails gouged my palms and my throat muscles clenched. Menlikus posed over the pyre wearing a smile I’d always remember.
“Good riddance. Hope you stay down there.” Van chanted a few phrases in Latin and pierced the tip of Men’s right middle finger.
He milked a few drops of blood, turned Men’s hand so the palm pointed down and slapped the backs of my boyfriend’s fingers. The blood hit the fire and flared the blue flames a few inches higher. A ferrous tang replaced the roasted aroma.
Van swept around to Men’s right, grabbed a fistful of his hair and tipped his head toward his left shoulder. The walls of my veins cleaved closer together and more heartbeats launched toward my tongue.
Wishing you many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED -- Ellora's Cave
Hellé is damned if she does and damned if she doesn't...
The Devil’s daughter survives a battle with ball lightening and learns her days in Sin City are numbered unless she consumes a precious mineral found only in Hell—the Hell from which she’s been banished.
Three men compete for Hellé’s attention. The first evildoer controls much of Vegas’ development and vows to destroy her. A second rogue as powerful as Satan hopes to dominate her. The third, an irresistible Greek fisherman, wants her until death parts them.
Hellé and her lover, Menlikus, embark on separate dangerous journeys with a common purpose. Their lives hinge on the cooperation of two persons—one who’s betrayed Hellé’s friendship, and one she doesn’t believe exists.
Click here for another excerpt and more information
Excerpt -- To Hellé and Back Again (Ellora's Cave Exotika)
The dark-blue glass clung to my fingers. Each cycle of Van’s menacing words burrowed them deeper into my gray matter. Wispy fog floated in front of my eyes. Stench such as that from sulfur deposits clogged my nostrils and throat and coated my tongue.
“You feel like watching?” Van turned and flashed me a fanged grin.
I’d missed the latest sale at Saks due to this graveside agenda but Van missed a conscience and good manners from birth. “I’ve seen far more horrendous sights when in Hell.”
“Come over here to the portal.” Van stared us down.
At reaching the narrow trench I stepped away while Van posed Men with his feet close the burial mound, straddling the open ground.
Now to see if Van possessed the ability to read minds. No sense going any further with this game if he did. The blackness behind my closed lids formed a swirling vortex. The Brekennium barrier—a protective shield that prevented brainwashing and mind-reading and was possessed by only by Satan and his offspring—lifted around my brain. Only by intense focusing could we hellish beings temporarily remove and later reconstruct this unique magnetic field inside our skulls.
Menlikus is far sexier than you. You couldn’t do me a hundredth as well or as deep.
With my eyes open I concentrated on Van’s closed lips and recycled the thought.
Not a single twitch.
Fang-Face heaved a breath toward the close-to-midnight sky. “Are you finished praying or whatever it was you were doing?”
Van wasn’t a mind-reader. Or if he was, one of my precious powers still remained—I could prevent others from getting inside my head and learning my thoughts.
Without answering I squeezed Men’s hand. “Quite.”
Caught in the moon’s glow, the claw on Van’s forefinger shone bluish-white. “Not so close to him. I have to prepare the Skave zone.”
Skave zone?
Men and I shrugged.
From the pouch positioned near where the knife lay buried to its handle in dirt, Van removed a small cloth bundle. After laying it on his left palm he unfolded the edges until all four corners hung over his hand. His right thumb and forefinger sank into the pile of reddish-brown powder and pinched together. He dusted the faintly sweet-smelling dust onto his tongue and took another measured portion between his fingers. Three times he performed the ritual, bending over the furrow and sifting the powder into the opening. A sneeze teased the back of my throat. I closed my fingers over my nostrils and caught the outburst but pitched forward. On removing my fingers the air in front of my face lay heavier than that a couple inches behind me. Cloying citrus-sweetness soothed the thumping in my temples and unknotted the muscles in the back of my neck and I righted myself.
“The flaçon of eshlew.” Van snapped his fingers.
Barely did I extend my arm before he snatched the fluid from me. A soft pop floated toward the sky as the stopper was freed from the neck. In the same way Barden drizzled oil over her garden salads, Van spread the cod-scented contents along the ground rift.
He slapped the stopper into place and dropped the empty bottle into his pouch. “Where’s the lighter?”
When I remained silent he fished in Men’s back pocket and produced the device. His thumb incited the strike wheel and a flame flared. He crouched and touched the dancing oval of energy to the edge of the trench. A blue flame leaped about a foot above the ground and tracked down the man-made furrow to the end. Van closed the lid and tossed the lighter behind me.
What at first resembled fish oil morphed into the aroma of roasting nuts.
Van’s laughter blanketed us.
The fence of fire climbed to within a couple inches of Men’s ten inches of glory. Van beat his hands toward the flames and they lowered by half.
Daddy would love that trick.
The longest claws adorned Van’s forefingers and he pointed the left one at Men’s heart. “Straddle the flames as I’m doing. Then you’ll be ready.”
Men started toward me but Van drifted between us before my lover made a third step. The sexy Greek with the heart of gold sought the pyre that might mark his own funeral if malice or a mistake prevented Men from reaching Hell and returning.
At the base of the flames a bubbling erupted. Sparks shot into the air. Glassy amber orbs formed as the bubbles shrank.
Without a doubt, Van wasn’t playing with all his marbles. And if this were his way of playing a sick practical joke, I’d deal with him in a way he wouldn’t like.
The madman’s amber marbles swelled a bit and hissed. Their surfaces clouded and the crackling intensified.
My nails gouged my palms and my throat muscles clenched. Menlikus posed over the pyre wearing a smile I’d always remember.
“Good riddance. Hope you stay down there.” Van chanted a few phrases in Latin and pierced the tip of Men’s right middle finger.
He milked a few drops of blood, turned Men’s hand so the palm pointed down and slapped the backs of my boyfriend’s fingers. The blood hit the fire and flared the blue flames a few inches higher. A ferrous tang replaced the roasted aroma.
Van swept around to Men’s right, grabbed a fistful of his hair and tipped his head toward his left shoulder. The walls of my veins cleaved closer together and more heartbeats launched toward my tongue.
Wishing you many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED -- Ellora's Cave
Our Romance was Ready for the Beach
Holidays spent with friends and family are sometimes filled with enough laughter to last a couple lifetimes, but when it comes to romance, summertime holds the record for many of my fondest memories.
The man who currently holds my heart a willing captive shared a blissful escape with me to Virginia Beach last summer. From the minute we pulled out of the driveway and set a course southward, we fully intended on making the most of our warm-weather getaway.
An early departure found us at our destination in time to behold a glorious sunrise. We embraced and kissed each other as the surf kissed the shoreline. What a perfect moment to take my breath away.
The sand tickled our toes as we headed toward the pier and early-morning fishermen. After engaging several of the line-casters in conversation, we returned to the SUV and gathered the beach-going gear. What better way to pass the time until our room was ready than stretching out on soft blankets or letting the waves carry us back to the shore?
Our bed and breakfast provided the ultimate in comfort and congeniality not to mention a fabulous spa tub. The garden welcomed us for some relaxing moments reading the local newspaper and visitor guides.
A stroll on the boardwalk found us greeted by Poseidon in all of his sculpted glory.
We sampled some of the finest seafood and Southern cuisine, but these fine dining experiences merely whetted our appetite for moonlit walks and giggling sessions spent in the Jacuzzi.
Time slipped away from us and the trip homeward loomed. We bid farewell to the place we'd chosen for our first vacation together and vowed to return. But I'll always remember that romantic retreat and remain thankful for the man I love more with each passing day.
Wishing you all many loving and happy moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
The man who currently holds my heart a willing captive shared a blissful escape with me to Virginia Beach last summer. From the minute we pulled out of the driveway and set a course southward, we fully intended on making the most of our warm-weather getaway.
An early departure found us at our destination in time to behold a glorious sunrise. We embraced and kissed each other as the surf kissed the shoreline. What a perfect moment to take my breath away.
The sand tickled our toes as we headed toward the pier and early-morning fishermen. After engaging several of the line-casters in conversation, we returned to the SUV and gathered the beach-going gear. What better way to pass the time until our room was ready than stretching out on soft blankets or letting the waves carry us back to the shore?
Our bed and breakfast provided the ultimate in comfort and congeniality not to mention a fabulous spa tub. The garden welcomed us for some relaxing moments reading the local newspaper and visitor guides.
A stroll on the boardwalk found us greeted by Poseidon in all of his sculpted glory.
We sampled some of the finest seafood and Southern cuisine, but these fine dining experiences merely whetted our appetite for moonlit walks and giggling sessions spent in the Jacuzzi.
Time slipped away from us and the trip homeward loomed. We bid farewell to the place we'd chosen for our first vacation together and vowed to return. But I'll always remember that romantic retreat and remain thankful for the man I love more with each passing day.
Wishing you all many loving and happy moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Love Isn't Only for Valentine's Day
What better time than February to find a folder of old Valentine’s cards and romantic mementos? I tugged open the ends of the scarlet ribbon and spilled the contents. Crooked red hearts shot through with squiggly arrows peeked up at me from one page—a page of white tablet paper on which my grade-school crush had covered with images and words revealing that he wanted to be my Valentine. The silver plastic Indian-head ring he had slipped on my index finger during one recess lay underneath other Valentine’s cards and letters from years past. I found a cute parking ticket one boyfriend had tucked underneath my wiper blade that told me how many kisses he wanted in payment. Payment for what, you might ask? Payment for speeding into his heart. Pink construction-paper hearts streamed across a golden-thread-wrapped cord. Those were the hearts I’d hung from my visor after the third date with a man I thought I’d marry some day. Didn’t happen, but we remained good friends for many years afterward. Nearby lay an empty miniature Whitman’s sampler inside of which I’d tucked the fortune from my cookie the night my at-the-time Valentine and I dined on cashew chicken and shrimp-fried-rice. The fortune read: “Someone special will come into your life when you least expect.”
Love and romantic commitment are often explored in the stories I’ve written and published. In real life, I’ve run the gamut from…
Puppy Love that made me tongue-tied, weak-kneed, and at a loss for the proper words…
To a more mature love built on faith, respect, sharing and caring…
Whether your Valentine’s Day begins with …
Love
Laughter
Chocolate
Or a Kiss
Whether you find a Frog Prince…
Or spend the day with your handsome hero…
Always remember true love isn’t simply for romance novel. A loving bond can and will withstand many trials and the test of time.
Wishing you all love and happiness,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
What's all the Fuss About
Waking up as a child on Christmas morning. Balancing on my bike without the training wheels. Earning a college degree. Seeing Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr in concert. Having my first book published. All of these events were exciting and resulted in cherished memories. How my mood soared and nothing could spoil the moments following. Synapses firing. Fingers tingling from adrenaline surges. Many sleepless nights, skinned knees, study sessions, and hours at the computer delivered the stuff of which dreams are made.
Some of my favorites are captured in these video bits. Twist, shout and celebrate your passions in life! Cheers!
The Beatles Arriving in America for the First Time --
Super Bowl Champion Colts --
Moon Landing in 1969 --
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace
Some of my favorites are captured in these video bits. Twist, shout and celebrate your passions in life! Cheers!
The Beatles Arriving in America for the First Time --
Super Bowl Champion Colts --
Moon Landing in 1969 --
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace
Blinking Less, Believing More
First breath. First words and steps. First kiss. First time of losing the heart and confessing love. These are all milestones in life. Accomplishments and events all based on growth of the body, mind and emotions. Sure, we all falter and sometimes fall on our faces, literally and figuratively, while focusing on goals and filling the days, hours and minutes with precious moments. But moving forward and refusing defeat of any sort is what ultimately makes a winner--a person who's trampled past defeat and fallen into step with the promise held by the future.
While pondering my goals for 2011, I recalled the following video from Kenny Chesney for DON'T BLINK. Both moving and motivational in words and visual content, this Country hit convinced me there's no time like the present to keep my eyes open wide for opportunity and embrace every possible living moment.
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
While pondering my goals for 2011, I recalled the following video from Kenny Chesney for DON'T BLINK. Both moving and motivational in words and visual content, this Country hit convinced me there's no time like the present to keep my eyes open wide for opportunity and embrace every possible living moment.
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Time and Love -- Hang on to Your Hopes
One of the most prolific duos in Pop music sang of hanging on to your hopes. Time passes. Scenery changes. But Simon and Garfunkel warned one must hold on to hope and keep the faith, no matter how bleak the situation. When it comes to love--real life or a fictional romance that unfolds between a book's covers--many precious relationships wouldn't have had a chance to stand the test of time if the couple involved hadn't taken a leap in the name of love.
One of my favorite themes to read or write involves a reunion. A rekindling of passion. The confession of a childhood crush that's matured and found roots in all the possibilities romance has to offer. A moment when time takes a deep breath and awaits the first embrace along the path to a pair's forever. The passage of time may have changed the hero's and heroine's physical appearance, but the feelings held in their hearts have grown stronger with each turn of a calendar page.
Kimberly Taylor and Jack Dodson have lost track of each other since the first pangs of teenage passion held them willing prisoners. Now they are on a collision course set by Cupid. A course the proves true love doesn't fade over time.
Time is bent on being their enemy in ROUGHRIDER, but they refuse to lose track of it or each other ever again.
Here's a video bit from my Erotica romantic suspense from Ellora's Cave Exotika:
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN--Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read)--Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER--Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS--Ellora's Cave
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace
One of my favorite themes to read or write involves a reunion. A rekindling of passion. The confession of a childhood crush that's matured and found roots in all the possibilities romance has to offer. A moment when time takes a deep breath and awaits the first embrace along the path to a pair's forever. The passage of time may have changed the hero's and heroine's physical appearance, but the feelings held in their hearts have grown stronger with each turn of a calendar page.
Kimberly Taylor and Jack Dodson have lost track of each other since the first pangs of teenage passion held them willing prisoners. Now they are on a collision course set by Cupid. A course the proves true love doesn't fade over time.
Time is bent on being their enemy in ROUGHRIDER, but they refuse to lose track of it or each other ever again.
Here's a video bit from my Erotica romantic suspense from Ellora's Cave Exotika:
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN--Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read)--Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER--Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS--Ellora's Cave
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace
Travel -- Fictional Trips to Find Love and a New Lease on Life
While I've always agreed with Dorothy Gale that, "There's no place like home," traveling to new and favorite places is one of my favorite pastimes. Not only does each trip provide great scenery and a welcome getaway, but it also gives me a chance to research locales which often are chosen as settings for my novels.
Each of my stories available at Ellora's Cave was set in a place I've visited on more than one occasion. Yes, even Hell is a spot where real-life events found me forced into its depths. While it's rewarding and exciting to launch into flights of fantasy, there was nothing more valuable to my writing than actually witnessing the fascinating details of those destinations and stimulating my senses with their overwhelming details.
In HELLE IN HEELS and TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN, the Devil's daughter uses her wits and sex appeal to survive against all odds when she's dealt the ultimate challenges by her fiendish father and various villains.
Kimberly Taylor returns to a small town in Texas to slay some sexual demons and explore erotic possibilities with the ROUGHRIDER who may become more to her than a childhood friend.
Eve Morneau is TORMENTED once she's bitten by a rare beatle. She suffers the pain and agony of its poison as well as betrayal by a loved one and a raging conflict between her morals and a sexual awakening by the man who must heal her malady that defies traditional medical therapy of the day.
Each of these women embarks on a journey that thrusts them into situations seemingly more than beyond their control. Only by taking leaps of faith and learning to trust in others, as well as in their feminine instinct, allows them to achieve personal success, heal their bodies and minds, and find the love they sought for so long.
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace
Each of my stories available at Ellora's Cave was set in a place I've visited on more than one occasion. Yes, even Hell is a spot where real-life events found me forced into its depths. While it's rewarding and exciting to launch into flights of fantasy, there was nothing more valuable to my writing than actually witnessing the fascinating details of those destinations and stimulating my senses with their overwhelming details.
In HELLE IN HEELS and TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN, the Devil's daughter uses her wits and sex appeal to survive against all odds when she's dealt the ultimate challenges by her fiendish father and various villains.
Kimberly Taylor returns to a small town in Texas to slay some sexual demons and explore erotic possibilities with the ROUGHRIDER who may become more to her than a childhood friend.
Eve Morneau is TORMENTED once she's bitten by a rare beatle. She suffers the pain and agony of its poison as well as betrayal by a loved one and a raging conflict between her morals and a sexual awakening by the man who must heal her malady that defies traditional medical therapy of the day.
Each of these women embarks on a journey that thrusts them into situations seemingly more than beyond their control. Only by taking leaps of faith and learning to trust in others, as well as in their feminine instinct, allows them to achieve personal success, heal their bodies and minds, and find the love they sought for so long.
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace
Festivals -- Celebrating Fall and Life
As an author I’ve always favored onsite and hands-on research to that conducted online and using printed materials as reference resources. There’s the exhilaration of stepping back in time while attending WWII and Civil War reenactments that indulges my passion for research and stimulates my senses in a most creative way.
Recently my significant other and I spent several unforgettable weekends admiring the handicrafts offered by artisans and laughing at pie-eating contests where adorable children ended up wearing more apples than they’d consumed. These were also days when diets were dismissed, and we were drawn to delicacies such as savory breads, frosted turnovers and petite pasties filled with baked apples and dusted with powered sugar. A local winery teased and pleased our palates with some of its prize-winning and newly-introduced vintages. We posed beside field surgeons, operated switchboards, and attended various lectures on a host of topics by veterans of The Battle of the Bulge, D Day and The Invasion of Okinawa. Some of my favorite photos include those where my boyfriend brandished an M1 carbine while wearing a helmet and mile-wide smile. We chatted at length with a paratrooper who later kindly forwarded us a tape of one his commemorative presentations. This is a memento we will always cherish along with the honor of being in his esteemed company that sun-filled fall day.
But although the festivals and historical programs gifted us with many fond memories, perhaps the thing we ended up most celebrating was the fact we were alive, well-nourished and proud to be Americans thanks to those who served our country and farmed the crops of our fabulous nation.
Wishing you all the best for the fall season and beyond,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN – Ellora’s Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) – Ellora’s Cave
ROUGHRIDER – Ellora’s Cave
HELLE IN HEELS – Ellora’s Cave
Recently my significant other and I spent several unforgettable weekends admiring the handicrafts offered by artisans and laughing at pie-eating contests where adorable children ended up wearing more apples than they’d consumed. These were also days when diets were dismissed, and we were drawn to delicacies such as savory breads, frosted turnovers and petite pasties filled with baked apples and dusted with powered sugar. A local winery teased and pleased our palates with some of its prize-winning and newly-introduced vintages. We posed beside field surgeons, operated switchboards, and attended various lectures on a host of topics by veterans of The Battle of the Bulge, D Day and The Invasion of Okinawa. Some of my favorite photos include those where my boyfriend brandished an M1 carbine while wearing a helmet and mile-wide smile. We chatted at length with a paratrooper who later kindly forwarded us a tape of one his commemorative presentations. This is a memento we will always cherish along with the honor of being in his esteemed company that sun-filled fall day.
But although the festivals and historical programs gifted us with many fond memories, perhaps the thing we ended up most celebrating was the fact we were alive, well-nourished and proud to be Americans thanks to those who served our country and farmed the crops of our fabulous nation.
Wishing you all the best for the fall season and beyond,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN – Ellora’s Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) – Ellora’s Cave
ROUGHRIDER – Ellora’s Cave
HELLE IN HEELS – Ellora’s Cave
Falling Leaves and Falling for Heroes
The rich aroma of coffee awaits you beyond the front door, but you take your time and savor the briskness of the breeze as it kisses your cheeks and you follow the lazy path of a falling leaf. The crimson, curled flesh that once bedecked a favorite tree’s limb flirts with a few blades of grass before being whisked away by another puff of wind. Your pulse is calming and you draw in a deeper breath and then blow it skyward.
Your journey is through, unlike the journey ahead of Eve Morneau.
A journey dependent upon her trusting a stranger who beguiles and puzzles her.
The following is an excerpt from my historical erotica romance, TORMENTED.
Charles pulled the straight-backed chair beside the rice bed. “Once you’ve removed your stocking, dangle your leg over my lap.”
A gasp half escaped her pretty mouth before she caught the tail end and swallowed it. “Very well.”
In anticipation of his request, she’d already rolled the leg covering to her knee.
He checked a smile. The stocking whispered as she slipped it from her leg.
Dignity and fine materials became her.
But so would bareness and the emergence of her seductive side.
He sat down and held out his hands. She laid the stocking aside and brought her lower leg within reach.
“I promise I won’t pinch you.” He winked and cupped her heel.
A smile flirted with her full lips. “Never said you would.”
And he never said he wouldn’t be tempted to pull her off that rice bed and kiss her until she couldn’t see straight. But where did that pencil near his right foot come from?
Only Adelaide wrote letters to her family on occasion and she always used quill and ink.
He glided his finger over Eve’s swollen flesh. The afflicted area measured approximately the size of a silver dollar. A pinprick demarcated the center of the wound where the beetle had bitten her. Similar to the gauge of a sewing needle.
Poison tented the reddened skin. He positioned his thumb and forefinger on either side of the bite and squeezed gently. Some of the poison swam near the surface but the rest had sought her bloodstream for transport throughout her body.
She cleared her throat. “What? Can you lance my leg and draw out the poison?”
Another rub of his finger made her wince. “It’s too late for that. But what I will do is make a tiny incision, an “x” if you will, in the middle. That will allow any surface poison to drain when you next bathe. And also ease the pressure building at the wound.”
“Do whatever is necessary.” Teeth gritted and head held high, she set her sights on the door.
His fangs would puncture her flesh with greater precision but she wasn’t quite ready to learn that secret. He could sneak a nip during her bath. If he pinched the area around the wound in the proper way she would barely feel the fleeting piercing.
From his vest he secured a small pocketknife and made two cuts—one vertically and one horizontally. A bead of blood shivered on the surface. His own skin stretched tighter over the bones and muscles. Eve removed a hankie from her bodice and dabbed away the droplet.
He let her go and stood. “I’ll swab a bit of medicine on there. Then I’ll reveal your surprise.”
Wishing you many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) – Ellora’s Cave
ROUGHRIDER – Ellora’s Cave Exotika
HELLE IN HEELS – Ellora’s Cave Exotika
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace
Your journey is through, unlike the journey ahead of Eve Morneau.
A journey dependent upon her trusting a stranger who beguiles and puzzles her.
The following is an excerpt from my historical erotica romance, TORMENTED.
Charles pulled the straight-backed chair beside the rice bed. “Once you’ve removed your stocking, dangle your leg over my lap.”
A gasp half escaped her pretty mouth before she caught the tail end and swallowed it. “Very well.”
In anticipation of his request, she’d already rolled the leg covering to her knee.
He checked a smile. The stocking whispered as she slipped it from her leg.
Dignity and fine materials became her.
But so would bareness and the emergence of her seductive side.
He sat down and held out his hands. She laid the stocking aside and brought her lower leg within reach.
“I promise I won’t pinch you.” He winked and cupped her heel.
A smile flirted with her full lips. “Never said you would.”
And he never said he wouldn’t be tempted to pull her off that rice bed and kiss her until she couldn’t see straight. But where did that pencil near his right foot come from?
Only Adelaide wrote letters to her family on occasion and she always used quill and ink.
He glided his finger over Eve’s swollen flesh. The afflicted area measured approximately the size of a silver dollar. A pinprick demarcated the center of the wound where the beetle had bitten her. Similar to the gauge of a sewing needle.
Poison tented the reddened skin. He positioned his thumb and forefinger on either side of the bite and squeezed gently. Some of the poison swam near the surface but the rest had sought her bloodstream for transport throughout her body.
She cleared her throat. “What? Can you lance my leg and draw out the poison?”
Another rub of his finger made her wince. “It’s too late for that. But what I will do is make a tiny incision, an “x” if you will, in the middle. That will allow any surface poison to drain when you next bathe. And also ease the pressure building at the wound.”
“Do whatever is necessary.” Teeth gritted and head held high, she set her sights on the door.
His fangs would puncture her flesh with greater precision but she wasn’t quite ready to learn that secret. He could sneak a nip during her bath. If he pinched the area around the wound in the proper way she would barely feel the fleeting piercing.
From his vest he secured a small pocketknife and made two cuts—one vertically and one horizontally. A bead of blood shivered on the surface. His own skin stretched tighter over the bones and muscles. Eve removed a hankie from her bodice and dabbed away the droplet.
He let her go and stood. “I’ll swab a bit of medicine on there. Then I’ll reveal your surprise.”
Wishing you many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) – Ellora’s Cave
ROUGHRIDER – Ellora’s Cave Exotika
HELLE IN HEELS – Ellora’s Cave Exotika
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace
Finally the Fantasy Becomes Reality
Every woman has an ultimate fantasy. Maybe that fantasy involves role- playing or a steamy getaway? Perhaps she's always dreamed of meeting a guy who's willing to do everything possible to make her fondest dreams and wishes become reality? Or maybe she's hoping to be swept away in mind-blowing moments of passion with a man she's secretly loved for many years--a passion that's grown stronger with each day that's passed since Dana last saw Jack.
Dana Taylor's a serious-minded businesswoman who's always put most of her energy into the Western-wear boutique she owns and operates. Free-wheeling Jack Dodson is a former rodeo champ who's tired of his glory days on the circuit and is bent on settling down and co-managing a ranch in Mesa Junction, Texas.
An excerpt from my erotica romantic suspense, ROUGHRIDER, occurs when Dana's fantasy never had a better chance at becoming reality.
“Jack’s sittin’ over there now.” He hitched a thumb toward the most delicious thing in this busy eatery. “Probably figuring how to deal with the woman you’ve become. As kids you two were tight as Harriet Lloyd’s pants.”
No sense telling Clyde that Jack was the main reason I’d come back. Clyde’s order could have been shipped but this visit-cum-vacation gave me an excuse to check out the guy of my dirtiest fantasies.
“Couldn’t stay away from Gloria’s fried chicken and buttermilk biscuits.” Wasn’t any of his business a far different appetite brought me back to Mesa Junction.
Placing his hands on his lower back, Clyde stretched. “Jack’s single. Wild as ever. Can’t say he hasn’t likely had his share of… Dated lots of women. But I’m betting you could set him straight.”
As long as I could set my childhood friend’s cock straight, that was first priority.
“You have my cell phone number. And the Mariana store’s number. Let Linc or me know if something doesn’t suit you all with the order.” And please let me get back to the late supper containing more calories than I’ve consumed in almost two days.
His arm came around my shoulders and the silver arrowhead on his bolo flashed. “Get on over there and kick some sense into Jack’s stubborn ass.” The palm slapped gently between my shoulder blades. “If he’ll listen to anyone, he’ll listen to you.”
A pivot of my feet put my both shoes in a semi-straight path with my lunch counter stool. “Nice talking with you today. Give my best to Trudy.” I peeked over my shoulder.
He walked away, stopped near the booth where Danny Noonan sat, and waved. “Sure will. Stop by if you get a chance. Ron Crawford still lives beside us. He never got over you.”
Never got over me? My feet paused over a crackling floor tile. I never even dated that nuisance who stuck cotton candy in my hair one summer at the county fair.
Suffering him for several weeks each summer was more than enough torture.
Jack disliked that mama’s boy as much as I. Sexy Jack gulped some of his soda and glanced in my direction. I swallowed a laugh. At my request, he would have helped me hogtie that little snitch years ago, then toss Danny into one of his daddy’s rusted-out fishing boats and shove him out of sight.
Footsteps came from behind. “Don’t ever let those stars in your eyes fade.” Clyde’s whisper hit my left ear.
A shake of my head sent the childhood memory back where it belonged. “Perhaps blood vessels from lack of sleep but hardly stars.” And it was time to end those sleepless nights and satisfy the hunger that consumed me.
The hunger for Jack Dodson.
While my recent dreams had him served up hot, naked and covered in blond hair on those cool white cotton sheets back in my king-sized bed in Mariana, I could accomplish the same on his bed here in Mesa Junction.
The place didn’t matter. The sexy man did.
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace
Dana Taylor's a serious-minded businesswoman who's always put most of her energy into the Western-wear boutique she owns and operates. Free-wheeling Jack Dodson is a former rodeo champ who's tired of his glory days on the circuit and is bent on settling down and co-managing a ranch in Mesa Junction, Texas.
An excerpt from my erotica romantic suspense, ROUGHRIDER, occurs when Dana's fantasy never had a better chance at becoming reality.
“Jack’s sittin’ over there now.” He hitched a thumb toward the most delicious thing in this busy eatery. “Probably figuring how to deal with the woman you’ve become. As kids you two were tight as Harriet Lloyd’s pants.”
No sense telling Clyde that Jack was the main reason I’d come back. Clyde’s order could have been shipped but this visit-cum-vacation gave me an excuse to check out the guy of my dirtiest fantasies.
“Couldn’t stay away from Gloria’s fried chicken and buttermilk biscuits.” Wasn’t any of his business a far different appetite brought me back to Mesa Junction.
Placing his hands on his lower back, Clyde stretched. “Jack’s single. Wild as ever. Can’t say he hasn’t likely had his share of… Dated lots of women. But I’m betting you could set him straight.”
As long as I could set my childhood friend’s cock straight, that was first priority.
“You have my cell phone number. And the Mariana store’s number. Let Linc or me know if something doesn’t suit you all with the order.” And please let me get back to the late supper containing more calories than I’ve consumed in almost two days.
His arm came around my shoulders and the silver arrowhead on his bolo flashed. “Get on over there and kick some sense into Jack’s stubborn ass.” The palm slapped gently between my shoulder blades. “If he’ll listen to anyone, he’ll listen to you.”
A pivot of my feet put my both shoes in a semi-straight path with my lunch counter stool. “Nice talking with you today. Give my best to Trudy.” I peeked over my shoulder.
He walked away, stopped near the booth where Danny Noonan sat, and waved. “Sure will. Stop by if you get a chance. Ron Crawford still lives beside us. He never got over you.”
Never got over me? My feet paused over a crackling floor tile. I never even dated that nuisance who stuck cotton candy in my hair one summer at the county fair.
Suffering him for several weeks each summer was more than enough torture.
Jack disliked that mama’s boy as much as I. Sexy Jack gulped some of his soda and glanced in my direction. I swallowed a laugh. At my request, he would have helped me hogtie that little snitch years ago, then toss Danny into one of his daddy’s rusted-out fishing boats and shove him out of sight.
Footsteps came from behind. “Don’t ever let those stars in your eyes fade.” Clyde’s whisper hit my left ear.
A shake of my head sent the childhood memory back where it belonged. “Perhaps blood vessels from lack of sleep but hardly stars.” And it was time to end those sleepless nights and satisfy the hunger that consumed me.
The hunger for Jack Dodson.
While my recent dreams had him served up hot, naked and covered in blond hair on those cool white cotton sheets back in my king-sized bed in Mariana, I could accomplish the same on his bed here in Mesa Junction.
The place didn’t matter. The sexy man did.
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace
Heaven Help the Heroine?
The heroines in novels face many horrors along their paths to finding true love and self-actualization. Cheating lovers. Loss of careers. Meddlesome casts of characters. And some of the most memorable ladies on film were tormented by mummies, werewolves and countless creatures who went bump in the night. In my erotic historical romance, TORMENTED, Eve Morneau is thrust into a world rife with mystery and secrets. Her torment is within and without. Eve’s soul and body are stirred by a physician who carries secrets of his own, one of which is that he is a vampire.
In this scene, Eve suspects the man who has promised to heal her wound may embrace the erotic as well as the unconventional.
Charles Galletiére touched his patients to make them better. And she’d certainly forgotten her trials and pain while Charles and she lay on the sofa earlier.
Her thoughts tumbled more, her legs straightened and she glanced in direction of the low growl. Though scarce time had passed since he’d entered, he now stood before the window.
“Again, I’m sorry our time together was interrupted. Lottie Banks dare not show her face around here again. She means nothing to me. Never did.”
His Southern drawl was so sweet. Like Grandmother Ellie’s strawberry jam on toasted bread. But his jaw remained set.
She looked him square in the face. His scowl softened and he approached the tub. Lithe as a jungle tiger he moved, his feet practically skimming the rugs and floorboards.
And the way he watched her. Sticking her hand into a pile of flaming logs wouldn’t burn as much as his gaze when it played over her body.
“Does the bath please you, Eve?” He knelt beside the tub and swirled his hand through the water.
She shifted and the soap skidded past her foot. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t look away. His scent was unlike any other man’s she’d ever met.
“It does, thank you.” Silly chit. Say something more or he’ll know you’re mesmerized.
The amber flecks in his eyes built to a bonfire. Soon he’d touch her. Where? Only near the wound? For how long?
Charles’ right hand plucked the cloth from her breasts. While staring her down, he reached under the water and between her legs. In another heartbeat his hand emerged, bearing the scented bar of tallow.
But how did he manage this feat without touching her?
Especially while watching her face and not what he was doing?
She closed her eyes for a moment before re-opening them.
“You’re still so tired, Eve. But I’m glad you’ve rested some.” His words quieted the clattering in her head. “You’ve had a difficult journey here. Surrender your care to me, dear one. Let me alleviate your suffering tonight.”
His eyes took on a more golden cast.
A strange calmness settled over her. Cloaking her body. So very nice. “Mmmm.” Unseen fingers pressed upon her eyelids and drew them down.
The washcloth skimmed over her upper back. Where wetness lingered, his hot breath hit. Jasmine essence filled the air. Glorious flowers. More pungent with each passing minute.
She jerked upright. Her breasts bobbed above the water. Something soft pressed against the back of her head. His lips kissing her? Charles’ hand glided the cloth over and around her right breast and repeated the cleansing on the left. Each pass of the soapy muslin cloth brought a tingling in her nipples that tracked to her belly and continued to her toes.
But he took no liberties.
Despite the low fire in the hearth, sweat beaded her brow and neckline.
Flames licked between her legs and she pulled them closed. Finished soaping and rinsing her breasts, Charles moved around to the opposite side of the tub. His hand split the surface and headed straight for her belly. Several droplets splashed onto her mouth and she licked them away. As the cloth met with her calf she grabbed the sides of the tub, straightened and opened her legs again.
His touch traveled along the fleshiest part of her thigh and came to rest just below her knee. “Has the water soothed the ache any?”
Her thoughts tangled much the same as a ball of yarn when in the paws of her pet kitten. Which ached more—her whole body for his touch or her leg from the beetle’s bite?
Words refused to come but this time her tongue remained unfettered and stirred some saliva.
She swallowed several times. “A bit but the pain is quite intense at times. And the fluid that seeps out has the most unbearable odor. You can see the seepage for yourself once my leg is out of the water.”
He abandoned the washcloth and his fingers closed around her ankle. Carefully he pulled the afflicted leg out of the water.
After propping her limb against the side of the tub he moved forward and lowered his face to the dripping appendage.
He touched the swelling with the tip of his tongue, pressed his teeth to the wounded flesh and reared back. “The foul work of an Artemis beetle. Most unfortunate.” His breath came hot against her wet skin.
Charles had bitten her. Either that or her mind was playing tricks.
But if he had bitten her, how would that heal her wound? “You can help me?”
He searched her face for a moment before his steely gaze settled on her heaving breasts. “I can rid you of the scourge this bug has cast upon your body.”
His lips puffed warm air over her wound. The soft hiss of breath from his nostrils and mouth dried her damp skin. An invisible but fiery knife tip prodded her belly.
Charles’ mouth played against the putrid wound. Slowly his jaw opened and his teeth again met her calf.
His nostrils flared, almost as a wild beast’s at the scent of its prey. The aroma of crushed spices came in with her next breath. His tongue lashed the sore spot and a dark veil drew over her eyes.
Wishing you many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELE AND BACK AGAIN – Ellora’s Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) – Ellora’s Cave
ROUGHRIDER – Ellora’s Cave
HELLE IN HEELS – Ellora’s Cave
Shawna’s Myspace
Helle’s Myspace
In this scene, Eve suspects the man who has promised to heal her wound may embrace the erotic as well as the unconventional.
Charles Galletiére touched his patients to make them better. And she’d certainly forgotten her trials and pain while Charles and she lay on the sofa earlier.
Her thoughts tumbled more, her legs straightened and she glanced in direction of the low growl. Though scarce time had passed since he’d entered, he now stood before the window.
“Again, I’m sorry our time together was interrupted. Lottie Banks dare not show her face around here again. She means nothing to me. Never did.”
His Southern drawl was so sweet. Like Grandmother Ellie’s strawberry jam on toasted bread. But his jaw remained set.
She looked him square in the face. His scowl softened and he approached the tub. Lithe as a jungle tiger he moved, his feet practically skimming the rugs and floorboards.
And the way he watched her. Sticking her hand into a pile of flaming logs wouldn’t burn as much as his gaze when it played over her body.
“Does the bath please you, Eve?” He knelt beside the tub and swirled his hand through the water.
She shifted and the soap skidded past her foot. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t look away. His scent was unlike any other man’s she’d ever met.
“It does, thank you.” Silly chit. Say something more or he’ll know you’re mesmerized.
The amber flecks in his eyes built to a bonfire. Soon he’d touch her. Where? Only near the wound? For how long?
Charles’ right hand plucked the cloth from her breasts. While staring her down, he reached under the water and between her legs. In another heartbeat his hand emerged, bearing the scented bar of tallow.
But how did he manage this feat without touching her?
Especially while watching her face and not what he was doing?
She closed her eyes for a moment before re-opening them.
“You’re still so tired, Eve. But I’m glad you’ve rested some.” His words quieted the clattering in her head. “You’ve had a difficult journey here. Surrender your care to me, dear one. Let me alleviate your suffering tonight.”
His eyes took on a more golden cast.
A strange calmness settled over her. Cloaking her body. So very nice. “Mmmm.” Unseen fingers pressed upon her eyelids and drew them down.
The washcloth skimmed over her upper back. Where wetness lingered, his hot breath hit. Jasmine essence filled the air. Glorious flowers. More pungent with each passing minute.
She jerked upright. Her breasts bobbed above the water. Something soft pressed against the back of her head. His lips kissing her? Charles’ hand glided the cloth over and around her right breast and repeated the cleansing on the left. Each pass of the soapy muslin cloth brought a tingling in her nipples that tracked to her belly and continued to her toes.
But he took no liberties.
Despite the low fire in the hearth, sweat beaded her brow and neckline.
Flames licked between her legs and she pulled them closed. Finished soaping and rinsing her breasts, Charles moved around to the opposite side of the tub. His hand split the surface and headed straight for her belly. Several droplets splashed onto her mouth and she licked them away. As the cloth met with her calf she grabbed the sides of the tub, straightened and opened her legs again.
His touch traveled along the fleshiest part of her thigh and came to rest just below her knee. “Has the water soothed the ache any?”
Her thoughts tangled much the same as a ball of yarn when in the paws of her pet kitten. Which ached more—her whole body for his touch or her leg from the beetle’s bite?
Words refused to come but this time her tongue remained unfettered and stirred some saliva.
She swallowed several times. “A bit but the pain is quite intense at times. And the fluid that seeps out has the most unbearable odor. You can see the seepage for yourself once my leg is out of the water.”
He abandoned the washcloth and his fingers closed around her ankle. Carefully he pulled the afflicted leg out of the water.
After propping her limb against the side of the tub he moved forward and lowered his face to the dripping appendage.
He touched the swelling with the tip of his tongue, pressed his teeth to the wounded flesh and reared back. “The foul work of an Artemis beetle. Most unfortunate.” His breath came hot against her wet skin.
Charles had bitten her. Either that or her mind was playing tricks.
But if he had bitten her, how would that heal her wound? “You can help me?”
He searched her face for a moment before his steely gaze settled on her heaving breasts. “I can rid you of the scourge this bug has cast upon your body.”
His lips puffed warm air over her wound. The soft hiss of breath from his nostrils and mouth dried her damp skin. An invisible but fiery knife tip prodded her belly.
Charles’ mouth played against the putrid wound. Slowly his jaw opened and his teeth again met her calf.
His nostrils flared, almost as a wild beast’s at the scent of its prey. The aroma of crushed spices came in with her next breath. His tongue lashed the sore spot and a dark veil drew over her eyes.
Wishing you many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELE AND BACK AGAIN – Ellora’s Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) – Ellora’s Cave
ROUGHRIDER – Ellora’s Cave
HELLE IN HEELS – Ellora’s Cave
Shawna’s Myspace
Helle’s Myspace
With a Little Luck
Paul McCartney and Wings hit the top of the music charts with a lovely song based on the first segment of my topic. But this award-winning, prolific musician from Liverpool was blessed with more than a little luck. It’s my opinion his career has been based on talent, hard work and tenacity. I believe he, and his band mates who formed the Beatles, couldn’t have scored decades of success relying only on luck. Their musical gift and ability to work through some pretty difficult times delivered their dreams and carved them a place in history. The same holds true for us authors.
But friends and family still bring up the four-letter word beginning with “l” and ending in “k”. It’s as though some believe we must be born with an angel atop our shoulder to reach our potential in life. Rather than an angelic presence, I tend to think of luck as being spawned by Satan. When luck eludes me, as has always been the case, I can hear him snickering as I endure soul-searching, self-doubting moments. And his outbursts only succeed in spurring me to work harder—which is a good thing and he ends up the laughingstock.
Mealtime is often when luck is mentioned. Recently, over a lunch at a local restaurant, a friend cornered me with, “You know you’ve never been lucky. How will you make your publishing dreams come true?” Needless to say, the salsa and chips soured in my stomach. I sipped some water and prepared a reply. While I admitted everyone is entitled to opinions and beliefs, I preferred hard work and persistence over relying on a magic touch that would propel into the hallway of my desired New York publisher. She smiled and wished me, well, you guessed it. Funny how I left the restaurant and drove away wondering if she truly was a friend or simply someone who enjoyed holding the “luck factor” over my head?
What do you all think? Does luck play a role in our successes, or will talent, hard work and persistence make our dreams become reality on a more regular basis?
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace
But friends and family still bring up the four-letter word beginning with “l” and ending in “k”. It’s as though some believe we must be born with an angel atop our shoulder to reach our potential in life. Rather than an angelic presence, I tend to think of luck as being spawned by Satan. When luck eludes me, as has always been the case, I can hear him snickering as I endure soul-searching, self-doubting moments. And his outbursts only succeed in spurring me to work harder—which is a good thing and he ends up the laughingstock.
Mealtime is often when luck is mentioned. Recently, over a lunch at a local restaurant, a friend cornered me with, “You know you’ve never been lucky. How will you make your publishing dreams come true?” Needless to say, the salsa and chips soured in my stomach. I sipped some water and prepared a reply. While I admitted everyone is entitled to opinions and beliefs, I preferred hard work and persistence over relying on a magic touch that would propel into the hallway of my desired New York publisher. She smiled and wished me, well, you guessed it. Funny how I left the restaurant and drove away wondering if she truly was a friend or simply someone who enjoyed holding the “luck factor” over my head?
What do you all think? Does luck play a role in our successes, or will talent, hard work and persistence make our dreams become reality on a more regular basis?
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace
Dancing and Dating
One, two cha-cha-cha. One partner going forward, the other going back. A flirty dance filled with desire. The push-pull of steps, emotions and magical exchanges of a couple sharing common interests and exploring their attraction. Capable of creating a chemical reaction far more powerful than any conjured in a laboratory. They’re eager to learn more about each other but worried about making missteps and mistakes. After all, broken hearts definitely hurt more and take longer to heal than toes that have been trod upon. In the beginning, the signals are sometimes coming fast and furious and are confusing to the point where neither knows whether the connection has the potential of lasting or will end up fleeting.
Unlike the romantic heroes we enjoy writing and reading about, great guys are often hesitant in making that first step in the dating dance. Yet I’ve heard from many that they prefer remaining the “hunter”. These guys like maintaining some distance while surveying the situation. Facing the “music” of a potential love match is daunting for them even though we’re ten years into the New Millennium.
As an author, I adore writing Cinderella stories. From a creative standpoint, I’ll compare her bare foot to a single woman’s bare left ring finger. Her love bond begins with a slipper while a modern woman’s begins with an engagement ring. But although Cinderella and her Prince Charming may have waltzed their way into each other’s lives and hearts, in today’s society life happens at warp speed and sometimes slams couples together much as the people in a mosh pit. Love, or what is professed as love, is here today and gone tomorrow. Instead of the controlled, graceful tempo embraced by the storybook couple, dating today creates whirling dervishes who lose control of their love connection—or who never have a chance at making a connection due to erratic pacing.
Before writing this blog, I pondered some of the many dances in which couples engage from their first meeting to the moment of a marriage proposal. The melody and words of “At Last” played in my mind. What a delicious slow burn on the dance floor that song intimately ignites. I’m a woman who enjoys a varied pace throughout the relationship, but I prefer a slower dance at first. A dance where every breath, every movement, every word is felt and heard and savored. Save the fastest dances for those dervishes as I believe love belongs in a ballroom as opposed to on a break-dancing mat. I’ve always said I’m a romantic at heart but a realist in practice. True love definitely happens but it is hard won, especially if you’re tapping so fast your feet become numb. Ever try putting a shoe on a foot that has “fallen asleep”? Slow and steady, with moments of spontaneity, are what make a better love connection, in my opinion.
In my historical erotic romance novel, TORMENTED, Eve and Charles engage in many dances together in their quest for healing—both emotional and physical—and love.
A Boston socialite’s hope is blind but given sight when a handsome practitioner accepts her challenging medical case.
While shipboard in 1888, Eve Morneau is the victim of a venomous beetle’s bite. Her healing and sexual awakening are placed in the hands of a New Orleans physician, Charles Galletiére. Charles not only shuns society but also the treatment regimens practiced by his peers. Eve is pitted against more than one foe as she struggles with her attraction to Charles and wonders whether or not her cure and a romantic commitment from him are possible.
What about you, readers? Do you enjoy and prefer sexual tension and romantic build-up in the fiction you read and the relationship you cherish? Or is a whirlwind romance more of what you find exciting?
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace
Unlike the romantic heroes we enjoy writing and reading about, great guys are often hesitant in making that first step in the dating dance. Yet I’ve heard from many that they prefer remaining the “hunter”. These guys like maintaining some distance while surveying the situation. Facing the “music” of a potential love match is daunting for them even though we’re ten years into the New Millennium.
As an author, I adore writing Cinderella stories. From a creative standpoint, I’ll compare her bare foot to a single woman’s bare left ring finger. Her love bond begins with a slipper while a modern woman’s begins with an engagement ring. But although Cinderella and her Prince Charming may have waltzed their way into each other’s lives and hearts, in today’s society life happens at warp speed and sometimes slams couples together much as the people in a mosh pit. Love, or what is professed as love, is here today and gone tomorrow. Instead of the controlled, graceful tempo embraced by the storybook couple, dating today creates whirling dervishes who lose control of their love connection—or who never have a chance at making a connection due to erratic pacing.
Before writing this blog, I pondered some of the many dances in which couples engage from their first meeting to the moment of a marriage proposal. The melody and words of “At Last” played in my mind. What a delicious slow burn on the dance floor that song intimately ignites. I’m a woman who enjoys a varied pace throughout the relationship, but I prefer a slower dance at first. A dance where every breath, every movement, every word is felt and heard and savored. Save the fastest dances for those dervishes as I believe love belongs in a ballroom as opposed to on a break-dancing mat. I’ve always said I’m a romantic at heart but a realist in practice. True love definitely happens but it is hard won, especially if you’re tapping so fast your feet become numb. Ever try putting a shoe on a foot that has “fallen asleep”? Slow and steady, with moments of spontaneity, are what make a better love connection, in my opinion.
In my historical erotic romance novel, TORMENTED, Eve and Charles engage in many dances together in their quest for healing—both emotional and physical—and love.
A Boston socialite’s hope is blind but given sight when a handsome practitioner accepts her challenging medical case.
While shipboard in 1888, Eve Morneau is the victim of a venomous beetle’s bite. Her healing and sexual awakening are placed in the hands of a New Orleans physician, Charles Galletiére. Charles not only shuns society but also the treatment regimens practiced by his peers. Eve is pitted against more than one foe as she struggles with her attraction to Charles and wonders whether or not her cure and a romantic commitment from him are possible.
What about you, readers? Do you enjoy and prefer sexual tension and romantic build-up in the fiction you read and the relationship you cherish? Or is a whirlwind romance more of what you find exciting?
Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
Shawna Moore
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Ellora's Cave
TORMENTED (Recommended Read) -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace
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