A Call for Change in RWA

I am providing you the most current information available regarding RWAChange. I am a member in good standing of RWA and support this call for change.

Again, for more direct information on this group visit: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/RWAchange/

To receive updates on Twitter, follow: http://twitter.com/rwachange

Watch for hashtag #rwachange

All the best,

Adrianna

***Permission to Forward Granted and Encouraged***

I’m a member of the movement within RWA looking to bring change in regard to digital publishing. There are some conflicting thoughts currently being passed around considering what is being supported and what is hoped to change. A Mission Statement has been written and it has been pasted in below. It clearly states what the movement is about and what it is looking to accomplish.

--Romance Writers for Change Mission Statement--

Romance Writers for Change was formed to help educate and create awareness about digital publishing for all RWA members. We fully support and believe in the RWA organization, and hope to partner with it in a positive, constructive way. To that end, Romance Writers for Change members support the following statements:

--RWA members should be offered educational opportunities regarding all aspects of digital publishing and rights exploration/protection.

--The creation of a new Digital Liaison seat on the RWA Board of Directors is in the best interest of all RWA members.

--RWA’s Publisher Standards should incorporate publisher criteria that recognize digital and small press publishing as legitimate and valid models.

--RWA’s Published Author standards should be revised according to a set of criteria that recognizes the specific digital publishing business model.

--All romance publications published by a royalty-paying, non-vanity/non-subsidy publisher should be eligible for the RITA, provided the submission meets minimum industry-standardized format requirements. Format requirements should be based on neutral criteria that endorse readability and ease of judging, and should not be based on the method of production or distribution.

(--End Mission Statement--)

Though Romance Writers for Change is 600+ members strong, Romance Writers for Change can’t do this alone. If you support the push for change, if you wish to see the above changes implemented, your proxy for the AGM at Nationals ’09 is needed. If you’re not attending nationals, or if you’re attending, but are not going to the AGM, send in your proxy so your voice can be heard.

What is a proxy? A proxy will allow you to appoint another member of good standing who will be attending the AGM to vote in your place. It is crucial to achieve as many proxies as possible to be heard at the AGM. Instructions for filling out your proxy and sending it in (hard copy or electronically) can be found here: http://www.courtneymilan.com/proxies.php

Early Morning People Catch the View

Wolf1
Originally uploaded by adriannadane

Well, there are definitely times when it pays to be a morning person. Although I was trying to be a bit of a sluggard this a.m. I have to say, this was a pretty big guy and breathtaking to observe. And I guess I was thankful that most mornings at this time, I'm out in the back field walking my dog. And she's not big...at all.

I wasn't certainly, exactly if this was maybe a coyote or a wolf. I'm not good at identifying them. Hubby thought a fox at first, but way to large for a fox. He was big and confused.

The odd thing is, hubby is not a morning person, but he was up because he had a 7 a.m. conference call this morning.

This is the first time we ever seen wildlife such as this in our rural backyard.

Now I guess I could use a cup of coffee. I'm still not quite awake.

June 2009 Newsletter/w new contest - Now Available Online

The last few months I haven't been able to get out a newsletter as I would like. But I have spent the weeks upon my return from the RT Convention revamping my schedule and routines. This month, I hope I'm starting out right.

To enter the contest, subscribe to the newsletter at my Torrid Tidbits Newsletter Yahoogroup, and read details in the newsletter. Find the newsletter online at: http://www.adriannadane.com/newsletter-archive/torridtidbits-jun2009.html

The Story That Burned to Be Written

Sometimes a story sits in your heart, a scene, a moment, an experience--blazes out and says "write this story!" That's what happened with my story, Jebediah's Promise. Jebediah's Promise is rooted in Army life and the sacrifices of a wife for the husband she loves and the determination of a husband to return to the wife he can't live without.

In 2003, my son-in-law was deployed overseas and my daughter was pregnant. One of my sons was also deployed overseas during that time, just winding down his year overseas. First my son shipped out. In March, as I packed and prepared to move to another state, my attention was glued to the television screen. I went three weeks without communication at a very trying time. It was only after the move that I received a call from my son to inform me that he was safe. The relief was immense. He couldn't say much but to hear his voice was the best sound in the world.

And then my son-in-law was deployed. My daughter was near term and so I flew to Ft. Bragg to be with her for the birth of my granddaughter. My sister, who lives in New York, put together a long-distance baby shower, gathering gifts from friends and relatives around the country. Everything packed into their SUV and the family drove down to North Carolina, surprising my daughter.

My other son flew in for a week's vacation. Now, how many babies do you know that are born on their due date? Would he be here for the arrival of his new niece? Well, you know how that goes. Except in this case the stars were aligned correctly, I guess.

Surprisingly, or maybe not so, knowing my granddaughter, but she was born right on her due date. Just seven days from my own birthday. What a birthday present! My son played chauffeur, and I was there for the birth of my granddaughter. It turned out to be a C-section delivery--my granddaughter apparently having second thoughts about whether she was quite ready to leave her mother's womb, but alas the Navy doctor thought otherwise. A week later, my son who was deployed, returned to the U.S. and he joined us as well. He was stationed in Georgia at the time.

Once my stay was over, my mother-in-law flew in for three weeks to stay with my daughter. Family and friends are so important at times like this.

I spent time prior to the birth with my daughter, doing errands, meeting her friends, attending one of the family update meetings, learning about the phone trees established for military families to communicate information, going to the Post Office in sweltering heat, standing in lines because the packages to her husband were prepared and sent often. The strength necessary to continue day-to-day, waiting for that phone call, watching for that communication that keeps one going each and every day, maybe a moment online. These are images and experiences and emotions that are indelibly branded into memory.

I didn't actually start to write Jebediah's Promise until about a year later, but the idea refused to fade.

This is where the glimmer of a story began to form in my mind. This was a story I had to write. It is dedicated to my daughter, her husband, and my son, as well as to all those family who sacrifice for our safety. To my father who served in the Korean Conflict, my uncle who served in World War II, my other uncle who served in the Vietnam War, to my husband's family who have served, as well as all those who have come before and those will continue to serve.

It is a story of love, commitment, and sacrifice, first and foremost, sensual and erotic in its telling.

I thought today might be an appropriate day on which to share an excerpt once more.



Jebediah’s Promise by Adrianna Dane
Genre: Erotic Contemporary Romance
ISBN: 1-59279-473-4 (electronic)
Publisher: Amber Quill Press/Amber Heat

Also available in the Tapestry of Desire Paperback (a collection of erotic romance) available at Amazon.com.

Purchase Link: http://www.amberquill.com/AmberHeat/JebediahsPromise.html

Author Website: www.adriannadane.com



SYNOPSIS:

Captain Jebediah Holliday is a soldier who serves his country with pride and holds the heart of his wife Trudy, keeping him strong. Dedication to duty requires strength and commitment in separation for both Jeb and Trudy. Jeb’s pledge to do his duty and return to Trudy safely is jeopardized when he is taken hostage on a routine mission. Trudy has faith that Jeb will return home to her, keeping his promise. A hero’s face and courage comes in many guises.

EXCERPT:

"Hey soldier, how about buying a girl a drink?"

Jeb paused in the act of raising the glass to his lips and smiled to himself. He set the beer back on the bar and swiveled around on the stool, knowing exactly whom that sultry, sexy voice belonged to.

Schooling his expression so as not to reveal his anticipation, he surveyed the compact little strawberry blonde posed next to his stool. Mm-mm, damn fine looking woman. With cherry-lush lips curved into a seductive half smile, a slender golden brow arched upward, and the taunt-the-devil flash in her eyes, she presented the kill-me wallop of some of his grandpap’s finest homebrew. The now familiar burn flashed bright, tracking a path through his insides, heart to groin.

Drawing out the sizzle, he took his time in answering as he measured her with his eyes, drinking in the sensual image she presented. It was a vision he’d never grow tired of seeing. The loud country music blasting on the speakers faded away, his total concentration centered on the hot little package standing in front of him. He always had been a man who liked to take his time unwrapping presents slow and easy.

"Well, evenin’, good lookin’. What brings you into a place like this?" His body throbbed in response to the picture she presented in the tight black jeans hugging her rounded hips, and his gaze appreciated the full firm breasts his hands itched to hold.

The jade shirt she wore matched the color of her eyes, reminding him of springtime back home in the mountains of Tennessee. Lip smackin’ good as his grandpap would say.

Good thing he’d learned some gentlemanly manners over the years, or he’d be giving her the pinch test on that nice tight ass of hers, and probably warrant a slap in return.

She knew what he was thinking. He could tell by the twinkle of mischief in her eyes she knew exactly what was in his mind. And that pouty mouth dared him to try it. She stepped closer, reached out, and placed her palms against the tops of his black jean-clad thighs.

"Mmmm, nice. That’s what I like—a man with a fine pair of rock-hard legs." Her words curled around him like smoke from a campfire reaching for the sky, and she sure as hell was stoking a fire that was ready to break out into a pure red-hot blaze set to ravage his skin. She pressed her fingers against the dense fabric covering his thighs just enough, and he felt his cock respond. Oh, she had a nice grip—firm, yet gentle. Her long fingers released, tightened, repeated the action as she shifted closer to the throbbing dick waiting to be loosed.

"Mighty familiar there, don’t you think, ma’am?" He reached out and clasped her forearms before she got any farther, pulling her between the rock-hard thighs she seemed so fond of. She fit close and perfect against his aching crotch. "Damn that feels good. Too good for sitting in the middle of a goddamned bar. One drink and we’re out of here, Tru."

Her grin widened and he knew he was in for trouble. She lifted a leg and rested her boot-shod foot against the rung of the barstool. His eyes widened and he sucked air as he felt her knee graze against that sensitive stiff tool confined behind the zippered front of his pants. Slowly she rubbed in a circle. The paddle fans stirring the air from above did little to cool his mounting temperature.

"Miss me today?" she murmured, adding a mere hint more pressure.



Reviews

5 Angels!! Adrianna Dane accurately captures the essence of the military life and does so with skill. The sexual encounters are satisfying and show the connection between Trudy and Jeb. ... Adrianna Dane creates multifaceted, in depth characters the reader can identify with... --Tracey, Fallen Angel Reviews

5 Hearts!! Adrianna Dane creates a wonderful story of two people meeting for the very first time and it is love at first sight. I was deeply moved by reading this book and I found myself urging Trudy on as she struggled with day to day routines on an Army base and I cried with her as the Army Chaplain knocked on her door. The book is very realistic and a definite keeper! --Linda B., The Romance Studio



Read another excerpt: http://www.adriannadane.com/jebediahspromise.html

Happy Memorial Day.

Adrianna

Man Power - Now Available at Amazon.com

Purchase Link: http://www.amazon.com/Man-Power-Adrianna-Dane/dp/1602728739/ref=pd_rhf_p_t_1

The Reviews...

For Captivity--

Recommended Read and 5 Angels!! Captivity by Adrianna Dane is yet another demonstration of the author's ability to bring a thought provoking and entertaining story for our reading pleasure. ... By the end of the book, both men had me viewing them through a different outlook... --NeNe, Fallen Angel Reviews

For Opposing Forces--

"...Something quite different, Opposing Forces is a special kind of love story. ... Opposing Forces has an unusual premise for a plot but somehow manages to stay away from turning into a comic book and showcases a poignant love between two men badly scarred inside and out... --Lisa, JoyfullyReviewed.com

For Hot Male --

"Hot Male doesn't just bring us one fantastic man, but three delicious morsels. ... Adrianna Dane's characters each has his own frailty, and will need the love and devotion of the other two to move forward. The bond shared by these three men is strong enough to heal all wounds... If you enjoy star travel combined with D/s and light BDSM, then pick up a copy of Hot Male..." -- Scandalous Minx, Literary Nymphs Reviews

A little about the stories in Man Power:

Three erotic worlds fused together to unite the fierce passion and lusty friction of the ultimate in dynamic man power. Love and domination, frailty and fate, alien passion and cyber sex. All male, all desirable. All looking for love.

Previously available only in electronic format, these three stories of gay erotic romance have now been combined for a paperback edition! Included are the tales...

# Captivity
A winged man known simply as "the wild thing" has been free to roam the jungles outside Bendar City until he's betrayed, captured, and sold to a powerful lord who values the stunning birdman's unique beauty. Lord Adolpho Serratin of the Kalamadur Oasis maintains a collection of unusual discoveries, many one-of-a-kind, and "the wild thing" soon becomes the most beloved of Serratin's possessions...in more ways than one. He is given the name Orion Birdwalker, tamed, and trained to serve his new master in all ways, including those duties involving intimate service. But when Orion is presented with an unexpected chance for escape, it becomes the hardest decision he will ever make, since he knows he can't have both his freedom and Lord Serratin, the master he has come to love. Will he choose to flee, or remain a captive to his own passions?

# Opposing Forces
Having been passionate lovers before a laboratory explosion changed their lives, Paz Jones and Nikki Lozakis finally meet again under very different circumstances. Both men are changed, one now known to the world as Silverhawk, who believes in justice and uses his new powers to help the world, and the other a mutant going by the name of Steele, a rogue with superhuman abilities, intent on destroying the mad scientist who made him what he is. Can two men with scarred souls and the superior potential to guard humanity save themselves and re-ignite the love they once shared even though they are no longer the men they once were? And can they come to terms with what they have become, and what they have lost?

# Hot Male
Leo Southworth is into a very hot male on the new .man network. Suffering from injuries that cause him constant pain, Leo has shied away from physical relationships, and talking with Sirras online is what keeps him going. It isn't only about the cyber sex—it's because Sirras can take him places he's never been before. But Sirras, consorting with a human online, is breaking every law known to Avvarian "travvellers." Yet there’s something about Leo that Sirras can’t resist. As if that isn't bad enough, who should appear in Sirras's life at the worst possible moment? Raddlack, the mage-lord with whom Sirras had shared a night of sizzling passion. Sirras and Leo...two lonely men who aren't looking for love, who connect online, thinking it would be enough to satisfy their need for companionship after taking some hard turns in their lives. But love is what happens when three hot males physically come together, and it will blow apart all their worlds and ignite something brighter, hotter, and more lasting than any of them could have ever imagined...

Read excerpts at my website.

An Obsession with Genres and Subgenres

This week the project was not as expected. There are some weeks when I tend to delve into craft before moving on to the next story. This week I was reading about structures and conflicts and scenes and stuff like that. Often, I make notes as I read.

So in doing this craft reading this week I got to a section about genres and subgenres with a listing. I was reading through the list and I was thinking this might be a good time to make up a decent genre reference list. I think it's important before blending genres to know what the foundations are that you're working with. Sometimes it helps in merging and providing new ideas for mixing and matching plots and characters and themes.

So I begin this little project, starting with the list in the book. Well, I wasn't satisfied. I didn't like some of the descriptions, I thought some of the subgenres were actually theme types rather than actual genres and so my short project turned into something much more as I began researching genres and subgenres.

Several days later, I have now completed the initial project. I'm still looking at it and thinking I need to do more, but I already sat here through lunch, and about to do so through dinner. So, my list is now thirteen pages.

I thought it might be nice to share it and you can now find it on my website at: http://www.adriannadane.com/genresandsubgenres.html. You can also download it from that page as a pdf file if you scroll to the bottom.

Now, I really need to get some dinner. I hope I can now stop obsessing over this list at least for a little while.

Probably not.

Adrianna

A Response from Amazon and some resolution

I emailed Amazon this morning about this widespread problem and my concerns. Tonight I received the following response:

Hello,

This is an embarrassing and ham-fisted cataloging error for a company that prides itself on offering complete selection.

It has been misreported that the issue was limited to Gay & Lesbian themed titles - in fact, it impacted 57,310 books in a number of broad categories such as Health, Mind & Body, Reproductive & Sexual Medicine, and Erotica. This problem impacted books not just in the United States but globally. It affected not just sales rank but also had the effect of removing the books from Amazon's main product search.

Many books have now been fixed and we're in the process of fixing the remainder as quickly as possible, and we intend to implement new measures to make this kind of accident less likely to occur in the future.

Further, I'm sorry to hear that you had an unsatisfactory experience when you called us previously.

I do apologize for any misunderstanding that may have occurred and I have passed your feedback along to the appropriate people in our company.

Thanks for contacting us. We hope to see you again soon.

On its face the email reads like a form letter sent to many others, but I did note in the closing paragraphs several things were addressed on a personal level. At least it gave me the feeling that the person answering did read my email. It was signed, but I don't see the necessity of posting the name of the person who signed the email.

I have noted that front-page search, as well as ranking, have been restored for my books.

Would resolution have taken place as quickly without community support and outcry? Probably not. But Amazon has responded, and done so quickly.

Hopefully this will not occur again, but it always pays to watch closely and to speak out.

#amazonfail

I feel there's been quite a bit posted in the last few days regarding this debacle and doubt I need say more on the subject. GLBT has been hit hard by Amazon, but also hetero erotic romance has been hit as well. Two of my six paperbacks have been deranked.

Let's take my erotic romance collection, Esmerelda's Lovers. I checked the metatags for this story. The only tag that matches the other of my books that was unranked is: Adult, Fiction. It is the only tag NOT listed for my other four titles that are still ranked.





















Click on pic for larger view.

Now, when you search for "Esmerelda's Lovers," you get this:










And when you search for Esmerelda's Lovers by Adrianna Dane, you get this:










Click on pic for larger view.

Thongs? You'll sell a pair of thongs, but not my romance?

In order to find this book, you would need to go to the drop-down menu, click on books, specifically, and search for this book by title and/or author name. In other words, this book is now excluded from general searches. And no longer has a rank. And I just did this search a couple of minutes ago.




















Click on pic for larger view.

And for Carnal Carnivale. Meta-tags are: Adrianna Dane; Carnal Carnivale; Amber Quill Press, LLC; Erotica; Erotica, Fiction; Romance; Adult, Fiction; Short Stories (Single Author, Romance), General.

Here's what you get when you search for Carnal Carnivale:











I find this unacceptable. Shame on you, Amazon. Shame.

The Human Condition and Creating Character

As a writer, I create stories with both male and female perspective. Of course, fiction does tend to be larger than life. Part of creating realistic male POV in fiction, especially when you're female, is listening closely to the men in your life. Watching and trying to understand. Talking to them. Always observing.

As a female writer, it can be a bit easier to hone in on a female response. Writing from a male perspective can be rather trickier. One must dig deeper.

But the bottom line is emotion. All of us, male or female, respond with feelings in some way. Sometimes it might be simply an internal reaction, sometimes both internal and external. And sometimes life situations direct our outer responses and we hide behind an image of expectation.

I am forever fascinated by the human condition in all its myriad facets. Talking to people is important, but even in that sometimes we are presented with a facade, so in delving deeper into the psyche, I read a wide variety of books, both fiction and nonfiction. It's always interesting to read other authors' works and get a glimpse into their perceptions. I do not pull from other fiction when I'm creating character and personality.

I write from a sense of person and not place. Although place does have an impact upon person. And sometimes I personify place or thing.

What are some of the nonfiction books I use to delve into psyche? Here's a list of recent reads:

"The Heroine's Journey" by Maureen Murdock
"Owning Your Own Shadow: Understanding the Dark Side of the Psyche" by Robert A. Johnson
"She: Understanding Feminine Psychology" by Robert A. Johnson
"He: Understanding Masculine Psychology" by Robert A. Johnson
"The Interpretation of Fairy Tales" by Marie-Louise von Franz
"Shadow and Evil in Fairy Tales" by Marie-Louise von Franz
"Psychology for Screenwriters: Building Conflict in Your Script" by William Indick, Ph.D.
"King, Warrior, Magician, Lover: Rediscovering the Archetypes of the Mature Masculine" by Robert Moore and Douglas Gillette
"Meditations on Violence: A Comparison of Martial Arts Training & Real World Violence" by Sgt. Rory Miller

I do, of course, also have other lists of references for writing various aspects of erotic romance, that do not include "craft" books, per se--but that discussion is for another day.

So that's the short list in researching the human condition. These are among the books on my keeper shelf and I draw on them as I develop characters, in hopes that I create people and personality and not just stereotypes.

I highlight and mark passages that particularly resonate for me and instill thought.

"Creativity sometimes needs the protection of darkness, of being ignored." - The Interpretation of Fairy Tales.

Which is why I call my office "the dungeon." It is introspection and listening to the characters that drives my fingers across the keyboard. I write best when I am alone, in silence in order to hear what is revealed.

This phrase reminds me to fight through the block and put the first word on paper.

"There are people who have the task of writing on a theme but say it is dull and does not appeal to them, but after investing some libido in it they discover an inner flow of creativity. Many lazy people wait for inspiration until they are eighty and none comes; however, there are situations where one cannot wait, one has to make the first move and invest one's own vital strength in the task before it reveals its meaning." --Shadow and Evil in Fairy Tales

Oh, yes, I like this one. This moment, when a character reveals some deep facet of him or herself is one of the most exciting moments in writing.


In my most recent release, "Lonely Hearts" this moment occurred for my character, Jim. Jim lives with hidden guilt and a skewed sense of deep responsibility which is ruining his life. There were several instances with Jim of revelations from his past.

Each veil lifted to reveal more and more of why Jim came to be the man he is. Moments and decisions in his life that profoundly affect how he relates to other people. How he trusts...or doesn't trust.

I have to admit there are times when I worry about following those "revelations." Many times they are dark and very extraordinary.

Such as in Caution: Wet Paint, when a particular facet of Clara's personality was revealed.

In a menage romance, such as Caution: Wet Paint for me and for my characters there must be a special symmetry that draws these three characters together. And it is through revealing the inner workings of the heart and soul that binds characters in a strong enough way to make the relationship individualized and believable.

My heart always beats faster when I translate what a character is finally comfortable enough to reveal to me. But in this instance, as usually is the case, this marks the difference between one-dimensional stereotype, and that of honesty in a character's development and personality.

With Caleb, in Lonely Hearts, I drew from the male Lover archetype. Caleb is a sensitive soul who hides behind flamboyance and creates perfect moments for everyone else. He loves life, but is missing that vital part--a man to share his life with. His personality is rooted in the Lover.

"The Lover is the archetype of play and of "display," of healthy embodiment, of being in the world of sensuous pleasure and in one's own body without shame --King, Warrior, Magician, Lover

Shame and guilt are exactly what stops Jim from achieving his heart's desire and living a full life.

Lonely Hearts is about weddings, about beginnings, about realization. It's about secrets and guilt and most of all it's about finding love.

"The man under the influence of the Lover wants to touch and be touched. He wants to touch everything physically and emotionally, and he wants to be touched by everything. He recognizes no boundaries. He wants to live out the connectedness he feels with the world inside, in the context of his powerful feelings, and outside, in the context of his relationships with other people. Ultimately, he wants to experience the world of sensual experience in its totality." --King, Warrior, Magician, Lover

This is Caleb. Can he bring Jim into his world? Can Jim learn to experience love in all its many facets? Is he the Lover Caleb has been searching for?

Exploring the human condition in fiction is an exciting adventure and an expression of hope and the endless and boundless possibilities for find that person who makes your life even more perfect.

Happy February--the month we celebrate love...

Adrianna

Sully's Heart in Kindle (excerpt and reviews)

Now available in Kindle format at Amazon.com.

Title: Sully’s Heart
Author: Adrianna Dane
Collection: You Make Me Live AmberPax
Purchase Link: http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/SullysHeart.html
Author URL: http://www.adriannadane.com
Publisher: Amber Quill Press/Amber Allure
ISBN: 978-1-60272-154-8
Publisher URL: http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure
Cover Art by Trace Edward Zaber

SYNOPSIS:

Sexy rock star Luke Cantrell has everything going for him. He parties hard and has no shortage of bed partners. Except he can’t have the one thing he truly wants. The bad boy of Texas and the golden-haired son of an affluent rancher. Friends for life, but Luke always yarned for more than friendship. With the truth destroy their relationship or will it give them both something they passionately desire but were afraid to reveal? Will Sully understand if Luke finally tells him the truth? Or will Luke lose his friendship forever? It’s a gamble he finally has to take.

EXCERPT:

“Sully Vance. It’s been a long time.”

Sully shoved the hat back on his forehead and then shifted to dismount, the sound of creaking leather loud to Luke’s ears at just that moment. The branches of the tree shifted and creaked and the hiss of a breeze shuddered across his bare skin.

He was standing here naked in front of the one man he wanted more than any other. And the one he couldn’t have, not if he wanted to keep his friendship.

Luke drank in the vision of Sully as he stepped down from his horse. The Western cut jeans cupped his tight ass perfectly. Long, muscled legs that carried him closer to Luke, wonderfully broad shoulders, and a chest that had obviously filled out nicely since the last time they’d been together.

He pushed off his hat and strode toward Luke. His thick, blond hair was just as Luke had remembered it, streaked by the sun, like a field of shimmering wheat, darkened at the moment with sweat. And his eyes, those deep blue eyes that seemed to take in everything, study it, and understand it. Calm, strong, and alert all at the same time.

He stopped right in front of Luke and looked at him intently. Luke saw things in those eyes, but it couldn’t be what he thought. It wasn’t possible.

His fingers curled into fists of impotence. He wanted to reach out to hug him close, but he didn’t dare. It would ruin the moment.

Ruin everything.

They stared at each other for a long time, almost a gap of years spanned between them as they studied and tried to learn what the time apart had done to each of them.

“Why’d you come back?” Sully wanted to know.

For you, Luke wanted to answer. Instead he shrugged. “Unfinished business, I guess.”

Sully kept staring at him intently and Luke could feel his cock beginning to tighten in response to that intensity. He was going to shame himself, he just knew it. He should just get dressed and hightail it out of there fast before something happened that shouldn’t.

“How’s your old man? I haven’t seen much of him lately, but I got the feeling he’s turned harder over the years. I’ve asked him about you when I’ve seen him in town, but he just grumbles something about you being a druggie and he didn’t talk to you. If you didn’t send the postcards now and then, I’d have worried you were dead in a ditch someplace. But according to the newspapers, you’re doing real fine. I’ve been wanting to come to see one of your concerts, but you know how it gets.”

Luke still couldn’t look away. He had to wonder what else his father had said to Sully.

He’s a fancy faggot, Vance, not someone you should be associating with. Luke wouldn’t put it past his father saying just that sort of thing.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been wanting to come back for a visit, but, well, there just didn’t seem to be time.”

Another long silence dropped between them. Luke’s gaze dropped to Sully lips. There were so many times when he’d wanted to taste them. He felt his heart hammering against his chest. His nipples tightened as cool air wafted over them.

“I’ve missed you, Luke,” Sully said softly as he stepped closer. “I’ve missed you a lot.”

Luke held his breath. What was he trying to say? He licked his lips, nervous as hell that he was going to say the wrong thing, make a misstep.

“I-I’ve missed you, too. More than you know.” Something changed in Sully’s eyes.

And then suddenly he swooped forward, taking Luke by surprise, and planted a searing kiss on Luke’s lips. Nothing could have shocked him more. He felt Sully’s tongue press between the seam of his lips and plunge deep into his mouth. Sully wrapped his arms around Luke and tugged him close.

Luke was too shocked to respond right away, but then he lifted his arms and wrapped them around the broad shoulders of this gorgeous man and pressed himself tightly into his embrace.

REVIEWS:

"... Sully's Heart is a heart-stopping tale of two men who have the same problem. ... Sully's Heart will warm your heart with their love and sizzle your nerve endings with the heat they have together when they hit the sheets. I highly recommend this entrancing story..." --Raine, JoyfullyReviewed.com

4.5 Ribbons!! Adrianna Dane has quickly become one of my favoriate authors because of her heartfelt storylines and memorable characters... In SULLY'S HEART readers are treated to an inside look at what drives Luke to behave in such a self-destructive manner and what it takes to save him. ... I really enjoyed the intensity of this storyline and quickly read through the whole book just because I had to know how things turn out between Luke and Sully... --Chrissy Dionne, Romance Junkies Reviews

Tone of Story and Word Choice

When you write a story, do you take into consideration the genre you are writing?

For example, what words do you use to describe...anything...in a horror story?

What about a mystery?

In horror, do you simply use that tone in the specific scene where a ghost appears? Where a monster makes its appearance and maybe kills a victim? Where does build up begin?

When do you start to seduce your reader into the ambiance of a horror or a mystery or a romance?

The same is true for the eroticism of a story, wouldn't you say? Word choices throughout the story give it the texture and tone for the genre, not just the number of A-into-B sex scenes, or a murder scene, or the swashbuckling warrior scene in a fantasy. It is the whole ambiance.

Would you disagree with that?

When I describe a mountain (such as in Breathless Peaks), a pair of gloves (Skin Tight), a painting (Caution: Wet Paint), in an erotic romance, that item is imbued with sensuality. That is part of the plot. In a mystery, in a horror novel, what are your word choices for bringing a reader into the emotion of that story from the very first page?

From Breathless Peaks:

They both called to her--both wanted her total attention. The feeling was like being drawn to two possessive lovers--neither one willing to let her go. Neither one giving an inch. No matter how far she ran or how deep she tried to hide, they wouldn't let her be. Not really. She'd always felt their presence.

There were times when she thought she'd won, but those times were fleeting. Like a sharpened nail of silvery metal, she was drawn by a powerful magnetism she fought against daily. She was weary of the fight. She wanted to simply let go and go back. To bend to their will, to give them what they wanted. What she needed.

If she went, would she lose her sense of self? Would they press her between them and suffocate the life from her?

Every time she thought about them, her heart beat faster, raced like a ticking bomb, ready to explode. The heat of remembered contact coursed through her like an avalanche that she couldn't fight and she was swallowed whole, buried alive. Not any more. Not now.

She loved them both. More than she should. Both left her breathless, always wanting more. Needing it, and nothing could change that.

From Skin Tight:

The fit was tight, so very tight. Just the way she loved it. Slow and easy. Curving and sheathing until there was no space left to breathe. She sighed as she stroked her fingertips across the glove's supple leather, tracing the outline of each of her enclosed digits one at a time. She inhaled the item's earthy aroma, allowing it to wend its way through her.

Karli loved the scent of finely tooled gloves. And these, oh these, were perfect. They were so tight a fit, she could see the outline of her nails through the stretched fabric. Yet the leather was so pliant there was no problem at all fisting her hand, and her knuckles peaked with shiny definition.

"They look gorgeous on you, Ms. Logan. Almost like a second skin." The saleswoman smiled. This expensive pair would undoubtedly mean a very good sales percentage for the woman behind the counter. "I knew they would," she gushed. "That's why I called you right away. I hoped you'd get the message. I said it was important."

With difficulty, Karli looked away from her gloved hand to smile at the girl. "The service did get the message to me. And I appreciate the call, Wendy. You take very good care of me." Of course, the call had been vetted through several different people before it ended up in Karli's hands, but at least it had reached her. In a gesture of appreciation, Karli's gloved hand pressed the back of Wendy's bare one. She could feel the warmth of the woman's skin even through the boundary of the elegant glove.

No man's cock had ever fit her pussy as tightly as her fingers fit into these gloves. The press and scent almost had her orgasming on the spot. She bit her lip, then soothed the wound with her tongue.

"You have such elegant hands, Ms. Logan. This style looks just wonderful on you." She looked around the small shop, then back at Karli. "Actually," she said in a confidential tone, "I set them aside until you could come in to try them for yourself."

Karli flexed her hand again, enjoying the feel of confinement, the stroke and give of the leather. She wanted to touch herself so badly, to baptize them with her juices. To feel the leather against the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

Caution: Wet Paint:

"It's a very...riveting piece, isn't it? Do you know the artist?"

Clara couldn't take her eyes off the work of art. She felt the heat of a summer sun on her naked body. Sable brushes skimming across her skin, between the lips of her pussy. She squeezed her legs tightly together, trying to deny the erotic sensations that quaked through her.

"Clara, did you hear me?"

"Yes, Maggie, I heard you. It wasn't created by one artist--it was two. You know one of them."

Spread your legs, Clara. Show us your desire. Clara shivered as the ghostly demand echoed inside her head.

"I do? Who is it?"

She felt fingertips stroke gently across her inner thighs. The warmth of a bonfire against her back. The rough texture of a flannel blanket beneath her.

"Arturo."

Maggie turned to look at Clara, her mouth agape.

"I didn't know he ever did work like this. It doesn't look like any of the stuff you have on display at the gallery. Who was the other artist?"

"Samir Zahi." Prince Samir Zahi to be correct. Samir, whose mouth had tasted her, lips hot and demanding on her breasts. Her nipples burned for him as she studied the painting, yearning to feel his mouth on her flesh once again.

And in Body Parts foreshadowing a sense of darkness and mystery:

She studied the exterior of the powerful stone structure. It was built to last the ages and much too substantial to simply be called a house. Right out of a gothic novel, it was one of the most opulent pieces of architecture Korrie have ever seen.

Within seconds, the sun shifted behind a dark cloud and cool darkness settled over the property, shadows grabbing at the structure. And at her. She again looked up to study the architecture and this time her gaze settled on the towers. Just below the spires in the left column she noticed the blackened stone and boarded-up brace of windows. From the early photos, they had once held handcrafted stained glass.

It was a terrible tragedy when the Ransoms perished in a devastating fire that destroyed a great deal of the laboratory on the top floor of the mansion. It was reportedly one of their experiments that had gone horribly wrong. Most of their research papers were destroyed as well. At least that’s the rumor.

That’s what it said in the file. She should know because she was the one who’d conducted the interview with the retired newspaper reporter. One of the many reasons she wanted to come here ﷓﷓ to discover the truth. To walk in their shoes, so to speak. Now was her chance.

The lack of sun set a pall over the house, making it look like a fixture out of one of those old horror movies. A shiver spread up her spine, like tiny fingers gripping and tightening around her flesh. What experiment had the Ransoms been working on when they perished?

Does explicitness equal erotic in every scene?

Does erotic equal a full sex scene on every page?

Does revulsion equal horror in every paragraph?

Does violence equal mystery in every act?

Or is it the word choices we use as wordsmiths, throughout the story, that draws the emotion and keep the reader enthralled?

Can you segment plot from atmosphere, or intimacy from relationship, be it mystery, horror, scifi, fantasy, or erotic? If you do, is that story still firmly planted within a specific genre?

Just asking...

Adrianna
www.adriannadane.com

The Writing Mind

fountain pen
Originally uploaded by [phil h]

Currently reading "Bullies, Bastards & Bitches: How to Write The Bad Guys of Fiction" by Jessica Page Morrell (ISBN: 978-1-58297-484-2).

This morning I happened to be talking with someone on the phone about how a writer's mind works differently sometimes. After we hung up I turned to reading another chapter from this writing craft book and these few sentences struck me.

"Every writer has his own way "in" to the story. Some plan, some dream, some piece a story together like a puzzle as bits of inspiration slip into consciousness. For most writers, plot and conflict are so entwined with characters that one cannot be known without the other."

I think I tend to start out being the puzzle piecer type of writer. I have a program I keep open called "RoughDraft" and I jot down bits and pieces of characterization and plot as they come to me.

I think we all know that each writer creates differently but sometimes validating our writing habits and the differences in the writer's mind helps to remind us.

I'm using this picture from flickr this morning because I love writing with a fountain pen. A number of years ago I purchased a box of miscellaneous stuff from an auction back in a small town near where I grew up--Richmondville, New York. Some of the contents of the auction belonged to a newspaper publisher. At the bottom of the box, crammed into a crease at the corner, was an old Parker fountain pen. I cleaned it up and I purchase the ink for it (it doesn't take cartridges) and use it often, especially in my journal writing.

There's intimate ritual to working with a fountain pen. Especially an older pen that needs to be filled and cleaned and cared for. A fountain pen holds secrets, shares secrets, tell stories. It's not a throw-away pen; it's a companion through the writing life and deserves respect.

I use Sheaffer Skrip peacock blue ink, special ordered online from Pendemonium.

Adrianna

Happy New Year...

icicle
Originally uploaded by adriannadane

"Happy New Year...for lord sake," she snapped. That made the hundredth time if not more that she had to wish someone a happy new year.

"Happy, happy, happy," she muttered as she turned back to her computer and resumed pounding at the keys.

New Year's Eve, New Year's Day, New Year's Resolutions! She was sick to death of talking about the new year. What's so good about the beginning of another year? She'd just like to know. New taxes, new bills, same old job, no raise. Just what was so great anyway? She'd broken all her resolutions, spent New Year's Eve at home alone, burned the ham on New Year's day--give me a break.

She kept on typing, stopping and starting again as she made mistake after mistake, muttering to herself.

"What am I doing here?" It wasn't the first time she'd asked herself that question. "No one appreciates me. I'm just taken for granted by everyone. Eliie will do this, Ellie will do that--for God's sake doesn't anyone else exist in this office?" Talk about feeling sorry for herself.

"Hey, Ellie," Marvin the mail guy rushed up to her desk. "I'm really sorry. This envelope was for you and it got stuck under a shelf in the mailroom." He handed her the envelope.

As she took it, she muttered thanks, sort of absentmindedly. Who could it be from? She didn't recognize the handwriting. Well, the only way to find out was to open it.

She picked up her letter opened and ran it along the sealed flap of the envelope. It was a card. It said, "Happy New Year from the whole gang." It was signed by everyone on the floor. It also contained a gift certificate for her favorite restaurant. And it said, "Take a break on us--you deserve it!"

Slowly a smile spread across her face and the dark cloud that seemed to be surrounding her, lifted. Well, maybe the new year wouldn't be so bad after all.

January 7, 1991

Winter's Day

evergreengroupingsnow
Originally uploaded by adriannadane

I wrote this poem for my children, who are all now adults, on a very snowy afternoon.

Winter's Day

Snowflakes in the air today,
falling, calling me out to play.

Cold and white and wet and clean,
Shapes are many, all unseen.

Calling to me from the sky,
"Come join us, we'll pile high."

Bundled warm I rush outside,
Towing a sled that I can ride.

Time for snowmen the flakes do say,
Or angels maybe to brighten this day.

Shoveling walks for passersby,
Jumping into those flakes that are piled high.

And when the sun it settles down,
Home is where I'm finally bound.

To sip hot chocolate and warm my toes,
And think of snowmen as this day comes to a close.

January 6, 1991

Her Own Traditions

tallevergreensnow-turquoisestars
Originally uploaded by adriannadane

Christmas normally meant rushing around to do last minute shopping, helping to prepare for Christmas dinner and exhaustion complete at the end.

This year would be different though. Miranda wasn't planning to go home this year. It seemed odd somehow--all those family traditions--not to be celebrated this year. She felt a bit sacraligious somehow when she'd informed her mother she wouldn't be home this year--how could she break tradition?

But looking back, Miranda was glad she had done it. The rushing, all the excitement, all the people. She needed a break. It had been a tough year for Miranda. She'd been sick a lot and her body was telling her to ease off. That was what really led to the big decision not to go home for Christmas.

Tradition--what was it really? But something started at one point for whatever reason and repeated year after year until it becomes a natural habit of things--and difficult. It wasn't that old traditions were bad, but for her, right now, she needed something different. Maybe just a time reassess.

This year she would be starting her own tradition. Quiet time for herself. How strange to think about all these years, that if she broke "tradition" a big pit would open and swallow her up. It didn't happen though. Her mother had understood--sort of. But at any rate here she was now curled up on the sofa, engulfed in a multicolored afghan blanket and Buttons, her calico cat, curled up in her lap fast asleep.

It had been nice attending Mass and being able to savor the full meaning of Christmas, enjoying each moment and able to stop and appreciate the peace and beauty of the night.

Miranda though she would hate staying at home, being by herself, and missing her famiily. But even though she missed the boisterous family cheer, she enjoyed the peace and solitude.

She was older, no longer the child of her parents' traditions, but an adult ready to make her own way. How strange that she finally felt old enough to make these decisions. Had the umbilical cord finally been cut or had it only been weakened? That was yet to be seen. Miranda only knew she would savor this moment for the here and now.

So she took a sip of her hot chocolate and picked up the book she bought just to read on this special night -- Dickens' "A Christmas Carol," and carols softly playing in the background. The small table lamp the only light to illuminate the room. Maybe next year she would go back to the traditions of her parents and her childhood, but for now, this was what was right for her.

January 7, 1992

~~~~~~~***~~~~~~

If Miranda's story had been written today, she'd be reading "A Christmas Carol," on her ebook reader, and connecting with her family by webcam Christmas morning.

An interesting thought as to how the technological changes in just a few years can tweak our family traditions to fit our lifestyle and our personal needs. :-)

With much love and peace,

Adrianna

Thoughts To Music

hollyberries1
Originally uploaded by adriannadane

Christmases long ago were a simpler time.
Pleasures plainer...

Faith of Our Fathers reminds me of Thanksgiving.

I see glitters of silver and gold,
the pomp and circumstance of kingdoms.
A royal walk and processions of many,
a formal affair, powdered hair.
Silks and satins in muted colors and whisperings of luxurious cloth...

Then I roam amongst the middle class,
with warmth of fires, maybe a Charles Dickens classic.
The laughter abounds in the homes filled with warmth.
A skip and a hop, a smile with a twinkle, a flirtatious glance from
behind elegantly painted fans.

A room that could encompass a country with its size,
as the crowded room dances with a measured step,
a curtsy here, a bow there.

And now in the drawing room we sit and listen to a quiet concert
of one.
A melancholy moment, elegant and pure,
as the music captures and enraptures the room.

Away to the manager as a child is born.
More simple and purely rapturous it cannot be.
To the child that waits as the kings attend and the people do
come in processions and lines,
shepherds, kings, and all that do know.
As the angels watch over the manager below,
and here is the child of Mary...

The present emerges with visions of stores and snow-covered streets.
A rock opera of the present--42nd Street--New York--
a commercial production with jazz as its beat.
The dancers I see all aglitter on stage as they move and retreat.
Dashing with presents here and there, back and forth.
Wild is the beat as only the present can bring.

A modernist movement not to be outdone by the Christmas
production next door.
The present's interpretation of a holiday celebration.

And now we move on into a home of joy.
Still the present to be sure--but to a quieter side of of our nature.
A tree stands tall with the twinkling of lights, a fire in the fireplace.
Side by side we watch as the virgin snow falls to blanket the earth.
Children asleep as we enter the quietest and most profoundly peaceful moment of the year.
No other is like it, no other to compare,
To this moment of oneness with past, present, and future
merged.
Christmas Eve--the most holiest of nights.

December, 1996

Frozen

WAWinter6
Originally uploaded by adriannadane

Frozen

Cold that is chilling, biting, killing,
Ice that is clear and crisp and brittle.
Sky not blue but mirrors winter,
No sun to warm the frigid earth.

Mind not thinking, numb and unfeeling.
Spring come soon to melt this frost.
Coldly winter, solid forever,
Ice unmoving, hotly cold.

Touch the ice with fingers of heat.
Away they come, slick, dripping water,
Red from cold, shiny wet.

Prints remain on ice forever,
Tracts made by the fingers of heat.
Spring come soon to melt these wonders,
Terrified thoughts encased in ice.

Sleep we do until the warming.
Not moving, unthinking, captured beneath solid ice.

Frozen.

February, 1994

Winter in Washington

WaWinter2008-3
Originally uploaded by adriannadane

Yes, we have snow this year. I really like snow at Christmas. I was out this morning and I still say, Christmas snow--holiday weather feels different than it does in January and February. It's brisk and pretty and exciting. It sparkles, it's soft and puffy and glimmers with that special sheen of magic.

The sky is silvery and silent. Like it's waiting, as we all are--standing still, hovering, watching and waiting.

Here in Washington, I expect the snow won't last long. I remember New York winters and Montana winters, the snow likes to linger. It's rather mulish like that.

So I hurry out to take the pictures I can before it all disappears. And I thought I'd share.

Adrianna

The Age of Sexy Maturity

I so often hear people say, "I'm working toward retirement, but I'm just marking time. I hate this job." I don't get it. Why do we want to rush our lives? Is it the money? Where's the quality of life in that statement?

I'll admit I worked as a legal secretary in order to help support the family and maintain life insurance for the children. I didn't hate what I did--I liked it. It wasn't my passion like writing is, but it was a good profession and I felt challenged in what I did. You work for attorneys and see if you aren't challenged.

But in my spare time I was writing, learning how to work with stained glass, writing, taking genealogy courses, writing, taking community courses in Italian and Russian, writing... I wasn't waiting for "some day." Maybe because my father had his first stroke at thirty-eight, his second at forty-two, and he died at fifty-two, it gave me a different perspective about time and life. He had been a carpenter, an avid fisherman, a hunter, and he liked painting and going to the horse races in his spare time. He spent his last ten years in a wheel chair.

I guess it's all in perspective and what we hope to achieve in life. What are our dreams and aspirations? And we're all different. I have to say, I've always written--finding scattered moments here and there between job and kids and husband and activities. Often at activities--soccer games, hockey games. No moment in life should be wasted--it's all too precious.

Then there's that thing called "midlife crisis." What is that? He drives a sports car, she maybe learns to play tennis or get a different look. The kids are grown and they now have money for the fun stuff. That's "midlife crisis?" What is there that says crisis? Spare me. Wait till you get there. You're free and you're going to make the most of it. I was once told that a woman my age shouldn't wear long hair. Oh, but it looks okay on you. What? Give me a break. Since when. Whatever. My pleasure, your loss.

I was just reading an article in Out Magazine about Frank Langella. Remember, sexy Dracula? Oh, yum. I digress.

Anyway. He puts it probably better than I can.

I don't understand the notion of retirement. Getting older is the beginning of a whole different delicious pleasure.

Or adventure. Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. The golden years--the years of delicious pleasure. Kind of like before the kids--but aged with splendid maturity. On the road to new adventures. Don't read that "maturity" word the wrong way.


Picture courtesy of Flickr

This all brings to mind the poem I read some years back (and ended up purchasing the book back when I was in my early thirties), by Jenny Joseph. Warning: When I Am Old I Shall Wear Purple. I have always loved that poem.

Warning: When I Am Old I Shall Wear Purple

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
with a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
and satin candles, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired
and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
and run my stick along the public railings
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick the flowers in other people's gardens
and learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at a go
or only bread and pickles for a week
and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
and pay our rent and not swear in the street
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Purchase the book at:



So, I'm practicing now because, goodness, I wouldn't want to shock anyone. My kids already know I'm out there. So, midlife crisis, here I am. We need new definitions for "retirement," "golden years," and "midlife crisis." The purple years, maybe?


Courtesy of Flickr

We're finishing up one year and moving into a new one. Start fresh.

Help me here. What would you call it?

Adrianna

The Messenger Now Available! (Contemporary Gay Erotic Romance)

Just in time for the holidays my latest release is now available from Loose Id.

Title: The Messenger
Author: Adrianna Dane
Publisher: Loose Id
ISBN: 978-1-59632-808-2
Purchase Link: http://www.loose-id.com/detail.aspx?ID=824
Author Website: http://www.adriannadane.com
Genres: Gay Erotic Contemporary Romantic Suspense
Length: Novella


Synopsis:

Dillon Lloyd has had the hots for his attractive neighbor, Vance Keith, for quite some time. He's spent many nights in voyeuristic pleasure while the gorgeous man next door has sex with his current male lover in varied and delicious ways. Even so, Dillon has never entertained the idea of actually asking Vance out on a date. For one thing, Vance is a client of Dillon's delivery business. And business and pleasure should never mix.

All that changes when a package -- a gift that Vance had sent to his most recent lover -- turns up undeliverable. Dillon takes a chance and decides to return the package to Vance himself in hopes that maybe a miracle of the season will happen for him.

When Vance and Dillon meet in person the sparks ignite. And when Vance invites Dillon into his apartment on this icy winter night, though the weather outside is frightful, the heat between them is more than delightful. Their blistering passion sets a torch to the holiday festivities offering a bounty of unexpected gifts.

But things in Vance's past jealously battle for his future happiness and won't stop at murder to win.

EXCERPT:

He nodded toward the window. "I live over there. See that window? That’s my apartment."

"You mean, right across from my place?"

Dillon held his breath as he turned to look at Vance. They stood so close, shoulders brushing. He could swear he felt the man’s intense heat through the barrier of their clothes. Would he understand what Dillon was trying to tell him? Would he realize the curtains on Dillon’s windows were wide open. Just like in his apartment. And that he could see in quite clearly?

And if he did realize, would he throw Dillon out of his apartment without a second thought?

"You knew. You saw us."

Dillon couldn’t detect anger in his voice. There was surprise, maybe curiosity.

"Yes. You’re both very attractive." He swallowed hard. "Very…passionate." He looked straight into Vance’s eyes. "I’ll admit I was envious."

"You aren’t involved in a relationship?"

Vance didn’t move away, didn’t step back. In fact, it seemed to Dillon that in some infinitesimal way they came closer together. And yet, he doubted that either of them had moved an inch. The temperature in the room suddenly jacked up to sweltering.

"No. I’m not. There hasn’t been time. I’ve been too busy building my business. Felice keeps telling me I need a man in my life."

"Felice?"

"My day dispatcher. She’s been with me since we opened our doors. She gets a little familiar sometimes. And pushy."

"Longtime employees do tend to get that family edge, don’t they?"

"Yeah, I guess so. She tells me I need a keeper." Dillon’s attention fastened on Vance’s mouth. So very tempting. He wanted to feel Vance’s lips against his own. To taste him. Would he taste like brandy? Like the hot blaze of the fire in the fireplace?

"You liked watching us." It wasn’t a question. Vance’s eyes seemed to dilate and turn darker, like the sky just after sundown. His voice deepened.

"Yeah, I did."

Slowly, Vance turned to look out the window and Dillon studied his attractive profile. Shadowed jaw this late in the day, hollowed cheeks, patrician nose, deep-set eyes. Not perfect, not airbrushed, but quite striking.

"Did you jerk off?" The question caught Dillon by surprise. Maybe it shouldn’t have, but it did.

"I…" Did he dare tell him the truth? "Yeah, I did." He felt the heat flare into his face.

"I wish I’d known you were there…watching us."

"I’m sorry."

Vance looked at him. Still, no anger, but Dillon did sense lust. "I’m not heart-whole, Dillon. I find you very…desirable tonight, but I haven’t forgotten Jake. I’m not sure I could give you what you’re looking for."

"I don’t know what I’m looking for myself. But I had to come here, you know? I had to meet you…to see…" His voice trailed off. Just one kiss. Just one, just to taste him. It didn’t have to be forever. But the yearning had been building for so very long. He had to quench the need.

Without a second thought he leaned forward, cupped Vance’s head, and pressed his lips to the object of his affection. Vance didn’t pull away and Dillon deepened the kiss. Tasted the brandy and coffee, and warmth and intimacy. A tinge of hesitation, a huge helping of lust.



Read another excerpt: http://www.adriannadane.com/themessenger.html

Adrianna
"Passionate stories with adventurous heart"
www.adriannadane.com
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