Taken by The Siren by @meganslayer #romance #paranormal #eroticromance #siren @changelingpress

 

Taken by the Siren (Taken 3)
A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel by Megan Slayer
$4.99 /Sale Price: $4.24

 

Michael came home to heal his broken heart. He had no idea he'd find the love of his life in a siren....

 

Michael Blessing thought he had everything he ever wanted when he met his wife. Then he found out the truth, and his world was shattered by a car accident. Coming home to Eerie was supposed to be his time to heal his broken heart.

The siren had other ideas.

Lia Darling never forgot the shy, handsome young man she’d known when they were children. Seeing Michael again awakens a need within her she can’t explain or deny, but she’s been hurt before. She doesn’t want another dead end, and when she looks into his eyes, she sees forever.

Maybe this second chance is just what they need to heal, move forward and find love… together.

 

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EXCERPT:

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2023 Megan Slayer

“Home,” Michael Blessing murmured as he drove past the city limit line into Eerie. He hadn’t been back in so long. Seemed like the day he left was the last day he thought about his hometown. Silly, really. Eerie wasn’t a bad place. It was quaint. Like a storybook town. The buildings were whimsical, full of gingerbread and swirls, plus glitter and bright paint. The streets were clean and the sidewalks wide. The flowers blossomed brighter, and the people seemed to welcome everyone back.

There wasn’t a stranger in Eerie -- except humans. They were all strangers, but he wasn’t a human. His Fae father had married a woman who knew witchcraft. They’d been a good pairing, and Michael had the best childhood. Everyone thought his mother was human, but he hadn’t cared. He was loved.

His parents were still alive and still cared about him. He was their son, and they’d always love him, but they had no idea the depths of loneliness he felt. They didn’t understand the grief he dealt with on a daily basis.

The woman he loved was dead. The moment he’d seen Chloe, he knew he wanted her for the rest of his life. She’d be the best partner and eventually would make him a father.

Then she had, but she died.

He hadn’t been able to manage the grief, not even a year and a half later. He needed somewhere to hide. Eerie wasn’t the place to hide. Most everyone in town stood out. Witches, Elves, Faeries, gargoyles, shifters and every other kind of paranormal creature was there.

But he had a cabin in the woods on the other side of town, with a pier on the lake and plenty of space to be quiet, to hide and regroup. No one would bother him. He could write and be alone with no one bugging him, making him come out of himself or pleading with him to be social.

He didn’t have any social in him.

Not today. Not this week. Maybe not ever.

His magic had dried up, too.

Did he care? A little, but not as much as he should. He drove through town, then onto the side road leading to the woods. The beauty of Eerie was that everyone had a space. The lake, the village, the little cottages, the woods… If a paranormal creature wanted a space, there was one. If he wanted to hide at his cabin and write, then practice his magic, then he could.

No one would annoy him.

He pulled into the dirt path that led to his cabin. The second he wound through the trees to his little house, he felt better. Like he belonged.

But that was always the way he felt when he came here. His heart was in the woods, among the trees and peace. Maybe he was always meant to be alone. Chloe had seen the most in him -- more than anyone -- but she was gone, and he had to pick up the pieces.

He pulled into the dirt patch next to the cabin and parked. As the engine cooled, he debated what to do. He needed to put up the carport to protect the Jeep -- not from the falling branches, but the leaves, rain and debris. He supposed he could use his magic to protect the vehicle, too. Probably should do that. It’d be a reason to practice his magic and prevent too much damage to his Jeep.

Despite needing to put the carport together, he left his vehicle and headed into the cabin. The place would need a lot of cleaning up, but he could use those tasks to procrastinate instead of writing.

He carried his bag into the cabin, then set about to put the tarp, PVC and canvas carport up. If nothing else, the carport would hide his vehicle, and maybe if anyone saw the lights on, they’d leave him alone.

He hated being so despondent and crabby, but he’d been hurt and had no idea how to get over his loss.

An hour later, he managed to secure the Jeep in the carport and even cleaned up the living room enough for living. He added a bit of magic to the carport, adding extra strength to the canvas to protect his vehicle. He’d murmured the words and checked to ensure the spell had gone correctly. Sure enough, it had, and he grinned.

At least one thing had gone his way.

He headed back into the house, and his stomach grumbled. He should eat, but there wasn’t anything in the fridge. Hell, the fridge hadn’t even been turned on. He needed to make a run to the store, but also should set up the Internet, too.

He cleaned the dust from the living room, then set about getting the kitchen in order. He removed the sheets around the house to reveal the furniture and, as he worked, he swore he heard music.

A familiar song. Sweet, too.

He paused, and his thoughts turned to a song he remembered from his childhood. A girl he’d known had sung the song, but probably never where she thought anyone could hear her.

He chuckled to himself. He hadn’t thought about that girl or the song in ages. What was her name? She’d been a sweet young woman, with flame-red hair and fiery eyes. She rarely spoke, but she’d filled out quickly and wore revealing clothes. She grabbed attention wherever she went, but no one really got to know her.

He knew her name. He’d lusted after her the entire time they were in school.

Lia.

 

My Favorite Poem by Kaye Spencer #poetry

American poet Theodore Roethke (1908-1963) was born May 25, 1908.

Although he isn’t my favorite poet, he did write my favorite poem, My Papa’s Waltz, which was originally published in ‘Hearst Magazine’ in 1942.

My Papa’s Waltz has been taken apart, turned upside down and inside out, and analyzed under literary and scholarly microscopes to find the deeper meaning—the true meaning (rolling my eyes)—that Roethke intended beneath the surface.

What pleasure do we get from poetry if we rely upon someone else’s opinion and interpretation to tell us what the poem really means to us? Why do we have to read for symbolism in order to have a poem touch our heart, speak to us in a uniquely personal way, or have a special meaning that is ours alone ?

I think literary critics would do well to employ a little less Freud and a little more heart in their literary evaluations.

Poetry is personal. Poetry must be savored, thought about, read and read again, spoken aloud. What shouldn’t happen is poetry analyzed to the point of it being an impersonal list of institutionally scrubbed and disinfected words strung together.

My Papa’s Waltz takes me back to my happy childhood with loving, attentive parents.

For me it is a straight forward, captured-moment-in-time of a playful and loving dance between child and father (or grandfather in my case). I stood on my grandpa’s feet and danced like this many, many times, and my ears did occasionally scrape his belt buckle.

When I read this poem, I still smell his whiskey, beer, cigarette smoke, chewing tobacco, garden dirt, and wood working that make up my olfactory memories of him. He was my maternal grandpa who lived just across the pasture and around the pond from me.

Above Picture: Spring 1958 – Me with Grandpa George on his roof. The back side of his house was built into a dirt bank, so it was easy to crawl up and sit on the roof.

Above Picture: Christmas 1956 – I was almost two years old.

Above Picture: This was my 5^th birthday.

Some interpretations of this poem insist that Roethke was frightened of his father, because of his father’s drinking and violent behavior, which is apparently evident in the poem. I don’t read this into the poem. The lenses in my world-view glasses have a rosy, happy color about this poem.

My grandpa was a carpenter, a gardener, an outdoorsman, a musician, a self-taught scholar, and a teacher of life skills to an attentive granddaughter. He taught me to play the harmonica by ear. He raised pigs and chickens. His hands were often dirty and his knuckles often battered. He was of the blue collar working class.

We sometimes danced around the kitchen and knocked things off shelves, but we had a darn good time. By today’s standards, I suppose he was an alcoholic, but he did a day’s work every day, because there was work to be done. He was an awful housekeeper (widower), but I didn’t realize that or care. When I was 12, he finally got indoor plumbing. He cooked on an old fashioned wood stove that also heated his house. He was born in 1898.

My Papa’s Waltz is, and will remain, a cherished poem that takes me back to my happy childhood with parents and a grandpa who was a good and decent man, despite the whiskey on his breath…

Here is Theodore Roethke reading his poem, My Papa’s Waltz.

See you next time...

www.kayespencer.com

Sometimes It’s Okay to Be Comfortable

 There is a thought in modern self-help that you always need to force yourself out of your comfort zone in order to achieve your dreams. That no truly amazing feat can be accomplished without getting uncomfortable. And I have always prescribed to this idea. Especially when it comes to my writing. 

For the last few years, I have been trying to push myself to write the stories I want to write. To not limit my ideas by what I think I can write, or to stay within the safe borders of what has always been the romance genre. The self-publishing landscape has opened up so many different stories I would have never guessed would be so popular or amazing, and I see no reason the same couldn’t be true for the stories I want to tell.

And I think actively trying to ignore the negative voices in my head has been very good for me. And my writing. I have grown as an author. I’ve developed my voice even more acutely. And I have created some stories and characters I lover, that I never would have without pushing myself in this way. 

But there are some negatives to pushing yourself out of your comfort zone as well. The biggest being it takes work—hard work—to be so uncomfortable and stay determined. It can be downright grueling and very time consuming to keep going even when things are uncomfortable. And while I am getting close to completing some of these new stories, it is often hard to put in the time and dedication it takes to push yourself in these ways.

When Nanowrimo started this last year, I intended to continue pushing myself and my writing throughout the contest. To keep going with these harder stories, and maybe even get one a little closer to completion. But the words just would not come. I was having a really difficult time connecting to the stories and characters in such a pressurized timeframe.

Out of desperation towards the end of the month, I decided to take a stab at an older story I haven’t played with in years (one of my goals for Nanowrimo this year was to only work on stories I had already started, instead of adding even more started but not completed projects to my huge backlog). This story was light, fun, sexy, and very much like the stories I wrote at the beginning of my career. And surprisingly, the second I settled back in this world, the words just flew from my fingers. It was almost like magic. Before I knew it, I’d written over twenty thousand words in less than a week (numbers far bigger than I had done in years).

Maybe the speed at which I could write this story was because of all the work I’ve been doing over the last few years. Maybe it is because this story had been brewing in the back of my mind of so long, it was already formed and ready to come out. But whatever the reason, it felt great. Fun, and freeing and a little like coming home. It was a wonderful reminder that sometimes it’s okay to be comfortable. It’s okay to not push yourself all the time. Sometimes it’s okay to take that break, spend that day on the couch, reread that book you love and have read a dozen times instead of starting a new one, or working on that project that is comfortable and enjoyable.

And while I will be going back to my other stories, and continuing to push myself to try things with my writing I haven’t done before, it was nice to have a break. And remember the fun and the joy that my old comforts gave me. After all, writing might not always be easy, there is always enjoyment and excitement to be had in all stages of the process.

So if you are looking for permission to embrace the comfortable today, to relax a bit and not spend every moment pushing yourself to achieve that next lofty goal, you’ve got it. Those lofty ambitions will be there tomorrow. Take today for you.

Love and Writing - imperfect characters and happily ever afters #PNR #Writing #EnemiesToLovers #shapeshifters

 It’s hard to find chunks of uninterrupted time to really, truly write. This evening, my house is unexpectedly quiet. Nobody needs my attention or a ride somewhere or help with homework so I can actually sit down at my desk/kitchen table and get some work done. I have so many different stories I’ve begun that need my attention. Often, when I sit down, I don’t know where to begin, and this particular evening is no exception. Getting to that calm place of inspiration always takes a moment.

My dog and cats are mad about the thunderstorm that’s been raging for the last hour, so they’re sticking close by my side. I always keep my composition notebooks on standby while I work on various files on my computer. Sometimes writing something by hand helps me figure out a way forward when I’m stuck. I’ve pulled up a playlist full of songs by Rush, Tom Petty, Elton John, Greta Van Fleet, Peter Gabriel, and Alice in Chains on my phone because I like background noise. Total silence is annoying. Also annoying is the sinus headache currently pounding at the base of my skull.

The headache is my near constant companion these days and the pain makes me feel like I’m existing in slow motion, but I can still move, and so I’m moving along, doing what I can. Sometimes, I can focus in on writing or reading a good book and forget that the obnoxious pain exists. Other times, I’m not so lucky. I don’t wait to feel better, anymore, instead, I sit down at the computer and see what I can get done anyway. Nothing stops moving— not the world, not the greed that powers misery, not even hard times that come for people who don’t deserve to suffer— nothing stops, so I try to keep going, too.

People have asked me why I like writing in the romance genre. There’s not enough love, not enough hope or happy endings, so writing romance gives me a chance to create worlds where love is valued and kindness is a strength. I write imperfect characters that have to dig deep to find the courage to find for their happy ending. I like to add shapeshifters, plenty of steamy tension and spice, and lots of suspense to my stories.

Coyote’s Vow, the latest story in my Stranger Creatures series, features a gruff coyote shifter and a sweet, smart ass, telekinetic psy.

Coyote’s Vow - Blurb:

Kylie was the victim of a brutal experiment that gave her telekinetic abilities. Coyote shifter Trevor doesn’t trust the psy but when his feelings for Kylie grow out of control, will he risk everything to be with her? When a deranged doctor has disturbing plans for shifters and psy, can Trevor and Kylie stop him, or will they be silenced forever?

Excerpt:

Who is she? Trevor tried not to stare at the woman sitting across from Shifters United President Matt Blackwell but damn, she was beautiful. Her long, black hair had a purple, glossy tint. Intricate tattoos wound around her arms and lower legs. He wanted to run his fingers along the ink lines of every single tattoo. Her skin looked so smooth and touchable. Bitable too. Nope. Not appropriate. Not at all. He forced his descending coyote fangs to recede.

Blackwell didn’t introduce Trevor to the mystery woman, though, and that sent his curiosity into caution mode. The purple-haired beauty gave him a wary look before glancing back down at the computer tablet in her hand. Right. Business. Trevor had obviously interrupted a meeting. He’d stopped by Matt Blackwell’s hotel room to drop off a folder full of intel and surveillance photos. He needed to find an excuse to stay and talk to the woman with lovely dark brown eyes.

“Thanks for taking care of the research,” Blackwell gave him a nod. “Set the info on my desk and I’ll take a look before the meeting tonight.”

Trevor walked past the mystery woman and set the folder full of information on the small desk beside the coffee table. He stole another, longer glance at the woman. Her nails were painted indigo blue. His favorite color. The tattoos winding around her arms seemed to be in motion, encircling her in their safety. Weird trick of the light. Had to be. He rubbed his eyes. Blinked. The tattoos went still. The woman smelled amazing, like wildflowers after the rain, but she didn’t smell like a shifter. Didn’t mean she wasn’t one.

Scent blockers made it easy for shifters to mask their unique scent, to a degree. The blockers also did a fairly good job at hiding other smells shifters could detect, like fear, desire, and rage. Even so, Trevor could almost always detect hints of the slightly rancid, faint garbage aroma of the blockers, no matter what brand or what home recipe a person used. Coyote shifters could pick up on smells most other shifters couldn’t.

What is the woman with the willowy tattoos? Was she a threat to Blackwell? Maybe a rabbit shifter? Rabbit shifters were the only animal shifters who carried no animal scent, but their eyes.... Not a specific color, just a look. Plus, they usually liked to flash their double rows of horrifying sharp teeth upon meeting other shifters. Just for a flex. The rabbits could be mean when bothered unnecessarily, but mostly, they were pretty decent. The woman caught him looking again and gave him a little half smile. Her pretty eyes with long, thick lashes were definitely not the strange eyes of a rabbit shifter.

“I’ll see you later, Trevor.” Blackwell gave him a pointed stare.

“You’re alright here?”

“I’m fine. I have Nathan,” Blackwell gestured to his giant assistant and body guard who was seated in a chair in the kitchenette, reading a book.

No code phrases were used, and Trevor didn’t detect any signs of distress from the mountain lion shifter or his bear shifter assistant. Trevor nodded. Apparently, Blackwell had no intention of introducing him to the woman sitting with him. Nathan, grinned at Trevor, like he knew something. Fine, Nathan could keep his secret. But Trevor would get information, one way or another.

Purchase Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BZT58GXZ

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/coyotes-vow-christina-lynn-lambert/1143274092?ean=2940185830819

Apple iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/coyotes-vow/id6447381379?ign-itscg=30200&ign-itsct=books_box_link

Kobo Books: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/coyote-s-vow

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1370196

Google Books: Coyote's Vow by Christina Lynn Lambert - Books on Google Play

 

If you’d like to follow me on social media for my latest book information and excerpts, poems, contest info, book recommendations, and other fun stuff, you can find me at:

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Christina-Lynn-Lambert/e/B01MCYK0K7

BookBub:  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/christina-lynn-lambert

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/christinalynnlambert

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15900423.Christina_Lynn_Lambert

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/christinalynnlambert

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/christinalynnlambert

Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/chris4lamb

Wordpress: https://christinalynnlambertwordpress.com

 

The Inspiration Behind The Heartsong Cowboy

 

The Inspiration Behind The Heartsong Cowboy

As a teacher for twenty plus years, children are a deep part of my heart. I would do anything for them and feel very strongly about protecting them. During my first year teaching, I was the assistant director at a college on-site childcare facility. The children would come to our center when their parents were in classes or studying on campus. These young children quickly wormed their way into my heart.

My own drive to work each day was through a not so nice town. Often I was frightened to sit too long at stoplights as I drove through broken down and destroyed neighborhoods. Scarier to me was the fact that my students came from these same neighborhoods and drove these same streets.

One day, a horrible event happened. One of my students was on her way to school when at a stoplight a man jumped into their car and held a knife at the child’s throat while demanding money from her mom. Luckily, her mom gave over her purse and the man left without physically harming the mother or daughter. But I’d always worried about the mental and emotional strain the incident caused the family.

Taking that small real-life incident, I wove in a more detailed story for my heroine in The Heartsong Cowboy. I could imagine how that trauma would have affected her daughter and the determination a parent would feel to try anything to “fix” her child.

Of course, I lost touch with the family and never got to see how things turned out for the little girl. But I’d like to think that she’s learned that not everyone is bad and scary…that she’s learned to trust and find her own happiness. Who knows, maybe she’s even reading this post.  J

A Cowboy’s Whisper is available on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited. You can grab a copy for less than a cup of coffee!

BUY LINK: https://www.amazon.com/Cowboys-Whisper-Colorado-Books-1-3-ebook/dp/B07W57SQD8

 

 

Blurb:

Join three amazing couples who look for love in a small town as they overcome obstacles and find their happily ever after.

 

The Heartsong Cowboy

Can two people, one horse and the power of love cure a little girl?

Angela French blames herself for her daughter’s lack of voice. Determined to do anything to correct the situation, she seeks out Jake Kyncade, the owner of The Heartsong Ranch.

Jake Kyncade hides his own sorrows behind his no-nonsense demeanor. Helping children becomes one way to correct his past. Using equine therapy, he sets out to make a difference.

Can Jake help Angela’s dreams come true or will Jake’s past bring more heartache? Will love save them all?

 

The Heartbroken Cowboy

Love isn’t found at the bottom of a bottle…

Johnson O’Neill joined The Heartsong Ranch to escape his addiction. One night at a friend’s wedding, stress causes him to fall off the wagon and into the arms of the woman of his dreams.

Debra Donahue lost her husband to alcohol then pulled herself up by her bootstraps becoming a million-dollar selling real estate agent. One night with a sexy cowboy and a bottle of whiskey, Debra falls hard.

Can an alcoholic cowboy and a brokenhearted woman find love despite their fears? Or will the bottom of a bottle claim another happily ever after?

 

Claiming a Cowboy’s Heart

Even broken souls deserve a second chance at love….

Elementary Teacher, Michelle Alt has faced untold trials in her life, yet she continues to do what’s right to make things better for the next generation.

Cowboy Veterinarian, Preston Hall has lost everything in order to follow his dreams and return to his grandfather’s small-town practice.

Recognizing each other’s pain, these two broken souls come together to heal, but fear and misunderstandings send their blossoming relationship into a tailspin. Will they be able to put aside their pain to find the love of a lifetime?

 

Excerpt from The Heartsong Cowboy:

With Taylor asleep on the couch, Angela snuck the magazine out of her daughter’s sleeping hands before carrying her to her bed. After making sure her baby was tucked in, she turned out the lights and went to the kitchen. She sat down at the table to study the article about the horse whisperer. The photos gave off a peaceful feeling—so much so, she longed to jump into the images. Along with the horses, there were shots of children laughing and petting the animals. The article mentioned a little boy with Down’s Syndrome whose language increased after a week of animal therapy. The Heartsong Ranch. Even the name sounds encouraging. Dare I get my hopes up?

One photo in particular captured her attention. The owner, Jake Kyncade, wore jeans and a cowboy hat as he stood next to the ranch sign. She took a deep breath as butterflies circled in her abdomen. He’s sexy. Very different from Mike. Mr. Kyncade has this wounded look in his eyes. I wonder what his trauma was. I’ve gotten better at noticing it in others. Still, he’s good looking. Probably married with his own children.

 

About the Author:

Growing up in a small town, Melissa created stories in her head and lived them out with her sisters. They climbed through the quarries, built forts among the leaves and pretended they were their favorite television heroines.

Always trying to spread joy and happiness, Melissa has written over 30+ stories of couples who eventually find their Happily Ever After. Her books are filled with broken heroes and heroines who overcome real-life obstacles and come out stronger than ever. Her children books (written under her childhood name- Missy Watling) feature endearing tales infused with important lessons about self-acceptance.

Escaping the cold Midwest winters, she and her husband, along with furbabies enjoy the beaches of South Carolina and can be found talking to the gators and turtles. She posts photos of her gator friends as well as other wildlife. After all, sometimes they have the best advice!

 

She’d love to hear from you!

www.melissakeir.com

http://www.facebook.com/melissakeir

www.twitter/melissa_keir

https://www.instagram.com/keirmelissa/

 

 

What's Your Pleasure?

 

One question I’ve been getting lately is “Why did you choose the genre you write?” For those who don’t know, my focus is contemporary mystery/thrillers and crime fiction, with some romance thrown in. I chose this genre because it’s what I like to read. I originally became a fan of pulp fiction mysteries from watching old film noirs on TV. I’d see something like “Double Indemnity,” “The Maltese Falcon” or “The Big Sleep,” then seek out the book at the library. If I liked it, I’d make my way through everything written by these authors. Came a point where I thought “I’d like to write one of these myself someday.” This was followed by the mental challenge “Then either write the damn thing or stop talking about it!” I decided to add some romance to the mix to create more interesting characters and broaden my audience.

 

I conducted a survey with members of a local writer’s group I belong to, focusing on why they chose the genre they write. The majority consensus was pretty much the same reason I had—“It’s what I like to read.” Some other responses included “Been dreaming about being a mermaid since I was a kid” (from a fantasy romance author), “I like challenges” (romantic mystery writer), and “After I read and re-read ‘The Mystery of Camp Laughing Water’” (mystery/suspense writer). Some people made an unusual confession—“It chose me!” The participants I polled write contemporary romance, paranormal, young adult, fantasy, poetry, and mystery/suspense.      

 

Of all the genres on the market, romance seems to have sprouted the most branches. Popular topics include fantasy, gothic, contemporary (defined as post-WWII), inspirational, Christian, historical, paranormal, western, suspense (crime, mystery), and science fiction. Category romances still comprise the biggest portion of the market. They’re usually a pre-determined word count and fit into specific niches that readers feel comfortable with (medical, billionaire, bodyguard/protector, cop, bounty hunter, military, cowboy, etc.). Category romance lines each have a distinct standard style, involving similar settings, characters, time periods, levels of sensuality, or types of conflict.  

 

Additionally, there are many sub-genres that have developed loyal followings, such as BDSM, time travel, steampunk, vampire, horror, bizarro, shape-shifter, LGBTQ, Young Adult, Black Love, multicultural, Chick Lit, and erotic. The rise in popularity of e-readers made erotic romance one of the fastest-growing trends. The reason was anonymity—if it’s on your Kindle or phone, it’s easier to conceal what you’re reading when someone walks up on you. This practice also coined the unfortunate term “mommy porn.” These novels are a blend of romance and erotica, characterized by strong sexual content, but they can contain elements of any of the other romance genres. They tend to use more frank language, avoiding many of the euphemisms found in books with milder content (i.e., the dreaded Purple Prose).

 

Erotic romance novels typically have explicit sex scenes instead of a more sensuous encounter and may include different acts or fetishes. As opposed to pornography, erotic novels feature well-developed characters and a plot that could exist without the sex, but it generally progresses the plot or furthers the character development in some way that’s critical to the story. A standard requirement from most erotic romance publishers is a happily-ever-after or happy-for-now ending.

 

Black love and multicultural romances typically feature heroes/heroines who are African-American, although some multicultural lines also include Asian or Hispanic characters, and interracial relationships. The first line of multicultural romance novels, Arabesque, was launched in 1994. It was followed five years later by the first line of Latino romance novels, Encanto. These novels were originally released in two ways – a bilingual Spanish/English version and a Spanish-only version. Two novels were published every month until late 2001, when the line went into hiatus. Despite the demise, some of the Encanto authors continued writing novels with Latino characters. It’s interesting that although romance novels featuring African-American and Latino protagonists are popular, those featuring Asian or Asian-American characters are rare.

 

The creative writing community is always quick to cash in on current trends or hot-button issues, which explains the rise of some subgenres. I think it’s fair to say that recent political rhetoric is responsible for repositioning the spotlight on certain subjects, along with book banning. These actions have heightened the awareness of so-called “forbidden books” and their topics and increased the public’s interest in them. LGBTQ has been a fast-growing example, especially with social media opening doors that were previously closed, along with more online discussion. Male/male romance leads the topic list, but lesbian, bisexual, transgender, genderqueer, and asexual fiction are all featured prominently.

 

It’s tricky when some writers feel the need to follow a new trend when it catches on, especially if it’s outside their comfort zone. I used to review books by competent romance authors who climbed onto the BDSM bandwagon when a certain self-published book became popular years ago. This was a repeat of earlier trends involving vampire romance and teen-focused stories featuring young wizards. For the most part, the results indicated that these folks should’ve stuck with what they did best.

 

Author Tess Gerritsen has stated "We read romances because we want to feel good about love." To that end, never sacrifice your story to conform to the market, or trade originality to fit a trend. The best stories set new trends, and what matters is that YOU like your story. Experimentation and spreading your creative wings is a good thing, but ultimately you should write what you want. Period.  

 

***

Tim Smith is an award-winning, bestselling author of mystery/thrillers and contemporary erotic romance. His novels featuring former CIA agent Nick Seven have garnered several awards and international critical praise. He is also a freelance writer, blogger, editor and photographer. When he isn’t pursuing those interests, he can be found in the Florida Keys, doing research in between parasailing and seeking out the perfect Mojito. His author page is AllAuthor/Tim Smith 

 

 

 

How My Reading Habits Have Changed

 

Image by nini kvaratskhelia from Pixabay

As a very unpopular child whose father was a professor of literature and humanities, I was a voracious reader. I learned to read by the time I was four years old. At six, I was reading Edgar Allan Poe. My love for the macabre has never ceased. As a teenager, I discovered H. P. Lovecraft and Stephen King. I would much rather be reading than doing homework.

Since I've started writing fiction myself, I'm more likely to read nonfiction, specifically autobiographies and biographies. Unlike my younger days, I prefer to read on a computer. I'm old enough that the computer wasn't even an option in the days of my youth. I believe I got my first computer in 1988. It was an MS-DOS model with actually floppy discs, which gives you an idea of just how old I am. 

I live at least an hour from any city, so I listen to audiobooks while driving. It took a couple of years to listen to all the books in Stephen King's Dark Tower series. The books at the end of the series went a bit off the rails, but I understood why that happened. Stephen King was in a serious accident (he was hit by a van) and was contemplating his own mortality. He inserted himself as a character into the stories. 

My younger self would probably be a bit horrified if she knew just how much her reading habits were going to change when she aged. She could not have imagined being without her beloved stories. 

Cara H

The deranged brain behind C. L. Hart and Lil DeVille