29 August 2014

Welcome M/M Erotica Author Elizabeth Monvey!

Hello Elizabeth!  Thank you so much for visiting Written Butterfly with me today! 

Q) How did you dream up the dynamics of your characters?

I love shifter stories and paranormal in general.  I've read so many werewolf stories and I wanted to create my own spin on the genre.  The Syfy tv show "Bitten" was my inspiration of Tony and his family, and what that culture needs to do in order to maintain it's secrecy.  Aaron is a little too independent, a take matters into his own hands sort of guy, and exactly what Tony needs. 

Q) Do you have any habits that get you in the writing frame of mind?

I listen to soothing music.  I once read that music helps calm the mind to get it focused, and I really think that's true.  When I put in my ear buds, I'm immediately ready to write.

Q) Can you tell us a little about your series? 

I love paranormal stories and even though most of the books of written are contemporary, I had stories in me dying to come out.  I came up with the titles, My Werewolf Boyfriend, and though how easy it would be to switch out the name.  So I came up with "My Boyfriend Is..." series.  So far I have this one, My Vampire Boyfriend, and My Alien Boyfriend.  I've started on My Ghostly Boyfriend.


Aaron and Tony’s relationship is going strong after almost a year, except for once a month when Tony has to return home to check on his uncle.  Aaron feels slighted because he’s never included, so he decides to take matters into his own hand and follows Tony.

Tony Lykes can’t tell the love of his life that he’s descended from a long line of werewolves.  But when Aaron shows up in the middle of a werewolf battle, he’s sentenced to death in an effort to keep the werewolf pack a secret.

Now Tony, who is an enforcer of his pack, has to make the decision of upholding the werewolf law or defying protocol and customs to turn his very human mate.


“I want you naked,” he said, almost ordering Aaron to take his clothes off. His lover backed away and began a strip tease, taking way too long to remove his t-shirt. Tony hurried things along by letting his claws extend to rip Aaron’s pants and boxers off.
“Jesus!” Aaron cried, his eyes wide.
“Don’t be scared. I’d never hurt you.”
“I wasn’t scared. I was thinking that comes in handy, eh?” An eyebrow went up. “I suppose I’ll get those.”
“Shh,” Tony said and placed a normal finger on his lover’s lips. “Not now. Tomorrow we’ll revisit this supernatural madness.”
“Yes,” Aaron agreed. He lifted his head. “Kiss me, Tony. Fuck me.”
Tony groaned at the invitation and cupped Aaron’s head, tilting it slightly to fuse their mouths together. Right now he couldn’t take things nice and slow. He was beyond slow. Seeing his mate in danger tonight had fired his wolf up and what he needed now was to claim Aaron.
The werewolf way.
Their sex life had consisted of ordinary human sex. And yes, it was fucking hot, but his wolf wanted Aaron’s submission because he’d almost lost him. Tony broke the kiss and looked into Aaron’s passion filled eyes.
“Get on the bed, hands and knees, and bow your head down,” Tony ordered.


26 August 2014

Ela Stein - New Release - A Naughty Fairy Tale

Hello Ela!  Thank you so much for visiting Written Butterfly with me today! 

Hi Beth, thank you so much for hosting me today! I’m so happy to visit Written Butterfly again to share a little but about my new release.

Q) This story is part of the Naughty Fairy Tales collection.  How did you come up the dynamics of your characters?

A lot of it was already in place before I even began the story – since I was loosely following the plot of the actual myth, the dynamics sort of wrote themselves when I imagined what Andromeda and Perseus’s relationship would have been like based on the events they went through.

As part of the myth, Andromeda is sacrificed to a sea monster. Now what would a sea monster want with a gorgeous, curvaceous princess? Since this is erotic romance and it’s part of the Naughty Fairytales series, all I can say is that there are plenty of naughty and funky goings on in this story!

Q) I love Greek mythology.  What drew you to this particular legend?

Me too! My mom used to read Greek myths to me from the time I was a baby. I still remember her reading about Perseus and all his trials and triumphs. I also love the fact that he rescues Andromeda. Her own people were willing to sacrifice her to a monster, and he was the only one willing to risk his own life to save hers, even though they were total strangers. How heroic! He’s her knight on a white horse… well, on golden-winged sandals, in this case… and being the son of Zeus and having that god-like body, how could you not fall in love with him :)

I’ve always wondered what those ancient times must have been like in reality – the truth behind the myth. On the other hand, I was just as fascinated by the fantasy part of it – a world where gods really do walk the earth. In my story, I’ve created a world that’s as authentic as possible, but still holds onto all the fantasy. So it’s a bit of historical fiction mixed with fantasy, and with a whole lot romance. I mean, the myths do leave all the “fun” details out, so I made sure to put them all back in, just as they were meant to be.

Q) What are your upcoming projects?

I have a steampunk paranormal fantasy scheduled for release with Loose Id for next month. It’s a full-length novel, and I’m really excited about it – there are steamships and airships, and a feisty heroine with a suitably sexy and brooding hero. Fun and fast paced, with a lot of sexy times thrown in!


~ Editor’s Pick ~

Andromeda’s world comes crashing down when the Gods proclaim that she is to be chained to a rock and offered as a sacrifice to the sea monster that has been ravaging her lands. Terrified, she has no choice but to obey, though the tentacled creature is her worst nightmare come to life, and he has ominous plans for her. Perseus witnesses her plight and comes to her rescue, but liberating Andromeda requires more than just skill with his sword. Will his love be enough to save her not only from the monster, but from her dark past that conspires to never let her go?

When I was a little girl, a snake bit me on the ankle. My mother told the story of how I barely survived, how I had gone in and out of consciousness, flushed with fever, eyes glazed. When I dreamed, I called out about falling into a pit of vipers.

And now before me, my nightmare came to life. Tentacles surged out of the water, but they far more resembled teeming snakes. Unlike octopus arms, they had no suction cups, and ended in blunt tips. Glistening and sinuous, they blindly explored the harsh rock, covering its entire surface, exploring each crevice, and inevitably coming closer and closer to me.

I dug my heels into the rock behind me and curled my toes in. I turned my head and would have shut my eyes, but I couldn’t force myself to stop staring at the monstrosity. Tugging at the shackles did no good and only made the panic surge to a higher pitch until I felt like a wild animal about to become prey.

Only a foot from my toes now, the snake appendages roamed over the rock, some thick and large, like a man’s thigh, and some thin like my little finger. One, about the thickness of my arm, separated itself from the others and moved higher up the rock, coming toward me. I gasped and pulled away from it as far as the chains would allow.

It slithered audibly over the rocky surface and nudged at my toes. I did shut my eyes then, and turned my head into my arm.

It slipped over my foot and wrapped itself about my ankle. I raised my leg and tried to shake it off, but it only coiled tighter about me, digging into my flesh as though to warn me. It wrapped more and more around my lower leg and then began to slowly travel upward, twisting over and over, over my knee and then over my thigh.

I clamped my legs together to halt its progress, but it was far stronger. It wormed its way between my limbs and under my skirt. Slowly it came ever closer to the apex of my thighs, and when it finally reached it, and brushed against my sex, I jumped. The strong muscle rubbed against my clit as it continued to flow upward, along my torso, slowly winding its way. The friction of it rubbing at me terrified and excited me at once. My eyes still closed, I only felt it when other snake limbs joined this one. Another one twined around my other leg, and still others wrapped themselves about my arms.

“My bride,” a rough voice whispered, loud as a thunderclap and yet so quiet I was sure I only heard it in my mind. It carried the same implacable weight of power as the words of the Oracle.

My eyes flew open, and I came face to face with Cetus.

Available at:

About Ela Stein:
Reading was my entertainment and salvation as a child, and it transferred into a passion for writing. I am still very much a reader, and love many different genres, from erotic romance, to fantasy (dark, dark fantasy!), to historical fiction, and that love is reflected in my own writing as well (I don't do contemporary very often). If you'd like to learn more about me, or chat about books and life, you can find me all over the web:

24 August 2014

Welcome Naomi Clark! Q&A and an Excerpt form her New Release!

Hello Naomi!  Thank you so much for visiting Written Butterfly with me today! 

Q) How did you come up the dynamics of your characters?

I always love it when strangers come into small towns – it just makes for so many possibilities. When I came up with the idea for The Beast of Birch Hill, it was almost necessary to play that dynamic, and have Emma be a newcomer with no clue about the people she was about to meet. And to have Abi be both her guide in this new environment, and part of it's mystery, just felt perfect.

Q) Do you have any habits that get you in the writing frame of mind?

I've recently become addicted to making mood boards on Pinterest. I like to have a soundtrack as well, a few songs that make me think of my characters or the overall theme of the story. For The Beast of Birch Hill, I spent a lot of time watching documentaries and listening to podcasts on cryptozoology and monster-hunting!

Q) What are your upcoming projects?

I have so many...My main focus at the moment is an urban fantasy novel which revisits the idea of a stranger coming to a small town with secrets, but it's going to be very different to this story. After that, I have about half a dozen short stories and novellas in various stages of completion. I'm leaning towards finishing the one about selkies...but who knows where I'll end up!

Wildlife photographer and cryptozoology blogger Emma Jordan came to Birch Hill expecting to find another urban legend. The rumours of a big cat stalking the woods around this quiet town surely had to be just that - rumours. But when the evidence starts to pile up that Birch Hill really does have a killer cat on the loose, Emma finds herself caught in a confusing game of cat and mouse. And her blossoming relationship with Abi Blakely might just be pushing her further into danger.


A couple of hours later, showered, changed, and feeling human again, Emma headed back to Abigail's Bakes. She told herself she was just looking to grab a quick lunch and sit somewhere pleasant while she updated her blog. Privately she had to admit it would be nice to just look at Abi while she worked.
            The place was much busier than it had been that morning; it was full of kids and families jostling for table space. Abi and a younger girl worked the counter with cheer and ease, and cafe was filled with chatter and laughter. Emma joined the queue, trying to catch Abi's eye. When Abi saw her, she waved and favored Emma with that infectious smile.
            “How was your hike? Did you catch the Beast yet?” she asked Emma as she served her.
            “Not yet. Maybe later.” Emma picked out a bacon and cheese strudel and a spiced apple muffin. “Do you have wifi in here? I need to get online.”
            Abi passed her a slip of paper with a password on it along with her food. “Help yourself. Catch you later.”
            Emma smiled, hoping the words weren't just a mere formality. She found a table tucked away in the corner and flipped open her netbook. Her main source of income was her photography, supplying stock images for websites and brochures, entering as many competitions as she could, and doing the occasional teaching course if she wasn't traveling. It was steady money, and a hefty inheritance from a grandparent she'd never met allowed her to live in comfort and indulge her other passion – the alien big cat stories. Her blog, After Dark All Cats Are Leopards, was one of the better-regarded in both the cryptid and sceptic communities and she had a steady following. When she'd announced last week that she was heading for Birch Hill, her views had skyrocketed, and even though she didn't have much news to add yet, it was probably a good idea to update now.
            She plugged her digital camera into the netbook and uploaded the photos she'd taken, eating as she worked. The strudel and the muffin were both perfectly delicious, and she allowed herself a brief fantasy of kidnapping Abi and making her bake for her full-time.
            She didn't notice Abi had joined her until the other woman pushed a cup of coffee to her. “Looks like thirsty work,” Abi remarked.
            Emma jumped, then grinned. “Bloggers are powered entirely by caffeine. Thanks.”
            “So I looked you up after you left,” Abi said. “Why big cats?” She leaned her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. Her dark curls framed her face perfectly, her expression attentive and interested. Emma squirmed a little under her keen gaze.
            “When I was a kid I wanted to find Bigfoot,” Emma confessed. “My dad used to take me out hiking in the Rocky Mountains and tell me stories about Bigfoot and skinwalkers, all kinds of stuff. I just loved it. Then I grew up and decided there wasn't much chance of Bigfoot really being out there. But big cats? Definitely.”
            “You're so sure? Even though nobody's found a breeding population of wild tigers anywhere?” Abi asked with a grin.
            America's a big country. There's plenty of space for wide-roaming animals to hide. And big cats are generally elusive in their natural territories anyway. Yeah, I'm sure. People brought lions and tigers over here with circuses in the nineteenth century and there are thousands of people keeping them illegally today. There are orphanages for abandoned exotic animals up and down the country. It's not completely ridiculous that some escape or are released into the wild. And cats are so adaptable. Even if we're not talking big breeding populations, I think it's more likely that there are non-native big cats out there than not.”
            “You love this stuff, don't you?” Abi said, looking thoughtful.
            Emma flushed. “Was I rambling?”
            “No, it's interesting! I wish I could come out big cat hunting with you, but Jed probably wouldn't let me.” She stuck her tongue out as if she'd eaten something distasteful.
            “Well, he's not coming either,” Emma said. “I take it he's more than just prickly with you?”
            Abi shuffled Emma's empty plates around, looking embarrassed. “Oh, we just...clash. He's pretty conservative and I'm not. He thinks I lower the tone of the neighborhood.”
            “Not a fan of baked goods?” Emma joked.
            “Baked goods or lesbians,” Abi said with a shrug.
            Emma's heart gave a little twist, but she kept her tone calm and amused as she replied. “Oh dear. I'd better not answer any personal questions he asks me then.”
            Abi gave her a thoughtful look again that turned into a shy smile. “So what are you doing for the rest of the day? I'm off this afternoon.”
            “I'm going back into the woods this evening but I'm free til then. Maybe...” Emma searched for something that didn't sound too forward but still made it plain she liked Abi. “Maybe we could hang out?” Ugh. Lame.
            Abi didn't seem to notice. She flashed a dazzling smile. “How about a guided tour of Birch Hill? There's not much to see, but with the right company it has a certain charm.”
            “It's a date.”
            Abi stood, grabbing Emma's plates. “Give me an hour and we're on.”
            Emma watched her sashay away with a flutter of excitement. If the Beast of Birch Hill didn't show up, Abi might prove just as exciting.

About the Author
Naomi likes writing, perfume, fancy tea, and unfathomable monsters from the dark spaces between the stars, not necessarily in that order. She has been writing stories ever since she learned how to write, but is still trying to master the art of biography writing. When she's not dealing with werewolves, demons, or sea monsters, she's hanging out with her cat and probably watching a documentary about Bigfoot. If the cat isn't available, she's with her fiancé watching cookery shows and silently plotting her next book.

Find me online:

22 August 2014

Q & A with London Saint James - New Release!

Hello London!  Thank you so much for visiting Written Butterfly with me today!  Okay…love the title “Confessions of a Chocoholic”!

Q) How did you dream up the title and the dynamics of your characters?

I had two words. Love and chocoholic. From there, I formed Confessions of a Chocoholic, which is about a single mother who hasn’t had the best of luck in the man department, but finds someone unexpected in her life who gave her a box of expensive chocolates in an interesting way. I suppose after having the title and the heroine, the hero and everything else just sort of followed, and then I let the characters tell me where they want to go with their story. *Smiles*

Q) Do you have any habits that get you in the writing frame of mind?

Oh sure. Music is a huge habit or perhaps ritual for me. I always have my iPod loaded up and listen when I write. I also write from my laptop. Never my desk top. I hate sitting all prim and proper at a desk to write. I have to be comfortable. And I usually have my glass of ice and good old Coca Cola at my fingertips too— ah, sugar, caffeine and carbonation!
Q) What are your upcoming projects?

Currently I’m in the editing stage of Spanked by the Bad Boy, which will be releasing from Decadent Publishing soon, and is the first book in a standalone series of books called Bad Boy Fever. As the title suggest, there will be a little bit of spanking fun in this contemporary erotic romance.  *Winks* From there, it’s up in the air as to which WIP I’ll be finishing next, but I’m leaning toward a paranormal piece with a sexy wolf shifter and a human woman who brings trouble to his door. The working title for it is called, The Quarter. Or perhaps a BDSM piece called Exposure. Who knows what will tickle my muses fancy to complete first. 

Thanks so much for having me over to visit today and talk about my new release. When I sat down with my trusty laptop to write a story about love and chocolate here’s what I had to draw inspiration from: My love of writing romance. My own little addiction to almost everything chocolate. A picture of a sexy woman with melted chocolate dribbles on her lips, chin, hands and chest. And a cute quote from Dave Barry about…. You guessed it—chocolate. I connected all the dots and came up with Confessions of a Chocoholic, which is a contemporary erotic romance and part of the Romance on the Go line through Evernight Publishing.

I had a great time writing Lexi and Colton’s story, and hope the readers enjoy it, too.


Like countless single mothers, Lexi Collins wears many hats. Loving daughter. Big sister. Sole breadwinner. Freelance photographer. Graphic designer. Best friend. But while those roles are fulfilling, the one thing that eludes her is finding the right partner in life.

When Colton Westmore, the sexy owner of the popular dating site, LoveMatch.com sweeps Lexi off her feet, her chances of finally grabbing that golden ring increases exponentially, but a bleached blonde bombshell threatens to put an end to Lexi’s new found happiness.

Are her assumptions about Colton wrong? And if so, there’s only one woman who can ruin the magic between them, and that woman is Lexi herself


Colton took the few steps it required to cross the space, put his drink on the table behind me, and took the camera from around my neck. He placed it on the plush banquette tucked around the table. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he said.
“You’ve been thinking about removing my camera?”
“No.” He dipped his head, and brushed his lips across mine in a whisper-soft touch. A burn started and seemed to smolder between my legs. “I’ve been thinking about tasting your lips.”
Unable to stop myself, I dropped my unopened can. It made a dull thud when it hit the floor beside me. I stood up on my tiptoes, wrapped my arms around his strong neck, and pressed my lips to his.
His large hand rested between my shoulder blades and the other on my lower back. I actually hated the shirt I had on. Even though it was lightweight, the barrier of the material kept me from feeling his flesh on mine. My thoughts quickly changed back to his tongue as it traced along the curve of my upper lip. He nibbled at me. His hand slipped up to the back of my moist neck. He twined his fingers into my curls and tugged gently at the base of my hair, pulling my head back. He kissed my jaw. My exposed throat. Nuzzled his nose in the hollow there.
“You taste salty sweet,” he said in a voice that tantalized.
Feeling lightheaded, I moaned when he did a combination of open mouth caresses and teeth-nibbles on my skin. But, when he swept his lips up to my ear and drew the fleshy lobe into his mouth, I wanted to crumple.
“That feels so good,” I said. I shuddered in his arms.
“You’re beautiful, Lex.” 
His warm breath gusting across my hot flesh and his words were enough to make chills ripple down my spine. 
I slid my hands along the back of his shirt, feeling the muscles I had to see. I tugged at the bottom, lifting. “Take this off,” I said in a breathless pant, throwing any pretense of caution to the wind.
Colton brought his head up from my neck. Without hesitation, he ripped the T-shirt from over his head and dropped it. Tanned skin, immense biceps, large pectorals with small, pebbled, copper-colored nipples, and a slab of abdominal muscles greeted me.
I reached for him and fingered the ripples on his stomach before I kissed his flesh, peppering his chest with hot kisses. When I flicked his nipple with my tongue, the muscles beneath my hand and mouth jumped. I lightly bit. He groaned and moved the hair from my face. I glanced up at him from beneath my lashes. He was looking at me with an intensity that shook me for a moment, but I didn’t have time to dwell upon the emotion because he picked me up and sat my backside down on the table. My legs dangled over the edge. My flip-flops took a nosedive.
“Are you sure you want this?” Colton asked.
“What if I said I never wanted anything more?”
He unbuttoned my shirt and folded back the cotton fabric. “What if I said, I know.” It wasn’t a question.

Buy Links:

18 August 2014

Book Cover- Niah - Before & After photo

This is my cover for my very short story/prequel for an upcoming romance story in the Sex, Love & Aliens anthology, due in October. 

When Niah awakens in a morgue, covered in plastic, he can’t remember anything. As he tries to escape, he's captured and told that he's no longer the same. He's not just Niah anymore.

In fact, he’s the first to survive an experiment that infused him with alien DNA.

How is irrelevant. Why is unthinkable. And he's not alone. When another man is transformed, Niah decides they will act like they conform. They will learn everything they can about the aliens...and then take their planet back.

Isn't it great?

By boyfriend did this cover in Photoshop. 

Want to see the original photo?



I took this picture of my son's eye.  I told him to be afraid, and this was the look he gave me.  (The scratch came from the damn dog)  The story is about Niah, who wakes up in a body bag, only to find out he "died" during an experimental procedure that grafted alien DNA onto his.  When he reanimated, he goes through a change, and becomes a hybrid. 

Niah is the first, but he won't be the last.

When Beachwalk Press had a submission call for their Sex, Love & Aliens anthology I immediately dreamed up Bree's story.  I'd already written Niah into the beginning of another story but hadn't worked out the details so it sat for a long time in my "Story Ideas" folder.  After I wrote "Gravitation", I thought about Niah's short story and decided to release as a free read in order to tell about what happened to him.

I had so much fun writing Niah, and how he falls in love with Bree, and their mission to save Earth.  I hope one day to return to the aliens of the TEV because they're interesting. 

Sex, Love & Aliens releases in October 2014!

The world belongs to the Invaders.

Bree has lived her whole life hidden in the wilderness, away from other humans and the aliens that destroyed what was once Earth.  On her way to the mountains that her father had always talked about, she stumbles across a wounded alien.  Common sense tells her to kill him before he can kill her, but her compassionate side can’t obey.

Instead, she helps him.

The two forage a temporary truce when necessity bands them together for protection.  But as the days slip by, the alien Niah won’t leave her, and as friendship gives way to something more, she can’t help but wonder when, or if, them being on opposite sides will break the fragile bonds of love forming between them.

To stay updated with the release, follow me on Twitter or Facebook

Download your FREE copy of Niah now: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/467913

13 August 2014

Q & A with Lilith Duvalier's New Historical Release!

Hello Lilith!  Thank you so much for visiting Written Butterfly with me today!  I read your blog about how “We Wander Far From Home” and I must say, it was quite a journey, eh?  Thank you for sharing!  (if anyone would like to read about this journey, here is Lilith’s link: http://lilithduvalier.weebly.com/blog/gearing-up-for-a-release-on-a-long-term-project)

Q) What tenacity dug into you to make you not give up on this story?

I think what made me determined to finish this story was the fact that I could keep coming back to it.

I understand that writing is more work than inspiration, but I’m a big fan of the path of least resistance as a writer. If I’m working on a project, and suddenly get excited about a new one, I’ll set the first project aside and write the new one until the spark gets fanned out, then go back to actually slogging on the first project. So at any given time, I have a primary project, and then 3 to 10 Works in Progress. Works in Progress get divided into two folders “Current Projects” and “Drafts”

“Current Projects” are things I’m actively working on. Usually the story that I intend to have done within two months, and the two stories I’m planning to work on after it.

But the “Drafts” folder is a dangerous place. Sometimes 20 pages that were rushed out in a fit of inspiration languish in the “Drafts” folder for months without ever being opened again. Sometimes they get pulled up and Frankenstieined together with other drafts until something totally different gets moved back to the “Current Projects” folder. Stories from the “Current Projects” folder have been banished to the “Drafts” folder when the inspiration for them dried up. And every once in a blue moon, I’ll open up a document in the “Drafts” folder, admit that I have no ideas for, or interest in it anymore, and it’ll get dumped into the trash bin.

“We Wander Far From Home”, or as it used to be called “The Western”, had it’s own folder and even though it never demanded a place in the “Current Projects” folder and I published 10 other books between starting and finishing it, it was always a story I could pull up and add something to. I never opened it up without writing at least a couple of paragraphs. It’s the only thing I’ve ever written that never got saved for the night without the word count having gone up.

I guess it’s just been the one thing that was always “in progress”, it just took way longer than average.

Q) Do you have any habits that get you in the writing frame of mind?

No. I only have bad habits that I’m trying to break. I need to stop being constantly distracted by Tumblr, I need to admit that I cannot work with the TV on, and I need to be better about being really into the story before I have a glass of wine while I write. I also need to take more nights off.

At the moment I spend pretty much every night watching Netflix and checking tumblr with a glass of wine on the table and a story open, slowly dropping words into it. I would be much more effective if I just poured some tea, listened to music and had a dedicated writing time a few days a week.

Q) What are your upcoming projects?

I am hard at work on “A Long Hard Summer” and “Counting Kisses” right now.

 “A Long Hard Summer” is a cute comedy about two counselors at an all boy’s summer bible camp who spend the book, and the summer, desperately seeking a private place to have sex, but keep being thwarted by work schedules, administrative supervision, and the fact that the only even semi-private places on the camp grounds are where the cooks smoke pot.

I’m trying some style experiments for “Counting Kisses”. It might end up being a little weird. The essential plot is that two men, who have been best friends since child hood, hit extreme financial crises at the same time. They are so life-threateningly broke, that when a man at a bar offers them money to screw each other on camera, they accept. But one of the conditions is that they cannot kiss during filming.  The story becomes about all the times they haven’t kissed during their long and romantically charged friendship.

I am very excited for “We Wander Far From Home”! It’s my first full length novel, and I’m very proud of the way it combines a nuanced love story with an old fashioned western adventure. I started this story in 2009 with the intention of submitting it to an anthology call, but the deadline flew by before I figured out how to finish it. I stuck it in a folder and forgot about it for a little over a year. Then I started taking it out every few months, writing another chapter here, doing some edits there and putting it away again. It didn’t really come together until January this year and I’m thrilled to see it published by Evernight!

A crack shot best gal, a former criminal lover, a sudden ejection from everything he's ever known, and the faintest taste of freedom. That's what drives Will Kearny out of the comfort of a normal life and out into the Nebraska wilderness. Soon, the sweet, quiet dairy farmer from Minnesota is robbing stage coaches, knocking over banks and running off into the mountains to celebrate in Henry Fitzpatrick's arms.  But winter's coming on, the stage coach routes are drying up, and the law is onto them. Life on the edge is the only way Will and Henry can be together, but life on the edge is short. Can forbidden love survive in a harsh world?

He shifted closer to Henry’s body under the covers and realized that they were both naked. Had he really been so exhausted last night that he didn’t remember undressing? Or possibly being undressed? He set a hand to Henry’s chest, tracing a line down to Henry’s flat, red nipple. The contrasts of Henry were astonishing. The hills and valleys of his chest and shoulders, the gentle touches of his rough hands.
This man was a criminal.
And between him and Annie, they had made Will one, too.
Memories sparked from last night. Henry’s hand wrapped around Will’s, tugging him patiently into this room. Henry’s stubbled chin pressed to his face in an affectionate good night kiss that Will had barely been conscious enough to return.
So. Sweet. Affectionate. Beautiful. His.
But a criminal.
Well, Will supposed, you couldn’t have everything. He pressed his body against Henry’s, closing the small, cautious gap between them, and kissed the other man. He slid his hands out of Henry’s and wrapped his arms around Henry’s back, running his fingers over the ridges of muscle there.
Henry began to kiss him back slowly, as though not quite woken from a dream, before his loose grip tightened and his hands began to wander up Will’s body.
“Morning,” Henry murmured.
“Afternoon, actually, I think,” Will replied.
“Mhm,” Henry responded disinterestedly as he resumed the kiss, sliding his tongue past Will’s lips like walking through an open door. He took control of the kiss. Eased his body on top of Will’s. Will sighed happily as he sunk down into the feather mattress under Henry’s solid weight. Despite Annie’s assurances that there were other men like him, Will hadn’t really let himself believe it until the night Henry kissed him in the barn, only weeks ago.
The way that Henry’s skin moved over Will’s, the heavy scent of him dominating Will’s senses, made it easier for Will to concentrate on his rewards rather than his sins.
Will reached up to take Henry’s arm in his hand.
Henry pulled away, caught Will’s hand and pushed it back down to the mattress. “Shhhh…lie back.”
Will watched as Henry’s hands ran over his chest. Down his stomach, palms flat and warm. He traced his fingers down into the grooves between Will’s hips and his groin, where the skin was soft and sensitive, unaccustomed to being touched.
Will pushed his hips up against Henry’s hands, asking for more. He’d been ready back in the cabin a few nights ago, he didn’t need all this careful touching.
Henry’s fingers slid back up his chest, rubbing and pinching his nipples.
Will felt his breathing getting heavier. His hips worked up against empty air. He looked down between Henry’s legs and swallowed. Henry’s cock was standing between his legs now, thick and flush and full.
And out of reach.
“Look at you,” Henry murmured, rolling the bud of Will’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger, every touch making the nerves more sensitive.
The sluggish warmth in Will’s belly started to coil, not urgent yet, but threatening to become so. “Henry, please.”
Henry grinned, and patted Will’s chest as though he was going to stop teasing. Then he dropped his mouth down to Will’s chest and took a reddened nipple into his mouth.
The warmth in Will’s stomach tightened suddenly. The steady hum of arousal in his body spiked. He dug his fingers into Henry’s shoulders and bucked his hips up against nothing when the grip made Henry suck harder.
Will reached for his cock while Henry rolled the bud between his teeth and flicked his tongue over it. Henry caught Will’s hand and brought it back up to his shoulders.
“Henry, I don’t wanna wait no more,” Will moaned as Henry let his nipple go with a loud, wet “pop.”
“Yeah,” Henry said. His voice was heavy and rough and his eyes were dark with lust. His gaze ran over Will’s body like another caress and Will shivered. “I won’t make you.”
Will’s breath caught.
Henry moved off his thighs, arranging himself so that he was kneeling between Will’s legs. He slipped his hands underneath Will’s knees, calloused hands tickling at the sensitive skin underneath the joint. Will felt too exposed as Henry lifted his feet up off the mattress and spread his legs wider, so wide that his toes poked over either side of the mattress.
Henry arched down, kissing Will. Will set his hands back to Henry’s shoulders, letting himself stay open under Henry’s increasingly insistent tongue, kissing back with everything he could muster while Henry turned the kiss dirty and breathtaking. He finally settled his body down against Will’s, pressing his rock hard cock into Will’s body, rubbing against him until Will moaned against his lips.
“No more interruptions. Door’s locked. Hell, I even jammed a chair under the handle.” He dropped his face to Will’s neck, sucking at a tendon, then worrying his teeth against it. “Even if the goddamn law comes knocking, even if they break down the door, I’m gonna make you come before they cart us away.

07 August 2014

Welcome Selena Robins! GIVEAWAY!

Hello Selena!  Thank you so much for visiting Written Butterfly with me today! 

Thank you for hosting me, it’s a pleasure to introduce myself and share my writing journey with your readers.

I must preface this blog post with a disclaimer: English was NOT my first language. It was actually my third. I also led a sheltered life. Not that I'm using these as excuses for the following little blip in my life that I am sharing. :) 

Q) How did you dream up the dynamics of your characters?

As a reader myself, I want to suspend belief when reading, so I keep this in mind when creating my own characters. I put my characters into situations that is out of their comfort zones, so that ordinary people (the characters) are placed in extraordinary situations.

I ensure they have a history and parts of that history contain secrets that the other characters don’t know about. My characters are flawed, have quirks (this is my favorite part when creating characters, giving them each a unique voice and quirks), they will behave in surprising manners, surprising even themselves. They will have people who like them, and people who don’t like them.

I also give them goals and a strong drive to reach those goals.
Q) Do you have any habits that get you in the writing frame of mind?

Desperately trying to clear my calendar of things to do, so I can write. As Nora Roberts said in an interview, something I have never forgotten…how does one write? “Ass in chair.”

Q) What are your upcoming projects?

ONCE UPON A KISS will be released soon, and I’m also working on turning my comedy short story, TEMPTED BY AN ANGEL into a romantic novella. I also have a suspense/thriller out with my agent, and the final draft of DECOY IN STILETTO’s (a romantic-comedy-mystery). As you can see, I really have to clear that calendar and get that ass in chair a lot more for a lot longer.


I was a newlywed, living on “love” and the afterglow of honeymoon and my groom had jumped on the Joe Weider Bodybuilding product band wagon, and had entered a weight lifting competition.

One morning he asked me to run to the sports store and pick up an athletic support.

He followed up with, “You do know what that is, right?”

I rolled my eyes back to yesterday. “Well of course I know.”

After all, I had seen those muscled gumba’s in his weight lifting magazines (really, I did pick them up to read the articles) wearing all sorts of Mr. Olympia Wannabe gear.

I figured this was my opportunity to be inducted into the Above-and-Beyond-the-Call-of-Dutiful Wife Hall of Fame one day, so I ventured off to the sports store to purchase one athletic support.

I walked in and stood at the cash waiting for the clerk. I'm one of those people who prefer to be waited on, instead of rifling through racks of articles when I’m out of my element, like a sports store.

The hunk-and-a-half clerk behind the counter came to my aid. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” I said. “I need an Athletic Support for my husband, please.”

”Okay, what size?” he asked.

“Size? Yeah, I guess every guy is built different. Hmmmm, let's see, he's really big.”

At that remark, two customers, both male of course came up to the counter.

Hunky Clerk responded with, “Uh-huh.”

I spread my arms out--I mean really wide--to demonstrate his size. “He's this big.”

At this point the men snickered.

That annoyed me, and even though I was at that time, and still am, rather shy and coy, I turned to the snickering group. “Well what’s so funny?” I asked. “My husband is into health and body building and he's really big and hard now. Maybe you all should try it.” Okay, maybe I’m not that shy.

The snickers transformed into in-your-face guffaws.
Cripes, what was it with these jock types? What the hell was so funny?

Hunky Clerk was in danger of having the Heimlich maneuver performed on him, as he choked on the peanuts he had been munching.

After practically coughing up a lung, the clerk composed himself and said, “Ma'am, I don't think you're accurate in the size.”

Ma’am? This guy was probably older than I was and he called me ma’am?

I didn’t want to address that right now, I wanted to buy the fricken athletic support and leave.

“Look, I should know my own husband.” I spread my arms wide, again. “He's about 46 inches. Just get me an athletic support that fits that size.”

Okay, so more than once I was asked to measure my husband’s biceps with a measuring tape, and more than once it didn’t measure up to 46 inches, but, hey I was in the initial stages of supportive wifehood.

“Well," I said. "Maybe not forty-six inches, more like forty-two. Get me something for a guy who is forty-two inches.”

One customer, whose hair cut looked like a hen’s patooty in a windstorm, looked me straight in the eye and asked, "What planet does your husband come from?”

How utterly rude, I thought. I was getting more than pissed right off now.

I wanted out of this store badly and I wasn’t in the mood to be the local jock’s entertainment of the day.

I gave Mr. Hen Hair my best PMS glare and then addressed the collective jock group. “He's forty-two inches, give or take…maybe even wider. You have a problem with that? I thought women were jealous of each other's bodies. With you guys every size on your body matters doesn't it? Well, let me tell you something, we really don’t care that much for that kind of width. Personally, I was attracted to his nice eyes.”

They laughed even louder.

Little boys in long pants, that’s what these men were.

With the patience of a Saint, I asked, "Do you guys get your ya-ya's standing around a sport store, making fun of women shoppers? Let the clerk fish out this athletic support thingy, and then you can all go back to comparing golf scores.” Geesh

Hunky Clerk coughed again. (By the way, it was the early 90’s we called hot guys, hunks).

I would have offered him a cough drop had he maintained better crowd control, and got me this stupid athletic support so I could leave.

“Ma'am,” Hunky Clerk said. “I don't think you know what you really want. . .”

That did it. “Oh please, don't try to impress me with your sports mumbo jumbo. Just get me the thing. And I don't want to hear about brand names etc. Get me the largest one you have, I'll stretch it out, and be able to tell if it will fit. I've put my arms around my husband enough times.”

More laughter.

Hunky Clerk left the peanut gallery and returned with three packages.

“Small,” he announced, slapping one of the packages on the counter. “Medium.” He slapped this package next to the small one. “And large.” He lined this one next to the medium, stood back, folded his arms over his chest and asked, “Which one would you like?”


The atmosphere turned as quiet as an ant pissing on a cotton ball.
I picked up the Large sized one. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, so that's what an athletic support is? Oh my.”

The night before, my soon-to-be-pulverized husband had talked about buying a leather belt that went around his chest and then wound around his waist to protect his kidneys, and he talked about line definition.

Wasn’t that an athletic support?

Okay, I may not have been paying a whole lot of attention at that point, because all I was concerned about was that the slick oil he used on his definitions not drip onto my newly washed floor. Besides, if I had to listen to one more protein powder drink that was good for us, wheat germ and the proper way to lift anything, I was going to scream. Hey, I worked hard to earn my own heavy weight title; Choco-Cocoa-Queen.

Mr. Clerk--at closer inspection, he really wasn’t that hunky--lifted a brow. “Now do you see why we didn't believe the size you ordered.”

I inspected the packages on the counter. “Hmmm. I gather that cuppy part is not to cover one's nose?”

“No, Ma'am.”

Again with the ma’am!

I held my head up high. “I don't like the color or your selection. I think I'll try another store.”

I headed for the front door, put my hands on my hips and addressed the group, who were now probably giving each other mental high-fives.

I said, “I'll have the last laugh. I'm Italian, I know people. Yeah, that’s right, those kind of people.” I know, 
I had just stereotyped my whole culture, but at that point a gal had to pull out all the ammunition she could muster.

“We don’t get mad, we get even,” I continued. “I know how to put a curse on all of you that will last longer than your hairlines.” I waved my hand up and down and all around. “May you endure a lifetime of running to the drug store in the middle of the night, trying to figure out if you need maxi's, scented, unscented, or light days.”

With that, I turned on my heels, and sauntered out of the store, I may have even added an extra roll to my hip action.

When I was sure I was out of their site range, I ran to my car with the intent of rendering my husband’s forty-two inch chest up and gazing at the moon.

Now had he said, pick up me a testicular cup. That would have been a different story.
You gals get me, right?


From sweet to the naughty, there’s always humor in Selena’s stories. Her work has been described as; genre-defying romance, sexy, written with wit, and splashes of mystery and suspense.

Selena is a self-professed foodie and chocolate guru. She loves to dance with her dog, sing into her hairbrush and write in her PJ's.

In love with Mr. Rugged—as she refers to her husband online—her family, friends, books, shoes, laughter, hockey, lively discussions and wine (sometimes all at the same time).

Selena is a dragon slayer who enjoys reading and writing sassy heroines and hot heroes (the ones your mamma warned you about, but secretly wished she’d dated a few in her life).

Selena also writes children’s stories under the pen name Maddie Ryan.


Twitter - @SelenaRobins

GIVEAWAY: I'll give away a copy of WHAT A GIRL WANTS to a commentator...so leave a message and way to contact you!!