Guest interview with DL Jackson.

Debbie: Morning!! Today we are up in New England talking with DL Jackson about her latest print book release, Rebels and Courtesans. (turns to LJ) HAH! You’re in my territory now. I just love the fall in New England. And yes, I know it’s not technically fall yet, but it is in my mind.

LJ: K. Good to know what’s in your mind. Sometimes it’s some scary stuff. But hey…Nice digs! I like that DL Jackson has a print book. Though I love ebooks, there’s just something about getting to hold a book in your hands and turn pages. You know?

Debbie: Yuppers!

LJ: Look, there’s D.L. now!

 

LJ: Hey, D.L. Ooo, iced coffee. Thank you, how thoughtful! J

DEBBIE: Iced Coffee, bleck, what is with you people and your coffee? Anyway, Welcome back, D.L.

DL: I’m a converted Yankee. Iced coffee is one of the basic food groups.

LJ: Yes it is!

DEBBIE: Ummm, nooooo! Caffeinated Cocoa is, duh!

LJ: Really…you need to try a café mocha. Nuthin’ better than chocolate coffee!

DEBBIE: I have and it’s awful!

LJ: Pft! So we have a print book here with TWO stories in it Awesome! Lets start with Rebel Souls. I just love when the girl falls for the wrong guy. So give us three words to describe Ava.

DL: Rebel. Lover. Friend.

DEBBIE: Oooo. Rebel? Sounds cool.

LJ: You’re a rebel? Tell me your best rebel story.

DEBBIE: Ask my mother, she’d tell you some stories. Well, what she knows of them anyway.

LJ: What a great idea. I’ll ask her when I meet her at RT next year! J

DEBBIE: Hmmmm. Maybe that’s not such a great idea. I don’t need you knowing my secrets.

LJ: Okay, so now I have to ask her! So, DL, Ava fights for what she believes in. She’s obviously a strong woman.  Does she have any weaknesses?

DL: Yes. She loves a man who is on the opposite side of everything she stands for. All her life she’s craved a normal life, but her need to continue the fight, started before she was born, causes her to lose her chance at her dream. She is self-sacrificing to a fault.

DEBBIE: Hmmmm, that is a huge weakness. I’m interested to see how she over comes it.

LJ: Yeah. Wow! That would be tough if he is on the opposite side of everything she stands for. But then, tough obstacles make for awesome stories!

DEBBIE: And What about this Regulator? What can you tell us about him. 

DL: Seth is a by-the-book lawman. He believes the rebels are terrorists, and that their opposition to the League needs to be squashed at all costs. Criminals should be prosecuted at all costs—regardless why they committed the crimes. When he meets Ava, he begins to question everything.

DEBBIE: Ahhhh, so things aren’t always black and white? Great lesson in my book.

LJ: I like that too. It’s always interesting when base beliefs are challenged! Goooood reading! J Who would play him in the movie?

DL: Hmm, maybe Tyler Hoechlin. He looks a lot like Seth. Or at least I’d imagine he looks a lot like my Regulator.

What? You aren’t going to ask about Brodie, the other love in Ava’s life?

DEBBIE: Brodie????

LJ: Oh, crap. Who's Brodie? Please give us the low down.

DL: Brodie is the rebellion leader. He grew up with Ava and was to marry her someday. Ava assumed he was killed ten years before but comes back onto the scene at the same time she meets Seth, tugging her heart and loyalties in two directions.

LJ: Oh wow! Yeah, love the romantic complications!

DEBBIE:  Awwww. Who does she chose?

LJ: Shh! No spoilers! Read the book! J

DEBBIE: Okay. On to Courtesan Boot Camp. Three words to describe Shay?

DL: Beautiful. Focused. Innocent.

DEBBIE: Sounds like me to a T!

LJ: HAHAHAHAHA That’s your best joke yet!!

DEBBIE: Hey, I wasn’t—

LJ: So, DL, tell us something about her that we wont find in the book.

DL: Shay is a rebel in her own right. As a child, she’d sneak away from her Custos to explore the world and ditch studies. She was bred to be a courtesan, her path chosen from birth, but Shay wants more than just a title and position between the sheets. She wants to be loved.

DEBBIE: Yes I’ll forgive the interruption, and hmmm, don’t we all.

LJ: And her Trainer? Three words to describe him.

DL: Strong. Handsome. Skilled.

DEBBIE: Awesome qualities in a dude.

LJ: Absolutely! Does he have a deep dark secret?

DL: He’s left behind his world and life to protect a friend.

DEBBIE: Ooooo, love secrets.

LJ: I gather that. You’re always asking our guests what their dark secrets are.

DEBBIE: And they’ve yet to give me a straight answer. What about YOU, DL???? What’s your deep dark secret. Come on, out with it.

LJ: (rolls eyes) See? There you go again!

DL: Um, how deep? How dark? Do you have a need to know? I’m a woman of many secrets I can’t talk about.

DEBBIE: Why won’t anyone answer that question?

LJ: LOL Maybe they’re afraid of it showing up in a book?

DEBBIE: Would I do that?

LJ: (arches eyebrow) Wouldn’t you?

DEBBIE: Describe to us your bathroom. I have a huge bathroom.

LJ: (throws up hands) Good gosh! There you go again! First you requested a tour of Becca Dale’s house. Then her backyard. You’ve been in Taryn Kincaid’s kitchen. Now DL Jackson’s bathroom? Nosey much?

DEBBIE: I told you before, it’s a need to know. Inquiring minds and all that hooey.

DL: When we remodeled an old dancehall, I had one giant room to work with. My husband gave me a roll of masking tape and said, mark where you want our room, bathroom and closet. So I did. I have a whirlpool tub, tiled around, a large corner shower. Two sinks made from antique dressers that I cut a hole in the top and dropped a porcelain basin in, and a shelf that goes around my tub I have books I’m currently reading on. Three iron candlesticks on same ledge around tub and a huge oval Victorian mirror with a carved gilded frame. There is a bullet hole in the mirror, but I didn’t put it there. It’s why I bought it. My bathroom is my escape place, where I de-stress and my husband doesn’t dare venture inside when I shut the door.

LJ: BULLET HOLE?? Awesome! I so want to redo my bathroom. It would be awesome to have a mirror with a bullet hole in it. Just too cool! (turns to Deb) See? There’s a dark secret right there. How did the bullet hole get there? Now, she says she didn’t put it there, but she didn’t say she didn’t know who did.

DEBBIE: She said she bought it that way.

LJ: Ever heard of misinformation?

DEBBIE: You mean like that commercial where the girl believes everything she reads on the Internet???

LJ: Not exactly. But close enough….

DEBBIE: You mean like all these Bigfoot sightings, but they all got his hair color wrong? It’s like a rusty red, ya know. Not brown.

LJ: Uhhh…didn’t know that. I think you’ve been out in the woods too much lately.

DEBBIE: The woods are awesome. Yesterday we got to investigate bear poop. Need to now where he was going to eat, ya know? It was full of apples and acorns. By the way, it was HUGE!!

LJ: Uhhh…I don’t now how to respond to that.

DEBBIE: No response necessary. Just a cool bit of info I thought you’d enjoy. What about you, DL? Do you hunt?

DL: No, but my husband does. All the deer and turkeys come into the yard when he goes out. I take pictures, so I can show him when he comes back. I even saw a mountain lion across the street this spring. For some reason—my photos make him grouchy. *Shrugs.*

LJ: LOL Love it!

DEBBIE: I can understand where he’s coming from.

LJ: Yeah, you chased a turkey toward your DH, didn’t you? And he didn’t even give you half credit…..

DEBBIE: Yeah, he gave me credit for guiding him to it. But he also told me he thinks I’m bad luck since he only got two and one was when I wasn’t with him. Apparently he usually gets two in VT and two in NY. Whatever, so we have to buy turkey this winter.

Quickies:

Summer or Fall: Fall of course—I do live in New England. My husband used to get so mad at me when we first moved here. I’m originally from Nebraska and they don’t have a lot of trees, not like New England. Anyway, every fall I’d hang my head out the car window like a dog and stare at the leaves as we drove down the road, snapping pictures with my camera. “Get back in the car. You look like a leaf-peeper.” Meh, whatever.

Boxers or briefs (yes I ask this a lot- it’s a must know) Boxer-briefs, but only because you didn’t give me the option of neked.

Walk on the beach or hike in the woods?  Army vet=lived in the woods for months on end with the bugs, the below zero temperatures and snow, eating cold MREs and lacking a toilet and shower. The beach. I choose the beach!The Army took the camping and hiking right out of me. Of course if there was a zombie apocalypse, I’m all for high-tailing it to the wilderness. But we aren’t talking about zombies. Are we? Cause if we are, that’s a whole different answer. Roof tops, high ground... Um, sorry. I get a little off topic sometimes.

Soup and a grilled cheese or Surf and turf? Surf and turf. Did I mention I’m a rancher’s daughter.

Strawberry or chocolate? Chocolate.

Jeep or vette? Beings I owned a Jeep in the Army, I choose Jeep. Are you offering to get me one? I like red...or black. Oh, I live the OD green colored ones too.

Five o’clock shadow or clean shaven? There’s just something about a man that’s a little scruffy. But on the same note, keep them whiskers off my sensitive girly bits if you are going for the rugged, bad boy look. Razor burn is not appreciated.

Pat Patriot or Steely McBeam? Please...you’re really asking me this? Patriots. Off with her head!

DEBBIE: LOL Just making sue your loyalties are straight. Misplaced Yankee and all.

 

Final Question:

DL: Just so you know, this is going to come back and bite you someday—just saying. Muwhahahahahah. Alright, bring it.

….You’re out in the middle of the bayou on your trusty airboat. You’re on a secret mission to retrieve the flash drive containing Top Secret information. Normally, you operate alone, but the dudes upstairs insisted you take a trainee this round. You glance at him. That’s a lot of blood, but he shouldn’t have teased that gator. I know a man-eater when I see one. When the alligator (which you’ve dubbed Killer Dude) attacked, he snapped off your newbie partner’s hand. Yes, the one holding the flash drive. Thinking quick, you slapped a specialized gel pack you got from the first aid kit onto the wound and the bleeding stopped. He’ll survive. But with all the agents and secret operations in play? The clock is ticking and lives are at stake. You stare at the newbie. Hmm…his name is Peter Captainbauer. Coincidence? Maybe I should call him Hook. Later. Right now I gotta get that flash drive.
….You zip through the bayou, searching for that wrist-snapper. You’d recognize the beast anywhere, what with his damaged eye and missing foreleg. He can’t have gone very far. As you circle around, you spot the telltale bumps on the water’s surface…eyes and snout, baby. And one eye bump is messed up. It’s gotta be him.
….The engine quits. Guess your trusty airboat isn’t so trusty after all. You check the fuel. Empty, of course. Can’t Hookboy do anything right? As you straighten, you frown. Peter Captainbaur is gone. All that remains is a single Italian alligator loafer. Wonder if the guy knew it would come to this when he slipped these fancy boy shoes on this morning. There’s some deep, twisted irony in here somewhere. You pull out your Smith & Wesson and scan the area.
….Killer Dude’s head pops above the surface just in front of the boat. You manage to get off two shots before the beast does a quick tail flip and rams the bow. Tumbling to the airboat’s floor, your hand slams against the edge of the boat and you lose your grip. Ker-plunk. Your S&W disappears below the murky swamp surface…right along with the first aid kit. Can this day get any worse?
….You quickly check the boat and your pockets, coming up with an antique broche you bought at a plantation sale, a book on how to renovate an old house, and three beef jerky sticks. If you leave, Killer Dude might disappear forever – though from that hungry look in his eye, he’s not planning on leaving without a snack for the road…or would that be slide? And you’re not planning on leaving without that flash drive. What do you do?

DL: Is that Troy from Swamp People over there? “Hey! There’s a tree-shaker over here.” I whistle and jump up and down. After I have their attention, I sit down and wait for my knights in shiny rubber boots to come on over and rescue me, while I eat my jerky and read my book. I’ve been meaning to brush up on my plumbing skills anyway.

….Don’t look at me like that. You didn’t say there weren’t any natives in the swamps. What? I’m a girl. Sometimes batting your lashes gets you whatever you want.
….And did you have to sink my handgun? S&W aren’t cheap. And hey, the killer gator should be satisfied, having feasted on my stupid partner that jumped ship.

LJ: I’ll give you points for creativity!

DEBBIE: LMFAO! LJ has been foiled again!

LJ: Not me…the enemy has been foiled again. DL saved the free world! And speaking of which, thanks so much for coming by! You are welcome back anytime!!

DEBBIE: Oh, um, yeah. ( pats LJ on the shoulder) that’s what I meant, the enemy. Soooo, yes DL please join us again with your next release or anything else you would like to chat about.

LJ: What??? I am NOT the enemy! I am an artist, posing imaginative and compelling scenarios for fellow artists to creatively escape.

Debbie: No, you’re the evil interviewer trying to make the interviewee cry. Just call ya Barb.

LJ: Nooo…I’m the sweet one in this duo. The innocent, kind, coffee-lover one.

Debbie: (breaks out in a coughing fit, Hot Cocoa spewing out my nose.)

LJ: Cool! Didn’t know you were multi-talented! Were you in the circus or something, have your own act spewing things out your nose? Did you shoot peas at bells and play the Star Spangled Banner? I bet you were a hit! Why did you ever leave the circus?

Debbie: Funny girl you are. I’m gonna send you somewhere, and it wont be the circus.

 

Rebels and Courtesans

By D.L. Jackson

BLURB:

It’s a big universe out there. Forget boundaries. In these two novellas born in the stars, challenges are faced and hearts captured.

Courtesan Boot Camp

Shay has one chance to become what she’s been born and bred to be, a royal courtesan to a king and queen, but will falling in love with her trainer throw her off course, or finally put her on the path she was always meant to take?

Rebel Souls

Ava has lived her entire life fighting for freedom against an oppressive government. When she falls for a man who stands on the opposite side of the line she’s drawn, all she’s worked for may vanish, including her future with a Regulator who she has no business loving.

Genre: Sci-fi romance, erotic romance, fantasy
Heat level: 4
Word count: 74k

BUY LINKS: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Decadent Publishing


EXCERPT:
New Xiera Port docks, ten years before….

"Come with me, Duchess."

Ava snapped awake and stared into the lapis depths of Brodie Mark’s eyes.

"We’ll make history today." He straddled her hips with his hands pressed into her bunk on each side of her head, leaning in with his lips inches from hers.

"I’m not dressed and if that was a pass, it was really bad." The New Xieran summer had been hotter than usual and the scorching afternoon baked the air in her cabin, forcing her to strip to the thin T-shirt and her skivvies. Sometime during her nap, the sheet had worked down to her knees, exposing the naked flesh of her thighs and her belly, where her shirt had bunched up.

"Not a pass." His smile started as a twitch in the corners of his mouth and quickly spread to his whole face. Jewels twinkled from around her hips and navel, reflecting in Brodie’s gaze. "And it’s more than obvious you’re not dressed, Duchess."

"Brodie," Ava gasped and grabbed the sheets. She yanked as hard as she could in an attempt to cover her body. Best friend or not, he didn’t need to see her nearly naked. "You’re not supposed to be here—when I’m alone." She shoved his shoulder, pushing him back. "Uncle Theo will kill you if he finds you in here."

Brodie shrugged, knowing there was little chance of that. Her uncle had left for a meeting and told Ava to stay put. She’d soon grown bored and dropped into sleep only to be woken by the twenty-year-old heartthrob.

"I’m serious. You shouldn’t be in here."

"I know," he said. "But you’re always safe with me. And when you’re not with me…." He pulled a medallion on a long chain from his pocket and dangled it before her. It spun around, glinting in the light pouring through her cabin’s portal window. "I have a surprise." He dropped it on her chest between her breasts and leaned back in, pressing closer, until Ava’s breath caught in her throat. "Today is special—monumental."

"It is, is it?"

His tangled hair hung in a mass of dreadlocks around his face and dirt smudged his left jaw. It didn’t temper his devastating looks. Many an innocent girl lost her virginity to Brodie at the crook of a finger, and Ava was determined not to be one of them.

She tugged her gaze from his and stared at the open door to her quarters, anything to get her mind off him. "You need to get out of here before my uncle comes back."

"I will if you come with me."

Ava turned back to him. "My uncle will kick my ass if I leave the ship."

"What is it the Terrans say? Damned if you do—damned if you don’t?" He cocked his head and gave her a wicked grin. The muscles in her thighs clenched and her heart began to race. Two years older, Brodie had been the leader of a pack of feral children. Now a man, he’d joined the resistance and had quickly

climbed the ranks. Taller by a foot and twice as strong, he could easily force Ava to come along, but instead, he asked with excitement beaming from his eyes. "You know you want to."

Ava snorted and fought the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Brodie Mark, you’re likely to get me into trouble."

He sat back on his heels and laughed. "I am trouble." Brodie was as tough as a seasoned soldier and twice as lethal. He’d been forced to fend for himself and had killed to survive since the age of five. Brodie had very few things he valued, and those few things governed his honor code. That code meant he’d never harm a Rebel, or those that served the cause. Most of all he’d never harm her. Going with him should be safe.

She’d first met him on the street as he’d followed a target when he was twelve. She’d tagged along, wanting to get a closer look at his blaster rifle. Brodie told her to go away, but Ava had been persistent, dogging his heels until he’d spun around and knocked her flat. "Not this time. It’s too dangerous for little girls. Someday when you’re older."

"I’m not a little girl. I’m ten."

His gaze swept over her as he stared down. "You look like a baby."

"I’m a Frost, not a baby."

Brodie’s eyes had popped wide. He gave her a curt nod. "Be safe, Duchess. Go home. You can come another time. I promise, I’ll come and get you when you’re ready."

It had been the first time he’d called her that, his pet name.

It had taken her years to realize it wasn’t a nickname, but a title, one she’d hold if her mother hadn’t murdered her husband and run off with her father.

"Well, are you coming?" Ava pulled out of her memories and stared Brodie in the eyes. She bit her lip, debating whether it would be worth the trouble she’d get into. Seeming to sense her indecision, he gave her his best pouty face. Ava’s heart skipped, and she fought the giggle. Puppy dog eyes looked ridiculous on the dangerous Rebel. She should tell him.

"Well, Duchess?" Charm, charisma, and heat rolled off him.

He knew she couldn’t say no.

Brodie pulled Ava down the street. He held her hand, his fingers laced into hers. Energy zinged from the point of contact, making her stomach flip. "You didn’t think I forgot your birthday, did you?"

"It’s my birthday?" Ava stumbled and came to a stop. She’d not celebrated the silly Terran tradition since she was six, and only because her father had insisted. With her father and mother gone, the day seemed to become a normal day, twenty-six of the same hours she lived every year.

Brodie turned around and stepped in front of her. He took her other hand and walked backward, pulling her along. "It is." He smiled. "I didn’t forget." Mischief sparkled in his eyes, and Ava’s heart skipped.

"It’s not important." Ava rolled her eyes. "You shouldn’t bother."

"Your uncle told me your father was Terran, that you celebrated your birthday every year when he was alive."

She shrugged. "But I’m only half Terran. To the Nexians, it’s insignificant, a waste of time. Our births, our sex—everything about us is engineered from the embryo. Why celebrate the day you became a slave to a government?"

"But you weren’t engineered."

"Many Nexians are. My mother…it’s not important." She sighed. Maybe it was. She missed sitting with her family, opening gifts to celebrate holidays from another world. A child of two worlds, Ava never lacked for heritage, and her family had ensured she knew where she came from and who she was. Even so, they never tried to make her into somebody she wasn’t. Strange, Brodie would want to renew the traditions that died with her family.

"I’m Nexian, and I celebrate my beginning, even though I don’t know the exact date." He let go of one hand and turned, tugging her along. "Almost there."

She reflected on the direction they’d traveled, through back alleys, down the infamous Slaughter Ave., and deeper into the Blue District, heading for the hovering docks of the darker sector of the city.

 

AUTHOR BIO:

D. L. Jackson is an award-winning author of urban fantasy, science fiction, military romance and erotic romance. She loves to incorporate crazy plot twists, comedy and the unexpected into her worlds. As a U.S. Army veteran, she naturally adores men in uniform and feels the world could always use more. She does her part by incorporating as many sexy soldiers in her novels as she can. When she isn't writing or running the roads, you can often find her online chatting with her peers and readers. Grab a cup of iced coffee, pull up your virtual chair and say hi. She loves emails and blog visits from her readers. www.authordljackson.com

 

Dare to Cross the Line of Whip Cream? @DecadentPub @Eva_Lefoy

More!

Debbie: Howdy all. Today we are smack dab in the middle of a pastry kitchen visiting with author Eva Lefoy.

LJ: Sooo glad I brought my coffee with me today! (deep inhale) And everything smells so good. Nothing like fresh baked breads and pastries. I’ll try one of those cheese Danishes!

Debbie Yuck! Fresh baked crusty bread or maybe an apple turnover. No cheese Danish for me.

LJ: Oh good! Extra for me! J

Debbie: (cocks eyebrow)

LJ: Mmm…yummy. (offers a bite to Deb) C’mon. You know you want some.

Debbie: Nope.

LJ: Wonder if that hooded guy who’s always following us gets to eat pastries like this. I mean, he chases us everywhere. That would burn a lot of calories. You’d think he’d get hungry.

Debbie: Do you really think he eats???? He’s the hooded dude. All I’ve ever seen is a boney finger pointing out of his long sleeve.

LJ: Hey look! There’s Eva now!

 

LJ: Hey, Eva! Glad you’re here to talk with us today and tell us all about your book Sweet Cravings.

DEBBIE: Welcome to our humble, uh…kitchen. Let’s get right to it before LJ gets to full of Danish to think straight. So what’s with this fascination with whipped cream of yours?

EVA: It began at a tender age. In a hot attic room. During the summer. When we were out of Hershey’s chocolate syrup… And it tastes a LOT better than candle wax!

DEBBIE: Am I the only one with V.C, Andrews’ Flowers in the Attic flashing through their mind?

LJ: Was there whipped cream in Flowers in the Attic story? I thought it was arsenic!

DEBBIE: My question is why was she up in the hot attic and where the candle wax came in?

LJ: Maybe the bulb in the attic burned out and she had to light candles…

DEBBIE: Okay, we can go with that.

LJ: (Blinks) What, you’re agreeing with me this early in an interview? (shakes head) So, Eva, let’s talk about the heroine of Sweet Cravings. Give us three words that describe Violet.

EVA: Insecure. Enthusiastic. Spellbound.

DEBBIE: Ooooh, I like spellbound, intriguing.

LJ: (grumbles) Wish I could put you under a spell, so you’d get me a Danish and another cup of coffee.

DEBBIE: OMG! Like you need more coffee.

LJ: (Arches eyebrow) Don’t I? (leans closer to Deb) So, let me ask you this: Are you feeling lucky, chick? Do you really wanna see me without caffeine?

DEBBIE: Actually, yes. I think it would be hilarious!!!

LJ: You’re wearing a leather thong and brassiere under your clothes, aren’t you? Because only a dominatrix would be amused by inflicting something so utterly, horribly, unthinkably cruel.

DEBBIE: I’d never wear that to an interview. (grins) Tell us, Eva, where does Violet work?

EVA: She works in a major department store with a catalog department. She’s in catalog. I used to work on catalog at one time. It’s got everything. Except leather whips and ball gags.

DEBBIE: LMAO!!! (in my singsong voice) Eva has ADD.

LJ: Umm…I think that’s OCD.

DEBBIE: Nooooo, ADD.

LJ: Hmm…maybe it’s both. (Glances at bakery display cabinets) Look, fresh bear claws!

DEBBIE: I do believe it is both for you. Luckily I have the patience of a saint and am always here to redirect you. Eva, tell us something we don’t know about Violet.

EVA: She dislikes skinny men.

LJ: I can relate to that. If a guy’s too skinny, ya gotta worry you might break them during…um, fun time. You’re really into it, going at it, and then Snap! Aw, broke my toy. L

DEBBIE: OMG! Did you just say, “Aw, broke my toy??” Really?

LJ: Well, sure. You know men…they like to be played with like a toy. Not to be confused with “toyed with” which is a whole other thing.

DEBBIE: Hmmmm, another question for the hubby.

LJ: (grins innocently) On to Max. Eva, three words to describe him.

EVA: Open. Meticulous. Talented.

DEBBIE: Anal??

LJ: (chokes and blows coffee through nose) Oookay. Starting to worry about you. Where are you going with that comment, woman?

DEBBIE: In my experience guys who are Meticulous and talented are also very anal creatures. Ya know…goes back to that OCD that Eva doesn’t have.

LJ: Okay, first when she said, “It’s got everything.” It came across as though she’d studied it enough to know every item in the catalog – which if it is sizable, to know that information would be more obsessive than having an attention deficit. If she had ADD, she probably couldn’t have gotten past page 2 without getting distracted, much less known the fact there were no leather whips or ball gags. — HEY! Look, fresh bagels!

DEBBIE: Holy crap. I was just making a funny, because if you read the sentence, She works in a major department store with a catalog department. She’s in catalog. I used to work on catalog at one time. It’s got everything. She jumps from Violet working in a department store, to the catalog dept. That she used to work in a catalog, to…well you readers get it right…It was funny. Now Ms. Analytical LJ has had to pull a Sheldon again and obsess over it and now it’s just not funny anymore. Sigh.

LJ: (sets down coffee cup) What d’ya say? I zoned out at “crap”. Here, I got a bagel for you.

DEBBIE: Do you EVER listen to me???

LJ: Hey, Eva, so what I really want to know is why Max decided to become a pastry chef?

EVA: He likes women! Okay, men do eat pastry but look, who really needs that chocolate donut?

DEBBIE: I do, I do!!

LJ: Down, girl! Good gosh…wait, did you have some of that caffeinated hot cocoa you’re always going on about??

DEBBIE: Well, yeah! Can’t beat em, join em.

LJ: Now it’s all starting to make sense. Hey, you know, whipped cream is super good on hot chocolate…and café mochas for that matter. So, Eva, does Max like whipped cream, too?

EVA: It’s not a “thing” for him like it is with Violet, but he’ll swim in it if it will please her.

DEBBIE: Hmmmm. Wonder if that would work for my guy??

LJ: Oh, God! Now I have this image in my head of you and your new hubby…Arrrrgh! TMI!! Can’t…get…it…out. Where’s a hammer so I can knock myself out??

DEBBIE: (hands over a sledge hammer) Here ya go. Hammer away.

LJ: Hey look! Hot cinnamon rolls!

DEBBIE: When did you start writing?

EVA: Kindergarten? LOL I doodled little stories as a kid. Wrote oh-so-deep poetry as a teen (gack!) and later went to college. Although sis is the one with the journalism degree, I was the one that became a reporter. When that job ended about three years ago I found another outlet for writing … bwahahaha.

DEBBIE: And what an awesome outlet it is.

LJ: Yes, it is! Can be therapeutic, too. Killing people, blowing stuff up, torturing characters… Wait, did I say that out loud?

DEBBIE: Yes. So, Eva, what’s your favorite genre to read?

EVA: So. Not. Fair. I read historical, science fiction, urban fantasy and then all those in Romance and erotica too. As well as paranormal and M/M and ménage and ….. sigh.

LJ: Yes! There are soooo many to choose from. Neat that you don’t lock yourself in.

DEBBIE: Yeah, I’m trying to broaden my horizons. Eva, tell us one of your deep dark secrets?

EVA: Not a chance! I’m keeping them for myself!

LJ: Why do you ask that question? I mean, if she told us, it’s not like we have doctor-client privilege. We’d be obligated to go to the police. Then who would let us interview them, missy??

DEBBIE: One of these days, some sucker is going to answer. And I won’t go to the police. I’ll just tuck it away for future use.

LJ: Or we could use it in a book!

DEBBIE: That too. (looks at Eva) Do you believe in the boogieman?

LJ: OMG! Tell me your sweetie did NOT leave the basement door open again! Surely he learned his lesson from the first time!

DEBBIE: Nope he hasn’t and I think I’m bringing him around to my way of thinking.

LJ: Whew! Thank goodness! So, Eva…?

EVA: Nope. That doesn’t mean I don’t like to shoot though. Give me a nice Glock and I’ll find a boogieman to use as target practice.

LJ: Liking the way you think, Eva! I’d be right there next to you. Course, not sure there’s a firearm that would take down that hooded guy following Deb and me.

DEBBIE: I’m still researching that.

LJ: Gotta be an answer somewhere. Hmm…hey, we haven’t tried getting those cans of Reddi-Wip and spraying them at him….

 

Quickies:

Sweet or Savory: Sweet

Silk or flannel: Silk. I am at that age when flannel is a no-no.

Clam digging or squirrel hunting: Clam digging. I was a Seattleite for 15 years.

City lights or night country sky: Both. I’m a little Donny Osmond but I’m also a little Marie.

Boxers or briefs: I don’t care as long as they aren’t white.

Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate. As if that’s a REAL question. Ha!

Steak or Eggplant Parm: The veg. Always the veg.

 

Final Question:

You’re on the SS WhippedAndCreamed, hurtling toward an interplanetary conference dealing with the latest styles in military uniforms. The topic: Loose and Flirty or Tight and Teasing? Why did the captain send me on this mission again? Oh yeah, it was this or a crash course in learning the language and history of the Bolognese…a slow, boring, unintelligent race of slugs.

      You’re chatting with the food replicator, trying to get the dang thing to understand what you mean by hot cocoa – because for some reason it keeps giving you a bowl of steamy Marisian Plesic dung. Eew! Without warning, the lights dim and a horn blares. “Red alert. Red alert. This is not a drill.”

      Pft. Security can take care of whatever that’s about.

      A dark poof of smoke appears in the mess hall. Some freaky blob wallows on the floor. “Hey, Bob, what’s that?”

      Bob leans over and touches the blob. He disintegrates into ashes.

      “Bob!” Not that he was the brightest phazer in the armory, but still…he was pretty cute. What a waste of rock hard abs!

      “We are the Bolognese. This ship will be annihilated.”

      “Oh, frack!” The so called unintelligent race of slugs has got some balls…well, somewhere in that blob.

      The slug shakes and steam curls into the air around it. Then the thing just disappears, a smoking hole left in its wake.

      “Holy freaking frack!” The Bolognese can sweat acid? Who knew? You gulp. Well, if I’d gone to that conference, then I guess I would’ve.

      The SS WhippedAnd Creamed lists to the starboard. You stumble and slam into the wall, another bowl of Marisian Plesic dung crashing against your feet, staining your sweet Kelli high-heeled boots. But then you notice the soothing rumble beneath your feet has stopped. “The bastard Bolognese slugs got to the engines!”

      The intership com crackles to life. “This is the captain. The Bolognese have invaded the ship. They’ve jettisoned the escape pods, jammed communications, destroyed the shuttles, and are systematically burning out all critical ship functions. That means life support will be out soon. If anyone is still out there, you must save the crew. Fight these bastard slugs any way you can…but watch out for the acid. It’s dea—No! No! Stay back! Arrrrghhhh!” The com goes dead.

Well, frack. He had to get that last part in there about saving the crew. The damn slug couldn’t have acided him before that? Guess now I have to do something about all this.

You check your pockets and come up with lip balm, a small tube of perfume (which now that Bob is toast, you might not be needing), and a spoon (which you’d planned to use to stir your hot cocoa). The survival of the SS WhippedAndCreamed are depending on you. What do you do?

 

EVA: To save the crew and possibly all of humanity I made a rash decision. Hoping that the Bolognese needed air to breathe just as we do and environmentals would therefore be the last to go I hacked into the controls for the ship’s internal air system, setting the intake to the mess hall and closing all external exhaust. Then I got down to the messy work.

First I pried the replicator’s cover off and re-routed the food delivery chute to the inside of the nearest air vent.  I quickly programmed the replicator for the maximum serving of whipped cream topping – no container - on an endlessly repeating cycle. I held my breath and punched the button.

The replicator dinged as the first giant serving of whipped cream shot into the air vent. Then whoosh it was sucked away, spreading droplets of dairy goodness throughout the ship. I inhaled the sweet scent. Suddenly, life smelled a heck of lot better than my boot. But who was I kidding? According to my internal calculations, one serving of whipped cream lacked the caloric density to coat the entire ship and everyone on it.

“Aaah!” The cry sounded as though it had issued from engineering. Another round of topping shot into the vent and I routed it directly to that floor. I heard a muffled groan and even with my limited culinary skills I knew I needed more.

“Cargo bay, this is the mess hall. I need every available canister of lactose  replicator base opened and beamed directly to my location.”

The answer was slow in coming. “Excuse me? We’re under attack here, Miss … Miss…”

“The name’s Pantyduster and I’m well aware of the problem. If you don’t get those milk products here on the double, we’re not going to be able to save the ship. Do you read me?”

In the ensuing silence I could mentally picture him frowning in confusion. Clearly he didn’t understand only milk products could put out the fire of capsaicin, the source of heat in chili peppers and other fine weapons of destruction. He couldn’t make the mental leap, but I was way ahead of him. “Look, if we don’t drench this ship in whipped cream and half-and-half we’re all gonna die.”

“Okay, whatever you say Pantyliner.”

“That’s duster and get it here on the double.” I cut off communications just as another shot of topping whisked through the air vent. The sweet smell had me licking my lips, wanting to lick the walls. But I caught a dark shape coming toward me from my right and froze.

“Prepare for extinction, human.” The Bolognese ambled forward, using what kind of locomotion, I could not tell. I certainly wasn’t going to lift it up and look underneath.

“Back! Stay back, you … you … monster!” Ding. The replicator shot another load of white fluff into the air vent. I snagged it with my bare hands, and tossed the whole serving onto my attacker. It landed on his head like a Baked Alaska hat.

“Eeeeeee!” It shrieked and shrank back, halting its advance.

My culinary knowledge had at last been vindicated. I took a moment to bask in the glory, standing smugly with my arms crossed. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.” I pressed the communication button. “Attention crewmembers. This is lieutenant Pantyduster. I have found a way to disarm these creatures. Slather yourself with the nearest dairy product. Do not be afraid. Lactose has a counteracting effect on the creature’s acid sweat.” Eeew, even saying those two words together made me want to vomit.

The transfer beam appeared seconds before a large container labeled “milk-base, for use in 2210 model replicators only” arrived. The thing landed between myself and the creature who was now trying to rally. He sped toward me, and I dipped my hands into the white-ish liquid. “Get back. I’m warning you!”

He kept coming so I let him have it – flinging a good sized amount of milk-base right at its … er … head area. It splashed over him, running down the sides. “Nooo!” it moaned. His round shape caved in, looking like a piece of crumpled up paper and farting sounds issued from wherever its sphincter was located.

I held a hand over my mouth to keep from gagging and motioned to two nearby ensigns. “Come help me with this.” They scuttled up like nervous Aluetian Crabs. I snorted in disgust at their timidity. “We have to get this into to the air vent. Now.”

Finally they each grabbed a handle and we hefted the giant barrel up to the air vent. We poured the whole thing inside. Whoosh! The air vent sucked it away, circulating it all over the ship. Another barrel arrived, and then another. We sent those through the chute too. Pretty soon, the air was rent by squeals of fear and pain coming from those blobulous creatures. “Ha! Got you!”

“Abandon ship. Return to Bolognese sovereign vessel immediately!”

The ship rocked as the combined weight of the invaders exited the ship en masse. The pesky devils were finally gone.

In the ship’s emergency lighting, everyone glowed white. I licked a glob of base off my lips and wondered what the hell they put in the stuff. The ship’s internal comm. came on.

“Congratulations, Pantysmear, you’ve done it! The ship is saved!”

Over the applause I heard the replicator ding. I reached back to turn it off since we didn’t need any more whipped cream, and stopped. There in the air vent sat my hot cocoa.

With whipped cream on top.

LJ: HAHAHAHAHA! Awesome! Yep, you survived…sweet job, too! J

DEBBIE: OMG! But now they’re all covered in whipped cream!

LJ: And the problem is….??

DEBBIE: They’re all covered in whipped cream!

LJ: Yes, Deb. Go talk to your man. No, better yet, text him now. (turns to guest) Thanks so much for talking with us today about your book. Hope you come back and visit when your next story is released. It’s been great fun!

DEBBIE: Yes it has! Come back anytime!

 

LJ: Wow, I’m stuffed. All these pastries were sooo good. I just wish I could focus my OCD on weight loss but I guess the C part of the acronym is literal. (goes to counter and orders a dozen donuts)

Debbie: Seriously??? (rips bag out of LJ’s hand and shoves it in oversized pocket) Come on, we have brainstorming to do on ETE, demons to create, bad guys to wreck shit. H&H’s to torture.

LJ: Wait! (grabs Deb’s arm) I knew it. There he is.

Debbie: The hooded dude? How did he find us?

LJ: Quick, distract him. (grabs the bag from Deb’s pocket and throws it at Death)

Debbie: Crap. It went right through him.

LJ: Yeah, didn’t see that coming. Guess that answers the question of his tastes for baked goods.

Debbie: Shut up and run!

 

Sweet Cravings

By Eva LeFoy

BLURB:

….Riding the waves of a sugar high, Violet Cunningham seduces the town’s newest pastry chef, slathering him with whipped cream in his secret kitchen. But all that is made of sugar melts, and her brazenness vanishes along with it, leaving her alone once again with her insecurities. Deciding to avoid temptation, she’s mortified when her boss sends her back to sexy chef Max’s kitchen to ask him to cater a company dinner.
….After he turns the tables and seduces her, Max disappears the next morning. Violet blames herself but is it true or her old fears talking? When stray pastries show up at work, there’s only one man that could be responsible… and this time she refuses be distracted by creamy temptation. Well… maybe just a little…

Genre: Contemporary, erotic romance, rubenesque, foodie romance, BBW
Heat level: 4
Word count: 19k
Cover art by Tibbs Design

Buy Links: Amazon | Decadent Publishing

 

BLURB: 

….His mouth formed me a soft smile as he unlocked the bowl from the commercial-grade machine and held it up for my inspection. It was full of gorgeous, buttery-smooth, almond-scented whipped-cream filling.
….I gasped as warm rushes of sugar-power surged through my veins once more and nestled in my nether regions. Bam! I was back in business. With my mouth watering, I hurried forward and dragged my finger through the fluffy goodness. Mmmmm. What texture. So soft yet firm. So smooth and creamy. I brought a big, thick glob of creamy whiteness toward my mouth. With sheer heaven inches from my taste buds, I paused to glance up at his eyes. They glowed with acceptance and approval, and I realized he had done this on purpose—given me my confidence back. The laugh crinkles around his eyes lent a generous warmth to his face, and my heart squealed its tires in amazement. All the sudden, it wasn’t sweets I wanted, but to dive into those deep brown eyes and find a different kind of satisfaction, one I hadn’t experienced in a long time. And never with such a dreamy-hot chef.
….Who was about to get stripped naked.
….I licked the filling off my finger damn fast and reached toward his shirt buttons. He sucked in a sharp inhale and dug his fingers into my hips as I pulled him toward me. Excitement jolted through me at having him so close. I liked the fact my boldness surprised him. Liked even more that he did nothing to stop me. Just watched wearing an ever-increasing smile as, one after the other, the buttons were undone. I flung the material back to expose a magnificent, well-built chest with two half-erect, succulent, raspberry-tinted nipples. My tongue longed, to lavish each one with personal attention.
….But first, I spread the whipped cream over his darkly haired broad chest creating a lip-smacking landscape as beautiful to me as a French Impressionist painting. He laughed. I stood back to admire my work and then leaned forward to taste my masterpiece. Mmmmmm. My mouth exploded with happiness at the intersection of male skin and flawless, honeyed flavor. I licked, moaned, and licked some more. He tugged my hips to his, leaving no space between our bodies. His cock ground against me, and I bit his chest, nipping with hungry intensity. Losing myself in the moment, my teeth scraped over a nipple and I savored his groan like a fine wine.

AUTHOR BIO:
….Eva Lefoy writes and reads all kinds of romance, and is a certified Trekkie. She’s also terribly addicted to chocolate, tea, and hiking. One of these days, she’ll figure out the meaning of life, quit her job, and go travel the galaxy. Until then, she’s writing down all her dirty thoughts for the sake of future explorers.

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