Pimp My Book: Love Shadows by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

Welcome to Pimp My Book. Authors helping authors get the word out on the printed word is a great form of kinship among key pounders. A good source of this is guest blogging. Pimp My Book is a series to bring various authors of every kind to my eclectic blog.

Today, we have Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy, another fabulous author with Evernight. Their newest release, Love Shadows, came out in February 2012 and is the fourth book in her Love Covenant series. They’ve come here to give you a little insight on the novel. Enjoy!

Evernight Publishing’s

Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

featuring Love Shadows

I adore vampires especially the one I created, Will Brennan, a more than two hundred year old Irishman who quotes Shakespeare, smokes cigarillo, sometimes drives an eighteen wheeler as a cover and way to pass the time, lives in a castle and loves his Cara to distraction. His stunning good looks, dark hair and amazing blue eyes are based on an Irishman I once knew.

What is it about vampires we find so fascinating? I’m not sure even though I’ve been into vampires from an early age and I write vampire romance with my Love Covenant series from Evernight Publishing. One of my first published pieces of short fiction was an erotic vamp tale I titled “Flame” which appeared in a magazine down New Orleans way.

Maybe it’s because vampires are immortal. That offers a certain appeal because vampires can be ancient and yet appear very young, even handsome. In most lore, vampires radiate (but don’t sparkle) with a sexual energy and appeal which becomes almost irresistible.

My fourth book in the Love Covenant series, Love Shadows, is now out from Evernight Publishing and continues Will and Cara’s amazing love story. Here’s the blurb, an excerpt, and be sure to comment for your chance to win a PDF copy of the new release!
Cara couldn’t be happier now that her sexy vampire husband Will Brennan located his long lost brother Seamus. Her new found brother-in-law even has a theater where she can sing – until a vampire named Henri shows up in the audience. He covets Cara but not for a happy ending. The old vampire, far more powerful than Will or Seamus has a bad reputation among the undead.

Back in Memphis Henri demonstrates he can make them suffer at will. A cat and mouse game begins and takes them back to Missouri, then onto Texas for what they hope will be a happy family holiday.

A last minute grocery store run puts Cara in Henri’s hands and leaves Seamus near dead. When Henri takes Cara deep into the mysterious back waters of Caddo Lake, it’ll take more than just Will Brennan and his brother to save her – if they can.

Here’s the blurb:
Cara couldn’t be happier now that her sexy vampire husband Will Brennan located his long lost brother Seamus. Her new found brother-in-law even has a theater where she can sing – until a vampire named Henri shows up in the audience. He covets Cara but not for a happy ending. The old vampire, far more powerful than Will or Seamus has a bad reputation among the undead.

Back in Memphis Henri demonstrates he can make them suffer at will. A cat and mouse game begins and takes them back to Missouri, then onto Texas for what they hope will be a happy family holiday.

A last minute grocery store run puts Cara in Henri’s hands and leaves Seamus near dead. When Henri takes Cara deep into the mysterious back waters of Caddo Lake, it’ll take more than just Will Brennan and his brother to save her – if they can.
Here’s an excerpt from the newest, book four of the series, Love Shadows:

“Are you still cold, Cara?” he asked, his breath soft against my face. I could smell the alcohol from the drinks and the smoke of his many cigarillos. “Let me warm you up.”

I answered him with my lips, latching onto his mouth with the finesse of clasping a delicate filigree chain yet with the strength of a snapping turtle. I stroked his lips with mine, claiming my right and he responded with power. He kissed me back until my head whirled and I appreciated the heavy bed beneath and above me, a stable place in a spinning world. Bold as the highwayman he’d once been, he ran his hands over my body, awakening each nerve, notifying every cell of his need. My want answered it and we came together, touching, stroking, biting, and even licking with the force of the mighty Mississippi River that flowed not so far away.

His body moved over me like a raging floodtide, sweeping away my worries and leaving nothing but this sensual moment between us. I felt my nipples harden even as my hand, stroking his cock, which strengthened in my grasp until it had the solid feel of stone. Within, my body prepared for him by easing the passageway with wetness and as he fondled me from throat to my cleft, my body refused to wait. I pushed upward until my body bumped against his and strained with the overwhelming need for release. As our skins touched, our bodies savored the feel of one to another, Will’s patience eroded. He drove into me with such speed and total impact that I crashed, my body dropping back against the mattress, helpless against his invasion.

As the essence of his loving poured into me, I drowned in it, delighted in the immersion and opened to him, all defenses down. At that second of total connection, I cried out, my voice a wordless shriek to express my overwhelming pleasure. Will silenced me with his mouth, his tongue entering my mouth to move in the same rapid in and out sequence as his penis. When I came, it happened with shuddering and with such total awareness that nothing outside this room that bed mattered. I clung to him so that I wouldn’t fall into oblivion and he filled me even as he held me tight.

Love flared between us, the emotion as potent and strong as the musk that filled the room around us from our physical pleasure. We were one, body and soul, in those moments and together in a way that I’d never been with anyone else and would not ever be. Such intimacy must be rare, I thought, as I lay wrapped in his flesh, his smell on my skin and I treasured it.

To the east, morning must be breaking. I could feel it now, a sense of danger, a feeling that my consciousness must soon fade to black and he knew it too. I fumbled to throw a cover over us both and as I began to sink into that darkness, Will whispered,

“Are you warm now, mo anam Cara?”

“Oh, yeah,” I whispered back, my lips making tiny baby kisses against the base of his throat. I knew he liked it and his smile lit, tender, as we went to sleep together.

When I roused, come nightfall, the bed stretched large and empty around me. Will hadn’t been gone long and I could guess that wherever he was, he would be with Seamus. I knew he wouldn’t leave without me so I took my time. I enjoyed a long, leisurely bath complete with scented oil that left me feeling almost boneless. Since this was Halloween, I figured we’d be staying home the way I’d planned. But when I drifted downstairs, wearing nothing but a brocade dressing gown Will bought me last winter, barefooted, I found the brothers dressed to go out. Their dark heads leaned together as they sat talking in the flickering light of the fire I’d asked Malachi, Will’s faithful human servant, to light in the parlor but when I entered, without a sound, Will glanced up with a smile.

“There you are, Cara.” He stretched out his hand to me and I crossed to him, my hand straying across his broad shoulders when I leaned down for a kiss. He tasted of wine, not the Moscato that we both preferred but another vintage, tarter and less sweet. “I was about to come up to find you.”

Where can you buy Love Shadows?
Evernight Publishing
Amazon
Smashwords
All Romance ebooks
Bookstrand

Where to Follow Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy:
Seanachie Stories
A Page In The Life
Facebook Author Page
Twitter

Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy has been kind enough to offer a free copy of Love Shadows to one lucky reader. To enter, please leave a comment and a means to contact you should you win.

The Crit Police

I’ve belonged to private crits groups, anonymous email ones, and a couple of sites devoted to writers helping writers. I’ve found, for the most part, the help to be useful in fixing errors my glazed-over I’M THE QUEEN OF THE WORLD! eyes have missed. No writer has mastered the art of perfection though we try. As with most people’s opinions, you have to take it with a grain of salt. Is the person giving you advice on your manuscript pointing out your logic errors? Are they finding the plot holes the size of the Grand Canyon? Or are they the kind that either rewrite your manuscript or give you a pile of inane drivel that has nothing to do with what you wrote?

Today I’m talking about that last part. It’s an annoyance to a level that is face palm worthy. The site I invest the most time in for posting and critting work has seen its shares of ups and downs in membership. I’ve watched as people I adore leave in a huff or to get away from the distraction the place can be. I’m sad to say, in my experience, some of the people that come in are a bit on the touched side.

Granted, critting is serious business and a new person, who let alone has trouble showing their own work, must first offer their opinions on a complete stranger’s manuscript. Daunting, right? Still, it’s part of the learning process. In order to get, you must give and hopefully learn from how others do things. I know I have learned some new tricks of the trade and broken free of my covered shell over it.

In order to help our fellow man, I offer my humble suggestions to get you eased into this quid pro quo environment.

Grammar is good but readability trumps it.

Yeah, I said it. This isn’t to say I don’t find grammar important–far from it. I’m saying the overall concept/plot/characters are far more important. What good is having all the punctuation, tense, and proper meanings if the story reads like a college term paper? If you’re going to get down and dirty, you’ve got to comment on more than the grammar fail. Tell the author what worked for you, as a reader, and what left you baffled at the altar while your spouse-to-be makes out with your best man/maid of honor…or both.

Don’t focus on just the negative.

Even the worst writer has a golden nugget factor in the story, even if it’s the overall concept (though poorly executed) of the story. Let them know that! Tactfully, mind you. Some can take harsh criticism akin to telling them to stick their manuscript in a shredder, take the clippings and allow a pack of wild dingoes to ‘do their business’ on them before using it as garden compost. Others pretend they can while secretly they’re in the corner ruining their eyeliner. Best ere on the side of caution.

But…

You know, or should know, the connotation of ‘but’. Example: “I really think you’re pretty, Mary Sue, but your sister Bobby Jo has those real fine sea green eyes I could get lost in for days”. This is what I call the back-handed compliment. You give praise at first yet when the word ‘but’ is involved, it negates the feeling of accomplishment the person thought they had in your initial ‘before the conjunction’ words. I find the term ‘however’ a little less jarring. Example: I find that dipping one’s toes in the cool water of the creek refreshing however the algae that sticks between my webbed feet is a little icky. See? Isn’t that better?

Leave the rose-colored glasses in the desk drawer.

If a critter says this never happens, they’re telling a tall tale. It happens to the best of us. We’re chugging along, gobbling up chapter after chapter of someone’s manuscript and just loving what we see. In fact, there seems to be nothing wrong with it and it’s best they send it to the first literary agent they accost in a dark alleyway.

Wrong.

If this ever happens, take a step back from going through the chapters and take a break. Read a book or crit something that’s not this particular author’s if you can. Once you’ve looked into the mirror and realize those glasses are perched at the end of your nose, you’ll be able to toss them off and start anew.

Don’t list a whole bunch of writing books for the aspiring author (or worse–published author) to get to ‘hone their craft’.

Okay, we get it. You think these books merit some attention. However, pounding someone over the head with an arm’s length worth of reading material when they haven’t asked for it just smells of pompous ass to me. These books are more like guidelines than hard and heavy rules. While I find reading them (I’ve indulged in On Writing by Stephen King, Lessons in a Lifetime of Writing: A Novelist Looks at His Craft and The Successful Novelist: A Lifetime of Lessons about Writing and Publishing by David Morrell, and The Fire in Fiction by Donald Maass) give perspective, it’s not going to make you a literary genius no more than writing 5,000 words a day is going to make you the best writer EVAR!

Well that’s all my addled brain can come up with for now and I hope this has helped in some way. As I’m sure I haven’t covered everything, please feel free to add your own bits of wisdom in the comments section. I’d love to read them.

Six Sentence Sunday: Chained to the Sands

I have another name for this piece–Slave of the Sands. I’m still leaning toward the title of the blog post though. This is my erotic romance gladiator piece. Corina has been a slave most of her life. It’s not until a man cast into chains and thrust upon her to teach him the language of the land does she feel the twinge of homesickness and, more importantly, a longing denied to her–love.

In this six sentence tidbit, we see Areus’ side of things. Yes, the same character from Death Comes. This is his first time meeting Corina.

Areus forgot the guards and turned to the source of the voice. Beyond the other set of bars, a woman stood with a cloak covering most of her body. As she removed the hood, he caught a glimpse of the gossamer cloth revealing everything of her shapely form right down to the auburn curls of her sex.

Her blue eyes confirmed his suspicion. She belonged to his people and the collar around her neck marked her a slave. Why, he wondered, was her hair the color of the midnight sky?