A Sample Lesson from my new class, "Brainstorming to Revision."

In this post, I'm sharing a lesson from my month-long online class "Brainstorming to Revision" at Savvyauthors.com. The class starts January 1, and includes 12 lessons posted on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, students are invited to post scenes for critique.

 I wrote this class while actually in the process of writing a 12,000 erotic short romance. The lessons explore how I worked through each step of the writing process, all the way from brainstorming the book, to creating the characters, to plotting and writing it -- all the way through revisions.  Materials will include the planning tools I've created  to plan and plot my books.

Brainstorm to Revision: Writing Short Erotic Paranormal Romances

Lesson 2: Brainstorming the Initial Idea

By Angela Knight

Note: I wrote these lessons a few years ago as I was in the process of working on “Chain of Kisses,” out now. As the lessons progress, you’ll see that my initial ideas changed radically as I developed the story. Often I have a plot in mind, only to realize that it doesn’t work. Then I have to go back and fix the plot holes. That’s just part of the process of writing.

As I became an experienced novelist, it became apparent to me that planning a story in detail saves time because you don’t have to backtrack.

It may seem that the pre-planning is a waste of time, and you should just start writing. But if you end up throwing away whole chapters because you didn’t think it through, you’ve actually wasted time.

When I’m doing something for Changeling or one of the other paranormal e-pub, the first question I ask myself is, “What would be fun (and erotic) to write?”

I already know this piece needs to be pretty short – 50 pages. (Note: at the time I was under contract with Berkley, and my editor wouldn’t have liked it if I did a paranormal novel for anyone else.) Plus, I need to slide this in before starting my novel. If I do ten pages a day, I can have it finished in five days. (I’ve done this recently, so I know it’s possible.)                      

My Mageverse novels are a bit grueling, so for this short story, I want to do something fun, where I can cut loose and have a good time.

If we’re talking 50 pages, I need a publisher that specializes in short and hot.  Changeling Press fits the bill, so I’ll go take a look at their submission guidelines, here:  http://www.changelingpress.com/submissions.php

According to the guidelines, they want: “Paranormal, Dark Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Futuristic, BDSM, and Action/Adventure romantic love stories. All submissions must be targeted for at least one of these genres.

What's a Love Story? While there should be both highly erotic and romantic elements to the book, relationships and endings should be plot driven. We don't demand your characters trot off to get married at the end of the book, though we do ask for a HEA (Happy Ever After) or, in the case of serials, a HFN (Happy For Now).

Please keep in mind, we've only got one heat level. Over-the-top hot! We can handle anything you send us as long as it meets our guidelines! We do not accept simultaneous submissions. We do accept multiple submissions.

Length: We accept outside submissions from 10 to 28K for single titles. Serials from unsigned authors must be submitted as a completed set.”

Does their website get a lot of reader traffic? Do they publish at sites like Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and iTunes? The more traffic a site gets, the better the paycheck is. E-mail some of their authors and see whether they like the publisher and are treated well. Check them out with Preditors and Editors to see how they’re rated, here: http://pred-ed.com/ That site has listings for both agents and editors.

Note: If you’re offered a contract, read it very carefully and make sure they don’t want to keep your pen name or something. If they do, see if you can strike the clause you don’t like; often they will. Check the details of the contract with a lawyer or agent if possible, or other writers if not. You can easily be screwed otherwise. (I have been, and it wasn’t fun.)

Remember that the lawyer who wrote the contract was working for the publisher, not you. He wrote the contract to give the publisher the advantage. You have to look out for you.

Pay particular attention to how quickly the contract says they’ll publish the book, when, and what percentage of sales you get paid and how often, and what happens to your rights if they go out of business before they publish it. Also, which rights do they want? Those details are the kind of thing that can bite you on the ass, so you need to be careful.

I’ve been writing for Changeling for many years, so I’m comfortable with them. They’re not going to go out of business, and I trust the publisher not to screw me.

Now that we know what market we’re targeting, let’s start brainstorming the book. I like to take a big whiteboard on an easel and just start writing down whatever comes to me, without criticizing the ideas, just letting them come. You can also brainstorm with Post-it notes on corkboard, or software on your computer, or a spiral notebook.  Hell, cocktail napkins. Whatever works.

In my case, I find that writing my ideas on the whiteboard often triggers other ideas, and soon I’m zooming right along. There’s something about those big words and my handy eraser that frees me to play with ideas.

I know I want to do a captor/captive story. I haven’t done one of those in a while, and they’re always fun. The bondage thing Changeling wants is built right in to a C/c, and if you add a big, sexy hero, you’ve got all you need to get my motor running. 

That last bit is really crucial to writing an erotic story. You can’t write something that doesn’t turn you on. For example, I’d never try to do a ponygirl story. Women playing at being horses just doesn’t do a damned thing for me. Not that there’s anything wrong with that -- it just doesn’t hit my buttons.

You need to identify what’s really hot to you, because that’s what you’re going to write best.

You also need to be honest with yourself about whether you can write erotic romance. Some people just don’t want to reveal their deepest sexual desires to utter freaking strangers. Like me telling this list I like bondage. Hey, Angela Knight is KINKY!  (Like you didn’t know that just from reading Jane’s Warlord.)

If writing hot sex makes you squirm and imagine the reaction of your preacher, priest or rabbi, don’t do it. You won’t be able to pull it off. You’ll be happier writing more traditional romances, and you’ll do it more effectively and believably.

Once you have the basic subgenre and conflicts, start with the obvious questions. WHY is she a captive? Why would a hero TAKE her captive? He’s got to have a good, heroic reason, or he’s not going to be sympathetic. And if he’s not sympathetic, the story won’t work. In 50 pages, you don’t have a lot of time to set up the characters. They’ve got to be instantly likeable as well as hot. You don’t have time to do a big growth arc from asshole to good guy. That might work in a novel, but not in 12,000 words.

Sometimes this stuff doesn’t come in a logical progression. As you brainstorm, you may see connections and come up with ways to strengthen the conflicts. Then you’ll have to go back and work those into the plot.

This is what I wrote down as I brainstormed the book last week. The italics are my commentary for this lesson.

Why is she a captive?

Hostage against someone’s behavior?

War prize? He won and demanded her as his payment for not destroying her people?

Why HER? Maybe she is an enemy general/princess.

He is from a culture where men and women take sexual captives and practice dominance. (Note that it’s not just MEN practicing dominance. I wouldn’t want to live in a completely male dominated society, because it would drive me nuts. I just want to play submissive games in the bedroom, so I need to set up a more-or-less believable reason for the hero and heroine to do that. This is, after all, fantasy.)

As the story opens, she is bound and waiting for him to approach. She is aroused but pissed. (I can really FEEL the potential in that scene. Imagine being all tied up as a big, sexy guy strides across the bedroom, his schlong leading the way…. YUM!)

Is this TMI?  Ah, deal with it.

Futuristic.  I like writing futuristics for Changeling, because Berkley limits me to straight contemporary paranormal. When I get to play, I want to do something different. Besides, when you’re doing something like bondage, which has so many explosive political implications, you’re better off setting the story on another planet. Then you can just enjoy the fantasy without worrying about your NOW membership.

He is hyper masculine. His people are very aggressive. They want mates who have proven their intelligence and skill in battle. He became fascinated by her when he fought her, which is why he decided to go after her.

How did he fight her? Hand to hand wouldn’t work; he would have kicked her ass, unless she’s got super powers. He’s a big guy, and he knows how to fight.

Maybe she’s a ship’s captain, and their ships battled in space. Female Captain Kirk type, swashbuckling, has had a string of lovers. (I don’t like virgin heroines when I’m writing a guy that dominant. A meek little virgin just wouldn’t be a proper opponent for him. They must be equals, at least mentally, for a romantic conflict to work. Otherwise he just runs all over her, which means he’ll come off as a bully. A romance between a bully and a rag doll is just no damned fun at all.)

Thing is, I have already done a captor/captive with two ship’s captains before. (“Roarke’s Prisoner” in Secrets 2 for Red Sage, which was my very first published romance.) So I have to find a way to give it a twist.

Maybe they’re royalty. She’s the youngest daughter of the empress on a matriarchal planet. He’s the king of a neighboring empire. At one time, they were engaged, but she called it off because she was unnerved by her strong reaction to his dominance. He was aware of her reaction, and swore to have her anyway. She threatened to leave the empire and become a pirate if they forced her to wed him.

Ehhhh. Not sure that works. He sounds like an asshole, and she’s no better.

Continuing to brainstorm…

They have known each other since childhood, when they visited one another’s palaces during various events. As a child, she had a crush on him. He was older, handsome, dashing. They were engaged when she was two and he was fifteen – one of those royal treaty things. (When you’re doing a story this short, it’s a good idea for the characters to be in love to start with. It’s very hard to get strangers to love in 12,000 words. Giving them a romantic past solves the problem. The story’s conflict is how they overcome whatever has been keeping them apart all these years.)

At 17, he went into his empire’s military, where he got a reputation as a fierce warrior while fighting off an attempted invasion by reptilian invaders.

When she was 17 and he was 30, they were supposed to get married. But she found him so intimidating and dominant, she broke it off and ran. The result caused a rift between their empires. Ten years have gone by. He is now 40 and she’s 27. She’s a mercenary ship’s captain. (I do a lot of mercs, because it’s a good way to involve a hero/heroine in someone else’s war.)

He attacked her ship and defeated her in combat. He then demanded her surrender in return for the safety of her ship’s crew. Under the treaty between their people, he feels he’s still entitled to have her.

Ehhhh. I’m Not Happy. He’s still an asshole, and I don’t like the idea of marrying a 30-year-old to a kid. He ought to understand why someone that young would get unnerved and run, given the kind of Alpha Male he is. What would give him a good reason to take her sexual captive ten years later?

When she was five and he was fifteen (making her older and him younger so the age difference is reduced), her mother, the planetary empress, engaged the heroine to the hero, who is the son of the emperor of a neighboring planet. The mother’s planet was being menaced by an alien race of reptilian warriors who were on the verge of invading and killing everybody. The treaty gave her planet protection against the invaders; the hero’s father, the emperor, declared war on the lizards and drove them back out of his empire. The hero went to war and fought the aliens. He became a war hero and conquered several planets during the next twelve years.

Now it’s a little more understandable. A lot of his people (maybe his best friend?) died protecting hers over that treaty, and she spat on it by chickening out and running away. No wonder he’s pissed. But now she’s the asshole; I have to work on that.

When it’s time for her to get married to him when she’s 17, (which makes him 27, which sounds a little better), her sister, the heiress to the throne, tells the heroine the elder sister wants him. The sister is a bit older and a little slutty. The hero does something (I have to figure out what; maybe the heroine saw him having really dominant sex with someone. Her sister? No, that would be kinda asshole on his part. Somebody else. He doesn’t know she saw them.)

This incident freaked her out. She ran, rationalizing that her sister would marry him and everybody would be happy. But he wanted nothing to do with the sister; he wanted HER. The treaty was salvaged when the sister married his younger brother, but it was a great scandal, and the hero was PISSED.

The heroine assumed a false identity as a spacer, then later became a mercenary captain. He has been hunting her ever since; it’s a matter of honor now.  Too many warriors died for her world and SHE OWES HIM, DAMMIT.

I’m still not happy about her. Running away was cowardly.

The fact that she ran away from him has been eating at her for years. In retrospect, she bitterly wishes she’d married him as she was supposed to. Her cowardice almost resulted in the destruction of her people. Besides, he’s been a subject of her secret fantasies for years. So when he captures her, she’s secretly delighted, though she’s also outraged by his gall and a little frightened about what he intends to do.

Now this is a little more understandable. Most of us have done something when we were kids that we regret, so I think readers will be more inclined to cut her some slack. This is also why I need to keep the age difference. If she were 20 when they were first supposed to marry, it wouldn’t work at all.

So that’s my initial process. I come up with a rough idea, and then start brainstorming reasons for the characters’ actions that the reader can understand and sympathize with. I also rough in the idea for the paranormal world, but not in great detail. I figure out just enough to go on to the next step.

Now I need to nail down the characterization for the hero and heroine before I can brainstorm the plot. So the next lesson will be on creating the hero.

Any questions?

Oh, and I’ll do a crit for the first two people to submit rough plot ideas. First come, first served. 

Angela Knight

Thanks for reading. I hope you'll join me!

                                                                                                                       

My newest ebook, Frosty the Snow Dom, is out today!

I'm happy to announce my newest ebook, Frosty the Snow Dom, is in onlines stores now, just in time for Christmas!

Steaming up the ice..
When ice artist Judith Dane is hired to create a kinky version of Michelangelo's David, she thinks the ice sculpture is just another Christmas party centerpiece. But when she delivers the work she's nicknamed "Frosty the Snow Dom" to the BDSM club Valhalla, the party turns out to be a lot stranger than she expects.
When Frosty comes to life just like a certain snowman, she discovers just how hot ice can be. But what happens when the spell breaks?

Amazon  Barnes and Noble  Kobo  iTunes! Changeling

He cupped her face again, his palm warm and rough. He certainly didn’t feel like a block of ice. “I would never have left you to suffer. You have suffered enough.”

Her brows rose. “What makes you say that?” She felt unmoored, like a balloon hovering in a cloudless sky, caught between the reality she knew and blue infinity.

He shrugged. “I feel the pain in you.”

“But why do you care?”

“Why does anyone? Not to care is to be alone, and I have been alone too long as it is.” Tor smiled, and she was helpless to look away from the warmth in his eyes. “I think you’ve been alone long enough, too.”

Judith caught her breath, gazing up at him, taking in all the shades of blue in his irises -- cerulean, sapphire, cobalt -- the elegant line of cheekbone and jaw, the seductive curve of his lips. “Yeah.” She swallowed, trying to clear the rasp from her voice. “I have been alone too long.”

“Then perhaps we could be together instead.” He leaned down slowly, as if giving her plenty of time to back away from the kiss he so obviously intended.

Yet she had no desire to retreat from the pressure of his lips. Which made no sense, considering that she’d just tried to lay him open with that damned whip.

His lips brushed hers, a soft velvet stroke. Asking her to open. So she did. His tongue slipped into her mouth in a gentle stroke, careful not to invade.

Too careful. Too polite.

She wanted more. Her body ached with a fierce craving for all that hot bare muscle, the grip of his big hands, the grind of his mouth and his cock.

Jesus Christ, I don’t even know him. And what she did know was flatly unbelievable. Nobody could do what he’d just done -- heal a five-inch wound with a stroke of his fingers in the space of a heartbeat, when it should’ve taken weeks. Then clean the blood away with a flick of his fingers.

None of this was possible. She must be trapped in a drug-induced dream. That was really the only logical explanation.

Trouble was, she found she didn’t believe the only logical explanation. No matter how irrational it was, everything in her insisted this was utterly real.

Tor was magic. Alfar. Elf. And she wanted him. His kiss, his hands, the hard length of him. Craved him as if he were something she’d sought for a very long time, now finally within reach.

Heat and desperation seemed to explode in the pit of her belly, and she surged against him, reaching up to thread her fingers through the short white silk of his hair and curl her hands into fists. He surged to his feet, dragging her up with him, snatching her close.

Still kissing her, Tor growled against her mouth, soft and fierce, one hand gripping her ass, the other reaching up to tangle in her hair as she’d grabbed his. Her scalp stung with the ferocity of his hold, but she didn’t care.

Hell, she loved it.

Opening her mouth wide, she coiled her tongue around his in a frantic dance. He stepped into her, pulling her so tight she could feel every muscle and bone of that big body against her. He feels almost as hard as he was when he was ice. For a moment the sheer irrationality of the thought jolted her, almost broke the spell of frantic lust surging in her blood.

But then he cupped her cheek, his palm rough with calluses, warm with body heat. It wasn’t the hand of an ice sculpture or a delusion. It was a man’s hand, as much flesh and blood as her own aching body.

Tor drew back, his lips peeling away from hers as if with an effort. His eyes met hers, wide and wild and ice blue. “I have needed you. I have needed you so long.”

Then he was kissing her again, fierce, biting kisses, teeth scraping, tongue thrusting. Her hands tightened in his hair, and she lifted one thigh to coil her calf around his ass, desperate to press her sex against the erection she could feel hot and hard inside those leather pants. Craving the rough friction, she ground against him.

With a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, he hooked both hands under her ass and lifted her off her feet. Knowing what he wanted, Judith wound her other leg around him. They both moaned in pleasure at the feel of her sex against his, even separated by layers of fabric and leather. “I want you naked,” she gasped against his mouth.

“Yes,” he rumbled, his voice even deeper than it had been a moment before. His fingers flicked, and sparks poured out, swirling around their bodies in a tingling wave. Her nipples hardened even more, and she whimpered at the sensation of crisp chest hair teasing the tips.

Blinking, Judith looked down. They were indeed naked. She had no idea how, and did not care.

Steaming up the Ice: An Excerpt of FROSTY THE SNOW DOM

Dear Reader – I’ve been busy writing new goodies just in time for Christmas! I’m delighted to announce my newest erotic short story, Frosty the Snow Dom, releasing Nov. 24 from Changeling Press, and Dec. 1 from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and iTunes.

Steaming up the ice...

When Judith's hired to create a kinky ice sculpture, the party turns out stranger than she expects.

When ice artist Judith Dane is hired to create a kinky version of Michelangelo's David, she thinks the ice sculpture is just another Christmas party centerpiece. But when she delivers the work she's nicknamed "Frosty the Snow Dom" to the BDSM club Valhalla, the party turns out to be a lot stranger than she expects.

When Frosty comes to life just like a certain snowman, she discovers just how hot ice can be. But what happens when the spell breaks?

Here’s an excerpt as Judith meets her own kinky creation.

***

Anrid caught Judith’s hand, pulling her in so close she felt the woman’s silk skirt brush her legs. Lifting her regal chin, the hostess began to speak in that foreign language again, pausing to let the crowd answer in a kind of call and response that reminded Judith of church services back in Texas. Though no church she’d ever attended had conducted services in the nude…

I wish I knew what they were saying. A shiver of unease teased the length of her spine even as she told herself she was being paranoid.

At a word from Anrid, the crowd joined hands and began to dance in a circle around them. They started to sing, the women’s voices rose impossibly pure and high over the deep, darker tones of the men’s. Which was when things began to get really weird.

Releasing Judith’s hand, Anrid gestured.

Frosty, all three hundred pounds of him, rose in the air and floated forward as if the ice had turned into a soap bubble.

Judith’s jaw dropped. Blinking, she looked up, checking the ceiling for wires. How the hell…

Anrid caught up the necklace that hung around her slender throat, lifting the chain off over her head. As she held it high, the thumb-length sapphire caught the light. She gestured, and sparks wound around the stone like fireflies as she released the stone. Instead of falling to the ground, the necklace floated over to Frosty as if swept along by the wave of light. The sparks dissipated, spilling the chain over the sculpture’s head, sapphire rapping his carved pectorals.

Judith peered around, but she still saw no sign of any supports, wires or mirrors, and no place to attach them if there had been. That was one hell of a trick. She’d wonder if somebody had slipped her a dose of LSD, except, being at work, she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything.

Anrid began to sing, the pure, clear notes rising over the chorus of ethereal voices. As the song spiraled to a crescendo, she flung out both hands in a wild, swirling gesture.

Frosty exploded.

A wave of fine white powder blasted out from him, stinging Judith’s face as she recoiled, shocked, blinded. With a yelp of alarm, she started knuckling at her eyes, trying to clear her stinging vision. When she finally managed to blink away the tears, she realized Anrid and the crowd had vanished. The buffet table and assorted BDSM gear was still there, but Judith was alone.

Except for one man.

He stood on the floor below the spot where Frosty had floated, his back to her, so all she could see was that he was tall and broad shouldered. When he turned, her brows flew up. Judith had seen a lot of handsome men tonight, but he was outstanding even in that company. There was something oddly familiar about him, something she recognized in the angle of his broad cheekbones and cleft chin, the shape of his deep-set eyes, the contours of his erotic mouth.

Unlike most of the men she’d seen at the party, his curling white hair was cropped close, revealing the elegant points of his ears. He wore only tight leather pants and riding boots shined to a mirrored gleam. Why does he look so familiar?

Then realization dawned. “Oh shit. You’re Frosty!”

His lips twitched in a smile. “Actually, my name is Tor.”

Judith stared at him, feeling the ground drop out from under her feet. “That’s… This isn’t possible. This is some kind of scam.” She backed away as her head began to buzz like a high-tension wire. Her voice rose. “How did you do this? Did you gas me with something?”

He watched her calmly, making no attempt to follow her. “Up until sixty seconds ago, I was a block of ice.”

“Bullshit! Blocks of ice don’t turn into people!”

He shrugged, an elegant gesture of broad bare shoulders. “And yet, here I am.”

“And where did everybody else go?” She dared take her eyes off him to scan the room, her heart pounding so hard, she could hear its beat in her eardrums. The room was still empty except for bondage gear furnishings surrounded by a faux winter wonderland. She should’ve known this was all too fucking weird to be true. “They were here a minute ago, but now they’re gone. Did you knock me out or something?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. You’re the one claiming to be a block of … Frosty.” She added a sneer to that last word.

He eyed her for a long moment, his gaze steady. “Judith, you’re in no danger from me. I would never hurt you. I could never hurt you.”

“Yeah, right.” She’d had enough of this. Whirling, Judith bolted toward the double fire doors, wanting only to get the hell out of here until whatever they’d drugged her with wore off. She stiffed-armed the doors -- and almost slammed into them face-first when they didn’t open.

With a strangled scream of rage and terror, she drew back and hit them again, trying fruitlessly to force them open. They didn’t even budge. Furious, Judith banged her fists against the metal. “Let me out! Help! I’ve been kidnapped!”

“Nobody can hear you, Judith. Anrid’s magic has seen to that. The doors won’t open until the spell is broken. Or until dawn, if you refuse to help me.”

She whirled. He stood exactly where she’d left him. But as she took a closer look, she realized his big body was tense, as if he was keeping his distance with an effort. Pain tightened the line of his mouth, and his brows were drawn inward, as if he didn’t like what was happening.

Yeah, well, I’m not exactly thrilled myself. Judith sidled away from the door, trying to keep an eye on him while simultaneously scanning for another exit, a weapon, something. Anything. Keep him talking, Judith. Maybe you can take him off guard and get away.

He’d said something about a spell. He must really think she was a moron, though damned if she could tell how they’d pulled this off. Had to be a hallucination. I must be passed out underneath the buffet table right now.

And yet… it all seemed so real. Despite the illogic of the situation, Judith could feel the fabric of her shirt rubbing against her breasts as she breathed, the give of her rubber soles as her weight shifted. The air smelled of pine, roasted meat, and honey, blended with a sharp tang that reminded her of the aftermath of a lightning strike.

But the man watching her with such a troubled expression looked exactly like the ice sculpture she’d spent the last two days creating. Just as that sculpture, in turn, had looked like the man she’d been dreaming about for so many years.

“You mentioned a spell.” Her voice rasped. “What kind of spell?” Oh, come on, Judith, you don’t really believe this shit? And yet even as her rationality sneered, a small voice from her hindbrain insisted that this was real. Inexplicable and terrifying, but real.

He didn’t even hesitate. “The spell to let me live again.”

“You look alive to me.”

“For the moment.”

She glanced around again, her gaze falling on one of the nearby trees. Like the others, assorted sex toys hung from the branches like kinky decorations: handcuffs, a riding crop, toys that did God knew what…

And a bullwhip.

“Planning on dropping dead?” Judith demanded, trying to distract him as she edged closer to the tree.

“I’d really rather not, but that’s up to you.”

That jolted her out of her preoccupation with the tree and the potential weapon dangling from its branches. “Me? What do I have to do with anything?”

“You’re the key to my freedom… if you’re willing to help.” He moved toward her, his blue gaze steady, his steps slow, careful. Crap, he’s a good head taller than me, and he’s got the muscle to match. If Frosty wanted to, he could hurt her badly, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. She swallowed and stepped underneath the tree, trying not to be too obvious about her plan to get her hands on that whip. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Nothing you don’t want to.”

“Which doesn’t answer the question.”

“I have been bound in a spell for more than a thousand years.” He sounded so cool, so rational, despite the utter impossibility of the words.

Oh, please. To buy time, she asked, “How did that happen?”

For a heartbeat, his eyes closed and a spasm of grief flashed over his face, pain so stark it jolted her from her angry preoccupation. “I lost the only reason my heart had to beat.”

And for a moment, she found herself believing him, though nothing about the situation was believable. “Was Anrid responsible?”

“She cast the spell, but she was not the reason I asked for oblivion. That was someone else.” One corner of his lip lifted, and his eyes glittered with such rage she froze in instinctive fear. “I assure you, I made him pay for his crime. Unfortunately, revenge is no consolation when all else is ashes. Once he was dead, there was nothing left to pump my blood. I longed for death, but Anrid would not permit that. She bound my spirit into her sapphire and let me sleep for a hundred centuries.”

That declaration should have sounded melodramatic to her twenty-first century ears. It didn’t. There was something about him, something ancient and dark, that made the archaic words ring true. Especially considering the desolation in his eyes.

But as she stared at him, Judith realized there was more to his believability than that. A sense of power cloaked him, intense enough to lift the hair on her arms.

He’s not human. No matter what he looked like, he was something more than a man. She had no idea why she was so convinced of that, but her every instinct told her it was true.

This isn’t a con, sleight-of-hand or trickery. This is real.

***

Frosty the Snow Dom is on sale for preorder here: Pre-Order Now at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and iTunes!

Live at ChangelingPress.com Friday 11/24/17
Live at Amazon.com, BN.com, Kobo, and iTunes 12/01/17
All New Releases 15% off at ChangelingPress.com. 2nd Edition and Box Sets 20% off

I’m also working on the sequel to Arcane Kiss, a full-length novel called Arcane Heart coming in March. And of course, Master of Magic and Master of Seduction are also available in ebook from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple and Kobo.