Friday, October 30, 2015

Two guys have turned my world upside down for months. Lemme tell you about them.

Many of you are already familiar with the origin of my new Masters Saga, the story about a young woman and the escort she hires to fulfill every last naughty desire. This unconventional romance, a sort of "Pretty Woman" in reverse, started simply with a thought-provoking question from my bestie, which is also a little how my story MY IMMORTAL came to life, but we'll talk about that in a sec.

First, I need to tell you about Devlin Masters and Caz Bixby.

Many of you have already met Devlin. He's that sexy lil morsel who gets paid $400 an hour to fulfill the lascivious fantasies of those women who have the means to pay him. He was a LOT of fun to write... a blank slate if you will. Like Coralie, I could mold him into anything I wanted him to be.

Well, in the first book anyway. As it so happens, that rascal had a personality all his own, and he was determined to tell ME who he was, starting with the moment he sat down to play the piano. That's when I realized there was a lot more depth, and potential, to this gun for hire.

See, the thing is... I wrote Masters as sort of a... protest if you will. My bestie asked me if I would ever hire an escort, sort of a hypothetical question to test my boundaries about sex. The more I thought about it, the more value I saw in hiring a guy for sex.

Crazy, right? Absolutely scandalous. But I'm being completely sincere.

I found it both titillating and empowering to write a story where a man is committed to the idea of feminine pleasure, since, unfortunately, in our culture such things are usually prohibited. If a woman exhibits any kind of sexual liberation, like a man, she is regarded as a slut, one whose value diminishes the more liberties she takes.

I have a problem with this, so much so that I live my life in such a way that it is almost absolutely impossible to slut-shame me. I'm quite open about how I feel about sex. I mean, obviously, right? That's how I make my living. I seek to empower women to embrace their own sexuality without shame.

To say that I have a problem with how our society treats women and sex is putting it mildly. I could (and kind of have) written a book on most of the topics that I want to challenge, such as the whole "virgin/purity = value," myth, the "physical perfection = beauty = happiness" myth. In MASTERS, I go after female fulfillment in almost all its forms, using sex as the driving force mostly because that is where we are most discouraged from being empowered and fulfilled.

I'm not writing sex just to write sex. I never do. Ever. There's a point. There's a reason. And the reason in MASTERS is one of empowerment, even when it would seem that my character is powerless. Sometimes you have to learn how much you will bend to know where all those boundaries are. These are important to learn, which is why sexual exploration is such a vital part of the human experience - for both sexes.

Yet sadly, particularly in heterosexual sex, that exploration is often discouraged if you're female.

The statistics say only 40% of women in reach orgasm as the result of casual, heterosexual hookups, as compared to the 75% or higher that men and lesbian women average. I talked a bit about it on Facebook yesterday, where I posted a link about the sexual myths that we need to stop teaching our young girls, chief among them is that when it comes to sex, women are here solely for the pleasure of men. Our pleasure is an afterthought, because we don't care about it as much.

Needless to say, the Masters saga turned into a tale of sexual awakening that dares to defy convention AND permission. And there are just no men on this planet more suited to teach this lesson than Devlin Masters and Caz Bixby.

You haven't met Caz yet, he's in Book Two, MASTERS FOR LIFE, available NOW.

This is not your traditional GV triangle. In fact, I really didn't know what Caz had up his sleeve when he sauntered onto the scene in Book Two. He's arrogant. He's an unapologetic douche bag. He's openly opportunistic. He doesn't promise wine and roses, just dirty sex and lots of it. In the beginning, it isn't even sexual desire that puts Coralie on his radar. Theirs is a painfully honest relationship from the jump.

Well, as painfully honest as one can be when one is an unapologetic, cocky, opportunistic douche bag.

As Coralie peels back the layers on Devlin, Caz is right there to cast doubt on every romantic dream that Dev tries to make come true for her. He's the one who puts a time limit on her happiness, predicting that everything she wants will fall apart before the book's end.

Whether he's right or whether he's wrong... you'll either have to read the book or have someone who did spoil it for you. I shan't.

What I can tell you is that the book was a painful turn for me in many ways, kind of forcing me out of my own comfort zone regarding sex, relationships, fidelity and true intimacy.

Suffice it to say, MASTERS FOR HIRE was the fairy tale. MASTERS FOR LIFE is much more brutally honest and realistic. As realistic as I get anyway. It is one of my angstiest books by a MILE.

This angst is necessary to get you to Book Three, MASTERS FOREVER, which has now been released for pre-order. There's a reason for this, which you will discover when you hit the last page of MASTERS FOR LIFE, ready to throttle me with how it ends. Honestly I have never been more nervous for a book series to publish - and I'm not just talking about Book Two. The entire thing could either propel me forward or drop me on my ass. My stakes are every bit as high as Coralie's herself.

Again, that's your only warning.

"The author has written a very powerful and angst-filled book that I honestly have never seen from her. This feels like new territory for her and I couldn't be happier. There are so many layers and so much at stake for our heroine, I'm beyond cautious as to how it will all conclude." - Amazon review from MJLovestoRead

Indeed, it is all brand new territory. I take the liberties given to me by the Erotic Romance genre all the way to the end, mostly because I really didn't have any choice. Devlin in particular kept me twisted into knots the entire duration of writing this story. Many people who don't write don't understand how these characters often take on a life of their own. They do and say stuff to surprise you on a regular basis, even when you know - ultimately - where they're going. All the little details, and a few big ones, often don't make themselves known until you've breathed a little life into them, allowing them to whisper their words into your ear and tickle your brain with all the possibilities of what could be.

Well, Devlin was indeed Devlish the whole way through. And then Caz showed up, and I was knocked about like a pinball, as dizzy and confused as Coralie herself. They tested what I believe about sex and gratification and feminine empowerment all the while trying to take it away at every turn. Yes... it's that kind of story. Coralie has to fight for that very thing she wanted from page one of Book One: to live life on her terms.

Dev and Caz test how far she's willing to go to get it, which is further than I personally have ever gone with my heroines ... EVER.

Why am I telling you this? Well, because I feel I can. We've gone through a lot together, from the angsty, Kindle-breaking GROUPIE saga, to the bittersweet and emotional FULLERTON FAMILY SAGA. I feel like you'll understand where I'm coming from. Or, you'll need to, the minute you finish Book Two. Through it all, we peel back the colorful, blinding layers of Oz that Dev painted in Book One, to realize that things aren't quite as they appeared to be. You're going to need a friend for this, someone who understands the pain and disappointment you're going to feel.

Basically you're going to need a hug. Every bit as much as I do.

Where these guys came from, I don't even know. But what they had to teach me was eye-opening.

A bold passage from Book Two:


I had made love with several men before him, but none had ever been able to make me come. They inserted Tab A into Slot B and if that was enough to get me there, great. If not, well that’s just how it worked for women. They accepted it. I accepted it.

Not Devlin. I came every single time we had sex. Every. Single. Time. Not just once or twice or randomly like a fluke. It wasn’t some mystery. It was biology. No one would ever think to touch every place on a man’s body but his penis and expect him to “get there.” Devlin knew just where to touch, just how to touch, and what the true objective for partnered sexual contact truly meant. The job simply wasn’t done until I reached the finish line, too.

He taught me to reach it. Expect it. Demand it. Just like a man. And now that I knew that was possible, I knew I’d never go back to settling again.


Not to be outdone, here's some plain talk from Caz.


“You know, you’re not half bad when you behave like a human being. Why do you have to be such a jerk, Caz?”

He huffed and puffed with exertion. “I have a reputation to maintain,” he replied with that shit-eating grin I loathed.

“Being an asshole work that well for you?”

He replaced the weights and sat up to look at me. “Look around you, CC. You tell me.” He grabbed my water bottle from my hand and unscrewed the cap, then guzzled it while his eyes studied my face. He handed it back to me with a grin, as if he knew what kind of intimate liberties he had just taken.

I shook my head. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Nope,” he announced cheerfully. “Why should I? The way I figure it, we’re all hedonists deep down. We all constantly think about the stuff we’re not supposed to, those things you’d never admit in polite company. But we all have those moments when we pass a stranger on the street and instantly wonder what it would be like to fuck them. We all have those moments where we talk to someone, and suddenly we fixate on their lips, imaging what it would look like on our bodies, or taste like against our mouth. We’ve all had that moment when we wanted to just have fun without consequences, like fucking a stranger you don’t even know, in every raunchy way you could imagine. So why not just do it? Take no prisoners. Make no apologies.”

I didn’t say anything, so he went on. “Sure there are people who, when they think these thoughts, feel like they’re some kind of weirdo. An oddball. A deviant. And a few are. But most of us are just normal human beings, hardwired to enjoy sex for pleasure. We’re supposed to want it. We’re supposed to love it. The problems only arise when we’re told we shouldn’t want it, or that we shouldn’t have it. That there’s something wrong with us if we love it the way that we do. It’s everywhere all the time, yet our society wants to pretend like it doesn’t exist. That it’s improper, or obscene. It’s all bullshit, CC. All this perceived purity? I’ve seen the truth every time someone paid me to fuck them. And the things they want to do,” he crowed with a chuckle. “We’re not pure at all. We just lump lust behind other, more obscene sins like wrath, gluttony, envy or greed, simply because that helps us sleep at night. Like we can forget we’re all animals deep down, happiest when we’re allowed to roar. Look at what happened to you. You can’t honestly tell me that you were happier when you were following all those bogus rules of propriety.”

I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. “No.”

“There you go. If there’s anything I teach you in these next few months, I hope it’s that. Because that means so much more than how much you weigh or how you look. Some of the best lays of my life have been ugly women who just knew how to take what they wanted.”

I scowled at him. “Way to ruin a moment, Caz. Why do you have to be such a pig?”

He shrugged. “Just being honest, pussycat. But I can see how you might not be used to that.”


So... yeah. That's Caz. Like I said, he's a cocky, unapologetic jerk. It was truly weird having him in my head for months on end. It only helped somewhat that I could use this sexy guy as the inspiration...

But I added equal parts Brian Kinney from Queer as Folks... so - you get what you get.

Are you scared yet?

You should be.

We're going down the rabbit hole with Coralie. There's a lot of symbolism in play to subtly (and not so subtly) wedge Coralie out of that restrictive "Good Girl" archetype where she doesn't belong. NONE of us do, not really, not in the way society has defined it at least. If you're reading naughty books about sex, you've likely been, at the very least, teased about it.

And if I accomplish nothing more than this idea we can be both good and feminine without being confined to being a Good Girl (as in Good Girls Don't) with this series, then that will be a huge win for me, and well worth the time I spent with two of the most frustrating male characters my muse has ever introduced me to.

Frustrating, because I couldn't stay away from them... following wherever they led, even dark places unknown.

I hope at the end of it all, you can regard them as the teachers that they were to me, even when they had a lot to learn themselves.

That's what Book Three is for...

Until then, it's time to embrace a little darkness.

If you're in the mood for something even darker, nay, scary this Halloween weekend, MY IMMORTAL is available for FREE through the 31st. How do you find love when you're a reincarnated vampire?

You don't. It finds you...

Happy Halloween everybody!

Saturday, October 17, 2015

MASTERS FOR LIFE. The water is about to boil... **This is your only warning.**

Anyone who has read my series books knows that I don't play around with Book Two. I'm kinda always just getting started with Book Two. Book Two is the ugliest of the trilogy because my three-book storytelling works a lot like a three-act play.

For those not familiar with the traditional three-act structure, it works kinda like this:

ACT I (Setup):

Introduce the characters and the world they inhabit. Give them clearly defined goals that will start them on their journey out of their comfort zone. Introduce the obstacles (including people, including themselves) that stand in the way of reaching those goals, underscoring how they will need to grow/change in order to get what they want.

In the case of WIZARD OF OZ, this was the B&W part of the story, pre-tornado, when all Dorothy wanted was to go somewhere else.

ACT II (Confrontation):

Release the monsters one at a time that prohibit your hero/heroine from getting what they want most. Complications = conflict, which motivates our character into action and keeps the story moving. Keep raising the stakes to the point where the protagonist can't go back to the way he or she was before. They are solidly on this new path, navigating this new world with all the new skills that they learn along the way, usually ending on a "point of no return," that demands the character has to take drastic action to achieve his or her goal.

For Dorothy, her fish-out-of-water story began the minute she got what she wanted - to be "over the rainbow." She stepped out into Oz and was given a brand new goal: To get back home. Along the way she met a slew of new friends in adventures that bring her to her "point of no return;" in order to return home, she has to kill the Wicked Witch.

ACT III (Resolution):

Protagonist faces off against antagonistic forces (whether people or events) in the ultimate showdown (i.e., climax) of the story. Whether the hero/heroine gets what he or she wants, this protagonist will ultimately get what he or she needs, fulfilled by the journey itself.

Flying monkeys. Wicked Witch. "I'm melting," "What a world," yadda yadda yadda. Dorothy does what she is supposed to do, and very nearly gets stuck in Oz with her new friends because as it turns out... that Wiz wasn't that much of a Wiz at all. But because of all she has learned, she is bestowed one final magic spell... that answers one last lingering question: will Dorothy ever make it home?

This is the natural flow of a story, whether a single plot told in one story, or an arc told over multiple installments. In fact, if you do write more than one book in a series, you have to pull off this three-act structure with every single book itself, with clearly defined goals (and conflict) for each and every one. This is what readers expect of you, even if they aren't aware of the specifics. And even if they can't say why, they'll definitely know when you've failed.

Every single story ever told answers certain questions in order of where they might prove most compelling. WHO are these people and WHY should I care? WHAT stands in their way? HOW do they overcome? WHEN those questions, and any new ones introduced along the way, are answered ultimately drives the story, demanding to know WHERE the payoff might be.

In stories executed well, it's the very next page after the one you're reading. This keeps you reading, even when you're forced every bit as much out of your comfort zone as the protagonist themselves.

The reader/audience, much like the protagonist, is basically a frog in a pot of water. We coax you into the pot gently, beguiling - seducing - you into the story, making you feel comfortable and safe until we start to turn up the heat in Act II. By Act III, the water is boiling and - if we're successful in how we have constructed our stories - you won't be able to hop out until you see how it all ends, despite how uncomfortable you are.

Act II is where you're going to get uncomfortable, like most confrontation proves to be. In fact, just by your emotional reaction alone, you can easily pinpoint where Act II begins (and climaxes) simply by your level of discomfort. Where did the characters piss you off? Where did they break your heart? This is where your subconscious realized that the water had started to boil and you had to adjust your *own* expectations accordingly.

You didn't really think it was just the protagonist that had to change, did you?

Act II forces every single one of us to confront our comfort zones. That is its whole purpose for being, and its importance cannot be overstated. There's a reason that a lot of writers are intimidated by Act II, because as the creator, our first instinct is to protect ourselves, our characters and even you, the reader. We're afraid to go too far, even when our stories demand it. We don't want to piss anyone off. We don't want to hurt anyone. Most of us are really nice people deep down. So many writers back off from this challenge, myself included. We envision that line of what we can tolerate and dance right up to it, generally only sticking a toe (or toenail) across it and considering it a "win" when we do. Because fiction = conflict, our stories often suffer because of our timidity. The creation of art is a spiritually violent act, much like giving birth. If it doesn't hurt us, challenge us, change us, motivate US to keep moving forward, then it's never going to work for any of you.

The masters of the craft know this and wield this important storytelling weapon accordingly.

Since I take my craft very seriously I take this responsibility very seriously, especially the more seasoned I get as a writer. I trust you more. I trust me more. I trust my stories more. As a result, Book Two is usually my challenge to take us *all* past our comfort zones for the sake of a story well told. And if you are upset, if you're mad, if you're heartbroken over these fictional characters and crazy stories that started out as mere thoughts and ideas in my fevered brain... that's a story well told. You may give me a one-star rating because you hated my characters and what they did to each other, or what I did to them, but what is hate if not another emotion? I made you feel something - strongly - so I consider this a win. In fact the stronger you feel, the more successful I was at my job. I made you care about what used to be a blank page, as if these things, people and places were real. If my characters zigged when you thought they should have zagged, and you form very strong opinions on it as a result, based on *nothing* more than the way I arrange letters on a screen - thinking, feeling, debating, worrying, anxious about, curious over, heartsick because of kernels of thought born in pure imagination alone -


Seriously. It's magic. As a reader myself, I love when I can feel something that powerful, especially when all I really wanted was to be entertained. Make me cry, make me angry, make me feel; I'll love you a hundred times more because of it. These are words on a page, and they're making me feel something? How fucking incredible is that?? This is why I have no problem turning up the heat just so that *I* can get the most out of my story. I need to feel it. I need to be consumed by it. Like Garth says, "Life is not tried it's just merely survived if you're standing outside the fire." I jump in both feet.

Make it burn, leave a scar, and people will remember you forever.

This is why my FULLERTON FAMILY SAGA, easily the series with the most #feelz of any of my books, is my most beloved. It sold the most. It's been reviewed the most. And of all the reader feedback, it's the one where I've heard the most amazing stories of connection between the reader, the writer and the characters.

*****5- Heartsick, Broken and Pissed off -Stars***** "Why?! That same question has been on repeat in my head over and over and over since I finished this book. Why?! Ginger, WHY?! I waited a full day after finishing the book before even attempting to write up this review and I'm still not sure how I'm gonna get through it without completely losing my shit. I should have know, I did know, that there was a real good chance this book was going to destroy me-between the blurbs leading up to this final installment and that terrifying little sneak peak at the end of Entangled....I wasn't wrong to be worried, typing this up days later and I'm still in an emotional tailspin. If I could hunt down Ms. Ginger Voight I would hug her, beat her with my pitchfork, then cry on her shoulder. I can't remember the last time a book has affected me like this, so I guess no matter how I feel about how it all went down at the end, there is no denying Ginger Voight is an amazing author for bring such strong emotions out of me through her pen alone." - Bookworm Betties

Because of this, I refuse to pull any punches. If you're going to hate me (or break your Kindle,) it's going to start in Book Two. Never has that been truer than with MASTERS FOR LIFE. It should come with it's own warning label, and that comes from someone who generally shuns all warning labels. A long time ago I took the stance that if anyone needed a warning label to read a book, they should steer far clear of mine. I have no problem tackling ugly topics, as fearlessly as I can muster at the time. You're either going to love me or hate me, or love to hate me, but the minute you finish Book Two, I don't consider it a success unless you absolutely, positively, undeniably need to start Book Three to see how it all resolves, even if - especially if - you're scared absolutely shitless to do it.

I take this to new extremes in MASTERS FOR LIFE. From one of my betas, upon finishing Book Two: "Oh my God it is so awesome. I can't believe how you ended it. I need number 3 like yesterday."

This, in my mind, is a slam dunk. My goal was to write a book so gripping that you HAVE to get all your friends to read it, just so you'll have someone to talk to about it. This is why I have - if you'll pardon the pun - "infected" everyone I know with The Walking Dead. I *need* someone to talk to about this story because it's so freaking good. This is why I tune into The Talking Dead every single week to work through all the feelz with C-Hard, the cast, the creators and the fans. The minute the story hurts a little bit, I'm ready to talk it out with people who understand. It's kinda the best part about it.

But let's be honest. In order to inspire that kind of passion, it's gotta hurt. Happy-go-lucky, sexysexysexy only gets you so far. What people remember is when they got smacked in the face or kicked in the gut.

Whereas MASTERS FOR HIRE was a little more fun, a little sexier, a little more romantic, MASTERS FOR LIFE turns up the heat on our little froggies, Devlin and CC, and all who might love them. (Myself included.) Two virtual strangers are trying to forge a relationship together after two idyllic weeks together, with all the baggage in their past standing in their way. For Devlin Masters, our blank slate, our chameleon, this could (and does) mean anything. A couple of new characters find their way into the story, who definitely make things more... interesting. My main goal throughout Book Two was to keep CC guessing all the way through the book. Who can she trust? Who should she believe? Can she trust herself, even, as she watches herself morph and change into someone she doesn't really know?

In other words, welcome to Oz, my friends.

If you want a story to meander through various versions of a HEA for this couple for the next two books, I ain't yer girl. That shit doesn't interest me. I don't write escapism porn as a rule. You can escape into my books, but you're generally always relieved to make it back out again. My roller coasters shake you around a little bit, and you will need a little time to recover, which I figure is what all those happier books are for, including a few of my own.

For my series books, however, you're locked in for the ride. And I don't mind flipping the switch, taking you backwards, racing you forwards, and keeping you arse over teakettle until we're through... particularly in Book Two.

I'm out to test my couples how much they want to be together, and in doing so pose the ongoing question whether or not they deserve to be together. By the time you get to the resolution of this unusual story I've spent all this time building, I want you to buy Book Three complete with a Costco pallet of tissue and wine just to get to the end. And then we can meet and you can hug me, yell at me, curse me, then hug me again and cry on my shoulder. I will have the utmost empathy for your pain, because I've already done all those things to myself.

Throughout my second edit of MASTERS FOR LIFE, I forced myself to jump way past the line of my own personal comfort. As a result, there are a couple of scenes in this book that crawl all over me like a dozen scorpions. My first impulse is to apologize... to you and to my characters... even though I know this is the way the story has to go down in order to be told well.

If you've read my books in the past, you have an idea of what's coming, and are likely scared shitless as a result (as you should be.) For many of you, it's what you love most about me. For the rest... well, consider this your one and only warning.

I'm turning up the heat. The pot is going to boil. You will curse me, and I will deserve it. In fact, I've set up a brand new discussion forum, GV CORNER, where we can share all the feels.

Welcome to the conflict and chaos of Act II, where the fairy tale I crafted in Book One begins to fray as early as the first chapter in Book Two. Settle in as I finally start to pull back the curtain a little bit on our mysterious hero, Devlin Masters.


Excerpt, Chapter One MASTERS FOR LIFE

Devlin already knew how much settling for anything pissed me the hell off. He also had appointed himself as my white knight, ensuring that I would never have to settle for anything again. He studied me for a long minute before he said, “Come on.”

I followed him from the bathroom back into the bedroom. He opened up the door to the huge walk-in closet, heading straight for the chest of drawers that sat right in the middle. On the top was a big cardboard box, where he began pulling out several pieces of clothing.

I could tell immediately that every single piece had been designed by his sister, Darcy. The way they flowed, the material she used; I could tell without even trying them on that they would fit to flatter in a way no other clothes I could find at Cabot’s could.

I didn’t have to ask him where he got them. Instead, I posed another, more curious question. “Why do you have a box full of your sister’s clothes?”

He sighed as he leaned against the drawers. “I fulfill my client’s fantasies, remember?”

I lifted up the sunny yellow top to my torso. “And it’s just a coincidence it’s in my size?”

His eyes never left mine. “No, Coralie. It’s not a coincidence.” I leaned back against the drawers as I waited for him to explain, which he did without on speck of apology. “I had Darcy send me a package of size-14 clothing within an hour of getting your first email.”

My mouth dried up instantly. “What? Why?”

He sighed as he turned back to the box to pull out more clothes. “I told you before. It’s my job to give women what they want most.”

“But how did you know that included clothes?” I persisted.

He flashed me that smirk. “All women love to feel pretty in their clothes, Coralie. You know that.”

“So… wait,” I said as my brain scrambled to compute this startling new data. “You knew who I was when I sent the email?”

He inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower. “I researched you the minute I had a first and last name,” he admitted at last. “I research everyone. It helps to start a few paces ahead. I scope out a potential client’s social media, dig up any relevant articles or information on my more notable clients. I gather all available information before I initiate contact, so I can develop a plan of attack from there.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Interesting choice of words.”

He shrugged. “Like I told you before, a lot is riding on that first date.”

I thought back to how insecure I felt when he had originally drilled me about my dress size, something he now admitted to knowing all along. “Why did you bother asking me my dress size if you already knew it?”

He shrugged. “There was more benefit in my knowing the information than letting you know that I knew it. Women tend to get creeped out if they think they’re being stalked or played. They find it far more romantic if a man instinctively anticipates what they need, but in order to do that, one has to take the time to figure it out. Since I don’t have the luxury of ‘dating,’ I had to find a more efficient way to do that. It’s the same game, just a different delivery. I can be prepared and you can be pleasantly surprised.”

I gulped hard as I realized how masterfully he had played the game. But it was what he said next that really took me by surprise.

“More importantly I wanted to see how you felt about your size, so I’d know which piece of clothing would make you feel the most beautiful.”

The way he said ‘your size,’ hit me like a brick to the face. “Two for two,” I gritted between clenched teeth before I turned away. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back.

“This is why I don’t talk about my job, Coralie. It doesn’t matter how we got there.”

“It does to me,” I snapped. “I don’t want a relationship built with smoke and mirrors.”

He released my arm. “Then don’t marry your gigolo.”

I threw the top on the box and spun on my heel to leave the closet, but he closed the distance between us in a heartbeat. He wrapped one strong arm around my waist, lifted me up off the ground and into the unrelenting vice of his embrace. “Let me go!”

“Never,” he said softly. My eyes sought his. Resistance beyond that was futile and I knew it. “I don’t apologize for anything that brought us together, Coralie. Not one damned thing. I love you. And that is worth everything.”


Like Devlin himself, I can't apologize for how we get there. That we get there, together, is worth everything.

Having said that:

**Author Not Responsible for Broken Kindles**

Are you sure you're ready for Book Two?

Gonna entertain ya till ya scream...

Friday, October 9, 2015

Something to read while you bask in the warm afterglow of Devlin Masters

Hey, you know how it's SO ANNOYING to wait a year or better for your series to complete? You find characters you just love, and juicy story that just won't leave you alone, and you have to *wait*? It sucks. And it seems all our best series tend to keep us dangling on the line, making us wait for them.


Believe me I share your pain. It's hard for me to wait, too, which is why I write obsessively for hours at a time to watch my stories unfold. I'm the book's first reader, and I *can't wait* to see how it all comes together. Never has this been truer than with the Masters Saga.

Confession: I couldn't let go of Devlin.

Actually that's not true. Devlin wouldn't let go of me. It was like he was made of magic.


That little stinker whispered into my ear day and night, urging - demanding - me to write his story, and I was all too eager to tell it.

Basically I had no choice in the matter. He took me well in hand.

N' I liked it. O_o

Truth be told, I kinda fell in love with him.

If you feel likewise, and are suffering a book hangover and Devlin withdrawals, I have GREAT NEWS...

You get Book Two - MASTERS FOR LIFE - on October 30, 2015!!!

Here's the cover...

Here's the blurb...

DISCLAIMER: This book is part of a series. Spoilers might be contained in the description. For new readers, start your journey with Devlin and Coralie in MASTERS FOR HIRE, now available everywhere!

They were two completely different people from two completely different worlds. Within two weeks they were married, for better or worse.

Their whirlwind romance did nothing to prepare Coralie Masters for what awaited the happy couple back home. Reality crushes the fairytale existence Devlin had created for her in Las Vegas. Ultimately his powerful seductive hold over her cannot protect her from new, powerful forces outside of their marriage that work nonstop to tear them asunder.

There is much more to fear than her family learning the truth of how and why they met, because there’s much more to Dev’s story that she could ever know. The mystery surrounding Devlin Masters quickly undermines their love story.

One thing becomes crystal clear. They may be married, but she doesn’t really know this sexy, alluring stranger at all.

They love each other. They want each other. They can’t stay away from each other.

But will it be enough?

The Groupie Saga titillated you. The Fullerton Family Saga broke your heart. We were only getting started. Book Two of the Masters Saga, MASTERS FOR LIFE, turns up all the Ginger Voight angst, drama and sex like never before.

**Author not responsible for broken Kindles.**

Intended for readers 18+ for graphic sexual content.

As you can see, it's about to get complicated! Dev was easy to love in Book One. He said all the right things and usually did all the right things. But as we return to "real life," Coralie realizes - as do we all - that Dev really was a blank slate in Book One, a chameleon who fit himself neatly into Coralie's fantasies. The truth? Devlin Masters harbors a lot of secrets. Worse, he doesn't appear especially eager to share them. He wants Coralie to trust him, even though he can't bring himself to share with her the dark details of his past.

How does he plan to make her trust him, then? Well, they don't call him a master for nothing. He uses his considerably skill as a lover - and his unbreakable seductive hold on her - to keep her blisscombobulated.

Here's a little taste...

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

I paused by the side of the bed. “It looks like you think you’re going to tie me to this bed.”

“I don’t think I’m going to tie you to the bed, Coralie,” he said. He turned to face me. “I know I am.”

My stomach dropped. “I don’t think so.”

He rounded the bed to approach me. “Why not? That’s what my good girl has always wanted, isn’t it? A walk on the wild side with an alpha male, who would take her in hand and make her submit.” He stood right in front of me. I could smell the booze on his breath. “A bad boy who would take all her choices away, so she doesn’t bear any responsibility for all her naughtiest desires. You need the baddest of the bad for a job like that, darlin.’ Someone a little…,” he trailed off as he leaned even closer, “unpredictable.”

I shivered in spite of myself. His fingers chased the goose bumps down my arm. “We didn’t cover everything in Vegas, did we? We left a few stones unturned. Let’s turn them over. You know nothing would turn you on more than to be tied to this bed, at my mercy.” Again I shivered. “Devlin.”

“For the rest of the night, until I tell you otherwise, you will call me sir,” he instructed as his eyes met mine. It was a potent look that welcomed no argument.

“Devlin,” I tried again, this time a little sharper. He responded by stepping closer.

“I said,” he repeated slowly, taking my chin in his hand, “you will call me sir.”

My eyes widened as his mouth descended on mine. Despite the light bondage and submission he was suggesting, the kiss was positively gentle. He teased my mouth apart with his lips, probing my mouth just lightly enough to make me melt against him. And he knew what kind of power he had over me the minute I kissed him back.

I was a junkie. And he was my fix.

He wound his hand in my hair and pulled my head back so he could explore my neck. “That’s my girl.”


As you can see, Devlin was pushing me out of my comfort zone. He does that a lot during this series, alternately making making me swoon and breaking my heart. You will love to hate me for what happens next, and this book in particularly will make you curse me. Vanni and the Groupie Saga will seem like a walk in the park in comparison. If you're a fan of my brand of hyper-reality, particularly the way I deliver it, where you love to hate me for the angsty complicated messes I allow my characters to get into, THIS is SO the series for you.

If you think you're up for it... dare to fall in love with the Master...