I’m working on a sort-a secret Halloween reverse harem project!
Keep an eye out here, or on my Facebook page for information as we get closer to October!
ROMANCE • CONTEMPORARY • PARANORMAL
I’m working on a sort-a secret Halloween reverse harem project!
Keep an eye out here, or on my Facebook page for information as we get closer to October!
I didn’t know how to express the feelings I experienced. Hell, they barely felt like feelings. They felt like exhaustion, commitment, obligation. It was slogging and difficult work.
Anything and everything I had done in my life for the past eight years I revisited with tweezers and magnifying glass scrutiny. How could I have changed the outcome? Why didn’t I have the outcome I thought I wanted. How could I go back and change everything?
I began having dreams where I could time travel and now-me would tell past me to make little changes.
I would wake up because I couldn’t breathe.
My apartment felt confining, constricting. I ran outside just to breathe more than once. I had waking nightmares of dropping Myrna. At those times I would look into the side crib, assure myself that everything was alright, and then stay up for hours just watching Myrna breathe. She was here, she was safe.
I hadn’t forgotten to feed her or change her diapers. I hadn’t left her someplace and then not been able to remember.
I started to look up my foibles so many times. Each time I either couldn’t complete filling out the search field, or I would not click on the links.
When I finally clicked on one of the links I fell down a rabbit hole of patient cure thyself bull. Blogs that looked like they had useful articles denied the existence of postpartum depression, others tried to sell me essential oils to get out of my funk. And too many of them assumed I had a partner who could help me with my burden of guilt.
©2019 Lulu M. Sylvian,currently untitled from the Phantom Stars Trilogy
I quietly walked over to where Liam stood and showed him the can. He nodded. I might as well do my job while Glenn was on a tear.
“Why are you still doing that?”
I jumped at Glenn’s loud tirade now directed at me. “He hasn’t gotten any sun for days now.”
I looked at the man like he had lost it completely. I held up the can. “Right, it’s working because I put sunscreen on him throughout the shoot.”
Never considered that Sunscreen Consultant would be a job I held. Glenn just stared at me, holding my gaze. So far it had been an odd week, starting with him pulling me away from my job on set to manage Sebastian Hale’s pale skin.
Every morning I met Liam and applied thick creamy lotion to his ridiculous shoulders and ticklish knees. And every morning I had to insist he do his own chest and abs. I let my hands glide over his skin and up and over the ridges of muscle in his arms and back, probably enjoying the touch a bit too much. He stood there oblivious to my presence, focused on his phone, thumbs flying over text messages.
He wasn’t exactly impolite, he was just used to having people wait on his snobby ass hand and foot. If he wasn’t a job, I wouldn’t even attempt to speak to him. But I did have to tell him how to stand and move so I could rub him down. And why not try to get as much enjoyment out of a job as possible? It’s not like anything would ever happen between us. I seriously doubt Liam James would be able to pick me out of a lineup of tall black men, and I am most definitely not tall or a man. And I’m about as far from black as you can get without being an albino.
Glenn nodded and I was allowed to go back to my little chair in the back and wait until the next time I needed to spray down the star.
©2018 Lulu M Sylvian, currently untitled from the Second Endings Trilogy
Her eyes immediately were drawn to the two women in the middle of the open floor. They wore work out wear, and were posed knees bent, butts pushed out, chests up, arms lifting in large circles. Katie stopped and watched. They were the Poule dancers. Katie’s stomach did a flip. She was already all nerves to see Nick again after last night and this morning, would he still want her around? But now to see the burlesque dancers practicing was an extra thrill. After only having seen one show, they were her personal heroes.
Katie couldn’t take her eyes from the dancers. They stepped, turned and posed to the music. She didn’t move from inside the door until one of the dancers caught her eye in the mirror.
She stopped and faced Katie. “Who are you? This is a private dance studio.”
The words stuck in her throat. “I…” She pointed to where Nick worked. “I’m…Nick.”
“Katie-cat is my lover.” Nick announced as he crossed the studio to where she stood. Katie couldn’t take her eyes from his face. His wide smile and happy expression made her insides quiver. He pulled her into his embrace and claimed her lips in a searing kiss.
He broke the kiss and pivoted to face the dancers. Katie could only blink as she looked at his face. His words and actions claimed her like an object. An inkling in the back of her brain pointed to this as a prime example that he was never going to be emotionally invested in them as a future couple. Her heart smothered that inkling with a pillow, and shoved it far far away. She wanted to be his. More accurately she wanted him to be hers.
More holiday bump and grind this winter coming your way!
©2018 Lulu M Sylvian
A pre-edited sneak peak at the 5th Legatum book.
“Homework?” He asked, resting on the opposite bench for a moment.
“Yep, grading. I was hoping a change of scenery and some food would make this easier.” She rubbed the back of her neck.
“That sounds like it’s not working.”
“It’s not. I don’t know.” She rested her cheek in her palm, elbow resting on the table. She stared at the papers. “The students need an algebra brick upside their heads and I need a bubble bath.”
“The thing that always helped me with math, was context.” Bobby leaned back looking at the other customers, seeing if he was needed. He was. “I’ll be back.” He stood and left.
Ramona was still staring at the papers, she hadn’t moved when he returned with her french fries.
She popped a hot fry in her mouth, and chewed.
“As I was saying, context. I could care less about watermelons, but when Brad helped me he always put it into terms of the shop. How many cars how many parts, how to know what to order next. Have you tried that yet?”
“I need to. They were talking about that at my last school. How to prepare for the zombie apocalypse, food storage and stuff. How many cans of peaches to survive the first winter. How fast your gun shoots, how many bullets you need. That’s not a bad idea actually. I’m going to have to go over all of this again, why not. Thanks Bobby.” She popped another fry into her mouth, and smiled. “I’m going to need a burger for while I grade the rest of this.”
“BLT burger or you looking to branch out?”
“I’m going to live dangerously, can you add cheese to that?”
Bobby chuckled, “You are living dangerously.”
Ramona picked up the next paper in front of her. Teaching math with zombies, might actually work. She just hoped it wouldn’t get her into trouble with Principal Grover. He seemed to like to keep a tight reign on standards and how lessons were presented. The homework assignments seemed to get worse and worse as she continued grading.
Bobby arrived with her hamburger. “You’re still looking stressed.” He put the sandwich down in front of her, then reached behind her and began kneading her shoulders. Ramona felt like melting. Bobby’s hands were large and warm. His strong fingers dug into the tense muscles supporting her neck. “Your neck is like a rock.”
Ramona suppressed a groan, the massage felt so good. She felt like all of her muscles turned to jello. Bobby did know how to touch, okay this wasn’t the touch her friends seemed to seek out, but she would take it. “You need to go home and soak in a hot tub, that will help.” His thumbs continued to press circles next to her spine. Ramona could barely think.
“Ahh, I don’t have a tub, just a walk in shower. It sucks.”
Bobby continued working his hands over her shoulders.
“I think you missed your calling. You would make a killing as a masseuse.” Ramona almost purred.
His hands stopped, he patted Ramona on the shoulder. “I have a tub you can borrow.”
“What? Really? I don’t want to impose, but oh my God really?”
“Yeah, be right back.”
Ramona sat stunned. Bobby had a tub, and he was going to let her use it. Oh no, he’s hitting on me, wait Bobby never does that, he doesn’t need to. Her thoughts raced from the joy of a tub, to being worried if it was a come-on, and if she really wanted to be another notch on his belt or not. He was good looking, and nice, and that massage had felt so good. She wouldn’t mind a full body rub down. All the tension he had managed to work out of her neck returned. She shook her head, stop over thinking girl. She focused on eating her hamburger.
“Okay,” he was back. “I have an outdoor tub.”
“A hot tub?” Oh, that would be perfect she thought.
“No, just a tub. A really big tub. It has its own hot water heater, so it could be a hot tub, but no bubbles. I’m here all night, so if you wanted you could go over an use it.”
“Are you serious?” Ramona’s eyes were large saucers as she eagerly looked at Bobby. A tub! A bath!
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Look my dogs will be out, but they won’t bother you. Just tell them to shut up, use their names so they think they know you.” He picked up the pencil she had been marking papers with, tore off a sheet from his order book, and scribbled down his address.
“I’m out on east 2280, dented white mailbox just past a red cattle gate. Una is the big brown hound, Deuce looks like a white pit, Tre is the gray mutt. They are all bark. Like I said, use their names tell them to shut up, and they will calm down. Tre might jump a bit, but they’re harmless.”
Ramona took the scribbled address. “Your dogs are named one-two-three?”
“And the cat is Cat.”
Longing- Legatum book 4- is in the works for an early fall/ later summer release.
Lucy hung up the phone. A smile crossed her lips. The kids were off with Geoff’s sister Michelle, and now a dinner date, alone, just the two of them. It had been entirely too long since they had some time to themselves. Last night had been the kick off to what was turning into a fabulous weekend.
She stood in front of her open closet. She wanted to wear something that made her feel beautiful, something that would remind Geoff of last night. Something that would remind them both that over forty wasn’t old.
Lucy sensed that Geoff had been hit hard by the big four-oh. Middle-aged. Even though it really wasn’t. His family had longevity in their genes, and modern medical science added in the extra boost. Besides Geoff was fit and healthy. His doctor declared it about his insides, as well as the obvious physical appearance. Lucy felt that forty was just the beginning. Then again she also felt that her kids kept her young. Tonight she was going to remind Geoff they were nowhere near being old.
Red would set off her pale skin and black hair. Turquoise would light up her eyes to a neon blue. And then there was always basic black. Her closet was full of basic black. Her closet wasn’t the gloriously large walk-in type she used to have, it was slightly deeper than two hanger’s widths and as wide as half the bedroom. She knew in the depths there had to be a sexy red dress. Lucy dug into the corner, cursing how she wished she had a flashlight. Clothes pressed against her back and felt uncharacteristically heavy. She cursed again as she discovered just how many of her clothes had slipped from their hangers and were piled up in the back.
I need to clean this thing out. I bet I can give half of these to Stacey. Her daughter was about the same size now, and had a flair for style that Lucy no longer embraced. She unearthed a lone shoe, tossing it to the other side of the closet.
Lucy came up for air, sitting on her haunches just outside of the open closet. She pulled a heap of random clothes with her. Everything was black, or beige. Not beige, taupe. She had gone through a phase where she only wore black white or taupe. She had been very stylish, but also fairly conservative for her own tastes. A glint of red caught her eye as she shifted the pile.
A dress. A spaghetti-strapped velvet sheath dress. Perfect.
I’m really excited to announce that I will be contributing to the May release of Marina Adair’s St. Helena Vineyards Kindleworlds! This is a little peek at what I’ve been working on for it.
“Oh we’re not done.” Les smiled before turning away. He bent over and pulled something from the lower level of the serving cart behind him.
Tori’s eyes went wide.
Les held two long white rectangular plates with five round mini towers of cheesecake.
“Oh, none for me, I don’t eat dairy.” Krista quietly pushed out of her chair. “I’ll see you in the truck.”
Everyone watched as she quietly left.
“Is she okay?” Marc asked.
“Yeah, she’s just really quiet and shy.” Tori screwed up her face. “And socially awkward. But I think she actually really liked the cakes. She said something.”
Tori turned her attention back to the cheesecakes. Now, this is what she was hoping for. She smiled with delight as he slid the long plate in front of her.
“Are you going to do a cheesecake flight? That would be awesome.” She looked at Les expectantly.
“Hadn’t thought about that. Hmm?” Chef tapped his fork against his mouth. “That might be worth looking into.”
“A flight?” Marc asked.
“Yeah, it’s like a wine tasting where you get a smaller portion of different flavors. People have been doing it around here for so long, they don’t call it a flight, just a tasting,” Les answered. He turned to Tori. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
“Sorry…I…ah…yeah.” She slid the fork into the first cheesecake. Chocolate by the coloring. It was delicious, and smooth, and perfect. The cocoa flavor almost as intense as the cake earlier.
She wanted to dive in and finish the entire small piece, but Krista was waiting, and there were four more flavors.
The next one played a myriad of flavors across her tongue. She closed her eyes and savored the nuances of wine and white chocolate. She may have moaned.
Les shifted uneasily. He watched as the tip of Tori’s tongue touched the morsel of food on the fork. She guided the fork into her mouth, then closed her pink lips around the cheesecake. The fork slid ever so slowly from between her lips, wiped perfectly clean. His body pulled, what he wouldn’t give to be that fork right now. Stop it, dude, that’s just Tori.
She focused on a bite of a different flavor. Mouth, lips, tongue. She made a stuttering mew of a moan. The look on her face…Les felt a throb in his crotch.
Chef cleared his throat and put his fork down. Les looked over at Marc, he shifted uneasily in his chair. Damn, Les wasn’t the only one thinking that Tori might be enjoying her cheesecake a bit too much. Then again, what would it take for a man to satisfy her to that level?
Les started clearing plates as Tori sampled the last flavor on her plate. He had a hard time watching, he felt almost dirty, like he had been caught sneaking into his dad’s Penthouse collection.
He shook his head, yeah, no. Stop that. It was Tori, she was cute and all, but no, not Tori. Not with her plus-sized jeans. Oh shut the f* up Les, you’re beginning to sound like Stevens. Why not Tori?
After a few false starts, and a voice crack, Chef managed, “You certainly enjoy your cheesecake. That was positively…”
“I feel like a bit of a voyeur having witnessed that.”
Les caught Tori blushing, and staring at her plate embarrassed. “No boss-man, that’s exactly the reaction we want. Tori, you clearly had favorites, share.”
“Uhm, okay.” She pointed to the chocolate, “This was nice but boring, especially after trying the rest of these. The wine, whats the chocolate?” Tori slid her fork back into the swirls of the cheesecake she mentioned and then slipped another small bite between her lips.
“White chocolate ganache with blackcurrant marbling.” Les swallowed the dry lump in his throat. The way she enjoyed the dessert made it hard for him to focus. He needed a moment or three in the deep freezer to cool off.
“Yeah,” she hummed. “It’s amazing, but I think too rich for a full-size slice. You really should consider a flight, because this amount would be just perfect. But include a plain cheesecake, as a cleanser between the other fancy ones.”
She tapped her fork against what remained of a soft orange and lavender-tinted piece. “This is the one you threatened me with before isn’t is? It’s amazing. It could easily stand on its own. I’ll make sure to get all the lavender I can for you.”
The kitchen doors swung open. “Your ride is honking, it’s distracting.” Stevens sneered at Tori.
“That’s not like Krista. I better go.” Tori stood in a hurry. “Thank you for letting me try all these out. You have to do the honey lemon and lavender, it’s amazing.”
“You didn’t like the chocolate cheesecake?” Les asked. People loved his chocolate cheesecake.
“Don’t get me wrong…” Tori flushed. “The chocolate was fantastic, but I want to have the honey, lemon, and lavender’s babies. Why have just good, when you can have orgasmic?”
In the back of his brain, Les was kicked with a thought, what would it be like to have Tori look at him as if he were cheesecake.
Jason led Amy out of the restaurant. He dropped her hand and then he spun on the ball of his foot, completing several full turns. He stopped with a jump, planting his feet. “Whoo!”
“I guess you enjoyed your supper?” Amy ran after him as he danced down the street.
Jason leaped onto a planter before jumping and landing with another spin.
“If you were singing, I would think I’d been transported into a musical,” she said, looking up to Jason as he spun around a lamp pole.
He smiled down at her.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re dancing up the street like a mad man.” She laughed.
Jason twirled and executed an undulating body wave before coming to a stop in front of Amy.
The breath caught in her throat as he merged their personal spaces. “You are music that makes me feel like dancing,” he confessed in a low whisper.
Amy expected her face to burst into flames with the heat of her flush, but instead it suddenly was cold and wet. She lifted her face to the sky to watch the sudden downpour overtake them.
She laughed. “It is like a musical, and now it’s raining.”
“You know what that means, don’t you?” Jason asked.
Amy shook her head.
“It means the hero gets to kiss the girl now.”
©2017 Lulu M Sylvian
“Camp NaNoWriMo is a virtual writer’s retreat, designed for maximum flexibility and creativity. We have Camp sessions in both April and July, and we welcome word-count goals between 30 and 1,000,000. In addition, writers can tackle any project they’d like, including new novel drafts, revision, poetry, scripts, and short stories.” –from their website
I am taking this opportunity play along with Camp NANO, and the writer support I find there to power through the rest of the stripper shorts. This excerpt is “RAW” and unedited, cranked out just this month.
The music changed dramatically from loud and booming, to tinkling and light. Christmas music filled the air, and Katie could hear the woman next to her singing along with the music.
The stage curtains slid open revealing a man half dressed in a Santa suit lounging on a throne. Two ripped men dressed as elves pushed the throne forward down stage. The audience squealed in excitement and delight.
The “Santa” lounged on the throne. It was elaborate, tall gilded, ornate, it was everything that a throne should be. The “Santa” was not. He defied anyone’s preconceived notion of what a Santa was. There was no body fat on the man, he was lean and muscular. His long limbs betrayed his extensive height. His long scarlet robe of velvet, lined in ermine fur, cascaded around his frame, open, displaying an impressive collection of chest and abdominal muscles. Matching red britches and knee high boots completed his costume. There wasn’t a gray or white hair anywhere on his head or face. Thick wavy ginger hair graced his head under a crown of holly leaves and berries, no stocking cap with a ball of fluff on the end for him. The smirk across his face denoted his withering scorn for the scene before him. He kicked lazily in time to the music.
Now that’s a bad-ass man who clearly drinks tea. Holy Crap! Katie covered her mouth in an excited silent scream as she realized she could leverage tonight’s show for her blog. She let out a particularly loud cat-call to celebrate that this evening had just become a tax write-off. It looked like the wishing tea really did work.
The elves slid the throne back and to the side. Katie recognized her morning ogle victim as one of the two elves. Katie’s jaw dropped open. She had thought he looked hot and cute wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Now, shirtless with an open vest, poofy pants, and curly-toed shoes, he made a ridiculous elf costume look sexy. Santa deigned to get off of the throne. He tossed his long velvet cloak back onto the throne, the elves flanked him.
Three sexually-intimidating, ripped, with more abs than should be legal, Christmas characters stood poised ready to thrill.
“That’s one elf that can be on my shelf anytime.”
©2017 Lulu M. Sylvian
The naming of cats is a serious matter.
Cats are tough, characters are tricky. You have to encompass all that is that person into a few collection of letters.
Think about it. How does your name define you? You have had your entire life to create that definition for your collection of letters.
Typically my characters come with names. I am currently working on a collection of Holiday short stories for release in the fall. Sometimes the characters tell me their names, sometimes their names are a struggle.
In Bang a Drummer I knew the male was Lance. A friend laughed at me and told me that was appropriately phallic. I had NEVER made that connection before. I was having issues with the female lead, she wasn’t very forthcoming with her identity.
Since I am playing with some twists based on Shakespeare’s play Twelfth Night, same friend (who laughed about Lance) helped me with some derivatives on names. She was smart and informed me that Viola is a variation of Violet, and this led to the name Lettie. Something I had not thought of: she Googled variations of the name. My idea of twisting names is to take the character I’m using as inspiration and mash it up with something I know. Example: Sebastian, so I, of course, think of Sebastian Stan, and thus the character is now named Bucky.
In Calling Bird, my main male character is a rocker turned stripper. He’s a “classic” rocker boy, ripped-off sleeves, leather, studs, long hair. And, because I appreciate the glam of hair bands, he wears a little guy-liner. I wanted a name that ended in the ee sound: Nikki, Johny, Robbie, Ronnie, Tony, Billy. Came up with a brilliant name, started writing with it, my character liked it, settled into it like a comfortable denim jacket. Then the name started to rub funny, it got uncomfortable and itchy. Turns out it was the name of a medical specialist we saw when my kid was an infant. Scratch that one off the list. Ended up with Lonnie Rose. He had at least three names before settling on that one. The heroine, she was easy peasy. Waltzed right in, her name is Ava, she’s a nurse. It was like she just handed me her credentials, I knew all I needed to know immediately.
These are the couple names I have so far for ...currently untitled collection of stripper shorts around a holiday theme…(titles thats a whole ‘nother ball of sticky wax when it comes to names)
Looking for names? Check out these name sites: