Welcome Remmy Duchene!!

(Welcome Remmy! You can misbehave all you like, I highly encourage it. Ask anyone around, I'm at my best when I'm being naughty. Have a great time! It sounds like you've got a great thing going on!)

Hey guys! HAPPY HUMP DAY!


So today I am crashing Colleen Love's place. She's a brave woman letting me in, because well, I tend to carry trouble with me no matter where I go so let see if I can behave myself today (lol). But seriously, thanks Colleen for letting me chill at your place for a bit.

My name is Remmy Duchene and I write gay romance & erotica. I have several titles out with a few different houses (though I am desperately trying to settle down with a few houses). My latest release is titled REDEMPTION and is now with Loose ID. Before that I had SADDLE UP N RIDE! with Phaze. I have CARIBBEAN HEAT and ALL HE WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS with Red Rose Publishing. With Dreamspinner press I have THE CALDWELL EFFECT, FOR YOUR LOVE and was a part of the Sandols and Sodomy anthology with my short HADRIAN. I was fortunate enough to write with the talented and wonderful John Simpson (http://johnsimpsonbooks.com) on a title close to my heart THE ORCHID MURDERS (Thanks for those who made it a best seller at eXtasy books!). I was also fortunate enough to be a best selling author of 2009 with Phaze so it was a great year. And last but certainly not least, I have a titled with a great friend: RIPPED APART (Cauthored by Lee Owens (http://leeowensromance.blogspot.com) that is now available at Red Eclipse Writers on lulu.com

Today I wish to write today about a couple of things one is the reality within the pages of gay romance/erotica and two, culture within my writing.

I write a little bit of both (romance & erotica). Someone asked me a few days ago why don't I write about gay men getting bashed because of who they are and all that drama. Well let me set the record straight right now. I want my writing to be an escapism kind of deal and I also would like people to take something good from my writing. Gay bashing is not something a person would like to escape into--know what I mean? I want a person to--if they had a bad day, to go home, pick up a Remmy title and sigh as they drift gently into a rather happier place for a bit.

Sure, bad things happens in some of my stories because it wouldn't be a good tale without it--but I don't want to add fuel to the fire of putting someone down. I don't tolerate it in my real life and feel horrible if I make someone feel like dirt because of my writing. Whenever there is any form of gay bashing in my works, I make sure I address it.

The second thing I wish to talk about is culture within the pages of my work. I prize myself in writing interracial gay romance/erotica. Why? Well, because I think culture is important no matter who you sleep with and love is love. I've had one hate mail from some ass on Myspace asking me why I had to pull black men into my 'deviances' and I remember laughing so hard I was rolling on the ground with tears pooling down my face (no foolin! I laughed so hard that the next day my ribs were sore.) Here's the deal, most of the gay friends that I have personally (*waves* Hi Zazo and Lee!) are black men. So I'm not pulling anyone into anything. Anyways, I adore mixing cultures. I love the way they come together, they way they love and speak to each other. I love seeing conflict arise because on person is afraid that the other for a different culture wouldn't be interested and the growth they do once they do fall for each other. It's a beautiful thing to watch two people fall in love.

My latest contract is titled CAGE FIGHTER'S SALVATION. I can't give you an excerpt yet because it has to edited first as per my publisher's guidelines but here's a blurb:

All his life, ex-marine, Tadashi Tsubasa has had to fight for everything. After he retires from the Marines, he comes home to find that his lover had fled town with his bank account and his home was repossessed by the bank. His world is plunged into a dark world that he tries to dig himself out of but homeless, alone and depressed, he figures that for once, he cannot fight his way back. When he recieves an invitation to take part in some kind of underground fighting league, he figures he has nothing to lose and fifty thousand dollars to gain. Throwing caution to the wind he takes on this job vowing never to allow any man in again-- ever

Cole Ashton is the head of the Ultimum Gym chain. He hates his job but to be a good boy, he follows in his father's footsteps. When his brother invites him to an illegal cage fight, Cole reluctantly goes and the instant he sees the fighter known only as "Wings" Cole falls hard. The sexy, Japanese fighter made Cole want to give everything up for just one night in the fighter's arms. But as he get to know Tadashi, Cole realises that Tadashi is fighting more than the men in the ring; Tadashi is fighting demons. Right then and there, Cole decides that Tadashi is worth it but how much can one man take?

You can find out more about CAGE FIGHTER'S SALVATION (Coming soon to Red Rose Publishing) by visiting me on the web. You can find me on facebook by searching REMMY DUCHENE. http://remmyduchene.webs.com and follow me at my blog at http://remmyduchene.blogspot.com

Thanks again Colleen for letting me stop by and have a lovely hump day!

Remmy Duchene

Ichi Ai!
Gay Romance Author
Remmy Duchene
http://remmyduchene.webs.com/
www.myspace.com/remmyduchene
www.facebook.com/remmyduchene
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ohlalaauthors/

Guest Blogger: Barbora Knobova

Price: $22.70 Paperback: 180 pages Publisher: BK Publishing (September 1, 2009) Language: English ISBN-10: 0578033399 ISBN-13: 978-0578033396 Product Dimensions: 9 x 6 x 0.4 inches


Tales for Delicious Girls has received perfect 5-star ratings from women all over the world!


"Tales for Delicious Girls" offers witty, refreshing, clever and ironic insight into relationships between men and women from all points of view. The book is a modern relationship manual, providing answers to the most pressing dating and friendship questions that strong, independent, modern women want to know. "Tales for Delicious Girls" deals with wishes, desires and dreams - as well as hilarious mishaps and dating disasters. However, "Tales for Delicious Girls" is not simply a humorous book. In addition to entertaining the readers, the tales will inspire women to think about their own life and relationships, see themselves through different eyes and realize that they are their own best friend, the pillar of their own life, and the only person they can always count on. "Tales for Delicious Girls" encourages women to love, respect and appreciate themselves, to live the life they have always wanted, and become aware of their true uniqueness and deliciousness. This book will make you cry till there are tears in your eyes. It will become your faithful companion, and will help you find yourself. It was written for you because you're delicious - the most delicious girl in the world.



Portion of Author Autobahn Review:

We all have different experiences, but every "delicious girl" will see a bit of herself in Barbora's book. She doesn't feel sorry for herself; she uses her past as a springboard to the future. Tales for Delicious Girls is filled with cautionary true-stories. Is Barbora trying to use her experiences as a warning to every other girl? To prevent her from making the same mistakes she did? Of course, that would be ideal! But when it comes down to it, what the author is trying to remind every woman is to listen to that small voice inside and act upon it when it says, "Dump this loser!" She wants every woman to remember that no matter our choices, we can make better ones tomorrow.

Author Bio

Barbora Knobova is an author who writes about women and for women. A relationship coach and a "Delicious Girl", she is always on women's side and dedicates herself to helping women find their path to self-love and happiness. Barbora believes that every woman deserves to be loved, appreciated and respected, and her books speak to women of all ages, providing them with support and encouragement. Barbora's motto is: I believe in myself. In us. And in you. Because we all are Delicious. Visit Barbora's website http://www.barboraknobova.com for free e-courses, e-books and relationship advice.

Welcome Antonia Tiranth!

Delilah : Hi everyone! I’m Delilah K. Stephans. I’m here with my buddy Antonia Tiranth, Jett Houston and Amara Carnesir. We’re hoping that you will join us as we celebrate the release of Jett and Amara’s book. I’m going to let Antonia say hi.

Antonia : Hey guys! I'm really excited about this release for a few reasons. First, its my third published work and that never gets dull. ^.^ Second, its the continuation of a tale that I am very much enjoying being the teller of. And finally, because its the first published work from both Del and I. Its not the first thing we've written together by any means and Del has been with me the whole time with the Rikashi series, helping me when I'm stuck and editing among other things. Okay, enough about me. I should introduce you to our stars, Jett and Amara!

Jett: Guess I’m up next. Well, Tir – that’s what Delilah calls Antonia – started chronicling the Rikashi stories. No one has quite figured out how she’s doing it, but that’s not the point. So when it came time for Black Velvet. I thought since those two were writing buddies that Del should get in on the fun…

Amara: Oh be honest, you just wanted to be difficult. And Antonia is too polite to type your foul mouth.

Jett: I am so paddling your ass when we get home Princess.


Amara: I might just enjoy it.

Delilah: Ok you two behave! Sheesh.

Jett: So, where was I? So, I wouldn’t talk to Tir. Drove her nuts!

Antonia:Nuts doesn't begin to cover it. More like hair pulling frustration.

Jett: Anyway, they go ways back writing and finished our story.

Amara: Wow! You didn’t cuss once, I’m impressed. I’m Amara. think Antonia was a little surprised when I ended up being in the middle of the third tale. I wasn't exactly very talkative in The Gathering ...I'll blame that one on Daddy...but I'm sure you'll find our story interesting. You'll learn more about the prophecy and some of the changes happening in our society. Things definitely heat up *looks at Jett* on several levels.


Antonia: You can say that again. So, I hope you guys take a look at Black Velvet. If you're new to the series, you should take a look at the first two. Now, what are we doing to celebrate? I'll let Del tell you about that.

Delilah: Ok so while we’re here we’ll be answering any and all questions. For one lucky commenter we have downloads of the two songs that fit the book – Tal Bachman’s “She’s so High” and Alannah Myles’ “Black Velvet”. For a few others we’ve got a stockpile of goodies we’ll be giving out – buttons, cover flats, bookmarks, and other goodies. So feel free to ask questions or just say hi!

Antonia : The songs will be provided via a gift download from iTunes (just figured out how to do that!) Del and I love hearing from readers and invite you to visit our websites, Delilah's and mine. You can also find us on Twitter and Facebook. And now for a look at the cover, Amara...stop drooling.



And the blurb : I scanned the tables and counter, my eyes settling on him. There he was. Dark cowboy hat, dark coat, dark hair, and too handsome for his own good. He was sitting in one of the back booths, blending with the shadows.

I walked to his table, seating myself across from him. He looked over his menu at me and smirked.

“Just can’t stay away from me, can you, Princess?”

The nickname made me bristle, but I took a deep breath. I had to keep my focus on the mission. “So it seems.”

“Interesting,” he murmured, turning his eyes back to the menu, his face hidden beneath the brim of the hat.

Now what? What exactly should I say to him?

“We need you,” I blurted. Might as well get right to the point, rather than beat around the bush.

He laid the menu on the table. His dark eyes skimmed over my hair, my lips and down to my breasts, before returning to meet mine. My breath caught in my throat. There was such intensity in those eyes.

“We,” he echoed, then his voice dropped to a gravelly tone that made me want to squirm in my seat, “…or you?”

Now exactly what was that supposed to mean? I was one of the Aikanaro, if all of us needed him, didn’t that mean by extension each of us needed him? “I need you to come --”

“Ladies first.” He tapped the brim of his hat with a finger and winked.

I blinked at him, not understanding what he meant by that. Then slowly his meaning hit me and heat crept into my cheeks. “That’s not what I meant,” I snapped. “If you would just let me finish.”

You can get your copy of the book from Lyrical Press, Inc.

Special Guest: Lisa Leibow!

WHAT MAKES A FAMILY?
A family need not be a mother, father, sister, brother. Thankfully, we live in a diverse world. Today, in any random-neighborhood, suburban street, or city block, a single mother with three children, might live next to a couple who, married for the second time, blended their families like The Brady Bunch. Across the street might live two, happily-married, gay men with their four-year-old, adopted daughter. Three houses down, a dual-income husband and wife have been married for years but struggle with infertility.
As the infertile couple works with a doctor, they are likely to investigate the myriad of options available for them to start a family. They might look into domestic and international adoption, they could try artificial insemination, or more invasive procedures, like in vitro fertilization. If the husband learns he has problems with sperm morphology or mobility, they might look into obtaining donor sperm. If the wife’s eggs are not viable, they might consider donor eggs. They might even begin to investigate opportunities to obtain donor embryos.
If successful, either in adopting or giving birth using assisted reproductive technologies, the infertile couple may raise a child not biologically-related to one or both of them. Back to my initial question: What makes a family? Certainly, biological relation does bind some to their families. However, it need not be a factor. To me, it doesn’t matter how the family came to be, unconditional love, support, a sense of belonging are the hallmarks of family.
What’s striking about my debut novel, Double Out and Back is that it explores from a literary perspective, some of the social issues faced by a generation that has more options than ever when it comes to starting a family. What fascinates me is that when it comes right down to it, even with the technological advancements in reproduction and healthcare, families still must rely on one another to thrive.




Short bio:
Lisa Lipkind Leibow is the author of Double Out and Back (Red Rose Publishing), which takes the reader on the roller-coaster ride of infertility treatments as seen through the eyes of three women.

Originally a lawyer, Lisa traded the billable hour lifestyle for fiction writing. Lisa’s work has also appeared in Pisgah Review. She lives and writes in Northern Virginia with her husband, three sons, a clumber spaniel, and two red-eared sliders.

You can learn more about Lisa and her writing at www.LLLeibow.com.

Double Out and Back available now from Red Rose Publishing.

Not every woman who rides the fertility treatment roller coaster winds up like Octomom!









Who will find friends, family, and fertility?
Three women’s lives are intricately intertwined, as Amelia Schwartz and Summer Curtis struggle with the complex dynamics of intrafamily embryo adoption, and Chandy Markum strives to make her patients’ dreams a reality.
After more than a decade, of mourning her parents’ deaths, anal-retentive Amelia Schwartz decides to take control of her life, pursuing single motherhood via embryo adoption. While her fertility doctor, Chandy, is preoccupied with the destruction of the cosmopolitan Cape Town of her youth and her first love in apartheid-torn South Africa, believing all is lost, her niece, a young, married, overachieving attorney Summer Curtis, juggles zealous career ambitions, demanding bosses, and friction with her husband over family and fertility issues. They must confront the painful reality that, no matter what technology humans devise to manipulate reproduction, prolong life, and construct family units, they have not yet mastered control over their beginnings and endings.
Thrown all into this is one story that can make or break. Are you up to it?

Welcome Ellen Ashe!!

Hi Everyone!
It is my distinct pleasure to introduce my friend Ellen Ashe!
Thanks for visiting today!
C~




Ghost Walk

~ A short story by Ellen Ashe~



The history of York, we were told- my friend and I- is the history of England. Preserved medieval walls and buildings, the whisper of civil war, kings and queens, plagues and torture, survival and romance, all of it oozed a saga we simply couldn’t get enough of. Narrow streets revealed cluttered shops, tea rooms, and wine bars. Cathedral crypts, dully lit, spoke of long gone civilizations- Romans, Saxons, Vikings, Normans- and museums, too many to count, peeled back the layers of time for all who cared to stop and wonder. A romantic’s dream come true and we reveled in exploration.

As the warm summer day grew dim we stopped by the River Ouse outside a favorite pub, The King’s Arms, rested our feet and dampened parched throats. A tall, pasty complexioned fellow caught our attention. Dressed as an undertaker, tall black hat, his cape swirling around his ankles, he waved his crooked walking stick and called forth all those who wished to hear the stories of lost souls within the city’s walls who could not find rest. “Join me,” he chanted with an air of suspenseful expectancy. “And I shall take you to places where infamy refuses to concede to reality.”

An eager crowd soon gathered. His flare for all things dark and ghostly was quite lucrative; they paid their dues and shuffled about in nervous anticipation. Despite our aching feet, we too, were seduced by his mystical mannerisms; curiosity got the better of us. The few shekels we handed over were well worth the price for nerve tingling entertainment.

We were not disappointed. We tagged along, stopping to listen intently to a sad story of a child locked inside a plague house, to die, not of the disease that wracked the population centuries ago, but of slow starvation. Her little face did not appear in the upstairs window for us, but we didn’t doubt on some foggy nights it did just that. Outside a pub called The Black Swan we held our breath as the tale of a ghostly woman was recounted, trying vainly to warm her cold hands near the fireplace and vanishing as patrons approached to peer into her eyes. Next was The Treasurer’s House, where ghostly dualists fight through eternity on the manicured lawn, swords clashing for the heart of a lady who had long since turned to dust.

Our host was mesmerizing- his deep voice rising and falling- subtle nuances as he embellished these fanciful tales for an engrossed audience. We were of no exception. “He’s good,” I whispered to my friend and she nodded slowly, her eyes wide.

“Fascinating,” said a fellow who had silently come up behind us. We turned in unison to glance at the stowaway, and being warm blooded and female, were taken aback by his sinister good looks. Locks of black hair curled over his white collar and framed swarthy Greek God features. He smiled at each of us in turn, long lashes curling above sultry brown eyes. “Do you believe?” His question was uttered in sincerity.

I found my voice first. “There’s likely a grain of truth to each story,” I said, hoping my palpitating heartbeat wasn’t betraying my attraction to masculine qualities draped in fine clothes- silky cotton shirt, dark trousers, soft leather boots- certainly a stark contrast to our tourist identifying garb of t-shirts, jeans and running shoes.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked. He bowed, slightly, and we were instantly charmed by his elegant mannerisms. “My name is Jonathan Wright.”

Mr. “Right”, I mused, speechlessness taking hold. My friend introduced herself but I was then beyond capability of forming words.

This was a blessing, in fact, for he quietly highlighted the next tale of a Grey Lady who had, our formal guide bellowed, been seen on a regular basis haunting The Theatre Royal. “She was boarded up in a wall,” Jonathan Wright said softly, leaning between our shoulders. “Left there to die, inch by inch, for the crime of passion.” I shuddered at this horror, keeping my own stirring passions muted, thankful that dreadful era no longer held power over liberated minds.

We three tagged along behind the troupe to the final stop, The King’s Manor, and I felt uneasy that perhaps our guest might be scorned for hanging on, but no one seemed to notice. We had become delightfully anonymous. And inside the echoing stone foyer we listened politely to the story of a lady in green, her costume denoting the Tudor style, who carried roses from a garden that existed hundreds of years ago.

The Ghost Walk was then concluded; the crowd dispersed, happily arguing over the authenticity of these tales of intrigue. But we three remained in the cold open foyer, as our guest peered longingly at the stairway that led up into a vast room shrouded in darkness. There was more to the story of the lady in green, we guessed, and waited with eager apprehension.

“She loved only one,” he said calmly, his eyes fixated on the gloom above us. “Yet duty saw her bound to another.” He sighed with such emotion that we clutched each other’s arms- my friend and I- wondering how it was he was privy to such depth.

“Murder,” he announced with such vigor we startled. “Both were murdered by the cruel heart of jealousy.”

He turned once more and smiled to us. “I must bid you both adieu,” he said with a nod. “May life and love fulfill all your dreams. Always believe.”

With that, he moved towards the wide staircase and before our eyes, slowly vanished. Ascending footsteps faded into nothingness.

We were left alone, to wonder how it was that lost love could stretch beyond the borders of time, and how we could never again concede to what we perceived as reality. And as we backed away from the cold stone foyer into the busy street outside, the delicate scent of roses filled the air.

http://www.ellenashe.net/
http://ellenashe.blogspot.com/