Duh Syndrome Is My Friend

Not duh as in lacking intelligence or doing drugs. Oh, no. It’s the duh that happens when I’ve stared at a computer screen for a minimum of six hours a day, usually longer. The duh that occurs when I sit with my laptop too long and finish just one more blog, interview, edit, revision, or new chapter and never make it outside to stretch my legs.

There are many definite signs when Duh Syndrome is really bad, but here are a few off the top of my head.

*The hubby or one of the kids tells me something with me
looking him or her directly in the eyes, and I realize five minutes after they've left I have no freaking clue what he or she just said to me.

*I get up to go to the bathroom and forget where I’m going halfway to Wherever Land.

*My mother or oldest dau calls me on the cell and I zone out. “FAITH! Are you there? Did the call drop?” or “MOM! Did you go to sleep?” Gah.

*The hubby tells me about his workday and I find myself dozing off with my eyes open. And no, I’m not kidding! Eyes are open!

*The cat jumps on my lap and lies on my hands stretched across the keyboard and I keep typing! Buy hey, it’s great exercise. One, lift cat! Two, lift cat! Three, lift cat!

*Duh Syndrome is really bad when I look at the clock and realize it’s 2 PM and I’ve not had anything to eat or drink all day except for several cups of b-b-b-b-b-b-black c-c-c-c-c-coffee.

*Bizarre words unexpectedly pop out of my mouth when I’m talking. Example: “I’m tired. I’m going to go watch pudding before I go to sleep." Or I type something like that in an email to a pal and they reply with “WTF are you talking about?” Yeah, baby. Makes me feel intelligent!

This fuzzy state of mind often happens when I have a new release. Promotion adds to the amount of things I have to accomplish in a specific time period. It boggles my mind how many blogs and interviews I write and/or fill out during these blocks of time. Not to mention researching what sites and newsletters have the best bang for the buck when it comes to advertising--talk about time consuming!

Oh, let’s not forget research. Although many authors hate research and therefore keep their stories based on topics they’re familiar with, I’m a glutton for punishment. Combine that with my insatiable curiosity and I inadvertently create more work for myself. (Actually, I wrote an article this month on easy ways to research for new paranormal creature ideas HERE if you’d like to check it out.)

I get so wrapped up in research that I’m stunned at how much time passes when I finally come to my duh-veiled senses and realize I need a bathroom break, food, and m-m-m-m-more c-c-c-c-coffee. Actually, whenever I would go to night courses and study for exams, I would be drained like this, too.

Historical stuff and paranormal/mythological research is what sucks me in the most. The amount of information on both the web and in print format is phenomenal. I gotta read it all, I gotta know what this is and what that is and…and…

Ahem.

Sorry. Had a li’l melt down. I was wondering why I kept seeing sparks pop out of my ears.

Anyway, when I do get everything done and emailed/mailed, I always realize just how hungry I've become. Seriously, it's like I've worked for three days straight digging ditches with only bread and water to sustain me. In fact, I get so hungry the cat takes one look at me and runs like hell for the nearest exit, hitting mach 10 as his tail bursts into flames. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that mental work doesn’t burn calories because it does! I’m not talking about wanting junk food. Oh, no. Give me a damn prime rib and make it snappy. And if I've been really stressed, I want a glass of wine or maybe something stouter, and a meal that would make a king go, “Whoa, baby. I might not be able to eat it all, but I’m sure as hell gonna try.”

Later, sated and having had a good night’s sleep, I’m ready to tackle the next list of writing projects.

With all that said, I’ll hope you take a look at my newest release. It’s a full novel that sweepsthe reader from Columbus, Ohio to Key West--and it is available today in paperback! However, if you have an e-reader, you can get "RUBY" at most e-book distributors, but the links to several dif ones are posted below. This novel has transformed over the last eight years, so it’s very special to me.

Ruby, the White King and Marilyn Monroe is a paranormal romance that takes off full throttle as demonic motorcycles and their beautiful riders chase Ruby to the rocky shores of Key West for a battle of epic proportions.

Are they angels, demons, or something else entirely? Ruby must send them back to a hell unlike anything the world has ever imagined. But will she allow herself to love the White King who has found her again over one thousand years later?

Blurb:
Reincarnated over the centuries. Stuck with a ditzy Marilyn Monroe lookalike. Falling for a rich albino guy. It’s just Ruby’s luck for Hell’s “real” angels to ride into this life and screw it all up.

A quote from author Maddie James:

Packed with action, each scene moving forward at a clip-clop pace, don’t blink your eyes once or miss a single paragraph of Ruby, the White King, and Marilyn Monroe. For if you do, you are sure to miss a piece of this literary puzzle!

One serendipitous meeting after another takes Ruby, her white king, and her quirky, hitchhiker friend Maureen on a frightening quest to get to Key West. With paranormal elements throughout, the sexual tension high, and the edge-of-the-seat factor not to be ignored, I could not stop reading until I reached the very end.—Maddie James, Romance Author www.maddiejames.net

You can read an excerpt at any of the following buy links:


TMP: http://bit.ly/oOhD3Y
ARe: http://bit.ly/rrlPTU
Kindle: http://amzn.to/rpvrA8
Bookstrand: http://bit.ly/rfTlsX

And here's the current paperback link but the book will appear at Amazon and BandN in a few days (scroll to bottom for print): http://bit.ly/oOhD3Y

Releasing Tomorrow!

Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing


ISBN: 9781419929519
MSRP/List Price: $13.98
Our Cover Price: $6.99

Release Date: November 10, 2010

Drawn to the attic in her new home, Amelia finds a saucy nineteenth-century wench dress. At first glance, it’s just a dress, but once she dons it, desire streaks through her and she’s transported to the past. Overwhelmed by lust, she is caught pleasuring herself, discovered by the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen, who turns out to be—her lover?

Amelia and Emmet join in an explosive sexual union, erasing the months—or is it centuries?—they have been apart as though they never existed. But suddenly Amelia awakes—alone.

Until the dress calls again.

Emmett’s not the only one lusting after Amelia. Lord Graham wants her and he doesn’t fight fair. He kidnaps her, sends Emmett on a deadly errand and forces Amelia to participate in his voyeuristic games. Although Amelia’s body betrays her, she vows to remain true to Emmett, but will he return? And can she escape the clutches of Lord Graham’s debauchery?

Amidst subterfuge, treachery and murder, Amelia and Emmet’s love grows and they reach new heights of carnal passions.

EXCERPT:

Emmett ignored her, only sliding his hands to span her stomach. His mouth covered one nipple, teeth lightly nipping, and the shock nearly had her opening her eyes. He sucked, tugging on the taut peak the way she liked, as she knew he would. She cried out, almost reaching her pain threshold. Emmett eased the pressure a little, then sucked and reared his head back once more, the torment too much for her, too intense.

“Stop, I…”

He let her nipple go. It ached, and despite wanting the sweet torture to end, she longed for more. As though picking up on her thoughts, he tongued her nipple, sucking it as before. Amelia clasped her hands together tighter, wanting to cry out yet at the same time testing herself to see how far she could go. He pulled harder, his fingers stroking her waist, circling her navel, and she clenched her cunt, willed herself not to gasp.

She failed, snatching in air.

Breast free of his mouth, she lifted her pelvis, needing him to cater to her throbbing bud. The mattress dipped again as he shuffled his knees farther down the bed then settled between her legs, the heat of his breath on her slit forcing the air out of her lungs. Her torso juddered beneath his questing fingers and she itched to pinch her nipples. Instead, she squeezed her hands again. His tongue parted her. The tip swirled around her nub and a blaze of sensation warmed the folds.

“Oh God, Emmett…”

“I’m going to sup your cream. Lick you, make you want me so much you can’t breathe.”

He flattened his tongue, licking her with quick strokes, fingers smoothing down her body to widen her slit. She bucked as he worked faster, exquisite waves of pleasure ebbing and flowing in and around her bud. Panting, she writhed, unclasping her hands and gripping the headboard spindles. She dug her nails into her palms, the bite adding to her excitement. Tongue flicking from side to side, Emmett brought her to the brink of orgasm then stopped, kissing her mound and her lower belly. She hissed out between clenched teeth, frustrated but knowing when he touched her there again the pleasure would be stronger. He took his mouth from her belly and didn’t move. She waited, eyes still closed, and listened to the sounds around them—their breaths, a creaking bed downstairs, faint moans from customers, footsteps on the wooden floor below. She longed to open her eyes, to see whether he studied her, but at the same time not knowing suited her. And she waited, her heart picking up speed, her wet nub throbbing in time with it. God, how she wanted to let go and slide her hands into his hair, pushing his mouth down onto her slit, directing his movements and orchestrating the pressure. To tell him to sup her now, beg if she had to. But she remained silent, confident he knew exactly when to begin again.

At last, movement! He hooked his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her, setting her lower half on his thighs. His balls rested against her ass, their softness and warmth arousing her beyond measure. Emmett brushed his hands up and down her legs, thumbs skating close to her thatch each time he reached the top. When he drew away she almost cried out in frustration, wanting more of the touch of his fingertips beside her mound. He leaned back to caress her shins, then her calves and she loosed a strangled moan. God, he teased her so! She needed his hands higher up, at her nub, which pulsed and swelled with every passing second. Sliding his hands beneath her knees, he pushed so her legs bent and she placed her feet beside him on the bed. He spread her legs and she could only imagine the sight of herself open for his viewing.

“Beautiful, wench. Beautiful.”

Her stomach flipped at the hoarseness of his voice, a voice that belied the fact he was in control. He was close, she sensed it, and it wouldn’t be long before he could hold back no longer and plunged inside her. She hoped it would be soon, because she was close to coming herself. The slowness of his actions had brought her to a high state of arousal, and just the slightest touch now might send her over the edge.

Thumbs sliding up and down each lip of her slit, Emmett tortured Amelia some more. She jolted, eyes nearly springing open, and waited to feel what he would do next. He placed his thumbs together then glided them down to her opening, easing them inside with his fingers splayed over her mound. He pressed his thumbs and fingers together, her pelvic bone in between, and moved his thumbs up and down the upper wall of her sheath. Suddenly, he curved his thumb tips and touched something deep inside her, a place he had never been before. A sharp sensation had her abdomen jerking and she almost, almost opened her eyes.

“Did you like that?” he asked, dragging his thumbs down then returning them to that place, pressing there with his fingers.

The sensation came again, and now he concentrated on the area, rubbing what felt like a ridge inside her. She nodded, wondering what would happen if he kept stroking. Amelia didn’t have to wait long before successive shots of fierce pleasure momentarily took away her ability to breathe.

“I told you I’d take away your breath. Good. That feels good, doesn’t it, wench?”

She nodded and gasped, riding out the new feelings his thumbs produced. As the bite receded, her bud still throbbing and in need of attention, he eased his thumbs out and gripped her waist. Without warning, he thrust his cock inside her, fucking her hard and fast. She clenched her sheath around him, gripped the bed spindles tighter and gave in to the rising tide.

“Ah, wench!” he ground out.

His firm thrusts nudged her up the bed and she crossed her ankles at his lower back, her whole body tingling with excitement. Juices coated his cock, the length of him gliding in and out easily, the aroma of sex heightening her desire. She came, bucking, keening, emotions running so high they overwhelmed her with their intensity. Emmett’s low moans and grunts brought on another wave of pleasure and her cunt ached with it. Wet heat filled her and her lover loosed a strangled yell, pushing into her with short jabs as he emptied himself into her contracting sheath. He slowed to a stop and lowered his body to hers, brushing her cheeks with sweet kisses.

Amelia opened her eyes, staring into his. Love shone from him and she wanted so much to tell him how she felt, but the words wouldn’t come, halted by the lump in her throat.

I love you, Emmett Dray. Love you…