New Release! Imperative 3: Saving You!

TITLE: IMPERATIVE: SAVING YOU
AUTHOR: Belinda McBride
AUTHOR URL: http://www.belindamcbride.com/
GENRE/THEME: Futuristic, Fantasy, Bisexual
PUBLISHER: Changeling Press
RELEASE DATE: January 16, 2009
URL TO THE BUYING PAGE: http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1065
EXCERPT RATING: PG13
WARNINGS: adult language and situations

In the future, we don’t choose our mates; Nature chooses for us. Nature doesn’t make mistakes. And if you don’t pay attention to Nature’s Imperative, you suffer.

All he wanted was peace. Eternal peace.

After the death of his Imperative mate, Jason Anders threw himself into a lifestyle of sexual excess and self-punishment. Just when he thought he’d hit rock bottom, Jase was nearly killed in a brutal attack.

Nature listened to Jason’s plea for peace, and gave him what he asked for. But Nature’s version of peace wasn’t exactly what Jase expected.

When Dr. Dove Sinclair stumbled into his life, Jase began to suspect that within her arms he might find the will to live. And when he looked into the haunting eyes of a mysterious masked man, Jason realized that Nature wasn’t finished screwing with his life.

Sometimes Nature doesn’t play fair. But at least she’s willing to give Jason a second chance.

EXCERPT:

“I was rough. I’m sorry.”

He fingered a pink spot on her hip. There was a whisker burn at her throat.

“It felt good. Right at that moment, it was perfect.”

“Pain? You like pain during sex?”

“Not pain… not like… you know.” The name went unspoken.

He sat up in the bed, her white sheets slipping down his flat, muscular belly. Dove watched him in unabashed fascination. She’d managed to rescue her glasses and now marveled at the sheer beauty of the man in her bed.

He looked devilish, and during sex, he was devilish, to just the right, exact degree she needed. Once their initial rush of lust had receded, they’d napped, waking to find more pleasure with one another.

He was more than adequate with his tongue, and with those fingers as well. He’d introduced her to the dark variety of climax that came with anal penetration, though he’d used only fingers there while he fucked her pussy. They didn’t speak of what he was really preparing her for. They showered together in the darkness, exploring with hands and mouths, finally ending up sliding together on the slick floor of the huge shower, wet skin slapping against skin, skidding against the cool tile.

It had been perverse, amazing, and to her shock, she wanted more.

Not pain, not like… you know… He did know. He’d witnessed it often enough. “He doesn’t get sexual pleasure from it.” Arav felt defensive of Jase. Protective.

Dove leaned forward, stroking the gleaming black of his goatee. “I know he doesn’t, Arav.” Her fingers skimmed over his lips. The sensation caused a shiver.

“How long have I known you, Dove?” He reached out, pulled her into his arms. They had only hours before dawn, and time for her to work.

“I don’t know, six months maybe? Why?”

“Because I love you.”

“Yesterday you loved Jason.”

He kissed her forehead. “I love Jason as well. Odd, isn’t it?” He looked down at her, dark eyes gleaming. Immediately, she thought of her brother Duncan and his mates. But for her and Arav, there was no Imperative forcing the issue. Just love.

“I’m afraid to say it, but I think it’s true.”

“That it’s odd?”

“No. It’s true that I love you also.”

“And you love Jason as well.”

She was quiet for a moment. “No, I don’t think I love Jason. He frightens me too much.”
He shifted, looking at her curiously. “Why, Dove? Why are you afraid of Jase? He’d never hurt you.”

He had injured Neil. She’d heard that little bit of information from Duncan, who was good friends with Jason’s ex-lover. But somehow, she knew he’d never hurt her, not physically.

“I’m afraid that Jason would break my heart. In the end, I’m afraid he’ll break us both.” She looked up at him, and she was beautiful there in the darkness, her skin gleaming pearl white. “Arav, I’m afraid that Jason Anders has already broken my heart.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think I can save him.” And she did love him, and knew damn well that Jase was too wrapped up in pain to love her back.

Well, at least she’d admitted it to herself.

She laid her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling his strength, his innate kindness.

“You’re wrong, Dove. But you’re right.” She lay still, waiting for him to continue. “Only Jason can save himself. It’s up to us to show him a reason.”

“And that is?”

“Us.” He stroked her hair. “We’re the reason that Jason Anders should live.”

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1065

http://www.belindamcbride.com/
http://www.belindam.blogspot.com/

Boy, am I a proud mother! Today's post is completely off the topic of writing, and all about my family!

My oldest, Amanda just won the Culinary Competition at the prestigious St Martin Boat Show!

She had just gone through a really difficult patch of time, and decided to take this new, more challenging position aboard a high end charter yacht called the Namoh. She and her sister Amelia had just crewed a yacht from San Francisco to Mexico...poor Mia was hoping to enter the yachting industry, but on the trip, she discovered that she gets seasick in high seas! Well...fine by me. One child out of the country is enough.

Well, anyhow, they got to San Diego and Mia had to leave the boat for solid ground, while Amanda continued to Mexico. Once she arrived, a message was waiting that she'd been offered a new position back in the Caribbean, so the next thing I know, she was in Florida starting the new job. To her chagrin, she found that the Namoh was entered in the St Martin Boat Show, and SHE was entered in the culinary competion. Now Amanda has won cooking comptitions before, but this pool of competition is way out of her class...or so she thought! LOL! I love the photos they took of her during the judging, Amanda has never had a poker face, and every emotion is there for you to see. LOL!

Amanda won best overall chef in Division 2, (yachts up to 145 feet long) she and her staff won best place setting, best service, and the entire crew won best ambience. Quite the achievement!

If you'd like to see some images of her winning meal, here are some links:

Prepping the entree: http://www.collages.net/store/emailedphoto2.asp?uniqueproduct=95398590

Prepping the dessert: http://www.collages.net/store/emailedphoto2.asp?uniqueproduct=95398615

Dessert ready for presentation: http://www.collages.net/store/emailedphoto2.asp?uniqueproduct=95398639

Presenting and defending: http://www.collages.net/store/emailedphoto2.asp?uniqueproduct=95398624

Anxiety- waiting as the judges begin: http://www.collages.net/store/emailedphoto2.asp?uniqueproduct=95398625

Damn! I think they like me! http://www.collages.net/store/emailedphoto2.asp?uniqueproduct=95398623

Winner of place Best Place Setting, Best Ambience, and Best Service: http://www.collages.net/store/emailedphoto2.asp?uniqueproduct=95398634

Crew of the Namoh: http://www.collages.net/store/emailedphoto2.asp?uniqueproduct=95398659

Award Ceremony: http://www.collages.net/store/emailedphoto2.asp?uniqueproduct=95026331

Thanks for letting a proud mom brag!

Belinda

www.belindamcbride.com

The Care and Feeding of the Romance Writer

Whether it’s in an interview, a live chat, or an author’s corner, there’s one question I get asked more than any other: “Where do you come up with your ideas?”

Most writers have their answers, ranging from dreams to song lyrics to spontaneous explosions in the frontal lobe. Really. For myself, there is no set answer, I often free-associate. I’ll see an image, that leads to a thought, which leads to another thought, and then a scenario begins to take shape.

I used to think that I had a pretty rich imagination, till I entered the world of speculative fiction. Now I’m humbled on a pretty regular basis, and even further humbled that I speak to many of these brilliant people on a daily basis. So needless to say, blogging about creativity feels a little wrong. But there are a few things tossing around in my brain.

So, you want to write a story. You have an idea there in your head, but it hasn’t come to fruition, or you simply have that pent-up, frustrated need to say something…to express yourself. Where do you look for inspiration? How do you convince the Muse to whisper in your ear, to light that spark in your heart?

Hmmm…good question.

I’m feeling pretty dry these days. October was its usual brutal self, reminding me that all the really awful things in my life happen in October. November just reminded me that the holidays are coming and I’m broke, because of some awful thing that happened in October. And December…don’t you just want to kick her jolly red butt?

Hey…there’s a story there somewhere…

I pried the January novella from my hard drive and sent it in, now I have to come up with something for my March slot. I’ve got the beginnings of three novellas and none of them want to fly. I’m frustrated, angry. I’d spit at my screen, but in all likelihood, the goober would run down and short out the laptop. I yell at the dog, who decided that the laptop is simply and extension of my lap.

I give up and go lie down, pull the covers over my head and try for a nap.
Paydirt. There it is, the missing element to that Vamp novel. Right there in Technicolor and surround-sound. But it’s not my priority right now. I get up and take notes, my nap aborted by my imagination.

Back to the computer, and instead of writing, I go wandering around the stock image sites. Again, paydirt. There’s my werewolf, looking at me with ominous splendor. Quick as a wink, his personality quirks come into the picture; his character sheet begins to fill out. He wears black silk shirts and a bolero hat like Stevie Ray Vaughn used to favor. He was a high school music teacher, but lost his job because the girls (and some boys) couldn’t deal with his potent pheromones. He’s macho, virile, and so very shy. The principal’s daughter hid in his car after school, showing up in his house later that night.

Good thing he plays the guitar.

Back to mental wandering. I go out and take a walk in the newly frigid air. We’re having a cold snap, and it feels good to stretch my legs and look at the changing landscape. How did people cope with Redding before air conditioning and central heating? Brutal hot summers and wet, miserable winters. I think about my family before they came to California, when they lived on the reservation in Washington, and how during the winter, the baby’s wet diapers froze on the clothesline inside the house.

I swear to everyone that a day doesn’t go by when I don’t write something. Well, that’s true, I’ve written two blog entries today, but I haven’t worked on a story for quite some time. That’s because my creative self needs a re-charge now and then. Just because I’m not writing doesn’t me that I’m not creating. This week has been personal. My daughter called from St Maarten with the stunning news that she won a huge, international culinary competition. In between Googleing her pictures and talking on the phone, I cobbled together a book video, spent time at a chat, and made some jewelry while watching Ghost Hunters.

While all this is going on, a story is growing at the back of my mind; characters are taking shape, dialogue bubbles through my awareness. In a day or three, I’ll be back at the keyboard, completely oblivious to the annual misery of October and the dry spell that followed. March’s novella will go in; I’ll meet that April deadline, and continue to develop my workshop project.
Do you sort of see where I’m going here? Writing is a discipline. Most arts are. It’s hard work. You will not accomplish anything unless you put your hands on the keyboard and start.

But there is also an element of creativity, when you simply must unleash your mind, turn it loose to wander and process and scramble things around. You must feed your mind, as surely as you feed your body; exercise your brain, or that muscle will become weak. Nurture your soul as the precious treasure that it is. Tend to your body, feed it well, take it for walks, (or work-outs) and get enough sleep.

So here is your tip for the day: Take fifteen minutes every day that is “between time.” On your way home from work, stop at a park or somewhere else that inspires you. Simply sit and be alone for those fifteen minutes. Read a bit of a book, write some poetry, pray, meditate, or do whatever eases your soul.

If you work from home like I do, leave. Go out and get away for a few minutes. I like to go to the lookout over Shasta Dam, it’s close to home, safe, and the view of the Three Shasta’s is beautiful.
That’s it. Fifteen minutes of between time. A little daily gift to yourself.

http://www.belindamcbride.com/
www.myspace.com/belindamcbride