"Gabrielle Holly spins her stories in a way that will take you on an emotional rollercoaster you'll never forget!"
~Paranormal Romance Junkies

Saturday, July 28, 2012


The following Mr. Fix It excerpt is from Deena's second erotic encounter with sexy handyman, Bill.
(Please note this book is formatted for London-based publisher Total-E-Bound. All spellings are UK English)
She trailed her hand down his chest and through the valley between his marble-cut abs. She played her fingers down through the line of hair. 
     “Mmm,” he answered.
     His erection lay against his flat belly. She tentatively touched the head of his cock. She let her fingers brush over the shaft. She longed to taste him. She kissed his chest, pointing her tongue and fluttering over one of his tiny, hardened nipples. She meandered down his body, savouring the hard muscles that stretched beneath the velvet skin of his belly. She licked the valleys of the six pack that her fingers had just moments before explored. At the first tickle of his belly hair, Deena paused and played, nibbling until she elicited his frustrated groan. She slid her head down his body, letting her curls tease his abdomen. When her lips were close to his engorged cock head, she paused, letting her breath be felt. She was empowered by his moans. With her face resting on his hard belly, she stretched out her tongue and found the top of the head. She teased, flicking it tentatively. She flattened the tip of her tongue and wiggled it into the slit. She lightly traced the ridge behind the glans. His hips responded with a subtle rise. Deena moistened her lips and, when they were slick, she made her mouth mimic a tight, wet pussy, and then pushed down over the head. She wrapped her hand around the shaft and slowly stroked him as her mouth engulfed the bulbous head. She relaxed her throat and took in as much of him as she could. She let her saliva lubricate her hand as she slid it up and down. His response thrilled her. She swivelled her body until she was straddling his thighs, never taking her mouth from his glorious rod. His pelvis thrust to meet her tantalising play. 

     When Bill’s cock was hard and slick, she slithered up his body and, holding his engorged cock, she manoeuvred it between her heavy breasts. She pressed them together around his hardness and began to slide up and down. She looked up and saw him watching her in the dim light. She became an exhibitionist, turned on by his erotic appreciation. Deena committed herself to making him come between her big tits.
Bill seemed to have other plans. He hooked his big hands under her arms and dragged her on top of him. She hoped that he would slide his thick, hard cock inside her and her pussy throbbed and grew wetter at the thought. Instead, he flipped her on her back and lay, full weight, on top of her, kissing her hard. He gathered her wrists over her head and held them with one strong hand while his other slid over her chest, her belly, her thighs. He forced open her legs with his own and then began kissing her body in a frenzy. He kissed her face, her eyelids, her mouth. He sucked hard at her neck and then drew a line with his tongue over her collarbones and down her sternum. He grabbed a breast in each hand and mouthed each in turn, sucking and nibbling her nipples until her own hips undulated in anticipation.
     He kissed and bit an excruciatingly hot line down her belly until he’d reached the triangle of pubic hair. He roughly forced her legs farther apart and then pressed his face against her pussy. He kneaded her soft thighs with his hands while his tongue teased along her slit.  Deena’s clit had grown hard and was cresting through her labia. She pressed her hips upward, unashamed at her longing. She silently pleaded with him to touch the straining nub with his lips or his tongue or his fingers, she didn’t care which, but she thought she would scream if he didn’t make contact…

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Writing about Sex… Keeping the Magic Alive

Depending on which writer you ask, bringing a book from concept to completion can take weeks, or months or years. Some methodically outline each beat, others plunge in at “Once Upon a Time” and eventually wind up at “Happily Ever After”. I fall somewhere to the left of center on both counts; it takes me a couple of months to write a book and I sketch out a rough (very rough, really) course before I type the first word.
I love writing the first draft. It’s like a new romantic relationship – all flowers and butterflies and spontaneity. I learn something new about my characters every day and we go on thrilling adventures on the spur of the moment. Once we get to our destination, we know each other pretty well and we can sit calmly and reminisce. The beauty of this relationship is we get to rewrite history until it’s entertaining and everything makes sense. We enter the first round of editing:
“Remember when you said that thing to that person?” I’ll ask my character. “Why did you say that? That isn’t like you at all!” highlight>revise
“And that time when you did that thing? That was really boring and completely irrelevant.” highlight>right click>cut
“Oh, and, nothing personal, but it would have been so romantic/funny/sexy if you’d only…” insert romantic/funny/sexy dialogue/action/scene
Once I’ve got my story on the straight and narrow, I run it by an objective observer. It’s kind of like chatting about guys over wine with girlfriends, only an editor will always tell you if the guy is a jerk, or boring or irrelevant. And, they’re usually right.
The funny thing is, if it really was meant to be, this review – and re-review – can be wonderful, like going through a scrapbook and weeding out all the extraneous crap until it’s distilled down to the best snapshots of the most memorable moments. This part of the relationship takes much longer than the honeymoon phase.
But the honeymoon doesn’t have to be, shouldn’t be, over! Without exception, getting a book ready for publication has been a joy – tough yes – but a joy all the same. My love for my characters deepens with every read-through.
Of course, we’re talking about erotic romance here, which adds another dimension to the process. I have to take an honest look at the story and ask, “After all this time together, is the sex still good?” When I’m poring over my manuscript - methodically checking for continuity and punctuation – I expect to be turned on. I don’t care if I’ve read an erotic scene a dozen times, I still want the butterflies and goose bumps and weak knees and world-rocking climax. I want it to feel like the first time, every time.
I hope that when you read my books you fall in love with my characters and that they’ll rock your world. Think of me as your virtual matchmaker. Today I’d like to set you up with hot, sexy ex-pro football player Jesse Williams. He lives upstairs from set- and costume-designer Franny Campbell. Franny has a very active imagination and Jesse has starred in some of her most erotic daydreams. Franny has imagined Jesse as a barbaric Viking warrior, a mischievous stagecoach bandit and a brooding Scottish lord. Check out how hot daydream Jesse can be, and find out if Franny will ever learn if real-life Jesse can live up to his fantasy counterparts in Dressed for Success, out today from Resplendence Publishing.
Sweet Daydreams, Darlings!
xoxo ~Gabrielle

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Listening to Your Characters – Following the Path of Least Resistance

I love spinning a yarn. Once I get the germ of an idea (usually in the shower, by the way) I can’t wait to sit down and start writing. The characters come to me like gregarious strangers. They’re more than willing to introduce themselves and give me a glimpse inside their noggins. We sit down, sometimes over coffee and sometimes over cocktails, and chat. They willingly tell me about the current drama in their lives and ask, would I mind terribly, jotting it down.
That’s the easy part.
As long as they’re affable strangers with the gift of gab, the words flow. It’s only when I start forcing their hand that things get dicey. I don’t want to imply that I do some kind of voodoo automatic writing inspired from outside myself. Writing is as much craft as it is art. A person can’t plow willy-nilly into a story and hope to emerge with a book.
Once I have a starting point, I loosely map out a course to the end. I only run into trouble when I unsheathe my machete and start hacking through the underbrush trying to find a shortcut to the destination. The best plan is to pack wisely and follow the locals, hollering if they get too far ahead.
I’m a night or two away from finishing the first draft on book two in my paranormal erotic romance series. I wrote the first sentence knowing my main characters, where they’d be hanging out, and basically what they’d be doing. Now as I’m closing in on the last sentence, I’m grateful for where those characters have taken me. They’ve led me down hidden paths I didn’t even know existed. These narrow trails didn’t require a machete – only an open mind.
I love these characters and I hope you will too. Book one in my paranormal erotic romance series will be out in November through Total-E-Bound and book two should follow a couple of months later.
In the meantime, I hope you’ll get to know some of my other new friends. Franny Campbell is a set- and costume-designer for television and stage productions. She has a very active imagination and her hot erotic fantasies most often star her upstairs neighbor, the extremely sexy ex-pro-jock Jesse Williams. Franny imagines him as a Viking warrior, a stagecoach bandit and a Scottish lord. Will Franny ever find out if real-life Jesse lives up to her fantasy lovers? Find out July 18th when her story, “Dressed for Success”, comes out at Resplendence Publishing.

A week later, Deena Stevens’ story comes out at Total-E-Bound. “Mr. Fix It” is a fun, funny, smokin’ hot read about quirky, curvy Deena and her surprising history with sexy handyman Bill. After their unexpected reunion, Bill promises to keep in touch with Deena. He shows up at her door and a night of incomparable passion leaves them both craving more.  When the neighborhood queen bee discovers their tryst she begins crafting a plan to destroy the new love affair and steal the sexy handyman for herself. Will Mr. Fix-It have what it takes to repair the damage? Find out July 23rd. Pre-order is available now!
Happy Trails, Darlings! 
xoxo ~Gabrielle

Sunday, July 8, 2012

EXCERPT ALERT: Hot Contempory Romantic Comedy "Dressed for Success"


Dressed for Success will be out July 18th from Resplendence Publishing!
It's a HOT, fun read about daydreamer Franny Campbell and her upstairs neighbor, ex-pro jock Jesse Williams.
Jesse is the unwitting star of Franny's elaborate fantasies. She's imagined the sexy blond as a barbaric Viking warrior, a mischievous stagecoach bandit, and a brooding Scottish lord. Will she ever find out if real-life Jesse lives up to her fantasy lovers?

The excerpt below is from Franny's fantasy of Jesse as a Viking warrior.  This excerpt contains explicit sexual references and is intended for adults only.

    The Viking trudged into the water without testing its temperature. The surface frothed against his thickly muscled calves as he took long strides toward her. He stopped when the water reached his knees, his broad chest heaving. She dropped her eyes and focused on his long, thick penis, standing erect and nearly brushing his taut belly. Her own belly contracted in fear and anticipation. The place between her legs throbbed.
    She stepped forward and closed her eyes while she passed through the curtain of water. She opened them again when the fall was behind her, and without its veil, she saw him clearly. He was magnificent! His face was intent and beautiful. His body was perfectly formed. He didn’t move, but a gust of wind blew back his hair and an amber bead, one that matched her secret gift, glinted in the sunlight.
    The two faced each other in the pool, mere paces apart. Her body thrummed. He seemed like a totem. She longed to walk up to him, to reach out and touch the carved ridges and valleys, to play her fingers over him. She was so mesmerized by his beauty that she was startled when he reached out his hand. He stood for a timeless moment, arm outstretched, his palm upturned. She was propelled forward by a force outside of reason.
    She walked to him, extending her own hand until it rested in his. He closed his fingers around hers then reached out with his other hand and found the braid behind her ear. He drew it through his fingers until he reached the amber bead at the end. A wicked smile animated his handsome face, and she drew in an audible breath. The Viking slid his hand down the side of her face until he cupped her jaw. He tilted up her chin and bent to kiss her. He didn’t ask permission. That they were both there, together in the pool, was permission enough.  His mouth crushed against hers, and she kissed him back, pulling her hand from his and wrapping her arms around his neck. She knew that her willing response thrilled him and that empowered her.
    She was beginning to believe she had complete sway over the Viking when he suddenly yanked her hands from his neck, bent until his cheek pressed into her side at the waist and jerked upward, slinging her over his shoulder. He turned and sloshed back to the shore, back to the place where he had shed his clothes. He lowered her to her feet then turned his back to her while he spread his cloak on the ground and knelt to arrange it. If ever there were an opportunity for her to flee, this was it. Instead, she stood motionless, tethered to the spot by her attraction to him. She watched his bare back, mesmerized by the way his muscles slid beneath the taut skin. She watched his broad hands smooth the fabric and was moved by the care he took. 
    The Viking sat back on his heels and laid his palms flat against his thick thighs. He dropped his chin to his chest for a moment before turning his head and looking up at her. His stare held her fast, and she was aware of her own heartbeat sounding in her ears. Her eyes didn’t leave his, but at the edge of her vision, she saw one of his hands lift from his thigh. He reached out to her. She laid her hand in his, and he closed his around it. With the slightest pressure of his fingers, he led her as if in a dance. Without a word, he spoke to her.
    She stepped onto the cloak and, when she faced him, he urged her downward with a gentle pull. She sat back on her heels, mirroring his posture, their knees two hand’s lengths apart. He gathered up her other hand and lifted up off of his heels, taking her with him. Now, they touched at the thighs and the hips. His cock pressed into her soft belly. Her heavy breasts pressed against his hard chest. She looked up at him, and his mouth found hers.
    With their lips still pressed together, she slid her hands from his and smoothed her fingers up his arms, over the rise of his thick shoulder muscles then downward until her palms were flattened over his chest. She pulled her mouth from his and leaned back so she could look over his body. She dragged her fingers downward, and they found the valleys of his hard belly muscles. She traced each forged line. Her hands reached the head of his cock, and with her thumbs, she followed the deep ridge behind the head. She let her fingertips flutter down over the hard shaft, and she mapped each bulging vein. She was so engrossed in her study of him that his moan startled her.
    With one hand wrapped around his cock, she reached up to touch the stubble of his flaxen beard. Her eyes met his, and she anticipated his question. He was about to ask her name. She wondered how his voice would sound, and if she would understand his language, but before he could speak, she slid her hand behind his head and pulled his mouth onto hers.
    His hands slid down her back and cupped her ass. He squeezed the soft flesh, and she drew in a hard breath. Where his touch had been restrained before, now his energy surged. He pressed one palm between her shoulder blades and laid her back on the cloak. He planted a broad hand near each of her shoulders and hovered over her. She thrilled at his looming masculinity. The place between her legs throbbed and grew wetter. She longed to feel him inside her...  

Thursday, July 5, 2012

“Dressed for Success” will be out July 18th from

I can't wait to introduce you Franny Campbell and Jesse Williams. Our hero is an ex-pro football player and upstairs neighbor to sassy, curvy set- and costume-designer Franny Campbell.

For two years Jesse has been the star of Franny's hot costume-drama fantasies. She's imagined him as a Viking warrior, a stagecoach bandit and a Scottish lord.  Will she ever find out if real-life Jesse lives up to her fantasy lovers?

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Writing About Sex - A Sense of Place - How My Ghost Characters Told Me Their Names

Last summer I'd passed through a nearby Mississippi River town and fell in love with an old, abandoned building on Main Street. The date carved into the sandstone pediment is A.D.1888. Half of the windows are boarded over, the red brick is crumbling, and the wood trim is nearly devoid of paint. The moment I saw it I told my travelling companion, "That's the setting for Book 2 in my paranormal romance series."

"It's falling apart!" he said.

"I know. It's perfect."

I'd snapped a couple of photos with my cellphone and, once home, I searched the Internet for more pictures of the tiny downtown area. I printed out a couple of the shots and hung them near my desk.

When I was 12,000 words into the book (about half way) I became hopelessly stalled. Two pivotal characters - the ghosts of star-crossed lovers - still remained nameless and I couldn't work out the logistics of a certain scene. I tried to focus on the task at hand, but that building would not let me concentrate. I had to go see it in person again. Immediately.

It was not an ideal day to be out and about. The Midwest was in the midst of a seemingly endless heat wave. The air conditioning in my Jeep is broken and the temperature that afternoon was well over 90-degrees. I'm usually a bit of a wimp when it comes to uncomfortable weather, but I was absolutely certain that I had to spend some time up close and personal with this freakin' building if I was ever going to get any more writing done. 

I was cranky and overheated by the time I arrived in the historic district. The building sits on a corner and I walked first one block and then the other. I looked at it from across the street and then from the alley. I walked up the steps, ran my hand along the facade, and peered into windows. I spent a good hour viewing and photographing the building from every angle. I got close-ups of the disrepair and wide angles to illustrate the building's place on the block.

Satisfied that I had everything I needed to carry on, I started to head back to my car. The street slopes down to the river and I'd parked near the end of the block. I was almost to the car when that crumbling old building, called to me again. I felt a little silly trudging back up the hill and pulling out my camera again, but I was absolutely compelled to do so.

The sun had moved across the sky in the hour I'd been poking around and on this second trip up the hill, it hit the side of the brick building at a new angle. I was able to see that names had been scratched into some of the bricks. Two of them were side by side and written in the same straight-angled style: "Vinnie" and "Daisy". 

There they were, the names of my two ghost-lovers. I snapped a photo of each etched brick and headed back down the hill. By the time I reached the car, I'd worked out the logistics problem with the scene I'd been writing. It was as if once I knew Vinnie's and Daisy's names, I could tell their story.



With Love and Gratitude for Your Support... xoxo Gabrielle