How To Deal With Hate Mail
Note: I’m not a security professional. I’m also not a lawyer. This is my experience and my opinion only. If you receive a threatening message, contact the police immediately. Do NOT respond to that message. Do NOT engage the person sending the message.
I thought long and hard before writing this post. I’m usually happy-happy on this blog. I also know that talking about this problem will likely bring me to the attention of the unwell people causing this problem.
But recently I’ve seen posts shaming hate mail senders, posts about interacting (in a humorous way) with online scammers and creepers and it makes me nervous. The folks sending hate mails or creepy messages are either professional criminals or mentally unwell. Neither of these groups responds well to being mocked.
Why We Should Treat This Shit Seriously
Back in the early days of blogging, a buddy of mine was one of the few women posting in the very male-dominated business blogosphere. Many men liked that she was blogging. They supported her, cheered for her. Some men hated it. They wanted to hurt her blog. A few men, one in particular, hated not only her blog but my blogging buddy. They wanted to hurt her.
One hater sent her increasingly threatening and increasingly personal emails. He would show up, using different identities, at all of her online events. He knew things about her that she hadn’t posted. We refer to this now as online stalking.
My blogging buddy was worried. She mentioned it to some of her fellow bloggers. They told her that all bloggers have some unwell people following them, that it comes with the role, with being high profile. What they forgot to tell her was she should have been worried. She should have been taking precautions.
One night, she returned home after a meeting. The hater was waiting for her with a knife. He hurt her in all of the ways a man can hurt a woman. She survived. Barely. He went to jail. My blogging buddy was never the same. She moved. She changed her name. She stopped blogging. To this day, she doesn’t have an online presence (and I’m respecting that decision by not mentioning her name or the blog she once owned).
It Couldn’t Happen To Me
But-but-but, you say, I’m a baby writer/blogger/reviewer. No one knows I’m alive.
When I started my business blog (under another pen name), my first readers were women-hating men. When my first short story was published (Dragon Lord’s Mate), I attracted an unwell reader, a woman who regularly sent me hate mail.
If you’re online, you could attract one of these scary stalkers. If you’re a writer/blogger/reviewer, it increases your chances of being their target.
An Ounce Of Prevention
In an ideal world, we shouldn’t have to protect ourselves. We should be able to write or blog openly and feel safe doing so.
This isn’t the ideal world.
We can only control what WE do and what we can do is minimize the risks.
Consider…
– Using a pen name
– Using nicknames for your loved ones (like calling your hubby…well… hubby)
– Not posting your physical address. Instead, use a P.O. Box or your agent’s address or your publisher’s address (many publishers are fine with this)
– Not posting photos of your house
– Not posting other personal details like where you’re vacationing or where you work or where your kids go to school
– Saying ‘no’ to requests for personal information. I don’t share my photo or my address, two pieces of personal information many writing gurus say are musts to share. Most readers, reviewers, bloggers understand. They want to keep writers safe also.
This will not only make the personal information more difficult for a scary stalker to track down but it will tell you when threatening messages reach the ‘get your ass to a police station immediately and insist the police officers act on the threat’ level.
If your scary stalker mentions something you didn’t talk about on social media, he/she isn’t merely talking scary stuff, he/she is taking action. He/she is hunting you. You should take action also.
Hating Your Book vs Hating You
There’s a big difference between a reader hating your book and a reader hating you.
Hating Your Book
We’re writers. One of our goals is to inspire fierce emotion in readers. We’d prefer that this fierce emotion is love but sometimes it will be hate. Every story, even the much loved classics, have haters.
If you attract enough readers, some of them will send you messages about how much they loved your recent release and some of them will send you messages about how much they hated your recent release. These messages and the reader’s love/hate should be centered around your book and/or your characters, not you.
Many writers recommend not engaging these readers. I usually respond with a message like “Thank you for reading (my title). I’m sorry (my title) disappointed you. Every book I write, every character I explore is different. I hope you’ll like (my next release).” I don’t try to change the reader’s mind because I won’t. Her view of the book is set. Her view of me as a writer and as a person isn’t.
Note: If any of these messages make you feel unsafe in any way, contact the police. This includes love mail as well as hate mail.
Hating You
When the hate mail turns personal, don’t hesitate—Contact the police. If the sender talks about doing harm to you or to your loved ones or he/she mentions anything personal that you haven’t shared online, go to the police. Don’t mess around with this. Walk your ass into a police station.
Taking Action
If you feel unsafe, contact the police and explain what is going on. If your scary stalker knows personal things about you that he/she shouldn’t, stress that it is serious. Insist that the police take action. This is an extremely dangerous situation.
You should NOT take action on your own. I’ve spoken with many police officers over the years. One recommendation that remains constant and is stressed is NOT TO ENGAGE the scary stalker. Do NOT respond, in ANY way. That means no posting the message on Facebook, no public shaming (Even if the name of the sender is hidden or deleted, he/she is stalking you. He/she WILL see it.), no mocking the stalker.
What Readers Can Do
If your favorite writer/reviewer/blogger has a person hanging around them (online or physically) that you feel uncomfortable about, contact them. Ask them if they know the person.
If that favorite writer/reviewer/blogger is scared, recommend that she/he contact the police. Do NOT take action on your own. Do NOT engage the scary stalker. Do NOT share posts about the scary stalker. This will only make the situation worse.
Understand if your writing/reviewing/blogging buddy doesn’t wish to share her/his more personal information (an example would be giving you their address so you can send a holiday card to them). It is easy for a scary stalker to pretend to be you online and get the information through your friendship. Don’t give him/her that power.
The Good News
There is good news.
Most people who send hate mail don’t progress past that step. I receive at least one angry email a day and I haven’t been physically confronted by any of those senders. I still take each one seriously as you should but I’m not hiding out in an underground bunker.
The police are better trained to deal with these situations. They take hate mail seriously and they often have some great advice on how to handle it.
And the scary stalkers are the exception. Most of the folks in Romanceland are kind, supportive, wonderful people. They believe in love and optimism and hope. These are the readers we write for, the readers we should focus on.
Be safe!
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
He wants one night. I want forever.
Hit it and quit it—that’s Smoke Sheridan’s relationship philosophy. The tall, dark, and dangerous club owner never spends more than one night with any woman. He seduces the broken-hearted, leaving them with smiles on their faces and a sexual confidence other men can’t resist.
I need his services.
My boyfriend of four years dumped me because I’m a lousy lay. Smoke can help me win him back, teach me how to make my man writhe in ecstasy. I’ll show him such bliss, he’ll bellow my name in the dark of the night, want me with an all-consuming desire.
This sounds like a great plan. Except I see the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes, feel the wistfulness in his touch, experience the wanting in his embrace. The player isn’t as shallow as he appears.
And I’ve never been good at letting go.
One And Done contains inappropriate humor, very bad pickup lines, a BBW heroine who doesn’t know what she’s doing and a player who thinks he does.
This is a standalone story.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-oneanddone-2040641-340.html
On Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-and-done-cynthia-sax/1123809444
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-and-done-1
Topics: Writing Tips | Comments Off on How To Deal With Hate Mail
One And Done – Fourth Scene
One And Done is releasing on July 19th (it is available for pre-order now) and I’m sharing the first two chapters of this 300 page plus contemporary erotic romance.
Read the first scene here: http://tasteofcyn.com/2016/06/06/one-and-done-first-scene/
The next subway station—Osgoode—is mine. I exit, thankfully, alone. The flasher, my new friend, doesn’t follow me. I guess exposing himself along a street lined with law firms and a courthouse is too brazen even for him.
I stride to the building Edward works in, push my way though the glass revolving doors and enter the lobby. The space smells of bleach, the white tiled floor gleaming.
“Watch your step, Miss Jenelly.” Craig, the nighttime security guard, calls out from his post behind the reception desk. “The floor’s still wet.”
“I w—” I skid and flail my arms in the air, barely keeping upright. “I will.” I regain my footing and smile, feeling like an idiot. “Thank you.”
“You’re a hoot.” Craig laughs, his belly, encased in a tight gray uniform, jiggling. “I haven’t seen you in a while. I thought you were avoiding me.”
“Why would you think that?” I open the tin and offer him a cookie.
Craig peruses the selection and chooses the largest one. “Mr. Langston has been meeting you outside the office all this week.” He bites into the cookie, chews. “Usually you come in and say hello to me.”
I frown. “Edward has been working late all this week.” Hasn’t he? Doubt flickers inside me, which is ridiculous because Edward has never lied to me. “That’s why I’m here.” I close the cookie tin. “I want to surprise him.”
It’s Craig’s turn to frown. “But you saw him at dinner.”
“At dinner?” We haven’t eaten dinner together in months.
“Yeah.” The security guard’s forehead furrows. “I overheard Mr. Langston tell Mr. Barron, one of the partners, that he was meeting you for dinner at Paros. That’s a nice place.”
Paros is a nice place, the type of restaurant a lawyer wanting to impress clients would eat at. I relax. “He must have been meeting with a client.”
The lines on Craig’s face deepen. “He specifically said he was treating his woman to a romantic dinner for two.”
Many people walk through the law firm’s doors. Craig must have mixed up his conversations. I decide to be the bigger person, literally, and drop the issue. “Has Edward returned from that dinner?”
“Not yet.” The security guard pops the last piece of cookie into his mouth. “Are you certain he wasn’t meeting with you?”
Would I be here if he had met with me? “I’m certain.” I suppress my irritation. It’s not the security guard’s fault I’ve misplaced my boyfriend.
I’ve misplaced my boyfriend. This gives me an idea.
I dig my phone out of my pocket and select the tracker app. A year ago, after Edward lost his phone for the fifth time in five days, he gave me permission to trace its whereabouts.
The results are instant, an address appearing on the screen. His phone is currently at 240 Adelaide Street West, in the heart of the entertainment district. The last of my foolish fears fade. Some of Edward’s newest clients own bars and restaurants. He must be visiting the locations for work. Perhaps he’s doing research.
I could assist with this research. For the last nine years, I’ve worked for Powers Corporation, a Toronto real estate company. I’ll share my insights on real estate prices, utilities, property taxes, and other related expenses, prove to him once again that we make a great team, that I can help his career.
Then I’ll ditch the coat and show him I can please him in other ways. I smile. The sexual tension inside me will dissipate. He’ll fall even deeper in love with me, commit to me, to us, completely.
I glance down at my ringless left hand. This could prompt him to propose, to make our relationship even more permanent. We’ll be one step closer to having that big family I dream of, a love-filled buffer against an often tumultuous world.
“Craig?”
“Yes, Miss Jenelly?”
“Could you call me a cab?”
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
He wants one night. I want forever.
Hit it and quit it—that’s Smoke Sheridan’s relationship philosophy. The tall, dark, and dangerous club owner never spends more than one night with any woman. He seduces the broken-hearted, leaving them with smiles on their faces and a sexual confidence other men can’t resist.
I need his services.
My boyfriend of four years dumped me because I’m a lousy lay. Smoke can help me win him back, teach me how to make my man writhe in ecstasy. I’ll show him such bliss, he’ll bellow my name in the dark of the night, want me with an all-consuming desire.
This sounds like a great plan. Except I see the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes, feel the wistfulness in his touch, experience the wanting in his embrace. The player isn’t as shallow as he appears.
And I’ve never been good at letting go.
One And Done contains inappropriate humor, very bad pickup lines, a BBW heroine who doesn’t know what she’s doing and a player who thinks he does.
This is a standalone story.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-oneanddone-2040641-340.html
On Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-and-done-cynthia-sax/1123809444
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-and-done-1
Topics: Coming Soon | Comments Off on One And Done – Fourth Scene
Your Favorite Writer Ignored You – And Other Reasons To Be Happy
You’ve saved up your cash, paid for a once-of-a-lifetime trip to a Romanceland conference, specifically to meet that writer you’ve admired for decades. You see her walking toward you, call out her name…
…and she walks right by you, acting as though she hasn’t seen you.
You’re a writer’s number one fan. You bought her first book on its release day before anyone else knew she existed. You’ve promoted every release she’s ever had, followed her across genres, even bought that unicorn-shifter-in-space stepbrother-post apocalyptic serial that ended after book one.
You email her to ask her for a copy of her latest cover so you can promote it.
She replies with a blank email. Or worse, she doesn’t reply at all.
Clearly these writers are class A bitches, not worthy of your fandom, right?
That’s possible. There are class A bitches in every profession. There aren’t many in Romanceland but there ARE some.
OR
These writers could be working on what just might be the best book of their lives and they have serious book brain. They don’t know what they’re wearing or where they are or why it’s so fuckin’ noisy in the Regency bookstore they think they’re standing in. They’re currently living in their book, similar to how you will hopefully live in that book when you read it.
Writers don’t talk about this much because… well… we’re constantly seen by the rest of the world as being a bit crazy. Talking about book brain would prove that the rest of the world is right. We ARE a bit crazy.
But crazy in the best way, a way that often benefits readers. Book brain usually means the writer is so sucked into her story; she can’t leave it. Even when she’s not writing, the story continues in her mind. Her characters won’t shut up. They won’t take a break and allow her to rest. They have lives of their own and they’re not listening to her.
It is like trying to go through a regular work day with two or more people yelling in your face at the top of their lungs. You can’t ignore these people because they might not repeat themselves and their words might mean the difference between creative, financial, and professional success or failure.
It’s stressful but also exciting and magical. My best stories come with a serious case of book brain.
Not every writer gets book brain. Book brain tends to happen more to pantsers (writers who write not knowing what will happen next) than to plotters (writers who need to know the plot of the story before they start writing).
And not every writer gets book brain all the time.
My book brain is the worst when I’m writing the first draft of a story that requires detailed world building.
Once in the middle of writing Releasing Rage, my first cyborg story, I walked right past my Dear Wonderful Hubby, a man I’ve loved passionately for over 20 years. He bumped against me. I mumbled an apology and continued walking. He laughed his fool head off.
I didn’t see him. At all. I was in the battle station with Rage and Joan, surrounded by Humanoid Alliance baddies.
I’ve also called Dear Wonderful Hubby by my hero’s name. More than once. During sexy times. (sheepish grin) This has happened so often; the stinker usually asks me whom he’ll be playing that night (or morning or whatever).
When I write non-fiction, I don’t get book brain at all.
My loved ones, my close friends and family, have either learned to accept my book brain, some having fun with it as my Dear Wonderful Hubby does, or they mysteriously disappear during the periods of extreme book brain (my Dear Wonderful Hubby always warns my super sensitive middle sister – she gets upset when I call her by my characters’ names or when she finds the birthday card she’s lovingly chosen for me filed in my refrigerator by the Costco-sized container of mustard).
Readers, reviewers, bloggers often don’t understand. Writers who don’t get book brain often don’t understand. We tend to disappoint these much loved, much appreciated people and that feels horrible.
Ideally, we should communicate with the real world AFTER our book brain has gone away. That’s the safest strategy. However, in this social media, instant contact environment, many people expect quick replies. They associate quick replies with caring and every writer I know wants her readers to feel appreciated.
Realizing this, many of us will try to function through the book brain. This often has disastrous results. We’ll call a blogger by a character’s name. We’ll send unsuspecting reviewers rambling answers to questions they never asked. I once emailed a reader an unedited extremely gruesome battle scene from a cyborg story I was writing. All she wanted to know was when my next much lighter billionaire story was releasing. (winces) We’ll comment on Facebook posts from the point of view of the character we’re writing and unfortunately our not-yet-redeemed hero is a foul-mouthed, insensitive ass.
I’ve been lucky. My Dear Wonderful Hubby tends to monitor my internet usage during my periods of book brain, hinting that maybe I shouldn’t be on Facebook while I’m channeling a grief-stricken intergalactic bounty hunter. And almost everyone I associate with has a healthy sense of humor. But I know it is only a matter of time before I appear on a list of writers behaving badly.
If that happens, I will likely crawl under a rock and beg Death to take me. (winks) But you should celebrate. It means I have book brain. I’m so sucked into my own story; I’ve temporarily lost my grip on the real world.
THOSE are the stories that end up being special.
And please don’t take it personally if you’re the unfortunate buddy who has to deal with my book brain. Wait a week and ask me for an explanation. Delete the extremely gruesome battle scene. Ask if the wrong name I called you belongs to a character. Tease me mercilessly about my error until the end of time.
I love you. I appreciate you. Never question that.
Note: Book brain is a temporary affliction. It also isn’t a get-off-the-writers-behaving-badly-list-for-free card. If I’m ever an ass to you, book brain or not, I deserve to be on that list.
Just know that my ass-ness is about ME, not you. You ROCK. Don’t ever believe otherwise.
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
Defying Death
He’ll risk it all for one moment of happiness.
Cyborgs don’t show emotion. Death learned that lesson early in his long lifespan. To survive, he hides his fierce passions behind a stoic wall. He calls no warrior friend. He never admits to caring for any being.
Even the human female he’s destined to love.
Tifara is Death’s obsession, his sole opportunity for happiness, to express the all-consuming passion burning brightly inside him. He’ll do anything to obtain the curvaceous medic: defy a direct order, abduct Tifara from her battle station, and wage war on his fellow cyborgs.
To earn her love, he’ll have to risk much, much more.
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Defying-Death-Cyborg-Sizzle-Book-ebook/dp/B01D6OUQS2/
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Defying-Death-Cyborg-Sizzle-Book-ebook/dp/B01D6OUQS2/
ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-defyingdeath-2001671-147.html
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/defying-death-cynthia-sax/1123562659
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/defying-death-2
Topics: Writing Tips | 2 Comments »
Seducing My Billionaire Boss – A Top Pick
Woot! Seducing My Billionaire Boss is an ARe top pick!
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
Note: If you purchased the Salacious boxed set, you already have this story.
This job and this man are mine.
I have to land the position Robert Reyes, the CFO of Powers Corporation, recently posted. My friend’s health depends on it. I’ve heard the rumors—that Rob will require… extra duties from this new hire.
He’s young, handsome, intelligent. Pleasing him won’t be a hardship. Not falling in love with him will be the big challenge. I’ve lusted after Rob for years, like him more than is prudent, dream of him every night. Touching his body, tasting the salt on his skin, will be both a self-inflicted torment and a fantasy come true.
I’ll be a convenience for my hunky executive. This is a job, not a romance. As long as both of us remember this, our relationship should work.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Seducing-Billionaire-Boss-City-Sizzle-ebook/dp/B01EPB5EYG/
On Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Seducing-Billionaire-Boss-City-Sizzle-ebook/dp/B01EPB5EYG
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-seducingmybillionaireboss-2025128-149.html
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/seducing-my-billionaire-boss
Topics: Reviews | Comments Off on Seducing My Billionaire Boss – A Top Pick
One And Done – Third Scene
One And Done is releasing on July 19th (it is available for pre-order now) and I’m sharing the first two chapters of this 300 page plus contemporary erotic romance.
Read the first scene here: http://tasteofcyn.com/2016/06/06/one-and-done-first-scene/
It takes Azure an hour to fix my hair and another thirty minutes to push me out the door. I hold the coat closed with one hand as I walk along the hallway. Although it’s fully buttoned, I don’t trust the garment.
The elevator is empty.
There’s no security guard at the entrance of the building. That’s normal. The station positioned there is purely for show. I’ve never seen anyone sit in that chair.
I exit.
Woofer is waiting outside the doors.
It doesn’t matter when I leave or when I return. The kid is always lurking around the front doors, handing out the free daily papers. I feed him as often as I can and give him my spare change. It isn’t enough but I don’t know what else to do.
I’m achingly aware that, if it weren’t for family, for people who loved me, I could have been Woofer. I could have been homeless.
When I was seven years old, the biggest paper mill in Thunder Bay, my hometown, closed. My dad, along with thousands of other people, was laid off. He swallowed his pride and applied for every job available—minimum wage positions at fast-food restaurants, night shifts at telemarketing companies.
No one hired him.
Months passed. My dad’s car disappeared. Weeks later, the minivan vanished. A stranger picked up the TV. Another man took my dad’s tools.
My parents tried to hide their concern, making our precarious situation seem like an adventure, but I felt their fear, their stress. I saw the slump of my dad’s shoulders as he returned from another long day of job hunting.
My mom, after working an equally grueling double shift at her low-paying cashier position, would patiently rebuild his confidence, caring for him, her belief in her husband, my dad, unshakable.
Then, one day, we returned home to find the front door of our bungalow padlocked, a huge foreclosure notice plastered to the wood.
“We’ve lost everything.” The anguish in my mom’s voice shocked me. She was normally so strong, so calm. I’d never seen her break down.
Her reaction made the situation even more real. We were homeless, without a place to stay, to sleep, our clothes, my toys, books, trapped behind that locked door.
I shook, more scared than I’d ever been in my short life.
“We didn’t lose everything, love.” My dad hooked his right arm around my mom’s waist, drawing her to him. He rested his left hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his palm permeated my thin cotton shirt, soothing my terror. “We have each other.” He paused, forcing a smile, a bleakness in his eyes. “And we have family. We’ll always have a place to stay.”
He was right. When we showed up on Grandma Whyte’s doorstep, she took one look at my dad’s face, muttered something about proud fools, and ushered us into her four-bedroom home, telling us we could stay as long as we needed.
We’d have to earn our keep, she stressed as she mixed a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies, my dad’s favorite treat. He would be responsible for maintaining the yard, clearing the driveway of snow in the winter and for completing repairs around the house. My mom would be in charge of the cleaning and the laundry. I’d help Grandma Whyte with the baking.
My dad eventually found a job but we never moved out. We lived with my grandma until she died. She’d become my confidant, my best friend, and I howled for a week after the funeral.
Grandma Whyte left the house to my parents. I inherited her recipe box, the papers inside stained brown with the vanilla extract she made herself.
The recipe I used to make the chocolate chip cookies for Edward and for Woofer had been written on one of those papers, in her familiar scrawl.
“You just missed a Ferrari, Miss ‘Nella.” The car-crazy kid shakes with excitement. “A 488 GTB, red, mint-condition, 3.9-liter V8 engine, two turbochargers.”
“That sounds powerful.” Knowing nothing about cars, I try to look suitably impressed. “Don’t wait here all night for it to drive past again.” I muss the boy’s unruly mop of black hair. “Get to a shelter before they fill up.”
“Shelters are for old people,” he grumbles, bumping against me.
“Shelters are for all people.” I hand him a paper bag stuffed with two turkey sandwiches, heavy on the vegetable fixings, a bottle of orange juice, and the cookies. “What do I get for this?” Woofer doesn’t accept charity. He has his pride also.
“Since you got your paper already, I guess it’ll have to be a hug, but I don’t like it.”
He lies. He loves it. The kid is starved for touch.
“Then give it to me.” I open my arms. He squeezes me, thumping the bag against my back. I hug him to me. He allows this embrace for a couple of heartwarming moments before wriggling away from me.
“Did you make oatmeal raisin?” He looks in the bag.
“Chocolate chip.”
“You made these cookies for him.” Woofer scowls. When the kid first appeared at his post, about a year ago, he mouthed off to me, in typical teenager style. Being protective of me, Edward took offense. He threatened to call the cops and have the kid arrested. Woofer hasn’t forgiven him.
“I made the sandwiches especially for you.” I give him one more quick hug, which earns me a grimace and some under-the-breath cussing. “I don’t want to see lettuce and tomatoes on the sidewalk when I get back.”
I ignore his grumbles and walk toward the subway station.
There’s the usual collection of homeless people gathered around the entrance. Some of them are the same age as my dad was when he lost his job.
I say hi to them, addressing the men and women I know by name, and enter the underground.
The train arrives almost immediately. I select a seat near the door and I gaze around me. It’s a hot summer night. The air conditioning in the car is under strain, whirring loudly.
I’m the only person in the subway car wearing a coat. Many of the women are wearing short skirts and sleeveless shirts. A couple of the men are in shorts.
Why am I doing this?
Edward loves me, wants me, needs me. We haven’t seen each other during these past two weeks because his work has been crazy. I don’t have to dress like an actress in a very bad porno film to garner his attention. I’ve had it since the very first moment we met.
Edward and I had both been attending a fancy charity gala. I wasn’t supposed to be there. My billionaire boss had been called out of town at the last minute. There had been an emergency involving one of the company’s low-income housing projects.
Mr. Powers had sent me to the gala in his stead, entrusting me with the task of relaying his very generous donation to the hostess. Edward had been given a ticket by Mr. Barron, one of the partners at his firm.
I knew very few of the guests. Edward knew no one. Arianna, our hostess, introduced us. Edward looked dashing in a black tuxedo, the lights shining on his blond hair, his eyes the lightest shade of blue.
He took my hand, bent his head, and gallantly kissed my fingertips. My heart skipped a beat. It was so romantic. When Arianna flitted to her next guests, moving out of earshot, he declared I was the prettiest girl in the room.
And that was it. I was a goner, head over heels. No man had ever said those words to me. No one had ever looked at me as though I was the center of his universe.
These past two weeks, he’s been working hard, trying to get ahead for me, for us, for our future. I have to be understanding, appreciative.
Sweat drips down my spine, slips between my ass cheeks.
A trio of blue-jean-wearing, spike-haired tough guys move in front of me. They’re clad in T-shirts, their bared arms tanned and tattooed. The tallest one looks my way, his mouth moves and they all laugh.
I set the tin of cookies on my lap and run my palms over my borrowed coat, ensuring the buttons remain fastened, that there are no gaps in the material, revealing my clothing…or lack thereof underneath.
They can’t see anything. It’s sweltering and I’m overdressed, and they might suspect I’m up to something but they don’t know what that something is.
The subway car’s doors slide open at St. Andrew station. A gray-haired man wearing a long, tan, trench coat enters. He shuffles between the seats.
My shoulders lower. I’m not the only one overdressed.
The man sits on the seat across from me. His legs spread and his coat gaps open, revealing hairy bare legs. I blink. Under the trench coat, he’s sporting brown loafers, long white sport socks with red stripes around the cuffs.
Oh my God. That’s the uniform of flashers everywhere.
The man is naked under his coat.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.
I can’t control my eyeballs. My gaze lifts and meets his. The man nods at me and has the audacity to wink, as though we share a dirty secret.
My face heats. He thinks I’m a fellow flasher, that I plan to expose myself, to show my naked body to unsuspecting men and women.
I’m going to kill Azure.
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
He wants one night. I want forever.
Hit it and quit it—that’s Smoke Sheridan’s relationship philosophy. The tall, dark, and dangerous club owner never spends more than one night with any woman. He seduces the broken-hearted, leaving them with smiles on their faces and a sexual confidence other men can’t resist.
I need his services.
My boyfriend of four years dumped me because I’m a lousy lay. Smoke can help me win him back, teach me how to make my man writhe in ecstasy. I’ll show him such bliss, he’ll bellow my name in the dark of the night, want me with an all-consuming desire.
This sounds like a great plan. Except I see the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes, feel the wistfulness in his touch, experience the wanting in his embrace. The player isn’t as shallow as he appears.
And I’ve never been good at letting go.
One And Done contains inappropriate humor, very bad pickup lines, a BBW heroine who doesn’t know what she’s doing and a player who thinks he does.
This is a standalone story.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-oneanddone-2040641-340.html
On Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-and-done-cynthia-sax/1123809444
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-and-done-1
Topics: Coming Soon | Comments Off on One And Done – Third Scene
Fathers In Romanceland – Releasing Rage
Today is Father’s Day in North America. There are some awesome dad moments in romance novels. There’s something very sexy about a man taking care of his son, whether that son is biologically his or a son he has chosen to love.
Yesterday, I shared a scene from One And Done, my next contemporary romance release. Today, I thought I’d share a scene from Releasing Rage featuring Rage, the first cyborg daddy.
He’s highly intelligent.
He? Rage frowned. Did viruses have a sex? Answer my questions. Will my female survive?
The virus squealed, its tone joyful, and the cyborgs laughed. They fraggin’ laughed while his female was ill!
“Stay still, little engineer.” Rage brushed his lips over Joan’s forehead and stomped toward Doc and Surge. They didn’t look away from the viewscreen, watching it as though they’d never seen anything so intriguing.
Rage pushed Surge out of his way. “Let me see it.” He gazed at the image. It looked like a misshapen humanoid with a giant skull and a shrunken little body. That was inside the female he loved, feeding off her, infecting every other being around them?
“What type of parasite is that?” He touched his stomach. Did he now have one of those creatures inside him too?
“Parasite?” Joan’s face turned pale. “Get it out of me.”
“Parasite.” Surge smiled.
“Technically, he is one.” Doc appeared as irrationally happy. “And judging by how quickly he’s growing, he’ll be out of you in mere planet rotations, Rage’s female.”
“We might have to remove him.” Surge tapped his fingers against his chin. “She’s human. She might not be able to carry him to term.”
“True.”
Rage’s frustration levels spiraled higher and higher. “Will.” He picked Doc up by his neck. “She.” He shook the cyborg. “Live?”
“Yes,” Doc croaked. “Not virus. Offspring.”
“What?” Rage dropped him. “That’s your diagnosis?” Were they idiots? “Cyborgs can’t produce offspring. I know. I was in the breeding programs, was paired with twenty-two human females and one hundred and fifteen cyborg females. None of those pairings were successful.” He narrowed his eyes, questioning Doc’s credentials. “Where did you learn about repairing cyborgs?”
Doc rubbed his neck. “I’m qualified.”
Rage didn’t believe him. Crash. He opened his transmission lines to his friend. Relay these images and all subsequent information to Intrepid. Ask him to search on possible causes. “Are there additional medical staff on board?”
“You don’t need advice from additional medical staff.” Doc glared at him. “This is an image of an offspring manufactured in one of the human’s laboratories.” He tapped the screen and an image appeared. “This is the image of the offspring in your female’s womb.” He reduced the size and displayed them side by side.
They were identical.
Identical.
That meant…
Rage swayed, his view of the worlds, the future, fate shifting.
Because something he thought impossible had occurred. He had created offspring with Joan. She wasn’t sick, wasn’t dying. She would live, spend her lifespan with him.
And she was carrying his son.
“My son,” he roared, falling to his knees, his fingers curling into fists. “I have a female and a son.”
Cyborgs cheered over the transmission lines, their joy almost rivaling his.
Almost.
He’d never felt this happy. Ever. It was as though every pleasure he’d ever experienced, every dream, every unspoken wish, had converged into one.
“Rage?” Joan gazed at him with wide eyes, her hands placed protectively over her rounded stomach. She’d given him this happiness.
“We created offspring, female.”
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
Defying Death
He’ll risk it all for one moment of happiness.
Cyborgs don’t show emotion. Death learned that lesson early in his long lifespan. To survive, he hides his fierce passions behind a stoic wall. He calls no warrior friend. He never admits to caring for any being.
Even the human female he’s destined to love.
Tifara is Death’s obsession, his sole opportunity for happiness, to express the all-consuming passion burning brightly inside him. He’ll do anything to obtain the curvaceous medic: defy a direct order, abduct Tifara from her battle station, and wage war on his fellow cyborgs.
To earn her love, he’ll have to risk much, much more.
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Defying-Death-Cyborg-Sizzle-Book-ebook/dp/B01D6OUQS2/
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Defying-Death-Cyborg-Sizzle-Book-ebook/dp/B01D6OUQS2/
ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-defyingdeath-2001671-147.html
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/defying-death-cynthia-sax/1123562659
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/defying-death-2
Topics: Guest Post | 1 Comment »
Fathers In Romance – One And Done
Tomorrow is Father’s Day in North America. There are many types of dads in Romanceland. Some have biological children. Some have adopted children. Some become dads in nontraditional ways.
In One And Done, Smoke chooses to become a father figure to Woofer, a street kid. Woofer, a teenager, is mouthy and moody, a kid others might find difficult to love.
Here’s a scene from One And Done
A little over two hours later, Nana Zaire has moved to a bench positioned in a sunny spot in the secluded backyard. “He won’t be easy to love.”
“No, he won’t be.” I’m not certain whether she’s referring to the man or to the boy leaning over the Lamborghini’s engine. It doesn’t matter. The same observation applies to both of them. “We’re taking it one minute at a time.”
“He needs to hear those words but they’re just words, aren’t they? You’re already talking about making dinner rolls for next week and cupcakes for Lucy’s birthday.”
She’s right. I can’t live purely in the present. “I’m trying.”
“He is too.” Nana Zaire nods at Smoke. “And he realizes he’s difficult. That’s why he brought you here.” She pats my hands. “You’ll need my help. You have my number.” She gave it to me after dinner. “You know where I live. You’re welcome here anytime.”
“Thank you.” I can’t imagine Edward’s mother ever making me this offer. “If you need any help, I’m here for you too.”
“I’m counting on that.” She turns her head, watches Smoke and Woofer fiddle with the sports car, their shoulders touching.
Woofer’s mouth constantly moves, as do his hands. Smoke deflects a waving wrench as it threatens to clunk against the immaculate paint job. The boy doesn’t notice this close call.
“I should talk to Woofer.” He’ll damage Smoke’s pretty car.
“No, you shouldn’t.” Nana Zaire stops me. “Smoke understands. Zanders, my husband, was a proud audiophile, a purist. He had a huge collection of LPs, premium vinyl, rare records that were difficult to find.”
“Smoke smashed it.” I don’t need to hear the entire story to know how it ends.
“If he told you that, he’s even more serious about you than I thought.” She studies me. “Smoke takes his pain out on inanimate objects. He doesn’t harm people.”
“I know.” He’d never hurt me, not physically. Smoke removes the wrench from Woofer’s hands and closes the hood. “The hurt has to go somewhere.”
“True.” Nana Zaire nods. “How does Woofer deal with it?”
“He works.” I consider my history with the boy more closely. “And he acts like he doesn’t care but he does, very much.”
“They all do.”
Smoke strides toward us, rubbing his hands on a rag. Woofer follows him, attempting to imitate his swagger. They’re so damn adorable.
I love them both.
“I’ll take you inside, Nana Zaire.” Smoke reaches down and lifts her to her feet, handling the elderly woman as though she’s a delicate piece of fine china. “Woofer, you have something to say to Miss Jenella.”
“Yes, sir.” He scowls behind Smoke’s back and crosses his thin arms, unhappiness radiating from him.
My lips twitch. I must be receiving an apology.
Judging by Woofer’s expression, it will be the most ungracious request for forgiveness anyone has ever received.
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
He wants one night. I want forever.
Hit it and quit it—that’s Smoke Sheridan’s relationship philosophy. The tall, dark, and dangerous club owner never spends more than one night with any woman. He seduces the broken-hearted, leaving them with smiles on their faces and a sexual confidence other men can’t resist.
I need his services.
My boyfriend of four years dumped me because I’m a lousy lay. Smoke can help me win him back, teach me how to make my man writhe in ecstasy. I’ll show him such bliss, he’ll bellow my name in the dark of the night, want me with an all-consuming desire.
This sounds like a great plan. Except I see the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes, feel the wistfulness in his touch, experience the wanting in his embrace. The player isn’t as shallow as he appears.
And I’ve never been good at letting go.
One And Done contains inappropriate humor, very bad pickup lines, a BBW heroine who doesn’t know what she’s doing and a player who thinks he does.
This is a standalone story.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-oneanddone-2040641-340.html
On Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-and-done-cynthia-sax/1123809444
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-and-done-1
Topics: Coming Soon | 1 Comment »
Cover Reveal For Chasing Mayhem
Woot! I have a cover for Chasing Mayhem (releasing in September)! I love how Amanda Kelsey, my awesome cover artist, captured Mayhem’s wild hair.
Here is the VERY rough, unedited blurb…
Wild. Free. Hers.
Mayhem has spent his lengthy lifespan obeying the Humanoid Alliance’s rules. Now that he’s finally free from their cruel control, the cyborg warrior plans to cause chaos. He infiltrates a remote settlement, provokes the savage locals until they want him dead, and allows himself to be captured by the sexiest little Retriever he has ever laid his mechanically-enhanced eyes on.
Imee’s sole mission in life is to keep her family alive. To do this, she must hunt rebels, returning them to the Humanoid Alliance’s evil clutches where they will be executed. She doesn’t allow herself to feel anything for her targets…until she meets a tall, muscular cyborg with wild hair and even wilder eyes.
With his sure hands, laughing lips and erotic holds, Mayhem makes Imee’s body sizzle and her resistance melt. Their love is doomed. She must deliver the warrior to his death or she’ll place her family’s safety at risk. But she can’t resist him.
As Imee soon discovers, Mayhem, life and love are never predictable.
Topics: Cover Reveal | Comments Off on Cover Reveal For Chasing Mayhem
Seducing My Billionaire Boss Releases
Woot! Seducing My Billionaire Boss releases today!
Pick up yours today. Only 99 pennies!
Note: If you purchased the Salacious boxed set, you already have this story.
This job and this man are mine.
I have to land the position Robert Reyes, the CFO of Powers Corporation, recently posted. My friend’s health depends on it. I’ve heard the rumors—that Rob will require… extra duties from this new hire.
He’s young, handsome, intelligent. Pleasing him won’t be a hardship. Not falling in love with him will be the big challenge. I’ve lusted after Rob for years, like him more than is prudent, dream of him every night. Touching his body, tasting the salt on his skin, will be both a self-inflicted torment and a fantasy come true.
I’ll be a convenience for my hunky executive. This is a job, not a romance. As long as both of us remember this, our relationship should work.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Seducing-Billionaire-Boss-City-Sizzle-ebook/dp/B01EPB5EYG/
On Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Seducing-Billionaire-Boss-City-Sizzle-ebook/dp/B01EPB5EYG
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-seducingmybillionaireboss-2025128-149.html
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/seducing-my-billionaire-boss
Topics: New Releases | Comments Off on Seducing My Billionaire Boss Releases
One And Done – Second Scene
One And Done is releasing on July 19th (it is available for pre-order now) and I’m sharing the first two chapters of this 300 page plus contemporary erotic romance.
Read the first scene here: http://tasteofcyn.com/2016/06/06/one-and-done-first-scene/
She picks up a piece of cookie and contemplates it for a moment. “I really thought you and Steady Eddy would last.”
God. Are we back to that again?
“We’re lasting.” I pack cookies into an empty candy tin, choosing the best-looking specimens. Three of the cookies have already been enclosed in plastic wrap and placed in the care package I’ve put together for Woofer, the street kid stationed downstairs. “Couples can’t spend every minute together. Life happens.”
“Breakups happen.”
“We’re not breaking up.” I love him. He loves me. “If anything, we’ll be stronger for this. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say.”
“Absence makes the heart go yonder, as they also say.” Azure smacks the cookie I’m reaching for, rendering it unacceptable for Edward’s consumption. “Love the one you’re with and all that.”
I quickly fill the tin. “You don’t understand.” Azure’s longest relationship lasted a whole five days.
“I understand that your lover-boy lawyer is a twice-a-week type of guy. He’s been that way since the day the two of you met. Now, after three years…”
“Four years.” I correct her, proud of this accomplishment.
“After four years,” Azure amends. “He has gone almost two weeks without getting any. Phone sex is good in a pinch but even Steady Eddy has to be wanting the real thing.”
We haven’t been having phone sex. We talk every day, exchanging multiple calls and messages, but our conversations have been short and businesslike. Edward has been busy at the firm, feeling the pressure to perform, to bring in the big deals and prove his worth.
And I’m the one in our relationship most likely to want the real thing. I’ve always had a greater need for sex. Twice a week isn’t enough for me.
It’s rare that couples are completely compatible in the bedroom. I read that on the internet. Someone often needs to take care of her or himself. I’d rather be that person and not put even more stress on Edward’s suit-clad shoulders.
“I’m seeing him tonight.” I place the lid on the tin. “I’m dropping by the firm, surprising him.” If I call, he’ll tell me he’s too busy to see me, that he has to concentrate on his cases. “I’ll give him the real thing.”
“Wearing that?” Azure surveys my outfit. I haven’t changed out of the black skirt suit I’d worn to my office. “You should ditch the corporate slave gear and show him your inner sex goddess. Then you might see him more often.”
“He’s at the office and I don’t have an inner sex goddess.” I love sex, but compared to my inhibitions-free friend, my experience has been limited. Edward is a missionary-position-every-time kind of man and the two boyfriends I’d had in university were as bungling as I was, coming after a couple awkward thrusts.
“You could wear a long coat.” Azure’s eyes gleam. “And nothing else.”
“No.”
“Yes.” She grasps my wrist and pulls me into my bedroom. “If you’re not brave enough to go nude under the coat—”
“I’m not.” Knowing my luck, a button would pop off the coat and everyone in Edward’s stuffy law firm would get an eyeful, embarrassing me, but even worse, humiliating the man I love.
“You could leave your underwear on.” Azure, having no boundaries, unbuttons my blazer and gazes at my plain white bra. “Or not.”
Dismay is written all over her expressive face.
“My bra is practical.” I snatch my blazer away from her and wrap my plus-sized body in fabric.
“It’s ugly.” My friend rummages through my drawers, tossing my clean clothes on the floor. “Here. Put this on.” She lobs a ball of black silk at me.
I smooth it out and gaze at it with trepidation. “This is lingerie. It isn’t meant to be worn outside the bedroom.”
“You’ll be wearing a coat over it.” Azure’s tone is dry. “Some young girl working in a hot, overcrowded sweatshop sacrificed her eyesight to craft that garment for you.” My friend continues to ravage my neatly organized dresser. “The least you can do is wear it.”
It won’t hurt me to try it on. I discard my ugly bra and the rest of my clothes and I slip the babydoll over my head. The hem of the skirt skims the bare skin above my knees and the triangle cups struggle to contain my large breasts.
“I look like a hooker.” If the fabric shifts an inch to the right or to the left, I’ll show nipple.
“Steady Eddy is a lawyer; he’s the white, middle-aged, male version of a hooker.” Azure grins at her own joke. “He’s going to lose his shit when he sees you.”
My jaw clenches. “Edward will lose his shit and not in a good way. He works at a conservative law firm. I won’t jeopardize his job to give our sex life a boost.”
I know how difficult it can be to find a replacement job. He could be out of work for months, years, losing his home, his car, everything.
Except me. He wouldn’t lose me. I’d stand by his side as my mom stood by my dad’s side. I love Edward and love means sticking with a person through the good times and the bad.
“Put these on.” Azure holds up a pair of silk boy shorts. “They’ll cover everything.” She snaps the tags, removing them, and hands the boy shorts to me.
They only cover half of my huge ass. “I’m not showing up at his office, dressed in lingerie, a coat and heels.”
“Find your center and breathe.” She presses on my chest. “Only Eddy will know what you’re wearing under your coat. This will be your little secret.”
The coat is long. I nibble on my bottom lip. It would conceal everything.
“Think of this as skipping a step in undressing,” she adds. “You’ll reach this state eventually. You’re simply doing it faster.”
Edward does like fast. We’d get to the sex quicker, allowing him to return to work sooner, saving his valuable billable time. He wouldn’t be upset with me for interrupting him. My visit wouldn’t cause him to lose his job.
There’s still an element of risk. “If this goes wrong—”
“It won’t.” Azure plugs the brand new, never-been-in-a-man’s-ass curling iron into a socket, preparing to fix my hair. “Trust the universe, ‘Nella. Let it guide you.”
“But—”
“It’s been almost two weeks.”
It has been almost two weeks. I miss Edward, want him, need him.
“Okay.” I sit in the chair positioned before her. “But if I end up in jail for indecent exposure, I expect you to bail me out.”
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
He wants one night. I want forever.
Hit it and quit it—that’s Smoke Sheridan’s relationship philosophy. The tall, dark, and dangerous club owner never spends more than one night with any woman. He seduces the broken-hearted, leaving them with smiles on their faces and a sexual confidence other men can’t resist.
I need his services.
My boyfriend of four years dumped me because I’m a lousy lay. Smoke can help me win him back, teach me how to make my man writhe in ecstasy. I’ll show him such bliss, he’ll bellow my name in the dark of the night, want me with an all-consuming desire.
This sounds like a great plan. Except I see the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes, feel the wistfulness in his touch, experience the wanting in his embrace. The player isn’t as shallow as he appears.
And I’ve never been good at letting go.
One And Done contains inappropriate humor, very bad pickup lines, a BBW heroine who doesn’t know what she’s doing and a player who thinks he does.
This is a standalone story.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-oneanddone-2040641-340.html
On Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-and-done-cynthia-sax/1123809444
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-and-done-1
Topics: Coming Soon | Comments Off on One And Done – Second Scene
