Ninon de L’Enclos was born in Paris in 1620 and came from an interesting family. Her father had been exiled from France for participating in a duel and when her mother died, she decided to enter a convent. Of course, she didn’t last very long and a year later, she left the convent and decided to strike out on her own using her wit and her body to make her fortune. How did she decide to go from convent to courtesan? It may surprise you to know that the one thing Ninon wanted above all else was to remain unmarried and independent. That left a woman only one of two choices back in those days. The convent. Or the life of a courtesan. She figured out pretty quickly that there wasn’t all that much fun to be had at the convent…

Ninon, once she went out into the world, actually became quite known for her passionate involvement in the literary arts, not just the sexual arts. She interacted and encouraged writers such as Moliere and even left money from her estate for her accountant’s son, Francois Arouet. Better known as Voltaire. Voltaire has Ninon to thank for his education. Without it, who knows what he would have turned into.

It was, however, the older Ninon that ultimately fascinated me. She took on many lovers throughout the years, but never more than one at a time and involved herself with powerful, wealthy men, such as the King’s cousin and dukes. Perhaps the most heartbreaking, yet fascinating of stories is about her son. Ninon involved herself with a wealthy, powerful man and bore him a son. This man took the son from Ninon and asked that she never disclose herself as being the boy’s mother. She agreed and watched her son grow up from a distance. Imagine her astonishment when her fully grown son appears at her door one day and ardently pleads to her if she’d take him into her bed. Ehm. Yes. Talk about awkward. At first, she simply denied him and brushed him off, hoping that his pride would simply squash whatever hopes he had. But her son was so obsessed and in love with her that he simply would not give her any sense of peace. Ninon was beside herself and knew she simply had to reveal the truth to him. To get him to stop. When she revealed the truth, her son quietly left and that same day committed suicide by impaling himself upon his own sword. It was a tragedy that haunted Ninon for the rest of her days.

Such tragedies, however, often leads to great wisdom. (Don’t we all know that…) She thrived upon using her experience at every turn. When she wasn’t bedding her current lover, she held literary events and discussions with aristocratic men having to do with philosophy, life, love, and yes, even sex. It was a “school” of sorts she had created and she had quite the following of men. In the early stages of creating my books, I decided to take these “discussions” of hers with men and turn it into an actual school. Hence the creation of the School of Gallantry.

Without a doubt, Ninon was known for her quips and wit. She had great sayings like, “Much more genius is needed to make love than to command armies.” (Ain’t that the truth) And my my favorite “The resistance of a woman is not always a proof of her virtue, but more frequently of her experience.” These fabulous quotes of hers gave me ideas upon ideas as to how my imaginary school should be run as well as the sort of quotes I wanted to see at the beginning of each chapter within my books. Hence the lessons. Call it a tribute, if you will, to the fabulous Ninon.

What is perhaps the most fascinating aspect of Ninon and why I created an elderly courtesan for my series as opposed to a young one, is that the older Ninon got, the more sought after she became by men. Unlike most courtesans who were forced to retire due to age and lack of beauty, Ninon’s circle of admirers grew because they simply could not get enough of her wit and charm. Even women flocked to her for advice. One of my favorite stories about Ninon is when she was approached by a gentleman who desperately wanted to bed her but she really didn’t care for him. So she told him, “When I turn 80.” The man was so obsessed with her, that he waited, and when she turned 80, he showed up at her door saying it was time. Ninon was so amused by the man, she decided to bed him after all. Indeed, her approach toward men and toward life, the amount of wealth and power she acquired in her lifetime is beyond the comprehension of even a modern woman. I hail her for this alone. Ninon died at 84 and left her vast fortune to friends and admirers.

So there you have it. Ninon AKA Madame de Maitenon.

Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

I then entered college as an English major. I was going to be teacher and write during the summers. Even then I was a smart girl who knew I wasn’t going to make jack and that I needed a job to support the “creative” one. Throughout all of college I wrote historical romances. One right after another. And kept submitting. And submitting. And submitting. And kept getting rejected and rejected and rejected. In the meantime, I got married. I had two kids. I joined RWA. I got critique partners. I honed and honed and honed my writing. And kept writing and getting rejected. I eventually racked up over 200 rejections and had written over 40 books in those 11 years of trying to get published.

When I finally sold my first historical romance, MISTRESS OF PLEASURE, and my second book, LORD OF PLEASURE, I was beside myself. It didn’t feel real. To FINALLY arrive at a destination I had been traveling toward for 11 long years seemed like a mirage. Which fortunately, I quickly snapped out of. Because after all, most of my friends are all published and unpublished writers and the stories they all have told me throughout the years made me realize I had to fight with fists up for myself every step of the way. I knew publishers did little to no promotion for their authors, so I spearheaded my own promo, ready to be more than just an author. And even though I was budgeting very well and spending countless hours networking and promoting on websites and blogs, doing tons for free, I still ended up spending $7,000 on my first book. Which was way more than my advance. But hey, every business starts in the red. Right?

Then the reviews started coming in about my series set in 1830 London England about a school that educates men on the topic of love and seduction. People loved it! Wow. It got nominated for awards. Wow. Readers are e-mailing me raving. Wow. Readers from France, Austria and from all over the U.S and the world. Wow. It just kept getting better and better. I was beginning to feel as if every penny I spent was all worth it (even though my family and I weren’t going on any vacations and were eating out of cans).

Come contract time, I’m ready. Or so I thought… Mistress of Pleasure, though completely sold out and unavailable anywhere (unless it’s a used copy, some going for a ridiculous amount of $40.00 on amazon), hadn’t done as well as my publisher had hoped. So without waiting for the second book to come out to see if the series was even worth saving, I get a rejection from my editor citing lack of sales.

I have to say this rejection felt more personal than any of the other two hundred and some rejections I’d received. Because it was no longer “Your book isn’t good enough” it became “Your sales aren’t good enough.” Since when is an author supposed to be a market guru AND a fabulous writer? Eck.

I love this series. The men in it make me laugh and it broke my heart to think that my readers will never get a chance to read about Lord Brayton, my glorious male virgin. Then I realized something, maybe the series doesn’t have to end. Maybe readers can save it.

Ah. Herein lies the purpose of my post. I am challenging everyone to help me do something that’s never been done before. Save a series from a death sentence. Can it be done? Who knows. But I eat challenges for breakfast and I hope you do too. Please join me in saving my series. Come August 4th, tell everyone you know (yes, even you’re 72 year old grandfather) to buy the book, Lord of Pleasure. In doing so, you’ll have a chance to win one of three $50 Visa Gift Cards. How? Check out my website for details at www.DelilahMarvelle.com

That said, thank you for all the support everyone has already shown me. To all you readers out there, thank you for supporting us writers. To all you writers out there, don’t ever give up on your writing. The moment you do, you give up on yourself. Which is why I’m not giving up on my series.

Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

Let me tell you, it was the best event I have EVER attended. I have the pics to prove it.

Models, anyone? These awesomingly good looking group of gentlemen could be seen everywhere. And funnier, more charming men you’d never find. Here they were collecting their awards.

Costumes and balls galore!!!

Every night there was an exciting themed event to go to. And though some people didn’t dress up, most did. And they certainly knew how to put on a show!

Harlequin celebrates its 60th anniversary and boy did they put on a party for us! With free gifts, posters, such as the one above showing covers from the past. Oh, those 50′s. And we thought the 80′s was all about bodice ripping…

What, pray tell, is that martini glass full of???? Harlequin had an amazing Mashed Potato Martini Bar. You grabbed yourself a martini glass, put in your mash potatoes and topped it with whatever your little heart wanted to. It was a delicious experience!

The RT book signing. OMgosh, what an event!!! The amount of people who came to the RT book signing was ASTOUNDING. I hardly got a break and there were people constantly walking by and people running up to me telling me how much they loved my book (and making me blush). Above was my beautiful neighbor at the signing, Liz Maverick. She sat on my right and had the awesomest sense of humor. Loved her.

On my left was the fabulous Melissa Marr. We both have iphones so she was showing me the coolest applications ever. Then the people started coming and boy did they love Melissa (and rightfully so. My own daughter is in love with all her books).

The Wall of China, as I like to call it. Or rather, Melissa Marr’s books. I had only 15 before me. Snort. I want to be just like Melissa Marr when I grow up!

One of my highlights, without a doubt was my roommate, author Alisa Kwitney/Alisa Sheckley. RT randomly put us together, since we were looking for roommates. And this woman was a RIOT. What made the signing even more fun was that she sat right across from me at the booksigning. We had little name tents in front of us, so we would write messages on the back and flip them over to “talk” to each other during the signing. Her message was “Grinch Dog.” Mine was “Slut.” Don’t ask. Just know that a lot of people didn’t see Delilah Marvelle at the signing, but rather SLUT.

I simply HAD to add this to the experience, since I’m talking about Alisa, my roommate. So. The thing you see above is my traveling shaver. It say on a towel on top of the toilet seat throughout my stay. Alisa toward the end of RT finally confessed that she didn’t dare to look at it because she thought it was my own personal dildo which I had brought along. Seriously. I never laughed so hard in my life. And because my historical romance actually features a leather dildo, it really was quite fitting…

And last but not least. The above is the lovely Jill. I hung out with many, many wonderful people like Jill. The best part? She’s not a writer, but a reader. And that was by far the best experience of RT. I got to hang out with readers the whole time. And listening to what they love and hate (I took notes…) Le sigh. I miss all the wonderful people I have met but I am really, really looking forward to next year’s RT. Ardently. And if I’m rooming with Alisa again, you better believe I plan on bringing a REAL dildo. Grin. I highly recommend all of you experience RT at least once in your lifetime. It’s worth every single penny and every single breathing moment.
Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

My dearest Readers,
Now that I have your complete and undivided attention with an out of the blog box HOT picture (look, they remembered to wear their seatbelts like good citizens should…ah yes, but are they really safe?) I will let you in on a little, dirty secret everyone should know. A secret as to what this whole romance in the back seat of a car is really like and how I went for the best ride EVER with a person I didn’t even know while my husband’s brother watched.

Wait. Before you start thinking that I’m THAT sort of girl (shame on you), perhaps I ought to backtrack and tell you a little more about how I got involved in this whole thing. So. I get this e-mail from this person I don’t know. Terri Gloegger. She e-mails me telling me she’s going to be in town and asks if I would I like to climb into the backseat of her car while it’s being driven at 25 miles an hour, so I can talk about my book, Mistress of Pleasure. As she records it on her camcorder. Oh, yes. And she needed a driver for the car as she’ll be handling the interview and camcorder (hence my husband’s brother offers himself up…ehm). Why? Because she has this brilliant idea. Wherever she goes across the country, she plans on hooking up and interviewing published authors who will discuss their books from the backseat of a moving car. And the best part? Those videos will all be featured on one website. You got it. www.RomanceInTheBackSeat.com

When she asked, I simply couldn’t resist. I practically swooned, climbed into that back seat and let her have her way with me. It was SO much fun!!! If you’re an author, I suggest you e-mail her and climb into that back seat. If you’re a reader, I suggest you check out the website and watch the ride. It’s fresh. It’s fun. It’s Romance in the Back Seat. Of a car.

The next time I post, my interview which will feature both of my books, Mistress of Pleasure and Lord of Pleasure, will be up on the website and I’ll delve more into how that went and what it was like. Then you’ll be able to watch the final product itself. How cool is that?
Until then, cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

My dearest Readers,
As promised, I give thee part 2! So do any of you remember that Marriage Act from the last post? The one that had been set into motion in 1754 that forbade couples under the age of 21 from marrying without the consent of their parents? And all those new strict laws regarding special licences which could only be obtained from the Bishop and a whole list of other things to help prevent Fleet marriages? Now you do. Grin.

That particular Marriage Act was only law in England and Wales and not in any other parts of the Isles, like Scotland, Isle of Mann and Guernsey. With dangerous weather and water way passages, Scotland became the go to for couples who wanted to get around English laws. And guess what was the first village just over the border of Scotland? Gretna Green, but of course! In no time it became THE place to wed. So much so, countless historical romances have written about the subject and tossed around Gretna Green as if there wasn’t a single other village IN Scotland. (Which there were). Usually, the couple heading to Scotland was usually followed by angry family members wanting to put a stop to it and it’s said that Scots would sit on the border and place bets as to how long before certain carriage were followed. There were many times parents brought the bride’s husband to trial accusing him for abducting their daughter. Couples got around this by having the daughter pay for some of the expenses. To show just how WILLING she really was. Though in my opinion is was a cheap way for the groom to go…

Now all those stories and legends about a blacksmith marrying couples is actually just that. Stories and legend. With no truth. The story of the blacksmith came about because there were usually scam artists waiting about dressed like priests to marry couples and were described as having the build of a blacksmith when he took off with the couples’ money. Hence the stories. It was said about 100 couples a year got scammed by such individuals. And many didn’t even know they WEREN’T married! One man, David Laing, in 1827, in court, admitted to marrying couples for 48 years and charging as much as 50 pounds a couple! In 1856 Gretna Green faded away into the mist when a law made it illegal for a couple to marry in Scotland unless either the groom or the bride had been a resident of Scotland. Though for only three weeks…

There’s still so many things to touch on pertaining to traditions and rings and betrothals and superstitions, I could make this post go on and on and well…on. I suppose I should keep it simple and end this on the last note of practice that has been argued amongst British scholars left and right as to whether it truly did occur or not. Which of course, it did. And that was the selling of wives and wedding strangers THAT way. In 1886, Thomas Hardy’s The Mayor of Casterbridge made the story of wife selling famous. But from the middle ages up until the late 1800′s, it actually wasn’t all that uncommon as people think. Candice Hern wrote a fabulous story on wife selling called THE BRIDE SALE. And…ehm. So did I. Only mine never made it to print. But it did final in the Golden Heart. Twice. And who knows…maybe one day… That said, how did wife selling come about? It’s obvious. Women were a form of property. Why would wife selling NOT be popular? The wife to be ‘sold’ would be led to the square by a head collar. She’d be put on display and her faults and imperfections would be called out to the crowd looking to buy. One particular case known on record was in Carlisle in 1832 when 50 shillings was asked for but the wife was sold for twenty shillings and a dog. Men. I suppose I can only repeat the mantra, I love what I write but I’m damn glad I don’t live in the era I write.
Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

My dearest Readers,
I am currently writing a wedding scene for my latest book set in 1829 and because I absolutely LOVE research and always pick through all sorts of details to make sure that everything is as it should be, I came across some rather fascinating historical details that I just had to share. Now mind you, I can’t possibly cover ALL of them, as this post would be ridiculously long, but, I’ll definately post enough to make it worth your while. Oh. And this will be part 1 of 2. The second will be posted on the 15th of this month.

So. The word “wed” is actually Anglo Saxon and means to pledge. When the term originally came about, pledge actually didn’t refer to the wedding vows themselves. But rather the money or land that a groom handed over to the father of the bride.

Let us begin with the Romans, shall we? A Roman bride basically wore a white dress-like toga. Same color as is worn today. Her veil and shoes, however, were either red or yellow. Colors which were considered sacred to the Hymen. And uh, no, I’m not talking about THE hymen people…ehm…I’m speaking of the goddess of prosperity and fertility (though now you know where the word hymen originates from – waggling brows). The Roman bride would wear a garland of fresh flowers and carry several ears of wheat to further please the gods (ah, the good old days when flower arrangements were cheap). Once married, that night, the bride would be escorted by three young boys carrying candles to light the way, and they would travel to her husband’s home. There, she would quite literally be carried over the threshold by the bridal party (amazing how traditions are so far reaching, isn’t it?). The reason this was even done was because the Romans thought it was very unlucky for a bride to stumble on the threshold. So to avoid any bad fortune, she was simply carried over the threshold. What was unique about Roman marriages is that even though they were arranged, both parties had to be willing or the wedding wasn’t allowed to take place. So Roman women were actually quite lucky in that sense. If they *really* didn’t want to get married, they just put up a hand and said, “I think I’ll pass.” (Though I’m sure not in those same words)

Now what about how those best men and groomsmen? How did we end up with those? Well. We have the Anglo Saxons to thank for that. The Anglo Saxons went about things the Cave man way. If a man wanted a certain woman for a wife, he just had to hunt her down and drag her home to his abode and force her to marry him. You think he could manage a fiesty woman who most likely wasn’t going to cooperate on his own? Hell no. He needed back up. Hence the best man and groomsmen. They accompanied the “groom” on the hunt to ensure they not only got the “bride” but that should there be any resistance from the “bride’s” father or brothers, they could be handled. Talk about sweeping a woman off her feet!

And last but not least (as I promise to post part 2 on the 15th), Fleet marriages in London, England. My favorite. At the beginning of the 18th century, more and more weddings started taking place by special licence in which the ceremony itself was not in a church, but rather at the bride’s home. The whole idea of special licence was actually first introduced in the 14th century at about the same times banns were being required to be printed and read in the parish of the engaged couple. So basically, for three Sundays in a row, their upcoming marriage was announced to the world. Why? To allow any objections to surface during that time. Special licence became more popular however, because, at a fee, a couple could get married at any time and any place without the world knowing. By the 18th century, the upper classes who took offence to people rushing to be wed without the world knowing (after all, scandal could only be involved), it started to become known as “Fleet Marriages.” Why? Because the Fleet area of London was known for having several chapels that for a fee would perform the ceremony there and then. The priests didn’t give a rat’s you know what who was getting married and why as long as they got their money. If a girl was sobbing through the whole ceremony that she was supposed to marry someone else, if money was exchanged, she might as well be smiling. Which created quite a few problems (and stories).

One story goes that, and I quote, “The Duke of Hamilton married an 18 year old gal by the name of Miss Eliza Gunning at 12.30 a.m. at Mayfair Chapel on St. Valentine’s Day 1752. The marriage took place in such a haste that the duke hadn’t even purchased a wedding ring and he used a bed curtain ring (freak).” The freak, I put in, mind you. Just so you know. Grin. As it turned out Miss Eliza had been promised to someone else but the duke made sure that someone else was him. Talk about a crazy situation. And there were SO many of them! Too many to even count. It got so bad, actually, that in 1753 (hm…wait…that’s shortly after Miss Eliza got hitched against her will) Lord Hardwicke introduced what was known as the Marriage Act which made the church the one and only place legal for couples to marry. It also didn’t allow anyone under the age of 21 to marry without parental consent, and started making sure that Bishops weren’t just selling special licences to just anyone. Even though the law was passed in 1753, it took an entire year to take effect (imagine all the gals still getting married against their will during that year…). It became law throughout the land on Lady Day (how sweet), on March 25th 1754 at 11 a.m. (yes, they got it down to the minute). To close this particular post, I will say that on that same day before the law took effect at 11 a.m., 45 couples rushed over to the chapel that morning and got married. Long live marriage.

Until Part 2, Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

My Dearest Readers,
Yes…Twilight has taken the world by storm. Not since Harry Potter have we seen such a mania. Even my own daughter, who tries to go against the grain of what everyone else is crazy about, has melted beneath the charm of a vampire. Of course, I’m not going to spend my post talking about Twilight (though I could). I’m going to be delving into what I believe created that charm. Taking an understanding of the bad buy (vampire in this case) and turning him into someone we actually like.

As a writer, I am always fascinated how other writers approach “the bad guy.” And in some ways, realize that we all have a thing for bad boys. In trying to create the perfect combination between the bad boy/bad guy/hero that will make not just my audience swoon, but myself (and yes, I’m hard to please) I had to go looking for help. Hence the title of this post.

BULLIES, BASTARD & BITCHES is actually a book written by Jessica Page Morrell on How to Write the Bad Guys of Fiction. I don’t care if you’re a writer or not, buy, buy, BUY this book!!! And no, I’m not being paid to advertise it. The bottom line, it delves into every aspect of the Villain, the anti-hero, the bastard, the monsters, the devil, sociopaths, dark heroes and I can go on and on. I believe too many writers fall into the trap of creating the ULTIMATE villain. They turn what could be a potential creative twist into THE STANDARD. I have to say, I’m morbid. I rather like liking my villains. Not *loving* them, mind you, but liking them. In doing so, a three dimensional character is born. Because everyone, even Mr. Sociopath, has a human side even dog will wag its tail to. That is the struggle. To create a gentleman behind the guise. So…here’s a question to all you ladies (and gents, if you’re out there)…who is the villain who stole your heart either in a movie or book? And why? My villain? None other than Hannibal Lector from Silence of the Lambs. A true gentleman with the most disgusting of tastes who has the ability to romance even the weariest of hearts. Read the book and love your villains even more.
Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

My Dearest Readers,
I usually never repost from my blog www.DelilahMarvelle.blogspot.com but I simply could not resist because this post is WAY too delicious and many of you simply won’t find your way over to the dark side. So I am bringing the dark side to you. Grin.

It is quite by accident that I happen upon the most fabulous of books. Though perhaps not *quite* by accident. Considering where I happened to pick up a copy of this particular book I’ll be discussing: Sparticus. Now for those of you that don’t live in Portland, Oregon, Sparticus is a fabulous adult store with everything under the mattress a woman or a man would ever need. Lingerie, books, wigs, paddles, nipple rings, condoms, you name it. They have it. And if they don’t, they know where to get it. So I wandered in (after all, how can one simply walk by such a store and NOT go in?! T’would be a crime) and after passing the pasties, purple and pink wigs, twenty inch heels with tip jars attached to the bottom (I kid you not), and all the other kinky goodies, I headed for my favorite section in the entire store. And no, it wasn’t the dildo section, gentle readers, but rather, the book section. Honestly! A naughty writer needs naughty inspiration. So I spotted this fabulous reprint sitting on the shelf and simply fell in love with it. Because it captures an era that reflects times gone by in history. The book, HOW TO MAKE LOVE, SECRETS OF WOOING FROM THE 1930′s was the only thing I walked out with that day (well, actually, that’s not true, but I do not intend to post what else I walked out with as every girl has a right to her privacy…ehm)

So here is a basic overview of the book and why you MUST get your hands on it:
*It is a man’s perspective on love. From the 1930′s. (Bwahaha)
*Defines love as an art that can and must be perfected. (Bwahahahahahahahahahaha)
*There are so many great lines that will make every woman want to burn bras. And I quote, “Man was created strong. Woman was created weak. Therefore, it is up to the man to protect his woman. Woman is so physically constituted that she needs a man’s strong protection.”
*A woman must always be passive. (Because?….)
*Basic customs, such as laying out a cloak on a puddle as in olden days or holding the door open, helps the “basic necessity of establishing this strong-weak relationship as soon as possible…”
*The secret to lasting love: Understanding. (AMEN, brotha)
*Make sure that when you’re on the sofa and you want to “make your move” you do so in a manner so as to arrange that she is sitting against the arm of the sofa. So that she has no means of escaping. (Forced seduction, anyone?)
*Oh, and THE BEST LINES EVER to help a guy out with a gal and I quote as I’m holding back a gasp of horrified laughter: “If she flinches, don’t worry. If she flinches and makes an outcry, don’t worry. If she flinches, makes and outcry and tries to get up off the sofa, don’t worry. Hold her, gently but firmly, and allay her fears with kind, reassuring words. Remember what Shakespeare said about “a woman’s no.” However, if she flinches, makes an outcry, a loud stentorian outcry, mind you, and starts to scratch your face, then start to worry and start to get yourself out of a bad situation.”
*Flatter a woman. (The oldest and dirtiest trick in the book, I’d say)
* How to properly place one’s arm around a gal in the theatre. There is a right and a wrong way. The right way is to place your arm around her below the upper part of the chair so that no one will see you doing so. The improper way is to place your arm around her AND the seat for everyone to see and pulling her close.
*Love is entirely irrational and unless you understand that, you won’t ever understand love. (Um…that TOTALLY makes sense)
*Understand thyself. In turn, you will understand others. (This is actually damn good Dr. Phil stuff)
*Oh, and the best advice ever. Gentlemen. Do remember that 1+1=3. Amen.

Again, pick up this fabulous book. It really gives you an understanding as to the mentality of an America that we are still trying to break ourselves away from. Although I must say that it has a lot of very wonderful lines about love and relationships that deserve further scrutiny. The one thing that I most certainly noticed is that the whole notion and premise of the book which discusses “making love” cannot be compared to our definition of “making love.” For although kissing and techniques and so on is covered, A into slot B is not. It is more of a commentary to the men about love in general and the paths it leads them down. Which is really fascinating. Because the book really tries to “talk” to men about love and relationships in a very rational and concise manner. To the best of the author’s knowledge that is….

Until next time.

Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

My dearest Readers,
So today, it is my turn to post. And I didn’t even know it!!! Le sigh. I must admit, as of late, I have the memory of an ant. Though at this point, I think an ant has a better memory than I do… I apologize for myself and promise to give everyone a much better post the next time around.

That said, because I haven’t yet shared my new cover for my next upcoming release…I give thee…the cover for the second book in my School of Gallantry Series, THE LORD OF PLEASURE that will be out this August. Forgive its unimpressive size. I tried to blow it up, but it got all blurry…grumble, grumble…
You can see the full monty, however, at my website www.DelilahMarvelle.com.

Covers. Ah yes. They are always *so* much fun for an author to get. It’s like being pregnant for 9 months and not knowing whether you’re going to get a boy or a girl or an…alien. I’ve been pretty dang fortunate with all the covers I’ve received thus far, but being the type of person that I am, I intend to “strip” the cover down for you, Delilah Marvelle style.

Here is what went through my head when I got my cover:
Oooo…red.
OMGod…look at his chest!!! It takes up half the cover. But that’s good. That’s very good (despite what my husband thinks). Chests sell. Wait…his nipples are hard. Is he cold? He’s supposed to be hot, dang it, not cold!
Shirts really didn’t open up like that in 1830. So much for my historical detail. Le sigh. At least there’s a ruffle on the sleeve which indicates it’s historical. Or at least I hope it does…
Thank goodness they didn’t show his entire face. I wanted Beckham on the cover and while the man on the cover is very, very nice, he isn’t Beckham.
And what is with that colonial bed???? There isn’t a single scene throughout the entire story that showcases a bed (yet alone a colonial one). My characters are quite unconventional, thank you very much, and don’t require the use of a bed. But hey, it gets the point across. Man. Chest. Bed. I’m happy.

So…what are your thought on my cover? Be honest people….I promise I won’t cry. I also would love to hear what you love to see on covers and what you *hate* to see on covers.
Me? I’ll give it plain. I love it when you can’t see their entire faces. It leaves more to the imagination. A LOT MORE. What do I hate? When the book is historical but the cover looks contemporary. You have no idea how many good books I’ve skimmed past because I thought it was contemporary….
So until next time (which I promise will be more entertaining),
Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

According to a general poll that had been done in 1995 (yes, it desperately needs to be updated but it was all I could dig up at this moment) here are the top five things women find physically sexy in a man. Ranking from most popular to least.
1.)Height. Six Foot or taller. (Taller than six feet and I’m scared, truth be told…but then again, I’m 5’2″)
2.)Imposing body massiveness. (I am assuming they are referring to muscles. Not doughiness. Ehm)
3.)Broad shoulders (Oh, yes, please)
4.)A large YOU KNOW WHAT (Who says size doesn’t matter? Apparently it does)
5.)A full head of hair (As opposed to…?)

To take this a bit further, the dictionary defines sexy as “sexually exciting or excitingly appealing.” Hm. I suppose that would be a very stripped version (yes, pun intended) of what I would personally define as being sexy. Sexy to me is something that evokes my curiosity, sometimes causing me to mentally pause and sometimes causing me to physically stare. It could be all of these things combines or bits and pieces of them at a time. I do know this. Physicality is what catches my eye. But it isn’t what keeps it. And when I am writing about my hero and heroine, I usually have them follow my taste. To an extent. My favorite definition of sexy is this fabulous quote by Colette who was a French novelist: “When she raises her eyelids it’s as if she were taking off all her clothes.” Oh yeah. Now THAT is sexy.

So the two things that I find sexy? You will be proud to know that I am anything but superficial. I lace the physical with his character.
1.)His presence. Meaning he is neither overbearing toward others nor so shy that you have to lift a rock for him to crawl under.
2.)His mouth. The way he talks, the way he smiles, the ways he eats (ESPECIALLY the way he eats, LOL), the way he kisses, the way his lips move across his teeth and the way he conveys emotion through them.

So go on. Impress me. Define two things you find sexy.
Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle