Australian Romance Readers Awards – Sultry Scribes Nominated!

Congratulations to all those nominated for the ARRA Awards.

I’m thrilled to advise that several members of Sultry Scribes have been nominated for awards. They are:

Suzi Love’s Embracing Scandal has been nominated for Favourite Historical Romance.

Dakota Harrison, both her novels, Breathless and Exhale have been nominated in the Favourite Contemporary Romance section and Dakota has been nominated in the Favourite Australian Author and Best New Romance Author.

C.T. Green’s collection of short stories, The S.E.R.A. Files has been nominated in the Favourite  Paranormal Romance section and C.T. for the Best New Romance Author.

Sandra Harris’ Alien, Mine has been nominated for Favourite Sci-Fi, Fantasy or Futuristic Romance and Sandra has been nominated for Best New Romance Author.

Victoria Black’s Heavenly Revenge has been nominated in the Favourite Erotic Romance.
HeavenlyRevenge_SMAlienMineFinalxHiResSERA VOL 1 COVERExhale BookcoverBreathless BookcoverEmbracing_Scandal

Pinterest For Authors by Suzi Love 

I love Pinterest for keeping thousands of historical images in some sort of order.

And I love using Pinterest Boards as inspiration for my romance books.

What about you? Do you use Pinterest for planning something, or just for fun?

Need more hints for what to do with your boards and pins? Take a look at these fascinating articles on Pinterest.  

Find lots more Pinterest articles at :  Suzi Love 

And if you want even more Pinterest information and tips for becoming a power user, check out my Suzi Love Pinterest Boards :   118 Pinterest Boards 

Victoria, your twenty minutes start…NOW!

This flash fiction piece started its life as a squiggle. With all my artistic abilities, I scrawled a couple of funny little lines on my paper. My writer friend filled them in and came up with a woman in the surf.



Salt water threatened to drag me under. I struck out against the current. Another wave hit me. Bigger this time. I managed to gulp in a tiny breath before I was smashed down again. Rolling and tumbling in horrifying somersaults, fine sand ground into my eyes, my nose, my mouth. My lungs screamed for air. Glimpses of the blue sky far, far above mocked me.


My eyes fluttered open. Above me, leaning over my face, was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. Wet, black curls clung to his strong, tanned face. Concerned, questioning dark brown eyes, fringed by thick, black lashes, held my gaze.

“Amber?” he said again. A small hint of a pleading smile.

I sighed in admiration and closed my eyes again. If you’re going to be saved from the surf by a lifesaver, he may as well be lovely. It was amazing how great I felt, I thought in surprise. Peeking up again, I saw white, even teeth, a masculine blade of a nose, firm lips turned up at the corners.

He drew back to sit on his haunches, so I let my eyes flit down to the rest of him. His body matched his face. Lean, wide, bare shoulders, a rigid six-packed abdomen, and a chest with a smattering of delicious black curls that led down towell, tight fitting board shorts covered up that interesting area.

Two things hit me at the same time. I struggled to a sitting position, staring beyond my dark haired lifesaver to the empty beach beyond him. “Where is everyone? This place was packed when I went in the surf. And how do you know my name?”

His face fell. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such sadness. “You’re not my Amber,” he said, his voice flat. He set his jaw. Then, observing my bafflement, he smiled. A tight, disappointed smile with a hint of tenderness. “So many Ambers,” he mused.”

Totally at a loss, and just a little frightened, I forced my voice to be firm. “Did you rescue me?”

He nodded.

“Thank you

“Kieran,” he supplied, his eyes wistful, so sad.

“Kieran, thank you for saving me. But you haven’t answered my questions. Where have all the people gone? And how do you know my name? I don’t know you, do I?”

Silence stretched for so long, I wondered if he was going to answer me.

“There are no people here, because this is my Paradise. Mine and Amber’s.” He sighed, and said again, “So many Ambers.” He frowned. “Are you married?”

I shook my head, swallowing, searching the empty beach for some sign of life.

Kieran gave a half smile. “Good. I know that sounds crazy. You aren’t my Amber. You can marry anyone you want. But the last Amber was married to a guy called Dave, and it hurt. Crazy huh?”

He seemed to be talking more to himself than me, but I couldn’t agree with him more.

He seemed to observe my mounting fear, for he smiled again. A huge, sweet, comforting smile that worked. “Don’t worry, Amber. You’ll be fine. I’ll just keep waiting for my Amber. She’ll come.”

His lovely smile blurred, dimmed, darkened.

I woke up in a hospital bed.


My eyes fluttered open. I smiled up at the concerned, worried face of my sister.

(I’d love to know what you think this was about.)

Roxanne, Your Twenty Minutes Start…Now!

At our latest Sultry Scribes meeting, we wrote onto slips of paper, a noun, an adjective, and an emotion, then dropped those words into separate bowls. Each person then ‘lucky dipped’ to choose her own three words, all of which had to appear somewhere in her story.

My three words were: window, hungry, manic window

The Honourable Emily Honeywood shivered as a cold breeze brushed the back of her neck. She turned up the collar of her brother’s greatcoat and continued to stare in through the lighted window. Inside she could see the man she watched relaxed before the warmth of a roaring fire, with what looked to be a brandy in one hand and a book in the other. Lucien, Marquess of Thornbury appeared to be the epitome of gentlemanly refinement. But Emily knew otherwise. She had been watching him for three nights now and tonight she knew what she had to do.

Cold seeped up her legs despite her sturdy boots, and her stomach rumbled. How unladylike. Aunt Prue would be shocked. But Emily was hungry having had to skip dinner and plead a headache so that she would not be missed. But then Aunt Prue would be beyond shocked, she would be positively manic if she could see Emily now, standing in the shadows, dressed in her brother’s clothes, watching a gentleman.

As she continued to stare into the light she saw his lordship lay aside his book and stand. Emily’s hand shook as it closed about the gun in her pocket. The time was now.

Sandra, Your Twenty Minutes Start…Now!

At our latest Sultry Scribes meeting, we wrote onto slips of paper, a noun, an adjective, and an emotion, then dropped those words into separate bowls. Each person then ‘lucky dipped’ to choose her own three words, all of which had to appear somewhere in her story.

Shiny, brown, violin

My words were diffidence, violin and beautiful.

Diffidence trembled through Camilla as she stretched a hand toward the violin resting haphazardly on a shelf amidst a jumble of other discarded treasures. The old wood shone with the burnish of long use over many years. How much of the world’s beautiful music had flowed from its strings? How often had a musician held it against their breast in a loving embrace?

The occasional quiet knock and murmur of conversation echoed around the hushed ambience of the antique store. The smell of old wood and by-gone years settled like a presence in the cluttered space.

She ran her gaze over the imperfect surface of the instrument, searching for the marks that would identify it as the one she sought. Where the neck met the body, a blob of blue, aged to amber, and a dent shaped like a crescent moon just below it, spoke in silent affirmation. A surge of trepidation burned through her.

She reached a careful hand and turned the price tag. Her heart lurched against her ribs.

Could she afford to buy it?

A shiver twisted across her nerves.

Could she afford not to?