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It's so easy to make the ex a b*tch. I love writing female friendships, and I've written a whole lot of strong women in rough spots, not only the heroines, but also the side characters. When I wrote Commanding Casey, the plan was to write an evil ex. Cole has his views on Sandra, and they are not nice. Things ended badly between them. These things happen. When we're in his head we get to know her as cold-hearted and selfish. Then I wrote Sandra. We met her, and she didn't agree to the narrative at all. Turns out Sandra is a human being with good and bad sides, and she is quiet adorable. She also got her own book. Saving Sandra is now up for preorder. 
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https://twitter.com/NicolinaMartin/status/1347856615744167940?s=20 Experimenting with Twitter...   We're moving close to the yearly festivities, Christmas is around the corner for my family. Another thing that's around the corner is the release of Saving Sandra, and OMG is it anticpated! Keep an eye on this site, and if you haven't yet - sign up to my newsletter!
https://www.subscribepage.com/welcomenicolinamartin  I want to talk about how to get your book published. There are so many hopeful people who fall victim to the predators out there, and I hope this can save at least a few from emptying their bank account.
There are four routes to getting your exciting, well-written, polished, beta read, and self-edited book out to an audience:
Best of luck, everyone!  These are exciting times for sure.
My first anthology. My first Daddy book. 2020 has been like no other year, for so many reasons. Many of us feel the same: out of control, like we need a life coach, or for someone to gently take hold of us and carry us through the rough days. I dug deep into my own well of need when I wrote Carrie and Misha. I fight every day to stay upright and carry on, and I'm not known for asking for help. That is surely one of my bigger downfalls. With Carrie, I had to find the softness in me and put aside my 'can self' attitude. I had to let Misha in. Carrie is used to taking care of others, and of managing everything herself. Misha sees her need, but he also recognizes that she will not bend easily. She doesn't know how to allow him to worship her and care for her. It makes for some interesting clashes between them... *** NEW EXCERPT: *** 'He smiles and squares his shoulders while tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “I know why you haven’t called the cops on Daddy.” Daddy. That word again. He can’t know of the rush that shoots through me when he says it, about the depths of my need for someone to see me, to want me, to care for me for once. I put my hands on my hips. “Yeah? And why is that?” He leans in. I have nowhere to go. Closer. A breath away. “Because you want more.” I inhale to object, because it’s in my nature to do so, but he steals my thought, then my mind, my will, and finally my breath, as he presses his lips against mine in a kiss that is over all too soon. “Come, Miss Ellerbrock. You will be late.” He takes my hand and places it in the crook of his arm, and then we walk. Or he walks. I stumble after him, dazed. My senses are swamped by him: the taste of Russian gangster on my lips, his spicy scent in my nose, the muscles in his arm coiling beneath my fingers. I want to sniff him all over and fill my lungs with that edible scent, but I lift my chin and keep my nose to myself. I want to squeeze and see what he feels like, if he’s made of stone or flesh, but I force my touch to remain light. He follows me inside, making a lap around the kitchen, his hands clasped behind his back, as if he’s surveying his new domain. After looking through the rooms in the basement, he disappears upstairs for a while. I get to work preparing dough, the whole time acutely aware of his existence somewhere in the vicinity. “I will come to pick you up after work. Do you close at six? Do you always walk?” I almost jump through the roof, my heart shooting to my throat. “Fuck!” Misha holds up my tiara and puts a hand on my shoulder, turning me toward him. He tuts as he strokes some hair off my face and then carefully puts the tiara in place. “Such a foul mouth on such a pretty girl. I told you no swearing. Tonight, you will receive ten slaps for your disobedience. Say ‘yes, Daddy, I understand.’” I stare at him, speechless. My mouth falls open but no words come out. He waits. For me. To be coherent. “Carrie. With every second you wait with your answer, I will add a slap. I can be patient, but this is tiring.” “Yes, Daddy, I understand!” I blurt out. Hot and cold run along my back. The chill makes my heart tremble while the heat settles between my legs. What the hell did I just agree to? A beautiful smile spreads across his face. “Good girl. I will work on your reward.” I gasp and widen my eyes. “Reward?” His smile turns into a smirk. “After you have taken your punishment.” The pathetic mewl that climbs up my throat makes my cheeks burn in fierce competition with my pussy.' *** Pre-order today for just $0.99 ~ LIMITED TIME ONLY Release date: September 29,2020 Universal link: https://books2read.com/Dirtydaddies2020  I was so lucky to be invited to write for the Dirty Daddies Anthology 2020.
I had to dig deep to find Carrie in me. I'm a woman who refuses to see that need I have for someone to care for me, and take care of me. But it was there. It IS there. Despite this being a 'simple steamy story' on the surface, this was not an easy story to write for me because I had to do some real soul searching and it brought up needs and longings that I have buried DEEP. I had to make myself feel vulnerable again. I had to become Carrie. I also really want to revisit their world. ;) There are many more stories there. 𝙈𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙖 𝙞𝙣 𝙎𝙐𝙂𝘼𝙍 𝙋𝙍𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙀𝙎𝙎: sweet bookstore owner clashes with Russian gangster. Something about her evokes his need to own and protect. Everything about her makes him want to bend her over his lap and spank that obnoxious resistance out of her. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫! 𝟐𝟓 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝟗𝟗𝐜! 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 . 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞! 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐨𝐫 𝐋𝐆𝐓𝐁𝐐 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐎𝐓, 𝐫𝐚𝐰, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲! Featuring Stories by NYT, USA TODAY and International Bestselling Authors: Pre-order yours now! books2read.com/Dirtydaddies2020 𝘌𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘚𝘜𝘎𝘈𝘙 𝘗𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘊𝘌𝘚𝘚, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘈𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺: I shoot forward, wrap my arms around her waist and yank her to me, falling on my back with the girl on top of me. The air is slammed out of my lungs, and I gasp as I twist us around until I have her pinned beneath me. There is no stopping her struggles. I need to change tactics or I’ll have to use a lot more force than I want to. I have no intention of hurting Miss Ellerbrock. I don’t know why I’ve been so obsessed with her, but spanking her in that office, smelling the excitement all over her, has rendered me sleepless since. Squeezing her throat, more as a warning than to cut off her breathing, I put my mouth to her ear. “Calm down, little one. I don’t want to hurt you, girl.” She freezes, her breaths come as short gasps. “What?” Realizing I spoke to her in my mother tongue, I dare to free one arm and push some of the blonde locks off her cheek so I can catch her gaze. Huge blue eyes stare at me, frightened. Understandably. Sadly. That’s who I am, all I have ever been, the cruel enforcer. “Come on, get up. Stop fighting me.” I push up and jump to my feet, offering her my hand. She’s still flat on her belly, eyeing my hand, the door behind me. She moves faster than I expect, kicking out her foot, hitting my legs. Russian has many more colorful curses than English, and a long string of them passes my lips as I pounce on her. “You are begging for trouble!” I straddle her and push up her arms against her back, circling her wrists with one hand while I bear down the other on her delicious full ass. Smack. “Stop.” Smack. “Fighting.” Smack. “Me.” She hollers and tries to get loose, but I have her now, perfectly bundled up beneath me, and I’m going nowhere. Everything about her screams of loneliness, and of the need for a firm hand. Everything about her invites me in. She is chaos. I am order. She is fiery embers. I am permafrost. “Please! What do you want?” “Who am I?” “I don’t know!” she yells. “What do you need?” She squirms, but only manages to trap herself tighter between my thighs. My cock is unapologetically hard, twitching, weeping to be freed of its restraints. It would be so easy to put my hand between her legs, coax her ready for me, make her shake with reluctant need before I pull down her pristine white cotton panties and bury myself to the hilt in her pussy. Her face is flushed, she’s still fighting. “I need you to get off me.” “No. That’s not what you need. You need some order back into your life.” “What are you talking about? Get off me! You’re heavy!” “Look at this place, Miss Ellerbrock. Look at the state you’re in. Look at the mess in the kitchen.” I lean in and catch her gaze, then I turn my head to look at the floor under a chair that stands before us. “And look at the size of… what do you call it? Dust bunnies? And you haven’t taken care of your business for three days.” “You’re not my daddy!” I tut. The sound makes her flinch slightly. “But you are in desperate need of one.” I slide a hand past her hip, down along the delicious curvature of her bottom, where warm skin meets my fingers. The girl trembles, holds her breath, and waits. She knows what’s coming. I feel it in my bones. She waits, wants, needs, just as much as I do. I raise my arm and then bear down on her ass. She squeals. “Aren’t you?” “No!” I slap her again, just hard enough to sting and leave a quickly fading blush. “Tell me you need a Daddy.” “Never.” She jerks and screeches, trying to get me off her. I smack her again. “Tell me you want me to take care of you.” “No!” My palm connects with the naked skin on her ass, a tad harder than before. “You have no control over your business. You’re on the edge of ruin. You live in a pigsty. Your father’s house is owned by another man. Tell me again you don’t need me.” “I—I don’t need you, you—pervert!” I remind her with a firm smack of the consequences of being mouthy with me. She gasps and then grits her teeth. “I am going to take care of you, Carrie Ellerbrock. I’m going to free you. But there will be a price.”  Sometimes the cover that you love so dearly just doesn't seem to resonate with the market. When designing the first for cover for Eve, my bleeding heart went with my love for the main characters, and that ethereal feel of the book. It completely missed the post apocalyptic setting and the steam.
I've worked back and forth, trying to get a feel for what conveys the heat, the despair, the tenderness, and the hope of the book. No one needs to see ALL the cover attempts that have been put aside. lol. But here we are: I present to thee: Eve 2.0. Hm, hey, that could be a title for the next book :P |
At the pen
I'm an author of suspenseful romance with some kink and lots of feels. Archive
January 2021
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