So, what have we got? First off the website actually WORKS now. I got so sick and tired of buying premium themes that DIDN’T DAMN WELL WORK that I knuckled down and coded what I want myself. Most of it’s in place now but there will be a few tweaks as we go along. If you notice something that doesn’t work properly, drop me a line at mina AT mina-carter.com and I’ll fix it pronto!

On the agenda now is writing. Lots of. I have stories that had backed up a little to be finished and some joint projects that I’m giving serious attention to at the moment. I’ll let you know as things progress.

Other than that I’ve been on a serious Supernatural kick recently, so I leave you with something pretty to look at…

Knight’s Woman
Mina Carter
Kurt Drake
ISBN 978-1-59578-719-4

The United Terran Colonies are under attack. Desperate for pilots to combat the enemy raiders the Fleet puts out an all pilots call, hoping to fill their empty fighter squadrons. A call ignored by ex-con Radha Kaden, who figures she doesn’t owe anyone anything. Since a pilot’s life expectancy is slightly less than that of your average lemming, she steers well clear.

Then a bar brawl violates the terms of her release and she has a choice. Go back to Acheron, the harshest prison facility in the combined systems, or pilot a fighter…

Thanks to high casualty rates Wing Commander Davin McAvoy constantly needs new pilots. Dead men can’t fly Valkyries nor can they protect the base or her crew. When he’s told he’s getting that rarest of creatures—an experienced pilot—he’s ready to throw a party. Until he finds out not only is his new pilot an ex-con but she’s a woman too. Both unforgiveable sins in Davin’s book.

Until he meets her and sparks that have nothing to do with the war fly…

Read An Excerpt Here

Buy at LSB

When Janelle’s friend offers to help with the housework, she doesn’t think it will include any hocus pocus. Not convinced it will work Janelle recites the incantation and summons a domestic god. He cooks. He cleans. He even does the ironing. The trouble is Corvin isn’t your typical wraith. In fact, he’s not a wraith at all but a demi-god looking for love…

Buy Link

Wicked Wraiths: Man About the House
Mina Carter
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Mina Carter

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Like most men, Corvin had always had an idea of what would happen the moment he met the woman of his dreams. The usual romantic moment where their eyes met across a crowded room and, Corvin being male, the normal “getting to know you” crap was minimal, replaced instead by a bout of hot, sweaty sex en route back to his apartment.

In all his thinking on the subject, which was rare since men as a whole and Corvin in particular didn’t tend to think in happily ever after — more happily for now, preferably ones involving blow jobs — he certainly hadn’t expected said moment to occur at the worst possible time for romance.

Namely, when he was in drag.

“Jesus Christ, these heels are fucking killing me.” Hex stumbled into Corvin’s back. “How do women wear these things?”

“Intelligence and a higher pain threshold than you pathetic men,” Storm, the only girl in their trio, threw back. The comment earned her a sneer from Hex as he tried to negotiate climbing onto a barstool in a miniskirt and the heels he was complaining about.

One eye on the woman and one on the farce unfolding to his left, Corvin had to smother a smile as Hex approached the puzzle in his usual manner, bull in a china shop.

“Would you two give it up and get a fucking room sometime this century?” Corvin’s voice was bored as he slid behind the opposite side of the table to Hex. Both of his friends turned toward him, horror and disgust on their faces.

“What, with him?”

“…her? You gotta be fucking kidding me. I’d rather screw a keres demon.”

“You look like a fricking keres demon!”

“Better than sounding like a harpy all the time!”

Corvin shook his head as the two started to squabble again. They were perfect for each other; they just couldn’t see it. One day he was going to lock them up together in a room for a weekend. They’d either kill each other or fuck each other’s brains out. Either way, he’d get some peace.

A waiter approached their table, and Corvin let Hex order as he looked for his dream woman again. The club was crowded but they’d had no trouble getting a table. They never did. Known as the god pack, all three had divine blood but they weren’t full demi-gods, just the offspring of a few.

Hex was the son of Hecate so he threw a mean spell when pushed or pissed off, which was often. Storm’s mother was Tempestas, Goddess of Storms — even deities struggled for originality when naming their offspring — and she’d inherited her mother’s temper. Last but not least, Corvin’s mother was Minerva, Goddess of Poetry, Medicine, Crafts, Magic… blah, blah, blah.

Corvin wrinkled his nose and glanced past his friends again. There she was, over on the other side of the bar, collecting empty glasses. Corvin took a moment to admire her. Small and curvy, her dark hair was pulled back from a heart-shaped face and clipped up to reveal the slender curve of her neck. His gaze devoured her as she turned, and the sensual curve of her breasts was outlined for a moment in the club lights as she tried to juggle glasses.

Lust hit him like one of Cupid’s arrows. Or rather would have if the God of Love hadn’t said “fuck it” and gone AWOL last year after breaking up with his latest squeeze.

“Need a piss, back in a minute,” Corvin announced as he slid off his stool. Still squabbling, Hex and Storm didn’t notice his departure. Corvin put them from his mind as he negotiated the crowded club, heading toward his target like a tiger on the prowl.

I know this topic has been covered many, many times by people far more eloquent than I am but sometimes you just have to chime in on a subject, you know? The other day one of my google alerts caught a question on Yahoo answers of all places asking where they could find a free downlod of Playing with Fyre, one of my Lyrical releases. Luckily someone was quick off the mark answering and replied with something along the lines of ‘what you’re asking is illegal, Mina writes for a living and, as such, doesn’t give her work away for free’. (whoever this person was, I couldn’t find an email to thank you, so…well, thank you )

Now technically this isn’t piracy, this person was just asking a question but it highlights (to me anyway) a basic lack of understanding about eBooks. Ie – that they’re free just because they’re available on the internet and this leads into a far more disturbing arguement from the diehard pirates that everything on the internet is theirs for nothing, by right.

Huh? Right? I don’t get this part. I and other authors work long and hard to produce a product (yes, stories are a product when you  get down to the nitty gritty of publishing). We spend long hours in front of a screen, hammering away at keys to create something entertaining, beautiful, wonderous and all that…Those are hours we could be spending with family, going to see a movie, hell reading books instead of writing them. Enjoyable things instead of the sometimes painful process of creating a story (although, don’t get me wrong, sometimes writing is the best feeling in the world! And sometimes it sucks). But we do it, we write, we edit, we polish the story and then we proudly announce it’s for sale.

And then find a pirate copy on Astatalk within 24 hours. Which people are downloading for nothing, free, zip, nada.

Sorry, correction. These people are not downloading, they are stealing. Each download steals from the publisher, the editor, the cover artist…basically anyone who had anything to do with prepping the book for release…and last but not least, the author.

It gets worse. These people actually request books from others, who then go and buy them with the intent of pirating them. They’re proud of what they do, they boast about it. They hold little competitions about avoiding detection (which then triggers an author or publisher takedown request).

You know what the end result is? Authors stop writing. Yeah, you heard me. Authors will stop writing the stories these people (and other, legitimate fans) claim to love and wait with baited breath for.

Why?

Simple math really. You spend X hours doing something that brings you in $20 a month, then the pirates start up and that $20 dwindles to 15, or 10 or less. You need to pay bills, or even you could have all those hours as quality family time…well, it’s a no-brainer, ain’t it?

So what do we do about it?

Not much we as authors can do, except send multitudes of take down orders to all these ratty little sites and wait for a) abuse from the pirates b) spam and c) spam. Did I mention spam? I did, good.

The other part is up to you guys, the readers. All we authors ask is you support us by buying our books, not downloading them from torrent sites. We’re not talking a lot, a couple of quid or bucks…it’s not gonna break the bank. Buy from the publisher, hell go and buy from Fictionwise or Amazon if it’s cheaper. I normally don’t say that as they take a HUGE cut and us authors get less but, as long as you’re getting a legal download, it doesn’t matter.

You might not think that you doing that makes a difference but every journey is made up of small steps and, believe me, you’ll be making a huge difference to the authors whose work you love to read!! And, by helping, you’ll probably be keeping some of them writing…

So, what have I been up to recently. Other than managing to delete all my themes and having to do an emergency recode of course! Well, I’ve been finishing up a longer length sci-fi story, which is just about ready for submission now *tigger dances* and I’ve been doing a fair bit of artwork. These two are for a series I have plans for, just need an extra ten hours in the day to write!!

Guardian Concept Poster by ~Raven3071 on deviantART

Guardians: Seline Concept Art by ~Raven3071 on deviantART

Edan is a loner, pure and simple. A loner with one goal in life, to avenge the twin killed in an illegal cage fight four years ago. With no body to mourn, Edan takes his twin’s place in the ring to save as many paranormals as he can from the brutal sport.

Paranormals like Dualla’s aunt Melody, saved from a rich human’s “collection.” Restored to her tribe, the older mermaid tells tales of her handsome and enigmatic rescuer, tales that have the younger women of the Romani mer-tribe in flutters.

Everyone except Dualla. Half mer, half… something else, she’s always been the odd one out. A healer like her mother, she’s had the same dream for years — dreams of a man who is more than a man, and a dragon with purple scales who sets the sea on fire. A warrior to her mystic. A man with a broken heart… one Dualla knows she was born to heal.

Excerpt:

Dragon Kin: Siren’s Seduction
Mina Carter
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Mina Carter

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

The fight was over. Two hundred pounds plus of defeated cage fighter hit the floor, groaning his pain into the matting. Victorious, Edan spun in the centre of the ring, sweat-soaked blond hair whipping around his shoulders as he looked for his next target.

There wasn’t one.

He’d won.

He roared in triumph. The crowd gasped as he loosed his hold on the dragon within and gave the creature full voice. The window panes, set high in the walls, rattled, and glasses danced over the tables with the force of the sound. His dragon drew closer to the surface, scales pressing against the inside of his skin as his bones ached with the effort of holding it inside.

Edan lifted his head and looked around the crowd as he forced the creature to recede. He didn’t bother to hide the contempt written across his face. The room was filled. Every seat at every table occupied for this blood-thirsty spectacular. He recognized politicians, police chiefs and wealthy businessmen. Kneeling at their feet, wearing near identical collars and expressions of misery, were their paranormal “pets.”

Edan gritted his teeth until his jaw ached with the pressure. He could see numerous weres and several variety of fae. Nothing too powerful of course… certainly nothing like him. A dragon would take this place apart in seconds if anyone was stupid enough to even try and put a collar on it.

“And the winner is… Edan Lisander!” The announcer’s voice rolled around the small room.

Mac, Edan’s owner, ducked into the cage to grab Edan’s wrist, shoving it into the air in the traditional winner’s salute. “Good job, big guy. Thought you were a goner at one point.”

Dark haired and lean, Mac appeared human. Especially next to Edan, who looked like he could break the smaller man in half. Nothing could be further from the truth. In Mac’s case, what walked and talked like a duck was anything but a duck.

Edan knew if he tried anything, he’d just end up bruising his knuckles. Mac was a gargolye; one of the only creatures who could suck up more damage than a dragon. Which made them perfect partners — a deadly duo in their bloody little game.

“Pfft, to him?” Edan nodded at the crumpled figure of his opponent. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. He couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag, no matter how much Fairy-dust they pump into him.”

Like his contempt, Edan didn’t bother to hide his disgust. The guy had been high before he stepped into the cage, and there was nothing that pissed Edan off quicker than a user. Particularly one who thought he was the biggest bad-ass out there. Of course, there had been nothing else for it… Edan had been forced to introduce him to the mesh of the cage several times.

“Oh yeah?” Mac threw back, “I suppose hitting his fist with your face was part of you wearing him down then?”

“Behave.” Edan bit out while Mac paraded him around the cage like a good little pet. “Or you’ll end up as a garden ornament. A butt-ugly one.”

“Yeah, yeah, you and whose army, scale-boy?”

Edan just shook his head. Mac had the gift of the gab for sure. “So, how’d we do?”

Mac’s grin was quick, the look in his silver eyes almost feral. “We got him bang to rights. Bastard was counting on his boy winning this fight and for you to take a fall in the fourth. Right about now he’s making a run for it with the takings.”

“We’ve got all his escape routes covered?”

Edan ducked out of the cage, slipping a little on the blood and snot by the hatch but recovering within a second. He slanted a look over his shoulder in the vain hope that Mac wouldn’t notice it and go arse over tit. No such luck. For a creature made of the biological equivalent of granite, the gargoyle was damned light on his feet.

Mac threw a towel around the dragon’s neck as Edan flopped into a chair near their “corner.” “Of course, what do you take me for? No matter where he runs, Steel and Reese’ll track him down.”

Edan used the edge of the towel to wipe the sweat from his face. They’d spent too long tracking Carmicheal down, put in too many man hours getting their ducks in a row, for it to all go to shit now. With heavy hitters like Steel and Reese on the case though — both of whom had more than enough reason to hate Carmicheal’s guts — Edan didn’t have to worry about anything. Well, other than the two weres ripping each other to pieces.

Edan’s eyebrow arched. “You sure it was a good idea to put those two together?”

Mac shrugged. “They’ll either work out their differences or kill each other. Either way, I won’t have to put up with their bitching and bellyaching about each other anymore. I call it a win-win situation.”

Edan snorted a laugh and reached up. Gathering his hair at the nape of his neck, he snapped a band around it.

“What the fuck? What do you mean he’s gone? I put good money on this fight and I want my damn winnings!”

The shrill voice of complaint was just the first. Before either Edan or Mac could turn and identify the speaker, more voices had joined the fray. The noise in the room increased as the crowd realized there might be a problem.

“Looks like the peasants are revolting.” Mac threw the bigger man his shirt and grabbed Edan’s bag. “Come on, big guy, time to haul ass before things get ugly.”

The shirt hit Edan mid-stomach as he rose to his feet, his movements graceful even after seven rounds and a pounding in the cage. His attention wasn’t on Mac though. Instead, it was riveted on the other side of the room where a fish tank covered the wall. In fact, it was the wall, he realized, now he got a good look at it. There was something in there, something big.

“You go on. I’ll be out in a moment.”

Interested? Want to know what was in that tank and the secret Edan’s hiding? Head on over to Changeling…

Now what you have to understand about writers is that they are a very ‘special’ breed. Writing, as I’ve said before, tends to be a solitary activity. Job specification includes parking your rear end in the seat and applying your fingers to the keyboard for large amounts of time. Hours a day. HOURS a day I tell you. You become hermit like, and rather crabby, carving time out of a day where-ever you can to get the words down on the screen. Like at the time of this writing, I’m up this morning at 5am to get some ‘me-time’ before the house becomes bedlam with people getting up and needing to be herded towards their day, where-ever that might be.

So, solitary endeavour, check. PC, check. Interwebs, check. Heard the phrase ‘birds of a feather flock together’? That’s what happens in this little room. Writers are people and need contact (in fact some of us are attention loving little bunnies) so we tend to gravitate into groups. Hence ‘the place’.

Here there is an arcane little atmosphere. Discussions are wide and bizarre, anything from dicussions about cock rings, right through to the mating habits of the lesser spotted patagonian fighting hamster. Cries of ‘to the google’, and ‘to the wiki’ abound as vital information for the writing going on off im-screen is sought. In this place the posting of a link to a picture of a hot guy can halt production for at least ten minutes as various attributes of said hottie are debated and various characters he may be suitable to represent are suggested. (which normally results in pairing up with a heroine and we deny any responsibility for plot bunny formation as a result of this process or resultant spamming of publisher’s inboxes with submissions)

Stories are formed, written, posted, debated, picked apart and polished. Writing partnerships are formed, Critiquing is arranged. Reading is paramount, especially the sexy bits. Characters are named and renamed. It’s a melting pot of creativity.

*plot bunny hops into view, looks at screen, spilts into two, both hop off. In different directions*

Yeah, that happens a lot. And starfish? They do poop…

After losing her job due to the economy, and her fiancé due to a skinny chick, Trisha moved out to Missouri to be with her sister. While caring for her niece and nephew she runs into the two handsome hunks who own a neighboring property. What she does know is that both want her, and neither cares that she is a BBW. What she doesn’t know is that they’re not what they seem to be. Oh, and they’re already lovers.

Read an Excerpt

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1335