Welcome to Julia Talbot's blog!

Welcome, everyone! Here's where I blather about writing, life with my partner BA, and my two basset hounds! I love to hear from readers, so comment here or email me!

Monday, March 02, 2015

Monday travels

Spending today traveling to Orlandoo to go to the Dreamspinner author meet.

Sean Michael, BA and I are going to Disney for a few days ahead of time. Kiernan Kelly has promised to do Epcot with us.

Thank God for the house sitter.

Downtown Disney had GF fish and chips. OMG

Expect many goofy instagram posts



Friday, February 27, 2015

Setting the record straight

Dear Curious:

Turtlehat Creatives is a self-publishing venture for BA Tortuga, Julia Talbot, and some of our other writing names, like BA's horror/gen pseudo Dallas Coleman and my kinky one, Minerva Howe. Mostly we intend to do reprints that need some new life or just never fit in with the publisher we put them out with, a la the menage stuff.

This is where I set the record straight, people. I am no longer a publisher. Why? Not because I can't be one, but because I DON"T WANT TO ANYMORE. I don't like spending hours hunched over royalty reports. I don't like being responsible for 200 other people's typos. I became a publisher because no one else was publishing what I wrote. That was 2003, people. In case no one has noticed, Harlequin is now doing menage and M/M. I would much rather give someone half the profits and let them do my editing and promoting.

I've been very clear about Turtlehat being a self-publishing concern. Turtle for Tortuga. Hat for me, whose logo used to be a big pink sun hat. Soon we intend to use that name to sell art on Etsy, too. Just in case anyone was even more curious about how we want to spend our time post publishing retirement.

Life is strange, y'all. Do we have to make it stranger by tilting at windmills that don't exist?




Wednesday, February 25, 2015

betas are nerve wracking

I always think betas are more nerve-wracking than edits. My editor gets paid to tell me what's wrong, what's right. But my beta readers, in general are family, friends, and fellow authors. I worry that they'll hate my story. I worry that they'll tell me what's wrong and I won't be able to fix it. I want to know what they think RIGHT NOW.

Yeah, can you tell my femme dom is at beta?



Tuesday, February 24, 2015

need to blog- top five reasons not to

5- I'm tired

4-I'm lazy

3- I want more dump cake

2-The dog doesn't want me to type

1-I'm too busy watching the Voice

Y'all go read a book instead, huh?

One of mine



Sunday, February 22, 2015

new flash fiction from Minerva Howe - my kinky side

Some original flash fiction for y'all

“Stop it. You stop it right now!” Brant felt laughter bubbling up in his chest, but he kept the smile off his face. Paul was stalking him, threatening him with a spanking, and Brant was trying to egg him on, not dissolve into chuckles.

Pretty tough, considering Paul was wearing a robe emblazoned with the coyote and roadrunner from the old cartoons and a pair of wolf slippers, both gifts from Brant. God, he loved giving his so dignified lover some very strange clothes. Paul wore every crazed outfit, too, showing off for him, proving his gifts had value.

Still, it was hard to take his andoni seriously when he resembled an escapee from Looney Tunes.

Paul growled, the vampire sound completely different from a wolf noise. “No stopping me, dabi. Your ass is mine tonight.”

“It’s yours every night.” Brant ducked around the sofa, skidding on the glossy hardwood floor of Paul’s cabin mansion. He raced around the big table in the entry hall, heading for the media room down the hall.

“Yes, and I wish to warm it with my hand.”

When Brant looked back the robe was flying, Paul shrugging out of it as he watched to let it ride the air like a magic carpet. The slippers went next, and Paul was naked. A pure, leanly muscled, apex predator. A thrill rushed up his spine, and Brant turned at the next hall, putting on a burst of speed to get them to the playroom.

Might as well be comfy. If Paul caught him in the hall, his ass wasn’t the only thing that would be raw. His elbows and knees would suffer, too.

The doorway taunted him when Paul caught him two feet from it, tackling him to the floor.

“Asshole! Let me go.” He loved fighting. Brant had fought Paul for real to begin with, and fought his inner wolf when the stupid animal declared Paul his mate. Now Brant fought because the struggle excited him, aroused him, and made Paul work just a little harder for what was his.

“No. I want to feed, dabi.”

His cock jerked, making it even more difficult to crawl away. Brant inched along until he dragged them into the playroom. “I don’t want that,” Brant lied, wiggling and kicking.

Paul laughed, the sound utterly confident. “You are so hard. I can smell how close the thought make you to coming, my love.”

“Shut up.” Brant growled the words, his ass cheeks clenching. He wanted Paul’s hands, wanted those fangs sliding into a vein. God, he wanted everything. So greedy.

“I hear your thoughts, dabi. You want me as much as I want you.”

Yes. So true. He wanted everything Paul could give him. Rolling to his back, he reached for Paul, wanting the press of that pale skin against his, the long, heavy cock.

Paul gave him what he wanted, sliding down to cover him. “I love when you run, dabi. You know that.”

“I know. Just as you love it when I give in.” He rolled up as far as he could, begging a kiss.

Paul gave it to him, taking his mouth, tongue pushing in. Those blade-sharp fangs slid against his lower lip, drawing blood. He bucked, his hips rolling, his cock pressing against Paul’s lower belly. They moved together, and Brant clung to Paul’s shoulders.

“Going to bite you now, my dabi. I want you to come for me when I do. Do you understand?”

Brant nodded, knowing this would just be the beginning. They were in the magical playroom Paul had constructed; they had all night.

He threw his head back, offering his throat, and Paul struck with lightning quickness, fangs punching through his skin. Brant screamed, the sound morphing into a howl, his muscles seizing up when he shot against Paul’s skin.

Paul moaned, easing back until he was just feeding idly, licking at Brant’s skin. Paul’s cock never eased a moment, and Brant knew it would be inside him soon, and he smiled up at the ceiling, so ready to see what the night held.

As long as Paul didn’t put that silly robe back on.


Paul and Brant are featured in Chosen Wolf, my first Minerva Howe release from Resplendence Press. I just turned in the sequel to my editor, called Found Vampire.

Friday, February 20, 2015

Flashback Friday: An Itch to Scratch

Been wanting to feature some of my older titles for a bit, so here's An Itch to Scratch. Chronologically, it's the first Bloodrose book, and it was the second I wrote. It has a great new cover! Look!

So here's all the pertinents.

Deke has a terrible itch to scratch. He's a werewolf looking for a safe place to get his addiction on; Deke loves to feed vampires. When he finds himself at Bloodrose, an exclusive club that caters to supernatural creatures, Deke thinks he might be at the right place, somewhere he can find a kindred spirit.

Kasey is the vampire who ends up sponsoring Deke at Bloodrose, knowing that he has to have Deke for his own. The heat between them is immediate, but it's sharing the small details of their lives that makes Kasey and Deke think they might have something special together. Can they find a way to scratch Deke's itch?

K.C. Arlington generally had no problem with impulse control.

He only had a membership at Bloodrose because that was what one did. In this day and age, procuring your own meal as a vampire was déclassé, and not a little dangerous. A carefully selected group of feeders was a better idea, and at least at Bloodrose many of those feeders were as dangerous as he was.

There was also the whole issue of work. A private detective, Kasey had to work all night sometimes, and the club provided a safe place to bring a nice meal for a day of play.

Really, though, he could take or leave most of the offerings that came up in Bloodrose’s monthly catalogs. The hired help was good enough for him; he didn’t need an exclusive contract with anyone.

Which was why he couldn’t really understand his urge to attend Jonny’s latest auction.

Maybe it was more like a compulsion.

It wasn’t like the ad was all that enticing. The picture was grainy and poorly lit, looking like something from one of those little photo booths at the shopping centers that mortals loved so. Shaggy hair and a square jaw dominated the black and white, and the eyes seemed to glow like they were more canine than human, with the shine of a nocturnal animal.

The description no more suited Kasey’s taste than the photo. “Werewolf with itch to scratch seeks hungry vampire.”

Who in the world came up with this shit?

Still, his fingers did the walking, and he found himself dialing Jonny’s number on his cell, intent on asking a few idle questions. Merely for the sake of curiosity, of course.


Kasey had dialed Jonny’s private number; no personal assistant for him. “Jonny. K.C. Arlington.”

“Kasey! What a pleasant surprise. You haven’t been in for weeks.”

“I’ve been on a rather labor intensive case.” He liked Jonny, and thought perhaps he should make a date to play chess, rather than wasting his time on a stray wolf.

“Well, then, all the more reason to rest and relax. When are you coming in?”

“Actually, I was thinking of attending the auction.” Damn it, that had slipped out entirely against his will. Where was his self-control?

“Ah.” There was a wealth of satisfaction in that single word. “I thought you might see something you liked.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far…”

“Come on, Kasey. I sent that catalog to only a very few select members. You were one of them for a reason.”

“Are you trying to tell me I need to settle down?” The very idea made him restless, sending him to the great plate glass window that filled one end of his apartment. He did love to stare out, watching the night pass out in the city.

“Not if you’ve no desire to. However, I know that you like your donors hot, willing, and easily healed. Deacon is definitely worth your while.”

Something in Jonny’s tone piqued his interest, just like a really good lead in to a new case would get his juices flowing. “Have you had him?”

“Only at his initial test. This one is special, Kasey.”

“Hmm.” He scratched at the window with one finger, watching the little smears his touch created. “Why not keep him for yourself, then?”

“Because he’s not mine to keep. Oh, I would play with him, no doubt. But keeping him would be wrong. We’re not suited.”

“Matchmaker, matchmaker,” Kasey sang. “Make me a match.”

“Sometimes it really is obvious that you were queer even before you died. Will I see you at the auction?”

The decision came to him without any thought at all, and Kasey sighed. “Yes. Yes, I will see you there, Jonny.”

“Excellent. Friday at sundown. Don’t be late, Kasey. The bidding on this one will be intense.”

“I’m sure it will amuse me to no end to watch.” As if he would bid on a full-time werewolf.

He was having a few issues with impulse control, but he wasn’t stupid.

Buy it here at TQ.

Here at ARE

And here on Amazon

Monday, February 16, 2015

Manic Monday

Had a rough day today for no real reason except that it's been like sandpaper today. Every little thing rubbed me raw.

Those days ramp me up. By the end of the day I'm exhausted and sore, as if my grumpiness manifests itself physically.

I am now on the couch with dogs and wife, which is making things so much better.

So much better.