I told my editor that I'd written 60,000 words (I did give myself leeway... the
wordcount is
actually 79,000) and that I would have a complete draft to her by the end of
this month.

Right now, a week has passed, and I have not added any new scenes. I did turn a
dream by
the heroine into thoughts while taking a shower... I strongly felt that after a
couple of weeks
in Hypersleep, she would need to use the plumbing before she fought a duel with
the hero.

I'd want to. Wouldn't you?

Royal bathroom opportunities are necessary in romance, but have to be fitted in
when the
opportunity presents itself. In the first draft, she didn't get to go, and as I
proof-read the
scene, I red-pencilled in the margin that I had an issue.

So... back I pop to work over the fight.

Best wishes,

Rowena

I can't believe it, but it is Oct 14th already. For anyone who listens
to internet voices radio, I'm on tonight, 9 - 11 talking with werewolf
romance authors Cathy Clamp, Liddy Midnight, Joy Nash, and Sephera Giron.

Best wishes
Rowena

http://internetvoicesradio.com/Rowena.htm

On Barbara Vey's "Beyond Her Book" blog on Publishers weekly is a
short review of Insufficient Mating Material.

http://www.publishersweekly.com/blog/880000288.html

Barbara Vey is a strong friend of Romance, and I think she would love
to see more traffic to her blog, if anyone has anything to say.

I'm trying to finish KNIGHT'S FORK today so I can enjoy turkey,
football, board games with my family tomorrow.

I apologize for my long non-blogging silence.

Have a wonderful THANKSGIVING.


Best wishes
Rowena Cherry

One of the first pleasures I looked forward to upon finally getting
the draft of Knight's Fork into the mail to my editor was to check my
Newsletter Admin area, which I have neglected even more than I have
neglected this group.

To my shock, horror and chagrin, I've discovered comments from readers
dating back to 2004 which I never saw.

Eeek. If you are one of the correspondents, or if you know someone (so
many addresses have now changed) please accept or pass on my apologies.

The "Comments" section was intended for my use, I thought. Recently,
spammers have been posting mysterious and probably objectionable code,
but it is automatically stripped.

I used it to make a note of which review site contest entrants had
checked the Please-sign-me-up box when they entered one of my contests.

By the way, if anyone is a member of Novelspot@yahoogroups.com,
starting December 1st there is a scavenger hunt and at least 25
authors are giving away prizes. I'm giving away a print ARC of Mating Net.

No one but spammers ever posts to this list. You all can, you know. I
just need to approve it to be sure that you aren't offended if some
stranger pops in and offers you snake oil.... trouser snake oil!

Ever received that sort of spam?

What is the funniest spam subject line you ever received?

Best wishes,

Rowena Cherry

Novelspot.net is hosting a multi-author, multi-genre Holiday Scavenger
Hunt on this discussion list. The Hunt starts on December 1st and goes
until midnight on December 31st. Participants get to search for a
special graphic on certain author and publisher websites throughout the
month, then send in their entries -- the URLs of all the pages they
found containing the special graphic to

  Bianca AT Novelspot.net

That would be  Bianca@...

Bianca @ Novelspot.net (without the spaces)

> Winners will be picked from among the completed entries and prizes
awarded from each participating author or publisher. It's great fun and
the odds of winning something for yourself this holiday season are good!

Best wishes,
Rowena

http://www.rowenacherry.com/downloads/FFP_Authors_Sampler.pdf

I'd like to think of something witty and clever to say about all the
accidents and misfortunes I've enjoyed recently... but my brand new
dishwasher just flooded the kitchen with suds, and my family wants
dinner. Luckily, I have paper plates and plastic forks.

However, the good news is, if you like sci-fi or fantasy romance but
were always wary of trying someone new, here's a free download of 10
different first chapters.

If yahoo strips the url, you can find the pdf on my website.

Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry

However, I do have to admit that I've neglected my correspondents and
my correspondence. I haven't sent my Xmas cards yet, either!

I am very sorry.

Now, I've got just over a month to do edits of KNIGHT'S FORK, so I'm
not much better off. Today, I have to clear a space (of somewhat
amusing junk mail) on the living room floor so my family has somewhere
to put the Christmas tree.

I wish you all a very happy holiday season, and the good health to
enjoy it.

Best wishes
  Rowena

I think everyone does troll for votes on the New Covey Trailer awards,
and that's what I'm doing.

You only get one vote in each category (There are two...Most Relevant,
Most Intriguing), but if you don't like another
trailer better, I'd really appreciate some votes for

INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL (it's seventh down)

<a href="http://thenewcoveyawards.blogspot.com">Vote</a>

http://thenewcoveyawards.blogspot.com

Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry

Thank you all for being here. I appreciate your presence very much,
though I haven't been showing up as often as I should in recent months.

Are you ready for the festive season? If not, I hope you find some
superb last-minute bargains!

Frankly, I've never been so behind with the festivities in my life. I
haven't even got my cards out to my friends! As the post arrives, I do
feel a twinge of guilt.

However, I do have the frozen turkey parts defrosting in the fridge,
and the gifts from me to myself that I never opened from last
Christmas have been re-wrapped (are being re-wrapped as I write this
note) so I will at least have a surprise before I open them.

Don't feel sorry for me. My husband bought me oven gloves last year,
and they were a complete surprise, partly because they didn't fit.
LOL. The local lending library came through with one of the first
copies of Pirates of the Caribben at Worlds End, which I can watch
until Dec 30th (and my child is watching it now, so she will be able
to warn me if any cool or ghouly bits are imminent.)

My editor sent me a laundry list (she wants underwear with holes in
it!) of changes for Knight's Fork, but the good news is that she loves
most of it, I've got the coolest cover (though I shall not get to see
it until after Christmas, and I'll share it with you all first, as
soon as I get it), and the revisions are going to be fun... but a bit
of intensive work. We're really going to try to do a better job of
making Knight's Fork stand alone without resorting to front matter and
back matter, which nobody reads.

So... that's my news.

I mentioned previously that Insufficient Mating Material in in the
newcoveytrailerawards this month
(http://thenewcoverytrailerawards.blogspot.com) and thank you very
much to everyone who used their vote on my trailer.

I've mentioned the FF&P authors first chapter sampler that I put
together as a service to readers.

http://www.rowenacherry.com/downloads/FFP_Authors_Sampler.pdf

There will be a second set of samples out maybe in time for the new
year, with a wider variety of my author friends.

Have a lovely holiday season!

Rowena

On Christmas Eve, I will draw one name from the list of members. The
prize will be his or her choice of either a $25 Borders gift token or
autographed copies of Forced Mate and Insufficient Mating Material....
providing the email address works, of course.

If anyone wishes to contact me, this group is a two-way group. You can
post. Or you can send me a private note if you sign up for my
occasional newsletter at http://www.rowenacherry.com/signmeup.php

Happy holidays (again)!

Rowena

Happy Holidays, Rowena!

Pam

Happy New Year.

For those kind people who like to help out friends in polls with the
occasional vote, I'd like to draw your attention to the LASRs.

Insufficient Mating Material has been nominated as "Best Romance of
2007" in the long print category. So has Maureen Fisher's Jaguar
Legacy.  Here's the link, and the list of other friends who have been
nommed. Please note that you cannot return to the site to vote a
second time. I'm not sure how many votes you can cast on your first
visit... so please know who's there before you go!

The URL to the polling site is
http://www.longandshortreviews.com/poll.htm

Best Long Print Romance of 2007 Which of these books do you consider
the best print romance book of the year?

	 1080 Kiss by Angela Steed
	 A Miracle Through Time by Patti Shenberger
	 Almost Taken by Isabel Mere
	 Atlantis Awakening by Alyssa Day
	 Atlantis Rising by Alyssa Day
	 Cast in Stone by Kerry A. Jones
	 Dance With Deception by Tracy Goodwin
	 Digging Holes in Paradise by Karen Mihaljevich
	 Faery Special Romances by Jacquie Rogers
	 High Noon by Nora Roberts
	 In Her Bed by Deborah MacGillivray
	 Insufficient Mating Material by Rowena Cherry
	 Jaguar Legacy by Maureen Fisher
	 Lord of the Deep by Dawn Thompson
	 Ravenwood: Night's Salvation by Laurie Sorenson
	 Riding the Thunder by Deborah MacGillivray
	 Romeo vs. Juliet by Laura Hogg
	 The Daddy Spell by Patti Ann Colt
	 The Marsh Hawk by Dawn MacTavish
	 Thin Ice by Liana Laverentz
	 Touch of Texas by Tracy Garrett
	 Waiting for the Rain by M. Jean Pike

Rowena Cherry
Chess-inspired ("mating") titles. Gods from outer space. Sexy SFR.
Poking fun, (pun intended). Shameless word-play.

Insufficient Mating Material
Second Place winner, Fall N.O.R. Awards

CAPA Award nominee
LASR Award nominee

Happy New Year.

I may be celebrating the Chinese one, this year. Everything else is on
hold! I didn't even send out cards this year (though I bought them!)

Can you believe that the first week of the new year is almost over?
I've been pretty busy with editor-requested revisions, which are
rather more urgent than most other things I could be doing.

Five chapters have been improved... a lot more to be done!

However... I'm supposed to post an excerpt on The Romance Studio on
Monday because INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL is one of the CAPA awards
nominees in the Fantasy category.

I'd love some opinions on which excerpt might influence voters. If you
have the time and inclination, please let me know. If you don't,
please disregard the Excerpts in the next two or three posts from me!

LOL

Thank you very much to those who voted for me in the LASR awards and
in the PredPoll. I'm honored and grateful to have been nominated!

Best wishes
Rowena Cherry


LASR Award nominee
http://www.longandshortreviews.com/poll.htm

PREDPOLL

SF/Fantasy
http://www.critters.org/predpoll/novelsf.shtml

Romance Novel
http://www.critters.org/predpoll/novelr.shtml

Author page
http://www.critters.org/predpoll/author.shtml


CAPA Award nominee

http://www.theromancestudio.com/capa.php

After failing to mate at their public "Mating" ceremony (equivalent of
a royal shotgun wedding) Prince Djetth (Jeth) and Princess "Marsh" are
shot down and marooned on an alien planet's desert island, like
animals put together in a zoo breeding program.

"Marsh's" brother, Prince Tarrant-Arragon believes that Marsh may have
gotten herself pregnant out of wedlock during a fling with a traitor
(now officially dead, in fact, the traitor has had plastic surgery and
is Djetth). If she is pregnant, she needs a husband. Djetth needs a
political liability wife like a hole in the head.

Princess "Marsh" is the ultimate, pampered, airheaded fashionista, and
cannot even undress by herself. Djetth is a bit of a "survivorman".
What they don't know, yet, is that someone wants them dead.
------

Freighter Island
The next morning


"I propose a sexual experiment," Djetth announced without warning,
shortly after she joined him by the fire and sat down to watch him
prepare their breakfast.

“You slept well, I take it?”  Martia-Djulia retorted. He’d been busy,
and he’d more than kept his word.  The latrine now had a seat with a
hole so neatly cut that she couldn’t imagine how he’d done it without
a laser.  There had also been a shallow giant half-shell full of sea
water for a wash basin.

Water was bubbling on the fire in two large, white, many-spiked
shells.  Two similar shells had been set off to the side to cool.
Martia-Djulia reached forward, took the nearest one by one of its
spikes, and sipped hot, tangy water from the shell’s pink, contoured
lip.  She was thirsty.

Judging by the wet, sharpened sticks and the bright-eyed, iridescent
corpses on a broad, deep green leaf, Djetth had been up early,
spearing fish in the rising tide while she overslept.

Martia-Djulia shifted her position and one-handedly combed back her
hair with her fingers.  Djetth looked different �" rougher, dirtier,
and sexier.  A dark shadow on his jaw softened the harshness of his
odd-shaped beard.  He’d knotted a folded square of parachute fabric
around his head, possibly to protect his bald scalp from sunstroke.

Although he must have been aware of her puzzled scrutiny, he didn’t
look up from what he was doing.  He had a fish draped across the palm
of one hand and was carefully inserting a very sharp knife into a
small hole in its lower abdomen.

Martia-Djulia did not suppose for a heartbeat that his proposed
experiment had anything to do with fish.

"This experiment would involve having sex, I assume?" she replied
sarcastically.

If another conversation about sex was inevitable, she was grateful
that he’d chosen to do it in broad daylight and on the far side of the
fire.

“Don't you want to know whether you are ever again going to be capable
of enjoying one of life’s greatest physical pleasures?"

“Speak for yourself,” she sneered, watching as his knife hand moved
rhythmically, slicing open the fish. “Life’s greatest pleasure, indeed!”

“Shall I rephrase?  Are We maintaining a polite fiction that you have
never enjoyed sex, sweetheart?” There was a disquietingly odd note in
his voice that suggested he knew otherwise.  Not for the first time,
Martia-Djulia wondered whether her untrustworthy brother had told
Djetth about her interlude with Commander Jason.  Or worse.  What if
Tarrant-Arragon had kept a copy of the recording?

She spread her arms in a Look-Around-You gesture that ended in a shrug.

“What?” Djetth said, tossing down the now-gutted fish into a
water-filled half shell.

“Sand. Insects.  We’re salty. We can’t wash. We wipe ourselves with
grass and sea weed.  We clean our teeth with sticks.  You have a
beard.  Sex is impossible.”

“Details.”  He brought his flask to his lips, and threw back his head.
  His throat moved as he drank.  For a dismayed moment, she thought he
might be drinking irresponsibly.  Then she remembered that she’d
filled that flask with rainwater during the night.

“Details are important to me,” she said with regal finality. The
distasteful conversation was over.

“Here are some details, then,” he retorted, undeterred.  “I’ll take
you firmly by the hand, and lead you over the soft, shifting,
midday-hot sand to where I have positioned one of our rescued seats
from the plane in the shade.”

Why wait for midday? she would have liked to jeer, but didn’t dare.

“Maybe we’ll run, laughing like eager, horny teenagers in our
excitement.  Maybe you’ll be hesitant and I’ll take both your hands in
mine and pull you, stumbling and shying back, like an untamed mare.
When I’ve got you under the gold-tented, sparkling shade….”

“Why would we be under gold-tented shade?” she asked, her curiosity
getting the better of her.

“To protect us from birds,” he said cryptically as he reached for his
next victim.

“Birds?”

“Incontinent birds flying overhead.”

“Oh!”

He was silent, concentrating on the task in hand, as the tip of his
knife penetrated a fishy body opening.  Martia-Djulia couldn’t help
wondering if Djetth watched what he was doing with such intensity
whenever he eased his positor into a new lover for the first time.
Just then, he looked up and grinned at her.

“Where was I?  In my love shack, with you cornered between me and the
tightly upholstered seat back? I’ll turn you around, so I am behind
you with my legs astride yours. Placing one hand under your belly, and
the other squarely between your shoulder blades, I’ll bend you over
the back of that seat. Your hips and belly will be snugly cradled by
the contoured headrest.  Your bare bottom will tremble against my hard
groin.”

“Will you be dressed?”

He ignored her.

“I’ll hold you down with one hand, and pin you firmly in place with my
hips, as I reach over with my other hand and fondle your breasts until
they are swollen and heavy, and you beg me to grab them with both
hands and fuck you hard.”

Martia-Djulia hoped that Djetth couldn’t see the heat she felt in her
cheeks.  She raised the conch to her lips, cradling it in both hands
with the fierce spikes sticking out between her trembling fingers.

“All this time, and I’ll take so much time that your senses will spin,
you’ll brace your splayed hands in front of you on the resilient
cushion, all the better to bounce on, and �"incidentally- to push back
when you want to urge me to thrust deeper, or faster into you.”

“You think so?” she muttered defiantly, determined that if this
“experiment” were ever acted out, she would pass out before she did as
he expected.

“Or, maybe I’ll stroke you slowly from the curve of your waist down
the back of your smooth thighs to the delicate dimples behind your
knees.  I’ll massage your luscious bare bottom for hours if I feel
like it, until you relax and part your trembling legs.

“Then, I’ll thrust my thigh between yours.  I’ll reach down with my
long fingers, and play with your pussy for as long as I like, and when
you’re wet and moaning from that, I’ll slide three fingers in….”

She had to interrupt.  He was going too far.

“What exactly is this supposed to prove?”

“That I’m a considerate lover?” he suggested with a question in his
tone.  “That I can do you very nicely without breathing on you, or
roughing you up with my stubble, or ramming sand into you.  What else
were you worried about?”

"Are you suggesting that we have sex simply to see if you enjoy it?"
she asked, frowning at the tremor she heard in her voice.  She’d have
to keep her remarks short, or he would notice that she was not
unaffected by his lewd conversation. “Everyone knows that males don't
need to be in love."

“Do females?" he retorted, and again she wondered what he knew.  By
now, he had removed the next fish’s internal organs.

Martia-Djulia swallowed, knowing that she had made a terrible mistake
in mentioning love.  No one was talking about love.

Smiling at her, Djetth held up the fish and explicitly pushed his
three middle fingers into the cavity.

“A fish’s insides flutter like a female having a small, long lasting
orgasm.  Would you like to come over here and put your fingers in it,
to feel what you’ll feel like to me?”

Martia-Djulia shook her head and stayed where she was.   “Maybe,
sweetheart, we should have sex to prove to you that you can and will
enjoy it.”

“I enjoyed it once. I am very happy with my memories.  I don’t need
you or your experiment to prove anything,” she said stiffly.

“Once?”  He raised an eyebrow.  His lips twitched.  Too late
Martia-Djulia realized that she had just contradicted one of her
earlier statements.

“The Aim of the Experiment, is to discover whether or not we are
sexually compatible,” Djetth said loftily.  She suspected that he was
amusing himself by parodying a formal checklist.  “Method: to have
mind-blowing recreational sex using positions and techniques that
mitigate or avoid unfortunate consequences.  Expected Result…”

“What unfortunate consequences?”

“Insects in your hair?” he teased.  “Sand in your baby box. A baby.
Infection. Injury. Legal consummation of a Mating we might not want.”
His gaze flickered.  Martia-Djulia had the impression that his list
was deliberately ordered.

“Injury to whom?” she asked, ignoring the glossed-over “baby”.

“I’ve wondered why you haven’t blasted me backwards onto my butt since
our Mating Day.  I’ve certainly deserved it.”

“Yes, you have!” she agreed heatedly.

She trusted Djetth far enough to have a conversation such as they were
having, but not far enough to admit that she’d no idea how she had
blasted him that time.  Or that she didn’t feel strongly enough about
him to try again.

“Yeeees,” he drawled, sounding unsettlingly like Tarrant-Arragon.  “I
know I have.”

She can’t do it!  It came to her in a flash what he was thinking.
Either she can’t do it, or she really likes me!

“I wonder whether I could make a condom out of fish skin?” he mused
aloud, with a laugh in his voice. “Inside out, of course. It wouldn’t
be gentlemanly to give her the scales.  Then, the tail would have to
be on the inside.  Maybe not.  Animal guts now�"”

A few days ago, she might have squealed in exaggerated disgust.  Now?
  Djetth was too interesting.  Besides, he wasn’t going to ignore her
and leave her alone even if he were convinced that she was as
frivolous as a nectar-sipping, gaudy-winged insect.

Apart from the fluttering body cavities of gutted fish �"not a serious
rival for his affections�" she was the only action available to him.

“Conclusion?” he murmured.

Her mouth went dry at the notion that he might have been reading her
mind, although that ought to be impossible.

“Conclusion: to be determined.  If we’re good in bed, it might be
enough.  Or it might not be,” he continued.  “We can’t face the truth,
until we know what the truth is.”


Insufficient Mating Material
by Rowena Cherry

CAPA Award nominee
http://www.theromancestudio.com/capa.php

LASR award nominee
http://www.longandshortreviews.com/poll.htm


PREDPOLL

SF/Fantasy
http://www.critters.org/predpoll/novelsf.shtml

Romance Novel
http://www.critters.org/predpoll/novelr.shtml

Author page
http://www.critters.org/predpoll/author.shtml

Chapter One

Tigron Empire of the Djinn
Ark Imperial, Operating Theater


Damn them! Prince Djetthro-Jason eyed the masked males and the
unpleasant array of implements they were preparing to use on him.

I haven’t told them every damn thing, and I’m not about to. No way am
I going to invite anyone to take a laser to my privates. Ahhh, Fewmet!

The "battlefield analgesia" was wearing off. During the duel, which
he'd begun as Commander Jason and ended--defeated--as Prince
Djetthro-Jason, he'd felt almost no pain despite the damage that
Prince Tarrant-Arragon had inflicted.

Now, his massively bruised thigh throbbed heavily, his neck muscles
ached, and his jaw... it hurt even to think about his jaw. Perhaps
worse--but less so by the moment--was the damage to his alpha-male
machismo as he lay strapped down, stark naked in the Ark Imperial's
operating theater, preparing his mind for surgery without anesthetic.
Also for "the fate worse than death" which was to come.

If Tarrant-Arragon had observed Great Djinn tradition, the duel they'd
fought less than an hour ago ought to have been to the death.

Why hadn't Tarrant-Arragon killed me then and there? To the victor
went the Empire, the Ark Imperial, and gods-Right to any female he
wanted… and we both want the same female.

Damn it!  Even if he wanted to stop, I should've fought on after he'd
crippled my leg and shattered my bloody jaw. Why didn't I? What's left
for me?

What indeed?

I'll be the Great Djinn equivalent of a broken thoroughbred stallion
put out to stud. It's fairly obvious why Tarrant-Arragon made an
excuse not to finish me off.

The Great Djinn are nearly extinct. In twenty years' time,
Tarrant-Arragon's and Djinni-vera's children will need true-Djinn
mates, all entitled to the silent D- prefix to their royal Djinn
names. That's why!

When the "fate worse than death" had been spelled out, it had been
sheer bravado to mumble that I want to marry Princess Martia-Djulia.
Maybe I do. Maybe I don't.

It hurt how much he still wanted Djinni-vera, who'd been the last
Djinn virgin in all the Communicating Worlds--and beyond--and
betrothed to be his, until Tarrant-Arragon abducted her by force and
took her virginity.

What consolation would it be to have Tarrant-Arragon's sexy,
fashionista bitch of a sister in his power and in his bed?

Djetth winced at the savagery of his thoughts about Martia-Djulia.
Shards of pain shot along his broken jawline.

Hell's Teeth! If he and Martia-Djulia were going to make a go of it,
she'd have to have a shorter name. Maybe Marsh. Or Jewel...

"Well, Djetthro-Jason, are you ready to be carved up for your new
identity and your new life as my little sister's glorified love slave?"

From somewhere out of Djetth's line of sight, Tarrant-Arragon taunted
him, stressing the part of Djetth's real name that he'd used until his
cover as "Commander Jason" was blown and he was overpowered and arrested.

Djetth did not turn his head. The pain in his face and head was
intolerable enough without moving.

"Ahhh, I do believe that Our Imperial surgeons are ready to take out
that distinctive jagged scar on your cheek," Tarrant-Arragon crooned.
"And screw up your jaw."

What else might they do while he was under the laser and the knife?
While his face was open, might they carve out a sensory gland or two?
Implant a tracking device? Use his broken jaw as an excuse to weld a
mask over his head?

Prince Djetthro-Jason would be a latter day "Man In The Iron Mask" if
they realized how closely he resembled Crown Prince Tarrant-Arragon.
Which he would, without his scars, his colorful contact lenses and his
long, blond-dyed hair.

Djetth glanced at the treacherous, turncoat 'Rhett, who'd been his
bloody useless "second" at the duel, and who was still hanging around.
What for? Damn him. 'Rhett was way too much the intergalactic
statesman for his own--or anyone else's--good.

If the patient lost consciousness, Tarrant-Arragon could decide that
the chances for galactic peace would be better if Djetthro-Jason were
neutered... one way or another. Given the secrets 'Rhett knew, 'Rhett
might agree.

"No--" Djetth groaned with the unexpected agony of trying to speak. He
wanted to refuse anesthetic again. How he wished there was somebody
present whom he could trust!

A door swished open.

"Does he have to be in such pain?" The cause of all the trouble spoke
from the doorway. She sounded on edge, as if she felt his pain
telepathically.

Djinni-vera! No longer his Djinni. By conquest, by the irrevocable
exchange of vows, and finally by her own choice, she was
Tarrant-Arragon's.

By All the Lechers of Antiquity, how he loved her! At that moment. For
coming. Mentally Djetth qualified his thoughts. Djinni-vera might not
love him now, but she was honorable to the core. Tarrant-Arragon
wouldn't dare do anything dastardly in front of her.

As she glided to his surgical table, Djetth looked at her wildly,
helplessly, with mute appeal, hoping that she would read his mind and
help him this one last time.

Djinni-vera's amethyst eyes widened as if she had Heard him and
understood. Her gaze averted, she reached out and dropped a gauzy
white cloth of some sort over his monstrously inappropriate erection.

To others, her action might have looked like public modesty on her
part. Djetth assumed that Djinni had read the part of his mind that
was worrying about his striking tattoo that only showed up in the dark
or when suitably excited.

Thank you! he thought. Please help me. Stay.

She nodded, and took his fettered hand with her undamaged left.

"You’ve been macho about this too long, J-J. Why won’t you let them
put you to sleep?"

"Careful, my love," Tarrant-Arragon said, moving possessively to her
side. "You can never call him J-J again. Nor any one of his damned
traitor's aliases. Not J-J, not Commander Jason. Traitors cannot be
seen to survive their attempts on my life. Commander Jason is
officially dead, and everyone--including Martia-Djulia--must believe
it. From this day forward, he's Prince Djetthro-Jason."


"What a mouthful..." Djinni began, then her changing expression told
him that she must have read a thought-pun he couldn't resist. "Djetth!"

She frowned sternly.

"I know you Great Djinn males can't help thinking of sex all the time.
But, it's not helpful. As long as you have your saturniid gland,
you're dangerous."

Not dangerous to you, kid. You won't ovulate while you're pregnant,
and probably not for a while after that, he thought back at her.

Her mouth twisted in a wry smile.

"You'd be safer if you let them remove it."

Some aspects of Royal Djinn maleness one would rather die than
surrender, he rejoined, hoping she would not read his darker thoughts.

"Martia-Djulia would be better off if you couldn't have the rut-rage
again, too...." As she spoke, Djinni tossed her head as if shaking off
a bothersome fly.

Djetth wondered if Djinni had unexpectedly Channeled someone else's
reasoning. Djinni couldn't possibly know how savagely Martia-Djulia
liked to be served in bed.

"I saw Palace footage of you having the rut-rage with Martia-Djulia."
The little mind-reader's voice rose in protest at the thought he
hadn't meant her to sense.

You saw? You saw what, exactly? His thought question was a ploy to
distract her from the rut-rage, but no sooner had he asked than he
dreaded how detailed her reply might be.

"What you might expect, given that the camera was behind a mirrored
ceiling, and you were on top," she retorted, keeping his tattoo a
secret. "Tarrant-Arragon fast-forwarded you, because you went at it so
long."


"Not that long," Tarrant-Arragon murmured maliciously, probably to
remind them that he was listening to Djinni's half of the conversation.

"Long enough," Djinni said. "Djetth, you might already be a father."

"Granted, that is remotely possible," Tarrant-Arragon sneered while
appearing to examine a wicked looking lancet. "Let's hope you weren't
that thorough, Djetthro-Jason, or your firstborn would have to be--and
remain--a bastard. Unfortunately, my slack-wit of a sister can't keep
a secret. If Martia-Djulia thinks Commander Jason got her pregnant,
the rumor will be all over Court before we get home, and before she
hears that her lover is dead."

Djetth felt an inexplicable distress at the idea that he could never
claim this theoretically possible child as his own.

"Shall we begin?" Tarrant-Arragon's too perceptive eyes ranged over
Djetth's body, lingering for an instant on the cloth covering his
penis. Not for the first time in his life, Djetth thanked the Great
Originator that Tarrant-Arragon had lost the power to read minds.

"I am staying with him," Djinni announced, gripping his hand tightly.
Djetth was careful not to wrap his fingers around hers or to respond
to Djinni's comforting touch in any discernable way. Touching the Heir
Apparent's Mate was yet another act of Treason punishable by death.

"Very well, my love. You may stay as long as you keep your gaze on his
face." Tarrant-Arragon's lips curled into a sneer. He had certainly
noticed the hand-holding.

"Djetthro-Jason, I’ll ask you for the last time: Have you declared
every identifying mark on your body that my sister might recognize?
Every scar...?"


"Yes!" Djetth snarled back, one eye on Djinni to see whether her face
betrayed his lie.

Head turned, distracted by Djinni and the explosion of pain in his
face from speaking aloud, Djetth forgot that his neck was exposed
where 'Rhett could reach it.

He felt a cold, numbing touch of 'Rhett's fingers on his most vital
acu-pressure point, strove to turn his head, and couldn't.

'Rhett is using Djinncraft to put me to sleep! Damn 'Rhett and his
secret agendas!

The growing paralysis had not yet reached Djetth's eyes. As his vision
dimmed, his desperate gaze met the cool green, inscrutable eyes of his
bastard cousin and half-brother, 'Rhett.

He'd be lucky to wake up with a new face, a new and dangerous
identity. If he woke up.

Ark Imperial, Recovery Room

Djetth was aware of a threat.

He could hear a gruff voice like the rumbling of distant thunder.
Sounds were muffled, like falling snow. There was cottony stuff over
his ears.

His eyes wouldn’t open, but he knew someone was in his room.
Drifting in and out of consciousness made him all too vulnerable, damn
it. Even when he was half awake, he couldn’t force his limbs to move.
The pain was tolerable. It was no worse than a hangover all over. That
was the drugs. Fewmet, he was as helpless as a baby.

He heard a closer sound, a sharp indrawn breath. Slack-damn, he
couldn’t see, couldn’t turn his head.

Oh, shit, there were two of them.

“Prince Djarrhett! Didn’t see you, Sir. Sorry to disturb you.”

Neck bones clicked. The surprised one must have turned his head.

“You may call me ’Rhett. I’ve no plans to use my rank to save a
World�"or a life�"without bloodshed tonight.”

So ’Rhett was there. Double talking bastard! So, he had no plans to
not shed blood? Whose blood was he planning to shed tonight? What was
he up to? Fratricide, perhaps?

Someone with human body odor was too damned close to his bloody bed.
And the insensitive bastard was bending closer.

“Those aren’t nail clippers on a cord around his neck, are they, Sir?”

Grievous! Only Tarrant-Arragon’s right hand man went around calling
Princes and title-stealing impostors Sir. What was Grievous up to?

“They’re wire cutters, Grievous. I imagine there is a limit to how
advanced medicine can be. Djetth’s broken jaw is not only braced by
the half mask, but wired shut. If he had to vomit, the wires would
have to be cut immediately, or he’d die.”

Bloody hellfire!

“That’s bad, Sir.”

Too damned right.

“Giving Djetth the means to get himself chunk-blowing drunk could also
be fatal.”

Good of you to say so, ’Rhett. That’s exactly the sort of thing I want
my enemies and future in-laws to know. Perhaps you’d like to point out
that an involuntary mouthful or two of wine could choke me while I’m
in this helpless state? Grievous might not have thought of that.
Slackness damn you, ’Rhett!

“He’ll have what you’d call a ‘glass jaw’ for quite a while,”
’Rhett
continued unconcernedly. “The rigid half mask will give him some
protection for the next month or so. Nevertheless, he’ll have to swear
off fistfights, and give up getting wall-banging drunk. He can’t
afford to get his jaw broken again.”

“So, you’re saying he has a drinking problem, Sir? I dare say he’s not
happy with his life.”

No shit, Grievous!

“I guess not,” ’Rhett agreed.

Psycho-bloody-analyze me, do! Djetth’s brain flick-flacked
unpleasantly. If he’d been drunk but not incapable, at this point he’d
chug down two long glasses of the nearest alien equivalent of orange
juice to counter the imminent mind-somersaults.

How the Carnality had the topic turned to boozing, any…? Djetth felt
his brain take a dive. Wheeee!

No way to stop himself from cartwheeling back into unconsciousness. No
wayyyyyy….

~ * ~

“What were you planning to do with whatever you’ve got behind your
back, Grievous?” ’Rhett asked in a deceptively sweet,
Tarrant-Arragonian tone of voice.

He twirled his nasty little knife through his long, flexible fingers,
as though it were a ballpoint pen-sized baton.

“I thought I’d crack open a bottle.” Grievous held up a swan’s neck
shaped bottle as if it were a large silver passport at a corrupt
checkpoint.

Still seated, ’Rhett held out his hand for the bottle. He’d decided
that Grievous would drink whatever was in it, but there was no
advantage in being uncivilized.

“Gotcha, Sir.” Grievous left the foot of Djetth’s bed and handed over
the bottle. “I dare say that might not have been such a good idea, if
he doesn’t hold his drink well.”

’Rhett inclined his head, and deftly sliced the top off Grievous’s
bottle with his very sharp surgical knife, releasing a pungent
fragrance that reminded him of sweet fennel seed and heavy duty
antifreeze.

“I remember the time you came to visit me with a bottle of wine,
Grievous. You hoped to loosen my tongue, as I recall. You’d arrested
me, thinking I was Djinni’s troublemaking fiancé.”

They exchanged conspiratorial smiles.

“And you, Sir, were willing to be tortured or put to death in his
place rather than let on that you weren’t him.” Grievous jerked his
head, indicating the sleeping Djetth. “I never figured out what
possessed you to be so noble.”

’Rhett never revealed information without a very good reason to do so.
He thought he had one. Djetth could use a sympathizer in his enemy’s
camp, and the Englishman had potential, if only because of the English
fondness for underdogs, dark horses, and noble men.

“He is my big brother.” Having lobbed an informational bombshell,
Rhett ducked for cover, and reached for a stack of paper receptacles.
“Did you think to bring Djetth a flexible drinking straw, Grievous?
No? Then, we’ll drink it. Pull out a pallet.”

’Rhett nodded to one of the pull-out drawers, and swiveled his own
segmented chair to face away from Djetth’s bed.

“His brother, Sir?”

Near silence descended apart from the thick glug of wine as ’Rhett
unhurriedly poured the first slug into one of the paper bowls left for
the patient’s use.

Without rising from his seat, he passed the first bowl of acid green
liquid to Grievous, who took it and sat down.

“Your Great Djinn relationships confuse me,” Grievous grumbled. “Not
so many days ago, you told us you’re Princess Djinni-vera’s brother�"”

“I apologize if I misspoke, Grievous. To be strictly accurate, Djetth
and I are half-brothers. He and I had the same mother. We are also
cousins because Djetth’s father and mine were half-brothers.”

’Rhett poured a bowl for himself before continuing. “Djinni-vera and I
had the same father but different mothers, so Djinni is my
half-sister. Her mother, as I think you know, was an Englishwoman.”

In referring to his and Djinni’s sire, ’Rhett used the past tense
misleadingly. If Djinni hadn’t told anyone that their rogue Djinn
father was alive, let alone that their sire was the male behind the
Dragon headmask worn by Tarrant-Arragon’s greatest enemy, then he
wasn’t about to do so.

“Your very good health, Grievous.” ’Rhett set the bottle down at his
feet, then raised his paper bowl to his lips and tilted it. The
opacity of the paper and the shape of the bowl made it impossible for
Grievous to tell whether or not he’d drunk any.

Grievous took the first sip, then another. Almost immediately, the
man’s personal, nervous aroma mellowed.

“Incestuous lot, you Great Djinn,” he remarked, glaring suspiciously
over his bent shoulder at Djetth. “So, he was all fired up to marry
his half-brother’s half-sister.”

“Oh, absolutely,” ’Rhett agreed cordially in a very uppercrust English
drawl, as he swirled his wine in its full paper bowl.

“My dear fellow, you must bear a couple of facts in mind. We Djinn are
almost extinct. Great Djinn males are highly sexed. Moreover, our
exiled ancestors were granted conditional sanctuary on Earth. The
condition was that we don’t interbreed with Earthwomen.”

“I see. That explains the little miss’s mother.” Grievous’s sarcasm
was heavy.

It was also entirely justified.

“Your own Anglo-American taboos are relatively recent, Grievous. Think
of the Egyptian pharaohs. They practised sister-marriage, even though
they weren’t on the edge of extinction.”

’Rhett bent from the waist and set his full bowl on the floor at his
feet beside the silver bottle.

“My half-Earthling, half-sister was the last virgin of the Imperial
blood line. Virginity is more important to Royalty than it is to
commoners. It was inevitable that Djetth, being the oldest, would
claim her… in the sense of an early, formal, legally binding
betrothal. He was betrothed to her since she was eighteen months old.”

’Rhett threw out carefully chosen information like shark bait. He was
fishing… for a friend for Djetth.

From Grievous’s body language, ‘Rhett could tell that the man was
reluctantly drawn in by a side of Djetth’s story he hadn’t heard before.

“Djetth was honorably waiting for Djinni to reach legal Mating age�"not
always synonymous with marriageable age�"when Tarrant-Arragon sneaked
through the exclusion zone around Earth and bagged her before her
birthday. Can you imagine how Djetth must have felt to lose her and
everything that went with her, after waiting nearly sixteen years for
her?”

“Well, when you put it like that�"” Grievous stood, as if agitated.
“Sixteen years. That’s quite a time.”

Still standing, Grievous brought the paper bowl to his mouth and
tossed back the wine as if it were a shot of vodka.

“I lost my wife to another man,” he said gruffly, glaring into his
emptied wine bowl. “I half killed the bastard when I found out. Ruined
my military career. Well, he was my commanding officer. In prison, it
helped to have a ‘hard’ handle. That’s when I began to call myself
Grievous, after my crime. See, I did the bastard Grievous Bodily Harm.”

“Have another,” ’Rhett said gently. He took up the bottle by its long
neck and reached over to refill Grievous’s empty bowl. “Sit back down.”

In thoughtful silence, they each stared at Djetth, whose regular
breathing was interspersed with dreaming grunts of discomfort.

“It’s all over, then?” Grievous turned a statement of the obvious into
a question.

“Is it?”

’Rhett had doubts of his own.

Surgery was over. The patient had survived. As for the rivalry between
Prince Tarrant-Arragon and Prince Djetthro-Jason, that might be far
from over.

“He won’t thank you.” Grievous glanced again at the unconscious Djetth.

“No,” ’Rhett agreed wryly. “He’s not one for gracious speeches, even
if he could speak. Did you have any specific reason in mind?”

“Castration for a kick-off. Poor bastard.”

Grievous had not been in the Operating Theater. Being human, he
apparently didn’t understand the difference between the sensory
neutering of a Great Djinn and the crude removal of bollocks.

’Rhett rested his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers.

“You didn’t think Tarrant-Arragon means to Mate his lonely
younger sister to a physical eunuch, did you, Grievous? That would be
a dirty trick.”

“Then, what the dickens…?”

“Let me explain about the rut-rage, and Djinn male anatomy. The truly
dangerous organ is not the penis or the testicles. It is a little
moth-shaped gland in the sinus area.”

’Rhett stroked the sides of his nose with his index fingers to
indicate where his would be, if he still had it.

“A fully functioning Great Djinn male can smell an ovulating Djinn
female from the equivalent of fifty Earth miles away, if the wind is
in the right direction.”

’Rhett smiled at Grievous’s expression.

“Legend has it that a male falls irrevocably and permanently in love
at first scent with the first ovulating female he smells.”

“Before he sees her?”

“Exactly. Sight unseen. It is a fatal flaw in our Djinn evolution.
Another is that Great Djinn alpha-males do not share Mates. They don’t
accept substitutes. They fight to the death to have and hold the first
one they smell.”

“Hold on, though. Crown Prince Tarrant-Arragon and Prince
Djetthro-Jason didn’t smell the same girl,” Grievous interjected.
The human caught on fast, too fast.

“Confusing, isn’t it?” ’Rhett agreed.

Dear friends,

I sometimes forget to post a heartfelt and humble thank-you note,
but I am sure that Insufficient Mating Material would not have been
nominated in the first place if not for the kindness of some of you,
and I don't know who... but I do sincerely appreciate it.


The 2008 FANTASM Awards Finalists have been announced, and
INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL is one of the three FUTURISTIC finalists

Fantasm Awards - http://fantasmawards.blogspot.com/

I am also immensely grateful for the

LASR Award nomination for Best Long Print Book
http://www.longandshortreviews.com/poll.htm

And for the
CAPA Award nomination for Best Fantasy/SFR
http://www.theromancestudio.com/capa.php


Not to mention numerous nominations in the PredPoll at critters.org.

Thank you all very much indeed!


Rowena Cherry

Good morning!

I received an email heads-up today. I thought of telling you first, in
case anyone might like to try and win it.

------
Just wanted to let you know we are spotlighting FORCED MATE in today's
Book of the Day Spotlight using the autographed copy you sent me
earlier as a prize, in case you wanted to let your readers know.


Have a great one!
DeNita



www.AuthorIsland.com
Where readers find new treasures every day!
**Authors, sign up today and reach new readers tomorrow**

The AuthorIsland.com Newsletter
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/authorisland
-------

Best wishes,

Rowena Cherry

Single Titles--Strong Romantic elements
http://singletitles.com/?page_id=246

CAPA Award nominee
http://www.theromancestudio.com/capa.php

LASR Award nominee
http://www.longandshortreviews.com/poll.htm

Fantasm Award Finalist
http://fantasmawards.blogspot.com/

http://www.rowenacherry.com/downloads/FFP_Authors_Sampler.pdf

Nina Bangs
Susan Grant
Kathleen Nance
Colby Hodge
Deborah Macgillivray
Joy Nash
Robin Popp
Catherine Spangler
Jade Lee
Rowena Cherry

Single Titles--
Best Book with Strong Romantic elements
http://singletitles.com/?page_id=246


CAPA Award nominee--
Fantasy Romance
http://www.theromancestudio.com/capa.php


LASR Award nominee
Best Long Print Romance
http://www.longandshortreviews.com/poll.htm


Fantasm Award Finalist--
Best Futuristic Romance
http://fantasmawards.blogspot.com/

I am sorry for the last two entirely incomprehensible emails.

They are the answers to a couple of quizzes I am posing on the
authorisland chat today (Wednesday) and I forgot that I'd be sending
them to my friends if I posted them here.

All sorts of prizes being given away today!

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/authorisland

Best wishes,
Rowena

from authors island I found you here...dont really understand your
contest, but I love to know what your doing!
Tina

http://theromancestudio.blogspot.com.

All you have to do is visit the Valentines Day blog chat there, and comment. Not
a lot of
people are commenting... your chances are very good indeed, and lots of other
authors are
giving away books and goodness-knows-what.

Love,
Rowena

I sent my manuscript of KNIGHTS FORK off to my editor yesterday. This
was revisions, and I've been working on it flat out (as flat out as I
can be given "life") since December.

You'd think I could have written a book in that time!

Alicia (my editor) thought that it would be best if I removed a
character entirely, and also a plot thread. The superfluous character
wasn't in every chapter, but someone else had to be given his "deeds,
doings and sayings".

So, it was pretty major.

Ah... she also loved my heroine's pet tigers, and wanted a lot more
scenes with tigers in.

Having done all that, and more, I now have to find 8,000 adverbs and
adjectives that I can live without because the tigers put me over the
word count.

I hope that you are all well... that you had a splendid time on all
the high days and holidays that I missed.  I am now off to Florida for
a couple of weeks.

All the best,
Rowena

The last St Patrick's Day I remember was when I was in San Antonio for
the EPIC convention, and the town painted the river green.

I've been threading my way up and down America (Detroit to Florida)
crossing 10 states counting the two routes we took, by car, to avoid
the various types of storms. I've been on the road for the last three
weeks, but I've had to be practically no-mail since before Christmas.

KNIGHT'S FORK is in its final throes. I expect to hear from my editor
on Tuesday about the eleventh hour revisions that are still needed.
Other authors (Susan Grant, Deborah Macgillivray for two) have
mentioned how hard the third book can be to write, which is very
comforting in a share-the-pain sort of way.

'Rhett was Mr Reticent when it came to sex. Could you stand it if his
story was sweet?

:-)

Best wishes,
Rowena

Do you belong to FaceBook.com?

If you do, there's a chat application (still typing) which means that
I could chat to my friends any time I liked.

www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=671077032

That's my FaceBook profile url, and it works... although there is no
guarantee that it works from yahoo mail!

For those who find someone's struggles to lose weight amusing, I've
started a weightlossbloggers group on yahoo. I write a couple of lines
as long as my enthusiasm lasts, and my progress is stable or positive.

Everyone is welcome as long as they are kind. I'll have to go back and
check the settings to be sure other people can post. Posting is
allowed here, too. I just don't approve messages from spammers.

If you love books, maybe you'd like to know about the following
networking sites:

GoodReads.com
Shelfari.com

Best wishes,
Rowena

http://anotherealm.com/prededitors/pease.gif

Thursday was a wild one. I began the morning expecting good things
which did not happen, and responded to a surprise email from Dave at
preditors and editors asking me to contact him.

Early in the evening, I received a notification that <a
href="http://anotherealm.com/prededitors/pubaw.htm">Preditors and
Editors</a> had awarded <a href="http://www.rowenacherry.com">my
site</a> the Author's Site Of Excellence Award.

Needless to say, I am thrilled!

Just so you know, none of the groups that I moderate is showing up.
I'm down from seven pages of groups to four.

If you think I'm awol, I'm not, but this is weird tonight.

Best wishes
Rowena

Wow! It's Friday, although it may not be when you receive this!

I've just snagged this url off another loop because yesterday a lot of
us were going to bat against yet another site where people are
"sharing" e-books, and books that were never intended to be e-books.

I'm personally all in favor of literacy, but in my opinion, if someone
can't afford a book but wants to read, they should volunteer to help
out on any of the dozens of reviewing websites.

Here's a petition to get the government to take the book industry as
seriously as they take the music and film industries. If you'd like to
sign, great. If not, no worries, but it would be lovely if the url
could be passed on to other groups of booklovers.

One thing to know... the petition site asks for a small donation. I've
no idea if your vote does not count if you decline to donate. The
smallest donation is $2.

Have a lovely weekend.

http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/ebooksandpirates/

Best wishes,
Rowena