Ellora's Cave

This is just to state my case. I’m not asking anyone to do anything or to help me, just so people are aware of where I stand in this.

As some of you know I was involved in a similar case years ago. Triskelion went bankrupt and took around 70 authors with it. Ellora’s Cave authors number in the hundreds. This is much bigger, and could potentially be nastier. If management turns the situation around, then I will be the first to applaud them, but I cannot agree with some of the methods they are employing to do that.

I joined Ellora’s Cave in 2007 and for most years since earned good money and was treated well by them. I enjoyed my time there because I was never asked to be “one of the family,” they paid on time, the cover art was lovely, and the editing was rigorous, but excellent.

This year my royalties plummeted so alarmingly that I had to make some serious decisions about working with the publisher. Also, the quality of the cover art is way down, since they fired the artistic directors earlier in the year. The prices of the books are way above the prices any of my other publishers charge. (In my opinion, the nature of erotic romance has changed drastically since the publication of “50 Shades of Grey” took pseudo-BDSM mainstream, and the books once considered erotic are now better marketed as “hot” or “steamy").

Now things have changed and I’ve been forced to ask for my rights back. I have 19 published books with EC. Two unpublished manuscripts are in the editing queue and have been for over twelve months. I’ve had a response on the two unpublished ones. A form response on the others.

No, I can’t have my rights back on those two. If I don’t cooperate with the editing, Ellora’s Cave will exercise its contractual right to edit and publish the books anyway. If those books do come out, I will make a statement to say I had nothing to do with the editing and the books are released without my cooperation. After that, it’s up to the reader to decide.

By “editing,” they mean “light editing.” The editors are not even allowed to alter spelling mistakes, because that would be changing the “author’s voice.” So a worse-than-spellcheck scenario. That is not what I have come to expect from Ellora’s Cave, and not what was in the spirit or the intent of my contract. I cannot in all conscience agree with the new policy.

For security reasons, Ellora’s Cave has always kept its financial records, including royalties and author payments, on a separate, non-networked computer, which is restricted to a very few members of staff. Last year they announced a new system, but since they still say they're unable to wire our royalties direct to our banks, I'm not sure what has changed. Except that it led to a lot of delays in payments. 

Some people have already noticed that I have taken my Ellora’s Cave titles down from my website and blog. That is pending their decision about reversion and my queries about royalty concerns.

Sadly, I’ve taken the decision not to send them any future work until the current situation is resolved. If you do buy one of my Ellora’s Cave books, I’m unlikely to see the royalties from it. But if you love my writing, I’m only grateful you want to read my books and I truly hope you enjoy it.

Once I regain those titles, I’ll be selling them elsewhere or re-editing and self-publishing them. 

I’m proud of what I did at Ellora’s Cave and the editors I worked with, Briana, Jillian and Justin, and the cover artists, Syneca and Will. 

They have all gone now, and so have I. 

New Release - Red Alert

Red Alert - the first in a new series of paranormal romantica.

When a dragon flies over Central Park, he jolts the world into awareness. Shape-shifters and vampires finally reveal their existence, and people show their fangs, wings and claws to their neighbors. But exposure doesn’t deter old enemies.
Megan meets Sandro at the lowest time of her life – when she thinks her crazy nightmares are symptoms of the tumor that is killing her. But the sexy dragon shape-shifter tells her the dreams are telepathic messages from his missing brother Ricardo. More than telepathy flares between them. Megan and Sandro burn up the night with sizzling passion, but Sandro won’t commit, and Megan wants more than a fling.
When Sandro rescues Megan from Ricardo’s captors she gives him the key to locate his brother, but he wants far more from the sexy archivist. He wants her body, all ways, all day, all night.
But this is his last case for the STORM agency and he knows he can’t promise Megan any kind of forever.

(Cover art by Seneca)



Excerpt:

A blast of bright light made Megan open her eyes.

The dragon soared up toward the higher buildings before straightening out his flight. Then it grew larger, just as it said it would. She found herself sitting between the great wings of a beast that until a few months ago was supposed to be only a legend. Well here it was. A real live dragon.

It was maybe ten feet from head to tail, covered in blue-green scales, dry and warm, not slimy as she’d imagined when she’d seen one on the TV. Its broad back gave her good purchase, if she lowered her body so she lay on her bag, the remnants of his jacket and the manila envelope holding her scan results. Wind whipped past them and she spread her hands over the thick neck, clutching the folds of skin she found there. “Holy shit!”

Hold on tight. We’re not going far.

“Yeah.”

And by the way, dragon or man, I’m always masculine. Never an “it”. Amusement rather than irritation colored his inner voice. Dark, smoky, sexy. And yes, very masculine.

That’s better.

Can you tell everything I’m thinking?

No. Only your outer thoughts. I could go deeper but it would hurt you. We try not to pry.

My, you are civilized.

You have no idea, was his bitingly sarcastic reply.

This was a hell of a way to find out she wasn’t afraid of heights.

They were higher now. He kept to about thirtieth-floor level, as far as she could guess. He headed for the heart of Manhattan. The oasis of Central Park sprawled below them, the lush green punctuated by sharp flashes as people took photos. Despite her fatigue, a sense of elation rose in her, purely from the flight. “We’ll be on the news. Will they be able to make out my face?”

Try to speak telepathically. I can hear you better like that when we’re airborne. No they won’t make out your face, my body should obscure it. I’ll just make sure.

A warm, soft feeling enveloped them, enclosing her in an unseen envelope, like atmospheric pressure around a plane. “What did you do?”

Fuzzed. Put a mental shield around us, so people see what they expect to see, not what’s really here. How do you think we kept ourselves secret for so long?

New York looked different from the air but it was still the city Megan had fallen in love with the minute she stepped off the shuttle bus from the airport. Today was a cold, fresh spring day with a crisp blue sky, one of the best.

Where are you taking me?

To a parking garage. Then home.

My home?

Mine.

He descended so smoothly she hardly noticed until the flat, car-strewn rooftop loomed up under his great clawed feet. He extended them and landed as gently as an experienced pilot. Smoother.

She stayed on his back. The roof appeared to waver, and only then did vertigo hit. Closing her eyes, Megan willed her stomach to behave until she felt the movement cease.

You can get off me now.

Megan opened her eyes and found the ground a mere three feet away. After grabbing the jacket, bag and folder, she extended her legs down one side of the scaly body and slid down to the blessedly solid ground. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, sheer relief pouring through her.

“You did well.”

The deep, masculine voice sounded just like the one in her head. And a little like the one that cried out to her in her dreams. Shivering a little, she opened her eyes and confronted a tall, strong man. A tall, strong, completely nude man with a ripped body.

Although she tried really hard not to look down for, oh, perhaps a whole second, she couldn’t resist any longer than that. Her gaze traveled down the broad chest, liberally sprinkled with curly black hair, the join-the-dots line from navel down to—oh yes.

Long, strong and semi-erect. Semi-erect? Startled, she jerked her attention up to his face, blinking.

He gave her a devastatingly wicked smile and took the two steps that separated them. “I can’t lie to you when I’m naked, can I?”

“What, the violence turns you on? Or is it the transformation?” she managed, weak but still fighting. She badly wanted to go to him and just be held, be told it was all right, this was all a dream. But it wasn’t.

“No, it was the lush brunette who’s just spent the last twenty minutes snuggled against my back.” He smiled wryly, a warm, genuine smile, so very different from the ones Dr. Jones had flashed at her a short time before. “I felt your body against my back, the way your breasts pressed against me and your crotch pushed me. That’ll do it every time.”

“You don’t even know my name. It’s Megan. Megan Armstrong.”

“Well, Megan Armstrong, let me claim my reward for rescuing you.”

Before she could step back, his arms went around her, pressing her close, and his mouth settled on hers.

Oh but he tasted delicious. Of warmth and strength and pure, rampant male. She relaxed and let him support her weight. She hadn’t allowed herself any weaknesses for years but at the end of her rope, it felt so good to be held. This man took what he wanted and what he wanted, she gave.

Red Alert from Ellora's Cave
Dragons save the World!
Order Page: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-7065-red-alert.aspx
ISBN: 9781419920639