Classy N' Sassy Promotions

Behind The Mask by Jacqueline Paige

2010-12-19T11:47:00.000-08:00

GENRE:

Paranormal Romance

BLURB:

In a fit of temper, Gracelyn's only sister curses her so she's forgotten the moment anyone turns away from her. Only one thing, at an exact moment, can break the curse, but after years of failed attempts, she is forced to accept living her life completely alone. Her world is calm and predictable until one Halloween night...one costume party...and one masquerading man changes everything.

EXCERPT:

He wasn't a detective for crying out lout! He studied the map again and looked up out the windshield. It had been three days, or partial ones, and nothing so far. The spell words he'd sent out in the air had led him in the same direction time and time again, but then, it would just fade, leaving him on the side of the road. He cursed and tossed the map into the passenger's seat. He needed food, coffee, and some sleep. He reached over and searched through the pile of newspapers on the seat, all from small rural towns he had been through, all not pointing him in any direction that would yield information. He sighed and looked out the window. Across the street was an old graveyard, not one of those with new polished headstones and pretty flower holders. This one had old gothic tombstones and a sense of history, and he was sure that if he'd gotten out and checked, magic. He glanced slowly from the graveyard back to the pile of papers. Obituaries had been the one place he hadn't thought of looking. It was a long shot, but he was out of ideas otherwise. Picking up the first one, he quickly flipped to the back. No deaths recently in this community. He checked the four papers, and only one had any notices listed.

PURCHASE

In Our Dream by Jacqueline Paige

2010-12-19T09:06:00.000-08:00

GENRE: Paranormal Romance

BLURB:

She's a small town cop. He's an inmate undercover. They meet in a dream.
Jennah Best left the adrenaline packed life of being a cop on the edge for a more peaceful place. She escaped a marriage that almost destroyed her and now lives her life working for a small police station in the town of Ridge. At her age, she's accepted that it's too late and too much work to start all over again, until she meets a man in a dream...
While young, Dominic Palmer has always proven he can get the job done. Or at least, that was the case before he accepted a job and agreed to go undercover as an inmate. When months go by and there's no word from his outside contact he wonders if he's been left on the inside for good. He's fighting to stay alive and keep his sanity, but finds himself completely distracted by a mysterious woman he met in a dream...

EXCERPT:

She closed her eyes when his arm sliopped slowly around her and his lips burned a sensual trail up to her jaw. Her brain knew it was a dream, but her body didn't care. She could feel the heat from him and feel his breath against her skin, scorching her. She wanted to feel his mouth on hers, wanted to see if it felt real.
He stiffened and lifted his head. She opened her eyes and stared into his dark ones"I have to go," he whispered, and she could see from his expression he really didn't want to.
"Oh."
"I'll make it up to you, I swear." he kissed her lips quickly. "Close your eyes and go back to your bed, Jennah."
She opened her eyes and then bolted upright. She was in her room. Turning, she glowered at the clock. It was only four in the morning. Her heart was still trembling out a loud beat from his touch. She touched her throat and could swear it felt as real as the mouth in her dreams had.
Letting out a breath, she smiled and moved back onto her pillow. So it was only a dream. Did it really matter? It's not like she was with one man and dreaming of another. Nope, no man had been in her bed in a long time. He could have stayed a bit longer, though, she thought with a smirk. "Happy dreams for me," she whispered and closed her eyes again.

PURCHASE

Mystic Perceptions by Jacqueline Paige

2010-12-19T07:50:00.000-08:00

GENRE: Paranormal Romance

BLURB:

Does she risk everything again?

Jacinda Brown keeps to her safe existence doing investigative research avoiding people and places with people. To most, it appears she has a normal life; blending completely undetected in her lonely continuation. She doesn't investigate people; she can't get that close. Through her hand she can feel emotions, thoughts. With a touch she can see what has been. Unfortunately fate tosses her into a situation where her carefully guarded secret and her own conscience are at war when she finds herself working with detectives to find a killer. Jacinda clashes with the very strong grounded detective, Reid Merritt, destiny has forced her to work with. At some point he begins to matter, making her decision harder. Will he look at her with abhorrence, like she's some sort of freak when she's through? What will be the price, this time, for the the ability she doesn't want?

EXCERPT:

Brent just sat there and looked at her. Reid stifled a sigh. They were pulling his leg, right? This was a joke of some kind. When she continued to stand there, without so much as a smirk, he frowned over at his partner. Reid shook his head in disbelief. "It can't be paper or clothing," Jac said quietly. Brent reached into his shirt, pulling out his chain and pendant. Lifting it over his head, he handed it to the crazy woman standing there, patiently holding her hand out at him. Reid gave her a 'you've got to be kidding' look when she stepped in front of hinm. When she continued to stand there, looking at him impatiently, he leaned back and pulled his keys out of his pocket. Working the pendant off the ring, he handed it to her and leaned back again. He knew his blood pressure was going to spike shortly if they didn't stop screwing around, then he was going to start yelling. Sandy sat down behind Jac. "Ready?" "Yeah." Jac held up her hand, palm up. When the doctor lowered Brent's chain into it, Jac closed her hand around it and she took a few deep breaths as if she was trying to find some focus. Reid knew Brent was waiting for them to say "Gotcha!" too. When he heard Jac laugh softly, he figured it was now. Jac shook her head. "Really, Sandy--next time please specify something they weren't wearing during sex." She grinned. "Cute blond, though Brent; love the lady bug tattoo."

PURCHASE

Salvation by Jacqueline Paige

2010-12-19T05:55:00.000-08:00

GENRE: Paranormal Romance

BLURB:

Two centuries of not existing is about to change...

Lost in a place between living and dying, confined to roam endlessly over the same grounds for all eternity and cursed to never be seen again, Jareth wanders through time alone and longing for the sea once more. When he realizes there is one thing he yearns for more than he ever did the sea he is tossed into a world he is unfamiliar with.

Stuck in a life that never goes her way, Miranda is determined to get at least one thing she wants. When that one thing turns out to be a sexy pirate that lived over two hundred years ago, she finds herself faced with more than one challenge to have him.

Can they break the curse and be together?

EXCERPT:

He walked with a heavy foot, wishing his boot were real enough to pound on the floor. He was on the other side of the room before he looked back at her. "I have gone on alone and completely adrift for so many years at a time...the loneliness consumed me, leaving me wanting to howl as a wounded beast does." He waved a hand in frustration. "Now, after all I have suffered through, I find I am able to be heard when I speak, to be seen by other eyes, and I have to fight every breath with the way I burn for you." He walked in large strides closer to her. "I take notice of your every movement, your every breath, and I cannot even touch you one time!" Miranda stood there, her eyes huge and locked to his. "I'm...I...I feel the same way, Jareth." She motioned to the monitor. "I'm trying, really I am." He hissed out a breath. "I did not imply otherwise." He looked down into her brown eyes and wished again he had the strength to turn from them. He could tell untruths to himself for the reasons he was here with her, but he could not tell them to her. "I am sorry, little one. I am not of much assistance when I spend all my moments with you looking and ..." He sighed. "And?" She whispered. His eyes searched hers. "Longing, wanting, craving..." He looked down to her body before moving back to her eyes. "The clothes you wear show me how you are shaped beneath, and yet I am still disturbed to absolute distraction with the images inside of my own head that your appealing shape gives to me." She tilted her head and looked up at him, her cheeks flushed and eyes soft. "Would you like to see more?" "Yes," he hissed as his mind screamed no. How could he put himself through the torment of seeing what he desired more than life, and yet not touch , not taste?

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Praline Dreams by Reana Malori

2010-11-20T19:37:00.000-08:00

Genre: Praline Dreams

Blurb:

Reese Michaels and Dana St. John had been friends since grade school but allowed teenage angst and raging hormones to pull them apart. After years of denying his feelings, Reese has decided that he is no longer willing to wait. He knows that it's time to make Dana to realize that she is the only woman for him. His plan of seduction reconnects two people who have filled each other’s dreams. Will one night be enough or will Reese and Dana discover that your first love is the one you never truly forget?

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Black Licorice Forever by Nevea Lane

2010-11-20T19:17:00.000-08:00

Genre: IR Erotic Romance

Blurb:

Vanessa Delray knew her herbs. She knew what to do with them, how to work them and how to get the best out of them. So when a tall dark brooding yet handsome man walks into her herbary, she knew he wanted something particular. He certainly wasn’t like her usual patrons who thought they were witches and warlocks. So what could he possibly need?

Gabriel Salvi wasn’t a witch or warlock: just immortal. Cursed because of his father’s transgressions, Gabriel was forced to live a life without love or anyone to call his own. His last hope of breaking the curse was an ancient aphrodisiac using the pungent licorice root. Living in a secluded cabin, Gabriel stumbled across Del Ray’s Herbal Haven and it’s owner, Vanessa Delray.

Gabriel wanted the licorice root to finally find his love. Little does he know, Vanessa may be the only little bit of black licorice that he needs.

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Lyrical Magic by Shara Azod & RaeLynn Blue

2010-10-30T20:50:00.000-07:00

Genre: IR Erotic Romance

Blurb:

Four thousand years ago Daffyd suffered a tragedy he was sure he would never get over. The Bard of his people was convinced he would never sing again. Closing himself in his castle he resolved to never love again. The price was just too high...

But then came Shiri. What was it about the woman, this mere mortal, that could lure Daffyd out of his self-imposed exile? Why does she call him more than any other? Even more than the wife he lost. Why did she weave a spell so magical it made his heart sing? He had no choice but to use everything in his power to bring her to him.

Shiri was much more than a mortal, more than Daffyd could ever imagine. With powers all her own, she set him free and released the magic in the lyrics of his song.

Excerpt:

“Come here.”

No smooth words of seduction, no small talk, just straight and to the point. Sure, why didn’t she just jump on his lap and…

The booming sound of his laughter cut off the thought with razor sharpness. It snatched her harshly back to the reality of the car and not the budding fantasy which had flashed across her mind.

“Yes, why do you not do it?”

“What?” Oh, no she hadn’t spoken the words out loud had she? Surely she couldn’t have been that far gone!

“You were projecting. I did not hear your thoughts, I just caught a snatch of the vision you projected. I must say, I didn’t find it objectionable.”

Shiri stared at him as if he had grown two heads. Projection? Images? What the hell was he talking about? If Travis had set her up to interview another wacko she would kill him!

“Look, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but if you even think about going all crazy on me I swear, I will be on the next thing smoking out of here, taking one of your balls with me!”

“Are you telling me you were not just thinking of climbing into my lap and having your wicked way with me? Or that you did not dream of your fingers exploring that delectable smelling pussy of yours underneath the full moon as I watched?”

“How could you…You couldn’t know that!”

It was just a harsh whisper, spoken more to convince herself she wasn’t hearing what she thought she had.

“Come here, Shiri.”

“No.” She shrank back against the seat as if she could hide there.

There would be no hiding. He would not allow it.

“Do not make me ask you twice.”

Something in his voice was urging her to do as he told her to. She could have resisted had she wanted to, yet she crept slowly toward him as if compelled by an irresistible force. She didn’t want to fight it. When she would have sat beside him, he pulled her into his lap.

“Do you think I would hurt you?” Daffyd lightly traced the shape of her lips with his finger. She shivered, though she was a long way from being cold, not anymore.

“No.” And she didn’t. She was safe here with him, at least her body was.

“Give me your lips, Shiri.”

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Peaches and Cream by Serenity King

2010-10-29T05:36:00.000-07:00

GENRE: MULTICULTURAL EROTIC ROMANCE

BLURB:

Playboy executive, Mark Baldwin loves beautiful women and wild parties. Not worrying about the future, beautiful women come and go in his life. That's the way he preferred it...that is until he realized that the one woman he wants, Samira Morgan, friend and business associate, may not want him. Samira's still recovering from the death of her adoptive parents; Samira doesn't appear to be remotely interested in a relationship with Mark. Not letting a little thing like rejection stop him, Mark decides to turn up the heat and get his woman. He wonders if his past indiscretions come back to haunt him?

2010-10-25T20:26:00.000-07:00

Genre: Multicultural Erotic Romance

Blurb:

Nadia loved everything about sushi, the flavor, the scent, and the taste. What she loved more than sushi was owner of her favorite restaurant, Zen Su Chow. She'd lost track of whether her visits to his restaurant were about his food or him, but one thing was for certain, for Nadia, it was love at first taste.

Zen Su Chow had been born and raised in Japan. His immigration to the United States at 18 allowed him to work for his success and bring his family with him. The American dream was his for the taking, when he meets Nadia. With a short time, Zen can't see his future or his dream without her in it, despite how much it distresses his family.

Sushi is just plain without the other ingredients to flavor it, to bring it alive. Zen knows he's just been existing. Now he has to convince Nadia she's just the wasabi heat he needs in his life.

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Pineapple Crush by Janet Eckford

2010-10-02T11:56:00.000-07:00

GENRE: Multicultural Erotic Romance

BLURB:

Nia and Peter both had a crush on each other. They spend their days watching and their nights dreaming what they would do when the watching is over. When they get their chance to make those dreams a reality will they keep moving forward or crush the possibility of a future?

PURCHASE

Habanero Cocoa by Shara Azod

2010-09-25T18:35:00.000-07:00

Genre: Multicultural Erotic Romance

Blurb:

Layla's something akin to a human volcano. Slow to erupt, but once she did, you had best watch out. Javier very much enjoyed watching her destroy any and all that dared get into the petite attorney's way. Hell, he just enjoyed watching her. He couldn't, however, allow her to jump over the cosmetic counter in the middle of a busy department store. And once he had her in his arms, there was no way in hell he was allowing the the little chocolate covered habeñero erupt over anyone else- ever.

Excerpt:

Layla Theresa Smith-Everheart was about five point four seconds from jumping over the damn counter and punching the cosmetic twit dead in her face. It was just the principle of the matter. She’d been standing here waiting patiently as the persnickety woman behind the counter helped every freaking body else but her. She didn’t have to imagine what the woman’s problem was. She wasn't dressed her best, but that was on purpose. Layla was in sweats because they were easy to take on and off and she’d gone to the spa, got her nails done, now the hair dresser was the only place left to go – all for some grand soiree tonight for work. Beauty took time and effort, so she’d wanted to be comfortable damn it. That didn’t mean she couldn’t afford the overpriced cosmetics behind that damn counter. She still had to go home and shower before her hair appointment damn it, she had no time for this.

Her infamous temper may have made her one hell of an attorney, but unfortunately it also got her in a crap load of trouble from time to time. When her blood started to boil her baser instincts tended to take control of her otherwise brilliant brain. Her hands had already begun to curl into ready-made claws, her feet rocked until she was ever-so-slightly bouncing on the soles of her feet. Her muscles tensed as she readied herself to spring. If that woman ignored her one-more-‘gin…

“Oh, no you don’t.”

Her first reaction would’ve been to spin on the man who had wrapped his steely arms firmly around her waist, thereby preventing her from reaping the retribution on the snooty stick figure that was still pretending like she wasn't standing there waiting to be helped. She would have, if she didn’t immediately recognize the voice. There was only one man in the world who could take her from murder-death-kill mode to strip ’em-jump ‘em-fuck ‘em mode in less than a heartbeat. Not that she’d ever done it with this particular man, but oh, how she dreamed of it!

Layla had no idea what Javier Nuñez was doing in Saks, but right this second she couldn’t bring herself to care much. All that mattered at the moment was the sinewy arm wrapped around her, the slightly accented baritone voice in her ear, the hard body pressed against her back, the thick erection –

Whoa! Erection? From Javier? She’d known the man for approximately five years, lusted after him for every second of those days, hours and minutes since she first started at Nuñez & Sons, Attorneys at Law, and not once had he ever given her any indication he thought of her as anything more than a colleague and friend. She wished it was otherwise. She had wanted to scratch out the eyes of every damn woman that ever looked in his direction. She of course hadn’t acted on it because she had no desire to become a crazed mass murderer. Every woman looked at Javier. The man was walking sin on a stick. Standing nearly six-four, he towered over every other man that worked at the mid-sized firm, including his father and two brothers. He wasn’t the most massive man she’d ever seen, but his trim, strapping physique couldn’t be hidden by the tailored suits he wore in the office. She’d seen him a couple of times in a bathing suit at company retreats. Lord, but the man was built for pleasure.

The Nuñez family was originally from Argentina, every one of them freakishly good looking with bluish-gray eyes, long sooty lashes, and thick inky-black curly hair. How many times had she reached out to bury her fingers in the thick mass only to catch herself at the last moment? She had it bad, but there was no way in hell she’d let it show. There were signs a man threw off when he wanted a woman, and Layla had never seen any such indication from Javier. She wasn’t the type of woman to delude herself or throw herself at a man, so she’d never even tried to catch his eye.

Yet, there was that erection pressing against her backside. Had he been hiding his attraction, just as she had? Did he look at her the same way she looked at him when no one was looking? Or maybe that erection wasn’t for her at all. The scrawny chick behind the counter was passably pretty, she supposed. Man, if he had a hard on for that kind of woman there was no chance in hell for a petite yet curvaceous dark skinned sister like herself. Now she really hated the make-up bitch.

“Hello, Javier.” It was difficult to keep her voice even. “Fancy meeting you here.”

As much as she wanted to grind back on the impressive thickness, she held steady. She loved her job, made damn good money. Throwing herself at a senior partner just after she had made partner herself would not be a good idea. Not to mention he as the son of the founder and leader of their fearless group. Life really was unfair sometimes.

“As much as I would have appreciated the view, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to jump behind the counter.” He purred right into her ear, making her pussy all wet and hungry. “My specialty is contract law, not criminal defense. There’s only one way I would prefer to get you off.”

Okay, there was nothing ambiguous about that. Sure she and Javier had partaken in some light hearted flirting, but nothing that explicit. That sounded positively delicious. Plus, it could possibly mean that very impressive organ pushing ever so slightly against her backside was all for her. Maybe.

“You should never dangle a sweet tasty treat in front of a woman with a sweet tooth.” Her let her voice drop, letting a hint of all her pent up lust peek through. Just to push the issue, she allowed the generous globes of her ass to slide ever so slightly against his hard length.

The arm around her waist tightened, dragging even harder against his front. The hand that had been gripping her side slowly made its way to rest against her stomach, underneath her sweat shirt.

“You should never tempt a man who is already far too tempted,” Javier retorted, biting her earlobe for emphasis. The sharp little bite sent shivers racing down her spine. If he only knew how close she was to having her wicked way with him.

“Can I help you? “

Oh sure, now the perky little witch wanted to come over and offer her assistance. And of course, her eyes were locked on the sexy man behind her. Layla grit her teeth, pissed at the interruption just when things were getting interesting.

“Go on, mina, tell the nice sales clerk what you want.”

Damn, what had she come here for again?

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Game Night by Zade Ryar

2010-08-27T16:32:00.000-07:00

From the series: Journal of a Man in Love. Journal entry #3: Game Night (with a special letter from Allie)

Genre: IR Erotic Romance

Blurb:

The Journal of a Man in Love are short stories that chronicles the private thoughts and actions of a man completely, totally and utterly in love with his woman. Written completely from a male point of view, take a peek inside what's in a man's heart and mind.

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An Open Melody: An O.A. Story by RaeLynn Blue

2010-08-22T21:22:00.000-07:00

Publisher: Mocha Memoirs Press, LLC
Genre: Paranormal I/R Erotic Romance
Series: Otherworld Attendants-O.A.
Other titles in this series: An Open Lure
Purchase link: http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/an-open-melody-an-oa-story/12189202

Blurb:

Mardi Gras in New Orleans is full of fun, sex, and adventure, but trumpet player Tiffany Ladden's good time and trust left her homeless and stranded in the city's legendary French Quarter. Betrayed, abandoned, and weary, she plays on the street corner for tips, tunes more lively than her spirit.
Ryan Coswell's father had been an Otherworld Attendant. Ryan had been one also, but having attended the needs of an incubus, Ryan never expected to become one himself. But he has, and his ravenous hunger is difficult to contain.
He comes to New Orleans to feed and to continue his quest to find the one—the one woman whose energy, spirit, and desire can sustain him. When he hears a stirring melody, he can't stop himself from following it. Seduced by the trumpet's notes, Ryan is undone by the woman playing them.
Now all he had to do was convince her to stay with him forever. Should be easy for an incubus.

Excerpt:

"Tell me, what is that tune you're playing," a rippling voice sliced through the current throng of folks. It shot right through to Tiffany Ladden's chest and made her breath catch. Like a caged fire it burned, demanding release—one she couldn't give at the moment.

A huge man parted the small herd of people like a sea as he walked directly to her. Head and shoulders taller than anyone else on the street, the stranger pinned her to the spot. Thick muscles rippled beneath his scarlet cable sweater as he stood, arrow straight in his pressed dress slacks. His black shoes fell silently on the pavement and his movements reminded her of a leopard stalking a herd of gazelles. He didn't have the glassy-eyed stare of those drunken men looking to party and feel up equally, if not more drunk, women. No, this man commanded her complete and utter attention.

Fresh blonde hair hand been pulled into a ponytail that lay low at the base of his thick neck. A square jaw rife with dark blonde stumble caught her eye and she wondered how those whiskers would feel scraping gently across the hardened tips of her breasts. Lips so succulent they should be illegal parted in a smile. The sweater revealed the soft nearly white hair that she knew covered the rest of his chest. Muscular and tall, his hazel eyes sparkled beneath the streetlights. He smelled like something woody and earthy, but at the same time, primal.
Throat dry as the Sahara, she couldn't even drool at the hunk.

"Excuse me?" she managed to croak and held her trumpet over her heart to keep it from escaping her turtleneck.

The surrounding women sighed in unison and stumbled into each other, walking onto each other's heels. Men spilled their drinks and grunted like dogs in heat at the very same women they had finished hollering at a mere five minutes before. The air shifted around the man, but she couldn't look away from him, something about him stirred her inner core and made her clit swell in longing.

He stopped a few feet from her and said, "What's that marvelous tune you're playing?"

Silence rang out at his words, or so it seemed to her. She hadn't heard anything, but him.

"I, I, it's something I made up," she whispered and her throat worked to swallow, but nothing came. He smelled divine, like amber and woods, fresh cut oak and that other thing she couldn't quite place. "It doesn't have a title or anything."

Inside, she cringed at how utterly silly she sounded. The way her body reacted, she was shocked she could've kept her control. Hell, she was damn proud she spoke words at all and not just kissed his mouth and humped his leg.

He released a sarcastic half laugh, like he heard her thoughts.

"Sometimes words aren't needed," he said, and the flash of heat and longing shot out at her. So tangible she could reach out and make love to it, his intention smoldered. His hunger coated her and it sparked a fear inside her. She stumbled back, but bumped against the wall of Jojo's. Her clit beat harder and the moisture saturating her panties forced her to speak.
"I don't know who you are, or, or what you're doin', but I, I am outta here," she warned. Swiftly she bent down and snatched up the money from her baseball cap and put her trumpet into its case with trembling hands.

The group of suddenly horny people had vanished. She'd seen more than her fair share of horror movies and this one took the cake. Where the hell did everyone go to? She tightened her grip on the trumpet's case and slide sideways to the left of the doorway into Jojo's.

"Wait!" he said, and reached for her. Nostrils flaring, he seemed to act like he inhaled her. "Please!"

She shrieked back and took another step. Nutty came fairly often in New Orleans, but this ranked among the ridiculous.

Her breath caught in her chest and stayed there. Coupled with her hardened nipples tightened to diamond points, her throbbing love button pressed to the on position, and soaked panties, Tiffany didn't know which way was up, but she knew one thing for sure, she couldn't stand out here on the streets with this fine ass man begging her to talk to him. Men like him didn't talk to her at all, so her suspicion grew.

Despite her internal logic, all she wanted to do was strip and rub her swollen pussys nether lips until she shrieked in orgasmic delight, but that wasn't the case. She had no idea what had come over her, but all she could think about was separating the hunk from his expensive clothing and making love to him.

"Whoa, look, police are around here like roaches on rancid meat. Don't make me scream," she said, making her tone tougher than she felt. Inside she quaked like a wobbly bowl of gelatin.

"I'd like nothing better," he said, and closed the distance between them in seconds. Towering over her, she inhaled him deeply and like an intoxicating drug, his scent shot through her, turning her raging lust outward. Sweat broke over her face despite the crisp evening air.

"What, what are you?" she asked, frowning at him.

Had he injected her with some date rape drug? She didn't recall it. He hadn't touched her at all, or been close enough to slip her something. Until this moment, he hadn't been within touching distance.

"My name's Ryan," he said, but he didn't extend his hand. "Come with me, please."
She raised her hand to swat it away, even as her mouth watered at the thought of slipping one of his beautiful digits into her mouth and sucking it the way she wanted to with his…
"Please leave me alone," she growled, biting back the desire bubbling inside. "Please."
She couldn't quite fathom what she pleaded for, but she knew it resided south of his nice belt buckle. She gulped down the hard knot of craving in her throat and panted out the passion crawling all over her, for him.

Ryan stepped back and sucked in a steady stream of air. As he did so, the pressure eased around her. How was he doing that? Wait. Was he doing it? She could breathe again, but her desire hummed beneath her flesh.

"What's your name?" he said, laughing. "I didn't mean to freak you out. I just haven't ever heard a trumpet melody like that one."
She gave him a nervous smile. Easy on the eyes and polite, but then so was Ted Bundy.

"Thanks."

"Can I get you a cup of coffee?" he asked, and the soft flush of heat on his face.

It meant more to her than before. Nervous. Like any other male trying to get into her pants.

"I dunno," she said. "I don't talk to strangers."

"Am I so strange?"

"Yes," she whispered, not meeting his eyes. She didn't want to see the raging lust she felt reflected in his eyes. If she did, she might take him up on his unspoken offer to exchange phone numbers.

"I understand," he said and waved her off. "Good evening."

The moment he disappeared from sight, her body relaxed and all things settled back to normal. Trembling from the sudden shift, Tiffany went into Jojo's and ordered a regular coffee, black. Her body shuddered, despite the coffee's heat. The cold feeling rippled across her flesh, except for the triangle between her legs. It burned like a furnace during a winter storm.

And she knew what thick log she wanted put on that fire.

Dont' forget to snag the first book in the series: An Open Lure from Mocha Memoirs Press, LLC.

Spiritwalker by Charisma Knight

2010-08-20T05:43:00.000-07:00

GENRE:

Erotic Romance/Paranormal

BLURB:

Things can't get much better for Vivian Patterson at the ripe old age of thirty-eight. She's got an excellent job, looks that kill, and a smokin' hot bod. Oh, she also has a loving, faithful boyfriend who sends her blood pressure skyrocketing through the roof. She couldn't ask for anything more, right?

Magnus Abernethy, Vivian's boyfriend is all any woman could ever want in a man. He is handsome as hell, has an adorable personality, and is willing to go that extra mile to please his woman. Magnus is the total package. There is just one problem with this relationship. Magnus is a spirit, trapped within another realm....

This situation was never a problem for Vivian, but she discovers as time moves on, she craves him to be flesh and blood, forever, not just for an entire evening.

Can Vivian and Magnus overcome a witch's cruel curse, and carry on through life, the way it was intended, or will the menacing dark force from their past threaten any happiness that may be in the stars for them?

EXCERPT:

Magnus bent down and planted a kiss on her lips. When he straightened, Vivian released a high-pitched laugh. Magnus arched a brow and folded his arms. "What amuses ye now?"

"Honey, I'm sorry, but- Here, wipe your lips. You have lipstick on them." Vivian doubled over at the expression etched on her lover's face. His forehead wrinkled and the dazed and confused look he sported was priceless.

"Ah, wait till ye return from work. I shall make ye pay for this. Then again, I should be used to yer jests." A smile formed on his lips and he pulled Vivian close to him, planting fiery kisses along the column of her neck. Vivian groaned as she leaned into Magnus' strong, muscular physique.

"Tell me what you plan to do to me." Her lips parted, and she gently raked her nails across the flesh of his chiseled biceps. "Oh Magnus, please don't-stop."

"I shall put ye across me knee and give ye a spanking ye-so deserve." Vivian giggled. She had spent years working with Magnus on his speech, sometimes in vain, she thought. Entrapped within the thirteenth-century time frame, his realm held control even over his speech. Even so, he still possessed that thick, intriguing accent that sent her blood pressure skyrocketing.

"Promises, promises." She wrapped her arms around his large frame and buried her face into his chest. "I love you so much. I have to go-off to the rat races now."

"Aye, yes best be goin' now. Off with ye! I just wish ye luck once more. " Magnus bent down one last time, giving her a peck on the forehead. His scent mixed within her nostrils, and Vivian gritted her teeth as she glanced at the clock. Would there be time for a quickie? No, she couldn't risk it. There were never any quickies with her and Magnus. She would wind up missing the entire day of work. Quickly she dismissed the thought and focused on her job.

"Thank you. I can't believe today is only Wednesday. I wish it were Friday, but hopefully by Monday I'll be working from home. Okay, baby, I have to run. I wish we could hop in the bed, and didn't have a care in the world."

"Wishful thinking." Vivian's heart melted when Magnus flashed her a warm , lusty smile. Moisture formed between her legs when he slipped and index finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up to look into his eyes. "Have a beautiful day. I be missin' ye already, love." He leaned down and kissed her, his tongue parting her lips and dancing with hers. Her nipples tingled and she groaned as his hands traveled south, exploring her firm ass.

"You'd better stop, now!" Vivian broke the connection and grabbed her purse and coffee with Magnus at her heels. They journeyed from the living room.

"May I ride with ye?" Stopping at the front door, Vivian held up her hand in an effort to slow Magnus' roll.

"Whoa, big boy!" She chuckled as she recalled a not too distant memory. "I have a thirty-five minute commute that involves me sitting in traffic. Do you remember the reaction of the couple in the car next to us when you played with my pussy?"

A smile curved Magnus' lips, and he folded his arms. "An', ye point?" He grinned as he dodged a swat from Vivian.

"No, Magnus, you can't travel with me. People think I'm crazy whenever you're around me, seriously."

"Well, just stick that little blue thing in yer ear, lass, act like yer talking on that blackberry thing."

"That's BlackBerry, silly ass!" Vivian laughed as she swung the purse over her shoulder. "Baby, I love you, but I've got to go." They kissed again, and Vivian bolted out the door, leaving Magnus alone in the cozy two-bedroom apartment.

PURCHASE

Just An Average Vampire by Charisma Knight

2010-08-15T07:12:00.000-07:00

Genre: IR Paranormal

Blurb:

After discovering the courage to divorce her abusive husband, Trina Jones rises from her ashes like the legendary Phoenix. Strong-willed and determined, she rebuilds her independence. After her divorce, a string of bad luck sets her back tremendously. Faced with eviction and repossession, Trina becomes frustrated. To make matters worse, she is laid off from her job. Vampire Cecil McKagan graciously accepts Trina into his home once he discovers her hardship. The bond between them ultimately strengthens, and the pair become lovers. However, past negativities threaten to tear the couple apart...

Excerpt:

As he walked through the harsh December rain, Cecil McKagen worried about his friend, Trina. She should have been off from work by now, and he thought she’d call if she ran late. The vampire was in love with the brown-skinned woman. So much so he would have laid down his very life for her. After a full year of knowing this human, it sickened him to hear how her ex-husband had treated her. He wanted to confront Rick. However, that would have created worse problems.

There had been times she appeared at his door, seeking his help. Even before opening his door, he’d known something was wrong. He didn’t need his vampire instincts to tell him so. Several times, she had come to him, beaten and bruised, and an emotional wreck. It took every ounce of strength not to harm Rick.

Tonight was his night off from the pub, and he needed to run to the grocery store to grab a few items. Although stocked on animal blood, Cecil’s cravings for human blood intensified.

When he returned, he saw that his car had a large dent in it. He had planned on watching his favorite cop show and enjoy his evening off until…

“Son of a bitch!” was all Cecil could manage upon seeing his car in this condition. His thoughts gravitated toward Trina. Panic-stricken, he wondered if she was all right. Why the hell hadn’t she called him? Standing in the cold downpour, blinking, he tried sensing her. His incisors descended, and he inhaled her feminine scent and the smell of her blood. Trina was waiting for him upstairs in the hallway.

Climbing the stairs of the old building, Cecil wondered, again, why she hadn’t called him. Something wasn’t right, and he hoped Rick wasn’t fucking with her. His black leather coat was soaked, and his cock hardened upon seeing Trina leaning against his door, her head turning toward him as he approached her. When her eyes met his gaze, heat seared through Cecil’s soul. Something was wrong, though. Her eyes held such a sadness that cut him to the quick. She looked like she was losing her battle at life.

“Cecil,” Trina greeted him, flinging her arms around him. She stood on her tiptoes, trying to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I forgot my key.”

“Woman, I told you to put the spare on your keychain. It’s cold for you out in this bloody hallway, and why the hell didn’t you call me?” The vampire inserted his key into the door, relieved that she was in one piece.

“I’m sorry. I just had so many things going on today. Don’t you want to know what happened to your car?”

“I’m not fucking worried about the car. I’m pissed because you could have picked up the bloody phone to call me!” he chastised.

“I had an accident.”

“I saw, and?” His cock hardened at the thought of placing her over his knee and paddling that scrumptious ass of hers. He should, for making him worry so much.

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My Serbian Wolf by Charisma Knight

2010-08-14T22:18:00.000-07:00

Genre: IR Paranormal Romance

Blurb:

Niko sacrificed himself once for the sake of his pack, but will he discover another lesson of self sacrifice that may release him from his spiritual imprisonment? Centuries later, he discovers his life mate, Rebecca, the one who can make him whole once again. For Niko and Rebecca, a second chance at love is just a breath away.

Excerpt:

Clutching the bed furs, Rebecca shivered as she returned to the warmth of the bed. The cold air hardened her chocolate nipples, causing the silk to feel harsh against them. Candles adorned the room, and a slight breeze caused the flames to sway in a smooth fluid motion, in such a strange hypnotizing way. It was no secret, once again she'd been thrust into an alternate reality.

A growl made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Chills skittered down her spine, causing goose bumps to erupt over her flesh. The bed sat adjacent to the entrance of the room, and within the door- frame she caught a glimpse of Niko's large silhouette. From what she could see, his eyes appeared to be silver, or perhaps the candlelight played tricks upon her eyes.

Seeking more warmth, Rebecca tucked the furs closer to her body. Her breath escaped her as the wolf man moved closer into view, leaning against the stone wall. Silver eyes pierced her soul, and her pussy clenched in anticipation. Hot cream flooded her silk panties when Niko finally came into full view, snatching her breath away like a thief in the night.

She smiled. "I've missed you. Her pulsed quickened, and her clit throbbed. She ached with want at the thought of his hardened body slipping and sliding against hers.

"And I've missed you, Ljubavnica (lee oo bav neet sa)."

Rebecca swallowed hard as the large, muscular man, who stood at six-foot-three appeared to float into the room. Every time Rebecca saw him, many memories invade her psyche, causing her to remember their past lives together. Tonight, he wore a blood red wool shirt, and black cotton knickers, that were pretty damned form-fitting against his chiseled body.

His features appear to be carved from stone and adorned with tell-tale signs of his age, sending her blood pressure through the roof. To Rebecca, he looked to be in his early to mid forties, but she knew Niko was centuries old. Gray streaks were prominent throughout his black, shoulder length hair. Rebecca shuddered, not from the cold, but from eyes that were now black as obsidian. She released a breath and shuddered in anticipation of what was to come. Those eyes possessed ancient unspoken secrets, and promised hours of forbidden carnal pleasures.

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Allie & the Handcuffs By Zade Ryar

2010-08-07T20:41:00.000-07:00

From the series: Journal of a Man in Love. Journal entry #1: Allie and the Handcuffs

Genre: IR Erotic Romance

Blurb:

The Journal of a Man in Love are short stories that chronicles the private thoughts and actions of a man completely, totally and utterly in love with his woman. Written completely from a male point of view, take a peek inside what's in a man's heart and mind.

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Fantasies by Laura Guevara & Shara Azod

2010-08-07T00:05:00.000-07:00

Genre: I/R Erotic Romance

Blurb:

Mercy has the worst case of writer’s block. How was she supposed to write out fantasies when reality was oh-so-delicious? Luckily, her new husband knows just the thing to get her creative juices flowing. Punishment had never been so sweet.

Excerpt:

"Maybe you need a little motivation, ummm?" Grady grazed her ear with his teeth causing shivers to race up her spine. She had been wet from the moment she heard his voice, but now her juices rushed forward with that little touch.

Instead of turning her over his knees as Mercy expected, Grady stood and led her back to her desk, pulling the chair out for her. She didn't need to be instructed to sit, she knew what he wanted. Well as far as sitting anyway. She had no clue as to what he would do next. He couldn't very well spank her while she sat. Oh, how she loved his spankings; bare handed was her favorite, though the velvet covered paddle was nothing to be sneezed at.

She fingered the ornate collar she wore nervously as he gave her one of those half smiles of his. That smile promised all sorts of untold delights, but it also promised she would pay for her transgression. Doubting herself was a biggie in Grady's book.

"Collar a little tight, baby?"

Mercy shook her head, gulping a little. Her collar was beautiful; handcrafted woven threads intricately twined together with a small emerald at the center. With her hair down, it looked like a delicate choker of woven gold strands. No one was the wiser of the tiny padlock at the back. Strangely, the weight of that lock gave her a sense of security.

"Lift your dress to your knees and spread your legs wide for me." Mercy's breath caught as Grady somehow fit his large frame under her desk, pulling her to him. All she could do was whimper at the long, leisurely swipe of his tongue against the seam of her labia. She wanted to pull his head closer, force his tongue deeper inside her, but she didn't dare. She now had a fairly good idea of what Grady intended, and the very idea had her gritting her teeth in frustration.

"Start writing, baby girl. Hit five hundred words and I will give you a reward. But if you don't..." He pulled at her clit using just his pressed lips, sending a bolt of sizzling sensation straight up her spine. "If you don't this can go on for hours."

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After Run Shower by Zade Ryar

2010-08-01T21:17:00.000-07:00

From the series: Journal of a Man in Love. Journal entry #2: After Run Shower

Genre: IR Erotic

Blurb:

The Journal of a Man in Love are short stories that chronicles the private thoughts and actions of a man completely, totally and utterly in love with his woman. Written completely from a male point of view, take a peek inside what's in a man's heart and mind.

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A Healer's Bond by RaeLynn Blue

2010-07-29T22:03:00.000-07:00

Author: RaeLynn Blue
Publisher: Mocha Memoirs Press, LLC
Genre: Paranormal I/R Erotic Romance (BW/WM)
Price: $5.00
Purchase Link: http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/a-healers-bond/9076817
Also available from ARe

Blurb:

The John Doe bleeding out on the ER gurney had to be the sexiest man Adele had ever seen. Too beautiful to die. As an ER nurse, she works to save him, but her connection--to him lingers long after he's out of danger. What she didn’t expect was that before the night was over, her life would end up in his strong, surprisingly capable hands.

Wyatt Young’s exile had few perks—condemned to Greensboro, he had a steady stream of loud, cranky people, and lousy food. Constantly hunted by his uncle, he’s startled when he wake up shirtless in a hospital, with his sword missing and his torso ripped apart. A beautiful healer helps him recover—a healer he can’t stop thinking about even when he passes out.

A bond is formed between Adele and Wyatt—one they can’t fight. Wyatt’s uncle seeks to make Adele his personal healer—at any cost. Adele is the key to Wyatt’s salvation and his redemption. He won’t let her go without a fight. Ever.

Excerpt:

“Adele! Get over here!” Jason, the doctor on duty roared, sending spittle across the bleeding man’s torso. The din drowned all the other noises, shouts and the blast of the coughing scarlet spats bursting from the injured man’s mouth. “This guy is going into cardiac arrest!”
“Hold your water, Wilson!” Adele said under her breath and blew a soft curl that had escaped her ponytail out of her eyes.
She dug into one of her front smock’s pockets and took out her syringe. She hurried into the curtained off room, and the scene hit her hard, stopping her in her tracks. On the slab of cold metal lay a man so striking, her breath hitched in her chest. The swarm of medical staff around the ivory, chiseled physique didn’t seem to give a damn how he looked. Spasming and flapping about like a fish out of water, several of the nurses struggled to keep him on the table.
“Hold him down!” Jason ordered; his gray hair fell into his eyes. “His blood pressure’s falling. Adele! Wake the fuck up! Get over here! Sedate him already! He’s trying to get off the fucking table! Paddles! Paddles!”
Habit took over and Adele bolted into action, allowing her instincts to come like lightening through her. She couldn’t let him die. Not him. The thought didn’t even warrant her full attention. A numbness that usually came with this type of emergency thawed. The patient groaned as the syringe bit into his muscular arm, finding its target and pumping its liquid relaxation into his bloodstream.
Adele wanted to save him. She always wanted to be a nurse. Taking care of others came naturally as it seemed with most African American women. The caregivers of their communities, the nurturers, the matriarchs, and nothing made her feel more alive and worthy than helping someone in pain find peace. Nurse-that may have been her profession, but the hunk on the slab conjured more than a healing instinct.
Much more if the tingling in her back held any indication.
“Clear!” Jason bellowed and all the dozens of gloved hands on the naked torso she had mentally claimed as her territory retreated.
Electricity burst through the unnamed man forcing the handsome body to surge upward from the table. In the wake of the widespread flurry of trying to save his life, a tight tension emerged as the seconds ticked by.
Come on, breathe, beat heart, beat!
As if answering her silent pleading, the soft beep, beep on the monitor signaled a whoosh of relief. One of the nurses wheeled in a temporary bed and together they lifted him onto the scratchy white sheets and pillows. People began to dissipate, moving on to the next adrenaline jolt-emergency.
I should be going, handsome stranger.
But she couldn’t. His chocolate curls lay plastered to his damp, perfectly sculptured face. She rubbed the wet strands back and watched him wince as if her touch burned or caused him pain. Her fingers moved on their own accord, running up his muscular arm, across the band-aid there and on.
He groaned.
Fearing he may be cold from the chilly room temperature, she threw a blanket over his nakedness. The paramedics had cut away his shirt to give them direct access to the large gaping stab wound in his abdomen. They’d already stitched it back together, but he had lost so much blood. The blood transfusion line worked to replenish the loss, but his heart had tried to give up first.
Thankfully, that hadn’t happened.
“Who are you?” she asked aloud, and peered closely at his shoulder where some kind of design had been burned into the skin. Not a tattoo, a brand, and it appeared to be a K encircled in an oval. He’d been branded, but not in the Greek Fraternity manner. Or maybe it was, though he looked too mature to be into the whole frat thing.
Her hands drifted downward, and over his rock hard abs. She caught herself before they drifted further below. Ethics blared inside her and she snatched her hands from beneath the blanket. Cheeks warm and panties wet, she stepped back and picked up his chart.
It read “John Doe 02282009.”
She allowed her fingers to stroke his lower lips, noting their curvy shape and how deeply pink they were. Kissable lips. Lips that shouldn’t be on any man who didn’t want a woman puckering up and tonguing him down. What would it be like to have all this patient’s hard surfaces pressed against her tender spots?
God, I need to reacquaint myself with Mr. Black because I’m trying to kiss an unconscious patient. Shit, Adele. Get a life!
“Adele!”
Jason called her again. Bastard. There were other nurses, but he liked to pick on her for reasons she couldn’t come close to fathoming.
Once she got to the curtained entrance way, the good-looking brunette released another pant.
“You! Come with haste!” he croaked, struggling up on to his elbows. His bag-heavy eyelids flapped open. His voice, thick with urgency forced her to turn back. It rolled over the machines’ murmurings and bowled directly into her heart.
“Yes?” she asked, hurrying to his side. She wiped the new droplets of sweat littering his wide brow. “You were badly hurt. You’re at University General’s Emergency room.”
“Stop babbling woman!” he growled, leaning up further and sitting up fully. The blanket dropped to his waist and exposed the deliciously ripped torso, and the glaring scarlet slash of violence.
Brilliant leafy colored eyes met hers, but they burned with purpose and fire.
“I have to get out of here!” he said before falling into a series of coughs.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Adele said and gently tried to push the hard body back down to the bed. “You suffered a
major stab wound, lost a lot of blood, and died for about four seconds…”
The brute ignored her and began to snatch out his I.V. without even blinking. His blood transfusion line met a similar fate, spilling crimson droplets across the floor, his chest, and the blanket.
“I have much to do,” he said as much to himself as he did to her. He threw the covering to the floor, swung his legs around to the side of the bed and stood. Bare feet met cold linoleum.
“Stop!” Adele yelled, but couldn’t stop her eyes from following the blanket’s descent and the tight, yummy and very nude body it revealed.
He snatched her by the shoulders.
“Out of my way!”
“You can’t just leave…”
“Watch me…”
“…fall,” Adele finished for him, as she hurried to grab the handsome man who crumbled on the spot. “I tried to tell you. You aren’t going to get too far. You’ve lost way too much blood.”
Those fire filled eyes drifted close and his head swayed, rolling sideways and slumped, like the rest of him.
Damn, he’s heavy!
He fell forward, into her arms all dead, no pun intended, weight. He dropped like a wilted flower, and Adele could feel his pulse beat sluggishly against her flat palm.
“Jason! Todd! Bon!”
Todd ran into the room, eyes wide, white coat flapping in his haste.
“Adele? What the hell happened?” Todd asked, hoisting the now unconscious patient back onto the table. Taking the man from her as if he didn’t weigh anything, Todd sucked his teeth in displeasure.
“He woke up and went crazy,” she explained and took out another syringe.
Todd nodded. “Blood transfusion is not done. Brain can be all ready and charged, but the body ain’t ready to do nothin’.”
Adele nodded in agreement. Though she had some ideas for that body she’d like to try out when it became ready. Sexual healing not withstanding.
Todd dumped the patient back onto the bed as she went about reinserting the patient’s transfusion line and his IV. She upped the dose to keep him sedated. Obviously what she had given him earlier wasn’t enough to keep him sleeping.
Todd sucked his teeth.
“Crazies.”
He lumbered out.
Unable to follow him directly, she lingered, her eyes tracing the outline of the patient’s body beneath the blanket’s thin white covering.
“Come on. Dr. Wilson needs you to help deliver a breech baby over in 3.”
Even as she followed Todd out of the room, the situation stayed with her. The look in those fabulous eyes would haunt her tonight when she finally closed her own to sleep. Well, morning, since it was already two a.m.
“Adele! Trauma code yellow!” Jason screamed as he raced by the room. “Room three!”
Reluctance rooted her to the spot.
Duty drove her feet forward.
Leaving her curiosity behind.

Summer Sweets: Home by Shara Azod

2010-07-16T21:43:00.000-07:00

Genre: Contemporary Multicultural Romance

Sweet Summer romance shorts to make you sigh. Perfect for a lunch hour get away!

Blurb:

Steve knew exactly why he had returned to the small home town where he'd been raised after years of chasing stories across the globe. The only problem was getting his reason, Ana, to see how serious he was about her, and how very much he missed having a home.

Excerpt:

Steve hadn’t tried to make the moves on her. He had kissed her softly after taking her home, the briefest of butterfly kisses reminiscent of a time long, long ago. And he called the next day, and the next. Despite the fact he had started his new position at the college, he never failed to call to wish her a good night. Today, she received a bouquet of roses, white, pink and red mixed together with baby breath coupled with a very large teddy bear. Her heart took a tiny little leap when she saw them; she had always adored baby breath, but her weakness was stuffed animals. He remembered! The card had made her week.

Counting the hours until Friday night.
Until then, hug Teddy and think of me.
Love,
Steve

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Eagle's Refuge by Regina Carlysle

2010-06-29T20:34:00.000-07:00

Available at: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-8430-eagles-refuge.aspx
Publisher: Ellora's Cave
Genre: Western
ISBN: 9781419928925

BLURB:
Book three in the Texas Passions series.

When Callista Hill settles in tiny Morgan’s Creek, she vows to make a better life for herself. She never figured lust and screaming-hot orgasms were part of the equation. One look at the local bar owner and she’s flooded with the need to have him in her bed. He burns her to ash with every erotic touch, bringing her sex-starved body achingly to life.

The instant dark, moody Mac Moreno claps eyes on Callie, he knows he wants her. Her lush curves turn him inside out and have his libido racing from zero to sixty in three seconds flat. Burning up the sheets with this sassy, sweet lady brings him back to life. But when her stalking ex hunts her down, will Callie run?

Not if Mac can help it.

EXCERPT:

Mac Moreno leaned back against the corral fence and looked out over land that now belonged, in part, to him. A year ago, he would never have imagined such a thing but with Joe Morgan’s death, the White Eagle Ranch had been split into thirds, leaving his half sister Leah, half brother Dash and himself with a legacy that was pretty overwhelming to a guy who’d scratched out a living alone for most of his life.
Heavy noonday sunshine beat down on him. Mac swept the battered straw cowboy hat from his head and mopped his sweaty brow with a bandana he kept tucked in his back pocket.
Damn hot today.
A savage shriek ripped through the air. Mac squinted at the violently blue Texas sky and watched a lone eagle glide through that vivid palette to land on the roof of the barn where it pierced him with an unblinking gaze. Eagle and man shared a moment of utter communion. No doubt the bird of prey wondered what the hell a nobody like himself was doing out here laying claim to this land, this ranch.
Mac had asked himself the same question a million times over the past few months. Sending his gaze over the immediate area, taking in the stately ranch house in the distance, the corrals, the barn, he wondered about the fickleness of fate. His mother Elena had been the housekeeper for Joe Morgan thirty-odd years ago and on one hot Texas night, she’d slept with the boss and wound up pregnant. That event had ended her employment at White Eagle Ranch and she’d moved on to clean the houses of wealthy folks in the town of Morgan’s Creek, scratching out a living as a single mother until the day she’d died.
Mac’s jaw tightened.
As he shifted his gaze to the side of the barn, memories assaulted him, bitter and ultimately humiliating. He’d been sixteen, a gangly kid who knew full well the rich, powerful Joe Morgan was the father who’d never claimed him, never wanted him.
“What the hell are you doing here, boy?”
Mac swallowed hard. His hands were shaking but he didn’t want his father to see so he shoved them in the pockets of his jeans and tried like hell to look cool. “Looking for work, sir.”
Joe scowled at him. He was a big man with a shock of white hair and as intimidating as hell. This was the man who didn’t want him, didn’t speak to him on the streets of Morgan’s Creek, the town that bore his name. The big man looked down and then up, taking him in, sizing him up, and Mac knew Joe Morgan didn’t like what he saw. Nope. He didn’t measure up but had he thought he would? He’d been fooling himself.
“Aren’t you Elena Moreno’s kid?”
“Yessir.”
Silence fell. Mac sucked in a breath and held it. What the hell had he been thinking? Had he imagined his dad would call him son and hug him like he meant it?
Suddenly Mac felt stupid and dumb and more on the outside than ever before.
Why would the all-powerful Joe Morgan ever in a million years acknowledge a poor Mexican kid from the wrong side of the tracks? To most of the town, Mac was nothing but trash. He had no hope of college and could lay claim to no kind of future. Hell, his mom had saved for years just to buy him a class ring so he could remember his high school days. Dumb thing but it made Elena proud to do it. She’d saved every dime so he could have a couple of new pairs of jeans at the start of every school year. She’d worked her fingers to the bone, scrubbing toilets and polishing floors, to give him the bare necessities of life. Joe Morgan had never contributed. Not once.
In the distance, a horse galloped across a pasture. Pretty Leah, his half sister, the legitimate child of Joe Morgan, was out riding her beautiful mare, her ponytail whipping out behind her like a shiny flag. Resentment welled up deep inside him. His heart tightened and frustration dug steely spurs into his belly. She had everything. He had nothing. The fact that she didn’t know he was her brother wasn’t the issue. Mac was so jealous he wanted to just die.
He was the unacknowledged bastard kid of a rich dude who apparently hated his guts.
Mac focused on the older man and wanted to kick his own ass. His being here was stupid, ridiculous.
Joe shifted his stance and gave him a fierce look. “Think you’ve got what it takes to be a cowboy, kid?”
The spit dried in Mac’s mouth. “Yessir.”
“Well, I don’t think so,” he drawled. “Got plenty of hands and they don’t need to be babysitting you. Now you get on out of here, kid. You don’t belong here.”
Mac watched him walk away without a backward glance, standing there, his eyes burning like hellfire from tears. Then he turned and ran as fast as he could to the old beat-up truck he’d borrowed from a friend. Slamming the door of the truck, he rubbed his stinging eyes before driving away.

Lasso A Lover by RaeLynn Blue

2010-06-26T18:34:00.000-07:00

Genre: contemporary, erotic romance, IR (BW/Native American and White Male)
ISBN: 978-1-936271-86-3 (eBook)
Available at: www.beautifultroublepublishing.com
Download: Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket PDA (with DRM for Kindle)

Blurb:

Lee Stone's regular trips to Las Vegas had always been her escapes from her boring life. The biggest draw was the handsome man who wore the cowboy costume at Dante's annual freak party. She didn't know his name, but Lee knew she wanted more of what they’d started a year before. With her sexy cowgirl outfit, she definitely wanted to lasso that lover.

Tank Begaye's annual visit to Las Vegas had all the ordinary hallmarks of business travel—clients to meet, document signings, a slick hotel room, and one cowgirl to see. Over a year ago, Tank enjoyed all the SINs Vegas had to offer—especially at Dante's costumed freak party. Unlike the year before, however, this time Tank would not go home empty handed. This year, he was going to lasso a lover.

Adult Excerpt (+18):

Tank met her eyes, and she looked away. Shy? No woman who came to these kinds of parties could be shy. He peered at her intently. What gives? Last year she’d been much more pliable. But then she’d been dressed like a seductive vampire, had drunk numerous glasses of chardonnay, and spilled herself all over him. It marveled him that she had remembered him at all.

“You want to go to my room?” Tank asked, not sure she’d take him up on it, but he didn’t want to scream at her for the rest of the night. The music hadn’t overridden their conversation inside the suite, but now, it played like a buzzing or humming—just loud enough to be annoying. “I know how that sounds, and I know you just met me…”

She searched Tank’s face, and the cowgirl let her smile broaden. Something in his face must’ve convinced her or made her trust him—he didn’t know. Lee said, “Yes. I’ll go to your room.”

Tank had reserved a room in this hotel. Part of it had everything to do with convenience, but the other part resided in his hope he’d meet this woman again and be able to take her to his room—dangerous, yes. The girl-next-door look of her might be an act, but he wanted some alone time with her. Hell, he wanted time to unwrap her from that costume—though there wasn’t a lot of it—and taste each inch of her glowing skin. His palms itched to wrap around her round buttocks. To be truthful, he wanted to palm them the way men palm basketballs—with a caressing possessiveness.

He had to touch her, but he avoided her ass—they hadn’t reached that point yet. So, Tank touched her shoulder to get her attention.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to see you,” he confessed.

“Me too,” she breathed, and her eyes lowered to half mast.

He liked how her ponytails seemed to shimmer when she cooed like that, as if the vibrant emotions rippled through to the tips of her hair. There was so much to like about her, he didn’t know where to look or touch first.

She tilted her head up to him. With a deep intake of breath, she laced her arm around his neck and held them there, not pulling him closer to her moist, parted lips. She exhaled and licked her lips so slowly, her dark rose tongue glided across her lower lip and all he could see was it drifting across the tip of his cock. He wondered what flavor lip gloss she wore. She sighed seductively, like he knew she’d sound when riding his rod, and then to further torment him, she ran her tongue over her upper lip just as damn slow as she had before. Damn her for teasing him. His phallus had already begun to weep, and he swallowed the lump of lust in his throat.

Unable to stop himself, he snatched her to him and hungrily took her mouth. Drawn in by some strange attraction he didn’t quite understand, he kissed her hard, sort of punishing her for taunting him so. But instead of recoiling from him, his tough cowgirl melded into him. Automatically, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her further into him.

Strawberry lip gloss.

Cook's Choice By RaeLynn Blue

2010-05-06T23:12:00.000-07:00

Purchase here: http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/cooks-choice/10892401
Genre: I/R Erotic Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Mocha Memoirs Press
Series: Somethin' Cookin' (Stand Alone book)

Blurb:

After the fiasco at Thelma’s Eatery, southern cook, Leroy moves far from the glitz and glamour of ATL and down to a small town in Florida. The last thing he wanted was a fling with another waitress. But a fling with another cook, is a whole other story—this one.

Biracial beauty,Sienna has lived in Apalachicola all her life. Although a head cook, she had to admit her heart’s fire had burned out long ago. Fortunate for her, Leroy’s hot flame was just the match to set her lust and her longings on fire. Will Leroy and Sienna allow their slow burning attraction to build or will it burn out too fast? It’s the Cook’s Choice.

Excerpt:

His gut burned at the mention of heading back to Atlanta. Rae didn’t work at Thelma’s anymore. But every time he went into the kitchen, her ghost was resurrected and haunted him. Ghostly images of her hot ass saddled across his waist as she rode him on the kitchen floor assaulted him. He couldn’t breathe without inhaling her scent, and he’d never eat chocolate pudding again.

Leroy found himself more than a little bored by the lack of engaging recipes or entrees on Maze’s menu. The hot action occurred on the dinner shift. Fish dishes and seafood from the bay made excellent opportunities for experimentation and the creation of innovative dishes. That was one thing this place had over Thelma’s.

The opportunity to learn seafood-worthy recipes, to meet interesting people, and to immerse himself in the stress-free days of being away from the hustle of big city life were all reasons why he’d come to the bay. He’d exhausted most of his time and talents at Thelma’s—he wanted something else in his life.

A woman.

A cold smirk etched itself across his face, and his heart tightened in anger.

Hell no. A change of locale, yes, but a woman. No.

He thought Rae would be the one, but her untamable heart and wild behavior doomed them from the start. Blinded by his lust and chained by his reasoning, he’d allowed her to use him like a human-sized dildo. She’d sashay her fine ass into the kitchen, shaking her tail feathers and throwing off hormones like a teenager, and damn, down went his defenses. She had cracked him down into many small insignificant pieces. He didn’t know if he could pick them up, let alone put them back together into some semblance of a heart.

“How’s it going, newbie?” came a husky voice from the rear door of the restaurant. “Maze said he was bringing you in today to start the big-time Saturday crowd.”

Leroy looked from the grill to the direction of the voice. He may be new, but he wasn’t a soft rug to be walked on by anyone. And her tone told him he’d have to set her straight—and that he wanted her sassy mouth covering his cock.

But first things first.

He spun around to put her on point, but his saucy words died on his lips as his eyes rested on the owner of the rather rude questioning and throaty voice. His eyes traveled over her sneaker-clad feet, shapely calves, and full thighs, and to the slacks-covered triangle. Without waiting, his gaze continued upward, past a trim waist and generous apple-sized breasts, before locking on her face. His cock grew heavier with each eyeful of the woman.

A curvaceous woman in an apple-red apron and scarlet slacks with thick brunette hair that rippled down to her shoulders had her hands on her hips. She wore a nice, pleasant smile, despite the frosty tone. Beneath the fall of luscious hair were two green eyes as sharp as emeralds. They bore into him, unrelenting and unabashed at their frankness.

“Yeah, and you are?” Leroy managed to say, clearing the dryness in his throat by swallowing hard—and loud. The knot dropped directly into his phallus, forcing it to stretch from its dormant state.

Baby, who are you?

“Sienna Smalls,” she said, her hand out and available. Nude fingernails topped lean fingers, long and ready to rake shivers down his back. “I’m the head cook. We haven’t met earlier because I’ve been covering night shift since Santiago had a death in the family.”

Seems this job ain’t so bad after all. At least the view is good.

Leroy shook her hand, feeling her cool, pale one in his. The rough patches from grease burns had singed certain oval patches of her flesh. Her nails weren’t even or polished for that matter.

A true cook.

“Nice to meet you, Sienna.” And he meant every word.

“Nice to meet you, newbie,” she replied, pulling her hand free and wiping it on her slacks.

Great. His sweat wouldn’t even make it to her apron.

Come on, baby. Give me a shot. Wait. She might be married or have a lover already.

His eyes swept over her again and he nodded to himself. No way is this beautiful woman unattached. Someone must have staked a claim on her. Hell, if she were mine, I would’ve marked her ass good and proper.

A flash of hot rage rushed through him, but was hastily put out by his logic. The very possibility that someone would touch her, kiss those pouty lips, and suck the lower one between his teeth made him temporarily furious.

Slow, slow your roll here. She’s taken and she off limits. End of discussion.

Leroy went back to the grill and awaited orders from newly arriving customers. Maze’s spot was a popular place for people who ate breakfast—the best in town. As soon as the clock flipped to seven, people rolled in. Leroy could hear them getting settled in booths, tables and along the u-shaped counter around the bar. Wasn’t a bar now, but once happy hour arrived, the bartender, Sal, would start serving it up. Maze would transform into a booming, happening spot.

Silence gave way to chatter and conversations in the restaurant.

Sienna sashayed on by him, her hips bumping him in the process, and causing his arousal to escalate.
He fought down the urge to grab those shapely buttocks and press them against his cock. Instead he clutched one of the kitchen towels in his hands, twisting it as the yearning receded.

Once her apron was tied, Sienna pulled her hair into a ponytail while she walked around the kitchen, checking things with her eyes and nodding to herself.

“Get the egg skillets, newbie,” she ordered, with the right mix of authority and sensual prowess—and she didn’t even know it. “Lower cabinet, yeah that one, the right door.”

Leroy did as he was told and over the next four hours, he obeyed every command shouted from

Sienna and the stream of waitresses and waiters flowing through the kitchen.

During the occasional lulls in traffic, he got a chance to spy the head chef and he enjoyed what he saw. He enjoyed it very much. The apron highlighted every curve, and the heat in the kitchen gave her olive skin a rosy flush he wanted to kiss, and to rub his hands across. The way her ponytail bounced, the way her eyes—wide and sharp with intelligence—were on everything with deadly accuracy. She caught nearly every mistake he made and those of the waitresses.

No one escaped her temper or her tongue.

I.G.O. Sudden Snow by RaeLynn Blue

2010-04-17T23:07:00.000-07:00

Genre: Sci-Fi, IR

Blurb:

Some secrets could change a galaxy -- if they don’t get you killed.

Dr. Cricket Moore is running for her life. Her coworkers murdered and her research stolen, she has no one to turn to. When she’s thrust into the hands of an Intergalactic Organization officer to be transported to headquarters for interrogation, her only hope is to trust her life to a stranger.

It should have been one more assignment. Escort the last remaining research scientist to headquarters for debriefing. Sergeant Darryl Snow takes every mission seriously, but this one seems pretty routine. Cricket doesn’t look all that dangerous. But she’s in more trouble than even she realizes. And the instant attraction he feels for the dark skinned beauty doesn’t make the situation any easier. How can he win her trust -- and her heart -- without compromising the mission?

Darryl will stop at nothing to protect Cricket from danger… even if the greatest danger he faces is losing himself in her.

Excerpt:

What in the name of Zeus is going on here? Darryl scanned the docking bay. Empty. Vacant. No civilian transports. No outpost shuttlepods. Nothing. Where is everyone?

"You can observe the dock on your next vacation to Io. Let's go," Officer Higgins snapped and hurried through the doors and into the outpost's inner corridors.

Climbing through the catacombs of hallways, Darryl's mind whirled. They'd come to pick up a stranded scientist, so why the secrecy? Sure, Io housed the IGO's Research and Development section, but this?

In minutes, they stopped at the metallic doors with the words "Collection" in neon yellow above them. Officer Higgins halted with military precision that would be the envy of any IGO soldier. Higgins turned to Darryl with barely contained disgust.

Yeah, the feeling's mutual, pal.

"I can lose my post because of this," he said so softly, Darryl leaned in to make sure he heard it. "I -- I hope you tell..."

"Of course," Darryl agreed with professionalism. "Your contribution will be noted and included in my report to Commander Taylor. Proceed. Time is of the essence as you are well aware."

"Yes."

Higgins pressed his palm against the scanner, leaning in simultaneously for the retina scan. The doors slid open and they rushed in. Higgins bypassed the offices and continued to the rear, but that area, too, sat vacant and empty -- just like the dock.

"Where is everyone?" Darryl asked. "It's morning, right?"

Higgins sighed in fervent annoyance. "It's nearly four a.m. here. They're asleep, drunk, or knee-deep in their respective research. This isn't like Europa Outpost or even the Moon's. We're a research facility, not an entertainment spot."

They continued on through two more areas that looked identical to the first one before they reached a bank of cages. A dozen or more force field reinforced cells stretched out in two opposite directions. Dead on center in a square, blank-walled cube, seated on a sliver of azure foam attached to the wall, was a woman.

Darryl stopped in his tracks. That's her? She's the scientist?

As the noise of their approach reached the woman, she got to her feet and crossed her arms. Almond-shaped honey-brown eyes burned with what must've been fury, and her thick lips resembled a block of annoyance as if she were afraid to open them. Dressed in a gray ribbed turtleneck, jeans and black IGO issued combat/space boots, the woman looked nothing like a scientist, but more like a cargo loader.

Darryl couldn't help but take her in. The jeans skimmed voluptuous curves, and fed into a tapered waist with grace. As if taking cue from the jeans, the turtleneck also slipped over full breasts and long, slender arms. Smooth dark ebony skin peered out and captured the harsh lights' illumination with flawless skill.

She was stunning.

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, the woman shouted, "What now, Officer Higgins? I demand to be treated according to the Intergalactic Treaty of 2380."

Higgins huffed, but held his tongue. Sweeping his hand in Darryl's direction, he gave a mock bow and stepped back from the front of the cube.

It's all me, huh, Higgins?

Darryl stepped forward, forcing himself to be a soothing presence. He seemed to even coax Higgins down to a normal level. She'd done exactly as trained by invoking the treaty.
"I'm Sergeant Snow," he said. "I'm here on orders to take possession of your research and your person at this time. Please calm yourself."

She hesitated, her lips now a slash of doubt. "What is the current safe code?" she asked.

Darryl smiled. Smart. The safety code had been given to each IGO soldier, but it rotated every six months. They'd been unable to maintain constant contact with The Discovery since receiving the orders to get to the Io Outpost. So the code might be stale. Still all security codes in hostage situations were the same -- until the IGO changed them again. He had to try.

"The security code is Hera 2309841."

"Yes, okay," she said, visibly relaxing. "ID?"

He showed her his wrist, where beneath the skin rested the IGO brand.

"Great," Higgins said with sarcasm as heavy as molasses. "Open cell 1209, authorization HFPNT 2400. This is IGO Doctor Cricket Moore."

Dr. Moore.

The force field vanished, and Dr. Moore marched out with her backpack, searching the place as if committing it to memory before stalking to the exit. Once she crossed through the silver-toned doors and out into the outpost's hallway, she sighed. With a stern expression, she turned back to Darryl and said, "Please, can we go?"

"This way to the docking bay," Darryl said almost as a reflex. He'd been taking orders for most of his life, so he'd already taken a step before he realized he'd done it. Commander Taylor had instructed him to bring her to the spacecraft, not the other way around. He was in charge, and he wasn't going to let her lead the way.

But once his eyes fell on the gentle sway of her round buttocks, his other head took over. Coughing through the lump in his throat, Darryl swore as he made a point of pinning his gaze to the back of her head. Obviously, Dr. Moore knew her way around the outpost. After all, she'd been stationed here for gods knew how long.

With his uniform shrinking below his waist, he adjusted the leg and tried to rid himself of the rather unprofessional thoughts swarming his cranium about the sensual scientist. Did they all look this good? He might consider a transfer to Io. How come none of the scientists on board The Inquiry looked as delightful as this one?

Purchase

A treasure hunt contest for Su Halfwerk

2010-02-21T12:42:00.000-08:00

The contest rules are simple.

You must search through Su's website , http://su-halfwerk.com/blog/ , to find the hidden answers to her questions. Once you have successfully answered all three questions, you must e-mail your answers to: classynsassypromotions@gmail.com, putting "CONTEST ANSWERS" in the subject line of your e-mail.

The prize is an Amazon gift card for $25 and the winner will be announced on Su's website on February 28, 2010.

Here are the contest questions:

1. What publishing house is releasing Intricate Entanglement?

2. On Su's website there is a picture of a typewriter. What words are displayed on the sheet of paper in the typewriter?

3. From Untamed Temptation, what is the name of the guide who brought Magnolia to the expedition?

HAPPY TREASURE HUNTING!

2010-02-13T20:28:00.000-08:00

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Blurb:

Magnolia Colby joins a dangerous expedition in the Amazon as a substitute photographer. To push the head archeologist, Alex Marcellus, to stay on the team, she lies to him about her relationship with her brother Marcus. Convinced she has tricked Alex into thinking she's actually Mrs. Marcus Colby, she avoids him to protect him from the leopard she changes into every night.

Alex knows the truth about Magnolia's non-existent marriage. He watches her every movement, wondering if she's the beast he's been sent to capture to stop the murders in the UK...and dreading the idea that she may be. In an attempt to learn the truth about her, he tempts her with his heat and desire, but loses himself as well.

When the final confrontation with the murderer occurs, who will win? Will Magnolia be able to save herself and Alex from the monster?

Book Trailer

Excerpt

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2010-02-12T22:52:00.000-08:00

Genre: IR Erotic Romance

Blurb:

Let the good times roll during the wildest party of the year in the hottest city. New Orleans is known for its jazz and blues, food and good times, now experience the hot steamy love that blossoms during the best festival there ever was. Four steamy tales hotter than Tabasco, more satisfying than a steamy bowl of gumbo with jambalaya on the side that are guaranteed to keep you toasty. Ca c'est bon!

Excerpts:

A Night In Heaven by Reana Malori

When she saw him, her voice deserted her and her throat closed. Holy Hell! Mr. Grant Reed was absolutely stunning. While that isn’t usually a word she used to describe men, in his case, it was completely accurate. His hair was a dirty blond and was just long enough that a lock fell over his right eye. Not in a pre-styled fashion, but in a more carefree, relaxed way, as if he had ran his fingers through it several times that night. He wasn’t overly muscular, but she could see the definition in his arms and shoulders. Since he was hunched over a bit, she couldn’t tell if his entire body looked as good as his arms, but she didn’t think only part of him could be this sexy. He had to be the whole package. She realized she must have been staring at him a bit too long when his mouth curled in a sardonic grin and his white teeth gleamed in the night.

Mardi Gras Encounter by Laura Guevara

They pulled apart momentarily when the music ended. The notes of a trumpet begin soon after. It was quickly joined by a bass guitar and drums. The new melody roused something inside Nina. The notes were hard, seductive, and wanton. She tuned everyone else out and let her body move to the pulse of the music. All her concentration was solely on them. Jason remained still as her body undulated against him. Any and all reservations slipped away as the soulful tunes filled her body, her hips moving like a belly dancer’s. She lost all sense of time until Jason crushed her to him. Both of his large arms wrapped around her waist in a tight embrace. Wide-eyed, Nina tilted her head back. Her hazel eyes met his blue stare. The passion in his eyes dared her to give them what they both wanted. Nina struggled for breath. Unaware of how to let him know she had accepted his challenge.

An Open Melody by RaeLynn Blue

He stopped a few feet from her and said, “What’s that marvelous tune you’re playing?” Silence rang out at his words, or so it seemed to her. She hadn’t heard anything, but him.

“I, I, it’s something I made up,” she whispered and her throat worked to swallow, but
nothing came. He smelled divine, like amber and woods, fresh cut oak and that other thing she couldn’t quite place. “It doesn’t have a title or anything.”

Inside, she cringed at how utterly silly she sounded. The way her body reacted, she was shocked she could’ve kept her control. Hell, she was damn proud she spoke words at all and not just kissed his mouth and humped his leg.

He released a sarcastic half laugh, like he heard her thoughts.

“Sometimes words aren’t needed,” he said, and the flash of heat and longing shot out at her. So tangible she could reach out and make love to it, his intention smoldered. His hunger coated her and it sparked a fear inside her. She stumbled back, but bumped against the wall of Jojo’s. Her clit beat harder and the moisture saturating her panties forced her to speak

Perfect Harmony by Shara Azod

His gaze wouldn’t let hers go. It was as if he was singing to her. Hell, he was singing to
her. She didn’t look away, almost forgot to breathe until the very last cord of the song drifted away on the night breeze. Her chest hurt from her heart beating so hard. Was it just the most intense flirtation she had ever experienced in her life, or was this guy serious? Man, she prayed he was serious. She really, really wanted to forget about all her self-governing rules and regulations and let it go. She just knew this would be a night she never ever forgot.

He didn’t even take his gaze away as he handed the big guy on stage his guitar before
moving back towards the table. His body moved with a grace she’d never noticed before in a man, yet he was undeniably, totally all male. Harmony found herself squirming just watching him walk to her. Damn, damn, damn that was one sexy man.

“I was going to join you all for dinner but I find I am a just a little selfish.” His voice
seemed to be deeper than before. He was talking to all of them, though he was never looked away from her. “Would you ladies mind terribly if I stole Miss Harmony away from you for the evening?”

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2010-02-10T19:56:00.000-08:00

Genre: IR Contemporary Romance

Blurb:

Harlow Shelton is living her dream of being able to go back to college and get her degree. When Luke Hudson comes into her life, she doesn't expect a second chance at love. Heaven in His Arms by RaeLynn Blue brings together two unlikely lovers who realize love is more than skin deep.

Simone Harlow's futuristic world in Queen Captures King is set in an world gone wrong. As a child, Princess Marjani Kato lost her heart to political prisoner Dax Merrik. Fifteen years later, faced with an unwanted marriage for political gain, Marjani sets out on a quest to find Dax and reclaim him as her King.

Excerpt from Heaven in His Arms (formerly Harlow's Heaven):

Harlow titled her head sideways and prepared to give the young man the adult tone he sorely needed, but caught herself at the rich ocher of his eyes—brown hardly covered it. Ocher—deep and vibrant streaked met hers. They peeked through a curtain of long raven strands.

Oh, nice ones.

“Ma’am,” the youngster smirked with a shrug. “What would you like?”

You on a platter covered with loads of sweet, strawberry jelly.

Harlow flinched as the coarse words zipped across her mind, long before she could snag them back. Thankfully, they hadn’t escaped her lips and crafted a seriously embarrassing moment.

Instead she released a steadying breath and said, “One small mocha caramel coffee.”

The male’s eyes met hers and the smirk stretched—netting the distance from ear to ear. His eyes clicked and Harlow’s breath whoosed out at the sheer, raw intensity nestled in those brillant orbs.

“That’ll be $3. 97,” the clerk with the cute face and sizzling eyes said.

Get over yourself. He’s a baby and you’re well old enough to know better. He ain’t interested in some overweight, thirty-four year old single mom. Yeah, that’s what every college cuties is searching for.

She passed him the five dollar bill—her last, with a mixture of regret and sadness. Whether it was for the fact the clerk was way out of her league, or whether the sadness welled up because it was her last five dollars, Harlow didn’t quite know.

The cutie clerk dropped the dollar and change into her hand with complete apathy. Risking another glance, Harlow noted how his eyes eagerly sought out the person behind her. If only she had those tightly coiled bodies on the commercials, he would find her more appealing. Before she’d cleared the counter, he asked the waiting customer what he could do for her.

See, he ain’t interested in me. What am I thinking? Sure, a lonely woman longs for lots of things, but a clerk at a coffee shop the age of my nephew shouldn’t be it. She glanced again out of the corner of her eye at the raven-haired clerk. He casually leaned against the register and his fingers flew over the keyboard with speed and habitual knowledge. He’s only being polite the way all clerks at coffee joints are supposed to be. Probably had one too many espressos anyway.

“Small mocha caramel. Ready!” shouted another coffee clerk from beneath the PICK UP HERE sign. The squeaky clean blonde’s ponytail bounced as she had already turned away from the counter, leaving the cardboard cup alone.

Damn, I can’t even get you to hand me the freakin’ cup I paid for.

The rush gone for the moment, the coffee booth seemed to relax as did its three-person staff. The cutie clerk leaned over the counter, forearms casually crossed over each other. Fingers from one hand drummed in absolute boredom and the other remained flat against the countertop. He stared off into the opened, circular university center. Scores of students went about their business, locked in their own worlds by their mp3 players and cell phones.

But Harlow’s honey-brown eyes greedily devoured only one student, and yet when she’d gotten her eyeful of him, somehow she craved him even more. Her curiosity and attraction hadn’t been fulfilled. Instead she caught herself staring rudely at him.

Lord have mercy! I’m going to hell for these thoughts. She peeked at the cutie clerk again. Her coffee cup drained, her libido filled, Harlow’s nipples tightened against the cotton of her bra. I’ve got to get out more. I’m so damn starved for affection that I’m ready to lap up the coffee clerk. Goodness!

The pleasurable ripples wafting from the squeezing of her thighs under the table didn’t care the clerk looked about twenty, didn’t mind he wasn’t black, and didn’t at all take offense to the flashes of fantasy taking refuge in her brain. Not one bit.

As the clerk stretched, elongating his lean hard body, Harlow had to admit, desperate or not, he was hellafine.

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Daywalker by Charisma Knight

2010-02-07T16:38:00.000-08:00

Genre: IR Paranormal Erotic Romance

Blurb:

Plagued by dreams of a bloodthirsty vampire, Egyptian daywalker Akaisha soon discovers the man to be as real as her father, the Pharaoh. Abducted from her home in the dark of night; Akaisha discovers she must quickly adapt to her new surroundings or suffer her demise.

Realizing the necessity of obtaining a special daywalker to protect his coven, Lord Daegan travels to ancient Egypt with the assistance of his magus, claiming Akaisha for his own.

When in proximity of Daegan, Akaisha causes him to develop emotions, eventually melting away years of darkness. With every meeting, Daegan senses a familiar presence the Egyptian daywalker exudes.

Forty years of deception lie within the walls of Castle Daegan. With Akaisha’s help, Daegan discovers valuable information, reopening unsavory wounds deep within.

Excerpt:

Below Castle Daegan, within one of the deepest tunnels known only to male elders, Valaris, Daegan, and Komin held a meeting. Werewolves who were entrusted to guard vampires of other covens during the day mercilessly slayed them as they slept.

"It is an outrage!" Daegan stormed. "I want those beasts destroyed; even those that guard our castle. We do not need their protection any longer. I should have killed them long ago."

"You will not put the werewolves here at Castle Daegan to death!" Komin bellowed. "Have you not forgotten Michael and his family? They have never meant you harm, and have served us well for many centuries."

Hanging his head low, Daegan knew Komin spoke the truth. Michael and his family befriended Biele and Daegan long ago. The werewolf was loyal, and would fight by Daegan's side if necessary, even against fellow werewolves existing outside Castle Daegan.

"Daegan, listen to me," Valaris growled. "Have you not forgotten the very subject that fueled these revolts? Had you not taken a werewolf for a bride, we would not be in this position."

"To whom do you think you are speaking, Valaris?" Daegan stood, ready to do battle with his own brother. Komin intervened between the two larger vampires. "What the hell difference does that make? Against my better judgment, I tried sending her away, Valaris. Why the hell are we discussing something that happened forty years ago? I never avenged her death. The fiend who killed her, I cannot find!"

"Some people label you a fiend, Daegan," Komin uttered quietly.

"Do not vex me, Komin," Daegan snarled. "Or else…"

"Or else what Daegan? You think you are in control, but you aren't. Something far more powerful dwells within these walls. Have you been able to locate your magus, or has he suddenly turned against us as well?"

"Some say you killed Biele, Daegan," Valaris stated coolly, raising a brow tohis brother. Daegan charged Valaris, knocking him against the wall of the tunnel, biting his brother's shoulder, allowing blood to spill everywhere.

"Never mention Biele's name again, Valaris, or I promise, the next time, my bite will rip your throat out!" Daegan hissed venomously.

"Gentlemen, I assure you, it will do no good to battle amongst ourselves. Daegan, this matter must be handled quickly. You know exactly what fueled thefire for the recent happenings."

Eyes glowing red, Daegan turned, punching the wall, shattering two large bricks."Utter treachery lurks within these castle walls!" Daegan hissed. "I can feel it! Someone plots against me!"

Valaris sat up, eyes fixated on Daegan, spewing hatred for his brother.

"Perhaps I should have let you embrace the dawn, brother. You are leading this coven into damnation. You lacked leadership years ago, and even more so now."

"Cool your tongue, Valaris!" Komin demanded. "Leave us now."

Eyes glowing, Valaris turned on his heel, exiting the small room, returning tothe entrance of the tunnel.

"There is no doubt there are traitors within these walls, Daegan," Komin said calmly. "The act that was committed forty years ago simply added more fuel tothe fire."

"Daegan, you have the acquired the daywalker, Akaisha. I suggest you use her wisely. The wolves outside of Castle Daegan are not to be trusted, I can tell you this much." Komin insisted. "Where is your magus?"

"I don't know, Komin! It is like he disappeared into thin air, along with the black crystal we used to bring forth Akaisha to our time! Komin, I did not kill Biele. I loved her too much. She was my life!"

"I understand that, Daegan, but tongues have began to wag. Suspicion arose long ago, and even more so now, since werewolves have started to revolt," Komin calmly confessed. "Old ghosts have been invoked."

"Why now, after all these years?" Daegan asked.

"I've asked myself that for quite some time, Daegan," Komin murmured softly, crossing his arms. "You are feared, perhaps by the wrong side. I suggest you find your magus, or someone who possesses the gift of foresight."

Leaving the tunnel together, Komin and Daegan discussed other endless possibilities regarding the revolts. Business dealings could have fallen through; perhaps one of the female vampires had it in for Daegan, for not taking them as his bride. Try as he may, Daegan could not find a rational solution tothis problem.

Once in the privacy of his bedchambers, he paced the floors. Since coming into contact with Akaisha, he experienced a familiar presence. He actually experienced happiness for the first time in years. Just thinking of the wench made his lips curl into a smile.
Cursing himself, he forced the similarities out of his mind. Akaisha was onlythere to aid his coven and sate his large sexual appetite, but damn her, she was placing other thoughts within his head. A part of him wanted to hold and protect her, for her to hold and protect him from the madness that surrounded him.

Sensing dawn approaching, Daegan locked his chamber doors, submitting to a deep vampiric sleep. Immediately, he began to dream.

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Soul Seduction by Charisma Knight

2010-02-07T16:26:00.000-08:00

To be Released March 19

Genre: IR Paranormal Erotic Romance

Blurb:

Patience is a virtue—especially if you’re waiting for your soul mate’s rebirth.

Vampire Angelus Cronen loved, lusted for and inevitably lost his true soul mate over two centuries ago. She was the beautiful slave, Vivienne, who set his body on fire and branded her name on his soul. He was told to have patience during the long years that separated him from her resurrection. His lust only grew to have her in his arms again. His dark soul's deepest desire was to bring her spirit once more under his control.

First he has to conquer the dark side of his spirit, the beast within who can and will destroy his soul mate with the least provocation.

Seduction can lead him to a love meant to last an eternity or cause him to murder her.

Excerpt:

Shifting uncomfortably in the lawn chair, his mind drifted to the time when he had taken over his parents’ antique business. Then his brother Aidan was to be his partner. However, it was Bartholomew, Vivienne’s uncle who had aided Angelus in maintaining the business. He entrusted Bartholomew with his life, including his dark transition. The old memories made him feel as though they took place only yesterday. Inhaling deeply, he sensed a domestic dispute between lovers flow to him on the crisp autumn wind. In the woods off the Severn River shores, he felt the agonizing pain of a stray cat, hit by a car just moments ago. Tuning everything out, Angelus sought to clear his mind until explicit images of Vivienne and her client invaded his thoughts again.

Growling, his eyes shone a deep red and his fist smashed onto the glass table, shattering it. God, how he wished he could end it all at this very moment.

What the hell did she think she was doing? If he could travel back to the condominium, he would kill them both for sure. More memories of the past returned, flooding his tortured mind.

He recalled that fateful night, when he’d awakened from his shallow grave. The estate, left in total disarray, was abandoned, with the exception of bones sporadically littering Cronen Estate. A strong feeling of helplessness engulfed him as his mind fought hard to recall the fate laid on his shoulders. It had been years since he departed the estate for the hunting trip. Damn near an eternity had passed before she’d been reborn. It wasn’t until her birth, thirty-eight years ago when he had discovered her intimately familiar soul. He silently watched her from the shadows on and off for years, desperately holding on to the belief their strong connection forged in Louisiana would be resurrected in the present. The wait was long and unbearable for Angelus, as it was forbidden for him to approach her, until now; a hefty price for him to pay for becoming weak and indulging in flesh and blood centuries ago, almost costing him his very soul. He was given another chance.

"I curse you fate. Vile trickster that you are," he seethed softly. Nothing, not even the dark predator residing in his soul could stop the painful images of her clients having their way with her. “Vivienne.” Images from his past replayed within the tortured walls of his mind.

* * * * *

“But I’m twenty years her senior Bartholomew, the same age as you.” Angelus stated, running his hand through his jet black hair. “Do you know how many men I’ve had to chase away from that chit over the years?” Bartholomew returned with a laugh. “Those others were interested in her for one reason. It’s different for you and she, and I give you my blessings. I know she’s safe with you.” Bartholomew confessed. “You are meant to be together.”

“What do you mean Bartholomew?” Angelus asked.

“Vivienne is your soul mate, the one you are destined to be with for all eternity,” the man said as he gathered his belongings from under the willow tree. “It’s about time you approach her.” “Bartholomew, have you been dabbling in witchcraft again?” Angelus raised a brow, knowing the man came from a strong line of witches. “I know what I see in my visions Angelus, and I take them seriously,” Bartholomew told him, as the two walked into the house.

* * * * *

Feeling as though a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders, Angelus watched her for the remainder of the day. Once the moon rose, he broached the subject with Vivienne. She was cleaning his bedchamber when he quietly strolled in. His throat became dry, and he ran a hand nervously through his hair. Why had he waited so long to approach her? He wondered.

“Master,” she said in a low, seductive voice. Her gaze fell to the floor.

“Call me Angelus, Vivienne,” he said, slowly approaching the object of his desire. “How many times have I asked you not to call me master? You are on the same level as I. Other than our skin color, there is no difference. We both have needs, and desires.” Angelus’ voice turned husky.

“Maybe I like to call you master,” Vivienne said boldly, convincing Angelus she wasn’t as innocent as he’d suspected. He couldn’t help but notice her breathing became labored as his stare became trained on the rise and fall of her chest.

Gently, taking his index finger and tilting her head to look at him, a warm smile formed upon his lips. On this night, he would have her. How he craved her beautiful bronzed skin and tantalizing thighs wrapped around his waist. His sweet dark angel drove him crazy. Sitting in the chair, next to the bed, he pulled her onto his lap.

Her five-foot six-inch frame and voluptuous build rendered him breathless whenever he fantasized about her. Her tantalizing brown eyes set against the rich dark brown skin and her thick, curly black hair, seductively framing her bewitching features and falling well past her shoulders, was enough to make him hard as steel.

He wanted to slap himself silly for not approaching her sooner, for thinking Bartholomew would have a problem with the coupling. Suddenly he realized, she wanted this moment as much as he did. “Vivienne, I must have a word with you,” Angelus said, becoming lost within her eyes. He loved how she observed every inch of him, her appreciative gaze sparking a yearning deep within his soul.

“Talk to me Angelus, I’m listening,” Vivienne murmured, her gaze locking with his. She approached him, running her fingers through his hair.

“Why have you avoided me all these years?” Angelus asked.

“I might ask the same of you Angelus,” Vivienne challenged. “Surely you knew I wanted to be with you,” he murmured, his heart skipping a beat. Her skin was smooth, like silk, he noticed as he gently grabbed her hand. Pulling her close to him, Angelus studied her face. There was more than lust shining in her dark features. It was her gaze that held him in rapt attention. The eyes were the windows to the soul, and her soul was telling him she loved him. Boldly, she sat on his lap, completely shedding that aura of shyness he so loved about her.

To Be Released March 19th through: http://www.eirelander-publishing.com/

The Beast Within by Charisma Knight

2010-02-07T16:08:00.000-08:00

Genre: IR Paranormal Erotic Romance

Blurb:

Ever wonder what you would do if you crossed paths with a vampire? Would he be that sweet gentleman, sweeping you off your feet without a moment's notice, or would he be the epitome of evil, the devil incarnate? Do you think you could easily bed him for one night only, and leave, unscathed? Perhaps so, but what do you do when he repeatedly seeks you out, contemplating dark plans for the future. What would you do once realizing beneath that handsome facade lurks an evil, menacing dark force?

Beautiful, and promiscuous Diana Carrington prowls the club scene with her female posse in search of male companionship. Physically drawn to the debonair vampire Julian Grey, Diana ultimately falls for him.Their sexual attraction to one another blossoms into a full blown relationship, but Diana suddenly realizes she's in over her head with the vampire who harbors a dark secret, and a demon that may very well lead to her demise.

Excerpt:

‘TGIF,’ was all Diana Carrington could think of as she made a beeline for the nearest exit of her office. The crisp November breeze greeted her, causing her nipples to swell, as she walked across the parking lot to her jeep. It was playtime now. Whisking out her cell phone as she proceeded to dash out of the parking lot, she called her best friend, Charlene.

Envious upon hearing music to TekNoir, Diana chastised her friend for not waiting for her. “I told you I’d be leaving work at five o’clock, Charlene. Quarter End is approaching and I need to crunch these numbers for that she-bitch boss of mine.” Diana laughed.

“Aw, come on Diana, don’t be pissed. You should have taken the day off like I did. I’m on a mission girl, tonight, I’m getting laid,” Charlene said.

“Alright, order me a drink. I’m only twenty minutes away.”

“I gotcha, babe,” Charlene said before hanging up.

Tonight was going to be great. Last weekend had almost proved dangerous. Remembering the brief sexual encounter with Julian Grey made her slick with want. The man rendered her powerless, leaving her aching for another encounter, hopefully longer than the last. Dark and brooding, he had approached her after closely studying her with lust-filled eyes for fifteen minutes. There was something magnetizing about those icy blue eyes of his, something she could not explain. Clearly remembering how his eyes seemed to control her and penetrated her soul caused her slit to moisten and the hair on the back of her neck to stand at attention as she drove. Clamping her thighs together, she prayed he would be there tonight. She’d greet him with open thighs.

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Her Dark Desires by Charisma Knight

2010-02-07T15:21:00.000-08:00

Genre: IR Paranormal Erotic Romance

Blurb:

Dremon, a five hundred year old tall, dark, and brooding vampire has been alone far too long. From the moment he laid eyes upon Anais, he read her like an open book. Swearing an oath to claim the sensual goddess, Dremon suddenly realizes she is what he has searched for his entire existence. Her exquisite looks, strong will, and fiery passion intrigues and seduces him all in one breath.
Two different beings from two entirely different worlds quickly discover they have an insatiable thirst of forbidden carnal desires. Together, they delve into the depths of the darkest parts of their souls, discovering they can never truly sate the untamed fire down below.

Excerpt:

"I love your fiery spirit," Dremon mused, knowing he would piss her off further. "Stop toying with me, and tell me where the fuck I am, you bastard!" Dremon was becoming highly aroused as he fed off her emotions. "Hmmm," he replied. "I will need to chastise that tongue of yours. You naughty little wench, are you trying to get me going?" The bulge in his pants grew along with his need for her. "You're in my homeland of East Ayrshire, Scotland, my dark jewel." "Scotland?" Anais belted out in disbelief. "What the fuck!" "You have such a delicious vocabulary, wench. Why worry all of a sudden? You have wanted to go to a place far from home, have you not? Dremon asked, his jaw tightening. "Obviously, you can read thoughts," Anais snapped. "Naturally, everyone desires to take a vacation, do things they've never done—" "Be something they've never been," Dremon rudely interrupted. "Do things they would never acknowledge, give in to their darkest desires." His face twisted into a dark, mischievous grin. "Why is it that you humans fight desires that dwell within the deepest parts of your psyche? You know they exist, however, it is forbidden to act upon them.""I wish you'd stay the hell out of my mind, Dremon! Anais sneered, walking from within his reach, making her way back to the entrance of the house."Don't even think of escaping, Anais." Dremon's eyes burned with warning. "There is nowhere for you to run, nowhere you can hide, beautiful." His words struck a chord deep within her. She wanted to challenge this awesome creature. Placing her hands on her hips, and cocking her head, Anais asked, "And what if I were to run, Dremon? What are you going to do to me? You can't hold me here." "You would dare run from me?" he asked, licking his lips. "I'd hunt you like an animal." His breathing intensified as he approached her once again, backing her into a corner of the wall. "Once I caught you, I'd fuck you like an animal, without mercy, wench!" Dremon's nostrils flared, his eyes filling with lust. "Don't you want to fuck a vampire?" he mused, pressing his hard body against her. "Mmmm, you feel so good." Dremon fought hard to restrain himself. A moan escaped Anais' lips as he cupped her face in both of his large hands, forcing her to look up at him. Her heart thudded hard against her ribcage, and sweat formed upon her brow, her slit becoming increasingly wetter with each passing moment. A vampire, no wonder I'm so deeply attracted to him. "Are you controlling me?" she inquired. "My sweet, whatever it is you are feeling, it's all you. I have no desire to make you want me. What would the point be to that?" Dremon pointed out, putting his hands on either side of her body, showing his dominance. "What now?" she asked huskily, pushing her hips forward, enjoying the hardness of his body. She looked him in the eye briefly before averting her glance to the sitting room. The air around them appeared to crackle with electricity. "Never avert your gaze from me, wench." Dremon turned her face towards his gaze once more. "Also, I believe you know the answer to your question," Dremon purred. "Don't make me voice your desires for you. You must tell me what you want, as I am already aware of your desires, Anais. You cannot deny that which you feel!" he hissed, incisors lengthening..Dremon's hands caressed her breasts through her silk blouse. Anais exhaled sharply as her nipples stood erect at Dremon's gaze. Wasting no time, he squeezed and rolled the perky nipples beneath his fingers, through the silken fabric. "Tell me, Anais, what have you been longing for the most?" Dremon whispered into her ear, his hot breath stinging her flesh. Squeezing her nipples harder, his cock twitched as Anais hissed in pained pleasure, squirming before him. She licked her lips in anticipation of what he would do to her. "Ummm" was all she could muster, allowing the creature to read her thoughts. Anais gyrated her hips as Dremon raised her arms above her head, eventually grasping both her wrists in his large left hand, his right hand, slowly drifting to her knee length black skirt, commencing to pull it up. Dremon growled, feeling the intense heat of her sex. Slowly, the vampire slid his hand up her leg, leaving a trail of fire against Anais' flesh. Anais' entire body felt as though some unknown force was invading her, devouring her. She could feel the building sensation of her release as Dremon teased her pussy lips through her black lace panties. She observed how the dark creature studied her, piercing her soul with his gaze. His eyes spoke to her, glowed an iridescent gold in the dim light he conjured earlier. Closing her eyes, Anais arched her back, until Dremon demanded her to re-open them. "I told you to never avert your gaze—that means never to close your eyes. Disobey me again, wench, and I will deal with you in a most harsh manner!" Fear and excitement sliced through her body at Dremon's words, the way he spoke with such ferocity and the dark look he held within his eyes. She wanted to disobey, and obey him all at once. Dremon's jaw tightened as he slid a finger underneath the delicate lace panties, damp with her juices. His left hand still held her arms above her head, while the fingers of his right hand slid in between her soaked pussy lips, slowly assaulting her clitoris. A low growl escaped Dremon's lips as her liquid heat covered his fingers and observed how hard she fought to keep from closing her eyes. Dremon fed entirely off her desires now. His type of vampire not only required blood and sex, but raw, human emotion, be it lust, love, hatred, or fear. Anais' lips parted slightly as Dremon bent down to kiss her. Roughly, he slipped his tongue in between her lips, assaulting her tongue, sucking, and nipping. Simultaneously, he fingered her creamy slit, eventually sliding not one, not two, but three fingers deep inside her. Spreading her legs, Anais moaned loudly as the tension built in the pit of her stomach, forcing her to the brink of climax, summoning growls of approval from Dremon. Withdrawing his fingers, he pinched her clit hard, nostrils flaring as he watched Anais roll her head from side to side. "What do you want, Anais?" he agitated...

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Thelma's Eatery by RaeLynn Blue

2010-02-06T17:36:00.000-08:00

GENRE: Multicultural Erotic Romance

BLURB:
Located in the downtown section of Atlanta, Thelma's Eatery is known for cooking up soul food so good the regulars keep comin' back for more. But for waitresses, Kim, Rae and Shauna, the real excitement isn't in the daily specials, but in the kitchen where sex is just as good as warm sweet potato pie. When Shauna's mother sends in a handsome accountant to check over the books, the heat in the kitchen burns up and spills out forever changing their lives...

EXCERPT:
Unwrapping himself from his weather gear, Jose performed a slow, steady strip tease. He unzipped a black rain slicker, and slowly removed his arms from the sleeves. Second, he lifted off the boxy brown hat, and eased it down to the floor. Finally, he pulled off the gloves; finger by finger, then removed the entire glove. He repeated the actions with the other hand.
"Girl, you've got to see this!" Rae whispered excitedly. Her wide mouth was spread into an open grin. Wolfishly, she licked her lips and pressed herself closer against the wall. Crouched down, her left eye strained against the small hole in the wall. She resembled a very naughty peeping Jane. "Get over here!" Shauna giggled and quickly clamped her hand over her mouth to suppress the infectious noise. Without hesitation, she tucked a stray hair behind her ear and squatted down beside the sink. She touched Rae gently on the knee and asked, "Where?" "He's right there," Rae whispered back with urgency as she crawled backward to allow Shauna room to enter. "See, he just took off his raincoat!" "Oh, well, now," Shauna breathed, "that's what's under that nasty bus boy uniform…" Rae stood up, fluffed her corkscrew circles and stretched her back. "Yummy, isn't it?" With his back to the wall, Jose faced his narrow locker in the back of Thelma's Eatery. He lifted his black cable-knit sweater and slid it up his slightly muscular back and over his head. "Ah, he's just taken off his sweater," Shauna announced dreamily. "You missed it, Rae." "What!" Rae raced back to the spot just under the sink and knocked Shauna backward into the sink's grimy, exposed pipes. "Where?" Rubbing the injured spot on her head, Shauna ignored her. Like a nimble cat, she climbed out from underneath the sink and brushed off the cobwebs and dust. She crawled over to Rae's left side, careful not to disturb the scene. "Damn. But I didn't miss him taking off…" Rae fell silent.

PURCHASE

Website, http://www.raelynnblue.com/One of the BADAZZ AUTHORS, http://badazzauthors.com/shararaelynn/The Color of Love, http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/thecoloroflove

2010-01-31T16:10:00.000-08:00

Genre: IR/Multicultural Erotic

Blurb:

What could to be better for the holidays for two best friends that are the only family each other has? How about Marine brothers. Lexi and Audrey have been friends forever. As professional adults they are taking the world by storm. But each one dreams of meeting their very own alpha military man, and building the family they lacked growing up.
Stone and Ram are two very alpha, very strong, very sexy brothers who look so much alike it’s hard to believe they aren’t twins.

A Christmas Marine (Excerpt) by Laura Guevara:

“Benvenuto!” Alston gave the young woman his name. She crossed it off the list.

“Your table is ready. Please, follow me.” The hostess led them to a booth located in the back of the restaurant, granting them plenty of privacy.

Perfect.

Alston waited until Audrey scooted into the booth before he followed her in. His thigh rested against her much smaller one, their hips pressed together. He wanted to be as close as possible to her as he could. Alston leaned closer to her. Her soft flowery perfume floated to his nostrils. His already rock hard cock strained against the material of his pants.

When the waiter came, Alston ordered a bottle of red wine for them. Next to him Audrey studied the menu. He moved his hand to rest on her thigh, over the material of her dress. Startled she looked up to him. Alston just smiled and looked down at his own menu. Then, his fingers began to trace small circles on her thigh. He heard her soft gasp of surprise.

By the time the waiter returned with the wine, Alston’s hand rested at the apex of her thighs. He could feel her heat through the material of her dress and panties. He aimed to find out what she wore underneath before the main course was served. He wouldn’t be able to wait. He could see how she tried to remain still and nonchalant as the waiter took their order.

Once he was out of earshot Alston lowered his mouth to her ear. “Give me your panties.”

“What?”

“Your panties, I want to hold them in my hand. Take them off.”

A Marine for New Year's (Excerpt) by Drea Riley:

“So darling when do you want to get hitched?” Ram couldn’t help but provoke her.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how soon you can get a physical. I want to make sure that you’re 100 percent for the honeymoon. I plan to keep you naked and in bed the whole time.”

Ram was a second away from throwing her over his shoulder and to the nearest bed. Hell, a small room was all he needed. She went back to finishing her burger all nonchalant. In front of them Audrey was choking on her drink, and Alston was staring at them, his eyes warning him the hell away. But after that last tidbit, Ram was not going anywhere but to her place. As soon he talked to his brother, he was going to find his way between Lexi’s thighs.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off darling? We can get started on the honeymoon.”

She laughed at him.

“Sorry, stud I have to go back to work. Besides, it looks like you and Alston need to talk.”

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He stole a couple of fries from her plate as they resumed eating. “Yeah, business first. I’ll have your ring for you after work. Just remember that after you get off, I’m going to get you off.” He winked at her and watched the flash of heat rise under her creamy chocolate skin. He’d see how much of her luscious body that blush covered later on.

After they were done eating, Ram followed them outside to their car. Lexi walked beside him, while Alston and Audrey walked ahead of them.

“Why do they call you Ram? What’s your name anyway? Alston never really said. I mean when he said he had a brother Audrey and I both just thought he was talking about one of his Marine cronies. And he always has his tongue shoved down Audrey’s throat so I couldn’t ask him. Lord knows I’ve tried.”

“Tristram.”

He almost smiled when she tried it. “Tristram.” He much preferred Ram but hearing her say his full name would be refreshing.

“What about after work?”

“What about it?”

She was being coy now?

“What time do you get off? I’ll pick you up and take you home. Then you can show me your bedroom.”

“What makes you think we would make it all the way to my bed?”

Ram couldn’t help the growl that escaped at her words. The little saucy wench was treading on thin ice. His nickname wasn’t the Battling Ram for nothing. Coming to a stop, he waited until she faced him.

“Make sure this is what you want Lexi.” Ram warned her. He gave her an out if she so wanted it.

“I get off at 6:00 pm. You need to be there at a quarter till. Don’t be late. I hate waiting.”

Ram watched as she got in to the passenger side of the SUV. He stood back as Alston kissed Audrey and said something to them. Probably warning Lexi off. He couldn’t blame him. If the roles were reversed he would do the same.

(Blurb) Resolutions by Shara Azod:

Rayna was tired of being the good girl. Just once she longs to experience wild passion if only for one night. Confessing her darkest desires to her best friend Delilah, she never imagined she would be overheard by a man ready and willing to give her everything she desires, and then some.

Kord couldn’t quite believe his ears. How was it possible that a woman that sexy had never been loved properly? There was no way he was letting her throw herself to the wolves. If it was loving she needed, he was just the Marine for the job.

Excerpt:

Before he could move, her boot started to ring. It took a minute for him to realize that’s where she had her cell. Of course, she didn’t have a purse or a jacket on her. Where else would she put it?

Seeing her fumble to try to fish it out, Kord deftly removed the footwear, allowing the phone to tumble out. He had forgotten all about calling her friend. He moved to remove the other so she could be more comfortable and waited while she started her conversation.

“Um, no,” she was saying. “I’m actually still here, at the party. I’m just, um…”

“Tell her you’re busy,” he whispered, sliding up beside her, kissing her neck. He seemed to be addicted to the soft, flowery scented skin.

“I’m busy.”

Kord smiled against her skin. “Tell her you have a ride home.”

“I have a ride home. You can just leave my purse and coat, uh…” She looked over her shoulder at him with the question clear in her eyes.

His dick jumped, going from merely hard to raging with that one look. She was starting to trust him. At least this far. “Tell her to have Mitch give them to Captain MacQuire.” Shannon would either place them in a safe place or bring them up here. Either way, this would mean she was staying for at least the night. Plus, it would force Delilah to at least talk to the man who’d been after her behind for longer than either of them would care to admit.

“Give them to Captain MacQuire.” Kord could hear the screech in response loud and clear. It was time for Rayna to end her phone call.

“You have to go now, sugar,” he whispered softly in her ear, nipping it before he slid off the bed and into the bathroom. He was gone for less than a minute, rolling another condom on as he strode back into the room.

Rayna was off the phone, her bra had been removed, and though she had gotten between the sheets, she didn’t demur or look away as he approached her. Her eyes reflected all the desire he felt, her lips slightly parted as if waiting for his kiss. He didn’t hesitate to give her just that. He took her mouth until she was breathless and panting, the way he was beginning to enjoy seeing her.

“Turn around for me, baby. Get on your knees.”

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A Rebel Among Goddesses by RaeLynn Blue Coming 1/18/10 to Phaze

2010-01-16T18:08:00.000-08:00

Genre: Interracial Fantasy Erotic Romance (MMF & MM)

Blurb:

Rebellious crown prince, Errol has committed the biggest sin, he's fallen in love with a male. As the son of a great goddess, Errol’s love affair with Simon has violated the social order—females rule and men must worship and love them and them alone. A childhood friend, Shar has three days to save the love of her life, Errol, from certain death. When Errol and Simon approach Shar with a way to do that, she must rebel against her clan, her brother, and her entire way of life. Will she be willing to do the unthinkable and embrace this love at all costs?

R Rated Excerpt:

Marching from the increasingly hot room, Errol took a left, heading for the two double doors which spilled out into heart of the island’s temples. Aroha’s residence squatted behind the temple of her mother, Lali. The circle of goddesses formed the assembly. They managed to keep all the temples in pretty much the same décor, with slight variations for the respective goddess.

“You don’t seem like a man with three days to live,” called a voice out of the growing dark. “Especially if you’re coming out of there.”

The voice conjured a grand pendulum of pleasure and pain. It twisted Errol’s conscious, and he searched around the plaza for witnesses or worse, priestesses out for a frosty night stroll.

Simon.

Instantly Errol’s heart rushed up to his throat and he slowed down. They shouldn’t be together or seen in each other’s presence per the death decree, but with the Silver Solstice so close and his impending death the evening’s highlight event, they were throwing caution to the wind.

Sure as the sun shone but gave no warmth, Errol spied Simon approach from behind the inky gloom of the goddesses’ fountain. A cold mist hung over the cobblestone plaza. Luminaries offered small spattering of light, which showed Simon dressed in his favorite inky black cloak and coordinating boots. The cloak couldn’t suppress the wide shoulders and sinewy body. Errol allowed his eyes to survey Simon’s determined gait, and effortlessly a grin snuck upon his face. Already his nipples tingled at the sight of Simon’s pink lips which appeared from the hood’s gloominess, and even though he couldn’t see them in the murky evening, he couldn’t wait to see the speckling of freckles across the bridge of Simon’s nose.

Tingles erupted in his base of his belly, hinting and warning him it would drop to tickling his cock until he’d grow too stiff to walk. Errol slowed his hurried pace and growled at the situation. Now, would be a horrid time to engage his lust for Simon.

Or was it? With only three days remaining until his death, he could surely engage all of his passions. Why the hell not? He could go to his death happy and sated.

And it’s this kind of thinking to which I owe the death decree.

Several snowflakes fell from the midnight sky as if sprinkling sugar onto Simon’s clothed chest. Hints of more snow wafted on the air and it tasted of cold. Errol shivered but not from the weather. The wind whistled past with sharp pitch.

“What do you want?” Errol asked, tersely at the fact his body craved Simon’s coarse, but somehow gentle touch. He shoved his hands into his cloak’s pockets and hunched down against the breeze kicking up. “It’s freezing out.”

Goddess, to have my cock in your mouth once more, to feel your tongue lash my member with pure, unrestrained strokes of your soft lips against my balls would be delightful. I’d die smiling so fully the goddesses would be infuriated.

Shaking his head, Errol pinched himself and forced his mind to pay attention, and to leave those thoughts alone.

“Before long you’re going to be very cold indefinitely,” Simon said, unsmiling from beneath his hood. “Show some kindness while you still can.”

His wide green, heavily lidded eyes gave everyone the impression of low intelligence. Something Simon utilized to his benefit at every occurrence. Already a mortal, Simon was often judged harshly. Unrestrained vulnerability made Errol want to protect Simon, and he had. The assembly had charged Errol with seduction of a male, and had ordered him to be put to death. The goddesses didn’t think the child of mortal parents contained enough allure to entice the son of a goddess to his bed. Why? When their isle contained thousands of beautiful, duly trained women?

“Have you thought of what your defense at the assembly will consist of?” Simon asked, his rolling voice sounded daring, tempting. “They granted you an appeal.”

Errol slumped as he began to walk up the slick cobblestone path to his palace—the place he’d called home since he began to speak. Now, in less than three days, at the height of the Silver Solstice, he would be put to death, and his father, the most powerful man on the island was helpless to stop it. He wasn’t powerful enough. None of the men were, really.

“Yes, of course I have,” he snapped at Simon, getting a scowl in return. “I’m not a simpleton. I’ve labored over every angle, and to be frank, I’d just emptied my last stocking of goodies. If I don’t convince one of the nymphs to marry me, then I’m doomed.”

Simon nodded. His face remained a grim, stone. Scattered strands of honey blonde stuck out from beneath his hood and his breath escaped in hurried wisps from his continued sighing.

“I’ve been giving it some thought and reviewing the scrolls in the historic halls of goddesses the better part of the morn. There’s something you can do, but it is complicated.”

Errol’s heart sped up and drummed out his fear in each passing thump, thump, thump.

“The charge was clear as the Lali Springs,” Errol said bitterly, the coldness burrowed beneath his cloak, forcing his ears to throb and his hands to ache. If Simon would put his large hand over his, he’d feel warmer. Asking Simon to do such a thing in public would, of course, forbidden. Habit kept him from asking, despite the death decree. “I’ve got to marry one of the nymphs.”

“No problem there,” Simon replied sarcastically. “They’re all requesting your unique gifts and using up your favors. You’ve got nothing from sleeping with them and none are bold enough to marry the condemned.”

“Yes, yes, and?”

“And I’ve got a plan,” Simon said.

“Not another one of your schemes, Simon. This is my life here.”

Silence. Even Simon’s footfalls had fallen into a quiet.

“Simon?”

Errol halted at the marble stairs of his home. Twisting around, Errol’s weary eyes met his friend’s unsmiling face.

Reaching out from the hood’s shadow, Simon’s seriousness loomed—a ghost against the gloom. He had something up his robe’s sleeve.

“I know it,” Simon said softly, lips barely moving in the falling cold. “You think it hasn’t haunted me since the decree came down from the assembly?”

“I, I…yes,”

Simon’s eyes watered but from the freezing cold or his own worry, Errol didn’t know. Yanking his black hood forward over his sharp features Simon shrugged as if none of it mattered, when his actions screamed his anguish.

“You want to hear it or not? Or are you in a hurry to die?”

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2010-01-09T18:06:00.000-08:00

Genre: Fantasy Adventure

Blurb:

Chavva lied to him. About everything. Mortal Heaven is hardly paradise. Rogar is subject and servant to his creator, the mighty Faerbrarean angel Chavva of Relga. The wretched creature won’t even save the dying soul of his mate, her own child. None of her Clan will help him, either.

After a mythical being attacks Rogar in the woodland of Forfax Gael, he’s introduced to a new clan of omnipotent beings. More powerful than the Faerbrarean. The Guardians of Eternity want Rogar’s services, kept a secret from the angel clan. He’ll do it, gladly. Anything to mutiny against the Faerbrarean and their shoddy care of the universe. If only he could repay them for all the pain and suffering mortals suffer in their hands…

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Purchase: Red Rose Publishing

2010-01-09T08:59:00.000-08:00

Genre: Sizzling Romance

Blurb:

A survivor of childhood abuse, Aubrey Woodhaus worked hard to become a success in her own eyes, turning her inherited homestead into a business selling natural products. At forty seven, she’s sad that her chance for real love has passed because of her bad choices in men and an inability to trust anyone. When she meets sexy, smart Jensen Keets, it’s lust at first sight - despite that he’s fifteen years younger than her. One night, against her better judgment, she takes him as her lover. No harm done, right? It’s just sex.

Jensen is struck by Aubrey’s independence and brains, not to mention her beauty and killer curves. It’s not just sex to him, so he indulges her impressive sensual appetite for him, while he battles through her thick wall of defenses to the devoted and gentle heart he knows is in there.

Read Excerpts (Adult Content)

Purchase at Red Rose Publishing

Interview with Laura Guevera

2010-01-08T01:00:00.000-08:00

http://lauraguevara08.blogspot.com/?zx=2667e8f9128cc483

http://drearileyandlauraguevara.blogspot.com/

drea_riley_and_laura_guevara@yahoogroups.com

What is difference between Laura the author and Laura the woman?
The author is a much more adventurous, daring woman. She does as she pleases, stretching her boundaries. Laura the real me, is much more reserved and shy. Seriously, I am.

You seem to have carved a specific niche with your hot, humorous stories about doms and subs. Where do you see your writing branching out to next?
I am trying to do a paranormal story about jaguars next. I do not have a name yet but it’s coming along. I love dominant men so I think every erotic romance I write will have them. I just can’t seem not to. Also I’m trying my hand at general fiction and short stories. Something that will be completely different from what I’m writing now. There will be no erotic romance or sexy doms but something that will hopefully touch every reader. That project is taking longer to write because I have to do lots of research but I hope to be finished with it next year sometime. I’ve also been thinking about mysteries or thrillers. I have something in mind so as soon as I complete some WIPs; I’m going to start on that project.

What was the best response you received from a fan?
Well, that they had re-read my story several times. That right there is the ultimate compliment to me because I re-read some of my favorite stories all the time. I was over the moon and I think I probably screamed when I read that.

Have you ever read your own story and said, "damn"?
No. LOL! Well I re-read it several times during the editorial process but they are just words not a story. I’m my own worst critic so even when I am editing, during the final run through, I am like why did I write this or I should have done something different. So I try to not re-read my own story after it’s done, it would just drive me crazy.

How has Erotica changed your life?
It has opened up a new world! Writing has given me an opportunity to express myself in a way I never could before. I can write what I’m feeling and help release some stress. Reading does the same thing. I can lose myself in a story and just forget about the rest of the world. Erotica has also given me lots of new sisters and friends. I know that may sound cliché but without erotica I wouldn’t have met all the wonderful Posse members.

Are there any authors you are dying to write with and if so, who?
It’s been a blast writing with Drea. She always keeps me laughing whenever we write together. But I would love to write more with the ladies of the BAA. Writing the tag stories are so much fun and I think we would do pen some great stuff.

How do you keep your ideas fresh and exciting?
My mind is special, for lack of a better word. I sometimes surprise myself after I write a sentence or get an idea. I’m like where did that come from? I get inspired by everything and I write about things that I want to read about. I’m always on the lookout for new ideas and plots. I don’t want to get too comfortable with just one subject. I want to try different things and test my writing muscle.

Hostile Takeover by Eve Vaughn & Shara Azod

2010-01-04T20:03:00.000-08:00

Genre: IR Erotic

Blurb:

The advertising business can be brutal...

But Lydia was the perfect woman to tackle any challenge thrown her way. Having overcome a painful past, she is determined to make a life for herself on her own terms. Her plan to stay focused on her career and lead a life without the taint of love hits a snag in the form of her very determined and equally sexy boss, Ryder.

Success takes perseverance. ..

And Ryder has the drive to make his goals a reality. Having built his advertising firm with nothing but his hard work and fortitude, he's used to getting what he wants. And he wants Lydia. Using the same principles in his business strategy to win her, he fails miserably. Frustrated by Lydia's steadfast refusal to acknowledge the scorching attraction between them, he devises a plan to get her alone: a week long business trip on a tropical island resort where the days are hot and the nights are even steamier.

Ryder knows it will take more than flowers and candy to win Lydia, heart body and soul. She'll need a little push, a dose of persuasion, with a pinch of heady seduction. In matters of love and business, sometimes a hostile takeover wasn't a bad idea.

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Edge of Nowhere by Regina Carlysle

2009-12-28T18:21:00.000-08:00

Genre: Paranormal

Blurb:
Book 4 in the High Plains Shifters series.
From the moment Cactus Mackey rescues Sara Farmer from outlaw wolves, he knows she belongs to him—and he’s more than ready to mess up some sheets with the sassy female. But she has secrets and wants to run. Infuriating woman! He might have to tie her to his bed but he’s not about to give up until she belongs to him, body and soul.

As danger chases her, Sara knows it’s a huge mistake to fall head over heels for the sexy lycan cowboy from Wolf Creek Ranch. A single touch from this shockingly seductive man melts her like butter under the hot Texas sun, and has her yearning for impossible things. The man is big trouble to her heart and running may no longer be an option.

Excerpt:
“Sounds nice,” she whispered. “Tell me your name.”
“Cactus. Cactus Mackey.”
Again, that little sigh. “Funny name.”
He smiled. “What’d you expect? I’m a Texan.”
Sara shifted in his lap and his cock tightened. Gods! She had to feel the damn thing prodding her sweet, nicely plump ass. His balls went hard. Fighting off the powerful urge to fuck her right here in front of the gods and everybody was suddenly the hardest challenge he’d ever faced. Literally. But Cactus wasn’t a man who took advantage of wounded creatures and Sara was wounded, for sure. Downright shocky. Whatever had possessed him to drag her into his lap that way? Damn it! She’d been hurt, traumatized and emotionally battered. He’d felt the trembling of her body and needed to comfort her so he didn’t think twice about pulling her into his lap. She’d needed to know he represented safety and that she and her sister would be cared for in this town he called home.
“I’m Sara Farmer.”
Cactus tightened his hold and breathed in her scent. It wrapped around him like a benediction. Mine. Mine. Mine. The words whispered through his mind and he wondered if she felt it too.

PURCHASE

Ride It Like You Stole It by Raelynn Blue, Laura Guevara & Drea Riley, Jeanie Johnson & Jayha Leigh

2009-12-26T18:19:00.000-08:00

Genre: IR, MC, BBW, Contemporary Romance

Price: print: $14.25 print; e-book; $ 7.25

Length: 40,778 words

Blurbs:

Tucked into a hard-to-find and almost impossible to get there area of the Blue Ridge Mountains a short ride from Asheville, lies the town of Awau, North Carolina. Contrary to popular belief, Awau wasn’t an obscure Native American word but an acronym for Ass Whippings Are Us. The 15.125 miles2 that comprise the town is filled with an abundance of hiking and biking trails, mountains to climb, waterfalls, trout-filled streams and no trespassing signs.

Hard to locate by air or land, Awau was an adventure just waiting to happen. If you couldn’t find an adventure in nature, there was always an adventure to be found with the residents themselves. Only two-hundred in number, no town threw a party, raised hell, or valued their independence like the residents of the exclusive enclave. No one…except perhaps the ten residents of Azzwhuppingville Township.

Trekking onto that land uninvited was a bad ending just waiting to happen. There were dangerous things up in them woods and the bears and other wildlife was the least dangerous of them. That’s just what a gang of criminals on the run from the law is about to find out. Mix in criminals hell bent on mayhem, some hot azz law enforcement hell bent on justice, an all-female private-eye firm hell bent on a score, and a busload of nuns hell bent on hooking up their granddaughter with a good man descend upon Awau bedlam is the only outcome. And with the MF Please Posse in residence, you know some steaming romance is just waiting to be told.

“Operative Attraction” by Raelynn Blue

Hot on the trail of a serial rapist being protected by a ring of criminals, Olivia Eaton had only one intention-capturing the menaces to society at all costs, even using herself as bait. Her careful plans and meticulous undercover work didn’t prepare her for what she does actually capture—the attention of Tennessee goodness in the package of one sexy, southern hunk- Hal Stevens.

Hal Stevens wanted nothing more than to slap a pair of silver bracelets onto a serial rapist and the idiots protecting him—that is until he meets Olivia. After that, the only thing he cares about is protecting her from harm—harm said rapist and his cronies might want to put on her. He would do whatever it took to keep her out of harm's way, and everything to keep her heart.

"Private Dick" by Laura Guevara and Dréa Riley

Investigating isn’t just for the boys, and Tracey Richards is the best female in the game. With stunning good looks, slick hacking skills, and a shrewd talent for deception, Tracey’s about to catch a known rapist before the boys in blue. As her investigation clashes with the official police detectives, Tracey must be more cautious than ever. Sexy and flashy detective Avery Lamont gets too close to her secrets, to the truth, and Tracey must decide to lead him into her heart or lead him astray.

Avery Lamont put the flash in flashy, so when he and his partner end up in Awau, he’s all about business—finding and arresting a serial rapist. Each tip and information leads to more questions and at the core is DICK TRACEY Detective agency. The more answers he finds, the more questions arise. It isn’t long before he’s caught in a cat and mouse game with an elusive and seductive woman. The closer he gets to the truth, the more the danger grows—for his heart.

“Ride or Why Chick” by Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh

Rada Constantine was a bad azz treasure finder extraordinaire...in the on-season. In the off-season she is the official driver for her mommies (all seven of them) and her grandmommies (all eight of them). All good, because she didn’t drive just any bus. For that matter she didn’t even drive a bus. Instead, she captained a quad slide, forty-five foot conversion luxury coach. It had all of the bells and whistles including in-motion satellite system, fifty-two inch plasma, surround sound, plush leather seating for ten, a galley complete with sub-zero refrigerator and a bathroom complete with shower.

En route to the mountains of North Carolina, for what is supposed to be fourteen days of quiet relaxation, Rada is sceptical of just how much relaxing will take place. Considering the town that they’re visiting is an acronym for Ass Whippings Are Us and the fact that she knows these women she is sure that trouble is somewhere in the mix. When she pulled up to the enclave within the exclusive enclave, she knew she was right to be concerned.

Azzwhuppingville wasn’t just any mountain town. It was a replica of a wild west town that came complete with a saloon, gunsmith, and five-star hotel...that didn’t accept reservations but rather issued invites. Cool as all get out, it was just the kind of place where her grandmothers would not only find trouble, but find it and jump head first right on into it.

If you ignored his smoldering eyes, built like something you should ride into the sunset body, and sensuous full lips, Ažoulas Vytautas was just your average man...with international credentials to kick ass and take names. Waiting at the entrance of the Biltmore Hotel for his truck to be brought around, he contemplated what method he was going to use to learn something to the pieces of shit harboring a rapist-murderer that law groups had been hunting for a month. Knee-deep in his plans, he suddenly found himself surrounded by nuns and being “convinced” nicely to go for a ride.

Raised to respect his elders, he had no intention of going anywhere with them...even when they mentioned ‘Eternal Damnation.’ But then he caught a glimpse of the driver and he couldn’t help but “allow” the elderly nuns to lead him into the neon orange luxury coach. Despite her glare and the fact that she absolutely, positively hated him, Ažoulas knew that he’d met the woman he was going to introduce to his mother and father as his wife.

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Interview with Aliyah Burke

2009-12-11T21:25:00.000-08:00

I want to thank Aliyah Burke for taking the time to sit down with CNS Promotions to share a bit about herself and her writing career. Aliyah is one of my fav authors and having this time to chat with her was quite a treat! Enjoy and make sure you check out her next HOTTT Megalodon Team story Chayton's Tempest coming soon to Lulu. If you haven't sampled her Navy Seals you have been missing some incredibly hot alpha men and their strong ladies. You will not be disappointed so check them out!!

http://www.aliyah-burke.com/

What did it feel like to have your first book published?

It was a wonderful feeling. Now, going back I look at that book and think of all the ways I could have made it better but it was an experience that I will never forget.

Have you developed a thick skin when it comes to reviews?

I like to think I have. I know that no matter what I do, my stories won’t appeal to every single person who reads them. But as a whole I’d go with yes, I’ve gotten a pretty thick skin when it comes to them.

What makes Aliyah unique and stand out as an author?

She’s unique?? Hmmm…wow, well I haven’t a clue. I don’t think of myself as unique or standing out.

If you could only write one more story what would it be?

Ohhh, dangerous question. I have all these men in my head who are daring me to say it wouldn’t be them. I’m pretty sure it would be a military story but more than that, I can’t say.

How do you manage the voices in her head?

LOL, I so don’t. Those voices manage me. I’ve tried managing them. They laugh and I lose. What can I say.

What is the most challenging and most fulfilling part of being a writer?

Challenging would be keeping to my schedule. The most fulfilling would be having a book finished and released and then hearing from a reader on how they enjoyed it, how it made them see something in a different view.

You write some wonderful military stories that have your fans hooked. Tell us about your attraction to these stories and the most challenging part of writing them.

Well thank you, I’m glad people are hooked on them. I’m a military wife so I know that’s a big part of it. But truth be told, I love a man in uniform. There is nothing sexier to me. Hard to be accurate about some things and not cross the line with others. I know not everyone knows what truly goes on within the military and so something’s I may say will seem like something what wouldn’t happen. But, I have a vivid imagination and try to mix that well with a smattering of military stuff. I want the men to be strong, alpha, and brought to their knees by not just any woman but their woman. I love to see strong men turn into teddy bears when their woman looks at them and smiles. Or their children.

I believe that A Knight's Vow was your first book.....Tell us about your journey in writing that book and if you wrote it now what do you think would be different about the story?

Yes, A Knight’s Vow was my first published story. I had finally stopped fighting the voices in my head and listened. I think it would be much smoother. I know I’ve learned a great deal about the craft since then. A few more things fleshed out but hopefully people would still enjoy the story.

What have you learned about writing now that you didn't know when you first began?

It’s okay for me to be crazy. No, seriously, I’ve learned a lot, I’ve worked with some really good editors who’ve taken the time to point out things and answer questions so I can be more technical and make a cleaner manuscript before submitting. I’ve also learned about the darker side of writing. Which was unfortunate but I hope has made me wiser for future decisions I’ll make.

What advice would you give to an aspiring author?

Don’t give up. There are ups and downs in this business. if you want this to be a job, treat it like one. Work hard at it. And surround yourself with people who will not only support you but also give you good advice.

What do you hope that readers walk away with when they read one of your books?

Emotions first and foremost. I want them to have felt something about the story. Of course I hope they would be pleased that they took the time to purchase and read it.

What has been your toughest book to write and why?

Wow, I don’t know if one has been tougher than the others. All the stories are different and I am usually faced with a part in each that is difficult for me to get down.

What do your fans mean to you and has there a time when a fan said something that really touched you? If so, what was it and how did it impact you?

My readers mean everything to me. I thank God everyday for them. I have gotten a lot of many wonderful things from readers. Be it helping them somehow while they are deployed, allowing a person time to relax and disappear from the real world’s issues for a time, or just creating a world where they know that no matter what happens in the story, it will always end with a HEA.
I have received emails from readers on days when I’ve been ready to stop writing all together and their words of encouragement or thanx are what get me over the wall before me. They humble me.

Final question, what do you have in store for the fans in the coming year?

Coming year? *Big grin* who knows. At least one release.

The Naughty Nanny Series...Accidentally In Love by RaeLynn Blue

2009-12-06T12:03:00.000-08:00

Genre: IR Erotic

Blurb:

Charlotte Neal's day can't get any worse. Recently let laid off and suddenly unemployed, a casual drive home turns into a rear end disaster. Disoriented and hurt, she struggles to gain her bearings when a handsome paramedic arrives to save her. When Ichigo asks Charlotte to be his nanny, she thinks he's joking; but she needs the money. She accepts. Charlotte's physical scars aren't her only injuries; she has emotional ones as well.

Ichigo can't get the sexy woman from the car accident out of his head. Between thoughts of her and worries about finding a new nanny for his daughter, he can barely concentrate. He solves one problem by hiring her as his nanny. But can he keep his heart and his hands to himself or will he and Charlotte fall accidentally in love?

Excerpt:

It was these happy thoughts that swirled around Charlotte’s brain. She turned right, heading north, and reached to turn on her CD player, when horns blared, and the wet screech of rubber and asphalt tore through her musings. Her head shot up. From her rearview mirror she saw the sleek metallic of what appeared to be a Mercedes careening down Hobbs.
“Oh shit!” she screamed and tried to steer her car out of the path of the boat of a vehicle now hydroplaning toward her. The damn thing blurred with the precipitation. The impact slammed into the rear and sent her face first toward the steering wheel. Her car went sprawling into the left lane, into the face of oncoming traffic. More horn blares and near misses, as Charlotte turned the steering wheel this way and that to avoid being struck again. Thin blood trails streamed down her face, but she had to stay awake, to stay conscious, or be killed. Thankfully her car jumped the curb and ended up on the sidewalk, facing the Tanger Botanical Gardens.
Her heart banging in her chest, she turned off the car and put her head on the steering wheel. Nauseous from the spinning of her car, she closed her eyes to stop the damn merry-go-round. God, she was going to throw up.
She leaned back against the seat and panted. Swallowing the acidic mix of fear and adrenaline, she reached up to touch her forehead. Wincing, the first stinging licks of her injury erupted.
“Great and wonderful, I’m bleeding,” she croaked and closed her eyes again.
It could’ve been worse. She could be have been killed.
Three hard knocks made her bolt upright.
“Oh shit!” she screamed.
Heart in her throat, she peered at the person staring into her driver’s side window.
“Are you all right?” came a muffled voice.
Between the heavy shower and the rolled up window, she couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. In the distance the wail of an ambulance and what sounded like police cars wafted up to add to the din. She’d been hit. Right. She’d been in an accident.
“Are you okay? Need an ambulance?” the person asked again.
She shook her head no and realized a bit too late that it wasn’t the best thing to do. Before she could stop it, the nausea raced up her throat, forcing the contents of her stomach out onto her passenger seat.
Damn.
“Hey, hey, over here!” the Good Samaritan outside her window called.
Everything faded along the edges and she struggled to get the seatbelt off, but nothing doing. The odor of bile and her late breakfast made her stomach turn and another whirl of nausea threatened to make her spew. God, she had to get out of the car!
“Ma’am, are you okay?” asked a masculine voice, followed by the scent of rainwater.
Crouched down in the V of her now open driver side door, was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. She fought back the blackness threatening to engulf her. She had to stay awake, if only to get his name.
“I, I don’t think so,” she mumbled. She yanked the seatbelt, but it wouldn’t budge. “I, I think it’s stuck.”
“Shush,” the angel man said. His slanted eyes and warm smile made her relax even though panic hovered at the edge of exploding. “We’ll get you out of here and over to Wesley Long Hospital. Ah, Todd, I think she has a mild concussion! There’s a head injury over here.”
She swallowed again, and this time it was easier.
Another man appeared behind her angel, but she didn’t really look at him. Her gaze kept going to the man with the marvelous voice, kind smile, and sparkling eyes. He reached over her, leaning into the car. The warmth keening off of him made her go all gooey inside, and she forced herself to stay awake and her eyes not to droop. This close, she could tell he was of Asian descent. The arrow straight black hair had been yanked back into a ponytail, and he didn’t have any facial hair at all. Still, he was gorgeous. His lips hailed from some other ethnicity—so full, she could tug on them with her teeth, suck that bottom lip right into her mouth and lick it in abandon. He smelled good, like a man, but sporty. She inhaled air filled with him and sighed. Wow. Every man should smell like this one.
Darkness nibbled at her consciousness and her eyes shut leaving her vulnerable to the approaching black.
***
“Well, let me help you out of that uniform,” Charlotte teased, the palms of her hands soft against his torso. Pale, sinewy, and athletic, Mr. Paramedic smirked as she rotated her fingers across his warm skin.
They made small, circular motions across his chest, and then down to each of his nipples. Already hard with desire, his nipples tightened even more when her hands slid across them. She twisted her palms against them and, if possible, they hardened even more. As if she were holding some invisible string connected to his cock, each pass she made caused it to grow thicker, tenting his pants below the waist.
She’d taken that moment to put her malleable lips onto his left nipple and tug. His arms grabbed the sofa’s armrest for stability. His mouth tasted like honey, but her lips, they met his nipple with an electric intensity that bolted through him. Her tongue darted out and flicked the tortured point. His thigh muscles tensed in response.
“Ah, you like that, Mr. Paramedic.”
“Why yes, Charlotte, I do,” he replied, blithely. “Give me more.”
She nodded, as all efforts to speak had vanished completely in a whirling fit of yearning.
With her free hand, she took his sensitive nub, still wet from her mouth and rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger, while licking, sucking, and damn the gods, biting his right one.
Unable to stop himself, he put his hand in her hair and wrapped his fingers in their silky strands.
“You, you want this, me, Charlotte? You’re certain?”
She stared up at him and scowled. “Absolutely!” She growled and leaned up, grabbing and greedily seizing his shoulders to pull him down to her from the fantasy bedroom her stressed and weary mind conjured..
He didn’t have to be told a second time. He curled his arm around her shoulder, holding her to him. Rising up on her elbows, she thrust her pelvis toward him. Answering her body’s unspoken demands.
She wouldn’t be denied. Stealing his breath, she shot her hips forward, and captured his wonderfully steel shaft…

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The Naughty Nanny Series....Free Loving by Shara Azod

2009-12-06T00:56:00.000-08:00

Genre: IR Erotica

Blurb:

Free was just what her name implied. Born and raised on a commune estate, she had no desire for riches or fame. Her deepest desire was to start a school that would instruct children from birth not only how to learn but how to think. She just didn’t have the money to do it right. Seeing the ad for a nanny at an insane amount of pay, she knew she had to do it. It could be the answer to her prayers and give her the funds she needed to achieve her goal.

Travis may have been a heart throb and one of the biggest action movie stars there was, but at heart he was a simple cowboy. He wanted nothing more than to settle on his ranch and take care of his horses. He really didn’t need the stress of a brand new film he was obligated to star in or the brand new baby his sister left on his door step. He needed a nanny in the worst way.

Two people couldn’t have been more different, but the fire between them was too hot to ignore.

Excerpt:

Travis couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He must still be asleep, having one of the most erotic dreams ever. He rubbed his eyes, hard, but the vision remained the same. Yesterday, he had suspected Free was hiding one hell of a body underneath those loose clothes, but the reality was something that knocked him flat on his ass. In a word, she was simply stunning. Her dark cocoa skin glowed in the dawn’s early light, her body flowed with soft curves, full and feminine. Her breasts were all natural, high and full, kissed with dark raisin nipples that made his mouth water imagining their taste. She was neither short nor tall, but she was the farthest thing from average imaginable.

“Ah hell, she’s perfect,” he whispered harshly to his empty room, his hand fisting his aching cock.

He couldn’t look away as she bent and stretched, going through what appeared to be her morning yoga exercises. She had a full, round ass, tapering down to gracefully formed thighs. She was blissfully unaware anyone was watching as she stood and stretched, reaching toward the sky with her hands. Travis’s hand stroked faster, working his shaft from base to tip using his own precum as lubricant.

There was no way he could stay away from her, not after seeing what was before him now.

Then she turned. Her eyes went straight to the sliding door where he stood, watching her. Bare as the day he was born, masturbating to her early morning ritual.

Run! his mind screamed. Cover yourself, drop your damn hand, do something!

But he didn’t. He didn’t stop the movement of his hand, didn’t attempt to cover himself, he didn’t move at all.

Neither did she. Her stunned eyes went from his face to the rod in his hand and stayed there. Damned if she didn’t lick her lips as he defiantly stroked off as she watched. His skin burned hotter, his movements speeding up. His eyes moved from her face down the contours of her figure stopping at the juncture between her thighs. Oh, shit, she was completely bare! Her puffy labia open to his gaze. He could have sworn there was moisture coating the slit, but it could have been a trick of light or his fevered imagination. Oh, how he wished it was her walls surrounded his pulsating cock instead of his fist. He could almost feel her warm quim welcoming him inside, sucking him in.

With a muted cry, Travis exploded, his seed gushing in a wild rush.
Shit! What had he done?

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Future Perfect by Helen E.H. Madden

2009-11-24T14:56:00.000-08:00

Blurb:
What if you made love at the end of the universe ... only to discover your partner was a devastating black hole?What if you cut down a tree in your yard ... and Mother Nature came after you with a switch?What if your lover saw the future ... every time she had an orgasm?For years, speculative fiction has asked the question "What if... " Now go one step beyond and speculate on the possibilities of the erotic.From the distant future to a mythical past and everything in between, FUTURE PERFECT examines the role of sex in a fantastic world. The stories range from hard science fiction to classic horror and urban fantasy, but through it all runs a thread of explicit sexuality that embraces every orientation and relationship imaginable. Whether it's the force of cosmic creation or the deceitful lure of sin, FUTURE PERFECT takes sex beyond the limits of the everyday to celebrate it on a universal scale.
So open the cover and leave the mundane behind. A world of "What if... " is waiting for you.

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Snap Shot II by M. Millswan

2009-11-24T14:27:00.000-08:00

Description:

For all of us who have ever desired to fulfill the fantasy of attaining that perfectly unreachable girl of our dreams, Snap Shot II provides the opportunity to live out just such an experience. A young man away from home for the first time, like every other guy on campus he's awe-struck by the beautiful and popular sorority queen. Truly as aloof as a princess in an ivory tower, she moves in circles far outside the realm of his social status. Yet through his talent with a camera, he encounters the erotic opportunity of a lifetime, capturing her not just on film but in a way neither of them will ever forget.

Erotic and intensely intimate in revealing the emotions of youth and desire, as vivid as an actual photograph in allowing the reader to experience one young man's sexual thrill of a lifetime, readers have said, “It's the story of a coming of age”, “The characters come alive on the page”, “Mere sex stories pale in comparison”, “On a scale of one to five, I would give it a ten.”

The much anticipated sequel to the all-time Literotica favorite “Snap Shot”, this new story of a young man and his camera is a treat for the discerning reader of fine erotica.

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A Human Reaction by Peter Ashley

2009-11-23T15:56:00.000-08:00

Genre: Action/Adventure

Blurb:

Earth is gripped in a devastating, post-apocalyptic final war that only one nation will be allowed to survive…In his quest to bring a proud nation to its knees, Commander John Henson fails to destroy a seemingly insignificant enemy base, and in doing so is captured. As his own side fights for his return, John begins his greatest battle - the fight with himself, his loyalties, and his beliefs.

Excerpt:

Commander John Henson narrowed his envious eyes up at the quarter moon and cursed the dim crescent for smugly boasting its safety above the mêlée he’d inadvertently triggered. But the spy would remain helpless under its soft glare for only a short while longer. He promised that. For now, though, he clung to his partner as she burrowed deeper into his embrace, desperately trying to weather the laser storm raised by their pursuers.
Henson ducked as a rifle blast ricocheted inches above his head, deflecting with a shriek off their overturned transport. Salome squealed softly when his weight suddenly bore down on her. Collecting his nerve, he quickly got off her and placed a calming hand on the back of her neck.
They had to move soon. Their partial cover was being battered from approximately thirty metres by enemy soldiers that had swarmed out of the base’s main hangar. The pitch-black night and their dark jumpsuits concealed them enough that they hadn’t suffered a direct hit. However, Henson knew it wouldn’t be long before the soldiers surrounded them and ended the chase for good.
Despite years of battle experience, he couldn’t stop his body from flinching as the gunfire increased. The laser fumes produced noxious smog that hung in the still air. The spy spluttered out the sour taste from the back of his throat and buried his face in an exposed clump of Salome’s rich golden hair, sucking in the sweet scent that faintly lingered there. The aroma immediately calmed and cleared his mind. Rational thought under fire was an essential tool in any spy’s armoury and he was grateful to draw it from her. Henson began to focus on the luminosity of the blasts and used them like a torch to highlight the gloomy compound.
It wasn’t long before he spotted another option.
He caught sight of a small building twenty metres away. With the cover of night, Henson liked his chances of getting there unscathed. He held on tight for several more blasts, relishing the feel of Salome. She always fit so neatly into him that even at desperate times like these she seemed just another part of him. Although he yearned to stay attached, he finally broke their embrace and she grunted with disapproval. Her sapphire eyes longed for more of him and met his own indulgent gaze.
“Watch my back?” he asked, teasing her lips with his own. His question could have been an order, but despite his superior rank and formidable reputation, it was a request from one lover to another.
“Always.” She grabbed his neck and bolstered her promise with a hard kiss.

PURCHASE

Pit Stop by Ben Larken

2009-11-23T15:40:00.000-08:00

2009 EPPIE Best Horror Winner

Genre: Horror

Blurb:

Welcome to the Pit-Stop Grill, a roadside attraction along Arizona’s Route 66 where travellers kick up their feet while sipping a nice cup of joe. It’s a cool oasis in an unforgiving desert landscape. It’s also the last stop on the road to Hell. When ten people find themselves inside the eerie diner, unable to get out or remember how they arrived, all they know is what their waitress, Holly, tells them: a bus is coming. It will take them the rest of the way to a destination of unspeakable horrors.

Excerpt:

The bus driver continued toward the Pit-Stop, strolling leisurely, taking wide strides on spindly legs as if he had all the time in the world. He wore a plain black uniform with a matching bus driver’s cap. His lanky frame passed the gas pumps.
Scott huddled next to Dustin. “We could take him. If we all charged him at once, we could take him.”
Dustin’s eyes were glued to the approaching driver. As Scott finished talking he saw the white-faced man crack a smile, as if he had heard Scott’s question. Because he did. Dustin thought. Dear Lord, he hears everything we say. Maybe even everything we think.
“I think that would be a bad idea,” Dustin finally said.
“I’m open to any good ideas,” Scott replied, a trace of anger in his voice.
“I’m working on it.”
“Work faster.”
Footsteps echoed through the door. Click, click, click. A silhouette paused in the threshold then the driver stepped silently inside. “He has a nametag,” Laura whispered.
Dustin saw it—a small white circle on his right breast pocket with one word sewn in red. His heart sank another notch. “So that’s Ramsey.” The bus driver paused once more to look with crimson eyes at the crowd at the far end of the diner, eight people pressed together. Then he walked to the counter and took a seat on the first bar stool.
“Holly,” he said in a voice soft as velvet. He could have been in bed whispering to a lover. “Where are you, Holly?”
She stepped from the back room, shivering all over. “I’m here.” She tried to make eye contact with him but couldn’t find the courage to do it.
Ramsey placed delicate white hands on the counter. “You know what sounds good, Holly? Iced tea. I swear it’s been an eternity since I’ve had a nice glass of iced tea. Would you bring me some? A hemina’s worth should suffice.”
A hemina’s worth? Dustin had never heard the word and would guess no one else in their group had either. He had a distinct feeling they were looking at a being who had traversed all cultures and nations, all eras of history too. He frowned. How old was this guy?
Holly nodded curtly. “Right away.”
She disappeared into the back room and Dustin heard pots clanking as Holly rushed to fill the order. Meanwhile, the bus driver remained motionless on the stool, his eyes pointed at the cook’s window. A hint of a smile curled his pasty lips. Holly reappeared with a pitcher of honey-colored liquid and a clean glass. She placed the glass in front of him. It rattled against the counter as her hands shook and she poured the tea, using all her focus to keep from sloshing even a drop.
“Thank you, Holly,” he said, bringing the cup to his lips. His glittering red eyes never left the waitress as he took several long gulps, his throat clicking with each swallow. He set the empty glass on the counter and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
“Holly,” he said with a voice infuriatingly calm. “Please show your customers what happens when they refuse to get on the bus.” Even through the nerves stretching Holly’s face, her expression dropped. She didn’t move at first. Then, with noticeable strain, her hand lifted to her blouse. She unbuttoned the top button, then the next one. She stopped.
“Ramsey, please,” she whispered. “Please don’t make me.”
He replied like a parent softly disciplining a child. “Holly, show the people what happens when you don’t get on the bus.”
She closed her eyes as a line of mascara ran down her cheek. She unclasped the next button and pulled open her blouse.
“Oh, crap,” Bill said. He was the only one who spoke. Cassie let out a small whimper. Everyone else could barely breathe as they stared at the cavity where Holly’s chest should have been. The skin was gone. Instead there were mold-covered ribs and even darker things lurking beneath. Decrepit organs like fist-sized raisins writhed and pumped under the bones. Holly closed her blouse as quickly as she opened it.
“Thank you, Holly,” Ramsey said. “You may go now.”

PURCHASE

Bark! by Darrell Bain

2009-11-23T14:52:00.000-08:00

Genre: Sci-Fi/Comedy

Blurb:

Find out what happens when Tonto, a little, ADHD affected, one-testicled weenie dog, turns out to be the only thing standing between the Earth and accidental alien invasion!

Excerpt:

The area of pine straw covering the place where the Testers were hiding while the injured one healed began shifting. A moment later the two Testers emerged, senses alert and ready to assume the shape of any nearby animal should they be threatened. There was nothing around to bother them at the moment.

...The aliens, in slow fits and starts, moved toward the Stone's house, driven by unconscious needs. Some went astray, or were eaten by predators, but the majority stayed close to where they sensed sapient beings, and close to the originals. The Testers weren't in a great hurry but they were implacable. They moved and reproduced as their peculiar genes dictated, aiming to eventually duplicate the most intelligent of the native fauna, the humans...

...Gordon Ruttledge was called Gordo by all his friends. They had met Gordo while working overseas right after they married. He was a genius who had once worked for NASA as a xenobiologist, but been fired for bringing his flask to work with him and uncapping it periodically during the day. As Gordo put it, "A little nip now and then keeps the creative juices bubbling. NASA is just too goddamned hidebound to see the advantages of stimulating the brain cells at timed intervals. I showed them figures but those MBAs these days don't understand simple math."...

PURCHASE

Bittersweet by Amber Hipple

2009-11-21T21:51:00.000-08:00

EPIC Awards 2010 Finalist

ISBN: Paperback 9781905091317, ebook 9781905091324

$7.99, $5.99 instant ebook download

Blurb:

Not all sex is romance or fun. Sometimes there's desperation there. Explore the deeper, darker aspects of love and want in "Bittersweet", Amber Hipple's intensely emotive debut collection of tainted erotica. Be moved by the cycle of wanting to be wanted and the pain of wanting too much. "Bittersweet" is a lesson in reality; it's what love and desire can be. Expect no "happy ever after" in these stories, but expect to be left wanting more."

Amber Hipple has come up with something quite out of the ordinary in ‘Bittersweet’. Gone is the sugary-sweet romanticism and the happy-ever-after, to be replaced by the profound emotions and outpourings that are real in love and sex. You’ll find your heart being wrenched apart by the yearnings and the despair of the characters, yet still be stirred and aroused by the sheer passion in the erotica she produces.” - Logical-Lust

Excerpt:

FROM "BLOOD ON SNOW"

I said nothing—just listened to the rhythmic murmur of his words. I was unsure how to respond to his sweetly spoken confession, but his urge to do me violence stirred something within me. A whisper of desire rose to the surface of my melancholy.
“I wonder if it would be half so lovely.” His hand clamped down on my wrist. “Come.”
His touch surprised me. I feared what this man would do to me and I feared the primal heat throbbing between my thighs. I jerked my hand away, knocking over my wine. The glass shattered and liquid spattered my cheek. Frightened, I gasped and closed my eyes. This strange man was so close to me that I could no longer smell the roses—only him. There was none of the imagined musk—just clean male and leather. His proximity made me uneasy and edgy. I willed him away with my mind, but I felt his hand on my wrist still.
“Come.”
I went with him that day and he made love to me on satin sheets the color of sin. They were the deep dark red of my forgotten spilled wine and were cool to the touch. Our breath and sweat warmed them until they were fiery hot. The next time we were together, he poured hot wax on my back in the pattern of a rose. I gasped when the wax stung my flesh. As it cooled and hardened on my skin I wondered if I would bear a new scar. I went to him again for a third time and he bound me with silk, running it between my legs so that, as I struggled away from his cruel teeth, my clit throbbed against it. In the end, I gyrated so much that I brought on my own climax while he watched me with hooded eyes.

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Time Currents by Brenna Lyons

2009-11-21T20:49:00.000-08:00

EPIC Awards 2010 Finalist

Blurb:

Lord Sevryn is home for a visit with his intemperate mother and spoiled siblings. Between rants about lowborns, courtesy of his mother, Sev makes a wondrous discovery; one of the maids his mother hired in his absence is his Goddess-destined soulmate.

Or is she? Bettina is his soulmate, to be sure, but otherwise she's not what she seems. Her reasons for avoiding Sev are complicated. Mates don't hide things from one another, and there is a lot Bettina is hiding. For one thing, she's not lowborn. Raised in the lap of luxury, she decided to run rather than embrace a power that threatens her mind and heart.

Excerpt:

Sev headed for the pool, shielding his fury from Bettina, though he still wasn’t certain she felt his emotions as he felt hers.
No. She felt it. When she startled and turned to me, she felt our connection. Neither did he doubt that she’d felt his arousal.
But, if she felt it, why hadn’t she come to the obvious conclusion? Perhaps because they were in accord so often, feeling similar emotions? It had confused him at first. Why shouldn’t it confuse her?
His step slowed in misery. She doesn’t trust me. His heart ached at the memory of her fear.
Where in the Mother Goddess’s name had she gotten the idea that he would force her into sexual servitude?
Sev went still, a chill racing down his spine. Had Lewin tried it? Had he succeeded? He couldn’t raise the possibility in discussion without bringing his brother’s scrutiny down on Bettina, but if he ever learned Lewin did something so foul, there would be pain in his brother’s future.
In the meantime, Sev had to find a way to win his soulmate’s trust.

* * *

“You are mad, Bettina Moon,” she berated herself, hesitating with her hand on the door latch.
How many times had she argued this? There was no reason she could give herself for meeting him that sounded less than completely daft. Even learning why he enjoyed her company--
Daft!
She turned from the garden door, stiffening her spine, marching back toward the servants’ quarters. That lasted seven steps.
Two more than the last time. At this pace, it will take me one hundred more bouts with indecision to reach my goal.
Bettina had already turned from the door three times and stopped herself from reaching it twice. A nameless longing ate at her, and she turned back, staring at the door in guilty misery.
Why did she want to do this? It was lunacy. It was...

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The Great Right Hope by Mark Jackman

2009-11-21T20:09:00.000-08:00

Genre: Horror

Blurb:

“Even the best vampires need a good smack...”

In north-east England, a monster has arisen. A vampire beast is stalking the Yorkshire moors, mutilating and destroying everything in its path. The vampire elders realise that the Firmamentum has cast its shadow on the world once more–a phenomenon which happens every few millennia, where a human and a vampire are born ultimately powerful and destined to oppose each other...

Sid Tillsley is a forty-six year old benefit-fraudster from Middlesbrough. He's an overweight alcoholic, and also sexist, homophobic and a lazy git. But one thing sets him apart from his northern brethren; he can kill vampires with a single punch.

Now, as you can imagine, killing a vampire with a big haymaker is pretty amazing. After all, they are big hard bastards who can regenerate and stuff, and if anyone could kill them, Dracula would never have lived up to his tough-guy persona. So, when Sid inadvertently kills a vampire, whom he wrongly suspects as being a homosexual dogger trying it on with him, the whole vampire world is thrown into a state of shock. Suddenly, and very reluctantly, Sid finds himself the centre of human and vampire attention. Some want to kill him, but others believe him to be the Bellator; the one to fight the vampire beast.

That's all well and good, but Sid just wants to get pissed down the pub with his mates, and, maybe, just maybe, end his two year drought with the ladies. Besides, Sid has more important things to worry about. The benefit office are on to him, and, if they see him scrapping, they'll know that his bad back and dodgy heart are all a load of bollocks!

Forget “Twilight”, “The Great Right Hope” is the vampire release for 2009!

Excerpt:

“So there I was in middle of this room, and the undead were upon me!” Sid lit up an Embassy Number One. He was in the Miner’s, propped up the bar. The cigarette had been donated to Sid by one of the lads and it was his first legal cigarette for nigh on ten years. It was eight o’clock on the Sunday night. Brain Garforth (reinstated drinker of the Miner’s Arms—Kev could never turn down a dollar), Kevin Ackroyd, Arthur Peasley, Peter Rathbone and the lads surrounded Sid, listening to his tale of courage and drunken haymakers.
“I’d had a few ales like, as you do when you’re working the door.”
Peter Rathbone interrupted. “Not me, Sid. I never use these after a drink,” he looked at his fists as if they were going to go off. “When I studied Tiger Claw and Husky Kung Fu under Master Thomas, I learnt how to kill. The slight mistiming of my chi energy can kill a man dead, if that’s not what I’m trying to do anyway.”
Every eyeball rose to the roof simultaneously. Every pub has a certain character that is full of shit and always trying to outdo everyone else’s story. Peter Rathbone was that character. Every story that has ever been told, Peter Rathbone had one better; if someone pulled a set of twins, he pulled triplets, or possibly Siamese twins; if someone holed an eagle, he holed an albatross etc. etc., until closing time, or he was knocked out.
Brian Garforth did not suffer fools lightly and had listened to the ranting of Peter too many times. “Shut up, Rathbone. Let the man tell the story. No one wants to hear your bullshit!”
Peter was positively offended. “How dare you? You are lucky that I was taught restraint during my teachings in China.”
“Everyone knows that your ‘training’ consisted of Billy, the chef at Ming’s Kitchen, giving you a kicking for nipping his bird’s arse last New Years. Now shut the fook up and let Sid tell his story.”
Peter went bright red with anger and embarrassment, but kept quiet nonetheless. After the laughter subsided Sid continued.
“As I was saying, I was in the middle of the room, and the undead were upon me!”
“Where were you, man?” asked the handsome face of Arthur Peasley.
“It was in some warehouse. I didn’t really know where the hell I was. I just woke up in some warehouse. Some bastard had thrown water over me.”
“How did you get there?” asked Brian.
“That’s the thing, mate, I ain’t really sure. I was at the club, and then I went for a slash ‘cos I’d had a few too many. I must have slipped and banged me ‘ead like?” Sid was genuinely puzzled by it all. Booze is wonderful at taking the memories away.

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SWING! Adventures in Swinging by Today's Top Erotica Writers

2009-11-21T17:28:00.000-08:00

Genre: Erotica

ISBN: Paperback 9781905091355, ebook 9781905091171
$14.99US, $7.99 instant ebook download

Blurb:

Put yourself into the SWING! of things with the collective works of today's top erotica writers.

SWING! vicariously through the enthralling stories in this most exciting of anthologies. Find yourself there in the beds of the swingers, sandwiched between writhing bodies, enriched in all senses by the gifted writings of SWING!'s elite line-up of authors.

SWING! is a truly stunning collection of swinging stories, unlike any other anthology you will have read. Whether you swing, whether you're simply fascinated by swinging, or just looking for some damn fine erotica, you too can SWING!

Authors:

Jacqueline Applebee; Neve Black; M. Christian; Jolie Du Pré; Amanda Earl; Jeremy Edwards; Rowan Elizabeth; Emerald; Michael Hemmingson; Jolene Hui; D. L. King; Keeb Knight; Randall Lang; Ashley Lister; M. Millswan; Claudia Moss; Alicia Night Orchid; Karmen Red; Rick R. Reed; TreSart L. Sioux; Donna George Storey; Tawanna Sullivan; Sage Vivant; Beth Wylde; Lara Zielinsky

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The Hollows by Ben Larken

2009-11-20T19:19:00.000-08:00

Genre: Horror

ISBN: Paperback 9781905091546; Ebook 9781905091553
Price $14.95 for paperback, $5.99 for instant ebook download

Blurb:

1949
A young girl is traumatized when she witnesses a grisly murder in the forest behind her home.

1999
A loving wife disappears in the middle of the night, leaving no trace of her whereabouts.

2009
Former detective David Alders rents an apartment at a typical complex; a quiet unassuming place nestled in the outskirts of Fort Worth called The Hollows.

David is at a dead end after ten maddening years searching for his vanished wife. With mounting bills and a daughter on the verge of college, he makes the only logical choice: sell the family home, get back to work, and take a cheap apartment. His daughter, Melanie, is secretly thrilled about the change hoping it means a fresh start for their withering family.
But The Hollows has other plans…
As a new community welcomes the Alders into its midst, elusive figures watch from the periphery, waiting for their moment. On the first night, a grotesque, burnt man seizes Melanie in her bed, spewing insane ramblings before disappearing into the darkness. She struggles to convince her father what happened was real, but David has his own problems.
Like the fact that he has just woke up in the wrong day.
Welcome to a tour through the dark underbelly of the last half-century where invisible hands take you by force to the demons of your past. Where you can find terror, time travel, and murder—all for one low monthly rent. Welcome to…

THE HOLLOWS.
Pray that the lease agreement expires before you do.

Excerpt:

Elise’s Journal: December 28, 1993

I tried to get my wedding ring back today. I pawned it two weeks ago so we could buy some decent presents for Melanie. David doesn’t know. He started at the police academy last month and he’s barely bringing home enough to pay the utilities. He probably thinks I borrowed the money from my brother, although he doesn’t realize that the idea makes me as livid as it makes him. But I wanted Mel to have some good presents. I know she’s only three months old. I don’t care. This was her first Christmas and our first Christmas as a complete family. I wanted it to be special.
The pawn shop guy couldn’t find my ring. He spent an hour searching the jewelry shelves, the merchandise storage bins, the owner’s desk—everywhere. I don’t know if he did it for show or if he saw a young woman with a baby in her arms and tears streaming down her face and felt compelled to keep going. His compassion hit its expiration after sixty minutes. He stopped at the counter, shrugged, and said something to the effect of, That’s that.
Excuse me? As far as I was concerned THAT most definitely was not THAT.
Look, lady, he said. You gave us the ring. We gave you money. I know you didn’t mean it to be permanent, but sometimes you have to take the trade as it stands.
The jackass.
I spent the rest of the afternoon at home, crying my eyes out, wondering if David would forgive me. Melanie was the one who pulled me back. I watched her in her crib, staring quietly up at her new Beauty & the Beast mobile. She focused on each individual character as it circled past—the princess, the candle, the Beast, the clock. Her wide eyes flickered in amazement for all of them. That’s when I realized the pawn shop guy was right, even if he would forever be known as Mr. Jackass. Our first Christmas as a family had been perfect. I would remember it always. At the end of the day, the wedding band was just something I wore. The trade was worth the memory.
Tomorrow I’ll tell David the ring fell down the bathtub drain.

THE CLOCK STRIKES

ONE

Had I but known the pace at which

The golden days and deep blue nights
Would rush along my winding road,
How differently I would have held
Your perfect face here in my hands

The Ballad of Adnan Brophie
Susi Steele

1

The Buckner Farm
May 13, 1949

For Tess Buckner the only worthwhile activity on that blustery Texas afternoon was standing between the two clotheslines in the backyard and letting the sheets billow against her. White cotton sheets lifted on the breeze, tickled her nose, and played dead again. She held out her arms, turning her little body into a T. The sheets rose to the occasion, taking her hands in loose but enthusiastic handshakes. Tess giggled.
Then the breeze quieted and so did she. Momma’s head bobbed over the clothesline on the right, her squinty gaze catching Tess at once.
“I thought my pischouette came out here to help her mother,” she said in a tone that , sounded both amused and annoyed.
“I’m only so big,” Tess explained. “These clotheslines are too high for me.”
“Which means I should give you a chore more suited to your size.”
“But Maw-aaah,” Tess whined. “I’m helping. I’m looking out for dropped drawers.”
Mare Buckner smiled. “I assure you, my drawers are in no danger of dropping.”
Tess took a moment to catch her mother’s meaning. “I mean from the line, silly.” She laughed. The sheets thought it funny too. They billowed up in their own silent fits of hilarity.
“Tell me a story,” Tess said. She couldn’t see Momma beyond the sheets, but she didn’t have to see her to know she was rolling her eyes. Tess waited and asked again. “Tell me a story…pleeease?”
“You’ve heard all my stories,” Mare replied, but Tess didn’t believe her. There are endless quantities of certain things. The beach will always have enough sand. The sky will always have enough rain. And Momma will always have a story squirreled away in the corner of memory taken up by childhood.
Mare Buckner grew up in Nawlins. At least that’s the way she pronounces it. Papa insists it’s pronounced New Orleans. It’s only a teensy bit away from Texas, where they live. Tess once put her fingers on the United States map at school, one on New Orleans and one on Fort Worth, and the gap was barely the size of a dime. Part of her longed to see Momma’s Nawlins, but Papa sounded like the distance was too far to be troubled with.
Tess rounded the sheets as Mare pulled one of Papa’s shirts from the basket. Tess tugged on the shirt. “A story, Momma. Story, story, story!”
“Tess Elizabeth Buckner,” Mare said, snapping the shirt back. “You’re about to hear the story of the girl who spent all day pulling weeds as punishment for back-sass.”
“But you haven’t told me one in weeks,” Tess pleaded. Momma didn’t know that Tess repeated the stories at school. She had grown popular retelling them. A small circle of third graders on the playground gawked at her in awed silence as she spun tales of Southern jinxes and Vodun curses. Even big-shot Arnie Fetters occasionally shuddered or gasped in surprise. If the stories ever got back to the teachers, she’d be in for an earful from her mother. But for the moment Tess was willing to take that chance.
Besides, Tess loved the way Momma sounded as she told them. That accent she tried hard to simmer down most times came bounding back to life during a story. Tess always thought she was glimpsing Momma in her truest, most beautiful form.
“I’ve got it,” Tess said, holding a finger up like her teacher did when making a point. “If you tell me a story I’ll pull weeds in the flowerbed for a full hour.” She rocked on her feet as her mother looked at her. “You have to admit that’s a pretty swell deal.”
Mare studied her daughter for a moment, making Tess feel like she was getting a final hair and clothes check before heading to the bus stop. Momma’s stares always seemed too long, and Tess sometimes wondered what she was looking for. Maybe her attention was drawn to the blonde ringlets that came naturally to Tess but took Momma half the morning to reproduce with pincurls. Or it could have been the over abundance of freckles that speckled her nose and cheeks like a swarm of snowflakes. Whatever it was, Momma seemed to get a little lost inside herself when she stared at Tess. The hypnotic music coming from the radio on the kitchen window ledge didn’t help. I’m Looking Over a Four Leaf Clover gave way to the dreamy Bing Crosby crooning Now Is the Hour. Tess listened, swooning in the breeze, as Bing melodiously said goodbye to a loved one sailing away.
“The weeds can wait another day,” Mare decided. “But that doesn’t mean you’re getting a story for free.”
Tess grabbed her mother’s dress. “I’ll do anything.”
Mare grabbed another piece of clothing from the basket. Tess cracked a smile when she saw it was Papa’s drawers. “Fetch that pail off the back porch,” Mare instructed. “If you can go down to the river and make it back with a pail-full of water, I’ll tell you a story.”
“That’s it?” Tess bounced happily. “I can do that.”
Their well pump had gone out yesterday evening, giving Papa a chance to use many of the words Mrs. Gershon said were “Paddle Words.” Mare propped her hands on her hips.
“Then why are you dancing around here?”
Tess didn’t need further motivation. She darted for the porch, grabbing the pail by the handle without slowing. Rounding their two-story farmhouse, she nearly banged the pail into Papa’s candy-apple red Studebaker. She pulled back in time, thankful she didn’t scratch the paint. That wouldn’t have been pretty, for the paintjob or her behind.
She slowed to skip across the flat stones surrounding the circle drive, being careful not to get caught on the rosebushes near the porch. Beyond that was the rusty old barn. Tess hurried past it, hearing Papa’s disgruntled tones echo through the loft window. He was somewhere in there, grumbling to himself and banging tools and getting himself all in a dither. Papa spent whole days dithering in the barn and on those days Tess knew to steer clear. When a matter couldn’t wait, it was Momma who ventured into the barn, and she never came out looking happy about it.
Beyond the barn the forest began. It looked dense and forbidding to a first-timer, which Tess was proud to say she wasn’t. The forest wasn’t as vast as it first appeared. It covered three acres at most, and once inside, the trails were easy to follow. Within minutes you emerged from the other side, staring at the Trinity River. But for a few precious moments, the woods came to life in that same mystical way Nawlins did in Momma’s stories. The silence seemed watchful, as if something unseen waited in breathless anticipation.
Tess was through the first acre when she heard the sound. It was low and barely audible. She cocked her head and stopped, peering up at the canopy of branches and the shards of sunlight that pushed through the leaves like hungry fingers. Her body went rigid as the sound drifted over the breeze again.
A groan. She heard a low, muted, raspy groan.
It was a ragged, withering voice that could have been male or female. She twisted around slowly, finding it difficult to move. The sound didn’t come from any one direction. But it was close. The more she listened the closer it felt. She stared at the forest floor, seeing pine needles dappled in sunlight. The shadows became more noticeable.
The groan lifted into a reedy warble. Someone had to be hurt, maybe from tripping over a branch, or getting bit by a snake—or worse. Tess wanted to call out. Her lips parted, but her voice didn’t follow. Her mouth had gone dry as dirt. The groan spiked again, passing through her like an electric shock. Tess coughed.
“Are…are you okay?” Had she said it out loud? What made it past her lips came out as a whisper. Tess tried again, pushing the words out one at a time. “Hello? Who are you? Where are you?”
The groan broke into a series of dry coughs, sounding like the distant gunfire she heard during hunting season. A thump followed the coughs, and then silence. Tess waited, realizing the abrupt end to the noise was scarier than the noise itself. The fear put her in motion. “Hello?” she called louder. “Where are you? Tell me where you are.”
No answer. She moved deeper into the forest, leaving the path. Bushes snagged at the blue summer dress Momma had bought last week. She couldn’t stop to disentangle herself from every little branch. Faces of her schoolmates floated in her mind as she imagined each one lying with a broken leg and grasping at the air for help. Tess climbed a small rise and tried again.
“Please call out again,” she cried as she stepped carefully over a trunk and into a small grove of trees. A group of crows took flight, shooting upward from every side. Tess staggered to avoid them. Her foot landed on something that wasn’t ground. Up above a crow cawed in annoyance. She had already forgotten the crows. Her focus was on the large wooden door she stood upon.
The wood was nearly green from years of overgrowth. The metal clasps and the old padlock on the handle were so rusted they looked bloodstained. It was a cellar door, or more likely a storm shelter. Spring storms in these parts would justify having one, but why so far from the farmhouse and so well hidden? The surrounding trees stood like guardians protecting the door from the outside world.
The groan came again. Tess screamed and leapt back, dropping her water pail. The sound came from directly beneath her. She knelt on the ground and knocked on the door in a panic, not wasting time thinking. Someone was down there, someone who needed her. A cold knot tightened in her stomach.
“Who are you?” she cried, banging the door with her small fist. “Are you hurt?”
The groan lowered to a whimpering. It sobbed, and Tess brought her ear close to the wood, taking in every sniffle. It whispered only one word.
“Mm-mm—momma.”
Tess scrambled to her feet and grabbed the first heavy thing she saw, a fallen branch not two feet from the door. Tess hefted it as best she could, shifting it onto her shoulder and taking a stance over the blood red lock. “Don’t you worry,” she said. “I’m getting you out of there.”
With a squeaky grunt she swung the branch and got it on the first try. The branch hit the heart-shaped padlock, and the metal shattered like an ancient vase. She probably could have kicked it with her shoe and gotten the same result.
She lugged the branch aside and grabbed the door handle, hoping it wasn’t as breakable as the lock. “I’m opening the door,” she announced to whoever was down there. If it was a small child, she didn’t want to scare him or her. She squatted and braced herself—and then pulled.
It was hard, but not as hard as she expected. The door didn’t shift from its resting place at first. The roots and weeds at its borders played tug-of-war with her. Tess thought of the cowering child waiting inside and put her back into it. Weeds ripped, roots cracked, and the door swung until gravity helped her, allowing her to let the door fall against a tree. Tess found herself at the top of a staircase, staring down into blackness.
The overbearing stench of mildew forced her to step back. Sour air wafted over her, the underground lair exhaling after years of holding its breath. She wondered how someone could actually be waiting down there. She kept looking in the oily darkness, hoping for a sign of movement.
“Can you walk? ...Hello?”
No movement. No sound. Had she scared the child? The daylight could be too bright for someone who spent a long time in darkness. She squatted again and held out her hand, like someone befriending an uneasy dog.
“It’s okay. You can come out. I wanna help.”
She waited but no response came. Rising from the squat, she eyed the rotten-looking stairs warily. Only the first four were visible in the light, and there was no way to know how many followed or if they were intact. And yet the toe of her shoe drifted closer to the first stair. Her shoe touched the wood and a soft creak echoed in the darkness. She let her other foot follow until she was completely on the step. It sagged a little, but it didn’t break. She was sure of it. She—
Hands closed on her shoulders.
Tess gasped as she was pulled backward. The hands spun her around until she was staring into Momma’s taut face. “Tessie. Tu dèlires? I send you for water and you decide to go exploring instead? Well, I think I have several other chores that need your immediate attention.”
“But Momma!” she erupted. She twisted in her mother’s grip, pointing into the black hole. “There’s someone down there! I heard ’em crying. I think the person’s hurtin’.”
Mare had started pulling her the other way, but stopped to look back. She eyed Tess first and then the door. It was obvious she had never seen it before either. She turned her gaze to her daughter. “Wait. What?”
“The child’s down there, I promise.” She stared up at Momma, letting the tears come. “I know he ain’t making noise now, but he’s down there. He is. I wouldn’t make this up. Not this.” She tugged on her mother’s dress, praying her momma wouldn’t think she let her imagination get the best of her. Adults had a way of ignoring the important stuff.
Mare’s gaze remained steady. “All right,” she finally said. “Let me take a look.”
Tess nodded gratefully and they turned to the waiting darkness. Mare stepped past, keeping one hand firmly on Tess’s shoulder to let her know she wasn’t to follow. Mare went to the doorway and stopped at the edge.
“Who’s down there?” she demanded. “Tell me your name and how you found your way onto our land. There’ll be no hiding and seeking here.”
Mare waited with hands on hips. Now that she put it in those words, Tess wondered if someone had toyed with her for sport. If that was the case, there would be a fight on the school playground tomorrow. And if it was Arnie Fetters, he could expect to go away from it with a bloody nose.
No answer came. Momma waited a whole minute before turning to look at Tess.
“I heard someone.” Tess looked at the hole in the ground, hoping in vain to see a child crawling off of the stairs.
“I know you did, Tessie, but whoever’s down there isn’t going to fess up to it. We’ll have to go back to the house and ring the police. Allons.”
With a gentle touch Momma took her by the shoulder and turned her around. Tess didn’t need convincing. She was happy to turn her back on the strangely-placed storm shelter. And she was happy Momma was with her too. To think, she had almost stepped down into that blackness alone.
“Don’t worry,” Mare said as she squeezed her. “I’ll still tell you a stor—”
Momma’s hand jerked away as she let out a guttural cry. Tess wheeled around to see her mother on her stomach, writhing in the dirt as she flew backward. Her dress bunched around her waist as some unseen thing yanked on her feet. Her fingers clawed the ground, raking at loose leaves and making trails in the dirt. Her eyes blazed panic.
“Tess!” Mare cried. Tess flung her small body toward the dark opening in the ground that wanted to swallow Momma. Nothing happened fast enough. Tess couldn’t make her legs react as rapidly as her heart. Her arms were pitifully short, her hands pushing through air like fish fighting the current. Tess’s index and middle fingers brushed the stony white knuckles of her momma’s left hand. Then Mare was ripped away, disappearing into blackness. Tess heard several hollow thumps as Mare Buckner tumbled down the steps. A scream came next, so awful and loud Tess thought she had to be in a dream.
“Momma!” she cried, crawling madly to the edge of the staircase. She saw movement like bugs crawling on the trees at night; a glistening shape one moment, a sense of liquid motion the next. She cried for her momma again and again. And then she saw her, or at least her hands, shaking as they came into the light.
They were much too white as they grabbed the lowest visible stair. Momma’s waxy face came into view and Tess screamed. Her chin and neck were red with blood. Momma’s eyes quivered in their sockets, but they bulged farther when they fell on Tess.
“Run,” Mare said, and the voice might have been the same raspy whisper she heard earlier. “Please, Tessie. Run!”
Mare’s gaze dropped as she gagged and vomited on the stairs, spraying blood over the mildewed wood. Something moved in the darkness, and Momma was yanked out of view.
A sickening, ripping sound followed.

* * * *

Abner Buckner sat on a workbench, staring at a broken well pump. Truth be told, he was staring through it more than at it now, letting his mind draw him somewhere far from the dank and musty barn. He imagined, as he often did, that he hadn’t been born into farming, and that his true talents lay elsewhere, perhaps as a Texas Ranger. He liked the idea of enforcing something, of carrying a weapon and being respected for it. He especially liked the idea of walking around in a uniform that wasn’t always spotted with dirt and grease stains.
Those thoughts vanished as the side door banged open, ripping him from his trance. “What the hell?” he barked, hoping his volume covered how startled he was.
Tess ran at him, communicating through a series of shrieking gasps. She said something about her Momma and a cellar and a voice. She grabbed him by his overall straps and yanked with unexpected strength, pulling him off the bench and into action. “Help me!” she screamed. “Help Momma!”
“Okay, damn it all. I’m a’coming.” He grabbed a scattershot rifle as Tess took off back into the forest. A moment later they were there, looking into the blackness. Abner fished a lighter from his pocket and squatted next to the opening.
“Honey?” he yelled, waving his lighter toward stairs. “Mare, you in there? Did you fall or somthin’?”
“It’s down there,” Tess said through her sobs. “Something hurt Momma.”
Abner braced the rifle in the crook of his arm and started down the stairs. The flicker of the lighter was barely enough to light his way. But he went down the stairs, seven in all, and came to a concrete floor. In the darkness he saw glimmers of half-rotted shelves lining the wall and old crates covered in thick coats of dust. What she didn’t see was his wife.
“Are you sure she went down here?” Abner asked, bending over to move the light across the floor. “I can’t even see her footprints in the dust.”
He glanced up at Tess, waiting for an answer. But her gaze was fixed on the wooden stairs. She peered at the grayish-green planks, her skin going gray and waxy all at once.
“The blood,” she whispered. “The blood is gone.”
Abner Buckner looked at his daughter’s rigid posture. She was on the verge of fainting, and he hadn’t the slightest notion why. But when he stopped calling for his wife, he heard something. It was soft and easy to miss amid the swaying tree branches, but the longer he listened, the more he thought the sound was there in the cellar with him.
Ticking—like the ticking of a clock.

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Interview with Regina Carlysle

2009-11-11T16:14:00.000-08:00

http://www.reginacarlysle.blogspot.com
http://www.threewickedwriters.blogspot.com
http://www.reginacarlysle.com

What is the difference in the writing styles of Regina Carlysle and Rita Thedford, if any?
You know Von, I don't think anyone has ever asked me that before. Rita (who oddly doesn't sell nearly as well as REGINA btw) always wrote HOT. For years, I tried to be published under my own name. Back then epublishing was a glimmer in someone's eye so NY was the only avenue to get your work out there. I was told over and over that, while my work was good, it was just too damn hot. Fortunately times changed and readers' tastes have evolved a bit! So while Rita writes a hot, hot story, Regina is much more explicit. It's really just about the WORDS. Rita is a little bit softer and Regina doesn't hesitate to use the f-word, the p-word, or the c-word. I actually don't write Rita titles anymore because, honestly, there just isn't time. Regina is verrrrry demanding.

Tell us three things about yourself that might be surprising.
Hmm. What? Are you trying to make me THINK today? I guess the most surprising thing would be that I am part Native American. Outwardly, I am a fluffy, blue-eyed blonde but my ancestors made their way to Oklahoma on the Cherokee Trail of Tears. I also can't watch GORY stuff. Makes me sick as a damn dog! And every nightmare I've ever had features RATS...ewwww.

Other than writing, what other professions have you done, and which was your least favorite?
I've done lots of things although, at the moment, it seems I've been writing forever. I have worked as a newspaper reporter and editor, did lectures on Native American culture and folklore, I was a tour guide and sold advertising. I was a public relations administrator for a local college. I've also done stinks as a babysitter (which I didn't enjoy a BIT). Think the job I hated the most was working for a flower shop when I was a teenager. I did deliveries in costume!!!! That damn bunny suit was soooo hot!

What do you bring to the table that is different, as far as erotic stories are concerned?
You will never see a 'maneater' heroine coming from Regina Carlysle. My heroines are soft inside and out, yet with a streak of independence and sassy attitude. She is a woman who longs for love and home and everything else she can grab from life. Yes, no doubt, she will learn a lot about her own sexuality from her hot alpha hero but she won't be the only one learning a lesson or two. My heroes are usually rough, tough Texans who exude sex appeal but deep inside, he shelters an insecurity or two. He might teach a lot of sexy lessons but he'll always learn something about himself as well. My characters will be people, first and foremost, who need each other and will do anything they must to stay together and resolve their issues. So many erotic novels are all about the sex. I have always believed that sex is only a part of the whole story. There must be a story and characters who reach the reader on an emotional level. This is what, to me, separates an erotic romance from porn. We want that edginess, passion, and yes, lust. BUT we also want love. I try to give my readers that.

Who are some of your favorite authors?
Too many to name really but I love J.R. Ward, Sherillyn Kenyon and Kresley Cole for their paranormal work. When I want to laugh and later hug the book and say...ahhhhhh...I read Susan Elizabeth Phillips and Sandra Hill. Their work just has soooo much heart and humor. For historical comfort reads, I adore Jayne Ann Krentz writing as Amanda Quick. Her heroines are different while being rather average women. Her heroines are a little eccentric for the times, intelligent, and do their own thing despite constraints of the Society of the day. They are never drop dead gorgeous. I get sick of reading about heroines who are too beautiful to be believed. Give me an average woman overcoming huge obstacles and WINNING.

Tell us about the exact moment you knew you had officially made it as an accomplished author.
I believe this just happened to me recently. Over the years, getting fan mail was the first indicator that people were actually reading and enjoying my work and I am just always 'over the moon' about that. Signing with Ellora's Cave was huge for me, too, because they are such a giant in the epublishing world. But I don't really think it hit me until I went to Romanticon (EC's first author/reader convention). I showed up thinking how fun it would be to meet my EC editor and cyber-friends I'd known for years but had never actually met. But to talk with actual fans of my work just blew me away. I thought...uh uh...you HAVE to be talking about someone else. Not ME!!!! I can't tell you how amazing that feeling was. Some showed up with copies of my books to sign and it just rocked my socks off! I get all teary-eyed just thinking about it.

How did Three Wicked Writers come together?
Three Wicked Writers came about completely by happenstance. I'd been on a few loop chats with Anne Rainey and Kelley Nyrae and the three of us really clicked personally. We began to chat off loop and just really liked and admired each other. Eventually we'd schedule author chats together and just had so much fun! Anne approached Kelley and I with the idea of doing a joint blog and Three Wicked Writers was born. We wanted to do something sassy and sexy yet be informative too. Sometimes we talk about our favorite reads or we'll discuss writers topics like rejection, reviews, ebook devices, or other industry news. We chat about what we like or DON'T like in the stuff we read and we often have no-holds-barred discussions about things that piss us off! Sometimes a little rant here and there is good for the soul!

1001 Nights with Shara Azod....Ares Nymph

2009-10-30T21:13:00.000-07:00

Genre: I/R Erotic Romance

Blurb:

Nika believes the mysterious man who tends his garden with such love deserves to be made immortal. As long as he spends eternity with her.

Ares, God of War, was just looking for a little down time. He found a delightful nymph to make his goddess instead.

Excerpt:

She was the one who should be in charge of this seduction. Giving up control could be very dangerous for a nymph. Should she give herself over to this man completely and still be found in his bed by the rays of Apollo's sun, she would be ensnared by him until some greater god decides to free her. It was a humiliating position for any demi-god to be in. A situation that led to enslavement in one of the greater gods temples on Mount Olympus. That was why what she was doing was heavily frowned upon. It was too easy to forget who and what one was when in the throes of passion. Most demi-gods in her position would simply take what they wanted and move on. Should she have gone to him in the light of day, dazzling him in her true form, she could have been in full control. But she hadn't wanted to merely use his body. This man fascinated her. Something about him called to her. His sad solitude was a lure that had surely hooked her as nothing else could. Loneliness was a burden Nika had carried since the day she became a wood nymph. She knew what it was to pour all the love and care she had inside into the fruits of the soil. There one's careful attention was rewarded with natures dazzling beauty.

"We will do this my way, Ares." She didn't sound nearly as forceful as she wanted. How could she when his emerald eyes gleamed with such promise? Her belly quivered at the promise the presence of the hot, smooth throbbing against her weeping cunt. "You are completely at mercy."

His eyes twinkled with amusement at her words. Again a twinge of doubt assaulted her. She had laced her voice with power, he just have acquiesced immediately. She could almost feel him forcing his body to relax. This shouldn't be. What manner of man was he? Unfurling her wings, she allowed all the essence of her godhood to bathe the room in soft, glowing light. No man could withstand the pure beauty of a nymph.

"You dare to defy me, mortal? I should fly away and leave you wanting."

"But you won't, will you my lovely little nymph?" Nika hesitated, her light dimming slightly. Who was this man? Some by-blow of one of the minor gods? "Show me your true form Nika."

"I am in my true form." Frustration laced ever syllable. This should not be.

"As you were before, little one. Before you served Gaia's forests. Show me your true form, love."

Nika's wings disappeared. Her eyes turned from the leaf green she had worn for so long to deep soulful brown. Green hair was replaced by ropes of braids falling to the small of her back coffee colored back. She transformed before she could stop herself. She sat perched on his groin her true self; Nika of Kemet, naked and exposed for his eyes.

"You're glorious." The whispered words were so full awe, Nika forgot the strangeness of the situation. "More dazzling than any goddess." She shivered as Ares ran a single fingertip down the valley between her breasts. He sat up, holding her close. "Stay just as you are, Nika the Magnificent. "

Purchase:

Lulu

Tag! You're Writ. Book 2

2009-10-29T22:37:00.000-07:00

Authors: Shara Azod, Dréa Riley and Laura Guevara, Reana Malori and Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh

Description: IR, BBW erotic romance

Price: print: $12.00, ebook: $6.40

Length: (33,807 words)

Release Date: 29 October 2009

Blurb:

This writing challenge involves two author teams. Authors Shara Azod has the pen first and “tags” it to author team Dréa Riley and Laura Guevara. Dréa and Laura tag author Reana Malori. Finally, Reana tags author team Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh. And thus, the game begins.

Purchase:

Lulu

Hot New Release by Pat Cromwell

2009-10-24T20:51:00.000-07:00

Romance: Urban Fantasy IR (BW/WM)

Blurb:

Ava Marie Moore believed in two things: love was a losing game and the world as she knew it was not coming to an end. Jefferson Arturo Matteo Nolan begged to differ. Not only was he out to change her mind about the virtues of love – specifically the steamy, sexy part - but he’s also determine to wise her up to the newly formed Department of Urban Wars, a government agency headed by her Uncle to save the people from the crime ridden streets of the city.

But Jefferson knew better. This new agency - DUW - was not the answer for peace and harmony as it had been touted, but was in fact a rogue department of Homeland Security hell bent on changing the world through manipulation, violence, and fear. Between his sexy banter and their steamy love play Ava’s quickly falters. Not only does Jefferson’s impossible good looks and machismo personality turn her limbs to mush, but the catastrophic changes in the city are positive proof that her lover was right all along. The world as they knew it was undeniably coming to an end.

It becomes a race against time to right a wrong perpetrated by her Uncle. The resistance is formed with three facts as a guide to control the mayhem that ensues: Ava is the key, the lives of three families must be irrevocably intertwined and time is not on their side. What they forfeit to save the people is enormous, especially for Jefferson.

Knowing it is only the beginning makes what he gives up the greatest sacrifice of all.

Excerpt:

“Artie…” She closed her eyes.

“The lunatics are running the asylum, Ava. Anyone against the Urban Wars is being exterminated. Not silenced, but exterminated. It’s only a matter of time before your uncle gets around to me.”

“He can’t have you.”

“Trust me; falling into his hands is not on my list of things to do. It’s like a bad version of Armageddon, out there.” Jefferson drew a deep breath, shook his head. “Contact with the world beyond the city’s boundary has ceased, a pseudo-military caravan patrols the streets in armored SUVs, and the police department-issued cars are now labeled DUW for Department of Urban Wars. Blue uniforms have been replaced with urban garb, and you can’t tell the good guys from the bad. The red-light district is barren; bums who once loitered outside the liquor store were the first to go, and children are escorted to and from school with armed guards, clean shaven and immaculately dressed thugs.”

“Martial law with a twist,” she said. The bitterness in her voice echoed his. “The last time I left the building, the most disturbing thing of all was the smell that loomed over the city, a rancid smell. It made me sick to my stomach.” She paused, then whispered, “He’s burning bodies, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” Jefferson’s response was quick.

Ava stood so close to Jefferson she could feel his uneven and labored breaths against her forehead. Her heart spluttered, and she drew a long, deep sigh of relief and joy when she felt his arms circle her waist. Finally, she was where she wanted to be from the minute he walked into the room—in his arms. Ava’s body trembled.

“Ava,” he said longingly. “Ava, Ava, Ava…” He held on to her, kissed her forehead, and caressed her face. She clutched the front of his shirt and buried her head against his chest, feeling safe for the first time in days. “I was so afraid you had been hurt. I was afraid I wouldn’t find you here.”

“Oh God, what you must have seen.” They held one another, and Ava would have gladly remained locked in his embrace. But she read in his eyes, the way he leaned against her for strength, that he was weary.

Purchase:

Red Rose Publishing

Pat's Website

Interview with Zetta Brown

2009-10-24T17:36:00.000-07:00

Logical Lust seems to have many genres of erotica. Is there any one genre that you consider off limits for you to write?

We're not interested in being PC to the point of paranoia where every word must be safety tested. Personally, I have no use for the PC Police or the Soul Patrol--those are people who decide if something or someone is "black enough."
However there are some grey areas these days with the popularity of shapeshifters, werewolves, and other sci-fi/fantasy story lines where, to some people, that may be seen as beastiality. We see it differently--but to quote my husband, Jim Brown, the owner of publishing house--"If someone is writing a story of a man sneaking into a safari park at night to 'ride the chimps,' then no, we're not having it!"

The following is taken direct from our Submission Guidelines:
Submissions containing story lines or factual events involving the following will not be accepted: rape or any non-consensual sexual acts, sex with persons under age 18, incest, bestiality, hate, racism, necrophilia, golden showers, scat/dirt play, or any other material subsequently deemed unsuitable for Logical-Lust.
However, these topics/issues may be related in reference to crimes or mentioned in passing as part of a character's experiences, but they may not be glamorized or vividly described for the purpose of titillation. Nevertheless, Logical-Lust reserves the right to reject submissions containing such material if we feel it's inappropriate.
All sexual content must have clear indication or implication that consent exists, especially in BDSM and role-playing story lines. Consent after-the-fact is not acceptable. Some erotic works can push boundaries and certain aspects of non-consent may be carefully included. But bear in mind, the editor’s decision will be final as to which submissions are acceptable. If in doubt, please send a query to editor(at)logical-lust.com.

Describe your process for writing.

In recent years, I've been listening to the voices in my head. I hear snippets of a conversation and visualize what kind of person or persons would talk that way. Many times I get an idea for a story just because I haven't been able to find one similar to read. I'll take notes and mull over ideas for days, weeks, or months before finally writing something down or typing on the computer. I love lists and use them to list possible character names, character descriptions and traits, settings, and other ideas. From these lists, and the bits of conversation/dialogue in my head, I flesh out a storyline.

How long have you been writing and if you decided to stop writing, what would be your fantasy job?

I wrote my first novel at the age of 10. It was called AZUL ISLAND and it was a romance novel mixing "The Blue Lagoon" and ISLAND OF BLUE DOLPHINS. From that moment on, I wanted to find a way to make a living from writing. If I wasn't able to write, I think my fantasy job would involve being independently wealthy from real estate with Donald Trump as my cabana boy.

Tell us about your current works in progress.

Actually, I have several. My next novel is MALICE, which is a mystery suspense with erotic(a) elements. I have several shorter projects including my contribution to the BadAzz Authors LMAO Series called OTC - Off the Chain and a story for the KEEPING UP WITH THE JONES'S. I'm also developing an idea for a paranormal erotica series and a literary fiction series so watch this space--that is to say--my website, www.zettabrown.com!

If you could only write one more story what would it be?

My fictional obituary.

Tell us what makes Zetta unique and stand out as an author.

I write more than one genre. Just because my first published novel is an erotic romance doesn't mean all of my subsequent novels will fall into the same field. I'm more than a dirty mind.

What is the most difficult part of writing? What is the most fulfilling part of writing?

The most difficult part is to stop working on it. I could write a hundred drafts but still would want to make changes and additions to the story after it's published. The most fulfilling part, in my opinion, is getting the first draft done because it represents the first time that the organization of all your thoughts and ideas have been pieced together into a completed (if not totally coherent) document.

Describe the feeling of having your first book published.

I couldn't say it was like giving birth--I don't have any children. But I will say it probably felt like the first time a mother leaves their child at school to fend for him/herself. The book is out there, available for public scrutiny, and now has to make a name for itself.You can't help but be scared, anxious, and proud.

Tell us about your association with the Badazz Authors.

I was approached by a woman, whom I later learned was the Von-Glorious, after my article, "Love is Stranger than Fiction: Tales of a Sistah in Scotland," appeared in the August 2008 Romance Slam Jam Newsletter. Von and Rolanda invited me to join Jeanie and Jayha's Yahoo! group, which proved to be a blast. Finally! A group of woman not put off by interracial relationships and were also wild, creative, and funny as hell. I guess J&J liked me and my style (and my application to the MFP!) enough to invite me into their new group, the BadAzz Authors. I've consider myself very lucky and fortunate, not only to be a part of the group but to know the other BAA authors and their fans. And I'm talking women AND men. THe Badazz Authors is a lively, diverse group and bound for success!

Zetta BrownEditor-in-Chief, LL-Publications/Logical-Lust Publications
http://www.ll-publications.com
http://www.logical-lust.com

Tag You're Writ....Book 1

2009-10-17T00:05:00.000-07:00

Description: IR, BBW erotic romance

Blurb:

It’s All Fun and Games until Someone Falls in Love by Laura Guevara and Dréa Riley

Jonica and Rachel have done most everything together. That includes growing up, going to school and procuring jobs. They are each other’s sounding board and protectors.

On top of the world, the only thing the two friends haven’t concurred is love. When life starts throwing curve balls will the friends be able to catch their men and hold on?

***
Hotter than the Hates of Elle by Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh

At 6’1” and 200 lbs, M. Elle Hamilton is a roughneck. Coming straight out of the woods and clay dirt roads of rural Mississippi, she is one of the few females who works in the oil fields of Texas. Her standard outfit might consist of steal-toed boots, cargo jeans, T-shirts, and a hardhat, but beneath the oil, dirt and sweat is nothing but woman. A woman with an arsenal that includes a double-barreled mouthful of ‘f*ck you’s and a Ph.D.

At thirty-three years of age, M. Elle Hamilton had lived long enough to accumulate a list of things she refused to acknowledge. Among those items were the fact that her parents had reproductive organs, Freaknik 1992, and her actual first name. Oh yeah, there was that one other thing: Marius Ermenrich, six feet eight inches tall, two hundred fifty pounds of motherfucker extraordinaire.

Marius was a whole lot of asshole wrapped in motherf*cker and drizzled with son of a b*tch. Though he spoke English perfectly, he insisted on speaking in his native tongue: sh*theadian, which was always delivered with that sarcasm-laced accent.

Marius Ermenrich was accustomed to the looks he got. Other males gave him a wide berth; females stopped to take a second look—and sometimes a third and fourth look. And then there was Elle Hamilton…who didn’t look at him at all if she could help it, and when she did it was with dismissal. He’d never had a woman react to him like that. A novel experience, it was a slight he couldn’t let pass, especially when he wanted her so desperately.

Excerpt Story 1:

From It’s All Fun and Games until Someone Falls in Love by Laura Guevara and Dréa Riley

Monday morning sneaked up on her. Adjusting her makeup, she walked back to her desk just in time to see the object of her lust in the break room and her favorite flirt buddy walking through the door. An idea was born in that moment. Much like a light bulb, a smile lit Rachel’s face.
Ben Wakefield had been delivering packages for the past three years and was a big flirt. Rachel loved their banter. Ben was funny as hell and a great sport.
“Hey baby, missed you last week. My day isn’t the same unless I get my daily dose of sexy,” Rachel teased as she walked over to him to sign for the packages.
“Oh, so I’m sexy again? I’ve been here three times last week, and you’ve been so busy batting them doe eyes at tall and ugly over there, you couldn’t even sign your own name,” Ben whispered conspiratorially to her. “Why, Ben Wakefield! You know you’re my numero uno. My first, my last, my…and he is not ugly. Don’t be jealous, baby; there is room enough for the both of you.”
“Girl, where is Jonica? You’re laying it on real thick, and I do not hear her shouting out for you to hush yet.”
“In the break room. Mami is still in the hospital, so if you want to talk to her you’d better hurry. Hey, you know you should go by and see her later. She could use a hunky man like you to speed her recovery.”
“Speed her recovery? No thank you! Jonica’s mom is always pinching my ass when she’s here. I’ll send her some flowers, but I am not about to be locked in a little room with that woman. She would take serious advantage of my delicate nature.”
“You do have such a nice ass, Ben—you should be honored. You don’t even want to know what she did to the guy before you. Well, since you’re here, how about you say something real sweet and make me feel better?”
“Make you feel better? You’re the one who’s been ignoring me!” Ben pouted but sent her a sly wink.
Laughing, she looked up to see Ben staring over her shoulder. Turning, Rob was staring intently at them. Rachel hoped Rob realized that her exchange with Ben was harmless and that she didn’t want Ben the way she wanted him.
Looking back at Ben, Rachel gave him back his computer pad. “Here you go, baby, all done.”
Ben didn’t take it. Instead, his eyes were locked with Rob’s. A little miffed, Rachel looked over her shoulder in search of Rob but saw him go back to the staff lounge. She thought about going to track him down and ask him what his problem was, but was distracted by Ben’s next comment.
“That man wants you, Rachel.”
“Who? Because I know for a fact that Rob doesn’t. He won’t even bring himself to talk to me, much less be in the same room with me.”
“That man wants you plain and simple. And that look he just gave was to warn me off.”
“The hell it was.” But as she watched Ben leave, his words played around in her head. Could it really be that he wanted her? Not yet, but he would. Nobody had ever said no to her. It was just a matter of time.
Going back to work, Rachel put both Rob and Ben out of her mind.

Excerpt from story 2:

From Hotter than the Hates of Elle by Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh:

Chapter One: Give ’em Elle

At thirty-three years of age, M. Elle Hamilton had lived long enough to accumulate a list of things she refused to acknowledge. Among those items were the fact that her parents had reproductive organs, Freaknik 1992, and her actual first name. Oh yeah, there was that one other thing: Marius Ermenrich, motherfucker extraordinaire.
Marius was a whole lot of asshole wrapped in motherfucker and drizzled with son of a bitch. Though he spoke English perfectly, he insisted on speaking in his native tongue: shitheadian, which was always delivered with that sarcasm-laced accent. Being that he was one of the few people her boss, Hal Fionnlaogh, could tolerate, she forced herself to be civil to him, which was accomplished only if he kept a minimum of two counties between them.
She might’ve been intimidated by him except for a few things. First, she’d grown up with Chaos (former Marine, former SWAT and co-holder of the ‘just give me a reason’ title) as a sister. Second, she was reared in a town so deep in Mississippi that the director of Deliverance would’ve been glad to hear something as civilized as banjo music. Third, she was six feet one inch tall and two hundred five pounds in her bare feet. Fourth, she was very good at her job, despite ending damn near every day splattered with oil from her hard hat to her steel-toed boots.
Just like she didn’t have the stomach for bullshit, she discovered she didn’t have the stomach for Marius Ermenrich. She might’ve felt bad for her hostile feelings towards the man, but she didn’t. He was like a lot of the males she’d first encountered in the business, except he was foreign. She wasn’t a xenophobe; she just tolerated homegrown assholes a lot better than imported assholes. Mr. Asshole Motherfucker Son-of-a-Bitch—along with hell, half of Texas, and all of Luxembourg—obviously had a problem with a woman being anywhere except beneath him in bed, but she was damn good at her job, so he could shut the fuck up, and if he didn’t like that he could kiss her whole entire ass.
***
At six feet eight inches tall, two hundred fifty pounds, Marius Ermenrich was accustomed to the looks he got. Other males gave him a wide berth; females stopped to take a second look—and sometimes a third and fourth look. And then there was Elle Hamilton…who didn’t look at him at all if she could help it, and when she did it was with dismissal. He’d never had a woman react to him like that. A novel experience, it was a slight he couldn’t let pass, especially when he spent a disproportionate amount of time thinking about the woman beneath the oil, sweat, dust and “fuck you’s.”
Built on a bigger scale than most women, he imagined she had a body that just didn’t quit. He imagined because it wasn’t like he ever got to see a whole lot of it, being her standard outfit was hardhat, cargo jeans, A&M or UT t-shirt, and steel-toed boots. He had no idea how long her hair was or how big her breasts were, but he knew how big her balls were. Truth be told, they were bigger than anybody’s he’d ever met. In a male-dominated world, Elle held her own and three or four others.
He respected that…and damn near every other thing about her, including her work ethic, her toughness, and her intellect. As much as he liked long hair on a woman and copious T&A, the one thing guaran-damned-teed to give him a hard-on was a woman with brains—who knew how to use them. Elle didn’t broadcast her credentials, but she didn’t have to. The other crew members bragged on her all the time. Those brains, that integrity and that right cross caused him to walk around hard for her all day and jerk off every night.
If all that wasn’t enough, then there was her queenliness. Despite what she did for a living; despite what she wore to work; despite the way her brown eyes shot ice to those who’d raised her ire, the title ‘Queen’ should have preceded her name, or perhaps ‘Empress.’ And if not either of those titles, than definitely ‘Mrs.’—and of course ‘Ermenrich’ would follow the ‘Hamilton’ in her name.
He liked Elle Hamilton—a whole lot. Like his morning cup of coffee, he needed his daily dose of cold shoulder. Quitting the office, he headed outside. Being that it was Friday and about five minutes to quitting time, he knew he had to step it up. Making good use of his height, he was standing right by her truck five minutes before she got there. Though she’d been sharing a good laugh with the other roughnecks, all traces of mirth left her face as soon as she spotted him. Being her usual ornery self, she ignored him. Walking around him, she unlocked her toolbox, threw her gear in, slammed it shut and climbed into the driver’s seat. And she did it all without sparing him a glance. Ah, he wondered when she’d snap and cuss him out like she’d done that first day they’d met.

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The One Who Got Sway (IR Erotic)

2009-10-16T22:28:00.000-07:00

Description: IR, contemporary romance, BW/WM, paranormal

Blurb:

You were introduced to Lightning Garaile in Next Door Favor (a short story in Shara and Friends Naughty Bites, volume 2 available at http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/shara-friends-naughty-bites-volume-two/7309622). You’ll meet her sisters Thunder and Maelstrom this fall … but what about the rest of their posse? Chicks who wear names so jacked, display intelligence so brilliantly, and pull off crazy so effortlessly, have to roll with some equally brazen women. Introducing a whole new posse … drum roll please… put your reading glasses on, get your iced tea ready and give it up for the FUNC (Fucked Up Name Club) Chapter of the MFP Posse. Stuff that adventures and legends were made of they will have you LYMFAO and feeling sorry for the guys that try and catch them.

So what do you get when you take a chick named Maverick Storm, a kilt-wearing Scotsman with a Southern-Russian-Scottish accent and a middle name of Zulu? You have THE ONE WHO GOT SWAY, the first book in the FUNC Posse.

Excerpt:

For all of his roughness, Caoin was nobody’s fool. Maverick didn’t know what he did; but she suspected that whatever it was, he was damn good at it. Those piercing eyes didn’t miss shit. He looked at Maverick and she knew he saw her, not the disguise. He saw right through her spectacles, half-assed ponytail, oversized shirts and sweatpants to the woman she was underneath.
Most people didn’t know she wore a disguise; they simply thought she was that fucked up. Caoin, however, wasn’t most people. She had no weapons against this man. The gift of gab she used as a sword and her sense of humor she used as a shield might as well have been papier-mâché because they crumbled in the wake of his blatant masculinity; fell apart in the face of his blazing sexuality; and dissipated in the presence of his “don’t fuck with me” vibe.
Maverick wanted Caoin and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. No matter how many times she pushed her dick switch—that button in a woman’s head that was pushed when anything with a dick enters the general vicinity, making her lose her whole damn mind—to the “off” position, every single time she thought about Caoin, every single time she heard his voice on the phone, every single time she saw his picture, it clicked on. And on the rare occasion when she saw that motherfucker in person…oh, damn! Her femininity kicked into overdrive; her thighs parted of their own accord; her moans poured from her mouth. Her body was on red alert and her internal circuit breaker didn’t even pretend it was going to do a damn thing.
Oh, she tried not wanting him, but that had worked about as well as trying to stop Southern cuisine from being fattening. So many things about him turned Maverick on and few of them were physical. His strength made her warm; his sense of humor made her heartbeat speed up; his sense of justice made her wet. And as much as she admired those traits and as much as she wanted to pretend they were what drew her to a man, the thing that turned Maverick on so much was Caoin’s blatant masculinity. He was a big, hard, meat-and-potatoes man who played by his own social rules. If his ass itched, he scratched it. If a party sucked, he left it, regardless for whom or what it was celebrating. If he didn’t like you, he told you. If he wanted to fuck you, he told you that too. Maverick liked that rawness, that lack of polish, that edginess. She liked it because it was real. He wasn’t acting hard or manly; he simply was that way. Damn it, it got to her. He invaded her fantasies and conquered her body without ever touching her.
She was his and he knew it. She was his and yet, he maintained his distance. She was his and yet, all he did was look at her with that fucking smirk—that “I have a big dick and I know you want me” smirk. And Maverick hated Caoin for it. Hated him because he knew what he did to her…knew keeping his distance stirred up her hunger…knew how out of control her cravings were. She wanted him, she wanted him, and she fucking had to have him. Her mind might try to resist him, but her pussy flooded in his presence. Her nipples hardened when she heard his voice. Her heart lub-dubbed when she thought of how he never half-assed anything. Caoin was unapologetically male, unapologetically flawed, and unapologetically sensual. Damn.
As much as Maverick wanted him, she would never go there. Some roads were best left untraveled. But Fate had decided otherwise. She was still a woman, Caoin was still a man, and her body wasn’t about to ever let her forget that.

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If You Can't Stand the Heat...Don't Start the Lickin'

2009-10-16T22:07:00.000-07:00

Description: IR, BBW erotic romance

Blurb:

Pacifica Hampton was going to kill, maim, and beat the sh*t out of Salomão “Salacious” Roraima, and it didn’t matter that he was her best friend…or that they were currently en route to the ER. It also didn’t matter that she was the reason that they were going to the ER. His fine a*s shouldn’t have snuck up on her and for that matter he shouldn’t be so damn fine. So it was all his fault—all of it, including the fact that it was 108 freaking degrees, so he could just shut up and bleed slower…and complain a little more quietly because she was hot, horny and him being half-naked wasn’t helping her disposition at all.

Despite the pain, Salomão couldn’t help but smile at his best friend Pac. Considering Pac’s ‘f*ck somebody up’ reflex and his affinity for being in Pac’s general vicinity, he wasn’t surprised he was in need of medical attention. He had more scrapes, bruises and cuts from her hand than the first nineteen years of his life had given him, but despite that, he wasn’t willing to stay away from her.

While in the ER, two doctors get them to see that the feeling they have for each other run deeper than just being best friends. Will Pac end up in county for inciting a riot before she admits it? Will Salacious end up in the ER again before he does what he’s been longing to do…lay claim to his woman.

Excerpt:

“Were you perchance trying to take advantage of me?”
“You wish,” she said.
“Yes, Pacifica, I do.”
“You can’t handle me—even in your dreams,” she threw back.
He didn’t respond to that verbally; he just smirked.
“Wipe that smirk off of your face,” she demanded.
“You can always try and make me wipe it off of my face,” he said, his deep voice sounding all kinds of hot, which did nothing to slow her racing heartbeat. Ah, she wanted to, but the only way she could think to wipe it off was to throw her pussy in his face, and though he had a full-size truck, they needed way more room than was available in the interior of the cab.
“When you’re better, I’ll take you up on that,” she said as she exited the truck.
“Knowing you will take me up on my offer, I’ll make sure to expedite my healing,” he said.
Walking around to his side, she waited beside the door so she could help him out.
“I’m perfectly capable of getting out of a truck on my own, Pac,” he said.
“You’re going to be perfectly capable of lying in a pool of ‘just got your ass whipped’ if you keep taking that fucking tone with me, Salacious.”
She was about to say more, but then he unfolded all of that hotness from the truck and backed her against the garage wall.
“I thought we already determined that I am physically superior,” he whispered in her ear.
Damn. Though she should be mad at his arrogance, she was too busy trying to convince her hips not to arch up into his hardness.
“Nothing to say?” he challenged her.
“Oh, I’ve got plenty to say. I’m simply searching for small words so you can understand what I’m saying,” she said.
“Ah, so feisty,” he said as he picked her up and headed to the door.
Did this motherfucker just pick her up…and make her nipples hard and pussy wet in the process? Oh, yes he fucking did. Being all benevolent and all, she decided to wait until they were in the coolness of the house before telling him off. That was her intention, but when they walked into the house, he didn’t put her down. Well, he put her down, but he didn’t let her go. Setting her atop the counter, he got all up in her personal space.
“Your eyes are flashing. Go ahead, Pacifica. Tell me off like you want to so I can spank you like you need,” he challenged.
“Da hell? Why are you suddenly coming on to me left, right and center? Did that quack job give you some kind of narcotic?”
“I’m not under the influence of anything, Pac. I’ve been coming on to you for the longest time. You simply haven’t noticed.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have been half-stepping with the come on, because if I’d noticed it I damn sure would’ve commented on it.”
“Perhaps you did notice but were too intimidated by my raw masculinity to do anything but run.”
“Well, maybe if you were a real man, you wouldn’t have let me run.”
“Do you know how much your spiciness turns me on? Most women are interested in pleasing me.”
Did this motherfucker just bring up other women? Oh, hell no. He did not make her wet and then talk about other women. Shoving him, she got pissed all over when he didn’t even have the decency to move back. If anything, he got closer. “I don’t want to hear shit about your other bitches, Salacious.”
“There haven’t been any other women,” he said.
“Since when?” she asked. “Yesterday?”
“Since the evening we went to my favorite restaurant.”
His admission stopped her cold. “That was five years ago.”
“Believe me, I am aware of just how long ago it was.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
“No hand jobs, no blow jobs, no heavy petting, no—”
He cut her off. “Nothing but my hand on my cock, wishing it was your hand, your mouth, or your tight body I was pleasuring.”
Oh shit. He wasn’t lying. And she was going to need two showers…one to wash off the sweat and another to get her coochie under control. Gathering herself, she wondered if the air-conditioning was working, because Salacious had a sister sweating.
“I’ll let you run…for now,” he said.
“I don’t run from shit, Salacious, especially an injured opponent.”
“Injured or no, I am still more man that you are accustomed to handling,” he said as he lifted her from the counter and set her on her feet.
“Please,” she said as she marched from the room. Even though she needed to put distance between her and Salacious in the worst way before she found herself spread-eagled on his bed and stuffed full of hot, Brazilian cock, her conscience wouldn’t simply let her run. Turning, she asked if he needed help.
“Do you need help showering?”
“I can manage the shower, but I might need help with my hair,” he admitted.
“Sweet, I’ve been waiting for a chance to play with your hair. If I’d known all I had to do was brain you with something, I would’ve done it a long time ago,” she said.
“Which is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
“Spoilsport. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you in your room.”
“Make it twenty. I’ll be there with…”
“Bells on?” she finished.
“With nothing on,” he corrected her and gently squeezed her ass.
Oh shit. She was in trouble—and for once, the prospect of getting into trouble didn’t bother her at all. She couldn’t wait to get into that shower with Salacious and in the bed with Salacious and into Salacious…just like he’d gotten into her.

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Book 2 of the Naughty Nanny Series......

2009-10-04T17:44:00.000-07:00

Genre: IR Erotic

ISBN: 978-0-557-13068-9

Blurb:

Jake Dixon is a man with a secret preoccupation: he loves black women. Unfortunately, he also has an allergy to cat dander, and when his white girlfriend drags him to her aunt's house, Jake pays the price, and gets rushed to the hospital with an asthma attack. The only way he gets to go home, is if he has a nanny. And his agent Darryl Strawberry sets him with not just any nanny, but a beautiful ebony goddess in the form of Carmen Rose. But Jake has no idea that Darryl's secretary, Samantha Smith, has the hots for Jake. One thing is for sure -- Jake will get taken of, real good! The question is, which one of these Black Beauties will get to him first?

Excerpt:

Why did I agree to do this?

Carmen considered the whole situation, as she looked out the car window, at the buildings going by. Her thoughts were flowing by just as fast.

Apart from the fact that this would be a perfect opportunity to get to know her favorite writer better, it wasn't as if she needed the job with her bills all caught up and her rent paid. She was in good shape, financially speaking, much better than others in the apartment complex.

Matter of fact, she called the agency Friday afternoon and told them to take her off the active list for a week. She had agreed to be a nanny for Jake, and now she had a job to do.

Carmen said, “So, just what kind of house does a bachelor live in, anyway?”

Samantha parked, and said, “That kind.”

Carmen felt her chin brush the floor of the car. The house wasn’t exactly a mansion, but it was nice. Straight out of a music video nice.

Samantha said, smiling, “I’ll wait outside while you get his stuff.”

“Okay. You got his house keys?”

Samantha reached into her purse and handed them to Carmen. “He says his bedroom in the back of the house.”

“Okay. Be just a minute.”

Carmen got out of the car, and slowly walked up the driveway. Her breathing was quick and shallow, and she didn’t even know why. She found the right key, slid it easily into the lock and turned it.

Carmen opened the door.

She carefully stepped inside the house, her boot heels clicking on the hardwood floor, and looked around. Although it wasn’t the largest house, it seemed huge, thanks to the high ceilings, white walls, and skylights.

She smiled. She could definitely tell a bachelor lived in this house. The place was clean, to be sure, but not in the same way it would have been if a woman had cleaned it.

On her right, was a modular sectional couch, upholstered in brown fabric, well worn but comfortable, facing a large flat panel TV against the wall, and lots of movies, sitting on a small wooden table, all bordered by a huge rug.

There was a plastic bookshelf with lots of paperback books, magazines, and more movies. To the left of the door was a small dinner table. A small white cozy kitchen was in the corner, with spanking white appliances and white tile floor. In between, a hallway led to the back.

She dropped her red crochet purse on the couch, and went further into the house.

Carmen leisurely walked down the hallway, her boots clicking solidly, in a nice unbroken, unhurried cadence. She stopped, to look in a little den in the back of the living room, where he had his computer. Once again, she could tell a guy lived here. There were several games, two different game controllers, and a slamming speaker system. She stopped again to look in the bathroom; spanking white everything. Toilet on the right. Sink on the left. Bathtub with a showerhead.

Finally, she walked the rest of the way down the hall, to find the bedroom. She briefly glanced to her right. Sure enough, there was the guest bedroom, with a bed and dresser, competing for space with a compact washer and dryer.

She smiled wider as she walked into Jake‘s bedroom. It was an unexpectedly cozy bedroom. In the middle was a queen-sized cabinet bed with lots of nooks and crannies, the head up against the far wall under a window. A nightstand sat on the right as she came in with an alarm clock and more books. Way to the left, was a closet. On the right was a dresser.

On the bed sat the clothesbasket he‘d mentioned. She fought down the urge to look around the place, and instead concentrated on the task, telling herself she would have plenty more time to look around later.

She still didn‘t know why she‘d accepted this job. But one thing she did know, was that this was going to be fun.

For a period of almost a whole week, depending on Jake, of course, she would have the opportunity to get to know him better. Samantha was right, it would be the ultimate fan trip; she would get to see how he writes, how he gets his ideas, where he gets his ideas from, and, most of all, find out why he likes black women so much.

And she would get to live in his house. If only for a few days.

The sound of high heels clicking hastily down the hallway brought Carmen back to the present moment.

Samantha came down the hall, impatience in every click of her heels, and stopped at the doorway. “Girl, he doesn’t need a suit. Just grab some sweats and let’s go!”

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