|
An accidental meeting and a misunderstanding lead to a life-altering connection.
When chubby gamer Oliver receives a job offer from the best boutique game developer in the country, he leaves his family and his less than spectacular existence in Oklahoma without a second’s hesitation. Determined to change more than his career and his geography, Oliver implements a plan to finally land a boyfriend. Step one is improving his skills in the bedroom. A life that looks perfect on paper, but feels empty in reality. Attractive, successful, charismatic Jaime Snow has a life other people envy. An accidental meeting, a misunderstanding, and falling in love. Building the lifetime relationship they both desperately crave will require trust, time, and a little misunderstanding. |
assassin for him, designating the woman who coordinated the attack as his first target. While he prepares to exact his revenge, he is assigned to the care of another agent in the Scorpions’ base. Ro is brash and outspoken, yet aspects of her character remain enigmatic. Despite declaring personal relationships useless in the cold, cruel world in which they live, she invites herself into Callum’s bedroom more nights than not. In her coaching, she pushes him physically, emotionally, and sexually to mold him into the killer the organization desires. During his quest to hunt down his nemesis, more and more of Callum’s biological body parts fail and must be replaced. In addition to dealing with his grief, he struggles to come to terms with his new appearance, functions, and responsibilities. Will he be able to transform himself into what Ro and the Midnight Scorpions need, yet still retain his humanity? - Plotting vs. Pantsing - Or, One Book, Three Subplots Spend enough time around authors and this debate is bound to come up: when you’re writing a piece of fiction, do you have a detailed outline and a strong idea of where the story is going to go (“plotting”), or do you just let the words flow onto the page and wind up wherever they take you (“pantsing”)? There’s no one right answer, and every author has their habits and processes that work best for them. Me, I’m probably somewhere in the middle, though leaning toward the pantsing side. Sometimes I make a basic chapter outline and maybe jot down some notes at the bottom of it for upcoming scenes since I always write in order. However, I’ve written entire novels without doing any sort of concrete plotting for it. Don’t get me wrong, I usually have a general idea of where I’m going, and planning out my ideas definitely keeps me awake when I’m trying to fall asleep at night. There have been times, though, when my primary focus was getting the words on the page as quickly as possible, and then I figured I’d worry about the rest later on. That said, Disintegration was one of those books where I needed an outline. A very brief outline, sure, but an outline nonetheless. As it’s a full-length novel, there’s a lot going on within its pages, and there are three distinct plot threads that needed to be woven together in a way that would make sense and provoke the desired response. One of the main themes of the book is Callum’s transformation into a cyborg and his reactions as more and more of his own body needs to be replaced with artificial parts. It’s a gradual progression, and I had to get the timing right, especially toward the end where little of the original Callum remains except for his mind. This part is also heavy on the sci-fi, and I wanted to avoid any long, drawn-out explanations or info dumps in order to keep everything moving along. Next, the aspect of the plot that really drives the story forward is Callum’s quest for revenge against the woman who orchestrated the attack which left him so badly injured. It would be a short and boring book if he just walked up to her and killed her, so I mapped out everything from his new colleagues first planting the idea in his head to his various plans to accomplish his goal. Last, but certainly not least, the romance plot! The relationship between Callum and Ro deviated from my usual storylines, in that they start off as casual “friends with benefits” (or so Ro likes to convince herself), and then their connection deepens into something more. I won’t give away too much about the ending, but the impact of the book’s climactic scenes relies on the love between them, and I wanted to elicit a similarly strong reaction from the reader. While each separate plot line has its own trajectory, there are instances, of course, when they influence and affect each other. Plotting all of it was a challenge at times, but I know I couldn’t have done my story justice if I didn’t have a solid plan for the way I wanted key events to play out. If this combination of sci-fi, action and adventure, and sizzling romance sounds intriguing to you, check out Disintegration today! - GIVEAWAY - Prize One - Paperback Copy  Prize Two - gift card  Prize Three - ebook
|
 | Drunk on love. Like a well-aged whiskey, master distiller and old-money entrepreneur Malone Kensington is elegant and refined. Unfortunately, he’s also a perfectionist who is more dedicated to the success of his generations-old company than his own love life. That company needs a public spokesman. What Colton Hale lacks in sophistication, he more than makes up for with the charisma that’s allowed him to survive on the street from a young age and charm his way into the lucrative—if overwhelming—public position at the Kensington Distillery. When Mal takes Colt under his wing, hoping to polish off his |
rough edges, opposites attract and a passionate romance blossoms despite the differences in age and background.
But can it survive a Kensington Board of Directors who believe Colt is nothing but a gold digger and a kidnapper determined to profit from the love of Mal’s life—dead or alive?
But can it survive a Kensington Board of Directors who believe Colt is nothing but a gold digger and a kidnapper determined to profit from the love of Mal’s life—dead or alive?
- Sneak Peek -
Whisky or Whiskey?
Being an author has some wonderful side-perks. One of my personal favorites is the research needed to flesh out locations and professions used in a story. I’m not a big drinker and when I began writing Whiskey and Moonshine I knew next to nothing about the process of creating these adult beverages.
The first thing I had to learn was how to properly spell the name of the spirits that were going to play an important part of the plot!
I’m sure you’ll notice the ‘e’ in whiskey. Interesting thing that ‘e’. Most of the world spells whiskey without that ‘e’, so it’s whisky to you in Canada, most of Europe, Scotland of course, and Japan. The reason for the difference is partially because of how the Gaelic language was translated to English way back when.
However, that’s not the complete tale of the badass ‘e’, and let’s face it the word whiskey with an ‘e’ looks so much more badass than when that ‘e’ is left out. There’s a much more important reason other than aesthetics. Back in the mid-eighteen-hundreds Ireland led the world in the sale of whiskey, producing something to the tune of 70% of the stuff world-wide.
Even the big Irish distillers used the spelling whisky.
There was no ‘e’ back then.
Then along came the Spirits Act passed in 1860 by the Gladstone government. For the first time whisky blends could be created using grain whisky and single malts, which was a big deal to distillers. This led to the Scotch whisky blenders to produce a very similar drink, but at a lower cost. That combined with their awesome marketing skills made a real dent in the Irish distillers’ sales. One thing led to another the Irish distillers began using ‘whiskey’ to set themselves apart from the Scottish spirit makers.
Sneaky them, creating controversy. And we all know controversy, like sex, sells.
Across The Pond (aka in the New World of North America) there were similar changes in the whisky industry. We Americans enjoy our Irish whiskey and like our Irish counterparts we’re a rebellious lot. To exploit the perceived higher quality of Irish whiskey and since it was more popular in the US, distillers here did the same thing. They added a badass ‘e’. Adding that ‘e’ also helped differentiate US from Canadian whisky producers.
There’s a whole lot more, such as the difference between Bourbon and Whiskey, but that’s a subject for another post.
What does all this have to do with my book, Whiskey and Moonshine, aside from the title? Well, since you asked! The words are representative of the main characters. Mal Kensington is the whiskey half of Whiskey and Moonshine. He’s a distiller, like his father, grandfather and generations before. He’s old money, but that doesn’t stop him from going against the grain, finding his own path and fighting for what he wants.
Like that ‘e’, he’s a little bit badass.
Here’s a modest taste of Malone Curtis Kensington, owner and master distiller of Kensington’s Distillery and Stillhouse.
~|~|~|~
Blasting around a bend, Mal nearly ran Colt over. He’d slowed to a brisk walk, head down and arms hugging himself. When the truck’s tires squealed, Colt jerked sideways.
Mal put the truck in park and rolled down the window. “Colt, you can’t walk all the way back.”
“Oh, bullshit. I’ve walked across a city before.”
“There are bears and coyotes and cougars.”
“I lived on the streets for ten years and dealt with gangs. I’ll survive,” Colt snapped.
“For God’s sake, Colt, you smell like roast beef sandwiches and three types of cheese. Every carnivore for a hundred miles is going to want a piece of that,” Mal shouted.
A deer bounded out of the woods and darted in front of Colt, then bolted across the road and into the woods on the other side. Colt yelped and jumped to the side.
“Whatever is chasing that deer isn’t going to be so picky as to pass up you and chase it,” Mal called. It was a mean and crappy thing to do, but he reasoned Colt wouldn’t know any better.
Colt turned and stared at the woods for a few seconds before running to the truck and scrambling into the passenger seat. He wrapped both arms around himself and stared straight ahead.
Mal put the truck into gear and started driving. “Colt, I—” Colt turned his head and glared at Mal, silencing him. What was he going to say? He wanted to protect Colt, not see him hurt, yet that’s exactly what he’d done. After a few minutes of silence, he knew what to say. “There is nothing in that document that can’t be negotiated. Every contract can be negotiated.”
“Signing it can be negotiated?” Colt sniped. When Mal pressed his lips together and focused out the window at the road, Colt mumbled, “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
“Will you just read the whole thing? For me? Please?”
Colt shifted so his back was to Mal and stared out the passenger window for the rest of the ride home. The second Mal drove down the drive, Colt grabbed the papers, opened his door, and dropped out of the still-moving truck. He landed on his feet and hurried into the house.
Being an author has some wonderful side-perks. One of my personal favorites is the research needed to flesh out locations and professions used in a story. I’m not a big drinker and when I began writing Whiskey and Moonshine I knew next to nothing about the process of creating these adult beverages.
The first thing I had to learn was how to properly spell the name of the spirits that were going to play an important part of the plot!
I’m sure you’ll notice the ‘e’ in whiskey. Interesting thing that ‘e’. Most of the world spells whiskey without that ‘e’, so it’s whisky to you in Canada, most of Europe, Scotland of course, and Japan. The reason for the difference is partially because of how the Gaelic language was translated to English way back when.
However, that’s not the complete tale of the badass ‘e’, and let’s face it the word whiskey with an ‘e’ looks so much more badass than when that ‘e’ is left out. There’s a much more important reason other than aesthetics. Back in the mid-eighteen-hundreds Ireland led the world in the sale of whiskey, producing something to the tune of 70% of the stuff world-wide.
Even the big Irish distillers used the spelling whisky.
There was no ‘e’ back then.
Then along came the Spirits Act passed in 1860 by the Gladstone government. For the first time whisky blends could be created using grain whisky and single malts, which was a big deal to distillers. This led to the Scotch whisky blenders to produce a very similar drink, but at a lower cost. That combined with their awesome marketing skills made a real dent in the Irish distillers’ sales. One thing led to another the Irish distillers began using ‘whiskey’ to set themselves apart from the Scottish spirit makers.
Sneaky them, creating controversy. And we all know controversy, like sex, sells.
Across The Pond (aka in the New World of North America) there were similar changes in the whisky industry. We Americans enjoy our Irish whiskey and like our Irish counterparts we’re a rebellious lot. To exploit the perceived higher quality of Irish whiskey and since it was more popular in the US, distillers here did the same thing. They added a badass ‘e’. Adding that ‘e’ also helped differentiate US from Canadian whisky producers.
There’s a whole lot more, such as the difference between Bourbon and Whiskey, but that’s a subject for another post.
What does all this have to do with my book, Whiskey and Moonshine, aside from the title? Well, since you asked! The words are representative of the main characters. Mal Kensington is the whiskey half of Whiskey and Moonshine. He’s a distiller, like his father, grandfather and generations before. He’s old money, but that doesn’t stop him from going against the grain, finding his own path and fighting for what he wants.
Like that ‘e’, he’s a little bit badass.
Here’s a modest taste of Malone Curtis Kensington, owner and master distiller of Kensington’s Distillery and Stillhouse.
~|~|~|~
Blasting around a bend, Mal nearly ran Colt over. He’d slowed to a brisk walk, head down and arms hugging himself. When the truck’s tires squealed, Colt jerked sideways.
Mal put the truck in park and rolled down the window. “Colt, you can’t walk all the way back.”
“Oh, bullshit. I’ve walked across a city before.”
“There are bears and coyotes and cougars.”
“I lived on the streets for ten years and dealt with gangs. I’ll survive,” Colt snapped.
“For God’s sake, Colt, you smell like roast beef sandwiches and three types of cheese. Every carnivore for a hundred miles is going to want a piece of that,” Mal shouted.
A deer bounded out of the woods and darted in front of Colt, then bolted across the road and into the woods on the other side. Colt yelped and jumped to the side.
“Whatever is chasing that deer isn’t going to be so picky as to pass up you and chase it,” Mal called. It was a mean and crappy thing to do, but he reasoned Colt wouldn’t know any better.
Colt turned and stared at the woods for a few seconds before running to the truck and scrambling into the passenger seat. He wrapped both arms around himself and stared straight ahead.
Mal put the truck into gear and started driving. “Colt, I—” Colt turned his head and glared at Mal, silencing him. What was he going to say? He wanted to protect Colt, not see him hurt, yet that’s exactly what he’d done. After a few minutes of silence, he knew what to say. “There is nothing in that document that can’t be negotiated. Every contract can be negotiated.”
“Signing it can be negotiated?” Colt sniped. When Mal pressed his lips together and focused out the window at the road, Colt mumbled, “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
“Will you just read the whole thing? For me? Please?”
Colt shifted so his back was to Mal and stared out the passenger window for the rest of the ride home. The second Mal drove down the drive, Colt grabbed the papers, opened his door, and dropped out of the still-moving truck. He landed on his feet and hurried into the house.
- GIVEAWAY -
Prize One from Elizabeth Noble
Prize Two from The TBR Pile
Prize Three
To ENTER you MUST comment below:
1. What was your favorite part of the guest post by Elizabeth Noble?
2. Have you read any of Elizabeth Noble's book and which ones?
For extra entries share this post using the Facebook and Twitter buttons below. Good luck!
1. What was your favorite part of the guest post by Elizabeth Noble?
2. Have you read any of Elizabeth Noble's book and which ones?
For extra entries share this post using the Facebook and Twitter buttons below. Good luck!
WINNERS:
Gift card from Elizabeth Noble: James
TBR gift card: Jane
Prize list book: Lisa
 | Aiden Blackheart is the most powerful werewolf ever born. He’s a bit surprised when he discovers his mate is an ordinary meter maid with some baggage. Okay, a lot of baggage, which includes a million-dollar bounty on her head, and she’s not quite human. What is she? Even she doesn’t know. Like to laugh? Love mayhem? Do hot, sexy love scenes turn you on? Wanna know if a not quite human meter maid can find love with a billionaire Alpha wolf. Or will her enemies cut their romance short? |
- SNEAK PEEK -
A black Ford F450 truck tore through the caution tape and skidded to a stop in front of us.
I groaned as none other than the big, bad wolf himself jumped out in an expensive gray suit. Did the man even own a pair of jeans?
Blackheart’s eerie silver blue gaze swept over us, and he wrinkled his nose.
“Cow manure,” I supplied.
Aiden held out his hand. “Come here, Tommy.”
Bright yellow sparkles danced around Tommy as he transformed back into a naked, four-year-old boy. He scampered over to the alpha. “Bad man throwed rocks at me,” he said pointing at cactus guy. “The lady stopped him. Make him fall in cactus.”
“Is that true?” Aiden’s voice was a low growl.
I nodded and stared at the suddenly clean kid. How in the hell had that happened and would it work on me?
Cactus guy’s face filled with rage. “You goddamned dogs think you’re better than us humans. Well, you’re not. Show ‘em, Hank.”
“Bad idea,” I warned.
The tanker truck driver turned the nozzle on Blackheart and blasted him with cow dung. The force of the spray knocked Aiden back a step and coated him in a thick layer of black goop.
Tommy hid behind me. “They in trouble.”
“Yep.” Blackheart’s pricey suit and boots were history.
“Not so fancy now, are ya,” Cactus guy hooted.
I sighed. Testosterone should be outlawed.
The fury in Blackheart’s eyes was terrifying. Poof! In a blinding flash of light, he metamorphosed into a three-hundred-pound black wolf, with glowing silver eyes and enormous fangs. He was like something out of a wicked fairy tale. Aiden howled his fury.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. It took everything I had not to run screaming back to Idaho. Blackheart beat the General hands down in the scary-as-hell department.
Cactus guy and his buddy shrieked like little girls and quickly locked themselves in the cab of the tanker.
Tommy giggled when Aiden leapt on the hood of the truck and raked his razor-sharp claws down the metal. Screech!
I’m glad someone found it amusing.
“We called the police,” the tanker driver yelled. “You’re one dead dog,”
In the distance sirens sounded.
Once the police arrived this was going to turn into a major cluster fuck.
“Policemen don’t like us,” Tommy said sadly.
I patted his head. “The police don’t like me either, sweetie.”
“Where my momma?”
“Not far.” My gaze settled on Aiden’s truck. He had left it running. He wouldn’t mind me borrowing it to get Tommy to safety, would he? I tugged at my muck-soaked shirt. Okay, I might get some shit in his pretty truck, but hey, he could have it detailed. Right? “Get in the truck, Tommy. I’ll take you to your momma.”
With a bounding leap, Tommy landed on the front seat.
Screech! Screech! Blackheart turned the tanker’s hood and engine to scrap metal.
Holy crap! I scrambled in the truck. Fuck! I couldn’t reach the damn gas pedal. I shot a quick glance at Aiden. He was ripping the driver’s door off the tanker. “Put your seatbelt on Tommy.”
“Kay.”
Moving the seat forward, I put the truck in gear, and floored it. I glanced at the side mirror. The monstrous wolf was giving chase. At least he wasn’t eating the idiots.
Thud! The truck shook violently.
I looked in the rearview mirror. One pissed off wolf glared back at me. Swell.
“Momma! That’s momma!” Tommy pointed at Sally who was standing in front of a barber shop.
“I see her.” I pulled over and watched two police cars race by. How they missed the big ass wolf riding in the back was beyond me. I leaned over and opened the passenger door. “Go to your mom.”
Tommy jumped out.
Putting the truck in park, I slid after him, leaving a thick trail of stinky, black goop over the white leather seats.
There was a bright flash of light and the wolf instantaneously transformed into Aiden. He grabbed the car door, stopping me from leaving. My eyes widened. Damn, not only was he shit free he was naked. I clenched my hands to keep from touching him. He oozed a raw sex appeal. “Keys are in the ignition and there’s not a scratch on it.”
Aiden snorted. “You forgot to mention the rancid stench of manure and the permanently stained leather.”
“Gee, I’m only human, I can’t do the instant clean thing like y’all can.” I shoved at the door. It didn’t budge. “I thought the most important thing was getting Tommy out of there before you ate the morons.”
“I wouldn’t have eaten them,” Aidan shot back.
“Uh huh.” My gaze roved over his lightly furred chest and moved down a flat abdomen rippling with muscles. Holy cow! His dick was huge.
Aiden growled, “Like what you see?”
“Well, it’s like this. If you’re gonna put your junk on display, a girl’s gonna look.” I planted my filthy hands on his chest and seductively rubbed them up and down. “As much as I’d like to stay and play, I need to wash up.
A fire truck raced by with its air horn blaring.
“And you’ll want to put some pants on before the police catch up with you.”
He glanced at the black goop smeared across his chest. ‘You like dangerous men, don’t you, darlin’?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been dealing with a dangerous man all my life.” I ducked under his arm and made a mad dash across the street.
“A wolf?” Aiden shouted after me.
I paused in front of Lenny’s Burgers. “My father.”
I groaned as none other than the big, bad wolf himself jumped out in an expensive gray suit. Did the man even own a pair of jeans?
Blackheart’s eerie silver blue gaze swept over us, and he wrinkled his nose.
“Cow manure,” I supplied.
Aiden held out his hand. “Come here, Tommy.”
Bright yellow sparkles danced around Tommy as he transformed back into a naked, four-year-old boy. He scampered over to the alpha. “Bad man throwed rocks at me,” he said pointing at cactus guy. “The lady stopped him. Make him fall in cactus.”
“Is that true?” Aiden’s voice was a low growl.
I nodded and stared at the suddenly clean kid. How in the hell had that happened and would it work on me?
Cactus guy’s face filled with rage. “You goddamned dogs think you’re better than us humans. Well, you’re not. Show ‘em, Hank.”
“Bad idea,” I warned.
The tanker truck driver turned the nozzle on Blackheart and blasted him with cow dung. The force of the spray knocked Aiden back a step and coated him in a thick layer of black goop.
Tommy hid behind me. “They in trouble.”
“Yep.” Blackheart’s pricey suit and boots were history.
“Not so fancy now, are ya,” Cactus guy hooted.
I sighed. Testosterone should be outlawed.
The fury in Blackheart’s eyes was terrifying. Poof! In a blinding flash of light, he metamorphosed into a three-hundred-pound black wolf, with glowing silver eyes and enormous fangs. He was like something out of a wicked fairy tale. Aiden howled his fury.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. It took everything I had not to run screaming back to Idaho. Blackheart beat the General hands down in the scary-as-hell department.
Cactus guy and his buddy shrieked like little girls and quickly locked themselves in the cab of the tanker.
Tommy giggled when Aiden leapt on the hood of the truck and raked his razor-sharp claws down the metal. Screech!
I’m glad someone found it amusing.
“We called the police,” the tanker driver yelled. “You’re one dead dog,”
In the distance sirens sounded.
Once the police arrived this was going to turn into a major cluster fuck.
“Policemen don’t like us,” Tommy said sadly.
I patted his head. “The police don’t like me either, sweetie.”
“Where my momma?”
“Not far.” My gaze settled on Aiden’s truck. He had left it running. He wouldn’t mind me borrowing it to get Tommy to safety, would he? I tugged at my muck-soaked shirt. Okay, I might get some shit in his pretty truck, but hey, he could have it detailed. Right? “Get in the truck, Tommy. I’ll take you to your momma.”
With a bounding leap, Tommy landed on the front seat.
Screech! Screech! Blackheart turned the tanker’s hood and engine to scrap metal.
Holy crap! I scrambled in the truck. Fuck! I couldn’t reach the damn gas pedal. I shot a quick glance at Aiden. He was ripping the driver’s door off the tanker. “Put your seatbelt on Tommy.”
“Kay.”
Moving the seat forward, I put the truck in gear, and floored it. I glanced at the side mirror. The monstrous wolf was giving chase. At least he wasn’t eating the idiots.
Thud! The truck shook violently.
I looked in the rearview mirror. One pissed off wolf glared back at me. Swell.
“Momma! That’s momma!” Tommy pointed at Sally who was standing in front of a barber shop.
“I see her.” I pulled over and watched two police cars race by. How they missed the big ass wolf riding in the back was beyond me. I leaned over and opened the passenger door. “Go to your mom.”
Tommy jumped out.
Putting the truck in park, I slid after him, leaving a thick trail of stinky, black goop over the white leather seats.
There was a bright flash of light and the wolf instantaneously transformed into Aiden. He grabbed the car door, stopping me from leaving. My eyes widened. Damn, not only was he shit free he was naked. I clenched my hands to keep from touching him. He oozed a raw sex appeal. “Keys are in the ignition and there’s not a scratch on it.”
Aiden snorted. “You forgot to mention the rancid stench of manure and the permanently stained leather.”
“Gee, I’m only human, I can’t do the instant clean thing like y’all can.” I shoved at the door. It didn’t budge. “I thought the most important thing was getting Tommy out of there before you ate the morons.”
“I wouldn’t have eaten them,” Aidan shot back.
“Uh huh.” My gaze roved over his lightly furred chest and moved down a flat abdomen rippling with muscles. Holy cow! His dick was huge.
Aiden growled, “Like what you see?”
“Well, it’s like this. If you’re gonna put your junk on display, a girl’s gonna look.” I planted my filthy hands on his chest and seductively rubbed them up and down. “As much as I’d like to stay and play, I need to wash up.
A fire truck raced by with its air horn blaring.
“And you’ll want to put some pants on before the police catch up with you.”
He glanced at the black goop smeared across his chest. ‘You like dangerous men, don’t you, darlin’?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been dealing with a dangerous man all my life.” I ducked under his arm and made a mad dash across the street.
“A wolf?” Aiden shouted after me.
I paused in front of Lenny’s Burgers. “My father.”
- Giveaway -
Prize one from Gail Koger
Prize Two from The TBR Pile
 Prize Three | Prize Four |
To ENTER you MUST comment below:
1. What was your favorite part of the sneak peek of Blackheart's Treasure?
2. Have you read Gail Koger before?
Good luck!
WINNERS:
$15 from Gail Koger: Anna L.
$10 from The TBR Pile: Roberta M
Prize list book: Cheryl and Carletta
 | Ameena has never been able to forget what she endured on her last assignment before she left the agency. The only female agent to live through what The Executioner did to his victims, she still bears the scars, both physical and psychological. When he escapes from his prison cell, her former handler brings two agents with him, telling her that one or the other will be her shadow, until her torturer is caught again. Having kept herself too busy for romance, she is caught off-guard by the sudden insertion into her life of two hot, sexy men, one who actively pursues her, and one whom she finds more attractive for his shyness. Doe she choose between them, or enjoy them both? Will she live long enough to make a choice? |
And once she does, is that the end of the story? When the man she chooses is captured while on his last assignment, she needs to recruit a team to rescue him. But she needs one more team member--the man she rejected. There's only one thing she can offer to him, that might convince him.
- What is the sexiest part of a man? -
What is the sexiest part of a man?
What part of a man do you consider to be the sexiest? The 6-pack abs that some drool over? The tight glutes on a well-shaped butt just made for your hands to dig into while he relentlessly pounds himself into you? The wide shoulders for you to hold onto, emphasizing how much bigger than you that he is, so you feel well protected? His arms, muscled and strong, with veins that pop out, a testament to his high testosterone level, proving how hard he works out to be sexy? His smile, just for you? Dimples? Eyes that burn into yours when he looks at you with lust on his mind? Or is it the male package--the triad--the two family jewels along with the shaft of pleasure--that for some odd reason is sometimes referred to as his junk?
Me? I like guys who are taller than me, which isn't difficult since I'm short. I like long legs and a tight ass. I like wide shoulders that taper to a sexy abdomen. And I study men's hands because I've read Xavier Hollander's The Happy Hooker, in which she explains how to estimate a man's package based on his fingers. I like scruffy faces with that barely-shaved-look--and a mustache. Hair color, eye color, skin color, nationality? All of those are negotiable.
But what part do I consider the sexiest? My answer might surprise you. I love everything about men--their hairiness, their strength, their sweatiness, their hardness--especially their hardness. Phew! But the one part of the male anatomy that I find the most sexy is--the brain. The brain? With all of those other attractive parts? Why? Simple. All men have sexy parts to their bodies, but only some know how to use them to give you maximum pleasure. Have you ever heard, It's not the size of the wand but the skill of the magician? How do men gain skill and learn how to use their many sexy parts to attract and please a woman? Duh--using their brain!
Any man who takes the time to learn about women--about our varied paths to pleasure, about the difference between the many kinds of orgasms we can have, and how to give them all--is already a step above the other men who never bother to think about pleasing anyone other than themselves. There are men who truly don't care as long as they are satisfied. Then there are men who learn just enough to get by--but spend any time being intimate with them and you can almost see them remembering that they need to grab here, squeeze there, lick a bit, then go for it! Here's a clue, fellas--this is not the best way to endear yourself to any partner.
The man to look for is the one who looks at all women as unique beings, who learns how to do basic things, but asks each woman he is with--What pleases you? How can I help you to enjoy yourself more? He will respect your intelligence, engaging in conversation and actually listening to and responding to your opinions.
Every idea he comes up with, every position, every variation, has to start in his brain. So in my opinion, unequivocally, the sexiest part of a man is his brain.
What part of a man do you consider to be the sexiest? The 6-pack abs that some drool over? The tight glutes on a well-shaped butt just made for your hands to dig into while he relentlessly pounds himself into you? The wide shoulders for you to hold onto, emphasizing how much bigger than you that he is, so you feel well protected? His arms, muscled and strong, with veins that pop out, a testament to his high testosterone level, proving how hard he works out to be sexy? His smile, just for you? Dimples? Eyes that burn into yours when he looks at you with lust on his mind? Or is it the male package--the triad--the two family jewels along with the shaft of pleasure--that for some odd reason is sometimes referred to as his junk?
Me? I like guys who are taller than me, which isn't difficult since I'm short. I like long legs and a tight ass. I like wide shoulders that taper to a sexy abdomen. And I study men's hands because I've read Xavier Hollander's The Happy Hooker, in which she explains how to estimate a man's package based on his fingers. I like scruffy faces with that barely-shaved-look--and a mustache. Hair color, eye color, skin color, nationality? All of those are negotiable.
But what part do I consider the sexiest? My answer might surprise you. I love everything about men--their hairiness, their strength, their sweatiness, their hardness--especially their hardness. Phew! But the one part of the male anatomy that I find the most sexy is--the brain. The brain? With all of those other attractive parts? Why? Simple. All men have sexy parts to their bodies, but only some know how to use them to give you maximum pleasure. Have you ever heard, It's not the size of the wand but the skill of the magician? How do men gain skill and learn how to use their many sexy parts to attract and please a woman? Duh--using their brain!
Any man who takes the time to learn about women--about our varied paths to pleasure, about the difference between the many kinds of orgasms we can have, and how to give them all--is already a step above the other men who never bother to think about pleasing anyone other than themselves. There are men who truly don't care as long as they are satisfied. Then there are men who learn just enough to get by--but spend any time being intimate with them and you can almost see them remembering that they need to grab here, squeeze there, lick a bit, then go for it! Here's a clue, fellas--this is not the best way to endear yourself to any partner.
The man to look for is the one who looks at all women as unique beings, who learns how to do basic things, but asks each woman he is with--What pleases you? How can I help you to enjoy yourself more? He will respect your intelligence, engaging in conversation and actually listening to and responding to your opinions.
Every idea he comes up with, every position, every variation, has to start in his brain. So in my opinion, unequivocally, the sexiest part of a man is his brain.
- Sneak Peek -
Ameena has to attend a weekend-long celebration for a music producer's birthday. She has to choose one of the men to accompany her. Since he's been trying to seduce her, Tomás is shocked when she tells Adam to pack for the weekend.
As she opened the door, Ameena couldn't help but react to Adam's changed appearance. He had changed into even tighter jeans, that appeared molded to his skin. The fabric was worn smooth from age, hugging his thighs, and showing off a bulge that suggested the pleasures to be had from peeling the fabric off of it. His tee-shirt had been replaced by a shirt and tie, but the combination was striking. The shirt was made of a silky fabric in swirling shades of blue, that accentuated his light blue eyes. The fabric clung to every curve of his shoulders and his arms, showing off a wiry, muscular build that she had previously been unaware of. The tie was a skinny black leather one held in place by a clip with the initial A on it. It accentuated his almost-black hair. And since it was later in the day, his five-o'clock shadow gave him a scruffy, bad-boy look.
Ameena was unable to make words come out of her mouth, when Adam was standing in front of her looking like a wet dream. She could feel her nipples pucker against her bra, and a familiar warm sensation was spreading from her inner thighs upwards, while her breathing had sped up, drying her lips. She managed only one word, in a breathy voice. "Wow!"
Adam smiled at her obvious appreciation of his new look.
"You look like a seventies porn star, Adam," Tomás said from his vantage point at the table.
Ameena shook her head as Adam walked into the apartment. "No he doesn't."
Adam interrupted her to haughtily correct Tomás. "Obviously you don't know the kinds of videos that Eddie-G is famous for creating the template for. He was really instrumental in the early eighties, as the one who almost single-handedly created the punk look, hearkening back to the Beatles' early days headlining at the Cavern in Berlin. I figured I'd salute him on his birthday, with a tribute to his early genius."
Malcolm nodded. "Even in Ireland, we dressed like that back then. Didn't that look involve black leather jackets, too?"
Adam nodded. "It's in the car."
Ameena had found her voice. "I didn't have time to change. I'll fill you in on the ride. I'll just go get my bags and be right back."
While Tomás glared at Adam, Malcolm grinned approvingly. "You really do look good, mate. Just be alert, and stay close to her all weekend."
Adam nodded. "Of course."
Ameena came back into the room with one bag over her shoulder, and another larger one in her hand.
Tomás rose quickly, but Adam hadn't sat down, so he was already on his feet. He got to her first. "Let me carry that for you."
Ameena surrendered the larger, heavier bag and smiled. "Ready?"
He nodded.
"Then let's hit the road!"
As she opened the door, Ameena couldn't help but react to Adam's changed appearance. He had changed into even tighter jeans, that appeared molded to his skin. The fabric was worn smooth from age, hugging his thighs, and showing off a bulge that suggested the pleasures to be had from peeling the fabric off of it. His tee-shirt had been replaced by a shirt and tie, but the combination was striking. The shirt was made of a silky fabric in swirling shades of blue, that accentuated his light blue eyes. The fabric clung to every curve of his shoulders and his arms, showing off a wiry, muscular build that she had previously been unaware of. The tie was a skinny black leather one held in place by a clip with the initial A on it. It accentuated his almost-black hair. And since it was later in the day, his five-o'clock shadow gave him a scruffy, bad-boy look.
Ameena was unable to make words come out of her mouth, when Adam was standing in front of her looking like a wet dream. She could feel her nipples pucker against her bra, and a familiar warm sensation was spreading from her inner thighs upwards, while her breathing had sped up, drying her lips. She managed only one word, in a breathy voice. "Wow!"
Adam smiled at her obvious appreciation of his new look.
"You look like a seventies porn star, Adam," Tomás said from his vantage point at the table.
Ameena shook her head as Adam walked into the apartment. "No he doesn't."
Adam interrupted her to haughtily correct Tomás. "Obviously you don't know the kinds of videos that Eddie-G is famous for creating the template for. He was really instrumental in the early eighties, as the one who almost single-handedly created the punk look, hearkening back to the Beatles' early days headlining at the Cavern in Berlin. I figured I'd salute him on his birthday, with a tribute to his early genius."
Malcolm nodded. "Even in Ireland, we dressed like that back then. Didn't that look involve black leather jackets, too?"
Adam nodded. "It's in the car."
Ameena had found her voice. "I didn't have time to change. I'll fill you in on the ride. I'll just go get my bags and be right back."
While Tomás glared at Adam, Malcolm grinned approvingly. "You really do look good, mate. Just be alert, and stay close to her all weekend."
Adam nodded. "Of course."
Ameena came back into the room with one bag over her shoulder, and another larger one in her hand.
Tomás rose quickly, but Adam hadn't sat down, so he was already on his feet. He got to her first. "Let me carry that for you."
Ameena surrendered the larger, heavier bag and smiled. "Ready?"
He nodded.
"Then let's hit the road!"
- Giveaway -
Prize One
| Prize Two |  Prize Three - ebook |
To ENTER comment below:
1. What do you think is the sexiest part of a man?
2. Have you read Fiona McGier before?
Good luck!
WINNERS:
Gift card: Angle Morgan
Ebook of Undercover Lovers: Mary P.
Prize list book: Becca
 | An ex-boyfriend, his massive dog, her house, and no hotel room in sight. What could go wrong? After Blair ended things with Brandis, she was determined to get away--and stay away from him for good. She put family, friends, and the life she knew in Michigan in her rear view mirror and started over. As owner and head chef of her own place in Louisville, she stays plenty busy, especially since “Blair’s Kitchen” is the darling of the restaurant scene. She’s managed to avoid Michigan for almost a decade, but when her best friend needs her help, she drops everything and heads home. Brandis has spent the last ten years coming to |
terms with addiction, personal tragedy, and the loss of the woman he loved. He’s now the third generation to run his family’s construction business, and he’s managed to reconstruct tattered relationships with his family. He’s even adopted a dog, thanks to some donated renovation time spent at an animal shelter. He’s got everything he needs—except a for one thing.
When the contractor she paid to build her restaurant’s expansion vanishes, leaving her with a giant mess, Blair only hesitates a moment before calling Brandis for help. But when he rushes to her side to evaluate the crisis, there isn’t an available room in a twenty mile radius. So they settle in to a routine—her, her one-time boyfriend, and his giant, slobbering dog in her small house. It doesn’t take long for the temptation of close proximity to give way, and while Blair tries to keep it all physical, Brandis has other ideas.
The end of the Stewart Realty saga brings the second generation full-circle in ways many never expected, and no one regrets.
When the contractor she paid to build her restaurant’s expansion vanishes, leaving her with a giant mess, Blair only hesitates a moment before calling Brandis for help. But when he rushes to her side to evaluate the crisis, there isn’t an available room in a twenty mile radius. So they settle in to a routine—her, her one-time boyfriend, and his giant, slobbering dog in her small house. It doesn’t take long for the temptation of close proximity to give way, and while Blair tries to keep it all physical, Brandis has other ideas.
The end of the Stewart Realty saga brings the second generation full-circle in ways many never expected, and no one regrets.
- Sneak Peek One -
Blair grabbed a pint of ice cream. “Dessert? Movie?”
“Yes, please.” Brandis whistled for the dog who came bounding down the hallway and skidded to a stop after slamming into the kitchen wall. He gave her a pill and a bone to chew. She trotted to the living room. “She’s gonna need a bath,” he said. “Sorry if she’s stinking up your place.”
“It’s okay.” She reached for some bowls but Brandis handed her a spoon.
“Let’s not dirty any more dishes,” he said. “And I hope you get Disney because I’m in a retro Star Wars mood.”
“Of course, I do. Give me some credit.”
They passed the carton back and forth, keeping air between them on the couch while the dog chewed her bone, stretched out on the rug and cut such a loud fart Blair burst out laughing. “Wow,” she said, waving a hand in front of her face.
“Oh, that’s nothing. It’s one reason I don’t give her processed dog food. Her digestion is delicate.”
“Delicate is not the word I’d use.”
He ate the last bite, then took their spoons and the empty container to the kitchen. When he returned, he pulled her feet onto his lap as a matter of course. She tensed, but when he began rubbing her arches she forgot pretty much anything else. She must have dozed because when she opened her eyes, the dog was on her eye level, looking at her with a curious head tilt. “You snore,” Brandis said. “Freaked her out a little.”
“Sorry,” she said, rolling onto her side. Brandis kept his hand resting it on her hip while the movie ended. Before she realized what was happening, she was being carried, and then tucked into bed. A finger traced her cheek and lips. Half asleep, she opened one eye. “This is weird, and I’m sorry I’m being so…”
“Horny? I’m not sorry one bit.” He brushed her hair off her face, his touch gentle.
“So needy,” she said. “But also, um… unavailable at the same time.”
He leaned over and whispered, “I get it. And I’m okay with it. For now.” He pressed his lips to her neck, right below her ear. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. When she let go and rolled away, exhausted, sore, happy, and sad all at once it only took seconds to drop back to sleep.
“Yes, please.” Brandis whistled for the dog who came bounding down the hallway and skidded to a stop after slamming into the kitchen wall. He gave her a pill and a bone to chew. She trotted to the living room. “She’s gonna need a bath,” he said. “Sorry if she’s stinking up your place.”
“It’s okay.” She reached for some bowls but Brandis handed her a spoon.
“Let’s not dirty any more dishes,” he said. “And I hope you get Disney because I’m in a retro Star Wars mood.”
“Of course, I do. Give me some credit.”
They passed the carton back and forth, keeping air between them on the couch while the dog chewed her bone, stretched out on the rug and cut such a loud fart Blair burst out laughing. “Wow,” she said, waving a hand in front of her face.
“Oh, that’s nothing. It’s one reason I don’t give her processed dog food. Her digestion is delicate.”
“Delicate is not the word I’d use.”
He ate the last bite, then took their spoons and the empty container to the kitchen. When he returned, he pulled her feet onto his lap as a matter of course. She tensed, but when he began rubbing her arches she forgot pretty much anything else. She must have dozed because when she opened her eyes, the dog was on her eye level, looking at her with a curious head tilt. “You snore,” Brandis said. “Freaked her out a little.”
“Sorry,” she said, rolling onto her side. Brandis kept his hand resting it on her hip while the movie ended. Before she realized what was happening, she was being carried, and then tucked into bed. A finger traced her cheek and lips. Half asleep, she opened one eye. “This is weird, and I’m sorry I’m being so…”
“Horny? I’m not sorry one bit.” He brushed her hair off her face, his touch gentle.
“So needy,” she said. “But also, um… unavailable at the same time.”
He leaned over and whispered, “I get it. And I’m okay with it. For now.” He pressed his lips to her neck, right below her ear. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. When she let go and rolled away, exhausted, sore, happy, and sad all at once it only took seconds to drop back to sleep.
- Sneak Peek Two -
Brandis kept his distance despite every nerve in his body’s effort to propel him forward. Tiny wandered over and sat next to Blair, putting her huge noggin on Blair’s lap with a sigh.
“I’ll take care of her while you go to your meeting. Does she need to eat?”
“What?” He was mesmerized by the sight of her hand on the dog’s head. “Oh, uh, it’s okay. She can go with me.”
“I think she wants to stay with me, don’t you girl?”
Tiny looked over at him with a clear “of course I want to stay here, dude,” expression. He eased toward the doorway, needing space to think. “I’m going to shower.”
“Fair warning, the shower head hasn’t been working so great,” she said.
“What’s wrong with it?” He forced his feet to move, silently thrilled to have a purpose other than the one yammering at him to grab her and kiss her until they were both dizzy.
“I think I need a new one.”
“I’ll fix it,” he said, grabbing his duffle bag.
“Don’t be late to your meeting.” She got up and stretched, revealing a tantalizing line of exposed flesh between her jeans waistband and sweatshirt hem. “I’ll make us something for dinner.”
He stopped, gazing at her, surprised she sounded so calm, so normal in the face of this odd circumstance. Maybe she was over him, he thought as she hummed and poked around in the fridge. He stared at the pleasant way her well-worn jeans hugged her butt, cursed under his breath and headed for the bathroom.
After fiddling with the shower head and the lines from the old-fashioned faucets, he decided he’d have to buy her a whole new set up. He managed a quick rinse off, dried and redressed in jeans and a travel-wrinkled button-down shirt, once he’d tidied up after himself. He carried his bag and shoes down the hall to the kitchen, using slow, careful steps as if it might help quiet the clamor in his brain.
He stopped in the doorway, frozen in place yet again by the sight of her. She was facing the sink, the deep black cascade of her hair halfway down her back. A tear slid down the cheek he could see in profile. Her hands curled into fists, pressing onto the edge of the sink. Everything about her screamed misery. With a jolt, he realized she wasn’t miserable because of him. He could fix her problem this time—he had the skills, the contacts, the wherewithal to do all of it.
He walked to the back door to put his shoes outside. Before he could talk himself out of it, he crossed the room to her, stood behind her, his hands raised in the air, unsure of himself for a split second. This was the moment. It was time. It was up to him to breech the chasm she’d dug between them. He had to do it. It was now or never.
He placed his trembling palms on her shoulders. Tiny raised her head from the rug near where they stood, but put it back down as if reassured. His ears were ringing. His heart beat so hard it was a drumbeat against his ribcage. With a sigh, he slid his hands down her arms.
She stiffened at first, leaning against him in a way that forced a low, choked noise from his throat. He closed his eyes when she took his hands and guided them around her. They stood like this a few minutes, their breathing in sync, the clock on the wall nearby the only sound other than the whooshing noise replacing the ringing in his ears.
“I’ll take care of her while you go to your meeting. Does she need to eat?”
“What?” He was mesmerized by the sight of her hand on the dog’s head. “Oh, uh, it’s okay. She can go with me.”
“I think she wants to stay with me, don’t you girl?”
Tiny looked over at him with a clear “of course I want to stay here, dude,” expression. He eased toward the doorway, needing space to think. “I’m going to shower.”
“Fair warning, the shower head hasn’t been working so great,” she said.
“What’s wrong with it?” He forced his feet to move, silently thrilled to have a purpose other than the one yammering at him to grab her and kiss her until they were both dizzy.
“I think I need a new one.”
“I’ll fix it,” he said, grabbing his duffle bag.
“Don’t be late to your meeting.” She got up and stretched, revealing a tantalizing line of exposed flesh between her jeans waistband and sweatshirt hem. “I’ll make us something for dinner.”
He stopped, gazing at her, surprised she sounded so calm, so normal in the face of this odd circumstance. Maybe she was over him, he thought as she hummed and poked around in the fridge. He stared at the pleasant way her well-worn jeans hugged her butt, cursed under his breath and headed for the bathroom.
After fiddling with the shower head and the lines from the old-fashioned faucets, he decided he’d have to buy her a whole new set up. He managed a quick rinse off, dried and redressed in jeans and a travel-wrinkled button-down shirt, once he’d tidied up after himself. He carried his bag and shoes down the hall to the kitchen, using slow, careful steps as if it might help quiet the clamor in his brain.
He stopped in the doorway, frozen in place yet again by the sight of her. She was facing the sink, the deep black cascade of her hair halfway down her back. A tear slid down the cheek he could see in profile. Her hands curled into fists, pressing onto the edge of the sink. Everything about her screamed misery. With a jolt, he realized she wasn’t miserable because of him. He could fix her problem this time—he had the skills, the contacts, the wherewithal to do all of it.
He walked to the back door to put his shoes outside. Before he could talk himself out of it, he crossed the room to her, stood behind her, his hands raised in the air, unsure of himself for a split second. This was the moment. It was time. It was up to him to breech the chasm she’d dug between them. He had to do it. It was now or never.
He placed his trembling palms on her shoulders. Tiny raised her head from the rug near where they stood, but put it back down as if reassured. His ears were ringing. His heart beat so hard it was a drumbeat against his ribcage. With a sigh, he slid his hands down her arms.
She stiffened at first, leaning against him in a way that forced a low, choked noise from his throat. He closed his eyes when she took his hands and guided them around her. They stood like this a few minutes, their breathing in sync, the clock on the wall nearby the only sound other than the whooshing noise replacing the ringing in his ears.
- Giveaway -
Prize One from Liz Crowe
Prize Two
Prize Three
To ENTER comment below:
1. Which sneak peek did you like from Backup Offer and why?
2. Have you read Liz Crowe before?
Good luck!
WINNERS:
$20 Amazon Card: Anna
$10 Amazon card: Lisa
Prize List book: Cathy M
 | Lyric: I'm in so much trouble. My orders are to find the highest-ranking member of Salvation's Bane or Black Reign MCs and sleep with him. Worm my way into his bed so I can feed information to Kiss of Death. Little did I know I would find the one man I could never forget -- the man who broke my heart six years ago and left me to fend for myself against a ruthless club who will break me the first chance they get. Rycks: Lyric ran out on me six years ago. Not that I'd given her any reason to stay. The second I see her again, I want to punish her. She waltzes back into my life with an agenda I can't figure out. When I do, the |
truth is as scary as it is infuriating. Lyric is my torment. She's sent to me as bait in a bigger plan I can't fathom. Mainly because I'm too distracted by what she reveals. Now I'm questioning my loyalties to both her and my mentor, El Diablo. She pulls at my need to protect at the same time she might just prove herself to be a traitor.
- Sneak Peek -
My heart was pounding. Something wasn’t right. When I entered the other room, there was a long, semicircular table. In the center, in front of the table, was a chair on a black mat. Men sat at the table while more stood in the background. Wouldn’t you know it, Rycks led me to the center chair and indicated I should sit.
I looked up at him. He didn’t meet my gaze.
“You’ll answer their questions truthfully and completely,” he said softly. Then, finally, he met my gaze. When his eyes locked with mine, I knew I was looking at death itself.
Sucking in a little gasp, I swallowed. Then I nodded. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“You’ll address yourself to us, Lyric.” Havoc, the vice president of Salvation’s Bane, instructed. “Rycks isn’t a member of our MC. He’s here out of courtesy to him and his club since he’s helping us with this ongoing matter.” Havoc’s tone wasn’t unkind, but it wasn’t gentle either. The man meant business. Whatever had happened to lead to this meeting was serious. And more than just me confessing something to Rycks in an effort to help their club. “Do you understand?” When I nodded, he continued. “You told Rycks last night that you’d been sent by Kiss of Death to glean information from us.”
It took me a second to realize he expected an answer, that it wasn’t rhetorical. Then I responded simply, “Yes.”
“Did you pass on anything you saw? Anything you heard?”
“No. I was with Rycks from the time I met up with him until now.” I thought about the bugs. Was now when I needed to tell them? What was the protocol? Before I could answer, I was interrupted.
“We’re aware of that,” Havoc said. “What I want to know is, did you make it so that Kiss of Death could gather information on our club from the inside. Did you plant any listening or video devices?”
So they had found them.
“Yes. Not tonight, but when I was here before with Wrangler. In the common room. Last night, I was searched before I came in.”
“So you had nothing we could readily see or detect if we didn’t know what to look for.”
What was he getting at?
“Sir, I was with Rycks the entire night. Yes, I did as I was instructed and planted three bugs. I have no idea if they were visual or audio, but they had to be pressed into a wall or flimsy piece of wood. I didn’t go anywhere other than the common room, and the bathrooms I was allowed into all have tiled walls.”
“But you were there an hour and a half before you left with Rycks.”
I paused, thinking. “I suppose so, yes. But I was in the common room the entire time.”
Havoc nodded once, then used a remote to turn on a big TV across the room. My attention automatically focused there. On the screen, I saw myself at the bar with the time stamp. After a couple of seconds, the camera zoomed in. It focused on my left hand where I had apparently removed something from the pocket of my shorts and placed it under the lip of the bar. Then another scene with me doing the same at a table. And a couch. All of them out-of-the-way places that were easily accessible, but wouldn’t be noticed if they hadn’t been looking for them.
“I didn’t do that.” I said softly. “If you pan back, you’ll see it’s not me. I didn’t have anything that stuck to anything. It had to be pushed into the wall. Like a thumb tack.”
He did. And it was me.
“After checking the places in question, we found listening devices. There were also a couple of video devices. Then, you left the room. You stopped to talk to a club girl and get directions to the bathroom. She pointed you in a direction down the hall, which you followed. Only you didn’t go to the bathroom. You went to Thorn’s office.”
The next video on the screen was of her, rifling through the drawers in the president’s desk. Again, it looked as if she planted bugs all around the room.
“I’m going to need you to show us where all those bugs are, Lyric,” Havoc said. “We found some of them, but they’re extremely tiny. There were at least three places where it looked like you planted something, but we couldn’t locate the device.”
“But I didn’t --”
“Stop lying!” Rycks growled. “I gave you a chance to come clean with me, Lyric. You told me about Kiss of Death expecting you to infiltrate Bane and set yourself up with a patched member to feed them information. You neglected to tell me you’d already bugged the whole compound. How many times have you been here with Wrangler?”
“Only once. It was when I planted the bugs I was given. I didn’t lie to you, other than not telling you about them. I intended to, but our conversation was pretty intense and emotionally draining. Other than this, I’ve been completely honest with you. It was an honest omission.”
“Bullshit,” he spat. I felt like he’d slapped me. I even flinched a little before I could stop myself. If I’d lost Rycks’s protection, I was fucked. Whatever happened down here, I had no hope of preventing. At that moment, I wasn’t sure I cared. Because, no matter what Salvation’s Bane did to me, it was going to be so much worse for Bella. And she’d never understand what was happening. Rycks had just ripped out my heart for more than one reason. I loved Bella with everything inside me, but I hadn’t realized how much I was beginning to care for Rycks. I hadn’t realized how tightly he had a hold of my heart until he ripped it from my chest. If they killed me, at least the pain would go away. But what would happen to Bella?
I looked up at him. He didn’t meet my gaze.
“You’ll answer their questions truthfully and completely,” he said softly. Then, finally, he met my gaze. When his eyes locked with mine, I knew I was looking at death itself.
Sucking in a little gasp, I swallowed. Then I nodded. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“You’ll address yourself to us, Lyric.” Havoc, the vice president of Salvation’s Bane, instructed. “Rycks isn’t a member of our MC. He’s here out of courtesy to him and his club since he’s helping us with this ongoing matter.” Havoc’s tone wasn’t unkind, but it wasn’t gentle either. The man meant business. Whatever had happened to lead to this meeting was serious. And more than just me confessing something to Rycks in an effort to help their club. “Do you understand?” When I nodded, he continued. “You told Rycks last night that you’d been sent by Kiss of Death to glean information from us.”
It took me a second to realize he expected an answer, that it wasn’t rhetorical. Then I responded simply, “Yes.”
“Did you pass on anything you saw? Anything you heard?”
“No. I was with Rycks from the time I met up with him until now.” I thought about the bugs. Was now when I needed to tell them? What was the protocol? Before I could answer, I was interrupted.
“We’re aware of that,” Havoc said. “What I want to know is, did you make it so that Kiss of Death could gather information on our club from the inside. Did you plant any listening or video devices?”
So they had found them.
“Yes. Not tonight, but when I was here before with Wrangler. In the common room. Last night, I was searched before I came in.”
“So you had nothing we could readily see or detect if we didn’t know what to look for.”
What was he getting at?
“Sir, I was with Rycks the entire night. Yes, I did as I was instructed and planted three bugs. I have no idea if they were visual or audio, but they had to be pressed into a wall or flimsy piece of wood. I didn’t go anywhere other than the common room, and the bathrooms I was allowed into all have tiled walls.”
“But you were there an hour and a half before you left with Rycks.”
I paused, thinking. “I suppose so, yes. But I was in the common room the entire time.”
Havoc nodded once, then used a remote to turn on a big TV across the room. My attention automatically focused there. On the screen, I saw myself at the bar with the time stamp. After a couple of seconds, the camera zoomed in. It focused on my left hand where I had apparently removed something from the pocket of my shorts and placed it under the lip of the bar. Then another scene with me doing the same at a table. And a couch. All of them out-of-the-way places that were easily accessible, but wouldn’t be noticed if they hadn’t been looking for them.
“I didn’t do that.” I said softly. “If you pan back, you’ll see it’s not me. I didn’t have anything that stuck to anything. It had to be pushed into the wall. Like a thumb tack.”
He did. And it was me.
“After checking the places in question, we found listening devices. There were also a couple of video devices. Then, you left the room. You stopped to talk to a club girl and get directions to the bathroom. She pointed you in a direction down the hall, which you followed. Only you didn’t go to the bathroom. You went to Thorn’s office.”
The next video on the screen was of her, rifling through the drawers in the president’s desk. Again, it looked as if she planted bugs all around the room.
“I’m going to need you to show us where all those bugs are, Lyric,” Havoc said. “We found some of them, but they’re extremely tiny. There were at least three places where it looked like you planted something, but we couldn’t locate the device.”
“But I didn’t --”
“Stop lying!” Rycks growled. “I gave you a chance to come clean with me, Lyric. You told me about Kiss of Death expecting you to infiltrate Bane and set yourself up with a patched member to feed them information. You neglected to tell me you’d already bugged the whole compound. How many times have you been here with Wrangler?”
“Only once. It was when I planted the bugs I was given. I didn’t lie to you, other than not telling you about them. I intended to, but our conversation was pretty intense and emotionally draining. Other than this, I’ve been completely honest with you. It was an honest omission.”
“Bullshit,” he spat. I felt like he’d slapped me. I even flinched a little before I could stop myself. If I’d lost Rycks’s protection, I was fucked. Whatever happened down here, I had no hope of preventing. At that moment, I wasn’t sure I cared. Because, no matter what Salvation’s Bane did to me, it was going to be so much worse for Bella. And she’d never understand what was happening. Rycks had just ripped out my heart for more than one reason. I loved Bella with everything inside me, but I hadn’t realized how much I was beginning to care for Rycks. I hadn’t realized how tightly he had a hold of my heart until he ripped it from my chest. If they killed me, at least the pain would go away. But what would happen to Bella?
- Giveaway -
Prize One
Prize Two
To ENTER comment below:
1. What did you like about the sneak peek of Rycks?
2. Have you read Marteeka Karland before?
For extra entries share this post using the Facebook and Twitter buttons below. Good luck!
 | Eric Tinsley, the unexpected new Lord Gossett, has inherited a mess. He was never meant to be Lord of the manor, since he was the ‘spare’, but is forced into the role upon the deaths of his father and brother. Little does he know that the title comes with a mound of debt that he cannot afford to pay. Enter Robert Bennett, American Billionaire. Robert has tried multiple ways to move up in society, but even his billions can’t crack the royal elite. But where there’s a will, there’s a way, and Robert finds that way with Eric, Lord Gossett. |
Married under a ten-year contract that outlines every aspect of their relationship, they soon find themselves questioning everything.
- Interview with MJ Calabrese -
1. When did you first realize you wanted to be a Writer?
I was about 13. I was a voracious reader. I’d always had a good imagination. I came home from the local library declaring there were no more books to read. My mother said, much to her chagrin now, “then writer some.” Took possession of my Dad’s old Remington portable and started writing. Of course, looking at them now, they were atrocious, but it was a start.
2. How long does it usually take you to write a book?
That’s hard to say. The creative process of coalescing a story in my head can take from months to a few hours. Putting it on paper and completing a novel, maybe 3 months or a little less, sometimes. But that being said, I just completed a serial called White Picket Fences: Ryder and Aaron in 2 weeks. That was 38,000 words.
3. What is your work schedule like when you're writing?
After I’ve plotted out the story and some dialogue in my head, I write long-hand on a steno pad, initially. Just me. That way I can write anytime, like if I’m in the car waiting on someone or a doctor’s appt. or if I’m just sitting in the living room. It’s a very portable way to write. Me or a friend will input it in the computer, usually in the evening. I will continue to expand the story on the computer, sometimes working 10 hour stints. Sometimes as late as 2:30 am. I like the quiet. I’m a bit of an insomniac.
4. What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
I have several. I talk to myself out loud, sometimes act out the scenes. Wifey ignores me. It’s great to do in the car when you are alone. People think you are talking on your phone. LOL. When I have an idea in my head, I get this drifty look. Like I go into a fugue state watching the scene unfold in my head as I listen to the characters. Again, Wifey has learned to stop asking if I’m alright. She just looks at me and says, “Writing?” I nod and she leaves me alone.
5. Where do you get your information or ideas for your books?
I’m very visual. A photograph can give me a story idea. I collect photos of actors who are the visual representation of my characters and photos that show emotions I want to express in a scene. I’ve always done this. My office looks like a homicide department with all the suspects hanging on my walls. A line from something I read can set me off. If I need to do actual research on a topic, I use photos, Google, library, and my own extremely varied personal experiences, such as unusual jobs and experience with addiction. I’m a trivia nut, as well.
6. What do you like to do when you're not writing?
Read and travel.
7. What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your books?
That characters and stories have a mind of their own. It’s a lot like wrangling cats. Early on I was a pantser (someone who just starts a story and lets it go wild), I’m now a plotter. I tend to know at least my ending before I begin. I can’t waste time. Another surprising thing is how big a part social media plays in an author’s life. You may not like to think about it, but what you write may be influenced by what you see there.
8. How many books have you written? Which are your favorite/s?
This is my debut book as M.J. Calabrese. Using other pseudonyms, I’ve written screenplays and short stories. Ages ago, straight romances. I truly love Warrior’s Way. Adam and Eagle are my boys. They spark my creative mind. They make me want to tell their story and their imperfections are what make them memorable.
9. Do you have any suggestions to help anyone become a Writer? If so, what are they?
Write, write, write. If you ever want to be published, get yourself a good support team, people who will be honest with you. Be open to suggestion. Sometimes a fresh perspective can show you things you never thought of. Also, No One Is Trying To Steal Your Story! No one can write like you. There are no new plot lines under the sun. Be willing to talk to other writers, mentors, teachers. I’ve taken classes from some of the best and I encourage writers to always be expanding their skills. I took an acting class because I wanted to understand dialogue better.
10. What do you think makes a good story?
I come from a screenwriting background, so dialogue, plot and characters are important to me. I’ve had to work on description because a screenplay doesn’t have much. I want to be engaged and care about the people I’m reading about. If I’m not, then as soon as I put that book down, I’ll never miss it. Be brave. Tackle topics that aren’t easy to write about. Great sex scenes in MM romance can be wonderful, but it can’t be all there is to the story.
MJ Calabrese Links:
Website: www.mjcalabrese.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authormjcalabrese/
Twitter: www.twitter.com/calabrese_mj
Instagram: www.instagram.com/mj.calabrese/
I was about 13. I was a voracious reader. I’d always had a good imagination. I came home from the local library declaring there were no more books to read. My mother said, much to her chagrin now, “then writer some.” Took possession of my Dad’s old Remington portable and started writing. Of course, looking at them now, they were atrocious, but it was a start.
2. How long does it usually take you to write a book?
That’s hard to say. The creative process of coalescing a story in my head can take from months to a few hours. Putting it on paper and completing a novel, maybe 3 months or a little less, sometimes. But that being said, I just completed a serial called White Picket Fences: Ryder and Aaron in 2 weeks. That was 38,000 words.
3. What is your work schedule like when you're writing?
After I’ve plotted out the story and some dialogue in my head, I write long-hand on a steno pad, initially. Just me. That way I can write anytime, like if I’m in the car waiting on someone or a doctor’s appt. or if I’m just sitting in the living room. It’s a very portable way to write. Me or a friend will input it in the computer, usually in the evening. I will continue to expand the story on the computer, sometimes working 10 hour stints. Sometimes as late as 2:30 am. I like the quiet. I’m a bit of an insomniac.
4. What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
I have several. I talk to myself out loud, sometimes act out the scenes. Wifey ignores me. It’s great to do in the car when you are alone. People think you are talking on your phone. LOL. When I have an idea in my head, I get this drifty look. Like I go into a fugue state watching the scene unfold in my head as I listen to the characters. Again, Wifey has learned to stop asking if I’m alright. She just looks at me and says, “Writing?” I nod and she leaves me alone.
5. Where do you get your information or ideas for your books?
I’m very visual. A photograph can give me a story idea. I collect photos of actors who are the visual representation of my characters and photos that show emotions I want to express in a scene. I’ve always done this. My office looks like a homicide department with all the suspects hanging on my walls. A line from something I read can set me off. If I need to do actual research on a topic, I use photos, Google, library, and my own extremely varied personal experiences, such as unusual jobs and experience with addiction. I’m a trivia nut, as well.
6. What do you like to do when you're not writing?
Read and travel.
7. What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your books?
That characters and stories have a mind of their own. It’s a lot like wrangling cats. Early on I was a pantser (someone who just starts a story and lets it go wild), I’m now a plotter. I tend to know at least my ending before I begin. I can’t waste time. Another surprising thing is how big a part social media plays in an author’s life. You may not like to think about it, but what you write may be influenced by what you see there.
8. How many books have you written? Which are your favorite/s?
This is my debut book as M.J. Calabrese. Using other pseudonyms, I’ve written screenplays and short stories. Ages ago, straight romances. I truly love Warrior’s Way. Adam and Eagle are my boys. They spark my creative mind. They make me want to tell their story and their imperfections are what make them memorable.
9. Do you have any suggestions to help anyone become a Writer? If so, what are they?
Write, write, write. If you ever want to be published, get yourself a good support team, people who will be honest with you. Be open to suggestion. Sometimes a fresh perspective can show you things you never thought of. Also, No One Is Trying To Steal Your Story! No one can write like you. There are no new plot lines under the sun. Be willing to talk to other writers, mentors, teachers. I’ve taken classes from some of the best and I encourage writers to always be expanding their skills. I took an acting class because I wanted to understand dialogue better.
10. What do you think makes a good story?
I come from a screenwriting background, so dialogue, plot and characters are important to me. I’ve had to work on description because a screenplay doesn’t have much. I want to be engaged and care about the people I’m reading about. If I’m not, then as soon as I put that book down, I’ll never miss it. Be brave. Tackle topics that aren’t easy to write about. Great sex scenes in MM romance can be wonderful, but it can’t be all there is to the story.
MJ Calabrese Links:
Website: www.mjcalabrese.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authormjcalabrese/
Twitter: www.twitter.com/calabrese_mj
Instagram: www.instagram.com/mj.calabrese/
- Giveaway -
Prize One
| Prize Two | Prize Three |
To ENTER comment below:
1. What question/answer did you like best?
2. Have you read MJ Calabrese before?
For extra entries share this post using the Facebook and Twitter buttons below. Good luck!
WINNERS:
Gift cards: Hannah
Prize list books: Beth and Tessa
 | Cayme Foster returns home to deal with her mom's fatal illness and is faced with memories and secrets she'd rather forget. Her old crush and his adorable eight-year-old son will make it even more difficult to leave town again. Single dad Rick Morrison had his shot at marriage and isn't willing to risk rejection a second time. If only he wasn't compelled to rescue Cayme whenever he's around her, making it hard to keep his distance. He's conflicted about helping Cayme save her home, but the truth rises with the floodwaters, and they just might find love on the high ground after all. |
Some fun facts about Stanalei Fletcher and the book, Into Something Good:
Stanalei’s love of writing romance comes from reading favorites such as Grimm’s Fairy Tales, Tom Clancy, and Alistair MacLean.
After a taste of life on both U.S. coasts, she now resides near the beautiful Wasatch Mountain Range with her husband. Together they enjoy backcountry trails on a RZR, visiting National Parks, and exploring museums and ghost towns.
She and her husband have over twenty years of training in the martial arts and both hold the rank of Sandan, a third-degree black belt, in Aikido.
Stanalei was raised in a small town in Idaho, much like Blakely, the town depicted in the story. Like the characters in the story, she used the streets as extension of her backyard to play ball with her brothers.
The heroine’s name, Cayme (pronounced Kay-me), was the name of childhood friend. Because Stanalei never had a daughter, she chose that name for one of her favorite female characters.
Raise of hands— Have you ever built a clothesline tent?
You may visit Stanalei HERE.
Stanalei’s love of writing romance comes from reading favorites such as Grimm’s Fairy Tales, Tom Clancy, and Alistair MacLean.
After a taste of life on both U.S. coasts, she now resides near the beautiful Wasatch Mountain Range with her husband. Together they enjoy backcountry trails on a RZR, visiting National Parks, and exploring museums and ghost towns.
She and her husband have over twenty years of training in the martial arts and both hold the rank of Sandan, a third-degree black belt, in Aikido.
Stanalei was raised in a small town in Idaho, much like Blakely, the town depicted in the story. Like the characters in the story, she used the streets as extension of her backyard to play ball with her brothers.
The heroine’s name, Cayme (pronounced Kay-me), was the name of childhood friend. Because Stanalei never had a daughter, she chose that name for one of her favorite female characters.
Raise of hands— Have you ever built a clothesline tent?
You may visit Stanalei HERE.
- SNEAK PEEK -
Chase Peters had a way of pretending to notice others as though they were an afterthought. Just one more thing about his ego and arrogance Cayme should have seen while they dated yet somehow missed. She was an idiot to believe she was once in love enough to marry him.
“Peters.” Rick’s voice was low with cautious civility.
Joy wiggled her way to stand almost directly in front of Cayme and inadvertently upstaged Chase. “You didn’t introduce me.” Her big green eyes ogled Rick, then she unzipped her parka and stuck out a petite hand.
“I’m Joy. Chase’s girlfriend.”
Cayme had no problem looking over the top of Joy’s shiny hair to see Chase’s scowl at the woman flaunting her wares in front of another man. Payback’s a bugger, isn’t it buddy? She swallowed a hysterical laugh. Chase deserved whatever he got. However, she wasn’t ruining her own karma by wishing it on him.
Rick’s hard gaze shifted from Chase to Cayme.
No way could he miss seeing the same panic that had been on her face when he’d rescued her from the ladder.
Then he glanced at Joy and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rick Morrison.” He released her hand a bit more quickly than she expected based on her frown.
A sudden gleam entered Rick’s chocolate-brown eyes, and he stepped closer to Cayme. Before she could register that he had moved, his warm breath puffed near her ear.
“Sorry.” His arm slipped around her shoulders.
Pulling her into an unexpected hug, he placed his lips against her cheek. The kiss was quick, evaporating any response to his apology. His firm, warm mouth grazed her skin and nuzzled her neck, sending a tingle down her spine and a tremor to her thighs. She had no idea what he was doing and didn’t care as long as he kept doing it.
He lifted his head and gave her shoulders another hard squeeze before looking at Chase and Joy. “I’m Cayme’s fiancé.”
If Rick lived to be a hundred and ninety years old, he would never understand what made him tell the most outlandish lie of his life. The moment the words, I’m Cayme’s fiancé, left his mouth, everything inside the store slowed to a snail’s pace. Even his own heartbeat seemed to stop. Maybe the situation wasn’t real, just some bizarre aberration his imagination had conjured up.
Then Cayme stiffened and emitted a strange little squeak.
Not an aberration. Everyone had heard his words.
His gaze dropped to her face, hoping the apology was clear in his eyes.
She stared up at him, her blue eyes wide. Her mouth was slightly open, and the tip of her tongue darted between those kissable lips. Two spots of color flagged each cheek.
He had to admit that he was a little stunned, too.
His impulsive announcement was foolish, to say the least. What if she was involved with someone? And if she was, why wasn’t he there to save the day? He blamed Chase Peters for these contradicting emotions that made him itch to break the guy’s perfect nose— maybe knock out a few teeth while he was at it.
Instead, he placed a finger under Cayme’s jaw and gently pushed her mouth shut. The touch was electric.
The bookstore and people fell away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in a private cocoon.
His finger lingered on the smooth silk of her skin. He was tempted, beyond what any man should endure, to slide his palm up the side of her face and pull her close. He liked the way she smelled of fresh honeysuckle—the way she shivered under his touch. He couldn’t ignore the protective swell in his chest. With sudden clarity, he realized that this urge to protect her was exactly the reason he’d blurted out the insane announcement.
Rick swallowed the unexpected punch of desire that drove through his chest, making him want to kiss her fully on the mouth. That would be a monumental mistake because he’d probably never stop.
“Peters.” Rick’s voice was low with cautious civility.
Joy wiggled her way to stand almost directly in front of Cayme and inadvertently upstaged Chase. “You didn’t introduce me.” Her big green eyes ogled Rick, then she unzipped her parka and stuck out a petite hand.
“I’m Joy. Chase’s girlfriend.”
Cayme had no problem looking over the top of Joy’s shiny hair to see Chase’s scowl at the woman flaunting her wares in front of another man. Payback’s a bugger, isn’t it buddy? She swallowed a hysterical laugh. Chase deserved whatever he got. However, she wasn’t ruining her own karma by wishing it on him.
Rick’s hard gaze shifted from Chase to Cayme.
No way could he miss seeing the same panic that had been on her face when he’d rescued her from the ladder.
Then he glanced at Joy and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rick Morrison.” He released her hand a bit more quickly than she expected based on her frown.
A sudden gleam entered Rick’s chocolate-brown eyes, and he stepped closer to Cayme. Before she could register that he had moved, his warm breath puffed near her ear.
“Sorry.” His arm slipped around her shoulders.
Pulling her into an unexpected hug, he placed his lips against her cheek. The kiss was quick, evaporating any response to his apology. His firm, warm mouth grazed her skin and nuzzled her neck, sending a tingle down her spine and a tremor to her thighs. She had no idea what he was doing and didn’t care as long as he kept doing it.
He lifted his head and gave her shoulders another hard squeeze before looking at Chase and Joy. “I’m Cayme’s fiancé.”
If Rick lived to be a hundred and ninety years old, he would never understand what made him tell the most outlandish lie of his life. The moment the words, I’m Cayme’s fiancé, left his mouth, everything inside the store slowed to a snail’s pace. Even his own heartbeat seemed to stop. Maybe the situation wasn’t real, just some bizarre aberration his imagination had conjured up.
Then Cayme stiffened and emitted a strange little squeak.
Not an aberration. Everyone had heard his words.
His gaze dropped to her face, hoping the apology was clear in his eyes.
She stared up at him, her blue eyes wide. Her mouth was slightly open, and the tip of her tongue darted between those kissable lips. Two spots of color flagged each cheek.
He had to admit that he was a little stunned, too.
His impulsive announcement was foolish, to say the least. What if she was involved with someone? And if she was, why wasn’t he there to save the day? He blamed Chase Peters for these contradicting emotions that made him itch to break the guy’s perfect nose— maybe knock out a few teeth while he was at it.
Instead, he placed a finger under Cayme’s jaw and gently pushed her mouth shut. The touch was electric.
The bookstore and people fell away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in a private cocoon.
His finger lingered on the smooth silk of her skin. He was tempted, beyond what any man should endure, to slide his palm up the side of her face and pull her close. He liked the way she smelled of fresh honeysuckle—the way she shivered under his touch. He couldn’t ignore the protective swell in his chest. With sudden clarity, he realized that this urge to protect her was exactly the reason he’d blurted out the insane announcement.
Rick swallowed the unexpected punch of desire that drove through his chest, making him want to kiss her fully on the mouth. That would be a monumental mistake because he’d probably never stop.
- Giveaway -
Prize One
Prize Two
To ENTER comment below:
1. What did you like about the sneak peek of Into Something Good?
2. Have you read Stanalei Fletcher before?
For extra entries share this post using the Facebook and Twitter buttons below. Good luck!
Winners:
Print book: Tessa
Gift card: Sarah
 | Morgan Tenbey, third son of Viscount Ramsbury, is called home to the family’s country estate. His father declares that it’s time to set aside his love of fast horses, gambling, and high fashion in order to take a position as vicar. Unable to imagine a life outside of London, Morgan believes he'll be miserable forever, until he meets Davie, a groom in the family stables. Davie fled his last post in Scotland after his employer discovered him kissing the wrong person, but history seems doomed to repeat itself when Davie falls for Morgan. Can two people who feel like they’ll never belong find their way to a future together? |
- SNEAK PEEK -
The west pasture had a few distant horses grazing, bright splashes of chestnut and white against the green grass. Neat hedgerows marched around the edges of the pasture, only broken here and there by stone fencing. Morgan had been worried about tracking down Davie, who could have been anywhere in the field, but for once, Morgan’s luck held.
The closest gate hung open, one post missing. Davie, his red curls gilded by the sunlight—as if the fellow needed an extra layer of pretty—stood with his hands on his hips, inspecting the gate. His braces dangled down beside his legs, and his shirt was untucked with the collar hanging open. The sleeves were pushed up above Davie’s elbows, revealing muscled forearms dusted with dark auburn hair.
How unfair.
Davie bent over, his trousers pulling tight against his rear.
Morgan knew quite a bit of scripture that he should probably be reciting at the moment, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember a lick of it. Honestly, he hadn’t come out here to be tempted.
With a grunt, Davie hefted a new fence post. He wrestled it over to the hole and dropped it in. The man’s shoulders were a work of art. At his sides, Morgan’s hands curled into fists. No touching allowed. His lower lip tried to creep out. He had to force himself not to pout like a spoiled toddler.
Tilting his head back, Davie groaned and rolled his shoulders. He grabbed the tails of his shirt and pulled them up, wiping sweat from his face. A sliver of his back was revealed. The skin, pale and smooth, practically begged to be caressed.
Morgan’s nails dug into his palms. “Excuse me,” he called. At the rate this was going, the fellow would be opening his trousers to tug at himself before noticing Morgan was standing a few feet away.
Davie spun, dropping his shirt. There was a startled bark from the long grass, and the little terrier from the night before poked her head out. She took one look at Morgan and promptly disappeared back into her bower. He must not be very threatening.
“Er, hello,” Davie said, tugging at his forelock. “Is Handsome all right? Did you need me to saddle him?” The lilt of his voice complemented the bucolic scene around them, like the man was part of the landscape itself. Drat him. And did he have to be so amiable?
Morgan straightened to his full height. He was still a head shorter than Davie, though the hat alleviated some of the difference. It didn’t matter anyway. Morgan had never minded a man being a bit taller and broader than himself. “There’s no way to put too fine a point on this,” he started. “I suppose I might as well just come out and say it.”
One red eyebrow lifted. “Please do.”
“Well, I’m here … I’m here to bribe you.” There, now it was out in the open.
Davie’s other brow lifted. “Ah, right. May I ask why?”
Morgan heaved a sigh. “Your silence? Not running to my father and telling him about my sins?”
“What sins?”
This was impossible. “Do you want me to spell it out, so you have the words to send me to the gallows with?” Morgan sputtered. “Shall I describe exactly what I was thinking, and you can toss that in there too? Maybe put it in writing?”
“Wait.” Davie rubbed his temple. “Is this about—” He cut off his words and craned his neck as if looking for anyone spying on them from the shrubbery.
“We’re quite alone,” Morgan snapped.
Davie still cut his eyes left and right again, then drew closer to Morgan. “That’s a very lovely outfit you’re wearing. It looks good on you.”
“Everything looks good on me.”
Davie’s adam’s apple did an interesting bob. “Look, is this about you almost kissing me? Last night?”
“No, all the other times.” Morgan winced at Davie’s blank look. “Yes, last night. I can pay you a hundred pounds to not breathe a word of it to anyone. Not Ramsbury, and not to the magistrate. Don’t even confess it to the vicar.”
A slow smile spread over Davie’s face and his eyes twinkled. “Aren’t you a vicar? Or you will be, soon enough. Should I confess it to you?”
“Are you teasing me?” Morgan had no idea how to respond. Actually, he knew exactly how he wanted to respond, kissing that smug smile right off the bastard’s lips.
“A little, but don’t fret, I’m not about to set my tongue wagging. So you can take yourself back to the manor and do whatever it is you do. Get your shirts starched or the like.” Davie gave Morgan a sharp nod before turning to the gate.
Had he just been dismissed? How rude.
The closest gate hung open, one post missing. Davie, his red curls gilded by the sunlight—as if the fellow needed an extra layer of pretty—stood with his hands on his hips, inspecting the gate. His braces dangled down beside his legs, and his shirt was untucked with the collar hanging open. The sleeves were pushed up above Davie’s elbows, revealing muscled forearms dusted with dark auburn hair.
How unfair.
Davie bent over, his trousers pulling tight against his rear.
Morgan knew quite a bit of scripture that he should probably be reciting at the moment, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember a lick of it. Honestly, he hadn’t come out here to be tempted.
With a grunt, Davie hefted a new fence post. He wrestled it over to the hole and dropped it in. The man’s shoulders were a work of art. At his sides, Morgan’s hands curled into fists. No touching allowed. His lower lip tried to creep out. He had to force himself not to pout like a spoiled toddler.
Tilting his head back, Davie groaned and rolled his shoulders. He grabbed the tails of his shirt and pulled them up, wiping sweat from his face. A sliver of his back was revealed. The skin, pale and smooth, practically begged to be caressed.
Morgan’s nails dug into his palms. “Excuse me,” he called. At the rate this was going, the fellow would be opening his trousers to tug at himself before noticing Morgan was standing a few feet away.
Davie spun, dropping his shirt. There was a startled bark from the long grass, and the little terrier from the night before poked her head out. She took one look at Morgan and promptly disappeared back into her bower. He must not be very threatening.
“Er, hello,” Davie said, tugging at his forelock. “Is Handsome all right? Did you need me to saddle him?” The lilt of his voice complemented the bucolic scene around them, like the man was part of the landscape itself. Drat him. And did he have to be so amiable?
Morgan straightened to his full height. He was still a head shorter than Davie, though the hat alleviated some of the difference. It didn’t matter anyway. Morgan had never minded a man being a bit taller and broader than himself. “There’s no way to put too fine a point on this,” he started. “I suppose I might as well just come out and say it.”
One red eyebrow lifted. “Please do.”
“Well, I’m here … I’m here to bribe you.” There, now it was out in the open.
Davie’s other brow lifted. “Ah, right. May I ask why?”
Morgan heaved a sigh. “Your silence? Not running to my father and telling him about my sins?”
“What sins?”
This was impossible. “Do you want me to spell it out, so you have the words to send me to the gallows with?” Morgan sputtered. “Shall I describe exactly what I was thinking, and you can toss that in there too? Maybe put it in writing?”
“Wait.” Davie rubbed his temple. “Is this about—” He cut off his words and craned his neck as if looking for anyone spying on them from the shrubbery.
“We’re quite alone,” Morgan snapped.
Davie still cut his eyes left and right again, then drew closer to Morgan. “That’s a very lovely outfit you’re wearing. It looks good on you.”
“Everything looks good on me.”
Davie’s adam’s apple did an interesting bob. “Look, is this about you almost kissing me? Last night?”
“No, all the other times.” Morgan winced at Davie’s blank look. “Yes, last night. I can pay you a hundred pounds to not breathe a word of it to anyone. Not Ramsbury, and not to the magistrate. Don’t even confess it to the vicar.”
A slow smile spread over Davie’s face and his eyes twinkled. “Aren’t you a vicar? Or you will be, soon enough. Should I confess it to you?”
“Are you teasing me?” Morgan had no idea how to respond. Actually, he knew exactly how he wanted to respond, kissing that smug smile right off the bastard’s lips.
“A little, but don’t fret, I’m not about to set my tongue wagging. So you can take yourself back to the manor and do whatever it is you do. Get your shirts starched or the like.” Davie gave Morgan a sharp nod before turning to the gate.
Had he just been dismissed? How rude.
- Giveaway -
 Prize One |  Prize Two |
To ENTER comment below:
1. Why do you want to read High Strung?
2. Have you read Hannah Morse before?
For extra entries share this post using the Facebook and Twitter buttons below. Good luck!
WINNERS:
$15 gift card: James Cox
$10 gift card: Sarah
 | One night of magic. That’s all they had together but it changed both their lives. Multi-millionaire Oliver Maxwell, 51, despairs of ever finding the woman who stole his heart that night. Renowned artist Simone St Ives, 46, also knows her life was forever altered by that one chance encounter. Both doubt they’ll ever find their soul mate again. Because finding each other seems impossible when all they know about the other is their first name. |
SNEAK PEEK
“What the fuck do you mean, you can’t find her?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Maxwell, but with so little to go on…” The nondescript man facing Oliver shrugged his shoulders, his arms apart in a gesture of defeat. He looked hesitant as he added, “I mean we don’t even have a last name, and you told me you can’t even be sure she lives in this city.”
Oliver’s deep growl escaped his throat without warning then he sighed. He knew the private investigator was correct, but it didn’t sit easily with him. He had to let go of his anger.
He drew in several deep breaths then nodded. “I understand completely, and I’m sorry. I do know you’ve done your best.”
“If we just had something else.” The plaintive note in his voice wasn’t lost on Oliver. “Even a last name, a suburb, a place of employment. Anything.”
Hundreds of times each day, Oliver wished he had the same things as he replied, “Thanks. If I discover any of those you’ll be the first to know.”
Both rose and shook hands, with the PI scuttling as fast as he could from the office. Yep, he’s glad to leave. Oliver sank back onto his chair, laying his head on his hands. He’d tried everything he could think of during the past three weeks to find his mystery woman to no avail. He had to face facts—she was gone.
I need you, where are you?
One night, that’s all they had, just one night. But it would be burnt into his memory forever. No other woman would, or could, ever come close to her. His life had been forever changed by one chance encounter. Oliver’s mind went back to that night, as it had done so often in the last three weeks.
He still couldn’t remember why he’d gone down in the elevator … probably something to do with the charity auction he’d been involved in. When the doors opened on the ground floor, a vision in cream entered the carriage. Oliver couldn’t move, he just stared at her. She looked over at him, her vivid green eyes widened, and he felt a jolt somewhere around his heart. She pressed a button.
Her melodic voice sent shivers down his spine as she asked, “What floor?”
“Wherever you’re going.”
Her mouth had opened slightly as she continued staring at him, taking one step toward him as if pulled by a huge magnet. It was as though they were the only two people left in the world. The doors began to close and Oliver quickly pushed forty as he stepped closer to her, his arm brushed against hers and she gasped. They both just stood there, so close to each other, staring into each other’s eyes. The elevator stopped and its doors began to open on the twentieth floor. She ignored the beckoning hallway and stayed looking at him. Upward they rode until they heard--ding, the fortieth floor.
To this day Oliver had no idea why he did it, nor why on earth she accepted, but he held out his hand and stood in the open elevator doorway. She looked at his upturned hand, then back to his face and with a smile that could have sunk a thousand ships, she put her hand in his. They walked in silence down the corridor.
Somehow he managed to pull his key-card from his pocket, then open the door to his hotel suite. He kicked it shut as they entered and the next second they were in each other’s arms. Her kisses were as frantic as his. They both tore at each other’s clothes until finally both were naked.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Maxwell, but with so little to go on…” The nondescript man facing Oliver shrugged his shoulders, his arms apart in a gesture of defeat. He looked hesitant as he added, “I mean we don’t even have a last name, and you told me you can’t even be sure she lives in this city.”
Oliver’s deep growl escaped his throat without warning then he sighed. He knew the private investigator was correct, but it didn’t sit easily with him. He had to let go of his anger.
He drew in several deep breaths then nodded. “I understand completely, and I’m sorry. I do know you’ve done your best.”
“If we just had something else.” The plaintive note in his voice wasn’t lost on Oliver. “Even a last name, a suburb, a place of employment. Anything.”
Hundreds of times each day, Oliver wished he had the same things as he replied, “Thanks. If I discover any of those you’ll be the first to know.”
Both rose and shook hands, with the PI scuttling as fast as he could from the office. Yep, he’s glad to leave. Oliver sank back onto his chair, laying his head on his hands. He’d tried everything he could think of during the past three weeks to find his mystery woman to no avail. He had to face facts—she was gone.
I need you, where are you?
One night, that’s all they had, just one night. But it would be burnt into his memory forever. No other woman would, or could, ever come close to her. His life had been forever changed by one chance encounter. Oliver’s mind went back to that night, as it had done so often in the last three weeks.
He still couldn’t remember why he’d gone down in the elevator … probably something to do with the charity auction he’d been involved in. When the doors opened on the ground floor, a vision in cream entered the carriage. Oliver couldn’t move, he just stared at her. She looked over at him, her vivid green eyes widened, and he felt a jolt somewhere around his heart. She pressed a button.
Her melodic voice sent shivers down his spine as she asked, “What floor?”
“Wherever you’re going.”
Her mouth had opened slightly as she continued staring at him, taking one step toward him as if pulled by a huge magnet. It was as though they were the only two people left in the world. The doors began to close and Oliver quickly pushed forty as he stepped closer to her, his arm brushed against hers and she gasped. They both just stood there, so close to each other, staring into each other’s eyes. The elevator stopped and its doors began to open on the twentieth floor. She ignored the beckoning hallway and stayed looking at him. Upward they rode until they heard--ding, the fortieth floor.
To this day Oliver had no idea why he did it, nor why on earth she accepted, but he held out his hand and stood in the open elevator doorway. She looked at his upturned hand, then back to his face and with a smile that could have sunk a thousand ships, she put her hand in his. They walked in silence down the corridor.
Somehow he managed to pull his key-card from his pocket, then open the door to his hotel suite. He kicked it shut as they entered and the next second they were in each other’s arms. Her kisses were as frantic as his. They both tore at each other’s clothes until finally both were naked.
GIVEAWAY:
Prize One
| Prize Two | Prize Three |
TO ENTER YOU MUST COMMENT BELOW:
1. What was your favorite part of the sneak peek of Lost and Found?
2. Have you read Suzy Shearer before?
For extra entries share this post using the Facebook and Twitter buttons below. Good luck!
Winners:
Gift card: Tamara
Prize List book: Deb and Melissa
A brilliant Native American archaeology grad student and her Brit 'bad boy' professor find the key to love, hot sex and...what? A lost civilization?
Four members of The Vampire Guard—Forge, Blair, Declan, and Lucas—face a dangerous and elusive enemy.
A million-dollar bounty on her head, Tammy’s life is sheer mayhem. Now a dangerous and sexy Alpha wolf decides she’s his mate.
An ex-boyfriend, his massive dog, her house, and no hotel room in sight. What could go wrong?
Will he be able to transform himself into what Ro and the Midnight Scorpions need, yet still retain his humanity?
SMART AND SEXY ROMANCE
Featured Author
BOOK OF THE MONTH
After missed opportunities in high school, Cooper and Lidia reunite in college and have a second chance to fall in love.
A girl with no fear and the infamous captain of a ship that carts the dead. This isn't your usual fairy tale.
ALL PRIZES MUST BE CLAIMED WITHIN A WEEK OF RECEIVING THE WINNING EMAIL.
Categories
All
2 Stars
3 Stars
4 Stars
4 Stars
5 Stars
Action
Adventure
Angels
Anthology
Apocalyptic
Astraea Press
Author Acacia Awai
Author A.C. Ellas
Author Adam Penenberg
Author Adam Santo
Author Adam Slade
Author Addison Lockwood
Author Adonis Devereux
Author Adriana Kraft
Author Aimee Laine
Author A.J. Llewellyn
Author Aj Llewellyn
Author A.J. Marcus
Author Alan Jacobson
Author Alaska Angelini
Author Alexandra Bracken
Author Alexandra O
Author Alexandra O'Hurley
Author Alexandra O'Hurley
Author Alexa Piper
Author Alexa Snow
Author Alex Carreras
Author Alexx Andria
Author Ali Atwood
Author Alice Archer
Author Alice Gaines
Author Alicia Nordwell
Author Aliyah Burke
Author Allan Leverone
Author Allison Merritt
Author Allison Packard
Author Allyson Carter
Author Alyse Raines
Author Alysha Ellis
Author Alyssa Fox
Author Amabel Daniels
Author Amanda Marie
Author Amanda Mariel
Author Amber Daulton
Author Amber Kell
Author Amber Moore
Author Amber Morgan
Author Ambrielle Kirk
Author AM Riley
Author AM Wade
Author Amy Lane
Author Amy Noelle
Author Amy Quinton
Author Amy Strychasz
Author Ana Raina
Author Andi Bremner
Author Andra Lake
Author Andrea Downing
Author Andre Santhomas
Author Andrew Grey
Author Andy Weir
Author Angela Addams
Author Angela Claire
Author Angela Knight
Author Angelina Rain
Author Angelique Voisen
Author Angel Martinez
Author Ani Gonzales
Author Anise Storm
Author Anna Durand
Author Ann Aguirre
Author Anna Keraleigh
Author Anna Lee
Author Annalynne Russo
Author Anne Armistead
Author Anne Kane
Author Anne McCaffrey
Author Anne Wentworth
Author Annie Harland Creek
Author Annie Morgan
Author Annie Rayburn
Author Anni Fife
Author Ann M. Miller
Author Ann Raina
Author Ann Werner
Author April Zyon
Author Arabella Wyatt
Author Ariel Atwell
Author A.R. Lain
Author Arya Grey
Author Ashe Barker
Author Ashlynn Monroe
Author Astrid Cooper
Author Ava Miles
Author Avery Flynn
Author Avon Gale
Author Avril Ashton
Author Ayla Asher
Author Ayla Ruse
Author Bailey Bradford
Author B.A. Tortuga
Author Becca Turner
Author Becky Moore
Author Bec Mcmaster
Author Belinda McBride
Author Belita Renn
Author Belle Ami
Author Berengaria Brown
Author Bethany Kris
Author Bethany-Kris
Author Bethany Michaels
Author Beth D. Carter
Author Beverly Price
Author B.G. Thomas
Author B.J. McCall
Author Brad Carter
Author Bradley Convissar
Author Brandi Evans
Author Brita Addams
Author Bronwyn Heeley
Author Brooke Taylor
Author Cailin Briste
Author Cait Jarrod
Author Caitlin Ricci
Author Caitlyn Willows
Author Cameron Allie
Author Cardeno C.
Author Cari Davis
Author Cari Z
Author Carla Neggers
Author Carlene Love Flores
Author Carole Ann Moleti
Author Carole Cummings
Author Caroline Peterka
Author Caroline Rosewood
Author Carol Storm
Author Carolyn Holland
Author Carolyn Rosewood
Author Carryn W. Kerr
Author Cassandra Clare
Author Cat Blaine
Author Catherin Curzon
Author Catherine Lievens
Author Catherine Peace
Author Cathy Maxwell
Author Cathy Pegau
Author CC Bridges
Author Cecile Tellier
Author Cecilia Aubrey
Author Ceeree Fields
Author Celine Chantillon
Author Celine Chatillon
Author Cerise DeLand
Author Chacelyn Pierce
Author Chanse Lowell
Author Charisma Knight
Author Charlaine Harris
Author Charlene Love Flores
Author Charlie Richards
Author Charlie Richards
Author Cherie Denis
Author Cherry Lee
Author Cheryl Brooks
Author Cheryl Dragon
Author Cheryl Yeko
Author Chris Almeida
Author Chris Lange
Author Christa Maurice
Author Christi Barth
Author Christina Dodd
Author Christine Anna Kirchoff
Author Christine Depetrillo
Author Christine Rees
Author Christine Warren
Author Christi Williams
Author Chris T. Kat
Author Christle Gray
Author Cici Cordelia
Author Cindy Gerard
Author Ck Burch
Author Claire Gem
Author Claire Gillian
Author Clare London
Author Connie Mason
Author Cotton Davis
Author C.R. Moss
Author Crymsyn Hart
Author Cynthia Sax
Author Dahlia Dewinters
Author Dakota Cassidy
Author Dale Cameron Lowery
Author Damon Suede
Author Dana Wright
Author Dania Voss
Author Danielle Gauwain
Author Darlette Clark
Author David Holley
Author David Russell
Author Dawn Brower
Author Dawn Flemington
Author D.C. Stone
Author Deanne Felthauser
Author Deborah Garland
Author Debra Borys
Author Dee Ernst
Author Dee Willson
Author Deidre Huesmann
Author Delilah Fawkes
Author Delilah Hunt
Author Denise Jaden
Author Denver Batiste
Author Desiree Holt
Author Destiny Blaine
Author D.F. Krieger
Author Diane Nelson
Author Dianna Hunter
Author Dirk Greyson
Author Dj Manly
Author DJ Michaels
Author Dolce
Author Donina Lynn
Author Donna Steele
Author Donnell Ann Bell
Author Donnie Whetstone
Author Doris O'Connor
Author Dorothy Kane Liddle
Author DP Lyle
Author Drea Becraft
Author D.S. Dehel
Author D.X. Luc
Author E.E. Montgomery
Author Eileen Griffin
Author Eleanor Bruce
Author Elena Kincaid
Author Eli Easton
Author Elin Gregory
Author Elise Marion
Author Elizabeth Coldwell
Author Elizabeth Daniels
Author Elizabeth Jewell
Author Elizabeth Monvey
Author Elizabeth Noble
Author Elizabeth Raines
Author Ella Grey
Author Elle Aycart
Author Ellen Cross
Author Ellen Mint
Author Elliott Cooper
Author Ellis Kaye
Author Elly Blake
Author Elodie Parkes
Author EL Reedy
Author Elyse Spinger
Author Elyzabeth Valey
Author Emily Suvada
Author Emma Gold
Author Emma Pass
Author Emma Shortt
Author Empi Baryeh
Author Erica Lynn
Author Eric Matheny
Author Erika Lindsen
Author Erin Leaf
Author Erin Lynn
Author Erzabet Bishop
Author Esri Rose
Author Ethan Stone
Author Eva Evans
Author Evi Asher
Author Evie Jayne
Author Evie Knight
Author Faith Talbot
Author Faye Avalon
Author F.E. Feeley Jr
Author Felicia Rogers
Author Fiona McGier
Author Fiona Miers
Author Fionn Jameson
Author Frances Pauli
Author Francis Gideon
Author Gabriella Bradley
Author Gail Koger
Author Gale Stanley
Author Gayle Donnelly
Author Gene Doucette
Author George Wright Padgett
Author Georgia Fox
Author G.G. Royale
Author Gina Wynn
Author Giselle Renarde
Author Gloria Joynt-Lang
Author Gordon Hooper
Author Grace R. Duncan
Author Greg Kosebjorn
Author Griffin Hayes
Author G.W. And Paula Callway
Author Gwendolyn Casey
Author Hallie Alexander
Author Hank Ryan
Author Hannah Morse
Author Harley Wylde
Author Harper McDavid
Author Hazel Gower
Author Heather Graham
Author Heather Kinnane
Author Heather Long
Author Helena Maeve
Author Hennessee Andrews
Author H.K. Carlton
Author HK Carlton
Author H.L. Day
Author H.L. Holston
Author Honey
Author Honor James
Author India Masters
Author Inger Wolf
Author Ingrid Hahn
Author Isabella Ellis
Author Isabella Jordan
Author Isabella Laase
Author Isabelle Adler
Author Isabel Raven
Author J.A. Belfield
Author Jacey Holbrand
Author Jackie Nacht
Author Jaime Fessenden
Author Jambrea Jo Jones
Author James Cox
Author James Lear
Author Jamie Craig
Author Jana Richards
Author Jane Davitt
Author J. Arlene Culiner
Author Jason Kristopher
Author Jayce Carter
Author Jayelle Morgan
Author Jay Hogan
Author Jaylee Austin
Author Jaymie Holland
Author Jayne Fresina
Author J. Brooke
Author J.C. Ellas
Author Jc Holly
Author J.C. Long
Author J.C. Martin
Author JC Raefael
Author Jeanine Englert
Author Jean Maxwell
Author Jeffery Deaver
Author Jenika Snow
Author Jenna Black
Author Jenna Ives
Author Jennifer Bray Weber
Author Jennifer Bray-Weber
Author Jennifer Gravely
Author Jennifer Labelle
Author Jennifer Lynne
Author Jennifer Rush
Author Jennifer Shea
Author Jenny Lyn
Author Jeremiah Pinto
Author Jess Buffett
Author Jesse Petersen
Author Jessica Coulter Smith
Author Jessica Jayne
Author Jessica Marting
Author Jessica Park
Author Jessie Pinkham
Author Jess K. Hardy
Author Jewel Quinlan
Author Jezebel Jorge
Author Jianne Carlo
Author Jj King
Author J.J. Lore
Author J. Leigh Bailey
Author J.L. Langley
Author J.L. Sheppard
Author Jocelyn Adams
Author Joe Cosentino
Author Joey Hook
Author John Heldt
Author John Inman
Author John Lescroart
Author John Ling
Author John Tristan
Author Jojo Brown
Author Jon Keys
Author Jon Land
Author Jon Ripslinger
Author Joseph Badal
Author Jovanna Rodolakis
Author JP Bowie
Author J.R. Gray
Author J.S. Marlo
Author Jt Harding
Author Jude Mason
Author Judy And Keith
Author Jules Dixon
Author Julia Barrett
Author Julia Talbot
Author Julie Kagawa
Author Julie Lynn Hayes
Author Julie Reese
Author Juliet Chastain
Author Kacey Hammell
Author Kacey Mark
Author Kady Cross
Author Kait Gamble
Author Kai Tyler
Author K.A. Mitchell
Author Karly Germain
Author Karrie Roman
Author Kasi Alexander
Author Kassandra Lea
Author Kastil Eavenshade
Author Kat Barrett
Author Kat De Falla
Author Kate Charlton
Author Kate Hill
Author Kate Milton
Author Katerina Ross
Author Kate Zarrelli
Author Katherine Grey
Author Katherine McIntyre
Author Katherine Wyvern
Author Katheryn Bain
Author Kathleen Ball
Author Kathy Clark
Author Kat Latham
Author Katri Cardew
Author Katriena Knights
Author Kat Ross
Author Kayden Claremont
Author Kay Springsteen
Author K.B. Forrest
Author K.C. Wells
Author Kef Hollenback
Author Keiko Alvarez
Author Keira Andrews
Author Kele Moon
Author Kelley Armstrong
Author Kellie Kamryn
Author Kelly Said
Author Kelly Yeakle
Author Kelsey Blue
Author Kelsey Grammer
Author Kera Faire
Author Kerri Nelson
Author Kerri Patterson
Author Kevin Broden
Author Kevin O'Brien
Author K.H. LeMoyne
Author Khloe Wren
Author K.H. Mezek
Author Kim Aleksander
Author Kimberly Ann Miller
Author Kimberly Duncan
Author Kimberly Hunter
Author Kim Bowman
Author Kim Fielding
Author Kim Harrison
Author Kresley Cole
Author Kris Bock
Author Kryssie Fortune
Author Lacee Hightower
Author Landra Graf
Author Lane Stark
Author Lara Adrian
Author Larissa Vine
Author Larry Kahn
Author Laura Griffin
Author Laura Jardine
Author Laura Kaye
Author Laura Lascarso
Author Laura M. Baird
Author Laurell K. Hamilton
Author Lauren DeStefano
Author Lauren Pilla
Author Lauren Smith
Author Laurisa White Reyes
Author L.A. Witt
Author L.D. Blakeley
Author Lea Barrymire
Author Lea Bronsen
Author Leah Leonard
Author Lee Ann Murphy
Author Lee Ann Sontheimer
Author Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy
Author LeeAnn Sontheimer Murphy
Author Lee Ann Ward
Author Lee Ash
Author Lee Brazil
Author Lee Lackey
Author Leigh Lane
Author Leigh M Lane
Author Lia Fairchild
Author Libby Bishop
Author Lilac James
Author Lila Shaw
Author Lili Draguer
Author Lilith Duvalier
Author Lilly Gayle
Author Lily Harlem
Author Linda Carroll-Bradd
Author Linda Howard
Author Lindsey Ouimet
Author Linwood Barclay
Author Lisa Beth Darling
Author Lisabet Sarai
Author Lisa Cronkhite
Author Lisa Henry
Author Lisa Jackson
Author Liv Rancourt
Author Liza Kay
Author Liz Borino
Author Liz Crowe
Author Liz Flaherty
Author L.J. Longo
Author L.M. Brown
Author L.M. Somerton
Author LM Spangler
Author L.M. Stull
Author Lola Drake
Author Lola White
Author Lolly Tova
Author London James
Author London Saint James
Author LoraLynne Summers
Author Lorhainne Eckhart
Author Lori Whyte
Author Lorraine Nelson
Author Louise Collins
Author L.R. Wright
Author Lucy Felthouse
Author Luke N. Glass
Author Luxie Ryder
Author L.V. Lloyd
Author Lydia Michaels
Author Lyn Brittan
Author Lynde Lakes
Author Lyn Gala
Author Lynn Burke
Author Lynn Crain
Author Lynne St. James
Author Lynne Williams
Author M.A. Church
Author Mackenzie Crowne
Author Madame Z
Author Madison Night
Author Magali A. Frechette
Author Maggie Blackbird
Author Maia Dylan
Author M.A. Jewell
Author Makayla Roberts
Author Margaret Fortune
Author Marian Perera
Author Maria Velovich
Author Maria Violante
Author Marie Lark
Author Marie Lu
Author Marie Medina
Author Marie Piper
Author Marie Sexton
Author Marin Black
Author Marisa Dillon
Author Marissa Meyer
Author Mark Alders
Author Mark Stone
Author Marsha Canham
Author Marteeka Karland
Author Maryse Dawson
Author Mason Thomas
Author Massimo Marino
Author M.A. Stacie
Author Matilda Janes
Author Matt Nicholson
Author M.C. Roth
Author M.C. Vaughan
Author Megan Derr
Author Megan Linden
Author Megan Linski
Author Megan Martin
Author Megan Matthews
Author Megan Morgan
Author Megan Slayer
Author Melinda Duchamp
Author Melissa Harlow
Author Melissa J. Crispin
Author Melisse Aires
Author Mellaine Szereto
Author Mellanie Szereto
Author Melodie Campbell
Author Melody Clark
Author Meredith J. Scott
Author M. Garnet
Author M.H. Mead
Author Mia Marlowe
Author Michael Bienenstock
Author Michael Buzzelli
Author Michael Murphy
Author Michelle Bellon
Author Michelle Birbeck
Author Michelle Graham
Author Michelle King
Author Michelle Mccleod
Author Michelle Roth
Author Michelle Stevens
Author Michel Prince
Author Miho Li
Author Mikala Ash
Author Mike O'Connor
Author Mimi Barbour
Author Mindi Ferrari
Author Mireille Chester
Author Mitzi Szereto
Author MJ Calabrese
Author MJ Compton
Author M. Levesque
Author ML Uberti
Author Moira Callahan
Author Molly Ann Wishlade
Author Monica Corwin
Author Morgan Elektra
Author Morgan King
Author Morticia Knight
Author Nalini Singh
Author Nan Comargue
Author Nan Reinhardt
Author Naomi Clark
Author Nash Summers
Author Natalie Hancock
Author N.C. East
Author Neil Plakcy
Author Nell Carson
Author Nell Rockhill
Author Nena Duran
Author Nicola Cameron
Author Nicole Godfrey
Author Nic Starr
Author Niki Hayes
Author Nikka Michaels
Author Nikki Lynn Barrett
Author Nikki Prince
Author Nina Pierce
Author N. Isabelle Bianco
Author N.J. Walters
Author N.J. Young
Author Nora LeDuc
Author Nora Roberts
Author NS Howard
Author Olivia Hutchinson
Author Olivia R. Burton
Author Olivia Starke
Author Ora Le Brocq
Author Paige Warren
Author Patty MacFarlane
Author Paula M.
Author Paul Kemprecos
Author Pelaam
Author Penny Brandon
Author Pepper Anthony
Author Peri Elizabeth Scott
Author Phoebe North
Author Piper Rhodes
Author Pippa Greathouse
Author Pmj Downing
Author Pw Crieghton
Author Qwillia Rain
Author Rachel Brimble
Author Rachel Rust
Author Raven Mcallan
Author Raven Mcallen
Author Ravenna Tate
Author Ravon Silvius
Author Rayanne Haines
Author Rayven Godchild
Author R. Brennan
Author R. Cooper
Author Rebecca Black
Author Rebecca Brochu
Author Rebecca Buchanan
Author Rebecca Fairfax
Author Rebecca Hart
Author Rebecca Hefner
Author Rebecca Rivard
Author Regina Welling
Author Renee Silvana
Author R.G. Thomas
Author Rhidian Brenig Jones
Author Rhonda Frankhouse
Author Rhys Bowen
Author Rhys Ford
Author RJ Gray
Author R.J. Scott
Author Rj Scott
Author Roberta Winchester
Author Robert Singleton
Author Robert Williams
Author Robert Wilson
Author Robin Badillo
Author Rob Rosen
Author Robyn Mackenzie
Author Rosanna Leo
Author Rose Carole
Author Rosemary Cross
Author Rose Wulf
Author Ruby Caine
Author Russell Brooks
Author Ruth Fox
Author Ryan Galloway
Author Sabrina Devonshire
Author Sadira Stone
Author Sally Brandle
Author Samantha Young
Author Samanthya Wyatt
Author S.A. McAuley
Author Sam Crescent
Author Sam Schooler
Author Sandi Layne
Author Sandra Brown
Author Sandra Bunino
Author Sandra Carmel
Author Sandra Renee Appet
Author Sandy James
Author Santino Hassell
Author Sara Brookes
Author Sarah J. Maas
Author Sarah Marsh
Author Sarah Masters
Author Sara Trimble
Author Sara Winters
Author S.A. Reid
Author Sari Shepard
Author Sari Stevens
Author Sasha Marshall
Author S.A. Stovall
Author Scarlet Chastain
Author Scarlet Fox
Author Scarlett Scott
Author Scott Collins
Author Scott Harper
Author S.C. Wynne
Author Sean Kerr
Author Sean Michael
Author Sebastian Black
Author Selena Fulton
Author Selena Michaels
Author Seleste Delaney
Author Serena Janes
Author Serenity Snow
Author Shannan Albright
Author Shannon Kirk
Author Shannon Rouchelle
Author Shari Elder
Author Sharon Bolton
Author Sharon Hughson
Author Shaun Tennant
Author Shawn Kupfer
Author Shawn Lane
Author Shea Balik
Author Sheila J. Noel
Author Shelby Morgen
Author Shelli Rosewarne
Author Sherri Hayes
Author Sheryl Winters
Author Shiloh Madison
Author Shiloh Walker
Author Shira Anthony
Author Shyla Colt
Author Shyla Wolff
Author Sierra Brave
Author Sierra Cartwright
Author S.J. Coles
Author SJD Peterson
Author Sj Johnson
Author S.J. Maylee
Author Sj Thomas
Author Skye Jones
Author Sofie Darling
Author Sol Crafter
Author Sonia Hightower
Author Stacey Espino
Author Stanalei Fletcher
Author Stefan Angelina McElvain
Author Stella Berkley
Author Stella Marie Alden
Author Stephanie Bedwell-Grime
Author Stephanie Berget
Author Stephanie Burke
Author Stephani Hecht
Author Stephani Hecht
Author Stephenie Meyer
Author Stormy Corrin Russell
Author S.T. Sterlings
Author Sue Brown
Author Sue Holston
Author Sue Roebuck
Author Sui Lynn
Author Susan B. James
Author Susan Ee
Author Susan Hayes
Author Susan Laine
Author Suzanne Robb
Author Suzy Shearer
Author Swann Wilde
Author Tabitha Marks
Author Talia Logan
Author Tamsin Baker
Author Tanith Davenport
Author Tara Chevrestt
Author Tarah Scott
Author Tara Lain
Author Tara Quan
Author Taryn Jameson
Author Taryn Kincaid
Author Tatum Throne
Author T.A. Venedicktov
Author Tc Archer
Author Tc Collins
Author Temple Madison
Author Tere Michaels
Author Teresa Medeiros
Author Teri Fowler
Author Terry Graham
Author Thayer King
Author Thea Landen
Author Therese Woodson
Author Thom Collins
Author Tianna Xander
Author Tierney O
Author Tiffany Marie
Author Tigertalez
Author Tim Greaton
Author Tim Smith
Author T.J. Land
Author T. Lee Garland
Author T.L. Tavis
Author TL Travis
Author T.M. Marie
Author Tobin Loshento
Author Tory Michaels
Author Tracey Sinclair
Author Tracy Tappan
Author Trent Zelazny
Author Treva Harte
Author Tricia L. Sanders
Author Tristram La Roche
Author Tyler Robbins
Author U.M. Lassiter
Author Valentina Heart
Author Valerie Bowes
Author Valerie Long
Author Vanessa Devereaux
Author Veronica Dantes
Author Vicki Savage
Author Victoria Blisse
Author Victoria Sue
Author Victoria Vallo
Author Victoria Vane
Author Viki Lyn
Author Viola Grace
Author Virginia Nelson
Author Vonna Harper
Author V.S. Nelson
Author V.S. Tice
Author Wade Kelly
Author Wayne Basta
Author Wayne Greenough
Author Wendi Zwaduk
Author Wend Petzler
Author Whitney K.E
Author William Cook
Author Win Hollows
Author Wren Michaels
Author Wynter Daniels
Author Xandra James
Author Xavier Axelson
Author Xondra Day
Author Zayne Michaels
Author Zenina Master
Author Zenina Masters
BBW
Bdsm
Bell Books
Belle Books
Biography
Bi-sexual
Blog Hop
Blushing Books
Book Of The Month
Book Spotlight
Buddy Read
Changeling Press
Cheating
Chic Lit
Children
Christmas
Comedy
Contemporary
Contest Winners
Cougar
Cowboy
Cross Dressing
Dark
Darker Pleasure Books
Dark Romance
Dark Young Adult
Decadent Publishing
Dee C. May
Demons
Dragons
Drama
Dreamspinner Press
Dystopian
Erotic
Erotica
Evernight Publisher
Evernight Publishing
Evernight Teen
Evernight Teen Publishing
Extasy Books
Extasy Books
Fae/Fairy
Fairy
Fairytale
Fairy Tale
Fantasty
Fantasy
Fetish
F/F
Finch Books
Firefigher Romance
Futuristic
Gay
Ghosts
Goddess Fish Promotions
Grey Grecko Press
Historical
Holiday
Horror
Humor
Inspirational
Interracial
Ireland
Jewish
J Taylor Publishing
J. Taylor Publishing
L.A Marlowe
Leprechaun
Lesbian
Lgbtq
Loose ID
Magic
Mainstream
Mature Romance
May/December
MC Romance
Medical Drama
Medieval
Menage
Mermaid
Mermen
M/F/F
Military
Mm
M/M
MMF
M/M/F
M/M/M
M/m/m/m
M/M/M/M/M/M
Mpreg
Multiple Partners
Music
Mystery
Mythology
Native American
NineStar Press
Older H/H
Older Romance
Orgasmic
Paranormal
Pirates
Poetry
Post Apocalyptic
Post-Apocalyptic
Pride Publishing
Prison
Religious
Reverse Harem
Reviewer Amanda
Reviewer Amanda
Reviewer Amy
Reviewer Bella Star
Reviewer Brutally Honest
Reviewer Cecile
Reviewer Christine
Reviewer Daniella
Reviewer Donna
Reviewer Erica
Reviewer Fiona
Reviewer Jean
Reviewer Jessica
Reviewer Laurie P
Reviewer Liberty Ann
Reviewer Missy
Reviewer Shannon
Reviewer Shyla
Reviewer Stefan
Reviewer Victoria
Roane Publishing
Roaring Twenties
Rodney Ross
Romance
Romantic
Romantic Comedy
Romantic Suspense
Rubenesque
Science Fiction
Scifi
Sci Fi Romance
Scottish Romance
Secret Cravings Publishing
Shifter
Short
Siren
Siren Publishing
Soul Mate Publishing
Sports Romance
Steampunk
Superhero
Suspense
Sweet Romance
Taboo
Tear Jerker
Teaser Thursday
The Writers Coffee Shop
Thiller
Thriller
Time Travel
Totally Bound Publishing
Transgender
Urban Fantasy
Valerie Douglas
Vampire
Viking
War
Werewolves
Western
Western Romance
Witch
Witches
Women's Fiction
World War Two
Young Adult
Zombie
Zombies
Archives
September 2021
August 2021
July 2021
June 2021
May 2021
April 2021
March 2021
February 2021
January 2021
December 2020
November 2020
October 2020
September 2020
August 2020
July 2020
June 2020
May 2020
April 2020
March 2020
February 2020
January 2020
December 2019
November 2019
October 2019
September 2019
August 2019
July 2019
June 2019
May 2019
April 2019
March 2019
February 2019
January 2019
December 2018
November 2018
October 2018
September 2018
August 2018
July 2018
June 2018
May 2018
April 2018
March 2018
February 2018
January 2018
December 2017
November 2017
October 2017
September 2017
August 2017
July 2017
June 2017
May 2017
April 2017
March 2017
February 2017
January 2017
December 2016
November 2016
October 2016
September 2016
August 2016
July 2016
June 2016
May 2016
April 2016
March 2016
February 2016
January 2016
December 2015
November 2015
October 2015
September 2015
August 2015
July 2015
June 2015
May 2015
April 2015
March 2015
February 2015
January 2015
December 2014
November 2014
October 2014
September 2014
August 2014
July 2014
June 2014
May 2014
April 2014
March 2014
February 2014
January 2014
December 2013
November 2013
October 2013
September 2013
August 2013
July 2013
June 2013
May 2013
April 2013
March 2013
February 2013
January 2013
December 2012
November 2012
October 2012
September 2012
August 2012
July 2012
June 2012
May 2012
April 2012
March 2012
February 2012
January 2012
December 2011
November 2011
October 2011
September 2011
August 2011
July 2011
June 2011
May 2011
April 2011
