The Rantings & Ravings of Jeanne St. James

New Release: Taken Bi Love by Amber Rose Thompson

2011-11-30T20:34:00.001-05:00

Blurb:

Sexfor pay is the way Brian likes it. No talking, no intimacy, no ties. His bodyfor sale to whoever pays the price. Then his sister guilts him into taking onRebecca, a virginal, man-shy customer on a pro bono basis. Soon, Rebecca's"no's" become "yes's". Now Rebecca wants him to talk beforeshe's willing to get undressed. Soon, their forced intimacy makes Brianreassess what he really wants from sex, and Rebecca throws caution to the windwhen she finds an orgasm is what makes life worth living. What neither expects isto discover their own sexuality and preferences, resulting in a surprise happyending - when each is taken by bi-love - because sometimes sex has a way ofrewriting the rules for love.

Links:

TiedTo Passion http://shop.renebooks.com/ProductDetails.asp?ProductCode=THOMPSONAR-01

TakenBi Love http://shop.renebooks.com/ProductDetails.asp?ProductCode=THOMPSONAR-02
Scheherezade’sGift http://shop.renebooks.com/ProductDetails.asp?ProductCode=THOMPSONAR-03

Excerpt:

Taken Bi Love:Chapter One

Brian cranedback his neck.

Brown hairflopped, hanging limp like beagle ears. Overhead water spurted, and hiseyes shut from the barrage as air momentarily caught in his chest. Heforced himself to breathe as the water cascaded over his nose makingrivulets down his chin and over his throat.

Skin, shavednearly free of hair from the night before, glistened with residuebody oil still clogging his pores. Water mixed with oil, causing pools ofvanilla bourbon to stain the water swirling at his feet.

Heat reactivatedthe oil, and his thoughts retreated back to the night before and theserious manhandling session; soreness still radiated outward from hisbutt hole.

Brian forcedopen his eyes; long curling lashes weighed down with water. Drops hithis eyes, forcing his thoughts back into the present. He despised itwhen clients invaded his shower space. They paid for his ass and dickin bed. No one, no one, got his shower time.

All verbalcontracts firmly stipulated shower scenes as off limits andnon–negotiable. Showers were serene, pure, clean, solitary endeavors. Somepeople meditated; Brian showered. Concept was the same butresults differed. His cleanliness was physically present in the now, notan ephemeral state of consciousness.

People seriouslyunderrated showers. With water turned on full power, soundsoutside his meditation chamber disappeared leaving him gloriouslyalone to the sanctity of soap and scalding water. Turning up thetemperature, he burned off the touch of last night. Meaty hands froma college football player, number Seventeen in specific, wereall over him, particularly the lower half.

Seventeen hadshown no interest in Brian's hair or youthful body. Instead,Seventeen had paid for a very intimate long petting, fondling, and thrashingsession with his ass and cock. Evidently the local cheer leading squadcouldn't quite satisfy Seventeen's need for dick and ass simultaneously.A cheerleader with a strap on performed quite

differently froma swollen cock yanked mercilessly from the body while the asswas drilled for oil.

Brian lookeddown at his groin hoping there was no physical bruising orabrasions to hide. None. He was in the clear. His dick hung firm, not acentimeter smaller than at its most engorged – handy oddity for hisside job. The perpetual 3-D lines of his groin helped nail potentialclients without the need for fancy clothes or winning commentary. In astrange way, his crotch meant he had a very quiet job when it cameto actual talk. And he liked it that way. He was all about thesilence.

Taking amplesoap, he lathered antiseptic gel around his cock and balls. Studyingabout contagious diseases alongside his work, meant showering wasnot only meditative but schizophrenic to a manic level, a dichotomy offorces that only water could balance. Showers were not over untilhis skin was wrinkled like a walnut shell and clean enough to use asa surgical surface. Silence and cleanliness. He was a monk with aninteresting way of making the world a better and happier place.

Cupping eachball, he massaged in the soap filling valleys and ridges of hispleated scrotum with microbe eating suds. Brain could switch betweendominant or submissive in bed, but when it came to his genitalia hepersonally pulverized the soap into them. Call it his personal fetish.While it certainly did go towards his goal of being clean, it alsofelt damn good to be the one squeezing his own balls.

Clasping eachsack, he kneaded his fingers, digging deep to hidden testicleswaiting to be stirred back to action. Hard wired, his balls rose to thestimulation, elevating towards his shaft for active duty. Prodding andpoking he shook each fistful like a cat trying to break the neck of asoft furry animal.

Juggling them,he let the shower rain over the soap tingling skin to jump alive witha hundred nerve endings sparking in response. His skin stretchedhoping for continuation.

Tugging his sackin towards his tight stomach, he exposed his shaft and ran hisfingers up and down, forming a ring between pointer and thumb. Soaptrailed over the ridge and onto his reddening head. Massaging thetip, he spread himself to let soapy water bubble around his urethralopening. Despite all lube used, friction had worn him down from hand to shaftcombat, and the soap found every sensitive spot from thetug-o-war game Seventeen had begged him to play as Seventeencharged into his ass calling out orders on how to tug or pummel.

From the heat andsoap, his cock didn't so much swell as rise up in hopes of findingan orifice to insert tab A into any slot. Brian whacked it forits impertinence at suggesting it felt needs after Seventeen'sslaughter, but the cock didn't care. Seventeen was history

and it had beenhours.

Holding hispiece by the tip, he bent it towards his perfectly triangular patchof pubic hair, the apex of the triangle pointing downwardsuggestively. Clients really had no need for graphical maps, but ifeyes were going to travel down they might as well have

something tolook at.

Brian scratchedat his ridge, playing with the scar where once a flap had been.Grooves from his nails filled with soap, and his teeth grittedautomatically. His neck extended, spine popping from being hunched over allevening and now finally allowed to straighten out.

He bounced hiscock against his palm considering the possibilities, but he had aways to go before such thoughts could be entertained. His ass itchedin a burning way. Seventeen had probably torn his flesh digging inwith coarse fingers seeking to imitate art; his own personal Goatseepicture burned onto his retina for late night replay.

Gingerly, heworked the soap down under his cock, past the perineum, andaround to counteract the itchiness that had woken him up from orgasmicdrugged sleep. Using his finger as a cleaning plunger, heworked his butthole open and corkscrewed his finger in to get all thenooks and crannies. Taking a pumice stone, he attacked his butt cheeks.

"Man, youreally take showering seriously."

Brian levitatedinto the shower stream, dropping the pumice stone on his foot."Fuck Jed. What the hell are you doing in here?"

Jed slid thebathroom door the rest of the way open, pushing the mirrored surfaceinto the wall groove. "Can't hold it any longer."

"You'vebeen in here forever." He moved his large form into the small space betweenshower and doorway, positioning himself by the toilet.

Brian yanked theshower curtain around him, spraying water outside theshower confines. "Now? You have to go now? Couldn't you have waiteda bit longer or knocked?" Brian's head peeped out from behind thecurtain.

"You didn'thear me with all that water. You're such a prude. It's not like I'mgoing in the shower with you. I've seen it all anyway."

Jed turnedsideways to face the toilet and yanked up the Hello Kitty apron he waswearing as his only clothing. From under Hello Kitty's smiling face, awarm jet stream of yellow liquid churned into the toilet.

"Jesus."Brian's head whipped behind the shower curtain.

"I can hearyou, and you shouldn't curse." Jed finished up and lowered HelloKitty to graze the top of his thighs. His ass was completelyexposed in the back under the apron strings.

"Thenfucking don't burst into my bathroom."

"Ourbathroom and if you didn't spend hours scraping off your work I wouldn'thave to." Jed looked at the plastic wrapped Brian.

"Why do youcare anyway? I've seen you naked." Jed washed his hands and driedthem slowly, making sure his fingernails were squeaky clean.

"But not inthe bathroom and not when I'm showering. It's different."Brian kicked the faucet with his foot to shut off the water.

"Why?"Jed's six foot three inches was doing a good job of making the bathroomshrink precariously.

"Because itis." Brian's hand darted out trying to reach a towel.

"I hope youdon't sound like such a baby when you're working. No wonder you needme."

"Get out ofhere."

"But you'redone. I'll get you a clean towel."

"Out. Now.And don't you dare hand me a towel." Brian balled up his fist.

Jed rolled hiseyes and shuffled out, sliding the door closed with a thud.

Brian steppedout of the shower, and yanked down a clean towel waiting on theshelf above the toilet. Jeez the man hotel rolled their towels and thenhad the audacity to act like Brian was weird one for wanting to hanga 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the bathroom door.

By the timeBrian stepped out of the bathroom with a towel cinched around hiswaist, Jed was back in the kitchen pretending to ignore him as he elegantlyflipped pancakes back onto the griddle for the final browning touch.

Brian slunk intoone of the two chairs pushed under their table. He noticed thetextbooks he'd tossed down were now neatly piled with a note taped tothem saying 'Please find me a proper home'. Jesus, Jed's a nutcase.

Brian realizedthe spatula had stopped hovering in mid-air and was now slidingpancakes onto plates already trimmed with sausage and eggs. Foodshoveling stopped, but Jed still kept his back to him.

Fucking A. Whowas being the baby now? Brian's stomach growled, demanding hecave in.

"Sorry Iyelled at you, but you surprised me." Brian rolled his eyes at Jed's back.

Jed stayedfacing the stove. "Putting a 'but' on the end of an apologynullifies it."

Brian's stomacherupted in a litany of growls. Goddamn it. "Sorry I'm aslob?"

Jed was silent,but delivered heavy plates to the table.

Brian eyed thefood. "Am I allowed to eat your food, then?"

"Like Icould stop you." Jed's chair creaked under a mass of bones and muscles ashe sat down, shielding his eyes as Brian savagely undid thepristine arrangement of food items and began a conveyor belt of food tomouth.

"True."

"Stoptalking with your mouth open. It's grotesque." Jed cut his pancakes intobite-sized pieces and put easy to swallow amounts on his fork.

"Sorry."

"You saidthat already," Jed swallowed each piece before spearing another.

Brian dug histhighs into the edge of the chair. "Why do we always fight themorning after?"

"We aren'tfighting."

"Good toknow." Brian waited for Jed to look then rolled his eyes.

"Last nightwas cocky." Jed pushed a sausage around in circles.

Brian broke hishand to mouth highway system. "He tried something?"

"Hell no,not with me around. S'why I'm here. But he swaggered out of here likehe had your goods and not that little thing hanging between hislegs." Jed stood the sausage on its end then let it fall.

"Youweren't in the bedroom with us. You don't know what he was heaving,"Brian hurried through his sentence so he could get more food in hismouth.

"Couldtell. Besides you deserve better than that attitude."

"Let me getthis straight, we're fighting because you're ticked off at him?" Brianfinished his food and eyed the cooling nutrients still on Jed's plate. Hetentatively tried forking one of Jed's pancakes. Jed hissed, but itdidn't stop Brian from snagging it and swallowing it nearly whole.

"Pig."

"You're theone to blame for making good food." Brian was angling his fork tosteal more when the plate was shoved in his direction.

"Thanks."

"I justthink you deserve better." Jed patted his mouth on a napkin.

"He betterhave paid up."

"We havethe next year's book money no problem." Brian ate quickly enoughthat the food mixed in his mouth into a breakfast slurpy.

"Better beclean money."

"And youcall me the prude. Want me to iron the bills?" Brian used his finger tolick up the last crumbs before pushing his plates back towards Jed.

"Wouldn'thurt you to bruise a finger and put those dishes in the sink youknow." Jed looked askance at the plates.

"See thisis what I mean. We're fighting. You know if I did that you'd yell at mefor putting them in the wrong way. You're setting me up." Brianwinked and stood up. "I need to get dressed."

"Don'texpect me to strip your sheets and make your bed." Jed yelled after Brian'sretreating back.

Guest Author: Hillary Seidl

2011-11-18T21:34:00.001-05:00

ia Wrightstood completely silent in the doorway. The empty coffee cup she had in handsuddenly weighed twenty pounds. Standingoutside the break room she hopped back and kept silent.

“Suchan odd girl. Not very personable at all,” Hailey said, “Not sure why Graysonkeeps her on here.”

“Shedoesn’t even talk, doesn’t even smile. It’s like she is a shadow,” Delinaresponded.

“Oh,she smiles alright,” Hailey, said with a mocking tone, “especially when Gray isin the room.”

Delina’svoice was cutting. “Oh! I’ve seen the way she looks at him! It’s soembarrassing!” Delina giggled.

Itwas all Sia could take.

Thehot flames of embarrassment licked her face as she turned back down the hall tothe bathroom. Sia grabbed the stall door shaking it until it relented andopened. She slammed the stall door and sat on the lid pulling her knees to herchest. Her throat constricted, a sob threatened to burst forth. When had shebecome so apparent? It would seem that she was always doomed when it came tobeing social.

Siastrived for control and twirled her hair around her finger. She felt her pulsestart to quicken and her face was hot to the touch. She took another deepbreath as recommended by her old therapist.

In through the nose out throughthe mouth, imagine your inflating a basketball in your stomach.

Thewords were a welcome mantra she repeated them in her head.

Aftera few minutes, she felt better, more in control. She returned to her work areawith her head down.

WhenGrayson stopped just outside her office, she kept quiet, and her eyes divertedfrom him. She couldn’t afford to lose this job. It was her fourth temp job infive months. She needed the money. She had responsibilities.

Withanother deep breath, she regained her composure. She filed reports, and setletters aside to be mailed. Her stomach growled but she didn’t want to move.

Graysonstood just beyond the threshold of her office. “How are you doing?”

Shepasted a smile on her face. “Everything is fine. You’ll have the Brown reporton your desk by Friday.”

Helingered in the doorway. “That’s great. Thanks, Sia.” Grayson tilted his headthen continued on. Sia looked at the now empty doorframe, her heart fluttering.

Graysonwas handsome with his dark blond hair, a little long in the back. Theattraction was immediate —for her anyway.

Hedidn’t even know she was alive.

Sighingwistfully, she rose and grabbed her empty coffee cup. And to her incredible joythe lunchroom was empty. She poured herself a cup of coffee. She saw somethingout of the corner of her eye. It was the dark shadow figure. Her hands stilledand her heartbeat increased.

Sheclosed her eyes. This was not happening. It was her imagination. Slowly, sheopened her eyes and another shadow darted from right to left.

“No!”she said to the empty room. Forgetting her coffee entirely, she set the cup onthe table and walked quickly. She looked back over her shoulder – and ran rightinto Hailey, sending them both
flying.

Siahit the wall, but Hailey landed on her butt hard. “Ooommpphh!”

Siabent down and offered her a hand. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” As much as Siathought she was a snooty bitch, she was horrified at actually knocking herdown.

Haileystood up, ignoring Sia’s hand. She flipped her vibrant red hair, totally dyed,over her shoulder and starred daggers at Sia. “Ugh! You’re so clumsy!” Shetugged her short skirt back down.

Sia’sback straightened at the angry words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”

Haileysighed. The anger was clear in her eyes. “Yea well, just get out of my way.” Hailey walked by, her shoulderhitting Sia’s as she stormed past.

Siastood there trying to get a hold of her temper. The anger made her shake. Shetried to breathe.

“Whathappened?” Delina’s nasally voice shrieked when Hailey went into her office.Both of them stood while a red faced Hailey pointed at Sia. The more Haileytalked the more she got dirty looks from Delina.

Itwas all that Sia could take.

Sia’shands clenched at her side while the helplessness and anger boiled inside ofher. “I said, I was sorry,” she whispered. Her hair lifted as a great wind cameout of nowhere and she watched as a cloudy line went from her through theoffice.

Siawatched in fascination, and horror, as the wind rose up and blew paperseverywhere in Delina’s office. Books flew of the shelf, the chair was knockedover, and Hailey and Delina screamed as the intense wind continued.

Graysoncame out of his office. “What’s happening out here?” Sia’s concentration broke as Grayson ran pasther. Delina’s office was now calm. No wind just a few papers settling. Delinaand Hailey were standing close to each other, starring at Sia.

“Id-don’t know,” Sia sputtered, still trying to understand what had justhappened. As Grayson rushed into the main room, Sia ran back to her desk andyanked the drawer open, quickly grabbed her purse. With everyone yelling andrunning around, she slipped out of the office quickly and quietly headed for thesafest place she could think of.

Thelibrary.

Finding Ms.Wright: Sia

I watch a lot ofparanormal shows, reality and fiction. Ilove them! My must record DVR programs include Supernatural, Vampire Diaries,Once Upon a Time, Ghost Adventures, My Ghost Story, I Survived Beyond and Backand more. The more evidence I see the more I’m fascinated and I want more. Who wouldn’t want proof of an afterlife? A popular ghost sighting in places are whatpeople call ‘Shadow People’. They arethought to be dangerous spirits that torment. Ever seen something out of the corner your eye? Fast darting shadows? Then it could be shadow people.

Modern day ghosthunters have captured some very intriguing video evidence of these creatures.I’ve also had experiences with them. They are scary as hell. My parentsowned a haunted restaurant in Delta, Colorado. The activity in the place was so high. Sometimes I would set the tables the nightbefore and when I would open with my dad, the placemats and glasses would beaskew. I wouldn’t understand. How could that have happened? Who moved themaround? I am still trying to answer these questions.

The shadow people weren’tin the dining room. The shadow people were in the basement. I remember being completely terrified at thetime. Mostly I tried to ignore it andget out of there as fast as possible. That’show I dealt with it.

This was theinspiration for my part of the anthology, Finding Ms. Wright: Sia. Whispering voices and seeing black shadowsfollowing her is the norm in the beginning of my novella. Poor girl! Enter the hunky hero, Andrew. Hehas the gift of finding supernatural objects. It comes in very handy.

When I writeparanormal, I try to draw from my own experiences and put them down intoentertaining works of fiction. I haveloved romance novels for as long as I can remember and I have loved theparanormal. Mixing the two has been sofun! I loved writing Sia. I hope youenjoy it!

Thank you so much forhaving me here today! Have you hadexperiences with the paranormal? I wouldlove to hear them!

Guest Author: Aubrie Dionne

2011-11-10T18:40:00.000-05:00

Paradise 21: Space Pirates with a Chip onTheir Shoulder

What if the world was ending, and youdidn’t make it onto a colony ship?

The space pirates in Paradise 21 are the humans who have beenleft behind. Deemed “unfit” by genetic tests, or too poor to have anyconnections to make it aboard, they were doomed to scratch out a living in theruin after wars, radiation, and zombies (which you’ll find out about in the prequel:A Hero Rising) decimated old Earth.

One leader emerged, James Wilfred, andhe stole an unfinished colony ship to transport the people left behind on Earthto Alpha Omega, the largest operating space station meant to keep in contactwith the colony ships.

Striker, the hero in Paradise 21, is directly related toJames Wilfred, and all I can say is that he follows in his father’s footsteps.

Read Paradise 21 to see exactly how…

My question to you is:

What would you do if you didn’t makeit onto a colony ship?

Excerpt:

“Gerald, I trust you’re doing wellwith your new bride. How long’s it been? A month?”

“Seems like five years to me.” Hechuckled, but darkness tinged the corners of his eyes. “How can computers bewrong, eh?” He downed his glass of champagne in one desperate gulp. “You haveyour own ceremony coming up soon, right?”

“Yes, I do.” Barliss stifled hisexcitement, straightening his collar so his gold lapel pin caught just theright amount of light, and the New Dawn’s insignia of aseventeenth-century ship cutting through water rested above his right bicep.

“How you ever got paired with such abeauty…” Gerald trailed off as his own designated life partner came up andclutched his arm.

Barliss sized her up. Thick makeupcovered her ruddy complexion, but nothing could cure her limp brown hair andbony nose. No matter how she stuffed the dress, the front would never be filledout in the right places. Not well enough for Barliss’ taste, anyway. Her beadyeyes always had reminded him of the bats in the loading bay.

“Hello, Tilda.”

“Lieutenant Barliss, you look stellartoday.”

Barliss’ eyebrows rose, questioningher appraisal. He made it a point to look stellar every day. He didn’t spendfifteen hours a week weight training for fun and games. “So do you, Tilda, my dear,”he lied, playing the game.

She giggled and squeezed Gerald’s arm.

Gerald winced as if she’d grasped himtoo tightly. Tilda waved to someone in the crowd and placed a wet kiss on herhusband’s cheek, smearing her lipstick before slinking away. Gerald gave her alittle wave and turned back to Barliss. “Like I said, you’re the lucky one.”

Aubrie’s Website:

http://www.authoraubrie.com/my-short-stories

Aubrie’s Blog: http://authoraubrie.blogspot.com/

New Release: Elise Hepner's Roped Emotions

2011-09-16T00:01:00.000-04:00

Blurb:

Rapunzelis trapped by the harsh, inescapable reality of her prison, so she builds vividsexual fantasies where she has full control and no one can take it away. Ifnothing else, at least she has command over her thoughts.

WhenPrince Samuel climbs into her tower it’s a small, satisfying excuse to breakthe rules—until his gentle touch coaxes out her trust. But it’s not enough. Nolonger can she keep her dark, sexual secrets inside. Rapunzel yearns for rough,passionate sex—a way to unlock her sensual freedom for good.

Vulnerablebut unable to turn back, Rapunzel leads Prince Samuel on an intimate journey todefine their sexual limits while twisting their definitions of control forever.

Excerpt:

“What in Christ’s name…”

I must be hearing echoes from thetown nearby, where Mother sells her herbs and braided goods. No one venturesthis far toward my tower because Mother’s gone to great lengths to see thatthey don’t—bear traps are her new favorite method of discouragement. Once onelife is claimed, I imagine word spreads fairly quickly to stay away from thearea. Why then are there hoof beats that make my head pulse with a slight pain?

There’s no understandable excuse Ican delude myself with any longer. Before I can focus on the consequences, Iswing my head out the window into the oppressive, humid summer air. Just thevery top of his head is visible, his hair brushing past his cheekbones, glowingfrom the sunshine and shot through with gold. Never have I seen a color so closeto my own before—not that I see many people.

For a few moments I can’t quite cometo terms with his presence and it’s not for a lack of staring that my pulseinevitably echoes inside my head like an overbeaten drum. This is my chance.Mother won’t be back for quite some time with her wares. He’s circling thetower, slouched over a horse who looks a bit like a nag. Certainly not a properhorse for a man with such fine clothes in gorgeous colors and sumptuousfabrics.

There’s no going back from this moment.It’s a certainty that makes my teeth chatter in a wash of cold fear, despitethe heat, and my hands clasp around my middle as I try to hold myself together.He hasn’t looked up yet, more intent on studying the free-standing structurethan noticing my shadow plastered across the grass. My mind is desperatelyworking out what I’ll cry out to him. Even as my throat closes with an infusionof happiness that makes me rock on my feet.
“Excuse me?” A tentative questionI’m not sure he will hear because it can’t be any louder than a frightenedwhisper. “Sir, you’re really not supposed to be here.”

Somehow, I’ve managed to make thispart louder because he glances up—and his slack-jawed expression is a blow tomy chest. He possesses the most gorgeous cobalt blue eyes. Underneath my ribs,the pain grows until taking a full breath is hard. Mother is right, he hasn’teven overcome his shock as my heavy plait of hair rests down the stone side ofmy prison. He’s not to be trusted.

What am I thinking? He won’t evencome near me to aid my escape and his eyes are swamped in confusion—and there’sa flash of unreadable emotion that I refuse to question. He must leave here nowand I must somehow convince him to bring no one back with him. I won’t beparaded around for anyone’s amusement. This man has made a mistake coming here.

Yet, there’s still a part of me thatgrips the windowsill until my palms are numb and that clings to the hope thathe will at least acknowledge me. So long since I’ve had any kind of normalconversation. One that didn’t revolve around my hair, my rules or my mother’sday. Won’t he say anything? I’m as trapped by his thick silence as I am by thebeauty of his face.

“Please, you must go and tell no oneabout what you’ve seen. You shouldn’t have ignored the traps. They are therefor a reason.”

I don’t know how I’ve gotten thatall out because my main focus lies on the foreign stirrings of heat in mycheeks as the pulsing sensation twists lower in my abdomen. What is happeningto me? With a certainty that surprises me, I find myself clenching my thighstogether, only to have the subtle touch of flesh-on-flesh be more than I canbear. He has yet to take his gaze from mine and a shudder slips up my spine.

“How long have you been here?” Hisvoice carries the strain I hold back and I’m slightly put at ease that at leastwe are on similar ground. “Who did this to you?”

“For a man who is about to leave, Idon’t believe it matters.”

The words barely tumble out of mymouth before I clamp my hand over my lips. I hadn’t meant to be so harsh andinstantly regret it. He is so handsome—and these sudden urges, they areoverwhelming and confusing to the point where I wish to completely remove theproblem. My lips part in an apology and I watch a jovial grin span from ear to earas he laughs at me until I can’t hear anything but the frantic beat of myheart.

Who is this man? Now he stares at mewith a playfulness that washes a wave of goose bumps across my flesh. Hedoesn’t seem offended, merely amused at my suggestion that he leave. To furtherthat fact, he quickly dismounts and ties his horse to a nearby tree branch.While I can only stare at the way his tight riding boots and breeches hug hismuscular body from his calves all the way up to his perfectly rounded buttocks.

Though I’d learned of desire from mymother—and all its wicked principles—I never expected it to rear its head in mylonely, simple world.

However, now my life spirals out ofcontrol quickly enough that I tilt back against the wall to my left and watchwith trembling hands. This mysterious man climbs the wall of my tower as if ithad been built to be climbed so easily—without any aid from my hair. Onestrong, sun-kissed hand and booted foot at a time. When he offers up his handto me to pull him over the side, what choice do I have?

Even a man that strongwould eventually grow tired and plummet to his death—and I want him tuckedclose to my body, not on the ground.

“I was beginning to wonder what ittook to get some assistance.”

He softly grunts and clasps my handhard enough that I gasp as I shift my weight to pull him over the side. MusclesI didn’t know existed inside me burn with sharp pain from disuse because of myisolation. His touch radiates heat all along my arm. If it wasn’t for hisprecarious situation, I would fight to pull away on instinct—but as it is, hemanages to throw himself into my home with as much grace as a charging boar—andhe trips, falling on top of me and sending us to the hard, stone floor.

His surprisingly soft hand brushesthe hair out of my face and lingers, gently stroking, down my cheek. Should Ibe frightened? Probably. At the moment I can’t bear the thought that my firstsincerely gentle touch from a man would be anything but special. His sharpleather scent surrounds my tingling skin.

“Isn’t this a day for surprises?”His gaze cuts through all the fear inside me and his mouth holds the subtlecurve of a half smile. “I should move myself off you, this isn’t proper at all when we’vebarely been introduced.”

Yet he doesn’t move an inch.

A realization whips through my mindand would have left me on the floor if I wasn’t already pinned there by agorgeous man who touches me with such reverence I might weep. When will thishappen again? After this twisted, meandering path of fate, there is no doubt Iwill be alone again—and I want a loving memory to cling to at night when my oldfears tighten my chest until I can’t breathe. This is a choice I can make formyself. And I won’t live the rest of my ordinary, sheltered life not knowingtrue passion when it burns across my skin.

“They call me Rapunzel.”

“Samuel.”

His inviting smile lights up mywhole world.

Buy Links:
http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9567-roped-emotions.aspx

Author Links:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Elise-Hepner-Writing/311925106401
www.twitter.com/EHepner
www.ehwriting.com

Guest Author: Rachel Brimble

2011-09-15T21:00:00.000-04:00

BLURB:

Nightclubmanager, Grace Butler is on a mission to buy the pub where her mother’s ashesare scattered – except the vendor wants to sell to anyone but her. And the vendorhappens to be her father…with a secret Grace will do anything to uncover.

Social worker and all-round goodguy, Jimmy Betts needs cash to buy a house for three special kids before theircare home closes. In a desperate bid for cash, he agrees to a one-time ‘job’for bad-man Karl Butler. But in a sudden turn of events, Jimmy finds himself employedby Karl’s beautiful, funny and incredibly sexy daughter, Grace.

Their lives are so differentexcept for one unifying thread – they are both trying to escape the binds oftheir tyrannical fathers. But is the key to their liberty each other?

EXCERPT:

She sat bolt upright. “Where are you going?”

“To the soup kitchen. Four of my kids have been helping outdown there today, so if you don’t need me ‘til seven--”

“Can I come?”

“What?”

“What?” Gerald echoed.

Jimmy stared at her. Was she serious? But knew he wouldn’trefuse her when her eyes were wide with that damn innocent doe-eyed look againand her cheeks flushed pink. He swallowed, clenched his hands into fists insidehis pockets.

“You want to cometo the soup kitchen?” he asked, hoping against hope he’d gotten the wrong endof the proverbial stick.

She winked, and it had as much the same effect as if she’dwrapped her hand around his penis. “Why not?”

He opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it, took a breath, butstill nothing came out. Her smile widened. “Cat got your tongue, Jimmy Boy?”

Just a few short days ago at her mother’s pub, he’d wantedto ravish her, possess her, let her know what she did to him. And now the samedesire coursed through his veins again. She never stopped surprising him and itjust added more fuel to the already burning fire.

“And why would you want to do that?” he asked.

“Beats going into the club early,” she said, brushing pasthim.

She wandered across the room. Her slender body sashayingaround the furniture and then her piece de resistance was to snake all fivefeet nine inches of it across the oblong dining table to grab her bag--thesight of her perfect ass and even better legs sent Jimmy’s senses skyrocketing.His nostrils flared. Grace by name, Graceby nature. She was beautiful, sexy, funny, and he didn’t doubt for oneminute she knew exactly what the sight of her did to him.

She turned around and hitched the bag onto her shoulder. “Mylife is sad. I’ve got nothing else planned for the afternoon. Come on, Jimmy,help me show my father I have a life away from him. Even if it is a completelie, for now.”

He threw his hands in the air. “Fine.”

BUY LINK: http://www.lyricalpress.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=81&products_id=424

ABOUT RACHEL:

Rachel lives with her husband and two young daughters in a small townnear Bath in the UK. Having alwaysbelieved there’s someone for everyone, Rachel started writing her own tales oflove once her children were at school. Since then, she’s had several books published with The Wild Rose Press,Eternal Press and Lyrical Press. She hasrecently acquired a US agent with her second Victorian historical. A member ofthe Romantic Novelists Association and Romance Writers of America, Rachelcannot imagine her life without romance or writing!

When she isn’t writing, you’ll find Rachel with her head in a book orwalking the beautiful English countryside with her family. And in the evening? Well, a well-deserved glass of wine is never,ever refused…

www.rachelbrimble.com
www.rachelbrimble.blogspot.com
www.twitter.com/rachelbrimble

Guest Author: Bernadette Marie

2011-09-12T18:27:00.000-04:00

BIO:

Bernadette Marie has been an avid writer since the early age of 13, when she’d fill notebook after notebook with stories that she’d share with her friends. Her journey into novel writing started the summer before eighth grade when her father gave her an old typewriter. At all times of the day and night you would find her on the back porch penning her first work, which she would continue to write for the next 22 years.

In 2007 – after marriage, filling her chronic entrepreneurial needs, and having five children – Bernadette began to write seriously with the goal of being published. That year she wrote 12 books. In 2009 she was contracted for her first trilogy and the published author was born. In 2011 she (being the entrepreneur that she is) opened her own publishing house, 5 Prince Publishing, and has released contemporary titles and will begin the process, eventually, of taking on other authors in other genres. Also in 2011 she became co-owner of Seven Songs Press and will release a novella as part of an anthology with other very talented authors in November 2011.

Bernadette spends most of her free time driving her kids to their many events. She is also an accomplished martial artist, working her way to her second degree black belt in Tang Soo Do. An avid reader, she enjoys most, the works of Nora Roberts and Karen White. She loves to meet readers who enjoy reading contemporary romances and she always promises Happily Ever After.

LINKS:

WEBSITE: www.bernadettemarie.com
BLOG: www.authorbernadettemarie.com
EMAIL: info@bernadettemarie.com
FACEBOOK: www.facebook.com/authorbernadettemarie
TWITTER: @writesromance

BLURB FOR THE EXECUTIVE’S DECISION:

Regan Keller fell in love with a wealthy and powerful man once. He was her boss. When that turbulent relationship ended, she swore she’d never again date someone she worked with. That was before she literally fell into her new boss’s lap.

Zachary Benson is the head of a successful empire and used to getting what he wants in the boardroom and outside of it – and what he wants is Regan Keller. He’s determined to convince Regan that even though he’s her boss, they can share a life together.

However, when Regan’s past threatens to destroy the architectural firm Zach has invested his entire career in, he has to make an executive decision whether to choose his business or fight for the woman he loves.

EXCERPT FROM THE EXECUTIVE’S DECISION
Chapter One

Thunder rippled through the gray clouds that loomed overhead. Regan Keller raised her eyes to the sky. Please, please don’t rain. As she sent up the silent prayer, she felt the first drop hit her forehead.

The nervous flutter in her stomach quickened as she looked down at her watch. Surely her day couldn’t get any worse. But the sky opened up, and those around her crowded together in the bus stop shelter. Her hair, tied in a tail at the base of her neck, dripped rain down her back as she hunched in her coat. How could she have forgotten her umbrella? Had her car been running, she’d have the one tucked safely away in the glove compartment because spring in Tennessee often meant sudden storms. She should carry one in her bag but had suffered a lapse in memory, having opted for the sunny beaches of Hawaii for the past two years.

As the bus arrived, those under the shelter huddled onto it ahead of her, claiming every seat. Soaking wet, Regan wedged herself between two people and held onto the handrail above her head. She looked out the window at the commuters driving themselves to work in the pouring rain. That should have been her.

A bitter-faced old woman sat below her, her oversized bag occupying the next seat. Regan bent to ask her to move it, but the woman glared up at her and gave a grunt that sounded like a dog’s bark. Regan flinched and tried to look away. But she was compelled to keep an eye on the woman.

The man to the other side of the vacant seat snickered. Regan looked down at him in his long black overcoat and perfect hair. Hemmed in between the old lady’s bag and an overweight man in a jogging suit, he was as pinned in his seat as she was to the people around her. She would have given him a piece of her mind for laughing at her had the bus not jolted to a sudden stop. It lurched forward then back and tossed Regan onto the man’s lap.

“I would have offered you my seat,” he said with a bright grin as the bus lurched again.

“Why, you…” She struggled to free herself, but the crowd moved in tightly around them as the bus bounced down the street. The pace of her heart kicked into gear and she could feel the sweat bead on her brow.

She hadn’t been this close to a man in over a year, and the panic of having him actually hold her on his lap was making her more than uncomfortable. “I need to stand up.”

“You might as well sit.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Doesn’t look like you’ll be standing again anytime soon.”

Regan took a few deep and cleansing breaths. She forced down the panic that was filling her body and tried to push it away. Alexander Hamilton thought she was dead. There should be no danger in sitting on the lap of a nice-looking man. She should find it within her to enjoy the experience and focus on something else.

He didn’t have an accent native to Tennessee like hers. Perhaps the rain had caught him off guard as well. If she didn’t relax, she’d have a heart attack, and this nice gentleman who wasn’t from Nashville would probably be blamed for her death on the bus on his way to work.

Accepting her predicament at face value would be a prime opportunity to let go of bitter feelings for the opposite gender, though after what she’d been through, she wasn’t sure she could. The thought of ever loving another man or letting one touch her made her palms sweat and her stomach clench.

The man smiled at her, and a dimple formed in his cheek. “This is your first time on this bus, isn’t it?” He pushed back a wet wisp of hair from her forehead, and she flinched away. “It’s always crowded, but I know I would have seen you.”

“My car wouldn’t start this morning.” She pressed her hand to her jittery stomach and willed it to settle. “I start a new job today. Car trouble couldn’t have come at a worse time.”

“New job? Congratulations. So what is this new job?”

God, he was handsome, and wouldn’t it be nice to enjoy the ride? But she wasn’t. “Executive assistant.” The words shook as she spoke.

“Pretty important.”

“You think it’s just some glorified secretary, don’t you?” She clenched her teeth and her fists. Why wouldn’t she be angry? The last man she’d worked for had interpreted the title executive assistant as a license to run her life and to ruin it.

“No. I was serious. It’s a very important position.” He looked sincere. “So where is this new job?”

“Benson, Benson and Hart.”

“Real estate development.”

“Yes.” Her breath was becoming harder to push through her lungs. “I should get off your lap.”

“You’d ruin my day.” He laughed easily, so she tried to relax. “So whose executive assistant will you be?”

“Zachary Benson’s.” She looked around for a space to stand.

“CEO? He must have been very impressed with you.”

“I’ve never met him. His current assistant is having a baby and leaving the company. He was out of town when she interviewed me.” She thought about Mary Ellen, his current assistant. The interview had had a motherly quality to it. She wasn’t sure whether it was because Mary Ellen was pregnant or that worried for her boss. “I think she takes good care of him. It’ll be a hard pair of shoes to fill.” And if that hadn’t had her stomach tied in knots, here she was having a conversation about it with a man she didn’t know while sitting on his lap. Had she completely forgotten the last man she’d gotten this close to tried to kill her?

“I’m sure he’ll be pleased with her choice.”

“Thank you.” She wanted to wiggle away from the hard muscles she could feel in his chest, from his arms that held her tight against him, and from the legs of a man who obviously kept in shape. She couldn’t, so she kept talking. “I hope he likes me. I can’t imagine him not wanting to meet me first.”

“Maybe he’s ugly.”

Finally a laugh rolled from her throat. “That’s not what Mary Ellen said.” She tucked in her lips. “She says he’s a hottie.”

“Hottie?” His voice lit with humor. “Well, you’ll enjoy your job then.”

“Strictly business here. I don’t get involved with the boss,” she said sternly. Not anymore. This was, after all, her chance to take back her life after making such a mistake.

The bus stopped, and the old woman stood and grabbed her bag.

“Move!” She shoved her way through the people who climbed on and made her way out the door. Before Regan could stand and claim a seat, the crowd around her pushed her closer against the stranger, whose arms wrapped tightly around her as others dropped down beside them.

“Your stop is the next one,” he offered, and she nodded. “So what’s your name?”

“Regan.”

“You’re native to Tennessee, aren’t you? Your accent gives you away.”

“I was born in Memphis. I spent most of my life in Nashville though. I did a stint in Los Angeles and then lived in Maui for the last two years. I missed home though.” The more she tried to suppress her nerves, the more she talked.

“Los Angeles? Tried your hand at Hollywood?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I worked for a prominent lawyer who had some big-name clients. But I wasn’t seeking fame and fortune.”
“Well, Ms. Executive Assistant, I’m glad you came home or this would have been a very boring ride this morning.” The bus stopped, and most of the people began to move to the door. “This is your stop.”

She finally stood and turned to exit with the crowd without looking back.

The man caught her hand and held it. Her very core shook, and her first instinct was to rip her hand away. But she needed to move on and not be so damn afraid of every man that gave her attention.

“Would you have lunch with me?” he asked.

“What?” She looked back at people climbing on. If she didn’t exit the bus now, she’d miss her stop. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

“Meet me at the hot dog stand at noon just on the north corner of your building,” he said with a wink and a nod.

She couldn’t think to speak. She nodded as she hurried off the bus.

The rain had subsided for the time being. Regan had almost dried off as she sat on the handsome man’s lap. The smell of his cologne lingered on her coat. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him.

She stopped as she neared the door and turned to see the bus drive away. He was watching her from the window, and he waved. It occurred to her she didn’t even know his name.

She looked down at her hands. They were shaking.

Get over it. Move on. Not everyone wanted to hurt her. Not every man was evil with ulterior motives. No, some were just nice men who wanted to take you to lunch.

Well, it wasn’t like he’d asked her to stay at a hotel. He’d offered to buy her a hot dog. Really, it was harmless. And he’d assume she was too busy with her new job if she just didn’t show up.

But she wanted to.

Well, there was no better time to move on with her life, and no better way to get to know the man on whose lap you’d ridden to work than over a hot dog.

A tingle of hope shot through her. She needed to start taking back her life the way she wanted it. No more mistakes. No more regrets. It was her life now, and she was going to enjoy it.

New Release by Elaine Lowe: Magic Eights

2011-07-16T16:14:00.003-04:00

Blurb:

A casual wish by a frustratingly horny wife results in a most unexpected bit of magic…

Susanna walks into her kitchen to see two copies of her husband of eight years, William. When they both seduce her, she’s helpless to resist. Who would want to? When another copy walks in and makes love to her, and another, she ceases to ask why, only, how much can she take?

Seven copies, one original, and all of them want to push her to the very brink. Can she handle them all? Sinful satisfaction is the best anniversary present, and eight is Susanna’s lucky number.

Excerpt:

She climbed out of the tub and the rush of air over her skin was lovely and cooling making her tingle with need. She grit her teeth, determined to ignore it. Maybe a dull technical journal?

After a towel dry with the super plush terrycloth she indulged in, her hair was efficiently wrapped up in a towel. Then she donned the terribly ugly but comfy maroon silk robe that her mother had gotten her for Christmas last year. Why her mother got her freckled, red-haired daughter things in such colors, Susanna never understood. Still, it was short enough that Will liked to admire her legs and the August heat was such that she would really rather have worn nothing at all. One of the benefits of taking a searing hot bath in August, was that it fooled her body into thinking that the air was cool, at least for a little while. Then she’d simply retreat into the air conditioning of the bedroom and curl up with a book or a technical manual and try not to stare beseechingly at Will to come and fuck her some more.

She sighed softly and opened the door, determined to find out the source of all the commotion outside.

The hot, humid air of the bathroom gave way to the hot, stuffy air of the hallway. It wasn’t supposed to get this hot in San Francisco! It was supposed to be foggy and overcast and sweater weather in the middle of “summer”. It was not supposed to be hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk. She cursed the weather gods and the condo complex’s rules that only allowed them to put an air conditioner in the bedroom. She would have followed Will into the bedroom and tried not to think about jumping his bones, but he must be in the kitchen judging from all the noise. Given how much he hated the heat, that seemed very unusual.

Sure enough, Will was right there, in the kitchen, in the midst of cooking one of his incredibly intricate meals. Practically naked—except for his apron. And, Will was right there, in the kitchen, standing at the sink and scrubbing away at a mountain of pans. Again, almost bare, except for an apron and apparently boxer-briefs that cupped his great ass with TLC.

Soapy water dripped onto the kitchen floor from the overloaded sink and the scent of sautéed garlic wafted up into the air as she stared at the men in her kitchen. Two men. Both completely familiar. Her husband and what appeared to be his twin. Unless Will and his family had been hiding something from her for years.

“I’m dreaming. I fell asleep in the tub and I’m about to drown any second.”

Will…Wills…oh hell, both of them looked up at her with a smile. One said, “Hi, sweetheart!”

And the other, “Are you parboiled enough yet?”

Susanna was pretty sure that if she had been the fainting type, she would have collapsed. As it was she pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and slumped into it, not noticing that her robe gaped open invitingly.

She swallowed and decided to act nonchalant. “Hi…honey. What are you doing out here? I thought you were going to work in the bedroom?”

Chef Will waggled his eyebrows at her as he expertly flipped a pan of mushrooms that were searing to a golden brown. “I know you like my work in the bedroom, but I thought I’d cook you up a nice dinner. I know you hate to cook on a weekday.”

“But it’s Saturday…”

Her words seemed to slide right off of him and he went right back to stirring his pans. Dishwasher Will turned and grinned, “And I wanted to get the dishes done. You know I hate to leave the kitchen a mess if I’m going on a journey.”

She could practically hear the rim shot for the punch line coming, and set him up for the follow-through, though she was almost dreading to hear the conclusion of this setup, “And where are you going then? Crazy?”

"Oh sweetheart, I’m heading down a long, dark, warm tunnel to heaven, and I plan on taking you along for the ride…”

She blushed hotly, “Oh, that was bad. Really bad.”

“I think in the realm of pickup lines, I would be court jester.” He turned back to the dishes, his gorgeous ass barely covered by a pair of black briefs.

“I’ve always preferred the jester to the king. He can make you laugh and has time to give a girl a really good time. Much less stress.”

“See, I knew there was a reason I adored you.” He winked at her and got back to scrubbing a pot that Chef Will must have just finished with. They were a perfect team, sliding past each other in the tiny kitchen with synchronicity to be envied, but they never seemed to acknowledge each other’s existence. Her brain was simultaneously thinking a thousand things, “What the hell is going on?” or some version thereof took up most of that thousand, but somewhere in there was, “Damn, my husband has a nice ass,” “Wonder what he’s cooking for dinner, it smells good,” and quite prominently, “Two! The things I could do with two of him!”

BUY LINK: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9413-magic-eights.aspx

Elaine Lowe - Love is the Ultimate Magic - www.elainelowenovels.com
Scandalous Profession - Match Made by Moonlight
Passion Magic series - Lithian Lusts
Lady Six Sky - Tears of Talent
Nancy's Sweet Spelling Bee - Don't Wait

New Release by Maryn Sinclair: The Escort

2011-07-03T10:30:00.000-04:00

Please welcome fellow Loose Id author, Maryn Sinclair who has a new release out on July 5th!

Blurb:

An unfortunate fluke of timing puts Lieutenant Colonel Daniel Harte in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it costs him his career. Caught in an Iraqi ambush while on a rescue operation, he’s hit by shrapnel that damages the optic cortex of his brain. With family wealth, nothing is beyond his grasp, including the women he pays to share his nights. That suits him just fine, until he hires Annie Claire Townsend to accompany him on a mission to help the two damaged soldiers he saved in the same attack that took his sight.

Taking a job as an escort is nothing Annie ever considered until medical bills from her daughter’s illness buried her in debt. How could she refuse the ten thousand dollar fee? She has no idea her client is blind until she meets him, and his focus is off. Way off. Nothing about Daniel Harte elicits pity. He’s roguishly handsome, assertive, and the sexiest man she’s ever met. But Annie has secrets she can't confide to anyone, especially not to the man she's falling in love with.

Excerpt:

Chapter One
The Deal

Being an escort usually implied bestowing sexual favors, but Annie had made herself clear to the agency: no sex. Her heart raced. She drew another bracing breath of salt air to calm her nerves and stared at the sleek, postmodern house overlooking the Atlantic.

You have to do this, Annie. You need the money, and the client is paying a bundle.

She left her suitcase in the car in case she got a bad feeling. One lecherous glare and she was out of there, desperate for the fee or not. Car keys in hand, she followed the paved walkway to the front door. She stopped. Could she actually go through with this?

The door to the house opened. “You must be Annie,” a middle-aged woman said.

Now or never. Annie nodded. “Annie Claire Townsend.”

The woman beckoned her forward. “Annie or Annie Claire?”

“Either. I answer to both.” I’m in. For now.

“I’m Grogan.” She took Annie’s hand. “No misses, no first name. Just Grogan. That’s what everyone calls me.” She gave Annie the once-over. “My, my, you’re a pretty one. Even better in person than the picture the escort company e-mailed me. The colonel’s expecting you.”

Grogan was a big woman. Not fat, just tall and big, with masculine hands the size of catcher’s mitts and shoes so large Annie guessed they’d been special ordered. She was no-nonsense-looking plain, but a pleasant demeanor and a twinkle in her eye softened Annie’s anxiety. She still wouldn’t relax completely until she met the man with whom she’d spend three days.

She followed Grogan into a large room that jutted out over rocky cliffs, enclosed on two sides by glass that showcased a breathtaking panorama of ocean, ocean, and more ocean. A stone fireplace covered one wall. One of the most handsome men Annie had ever laid eyes on sat in a soft-cushioned leather chair. Except for the noticeable scarring on his right temple and a smattering of marks on his neck, he couldn’t have been more perfect. A black Lab sat at his feet. The man rose.

“Well, Grogan, what does she look like?”

Annie frowned at Grogan, who smiled back. “She’s perfect, Colonel. As pretty a woman as you’d’ve chosen yourself.” Grogan led Annie to the man. “Annie Claire Townsend, Lieutenant Colonel Daniel Harte.”

“Welcome, Annie. I know this was a last-minute contract, so I thank you for accepting my offer.”

The colonel put out his hand in Annie’s direction, but his sight line skewed to the right. Far to the right. Oh my God, he can’t see me. Colonel Harte is blind. Annie’s stomach turned over. A mixture of confusion, sympathy, and doubt hit her hard. She’d signed on to spend three days with a blind man. Why hadn’t the woman at the agency told her so she’d be prepared? What else hadn’t she been told? A million thoughts ran through her mind. Exactly what did he expect of her? Was she in over her head?

She studied the tall, elegant man before her, his hand outstretched. You need this job, Annie. You can do this. She took his hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“Call me Daniel. No sirs or colonels for the next three days. Have you retrieved her bag, Grogan?”

“Right now.” She put out her hand to Annie. “Keys, please.”

“It’s open. I didn’t think my suitcase was at risk in this neighborhood.”

“I’ll fill you in when Grogan gets back,” the colonel said. “Meanwhile, what would you like to drink? There’s coffee ready on the sideboard, or Grogan can make you tea. If neither suits, there’s a variety of soft drinks and juices. Name it.”

“Coffee will be fine. Thank you, Colonel.”

“Remember, no colonel. Call me Daniel. How do you take it?”

“Cream and sugar, but I can make it.”

He ignored her offer and went straight to the sideboard and a row of cups. He found the coffeepot handle and poured, keeping his index finger inside the rim to make sure the liquid didn’t overflow. “I’ll let you add the cream and sugar. I’m not great with cream. They’re on the tray.” He poured another cup for himself, black.

Aside from his obvious lack of eye contact, she’d never have known he couldn’t see. He poured the coffee as confidently as any sighted person. He appeared to listen while she spooned sugar into her cup, added cream, and stirred.

“To our weekend,” he said, lifting his cup.

She didn’t think it possible, but he was even more handsome when he smiled. Dark blue eyes, brown hair threaded with gray, worn long for ex-military -- she’d always known military men to keep their hair short after service as a symbol of their former affiliation. He wore a conservative navy suit with a US Army retired lapel pin, white shirt, and dark pink tie. The outfit suited him. The ragged scar on his temple showed more clearly now, along with the pocking on his neck. She wondered what had happened. Maybe she’d find out as the weekend progressed.

Grogan came into the room. “I left her luggage in the entry, Colonel. Chuck will load it when you’re ready.”

“Perfect. Have a cup of coffee and sit down. You too, Annie Claire.” He walked back to his chair, put the cup on the side table, and sat, offering an affectionate neck rub to the dog, which gazed adoringly at his master. Annie perched on one end of the sofa. Grogan poured her coffee and sat at the other end.

“How much did Grace at the escort service tell you?” he asked.

Other than leaving out a major detail? “Three first-class days in Santa Barbara for a reunion with some army buddies, the payment, of course, and no sex required.”

Daniel laughed. “Succinct and to the point. No. No sex required. Of course, I’m open to sex if both parties consent, but I’d never force a woman to engage in a sexual liaison. I’ve never had to.”

What did that mean? Did women jump into his bed willingly? That’s what it sounded like. With his perfect features, she could understand why, but sex wasn’t part of the deal. Should I say something to make sure he understands that? No, she’d already said as much. Best not to rub his nose in it. Calm. Down. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Then it’s settled. Okay, here’s the situation. We’re going to meet two men who were injured in Iraq at the same time I was. They’re bringing their wives. I don’t have a wife, so I needed a companion. The friend who agreed to accompany me came down with the flu, and my other acquaintances aren’t…suitable.”

So he was blinded in Iraq. She lost her concentration and missed what he said. Now he’d stopped talking, as if he thought of something important.

“I don’t recall if we found out your age. Did we, Grogan?”

“Thirty-two,” Grogan responded in unison with Annie.

“Hmm, older than I would have thought. By that age, beautiful women in the escort business have usually landed a husband and live in the suburbs.”

A sick feeling churned in Annie’s stomach. Did he think she was a professional escort?

Think, Annie. Did you really expect the woman at the agency to tell the client you were a first-time escort and that sex wasn’t included in the contract? No, of course she wouldn’t. Not with that kind of fee involved. Had Annie misunderstood? Had Colonel Harte?

“I think you may have misunderstood, or maybe I have. I mean, yes, I took this job, but I’m not in the escort business. Not the way you mean it. In fact, this is the first time I’ve done this.”

The colonel cleared his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I understood this weekend position was for companionship only. If I misinterpreted the requirements, please tell me now.”

He sat very still and after a long moment sipped his coffee. Annie figured Colonel Harte wasn’t used to anyone calling him out. Not a lieutenant colonel in the army. When he didn’t respond, she considered making a beeline for the door.

“You did not misunderstand, Annie Claire. I apologize if I said anything to make you think otherwise.”

Stay or go? What should I do? He obviously needs someone to go with him. How could he go alone? The man can’t see. A brief thought of what that must be like flashed through Annie’s mind, causing a wave of panic. “I assume I’m not the first escort you’ve hired.”

“Truth is, my associations over the last few years have been escorts. Beautiful ones, I understand, though I’m not really sure. I take Grogan’s word for it. And no, she’s not my pimp. But she does arrange the trysts.”

“Maybe I am a pimp, Colonel,” Grogan said, “and we’ve been calling it something else.” She turned her attention to Annie. “I choose the ladies at the service, insist on clean medical records, and make sure they aren’t woofs. Even though the colonel is blind and doesn’t look at all like Richard Gere, he likes to know he’s with a pretty woman.”

Daniel broke into laughter. “Now what will Annie Claire think of me, Grogan. Actually, Annie -- May I call you Annie?”

Annie nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see that. “Annie’s fine.”

“Actually, I’ve always liked pretty women, but I don’t want any permanent attachments. As you can imagine, it’s difficult for me to meet ladies these days. I don’t drive and rarely go places alone, which is why Grogan arranges those evenings here when I feel like company. If the lady is inclined, there’s sex. If not, there isn’t.” He sipped his coffee, then smiled when he said in a suggestive tone, “As I mentioned, I’d never force anyone.”

Annie’s knees went weak, and her voice croaked a hoarse whisper. “You said you never had to.”

“That is correct.”

He cast his eyes straight at her, and her insides flipped. His blindness didn’t detract from the fact that Daniel Harte exuded sex appeal from every pore. No wonder he never had to force women to have sex. They probably walked in the door of his gorgeous house, took one look at him, and flopped on their backs with their legs open.

“This weekend I need the company of a beautiful woman, which I understand you are. I’m paying a lot of money for your time, and no one twisted your arm to take the job. If you find this arrangement offensive, please tell me now. I can’t accomplish what I have in mind with someone who feels she’s being coerced. It would be very difficult for me to go to this reunion alone. I need someone to help me navigate the area, and” -- he pressed a button on his watch, and an electronic voice said, “Eight thirty a.m.” -- “I haven’t time to arrange someone else. But I’m worried about our interaction. When I explain my mission, you’ll understand.”

Annie’s heart tugged. How hard it must be for a man like him to admit he needed help. To be a leader one day and to be led the next.

She’d needed help during bad times too. Thoughts of the medical bills clarified that she still needed help, which was why she had gone to the escort service in the first place. He waited for her response. “Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I accepted this job, and I’ll do what you hired me for -- be your helpful companion.”

“Good. Glad we got all that messy business out of the way. Now, I hope we can put this little contretemps behind us. I want us both to have a good time.”

He leaned forward in her direction with a smile that brought heat to her cheeks.

“It’s important we at least appear like we’re enjoying each other’s company.” He got up. “I’m going to get my things. I’ll explain the rest on the plane trip. Grogan will answer any other questions you may have about me.”

With his dog by his side, he walked from the room with a purposeful stride, leaving Annie in a state of curious expectation.

BUY LINK: http://www.loose-id.com/The-Escort.aspx

Guest Author Sofia Hunt with a New Release!

2011-06-18T21:45:00.000-04:00

Please welcome my guest author, Sofia Hunt!

Last summer I started toying with an idea for a ménage series based on a bit of Seattle history. First of all, to date I’ve been exclusively a contemporary author with 3 books published with Siren and 4 m/f books published under another pen name. I’d never tackled a historical, though I loved to read them, especially set in regency England.

The basic plot revolved around a group of 23 women who answered an ad in a Boston newspaper for brides wanted in 1860s Washington Territory. Washington didn’t become a state until 1889, so this was back when the area was first settled. My fictional town of Port Steele would be set on a beautiful bay on the east side of Puget Sound, literally across the water from Seattle. I pictured Bachelor Bay to be in the area of what is now Bremerton/Port Orchard/Silverdale. Since this series takes place during the Civil War era, men were scarce back east. The women who answered my hero’s ad were willing to leave civilization behind and journey to an unknown land in the hope of finding a new life and a new love. The Gallagher brothers, who owned a logging company and sawmill, placed the ad in order to pacify their lumberjacks who were threatening to leave because of the lack of women in the area.

Figuring there was safety in numbers, I talked to my good friends, Bella Grace and Eve Adams, to see if they’d be interested in joining me. The more we talked about the idea, the more excited we became. The three of us collaborated on characters, plots, conflicts, and threads that’d run through all the stories. I poured over old UW archives on historical logging and pioneer life in the Pacific Northwest.

Since Eve and I are currently published with Siren, we approached Siren/Bookstrand publisher’s with our idea. She loved it. I mean really loved it. Our publisher accepted the series into the Ménage Everlasting line, and Les Byerley did our gorgeous covers.

And The Brides of Bachelor Bay was born.

What started out as a three-book series blossomed into a six-book series. Depending on the sales, we might try for a nine-book series. The first three in the series has been released. We’re working on the next three books now.

I’m extremely excited about this series. Each book will average about 35,000 words and will feature one of the brides as the heroine. The heroes have various professions, such as lumbermen, lumberjacks, the town mayor, a Sioux Indian, a mercantile owner, and others. Of course, we have several villains, some who redeem themselves and some who don’t.

All in all, this series has been immensely satisfying to write. I hope you’ll pick up a copy and escape to Bachelor Bay for an evening or two.

BLURB

Determined to protect her sisters from a murderous uncle, Lizzie Prescott answers a brides wanted ad. She and her sisters journey to 1860s Washington Territory, a wild land of towering cedar trees and brawny lumberjacks.

Logan Gallagher brought the brides out west for his crew, not for himself, but he can’t get the red-haired beauty out of his mind. His brother, Gage, harbors his own desires for the opinionated redhead.

Can all three of them find love together in this untamed land?

CHAPTER 1

Port Steele, Washington Territory

We arrived in Bachelor Bay this afternoon. The relentless rain had obscured the shoreline ever since our ship entered the Strait of Juan de Fuca. But when we entered the bay, the sun peeked through the clouds, and the profound splendor of this place had us hugging the railing in awe.

Our ship docked at Port Steele, the small town perched on the edge of Bachelor Bay. We were greeted by a large contingent of townspeople. An overwhelming majority of them are men. And, oh, what men they are. I blush as I write this, but I have never seen such impressive men. Evidently, this land grows them as big and strong as the towering fir and cedar trees that dominate the landscape.

Despite the unfortunate circumstances that brought my sisters and me to this untamed land, I am looking forward to the challenge offered by this place of rugged beauty.

* * * *

For the first time in her life, Elizabeth Mary Prescott was sorely tempted to abandon her vow to remain single. But entertaining such foolish notions as marrying again didn’t negate the truth of her situation. She’d signed on to this journey under false pretenses. No man would want her if he knew the truth. Nor would she trap an unsuspecting suitor into a marriage built on lies. Yet, there were other ways, though scandalous, to be with a man, ways which didn’t involve marriage.

Lizzie had never been the scandalous type. As the oldest of three children, all girls, she’d been the responsible, dependable daughter, despite her penchant for disregarding propriety at times. This land appealed to her sense of adventure and her disdain for the restrictions men placed on women. In an uncivilized land like this, a woman should be able to live by her own rules. Or so she hoped.

Lizzie hung back while the remaining female passengers, twenty-three young women, leaned over the ship’s railing. They gawked at the sea of men crowding the dock below. Potential husbands, every one of them, and plenty to pick from. These big, raw-boned men were dressed in their Sunday best. Their hair slicked back, their jaws freshly shaved. Big men for a big country. Hopefully, big hearts, too.

She shuddered as her wayward mind imagined the inappropriate and unacceptable things such men could do to a woman. It was not for her to find out. This trip was not about her. She would remain strong for her sisters and see that they secured marriages to suitable men of high moral standing and reputation, men with secure finances.

Once she completed her task, she’d fade into obscurity as a teacher in a rural school.

The sun peeked through the clouds, certainly a good omen. She could use some good luck.

The Civil War had decimated the male population back East. The few available men in her hometown paid her no mind. She stood too tall, lacked the fine-boned features men favored, and was a mite sharp-tongued and opinionated. Only one man had showed interest, but that nightmare was over.

Besides, she craved adventure. Yet, travelling from the East Coast to Puget Sound in Washington Territory proved to be more adventure than she’d bargained for, with the storms and whatnot.

But they’d made it. Every one of them. She glanced at each of her two sisters standing in front of her on the railing. Olivia, the shy middle sister who’d rather be reading a book, shrank back at the sight of all that masculinity and gazed up at Lizzie, obviously overwhelmed.

“I just want to sleep on a bed that doesn’t pitch and roll all night long.” Olivia pushed her glasses up with the tip of her finger and squinted at the crowd.

“As do I.” Lizzie patted her sister’s arm.

“I’ll never set foot on a boat again.”

“It doesn’t hold much interest to me, either. But we’re here, and look at the reception we’re getting.”

“It is disconcerting.”

Lizzie couldn’t agree more, but for once, held her tongue.

“It’s impressive. All these men. I could swoon.” Amelia, the youngest and prettiest sister, assessed the crowd. Her sharp eyes missed nothing. “I see several possibilities.”

“With your fair appearance, you’ll have your pick.” Lizzie smoothed her wrinkled dress and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, aware of what a fright she must appear. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t here to marry, only to find mates for her sisters, good, kind husbands.

“Yes, you will. They won’t even notice us.” Olivia let out a deep breath.

Amelia smiled and squeezed Olivia’s hand. “You, Olivia, will also have no shortage of suitors.”

Olivia turned to Lizzie. “And you, too.”

“I’m twenty-five, way past marrying age.” Her age was the least of her problems.

“I suspect if you’re a female and still breathing, you’re marrying age around here,” Amelia quipped and waved her handkerchief at one particularly enthusiastic man who’d climbed a tall pole to see over the crowd.

“She’s right, you know.” Olivia peered at the men over the rims of her reading glasses.

“I have no desire to be subservient to any man.” She didn’t add why. They all knew why.

“Yet you would wish that fate on us?”

“The both of you wouldn’t consider it fate, but a pleasant task.”

“Very pleasant.” Amelia leaned further over the railing. Her cleavage caught the men’s attention as she waved at the group with her lace handkerchief. Lizzie prayed she’d marry Amelia off before she soiled her reputation as a lady. Her bold approach to men and her inherent recklessness worried both older sisters. Amelia barely avoided scandal back in Boston.

Lizzie looked into the crowd. One man stood back from the group, leaning negligently against a tree. With a big, muscled body, dark wavy hair, and a ruggedly handsome face, he’d attract attention wherever he went. He oozed authority in the way of a stallion in a herd of mares. His gaze slammed into her with an intensity which almost sent her reeling backward. He trapped her with a look and held her captive. With a knowing smirk, he tipped his stained hat at her. Lizzie’s body heated, and her breath sat heavy in her lungs, making it hard to draw a breath. Moistness grew between her legs.

Lizzie forced her attention elsewhere, but she could still feel his eyes on her, almost as if he’d physically caressed her. Shaken, she busied herself by grabbing her bag and rummaging through it. When she stole a glance in the man’s direction, he’d disappeared into the crowd.

Sofia Hunt
The First Bride, Brides of Bachelor Bay 1, Available Now from Siren Publishing
Riding the Circuit, Available July 18

http://www.sofiahunt.com/

New Release by guest Jenn Nixon: Wild & Wicked

2011-05-13T00:01:00.016-04:00

Please welcome Jenn Nixon who has a new novella releasing on the 15th:

Wild & Wicked is my first spicy novella ever! See, my brain works in weird, epic ways. When a story comes to me, it’s usually meant to be a novel with a solid beginning, middle, and end. Then, as I start writing it, the characters take on a life of their own, as many authors will attest to. But my characters not only take control of the story, they expand it, tremendously. My first major novel came in three parts. 100K words apiece! My second major novel turned into another trilogy of about 90K words a piece. (Getting smaller!) The third major project, had series written all over it before I even typed the opening scene. But I learned not to venture too far into sequels because peddling around 2 separate trilogies in two very different genres (Sci-Fi & Romantic Suspense) isn’t easy. At all. So, while I’ve written the first book of this new series, I stepped away to do other things while I shop it around.

The “other things” included delving a bit deeper into the Romance genre. See, I’m not the typical Romance reader. Honestly, I didn’t really like reading Romance until I was older and found the Romantic Suspense genre. When the opportunity to write a novella came my way, I jumped on it like bees to root beer! I took a story that had been running through my head for about six months and finally wrote it. It was a great experience and I loved Wild & Wicked so much that I had to write a sequel. Figures.

Blurb:

Veronica Chance’s sister has gone missing. In order to find Valerie, “Roni” takes a waitressing job at Foxxes Gentlemen’s Club, the last place her sister worked, to search for clues. First day on the job, the club owner makes her give a lap dance to his VIP guest, Mr. Storm. Veronica’s instant attraction to him spells trouble and threatens to blow her cover.

Former detective Mason Storm can’t deny the connection he feels for the wild and mysterious Roni. During the lap dance, he learns about her missing sister, offers his help, only to be rejected. Not ready to give up, he confronts her again, adding in the fact he’s see her sister in the club, but she denies him once more.

When Veronica calls, acting rather strangely, Storm finds her at the club, drugged and giving a lap dance to a kid at an illegal after party. Grateful for the help, Veronica comes clean about who she is, and accepts Storm’s offer to help. Together, they unravel the clues surrounding Valerie’s disappearance, uncover the horrible truth behind the illegal after parties, all the while exploring and succumbing to their lustful desires for each other.

Wild & Wicked from Tease Publishing – May 15th 2011

Jenn Nixon resides in New Jersey . She is a member of Romance Writers of America and Liberty State Fiction Writers. Her love for thrillers and suspense often finds its way into her novels whether they are Science Fiction or Romance. When not writing, Jenn spends her free time reading, absorbing pop culture and current events, and social networking online.

Visit Jenn Nixon online: www.jennnixon.com or:
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New Release by guest Jami Davenport: Fourth and Goal

2011-05-07T00:01:00.007-04:00

BUY LINK: http://www.loose-id.com/Fourth-and-Goal.aspx

Author Info:
Website: http://www.jamidavenport.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jamidavenport
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/jamidavenport

Blurb:

In a game played on and off the field, only one of them will emerge the winner.

Armed with an uncanny ability for evaluating football talent, a dogged determination to succeed in a man’s world, and an empty bank account, Rachel McCormick agrees to help struggling wide receiver Derek Ramsey get his game back. Rachel believes Derek, her former best friend and lover, knows the truth behind a points-shaving scandal which ruined her father. She vows to expose the secret even if it destroys Derek in the process.

When Derek’s coach suggests sex as an excellent tension reliever the night before a game, Rachel takes one for the team. The next day, Derek has the best performance of his not-so lustrous pro football career. As Derek and Rachel rack up nights in bed and other places, the team racks up wins on the field. Rachel is torn between her loyalty to her father and her growing affection for Derek. Now it’s fourth and goal, one second left on the clock. Their hearts are on the line. Do they trust each other enough to go for the long bomb or do they get dropped for a loss?

EXCERPT:

Chapter One -- The Kickoff

Hiring the one woman he could never forget was a dumb-assed idea and the wrong play to run, but Derek Ramsey took the ball and ran with it anyway. Five years ago, his one-weekend affair with Rachel McCormick had tackled him for an emotional loss. She’d been his best female buddy, and he’d fucked up a good thing by following his dick instead of his brain. After battling a half decade of guilt and coulda-shouldas, he dreaded and anticipated this reunion.

She’d been employed as his caretaker and living in the little house next to his barn for a few days. He’d managed to avoid contact by taking an impromptu weekend visit to his dad and stepmom a few hundred miles away. But he couldn’t stay away forever.

Weary of postponing the inevitable, Derek walked down the driveway from his ranch house to the barn and small caretaker’s house. Pausing halfway down the hill, he whistled for backup. Consider him a coward, but his chocolate Lab would serve as a diversion if this reunion didn’t go well. Oddly, Simon didn’t come running. Derek shrugged. He must be chasing rabbits in the woods or something.

He’d have to go it alone. As he rounded the last bend in his driveway, Rachel McCormick stomped up the hill toward him.

Oh fuck. He knew females. He’d endured growing up with an older sister. Rachel had that close-fisted, furious carriage to her stride that meant only one thing: someone was going to die. Please, God, don’t let it be him.

Even as he planned possible escape routes, his male head perused her body and responded with a resounding thumbs-up, though it wasn’t really his thumb that was up.

The woman marching toward him with murder in her eyes barely resembled his tomboy buddy from his high school and college days. This Rachel wore a navy blue blazer with matching skirt and shoes, complete with manicured nails and makeup. The suit hugged her tall, lean body and accentuated her curves and straight-to-heaven legs. Long reddish brown hair was pulled back into a tidy ponytail. While he preferred the blue jeans and T-shirt version, this one was just as gorgeous and way more unapproachable. Don’t mess with me radiated from every pore in her body. Not a glimpse of the shy, sweet Rachel he had once known.

“Rachel, good to see you again.” Derek spoke calmly -- hoping to defuse the bomb -- and halted a few steps from her.

She didn’t return his small talk. Green eyes blazing, she scowled, as dangerous as a hand grenade with the pin pulled in the hands of a chimpanzee.

“Problem?” he asked conversationally and forced a pleasant smile on his face.

“Do you own a demon chocolate Lab?”

Derek barked a laugh and sealed his death sentence. Her expression went beyond homicidal. “I have a Lab named Simon. He’s opinionated and untrainable. It sounds like you’ve met him.”

“How long has he engaged in a life of crime?”

“Oh shit. What did he steal now?”

“My truck keys. My only set.”

“Oh.”

“Where is the little delinquent?” She glanced up and down the driveway.

“I called for him earlier. He didn’t come. I suspect he’s busy burying the evidence.”

“I missed a job interview because of that hoodlum.” Her laser-tight glare sliced through his defenses.

“I’m sorry. I could get you a cab.”

“It’s too late now.” She spoke through gritted teeth and visibly drew in a long, calming breath. A split second of uncertainty flashed across her face, peppered with a vulnerability that brought memories flooding back to him of the girl he had once known. Sweet Rachel with a passion for football and a kind word for even the most unworthy person.

He watched as she gathered her composure and hid behind an emotionless mask. “I still need my keys.”

“I doubt we’ll find them. He’s very good. A serial digger.”

“What do you expect when you name a dog Simon? It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.” She stared up the dirt road. “My keys could be anywhere.”

Derek didn’t hold out much hope. Dense woods surrounded the driveway on both sides. At the end of the woods was a large field, cross-fenced into several smaller grassy paddocks. It’d take an act of God to find her keys. He truly doubted the Big Guy considered such a trivial matter worthy of his attention.

“So Simon’s on your hit list along with me.”

“Right up there at the top.” No denial of his place on the list.

“Are you a member of AAA?”

She pointed down the driveway. “That’s my truck. What do you think?”

He knew what he thought. He thought her lips looked pretty kissable, even without lipstick or gloss. He thought she was the sexiest thing he’d seen in a long time. And he thought -- oh damn, every thought bordered on dangerous and impossible and stupid.

“Derek.” She stared at him as if she expected an answer, but he’d be damned if he could remember the question.

“Yeah?”

“I said I’ve scaled back on material goods and choose to live life simply.”

He raised one eyebrow, not buying that one. “Judging by the dents in the thing, you might want to part with a few bucks…for your own safety.”

“Harvey has character.” Her anger still simmered below the surface, and a stranger stared back at him with frosty green eyes. Still beautiful, but formal and cold. He liked her better mad.

Derek snorted. “Harvey looks like he escaped a life sentence in a wrecking yard.”

“He runs great.” Rachel squared her shoulders and stood up straighter. She gave him her most charming smile, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “Look, champ, I’d love to stand out here and shoot the breeze with you, but I’m a busy woman. Your agent already discussed the particulars of the position with me.”

He imagined all sorts of particular positions he’d prefer to do with her. She’d feel pretty good in his arms right about now, all soft and warm. And then he’d take her to bed and bury his cock deep inside her. She’d scream and beg for more, just like one weekend so long ago. Derek shook his head. This line of thinking headed nowhere but trouble and stopped now.

“I’ll get you a locksmith.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll call one.”

Derek wiped sweat off his brow and shoved his hair off his forehead. Damn. Was she so oblivious to him that she wasn’t picking up on his thoughts? He hoped so. As far as money, he knew better than to offer any. She had her pride. He’d let her keep it. He knew how valuable pride was. Since college, his none too lustrous pro career had severely dented his.

A joyous bark caught his attention. Simon trotted down the road toward them. A stick hung from his mouth, and his tail wagged with enthusiasm. No sign of stolen goods. On his best doggy behavior, the felonious Lab sat down next to Derek, grinning for all he was worth and incredibly pleased with himself.

“Simon, meet Rachel. Rachel, meet Simon.” Simon thumped his tail on the ground and gazed up at her.

“We’ve met.” Rachel glared at the dog. Undaunted, Simon took it as a compliment and drooled on her foot.

“Rae, I’m sorry. He’s my dog. I’ll take care of this.”

“A dog-skin rug in front of my fireplace would be payment enough.”

“You don’t have a fireplace.”

“One small detail. I’ll build a campfire on the porch.”

“You’re a heartless woman.”

“Don’t you forget it.”

There were lots of things Rachel McCormick couldn’t forget. Topping the list was Derek Ramsey, her former longtime best friend and one-weekend-stand lover. And not just any weekend lover, but the shatter-your-heart-never-slept-with-anyone-else-before-or-after type of lover.

He still had that rugged profile, gorgeous butt, and long legs. An oh-so-familiar scar zigzagged down the length of one upper arm and ended at his elbow, a souvenir from a pissed-off defensive back during his college football days. A Rose Bowl tattoo graced the other arm, a new addition since she’d last seen him naked over five years ago.

She’d rather fight ten linebackers for the last piece of double chocolate fudge cake than face this man, but she was committed to her mission. Everything hinged on her handling the next few months in his presence. Seeing him brought back a painful onslaught of emotions. Her head pounded. Her stomach ached. Her hands shook. Her heart beat a little harder in her chest. Rachel thought she’d gotten over him long ago. It appeared she’d been fooling herself.

Half a decade may not have changed her physical reaction, but a melancholy layer of mistrust coated her emotional reaction, a painful reminder of good times never to be recovered. Worst of all, an emptiness engulfed her like a morning fog in downtown Seattle, more unsettling than the physical pain.

Aware of every inch of his six-feet-five frame, Rachel turned to make a graceful exit. Big mistake. Her ankle twisted. Her clumsy feet wrapped around each other, and down she went, only to be suspended in midfall and hauled against his strong chest. He smelled of pure male with an underlying scent uniquely his. Their gazes met and locked. Sadness flickered in his eyes, then extinguished like a candle in a hurricane.

She gripped his shoulders. Her attempt to right herself rubbed her chest against his. Her body thrummed with excitement and anticipation, refusing to listen to warnings from her head. Those familiar brown eyes, kind and concerned, stared down at her like warm fudge brownies straight from her mother’s oven. A few wrinkles in the corners testified to the miles he’d put on since their college days. Yet they only added to his overall killer appearance -- an appearance of which he’d always been relatively oblivious. She, however, wasn’t.

Her heart lay down at his feet and begged for any crumb he chose to throw her way. Her pride gave it a swift kick in the pants and forced it back to reality. This man was not her friend. Not anymore. Not after what he’d done to her father.

“You’re still fighting a losing battle with gravity.” His mouth quirked and his eyes sparkled as he slipped into his old teasing banter.

“What makes you think that?” She’d mastered stilted conversation, but her voice shook like an unbalanced washing machine.

“I’m still holding you up.” His voice vibrated with that too-familiar deep, rich tone, making her want to jump into the nearest bed and drag him with her. Fortunately it was edged with pity and regret, which poured water on her fire.

She jerked out of his arms, backed up, and stumbled. He saved her again, this time around her waist. His big hands steadied her before he let go. Standing upright, Rachel pulled down her skirt and smoothed the wrinkles in her suit.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he held back a grin. “You’re a danger to yourself. How you’ve survived this long I’ll never know.”

“I’m nursing a bum ankle.”

“Bullshit.” He squinted into the sun at her. Leave it to Derek to call it as he saw it.

“Gravity is not my friend.” Her jaw clenched. She didn’t need him to point out her lack of coordination. It’d been the butt of her family’s jokes since birth.

“Gravity is your nemesis.” He raised one eyebrow for emphasis, still battling that smile. His gaze traveled the length of her body and lit up with appreciation.

Rachel took a step back, but a few feet couldn’t squelch the sexual chemistry crackling between them. “Thank you.” Let him think she always dressed like this, not just for an aborted job interview, thanks to a key-pilfering dog.

“You don’t look like you.” His brow furrowed as he continued to assess this new look of hers.

“Actually I do. I’ve outgrown my college image.” A bald-faced lie, but what did he know? He hadn’t seen her in five years. Despite feeling like an imposter, her power suit acted like Kevlar body armor, effectively disguising the chickenshit female bent on justice underneath.

His gaze settled on her face. “I always liked the way you looked. Natural. No pretenses. Real.” His voice came out soft and low.

Rachel had always liked how he looked too -- and still did. She stood up straighter and faked a confidence she didn’t feel, thanks to the suit. “It’s been a long time.”

The man looked at the ground and kicked at a small rock with the toe of his shoe. His head lifted, and he met her gaze. “Lots of changes. I suppose you know I haven’t taken professional football by storm.”

“I heard.” She’d heard plenty, such as washed-up, a disappointment, lost his nerve, finished. The list went on and on. Sympathy for his situation warred with cynicism regarding his character.

He forced a smile. “And you?”

“In between jobs right now. Just waiting for the right thing to come along.”

“You got a bum rap.”

“Who told you?”

“Tyler.”

“Cass talks too much.” Rachel averted her eyes, unable to face his sympathetic gaze. She shrugged like her employment status was nothing when it was everything.

“I’m sorry to hear about your dad. I considered him a mentor, a role model. I still don’t believe it.” His discomfort obvious, he concentrated on petting Simon. The dog’s tail thumped energetically on the ground.

“Neither do I.” A lump lodged in her throat. The pain inside squeezed the breath from her lungs. She studied Derek’s body language, searching for a revealing chink in his armor, but found nothing but sincere concern.

Derek threw the stick and jumped back as Simon barreled past. “I’m sure things will work out in the end.”

She was counting on it. “I hope so. In my line of work, jobs are a rare commodity.”

Derek started to open his mouth and seemed to think better of it. Most likely he didn’t have a clue what her line of work was. Heck, she wasn’t even sure what it was anymore.

Their small talk dried up, and an awkward silence followed. His jaw worked like it always did when he was trying to find the right words. “I want to thank you for agreeing to watch my animals and my place on such short notice.”

“It’s convenient for both of us.” He had no idea how convenient, nor would he be grateful to her if he knew her real reason for being here.

“Thanks just the same. There is one tiny catch.”

“What?” Rachel caught the twinkle in his eyes.

“Him.” Derek indicated the dog.

“Not him.”

“Yup, Simon.” At the sound of his name, Simon dropped the slobber-coated stick at her feet and whined.

She grimaced and ignored the stick. “Are you sure he’ll be out on parole?”

“I’m pretty sure.” His mouth twitched upward in a smile.

* * * * *

Two hours later, after several changes of clothes and a half-dozen unsuccessful attempts at applying makeup, Rachel hopped into Derek’s waiting car.

“Sorry it took me so long.”

“You’re a woman.” As if that explained everything. “We’ll grab a bite at the bar down the road and go over things. You didn’t need to dress up for that place.” He took in her ivory blouse and black pants.

It wasn’t the power suit, but it’d have to do. Her meager unemployment check didn’t pay for good business suits.

“I’m more comfortable in these clothes.” She looked out the car window. She’d always been a lousy liar.

Derek frowned, seemingly uneasy with this new Rachel. They drove in silence. A few minutes later, they sat at a table in a local bar, eating burgers and nursing their drinks. Derek went over last-minute instructions, and Rachel wrote down the details.

“I guess that’s everything. You’re taking a load off my mind. I couldn’t ask for a better caretaker.”

“That’s right, buster.”

“You’ll stay on until the end of my season?”

“Certainly. That’s the plan.”

“This season is pivotal to my future.” He smiled at her and warmed her from the inside out. Despite her misgivings, she felt oddly comfortable around him.

“I know that too.” She toyed with her napkin, ripped the corners off, and wished she’d worn the power suit.

“Do you?”

“I pay attention.” She lifted her head and met his steady gaze. Her heart ached for the carefree young man she had once known and for simpler times.

“I haven’t exactly lived up to my potential.”

“You will.” He’d given his all to the game he loved, yet it hadn’t been enough.

A slow smile spread across his face. “You always had faith in me. Have you seen me play in the past year?”

“A little.” A lie -- she’d watched every single game.

Looking away, he focused at a spot on the wall. “Remember how we used to pore over game film? You saw stuff no one else saw. Those little things make a big difference.”

“I tried.” She wanted to help him now, to tell him what she’d observed when she’d watched him play. Instead she held her tongue.

“You helped me. A lot. Now I just don’t know. I’ve lost it, and I don’t know how to get it back.”

“You’re not a quitter. You’ll find a way.” Part of her longed to take him in her arms and hold him, to deny he’d played a role in ruining her dad. Proving this man guilty would be more difficult than she’d ever imagined.

“I hope so.” His dark eyes brimmed with sorrow. “It’s good to have you here. To talk to you.”

“The agreement works for both of us.”

“Rae, I’m sorry. I was an insensitive ass our senior year. I never meant to hurt you. We should’ve never crossed the line between friends and --” He hesitated, struggling with the words.

“Friends with benefits.” She waved a hand and dismissed the subject as if her broken heart had been nothing at all, just an immature crush. “It’s in the past. Old history. No need to apologize. We were both young and dumb. End of story.” Rachel gulped down her liquid courage and called forth the ice princess. Unfortunately Her Highness refused to cooperate without her power suit of armor.

“Do you think there’s a chance we could be friends again?” Derek leaned forward. His chocolate eyes, earnest and bright, searched hers.

Rachel looked away and forced all expression from her face. “Let’s not run that play yet.”

It might be the one play that’d drop them both for a loss.

Interview with Author Jami Davenport

2011-05-06T00:01:00.008-04:00

Please welcome fellow Loose Id author, Jami Davenport, who has out a new release: Fourth and Goal!

• Tell me a little bit about yourself.

I’m a life-long resident of Washington state, which is probably why my books are set in Washington. I grew up a small-town girl, went to college at Washington State University, and now work in IT for my day job. I’m an avid horsewoman and ride and show in dressage. I live on a small farm on the Olympic Peninsula with my wonderful husband, 2 dogs, 1 cat, and a horse. I’ve just become a grandmother for the first time.

• Do you use a pseudonym and if so, why?

I wanted a separation between my day job and my writing career. I’m a private person, and I didn’t want to deal with friends and co-workers misunderstand and disrespect romance writers.

• What genre do you write in? Why did you pick that genre?

I write contemporary romance as Jami and REALLY hot romance under another pen name. Contemporary romance is my first love, what I prefer to write. My specialty is equestrian- and sports-related romances.

• What inspires you to write the type of stories that you write?

Usually experiences I have or stories I hear about for someone else. I wrote Fourth and Goal because I love football, and I was frustrated with the football hero romances currently being published. In the vast majority of them, the heroine did not like or understand football, the hero often gave up the game for the heroine, or the football was barely a part of the story. You could have changed the hero’s career and nothing in the story would change.

So I asked myself: What if? What if the heroine is not only a fan, but she wants a career in football? What if she’s more knowledgeable about the game than most men? What if the hero isn’t a big star but a struggling third stringer attempting to resurrect his career? And that’s Fourth and Goal.

• How would you describe your writing style? Plotter or pantser? Why?

I’m an instinctual writer (OK, pantser), but I’ve found once I write a third of the book, that I really need to do an brief outline for the rest of the book so I don’t wander all over the place.

• What is your favorite genre to READ?

LOL!!! Guess what? Contemporary romance with hot sports heroes. I also love a good historical set in regency England and a great thriller or romantic suspense.

• Do you have a specific place where you like to write? When, during the day, is your most creative time?

I write in lots of places. My favorite is in the living room in the rocking chair next to the two-story windows that look out into the woods surrounding my property. Unfortunately, my most creative time to write is in the morning, but I’m at my day job then, so I make do and write in the evenings.

• What’s your typical writing day?

I don’t really have a typical one because of the demands of my day job, but I try to write 500 to 2000 words a day and three times that on the weekends.

• Do you have critique partners or beta readers? Why?

I have a couple CPs, both pubbed with NY pubs) who are wonderful authors and great CPs. You need another pair of eyes to read your work because you get to close to it to see the holes.

• Who gave you the most support along in your writing?

I would have to say several people. My local RWA chapter is incredibly supportive, also Lucy Monroe believed in me and my writing before anyone else did. My CPs and my good friends, Wendi Darlin and Allie K. Adams.

• Do you have another job (besides writing)? If so, what do you do?

I’m the computer support coordinator for a state agency.

• What’s your take on the future of ebooks and epublishing?

I think ebooks and epublishing will eventually outsell print books. I see less and less print books on the horizon. The wonderful thing about ebooks is you get so much variety. Authors can find the niches for books off the beaten path rather than cram their book into a narrow NY mold.

• Do you have a favorite quote -- yours or someone famous or even infamous?

I only have this kitchen because it came with the house.

• What’s your favorite food?

Anything Mexican, especially a Mexican coffee, LOL!!!

• What’s your favorite movie? Why?

Overboard. What a great story, great romance, great everything.

• Do you have a favorite book or author?

Susan Elizabeth Phillips, but my favorite book is Mirror Image by Sandra Brown.

• Tell me about your latest or upcoming release?

Fourth and Goal available from Loose Id now. Here’s a blurb for you:

It’s fourth and goal, one second left on the clock. Derek and Rachel are racking up points in bed. Do they trust each other enough to go for the long bomb or do they get dropped for a loss?

• Do you have any releases scheduled for 2011?

Yes, Fourth and Goal, and hopefully the sequel, Forward Passes. Also at least three under my other pen name.

• What’s your next project?

Forward Passes which is Book 2 of my Seattle Lumberjack series. In this book I return to the San Juans Islands (also the location in two previous books) and tell the story of the wild boy quarterback introduced in F & G.

• Where can readers find you on the web?

Author Info:
Website: http://www.jamidavenport.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jamidavenport
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/jamidavenport

WTF Wednesday

2011-05-04T00:01:00.000-04:00

What a GREAT family photo... Who needs maternity clothes? They're overrated. Just unzip your pants and pull up your shirt!

New Release by guest Gem Sivad: Quincy's Woman

2011-04-28T00:01:00.031-04:00

Thanks for having me on your blog, Jeanne! I’m very excited about my new Ellora’s Cave title, Quincy’s Woman. It is the latest addition to my Eclipse, Texas erotic western romance series. Oh, and it’s about the first year of marriage between Texas rancher, Ambrose Quince and Boston debutante, Lucille McKenna, a bride of eighteen who knows nothing about ranching, cooking, or bedsports.

When I wrote Intimate Strangers, I had no idea I was beginning an erotic western series. Five titles later, Eclipse, Texas is still calling to me. Quincy’s Woman is chronologically, Book One because I travelled back in time to 1866 to explore the year the unlikely couple met and married.

For those who are already familiar with my 19th century town, Eclipse, Texas, and the many characters you’ve met there, I hope you’ll read the beginning story, Quincy’s Woman and watch for the expanded versions of those you’ve already enjoyed.

As of May 26th, three titles, Intimate Strangers, Wolf’s Tender and Breed True will become unavailable in both print and ebook format as I add new scenes, brighten them up with new covers, and prepare them for re-release. For readers who haven’t sampled any of the series yet—here’s the blurb and excerpt for Quincy’s Woman:

Blurb:

Fresh from the post-Civil War salons and drawing rooms of Boston, Lucy McKenna considers herself a sophisticated young woman. But when she meets Texas rancher, Ambrose Quince, she turns into a flustered girl. He’s too old, war roughened and unrefined—and she has no idea how to deal with the sensual hunger he arouses within her.

Ambrose falls fast and hard for the innocent debutante visiting Eclipse, Texas. Persuading Lucy to accept his pursuit becomes a duel of wits and passion as he awakens her desire.

Lucy leaves Boston and childhood behind when she becomes Mrs. Ambrose Quince. Her lonely days on the Double-Q ranch are filled with work and frustration. But the nights are spent in her husband’s arms learning carnal awareness one molten caress at a time.

An Excerpt From: QUINCY’S WOMAN

ISBN: 9781419933424

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

One day, as father looked through his spyglass at the herd of mustangs, I stood apart, watching the wild horses from the crest of the bluff above where they grazed. From a distance, they seemed a motley group. Nothing distinguished them but the red stallion leading the herd. He arched his neck and trumpeted a challenge as though he knew we watched. Then he snorted and circled his mares, urging them into a gallop as they fled.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Mr. Quince stood behind me, close enough so that I could feel the heat of his body.

I moved away, putting space between us and he said, “Hot out here for a woman with such delicate skin. I imagine you’d like to shuck some of those fancy clothes right now.” He made statements like that often, not seeming to understand the inappropriateness of his personal observations.

As for my fancy clothes, I’d worn my Boston riding livery, certainly not as elegant as my hunt dress. Mr. Quince’s remarks irritated me almost as much as the hot sun beating down on the heavy dark material. I was perspiring beneath it and miserably aware of the damp material clinging to my body. I ached to return to the shade of the hotel.

But I refused to admit my state of discomfort to the rancher. “I’m perfectly fine, Mr. Quince, but thank you for your concern.”

He shrugged and walked to where Papa stood, still following the progress of the horses. “There’s a cave hidden in the rock formation behind us. Would it be all right if I show it to Lucy? It’s a lot cooler inside than out here.” He asked permission from Papa without even suggesting it to me. I would have declined immediately had I been given the choice.

Papa waved vaguely in my direction and said, “Go along, Daughter. I suspect you’re bored and I expect Ambrose is right. The shade will be a pleasant respite for you.”

Mr. Quince looked smug and took my arm before I could make excuses. The cave was dark until Ambrose lit a torch by the entrance. I immediately experienced the drop in temperature, shivering in delight at the balm of cool air. Once inside, we stood in a pool of flickering light. I gazed around the massive cavern, pretending interest in the rocks rather than look at him.

He stepped closer and turned me to face him. Later when I recalled the event, I experienced the same trembling ache his next actions wrought. Ambrose Quince kissed me. Without my consent, he brushed his lips across mine. When I didn’t respond, not really knowing how, he draped my arms around his neck and pulled me closer.

A different kind of heat seized me. My internal temperature soared as my body brushed against his. My womb tightened, clenching as a shudder rippled across my flesh and I looked up breathlessly.

Mr. Quince’s stature being much greater than my own, he seemed to engulf me in the embrace as he molded my body against his. I later assured myself that had he not kept claim to my mouth and held me secured against his frame, I would have fled his intimate conduct.

But he held me fast, and I didn’t struggle for release when he continued the kiss. He savored my lips and murmured sounds that vibrated across my nerve endings. At first, I felt the barest stroke of his tongue—a not unpleasant sensation of wet heat touching my bottom lip. Nudging against the seam of my closed mouth, he muttered, “Open for me.”

Heat pulsed through me and I leaned into his kiss, obeying his order. It was as if I had no will of my own and must comply. He slid his tongue with shocking smoothness through the narrow space I allowed. My whimpered distress didn’t deter his intent. He tasted me, stroking my tongue with his in the most startling fashion.

“Kiss me back, Lucy,” he said against my lips.

It frightened me how easily he invaded my person, mastering my will. I melted against him, enjoying the feel of his tongue tangling with mine. It was intoxicating, making me heady and weak. Clutching the back of his shirt in my hand, I clung to him, needing to anchor myself lest I swoon.

When he tipped my head even farther back and arched my body over his arm, my breasts pressed against my dress, creating friction. I had the terrible urge to move against his chest and purr like a tabby cat, stretching and rubbing on him.

At last releasing my mouth, he stepped away from me and I almost fell. I had been so enthralled by his attentions my limbs seemed turned to liquid.

He drew me back in his arms but refrained from a second kiss. “You taste so sweet,” he growled in a voice even deeper than usual.

“You take liberties you shouldn’t,” I whispered, stepping away and putting distance between us. My breath was constricted and I almost panted the words.

Ambrose closed the distance I’d gained and covered my mouth with his again. This time, the kiss was a feathery stroke that ended up a nibble as he pressed his lips along my chin and up to my ear.

He nuzzled the sensitive lobe and murmured, “Shouldn’t I?” Brushing his mouth across mine again, he sought to make me recant my words. He delivered soft caresses to my face and neck, all the time emitting a low rumbling sound.

I swayed on my feet, completely undone and speechless until he growled, “Your skin is as soft as a kitten’s belly.”

The image of Ambrose Quince caressing my stomach popped into my head and finally I wrenched free, backing toward the cave entrance as though the devil stood before me. His image, outlined by the flickering torch, strengthened the comparison and I whispered desperately, “I do not favor your attentions, Mr. Quince. Please desist from further pursuit.”

When we left the cavern, my lips were numb, swollen from his kisses and my own excessive response. I prayed Father wouldn’t notice. I need not have worried. Papa was so elated by the stallion he’d marked for his possession he spoke only to Ambrose.

BUY LINK: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9292-quincys-woman.aspx

WTF Wednesday

2011-04-27T00:01:00.007-04:00

Big WHAT???? Oh, BIG TIPS!

New Release by guest Maryn Sinclair: Sexual Persuasion

2011-04-26T00:01:00.014-04:00

EXCERPT:

"So tell me more about you, Charlotte Stone.”

“Nothing much to tell. Very ordinary, I’m afraid.”

“Hmm, I doubt that.”

She surveyed the club. There were a few male/female couples, but most were partnered with their own sex. Men with men. Women with women. Her stomach somersaulted. “This is a gay bar.”

Alex leaned closer. “Is it?”

“You know it is.”

“Is there something wrong with that? The jazz is better than any place in town, and Moe carries excellent brands of liquor and beer. The coffee’s Brazilian. What more could you want? Unless, of course, you have something against gay people.”

“I…I don’t know. I’ve never been in a gay bar before.”

“Then don’t judge. Sit back, have a drink, and enjoy the music.”

“So you come in here with your boss? What’s his name? Max?”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Alex’s face. “You’re being coy, Charlotte. You knew Max’s name. Your lawyer friend, Darcy Haven, gave you an earful, remember? The guy who controls all of Boston’s rackets?”

“His attorney said not all, if I remember correctly.”

Alex grinned. “You got me.” The waitress appeared. “Now what’ll you have to drink?”

“A glass of cabernet.”

“Glenlivet 18, rocks,” he said.

Charlotte watched the couples. Was Alex trying to tell her something by coming here? See my world? This is who I am. Or part of who I am. Or was it exactly as he said? Good music, good liquor, good coffee. Whatever his reason, it had nothing to do with her. One evening. One drink, maybe two. That would be all she wrote.

Moe and two other men stepped up on the tiny stage: a bassist and a small guy on vibes. The room resembled a scene from an old black-and-white movie. Charlotte expected Bogart drinking at the next table with Bacall, Sydney Greenstreet, and Peter Lorre huddled in the back room.

She did what Alex suggested. She sat back and listened to the music of Count Basie, Duke Ellington, and a few progressive jazz artists. A heavyset black woman came out to cheers and whistles and went into renditions of familiar songs made famous by Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, and other song stylists of bygone days. Her voice smoldered husky and bluesy. The woman caught Alex’s gaze a couple of times and smiled as if they were old friends. Charlotte liked her singing a lot.

Enthralled by the music, Charlotte didn’t realize her wineglass had been refilled until she picked it up. Maybe they traded her glass more than once, because she felt light-headed and mellow. After an hour and a half, the group took a break.

“We can stay for the next set, if you want,” Alex said.

“We’d better go. Not because I’m bored, but I’m tired. Six days is a long week.”

“Too long. You should talk to your boss about another day off.”

Moe came over to the table as they were getting up. “Don’t be a stranger, Alex. And bring the pretty lady with you again.” He leaned down and kissed Charlotte’s hand. “Hope you enjoyed our little club. Come again, even if you don’t bring this guy.”

“You’re on my list of favorite places now,” Charlotte said. “Thanks.”

Alex and Moe shook hands. Alex waved to someone at the entrance, stuffed a bill in the hand of the waitress, and ushered Charlotte to the door. His car waited. Another bill in the valet’s hand, and they were inside. He leaned across the car, his right arm hugging the back of her seat, almost touching her but not quite. She was conscious of his proximity, of his mixture of scents: scotch, cologne, and maleness. Of sex.

“What did you really think about Moe’s?” he asked.

She had to control the urge to move closer. Could she tempt him if she did? “Great place,” she managed to say. “Thanks for introducing me to it.”
He returned a thoughtful nod. “Good. Now, where do you live?”

“Above the store.” She thought he’d ask more about that arrangement, but he didn’t. And he didn’t talk on the drive home. She wondered if he had found out all he wanted to know about her, and now his curiosity had been satisfied.

He double parked in front of her building, pulled out his card holder, and extracted a card. “Before we get out, here’s my card. If Jack Davidson bothers you again, call me.”

“Why? What can you do about it?”

“Just call.”

She took the card, sure she’d never need it. When she reached for the door handle, he put a hand across her chest. “A lady should always wait if she’s with a gentleman.” He got out and opened her door. Then, as they walked to the entrance, he took the key from her hand and slipped it into the lock. “I’m glad you decided to join me for a drink.”

“So am I.”

As he handed back the key, he said, “Anyone else have this?”
She shook her head.

“Good.” He maneuvered her to the wall of the small entry and captured both her wrists, holding them above her head. She didn’t feel threatened, not even when he moved closer, his lips within a hairbreadth of hers. He lingered there, his eyes taking in her every feature. She could almost taste the mellow, smoky scotch he’d drunk. He pressed against her body, forcing her breasts to swell over her plunging neckline. His erection drove hard into her belly. He looked down, but he didn’t touch her. His gaze rose to meet hers.

Could he see the pounding beat of her heart through her skin? The quickened pulse throbbing in her neck? Could he smell the hot liquid dampening her thong? He stayed against her, saying nothing.

He whispered in her ear, “Good night, Charlotte Stone.” Then he released her wrists, and with a flick of his finger under her nose, turned, got into his car, and drove away.

Charlotte stood there, frozen to the spot, wrists still hot from his hold, heart thundering. She thought he was going to kiss her. She didn’t want him to, but she did. What just happened? Who was this man who brought her desire to the edge and left her wanting more?

She trudged up the stairs, reeling from the evening’s events. The nasty confrontation with Jack. Alex’s affectionate touch and his almost-kiss. She shook them both off with a mental slap, remembering her new vow. She didn’t need a man to complicate her life. In the past, she’d let men walk all over her. Well, that wouldn’t happen again. People had always told her how smart she was. In school, in college, even in business. But she lost every drop of sense when it came to men. She believed their lies, one after the other, and she wound up hurt every time. Not anymore. All she needed now was a good night’s sleep.

Distracted by her thoughts, she didn’t see the form sprawled on her sofa until after she closed and locked the door. She audibly gasped.

“How was the evening with your new lover?” Jack Davidson said.

BUY LINK: http://www.loose-id.com/Sexual-Persuasion.aspx

Interview with Author Maryn Sinclair

2011-04-25T00:01:00.016-04:00

Please welcome fellow Loose Id author, Maryn Sinclair, who has a new release coming out tomorrow: Sexual Persuasion!

• Tell me a little bit about yourself.

o I’ve done a little bit of everything. I started out as a fashion illustrator and switched to drawing storyboards for TV commercials. I’ve owned a home furnishings store and ran a business selling antique textiles that my husband and I imported. Writing hooked me from the beginning, and that was it for other careers.

• Do you use a pseudonym and if so, why?

o Yes, Maryn Sinclair is a pseudonym. I write in other genres and feel if I build a reputation in one genre, it shouldn’t cross into another. I must admit that sometimes I feel a little schizophrenic because while I have two different names, I’m really one person with the same ideas, except when it comes to putting concepts on paper/computer. Plus, I have sons who think their mother writing sexy novels is—how can I say this—icky.

• What genre do you write in? Why did you pick that genre?

o Besides contemporary erotic romance, I’ve written a couple of soft thrillers and a few romantic suspense novels. I don’t feel my erotic romances are much different than my RS books except for the sex scenes. I haven’t written an erotic romance with a dead body yet, but that’s not to say I won’t. I’ve always written sex scenes, but the erotic romances I’m writing now have more, well, erotic moments.

• What inspires you to write the type of stories that you write?

o The characters. Always the characters. When I get an idea, it always begins with either my hero or heroine, and they always have a backstory that needs to unfold so they can get on with their lives.

• How would you describe your writing style? Plotter or pantser? Why?

o No question: pantser. I NEVER know where the story will take me or what characters will evolve on the way. I have a general idea where I want to wind up, but getting there is as much a surprise to me as I hope it is to the reader. I think that’s what makes writing so exciting. I know there are different points of view on this and some writers have to know every twist and turn before they put one word on paper, but that’s not me. Predictable is not a word any writer wants to hear. Erotic romance has a built in conclusion, so there is a bit of predictability. It’s the road traveled that should be interesting.

• What is your favorite genre to READ?

o I like a little bit of everything. I like the excitement of crime fiction, the feel-good emotion and fantasy of romance, and the plot twists of a good mystery. So I guess I’m ambi-lexterous. Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

• Do you have a specific place where you like to write? When, during the day, is your most creative time?

o I write in a few places. In the winter, I write under the covers in bed, because I hate to be cold. In good weather, I write outside, and sometimes I write on the sofa in my office. I don’t write on my PC, but I answer all correspondence on the PC in the morning. There’s something more intimate about writing on a laptop, so that’s where I do my best work.

• What’s your typical writing day?

o From morning to night. If my mind bogs down in a story, I switch to another story or edit. Then I go back to it. I have no problem changing gears. There are days when I have to do those housey things. That’s part of life.

• Do you have critique partners or beta readers? Why?

o I have a few wonderful critique partners. Each one has a different strength, and I hope I offer them something their other CPs don’t. It works out well. One thing we all are to one another is supportive.

• Who gives you the most support along in your writing?

o My husband because he leaves me alone, and one critique partner who is always there for me, Ellis Vidler. She’s my rock.

• Do you have another job (besides writing)? If so, what do you do?

o No other job now. When I started writing, I owned a store, but the lure of the stories took over, and that’s all I wanted to do.

• What’s your take on the future of ebooks and epublishing?

o E-publishing is definitely here to stay, so that means e-books are too. With e-book readers such as the Kindle and Nook on the rise, I see the industry developing more to accommodate the e-book world, and that includes the big publishers. They won’t have a choice other than to hop on the bandwagon. This doesn’t mean paper books will become obsolete. Nothing compares to holding a book in your hand and turning pages.

• Do you have a favorite quote -- yours or someone famous or even infamous?

o “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible with the eye.” It’s from “The Little Prince,” by Antoine de Exupéry. I love that quote because it means you cut through the visual and go straight to the core.

• What’s your favorite food?

o Pasta and potatoes. I’m a carbs gal. In my book—excuse the pun—there is no such thing as a bad potato. I don’t care how it’s cooked. I have a picture of me at five-years old with my hand in a bag of potato chips. I haven’t changed.

• What’s your favorite movie? Why?

o There are so many, but I’d have to say Casablanca. It’s a mix of romance, intrigue, and pathos, with a great cast of characters, which, for me, describes the perfect movie. Even though it’s almost 70 years old, it still holds up. And I love the fact that when it was made, the director filmed two endings, and he didn’t know which one he’d use. If that isn’t pantser, I don’t know what is.

• Do you have a favorite book or author?

o The ultimate romance: Gone with the Wind. I don’t think any book matches it for scope or romantic conflict, even though the ending isn’t HEA. I also love Rebecca for mystery and romance combined. I have many favorite authors in many genres, some for excellent writing, others for the sheer power of their stories. I love Dennis Lehane’s work, Michael Connelly, and James Lee Burke. Sandra Brown for RS. There’s an English writer by the name of Mo Hayder who can be downright scary. Too many others to mention.

• Tell me about your latest or upcoming release?

o “Sexual Persuasion,” published by Loose Id, is a multi-layered contemporary erotic romance. It’s about lust, secrets, danger, and love. Charlotte Stone has a weakness for handsome, untrustworthy men. Alex Andros seems to fall into that category. He’s a brilliant attorney with one client--the head of Boston’s mob. Alex also has the reputation of being the mob boss’s lover. Alex knows the rumors and couldn’t care less what anyone thinks of him. He’s as much taken with Charlotte as he was seventeen years before with the man who changed the way he loved. Then there’s Charlotte’s slimy old boyfriend, Alex’s old boyfriend, and—well, you’ll just have to read it to find out what happens.

• Do you have any releases scheduled for 2011?

o Sexual Persuasion comes out tomorrow on the Loose Id website. After that, I have one more, The Escort, also with Loose Id. It’s about a divorced high school guidance counselor desperate for money to pay her daughter’s doctor bills. She takes a job as an escort with a fee of ten thousand dollars. The client is a former Army colonel who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and blinded in an enemy attack. He’s handsome, sexy, rich, and convinced he can bed her during their three-day stay at a five-star inn where he plans to help two soldiers who survived the attack with him. Of course, there are all kinds of complications, because that’s the kind of story I write.

• What’s your next project?

o Something a little different for me. It’s still a contemporary erotic romance, though. I’m not far enough along to be sure it works. Remember, I’m a pantser.

• Where can readers find you on the web?

o http://marynsinclair.com/
I have pages for both books and excerpts too. Enjoy.

Also at http://www.loose-id.com/Our-Authors/Maryn-Sinclair/

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-04-24T00:01:00.006-04:00

Welcome to Six Sentence Sunday! This week I am posting a random six sentences of my best-selling, erotic romance, BANGED UP, available in ebook at Liquid Silver Books here or for your Kindle here.

Hell, if he was smart, he would have woken up with her in his arms, preferably naked, and started the day off right. But no. Instead, he lay on his mattress by his lonesome, his only company his morning, or more like mid-morning, wood.

He slid a hand down past the elastic of his boxer briefs and straightened out his hard-on. Damn. Doing it himself just wasn't the same. It was like settling for an after-dinner mint when you really wanted dessert.

Check out some of my other fellow authors' Six Sentence Sunday!

Interview with Author Chelle Cordaro

2011-04-23T00:01:00.027-04:00

Please welcome fellow author, Chelle Cordaro!

• Tell me a little bit about yourself.

I’m a freelance writer with 2 writing personas, one as a novelist and the other as a newspaper and magazine journalist. I’m the mom of 2 grown offspring who amaze me every day with the kind of caring and capabilities they display. My husband (of 35+ years) is a hero in my eyes for all that he does for his family and the community. I’ve always enjoyed a world of support from my family including my late parents, my sister, my husband and my kids.

• Do you use a pseudonym and if so, why?

I use my maiden name, or as I tell everyone, I use MY name. I am very proud to be Mrs. Mark E., but when it comes down to it, I am Chelle Cordero.

• What genre do you write in? Why did you pick that genre?

Writers are often told to write the kind of stories they like to read – I love a good hot romance or an edge of your seat thriller/mystery, so I combine those in my writing.

• What inspires you to write the type of stories that you write?

I’m very fortunate to be involved in my community and have a lot of friends who aren’t “dull”. I am a NYS volunteer EMT, So much happens around us every day, you just have to keep your eyes open! Snippets of all I say, do or hear stay in my mind and become characters nd situations that just have to be written down.

• How would you describe your writing style? Plotter or pantser? Why?

Basically I tend to be a pantser. With my last book ((Hyphema) I found that I was a “spurter”. I had moments where the need to sit and write just happened and there was no stemming the flow.

• Do you have a specific place where you like to write? When, during the day, is your most creative time?

I have an office with a desktop PC that I use; mostly I like to sit in my comfortable recliner in the living room and type on my netbook. I feel most creative at night.

• What’s your typical writing day?

First of all, I am not a morning person, so my day usually doesn’t’ begin until 10 or 11 am. I make myself breakfast, take it to my recliner, turn on the TV (depending on the time, sometimes to watch The Price is Right), watch the midday news (which is full of story ideas) and then I type. Depending on writing assignments for newspapers or mags, I will do research online, send query letters for interviews, etc. I spend time on Facebook, checking email. Updating my blogs, Twitter and more email (I’ve got 6 accounts!). I use online social networking sites to help promote my books, keep up with friends and family, and get support from fellow writers. And as I said before, my fiction writing is in spurts.

• Who gives you the most support along in your writing?

My family is very supportive of what I do, but I have to admit, my husband and kids rarely read my books although they do read much of my newspaper articles. My kids often make comments about something I write in a column or such. As for my novels, the MOST encouraging folks are my sister Bobi, my Uncle Erv, my publisher Kimberlee, fellow writers and good friends Charmaine and Janet, and my best friend Cheryl.

• Do you have another job (besides writing)? If so, what do you do?

My “other job” is writing. Also, even though it is volunteer, I ride as an EMT with my local ambulance corps and currently sit on the board of Directors of the organization; I am very passionate about emergency medical services.

• What’s your take on the future of ebooks and epublishing?

While it is still a joy to hold a real book in the hands, ebooks are here to stay; they are often more economical to produce and buy, ebooks are a lot easier to store (my bookshelves are literally overflowing) and they are so easy to get your hands on with instant downloads.

• Do you have a favorite quote -- yours or someone famous or even infamous?

“Thunder’s just the noise boys, Lightnin’ does the work”

• What’s your favorite food?

I don’t think it is a particular food, more a style. I love ethnic dishes, especially Mexican.

• What’s your favorite movie? Why?

The Bucket List – aside from the fact that I really enjoyed the 2 actors, it is a reminder to live life now and not to keep putting things off.

• Do you have a favorite book or author?

I used to say Dean Koontz or Jonathan Kellerman, but in the past few years I have read so many indie books by less well known authors, it is hard to single just one author out anymore. I read a lot of books by my fellow VHP authors and really enjoy those.

• Tell me about your latest or upcoming release?

Hyphema which is coming out in ebook this week and in print by July, is a suspense thriller. Hyphema features Matt Garratti, a character that was first seen in my murder mystery Final Sin. Matt, formerly a NYS paramedic, has moved his family to North Carolina where he now works as a flight medic. His wife is a Pakistani Muslim who is working towards her citizenship. They encounter prejudices and suspicion; when strange things begin happening, eyes turn towards ethnic issues.

• Where can readers find you on the web?

My website, http://chellecordero.com/
my blog http://chellecordero.blogspot.com/
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/chelle.cordero
Twitter https://www.facebook.com/chelle.cordero

Thanks so much for hosting me here Jeanne

WTF Wednesday

2011-04-20T00:01:00.005-04:00

I wish FB really had all these options. Then we wouldn't be so confused about some people's relationship.

New Release by guest Cassandra Carr: Talk to Me

2011-04-18T00:01:00.016-04:00

TALK TO ME

A New Loose Id Release

by Cassandra Carr

Blurb:

Radio producer Jamie MacMahon is in over her head with ex-hockey player-turned host Drew Milan. She’s attracted to the man who earned the nickname “the Beast” during his playing days from the moment they meet, but he’s her boss and she loves her new job. She’s made plenty of mistakes with men and loathes the thought of being yet another plaything for Drew, a man who sleeps with women but doesn’t date them.

Drew doesn’t want to lose a great producer and knows Jamie deserves a real relationship, but can’t stay away from the sizzling chemistry they create every time they’re together. Jamie’s insecurities and the very real prospect of having to leave a great job if this thing doesn’t work out, coupled with Drew’s fears about opening his heart and the possibility of losing his first competent producer clash.

Excerpt:

The elevator doors opened, and Drew hurried to unlock his apartment and punch his code into the security pad before continuing straight to his bedroom. He spun and picked Jamie up as she neared the door, and she let out a squeak of protest.

“Drew!”

“What? I’m trying to be romantic. Efficient too.” He grinned at her when she struggled to get out of his grip. The way she fought against him both amused and aroused him. “Not so fast,” he warned her. “I’m not planning to let you get away until I’m good and finished with you.”

Jamie cocked an eyebrow. “Good and finished? Be still my heart! Such dreamy talk from a man like you! I had no idea.”

Drew laughed and dropped Jamie on the king-size bed with enough force to make her bounce, then climbed on top of her. Before she could protest again, he’d pressed his erection into her belly and taken her lips in another deep kiss. Jamie melted beneath him, snaking her hands around his neck while his found her hips, pulling her closer. “You need to get naked,” he declared, rolling off her.

“Just me? That’s hardly fair. If I’m getting naked, then this time, so are you.” Her beautiful, full lips pouted at him.

He stood up, and in seconds, his pants and boxer briefs landed in a heap on the floor. He pulled his shirt over his head and added it to the pile. “Your turn.”

Jamie rose up on her elbows and stared at him in disbelief. “How did you do that so fast? And may I add, very nice.” She smiled and waggled her eyebrows, giving him a quick once-over.

“When I want something, I don’t waste time. And I want you naked. Now.”
He reached over and started yanking her top over her head, but she batted his hands away.

“Hey -- stop that. You’re going to dislocate my shoulder with your beastlike strength.”

Drew laughed but allowed Jamie to gently pull her blouse over her head. He took it and tossed it on the chair near the window. Next she tugged her jeans off, leaving her in only her bra and panties, which Drew made short work of.

He groaned when she was fully nude. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous, you know that? And I’m gonna put my hands and my tongue and my mouth and my cock everywhere on and in your beautiful body, so you better be ready.”

Jamie shivered, and he covered her body with his, kissing her briefly before moving down her jawline, sucking and licking. This is gonna be good.

BIO:

Cassandra Carr lives in Western New York with her husband, Inspiration, and her daughter, Too Cute for Words. When not writing she enjoys watching hockey and hanging out on Twitter. Her debut novel, Talk to Me, was released by Loose Id on March 22, 2011. For more information about Cassandra, check out her website at http://www.booksbycassandracarr.com, "like" her Facebook fan page at http://www.facebook.com/AuthorCassandraCar or follow her on Twitter at http://www.twitter.com/Cassandra_Carr.

BUY LINK: http://www.loose-id.com/Talk-to-Me.aspx

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-04-17T00:01:00.004-04:00

Welcome to Six Sentence Sunday! This week I am posting a random six sentences of my best-selling, interracial menage, DOUBLE DARE, available in ebook here at Loose Id, in paperback here, or for your Kindle here.

His hair was loose this morning, framing his face. It was long enough to brush past his shoulders.

Had she said she hated long hair? Oh, she'd have to rethink that one, for sure.

His chest was dark and lightly covered with hair from his well-sculpted pecs down his abs—oh God, he actually had abs—and disappeared into the front of his jeans. Visible veins popped out from his biceps, since the muscles were so distinct. And the tattoos…

Check out some of my other fellow authors' Six Sentence Sunday!

Interview with Author Cassandra Carr

2011-04-15T17:46:00.000-04:00

Please welcome fellow Loose Id author, Cassandra Carr, who has a new release: Talk to Me. Stop back on Monday for a sneak peek!

• Tell me a little bit about yourself.

I’ve been writing romance seriously since 2008. I know I’m incredibly lucky to be where I am today this early in the game, but in some ways I’ve been preparing for it my whole life. I’ve been writing since I was a kid in various forms, whether it be business writing, non-fiction – whatever.

Besides being a writer I’m mom to a two-year-old daughter and have a loving, supportive spouse who told me to stay home and write. How great is that?

• Do you use a pseudonym and if so, why?

I do, yes. I have a very unusual last name (I can tell all your fingers are itching to go try to find out my real name) and I didn’t want to use it. I also didn’t want my husband’s family – they’re Italian and Catholic – to be embarrassed by the nature of my writing.

• What genre do you write in? Why did you pick that genre?

I write erotic romance. I’ve also written some non-erotic contemporary romance, but I like erotic romance better for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is because I’m good at it (I think).

• How would you describe your writing style? Plotter or pantser? Why?

I’m a pantser. As an example, I’m about to start writing a brand-new series. For book one, I have a one-page plot summary and yet I feel perfectly prepared to write. Oh, I have a four-sentence hook too! Totally fine to write 80,000 words. No problem!

• What is your favorite genre to READ?

I read a lot of erotic romance, but I also like contemporary and historical romance. Lisa Kleypas is one of my favorite authors. I also love Jennifer Crusie, especially in the books where she and Bob Mayer collaborated.

• Do you have a specific place where you like to write? When, during the day, is your most creative time?

I write on the couch in my living room on a laptop, or sometimes at a coffee shop if I can get away from my daughter for a few hours. My most creative time is whenever I have time to write, unfortunately. Staying home with my daughter takes up a lot of my free time, so I do the best I can.

• What’s your typical writing day?

Most of my writing gets done between 8pm and 2am, once my daughter goes to bed. I don’t really have rituals or anything fancy – I sit down and write.

• Do you have critique partners or beta readers? Why?

I have both. My critique partners are other erotic romance authors – I think they give me the best technical feedback. My beta readers are just normal romance readers, and I ask them for more general information – did you like the characters? Was the tone consistent? Did anything bug you?

• Who give you the most support along in your writing?

My mom and my husband. My mother is also a writer – she writes womens’ fiction, so she’s always encouraged my writing. And I’ll tell a quick story about my husband. When Talk to Me was out on submittal but not yet sold a job in my field of expertise opened up at a company I used to work for. I asked him if he wanted me to pursue it and he said, “No, I want you to stay home and write. It makes you happy.” I love that man!

• Do you have another job (besides writing)? If so, what do you do?

Not an “Evil Day Job” – not anymore, anyway. I do teach other authors about marketing and branding, and of course, I’m a stay-at-home mother which is a job by itself!

• What’s your take on the future of ebooks and epublishing?

I think ebooks are going to continue to become more popular, led, of course, by the forward-thinking readers of romance! I don’t think they’ll ever totally take over, but they’ll be a viable entity for the foreseeable future.

• What’s your favorite food?

Oh man, I love food so this is a toughie. I’d say I have a couple of favorite foods of different types – ice cream, pizza, and sushi are all favorites of mine.

• What’s your favorite movie? Why?

Another tough question Much like with my food, I like different movies for different reasons. Some of my faves are the Harry Potter films, Clue, and Dazed and Confused.

• Tell me about your latest or upcoming release?

My release, which is my debut novel, is called Talk to Me. It’s a contemporary m/f erotic romance published by Loose Id on March 22, 2011. It’s about a man named Drew, an ex-hockey player turned sports talk radio show host, and Jamie, his new producer. Drew seduces Jamie with his voice, and after he catches her in a compromising position, mayhem and hilarity ensue.

• What’s your next project?

My next project is a trilogy of books with bull rider heroes. The first is currently out on submission. My next work-in-progress is another series – this one featuring heroes that are geeks. I love geeks!

• Where can readers find you on the web?

My website can be reached at http://www.booksbycassandracarr.com/. I’m also on Twitter at http://www.twitter.com/Cassandra_Carr and Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/authorcassandracarr.

WTF Wednesday

2011-04-13T00:01:00.005-04:00

Look at those at the knees tan line. Oh, you're not looking at that?

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-04-10T00:01:00.007-04:00

The warm wetness combined with the rough texture of his tongue once again almost drove her over the edge. She dug her fingers into his hair and kept him there while he sucked one then the other into his mouth. Softly nipping, then kissing where his teeth had just been. She released a low, drawn-out moan.

This was torture. But torture never felt this good.

Check out some of my other fellow authors' Six Sentence Sunday!

BANGED UP ~ Audiobook coming APRIL 26th!

2011-04-09T13:46:00.001-04:00

AUDIO VERSION COMING SOON! April 26th

My best-selling contemporary erotic romance, BANGED UP, will be released in audiobook version! http://www.audiominx.com/

Blurb:

Two scarred souls: one physically, one mentally. Both on the mend, hiding from their pasts…

Mace Walker can’t wait to get home.

Being buried deep undercover for the past two years, on the most complex case of his career, has torn him down physically and mentally. Now the FBI agent has come home to recover after having his leg badly injured from a gunshot wound. Arriving home late one night, his relief is short-lived as he’s faced with a stranger pointing a gun to his head, acting like he is the one who doesn’t belong there!

Colby Parks, a biochemist at the local university, had come to town a year earlier to escape an abusive relationship. She vows never to put herself in that situation again.

Then the perfect opportunity comes along: house-sitting for Mace’s sister while making the house she purchased habitable. But she couldn’t anticipate this big snag: the one wearing the tight Levi’s and worn leather jacket, looking like he had just escaped prison.

Being forced to share a house creates sparks between them in more ways than one. However, things take a turn when their pasts catch up to them, threatening to pull them apart forever.

Banged Up will still be available in e-book at Liquid Silver Books: www.liquidsilverbooks.com/books/bangedup.htm

And for your Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Banged-Up-ebook/dp/B002X78TZQ

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Home.

Relief flooded over Mace Walker as he twisted the key in the lock, gave the front door a shove, and stepped over the threshold. Finally home. About time.

Time to heal.

The foyer was dark, but he didn’t need to hit the light switch. Even being gone for as long as he had been, he still knew the house well enough. He made his way to the stairs and set down his bags. Those two small duffels didn’t hold much evidence of his life for the past couple of years. Just some toiletries and a few basic items of clothing.

As he straightened, the foyer lit up, blinding him for a second. He blinked when a young voice rang out from the top of the steps. “Hold it right there! Put your arms up and back away from the stairs.”

What the fuck?

Mace had expected to see his sister bounding down the stairway of his two-story colonial, excited after not seeing her brother for the past two years. Actually, more like one year, eleven months and fifteen days. Not that he was counting. But instead, he stared up into the deadly eye of a Glock. And from his viewpoint it looked like a model 23, a .40 caliber. A compact but still a decent sized gun in a very small, very uneasy hand. Instantly, the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Damn. He’d dealt with crime bosses and their flunkies--from drug to porno rings--and had managed to survive. Now he was going to be killed by some measly punk he surprised while burglarizing his house? The cruel irony made him want to laugh. Instead, he did as he was instructed. With caution, he raised his hands above his head before stepping back toward the middle of the foyer. He avoided standing directly under the light, trying to get a better view of the top of the steps. But he didn’t have much success; the upstairs hallway and the upper section of the stairway were hidden in shadows.

If he played his cards right, this little situation would be under his control in no time at all. He just had to keep the kid calm and make the skinny punk believe he was the one in command. From experience, Mace knew the Glock didn’t have a conventional safety. All the kid had to do was pull the trigger and pull it again and again until all the rounds in the clip emptied into Mace’s body. And from what he could see in the limited light, the kid’s fingers were twitching from nervousness.

Not a good sign.

Where had a young punk gotten an expensive handgun like that? It certainly hadn’t been in the house. And if it had been, it would have been locked up in the gun safe.

If only he could see the boy’s face. He needed to see the eyes. Without seeing his eyes, Mace couldn’t even begin to predict what the kid would do.

“Don’t you dare move or I’ll blow your face off!” The kid’s voice raised an octave, making him sound more and more like ... a girl.

Tension ran through Mace’s body as the person started down the steps. At first he could see bare toes, a slim calf, then another. His gaze flicked to the gun, before returning to the shapely naked thighs which couldn’t belong to a kid--no way. Especially not a boy. Those smooth legs definitely belonged to a woman--and he couldn’t wait to see the rest of her. So far, the view almost made it worth being held at gunpoint. Almost.

He was disappointed when an oversized T-shirt--shit, was that Marmaduke on it?--blocked his view of creamy flesh. His arms were tired, his leg throbbed painfully, and his patience was wearing thin. But he still wasn’t going to move, since he had no idea who this woman descending the stairs was. His curiosity piqued when she stepped down into the light, which highlighted her long, curly red hair and made her wide, green--glaring--eyes sparkle and snap.

A twitch shot through his lower stomach and landed in his groin. Fear or pain didn’t make him suck in his breath. It was her unrestricted breasts bobbing under the cotton shirt with each step she took. Her nipples stood out like two beacons under the worn cotton. Jesus.

He had to clear his throat twice before he could ask her, “Are you robbing this house, dressed like that?”

5 diamonds at Got Erotic Romance!

"Banged Up is an action packed, erotic adventure that will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very last page. The sexual tension starts building as soon as Mace and Colby lay eyes on one another, and their relationship just gets hotter and hotter until their passion explodes. The dialog is fast paced and evocative, leading their relationship along at a fast pace. There’s humor, drama, tragedy, and some really hot sex. This book has something for everyone and will keep you guessing about the ending right up to the last page. I couldn’t put it away and I plan to read it again. I definitely give this book 5 Heats and recommend you read it as soon as possible."

4.5 hearts at The Romance Studio!

"Ms. Jeanne St. James has written a great book full of explicit sexuality and overloaded with suspense. There was more than one problem facing these main characters and St. James has integrated the storyline into love/hate/fear in such a way that it was impossible to put down. These two people were both full of past problems which continued to invade their presents and futures. Again, the author has presented the conflicts, as well as the sexual exploitations, in a great way.

There were other characters that made the story complete. They enhanced the plot and kept the story fast-paced and interesting. The actions, both sexual as well as the suspense-filled pursuits were fascinating. This book is definitely not for the faint of heart. I recommend that you read this book. You will enjoy it, I’m sure."

4 blue ribbons at Romance Junkies!

"Jeanne St. James has written an exceptional high action drama. From page one you will be captured by BANGED UP. The dialogue is superbly written and the plot allows you to be kept on the edge of your seat. For those seeking an action packed thriller, I highly recommend to add this title to your must read list."

4 whips at Bella's Erotic Reviews!

"Jeanne St. James writes an exciting action packed romance drawing the reader in from page one and never letting go. I was hooked from the first page of this story. I loved Colby and her fierceness and how she overcame all that was done to her and of course Mace the brooding Alpha Male was a great character to. Even with all his macho pride he still had his doubts and insecurities. The bond that formed between these two was a beautiful thing to read. Both Mace and Colby must learn to trust each other before time runs out and it is too late. Full of action and hot romance Banged Up is a page-turner that is not to be missed."

4 heart review at Night Owl Romance Book Reviews!

"Banged up is an entertaining read..." "... an enjoyable story."

WTF Wednesday

2011-04-06T00:01:00.008-04:00

Yeah, kid. Me, too. Get in line.

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-04-03T00:01:00.002-04:00

She pressed the cold drink against her forehead in an attempt to cool herself off.

She needed to go change her panties, she was so freaking wet.

She could feel his heat next to her; his body was like a furnace. She wanted to plant her hands on his chest and feel how hot he really was. Her fingers convulsed around her glass.

“Are you okay?” The deep timbre of his voice sent a shot of lightning down her body, landing right in her pussy.

Check out some of my other fellow authors' Six Sentence Sunday!

JUSTICE FOR PATRICK AND ALL ABUSED PETS EVERYWHERE!

2011-03-29T20:14:00.000-04:00

I am temporarily hijacking my own blog… for a good cause, of course. I love animals, and most of you do, too. I’ve had dogs most of my life and a year ago rescued a deaf French bulldog, who we named Iggy. He’s a handful but I love him anyhow and it mystifies me why anyone would have given him up, unless he was no longer “convenient.”

Just the thought of a dog not being “convenient” or becoming too much “work” is not a good excuse to abuse your pet -- the pet that relies on you every day to take care of him or her -- at least for basics like food, water, exercise… And then it would be nice if they also got love and attention. We all want that. Not just our pets.

My reason for this post is this: recently, a grass roots movement started for Patrick’s Law. Read more about it here: http://www.patrickslaw.com/

If you don't know about Patrick, the miracle pit bull, here was the tragic start of his journey to a better life! http://www.ahscares.org/showarchive.asp?id=772

This is Patrick, named for St. Patrick's Day, since he was found on March 16th

http://www.ohmidog.com/2011/03/26/owner-of-dog-that-was-dumped-down-trash-chute-charged-with-neglect-abandonment/

WARNING, his story is heartbreaking and will most likely make you angry. It’s hard to believe that humans can be this cruel.

Please “like” the Patrick’s Law page on Facebook also: www.facebook.com/PatricksLawNow

If you Twitter: www.twitter.com/patrickslaw

If you would like to read daily updates on Patrick go here: http://www.ahscares.org/showarchive.asp?id=784

So what can YOU do? It’s simple: spread the word! The more people involved in this movement the better chance laws like this will be passed. Many of us have blogs, have Twitter accounts, MySpace and Facebook pages.

Want to do more? Foster, adopt, donate to an animal rescue, a humane society, etc., or volunteer your time to your local shelter or your favorite breed’s rescue group. There are plenty of little things you can do. And whether you think your “little” effort makes a difference, IT DOES, all the “little things” add up!

It’s past time to make sure animal abusers, like Patrick's, are held responsible and that the punishment fits the crime!

JUSTICE FOR PATRICK

AND ALL ABUSED PETS EVERYWHERE!

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-03-27T00:01:00.002-04:00

Welcome to Six Sentence Sunday! This week I am posting a random six sentence portion of my best-selling, m/m short story, RIP CORD, available here at Phaze Books.

Rip turned Gil to face him. He laid a wet kiss on Gil’s lips before moving away to soap up himself, washing his hair and rinsing off the suds. With a twist of his hand, he turned the water off. They stood studying each other quietly, their bodies glistening with dampness.

Gil reached out, his finger catching a bead of water as it ran over Rip’s bulging pec. “You’re amazing. I could just dry you off with my tongue.”

Check out some of my other fellow authors' Six Sentence Sunday!

WTF Wednesday

2011-03-23T00:01:00.005-04:00

I give them two snaps for creativity. Grocery shopping when you only own a crotch rocket. GENIUS!

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-03-20T00:01:00.006-04:00

She glanced quickly to the opening of the booth. Anyone could pass by at any moment. "Mace, someone is going to see us."

"Maybe."

She should be embarrassed at the thought of being caught as Mace pinned her against the wall and thrust against her. But she wasn't.

Check out some of my other fellow authors' Six Sentence Sunday!

WTF Wednesday

2011-03-16T00:01:00.005-04:00

I sure hope these were Halloween costumes... Even though the picture was dated 11 days BEFORE Halloween.

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-03-13T00:01:00.001-05:00

Welcome to Six Sentence Sunday! This week I am posting a random six sentence portion of my best-selling, m/m short story, RIP CORD, available here at Phaze Books.

Rip possessed him fiercely. His tongue demanded access to the deep recesses of Gil’s mouth. Gil tentatively pushed back with his own tongue. Rip took it as a challenge, his fingers tightening on his cheeks, turning his face for better contact. His kiss became rougher, harsher, more frantic, causing Gil to groan into Rip’s mouth.

As much as he wanted to move his hands from the tiles, to take Rip into his embrace, he didn’t dare move. He stayed in that submissive position—leaning against his arms, giving his ass to Rip while the man kissed him—for a reason.

Check out some of my other fellow authors' Six Sentence Sunday!

WTF Wednesday

2011-03-09T00:01:00.005-05:00

Look! FOUR potential SERIOUS buyers! One size fits all!

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-03-06T00:01:00.007-05:00

Welcome to Six Sentence Sunday! This week I am posting a random six (eight! Shhhh!) sentences of my best-selling, interracial menage, DOUBLE DARE, available in ebook here at Loose Id, in paperback here, or for your Kindle here.

His hands were large. They were working hands. They weren't soft and pampered. But calloused and thick and strong.

Capable. Capable of doing all kinds of things.

Quinn's nipples hardened under the scratchy taffeta.

His hands could do all kinds of dirty, nasty things.

Check out some of my other fellow authors' Six Sentence Sunday!

What makes a man sexy? by Simone Eden

2011-03-04T00:01:00.002-05:00

At the heart of every good romance story is a sexy hero. An instant's recall will most likely have you snuggling into visions of your favorite men. You can probably describe what color his hair is, his best facial features, the sound of his voice, his physique. In fact you probably have several hottie heroes in mind. Maybe there's even some real life lover who may share some of those qualities.

But have you ever analyzed just what it is that makes a man hot? True, we all have different opinions. What turns one woman on may make another one recoil. Today I'm exploring some of the traits that most would agree make a man hot.

• Looks. No, I don't think that's terribly shallow. Looks may not be the most important thing, but it's certainly what we notice first. His features are pleasantly regular and unblemished. He obviously takes care of himself with grooming and health awareness. Stained teeth and dirty hair aren't attractive. On the other hand, bald can be just as sexy as a sleek shining mane of hair. And he doesn't have to be a demi-god either. There are some quirks that can be better called cute than gorgeous. Some ladies love those big ears on Will Smith!

• Body. Well, of course, I had to bring it up. I think it goes back to the personal care issue. We aren't attracted to someone who obviously spends his days and nights in front of a television scarfing down fast food and beers. We like a man who looks like he can hold his own. Since the dawn of time, women need a mate who can protect them and their young. So he should have enough muscles so you can visualize him building a house and working up a good sweat. But not breathing too heavily.

• Intelligence. See, I'm not totally one-dimensional. Dumb guys just don't turn me on. A sexy man has interests that fascinate him and people respect his opinion. He may be a brilliant scientist or shrewd detective. He could be a cool executive, successful entrepreneur, or serious scholar. A respected warrior/hunter. This brings up the topic of wealth. Wealth is not a prerequisite for sexiness, in my opinion, but it does signify a man in control of himself and his world. And that's what intelligence is all about.

• Emotional strength. We often debate the qualities of alpha guys versus beta guys. Actually women just want a man who knows what he wants, is willing to get it… and he cares about what his woman thinks and wants too. He cares enough about their relationship to take what may seem like extreme measures. But remember, macho is not the same as jerk!

• Sense of humor. Whether a dry wit or wackiness, or just a sly poke now and then, he should be able to laugh at himself and at life. Even the dark, tortured heroes have to be able to smile now and then, especially when he's with his woman.

• Confidence. The sexy man is confident in his own skin. He doesn't have to have the name brand clothing, or the biggest penis, or the best body. He knows he has what it takes to fill his needs--and hers.

• Honesty. Yup. We have to be able to trust him. He may have made mistakes in the past, but now he is all about being real. He doesn't necessarily care about what others think of him, but they do instinctively know he can be depended on.

• Willingness to learn. He may be flawed to the point of crazy at the beginning of the book, but he's got to have the honesty and strength to look within himself and make a needed change.

• Articulacy. Do you really want a man who can't contribute anything to a conversation but grunts and smiles? Even dazzling smiles. He needn't have the eloquence of a Dr. Martin Luther King but he should be able to express his thoughts without a string of 'you know's' and 'like's' and clichés. He should be able to melt his woman's core with a heart-felt phrase.

• Devotion. This is probably the most important characteristic of a sexy man to me. Call it commitment, love, enthusiasm, faithfulness. He is happy when he's with you.

There is no single answer, or even list, that is right for everyone. But authors have to present heroes to die for in each and every book to keep their readers coming back.

Simone Eden's If You Think I'm Sexy blog tour, March 2011. To enter my contest, leave a comment below about what you find most sexy about a man. Go to website http://www.simoneeden.blogspot.com/ to find a list of other stops on the tour and visit them and leave comments as well. The more blogs you visit and comment on the more chances to win. All names from the blog tour will be entered in a drawing for a $20 Amazon.com gift card at the end of March 2011.

* * * * *

Author's Bio: Simone Eden became addicted to reading around age eight when her teacher read aloud Charlotte's Web to the class. She began writing her own novels in high school. She is a mother, wife and grandmother, has lived for more than half a century, and held many jobs. But her great passion is writing. She feels that she is blessed --and sometimes cursed-- to have found something she loves to do. Readers don't always understand that writing is an urge that can sometimes be frustrating. In her stories Simone loves to explore sensuality and spirituality but never knows what strange settings or characters will be involved

Website http://www.simoneeden.blogspot.com/
Email: simone_eden@yahoo.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/simoneedenbooks

* * * * *

Here's a brief excerpt from my current book Spell of the Cat. You be the judge of how sexy shape-shifter Keth is.

The shape-shifting cat-like creatures called Baashi have hidden from humans for eons. Jenna, a computer specialist at a laboratory where the Baashi are being experimented on, has begun to despise what is happening to the mysterious creatures. Keth, a male of the Baashi, returns from a journey to find his pack being captured and disappearing into a lab. He'll do anything to get inside that lab and rescue his people. Jenna and Keth are bound together in a series of mind-shattering encounters. But in order to be together, one of them will have to betray their own kind.

Golden yellow eyes blinked at her, then closed as it laid its head back down, a purr rumbling from its body. The aides at the lab called the animals were-cats instead of the official scientific name created by Dr. Phillips. Gazing into this animal's golden eyes, she could believe it.

Jenna shrugged her perplexity away. She'd done all she could at this point. Its breathing sounded more regular and it seemed to be sleeping naturally now.

She carried the animal to the couch in the nearby living room space and threw a light blanket over it.

"You are magnificent," she murmured. She dug her hands into the soft fur and stroked her hands up and down its ribs. She could now tell that the animal's fur wasn't a monotone color, but a luxurious mottled blend of warm browns, golds, and black. The cat stretched and nuzzled against her. In helpless fascination, Jenna allowed it to make itself comfortable.

She'd been impressed by the cats at the lab, but this one made her blood rush through her body with wonder. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off it or keep her hands out of its fur. She felt, rather than heard, the deep rumble in its chest.

Jenna continued to stroke the cat on her lap, watching the TV show. Snowball gave them both a jealous sniff and stalked off with her nose in the air.

The program barely registered in her mind as a warm buzz spread throughout her being, making her more and more sleepy. Finally she eased from beneath the cat, went into her bedroom and closed the door.

* * * *

Keth snapped awake. A tiny house cat was snuggled up against him. When he moved, it sneezed delicately and scooted closer. Keth eased himself away. A pain reminded him of his predicament and the night's events. He stretched his body while absorbing the sensual awareness from the nearby human woman. The woman with her strong, beautiful spirit.

Being with her had started to heal him. His bones were stitching back together; the pain lessening. His friends had brought him to this house because of the powerful healing he needed. Since ancient times, energy had flowed between Baashi and humans in a therapeutic symbiosis, benefiting both. The Baashi had once been viewed as gods but when humans began to try to control and exploit the power, the Baashi went into hiding, roaming the earth in small feral packs.

A pulse on the side of his head teased Keth with the woman's nearness. The bond between them was already woven thick. His inner mys itched to join with her. Leaping to his feet, Keth concentrated on transforming. A knot of pain protested the exertion of his power but he focused harder. With sparkling and crackling, his body wrenched into man form and he stood upright, naked, shaking long dark hair back from his eyes. The woman's house cat backed away from him, hissing and flicking its tail in antagonism. Keth ignored it.

Scratches marred his muscular legs, a bruise discolored the golden skin over his ribs. He ran one hand through his hair. He still had a headache, but he felt much better than when he arrived here. He looked towards the woman's door.

One more exchange with her should finish his healing. On bare feet, air caressing his naked skin, he padded across the living room. But when he reached for the doorknob, the little cat sprang out and sank its teeth into his toe. Keth cursed, his leg reflexively kicking out. The animal tumbled across the floor and righted itself at once, hissing and arching its back. Keth hissed a warning of his own. The cat backed down and Keth turned the knob on the door.

There was no sound within the room as he eased the door open. Keth slipped inside and shut the door behind him, leaning back against it. The woman on the bed lay in a deep sleep due to the enspelling nature of the mys bond he'd cast between them. A stream of light from the slightly opened bathroom door flowed over her honey-caramel skin. She was an exquisite dessert laid out for him. Her hair was hidden by a cranberry colored wrap, which suited her skin tone, but he knew rich mahogany waves of hair fell past her shoulders. Dark lashes swept her cheeks and rosy lips were parted. The unconscious sensuality of the scene warmed his core and caused his erection to thicken and rise further. He hungered for the most direct connection, physical joining.

She was ripe. He knew from the energy pulsing between them that she was a good match for him, capable of direct connection with her inner core. Anticipation forced his cock harder, higher.

Keth sucked in his breath. The woman's aura drew him across the room. The mys leapt out wrapping around both of them, knitting their energy together. He stopped beside the bed, holding his breath. He was so shaken that it was an effort to keep her shielded from awareness of him.

Restlessness touched the woman, her weight shifting on the bed. He slid between the sheets with her. She jerked with a slight moan as if getting away from him.

"Shhhh," he hushed her, stroking her face, pushing her deeper into a dream-like state where he could merge his energy with hers.

She melted against his body and he breathed in the scent of her, a heady concoction of flowery body wash and woman. Their spirits melded into one. His eagerness hitched to an even higher level.

His head pounded as the spell of the mys wrapped them in a cocoon. Perhaps it was because of his injuries, perhaps because it had been so long since he'd made love, but he had never felt so drawn to any woman before.

Enthralled, he brushed his face along her cheek and down her neck, his other hand tracing her nipple through the thin fabric of a night shirt. The tip seemed to leap up into his palm.

He dragged her against him, kissed her, pushed her legs apart, then slid his fingers into the hot softness between her legs. She was so ripe he had no trouble pushing in to the last knuckle.

"Oh!" Her mouth pursed. Squirming, she tried to press her legs together.

He stroked her inner nub for the pleasure of hearing her moan. Her legs fell open again, her slit overflowed with cream. Oh, yes, she was ready.

No amount of mental exertion on his part could make her respond like this otherwise. His power surged as the passion between them swelled. Throwing her legs wide, she ground herself down...

Thursday Thirteen: 13 Reasons NOT To Party with Your Friends

2011-03-03T00:01:00.011-05:00

13 REASONS NOT TO PARTY WITH YOUR FRIENDS:

Or at least don't pass out first!

Thanks After 12 for these reminders on why you can't trust your friends!

WTF Wednesday

2011-03-02T00:01:00.003-05:00

Nothing like partying with your GOOD friends... Just don't pass out...

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-02-27T00:01:00.003-05:00

Welcome to Six Sentence Sunday! This week I am posting a random six sentence portion of my best-selling, m/m short story, RIP CORD, available here at Phaze Books.

When did he get naked?

Rip was like a sculpture, his body toned, his muscles distinct under his tanned skin. A fine sheen of sweat glistened those rock hard muscles. His cock was just as hard as Gil’s. Rip had his hand wrapped around his own shaft, stroking much slower than Gil. It was a lazy, slow motion, almost a preparation of sorts.

Check out some of my other fellow authors' Six Sentence Sunday!

New Release by guest Dawne Prochilo: SEX SELLS: ARE YOU BUYING

2011-02-26T00:01:00.017-05:00

Erotic romance author and online sex advice journalist Dawne Prochilo released a self-published book, Sex Sells: Are You Buying on Feb 20. The ebook is a compilation of online relationship articles Dawne wrote for various men's websites.

Sex Sells: Are You Buying is available on smashwords.

Novels by Dawne Prochilo
Available at International Agora and Amazon
Crape Myrtle July 2009
On Her Own July 2009

Available at Secret Cravings Publishing, Amazon and Barnes & Noble
Room 11
Rachel's Desire
When We Meet Again

Tales from the Slush Pile

2011-02-25T00:01:00.035-05:00

By guest blogger Misty Malone

So how many of you know that when an author sends a query letter off to an agent or editor, sometimes the agent/editor never even sees it? And no, I’m not talking about Postal Service fail or the vacuum of cyberspace eating a lost email. These days, many houses and agencies have gotten so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of unsolicited query letters they receive, they’ve had no choice but to ask for help. Enter: other published authors.

For the last year, I’ve been lucky enough to offer my services as one of these Slush Pile Readers for an agency in New York, and let me tell you, it’s been a wakeup call. The sheer amount of rookie mistakes—that every author can avoid just by doing a little, tiny bit of homework—makes me want to spork some people.

But don’t worry! I’m going to give you a short list of just some of the mistakes that make slush readers like me mark your letter for the Rejection pile within the first thirty seconds. And for the non-writers out there, think of this as a sneak peek into the world your favorite authors came from, emerging from the slush like Nessie from the Loch.

1) “Dear Sir/Madam”

Okay, really guys? It doesn’t take much to surf the ‘net for the proper names (and properly spelled names) of the agents/editors you’re submitting your work to. If you want them to give your query the proper respect and consideration it deserves, show them the same courtesy and address your queries properly. Ditto for avoiding slang-y greetings and anything overly informal: things like kthxbye, omg, l8r, ;-) , and ‘sup should appear nowhere near your query letter.

2) Get to the Point

Truth is, agents/editors don’t really what inspired you to write this book. They don’t care if your cat, mother, neighbor, or the brain-eating zombie in your dreams told you to write it. The purpose of a query is to sell your product; i.e., tell the buyer (otherwise known as the agent/editor) exactly what the book is about in three paragraphs or less. Leave the other stuff for the book tour and interviews.

3) Avoid the Squick Factor

I have seen tons of queries that try to catch attention by being overly graphic, disturbing, or flat-out gross. This includes any mention of bodily functions, graphically described X-rated acts, or human/animal torture. Don’t laugh—I’ve seen it done. Even if you write horror, just give the agent/editor a brief (five sentences or less) summary of the main plotline and a reason to care about your characters. Save the gore for the actual manuscript.

4) Be Professional

Remember when I mentioned your query should be professional? Well, beyond addressing it to the right person, you want to make sure it’s in an easy-to-read, business-style font (such as 10 or 12 pt Arial or Times New Roman). For e-queries, delete the hyperlinks and pretty font colors. Always double-check that your correct contact information appears somewhere on the query (near the bottom is usually preferred). In case you’d been considering it, queries written in crayon, Wingdings, or alpha-numeric code will be automatically rejected. Proper punctuation is a plus. While you probably won’t get slushed for missing a comma or two, not using a single capital letter or period will make query readers like me want to shove a Strunk and White’s down your throat.

5) What Not to Say

• Please, for the love of Barnes and Nobles, in your queries avoid using phrases such as:
o “I don’t know what genre to call this.”
o “I know your submissions guidelines say not to do this, but I’m going to do it anyway because I’m just that spechul.”
o “This book has no beginning, middle, or end.”
o “You may call this experimental fiction.”
o “I’m a great writer, but need you to tell me if this story idea is any good before I waste more time on it.”
o “So let me tell you about my super, awesome, guaranteed-to-earn-a-gajillion-dollars future New York Times Bestseller. I’m about 5,000 words into the first chapter but can totally tell you who should be cast when they make it into a movie.”
o “Manifesto”
(And nope, I’m not making those up, folks. I really, really, really wish I was.)

Though specific guidelines vary between houses and agencies, it’s the writer’s responsibility to find out what those differences are and tailor their queries appropriately. Unless you’re planning to line your cat’s liter box with all those “Thanks, but no” rejection letters you’ll receive, take my advice and avoid becoming another casualty of the slush pile.

Check out Misty Malone's Phaze releases here:
http://www.king-cart.com/Phaze/product=Misty+Malone

Thursday Thirteen: 13 Awful Business Names

2011-02-24T00:01:00.014-05:00

13 AWFUL BUSINESS NAMES:

Thank you to PopHangover for these goodies!

At least SOMEONE is getting lucky!

Which is more dangerous: A woman with PMS
or a woman with a weapon? How about both?

I can't even figure out what kind of business this would be.

WTF Wednesday

2011-02-23T00:01:00.001-05:00

Brenda, please lock your doors and hide. Brenda Brenda Brenda Brenda Brenda Brenda!

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-02-20T00:01:00.004-05:00

She saved her drink before it could spill all over her ugly bridesmaid dress. Yeah, that would have been a shame: to ruin such a nice, frumpy, pukey pink taffeta dress. One the bride had said she would be able to wear in the future. Like to a cocktail party. Or maybe her own funeral. Yeah, right. No one in their right mind would want to get caught dead in this thing.

Ruining the dress wouldn't have been a loss, but losing her drink would have. She was drinking slammers for a reason—to get good and drunk.

Check out some of my other fellow authors' Six Sentence Sunday!

New Release: EVERYONE'S MAN by Edward Kendrick

2011-02-19T00:01:00.010-05:00

Blurb:

Colin Wilcox, a male whore who only takes clients of the same sex, is gang-raped while on the job. Needing medical attention he's taken the local ER and meets Dr. Rivers. Reoccurring flashbacks provide small images of his brutal rape and he’s forced by Detective Keyes to handle the emotional fallout of being victimized.

Detective Keyes, a rape victim himself, is assigned to solve the crime. When a second boy is gang-raped, he needs Colin‘s help to catch the perpetrators. He tries to use his own personal experience and attempts to help Colin understand he’s not to blame. A slow but sure friendship unfolds between the two men that turns into love, stunted by the traumatic event. With the perps in custody and Colin able to move forward, the next battle is underway. He must learn to lower the barrier that will allow him to let another in for mental and physical support. Only then will the two lovers be able to consummate their tender passion.

Excerpt:

Colin’s eyes widened when he saw the man standing there. “Damn and double damn,” he muttered under his breath.

Bill had to agree, although he wasn’t about to say so. If this was the detective, and the badge he was flashing said it was, he was definitely not fifty, nor fat. Quite the contrary. Bill figured he was in his mid-twenties, and obviously lean and muscular.

Keyes waited, a slight smile on his face. Finally, he broke the silence. “May I come in?”

“Sure, sorry. You weren’t quite what we were expecting.” Bill stepped aside to let him in. “I’m Bill Snider. The young man over there is Colin Wilcox.”

Keyes nodded as he crossed to look down at Colin. “Do you mind?” he asked, pointing at the empty space on the sofa.

Colin shrugged, watching him cautiously now.

Keyes sat and took out his notebook, flipping to a blank page. “I’d like to know what happened. You don’t have to go into details if that makes you uncomfortable. I just need to know how and why you ended up with those men.”

Worrying his lip, Colin glanced over at Bill. When he received a look of encouragement, he began telling the detective how he’d first met the man who had been instrumental in his rape.

“You never saw him before that evening?” Keyes asked.

“Nope. He was a new client, or at least new to me. We met in the room, he…” Colin swallowed hard. “I won’t do the S&M scene or bareback. A bit of light bondage is my limit. He wasn’t happy about that. He got angry, pulled a knife, I got cut, and got the hell out of there before he had a chance to do anything more.”

“He came with a knife. That’s interesting.”

“Interesting?” Colin chuckled morosely. “More than interesting I’d say.”,

* * * * *

“Can I ask a question, Detective Keyes?”

“Of course, and call me Dane.”

“Okay, Dane.” Colin smiled shyly at him for a second before getting back to what he wanted to know. “This kid they killed, was he in the business too?”

“At the moment, we’re not certain. We’re still trying to locate family or friends to find out more about him.”

“If he’s a whore like me, you might be shit out of luck,” Colin told him.

Keyes winced a bit at Colin’s bluntly calling himself a whore. That elicited a tight smile from the young man.

“That’s what I am, Dane. Why sugarcoat it?”

BUY LINK

Interview with Edward Kendrick, romance author

2011-02-18T00:01:00.004-05:00

Please welcome author Edward Kenrick, who has a NEW release tomorrow with Silver Publishing, titled Everyone's Man!

• When did you get started writing and what motivated you to write?

I started about four years ago after joining a fanfic group. I decided to try my hand at it and was surprised to find that people liked what I wrote.

• What genres do you write in and why?

I write primarily male/male because I like the interaction and, honestly, the lack of the ‘gushy’ factor people expect of male/female pairings; although I have done a couple of those and some M/M/F as well. I deal in contemporary setting and have humans, vampires and shifters.

All of, or the majority of my stories, have a mystery of some sort as part of the plot line. I’ve done cops, private-eyes, and just people drawn into trouble and having to solve the crime to get out of it.

• What do you have published and where?

My first book, ‘Everyone’s Man’, is due out on Feb. 19th from Silver Publishing.
http://silverpublishing.info/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/everyone-s-man-p-185

• Tell me about some of your WIPs?

I’m just finishing a vampire/shifter, M/M story I call ‘Lies and Misunderstandings’. I think that one will lead into a new one about one of the sub-characters from it.

I have many more that I’m thinking about submitting; a trio of urban fantasy ones, a couple with characters who are in the theater, and blah, blah, blah. –grinning-

• Where can we find you on the Internet?

http://edwardkendrick.blogspot.com/
http://edwardkendrick.multiply.com/
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4541493.Edward_Kendrick

• What do you like to read? Who are your favorite authors?

I tend towards mysteries, fantasy and horror. My favorite author at the moment is Dave Cullen because of his book, ‘Columbine’. Otherwise, I own almost all of Lackey’s ‘Valdemar’ series, I like Richard Kadrey, J.D.Robb, Brent Weeks, Koontz, some of Stephen King’s, anything by Neil Gaiman, the list goes on and on.

• How do people react when they find out your are an author?

There’s the ‘You are? You’re kidding’ factor, followed by, ‘You write WHAT?’.

• Do you like writing your hero or heroine better? Which POV do you prefer?

I prefer writing males, and in the third person.

• How long did it take you from when you started writing to being published? From first submitting to being published?

From when I first started writing, it took about four years give or take before I got up the nerve, with a lot of prodding from friends, to submit something, around August of last year. That one, my first, was accepted by the second publisher I sent it to.

• Are you a plotter (plots and outlines) or a pantzer (by-the-seat-of-your-pants writer)? Why?

I am definitely a pantzer. I get an idea for a story or a character and run with it. Plotting the story out is just not me other than to know, in some vague way, where I want it to end. And even then it doesn’t always go there.

• Is there a genre that you haven’t written that you would like to?

I wish I had the mind-set to create a fantasy world with all that involves but that’s just not how my mind works. Maybe someday, with lots of time on my hands, I’ll take a stab at it.

Readers, stop back tomorrow for the blurb and excerpt for EVERYONE'S MAN!

Thursday Thirteen: 13 FUNNY DOORSTOPS

2011-02-17T00:01:00.007-05:00

13 FUNNY DOORSTOPS:

WTF Wednesday

2011-02-16T00:01:00.003-05:00

Please. Don't EVER EVER EVER let this person have babies...

Interview with Author Misty Malone

2011-02-15T00:01:00.008-05:00

Please welcome fellow Phaze author, Misty Malone!

• Tell me a little bit about yourself.

Geez, where to start? Really, I’m just a glorified nerd. I love going to Renaissance fairs, canoeing, camping, curling up with good books. I also sing in a local chorus, and love travelling. I’ve actually been to all fifty states, and ten different countries, including Israel, Australia, and New Zealand. I get a lot of inspiration from the places I visit when I travel!

• Do you use a pseudonym and if so, why?

“Misty” is my pseudonym—I’m also a YA author, so I definitely want to keep these two aspects of my writing life separate.

• What genre do you write in? Why did you pick that genre?

I love to read genre fiction—fantasy, historical, soft scifi—so my writing interests tend to go along the same route. The short I have out with Ravenous Romance—The Hitcher and his Ride—is paranormal, and the first novel out with Phaze was a contemporary erotic romance—Dead Men Get No Tail. Also out with Phaze is an Arthurian-era historical, The Consort, and I’m currently working on an Urban Fantasy/Fairy Tale crossover for them.

• What inspires you to write the type of stories that you write?

I get a lot of inspiration from my dreams. I’ve always been a lucid dreamer, and am lucky enough to remember most of my dreams long enough to write down the interesting parts in a journal. Just recently, I woke from a dream and spent the next eight hours plotting the novel and writing the character notes!

• How would you describe your writing style? Plotter or pantser? Why?

I’m actually a recovering pantser! I used to just grab a concept and go, but then an editor wanted to see a series I was working on—the first two novels were completed, but the third only in concept form. The editor asked for a plot treatment for that third novel—basically an extended outline with all the major plot points laid out chapter-by-chapter.

After learning how to write a treatment, I’ve never gone back, as seeing my plot (and plot holes) laid out like that before I even begin Page One saves me tons of time and editing angst in the long run!

• What is your favorite genre to READ?

Probably a good ol’ fashioned high fantasy. Something about dragons and magic and elves and fairies has always tugged at my heart.

• Do you have a specific place where you like to write? When, during the day, is your most creative time?

My writing group meets in various coffeehouses around town, meaning I *have* to have noise now when I write! We meet twice during the week in the evenings, and then a few of us do all-day, twelve-hour marathons on Saturdays. It’s intense, but it’s such a great feeling of accomplishment when you see just how much you can produce when you sit down and get to work.

• What’s your typical writing day?

Not sure anything in my life can be called “typical!” Some days I’ll do some critiquing for my writing partners, some days I assist an agent friend of mine with going through her slush pile. And then there are the days when I’ll feel like tackling new content on my own books, or going back and editing those problem areas I’ve been trying to hide from.

• Do you have critique partners or beta readers? Why?

Yup, I definitely rely on my crit partners. By this point, they know me and my style fairly well, so they’re not afraid to tell me when I’ve made the characters do something stupid, or if I’ve dropped plotlines along the way. Their crits are invaluable to me because they see my world through the perspective of a reader, which is 100% different from that of the writer.

• Who give you the most support along in your writing?

My parents, no question. I’ve been writing since I was a young child (cliché, I know, but completely true), and they’ve always encouraged me to follow that passion, whether it was doing an internship at a local newspaper, trying out Journalism as a college major, and then not even batting an eye when I switched out to the Creative Writing school because it was much more fun to make up facts than be confined by true ones.

• Do you have another job (besides writing)? If so, what do you do?

Sure do! I’m afraid I can’t say much about what I do, but I can say that I work for a major theme park company. I’ve been here for a number of years, and really enjoy what I do and who I work with.

• What’s your take on the future of ebooks and epublishing?

Like all technology, once it’s out there, it’s going to get bigger and more widely accepted. Ebooks, ereaders, and epublishing won’t “destroy” modern publishing as it exists now, in my opinion, but enhance it. And isn’t the whole point of this business to get your work into the hands of readers? Personally, I care less about the media and methods readers use and more about the fact that I just want to tell a good story and entertain people.

• Do you have a favorite quote -- yours or someone famous or even infamous?

Oh, God, there’s so many that have inspired me over the years! But maybe my all time favorite is, “Love like you’ll never be hurt. Dance like there’s no one watching. Live like there’s no tomorrow.”

• What’s your favorite food?

Anything Chinese!

• What’s your favorite movie? Why?

Princess Bride. Why? Because it’s inconceivable not to!

• Do you have a favorite book or author?

There’re four that I just can choose between—Carlos Ruiz Zafon, J.R.R. Tolkien, Piers Anthony, and J.K. Rowling.

• Tell me about your latest or upcoming release?

This past fall, The Consort was released. It’s a triangle of historic proportions where love, lust, and murder sleep in the same bed. Rhys must steal the crown of Wales or face death at his father’s hands. But when Rhys loses his heart to the reluctant Welsh Prince Accolon, blood shall be spilt and a kingdom will fall if The Consort has his way.

• Do you have any releases scheduled for 2011?

Not just yet, but hopefully more to come on this front!

• What’s your next project?

I’m currently working on Spellbound—a street-savvy New Yorker who’s seen one too many bad relationships gets sucked into a fairytale world. But Bryce will have to find his own Happily Ever After when Grimm’s Grimmest try to force him away from the one man who might just be his very own Prince in Disguise.

• Where can readers find you on the web?

Come visit me at http://www.mistymalone.com/!

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-02-13T00:01:00.003-05:00

Welcome to Six Sentence Sunday! This week I am posting a random six sentence portion of my best-selling, m/m short story, RIP CORD, available here at Phaze Books.

“Boxers. Off. Now.”

Gil shivered, but obeyed, and with a yank had his boxers pooled at his feet, Rip never releasing him.

“That’s better.” He whistled, appreciatively. “Damn. Why is it geeks are always hung like horses?”

Check out some of my other fellow authors' Six Sentence Sunday!

New Release by guest Stacey Kennedy: Silent Howl

2011-02-12T00:01:00.020-05:00

SILENT HOWL
The Blue Bloods ~ Book Two (Liquid Silver Books)

When murder threatens innocent lives, will one woman unleash the wolf within her or hide behind the human that cowers in fear.

Rynn Murphy is a werewolf and she is in a state of bliss―her junkie parents are in recovery for their drug addiction. Her Grandfather, Pops, suffering from Alzheimer’s has settled into a nursing home in Utah. And she has just witnessed the bonding ceremony of her friends, Nexi and Kyden from the Otherworld. With her mate, Briggs by her side, life can’t get any better…

But this happiness is about to end as Rynn is brought to Philadelphia. As a Blue Blood Werewolf, she has been given a special gift to possess a strong scent. And after horrific murders take place in the Pennsylvania territory, Rynn must use this ability to seek the killer out…

This task does not come easily, Rynn is struggling. The human in her flees from danger. The wolf in her is desperate to end his murderous rampage. Rynn must reconcile these two halves while these murders begin to cross State lines. Soon, danger will be all around them, and Rynn will have to decide what is more important―the human who remains in her or the wolves she has sworn to protect…

BUY LINK - http://www.staceykennedy.com/books/blue-blood-series/silent-howl/

EXCERPT:

Chapter One

Twelve Steps by Narcotics Anonymous:

1. Admit we were powerless over drug abuse—that our lives had become unmanageable.
2. Come to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
3. Make a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.
4. Make a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
5. Admit to God, ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
6. Be entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed and be willing to make amends to them.
9. Make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. Continue to take personal inventory and when we are wrong promptly admit it.
11. Seek through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understand Him, pray only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and practice these principles in all our affairs.

Plymouth, Minnesota may have been voted America’s best place to live by Money Magazine, but Briggs would argue that point. It’s really a vague memory now. Such a short time ago, his mate had walked home from a long shift with sore feet and a deep ache to her back. What she hadn’t known at the time was that walk would change her life forever. Attacked, bitten and then transformed into a werewolf--it was of no surprise to him that she was still trying to adjust to the horrors of that night.

He looked to Rynn as she sat next him in a hard chair that was not made for comfort. Her long brown hair cradled her face as her deep silver eyes penetrated his soul. How he craved to reach out, touch her creamy skin, kiss those soft lips of hers. But when a chair shifted in front of him, the present situation drew him back to where they were and why they were here. Rynn’s parents, Warwick and Tarina Murphy.

Just a few short days ago, Briggs had forced them into drug rehab treatment at On Belay House in Plymouth, Minnesota--Rynn’s hometown. Now, her parents were in the recovery process. As he knew it, they were on still on stage one and needed to admit their lives had become unmanageable. Which is exactly why they were here now, sitting in these chairs and staring into the faces of people Briggs wished had no part of her life.

The room had soft pale yellow paint on the walls, simple office chairs with even a fake plant in the center of the coffee table--classic therapy room--to avoid distraction for the reason they were here. Briggs glanced away from the room and back to an old guy with glasses sitting low on his nose in a proper office chair as he spoke. “We are here today for Warwick and Tarina to share with you the process that they’ve been through these last few days here and to speak from their hearts. We’re not here to judge, only listen.”

Briggs’ anger grew in strides. What a ridiculous display this was. No conversation would fix what they had done. He came here for Rynn, and her alone. He hoped this meeting would give her a sense of peace. Resolve this situation in her heart. Yet, he doubted that was possible. Knowing that his emotions were running away with him, he tried his best to close off his feelings so Rynn wouldn’t sense them. He wanted her to deal with her own emotions, not his. Usually, he enjoyed the intense connection they shared as werewolf mates. Now, she needed him to lean on for support and he did his best to remember that.

But tonight, he could sense her unstable emotions. Clearly, she wasn’t sure how to feel about this meeting with her parents. They looked great, probably because they continually washed. When Briggs discovered them, they’d resorted to living on the streets, caring for nothing and no one except drugs. Pathetic couldn’t even explain how unclean and disgusting they had looked when he’d first laid eyes on them.

The Doctor’s gaze left Briggs and he gestured toward Tarina to start.

“Rynn,” Tarina said, her voice soft and reserved.

Briggs could immediately sense Rynn’s emotions crumble. This wasn’t going to be easy for her. He could feel the anger within her that they’d chosen drugs over her but there was also sadness that they had abandoned her so young.

He could throttle the two people sitting before him. They were only lucky they had gotten this far. His resolve to this problem was to see the end of them, but his mate wouldn’t have that. For her, he would sit through this ridiculous display and listen to the two individuals who had caused her a lifetime of pain. He doubted anything they said would change his opinion of them.

Tarina cleared her throat softly before she continued. “There is nothing I can say to change what has happened in the past. Nothing that will forgive what I have done.”

“You’re bloody right about that,” Briggs interjected.

Rynn squeezed his thigh, drew his gaze down and into her pleading eyes. He took a deep breath and settled back to listen. She needed his support and he would give her that. Again, he reminded himself to rein it in. But it didn’t change the underlying truth that these two sods could rot in hell as far as he was concerned.

Tarina started crying.

Briggs snorted. Her mother knew how to put on a show. How many tears had Rynn shed for them? The woman’s sadness did only one thing…pissed him off more. She was not going to earn his sympathy.

“Go on, Mom,” Rynn said and frowned at Briggs.

It only amused him and eased a bit of the tension along his shoulders. His soft mate looked so lovely when she was angry. Such a little ball of fire she was. He’d piss her off at times just to see that look, it enthralled him.

Tarina sniffed a couple times. Her look was so similar to Rynn, brown hair the exact shade, except Tarina’s was cut at her chin. Even her silver eyes were nearly identical in color and held the same round shape to them.

Yet, her eyes didn’t hold the sweet soul that belonged to his mate. That could never be duplicated. “We were never there for you growing up. Never saw you or cared for you, and that is what I’m so very sorry about. You didn’t have a family.”

“Yes I did,” Rynn retorted without a moment’s hesitation. “I had Pops and he was all I ever needed.”

If it wasn’t for Rynn’s grandfather who had taken her in when she was four, Briggs couldn’t even imagine what would have happened to her. His heart clenched just thinking about it. Now, her grandfather was sick with Alzheimer’s and couldn’t remember her.

Briggs knew the pain it caused her daily. She hadn’t been able to go and visit him since her transformation. Without the control over her wolf, she couldn’t risk shifting in front of him. Just because his mind was gone, didn’t mean that seeing a human morph into a wolf wouldn’t be shocking. No need to make his situation worse.

Soon, she would see him again and Briggs eagerly wanted to take her. She’d only been released from the hospital earlier tonight. It took a little while to recover from her recent injuries.

Injuries sustained by Danika, a wolf determined to see the end of Rynn so her daughter could bond with Briggs. The plan was so unbelievable no one had put it together. It consisted of the fake kidnapping of her own daughter, Kali, bring Rynn out into the wolf world to expose her, then have hired goons kill her.

Luckily, Danika failed, but it wasn`t without injury. Grazed by a bullet and nearly blown to pieces, Rynn was lucky to be alive. In the end, Danika was dead, killed by her mate for her acts of betrayal. Briggs was certainly glad for that. Rynn had a hard time accepting her fate and although he understood that, he wouldn’t have wanted any other outcome.

Briggs drew back from his thoughts when Warwick reached out to take Rynn’s hand. His growl came immediate. No, the man was not allowed to touch her. Warwick wasn’t as stupid as Briggs thought, he instantly placed his hand back on his lap.

Her father looked much older than his forty years. Briggs suspected this was from prolonged drug use. Deep crow’s feet that seemed to create crevasses along his face surrounded dark eyes. His hair, recently cut, had salt and pepper coloring. The man looked worn.

Warwick’s gaze left Briggs and fell to Rynn. “We’re sorry that we let our disease rule us and made us forget everything that was important. We’re grateful that Pops knew just how special you really are.”

Rynn’s eyes began to well up and tumultuous emotions ran through her. Briggs tensed and she reacted to it instantly. She reached out and ran her fingers along his tight fist. Her emotions told him that she was okay--overwhelmed--but okay.

“You have turned out to be a fine lady and are a better person than your mother and I will ever become. We owe Pops a great deal for raising you so well.” Warwick turned his gaze to Briggs. “I respect the loyalty you have to her and if I was sitting in your position, I’d be looking at me like you are now.”

Briggs arched a brow. “Would you now?”

Warwick nodded, his tone full of disgrace. “We have failed her and if you held us in high regard, I suppose that would say you don’t deserve her.”

“And do you think you are worthy of her?” The accusation from Briggs held heavy in the air.

Warwick’s head hung in shame. “No. I do not think I am.”

“Then we do agree on something.”

Dr. Wanker cut in. “We are not here to judge, only to listen.”
Briggs steeled him with a hard look. “Best we direct the conversation away from me then. I have nothing to say here that’s not judgmental.”

“We are here to help in their recovery,” the Doctor chastised.

“No, I am here because my wife wants to be here.” Briggs corrected him quickly.

Rynn stiffened at the word wife. Briggs understood why she felt uncomfortable with the title. She was his mate. The two seemed worlds apart. She gave her head a shake, then looked to Briggs. “Can we just move on please?”

Dr. Wanker pushed his glasses further onto his nose. “Yes.” He nodded at Warwick to continue.

Warwick’s gaze focused, unwavering, on Briggs. “We will make right what we have done wrong to her. We see now what our disease has done to us. We can gain her trust back.”

Briggs’ tension multiplied. He was doing his best to shield his emotions from Rynn, but suspected she could sense that he felt they could never nullify what had been done.

She ran her fingers softly against his hand to gain his attention. When he glanced at her, she gave him a little smile. It said it all. She didn’t mind his protectiveness, but she wanted her parents to get well, needed them to.

He reached up and brushed his fingers along her sweet soft cheek and Rynn leaned into his fingers. No matter what his feelings were on the matter she was his only priority.

Tarina sniffed loudly. “You seem so happy.”

Rynn moved away from Briggs’ hand and glanced at her mother. “I am, very happy.”

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Warwick said to Briggs.

Briggs thought he was in control of himself. Apparently, he wasn’t and had reached the end of his tolerance. He forced himself to keep the glare from showing on his face, but was unable to control the anger in his voice. “Your daughter needs to be taken care of by no one. If you hadn’t spent the last years out of your mind, you would know that. She’s kind, generous, loving and strong--all qualities that obviously came from neither of you.”

Briggs raised his hand to stop Dr. Wanker when he was about to speak, his scowl prevalent. “And what you should all realize is that this ridiculous session has nothing to do with you. It’s not about you.” He pointed to Rynn who had a tear falling down her cheek. He could feel the swell of love course through their bond. “It’s about her--her healing. Your words will fix nothing. Hearing you apologize is meaningless. If you want to make it up to her, get well, and begin to restore the betrayal she suffers. Show her. Not until then should you speak a word of your happiness because we all know, your word means jack shit.”

Silence filled the room. Rynn looked at her hands as she cried.

Dr. Wanker cleared his throat loudly. “I believe Tarina and Warwick have spoken what needed to be said here.”

Briggs was still furious. What had been said really? That they now realized they made mistakes? Well, it was too late for that. The damage was irreversible. The future would be what determined their fate in his eyes.

Tarina stood and went to hug her daughter, but Briggs stood quickly and stepped in front of her. “Embracing her is something you must earn and you have not even come close to that, woman.”

Tarnia dropped her arms and sobbed again, but said nothing. Warwick still sat in his chair, gaze on the floor. Dr. Wanker just looked pissed.

Briggs turned and helped Rynn to her feet. When she glanced at him, her eyes tearful, all he felt was a feeling of security. She seemed to understand what it cost him to be here. He wanted to kill them. It may be violent, but that’s just the wolf’s way. His only thought was of her, to shield her, and she was humbled by that.

He also sensed that she craved to go into her mother’s arms and tell her that she forgave her. She wanted her to know that it was all right and that she understood, but also understood why Briggs had done it. He was doing this to protect her. If she allowed herself to open up to them, they could hurt her and that was one thing he couldn’t allow. Not ever. She had already had her fair share of that. He wouldn’t see her hurt again.

With a final look at her parents, seeing them in all their misery, he pulled on Rynn’s hand and led her from the room. Just as the door closed behind them, Briggs’ phone rang. He reached into his pocket and flipped it open.

“Aye.” He listened for a few moments, then he smiled as he met Rynn’s gaze, happiness flaring through him. This call was just what they needed after this ordeal.

Rynn’s gaze turned curious. When he closed the phone, she asked, “What?”

“We have somewhere to go.”

“Already?” A little pout rose to her darling face. “We can’t go home?”

He shook his head, grinning. “Not yet, darlin’.”

Website - www.staceykennedy.com
Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/profile.php?id=100000956942180
Goodreads - http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3473046.Stacey_Kennedy
Twitter - http://twitter.com/Stacey_Kennedy

Interview with Author Stacey Kennedy

2011-02-11T00:01:00.032-05:00

Please welcome author Stacey Kennedy, who has a new release out TODAY! And come back tomorrow to learn more about another one of her great books!

• Tell me a little bit about yourself.

My journey as a writer began as a way to keep my brain alive since being a stay at home mom can be a little let’s say numbing. It was an escape from screaming kids, dirty diapers and plain old mom duty.

It started as a hobby, but as the stories progressed it became a passion. Now, I indulge at nap time, especially the juicy bits! Every mom needs a good thrill!

• Do you use a pseudonym and if so, why?

Nope, Stacey Kennedy is actually my real name. When it came down to it, I just had no idea what to call myself. And truthfully, I thought it was so strange that my readers would be calling me by a name that wasn’t mine. It just never felt right to me.

• What genre do you write in? Why did you pick that genre?

I write Urban Fantasy Romance and Paranormal Erotic Romance. Why? Well… because I love supernaturals. Not just the sexy vampires, or the powerful werewolves, but I love the magical element. My stories are always fast paced tales that have some adventure and danger involved. And of course passion is always guaranteed.

• What inspires you to write the type of stories that you write?

Truthfully, I’ve never attempted to write outside of these genres and I can’t see myself trying anytime soon. I love urban fantasy/paranormal romance. I think what inspires me the most is the world-building. To create a place that is all yours, is a pretty neat thing to do.

The inspiration comes from real characters. I love women who would be just like you and me. Who are thrown into these crazy dangerous situations and watching them somehow try to get out of it alive. I love emotion in books, and therefore, my work tends to have a lot of it…add in sexy scenes, and that is all the inspiration I need.

• How would you describe your writing style? Plotter or pantser? Why?

Pantser all the way!! I tried my hand at plotting, but it is pointless. The story always goes in another direction once I start writing it. Needless to say I gave up trying to fight against it and now just let the characters lead the way. It makes for tough edits when I’m done trying to make sure it all makes sense …but somehow, it all works out in the end.

• What is your favorite genre to READ?

Um…urban fantasy and paranormal romance of course!!

• Do you have a specific place where you like to write? When, during the day, is your most creative time?

On the couch surrounded by my quilt! If it was my choice I would write in the afternoon. It’s when I’m most productive. But…I have two small children. One is in school all day. The other is gone three times a week during the morning. So, I take those nine hours a week and write as much as I can in that time.

• What’s your typical writing day?

It’s really quite simple. I make a coffee, I make sure there is no noise around me, I curl up on the couch and then write. That’s it…that’s all! In a good day, I can get out about three thousand words in one sitting. But like I said, mornings are not the best time for me…so it usually takes me a good hour, a few gulps of coffee to get my butt in gear.

• Do you have critique partners or beta readers? Why?

Yes, I have an awesome critique partner who I mesh with really well. I actually don’t have beta readers. Why? Well…that’s because I’m a really sensitive person. I can’t take too many people critiquing the story or I’ll start to doubt it. So, I let my critique partner have a go at it, then I edit the heck out of it when she sends it back, and then it’s off to the publisher. It’s a partnership that I love and I couldn’t ask for a better critique partner.

• Who give you the most support along in your writing?

The readers without a doubt. Every time I get an email where a reader gushes over my story, it gives me the confidence to write more. I swear my most loyal readers have more confidence in me than I do in myself. I can only hope that I keep making them proud and they continue to enjoy my stories.

• Do you have another job (besides writing)? If so, what do you do?

I’m a stay at home Mom. That’s been my life for the past five years now and I love it. I’ve enjoyed spending so much time with my children and watching them grow. It’s going to be a big shock to the system when my youngest goes off to school in September full time. But I can’t deny I’m not excited for all the writing time that will allow me.

I do also have a part-time job at a children’s clothing store. Truthfully, I needed to get out of the house after I had kids. Let’s just leave it at…I was lonely. The kiddies are great, but I needed some adult conversation to keep me sane. So, I do that two days a week in the evening. I really love it and all the fantastic women I work with. It’s a good and healthy thing to get out of the house once in a while.

• What’s your take on the future of ebooks and epublishing?

Hmmm….my take is it’s going to flourish. I think that has already been proven. I stopped reading paperbacks a while ago…and my Kobo has become my new best friend. So, for me, ebooks simply ROCK!

• Do you have a favorite quote -- yours or someone famous or even infamous?

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." Dr. Seuss

"Beginnings are scary endings are usually sad but it's the middle that counts the most." Hope Floats Movie

• What’s your favorite food?

Anything that is horribly bad for me―chocolate and me just get along really well!

• What’s your favorite movie? Why?

All time favourite movie is The Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Combine a story of one woman’s life, the healing of hearts, the joining of women and a romance in there too… and I’m a sucker!

• Do you have a favorite book or author?

Katie MacAllister and Jeaniene Frost are by far my two favourite authors. I have a real big thing for stories told in the first person and where the hero and heroine stay in love throughout the entire series. I’m not a huge fan of drama and if I’m not given a happy ending, I’m grumpy.

• Tell me about your latest or upcoming release?

My latest release came out today. Here is a little about it:

Whispers of Evil – The Watchers Book Two (Cobblestone Press)

Nayeli has been locked away, hidden from the world in a mental institution, all due to the whispers of evil which have corrupted her mind. Unbeknownst to her, the voices that have plagued her are a gift given to only one kind―Watchers.

Griffin, her Seeker, is about to break this cage of imprisonment woven around her and give her a new chance at life. But when a demon leaves the confines of Hell to create havoc in Louisiana, will his love for Nayeli free her wounded heart, or will she succumb to the whispers which threaten to steal her soul?

*WARNING: Explicit sex between a timid Watcher and a gorgeous Seeker, and a ceremony that will certainly raise eyebrows!

BUY LINK - http://www.staceykennedy.com/books/erotic-romances/the-watchers-series/whispers-of-evil/

• Do you have any releases scheduled for 2011?

I’ve got a co-authored story with Sara Brookes that I’m presently working on. It’s a paranormal romance and is going to be fantastic! Hopefully, we’ll get this one wrapped up soon and off to submission.

I’m also going to be part of a paranormal erotic anthology with Keta Diablo, Amber Scott and Elise Hepner. So keep an eye out for that…it’s very exciting!

My urban fantasy romance, Stolen Dreams, The Lingering Spirit Book One, I’ve decided to go indie with…so wish me luck!!

Basically I have a release slated for every month until May. Needless to say, there will be lots of books to continue on with my all of series, and maybe a few single titles squeezed in there too.

• What’s your next project?

Right now, I’m working on the third Watchers book. I’ve been dying to write this story since I began The Watchers series, so I’m very eager to dig in and write Tate’s story.

• Where can readers find you on the web?

You can find me here:

Website – http://www.staceykennedy.com/
Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/profile.php?id=100000956942180
Goodreads - http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3473046.Stacey_Kennedy
Twitter – http://twitter.com/Stacey_Kennedy

Thursday Thirteen: 13 Adult Snowmen (Not CHILDSPLAY)

2011-02-10T00:01:00.017-05:00

13 SNOWMAN THAT YOUR KIDS DID NOT MAKE :

Or at least I hope not! Here are 13 not-your-average snowmen...