Author Archives: Nicola Cameron
Mid Week Tease: To My Muse #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, folks! This week I’m teasing you with another snippet from To My Muse. I’ve backed things up a bit to Tom’s first scene, where we get to see his viewpoint upon finding a gorgeous romance writer in his hotel room about to throw down with his costar. There’s no real sexytimes in this teaser, but you do see the beginning of Tom’s attraction to Lily.
Oh, and to explain the pics, that’s hilarious actress/Youtuber Liza Koshy and Lucifer‘s Tom Ellis, who are playing Lily and Tom in my head. You’re welcome!
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
“Jeez, Tom, will you relax?” Jolene chided me. “You snort up half of Peru or what?”
“Sorry.” I tried to stay still while the GearShifter makeup goddess dabbed some dark powder along my cheekbone, referring to pictures that the continuity girl had taken earlier that day to match up the distribution pattern. We’d already shot a full day and I’d been looking forward to a relaxing evening of memorization over room service followed up with a glass of wine and five fitful hours of sleep as I wondered how the hell I was going to pull At the Right Hand together.
Instead, God (or the Flying Spaghetti Monster, take your pick) had smiled down upon me and sent me Lily Nayar, screenwriter of my dreams. And then I had to leave her at the hotel and come back to this thrice-buggered set just as we were ready to discuss what I needed for the script, hence my jittering. She wouldn’t change her mind, would she? I mean, she’s getting gross points, for God’s sake.
I’m not sure what had shocked me more when I’d walked into my hotel room earlier that afternoon—seeing Claudine standing there in nothing but a towel and a scowl, or seeing this tiny, gorgeous woman glaring up at Claud as if she was going to shred her like a honey badger. It took me a beat before I recognized the shorter woman as the romance writer who had tweeted at me last week to tell me that I’d inspired her latest novel. I have an actor’s ego, just about able to fit through your average supernova, so of course I was chuffed that my performance on GearShifter had prompted someone to write a swoony kissing book. I’d asked her to send a copy to my agent’s office, figuring that I’d stick it in a bookcase and look at it fondly when I wanted to be reminded of the days when I was lusted after by American women.
What I hadn’t expected was it to be messengered to my house along with the contracts for the luxury car commercials I was going to be doing voiceovers for (a British accent makes everything sound more luxe to the Americans, bless their colonial hearts). Normally non-business items sit in my agent’s mail room until the pile reaches a certain size limit and then they get shipped to me en masse, but Eric’s minions had apparently decided to be industrious for once. I’d been leaving for the airport when the messenger showed up so I stuck the large envelope in my carryon, figuring I’d read the contracts on the flight to Las Vegas. When I reached in to get them, however, I pulled out Lily’s book instead.
Right off the bat the cover surprised me. It had a Dutch Master feel to the colors and composition, and not a himbo in sight. Instead, a rather intent couple posed back to back in front of a menacing medieval structure. I flipped to the first page, figuring I’d scan it to see what I’d wrought in the mind of a fantasy romance writer.
When we landed in Vegas forty minutes later, I was deep in the middle of Chapter Three. To my surprise Ms. Nayar had woven together a terrific combination of politics, sex, and comic revenge. It was as if someone had taken Game of Thrones, gotten rid of the gore and rapey bits, bumped up the sexytimes and made them consensual, and added a laugh track. I even rather liked “my” character, a rather cold but fundamentally decent baron named Montmorency who had to work with a noblewoman to stop her sister from being married off to an oaf. I was disappointed when I had to put the book away and deplane.
I picked it up again that night after memorizing my lines for the next day and kept reading far later than I should have. I did take a break at one point and went to Lily’s author website to see what else she had on offer. Apparently Feast of Lovers was fifth in a series so I had more reading material to look forward to. Curious, I clicked on her About page. “Lilian DeVries” turned out to be a gorgeous woman with sparkling brown eyes and a mass of lovely dark curls that, if they were anything like my sisters’, probably drove her spare every morning. She looked like she’d been giggling mid-pic, and I wondered what her laugh sounded like.
So you can imagine my surprise when I walked into my hotel room and saw her facing off with a terrycloth-clad Claudine. Actually, Claud’s presence tipped it out of the “surprise” box and into the “what the actual FUCK” box. You see, my costar had made it very clear early last season that I was expected to grace her bed at some point. I, in return, had made it very clear that I wasn’t interested. Or at least I thought I had. Claud was absolutely gorgeous, yes. She was also catty, manipulative, and more than a bit egotistic, and I didn’t feel like putting up with her “all shall love me and despair” attitude just for a shag.
Apparently she’d taken that as a challenge, hence her appearance in my room wearing nothing but a towel. I suspect things would have gotten TMZ-level difficult if Lily hadn’t picked up on my silent pleading and pretended to be my girlfriend. When she delivered her quintessentially American ultimatum, I was torn between sympathetically cringing and wanting to cheer.
Chasing off Claud was enough to make me worship the fierce Ms. Nayar in and of itself. But mirable dictu, she turned out to be a screenwriter as well as a novelist, and she was familiar with Piux XII and Mother Pascalina, and she was willing to write a spec script for me. I can only assume that the room key botch-up was divinely inspired because there was no other explanation for how she wound up in my hotel room at just the right time. Now that I had the script lined up, I could work on wheedling Nathan to commit to the film, at which point the rest of the production would hopefully fall into place.
While the business part of my brain plotted and planned, the part concerned with everything below the belt was reminding me that 1) Lily was even lovelier in person, 2) smelled amazing, and 3) she thought I was at least moderately attractive, if her book was anything to judge by, so 4) I could very possibly be in there. The business part overheard that and icily told the fun part that I needed her for her writing talent, not for her curvy little body and expressive face. I caved to the business side; my unruly penis would just have to stay safely in my trousers until we started production, bugger it all.
But now instead of discussing the plot of my movie with my talented (and gorgeous) screenwriter, I was back at the GearShifter set in my increasingly ripe costume while fake dirt was being applied to my face. So much for the glamour of acting.
“Did you ever find out why we got called back?” the man in the chair next to me asked. Liam Hennessy was an American character actor known for his work in police procedurals and paranormal shows. On our show he played a morally ambiguous fixer with a penchant for sadism, which was hilarious because in real life he was a perfect gentleman with a penchant for landscape photography. If he was grumbling a bit about being called back to set, I felt justified about being pissed off.
I shrugged and Jolene made an annoyed noise at my movement. “Sorry,” I apologized to her, before adding to Liam, “Something about the camera placement being off for the CGI.”
Liam glanced at the neon green sleeve that covered his right arm and hand and sighed. In post it would be replaced by the grungy biomechanical limb that his character used to terrorize my costars. “Why do I have a feeling that’s gonna involve me?”
I grimaced in sympathy. I didn’t understand all of the fancy special effects tech, but I did know that anyone who wore green neoprene or movement capture suits wound up doing more work than the rest of us. “Maybe it won’t take that long,” I offered. “Are you working the weekend?”
“Nope. As soon as they clear me tomorrow I’m heading back to LA.” He smiled. “Got a camping date with my kid. If they need anything else, they can wait until next week.”
“Good on you, mate.” One of my more treasured daydreams was to find someone who could put up with my mad career, settle down, and have a couple of squalling brats that we’d love to distraction. I couldn’t see that happening in LA, though, and I hadn’t met anyone in London that I’d fancied enough. “Have a s’more for me.”
Jolene declared Liam done and shooed him out of the makeup trailer. “You staying clear of the Queen of Whore Island?” she asked once we were alone.
“Oh, Christ, Jo. You won’t believe what she did.” Makeup people were a combination of artist, technician, miracle worker, and psychologist and always had their fingers on the pulse of a set, so I poured out what had happened in my hotel room. “You should have seen her face when Lily threatened to cunt punt her into Arizona.”
Jolene giggled in conspiratorial delight. “That one sounds like a keeper, babe. You better treat her right.”
Part of me wanted to do just that, ideally in my bed over a long weekend, or even longer if I could manage it. Down, lad. Movie first, seduction later.
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Marvelous Monday Reads: Aspire to Love
Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, poppets! Today I’m featuring Allyson Young and her re-release of her three-book compilation Aspire to Love. Take it away, Allyson!
NEAR PERFECTION
Haley Snider thought Warren Chalmers was the perfect Dom, so she transformed herself into the perfect sub. A woman in love is truly blind, because Warren can be such an ass.
Warren doesn’t really know what he wants, and questions the very perfection he apparently sought. Haley leaves Warren before he can reject her, unveiling a surprising temper and steely determination. He is both intrigued and forced to look at himself. He doesn’t much care for what he finds, and is determined to change, to seek Haley out and really get to know her.
Realizing that her obsession with Warren has kept her from being true to herself and him, Haley decides to embrace life differently. Upon reconnecting with her, Warren discovers his best friend Gordon Sinclair has a different idea in mind for them all, and that life can be filled with both friendship and love. And hot sex.
TRUE PERFECTION
Haley Snider left her selfish Dom and sought solace with her best friend. Gordon Sinclair facilitated Haley and Warren Chalmers’s reunion—with a twist. He proposes a ménage relationship. But Haley isn’t so sure. She’s afraid of getting hurt again and also wants to pursue her career and live her life outside of the bedroom, something Warren hadn’t accepted before. She resists their attempts at building a relationship and then tragedy strikes.
She blames herself, believing she has been selfish and her desperate, guilty feelings cloud her thinking. She won’t walk away this time but will wait for Gordon and Warren to realize she’s brought them too much trouble and tell her to leave. In the meantime, she will try to make amends, reverting back to pretense.
It takes considerable effort on her men’s part to help Haley face reality and accept what she truly needs and deserves.
ABSOLUTE PERFECTION
Georgios Andreas’s wife, Jane, left him and died under mysterious circumstances. Afterward, he avoided relationships outside of club play.
At a ceremonial claiming, he meets the sister of the submissive, there to bear witness to her sister’s claiming. Iris Snider draws him, initially because she looks like Jane, but he quickly realizes she is so much more. He is powerless against the attraction.
Georgios sweeps her off her feet, insisting she too is submissive. Iris, for the first time in her life, leaps before she looks. She falls in love and submits to Georgios, hoping for more than a D/s relationship, and he, too, dares hope for more.
Iris then sees a picture of Jane and is devastated by her resemblance to Georgios’s dead wife. She refuses to take the leavings of a ghost. Georgios gives her space, inadvertently putting her in danger. Jane’s killer is still out there, and he, too, has seen the resemblance. And he hates George.
Where to Buy
Universal | iTunes | Barnes & Noble | Amazon | Kobo
About the Author
Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada with her husband and numerous pets. She has always enjoyed the written word, and after reading an erotic romance, quite by mistake, decided to try her hand at penning one.
She is a bestselling Amazon author, a hybrid author, and, along with her alter ego and three coauthors, has published four series and several standalones in contemporary, sci-fi, fantasy and suspense genres—50 books in total.
Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied- when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the darker side of romance.
Nicola’s Sunday Shoutout: London Saint James
Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to London Saint James, whose new audiobook Forever & Always is now out. Take it away, London!
Hi! Thank you so much for having me on your blog today to chat about my brand new audiobook baby, Forever & Always. This is book two of my Two Hearts, One Soul Duet and continues where Always, book one left off, completing Winter (my heroines) story.
One of the things readers/listeners ask me quite often is where does the inspiration for my stories come from? My answer; from many things—dreams, music, art, conversations, places I’ve been, etc… But when it comes to this duet, my inspiration came from a question to myself after seeing a documentary about kids who clearly remembered events, people, and places they shouldn’t have known about and the belief of past lives.
What was the question(s) I asked myself?
What if there was such a thing as soul mates? One person you were meant to love? From there came, what if we met our soul mate, lost them, and found them again years later? Is soul transfer or reincarnation a possibility? Can love conquer death?
Now, it’s your turn to ponder. Is it possible? Do you believe in soul mates?
XoXo
London
From international bestselling author London Saint James comes the final installment of Two Hearts, One Soul, a breathtaking story of two people who have always been connected, forever tied together by fate, by destiny, by unbreakable love.
With the media hell-bent on exposing Winter’s once private life, Cayden will do anything to protect her. But there’s more than just the voracious paparazzi conspiring against them.
Involved in an unprecedented web of strange events, and wound in a string of lies about to break with devastating consequences, Winter must battle ghosts from her past that threaten to harm the man she loves.
Faced with a choice she always knew would be inevitable, and a secret of her own, can the fairytale Winter’s been living with Cayden beat the odds of their reality and really come true?
Story Excerpt
Listen to a sample:
A breeze blew into the bedroom from the open balcony doors—crisp and clean. The details of winter lingered with just a hint of spring to come, giving the warm room a punch of coolness as early morning sun slanted across the foot of the bed, highlighting the sheets in disarray.
My gaze shifted over to Cayden, sitting at the writing desk, phone in hand, speaking to someone about his upcoming film shoot. When his current film was done, he would be heading to Vancouver.
Would I be going? I didn’t know.
Leaning my hip against the doorjamb of the bathroom, I watched him, how his body moved—the muscles that flexed in his arm when he picked up a script from the desk. He was quietly confident, his movements fluid. No doubt, Cayden was something to watch even in such mundane things.
So very much like Austin.
Walking quietly out of the bathroom, I went to him, not wishing to disturb him, but desperately wanting to touch the man of my dreams. In many ways, he still seemed unreal to me, as if he were an optical phenomenon that could liquefy into hazy lines of heat and disappear.
With the phone to his ear, Cayden turned and looked at me, his sapphire gaze roaming from the hair piled in a messy bun atop my head, to my bubble-gum-pink-painted toenails before he smiled.
My heart thrummed.
Reaching out, he pulled me onto his lap where I willingly went, and picked up a pen from beside my laptop. Then, he crooked his head, holding the handset to the cordless in place against his shoulder to free his other hand and took a hold of mine.
Curious, I wondered what he was up to.
Cayden turned my hand over, palm side up. Swiped his fingers softly over my palm once. Wrote, I Love U, boldly across it. And then he curled my fingers closed, securing the words tight within the palm of my hand before he moved his hands from mine and took hold of the handset again.
My heart, not to mention my body, felt as if it would explode from the joy those three little words inspired. But the fact he wrote them, tattooed them onto my skin, was simply the sweetest thing he could have done.
“Go ahead and e-mail it. I’ll take a look,” he said to the person on the other end of the phone.
There was a pause. A buzzing followed by another pause.
“Sure. Not a problem,” Cayden replied, motioning for me to get up.
When I did, he adjusted the hard, straight-backed desk chair as well himself, and patted his lap.
Wearing nothing but a towel, I straddled him, chest to chest, and placed my arms around his strong shoulders. “Good?” I mouthed.
He winked his approval.
I played with the ends of his hair, feeling the impressive bulge beneath his designer sweatpants jerk against my bare core.
Blood raced through my veins with a start.
“Yes,” Cayden said into the phone. “I’m planning on it, but we can talk about that later.”
There was another pause, more humming sounds, then one of his hands went to my backside and squeezed. “Okay, thanks,” Cayden said.
He hadn’t been talking to me, but to whoever was on the phone.
“I will. Enjoy your breakfast.” He punched the end button and placed the handset into the receiver on the desk.
“I didn’t mean to disturb your call. I realize it was business,” I said.
“You can ‘disturb’ me anytime, baby.”
Where To Buy
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Audible US | Audible UK
About the Narrators
If you have had the pleasure of listening to any of Tor Thom and Charley Ongel’s auidobooks, you’ve probably said to yourself, “Wow, they really work well together.” Part of their great vocal chemistry is sheer talent, but the other part is most likely due to the fact they are together. Yep. Tor and Charley are happily married and have been narrating and producing audiobooks for the last year and a half, gathering hordes of fans. And, yes, I’m a fangirl of their work, too!
You can find out more here:
YouTube: http://tinyurl.com/y73von9m
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/torthom
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tor_thom
Twitter: @TorThomNarrator
About the Author
I live in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee with a sexy, alpha-male hero of my very own and a spoiled, bossy fat cat. The stories I write have hot, protective men who love their women, and strong—even if they don’t realize they are strong—women who love and protect their men. The road to their Happily Ever Afters may not be easy, and they may have a little bit of angst, but they’ll get everything worked out, do a lot of kissing, and have some sizzling moments along the way.
Website | Twitter | Instagram | Facebook | Facebook Group | Newsletter
Fabulous Friday Reads: Divulging Secrets
TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with Lynn Burke’s hot new romance Divulging Secrets, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine online fiction. Take it away, Lynn!
Candace Lake’s testimony against her father landed her in the Witness Protection program. With a new identity comes a new beginning, one based on lies and loneliness. How can she find someone to share her future with when a relationship without trust at its foundation won’t stand the storms of life?
Tom Berkley didn’t expect his new tenant to make him question his solitary lifestyle in the backwoods of Maine. He also didn’t expect to be caught up in the secrets of her past that bring his own tragic ones to the forefront of his mind.
The sizzling chemistry between them can’t be ignored, but when the threats from Candace’s turbulent past catch up with her, can she trust Tom enough to protect her from the price on her head?
Story Excerpt
She set her wine down on the chair beside mine, and I didn’t breathe as she moved through the water, settling herself on my lap, her pussy mere inches from my throbbing cock. Mind blank, my hands moved on their own beneath the water, settling on her tiny waist and pulling her close. Our mouths collided.
So much for restraint.
She ground herself against my cock and tangled her fingers in my hair, moaning. “I want you so bad it hurts, Tom.” Breasts pressed against my chest, she attacked my lips again.
I couldn’t form the words to tell her I felt the same, my mind was so damn focused on the feel of her curves against me. The taste of her mouth. My hands slid down her ass, squeezing and holding her still as my hips moved, thrusting my cock against her softness.
Candace reached between us and grasped me through my swim trunks. I grunted as she squeezed. “I want you inside of me,” she murmured against my lips and slid her hand beneath my waist band.
“Fuck.” My head fell back as her hand closed around me, skin on skin. Talk about seeing fucking stars. I thrust into her grasp, gone.
She wiggled and tugged, yanking my shorts down enough to free my hard length.
“I-I can’t do this,” I heard myself whisper.
“Yes, you can,” she whispered against my ear, moving her hips forward. She’d untied her fucking bathing suit bottoms.
I groaned a few curses as she rubbed her bare pussy against me, her blue eyes overcome by the black of her pupils.
She lifted and lined up my cock, sinking down an inch before I could breathe.
Where to Buy
Evernight Publishing | Amazon US | Amazon UK | Kobo | Barnes & Noble | Smashwords
About the Author
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
Mid Week Tease: Shifter Woods: Snarl #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, lovelies! This week is another teaser from the third book in my Esposito County Shifters series, Shifter Woods: Snarl. Kate’s becoming more and more attracted to this lone wolf shifter her dad invited to live with them — but will she ever figure out why? Hmm…
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Over the next week the Chandler household slowly shifted to absorb its newest member into the daily routine. Kate learned that Jack woke up earlier than she did, which made sharing the hallway bathroom easier. He even cleaned up after himself, wiping down the shower and sink and depositing the damp towels in the bathroom hamper, which constituted a genuine miracle in her opinion. And while they had an automatic coffee maker, Jack had unilaterally taken on the role of breakfast chef and made sure that they started the day off with omelets, bacon and eggs, or other protein-dense meals.
Judging by what she’d heard from Wayne and Patty, the wolf shifter was fitting in well with the maintenance crew at the lodge, too. He willingly took on the messier jobs, picking up garbage along the runs and unblocking clogged sinks and toilets without a complaint. He also handled cleanup tasks on the public side of things, and she’d had to push her cougar down firmly a few times when she caught some of the female guests flirting with him. He’s a free agent. He can do what he likes.
But he never took a single human female up on an offer. Instead, he showed up for dinner every night and handled the dishwashing and kitchen cleaning afterwards. In the back of her mind, she wondered if he’d left someone back in North Carolina. She couldn’t have been a heart’s mate, otherwise she would have followed him. A bitter memory bubbled up at that, and she squelched it. Or he—maybe Jack’s gay? But I haven’t seen him checking out any of the guys, either.
All she knew was that he wasn’t interested in her. After that first dinner she hadn’t tried to flirt with him again. Being shot down was never fun, and having it happen in her own kitchen sucked donkey balls. Which made it all the more frustrating that Jack still managed to carbonate her hormones, a fact she took pains to hide from her father. Worse, her REM sleep had taken on an erotic life of its own. That morning she’d woken up from a sweetly hot dream of making out with Jack during a spring thunderstorm. The sky flashed and growled through her bedroom window and rain pounded against the glass as they’d sprawled together on her bed, kissing enthusiastically. For some reason her sadistic subconscious had kept both of them fully clothed, but Jack was lying between her legs in the dream and she could feel his thick erection brushing directly over her clit, driving her crazy with need. When the alarm went off and woke her up, she’d been left with no choice but to rub out a mercifully quick orgasm, gasping his name softly as she stroked herself.
After showering and getting dressed, she was sure that all traces of her sexfest had been rinsed down the drain. But Jack’s head came up the moment she sauntered into the kitchen. His nostrils flared as he sniffed, and his pupils dilated before he lowered his head again and focused on his omelet.
She didn’t have a sense of smell, but she damn well knew the signs of desire when she saw them. Well, I’ll be damned. “Hey,” she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee before sitting in front of her own omelet. “Where’s Dad?”
“He went over to the lodge early, said there was some equipment he had to deal with.”
That made sense. It also meant she had Jack all to herself for a few minutes. Might as well make the most of it. “Sleep well?”
Jack coughed a little, clearing his throat. “Um, yeah. You?”
“Oh, yeah.” She decided to poke the wolf a bit. “You ever wake up from a really great dream and you just know it’s going to be a good day?”
Blue eyes came up to meet her gaze, sending a little thrill through her. “Yeah,” he said softly. “As a matter of face, I have.”
Holding his gaze, she sliced off a fragment of omelet and forked it into her mouth. “Well, it’s going to be a really good day,” she said after chewing and swallowing. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, wolf man.
He licked his lips, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t because of the omelet. “Kate?” he said softly.
She leaned a fraction closer. “Yes?”
“You should clean up some more before going outside. Every shifter who comes near you will know you just came.”
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Mid Week Tease: Shifter Woods: Snarl #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, lovelies! This week I’m doing another sneak peek at the third book in my Esposito Country Shifters series, Shifter Woods: Snarl. I am not making things easy for Jack, but hey, the only easy day for a SEAL is yesterday.
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Jack wiped up the last bit of sauce with a scrap of garlic bread and popped it into his mouth, chewing happily. The rich tang of sautéed garlic and onions had combined with the herbal bite of chopped fresh basil, the spice of toasted oregano, and a smooth, meaty tomato sauce into something that was purely amazing. Poured over al dente pasta and with a green salad on the side and a glass of good Merlot in front of him, it was by far the best meal he’d had in some time. “That was absolutely incredible, Kate,” he said after swallowing. “You’re a hell of a good cook.”
Across the table, Chandler was scraping his own plate clean with more garlic bread, having demolished his own pile of pasta and sauce with gusto. “Damn right she is,” he said with obvious pride. “And she makes a mean chicken parmesan, too.”
“Gotta keep you guys fed and functional,” Kate said, giving her father a wink as she twirled up the last of her own spaghetti around her fork. “And since I cooked, you two can clean up.”
Chandler sighed, but nodded. “Fair’s fair.”
Jack sat back, content. The dinnertime conversation had been easy enough, with Chandler sounding him out on how his first day had gone and Kate praising his assessment skills. The older male’s eyes had narrowed when he heard about the asshole guest in the bar. “He didn’t touch you, did he?”
A corner of her mouth curled. “He tried. Nothing I haven’t handled before.” Her smile widened in Jack’s direction. “But Jack definitely made it easier for me.”
Chandler gave him an approving look. “Well, all right. But next time you call security if some jackass tries something.”
“Sir, yes sir.” Her tone was gently mocking, but Jack thought he heard an edge under it. He hoped it was just the natural tension between a father’s protective instincts and a daughter’s urge to be independent. And if it isn’t, who do you side with? Your former commander, or your future mate?
That was a problem for another time. “Everyone done?” he asked.
Both Chandlers nodded. He got up, taking their plates and silverware and stacking them on his own. “I’ll get these in the kitchen.”
The surprised look on Kate’s face suggested that clearing the table wasn’t part of what her father considered “cleaning up.” He flashed a grin at her as he scooped up his former commander’s silverware and added them to the small pile of cutlery on the topmost plate. “Dishwasher, right?”
She grinned back. “I like him, Dad. Can we keep him?”
Chandler’s long-suffering eyeroll required Jack to swallow a chuckle as he carried the plates into the homey kitchen, opening the dishwasher he’d spotted during his reconnoiter after work and slotting things into their respective racks. Another trip brought in the wine glasses and salad bowls. He was studying the leftover sauce in its pot on the stove and wondering where the storage containers were when he smelled her standing behind him.
Turning, he saw her with hands on her hips, another of those feline grins lighting up her face. “You know, you don’t have to do everything yourself,” she chided. “Dad’s perfectly capable of putting stuff in the dishwasher.”
He shrugged, wondering what she would do if he admitted his real reason for being helpful—the hope that he’d get her alone for a few minutes. “Just trying to pull my weight.”
“Yeah, I figured.” She stepped closer, stopping when she was only a few inches away. “Look, I don’t know your back story, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But this isn’t Coronado. You don’t have to prove anything here.”
The mention of the Navy base made his gut contract a little with longing. “That’s not how SEALs work,” he said, trying to keep his tone gentle. “We keep going, no matter what. I’d think you’d know that by now.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” She blew out a soft breath, and he couldn’t stop himself from inhaling. That was a mistake. Even with the overtones of garlic, onion, and wine, her essence was a sweetly golden beacon that reached into his soul and made his wolf howl in primal longing. Our mate. Ours.
And she was. His hands ached with the need to touch her, kiss her, pull her close and let her scent drench his skin. Her sweet round tits would feel amazing against his chest, and his rapidly hardening dick wanted to press against her belly, ride the rising tide of their paired desire—
No. I promised Chandler. She’s off limits.
The thought of the older male learning that he’d broken his vow had the same effect as diving into an ice cold breaker. His wolf growled this time, furious at his refusal. Our mate!
And she can’t smell that, plus I made a damn promise. So back the fuck off, furbag.
His wolf retreated, still growling. He stepped back as well, bumping into the stove. “There’s a lot of sauce left over,” he said, keeping his tone brisk. “Want me to freeze it?”
A flicker of disappointment flashed in her eyes. “Yeah. Use the pint containers in the cabinet left of the sink.”
“Got it.” He turned, aware that she was standing there watching him. You know the drill. It’s all mind over matter — if I don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.
Except that he did mind, dammit. And he had no idea how to fix it.
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Mid Week Tease: Shifter Woods: Snarl #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, lovelies! This week we’re cutting away to my shifter romance Shifter Woods: Snarl and picking up where I’d left off. Jack, a former SEAL and Alpha wolf shifter, has discovered that the cougar shifter daughter of his former commander is his mate — but she can’t smell due to an accident and has no idea that they’re meant to be together. He’s just dissuaded a horny customer of the Cougar Ridge Ski Resort from harassing her, and Kate is both appreciative and irritated. Let’s see which emotion wins out.
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
A flicker of pleasure lit Kate’s belly at Jack’s behavior. She wasn’t looking forward to having to put the guest on the floor, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to physically discourage a horny human male.
And then Jack made it unnecessary. The independent side of her bristled at him stepping in, but something very basic and female appreciated both the effort and his verbal support of her. “Let go of the gentleman, Mr. Hawthorne. I have this,” she said crisply.
Jack let go of the guest immediately. “Yes, ma’am.”
As expected, the human straightened up and went directly into aggression mode. “Who the fuck do you think you are,” he yelled at Jack. “I’m gonna sue you for assault.”
“No, you’re not.” Kate stepped between them, giving the guest a flat, feline smile. “Because if you do, I’ll countersue for harassment, which our cameras captured,” she nodded at the unobtrusive camera mount in the ceiling. The man looked up at it and blanched. “And then I’ll make sure you’re barred from every ski resort in New Mexico. And believe me, I can.” She allowed her smile to widen. “So I suggest you go upstairs, get packed, and leave. We’ll reimburse you for the day’s room rental, of course.”
The human swallowed audibly, attention flickering between her and Jack. She could feel the wolf shifter standing just behind her, menace radiating over her shoulder. “Fine. Didn’t want to stay here, anyway,” he muttered, shuffling around them and through the bar’s double doors.
Kate let out a breath, then turned to Jack. “Thank you for that, but it wasn’t necessary.”
Unexpectedly he smiled at her. The expression lit his eyes, making them sparkle, and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling back. “I know, and I’m sorry if I overstepped,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “But you applying a beat down would’ve hit him on his male bump, and he would have sued just to soothe his ego. This way, he gets to think he was smart to leave, and you don’t have to worry about nuisance lawsuits.”
She felt a moment of surprise at the assessment, then wanted to laugh. Why the hell are you surprised? He’s a SEAL — threat assessment is what they’re good at. “I … see. Well, anything that makes my life easier is always appreciated.”
His smile warmed a few degrees. “I live to serve.”
And the flutter low in her belly was back. She couldn’t help imagining him naked and in her bed, all furry and hard and willing to serve— Jesus Haploid Christ, Chandler, get your mind out of the gutter. “Are you off now?”
“According to Wayne.” He looked abashed. “I came up here to drop off the stuff I found on the trails. I offered to go back and keep working, but—”
She wanted to smack herself. Every SEAL she’d ever met had insane levels of endurance when it came to physical labor, and clearly Hawthorne wanted to work. “That wasn’t a criticism,” she said quickly. “If you were heading back to the house, I was going to ask you to take out the sausage meat out of the freezer and let it thaw. I forgot to do it before I left this morning.”
“Oh. Yeah, I can do that.” He shoved his hands in his parka’s pockets. “Do you want me to do anything else?”
The need beneath the question, the drive to be active and useful, was something she understood perfectly. “We’ve got some wood behind the house that need splitting. Dad keeps meaning to get to it, but he’s been swamped these last few weeks. If you could get those chopped for the fireplace—”
His smile was back. “Be happy to. Where do you keep your ax?”
“In the shed behind the house. There’s a chainsaw there, too, if you want to cut the logs up for easier chopping.”
He snorted. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Kate shook her head. Yeah, he’s a SEAL. “You got your orders, specialist,” she said, allowing a hint of playfulness into her tone.
“Yes, ma’am.” Another arm twitch of a smothered salute and he headed off. She watched him go, wishing that his parka didn’t get in the way of watching what she suspected was a truly magnificent ass.
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Well, that was an adventure!
First we must flashback to last night, when Ramón headed out around 9:30 PM to pick up some stuff from the store. He stepped out the door, then came back in for some reason and said, “I think I let a moth in — oh, it’s a bird.”
And indeed it was, some kind of small grey-brown bird with a flat head and sharp beak. Upon later comparison with pictures of common Texas birds I think it was a Swainson’s Thrush. We then spent a merry hour trying to capture the damn thing as it flew back and forth across the upstairs’ gallery ceilings, to no avail. I even got the pool skimmer out of the backyard to use as a net of sorts, but we just couldn’t catch the little bugger. In the meantime, the cats thought this was the Best Entertainment Ever, and had a whale of a time chasing the thrush upstairs and down while we cursed and chased after them.
Sweaty and exhausted, we finally gave up when the little bastard roosted somewhere and we couldn’t see him anymore. We decided to leave it for the night and cleaned up the little droplets of bird poop and pee the little bugger had scattered around downstairs (I need to mop the hardwood floors today), on the basis that we had three possible outcomes:
- We’d get up in the morning when it would be brighter outside than in (the brightness was probably what lured the bird inside in the first place), shoo the bird into a smaller room with a window, open said window and shoo it out.
- The bird would become exhausted and die somewhere, most likely in the craft room as that’s where it was spending most of its time, and we’d find it by the smell.
- The J Crew would leave us a messy little present, showing us what good hunters they were.
Luckily for everyone except the J Crew, Outcome One was what happened. I got up and saw the thrush flying back and forth in the craft room. I took a screen out of one of the windows there, but Jeremy the Big Orange Idiot kept trying to climb out the window and my cursing was disturbing Ramón, who was on a business call. By sheer good luck, however, I’d left the bedroom door open and it flew in there.
Ramón got off his call, followed me in, and turfed out the cats while I opened a window, removed the screen and tried to shoo the thrush out. It flew past me just as he asked me a question — while I was turned to answer our guest flew past me and outside, because I then heard a loud burst of birdsong that I translated to mean, “Guys, you would not BELIEVE what happened to me!”
So that was our adventure with local wildlife. In associated news we are cleaning our craft room this weekend because it is a complete disaster in there and I’m sure the little bugger crapped on things. Whee.
Mid Week Tease: To My Muse #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, lovelies! This week I’m going back to To My Muse, where Lily keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop with Tom, but it never does.
Yet, anyway. Hur, hur, hur.
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
That morning slowly turned into an afternoon, and both of them ranked as the most amazing in my life. We strolled through the best shopping Palm Springs had to offer and I couldn’t even be bothered to drool over any of the dresses, shoes, or jewelry. I was having too much fun being with Tom.
There’s one huge difference between fantasy and reality, and it’s not just because one takes place in your head and the other takes place in front of you. When you have a crush on someone and fantasize about being with them, your imagination is supplying everything that’s going on so it’s going to be perfect (at least, unless you’re into self-flagellation. I have a friend who always imagines her crushes cheating on her so that she doesn’t get too sucked into the dream. I ask you). So your fantasy partner is always funny, charming, great in bed, and interested in all the same things you are. And then you wind up hooking up in reality, and you realize he’s an anime fan and you barely know who Sailor Moon is, or he looks at you blankly when you rhapsodize about the MCU, or he turns out to be a Republican and you voted for Hillary.
The point I’m making is, fantasy is always better than reality because it’s exactly what you want it to be. So I kept waiting for the point where I discovered that Tom chewed with his mouth open, or smoked, or thought that Kim Kardashian was the height of sexiness.
And it never came. He wound up being better than my fantasies, the gorgeous English bastard. We kept trading embarrassing childhood stories, favorite movie quotes, and opinions on everything from politics to whether or not Benedict Cumberbatch had green or grey eyes (“Look, I met him, and I tell you they’re green. When he’s not playing Sherlock or Doctor Strange he’s a ginger, right? All those soulless bastards have green eyes”). At one point he made me laugh so hard I had to hang onto a lamp post in order to stop myself from peeing. I returned the favor a block down, causing a couple of perfectly tanned and coiffed matrons to sniff in disapproval as he howled in glee. A few younger women pulled out their phones and took pictures. I was tempted to do my best Xena pose in front of him, but he just giggled and pulled me away, wiping tears from his own beautiful brown eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he chortled. “If the worst they can post to Twitter is a picture of me laughing my arse off, I’m well away.”
I winced. “I didn’t think about that, sorry. Most people don’t bother to take pictures of me unless I’m playing grabass with home goods at Target.”
“Oh, God, we need to do that,” he said, instantly enthusiastic. “Do you go into the Christmas department in December and spell out rude words with the initialed stockings?”
I stared at him. “I have never been so turned on as I am right now. Will you marry me?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Christ yes. Can I add your last name to mine? I always wanted a hyphenated name like the aristos.”
“Morrison-Nayar. I like it,” I decided. “Or do you want to go with Morrison-DeVries?”
“I suppose all three would be a bit much?”
“Lazy-ass Westerners,” I chided. “Morrison-Nayar-DeVries is nothing next to Balasubramaniam.”
“Morrison-Nayar-DeVries it is, then.” He threw an arm around my shoulders and hugged me as we went into yet another elegant men’s clothing store. “Come along, Mrs. Morrison-Nayar-DeVries-to be. I believe I was promised kisses in return for trying on more blasted suits.”
“As it is written, so shall it be done.”
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When Writers Burn Out
Not flame out — that’s a different blog post. But burnout is a real thing, especially for writers who have to hit deadline after deadline in quick succession and then wind up wanting to set their writing device on fire.
Or is that just me? Maybe it’s just me. See, I spent the last four months of 2017 pretty much glued to my computer cranking out Lady of Thorns and Red Robin and the Huntsman, plus getting work done on Cross Current. After I uploaded Red Robin to Amazon on December 15, my brain said, “Okay, you’re done for the year. No writing until January 1. I mean it.”
And Lord, the idea appealed. So I actually enjoyed my Christmas/New Year break because I wasn’t getting up and immediately chaining myself to my writing desk. I cleaned, made cookies and fruitcake, and even dug out an old afghan project that I’d started in 2013 and worked on it while watching movies and TV shows. Bliss.
But then January rolled around and I started work on my first conteporary romcom, To My Muse … and ran into a problem. I couldn’t make myself stick to working the way I had with my other still. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was writing a romcom instead of a SF/fantasy/paranormal romance. I didn’t think so because I was enjoying what I was doing, but man, I just did not want to nail my butt to a chair anymore.
At that point I remembered that I had promised my BFF’s husband that I would make him a sterling silver and turquoise bracelet in memory of his grandmother. I headed out to the garage on a relatively warm day in February and set out the things I would need to make this piece, and promptly realized that 1) I’d never bezel set a stone before, 2) I needed some twisted wire and black guilder’s wax, and 3) I also didn’t know how to rivet leather for the wristband part.
Research time. So I went off and watched videos on bezel creation and setting (Thank you, Online Jewelry Academy and Professor John Ahr!), and wound up making these for practice:
To my surprise, a friend saw the first one and insisted on buying it. I didn’t like how I’d folded over the bezel wall or set the loops on the second one, so I reset it. A friend then bought THAT one. Wow.
Confident that I now had the hang of bezel making down, I got to work on the turquoise bracelet piece. If I do say so myself, it turned out pretty well.
But THEN I thought, “Well, hey, I have this nifty piece of Picasso marble that would make a great pendant, and I should try and set that. Ooh, and I can cut out the Stark sigil in back and call it Winterfell.” So I did.
A third friend saw it and bought it. Whoa.
At this point I realized that I was looking at a ginormous Amex bill at the beginning of March because I had paid for two website renewals and a membership to a local romance con. Since I’d already sold three pendants, I thought I would keep making more and hopefully sell them so that I could pay off said Amex bill (BTW, the blue aventurine and tiger’s eye pendants are still available at my Etsy store. The etched brass pendant was my first attempt at salt water etching, and will be going to a friend’s daughter as a “magic” amulet).
Suddenly it was March and I realized I hadn’t done any serious writing since late January. And my writing brain was starting to get itchy. So I got back to work on To My Muse and started the third novella in my Esposito County Shifters series, Shifter Woods: Snarl this week, and man, that felt good.
So, yeah, sometimes I need to take a little break from the writing, especially if I’ve been pushing myself for months at a time. But I promise you, I’ll always come back to it. And I may have some pretty sparklies to offer as well.
Nicola Cameron Writes 