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Mid Week Tease: To My Muse #MidWeekTease #MWTease

MWTease15Hello, lovelies! This week I’m teasing you with a snippet from my very first contemporary romcom, To My Muse. LA tech writer by day and romance novelist by night, Lily Nayar is still recovering from being dumped by her screenwriter boyfriend. When she gets loaded one night with her BFF and tweets to hot British actor Tom Morrison about the romance novel he inspired, hijinks ensue! In this scene, Lily is posing as Tom’s girlfriend (it’s complicated), and they need to get some details straight before they head off to Palm Springs for an important party.

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!

I made it back to the hotel a few minutes before Tom showed up in the lobby. I’d been entertaining myself with spotting various actors and trying to remember the first time I’d ever seen them when he strode in, a classy black wheelie case rolling behind him.

“Good, you’re here,” he said, sounding relieved as he dropped into the chair next to me. “I thought we should take the opportunity to get our notes straight, make it look like we’ve known each other for longer than six hours.”

“Works for me,” I agreed. “Who starts?”

He gestured towards me. “Ladies first.”

“Okay.” What had Kirk known about me (apart from the fact that I was a damn better writer than him)? “Um, I’m Lily Nayar, I’m twenty-seven, I graduated from USC, I live in an apartment in Highland Park, I don’t have any pets, and I write fantasy romance novels as Lilian DeVries, as you know.”

“As I know,” he said, smiling. “Rather naughty ones.”

He had noticed the sex scenes. Damn. “Anyway,” I said after clearing my throat, “I have a younger brother named Derek, and my mom and dad are still together. What else would my boyfriend know?”

He considered. “Ethnic background?”

Good point, and a graceful way of asking. “Mom’s white, Dad’s first-generation American. His parents are from Mumbai, hers are from Pasadena. You can imagine the holiday dinners. What about you?”

He sat back in his chair, scratching his chin. “Well, you know my name. Which is my real one, by the way. Born in Swansea, raised in London. Dad died when I was twelve, after which Mum raised me with Aunt Margery and my sisters.”

I felt a twinge of sympathy at that. I might fight with Dad sometimes, but I’m damned glad he’s here. “When you say Aunt Margery, are we talking an actual blood relation, or your mom’s girlfriend that they gave a familial title to in order to ward off a homophobic society that wouldn’t accept their love?”

His smile turned into a grin. “I like you. No, actual relation, although I suspect Aunt Margery wasn’t adverse to a bit of flannel. Went to a comprehensive secondary school—I think you’d call that junior and senior high over here—before heading off to the University of Manchester, where I studied history with a view towards teaching it until I was seduced by the drama department.”

“So you didn’t go to RADA?”

Ooh, he raised an eyebrow at me. I love men who can do that. “No, I didn’t go to RADA, mainly because I didn’t have the money. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with the University of Manchester’s drama department. Cumberbatch went there, you know.”

Well, if it was good enough for Sherlock, it was good enough for me. “And after you graduated?”

“Went back to London, split my time between being a substitute teacher and acting in anything that would hire me, and finally got my break in a tea commercial, if you’d believe it. Through that and a very clever agent, I sit before you now as one of a number of interchangeable British actors currently occupying Hollywood.” He spread his hands in a “ta-da” gesture.

I pretended to study him. “Got news for you, dude. You’re not interchangeable.”

“Ha. I regularly get mistaken for Ben Barnes, Tom Ellis, and Sam Claflin, and I don’t even have the same color eyes as Sam. English actors of my age and facial type are about as interchangeable as Lego, especially in Hollywood. It’s one of the reasons why I want to do this movie and get some experience in producing.”

I could see that. “Do you want to get out of acting?”

“God, no. I love acting. I want to keep doing it as long as I can. But unless the heavens bless you with a lucky break, the real money and power are in producing.” His expression softened, turning reflective. “That makes me sound like an arsehole, doesn’t it? I’m not in it for the money per se. I just want to make sure Mum and Auntie Margery are taken care of, as well as my sisters. I promised Dad I’d look after them.”

Oh, I heard that. My paternal grandparents came from India with nothing but a cousin willing to sponsor them. Taking care of family was woven into my DNA. “Okay, we’re both driven overachievers who love our families and are determined to support ourselves in a crazy business. No wonder we make such a good couple,” I said. “So that’s personal info done—how long have we been dating?”

“Let’s say two months? Makes it sound like we’re a bit more established that way.”

“Works for me.” And that way I could mentally blank out that last month with the dickhead. “How did we meet?”

“You’re the writer,” he pointed out. “What’s a good meet cute for us?”

Okay, Romance Writer Brain, go to work. “How about … my car overheated on the 110 and you stopped to help me,” I offered.

“Suicidal but very noble of me,” he agreed. “I like it. Go on.”

“And I almost called the cops on you, thinking you were trying to assault me.”

He snorted in appreciation. “But then you recognized me from TV and let me take you out for coffee while the tow truck hauled your car off to a nearby garage.” He pronounced it GAR-aj. “You do drink coffee, yes?”

“I’m a writer. Caffeine makes up seventy-five percent of my blood volume,” I said. “I think that’s a plausible meet cute for LA.”

“Sounds good to me.” Now he looked hesitant. “Er, we’d probably be publicly affectionate by this time. How much physical contact are you willing to engage in?”

A little thrill went through me, until I remembered that he was an actor and had to negotiate this with actresses all the time. “Holding hands, totally fine,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Arm around my shoulders and occasional hugging is cool. Kissing…” Aaaand there went my brain into vapor lock. “Um, I’ve never kissed someone I wasn’t actually dating. What do you think would be acceptable?”

He looked at my mouth, and his own curved slightly. “Let’s make this warm but discreet. The occasional peck on the cheek or temple, and one affectionate kiss with no tongues in front of Nathan. Sound reasonable?”

Kissing Tom Morrison would never sound reasonable to me. Unbelievable, amazing, addicting, yes, but not reasonable. “Yes.”

“Good.” Those cappuccino eyes twinkled now. “Do you want to do it once here, just so that we get the hang of it? Plus if anyone spots us, it’ll help deflect any more sneak attacks from Claudine.”

Crap. I could feel my cheeks heating up. “Um, how…”

“Just lean forward.”

Stamping down on my inner gibbering fangirl, I did as he asked. He mirrored me, cupping my cheek. “Relax,” he murmured, then touched his lips to mine.

It … was not what I expected. I thought it would feel fake, somehow, that I’d be able to tell he was acting. But it felt like I was kissing someone who was genuinely interested in me. Plus he smelled amazing, and his mouth was just the right amount of soft, warm, and mostly dry, definitely not Kirk’s sex beast technique. And there was the strangest little tingle that spread through my lips, like Tom was touching a live wire as our mouths met. Yet another romance trope that turned out to be true.

He held it for maybe two seconds, then pulled back. It was hard to tell with brown irises but I was pretty sure his pupils had dilated, turning his eyes even darker. Maybe he’d felt a tingle as well.

Without a word, we started to lean towards each other again—

“Sorry to interrupt your tête-à-tête, children, but our winged conveyance awaits,” a cultured British voice said cheerfully.

I have never wanted to kill an Oscar-winning actor so much in my life.


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To My Muse: Day Three

I probably should have started this on Monday but what the heck — I’ve made word quota every day and that’s what counts. So far I’m a skosh over 10% finished, have three chapters, Lily has just gone from “Oh, my God, I’m about to get arrested and thrown into jail for breaking and entering” to “Oh, my God, Tom the cute actor who inspired my fantasy romance wants me to do a spec script for him AND it’s a story squarely in my wheelhouse AND my barracuda of a BFF just negotiated a hella decent contract for me,” and I’m about to throw a wrench into the proceedings with the high-powered actor Tom desperately wants to sign for his film. I’m so happy I got over my reluctance to put my characters through the wringer. I am a dark goddess, and all shall love me and despair.

Also, out of sheer amusement, I would up transferring the text message section I blogged about yesterday into an app that creates fake iPhone 7 text messages. That was fun!

Mid Week Tease: To My Muse #MidWeekTease #MWTease

MWTease15Hello, lovelies! This week I’m teasing you with a snippet from my very first contemporary romcom, To My Muse. LA tech writer by day and romance novelist by night, Lily Nayar is still recovering from being dumped by her screenwriter boyfriend. When she gets loaded one night with her BFF and tweets to a hot British actor about the romance novel he inspired, hijinks ensue! 

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!

I pulled out the various receipts I’d saved up so that I could reconcile my checkbook (yet another ingrained habit from Dad). Supermarket, gas, Starbucks, sushi, Starbucks, Rite-Aid, Starbucks, I really had to do something about my triple venti nonfat latte habit—

Post office. I frowned at the receipt. I couldn’t remember mailing anything. But according to the piece of paper in my hand I had sent a package to…

Beverly Hills.

Why the hell would I send a package to Beverly Hills? For that matter, what the hell would I send to Beverly Hills?

The receipt was from Sunday night. A vague memory of me hunting for a padded envelope drifted into focus. Curious (okay, and maybe just a little worried), I opened a browser and checked the tracking number on the USPS’s website. Whatever I’d sent, it had been received Tuesday morning.

Attached to the receipt was a sticky with an address on it in my handwriting. Google informed me that the address was an agent’s office, Bryce Lambert Talent. I’d heard of them before–one of their main stars had just landed a new series on HBO–but I couldn’t figure out why I’d send something to them.

An image of the shot glasses and the open box of books came to me. Oh, God. I didn’t get loaded and send them a copy of one of my books, did I? Great. Now some junior agent would think I was an unprofessional idiot. Just what I needed. But why the hell would I send something to Bryce Lambert, of all agencies?

There was only one thing to do. I texted Theresa.

Did I mail something on Sunday night?

A minute later the response arrived:

Yup. I got an Uber for us. Don’t you remember?

Uh, no. That’s why I’m asking.
What did I mail to a talent agency in Beverly Hills?

A copy of FEAST OF LOVERS.

Fuck fuck fuck. I wanted to pound my head on the desk top.

Why did you let me do that? They don’t handle writers.

Before she could reply, a drop-down message appeared, telling me that I had a DM on Twitter from—

I stared at my phone. You ever read how a character’s heart stops when they’re shocked by something? That really happens. I literally felt my heart stop as I read that eensy message that said I had a DM from Tom Morrison waiting for me.

Tom Morrison. Tom “British Sex on a Stick” Morrison, who had just walked onscreen at this very moment dressed in tight pants and that gorgeous smile. The actor who had inspired my hero Drake Montmorency in Feast of Lovers. The man I guiltily followed on Twitter because it took my mind off of Kirk being a dickhead. It had to be a prank, some fake account using his name.

It took forever to open Twitter, then hit the little envelope icon, my fingers were trembling so hard. But there it was, with the little blue check mark verifying that my newest DM was indeed from Tom Morrison.

Hey Lilian! Thanks so much for sending me FEAST OF LOVERS. I’m really flattered that I inspired an actual book, and I’m bringing it with me on location to read. I’ll give you a book report when I get back!

It took me a couple of seconds to start breathing again, and I flinched when I saw Theresa’s message pop up.

You really don’t remember?

DID I SEND A COPY OF FEAST OF LOVERS TO TOM FUCKING MORRISON???

Okay, you do remember.

THERESA, THIS IS VERY VERY IMPORTANT.
WHAT IN THE NAME OF GANESH DID WE DO SUNDAY NIGHT?

Well, we were drinking margs and then started doing shots.
Then you checked Twitter and saw that Tom had posted something.
So you pinged him and told him about FEAST.

IS THAT ALL?

Why are you yelling?

THERESA.

Okay. I may have suggested that you send him a copy.
You did dedicate it to him, after all.
And Montmorency is basically him in fantasy baron drag.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

Is your caps lock broken?

Oh god oh god oh god. What else did I do?

He pinged you back a couple of minutes later with his agent’s address.
You signed a copy of the book, packed it up,
and we got an Uber to that all-night PO.

Did he get it?

Yes.

Good!

GOOD? GOOD? WHY IS THIS GOOD?

Capslock.

Theresa, there are sex scenes in that book.

I know! Rowr!

Really explicit, filthy sex scenes.
And apparently I told him that he not only inspired my hero,
but the whole damn book.

So?

So he’s going to think I’m a huge perv
who writes jack off fantasies about him!

Well, there’s a plot, too.

You’re. Not. Helping.

Sorry.
Look, did he actually say he was going to read it?

Yes.

Huh. Well, he was probably just being polite.
Actors get this sort of thing all the time.
Don’t worry about it.

I stared at those cool, logical words on my screen. Don’t worry about it. Like I was ever going to do that. I had just outed myself as a sexually perverse fangirl to an actor. But I shouldn’t worry about it. I had made a complete and utter fool of myself to a lovely, polite, and absolutely smoking hot man. But I shouldn’t worry about it. Even though I wrote about him and Clarinda using a—oh, God.

I need to get the book back.

Little late for that, my dear.

They say that desperation is the mother of invention. Turns out they’re right.

No, no it’s not. He said he’s taking it with him on location.
I think GS was supposed to start shooting this week.
All I have to do is find out where he’s staying,
get into his hotel room, and steal the book back.

Are you NUTS?

I can do this. And you’re going to help me.


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Marvelous Monday Reads: Love Thaws a Frozen Heart

Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, angels! Today I’m featuring Valerie J. Clarizio and her re-release of her Yooper short story romance Love Thaws a Frozen Heart. Take it away, Valerie!


Sometimes a trip down memory lane is what it takes to fall back in love.

Casey is hell bent on getting Noah to sign divorce papers. Hiding out at his camp, Noah is hell bent on not signing. Procuring a snowmobile, Casey sets out in a blinding snow storm to find him. After crashing, she is near death when Noah finds her. Will a few cabin-bound days cause either of them to change their mind?

 

 

 

 


Where to Buy

Amazon | Books2Read | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes


About the Author

Valerie Clarizio lives in romantic Door County Wisconsin with her husband and two extremely spoiled cats. She loves to read, write, and spend time at her cabin in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

She’s lived her life surrounded by men, three brothers, a husband, and a male Siamese cat who required his own instruction manual. Keeping up with all the men in her life has turned her into an outdoors enthusiast, of which her favorite activity is hiking in national parks. While out on the trails, she has plenty of time to conjure up irresistible characters and unique storylines for her next romantic suspense or sweet contemporary romance novel.

Website/Blog | Newsletter | Facebook | Twitter | Google+ | Pinterest | Amazon

Marvelous Monday Reads: Abel’s Obsession

Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, pumpkins! Today I’m featuring Lynn Burke and her hot new romance novel Abel’s Obsession. And now, here’s Lynn to answer some questions!

Abel Beiler’s story came about while visiting my parents in Amish country this past April. While leaving for home early Sunday morning, I pulled up to a stop sign at a four-way intersection as horses labored to pull their Amish owners and families in their buggies to Sunday worship. 

One young man in an open buggy sat to my right at the stop sign, unsmiling, leaning forward, elbows on knees and reins slack in his hands. I had this overwhelming urge to smile at him, trying to bring a little sunshine to his miserable countenance. 

My plan didn’t work, and even though I was in an SUV with 3 children, the idea of Abel and Dani slammed into my brain, occupying my thoughts the whole way home. I voice-to-text in my phone’s notepad off and on the entire seven hour ride back to Massachusetts as Abel whispered his struggle to find himself in my brain.

Abel’s Obsession is by far the raunchiest story I’ve written to date, and I’m hoping the most eye-opening as well. An oppressed life isn’t a joyful one, and finding the strength to free yourself isn’t always easy. Neither is the choice to take wing and fly.


A young man of religious fervor and self-control, Abel Beiler has every intention of honoring his parents and being baptized into the Amish church. The woman with red curls and flashing green eyes in the back of a convertible, however, makes Abel wonder what life with the English might be like.

He strives to withstand temptation, but the memory of the woman he yearns to dominate, coupled with the explicit images in his cousin’s filthy magazine, threatens his restraint.

Red, his sinful obsession, haunts his shameful dreams and becomes a secret part of his life. When faced with truth beyond faith, Abel must decide where he belongs—with the Amish community, or the woman who owns his heart.

 


Story Excerpt

Much later and hoarse from singing for two hours, my curiosity overrode my better sense, and I followed Eli into the hayloft of their barn. While I held the kerosene lamp, he climbed high into the rafters and returned with a magazine clutched in his hand.

“Got this from my new English friend, Toby.” He sat on a bale, opened the magazine, and turned it toward me.

Lust kicked me in the gut, and I couldn’t speak.

A naked woman lay spread eagle and bound by ropes to a bed, a blindfold and some sort of ball gag in her mouth. A man loomed over her, whip in hand. Tear streaks lined the woman’s face. Red slashes marked her thighs. Wetness coated the pink folds of her sex, glistening, and set my mouth to watering.

The image burned into my brain—submission in an entirely different way than the Old Order’s definition of the word. Spirituality is submission, is what had been reiterated in my ears since childhood. Self-surrender. The willingness to give up oneself to the community and Gott’s chosen leaders.

I soaked in the sinful picture, and for the first time in my life wanted power. Wanted control. I wanted a woman’s submission like the man in leather beside her owned. Unable to tear my gaze off the image, I struggled to swallow.

“Didn’t know people actually did this shit.”

Eli’s curse, the first I had heard from him, barely registered past the blood rushing in my ears. My body tensed as longing to be the man standing over that woman, whip in hand raced through me faster than any thoroughbred—or car.

The image of Red flashed in my mind, and suddenly it was her bound to the bed in the picture, breathing heavily, trembling, and begging for me…


Where to Buy

Evernight Publishing | Amazon US | Amazon UK


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.

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Amazon | Instagram | Goodreads

Wicked Wednesday Reads: Lost Faith

Welcome to another edition of Wicked Wednesday Reads, petals! Today I’m here with April Zyon and her smouldering new romance Lost Faith, available from online purveyors of fine romance. Take it away, ma’am!


Gabriella Moreno was just a job, in and out to gain the objective, the death of her father. She turned out to be far more than that to Tobias Casey, however, from the moment he laid his hands on her too hot for words body.

Gabriella had just come home from a two-year stint abroad. The first night home she snuck out, never dreaming for even a moment anyone would be stupid enough to take her. Boy, was she wrong.

Faced with brutal truths, Gabbie followed her gut, and her heart, which, it seemed, all led to one place, Tobias. The heat of her homeland was nothing compared to the touch of this man. In his arms, she found something she had craved all her life, the other half of her soul.

Yet, how can she ignore the fact that the man who owns her heart is also the man who wants to take the last of her family?


Story Excerpt

Another day, another dollar. Only these days, Tobias and his team were getting paid a hell of a lot more than they had been in the military. Now they could set their own fees for doing the jobs that no one else wanted to do, or maybe couldn’t do, since they did on rare occasion work for their government’s shadier sectors. But there was no oversight, no backseat driving, and they paid big to get shit done.

Their current operation was one they’d been working on for nearly three weeks now with no success. The first week had been recon, getting oriented, and making sure they had their exits memorized for when they achieved their strike.

The only thing was, as they’d discovered during week two, the target they were after didn’t ever leave his super secure compound. Not that Tobias could blame the guy. Their target was a dictator, an arms dealer, a drug dealer, and a mass murderer. There were people worldwide hoping that Tobias’ team finally managed to do what no one else had to date.

Now it was week three and they were still watching the compound to figure out their way in. Or as Tobias was beginning to believe would be easier, how to get the asshole to come out. They’d tried forty different ways to infiltrate the compound. None had worked. Which actually made sense, given the target, Juan Moreno, or Senor X as they referred to him over com, had hired himself an ex-Special Forces soldier to be the head of his security. Tran Quan was American born but had ties to the Yakuza. Extra weight to be brought to bear should it be requested.

Taking a small drink from his canteen, Tobias ignored the sweat trickling down his spine. His attention was locked on a small group of vehicles approaching the compound. Binoculars up, he brought the lead car into focus and easily recognized one of Moreno’s drivers.  His attention moving to the second car, he was surprised to see Quan in the front passenger seat. The man was normally glued to Moreno’s side so to see him out without Moreno… this was big.

“Ripper, we have four cars approaching the compound. I need to know who exits the second car once they stop inside. Get pictures.”

“Roger that, Rogue.”

Ripper and Cherry were up on the mountain using some seriously high-powered tools to stare down into the compound. Their position was treacherous since they were, literally, dangling off the face of that mountain. One wrong move and they’d be headed straight down toward death.

“They’re turning toward the gate now. Not stopping either, they’ve been waved right through,” Tobias reported. The gates slid shut but not before he spotted a slender leg wearing a dainty shoe at the end slipping out of the door being opened by a guard. Instantly, he felt his gut clench in need to see the body went with that limb.

A soft whistle came through the com. “Damn, she’s fucking hot. Think she’s banging senor X?” Herc asked.

“Too young for him, you oaf,” Cherry said.

“Like that would stop the old fucker. We all know he doesn’t care about age. One of the reasons why we’re here to see him shot,” Herc told her. “Personally, it’s my only reason to see his head explode under the impact of my bullet.”

“Cut the chatter. Tell me you have photos for everyone that came in those vehicles.”

“Confirmed,” Ripper said.

“Good, get your asses down from there. Scout will be here to relieve me soon, then we need to get back and review everything.” Tobias was hopeful that somewhere in those photos he might find a way to pull Moreno away from his security blanket.


Where to Buy

Amazon US | Amazon CA | Amazon UK | Amazon AU


About the Author

Having been a lover of the written word all her life April has always wanted to expand her horizons and write something that could be shared with the world. Only one thing held April back, the fact that the letters and numbers mixed and jumbled more often than not. Diagnosed with Dyslexia when she was eight years old April had to work her butt off just to be able to keep up with the other kids in reading and writing, so her love for fictional writing was tossed to the wayside for the moment.

Time marched on, as it always does, and she forgot her childhood dream of becoming an author and instead focused on what she had to – creating a career for herself. As the endless waves of time passed the shores became less rocky and more sandy, a place where she could find an even foot. That and Microsoft invented Word. Hallelujah. This is where April began her journey into the written world, the world that her imagination had been ceaselessly creating for her entire adult life.

Now she has been given a chance to let her literary wings unfold and fly, thanks to the amazing publishers with Evernight Publishing and Secret Cravings Publishing. Now its time to let the dream take flight and watch it soar.

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Wicked Wednesday Reads: Missing The Crown Jewels

Welcome to another edition of Wicked Wednesday Reads, petals! Today I’m here with Valerie J. Clarizio and her lovely new romance Missing the Crown Jewels (A Chandler County Novel), available from online purveyors of fine romance. Take it away, ma’am!


After a devastating divorce, Peyton Crown is finally surfacing from a dark hole of despair. She finds herself hoping for a new life with Mason ‘Storm’ Starr, her brother’s best friend.

Storm’s intent is simple: hide in the quiet confines of his best friend’s family horse ranch in Kentucky. The perfect place to sort out his life after walking away from the Army, and fight his internal demons. His solitude is interrupted by his buddy’s little sister. The chemistry between them is off the charts, and he willing surrenders the battle.

The Crown family begins receiving threats, just weeks before the Kentucky Derby. The overprotective men in Peyton’s life vow to keep 24/7 tabs on her and the family’s prize horse—Prince Bourbonville—a hopeful for the next Triple Crown. Circumstances arise that threaten to keep Peyton and Prince away from the derby, but Storm and her brother Coach are determined they’ll attend, no matter the sacrifice.


Story Excerpt

Peyton reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. “You’re a good man, Mason Starr. You’re kind, caring, and loyal. There’s not enough time in the world for me to describe all the good qualities you possess.”

His heart hammered in his chest. The conviction in her eyes and her tone gave him no doubt she really believed he had the qualities she mentioned, but the sound of his real name rolling off her tongue is what did him in.

His arms flew around her, and his lips crushed down on hers. The passion she met him with was equally as strong, wicked, unbelievable. He pulled her body tight to his. The curves of her soft breasts pressed against him. She parted her lips, inviting him in. Her flavor seeped into him, amplifying the whirlwind of sensations already ripping through every cell in his body.

Their tongues tangled. Her hands slid over his bare arms, leaving a burning path in their wake. She gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer. His fingers found the hem of her short nightgown and slid up underneath it until both hands filled with the soft curves of her ass. He lifted her, and her feet left the floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Good God, why had he waited so long to kiss her—hold her? Every nerve ending in his body was on fire, and it felt phenomenal.

He stepped over to the bed and sat with her on his lap. Her sex pressed to his erection. When she lifted her arms, he pulled her nightgown over her head. The plump, round breasts in front of him called out to his mouth. His mouth clamped onto her breast, and when his tongue flicked over her beaded, raspberry nipple, she groaned and wound her fingers through his hair, pulling his head tightly to her breast. As he suckled on that delicacy, he filled his hand with her other breast and kneaded. She ground herself against him.

He pulled his mouth from her breast and fastened it to the other, then he wrapped an arm around her waist and lowered his other hand, slipping it under the band of her silky panties to cup her wet mound. Her scent filled the room, tantalizing his nostrils, heightening his desire—need. When he slipped a finger into her moist channel, her breath hitched. The insertion of his second finger caused her to moan delightfully into the thick air. He wanted to hear that sexy, erotic sound again; and he would, several times before this night was over.

Peyton’s hands dug into his shoulders as he moved his fingers inside her and circled her swollen clit with his thumb. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as she ground against his hand. Her breaths came quicker with each flick of her nub of nerves. Then a little louder. Her lids fluttered open. The dark gaze staring at him was filled with desire.

He circled that little peak once more then pressed on it, and she exploded. The walls of her channel clamped down on his fingers, and her alluring cries of pleasure echoed in the air.

She floated forward, wrapping her arms around him. Her tiny, limp body relaxed into him. Her warm breath blew across the side of his neck. He pulled his fingers from her and enveloped her in his arms. The beating of her heart thudded against him. He wondered if she could feel his as well.

“Peyton.”

“Hmm?” she responded as she burrowed in tighter. “I just need a minute.”

He’d give her a minute to recover, but he was by no means done with her yet. He kissed the top of her head. After a moment, she edged back. The dreamy dark gaze that connected with his looked completely satisfied. Though her swollen red lips looked thoroughly kissed, he needed his lips back on hers. Leaning in, he took her mouth, working to keep it slow, seductive, meaningful.


Where to Buy

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo


About the Author

Valerie Clarizio lives in romantic Door County Wisconsin with her husband and two extremely spoiled cats. She loves to read, write, and spend time at her cabin in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

She’s lived her life surrounded by men, three brothers, a husband, and a male Siamese cat who required his own instruction manual. Keeping up with all the men in her life has turned her into an outdoors enthusiast, of which her favorite activity is hiking in national parks. While out on the trails, she has plenty of time to conjure up irresistible characters and unique storylines for her next romantic suspense or sweet contemporary romance novel.

Website/Blog | Facebook | Facebook Street Team | Bookbub | Twitter | Google+
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Fabulous Friday Reads: Illicit Relations #audiobook #audible #gay #romance

TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with Lucy Felthouse’s almost-but-not-quite taboo M/M erotic romance novella, Illicit Relations, now available in audiobook format. Narrated by voice artist Nick Dee, you can now listen to this coming-out romance on the go!


Terry’s had a crush on his second cousin Justin for what seems like forever. He’s hidden it as well as possible, knowing that the other man is out of bounds, forbidden fruit. Second cousins getting together isn’t actually illegal, but for Justin the relationship is too close—he just can’t contemplate them being together.

But when some new information comes to light about Terry’s birth and his place in the family, the whole game changes. Suddenly the relationship isn’t so impossible, and things soon begin to get hot and heavy.

Praise for Illicit Relations

“One of the sweeter stories as it unfolded of the M/M romance that I have read, the sex is hot and steamy, and enhanced by the POV of the characters in the wonder of the moment, and the descriptions used. At just over 60 pages, this isn’t a long and complicated read, but a quick reading story that gives detail and breath to the characters, and provides some incredibly steamy moments for readers, leaving everyone with a smile.” 4 out of 5, The Jeep Diva

“Lucy has done it again with another great story that both entertain and enjoyable to read. Surprises are plenty in this quick read. Solid 4 star read.” In the Pages of a Good Book

“I would highly recommend this to anyone who is looking for a short, highly erotic and romantic read. Illicit Relations would appeal to readers of both sexes.” 4 out of 5, Blood, Lust and Erotica


Where to Buy

Amazon UK | Amazon US | Audible UK | Audible US | iTunes UK | iTunes US

eBook available here: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/illicit-relations/


About the Author

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9.

Release blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.

Nicola’s Sunday Shoutout: L.D. Blakeley #MMRomance #ContemporaryRomance @LDBlakeley

Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to my delightful sister in crime L.D. Blakeley, who  just released her revised and expanded contemporary M/M romance Best Worst Ever with a fantastic new cover. Take it away, L.D.!

Thanks for having me on today to tell you about Best Worst Ever. This story was my very first to be published so it will always hold a special place in my heart. I recently had my rights reverted, and knew I didn’t want this novella to simply fade away. So I decided to give my boys a bit of a spruce-up. I redid the cover art, revised and edited the story and made it available once more. I hope you enjoy. 🙂


Carey English spends his days planning extravagant parties and lavish weddings and generally making people’s lives brighter. He spends his nights wishing for a man he doesn’t have to share and who won’t try to drag him back into the closet. It doesn’t help that the man he wants most doesn’t need a closet to begin with — his straight best friend, Sky.

Skyler Wood has been dumped — again — just days before the holiday season, leaving him with an ex-fiancée, a nonrefundable New Year’s Eve getaway rental, and nothing to ring in the New Year but a broken heart. For Carey, rushing off to offer Sky a shoulder will either be the best decision he’s ever made—or it will lead to the worst heartbreak he’s ever experienced.

✽ This is an edited & revised version of a previously published story. It has been expanded by approximately 1,400 words. ✽


Story Excerpt

If there was one thing he knew about Sky, it was that he was as frugal as the day was long. And, judging by the other places he’d passed along the way, he was guessing the impressive exterior of this place matched a rather swanky, if not romantic, interior. Of course, idiot. Sky had rented the place thinking he’d be with his fiancée. Not his best friend.

He parked next to his friend’s SUV and stubbornly grabbed more than he could carry at once. Why make two trips when you can do it in one? Necessity might be the mother of invention, but laziness was definitely its big, bad daddy. Laden down with a suitcase and far too many bags of food and liquor, Carey used the toe of his boot to gently knock at the front door. “Sky? You in there? My hands are full, man, come open the door.” When there was no response, he tried again with the tip of his boot. “Mr. Darcy, are—”

His sentence was cut short as the door flew open. “Jesus! Hold your horses, Logan. I couldn’t hear you with the water running. I was just in the…”

Shower. He’d been in the shower. Carey knew this, not because he suddenly had the ability to read minds. Oh, no. He knew this because there, in front of him, stood all six foot four inches of Darcy Skyler Wood… dripping wet with nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. Shit.

Don’t stare. Don’t stare at that solitary drop of water as it slowly slides its way between the hard, flat planes of those perfect pecs. And for the love of all that’s holy, do not stare at anything even remotely near the edge of that towel! But Carey never was any good at taking orders.


Reviews

“… hot enough to melt the snow…fun, witty banter…” – Joyfully Jay
“…sexy and lovely.” – Hearts On Fire Reviews
“a great friend to lovers story… a very sweet ending.” – MM Good Book Reviews
“…humorous, and snarky banter…” – My Fiction Nook
“… warm and sensual chemistry together that is just yummy.” – Prism Book Alliance
“…excellent fantasy fodder… sassy!” – Rainbow Book Reviews


Where To Buy

Amazon | Smashwords | iTunes | Kobo | Barnes & Noble


About the Author

A pragmatist with a romantic soul & a dirty mind, L.D. is a fan of horror movies, hot sex, and Happily Ever Afters. Easily distracted by shiny things, she’s a slightly neurotic, highly ambitious dreamer who enjoys dabbling in photography & pretending she can carry a tune.

In another life, L.D. was a newspaper reporter, an entertainment & music writer, travel writer, website content editor, and a marketing shill. Now she prefers to spend her time writing hot, steamy fiction (with a healthy dose of romance) about intriguing, sexy men. Of course, whether these pretty boys end up between the sheets with other gorgeous lads or up against a wall with a spicy and spirited heroine, all depends on which direction her imagination takes her on any given day.

Although she dreams of living some place isolated with an endless supply of wine and an infinite number of titles on her eReader, she currently lives in down-town Toronto with her husband and their rock star cat.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Nicola’s Sunday Shoutout: Matt Burlingame

Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to the lovely and talented Matt Burlingame, whose wonderful new M/M romance Catch a Falling Star is now available from Amazon and other purveyors of romance. And now, here’s Matt!


A therapist once told Martin Stevens that being gay was the only thing that saved him from being the most boring man alive. He spends his daytime working a dead-end job and his nights still pining after the ex-fiance who left him five years ago. When his older brother Daniel takes him to see a touring musical, a mishap sends superstar performer Alec Jameson flying off the stage right into Martin’s lap. It’s love at first sight.

But can that love withstand the scrutiny of the press, a shock-jock radio personality bent on causing trouble, and the return of Martin’s overbearing ex-fiance?

Story Excerpt

Everything about Martin Stevens was average. He lived in an average town in an average house and worked an average job. He was an average height, average weight and wore average clothes. The only thing about him that wasn’t average was that he was gay, which his former psychiatrist once told him saved him from being the most boring man on the planet.

On the day Martin turned 33 years old, his coworkers—none of whom really knew him—gave him a card with his name misspelled. His mother left her annual voice message complaining about his “lifestyle choice” before handing the phone to his dad who told him what a disappointment he had turned out to be.

The only glimmer of hope to bring a smile to Martin’s usually complacent face was his older brother Daniel who was taking him out that night.

When his brother arrived, he gave Martin a card with a nude man on the front making a joke about blowing out his birthday candle, and a bottle of aged whiskey. Since they were taking a cab to get around, Daniel demanded they have a few shots before heading out—a destination he was still keeping a secret.

The two brothers had always been close. Daniel was the first person Martin had come out to, and had always supported and protected him—even from their own father who had once threatened to “beat the gay outta him if need be.”

“So you get anything fun for your birthday?”

Martin shrugged and held up Daniel’s card and the one from his work.

“Who’s Morton?”

Martin pointed to himself and gave a fake smile, then dropped the card into the trash bin.

“That’s it? What about your friends?”

“I don’t have any friends.”

Daniel swallowed his second shot and shook his head. “There’s gotta be someone you hang out with.”

Martin scoffed. “Just Jack and Karen.”

“Work friends?”

“My fish.”

Daniel chuckled. “Ah, little bro … what happened to you? You used to have a lot of friends. What about that girl you were friends with in school? Tracy?”

“Stacey. Haven’t seen her in years.”

“And all the people who came to those parties you and Derrick had when you were together?”

“Derrick’s friends.”

“But you always had people from school coming over.”

Martin took a shot, held it while giving his brother a sideways look, then swallowed hard. “That was the yearbook committee and they only came over because they had crushes on you. Once you graduated, I was kicked off. You were voted most popular. I was the one voted most likely to die alone and be eaten by his cats.”

Daniel couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “You were not!”

“I was! That’s why I have fish. Face it, my life has not exactly been a success story.”

“But you have a steady job, a nice house… fish. You should find a good guy and—”

Martin interrupted, “Adopt some kids, get a divorce, go to a support group.” He rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay.” Daniel poured them a third shot. “One more before we go.” He raised his shot glass. “Here’s to my little bro on his birthday. May he meet the man of his dreams and have a long and happy life together.”

“Cold day in hell, Dan,” Martin said as their glasses clinked together.

Daniel’s phone beeped. “Ride’s here.”

“You never said where we were going.”

“Didn’t I? Huh.” Daniel headed toward the door.

Where To Buy

Amazon

About the Author

Matt Burlingame is an award-winning journalist and playwright, living in Northern California. After 20 years of working for for various LGBT newspapers, websites, and even cohosting a late-night radio show, he has retired from his aspirations of being the gay Murphy Brown to pursue his love of fiction writing. His first book, the self-published dark comedy Sorry Charley, was released in 2012.

He has written and cowritten over ten critically acclaimed plays including Recovery Mode, Poughkeepsie Porn Co., Countess Dracula, and the controversial Paperclip Messiah. His plays have been produced nationally, most notably in New York, and St. Louis.

He has been a well known LGBT podcaster for over 10 years and produced and cohosted shows focusing on comedy writing, world events, comedy, theater, gay sex education and positive body image. With the support and encouragement of his gay cat, and lifelong friend Nephi, he has now immersed himself into the wonderful world of M/M romance.