Yeah, I know. COVID cabin fever is hitting a lot of people at the moment, and Casa Cameron is among those households. Let’s see, what can I tell you?
Needless to say, I didn’t finish Shadow of the Swan or Shifter Woods: Growl in May, as I had hoped. I wound up getting called back to the contract job for a week to wrap up the project I’d been working on, and then I spent about a week cleaning out our garage so that I could refinish that bookcase the cats had peed on, then I got stuck into the actual refinishing, and it turned out so well that I decided to refinish the other bookcase that Ramón’s been hauling around for over thirty years, and the world is on fire due to COVID and the current US administration and climate change and a lot of other things so, yeah.
On the plus side, I’m still working on both books, as well as Uncertainty Principle and King of Blades, depending on how I’m feeling when I get up, so there is progress? It’s just kind of slow. But I’m currently at 32K of a projected 80K on Swan, which pleases me.
I also ran an A/B test on Twitter to get input on two potential covers for Swan:
Cover A turned out to be the more popular one, so I’m probably going to go with it or a very similar variant.
I’m also taking an online class in Indie Publishing 101 from Dean Wesley Smith — yes, I know, I’ve been indie publishing since 2015. But I’m not making nearly the number of sales I should be, so I’m hoping to pick up some tips and tricks from a powerhouse in the indie publishing field because I would really like to sell more books and maybe not have to go back to contract work if I can manage it?
Speaking of the contract job, I’m still on furlough and I don’t see that restarting anytime soon, since a lot of the work I did was for industries that were slammed by COVID and the assorted closings (another reason why I’d really like to make more sales). Ramón is still employed, knock wood, but his job is a contract one and he’s concerned that he may be out of work at a time when a whole bunch of other telecoms people are looking for jobs. If the book sales don’t pick up, I’ll probably start looking for more contract work in August, assuming I can find a place that will let me work remotely.
Health-wise, we’re still good. Because our governor is, well, an idiot, Texas is one of the new COVID hot spots in the nation, so we mask up every time we go out to the store, anything that comes into the house is disinfected, and we change clothes and shower afterwards. Our trips out are limited to store runs and fast food, with the occasional treat such as running the tax prep paperwork to the accountant or hitting the post office after hours (sometimes I have to mail Etsy sales or other stuff, and they have an automated postage machine). Luckily our Kroger is requiring mask usage to enter the store, and 99% of the people I see in there are masked, although there was one maskless woman today who, I shit you not, had the classic Karen hairstyle. Everyone was giving her dirty looks, so hopefully peer pressure will have an effect.
Oh, I learned how to trim Ramón’s hair, thanks to the angel who made this YouTube video. As his hair was getting to Doc Brown stage and it was driving him crazy, he was happy for me to take a crack at it with the clippers. I managed to give him a nice, short, but stylish do (made a couple of mistakes in back, but as he pointed out he didn’t care because nobody but me would be looking at his neck), and I may well keep trimming his hair from here on out. I mean, I already have the clippers, barber’s scissors, and T-outliner, so why not?
That pretty much brings us up to date. I’m going to try and blog more frequently, basically to keep both of us entertained (and up to date on the progress of all the WIPs). One amusing thing that happened today — someone had responded to this tweet:
with the comment, “Alexa, play S&M.” Which reminded me that I really did like that song and should buy it. Which then prompted … let us say … a mental vignette that one could entitle, “My Own Pet Duke.”
I really don’t need to be writing a BDSM Regency right now. I don’t even have an pseudonym for that subgenre (hur hur, see what I did there). Back into the inspiration hutch with you, little plot bunny.
Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, darlings! Today I’m featuring Jacey Holbrand and Elizabeth Monvey and their amazing new SF romance Future, Broken (Project Mars Book 1), now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine online romance. Take it away, ladies!
Thank you for having us on your blog today! We’re so excited to share the release of the first book in our Project Mars series, Future, Broken. For a quick idea about the series, check out this trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HU_Gcf7c5Fs
Book trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YERo1TTJN9c
In the future, be careful who you trust.
Nathaniel Stockton and Grover Silas Ranger are faced with the ultimate test to their relationship when the Project Mars Lottery comes to town. Nate wins a chance to have his dreams come true: live and work on the red planet with his love. His husband Ranger doesn’t see the point of going from one bad place to another. But an evil organization called Sector has a completely different idea for the couple.
Kidnapped, experimented on, impregnated, and sent to Mars, Nate realizes too late he trusted the wrong people.
Ranger fights to find a way to Nate. Will he make it to his love before their dreams and lives are irrevocably broken by distance, a pregnancy, and the corrupt agency?
The phone rang, dragging Nate from his thoughts.
“I’m gonna put it on screen,” Ranger called out from the kitchen.
The wall flashed to life, and a dark-haired man with dark eyes, appeared. The stranger reminded Nate of the doctor at the lottery exams—lab coat, stethoscope, well-groomed—but this man was older and seemed to have an edge to him.
“Hey,” Nate greeted. “What can I do for you?”
“Am I speaking with Nathaniel Curtis Stockton?”
“Yeah.” Nate took a swig of his drink.
“Wonderful.” The man smiled but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “I am Doctor Rafael Trask. I am one of the lead scientists in a series of special clinical studies being performed. I understand you failed the medical section of the lottery exams?”
“Yeah.” The guy’s voice sounded cool … exact. Combined with the discord of his face, Nate sensed an air of danger surrounding the man. Creeped out, Nate was hesitant to say too much.
“Well, first off, let me say, we are not associated with the lottery. But should you participate in our studies you may have another chance at traveling to and settling on Mars. We also offer outstanding compensation. Despite whether you are or are not picked for travel, you will pretty much be set for life.”
Ranger strolled into the room and sat beside Nate, twirling the comm-wand between his fingers. “What are these studies?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
“His husband,” Ranger answered. “Whatever he’s to be involved in, wherever he’s going, I’ll be at his side. What’s all this about?”
Doctor Trask leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. He looked down his nose at the camera on his comm device, appearing to contemplate what Ranger had said and giving Ranger a once-over. The doctor reminded Nate of a vulture.
“Okay,” Trask said. “Like I was about to mention to Mister Stockton, we are trying to find cures for people who did not pass the medical aspects of the lottery exams due to their diseases. We are also looking into the sterility epidemic and chromosomal changes in the female population.”
“Could you hold a moment?” Nate asked, grabbing the wand from Ranger and muting the call. He pointed the wand at the screen. “Do you think this is legit?”
“Yeah. It could be.”
“It might be the answer to our Mars problem.” Nate smiled, feeling a glimmer of warm hope spring up within him again.
“Perhaps. Should we see what’s what with it?”
Nate unmuted the call. “What if we say we’re interested?”
The doctor lifted a corner of his mouth. “I will digitize a package of information to you, and then we will be in touch with further instructions.”
“Well,” Ranger said, “count us interested.”
“Wonderful,” the doctor drawled.
Where to Buy
About the Authors
Jacey Holbrand believes life and love comes in all forms and should be celebrated. She’s committed to her muse and writing so she can share her stories with readers. Hot days. Sexy nights. Come play in her world.
Jacey loves to hear from readers! Click the link to email her.
Elizabeth Monvey is the pseudonym for a single mother from Los Angeles. She writes manlove stories, where the hero meets the man of his dreams because happily ever after is one of her favorite things.
Woohoo, I’m kicking off 2019 with a double re-release! My first publications in January will be two novelettes I originally wrote for Evernight Publishing back in 2013; the rights reverted back to me in 2018, and I’m currently in the process of re-editing them and putting them together for release with Belaurient Press.
The first story, A Boon by Moonlight, is my “boy meets Sidhe/boy asks Sidhe for boon/Sidhe asks for night in boy’s bed” piece. This one has a special place in my heart because I dearly want to go out drinking with these two (Zach could be our designated driver, and Jerrek would throw back vodka like it was water and provide running snarky commentary on everyone else in the bar. It would be great). The re-release will also include the unpublished short story “Snow Day” featuring Zach and Jerrek housebound antics during a polar vortex, so there’s some added value there. It should be out on 1/15 so if you’ve never read this one before you can pick it up then.
And may I just say that I’m freaking in love with this new cover? It screams M/M fantasy romance to me (I still can’t believe I’m writing fantasy romance, but my God it’s fun). Finding the stock image of the model in fantasy garb was a real gift, and the other model works with him extremely well. I may do a couple more tweaks to the image before release day, but what you see here is primarily the finished product.
Oh, funny but true story about the cover — I sent it to a couple of writer friends for feedback. One of them writes SF/fantasy and said, “This is for a fantasy romance story? Because the woman on the right looks like a Vulcan.” I had to explain about Jerrek, after which she said, “Ohhh. In that case, it looks great.” *grin*
The other re-release is Grading the Curve, my “hot for teacher” novelette. Whereas I can get Boon out next week, Curve won’t be out for another two weeks because 1) hoo boy, I learned a lot about characterization and backstory in the last five years, which means 2) this 13K novelette is about to become a 30K novella as I gleefully apply both the Editorial Machete and the Storytelling Spackling Knife with a freaking vengeance (seriously, I re-read the original MSS and was deeply grateful that it sank without a trace. It’s not horrible, mind you, but it was clear I had no idea how to write a good, solid MF romance at that time).
The eagle-eyed among you may have noted the extra name on this cover and want to know who the heck Natasha Stark is. Well, she’s me — as of 2019 I’m using that nom de plume for all of my contemporary romances (and yes, there will be more of them — I’ve got at least four romcoms in mind), and this is my way of introducing her. It’s mainly for marketing purposes, since there doesn’t seem to be a great deal of overlap between contemporary romance readers and SF/fantasy/PN romance readers. I want to make it easy for people to find (and ideally buy) what they want to read, so SF, fantasy, or paranormal romance readers can stick with Nicola’s books, and contemporary romance readers can focus on Natasha’s books.
Oh, God. I’m going to have to set up a totally separate website/social media presence at some point for Natasha, aren’t I? I need a drink…
Meanwhile I’m also working on King of Blades (Two Thrones 4) and Natasha’s next romcom, tentatively titled Screen Kiss, so those should be out in March or so. So many books to write, so little time…
Happy Black Friday, my American peeps! Hope you’ve all recovered from your turkey comas (and for the rest of the world, TGIF!). Let’s kick off the weekend with Lynn Burke’s newest romance Without Condition (Sandy Ridge 3), now available from all online retailers of fine romance. Take it away, Lynn!
Nothing but Kayla’s fingers and not-so-trusty vibrator have given her an orgasm in almost a year, and the one man she’s hell-bent on breaking her losing streak hides behind his badge. Detective “Hottie Pants” Ford thwarts her every attempt at seduction, and even though vandalisms, a trashed apartment, and physical assault keeps throwing them together, he refuses to attempt a relationship ever again.
She sees past his façade into the man hiding his pain behind unbreakable rules and inflexible conditions, but even after the fiery chemistry between them ignites, she struggles to prove to him she is nothing like the woman who jaded him for life.
Heartbroken, Kayla decides on a vacation to help her peace of mind—and ends up at Sandy Ridge. With danger hot on her heels, can the man she turns to first recognize Kayla for who she is? Will he give her the chance she needs to let him know she wants him without condition, before it’s too late?
Detective Ford’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “I can’t do this again.”
“Do what?” Kayla whispered even though he spoke as though to himself.
A muscle in his clenched jaw ticked, and it took him a few seconds to answer.
I’m not her, she thought to argue, but what did he know beyond the truth of her life? A rich young woman over ten years his junior whose daddy spoiled her rotten… Thinking he might turn on his heel and walk out without her even getting a chance to taste his lips twisted Kayla’s stomach.
“I don’t want a house and the picket fence, Detective.” The words spilled from her.
“Jacob,” he murmured, his gaze still on her lips.
“I don’t dream about rainbows and unicorns, Jacob,” Kayla whispered, her mind set on having him, giving her more boldness than usual. “I dream about your skin pressed against mine. Your mouth on my body, giving me what I want.”
He blinked, his gaze jerking up to her eyes, and he lifted his chin just enough, it felt as though he peered down at her. “Tell me what you want, Kayla.”
Alpha and commanding… yes, please. Emboldened, Kayla looked up at him through her lashes.
“I want you to fuck me.”
Jacob worked his jaw and thank fuck, lust rose to shimmer in his eyes.
“I’m not a gentle man.”
“I don’t want gentle.”
“I don’t do the cuddle and pillow talk bullshit after fucking a woman.”
All in, Kayla wasn’t about to hold back.
“Can’t cuddle and pillow talk if you bend me over the table in the back room.”
The man didn’t even flinch. “Conflict of interest, then.”
Kayla huffed a snort and dropped her arms, determined to win her way into the damn man’s slacks. She approached on trembling legs, her heartbeat pounding in her chest. His gray striped tie beckoned to her, and she slid the material between two fingers, trailing downward until she reached the end. Her fingertips rested on his belt buckle, and she lifted her gaze.
“Bullshit excuses,” she whispered.
His breath left in a rush, fanning her face with the scent of wintergreen.
“Jacob.” She quirked the corner of her lip.
War raged in his eyes, tensing his body looming over hers. That jaded, he probably hadn’t been intimate with too many women since his ex.
“Can I touch you?” she asked, breathless as hell and soaked through the bit of satin covering her throbbing pussy. Kayla slowly slid her hand downward, and when Jacob didn’t stop her, she found his cock, hard and heavy along his left thigh.
“You want me.”
His lips pursed, and Kayla squeezed his impressive girth, drawing a groan from his chest deep enough his mouth parted.
“Yes.” The whispered confession left his lips, and he grabbed her, yanking her full against his body. He crushed his mouth to hers before her held breath escaped, his soft yet demanding lips spinning her head. One hand fisted in her hair, Jacob tilted her head, thrusting his tongue between her lips.
Kayla moaned and sagged against him as his tongue swept along hers, tasting and devouring exactly as she’d hoped.
Where to Buy
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.
Happy Wednesday, folks! Today I’m here with Lynn Burke and her hot new romance novella Without Hesitation, now available from online retailers of fine romance. Take it away, Lynn!
Dumped like a bag of misshapen clay four months before her wedding, grade-school art teacher Mindy Hughson has no intention of opening her heart to anyone ever again. Hookups and one-night-stands fill the ache of abandonment—but still leave her wanting.
Attempting to find peace from the shattered pieces of her past, Mindy returns to Sandy Ridge where she’s drawn to the cabin’s owner, Gage Hart. A carefree fling with a ripped hunk of fuck-a-licious beefsteak is just what she needs to fill the emptiness she feels inside. But Gage’s sexy smirk, lone dimple, and deep stare demand more than just the press of her body against his. He wants her love. With his mere presence threatening her resolve to keep things simple, will the pain of her past force her to flee? Or will Mindy dare to open her heart to Gage without hesitation?
Mindy lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, uncaring of the fact her dress rode up, and they stood in a public parking lot. Enough shadow hid her from view, she expected, and if not, she hoped whoever glanced at them enjoyed the show.
The hard ridge of Gage’s cock pressed against her, and the slow gyrating of his hips and thrusting tongue brought a gasp to her lips.
“Keep that hip action up,” she said as he kissed along her jaw, “and I’m going to come.”
“Hot and bothered, huh?” he whispered in her ear, his hot breath sending tingles along her spine.
“I want you.”
“I can’t keep my mind off of you, Mindy. Goddamnit.” Gage returned his lips to hers and slid a hand between them. He groaned as his fingertips rubbed along the wet silk separating their skin. “You’re fucking soaked.”
She wiggled against his hand with a moan. “I’m soaked because of you. I’ve never wanted a man like this before.”
“You’re like a drug…”
“This craving is driving me insane…”
He stared down into her eyes as his finger toyed with the edge of her panties against the inside of her thigh
“Touch me, Gage.”
He shut his eyes. Swallowed. With a groan, he slid his fingers beneath the edge of her panties and stroked up through her wetness. “I want you to come on my hand,” he whispered and leaned down, brushing his lips over hers. “I want your cum dripping off my fingers.”
She moaned and tipped her head back against the window as he slid his finger deep inside of her throbbing pussy. His thumb brushed over her clit, and she gasped, her body bucking against him.
Gage pressed in with a second finger and rubbed across her hard nub. “Come for me, baby.” He captured her lips, and Mindy’s climax ripped through her, his mouth muting her cries.
Her pussy clamped down on this thrusting fingers, trying to pull him deeper.
She whimpered while thrusting to meet him. “Need you,” she gasped, pulling her mouth away from him.
“Fuck.” Gage growled and bit her collarbone while flicking over her clit again.
“Oh, God!” A second climax rippled over Mindy, and she sucked in her lower lip to keep her groans contained.
Gage lifted his hand and licked his fingers clean as she panted for breath, her legs still wrapped tight around him. “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Another rush of arousal swept over Mindy. “I want your cock inside of me, Gage.”
“Goddamn, the way you talk.”
They peered at each other in the darkness, and an ache Mindy recognized clenched her chest. Fucking only, she reminded herself, pushing the feeling away and lowering her wobbly legs.
“Let’s get back to the cabin before I beg to ride you right here in this truck.”
Gage groaned again and stepped back, adjusting himself through his jeans. “Don’t know if I can wait that long.”
“Get in the truck.”
A smirk brought out his dimple, and he pulled open her door, grabbed her purse, and ushered her up into the cab. He slammed the door and rounded the truck, and the second he climbed in, Mindy got onto her knees and reached over the console, her fingers fumbling with his jeans.
Gage slid the driver seat back all the way and took over, his steady hands making short work of unbuttoning his jeans and jerking them down off his hips. He slid his hand down his length, and Mindy bit down on her lip while grabbing a condom from her purse.
She climbed over the console, settling her knees on either side of his hips, and he reached for the condom. “Let me,” she whispered, wiping her thumb over the bead of pre-cum at his tip.
Gage tipped his head back against the headrest, grasping his base and holding his cock out toward her.
She stuck her thumb in her mouth, sucking the salty taste off with a small moan. “If there was more room in this truck…”
“Fuck,” he groaned in response, another bead rising to replace the one she’d tasted. “Hurry up before I blow my fucking load all over this pretty dress of yours.”
With a small laugh, Mindy rolled the condom down over his length and shifted closer.
“You still have your damn panties on,” he said with a growl while grasping her hips.
Mindy reached between them and slid them to the side to rub her wet folds along his straining cock. “Nothing better than a panties-to-the-side quickie in the front seat of a truck,” she said and lifted her hips up.
Where to Buy
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.
TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with E.D. Parr’s hot new M/M Romance on the Go™ Love on Show, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine online romance. Take it away, E.D.!
Thank you for inviting me to your blog with new release MM romance Love on Show. I loved writing this story. I’d had the idea in my head for nearly a year, but life got in the way of my writing for a while there. When I finally wrote the story, it flowed onto the computer because I knew Caer and Justin so well.
Their love story is hot and heart wrenching. There are places in the story I wanted to shock because life throws wildcards at everyone now and then. I also wanted the guys to love each other deeply.
Justin hides a fun-loving trait until the end of the story when I hope readers will see how much he loves Caer.
Dishy Justin Harper plays gay bad boy Brandon in a TV show that’s fast becoming a cult classic, but Justin hides the fact he’s gay in real life. When a new actor is cast to play his TV show love interest, Justin can’t deny the raging attraction he feels for gorgeous Caer Rossi.
Caer Rossi makes it clear he thinks Justin is smoking hot. He can’t wait for the kissing scenes, and they sizzle, but underneath the performance for the TV show, a deep, loving passion builds between the two men. Something has to give, but what and who will it be when a journalist threatens to ruin Justin’s perfectly crafted public persona?
He followed Justin out of the room and down the corridor into what looked like a wardrobe room. Rails of clothes lined one wall and baskets of accessories and other items dotted the floor space.
Justin stopped walking and turned abruptly.
Caer reared back to avoid bumping into him.
“We’ll take my car into the village and get something to eat, but first I’d like to explain.” The actor’s voice held sincerity. His eyes held a plea.
“Yeah … I couldn’t go through with the kiss until I’d let you know what to expect. I, er, I like to kiss for real. It just doesn’t look right on camera kissing someone on the chin or missing their lips any way you can. You know … there’s no passion in it … what do you think? Will it be okay?”
Justin’s fabulous blue-gray eyes searched Caer’s face.
“I can do that. Sure.” Caer softened his voice. He gazed at Justin’s mouth. “Show me. Kiss me.” You are adorable. I know you want to fuck me bad.
Relief entered Justin’s expression. He leaned toward Caer. His eyes closed.
Caer met him. The kiss sent waves of pleasure through Caer. His stomach clenched. He lifted his arms and held Justin. The gentle merge of lips on lips teased him and he slipped a palm along Justin’s jaw, prolonging the kiss, soaking up the sexy feel of stubble rasping on his skin.
Justin drew away. He gazed at Caer. “Hell, that was some kiss.”
Where to Buy
About the Author
E.D. Parr loves the countryside where story ideas spring to mind easily. A romantic, E.D. sees beauty in most things.
TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with Allyson Young and Peri Elizabeth Scott’s hot new post-apocalyptic romance Shelter, out on July 18 and now available for pre-order. Take it away, ladies!
Addison Longwood survived the plague that struck down almost everyone around her. She survived the hazardous trek into the countryside to find shelter within a group of like-minded individuals led by a man she can actually respect. Settled and contributing, she allows herself a sense of hope.
From the remaining military, Captain Jesse Forbes is charged with locating survivors in order to rebuild the country. His initial impression of Addison’s band isn’t positive and he sets his sights on the young woman in order to infiltrate, and assess her leader—the end justifying the means, or so he assures himself.
But there are far greater dangers lurking, threatening the very existence of the survivors. Alliances are forged—and tested. Betrayal cuts deep, lives are lost and others changed forever.
Who are the good guys anyhow?
Wrapped in an old piece of toweling—another item to add to the shopping list—she was squeezing the moisture out of her mane when Jesse Forbes came through the door. One of her guys lingered just outside, guarding the man, but every molecule of her being told her to run, far and fast before she put some steel in her spine and managed a nod.
“Morning. I see you’re up ahead of most everyone else too,” he said.
Making small talk in the showers, with him fully clothed and her … not, sucked. To his credit, aside from one sweeping glance down her body, he looked at her face.
“Seems like it.” She edged around him, catching his amused stare and grabbed up her clothes. “Excuse me.”
“I wondered how long your hair was.”
She blinked, and despite herself, her hand rose to finger the wet tangles. Not particularly vain, she’d left her hair to grow, finding it easier to tie up and out of the way instead of fighting with the unruly curls. Especially now she could keep it clean and avoid the critters that tended to infiltrate dirty hair, particularly among close quarters. It had been carefully secured and out of the way on the mountain that day so he couldn’t have known.
Deciding not to answer, she ducked into the tacked-on separate room, no more than a tent, thank goodness for the temperate climate. She rubbed furiously at the dampness still on her skin and then yanked on her jeans under the cover of her towel. She pulled on her shirt, only then using the toweling to wring more moisture from her hair.
“Sorry. Again. I seem to put my foot in my mouth around you. And I’m not yet privy to the rules around here.” His smooth baritone sounded too damn close and she wheeled around, cursing the fact she’d turned her back on him. And he was between her and her rifle.
She hadn’t been mistaken about his size and breadth, although refused to feel intimated—or anything else. Besides, his guard was close by. Her brain processed his educated comment. Sometimes he sounded like an average Joe, then next, a college professor. Privy? Her obsession with books allowed for the interpretation, but still…
Forcing herself to project calm, or whatever felt close to that, she said, “Are you asking about segregation? Of the sexes?” And why had she used the word sex in his vicinity?
“That, among other things.”
“Mitchell, I mean, the Colonel, will apprise you.” She thought she saw a glimmer of intrigue in those strangely colored eyes but it passed too quickly to be certain.
“He said he’d assign someone. As a guide. Aside from my armed escort.”
“Then you’ll be set. Excuse me.”
“Is there a time that’s better for me—and the guys—to shower?” His hands went to the collar of his T-shirt and he tugged it over his head.
Addy had seen enough torsos—and other man parts—in her life. How could she not, given her history and where she now slept? So Jesse’s cut chest and chiseled abs shouldn’t have had any effect on her. And they didn’t, her excellent self-control surging to the fore. They. Did. Not.
“No set times,” she said, infusing her voice with casualness. “This shower is communal for the fighters. The camp defenders, I’d guess you’d call us. There’s another, larger one for the rest of the camp. The guys make allowances for us four women—me, Marcia, Denise, and Laura—first thing. I woke up earlier today.”
Was that a knowing look? She fought a blush. He was getting under her skin and she had no doubt he knew it. Probably knew women inside and out, had lots of experience with them. Well, she had lots of experience with men, too, and none of it positive.
“I slept fine,” she lied. “I woke early, is all. So if you hurry, you won’t be disturbed by the other women when they arrive. Unless it won’t bother you.” For sure it wouldn’t bother Denise and probably not the other two.
“I’ll just be quick then.” His long fingers reached for the button on his khakis. It didn’t escape her notice he didn’t remark on being disturbed by the women.
Refusing to look as though she was fleeing, Addy folded her towel before turning on her heel and stalking out, dipping to snatch up her rifle. The glimpse of his naked, sculpted butt and strong legs was emblazoned on her retinas, but she blinked the vision away. Add arrogance to his confidence. Not necessarily a nice mix.
Where to Buy
About the Author
Allyson Young aka Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in cottage country, Manitoba, Canada. She and her husband pretend to work well together in their seasonal business.
She has always enjoyed the written word, and after reading an erotic romance, quite by mistake, decided to try her hand at penning one. That was followed by a mix of spicy (Ally) and sweet (Peribeth) romances in various genres as well as a post-apocalyptic adventure without a lick of romance by Peribeth.
A bestselling Amazon author, a hybrid, and a coauthor, as of April 2018 she has published seven series and several standalones, with others in the works.
TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with Doris O’Connor’s hot new romance Impossible, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine online romance. Take it away, Doris!
Thanks so much for having me on your blog with my new release Gabe’s Revenge. This is book two in my series McLeod Security and a lot darker and longer than the first book. You’ll meet some familiar characters from book one in the series, but don’t worry. There are no spoilers, so the series can be read out of order. 🙂
Gabe and Lissa took me on quite the journey when I was writing their story, so hold on tight, as they find their way to their Happy Ever After.
Revenge is best served cold…
Gabriel Henshaw is nothing but a monster—a ruthless killer—that’s what Lissa Andrini has always been told. Sold to the man by her own father, she fears for her life, yet she can’t help the insane pull she feels to him. It has to be some form of Stockholm syndrome, surely? It couldn’t possibly be the effect of his Dominant nature effortlessly pulling her under his spell and awakening her latent submissive side.
Beating Andrini to a bloody pulp soothes Gabe’s rage temporarily, but that leaves his daughter. Were it not for a promise to her mother, he’d refuse this payment, not least because Lissa Andrini awakens all of his protective and carnal instincts. The perfect counterfoil for his darker needs and desires, she has the power to bring him to his knees.
Can love flourish when you’re a pawn in a dangerous game?
“Fuck you, Sir.”
The snarky intonation she put on that title, while she yanked her chin up and did her best to stare him down, should have made him do good on his promise to put her over his knee. However, the slight wobble in her bottom lip, coupled with the way every delectable curve of her body was pressed into his frame, meant any such action would be a very bad idea indeed. He wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of her, and he didn’t want her first time to be angry sex. She deserved better than that.
“Oh, fuck, we will, my dear, but not now and not here.”
Her eyes grew wide, her already fast breaths sped up even more, and Gabe swallowed a groan. He let go of her and stepped back for some much-needed breathing space. As it was his cock was trying his hardest to break out the confines of the denim surrounding it. Gabe couldn’t even remember the last time he wanted a woman this damn much.
“So, you’re going to add rape to your rap sheet. Murdering innocent women wasn’t enough for you?”
A gasp from behind them alerted Gabe to Mavis’s presence, and sure enough when he turned his head it was to see her standing there. Hands pushed into the pockets of her ever-present apron her lips were pressed into a fine line, signaling her disapproval.
“Parkinson is here, Gabe,” she said.
“Thank you, Mavis, I’ll be there in a minute.”
She nodded, glanced at Lissandra and shook her head.
“Tell her the truth, Gabe, all of it. Or this will never work.”
With that, she turned and left them alone on the terrace.
“Oh my God, she knows, doesn’t she? I thought she was nice and I could trust her. Oh, I’m such a fool.”
Lissandra tried to get past him, but he stepped in her way.
“Lissa, don’t.” She pushed against his chest in a vain effort to make him move and then glared up at him.
“Don’t you dare call me that. Only Mama ever called me that. Don’t you fucking dare…” She slammed her hand over her mouth and shook her head. Misery and despair rolled off of her in waves, and Gabe had to fight the urge to take her in his arms. She wouldn’t welcome that move right now, if ever, and now was not the time.
Instead he crossed his arms over his chest, widened his stance, and simply looked at her.
“I’ll call you anything I damn well, please, little girl, and you will lose the attitude. I told you last night, you’re mine now, so you better get used to it. As for Mavis, she is the most loyal person I ever met. Without her, I doubt I would have survived my childhood, so you be nice to her, do you hear me?”
“Or what? You’ll kill me, too?” The mumbled reply grated, and he took several deep breaths to calm himself.
“If I wanted you dead, you’d be six feet under already, girl. After the hit on your father went wrong, I’ve never trusted anyone else to do the killing for me ever again.” He waited for that to sink in, and sure enough her head came up, and she stared wide-eyed, confusion evident on her face.
“I thought… it wasn’t…”
“No, little girl. I’m not such a bastard that I would rob a child of its mother, especially when that mother’s only crime was falling in love and staying with that fucker, Andrini. Besides, I prefer to kill with my hands. Much more satisfying.” He uncrossed his arms and wrapped his hands around her slender throat. Her heartbeat jumped under his palms, and he squeezed just once before he released her. “To feel the life draining out a piece of scum that crossed me … that’s sweet.”
“You’re a monster.” Her whispered reply made him grin.
“Yes, I suppose I am. You better get used to it, little girl, and don’t get any silly ideas of crossing me. You behave and do as you’re told, and we’ll get along just fine.”
She swallowed hard, but gave the tiniest nod, and that would have to do for now.
“Good girl, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
“So, you’ll kill me if I don’t behave?” She mimed quotation marks around that one word and nudged her chin up in a move of defiance that simply served to make him harder. It would be fun to tame all that passion, indeed, and knowing that he would be the first man ever to touch her, to teach her … fuck, what a turn-on that was. Gabe had never cared much about being the first. He wasn’t possessive over the women he fucked. That would mean he cared about them to be anything more than a convenient set of holes to sink his dick into, but this was Lissandra Andrini. His revenge and he was fast beginning to realize his destiny, too. Whether she’d also prove to be his downfall remained to be seen.
“Killing is too easy an out. That’s the only reason Andrini still lives. I want him to suffer, to wallow in his own filth. Death is too good for the likes of him. As for you…” He paused and smiled. “I’ve already told you what I’ll do to you. And once that ass of yours is red raw I will fuck it, so, maybe I’ll kill you after all with the petit mort, at least.”
Her sharp intake of breath almost sounded like a moan, and acting on instinct, he stepped closer, and shoved his hand under her robe to cup her mound. Wet heat greeted his palm, and he smirked, while a blush suffused her pale skin.
“What are you? You can’t … oh…” She tried to clamp her legs together, but one shake of his head stopped her. He forced himself to remove his hand, looked at the glistening evidence of her arousal on his palm and held it up for her to see.
“Protest all you want, Lissa. Hate me if you must, but your body doesn’t lie.” He licked the wetness off his hands and immediately regretted that, as her feminine musk hit his nostrils. Damn, she smelled good.
“I do, I hate you.” Her denial was too breathy to be truly effective, and Gabe laughed.
“No problem, my sweet. You don’t have to like me to enjoy fucking me. Now, go and get dressed, and meet me in the living room in ten minutes. Don’t make me wait, or so help me I drag you out there like this or maybe naked.” He grinned at her simmering outrage. “I’m sure my men would enjoy the view.”
“You wouldn’t dare?”
Gabe threw his head back and laughed.
“Oh, my sweet, never dare the monster.”
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About the Author
Doris is a writer of sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, Sci-fi, BDSM, M/M, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.
TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with Lea Bronsen’s hot new interracial romance A Thorned Rose in the Sand, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine online romance. Take it away, Lea!
Hi, and thank you for hosting me on your blog!
I got the idea for this story after watching a video of French “globe cooker” Fred Chesneau visiting nomads in the Moroccan desert. They generously shared their food, home, and wisdom with a stranger, and I thought it would be cool to write about a female rally driver having the same experience.
A Thorned Rose in the Sand is set in the beautiful, quiet dunes of western Sahara where the sun is so hot you can’t walk barefooted and you could go miles and miles without seeing a single soul. In this story, you’ll meet a badass 450cc rally motorcycle, an opinionated but gentle dromedary, and two highly strong-willed young persons from opposite sides of the planet who get off to a bad start then can’t keep their hands off each other 😊
When life in a big U.S. city becomes too much, Stevie Jones decides to live her wildest dream – compete against the tough guys in a motorcycle rally across Morocco. But the real excitement is found away from the race track, in the shifting sands of the desert.
After his studies in London, Ragab has returned to the nomadic lifestyle of his Bedouin family and the majestic silence of the Sahara. He dreams of the perfect wife, until a beautiful but feisty biker stuck in a sand dune turns his quiet world upside down.
The girl screamed behind him. “Eeeeee!”
Too hard to resist. Until now, Ragab had had a difficult time respecting her privacy, but surely, a scream called for attention. What kind of a gentleman would he be if he didn’t check on a woman in distress?
He spun and found her kneeling on her jacket, nude and wet, arms outstretched in shock. He bit down a laugh. Yes, the deep well water was cold, but one got used to it, and in the extreme heat of the desert, it was a blessing.
She turned, caught him staring, and even though he couldn’t see anything inappropriate, she hurried to cover her breasts and pubic area. “Look away!” she shouted, voice panicky.
The laugh bubbled inside him, but he obediently turned back to the motorcycle—then stood in such a way he could see her reflection in one of the side mirrors.
Oh, it was like watching a porn scene. Her long, red curls hung wild over her back and round, white butt cheeks. Every time she moved, a portion of her breasts appeared in the space between her ribs and arms. Such perfect feminine curves, all over. Imagine if he saw the front…
Blood rushed to his groin. Stiffening, bothered, he tore from the sight, walked over to the well, and leaned against its waist-high wall, hoping the hardness of the bricks and coolness from the water below would temper his arousal before it became a full-blown erection.
He strained to hear.
Splashes. Muffled squeals. More splashes.
He turned slowly and stole a glance from the corner of his eye.
She washed her panties and black top in the bucket and leaned forward to spread them in the sun. Her position exposed the dark pink lips of her sex, from the tiny hole in her butt to the end of her slit, where her clitoris hid.
Shocked to his core, he turned back and groaned low, his cock hardening again.
He closed his eyes, drew long, slow breaths to calm the painful throbbing and counted minutes, trying to think of something else.
His dromedary, for example. It would be cool to show her how to ride it. What if he rode another one, and they both galloped on the dunes together, she laughing, ecstatic…
Then they’d roll in the sand, and he would tease her thighs apart and slide his hungry hardness into her dark pink lips, to the wet bottom of her. Oh, yes.
She called, “Ready?”
He risked a glance in her direction.
Wearing one of his sisters’ dresses and looking divine with her red curls floating behind her—and her face white and clean—she strolled to the motorcycle, carrying a bag and her clothes. She stuffed everything on top of the fuel tanks, got up, lifted the dress to her knees, and started the motor.
Not once looking at him.
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About the Author
Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After venturing into dirty inner-city crime drama with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between psychological thriller, romantic suspense, and dark erotic romance.
TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with Allyson Young’s hot new Romance On The Go™ Impossible, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine online romance. Take it away, Allyson!
Both being extremely independent and familiar with rejection, Celeste Hill and Elliot Godwin have a short but intense time together, something very special.
She heads off to a coveted job, leaving him to puzzle out how he might pursue a connection he’d never dreamed of having. And, despite pursuing her dream, Celeste can’t stop thinking about Elliot and what might have been.
Returning home before he can follow her, she tells him they are pregnant. Impossible. Believing he’s sterile, the reason his wife left him, Elliot is devastated—and lashes out. Celeste flees his cruel words, putting distance between them, and now determined not to name him as the father of their child.
But miracles do happen and men can come to their senses. Elliot follows his heart and Celeste again opens hers for their happily ever after.
Knowing the majority of her response was hormone-fueled did nothing to mitigate the meltdown. How hard had she held herself against the news until now, sharing with no one but him? Forgoing the acceptance and excitement of her friends and family… Doing the right thing, notifying the father first. She sobbed and choked until she thought her throat would tear and her lungs collapse, her cheeks raw with the deluge. Her baby… She pressed a hand against her abdomen, whispering a heartfelt reassurance. Not about you, sweetheart. I love you.
It felt like hours but was, in reality, a few short minutes before she wrestled back her composure, albeit as a soggy wreck of exhaustion.
Impossible. She’d sorted out the reasoning—and ensuing rejection—behind his flat comment in short order. But it wasn’t impossible. He was capable regardless of what he believed. The tiny seed in her belly was living proof.
But it didn’t matter. He thought she’d come to him, pregnant with another man’s child, to cadge… She couldn’t bear to think of what he thought of her. His opinion didn’t matter either. Asshole.
Fumbling for a wad of tissues, she mopped up what remained of her makeup and took a shuddering breath, pushing any thought of Elliot Godwin from her head.
A tap on the window drew a muffled shriek as she started, turning to stare at his unwelcome bulk hunched over her little car, his handsome face only inches away. His silvery eyes were narrowed, cold and impenetrable, not at all like the turbulent wash of emotion when he’d been as deep inside her as any man could be in a woman. Planting their child.
As emotionally drained as she was, she couldn’t help the faint shiver of that arousing memory before dispatching it. Stupid hormones.
She eased the window down a notch. “What?”
His gaze took in her face and she knew what he saw. She never cried prettily, but then she rarely cried. Make that never. Tears were for the weak. He would know that.
“Are you all right?”
Like he cared. She was a slut, remember? Well, maybe not—Elliot didn’t judge, at least about consenting adults sexing things up. So, what then? What was a woman called who tried to stick a guy with a kid that wasn’t his? Something far worse in his eyes, for sure.
“I’m fine.” She whirred the window back up and threw the vehicle into gear.
With cautious regard to his proximity, she drove forward and then guided the car back onto the pavement, ignoring his tall form in the mirror.
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About the Author
Allyson Young lives in cottage country, 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.
A best selling Amazon author, a hybrid author, as of December 2017, along with her alter ego and three co-authors, she has published four series and several standalones in contemporary, sci fi, fantasy and suspense genres–50 books in total.
Allyson will write until whatever is inside is satisfied, until the heroes man up and the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and she favours the darker side of romance.