Fabulous Friday Reads: To Be His
TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with C.R. Moss’s hot new release To Be His. Take it away, C.R.!
Thank you for having me on your blog! I’m happy to share with you and your readers my latest release.
First is some information about the series and the book…
About the Series
Nestled within the hills of central Texas is a special ranch. A place that defies the laws of physics—that of time, space, and dimensions. It’s a place where normal morphs with the paranormal and supernatural. A place that seems to know what a person’s true desires and needs are, and then allows the right circumstances to occur to fulfill those wishes.
Welcome to the Gateway Ranch.
Your gateway to all things possible…
I’m Professor Arianna Perez, and I’ve been asked if I’ll ever trust, let alone love, another man again. After dumping an abusive boyfriend, I doubted I would. At least, that’s how I felt until fate had sexy wrangler, Gavin Bishop, reappearing in my life in a way I never expected.
Against my better judgement, I fell hard for the cowboy, believing everything he said, including how he wanted to treat me like a queen and keep me safe. Little did I know, though, that the circumstances that brought us together could also tear us apart…
And possibly claim my life.
Smiling, I studied him some more. Every time I looked at his chiseled chest and the strip of hair going in a line from his belly button to a spot hidden by his jeans, my heart fluttered. Sure, I’d seen a lot of him in class, but this was just the two of us.
This was intimate.
I wanted to run my fingers along his skin. Play with the patch of hair. See where my caresses would lead to. I wanted to create with him. I’d felt this way with other boyfriends, even Chad, but never had the urge been so strong. Nor had I been able to gather the courage to do anything about it in the past. Except once. When my relationship with Chad had started imploding, a friend of mine gave me an art kit, one designed to help couples grow closer to each other. I’d shown it to Chad. He’d then called the gift, my idea, and me stupid, telling me I must be an idiot to think he’d be interested in such a “childish, preposterous activity.”
Asking him if he thought my career were those things, as well, spurred on a multi-hour argument that ended with him leaving and not returning for two nights. When he’d finally come home, he’d seemed remorseful and promised to do better by me. He had, too. For a couple of weeks. But we never had used the present.
Now would be a good time to make some new memories surrounding those art supplies.
After all, I seemed to have a very willing participant, who happened to be gorgeous in my opinion, beautifully proportioned in a trim, well-toned way, and desired little ol’ me. Gavin wanted me, had admitted to dreaming and fantasizing about me. Despite my concerns about our ages and how we used to know each other, I realized I felt the same about him.
I hungered for him.
“God, I want to paint you,” the awed words fell from my mouth before I could stop them.
“Thought that’s what we’re doing,” Gavin responded.
Clearing my throat, I jerked my attention from him, went to my paints, and faked looking for one. “Well, yes, but…” Spit it out, girl. Be brave. Have some fun. Gathering my resolve, I continued, “I want to get out a gift a friend of mine had given me a while back. It contains non-toxic paints. This way I can paint you. Use you as both palette and canvas. And, if you’re up for it, you can paint me.”
An impish grin stretched his face. “Sounds interesting. What do we need to do?”
Where to Buy
About the Author
An eccentric and eclectic writer, C.R. Moss pens stories for the mainstream and erotic romance markets, giving readers a choice of sweet, savory or spicy reads, usually within a sub-genre or two — paranormal, sci-fi/fantasy, time travel, or western flare. She also has a passion for penning dark fiction. Writing as Casey Moss, she delves into the darker aspects of life in her work, sometimes basing the stories on reality, sometimes on myth. No matter the path, her stories will take you on a journey from the lighthearted paranormal to dark things unspeakable. What waits around the corner? Come explore…
Website/Blog | Twitter | Instagram | Amazon Author Page
Marvelous Monday Reads: Foolin’
Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, darlings! Today I’m featuring Allyson Young and her delicious new Western romance Foolin’, now available from Eevrnight Publishing and other purveyors of fine online romance. Take it away, Allyson!
When Kathleen and Carter meet, it’s intrigue at first sight, and they awaken from emotional exile. A turn of events finds her spontaneously joining him on his working ranch. Despite being really hard work, she’s blissfully happy—and the fringe benefits aren’t too shabby either.
Carter can’t believe his luck. He desperately needed a housekeeper, not that he welcomed this amazing woman into his home for that reason. He can cope with her bond with her daughter, no matter how it forces him to remember his lost young son. And he can’t give her his heart, but what he can give is surely enough.
In love with this amazing man, Kate ignores that Carter withholds, believing he’ll change, and she’s willing to wait. When she inadvertently discovers he was angling for a housekeeper all along, it knocks her blinders off.
She’s done waiting. She deserves more—and so does he.
“I think I’m good. I should probably get to bed,” she said. “What time do you get up?”
“Early. And I head out straight away. You stay in bed until you’re ready to face the day. I’ll leave you my cell number, and you text me. I’ll head back.”
“I’m an early riser too.”
“Five o’clock for me tomorrow, Kathleen.”
“Oh, maybe not. I’ll text you.”
He pulled out his cell. “What’s your number?”
With the exchange complete, he lurked in the doorway. “The bathroom is across the hall. Towels in the cabinet.”
“Great, thanks. I’ve got everything I need.”
Did she? So near and yet so far, she hovered there like a wood sprite. When she stooped to slip the strap off her shoe, then the other and stepped out of the heels, he found he’d closed the gap.
She looked up, having lost a slight difference in height, and her eyes flared green, the pupils dilating. A good night kiss, then. A peck. He reached out and with only tacit permission lowered his mouth over hers.
On a startled gasp, her lips parted, and he took advantage, yet maintained control, alert to any distress. It separated him into distinct parts that soon melded when she pressed into him, her arms wreathing around his neck.
He learned her, her taste and texture, reveling in her response, swallowing her tiny moans. When he pulled away to breathe, resting his forehead against hers, she sagged in his arms and he kept her steady.
His heart pounded in tandem with hers, and he was so hard he hurt. She shivered, and he said, “Do I need to apologize? Because it’ll be difficult.”
In a whisper, she said, “No need. I’m just sorry I’m so out of practice.”
“If you’re out of practice, I hope to kiss you when you’re at your best.”
Tipping her head back, she met his eyes before glancing away. “I don’t do this on a first date. I don’t date. Lord.”
He eased his body away from hers, regretting that he’d encroached on her personal space. She tugged him back. “But I want to. I want you. If that makes me a—”
He stopped her with a hard kiss. “Don’t. Don’t make this a bad thing.”
Her lips twitched in a tremulous smile. “I don’t want to overthink it.”
“I’ll take care of you,” he promised.
He lost his Stetson and shrugged out of his jacket, bemoaning any inability to keep a hand on her as she tugged a zipper hidden in a side seam of her dress and let it slither down the length of her body to pool at her feet.
His fingers froze on the snaps of his shirt as he took in the sight of her in scraps of pink lace and honest-to-God thigh-high stockings. With a dry mouth, he wrenched the placket apart and threw the shirt to one side, gathering her to him, nuzzling the hollow at the base of her neck and then down to the tops of her breasts.
She arched into him, and he fumbled with the clasp and freed those gorgeous mounds that tumbled into his waiting hands. Soft skin tipped with beaded nipples he desperately wanted to get his mouth on. And her sultry scent…
His belt buckle pressed into her belly, and he made one hand abandon its prize and yank open the offending metal, dealing with the button and zipper while he was at it. His cock breathed a sigh of relief—he swore it—as his mouth found its target.
“God, Carter.” She pushed into him, and he sucked harder, gently using his teeth against the tip.
Her hands found his hips and pushed his jeans down, dragging his boxer briefs with them. The sensation of her fingers on his ass made him groan, his pelvis thrusting, his cock against her center. At this rate, he’d disgrace himself.
When she sought him out, he turned with her, hobbled by his own jeans, the ignominy nearly making him smile as he held her against the wall. “Touch me, darlin’, and I’ll lose it all over your sweet hand.”
“Out of practice, too,” she teased, her hair awry and her mouth swollen. “I’m so ready, Carter.”
He worked his hand beneath her panties, staring into her eyes, soaking in the pleasure sparking there when he found her apex, full and wet. “You are.”
Still, he played at her entrance, then feathered over the knot above, making her rise on her toes and whimper. “Please.”
It took some awkward gymnastics to get a hand into his jeans’ pocket and lift his wallet, all while stroking her, but he managed it. Somehow got the condom out and open and smoothed on.
Pushing aside the fabric guarding her pussy, he bent his knees a fraction and set his cock at her opening. With a single thrust, he filled her, freezing in place as they both adjusted. She was wet but so fucking tight. She’d said she didn’t do this, didn’t date. Christ. How long had it been?
“You okay?” he rasped, willing her to open her eyes.
As if on cue, her lashes fluttered open, and he drowned in the depths behind them. Urgent need enticed him, and he responded, easing out and pushing back in. Heated, wet satin sucked at him as he powered toward orgasm, knowing it wouldn’t be long.
But he wasn’t getting there alone. Watching her for any signs, doing his best to ignore the pull at the base of his spine, he found her sweet spot and swiveled his hips to take her there. She responded by working herself against him, her breath increasing in shallow pants as she crested.
With a short cry, she tensed and clamped on him, shuddering, her head grinding against the wall. There was no resisting her, and he followed her over, emptying himself. He set his teeth on the top of her shoulder and muffled his groan, then kissed the spot reverently.
Where to Buy
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Bookstrand | Smashwords | Evernight
About the Author
Allyson Young aka Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in cottage country, Manitoba, Canada where 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 August 2018 she has published seven series and several standalones—all available on Amazon—with others in the works.
Nicola’s Sunday Shoutout: Jules Dixon
Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to Jules Dixon and her hot new western romance Spurs (Cherry County Cowboys), now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Take it away, Jules!
Dr. Grayson Taylor is convinced that a summer fling with the bartending cowboy is a quick remedy to mend his broken heart. Soon his plans to return to big city lights for a dream career don’t seem as attractive as the cowboy with dimples lying in his bed. When Grayson’s charred past reappears, can he learn that forgiveness costs less than pride and admit he is the one who needs to be healed?
Cowboy Izaac Scott drove into town with little more than boots on his feet, a well-loved baseball cap on his head and across-country journey on his mind, but he’s not sightseeing. He’s running from the ghost of a first love. Will the doctor be the one to help Izaac realize that true love can heal the past or will the cruel spurs of life jab him in the heart again?
The door was open to the other bedroom, and when I reached to close it I heard the rustling of covers in the room. The glow of the moon drowned Gray’s room in silver light. I watched him adjust the pillow under his head as he stared up at the ceiling. His warm liquorcolored eyes glinted kaleidoscopic colors in the moonlight. I started to pull the door closed, and his eyes met mine. I froze. Parts of my gut that hadn’t experienced the waves of anticipation in years twisted like a there was a hurricane inside of me.
Without speaking he scooted over in his bed and threw the covers back. My brain willed my body to move into the room, and in seconds I was next to his bed.
“One more night, Izaac.”
“I’m afraid it’ll only complicate what I’ve made a mess of, Gray.”
“I’m good at unraveling complications. Come here, cowboy.”
He was good at unraveling my willpower, too.
I slipped into the bed. “I wish I could offer you more than tonight.”
“I wish for a lot of things, but I’m not asking for anything more than this night.”
What words couldn’t express our bodies would. Gentle and unhurried kisses prolonged our progress. Seven days with Grayson had more passion and connection than the last five years of my life. Those years had been the abysmal pit of repentance. Every move I made was calculated to prevent and eliminate relationships with people, but now I had people who wanted to have me in their lives. I was going to lose the most important person I’d ever had in my life.
“Gray?” I whispered in his ear.
“I could still be a good guy to you.”
“Izaac, it’s okay to still care about Quinton, but I won’t compete with a ghost for your heart. It’s too hard to wonder if I’m the one in your mind at any given time or if you’ll leave when a memory of him overwhelms you.”
“I’ve held on for so long that I think maybe I’m just a living ghost myself.” “Then let me show you that you’re alive.”
His stubble abraded across the skin of my chest, and I fisted his hair as he explored every dip and inch down my stomach. If I couldn’t give him more, I could give him tonight. He deserved more, but this would have to do.
Where To Buy
All Romance eBooks
About Jules Dixon
Fuzzy sock collector, martini connoisseur, baseball fanatic, and dandelion lover, author Jules Dixon is a living testament to the genius of sugar and caffeine being able to keep a human alive. She’s addicted to everything related to the amazing emotion of love, probably instigated by her own happily ever after of 25 years with her beerbrewing hubby. Their love story created a sassy, artistic daughter and a computer genius but ultrasarcastic son.
Jules explores the rich psychology of sexual orientation, sexuality, choices, and conflicts of high school, college, and new adult characters with sizzle and humor in her novels and novellas. She’s a busy writer, and she loves it!