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Published on July 10, 2018 06:30

July 5, 2018

Free Chapter of Flip the Beat

33 min read

Flip the Beat is about to be unleashed, Romance Readers! Feast your eyes on this exclusive look into the first chapter of this fun, sexy novella, releasing July 10th. Enjoy!

Prologue

Molly sucked in a breath as the man trailed hot, openmouthed kisses along the length of her neck. He pressed her against the sofa, his hand supporting the small of her back. His hard length nudged the apex of her thighs. She spread her legs, and his cock pressed against her. He’d moved in last week and had come from his apartment downstairs a half hour ago—what had he asked for again? But one thing had led to another, and she was now in her bra and panties.

“This is crazy. I barely know you,” she whispered.

He lifted his muscular chest off her. Strands of dark blond hair fell into his striking face. He had a smooth, angular jawline, a perfect nose, and full, sensual lips. He hovered naked above her, his clothes discarded on the floor. His hazel eyes met hers with concern.

“I know. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help it when I kissed you. You’re so beautiful, Molly.” He traced his finger down her cheek. “I can stop if you want. But you need to tell me now.”

Molly blinked. She knew she should end it. She didn’t make hasty, irrational decisions, and this one would be a doozy. But since she’d met him the other day, her body came alive each time she passed him in the hallway. No one affected her like Evan, and she wanted him. Bad. If it was going to happen, she needed to give in to it. She slid her arms around his shoulders and hooked her ankle around the back of his calf. “No, I don’t want you to stop. I just… I need to tell you something.”

He took her hand and kissed the top of it reassuringly. “Okay.”

“Evan.” She pulled his head down and whispered in his ear, “I’m a virgin.”

Chapter One

Present day

“Ivers, you’re on.”

Professor Sullivan’s pleasant English accent pulled Molly from her reverie. She’d tried not to dwell on her breakup with Sean last night. She made her way through the auditorium aisle and kept her eyes glued to the podium. As she passed Professor Sullivan, who headed her thesis committee, she once again regretted all the times she should’ve made a move. Time had passed, though; he had a girlfriend, and Molly was due to get her master’s in anthropology, with a minor in art history, and move to Paris. Sixty-two days, four hours, and thirty-nine minutes, but who’s counting?

She could easily stay in Detroit and use her degree in a cushy job downtown. But she’d much prefer to dig new roots and work as an intern in the research department of the Musée d’Orsay. Her French wasn’t perfect but passable enough. The internship was a two-month stint in Paris—unpaid, but the opportunity of a lifetime. If Molly decided to come back to Detroit after it was over, her apartment and job were secured.

She got comfortable behind the podium and dived into her presentation on “Negotiations of Gender, Identity, and Social Space in Modern America and Its Evolution through the Decades.” She drifted off mentally somewhere between her introduction with Thomas Paine’s Common Sense and women’s role in the American Revolution before waking up a bit. She tucked her brown hair behind her ear and spent the next forty-five minutes with her gaze on Professor Sullivan. He made it kind of hard not to. Professor Nicholas Sullivan fit the epitome of her ideal man. He was tall and athletic, had wavy dark hair, dreamy, unguarded blue eyes, and a sexy English accent. He was also completely unavailable.

Professor Sullivan led cultural awareness classes that pertained to her degree, but for her entire graduate career, Molly enrolled in his English lit classes. She neither needed them nor had any interest in them, but she’d gone so far as to make it an added minor under her scholarship, just so she could be in his classroom. Yeah, she’d been with Sean, but their relationship was always predictable and stable. The boon in unrequited love for your professor was that you could still carry on your obsession ages after the fact. Professor Sullivan interjected questions throughout her defense, which she countered with ease. She could intellectually match him at any given time of the day, but getting his real attention took a miracle.

Professor Sullivan listened with rapt attention and seemed pleased with her delivery. Molly released a big breath at the close of her defense, happy to be done—though a bit forlorn her time with Prince Charming was coming to an end.

* * * *

Finished with her thesis defense, Molly arrived at the Detroit Historical Museum, where she worked odd hours as a collections and exhibitions archivist. She restored artifacts and prepared special exhibits during different seasons. The job had helped her get the internship at the Musée d’Orsay. She found an inherent mysticism in her work with precious artifacts. Revealing what secrets they hid had become its own reward. When she was young, she’d first visited the museum on a school field trip. She’d been struck by the mystery of preserved objects from thousands of years ago. That had led to her obsession with the Egyptian period.

Molly treated an ancient Chinese clay tea set for a few hours until she was interrupted by a text from Nell, her best friend, asking her to meet at their favorite local club for a drink at seven after her shift.

And now here she was, in the parking lot of the club, giving Nell a hug. She was a pretty girl with smooth, dusky-brown skin, intelligent eyes, and long dark hair. They’d hit it off when they first met and had been roommates for most of their college careers. They had each other’s backs on a constant basis. In preparation for her move to Paris, Molly had looked into roommate ads online near the Musée d’Orsay but hadn’t committed to any of them yet. She’d be lucky to find a roomie half as wonderful as Nell.

The club appeared to be in full swing, the blare of the speakers loud over the crowded entrance line by the doors. The band onstage let loose and rocked out, the large drum with the moniker SERIOUSLY EVAN illuminated by stage lights and computer graphics.

She spotted the familiar dark-blond lead singer, who kept his gaze trained on them when they walked in and headed for a booth. He nodded in recognition and flashed a killer smile at her from behind the mic.

Ah, Evan Castle—the man who’d taken her virginity one fateful night six months ago. The awkwardness had ebbed away between them now. Well, so it seemed. Every time their eyes connected across a roomful of people, her body came alive with the memory. How in the world could she forget? His tongue, his fingers, his teeth—there wasn’t an inch of her he hadn’t explored or mapped out, long before they’d actually had sex. By the time it came down to it, she’d grown so aroused, her first time had hardly hurt.

They’d been neighbors and friends since then. He occupied the apartment right below her and Nell. He sang in his band three times a week and tutored in French to help pay his bills. He was twenty-six and due to graduate alongside them with a master’s in public relations. Okay, and a minor in sexiness. She couldn’t deny he was obviously eye candy at six-foot-three with a rock-star haircut and a ripped body to drive a woman wild. And the man could sing.

He seemed to have a soft spot for her ever since they met. He’d complimented her light blue eyes and heart-shaped face, which she inherited from her mother. He treated her with a reverent kind of tenderness each time their paths crossed, which made their interactions less uncomfortable than they ought to have been. Of course, they’d always been in the company of others since that night they’d slept together, so who knew?

She and Evan skirted around flirtation when they first met and continued to do so, a charged sexual energy between them. She’d been attracted to other men in the past, but he had a certain magnetism which awakened her and pushed a sexual button inside, made her come alive. Laid back, he exuded loads of confidence and charisma. He’d come to borrow a cup of sugar—the irony was not lost on her—on a night when Nell had left town.

She’d shown him a book about ancient Egypt, and somehow they’d wound up tangled on the couch. They’d kissed and climbed all over each other, and the making out led to an unforgettable night of hot, passionate sex in which he’d shown and taught her more than she’d ever been curious about. When she’d admitted she’d never had sex before and he’d asked her why she’d wanted to give him such a precious gift, she’d told him, “It feels right with you.” And it did. She hadn’t expected it, but his cock was the perfect size for her, long and thick, and he knew how to work her with the right amount of pressure and ease. He seemed made for her.

As a child, before her mother passed away from breast cancer, she’d believed in the beauty of fairy tales, and in finding someone like Evan. However, one problem offset the magic. After the butterflies and the passionate intimacy, after the laughter and tenderness in the afterglow, it was clear he wasn’t Mr. Right.

They’d awoken in her bed the next morning and gone downstairs to Evan’s apartment, hand in hand, to allow him to change before they went out for croissants and coffee. There had been a delightful vibe between them the entire time. But then she’d watched in disbelief as a herd of his groupies piled around his door before he’d hardly had a chance to open it, and latched on to him like a flock of birds to a tree. Some praised his performance from the night before while others asked him to speak in French. As the day wore on and Molly spent more time with Evan, the groupies always found an excuse to be close by, to linger in the hallway, and would even knock on his door to offer sweet baked goods.

She couldn’t handle the intrusiveness and broke it off with him less than twenty-four hours later. Sean soon came into her life, and the rest was history. It left her bitter. Sean couldn’t compare to the passion she’d shared with Evan no matter what he did.

Molly sighed. She’d be lucky to find anyone again who would.

Evan was a nice guy beneath it all and a good friend, though, and they got on well. He often came to their apartment to borrow some ingredients, do handyman work, or to chat. They occasionally invited him to a few games and outings, but it had been a while since their last one. His throng of faithful followers or a random girl always accompanied him. Molly didn’t know who he slept with or how many, but she wasn’t interested in being just a number.

Given her knowledge of his sexual appetite and ability to satisfy a woman in the best of ways, she wouldn’t put it past him to have banged them all. But deep down, she didn’t care to know, didn’t want to. It was none of her business, and their night together existed as a special place in her memory. They kept it a secret between them. She never told Nell. And Evan, bless him, seemed content to honor that.

She and Nell sipped their drinks and watched Evan’s full lips wail into the mic while he played his guitar. His tight jeans hugged his well-formed ass, and he rocked out. A herd of young women held a vigil in front of the stage and moved provocatively in time to the music in their off-the-shoulder tops and miniskirts. They shot smitten eyes at him as they sashayed to the rhythm of the beat and vied for his attention. But his focus never strayed from Molly, as he sang his heart out about undying devotion to the one he loved. Oh, the irony.

She turned her head to avoid the weight of his gaze and grinned at Nell. “Jeez, he’s such a man whore. Look at him.”

“I know. Crazy there actually lurks a brain beneath those buns of steel, hmm? Oh, while we’re on the subject of buns.” Nell turned to Molly. “I have to ask you a favor.”

Molly arched an eyebrow. “Nell, we’ve discussed this before, and I told you I’m not into that. But if I were, you’d be the first woman I’d try anything with.”

“Bite me, Ivers.” Nell laughed. “No, there’s this guy I’m trying to meet. I need your help.”

“Random hopeful candidate number three hundred and thirty-seven. I’ll log him into the database and get him an orientation pamphlet.”

“Stop it.” Nell snorted. “I see him on campus a lot; he’s a dance instructor, hot-blooded Latino, and really fine. He’s got this unbelievable South American accent. I signed up to take his salsa class, but I don’t want to go it alone in case he has a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, come to think of it. Know what I mean?”

“Gotcha. Might be awkward?” Molly offered.

“Exactly. So, will you come?”

Molly sighed and pulled out her phone. Yet another errand to cram into her tight schedule, but for Nell she’d walk on hot coals. “Of course I will. You need moral support when you’re in hot pursuit. When is it?”

“Wednesday nights at seven.” Well, wonders never ceased. Tonight was Tuesday. Leave it to Nell to ask at the last minute, unless, of course, she’d planned ahead. Wednesday nights were the only nights Molly didn’t have school or work. She reluctantly agreed and painfully pictured what it would be like to dance salsa. She’d look like a moron. But Nell had become what Anne Shirley would denote as a “kindred spirit” over the years, so how could she say no?

“Sure. Why the hell not?” Molly put away her phone, took a sip of her drink, and glanced at the stage. “They sound really good tonight.”

Nell nodded. “Have you heard their cover version of ‘American Woman’? It’s pretty awesome. Boy’s got a set of pipes on him.”

“I haven’t heard it yet, but they do sound on point tonight.”

“You rock,” Nell called out as Seriously Evan finished their number.

“Thanks, guys.” Evan’s smooth voice came over the mic while the guitar music died. “We’re gonna take a quick break, but we’ll be back in ten, so stick around.” He hopped off the low stage to scattered applause and whistles. Molly schooled the smirk on her face as he sidled past the flirting girls and made his way toward their table.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Wonder Twins. TWT, Inc.”

He slid into the empty space beside Molly in the booth. She exchanged an amused look with Nell. He’d christened them with the moniker upon moving in. They were never Nell and Molly, but Fischer and Ivers, TWT. Their eye color, skin, and facial features couldn’t be more different, but they were both the same height, petite-figured, and had wide, generous mouths and lots of hair.

“So, where’s the right-wing Republican boyfriend tonight?” he asked. He stretched his arm over the back of Molly’s seat in a casual way. His forefinger grazed the edge of her earlobe, and a pleasant shiver ran through her. “I thought you two were attached at the hip.”

Molly went silent and looked at her drink. Great, here it came.

“They broke up,” Nell chipped in.

Molly gave her a look of mock gratitude from across the table as Evan turned to her in surprise. His sexy hazel eyes searched hers. She waited for a classic Evan Castle comment, but the solemnity in his expression told her he wouldn’t give any.

He whistled low. “Sorry, Ivers, that sucks. You guys were together for a while.”

She hid her cringe as she took another sip of her drink. “Yeah…” Gulp, gulp, uncomfortable silence.

The drummer in Evan’s band called over to him, and Evan told him he’d be right there. He rapped his knuckles on the table and flashed them both a flirty smile.

“Well, Ivers,” he said as he slid out of the booth. “You’ll have a lot of attention to deal with, being back in the jungle with the rest of us primates. Do me a favor, eh, and don’t forget to put a bag over your head when you go out from now on, or you’ll have every guy in the room at your feet and beating down your door. Then I’ll never be able to talk to you.” He gave her a cheeky wink and walked off.

Molly turned crimson. Nell mouthed, Wow, as she put her palm over her heart, and her jaw dropped open. They watched him walk off.

“What a compliment and a half. I did wonder why you two never got together. He always looks at you like he’s about to walk you against a wall and have at you.”

“What? No, he looks at all the girls like that. He’s just sweet and being a total flirt.” Molly waved it off, but her heartbeat accelerated as she remembered when he had, indeed, taken her against a wall on the night they’d spent together—that had been round three. He’d gone slow at first, sensitive and aware of her newness to sex, but soon her thighs had been locked around his perfect ass and he’d deliciously pounded into her. Molly shook her head and took a sip of her drink. No, she wouldn’t read more into it. Of course, she’d love to entertain the notion he still carried a torch for her, but with Evan, she knew better. He wasn’t a settle-with-one-woman sort of guy, and it put her off.

Still… She watched him talk to his drummer. He glanced over his shoulder and caught her eye. She turned back to Nell and took a quick sip and did her best to act nonchalant. “So, what’s the name of this dance machismo you’re on the hunt to get together with?”

“Jorge. And I don’t want to ‘get together’ with him. I plan to see what he’s like in bed, make some well-informed assessments, and we’ll go from there.”

“Count me in, partner.”

* * * *

Twenty-one hours later. What the hell was she doing? Molly climbed the stairs to the dance studio in cute workout clothes, amused. She tried to keep up with Nell, who moved with a purpose as if she were on her way to see the maharishi with water jugs balanced on a pole over her shoulders.

This guy better be worth it.

The pulse of the sensual salsa beat filled the halls from the open double doors as they entered the large dance studio. Several different couples moved in synchronization to the exotic rhythm.

The instructor stopped the music and turned around. “No, no, no, listen up. I have a dream.”

Well, damn. Nell hadn’t exaggerated. His colorful, rich accent made Antonio Banderas sound like Pee-Wee Herman. His parents were either very good-looking people, or the man had been sculpted by angels.

Nell nudged Molly. “I have a dream too. It involves his ass out of those black pants, and right where I can squeeze it,” she whispered.

Molly stifled a laugh, tapped Nell’s arm with the back of her hand, and mouthed, Stop it.

Nell looked pleased.

Jorge motioned around. “Everyone, change partners. Right now.” The dancers looked at one another awkwardly. “It wasn’t an invitation, people. Switch. I’ll count to ten, and if I see anyone with a partner of the same race, no lessons for a week. You look like couples out of The Lawrence Welk Show. You keep this up, and I’ll have Tyrone tap-dance with a handkerchief and scat in a second. Let’s go. Vámonos, vámonos.” The couples moved around until they were all of mixed ethnicity and size.

“Excellent,” Jorge said.

He paced by them and shot Nell a charged look. Nell ducked her head. Molly smiled. He definitely wanted Nell.

Jorge focused on his dance group as he walked through them. “Now, like Martin Luther King Jr., I too have a dream. My dream is to see beautiful cultures come together. I want to see Donny Osmond doing the wild salsa with Beyoncé. I want to see Jay-Z dance the cha-cha with Melissa McCarthy. ¿Los entiendes?” A few chuckles scattered around the room, accompanied by nods. “Maravilloso.” He hit a button on the MP3 player in the corner, and the music resumed. “Now dance.”

Jorge slunk toward Molly and Nell. His sinewy muscles and tight glutes emitted rampant sexual energy. Nell’s attraction to him from beside her permeated the air with desire.

“Your names?” he asked, and it came out Jour names?

“Molly Ivers, and this is Nell Fischer,” she replied to save Nell from stammering.

“I am Jorge,” he announced with flare.

“Jorge…?” Molly waited for a last name. He stood there with blatant masculinity as he sized them up. He walked slowly around them, a hunter circling his prey.

Nell leaned toward Molly. “It’s simply Jorge, like Madonna. One word. Just Jorge.” She purred with a rolled “r.” “Hey, Molls, you don’t think he’s gay, do you?”

Molly watched uncertainly as Jorge pulled a jerky movement with his butt to the music. He swiveled his hips around with his hands in the air and halted with his pelvis raised. She cleared her throat. “Um, if he’s not, he’s one hell of a secure guy. Either way, you have my blessing.”

They watched Jorge dance flawlessly around the floor with a random female dancer, and Molly knew Nell would nail him.

Jorge introduced Molly and Nell to the class, and Molly did her best to keep up as she danced, amused. Nell flirted, but she had a good head on her shoulders and didn’t choose men lightly, so this must be about more than the sex.

Molly laughed as they made their way to the parking lot after class. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you this far gone over someone.”

“Girl, I’m not that far gone. I’m…intrigued.”

“Right.”

“What about you, anyway? How are you doing since the breakup?”

Molly shrugged as they made their way to Nell’s car. “It’s fine. I feel better as a single person. I’m used to Sean and his texts about random, stupid things or general political ranting. It’s nice not to be bombarded with them, truth be told. Come with me out to the club tonight?”

Nell looked at her skeptically as they got in and she turned on the car. “Should I put out an announcement that the resident bookworm who’d rather waste time with book boyfriends, cheap crackers, and spray-on cheese has asked to go to the club tonight? Girl, who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”

Molly shrugged. “I need to let loose, okay? Graduation’s around the corner, I’m free of Sean, and I just finished my thesis defense. I’d say I’ve earned a little break.”

“And I’d say damn skippy,” Nell said as she backed out of the stall.

* * * *

They made their way into the club a few minutes later. A mix of some popular songs played, and the bass thumped.

Molly stepped out onto the dance floor and gyrated to the beat in the throng of people, happy to get lost in the music for a little while. She’d earned it, for crying out loud. She moved along to the track and enjoyed the freedom. Then everything changed. She spotted the last person she’d expect to see there—Professor Sullivan, with his girlfriend. But she wasn’t just his girlfriend. She was one of those girlfriends—the hot, slender blonde siren in the red dress. The sexy woman had the sinewy moves of a leopard. She tilted her head to the side as she laughed up at him, and he seemed enchanted with her. Great.

Nell danced with a cute guy a few feet away from her, oblivious to her dilemma. Molly walked to the edge of the dance floor and paused behind a thin stair rail that led to the upstairs bar. She stayed concealed as she watched her professor and his partner dance. Nicholas Sullivan exemplified what her sexual fantasies—the ones Evan didn’t star in—were made of: intelligent, British, gorgeous, and the kind of man who would serve her omelets in bed, take her to the ballet, and marry her. But blue-blooded men didn’t go for intelligent women like her. They wanted supermodels and hot-as-hell trophy wives to showcase around.

“You’re Molly, right?” A low female voice spoke in her ear.

Molly turned around. A pretty Asian woman stood there in a sleek black suit. She looked nice but seemed out of place for a night at the club. More professional-looking. Molly blinked. “Yes, I’m Molly. Can I help you?”

“No, but perhaps I can help you.” The woman held a clean, professional business card in front of her face. Molly read:

Jean-Luc Dubois

Life Coach

His website and contact information were listed at the bottom.

Molly snorted. “What makes you think I need a life coach?”

The woman held up a hand. “Let me explain. Jean-Luc doesn’t take random clientele. He’s had his eye on you for quite some time, Molly. He saw you speak at the Feminism Awareness Conference a year ago, and he has his own reasons for wanting to help. He’s offering his services to you completely free of charge because he’s impressed with you.” The woman tapped the edge of the card and pointed it at Molly. “If you have the desire to improve your public persona, or if you feel undervalued in the slightest, he can help change how people perceive you. He doesn’t offer his services free to anyone, Miss Ivers. Call him, and see for yourself.”

Molly regarded the card as she might a dangerous poison before tentatively reaching out and taking it. Really? A life coach?

The woman stared over Molly’s shoulder, and she turned to see Professor Sullivan and his gorgeous girlfriend had moved a little closer to the stairs.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” The woman gestured to Professor Sullivan’s girlfriend, who threw her golden locks back as she laughed. “She’s got it all, the looks, the manners, him. He won’t give you the time of day, will he? Jean-Luc can help. He’s made miracles happen to women just like you, who truly deserve it.”

Molly scoffed and turned to her. “Listen, lady. I don’t mean to be rude, but you don’t know me. What are you, his assistant?”

The woman smiled. “Not exactly. Call me a sort of scout. He specifically sent me to find you.”

Molly carefully weighed the woman’s words. A life coach? She held on to the card long after the woman disappeared. The irony was, she had her act together a lot better than most twenty-four-year-old women her age. The idea of being recruited to change her appearance to snag a man seemed not only hilarious, but sad. To be fair, the woman did say it pertained more to helping her improve her public persona. Still… She watched as the buxom blonde across the room draped her arms around Nicholas’s shoulders. The blonde pressed her breasts against his chest as they swayed to the club mix. His hand traveled to her ass, and Molly saw red. She put the card in her purse.

Get your copy today! It’s only $1.99, and on Smashwords Sonnet Coupled is only $1.00 for the next week! It’s back to work for me on edits for The Hotter They Come, and another novel I’m writing! Hope you all enjoy Flip the Beat! Let me know how you get on.

Love,

Roxanne

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07F91975X/

Boroughs Publishing Group: http://boroughspublishinggroup.com/books/flip-beat

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40649672-flip-the-beat

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/flip-the-beat

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/flip-the-beat-roxanne-d-howard/1129032378?ean=2940155322672

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/874148

Check out the book trailer on You Tube!

The post Free Chapter of Flip the Beat appeared first on Roxanne D. Howard, Author.

https://www.evernightpublishing.com/captivating-melody-by-katherine-mcintyre/

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Published on July 05, 2018 10:26

June 24, 2018

Captivating Melody by Katherine McIntyre New Release!

4 min read

Today I’m thrilled to have Katherine McIntyre on the blog to spotlight her new release with Evernight Publishing, Captivating Melody! I’ve known Kat for years, and she’s an exceptionally gifted author of many different genres. Check it out, and enjoy!

Cross a satyr, a siren, and an incubus with rock and roll, and you get Discord’s Desire, a band of panty-dropping hellions whose live shows incite orgies. As booking manager, Liz O’Brien has the monumental task of keeping the boys in line. She’s resistant to glamour of the fae and fame variety, which only makes her more tempting to lead singer, Kieran Blackmore. With his incubus charms, he could have any girl he wants—except Liz, who’s determined to stay professional.

However, when Kieran’s brother sends hitmen after the band, Liz discovers hunters with her abilities who are mortal enemies of the fae. Mercenaries might attack post-show, but Liz has her Beretta to handle that. What terrifies her more than any monster is how she’s falling for Kieran, which triggers every ‘run-away’ sensor in her foster kid handbook. With war brewing between the hunters and the fae, their love can only end in heartbreak.

Links:

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/captivating-melody

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/843260

Excerpt:

“So, what, is all this dramatic bullshit a result of your brother being unable to pick up the phone and make a call?” Liz joked, nudging his leg with her boot.

Kieran snorted. “Sadly, that sounds too much like them.” He stared at the sky before them, memories floating in like the lavender clouds crowding the moon. His throat dried, causing him to swallow. He didn’t want to remember the cries of the humans they’d kept in closets to feed from or the balls they’d dragged him to as a kid where he watched the true monsters hide behind masks of politeness. Years might make the memories easier to avoid, but every time he recalled the disappointment in their eyes, the phrase ‘failure of the family’ sliced into him fresh.

Until he’d formed Discord’s Desire, he hadn’t understood what being part of a real family meant. Where people gave a shit about what happened to you, not what you meant to their social currency. The guys had provided the home he’d never known.

She nudged at him with her boot again. “No getting all gloomy on me. The nickname narrows it down, so we’ll hit up your brother and tell him to back the fuck off. Case closed.”

A bitter smile hit his lips. “My brother will deny any accusations. My kind are talented at twisting the truth. Unless we caught him in the act with solid proof, the Courts wouldn’t lift a finger. Not much different from your human law enforcement.” He leaned his head against the side of the RV and stared up.

“Not my human anything,” she murmured, staring at her hands. The sadness in her voice, a brief gasp of vulnerability she didn’t share with any of them snared him at once. “I’m not human, I’m not fae, and my own kind—whoever they may be, haven’t come to claim me.” Even though bitterness edged her tone, he caught the sheer agony beneath those words and understood how it felt to always be on the outside.

“You belong here, with us,” he said, his voice deepening with his conviction. Her hazel eyes softened for a moment as she looked at him, and for a moment he saw the Liz O’Brien residing behind all the snarky comments.

Katherine McIntyre is a feisty chick with a big attitude despite her short stature. She writes stories featuring snarky women, ragtag crews, and men with bad attitudes—high chance for a passionate speech thrown into the mix. As an eternal geek and tomboy who’s always stepped to her own beat, she’s made it her mission to write stories that represent the broad spectrum of people out there, from different cultures and races to all varieties of men and women. Easily distracted by cats and sugar.

Author Links:

http://www.katherine-mcintyre.com

http://www.facebook.com/kmcintyreauthor

http://www.twitter.com/pixierants

https://www.facebook.com/groups/1816179461992109/

https://www.amazon.com/default/e/B00J8U4VNU

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6473654.Katherine_McIntyre

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/duIScb

The post Captivating Melody by Katherine McIntyre New Release! appeared first on Roxanne D. Howard, Author.

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Published on June 24, 2018 17:17

June 21, 2018

Flip the Beat is Up for Pre-Order!

1 min read

It’s here! I’m thrilled to announce that Flip the Beat is available for pre-order on Boroughs Publishing’s website. Purchase your copy of this fun, sexy novella here:

Boroughs Publishing: https://tinyurl.com/flipthebeat

Flip the Beat

Molly Ivers thinks she is falling for the opposite of Prince Charming, and she knows she should give him up, but, oh, the temptation.

WHEN YOU WISH UPON A STAR

Molly Ivers thought she found Prince Charming, complete with a devilishly sexy accent, and six months ago she gave into their undeniable attraction. But the swarm of ever-present groupies was so not part of the fairy tale. As much as it hurt her heart, she shut out rocker Evan Castle.

Now, on the verge of finishing her graduate degree and moving to Paris—she even hires a French life coach—Molly begins to realize Evan, who hasn’t given up on her, might be the man of her dreams after all.

WHAT’S NEW:

I’m currently knee-deep in a sea of edits for The Hotter They Come and When You Close Your Eyes, guys! I have nothing but spicy, steamy romance novels coming your way back to back over the next six months, so stay tuned and get ready to enjoy! If Sci-Fi’s your thing, I also have a Science Fiction novel, Astraeus, releasing on October 23rd with Immortal Works. Get your copy reserved of Flip the Beat today, and stay tuned for all the new releases coming your way! Make sure you enter the $25.00 Amazon gift card giveaway I have going right now!

Love,

Roxanne

Read Romance by Roxanne:

Sonnet Coupled

The post Flip the Beat is Up for Pre-Order! appeared first on Roxanne D. Howard, Author.

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Published on June 21, 2018 11:14

June 13, 2018

New Cover and Hot Book Trailer for Flip the Beat!

0 min read

Hey, Romance Readers!

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Published on June 13, 2018 11:49

June 9, 2018

Win SONNET COUPLED, other romance novels, and an eReader!

0 min read

Hi Romance Readers,

Today, I have a fun surprise I’d like to share with you!

I’ve teamed up with 40+ fantastic authors to give away a collection of erotic romance ebooks, and there will be TWO lucky winners!

The Grand Prize winners will receive 40 ebooks, plus a brand new eReader!

Oh, and did I mention you’ll receive a collection of FREE ebooks just for entering? ;D

You can win my novel SONNET COUPLED, plus books from other authors.

Enter the giveaway starting on June 10th by clicking here: http://bit.ly/eroticromance-jun18

Good luck, and enjoy! Watch for my cover reveal and book trailer for Flip the Beat, coming out July 10th with Boroughs Publishing. Save the date so you can buy your copy!

Love,

Roxanne

The post Win SONNET COUPLED, other romance novels, and an eReader! appeared first on Roxanne D. Howard, Author.

Facebook Author Page: Erica Lynn – Erotic Romance Author

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Published on June 09, 2018 17:55

June 5, 2018

Scorching Hot Erica Lynn Books Out Now!

19 min read

In the mood for a great summer poolside read? Well, you guys aren’t going to want to miss this! Erica Lynn’s sizzling Love and Justice series has released on Amazon! Go check them out, Romance Readers! I loved this fun, award-winning series. Erica’s a great author and knows what her readers like.

Blurb:

Lexie Hayes knows her marriage is over. After working endlessly to fix things, she’s decided to move on and find happiness elsewhere. The last thing she needs is to run into her sexy-as-hell brother-in-law at a nightclub on her birthday. He’s cocky, arrogant, and so damn kissable she can barely hold on to her sanity.

Jonathon Hayes has always wanted his sister-in-law. She’s gorgeous, feisty, and unbeknownst to her, married to the largest drug supplier in the Houston and San Antonio areas. When fate puts them side by side, lust and tensions run high. He wants her and he knows she wants him.

Can he keep his feelings on a shelf long enough to keep her safe while he dethrones his drug lord brother, or will temptation overwhelm good sense and put them both on a path to destruction?

Excerpt:

Walking straight toward her like a man possessed, he grabbed her hips and lifted her enough to walk her backward, pinning her to the wall. Her eyes opened wide as she leaned her head back, flattening her palms on either side of her. If she gave him the okay, he’d have her in bed for sure. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he placed his palm on her chest right beneath her collarbone. His hand lifted and lowered with her quick, shallow breaths; he slowly inched it up until he cradled her chin and neck. Her skin was soft and silken, like he’d known it would be. His erection swelled almost painfully against his jeans, and as he nestled it against her tummy, he could feel the heat from her sex. Slowly, he licked his lips and lowered his mouth until it hovered above hers. “Want to play a game?”

“Wh-what?” she asked breathlessly.

Her stare bored into his as he bunched up the bottom of her skirt until he could see a sexy-as-hell pair of red lace panties. He wanted, no, he needed to see what was beneath those panties.

“What are you doing?” she asked, making no move to stop him.

“What I’m doing is getting us ready for our game, baby. This game is called Wet and Get. I’m going to stick my hand in those cock-tease panties of yours, and if I find that you’re not wet, I’ll walk out of this house right now.” He pointed his thumb toward the front door.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he quickly leaned down and bit her bottom lip, hard. As her eyes widened, he released her lip and soothed the spot with his tongue. “But if I find that your sweet little pussy is nice and wet for me, and judging how you’re rubbing your thighs together I’m pretty positive it is, then I finally get it.” He squeezed her mound to emphasize his point. “And darlin’, you have no idea how much I want you.”

“We… We can’t,” she whispered pitifully, as if the words hurt her.

“Why the hell not?” He let out a frustrated sigh. It took every bit of restraint he had to keep himself from slowly rubbing his cock against her. “I know you’re hurting, and I know you want me as badly as I want you. Please, darlin’, let me be the one to stop your ache.”

She practically moaned at his words. “I’m married. I’m married to your brother.” She emphasized that point like he’d somehow forgotten his shit luck. As if he could ever forget the one woman who made his heart thunder had promised herself to someone else. Someone not worthy of her.

“If you can tell me, honestly, that you don’t want this”- he pushed against her with his erection – “then I’ll stop right now and leave. But tell the truth and don’t run from it for once. We both know we need each other, for what reason, I have no fucking clue, but it’s the truth.” Rubbing his nose against hers, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “You want to know a secret?” He leaned forward and slowly took her earlobe between his teeth, smiling at her hungry moan before murmuring in her ear, “Dean’s a little twat, and he doesn’t deserve you. If he treated you well, that’d be one thing, but I know he doesn’t because I’ve fucking seen it, and you’re too good to try to get out. You tell me, right now, that you don’t feel what we have, and I’ll walk out that door.”

Her throat moved as she swallowed, her breathing heavy and ragged. After a brief stare-down, she finally spoke. “Of course I want you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my entire life.” She lowered her eyes toward her panties as if silently daring him. Dare taken, baby. He placed his forehead against hers, lightly slid his fingertips underneath the elastic top of her panties, and continued downward.

Author Bio:

Erica Lynn is the author of yummy, erotic goodness. She lives in Houston, TX with her husband, daughters, and dogs. She considers the beach to be her happy place and, as fate would have it, fell in love with her husband after a day of sun and sand.

She’s a self-proclaimed reality TV junkie, and especially loves The Real Housewives. In her few and fleeting spare moments, she loves to settle down with a nice glass of wine and a sexy book.

Social Media Links:

Snapchat: MsEricaLynn85

Buy Links:

Facebook Author Page: Erica Lynn – Erotic Romance Author

Blurb:

When Lynette Montgomery’s older sister dies from breast cancer, she quickly steps in to take care of her two young nephews. The boys are sweet, caring, and Lynette has no idea what she’s doing. Terrified of failing her sister, she does everything she can to present herself as the parental figure she feels the boys need, even swearing off the sexy-as-can-be cop she just so happened to have a one-night stand with outside of her best friend’s house.

Robert Barletta is a decorated and respected cop with the San Antonio PD. After having just played a key role in bringing down Houston and San Antonio’s largest drug operation, he should be on top of the world. Unfortunately for him, he can’t get that one night with a smoking hot blonde temptress out of his head.

When he’s forced to take some time off, and the two come face to face, will they be able to keep their attraction on the back burner? Or has this game of cat and mouse just started?

Excerpt:

“Why did you need a vibrator in the first place?” he asked, tongue slowly gliding up and down her neck. “If you need help with something, all you have to do is ask.” He looked up and gave her a smile that she suspected incinerated every woman’s panties in a fifty-mile radius, and hers were no exception. Well, she wouldn’t have been an exception if she were wearing any, a realization that she was suddenly all too aware of as she felt her warm arousal beginning to coat her upper thighs.

“I didn’t know if you’d be interested in another, you know.” She was such an idiot. After what they’d done last time and the things they’d said, she was still shy?

“Another what, angel? Another fuck?” He dropped his hands to her breasts and fondled her nipples through her robe. “You should know by now that I can’t turn down anything you want. All you have to do is give the command.”

Could she be with him again? She’d said no relationships for a while after she got the boys, but this wasn’t a relationship. It just so happened that fate had dropped her a deliciously decadent present in the form of Robert Barletta on this weekend away; was she supposed to ignore that? Who was she to say “Eff you” to fate? That was plain bad manners.

Decision made, she summoned up every ounce of courage she had. With shaking fingers, she reached for the belt on her robe and slowly untied it so that it fell open, revealing herself to him. She felt him grow harder as he looked down at her body.

“Yes, please. I’d like another fuck.”

Author Bio:

She’s a self-proclaimed reality TV junkie, and especially loves The Real Housewives. In her few and fleeting spare moments, she loves to settle down with a nice glass of wine and a sexy book.

Social Media Links:

Snapchat: MsEricaLynn85

Buy Links:

Facebook Author Page: Erica Lynn – Erotic Romance Author

Blurb:

Rosie Hobbs is in trouble. Big trouble. The kind of trouble that has her scared to leave her apartment. When she first met Aaron he was a fun guy who liked to have a good time. Just the kind of man she prefers. But when he wants more, and she tells him she’s not interested, he loses it. Continuous phone calls, showing up where she’s at, vandalizing her property… She finds herself turning to an unexpected protector, her best friend’s ridiculously sexy brother.

Conner Montgomery is a lawyer and he deals with this type of BS every day. However, something about Rosie has him crossing the professional line. Is it her gorgeous smile? Her charm? Or the fact that he can’t even look at her without imagining her body wrapped around his? Whatever the case, when Aaron shows up at a get-together and scares Rosie half to death, Conner’s determined to make sure he can’t get anywhere near her again.

When the stakes get higher, and the threats more real, will Conner be able to keep Rosie protected, or will their soaring passion cloud their judgment?

Excerpt:

Conner yanked off his shirt, then made haste removing his shoes, socks, and jeans. He walked toward Rosie but stopped when he got directly in front of her. He’d fantasized about this nonstop, and it was going to go his way. Rosie liked to feel in charge, and that was fine with him, but not when she was in his damn bed. “Take off my boxers.”

Rosie swallowed and then did as she was told. She had to drop down to her knees to get them all the way off, and he fought the urge to feel himself in her mouth again. When she was done, she stood and looked at him expectantly. Yeah, something told him she loved being told what to do.

“Get on the bed and take off your dress.” Conner instructed through clenched teeth.

Rosie turned and walked to the bed, then bent over and crawled to the center on her hands and knees. Her ass swayed side to side in the air, her panty-clad pussy peeking out from beneath her dress. When she’d made it to the center, she turned to face him, still on her knees. She grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head, discarding it on the floor. She looked like a fucking goddess, her face flushed, lips swollen from her killer blowjob, wearing a provocative lacy black bra and panty set that perfectly hugged her voluptuous body.

“Now the bra.” Conner fisted his erection and began to stroke it as he watched her hastily rid herself of the garment. He smiled and walked toward her. “It would seem someone is in a hurry.”

“Yes,” she panted.

“Why are your legs shaking, baby?”

“Because I want you. I need you.”

“Soon, baby; but first, lie down.”

She paused for a second, then did as he instructed.

“Spread your legs for me.” He hissed under his breath when her legs fell to the side. Her panties were wet in the center from her arousal, and he had to grip the base of his dick hard to keep from coming. “Show me how you touched yourself.”

Rosie squirmed against the bed, no doubt in as much agony as he was, if not more. She trembled as she slid her fingers underneath the elastic of her panties, then cried out when they came in contact with her clit.

He watched as she pleasured herself, her fingers dipping in and out of the fabric. When he couldn’t take another second of the exquisite torture, he bent down in front of her and sucked on her sex through her panties.

Author Bio:

She’s a self-proclaimed reality TV junkie, and especially loves The Real Housewives. In her few and fleeting spare moments, she loves to settle down with a nice glass of wine and a sexy book.

Social Media Links:

Snapchat: MsEricaLynn85

Buy Links:

Facebook Author Page: Erica Lynn – Erotic Romance Author

Blurb:

Kara Smith is stressed to the max. She’s close to losing the bar she inherited from her grandfather, she’s exhausted from taking care of her alcoholic father, and to top things off, she’s losing precious clientele to a new nightclub in Houston. She’s so desperate, she’s actually considering the insane proposition her best friend, Trevor Black, has made. Marry him, and he’ll make sure she keeps her bar.

William Richardson is the son of Carl Jones, as in the Carl Jones…the owner of many of the amazing nightclubs in Houston. Carl has come up with his best idea yet, if only he can get Kara to sell her bar. If William can make sure this happens, he’ll be handed over his father’s empire. And hey, William and Kara can’t stand each other, so it should be easy, right?

But after an intensely steamy night where they set aside their feud and bond in the most erotic of ways, will he still be able to convince her to let go of her bar? Will he even want to?

Excerpt:

William didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the invitation. He delved into her mouth, her tongue hot and wet, and he could barely contain a groan as it slid against his. He placed his hand in her hair and tilted her head back, deepening the kiss. his other hand fell just below her belly button, and as his fingers flirted with the top of her shorts, he knew he’d die if he didn’t’ get his mouth on what lay beneath them. “Can I taste you?”

Kara quickly nodded and began to fidget with her button and zipper.

He smiled against her mouth, then licked the seam of her lips before pulling the bottom one between his teeth. He walked her backward until she stood against the bar. He moved her shaking hands and unzipped her shorts, but before he could tug them down, she reached down and stopped him.

“Wait, I forgot something. We can’t do this right now.” Her face was flushed and her breathing ragged, her heaving chest pushing her breasts against her shirt.

“Why the fuck not?” he asked.

“I…” Kara looked around, clearly embarrassed about something. What could be so terrible they’d have to stop was beyond him. “I didn’t shave.”

William couldn’t help but chuckle; like a little hair would stop him from feasting on that gorgeous pussy. Her gorgeous pussy. He leaned in and kissed her again, swallowing her moan as he reached inside her shorts and panties and plunged his fingers deep inside her wet heat. “It feels perfect to me, baby. Do you usually shave it all?” Kara nodded as she rocked herself forward and backward against his hand. “Well…don’t. I like a little texture on my tongue.”

Author Bio:

She’s a self-proclaimed reality TV junkie, and especially loves The Real Housewives. In her few and fleeting spare moments, she loves to settle down with a nice glass of wine and a sexy book.

Social Media Links:

Snapchat: MsEricaLynn85

Buy Links:

The post Scorching Hot Erica Lynn Books Out Now! appeared first on Roxanne D. Howard, Author.

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Published on June 05, 2018 15:06

June 2, 2018

New Releases, New Publisher, New Giveaways- Heck, New EVERYTHING!

2 min read

Phew. That’s a lot of “News”, no?

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Published on June 02, 2018 18:16

May 6, 2018

When You Close Your Eyes Character Art and Casting

14 min read

Hi there, Romance Readers!

Well, as you’ve probably gathered if you subscribe to my monthly newsletter, the publish date for When You Close Your Eyes (formerly published with Loose Id as At the Heart of the Stone) has been delayed. The novel will be under contract with a new publisher shortly in an effort to better sustain the integrity of the storyline. I’ll have news soon! In the meantime, please enjoy this beautiful artwork of Lark and Niall by artist Bianca Duarte. This is the first character art I’ve ever had commissioned of the couple.

Bianca drew the characters based on actors Lilly Collins and Irish-born actor Rory Fleck-Byrne, both whom I would love to have cast as the characters if the book was ever made into a movie.

Enjoy this excerpt from the novel below, and be sure to enter the $25.00 Gift card giveaway which ends on May 30th! I will have news on the novel soon!

Excerpt:

Knuckles brushed her cheek, and the weight of his gaze fell on her. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

Lark gave up her blind fight and self-lamentations as his lips pressed against hers. “Mmm, yes,” she moaned between kisses. “Kiss me, God, yes. I don’t want to feel anything anymore but you.” The freedom of the darkness emboldened her. She touched his chest and encountered the lapels of a jacket. She yanked him down, moaned, and sucked his lower lip between her teeth.

His body yielded to her, but his kisses changed. Where they had demanded and enticed before, they became timid and reluctant.

Yet the more she gave to him—putting her arm around his neck and releasing the fury of her frustrations out on him—the more he relaxed and responded. Tentative at first, with a hint of reluctance he’d never shown before. What was this? A cool breeze blew past her face, and a sense of déjà vu of the night before overtook her.

* * * *

If the kiss had stayed careful and guarded, she might have continued to question it. But the blindfold disappeared. She’d fallen asleep. Her eyes flew open, and he was there. Oh my God. He was there! Heated eyes watched her. Rakish dark hair fell over his forehead as he breathed hard, and the morning sun lit up the world behind him. She shuddered and took a deep breath to speak, but his hands moved to cup her face. He held still and closed his eyes as his lips took her mouth. Right then and there, it was crystal clear this was real. This was the weight of a real man on top of her, clothed. He smelled citrusy and freshly laundered. What in the hell is this?

How did he get here? He was only her dream lover.

Or was he?

Confused beyond all comprehension, Lark didn’t have any time to contemplate a single thing. His lips delivered a breath-stealing, soul-shattering kiss, and then they were all over each other. This, ah, this she knew. Lark hooked her ankle over his, put a hand on his shoulder, and tried to rid him of his jacket as she drew him closer. She fisted his hair as he devoured her mouth. He tasted the same as her dream lover, and she put her tongue in his mouth to savor more of his tangy sweetness.

They both made noises they never had in her dreams, breathy gasps and blasts of air as their mouths met and separated as they sought new angles and depths to their passion.

He made a disgruntled sound as he tried to get more comfortable in the cradle of her hips over the hindrance of clothes. This wasn’t a dream. He nibbled on her lower lip as she opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but then she was carried away in the undercurrent of his large, warm hands, which caressed the skin of her stomach beneath her hoodie and T-shirt. She continued to accept his kisses but pawed her still zipped-up sweat jacket. Okay, so she was still clothed. He was rock hard against her, and he ground his hips into her. A disbelieving grunt escaped his lips. Lark rolled her eyes back, shivering at the jolt that went through her.

“Wh— Mmm. Whoa. Stop,” She managed against his mouth. She furrowed her eyebrows and scrutinized him as he breathed in and out. He braced himself on the weight of his hands above her, his bright green eyes bearing into hers. His face was the face of her dreams—the sensual, bowed lips and cleft chin, the built body, and the thick hair. His hair… She blinked. It was cut at the nape and styled for a day at work. She glanced at his clothes.

“Um, why are you wearing a suit and tie this time?” She squinted against the sunlight. Please, God, let this be a dream. He moved his head, and put her in shade.

“This time?” He lifted an eyebrow, perplexed. “You’ll have to forgive me, lass, but I’ve no idea what the devil you’re talking about.” He maneuvered himself off her and sat upright at the end of the swing.

She tucked her feet against her, sat up, and blinked at him in utter disbelief.

“I came to knock on the door when I saw you on the swing. You tossed and turned, and with the way you grunted, I assumed you were in the middle of some sort of a seizure.”

He turned his head and licked his lips, full and abused from her kisses. A mushroom cloud of mortification bloomed inside her, steadily bigger by the minute.

“Erm, you…begged me to kiss you, and then you yanked me down. One thing led to another and, well, that was pretty much the way of it. I am only human, though I know it’s no excuse.” He swallowed and stared at her, his Adam’s apple moving in his throat. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have gone down when you pulled me, but it was strange—like you knew me or something.”

Lark leaned forward and rubbed her eyes. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a hallucination. When she opened her eyes, she’d see a man in his fifties with a receding hairline, glasses, and a beer gut. She reopened her eyes, and there he was: The full package. In the flesh. He was impossibly sexy, but there was an air of intelligence in the way his eyes scrutinized her. She planted her feet on the porch, then put a hand to her head. The vertigo from earlier returned. “No, I’m sorry. I was dreaming…”

“Excuse me for saying so, but it must’ve been one hell of a dream.”

Lark nodded and tried not to black out as a wave of dizziness came over her.

“You look like you’re dehydrated. Hold on.”

The lilt of his familiar Irish accent soothed her like warm milk. He stood and walked over to a black laptop case propped near the front door that had several thick manila folders sticking out of its open center. One read BRAITHWAITE in large, capital letters on an index label. He crouched, unzipped the front pocket, and extracted an unopened plastic water bottle.

He unscrewed it and held it out to her. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She accepted the bottle and took a long sip. It instantly revived her. She wiped a little water off the corner of her mouth with the top of her knuckle as he watched. She offered it back to him, but he shook his head and reclaimed his seat next to her.

“Keep it. Drink.”

“Thank you.” She closed her eyes and took several large gulps, the cool liquid a balm to her throat.

“My name’s Niall O’Hagan.”

His voice was deep and pleasant. It sounded different, lighter than the sultry bedroom voice she was used to from her dreams.

“I’m the Braithwaites’ attorney.”

Lark paused in midsip and lowered the bottle in her hands. “You—no.” She glanced at him.

His mouth lifted at the corners, as if it dawned on him he was the butt of a joke he wasn’t aware of. “I…what?”

Oh, the irony of dreaming about her father’s lawyer this whole time. Oh my God. She giggled like a madwoman. This was it; she’d officially lost it. She rose and walked to the top step of the porch, put a hand over her face, and plunked herself down. “I am so messed up.”

An unwanted flash of Gemma’s flirtatious “darlin’” to Charles yesterday surfaced, and tears stung her eyes. She went silent and willed them not to fall. It was no use.

After a moment, Niall sat on the step beside her. “I’d offer you a drink, but I quit ten years ago.”

Lark laughed, despite the tears. “An Irish attorney who doesn’t like Guinness is like an Englishman who doesn’t like fish and chips or something.”

“I know; shameful,” he said with mock contrition. “Don’t hold it against me. I’m doing the world a favor. Trust me. I was a horrible drunk. Are you okay, miss?”

Lark scoffed and gesticulated with her hands to the sky. “It’s Lark. And what a loaded question of the day.” She couldn’t look at him, not after what happened. She clenched the edge of the step on either side of her and stared out at the trees.

“Well, since we’ve already nailed second base, we might as well be open with each other. Forgive me if I’m candid, but it seems you were in the throes of an alleged, eh, intense dream, and you awoke and believed I was him. Is that right?”

Horror dawned on her at what she’d done, and her jaw dropped. “No!” Yes. She glanced at him, and his knowing expression begged to differ.

“I see,” he said, his tone careful but persistent. “Then why did you kiss me like that?”

“I-I don’t have to answer.” She lifted her chin with defiance.

He scooted closer to her. “No, you don’t. But I wish you would.”

She scratched her head in frustration and jumped up. Screw this, she needed to get inside before she made even more of an idiot of herself.

“I’m sorry to embarrass you,” he said, and she paused with her hand halfway to the doorbell. “I’m decent. I would never— I never meant to take advantage of you at all, please know that. When you kissed me like you did, so familiar, I…”

It occurred to her Niall was a lot more of a gentleman about the whole situation than most men would be. And she, meanwhile, was being a total bitch. And the poor guy had no clue as to why.

He met her in two nimble strides. His proximity alarmed her, because they’d never both stood in any of her dreams. He was a big guy, at least six-foot-three, well built with wide shoulders and a lithe, muscular frame to complement the height.

He stepped even closer and assessed her in return, appearing to like what he saw. His mouth opened to speak, and his eyes widened with realization. “Wait. Lark? Lark, Lark? Rick’s daughter? But… You’re so little,” he said, surprised. “From the pictures, I assumed you’d be, erm—”

“Fatter?” she asked, glad she was at least back on sure ground. She could always toss self-effacing jokes around about her heavy days. “It’s okay. You can go ahead and say it. I’ve lost a lot of weight.”

Niall put a hand to the back of his neck. His eyebrows rose. “I think ‘a lot’ is an understatement. Good on you. My mam struggled with her weight too; I know how hard it was for her to lose it. My hat’s off to anyone who has to do it. Well, you look amazing. Wow.”

He rolled his eyes at himself and glanced away. She was so used to his prowess as a smooth sex panther in her dreams. This was bizarre as hell.

“I’m sorry. God, I sound like an idiot. Look, I hope you don’t think I’m a leering wanker or anything. This is…awkward.”

“You can say that again,” she murmured. What would he say if she told him she’d been having erotic dreams of him every night for the last six months? It was bad enough she’d just made out with him. He probably had her pegged as a crazy nymphomaniac.

She held out her hand but didn’t make eye contact. “Listen, how about we forget it ever happened, okay? I’m Lark Braithwaite. I flew in a couple of days ago from London.”

He took her hand and closed his long fingers over hers. “Niall O’Hagan. Pleasure.” He stepped closer. “And I’m all for a clean slate, but forgetting’s not on my agenda, lass. I’m taking it to the grave. Hands down the best snog I’ve ever had in my life. Client’s daughter or no, you can’t take it back.”

The post When You Close Your Eyes Character Art and Casting appeared first on Roxanne D. Howard, Author.

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Published on May 06, 2018 16:48

April 6, 2018

Lord Blackwell’s Rude Awakening: My Process – Guest Post by Julie Tetel Andresen

8 min read

I’m so pleased to have Julie Tetel Andresen on the blog today. I’ve known Julie for over a year, and she is an amazing individual with tremendous insight. Julie is a linguistics professor at Duke University, and she has written over twenty romance novels and novellas. She’s here today to share thoughts on her writing process. Enjoy, this is a great read with a lot of valuable information, and I love any opportunity to have Julie guest post! Julie, welcome. It’s always a pleasure to have you.

______________________________________________________________________________

Lord Blackwell’s Rude Awakening: My Process

Julie Tetel Andresen

March 24, 2018

For more than a year I’ve been on a tear writing historical short stories: John Carter’s Conundrum, Georgian London, 32,000 words; A Most Curious Courtship, Regency London, 31,000 words; The Red Palace, Victorian-era India, 28,500 words; and Lord Blackwell’s Rude Awakening, Regency London, 26,000 words.

My wonderful editor, the talented Selina McLemore, had a few suggestions for the first three stories, all of which were easy to execute … and then we come to Lord Blackwell’s Rude Awakening. In her editorial letter she wrote the dread words: “I don’t think this story is currently realizing its full potential” and then outlined over the next seven pages all that was wrong with it.

My first reaction: What’s wrong with her? I really liked that story! Next: Hm, everything Selina has ever told me has always been spot on. Finally, I remembered the words we writers live by: You never learn anything from success.

Straight up: I’d written a dud.

Time for a deep breath. Also time to dig into the criticism.

After Selina sends her editorial letter she schedules a one-hour telephone conversation to discuss the story. I always take copious notes on our conversations, and I scribble them on the editorial letter I print out. Sometimes I just need paper.

Here is page 2 from her letter with my hand-written notes from our conversation. There is no correct orientation:

I jotted on at least three of the seven pages. These notes may not seem like much, but they were enormously helpful, and I referred to them constantly while I was revising.

What I did wrong: Between Selina’s letter and our conversation I came to understand that I had written half a story. The difference between the first three stories mentioned above and the Lord Blackwell fiasco was characterization.

In the first three stories the two main characters were evenly matched personality-wise, meaning that they could find their path to each other more quickly, thereby making the pace appropriate for a short story. The first three stories were also sexy historicals where I played with various scenarios foregrounding nudity.

In Lord Blackwell I threw the main characters into a marriage of convenience and established them on their wedding night in a light BDSM relationship, which made for a lot of nudity and hot bedroom scenes. Because I was still in the mind-set of the first three stories, I thought I was done.

The problem was, I had paired a seemingly plain heroine who was comfortable in the country with a sophisticated man-about-town hero, and I didn’t sufficiently develop their relationship outside of the bedroom. In short-changing the emotional development I forced myself into a somewhat nonsensical, which is to say, histrionic ending, where the heroine had to over-emote (out of character) in order for me to achieve the ending (I thought) I needed – and that was only one of the problems.

The lesson I keep on learning: It’s never the sex alone that makes for a good romance, even when the emphasis is on eroticism. It’s fundamentally about the emotional bond that forms, even if a good sexual relationship is established first.

How I fixed the problem: I came to understand that the first version of my story was like the negative of a photo (remember those?). I wanted to keep my characters the way they were, because I liked them, and they were sexually well matched. So good for me, their dark physical chemistry was already on the page. I now needed to create lots of white spaces to allow for the trajectory of their respective emotional journeys. Thus I had to add a lot more scenes outside the bedroom and more opportunities for dialogue inside the bedroom.

Here is how I kept track of my chapter-by-chapter revisions. The single squares represent expansions of already existing scenes. The double squares (plus orange marker) represent whole new chapters.

In other words, I added completely new Chapters 2, 9, 10, 15, 16 and 17 and extended material in Chapters 1, 3, 4, 8, 11, 14, 18, 19 and 20. Only Chapters 5, 6, 7, 12 and 13 were relatively untouched, although I did have to make minor adjustments in all of them.

As you see, I work messy. My process itself is ragged with lots of disorder on my desk and lots of dishes in the sink. It’s through the mess (so I tell myself) that I find a way to make my finished product as shapely and as seamless as possible.

More to the point, I added about 80% more story, bringing the final word count to 45,000, thus making Lord Blackwell a novella. My scribbling on the margins of p. 2, above, indicates my initial predictions for my final word count. I circled 55,000. Although I didn’t go as long as I thought I might, I’m satisfied I now have a whole story.

Once I overcame the hit to my ego I really enjoyed doing the revisions.

Morals:

Make sure you have a really good editor.
Make sure you understand the emotional distance your characters need to cover in order to reach a satisfying body and soul connection.
Let your story dictate its length. Don’t determine in advance “This is a short story.” Yes, you have to have some sense of what you’re writing, and a short story won’t have multiple subplots and a cast of thousands. However, in a romance, you have to give the love relationship the space to grow, and different relationships require different spaces, that is, lengths.
In case you don’t have a good sense of #2 and/or #3, make sure you have #1.

Visit Julie at https://julietetelandresen.com/where you can download all four short stories for free: John Carter’s Conundrum, A Most Curious Courtship, The Red Palace and Lord Blackwell’s Rude Awakening.

For more on Selina see: https://julietetelandresen.com/five-questions-selina-mclemore/

About the Author

Julie Tetel Andresen has been writing romance stories for over 25 years. She started her career as an author being published by Harlequin Books in the 80s writing historical romance tiles like My Lord Roland and Simon’s Lady.

With the rise of self-publishing, she found more creative freedom to publish her books on her own. Julie is a “romance generalist” who loves all romance subgenres and has written books in many of them, from contemporary romance to paranormal romance to BDSM and dark romance books with seedy undergrounds and a hard edge.

Julie loves to write and talk about being a romance author and has been featured in articles at Huffington Post, Quartz, and Salon.

The post Lord Blackwell’s Rude Awakening: My Process – Guest Post by Julie Tetel Andresen appeared first on Roxanne D. Howard, Author.