Taylor Tryst's Blog, page 2

Defending Lace: 2014 Relaunch of Leather and Lace

Today is the big day for the relaunch of Leather and Lace. There were about a dozen or so books on Amazon with the same title, so I've decided for marketing reasons to change the name from Leather and Lace to Defending Lace.This book was originally published by Ellora's Cave in 2007.Yes, it's hard to believe it's been so long ago. A lot has changed in my life since then, but I'm back home in the Phoenix area, reunited with family members I haven't seen in years and am about to join the Valley of the Sun writers group, which is the local chapter for RWA, which I recently re-joined as well.I needed to get back into the business aspects of writing because at some point during all the chaos, writing fell to the wayside. So I'm terribly stoked to get back to the basics of the business.
So, if you have time or the inclination, below is an excerpt from Defending Lace.Thank you,Taylor

“Oh,” Cleo gasped, her hand going to her mouth the moment she caught Luke’s attention waver. She turned her head to find that they weren’t alone in the elevator.She fought cursing aloud and pulled back, trying hard not to laugh. She nodded at the building’s new, uptight, pansy-ass owner, who must’ve just arrived home. He’d picked up his mail on the main floor and was headed up to his place. He’d recently purchased the building and had moved into the penthouse, so it was going to be a long ride.

Penthouse pretty much summed him up.

“Hey,” she said as nonchalantly as possible. She nodded and averted her gaze from his. She was as uncomfortable as hell in this suffocating space, and felt the heat in her face, which wasn’t a normal thing for her. She just didn’t blush, not usually anyway.

This was her chance to cool things off and get rid of Mr. Lace. She not so subtly adjusted her clothing, putting everything back into place. The thought of cooling off was fleeting, because the second she took half a step back, to put some distance between her and Penthouse, she backed into Luke.

His swollen shaft dug into her ass and she got a taste of what could be, a taste of what was to come, literally, if she relented to the desire riding her body, tweaking her nipples and filling her pussy with molten, liquid heat. She bit her bottom lip, withholding the gasp she’d nearly allowed to escape.

Lukas Lace was packing.

Either that or he had a .50 caliber Desert Eagle in his pants, and that was a mighty big weapon.

“Good day,” Penthouse mumbled with a stuffy nod. He worked the collar of his starched shirt and loosened his tie, fidgeting and as uncomfortable as Cleo herself. He wiped a bead of sweat from his furrowed brow, obviously feeling the heat, as if they’d all been a tad too close to the sun.
“Roger?” Luke did a double take. “Roger. How the hell’ve you been?”

Oh, fabulous.

“Lukas?” Roger Lace Pennington glanced at his cousin, his furrowed brow raised in shock. He folded his newspaper in half, stacked his mail on top and slid the neat bundle beneath his arm as he accepted Luke’s outstretched hand.

Giving it a stiff shake, Roger picked up Cleo’s vibe and avoided looking in her direction, for which she was grateful. They’d never actually spoken, though they’d seen each other around the building. To say they were in completely different leagues was a major understatement.

“Been quite some time,” Roger said. He tilted his head as if in contemplation. “At least five or six years. The family reunion, at the yacht club, if I recall correctly.”

“That’s right,” Luke said with a friendly smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How’s your father been?”

Luke backed against the wall as if trying to escape the conversation. It was a subtle move, but Cleo imagined he was trying to talk his cock down, though that might be impossible the way it was wedged between her ass cheeks.

And who was she to oblige? She shifted her weight, snuggled in a bit closer, and almost gasped when he palmed her hips, holding her in place against him.

“My father is…” Roger hesitated, as if searching for the correct word. His mild manner didn’t work, though. Cleo saw right through him. This guy was filled with resentment.

Interesting, very interesting.

Of course, she recognized him now. She’d traced the family tree, though Cousin Roger would now get a second look.

“He’s…well,” Roger said finally. “He’s doing quite well, thank you for asking.”

Roger’s slight shoulders were squared and his body board stiff. His jaw tight and locked. He didn’t look happy to see Luke one bit.

“Well, this is me.” Cleo took a step forward the moment the doors opened, grateful when Luke released her. She ran her hand through her hair, smoothing it from his incessant touch. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her or out of her hair.

Not that she’d minded much. Hell, it’d turned them both on, that much was obvious. She’d loved stroking his muscled back while his fingers had been tangled in her tresses, tugging her head back and opening her neck to his warm, relentless mouth and eager lips. She cleared her throat and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Have a great day, and thank you again, Mr. Lace.” She bolted. Her hands were trembling as she dug for her keys.

Jesus, she was a hot mess and ready to fuck his brains out.

“We should get together,” she overheard Luke say. “I’ll give you a call. You could come up to the cabin. We could have another reunion. Have a few beers, laugh about what geeks we were back in the day. It’s really been too long.”

Cleo fumbled with the keys and glanced back just as Luke’s hand popped out of the elevator to block the doors from sliding closed. He stepped into the corridor, his eyes finding and meeting hers immediately, not so much as waiting for his cousin’s reply. He was intent upon not allowing her to get away.

This was so out of control.

This was her chance to fix this entire flub, her one reprieve. Her chance to get back a little of the respect she’d probably lost by groping him in the elevator, corridor and lobby. His brother Tommy was the playboy, not Luke. Tommy dated models, the who’s who of the fashion and lingerie industries. He fucked a different woman every night. Hell, even Tommy couldn’t keep track of their comings and goings, pun intended.But Cleo knew that Luke was much more…selective. Women just weren’t that high up on his list of priorities. At least, not since he’d called it off with his ex-girlfriend, Kathryn.

Kate was beautiful and privileged and had appeared to run him ragged during their relationship. In short,

Cleo had decided that Kate was a high-maintenance bitch.

Unwittingly, their breakup had thrust Luke into the limelight.

Along with Brad, Angelina and Jennifer, Tom and Katie, and other Hollywood elites, their faces had graced the front page of the tabloids. Luke had taken center stage as America’s most eligible bachelor. She slid the key into the lock, released the deadbolt and turned to face him, refusing to look him in the eye. All she had to do was make it inside. If she could, she could keep from ruining this case anymore than she’d already done.She had to be quick about this. Painless was impossible at this point, but a simple goodbye would be the bullet that ended the suffering of them both.

Her body was still on fire, though.

The need to have him inside her had long ago taken over all rational thought. Her nipples were stone peaks at the very idea of his mouth and lips devouring them. They protruded from beneath her silk tank, begging to be fondled and kissed. To be suckled.

And damn it, she wanted to kiss him again, kiss him forever. Her panties were drenched and her pussy throbbing from the inside out. It made her wonder how wet she’d be if she’d actually fucked him.Which she couldn’t do, she promptly reminded herself.

Just couldn’t do.

“So, thanks for walking me back,” Cleo muttered, trying desperately to get rid of him. She finally lifted her gaze to his, and recognized the look there.

Pure determination.

He was a billionaire, a real-estate mogul who closed multibillion-dollar deals before lunch and his sights were set on her. She couldn’t help but love the thought, and damn it, that pissed her off in a major way.

“Do I have to steal your mail, or will you tell me your name?” Luke asked, the tone of his voice verging upon teasing, though he was dead serious. He crowded her, moved in a step at a time until she was fully backed against the unopened steel door and had nowhere else to go.

His mouth was inches from hers when he stopped, her breasts crushed against his powerful chest. She knew he could feel her nipples through the thin fabric, tiny, hard buds, ripened and ready to suckle. The worst of it was that she wanted him to use that devilish mouth on her in a myriad of ways.

“I can still taste you,” Luke told her. “I’m nowhere near done with you yet. Tell me your name,” he coaxed. “Please.”

Cleo’s instincts, that of an ex-cop turned detective, told her to conceal her personal information. It was her first instinct and she was undercover, after all. She didn’t fool herself, though. She knew she was in the business of lies. Using lies to seek out the truth, discovering lies that were carefully hidden within a well-told truth and disproving lies spoken by those with much truth to conceal.

It was what she did and she was the best in the business.

Yet, there was one thing she despised more than anything in the world, and that was a liar. Her ex-boyfriend had lied as if it were second nature. Hell, lying could have been his profession and she refused to become what she most despised. A compromise was in order.

“You have a business card?” she asked. She cocked her head to the side and gave Luke a quick grin.

“Maybe I’ll call you sometime.”

Knowing Luke was a man of means and would find out the truth all on his own, she decided it was better not to give him too much of a challenge.

Luke edged toward her, and Cleo turned the doorknob. He trailed her step for step into her loft. She backed up, focused entirely upon his piercing blue eyes. There was no defense against his attack.

This man played dirty.

Her back hit the door, which had stopped with a bang when it slammed into the wall in her living room. She shuddered. There was no escape.

Not that she wanted to flee.

“Tell me your name,” Luke said more firmly. His voice was deep and low enough to draw her in closer. He waited, his body not quite touching hers. She’d swear that there was an electrical current flowing between them, drawing them together like magnets.

Jesus, that sounded insane, but she didn’t know how else to describe it. She didn’t know if she could walk away if she had to. Every pore, every nerve in her body was responding to his on an innate level.

“You’re very stubborn, aren’t you, Mr. Lace?” Cleo was panicking now. She had to find a way to end this before it continued any further than it had.

While she could still salvage this case.

“One of my best qualities,” Luke said with a nod and that damned charming smile most women couldn’t resist.

“Ironic. So am I.” Cleo rested her head on the door and made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. She was trembling, but women like her didn’t quiver from the touch of a man.

She just couldn’t seem to take her eyes off his mouth. Those lips, warm and thorough, begging to be kissed, nipped and sucked. He had her pinned but the combination of the cool steel against her back and his sheer physical stature as he stood over her, was as erotic as hell.

For a woman who controlled every facet of her life meticulously, being dominated was against her nature. He was bulky, his expansive shoulders and rock-solid arms enveloping her. He stood several inches taller than she, his shirt pulled tight over the wide breadth of his chest.

She’d never felt this—feminine. This dominated.

She’d rolled around with the boys as a child. She’d mastered tag, as well as flag football, could tackle the biggest and the best and had even outrun the star quarterback in high school.She was a tomboy through and through.

She worked in a man’s world, played tough and had to labor even harder to be taken seriously when it came to wearing a gun and toting around a badge. She’d finally given up her career and had decided to work for herself but that still didn’t mean she could slack off.

A woman might have to be a bitch to gain a man’s respect but she had to prove herself worthy of that respect repeatedly.

Therefore, control was like air for her and this man made her feel like she couldn’t breathe. Yet, she had a desperate desire to relent, to allow him to control her, to fuck her until neither of them could move.

“Stubborn, well, I like to look at it as being persistent,” Luke corrected her with a twinkle in his eye.

“Persistence has allowed me to get what I want. I always get what I want, you know, Ms.—”

Oh no, she wasn’t that easy.

She knew he wasn’t spoiled. He wasn’t a tyrant, but when he wanted something, he went after it with everything he had. It was in his nature, part of his DNA, a Lace attribute that ran generations.She could see that it was killing him but he held back, waited. As if waiting for her to make some decision. As if he knew she was weighing the pros and cons and had to be the one to make the next move.

The bastard.

He was obviously a master at reading people. He’d spent his life maneuvering circumstances to his advantage, ensuring the success of Lace Incorporated. In the business world, Cleo had read that Lukas Lace could be merciless if required. She also knew that he didn’t enjoy it, but that he’d do whatever was necessary to ensure the success of the Lace legacy.

His father had taught him well.

Right now, merciless or not, she couldn’t think of anything but kissing him again. She was a head below his six-three and all he had to do was lean down just a bit and she could slide her lips over his. Hell, if that wasn’t tempting.

She knew he wouldn’t takethe kiss this time.

No.

This time he wanted her to make the move, to give him the signal to proceed. He seemed to want to release the animal within her, to make her step outside her normal boundaries and concede to whatever this was between them.

“What makes you think I’m offering what you want, anyway?” Cleo asked, in more of a statement than a question. She was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath upon her face.

“I’m all about negotiating the best terms,” Luke said with a crooked smile. “That’s my specialty,” he said with a wink.

God.
How could she not love this guy?

He had all the right answers, which usually annoyed the hell out of her. He was also invading her space and personal boundaries, a major no-no in her line of work. The fact that she didn’t want to kick his ass, however, said more than she wanted to consider.

“What exactly are your terms?” Cleo asked as he moved in closer and pressed her back to the door. Body to body, the steel hard against her back, she felt helpless and heard herself whimper.Actually, whimper. She should be pissed off at him, at herself. She should be frightened by her physical reaction to him. Instead, it felt so hot.

She wanted him to touch her, to explore her body. She wanted to feel him against her, flesh to flesh, to have him inside her, his hips thrusting, his cock invading her pussy, her legs spread wide and wrapped around his waist.

“One kiss,” Luke proposed. He cupped her waist with his hands, kneading her flesh with limber fingers. “Just one kiss.”

She knew if he wanted to, he could take her here. Ram her against the door. She saw the desire in his eyes, felt the bulge in his pants and saw the trickles of sweat that ran down his temple. He wasn’t so prim and proper after all.

She loved it.

She couldn't help but smile, knowing that she’d diminished his self-control. His money, his manners—none of it mattered.

Eyes wide, daringly, Cleo slid her lips over his in a tender kiss. Soft as a whisper, she teased, coaxing him along.

“Jesus—”Luke swallowed.

She could feel his control slipping. Even a man with his restraint had his limits.

“You taste…amazing,” he groaned. “Delicious champagne.”

“Champagne?”

“Dazzling, sweet, bubbly,” he whispered. “Can’t get enough.”

Her stomach danced as she leaned toward him and seized his mouth, harsh and hungry. Her tongue invaded his, darted in and out of his mouth, devoured him. She couldn't be sure who was seducing whom, and at this point, she didn't care. He pushed his body against hers and crushed her breasts against his chest. She ground her hips into his groin and his cock pulsed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and just as she imagined, shoved her fingers through his silky blond hair.

The kiss deepened and she tugged his head from side to side, working her tongue inside his mouth with fast, greedy strokes. She took what he gave and her job, her life, everything around her ceased to exist, the heat no longer smoldering between them but bursting into flame and fully consuming them both.

It was an inferno, a glorious fire raging with passion so consuming it was undeniable. He was making her insane, wet, hot and needy.

His heart raced, his breath coming in greedy gasps between kisses. She pulled back, her eyes locked onto his, her eyes wide, gasping for breath.

“Hurry,” she demanded, going in for seconds. She was ready to tear him apart. God, his mouth, his tongue, he was amazing. Tasted amazing, felt amazing. “Up—” she panted, “go, upstairs.” She backed him toward the private area of her loft, tearing at his shirt as she kicked the door closed.

She was being paid to learn everything she could about Lukas Nathanial Lace, after all, and she supposed this qualified. It was a dirty job but somebody had to do it.
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Happy Mother's Day: What It Means To You

Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there, whether by biology or the heart! I wanted to share with you all what Mother's Day means to me, so I'm posting three pictures.The middle pic I posted is of my mother and I, and was taken when I'd won an all-expense paid trip to Disney World several years ago. I NEVER win anything, so it was a shock!We stayed at the Grand Floridian (fabulous) in Disney World, and in five days went to all the parks, did some light shopping and rode all the fun (crazy) rides. My mom was a good sport about it. lolWe had the time of our lives! It was literally the best vacation either of us had ever had. I remember we had both thought about canceling the trip. Two adults going to Disney World? We almost felt guilty. But in the end, we'd decided to go and we were both so incredibly glad we did.The first picture I posted is of my little sister Denise and my nephew. She isn't with us anymore, and we miss her everyday, but today we're off to visit her at the VA cemetery at Ft. Snelling in Minneapolis/St. Paul. My nephew will pick out a bouquet of flowers and we'll visit for a bit. It's an overwhelming place, the VA cemetery. You can't help but experience and understand the great sacrifice made by each and every military member buried there the moment you pass through those heavy iron gates. It's there, in the very earth, in the white headstones lined into perfect rows.So, on this Mother's Day I'd also like to thank our military service members. Whether they died in battle or years later, they gave pieces of themselves to our country, they fought unselfishly for others, for an ideal so much bigger than themselves.And really, that's what being a mother is all about. Love and sacrifice.The third picture was taken just after my son was born. Oh boy, he had a set of lungs on him. He was screaming as they brought him to me. They placed him on my chest, I cooed at him and told him it was going to be okay, and he opened his eyes at the sound of my voice and looked right at me. He had the greenest hazel eyes. My eyes.He calmed right down at just the sound of my voice and looked at me so clearly, so intensely...in that one moment, I felt more love for that tiny little guy than I'd ever experienced in my life. And I knew, I'd do anything for him, anything to provide a good life, to protect him and help him flourish.Well, my little guy is 25 years old now. He's carving out an incredible life for himself, working his ass off every day. He studied under a master gunsmith and earned his gunsmith certificate, all on his own. He has an awesome job and outdoor skills that make him highly qualified for his position in a company that values him, and I couldn't be more proud.Mother's Day is a day to take stock, no matter where you are in your life. You think of your mother, your sisters, those aunts, cousins and relatives who made a difference in your life.There were so many. My aunt JoAnn Campbell, who passed away several years ago. She made sure that my sister and I always had a place to go for the holidays. We spent time with our little cousin, Shelley Boettge. We always had presents under her tree, and eggs and candy in our giant Easter baskets. We trick-or treated there every year, and that's when I learned firsthand that you do anything for family.My cousin, Brenda Blues, also passed away several years ago. She was fun, she stepped up to be a girl scout leader for my cousin Donna Smith and I. They took us camping, they held meetings, another mother who went above and beyond for her daughter, for the girls.Last, but certainly not least, there's my grandmother, Abigail Williamson. She took care of my sister and I while my mother worked. She helped raise us. She was spunky and fun and went camping and slept in a tent in Sedona up to the last years of her life. She was tough and fierce. She'd pick up and relocated a tarantula with a frickin' Kleenex and when I was in the fifth grade, she stood between me and another girl who was bullying and physically assaulting me.She wasn't very big, but she had so much heart! She was the true matriarch of the family and I hope more than anything that she's watching us all from heaven and that we've all made her proud.So, once again, Happy Mother's Day, ladies. If anyone would like, please feel free to share what Mother's Day means to you!~Taylor~

I was just pondering fate, just wondering what luck might...

I was just pondering fate, just wondering what luck might bring people into our lives? We somehow manage to find friends, peers or even acquaintances, to help us all upon our own journeys, and yet we are still surprised by having the good fortune to discover them. We only had to be aware, to open our eyes and hearts, and to be accessible to whatever destiny might bring in our direction. The trick is not wasting that blessing. Good night, all. {:

Now Available: Drake's Rules by Barbara Huffert from Ellora's Cave in Print

Megan Lewis has been alone ever since a bad experience in college left her afraid to trust her instincts about men. When she comes home from her morning bike ride to find her neighbor’s young daughter alone in the hallway, the last thing she expects is overwhelming surge of desire she feels the moment her panicked neighbor joins them.When Professor Drake Edwards loses his wife and son in a horrible accident he moves his daughter to a new town for a fresh start. He has no intention of getting involved with anyone. But when he finds his neighbor, Megan, watching over his daughter, his body has plans of its own. Can his heart and mind overcome the guilt he feels?


Drake’s Rules – Unedited Excerpt – R rated
“Touch me, Drake,” she urged as she arched towards him in invitation.Watching her expression, Drake caressed her sides. “Soft.” He reached higher and barely brushed the curve of her breasts. “Do you like this?” he asked when her nipples responded beneath the fabric.“Yeah,” she sighed, wanting more contact but unable to ask for it.“Can I take your top off? I want to look at you.” She nodded.Still watching her face, Drake slowly raised her shirt, not dropping his eyes until long after he bared her breasts. When his gaze finally lowered, Megan stopped breathing. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his hands returning to her ribs.“Please.” She leaned forward, clutching his arms.Drake lifted her with his palms as if testing the fit. Recapturing her gaze, he found her nipples with his thumbs. Instantly, they hardened into tight nubs.She gasped. “Drake.”“Shh.” He seemed to want to explore her slowly as if to savor every reaction. Her pulse quickened when he lowered his head, seeking another kiss as his hands roamed to her back. It was soon his turn to groan when Megan pressed her chest against his. Part of his mind knew she had no clue of how each deep breath caused her nipples to shift. The way her hands on his back mimicked his touch was inflaming his already aroused body.Teasing her lips from his, Megan nipped his jaw, soothing each bite with her tongue. Drake forced himself to let her investigate his torso in spite of his urgent need to do the same to hers. With one hand splayed on his stomach, her mouth drifted towards his nipple, tugging gently at his scant chest hair as she went. It took all he had to refrain from dragging her from the counter, stripping her bare, and taking her right there on the kitchen floor when her teeth reached their destination.“Megan,” he hissed when she caught his other nipple with her fingers, pinching and rubbing in imitation of her mouth. “Christ,” Drake growled as he coaxed her head from his body and captured her hand. “You’re forgetting the plan, babe. You know, the one where I do this to you. Where you sit back and enjoy while I make you feel good.”“Hmm.” She peeked up at him. “Guess I forgot. Can’t say that I’m sorry though.”“Me either but I can’t take much more of that.”“Mm.” Her sensuous smile lit up her face. “Guess that means it’s your turn to go exploring.”“Is it, Megan?” Drake needed continued assurance that she wanted him to continue.She shrugged, deliberately watching her chest. “Either that or I won’t be the one getting naked tonight.”“Stop trying to distract me, sweetheart. I might start thinking that you’re turning this around to keep me from touching you. If you’re not sure, just tell me to stop. You don’t have to trick me into it.”“I’m not,” she stuttered. “I mean, I wasn’t…oh. Maybe I was a little bit. But mostly, I just wanted to touch you. All of you.” Her hand fluttered over his erection.Drake inhaled sharply and snagged her wrist. “Stop tempting me.”“Oops,” she giggled.“You’re making me crazy. Just remember, paybacks can be a bitch.” For emphasis, he leaned forward and sucked as much of her breast as he could into his mouth, attacking her nipple with his tongue. The direct stimulation evoked the reaction he hoped for. Megan forgot all about reaching for him. Instead, her hands caught his head, holding him in place. She shivered when he paused to blow on her wet flesh before switching sides. He used one hand to fondle her as the other caressed every inch of exposed skin.Drake’s mouth left a trail of kisses as he nibbled his way back to her head. He tasted every inch of her face before he paused.“Megan?”“Mm.” She tried to capture his lips.“Tell me what you want me to do now.”
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Bitten and Defiant by Barbara Huffert: February 7, 2014, Ellora's Cave

Frankie Morgan's life was over. Her family was gone and she had nothing to live for, nothing safe revenge on the individual who took them from her. But to accomplish that she needed help. And who better to enlist than the hottest vampire around?But to accomplish that she needed help. And who better to enlist than the hottest vampire around?Kellen didn't know the woman who was stalking him but he sure wanted to. Intimately in fact. There was something going on and he needed to get to the bottom of it, to the bottom of her. He'd allowed her to watch him feed, something that simply wasn't done. Even then, with all his senses heightened, he still couldn't tap into her thoughts which had him more curious than he ever remembered being. Perhaps, after some out of control sex, she'd loosen up enough to share all her secrets with him.Bitten and DefiantFebruary 7, 2014Ellora's Cave

Recent Releases and Some You Might've Missed

Hello everyone,I've decided that I'm going to make an extra-determined effort to blog in 2014 and I wanted to share some recent releases or just a few that you might've missed. Hope you're all having a fabulous 2014.Enjoy,Taylor    Delight, Texas, Book 3

Lynn Halstead returns to Delight, Texas, with one objective in mind—finding a little revenge for a past trauma. Instead of dishing out a hefty dose of payback, however, she comes face-to-face with the one man she’s never been able to forget. But this time she gets to touch.

Ransom Dobbs lives a life of responsibility and regret. That’s what a man does, after all. The big, tough rancher is thrown for a loop by a sweet blast from his past. Lynn burns him with every look and every touch, but can she banish the ghost that torments him? Time and a whole lot of smoldering sex can grant this cowboy the happiness he craves, but only if he’s brave enough to risk his heart.

A Romantica® Western erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

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Written by: Cindy Spencer PapeNarrated by: Helen SternLength: 3 hrs and 18 mins Format: UnabridgedPolice inspector Sebastian Brown served Queen and country in India before returning to England to investigate supernatural crimes alongside the Order of the Round Table. If his wifeless, childless life feels a little empty sometimes, that's not too great a price to pay in the name of duty. Minerva Shaw is desperately seeking a doctor when she mistakenly lands on Sebastian's doorstep. Her daughter Ivy has fallen gravely ill with a mysterious illness-the same illness, it seems, that's responsible for taking the lives of many of Ivy's classmates.
Read more A Gaslight Chronicles novellaLondon, 1860Police inspector Sebastian Brown served Queen and country in India before returning to England to investigate supernatural crimes alongside the Order of the Round Table. If his wifeless, childless life feels a little empty sometimes, that's not too great a price to pay in the name of duty.Minerva Shaw is desperately seeking a doctor when she mistakenly lands on Sebastian's doorstep. Her daughter Ivy has fallen gravely ill with a mysterious illness-the same illness, it seems, that's responsible for taking the lives of many of Ivy's classmates.Seb sniffs a case, and taking in Minnie and Ivy seems the only way to protect them while he solves it. But as mother and daughter work their way into his heart and Seb uses every magickal and technological resource he can muster to uncover the source of the deadly plague, it's he who will need protecting-from emotions he'd thought buried long ago.©2014 Cindy Spencer Pape (P)2014 Audible, Inc.Buy Audible VersionBuy eBook Version from Carina Press

Martin Binks has made it big in Hollywood but there’s something missing from his life. When he heads back to his home town to regroup, he finds it in his high school pal, Josie, now a grown woman with curves in all the right places. Josie Weston is thrilled when Binks walks back into her life. Not sharing her feelings for him was the one regret she’s always had. She was too timid to act on her fantasies when they were younger but now…

Running away from heartache is easier than facing it. But when Chellie runs from a bad relationship with a cheating ex, and lands smack-dab in the arms of a hot and sexy stranger who thinks she was born to be his mate, could things get any weirder?  
They sure can…especially when she discovers that she’s a closet nymphomaniac, and he’s a shape shifting explosion of animal magnetism she simply can’t resist…Excerpt:

He rose from the old Navajo rug that had cushioned his bare ass from the rough sandstone floor of the sweat lodge, and stretched the muscles that had grown stiff from his night-long meditation. He had seen the ch’iin again. The demon was closer than he had ever been before. Something must have drawn him out of hiding. The evil one seldom showed his shadow to anyone who could withstand him. He preyed on the weak and frightened. Preyed on innocence.
He had seen trouble coming, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. But it had been the final vision that had caught him totally off guard. Night dark eyes meeting his and thick black hair spread over his bed…
Not likely. He pressed his stiffening dick gently down, trying to ignore its awakened state. A piss might help, but he doubted that this one came from needing to urinate.
The medicine dreams never lied. At least, they had never lied before. It was probably an omen. Not what it appeared. It had been many years since he’d almost had a wet dream, and this was bad timing to start having them now. He flung open the leather flap and drew a lungful of the crisp pre-dawn air, bending to exit the dark, overheated lodge.
He had spent the last two days on the high sandstone plateau in his search for answers. Answers about the strange restlessness that had roiled around inside him for months now. His spirit was usually so calm, he figured he was close to dead. And what answers had the spirits given him to his questions? His voice was rough from lack of use as he laughed aloud. In the swirling mists of steam and sage smoke, they had sent him an image of a naked woman. And what a woman… Maybe old Joe was right. Maybe the restlessness that plagued him had less to do with his weary spirit and more to do with his horny body.
“I ask you for direction and you send me a porno movie?” He shook his head and lifted his arms wide to greet the rising sun. “Are you playing tricks with me now, great one? Have I come to the end of my use to you? Are you telling me that my days of celibacy and dedication to your cause will soon end?” I doubt that but I can always hope.
He closed his eyes and turned to greet the north wind. It cooled his overheated flesh but had little effect on the painful erection his dream had gifted him with. “Even you cannot cool my need? Are you all ganging up on me?”
As he turned to the west and considered the high spires of the wind towers of the old ones, he smiled tightly. “You conspire against me, as well, my friends?”
The moaning of the morning wind through the sandstone formations seemed to mock him as he turned last to the south wind and shook his damp hair back from his perspiration wet face. “Then let it be so. It has been a long and lonely journey. But I seriously doubt the woman in my dream would look twice at one like me.” No woman had ever seen him as a man.
Only as a thing to be afraid of. To run and hide from.
He relieved himself in the latrine he had created by digging out a crevice in the sandstone and filling it with earth and crushed sage. He walked to the battered canteen hanging on the side pole of the lodge and took a deep drink, then poured a cooling trickle over his sweat-streaked face. He rolled up the sides of the lodge and put out the small fire that he used to heat the rocks. Reaching for the medicine pouch that contained his animal totems, he tied it snugly about his throat to avoid losing it in flight…and then he crouched and freed his eagle form.
Copyright 2013 Fran Lee Buy Now

 Cicada Marian, a science teacher on summer vacation, moves into Jon’s house. He’s been dead for a hundred years but he vows to break the curse on himself and win her heart. He seduces her, entices her and is determined to show her who’s boss with some sexy rope tricks—but he intends to earn her love at the same time. 
Candelabra
Tandy travels to Scotland’s Loch Enya castle to attend a BDSM convention she hopes will overcome her control-freak tendencies. When Bryne pulls her into his room of fire, she fears she’s stepped into the lair of a crazy man. But as he mesmerizes her and sears her with his hot passions, she consents to a BDSM session of hot wax play that turns out to be the most intense journey of her life. Entrusting her body and mind to him might heal her, but the elemental fire fairy has an agenda of his own that threatens to consume them both in flames Buy Now

Happy New Year!

I wanted to take a moment to wish everyone a Happy New Year!

I'm sitting with my laptop and I can't believe that today is the first day of 2014. I remember New Year's Day 2013 so vividly.

We've had many ups and downs in 2013. We've had some rough days, one of them being last night, but I woke up this morning feeling a conviction that I haven't felt in ages. A certainty in what I need to do to find a life for myself again, to find happiness.

2013 was a year of change for me, for my family. We made a scary move from the solitude of Northern Minnesota to a town near the Twin Cities. As hard as it was leaving the place that was once a sanctuary, I'm so very glad to have made the move.

I miss the solitude, the wildlife, and most of all the very dear friends we'd made during that seven years, but being closer to doctors, therapists, shopping and the rest of the world has been eye opening for me. I'd kind of slipped into a coma there, in that isolated place.

I survived some pretty rough days, but did it by living in a sort of mindless state of being. It took everything I had to just simply make it through each day, and as each day sank into darkness, so did I.

My sister has been gone three years this last December. It was the marking of an anniversary that was so very painful for all of us. It's been three years that's drifted by at a crawl, and at the same time, seemed to have gone by so quickly it was nearly unbelievable.

I'd spent the previous two anniversaries posting a picture of my sister, mourning her loss, but this year, beneath the scab was volatile emotion. Anger, sadness, rage, betrayal and yes, there was also loss.

Each moment of the last three years have been spent picking up the pieces and trying to find a place where we could all create and carve out a new life. A life that hadn't been planned or foreseen by any of us, but one we've had to live despite that fact.

Dealing with the hand we've had the misfortune of being dealt.

Raising my 13 year old nephew, who has special needs, has been rewarding and extremely difficult.
He 's suffered a great trauma and I've been trying to make up for that. Trying to find him the help he needs, trying to give him support and rules and boundaries. Finding a bigger school, giving him as many opportunities for success as I could provide.

In dealing with these everyday issues, writing has fallen to the wayside. The ability to create nearly completely gone from my repertoire. Not the love for writing but putting myself in the emotional place of being able to lose myself in a story of fiction. In romance.

Growing up, that ability was my lifeline. But lately, it's been all I can do to get through the day, let alone forgetting it all and slipping into a fantasy. That hurts. It's a very bitter pill to swallow, the loss of something you love to do.

So, as I stand on a new day, a new year, I face some heart wrenching choices, though I know deep down, in my heart, our lives will be better for making them.

I've made the difficult decision of leaving Minnesota and returning to Arizona.

What it boils down to is that I just want to go home. I've never felt that way. As a matter of fact, I'd sworn off ever returning to Arizona. Yep, I'd uttered those very words and meant them, at the time.

But things change. The world changes. We change and I've changed.

I don't want to be this person anymore. The person who barely makes it through the day. Who retreats into herself, withdrawls from everything and everyone, just to survive.

What it boils down to is that I've done all I can do alone.

My sister made some incredibly selfish decisions in her life and one of the worst was taking my nephew far away from his father. He never had a chance to know him. Never had the chance to love him. He wasn't raised with friends, family and cousins or siblings and never learned social skills.

We moved to the cities to bring him closer to the real world and in many ways I feel more isolated and alone than I ever did living literally 15 miles from the Canadian border.

So, I woke up today with a conviction in my heart, in my head, feeling as though the decision has been made.

We're going home.

The most difficult thing I'll ever have to do will be leaving my son, his half-sister and cousin in Minnesota. But they're adults. They're in the twenties and have great jobs and are living their own lives. I'll miss him desperately, I'll miss them all, but I know it's time to do this for me.

As a matter of fact, it's long overdue.

With a new year literally upon us, I refuse to live another in a blur.

So, my plan for 2014 is to face my fears. To make the hard decisions and to deal with the pain however I need to, but to live life instead of hiding from it.

2014 Goals.


To write everyday.To return to Arizona for my nephew, for my mother and for myself at the end of July, after our lease expires. Return to family, friends, and hopefully help my nephew meet his father and siblings, to help him find his place in life, in turn, finding mine.Finding my way back to my stories.

Whatever your troubles, your trials, I wish you peace and happiness the coming year.

Thank you.
Taylor

Abandoned Blog

It's been a long time. A long time since I've blogged, a long time since I've written. My writing "career" is showing some serious neglect as of late, as well as this blog being downright sorrowful.

What can I say except that life has gotten in the way, but more than that, I guess I've gotten in the way. I have health issues going on, medication issues, as well as stress related to the care and wellbeing of my nephew.

It's made me question everything. I've kind of been in at a low point personally, and haven't had one extra ounce of energy to do more than open a file and sit and stare.

It'd downright depressing, downright terrifying, actually. It's scary not to have the energy or the gumption to do what you love, to do what you enjoy. Hell, there is no joy.

Writing has always been an escape for me, much as was reading was while going through the ups and downs that made up my life. It seems as though I'm unable to clear my mind enough to allow that escape to occur, however. Instead, writing or anything related to it, has become an overwhelming task that I'm unable to complete. It's a lock I can't open, even though I have the key grasped tightly in my palm.

It's been frustrating as hell and left me feeling extremely overwhelmed with the whole thing. Maybe I should stop writing, stop trying? The truth is, I just can't bring myself to give up on my dreams. I want more than anything to be a writer, to write, to share stories, to bring characters alive, and to share even the most personal and painful aspects of my life, to maybe allow others to fight strength in their own difficulties or similar situations.

Though I can't do any of that if I simply can't get my head into the right place. So, I'm checking in, hanging in there, trying to find some way to back to the words.

Thanks for hanging in there with me,
Taylor

Disappointed in my Kindle Fire

When it happened I was enthralled. I was able to buy myself a Kindle Fire, first gen. I couldn't have been happier and I stopped reading paper books altogether. I have insomnia, more like a sleeping disorder, and I read this baby until I'm able to fall asleep every night. I'm also a book-oholic,so I constantly buying books to keep me well stocked.

Not to mention, an author who is currently trying to format my back list to upload onto Amazon.

Well, after a year and three month, my Kindle Fire finally stopped taking a charge.

It'd always had that charging quirk. I'd always have to jiggle the cord, but being as needy as I was, I couldnt' imagine parting with my Kindle for any amount of time, especially not long enough to send this baby in for any sort of repair. That was my bad. Apparently my second huge mistake. My first, not buying a $50 extended warranty.

My poor Kindle Fire has finally died. I'm heartbroken. Devastated and frankly, a little pissed off.

So, I called Amazon, thinking that since I was such a good customer, not to mention a writer who publishes on their site, that they might help me figure this out.

Nope. They won't replace my out of warranty item. Period.

Okay, I paid 200 bucks for that baby and it only worked correctly for a few months, and only had a fifteen month lifespan. How the hell does that work?

I'm imagining it's most likely a production flaw with the internal charger because the customer service rep knew immediately that it was a dead. A done deal.

Oh, Amazon, you vex me.

So, I downloaded the Kindle app on my iPhone. It works, though it's harder to see, but not as bulky. My iPhone plays music and I can still download my Kindle books, but I really miss have a dedicated reader.

Sure, they'll man up and give me a discount on a "refurbished" unit, but is it refurbished, as in the internal charger has already broken once before? Why the hell would I spend one more penny on something like that?

I'd read somewhere that there's been a dramatic shift in the actual sales of Kindles. IT World~Drop in Kindle Fire sales .

My nephew was lucky. His new school allows their 7th, 8th, and 9th grade kids to use an iPad. Yep, an iPad. It's pretty awesome and I honestly thought I'd NEVER need one and especially wouldn't like the idea of having one.. I have a laptop. I had a Kindle Fire. I saw no need. Now I have an iPhone but lost my Fire, whom Amazon Customer service was frankly dickish about replacing.

iPads are more expensive initially, but would it outlast the Fire, would the company actually CARE that there was a defect in the product? Most companies that feed themselves into a gorge off our business, go over and beyond to keep said customers happy, giddy even.

All I'm saying is that when you drop a few hundred on a device, said device should last more than fifteen months. Or is it just me?

In My Future?

I'm not sure yet, but Amazon, I hope you're picking up the slack and that this lousy customer service attitude isn't a wave of the future. I've always had nothing but rave reviews for your company. You've been innovative and fearless and I've purchased two of your products, one for myself and one for my nephew. Guess what, the internal chargers broke on BOTH of them. I'd love to see the statistical data on that, by the way.

So, how about a little care and consideration for your customer base?

I do know now that whatever I buy, it'll certainly have an extended warranty!

What about you? Do you have a Kindle eReader? Do you have an iPad? If you have a brief second, I'd love to hear about your experience.

Thanks,
Taylor

A Poet, A Writer: Help Him Get Back To The Words

I have this friend. Her name is Barbara Huffert. We've known each other for going on seven years or so now, I suppose. We've never met in person, but we're both writers, and thanks to the Internet, I suppose that's not surprising. People meet on blogs, websites and chats. We happened to meet because we'd both written for Ellora's Cave, and had the luck to having the same editor.Nearly seven years later, she's still my rock.Some days I'm up, some days I'm down, but no matter which it is, Barb's always there for me, and I aspire to do the same for her. She encourages me in both both regular life as well as being most supportive of my continuing effort to write and publish.She's an advocate of my work, and reminds me everyday that as a person, as a woman, as a writer, I have value, especially on the days when all of that is so easily forgotten.Barb is the best friend a person could have, because she provides not only friendship, but never wavers in her support.She's constant.She's sturdy.She strong.She's there on the good days and bad, without having to be asked.That's what the post is about today.Barb's dear friend, Lance Cheuvront is currently the benefactor of that assistance, and I for one am glad to pass the word along.Lance has had a rough year and is currently offline due to a fatal issue with his computer.Again, in today's world of publishing, epublishing, ebooks and Ezines, being without the Internet is a problem, but not having a computer, well that can be almost fatal to your career, especially if you're just trying to get one started.Let's be honest here, it makes the submissions process a nearly impossible one.These days, most if not all companies only accept email submissions, with exception to those dinosaurs out there. Yes, there still are a few of those, but finding them is becoming more and more of a task.So, I posted one of Lance's most recent poems. I just snagged it right off his FB wall.There's been so many amazing poems I could literally spend days searching for his best work, but if you ask me, all you have to do is read one, they all qualify! Take a minute, if you wish. Go to his FB page and read back.You'll see. Barb believes in his words and it only takes reading them to understand why. So donate to the cause if you can? If you do or can't do so at this time, please just pass the word along.Help this poet and writer of fabulous tales find his way back to the words. Like I said, we all have good days. We all have bad ones. Today it's just Lance's turn for a crap sandwich. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe we'll all help him find his way back to the words.Thank you,Taylor    Before the WarAugust 15, 2013 at 6:32pm Do not dismiss my restless tongue,the wings of it delicate, like moths,filled with poetry, lyric, sadness, joyand brutal honesty, hidden in image,secretive rhyme, gossamer metaphor,even blatant black and white, buthidden in the folds of a character’s cloak.~Here at sunset, I walk the battlefield,as if I were Satan, celebratory or Gabrielgrieving at the grotesquery of the slaughter,no bodies lie here, but joys, dreams, tinychildren in the form of hope, scorched gardens,empty of fruit, left behind by passing armies,named after Regrets, titled by What if’s,“what if I had only…”~Quick, instantly like lightning we forgive,our transgressors, unless they wear our skins,our pain perceived like cancer, tumors formedfrom these moments of time when we did nothing,or something that follows us like a stray,demanding a home to grow, devour, destroy,devastate our very fabric, nothing left to keep us warm.~We have forgotten that we are angels,ennobled by birth to carry nothing more than life,such a tiny thing, such a thing of enormity, how we see it, our perception is how we live,tiny, wounded, harried, fearful or gigantic,casting shadows of great words, stirring echoeswith our grace, our love, our mistakes giving character.~Bend to your belly, fall in supplication and drink,from the wild fountain of our bleeding world,taste the lips of those who pass you, feed on sunlightas it warms your skin, reclaim the night from sadnesswith the broad bright moon as your silver shield,take up weapons to reclaim or defend your joy,for make no mistake my child, it is endangered.~Pick flowers from among the corpses of your regret,let it rot, let it fade, let it scar, until it sinks belowinto the ever dark loam of yesterday, then last year,let it go, as it never meant to hurt you, and wewho love you beyond the words of our poemssuffer too to see you in chains, remember your wings,let’s chase our shadows across the green hillsides,like we did before the war.Lance Cheuvront Give To The Cause