Cerise DeLand's Blog, page 35

Did you take home your NAKED #COWBOY yet? Desiree Holt tells you how!

Amy Stark has it all together—except for chronic bad taste in men. She’s firmly in hands-off-all-men mode when a flat tire forces her to accept the help of exactly the type of man she’s sworn off. Arrogant, cocky and condescending.When she runs into him again later that day and then finds out her brother has invited him for dinner, the fire between them has a sizzle of a different kind.At eighteen, Buck Montgomery left home to make his mark on the bull-riding circuit. He may have had wild success in rodeo but his personal life is in the dust, and while he’s ready to start a new life he’s wary to expose his heart. Buck knows he should tell Amy the truth, but every time he opens his mouth, hers is right there with kisses like molten lava.When his past resurfaces at the worst possible time, Buck can only wonder if Amy will love the man he has become…or if the man he was will chase her away. Excerpt:  “What a crock.” Amy Stark kicked her well-worn boot at the rear tire on her truck, which was now flatter than a pancake. “Damn you anyway, Matthew Stark.”If her brother and her best friend weren’t off on their honeymoon, she’d really be mad at them. But she’d been so glad to see them married that she’d readily agreed to attend this cattle auction. She just hadn’t expected her truck to get a flat tire out here in the middle of godforsaken nowhere.There was a jack in the bed of the truck, but at five foot two and one hundred ten pounds she knew she didn’t have the strength to do what was needed to change the tire. She pulled out her cell phone and rechecked the bars. Only one, and barely visible. Of course. It stood to reason she’d break down where there was no reception and damn little traffic. She thought about kicking the tire one more time, but all she’d do was hurt her foot and it wouldn’t solve any problems.Sighing, she checked her watch again. Twelve thirty. The cattle auction would start in half an hour and she still had a twenty-minute drive to get there. And the whole reason for her going was to bid on a bull Matt had specifically wanted and told her how high to go.Damn, damn, damn.When she heard the rumble of a truck coming down the road, she thought she was having auditory hallucinations for a moment. But then, sure enough, a hulking black pickup came around the curve not half a mile away, driving as if it owned the highway. Hoping it wasn’t a sex pervert or a murderer driving, Amy waved her hands in the traditional motion for the driver to stop.The pickup slowed, came to a stop about six feet from her and the driver’s door opened. And Amy nearly swallowed her tongue when she saw what climbed down to the road. At least six feet of honking sexy man, his tight butt clearly outlined in his jeans, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt, traditional Stetson clapped on his head. He turned and walked toward her with the typical loose-hipped stride of the seasoned cowboy. His face was tanned, accented by dark brows and the blackest eyes she’d ever seen. His lips were curved in a smile that could have melted her panties if she let it.He surveyed her truck with its flat tire. “Looks like you’ve got a problem here. That’s some big truck for a woman your size to handle.”Amy felt her temper spiking. A woman her size? Big truck? She jammed her fists onto her hips and glared at him. “I’ll have you know I drive this truck all the time. I just…just…had an unexpected setback here.”The man laughed, a rich, deep sound. “I’d say so. Where you heading?”She waved down the highway. “There’s a cattle auction not far from here. I was supposed to be there a while ago.”“Oh? Taking something to your boss?”To her boss? Holy shit. Who was this cretin? A relic from another century? She ground her teeth, hard, but decided arguing with him wouldn’t get her anywhere. If he’d just help her get the damn tire changed, she’d be on her way. Probably never see him again. Which under other circumstances might not be too bad. But right now she was having too much trouble controlling her temper to worry about other physical reactions.“I just need to get there.” She found a pleading smile from someplace and pasted it on her face. “Is there a chance that you could help me? Do you have the time?”“For someone as pretty as you, I think I can make the time. Where’s the jack?”As pretty as her? Was this guy not the biggest chauvinist in the world? She was waiting for him to call her little lady.She chuffed out a breath. “In the bed. I’ll open it for you.”Still keeping herself under control, Amy unlocked the truck bed and raised the cover lowering the tailgate.“I can take it from here,” he told her and handed her is Stetson. Black, like his truck and his clothes.Amy was sure her back teeth would be ground to dust by the time she got her tire changed, but she couldn’t afford to annoy him. She just stood to the side, holding his hat like some hat rack or bimbo, while he expertly loosened the lug nuts and pulled off the flat. She’d never seen her savior before, so she glanced at the door of his truck to see if it had a ranch logo on it, but the panel was bare. Of course that meant nothing. She’d didn’t have Stark Ranch on hers either. It was too new.At last the tire was changed and the man tossed the flat into the truck bed. He pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket, wiped his forehead and his hands and retrieved his hat. He moved with a relaxed, effortless ease, yet there seemed to be a contradictory fine line of tension running through his body. As if he had to be wary at all times. What on earth was that all about?“Thank you.” She held out her hand to him. “I really appreciate this.”His hand nearly swallowed hers, the warmth of it seeping into her system. With great determination, she ignored the tingles that shot up her arm and spread throughout her body.I’ve got to get out more.“My pleasure.” He winked at her. “Hope you get to your boss in time.” He started to walk away.“I’ll be sure to tell him what a help you were.” She couldn’t keep the edge of sarcasm out of her voice.
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Want a RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE? Cerise DeLand gives you one! Her newest #Regency!

RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE, Regency Romp #2Amazon: http://amzn.to/1tGU26K ARe  https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-rendezvouswithaduke-1628539-160.html NOOK  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rendezvous-with-a-duke-cerise-deland/1120376422?ean=2940150598065 KOBO  Coming within days!iTunes   Coming soon!     Anna Fournier never intended to  fall in love. Not with any man. Especially not a duke.
     But Hugh Lattimer persists in courting her despite the scandal that surrounds her—and the innuendo that could ruin him.
     Can she escape her past and embrace a future as Hugh's duchess?
     Or will the man who murdered her father ruin her future once and for all?

     RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE is #2 in my REGENCY ROMP series, starring a lovely young composer who sells her music so that she can escape her dreadful life with a vengeful aunt and cousin.
    This series stars a full cast of delicious, devilish noblemen who were once or who still are agents for the Crown.
     RENDEZVOUS's hero is Hugh Lattimer, once a soldier and Wellington's aide, later a diplomat at the Congress of Vienna. Hugh knows secrets few  even dare to whisper...and he knows how ruthless his own comrades and his former foes can be.

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1hWjg79ARe:NOOK:  KOBO:       But when he learns that the woman he loves is a victim of one of his former colleagues, Hugh vows to cut down anyone who would shame her or hurt her.
      Hugh has a giant task before him from the first day he meets lovely, impoverished Anna in a piano shop. She seems to be a nonentity. No one knows her well, not even the man who manages her musical commissions for her. Hugh goes to Justin Belmont and his wife Kitty, a society maven, to ask for help in discovering who the charming composer might be. (Justin and Kitty's story is LADY VARNEY'S RISQUE BUSINESS.)
      Hugh calls upon his other friends, too, to help him. Victor Cameron, the Marquess of Cameron, and Dexter Elgin, Viscount Elgin use their contacts to learn just who Anna Fournier might be.
       I hope you will join me for RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE...and stay tuned for the next in the series, MASQUERADE WITH A MARQUESS!


Find Cerise: Cerise's website: http://cerisedeland.com Cerise's Blog: http://cerisedeland.blogspot.com Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cerise.deland  Follow me on Twitter: @cerisedeland Goodreads: Cerise DeLand
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/frenchcherryred  

3 men or 2? Menage or a quatre? What's your pleasure? HIS DELECTABLE COOK, HAT TRICK, HER THREE-WAY MERGER

HIS DELECTABLE COOK: Amazon ARe NOOK KOBO iTunesMy late Regency-early Victorian, HIS DELECTABLE COOK has been a hit for months now! With 3 men for one woman, I understand why! (This erotic romance has a mystery sub-plot like my other Regencies, but is unlike my REGENCY ROMPS (LADY VARNEY'S RISQUE BUSINESS and RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE) which are more historical romance, period.            The story stars a young woman who answers an advert for a position as cook to the new earl.            Does she know he is such a rogue?            Does she anticipate that he likes to share his women with his staff and his younger brothers?            Might our little cook relish the very idea?
Need a nibble?Of course you do!Copyright, Cerise DeLand 2013. All rights reserved.
     "Bess Deveraux stood before her new employer, prim as a blushing bride, which she most definitely was not, and proud as the virago she wished to become. And all because the man she faced was precisely the type of master she had yearned for since she first discovered the joys her body could give her six long years ago. He embodied all the essential qualities she desired in a lord and master: He was handsome, self-possessed, filthy rich and scandal-ridden. At the moment, he was also astonished at her appearance before him. The tick in his left cheek told that tale.     “Mrs O’Brien assures me you are qualified for my household.” Lord Taryn Wentworth sat, loose-boned, maddeningly louche, in a large leather chair examining her from across his sun-dappled library.Betty flushed with pride at her accomplishment to jump the gauntlet of the acerbic housekeeper and appear before him as the woman’s choice for the cook’s position. The servant had riddled her with questions for hours about her previous experience and her employers.   “She informs me you are experienced with supper parties and balls.” One long well-muscled leg across the other, Wentworth pursed his full lips together as his searing sapphire eyes assessed her chin, her throat and her bosom in the cook’s shapeless white attire.   At his gravelly base voice, Betty refrained from shifting on her feet as her nipples peaked high and hard against the rough cotton of her new uniform. She was so right not to have donned a corset this morning. Nor worn any pantalets. After all, she had taken this position to be free of all social restraints.   “Betty!” Mrs. O’Brien chastised her to respond to the man who had recently inherited this Mayfair house, an older pile in Dorset, an earldom and twenty thousand a year income. “Do answer his lordship.”   Betty locked eyes with him, the rogue. “I was not aware it was a question.”   “Careful, girl,” O’Brien growled.   Betty caught his lordship fighting a smile. “Yes, of course. Pardon me, Went— “ No, not so familiar, Bess!“Sorry, my lord. I am very accomplished at preparing party menus. Game, beef, puddings.”   “Red snapper?”   Betty suppressed a chuckle at his lewd reference. How like the scoundrel to try to make her laugh. “I have it on good authority that my fish is superbly prepared. Always in a savoury sauce.”   He rubbed his lower lip with the tip of one index finger. “How are your sweet things?”   When properly prepared? “They melt in your mouth.”   “Tempting,” he conceded with a tour of her body from generous breasts to tiny waist and the length of her legs. She had heard his eyes could scald and titillate. Her cunny swelled with the proof. “And what of your cakes? Do you work with chocolate?”   “I can bake one for you, my lord.”   “Frosted?”    Irritable and commanding this morning, are we, my lord Wentworth? Hmm. “Of course. Marzipan. Vanilla glaze. Whatever you—“   “What do you do with strawberries? Peaches?”   The devil. Her nipples pebbled like strawberries. Eager to have those luscious lips of his sucking them. And her peaches? She squeezed her pussy walls together. Yes. Her peaches were plump and ready to be bitten into. “Such delicacies, I offer ripe and sugared with—”   “Ices?” he cut her off with a narrowing of his sparkling eyes and a shift in his chair.   Uncomfortable, my lord?  This is your fault, you realize. You did ask. “Yes. Sculptured, my lord. Swans, birds and—“   “I see,” he said though what he was looking at was her nipples peaking against the muslin uniform.    “Where did you learn to carve ice?”   “In the house where I grew up, my dearest friend was the cook.”   His cool façade fell from his face at hearing this tidbit. “Was your friend, the sculptress, also expert with her dishes?”   “A fine chef, my lord. My father became enchanted with her finesse and claimed no one could make a soufflé that compared. I learned much from her.”   “Such as?”   Ah. You taunt me at your own risk, Wentworth. “She declared if one fed a man what he loved, he would return, hungry forevermore.”   “Astute of her.” He, over the shock of gazing at her heart-shaped face and limpid eyes, grew more relaxed. Even jovial.   “True, my lord.” Betty rocked back on her heels, bolder now that she had him in conversation. “She was most particular instructing me on how to prepare any organ from a large animal, most especially his brain.”   He arched a brow at her. “For example, what?”   “How to tenderize a big piece of meat.” She used her hands illustrating her passion to pull and draw on one specific part of a male animal.   O’Brien cleared her throat.   Betty clasped her hands behind her back, rising on her toes and thrusting out her heavy breasts. “I roast a succulent duck, as well. Do you like duck, my lord?”   “I appreciate all things succulent, Betty.” He flashed a smile at her, a rueful twitch of that libertine’s mouth. One Bess had to trace and taste very soon. “Leave us, Mrs. O’Brien.”   “My lord, I depart here in the morning for the house in Dorset as you requested,” the housekeeper bit off her words, miffed at her dismissal from this interview, “but I have not yet discussed the menu with her for tomorrow evening and with a new butler and footman—“    “I will tell her what to serve.” Wentworth waved the woman toward the door, though his gaze locked on Betty’s. “She will inform you after I am done with her. You may go to your duties, Mrs. O’Brien.”  * * * * * And if you love menages and a quatre erotic romances, then here are my others!

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Love #history? Mixed with #romance? Based on real events? King John was an evil dude!

#3 in my SWORDS OF PASSION series
BUY LINK: 
Defying his king, Geoffrey St. Claire invades a dungeon to save the woman he loves from cruel death. This time, he vows, he will save her and make her love him—or die trying.Countess Katherine Harleigh knew her refusal to become King John’s lover courted his punishment. But she never thought he’d try to starve her. Cast into a dungeon—widowed, alone and disgraced—Kat fears no one can save her. Not even the one knight who always promised to love and protect her.Geoffrey St. Claire serves his Sire as loyally as a sane man can. But when John imprisons the one woman Geoff has always adored, he risks his lands and his life to ride to her rescue. Yet, he knows she will never welcome his aid. She hates him too much for deserting her years ago. But he will not leave her this time.Now, Geoff plans to save her from death and despair, nurse her back to health and then persuade her to love him as wholly as she once did. Seduction in her bath, her bed, her chamber is his only method and he prays he can restore her love for him before John appears with an army to take her from him once more…this time, forever. Order: Kindle • Total-E-Bound • All Romance Ebooks
Need a nibble of my cherry? Of course you do! Copyright 2013, Cerise DeLand. Excerpt, All rights reserved.          Grey walls of stone surrounded her. Ah—she fought tears—another dungeon. Yet…it was not. This one seemed sweeter. In truth, light streamed from a small window in the far wall. Candles glowed upon sconces. Flashes of warmth and hope radiated through her.She licked her cracked lips, curiosity besting her disappointment and outrage. In tiny increments, she opened her eyes wider and caught her breath at the sight of a man’s corded arms, two stalwart hairy legs and huge feet pressed along the planes of her own and braced at the curve of the wooden tub in which they sat.No man bathed a woman like this.Not husband. Surely, not abductor.She bent forward, the effort costing her heartbeats of fear.Strong hands cupped her shoulders, stroked her arms and grasped her wrists. Firm lips pressed to her nape. “You have no need to fly from me, ma cherie. You are safe. I merely wish to help you wash away the remnants of your imprisonment.”Geoffrey.She had not conjured his voice, had not hallucinated that he had saved her. Her heart picked up a fierce tattoo. Her panic sapped her. She fell back against him, drained of tension and yet consumed by doubts. She had no strength to fight him, had no wish to try. His presence, his embrace was too enchanting, too welcome to her feeble mind and body. And he felt too marvellous, too solid and secure, for her to repel him.She examined his large hands upon her, his muscular arms enfolding her. Huge in his youth, he was now brawny as a warhorse. She had never been a match for his height or power. Now? She had not the strength to lift a pin, let alone fight him. Indomitable, he was at this moment the only sturdy comfort in her world. Her weak body could not run. She let him embrace her, awed by his tenderness as he hugged her backwards more firmly into his care. Trembling with joy at his succour, she wanted to cry. In relief or surrender, she could not decide.With one shaking hand, she covered her mouth to stop the tremors.“I know not what you can recollect of your imprisonment and rescue. I tell you each day. Now, in this tub today, you seem more aware. Shall I repeat my litany?”She nodded, her muscles tight with expectation of what she’d hear, what she’d feel in his arms.“I came three nights ago to the hellhole where those nuns had thrust you. I arrived with a retinue of my men and we escaped with you across the channel to Chepstow. Here, we are with friends who have welcomed us into their gates and drawn the bridge.”Friends. Chepstow. Her thoughts dissolved and formed anew. She had noble friends at Chepstow. So did Geoffrey. He had been born here. She turned her head to one side, as much a move of endearment and thanks as it was a caress of her cheek against the wall of his chest.She heard him sigh, revelled in the way he squeezed her to acknowledge her sign of gratitude. He dropped a kiss to her wet scalp. “I have been a pest, I know, to make you sip and drink. But it was the only way to save you, slowly and in small measures.”“Starved,” she said, the word more sob than statement.He cupped her jaw, his fingers stroking her cheek. “I know, my dearest. Word has it the nuns earned a fee. They will all rot in hell. But they failed and you recover. We shall soon hear what earthly reward they earn for that.”“The King?” she managed, horrified at the ghostly sound of her own voice.He snorted, his disdain suffusing his torso as once more he cuddled her nearer to him. “John? You must not think of him. Only of you.”She summoned every ounce of strength and twisted her face up to him. With her eyes wide open, she gazed upon him. So close, so alive, so dear, so hated and forbidden to her, Geoffrey St Claire appeared hazy and ethereal, a phantom of her past. Blinking, she examined him more closely. She had last seen him in London more than a year ago, but here in his arms, naked and vulnerable, ill and needy, she saw what he had been and what he had become. His auburn hair was still curly and bright, but along his temples, threads of grey appeared. His sultry eyes were still verdant green, large and sweet, but lines crinkled the corners. His cheeks were ruddy, sharp and stern, kissed by the wind and cold. His jaw was rigid, his teeth clamped tight as she surveyed him. He was Geoffrey, her Geoffrey, serving kings, fighting their wars and today, saving her.As much Norman as Saxon, Geoffrey sprang from a line of cousins loyal to the Conqueror. The St Claires had intermarried at the first William’s orders, combining their blood with Saxon princesses and bringing forth men known for their extraordinary height and heft and loyalty to the English kings. Aye, this is Geoffrey.Marvelling at her deliverance and that it should be by him, she reached up to curve her palm against his cheek.He smiled at her as she held him, then pressed a kiss into her palm. “I am real, and you are alive and improving in health, I see, by the minute.”Swallowing hard, she fought tears. Pride would not let her show him such weakness. He was her saviour, but to what end? He was at core, by lineage and temperament, John’s man. Despite occasional breaks with their Sovereign and frequent stays in the dungeons of the White Tower, Geoffrey had pledged his fealty to John Plantagenet. How could she believe Geoffrey’s words that she was safe? And how long did she have before he changed his mind and ransomed her to his ruler?She leaned away. Tried to sit. To stand.He pulled her back. “Kat, to test your strength is not wise. Nor even necessary.”She elbowed him. To no avail.Grasping her wrists, he bound her arms across her bare chest and clutched her to him. His words blew hot against her ear. “Stop this! We have no idea how strong your bones are. You are not whole, not yet! Do not fight me!”She writhed.But he clamped her to him. “You have no need to run from me. Do you not see that I have condemned myself in John’s eyes by abducting you?”“Or you could ransom me.”“Bah! If you fear I took you only to offer you up to him, I ask you, what folly would that be? John would not pay me for such a service.”She was too weak, too weary to argue.“I am not your enemy, Kat, nor ever was.”Fatigued beyond words, she shook her head to object. “I know you think otherwise. Let me prove my devotion. We’ll start with the fact that I have you here with me safe, and soon you will be wholly returned to health. For me, with me, you will eat and drink and indulge in this water. I will talk with you. Tell you tales of my life without you. And I will wash you and savour you, here, naked in my arms the way you should have been from the age of sixteen, when three men ripped us apart. And now, two of them are dead. The last, my King, is now my eternal enemy for what he has done to you.”He ran his fingers along her jaw and tipped her head to give him access to the tender flesh behind her ear. “You are mine.”“Never,” she whispered.“In spirit, you always were. You cannot run from me. And have no need to go. For where you are, there I am also. You are mine, Katherine.”He bound her to him, one arm around her waist, tucked tightly beneath her breasts. With his other hand, open and warm, he lifted her jaw and encircled her throat. “You live because of me. I yearn to make you live for me. And I will.”


#1
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[image error] #2

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         READ all three in the SWORDS OF PASSION series!





















Find Cerise: My website: http://cerisedeland.com My Blog: http://cerisedeland.blogspot.com Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cerisedeland...Follow me on Twitter: @cerisedeland Goodreads: Cerise DeLandPinterest: www.pinterest.com/frenchcherryred             

Real #Regency #dudes who were Great Lovers! Know any? Cerise DeLand has 'em!

A quick lesson in Regency lovers today!
Yes, I have 3 men for you.
Who are they?
Take a look, who do you think these guys are?
#1They were famous, infamous and loved women. Lots of them. Yes, they had wives. No, they did not always either love or honor them.
Who are they?
#1 was an aristocrat. We note all that icing on his jacket.
I will give you a few hints. He married a very popular woman. This was his first wife and when she died in childbirth in 1818 many in her country were bereft. Her uncles hastened to marry. Her accoucher (doctor in attendance) was so distraught at her death and that of the baby that he committed suicide.
And what of her husband?
It is said he truly loved his wife. She was in fact. His first. He retired to his own country in grief.
Thought to be extremely handsome, he had no trouble finding comfort in the arms of a few paramours.
But then he married again. This time he wed for another alliance and the marriage was said to be very happy.



#2





#2 also displays icing and a killer hat. Who was his haberdasher?
No matter. The lady who loved him was not interested in his...um...hat.

This gentleman was never rich nor titled, but he was gloriously famous.  Yes, that's how he acquired all this icing.

The woman who loved him—and who carried on shamelessly in public with him—was from the servant class. With her beauty and acquired manners and some charm, she attracted this man even though she was already married. And so was he.

He died long before she did.
He left her nothing but memories.
And she died a pauper.


#3#3 I'm certain you will know. He is so famous. Not only did he serve his country in war, but also as prime minister in peace. He was a second son, making his name in the military. And he had a wife whom he hardly ever saw. All that war, you realize, keeps a man terribly occupied.

He did have quite a few lovers. Few proclaimed their liaison in public. All that was fine by him because he was, you see, a modest man. Note he wears little icing. He need not, he is so well-known to his contemporaries.

His love life was a mixed bag. When young he wanted to marry a woman whose family would not permit the match. He was, they said, too unimportant. Only after he made a name for himself in India did they consent.  Happiness did not last with them and he went on to other lovers.

One mistress he loved more than any other was alcohol. It is said that outside one men's club they had to erect a bar so that when he left at night he would be able to hold on, stand up straight and thereby, keep his dignity.

And the women who loved them?
Here they are. What do you think?
#1 Princess Charlotte of United Kingdom,
Princess Royale, daughter of George IV
Emma Hamilton, who posed often this time with few clothes!
#2 Emma Hamilton
Early painting by Romney Duchess of Wellington

Tea and Temptation with 4 Regency authors, Sept. 25 TONS of fun and SWAG! LINK here!

Where? https://www.facebook.com/events/46640...
LIKE us now on our FB page!
Put it in your calendar!
Come September 25 from 12 p.m. EST/9 a.m. PST when 3 of my buddies join me as we serve TEA AND TEMPTATION and loads of fun and prizes!
When Sabrina York, Delilah Marvelle, Dominque Eastwick and I celebrate rakes, rogues and spitfire women on the ton, you'll want to be there for the digital book prizes, a tiara, a gorgeous mask and a wine bag...plus more more more!
Yes, we are celebrating:

the release of my new Regency, RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKEplus Delilah's NIGHT OF PLEASUREDominque's THE EARL AND HIS VIRGIN COUNTESSand Sabrina's DARK FANCY! Come for virtual tea and crumpets (in the form of Crush-it SWAG) September 25 NOON EST/9 PST on Facebook for a party with Regency authors, Delilah Marvelle, Dominique Eastwick, Sabrina York and me, Cerise DeLand!
We’ll talk about why we love to write Regency romances, why you love to read them (LOL!) and then we will shower you with prizes for showing up and playing along with us!
What prizes do we have? One lucky person wins one of these:Sabrina brings one of her tiaras! (Wow! Look at those pix! I covet one! My old one is tarnished.) Dominque has created a FAB.U.LOUS mask! (I would look great in that. At my next ball, natch.)Delilah gives us a pair of historical dice, c. 15th century. (Yep. They are doing the 69, gurl.)And me? I’m gonna give you all the goods for a wine party, alone, with someone else, in your bathtub. You name it. But no wine. (Against state regs to ship that. But you can still party!)
Each of us celebrates the release of one of our Regency novels. Dominique soon debuts THE EARL AND HIS VIRGIN COUNTESS. Delilah talks about A NIGHT OF PLEASURE. Sabrina has a few stories to tell you about DARK FANCY.
And I debut RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE.  This full length Regency stars a Cinderella and a prince of a guy, Hugh Lattimer, Duke of Kendal.Ready for the blurb? Anna Fournier never intended to fall in love. Not with any man. Especially not a duke. But Hugh Lattimer persists in courting her despite the scandal that surrounds her—and the innuendo that could ruin him.     Can she escape her past and embrace a future as Hugh's duchess? Or will the man who murdered her father ruin her future once and for all?Ready for that nibble of Cerise’s new cherry?Of course!Here is Hugh Lattimer, Duke of Kendal as he meets Anna for the first time.Copyright 2014, Cerise DeLand. All rights reserved.Hugh Lattimer closed the door of the piano shop, sighing in relief at the warmth. He’d spent the last five years freezing his bits to nubbins in every damn parlor and palace from Vienna to Paris to London and he was sick of the deprivation. Nearly three decades of war on the Continent had leveled more than the forests. It had destroyed men’s daily lives and reduced them to rats huddled together in the rubble of their existences. He had seen it firsthand on the torn battlefields, in the shambles of the towns—and in the hearts of men, women and children high-born and low.He unbuttoned his greatcoat and looked around for the proprietor.In the far room, he heard murmurs of a conversation and then spied the owner of the establishment. “Ah, there you are. Guten morgen. Good morning, Herr Breyer. How are you this cold day?” “Your Grace.” The pudgy shopkeeper beamed at him and inclined his head in greeting. “I am well. And you, sir?”“Quite well.” In the far room, someone at the keys filled the air with a melody new and refreshing. “I am happy to see you again. May I take your coat? Have my frau make you tea?”“Nein, Herr Breyer. Danke shon. I will not stay long. But came to make my decision.” Here twice last week to examine the pianofortes, he had been torn between one of Viennese manufacture and another completed in Munich. The Viennese had been hand tooled by a man whom Hugh had come to know socially when he had been posted to the Austrian capital after Napoleon’s surrender. The Munich piano though interested him for its larger keyboard. The tune emanating from the far room had him pausing to listen. “Who is that at the keys?”“A young lady has come to buy sheet music for her cousin. The song she plays is—““Pleyel?” Hugh named the popular composer and went quite still, struck by the facile ability of the pianist in the far room. The song she played was airy, ethereal, yet of quick tempo and complex.“Ja, Your Grace.”The piece demanded someone who could be bold and attack the keys with alacrity, yet caress them when the mood changed. Hugh had not heard anyone play so well since he was stationed in Stuttgart and the Austrian composer Hummel had graced a consulate meeting with his newest composition. “Astonishing. She is quite accomplished.”“She sight reads very well.” Breyer nodded, pleasure on his face. “The piece is new to her just now. And I must tell you that she plays the Stein pianoforte from Vienna, Your Grace.”Hugh lifted his chin, listening to her with concentration. “Does she? How wonderful.”The German rocked on the balls of his feet, clasping his hands before him, closing his eyes in contentment.Hugh drifted toward the inner room. He moved quietly, drawn as he was by the melody that spoke of eloquent delight, a pastoral scene, perhaps, or a meeting of lovers. The woman at the piano was absorbed in her effort. Eyes upon the sheets, leaning forward now and then to ensure she read the notes correctly, she swayed in a tempo that spoke of her devotion to conquer the song. Absorbed in her challenge, she did not notice him. Her bonnet, a brown leghorn of straw, capped her dark red curls, and the brim cut her side view. Unseen, Hugh could admire her at leisure. He reveled in her rapture as she opened her mouth on execution of one passage or wrinkled her brow at another. She ran her hands along the keys, strident or delicate, as the notes required. She cast up the lieder as it’s composer would have admired—with flair and panache. And at the end, she widened her eyes, and sat back on the stool, hands to her lap, sighing in satisfaction at her own accomplishment.And Hugh applauded.She startled, turned and snared him in her amber gaze.That striking color, he had not expected. Hazel would have been his first assumption because it would complement the river of rich auburn that was her hair. Grey, even, to match the faint tones of pink on her cheeks or the blush on her lips. But the tawny was riveting.“Sir?” She cast glances from him to Breyer.The proprietor scurried forward, clapping himself. “Wunderbar, wunderbar.Permit me to introduce you.” Hugh strode forward himself, ignoring the demands of etiquette. “Allow me to say how marvelous that was.” How gorgeous you are. How accomplished.“Oh, I—I thank you, sir.” She managed to get to her feet, pushing back the stool and clasping her hands together. “I dabble—““On the contrary, you are a musician of talent.”“She composes,” Herr Breyer said with as much pride as if she were his prodigy.“Do you? How enchanting.” He stood over her now. She was taller than most women, the top of that terrifying hat reaching his chin. She was lovelier than most, too, her complexion flawless ivory and brightened by the warmth of the shop’s fire. Or was she flustered by his surreptitious observation of her?Whatever the cause, he wanted her at ease.“Forgive me for startling you.” He took her hand and stunned as she was, she let him. “I do not usually shock women.”Those compelling eyes of hers melted to mellow tones, even as she sought to retrieve her hand from his. “That is good to know, sir.”Hugh kept her hand in his. “I had told Herr Breyer long ago I wished to hear someone play this instrument who had the ability to draw out its full potential. I did not expect my wish to be fulfilled by accident nor to see such a lovely woman do me the honor.”“Oh, sir, thank you. You are too kind.” She blushed, her cheeks turning a delicate rose.The porcelain perfection of her skin suffused with a fair tint that inspired him to imagine her breasts budding, her body bare to him. He smiled at her, hopefully covering his magnetic attraction to her with some politesse. Certainly, her talent and her beauty belied her diminished means. She was a study in dramatic contrasts. And soldier, spy, peer of the realm that he was, he was rarely fascinated by a person. Hardly ever by a woman.“I have heard many play,” he told her, “but few with such verve.” Or beauty. “And Herr Breyer tells me you have not seen the composition before you sat down here to play.”“That’s true,” she admitted with a modesty that pleased him. Humility was not a quality many young women cultivated, though God knew, most should. She attempted again to pull back her hand.Reluctantly, he let her go. “You must have had a good teacher.”“I did, sir.” She clasped her hands together, her expression only briefly showing relief at her escape. “My mother was accomplished.”“She must be very proud of you.” To play so well is such a rare quality among those in society. And most young women use it as a lure to secure a fine match. “I would be, were you my daughter.”She looked him over so intricately that he was certain she meant to buy him and serve him on a platter for supper. “Sir, you are not old enough to have a daughter.”“Old enough,” he corrected her with a grin. “But not capable.”She blinked, shocked at his risqué inference.He shook his head, grimacing but apologetic. “I am not married, you see.”“Ah.” She inhaled, joining in on the joke. “I am certain that is a challenge to every young lady in London.”He sent her a look of pain.She laughed shortly, her mirth a vibrant match to the contralto of her speaking voice. Then she turned her attention on Breyer. “I must go, sir. I will buy this lieder and any two others you suggest.”The shopkeeper took a step toward her, while Hugh warned himself not to stare at her. Not to scare her off. “Will you play them before you buy them?”“Oh, no, thank you.” Her gaze flittered from Breyer to him. He had flustered her.Good. The feeling is mutual.Breyer advanced toward her. “But your cousin needs a simple song.”“She does.” She feigned a smile at the little German, but she returned to focus on Hugh—and her golden gaze lingered there in his. “But I trust your judgment, Herr Breyer.”“Please,” Hugh pleaded, “do stay. It’s rarely that one can hear another play and enjoy it.”Her face lit with a sudden glee that transformed her into a glittering beauty. “I not only agree with you, sir, I have suffered myself.”“Have you?” He took her hand once more and she allowed him the pleasure of holding her in his care. Why have I never suffered with you? Why have I never seen you in the same salon? “Pity.”“Yes,” she said on a breathless whisper that fell over his skin and seeped inside him like good Scots whisky. Her gaze locked on his until she roused herself and yanked away. But she put a hand to the piano, as if to steady herself. “I must go.”No. She firmed her mouth. “Herr Breyer, if you please, I will buy my sheet music and leave.”“But—but your aunt and cousin await you, do they?” Breyer asked hope in his tone.Was the German stalling her? Hugh examined the man. Of course, he was. Perceptive of him to detect my interest.Hugh had to learn her name. Where she—“No. I am out today on my own. But they will expect me shortly,” she told him as he disappeared into the back storage room. “You know how they are.”“Ja, Ich weiss.”But I don’t. “May I escort you to the tea shop across the street? It is very cold outside and—““Thank you, sir, but no.” She strode toward the entrance to Breyer’s back room and called to him. “How much will the music cost, sir?”Hugh put his hand on her wrist. She was the most extraordinary creature he had met in a long time. The endless parade of women who strolled past him, whether by chance or by his mother’s plan, bored him to a raving madness. They had neither wit nor voice other than what their mamas had inculcated. The alternative, a paid companion, was not to his taste either. He’d sampled a few of those abroad and the affection endured for a fortnight or so, then turned shallow. And while he was interested in a quick relief to his manly urges now and then, the prospect of lying down in a bed with a woman he didn’t care for while standing up, did not appeal.“Permit me to offer my carriage and to escort you home.”Her attention drifted from his hand to his eyes. Her own gaze swam in his, and he longed to place his lips there upon her lovely lids, to allow her long red lashes to tickle his lips, to allow her perfect skin to rest beneath his mouth.“Thank you,” she murmured, that deep voice of hers brushing his senses. “I mustn’t.”“Why not?” He heard himself. His voice was a plea, a prayer.Beneath his fingertips, she suffered a frisson. Worse, she looked desperate. “I should not take up with a gentleman.”He had never frightened a woman before. Chastened, he tried to soothe her with a lopsided grin. “I doubt you take up with men who are less than that.”She stiffened. “I take up with none at all.”
RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE, Regency Romp #2Amazon: http://amzn.to/1tGU26K ARe  https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-rendezvouswithaduke-1628539-160.html NOOK  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rendezvous-with-a-duke-cerise-deland/1120376422?ean=2940150598065 KOBO  Coming within days!iTunes   Coming soon!
LADY VARNEY’S RISQUE BUSINESS, Regency Romp #1 Amazon ARe : NOOK:   KOBO:  
Find Cerise: Cerise's website: http://cerisedeland.com Cerise's Blog: http://cerisedeland.blogspot.com Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cerisedeland...Follow me on Twitter: @cerisedeland Goodreads: Cerise DeLandPinterest: www.pinterest.com/frenchcherryred

Cerise DeLand's #Regency #Romp #2 RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE! Out! Need a nibble of my new cherry?

 
Regency Romp #2
RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE, Regency Romp #2Amazon: http://amzn.to/1tGU26K ARe  https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-rendezvouswithaduke-1628539-160.html NOOK  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rendezvous-with-a-duke-cerise-deland/1120376422?ean=2940150598065 KOBO  Coming within days!
iTunes   Coming soon! Nibble on my newest cherry! RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE!  The second in my Regency Romp series, this one has a touch of suspense.
     If you've read the first in the series, LADY VARNEY'S RISQUE BUSINESS, then you already know Justin and Kitty Belmont. Kitty, a baroness in her own right, has married Viscount Belmont, the love of her life. She once operated a match-making service for the nobs solely to pay off her deceased first husband's gambling debts. Now in RENDEZVOUS, she assist Hugh Lattimer, Duke of Kendal, in finding a lovely young woman whom he met in a piano shop. She has fallen on hard times, as indicated by her threadbare clothing. But she is industrious, composing beautiful compositions and selling them to those noblemen who appreciate fine music.
     Here they meet for the first time.
Copyright 2014, Cerise DeLand/WJ Power. All rights reserved.
Hugh Lattimer closed the door of the piano shop, sighing in relief at the warmth. He’d spent the last five years freezing his bits to nubbins in every damn parlor and palace from Vienna to Paris to London and he was sick of the deprivation. Nearly three decades of war on the Continent had leveled more than the forests. It had destroyed men’s daily lives and reduced them to rats huddled together in the rubble of their existences. He had seen it firsthand on the torn battlefields, in the shambles of the towns—and in the hearts of men, women and children high-born and low.He unbuttoned his greatcoat and looked around for the proprietor.In the far room, he heard murmurs of a conversation and then spied the owner of the establishment. “Ah, there you are. Guten morgen. Good morning, Herr Breyer. How are you this cold day?” “Your Grace.” The pudgy shopkeeper beamed at him and inclined his head in greeting. “I am well. And you, sir?”“Quite well.” In the far room, someone at the keys filled the air with a melody new and refreshing. “I am happy to see you again. May I take your coat? Have my frau make you tea?”“Nein, Herr Breyer. Danke shon. I will not stay long. But came to make my decision.” Here twice last week to examine the pianofortes, he had been torn between one of Viennese manufacture and another completed in Munich. The Viennese had been hand tooled by a man whom Hugh had come to know socially when he had been posted to the Austrian capital after Napoleon’s surrender. The Munich piano though interested him for its larger keyboard. The tune emanating from the far room had him pausing to listen. “Who is that at the keys?”“A young lady has come to buy sheet music for her cousin. The song she plays is—““Pleyel?” Hugh named the popular composer and went quite still, struck by the facile ability of the pianist in the far room. The song she played was airy, ethereal, yet of quick tempo and complex.“Ja, Your Grace.”The piece demanded someone who could be bold and attack the keys with alacrity, yet caress them when the mood changed. Hugh had not heard anyone play so well since he was stationed in Stuttgart and the Austrian composer Hummel had graced a consulate meeting with his newest composition. “Astonishing. She is quite accomplished.”“She sight reads very well.” Breyer nodded, pleasure on his face. “The piece is new to her just now. And I must tell you that she plays the Stein pianoforte from Vienna, Your Grace.”Hugh lifted his chin, listening to her with concentration. “Does she? How wonderful.”The German rocked on the balls of his feet, clasping his hands before him, closing his eyes in contentment.Hugh drifted toward the inner room. He moved quietly, drawn as he was by the melody that spoke of eloquent delight, a pastoral scene, perhaps, or a meeting of lovers. The woman at the piano was absorbed in her effort. Eyes upon the sheets, leaning forward now and then to ensure she read the notes correctly, she swayed in a tempo that spoke of her devotion to conquer the song. Absorbed in her challenge, she did not notice him. Her bonnet, a brown leghorn of straw, capped her dark red curls, and the brim cut her side view. Unseen, Hugh could admire her at leisure. He reveled in her rapture as she opened her mouth on execution of one passage or wrinkled her brow at another. She ran her hands along the keys, strident or delicate, as the notes required. She cast up the lieder as it’s composer would have admired—with flair and panache. And at the end, she widened her eyes, and sat back on the stool, hands to her lap, sighing in satisfaction at her own accomplishment.And Hugh applauded.She startled, turned and snared him in her amber gaze.That striking color, he had not expected. Hazel would have been his first assumption because it would complement the river of rich auburn that was her hair. Grey, even, to match the faint tones of pink on her cheeks or the blush on her lips. But the tawny was riveting.“Sir?” She cast glances from him to Breyer.The proprietor scurried forward, clapping himself. “Wunderbar, wunderbar.Permit me to introduce you.” Hugh strode forward himself, ignoring the demands of etiquette. “Allow me to say how marvelous that was.” How gorgeous you are. How accomplished.“Oh, I—I thank you, sir.” She managed to get to her feet, pushing back the stool and clasping her hands together. “I dabble—““On the contrary, you are a musician of talent.”“She composes,” Herr Breyer said with as much pride as if she were his prodigy.“Do you? How enchanting.” He stood over her now. She was taller than most women, the top of that terrifying hat reaching his chin. She was lovelier than most, too, her complexion flawless ivory and brightened by the warmth of the shop’s fire. Or was she flustered by his surreptitious observation of her? Regency Romp #1
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1hWjg79 ARe : NOOK:   KOBO:  Whatever the cause, he wanted her at ease.“Forgive me for startling you.” He took her hand and stunned as she was, she let him. “I do not usually shock women.”Those compelling eyes of hers melted to mellow tones, even as she sought to retrieve her hand from his. “That is good to know, sir.”Hugh kept her hand in his. “I had told Herr Breyer long ago I wished to hear someone play this instrument who had the ability to draw out its full potential. I did not expect my wish to be fulfilled by accident nor to see such a lovely woman do me the honor.”“Oh, sir, thank you. You are too kind.” She blushed, her cheeks turning a delicate rose.The porcelain perfection of her skin suffused with a fair tint that inspired him to imagine her breasts budding, her body bare to him. He smiled at her, hopefully covering his magnetic attraction to her with some politesse. Certainly, her talent and her beauty belied her diminished means. She was a study in dramatic contrasts. And soldier, spy, peer of the realm that he was, he was rarely fascinated by a person. Hardly ever by a woman.“I have heard many play,” he told her, “but few with such verve.” Or beauty. “And Herr Breyer tells me you have not seen the composition before you sat down here to play.”

Find Cerise: Cerise's website: http://cerisedeland.com Cerise's Blog: http://cerisedeland.blogspot.com Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cerisedeland...Follow me on Twitter: @cerisedeland Goodreads: Cerise DeLandPinterest: www.pinterest.com/frenchcherryred  

Need a WICKED TAKEOVER? Tina Donahue tells you why! Out now!

She’s just inherited a tattoo parlor…and the hunk who comes with it. Lauren’s in a helluva mess. Not only has she lost her corporate job, her long-absent father just left her a struggling tattoo parlor along with the virile dude who runs it. Dante’s sinfully hot with a killer smile and inked biceps. Lauren’s full-figured, sorta pretty and wanting him badly. Dream on. She’s here to sell the place as quickly as possible for some much-needed cash.Dante sees the heat in Lauren’s eyes despite her conservative appearance. He recognizes the dynamite woman she could be if she’d just loosen up and have some wicked fun. Dominance and submission. Making love in a public place. Having her lush body always accessible to and ready for his. Carnal games that seduce them until lust turns to surprising need and friendship to something deeper that might just change their futures.
Excerpt #1:
At a sound from behind, she turned. A guy came down the hall, his attention on the clipboard he held.Lauren’s heart stalled then raced.She guessed him to be in his early thirties, a mountain of a man, possibly six-three, not a trace of fat on his hard body, just smooth bronze skin and slabs of muscles. Lord, lord, lord. He wore faded jeans and a gray sleeveless tee. His bulging biceps sported tats. The one on his right arm was an armband of what appeared to be thorns. The design on his left arm had a tribal look about it, possibly Celtic, a series of thick black swirls that intertwined.Lauren pressed her toes into her heels to keep from swaying or moving closer.His hair was shoulder length, like a pirate’s, a dark brown color, thick and silky that encouraged a woman to run her fingers through it to ease those strands away from his gorgeous face. Masculine. Decidedly Latin. Virile to the extreme. Even though it was barely two o’clock, he already had five o’clock shadow and more testosterone pumping through him than the law should have allowed.She imagined him nude. Hell, she imagined both of them naked, his bristly cheeks tickling the insides of her thighs, his tongue lapping her cleft, settling on her clit but not rushing her climax. No damn way. Lauren figured a guy who looked as great as he did wouldn’t let her come quickly. He’d make her wait for pleasure. Once she was blubbering in delight, he’d bend her over the front counter and warn her to behave, which meant she couldn’t moan too loudly as he spanked her. Her cries of delight would come later when he plunged his meaty cock into her juicy cunt, taking what he wanted, because that’s the kind of man he was.Uninhibited. Alpha to the core.Lauren whimpered.Despite the strains of Spanish guitars flowing from the sound system, he’d obviously heard the noise she’d made. Halting suddenly, he lifted his face, his dark brown eyes meeting hers. He smiled easily, confidently.Her bones went soft.“Hey,” he said.Lauren’s belly fluttered at his deep, rich baritone.Noting her office wear, he put the clipboard on the front counter and moved closer, his stride smooth and assured. His fragrance wafted toward her. Something clean and citrusy that reminded Lauren of summer days, an ocean breeze, sun baking naked skin.She locked her knees to keep her balance. Her attention inched from his impressive Adam’s apple to his luscious mouth, his full, kissable lips.“Did you lose your way?” he asked.With him, any woman would. Not only was he beautiful, intelligence burned in his eyes and reflected in his surprisingly educated speech. “I’m sorry, what?”He regarded her suit and heels. “Are you looking for another shop?”“No.”Surprise registered on his face. “You’re here for a tat?”Lauren stared at the ones on his biceps, unable to help herself. Damn, they were hot. “Not exactly.”He nodded. The ends of his hair swayed over his broad shoulders. Mesmerized, Lauren watched.“A piercing?” he asked.“What?”“Are you here for a piercing?” He gestured to another wall filled with pictures. The muscles in his upper arm flexed.Lauren bit back a sound of approval at that and the silky dark hair in his pit. She pictured her face pressed to it as she smelled his wonderful, male scent.“You can see what we offer in those photos,” he said. “We also have binders of what we’ve done for past clients to give you an idea of what you might like.”Lauren nodded absently, wondering if he was dating the young woman who’d left here earlier. If not, the spring in her step was probably from him inking a hidden part of her. “Do people really get their tongues tattooed?”He grinned, showing perfect teeth. “You bet.”“Why?”He shrugged good-naturedly. “Why not?”Clearly, he wasn’t uptight as she’d always been. How Lauren envied that. “Have you?”“Have I what?”“Had your tongue tattooed? Or are the ones on your arms all that you have?”His smile broadened. He spoke conspiratorially. “I have another, though not on my tongue.”Uh-huh. Lauren wondered if he’d inked his balls and cock, hoping he hadn’t. His equipment had to be as awesome as the rest of him. No way could anyone improve on nature’s perfection.She sighed.He regarded her thoughtfully, really taking in her short blonde hair, clothes and finally her features, including the small mole near the side of her mouth. There, he lingered, as though he liked the beauty mark.Are you nuts? A guy like him? Get real.He continued to study her mouth.A wave of desire and embarrassment rushed through Lauren so quickly, her throat and cheeks got hot. He smiled softly this time, as though he felt bad for making her uncomfortable. Lightly touching her arm, he murmured, “Let me get those binders so you can look through them.”“No, don’t. Please. That’s not why I’m here.”His dark eyebrows lifted a bit. “You’re selling something?” His attention went to her purse as though her product line was in there.“Uh no. I’m here to take over.”“Take over?”“Uh-huh.”He looked lost. “As in what?”“This place.” At his continuing confusion, she blurted, “I own this place and everything in it, including you.”
BIO: Tina Donahue is an award-winning, bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance for Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Siren Publishing, and Kensington. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three of her erotic romances (Adored, Lush Velvet Nights, and Deep, Dark, Delicious) were named finalists in the 2011 EPIC competition. The French review site, Blue Moon reviews, chose her erotic romance Sensual Stranger as their Book of the Year 2010 (erotic category). The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for Lush Velvet Nights, and two of her titles (The Yearning and Deep, Dark, Delicious) received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition (2011 and 2012). Take Me Away and Adored both won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina is featured in the 2012 Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. She was the editor of an award–winning Midwestern newspaper and worked in Story Direction for a Hollywood production company.
FB Fanpage: https://www.facebook.com/TinaDonahueBooks Email: tina@tinadonahue.comWebsite: http://www.tinadonahue.com/ Blog: http://www.tinadonahue.com/blog/Twitter: http://twitter.com/tinadonahueFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/tina.donahue.75Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/146988.Tina_DonahueTriberr: http://triberr.com/tinadonahuePinterest: http://pinterest.com/authortina/my-books/Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/author/tinadonahueMy page at TRR: http://erotic.theromancereviews.com/mypageprofile.php?location=tinadonahueEC Author Page: https://www.ellorascave.com/index.php/authors/index/author/slug/tina-donahue/ Samhain Author Page: http://store.samhainpublishing.com/Tina-Donahue-pa-1630.html

LADY VARNEY has a new client in Cerise DeLand's #Regency #Romp #1: Interview with Justin Belmont!

Regency Romp #1
See buy links below. Regency Romp #2
Debuts Sept. 21 everywhere!  Character Interview!  LADY VARNEY’s RISQUE BUSINESS hero, Justin Belmont is in the house!


Lady Kitty Varney runs a discreet, but risqué matchmaking business to support herself and pay off her late husband's debts. When Viscount Justin Belmont appears in her parlor, Kitty's latest client is the very man she was forbidden to marry years ago. Kitty wonders if she can find Justin a woman worthy of him…and if she can bear to match him to another.
But when Justin lists his own criteria for a wife, Kitty is among the few candidates suitable. And he demands each candidate spend one night of bliss with him in his love nest.
Can Kitty deny herself the opportunity to enjoy the charms of the man she's never forgotten? Lady Varney's risqué business might be her saving grace—but it may well become her undoing.
1. Justin Belmont is an American. So how does he feel about being named a Viscount?
I am delighted that my grandfather has named me his heir to the Earldom. Yes, I am and was an illegitimate son but without any other legitimate heirs, I find that I am now able to enter English society and pursue my one goal in life.
2. And just what is that one goal, Justin?
Years ago, when I was a privateer sailing out of American harbors, I sailed a ship attacked by Barbary pirates. Taking them quickly as prisoners, I also took a young Englishwoman whom they had captured days before when they won a battle with an English merchant ship.  That lady whom I saved was an English baroness. But her father forbid me to court her. I was unacceptable to him and he ordered Kitty to marry an old man, a titled one, instead. That broke her heart. And mine.
Now that I am accepted by the ton, I recently learned that Kitty is a widow. What’s more, she runs a business. God knows why. But the business is one I plan to use to make my way to see her.
3. So just what is this business and what are your plans?
Kitty makes matches for men in search of a bride. She earns excellent money at this and I now have money. More than I ever need.  I plan to hire her to find a wife for me. One to my specifications. My very particular tastes!
I know she cannot refuse me.  I plan to ask for quite a bit from her—and her skills.
4.   Tell us about your specifications for a wife.I want one who is blonde, a noblewoman in her own right, a blueblood. While I understand those are very specific and noblewomen who carry their own title are few and far between, nonetheless, I need that in my spouse. It legitimizes me further, don’t you see?
And then there is the one element I demand in a wife: Her willingness in bed. I will not take a cold fish to my sheets. Why should I? Kitty must understand this and accept it. I need to learn if each candidate is a sensuous woman.
But I wish to review only one woman’s talents in that arena. Kitty.
5. What will you do if she refuses you?
I think she loved me years ago. I intend to make her love me more now. And if I cannot have her, I will return to America and take up my ship again.
I cannot bear to think of her alone for the rest of her life. And me as well.
LADY VARNEY’S RISQUE BUSINESS available here: Amazon ARe NOOK:   KOBO:  
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PLAY ACTING! Get some Gin and Jazz from Morticia Knight!

https://www.totallybound.com/play-actingThanks for having me here today Cerise and letting me share this final installment in the Gin & Jazz series. I have an exclusive excerpt to share with you as well. The books all take place during the Roaring Twenties and feature the exploits of several men who trudge their way through the pitfalls and decadence of Hollywood. This one can be read as a standalone as it tells the complete love story of two men from the series who haven’t been able to find their HEA yet. Poor guys…
Former screen idol, Roman Pasquale, struggles to survive in Hollywood as the silent film era comes to a close. But a fresh new playwright is in town and he wants Roman to be more than just his star.
The past few years haven’t been kind to fading film star, Roman Pasquale. But then again, he was never very kind to anyone else either. He’s had time to reminisce on his mistakes and to accept responsibility for how he hurt others. Now that Global Studios has turned its back on him, he’s had to sell his grand estate and start over in a modest apartment.
His former co-star, actress Maude Simons, suggests that he meet with new playwright, Max Vogel. Not only will he get the chance to be the star again, Roman can really use the money. What he doesn’t expect is how strongly he’s attracted to the easygoing, confident young man—and the very wicked thoughts he has about him.
Playwright and director, Max Vogel, is delighted that the great Roman Pasquale has agreed to star in his play. What he is unprepared for however, is the intense physical spark that ignites the moment they meet. He’s been warned of Roman’s reputation for being difficult to work with, but he’s willing to take the risk—even though his career depends on the success of this one play.
Max needs to coax a heartfelt performance out of Roman, and Roman needs to live up to his resolve to be a better man. But maybe the real issue is whether or not the director and actor can resist the passion they have for one another, a lust so strong that it catches them unaware. Is their lust really love? Or will the drive for success destroy any hope for a happily-ever-after?
Exclusive Excerpt from Play Acting (Gin & Jazz 7)
“How may I be of help to you, sir?”The host spoke in a flat tone of voice, regarding him with expert indifference. Did I really enjoy this charade at one time?“I’m meeting a Mr Max Vogel at one o’clock. Has he arrived?”Roman made certain that his tone and expression was just as apathetic.“Mr Pasquale, I presume?”He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and fought to keep his disdain for the smug host under control.“Yes, you may presume.”“Right this way, sir.”Already Roman wanted to escape, to go back to his apartment that had managed to become a safe haven for him within a very short time. The entire business of being out and about, prancing around as though he were still the same exalted film star of before had him unnerved, sweating—even trembling. He had the bizarre sensation that he reeked of fear, of desperation. That this Max person would immediately spot it and Roman would be exposed for the giant failure that he was.As they passed the long family style tables they eventually reached a secluded section that contained private booths. Rounding the corner, Roman spotted him. It was Max, he was sure of it. He was seated at the far end of the room in a half moon shaped booth. He had one arm draped casually over the back of the cushion. His body was in a state of complete relaxation, a slight look of contentment on his face. Roman was too far away still to ascertain many details about the young man, except that Maude had been right about her basic assessment. He was young. He had dark curly hair. And he appeared not to have a care in the world.When they were within almost five feet of the table, the bored host spoke up.“Mr Vogel? Your party has arrived.”Max snapped his head in Roman’s direction, an easy smile lighting up his face—his rather attractive face. He leaned up, reaching across the table with his hand extended. Roman accepted his offer, the warmth of Max’s strong fingers curling around his own unexpectedly enjoyable.“Mr Pasquale, it’s a great honor.”Shocked at his own reaction, Roman reluctantly pulled his hand away after giving Max’s a final squeeze.“The honor is all mine, Mr Vogel.”He’d said it as he’d unbuttoned his suit coat, elegantly lowering himself into the booth. Max was seated in the very middle at the curve, and Roman sat to his right. Since Roman was over six feet tall, he was mindful not to stretch his legs out too far or he would be in danger of nudging Max’s feet. He swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable in a way he hadn’t been in a long while.“Please call me Max.”Roman smiled in the slightest. Yes. He wanted to call him Max.“Then you must call me Roman.”“I’d like that.”Max still had an easy smile on his lips and he gazed at Roman with what he could best describe as an open and honest expression. It was impossible for Roman to keep from completely studying him. It was hard to ascertain what his body was like exactly underneath the suit jacket, but he appeared trim. The mop of curly hair was being vainly held at bay on the sides with some pomade—however, it seemed that Max had given up on taming it completely. But it was the man’s eyes that held him. They were a lighter shade of green that was brighter than any he’d ever seen before. Set in the pale skin and contrasting with the dark hair, the overall effect was breathtaking.Breathtaking?Roman pursed his lips and adjusted himself in the booth.“If this restaurant isn’t suitable for you, we can go somewhere else. I want you to be comfortable.”Max appeared to be eyeing him in a concerned way. In a way that no one had bothered to look at him in a very long while. Maude may be concerned about him at times, but she’d certainly never looked at him like that.“This is quite acceptable, my dear Max.” He made a show of glancing about the room with interest. “I’ve heard wonderful things.”Max’s captivating eyes lit up. “Oh marvelous, you haven’t been here before? I’d love to share with you some of my favorite things they have. What do you like? I can make some suggestions.” He stopped, turning almost shy for a moment. “That is, if you don’t mind.”Roman cleared his throat and tried to maintain his composure. All thoughts of potential employment had been temporarily eradicated. Something told him that he needed to keep all of his focus on not behaving like a complete dolt in front of the sensuous morsel seated next to him. He held no delusions that the delicious Max Vogel would ever be interested in his ancient ass, but regardless, Roman didn’t want to make a fool of himself. “Not at all. I’m sure any suggestions you make would be quite enjoyable.” A bit of his previous rakishness had come to the surface before he could prevent it. “I love it when a man knows what he wants.”Dear Lord. I do believe my cock is actually hardening. Max’s eyes widened just enough so that it was noticeable. “Excellent. I’ll bring the waiter over so we can order lunch and get to know one another a bit before we move on to business. Unless you’re pressed for time?”Oh yes, I’m so frightfully busy these days.“I cleared my schedule just for you, Max. You may have me for as long as you wish.”Max’s cheeks reddened a tad and Roman had to adjust himself again. He was most definitely hard for the delightful man. It had been so long since he’d felt real desire for someone, he’d thought it no longer possible.“I’m very glad to hear that. Let’s enjoy our meal then.”Max favored him with a warm smile.I would like to enjoy much more with you, Max Vogel.****Available at Totally Bound: https://www.totallybound.com/play-actingAmazon: http://www.amazon.com/Play-Acting-Gin-Jazz-Book-ebook/dp/B00N2B1V4S/ref=sr_1_10?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1409635559&sr=1-10&keywords=Morticia+KnightYou can find Morticia lurking about at these places:www.morticiaknight.blogspot.com
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