Cerise DeLand's Blog, page 42

LADY VARNEY's RISQUE BUSINESS out now, a funny, sexy Regency Romp!

AMAZON BUY LINK:  http://amzn.to/1hWjg79 A lady needs an occupation, doesn't she?
When she's widowed, lonely, pining for a man she never could have, she should start a business, take an interest in the world and oh, by the way, pay off her ingrate dead husband's gambling debts.
Right?
Of course.
So what happens when the love of her life reappears in her parlor?
Hires her?
To find a wife for him?
Then, wants her to "audition," too?
Yes, I know you see where I'm going with this.
Lady Varney is wise, but oh so susceptible to a certain American pirate-turned-viscount's charm.
Read about risqué Lady Varney at all these vendors:
Amazon
Nook
Coming soon to:
Kobo
iTunes.
When?
Well, Amazon is out now. NOOK too.
All others soon, my darling, SOON.
I will post links for you here, there, everywhere. Stay hungry for my cherries! MORE TO COME!
Your nibble of my newest cherry?Here it is! Excerpt, Copyright 2014, Cerise DeLand. All rights reserved. Kitty stiffened her backbone, but felt no stronger than a floundering mackerel. How she took the circular staircase down to her drawing room was a mystery, given her knees of jelly. “Buck up, Puss,” she chastised herself. She pulled open the double doors herself rather than call her butler and crowd the occasion with unnecessary others. She needed to look upon Justin Belmont at this particular moment alone. And oh, my. Yes. To realize that the newly dubbed Viscount Belmont, American-born, Englishman by blood, nobleman now by adoption and the entail, was even more devastatingly handsome than a decade ago when the world seemed fresh and full of positive possibilities.“My Lord Belmont.” Kitty sailed toward him where he stood before her fireplace, her expression, she hoped, one of civility. My lord, how can you shake my sanity so easily with that harsh look? That painful curiosity in your hazel eyes?Here before her stood the man who had saved her from lascivious Frenchmen more than a decade ago. Huge and imposing as Satan then, he was now more muscular, his face more angular, his hair more raven against skin more pale. In clothes that were better tailored and more form-fitting than the loose linen shirts that once had flowed to his fingertips, he was now the epitome of a titled English gentleman. He gave no hint of the American privateer who had captured her body with his boldness, her mind with his intellect and her heart with his artless charm.She walked forward, her gaze up at his imperial height, her hand out for him to take.He touched her fingertips, his own cold as the grave. “Lady Varney. Kind of you to receive me.”You don’t sound as though you think me kind. You sound…dismayed, appalled, even—dear god—disgusted that you are here.“Please, my lord, do sit with me.” She nodded to one settee, and as he complied, she took the one facing him. His eyes, such a myriad of earthen colors, faceted in the lamplight of late afternoon. They flowed over her hair, her lips, her breasts, her fingers. Everywhere his gaze touched, her body pulsed, remembering how once he had looked at her with desire. Not this…this indifference. That sparked her to lie with her next words, “I am delighted you have come to see me.”He did not even breathe as he said, “Are you now?”“Of course,” she countered his challenge, but stayed true to her manners by adding, “I have heard of your recent good fortune.”He cocked a long black brow. “When the news is published in the scandal sheets as well as the social notes, nothing in London is a secret.”She licked her lower lip. “Very little.”“But this service of yours,” he said with measured tone as he circled a hand in the air to denote her business, “this is a tidbit only the men of the ton share with each other.”She hastened to agree. “Those who need help have found my—”“Assistance? That is what you call your match-making, am I correct?” One corner of his mouth tipped up and she could not say if the move denoted humor or ruefulness. “Whatever your services, I need them.”His directness had her fighting for a response. “I hear you pride yourself on your knowledge of human nature,” he prodded her.She lifted her chin. “Or to be exact, the nature of men.”He barked in laughter. “If you knew that, dearest woman, you and I would not be sitting here.”Should she show him the door? She bristled and sought to hold her ground, reprimand him, if she could. “You asked for this appointment, my lord.”“It seemed the only way to see you,” he shot back.“Perhaps I am mistaken, but I was under the impression that you requested a Sunday afternoon appointment because—”“Because since my newfound status as a peer of the realm was announced in September, you have not invited me to any of your dinner parties.”“Forgive me, but you really wished an invitation to dinner?” Incredulous at that conclusion, she felt a thrill sweep up her spine that he might indeed not seek a wife. “I—I am only recently out of my year of mourning for my husband, Justin, and those who may dine at my table with me do not include bachelors.”“Especially bachelors whom you once knew? Ah, the rules of this blasted society!” He leaned forward, his gaze at once tender and yearning. “Kitty—”“Please, sir, I am still Lady Varney to you.”“You never were that to me. Besides, you just called me Justin.” His eyes twinkled.“I did not!”“Of course, you did.” He sat back, crossed one long leg over the other and seemed too well satisfied with himself to soothe her ruffled senses.“We are here to discuss business,” she insisted with a hauteur that had him narrowing his gaze on her.It was not a kindly glance, either, but the fierce glare he’d worn so long ago as he climbed over the sides of the French Cyr to rescue her from those bastards. He blinked. Drew back and appraised her. Good. At least we are now on firm footing. Two equals about to do business. Not two older people who had cared passionately for each other in their youth. She tipped her head when he remained silent. “Please tell me what you wish.”He set his jaw, never having cared for anyone to give him orders. “As you know, I am to inherit the Earl of Belmont’s titles and estates. He is ailing. Sadly, I might add. I have come to care for my uncle deeply in the past six years. When I first set foot in England eleven years ago, I must say I had no idea he and I would ever get on. But we did. Do. Save for one issue.”Kitty nodded, knowing precisely the matter that divided them. Touchy subject though it was, she went on boldly, because that was her wont, because it was her business to be forthright and because she knew this man very well. Or once had. “He wants you to marry.”Justin seemed to retreat even further into himself. His jaw firmed. His lips thinned. His large eyes turned to glittering stones. “He wishes me to marry an heiress with title, high social standing and a suitable dowry. To put a fine point on it, he wants the perfect woman.”“The earl thinks appropriately. His titles are six hundred years old and his estates are numerous and bring in a sizeable sum each year.”Justin snorted. “My uncle was right about you.”Kitty felt what would come next would not be a compliment. “How so?”“He declares there is not much you do not know about the peers of the realm, their income or their need for propriety.”“To learn the genealogies of the famous one hundred families was a favorite pastime for a lonely little girl.”His features softened to a genuine compassion that made her heart ache. “You were alone as a child?”She swallowed, not wishing to remember her youth. “I do have one sister, younger by ten years. But our parents were preoccupied with society. Hence, the house was often cold and dark. But the library was a wonderful room, warm and full of enchanting tales. Not all of them were fiction.”His mouth spread wide in a grin and her memory of how those lips felt on her own was one she told herself could not be so fresh after more than a decade. Yet, it was.She tipped her head, unable to suppress a smile. “Please tell me about the kind of woman you wish me to seek for you.”“Ah. Yes.” He scowled, his glittering eyes hard as glass. “First, she must be lovely.”“Of course.” No less for such a striking man. Besides, a plain woman would be intimidated by a husband who was so damned handsome.“Blonde.”“Blonde?” Hair color was often listed by a man, but not usually this early in the discussion.“Golden-haired.”She shifted. That specific? “I see.”“She must be a peer in her own right.”Kitty knit her brows, recalling how her own  barony of writ  had been the lure to Henry. “Why is this important?”“Her own blue-blood complements my lack. Since I was born on the wrong side of the blanket, a lady in deed secures my own legitimacy.”Kitty’s mind was racing. How many single golden-haired ladies who were titled in their own right could she count? Four? Five? “It also enhances the reputation of any of my offspring.”“True. I had not thought of that.”Looking innocent as a cherub, he lifted a palm. “You see my logic.”“Certainly.” Dear god, a taskmaster. “What else might I add to her qualifications?” A huge dowry? That’s what the ton says the old Earl demands of you.“She must be shorter than I. Talented at the piano forte. A good conversationalist.”“Really, how interesting.” Her gaze wandered to her own French piano. She frowned and noted, “Most men would have asked that she be a wizard at cards.”He chuckled. “Most bachelors,” she ventured, “want to ensure they keep their money in the family.”“Oh, never doubt, my dear Kitty, that I have other requirements perhaps more astonishing than not caring about my future wife’s ability at the card table.”Oh, my.  This was the point at which many men told her they wanted peculiar qualities in their spouse. She hadn’t expected any oddities from Justin. Would she be disillusioned as well as surprised? And even more jealous? “Do tell me what they are.”“I want someone versed in the art of conjugal bliss.”Was she gaping at him? “I’m sorry. I supposed, I mean, I presumed—”“You thought I wanted a virgin?”“I did. Most men do.”“Not I.”“Why ever not?” Was that her own shrill voice?A grin flashed over his features. “I also want someone who has had a child.”“A—?” Kitty blinked, clearing her impression of this man who now seemed suddenly so calculating. “Pardon me?”“I need an heir. I need to be assured that the woman I marry can conceive and carry a child to term, birth him well and rear him. This means she must be of good constitution. After all, I will need not one child but at least two. Preferably three.”“Three.”“Children.” Kitty could not believe her ears at his extraordinary list, but nodded and went on with the topic. “Raised by her, of course.” “I want no fainting lily. No frail Bess. And no parade of nurses and governesses.”“But surely, you need one,” she babbled, “ of each.”“Of course. One governess. One nurse. And one loving mother.”“I see.” Kitty began to have a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach that signaled either rage or a headache. Stress like this reminded her of verbal sparing with Henry who thankfully had gone to his Maker. The cure for that had been for her to run to her garden. Prune her roses. Trim her yews. At the moment, she could do neither, but deal with Justin and his demands. “You are being very specific.”“I am.”“Almost too much so.”“Why do you say that?”She rose to her feet, the sensation of standing so quickly made her head light. Airy. Euphoria had her swaying. So unexpected was this feeling that she walked toward the fireplace and put a steadying hand to the mantel. “Let me recount your requirements.”He nodded as he sat in his chair, looking so infernally regal and congenial that she wanted to gather the fine lapels of his frockcoat in her fists and shake him. “Proceed.”“You want a young woman, an heiress with wealth—”He raised a hand to make her pause. “She need not be young. Too young and she is not useful to me as a wife who can bear children.”“Quite. Shall we say that you want a seasoned woman? Yes?”He nodded. “Go on.”“Blonde. Golden-haired, specifically. Shorter than you, so then she must be five-feet-four or five inches tall. Good at the piano, in the assembly hall and the ballroom. Versed in the bedroom. A woman who has already borne a child and who wishes to bear more. She must also enjoy the process of raising them. Anything I have missed?”He let his gaze drift up to her cap of golden curls, then down to lock on her eyes. “That is an excellent summary.”She braced herself for what she was now about to say. “I have made matches for men for a long time.”“Ever since you began to emerge from mourning for your husband.”She gave Justin a small smile. Realizing he knew this about her was a delight. “Yes, and I have created some very fine marriages. Though not all of my couples have yet taken vows, those five who did, are very happy.”Justin brushed imaginary lint from his trousers. “So I have heard.”“But these requirements you list are unusual.”“I am a very exacting man.”“You are. Your friends declare it. I hear your tailor does, too. Your butler.”“I shall have to reprimand my man for engaging in gossip,” he told her but his eyes and his lips quirked in amusement.She tipped her head, unable to resist grinning at him and learning more. “Your butler is a good friend of my cook. They talk often.”“To you as well, it seems.”“My sources are legion. They help me with the work I do.” She raised her brows. “You must realize to match-make I need to know many facts about people.”“A necessity of your occupation.” He winked at her, sending her back to days on his ship when she’d been so entranced by his charm. She cleared her throat and returned to the subject of his visit. “Your list limits me severely.”“I am aware of that.”“There are few women who possess all the qualifications.” He rose and came to stand before her.So close now, she breathed his cologne. Smelled the mint on his breath. Admired the dimple in his left cheek and the facets of green and brown in his large heavy-lidded eyes. “In fact, there are only three women who meet all of your requirements.”“Ah. But wait, you have not heard them all.”“No? Preposterous! There is a very small pool of possible candidates, Justin. To add more requirements would be burdensome—”“But my fortune will be very large. My homes, here and in the country, are grand estates. I will be married to this woman for many decades, and I need the best companion possible.” He frowned, very determined looking. “I have the right to declare to whom I shall be joined!”“Precisely so, my lord, but we must be prudent.”“You be prudent! I shall be as I am!”His virulence shocked her. “Your fees are high. I shall have whom I want! Who is best suited to me.” He strode closer and seized her arms, his powerful body dwarfing hers. Once his might had been comforting, but now, full of fury, his size made her wince. She had been intimidated by her husband far too often and she would not be by any man ever again. She stiffened her spine. “Tell me your other requirements.” “She must spend twenty-four hours with me at Belmont Manor.”“Oh, I see.” She let out a breath, relieved. “You want her to visit.”“No, I want her in my bed.”Kitty blinked. “I...I’m sorry. You want her—?”“Naked. I want to learn if she likes men. Me, to be exact.”Out now at Amazon          Nook  and soon on KOBO, ARe and iTunes WHO IS CERISE DELAND?      An author acclaimed for her eloquence and scintillating tales of romance and suspense, Cerise DeLand writes historical and contemporary novels with spice and charm. See http://www.cerisedeland.com  and http://cerisedeland.blogspot.comFacebook Cerise DeLand
Twitter: @CeriseDeLand

BRIGAND, a yummy #Regency, by Sabrina York out now! 4th in her series!

My pal Sabrina York has another yum yum Regency for you!
The Fourth Book in the Scorching Noble Passions Series by Sabrina York Releases!Fans of Sabrina York’s steamy Regency series have been eagerly awaiting the release of, the fourth book (following award winning Folly, Dark Fancy and the scorchingDark Duke) which follows the adventures of Violet Wyeth who is captured by a vengeful Scottish Brigand…only to discover he is none other than Ewan St. Andrews, the boy she once loved.
Noble Passions: Follow the decadent exploits of friends and enemies as they find love and passion in the glittering world of the Regency—and its dark underbelly. Each book is a stand-alone read.If you’re new to the series, download Sabrina’s free teaser book at http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/to read blurbs and excerpts for this popular series. Each book in the series is a stand-alone story.
Brigand bySabrina York
Kidnapped and held prisoner by menacing Scottish brigand, the notorious McCloud, Violet Wyeth does her best to persevere…and resist his rakish charms. But when she realizes The McCloud is really Ewan St. Andrews, the boy who once saved her life, the boy who once kissed her and made her heart flutter, she is lost.Ewan has every intention of marrying Lady Kaitlin MacAllister. He desperately needs the entrée into the ton this bride can provide. But when his bride is delivered—bound and gagged—it’s not Kaitlin. It’s Violet Wyeth—the girl who betrayed him and ruined his life when he was a boy. He keeps her, determined to punish her for her sins. But when he discovers the truth about what really happened so long ago, and seething passion rises between them, he can no longer hold on to his rusty grudge. By the time he realizes how much he loves Violet—that he always has—he’s lost her.All he can do is follow her. Follow her into the bowels of hell—and partake in the torment of the glittering London Season, where the harpies are far more dangerous than a Scottish brigand.
READ A STEAMY EXCERPTBy reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.An Excerpt From: BRIGANDCopyright © SABRINA YORKHoly Heaven. She would never take a bath for granted again.Violet stumbled on the stairs and the contents of the heavy bucket sloshed, dousing her with hot water. She sucked in a breath as pain seared. She set the bucket on the landing and pulled her skirts up. Her skin was red. She ruffled the tatters of her petticoats, waiting for the sting to subside.The door to the Laird’s solar swung open. She stepped back so it wouldn’t hit her and it slammed into the wall. The McCloud glowered down at her. His gaze stalled on her bare legs. It was riveted—until she dropped her skirts—then he snapped, “What the hell is taking so long?” His glanced back at her damp skirts and his frown darkened. He picked up the last bucket and carried it to the tub, dumping it in himself. “For god’s sake. How long does it take to bring a few measly buckets up from the kitchen?”A few measly buckets? It had taken twelve trips, each with a bucket that weighed near as much as she. Violet glared at him. “Is that enough?” She probably didn’t need to clip the words quite so much but she had already worked for hours. She was tired and sweaty and her skin ached and Morna was waiting for her to come help prepare dinner.He swished his hand in the water. “Yes. I suppose that will do.”Not a thank you. Not a smile. Nothing.Beast.She whirled and started for the door.“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice rumbled, a deep tenor. Her steps slowed.“Back to the kitchen.” She frowned at him over her shoulder. “I have work to do.”“You have work to do here.”“I beg your pardon?” What did he want her to do now, wash his bottom?“You’re going to bathe me.”Her heart stilled at his words, his intent, and especially his expression. “Wh-what?”“Come now, Violet. The laird of the manor can’t be expected to scrub his own back, can he now? Be a good girl, close the door and come over here.”She gaped at him. Gaped. He expected her to remain in a room with a naked man? He expected her to touch him?“Close your mouth. You look like a trout.”“But…I c-can’t. I can’t b-bathe you.”“You can. And you will.” His eyes glimmered with something other than humor. The unspoken threat hummed in the stony chamber. “You may want to turn around while I undress, unless you want an early education.” He began to unbutton his shirt.With an undignified eep,Violet whirled and showed him her back until she heard the splash and his gusty sigh.“All right, girl. Get to work. Scrub my back.” He gestured to a chunk of soap and a sponge on a small table. She picked them up, approached the tub and knelt behind him, trying not to stare at the bunching muscles, the broad expanse of tanned skin. She couldn’t help but notice it was covered with scars. Long and short, crisscrossing over one another. As though he’d been brutally beaten and lashed time after time after—“Did you close the door?”Her bubbling sympathy evaporated in a rush. She stuck her tongue out at him, but only because he couldn’t see. Then, with a heavy sigh, she levered herself off the floor and closed the door. Well, slammed it.His chuckle annoyed her more.He leaned forward and peeped at her over his shoulder. “Come along now. My back isn’t going to scrub itself.”She took her place behind him again, being very careful not to look at his broad, be-furred chest as she approached. She wet the soap and sponge and created a lather. Being very careful not to touch him, she began to scour his back. He winced. “Not so hard.”His plaintive tone probably shouldn’t have sent a shard of evil satisfaction through her, but it did. This man had been a boor to her from the moment he’d found her on the floor in Callum MacAllister’s cottage. She dug deeper.He lurched forward. “Ouch!”“Hold still,” she muttered, making a wide swath across the ridged skin. “You’re filthy. I need to scrub.”“I am not filthy.”“You are. Stop wriggling.”Amazingly, he did, though her efforts bordered on abuse. But my, it felt good.When she started on his neck and ears, he caught her wrist. “All right. I think that’s enough.”“I’m not done.”“Oh, you’re not done.” He tugged her around to the side of the tub so she faced him. She focused on his crooked nose, schooled her attention not to drift lower. “Now it’s time for you to scrub my front.”She really disliked his tone. There was mischief—and something much darker—coiling in there. “Fine.” She dropped to her knees and wet the sponge again, but rather than dunking it, merely skimmed the surface of the water.Fortunately the bath was murky, so she couldn’t see anything. But she knew what was down there and she didn’t want to find it by accident. She trained her attention on his chest, and her heart lurched.A long, nasty scar scored him. Like a puckered lightning bolt, it made its jagged way from his left nipple down to his belly. Her pulse skittered. Her breath snagged in her throat. She’d only ever seen a scar like that once before.A scar exactly like that.Her gaze snapped back to his face. She looked at him. Really looked at him, perhaps for the first time. Her mouth went dry. The gray eyes laced by thick black lashes. The broad, smiling mouth. The curve of his jaw.It couldn’t be. Could it?“W-where did you get that scar?”He glanced down and stilled. Annoyance flickered across his features. “Every man has scars.”“Not-not like that.” She sat back on her haunches. She didn’t realize she was squeezing the sponge until water seeped through her skirts.“All right. A knife fight.”“Knives don’t cut like that.” It was uneven and rippled, as though the flesh and been shorn off in places and sliced in others.“Well, it was a goddamn knife fight. I was in a vicious battle with a man in an alley. I gutted him.” His lip curled into a sneer. “Does it frighten you, my lady?”“No.” But that was a lie. It did frighten her. Because Ewan, her friend, the boy who had saved her, had gotten an eerily similar wound rescuing her from a watery grave. And surely this wasn’t Ewan. It couldn’t be.Ewan was gentle and sweet. He had liked her, maybe loved her. He had kissed her. And this man… This man had taken her prisoner and mauled her and put her to work.And she hated him.He couldn’t be Ewan. He couldn’t. It would break her heart.“Goddamn it, girl, finish washing me. The water’s getting cold,” he barkedBut she couldn’t. She needed to know. She had to know.“It wasn’t a knife. It was ice.” A whisper, but he heard it. He froze, his gaze locked to hers. “You jumped in and found me in the water. Lifted me out. But you couldn’t get out yourself.”“I don’t know what you’re babbling about.”But he did. She could see it in his eyes. There, for a flash of an instant, she saw that boy in his eyes.She licked suddenly dry lips. “Ewan? Is it you?”He rose from the tub in an unholy rush. She didn’t have time to glanced away. The vision of his naked body, hard and lean, scarred and perfect, burned on her brain. He grabbed a cloth and covered his loins.“This bath is over. Get out.”She stood. Tried desperately not to tremble. “It is you. It is.”“Get out. Go!”“What happened to you, Ewan?”A dark cloud lowered on his already stormy brow. “What happened to me? You mean how did I become the beast that I am?” The vitriol in his voice made her shake, but she didn’t back down.“No, Ewan. Where did you go? No one would tell me and I always wondered…”Every muscle in his body tensed, vibrated. Violet knew, because she could see them all, a magnificent panoply.She should have been afraid. She should have been horrified. She should have skittered away like a frightened little rabbit. But she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t run.She knew—knew—her Ewan would never hurt her.Indeed, as he stared at her, his fury passed. He scrubbed a palm over his broad face. “Go,” he croaked. His tone was laced with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. Desolation? Greif? “Just go.”This time, she did.
About Sabrina YorkHer Royal Hotness, Sabrina York is the award winning author of over 20 hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy erotic romance to scorching BDSM. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebookor on Pintrest. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazonor wherever e-books are sold. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/ And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!
CURRENT PROMOSFree Teaser Book: http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/Newsletter & contest: http://sabrinayork.com/sabrinas-contest-and-newsletter/

FOLLOW SABRINALike my Facebook Author Page https://www.facebook.com/SabrinaYorkBooksFollow me on Twitter @sabrina_york Follow me on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5817917.Sabrina_YorkCheck out my Pintrest boards: http://www.pinterest.com/sabrinayork/boards/Like my Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Sabrina-York/e/B00856PDEO/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1382929432&sr=8-2-entCheck out my Barnes & Noble Author page: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/sabrina-yorkFollow me on Ellora’s Cave: https://www.ellorascave.com/index.php/authors/index/author/slug/sabrina-york/
Books by Sabrina YorkA Cowboy for Delilah (Erotic Contemporary for the Cowboy Heat Anthology, Cleis Press)Adam’s Obsession (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Dark Duke (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave) —Coming soonBrigand (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave)  Dark Fancy (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave)Devlin’s Dare: A Tryst island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary) Dragonfly Kisses: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary) Extreme Couponing (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Fierce (One Night Stand, Decadence Press)Five Alarm Fire (Erotic Contemporary for the High Octane Heroes Anthology, Cleis Press)Folly (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave)Heart of Ash: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary)Lust Eternal (Erotic Fantasy, Ellora’s Cave)  Pushing Her Buttons (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Making Over Maris (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Man Hungry (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Rebound: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary, Available on Amazon)Rebound is now available on SmashwordsRising Green (Erotic Horror, Ellora’s Cave) Saving Charlotte (Erotic Contemporary for the Smokin' Hot Firemen Anthology, Cleis Press)  Smoking Holt: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary) Training Tess (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Trickery (Erotic Contemporary with Magical Elements, Ellora’s Cave Hex Line) Tristan’s Temptation (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)

FALLEN LEAVES from Tina Gayle, author of #Executive Wives Club Series

Fallen Leaves Blurb -
As autumn comes to the Winston estate in Ohio, Amber Harrison learns further lessons in her new position as keeper for the spirits and ghosts who haunt the estate--and further lessons in love, too. She and her love, Carter Miller, grapple with the fears and passions of new love, while caught up in the storm of ancient family drama.


This is the second book in the unfolding saga of the psychics and talents associated with the Winston estate, a sheltered place where past, present, and future are woven into a single dramatic tapestry of love and desire. The tale spans multiple generations, multiple eras, and offers something special for all ages of reader. A sexy, erotic winner, with an assortment of couples to appeal to most tastes.


Excerpt: Copyright 2014, Tina Gayle, All rights reserved.
“How long before you install the new cabinets?”
He turned on the ladder. His dark brown eyes captured her, engulfing her in an encompassing warmth. She melted under his heated gaze, which ran from the top of her head to the white socks on her feet. He lifted a brow at her attire, but he didn’t comment on her pink sweat suit.
“With the old cabinets out of the way, I need to knock down this wall and tear up the flooring. The electrical work is next on the agenda.” He climbed off the ladder, yanked off his gloves, and slid a hand through his thick, wavy hair.
“It might be awhile before we install the new cabinets. Right now, we’re simply working to remove the old stuff so we can start fresh.” He smiled, which didn’t hide the dark circles under his eyes or the fatigue in the slump of his shoulders.
“There’s no hurry. If you’re busy with something else, this can wait until your Dad and Mattie come home next week.”
“No, Dad doesn’t want her dealing with this mess.” Carter unbuckled his tool belt and placed it on a workbench. “I promised him I’d have it done.”
“Is Grant helping?” Amber stepped around several pieces of sheetrock and stray bits of wood, to the bottom of the stairs.
He walked to the backdoor. “Friday, his classes are over at noon.”  With his hand resting on the doorknob, he appeared anxious to leave. “I’m headed to lunch, and then I need to drop by the office for a while. Are you sure you’re okay here by yourself?”
Amber toyed with the idea of saying no. She missed the taste of his lips and the strength of his arms, but she nodded instead. “Yes, I’m fine.”
After opening the door, he paused. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
She waved and turned to head to her room, satisfied she’d at least gotten him to talk. Her leaden feet trudged up the steps. Unexcited, she contemplated her latest assignment from the family council. How could she achieve such an impossible task?

Purchase links:
 Amazon | Smashwords | allromanceebooks

Haven't read the 1st book Summer's Growth - get it now at Smashwords for 99 cents with the promotion code NK36Z. expires 4/25
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/280906

BEYOND ADDICTION by Desiree Holt is a story you will say is Beyond Fabulous!

The answer to 50 Shades of Grey?
BEYOND ADDICTION by my buddy Desiree Holt.
THIS IS THE REAL story you yearned for and missed in 50 Shades of...whatever.
Sequel to Dangerous Addiction, from Something Wicked This Way Comes, Volume 1   When Fallon Crowe discovered her submissive side, she indulged it fully, reveling in her erotic nature—until she stepped into the brutally possessive world of Brian Willoughby. More than a year after she was literally dragged away from his abusive clutches,    Fallon is finally building a new life with Cord Jamieson, a Dom who reminds her that punishment can be loving, pain an aphrodisiac.   But when Fallon unexpectedly runs into Brian, he reawakens an addiction that never quite died. Now she’s torn between the caring relationship she’s established with Cord, and Brian’s darkly mesmerizing lifestyle that goes beyond safe, sane and consensual.   The choice is Fallon’s—the wrong one might destroy her completely.
Inside Scoop: This story features an abusive scene from a power-hungry man who’s perverted the lifestyle for his own sick pleasure. It may be too intense for some readers.A Romantica® BDSM erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
BUY LINK: http://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Addiction-Desiree-Holt-ebook/dp/B00JEBZ6TG/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1397237675&sr=1-1&keywords=Beyond+Addiction+desiree+holt

Your nibble:
Copyright 2014, Desiree Holt
  Cord hung his Stetson on a peg in the back hall and toed off his boots. They were covered in mud and various other substances and badly needed cleaning, but at the moment he was just too tired. He and the hands had spent most of the day riding fence line and making sure every pasture was secure before his new shipment of cattle arrived. They’d been a steal at an auction and he couldn’t resist. The bank had extended a substantial line of credit and that was the perfect reason to tap into it.  Everything was coming together much better than he could have hoped. The herd was finally at the size it needed to be and in the spring there would be new calves. The pastures of coastal hay were in good shape. And the work on the event center was nearly finished. Next week, he’d work with the hands who’d be leading trail rides and giving lessons and offering other guest activities, and oversee the finishing touches to the stables.  AT least he could relax where the party was concerned. Fallon was working her magic with an ease that he admired. He smiled as he thought about how much pleasure she brought to all areas of his life. After the party, after the post-event details were seen to, he planned to take her away for a long weekend where he could tie her to the bed and pleasure both of them in as many ways as he could dream up.Just the thought of that was enough to make his cock harden and strain against the fly of his jeans.  In the bedroom, he stripped off his clothes and dumped them in the hamper, then stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He was so aroused he was almost tempted to take himself in hand and smooth out the edge while the hot water poured over him. Then he thought about Fallon, who was due home very soon, and decided he had much better ways to satisfy his lust.  He was just wrapping the bath towel around his hips when he heard her moving around in the bedroom. He opened the bathroom door, smiling—until he took a good look at her and his body tensed. Nearly all the color was gone from her face, her soft-pink lipstick seeming like a slash of vivid red in comparison. Her movements as she undressed were jerky, not smooth, as usual. Her body language was that of someone who had been through an emotional wringer.  What worried him most was the lack of eye contact. That was so out of character, at least for the woman he was used to.  “Fallon?” He moved closer. “Did something happen today? Your lunch with Claie? Something happen with the errands?”  She just shook her head and continued removing her clothing like a robot.  What the fuck?  And then out of nowhere, it hit him.  She’d seen him.  The bastard who’d fucked up her life. Fucked up her. Had she run into him or had she deliberately sought him out? Shit, he didn’t know how he’d handle it if it was the latter. It took all his willpower not to smash his fist against the wall.  Pulling himself together, he used his best Dom voice. “Fallon. Look at me. Now!” he snapped when she continued to look down at her feet.  She lifted her face to his, her expression a mixture of regret and disgust, but didn’t meet his gaze.  “You saw him today, right? That asshole you refuse to talk about?”  What the fuck happened out there today? She was doing so well? We were doing so well.
Who is Desiree Holt? Known the world over as The Oldest Living Erotica Author, Desiree Holt has gathered experiences in everything from newspaper work to running her own music and promotions agency. She is three times a finalist for an EPIC E-Book Award, a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award for best BDSM book of the year, winner of the Holt Medallion, multiple winner of the Whipped Cream Book of the Week Award and is published by five different houses. She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today and numerous other national publications.

Sexy Suitors from Space? Got 'em from Paisley Brown! Out now!

Sexy Suitors from Space by Paisley Brown (ISBN: 978-0-9919320-6-1) A vacation to the far North...

Heather is gifted a week away at a resort in the Arctic Circle by her grandmother, a chance to finally move on after finding her fiancé in bed with another woman.

With two Nordic hunks to keep her company...

The two sexy studs make is easy to get over her failed relationship. That is, until they tell her their secret.

Are the two men really extraterrestrials or just a fantasy created by her lonely soul?

Caution: Includes alien probing, anal sex, and a hot MFM ménage.Available From:Amazon US / UK / Canada / AustraliaAll Romance | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks | SmashwordsAdult Excerpt:My breath caught as he moved over me, pinning me to the bed. “You sure don’t make this easy.”

“And neither do you. Just take me already.” How much easier could I get?

“Fuck.” He flopped onto his side and yanked me against him, my back to his chest, his cock resting between the cheeks of my ass. After lifting my leg and settling it over his, he drew a finger along my pussy. “This is all I can give you right now.”

I’d take whatever he was willing to give, hoping his limits changed the longer we spent in bed.

Alek rubbed along my opening and circled my clit. Heat pooled low in my belly, and I gripped the sheets. One way or the other, I planned to have his dick buried deep inside me.

He kissed my neck, grinding against my ass. Close to penetration, but not close enough. In desperation, I slid my hand between my legs and guided his shaft to my pussy.

As if on fire, he jerked away. “Dammit, Heather, why did you do that?”

“Because I want you to fuck me. How much more obvious can I make it?” Was the guy really so clueless?

“I can’t. How I wish I could, but I promised Erich—”

“Promised him what? If it involves me, I deserve to know.”

“You will find out soon enough.” He sat up, letting his gaze travel across the bed, avoiding a glance in my direction. “Until then, you will just have to be satisfied with what I can do.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” Was there a promise of something more?

“This.” He laid me onto my back again and knelt between my spread legs, sinking two fingers deep inside me. Not his cock, but definitely better than nothing. Leaning down, he flicked his tongue against my clit. I drew in a much-needed breath, feeling more alive than I had in a long time. Alek’s thick, talented fingers sent me rushing toward my pending rapture. Waves of anticipation rippled through me. Such erotic torture.
PG-ExcerptSome vacation. Nothing but snow for miles. I might as well have been visiting the North Pole with all the layers of clothing I had on. And, somehow, the cold wind still managed to find the small amount of face I didn’t have covered, stinging the skin around my eyes.“Are we almost there?” I could barely see five feet in front of me, only the mountain of a man directly ahead. If he slowed down for one second, I’d grab his coat with one hand and cover the rest of my face with my free arm. But if I didn’t keep up, I’d get lost in the blizzard. “Seriously, is the place I’m staying anywhere nearby?” Every other hotel I’d stayed at had the check-in desk within the building. Apparently not this one.The man didn’t respond, kept walking, guiding me, hopefully, to the glass igloo where my grandmother held a timeshare.“Get away for a few days, Heather,” she’d said, handing me the plane ticket to Finland and shoving me out the door. “You’ll have a lot of fun and forget about your scum of a cheating fiancé. It’s been a year since you kicked him out. Time to move on. Show off your new curves.”Sure, curves that I’d gained from spending a week eating nothing but ice cream. Not only had I gained ten pounds, but I’d started crying Ben & Jerry’s. It still hadn’t helped my pain. I’d loved Todd and wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Unfortunately, my love hadn’t been returned. But, a trip wouldn’t make me forget what I’d walked in on two days before Christmas.I’d tried to return the tickets. “Snow and cold really aren’t my thing, Grandma.” Give me a tropical beach somewhere with tanned, muscled men, and I’d at least try to get over Todd.Refusing to take them back, she’d only patted my hands. “You’ll be surprised how much fun it is in Lapland. I would go, but I’m getting too old to enjoy the...amenities. It’s your turn now.” She winked and shut the door behind her.And there I was, trekking through the knee-deep snow north of the Arctic Circle, dreading the blanket of white and cold I expected to last my entire vacation.
Bio:I’m happily married with a naughty imagination. Sometimes all it takes is a whispered word or a sexy picture to inspire my next tale. My erotica stories may be contemporary, sci-fi, or paranormal, but all of them will leave you wet and panting for more. I also write science fiction romance as Jessica E. Subject.Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon

Suggested Tags: Sexy Suitors from Space, Paisley Brown, sex, alien sex, alien probing, alien ménage, ménage, ménage a trois, erotica, alien erotica, MFM ménage, vacation, holiday, threesome, science fiction, science fiction erotica, science fiction romance, Finland, glass igloo, Nordic men, sexy men, Lapland, aliens, MFM

IS THAT A GUN IN YOUR POCKET? R U happy to read about a hot Sheriff and the Lady next door? She wants him to come see her sometime!

A Texas love affair between the hottie sheriff and his luscious next door neighbor?
You need this laughter with a dash of suspense! Available for the first time on NOOK, KOBO and iTunes as well as KINDLE and Are!!! Cerise's Cherry, Pop One!What’s a woman to do when she has the hots for the local sheriff—and he’s playing it cool? Mae Montaine knows the man has an ever-ready gun in his pocket and he’s always happy to see her.
So why won’t he come over and see her sometim for a date? A hug? A kiss? More?
West Farraday yearns for the All-American knock-out who lives next door, but Mae’s got problems and secrets. He’d love to help her out of her problems. And her clothes. Then into his bed.
When timing seems right, West makes his move. He’s happier than a colt in clover.
Mae’s skeptical they can make it as a couple. After all, town gossip says the good sheriff is hard on the ladies.
But when three bad coyotes invade Mae’s life, West tries to prove to her that a man who’s hard in the sack can be easy to love.
* * *  
West Farraday is a sheriff who’s hard on the ladies, hard in the sack, hard on the outlaws who dare enter his town.
Mae Montaine is a woman who’s easy on the eyes, tough on men’s egos…especially West’s.
Their Lone Star love affair?
Too hot to handle and too wild to ignore, especially when one bad coyote tears up West’s town and demands Mae pay prices West decides are much too high!
AMAZON:  http://amzn.to/IH34Fo
NOOK: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/is-that-a-gun-in-your-pocket-contemporary-western-romance-with-comedy-spice-and-suspense-by-cerise-de-land-cerise-deland/1119141956?ean=2940149342907
KOBO:  http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/is-that-a-gun-in-your-pocket

Soon at iTunes, too!

Now ready for a nibble?
Copyright, Cerise DeLand 2014
She smiled at West. “I certainly didn’t know why my sister and brother-in-law chose this town to settle down.”“But you do now,” West added in a soothing, come-to-daddy drawl that compelled her to lock her gaze with his warm, sweet one.She grabbed a breath to steady her thoughts and her hope that finally she might have breached this man’s shell of formality. “I do. And I want to stay. Give Emma the life that Kyle and Lou wanted for her.”“You know how extraordinary that is?” he asked.“What? To give a child the normal life she deserves?”“That, yes. But to give it to her like her parents designed it? When you had a life of your own? When you could have taken her back to Newark and raised her there?”She gave a laugh of derision. I owe it to her. I failed her mother when she needed me. I won’t fail Emma. “You haven’t been to Newark lately, have you?”“I’ve flown in and out on my way to Manhattan to take in Broadway shows.”“Wow.” His revelation shocked her from her morbid view of her own shortcomings. Now Mae viewed him through a new kaleidoscope of possibilities. He was more than the local sheriff, the town hunk, the ex-Marine who made all the ladies swoon. He lived in a bigger world than Winton, Texas. Bigger even than the desert sands of the Middle East and the skyscrapers of New York. “The things you don’t know about people.”“Tell me.”His sculpted lips were parted, eager to know more. His eyes were soft with concern, persuading her that he really did want to hear her rationale for coming here and staying here.“Tell me,” he urged her on a murmur.“I did have a life, if you want to call it that. I lived alone. Had a nice condo in a modern high rise. I had a solid job with a national accounting firm on Wall Street and a few promotions that were lucrative, if not fun. I had friends, a few whom I really loved and still do. I went to Broadway shows.” She gave him a nod and he responded with his own, acknowledging their mutual interest. “I did yoga, ran a few 5K races, went to Vegas with the girls now and then for the booze and the slots and the sights.”“No dates?”“A few.”“No men who stayed?”Mae noticed he drew nearer. “Not for long.”“Why?” He was almost whispering as he braced his hands on the counter on either side of her, boxing her in, driving the air from her lungs.“I told them to leave.”“Why?”“They liked my looks. Didn’t bother to learn what was in my brain.”“They bored you?” he asked with a lopsided smile and raised brows.“I want to be valued for more than my measurements.”“Then I’ll invite you to fly to New York with me. Pick a weekend.” He drifted closer, his handsome, chiseled mouth such a warm temptation. “A show.”A room with you? Could I be so lucky? “What’s playing?”“Whatever you choose.” Another fraction of an inch and his lips would be on hers.She swallowed, her fingers itching to wrap around his biceps and draw him against her. “That’s an offer I hate to refuse.”“Then don’t.” He brushed his lips on hers, his eyes falling closed in the dreamiest way.Could he want her that much? For more than one night? His big hands cupped her shoulders and pulled her to him. Heavenly warmth infused her. “We’ll have to take Emma.”“We can hire a sitter from the hotel for the play.”“They’re good? The sitters?” she asked, her own eyes fluttering in the assault of his little kisses, light as the touch of butterflies’ wings to her parted lips.“The sheriff down in DeWitt County told me that he and his wife hired one not too long ago. He told me they’re vetted. Bonded.” His smile was pure male seduction. “Come with me, Mae.”The velvet intonation of his deep bass voice was an invitation to more than a weekend in New York, and she knew it.She grinned broadly, humbled but also tickled by this compliment. In the process, her torso brushed his. “I could say you’re being very forward.”He ran his big, warm hands up her arms to her shoulders and her throat to cup her face. His generous mouth teased her with a lush kiss and she sighed into him. “You could tell me to stop.”“I won’t.” She ran her hands up his chest. “You could tell me to stop.”“Can’t,” he gruffed. “I want this too much.”“You’ve never let me see that you were interested in me until now.”“I wanted to be careful with you. Not show you too much and have you run away.” He hugged her as if he were a big warm bear.She pressed against him, his rock wall body, his raging heat, and then she wound her arms around those incomparable broad shoulders and sank her fingers into his rich, silken hair. Against her mound, she felt his steely cock. “You’ve shown me enough for me to see that this,” she cooed as she undulated against his very impressive package, “is no gun in your pocket.”
Snorting, he chuckled at the ceiling as if he asked heaven above for mercy, then he crushed her against him, chest to breasts, belly to belly and cock to pussy. “Every inch of me is happy to be here.”

Pop #Cerise DeLand's Cherry! YUM. IS THAT A GUN IN YOUR POCKET? 99 cents on Kindle, NOOK, KOBO, soon on iTunes!

Cerise DeLand's Cherry logo
Pop One!So many of you have loved my Cherry logo! Now, I double your pleasure using it as my logo for publishing my spicy romances.

The first will be to celebrate the release in all digital vendors of my funny, well acclaimed IS THAT A GUN IN YOUR POCKET? starring (who else?) Mae and West in a contemporary western comedy, suspense set in Texas!  Yes, this is available on Kindle, Nook, and Kobo, iTunes soon!
(Yes, it is only 99 cents for 29,000 words!)

What's the wrinkle in IS THAT A GUN IN YOUR POCKET? Aside from the funny Mae West angle?

West Farraday, a sheriff who’s hard on the ladies, hard in the sack, hard on the outlaws who dare enter his town...
Mae Montaine, a woman who’s easy on the eyes, tough on men’s egos…especially West’s. Their Lone Star love affair?
Too hot to handle and too wild to ignore, especially when one bad coyote tears up West’s town and demands Mae pay prices West decides are much too high!AMAZON:  http://amzn.to/IH34Fo
NOOK: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/is-that-a-gun-in-your-pocket-contemporary-western-romance-with-comedy-spice-and-suspense-by-cerise-de-land-cerise-deland/1119141956?ean=2940149342907
KOBO:  http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/is-that-a-gun-in-your-pocket


Soon at iTunes, too!

Many thx to readers who make HIS DELECTABLE COOK a best selling #Regency a quatre!

http://amzn.to/12sCU9v YUM YUM! MY DELECTABLE Joy to thank all of you who love this multiple partner romance, Regency style!
My Regency with a scrumptious cook, her spicy hot “lord” and a dash of mystery!When Bess Deveraux secures a position as cook in the household of the delectable devil who taught her the joy of loving years ago, she shows him that she has more to offer him now that she is older, wiser, and oh so eager to please all the men in his employ.http://amzn.to/12sCU9v   
Bess Deveraux learned the joy of loving years ago at the hands of a masterful man. But her family forbid her his notorious company. Now, at the opportunity to not only find that man again but also work for him, Bess secures a position in his household.
Lord Taryn Wentworth has no idea where this delightful woman has been or how she managed to stand before him as his cook, but he is determined to enjoy her, her delectable offerings—and to offer them to his male staff as well.
Taryn knows his lovely cook will agree to revel in every delight he has in store for her. After all, pretty Bess is an expert not merely in the fine art of satisfying human appetites, but in the refined art of pleasing many men at once, offering up her succulent body—in the dining room, on the kitchen table, on the floor and anywhere else her fancy or her master’s lead her.
A nibble of this?You do need the sustenance, don’t you?Copyright, Cerise DeLand 2013.
     “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.”

BEYOND ADDICTION by Desiree Holt is BEYOND FABULOUS!

The answer to 50 Shades of Grey?
BEYOND ADDICTION by my buddy Desiree Holt.
THIS IS THE REAL story you yearned for and missed in 50 Shades of...whatever.
Sequel to Dangerous Addiction, from Something Wicked This Way Comes, Volume 1   When Fallon Crowe discovered her submissive side, she indulged it fully, reveling in her erotic nature—until she stepped into the brutally possessive world of Brian Willoughby. More than a year after she was literally dragged away from his abusive clutches,    Fallon is finally building a new life with Cord Jamieson, a Dom who reminds her that punishment can be loving, pain an aphrodisiac.   But when Fallon unexpectedly runs into Brian, he reawakens an addiction that never quite died. Now she’s torn between the caring relationship she’s established with Cord, and Brian’s darkly mesmerizing lifestyle that goes beyond safe, sane and consensual.   The choice is Fallon’s—the wrong one might destroy her completely.
Inside Scoop: This story features an abusive scene from a power-hungry man who’s perverted the lifestyle for his own sick pleasure. It may be too intense for some readers. A Romantica® BDSM erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Your nibble:
Copyright 2014, Desiree Holt
  Cord hung his Stetson on a peg in the back hall and toed off his boots. They were covered in mud and various other substances and badly needed cleaning, but at the moment he was just too tired. He and the hands had spent most of the day riding fence line and making sure every pasture was secure before his new shipment of cattle arrived. They’d been a steal at an auction and he couldn’t resist. The bank had extended a substantial line of credit and that was the perfect reason to tap into it.  Everything was coming together much better than he could have hoped. The herd was finally at the size it needed to be and in the spring there would be new calves. The pastures of coastal hay were in good shape. And the work on the event center was nearly finished. Next week, he’d work with the hands who’d be leading trail rides and giving lessons and offering other guest activities, and oversee the finishing touches to the stables.  AT least he could relax where the party was concerned. Fallon was working her magic with an ease that he admired. He smiled as he thought about how much pleasure she brought to all areas of his life. After the party, after the post-event details were seen to, he planned to take her away for a long weekend where he could tie her to the bed and pleasure both of them in as many ways as he could dream up.Just the thought of that was enough to make his cock harden and strain against the fly of his jeans.  In the bedroom, he stripped off his clothes and dumped them in the hamper, then stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He was so aroused he was almost tempted to take himself in hand and smooth out the edge while the hot water poured over him. Then he thought about Fallon, who was due home very soon, and decided he had much better ways to satisfy his lust.  He was just wrapping the bath towel around his hips when he heard her moving around in the bedroom. He opened the bathroom door, smiling—until he took a good look at her and his body tensed. Nearly all the color was gone from her face, her soft-pink lipstick seeming like a slash of vivid red in comparison. Her movements as she undressed were jerky, not smooth, as usual. Her body language was that of someone who had been through an emotional wringer.  What worried him most was the lack of eye contact. That was so out of character, at least for the woman he was used to.  “Fallon?” He moved closer. “Did something happen today? Your lunch with Claie? Something happen with the errands?”  She just shook her head and continued removing her clothing like a robot.  What the fuck?  And then out of nowhere, it hit him.  She’d seen him.  The bastard who’d fucked up her life. Fucked up her. Had she run into him or had she deliberately sought him out? Shit, he didn’t know how he’d handle it if it was the latter. It took all his willpower not to smash his fist against the wall.  Pulling himself together, he used his best Dom voice. “Fallon. Look at me. Now!” he snapped when she continued to look down at her feet.  She lifted her face to his, her expression a mixture of regret and disgust, but didn’t meet his gaze.  “You saw him today, right? That asshole you refuse to talk about?”  What the fuck happened out there today? She was doing so well? We were doing so well.
Who is Desiree Holt? Known the world over as The Oldest Living Erotica Author, Desiree Holt has gathered experiences in everything from newspaper work to running her own music and promotions agency. She is three times a finalist for an EPIC E-Book Award, a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award for best BDSM book of the year, winner of the Holt Medallion, multiple winner of the Whipped Cream Book of the Week Award and is published by five different houses. She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today and numerous other national publications.

THE STANHOPE CHALLENGE quartet ~ Top 10 list of #bestselling #erotica #Regencies on 3 different lists for over 8 months! Out soon in BOX SET!

THE STANHOPE CHALLENGE quartet on Top 10 bestseller lists for more than 8 months!Need nibbles of my Stanhope men in action?Of course you do!Here is LORD STANHOPE's IMPROPER PROPOSAL!The Stanhope Challenge, Book 1Lord Adam Stanhope faces the Stanhope Challenge of wanting to marry…and knowing it will be loveless and tormenting. But he takes one look at his childhood friend, now a lovely widow, and proposes a marriage in name only. But when he learns that his bride is determined to be his lover as well as his wife, he faces a bigger challenge: Accept her delicious offer to delight them both in bed or spend his life in a greater torment…alone.
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And the taste?

Excerpt Copyright 2014, Cerise DeLand, All rights reserved.
London, January 1809It is a truth, universally accepted, that a politician in want of the premiership must also be in want of a wife.Felice knew that was her new husband’s justification for marrying her so quickly.“A reason as good as my own,” she told herself as she combed her hair back from her face and fluffed the ruffled bodice of her wedding dress. She pursed her lips, wondering how Adam really kissed a woman. How he kissed his mistresses. He had merely brushed her own mouth with his after the ceremony minutes ago. She’d always thought her lips worth more than a peck—and she was determined that this second husband of hers would do more than ignore her.“I’ll insure that he does,” she resolved, with a check of her figure in the cheval mirror in the retiring room of her new brother-in-law’s mansion on Grosvenor Square. “After all, the fictitious Miss Proper has charms that Adam does not know about.” Nor should he!That secret could ruin her marriage. “And I intend to keep both!”So go to your wedding breakfast and be done with this mooning! You accepted his proposal! Now reap the rewards! London Society is open to you—the excitement of their lives, their intrigues ready fodder for your pen. For your romances and your poems.She frowned at herself.Be honest, Fee. You want more than inspiration for your stories. More than a means to repay that nefarious man your first husband’s debt. You want Adam Stanhope gracing your own bed, not just his look alike walking on the pages of your newest romance. You want him inside your body. Making you wet and warm. And kissing your—A quick knock at the door had her whirling.“Dear Felice,” cooed her husband’s Great Aunt Amaryllis from behind the portal. “Do come out now. We are quite eager to applaud you and Adam. The guests, too, are clamoring for the receiving line!”Most likely, the men want more wine while they make wagers on how soon Adam will bed me. And the women? They want to assess how a country mouse like me managed to snare the renowned, rich and eloquent Adam Stanhope. Third son of the earl. Widower. Father. Some day soon, the head of his party, if the papers and broadsheets are to be believed. And thereafter certainly, Prime Minister.“Adam Stanhope,” she murmured to herself. “A great catch, Fee. If you can intrigue him.”And there was the rub.Adam, now thirty, was notorious for outlandish behavior. When he’d turned seventeen, he’d run away from home and sailed to Hong Kong to work with his cousin in his Far Eastern trading company. Four years later, he’d come home to finish his education at Cambridge, marry the beauty of the Season and run for Parliament. He’d won twice now. But since his wife had died in childbirth, Adam had made a name for himself as a rake. He was just like his brothers in that regard. Still, he was the only one who had married and challenged the Stanhope family curse. For it was a legend that no matter whom a Stanhope married, no matter that person’s quality of character or breeding or good intentions, once wedded, a Stanhope lived in hell.“I will be happy.” Felice repeated the phrase that had become her motto ever since Adam had appeared in Kent last month and proposed. “I’ll dispense with this hideous man plaguing me at once. Then I will devote myself to ensuring Adam is happy. I will be a social asset to him. And a good mother to his son.”What more could a man ask for?* * * *“A politician has to have a wife! Who the devil put that ridiculous rule about, Reggie?” Adam Stanhope asked his friend as he paced in his brother Jack’s drawing room at eleven in the morning. He threw back another shot of Jack’s fine brandy and coughed. “Oh, lord, that burns all the way down. Whose idea was it to stay out all night, eh?” He scrubbed his hand over his face, acknowledging his predicament had less to do with excess alcohol than with Fee Wentworth. Correction, Stanhope. “Dammit, you’d think a respectable widower with an heir earned the right to be free!”“No help for it, old man,” Reggie responded and drained his glass of spirits. “Damn good stuff, if I say so myself! But see here, Adam, you admitted you need her. We’ve been through this entire argument before. You’ve got a bit of a reputation, courtesy of that Miss Proper ramblings and—”The far door burst open. Adam’s oldest brother, Jack, appeared in all his dark imperious hauteur. He took one look at both men and slipped inside to shut the world out. “Now, Adam. Reggie. What the hell are you doing in here drinking?”Adam cocked a long black brow at the man who expected to be obeyed in all things. “Drowning my sorrows.”“Too late for that!” Jack’s mouth twitched in a grin. “Get the hell out here and let’s toast the good health of the bride and groom.”“Come, come, Jack, you know what this means for me.”Jack’s black brows arched high. “Oh, I do. One look at your bride and I have a very good idea that—”Adam scowled at his brother. “She’s lovely.” Damned gorgeous, in fact. And mine, god help me now. “But I have ruined her.”Jack startled. “You’ve had her? Already?”“No, no. That’s not what I mean.”Jack strode over to remove the snifter glass from Adam’s fingertips. “I know what you mean. And this does not help.”“I’ve known her since she was ten, Jack!” Adam thrust out a hand, roiled by what he had just done to this sweet, shy woman.“And? She was a charming child then. Now you have—““Wrecked her life! That’s what I’ve done!”Jack narrowed his eyes on his brother. “How late did you stay at White’s last night?”When Adam said “Ba!” and shook his head, Jack peered at Reggie. “How late?”The man winced and brushed imaginary crumbs from his cravat. “Five. Six. Not certain. We were winning at dice, you see, and couldn’t leave.”Jack stared at the ceiling. “I hope to god it was profitable.”Adam grinned. “Five thousand in my pockets I hadn’t had before!”The far door opened again. An auburn-haired man stuck his head in and grimaced. “What the hell is the delay here?”Jack beckoned him. “Wes, Adam is having a rather belated moment of introspection. Do come in and help me talk sense into our youngest brother.”Wes took a step inside and shut the door behind him. In his cavalryman’s dress blues, he leaned back against the door. “What’s the matter, Adam? Nerves?”Adam rolled his shoulders. “Every man’s entitled. You told me so yourself.”“That,” Wes chuckled as he limped over to the chair beside Adam and fell into it, “is before a man goes into battle!”“Well, I am!”Wes gave him the quelling glance his men termed The Demand. “You are married.”“I know I thought it a good idea. Despite the nightmare I lived through with Sarah.” The mere mention of his first wife sent a wave of revulsion through him. “Everyone thought it a good idea. My colleagues. The Prime Minister. But you both, most of all, know this won’t work.”Wes pursed his lips. “I’ve seen your new lady wife, and I say give it a go. If you admit defeat before you start, you’re doomed.”“This is not a cavalry charge,” Adam murmured.Wes shrugged. “Perhaps it should be.”“Wes, have a little pity,” Adam pleaded, his head splitting from too much whiskey and too little sleep.“No pity for you,” Wes shot back. “Felice lives up to her name in temperament as far as I can tell. And her figure, Adam, has certainly become more alluring than when I last saw her in Great Aunt Amaryllis’ garden.”“She was ten!”“Was she, now? Hmm. No wonder she was flat-chested.”“Now see here,” Adam admonished his older brother. “Her figure is—”“Superb and yours to explore.” Wes wiggled his brows suggestively, then looked at Jack. “We met her when we first summered at Aunt’s house. What year was it Father foisted us off on the poor old gel?”Adam groaned. “It doesn’t matter!”I liked her then. Enjoyed her wit and intelligence every time we met. Now I’ve gone and hurt her irrevocably.Jack shook his head. “Don’t argue with him, Wes. He’s got a snoot full from an all-night gambling rout at White’s. It only encourages him to debate you. And neither of us can ever outtalk him.” He gave his brother, the Colonel and Man of Action, a wide-eyed look of despair. “The curse is upon him.”“Oh, hell,” Wes mourned. “Not that again.”Adam frowned at both of his brothers. “That again? I don’t seem to recall that either of you is yet married. Why not?”“Not our time,” Jack told him.“No woman I like enough,” Wes added. “You, Jack?”“None I cannot live without,” Jack said with pointed disdain for the subject. “Come on, Adam, let’s do our drinking out there with all the others.”“They all wonder, you know,” Adam offered, his gaze on the door.“What?” Reggie asked when the two Stanhope brothers didn’t respond to him.All three Stanhopes considered Reggie Mortenson with bleak expressions.Adam answered for them all. “They wonder when Felice will leave me. As we speak, they are out there taking wagers on the number of months she remains.”“The Stanhope women don’t all leave,” Jack reminded Adam.The three brothers winced and looked at anything but each other. Adam knew each man thought of his own mother and how each had died in succession. And even though Jack’s mother passed away after a riding accident, Wes’s died of consumption and Adam’s of childbed fever, the ton declared each woman had suffered first and foremost from a broken heart.“He says he loved each one,” Jack reminded them of the phrase their father repeated to them often.Adam shut his eyes. “He declares he loved Clarice’s mother, too!” Their charming half-sister Clarice had been Stanhope’s by-blow, conveniently born between Jack and Wes.“Aye,” Wes acknowledged with a smirk. “In his prime, the man was a walking satyr.”Jack inclined his head toward Wes. “Astonishing, isn’t it, that he managed his estates as well as he did, hopping from bed to bed like a right royal degenerate.” He flourished a hand. “Yet, he cared for each woman he bedded.”Adam growled. “How can you believe him?” He had never known their father to be honest with anyone, least of all his three legitimate sons. “You were four,” Adam reminded Jack, then faced Wes. “And you were two when I was born and my mother took a childbed fever. How can you know that he tells the truth?”Jack rolled a shoulder. “Perhaps on this one issue…”Adam shook his head, hands fisted on his hips. “I long to see the day each of you faces a woman whom you do not wish to kill with the family curse.” He straightened his cravat and ran two hands through his hair. “Open the damn door, Wesley, I’m ready to claim my bride and ruin both our lives.”