Cerise DeLand's Blog, page 44

#5 in Sabrina York's Scorching TRYST ISLAND series, out at 99 cents! DO IT!

The Fifth Book in Sabrina York’s Scorching Tryst Island Series Releases!Fans of the Tryst Island Books have been eagerly awaiting the next installment. Not only is it here, it is premiering at a special introductory price as a thank you to loyal readers.  The scorching follow up to bestselling Rebound, Dragonfly Kisses, Smoking Holt andHeart of Ash, Devlin’s Dare will release at a special price of 99¢for two weeks, before going to its regular price of $2.99 on February 15th.
If you’re new to the series, check out the Tryst Island Trailer: http://youtu.be/uJ1rhyeLkAMor 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.Tryst Island Series—Available on AmazonDEVLIN’S DARE—Book 5 in the Tryst Island Series
A No-Strings Fling Becomes Something For Which He Will Risk AllDevlin Fox has always been a player. A horny bee flitting from flower to flower. He has no idea why the sexy minx he meets on the way to Tryst Island affects him the way she does. Arousal—for her—hits him like a fist to the gut and he can’t stop thinking about her. But Tara Romano doesn’t “do” commitments. For good reason. When she proposes they be “friends with benefits,” Devlin can’t figure out why the idea annoys him so much. It should be the perfect scenario. A gorgeous, alluring woman who only wants him for his body… He wants, needs, more from Tara, so he hits upon a plan to turn their no-strings-fling into something lasting. A series of tantalizing dares—dares Tara cannot resist. Now Available on Amazon
Excerpt from Devlin’s DareBook 5 in the Tryst Island Series
By 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.
“That’s Devlin Fox?” She glared across the restaurant. It wasn’t bad enough that the gorgeous guy she ran into on the ferry turned out to be friends with the douche in the ascot she’d been running from. No.He had to be her worst enemy too.Damn. Damn damn damn.“You know him?” Bella asked.“He writes a Foodie Blog.” Tara glowered around the table, trying hard not to snarl. Or pout. “He gave Stud Muffin a bad review.”“What?” Cam squawked.Jamie shook her head. “Why did he do that?”Tara crossed her arms over her chest. She’d spent her life learning her craft. Spent her life savings opening her own bakery. Spent years building clientele. Then, with one crappy review, business had tanked. Totally into the toilet. In one fell swoop, many of her regulars had stopped coming in.She wasn’t sure she’d be able to make the bills this month, which was devastating.And all because of him.It was unfair for one man to have so much power. And why had he panned her bakery? “Because I don’t have gluten-free.” She muttered, then added, under her breath, “Big baby.”Still, gluten-free was a huge deal in Seattle. She’d spent the past week working up recipes. And fantasizing about wreaking vengeance on a certain blogger.It had been a mere fantasy, until now. But now… Kaitlin shifted closer, drawing Tara’s attention. “What are you thinking?” she asked in a whisper, her features tight.Tara froze. It didn’t do to thinkaround Kaitlin. Not that the elfin redhead read minds, or at least that’s what she claimed. But she seemed to knowthings.“Nothing.” Tara made it a point to bat her lashes.Kaitlin’s nose rumpled, as though she smelled something nasty. Like a lie.But hell. Tara couldn’t tell Kaitlin what she was really thinking because Kaitlin—the sweet, innocent soul that she was—would try to talk her out of it. Ramble on about Karma and shit.No, Tara couldn’t tell anyone what she was really thinking about.Because she was plotting revenge. She was going to get Devlin Fox back. And she was going to get him good.* * * * *“Hi there.” Devlin turned on the barstool, his trademark smile firmly in place. Everything within him froze. It was her. That little slice of heaven from the ferry. Damn. She was as hot as he remembered.She sidled up next to him and the chatter of the bar receded. Fascination—and something else—rose.“Well hello there.”He liked her scent, something floral and light. He liked her heat as she pressed against his side. She lowered her long lush lashes and peeped up at him through the fringe. Damn, that was sexy. She licked her lips. That was sexy too. “I never got to thank you,” she purred.“Th-Thank me?” Was that her hand? On his thigh?Shit yeah.“For saving me.” Her fingers flexed. “I would have tumbled to my death if you hadn’t grabbed me.”“I doubt you would have tumbled to your death. Disfigurement, perhaps. Dire injury. But not death. Don’t exaggerate.”She laughed, a low chortle. “Well… Thank you.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Can I buy you a drink?”Devlin blinked. He’d been hit on in bars before, but no woman had ever offered to buy him a drink.She might just be a perfect woman. “Sure.”“What’s your poison?”“Whiskey sour.”She signaled to the bartender.“So…I’m Devlin.”“Devlin.” She cooed. Actually cooed. “And you are…?”“Interested.”He jumped a little as her hand skated up his thigh. His pulse skipped. “I…ah…yes. But what can I call you?” He had a pretty good idea where this was headed, and he wanted to know what to cry out as he sank into her steamy depths. It was only polite to know a woman’s name at a moment like that.She pursed her lips, as though she were thinking it over. Or thinking about something else. Her thumb snaked up. Nudged his balls, ever so lightly, and through thick denim, but he felt it like an electrical charge. “Call me Sugar.”“Sugar.” Oh yeah. She was sweet. “Would you…like to go for a walk?”“A walk?” His cock lurched. All thoughts of that drink faded.“It’s a beautiful night…”She looked over her shoulder and then threaded her fingers in his, leading him toward the back of the bar. He didn’t know why they weren’t heading for the front door, but didn’t much care.She was a beautiful woman. She wanted him. And he was just drunk enough to follow her anywhere she led.He shot a glance at Parker who sent him a thumbs up.They barely made it out the back door of the bar before she kissed him. Damn. Backed him up against the wall, raked her fingers through his hair, pulled his head down and took his mouth.And damn, she was a good kisser. She ate him with heat and passion and carnivorous zeal. He responded in kind, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. He nearly passed out when she sucked on it, nibbled it, toyed with it. He couldn’t help imagining her doing the same to his cock.Her palm roved over his chest and made its way down to his hips. He didn’t dare move as she slowly teased the band of his jeans. She pulled back and held his gaze as she popped the snap.“Mmm,” she murmured, reaching in. His eyes crossed as she molded his length. Squeezed. “Such a big boy.” She licked her lips and his brain short-circuited. When she went to her knees before him and blew a hot breath on him through the cotton of his briefs, he nearly lost consciousness. “I want to taste you,” she said. “Take off your pants.”Holy God. Yes.In a frenzy, he kicked off his shoes, and ripped off his jeans, hopping from one foot to the other. He held still, frozen in place, as she hooked her thumbs in his briefs and eased them down revealing his eager cock. She dragged his underwear down until they pooled at his ankles.He heard the catch in her moan. Felt the trace of a warm finger around his swollen head and down to the base. He shuddered.“Ah. Yes,” she said, coming close. Her heat caressed him. His knees knocked. She fisted him. Pumped. Once. Twice. Blood pounded at his temples. Thrummed in his cock. She bent closer. Her damp breath kissed the head. “Such a big dick,” she said.If he’d been in his right mind, her tone would have warned him, but he wasn’t in his right mind. He was a little drunk and a lot horny and there was a gorgeous woman on her knees before him with his cock in her fist. Her mouth hovered over the tip.Yes. Yes. Just a little more…She released him and stood up in a rush. Her beautiful, seductive expression morphed into something bitter. He gaped at her, stunned.“Yeah,” she said, propping her fists on her hips. “You, Devlin Fox, are a big dick.”And then she left. Whirled on her heel and left him standing there, half-naked, leaning against the grimy brick wall behind a grungy bar.And she took his jeans.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 Facebook or 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 PROMOS
Free Teaser Book: http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/Newsletter & contest: http://sabrinayork.com/sabrinas-contest-and-newsletter/Enter to win a signed print copy of scorching Regency romance, Dark Fancy on Goodreads! https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1...

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 YorkAdam’s Obsession (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Dark Duke (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave) —Coming soonBrigand (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave) —Coming soonDark 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) —Coming November 6thMan 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)

"Obvious talent and cleverness of DeLand's writing and plotting…" makes her SENSE AND SENSIBILITY a great read!

BUYJeep Diva Reviews had a few heartrendingly wonderful words for my erotic adaptation of Jane Austen's SENSE AND SENSIBILITY.

Oh, be still my foolish heart!

I am so tickled that I did a screen shot and put it here for you. But do please go to Jeep Diva's site as well and enjoy her golden words, not simply for me but about others' works as well. http://www.thejeepdiva.com/ /#comment-16724

Dracula, villain as hero? NBC's new version rocks my world! Yours?

    Dracula, that arch villain, has become a romance hero. While I am no regular reader of paranormal romances, nor even its cousins sci-fi or fantasy, I get a kick out of this Friday night version of the Bram Stoker's infamous villain.
    http://www.nbc.com/dracula/    Always intrigued by the historical figure, the famous leader who held back the hordes of infidels from his domain by pitting them on spikes, I have read the original and a few fictional interpretations of that event. But this version strikes me for its ingenuity—and its wide appeal to many of those whom I "visit" with on Facebook and Twitter.    I ardently appreciate this version of Dracula and thought I would tell you why. (Perhaps you agree!)    I think Jonathan Rhys Meyers and the writers have done a smashingly good job of giving Dracula a pair of motivations that make the audience cheer for him. Aside from the fact that Meyers played that other ruthless "hero" Henry VIII of England recently, he can appear dangerously seductive. Always a good trait for a romance hero!
    Believable as a man out for revenge, this Dracula also has a soft spot for the (seeming) reincarnation of his beloved wife. Hence, we have the merging of Dracula's goal to destroy those who destroyed and turned him into the creature he is with the new goal to be united with his wife/modern-day Mina.  http://www.nbc.com/dracula/    True, it is no small feat for a blood-sucking vampire to find true love or everlasting happiness with that lover. But women who read (and write) romance, whether or not they are like me and avoid paranormal sub-genre, will recognize the signs that there may be a resolution to this impossible love affair.    Jonathan Harker has been transformed here as well. A nice guy, he seemed a suitable match, if a rather boring one for Our Heroine, Mina. Yet, the writers have taken his character and shown him to be opportunistic and easily confused. Never good material for the characterization of The Guy Who Gets The Girl in the End. Now we even see him falling in with The Villains of the piece. His motives may seem "normal" yet we really don't care for him. Our affections are firmly with Our Hero Dracula…and we see that Our Heroine Mina is enthralled by him as well.     The bigger questions are two.  First is will her affection last? If we are to take the last bedroom scene in the season finale to be a true indicator of her desires and her love, then we can say yes. After all, heroines do not go to bed with just any old dude. And this Mina tends to be a clear thinker, seeing Jonathan Harker for what he is and is not, even if she is scurrying to learn precisely what Alexander Grayson/Dracula truly is.    The second big question is of course, can we have a happily ever after for these two lovers. I see possibilities for that answer to be yes. Mina, in her present form, is a scientist, God bless her. And her goal, as she stated it in an early episode, is "to cure death."  If she can, viola! We have Nirvana!    Or rather poor Dracula does…and hence, so does she.    Marvelous resolution to a seemingly impossible problem. This is the stuff of good romance—and the folks at NBC's new version have done a darn good job of making it delicious.

Stripper with Spice by Afton Locke! Oh, yum!

Buy eBook:  http://www.ellorascave.com/stripper-with-spice.htmlThank you for hosting me today. I’m excited to talk about the spice TARRAGON, and my latest release, Stripper With Spice, a contemporary erotic romance.
Ten-Gallon Tarragon
I confess, I’m not aware of ever having eaten tarragon. Apparently, it’s good in soups and sauces. I love the way the word sounds, though. I was surprised to learn this spice is related to the American sagebrush, which makes me think of the Wild West. I haven’t yet written any erotic cowboy stories. With so many authors doing a fantastic job at that, I’m not sure I could compete.
But the West has lived within me since I was 12. For some reason, I became fascinated with it then, reading every book on the subject I could find and plastering my wall with drawings of canyons and cacti. I even bought cowboy boots and a hat. Back then, I’d never set foot out there. When I grew up and got a job, Arizona was my first destination. By now, I’ve been to nearly every western state. I especially enjoyed revisiting Texas for a writer’s conference last year. My eyes about popped out of my head from all the male, western eye candy strutting around in boots. A few years before that, a couple of drop-dead gorgeous dudes in cowboy hats at the Montana airport turned me into a babbling, lust-crazed idiot.
While I’ve never dated anyone from the West, I had a country boyfriend once that was the next best thing. He was tall and looked mighty fine in jeans and a western shirt. He even talked with a slow, country drawl. Best of all were his cowboy boots. He ambled around them so naturally, as if he’d just gotten off a horse. I love the decisive, manly sounds those wooden heels make on the floor. My husband has boots too, and we used to do country western dancing when it was popular. After several attempts to teach me the two step, though, I think he gave up. Unfortunately, the boots have grown dusty as life and work schedules intrude.
Even though my story has an eastern setting, I couldn’t help letting a little western flavor intrude. Carlos’s stage name is Cool Hand Carlos, and he dresses in a sexy cowboy outfit while he does his slow, sultry dance routine. Although Janice has a hard time handling his stripping career, she’s just as entranced by his western stage persona as everyone else. Male performers work magic and each is as unique as a particular spice. Stripper With Spice
Publisher:  Ellora's Cave PublishingRelease Date:  10 January 2014eBook ISBN #:  978-14199-49050Buy eBook:  http://www.ellorascave.com/stripper-with-spice.htmlStay tuned for reviews and more: http://www.aftonlocke.com/spice.html
Watch the Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/cYIzIyett4Y
Blurb Getting back on her feet after unemployment, Janice treats herself to an erotic-romance convention. After winning a two-hour fantasy date with Carlos Aguilar, a young stripper, she decides to have a one-time fantasy fling.
When Carlos entices her back to the bedroom—and a few public places—for more sizzling sex, he unleashes her passions, including a secret desire to be a chef. Janice learns there’s more to this heartthrob than a hot body, but job security comes first.
To convince her he’s more than a fantasy, Carlos teaches her trust with his body. But when that trust is finally tested to the limit, she’ll be torn between clinging to safety and taking a chance on a whole new life.
Excerpt (explicit) Stripper With Spice - Copyright © AFTON LOCKE, 2014 - All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
I chose you.
He looks and sounds so serious and honest, how can I not be completely convinced? His words echo inside my head as he grips both sides of my face and lowers his mouth to mine in slow motion. The thrill bubbles return to my bloodstream as if the elevator cable has just snapped, dropping us to the basement.
Unlike last night’s, this kiss is slow and full of promise. He samples my mouth as if we have all the time in the world. A flash of mint-flavored tongue pierces my soul, tearing a moan from my throat. With one hand still on the button, I raise my other to his shoulder. Feeling the bare, hot skin there fuels my desire, pushing me dangerously close to the edge of self-control.
“Do you want this as much as I do, Janice?”
God, yes. I need more…all of you.
I reply by sliding my hand across the tiger-striped fabric over his back. The warm satin, with muscles moving under it, is just as sexy as bare skin. His hips dance against mine—rubbing, thrusting and teasing. My fingers move to the worn waistband of his jeans at his side, wanting to pull them off. My body throbs, needing him as I’ve never needed anything before.
When he pulls my finger off the close-door button, the door opens to reveal an annoyed looking family of five waiting to get on. The parents, obviously noticing Carlos’ wild vest and our heavy breathing, exchange a disgusted look.Carlos takes my hand and leads me off the elevator. My heart races as we walk down the corridor. Luckily, the carpet absorbs the trembling in my legs so it doesn’t make a sound.
He stops at one of the doors. I fixate on the way he slides his keycard from his back pocket and inserts it into the door reader. It’s something I’ve done myself a million times without thinking, but this is different. This is foreplay.
The door responds with a little click and a flashing green light. I guess we just got the green light for wild, hot sex. My heart accelerates even more. If it goes any faster, he’ll have to call a paramedic. I can read the headline now.Boring financial analyst dies from anticipating sex with a hot cover model.
I check my watch. Fifteen minutes have passed.
“We still have plenty of time.” He ushers me inside and closes the door behind me.
The room is completely dark because the drapes are drawn. It’s as if we’ve entered a private cave, hidden from the world. This is it, I think as Carlos flips on a dim lamp. We’re really going to do this. We’re going to have sex.
“Come in and make yourself comfortable,” he says.
I stay where I am but gaze around the room, noticing with approval how neat he is. His clothes hang in the closet and his toiletries are laid out on one corner of the sink. The smoky-brown bottle probably contains the mysterious mesquite scent. I wish he were a slob so I could tell myself it would never work between us.
It doesn’t take long for my attention to stumble across the centerpiece of the room, the large bed. Is it another stage? Is the perfectly pressed red cover the curtain? Unlike the platforms we shared for the photo shoot and lap dance, this one is completely private.
What if he doesn’t like my performance?
Coming Soon
Rock My Boat
Workaholic CEO Rhonda Simms embarks on a Caribbean cruise to create an ad campaign for a big maritime freight client. She finds it impossible to concentrate, however, when Simon Mann, a blue marlin shifter, sets his sights on her. From a private, hands-on safety briefing to a wild ride in the ocean, he rocks her ordered world.
Simon drowned years ago in a shipwreck caused by Rhonda’s client, and he’ll do anything to be a normal man again. As his mate, Rhonda is the only person who can help him.
Tired of being so responsible, Rhonda is ready to let loose with a shipboard fling. Mating with Simon could cost a lot more than her virginity, however. Will she stick to her present course or will she let this sexy alpha rock her boat?
This story will be part of the Tall, Dark & Alpha boxed set, which will release 10 March 2014.https://www.facebook.com/TallDarkandAlpha

Where readers can find me
Web site: http://www.aftonlocke.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AftonLockeAuthorhttps://www.facebook.com/afton.locke
Twitter: http://twitter.com/aftonlocke
Newsletter - The Love Chronicle: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/thelovechronicle/
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/Afton_Locke
Contest
This post is part of the Stripper With Spice Blog Tour.                   The grand prize for the tour is the winner's choice of a wall-mountable black scroll spice rack or The Spice Lover's Guide to Herbs and Spices book (U.S. shipping address only).To be eligible, COMMENT on this post. The comment MUST relate to the spice I’m posting about in at least ONE of these ways: 1) How you cook with it or use it in food OR 2) How you use it as a natural remedy OR 3) How it reminds you of a particular man or intimate encounter

The tour winner will be announced at http://www.aftonlocke.com/SpiceTour.html on January 18th.

Spicy erotica, thrilling suspense, Barcelona with my pix for UNTIL NOON #4 in series by me and Desiree Holt!

BUY LINKS:EC   http://www.ellorascave.com/until-noon.html
Amazon  http://amzn.to/1a0QHFP Desiree Holt and I have had such fun with European set thrillers for our erotic suspense series, NEMESIS.

This time out in UNTIL NOON, we start with a murder and an investigator called to the scene high on a hill top in Montserrat, northwest of beautiful Barcelona.  (Ever been there?)

Oh. You must.

I do describe the monastery atop this extraordinary mountain range in western Catalonia. But nothing is so breath-taking as going there.  And if you can't go soon, why not read about the sights, sounds, delectable foods and museums in our 4th novel in this series?

Nemesis centers around a security company executives, all women, who run investigations and protection services for people all around the world.

In this one, Raul Cordona arrives at a murder scene near the famous Benedictine monastery of Montserrat. He's received a call from Nemesis's home office to look into the suspicious death of a friend of theirs.

When Raul arrives, he meets one of his best friends who happens to be the homicide detective on the case…but Raul also spies a woman he knew intimately for hours two years ago. Sadly, he never knew her name though indeed he knew every marvelous curve of her body. Raul must learn not only why she is at the crime scene but also what happened to the murdered man.

The two challenges combine into a fast paced tale of UNTIL NOON.
Need a nibble??? OF course you do!
Copyright 2014, Cerise DeLand and Desiree Holt. All rights reserved.  
(By the way, these are all my own photos in this blog!)Interior done in gold leaf of Monastery Church at Montserrat

Montserrat, Spain   Raul Cordona eased up on the gas pedal of his rental to climb the winding road to the monastery near the summit of the mountain. He had visited this famous site as a boy twice, once with his class and the last time with his mother. Remembering how she’d gasped in delight when she’d entered the sanctuary, he smiled. He loved the interior of the church, gilded with gold leaf that blinded the eyes. Inside, he always felt at peace.   Today he would feel none. True, Raul had been surprised by the phone call from his boss Adam Malloy in Texas, asking him to end his vacation and seek clues to the death of one of his friends. Adam was like all the other principals in the security firm of Nemesis—they respected their employees’ downtime and Raul had just helped finish a case with two other associates. He deserved a break. But he understood Adam’s concern.   Adam had told him the regional Catalan police, the Mossos d'Esquadra, had been called to the scene.    They suspected his friend’s death on this jagged mountainside might not have been an accident. Raul was not only within driving distance of the monastery just outside of Barcelona but was also an expert in homicide detection. As a former detective for Houston PD, Raul had seen scores of murders, analyzed them and occasionally unraveled others’ plans for it. He’d even stopped one Mexican drug cartel henchman from killing his own jefe.  Exterior of Church at Montserrat He pulled his SUV into the parking lot, killed the engine and allowed himself a second to appreciate the stark beauty of the serrated mountains that spilled thousands of feet down to the rolling plain leading to the coast and Barcelona. Buttoning up his jacket, he noted one car surrounded by police tape. The victim’s perhaps? One SmartCar stood in the last space to the right. The only other vehicles were four police cars and an ambulance parked at odd angles. Scanning the ridge of the mountain, he saw a few people in police uniforms and got out of his car.   A brisk wind blew, chilling him to the bone. He hurried up the sidewalk, past the candy factory, the souvenir shop and the church. No tourists wandered about, most likely sent home by the police. At the end of the walkway, a policewoman stopped him to ask for credentials. Summit of Montserrat with funicular building in foreground   He dug from his wallet his employee card for Nemesis but told her that her boss, Homicide Detective Enrique Petron, had put his name on the list of those to be admitted to the cordoned-off area. She didn’t bother to check any paperwork, just waved him toward a rock-strewn path.   He hurried on. Atop one ridge uniformed men stood in groups, talking. Another man took pictures. A group of emergency medical techs stood on a different outcrop, conferring, holding a stretcher between them. Climbing became more difficult with each step. More weeds and stones obscured the path.   Terrain like this made Raul glad he’d worn hiking boots.   At the top of the ridge, the two stretcher-bearers saw him and pointed him down the opposite side. He nodded in thanks and took the steep drop at a more careful pace. At a small clearing, he paused. Below, three men assessed the position of the dead body at their feet. One of them was his boyhood friend Enrique Petron, the Spanish police detective and the other two looked like they might be his assistants,   Raul took one good, hard look at the dead man. Sprawled in an ungainly pose, he looked like a rag doll who’d been throw over the edge. Raul’s gut wrenched, the man’s broken corpse tearing his sense of justice that a human being had died so violently.   Rough terrain of Montserrat.
You would not want to fall down here!   His gaze caught on a sharp movement to the far right of the body. An attractive brunette scrambled down the rock-strewn path, her long curls glistening in the dying rays of the sun. The shimmer blinded him but revived visions of that same chocolate-and-caramel-colored hair drifting through his fingers, sliding over his skin, teasing his cock.   No. Folly to think that she would be here.   He stepped forward, teetered on a slippery stone, then righted himself to stare at her.   She picked her way down the gulley beneath the funicular with a catlike grace that knocked his breath from his chest. He squinted. She couldn’t be his phantom lover. Yet she seemed the right height. Five-five or five-six. The right build. Ample breasts. Lithe figure. One that fit his own with a precision that had shocked him the one night he had enjoyed her over and over again. He wanted to shout at her, make her turn to face him so that he could consign her to his long list of women who never turned out to be his long-lost lover.  But she paused, tipped her head. As if she heard his unspoken demand, she spun and he had to grab a tree branch to keep from yelling at her. Her perfect oval face, her luminous dark eyes, her lips were all the right shape, color, size. No. This can’t be. His cock hardened, lengthened. Oh yes, every part of his body knew this woman. Remembered the hours she had surrendered every bit of herself to him. Recalled how he fit inside her hot creamy folds. In his thirty-four years, only this woman had made him instantly hard—and instantly brain dead. Stifling a curse of frustration, Raul clenched his fist.   After one night with her—and two years hungering for her—this attraction should not occur, Cordona. She stepped out of your bed and your life without a word. Not goodbye. Not thanks. Not even a good “fuck you”.   But of course, he had fucked her. Thoroughly. Three times in the space of the few hours when she had graced his bed in Brussels. And she had loved every mind-blowing second of their encounter.   Just like I did.   “Señor Cordona,” Enrique Petron called to him from the bottom of the crevasse where the body of    Tony Graham lay like a mangled heap of trash. “Por favor.” He beckoned as if the two of them had only recently become acquainted. “Come here, let me ask you your opinion about this.”Enrique and Raul had known each other for two decades, vacationed together often, even partied with women together back in their teens when they were young, loco and stupid. They had met at school in Switzerland. A finishing secondary school for young men, the Citadel of Bern was an elite private institution catering to the brightest offspring of Europe’s diplomatic corps. Raul’s father had been the charge d’affair in the Argentine Embassy to the Vatican, while Enrique’s served in the similar post for the Spanish Embassy. Both older men were security experts, married to American women and their sons had followed in their footsteps. Enrique was the senior detective on the regional Guardia Civil police force, while Raul had left his job three years ago in Houston homicide to track international killers for one of the most renowned global security firms, Nemesis.   Flipping up his collar against the biting wind, Raul made his way down from the craggy trail and praised his own foresight to wear warm clothes. The temperature at this elevation could be twenty or more degrees cooler than along the sunny coast. When Adam Molloy had called him two hours ago from Houston to tell him about this death, Raul had grabbed all his clothes and donned layers to keep him toasty.  View of mountains surrounding monastery facing east
toward Mediterranean and Barcelona. “Tony Graham is…was a good friend of mine,” Adam had told Raul. “I just got a call from his wife that a few tourists spotted Tony’s body on a hillside in Montserrat. We don’t know much yet but I’d like you to take a look at this for me. Nothing official for Nemesis. And I know you’re on vacation after that Paris job with Lane and Isabella, but you are the closest of our operatives to the scene.”Raul had jumped on the opportunity to help Adam. Over the past few years, Adam and his wife Nicole, one of the partners in Nemesis, had pulled quite a few strings for Raul. So before he hung up, he had asked Adam to send any info on Graham to his phone. “A bio. Employment records. Anything you can tell me about his character. And by the way, any idea what he was doing up in Montserrat in October?”   “Not much. His wife, Serena, just told me that he was on a job there in Barcelona. Tony is a private investigator. Owns his own company headquartered in London. Two partners. That’s all I know for now, but I’ll send over whatever I can get my hands on. Thanks for this.”   “No problemo.” Minutes later, Raul had checked out of his beachside hotel north on the Costa Brava and sped south in his rental car to the mountaintop tourist attraction.   The tiny town approximately thirty miles outside Barcelona had only a thousand residents. But high on the treacherous side of the serrated mountains, monks operated a one-thousand-year-old church, a school for boys, a printing press, a candy manufacturing plant and one of the finest, highest net-worth art galleries in Europe.Now in the thirty-degree chill factor, Raul shivered as he descended the slope. Feigning indifference to the brunette who spoke with one of Enrique’s team, Raul wondered what in god’s name she did for a living that she was allowed to poke around at the crime scene of a murdered private investigator. So much for bedding women whose name you do not know.   At Raul’s approach, Enrique walked over to Graham’s body. When he spoke, his voice was at a low pitch. “Notice anything odd about his position?”   “The head is turned at an odd angle.”   “Sí. That’s what I thought too. Even though he fell the distance from the top up there of say forty or fifty feet, would he die?”   “The terrain on this side is not as steep as on the north face. From up there, he would have rolled. I think that means he would break a few bones. But a man so young and fit could stop his fall. Don’t you agree?”   Enrique huffed, bending to examine the body and clucking his tongue.   Raul stole another glimpse of the woman who fascinated him. Dios, she was luscious.Enrique rose. “Sí, sí. I agree. How then would he break his neck that severely?”   “Where is your forensic analyst?” Raul asked, angry at himself for allowing the woman to steal his attentions from business. “What does he say?”Enrique bit off a Spanish epithet. “Not here yet. Still in bed with his new wife.”   “Ah, good for him,” Raul offered with sarcasm. “So you think Graham’s neck was broken before he fell?“   “I’ll let my forensics man tell me. But whatever the answer on his neck, I do question if he fell or if he was pushed.”   Raul flared his nostrils.   Enrique frowned as he studied the body again. “Anything else seem out of sorts about his position?”   “Looks like his trouser pockets are turned out.”   Enrique winced. “True. We’ve searched his coat. He has no wallet.”   Raul’s mind snapped on a sequence of deductions. Raul wanted to laugh. “This is a robbery? Ridiculous.”   Enrique crossed his arms. “That is my thought, but we haven’t found it.”   “How did you ID him?”   “His rental car in the parking lot near the visitors center.” Enrique pointed toward the lot and the auto with police tape around it. “Rental agreement proves it is his.”“And the rental company re-confirms this?” Raul pressed.Enrique nodded. “Sí. That car is not stolen. We asked for the fax of the rental company’s copy of his driver’s license. This is the same man. Anthony Graham, age forty. Resident of London, England.”“Neck broken before he was thrown over the hill. Wallet taken to make it appear like a robbery.” Raul squinted back up the hill, forcing himself to ignore the brunette several paces below. “I’ll look around at the top. See if there are any signs of a scuffle. Better have one of your boys come with me, just in case.”“Right. I want no problems with chain of evidence—or you being here.” Enrique’s eyes danced.“You can cover for me. I know your turn with me in Houston PD did you a lot of good.”   A brief smile flashed on Enrique’s face. “Taught by the best. Go look at the top of the cliff and tell me what you find.” Enrique tipped his head toward the path. “That way you will stop eyeing the candy.”   “Candy?” Irritated that he hadn’t been cool about his interest in the svelte brunette, Raul wanted to ignore any affirmation that he might be attracted to the woman—but couldn’t summon the lie. “How can you tell?”   “Mi amigo, I can smell the way she singes your heart.”   “Hell with that.” Raul chuckled. “Never my heart.”   Enrique waved a hand at him. “No. Your cojones. Did she reject you?”   Reject me? He’d assumed that at first, but as the days marched on, Raul knew she had another reason to run. He’d wondered what it had been. “No, not that.”   “Hmm. If she did, she was the only one to ever do so. Interesting. I will send her up to you.”   Don’t. “Why?”   “She must learn what you know about him.”   “And who is she?” he asked. Damn his soul. It was his eagerness to fuck her again that was not a good idea.   “So. You need an introduction?”   “I do.” Wish to Christ I didn’t.   Enrique teased. “What am I? Your social secretary?”   “Tell me, Petron. You know that you probably have a murder on your hands here. And I have information from my employers about the dead man that can save all of you time and heartache. How can she be here? Why did you allow her?” Raul insisted.  View of Barcelona's Las Ramblas at night
from a roof-top restaurant! “She is a criminal investigator for the European Union.”   Alarms went off in Raul’s head. Whatever her name or her proclivity to fuck a man blind within hours of meeting him, she had the same kind of profession as he did. Any coincidence that might have occurred to him about their meeting two years ago melted away. Until he reviewed what he’d been working on that night he’d pushed between her legs and lost himself, he would be very careful renewing his acquaintance with her. Had she worked for the EU then? Was her interest in him purely personal or had there been another method to her madness? He drove a hand through his hair. Damn if he could recall what he had worked on the night he lost his mind with her in his arms. “You have known her before today?”   “No. I saw her badge. She is, as you say in the States, good to go.”  “Good to be here. Why?”   “She’s investigating the work Graham was doing for a major oil company.”   “Which one?” Raul asked, his gaze devouring the willowy figure of the woman who had lived in his memory for far too long and whose raw sexuality had spoiled him for so damn many other females.As if she too recalled the abandon of their lovemaking, she looked straight into his eyes.   He might never be certain, but at that moment, he felt her tremble in recognition. And enjoy the memory too? 4 Cats Restaurant where Picasso
ate, drank and created logo
for restaurant owners!   Scenes of how she had laughed with him in the bar where they’d met ripped through him. Memories of her warm mouth, ravenous for his. Her body, elegant in her passion, long and reedlike, her breasts, firm mounds. Her pussy, tight as sin, glossed with dark brown hair, fat labia, soaking wet with cream, all for him. The way she came with abandon. The delight in sucking him off as if she’d never tasted any other man. The way she let him have her, on the bed, against the wall. In his shower. Every time, she had come, crying her joy as her sweet cunt milked him dry.   “Did you hear me?” Enrique taunted him.   “No,” Raul admitted, knowing he sounded like a sleepwalker. “Tell me again.”   “Roca Oil. Their main refineries are down on the Barcelona waterfront.”   “Gracias.”  “De nada, my friend. Now go look at that path and stop ogling SeñoritaTerrasona.”   “That’s her name?” Raul asked, steeling himself to sound indifferent.   “Pilar.”
   Pilar. Pilar Terrasona. You and I are going to get to know each other again. This time, I need to know not just your name but what you do for a living and why you are here. That means that this time, lady, you and I are looking at no sex. All business.
BUY LINKS: EC   http://www.ellorascave.com/until-noon.html
Amazon  http://amzn.to/1a0QHFP Statue to Christopher Columbus
in Barcelona on waterfront!
Don't you want to go there now?

Sex and Romance with Edgar Allen Poe: The Fall of the House of Usher redone with a dash of spice!

Sounds creepy, right? That’s what I thought at first when I began looking for a horror classic to pair with The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (published by Totally Bound May 2013) Poe was always my first choice, but I had a minor issue. Everything he writes is gloomy, depressing, and typically ends in multiple gruesome deaths. Sexy.What brought me back to Poe was The Fall of the House of Usher. It’s always been one of my favorites, but it seemed to be impossible to reconcile with Madeline and her brother dying horribly, as well as Madeline only being in the entire story at all for no more than a dozen or so sentences. But when I re-read it, my thoughts went to a couple of different ‘what-if’s’, and I came up with a story line that turned doom and gloom into a happily-ever-after.To give you a little hint as to how I morphed the story without changing any of Poe’s original words (part of the Clandestine Classic rules), I’m including the following excerpt from when Edward – Roderick’s boyhood chum – is finally able to locate the mysterious Lady Madeline Usher and sneak into her room late at night.BlurbGloom, dread and fear possess the House of Usher and its inhabitants. But Edward sees nothing but light and love in the fair Madeline. Can he save her from the deadly illness that has plagued the Usher family for centuries—before it is too late?Invited to the gloomy, decaying House of Usher by a boyhood chum, Edward is perplexed by his friend’s mysterious affliction. Roderick tells him that it is a curse on his family, and that all of the Ushers must eventually succumb. Upon briefly viewing Roderick’s sister—the lovely Madeline—Edward determines to save both her and Roderick from their awful fate.But there are strange twists and turns that Edward encounters in his quest to discover the truth of the puzzling illness. Is the valet Henry up to no good? Does the house itself hold some unnatural sway over its residents? Or is there an even more sinister explanation? When Edward finally chances to meet the Lady Madeline secretly, he has no doubt that only his love and resolve can save her. One night, it appears that he hasn’t acted soon enough. Is there still hope that he can rescue sweet Madeline from the clutches of the evil House of Usher?
Excerpt from The Fall of the House of UsherBy Edgar Allen Poe & Morticia Knight
    “I am afraid I have no wine or any drink other than water to offer you.”Here she was, for all practical purposes a prisoner in her own home, and yet she was worried about being a proper hostess. I was quickly reaching the conclusion that my affections for this woman were building as each moment passed between us, and I was determined to find a way out for her.    “Please, Madeline, do not worry about me, for I have had all the hospitality your brother has to offer. I am only regretful that I could not bring you more without causing undue question. Please, my dear, eat. You must be famished.”   “Thank you, Edward. I have been considering all day just how thoughtful it was for you to offer to help me. I know it is at a great risk, especially as you do not know me and should not care what happens to me.”   “Why do you think that I should not care? Even if you were nothing more to me than your brother’s sister, that alone should compel me to be interested in your well-being. Anything less than that would make me an animal, and not worth your consideration.”   “Oh?” she said, and popped a grape into her delectable mouth. After consuming her treat, she continued. “Then you desire to be worthy of my consideration?”   I flushed a little. I was not entirely sure what she meant. She was a gentlewoman, and I had not detected any signs of coquettishness in her, so I was a little confused as to what she was suggesting. If indeed there was anything she wished to suggest.   She finally laughed at what I am sure was a stunned expression on my face.   “I do not understand…”   “I am sorry, Edward, I should not tease you. I am being perfectly awful. It is just that I feel so much lighter since I met you earlier, so much freer. I suddenly feel as though everything is going to be fine. And having a handsome man to come and rescue me, why, it is just like in the fairy tales.”I had not been called handsome since my younger school days, and I had never cared one way or another until that very moment. To have this stunning woman think of me in that regard caused a little giddiness to wash over me.   “You are much too generous, Lady Madeline. But I accept your compliment gratefully. And I wish you to know that my concern for you exceeds my allegiance to your brother.”She had been eating a bit of bread with some cheese, and she put it back down on the napkin. “Really? Why is that?”   I immediately felt that I had spoken in haste. I was not sure where the conversation might go, and under the circumstances—being alone together in her room at night—I needed to be careful. She was waiting on me to answer.   “Well, I do not wish to discomfit you in any way, but I find you to be a very engaging and lovely woman. I believe had we met outside of your current situation, I would have sought to court you as a proper gentleman.”   “Oh. I see.”   She looked down, and I had the sense that what I had said disappointed her in some way, but I could not fathom why.  “What is it, Madeline?” I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. The heat between us was palpable, and I could feel my excitement growing. It was a dangerous situation for us both.   “I am hopeless when it comes to talking with a gentleman. There has been little opportunity for me to converse properly with men in society. In addition, I have been accustomed to speaking plainly with Roderick my whole life. I was only ever given the chance to have one season before Roderick insisted I stay with him here at the mansion. I was but sixteen at the time, and now, well, I am just an old maid.”She looked down at the ground and tried to pull her hands away from me, but I would not allow it. This time it was I who knelt before her.   “Sweet Madeline, whatever do you mean? You have said nothing to offend me. And the last thing I would ever consider you to be is an old maid—you are a wondrously beautiful woman. It is I who feel as if I have said something wrong.”   She sighed, but relaxed her hands into mine. She still would not meet my gaze however.   “I am just afraid that you are placating me with talk of courting if things were different. I am sure you do not say it in earnest, and I would not expect it of you.”   I was perplexed. I had never been one to do well with females myself, and seemed to consistently cause them to turn away from me through my words. Even the daughter of my friend had eventually tired of my attentions. I had considered recently that I would like to take a woman in marriage, but I was unable to find any who caused a spark in me. Until Madeline. I had only sought to keep from sounding too forward, and thus to be perceived as a rake trying to court a lady in the middle of the night while she was being held captive. It seemed rather bizarre.   “You have misjudged me, Madeline. I am not seeking to appease you whatsoever. I do see you as a woman whom I would want to court, but I was afraid you might think me too brazen. I have not been what I would consider to be the most eloquent of men when it comes to conversing with young ladies, but I implore you to believe me in this matter. I feel a strong attraction to you that goes beyond just helping a good friend’s sister. I would court you in any way that I could, under any conditions, and hope that you do not take offence to that.”   This time she looked me straight in the eyes. “Can it be so? I believed that Gregory was serious in his attentions, yet he abandoned me after that last day. I have never even received so much as a letter from him since. Just recently, Roderick mentioned that Gregory is engaged to Victoria, a woman younger than me, and with only a slightly less substantial dowry than mine.”   So that is it then, I thought. The poor thing had been cast aside, and her paramour had not even endeavoured to fight for her when an easier target had made itself available.   “I should not tell you any of this,” she continued. “The girls my first season warned me against speaking my mind openly. They said I did not know how to play the game of matchmaking properly.    They told me that the only way to win your desired man’s heart was to feign disinterest and turn up your nose. None of their advice made sense to me. How is one supposed to know when to cease acting indifferently, so that they can get to the stage of engagement?”   I laughed heartily at her question. By Jove if I had not wondered the very same thing. When a woman seemed uninterested in me, I simply walked away!   She tried to pull her hands away, mistaking my laughter as mocking her.   “No, no, Madeline. Listen to me. I too have felt that way when I was interested in a woman. They would ignore me, so I gave up. Maybe they were all actually madly in love with me!”   She laughed then too, a charming musical sound, and I was relieved that she was not cross with me.   “Let us speak plainly then, Madeline, as it would seem that is what we do the best.”   “Quite right, Edward, I agree.”****Available now at Totally Bound: https://www.totallybound.com/the-fall-of-the-house-of-usher
All Romance ebooks:https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thefallofthehouseofusher-1385807-140.html
Morticia Knight Author Bio Erotic Romance author Morticia Knight enjoys a good saucy tale, whether it is contemporary, paranormal, historical, ménage, M/M or BDSM - she loves it all! One of her passions is bringing people's fantasies to life on the page, because life is too short for even one boring moment. Her stories are volcanic in heat, deep in emotion, and sprinkled with doses of humor.
When not indulging in her passion for books, she loves the outdoors, film and music. Once upon a time she was the singer in an indie rock band that toured the West Coast and charted on U.S. college radio. She currently resides on the northern coast of Oregon, where the constant rain and fog remind her of visits to her family in England and Scotland when she was a child.
For 2014, Morticia has additional installments coming out in the historical M/M romance series, Gin & Jazz, as well as her best-selling Uniform Encounters series.

Find her here:  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/morticia.knight?ref=tn_tnmnTwitter: @morticiaknight
Blog: www.morticiaknight.blogspot.com

When you go shopping, don't you want to go to The Department Store's Ground Floor, Toys and Games? New! by Jorja Lovett!

      Thanks for having me here today to share my new release. I've always found something romantic about those old department stores and I'm having so much fun writing this series. Each book will focus on one floor of Kelsey's store and the hot encounters between staff and customers. As Toys & Games suggests, book one is the tale of one couple having a little fun outside working hours…
Buy Now from Totally BoundAvailable 3rd January from Amazon and All Romance Blurb:
Jen is the new girl in the toy store but it's not long before the boss' son Jamie teaches her how to play.
Recently bereaved, Jen White hopes her new job in the toy shop at Kelsey's Department Store is a fresh start. One ripped pair of stockings later, she catches the eye of the boss' son, Jamie. She's not looking to replace her partner but he soon makes her realise she doesn't want to spend the rest of her life celibate. And die a virgin.

Jamie Kelsey's a screw up. Well his father still thinks so, even after he's tried to make amends for losing the family's fortune. The store's in trouble but with his father still stuck in the dark ages and refusing his help, he's worried it's too late. With a little help from their newest employee, he starts to make his mark on the store. He's sworn off women to concentrate on his career but when Jen comes to him looking to further her sexual education, it's an offer he can't refuse.
Excerpt
   “Where are you taking me?” Jen pulled on her coat over her uniform. She wasn’t sure where Jamie usually dined but she was certain she wasn’t dressed for the occasion.   “Okay, I lied. We’re not going out to lunch. I hope you’re not too hungry.” He grabbed her hand and whisked her out onto the streets of the city centre.   Jen’s stomach rumbled in defiance, but in this instance she’d rather sate her curiosity than her appetite. “I can wait, but what’s so important?”   “Something you said got me thinking. There’s only so much I can teach you. Some things, well, you’ll just have to discover for yourself. I’m taking you to Gresham Street.”   “Gresham Street? Where all the sex shops are?” Her voice dropped to an embarrassed whisper as they moved through the throng of shoppers and tourists towards the seedier end of town.   “Yeah. You’re under no obligation to wear a long mac and sunglasses, I just thought you might like to have a look around.”The closer they got to the gaudy shop windows, the more she felt like a young innocent being led into a den of vice. She was so out of her depth.   The door chimed as they walked in, but the inside of the premises was more inviting than the closed shutters and neon lights outside suggested. She’d expected some dark, dingy backstreet dive crawling with furtive middle aged men. Instead, she found a normal shop whose customers were ordinary young couples and groups of girls having a giggle.   “See? You didn’t set off their newbie alarm after all.” Jamie grinned, and taking her by the hand, led her over to the mannequins modelling their range of sexy lingerie.   “I wouldn’t mind splashing out on some new underwear.” The pretty, flowery sets she wore no longer reflected her mood. She wanted something bold, something daring to show off to her lover.   “I wouldn’t mind splashing out on these.” Jamie held up a pair of crotchless black panties.“They’re not very practical.” Jen ignored the innuendo to search through the rails of lace and silk.   “Oh, I don’t know. I think I would find them very handy.” He twanged the black string underwear but she didn’t bite.    “What about these? Which one do you prefer?” She picked out a red lace plunge bra and a padded leopard print one, holding each one to her chest in turn.   “I like them both.” Jamie snatched them off her and stuffed them into her basket along with the matching thongs. She was on the right track at least.   They moved on past the rainbow of coloured dildos and strap-ons. One penis at a time was plenty for her. She paused at the bondage and fetish section and cocked her head at some of the oddly shaped black rubber, wondering which orifice they were intended for.   “I think that’s a bit far out for even me.” Jamie zipped the mouth closed on a gimp mask and walked away.   “What about embracing your inner Dom?” Jen flicked the end of a leather flogger at his backside.   “I might be an arsehole but I like my bed partners to know their own mind. Besides, something tells me you wouldn’t make the perfect submissive either.” He grabbed the leather strands and yanked her towards him for a kiss.   “But that means you get to spank me for misbehaving,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.   “Okay, we’ll take it.” He tossed it in the basket. “Along with one of these.” And added a double sided paddle to the purchases.She bypassed the nipple clamps, quite happy for Jamie to do her tweaking for her, and hovered by the display of tubes and lubes.   “Mint or strawberry?” They both promised extra pleasure.Jamie arched an eyebrow at her.   “I know, I know. Both. This is adding up to one expensive lunch break, Mr Kelsey.” Fun didn’t come cheap. Well, the experimental kind at least.   “If I can’t spend my cash on sex toys and lube what can I spend it on?” 
Buy Now from Totally Bound
Available 3rd January from Amazon and All Romance Author Bio:Jorja Lovett is a British author with both Irish and Scottish roots, which makes for a very dry sense of humour. Writing since she was old enough to wield a pen, it wasn't until she joined her crit group, UCW, that she pursued her passion seriously.Now, with Joe Manganiello as her permanent muse, if she can leave the pause button on her Magic Mike dvd long enough, she hopes to spend the rest of her days writing steamy romances.Author Links: Facebook, Twitter, Blog, Website

Hey, Bub, Read a Book lately? Good for depression, compassion, creativity. Need some? Spread the word and read a book!

I knew that sooner or later someone would discover that reading a book actually was good for you.
FICTION, especially!
Now in the USA where the average college graduate reads one book per year, (shoot me, please) reading anything is akin to revolutionary. But latest findings by different groups show us that reading:
stimulates nerve endings in the brain in that area which focuses on creativity;fiction inspires a sense of identification with the protagonist and therefore, a compassion for his/her challenges;is what doctors are now prescribing for depression because reading inspires a sense of orderliness and offers hope. This new prescription has a name/term too: bibliotherapy.WOW.  I really like these findings.
They give me hope that:
Shock Treatment for the brain will end and be supplanted by Reading Treatment;not only reading but writing fiction will become a means to heightened empathy for others;fewer people will wind up depressed because they learned how to read and write about their personal issues and they developed a sense of objectivity about their Human Condition;appreciation for memoirs and diary writing will take on new value and meaning to many who may have  negated their value in recuperating from PTSD or head injuries, even addictions to alcohol and or drugs.
I could go on, jumping up and down in my glee that so many people are advocating reading, dear sweet reading and ever so important writing as viable, useful activities.

Just imagine a world in which people are more articulate! They wish to discuss issues freely. (Yes, do see my 2 previous posts on The Art of Conversation and All I Want for Christmas.) They have a useful and colorful vocabulary which replaces the 4 letter words they use now liberally, along with the ever-so-ridiculous word, awesome.
They would speak with purpose, listen with purpose, perhaps even give up an hour of TV each day so that they could have a conversation over the dinner table!
Miraculous!
I am so ready for that.
Aren't you?
And oh, by the way, what is the book you are currently reading?
ME?
I am into LONE SURVIVOR. Had it for awhile and now must hurry so that I am well prepared for the movie.
Yes, that's me. Read THE HELP yet? Do.
GONE WITH THE WIND? Better read it first for the historical background.
How about TEAM OF RIVALS? Yep. That one, too, can rock your world.
Read and WRITE in 2014. My new mantra everywhere!

Going to Holiday Parties? Please take The Fine Art of Conversation…not your phone

Twittering ain't conversation.  Neither is Facebook. But I think that is what most now use as the basis for the fine art of conversation. One hundred and forty characters about one person, the author. Delivered with authority, humor if you've got it—and a dose of civility.

This holiday season, like you, I have been to quite a few luncheons, dinner parties and cocktail events.
Allow me to ask, am I the only one working the room? Finding out who YOU are? Being a good guest, congenial and participating? Asking why must you look at your phone? Hello! It's 9 p.m. on Saturday night and you are old enough to not need a babysitter for your kids, so why are you texting?

Yes, I am Grinch-ing this blog. Asking that people return to the fine art of conversation.

I don't remember who it was who wrote an essay about having a daily date to meet his grandmother for tea time. I seem to think he must have been British, but that does not matter as much as the universality of what he wished to convey. When he was a child, he cringed at the thought of having to spend an hour with his grand dame alone. She required him to converse. Until he was perhaps twelve or thirteen, he really did not understand that conversation was a mutual exchange of information. Once he realized that this distinctly human skill for sharing hopes, expectations and news was revelatory, he was off and running.

The point of con (with) verse (talk) ation (process of) is to find mutual interests, discover each other's proclivities and learn from the other's experiences. Now that, I contend, should not be difficult, right?

Yet this season, I have been to a few events in which I came to meet new people and learn about them. After all, that is what gives us perspective on our own human condition. Or so I would assert. But I must say I have come away from at least two of these occasions in which I learned more about the other person than they probably expected. For one person, I was treated to a monologue until lack of breath or subject matter caused her to halt for air. I could not even inject a question, her speech was so relentlessly delivered. I broke away…for a drink, baby. A big one!

In another case, I came away able to write the woman's short bio. I know her career path, the number of her grandchildren, when the first and last were born and how she felt about that. I know her professional biography, too. This person at least talked at a normal pace and had a few moments of interest in others who sat nearby. But I will note that the person did not ask one question of any of the others. Other guests volunteered their own experiences. This person never solicited any information. I marvel at that self-centeredness.

I doubt it is difficult to teach our children how to converse. Yes, I had three of my own who were required to show the whites of their eyes at the dinner table each evening at 6:30. They were expected to tell us about their day, their thoughts, their experiences while they ate their vegetables. But teaching children to talk is a walk in the park. Helping adults to converse should be as simple.

Yet each year I seem to find fewer who know how to share information about themselves that does not become a diatribe. Even with a glass of wine in their hands!

I will continue to go to parties looking for those who can talk. And contribute. Share.

This year, I've had my share of those who don't.  Too bad most of them wind up as my characters in next year's novels.

Santa, Baby, I want a little civility, no more navel gazers, negotiation among opposites, people who understand that love is WORK, baby, and a gin and tonic. Make that a double!

Yesterday, I was tempted to go sit on Santa's knee. I was at the Mall, saw the line, had the urge to push those kids aside and declare what I want.
I am too old for that, some would say. But still, I was sorely tempted. After all, I know no child who ever approached the bearded guy with anything other than trepidation. I have none. He would value that. Men do, we writers of erotic romance understand that.Why would I make a spectacle of myself and sit on Santa's knee? Would I tell him I write erotica? No, no. Not where I go with this. It would be because I WANT things for Christmas.
1. All those folks out there in la-la land who think that connecting with the Yin-Yang of the world comes from constantly looking at themselves (NAVELS, anyone?) lack perspective.
Dare I add, they need a little humility.If one more person tells me they are due a reward for being good this year, I will smack them.You get what you give.No give to others, no get anything in return.And here, I am not talking about giving away money. I speak only of giving  talents and time to those less fortunate.Rescue a homeless dog or cat.Work at a soup kitchen for a day.And no, donating your old jeans to Good Will does not qualify.
2. I want people to learn that compromise is not a dirty word.
I'm tired of being bullied by my opposite political persuasion. Yes, I'd love to have time with my loved ones over the holidays without a diatribe about:Santa Claus's racehealthcareIran vis a vis Israeltax ratesEven a local money management firm here in San Antonio runs political ads of the Wild Eyed Crazy type on their electronic billboard next to lines like: Merry Christmas! Good Will Toward Men. My response is: well, brother, what have you done to foster good will toward men lately?
Truth is: If I ran my decades' old marriage the way the two political parties in this country have NOT run this country and taught the rest of us to:
a) interrupt each other when we talk,
b) disparage anything the other says that is opposite theirs,
c) demand they get their way all the freaking time, I would not be married…or in love with ANYone.And then we could move on to other great discussions to include items that disparage the divorce rate, lagging birth rate and the failing educational system which cannot teach a child to tolerate any other because they have no role models!
3. I want more people to read a damn book.
Do you know that since approximately the mid-1980s, the average college graduate in the USA reads one book a year. ONE!Fiction. Non. Who cares? Right. No one.Are we all so busy playing video games? Texting? Buying stuff like shea butter and yoga toes sox, and Williams Sonoma peppermint bark mix?YEAH.That's what we do with our time.And we are the educated ones.Recently, another study told us that people who read fiction, have more compassion for others. They can identify with others' challenges. I say to them, BRING IT ON.I want to clone you.We need more readers in this country and God knows, we need more compassion.One of every 5 children goes to bed hungry in this country. One out of 5.Think about that.  Every fifth child you see on the sidewalk…or standing in line for Santa.Pitiful. And yet, I do hear from people who have a college education and should know better, that this is their fault that they cannot eat well. REALLY? These children do not eat well because their parents have no money to put a decent meal on the table. They have to TRAVEL miles to get to a large grocery store and traveling costs bus money, at the very least.
Let's get more intelligent about how we airbrush the less fortunate in this country. Airbrushing is for women's magazines, not public policy.
4. And speaking of women's magazines, I want Santa to FIRE all those editors who publish stories which begin with: How To Get Your Man To…
THIS is what I fought for when I told my corporate boss I would not take that big promotion unless he also gave me the salary my male predecessor earned?
THIS is what I need my own daughter to read when I have a wonderful proliferation of women's fiction, romance novels and yes, erotica for women to choose from????
Women's magazines that purport to tell a woman how to capture The Elusive Male are so full of 1950s delusions. Where is Betty Friedan when you need her?
This stuff went out with girdles.
But wait! Now we have Spanx. 
Can we girls never get our $hit together???
5. Finally, I do want a good gin and tonic. I need a double.
Furthermore, when you come to my house this year for our Kareoke and wine tasting party, please do not bring that $5 bottle. That is an insult. (Remember, I'm serving great nibbles cuz I am honoring our friendship. Reciprocate.)
Fine taste and good manners are still appreciated. And I want more people to think twice about how to honor their friends. 
Humility. Charity. Integrity. Good manners.
All I want for Christmas.
Give it to me.