Elise Hepner's Blog, page 12
December 13, 2012
Ways to Spice Up a Marriage
My guest blog today for the Sextionary Blog Hop grand tour is all about spicing up a marriage -in or out of the honeymoon phase. And I want your input! Check out Liza Brown's Blog for more information!
December 11, 2012
Board Game Sexy Times
I'm on Chloe Waits blog today talking about how to make board games a little spicier than usual. This is the 4th stop on my Sextionary Blog Hop. Here's where I've been and where I'll be, in review:
Dec 9th--Willsin Rowe
Dec 10th--Mama Kitty Reviews
Dec 11th--Justine Elyot
Dec 12th--Chloe Waits
Dec 13th-- Liza Brown
Dec 14th--Sara Brookes
Dec 15th--Skye Warren
Dec 16th--Stormie Kent
Dec 17th--Scorcha Mowbray
Dec 18th--Tabitha's Blog
Dec 19th-- Alanna Coca
Comment on any guest blog to win a prize announced at the end of the hop!
Dec 9th--Willsin Rowe
Dec 10th--Mama Kitty Reviews
Dec 11th--Justine Elyot
Dec 12th--Chloe Waits
Dec 13th-- Liza Brown
Dec 14th--Sara Brookes
Dec 15th--Skye Warren
Dec 16th--Stormie Kent
Dec 17th--Scorcha Mowbray
Dec 18th--Tabitha's Blog
Dec 19th-- Alanna Coca
Comment on any guest blog to win a prize announced at the end of the hop!
December 10, 2012
Who is Jasper?
I'm guest blogging over at Justine Elyot's Blog today for the third stop on my Sextionary blog hop and I'm blogging about the inspiration for my hero, Jasper, in my new BDSM novella. A hint, the main idea came from a character from Sons of Anarchy.
Infinite Story Possibilities
I'm guest blogging over at Mamakitty Reviews today and gabbing about how Sextionary started off as a different story entirely--in every sense of the word. This is my second stop on my blog hop. Comment for a chance to win a 10 dollar All Romance Ebooks giftcard at the end!
December 8, 2012
Interview of Legend with Willsin Rowe
Today I'm talking shop with Willsin Rowe over on his blog about why BDSM is so popular, what I'd never write, and who'd be my ultimate threesome. Stop by and comment to win a 10 dollar All Romance E-books gift card at the end of the hop!
December 7, 2012
Sextionary Releases Today
Most excellent news today in the form of a new release! Many new releases will be coming your way because apparently, I just wanted to close out my 2012 with a bang. Today's new release is Sextionary, a BDSM novella that was supposed to be a short story--but it wouldn't shut up and kept growing. So, now it's a novella, and it's only .99 cents. For eighteen thousand delicious, kinky words. Happy Holidays!
I'll be starting a blog tour to promote Sextionary and I'll be giving away a 10 dollar All Romance E-books gift card to a random winner. That's free books on top of free books, ladies and gents. All you have to do is comment anywhere along the tour to be entered to win the gift card. A winner picked by random generator will be the recipient of the gift of books! Who doesn't love that? Here's the order of my blog tour so far:
Dec 9th--Willsin Rowe
Dec 10th--Mama Kitty Reviews
Dec 11th--Justine Elyot
Dec 12th--Chloe Waits
Dec 13th-- Liza Brown
Dec 14th--Sara Brookes
Dec 15th--Skye Warren
Dec 16th--Stormie Kent
Dec 17th--Scorcha Mowbray
Dec 18th--Tabitha's Blog
Dec 19th-- Alanna Coca
Anywho, here's the blurb and excerpt to Sextionary.
Blurb:
One small, sand filled timer flipped Jasper and Jill’s world.
Boring, board game date nights evolved into twenty questions or a spanking. From stimulating conversations—to ripped panties as a makeshift gag. And Jasper’s new fascination with anything leather pulling Jill further down onto her knees.
The Rules of the Game: Jill draws on paper what she wants from her husband’s lips, tongue, teeth, and fingers
No stick figures
If Jasper can’t guess her needs, he takes over any way he sees fit
Only a minute to shift their roles—but there’s always time for the darkest pleasure—and a line they never thought they would cross.
Excerpt:
“Honey, I’m home,” she called out, secretly pleased when her voice didn’t quaver one bit.The scent of strawberry—wafting from the candles tucked in every corner—both soothed her mind while also tightening her muscles as she dropped her purse on the floor. One measured breath after the next. Total silence while she fought off the urge to fidget, picking at her tight skirt or unbinding her hair from the constricting bun. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—mess with their ritual. A personal game during date night that had taken on new meaning half a year ago. Had become so much more than enjoying each other’s company over a glass of sugary, sweet fruit wine and a board game.More intimate than talking, so she held back her voice, even as she longed to walk into the living room. But it wasn’t only about her wants. Her needs. Marriage was a partnership and she was willing to do her half to make her partner happy. Even if it meant standing perfectly still while her nipples hardened against her rough sweater and she recalled all the fantasies she’d harbored all day at work looping through her brain without a pause button.“Where are you,” she mouthed the words to herself without breathing a sound.A shadow wavered out of the corner of her eye. Before she had time to turn her head he stood in front of her as if he’d been there the whole time. A formless shape only defined by flicking shadows and her ingrained memories. At least until they made their way to the living room—but she knew from experience that part wasn’t soon. No, he stood his ground in front of her with unreadable expression against the darkness. Shallow, barely there breaths. Nothing to showcase his eagerness while she silently pleaded for his touch, every inch of her skin electric with the urge to reach out and brush her fingers across his face.She didn’t touch him for the same reason he made no movement forward—their anticipation of each other was so much better this way. Close enough to sense the brush of his breath—hot against her cheeks. His mouth would taste like citrus toothpaste while his lips would bruise hard enough that her eyes would fill with tears even closed.“You look amazing,” his gravelly voice lilted at the end of his words, an odd accent not anything close to their neighbors or friends. Tonight, the words didn’t matter. His tone was like a hand groping beneath her clothes, eager, unstoppable, and full of heady promise.“You can’t see me.”“I don’t need to see, to know.” Jasper cracked his knuckles and the sound was a gun shot rending through the charged silence.His callused hand wrapped around her wrist and she barely registered that he’d moved forward blocking the entrance to their gourmet kitchen. When she swallowed she nearly choked. As her chin tipped up to look into his eyes, he clucked with his tongue. A gentle reminder. Her eyes slid back to the cheap carpeting in their entryway.But she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that when his fingers pressed ever so slightly into her wrist in warning that her throat closed on a sigh. Though he hadn’t spoken, she knew his touch well enough it was as if he had uttered a forceful command. Loud and constant—until her nervousness was drowned out by the cacophony of blood pumping and rushing between her ears.“Come ‘ere.” He slid his hand up along her forearm and jerked her to his broad, muscular chest while he towered above her petite curves by at least a foot. They rocked together as if magnetized. Pride swelled in her chest when she merely blinked at his actions though the rest of her practically dissolved in his arms soaking in the warmth of protection and the danger his veiled strength.She didn’t put out a hand to stop him—though it wouldn’t have mattered. Jasper would have swatted it away and gripped her all the tighter, all the more painful, until there were tender bruises that she reveled in the next morning. Small, tender marks that would sweetly sting when he pressed on them across the breakfast table in the morning. Besides, it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t leave marks, even when she was good. He dragged his thumb across her skin with his stinging heat—like she was a road map to the only destination in the world that mattered.And as she closed her eyes, her very cells cried out for more of his touch. Her hand curved along his solid, muscular hip. His gaze swept over her until she didn’t have to look at him to know his intentions. Her stare bore into his white t-shirt, her eyes focused so hard on him that she was shocked there wasn’t a hole in his chest that started smoking. His other hand shifted up from her hip to her shoulder, along her neck, and below her chin. Every place he touched hummed and she dug for willpower to keep her hand from shaking against the smooth, smoldering heat of his skin beneath his shirt.One stroke along her chin with his thumb. Enough to set her teeth to chattering if she hadn’t had her jaw clamped shut in order to avoid him knowing the impact of his touch. Jasper was cocky—didn’t need any more help in that department. Until he gave her something, she would work to give him nothing. All day she’d labored with the knowledge of the sweet, hard press of his lips against her throat and the particular rat-a-tat-tat of his fingers against her clit. The less reaction, the better.Before she could figure out what angle he was working tonight, her husband jerked up with chin with a pleased grunt. Her head tipped back with a blink. A deep breath of pine filled her lungs until she ached lodging her noise in the back of her throat. She gauged the look in her lover’s calculating brown eyes. Against the backdrop of darkness with the subtle flicker to their right she could only make out the bright points of his eyes. As if flames danced within them. Tonight he would be the devil, her tormentor—the association inside her mind wasn’t a surprise.“I’m the man that gets to remove all these trappings to get to the sweet treat of your nakedness. I’ll never take it for granted—though tonight you won’t be so lucky,” he breathed against her lips, barely a caress of skin on skin. Enough of a tease that she arched on tiptoe trying to meet his mouth, even as he was already on the verge of leaving her high and dry.There was no reply, because he didn’t expect one. Even if he had, his chest brushed against the front of her sweater until the commanding caress of his hand that had shifted onto the nape of her neck became something of an anchor. Knowing the ritual, their odd little habits every Friday, didn’t make anything boring or old hat. In fact, her knowledge of what to expect in the beginning of their little dance only skyrocketed her anticipation—merely because she knew once his hands were off of her anything was up for grabs.And with his hands on her while her knees shook, he kept her in place, their eyes locked with a mutual understanding. The next several hours would test them both. But it would be worth it—he always made every move worth it. Jasper’s mouth tilted in a gentle smile that she could barely make out. His gaze told a different, more ruthless story like the slow, predatory kneading along her nerve endings at her nape and forearm. Their only points of connection, yet the subtle contact was enough to send her thoughts spinning away in favor of simply basking in his touch.“You know what comes next.”
Buy Links: Excessica ARe There are more third party links on the way shortly, will keep you up to date when those kick in to gear!
I'll be starting a blog tour to promote Sextionary and I'll be giving away a 10 dollar All Romance E-books gift card to a random winner. That's free books on top of free books, ladies and gents. All you have to do is comment anywhere along the tour to be entered to win the gift card. A winner picked by random generator will be the recipient of the gift of books! Who doesn't love that? Here's the order of my blog tour so far:
Dec 9th--Willsin Rowe
Dec 10th--Mama Kitty Reviews
Dec 11th--Justine Elyot
Dec 12th--Chloe Waits
Dec 13th-- Liza Brown
Dec 14th--Sara Brookes
Dec 15th--Skye Warren
Dec 16th--Stormie Kent
Dec 17th--Scorcha Mowbray
Dec 18th--Tabitha's Blog
Dec 19th-- Alanna Coca
Anywho, here's the blurb and excerpt to Sextionary.
Blurb:
One small, sand filled timer flipped Jasper and Jill’s world.
Boring, board game date nights evolved into twenty questions or a spanking. From stimulating conversations—to ripped panties as a makeshift gag. And Jasper’s new fascination with anything leather pulling Jill further down onto her knees.
The Rules of the Game: Jill draws on paper what she wants from her husband’s lips, tongue, teeth, and fingers
No stick figures
If Jasper can’t guess her needs, he takes over any way he sees fit
Only a minute to shift their roles—but there’s always time for the darkest pleasure—and a line they never thought they would cross.
Excerpt:
“Honey, I’m home,” she called out, secretly pleased when her voice didn’t quaver one bit.The scent of strawberry—wafting from the candles tucked in every corner—both soothed her mind while also tightening her muscles as she dropped her purse on the floor. One measured breath after the next. Total silence while she fought off the urge to fidget, picking at her tight skirt or unbinding her hair from the constricting bun. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—mess with their ritual. A personal game during date night that had taken on new meaning half a year ago. Had become so much more than enjoying each other’s company over a glass of sugary, sweet fruit wine and a board game.More intimate than talking, so she held back her voice, even as she longed to walk into the living room. But it wasn’t only about her wants. Her needs. Marriage was a partnership and she was willing to do her half to make her partner happy. Even if it meant standing perfectly still while her nipples hardened against her rough sweater and she recalled all the fantasies she’d harbored all day at work looping through her brain without a pause button.“Where are you,” she mouthed the words to herself without breathing a sound.A shadow wavered out of the corner of her eye. Before she had time to turn her head he stood in front of her as if he’d been there the whole time. A formless shape only defined by flicking shadows and her ingrained memories. At least until they made their way to the living room—but she knew from experience that part wasn’t soon. No, he stood his ground in front of her with unreadable expression against the darkness. Shallow, barely there breaths. Nothing to showcase his eagerness while she silently pleaded for his touch, every inch of her skin electric with the urge to reach out and brush her fingers across his face.She didn’t touch him for the same reason he made no movement forward—their anticipation of each other was so much better this way. Close enough to sense the brush of his breath—hot against her cheeks. His mouth would taste like citrus toothpaste while his lips would bruise hard enough that her eyes would fill with tears even closed.“You look amazing,” his gravelly voice lilted at the end of his words, an odd accent not anything close to their neighbors or friends. Tonight, the words didn’t matter. His tone was like a hand groping beneath her clothes, eager, unstoppable, and full of heady promise.“You can’t see me.”“I don’t need to see, to know.” Jasper cracked his knuckles and the sound was a gun shot rending through the charged silence.His callused hand wrapped around her wrist and she barely registered that he’d moved forward blocking the entrance to their gourmet kitchen. When she swallowed she nearly choked. As her chin tipped up to look into his eyes, he clucked with his tongue. A gentle reminder. Her eyes slid back to the cheap carpeting in their entryway.But she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that when his fingers pressed ever so slightly into her wrist in warning that her throat closed on a sigh. Though he hadn’t spoken, she knew his touch well enough it was as if he had uttered a forceful command. Loud and constant—until her nervousness was drowned out by the cacophony of blood pumping and rushing between her ears.“Come ‘ere.” He slid his hand up along her forearm and jerked her to his broad, muscular chest while he towered above her petite curves by at least a foot. They rocked together as if magnetized. Pride swelled in her chest when she merely blinked at his actions though the rest of her practically dissolved in his arms soaking in the warmth of protection and the danger his veiled strength.She didn’t put out a hand to stop him—though it wouldn’t have mattered. Jasper would have swatted it away and gripped her all the tighter, all the more painful, until there were tender bruises that she reveled in the next morning. Small, tender marks that would sweetly sting when he pressed on them across the breakfast table in the morning. Besides, it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t leave marks, even when she was good. He dragged his thumb across her skin with his stinging heat—like she was a road map to the only destination in the world that mattered.And as she closed her eyes, her very cells cried out for more of his touch. Her hand curved along his solid, muscular hip. His gaze swept over her until she didn’t have to look at him to know his intentions. Her stare bore into his white t-shirt, her eyes focused so hard on him that she was shocked there wasn’t a hole in his chest that started smoking. His other hand shifted up from her hip to her shoulder, along her neck, and below her chin. Every place he touched hummed and she dug for willpower to keep her hand from shaking against the smooth, smoldering heat of his skin beneath his shirt.One stroke along her chin with his thumb. Enough to set her teeth to chattering if she hadn’t had her jaw clamped shut in order to avoid him knowing the impact of his touch. Jasper was cocky—didn’t need any more help in that department. Until he gave her something, she would work to give him nothing. All day she’d labored with the knowledge of the sweet, hard press of his lips against her throat and the particular rat-a-tat-tat of his fingers against her clit. The less reaction, the better.Before she could figure out what angle he was working tonight, her husband jerked up with chin with a pleased grunt. Her head tipped back with a blink. A deep breath of pine filled her lungs until she ached lodging her noise in the back of her throat. She gauged the look in her lover’s calculating brown eyes. Against the backdrop of darkness with the subtle flicker to their right she could only make out the bright points of his eyes. As if flames danced within them. Tonight he would be the devil, her tormentor—the association inside her mind wasn’t a surprise.“I’m the man that gets to remove all these trappings to get to the sweet treat of your nakedness. I’ll never take it for granted—though tonight you won’t be so lucky,” he breathed against her lips, barely a caress of skin on skin. Enough of a tease that she arched on tiptoe trying to meet his mouth, even as he was already on the verge of leaving her high and dry.There was no reply, because he didn’t expect one. Even if he had, his chest brushed against the front of her sweater until the commanding caress of his hand that had shifted onto the nape of her neck became something of an anchor. Knowing the ritual, their odd little habits every Friday, didn’t make anything boring or old hat. In fact, her knowledge of what to expect in the beginning of their little dance only skyrocketed her anticipation—merely because she knew once his hands were off of her anything was up for grabs.And with his hands on her while her knees shook, he kept her in place, their eyes locked with a mutual understanding. The next several hours would test them both. But it would be worth it—he always made every move worth it. Jasper’s mouth tilted in a gentle smile that she could barely make out. His gaze told a different, more ruthless story like the slow, predatory kneading along her nerve endings at her nape and forearm. Their only points of connection, yet the subtle contact was enough to send her thoughts spinning away in favor of simply basking in his touch.“You know what comes next.”
Buy Links: Excessica ARe There are more third party links on the way shortly, will keep you up to date when those kick in to gear!
December 1, 2012
Share Sunday: The Ex House
Here's my share for the weekend from my rough draft of my contemporary erotic novella The Ex House:
Chloe groaned, managing to maneuver her aching legs so the heavy blanket slid partway off her lower body. A small sense of pride from the movement, but she’d take it. God, what was that scent? She couldn’t consider it good or bad until she assessed the food with her eyes. But she was too afraid to open them, unwilling to let the world tilt beneath her again. Half-tangled in blanket, she slowly pushed herself up onto her elbows wincing when the leather couch squeaked. The flesh of her back peeled away from the surface as if she’d been sleeping on a bed of gum. What a lovely thought to wake up to. At least she knew never to have a repeat of last night. She groaned and rubbed her forehead with small, soothing circles.
Didn’t do a damn thing.
Fine, perhaps it was time to face the big bad. Besides her throat was aching, sandpapery, and squeezed tight. With a deep inhale she eased her eyelids open to face the day. Someone had gone ahead and closed all the curtains over the large, open room’s floor to ceiling windows. Well—that was nice of them.
Wait.
A prickle of apprehension tickled her lower back making her pulse push harder against her temples. How had she gotten on the couch? The man from last night—this sure as shit didn’t look like any spa she’d ever set foot in—and she’d been to a lot courtesy of a picky mother. No pamphlets lying out on the coffee table, no check-in desk to welcome guests, no banner proclaiming some kind of healthy living promotion. Not even a measly vase of fresh cut flowers.
All in all, the room was exactly like any other beach house living room she’d ever been in, except for the lack of chipping paint, and the sweet, tart scent of apples. Maybe her mother had given the driver the wrong address? Because this house didn’t have enough rooms that she could see to even begin to cover a spa’s wellness needs. Without another thought, she eased her head between her legs taking deep breaths.
“So the cooking did wake you up? Good, I was wondering how long I’d have to deal with your snoring. Anyone tell you your nasal passages sound like the engine room of the Titanic?”
“Who are you?” she accused, sitting up fast enough that she clawed at her knees with her fingernails to keep her vision from clouding over.
“I’m the guy who saved your ass last night. I’m also your host for the next three days. And I made food. Looks like you won the morning lottery.” He smirked.
He placed down two steaming plates on the coffee table in the front of her, throwing the towels he used for potholders across the room. At least the man knew world class hangover food. In front of them sat two plates piled high with pancakes, fresh berries, whipped cream, and six slices of bacon each on the side. Someone liked their protein, though she couldn’t blame him. Bacon was totally a food group.
“Look’s good.”“Well, you paid to be here. Part of the job description to feed you.”“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine in the morning.” She cracked her neck and winced.“Sorry, you get what you get until Polly comes back.” He shrugged.“Polly?”
She drew her gaze away from the mouthwatering food long enough to frown. Taking a good, solid look at his face brought back a tangle of memories from last night. But a majority of them took a backseat while she studied the handsome stranger slash possible kidnapper. Her impression of him last night hadn’t been too off—he was as tall as a damn lumberjack, at least 6’4. Lean and well-built, what her mother’s trainer would call “naturally thin and trim” with confidence in his words that didn’t play out in his body language.
He dug his hands firmly into a pair of wrinkled, faded jeans. A fawn colored cable knit sweater brought out his large, walnut brown eyes. Thin, black wire frame glasses, dark stubble, and a wiry mass of unruly black hair completed the librarian look. From head to toe he was geek chic, down to bare feet that, thankfully, were perfectly manicured. His eyes shot back and forth, gaze never landing during her scrutiny, mouth tilted down in a frown.
“I should go get the orange juice,” he cleared his throat, turned on his heel, and walked through the door she assumed went into the kitchen.
If she looked at him in the right light, with his glasses off, his high cheekbones and long eyelashes made him look akin to a leading man she’d seen in a Shakespeare movie a while ago. A play of Romeo and Juliet with one of those waifish, blonde actresses dressing up as a man. All the while she was secretly playing the leading man’s muse. Not much else rang a bell.
Chloe shrugged and picked up her fork. What was the harm in chowing down and then calling a cab to drive her to the nearest airport? If she played it safe for the next week she should have enough money in her savings to get her back to NYC safe and sound. No way could her host argue, because he didn’t exactly seem thrilled to have company. She heard the slap of male feet on the hardwood as she tucked the first delicious bite into her mouth.
“Here we are.”He put two garish plastic cups advertising some Atlantic City hotel on the table.“Who’s Polly?” Chloe re-asserted her previous question covering her mouth full of pancakes.“My sister. She runs this place.”“And this place would be…what?”“You’re all paid up for three days and you don’t know where you are? Seriously?”“Looks that way.”
He cocked his head to the side, licked his lips, and shrugged. Watching him uncurl from his place in the large, overstuffed club chair was kind of an Olympian feat. But it wasn’t nearly as entertaining as watching his tight, delicious ass while he headed back into the kitchen with a finger raised over his shoulder. One moment.
Yeah, with these pancakes half-way devoured, she might not have many more of those left before it was time to skedaddle.
He strolled back through swinging kitchen door with a smile on his face a mile wide. Which was kind of nice. Okay, his pearly whites were a little more than nice. Mainly because his eyes lit up behind his glasses, leaving her wobbly knees in the pudding spectrum. But was lusting after some rebound really in her best interest right now? Not when she was making tracks the minute that last bite of syrupy deliciousness coursed down her throat.
Chloe nodded to herself, decided, while he slapped a pale pink flyer down on top of the coffee table next to her plate. His knuckles were sprinkled with tiny, golden hairs. Her gaze tracked back to the flyer as if she’d been caught sneaking a glance.
Without further comment she watched out of the corner of her eye as he deftly folded himself back up into the chair and took his plate into his lap. How it all fit together in the small space must have been a balancing wonder revered by the circus. She shot him a half-smile and tucked in the last bite of pancake moving onto the bacon.
Before the strip made it halfway to her lips her mouth fell, fingers slipping on grease, while the bacon lay unnoticed on the floor. A slap of adrenaline made her blink a few times. No, no way. There had to be a mistake. Her hands fisted into the sides of her hair and she bit the inside of her cheek as a slice of pain flashed inside her mouth.
The Ex-Retreat Clear the Mind to Cleanse Past Heartbreak At our retreat we believe the way to heal is through self-empowerment, focus, meditation, and understanding of ways to right past wrongs. Here you will learn from experienced practitioners how to balance your chakras, cleanse the soul, and come away with the acceptance needed to move on from hurtful relationships. Please call to schedule an appointment and meet with a private, life support coach today! Guidance and true self-love are only a dial tone away!
Chloe groaned, managing to maneuver her aching legs so the heavy blanket slid partway off her lower body. A small sense of pride from the movement, but she’d take it. God, what was that scent? She couldn’t consider it good or bad until she assessed the food with her eyes. But she was too afraid to open them, unwilling to let the world tilt beneath her again. Half-tangled in blanket, she slowly pushed herself up onto her elbows wincing when the leather couch squeaked. The flesh of her back peeled away from the surface as if she’d been sleeping on a bed of gum. What a lovely thought to wake up to. At least she knew never to have a repeat of last night. She groaned and rubbed her forehead with small, soothing circles.
Didn’t do a damn thing.
Fine, perhaps it was time to face the big bad. Besides her throat was aching, sandpapery, and squeezed tight. With a deep inhale she eased her eyelids open to face the day. Someone had gone ahead and closed all the curtains over the large, open room’s floor to ceiling windows. Well—that was nice of them.
Wait.
A prickle of apprehension tickled her lower back making her pulse push harder against her temples. How had she gotten on the couch? The man from last night—this sure as shit didn’t look like any spa she’d ever set foot in—and she’d been to a lot courtesy of a picky mother. No pamphlets lying out on the coffee table, no check-in desk to welcome guests, no banner proclaiming some kind of healthy living promotion. Not even a measly vase of fresh cut flowers.
All in all, the room was exactly like any other beach house living room she’d ever been in, except for the lack of chipping paint, and the sweet, tart scent of apples. Maybe her mother had given the driver the wrong address? Because this house didn’t have enough rooms that she could see to even begin to cover a spa’s wellness needs. Without another thought, she eased her head between her legs taking deep breaths.
“So the cooking did wake you up? Good, I was wondering how long I’d have to deal with your snoring. Anyone tell you your nasal passages sound like the engine room of the Titanic?”
“Who are you?” she accused, sitting up fast enough that she clawed at her knees with her fingernails to keep her vision from clouding over.
“I’m the guy who saved your ass last night. I’m also your host for the next three days. And I made food. Looks like you won the morning lottery.” He smirked.
He placed down two steaming plates on the coffee table in the front of her, throwing the towels he used for potholders across the room. At least the man knew world class hangover food. In front of them sat two plates piled high with pancakes, fresh berries, whipped cream, and six slices of bacon each on the side. Someone liked their protein, though she couldn’t blame him. Bacon was totally a food group.
“Look’s good.”“Well, you paid to be here. Part of the job description to feed you.”“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine in the morning.” She cracked her neck and winced.“Sorry, you get what you get until Polly comes back.” He shrugged.“Polly?”
She drew her gaze away from the mouthwatering food long enough to frown. Taking a good, solid look at his face brought back a tangle of memories from last night. But a majority of them took a backseat while she studied the handsome stranger slash possible kidnapper. Her impression of him last night hadn’t been too off—he was as tall as a damn lumberjack, at least 6’4. Lean and well-built, what her mother’s trainer would call “naturally thin and trim” with confidence in his words that didn’t play out in his body language.
He dug his hands firmly into a pair of wrinkled, faded jeans. A fawn colored cable knit sweater brought out his large, walnut brown eyes. Thin, black wire frame glasses, dark stubble, and a wiry mass of unruly black hair completed the librarian look. From head to toe he was geek chic, down to bare feet that, thankfully, were perfectly manicured. His eyes shot back and forth, gaze never landing during her scrutiny, mouth tilted down in a frown.
“I should go get the orange juice,” he cleared his throat, turned on his heel, and walked through the door she assumed went into the kitchen.
If she looked at him in the right light, with his glasses off, his high cheekbones and long eyelashes made him look akin to a leading man she’d seen in a Shakespeare movie a while ago. A play of Romeo and Juliet with one of those waifish, blonde actresses dressing up as a man. All the while she was secretly playing the leading man’s muse. Not much else rang a bell.
Chloe shrugged and picked up her fork. What was the harm in chowing down and then calling a cab to drive her to the nearest airport? If she played it safe for the next week she should have enough money in her savings to get her back to NYC safe and sound. No way could her host argue, because he didn’t exactly seem thrilled to have company. She heard the slap of male feet on the hardwood as she tucked the first delicious bite into her mouth.
“Here we are.”He put two garish plastic cups advertising some Atlantic City hotel on the table.“Who’s Polly?” Chloe re-asserted her previous question covering her mouth full of pancakes.“My sister. She runs this place.”“And this place would be…what?”“You’re all paid up for three days and you don’t know where you are? Seriously?”“Looks that way.”
He cocked his head to the side, licked his lips, and shrugged. Watching him uncurl from his place in the large, overstuffed club chair was kind of an Olympian feat. But it wasn’t nearly as entertaining as watching his tight, delicious ass while he headed back into the kitchen with a finger raised over his shoulder. One moment.
Yeah, with these pancakes half-way devoured, she might not have many more of those left before it was time to skedaddle.
He strolled back through swinging kitchen door with a smile on his face a mile wide. Which was kind of nice. Okay, his pearly whites were a little more than nice. Mainly because his eyes lit up behind his glasses, leaving her wobbly knees in the pudding spectrum. But was lusting after some rebound really in her best interest right now? Not when she was making tracks the minute that last bite of syrupy deliciousness coursed down her throat.
Chloe nodded to herself, decided, while he slapped a pale pink flyer down on top of the coffee table next to her plate. His knuckles were sprinkled with tiny, golden hairs. Her gaze tracked back to the flyer as if she’d been caught sneaking a glance.
Without further comment she watched out of the corner of her eye as he deftly folded himself back up into the chair and took his plate into his lap. How it all fit together in the small space must have been a balancing wonder revered by the circus. She shot him a half-smile and tucked in the last bite of pancake moving onto the bacon.
Before the strip made it halfway to her lips her mouth fell, fingers slipping on grease, while the bacon lay unnoticed on the floor. A slap of adrenaline made her blink a few times. No, no way. There had to be a mistake. Her hands fisted into the sides of her hair and she bit the inside of her cheek as a slice of pain flashed inside her mouth.
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November 29, 2012
New Writer's Week: Reggi Cole
Hello there! Thanks dear Miz Hepner for allowing me to stop by!
I’m Regina Cole, and I write naughty books. J
It’s awesome to meet you! The world of erotic romance readers and writers has been the most warm and welcoming place. It’s really been wonderful. I never expected to be welcomed this way, so it’s extra nice to see how great everyone is.
So I’d like to introduce you to me!
I write all sorts of erotic romance- contemporary, paranormal, erotic horror, and I’m starting to delve into BDSM. My first release with Ellora’s Cave was in January of 2012, so I haven’t even celebrated my first author-birthday yet. It’s been a wild and wonderful year, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I’m nearly thirty, married, with two crazy dogs and a fat cat. I love fishing, cooking, and curling up with a book or a movie. I’m currently obsessed with anime and Doctor Who. Naps are my favorite. And Diet Mountain Dew is my drink of choice.
God, I sound boring.
This is supposed to be a post about “new stuff”, right? So how’s this.
New York:
New potatoes:
New Balance
Newde Photographs:
Wait, that last one might have been a mistake. Moving on!!
So let’s talk about you. Do you read? Write? What? Tell me something about you!! I want to give you a free ebook copy of INDELIBLY INTIMATE, and I can’t do that if you don’t comment below! Randomly chosen winner, so please leave your email.
Ciao!
November 28, 2012
New Writer's Week: Yolanda Sfetsos
Hello there! Firstly, I'd like to thank Elise for having me over today. :)
My name is Yolanda Sfetsos and I'm a writer from Sydney, Australia. I've been scribbling stories since I was a teenager. I used to spend hours alone in my room making things up inside my head and then writing them down so my friends could read them. It was a lot of fun then, and it's still just as much fun. Writing is something that I've always done. Actually, if I go too long without writing something, I start to get all twitchy.
I write in a variety of genres: UF, PNR, SFR, Horror, even a combination of all of them. My muse doesn't like genre restrictions, which is great because I get to tell just about any story that swamps my mind. And there are many! Sometimes it feels like there's too much noise inside my head. Yeah, makes me sound a little nutty, right? ;)
When I'm not writing, I'm usually reading. I'm a bibliophile and stationery addict. I also love going for walks, working out, as well as watching TV shows and movies. I love The Walking Dead, Grimm, Burn Notice, The Big Bang Theory and Castle. There are a bunch of other shows I really enjoy, but hubby and I always seem to keep caught up on these. Oh, and that's the other thing I love to do. My most favorite thing in the world is hanging out with my hubby, daughter, and kitty.
At the moment I'm taking part in NaNoWriMo. I love taking part in NaNo because it's a time of the year when a collective number of writers around the world are all writing at the same time. Trying to get 50,000 words written in one month isn't a new thing for me. I get totally consumed while writing the first draft of a story, and don't let my inner editor get in the way—that's for the revision process. I just write, write, and write some more, until the story’s done.
It's all about getting the story outta my head and onto Word.
I usually have several writing projects going, but at the moment I'm working on a 5-book UF series called Sierra Fox. The first two books are published by Samhain Publishing, and I'm waiting to hear about the third. Fingers crossed. Plus, I'm writing the fourth right now and already plotting the fifth. I'm having a lot of fun with this world, so it'll be sad when it's done.
Well, that's it from me. I hope you enjoyed reading a little bit about me. Don't be shy, introduce yourself. I'd love to meet you!
Thanks for reading,
Yolanda
AUTHOR BIO:
Wife. Mother. Writer. Bibliophile. Dreamer. Animal lover. Intrigued by the supernatural. Horror freak. Zombie enthusiast. Movie & music fan. Slave to her muse.
Yolanda lives in Sydney, Australia with her awesome husband, lovely daughter, and cheeky cat.
Website: http://www.yolandasfetsos.com/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/yolandasfetsosGoodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/yolandasfetsos
November 27, 2012
New Writer's Week: Taryn Kincaid
Yeah, so…I’m not exactly new. My third and fourth novellas, LIGHTNINGand THUNDERwere released from Decadent Publishing last month.
Also…for fifteen years or so, I actually had a paying job as a writer. I was a newspaper reporter and columnist and right under my name, every time something was engraved in newsprint, there it was: “Staff Writer.” And that gig paid my way through graduate school, which landed me my current job.So there you have it: Writing romance novels is not my job. Writing romance novels does not pay my mortgage or my grocery bills. It does not keep me in clothes and shoes and jewelry or mocha frappucinos. It often costs more, in dues and swag and conferences and promotion and related expenses than it brings in. It’s a glorified hobby. And will be until the day it actually begins to pay my way. If you are truly a newbie writer with stars in your eyes and visions of The New York Times bestseller list dancing like sugar plums in your head, that probably shocks you.
If you are a struggling almost newbie or a struggling four- novella author, it will not. (There are a few notable exceptions to this. A longtime friend and chaptermate is one of those rare exceptions that proves the rule. But even she struggled long and hard and paid many years of dues until success recognized her for the wonderful writer she is and leapt up and plucked her out of obscurity. A lot of people think this all happened overnight. I happen to know that it didn’t. And I suspect there are a number of editors and publishers now kicking themselves.)
But that’s not my story. My story is this: Writing romance novels may not be my full-time job. It may be only a glorified hobby. But it’s also kind of an avocation. Something I feel called to do. Something I have pretty much always felt called—even compelled—to do. Something I occasionally MUST do. That I feel a vague sense of discontent if I am not doing, or if I am not doing it right.
You’ve probably heard that publishing is a business. Well, it is. It’s not the part I particularly like. Writing blog posts, not one of those things my inner angels and devils nag at me to do. Especially when I am embroiled in another business that saps a lot of my energy but enables me to make car payments and keep the cable company happy in exchange.
But sometimes you get one of those fanciful notions—sometimes people call them “plot bunnies”—and it will grab hold of you and refuse to let you go. That’s the part I like. SLEEPY HOLLOW DREAMS, my erotic paranormal romance for The Wild Rose Press and HEALING HEARTS, my Regency romance for Carina Press, were kinda like that.
(Many writers—maybe even most writers—will tell you not to believe a word of this. Yeah, that’s okay, too.)
And I will tell you this: Neither LIGHTNINGnor THUNDER, my two new 1Night Stand stories for Decadent Publishing were hard-slogging struggles, as were many of the heart-squeezer manuscripts of mine that have never seen the light of day or the moon of night. Both LIGHTNING and THUNDERwere fun and quick and easy to write. And, I hope you’ll agree, both are fun and quick and easy to read. You can be the judge of that.
THUNDERblurb:Lonely young witch, Veronica Hardwicke, has struggled to get on with her life after the death of the elderly husband who’d left her a fortune and a sprawling estate in mystical Sleepy Hollow. When frightening things go bump in the night on a stormy Fourth of July, who better to call than the sexy developer and contractor, Sean Jones, who's been renovating her mansion for months?
Sean may grace the tabloid pages with a different supermodel on his arm every night, but it's Veronica who drives him nuts. Ignoring his instinct to stay away, he answers her summons.
Will the thundering passion of their 1Night Stand tear down the barriers between them?
THUNDERexcerpt:
Veronica paced back and forth in the grand entry foyer of the Belmont mansion, the kitten heels of her Prada mules clacking on the marble floors.The rest of the place might not be finished, but she’d insisted on having a few rooms completed, so at least she felt like she was living in a home, rather than a massive, never-ending construction project. Well, her contractor had insisted, even though working around the main entrance and central hallway created more work for him and his crew. But she was forced to admit he was right.Her cell phone chimed on top of the antique credenza shoved flush against one wall. She leaped for it. Probably Geneviève, to regale her with all the fun she was having in Paris. Or Sean, to advise her he couldn’t make it after all. She sighed and read the text message on the small screen.Congratulations, Veronica. 1Night Stand has found your date. Have a good time.With both anxiety and mounting excitement, she stared at the screen and waited. No other info. Outside in the night, thunder boomed. She jumped then laughed at herself.Ghosts are one thing, but freaking out at the weather now? Cripes, you really do need this date!She let her imagination run wild, then texted back for more details: When? Where? Who?An insistent pounding at the front door jarred her out of her fantasy. She swung the door open on another explosive crack of thunder.Sean stood on her doorstep, his soaked T-shirt molding sculpted pecs and abs, his drenched hair flattened over his brow. Rain poured down as he fiddled with his iPhone, a bemused expression on his face. Behind him, jagged arrows of lightning tore the dark sky. He glared at the screen, glanced at her in confusion, then back at the screen.Veronica’s own phone pinged again. Thunder roared. She read the message in disbelief.You’re looking at him. ***
Amazon | Barnes&Noble | Decadent Publishing | All Romance | Smashwords| Book Strand Check out the THUNDER video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uWB9zh... ***
Talk to me and I’ll send a random commenter something good. Maybe even an ebook. You can look for me for me on my blog, Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, Amazon and elsewhere. I love hearing from you!
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