Beth D. Carter's Blog, page 25

New Release from Lacee Hightower!

Blurb:

What’s a person to do when they discover everything they’ve believed is nothing but lies?

I grew up wealthy, a spoiled rich kid some would say, blessed with a natural athletic physique and erotic good looks that could get me into the panties of just about any girl I set my mind to.



I wanted … what I wanted.



And that meant one thing: the beautiful brunette from study hall—but she left me high and dry.



Today, I have a heart made of stone.  I’m angry, a professed lifelong bachelor, and a sexual sadist.



My soul is a cold river.



Eight years later, she’s back in my life and holding secrets that are ruthless, unforgiveable.



I want to punish her, make her cry, watch her suffer.  I want to hate her for what she’s done.



But I want my hands on her.



Mine.  All mine.



I simply want … Ava Montgomery.



Warning:  This title contains explicit sex scenes, BDSM, and anal sex







Excerpt:
 I ached for him with such a depth that it was a visceral kind of pain. I wanted his hands on me, touching me everywhere, taking me to that place I’d fantasized about for years.
“It’s your decision, doll.”
“Are you going to tear up my butt? Leave bloody marks on my back? Ruin my nipples? Are you…” My voice faded into silence as I stared at his focused expression that was so sure, so certain, his eyes that sent shimmers down my spine, his body that made me cave with pleasure every time it came near me. Heat flowed through my veins. “Yes. God, yes. I want to know everything. I want you to…”
Before I finished the words that were caught in my throat, his lips were on mine, crushing his mouth against me with a scorching kiss that felt like he was ravenous. His hands twisted fiercely through my hair, my body arching into him as he licked into me, purging deep, kissing me for long minutes like he wanted me more than any one thing in his existence. 
I wanted this so badly that it hurt.
His lips fell to the sweet spot just underneath my ear. “You wouldn’t happen to still have that blindfold by any chance?”
Another whimper rose up my throat as I collapsed into his chest, turning to soft liquid and ceding in submission.
Of course, I still had the blindfold. I’d stared at it a dozen times. Fantasized about what it would feel like being bound, in the dark, his hands on me, oblivious to his next move, and if all my daydreams were a reality … or a fool’s paradise.
“Yes,” I breathed, captivated.
“Grab it, kitten. And follow me.”
Blistering heat flooded my core as he trailed kisses across my neck.
“And, Ava,” he added in a hard tone, “before the night ends, my marks will be all over you.”
Buy Links:
Evernight:  https://www.evernightpublishing.com/intrigue-me-by-lacee-hightower/
Amazon:  https://amazon.com/dp/B07SSYJTQK
Books2read(Universal link):  https://books2read.com/u/bQ6qAd




About the Author:
Lacee Hightower is an American writer and romance novelist, referring to her style as contemporary romance with a nice big pinch of kink.  Living in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex, she describes herself as a foodie that can’t cook, a large lover of fashion and shoes, and an enormous hopeless romantic.  Since she was old enough to know what the word meant, she loved the whole concept of romance and happy endings. Even though she has always enjoyed writing, life got in the way and she never really thought of pursuing it seriously until she decided to write her first book after both her children were grown in 2017.  Now with a nice glass of wine in hand, or not, she is learning to love bringing the characters in her head to life on paper for those who enjoy peeking into another world.


Social Media Links:
Facebook:  Facebook
 Twitter:   Twitter
Instagram:  Instagram
Website:   laceehightower.com
BookBub:   Bookbub




 Intrigue Me (Tangled Pleasures) An Erotic Romance Novel by Lacee Hightower Publisher:  Evernight Publishing Release Date:  June 11, 2019

The Evernighties Blog Challenge Week 24

Item I Can't Live Without
I'm going to go with the word "item" in this challenge, because there are obviously people I can't live without. My son is one. My husband is another. I never want to imagine life without them.

So if we're focusing on an item, there are a few. Chapstick is one. I absolutely can not stand when my lips are dry. Drives me batty. I probably have a dozen Chapsticks lying around my home, one in each coat and jacket pocket. I must have Chapstick. My favorite is peppermint because it seems to last the longest, although I don't like the taste of peppermint. Ironic, eh?

The other item I can't live without is something to write with and paper. Stories are constantly in my head and I might go mad if I can't write them down. I would've said laptop, but I have to think about the battery dying.

What if I'm on a deserted island by myself? Then I would say a satellite phone so I can call for rescue.

What if it's the zombie apocalypse? Then weapons, of course. Something that doesn't need bullets because you'll run out of those.

What if it's the end of the world? Books. Something I don't mind reading over and over again. I would be the person who went on quests to find new books to read.

What if I'm at the end of my life? Then a kiss from the people I love. I wouldn't mind taking a kiss from them into the afterlife. To know I'm loved and will be missed is all a person can ask for at the end of their life.

**Make sure to check out the other Evernighties blog posts!

Wednesday's Writers Block Exercise - Week 23

Got Writer’s Block?

Yeah, it happens to the best of us.  Life gets in the way and your brain is taken in another direction and before you know it, it’s been days or weeks since you last looked at that book you’re trying to write.  You’ve forgotten little details.  What eye color did you give your hero?  What town was your heroine born in?  Perhaps you need to jumpstart your creative mojo, and that's what this series is designed for. Not to explain writer's block, but to help you move in a different direction.



In romance the hero can't really be alone by himself because the love interest has to grow and build through the story. But the story I'm writing now, I've isolated my hero and heroine in an underground bunker, separated from everyone and completely off the grid.

I plan for my hero to go a little crazy because all he knows is technology. And now he's got nothing to work with.

This is a great opportunity for me to put myself in someone else's shoes. As the writer, I'm able to control my emotions because I'm the architect of the story. However, what would I do if I was in the bunker, unable to call for help? I wouldn't be calm, that's for sure.

It can be fun and exciting plopping your hero or heroine into a situation either on their own or out of their comfort zone. I look forward seeing how my own hero gets out of this situation.



#23 Lose the Cavalry Take away the allies and support. Leave your hero to fend for himself.

>List three ways a person could get help in this situation, then list ways to prevent it.


> Maybe your hero is the cavalry. How could she fail to come to the aid of an ally? What are the consequences?

> Go ahead and send the cavalry - but at a cost. Perhaps the recuers are worse than the original enemies.





If your hero can easily call for help, the stakes won't be very high. So take away her lifeline. No parents, no mentors, no 911.

Or set up the expectation that help is on the way, but then prevent it. Perhaps the reinforcements are stuck in a blizzard. The police show up at the wrong address. The replacement wedding dress is destroyed by ferrets. 

Force your hero to figure this out for herself.





Happy Writing!


***John August designed these cards to help writers fix plot holes, spice up stock characters and
rethink your themes.  They, of course, do not guarantee you’ll get published or that you’ll become the next J.K. Rowling, and of course they are only a tool to help you think outside the box. I make no monetary gain with them nor do I expect anything in return.  I do not own the contents in these cards. If you're interested in them, here's the amazon link: https://www.amazon.com/Writer-Emergency-Pack/dp/B00R6ZLIOY/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1502046610&sr=8-2&keywords=john+august 

Q & A with Elyzabeth M Valey!

Hello Elyzabeth!  Thank you so much for visiting Written Butterfly with me today!  It’s such a pleasure to chat with you.  So tell me…



Q) Is your book part of a series?  If so, can you tell us about it?  



Thank you for having me! Yes, it is. Open is book one of the Lust, Love, and Darkness series. It will be a three book BDSM series, featuring characters who shared a common, traumatic past, and must now rediscover the pleasures of BDSM.

 

Q) Do you have a favorite book you’ve written?



I love all the books I’ve written but I seem to have developed a soft spot for The Beauty of Forever,  my vampire Christmas story. I’m just in love with Christopher, the hero.

 

Q) Do you write in a linear fashion or do you jump from scene to scene and then go back and “fill in the blanks”?



Hum. A bit of both really. Lately I find myself writing in a more linear fashion, but I’ve also written inspiring scenes and then built the story from there.



Q) Do you want each book to stand on its own, or are you trying to build a body of work with connections between each book?



When I write a series, I try to make them so that each one stands on its own and readers can pick up any book in the series and feel as if they’re not missing out on anything big.



Q) What are your upcoming projects?



I’ve just signed a contract with Evernight Publishing for book 4 of the Alpha Protectors series, titled, Killian’s Hope , and I’m working on book 2 of Lust, Love and Darkness, which will be Becky’s story. (She is mentioned in Open).






One day she’d be his.

Almost a decade ago, Marcus Grimes worked as a bodyguard to a man who didn’t deserve the woman he’d had. When she finally left, Marcus vowed to eventually find her and make her his.

The time is now.

Marcus runs into Gabi at a BDSM club, indulging in a different partner every week but never really exploring beyond the mere superficial. She doesn’t remember him, and he convinces her to give him a chance.

All she has to do is open.
After leaving an abusive relationship, Gabi moved cities and reinvented herself. Now, she’s confident and capable of playing with any Dom she sees fit without compromising herself or her emotions.

Until she meets Marcus Grimes.

There is something familiar about him, which should have stopped her, but instead spurs her on, and before she realizes it, Marcus is not only opening her body to his exploration, he’s also delving into her heart.

However, when their mutual past comes to light and everything she’s fought for during the last eight years is jeopardized, will she close herself off again or will she give love an opportunity?

Be Warned: BDSM, flogging, sex toys
Buy now:
Amazon  ~  Evernight  ~  Smashwords  ~  Kobo  ~  Nook~  Bookstrand





Excerpt:


Marcus sipped at his soda, wishing it were something stronger so his libido would subside. Who was he kidding? Looking at her would get him aroused regardless of the amounts of alcohol he drank.


She was perfect. Everything he’d ever fantasized about: luscious curves, ample bottom, tits which would fit his hands, and a mouth made for sucking and screaming out his name.

Gabi. Her last name was of no consequence. Neither was her first name. Years ago, he’d known her as Abby. What mattered was that when he made her his, he’d refer to her as “kitten”. He’d called her it once, by accident. The term had come naturally. Back then, she had been vulnerable, small, like an abandoned pet. Now, however, he stood in the presence of a different type of cat. She was graceful, strong, seductive.


Unfortunately, unlike cats, which tended to be more snobbish when it came to choosing an owner, Gabi played with just about everyone. She was a regular at the BDSM club where he’d found her. One night, he’d see her getting a spanking, the next, a caning, and another day, she was being whipped. There didn’t seem to be anything Gabi wouldn’t try, except sticking with the same partner. She had a different Dom every weekend, playing with them at a distance, never really giving in to the experience. He knew why, and he was determined to change it. Starting tonight.


Currently, she was tied to the Saint Andrew’s cross, and Master Eric was giving her a good flogging. The Dom played her like an instrument, knowing exactly where to hit to make her skin tingle but not bruise. Marcus scowled. When they played, he’d make sure to mark her so every time she sat down, she would remember him and how her body had yielded to her Dom’s touch.


Marcus downed the last of his drink and moved closer to the cross. It’d been close to eight years since he’d last seen her. Eight years. He sometimes thought they had been wasted years, but deep down, he knew they hadn’t. After what she’d gone through, she’d needed the time to heal and become the person she was now.


In all that time, he’d never stopped wanting her. He’d been incapable of erasing her from his mind even after he’d lost track of her whereabouts. And then, fate had thrown her in his path. He’d finally decided to join the BDSM community in the city, and he’d found her. Here of all places. In his city.


One look at her and he’d made up his mind. Gabi would be his. Permanently this time. He’d bided his time, investigating her present, trying to find out more about who she was today. Every weekend for the past month, he’d come to the club and watched her. He’d leave with a hard-on and a desperate craving to claim her.


Tonight would be different. Eric was almost done, each stroke of the flogger turning into a caress until it came to a full stop. Gabi shuddered and hung her head. Marcus stiffened. Was she okay? Eric seemed to think the same because he hurried forward and whispered in her ear. Gabi nodded. Eric chuckled. Giving her ass a light tap, he began to undo the restraints.


Marcus clenched his fists. Soon, he’d be the only one spanking Gabi’s behind. He waited patiently for them to finish. His heart hammered in his chest, and sweat gathered at his nape. He hadn’t been so on edge in years.


Finally, Gabi became free and turned around. Marcus’s breath caught. She wasn’t naked, but she didn’t need to be to get his dick hardening. He focused on her mouth. Wide with plump lips. How many times had he fantasized about having them around his dick? Fucking her mouth. Marcus swallowed a groan.


Soon.


Eric blocked his view, stepping in front of Gabi to give her a hug. She smiled politely, but there was no affection in her gaze. She was merely being civil. Marcus smirked. They wouldn’t end their sessions with a friendly pat. Finally, Eric left. Before Gabi could also leave, Marcus approached her. She saw him coming, her gaze narrowing and her lips parting into a coquettish smirk. He couldn’t wait to make it sincere.


“Gabi?”


“That’s me. What can I call you, handsome?”


“Marcus will do for now.”


She pouted, feigning disappointment.


“Shame, I thought you were a Dom.”


Marcus grinned. “I am.”


“And you don’t want me to call you Sir or Master? Do you prefer Daddy?” She ran her fingertips across his forearm making goosebumps sprout on his flesh. Marcus pulled away.


“If the men you’ve been playing with require you call them Sir after barely ten seconds of interaction, you’ve been hanging around the wrong people.”


She shrugged, her gaze dipping then just as quickly meeting his again.


“So, why are we having this conversation, Marcus?”


“I would like to play with you.”


Gabi quirked an eyebrow. “And you don’t want me to call you ‘Sir’?”


“Not yet.”


“Well, I’m done for today, so maybe next time,”


He grabbed her wrist. Her eyes blazed.


“Release me.”


“In a minute, kitten.”


“Don’t call me that. I didn’t give you the right.”


“Forgive me,” Marcus apologized. “You’re right.” He stepped into her personal space, forcing her to tilt her head to look at him even though she wasn’t much shorter. “You have to understand, Gabi, I don’t want to play with you right now. I want to get to know you a bit before I make you kneel at my feet, open up that pretty little mouth of yours and stuff it with my cock until you gag.”







Available at:
Amazon
Evernight
Smashwords
Kobo
Nook
Bookstrand




About Elyzabeth M. VaLey

Elyzabeth M. VaLey is a writer of sizzling, sexy romance who firmly believes in happy ever after.  From paranormal to contemporary, fantasy, or historical, she enjoys exploring her characters' darker side and writing stories about tortured heroes, strong heroines, and all that comes between them and their love.


When she's not writing, she can be found walking in the Spanish countryside with her black Lab, exploring castles, or enjoying some tapas with her friends. 
Follow her at:

Blog
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram (@elyzabethm.valey)
Goodreads
Pinterest 
Amazon

A Wonderful Interview with Raven McAllan!

Hello Raven!  Thank you so much for visiting Written Butterfly with me today!  It’s such a pleasure to chat with you.  So tell me…

Q) Is your book part of a series?  If so, can you tell us about it?

Hi, Thanks for inviting me. The Viscount meets His Match is a stand alone Regency romance, which came about when a hero I wanted to write about just didn’t fit into the series I was writing. So I gave in and let him have his way. I say a standalone but I can see some other characters lining up to be written about. Watch this space as they say.

Q) How do you select the names of your characters?

I research what names were popular in the era and then somehow one or two will jump out at me. This time though, David and Josephine are friends whose names fitted perfectly, and were really pleased to have some regency namesakes. Even their surnames fitted the time.

Q) Where do you get your information or ideas for your books?

I love research and the nuances of the aristocracy of the Regency era fascinate me. It’s so much fun to discover what boundaries were crossed, and how much I can push the boundaries and still be true to the time. And of course there are some things we just don’t know about, so I can use my imagination.

Q) What are your upcoming projects?

Takes a deep breath

 Well, I have quite a lot on the go. Apart from a book due out soon, which the lovely Doris O’Connor and I plotted before she passed, due in July, there’s another Regency on the go, a Regency hottish one due in August, (both from Evernight Publishing) and my softer sweeter side, Katy Lilley has to get stuck into a new wip. That’s one set in Devon England, and I’m really looking forward to writing it. Then of course I need to do the next book in the current Regency series for Totally Bound. The working tittle is the Duke and the Dancer. I floundered for a while after Doris died, but I can hear her telling me to get on with it. So I am.




Blurb…
How to persuade the lady your interest is genuine? No easy task. Has the viscount met his match, or can he win and claim a wife?What do you do when your father has no faith in you?

Ignore him.
David, Suddards’ father assumes—wrongly—that David gambles deep and has had an affair with a married lady before she has given her husband an heir. Enraged, his father issues an ultimatum. Marry within three months or lose everything that is not entailed.
David refuses. If that’s what his father thinks of him, he can go to the devil. He will marry when he is ready and not before.
What a shock then, a year later, when the one woman he is interested in shows no interest in him!
It’s up to him to persuade her he’s the right husband for her, and when he does…sparks fly. Can these two strong-willed people ever learn how to compromise and find that in fact they are the perfect match?


Totally Bound Publishing: https://www.totallybound.com/book/the-viscount-meets-his-match
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Viscount-Meets-his-Match-Regency-ebook/dp/B07QPNRX2R/ref=sr_1_3?crid=2KS0AFJESP4W4&keywords=the+viscount+meets+his+match+-+raven+mcallan&qid=1559497101&s=gateway&sprefix=the+viscount+meets+his+%2Caps%2C193&sr=8-3


A wee tease…


England, 1817How good that five minutes in his father’s presence no longer had the power to make him feel a criminal. Or ready to commit a criminal act of some sort, probably patricide. His father’s antagonism toward his son seemed to strengthen over the years, and David’s contempt for the man had increased in proportion to it.
For that matter, David pondered, why did his father, as usual, automatically assume he was up to no good? Luckily their meetings were few and far between. He’ only answered the demand he attend his family’s ancestral home because his solicitor had suggested it might be a good idea to discover what was afoot.
There were, Simmons, his solicitor, had told him, rumors that a large number of acres could potentially be for sale not far from David’s present home in Yorkshire. As most of that land was Midham land—land belonging to the dukedom—it was cause for concern. Add to that the missive delivered by a liveried footman demanding David attend Midham, or else there would be severe consequences, and David had reluctantly decided he had best see what his parent was up to.
Perhaps it had been petty to stay in his country home the night before and arrive exactly on time at his ancestral home. He knew fine well his papa would have expected him to arrive at Midham the previous day, or to put up in the nearest inn, where no doubt news would be passed back to the duke of his son’s whereabouts.
Instead David had spent the last few days at Caldborough, and driven the couple of hours needed to arrive at Midham in time to leave his equipage in the stables and hand his cane and hat to Sleights, the major-domo, as the longcase clock struck eleven. A time chosen, he assumed, because most ‘men about town’—even in the countryside—would still be abed. It showed his father had no concept of how David led his life. It was rare he stayed in bed after nine. He preferred to be up and about his business before his peers were around to see what he was involved in. Plus, of course, out of the city there was time to have a good gallop and still be around to attend to any duties or excursions planned for the day.
“Bloody listen to me,” his father shouted. “Act your age.”
Does he even know my age, I wonder?
David bowed. The sooner his parent said his piece, the sooner he would know what this was all about and could leave. “As you wish. You perceive me all ears.”
Had there been a meeting—or a summons—since he was out of short coats, or even before, when his father didn’t accuse him of some misdemeanor or other? He didn’t think so. One reason he kept out of the man’s way whenever possible.
“Bloody rakehell.” His father snarled the words. “I won’t stand for it, you hear me? You’re still not too old for a whipping.”
On cue, the thin scars across his back began to ache. David strove to keep his expression indifferent and ignore the reminder of how his father preferred to deal with anything his son did that he didn’t agree with. Which was, David mused as he attempted to keep a blank face, most things.
From the first time, when David as a five-year-old wouldn’t eat the slimy milk pudding his nanny had thought would be good for him, his father had never spared the rod. Whenever he thought David acted in a way that was against what the duke wanted, punishment would be swift, and merciless. School reports, silly childish acts such as scrumping for apples, to playing cards with the stable lads. All were dealt with in the same way.
Sometimes he had wondered if his father enjoyed giving out punishment, if the elder man obtained some satisfaction from inflicting pain on someone unable to defend themselves. It certainly seemed so.
Until the last time, when—
“Are you listening, damn it? Enough is enough. I won’t be made a laughingstock by you.”
David, Lord Suddards, Viscount Lyttlethorp, the heir to the Duke of Midham—the man who sat in an overlarge, overstuffed chair and glared at his son—ignored the ache, flicked an imaginary speck of lint from his immaculate jacket and inspected his fingernails. Something which would no doubt infuriate his father and be one more thing to add to the older man’s list of grievances.
David was under no illusions about how his sire regarded him, or that the man would eventually inform him what had brought him to such ire. It was a mystery why he behaved in such a manner, and one David could no longer be bothered to solve. He suspected that even if he came clean about his activities, his papa would choose to disbelieve him. It would seem easier to him than to accept he was in the wrong about his so-called errant child, among other things.
The man was an unsympathetic husband, terrible parent, out and out bully—perhaps akin to an unmitigated sadist—and uncaring landlord. His estates, estates David would presumably one day inherit, were in a poor way. The tenants and workers were housed in little more than hovels and, after years of poor maintenance, his lands yielded very little. Some workers were hard-pressed to put food on the table, or stop their windows and roofs leaking. Windows and roofs the estate was supposed to keep in working order. None of which seemed to bother the duke, but did bother his son. David had, when possible, helped out without his parent knowing, but he was conscious it was too little and probably too late. By the time the dukedom was his it would be nigh on worthless. No wonder he had nothing but contempt for his father.
Over the years David had learned not to expect any quarter from the man. Even his mother, whom he doted on, had never truly been able to stick up for her son against her martinet of a husband. David had once asked her if his papa had always been the way he was and been told yes. When he’d questioned his mama about why she had married his papa, she’d told him her parents had wished it, and it was the done thing to obey them. You had to do what your parents demanded. David wasn’t so sure.
“I’ll rein you in, if it’s the last thing I do,” the duke snarled at his only son. “Once a rake isn’t going to be always a rake in your case.”
How very true. Little did his father know. Even so, David still remained silent. What he got up to was no one’s business but his own, and those it involved.
“Look at you, sitting there and not giving me the attention I’m due.” He struck his hand on the arm of the chair with such force, David wouldn’t have been surprised to see the material split and the stuffing pop out.
“It’s a pity I can’t take my crop to you and beat some sense into your thick skull.” The duke glowered. “Not that I’m sure it would do any good, but I’d have a damned good go.”
You could try but it would be the last thing you would ever do. As he had no inclination to flee to the continent as a man wanted for patricide, David held his tongue.
“Your sisters now, they never give me or your mama a moment’s worry. You? Never a moment’s peace. What’s this about, eh? Riding bareback down St. James, for heaven’s sake? What on earth were you thinking of? St. James of all places! I had to tell ’em you were nauseated. Ill, feverish. No idea what you were doing. And then off to La Calverly’s. Gaming there. Uncouth to say the least. How much did you dip, may I ask? Don’t think I’ll bail you out, my lad, because I will not.”
David said nothing. At the age of thirty-five he was no lad, had no intention of asking his father to do anything of the kind and was not about to reveal his personal affairs to his parent. Not any type of affair.
“Bad ton. Not to be thought about,” the duke said irascibly. “And now? Now this scandal.” He invested the word scandal with disgust and scorn as his voice rose. “How dare you? This family will not be ridiculed because of you. Enough is enough. Time to toe the line or else.”
David stood impassively—he hadn’t been invited to sit—and waited to discover what else his father had decided to lay at his feet. As far as he was aware, there was nothing he’d done to be ashamed of in years.
“Who you take after I have no idea,” the elder man said. “Must be from your mother’s side. No Suddards is so rackety. I save my money, my lad, and so should you. I know we have to sow our wild oats, everyone does. Ha, even I did, but no one of good ton would ever dream of sowing them in fertile ground before the crop owner.”
What on earth was he talking about? David raised one eyebrow, and decided it was time to speak. “Do go on and enlighten me. I fear my mind must be befuddled, I have no clue as to what you are referring to.” He hadn’t sown anything anywhere for a good six months. He’d been too busy doing his best to save his father’s tenants from starvation. These days, his rakish title was far from the truth.
“Balderdash. Lady Whitcombe, of course. Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes. What were you thinking, eh? To give her a slip on the shoulder is not what is expected before she’s done her duty to her husband, and well you know it.”
“What?” Davis was startled into surprise. Fanny Whitcombe had never interested him and he’d told her so in no uncertain terms, when, after he and his last mistress had parted amicably, Fanny had intimated she was ready to take that lady’s place. Was that why she had chosen him as scapegoat?
“I assure you I have never been anywhere near the lady, and if—” He didn’t get a chance to finish his statement before his parent cut him off with a slash of his hand in the air. David mentally shrugged. It seemed, as ever, he’d been tried and condemned before he could put his side of the story forward.
“No more!” His father roared the words. “I have it from Whitcombe himself. His wife is increasing and it is not his. Increasing before she’s done her duty. The disgrace. He’s sent her to the country, of course, but I had a devil of a job to persuade him not to call you out. Said I’d deal with you.”
David kept his mouth shut. When his papa was ranting, it was best to let him continue until he ranted himself out. David glanced at the mantel clock. On recent showing he had around another ten minutes to go. He bit his lip as his father spat into the fireless grate and spoke.
“What do you say for yourself, eh?”
David shrugged. “It is interesting to perceive how you believe my upbringing would let me do such a thing.” That it was a slight to his father, he doubted the man would understand.
“Well, enough is enough, my boy.” To his surprise his papa stood, glared, harrumphed and pulled on the bell rope. “You’ll see.” The duke once more sat down in the chair he always used and didn’t invite David to follow suit. David sighed quietly and looked idly out of the window. The early, summer morning sunshine sent shadows dancing over the lawns that rolled away down to the lake where three swans glided regally over the still water. A beautiful setting, but one he felt divorced from. Midham might be his ancestral home, but it wasn’t welcoming to him. His papa had made sure of that. David visited as little as possible and tried, not always with success, to meet his mama elsewhere.
As he waited to discover what was to come, David thought of how he had really spent that last night a week ago. Yes, he’d ridden a horse bareback down St. James. The horse, not him. He’d found the saddle- and bridle-less gelding trotting along Piccadilly and deemed it best to get it into the safely of his own stables until the owner could be found. As the animal had been skittish he’d taken the most direct route there. He hadn’t recognized the gelding and still had no idea to whom the animal belonged If it had been involved in a scandal of some kind, the scandal had been successfully hushed up. No accidents had been reported. It was a mystery, and one he suspected would remain so. He’d give it a month and send the horse to his country home.
As for Lady Calverly’s salon—it was expected of him, and some things he had to be seen to do. The fact he had lost money was all to the good. It was, if his papa had known it, a drop in the ocean, and he always eventually came out even or ahead. He was a canny and skilled player and knew when to stop. But Lady Whitcombe was one step too far, and he had no idea how to prove his innocence. It was as well he had no intention of explaining his actions to his father or indeed anyone. He saw his chances of retiring to Caldborough, his more modest country home, after he departed from the ducal seat, disappearing before his eyes. He’d need to return to London and discover what the hell was going on.
His father stared impatiently toward the door. When it eventually opened and his mother entered, David jumped. What now? Rarely did his parents get together to face him. In truth, rarely did they get together at all unless society dictated it. A nasty itch slithered across his spine and his cravat threatened to strangle him. David forced himself not to run his fingers between the material and his skin as he accepted the next few minutes were likely to be uncomfortable and he wouldn’t like it.
He looked at his father’s closed face and his mother’s sympathetic one and decided it wasn’t worth defending himself.
“So, to that end, you will marry within three months or I will sell off everything un-entailed and make sure you get none of the money to waste. There’s a list of likely candidates on the desk here.” The duke picked up a sheet of paper and thrust it at David. “Choose one and put your house in order. I tell you now, if you do not do as I say, you’ll regret it. Most of my land is not entailed so don’t you go thinking you’ll be wealthy once I kick the bucket. I’ll not have it.” The duke thumped his chair arm emphatically. “And don’t go crawling to your mama. She is with me in this.”
The duchess nodded. “It has to be said and done. You need to grow up and settle down, my son.”
David raised one eyebrow. “In that case, there is no more to be discussed.” He bowed to them both punctiliously and turned toward the door. “Oh, and this is what you can do with your list.” He tore it into tiny pieces and dropped them over his father. How he controlled his rising ire, he had no idea. Nevertheless, he held his increasing temper in check, knowing he needed to get out of the room before he really disgraced himself and told his parents what he thought of their lack of trust. It would do no good, they wouldn’t listen—or believe any protestations of innocence. They had decided to be judge and jury and find him guilty. “I bid you farewell.”
“Oh no you don’t,” the duke said. “I need to hear your response.”
Did he? Were the scraps of paper that decorated his shoulders and lap not enough? Then in that case he would spell it out. David swung around and looked from his worried mother to his red-faced father. “Go to the devil,” he said clearly. “You do not know me. You never have.”
On that he walked out of their lives.

Raven’s Bio…
A multi-published author of erotic romance, Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge. As once she is writing she is oblivious to everything else, her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.
She writes dark romance as Kera Faire and rom coms as Katy Lilley

You can find her on Facebook and twitter and at www.ravenmcallan.com



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The Evernighties Blog Challenege Week 23

My Most Memorable Experience
I could write this challenge in different aspects of my life. Personal, professional, writing... I've been so fortunate to have done and achieved so much that it's hard to break down into one memorable experience.

Let me put down my top five (not in any sort of order):

1) Traveling the world. (Countries I've visited: England, Sweden, Finland, France, Spain, Monaco, Italy, Austria, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland, Lichtenstein, Australia & New Zealand. Plus the Vatican, but I'm not sure this is considered a true country).

2) Going back to school and graduating with a degree at the top of my class.

3) Having my first book published.

4) Becoming a mother.

5) Marrying the man of my dreams.

I'm always up for talking about any of these topics, and probably will throughout these blog challenges. Make sure to check out the others in the Evernighties Blog loop!

Wednesday's Writers Block - Week 22

Got Writer’s Block?

Yeah, it happens to the best of us.  Life gets in the way and your brain is taken in another direction and before you know it, it’s been days or weeks since you last looked at that book you’re trying to write.  You’ve forgotten little details.  What eye color did you give your hero?  What town was your heroine born in?  Perhaps you need to jumpstart your creative mojo, and that's what this series is designed for. Not to explain writer's block, but to help you move in a different direction.


When The Walking Dead became popular, there was a burst of books about a zombie apocalypse. I read a few great ones (Jenika Snow, Kylie Scott) and even wrote one under my pen name.

They also provide a great opportunity to let your imagination run wild, because a zombie horde doesn't have to mean the undead. You can set the apocalypse in literally any situation: office, courtroom, military, highschool, etc. Zombies are a great metaphor. The more shit you thrust your protagonist into the better, because the drama writes itself.






#22 Zombie Attack What would your hero do if confronted by a mindless, unstoppable horde?

>Brainstorm some experts your hero could consult. If this happened before, how did
they survive?

> Does the horde have a leader? Is there any way your hero could take over that spot?

> Make it personal. let someone the hero loves join the mob.

> Zombies wants brains. What does your crowd want? If they got it, would they disperse or grow stronger?




"Zombies" don't have to be the walking dead. From soccer hooligans to snotty seniors to social media swarms, there are mobs in every genre. Unlike individual adversaries, crowds can't be confronted or reasoned with. Your hero may need to flee or take shelter - perhaps with other survivors.

Whether real or metaphorical, all zombies have weaknesses, and it's up to your hero to figure out what those are. Perhaps there's even a cure. But finding it won't be easy.





Happy Writing!



***John August designed these cards to help writers fix plot holes, spice up stock characters and
rethink your themes.  They, of course, do not guarantee you’ll get published or that you’ll become the next J.K. Rowling, and of course they are only a tool to help you think outside the box. I make no monetary gain with them nor do I expect anything in return.  I do not own the contents in these cards. If you're interested in them, here's the amazon link: https://www.amazon.com/Writer-Emergency-Pack/dp/B00R6ZLIOY/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1502046610&sr=8-2&keywords=john+august 

The New Book in the Blood Born Series by Lynn Burke!

#MMF #Shifters #Dragons #BDSM #Bisexual #Menage #Contemporary #Romance #HEA


Driven by Dragonblood

Blood Born Series 3
By Lynn Burke
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Release Date: May 28, 2019


*WARNING: This title contains explicit sexual scenes, BDSM, and anal sex.








More dragonblood than human, Primrose Cadet yearns to find her fated mates and ease the loneliness of her secluded life. But with her beta behind psychiatric bars and the other denying his beastly nature—and hers—she’ll have to fight for them, even if it means exposing her heritage.

A manipulative voice in his head promising he can fly landed Jaxon Denham in the psych ward. Eighteen and legally allowed to finally leave his parent’s enforced prison, he searches out the golden goddess of his dreams, the one the voice within claims will give them the release they crave.

Doctor Patrick Macaire fought his inner darkness for thirty-four years, living a life of self-control and discipline to prove his sanity. When a barely legal boy and seductive siren threaten the foundation of his calm existence, he’s driven to battle the voice inside and remain untouched.

But fate is clever, and Patrick’s relentless mates won’t allow him peace, catching him up in unhuman-like passion that threatens his self-identity. Will he accept he’s an alpha dragonblood born to dominate his mates, or will his human side keep the three from fulfilling their destiny.


PURCHASE LINKS:Evernight Publishing 25% SALE: https://www.evernightpublishing.com/driven-by-dragonblood-by-lynn-burke

Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/DRIVENBYDRAGONBLOOD

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/driven-by-dragonblood-lynn-burke/1131766341

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/driven-by-dragonblood

SCRIBD: https://www.scribd.com/book/411663768/Driven-by-Dragonblood

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/941221





EXCERPTThe second night I’d stood cloaked outside Lockwood’s eastern wing, the need to be impulsive, something I’d never dealt with before, fought my better judgment. Regardless of my beta’s mental state, I had wanted to sneak into his room and allow him to have his way with me, claim me like my inner dragon longed for.
Luckily, my ancestors had kept informative records in the cavern’s library of my sheltered upbringing, so I understood all the possible sexual positions—and means of giving pain for pleasure—as most alpha blood born were known for. Unfortunately, I had no personal knowledge of such things, and my dragon was determined to undermine my will to wait for his freedom.

My fingers ached from grasping the chain-link fence to keep my human form in place. The energy linking me to the window strengthened and pulled taut as a shadow moved into view. Even with my dragon sight, I couldn’t make out the color of his hair or eyes, but as he turned his head side to side as though seeking out where the energy attaching us came from, I took note of a strong nose and full lips, a square jaw I wanted to lick and nip with my teeth as he thrust into me.

Arousal, hot and wet, rose between my thighs, same as the previous night, and I bit my lips, my dragon’s needy growl rumbling in my chest as my beta locked his gaze on where I stood, cloaked by a dragonblood gift and darkness.

Want.

My human form wanted, too, and I swallowed as my dragon attempted to take over in a burst of golden light I quickly squashed. “Soon,” I promised with a whisper.

Through the tall, barred windows, I realized my beta’s hand moved over his body, the heat in the energy linking us rising. Did he touch himself? He propped his forehead on the window, shoulder hunched as though in pain, and again, I fought the need to shift, tear through the fence and walls to free my beta mate.

His form stiffened, and head tipped back, and the most luscious race of tingles swept through me, settling in my core.

Need.

Lower lip between my teeth, I released one hand from its hold and slid my fingertips down over the front of my leggings where I throbbed. I gasped as the feather touch grazed the hardened nub at the top of my slit, and I rubbed back up over it, my hips bucking on their own as though he thrust into me, burying against my womb.

Heat exploded like a blinding light through the energy between us, capturing my human form and my inner dragon in a euphoric race to the stars. I cried out, unable to keep my lips sealed as wave after wave rippled through my body, pulsing my pussy where his hard length ought to be.

I gasped for breath, my stare on the window as he slowly moved away from sight seconds later. Wetness coated my leggings, the sweet scent of my cum rising to fill my nose.

Please.

My dragon whimpered with the need for more, for our beta’s physical touch, but I tore myself away from the fence and focused on the motel’s room where I would plan my silent, cloaked assault on the mental hospital where one of my mates remained locked inside.

I would free him come morning—or die trying to.

© Lynn Burke 2018









Blood Born SeriesBook 1: Drawn by Dragonblood
Book 2: Destined by Dragonblood

ABOUT LYNN BURKE:Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

Website: https://www.authorlynnburke.com/
Blog: http://authorlynnburke.blogspot.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author-Lynn-Burke-555282497937461/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorLynnBurke
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorlynnburke/
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/lynn-burke

The Evernighties Blog Challange Week 22

The Best Gift I Ever Gave

I'm not sure how to answer this challenge. Do I toot my own horn? What if the people I gave gifts to didn't like them but were too nice to let me know? Or what if the gifts I gave meant more than I thought they did?

I take gift giving very seriously. I want people to know I thought about them and what their likes were, that I put thought into it. I mean, sometimes I've given gift cards simply because what the hell do you get a teenager? So I guess I'll answer this blog challenge by the gifts I really enjoyed giving.

When Mike and I started dating, I wanted to surprise him. For our first Christmas, I didn't want him to spend a lot of money on me (we'd only been dating a month), so I laid down some rules. Nothing over $10.00. We're both Star Wars fans, and I had this Chewbacca poster from childhood, given by some company as a promotion. There were four posters but I only had the one. I found it and bought a frame for $8.00. He was shocked and we have it hanging up now.

Another gift I gave were tickets to one of the opening games of The Vegas Golden Knights. We're both hockey fans, and we love our Vegas Born team, so I got us tickets for October 1st, 2017. It was a great game and we got to see the wonderful new T-Mobile arena (The Fortress). Unfortunately, it was also the night that 58 people lost their lives during a terrorist attack perpetrated by a horrible man.

While that gift was tainted by tragedy, his next birthday gift I got him tickets to a Dodger game when the St. Louis Cardnials were playing. We also love Cardnials baseball (both of us growing up in the Midwest), and we spent the weekend with our friends in LA and went to the baseball game. It was a great night, even though St. Louis lost.

**Make sure to check out the others in the Evernighties Blog challenge!

Wednesday's Writer's Block Exercise - Week 21

Got Writer’s Block?

Yeah, it happens to the best of us.  Life gets in the way and your brain is taken in another direction and before you know it, it’s been days or weeks since you last looked at that book you’re trying to write.  You’ve forgotten little details.  What eye color did you give your hero?  What town was your heroine born in?  Perhaps you need to jumpstart your creative mojo, and that's what this series is designed for. Not to explain writer's block, but to help you move in a different direction.


This is a very common plot twist that many movies use, and I often write it in my own stories. I try to be sneaky about it, but sometimes I'm not sure if I've achieved that. Sometimes it all goes back to an insignificant moment in the narrative, a character barely seen. Those are the best ones because when you go back rewatch, or reread, it's like witnessing a completely new story!

Surprising the reader is always a good thing. The story will stay with him/her and so will your name. Then the person goes on a hunt of your backlog to find another book. This happens all the time, and a writer usually makes more money from their backlog this way. It's all about getting your name remembered so when a reader goes book shopping, they'll pull up your name.



#21 Imposter Someone is not who he seems. Perhaps it's an ally- or maybe it's the hero.


>Imagine your hero's life is a deception. Who is he really, and why is he pretending to
be this character?

> List three jobs your hero would be terrible at, then write a scene in which she fakes her way through one of them.

> It's easy to pretend to be someone else online. Brainstorm three ways your hero could be catfished or otherwise deceived.




Everyone wears masks, but some characters go much further, pretending to be someone they're not.

Some deceptions are spontaneous and unplanned (pretending to like jazz), while others require extensive training (a deep-cover spy). Some characters forget who they really are.

The life of an inpostor is dangerous - every moment carries the risk of the ruse collapsin. What are the consequences of being discovered? Who gains from the life being revealed?




Happy Writing!


***John August designed these cards to help writers fix plot holes, spice up stock characters and
rethink your themes.  They, of course, do not guarantee you’ll get published or that you’ll become the next J.K. Rowling, and of course they are only a tool to help you think outside the box. I make no monetary gain with them nor do I expect anything in return.  I do not own the contents in these cards. If you're interested in them, here's the amazon link: https://www.amazon.com/Writer-Emergency-Pack/dp/B00R6ZLIOY/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1502046610&sr=8-2&keywords=john+august