Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 260

Good Deeds (Contest)

“Crown every passing day with some good action daily.” ~Martin Tupper

I collect quotes. I have for years. They provide me a daily affirmation. A rule to live by. Or simply inspiration to be a better me. I like this one because it reminds me that good deeds aren’t something you do when you feel like it, or when they are scheduled. As well, they don’t have to be large gestures.

For example, yesterday, I made my mother breakfast. The day before, I babysat the littlest one for my daughter. I don’t note when I do something nice for someone else, because I’m not doing it to receive praise, but because it’s a healthy way to live—good for my psyche. I’m not doing it because I want to earn my way into heaven or to earn points with the Powers That Be. Doing good deeds reminds me I’m part of the world, part of a family, someone needed. And I do know I’m appreciated.

So, my question for you today is what good deed will you do today? Or is there some small thing you did yesterday that you’d like to share? Fitting in good deeds in our busy, everyday lives can be a very easy thing to do!

Comment for a chance to win your choice of one of my short stories!

Lizzie Ashworth: Jarrod Bancroft — Five Novellas in One (FREE BOOK)

Jarrod Bancroft Series – Five Novellas, NOW – all in one massive volume: Jarrod Bancroft: The Novel

Part I – A Gift for Jarrod

Life has been too easy for Jarrod Bancroft—rich parents, football star, law degree, high powered job, women by the score. Something is missing. He wants whatever Stonybrook Academy can dish out, much as it scares the hell out of him. And he was right to be afraid. He never imagined this. And the voice behind Madam’s mask sounds familiar, but after days of torture and deprivation, Jarrod’s only thought is to obey.

With everything she cared about gone, Dominatrix Macie Fitzgerald has built a new life in service to those seeking pain and submission. She takes pride in her success. So when she accepts Jarrod Bancroft’s application to her next training session, she acknowledges the risk. The ten years that have passed since he was her high school history student have only made him more magnificent in every

way.

Macie faces her biggest challenge as she struggles to fulfill her professional obligation to give Jarrod what he wants. What he needs.

Part I, now FREE at Smashwords

Get ALL five novellas in one big bundle. eBook format, now for a limited time, only $3.99 Amazon Smashwords

Paperback at Amazon, $14.99

 

Part II – Valentine’s Day

In the two months since Jarrod Bancroft showed up at her Academy for submission training, Macie Fitzgerald has violated every rule she ever made for herself. But as Jarrod keeps nudging the line, Macie must confront her fears about this man and the fires of desire he ignites in all her secret places.

Jarrod Bancroft knows what he wants: Macie. What she doesn’t give, he takes—a risky venture when you’re a sub. To complicate matters, there’s a legal hammer hanging over his head at Bancroft Investments that threatens to ruin his professional future. He takes comfort that Macie has his back, even if only in yet another sadistic torment.

But does she really? Or has he pushed too far?

Part III – Spring Break

Jarrod’s life takes an unexpected and life-threatening turn when he’s sucked into his father’s illegal business mess. Powerless as a nightmare unfolds around him, he dreams of his queen, the only woman he wants. But there’s nothing Macie can do for him now.

Terrified over Jarrod’s disappearance, Macie makes her choice. She loves him. She’ll do anything to help him. No risk is too great, even confronting the tyrant responsible for Jarrod’s danger.

Mysteries unfold as Jarrod fights to save himself and stake his claim on the woman he loves.

Part IV – A Day in Paradise

Macie confronts her worst fears after Jarrod disappears. Desperate to help, she risks body and soul in an effort to gain his freedom.

Held captive, Jarrod realizes his life is in danger. But he’s powerless, locked in a room with no escape. With only his wits and the lessons he’s learned at the point of Macie’s whip, he struggles to save himself.

 

 

Part V – Homecoming

Jarrod may be free of the island, but he is not free from what happened there. Each day is a nightmare of memories and new revelations. He’s in an assassin’s crosshairs. Worse, so are Macie and Chris.

Unable to penetrate Jarrod’s emotional barricades, Macie tries to forget him. But nothing works, and more than ever, she’s at risk of heartbreak. And death.

NOTICE: This book includes scenes of extreme BDSM. For adults only.

Genevive Chamblee: What is romance?

I think most people will agree love and romance are different. One can definitely be in a loving relationship that lacks romance. How often has one heard someone comment the spark has gone out of a relationship or that the fire needs to be rekindled? Does that mean the relationship dead or the love has vanished? Possibly. But the chances are what is lacking isn’t love but romance.

So, what is romance? Romance is acts or gestures that create a feeling of being wooed or special and enhances feelings of deep or intimate affection plus a whole lot more. Truth is, there exists no simple answer to define it. Most default to describing what it looks like in action. Most also would agree romance is different for men and women. A woman may swoon by having a surprise bouquet of flowers sent to her job while a man may be blown away by having his significant other bring him an icy, cold beer during the big game. This is not to say a man wouldn’t appreciate flowers or a woman a nice tall one. Romance means going beyond or exceeding the normal bounds to express tenderness. It expresses the appreciation of another person and blooms exhilaration. Romance fuels passion.

Romance doesn’t have to be grand or expensive gestures. Opening a door, holding an umbrella over, or even a wink all can be romantic. And they’re all free—unless the person has to buy the umbrella or the door being held is to an establishment with a cover charge. That’s why it’s puzzling that a man would take a date to an inexpensive greasy spoon with ripped, pleather seats when he could make PB&J, pack a blanket, and take her to a sweet spot under the stars. (Disclaimer to my fellow southerner who know timing is everything. Doing this in the wrong moth will get you swarmed with lovebugs—not romantic—or eat up by mosquitos—or worse if you’re down on the lower bayou. Plan wisely, or at least, have a pistol handy.)

Romance involves thought. Treating him to a birthday dinner can be romantic. Taking him to a seafood buffet because you forgot he’s allergic to shellfish would be crappy, and thus, a failure in the romance category. Of course, some smart aleck will argue that if she remembered to bring an EpiPen this still could constitute romantic. But no, it still would be an “epi fail”—sort of like this joke. Romance must consider the other person’s thoughts, feelings, and health.

Readers of romance look for these elements and connections in stories. Often if a romance novel is a flop, it’s because the author has incorrectly defined romance and instead focused on meaningless gestures that do not deepen the bond between characters. This occurs in the real world, too. But if one was to really think about it, being romantic isn’t all that complicated. Follow the heart, and it all comes naturally.

Don’t forget to visit Creole Bayou. New posts are made on Wednesdays. If you have any questions or suggestions about this post or any others, feel free to comment below or tweet me at @dolynesaidso. You also can follow me on Instagram at genevivechambleeauthor or search me on Goodreads or Amazon Authors.

Enjoy sports romance? Check out my new adult romance, Defending the Net, being released in November. It is the second in my hockey series and guaranteed to melt the ice. Preorder now at: https://books2read.com/defending. Crossing the line could cost the game.

Missed the first in my hockey romance series? Don’t worry. Out of the Penalty Box, an adult romance where it’s one minute in the box or a lifetime out is available at http://amzn.to/2Bhnngw. It also can be ordered on iTunes, Nook, or Kobo. For more links where to purchase or to read the blurb, please visit http://bit.ly/2i9SqpH.

Life’s Roux: Wrong Doors, my steamy romantic comedy, is available at Red Sage Publishing. To order, follow the link at http://amzn.to/2lCQXpt.

Copies of all my books and stories are available in paper, eBook, and audio on Amazon, iTunes, Kobo, and Barnes & Noble. The links are listed in my Writing Projects page (http://bit.ly/2iDYRxU) along with descriptions of each of my novels or stories.

NEWSLETTER! Want to get the latest information and updates about my writing projects, giveaways, contests, and reveals first? Click on http://bit.ly/2zJjUdb and signup today.

If you enjoy reading this post, please share it with your friends and family. There’s never too many people in the bayou. Spread the word.

Flashback: Frannie and The Private Dick (Contest)

The Night Fall series was one of my first. I still love it, and I try to add to the series every now and then, because I can’t let that world go. I wrote the first story in 2003 or 2004, and I added Big Bad Wolf last year. I’ve had fun writing them. The stories are filled with danger, plenty of sexy encounters, and humor. One of the funniest, I think, is  Frannie and The Private Dick. The title came first, and the adventure spun out from there…

For a chance to win your choice from among the Night Fall stories,

answer me this…

Is there a paranormal show on TV that you adore, past or present?

           Click on the covers to learn more!

Frannie and The Private Dick

Bent on catching her cheating fiancé in the act, Frannie Valentine got sidetracked by a little thing like dying. When she awakens, Frannie learns her pampered life will never be the same, so she turns to the man responsible for her undeadness and demands he take on the responsibility of giving her a little job training—in the PI biz.

Niall Keegan never intended to make himself a mate, but Frannie’s string of minor disasters, which ended with her dying in his arms, took the decision right out of his hands. While the mating part isn’t bad, making the disaster-prone Frannie a PI may just be the death of him.

Excerpt from Frannie and The Private Dick…

Francesca Valentine had died and gone to hell. No other explanation made sense. She swam back to awareness through a molasses-thick void to find herself suddenly spat out from a dark womb into a cold, hollow space. Blind, and so still she knew she didn’t breathe, her mind turned over like a sluggish engine before revving into high gear.

Quickly, she assessed what she knew. She lay on a hard surface, covered with a scratchy square of thin fabric, unable to move a muscle. A low whine, like that of an air-conditioner, came from the opposite side of the space. Harsh light shone from above, warming her face, but hurting her closed eyes. So, she probably wasn’t blind after all. But she was definitely dead. Stone-cold. Her chest wasn’t moving in and out, but she didn’t feel starved for air.

She knew who she was and what had killed her, but hadn’t a clue what new fix she’d landed herself in. From nearby came the scrape of footsteps and a tentative humming, then…

“Bee-ooot-ee-foll Dreeeeamer, wake unto me…”

She was in hell all right. A demented spirit hovered over her, emitting an off-key warbling that set Frannie’s teeth on edge. By the rusty sound of the grating voice, her tormentor must be an ancient female, and the she-devil was trying to remove the skin from her face in slow, abrasive circles with…apricot-scented facial scrub? Frannie’d had a chemical peel the week before. The last thing she needed was a dime store product applied to her professionally maintained skin.

God must be punishing her for the sin of vanity—for all the hours she’d spent being teased, plucked, painted, and waxed. Each moment endured to make her the perfect trophy for Vinnie to parade around his “business associates” for them to kiss, pinch, and swat.

Now she wished she’d gone to Mass more often, or hadn’t lusted after the young Irish priest, or hadn’t snuck out her bedroom window to canoodle with Vinnie. Especially that.

Her mother had predicted just such a fate when Frannie got engaged to Vinnie Ricchione, and had even sworn to wear black to the wedding.

But Mama had described the fire-and-brimstone version of the ultimate southerly location in vivid detail. Obviously God hadn’t designed hell as a one-size-fits-all-sins destination.

“Star-liiiight and dooo-drops are waiting for thee…”

She could almost see her mama now, shaking her finger at Zia Grazia. “What did I tell that girl? Vinnie’s no good.”

Zia Grazia would nod her gray head and masticate on her slipping dentures, too deaf to care about Donatella Valentine’s latest tirade.

But that wouldn’t stop Mama. She’d scoot closer to shout into her aunt’s ear. “Do you think a daughter listens to her mother? Now look at me. No daughter. No grandbabies. I told her Vinnie’d come to a bad end—and her along with him!”

Well, Mama had only been half-right.

Paralyzed, forced to submit to a facial flaying and the demon’s ear-shattering trills, Frannie’s penance had a certain poetic justice.

She was dead because of Vinnie.

While her death hadn’t been precisely his fault, she’d never have followed him if he’d been the faithful sort of fiancé.

He’d said he was meeting the boys. “Don’t wait up, hon. We got shipments comin’ in.” But Frannie had known better. One time too many, he’d come home smelling of cheap whiskey and even cheaper perfume. This time, Frannie would catch the cheating bastard in the act.

That night, she’d teetered on three-inch boot heels on a wooden crate behind his shipping company office, peering into a darkened room. She’d almost decided Vinnie had slipped the noose when she heard a commotion coming from beneath the window where Vinnie’s desk sat. At first, she hadn’t understood what she heard, then the sounds had grown louder—punctuated by groans, bumps, and slurps too large and energetic to be two mice doing the bunny-hump.

Irate, she’d screeched and toppled off the crate. But falling into the trash bin wasn’t what killed her.

“Sounds of the ruuude world heard in the daaaaay…”

She’d crawled backward out of the dumpster, glad the only things clinging to her hair were bits of packing peanuts, when she heard a door slam and footsteps entering the alley. She brushed herself off, picked up her purse from beside the overturned crate, and stalked toward the street.

“Hon, what the hell are you doin’?” Vinnie shuffled toward her, tucking his shirt into his pants. “Now, baby, I can explain—”

She raised her chin, held out her hand, and stomped right past him, proud she kept her chin from wobbling. The bastard’s not gonna make me cry.

“Frannie—honey, wait!”

She quickened her pace and turned the corner onto the sidewalk. As luck would have it, a taxi was driving straight toward her. She started to run, waving frantically at the car, but it didn’t slow.

She stepped into the street, but her foot tilted on the edge of a gutter, and her ankle turned. The heel of her boot snapped, and Frannie threw out her arms as she stumbled into the path of the taxi.

But the taxi hadn’t killed her either.

The cab screeched to a halt, and the driver flung open his door. “Lady, you okay?” He was a big, burly guy—Irish, she’d have guessed, by the look of his dark brows and square, rugged jaw if his faintly accented speech hadn’t already given him away.

“Please!” She held out her hand in his direction.

“Francesca! Honey, don’t move,” Vinnie shouted.

She didn’t have to force a tear into her eye. Her ankle throbbed. She stared at the driver and gave him what Vinnie called her “diamonds-or-flowers” look—the one guaranteed to make a man do her bidding.

The Irishman straightened his shoulders and pushed back his shirtsleeves, revealing thick wrists and muscled forearms. “Is this man botherin’ you, ma’am?”

She nodded and let her chin wobble.

The driver bent down and swept her easily to her feet. Frannie let herself lean against his broad chest just long enough to test the depth of his indrawn breath. She could tell a lot about a man’s attraction from a telltale gasp, and she needed this man’s attraction to flare long enough for Vinnie to notice.

The driver’s chest expanded, and the arms that held her tightened fractionally.

“I’m not a man—I’m her husband,” Vinnie shouted. “Get your hands off her!”

“You’re not a husband until we share joint checking and a last name!” she shouted back. The driver hesitated, and she clutched his sleeve. “Please, help me! I swear he’s not my husband.”

“Near enough!” Vinnie said.

Looking up at her rescuer from beneath her lashes, she added softly, “I have to get away.”

His gaze locked with hers for a moment before swinging to pin Vinnie to the spot. “Looks like your lady doesn’t want anything to do with you at the moment.” The driver gently pushed her behind him. “Ma’am, you go ahead and get inside.”

As she limped toward the cab, Frannie looked over her shoulder.

Vinnie’s face was a mottled red. “Now, look here—”

“I think you’d better back off.” The burly Irishman clenched his fists.

Vinnie peered around the mountain-sized man at Frannie as she ducked into the back seat of the taxi. “Frannie, you come back here. We gotta talk. What you seen wasn’t nothin’, I swear! It wasn’t even me!”

Frannie pulled the door shut and waited for the driver to back his way to the taxi.

Vinnie stood in the middle of the street, his shoulders drooping. She almost felt sorry for him, until the door to the company office swung open. Raeline Curtis, Vinnie’s secretary, hurried down the street, tugging at the seat of her tight skirt.

Frizzy, over-bleached blonde hair, broad hips, and cheap shoes—Vinnie’d cheated on her with Raeline? Confused, Frannie peered through the back window as the taxi drove away, Vinnie’s swarthy, slender face and slumped shoulders growing smaller in the distance. He’d wait at home—and be truly, miserably sorry for the pain he’d caused her. And she’d probably forgive him—after her pride had been soothed with lots of groveling and gifts.

But tonight, she needed to make the snake sweat.

“Where can I take you, ma’am?”

“To another life?” she muttered. Louder, she said, “Drop me at Lizards ’n’ Suds.”

“You sure about that? That joint’s kinda rough for a lady like you.”

“A lady like me?” I live in sin with a man whose “business associates” send Christmas cards from the federal penitentiary. Frannie sniffed. “Thanks for your help back there, but I’ll be just fine.”

He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Whatever you want. It’s your dime.”

What she’d wanted was something she’d never have now.

“Lull’d by the mooonlight have all passed awaaaay…”

That’s me all right—all passed away. A tear trickled down the side of her cheek.

N.J. Walters: What do our clothes say about us?

What does our clothes say about us?

Quite a bit, actually. Whether we like it or not, people make assumptions about us based on what we wear.

I’m currently wearing a white short-sleeve T-shirt and a pair of black capri leggings with a hole just above the knee. What does that say about me? I like comfort. I’m relaxed at home. I’m not concerned about seeing people. Maybe I need to buy some new capri pants.

Taige Crenshaw: The Journey of a Story

When ideas are flowing fast, it’s all I can do to write fast enough to get it all down. I need a clone. LOL. I love when I’m deep into a story, and the story is going well. When I write, I connect with each moment in the story. Connect with the characters and walk with them as they go through whatever happens in the story. The book drives me to keep writing. I’m eager to see what happens next right along with my characters. The adventure of it all is such fun, and I love it.

Each book has its own personality and quirks that are unveiled as you write. It’s like getting to know someone you just met. Of course, you have impressions from what you view of them, and you are either proven right or wrong once you get to know them. Then as you get more familiar with that person, you get more in-depth with them and learn so much about them.

That is how I view a book—a new person I want to know so much more about. So when I write, that is my goal—to take a reader from that initial first impression they get when they read the blurb to making them become a part of the story. To make the reader become part of the fabric of the story. I love getting to do that when I write. Taking a journey of a story then bringing a reader along with me.

Seducing a God

When a God meets a woman who is a decadent distraction, he finds himself being seduced.

Universal Link for Amazon, Nook, iBooks and Kobo, etc: http://bit.ly/seducingagod

Taige Crenshaw has been enthralled with the written word from time she picked up her first book. It wasn’t long before she started to make up her own tales of romance.

With interracial and multicultural novels set in today, in alternate dimensions, or in the future, she writes with adventure, fun sassy heroines, and sexy heroes.

Always hard at work creating new and exciting places, Taige can be found curled up with a hot novel with exciting characters when she is not creating her own. Join her in the fun, frolic, interesting people and far reaches of the world in her novels.

You can find out more about Taige at her website: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com

or blog: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/blog.

Also find her on Facebook at her page

https://www.facebook.com/TaigeCrenshawAuthor

and Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/WordSlingerCafe.

Or on twitter: https://twitter.com/TaigeCrenshaw.

NEWSLETTER! Want to get the latest information and from Taige’s writing projects, giveaways, contests, reveals and more. Click on http://bit.ly/taigenews and signup today.

What I’m working on now…

Work the puzzle! See what I’m working on, pounding on the keyboard until my fingers are nubs. Oh, wait. I was born with nubby fingers. Work the puzzle anyway!

Flashback: Soldier Boy (Contest)

I have tons of series! I know it’s possible you might have missed one. Texas Cowboys is a sexy one, filled with those alpha-male, Texas men—six stories, so far! All are interconnected, so you get to see the characters you’ve met along the way. And they are available in print editions!

For a chance to win your choice from among the Texas Cowboys stories, answer me this…

Have you read any of the Texas Cowboys or Lone Star Lovers stories?

Which series would you like to see more of?

  

  Click on covers to learn more!

Soldier Boy

Just home from war, Mac McDonough is in a world of hurt only a woman can cure. Suki’s jealous stalker doesn’t stand a chance…

Fresh from war, “Mac” McDonough wants just two things: whiskey to drown the pain in his damaged leg and a woman. But one look into Suki Reese’s haunted eyes, and he knows she needs the kind of muscle only an ex-soldier can provide.

Mac’s brooding gaze and hard body leave Suki Reece breathless and disturbed. The rugged ex-soldier won’t listen to a word she says until Suki distracts him with a sexy striptease. That gets his attention. Suki may have gotten the upper hand, but Mac is going to be on top.

Get your copy here!

Excerpt from Soldier Boy…

Mac McDonough’s body ached with the need to sink into soft, wet woman.

An escape, no matter how brief, from the constant, throbbing in his shattered leg.

Like an answer to his prayer, a familiar SUV crawled up the rough gravel road. His body tightened. Tara Toomey had offered the last time she paid him a visit, for old time’s sake, but he’d turned her down because he’d still had just enough pride and just enough affection for his old friend not to want to use her like that.

Today, she wouldn’t make it past the door. The thought of her blonde flyaway curls wrapped around his dick made his heart thud with anticipation.

As she slowly made her way up the winding, rutted road, Mac McDonough closed his eyes, turned his face into the gusting, humid air, and inhaled the fresh scent of the coming rain—a fierce reminder of just how far he’d come.

Over seven thousand miles and another lifetime.

The cabin nestled high on a ridge overlooking hills covered with live oak and cedar seemed as far removed from his version of reality as the face of Mars.

Sure, the ground was a bed of sand and rock, but the sand was grittier, the grains larger than the wheat flour a Hummer could kick up into the air, leaving a trail that could be tracked for miles across the desert floor.

The air was almost as hot but filled with so much moisture it felt thick as he dragged it deep into his lungs.

Mac curled his fingers around the porch rail and leaned into it, savoring the solitude he’d needed to heal his soul that no amount of therapy or medicine could compare with.

Only thing missing from the picture was another case of whiskey to help him sink into a stupor to ease the pain-filled tension in his body and shut out the memories that haunted his dreams.

And a woman. Not that he was willing to leave the cabin to go on the prowl for one, but the longer he remained in his self-imposed isolation, the more urgent became the need. Any woman would do—so long as she didn’t want to talk or be wooed. He hadn’t the time or the heart left for either.

Mac sighed. Hell, if all Tara offered him this go-round was whiskey, he might make it through another week before he lost his mind.

The silver SUV ground to a halt. Tara slammed open her door and jumped down from the cab, her arms already opening wide as she approached.

He stiffened automatically as her embrace surrounded him, and then forced himself to relax. “Tara, let’s get it on,” he growled.

Tara flung back her head and laughed. “Soldier Boy, that’s the least appealing proposition I’ve gotten today.”

His arms clamped hard around her lean body. “I’m not kidding. Right here, right now. Let’s do it.”

Her blue eyes clung to his face, and her smile dimmed for just a moment, before stretching wide again. “You’re in a bad way, aren’t you?”

“You gotta ask?” he said, rutting his groin crudely against her soft belly.

Air whistled through her pursed lips. “Now, there’s something I don’t feel every day. Almost forgot you come packin’ some serious hardware.”

“Is that a yes?” he bit out irritably.

Tara gave him another hug then eased out of his arms. “As tempting as your offer is, I’m gonna have to say no. I’m saving myself these days.”

He lifted an eyebrow, not missing the slight blush that painted her cheeks a pretty rose. “Well, fuck.”

She laughed again and whirled, heading back to her vehicle. “Go get off that leg. I brought gifts. We’ll talk.”

Mac cussed again. The last thing he wanted to do was talk. About anything. Especially about anything to do with his returning home. He wasn’t ready.

Fact was, he didn’t know if he ever would be.

He gathered the cane he’d left leaning against the rail and limped into the cabin, heading for the lounge chair and the overstuffed ottoman that had served as his bed more times than the mattress in the cozy room at the back of the one-bedroom cabin she’d lent him.

Tara returned with two grocery bags and set them on the kitchen table. She hummed as she put away her purchases in the cupboard, and Mac closed his eyes, pretending to nap.

When something cold touched his fingers, he peeked from beneath his eyelids and gratefully accepted the tumbler with a double-shot of whiskey on ice.

He raised his glass and gave her a glare that had her chuckling as she took a seat on the small sofa opposite him.

“A toast,” she said, raising her own glass.

“What are we celebrating?” he asked, determined to make the effort to be polite even though his “condition” still screamed for attention.

“To friends,” she replied, her gaze sliding away.

Suspicion raised hackles on the back of his neck, but he remained silent, watching Tara fidget on the sofa as she sought the right words to start the conversation.

He blew out a deep breath, knowing he had to show polite interest. “Lyssa and Brand set a date?”

“They’re waiting for you.”

Mac’s lips twisted. “Tell her to plan it. I’ll walk her down the damn aisle.”

“They want you home first. To stay.”

“Thought Brand had everything under control. They have any more problems with smugglers?”

“No signs, lately. DEA and the Rangers scoured the place and set up patrols up and down this side of the river. They think the bastards moved their route.”

Mac eased back in his chair. “Then he’s got it covered.”

“They’re both run pretty ragged. Brand’s got his own spread to manage; Lyssa’s working yours. Of course, they’re not gettin’ much sleep.”

Mac grimaced, knowing exactly why his baby sister wasn’t getting any rest. “Danny still back at Wasp Creek with his woman?”

Tara nodded, a smile stretched her mouth. “He’s got his hands full. Maggie’s pregnant, and he’s decided to pitch in to run her place.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Pregnant? Is he marrying her?”

“They did it last weekend at the saloon.”

A pang of regret tightened his chest. In that other lifetime, he would have been there. “Good for him.”

“Mac…”

He tensed, knowing she was finally getting to the point of the visit and girding himself to refuse. Saying no to family or Tara tore him up, but he just wasn’t ready to reenter that world.

Too many shadows hovered around him. He felt too tense, too rangy. His mood swings still verged on dangerous. Habits he’d picked up in the desert, instincts he couldn’t turn off, left him feeling out of control of his reactions and emotions.

Maybe if he could get a good night’s sleep, just once without the aid of alcohol… Just one night…

“Go ahead and spit it out,” Mac ground out. “I’ll tell you no. You can nag me to death until you go. Then you can tell the folks at home you tried. But Tara, I’m not goin’ back. Not yet.”

“This is something else…”

The quiet tension in her voice caught his attention

“…and I don’t know who else to ask…”

He stared into the glass, not willing to see the plea in her blue eyes. “What is it?”

“I have this friend who’s in trouble. Her ex boyfriend’s gonna kill her.”

Two Superheroes–Céline Dion and Deadpool

This morning, I headed to my dd’s house for my morning cup of joe. I love to hit her right when she’s got the kids scrambling to get ready for the bus.

“I don’t want to wear a pink bow!” the 5-year-old yells, and then she runs to get the “perfect bow”—a gargantuan blue blow that makes her look like a cartoon character, but hey, she’s happy.

“Lala, you’re going to be late!”

“I’m not finished braiding my hair!”

“J, have you brushed your teeth?”

By the time they’re walking down the long drive to meet the bus, I’m sitting back, sipping on my coffee, and secretly laughing my ass off, because I didn’t have to do squat—been there, done that.

My dd comes back from seeing the little one up the bus steps and says, “Hey, before you go back to your office, wanna watch Deadpool 2?”

Of course, I was in. I LOVE superhero movies. She wanted to pre-screen it before she decided if any of the kids could watch it, because we saw the first one, and Ryan Reynolds has a potty mouth (not that I mind that so much—I prefer kids being exposed to bad words and a little flesh as opposed to violence, blood, and guts). So, we settled in to watch.

All I can say is I’m glad we watched it at home because I would have been “That Woman”—you know the one who laughs too loud and has to make comments all the way through the movie. Loved Ryan Reynolds (I have a crush on him), loved Josh Brolin as Cable. Laughed myself silly over Matt Damon’s cameo as the redneck talking about Wet Wipes and toilet paper and Deadpool with the little baby legs. The parachuting scene?! HaHaHa! The soundtrack was fun as well. I laughed again when a Céline Dion song played, because it so wasn’t suited for the movie, but was somehow still perfect.

After the credits rolled, I had to find the video. Céline’s music isn’t my music. I don’t have a single song of hers on my iPod, but this is fun! Hope  you enjoy it! Loved Deadpool in high heels.

Lizzie Ashworth: Salvation (FREE Read!)

Hi Delilah Fans! Fires across the western states this summer are worse than any previous year, and that’s what they’ve been saying every summer for quite a while now. Terrifying!

That’s what I envisioned when I first started writing my House of Rae series. Set forty years into the future, the stories dive off into a time where big changes are underway as humanity struggles to survive in a climate-changed world. But guess what! Sex is the answer.

Today, I’m sharing the first book, Salvation, for FREE with the coupon code CQ96Q at Smashwords, https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/491247. The coupon expires August 26, so don’t wait around to nab your copy.

Three people propel this intense story, two of them former lovers—Lu and Rae—who can’t get past their unhealed wounds and one of them—Josh—a young man programmed to kill.

Salvation

In the year 2056, Josh Carter sets out on his mission. The young terrorist’s assignment: destroy the Kansas City House of Rae, flagship establishment of a flourishing prostitution trade catering to women. Primary Brotherhood target? Rae Stewart herself.

In the decades since water sources began drying up, fire ravages the countryside and a mysterious ailment called Brown Death spreads its horror through the population. The nation’s strained resources have shifted away from war to focus on food, water, and healing energy centers supported by psions who channel energy from dance centers, sex houses, and meditation rooms.

Lu Hardin helped discover the healing power of sex energy and tries to protect Rae from her own worst instincts despite the failure of their long love affair. But he can’t stop her from welcoming Josh Carter who Rae hires as a pleasure partner. Lu’s gut tells him the kid is a plant.

Rae Stewart brushes off Lu’s warnings. A hardheaded business woman, she knows a good thing when she sees it. Josh Carter is just what her clients enjoy—young, virile, and angry. It’s her attention to such detail that has taken her successful franchise worldwide. Besides, she hasn’t been this excited about a man since, well, she’d rather not think about Lu.

Strict training has kept Josh pure, but he’s willing to sacrifice his virginity in order to fulfill the mission. Yet despite his revulsion as his body responds in overwhelming ways, a tiny voice starts to grow in Josh’s head questioning the mission.

Salvation takes the reader on a headlong rush through a future world not so distant from the present. Who will be saved?

About the Author

Lizzie Ashworth lives in the wilds of the Ozark Mountains with three cats, two hound dogs, and too many deer in her yard. She’s been writing her entire life and wants her readers to know how much she enjoys sharing her naughty stories.

Follow her for free erotic short works, hot photos, and the occasional rant on her blog at http://lizzieashworth.com/.

Visit Liz’s Amazon Author Page at https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00DJWDJHC for a list of all her books and blog posts.

Sign up for Liz’s free e-newsletter. Liz’s Hot News features special notices with excerpts, freebies, pre-release deals, and much more. Your address will not be shared, guaranteed! Sign up at http://eepurl.com/bHOyS9.