Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 277

Allie Boniface: Where do you get the ideas for your books? (F*R*E*E STORY)

I get this question a lot: Where do you get the ideas for your books?

My answer? Everywhere.

But one of the more interesting ideas behind a book happened about eight years ago, when I picked up a newspaper and saw a short article with the headline “Husband and Wife Discover They Are Twins After DNA Test for IVF.” I was immediately intrigued. What on earth would that feel like, to discover that the person you had fallen in love with, you were blood related to?

Turns out it’s not that far-fetched a question. I did a little reading, and then a little more, and I found something called Genetic Sexual Attraction, which is something that happens when two people who are genetically related, but denied the ability to properly form emotional bonds as children, meet as adults and develop strong feelings for one another. These days, with anonymous donors more and more common in the world of fertility, it’s actually not unheard of for people who are blood related to cross paths as adults and, yes, date or fall in love.

So that brought me back to my original question: what would it feel like to make that discovery? Could you “unlove” the person you thought was your soulmate? Could you possibly stay with the person anyway? Would you tell anyone? And that’s when I knew I had to write a romance novel with those questions at their core.

Labyrinth of Love is the fourth book in my Hometown Heroes series, and it features two related love stories, sixty years apart. Within those two stories I finally got to weave the idea of that long-ago newspaper article — but I’m not saying any more! If you want to find out what happens, you’ll have to read the book.

If you want a little teaser first, you’re just in time to sign up for my newsletter and receive my next free short story, “Roses are Red, Violets are Pink.” It’s a tie-in to Labyrinth of Love, so you can get a peek at the small town of Lindsey Point and a little of its history before you dive into the series.

Happy reading, everyone!

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Linda O’Connor: Romantic Comedy (Contest)

As a physician, I’m always concerned (okay, completely anal ) about infection control. I taught my three kids to wash their hands whenever they came home from school, after playing outside, really anytime they walked into the house. We all have separate toothbrush holders, and we each have our own tube of toothpaste. And don’t even get me started on sharing drinks. Infectious mononucleosis, influenza, herpes simplex, even hepatitis A lurk everywhere. So imagine my chagrin when, now that they’re older, they taste-test each other’s beer or share water bottles on the bench when they’re playing hockey!

 

This crept into Behind the Bench, the second book of my In the Game Hockey Romance series. Dr. Danni Angelo is the team physician for the local professional hockey team. She’s forever chirping at the players to use their own water bottles. The players tolerate the advice, even appreciate her concern, but they pretty much ignore her. She’s not giving up though – and she’ll add her two cents about the merits of full-face shields while she’s at it.

I also want to wish you Happy St. Patrick’s Day!! May your day be touched with a bit of Irish luck, brightened by a song in your heart, and warmed with smiles by the people you love!

  Behind the Bench

(In the Game Hockey Romance series, Book 2)

Dr. Danni Angelo is the team physician for the Clarington Quakes hockey team. She’s worked hard to earn the players’ respect, but the new coach, Trey Mason, is stirring things up, and Danni’s worried her job may be in jeopardy.

Trey finds Danni…distracting. Beauty, brains, and sexy moves on the ice have him uncomfortably attracted. He’s the new guy on the block. He has a reputation to build and a standard to set. The last thing he needs is a complication.

When the team spirals out of control and Danni and Trey get caught up in a drug scandal, things heat up on and off the ice. It’s a whole new game plan…Behind the Bench.

Excerpt

Danni watched the tail end of the in-house broadcast of the news conference and flicked off the screen. How could you not be impressed with that? Trey Mason was confident and eloquent, and spoke in a relaxed and engaging way. The beach-bum blond hair, sculpted cheekbones, and easy smile would win over the non-hockey fans, and his passion and knowledge of the game would impress the followers. He had it all, and landing in a town like Clarington must be a dream come true. For him.

And a nightmare for her.

She had worked part-time as the team physician for the Clarington Earthquakes, Quakes for short, for the past three years. It had taken time to gain the players’ confidence. Being a female physician for a men’s hockey team hadn’t been easy, but she’d built a solid professional relationship.

She loved everything about the job – the energy of the games, working with high-level athletes, and a new clinic in a state-of-the-art arena. She certainly didn’t want it to change because of a new head coach.

Trey Mason couldn’t fire her. Theoretically. That would be up to the owners of the team. He could, however, make her life miserable. And if there was friction between them, it would affect the players, and ultimately, what affected the players influenced the owners. There were two other physicians who shared the job with her and a few more who would be eager to take it on.

He, on the other hand, could be set for a long run if he delivered half of what he’d promised today. She certainly hadn’t seen any charm when he’d walked into the pressroom, and yet it came out in spades when he spoke. She could only hope that her initial impression had been wrong, because between the two of them, it wasn’t likely that he’d be leaving any time soon. Bottom line – she needed to suck it up and get along with the new guy. She sighed. She hated sucking up. She’d thought she was done with that. Apparently not. She shook her head and gritted her teeth. Time to smile and play nice.

Buy links:

Behind the Bench is part of the Coming in Hot: Rescue Me Romance Collection. It’s available for preorder for only 99cents. Coming April 17!

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07942MKP1

Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/coming-in-hot-gina-kincade/1127238374

Contest

For a chance to win a Kindle Fire and a big box of books, enter the Coming in Hot: Rescue Me Rafflecopter:

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/1be7623365/

 

 

About the Author

Linda O’Connor started writing a few years ago when she needed a creative outlet other than subtly rearranging the displays at the local home décor store. It turns out she loves writing romantic comedies and has a few more stories to tell. When not writing, she’s a physician at an Urgent Care Clinic (well, even when she is writing she’s a physician, and it shows up in her stories ). She hangs out at www.lindaoconnor.net.

Laugh every day. Love every minute.

Website:  http://www.lindaoconnor.net

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/LindaOConnorAuthor

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/LindaOConnor98

Amazon Author Page:  http://www.amazon.com/Linda-OConnor/e/B00S7CNLEA

Newsletter Sign up: http://www.lindaoconnor.net/contact/

Read Chapter One from IN TOO DEEP!

The cover’s pretty, right? In Too Deep is the second of The Triplehorn Brand stories, and it releases next Tuesday. This one features a very sexy couple. They can’t keep their hands off each other.  Be sure to pre-order your copy!

Excerpt from In Too Deep

With the window of his Ford F-150 rolled down and a breeze whipping his face, Gabe Triplehorn didn’t mind the sultry, mid-summer heat. For the first time in years, he felt completely free.

Free of responsibility.

Free of Colt telling him what he ought to do with his life.

Free of Tommy giving him disgusted glances, because the last thing Gabe wanted to do lately was ride behind a herd of cattle kicking up dust in his face.

But he was especially free of the evidence of domestic bliss stinking up the air in the Triplehorn ranch house.

Gabe wasn’t usually this grumpy, but he’d lost sleep for weeks due to the lusty goings-on inside the Triplehorn ranch house. Unaccustomed to sleepless nights when he was home and lying in his own bed, and irritated at having to keep himself decently dressed every time he stepped foot outside his bedroom door, he’d become as nasty as a growling bear to be around.

And who could blame him? Sounds echoed down the bedroom hallway into the early morning hours. Sexy sounds—soft moans, warm chuckles. Sharp, urgent cries. Sounds that put erotic images into a horny man’s head. Stuffing a pillow over his face didn’t muffle them enough to cut through the pictures flooding his mind, especially after he’d gotten an up-close eyeful of one particularly hot-’n’-heavy petting session in the kitchen. Thankfully, neither one of the newly married couple had noticed as he’d hastily backed away from the door. But after that, he couldn’t look at melted chocolate or Zuri’s small breasts in quite the same light.

Not that he wasn’t happy for his brother, Colt. The eldest of the brothers deserved every bit of the happiness he’d found with his new wife. He just wished the two of them had kept their newfound wedded bliss a little more private. Having a beautiful woman under the same roof, one whose lusty spirit apparently matched his brother’s stroke for stroke, played hell with Gabe’s own desire. The fact he hadn’t had time to court a new playmate to handle his excess frustration only added to his ill humor.

At least, Gabe had at last gotten over the major case of indigestion that adding Zuri Prescott to the family had caused. She’d turned out to be all right. Far from the heartless heartbreaker he and Tommy had pegged her for.

Still, it was hard to shrug off over a decade of animosity and resentment in just a couple of months. Harder still to listen to the sounds of his brother’s hard-won satisfaction night after night.

When Colt had suggested that Gabe take a vacation, sew some wild oats—anything to get his head back on straight—Gabe had been a little angry at first, wondering if Colt was trying to push him out of the nest because he was cramping the couple’s style.

But Zuri had pulled him aside, surprising him after he’d been so rough on her when she’d first arrived. He hadn’t believed her story of being framed for a bank robbery or that the true robber had been a cop. Given who her father was, and what Gabe had thought she’d done to his brother, he’d suspected the worst.

Just that morning, after Colt had baldly told him he needed to get out of his system whatever was making him cranky, she’d stopped him on the front porch.

“Gabe,” she’d called after him.

He thought about ignoring her, had his hat in his hand as he stomped down the steps heading to the barn to saddle his horse.

“Gabe.”

He paused, sucked in a deep breath, and pasted on a smile before he faced her. “What do want, Zuri?”

“For you to be happy.”

“Who says I’m not?”

She arched a dark brow while she silently studied him.

Gabe had to admit he could see his brother’s attraction to the woman standing before him. Her curves were subtle, but the length of smooth leg exposed beneath the hem of her short skirt could make any man stop and take notice. Add the healthy shine to her straight, chin-length dark hair and the wide, puppy-dog eyes, and he knew why his brother had risked his life and his career as sheriff to protect her.

“Zuri, I have chores to do,” he said, his voice gruff.

“He’s not trying to ease you out of the house, Gabe. There’s plenty of room here still. And we have plans to build another house to make room for any kids we might be lucky enough to have.”

Luck isn’t gonna have a thing to do with it, honey. He kicked at the dirt beneath his boots. “Colt’s the oldest. The house is his.”

Zuri shook her head. “Fact is, I think he wants Tommy to have this place. He loves it the most. Works the hardest. Colt’s got his sheriff’s job, but Tommy eats, breaths, and sleeps with the cattle. You’re the one he worries about.”

“Sounds like you’ve both been doin’ a lot of talking behind my back.”

“He just wants me to understand you.”

A flush of guilt heated his cheeks. “I said I was sorry for how I treated you,” he muttered, dropping his head to watch himself scuff his boots together.

“And I’ve forgiven you,” she said, her musical voice filled with earnest intent. “You had your reasons for distrusting me. And I can’t blame you for holding a grudge.”

Although he knew she was only acting out of concern, Gabe didn’t like the feeling that crept over him, like Zuri and Colt considered him a problem they had to fix. He was a grown man. He could take care of his own damn problems.

“What’s your point?” he asked, then cringed inside at his terse tone.

Zuri sighed. “Why don’t you do as he suggested. Get away for a bit. Find whatever’s missing in your life or figure out how to go about finding it. We’ll be fine. Our honeymoon’s over. Colt’s ready to dig back in and take up any slack your absence might leave. No one will look sideways if you want to get away for a while on your own.”

Gabe released a deep breath, and then raised his head. “Where the hell would I go?”

Zuri pursed her lips. “Isn’t there some place or person you’re missing?” she asked softly. “Go there.”

The moment she mentioned it, a place did enter his mind.

Tall elms flanking a riverbank, clear water burbling over rocky shelves, and a slow current that invited a man to plant a fishing pole in the mud while he lay on his back, chewing on a blade of grass.

Then another picture seeped into his thoughts. A woman with laughing blue eyes and silky blonde hair that always looked in need of a comb. Curves that would overspill a large palm.

“Gabe?”

He’d drifted a moment on that slow-moving creek.

“You thought of a place?”

He shook his head. Last thing he wanted was to share even a shred of that treasured memory.

She arched a brow. “Then why’d you smile?”

Gabe flashed her a quick grin. “Because you’re every bit as stubborn as your husband.”

“I sure like that word,” she said, a smile stretching her pretty mouth.

Boot steps echoed from inside the house. Colt swept open the door, wearing a pale-blue shirt and dark trousers. His silver badge was clipped to his shirt pocket. “You think about what I said?”

Ten minutes ago, Gabe would have bitten his head off and told him to mind his own business, but Zuri’s expression, so earnest and hopeful, made him stop. “I have,” he said nodding. “I think I’m goin’ campin’.”

Colt’s eyes narrowed. “To the Red Hawk?”

“Yeah, haven’t been there in years.” Gabe stared back, daring him to say anything more.

“Think she’s still there?”

Gabe shook his head. “If she’s there, she’s long married and has a passel of kids. I’m just gonna do some fishin’.”

Colt grinned then leaned down and kissed Zuri’s cheek. “Don’t know what you said to him, but thanks.”

Zuri laughed. “I swear it didn’t take much persuasion on my part.”

Later that morning, he’d stuffed a few changes of clothes into a backpack and left rubber as he’d peeled out of the drive, he was so eager to let loose. Suddenly hopeful that something extraordinary might lie at the end of his journey.

A deer darted into the road. Gabe swerved slightly and tapped the brakes. A doe stood in the center of the road, her flanks quivering, but Gabe understood why she didn’t move when a fawn on spindly legs trotted past her.

When they both leaped into the bushes on the opposite side, he pressed on the gas. He’d better pay attention to the road and stop daydreaming or he’d wind up in a ditch. And he was impatient to see Red Hawk Landing—the small campground with a pier that stretched to the center of the river, the ramshackle collection of wooden cabins that sat in a horseshoe to the side of the small lodge. Not anyone’s idea of a luxury vacation spot, but it was a place a man could hear his own thoughts.

He’d found the campground by accident when he was a teenager and driving, blowing off steam after yet another argument with his father over his grades and late-night partying. He’d been seventeen, and Colt had joined the Army and wasn’t there any longer to help deflect attention from his bad habits. Not that Dad hadn’t had a point. Something Gabe had thought about long and hard after he left a note on the table for his mother to find, telling her he’d be back in a week.

But one week had turned into two when he’d found the campground. Old man Twohig had hired him, needing someone handy to help with repairs and blowing up inner tubes for guests to float the river. What Gabe hadn’t known at the time was that Mr. Twohig had called his dad the first day he’d arrived, and the two men had made an arrangement to help Gabe blow off some steam and have time away from all the expectations of being a Triplehorn.

Gabe had spent the two weeks in cutoff jeans and barefoot. And he’d taken a shine to the old man’s granddaughter, Lena.

She’d come to spend the summer away from the city. She made breakfast every morning for the guests, and then leant a hand with the chores, working side by side with Gabe.

Even though she was a couple of years older than he was, she’d been shy at first. Maybe she’d felt those two years placed him in the do-not-flirt-with zone, but he’d been persistent. Then one late afternoon, a couple of days before his dad and Colt had shown up to take him home, he and Lena Twohig had shed their clothes for a dip in the stream. For one sparkling afternoon, he hadn’t just been romanticizing about being in love. He’d sunk his toes in the mud and pebbles and fallen hard for a woman who’d taught him what real passion meant.

So, what the hell was he doing now, heading back there? It was doubtful the old man was still alive. Even more so that the woman would still be there. She’d had plans for college, another life to begin in Dallas. But still, when he’d spoken to Zuri, his first instinct had been to go back there.

Now, the light, expectant glow that had sustained him for most of the trip began to fade.

At a bend in the road, he saw the sign nearly hidden by bushes because it tilted at an angle. Red Hawk Landing. Open Memorial Day to Labor Day.

The crackled, worn paint on the leaning sign didn’t bode well, but he took the turn anyway, his truck bumping along an uneven gravel trail that worked its way down a steep decline, heading toward the river’s edge.

When he made the clearing, he heaved a sigh of relief. The place was still in operation. Kids in cutoffs and swimming suits took running dives from the pier. Cars and pickups were parked in front of roughhewn wooden cabins.

He hoped like hell there was still one vacancy left for him and pulled up in front of the small lodge house. The place was clean but showing its age. Looked like the owner needed another handy man to help with a broken spoke or two in the wraparound porch rails and a window frame that appeared to be rotting away.

He put his truck in park and pushed down on the handle to open the door, but halted the moment she stepped onto the porch.

Lena Twohig. Sweet Jesus.

His breath caught, nostalgia blurring her appearance in a golden light that masked the years etched lightly into her features.

Sure, her figure was a tad fuller, her roots darker, but the feeling he got just looking at her as she lifted a hand to guard her eyes against the brilliant sunshine was exactly the same one he’d had all those years ago.

A slow throbbing built in his groin. His body stiffened, going on alert. His gaze swept her womanly frame again, snagging on the generous swell of her bosom, the long, well-toned legs displayed beneath the hem of her shorts. Ten years had been kind indeed.

Then something glinted on the fingers cupping her eyes. A flash of white metal.

He remembered a slender band he’d given her. His last gift. A promise he’d never fulfilled. However much he might wish it wasn’t so, the ring she wore now killed his pleasant dream of rekindling their romance. The desire he’d allowed to build while he’d ogled her began to slowly unwind. Lead settled in his stomach.

Lena was strictly on the look-but-don’t-touch list. What a cryin’ damn shame.

And how awkward. He considered backing out of the lot and heading to the coast to Corpus Christi or Galveston, but he couldn’t work up the interest.

Would she even remember him? He wasn’t the same tall, lanky kid with shaggy hair, all elbows and knees and horny burning need.

His hair was darker, cut short. His face was tanned and toughened by the sun, the blades of his cheeks more pronounced, the corners of his jaw sharper. His body was filled out by years of physical labor.

His hand let go of the keys, and he felt a smile tug at his lips. So, maybe he couldn’t hope for a lusty trip down memory lane, but how much fun would it be to pretend he’d never met her, never been here before? While never touching, he could tease and flirt using his intimate knowledge of her, and she’d never realize he knew exactly what he was doing.

And the mister? Well, he’d keep the games well away from him. He didn’t want to stir up trouble. Just wanted to have a little fun—a challenge that didn’t have a thing to do with cattle or balancing the ranch’s books.

He reached for the cowboy hat on the seat beside him, pushed open the door to his truck and stepped down to the ground. Once there, he put on his hat and strode toward the porch steps.

Her gaze swung his way and swept him briefly head to toe. She pasted on a smile of welcome, although he noted caution dug a line between her brows.

“Howdy, ma’am,” he said, touching the brim of his hat.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Her voice was huskier than he remembered but still had a lilting quality that caressed his nerve endings. Damn shame she was taken. He’d like nothing better than to hear that voice greeting him in the morning from the pillow next to his.

The throbbing that had begun at his first glimpse of her tall, statuesque figure intensified. Inconveniently, because he couldn’t think past the urgency in his loins. He cleared his throat. “I was hoping you had a vacancy. One of the cabins.”

“I’m sorry. We’re booked up.” She gave him a polite smile. “All I have are a couple of rooms in the lodge.”

She’s hoping I’ll pass. He returned her smile with a grin that stretched slowly across his face. “That’ll be fine then.”

“We aren’t fancy,” she said, eyeing his Lucchese boots. “I do provide meals in the dining room, but we don’t have a lot of amenities. Most folks come on weekends to float the river. The cabins have added features, their own barbeque pits and small fridges, but you’d have to take your meals in the dining room, and you’d have to share a bathroom.”

Gabe gave her an easy smile. “I just came to fish. Do you have poles to rent?”

She raised her brows a little bit. “Of course. And we can provide bait—worms and crickets. The gift shop has some fancy lures.”

“I’m hopin’ I don’t actually catch much.” He gave her a brief smile. “Fishin’s man-code for bein’ lazy.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed.

Had it been his smile?

“Well, you can register inside,” she said, pointing toward the door behind her. “Kayla’s at the desk. She’ll get you settled.” She cleared her throat. “How long do you plan to stay?”

“A couple of weeks, ma’am.” He looked around the clearing and then swept her body with a quick glance. “That ought to be long enough.”

He could see the questions in her eyes. And a hint of anxiety.

He hadn’t meant to make her worry and wondered at its cause—unless she was feeling the same lazy heat that was burning through him.

Damn inconvenient she was married, because he’d have loved to entice her into his bed. Gabe wasn’t the least shy about going after what he wanted, and he wanted her. At least to see whether she was still as hot-blooded and adventurous as she’d been all those years ago when he’d been a boy not yet sure of himself, and she’d been a girl ready to take on the role of sexual tutor.

Again, he touched the brim of his hat and walked toward the door. He fought the urge to glance back and see if she was still watching him.

Best not take this little game too far. The last thing he wanted was to walk into the end of a shotgun held by a jealous husband. That had already happened to him once, and he’d been damn sure ever since that any woman he pursued was completely free.

He stepped through the lodge’s door and pulled the scents of Pine-Sol and lemon oil into his nose. Neither could quite mask the lingering floral scent of her perfume. He shook his head, wondering why he’d insisted on staying. There was nothing for him here. He’d have been better off heading straight back to the ranch, but then he suspected he’d just be surlier than ever since his expectations hadn’t been met.

Still, for a moment when he’d first seen her, he’d felt something inside him relax. At the very least, if he stayed he could satisfy his curiosity about her life. And maybe he could finally let go.

I’m in Nashville! Come join me if you can!

If you live anywhere near Nashville, you might want to head to the Airport Marriott on Saturday. From 3-6 PM a slew of wonderful authors, including myself and my sister Elle James, will be signing books! I’ll have print copies of Reaper and Texas Cowboys, Volume 1 & Volume 2.

For more information about the conference, click on the picture above!

Mia Hopkins: THIRSTY (Giveaway)

Hey, everyone! I’m so glad to be back on Delilah’s blog today to share my newest release, Thirsty. It’s the first book in my Eastside Brewery series, starring a family of gangster ex-cons who start a craft brewery in their old neighborhood.

Thirsty launched yesterday. Please enjoy this short excerpt and enter the special release week giveaway below.

THIRSTY

A gangster hiding from his past. A single mom fighting for her future. Can she show this bad boy the man he’s meant to be?

My name is Salvador Rosas. Back in the barrio, my past is written on the walls: ESHB. Short for East Side Hollenbeck, my father’s gang—my gang. Hell, it’s a family tradition, one that sent both my brothers away. They used to call me “Ghost” because I haunted people’s dreams. Now I’ve got nothing going for me except a hipster gringo mentoring me in a new career. An ex-con making craft beer? No mames.

Still, people in this neighborhood look out for one another. That’s how I became Vanessa Velasco’s unwelcome tenant. Chiquita pero picosa. She’s little, but with curves so sweet they’re dangerous. I remember Vanessa from the old days, the straight-A student with big plans. Plans that were derailed by another kid stupid enough to think he was bulletproof. Now Vanessa knows better than to believe in empty promises. There’s fire in her . . . and if I touch her, I might get burned.

I’m trying everything I can to go straight. But when East Side Hollenbeck comes calling, I might have to risk it all to find out if there’s a future for Vanessa and me. Because she’s the only one who can quench my thirst for something real.

AVAILABLE NOW

Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Google Play | iBooks | Kobo

Add THIRSTY to your TBR pile on Goodreads

“Thirsty held me captivated from its first page to its last with its heartrending, raw and beautiful story…It is a singular reading experience.”—USA Today

“Thirsty is a sizzling, emotionally intense story that is both gritty and heartwarming, an addictive page-turner that will stay with me for a long time to come.”—New York Times bestselling author Cathryn Fox

“Thirsty is sexy and soul-wrenching, with Sal’s irresistible voice luring you through a living, breathing Los Angeles. Vanessa and Sal’s chemistry sizzles right off the page. Five smoldering, tattooed stars!”—USA Today bestselling author Sierra Simone

“Thirsty is an amazing read! I stayed up way too late to finish and haven’t stopped thinking about the characters. Highly recommended!”—USA Today bestselling author Molly O’Keefe

EXCERPT

The ride starts with a burst of music like a jack-in-the-box. We glide backward and over a couple of times. The Ferris wheel stops to let other passengers on. At the very top, our carriage swings back and forth before it goes still.

Now I can see my neighborhood from a different viewpoint, high above. The lights of the carnival are bright and beautiful. The smells of tacos, hot dogs, and popcorn fill my nose. People pack the church parking lot. Cars line the street, and in the surrounding houses, lights in the windows show where families are talking or watching TV or having dinner.

“How are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m all right.”

She’s looking at the same things I am. I wonder if she is seeing the same details. I stroke her hair and take another risk. “So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Starting something with me?”

She takes a deep breath but doesn’t say anything.

“What are your doubts?” I say.

“Are you kidding?” She snorts. “You’re seriously asking me that?”

I laugh a little. “Okay, well. Besides the obvious.”

“You have your own life. I have mine. You’re trying to rebuild from the ground up. I’m trying to secure my daughter’s future. We’re heading in different directions.”

She isn’t wrong. Life has disappointed her in such deep and cruel ways, I don’t blame her for protecting herself. But even as she tells me this—the truth about how we’re not right for each other—I feel how right it is to talk to her, to hold her hand, to show her who I am. “I have an idea,” I say. “Probation.”

“What?”

“I’m only around for two months, right?”

“Right.”

“Spend those two months with me.” I look into her eyes. “I want to be with you, Vanessa.”

“Sal—”

“I’ll be gone before I have a chance to disappoint you.” When the words leave my mouth, I try to ignore how pathetic they sound. “We’re adults, not dumb kids. We won’t lose our heads.” I run my fingers through her silky hair. “I swear to God, every time I look at you, I feel . . .” I reach for the most honest word I can find. “Thirsty.”

ABOUT MIA HOPKINS

Award-winning author Mia Hopkins writes lush romances starring fun, sexy characters who love to get down and dirty. She’s a sucker for working class heroes, brainy heroines and wisecracking best friends. She lives in the heart of Los Angeles with her roguish husband and waggish dog.

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SPECIAL THIRSTY RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY

Would you like to win an Amazon gift card? I’m giving away one $20 card and two $5 cards. Enter the Rafflecopter by clicking here.

Latest Puzzle to Play!

I’m buried packing for conference, getting nails done, and wrapping up an editing job I’m already late completing! So, here’s a quick puzzle to play while I continue stressing out.

Hint: This one’s coming March 20th! Isn’t it pretty?!

Karen Stivali: Exposed

One of my favorite things about my friends in the romance community, aside from their stellar writing skills, is their passionate commitment to having romance novels depict healthy, loving relationships featuring people of all orientations falling in love in varied combinations. The premise for this anthology is that indie bookstore owner Emma Davis and her best friend, college professor Rose Everheart, both owe a debt of gratitude to the literacy foundation that changed their lives. When they’re trying to come up with an idea to raise money for the foundation, they combine the viral popularity of Hot Dudes Reading with the enormous success of the Naked Rowers charity calendars and the idea for Hot Naked Guys Reading is born.

The calendar will feature men who are not only irresistibly sexy, but have been named to Top 30 Under 30 lists in their respective fields, posed in famous libraries throughout the country. The Expose Yourself to a Good Book campaign draws the attention of photographers, reporters and other professionals. People often find love where they least expect it, when they’re not looking for it, so this anthology explores the journeys of not only the models but the crew, the organizers and all the people brought together in the creation of this charity calendar. And, because in the real world there are people of all sexualities, gender identities and preferences, readers will find m/f, m/m, f/f and ménage stories, told by award-winning and bestselling authors from the romance community in this limited-release collection.

As someone who’s written both m/f and m/m romance for many years, it is my hope that the writing community—both readers and publishers—will become more open to series with mixed pairings. Many television shows have finally managed to incorporate LGBT characters into their ensemble casts and no longer just as the humorous sidekick, but as central characters depicted in relationships that viewers can cheer for—who doesn’t love Oliver and Collin on How To Get Away With Murder? I would love for the romance world to embrace this concept, and it’s starting to, but isn’t quite there yet. The publishers of my m/f books didn’t want me to give my LGBTQ secondary characters their own books even when other side characters had been allowed their own stories and my m/m publishers publish only LGBTQ characters, so my straight secondary characters couldn’t get their own books either. This anthology was a chance to take things even a step further and try to have as many different pairings as possible represented in one collection.

And, since the Naked Rowers charity calendar was part of  the inspiration for the story, I’ve really enjoyed the opportunity to support their work. If you’re not familiar with them it’s a charity calendar that features artfully photographed groups of naked members of the Rowing team at the University of Warwick. Out of their student Straight/Gay Alliance they came up with the idea to raise money to combat homophobia in sports with these beautiful calendars featuring beautiful naked men. They’re really an amazing organization (and their calendars are truly beautiful—as are the sexy naked men featured in them!) so if you haven’t heard of them I highly recommend you check them out by googling Warwick Rowers. You’ll not only find their website but tons of videos, interviews and other information about the good their charity has done and how much their organization has been able to expand since they started a few years ago. Projects like this also give me hope for a more positive society where everyone is treated equally and with respect, so I support them whenever and however I can.

Links to find the Anthology, which is only 99 cents!

Amazon http://amzn.to/2C8PkWV

iBooks https://apple.co/2BR74KR

Barnes & Noble http://bit.ly/2Bln8U3

Kobo http://bit.ly/2nWp6lz

Exposed

Hot. Naked. Guys. Reading.

When the sexiest Top 30 Under 30 men agree to pose naked for the “Expose Yourself To A Good Book” charity calendar, their hot bodies aren’t the only thing that gets EXPOSED. Ten brand new romances with M/F, M/M, F/F and ménage pairings from bestselling and award winning authors, there’s something for everyone in this limited release anthology.

About the stories in the collection:

Level Up by Annabeth Albert:   When Landon, a genius physicist, is picked for a charity calendar, he must deal with an inconvenient attraction to Bailey, his rising-star photographer. Can he slay enough demons from his past to ensure a future together with him?

Wishing by Karen Booth:   Jobless and painfully single, Samantha agrees to drive musician Duncan to a photo shoot. He’s in town for only five days, so sexy, and she’s eager for a no-strings fling. But Duncan shoots straight for the heart, making her unsure how she’ll ever survive his goodbye.

Kate Likes Girls by Amy Jo Cousins:   Garden center manager Kate Rhee is on a mission. No more hook ups with women or second-guessing her recent break up with an unavailable man. Too bad the foxy, pink-haired bar owner she meets at a naked calendar photo shoot has sworn off girlfriends. Because Kate isn’t doing casual. She can totally resist that temptation. Totally.

Ghost by Robin Covington:   Oliver Burns publicly bragged he’d sign the reclusive artist “G” — creator of the First Nations graphic novel, Ghost Warriors — to his comic publishing company. But that gets tough when “G” is Gareth Rain — the man he pulled a post-one-night-stand runner on years ago and the man he’s never forgotten.

Rigged by Vanessa North:   For Kaitlyn, seeing her best friend Gordon naked is no big deal—until watching Sean tie him up changes everything.

Thrown Off Track by Tamsen Parker:   Teague has been License to Game’s bassist for over a decade, during which time he’s slept with almost everyone in his path. But it’s always felt like going through the motions. Until he sees his bandmate Christian naked at a charity photoshoot and suddenly, he knows what it is to want.

Natural Enemies by Roan Parrish:   When buttoned-up botanist Stefan Albemarle meets freewheeling urban gardener Milo Rios, it’s hatred at first sight. But hatred quickly turns to lust as Milo shows him how exquisite it can feel to lose control. When opposites attract, love blooms in unexpected places.

The Watermark by Tiffany Reisz:   Jason “Still” Waters’ life looks perfect from the outside—money, fame, and the words “World Champion Bull-Rider” after his name. But Jason has a secret, one he never planned on telling anybody…until he meets Simone. She’s the kinky girl of his dreams…and his conservative family’s worst nightmare.

Legal Briefs by Karen Stivali:   When organizing a naked charity calendar puts Rose’s tenure bid in jeopardy, the last person she wants help from is Michael, the gorgeous, arrogant lawyer she butted heads with during his shoot. He’ll defend her for free, but if their secrets come out they could both pay with their hearts.

About Karen Stivali

Karen Stivali is a prolific writer, compulsive baker and chocoholic with a penchant for books, movies, and fictional British men. She’s also the multiple award-winning author of contemporary straight and LGBTQ+ romances. She writes novels about love…like real life, only hotter.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/karenstivali/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KarenStivaliAuthor/

Website: http://karenstivali.com/

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/karenstivali/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/KarenStivali/

Claire Gem: When Imagination Becomes Reality

Or vice versa. In the writing of my latest release, Spirits of the Heart, I had a very creepy event occur that literally stalled the completion of the book for over eighteen months.

In June of 2015, I was in the middle of crafting my new supernatural suspense, set on the grounds of an abandoned mental asylum in the town where I grew up. My sister, Terri, who is a professional photographer as well as my cover designer, spent the day with me driving around the old campus of the Middletown Psych Center. The asylum, which officially closed the doors of its last building in 1996, had stood vacant for almost twenty years. While some of the buildings were repurposed, others were left to crumble under the cruelty of time and vagrants. One building in particular, Talcott Hall, called to me.

Terri took photos for the cover and book trailer while I spun tales in my head about what would happen next in my novel. Although it was surrounded by eight-foot tall chain link fence, we spent most of our time there. It had served as the “maximum security” unit—the one reserved for the most disturbed, the most violent of patients. The vibes around this monstrous brick edifice were almost palpable. It was as though the walls themselves had absorbed some of the pain, fear, loneliness, and desperation of the patients it housed, and could be felt even from behind the chain link barrier.

My research into the history of mental health facilities revealed the horrors patients endured throughout the 1800s, and well into the next century. Admitting diagnoses ranged from melancholia, or depression, to epilepsy, and even diabetes. Because the medical community did not understand the causes for the seizures caused by the two latter conditions, they labeled them as mental illness, and people were locked away. Families often abandoned their kin there, sometimes not even taking responsibility for their burial after they died. It is rumored that wealthy men who tired of their wives admitted them for melancholia, then had the marriage annulled and went off to find another wife.

“Treatments” could more accurately defined as medieval torture. Unruly patients were often bound like mummies, wrapped tightly in cold, wet sheets until they became more tractable. Many asylums housed rows of porcelain bathtubs in their basements, where patients were soaked in hot water for long hours until it drew the fight out of them. Not to mention the drugs, experimental surgical treatments (like lobotomies), or electric shock treatments.

It is no wonder that old asylums are considered by paranormal investigators to be the most haunted of places. If ever there were ever good reasons for a spirit to be confused, trapped, and unable to move on, these poor souls had them.

In Spirits of the Heart, Talcott Hall is where the spirits of many tormented souls, including a little girl and her father, remain trapped.

Spirits of the Heart

Addiction counselor Laura Horton returns from college to move in with an old friend and start her career. But her homecoming is jarring. Her friend moves out, leaving Laura alone with the gorgeous but intimidating ex-boyfriend—in a house that snugs up to an ancient graveyard.

Officer Miller Stanford is a man with a shattered past. His alcoholic dad destroyed their family, a weakness Miller is terrified will consume him too. The last thing he needs is a sexy, blonde addiction counselor watching his every move. When he begins to see specters in the dark, he starts questioning his own stability.

But Laura sees her too—a pathetic child-spirit searching for her father. When Laura starts digging into old asylum records, the eerie events escalate . . . Can Miller and Laura uncover the secrets of Talcott Hall without jeopardizing their love—and lives—in the process?

Buy Links:

Createspace | Amazon | Book Trailer

After spending that day with Terri collecting photos and vibes from Talcott Hall to complete the writing of Spirits of the Heart, my muse was on fire. I was nearly halfway through writing the novel when . . .

Two weeks later, the building burned to the ground in a mysterious fire that was labeled arson, with no suspects ever apprehended.

For over a year, my “muse” went on strike. It seemed no matter what I did, I couldn’t write another word on my book. I had known how the story ended (or thought I had), and had already outlined almost have of the novel. But I was so heartbroken that the building, my inspiration, was gone, I just couldn’t write about it.

Until I figured out a way to weave the fire into the story. I contacted one of the firemen, Nick Elia, and gained permission to use some of his fantastic pictures of the blaze in my trailer. At one of the book signings in Middletown, I met Nick in person, and he related the strange occurrences that happened the night of that fire.

He was off duty, but heard the first alarm pulled on his radio—to a location clear across town from the Psych center. His colleagues reported that when they got to that location and found no fire, they were summoned to another alarm downtown. Again, no fire. This happened three times before they finally saw the smoke billowing from over the Middletown Psych Center. By the time the trucks arrived, the entire building was engulfed. Being a photography buff, Nick came to the scene to shoot the fantastic pictures I used in my book trailer. These, along with the photos taken by Terri two weeks earlier, are the last photographs in existence of Talcott Hall.

Claire Gem

About the Author

Strong Women, Starting Over

~Redefining Romance~

Claire is a multi-published, award winning author of five titles in the genres of contemporary romance, supernatural suspense, and women’s fiction. She also writes Author Resource guide books and presents seminars on writing craft and marketing.

Her supernatural suspense, Hearts Unloched, won the 2016 New York Book Festival, and was a finalist in the 2017 RONE Awards. Also in 2017, her women’s fiction, The Phoenix Syndrome, was a finalist in the National Reader’s Choice Awards, and her contemporary romance, A Taming Season, was a Literary Award of Merit finalist in the HOLT Medallion Awards. Her latest release, Spirits of the Heart, was a finalist in the 2017 “I Heart Indie Awards.”

Creating cross-genre fiction she calls “supernatural suspense,” Claire loves exploring the paranormal and the unexplained, and holds a certificate in Parapsychology from the Rhine Research Center of Duke University.

A New York native, Claire has lived in five of the United States and held a variety of jobs, from waitress to bridal designer to research technician—but loves being an author best. She and her happily-ever-after hero, her husband of 39 years, now live in central Massachusetts.

Claire is available for seminars & media interviews & loves to travel for book promotional events.

Media Links:

Website: http://www.clairegem.com

Blogs: http://www.clairegem.wordpress.com

http://www.hauntedpathways.wordpress.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/clairegem.author

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/gemwriter

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8284235.Claire_Gem

Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/2nabvbm

Youtube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCO-vB7WDZhEQ8U4YpC937ng

Read a sexy excerpt from DAGGER!

I hope many of you have bought and are buried in the pages of my second Montana Bounty Hunters story, Dagger. I love this series. I’m hoping you do, too, because I want to write many, many more! I love the takedowns, love the sparring between the main characters. I love the people they work with and meet along the way—like Butler’s mama and Lila from Dagger. I keep thinking about Lila and her firefighter and wonder whether I need to write something to resolve her love life…

Not everything is roses between Dagger and Lacey—and it shouldn’t be or the story would be pretty boring. They have problems from the past to resolve, and they’re both hot-headed as hell. Enjoy the sexy excerpt below. Lacey disobeyed his instructions and put herself in danger, and Dagger doesn’t know whether to spank her or yell at her. Lacey, as always, takes matters, and something of his, in her hands…

Let me know whether you like the idea of more bounty hunters and what you might like to see happen in future stories. ~DD

Excerpt from Dagger

“Thought so. The issue’s just me.” She lifted a finger and pointed it, and then tapped his chest right over his heart. “The problem is you don’t want me as a partner. Well, you can rest assured, I don’t want you either. But now that I know how this job works, I can hire on somewhere else where my skills will be appreciated.”

He snorted. “What skills? The ability to give a bail jumper’s mom a facial? Quick-change artist?”

“I’m damn good talking to people—better than you.” She tapped him again, and his hand snaked out to grab her finger.

In the next breath, he grabbed her waist and pulled her halfway over the console. His mouth slammed against hers.

Lacey tasted blood. She bit his lip and jerked back her head.

His chest rose fast, his nostrils flared.

Without breaking from his gaze, she unclipped her seat belt and climbed over the console to straddle his lap, bumping into the gear shift and the steering wheel. At this second, she didn’t care about any bruises. She had to be close, had to spread her legs over his lap, and had to move against him, because she knew he was hard, and she had to feel the proof against her sex.

She gripped his shoulders and ground against him, yelping when he clapped his big hands on both sides of her ass then slid his palms under her skirt. The scrape of his calluses over her tender backside sent a shiver down her spine. Moisture filled her channel.

She kissed him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth to stroke his, and began to move, grinding forward and back.

The seat moved beneath them, easing the pressure of the steering wheel, and she smiled against his mouth. His hands slipped between their bodies, and she lifted just enough to let him reach his zipper.

Still, she kissed him, because she wanted their mouths sealed—no chance of either of them saying the wrong thing and ending this encounter. She had to get him inside her.

Then his fingers plucked at her thong, moving it aside, and he nudged into her entrance.

Frantic now with her pulse racing, she reached down, wrapped her fingers around his shaft and centered it. With a breathy moan, she sank, drawing away her hand and sighing as she took him inside. Lord, he was just as she remembered. Thick, long, and just as desperate as she was. His fingers dug into her backside, and he shoved her up and down—not that she needed any coaxing.

Needing air, she lifted her head. For leverage, she flattened a palm against the ceiling and gripped the head rest behind him. Moving faster now, she didn’t care that the car rocked and the seat beneath them squeaked.

Jesus, they’d been here before. Fucking on the side of the highway after a football game because they hadn’t been able to wait. “Feels so damn good,” she whispered.

He groaned. “Didn’t use a condom.”

“Clean. Pill.” The words huffed out.

“Clean. Always use the fuckers. Leland?”

She shook her head. “Never fucked him. Couldn’t. Think he was screwing his paralegal.”

He laughed and flexed his hips, slamming upwards into her body. “Thank God. Just imagining his hands on you…” He shook his head. “Give me a tit.”

She grinned, arched her back, then pushed down her top and one bra cup to free a breast. Before she pulled away, his mouth was on her, his teeth clamping around the tip.

She hissed between her teeth, and more moisture flooded her channel below. With her movements restricted to shallow rolls of her hips, she squeezed him with her inner muscles and quickened the back-and-forth motions of her hips. His cock expanded—or maybe her inner walls were swelling, she couldn’t be sure—but the space inside her where he moved felt tight, raw, so freaking hot. And the tension building in her belly ratcheted up. “I’m gonna come,” she gasped.

He bit down on the pebble-hard tip.

Sensations zapped her. She shouted, jerking against him as pleasure blew through her body. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, but it didn’t matter, because he was moving, slamming upward, his strong hips thrusting over and over, until she hung limply inside his embrace.

When he came, he clutched her against him, strong arms wrapped around her back as he rocked and shuddered.

“That was good.” She rubbed her cheek against his.

“Always was,” he said, his voice thicker now.

She opened her eyes and glanced across the road at the repair shop. Several people were exiting the side door. One of them was Jason-Jethro. Her body stiffened. “He’s here,” she said, pushing against his embrace. “He’s getting in the scary dude’s truck.”

His chest billowed against her, and he released her.

She scrambled across the console, banging her head against the ceiling, her knee again hitting the gear shift. By the time her ass was in her seat, he’d hit the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. “What now?”

Grim-faced, he reached for his phone.

Claudia Blood: How a Writer Gets Her Story on the Page

Thanks DD for inviting me to guest post.

Have you wondered how a writer gets their story on the page? We writers come in different flavors, from people who plan out every tiny detail (plotters) to those who wing it (pantsers).

Let me tell you a little about how my quirky writer’s brain works.

My life would be so much easier if I was content to daydream about stories instead of actually having to write them down.

It’s true. When I decided to write the stories down, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Plucking a story from my imagination throws their faults into glaring light. Every blemish and WTF moment highlighted with a big beam of what-were-you-thinking. And then there’s the problem that the things that made so much sense to me, make no sense to anyone else who reads the words. Dang brain.

I realized that it was the details and assumptions that could bridge the gap. I had to go back again and again and again to pull forth the details to enhance the idea and make it more understandable for the rest of the world not blessed/cursed with my brain.

I’m what’s called a pantser. I write by the seat of my pants. I have no outline and only a vague idea of what’s going on. Many times I start with a scene. I haven’t a clue who anyone is or why they’re doing what they’re doing. Sometimes I’m not super clear what they’re even doing.

Example 1: Fantasy Romance

A man walks into a big government building and the crowd parts for him until he is first in line at a machine which can tell if you are human. The crowd is there waiting for him to fail.

Then I have to go back and start asking myself questions about the scene.

Why are they testing to see if people are human? Because this is after the world of myth and the human world merged and they can’t always tell. (of course…)

Why is everyone watching? They think he is about to fail the test and don’t like him much.

Why? He spent the previous night with a shifter and he may no longer be human. Oh, and he is a hard ass boss, so they don’t mind seeing him brought down.

If he knows the machine can tell he is no longer be human, why did he come to the office? He doesn’t know what happened the previous night. (Huh.)

See what I mean? I go back again and again until things make sense outside of my head.

This scene became Book of Secrets which did win some RWA chapter contests, but is yet unpublished.

Example 2: Sci-Fi Erotica

A man who opens up a spacecraft shuttle pod and wakes the passenger with cunnilingus.

Ummmm…. Why would he wake someone up with oral sex like that? That’s how all passengers and some special crew wake up on the cruise spaceship. They choose from a menu of options as to how they would like to start their journey.

I’m still a bit flabbergasted. Not really sure where to start. Who are the special crew that can also be woken up this way? Why the Sirens, the ones who fuel the ship.

How do Sirens fuel the ship? The ship runs on sexual energy and Sirens are humans who are able to direct the power of their orgasms to the ship’s drive.

Who is he? He’s on the Lick Squad and is part of the crew that wakes the passengers.

So what’s the big deal in this scene? It’s sort of interesting but why should I care? The Siren is getting woken up because the one she is replacing died of a broken heart. He’s doing it for the money and does not want to get close to anyone. A little giddy voice says they need to get TO-ge-ther.

As you can see, it would be so much easier if I just kept the daydreams in my head, but I am a pantser and this is how I get the story out.

No matter the technique authors strive to tell you a great story. Tell me about your favorite scene in a book. Or that scene that makes you want to pick the book up and read it all over again.