Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 351

Mia Hopkins and Genevieve Turner: California Cowboys (Giveaway)

Hello, Delilah fans!

My latest book, Cowboy Resurrection, is about a bullfighter and a city-slicker businesswoman who join forces to produce a rodeo in their tiny hometown. In between the bickering and the banter, these sexy opposites fall for each other…right into bed.

Cowboy Resurrection is set in rural California. Today I’m chatting with fellow author Genevieve Turner about what makes California—and California cowboys—so special.

I hope you enjoy our conversation. We’re also sponsoring a giveaway. Instructions are posted below.

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MH: We both write romance set in California. Why did you choose the Golden State as a setting for your work?

GT: A common piece of writing advice is to write what you know, and I’ve lived in California my entire life (my family’s been here since the late 1700s), so when it came to choosing a setting for my books, I never really considered any other option. I don’t think I could ever live anywhere else—I love it here too much. It also makes it easy, research wise, since I can just step outside to get ideas for descriptions and settings.

MH: California is home for me, too. I was born here, but in my twenties, I got the chance to travel and even live abroad. Being away gave me fresh perspective and a lot of appreciation for my home state. That appreciation lasted long after I moved back. In my stories, setting is a character—the beach, the inner city, the high desert, or the mountains.

GT: People also don’t realize that California has a huge agricultural and ranching industry, so it’s fun to write about places that someone familiar with only LA or San Francisco might not know exist.

MH: Exactly. As a child, I spent time on a grape farm near Delano. All of my cowboy stories are set in this region, the southern part of the Central Valley.

GT: The great thing about California cowboys is that while they’re still rough around the edges (like a cowboy should be), they’re also sophisticated. A California cowboy will work all day getting dirty on the ranch, but once he’s home and showered, he’s totally happy to go out for sushi. Or wine tasting. (Especially if he lives near one of our many wine countries!)

MH: Nothing like a cowboy who knows his chardonnay.

GT: And while he’ll be a total gentleman when he’s taking you to all these fancy spots, he’ll still be a total cowboy when he gets you home. That’s the California cowboy difference.

MH: I agree—that’s the heart of it. Are you working on any California cowboys at the moment?

GT: Right now I’m finishing up Her Cowboy Rival, the next book in my Cowboy of Her Own Series.  Ana has never much liked the charming and arrogant Luke, no matter how he makes her heart race. And since she stole away his best employee, Luke hasn’t liked Ana much either, no matter how she makes his head spin. When they’re forced to collaborate on a charity event, they’ll have to decide: Are they the worst of enemies? Or could they be the best of lovers?

MH: That sounds so juicy!

GT: It’s been so much fun writing this one, since it involves an obstacle race, lots of long runs together on lonely back roads (perfect for kissing), and two people who think they hate each other, but are secretly so hot for each other!

MH: My next project, Cowboy Player, is out in June. It’s the third book in my Cowboy Cocktail series. Rancher Clark MacKinnon is a prankster and a flirt who never takes anything too seriously…until his childhood crush Melody Santos moves back to town and gets a job helping him sell his family’s grass-fed beef. Sparks fly between them. Melody has trust issues following a horrendous breakup, and Clark is a player who’s never been in a serious relationship. Together, they’re a hot, sexy mess!

***

ABOUT THE BOOKS

Rescued By Her Firefighter

Trapped together in the wilderness, a straight-laced scientist and an easy-going fireman will discover opposites don’t just attract—they ignite…

Available at: Amazon | iBooks | Nook | Kobo | Google Play

 

Cowboy Resurrection

Ball-busting businesswoman meets no-holds-barred cowboy.

He’s gonna need a longer rope.

Available at: Amazon | Kobo | iTunes | B&N | Samhain | All Romance | Google Play | Books-A-Million

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Genevieve Turner writes romance fresh from the Golden State. In a previous life, she was a scientist studying the genetics of behavior, but now she’s a stay at home mom studying the intersection of nature and nurture in her own kids.  (So far, nature is winning!)  She lives in beautiful Southern California, where she manages her family and homestead in an indolent manner. For more information, please visit www.genturner.com.

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. When she’s not lost in a story, Mia spends her time cooking, gardening, traveling, volunteering and looking for her keys. She lives in the heart of Los Angeles with her roguish husband and two waggish dogs. For more information, please visit www.miahopkinsauthor.com.

GIVEAWAY

Answer this question in the comments below:

Where would your cowboy take you on date night?

PLEASE INCLUDE YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS.

One randomly chosen winner will receive a $10 Amazon gift card, one ebook copy of Rescued By Her Firefighter, and one ebook copy of Cowboy Resurrection. Contest closes Sunday, March 20, 2016, at midnight PT. Good luck!

Cynthia Young: Eye Miniatures — An Anonymous Token of Love

The sentimental jewelry used during the 18th and 19th centuries is fascinating to me. These tokens of affections are sometimes very elaborate or made from unusual items, such as a loved one’s hair.

One short-lived jewelry trend that started in France sometime in the mid 1700’s and spread to London was the exchange of eye miniatures also known as lover’s eyes. It is generally believed that the Prince of Wales, who later became George IV, popularized this form of jewelry in London.

These portraits feature only an image of the eye, allowing a person to present it to a lover while keeping their identity a secret from others. They were also exchanged among family members. Lockets, containing portraits were another popular item but contained covers to hide the identity of the person. The anonymity of eye miniatures meant they could be worn openly.

Photo Credit: Yale University Art Gallery, Unknown eye, circa 1805-10, Watercolor on ivory.

The trend lasted until the 1820’s. It is estimated that less than 1000 eye miniatures exist in the world today with the Skiers of Birmingham, Ala. owning the largest collection.

My research into eye miniatures inspired my short story, “An Eye for Love”, which will appear in Delilah Devlin’s Rogues, a romantic erotic anthology. My heroine, Lady Olivia, is a collector of eye miniatures who discovers one of her miniatures missing and hires the hero to help her recover it.

For more information on eye miniatures:

Dennis Gaffney, “Gazing Into Lover’s Eyes,” http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/roadshow/tips/loverseyes.html

Candace Hern, “Lover’s Eyes Brooches,” http://candicehern.com/regencyworld/lovers-eye-brooches-origin/

Emma Mustish, “The secret history of lover’s eyes,” http://www.salon.com/2012/01/21/the_secret_history_of_lovers_eyes/

Diana Scarisbrick , “Miniatures and Silhouettes,” in Portrait Jewels (New York: Thames and Hudson, 2011).

Do you own any jewelry that holds sentimental value?

Cynthia Young

cynthiayoungauthor.com

Just Released! DESIRE’S PRISONER, from the Planet Desire series (Contest)

For those of you who aren’t signed up for my newsletter, I have a new release!

Well, this is a new-old story. One I wrote way back when. Because I still love it, I prettied it up and readied it for prime time. Sort of. It’s still a tad raunchier than my current stuff. ¿Cómo es posible?, you ask. You gotta love the alphabet: mf, mff, mfm, and of course, orgies…

But at the core, Desire’s Prisoner is very much a romance between the captain of a pirate space ship and the captain of a prison ship, who also happens to be a prisoner…

Get your copy now for just $0.99! That price won’t last long.

*~*~*~*

Desire’s Prisoner

Love on the edge of the galaxy…

For Captain Adam Zingh, the mission is simple–acquire one hundred wives for him and his crewmates to help colonize a new planet, far from Dominion rule. Rescuing prisoners from penitentiary in deep space should have been a simple in and out operation. The women would be grateful for a second change at freedom, or so he thought. However, he hadn’t yet encountered the stubborn captain of the prison ship.

When pirates overtake their ship, Evena McClure resists, mindful of her duty to protect the women under her command as well as her impending pardon.

The pirate and the prisoner have only a week to seduce the other side to their will.

A pirate’s parlay has never been so sweet!

Get your copy here!

*~*~*~*

Desire’s Slave

Book 2 of the Planet Desire trilogy is coming next month!

After a fellow convict is murdered while she’s guarding the maximum-security cellblock, ex-con Calandra Jones escapes the ship of the pirates who liberated the convicts, determined to make it on her own. Just as she’s attempting to arrange passage on another ship headed for a mining colony, she’s abducted by a handsome slave trader bent on offering her for sale at a potentate’s auction.

Calandra vows to seduce the trader into changing his mind about offering her for sale. A sensual storm erupts during their desert odyssey that culminates when Calandra is sold, and Drago must decide whether he trusts their love enough to launch a rescue.

Reserve your copy here!

*~*~*~*

Contest

For a chance to win a small Amazon gift card, answer me this…

Are you a fan of Sci-Fi romance? Would you like to see more stories in this genre?

Beverly Ovalle: Stealing Hope

I’m an author. There, I said it, not whispered, not ducking my head. I can’t help the flame in my cheeks. I’d happily sit back in a hole and type away at my keyboard, typing the words until they see the light of day, never seeing another soul.

One of the hardest parts? Talking about it. Putting myself out there. I don’t do it for me. I do it for my books, for my characters. They wanted their story to be told. Sometimes too many crowd my head and if I talk about it, I see that look come into people’s eyes.

Really, I’m sane. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it! So, about those stories.

I’ve an affinity for dragons. They fascinate me. The myths and legends, the exotic pets, I’ve read and researched anything I can get my hands on. Yes, I own almost every Dragonology book printed. Fascinating to follow the adventures written there.

I can’t help but believe that they were real. Too many tales weave throughout history. They disappeared somehow. Okay, I see that look in your eye! Just think about it. I have.

It all comes out in my writing. Dragons and the apocalypse, my other obsession.

My series starts with the world dying, missiles exploding, disease spreading and dragons waking. You don’t see all that though. I get right into the nitty gritty of my dragons and their hunt for their fated mate. I just needed the rest to get my mind in the correct place. Starting the background for my dragons to live.

The result? Stealing Hope. Stealing Hope is an erotic paranormal romance-book one in A Dragon’s Fated Heart series.

The apocalypse has come and gone.

Those who survived learned to adapt.

Dragons awaken to once again reign over the skies.

Upon eruption of a volcano, Ari awakens to a changed world, and a knowing that his dragon’s mate is near. He saves her twice—once as a dragon, and again as a man—and wins her confidence.

Hope cried out, moaning, “just change me with pleasure?”

Hope is restless and unfulfilled until she meets Ari, the man of her fantasies. The sensual tension between them heightens with every touch. When their passion explodes, Hope gets pulled into the dragon’s mating ritual…and into a world of erotic sensation she never dreamed existed but now cannot live without. The dragon binds his mate to him with a ritual that shows Hope her true nature in this humorous erotic romance.

Links:

http://www.amazon.com/Stealing-Hope-Beverly-Ovalle-ebook/dp/B018IW60BE/

http://www.amazon.de/Stealing-Hope-English-Beverly-Ovalle-ebook/dp/B018IW60BE/

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Stealing-Hope-Beverly-Ovalle-ebook/dp/B018IW60BE/

http://www.amazon.ca/Stealing-Hope-Beverly-Ovalle-ebook/dp/B018IW60BE/

About the Author

Beverly Ovalle dabbled with writing on and off for years when her best friend finally dared her to submit a story to a writing contest. Beverly decided she had nothing to lose and since she’d always wanted to be an author sent it in and agonized for months waiting to hear back. Contract in hand she has never looked back.

Beverly has been obsessed with dragons and romance since she was a young girl, collecting dragon books and reading everything she could find on them even down to the care of real life dragons. She’s always been slightly panicked that the world as we know it will end, so has prepped for it, haunting survivalist pages and prepper projects she felt she needed in the event SHTF.

An avid fan of all romance, Beverly’s goal is to share her love of the written word and write the hot and erotic romances that she enjoys. She writes what she loves to read and it was only a matter of time before her obsessions crept into her writing for her to share. She hopes you enjoy her tales as much as she loves writing them.

A Navy Veteran, Beverly has traveled around the world and the United States enabling her to bring her settings to life, meeting and marrying her husband of twenty five years along the way for her own romance. Reading romances since the fourth grade she’s followed as the genre changed and spread into the vast cornucopia of romance offered today.

Contact Links:

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

Tsu: https://www.tsu.co/BeverlyO

Website: www.beverlyovalle.com

Blog: www.beverlyovalle.net

Blog:  http://beverlyovalleromance.blogspot.com/

Tumblr:  http://ovalleba.tumblr.com/

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/ovalleba

Twitter: https://twitter.com/FatedDragons

Pinterest:  http://pinterest.com/ovalleba/

LinkedIn:  http://www.linkedin.com/BeverlyOvalle

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+BeverlyOvalle0211/posts

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/SSLYblog

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

Blog:  http://SSLYblog.wordpress.com

A. Catherine Noon: Where Did the Time Go? A Fairytale

Once upon a time, there was a farmer.  This farmer was very busy, because he’d been rude to his wife and she left him to fend for himself in the wilds of the wilderness, with only his little farm to keep at bay the darkness of the big, wide world around him.  Working all day didn’t help, because when he stopped work at night he still had many tasks undone.

One night, a bird flew by looking for his mate and he saw the farmer toiling in the barnyard.  He flew up to the top of the barn to watch for a while, because maybe the farmer missed some hayseeds as he raked up the bedding for the horses and fed the pigs.

After watching for a long time, the bird took pity on the man as he went from one task to the next.  He knew the farmer must be hungry, and so he went hunting for worms in the soft loam by the creek.  Just before dawn, he found it – a fat worm, just waiting to become the bird’s breakfast.  The bird caught it in his beak and flapped his way back to the farmer.  The man sat on a hay bale, watching the sun come up, and the bird arrived.  Just as he set the worm down for the man, the man let a handful of corn fall for the bird in thanks.

About this time, a lady bird saw the action of the bird and her heart swelled for she knew this would be her mate.  She flew up and alighted on the edge of the fence, watching the bird and the man.  The bird took one look at her and made a decision.  Rather than gorging on the good, sweet corn, he hopped back so she could have it.  She ate her fill and the bird – well, the bird, he got his worm.

And that’s why they say “the early bird gets his worm.”  It’s all because the farmer was rude to his wife.

—

“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”

– E.E. Cummings

My links: Blog | Books | Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon | LinkedIn | Pandora

Knoontime Knitting:  Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Ravelry

Noon and Wilder links: Blog | Taurus and Taurus (NSFW) | Website | Facebook | Twitter

The Writer Zen Garden:  The Writers Retreat Blog | Forum | Twitter | Meetup

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Sneak Peak: Desire’s Prisoner (Read Chapter One)

This is a new old story. One I wrote way back when. The first story I ever published—but now, refurbed, prettied up, and readied for prime time. Sort of. It’s also just a tad raunchier than my current stuff. ¿Cómo es posible? You gotta love the alphabet: mf, mff, mfm, and of course, orgies…

And at the core, a romance between the captain of a pirate space ship and the captain of a prison ship who also happens to be another prisoner.

Check it out. It’s coming your way next week…

“Captain, I’ve picked up the ship’s warning beacon.”

Captain Adamarik Zingh straightened from the navigation console. At last. The final stage of his plan was about to unfold. The beacon was programmed to broadcast as soon as any ship approached within hailing distance of the penitentiary. “Let’s hear it.”

His communications mate pressed the intercom switch.

“Warning! You are entering Interplanetary Dominion-controlled space.” The computer-generated message transmitted in the Universal Language. “This ship is a Dominion Prison. Any vessel detected within a one hundred milli-league radius of the ship will be destroyed.”

“Retract the visor,” Adam ordered, ignoring the warning.

The whirring sound that accompanied the retracting curtain of metal made Adam wince, reminding him of the loss of his previous spacecraft. Its state-of-the-art bioluminescent screen would have recreated the view of space without leaving the ship’s hull vulnerable.

But pirates couldn’t be too choosy. The lumbering transport vessel he now captained had enabled his band of raiders to creep close to their target, beneath the blanket of the Dominion’s detector beams. Its unremarkable appearance in this little-traveled part of the universe was a perfect ruse.

“I see her, Adam.” The man at the helm, first mate Cantor Marlow, dipped the prow of the ship leeward. The sudden change in tack caused the old barge to shudder violently as it resisted the gravitational pull exerted by the desolate, uninhabitable planet the larger prison ship orbited. Then a low, ominous groan from the hull itself rattled the consoles, spilling cups and charts onto the floor.

Adam maintained his balance, barely, and turned to glower at his first mate. “Cookie’ll dice your innards for that. He’ll be cleaning grub from the ceiling for a week.”

Cantor shrugged, a wicked twinkle in his eye. “I was just making sure the breaching crewmen were out of their bunks.” His gaze shifted beyond Adam. “There she is.”

Adam glanced through the open portal, searching space beyond the rim of the small planet. An infinite, black night stretched before him. Full of endless possibilities. An irresistible siren’s call that had beckoned him from his first voyage.

Then he saw it. The enormous hull of the prison ship loomed in the distance. Anticipation leapt in his veins. “Alert the breaching crew.”

His first mate grunted. “Lucky sods.”

Three whistles shrilled, followed by the alert message.

“Cantor, you’re in charge,” Adam called over his shoulder as he headed toward the ship’s hold.

“Aye, sir. Good luck—and don’t forget my list.”

Adam slapped his palm against the door button, and it slid silently open. Within the hold, the breaching crew was assembling—or at least he thought it was his crew. Gone were their beards and rough pirate’s clothing. In their place stood well-scrubbed, clean-chinned men.

His security officer, Darak, strode toward him clad in a deep azure shirt tucked into tan leather breeches.

“What in hell are you wearing?”

“It’s just a little something I picked up at our last port of call. Alarian silk.” Darak shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “Quite sturdy material, actually.”

“You look like a damned peacock,” Adam muttered. His gaze swept over the rest of his breaching party, and he fisted his hands on his hips. “I’m capturing a ship with a bloody flock of peacocks.”

Darak cleared his voice and wiped his expression clean of amusement. “The men await your orders, sir. They’re eager for this mission. Every one of them volunteered.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “They fought for the right to board. I’m lucky to have any crew left with blood enough for this capture. Is the breaching craft loaded?”

“Aye, aye, sir. With eight days of supplies, should we need them.”

“Very well. Let’s get on with this.”

Darak pivoted on his heels. “Attention,” he shouted.

The crew leapt to obey, forming two ranks along the bulkhead.

Adam stomped down the line, his nose itching as he passed through a cloud of contesting colognes emanating from his bloodthirsty crew. “Are you planning on conquering them with smell?” he growled. As he passed his medic, he stiffened, and his eyes watered uncontrollably. He paused, sniffing.

Doc blinked rapidly, moisture welling in his own eyes. “It’s the scent of Alarian rose, sir—mixed with the pheromones of a Moldan yak. Very potent.”

Adam growled and stalked back to the front of the formation. “We’ll enter the prison through the docking station. Be quick. Let’s have them contained before they realize we aren’t the warden and her guards. We only have a narrow window of time to get aboard undetected by the Dominion’s security system.” As he delivered his last instruction, he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t trip over your lace.”

“Captain.” Darak lifted a hand.

“Yes, Darak?”

“Sir, the men want to know if we’re certain this is the right prison ship.”

“I paid ten thousand dinars in Earth gold for the information. If it’s not the right ship, you’d best be ready to defend your virtue.” Adam enjoyed a moment’s satisfaction as his crew absorbed the message, their gazes shifting. “We’ve eight days to survive aboard ship before the Intrepid can rendezvous again without Dominion detection.”

Another crew member raised his hand. “Is it really a ship full of female convicts?”

“Aye, and ripe for rescue,” Darak answered, producing muffled laughter and cheers among his shipmates.

“How long have they been deployed?” one yeoman asked.

“Over three years,” Adam answered. “And their last resupply was a year ago. They may all be dead. We might find only a ghost ship.”

“Sir.” Ivan, the science officer and youngest of his crew, lifted two fingers. “What if there aren’t enough suitable women aboard for our purpose?”

“If they’re fertile, they’ll suit,” he replied bluntly. “When does our window open?”

Ivan checked his wrist computer. “The asteroid, Cygnet, will block Dominion detector beams beginning in five minutes.”

“Board up.” Adam shouted. He followed his crew into the breaching craft, scratching his beard and wondering if he should have changed his clothing.

* * *

Before the siren finished its first warning peal, Cell Block Captain Evena McClure rolled out of her bunk and onto her feet in one fluid movement.

“Damn HS block.” Two nights running, she’d answered alarms in the high-security cell block. Although tired and cranky, she raced from her quarters to the cabinet that housed the behavior modification clubs, the only weapons permitted aboard the prison ship. Slapping her palm to the security reader, she waited impatiently until the door latch popped.

At the sound of the heavy thud of her CB sergeant’s footfalls approaching, she tossed her a weapon, and then shouldered her own club.

“Thought I’d get a decent night’s sleep, for once.” Mary Grogan smiled, a flash of startling white against her dark chocolate face as she fell into step beside Evena. “You wanna bet on who’s raising a ruckus this time?”

Evena shook her head. “No, I won’t take that bet. I’d lose.”

Together, the two women rushed down the corridor leading from the guard quarters directly to the security surveillance room. Entering, Evena noted the two women on night watch standing at the viewing panels. “Calandra, what’s the problem?”

The guard darted a glance over her shoulder. “That damn psychopath Celestine refused to don her uniform, again. I sent a couple of guards to persuade her, but she got the drop on them. Celestine’s fashioned a wire whip.” She moved to the side to allow Evena to see the viewing screen. “One guard’s down. The other’s doing her best to keep out of reach.”

Evena frowned as she watched the battle in the cell. The guards’ uniforms were shredded, and one guard was bleeding heavily. “Dammit. I’m going in.”

“Have a care. She’s slicing ribbons off them.” Calandra released the lock on the security gate to the high-risk cell block, and then offered Evena a disgruntled grin. “Why don’t you just kill her? No one’ll miss that one.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but she’s not worth risking my pardon.” Evena slid back the door and jogged toward Celestine Monteval’s cell, Mary once again at her heels.

The occupants of the other cells didn’t alert their fellow prison mate of their approach, evidence that even the most extreme of the violent offenders weren’t rooting for the bitch.

Grunts and curses sounded from the open cell door.

Evena hefted her club, smacking it against her palm loudly as she stood in the door frame.

Celestine spun toward her then let the tail of her whip fall lax against the floor.

Evena spared a single glance at the bloodied guard, who slid down the wall, chest heaving, relief evident in her expression.

A throaty chuckle drew Evena’s attention back to the problem, and she narrowed her eyes.

Celestine was naked except for the tattoo of a crimson snake which undulated across her golden skin, emphasizing a figure that would inflame a monk—which was what Evena felt like these days. Celestine’s perfect white teeth flashed in a triumphant smile. “Captain, did I wake you?” she asked mockingly.

Evena ignored the woman’s taunt. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder at Mary. “While I keep her occupied, get the other two out of here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And Mary? She doesn’t come out of here alive.”

Celestine’s lips thinned into a malevolent grimace, emphasized by the ominous hiss of her homemade whip slapping against the floor.

Evena cocked her head left then right, popping the vertebrae in her neck, before she said in a bored tone, “Okay Celestine, I’m asking you once, nicely, to get back into your uniform.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but I can’t possibly. My skin doesn’t breathe in that damn thing.” She smoothed a hand down her naked flank.

Evena gritted her teeth. Celestine sounded ready to refuse every reasonable offer. However, Evena’s office demanded she offer a peaceable settlement. “Well, I’ll make a deal with you,” she said in a tone that implied she didn’t think Celestine had the intellect to understand. “You put the uniform back on, and I won’t withhold your water rations.”

A frown darkened the stunning face of the psychopath. “You can’t do that. Who made you God?”

“The majority of the women aboard the New Attica elected me CB captain.”

“I don’t recognize your right to order me around. You’re no better than I am.”

Oh yeah? Who’s running this ship, and who’s stuck in an HS cage? Evena’s pride kept the starch in her backbone and her retort behind her teeth. “The women have given me the right. I’m responsible for order aboard this ship. My first duty is to ensure that every prisoner abides by the recycling laws.”

“Here’s what I think of your rules.” Celestine swung her arm wide, jerking it back at the top of the arc to produce a lightning crack of her whip.

Evena dodged right, narrowly escaping the razor-sharp metal.

Celestine advanced, her face red with rage. “It’s not fair. Why do you get the run of the ship, while I’m locked in here?”

“Because you’re nuts, Celestine.” Evena forced herself to stand still, pretending unconcern for her opponent’s approach. The woman was unpredictable. While Evena was confident she could subdue her, and itched for an excuse to take her down, she’d die before she let Celestine know she held a healthy respect for brutality. “Our internal review board sentenced you to this block. I’m merely upholding their ruling.”

Celestine fisted her hands at her sides. “I’m going fucking insane here. I’m from Arturia. I’m not made to be without a partner.”

“You tried to take the face off your last lover, Celestine.”

“The bitch threatened to leave me,” Celestine screeched. “I was just helping her on her way.”

Suddenly, the whip snaked out, wrapping around the end of Evena’s club. Celestine jerked sharply.

The tug was meant to disarm Evena, but she’d anticipated the move and pulled back hard.

Celestine cried out and released the whip to avoid slicing open her hand. Before the whip even hit the floor, she leapt at Evena.

Evena took the force of the other woman’s charge and rolled with it, quickly pinning her to the ground. Grasping Celestine’s hands, she stretched her arms above her head and lowered her body to trap her opponent against the floor, careful to keep her face out of reach of the other woman’s sharp teeth.

Celestine shuddered beneath her, her expression morphing in a second from enraged to sultry. “Oooh, if I’d known you were that hard-up, I’d have issued another kind of invitation.”

Evena wiped all emotion from her face. “Shut up.”

“What’s the matter? Want some?” she asked with a roll of her belly.

The smell of the woman’s sweat was pungent, yet strangely enticing. Evena glowered, disgusted she’d even noticed. “I’d sooner fuck my nightstick.”

Celestine’s sultry pout grew surly, and she resumed bucking beneath Evena, nearly unseating her.

Evena shifted, clamping her forearm over Celestine’s and freeing a hand to grab Celestine’s hair. She lifted the other woman’s head off the floor then slammed it down. “This is the way this is going down.” Thump. “I’m getting up slowly. You’re not going to so much as twitch.” Thump. “Because if you do, Mary will use her stick to lobotomize you.” She twisted her fingers into the hair and tugged hard. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Celestine ground out.

Evena stared into the dangerous woman’s eyes until Celestine finally turned away. “I’m getting up now. When I say so, I want to see you putting on your uniform.”

“I’m not wearing it.” Celestine’s voice was petulant and small. “It smothers me.”

Evena fisted a hand in her hair, forcing Celestine to look at her. “Listen, you spoiled little bitch! You haven’t the right to withhold your sweat or piss. If you don’t comply, you won’t get your ration of water. Do you understand me?”

Celestine snarled and pitched beneath her.

Evena’s already bad mood soured. She wished like hell the woman would lay still. Too much time had passed since she’d touched another person’s naked skin. That she was lying on top of a professional courtesan further frosted her ass.

Two shrill whistles sounded.

Evena’s head snapped up. “Damn. The warden.” She let Celestine’s head thump back against the floor and sprang off her. She swept up her club from the floor and shot a glance to Mary. “I’ll have to let you clean up here.”

Mary grinned, slapping her club against her palm. “My pleasure.”

With adrenaline still pumping through her veins, Evena passed the HS gate and loped toward the docking station. A visit from the warden could mean news of her pardon—if she wasn’t just delivering new prisoners. At the very minimum, the prison galley would receive its annual shipment of protein packs and water to supplement their recycled stores.

As she approached the docking station, she heard screams from within. The door slid open, and three of her guards ran out. “Captain, pirates are boarding!”

Cold dread settled in her stomach. “Get to the security room. Arm yourselves. Sound the general alert.”

Evena raised her club and entered the room overflowing with men—brightly dressed men. And more were climbing through the docking port. Four of her guards struggled wildly to escape their captors’ arms. “Release the women,” she shouted.

All gazes turned toward her. Evena wondered whether she should’ve waited for reinforcements as one man strode toward her. Unlike his comrades, he was dressed entirely in black. His dark, disheveled hair brushed the tops of his shoulders, and a many-days-old beard stubbled his chin. His dark gaze swept over her in a single quick appraisal, burning her skin.

Evena’s pulse pounded loudly in her ears, and a quiver of awareness fluttered deep in her belly. He was a large man, broad-shouldered and heavily muscled, and despite his wary scowl, a handsome one. She raised her club higher and bent her knees, sinking into a fighting stance.

The bearded pirate raised a hand. “I come in peace.”

Evena dropped her glance to the laser sword at his side before mocking his claim with a cynical lift of her brow.

He spread his hands wide and took another step toward her. “We couldn’t be sure who would be aboard.”

She snorted. “What? You couldn’t read the warning on the portal? This is the New Attica. A prison ship. The Dominion doesn’t have a sense of humor about intruders. And weapons aren’t permitted here.”

His frown deepened, and he took another step forward. “That isn’t exactly a toothpick you wield.”

Evena resisted the urge to retreat. “I’ll repeat. You and your men have trespassed on a Dominion prison. We’ve nothing of value to steal here.”

“I take it you’re in charge?”

“Yes, and I’m ordering you to depart immediately.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that for at least another eight days—that is, if we don’t want to be caught in the security beams and obliterated.”

“Not my problem.”

The corners of his lips twitched. “You’re a stubborn wench—and a bit bloodthirsty. I like that. Aren’t you curious why we’re here?”

“Nope,” she said, shifting from one foot to the other. Aware of movement around her, she was unable to look toward it, as the bearded man was now within the reach of her club. “Like I said, we’ve nothing here of value.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. We’re here to conduct a little business with you and your fellow inmates.”

“Then you’ve wasted your time. What exactly do you think we have to bargain with?”

“Yourselves.”

“Explain that before I beat in what’s left of your brains.”

“Very well. We seek wives.”

Sabrina York: Seven Nights of Sin (Contest Ends 4/2)

Releasing March 14th!

Tiara Giveaway!

SEVEN NIGHTS OF SIN

One night, one tryst can change everything…

Seven Sensuous stories by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Sabrina York, with bestselling and award-winning authors Maggi Andersen, Lynne Conolly, Eliza Lloyd, Suzi Love, Hildie McQueen, and Victoria Vane. Enter a world of passion and mystery where dashing heroes and dauntless heroines come together in a scorching conflagration that will will tip your world on its end.

LUSCIOUS by Sabrina York

Revenge…or redemption? Which will he choose?

ONE SCANDALOUS NIGHT by Maggi Andersen

Can one night with a rake be enough for a lifetime?

THE DEVIL YOU KNOW by Victoria Vane

 She found heaven in the devil’s arms.

UNDER A SILVER MOON by Hildie Mcqueen

The shadows of the past fall over a man and a woman attempting to start anew.

MY DEAR MR. FORRESTER by Eliza Lloyd

He can’t resist a woman in trouble. Will he ever learn?

WHAT HE WANTS by Lynne Connolly

Love hides in unexpected places…

PLEASURE HOUSE BALL by Suzi Love

Love revealed at a courtesan’s ball.

Preorder Now:

AMAZON: http://www.amazon.com/Seven-Nights-Sin-Bestselling-Historical-ebook/dp/B019EP2X06

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1063152528

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Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/seven-nights-of-sin-2

LUSCIOUS by SABRINA YORK

When Deveny Hargrove rescues a waif in a rainstorm in the middle of nowhere, he has no idea that she represents his long-awaited chance at vengeance. When she offers him her virginity—in an attempt to escape an unwanted society marriage—he has to agree. To his surprise, very little of his motivation stems from punishing her brother.

The fact is, Matilda Paddington represents his chance at revenge…or redemption…but his choice could destroy them both.

Read an excerpt

What Providence. That this man—one who, other than the beard, was perfectly acceptable for her purposes, and damn handsome to boot—should stop and pick her up?

Clearly God in heaven above was on her side.

“You do realize this is something that cannot be undone?”

She had the sense he was asking the question purely because his moral code required it. “I do.”

“You are quite young…to be making a decision that will change everything.”

“Everything?” she asked. “Do you really believe that one act changes who a person is? At their core?”

He stared at her as though stunned to hear such words from a lady’s lips. But then he said, “I certainly hope not.”

His tone was so dark, so tormented, she had to ask, “Have you done things?” Things that changed him irrevocably?

“Madam, I have just returned from France.”

“Ooh.” How fascinating. “Are you a soldier?”

“I was. An officer in the King’s Dragoons.”

Oh. A cavalry man. She loved horses. “Did you see much action?”

“Far too much.”

“I am sorry.”

He blinked and she realized how lovely his eyes were. A light blue, almost crystalline, with large pupils and a dark ring around the irises, making it hard to look away. “Why are you sorry?” he said, his voice dropping low.

“You must have suffered.”

“I was injured.”

“Yes, but I meant spiritually.”

“Spiritually?” His tone indicated he’d never even considered those wounds.

“War is hell,” she said. She knew of such things. She’d read several books on the topic.

“Yes. It is.”

“But you are home now. And safe.”

“Yes.” He looked out the window and stroked his beard as though he were remembering some of his losses.

She wished one of them had been the beard.

She really disliked beards on men.

“So do you?”

His attention jerked back to her. “What?”

“Do you really believe one act can change a person?”

“I think everything we do, everything we say, every breath we take changes us.”

She blew out an impatient breath. “That is far too deep a rumination for this conversation.”

“Is it?” Why he seemed amused was a mystery.

“Most certainly. We are talking about my giving myself to a man who is not and never shall be my husband.”

“We are talking about you giving your innocence to a man you do not know. Do you have any idea how dangerous that can be?”

“I suppose it would be dangerous.” She had to admit this. “But it is not dangerous with you.”

He reared back. An odd mixture of shock and anger and confusion crossed his face. “How can you possibly know what kind of man I am? What I could do to you when I got you alone? Damn it, Tildy, I could be a monster for all you know.”

“But you’re not.” She knew. She could see it in his eyes.

As her words soaked in, she saw it blossom there, his deep gratification for her trust. But he sighed and scrubbed his face and said “Tildy,” in a tone that made clear he was about to turn her down.

So she went on the offensive. “However, if you do not want to be the one to deflower me, I totally understand. I imagine it can be rather unsettling to be approached by a woman with such a request.”

He murmured, “You have no idea,” beneath his breath, but she heard.

She patted his knee. “And you were injured in the war.”

His features scrunched up. He stared at her hand. “Just what is that supposed to mean?”

She batted her lashes in an attempt to portray her innocence. “I know what happens when men are injured in war.” She leaned closer. “They become incapable. I totally understand.”

“I am not incapable!” Surely there was no need for him to bellow.

“Unwilling then?”

“Bloody hell, no.”

“It is perfectly acceptable if you do not find me attractive. I do look rather like a drowned rat. I am sure I can find someone on the streets of London who is willing to do the deed.” She sighed heavily, just for effect, and then added, “I do hope I don’t get the pox.”

Silence sizzled between them. She determinedly held his gaze, despite the fact that his stare was fierce. His lips worked, as though he was attempting to form a response, several responses, as the moment stretched, and then he reached across the carriage, took hold of her arms and whipped her onto his lap as though she weighed no more than a thistledown.

“Not interested?” he growled. “How is this for not interested?”

And then, he kissed her.

And heaven.

As enchanting as those lips had felt dancing over her hand, it was nothing to this. This was as wild as the storm raging outside, but still unbearably gentle and sweet. His scent suffused her, filled her lungs and stirred some latent hunger deep within. She wanted more. More. More.

And this desire had little to do with her goal of wriggling free of an unwanted betrothal. It had only to do with him. This man. This hunger. This passion.

She’d never felt it before. Not like this.

She’d only felt a passion for passion, which was very different indeed.

His body was warm, heating her. His hands roved, scudding over her shoulders and down to her waist to hold her in place. His lips were hard on her, demanding, yet sensitive to her needs. They engulfed her senses in a velvet trap, one she did not want to escape.

He pulled her closer, settled her more firmly on his lap and leaned her against the wall of the carriage and deepened the kiss, easing in his tongue and tasting her. She had to respond, but she had no idea how her untried exploration would affect him.

Something hard grew against her hip. The knowledge of what it was lit a fire in her belly. Need blossomed and raged. She thrust her fingers in his hair, twining in the strands and tugging. He did the same until they were holding each other still, each consuming the other.

Her mind spun, her body awoke. That long dreamed of desire arose.

She had no idea why, with one harsh movement, he pushed her back into her seat.

They stared at each other across the width of the carriage, the only sounds, their panted breath.

Heat walked between them. Ribbons of carnal lust bound them close, though they no longer touched. Intensity roared.

“Why did you stop?” She didn’t intend for her voice to crack, to be filled with anguish, but it happened.

His lungs worked like a bellows. His stare burned through her. His brow was prickled with sweat, despite the chill of the evening. “Not here.” A whisper, rough and low.

“Not here?”

“I won’t take you in a carriage. You deserve better.”

Oh, she liked that he thought so. She thought so too. “Where then?”

“I am staying the night at a friend’s house in London. Large, comfortable bed. A crackling fire. Excellent wine. All the comforts a proper seduction requires.”

She could not hold back a grin. “Oh. Is this a proper seduction?”

“It will be.” He settled back in his seat and studied her. There was something in his expression that made it clear to her what he was thinking. He was plotting her seduction. She shuddered.

“You really don’t need to seduce me, you know.”

His lips quirked. “Seduction is half the fun. Besides, you deserve to know all the pleasure there is to be had between a man and a woman.”

Her brow furrowed. “I thought there was just the tupping.” She knew all about it. She raised horses, after all. The male simply mounted the female and they danced around for a bit and then a foal came in the spring. It all seemed pretty simple.

“Oh, there’s more than that.”

“Is there? Do tell.”

“I will not. I’d rather show you. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

Read more about Luscious and a chance to win one of Sabrina’s tiaras here:

http://sabrinayork.com/seven-nights-of-sin-scorching-historical-romance/

About Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & snarky to scorching romance.  Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bj8tKb.

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Michele Mills: Love, in a Hopeless Place — Post-Apocalyptic Romance

The Last Two People on Earth…

That phrase—“I wouldn’t (insert verb here) with you if you were the last (insert gender/sexual orientation here) on Earth!”—we’ve all shouted or thought that in frustration to someone at some point in our lives, haven’t we?

But…what if it were true?

What if that wasn’t just a line? What if you and another person actually were isolated, alone, the only two people left on the planet after a cataclysmic event? And what if you were standing there, on a lonely freeway with (randomly choosing here…) a battle-hardened Marine Sniper, and this man thinks you and he might possibly be the last two people alive on earth?

What then?

I read Stephen King’s book, The Stand, ages ago and I loved that story. I mean I loved it. I took it out and petted it. I read the book twice and watched the miniseries a few times too. What really got to me about that post apoc plague story was my fear over the scope of the disaster, the trauma over the death of most of humanity—and the echoing, hollow emptiness surrounding the meeting of two people trying to start the world over again. This somehow made their joining, their romance, more poignant and more intense. That idea has stuck in my mind ever since.

Stephen King, not being a romance writer, had very little romance in The Stand. *sniff* It was small and yes, unsatisfying in its tininess. To me, this was the book’s only flaw. The romance lover in me yearned for more. MORE ROMANCE, PLEASE! Then I thought, wait, why can’t I have more? And hence the Catastrophe series was born…

Die For You is a post-apocalyptic romance where two people have survived a world-wide viral outbreak with a 99% mortality rate. This is the story of two people who are very different, yet fall in love due to forced proximity and shared goals.

That’s the key here, two people meeting who would normally have never met.

I love these types of stories. Add road romance to the forced proximity, and I’m in romance heaven.

 What about you? Which type of forced proximity is your favorite?

Kindle | Google | BN | Kobo | ARe

Love, in a hopeless place.

Catastrophe Series, Book 1

Two months after a virus took out civilization, Rachel Donnelly is the last living soul in California, as far as she can tell. Until she runs into a Marine sniper, battle-hardened but alive and healthy.

Adam Sanchez would love nothing more than a slamming session of I-can’t-believe-we’re-alive post-apocalyptic sex in the back of his Hummer. But Rachel’s fragility, inexperience—and much younger age—hold him back from exposing her to his raw, aggressive sexuality. If anything, Rachel needs protection. Especially from himself.

As they band together with other survivors to battle feral animals, violent ex-cons, and motorcycle clubs jockeying for power, Rachel grows stronger in mind, body, and spirit—strong enough to give the dangerously sexy Marine what they both crave.

The power of their passion rocks Adam’s world, bringing him to his knees—which, he discovers too late, is the worst possible place to be when danger springs from the shadows.

Warning: Contains a sexy Marine, a tattooed ex-con, a girl who blossoms into a sexually assured young woman, laughter despite the pain, m/f/m ménage, hope, love, and more bad language and violence than are strictly necessary.

Excerpt

Rachel had a clear view of the Hummer from her driver’s side window. She watched with eyes wide as the door swung open. First one buff-colored boot hit the pavement, then a second, and a dark head rose above. The door shut and her jaw dropped.

“Shit, he’s huge,” she said.

A soldier. He wore army camouflage pants. A black T-shirt crossed his wide shoulders and covered the tops of his massive arms. He looked Hispanic with dark tanned skin and buzzed brown hair. She couldn’t see his eyes through black sunglasses. But one thing she could clearly see–he had enough firepower strapped to him and in his hands to take out a small army.

Rachel had been raised to trust and respect soldiers. Instinct told her to fling her door open and run into this man’s arms. She watched him plug a clip of ammo into his handgun and hold it up with both hands, finger on the trigger. She bit her lip, shook her head and clicked the automatic lock for all four doors. Nope. Safer to hide in the car.

He looked right at her. Uh, oh. She slumped in her seat.

A moment later, he tapped his knuckles on her window. “Ma’am? Can you hear me? Come out, it’s safe.”

Terror kept her glued to her seat. “Safe. Yeah, right,” she snorted, gripping her gun.

He brought his face level with hers and yanked off his glasses. She blinked. Her breath caught in her throat. Wow, he was handsome. No, gorgeous–gorgeous like Benjamin Bratt. And he had a wicked scar that carved down the right side of his face, which in reality, only made him more handsome, an edgy I’m-about-to-ravage-you kind of way. Coffee-brown eyes and full lips curved into a tight smile. “Ma’am? Are you okay? Are you sick? Roll down your window, please. We need to talk.”

Polite too.

“I’m not talking to you,” she muttered. “I don’t care how cute you are.”

“What?” he said. “I can’t hear you.”

His deep voice sounded soothing and trustworthy. A siren song.

She examined his face again, searching for the answer to her most burning question. Was this man a gentle giant, or trouble on two legs? Either way, ignoring him wouldn’t prevent him from shooting her in the head through the car window. Rachel decided to negotiate.

She lowered the glass an inch. “I’m not sick.”

“Good,” he sighed.

“I have a gun.”

“So do I.” He smiled. “Several.”

Her nostrils flared. She straightened her shoulders. “I’m not getting out. I’m leaving. Okay, pretty boy? You go on back to your car, and I’ll stay in mine and I’ll drive out and we’ll go our separate ways. No harm done.”

The big, scary guy frowned. “That’s not a good idea. You could get hurt on your own.”

“And I could get hurt with you. Thanks, but no thanks.”

Author Bio:

Michele Mills teaches High School English to unruly teenagers and enjoys cooking for her husband and two sons. Die For You, her new post-apocalyptic romance with Samhain releases May 2016. You can find her pretending to be professional on Twitter and Facebook.

Taige Crenshaw: Building Memories

There are so many ways to build moments that become memories. It can be something fleeting like just a brief interaction or something that occurs over time. Those moments become memories that I built. Those fond or maybe not so fond things I remember.  This is what happened the end of last year. I had great moments that became memories I will think of often.

I went on vacation. The longest one I’ve taken in years. The vacation was also different because it included two trips during the time frame. I had an enjoyable time on both.

The first part of my vacation, I traveled with my family. Over the years, I’ve become very close to a friend, who along with her siblings, have become family to me. We took a seven-day cruise to Hawaii. It was wonderful. The sights of Hawaii are something I will never forget. The food was great, especially the fruit. But it’s the camaraderie and fun I had with my family-by-choice that made this trip what it was. It wouldn’t have been as wonderful without them there with me. So I added more memories I will cherish for the rest of my life.

The second part of my trip I went home. No matter where I live now I will always call where I was originally born—home. I went to spend the holidays with my family by blood. Whenever I fly into St. Thomas (where I was born and raised), I get a little teary-eyed. As I mentioned, it was coming home. As I landed, I was irritated from the bad plane ride, but still eager and excited to see my family. This trip was special because it was the first time in a long time I was home for Christmas.  I yelled that, too. I love being home for the holidays. There’s nothing like Christmas at home. I had such an awesome time, and again made some memories that will last me the rest of my life.

I’ve talked many times about moments and memories and appreciating them. That trip was chock full of moments, which are now memories, that I took time to enjoy. There are many moments you have in life that will add to your memories.  Live and enjoy each and everyone.

* * * * *

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 heroine’s, and sexy hero’s. 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/pages/Taige-... and facebook group https://www.facebook.com/groups/Crens.... Or twitter: @ https://twitter.com/TaigeCrenshaw.

 

Taken By You – When friends learn that sometimes desire doesn’t care about friendships or partnerships and passion can’t be controlled, who will be the first to succumb to being taken?

All Romance Ebook: Buy Taken by You https://www.allromanceebooks.com/prod...

Amazon: Buy Taken by You – http://amzn.to/1Q1qzeN

Cyborg Love…and a Question…

I got you all excited with that title, didn’t I? No, I haven’t written a new cyborg book, although I’ve always wanted to! No, it’s my turn to blog today, and the only thing I can think to talk about is the cute things kids do.

Yesterday, my daughter was in a rush. So she stopped at Burger King to get kids meals for the kids. When I came over for dinner last night, the wee ones presented me with this collectible figurine of Cyborg from the cartoon Team Titans Go! Seeing how appreciative I was of the gift, they are now on a quest to get me ALL of the Team Titans figurines!

This isn’t a new thing for them. They’ve collected Hotel Transylvania monsters and How to Train Your Dragon dragons for me, too. They know I’m special—and that they can come to my office anytime and play with my toys.

Then last night, we were sitting on the porch after dinner, waiting for the storm to come (sounds like such a country thing to do, doesn’t it?). The 2-year-old was drawing on the porch with her colored chalk when one piece rolled off the edge of the porch, and she bent way over to look for it.

Her dad warned her, “The witch under the porch is gonna get you.” (I know, what a thing to say to a kid, right?) Her eyes got real wide, and she bent over again. When she straightened, she whispered and pointed below, “Daddy, go get the witch!” After we’d laughed ourselves silly, he picked her up and put her on his lap for them to play. She gripped his cheeks to hold his head still. Still whispering, she said, “Nina’s a witch! (I’m Nina.) I a bee-bee witch.” Her mom and I just shared a look. Sometimes, it’s just born in you.

So, my question today is: What’s your cute kid story?