Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 381

Donna Michaels: Paying it forward by giving away RT author swag! (Contest)

I had a blast at RT last week and wanted to share some of the goodies from a ton of wonderful authors I had the pleasure of meeting, because, heck, I may be an author, but I am a reader, too!

This year has rocked. I can cross three things off my bucket list: Hitting the NY Times and USA Today Bestsellers lists, and meeting my idol, Jill Shalvis!!

She had several panels and events at RT, but I was up in my room working on edits, so I didn’t get to meet her until the Hot Guy Bingo event she did with the wonderful Jaci Burton! They were a riot! And I am happy to say I wasn’t tongue-tied when I approached Jill, but I was tongue ‘stupid’. Yep, instead of telling her I wanted to be like her when I grow up, I said I am going to be her when I grow up. What an idjit I am. lol Thankfully, she took it in her stride (I think). She laughed, but come to think of it, it was a little on the nervous side…

But, she didn’t call security when I approached her table at the big signing, and she even invited me to show up at her next event so she could sign the book of hers I left in my room. And, when I told her I was collecting swag from authors to give away to my newsletter subscribers next month, she shoved a ton of stuff in my hands!! *Holds hand over heart* I promise I will part with every bit of it…because I already have my own stash of Jill stuff. J I even have Jill & Eloise tote bags to give away!

So, if you’d like a chance to win some of these goodies, books, totes, and more I couldn’t fit in the frame, then be sure to subscribe to my newsletter at www.donnamichaelsauthor.com for your chance to win! Most of the loot is signed, too, by Cat Johnson, Becky McGraw, Don Allen, Sylvia McDaniels, Elle James, Paige Tyler, and Geri Foster, just to name a few!

I had a blast at all the events, especially the cowboy and military ones. Creating a hero that is both is one of my favorite things to do, and I’m excited to announce my new Harland County release that just came out May 21st!

HER HEALING COWBOY/Book 5: Jace

Available now at Amazon

The doctor/captain/cowboy is on a mission to convince the visiting beauty that some doctors are worth trusting…

Holly’s stay in Harland County Texas is limited. She’s only there to help run her uncle’s ice cream business while he recuperates from an operation. Her home is in Colorado. Her life is in Denver. Her dream job is in Denver but won’t be if she doesn’t get back before her leave of absence runs out. Everybody knows this, but apparently her heart and body didn’t get the memo because they spark to life whenever her uncle’s smoking, hot doctor is around. But she’s been burned by one before and is definitely not interested. Much.

Doctor Jace Turner has one goal: Join Doctors Without Borders. Ever since his father was in a car accident and became HIV Positive from a blood transfusion, Jace set his sights on the organization and plans to join, once his contract is up with the Texas National Guard. The last thing he needs is the crazy attraction he feels toward the beauty from Colorado.

The cowboy isn’t looking for a relationship. She isn’t staying. Perfect set up for a fling. What harm could there be?

Excerpt:

As he walked toward the window, he noted several customers and decided to go inside instead of waiting in line. Besides, he needed a little relief from the heat.

As he stepped inside the vacant shop, he was hit by the blessed cold of the air conditioner…and globs of flying ice cream, followed by Holly’s panicked voice.

“Donny!”

Unable to avoid a second hit, Jace took a smattering to the face and ear. The sticky, cold substance slid down his neck while he ducked to evade a third, taking cover behind a display case.

“It won’t shut off,” the young college student yelled, jamming button after button.

Ice cream covered the ceiling, walls, and floors in a pink, organic hue, dripping off The Creamery’s three unlucky occupants.

Holly lunged for the outlet, managing to yank the cord from the wall while she slipped on a milkshake puddle by her feet. The whirl of a blender dissipated, along with the flying dessert, both giving way to a muttered oath as the valiant woman smashed into a work table on her way to the floor; the clang of bowls and spoons echoed in the suddenly quiet shop.

Jace sprang into action, locking the door to prevent customers from coming into the war zone, then slip-slided his way behind the counter to the grumbling proprietor and her clueless employee.

“Donny, go finish your order at the window,” he directed. “And be careful where you walk.”

“But…” The young man blinked down at his boss who sat on the floor cradling her left elbow.

“I’ll take care of her. Now, go.”

“Yes, sir.” The young man poured what was left of the milkshake into a cup and tip-toed back to the grinning customer at the window.

“That was awesome, man.”

Jace’s mind registered the teenage customer’s proclamation as he made his way to the injured woman. She blinked up at him, those gorgeous green eyes switching from dazed to amused before she burst out laughing. Deciding it was better than her bursting into tears, he smiled and knelt down in front of her.

“Do I look as bad as you?” she asked between laughs.

Ice cream plastered dark bangs to her forehead, dripping onto the beauty’s face and off her chin to slide down a delectable chest and disappear between mouthwatering cleavage. She looked positively delicious, and he had to fight the urge to lean forward and lick her clean.

“Worse,” he replied with a grin.

“Gee, thanks.” She snickered and made to get up.

He cupped her shoulder and gently pushed her back down. “Easy, there, chuckles. That was some fall. Let me check you out.”

“I’m fine.” She swatted his hands away, tried to push off the floor, then winced.

He blew out a breath. Damn, stubborn woman. “Sure you are.” Ignoring her grumble, he gently, but thoroughly, examined her arm.

“Ouch.” She jerked back when he reached her elbow.

He knew from months of watching her with her uncle, and here at work, that she could handle tough situations without a crease in her brow or complaint on her tempting lips. So, for the competent woman to cry out from his light touch, she was in a lot of pain.

“You hit the table pretty hard. You should have it x-rayed.”

She cocked her head and smiled tight. “The table’s fine.”

He leveled the exasperating woman with one of his stern looks. The kind he gave to the soldiers in his platoon. At least they had the good sense to look contrite. Not Holly. Hell no. She just continued to stare unblinkingly through those damn, gorgeous eyes of hers.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said, a little more than tired of her mistrust. A mistrust she only appeared to reserve just for him. She was outright friendly and even smiled with her eyes to his friends.

Her chin rose, her gaze less than tolerant. “I can’t leave the shop.”

“Then let me finish my exam.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, she held out her arm, and he quickly got back to evaluating before she changed her mind. After finding no disconnect, or evidence of a fracture, he grabbed a nearby dish towel and fashioned a sling. “It doesn’t appear to be broken, and since you won’t get it x-rayed, try to keep your arm immobile for a few days.”

She snorted. “Not gonna happen, Doc. I need to drive.”

“Not if it hurts,” he replied, leaning closer. “I’m serious.” The last thing he needed was to worry about the headstrong woman behind the wheel of a car with an injured arm.

“I know, but so am I,” she insisted. “My uncle has an appointment with the orthopedic specialist this Wednesday and my mother doesn’t drive. No way are we missing that.” She glanced down at her arm. “I’m sure it’ll be fine in a day or two. I just whacked my funny bone, that’s all.”

He wasn’t so sure. And there was nothing funny about her getting hurt.

She tried to get up again, so he hooked a hand under her other arm and brought them both to their feet, careful of the slop on the floor.

“Come by my office on Tuesday, and I’ll reexamine you.”

She pulled free and grumbled. “Thanks…and no thanks. I’ll be fine.”

Donny chose that moment to tip-toe back over. “I’m so sorry, boss. I have no idea what happened. The darn lid wouldn’t stay on, and next I knew, Raspberry Supreme was flying all over the place. Then I tried, but I couldn’t get any of the buttons to work—”

“It’s okay,” she reassured, expression softening as she addressed the contrite kid. “I should’ve warned you about it. You just take care of the customers at the window while I clean up.”

“Will do, boss.” Donny smiled and headed back to his station, relief sagging his slight shoulders.

It was at that moment, Jace realized the woman sometimes looked at him with heat in her gaze, but never warmth. And, son-of-a-bitch, he wondered just what he had to do to change that outcome.

Less than amused with her less than friendly attitude, he stepped closer, and when she backed up, he followed, until a counter blocked her escape. “Tell me…Holly.” He deliberately used her first name, and heaven help him, he liked how it rolled off his tongue, and the way desire darkened her gaze in response. “Do you dislike all doctors, or is it just me?”

Her lips parted and chest rose in an enticement almost too much to bear. Then her throaty, sexy voice met his ear.

“All doctors.”

Heat skittered down his spine, and he had to fight the urge to lean in and kiss her trembling mouth. Instead, he ran a finger through the ice cream on her cheek, then licked it off, wishing he could put his mouth on her. “As long as it’s not me.”

She shrugged, her gaze full of mistrust. And heat.

He chuckled. She was a tough nut to crack, one he should avoid, but knew he wouldn’t. After fishing the wallet out of the back pocket of his shorts, he set money on the counter behind the suddenly still woman, then held her gaze, eager to see what she did next.

“This is for the smoothies. Thanks for the delicious…desserts.”

Need flared in her green gaze and dilated the pupils in her fathomless eyes. A powerful jolt of arousal shot down his spine and zinged his favorite body parts to life. Parts he ignored, except in the shower after waking up hard from a dream she’d haunted.

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a hint of reproach in her tone that signified he wasn’t about to get any other type of dessert from her. “And thanks for tending to my arm, Doc.”

He nodded and stepped back, wiping his face on a towel she handed him. If she didn’t want to act on whatever was zipping between them, then so be it. He never forced himself on a woman in his life. They tended to seek him out.

“Just make sure you stop by in a few days so I can take another look,” he said, dropping the towel on the counter while he held her gaze. “But if it starts to swell, or the pain increases, you get your stubborn…elbow to the emergency room.” He caught himself just in time, and kept his orders impersonal. Despite the little bit of teasing, he wanted her to take the situation serious and not ignore his advice.

She nodded as she carefully made her way to the register in a blatant attempt to get rid of him. “Will do, Doc.”

If he hadn’t been watching her, he would’ve sworn she’d saluted him.

“How about I help you clean up. Gonna be kind of hard with one hand.”

“Naw. I can manage.” She shrugged and cracked a smile that almost reached her eyes. “Here’s your change. Sorry about the extra milkshake.”

One of the most effective doctoring skills in his arsenal was his ability to read people, and Holly was coming across loud and clear. She was tired, in pain, and on edge, that last part because of him. He seemed to push her to that boundary just as she pushed him. He didn’t know what the hell to do about that, or even if he should.

“No problem.” He held his hand out for his money and watched the woman pull her bottom lip between her teeth the moment her finger brushed his palm. Another damn zing traveled straight to his groin.

A tight jaw contradicted the heat in her gaze, and stirred more than his curiosity. Just what had happened to her to forge a dislike of doctors? And did she taste as exquisite as she looked?

Then, not for the first time, he wondered why the hell it mattered since he was not looking for a romantic relationship.

Just as he was about to turn and leave, a glob of ice cream dropped from the ceiling and splattered onto her head. She jumped back and shrieked, and the movement caused the mixture to slide down her face and drip onto her already deliciously coated chest.

He knew better than to laugh, no matter how adorable she appeared, pink goop dripping off her exasperated face. Muttering under her breath, she reached below the counter, pulled out another dish towel and wiped her face.

Her choppy ministrations managed to smear more than eradicate.

He stepped closer, and using the corner of the towel still in her hand, he gently dabbed at her lower lip. She stilled, and appeared to stop breathing.

Oxygen seemed to have a hard time making it into his lungs, too. “You missed a spot.” He wiped her chin, and another speck by her ear.

“Thanks,” she whispered, then swallowed, her gaze dropping to his mouth.

This time, he stilled.

All the cold air from the air conditioner seemed to disappear, leaving heat. Lots of heat. Jace was torn about what to do. It was the middle of the day, in the middle of her shop. Definitely not appropriate for crushing her close and tasting that trembling lower lip of hers for himself. But he couldn’t get his body to move away. In fact, they seemed to be closer, which had to come from her, because he’d remained still, not wanting to jeopardize what little progress he’d made with his attempt to prove some doctors could be trusted.

Her gaze traveled up to meet his, and she blinked, staring at him like she’d only really just seen him. Then suddenly, their breath mingled, and he had no idea how they’d gotten so close he could count the green hues in her eyes. Three. There were three shades, each melting into the other, and he empathized, ready to chuck common sense and take what the beautiful woman was offering.

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Donna Michaels is an author of Romaginative Fiction who writes Romance through the H’s—Hot, Humorous & Heartwarming. Her books span several genres, including contemporary, suspense, paranormal, and time travel that keeps her readers asking for more. When she’s not wearing out the keys on her laptop, she’s spending time with her fulltime military husband and their four children, catching all the movies her deadlines will allow, watching Doctor Who, Sherlock, NCIS, Supernatural, or plotting her next book. And, of course, watching Hawaii Five-0, because Alex’s version of McGarrett inspires many of her heroes.

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest | Amazon Author Page

Flashback: Mutiny’s Bounty (Contest)

If you’re from the U.S. this weekend is special—Memorial Day Weekend. It’s part somber—remembering those who gave their lives for our country; but also, because of where it sits on the calendar, it’s our beginning of the summer celebration!

So while some of you are traveling this weekend, and others are gearing up to head to the lake, expecting company, etc., I’ll be here writing. It won’t be easy. Our pool is repaired (new liner). Sure, the water’s likely too cold for me to stay in long, but the thought of all that sunshine and sparkling water will be pulling at me. What are your plans for the weekend? Want to share?

Be safe! I’ve heard there will be more folks on the road this weekend than have been for a decade. For the rest of us who are staying close to home, enjoy a sexy excerpt, then…

Comment for a chance to win Mutiny’s Bounty or a short story on this carousel!

// ]]><A HREF=”http://ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widg... Widgets</A>

* * * * *

 

Interested only in experiencing an adrenaline-packed adventure first-hand to give her credo when she books her clients’ adventure vacations, Lace McElhannon finds more excitement than she can handle when she meets and falls into bed with ex-SEAL Dex Haygood.

Fresh from protecting transport ships from Somali pirates, Dex figures his latest job will be a cakewalk, until he finds himself in deep water, swimming with sharks and trying to protect Lace when the yacht they’re sailing on is taken.

Excerpt:

His expression didn’t change. If anything, his eyes grew colder, narrowing.

Was he counting in his head? Seeing how long she took to scurry up on the mattress? She moved deliberately slowly, rising fluidly and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Besides, anticipation kept her revved. Then she sat at the edge of the high mattress and scooted backward, trying not to rush even though she couldn’t wait for what came next.

Dex was faster. He crawled quickly onto the mattress, pushed her to her back, and came down atop her, covering her from her shoulders to her feet, his strong legs pinning her as neatly as the weight of his torso.

She couldn’t move, could hardly breathe. His cock pulsed between them. Still, she kept her breaths even, her chin tilted in defiance.

“What am I going to do with you?” he murmured, his mouth hovering just above hers.

“Anything you want, I’m guessing. It’s not like I can fight you,” she said it innocently,  eyes wide, but then the corners of her mouth curved. “Anything, so long as you slide this up inside me.” She rolled her hips to rub his cock.

He grunted. “I’d like nothing better, but then, you’d win. And I can’t let that happen.”

She arched a brow. “You do know sex doesn’t have to be a game, right? That we can both be winners.”

He shook his head. “I don’t see sex as a game, but you’ve been bucking me since we met. You consider it a challenge, getting a guy exactly where you want, to do exactly what you want.”

“Not true,” she whispered. “Not what I’m after, at all.”

“Then tell me.” His voice softened. “Remember, no pride. No modesty. It’s just you and me.”

She licked her lips, then drew a short breath, turning her head so he couldn’t see her eyes. Because hadn’t he already seen too much? “I want you to make me.”

“Make you what?”

“Make me obey. Let me fight, but never let me win.”

After a long pause, he asked, “Forcibly?”

The heated air from his single word brushed her cheek, and she nodded, holding her breath. His neutral tone hadn’t given her a clue what he was thinking. Her request wasn’t something she’d ever revealed to another man: her need to be taken. Because then, wouldn’t the guy think she wanted to be dominated in every other part of her life and their relationship? With Dex, she knew he was physically strong enough to give her what she needed, but they only had three days, and then they’d never see each other again. Her wish was a safe one. She could ask this and not fear him taking her over her life. Something she’d experienced with a boyfriend in college and would never risk again, thank you very much.

A finger traced a line across her cheek then rubbed her bottom lip. “Look at me.”

Stealing herself, she turned and met his gaze, surprised at the smoky heat she met.

“If you give this…power…to me, I won’t let you change your mind. If you get scared, you’ll have to work through it.”

She nodded, excitement causing her heart to thud inside her chest. “You don’t mind? Don’t think I’m crazy?”

“We all have our fantasies, Lace. I have a few of my own.” And then he kissed her.

A soft, hot brand on her mouth. Over too soon because he was moving away, kneeling beside her as he raked her body with a hot glance.

His hard gaze swung back to her eyes. “Open your legs.”

Sensing he’d already started the game, she shook her head and clenched her legs together, getting her elbows under her body and scooting toward the headboard.

She didn’t even have time to gasp before he was on her, his hands gripping her ankles and spreading them.

He quickly inserted his knees between hers to hold her open.

A gasp escaped. She jackknifed up and shoved both hands at his chest.

But he manacled her wrists and pushed them behind her back, holding them there with one hand, keeping her still while he put his free hand between her legs and cupped her mound. “This is mine, Lace. However I want.”

She panted, shaking her torso, trying to free her hands, panic mixed with arousal—so heady a mix she felt as though her heart might explode. “Let me go.”

He shook his head, one corner of his mouth curling upward, lending him a menacing look.

Fuck, she loved that look. Knew it meant he was into this game.

Marianne Knightly: Why Do I Love Royals? Let Me Count the Ways

I admit it. My name is Marianne and I am a royalophile.

I love reading about the royal families still out there today (particularly British royalty), and hearing what’s going on in their lives. I may or may not have (ahem – did – ahem) surreptitiously watched Prince George’s debut live at my day job while I should have been doing something else. I’m very lucky Princess Charlotte was born on a weekend (though I was very distracted on the Monday after waiting for news of her official name).

My love of royals has now extended into my writing life, as my newest series, the Royals of Valleria, is about a fictional European monarchy.

Just what is it about these royal families that we love? I present five reasons below.

We’ve grown up with them.

As children, we’re told stories of princesses and princes, kings and queens in faraway or made-up lands. Our innocent imaginations carry us away as children and we imagine ourselves being swept away by the prince to live a magical castle. I’m a romantic at heart so, while I may have more realistic expectations now, I do hope to find a man with prince-ly qualities: brave, kind, a leader, and handsome wouldn’t hurt, either (*wink, wink*).

Is it any wonder I became a romance author?

It’s exclusive.

Not everyone is born into direct royalty, but many can trace their roots back to some royal family member. Despite ourselves, we can’t help but be fascinated by something we can’t officially be a part of. It’s why we buy silly commemorative items, try some crazy beauty tips, and watch royal weddings and ceremonies on television. It’s also why I use a cup commemorating Will and Kate’s wedding at my day job (which I received as a gift, though I would have been tempted to buy it).

Caption: Yes, I am admitting that I proudly use this cup.

Even after the innocent days of youth we are bombarded with more stories that feature troubled royal families in the forms of movies, books, plays, and television. More recently, on the television scene, there’s Game of Thrones, Reign, The Tudors, and The Royals. One of my all-time favorite past shows was Kings that sadly only lasted one season.

Their lives seem much more exciting than ours.

Who wouldn’t like to list their occupation as Prince and Princess? While the real life of a royal is likely a balance between royal duties and personal ones, we are still fascinated by them. When we’re going around our mundane lives of laundry and cleaning, who can’t help but imagine a life traveling and helping others?

There are still plenty of monarchies out there to entertain us.

Though true traditional monarchies are rare these days, constitutional and other monarchies are still around and making headlines. Think Monaco, Norway, Sweden, Belgium, Denmark, Luxembourg, Spain, the Netherlands, and Japan.

These are just five reasons why I love royals. If you like stories about royals, then please check out my newest series, the Royals of Valleria! My latest release, Marcello & Grace (Royals of Valleria #2) is available today on Amazon. You can read a synopsis below.

What do you love about royal families? Contact me via my website and let me know. For more information about me and my books, sign-up for my monthly e-newsletter and follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.

Marcello & Grace (Royals of Valleria #2)

Meet the Royals of Valleria, a country as old as the fall of the Roman Empire. The reigning king and patriarch rules with his beloved queen. Nine children, ranging from the eldest twins to the youngest son, watch over the country they love and care for. Bound by honor, duty, and each other, follow their lives as they fall in love, face tragedies, and triumph against the evils facing them.

***

When fate made Lady Grace a widow, after years of a disastrous, abusive marriage, she felt a sense of relief and escape. Now, a year after her husband’s death, she’s just beginning to feel like her old self again, though she still carries the scars, both visible and hidden, of her past. Having been separated from friends and family for too long, she’s only too happy to see her old friend, Princess Catharine, on a visit to England. What she didn’t expect was a visit from her brother, Prince Marcello. When she begins to feel the first stirrings of love within her, can she overcome the horrors of her past to make a future with him?

Prince Marcello, head of Valleria’s national security and defense, is still dealing with the fallout from security breaches under his watch. After long days and nights of political maneuvering in London to reclaim Valleria’s and his reputation, he takes a needed break by joining his sister on a visit to her friend, Lady Grace. What he thought would be a relaxing week becomes anything but when he begins to fall in love with her.

In the midst of blooming love, Marcello is asked to lead a secret, dangerous mission to thwart an international threat. Marcello knows he must go, both for his country’s honor and for his own. Will he survive? And, if he does, will Grace be waiting for him upon his return?

C. K. Crouch: Romantic Times Convention 2015

Unlike Romance Writers of America’s National Conference, the Romantic Times Convention’s focus leans more towards readers, where RWA’s focus is on writers. At RT, you saw librarians, readers, agents, editors, writers all blended together.

During the workshops, the authors on the panels gave away copies of their books to members of audience that asked questions. A great chance for readers to get free books and chat with their favorite author.

A big common factor struck me as I waited thirty minutes or more to get into the hotel restaurant. None of the hotels are prepared for a convention or conference the magnitude of RWA or RT. Not the rooms, mind you, but the little shops, where you wait in mile long lines to purchase a cup of coffee or a bottle of water, or even a sandwich where one cashier is overwhelmed trying to wait on customers. Then waiting for half an hour to sit at the restaurant, there were only two, and even ordering food to go took at least an hour. It wasn’t their fault. They had no idea where all these people came from. Too bad, there isn’t a way to forewarn the poor hotels to beware of a writers’ conference because you will be swamped with people.

The convention was fun and exhausting. It’s go, go, go every day and party at night. I was too tired to hit the parties. With a bad knee and using a cane by 5:00 in the evening, I found the only place I wanted to be was in the room resting.

I missed the awards because I was waiting for my food in the restaurant and didn’t have time to change. I didn’t feel jeans and a shirt were appropriate attire for it.

Both conferences are fun. RWA is for writers and RT is geared towards the readers. However, you can benefit from attending both. You can connect with industry professionals as a writer at both; at RT you can connect with your readers. Craft workshops, marketing workshops, connections, book fairs. At RT, you can take books from your personal collection to have your favorite author sign for you. They limit you to ten, but you can come out to trade them out for more.

If you have the opportunity, attend both and boost your writing career a few notches. Or if your published you can network with other authors and readers. Just know you will find it busy and nonstop.

Oh and at Romantic Times there were, whew-fanning my face, gorgeous cover models.

SOS Aloha hosted a military tribute. Over two hundred people attended as veterans stood and sang the song for their service and learned about the things our veterans are going through.

My recommendation is gather your money and pick a conference.

What do you want from it?

A chance as an aspiring unpublished author to meet with that dream editor or agent? Both offer that chance.

Want to connect with other authors? Both offer that opportunity.

Want craft workshops? Both have that.

Are you published looking to connect with more readers and other industry professionals? Then Romantic Times is your best bet there.

Sometimes it’s about location. I chose RT this year because RWA is in NYC this year, and I can’t swing it. RT was in my hometown of Dallas, TX so I chose it.

What would you choose?

C. K. Crouch

http://ckcrouch.com

Terri Meeker: Khaki Fever and Sex Filled Taxi Rides

Female Sexual Liberation Owes a Debt to the Great War

Prior to WWI, women’s sexuality was locked down pretty tightly. No sex until marriage, full stop.  When the war broke out in 1914, however, young men and women started pushing pretty hard against that wall. With men marching off to the slaughter of the Western Front, they wanted to live life while they still had one to live. As women watched their entire generation of men leave, they began to feel pretty desperate as well.

And so they pushed back against those old boundaries and they pushed hard.

When the soldiers came home on leave, girls didn’t behave quite so demurely as they had in the past. Some were downright aggressive and were labeled as having ‘khaki fever.’  The older generation reacted by forming ‘Morality Patrols.’ These were made up of older women who wore uniforms and patrolled any place where young people liked to congregate. In London alone there were over 400 of them, marching through public parks, alleyways and especially at the cinema, where they would march through the aisles checking on couples with flashlights.  Naturally, even people having perfectly innocent conversations were suspect and they became something of a nuisance at the theater. In 1915, one man wrote to his local paper complaining that, “It is about time something was done about ancient spinsters following soldiers about with their flash lights.”

If you were upper class, you didn’t need to bother yourself with public parks, cinemas and those flashlight-wielding matrons.  You’d simply get a taxi and “do two turns around Regent’s Park.”  This brings to mind a few questions. Mainly, how big is Regent’s Park?  Because two turns seems … a little short.  And secondly, you have to wonder who was driving the cabs. Especially since all the young, virile men were either at the Western Front or being watched by the Morality Police.

Luckily for them (and us) more relaxed attitudes about human sexuality survived the war.  The babies born out-of-wedlock were treated as war orphans and didn’t suffer the stigma of bastard as the previous generation.  Having proven themselves by taking on men’s jobs during the war, there was no going back. After the war, women were given much greater freedom, both in the workforce and within marriage as equal sexual partners.

My story, ANGEL OF THE SOMME, begins my Great War Trilogy, about three English siblings during WWI. You can read more about it below.  And check out my website: terrimeeker.com

There’s a fine line between courage and insanity…and he flings himself over it. The Great War, Book 1 Captain Sam Dwight never thought his pre-war vow to “make a difference for good in the world” would come back to haunt him. After suffering a grievous head wound in battle, he awakens in a field hospital, barely able to utter a word. How fast would his beautiful, determined nurse call for a straitjacket if she knew that every time a bright light flickers in his eyes, he is transported back to the trenches, reaching out to heal a wounded soldier in a flash of dazzling light?

Lily Curtis has seen many a soldier racked with guilt, but she’s never seen one will himself to induce life-threatening seizures. She fears that next time, her hands won’t be quick enough to save her handsome, apparently suicidal charge. As rumors of an ethereal battlefield specter reach the ward, Sam becomes convinced that his front line mercy missions are real. But with each trip, he spins the roulette wheel with his own life while Lily’s love and the lives of those at the hospital hang in the balance.

Warning: In between gory and emotionally charged scenes on WWI battlefields and field hospitals, there are tall tales, a lemon tree named Henry, a blush-inducing blanket bath in which something pops up between nurse and patient, and a 500-pound pet pig.

Buy at Amazon

Four Reasons to Get WARLORD’S DESTINY Now! (Contest)

I love lists. So here’s one for you—

Reasons to grab a copy of Warlord’s Destiny now…

1) Do you love your warriors tall, well-muscled and with stamina to spare? Duh, right? Do you love a heroine with grit who’s not society’s notion of what’s perfect and beautiful? Someone you can relate to? Do you love it when a strong woman brings a proud warrior to his knees? Then you will love the hero and heroine of this book!

2) Do you love off-world, futuristic fantasy and medieval knights tales? How about a book that is both? Yeah, I was supposed to write a futuristic tale, but my hero kept insisting he was more Ragnar Lodbrok than Luke Skywalker. And since Ragnar is sexy as hell, I let my Lord Tetrik transform into my version of the perfect erotic romance hero…

3) Do you love a good orgy? I saw your eyes bug at that one. Six participants with all those sexy moving parts? For me, this was the most challenging scene in the book. How do you keep it fun and sexy and not confusing? If you’re curious, you have to get this book!

4) Right now, the price for this 21,000-word novella is just $0.99! Kindle Unlimited customers have a little longer to enjoy a great deal—they can get it for free for the next three months. But if you aren’t a KU subscriber, that $0.99 price isn’t going to last long! Grab your copy now!

Answer any of the questions I just posed for a chance

to win a $5 Amazon gift card!

And just a side note: If you enjoy the story, how about leaving a review? Somewhere. Or tell a friend. I appreciate everything you do! ~DD

“…In Delilah Devlin’s WARLORD’S DESTINY, a strong man is brought to his knees by an equally strong woman. Interesting, attractive personalities make this read especially powerful.”  ~Nominee for Best Paranormal Erotic Novel of 2005 by Romantic Times BookClub Magazine! TOP PICK! 4 1/2 Stars, RT BOOKreviews 


“Watching these two grow is both amusing and touching… I found Warlord’s Destiny to be a very well-written novel, and ultimately a very entertaining story to read.” ~Book Review Network

Mora has no illusions she’s anything other than the sacrificial lamb to ensure peace between her peace-loving planet and the warlike world that demands a royal union with one of their own. However, when she meets the rugged warlord who will be her husband, Mora decides in that moment to win his heart–she’ll settle for nothing less.

When Lord Tetrik suspects his wife harbors tender feelings, he wonders if he can be the husband she desires. After all, love for a woman is a frivolous thing–and not a warlord’s destiny.

Warning: Readers should beware. Wedding customs on other planets do not resemble tender newlywed customs on Earth! Expect a smidge of voyeurism and a 6-person ménage. And yes, a Kronaki warlord’s bed is built large enough for just such an event!

Purchase at Amazon  

So, that’s what Kronaki warriors look like!

Every story ever whispered about the fearsome warriors came rushing back to set Mora’s body trembling. How they fought like ravaging beasts, cutting bloody swaths through Graktilian mercenaries during the war. How they lived in rough, stone fortresses made of blocks carved from their frozen mountains. How they fostered their children to rival clans so they would be raised without gentleness.

How they fucked with such fury their women’s screams echoed throughout their valleys.

Mora felt a tremor rumble beneath the polished, marble floor of the great hall, so explosive was the swell of conversation that arose at the warriors’ arrival.

They were seven, dressed in furs and leather, armed with bows slung across their shoulders and scabbards at their sides.

She couldn’t drag her gaze from the man at the head of their formation, striding toward her—her husband in name, if not yet by deed. Although she had never seen him before this day, she knew it must be him, for he looked the fiercest, the strongest—only one such as he would be chosen to rule from amongst their ranks.

He was from a race of barbarians, seemingly as proud of their reputation for brutal warfare as their orgiastic sexuality. The latter, Mora could well believe for the man stalking her now looked every inch a sensual marauder.

A shiver of awe bit the base of her spine and trembled upward until the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood erect.

Taller by a head than any Mellusian, his broad shoulders nearly blocked out the sight of the two heralds dogging his steps as they attempted to halt him. He seemed not the slightest bit interested in following protocol by waiting for his name to be addressed to the assemblage. As if anyone attending the ceremony hadn’t already guessed who he was.

He’d also eschewed the fine wedding tunic Mora’s mother had personally designed—an embroidered silk affair that would have stretched absurdly across his bulging chest and arms.

No, he wore a vest of gray animal pelts that parted at the front, no doubt to tempt a woman’s gaze to ogle his obscenely muscled chest and follow the dark arrow of hair down his hewn abdomen. The black leather that encased his legs, strained over thickly corded thighs and the alarming swell of his manhood.

Mora’s heart tripped, and then fluttered like the wings of an aradil.

Her mouth dry, she forced her gaze upward to look at his face, but found no comfort there.

Lord Tetrik of Kronak—his name was as harsh as the angles of his square jaw and the sharp blade of his nose. His hair was dark like a moonless sky and worn like the old warriors in the paintings in History Hall—hanging past his shoulders with small braids on either side of his inflexible face. But his eyes frightened her most of all—chips of blue ice froze her in place as his gaze found hers across the noisy hall.

He would have to know she was his bride. She wore her wealth and importance in the weighty jewels studding her hair and gown and encircling her neck. She saw fury in that first glance. Had he already guessed he’d been cheated of the true prize? That her rich adornment was a ruse?

Her mother moaned behind her. “His ambassador said he was too busy to attend such an insignificant event. You should have worn the pink gown!” her mother hissed.

“It was covered in dirt, mother,” Mora whispered, keeping her gaze pinned on the man walking straight toward her. “It’s too late now, anyway. The ceremony is over.”

“He may still repudiate you. Oh, what were you thinking, digging in the garden on your wedding day?”

“I wanted a tuber rose to take with me to my new home.”

“As if a rose will grow in their rocky soil,” her mother said, her voice becoming thin and breathy the closer the warrior drew.

Mora hoped her mother didn’t choose this moment to faint. She suspected the Kronaki leader would scorn a woman frightened by the mere sight of him.

“That green makes your cheeks sallow,” her mother lamented, working herself into a high state of agitation. “You look as though you’re attending your own funeral.”

Mora couldn’t resist delivering a little dig. “Am I not? What do you think he’ll do once he finds himself wed to the wrong sister?”

“You should have worn the pink! It would have shown you to advantage.” She sounded on the verge of tears.

Her mother’s diatribe wore on Mora’s nerves. “Mother, it doesn’t matter if I wear the pink or the green, I’m no beauty. He will know. And by the look of that scowl he wears, he already does.”

“May the Goddess save us!”

“Hush, Hespha!” Her father finally intervened. “You frighten our daughter.”

Only that wasn’t quite true. Her mother’s words had the opposite effect, reminding Mora that by rights, her older sister should have been the one sacrificed to honor The Promise. But her sister had been deemed too delicate and hidden away when the day came to repay the decade-old debt owed the Kronaki. “She’d never survive the rigors of life on that harsh planet,” her father had said.

Her mother had been only too eager to agree to the substitution. Her delicate, slender little flower wouldn’t be surrendered to the barbarian. Instead, Mora stood in her place. She was anything but delicate—a fact that had pained and embarrassed her parents to no end all her life.

A flush of anger heated Mora’s cheeks. Try as she might, she couldn’t suppress the primitive emotion. Her parents thought so little of her they were willing to marry her to a beast. A black-haired beast that grew more enormous and intimidating as he approached the dais upon which most of the members of the Mellusian royal family stood.

Mora straightened her shoulders. Jewels and a fine gown would not deceive the man. She was dull quartz against the bright, blonde diamonds glittering inside the hall.

He stopped in front of the dais. The room fell silent while all in the assemblage strained to hear what he might say. His cold gaze raked her from head to toe. Even standing on the raised platform, she had to tilt her head to meet his glance.

Panic had her body tightening. Mora raised her chin another notch, unwilling to let him see her fear.

He lifted one dark brow, and his gaze swept her face, lingering over her lips. “What is your name?”

He knew! “Mora. I am Mora,” she said, surprised the words escaped her tight throat. Would he reject her? Strangely, she wasn’t certain she’d feel relief if he deemed her unfit. Humiliation at his hands would be the harder emotion to swallow.

His gaze cut to her father, and he nodded once. “It is done.”

Elle James writing as Myla Jackson: Ugly Stick Saloon Rides Again!

I’m one of those writers with two pen names, and I still run into readers who don’t know that I am one and the same. Last week, I attended the Romantic Times Conference in Dallas and it reinforced the fact readers still don’t get the connection. I’ve been torn between my Elle James commitments and my Myla Jackson commitments and have toyed with the idea of merging the two into Elle James. But then there is the matter of the UGLY STICK SALOON…

I don’t want to let go of the Ugly Stick Saloon. In fact, I’ve incorporated the saloon in my Elle James’s Billionaire series and hope to do more of that. So for the time being, I’ll be co-mingling Elle James and Myla Jackson at the Ugly Stick Saloon. At least until I can come up with a way to do justice to the transition. Soooooo….

The Ugly Stick Saloon Rides Again!

May 26th will be the next Myla Jackson release of an Ugly Stick Saloon book.

BOOTS AND THE BACHELOR

 Available May 26th (That’s next Tuesday!)

Pre-order here: Amazon Kindle | Nook | Ibooks | Kobo | Samhain

A cowboy takes a woman and her son under his wing…and teaches their hearts to fly.

Angus McFarlan’s mother can’t be serious. Sell the ranch? Yet Mom has a point. Bringing the Rafter M out of bankruptcy has kept Angus and his brother too busy to date, let alone have children to inherit the legacy.

The last thing Angus wants is to get half-naked for the Ugly Stick Saloon’s Annual Cowboy Auction, but it’s a jump start into the dating scene. His buyer turns out to be a Dallas businesswoman, all legs and curves—a challenge to unwrap from that sexy, buttoned-down suit.

CEO Gwendolyn Graves has no time for a relationship. All she needs is a male role model for her young son, Dalton. She never thought her bachelor cowboy would impose conditions of his own. Like make her agree to spend time with him. Alone.

As Angus teaches Dalton what it means to be a man, he and Gwen discover a passion that ignites flames they thought they didn’t have time to fan. And soon find themselves learning how to open their hearts and be a family. Just when they start thinking longer term, Dalton’s father re-enters the picture—and trouble isn’t far behind.

Warning: Quiet, sexy cowboy and woman in a tight suit get all unwrapped and tangled in the sheets in Texas.

Excerpt:

Copyright © 2015 Myla Jackson

All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

“That’s what we need,” Colin commented.

“What’s that?” Angus asked.

“A relationship like Audrey and Jackson have.”

“Those are so few and far between.” Angus slid off the stool. “Ready to go?”

Colin’s brows wrinkled. “Come on, Angus. Stay. I’m getting a kick out of watching this whole process.” He glanced around the room. “I can’t wait to see the next schmuck they conned into this.”

“Might be worth it if they were auctioning off a cook. With Mom on strike, we’re going to suffer.”

“Shh. Charli’s about to announce the next cowboy.” Colin leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face. “Gotta see who will be the next sucker.”

“Ladies, this next hunkilicious man is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for some lucky woman. He’s tall at six feet two inches.”

“Ahhh,” the crowd sighed as one.

“He’s got black hair and amazing gray eyes.” Charli dragged it out, spurring their anticipation.

Angus shook his head. Somewhere behind the stage or in the crowd, a cowboy was probably shaking in his boots, dreading the moment his name was announced and he was paraded around the stage like a pony.

“Descended from strong Scottish warlords, he’s a true-blue, honest-to-goodness, rough-around-the-edges rancher with big, calloused hands.” Charli paused and winked at the women. “You know what that means.”

The women screamed and clapped, beer sloshed and laughter followed. Every numbered paddle in the room fluttered.

Colin elbowed Angus in the ribs. “I could swear they’re describing you.”

Angus leaned forward, his heart stuttering against his ribs. He drew in a breath and held it.

“Ladies, our next offering will be for not one, not two, not three dates with this hunka hunka burnin’ love. The lucky winner gets four dates with a man some would call a horse whisperer, a real-life cowboy, boots and all.” Charli stared across the room, straight into his eyes. “One of Texas’s most eligible bachelors, Angus McFarlan!”

Colin shouted, “Hot damn!” Then he laughed so hard he doubled over, a hand pressed to his side, and fell off his stool.

How could this be? “I didn’t sign up for this,” Angus said, but wasn’t heard over the shouts and catcalls from the hundreds of horny women in the crowd.

Still sputtering, Colin pointed a finger at him. “You should see your face. I can’t believe she did this.”

“Who?” Angus would like to get his hands around the throat of whoever had played this rotten trick on him.

“Who do you think? Mom!” Colin slapped Angus on the back. “You’re in it now. These women won’t let you back out.”

“Come on up to the stage, Angus.” Charli crooked her finger and grinned. “The ladies want to see what they’re getting for their money.”

Angus turned to run, but was blocked by Greta Sue, the bar’s bouncer.

“Come on, cowboy, we’ll get you there in one piece.” Greta Sue grabbed his hand in her manlike grip and charged forward like a linebacker breaking through the defensive line of an opposing football team.

Angus tried to free his hand, but Greta Sue held tight. Short of hurting her, he had to go along.

Women touched, pinched and kissed his cheeks as he passed through the crowd. One of them caught hold of his shirt and wouldn’t let go. With Greta Sue pulling him one direction and his shirt going the other, the buttons gave, popping one at a time until the last one ripped free of the fabric. The shirt came off as he was pushed and shoved from behind, with Greta Sue leading the charge in the front.

The only good thing about making it to the stage was that Greta Sue released his hand and the women couldn’t pinch his ass. Angus stood, glaring at the rabid females, rubbing his butt and wishing he were anywhere but there. The exit seemed so far away. He spun, hoping to duck out the back of the stage, but Greta Sue stood behind him, her arms crossed, feet spread.

He could knock her down and make a run for it, but his mama had taught him better than to hit a woman, no matter how manly she might be. Getting through the crowd to the exit was not even the slimmest possibility.

Charli stood to the side, with that damned silly grin on her face. “What will you give for four dates with this mass of purely masculine muscle?”

Angus closed his eyes and prayed no one would bid. That he’d be allowed to walk free of this huge embarrassment. When he got home, he’d have a long talk with his mother about volunteering him for charity events he had no desire to be a part of.

“Five hundred dollars!” a woman shouted, waving her paddle from the middle of the room.

Angus’s hopes for a humiliating but commitment-free escape melted away as the first paddle rose high in the air.

“Do I hear seven-fifty?” Charli prompted.

“Yup!” Another paddle shot into the air.

“One thousand. Do I hear one thousand dollars?” Charli barely got the words out before another paddle rose.

“Me!” the woman cried out.

Angus stared out into the mass of eager female faces. “Ms. Fenton?” Was that the gray-haired librarian he used to visit once a month as a kid?

“That’s right, sweetie, I might be old, but I’m not dead.” She winked at him. “At least not yet. And I’d like a little beefcake to keep me warm for four delicious dates.”

Angus’s eyes widened. Holy shit. What was it about a cowboy auction that got the young and old single women to come out of the woodwork and blow their hard-earned cash on a few measly dates?

“Fifteen hundred anyone?” Charli stared around the room.

Angus did too, wondering if anyone would outbid Ms. Fenton and rescue him from four dates with a woman old enough to be his grandmother but with a wicked grin that frankly had Angus quivering in his boots.

The bidding stalled and Angus had to do something to get it going again, or he would be spending the next month taking Old Lady Fenton out to dinner. Not that she wasn’t nice and all, but the way she was rubbing her hands together made him as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Desperation drove him to do something he would never have done in a million years.

Angus tightened his abs and shoved a hand through his thick hair, pausing like the models and weightlifters did to show off the hard-earned six-pack definition across his belly. He hadn’t gained those muscles in a weight room. Tossing hay bales and lifting heavy fence posts did that to a man over the years.

God, he felt silly, but the crowd surged forward and eyes widened.

“One thousand going once…” Charli started.

“Fifteen hundred!” The woman who’d shouted was probably in her forties.

Angus nodded. Better. He couldn’t expect the younger ladies to have that kind of money. Dating a cougar wouldn’t be bad. Hopefully, she wouldn’t expect more than the four dates and he’d be done. Free to spend time with his horses.

“Turn around!” another woman shouted.

“Come on, Angus,” Charli said. “Turn around and let the women see the whole package.”

He frowned at her.

“It’s for a good cause,” Charli cajoled.

“Come on, Angus,” Colin’s deep voice called out over the others. “Show ’em whatcha got.”

Angus made a slow turn and paused with his back to the crowd, feeling incredibly stupid.

“Fifteen hundred going once…” Charlie gave a long pause, “…going twice…”

“Five thousand dollars!”

Angus spun toward the sound of utter insanity, searching the faces for the one woman who’d shouted.

Every face in the crowd turned as well, and they all seemed to be looking at the lady standing beside Mona at the bar. The auburn-haired woman who’d, for a brief moment, reminded Angus of someone who’d stolen his heart so many years ago. His chest tightened, and he squinted against the stage lights, but couldn’t quite make out her face.

“Sold!”

About the Author

MYLA JACKSON also writing as New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author ELLE JAMES is a former IT professional and retired Army and Air Force Reservist. She writes cowboys, romantic suspense, mysteries and paranormal romance that keeps her readers lovinng, laughing or on the edges of their seats to the very end of every book. When she’s not at her computer, she’s traveling to exotic and wonderful places, snow-skiing, boating, or riding her four-wheeler, dreaming up new stories.

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Newsletter | GoodReads |Amazon Author Page

Kathy L Wheeler: Having your own backlog….

Maintaining your own backlog…As a computer programmer, some would interpret this statement considerably different than a writer, perhaps.  As a computer programmer backlog indicates tasks intended to be completed in an efficient amount of time, specified by a business analyst. This ensures that work needed is completed within the timeframe and budget of a company’s constraints, therein ensuring the wheels of said company keep turning.

How does this apply to a writer?  And why is it important to maintain your own “backlog”?

Any writer who has, for example, been associated with, say, RWA for any amount of time, knows that moving forward is key. That perseverance and dogged diligence is what will get you published whether you are aiming for traditional or indie.  The act of writing, crafting, pitching, rejection—repeating the process, for as long as it takes—is indeed what will get you published.

I am not saying talent is not involved, but haven’t you read things that made you stop and wonder how they ended up published?  Let’s face it, all stories are subjective.  Talent is important, but it is not the end all. Talent must be honed and crafted and skilled. And let’s face it, most writers don’t get picked up from their first book, as most of us well know.

You have to keep writing. In other words, you have to build your “backlog.”

This is especially important as you start pitching to editors and agents.  Hypothetically speaking, what if the story you’ve written is similar to another author’s they recently signed?  But the editor/agent loves your story. So it doesn’t work for them due to current market, or circumstance. The conversation might follow something like this:

Editor:  “That sounds very intriguing.  I love the twist you managed at the end; however, we are looking for something more along the lines of blah blah blah.”

Of course, all you hear is the: “blah blah blah.”  But while the blood in your ears is pounding with the throb of another rejection, something else trickles through.

Editor:  “We love your voice.  Do you have anything else?”

Now the blood is rushing through your whole head, and you are praying it won’t spill out of your other orifices; i.e., eyes, nose, mouth, etc… because you have been writing for eight years, and submitting for almost as long.  So you can answer: “YES.”  But of course, you did not mean to yell at her, so you manage a deep breath to calm down, and answer again. “Y-yes, I-I do.”  By this time, you are praying she will forgive the stuttering.  (Even though you’d been practicing, your pitch for years, you forgot to instill the response to a positive rejection that might lead to an acceptance).

But that’s okay, because said Editor: “Wonderful.”  She smiles, happily so, because she knows that you are serious about your career and you are not a One-Time-Wonder.  She has all the faith in the world as she slides her card across the table to you.  “Please email your other completed manuscripts to me at this address.  I’m sure we can work something out.”

Of course, you are so shocked, your trembling fingers cannot seem to get the card off the table.  But you recover nicely enough (managing to snatch the card up), hand her a gracious smile, and say, “Thank you, so much. I’ll be in touch.”

And wasn’t it just lucky you had a “backlog” of books in your repertoire ready for that big day?

*~*~*~*~*

Kathy L Wheeler writes spicy contemporary to sweet historical and vice versa. She loves the NFL, NBA, musical theater, travel, reading writing and karaoke! She has a BA from the University of Central Oklahoma in Management Information Systems and Vocal Minor. She lives in Edmond Oklahoma with her musically-talented, attorney husband. They have one daughter, who is now a proud mama, and one very demanding cat!

Website: http://kathylwheeler.com

Facebook: http://facebook.com/kathylwheeler

Twitter: http://twitter.com/kathylwheeler

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/kathylwheeler

Reckless – Martini Club 4 Series – The 1920s

Downton Abbey meets Sex and the City

Lady Margaret turned Lady Bootlegger…

Singer Margaret (Meggie) Montley needs money…fast. Her friend is in a dire situation with nowhere to turn. While Meggie is on the brink of stardom, it’s not soon enough to save her friend.

Harry Dempsey is out to avenge the deaths of his father and brother at the hands of a ruthless gangster. But trouble spirals out of control when Meggie Montley shows up the night he meets his nemesis to settle the score. Saving the impetuous woman from a crime lord might be easier than saving her from her own reckless behavior.

Excerpt:

Meggie leaned forward. The light was too dim to make out the expression behind that deep pitch, but not the sound. Listening to him left her feeling alive, tingling from head to toe. Its timbre coursed through her the same as it had since the first night she’d invited herself to his table and sat down.

From his private corner, he’d watched her each night, sipping on his illegal whiskey, piercing her with eyes that matched his drink. Never having more than one, and always alone except for times she would meander over and tease a smile from those firm lips.

When the music hit her veins, the words that flowed from her mouth were directed to him. No wonder his regular seat was empty. Harry Dempsey must have been the man with whom Butch was speaking.

“Dempsey.” Joey’s tone held an edge of fear. “The…uh…dame took a wrong turn.”

Harry moved in her direction, his gait slow, deliberate, until he stood within touching distance. “Dame?” That single word rang through the abandoned space.

Oh no. Meggie launched herself from her hiding place and threw her arms about Harry’s neck. Locked in his muscular embrace, she rested her chin on his shoulder. His arms tightened around her. “Oh, Harry. I came as fast as I could. Just as we’d planned.” The words, she’d intended to carry, came out breathless.

“Fast, huh?” The whisper was against her ear where no one else could hear, raised goose prickles over her entire body. “Guess I’ll have to do something about that.” He lifted his head.

Buy links:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00RICW0G0

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/reckless-kathy-wheeler/1121304411?ean=2940151398398

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/reckless/id971958851?mt=11

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/reckless-87

Three Quickie Cowboys (Contest)

I love cowboys. And I’m guessing you do, too. I’ve been writing them as long as I’ve been writing contemporary stories. I’ve written them through a couple of series—Lone Star Lovers and Triple Horn Brand. And I’ve written them into short stories—quick bites of yummy Texans. Have you tried them out?

My love of cowboys comes from nine years of living in the Texas Hill Country with a working ranch butted up against my back yard. From my vantage it wasn’t uncommon to see cowboys on horseback or motorized mules, rounding up cattle. And every one of them was exactly how’d you picture them in your fantasies—lean and dusty in Wranglers, straw cowboy hats and boots. Now that those days are over, I can let my mind drift back—and imagine some very sexy goin’s on…

  

Big Brass Buckle — Caught in a sudden thunderstorm on a lonely stretch of Texas highway, I pull into a dingy little diner to wait out the rain, never dreaming the cowboy of my dreams would follow me inside. Now I have a couple of choices, play it coy and safe? Or go for the big brass buckle…

One Track Cowboy — After tracking two lost hikers, a park ranger and a local rancher lose themselves to a wild passion…

The Runaway Bride — After leaving him at the altar, a headstrong bride is captured by her cowboy and taught the pleasure of sensual discipline…

Comment for a chance to win one of the cowboy shorties here or one of the short stories on this carousel!

What about cowboy romances do you enjoy most?

// ]]><A HREF=”http://ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widg... Widgets</A>

Afton Locke: Sadie’s Romance – Doing the Boss

Most everyone has to work. We spend most of our time there. Sometimes it’s hard and not fun. A workplace romance can spice up the endless drudgery of a dead-end job. Especially when the object of desire is the boss. The thought of having a sexy man in a position of power run the bedroom is irresistible indeed.

In my latest release, Sadie’s Surrender, Sadie can’t face a future of shucking oysters. Lucky for her, Henry runs the oyster plant and he’s had his eye on her. They try to keep things strictly business, but you can imagine how that turned out. Check out the excerpt below for a sneak peek of their “business” boat trip.

Sadie’s Surrender by Afton Locke

Oyster Harbor ~ where passion and race collide

Release Date: 16 May 2015

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Sadies-Surrender-Oyster-Harbor-Book-ebook/dp/B00X1JZ03Y/

Stay tuned for reviews and more: http://www.aftonlocke.com/Sadie.html

Watch the Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/pzAlXVjO-xI

Read the entire Oyster Harbor series: http://www.aftonlocke.com/OysterHarbor.html

After her husband leaves her for another woman, Sadie Johnson feels unattractive. Unable to face a dreary future of shucking oysters and living with her critical mother, she dreams of being a businesswoman. But in 1936, opportunities for women of color in Oyster Island are limited.

An oysterman at heart, Henry Rockfield would rather sail than run the local branch of his brother’s oyster company. He’s not happy about belonging to the town Klan either, but he’ll do anything to keep the peace and help his family.

When sassy Sadie proves she can run the plant, he can’t resist putting her secretly in charge so he can return to the sea. But when desire resurrects a tragic mistake from his past, he learns business and pleasure are a dangerous mix. When racial conflict hits home, forcing them to choose between love and duty, will Sadie surrender?

Excerpt (explicit)

Sadie’s Surrender – Copyright © Afton Locke, 2015

Because one of them had to drive the boat, their passion couldn’t go any further. It was enough. Henry kissed and caressed her like he truly desired her. Anything more would complicate their lives.

His fingers dug into her backside, hungry and possessive. Her hips danced with the waves, pulling her hot, wet panties across her aching folds. The throb of the engine vibrated up each leg, straight to her clitoris. Her thighs trembled, desperate to spread and guide him into her soaked depths.

“I can smell your musk through the salt air.” He ground against her. “Do you have any idea how much I want to fuck you right now?”

She moaned into the wind. Her nipples hardened, stiff enough to bore holes through Leroy’s old shirt.

“We have to drive the boat. Besides, I’m sure you can find someone prettier and smaller when you decide to be with a woman again.”

“If you belittle yourself one more time, I’ll throw you overboard.” He grabbed her hand and placed it over his erection. “Besides, I’m not exactly small myself.”

Both her fingers and belly clenched as the craft crested a wave. A wild look burned from his dark-blue eyes. With his wind-tossed, damp hair, he resembled a sea god. He definitely wasn’t small. His tall, muscular frame must weigh at least two hundred pounds, and the bulge in her hand wasn’t tiny, either. It would fill her up and then some.

She needed to see him completely nude someday, as he’d seen her.

To her surprise, he unbuttoned his trousers, releasing his rigid cock. When he rubbed it on her thigh, she trapped it under her palm. The pink flesh burned away the cold in her fingers. Hot fluid leaked down the shaft, lubricating her strokes.

“Oh, Sadie. God, Sadie,” he moaned, thrusting harder. “I’ve got to have you.”

His entire body bucked so hard, she feared they’d capsize.

Next, he unbuttoned her trousers and tugged them down. Her skin tingled with goose bumps in the cool air. She felt even more naked here than she had lying on his bed. Dare she surrender a second time?

“Henry, what are you doing?”

Instead of answering, he peeled off his poncho and draped it around their waists. Her pulse sped up. The man was out of control, and she loved it. Gasping, she gripped the steering wheel. He’d distracted her so much, they zigzagged toward the shore instead of staying in the middle of the channel.

He palmed her buttocks and dragged the scorching head of his gorgeous cock across her. She figured he planned to rub himself against her again. Fine with her. His arousal excited her so much, she was a breath away from climaxing, too.

She moaned when the round head of his bare shaft slid across her folds.

“I think you’d better stop now, Henry!”

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?” He groaned, his voice throbbing through her bones like the boat engine.

“How long we’ve both wanted it?”

The head nudged her clitoris, massaging it back and forth.

“Henry!” Sobbing, she clenched the wheel. “You have to stop. For one thing, you’re not wearing a—”

Coming Soon

Deeper Than Perfect – 1970s time-travel\

Where readers can find me

Newsletter: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/thelovechronicle/

Web site: http://www.aftonlocke.com

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

Twitter: http://twitter.com/aftonlocke

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/Afton_Locke

YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/user/aftonlocke

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