Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 472

First Winner!

The first winner of The Random Act of Winning Contest is…Michelle Boone (Nov 17)! Congrats, Michelle! You’ve won your choice of free download from among my downloadable Ellora’s Cave books. Send your choice to me privately via email!

And the rest of y’all, remember, you have to post to win! Go read the contest rules!  ~DD

Guest Blogger: Joyce Palmer

Thank you, Delilah, for having me. Your support and encouragement have made all the difference.

MY LIFE IS OUT OF CONTROL —

NO, IT’S THE FIRE NEXT DOOR!

Whew! What a whirlwind life can be.

Like so many other unfortunate souls who’ve crashed and burned in recent times, we’ve known what it’s like to go from rags to riches, and then lose it all. Three years of teetering on the edge, I’m finally beginning to get the feeling back in my legs. Long story short, we’re starting over­.

We used to think success, and therefore happiness, was gleaned from what we’ve acquired—things. Life is about so much more.  Meaningful elements like love, good health, and honest friendships are greater gifts than anything money can buy.

I’m sitting in the cozy comfort of our friends’ tiny bungalow writing this post, and I couldn’t be more content.

Of course, having two steady paychecks calms the nerves a bit, too.   

My latest story was inspired by a fiery event next door.  The adjacent property owner raises chickens, roosters, rabbits, cats, dogs and God only knows what else on his small parcel of wooded land. He doesn’t live there, just comes and tends his animals and fiddles around the place.

A couple of psychedelically painted sheds and a dilapidated lean-to give the small compound a 1960s hippie flair. And the long-haired, gray-bearded loner in the jeep only feeds into the conclusion that he’s not all there. He sets fires and burn things.

One afternoon, I thought I smelled our friend’s barbequing out back. You’d think I’d be able to tell the difference between someone grilling food and a brush fire. Come to think of it, maybe I’m not all there either!

But anyway, the fire flamed out of control and the woods caught on fire. There are houses all around, set on five and ten-acre parcels with lots of trees. The possibilities were devastating.

The men in our group were all down at the barn (their man-cave) drinking beer, when my female friend next door came banging on my door screaming, “The fire is out of control!”

My heart dropped to my stomach. “You mean you’re not barbecuing?” I probably had my mind on a story. That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it.

I stepped into my flip-flops, grabbed my purse and keys, jumped in my car and called my husband down at the barn. He assured me we were fine. The fire department was on the way.

About that time, the big red fire truck came barreling down the long dirt drive and my heart began to calm. We dropped the tailgate of one of the pickup trucks and sat like idiots watching the delicious firefighters put out the fire. There actually was a yummy fire investigator, to which my friend said, “There’s your next hero, Joyce.”

And Familiar Flame was born…

A contemporary erotic romance

Warning: This story contains sexually explicit content, including anal play and the use of erotic toys.

Brandy rushes to release her neighbor’s pets when an unattended fire rages out of control, only to be confronted by a disgruntled fire-cop who vows to teach her a lesson in self-preservation.

Fire Inspector, Lucas Martin, arrives at the chaotic scene of a fire gone wild, and learns the sexy neighbor narrowly escaped her own demise while rescuing an irresponsible property owner’s animals.

As Lucas returns Brandy to her home next door, he discovers real meaning behind the phrase: Keep the flame burning.

http://joycepalmer.net 

Guest Blogger: Michelle Moore (Contest)

The highs make you giddy, but the lows’ll bury you

I’m Michelle Moore, half of the writing team responsible for the Ylendrian Empire scifi series, and Delilah has been kind enough to let me invade her blog with a guest post today.

The past few weeks have been interesting, to say the least.  Right before Halloween, my other (and most would say better) half, Reesa Herberth, was hospitalized with pulmonary embolisms.  Actually, do you use the plural term embolisms if there are multiple blood clots in both lungs or is it always just a pulmonary embolism singular?  Funny, never thought to ask the doctor about correct terminology.  Anyway, can I say how terrifying it is to hear that someone you love was within a day of dying if she hadn’t gone to the ER?  Pretty damn scary.  You know, just in case you were wondering.

The day Reesa got out of the hospital we got the news that we’d sold our newest novel to Riptide Publishing.   We sweated blood and tears over Peripheral People, mainly because it was a real stretch for us, a mystery with a psychic serial killer (in SPACE!).  Never having written a mystery before, we had a trial-by-fire learning experience, and while we both had the utmost faith in the story, we were still worried about finding it the right home.  So talk about euphoria when Rachel Haimowitz at Riptide contacted us.

I don’t think I’m mentally equipped for extreme ups and downs.  I have a tic in my left eye, I’ve chewed my cuticles to the quick, and if I were given the opportunity to get in bed with Delilah, I’m afraid it would only be so I could pull the covers up over my head and hide!

Anyone else been on an out of control see-saw?  Comment with your gory details for a chance to win an e-book copy of The Balance of Silence or The Slipstream Con.

Michelle

A Winner and a Brand New Contest!

A quick FYI for writers… I don’t have any guest blogging dates left November through January. Thanks to everyone who grabbed theirs quickly!

I’ve been back from my trip a couple of days. I’m caught up with email, sort of, snail mail, and the post-trip laundry. Now, I’m ready to hunker down and write my stubby little fingers off! Send me positive thoughts that I can actually power through the rest of this darn book!

Thought you might like to see the prize I brought back to the winner of The DC Kitschy Contest…

And the winner of the DC cup, snow globe, playing cards and magnet is…Kelli Jo Calvert (Nov 10)! Kelli, email me to let me know your snail mail addy. Congrats! And now, I have to catch up on all my mailings! Assistant! Where’s my assistant?

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The Random Act of Winning Contest!

What can you win? I don’t know! I love saying that. But really, for the next two weeks, I might pop in one day and choose a winner. The prize might be a free download or a small gift cert from Amazon. I don’t know. Drop by every day and comment, and you might get lucky and find out!

What do you have to do to win? Post comments on this blog from now until the contest ends! Each time you post counts as another entry!

This contest ends on November 29th!

* * * * *

I’ll start the conversation with a question. Answer for a chance to win. Can’t say for sure I’ll chose a winner today, but that’s the fun of this, right?

If you had to choose weather that’s typical for your area in any given month and make it last the whole year-long, which month’s weather would you choose? Are you a June girl like me? Early summer in Arkansas isn’t horribly muggy just yet, but it is warm enough to heat up my pool. What’s your favorite month’s weather and why? Could you really take it for the whole year? (Yes, I really, really could!)

Guest Blogger: Dani Wade (Contest)

Snow Bound (In All the Right Ways)

Snow. The very sight and sound of it’s descent to the earth is magical. The hushed anticipation that comes with the first few snowflakes as they drift to the ground before melting.

I know those of you who live with it knee-deep several times a year might not feel the same, but for those of us living in the southern United States, the appearance of this enchanting weather phenomenon is few and far between. My debut novella opens with the little town of Cadence experiencing the worst snowstorm the Tennessee valley has seen in a decade. While it takes several feet to confine those of you in other places to your homes, down south whole towns can be incapacitated by a few inches because we don’t have the equipment to keep roads clear and make travel safe on icy highways.

I have wonderful memories of few and far between snow days. The still silence of standing in the woods while crystallized flakes blanket the ground in a crunchy white crust. Watching the first reactions of my babies, totally unused to this freezing ground cover. My father and neighbors clearing our little rural road with their own chainsaws after waiting days for the county to move downed trees. And refusing to get on the roads because, in case you don’t know it, us southerners are dangerous on ice! Not near enough practice, in my opinion. But one particular memory stands out in my mind.

During the first year of my marriage, we had a major snowstorm that covered the state with a layer of ice underneath the white stuff, along with a week of temps that kept the slick surface from melting. And since we weren’t keen on getting run over, my hubby and I holed up in the house with a heating unit not nearly adequate enough to keep the freezing air at bay. Best defensive action? 2 bodies. 1 blanket.

I guess I don’t need to explain where that type of scenario might lead? Especially for newlyweds. SNOW BOUND’s hero and heroine are certainly tempted to heat up their nights while snowed into the heroine’s isolated farmhouse – if they can keep safe from the past determined to terrorize their cozy little nest.

What’s your favorite way to pass the time if you’re SNOW BOUND?

Today I’m giving away a cute little “snow” pack to 1 lucky commenter, including hot chocolate, a snowman cookie, fuzzy lap blanket, and a $5 Amazon gift card. My heroine would most definitely approve!

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SNOW BOUND

Available now through Amazon and Smashwords.

The last thing Damon West wants is a trip to his bookish neighbor’s house in the midst of the worst snowstorm Cadence, TN, has seen in a decade. Still, his military instincts warn him that Miss Priss could use a little help. His arrival is met with an attack by an unknown assailant and the sight of Miss Priss in a sexy wisp of nothing-much, confidently wielding a double-barreled shotgun.

Tori Anderson carefully portrays herself as a responsible bookstore owner and capable young woman to anyone willing to look twice. But two men grappling in her backyard called for speed more than decorum. That’s how the guy she’d been secretly lusting after since he’d bought the house next door sees her in a silky robe and panties—with nothing in between. Damon’s sudden interest thrills her, but she can’t help worrying about the unknown threat scared off by her shotgun blast.

Trapped in her house under several feet of snow with no way to reach the outside world, Tori finally has the chance to indulge her wildest fantasies. But she isn’t sure which is more daunting—the abusive boyfriend back to punish her or her desire to have more than one night with the town’s most unavailable bachelor.

A PERFECT TRIFECTA is here! And winners announced!

I’m back from the DC area! Lovely visit there with family, but I’m glad to be home. The drive was grueling up and back. We delivered Great Pyrenees puppies to be rehomed, and my daughter picked up two German Shepherds for training. So tons of stops along the way for walking and watering. Did I say I’m glad to be home?

I have winners to announce for the two countdown contests I ran while I was gone. Winners were chosen via random number generator.

The winner of the free download of Five Ways ‘Til Sunday is…Sue Foster!

The winner of the free download of Fournicopia is…Debbi D’Attomo!

Ladies, email me at delilah@delilahdevlin.com to arrange delivery of your prizes. Congrats! Hope you enjoy!

Don’t forget about the DC Kitschy Contest that ends Thursday! I brought back a mug, a magnet and a snow globe. I’ll try to post a picture of the prizes some time today so you can see what’s up for grabs.

But the big news today is that A Perfect Trifecta released! If you wouldn’t mind too much, head to Amazon and click on “Like” and the tags. It helps raise visibility of the book to other readers. And if you read it, I’d very much appreciate you posting a review to let other readers know how you are enjoying the series. Purchase links are listed below the sexy cover! Thanks!!

Buy at Samhain

Buy at Amazon

One day to A PERFECT TRIFECTA!

NaNo Day 12:

SS-2—0 words (vacation)

Sometime today, I’ll be rolling into my driveway, exhausted after my whirlwind trip to the DC area. But no rest for the weary, here. I have to knuckle back under to catch up on all those NaNoWriMo pages I didn’t write while I was gone. Send me good wishes that I can pick right up where I left off!

In the meantime, I’m sharing another little excerpt from the newest book in the Delta Heat series. This one releases sometime after midnight. Be sure to order it now so you won’t have to wait a minute to read it once you power up in the morning! I love this series. I plan two more stories to finish my 5-4-3-2-1 countdown. Bet you can’t guess who I’m saving for last…

This time, you’ll meet my easy-going cop, Craig Eason. He’s quick with a smile, charming as all get-out, but just a little confused about what else he might be. Be warned! This scene is not for the faint of heart! And I had fun with it, because this same scene is depicted in the prequel book, but from totally different points of view. Here you find out there was a heck of a lot more going on than you thought.

Playing with pain can put you in a world of hurt…or bliss.

Playing switch in front of a La Forge BDSM club audience was supposed to be a one-time fling. A favor for a friend. Instead, when Craig Eason realizes he’s caught the attention of an enigmatic, powerful Dom across the crowded room, he senses this could be the man he’s been looking for to test the boundaries of his own sexuality.

Firefighter Aiden Byrne is a very private man with strong S&M longings he keeps in check for everyone else’s safety. His sub, Jennifer Callum, thinks she likes it rough, but he can’t let go the way he’d like to. Until one defiant stare from the handsome cop on the La Forge stage causes Aiden’s most dangerous needs to uncoil from the deepest, darkest part of his soul.

With the blessing—and active involvement—of his sub, a seduction is set in motion that ends in a scene that shakes them all to the core…

Product Warnings: Contains a powerful, burly firefighter who plans to take everything a hot cop thinks he knows about himself and send it up in smoke. Please replace the batteries in all your smoke detectors before reading this book. Contains scenes with m/m/f, m/m, spanking, flogging, restraints, and one wild orgy of pleasure.

Craig Eason stood in the shadows, his stomach tightening with a mixture of dread and excitement. He cracked his neck from side to side, then stepped toward the rear of the crowd gathered around the stage, his hands on hips, waiting for his cue.

Where minutes ago techno music had blared through the door of the changing room while he’d donned a thin pair of black cotton sweats, Club La Forge was now eerily quiet.

Lights from the crystal chandelier that lit the large main salon were dimmed. A spotlight shone above one stage, drawing all gazes.

The pretty little redhead who stood in the center of the raised stage looked poised and confident, but Craig knew the Domme was a quivering bundle of nerves, and he couldn’t help but smile. One of his best buds, Gus Taggert, was about to receive a hell of a sexy beating from his very own doughnut girl—a woman the big guy hadn’t stopped talking about since he’d been conned into buying doughnuts at her shop. Gus had fallen as hard as a stack of bricks the moment Aislinn Darby had told him to face the pastry shelf and spread ’em—and then firmly gripped his junk.

Craig understood how a moment like that could change a man. He hoped to have a moment like that of his own one day soon. Maybe it would happen here at the club. Maybe it would happen tonight, but he wasn’t holding his breath. Tonight was Gus’s night. Craig was only here for support, or so Aislinn had said. Although exactly what kind of support he wasn’t a hundred percent sure after she’d grilled him over the acts he’d be willing to perform, like a menu of spicy dishes, some so hot he’d gotten instantly hard. When she’d finished, he’d asked what exactly she had in mind.

Ever since he’d asked that question and gotten a cool smile, he’d been sweating. Aislinn, or Ash as she was called here, had plans, and he was just a tool. Just another switch willing to play sub to her Domme for a chance to get noticed by someone who might make a difference in his life. Craig had needs, dark needs that he wanted filled. And he hoped for a connection, mind, body and soul, but for now, he’d settle for someone steady. Someone who’d see him on a regular basis so he could get his freak on without having to negotiate each session like he was ordering a hamburger at a drive-through.

He cast his glance around the expansive, high-ceilinged room. The crowd was larger than usual. Word was out something special was happening tonight. Tonight was all about consequences—a reckoning Gus had earned for topping his sweet Domme from the bottom the previous Friday.

Craig couldn’t help but be a little jealous. Gus’s girl was one fine-looking woman. Ash was dressed in leather the color of a juicy orange and looked as tasty as a sherbet cone. Gus would take one look and want to lick her from head to toe. Craig’s own mouth watered. The tiny top she wore looked like a bikini bra that had gone through a shredder. Skinny, strategically placed straps held it together. A tight little red leather skirt with darker flames licking at the short hem hugged her cute, round ass.

Her flame-red hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her eyes were rimmed in black. Nothing of her nervousness showed in her pale face, but Craig had seen the quiver in her hands when she’d spoken with him earlier. She’d pulled it together. She faced the crowd with confidence now. When Gus strode nude toward the stage, Ash’s gaze locked on his buddy’s tall, thick frame and stayed there.

Craig’s sex started to stir, watching for that moment the couple’s gazes locked. Ash froze. Gus’s gaze never faltered even though sweat gleamed on his chest and face. His cock stood erect, bobbing in front of him. Craig didn’t think Gus had ever looked more proud—like a man on a mission who wasn’t going to let fear or embarrassment get in the way of what he wanted. And not a person in La Forge had any doubts that the thing he wanted most was Ash.

Craig’s mind wandered a bit as Gus climbed the stage to stand in front of Ash, his head bent in submission. They spoke together, too quietly for their words to carry. Then Gus turned away and walked to the sawhorse set beneath chains draping from the ceiling.

The moment the Domme scanned the crowd and found Craig, his body stiffened. He was to be her helper this night, but Craig knew he’d have a more active role than just handing her implements. Not that he minded.

Since he’d first come to La Forge, he’d refused to let himself be labeled as a Dom-in-training or a sub in search of his own master. He’d played switch, shifting adroitly according to the situation, playing at bondage but learning to love punishment. Something Mondo Acevedo, another of his inner circle of friends and a true Dom, had learned early on.

Ash gave him a nod, his cue, and he pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring Gus’s changing expression. The worry he saw reflected there only made Craig smirk. He was all for making Gus uncomfortable. If it meant he might have to give up a little pride, well, it was all for a worthy cause.

Gus gave him a frown, not understanding until Craig climbed the steps onto the platform, strode straight for Gus where he stood in front of the sawhorse, then reached up to grab the first cuff.

Craig raised an eyebrow.

Gus muttered but complied, letting Craig fasten metal restraints around both his wrists.

Craig stepped close. “Grip the metal bars,” he said softly. “They’ll save your wrists.”

Gus gave him a tiny nod and Craig backed away.

Ash drew closer and petted Gus like she would a horse, gliding her hands over his gleaming hide. Then she slid between Gus and the sawhorse, cupping his erection and gripping it firmly, pulling up on it until Gus lifted on his toes.

Craig’s balls tightened against his groin. He enjoyed the rush of blood filling his cock and causing it to rise against the front of his pants.

Watching Ash, firm yet gentle, so small beside the quiet giant, Craig admired her control. She reached beside her, palm up. She’d told him how they’d start.

Craig stepped to the tray set atop a rolling stand and picked up a bundle of black straps, which he handed to Ash, a smile again quirking up one corner of his mouth. Gus wasn’t going to like this.

Ash formed a cup with the straps, which she slid down Gus’s dick. Then she tightened the leather around the base of his cock.

Craig realized he’d watched his buddy’s cock a little too long and forced his gaze away, only to have it land on a tall man sidling up beside the club’s manager, Jennifer Callum. His attention was caught. The man dwarfed Jenn even though she was tall. Reed-slim, leggy, with black hair that fell to her waist, her pale skin contrasted beautifully with the darkly tanned man.

Dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt with the cuffs rolled up and black leather pants, the man was every bit as large as Gus. But the angle of his chin and his assured swagger marked him as a Dom just as much as the shy, downcast glance Jenn gave him marked her as his sub a moment before the man bent and kissed her lips. Then he gripped her waist and turned her to face the stage, his gaze roaming over Ash and Gus.

Ash had begun to work Gus with a short, soft flogger, the brushstrokes hypnotic in their steady rhythm. The man’s dark eyes gleamed approvingly. Craig couldn’t have said why, but the look the man wore, his dark eyes glinting with interest and approval, did things to him. Made him want to beg for a session serving as sub to the large man. He’d subbed for Mondo more than once, submitting in order for Mondo to display a technique, never for sex, although Mondo had pushed him toward punishment so hard a few times he’d come. With Mondo, subbing wasn’t about sex, but about learning one’s own limits.

From the corner of his eye, Craig watched as Ash lifted her arm and lashed down at an angle across the tops of Gus’s buttocks.

Craig stifled a moan, his gaze locking now on the motion of Ash’s arm as she stroked Gus’s ass while the big guy counted in a gruff voice.

Watching her, Craig imagined the dark-haired man brushing him with a cat-o’-nine-tails with the same even strokes that trailed slowly off Gus’s skin. He imagined the fiery lash of the hard leather strands, the sting of the barbs as they dug into his flesh. Only when his cock began to grow painfully hard did Craig realize how excited he was becoming. He dragged in deep breaths and then let his gaze roam to the tall man. Dark eyes locked with his. A slight smile kicked up the corners of the other man’s mouth. Craig’s breath caught and his face flushed.

The other man gave him a slow nod, then pointed his chin to Ash.

Craig turned.

Ash’s eyebrows lifted in question. “Craig, move the sawhorse closer.”

Craig leaped to obey, a bounce in his step as he approached and inched the heavy sawhorse closer to Gus’s hips. Then he walked to the wall, turned the wheel where the chain wound around it and slowly lowered Gus’s arms.

Ash glided a hand up the center of Gus’s strong back, spread her fingers and pushed. “Bend over it.”

A low growl rumbled through Gus.

Craig knew Gus was reluctant to point his ass to the crowd. Craig would have been too.

But Ash didn’t allow Gus time to gather his thoughts. She kicked apart his feet, exposing his parted buttocks and hanging sac to the audience.

Craig sucked in a deep breath, empathizing with Gus’s embarrassment until the moment Ash applied another flogger, one that gave a sharper sound as it met Gus’s reddened skin. And again, Craig imagined himself tied similarly, his arms and legs spread wide, his ass exposed…vulnerable in a way he’d never been with a man other than Mondo, who’d never made him wonder whether the Dom would take advantage of that vulnerability.

The sharp crack of the flogger stopped, pulling Craig’s attention from his reverie.

Gus was still bent but was now trembling.

Ash traced his crack with a fingertip. “You’ve done well,” she said, her voice even. “But I want more. Will you give it to me?”

“Jesus,” Gus whispered. When she prodded the opening and then slipped inside, his head sagged between his shoulders.

She raised her gaze to Craig. “The blindfold, please.”

Caught gawking, he turned to the tray again and picked up the blindfold, already folded, and tied it around Gus’s head, blinding him. It made what he knew instinctively was about to happen so much easier to contemplate.

Craig was worried about Gus’s reaction. Wondered how their friends would react, but Ash had been insistent that she needed Gus’s full submission. As further incentive to Craig, she’d said that Mondo would be watching all of them, assessing how they all performed. Craig’s role would be judged. A match with a steady Dom might result if Craig impressed.

Ash gave Craig a wink—and he knew without being told what she wanted him to do. Dragging air into a tightening chest, he rolled down the band of his sweats, not stopping until he freed his cock and balls. Then he blew out a deep breath, because hey, he was out there, balls and dick hard and heavy for anyone to see.

His gaze darted to the man standing behind Jenn. The burly man’s dark gaze smoldered. Excited for reasons he’d rather not admit, Craig gave himself several gliding pumps before looking back to Ash and giving her a nod that he was ready.

She pulled her finger from Gus’s ass, wiped it clean with a wet wipe, then strode toward Gus’s head. She dug a finger under his chin and raised his face. “Do you belong to me?” she asked, her voice carrying over the crowd.

Gus gave a tense, “Yes, Mistress.”

Craig shared a smile with Ash. Gus was getting worried about what was coming next.

“Then open your mouth,” Ash said in a throaty voice. “Take what I give you. Know that it pleases me to watch.”

Craig grimaced, but moved in front of Gus.

She poked his side. “You wanted to be my helper,” she whispered.

He’d wanted a lot of things. To be there when Gus unraveled. To have permission to play with another man—something he never did outside a scene. “Buddy…bite me,” Craig whispered harshly, “and I swear…”

Gus clamped his lips tight. Craig wasn’t disappointed. His sense of humor resurfaced and sliced through his embarrassment.

Ash bent to Gus’s ear. “You refuse. This ends.”

Gus gave a groan, but then he opened his mouth even as his shoulders and chest tightened so much his muscles trembled.

On an upstroke, Craig gripped his shaft just beneath the cap and placed the head of his cock against Gus’s mouth, pushing gently to slowly feed it inside.

Gus growled around it, loudly at first. The sound died away the deeper Craig pushed toward the back of his throat.

Ash leaned toward Gus’s ear. “Baby, suck it. For me.”

Even before the firm mouth locked around his dick began to pull, Craig was counting silently to himself, trying every trick he knew to keep from blowing straight down Gus’s throat.

The feel of Gus sucking his dick, not just giving it a token tug but drawing deeply, his jaw working to strengthen the sensation, evoked a hard shudder that shook Craig from head to toe.

His eyelids began to dip, his body swayed forward and back, but then he glanced up and caught the dark-haired man’s own lambent gaze. The man’s eyes narrowed, and then he gave a short side-to-side shake of his head.

Don’t come. Don’t come, Craig imagined a rough voice saying.

Feeling as though he was being tested, Craig widened his eyes, dug deep inside himself and thought of crime-scene photos, autopsies, anything to keep from giving in to the delicious sensation of one of his best friends blowing him.

Soft applause sounded around them. It wasn’t for him, but for the couple at the center of the scene. For Gus’s willingness to submit everything to his Domme. Still, Craig appreciated the clapping, used it to keep himself distracted.

Ash walked quietly back to the tray, unzipped her skirt, let it fall and kicked it to the side. Naked below, she stepped into a harness and fitted a dildo to the front.

Craig groaned under his breath, then shot the other man another look. Again, the dark-haired man shook his head.

Craig started to sweat and increased the speed of his hips, deepening and quickening the strokes he gave Gus’s hot mouth. Not that Gus seemed to notice, because his jaw slackened the moment Ash lubed his back hole and worked her fingers inside him.

Craig cradled Gus’s cheeks to ease the strain on his neck as Ash thrust three fingers inside, then pulled free to ease the dildo up her lover’s ass.

Gus’s body shuddered. Deep, desperate moans vibrated all around Craig’s cock.

“It’s okay, Gus,” she whispered. “It’s okay. Come for me. Do it now, baby.”

Gus clamped hard around Craig, sucking him in deeper.

Craig met the dark man’s gaze again and received a short nod.

Thanking God, he let his head fall back as he slammed deep until the first hot spurt of come ripped through his dick.

Two Days to A PERFECT TRIFECTA! (Contest)

By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be starting my looooong journey home. The trek from the DC area to my Arkansas home is about 17 hours! While I’m still away from my desk, I’m tempting you again with a snippet from the second book in the Delta Heat series, Fournicopia. Yeah, I love that title too, and I love, love, love Ash and Gus, the two central characters in this story. What’s not to love about a pint-sized Dom and the giant of a cop who wants to be her one and only…sub.

Come along as the two meet each other for the first time. And if you leave a comment here today, you’ll be in the running for a free download of the book. Yeah, yeah, if you already have it there’s got to be something from my backlisted, downloadable Samhain books you might want instead.

 Forget the sugar. Send her the spice.

Delta Heat, Book 2

Gus Taggert knows a setup when he sees one. The doughnut shop his police officer buddies have sent him to, Cornucopia, is too frilly. Too pink. Then the woman behind the counter serves up a mini-lesson in submission that leaves him ready and willing to obey her order to see her tonight at La Forge BDSM club.

The large, burly cop is exactly the kind of alpha guy that newly minted Domme Aislinn Darby has been dying to tie up and spank. Yet after she puts him through his paces, she finds herself eager to let him take control—something she’s never before enjoyed with a man.

Determined to find out once and for all if she has what it takes to control a scene, she orders him up for one more go. Only this time, she intends to ensure he remembers who’s in charge. She’s even willing to offer a little bribe: accept her dictates, and his reward is her—any way he wants her.

Except when it’s time for payback, it comes with several twists she never saw coming.

Product Warnings: When a male sub decides to turn the tables on his pretty Domme, he calls for backup from his best friends. Contains scenes with m/m/f, m/f/m, f/f, spanking, restraints, and an orgy of pleasure no woman can resist.

Gus Taggert knew it was a cliché. A cop in a doughnut shop. The officers waiting for him to arrive for the sergeant’s morning meeting didn’t like making the run because of the inevitable roll of the eyes or smartass grin they’d get standing in line.

However, he didn’t mind being the “doughnut guy”. The plus for being the brunt of any jokes was that he ate for free. That was okay with him. He took any pointed looks or lame jokes in stride. He was an affable guy. Hard to rile.

He’d learned long ago to stifle his anger and look for the good in people, even when they messed up. Being oversized and strong, he’d always had to be more careful throwing his weight around. People could get hurt, and that wasn’t why he’d been drawn to law enforcement. He wasn’t a bully in a uniform.

Gus liked being a cop. Liked what it stood for. Loved the dark navy uniform and the camaraderie of his brother cops. He didn’t mind that his closest buds were all moving on to bigger and better things. He liked being a beat cop. Liked patrolling the neighborhood he lived in and getting to know the people he protected.

His father had been a small-town cop, and his father before him had been the sheriff of their little Arkansas berg. But then his mom had moved to Memphis—not because she’d wanted to, but because when his mom and dad divorced, she’d wanted to start fresh where everyone didn’t know her business and didn’t whisper to her ex about who she was seeing next.

Gus had missed his old school and friends, but had a natural gift for making new ones. That he was big and brawny, quick on his feet despite his size, had made him a natural for the football team.

And that’s where he’d met Jackson Teague and Craig Eason, who surprisingly enough wanted to be cops, too, when they graduated.

They’d all gone to college together, applied for the police academy and been accepted. That’s where they’d met the remaining members of their current posse, Beau McIntyre and Mondo Acevedo.

So, Gus was never lonely. He had his peeps, a job he loved, a city that kept him on his toes. And today, he was on his way to explore a new doughnut shop.

Mondo, although now in vice and no longer attending the station-house morning meetings, had given him a roll of bills the night before. “Treat the guys to doughnuts. On me.”

Gus had glanced at the roll. “This is too much.”

“Not for the place I want you to go.”

He should have known from the gleam in Mondo’s dark brown eyes that something was up, but Gus liked to think the best of people. Maybe Mondo really did just want to treat the guys to something special.

Well, it was special all right. Not like any doughnut shop Gus had ever seen before. He stood on the street in front of the small store front, eyeing the painted glass window with its pink awning, and felt the first rumbles of misgiving.

Cornucopia. He’d had to Google it the night before to get the address and see what the name meant. A horn of plenty. A familiar Thanksgiving ornament. But there weren’t ears of corn or squashes spilling from the dark pink horn painted on the glass. Doughnuts looking like Christmas presents, painted with ribbons and sparkling with stars, spilled from the mouth of the horn.

All the pink and frothy cuteness made him itch. However, he’d been given a wad of cash and a mission to buy a couple dozen doughnuts from this specific shop. For once, his face burned at the idea.

Hitching up his utility belt, he blew out a deep breath that billowed his cheeks, and pushed the glass door. A bell at the top tinkled.

Inside, the shop was pretty much what he’d expected—pale purple tiled flooring, white-painted iron bistro tables, boxes decorated in frou-frou paper and ribbons stacked at one end of the sparkling clean glass-front counter.

Thankfully, the shop was empty. Maybe he could back out, say it’d been closed when he came by, and he could hit a Dunkin’ Donuts on the way to the station house.

As soon as he’d made up his mind to leave, he heard a stirring from the back, and rather than be caught with one foot still on the sidewalk outside like he was scared to come in, he stepped through the door and held the bell so it didn’t chime again.

“Have a thing for bells?” came a husky feminine voice.

His gaze darted back to the counter, his cheeks filling with heat. A woman stood there, every bit as pretty and dainty as her little shop, with dark red hair, pale-as-dinner-china white cheeks and large brown eyes. The kind of woman he avoided like the plague because he always felt like a lumbering bear beside them.

What had she asked? Oh, yeah, the bells. He didn’t have a thing for them, he’d only wanted to be quiet and not charge into the place like a bull in a china shop. “No, ma’am.”

“That’s a nice start,” she said, her voice dropping again into a sexy, shivering whisper.

Gus’s cheeks burned hotter, because he knew she’d just made a joke and he didn’t understand it. Further, meeting her amused gaze proved surprisingly difficult. He had the urge to duck his head. To wait for permission to come closer.

Her amusement faded. “Come in, officer,” she said with brisk efficiency. “Can I help you with something?”

He cleared his throat, scuffed his boots on the doormat, like that was why he’d paused coming in, and stepped deeper inside the shop. “I’m just here to buy some doughnuts.”

“I don’t sell just doughnuts.” Her voice sharpened.

Had he insulted her somehow? He came closer to the counter. “They’re pretty doughnuts.”

“I’m a trained pastry chef. These are gourmet doughnuts.”

Like he’d said, they were pretty, but he didn’t get what it was she expected him to say. He thrust his hand into his pocket and took out the roll of bills Mondo had given him. “Mondo said you’d fix me up.”

“Mondo…” Her eyes sparkled for a moment, then narrowed. “Show me which you’re interested in.”

He reached out to point at one confection sitting on a tray atop the glass counter. The doughnut looked more like a pretty cupcake and was covered in glaze with star-shaped silver beads glinting on the top. “Some of these?”

Her hand shot out and slapped the top of his. Not hard, but the loud crack it made startled him. “Ma’am?” he asked, startled she’d dared smack an officer of the law.

“Correct response again,” she said, an edge to her sexy voice. “However, I think you need to come around the counter and make your selection.”

Right about now, he knew his face was beet red. And the collar of his shirt was tightening like a noose, cutting off his air. “Beg your pardon?”

“Come. Now.”

His body reacted to the firm tone with an instant surge of heat straight to his groin. With his balls drawing up, he thought he might embarrass himself further if he got too close to the pretty pastry chef. “Uh, a couple dozen’s all I need,” he said swiftly. “Whatever you want to put into a box.”

The redhead narrowed her eyes. “Mondo’s a friend of mine. He said he was sending me someone special. Don’t disappoint me.”

Mondo was her friend. The way she’d emphasized the word put this strange conversation in a new perspective. Her tone, the hardening glint in her pretty eyes, the stubborn tilt of her chin—good Lord, she was that kind of friend, someone from Mondo’s club, which Gus had visited a time or two out of curiosity first, then growing wonder.

He swallowed hard, beginning to sweat, then slowly made his way around the glass-front counter toward her, seeing the rest of her lovely, slim frame. When he stood a couple feet away, he ducked his head, dropping his gaze. Waiting now, for what he didn’t know, but he knew instinctively she was pleased, because she sighed.

“You’re bigger than I expected.”

Oh hell, what was she looking at? Had his erection become noticeable?

“And you’re better looking.”

He gave a little smile, letting her see it, but still not raising his glance. The parts of her he could watch were fascinating anyway. Her breasts were small but round, and the tips were beginning to poke through her pink-buttoned blouse and lacy bra. Her pale trousers were cinched at the waist with a white leather belt, and it was a tiny trim waist that offset the feminine flare of her hips. Legs proportionate with her body stretched below to pink-tipped toes that peeked out of sandals she wore. His mouth filled with drool. He’d give a week’s wages for the privilege of sucking on them.

She slid open the door to the back of the counter and waved for him to have a look.

Gus wished like hell she’d move back, because standing this close, he got a whiff of her light, floral scent. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead.

Feeling clumsier by the minute, he bent to glance inside the shelves at the array of fancy doughnuts. Sheesh. Not a single plain glazed one. The guys were going to razz the hell out of him.

Suddenly, she stepped behind him, her hands landing on either side of the cabinet to trap him.

He gulped hard. “Ma’am?”

A knee climbed along the inside of one of his thighs, then snuggled against his balls. He froze—blood surged south, filling his cock. Then she slid her knee down and tapped his feet with one of hers, urging him silently to widen his stance.

Which he did. No question or quick denial came to mind. He braced his hands against the glass like a perp ready for a pat-down, dreading and yet eager for whatever she’d do next.

Her hand cupped his balls. “Anything you like?”

Afraid he’d bleat like a goat if he tried to answer, he nodded.

Her fingers closed around his sac, and she gave him a gentle tug. “Me too.”

Then just as quickly, her hand fell away and she moved back.

Gus pushed from the counter and turned.

Her eyes were softer, her expression pleased. She laid a palm against the side of his face. Her thumb stroked his bottom lip. Her gaze dipped to his name tag then back up again. “When I see you next, Officer Taggert,” she whispered, stepping closer, “don’t say a word. Take off your clothes and be ready for whatever I want next.”

His tongue felt glued to the top of his mouth. Sure he wouldn’t manage more than a caveman’s grunt, he nodded again.

A small hand cupped his cock through his uniform pants and rode the length trapped against his thigh inside his dark cargo pants. “There’s more to you than shows. I like that. Look at me.”

He raised his gaze, stopping on the faint curve of her full lips, then rose again to lock with her gold-flecked brown gaze.

She reached up, stuck the nail of her index finger under his chin and pulled down his head until their faces were level. Then she leaned forward, her cheek sliding alongside his. Her warm breath gusted against his ear, and he shivered.

“I’ll give you a box. You can take as many doughnuts as you can fit inside. Take your time. Compose yourself. I’ll see you tonight.”

Gus held his breath until she released him and moved away. She bent to retrieve a box from beneath the counter then gave him a slow smile and turned on her pretty pink heels to walk through the doorway leading to the kitchen.

When she was gone, he let out the breath he’d held and grabbed for the edge of the counter to keep from swaying. Thank God, he’d parked right out front. His dick tented his pants leg.

Swallowing to wet his dry mouth, he slid open the glass and carefully plucked two dozen doughnuts from their trays, not caring what he chose because the sooner he got out of there the better.

When he caught up with Mondo, he’d chew him a new asshole for not warning him what he was walking into.

However, he still felt the warmth of her slap against the back of his hand and—despite his embarrassment—smiled as he exited the shop.

Three days to A PERFECT TRIFECTA! (Contest)

Yes, I’m still out-of-pocket. Happily visiting with family somewhere in Virginia, just outside the capitol. Since I didn’t have any guests lined up for the weekend, I’m going to take a little time to seduce you into loving my Delta Heat series. The third book comes out on Tuesday, A Perfect Trifecta. Today, I’m going to give you a glimpse into the first book, Five Ways ‘Til Sunday. And since you know I love giveaways, post a comment today, and you’ll win a copy of the book! If you already have this one, take a look at my Samhain backlist. There has to be something there to tempt you.

I know some of you love series because you love those glimpses of characters you meet along the way. Marti and Jackson are featured in every story. You meet them for the first time here…

“FIVE WAYS ‘TIL SUNDAY was an awesome read…” ~4.5 Stars, Night Owl Reviews 

“Delightfully quick read, you are so consumed in the story it is difficult to put it down…” ~Sensual Reads

Sometimes a man’s just gotta call for backup…

Marti Kowalski is all wrong for Officer Jackson Teague—he just won’t listen to reason. She didn’t finish high school, runs a bar. Has a tattoo and a blue streak in her hair. Yet he still wants to marry her? She can’t say she’s not tempted, but she’s got a bucket list to complete before she ties the knot.

Not just any bucket—more like a fifty-five-gallon drum of sexual wishes so explicit, there’s no way one man, even Jackson, can fulfill them all.

When Marti turns him down again, Jackson doesn’t give up, he insists on knowing why. That’s when she shows him her list. He takes it, thinks about it—and calls on the only men he can trust: four buddies from his academy graduating class.

Between the five of them, he’s sure they can come up with a plan to check off every item on her list in one wild, wicked weekend. That is, if she has the nerve to follow through—and if he can bear to share her.

Warning: Five men on a mission to break down the resistance of one determined woman. Author suggest readers keep their significant others on speed dial. Not responsible for accidental 911 calls.

Marti Kowalski waved a hand blindly behind her at her desk, swiping the inventory sheets she’d slaved over for two days, and her telephone, to the floor. She didn’t care about the mess—or by the crunch—the loss of her phone. Right this moment, she had Jackson where she wanted him—too far gone with want to worry what damage he might cause.His body was hard; his expression carved to a lustful edge, which promised the kind of sexy interlude she preferred—something spontaneous and surprising.Even after all the months they’d been seeing each other, he managed to surprise her. Like now. He’d pulled her from the door of the ladies’ restroom and goose-stepped her with her arm bent behind her back to the manager’s office, growling menacingly into her ear about the wicked things he’d do to her.

Ma’am, keep quiet and I won’t hurt you.

She’d shivered at the menace in his voice, but he’d rubbed her hip gently to remind her this was just a game.

She had to hand it to him. He knew what made her hot.

Jackson bent her over her desk and shoved up her blouse. His head ducked to pluck a nipple with his lips, and then he bit it.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she gasped, her fingers digging into the rigid Kevlar armor he wore beneath his dark shirt. “You’re on duty. Thought you didn’t cross that line when you’re wearing the uniform.”

His head reared back. His dark eyes flashed. “Shut up, ma’am. You draw any attention, and I might have to get rough.”

So he was still playing the role. She widened her eyes. “Please, sir, I’ll do anything.” She tried to infuse a little angst into her voice, but inside she was laughing uproariously.

A glint of humor in his gaze might have just been the reflection of the overhead light because it quickly extinguished. He bared his teeth. A hand snuck between her thighs. A finger tucked beneath one side of the crotch of her panties and tugged. Elastic stretched and gave. His palm crammed against her bare pussy.

There was no hiding how turned on she was. Not when cream smeared his hand.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” He drew back, gripped her by the waist and gave her a little shake—just to remind her who was in charge here.

Her head bobbed backward. Her heart skittered at the strength in those large, hard hands. He could so easily hurt her, but was careful to give her just the right kind of pain.

Nostrils flaring, he did a good impression of a criminal intent on doing her bodily harm. She guessed he saw enough of them in his line of work to mimic the look.

He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Sure this is the way you wanna play it?”

“Baby, don’t stop now,” Marti moaned.

His grunt accompanied the tightening of his hands on the corners of her hips. He gave no warning and whirled her around, then pushed gently on the back of her neck until she folded over her desk.

Her short leather skirt lifted. Hands gripped her cheeks and squeezed. His mouth pressed against her skin.

She huffed. “What kind of a rapist are you?”

“One with an ass fetish.”

She giggled and reached back to push him away, wriggling on the desk like she wanted to escape. “Stop,” she whispered huskily. “Stop or you’ll be sorry. My boyfriend’s a Memphis PD cop.”

Another grunt was his only response. He straightened, his hard body rubbing against the back of her thighs and ass. An arm clamped over her lower back, holding her down. A zipper scraped. His cock nudged against her folds, thick, insistent—lord, Jackson was completely into this naughty game. He found her entrance and drove deep inside in a single, merciless thrust.

Her body arched off the desk. “Oh shit!”

“Did I hurt you?” he muttered, deeply embedded, but unmoving.

Didn’t he know how to play this game? “You’re gonna pay, you bastard,” she said with an edge of a sob in her voice, but she wiggled her butt to let him know it was okay to proceed.

He withdrew slowly then stroked deep again. This time his hands slammed the wood on either side of her shoulders. “Stick it up higher, slut,” he growled. “My balls are bangin’ the desk.”

Slut? He’d never called her that before. She held back a chuckle, hoping the playacting wouldn’t end too soon. Jackson could only keep his focus up to a certain point. Not that she’d truly mind it when he dropped the act. Knowing she was the reason he couldn’t stay in control gave her deep satisfaction. She rose on tip-toe and tilted up her ass.

His cock crowded through juicy, engorged walls, filling her up like no man ever had before. Maybe he really was that big, or maybe she’d never been so excited. Jackson was the best lover she’d ever had—the most adventurous with the most stamina. That his body was ripped like a bodybuilder’s only added to his dangerous appeal.

She gave a short, throaty groan. “Ohmygod, that feels incredible.”

A knock sounded at the door.

“Go away,” she shouted. To Jackson, she whispered, “Hate to say it, but we might have to rush this a bit.”

Another, harder rap sounded. “Hey, Jackson, you in there?”

Marti relaxed and pushed backward to take more of Jackson’s large cock. It was only his friend, Craig Eason, letting them know he was playing lookout. Not something he hadn’t done before.

“Fucker,” Jackson bit out, banging her ass faster.

Marti snickered then gasped when he swirled inside her to stroke her most sensitive spot. “Think he knows what we’re doing?”

“He will if you keep making that noise.”

“What noise?”

He banged her again. “That bleating noise.”

“You saying I sound like a goat?”

“More like a fluffy little lamb. It’s cute.” A kiss landed on the back of her neck. “He’ll pick the lock if we don’t wrap it up.”

Marti widened her stance and tilted just a little higher, needing more of her pussy smacked by his sharp, forceful thrusts. “That something he learned at the police academy?”

“Nah. Craig wasn’t always a good guy.”

Marti suspected Jackson was cut from the exact same cloth. Sure, he was an attentive boyfriend, kind to kids and dogs, but when he looked at her, sometimes she got the feeling there was something deeper and darker lurking in his past. Or maybe it was just the hardened criminals he dealt with rubbing off on him.

Her pussy swelled, getting hot and so wet Jackson was swimming in her arousal. She aimed a smile over her shoulder. “Baby, I’m ready to rumble whenever you are.”

“Shut up, lady,” he said, his voice rough as gravel again. “Think you can take this?”

“Man,” she moaned, “my boyfriend’s soooo gonna kill you.”

Jackson covered her back, jerking his hips to tunnel deeper. “Does he do it for you? Can he do it as good as I can?”

She faced forward to hide her expression. “His cock’s bigger.”

Laughter shook against her, and she grinned, gripping the far edge of the desk as she tried to hold still under a battery of hard thrusts.

Her inner walls melted all around him. Her pussy pulsed, clasping tightly then weakening, then tightening again. She dragged in deep breaths. “God, Jackson, I’m close.”

He hammered harder. “It’s okay, baby. I’m right there with you.”

Marti pushed up on her arms with her head thrown back as she did indeed bleat a series of soft, staccato moans. Jackson’s own noises were more of a dog-like panting. Something she thought odd to think about at a time like this, but he’d made her self-conscious about her sex sounds.

“Stop thinkin’,” he rasped.

“You pant like a dog,” she groused.

“I like your bleats. If you didn’t do it, I’d know I was doin’ something wrong.”

“Just finish it.” Finish me!

And he did, changing his grip on her hips and shortening his thrusts, sharpening the finish with each precise stroke. Friction burned inside her, fluid gushed to add another juicy aspect to the bumping, bleating, panting cacophony echoing around her tiny office.

A knock sounded again.

“Go away!” they shouted in unison only to hear muffled laughter from the hallway.

The thought of what Craig must be hearing was enough to shoot her over the top. She didn’t even try to hold back her strangled scream as she came.

Jackson grunted once more then gave a hoarse shout. Come pulsed inside her.

“I’m so glad we aren’t using rubbers anymore,” she said.

A hoarse bark of laughter jolted her. As she fell from the high, the sharp edge of the desk cut into the bend of her thigh. She eased her heels to the ground and slumped against the sweaty wood.

A hard hand cupped her shoulder. “Keep lookin’ straight ahead. Don’t move a muscle. I’m gonna back away. You move, you’ll be sorry.”

“I won’t move,” she said with a lazy drawl, “but only ’cause I can’t.”

His cock withdrew. A zipper rasped. The door whooshed open, and she turned in a panic to glance over her shoulder.

Craig stood in the doorframe. His eyebrows shot up.

Jackson shoved his buddy’s shoulder. “You can look, bro, but only ’cause she’ll like it.”

Marti’s gaze locked with Jackson’s as both men stared at her bent over the desk, her skirt flipped up and her bare ass and pussy pointed right their way.

Jackson winked then pulled Craig by the arm, closing the door behind them as they left.

Facing forward again, she waited until her breathing evened and her legs stopped feeling like rubber then slowly pushed up. Once more, Jackson Teague had surprised her.

Damn, but he really did get her.

Guest Blogger: Cris Anson (Contest)

When It Rains, It Pours

You’ve heard the old adage, “When it rains, it pours”, right?

Well, Superstorm Sandy poured rain and wind all over me and the rest of the east coast over the weekend leading up to Halloween.

What does this have to do with writing?

To set the scene, I submitted my twelfth book with Ellora’s Cave to my editor on April 30. Got an acceptance June 15 for Mercy and Redemption with the notation to send a blurb and fill in a cover request form. I got my cover within a month and it was awesome! But edits? I was waiting and waiting and waiting…

Until, you guessed it, Sunday night, October 28, when I opened an email from my editor with “Revisions” in the subject line. This was the night before Sandy ravaged the power grid in eastern Pennsylvania. Not only that, I couldn’t upload, format and post a scary blog about sexual predators by Dr. Matthew Scrivens on my blogsite until the lights came back on late Wednesday, October 31. That’s also the day my electronic calendar reminded me I had committed to writing a guest blog for Delilah that would be due, yes, the next day.

So, it rained writing obligations that Halloween day, and it was a trick to get them all done. S’okay, I’m a procrastinator and I work well under pressure. Um, I used to, anyway.

Based on all of that, Frankenstorm Sandy gave me the subject matter for this blog, which was sent in a timely fashion to Delilah. My own blog got uploaded. The edits for Mercy and Redemption have been submitted and soon, I hope, I’ll have a release date. Meanwhile, here’s the blurb:

Searching in an old cemetery for likely gravestones to illustrate her colonial cookbook, Mercy Howe meets two hunks who are tracing their ancestry and sparks fly. Literally.

When Mercy casually touches Seth and Adam, her vividly erotic vision involving all three of them feels like a memory, not a dream, and awakens long-dormant sexual urges. Their kisses are achingly familiar, and she welcomes each in turn into her body. Then she spends a no-holds-barred weekend with both men in her bed and discovers an intimacy—and a past—that blows her mind.

As memories resurface from three hundred years ago, Mercy will have to choose whether to relive their experiences from the past or forge a new bond with either Seth or Adam. Or both.

Mercy and Redemption is a present-day sequel to Punishment and Mercy, which was set in 1694 Massachusetts. To one commenter chosen by Delilah at random, I’ll award a prize of a download to Punishment and Mercy to whet your appetite for the upcoming release.

About Cris Anson:

I write erotic romance because I firmly believe that life doesn’t stop at the bedroom door. I had a deeply romantic relationship with my husband of 22 years, and I want to celebrate his memory in my writing. After he died, it took me a long time to come out of my grief, but parts of him — his honor, courage, optimism, tenacity, and lust for life — live on in all my heroes. They’re all alpha men, as well.

And I write erotic romance because I feel you’re never too old to give or receive love. Many of my stories have older heroines who dazzle younger men (one of them was Adding Heat, a novella for the Cougar Challenge series), and I wouldn’t mind being such a heroine in real life. But that’s another story…

You can find more information about me here:

Website www.crisanson.com

Blog www.crisansonspassions.blogspot.com 

Author page at Ellora’s Cave http://www.jasminejade.com/m-14-cris-anson.aspx

Author page at Amazon http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0036LJT7A