Karilyn Bentley's Blog, page 29
June 17, 2014
@MichelleMiles presents #TuesdayTeaser
Happy Tuesday! Today, we're going to tease you, baby, with some super sexy snippets from some of the Princesses. AND I have freshly delivered print copies of ONLY FOR A KNIGHT, book two in the Realm of Honor series, so leave a comment and you can win a signed copy! My tease for that is last, but in the meantime, here are some perfectly sexy snippets! Happy reading!
A Scandal to Remember by Elizabeth Essex
Releases August 26, 2014; Pre-Order in print or eBook at Amazon
H.M.S. Tenacious, Portsmouth Harbor, England
November, 1815
Lieutenant Charles Dance was old enough and smart enough to know that some ideas were bad, right from the start. Some choices were no choice at all, especially when fueled by desperation. And some things were enough to drive a man to drink.
Except that his captain was already drunk, reeling about his cabin reeking of gin at ten o’clock in the morning. And they hadn’t even left Portsmouth dock.
“Who in the hell are you?”
“Lieutenant Dance, reporting for duty, sir.”
The old sot of a captain blinked his rheumy eyes at Dance, and stepped curiously sideways, as if they were in high seas, and the deck were rising up to meet his foot. He squinted upward to try and focus on Dance’s rather tall person. “What are you doin’ here, man?”
Dance ducked his head to step forward under the beams overhead. He never had fit in a damn frigate. “I’ve been assigned to Tenacious, Captain. I’ve come to be your first lieutenant, sir.” Dance raised his voice slightly, and enunciated his words, in case the man was deaf as well as drunker than a gin whore.
“Damn your eyes. Stand still.”
Not deaf then, but most assuredly a grizzled, grumpy old drunk who showed no signs of recognition, or cognizance, much less sobriety.
Dance dug in his old blue uniform coat to produce his written orders, handed to him only that morning. The orders he had been desperate to accept, because he knew damn well he was unlikely to get another posting that seemed such an easy berth.
He had been eight months out of employment, put ashore on half-pay and close rations like most of the fleet. Eight months of watching his chances of getting a better command dwindle to nothing, while better men—men with influence and connections—were deprived of their profession as well.
Now that the navy had won the bloody war, and saved Britain from sure invasion, they were all redundant—a drain on a nation ready to forget the past and be pleased with the future. The trouble was, of course, that after so many years of war, Dance and men like him were unfit for any other gainful profession. Unfit for any other company but their own.
Which might explain why his captain was drunk and alone.
“My orders are to join you for this voyage to the South Seas, sir. An expedition of the Royal Society, is it not? Slated to leave as soon as the ship has finished being made ready?”
Dance had jumped to accept his old friend Will Jellicoe’s suggestion that he take the commission aboard Tenacious. Such a lengthy expedition looked to provide suitable, easy employment for several years, even without the added bonus of a monetary prize from the Duke of Fenmore for safeguarding the expedition of naturalists under the duke’s liberal patronage. One didn’t turn down a patron like the Duke of Fenmore, even if it meant signing on with a captain who looked as if he ought to have been put to bed with a cannonball years ago.
Dragon Lover by Karilyn Bentley
Available at Amazon
Fafnir felt one eye-ridge rise. Did she think to rummage around in his mind, to extract the memory of her presence? He’d like to see her try.
But he’d rather speak a promise. What did I see?
A small brush against his mind, so slight as to be almost imperceptible. Almost. He slammed mental barriers in place, watching her brow furrow as she tried to remove his memory of her. She probably could get away with reading others’ minds, but not his.
“You saw me standing here.” The High Priestess’s voice jarred him back into the moment.
That’s not all I saw.
“Yes, it is. Now, are you going to give me that ride back to the Temple or not?”
Having problems transporting?
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
Fafnir chuckled. A ride then. He knelt, offering her his back.
Her hand touched his shoulder as some of her bristle relaxed. “Thank you.” She climbed to his back and sat, her weight a pleasant feeling against his scales.
He straightened, standing a bit taller, knowing she sat on his back, knowing she trusted him. Him. The Draconi liar, the male too afraid of his own guilt to admit his identity. But she didn’t know that, did she? No, she felt pity toward him, pity for his years of captivity, his inability to change into human form, but no outright disgust. As annoying as pity might be, he could live with it. Her disgust, though, would shatter his heart into shards of shame.
Bloody effing sap.
Temporarily Employed by Vicki Batman
Coming Soon from The Wild Rose Press
“Yuck.”
Pretty much covered the whole freakin’ day.
A blinding red-white, red-white strobe, reflected in my brand new Wrangler’s rearview mirror, seized my attention. The police. I tossed my hands skyward, ready to surrender. I shouldn’t have been too surprised. Like I'd commented this a.m. to my roommate, Jenny, “Today, anything’s possible.”
My Bad Day checklist included:
- Crappy job interview, one which might have provided desperately needed income.
- Wore gut-busting panty hose on a hot day which had now worked past my waist and strangled my diaphragm.
- A barely blowing air conditioner indicated something had malfunctioned in my new, fun car.
I stole another glance in the mirror, and with great reluctance, flipped the right turn indicator. My vehicle coasted to a stop on the shoulder of Boston Avenue in my hometown of Sommerville, a nice suburb located between two large cities. Four lanes of cars and trucks zipped by as I sat there where every single one of my family, friends, friends’ friends, and their friends—including Rat Fink Suzanne—would see a police vehicle positioned right behind mine. Gleefully, drivers would chant the “Ha-ha, got you, not me” ditty.
How embarrassing.
After killing the engine, I flopped back in the seat. Shooting the morons the finger was an idea. Nah. I'm too exhausted to care.
A litany of: "No, not hiring." "Just filled the position." "You're over qualified." "You're under qualified…" tornadoed through my head. Coupled with the intense job search through various outlets like the internet and completing numerous online employment applications, no wonder my body had been depleted of all life force.
Not even a breeze blew to take the edge off the unbearable summertime heat. Tangled wild trees and dry scrubby bushes banked the roadside. The grass had taken on a scorched look. Rolling down the driver’s window, I surveyed my surroundings. Nothing great. Nothing new.
I stole a glance in the side mirror at the policeman who strode purposefully along the shoulder. The gravel crunched under his boots. He looked huge, probably because his uniform, which appeared to be bulked with a bullet-proof vest, made him resemble a buffed-up superhero in size. Exceedingly intimidating.
Sigh. When things went wrong, they were really wrong.
As I viewed him drawing closer, my heart pounded harder. Awkward circumstances usually brought out the worst in me like shyness, ineptness, and uh...more shyness, hang-ups I carried from childhood. Back in the dark ages, I’d deliberately steered clear of embarrassing situations by developing the best self-protection— avoidance. Over time, I’d adapted to embarrassment, but every now and then, some unusual situation would spring out, and like a stealthy cat, those old prickly feelings crept back inside me.
The policeman stopped by the driver’s side, his head slanted to better peer inside.
Up close and exceptionally personal, I saw his sunglasses with dark lenses which shielded his eyes.
“Ma’am, I’m Officer Wellborn. I need to see your driver's license and proof of insurance—”
Something unknown possessed me. I bulldozed in and snapped in an overly loud voice, “What do you want? Why did you pull me over?”
His body stiffened like a package of frozen chocolate chip cookie dough.
Witness Protection by Barb Han
Available December 2014 from Harlequin Intrigue
A clink against the back door of the bakery sounded again. Sadie Brooks lost her grip on the twenty-five pound sack of flour she’d held. It struck the floor and a mushroom-shaped cloud of white powder formed over the bag’s lip.
Creek Bend, Texas was a far cry from Chicago, she reminded herself. No one from her past knew where she was. No one could hurt her. No one cared. And she was no longer Laura Kaye.
Cabin Fever by Jillian Burns
Available September 2014 from Harlequin Blaze
Forget about it! He was on a cruise ship with round the clock entertainment. When would he ever get this kind of chance again? Joe made his way to the casino, found a stool in front of a one-armed bandit and ordered a couple of more drinks while he fed it quarters.
Bleary-eyed and out of coins, he checked his cell. 1:37. He’d better head to bed. Feeling just buzzed enough to take the edge off his sexual frustrations, he stood and made his way to the elevator. But once he got in the elevator and punched his old deck number he remembered he’d switched rooms with the diva and—he couldn’t remember what his new room number was. If he hadn’t been so distracted by sexy Carly and her sweet sexy curves and those ice-blue eyes…
He shook his head to clear it and remembered. Forty-seven eighty-two. He punched the button for the fourth deck and when the elevator let him out he walked down the long hall suddenly exhausted and dizzy. Perhaps he had a bit of mal de mer, too.
Ahh, here was forty-eight seventy-two. The key card clicked and the door opened with ease. He let out a relieved breath he wouldn’t have to call someone for help and look like an idiot.
The room was pitch-dark, but he didn’t want to bother to switch on the big overhead light. Man, he was more tired than he’d realized. He flipped on the tiny light in the closet.
The cabin didn’t have a balcony as he’d expected Piper’s would have, but he didn’t care. The king-size bed awaited. He shucked his jeans, crawled onto the soft mattress, and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Still, even in his dreams he couldn’t get Carly out of his mind. Her spicy scent filled his senses and he felt her soft breasts pushing against his back. In his dream he turned over and wrapped his arms around her hot body. It seemed so real that he could’ve sworn he could feel the silky material of her nightgown catch on the calluses of his palms. He nuzzled into a sweetly soft neck, pushed his rigid erection against her stomach and heard her moan.
He stilled. Forced his heavy lids to open. And looked right into Carly’s wide-open eyes.
And then she screamed.
Hell of a Week by Phyllis Middleton
J.C. spun around to face her and whispered. “Play along if you want to stay safe”
All she could do was nod. What the hell was she playing along with? Rape?
J.C. wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, holding her tight against him. His warmth reminded her of how chilly the night air had become. His lips were on hers in a flash. At first, she wanted to push him away, but his words ‘play along’ kept her in place. The fear fluttered away when heat of a different kind that rose within her. His tongue urged her to open her mouth to him. She did, helpless to fight off the very thing she’s wanted from him for days.
His tongue stroked hers into play. This was no game. He wanted her and the moan of her surrender escaped only for him to hear. His hand moved down and cupped a buttock, pulling her into him. She felt his need for her against her abdomen. That simple move made her ready to let him take her, here and now, and she arched further to him. He suddenly pulled away. The kiss and his touch were gone.
What the hell?
“Satisfied?” J.C. said.
Max was still muddled from the kiss. No, I want more. But I knew he was speaking the biker.
“I don’t believe that act for one minute. “ Butch answered.
“It’s true.” I said, not having the slightest idea what possessed her to say that.
“Shut up, bitch. This is between brothers.”
Flesh zapped by my face so fast it wasn't until after J.C.’s fist landed on Butch’s face that I realized what had happened. Butch reeled back.
“That’s for calling her a bitch and I’m able to give you another one if you and your buddy don’t haul ass back to camp.”
“Come on, Butch.” Skip said.
Butch rubbed his cheek tenderly. “This ain't over.”
J.C nodded back at him, “No doubt.”
Max watched them walk back in the direction she needed to go and she wasn't inclined to hurry after them. “They must have been watching me.”
“We've all been watching you. What got into you that made you think you are safe alone anytime this week? I've had to keep an eye on you because assholes like Butch are out to earn patches. Saving your ass is playing hell with my work,” he quipped.
She became the target of his temper and she was in no mood to hear it. “Well, excuse me! Don’t let my safety and welfare keep you from your precious work. I absolve you from those duties, J.C., whatever your name is. Oh wait, maybe you don’t know what absolve means.”
“I’m not stupid. I know exactly what it means and unfortunately for me, you’re Sheriff is holding on to the club’s promise that I won’t let harm come to any of his people by one of mine. Let me say you've become the biggest pain in the ass I've had to deal with yet!”
“And none of it is my fault. Keep your boys in check, Mister!” she said and turned to leave. She didn't bother to look back to see if he was watching. She wanted to, but didn't. She didn't want to encourage him, but she really did appreciate him saving her ass.
When she got back to the house, Bernie looked up from the table where she’d been working on crossword puzzles. “Where have been?”
“I got lost.” Boy, did she ever.
Only For A Knight by Michelle Miles
Available at Amazon
“You are truly delightful, your highness,” Derron said.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” Irritation clawed through her. Mostly because he didn’t take her in his arms and kiss her thoroughly. As though she were the last Fae woman worth kissing.
“Why not? Isn’t that your rightful title?”
“It is, but it’s unnecessary for you to continue to use ‘your highness’.”
“You don’t seem to mind when the others call you that.” Before she could answer, he asked, “Would you prefer ‘princess’, then?”
“No.” She pouted, clenching her jaw tight and trying not to pucker her lips. Still, she was incensed. And he still held her so close she could literally feel his pulsing heart. Or maybe that was her imagination.
“‘Your worship’?”
Now he was teasing her. She flushed to the tips of her pointed ears, her face burning hot.
“Not that either, I gather. How about ‘your grace’? I suppose I could bend the rules of address this once and call you that. Would that do?”
“No.” She punched him in the ribs to get away but he still held fast. “Let me go.”
He stopped walking so suddenly she stumbled again. This time he turned to her, grasped her arms and pulled her close. So close, her hands rested on his chest and she knew for certain she could feel his heart pounding through his tunic. Their eyes locked, his searching hers. Heat flooded her. Something she’d not known…well, ever. And especially for Derron.
It had been much too long since he’d looked at her like that. Ages, in fact. When he had tried to court her and all she wanted to do was run away from him. She’d wanted nothing to do with him. She had been such a fool to reject him. And why had she? She thought she hadn’t been in love with him. How wrong she was.
“Elyne, then. How about I call you Elyne?”
She liked the way her name sounded on his tongue. Oh, he’d said it before. But usually with princess attached to it. Rarely her name. And never looking at her like that.
A Scandal to Remember by Elizabeth EssexReleases August 26, 2014; Pre-Order in print or eBook at Amazon
H.M.S. Tenacious, Portsmouth Harbor, England
November, 1815
Lieutenant Charles Dance was old enough and smart enough to know that some ideas were bad, right from the start. Some choices were no choice at all, especially when fueled by desperation. And some things were enough to drive a man to drink.
Except that his captain was already drunk, reeling about his cabin reeking of gin at ten o’clock in the morning. And they hadn’t even left Portsmouth dock.
“Who in the hell are you?”
“Lieutenant Dance, reporting for duty, sir.”
The old sot of a captain blinked his rheumy eyes at Dance, and stepped curiously sideways, as if they were in high seas, and the deck were rising up to meet his foot. He squinted upward to try and focus on Dance’s rather tall person. “What are you doin’ here, man?”
Dance ducked his head to step forward under the beams overhead. He never had fit in a damn frigate. “I’ve been assigned to Tenacious, Captain. I’ve come to be your first lieutenant, sir.” Dance raised his voice slightly, and enunciated his words, in case the man was deaf as well as drunker than a gin whore.
“Damn your eyes. Stand still.”
Not deaf then, but most assuredly a grizzled, grumpy old drunk who showed no signs of recognition, or cognizance, much less sobriety.
Dance dug in his old blue uniform coat to produce his written orders, handed to him only that morning. The orders he had been desperate to accept, because he knew damn well he was unlikely to get another posting that seemed such an easy berth.
He had been eight months out of employment, put ashore on half-pay and close rations like most of the fleet. Eight months of watching his chances of getting a better command dwindle to nothing, while better men—men with influence and connections—were deprived of their profession as well.
Now that the navy had won the bloody war, and saved Britain from sure invasion, they were all redundant—a drain on a nation ready to forget the past and be pleased with the future. The trouble was, of course, that after so many years of war, Dance and men like him were unfit for any other gainful profession. Unfit for any other company but their own.
Which might explain why his captain was drunk and alone.
“My orders are to join you for this voyage to the South Seas, sir. An expedition of the Royal Society, is it not? Slated to leave as soon as the ship has finished being made ready?”
Dance had jumped to accept his old friend Will Jellicoe’s suggestion that he take the commission aboard Tenacious. Such a lengthy expedition looked to provide suitable, easy employment for several years, even without the added bonus of a monetary prize from the Duke of Fenmore for safeguarding the expedition of naturalists under the duke’s liberal patronage. One didn’t turn down a patron like the Duke of Fenmore, even if it meant signing on with a captain who looked as if he ought to have been put to bed with a cannonball years ago.
Dragon Lover by Karilyn Bentley
Available at Amazon
Fafnir felt one eye-ridge rise. Did she think to rummage around in his mind, to extract the memory of her presence? He’d like to see her try. But he’d rather speak a promise. What did I see?
A small brush against his mind, so slight as to be almost imperceptible. Almost. He slammed mental barriers in place, watching her brow furrow as she tried to remove his memory of her. She probably could get away with reading others’ minds, but not his.
“You saw me standing here.” The High Priestess’s voice jarred him back into the moment.
That’s not all I saw.
“Yes, it is. Now, are you going to give me that ride back to the Temple or not?”
Having problems transporting?
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
Fafnir chuckled. A ride then. He knelt, offering her his back.
Her hand touched his shoulder as some of her bristle relaxed. “Thank you.” She climbed to his back and sat, her weight a pleasant feeling against his scales.
He straightened, standing a bit taller, knowing she sat on his back, knowing she trusted him. Him. The Draconi liar, the male too afraid of his own guilt to admit his identity. But she didn’t know that, did she? No, she felt pity toward him, pity for his years of captivity, his inability to change into human form, but no outright disgust. As annoying as pity might be, he could live with it. Her disgust, though, would shatter his heart into shards of shame.
Bloody effing sap.
Temporarily Employed by Vicki BatmanComing Soon from The Wild Rose Press
“Yuck.”
Pretty much covered the whole freakin’ day.
A blinding red-white, red-white strobe, reflected in my brand new Wrangler’s rearview mirror, seized my attention. The police. I tossed my hands skyward, ready to surrender. I shouldn’t have been too surprised. Like I'd commented this a.m. to my roommate, Jenny, “Today, anything’s possible.”
My Bad Day checklist included:
- Crappy job interview, one which might have provided desperately needed income.
- Wore gut-busting panty hose on a hot day which had now worked past my waist and strangled my diaphragm.
- A barely blowing air conditioner indicated something had malfunctioned in my new, fun car.
I stole another glance in the mirror, and with great reluctance, flipped the right turn indicator. My vehicle coasted to a stop on the shoulder of Boston Avenue in my hometown of Sommerville, a nice suburb located between two large cities. Four lanes of cars and trucks zipped by as I sat there where every single one of my family, friends, friends’ friends, and their friends—including Rat Fink Suzanne—would see a police vehicle positioned right behind mine. Gleefully, drivers would chant the “Ha-ha, got you, not me” ditty.
How embarrassing.
After killing the engine, I flopped back in the seat. Shooting the morons the finger was an idea. Nah. I'm too exhausted to care.
A litany of: "No, not hiring." "Just filled the position." "You're over qualified." "You're under qualified…" tornadoed through my head. Coupled with the intense job search through various outlets like the internet and completing numerous online employment applications, no wonder my body had been depleted of all life force.
Not even a breeze blew to take the edge off the unbearable summertime heat. Tangled wild trees and dry scrubby bushes banked the roadside. The grass had taken on a scorched look. Rolling down the driver’s window, I surveyed my surroundings. Nothing great. Nothing new.
I stole a glance in the side mirror at the policeman who strode purposefully along the shoulder. The gravel crunched under his boots. He looked huge, probably because his uniform, which appeared to be bulked with a bullet-proof vest, made him resemble a buffed-up superhero in size. Exceedingly intimidating.
Sigh. When things went wrong, they were really wrong.
As I viewed him drawing closer, my heart pounded harder. Awkward circumstances usually brought out the worst in me like shyness, ineptness, and uh...more shyness, hang-ups I carried from childhood. Back in the dark ages, I’d deliberately steered clear of embarrassing situations by developing the best self-protection— avoidance. Over time, I’d adapted to embarrassment, but every now and then, some unusual situation would spring out, and like a stealthy cat, those old prickly feelings crept back inside me.
The policeman stopped by the driver’s side, his head slanted to better peer inside.
Up close and exceptionally personal, I saw his sunglasses with dark lenses which shielded his eyes.
“Ma’am, I’m Officer Wellborn. I need to see your driver's license and proof of insurance—”
Something unknown possessed me. I bulldozed in and snapped in an overly loud voice, “What do you want? Why did you pull me over?”
His body stiffened like a package of frozen chocolate chip cookie dough.
Witness Protection by Barb Han
Available December 2014 from Harlequin Intrigue
A clink against the back door of the bakery sounded again. Sadie Brooks lost her grip on the twenty-five pound sack of flour she’d held. It struck the floor and a mushroom-shaped cloud of white powder formed over the bag’s lip.
Creek Bend, Texas was a far cry from Chicago, she reminded herself. No one from her past knew where she was. No one could hurt her. No one cared. And she was no longer Laura Kaye.
Cabin Fever by Jillian BurnsAvailable September 2014 from Harlequin Blaze
Forget about it! He was on a cruise ship with round the clock entertainment. When would he ever get this kind of chance again? Joe made his way to the casino, found a stool in front of a one-armed bandit and ordered a couple of more drinks while he fed it quarters.
Bleary-eyed and out of coins, he checked his cell. 1:37. He’d better head to bed. Feeling just buzzed enough to take the edge off his sexual frustrations, he stood and made his way to the elevator. But once he got in the elevator and punched his old deck number he remembered he’d switched rooms with the diva and—he couldn’t remember what his new room number was. If he hadn’t been so distracted by sexy Carly and her sweet sexy curves and those ice-blue eyes…
He shook his head to clear it and remembered. Forty-seven eighty-two. He punched the button for the fourth deck and when the elevator let him out he walked down the long hall suddenly exhausted and dizzy. Perhaps he had a bit of mal de mer, too.
Ahh, here was forty-eight seventy-two. The key card clicked and the door opened with ease. He let out a relieved breath he wouldn’t have to call someone for help and look like an idiot.
The room was pitch-dark, but he didn’t want to bother to switch on the big overhead light. Man, he was more tired than he’d realized. He flipped on the tiny light in the closet.
The cabin didn’t have a balcony as he’d expected Piper’s would have, but he didn’t care. The king-size bed awaited. He shucked his jeans, crawled onto the soft mattress, and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Still, even in his dreams he couldn’t get Carly out of his mind. Her spicy scent filled his senses and he felt her soft breasts pushing against his back. In his dream he turned over and wrapped his arms around her hot body. It seemed so real that he could’ve sworn he could feel the silky material of her nightgown catch on the calluses of his palms. He nuzzled into a sweetly soft neck, pushed his rigid erection against her stomach and heard her moan.
He stilled. Forced his heavy lids to open. And looked right into Carly’s wide-open eyes.
And then she screamed.
Hell of a Week by Phyllis Middleton
J.C. spun around to face her and whispered. “Play along if you want to stay safe”
All she could do was nod. What the hell was she playing along with? Rape?
J.C. wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, holding her tight against him. His warmth reminded her of how chilly the night air had become. His lips were on hers in a flash. At first, she wanted to push him away, but his words ‘play along’ kept her in place. The fear fluttered away when heat of a different kind that rose within her. His tongue urged her to open her mouth to him. She did, helpless to fight off the very thing she’s wanted from him for days.
His tongue stroked hers into play. This was no game. He wanted her and the moan of her surrender escaped only for him to hear. His hand moved down and cupped a buttock, pulling her into him. She felt his need for her against her abdomen. That simple move made her ready to let him take her, here and now, and she arched further to him. He suddenly pulled away. The kiss and his touch were gone.
What the hell?
“Satisfied?” J.C. said.
Max was still muddled from the kiss. No, I want more. But I knew he was speaking the biker.
“I don’t believe that act for one minute. “ Butch answered.
“It’s true.” I said, not having the slightest idea what possessed her to say that.
“Shut up, bitch. This is between brothers.”
Flesh zapped by my face so fast it wasn't until after J.C.’s fist landed on Butch’s face that I realized what had happened. Butch reeled back.
“That’s for calling her a bitch and I’m able to give you another one if you and your buddy don’t haul ass back to camp.”
“Come on, Butch.” Skip said.
Butch rubbed his cheek tenderly. “This ain't over.”
J.C nodded back at him, “No doubt.”
Max watched them walk back in the direction she needed to go and she wasn't inclined to hurry after them. “They must have been watching me.”
“We've all been watching you. What got into you that made you think you are safe alone anytime this week? I've had to keep an eye on you because assholes like Butch are out to earn patches. Saving your ass is playing hell with my work,” he quipped.
She became the target of his temper and she was in no mood to hear it. “Well, excuse me! Don’t let my safety and welfare keep you from your precious work. I absolve you from those duties, J.C., whatever your name is. Oh wait, maybe you don’t know what absolve means.”
“I’m not stupid. I know exactly what it means and unfortunately for me, you’re Sheriff is holding on to the club’s promise that I won’t let harm come to any of his people by one of mine. Let me say you've become the biggest pain in the ass I've had to deal with yet!”
“And none of it is my fault. Keep your boys in check, Mister!” she said and turned to leave. She didn't bother to look back to see if he was watching. She wanted to, but didn't. She didn't want to encourage him, but she really did appreciate him saving her ass.
When she got back to the house, Bernie looked up from the table where she’d been working on crossword puzzles. “Where have been?”
“I got lost.” Boy, did she ever.
Only For A Knight by Michelle MilesAvailable at Amazon
“You are truly delightful, your highness,” Derron said.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” Irritation clawed through her. Mostly because he didn’t take her in his arms and kiss her thoroughly. As though she were the last Fae woman worth kissing.
“Why not? Isn’t that your rightful title?”
“It is, but it’s unnecessary for you to continue to use ‘your highness’.”
“You don’t seem to mind when the others call you that.” Before she could answer, he asked, “Would you prefer ‘princess’, then?”
“No.” She pouted, clenching her jaw tight and trying not to pucker her lips. Still, she was incensed. And he still held her so close she could literally feel his pulsing heart. Or maybe that was her imagination.
“‘Your worship’?”
Now he was teasing her. She flushed to the tips of her pointed ears, her face burning hot.
“Not that either, I gather. How about ‘your grace’? I suppose I could bend the rules of address this once and call you that. Would that do?”
“No.” She punched him in the ribs to get away but he still held fast. “Let me go.”
He stopped walking so suddenly she stumbled again. This time he turned to her, grasped her arms and pulled her close. So close, her hands rested on his chest and she knew for certain she could feel his heart pounding through his tunic. Their eyes locked, his searching hers. Heat flooded her. Something she’d not known…well, ever. And especially for Derron.
It had been much too long since he’d looked at her like that. Ages, in fact. When he had tried to court her and all she wanted to do was run away from him. She’d wanted nothing to do with him. She had been such a fool to reject him. And why had she? She thought she hadn’t been in love with him. How wrong she was.
“Elyne, then. How about I call you Elyne?”
She liked the way her name sounded on his tongue. Oh, he’d said it before. But usually with princess attached to it. Rarely her name. And never looking at her like that.
June 9, 2014
Coverpalooza! by Kathy Ivan
IF A PICTURE PAINTS A THOUSAND WORDS, THESE COVERS ARE WORTH MILLIONS!
Instead of having a long drawn out post, today I thought I'd give a little visual inspiration instead. Below are some covers from releases by Plotting Princesses. To be as fair as possible, I've only posted one cover for each Princess.
Feel free to check out not only the book highlighted below, but all of the books available by the lovely and talented Plotting Princesses.
So, in no particular order, here you go:
And there you have it, some absolutely stunning covers available now from the Plotting Princesses. Are you intrigued yet? Don't you want to know more about what's behind each of the covers? Well, what are you waiting for -- click on over to your favorite e-retailer and check 'em out.
Instead of having a long drawn out post, today I thought I'd give a little visual inspiration instead. Below are some covers from releases by Plotting Princesses. To be as fair as possible, I've only posted one cover for each Princess.
Feel free to check out not only the book highlighted below, but all of the books available by the lovely and talented Plotting Princesses.
So, in no particular order, here you go:
And there you have it, some absolutely stunning covers available now from the Plotting Princesses. Are you intrigued yet? Don't you want to know more about what's behind each of the covers? Well, what are you waiting for -- click on over to your favorite e-retailer and check 'em out.
June 4, 2014
Plotter or Pantser or Hybrid, Oh My! by Kathy Ivan
I posted this on another blog that I write for and they found it interesting, so I thought I'd share it with you wonderful people who read the Princesses blog. Plus I wanted to show off the cool header that I've got for my books. (Isn't it cool?)
Ever wonder what style of writer you are? As a reader, have you asked yourself, gee, I wonder where they came up with that idea? Everybody seems to have their own technique or ritual or personal voodoo they go through before they start a new book. Here are a few.
PLOTTER: A writer who needs to know from beginning to end exactly what is going to happen in the story. This seems to be especially important when you're writing mysteries or suspense. After all, you need to know who the hero and heroine are as well as the villain. You need to have a firm grasp on what needs to happen each step of the way, where to lay the foundation of the story, exactly where to feather in all the red herrings to keep the reader on their toes. And you especially need to know exactly when, where, why and how the "big black moment" takes place, because that's where you wrap up everything with a nice big bow and can finally write the end. Plotters have been known to write up complete character descriptions for each person in the book, detailed maps of the city/town/village where they story takes place. Any and all details that are important to their story all get written down. We may even write a long synopsis of the entire story, pages and pages of outline, before the first word ever appears on the actual manuscript page.
PANTSER: A pantser is a writer who is the complete opposite of a plotter in every way. A pantser doesn't write down an outline or a synopsis before they start. They basically don't have a clue where the story is going to go. Instead, they sit down at their keyboard (or pull out their writing pad) and away they go. They fly by the seat of their pants—hence the name pantser. A kernel of an idea will begin the pantser writer on their trek, and like the reader, they don't know where the story will take them until they've written it. It can make for a bumpy but oh-so-worth-it ride.
HYBRID: A hybrid writer is generally a combination of the two types listed above. They need to know the basics or bones of the story and the storyline before they start. They know the main characters; the hero, heroine, and the villain and probably know where they need to end up. With a much smaller amount of foreknowledge, the hybrid writer weaves the basic structure they've constructed from a few known facts and begins their travels along the path to a completed story, very similar to the pantser writer. Some structure goes a long way to keeping the hybrid write on track, too.
I'll admit, I'm a hybrid writer. Especially with my romantic suspense, I find it imperative that I know a fair amount about my main characters, and where I want their journey to take them. I have a general outline of the very beginning of the action, a few key points that need to happen, and what the big climax of the mystery/suspense/resolution is. The rest is written wherever the characters lead. And believe me they can lead to some really unexpected places. J
So, what type of writer are you – a plotter, a pantser or a hybrid? Or do you have a completely different style that you use. I'd love to hear how you get from the beginning to the end.
CONNOR'S GAMBLE BUY LINKS:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1d1MZzxiTunes: http://bit.ly/1dUdwdeB & : http://bit.ly/1p92tUpKobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/connor-s-gamblePrint: https://www.createspace.com/4717918
June 3, 2014
Vacation - All I Ever Wanted
So it’s June. School is out or very nearly out for many kids, and it’s time to start thinking about getting away. We leave very soon for Colorado where we will visit family and go up to our property and talk to the builder we’ve chosen. While we’re there, we’ll do some hiking, fishing and resting. I’m emphasizing that last point because frankly I’m needing the resting part. 
To me there are two types of vacations. The whirlwind where you’re trying to see and visit everything and the one where you’re just resting. I have to say that the one we’re about to embark on will be a combination of both. There will be some downtime, but there is also the whirlwind where we will visit three different family members in three different cities. There would have been a fourth, but I nixed that one and said sorry. No time. My favorite vacations are the ones where you rent a house on the beach, and all you do is go down the steps to the ocean get wet and then go back in the house or sit on the veranda and stare at the ocean. You can do this with the mountains as well, but most of the time we’re out hiking or doing something in the mountains.
So tell me, what kind of vacation are you planning on taking this year? Will it be a whirlwind where you’re trying to see everything in the area you’re traveling to or will it be a restful, stare out at the ocean or the mountains and just rest? Tell me where you’re going and what you’re doing this summer.Need a summer read? My new series, Lipstick and Lead kicks off with the novella, Desperate. Come get to know the McKenzie sisters. Available at all retailers. Amazon Desperate.
May 29, 2014
.@PlottingPrince1 - 18 Things You Want to know about: #author Patricia Kiyono #MFRWorg #
Plotting Princesses : 18 things you want to know about...Welcome, Patricia Kiyono to the Plotting Princesses where we like to poke our guests and get their gory details.
Here's a bit about her: Patricia and her husband live in SW lower Michigan, near their five children and nine grandchildren. She teaches college students part time and loves scrapbooking, sewing, and making music.
Favorite movie: Memoirs of a Geisha
Favorite book: Gone With the Wind
Last book read: Bluebonnets for Ellie by Sandra Nachtlinger
Favorite color: Blue Stilettos or flipflops: Sneakers!
Coffee or tea: Both!
Ebook or paperback: ebook
Pencil or pen: pencil
Favorite song: Cherish
Streak or not: Not
Favorite dessert: chocolate
Champagne or gin: Allergic to both
Paranormal or Historical: Historical
Ginger or Mary Ann: Mary Ann
Favorite TV show: Who Do You Think You Are?
Hot or cold: Hot
POV: Rosy
I'd die if I don't have: chocolate
Patricia has a new book, Searching for Lady Luck. Here's a bit about it:
Charlie needs a little luck, and it seems every time a pretty lady named Rose appears, good things happen…
“She must be your Lady Luck,” said Connor.
“My what?”
“Lady Luck. Remember when Uncle Phineas would go to Atlantic City? He’d talk about the women in the casinos. If someone hit it big while one of them happened to be next to him, that lady would
be his Lady Luck and he’d keep her by his side the rest of the night.”
Find Patricia at: website email
Find Searching for Lady Luck at: Amazon
May 21, 2014
.@PhyllisMiddleton - Oh what a feeling....
The song "What a Feeling" from the movie Flashdance sums up my feelings and inspiration in just several of the lines.
"What a feeling, being's believin' I can have it all." That line got me inspired to write, to edit, to cut, to add and change some of the characters. In essence, making it worthy ( in my mind anyway), to send it out. Many us realize this is a very scary time. The story you spent night after night up with it, cried over and prayed over it, is in the hand of someone else. They have the ultimate chore of telling you what they thought of it.
Every writer out there who dreams of seeing their stories in print ( or digital) know the let down in your heart when you hear back from them.
"We like the story, but..." or You're a good writer, but...." and the most common line I heard..." We like the story, but it just doesn't fit our line."
I knew I should have stuck more sex in there!
After some discouragement set in, I picked up another line from the lyrics and decided to make it my theme and push me to move forward.
"Take your passion and make it happen!"
So I did. I wrote on other stories and let my baby sit for a while. Thanks to some very savvy DARA authors who blazed the trail, I woke up to Indie publishing. So I pulled my baby down, did some serious changes of some characters and thus the sex did finally fit in. I was ready. I was going to Indie Publish my book.
I already had a preliminary cover prepared. Still I wanted to shop it around one last time. I am so very glad I did!
On May 1, 2014, after nine years trying to get this book published, Senior Editor of Soul Mate Publishing offered a contract to publish my NINE LIVES, TWO DOWN. Contracts are signed and I now await further from her. SO EXCITING!!!
I wonder what their version of my cover will be??? The first book of yours will always hold a special place in the authors heart. I wanted Nine Lives, Two Down to be that first book. Now, I can kick my heels up and celebrate. But I have stories to write!
Oh and my new song? "HAPPY" by Pharrell Williams.
"What a feeling, being's believin' I can have it all." That line got me inspired to write, to edit, to cut, to add and change some of the characters. In essence, making it worthy ( in my mind anyway), to send it out. Many us realize this is a very scary time. The story you spent night after night up with it, cried over and prayed over it, is in the hand of someone else. They have the ultimate chore of telling you what they thought of it.
Every writer out there who dreams of seeing their stories in print ( or digital) know the let down in your heart when you hear back from them.
"We like the story, but..." or You're a good writer, but...." and the most common line I heard..." We like the story, but it just doesn't fit our line."
I knew I should have stuck more sex in there!
After some discouragement set in, I picked up another line from the lyrics and decided to make it my theme and push me to move forward.
"Take your passion and make it happen!"
So I did. I wrote on other stories and let my baby sit for a while. Thanks to some very savvy DARA authors who blazed the trail, I woke up to Indie publishing. So I pulled my baby down, did some serious changes of some characters and thus the sex did finally fit in. I was ready. I was going to Indie Publish my book.
I already had a preliminary cover prepared. Still I wanted to shop it around one last time. I am so very glad I did!
On May 1, 2014, after nine years trying to get this book published, Senior Editor of Soul Mate Publishing offered a contract to publish my NINE LIVES, TWO DOWN. Contracts are signed and I now await further from her. SO EXCITING!!!
I wonder what their version of my cover will be??? The first book of yours will always hold a special place in the authors heart. I wanted Nine Lives, Two Down to be that first book. Now, I can kick my heels up and celebrate. But I have stories to write!
Oh and my new song? "HAPPY" by Pharrell Williams.
Oh what a feeling....
The song "What a Feeling" from the movie Flashdance sums up my feelings and inspiration in just several of the lines.
"What a feeling, being's believin' I can have it all." That line got me inspired to write, to edit, to cut, to add and change some of the characters. In essence, making it worthy ( in my mind anyway), to send it out. Many us realize this is a very scary time. The story you spent night after night up with it, cried over and prayed over it, is in the hand of someone else. They have the ultimate chore of telling you what they thought of it.
Every writer out there who dreams of seeing their stories in print ( or digital) know the let down in your heart when you hear back from them.
"We like the story, but..." or You're a good writer, but...." and the most common line I heard..." We like the story, but it just doesn't fit our line."
I knew I should have stuck more sex in there!
After some discouragement set in, I picked up another line from the lyrics and decided to make it my theme and push me to move forward.
"Take your passion and make it happen!"
So I did. I wrote on other stories and let my baby sit for a while. Thanks to some very savvy DARA authors who blazed the trail, I woke up to Indie publishing. So I pulled my baby down, did some serious changes of some characters and thus the sex did finally fit in. I was ready. I was going to Indie Publish my book.
I already had a preliminary cover prepared. Still I wanted to shop it around one last time. I am so very glad I did!
On May 1, 2014, after nine years trying to get this book published, Senior Editor of Soul Mate Publishing offered a contract to publish my NINE LIVES, TWO DOWN. Contracts are signed and I now await further from her. SO EXCITING!!!
I wonder what their version of my cover will be??? The first book of yours will always hold a special place in the authors heart. I wanted Nine Lives, Two Down to be that first book. Now, I can kick my heels up and celebrate. But I have stories to write!
Oh and my new song? "HAPPY" by Pharrell Williams.
"What a feeling, being's believin' I can have it all." That line got me inspired to write, to edit, to cut, to add and change some of the characters. In essence, making it worthy ( in my mind anyway), to send it out. Many us realize this is a very scary time. The story you spent night after night up with it, cried over and prayed over it, is in the hand of someone else. They have the ultimate chore of telling you what they thought of it.
Every writer out there who dreams of seeing their stories in print ( or digital) know the let down in your heart when you hear back from them.
"We like the story, but..." or You're a good writer, but...." and the most common line I heard..." We like the story, but it just doesn't fit our line."
I knew I should have stuck more sex in there!
After some discouragement set in, I picked up another line from the lyrics and decided to make it my theme and push me to move forward.
"Take your passion and make it happen!"
So I did. I wrote on other stories and let my baby sit for a while. Thanks to some very savvy DARA authors who blazed the trail, I woke up to Indie publishing. So I pulled my baby down, did some serious changes of some characters and thus the sex did finally fit in. I was ready. I was going to Indie Publish my book.
I already had a preliminary cover prepared. Still I wanted to shop it around one last time. I am so very glad I did!
On May 1, 2014, after nine years trying to get this book published, Senior Editor of Soul Mate Publishing offered a contract to publish my NINE LIVES, TWO DOWN. Contracts are signed and I now await further from her. SO EXCITING!!!
I wonder what their version of my cover will be??? The first book of yours will always hold a special place in the authors heart. I wanted Nine Lives, Two Down to be that first book. Now, I can kick my heels up and celebrate. But I have stories to write!
Oh and my new song? "HAPPY" by Pharrell Williams.
May 20, 2014
Michelle Miles: Cat on Fire
I wish I was making this story up.It was a Sunday night. I’d baked potatoes in the oven. When I do this, I roll them in olive oil and sea salt and then wrap them in foil. I put a pan covered in foil in the oven to catch the drippings but invariably, it leaves a stench behind. We have a small house. So when something in the oven is stinky, it stinks up the whole house. (However, the potatoes were DELISH.)
Now. Just to give you some idea of the setup. We have an open concept living/dining/kitchen. There’s a bar where the stove/oven is and a small walkway between that and the sofa. Husband was sitting on the sofa watching Sunday night football. And I decide I’m going to light some candles to get rid of the smell.
Dexter the Cat has a bed which he’s a tad too big for. He’s fat but he’s losing weight. The candles are on the bar area right above him. He’s happily sleeping in his bed when I grab the box of matches. I strike the match but the stupid thing breaks in half. I watch the match end – as if in slow motion – fall toward the cat lighting in midair.
Two things cross my mind in about 2.3 seconds.
First: “Aw hell the match broke.”
Second: “OH SHIT the match lit!”
As the match lands on the cat in a POOF, I shout “KITTY KITTY KITTY!!” as he leaps from his bed about the same time I reach down to extinguish the small flame. And I’m wondering if the damn cat bed is going to ignite. Because the match has landed where he was. I’m also wondering if I need to tell Husband to get the fire extinguisher.
At this point, I have visions of the cat on fire (which he’s not) running through the house. Can you imagine THAT call to 911? “Um, yes, I set my cat on fire and now the whole house is in flames.” Wonder if the fire marshal would investigate that one?
Anyway, the cat is sitting a few feet away. He meows at me. The fire is out. And I’m laughing hysterically.
That’s when the husband turns his head and says, “What are you DOING back there?” Because, naturally, he saw NONE of this happening. Figures.
But I’m laughing too hard to even breathe. I finally catch my breath and tell him what happened. He merely shakes his head. “Only you.”
Hey, I don’t know how this stuff happens to me. Really.
By the way, the cat was TOTALLY FINE. He didn’t even have any singed fur. Please don’t send PETA after me.
May 16, 2014
.@PhyllisMiddleton - An official announcement & time to party #MFRWorg #PlottingPrincesses
!!! AN ANNOUNCEMENT !!!
!!IT’S PARTY TIME!!It is official. Earlier this Month, I signed a publishing Contract with Soul Mate Publishing for my debut book
NINE LIVES, TWO DOWNA romantic suspense
This book is ‘my baby’ and written In three months in 2005, following My joining RWA and dara. I was So inspired by these organizations That The story figuratively ‘hit’ me in the head in One night in which I wrote the big black moment first and the first chapter next – in that one night.
I’d been writing stories since age 13, But it wasn’t until 2005 that I decided To get serious about writing and Learning the craft on my road to Becoming a publisher writer. It’s been a 9 year journey.
I am thrilled to be able to Share with you the EXCITEMENT of This ride.
By the way – I am the last of the plotting princesses To become published. Well, somebody had to bring up the rear!
Phyllis Middleton
princess
May 15, 2014
Announcement! It's Party Time!
**ANNOUNCEMENT**
!!IT’S PARTY TIME!!It is official. Earlier this Month, I signed a publishing Contract with soul mate Publishing for my debut book
NINE LIVES, TWO DOWNA romantic suspense
This book is ‘my baby’ and written In three months in 2005, following My joining RWA and dara. I was So inspired by these organizations That The story figuratively ‘hit’ me in the head in One night in which I wrote the big black moment first and the first chapter next – in that one night.
I’d been writing stories since age 13, But it wasn’t until 2005 that I decided To get serious about writing and Learning the craft on my road to Becoming a publisher writer. It’s been a 9 year journey.
I am thrilled to be able to Share with you the thrills of This ride.
By the way – I am the last of the plotting princesses To become published. Well, somebody had to bring up the rear!Phyllis middletonprincess
!!IT’S PARTY TIME!!It is official. Earlier this Month, I signed a publishing Contract with soul mate Publishing for my debut bookNINE LIVES, TWO DOWNA romantic suspense
This book is ‘my baby’ and written In three months in 2005, following My joining RWA and dara. I was So inspired by these organizations That The story figuratively ‘hit’ me in the head in One night in which I wrote the big black moment first and the first chapter next – in that one night.
I’d been writing stories since age 13, But it wasn’t until 2005 that I decided To get serious about writing and Learning the craft on my road to Becoming a publisher writer. It’s been a 9 year journey.
I am thrilled to be able to Share with you the thrills of This ride.
By the way – I am the last of the plotting princesses To become published. Well, somebody had to bring up the rear!Phyllis middletonprincess
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