Lisa Fox's Blog, page 89
November 8, 2014
Saturday Video – Church Lady – Naughty Parts
Bulbous is such a great word.
Filed under: Saturday Video Tagged: Bulbous, Church Lady, Dana Carvey, Naughty Parts, Saturday Night Live
November 7, 2014
November 6, 2014
November 4, 2014
Cold Feet At Christmas by Debbie Johnson
Cold Feet At Christmas by Debbie Johnson
Running out on your wedding shouldn’t be this much fun!
A remote Scottish castle on a snowy Christmas Eve. A handsome husband-to-be. A dress to die for. It should have been the happiest day of Leah Harvey’s life – but the fairytale wedding turns sour when she finds her fiancé halfway up the bridesmaid’s skirt just hours before the ceremony!
Fleeing the scene in a blizzard, Leah ends up stranded at the nearest cottage, where she collapses into the arms of its inhabitant – a man so handsome she thinks she must have died and gone to heaven!
And when Rob Cavelli suddenly finds himself with an armful of soaking wet, freezing cold, and absolutely gorgeous bride on the run, he’s more than happy to welcome her into his snowbound cottage this Christmas…
Available November 6, 2014! http://www.harperimpulseromance.com/books/cold-feet-at-christmas
***
Excerpt from Cold Feet At Christmas by Debbie Johnson
Jimmy Choo’s finest. Pleated white satin. Four inch heels. £500 a pop. For that, you’d expect them to be waterproof, thought Leah Harvey. Or at least to come with jet packs so she could fly out of this godforsaken frozen wasteland, and off to the nearest hotel.Ideally one with a spa, hot and cold running chocolate and Greek god waiters who hand-feed you peeled grapes.
Instead, she was here. In the snow. On Christmas Eve. In the middle of Scottish countryside so remote even the bloody sheep looked like they’d need a sat nav to find their way home.
The lights on the dashboard flickered on and off, casting a final ghostly neon glow before fading into nothingness. She turned the key in the lifeless ignition for the fifteenth time; held her frozen hands in front of the now defunct heating vents, and swore. Long, loud, and with such creative use of foul language that eventually she honked the horn to drown herself out. A self-imposed bleep machine to hide the fact she could make a flotilla of sailors blush.
She undid her seatbelt, noticed that the elegant satin of her ivory dress was now crushed and creased beyond redemption. Not that it mattered. It’s not like she’d be using that particular piece of haute couture again.
Climbing out of the cocoon of the car, her feet immediately sank ten inches into freezing cold snow. Her bare shoulders shook with cold, and her fingers and toes decided they weren’t even connected to her body as the chill factor took hold. More swearing. This time without the bleep machine. Nearby foxes were probably holding their paws over their cubs’ ears.
Great, she thought, turning round to kick the broken-down piece-of-crap car that belonged to her cheating bastard husband-to-be, scuffing the Jimmy Choos in the process. Just great. The perfect end to a perfect day. A gust of icy wind howled up the skirt of her dress, frost nipping at places it had no right to be. Not on the first date, at least. She should be wearing bearskin in weather like this, not a skimpy stretch of silk masquerading as underwear.
She had two choices, Leah decided, teeth chattering loud enough to turn her into a one-woman percussion section. Option One: stay in the car. Wait for help that might never come, as nobody had a clue where she was. Including her. Freeze overnight, and potentially get pecked to death by starving crows she’d be too weak to fight off. The only things left of her would be satin stilettos and her engagement ring.
Option Two: do a Captain Oates and head off across the field to the light she could just about see in the distance. A light must mean habitation, which must mean a human being. Possibly a psychopathic serial killer, or maybe a sex-starved sheep farmer planning Christmas dinner with his collection of blow-up dolls…which, she decided, hitching up the soggy hem of her gown, was still preferable to the crows-pecking-out-eyeballs scenario. She headed for the light.
As she trudged through the fields of snow, she conjured up a playlist of Christmas songs in her head to try and cheer herself up. Or at least help her resist the urge to simply lie down in the ice and sleep. Feed the World. Santa Claus is Coming to Town. Chestnuts Roasting On an Open Fire. Merry Christmas, Everyone…yeah, right, she thought, slinging her bag over her shoulder and continuing the slow, painful trek to her saviour.
A saviour who probably had one eye, a large collection of shotguns, and slept with his teeth in a jar.
****
Bio: After spending many years working as a journalist, I decided to stop telling other people’s stories, and start making up my own! I work from home in a very messy house near the beach, and write in between pouring bowls of Coco Pops for my three children and my dog (only kidding – he prefers Frosties!). I’m married to a man who is both a librarian and a musician – the perfect combination – and love to write pure, escapist fun. As well as romance, I’m also a published author in fantasy and crime.
www.facebook.com/debbiejohnsonauthor
@debbiemjohnson
Filed under: Guest Blogger Tagged: Christmas, Cold Feet At Christmas, Contemporary Romance, Debbie Johnson, Harper Impulse
November 3, 2014
Good Luck to Everyone Doing NaNoWriMo!
November 2, 2014
Her Perfect Lips Excerpt
An Excerpt From: HER PERFECT LIPS
Copyright © LISA FOX, 2014
All Rights Reserved, Harper Impulse, a Division of HarperCollins Publishers
Bourbon Street was just as she remembered—loud music and neon lights, frat boys in muscle shirts and girls in crop tops, the stench of beer and pine-scented antiseptic cleaner, the sidewalks littered with garbage and puke. Their little entourage stumbled into the first club they found, which had “Play That Funky Music” blaring from the speakers. Stacy shook her head. Some things truly never changed. Bars on Bourbon Street would play that song until some ultimate, catastrophic apocalypse finally managed to wipe the city out for good.
The barker at the door proudly announced that the club was now offering their world famous three-for-one happy hour. The vodka tonic Stacy ordered was served in a plastic cup the size of which was rarely seen outside of a 7-Eleven. It contained more alcohol than any human should probably ever consume in a single serving, and she was glad to see that in addition to the bad music, the drinking culture had not changed either.
She headed toward the back of the club, outside into the little courtyard area where the music was somewhat blunted and she was less likely to have a drink spilled over her. The others followed, people in the group talking amongst themselves and goggling at the drunken antics on the dance floor. Peter had fallen back to walk alongside Melanie, and they ambled slowly, their heads close together, taking softly. Stacy sighed. So much for the whole reason to participate in this journey. Not that she could blame him. Melanie was gorgeous. Still, the rejection stung. Not that it would’ve worked anyway. The distance between them would have eventually become a hassle.
She sipped her cocktail, watching the dance floor light up red, then blue, then green as the strobe light pulsed over the dancers. Once again, she had a choice and none of her options were all too appealing. She could go back to the hotel and try to find a new group of people to talk with, she could go to bed, or she could stay right where she was and basically drink alone.
“Let’s go someplace quieter,” Peter shouted over the music and everybody agreed.
She followed them back out onto Bourbon Street, seriously considering her next move. Should I stay or should I go now? She let the chorus play out in her head and in that one millisecond pause, a drunken man wearing only jeans shorts and plastic beads lunged at her from the crowd. She sidestepped around him and almost collided with a woman exiting Pat O’Briens. The woman squealed and Stacy veered off the sidewalk into the street. A group of tourists swept her away, forcing her backward along with them. She fought against the wave of bodies, but it was a losing battle. And then, out of nowhere, a hand grabbed her arm, a lifeline in the storm.
The tourists continued on their journey, but Stacy was held in place, firmly anchored by that strong grip. The hold on her arm was a little too familiar for a stranger and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to thank or berate her rescuer. She turned, and her breath caught when she recognized her savior. “Hello, Ten.”
“Hey, Stacy.”
He grinned and every single part of her tingled. He was as attractive as she remembered—tall and strong, with rich, chocolate-brown hair, and a twinkle of mischief in his startling green eyes. The years had changed him only slightly, taking away the softness of youth and adding hard ridges and planes to his handsome face. His hair was a little too long, and he had a two-day beard, but the scruffiness didn’t take away from his almost poetic good looks. And though she would never admit it out loud, just the way his thighs filled out his well-worn blue jeans sent a thread of wicked heat trickling down her spine. Ten was the stuff of all kinds of naughty fantasies, and a few of her favorite ones instantly flashed through her mind.
Now Available for Pre-order:
Harper Impulse: http://www.harperimpulseromance.com/books/her-perfect-lips
Amazon: http://goo.gl/tEUlUn
Amazon UK: http://goo.gl/qw69Ma
B&N: http://goo.gl/K9Fd46
Filed under: News, Writing Tagged: Contemporary Romance, Excerpt, Her Perfect Lips, Lisa Fox, New Orleans, Romance
November 1, 2014
October 31, 2014
October 30, 2014
Foxy Collection in Paperback!
THREE of my super-sexy short stories are now collected in paperback!
Get it now!
Amazon: http://goo.gl/P2de3Z
Ellora’s Cave: http://www.ellorascave.com/foxy.html
Filed under: News, Writing Tagged: Anthology, Christmas, Erotic Romance, Foxy, Lisa Fox, Mardi Gras, Paperback
