Jenn LeBlanc's Blog, page 11
May 6, 2011
Now Available from All Romance Ebooks!!!
The Rake and the Recluse
By: Jenn LeBlanc | Other books by Jenn LeBlanc
Published By: Jenn LeBlanc
ISBN # 9780981672021
Word Count: 161061
Heat Index 
Available in: Epub
Filed under: historical romance, The Novel Tagged: sale
For Tiffany
A special edit…quick and dirty style 
Filed under: BDSM, Illustration, Images Tagged: crop, Derek, Jenn LeBlanc, male, model, riding, sexy
May 4, 2011
Lookie what I did!
Taught myself yet another trick…animated GIFs. Because the iThingys are flashy non gratis, I decided (since the iPad was really my inspiration for the illustrations) I needed an animated ad that would work on the the iThingys and VOILA:
my new ad is fully iCompatible 
Filed under: Illustration, Images Tagged: ads, advertising, gif, iPad, romance
April 28, 2011
Littleish Womens…and other nonesuchery.
I have four daughters. Like how I did that, I just outed myself like that. FOUR. Insane right? Oh yeah, just ask my husband, poor only boy (save a dog and a cat…which are cancelled out by a female dog and female cat…) I suppose we could poll the mice in the garage.
Anywhoo. My eldest daughter is now 18 and the youngest is nine. It's a little disconcerting to think I have a legal adult for a daughter. Yeesh. We have been through a lot together. I have always hoped to help my daughters become strong beautiful women. Able to stand up for themselves and those in need. Able to laugh at themselves and others. Able to use humor to bring out the best in people and to diffuse ugly situations. Yes. My goal was to raise a group of superheroes. I can only hope I have succeeded in some small measure, and in some of them I can see it.
Crank —18— is a bit unsure of herself, but funny when she wants to be, though her death-stare could explode heads at 50 paces without warning, and has enough heat you can feel it through walls. She can also whip out a mean Snoopy dance, so watch it. P.S. she is also a ginger…you know what that means.
Sweets —15— was blessed with my hair (I am SO sorry) but has figured out how to tame it at a much younger age than I did. (In my defense— the tool of my day was a crimping iron, she has a straightener, I call so not fair.) She is sweet and bubbly and everybody loves her, I mean LOVES her. But watch out when you turn your back because that is when her eyes narrow and the daggers shoot out, measuring you for truthfulness and sincerity. If you are found lacking she will be able to compute your error in moments, and turn you on your ear before you can say "Hey blondie!"
Sass —14— I actually had nothing to do with until she was 2. But then the game was on. Fixing all the crazy her Dad had pushed on this poor girl. Nothing but sports and shorts. Kidding, but she is her father's daughter. This one doesn't wait for you to turn before her steely-eyed glare is unleashed. You'll know it's coming with a slight widening of her eyes, and the cock of her lips to one side. All I can say is…duck. And if she laughs…run.
Danger —9— is just plain evil. No. Seriously. I'm just hoping to stay in her good graces so when she takes over the world I have an 'in.' A front row seat on the winning side. I think she does complex scientific notations in her sleep. When awake she is generally cooking, destroying the house and terrorizing the animals, as well as running experiments on her older sisters. Yes. Human reactionary experimentation. I will walk into a room where 18, 15 and 14 are yelling at each other and 9 will be sitting in the corner watching with her Pinky and the Brain grin on her face. You know she has just masterminded the perfect coup.
I would be remiss to not introduce Mr., who is usually hiding in his man-cave, watching Raylan on the DVR and wishing there was more balance to the universe, and more racing in Denver.
The animals, in order of appearance of course, (the only fair way to do it) are as follows:
Baci (officially the very pretentious: Rocky Dane's Baci per Tutto out of somedog and some other dog I can't remember) is an almost nine-year-old great dane. She is the most hyperactive great dane I have ever met. Regardless of her age. And if you know danes, you know 9 is OLD for a dane. So we expect her to slow down…any day now. Aaaanny day. Like tomorrow. Baci, my sweet is a boston. So she is black with a blaze and boots, and now has grey whiskers. The only giveaway to her advanced years. Last year the little [redacted] sweetheart jumped a four foot fence, but balked at the last minute and tore her leg open on a spike. We thought for sure the 12 inches of stitches was going to slow her down. mmmnope.
Samsun. (named as such by the pound, and someone who said "get it? Sun because he is orange! tee hee") And we didn't rename him because, well, I don't do that. (Usually). Anywhoo, he is a big beast of a cat. Or in the word of the dude who fixed my furnace "DAMN!!! That cat is HUGE!!!!" Yeah, he's big and awful pretty. He also has the love of all the girls, and there was only one whisker cutting incident with Danger, to which he promptly taught her he wasn't game for that sh!t and piss off.
Zeus is our second dane and the last of the men in here, though he is the biggest chicken I'm pretty sure Sam would disavow that statement before the world and the mailman. He needed a temporary home, and was promptly 'forgotten' by his forever home. Whatever. If you don't want your animal just say so. COWARD. Ridiculous. Zeus is a registered fawn. That is all I know because we have no paperwork on him. She told us he came from a breeder out of Florida with his brother, Leonidas, who she kept. Whatever. He has a home, though Baci is getting crotchety in her old age and the poor boy rarely has a bed by morning. She is such a bitch.
The fourth and final four-legger is Delilah. Crank found her down the block in the middle of the night and brought her home, because we have coyotes. We thought she was feral at the time, but the next day learned she lived at the opposite end of the block with a family whose children liked to throw her on the trampoline, carry her by her legs and tail and feed her nothing but bread crust (boy that was a fun habit to break.) So we just kinda…kept her. Shhh. Oh, they moved a couple years ago so whatever. Spawns of satan. D is a bit of an oddball, not much of a people cat (uh…duh) but she has slowly warmed up to us…and four years later she might let you pet her for a couple strokes…but not too much. Back off man, she likes her space. She also like to beat the hell out of Samsun. Yes, Samsun and Delilah. Crank brought her home and said I'm calling her Midnight, and I said, no. Her name is Delilah. (in my defense, she had the previous name for all of 5 minutes, and Delilah totally fits.) Also she looks like the night fury, toothless, from How to Train a Dragon. Except with hair.
There it is. All this chaos packed into 2,000 square feet. (Oh now you're scared right?)
Filed under: News Tagged: cat, dane, daughters, dog, dragon, family, great dane, husband, introduction
April 26, 2011
Eleven Scandals to Start to Win a Duke's Heart – by Sarah MacLean
(Love By Numbers #3)
by Sarah MacLean
"She lives for passion.
Bold, impulsive, and a magnet for trouble, Juliana Fiori is no simpering English miss. She refuses to play by society's rules: she speaks her mind, cares nothing for the approval of the ton, and can throw a punch with remarkable accuracy. Her scandalous nature makes her a favorite subject of London's most practiced gossips . . . and precisely the kind of woman The Duke of Leighton wants far far away from him.
He swears by reputation.
Scandal is the last thing Simon Pearson has room for in his well-ordered world. The Duke of Disdain is too focused on keeping his title untainted and his secrets unknown. But when he discovers Juliana hiding in his carriage late one evening—risking everything he holds dear—he swears to teach the reckless beauty a lesson in propriety. She has other plans, however; she wants two weeks to prove that even an unflappable duke is not above passion."
OMGoodness. This book was wonderful. I literally could not put it down. There wasn't even a pause with an "okay, just one more chapter," no. Full steam ahead. This is a book that grabs you by the hand and drags you along on the adventure.
The scenes are sweet and endearing as much as they are adventurous and exciting. The characters are bright and beautiful, and the main characters grow in such wildly wonderful ways.
Some of my favorite romance novels, and one of the reasons I am so in love with the genre is the possibility for redemption. In one book a character can be the evil bad and then the next he ends up the hero, and really well done books make him quite the best hero of them all. (And apparently the first two of this series, Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake and Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord, he was a giant douche.) I don't know the details of course, but I can guess from his demeanor in this book he was a seriously unlikeable dude.
Juliana is sweet and friendly and believable, she got her phrases confused, but not so much that is was kitschy, and her personality was wonderful. I loved the verb conjugation detail.
Simon was a beautiful, irritating, obnoxious but so very endearing hero. The scene at her brother's country home is so touching, so incredibly fresh and new— well, it quite honestly stole my breath. I'm sure my husband hates this book because I was up late reading while he was sleeping, and I laughed out loud several times. A lot. Often.
I LOVED this book. I never threw my iPad across the room, I could hardly put it down. I NEVER rolled my eyes, there was zero WTFckry, and it was quite honestly one of the most refreshing and wonderful books I have read so far this year.
I received this book from Netgalley for review and I loved, Loved, LOVED it
Filed under: historical romance, review Tagged: #11Scandals, Eleven Scandals, Eleven Scandals to Start to Win a Duke's Heart, historical, historical romance, love story, reviwe, romance, Sarah Maclean
April 24, 2011
The Vampire Narcise – Colleen Gleason
"Regency England stands defiant against Napoleon.
But battles among men mean little to those who live forever – especially when the Dracule are waging their own war.
Skilled in the seduction of men, both mortal and immortal, Narcise Moldavi is the greatest weapon in her twisted brother's war among the Dracule. Until she falls for Giordan Cale.
Her first searing encounter with Giordan brands them with a passionate love. But Giordan's vow to help Narcise escape her brother's rule is followed by a betrayal more agonizing than sunlight.
Wounded but determined, Narcise ensnares vampire hunter Chas Woodmore in her quest for revenge and to reclaim her life. He wants her, worships her, will kill for her. And the Dracule never forget a wrong – nor do they forgive."
-Goodreads Blurb
I'm calling this a strong 3.269435
Maybe I should have waited longer between Dimitri and Narcise. Because Dimitri, oh Dimitri. It was by far the strongest book.
Maybe I would have preferred this more form Giordans POV. I have no idea. I liked Narcise. I understood her. I think the transitions were too jarring for me, the jumpy timeline was intrusive. it seemed every break was one week later. two weeks later, ten years later, etc. It just seemed choppy and was really a bit annoying to me. I really felt like all these scenes were tossed in a blender and spit back out. Beyond that. I didn't understand what was happening. I *think* something was said about Giordan being special in the Voss book, but don't remember, whereas all other aspects that transcend the novels are repeated throughout.
Reading this one it seems that it was the last and most difficult to piece together from the existing timeline. I liked the interaction with the whatever it is that speaks to each of them, Voss' woman, Dimitri's bookseller. We were really left wondering with the cat and what was happening with Giordan and I would have liked more about that. I still feel very confused about what happened differently there and why. Sure sometimes there is no why, but the why was answered in that respect with the other two, this one is just. Missing. We don't have the Giordan story, it is just thrown in, like so many facts that we just have to accept. But the story was in the search and I missed that. I really didn't like that whole thing. The difference between them and Voss and Dimitri intrigues me, but the backstory really was lacking for me, the vintage and her dude came out of nowhere, and it really didn't sit well in my eyes.
I am frustrated. I guess that much is obvious. Dimitri was so well done, the build from the previous book was perfect, the tension in his book was palpable and spot on. It just really unravelled for me in this one. There was too much story for the book. So much that wasn't told, or was just glossed over. Suddenly they are back from Scotland. What? NO. sigh.
Plus, why can't they go in through the armpit? Just saying.
I was stuck in this book from the beginning, waiting for it to get pulled together like the other two. I didn't throw my iPad across the room, but I did toss it on my pillow at the end because it was over, and I was all confused. WFTckry abounds in this one, my eyeballs are dizzy from rolling.
I want to say… something else. I don't know what. I love Gleason's writing, and her characters. I desperately wish the book was different, but for every one of me there will be a hundred of me who love it dearly without a doubt and that makes me smile. There was a beutiful story in there somewhere, I just couldn't get past the befuddlery to get to it. It has to be just me because the other reviews are fantastic. I am going to re-read the series rapid fire and see if that makes it better. Perhaps it was that the other two were much more intricately entwined. ugh. I dunno. What do you think?
As for the cover, it is just kinda meh. Dimitri should have the red cover. Aside from that, the dude is asleep on the cover. That is NOT hot.
Color me frustrated.
I received this book from Netgalley for review
And honest to God sidewise must be a regional dialect thing, but I am not going to pick it up.
Filed under: historical romance, paranormal, Regency, review Tagged: Colleen Gleason, historical, historical romance, love story, Narcise, novel, review, romance, The Vampire Narcise, vampire, vintage
April 23, 2011
Bugger it all.
Apologies, my brain is all over the place today, so this post might just follow.
I need to blog more often over here. My split personality is going to be the death of me. I though I had conjoined (yeah I said it) my two selves into one with my illustrated novel. But my photo side is still running full steam ahead without the wordsmith. I had rather hoped that I wouldn't forever be trapped in two vastly differing communities and would be accepted, enfolded, welcomed and ensconced deeply in one. It hasn't yet happened, though I do still hope. I am a country unto myself until then. Gosh and doesn't that sound cocky. The truth is I feel cast adrift. I've no doubt my photojournalism people aren't interested in the latest news romance writing, while the majority of my writing tweeps could care less about the pj side of my being. The closest they are to coming together, and quite happily I might add, is in the studio.
Last week was a difficult week in world of photojournalism, and the reality of how dangerous our jobs can be was none to prevalent after two if the most dedicated and talented photojournalists were killed during shelling in Misrata, Libya. The most beautiful elegy I have seen, and a very telling description of what it is to be a war photographer was a remembrance of Tim Hetherington written by colleague and friend, Sebastian Junger.
I always knew I could never be a war photographer. I am jumpy as all get out to begin with, standing amidst live fire and noise would send me into a complete state of panic, something that cannot happen when in that situation. I have nothing but the utmost respect for the men and women who follow that dragon. It was only a month ago that three other journalists were held hostage in Libya and treated…well, less than admirably. It is not an easy job to have. It takes a certain dedication that is so very hard to find, as well as a terribly thick skin. And their work is so transient, like their lives. There is, unfortunately, always another conflict, another photographer, another story.
The romance community also lost someone this past week, author Beverly Barton. Along those lines another author, Ashley March, wrote a beautiful remembrance of her mother, who passed away one year ago this week. So the week was spent in tears and sorrow for love and loss and remembrance of so many whose lives were so very different and beautiful in their own regard. One life is not worth more than another, and one death not more or less powerful. Barton has a novel set to be released in a couple days, and the work of both Hondros and Hetherington has been running since their cards made it from their cameras to a computer.
I've no idea where I meant to go with this. It brings into perspective those things closest to us.
While I have been working on this first novel, I have also been a working member of the media. I shot countless assignments for local papers, as well as covering the oil spill in the gulf last year. You get very little recognition outside your circle in this line of work. I did receive a first place award for my coverage of the gulf oil spill, but unlike the novel, that work is long gone. The story is over. The shelf life on that work was about one day and now it is old news. Anything coming out of there now requires fresh images to accompany it. This is perhaps why I am so drawn to the staying power of the novel. A work of art that doesn't go away. Something that stays, and can be purchased and read far into the future with, perhaps, the same sort of relevance as when it was first written.
My point, what was my point. Need there be one? I'm not entirely sure. If anything can be garnered from this rambling mess of a blog post perhaps it is that life is fleeting, regardless of the path you choose to follow. You are supposed to come full circle in your writing. Start somewhere, diverge in the middle then bring it all home. Right? I very rarely follow the rules. I suppose the point was that stretched across two paths, two futures, two versions of me, I am finding more similarity in all of us.
Filed under: Uncategorized
April 17, 2011
Roxleigh – excerpt
***NOTE: The following excerpt is not appropriate for younger audiences.
This is a scene from The Rake and the Recluse. ©2011 Jenn LeBlanc ALL RIGHTS RESERVED absolutely no reproduction without the express permission of the author.***
"Gideon," she whispered, and with that one small word he was rock hard. He jerked up, trying to discern her figure in the darkness. He heard her trip on something, a tiny cry escaping her lips. He moved to help her, then realized he was trapped in the bed by his nakedness. His breath hissed as he inhaled.
"Gideon," she whispered again, "are you still up?"
He shook his head. Still? Not still, again— yes, but not still, Gideon thought, and then— "Yes," he grumbled. "What are you doing here?"
"I couldn't sleep, I had to see you," she whispered so gently he could hardly hear her.
Leaning forward, he grasped her hand, trying to stop it from moving across his body as he felt it passing over the blankets, coming dangerously close to the evidence of his arousal. "You should not be speaking, and you should not be here," he said.
"And yet, I am," she whispered.
He moaned. "You definitely should not be in here," he attempted to convince her again that she should leave. "Mrs. Weston will have an apoplexy when she discovers—" he felt her other hand on his chest and the weight of her on the bed as he drew in a resolute breath.
He let go of her wrist as she climbed across the bed toward him. "Lord take it, Francine you must leave, you simply must. This is terribly untoward, you cannot—" he was cut off again by her hand, this time against his mouth. He thought his cock would burst from the pressure pulsating violently to his loins. He groaned, and her lips caught the noise before it had a chance to escape, her tongue teasing timidly.
He reached up in the dark to find her shoulder to push her away, but her arm wasn't where he guessed it would be and he ended up with the soft mound of her breast cradled in his hand. She gasped and pressed her lips harder against his as he opened his mouth to her.
The woman above him was not acting like an innocent. He marveled at the thought as he momentarily yielded to her pleasures. Larrabee said he hadn't received confirmation of the consummation of her marriage; he assumed that meant that she wasn't yet married, but what if she was? What if Hepplewort had already claimed her? Roxleigh could never marry her, and she had been lost to him before this had begun— but for tonight, if she was married and he made love to her, he would cuckold that bastard for frightening his innocent wife.
"Stop thinking," she whispered succinctly.
Roxleigh found a new source of passion. His thumb circled the hard point of her breast through the soft fabric of her nightgown as her breath wilted in a sigh. He rolled her beneath him in one swift move, twisting the blankets about them, placing one of his thickly muscled thighs between her soft legs. He spread her below him and she whimpered at the abruptness of his maneuver. He shifted achingly slowly, settling his strong points into her supple curves. He had one hand on her hip and moved the other to her nape, gently caressing the hollow below her ear with his thumb.
Helplessly, she opened her mouth to him and he took, plunging, tasting the satiny soft backs of her lips and the slick underside of her tongue, feeling a powerful shudder wrack her body from her head to her toes. He suckled her lower lip tasting the essence of the drunken pears, which even now lingered. He drew her lip between his, teasing it with his tongue before letting it go then licking and nipping at the other, listening to her delighted coos. He felt her hands on his back, aware of the pressure and the feel of his muscles twisting beneath his skin.
He shifted over her, the hardness of his body resting on the softness of hers. Moving his hand from her hip, he skimmed across her belly, and up the center of her body between her breasts, pausing to feel the flutter of her heart as she arched into him, digging her nails into his shoulders. He leaned up on one elbow, wincing, keeping his hand on her chest as he looked down into the darkness that enveloped her. He wanted desperately to see her. He imagined her silky skin shimmering in the moonlight, and the thought caused him to press his hips into her involuntarily. Blasted curtains! he thought, with a deep-seated moan. He preferred to sleep in total darkness, not waking until Ferry came to open the folds to the morning light. He never thought the complete darkness would bestow him such disadvantage.
Pushing his manhood into the shallow valley next to her hip, and grasping both sides of her head as he balanced over her on his elbows, her arms caught in the circle of his, he took her mouth again.
Her mind centered on the hard shaft that stroked her sensitized skin through the sheets. He moved, kissing her cheeks, eyelids, and forehead, drawing liquid trails of heat over her face with a long slow burn that made her gasp for air.
He pushed his fingers into her hair, grasping and pulling her head down to the bed beneath them as he trailed kiss after kiss down her jaw. With his tongue he lit a fire down the long curve of her exposed neck until he met the hollow at the base of her throat, where he rested his lips, quietly groaning against her, pausing for what seemed an insurmountable expanse of moments.
"Francine, I am very much past the point where I can rationalize," he groaned, the vibration of his baritone resonating through his chest and sinking into hers, firming her nipples. "You either need to find your way out of my bed, or I will find my way into you," he growled.
Her only response was to bend the leg that was caught beneath him, gently pressuring his loins with her thigh, urging him closer. His hardness inched slowly closer and closer still to where it was made to be, and every increment brought the cadence of her heart to a stronger rhythm. This is it, she thought finally, tonight, right now, this is it. The warmth of his breath against her throat loosened her muscles, willing a sound of carnal ecstasy to escape her lips.
She moaned a final plea and his senses unraveled. Rising above her, he kicked the blankets free of their legs and reached down with one hand, slowly pulling the hem of her nightgown up, resting his knuckles against the front of her exposed knee. He breathed deeply of the scent caught in the hollow of her neck, lavender and rain.
He turned his hand over on her knee, slowly tracing the crease that led around the back, into the softest skin of her leg. He trailed his calloused fingers up her thigh, drawing her leg up slowly as the nightgown rode up around his forearm.
"Gideon," she said deeply. It drove him.
"Again," he said gruffly, "say my name, again."
"Ahh, Gideon!" she cried as he reached the crease just below the soft roundness of her buttocks.
He gently pushed his fingers between her legs, testing her heat. She was wet— for him, drenched in passion for him. He held a triumphant smile in the darkness as she gasped again and her hands flew to his shoulders, pressing him back slightly, sobering him as a small cry escaped her lips. With great difficulty he raised himself on his elbow, releasing her hair and bringing his hand away from her womanhood.
She clenched his shoulders. "No, please, please, please, Gideon. Don't stop," she breathed. She drew a sharp breath as he carefully placed his hand on the side of her hip, gently stroking the juncture between leg and belly with his thumb. Her body started to tremble at his pause and withdrawal.
Roxleigh thought about what he'd learned this night, how she must be terrified of moments like this. How Hepplewort must have taken her by force and how difficult it must have been for her to soften and come to him. "Francine, sweet, lovely Francine. We should—"
"No more," she cried, her voice wavering. "I am only scared, because— just— don't stop," she begged. "I want you Gideon, I want to feel you, inside of me, filling me," she breathed.
He was shocked. She ignited a fire that no power on Earth could repress. He felt unbound from his senses, his emotions grazing the surface of his skin, raw and unprotected. His head dropped to her chest with an agonized sound as his brain wrestled with her fears and his conscience. Slowly— surely, he moved his hand to the triangle of curls at the base of her soft belly and gently combed and teased them with his fingertips. He felt her thighs open to him instinctively. He turned his head taking one nipple into his mouth wetting the fabric of her gown with his tongue, teasing with his teeth.
She jerked up at the shock of the wet heat, the sensations from her breast racing to her belly, concentrating inside with a tingling pressure that threatened to burst. She opened her eyes wide, straining to see his head bowed over her body through the inky darkness, but she couldn't. She reached for his disarrayed locks and immediately tangled her fingers thoroughly, stroking and pulling and pushing, urging his mouth over her passion swollen breast, guiding him to the other, where an equally powerful shock sent her hips thrusting forward as a ribbon of electricity shot to her core.
Innately her hips thrust into his hand as his mouth teased at her nipple, gathering the intoxicating bolts of energy. She felt his fingers unfurl as his palm flattened against her. His dexterous fingers shifted gently and she pushed back.
He slipped farther into her curls, searching the soft folds to find that which lay cloaked within. The first touch sent another jolt to her belly as he gently encircled the crux with his thumb, caressing and teasing. Her heartbeat quickened against the lips pressed to her breast as his hand slid farther down, until one finger slowly entered her, leaving his thumb to tease the delicate nub.
Roxleigh moaned at the hot, wet tightness enfolding his finger. How can she still be so firm? he thought clenching his eyes. If Hepplewort had his way, certainly she would have been loosened. He shook his head, panting heavily against her flushed skin from the feel of the constricting gateway around his finger. Perhaps she is merely tense from fear. He closed his eyes, slowly stroking her from within and without, as she saturated with desire and he reached the precipice at which he could not maintain without taking her.
"Please," she breathed.
Soaring down the peak like an eagle in flight, the last vestiges of propriety left his consciousness. He quickly, gracefully, moved his other thigh between hers and spread his legs, pushing her open for him. In the same movement he swept her nightgown up over her head, tugging it free from her arms and flinging it across the room where it hit something and fell to the floor with a quiet thud.
He advanced on her with one hand at her nape, the other coming to rest at the small of her back, his fingers spread wide like talons, both urging and holding; carefully tilting her pelvis for his intrusion as he grasped her hair and pulled her head back again, kissing her throat with wet, searching, open kisses, breathing deeply as he attempted to control the forward thrust of his hips. Every muscle in his body trembled as he reined his advance.
He felt the head of his manhood warmly encompassed by her tight, flexing muscles and his lips drew tight across his teeth, drawing a hiss of breath against her neck. His mouth opened wide against her neck as though to bite her, but he never pressed the sharp edge of his teeth, only the pliable pressure of his lips as he drew against her gently.
He moved forward slowly, holding her firmly, until he felt an undeniable resistance against the cusp of his manhood. Pulling back slightly his eyes opened wide as he lifted his face above hers trying desperately to see her through the veil of blackness. He gradually comprehended the meaning of the barrier and froze in pained abeyance as the reality of the matter set in and he shook his head in confusion.
Her eyes flew wide in the dark as he advanced gradually, the pressure intense as she felt her body stretching to accept him. Then she felt the sudden twinge that threatened a searing pain, followed by his nearly imperceptible retreat. No…no, no, No. NO, she thought as she reached down, grasping his hips. She dug her nails into the soft skin of his buttocks urging him forward. "Please," she begged.
He froze, his breath quickened, his entire body tensed, and her nails dragged his soft flesh as he pulled back from her and she cried out in great sobs of defeat.
Filed under: News, Snippets Tagged: excerpt, historical romance, illustrated, illustration, image, male, model, photography, Roxleigh, sexy, The Rake and the Recluse, Victorian, vintage
Seven Day Loan – Tiffany Reisz
by Tiffany Reisz
"A trained submissive, Eleanor will do whatever her master commands…even spend a week with a stranger. Daniel has been a recluse since his wife's death, and Eleanor's lover thinks spending time with her will be therapeutic—especially since Daniel is also a Dom.
Despite her defiant streak, Eleanor can't resist giving in to Daniel's erotic demands. But while she'll let him have her body, she's determined to keep a guard around her heart. Even if Daniel wants to make Eleanor his permanently…."
What a great quickie. This novel was so easy to read, and brought the characters about so quick and wonderfully I was surprised when it ended that I didn't feel left out or wanting as i sometimes do. The story was perfect for the medium, or length. DO I want more? Well yes in a sequel sort of way, but in this the story was there, it wasn't contrived or lacking and I am grateful. So often short stories are not true short stories, they have too much to them, or the assumptions they needed to make aren't really available to be made, or the characters are not introduced or crafted well.
There was none of that here. The characters were well done, I felt, I trusted, I believed and I was finished all before 10a.m. Well done, bring on the next.
Oh, and Daniel. whoa. Daniel. I'm feelin' him.
I never wanted to throw my iPad across the room, never rolled my eyes and no WTFckry, a great erotic short.
I almost forgot! So remiss, the cover, beautiful cover. Simple, a bit of artistic license, and telling. Love it.
NEWS FLASH! Tiffany has posted chapter one of a new story on her blog. GO. READ. NOW. More Daniel. oh for sigh!
I purchased this book to read from one of those sites where you purchase ebooks for reading:
Amazon Barnes and Noble Sony Reader Store Borders
Filed under: BDSM, Contemporary, review, Short Story Tagged: BDSM, freebie, novella, review, Seven Day Loan, sexy, short story, Tiffany Reisz
April 12, 2011
The Vampire Dimitri – Colleen Gleason
"Dimitri, also known as the Earl of Corvindale, should be delighted that the headstrong Maia Woodmore is getting married. His mortal ward and houseguest has annoyed—and bewitched—the Dracule nobleman too long, and denying his animal cravings grows more excruciating by the day.
Miss Woodmore's family has a rather…complicated history with the immortals and she herself possesses a keen sensibility far beyond mere women's intuition. Marriage will give her safety, respectability and everything else a proper young lady could wish for. Everything, that is, except passion.
In the looming battle between Dracule factions, all pretenses will shatter as Maia and Dimitri come together in an unholy union of danger, desperation and fiercest desire."
-Goodreads Blurb
I LOVED this book. It was absolutely wonderful. This is one of those books that hits you, takes hold, won't let go and shakes you up whenever you try to turn away. I was reading till way to late at night, in the gym until my legs burned from running too long, during the day when I should have been working. Oh my. One of the reasons this book is so strong is the relationship was built in the first book in the series, The Vampire Voss. I liked that book a lot. This one I loved.
The powerful detail of Dimitri, the way he is, his foibles and damage are so very prevalent and tangible. I felt so strongly pulled to sympathize with him. You knew what his motives were, though she never outright said it. It was so well written you never had any doubt about his true beliefs, and it was so mesmerizing the way she drew him out, she never failed him, she never broke him, he remained true and staid to his course through the novel, he never wavered, he never changed. These are the books that speak so strongly to me, those where the characters don't change who they are inherently, they don't give up or give in. These are more powerful than mere romances, these are love stories, so incredibly deep and pivotal.
I just can't say enough about this book, but it wouldn't do anybody any favors for me to continue babbling incoherently. I think you have the gist of it. LOVED this book. I'm sorry I can't read it again for the first time. But I will be reading it again, and again.
I rolled my eyes once because of that one word, the same one from the last novel, sidewise must be one of those words. I've never heard it, I can't find it anywhere in reference, it must be a regional thing. I don't care anymore, that's how much I loved this book. No WTFckry, it kept me up until I couldn't stay awake every night, not to mention on the elliptical at the gym for 90 minutes. Never did I want to throw the book, in fact my iPad went everywhere with me in hopes I would have a chance to read.
And the cover was much better than the first, I can say here that the biggest problem I had with the first cover was that the heroine was terrified of the vampires, but the cover doesn't reflect that at all.
I received this book from NetGalley for review.
Filed under: historical romance, paranormal, review Tagged: Colleen Gleason, Draculia, Regency Draculia, review, The Vampire Dimitri, Voss
