Sandra Jones's Blog, page 3
April 1, 2015
Guest Post: Carmen Stefanescu
I'm happy to welcome historical romance author Carmen Stefanescu today to Legendary Romance. Read on for more about her books and an excerpt!
Shadows of the Past
Carmen Stefanescu
Publisher: Wild Child Publishing
Genre: paranormal/light romance/light historical/light horror.
Blurb
Anne's relationship with her boyfriend Neil has disintegrated. After a two-year separation, they pack for a week vacation in hopes of reconciling. But fate has other plans for them.
The discovery of a bejeweled cross and ancient human bones opens a door to a new and frightening world--one where the ghost of a medieval nun named Genevieve will not let Anne rest. This new world threatens not only to ruin Anne and Neil's vacation but to end all hopes of reconciliation as Anne feels compelled to help free Genevieve's soul from its torment.
Can Anne save her relationship and help Genevieve find her eternal rest?
A touching, compelling story of tragedy, loss and the power of endless love and good magic.
The twists and turns in this paranormal tale keep the reader guessing up to the end and weave themselves together into a quest to rekindle love.
Excerpt
No sooner had Andrew swung off his horse and tied the reins of both horses to a tree than Genevieve, managing to break out of her petrified state, hurried from behind the gates.
A warm smile brightened his face upon seeing her. His smile melted away. Something about her expression must have warned him all wasn't well. His gaze, worried and questioning, lingered on her face.
"What's wrong, my darling? Have you changed your mind? Why are you here by the gate? I thought I’d find you in the old man's house? Someone could have seen you and alerted the Abbess," he said.
He pulled an ivory wood anemone from his saddlebag and gave it to Genevieve. "I picked this along the way. It looks like you: pretty and delicate.”
She heaved a sigh and accepted the flower. "Oh, Andrew, how sweet of you." She managed a smile.
"Come, we should leave at once," she said and glanced nervously over her shoulder. "Something terrible happened after you left for town. I think the Abbess found out about us. Our meeting in Uncle Ryan's cabin is no longer a secret. We have been overheard. For all I know someone spies on us even as we speak. I think the Abbess, or one of her 'friends,' is hovering somewhere nearby and listening to every word."
Andrew pulled her into his arms and tightened her in his embrace. "Calm down, please. Tell me what’s wrong."
"No, please, let's leave. There's danger all around us. I know what I'm saying."
“Then you can tell me what happened along the way." Andrew took hold of her hand as if trying to instill courage and confidence in her. He untied the reins of the horse he'd brought for her. Placing a tender kiss on her forehead, he helped Genevieve up and then swung himself into the saddle. He turned his head as if to hide the worried frown across his face. "A scorned woman is worse than an unleashed hurricane," he said. Then he addressed Genevieve, "We'll follow the most direct route through the forest."
Genevieve flinched.
The forest. The very cursed forest. The main reason for the tragedy in her family.
He nodded, saying, "Don't worry. We’re together. Have faith my love." He led the way into the forest.
Genevieve wrapped the dark mantle covering her shoulders more tightly around her and swallowed her fears as they began the cautious ride through the silent forest, through the silent night, enveloped by their own silent guilt.
… . . .
Tears welled in Anne's eyes, blurring her vision. She couldn’t explain them, or the sudden sadness seeping into her heart. This should’ve been a moment of happiness or, at least, contentment. She was with Neil again, and the outcome of their trip together should, very likely, bring their reconciliation. Why then did she seem detached from where she stood?
Anne shivered. Why the deep feeling of having seen this place, this forest before? And why the eerie sensation of being present here only in the body, while her mind was far away?
Away from the forest.
Away from Neil, the man who'd betrayed her trust and her love.
An onrush of sensations unfamiliar to her followed. Dizziness and a malevolent feeling of unreality suffocated her.
Anne edged cautiously closer to the rim of the bare cliff. Her foot tapped the edge. It seemed solid. She stared into the darkness of the abyss at her feet. It echoed the shadows in her heart. An unusual curiosity took hold of her. Should she step ahead? What was down there? Other human bones? Another mystery? The presence of evil, creeping up and enveloping her, became almost palpable. The vines of fog folded around her, dragging her to the depth. Her throat turned dry, and she gasped for air.
Megan's face contorted, the voice no longer pleasant. A hoarse gurgle, spluttering distorted words, "Yes, come... I'm waiting... I've been waiting for you for such a long time..."
Buy Link: Wild Child Publishinghttp://www.wildchildpublishing.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=84&products_id=410
Buy Link: http://www.amazon.com/Shadows-of-the-Past-ebook/dp/B00AK2D9I8/ref=sr_1_15?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1354874514&sr=1-15&keywords=shadows+of+the+past
Buy Link: Barnes & Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/shadows-of-the-past-carmen-stefanescu/1113910162?ean=2940015715026
Author bio: Carmen Stefanescu resides in Romania, the native country of the infamous vampire Count Dracula, but where, for about 50 years of communist dictatorship, just speaking about God, faith, reincarnation or paranormal phenomena could have led someone to great trouble - the psychiatric hospital if not to prison.
Teacher of English and German in her native country and mother of two daughters, Carmen Stefanescu survived the grim years of oppression, by escaping in a parallel world, that of the books. She has dreamed all her life to become a writer, but many of the things she wrote during those years remained just drawer projects. The fall of the Ceausescu’s regime in 1989, and the opening of the country to the world meant a new beginning for her. She started publishing. Poems first, and then prose. Both in English.
Author’s Links Carmen Stefanescu's Site: http://shadowspastmystery.blogspot.ro/https://twitter.com/Carmen_Bookshttp://www.pinterest.com/carmens007/http://www.facebook.com/pages/Carmen-Stefanescu-Books/499245716760283http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6624397.Carmen_Stefanescuhttps://plus.google.com/117216040843648957646/postshttp://www.amazon.com/Carmen-Stefanescu/e/B00APVDGAA/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1http://askdavid.com/reviews/book/paranormal-romance/3196
Shadows of the Past
Carmen Stefanescu
Publisher: Wild Child Publishing
Genre: paranormal/light romance/light historical/light horror.
Blurb
Anne's relationship with her boyfriend Neil has disintegrated. After a two-year separation, they pack for a week vacation in hopes of reconciling. But fate has other plans for them.
The discovery of a bejeweled cross and ancient human bones opens a door to a new and frightening world--one where the ghost of a medieval nun named Genevieve will not let Anne rest. This new world threatens not only to ruin Anne and Neil's vacation but to end all hopes of reconciliation as Anne feels compelled to help free Genevieve's soul from its torment.
Can Anne save her relationship and help Genevieve find her eternal rest?
A touching, compelling story of tragedy, loss and the power of endless love and good magic.
The twists and turns in this paranormal tale keep the reader guessing up to the end and weave themselves together into a quest to rekindle love.
Excerpt
No sooner had Andrew swung off his horse and tied the reins of both horses to a tree than Genevieve, managing to break out of her petrified state, hurried from behind the gates.
A warm smile brightened his face upon seeing her. His smile melted away. Something about her expression must have warned him all wasn't well. His gaze, worried and questioning, lingered on her face.
"What's wrong, my darling? Have you changed your mind? Why are you here by the gate? I thought I’d find you in the old man's house? Someone could have seen you and alerted the Abbess," he said.
He pulled an ivory wood anemone from his saddlebag and gave it to Genevieve. "I picked this along the way. It looks like you: pretty and delicate.”
She heaved a sigh and accepted the flower. "Oh, Andrew, how sweet of you." She managed a smile.
"Come, we should leave at once," she said and glanced nervously over her shoulder. "Something terrible happened after you left for town. I think the Abbess found out about us. Our meeting in Uncle Ryan's cabin is no longer a secret. We have been overheard. For all I know someone spies on us even as we speak. I think the Abbess, or one of her 'friends,' is hovering somewhere nearby and listening to every word."
Andrew pulled her into his arms and tightened her in his embrace. "Calm down, please. Tell me what’s wrong."
"No, please, let's leave. There's danger all around us. I know what I'm saying."
“Then you can tell me what happened along the way." Andrew took hold of her hand as if trying to instill courage and confidence in her. He untied the reins of the horse he'd brought for her. Placing a tender kiss on her forehead, he helped Genevieve up and then swung himself into the saddle. He turned his head as if to hide the worried frown across his face. "A scorned woman is worse than an unleashed hurricane," he said. Then he addressed Genevieve, "We'll follow the most direct route through the forest."
Genevieve flinched.
The forest. The very cursed forest. The main reason for the tragedy in her family.
He nodded, saying, "Don't worry. We’re together. Have faith my love." He led the way into the forest.
Genevieve wrapped the dark mantle covering her shoulders more tightly around her and swallowed her fears as they began the cautious ride through the silent forest, through the silent night, enveloped by their own silent guilt.
… . . .
Tears welled in Anne's eyes, blurring her vision. She couldn’t explain them, or the sudden sadness seeping into her heart. This should’ve been a moment of happiness or, at least, contentment. She was with Neil again, and the outcome of their trip together should, very likely, bring their reconciliation. Why then did she seem detached from where she stood?
Anne shivered. Why the deep feeling of having seen this place, this forest before? And why the eerie sensation of being present here only in the body, while her mind was far away?
Away from the forest.
Away from Neil, the man who'd betrayed her trust and her love.
An onrush of sensations unfamiliar to her followed. Dizziness and a malevolent feeling of unreality suffocated her.
Anne edged cautiously closer to the rim of the bare cliff. Her foot tapped the edge. It seemed solid. She stared into the darkness of the abyss at her feet. It echoed the shadows in her heart. An unusual curiosity took hold of her. Should she step ahead? What was down there? Other human bones? Another mystery? The presence of evil, creeping up and enveloping her, became almost palpable. The vines of fog folded around her, dragging her to the depth. Her throat turned dry, and she gasped for air.
Megan's face contorted, the voice no longer pleasant. A hoarse gurgle, spluttering distorted words, "Yes, come... I'm waiting... I've been waiting for you for such a long time..."
Buy Link: Wild Child Publishinghttp://www.wildchildpublishing.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=84&products_id=410
Buy Link: http://www.amazon.com/Shadows-of-the-Past-ebook/dp/B00AK2D9I8/ref=sr_1_15?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1354874514&sr=1-15&keywords=shadows+of+the+past
Buy Link: Barnes & Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/shadows-of-the-past-carmen-stefanescu/1113910162?ean=2940015715026
Author bio: Carmen Stefanescu resides in Romania, the native country of the infamous vampire Count Dracula, but where, for about 50 years of communist dictatorship, just speaking about God, faith, reincarnation or paranormal phenomena could have led someone to great trouble - the psychiatric hospital if not to prison.
Teacher of English and German in her native country and mother of two daughters, Carmen Stefanescu survived the grim years of oppression, by escaping in a parallel world, that of the books. She has dreamed all her life to become a writer, but many of the things she wrote during those years remained just drawer projects. The fall of the Ceausescu’s regime in 1989, and the opening of the country to the world meant a new beginning for her. She started publishing. Poems first, and then prose. Both in English.
Author’s Links Carmen Stefanescu's Site: http://shadowspastmystery.blogspot.ro/https://twitter.com/Carmen_Bookshttp://www.pinterest.com/carmens007/http://www.facebook.com/pages/Carmen-Stefanescu-Books/499245716760283http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6624397.Carmen_Stefanescuhttps://plus.google.com/117216040843648957646/postshttp://www.amazon.com/Carmen-Stefanescu/e/B00APVDGAA/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1http://askdavid.com/reviews/book/paranormal-romance/3196
March 24, 2015
Special Sale Pricing
Available here!
For a limited time only!! On sale for 99 CENTS!!
If you haven't read the first book in the River Rogues series, now is a great time to start! HER WICKED CAPTAIN is now available at the reduced price on all major retailers.
Read an excerpt:
Vaguely she heard a clink and the sound of a bottle stopper. Then whiskey vapors burned in her nose as the rim of a glass touched her lips. A warm hand held her jaw steady, then she swallowed the liquid fire.
Warmth surrounded her suddenly. She forced her eyes open and found she was wrapped in a soft blanket in the circle of Rory’s arms. He carried her to the middle of the bed and climbed beneath the covers with her. Her cheeks went hot, thinking him naked, until she felt the caress of fine cotton against her side and realized he’d put breeches on while her eyes had been shut. She wriggled to give him space.“Be still while I warm you.” His whispered command roused suspicion in her sluggish brain. How did he intend to do that? His hand rested on her bare stomach as his lips pressed against her neck. Delight curled through her as she felt the tip of his tongue trace her skin, his teeth grazing over her collarbone. His warm breath rushed out as he spoke across her, “I dreamt of you this way, but the reality is infinitely better.”His thoughtful ministrations were too much, causing her composure to crumble. With the help of the whiskey that he’d poured down her throat, she found her voice. “I’m sorry I ruined your g-game. I’m s-sorry about Molly’s dress, and—”“Philadelphia.” He pushed up on one elbow to look down at her, and his hair fell in shaggy waves around his face, reminding her of when he was an awkward youth. Charming. “That game meant nothing. It was supposed to be practice for you, and you were brilliant. The dress—I confess you were fetching in that dress, but I’ll buy Molly another. I’ll buy you scads more. I’m the one who should be apologizin’ for taking you there with little protection. I should grovel at your lovely feet.” He kissed the valley of her throat and his hair brushed her chin. He murmured, “Actually, I think I will.”The bed shifted under his weight and he disappeared underneath the blanket. She lifted her head to see what he was doing when his large form maneuvered beneath the covers. Again she wondered at his intentions until she felt his coarse hands curling around her calves and his lips on the soles of her feet.
She played right into his hands.
The River Rogues, Book 1
Possessing uncanny people-reading skills like her mama, Philadelphia “Dell” Samuels has spent thirteen years in her aunt’s rustic Ozarks home, telling fortunes over playing cards and trying to pass as white. But the treacherous Mississippi River childhood her mama dragged her away from finally catches up to her on a steamboat captained by her old friend Rory Campbell.
Known to his crew as the Devil’s Henchman, Rory is a gambler in need of a miracle. Following the cold trail of his boss’s wife and bastard daughter, Dell, Rory has only one goal in mind: saving his crew from the boss’s cruelty by ruining him. The only one who can defeat the Monster of the Mississippi is the man trained to take his place. Rory’s convinced he can lure his boss into a high-stakes game against a rival, and with Dell’s people-reading skills, the monster will lose everything.
Under Rory’s tutelage and protection, Dell agrees to the tortured captain’s plan. Passion and peril quickly bring them together as lovers. But when Rory’s plan goes awry, the lives of the innocent depend on Dell’s ability to read the situation correctly—and hopefully save them all.
Warning: There’s not enough moonshine on the Mississippi to keep this fortuneteller from saving The Devil’s Henchman, a high-stakes gambler—and her childhood friend—from his boss’s cruel attentions. Touches upon issues of child abuse, revenge, and redemption.
March 2, 2015
HIS CAPTIVE PRINCESS Goodreads Giveaway
In April, my medieval romance HIS CAPTIVE PRINCESS will be coming out in print and ebook! To celebrate, I'm giving away two SIGNED print copies before the book releases to two readers. All you have to do to enter the giveaway is visit the Goodreads link below. And if you would add my book HIS CAPTIVE PRINCESS to your "To Read" list, you'll be among the first to know when the book releases! ;-)
About the book:
Good luck!
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Goodreads Book Giveaway
His Captive Princess by Sandra Jones Giveaway ends April 26, 2015. See the giveaway details at Goodreads. Enter to win
January 12, 2015
Medieval Monday with Victoria Zak
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Each Monday starting with today, I'm hosting a new Medieval author's latest release here on Legendary Romance Blog. Today it's my pleasure to share author Victoria Zak's latest, HIGHLAND BURN. Is it HOT in here or what???
The Loch
Late summer of 1314
Medieval Scotland
Excerpt:The unsettled nature of Scotland had left Abigale hardened. She’d seen firsthand the aftermath of battles fought; mended wounds, prayed over dead bodies, and even buried the dead. The nunnery where she grew up would set up tents to aid those wounded in battle. Abigale would assist in surgery and her passion grew for healing the sick and mending wounds. Life was to be valued, not destroyed. In a way she blamed Lady Scotland for her misfortunes. Her father’s growing need to fight for Scotland had caused her to stay hidden, conceal her true identity, and grow up without a family. Her whole family had been affected by the battles fought for Scotland and the greed of claiming the crown. Though it was true she had long forgiven the Lady; she could not forget. The Highlander seemed far away in thought, because he took a while to answer. “Some would say I’m a Highlander.” He approached Abigale. “May I?” The beautiful stranger reached for a piece of hair that was stuck to her face and tucked it behind her ear. He brushed a callused finger down her cheek to her slender neck leaving a fiery path trailing behind. He held her stare and captivated her to the point that she could not form a coherent thought. Her body was no longer hers to control, her heart dropped, and desire pooled in her core setting her body on fire. This Highlander was so close to her she could feel his breath on her skin, she could smell his masculine scent and soon she wanted to taste his lips.
Highland Burn Book Blurb:Will Love’s Flame Quench the Dragon’s Fire? … The past never stays in the past, it rears its ugly head eventually. James the Black Douglas knows this all too well. With a past that has left him vengeful and his dragon blood thirsty, his reputation as a ruthless warrior haunts his enemies in their sleep. As his allegiance stands with Robert Bruce, the King of Scotland, he must now repay a debt to the king and agrees to marry his daughter, Abigale Bruce. The problem is he doesn’t want a wife. When flames start to burn out of control between him and the auburn-haired lass, he must decide to either kindle the flames of passion or shelter her from the truth and set her free.
It’s What Shines in the Dark That Brings Forth Your True Light…Determined to keep his daughter safe and out of the hands of the English, Robert hides Abigale behind the safe walls of a nunnery. After eight long years of living her life in seclusion, Abigale is finally set free. But her new found freedom comes to an abrupt halt when she learns of her betrothal to the infamous Bogeyman – James the Black Douglas. She soon finds herself falling in love with the uncontainable and haunted man. Is her love enough to soften his hardened heart?
Buy Links:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1qUrh7n
January 11, 2015
Get in the Loop with Sandra Jones
Photo source: K136608-e1359907081636.jpegHappy Sunday!
It's icy and cold here, so today I stayed inside and placed an order for some gorgeous postcards for my upcoming Medieval romance, HIS CAPTIVE PRINCESS. The cover is by Kim Killion, and it looks amazing with another strong, kick-butt heroine!
I should still have some cards left, but how can you get one? Simple. Just follow the link below and submit your name, email, and address. This will also put you on my newsletter subscriber list, where you'll get monthly news from me along with exclusive book excerpts, fun contests, and offers.
Enter your info here for my email newsletter and/or mailings.
I'd love to add you to our loop and send you some swag!
Best wishes,
Sandra
XOXO
January 5, 2015
Medieval Monday 2015!
Look for #MedievalMonday2015 on Twitter for the latest Medieval romances each week!
Two years ago, Avon published my short Medieval romance, HER CHRISTMAS KNIGHT in the anthology, FIVE GOLDEN RINGS. Since then, many of you have asked when you’ll get to read a full-length Medieval from me. Well, I’m so excited to share that this April my Medieval debut, HIS CAPTIVE PRINCESS, will be published by Samhain Publishing! The story is set in Norman-controlled Wales during the Anarchy of 1136, and its heroine is loosely based on the brave Princess Gwenllian.
To get ready for my full-length debut, I hope you’ll pick up a copy of FIVE GOLDEN RINGS and enjoy my story, HER CHRISTMAS KNIGHT, also set in Medieval Wales. The anthology also contains four short, historical romances set in various time periods and written by a few bestselling authors!
About my story:
In thirteenth century Wales, Lady Nia de Brionne and her wayward older sister have a fortnight to choose between suitors summoned to Castle Walwyn by their father, the Baron Guy de Brionne, as potential husbands. None of the gift-bearing noblemen can tempt sensible Nia, who lost her heart long ago before her sister’s exploits had brought her shame. Years earlier, Nia gave her love and fiery kisses to one boy alone. Now no other can claim her—until the last man to arrive for the holidays: the twelfth knight.
Sir Caerwyn came home from the Crusades just in time to grant his father’s dying wish, to return to the keep of his childhood mentor, De Brionne, and compete for the hand of one of his daughters. With two worthless rings as Christmas presents, Caerwyn hopes to make himself the last person the faithless pair would ever want to marry, but seeing Lady Nia again, he’s swept into the same feelings of longing, passion, and betrayal that sent him east, seeking early death at the end of a Saracen blade. When one of the Christmas guests tries to kill Nia, Caerwyn realizes that fighting his love for the beautiful woman may prove more formidable than any battle he’s known.
An Excerpt
In this brief excerpt, Lady Nia is confronting Caerwyn about his misconceptions regarding her supposed infidelity many years earlier:
He stepped away, leaving her still half-swallowed in the unfastened chain mail. God but she still stirred him, even dressed in pounds of armor. The shapeless form forced his eye to her beautiful face and made him long for the rest of her body hidden beneath. “Aye, you’ve become an excellent rider, skilled with a lance. But underneath all Padrig’s trappings, you’re still female.”“I practice at the quintain more days than not, and I’m a good horsewoman. There was no combat in the event, so I was never in any danger. You must admit I convinced you.” Her face brightened and she stood straighter. “I’m sure you would say it was Serena’s influence again. Just like three years ago, the last night in our keep, before you left. You and I were to meet. When you arrived I wasn’t alone…”His chest tightened. He’d kept the memory at bay for too long to let her remind him. He barked, “Now you want to tease me! Aye, you deceived me today, and you betrayed me then. What point are you trying to make?” Mayhap she enjoyed pushing the knife deeper into his heart. “Caerwyn, you’ve never believed me, but I’ll say it again. I’ve never been with another man. Look,” she turned her back to him, gathering her braids in one hand and twisting them up to hold on top of her head. “Do I look like a woman from behind now?”“You know you do not.”“I practice in mail often. My father disapproves, of course. Serena’s worn it only once. In armor, she would look like a man from behind, don’t you think?” She moved closer to the bed, took hold of the thick banister. When she glanced over her shoulder at him, the sight of her posture, so sensual, so seductive, yet so unpracticed…sweat glistened on his brow.
“Aye. I suppose…”
Purchase FIVE GOLDEN RINGS at the following:
Amazon Barnes and NobleKoboGoodreads
Comment, leave a question, or visit me at my website, blog, Twitter, Facebook, or Pinterest. Sign up for my newsletter for the latest news on my books, exclusive excerpts, and contests: Sandra’s newsletter
Two years ago, Avon published my short Medieval romance, HER CHRISTMAS KNIGHT in the anthology, FIVE GOLDEN RINGS. Since then, many of you have asked when you’ll get to read a full-length Medieval from me. Well, I’m so excited to share that this April my Medieval debut, HIS CAPTIVE PRINCESS, will be published by Samhain Publishing! The story is set in Norman-controlled Wales during the Anarchy of 1136, and its heroine is loosely based on the brave Princess Gwenllian.
To get ready for my full-length debut, I hope you’ll pick up a copy of FIVE GOLDEN RINGS and enjoy my story, HER CHRISTMAS KNIGHT, also set in Medieval Wales. The anthology also contains four short, historical romances set in various time periods and written by a few bestselling authors!
About my story:
In thirteenth century Wales, Lady Nia de Brionne and her wayward older sister have a fortnight to choose between suitors summoned to Castle Walwyn by their father, the Baron Guy de Brionne, as potential husbands. None of the gift-bearing noblemen can tempt sensible Nia, who lost her heart long ago before her sister’s exploits had brought her shame. Years earlier, Nia gave her love and fiery kisses to one boy alone. Now no other can claim her—until the last man to arrive for the holidays: the twelfth knight.
Sir Caerwyn came home from the Crusades just in time to grant his father’s dying wish, to return to the keep of his childhood mentor, De Brionne, and compete for the hand of one of his daughters. With two worthless rings as Christmas presents, Caerwyn hopes to make himself the last person the faithless pair would ever want to marry, but seeing Lady Nia again, he’s swept into the same feelings of longing, passion, and betrayal that sent him east, seeking early death at the end of a Saracen blade. When one of the Christmas guests tries to kill Nia, Caerwyn realizes that fighting his love for the beautiful woman may prove more formidable than any battle he’s known.
An Excerpt
In this brief excerpt, Lady Nia is confronting Caerwyn about his misconceptions regarding her supposed infidelity many years earlier:
He stepped away, leaving her still half-swallowed in the unfastened chain mail. God but she still stirred him, even dressed in pounds of armor. The shapeless form forced his eye to her beautiful face and made him long for the rest of her body hidden beneath. “Aye, you’ve become an excellent rider, skilled with a lance. But underneath all Padrig’s trappings, you’re still female.”“I practice at the quintain more days than not, and I’m a good horsewoman. There was no combat in the event, so I was never in any danger. You must admit I convinced you.” Her face brightened and she stood straighter. “I’m sure you would say it was Serena’s influence again. Just like three years ago, the last night in our keep, before you left. You and I were to meet. When you arrived I wasn’t alone…”His chest tightened. He’d kept the memory at bay for too long to let her remind him. He barked, “Now you want to tease me! Aye, you deceived me today, and you betrayed me then. What point are you trying to make?” Mayhap she enjoyed pushing the knife deeper into his heart. “Caerwyn, you’ve never believed me, but I’ll say it again. I’ve never been with another man. Look,” she turned her back to him, gathering her braids in one hand and twisting them up to hold on top of her head. “Do I look like a woman from behind now?”“You know you do not.”“I practice in mail often. My father disapproves, of course. Serena’s worn it only once. In armor, she would look like a man from behind, don’t you think?” She moved closer to the bed, took hold of the thick banister. When she glanced over her shoulder at him, the sight of her posture, so sensual, so seductive, yet so unpracticed…sweat glistened on his brow.
“Aye. I suppose…”
Purchase FIVE GOLDEN RINGS at the following:
Amazon Barnes and NobleKoboGoodreads
Comment, leave a question, or visit me at my website, blog, Twitter, Facebook, or Pinterest. Sign up for my newsletter for the latest news on my books, exclusive excerpts, and contests: Sandra’s newsletter
January 4, 2015
Soiled Dove--A Snippet Sunday
It's been a while since I've posted a snippet, so I thought it was high time I shared one again. Today's Snippet Sunday comes from the prologue to Book 2 of the River Rogues. HER MOST WANTED is Kit Wainwright's story, a gunslinger we meet in HER WICKED CAPTAIN, The River Rogues Bk 1 (Samhain/November 4 2014). This snippet belongs to the heroine, Cora Riley, a "soiled dove" and owner of a frontier town bordello!
The gun, still warm from shooting the sheriff, fit just right against Cora Lynn Riley’s ribs, wedged beneath her breasts between her corset and her blouse. Her heart thundered like a cannonball as she looked for a way to exit the room that wouldn’t require going near the body on the floor, but unfortunately, there wasn’t one. The sound of the blast would likely bring someone upstairs to check on the man, and she couldn’t be caught alone with him.
Balancing on her toes to miss the blood spreading across the boards and with her skirt spanning Bill Sidlow’s bloated thighs, she stepped over the first booted leg. Then lifting her hem to avoid dragging her petticoat across the man’s torso, now damp and crimson, she set her left foot down with care between his side and his spread-eagle arm.
Don’t look, don’t look. But morbid curiosity got the better of her. She had to be absolutely certain the bastard was dead, so she glanced down at Sidlow’s face.
If you don't already have Book One, HER WICKED CAPTAIN, you can find buy links here: www.SandraJonesRomance.com
The gun, still warm from shooting the sheriff, fit just right against Cora Lynn Riley’s ribs, wedged beneath her breasts between her corset and her blouse. Her heart thundered like a cannonball as she looked for a way to exit the room that wouldn’t require going near the body on the floor, but unfortunately, there wasn’t one. The sound of the blast would likely bring someone upstairs to check on the man, and she couldn’t be caught alone with him.
Balancing on her toes to miss the blood spreading across the boards and with her skirt spanning Bill Sidlow’s bloated thighs, she stepped over the first booted leg. Then lifting her hem to avoid dragging her petticoat across the man’s torso, now damp and crimson, she set her left foot down with care between his side and his spread-eagle arm.
Don’t look, don’t look. But morbid curiosity got the better of her. She had to be absolutely certain the bastard was dead, so she glanced down at Sidlow’s face.
If you don't already have Book One, HER WICKED CAPTAIN, you can find buy links here: www.SandraJonesRomance.com
January 1, 2015
Happy "Mari Lwyd," or New Year to You!
HAPPY NEW YEAR, or Mari Lwyd, as in the Welsh tradition, from a crusty old Welsh dame--me. LOL! As usual I stayed up as long as I could (10:30 pm!) last night, then got up at 5:00 am without an alarm. Yeah, I'm of that age, I suppose.
I just thought I'd share a New Year's tradition from the Welsh, the country of my forefathers and the setting for some of my medieval romance novels, including my next release this April, HIS CAPTIVE PRINCESS.
New Year's Day is the day in which Mari Lwyd or Grey Mare day is celebrated.
Mari Lwyd (photo by Andy DingleIt's a bit frightening, but in some parts, the Welsh still follow the old ritual of visiting door-to-door (often pubs) with a fellow wearing a sheet and a horse's head!!! Participants sing, hoping to gain access to the house and be rewarded with food and drink. The ritual is ancient, said to have begun by worshippers of the Celtic goddess Rhiannon and has continued throughout the centuries.
The start of the ritual often takes place Christmas week, a bit like wassailing, but begins around 2pm on New Year's Day in some parts of Wales.
Um, I'm not sure I'd let any drunken singers into my house, especially if they were in possession of a horse's skull, but who knows? I'm all about extending the holiday season if it involves wassail!
Either way, Happy New Year's, everyone!
--Sandra
December 11, 2014
Currier & Ives Christmas Memories
One of my favorite things about Christmas is how we seem to embrace the past--whether it's reliving old times, singing familiar carols, or reminiscing about old ornaments. Each year when I see a Currier & Ives print, I'm immediately thrown back to days of my childhood: to visiting my granny's home in the Ouachita Mountains of Arkansas, her wood stove, outhouse, farm, and those deep snows on the ground.
Currier & Ives made scenes from all over the United States. While researching steamboats, I ran across this lovely old print. To me, it looks like a chilly winter night!
I've collected several Currier & Ives dishes that I display. This plate always reminded me of my Granny's house when I first caught sight of it at the end of her road.
Do you have any "Currier & Ives" memories? Or just like their prints in general?
Currier & Ives made scenes from all over the United States. While researching steamboats, I ran across this lovely old print. To me, it looks like a chilly winter night!
I've collected several Currier & Ives dishes that I display. This plate always reminded me of my Granny's house when I first caught sight of it at the end of her road.
Do you have any "Currier & Ives" memories? Or just like their prints in general?
December 9, 2014
Guest Post: Burnin' Up Memphis by Delilah Devlin
I'm delighted to share a "smokin' hot" excerpt today from the latest book by my amazing friend, Delilah Devlin!
Burnin’ Up Memphis by Delilah Devlin
She’s the one fire he may not be able to control.
Firehouse 69, Book 1
When a roof collapse kills his best friend and his girlfriend clears out his apartment and leaves, firefighter John Cooper knows he shouldn’t sit alone in his empty apartment. But when he accepts an invitation to Club LaForge, his feet get colder with every step he takes inside.
The sights, sounds and smells of the BDSM club make him sweat, and not because he’s turned off. Yet he can’t bring himself to admit—to himself, or to his luscious guide, Moira—that this lifestyle might just be what he needs.
An experienced BDSM trainer, Moira senses that Coop is not only a Dom in the making, but exactly what she’s been looking for. A man to be her lover and her Dom. The only problem is, Coop isn’t looking for anything complicated.
Moira’s willing to start slow and easy, but even once there’s enough trust to bring Coop into her world—and to her Dom—she’s still worried he’ll look for the nearest exit.
Warning: Do you smell smoke? Don’t worry, it’s just a hot and sexy firefighter getting down and dirty. Contains BDSM scenes, ropes, floggers, some spanking, some sharing, and some five-alarm sex.
Buy here: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Samhain | Kobo | iTunes
Excerpt:
One of the crappiest shifts of firefighter John “Coop” Cooper’s life took another nosedive when his lieutenant caught him before he’d even had a chance to drop his turnout gear after their latest run. With sooty sweat stinging his eyes and his suspenders half-up half-down, he sighed as the LT curled his fingers, beckoning him over.Coop knew exactly what this was about, and despite his fatigue, his mind zipped through all the possible excuses he could muster to escape.“You’re the last one,” Lieutenant Knox Triplett said, his face hard and his hazel gaze narrowing on Coop.Used to be that Coop cared about pleasing Knox. He’d strove to be first to his gear and into the truck, first in the door of a burning building, and was careful never to fuck up a room-to-room search. He’d cared about being the best firefighter he could be. But lately, he’d just been showing up, going through the motions. Doing what he had to do to get through the shift.Knox had been patient, his gazes merciful and sympathetic. But it looked as though he’d reached the end of his tether so far as Coop was concerned.Coop wished he could feel anger or shame. But all he could muster was irritation. He wanted out of the station. The shift was nearly over and he had to dodge this bullet one more time. “The last one? You sure about that?” Coop asked, not bothering to look Knox in the eye.Knox tapped his clipboard. “I asked for a hundred percent cooperation with the internal investigation, with the NIOSH assholes. Don’t know what it is with you guys. This should be the easy part. The counselor’s here to help you.”Coop raked a hand through his hair. “That’s the point, LT. I don’t need his help. I’m tired of talking about it.”A muscle tensed in the side of the LT’s jaw. “Let me make this simple. If you don’t make time to see Russell, I’m putting you on suspension.”Coop cussed under his breath. By Knox’s stern tone, Coop knew the LT wasn’t bluffing. “Where is he?” he grumbled.“The conference room. Don’t bother showering. No more stalling.” Finally, his stern expression eased. “Just get it over with, Coop. You’re not the only one who lost a friend. We’re here for you.” He reached out and awkwardly patted Coop’s shoulder and then tilted his head toward the corridor. Compassion and firmness. The LT never slacked. He took his job seriously.“Let me drop my gear,” Coop mumbled. He turned back to the truck and took his sweet time stripping off his boots and trousers.“Don’t worry about cleaning it,” Noah, the engine driver, said as he came around the side of the vehicle. “I’ve got you covered. No need to piss the LT off any further.”How many people had heard their conversation? Coop didn’t bother looking around to see. He nodded and turned toward the corridor.“Hey,” Noah called after him. “Some of the guys are going with Billy to his club tonight. Why not join us?”Noah meant well. All the men did. They’d tiptoed around him, given him time and space to handle his grief. But Coop had turned down every invitation for drinks and even for Saturday football . “Think I’ll pass,” he muttered. He fisted his hands at his sides and strode down the corridor.Farley Russell was seated at the table in the conference room, a pen in hand and a folder opened in front of him. The bristles of his buzz cut shone gold in the fluorescent light. He glanced up when Coop entered the room and gave him a half-smile when he slumped into a chair. “We’ll make this quick. Unless you need to talk.”Coop shook his head and tightened his lips.“How you sleeping, Coop?”“Just fine.” If waking up in a cold sweat night after night was fine.Russell gave a soft snort and his lips twisted. “Knox says you haven’t been performing up to your previous level. That you seem to be operating on automatic.”Coop shifted on his chair and strummed his fingers on the tabletop . He couldn’t make his impatience any clearer. “I haven’t fucked up.”“Yet.” Russell made some notes in the folder and then closed it and clasped his hands together, resting them atop the sheaf of notes. “Truitt was your friend,” he said carefully and without any emotion.Something Coop appreciated. He was done with the looks and the soft voices. He grunted. Danny Truitt had been more than just a friend. The two of them had attended high school together, had applied and been accepted to the same firefighter academy class. They’d jockeyed hard to win spots in the same firehouse, which had taken a couple of years, and then they’d spent eight years with the same crew in Firehouse 69.Their bunks had been side-by-side. Their lockers too. They’d double-dated. Coop had stood as Danny’s best man when he’d married Melody.And it had been Coop who had hoisted up Danny’s body from the wreckage of the roof that had collapsed when they’d vented it during an apartment fire.The moment he’d gotten Danny to the ground and pushed off his SCBA mask was forever imprinted on his mind. Danny’s irrepressible grin, even in the worst circumstances, had been forever wiped away.“I’ve read the report. Talked to the other firefighters who worked that fire. You were in the middle of it, a step away from joining Danny in that hole. You can’t blame yourself. You could just as easily have died.”And he should have. Coop’s fingers curled tightly. Danny had a wife and a kid on the way. Other than Danny and his buddies in the firehouse, no one would have missed Coop. No one depended on him.“You’ve been hard to nail into a chair.” Russell’s smile was thin, but his brown eyes were steady, probing. He’d been a firefighter until he’d been sidelined with a back injury. He knew what it was like in the firehouse. The fact he’d had some college gave him a new lease. Now he helped other firefighters in crisis.All Coop had was this job. This house. He had no family. His mother died when he was still in diapers, and his dad had died of cancer during Coop’s senior year of high school. And now, he’d lost his best friend. But because he was part of this house, he was holding it together—if just barely. Even though he knew Russell wasn’t some psychologist sitting in an ivory tower, studying him like he was a case and not a man, he still didn’t feel like spilling his guts. “I’m handling it,” he said, his voice a growl, something he didn’t intend, but he didn’t really care if he hurt Russell’s feelings. He didn’t want to be here. How much clearer could he make that fact known?Russell sighed. “Look, I won’t keep you. I’ll check you off the list.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, which he handed to Coop. “You’ve met your LT’s requirements, but if you ever need to talk—doesn’t have to be about the fire or Danny Truitt—I’m here.”Reluctantly, Coop took it. He curved his hand around it, bending it. He’d toss it when he left. No need to be ruder than he’d already been. Russell just wanted to help.But Coop didn’t want help. Didn’t deserve it. “We done?”Russell nodded, and Coop shot up out of the chair. He checked himself at the door and gave the other man a nod before escaping. Once outside the room, he breathed deeply. A shower. Then home. Maybe Christa would be happy enough seeing him to give him a quick fuck before he slept for a day.But when he entered the locker room, his footsteps became leaden again, his shoulders weighed down. He approached his locker, trying not to look to the right. A splotch of bright white snagged his gaze. The stenciled plate with the name Truitt etched across it was gone, replaced by a white slash of tape, the name Harris printed in Magic Marker.Coop sucked in a deep breath and then exploded in anger, his closed fist slamming against the door and leaving a concave dent. Dammit, there were other empty lockers that weren’t Danny’s. What the fuck?“Better to rip it off like a Band-Aid,” came Knox’s voice from the doorway, sounding hollow in the small room. “We have a replacement. He’ll be here Monday morning.”Coop didn’t bother turning. With his shoulders stiff, he listened as the LT’s footsteps faded away before he opened his own locker.A fuck, maybe two. Maybe he’d get shitfaced, although inwardly he cringed at the memory of the last conversation he’d had with Christa. He’d been drunk, and remembered she’d threatened to leave him. They’d been together for three years on and off, and the sex was still great.“You never talk to me.”So what was new? They’d landed in bed the first night they’d met. Conversation wasn’t what they were about.Coop stripped and stuffed his dirty clothes into the laundry sack to take home. He’d shower, just like he had hundreds of times. He’d go home. Come Monday, he’d be back, facing some other asshole trying to take Danny’s place. He slammed his locker shut.
No one could replace Danny. He rubbed his chest over his heart, but it didn’t diminish the pain, the constant ache. The guilt. Weary now, he shuffled to the shower. All he needed was a fuck, a beer and a night of dreamless sleep.
About Delilah Devlin
Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of erotica and erotic romance with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing deliciously edgy stories with complex characters. She has published over a hundred thirty erotic stories in multiple genres and lengths. She is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Montlake Romance, Running Press and Samhain Publishing. Find out more about Delilah at www.delilahdevlin.com.
Subscribe to my newsletter: https://madmimi.com/signups/39641/joinFavorite my Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Delilah-Devlin/e/B001IODMCA/
Like my Facebook Author Page: http://www.facebook.com/DelilahDevlinFanPage
Follow me on Twitter: @DelilahDevlin http://twitter.com/DelilahDevlin
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Burnin’ Up Memphis by Delilah Devlin
She’s the one fire he may not be able to control.
Firehouse 69, Book 1
When a roof collapse kills his best friend and his girlfriend clears out his apartment and leaves, firefighter John Cooper knows he shouldn’t sit alone in his empty apartment. But when he accepts an invitation to Club LaForge, his feet get colder with every step he takes inside.
The sights, sounds and smells of the BDSM club make him sweat, and not because he’s turned off. Yet he can’t bring himself to admit—to himself, or to his luscious guide, Moira—that this lifestyle might just be what he needs.
An experienced BDSM trainer, Moira senses that Coop is not only a Dom in the making, but exactly what she’s been looking for. A man to be her lover and her Dom. The only problem is, Coop isn’t looking for anything complicated.
Moira’s willing to start slow and easy, but even once there’s enough trust to bring Coop into her world—and to her Dom—she’s still worried he’ll look for the nearest exit.
Warning: Do you smell smoke? Don’t worry, it’s just a hot and sexy firefighter getting down and dirty. Contains BDSM scenes, ropes, floggers, some spanking, some sharing, and some five-alarm sex.
Buy here: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Samhain | Kobo | iTunes
Excerpt:
One of the crappiest shifts of firefighter John “Coop” Cooper’s life took another nosedive when his lieutenant caught him before he’d even had a chance to drop his turnout gear after their latest run. With sooty sweat stinging his eyes and his suspenders half-up half-down, he sighed as the LT curled his fingers, beckoning him over.Coop knew exactly what this was about, and despite his fatigue, his mind zipped through all the possible excuses he could muster to escape.“You’re the last one,” Lieutenant Knox Triplett said, his face hard and his hazel gaze narrowing on Coop.Used to be that Coop cared about pleasing Knox. He’d strove to be first to his gear and into the truck, first in the door of a burning building, and was careful never to fuck up a room-to-room search. He’d cared about being the best firefighter he could be. But lately, he’d just been showing up, going through the motions. Doing what he had to do to get through the shift.Knox had been patient, his gazes merciful and sympathetic. But it looked as though he’d reached the end of his tether so far as Coop was concerned.Coop wished he could feel anger or shame. But all he could muster was irritation. He wanted out of the station. The shift was nearly over and he had to dodge this bullet one more time. “The last one? You sure about that?” Coop asked, not bothering to look Knox in the eye.Knox tapped his clipboard. “I asked for a hundred percent cooperation with the internal investigation, with the NIOSH assholes. Don’t know what it is with you guys. This should be the easy part. The counselor’s here to help you.”Coop raked a hand through his hair. “That’s the point, LT. I don’t need his help. I’m tired of talking about it.”A muscle tensed in the side of the LT’s jaw. “Let me make this simple. If you don’t make time to see Russell, I’m putting you on suspension.”Coop cussed under his breath. By Knox’s stern tone, Coop knew the LT wasn’t bluffing. “Where is he?” he grumbled.“The conference room. Don’t bother showering. No more stalling.” Finally, his stern expression eased. “Just get it over with, Coop. You’re not the only one who lost a friend. We’re here for you.” He reached out and awkwardly patted Coop’s shoulder and then tilted his head toward the corridor. Compassion and firmness. The LT never slacked. He took his job seriously.“Let me drop my gear,” Coop mumbled. He turned back to the truck and took his sweet time stripping off his boots and trousers.“Don’t worry about cleaning it,” Noah, the engine driver, said as he came around the side of the vehicle. “I’ve got you covered. No need to piss the LT off any further.”How many people had heard their conversation? Coop didn’t bother looking around to see. He nodded and turned toward the corridor.“Hey,” Noah called after him. “Some of the guys are going with Billy to his club tonight. Why not join us?”Noah meant well. All the men did. They’d tiptoed around him, given him time and space to handle his grief. But Coop had turned down every invitation for drinks and even for Saturday football . “Think I’ll pass,” he muttered. He fisted his hands at his sides and strode down the corridor.Farley Russell was seated at the table in the conference room, a pen in hand and a folder opened in front of him. The bristles of his buzz cut shone gold in the fluorescent light. He glanced up when Coop entered the room and gave him a half-smile when he slumped into a chair. “We’ll make this quick. Unless you need to talk.”Coop shook his head and tightened his lips.“How you sleeping, Coop?”“Just fine.” If waking up in a cold sweat night after night was fine.Russell gave a soft snort and his lips twisted. “Knox says you haven’t been performing up to your previous level. That you seem to be operating on automatic.”Coop shifted on his chair and strummed his fingers on the tabletop . He couldn’t make his impatience any clearer. “I haven’t fucked up.”“Yet.” Russell made some notes in the folder and then closed it and clasped his hands together, resting them atop the sheaf of notes. “Truitt was your friend,” he said carefully and without any emotion.Something Coop appreciated. He was done with the looks and the soft voices. He grunted. Danny Truitt had been more than just a friend. The two of them had attended high school together, had applied and been accepted to the same firefighter academy class. They’d jockeyed hard to win spots in the same firehouse, which had taken a couple of years, and then they’d spent eight years with the same crew in Firehouse 69.Their bunks had been side-by-side. Their lockers too. They’d double-dated. Coop had stood as Danny’s best man when he’d married Melody.And it had been Coop who had hoisted up Danny’s body from the wreckage of the roof that had collapsed when they’d vented it during an apartment fire.The moment he’d gotten Danny to the ground and pushed off his SCBA mask was forever imprinted on his mind. Danny’s irrepressible grin, even in the worst circumstances, had been forever wiped away.“I’ve read the report. Talked to the other firefighters who worked that fire. You were in the middle of it, a step away from joining Danny in that hole. You can’t blame yourself. You could just as easily have died.”And he should have. Coop’s fingers curled tightly. Danny had a wife and a kid on the way. Other than Danny and his buddies in the firehouse, no one would have missed Coop. No one depended on him.“You’ve been hard to nail into a chair.” Russell’s smile was thin, but his brown eyes were steady, probing. He’d been a firefighter until he’d been sidelined with a back injury. He knew what it was like in the firehouse. The fact he’d had some college gave him a new lease. Now he helped other firefighters in crisis.All Coop had was this job. This house. He had no family. His mother died when he was still in diapers, and his dad had died of cancer during Coop’s senior year of high school. And now, he’d lost his best friend. But because he was part of this house, he was holding it together—if just barely. Even though he knew Russell wasn’t some psychologist sitting in an ivory tower, studying him like he was a case and not a man, he still didn’t feel like spilling his guts. “I’m handling it,” he said, his voice a growl, something he didn’t intend, but he didn’t really care if he hurt Russell’s feelings. He didn’t want to be here. How much clearer could he make that fact known?Russell sighed. “Look, I won’t keep you. I’ll check you off the list.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, which he handed to Coop. “You’ve met your LT’s requirements, but if you ever need to talk—doesn’t have to be about the fire or Danny Truitt—I’m here.”Reluctantly, Coop took it. He curved his hand around it, bending it. He’d toss it when he left. No need to be ruder than he’d already been. Russell just wanted to help.But Coop didn’t want help. Didn’t deserve it. “We done?”Russell nodded, and Coop shot up out of the chair. He checked himself at the door and gave the other man a nod before escaping. Once outside the room, he breathed deeply. A shower. Then home. Maybe Christa would be happy enough seeing him to give him a quick fuck before he slept for a day.But when he entered the locker room, his footsteps became leaden again, his shoulders weighed down. He approached his locker, trying not to look to the right. A splotch of bright white snagged his gaze. The stenciled plate with the name Truitt etched across it was gone, replaced by a white slash of tape, the name Harris printed in Magic Marker.Coop sucked in a deep breath and then exploded in anger, his closed fist slamming against the door and leaving a concave dent. Dammit, there were other empty lockers that weren’t Danny’s. What the fuck?“Better to rip it off like a Band-Aid,” came Knox’s voice from the doorway, sounding hollow in the small room. “We have a replacement. He’ll be here Monday morning.”Coop didn’t bother turning. With his shoulders stiff, he listened as the LT’s footsteps faded away before he opened his own locker.A fuck, maybe two. Maybe he’d get shitfaced, although inwardly he cringed at the memory of the last conversation he’d had with Christa. He’d been drunk, and remembered she’d threatened to leave him. They’d been together for three years on and off, and the sex was still great.“You never talk to me.”So what was new? They’d landed in bed the first night they’d met. Conversation wasn’t what they were about.Coop stripped and stuffed his dirty clothes into the laundry sack to take home. He’d shower, just like he had hundreds of times. He’d go home. Come Monday, he’d be back, facing some other asshole trying to take Danny’s place. He slammed his locker shut.
No one could replace Danny. He rubbed his chest over his heart, but it didn’t diminish the pain, the constant ache. The guilt. Weary now, he shuffled to the shower. All he needed was a fuck, a beer and a night of dreamless sleep.
About Delilah Devlin
Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of erotica and erotic romance with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing deliciously edgy stories with complex characters. She has published over a hundred thirty erotic stories in multiple genres and lengths. She is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Montlake Romance, Running Press and Samhain Publishing. Find out more about Delilah at www.delilahdevlin.com.
Subscribe to my newsletter: https://madmimi.com/signups/39641/joinFavorite my Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Delilah-Devlin/e/B001IODMCA/
Like my Facebook Author Page: http://www.facebook.com/DelilahDevlinFanPage
Follow me on Twitter: @DelilahDevlin http://twitter.com/DelilahDevlin
Check out my Pinterest boards: http://pinterest.com/delilahdevlin/
