Sandra Jones's Blog, page 5
October 1, 2014
Guest Post--Megan Mitcham!
I'd like to say a big ole', "Thank you," to my writing pal, Sandra Jones for hosing me. I'm so over the moon to be here today and thrilled about the release of the first three novels in the Base Branch Series (Yes, that's three novels released in one day...today!) I'm revealing all. Okay, maybe not all. How about a bit? No, not a mid-drift or a scintillating thigh. That's reserved for the sunny beach, not the internet. I will, however, reveal an excerpt form Enemy Mine, Base Branch Novel 1. Ptsss! It's not the part you'd see on the Amazon preview, if you looked. It's from chapter 8, if I remember correctly. And it's good, if I do say so myself. Enjoy the men and women of the Base Branch! Be sure to leave a comment and let me know your favorite romantic suspense troupe. You'll be entered into a drawing for a $5 Amazon gift card.
The Base Branch Series
Serve in the name of honor. B
attle in the name of love.
Known by few as the Base Branch, the United Nations’ Special Operations Forces provide globe defense against any who threaten the fragile balance of peace.
ENEMY MINEWhen friends become enemies and enemies become lovers.Born in the blood of Sierra Leone’s Civil War, enslaved, then sold to the US as an orphan, Base Branch operative, Sloan Harris is emotionally dead and driven by vengeance. With no soul to give, her body becomes the bargaining chip to infiltrate a warlord’s inner circle, the man called The Devil who killed her family and helped destroy a region.As son of the warlord, Baine Kendrick will happily use Sloan’s body, if it expedites his father’s demise. Yet, he is wholly unprepared for the possessive and protective emotions she provokes. Maybe it’s the flashes of memory. Two forgotten children drawing in the dirt beneath the boabab tree. But he fears there is more at stake than his life.In the Devil’s den with Baine by her side, Sloan braves certain death and discovers a spirit for living.
EXCERPT Stroke. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke. Stroke. Breathe. Sloan’s sun flushed skin prickled quickly in the cool water. For the next twenty minutes, she focused on the rhythm. She released every concern from her mind and swam. No, in hooker mode her legs couldn’t kick as furiously as she wanted nor arms stroke as hard, but her muscles still sang. The effort gave her brain a welcomed respite from the restless night. Covert work had always been Sloan’s forte. Morphing into someone else. Hiding who she was. What she’d endured. But this assignment held in the balance every desire she’d clung to since the day she’d quit mourning her parents and started fighting, everything she’d thought beyond her grasp after so long struggling to make it a reality. This assignment had also tapped a well of emotion she’d thought long ago drained. “Nice stroke.” His voice destroyed her solitude. The dark timbre resonated down Sloan’s spine like a cellist’s bow being dragged across the C string. A fresh wave of gooseflesh crested over her. She curled the water’s surface and turned toward Baine. Words froze in her throat. Thick and unruly dark hair cropped neatly around his ears, but dipped and swayed wildly at his forehead. The perfect handle for screwing. Jezuz. If that one wasn’t enticing enough, the swells and dips of his traps, shoulders, and biceps provided a feast of options to grip while riding the sculpted V of his hips. Everywhere she looked his swarthy skin wrapped taut—over a defined eight pack, thick and sturdy legs, corded forearms. The short crinkles of brown hair that peppered across his chest and peeked out from the waist of his swim trunks sizzled her brain. “Thank you.” Sloan aimed for courteous and non-solicitous, tamping down the resentment, warring curiosity, and wicked lust he stirred inside her with every bit of self-control she possessed. The bespoke suit he’d worn so well the night before had been traded for charcoal swim trunks and a towel slung over one shoulder. He moved toward her with grace that belied his bulk, before dropping his towel on the chaise next to hers. Of all the chairs and loungers in the place, he’d chosen the only occupied lounger on the entire patio. The act, though in all likelihood innocent, rang in Sloan’s ears like a war cry. A deliberate move in a complicated game of chess. Having just finished her laps, his timing was too perfect to be coincidence. Baine turned and settled his gaze on her. Sloan searched for any sign of recognition in the sky blue orbs, in the tautness of his square jaw, or the furrow of his brow, and found none. Good.If he recognized her, the mission would be ruined. Not that she’d live to see the fallout. It was good that his eyes hadn’t alighted with remembrance, but heedless of the boon, emptiness pitted her belly. Every battle honed instinct screamed for Sloan to retreat. In submission, she pushed off the bottom and glided to the stone outcropping only a few feet away from the enigma that was Baine Kendrick. She should hate him on sight. Anger roiled just under the surface, but the sudden and undeniable physical awareness of him played bumper-cars with the ire and her brain. “It’s all yours,” she said, levering herself out of the water. Thousands of droplets rained off her body, and Baine’s intent study likely cataloged each. Like a damn schoolgirl, her cheeks heated. “That’s good,” he said. A smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. Then he added, “I think you would put me to shame in a proper race.” Sloan shook her head, unable to speak. The twinge of memory of two forgotten children racing over the green grass was too sweet and painful to rouse. He held out a towel, and she forced her feet to close the distance. Proximity sent a jolt of electricity coursing through her, similar to the energy that surged before a fight, but different. She swallowed hard, struggling to ignore the nuance, which made her hyper aware she wore only strategically placed strips of spandex. When her fingers closed around the terry cloth, Lana and Cynthia came ambling through the doorway onto the patio. Their conversation quieted once they saw her and Baine. The women waved. “Good morning, ladies.” They beamed at him as they walked by, then settled on side-by-side lounges at the opposite end of the row. Sloan nodded and soaked up the excess moisture from her hair and body in preparation for her escape. She secured the towel around her body with a tuck of its tail at the top of her breast, and gave him the best smile she could muster. “Enjoy the—” “Lotion me,” he asked. Though his tone made it sound like more like a command. Sloan turned a palm up. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any.” She motioned toward the other women. “They might have some, and I’m sure they’d happily help.” “And you wouldn’t,” he countered. While she sputtered, something she didn’t recall ever having done in her life, he reached across her to a side table and plucked a tube from a decorative bowl. His body came so close to hers the heat he radiated seeped into her marrow. As he retreated, the dusting of dark hair on his chest tickled her arm. “Here,” he said, slapping the lotion into her hand. He sat on the end of the chaise, elbows on his knees. Hunching didn’t diminish his presence in the least. In fact, it drew Sloan’s attention to the sloping topography of his chest and the spread of his shoulders, which dwarfed the chair under him. When she didn’t move he tilted his chin up and directed her behind him with a thick arm. She circled him in a wide arc, but surrendered, tucking behind him on the hard wood. Clinically, like she treated a field wound, Sloan uncapped the sunscreen, deposited a dollop on her palm and began rubbing it onto his back. From his nape she worked her way out over his shoulders, denying the tingle the friction created below her waist. Until he leaned into her touch.
Megan Mitcham was born and raised among the live oaks and shrimp boats of the Mississippi Gulf Coast, where her enormous family still calls home. She attended college at the University of Southern Mississippi where she received a bachelor's degree in curriculum, instruction, and special education. For several years Megan worked as a teacher in Mississippi. She married and moved to South Carolina and began working for an international non-profit organization as an instructor and co-director.
In 2009 Megan fell in love with books. Until then, books had been a source for research or the topic of tests. But one day she read Mercy by Julie Garwood. And oh, Mercy, she was hooked!Megan lives in Southern Arkansas where she pens heart pounding romantic thriller novels and window-steaming erotic romance.
Author links:http://www.meganmitcham.com/ (Subscribe to my newsletter for more contests, sneak peeks, and ARC's!)https://www.facebook.com/meganmitchamauthorhttps://twitter.com/MeganMMMitchamhttps://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6552758.Megan_Mitchamhttp://www.pinterest.com/meganmitcham5/
ENEMY MINEWhen friends become enemies and enemies become lovers.Born in the blood of Sierra Leone’s Civil War, enslaved, then sold to the US as an orphan, Base Branch operative, Sloan Harris is emotionally dead and driven by vengeance. With no soul to give, her body becomes the bargaining chip to infiltrate a warlord’s inner circle, the man called The Devil who killed her family and helped destroy a region.As son of the warlord, Baine Kendrick will happily use Sloan’s body, if it expedites his father’s demise. Yet, he is wholly unprepared for the possessive and protective emotions she provokes. Maybe it’s the flashes of memory. Two forgotten children drawing in the dirt beneath the boabab tree. But he fears there is more at stake than his life.In the Devil’s den with Baine by her side, Sloan braves certain death and discovers a spirit for living.EXCERPT Stroke. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke. Stroke. Breathe. Sloan’s sun flushed skin prickled quickly in the cool water. For the next twenty minutes, she focused on the rhythm. She released every concern from her mind and swam. No, in hooker mode her legs couldn’t kick as furiously as she wanted nor arms stroke as hard, but her muscles still sang. The effort gave her brain a welcomed respite from the restless night. Covert work had always been Sloan’s forte. Morphing into someone else. Hiding who she was. What she’d endured. But this assignment held in the balance every desire she’d clung to since the day she’d quit mourning her parents and started fighting, everything she’d thought beyond her grasp after so long struggling to make it a reality. This assignment had also tapped a well of emotion she’d thought long ago drained. “Nice stroke.” His voice destroyed her solitude. The dark timbre resonated down Sloan’s spine like a cellist’s bow being dragged across the C string. A fresh wave of gooseflesh crested over her. She curled the water’s surface and turned toward Baine. Words froze in her throat. Thick and unruly dark hair cropped neatly around his ears, but dipped and swayed wildly at his forehead. The perfect handle for screwing. Jezuz. If that one wasn’t enticing enough, the swells and dips of his traps, shoulders, and biceps provided a feast of options to grip while riding the sculpted V of his hips. Everywhere she looked his swarthy skin wrapped taut—over a defined eight pack, thick and sturdy legs, corded forearms. The short crinkles of brown hair that peppered across his chest and peeked out from the waist of his swim trunks sizzled her brain. “Thank you.” Sloan aimed for courteous and non-solicitous, tamping down the resentment, warring curiosity, and wicked lust he stirred inside her with every bit of self-control she possessed. The bespoke suit he’d worn so well the night before had been traded for charcoal swim trunks and a towel slung over one shoulder. He moved toward her with grace that belied his bulk, before dropping his towel on the chaise next to hers. Of all the chairs and loungers in the place, he’d chosen the only occupied lounger on the entire patio. The act, though in all likelihood innocent, rang in Sloan’s ears like a war cry. A deliberate move in a complicated game of chess. Having just finished her laps, his timing was too perfect to be coincidence. Baine turned and settled his gaze on her. Sloan searched for any sign of recognition in the sky blue orbs, in the tautness of his square jaw, or the furrow of his brow, and found none. Good.If he recognized her, the mission would be ruined. Not that she’d live to see the fallout. It was good that his eyes hadn’t alighted with remembrance, but heedless of the boon, emptiness pitted her belly. Every battle honed instinct screamed for Sloan to retreat. In submission, she pushed off the bottom and glided to the stone outcropping only a few feet away from the enigma that was Baine Kendrick. She should hate him on sight. Anger roiled just under the surface, but the sudden and undeniable physical awareness of him played bumper-cars with the ire and her brain. “It’s all yours,” she said, levering herself out of the water. Thousands of droplets rained off her body, and Baine’s intent study likely cataloged each. Like a damn schoolgirl, her cheeks heated. “That’s good,” he said. A smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. Then he added, “I think you would put me to shame in a proper race.” Sloan shook her head, unable to speak. The twinge of memory of two forgotten children racing over the green grass was too sweet and painful to rouse. He held out a towel, and she forced her feet to close the distance. Proximity sent a jolt of electricity coursing through her, similar to the energy that surged before a fight, but different. She swallowed hard, struggling to ignore the nuance, which made her hyper aware she wore only strategically placed strips of spandex. When her fingers closed around the terry cloth, Lana and Cynthia came ambling through the doorway onto the patio. Their conversation quieted once they saw her and Baine. The women waved. “Good morning, ladies.” They beamed at him as they walked by, then settled on side-by-side lounges at the opposite end of the row. Sloan nodded and soaked up the excess moisture from her hair and body in preparation for her escape. She secured the towel around her body with a tuck of its tail at the top of her breast, and gave him the best smile she could muster. “Enjoy the—” “Lotion me,” he asked. Though his tone made it sound like more like a command. Sloan turned a palm up. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any.” She motioned toward the other women. “They might have some, and I’m sure they’d happily help.” “And you wouldn’t,” he countered. While she sputtered, something she didn’t recall ever having done in her life, he reached across her to a side table and plucked a tube from a decorative bowl. His body came so close to hers the heat he radiated seeped into her marrow. As he retreated, the dusting of dark hair on his chest tickled her arm. “Here,” he said, slapping the lotion into her hand. He sat on the end of the chaise, elbows on his knees. Hunching didn’t diminish his presence in the least. In fact, it drew Sloan’s attention to the sloping topography of his chest and the spread of his shoulders, which dwarfed the chair under him. When she didn’t move he tilted his chin up and directed her behind him with a thick arm. She circled him in a wide arc, but surrendered, tucking behind him on the hard wood. Clinically, like she treated a field wound, Sloan uncapped the sunscreen, deposited a dollop on her palm and began rubbing it onto his back. From his nape she worked her way out over his shoulders, denying the tingle the friction created below her waist. Until he leaned into her touch.
Megan Mitcham was born and raised among the live oaks and shrimp boats of the Mississippi Gulf Coast, where her enormous family still calls home. She attended college at the University of Southern Mississippi where she received a bachelor's degree in curriculum, instruction, and special education. For several years Megan worked as a teacher in Mississippi. She married and moved to South Carolina and began working for an international non-profit organization as an instructor and co-director.
In 2009 Megan fell in love with books. Until then, books had been a source for research or the topic of tests. But one day she read Mercy by Julie Garwood. And oh, Mercy, she was hooked!Megan lives in Southern Arkansas where she pens heart pounding romantic thriller novels and window-steaming erotic romance.
Author links:http://www.meganmitcham.com/ (Subscribe to my newsletter for more contests, sneak peeks, and ARC's!)https://www.facebook.com/meganmitchamauthorhttps://twitter.com/MeganMMMitchamhttps://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6552758.Megan_Mitchamhttp://www.pinterest.com/meganmitcham5/
September 26, 2014
Her Wicked Captain--Now on NetGalley
The release date for Her Wicked Captain is just a little over a month away, and now the book is available for bloggers, reviewers, and librarians on NetGalley. As a former librarian myself, I love that the book is available here. If you're on NetGalley, check it out and be sure to share your review. I can't wait to hear your thoughts on Dell and Rory's story!
HER WICKED CAPTAIN on NetGalley
Release date: November 4, 2014
Blurb:
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.
HER WICKED CAPTAIN on NetGalley
Release date: November 4, 2014
Blurb:
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.
September 18, 2014
Texas Twist by Cynthia D'Alba, An Excerpt & Giveaway
Today it's my pleasure to bring you an excerpt from the smoking' hot, TEXAS TWIST, by Cynthia D'Alba. I was lucky enough to get an advanced read of this book, and I highly recommend it. Cash is one sexy cowboy!
Blurb
Real bad boys can grow up to be real good men.Hit hard by the death of her parents, Paige Ryan needs to figure out what to do with her life. She moves to Whispering Springs, Texas, to be near her step-brother. But just as she starts to get her life on track, the last man she ever wanted to see again sends it right back off the rails.Cash Montgomery was on the cusp of having it all. Three bull riding titles, fame, fortune and respect from his family. Until a bad bull leaves him injured, angry and searching for comfort at the bottom of a bottle. With nowhere to go, he moves into his sister-in-law’s old ranch house in Whispering Springs—which he’s surprised to find already occupied.As Cash rebuilds the dilapidated home and Paige starts out on her medical career, their old friendship begins to reemerge and sparks are ignited. Paige knows that Cash is nothing but a heartache waiting to happen. But maybe this bad boy has grown up to be a real good man?Warning: Watch out for falling lumber, falling in holes, and falling for the wrong guy…again. You can leave your hard hat on.
Link to Follow Tour: http://www.tastybooktours.com/2014/06/texas-twist-by-cynthia-d-alba-texas.html
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22272747-texas-twist?from_search=true
Buy Links Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Texas-Twist-Montgomery-Mavericks-ebook/dp/B00K8R50BE
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/texas-twist-cynthia-dalba/1119471582
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/texas-twist-2
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/texas-twist/id876811008Samhain: http://cynthiadalba.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/samhain-digital.jpeg
Author Info
Award winning author Cynthia D’Alba was born and raised in Arkansas. After being gone for seventeen years, she’s thrilled to be back home living on the banks of an eight-thousand acre lake. When she’s not reading, writing or plotting, she’s doorman for her two dogs, cook, housekeeper and chief bottle washer for her husband and slave to a noisy, messy parrot. She loves to chat online with friends and fans.
Author Links
Website: http://cynthiadalba.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cynthia.dalba Twitter: https://twitter.com/CynthiaDAlba Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5326924.Cynthia_D_Alba
Rafflecopter Giveaway (Please See Rafflecopter for Description (Tons of Goodies))
TEXAS TWIST
Copyright © 2014 Cynthia D'AlbaAll rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publicationShe went to her room, unbuttoning her blouse as soon as she got to the hallway. Her bedroom door was open, which was odd because she was sure she’d closed it this morning.She let out an ear-splitting scream when she looked in.“Andrew Lane Montgomery. I can’t believe you did this,” she yelled and then flopped in the middle of her new gel-filled foam mattress. “Oh my God. This is wonderful.” She rolled from side-to-side, giggling with glee. “I can’t believe it.”“One night was all it took for me. I don’t know how you’ve slept there a week.”She leaned up on her elbows. “Thank you. I can’t believe it. I just can’t. You didn’t have to do this.”He gave her one of his lecherous grins. “Nice look.”Paige looked down and got a great view of her beige bra through the unbuttoned front of her shirt. “Oh crap.” She jerked the sides together.“I’ve seen a bra before, Paige. Chill.”She snorted. Of course he had. Plenty of them was her guess. Nonetheless, what he’d done for her, replacing her god-awful bag of rocks disguised as a mattress, deserved at least a kiss.The grin on his face faltered a little as she neared. “Thank you, Cash. I’ll pay you back. I swear. Every penny.” She arched up on her toes, held his face in her hands and pulled him lower for a kiss. It started as a press of lips. Simple. Sweet. Innocent. Then she felt the palm of his large hand at the base of her neck sliding into her hair. He pulled back until their gazes met.“You don’t owe me anything. Certainly not for this mattress.”He took her mouth in a hard kiss that quickly became greedy and demanding. The tip of his tongue tickled at her lips. When she parted them, he thrust into her mouth, his tongue filling the cavity, touching and stroking every centimeter. She moved her tongue against his. Electrified at his taste, buzzed by the sheer pleasure at his mastery of a simple kiss, she put all she had into the kiss.Her nervous system flipped into overdrive. Heart palpitations. Choppy breathing, when she could draw a breath. Toes curled under. Hells bells. She was sweating behind her knees.When he spread his other hand across her shoulders and he pulled her tight against him, his hard shaft pressed into her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut. It was too much.He was too much. She wanted more. She wanted everything.Instead, she pushed away on unsteady legs.
September 14, 2014
Snippet Sunday--Remember Me?
This week, I'm posting a Snippet Sunday excerpt from my November release, historical romance HER WICKED CAPTAIN (bk 1 of The River Rogues series/Samhain Publishing). (Be sure to read on for a chance to win a FREE GIFTCARD from me in honor of this release!!)
In this snippet, Dell, the heroine, has just been reunited with her childhood friend, Rory, for the first time in many years--although he hasn't recognized her yet. All grown up, he's now the worldly captain of a steamboat which has run aground in her remote Ozarks settlement. Unfortunately, the handsome gambler knows things about Dell's past and identity that could turn the whole community against her.
Presently, the captain’s strong arms went around her as he lifted her over the rail. His hands lingered on her sides a moment past propriety.
Flushing, she stepped aside. “Thank you.”
He winked at her and helped hoist the rest of the party up from the keelboat onto the packet’s leaning deck. Standing behind her cousins, Dell could still feel the branding on her ribs where his hands had touched her. She willed herself not to panic, but her pulse fluttered wildly at the base of her throat. She couldn’t hide, nor could she return to the riverbank, though every second she stood under his nose was another second he might recognize her.
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.
Add on Goodreads Pre-order on Amazon or Nook
Easy entry for a chance to win a FREE $10 Giftcard to an online retailer of your choice. More details here:
HER WICKED CAPTAIN Goodreads Giveaway
In this snippet, Dell, the heroine, has just been reunited with her childhood friend, Rory, for the first time in many years--although he hasn't recognized her yet. All grown up, he's now the worldly captain of a steamboat which has run aground in her remote Ozarks settlement. Unfortunately, the handsome gambler knows things about Dell's past and identity that could turn the whole community against her.
Presently, the captain’s strong arms went around her as he lifted her over the rail. His hands lingered on her sides a moment past propriety.
Flushing, she stepped aside. “Thank you.”
He winked at her and helped hoist the rest of the party up from the keelboat onto the packet’s leaning deck. Standing behind her cousins, Dell could still feel the branding on her ribs where his hands had touched her. She willed herself not to panic, but her pulse fluttered wildly at the base of her throat. She couldn’t hide, nor could she return to the riverbank, though every second she stood under his nose was another second he might recognize her.
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.
Add on Goodreads Pre-order on Amazon or Nook
Easy entry for a chance to win a FREE $10 Giftcard to an online retailer of your choice. More details here:
HER WICKED CAPTAIN Goodreads Giveaway
September 13, 2014
Goodreads Giftcard Giveaway
GIFT CARD UP FOR GRABS!As some of you might know, HER WICKED CAPTAIN, book one of the River Rogues Series, is coming out November 4, 2014.
I know it's often hard to remember when books come out, so here’s how I'm going to help…
I’ve set up an event on Goodreads to give away a $10 gift card to the online store of the winner’s choice.
So how can you be in the drawing for this freebie?
EASY! Go to: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22922437-her-wicked-captainMark HER WICKED CAPTAIN as WANT TO READ
That’s it! I’ll pick a winner via a random number generator to win on October 31.
Easy peasy!!
Even if you don’t win, I hope you’ll pick up your copy of HER WICKED CAPTAIN on Nov 4, 2014
September 6, 2014
Snippet Sunday: Midnight Cravings
Today I'm posting a snippet from Midnight Cravings, my short, naughty shifter romance, re-released this week and on sale for 99 cents on Kindle and Nook.
About the snippet: After a painful break-up, all Audrey wants is a night with a hot Greek lover to help her forget. But she doesn't know Stephon, a lycan, can only mate for life...
"So you’re holding out for someone special or…or for something in particular?”
He lay beside her and drew her hand to his heart. “I am waiting for one woman. A woman who will take me as I am and want no other.” His eyes searched hers. “Because I will want no other after her.”
“Lucky girl.”
Blurb: Audrey has a job most people only dream about, visiting exotic destinations. But her new assignment, writing a review of a remote villa in Greece, exposes more than she’d bargained for—the handsome locals are really murderous werewolves, and worse, her steamy Greek lover is a lycanthrope with Midnight Cravings.
Commitment-phobic Audrey wants nothing more than to prove her worth as a journalist in rustic Arcadia. Then she meets Stephon, a charming local, and wonders if she’ll be able to put the past behind her and learn how to say “yes”…to everything.But looks, money, and sex appeal mask an ancient evil. Beneath the quaint facade of the village, a curse as old as time keeps Stephon from giving his body—or his heart—to anyone but his true mate. Because when the moon is full, the cravings begin.
Buy on Amazon Buy on Nook
About the snippet: After a painful break-up, all Audrey wants is a night with a hot Greek lover to help her forget. But she doesn't know Stephon, a lycan, can only mate for life...
"So you’re holding out for someone special or…or for something in particular?”
He lay beside her and drew her hand to his heart. “I am waiting for one woman. A woman who will take me as I am and want no other.” His eyes searched hers. “Because I will want no other after her.”
“Lucky girl.”
Blurb: Audrey has a job most people only dream about, visiting exotic destinations. But her new assignment, writing a review of a remote villa in Greece, exposes more than she’d bargained for—the handsome locals are really murderous werewolves, and worse, her steamy Greek lover is a lycanthrope with Midnight Cravings.
Commitment-phobic Audrey wants nothing more than to prove her worth as a journalist in rustic Arcadia. Then she meets Stephon, a charming local, and wonders if she’ll be able to put the past behind her and learn how to say “yes”…to everything.But looks, money, and sex appeal mask an ancient evil. Beneath the quaint facade of the village, a curse as old as time keeps Stephon from giving his body—or his heart—to anyone but his true mate. Because when the moon is full, the cravings begin.
Buy on Amazon Buy on Nook
September 5, 2014
An Excerpt from Must Love Breeches by Angela Quarles
Time travel romances have always been one of my favorite genres. Today it's my pleasure to introduce you to Angela Quarles, author of MUST LOVE BREECHES, a new time travel debuting this week! It sounds very good to me, and I'm looking forward to reading it.
Bio Angela is a geek girl romance writer. What makes her romances geeky? Whether it's fan girling over Ada Lovelace by having her as a secondary character in Must Love Breeches, or outright geek references with geek types in her romantic comedy with paranormal elements, Beer and Groping in Las Vegas, or going all Southern steampunk in Steam Me Up, Rawley, she likes to have fun with her romances and hopes her readers do too.
Angela works at an independent bookstore and lives in an historic house in the beautiful and quirky town of Mobile, AL. When she's not writing, she enjoys the usual stuff like gardening, reading, hanging out, eating, drinking, chasing squirrels out of the walls and creating the occasional knitted scarf. She's had a varied career, including website programming and directing a small local history museum, and has discovered that writing allows her to explore all her interests.
She has a B.A. in Anthropology and International Studies with a minor in German from Emory University, and a Masters in Heritage Preservation from Georgia State University. She was an exchange student to Finland in high school and studied abroad in Vienna one summer in college.
Author LinksWebsite: http://bit.ly/VMFK00Blog: http://bit.ly/WkQbXGJoin my mailing list: http://bit.ly/1sde3QiParanormal Unbound, the group blog I belong to: http://bit.ly/1sdaIRaTwitter: http://bit.ly/Se5gQ0Facebook: http://on.fb.me/VMFT3LPinterest: http://bit.ly/1qRhgHQ
Book InfoMust Love Breeches
Time Travel Romance
Release Date: Sep 3 2014
Length: Novel (98,000 words)
Ebook Price: $4.99 (Pre-order price $3.99)
ISBN: 978-0-9905400-0-7
Content advisory: Adult language, explicit sexBlurbShe's finally met the man of her dreams. There's only one problem: he lives in a different century.
"A fresh, charming new voice" – New York Times bestselling author Tessa Dare
HOW FAR WOULD YOU TRAVEL FOR LOVE?
A mysterious artifact zaps Isabelle Rochon to pre-Victorian England, but before she understands the card case’s significance a thief steals it. Now she must find the artifact, navigate the pitfalls of a stiffly polite London, keep her time-traveling origins a secret, and resist her growing attraction to Lord Montagu, the Vicious Viscount so hot, he curls her toes.
To Lord Montagu nothing makes more sense than keeping his distance from the strange but lovely Colonial. However, when his scheme for revenge reaches a stalemate, he convinces Isabelle to masquerade as his fiancée. What he did not bargain on is being drawn to her intellectually as well as physically.
Lord Montagu’s now constant presence overthrows her equilibrium and her common sense. Isabelle thought all she wanted was to return home, but as passion flares between them, she must decide whenher true home—as well as her heart—lies.
Book Links Amazon (universal): http://bit.ly/MustLoveBreechesKobo: http://bit.ly/MLBkobo
ARe: http://bit.ly/1rXAZmwiTunes: http://bit.ly/1rXKylcGoogle Play: http://bit.ly/MLBGoogleNook: http://bit.ly/1AVWtFhGoodreads: http://bit.ly/MLBGR
Must Love Breeches board on Pinterest: http://bit.ly/1qCPKcyOfficial Book Page: http://bit.ly/MLBBookExcerptA reenactment ball was the perfect setting for romance. Or not.Isabelle Rochon fidgeted in her oddly-shaped-but-oh-so-accurate ball gown, surrounded by women who’d sacrificed historical authenticity for sex appeal. Red carpet ball gowns in the nineteenth century, really? Once again she was like the dorky kid participating in dress-up day at school when everyone else had magically decided it was lame.“Gah. I feel like a green robot with strange battle armor.” Isabelle pointed to her dark green dress, the shoulders flaring out almost to a point, exaggerating their width. “What were the fashionistas in 1834 thinking?”“I have no bloody idea.” Jocelyn squeezed the poof of fabric at her shoulder. “These huge-ass sleeves are ridiculous.”“Ah, screw it, we’re having fun, right? I’m not going to self-sabotage the ball. Not after all the time I spent obsessing over my costume.”“And obsessing over the etiquette rules.”“That too.” Besides, how fun was it to learn Jocelyn shared her obsession with guys in period clothes and bodice-ripper romances?Isabelle eyed a guy strolling past in tight-fitting, buff-colored pantaloons. She pitched her voice to be heard over the string quartet. “Hmm. How about the clothes on that daring derriere?”Jocelyn sucked on her olive and plopped the empty stir stick into her martini. “Oh, yes. Definitely a breech-ripper.”Isabelle choked on her Bellini, the champagne fizz tickling her throat and nose. This was the first opportunity they’d had to socialize outside work, so she treated this moment delicately, afraid to puncture the mood. No need to point out he sported pantaloons, not breeches.She should ease up on the drink, though. She didn’t want to get plastered at the Thirty-fourth Annual Prancing Through History Reenactment Ball. Especially since her new colleagues would be around. And her boss. She needed to impress him.“Look lively,” Jocelyn said, her voice low, with a dollop of teasing. “Here comes the office hottie.”She’d been cultivating a mild crush on Andrew since starting her new job at the British Museum six months ago. The whole situation was perfect. A guy in the same field would respect her interests, wouldn’t expect her to give up her profession for a relationship. He was safe. If it worked out, great, if not, no biggie. She was happy, finally, with how her life was working out.She’d pictured him in period clothing before, looking resplendent.He did.“Hi, Andrew.” Her voice came out a little too high. Jeez, could she sound any more like a lovesick fool? She always did this around gorgeous men—went ga-ga as if she couldn’t rub two brain cells together. She gazed around the Duke of Chelmsford’s newly renovated ballroom and pretended as if her breath hadn’t quickened and her body hadn’t heated at the sight of Andrew.“Hello, Isabelle. Jocelyn.” Andrew nodded. His smile felt like a gift for her alone.Her pulse throbbed. He’d sought her out. Play it cool. Say something witty. “So, uh, having fun yet?” Having fun yet?Something, or someone, in the crowd hogged his attention. She followed his gaze until she found it. Or rather him. Their boss at the bar.Andrew faced her and the remnants of calculation on his hot-as-heck features disappeared behind his over-bright grin.He leaned closer.The artificial tang of his cologne drifted her way. She wrinkled her nose.“Well done on the Whittaker exhibit. Finding that journal was a bit of a coup. It’ll be a fine addition to the exhibit, once it’s built.”He’d noticed. She’d worked damn hard. “Thank you.” Why couldn’t Brits find her Southern accent as sexy as she found theirs?“Glad you came across the pond to work with us. That find should put you in the running for the promotion.”Good. The promotion would mean she could stay in London. Well, it would make staying easier. No matter what, she was determined to remain.“Of course, you’ll have to beat me out.”Cold clarity hit her stomach like accidentally gulping a glass of iced gin instead of iced water, jolting her from her usual foray into Incoherent Land around attractive guys. “You’re applying too?” Of course he was.“Without a doubt. Career changer and all. I’m a shoo-in. Sure you still want to apply?”Could she scrub the smug look off his face? She settled for the less satisfactory, but more controlled, “Yes.”Now catching her boss’s attention was more important than ever. Besides wanting to escape into another era, she’d also hoped her costume would impress him. She glanced at the wet bar. Drat. Where had her boss gone?Andrew slipped his hand around her elbow, pulling her closer. “How about we ditch this party and grab a pint? You and me.” He ignored Jocelyn, who stared back and forth between them.It all made sense—his sudden interest after dismissing her for months, the calculation she’d caught when he’d turned back—he thought he’d intimidate and charm her into giving up the position.She yanked her arm free, saying, “Fat chance, you smarmy horndog,” which cut through the room because, of course, the music had just ended.Jocelyn snorted her drink, eyes watering, and coughed, fighting to catch her breath. For a moment, her coughing was the only sound punctuating the silence.The curious eyes of the onlookers made Isabelle feel as if a huge moat had sprung up around her. The moat of Beware, All Ye Who Enter—Idiot in the Center. If one of those eyes were her boss…Andrew trotted out his grin, the one that used to make her insides hum. “Thought we had a connection. No?” He backed away, hands up, eyes locked with hers in a you’re-such-a-fool stare, his heels snapping on the marble floor with each backward step. “Cheers, then, babe. May the best man win.” He nodded and sauntered off.Jocelyn, bless her, completely ignored the Moat of Embarrassment and stepped to Isabelle’s side. “How had we never noticed what an ass he was?”“Probably because we were too busy drooling?”“There is that.”“Seriously, I should just go pound my head against the nearest vertical object and repeat one hundred times, ‘When will I learn?’”“Just be careful not to poke out your eye with those lethal shoulder sleeves.”“Ha.” But Jocelyn’s dry humor softened Isabelle’s mood. “Can’t believe he expects me to just roll over. I have to get the promotion, I need the security. No way am I going to sacrifice my dream to be with a guy, I don’t care how hot he is.”Never again would she let a jerk encased in good-looking skin influence her life. Been there. Done that. Have the gold-stitched Fool’s cap.
Bio Angela is a geek girl romance writer. What makes her romances geeky? Whether it's fan girling over Ada Lovelace by having her as a secondary character in Must Love Breeches, or outright geek references with geek types in her romantic comedy with paranormal elements, Beer and Groping in Las Vegas, or going all Southern steampunk in Steam Me Up, Rawley, she likes to have fun with her romances and hopes her readers do too.Angela works at an independent bookstore and lives in an historic house in the beautiful and quirky town of Mobile, AL. When she's not writing, she enjoys the usual stuff like gardening, reading, hanging out, eating, drinking, chasing squirrels out of the walls and creating the occasional knitted scarf. She's had a varied career, including website programming and directing a small local history museum, and has discovered that writing allows her to explore all her interests.
She has a B.A. in Anthropology and International Studies with a minor in German from Emory University, and a Masters in Heritage Preservation from Georgia State University. She was an exchange student to Finland in high school and studied abroad in Vienna one summer in college.
Author LinksWebsite: http://bit.ly/VMFK00Blog: http://bit.ly/WkQbXGJoin my mailing list: http://bit.ly/1sde3QiParanormal Unbound, the group blog I belong to: http://bit.ly/1sdaIRaTwitter: http://bit.ly/Se5gQ0Facebook: http://on.fb.me/VMFT3LPinterest: http://bit.ly/1qRhgHQ
Book InfoMust Love Breeches
Time Travel Romance
Release Date: Sep 3 2014
Length: Novel (98,000 words)
Ebook Price: $4.99 (Pre-order price $3.99)
ISBN: 978-0-9905400-0-7
Content advisory: Adult language, explicit sexBlurbShe's finally met the man of her dreams. There's only one problem: he lives in a different century.
"A fresh, charming new voice" – New York Times bestselling author Tessa Dare
HOW FAR WOULD YOU TRAVEL FOR LOVE?
A mysterious artifact zaps Isabelle Rochon to pre-Victorian England, but before she understands the card case’s significance a thief steals it. Now she must find the artifact, navigate the pitfalls of a stiffly polite London, keep her time-traveling origins a secret, and resist her growing attraction to Lord Montagu, the Vicious Viscount so hot, he curls her toes.
To Lord Montagu nothing makes more sense than keeping his distance from the strange but lovely Colonial. However, when his scheme for revenge reaches a stalemate, he convinces Isabelle to masquerade as his fiancée. What he did not bargain on is being drawn to her intellectually as well as physically.
Lord Montagu’s now constant presence overthrows her equilibrium and her common sense. Isabelle thought all she wanted was to return home, but as passion flares between them, she must decide whenher true home—as well as her heart—lies.
Book Links Amazon (universal): http://bit.ly/MustLoveBreechesKobo: http://bit.ly/MLBkobo
ARe: http://bit.ly/1rXAZmwiTunes: http://bit.ly/1rXKylcGoogle Play: http://bit.ly/MLBGoogleNook: http://bit.ly/1AVWtFhGoodreads: http://bit.ly/MLBGR
Must Love Breeches board on Pinterest: http://bit.ly/1qCPKcyOfficial Book Page: http://bit.ly/MLBBookExcerptA reenactment ball was the perfect setting for romance. Or not.Isabelle Rochon fidgeted in her oddly-shaped-but-oh-so-accurate ball gown, surrounded by women who’d sacrificed historical authenticity for sex appeal. Red carpet ball gowns in the nineteenth century, really? Once again she was like the dorky kid participating in dress-up day at school when everyone else had magically decided it was lame.“Gah. I feel like a green robot with strange battle armor.” Isabelle pointed to her dark green dress, the shoulders flaring out almost to a point, exaggerating their width. “What were the fashionistas in 1834 thinking?”“I have no bloody idea.” Jocelyn squeezed the poof of fabric at her shoulder. “These huge-ass sleeves are ridiculous.”“Ah, screw it, we’re having fun, right? I’m not going to self-sabotage the ball. Not after all the time I spent obsessing over my costume.”“And obsessing over the etiquette rules.”“That too.” Besides, how fun was it to learn Jocelyn shared her obsession with guys in period clothes and bodice-ripper romances?Isabelle eyed a guy strolling past in tight-fitting, buff-colored pantaloons. She pitched her voice to be heard over the string quartet. “Hmm. How about the clothes on that daring derriere?”Jocelyn sucked on her olive and plopped the empty stir stick into her martini. “Oh, yes. Definitely a breech-ripper.”Isabelle choked on her Bellini, the champagne fizz tickling her throat and nose. This was the first opportunity they’d had to socialize outside work, so she treated this moment delicately, afraid to puncture the mood. No need to point out he sported pantaloons, not breeches.She should ease up on the drink, though. She didn’t want to get plastered at the Thirty-fourth Annual Prancing Through History Reenactment Ball. Especially since her new colleagues would be around. And her boss. She needed to impress him.“Look lively,” Jocelyn said, her voice low, with a dollop of teasing. “Here comes the office hottie.”She’d been cultivating a mild crush on Andrew since starting her new job at the British Museum six months ago. The whole situation was perfect. A guy in the same field would respect her interests, wouldn’t expect her to give up her profession for a relationship. He was safe. If it worked out, great, if not, no biggie. She was happy, finally, with how her life was working out.She’d pictured him in period clothing before, looking resplendent.He did.“Hi, Andrew.” Her voice came out a little too high. Jeez, could she sound any more like a lovesick fool? She always did this around gorgeous men—went ga-ga as if she couldn’t rub two brain cells together. She gazed around the Duke of Chelmsford’s newly renovated ballroom and pretended as if her breath hadn’t quickened and her body hadn’t heated at the sight of Andrew.“Hello, Isabelle. Jocelyn.” Andrew nodded. His smile felt like a gift for her alone.Her pulse throbbed. He’d sought her out. Play it cool. Say something witty. “So, uh, having fun yet?” Having fun yet?Something, or someone, in the crowd hogged his attention. She followed his gaze until she found it. Or rather him. Their boss at the bar.Andrew faced her and the remnants of calculation on his hot-as-heck features disappeared behind his over-bright grin.He leaned closer.The artificial tang of his cologne drifted her way. She wrinkled her nose.“Well done on the Whittaker exhibit. Finding that journal was a bit of a coup. It’ll be a fine addition to the exhibit, once it’s built.”He’d noticed. She’d worked damn hard. “Thank you.” Why couldn’t Brits find her Southern accent as sexy as she found theirs?“Glad you came across the pond to work with us. That find should put you in the running for the promotion.”Good. The promotion would mean she could stay in London. Well, it would make staying easier. No matter what, she was determined to remain.“Of course, you’ll have to beat me out.”Cold clarity hit her stomach like accidentally gulping a glass of iced gin instead of iced water, jolting her from her usual foray into Incoherent Land around attractive guys. “You’re applying too?” Of course he was.“Without a doubt. Career changer and all. I’m a shoo-in. Sure you still want to apply?”Could she scrub the smug look off his face? She settled for the less satisfactory, but more controlled, “Yes.”Now catching her boss’s attention was more important than ever. Besides wanting to escape into another era, she’d also hoped her costume would impress him. She glanced at the wet bar. Drat. Where had her boss gone?Andrew slipped his hand around her elbow, pulling her closer. “How about we ditch this party and grab a pint? You and me.” He ignored Jocelyn, who stared back and forth between them.It all made sense—his sudden interest after dismissing her for months, the calculation she’d caught when he’d turned back—he thought he’d intimidate and charm her into giving up the position.She yanked her arm free, saying, “Fat chance, you smarmy horndog,” which cut through the room because, of course, the music had just ended.Jocelyn snorted her drink, eyes watering, and coughed, fighting to catch her breath. For a moment, her coughing was the only sound punctuating the silence.The curious eyes of the onlookers made Isabelle feel as if a huge moat had sprung up around her. The moat of Beware, All Ye Who Enter—Idiot in the Center. If one of those eyes were her boss…Andrew trotted out his grin, the one that used to make her insides hum. “Thought we had a connection. No?” He backed away, hands up, eyes locked with hers in a you’re-such-a-fool stare, his heels snapping on the marble floor with each backward step. “Cheers, then, babe. May the best man win.” He nodded and sauntered off.Jocelyn, bless her, completely ignored the Moat of Embarrassment and stepped to Isabelle’s side. “How had we never noticed what an ass he was?”“Probably because we were too busy drooling?”“There is that.”“Seriously, I should just go pound my head against the nearest vertical object and repeat one hundred times, ‘When will I learn?’”“Just be careful not to poke out your eye with those lethal shoulder sleeves.”“Ha.” But Jocelyn’s dry humor softened Isabelle’s mood. “Can’t believe he expects me to just roll over. I have to get the promotion, I need the security. No way am I going to sacrifice my dream to be with a guy, I don’t care how hot he is.”Never again would she let a jerk encased in good-looking skin influence her life. Been there. Done that. Have the gold-stitched Fool’s cap.
September 4, 2014
Midnight Cravings--Re-release
Only she can satisfy his appetite.
Happy Thursday! Today marks the re-release of my only contemporary-set story, Midnight Cravings, a shifter romance. The first edition of the story was published a few years ago. Now it's been revised and has a sparkly new cover.
Here are a few of the fantastic reviews Midnight Cravings has received:
“Midnight Cravings is a story that will satisfy all of those naughty paranormal hungers. Author Sandra Jones has combined suspense, mystery, intrigue and romance, and set them against a breathtaking backdrop, ensuring the reader gets an experience they are certain to remember and enjoy.” Rating: 4 books, Long and Short Reviews
“…an amazing read that grabbed you from the beginning and didn’t let you go until the very end. It was fast paced and adrenaline pumping.” Bitten by Books
“…fast paced and intense…” Rating: YOU NEED TO READ by You Gotta Read Reviews
It's a quick read of 81 pages and is only 99 cents. So if naughty Greek werewolves interest you, check it out. ;-)
Purchase on Kindle or Nook (coming soon).
About the story: Audrey has a job most people only dream about, visiting exotic destinations. But her new assignment, writing a review of a remote villa in Greece, exposes more than she’d bargained for—the handsome locals are really murderous werewolves, and worse, her steamy new Greek lover is a lycanthrope with Midnight Cravings. Commitment-phobic Audrey wants nothing more than to prove her worth as a journalist in rustic Arcadia. Then she meets Stephon, a charming local, and wonders if she’ll be able to put the past behind her and learn how to say “yes”…to everything. But looks, money, and sex appeal mask an ancient evil. Beneath the quaint facade of the village, a curse as old as time keeps Stephon from giving his body—or his heart—to anyone but his true mate. Because when the moon is full, the cravings begin.
August 30, 2014
Snippet Sunday--Predator and Prey
Today I'm posting a Snippet Sunday excerpt of 8 lines from my upcoming reissue, MIDNIGHT CRAVINGS, a shifter romance. This short story is coming out in September. In this snippet, the hero, Stephon, a hunky Greek hotelier, is escorting the heroine, Audrey, a travel reviewer, to her lodgings in his remote Arcadian resort.
As they approached the row of villas, Stephon pointed out the many repairs that needed to be made: a path that needed gravel, motion-detector lights that didn’t always work, tree roots in the footpath making for hazardous trips, and a parking lot that needed lighting. The man was either a safety freak or a perfectionist.
“Keep inside your villa until sunrise and be sureto lock your doors. We don’t have alarms—we have so few visitors.”
While he talked, his hand drifted across Audrey’s back—light as a feather. His accent, honey smooth, made her stomach flutter.
Too much wine.
No, she couldn’t blame the booze. The guy made her drool, long before she’d felt a real buzz.
About MIDNIGHT CRAVINGS:
Audrey has a job most people only dream about, visiting exotic destinations. But her new assignment, writing a review of a remote villa in Greece, exposes more than she’d bargained for—the handsome locals are really murderous werewolves, and worse, her steamy new Greek lover is a lycanthrope with Midnight Cravings. Commitment-phobic Audrey wants nothing more than to prove her worth as a journalist in rustic Arcadia. Then she meets Stephon, a charming local, and wonders if she’ll be able to put the past behind her and learn how to say “yes”…to everything. But looks, money, and sex appeal mask an ancient evil. Beneath the quaint facade of the village, a curse as old as time keeps Stephon from giving his body—or his heart—to anyone but his true mate. Because when the moon is full, the cravings begin.
For news about MIDNIGHT CRAVINGS' release, as well as my historical romances, you can subscribe to my newsletter here: Sandra Jones's Newsletter
August 29, 2014
The Exotic Grand Tour
As an American from a small rural town, I'm intrigued by British settings in historical romances, but my beloved Regency and Highland characters are often tempted by the lure of warmer, more exotic locales.
Countries like Spain, Italy, Greece, Egypt, and Morocco beckoned members of the ton to come explore, thus allowing them to escape their often-dreary lives. From roughly mid-seventeenth century to mid-nineteenth century, young, upperclass men made this pilgrimage from their homeland to see the world. Artists and writers were inspired by these trips to create some of their most famous works. And some, including Lord Byron, were persuaded to abandon their citizenship altogether. Far before the Regency era, even the Crusaders traveled to the warmer climates of the Holy Land before returning to England and spicing up (no pun intended) the pages of Medieval romances with tales of their journey and battlefield prowess.
Myself, I gobble up mysteries set among the Pyramids of Egypt or the islands of Greece. Most of the romance novels I write take place in America or Great Britain, but I have one story set in Greece. Although it's a paranormal romance, MIDNIGHT CRAVINGS is rich in Greek legend, myth, and history. I'm pleased to announce that I'll be sharing the re-release of that short story very soon! I enjoyed writing the romantic journey of my sexy couple who discovered passion among the ruins of the wild, windswept Arcadia mountains.
For news about MIDNIGHT CRAVINGS' release, as well as my historical romances, you can subscribe to my newsletter here: Sandra Jones's Newsletter
What are your favorite exotic locales? Did some place like Egypt, India, or Italy make your bucket list?
