V.L. Locey's Blog, page 67

Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.


 Today we have a small excerpt from the next installment of Wind in White Birch. This week is our picture prompt week. Our excerpts must be 300 words or less and incorporate the image somehow. Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!
Wind in White Birch


                The sun was creeping up over The `Burgh when someone nudged me awake. The smell of hot coffee and bacon was directly under my nose. I reached for the cup blindly. Rhick crouched in front of me, his face unshaven and his blond hair ruffled. Rhick always looked incredible in the morning, especially when holding breakfast on a plate. I carefully took the Styrofoam cup from his hand.
            “Thanks,” I murmured, glancing at my son still out cold. “What time is it?”                        Rhick glanced at his gold watch then set my food on a small rolling table. “A little after five,” he stood up then sat down beside me, taking care not to allow our elbows to rub. I sipped warily. The coffee was just the way I like it. “Look, about the shit I said last night about that kid you`re dating . . .”
            A rusty blade jabbed into my side at the mention of Jonah. Where was he? I had sat here next to Rhick for hours, biting the inside of my mouth to keep the tears at bay, worrying over where he could have gone and what would remain of our relationship, if you could really call it a relationship.
            “He`s not a kid, Rhick.” I spoke softly into my creamed and sugared. “He`s twenty-six.”
            “And you`re thirty-six. Jesus, Dana,” he grumbled, swirling dregs of sugared but black in the bottom of his cup.
            “But it`s okay for you to shag a twenty-two year old? God, I hate double-standards,” I seethed, slurping more loudly than I had planned.
            “Well, maybe if you saw the dinner conversation me and the twenty-two year old have, you`d steer clear of that young buck.”
Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
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Tuesday Tales
See you next week!

Monday Author/Book Spotlight - Nikki Belaire`s Wine & Whiskey

Join me in saying hello to the talented Nikki Belaire! She's visiting today to share some info about her new release with Secret Cravings Publishing, Wine & Whiskey.





Nick DeMarco



A wealthy financier with alleged ties to
organized crime. He's arrogant,
stubborn, and obsessed with the quiet,
gentle woman who may not be as delicate
as she seems.


Shae Armstrong


A sheltered pop star living a life created
by others. She's bold on stage, yet
guarded when the lights fade.

Blurb

No longer controlled by her mother, manager, or former fiancé, pop star Shae
Armstrong steps out on her own and into the path of Nick DeMarco, a wealthy
investor with alleged ties to organized crime and real childhood scars to overcome. She
wants to take it slow. He needs her now, in his life and in his bed.

Nick’s enemies threaten her career, her friendships, even her sanity, but not her heart -
the one thing Nick holds precious. He proves his love is real, and she stops running.
Until everything around them falls apart, including him. He swore he would never
hurt her. Instead, he almost destroys them both.

Buoyed by her new-found confidence and strength his love instills in her, Shae makes a
dangerous choice, sacrificing her happiness for his, just like he always does for her.
Unable to let her break the connection between them, Nick accepts the trust she places
in him, the depth of her love giving him the courage to try again.

Now that she’s found her own voice and helped him see who he really is, can Shae
survive the challenges of living in Nick’s world?

Nikki Belaire Biography

Nikki writes contemporary romantic thrillers and admits to a weakness for alpha males
and bad boys, especially ones who can’t live without the strong women they love. She
spends more time in her characters’ lives than her own. But, when she’s in the real
world, her passions include reading, wine appreciating, running, and spending time
with her husband and daughter.

The first book of Nikki’s Surviving Absolution series is Wine & Whiskey , which
launched through Secret Cravings Publishing. Heat level: three flames

Social Media Links

nikkibelaire.com
facebook.com/nikkibelaire
@nikkibelaire

Buy Links

Secret Cravings Publishing
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Bookstrand

Excerpt 1

When the jet begins its descent, Shae turns from the window and looks at him. “Now
are you going to tell me where we are?”
Nick holds up his finger. “Patience. I said when we land.”
His breath catches as she rolls her eyes and laughs, soft and silky, warming him in the
cool cabin. He didn’t think it was possible for her to be more beautiful than she
already is. Her face flushes and eyes sparkle with excitement, matching the hint of
glitter across her bare shoulders, completely exposed with her hair in loose curls behind
her head. He would take a beating just to taste the soft, sweet skin at the base of her
neck.
At the bump of the landing gear rolling across the runway she looks back at him again.
“We’ve landed. Tell me!”
“We’re slightly northeast of wine country. I read an article in one of the business
journals about a man from Indiana re-opening his grandfather’s winery. I thought we
could check it out before he launches.”
“Oh, I love it. I can’t wait.”
Once the pilots open the door and disembark, Max and the two security men
accompanying them file out. She starts to stand up, but he puts his hand on her arm.
Loath to rouse any uncertainty, he attempts a casual tone. “Just a minute, sweetness.
Let Max take care of things first.”
Two black SUVs sit on the tarmac with a young woman wearing a navy blazer
standing next to them. Max talks to her as the other two men open the doors and
inspect the interiors. A slight frown darkens Shae’s angelic face, and his stomach
clenches at her anxiety.
“Is everything okay?”
“It’s just a precaution. I don’t want anything to ruin our day.”
Her lips curl into a smile and she squeezes his hand, releasing some of his tension.
“Nothing will.”
After the inspection is complete, Max signs the woman’s clipboard and takes the keys
from her. Nick pulls Shae up from her seat and leads her down the steps. “Let’s go.”
They drive along the countryside with Max and his team following behind. Tall trees
border farm fields, separating them by owner or crop. A few stray clouds float above
the distant mountains, no barrier to the abundant sunshine.
Resting her head against the seat, she turns to him. “How did you arrange for us to
have such beautiful weather?”
“I’m good at charming angels.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “You’re still as slick as the day I met you.”
He brings her hand to his mouth and kisses each knuckle. Somehow, she saw past his
arrogance and gave him a chance. And somehow, he’s lucky to earn more even when
he fucks up. “You’re still as beautiful.”
“What am I going to do with you?”
“Love me.”

Excerpt 2 (Adult)

Pinkness tints her cheeks as she tilts her head, tucking a strand of hair behind
her ear. Her sudden shyness intoxicates him, a heady combination of adorable and
sexy, making her pleasure his only goal. He slips his hands under her negligee,
lifting it off and tossing it aside. The pressure in his groin almost erupts at
her pink nipples straining taut against his chest.
Keeping him from taking one in his mouth, she slides her delicate hands under
his chin, studying his face, scanning his features as if searching for something
beyond the surface. He freezes under her gaze. She delves deeper than any other
woman, almost farther than he can endure, fearful she’ll pierce the mask hiding
the real him. And, despise what she finds underneath. His voice chokes in his
throat. “What?”
A soft smile graces her angelic face. “Has anyone ever told you how wonderful
you are?”
No. Because no one’s ever thought it but her.
Her mouth finds his. Chaste kisses, smiling against his lips. “And romantic.”
Pressing softly, barely touching. “Thoughtful.” Driving him to the edge as he
resists every urge to devour her. “Sexy.”
Just when he can’t hold back any longer, she thrusts her tongue inside, making
him moan as his fingers slide across her cheeks and into her hair, absorbing all
of her sweet essence. Fighting to control his desire, he breaks away, dipping
his head and flicking his tongue against the hardened nub, keeping her in place
as her back arches. She drives her hands through his hair, wrapping her fingers
around the burgeoning curls on his neck he hates, her breathy whisper like
fireworks against his skin. “These are perfect to hold on to when you make love
to me.”
Okay, maybe they aren’t so bad. She lifts up from straddling him as he grasps
the waistband of her panties. Her fingertips burn his skin in their urgency to
help him push them down. In her raised position, he teases her wet core,
stroking the soft folds before plunging a finger inside. She gasps, her legs
trembling, and begins to lower herself back down. Wrapping his arm around her
waist, he holds her up as she rests her head on his shoulder. His body flames
with need at her lips on his ear. “Your fingers are magic.”
“That’s not my only trick.”
As she whispers his name, her hands move to his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping
them as he lifts up to free himself from the fabric separating them. He reaches
into his pocket and pulls out a foil packet before kicking his pants all the way
off. Her eyes never waver from his as he guides her hips over his throbbing tip.
She slides down his length, her lips parting in a sharp gasp, her small fist
wrapping around his shirt. Pain grips his chest at her hesitation. “Are you
okay?”
A slow smile curls her lips as she nods. “I’ve never been on top. You’re a lot
to take in at once.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m fine.”
Coiling her arms around his neck, she slowly raises and lowers her body, letting
him stretch and fill her, building tension in him begging to be released. Silky
perfection moving under his fingertips. All he can see is her. Nothing else
exists. No barriers between them. Only her sweetness surrounding him, flowing
over him like the purest honey. “Do you know how much I love you?”
She nods, her eyes heavy with desire, locking with his. God, she’s so beautiful.
“How right this is?”
Her head dips again, her gaze boring into his, humbling him with the enormity of
her love.
“How I'm never letting you go?”
Her pace quickens at his words. Their bodies’ slick with sweat, skin sliding
against skin as she accepts him completely. He grasps her hips, grinding into
her while helping her ride him faster and deeper. The rhythm of his hard thrusts
matches her racing heart against his chest, her muscles pulsing and tightening
around him. “Nick, I…”
He can’t hold back, and he’s taking her with him. “Tell me, sweetness.”

Playlist

Hold On, We’re Going Home - Drake
Demons - Imagine Dragons
The Heart Wants What it Wants - Selena Gomez
Say Something - Great Big World
Stay - Rihanna
I Could Not Ask for More - Edwin McCain
Let Her Go - Passenger
Adore You - Miley Cyrus
Clarity - Zedd
Here Without You - Three Doors Down
Far Away - Nickelback

Sunday Ramblings - An Evening on the Pond

For those who may not know it, my family and I are ridge-runners. Yep, we live in the mountains of Pennsylvania in a very small and rural county. I think it is the most beautiful place on earth, but of course everyone thinks that of where they live. And if you don't, you need to move.

We are lucky to have permission to fish on a local farm pond. This time of year we like to pile into the boat and spend an hour or so on the water looking for Mr. Big Bass. While Mister and Miss had some success I caught only weeds. Oh well, it`s not really the tally of fish caught that matters, it`s the time spent with no TV, no cell phones, and nothing but those you love the most close at hand.

Hockey VS. Football - The Great Breakfast Debate

Several days ago, it came to the attention of the Philadelphia Wildcats new Russian forward, Petro Shevenko, that a certain footballer had made disparaging comments about oatmeal and those who eat it. Since Petro knows that I’m friends with the lovely and talented woman who created Griff Montgomery, he rang me up. An irate Russian shouting in your ear about oats and buckwheat at three in the morning is not fun. To spare myself from any other late night calls and the ugliness of sleep deprivation, I contacted Jean Joachim. She agreed to set up a meeting between our two characters so that they could hash out their differences. Ha-ha! Hash, that's funny because this is about breakfast foods and hash browns are—
I told you sleep deprivation wasn`t pretty. You know what, let`s just get to the guys and the great breakfast food debate. We brought the two star athletes together in neutral ground, a diner halfway between where both men play their respective sports. After the two handsome hulks were seated Jean and I simply sat in the booth behind Griff and Petro, sipping coffee, snickering at the puns, and taking notes to share with our readers. Also, if a scrum broke out we could stop it. Yeah, right, as if two authors could tear apart a football player intent on trying to pound a hockey player into gruel.
Speaking of gruel…
(Be warned! These are two athletes. The language is rough and crude. If that offends, now is the time to go visit another blog.) 
I'd like to give a huge thanks to the wonderful Jean Joachim for letting her man Griff come hang out and exchange barbs with Petro. You rock lady! 
*~*~*
Petro: "So, I am hearing that you think oatmeal is for pussies. This is true?"
Griff: "Damn right it is. Mush. That's what you feed babies, right?"*shudders* "Yuck. Pussy food for sure."
Petro: "You are mistaken, ball-fondler. I am growing up on kasha made by my grandmother. Do I look like baby?"
Griff: "I don't fondle any balls. I fondle breasts, but that's another topic. What the eff is kasha, anyway? Your grandmother cooks for you?" *snickers behind hand*. "I guess we know who the ball fondler is here."
Petro:  "My sorry. I thought you only fondled things that could be deflated. And no, she does not cook for me now. My woman does that when she is not too tired from lovemaking. But as child, yes, she makes kasha, or as you American`s call it oatmeal or porridge. Makes men big and strong and hard as rock."
Griff: "I agree that part of you is hard -- your head! My woman makes eggs for me and she's never too tired after a frisky night of love with me. Ever suck down scrambled eggs? All protein. Made me the big strong, invincible guy you see here. And add some bacon or sausage. Crap, I'm getting hungry. Is this a pussy diner? Don't they serve a man's breakfast?"
Griff


Petro: *leans back into seat and folds arms over chest* "No, footballer, it was not my head that is being hard all the time. As for eggs making you invincible? Pft. You spend too much time with your hands between another man's legs. Eggs are chicken droppings. Hot buckwheat with sour cream is what real men eat. I too could use some food."
Griff: Chicken droppings? *laughs* "Gotta admit that was a good one. I'm not gonna tell you where I keep my hands, because Jean will throw a fit. But it sure as hell is NOT between another man's legs. I'm just there to catch the ball. Every child in the U.S. knows that. Maybe babies who eat oatmeal don't know how the game is played. While we're here, I dare you to eat eggs!"
Petro: "Ah, well, it looks much different on the TV. At least in my sport we know where our hands are at all times. Many times, they are fists in the faces of our opponents. Eggs? You would have me eat something that falls out of chicken butt? I will make you deal, Mr. Griff Football Star. I will try some of those egg scrambles if you have heaping bowl of oatmeal."
Griff:  "Fists? You guys fight all the time. Where's the sport? Beat up the other team, then lose when they score while you're thrown in time-out. Yeah. Hockey players get time-out. I guess they all eat oatmeal and get time-out like babies!"*laughs hysterically at his own joke*"A heaping bowl of mush? No way. Two spoonfuls, maybe. I'll be nice and give you bacon and sausage with your eggs."
Petro: "At least we are not hiding behind line of big men while scrambling around like those eggs you are so fond of! Then you are getting sacked and limping off with scratch on finger. We hockey players fight like men, play like men, and fu—"
*Vicki shouts from next booth* "Hey! Language! This isn`t the Wildcats locker room."
"Ugh, she is so bossy at times. Is your creator so bad? No. It must be whole bowl. Do not be pussy. I do not want sausage. Ham is good. Also some tvorog, Russian food similar to your cottage cheese. And coffee. Much strong coffee."
Griff: "Mine is worse. She curses just as much as I do, but if I do it in public--BLAM! She takes my girl out of my bed for a week. Worse than a time-out on the ice."
Petro

Petro: "Oh yes, that is much bad. Taking woman out of bed is vicious. Perhaps our creators should be head coaches. So, do we have deal, Mister Griff Montgomery? "*waves over waitress*
Griff: "Okay. At least our big men are really big, not wearing so much gear they look twice their size to protect them from a scratch or a stick in the balls. Oops."
*From the booth behind him Jean shouts* "Hey! Griff. Watch it!"
 "I'll barf if I have to eat a whole bowl of that crap. Okay. Ham instead of sausage. Do you eat the mush plain? Do you hold your nose when you eat it? How do you get the yucky sliminess out of your mouth? I'm feeling nauseous."*holds belly*
Petro: "For writers they have ears like hawk. What is barf?"
Griff: "Throw up. Toss your cookies. What can I put on that mush to keep it down? Ugh." *Closes eyes, makes face.*
Petro: "Oh, puking up. I understand now. You Americans have weird words. There are many things to top kasha with. My woman likes fruits like strawberry but I eat with only sour cream."
Griff:  "Sour cream? You put something sour on that baby mush? Oh, God. I think I'm going to be sick. "*makes puking noises behind his hand,* "Our words are weird? You have four letters when you only need two. 'Nyet'instead of 'no'. Really? Fruit isn't enough to hide the taste of baby mush that pussies eat."
Petro: *chuckles smugly* "If you were real man, and athlete, you could eat kasha as men do, with only sour cream. Maybe you would like some applesauce on top like Russian babies eat it? Make sure you get bib from server."
Griff:" Real men use kasha to grout the bathtub. It dries as hard as a rock, right? I don't want that cement in my body. My body is a temple. I treat it well, so I can be Super Bowl winning quarterback and fu--oops, make love all night! Russian babies? "*Makes a fist* "Footballers have fists, too."*snarls*.
Petro:  "A temple? Ha,ha! That is puny temple. You would not last five minutes on ice without many big men to hide behind. If you eat kasha you will pleasure your woman for hours like wild Russian stallion!"*hits chest with fist* "Pft. Your womanly fist does not scare me. You wish to bring it here and now, football man?"*shoots to his feet*
*Vicki shouts from next booth* "No fighting! Sheesh. What a couple of blockheads."
Griff: "And you can't even see a guy's butt or his dick in those hockey uniforms. For all you know, it could be all women playing. Who would know? You know when a guy steps on the gridiron."
Petro:" You are looking for dicks when watching hockey? There is something you wish to tell us?"*drops back down as food is placed on table by nervous waitress*

To read the rest,  click here: Jean Joachim - Stories to warm your heart & soul
Want to learn more about Griff Montgomery? Check out his book! 

Amazon Buy Link
Think you want to get to know Petro Shevenko better? Grab his book! 

Amazon

Throwback Thursday Tune

Our month of female rockers continues with this great tune by The Marvelettes!

Mythologically Torqued Release Day!!

Torquere Press is unleashing it`s mightiest anthology onto the mortal world today! If you love tales of gods and goddesses then this massive collection is for you. Inside you'll find both M/M and F/F stories covering many different pantheons. 




I'm thrilled to have my Greek mythos gay short story, Back to the Garden, included in this amazing compilation! Grab your copy now and curl up with a god or goddess this evening.  wink emoticon
Amazon

Tuesday Tales - Twenty

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.


 Today we have the next chapter for Wind in White Birch and our word prompt is "Twenty". Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!
Wind in White Birch


I laid the cell phone to my shoulder, smiled at my son then stepped from the ER cubicle out into the bustling hallway. God, how I wished Jonah had been allowed to come back with us. My head was throbbing unmercifully. Rhick was being Rhick. It took all I had not to scream at the man who was in transit as we spoke.
“So where the hell were you when our son was slowly getting sicker and sicker?”
            I stalked past a small gaggle of women in bright medical smocks gathered at the nurses’ station and blew into a ladies room like a hurricane.
            “I was having dinner,” I said, bending over to check for feet. There weren`t any so I could let him have it with both barrels. “And before one more asinine comment comes flowing from your mouth, I had picked him up by ten and he was fine, just cranky.”
            “And it never occurred to you to ask what was wrong with him? You know how he gets when his ears are bothering him. Maybe if you weren`t so concerned with spreading your legs for that punk ass Indian bastard you`d be able to be a good mother.”
            The phone went dead in my hand. I looked at the Nokia then threw it against the wall. How dare he accuse me of putting my wants before Rhett`s? My hands were shaking strongly as I knelt down to clean up the twenty or so bits of busted plastic then toss them in the trash. I found my reflection in the mirror. I looked like hell. Rhett had thrown up in the truck. I had been sitting in the back with him, his head resting on my breast. My new dress – the one I would need a loan to pay off – was now ruined. Jonah`s truck was a ghastly mess. I had bags under my eyes and my skin looked blotchy and sallow in this horrible hospital lighting.
My hands splayed on the edge of a white sink. My head fell forward. If only I hadn`t been so obsessed with Jonah I would have noticed the signs. But no, I was so intent on getting my hands on the man I let my son get sicker than I should have. I was wearing my maternal guilt like a scarlet letter. S for slut should be pinned to my breast for the world to see.
I cursed and cried. The door opened. I rushed to turn on the taps and splash cold water on my face. Dabbing uselessly at the speckles of water dotting my dress I slid past a chubby woman in fleece and returned to my son`s cubicle.
Rhett was pale and in pain but I could see that the doctor and his wonder meds were having a positive effect already. The lad`s face wasn`t quite as pinched. His temperature was slipping down from the 104.3 it had been when we had been admitted. He had actually drifted off, although his sleep was far from restful. I plopped down in one of two chairs beside his bed, my head lolling to the left to rest on the cool tiled wall. How long I sat there listening to my baby breath I can`t say. His father entering his tiny room startled me from the land of half-sleep.
I met my ex-husband`s baleful glower with one of my own.
“Is he feeling better?” Rhick asked, moving to the bed to place his hand on Rhett`s furrowed brow.
“A little bit maybe,” I yawned then folded my son`s soiled coat over my lap. Rhick pushed back the boy's too long bangs then placed a kiss to his brow.
“Can I see you in the corridor?” Rhick asked, tucking the regulation blue hospital blanket under his son`s chin. I slowly got to my feet, wondering how I looked to the man I had been married to for all those years. Vomit on my dress, sneakers on my feet, my hair in disarray, and my face puffy from anxiety and tears. I pulled the door gently closed behind me then turned to look up at my ex. His handsome face was a seething cauldron of conflicting emotions.
            “Rhick,” I said wearily but he jumped over my unspoken plea like some rabid verbal hurdler.
            “I cannot believeI saw that damned kid you`re screwing sitting out there in the waiting room,” he seethed, his anger barely contained, his hands gesticulating wildly. I glanced at the staff moving past us. “Was he in my son`s house fucking you when Rhett was getting sick?”
            I swear I do not recall slapping him. I hadn`t planned it certainly. One moment I was standing there, looking like the hangdog I always did when Rhick was chewing me out. Then – Ker-Slap! – My palm was connecting with his cheek. Stunned, I blinked at the red mark on Rhick`s fair skin. He reached for me with a viscous sneer. I danced in reverse. Jonah appeared from nowhere. Later I would find out that all Jonah had to do was stand up and look around the glass partition to see into Rhett`s room. I bounced off the wall when the blur of black hair and wide back stepped between my ex and me.
            “You want to lay hands on someone, big man, lay your hands on me.” The warning rumbled from within Jonah`s chest. Nurses were already scurrying to intercede. All I could hear was someone on the intercom paging a Dr. Wilson and the nurses hissing “Sir! Sir! You`re not allowed back here!” and “Only family is allowed back here. Sir! Sir! Don’t make me call security!”
            Jonah gave Rhick a shove that sent him flying forcefully into the nurse`s station. I was shocked at the power Jonah possessed in one hand. Rhick is no small man who keeps in shape. If not for the appearance of a rather mountainous orderly, I know Rhick would have come out swinging.
            “Jonah, just come with me, okay?” I cajoled, tugging on his left arm until he started to follow me. The air was thick with barely veiled hatred. I managed to get the livid Seneca man out into the waiting room. Jonah grabbed his suit jacket from a chair then stormed outside nearly ripping the sliding door from its track so great was his desire to get into the frigid air.
             I followed him out into the cold of the day after Valentine`s. Calling him was doing no good. He was on a direct intercept course for his truck. I lunged at him, my fingers managing to get a grip on his black woolen sleeve. He shook me off, his long legs gnawing up the parking lot. I stopped double stepping to keep up with him.
            “Jonah, look at me damn it!” I shouted, my words bouncing off an idling ambulance. He stopped and turned. I shut my mouth.
            “Go back inside, Dana. Your son needs you.”
            “I`m not going back inside without you,” I argued, feeling a chasm beginning to open.
            “Yeah, you are. You`re going back in there with your son, you`re his family,” Jonah said dully.
            “You`re important to him too,” I said weakly.
            “No, not really, I`m just some guy his mom is dating.” He raised his eyes to the sky, searching for something but I didn’t know what. “You can`t see the stars here. Did you know that?” He brought his dark, dark eyes back to me. “I don`t belong here, Dana, not when a family crisis is happening. Rhick belongs here, not me.”
            “Don`t you dare get in that truck and go back to New York!” I yelled with my hands tucked under my armpits. “You belong here if I say you do!”
            Johan shook his head. That chasm I mentioned earlier? It wasn`t a rift in the ground opening up, it was a tear starting in my heart.
            “No, I don`t.”
“Where are you going?” I demanded when he spun to show me his stiff back.
He never did tell me. He just drove off, leaving me standing beside an ambulance, fingertips crammed into armpits, cheeks wet, and heart ripping in two.




Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Click on the link below to return to the Tuesday Tales main blog for more great reads from the talented authors of Tuesday Tales.
Tuesday Tales

Monday Author/Book Spotlight: Elley Arden`s Love at Bat Bundle

Ah, the boys of summer. If you're a fan of baseball, or just sports romances, you may want to check out Elley Arden`s baseball bundle! 







It's root, root, root for the home team as these sexy boys of summer take their turns at bat. The Kemmons brothers have it all - the money, the moves, the connections - but they haven't hit home runs in love. Until now.Save My Soul: Baseball agent Jordon Kemmons has a problem the usual experts can't fix: his star pitcher is too depressed to throw strikes. If desperate times call for desperate measures, then cynical Jordon has made the most desperate move of all. He's hoping sexy psychotherapist Maggie Collins is the answer to all his prayers.Change My Mind: Centerfielder Grey Kemmons is spending the off-season renovating the house he inherited from his father. When spitfire Nel Parker shows up wanting to list the house, their strictly business relationship soon gets very personal.Heal My Heart: Dr. Tag Howard wants nothing to do with the Kemmons. He's made his own way as an MLB team doctor, and is determined to steer clear of the family that abandoned him . . . until female footballer MJ Rooney crashes into his life with a concussion and a fresh perspective.Trade Off: Traded and jaded, catcher Ben Border is considering stepping out from behind the plate. Then he runs into former flame Scarlett Dare. The sexy marketing executive still sends him into a fever pitch, but is she willing to trade Fortune 500 success for a happily ever after?Buy it now! 
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Excerpt:
Jordon didn’t stop at the end of the cart. He came around and grabbed her by the hips. “We’re done with this conversation. I’m not going to let you push me away because of your misguided notions and over analysis.”Her mouth opened at his absurd insults. Before she could say a word, his fingers rested on her chin and he closed her jaw. “Maggie, transference is bull shit. Freud was a flake. You shrinks like to wield power over weak-minded patients. I’m not weak, and I’m not your patient.” He slid his thumb across her bottom lip. “I do…feel exactly the way I said I do, but I won’t say it again until I’m damn sure you’re going to say it back. Until then, keep your shrink wrap away from my head. There’s enough going on in there without you digging around.”Despite the hypnotic sensation of his thumb stroking her lip, she couldn’t keep quiet anymore. “I find you offensive.”“No you don’t.”Jordon leaned his face closer, and she swallowed. Her tongue reflexively brushed over her lip, tasting the tip of his thumb. He stepped into her, and she swallowed again, knowing his mouth would be covering hers in the middle of a busy supermarket. But the minute his arm wound around her waist, she didn’t care where they were. She wanted him to take what he wanted and leave her begging for more.

Happy Mother`s Day

Throwback Thursday Tune

Welcome to May, the month of the girl group! All month we'll be enjoying women who rock. Let`s kick things off with The Crystals!