Laurel Richards's Blog - Posts Tagged "guest-blog"
Guest Blogging at Allie Ritch's
I'm participating with a one-liner from my werewolf romance, Wild Side, in Allie Ritch's multi-author post at http://allieritch.wordpress.com/2014/...
Naughty and Nice Romance
Today (5/7/16), I'm guest blogging at Naughty and Nice Romance about my humorous romantic mystery, The Clam Festival Murders. Come check it out at https://naughtyandniceromance.com/201...
Interview with Mitch and Cassie from The Clam Festival Murders
Read an interview with Mitch and Cassie from my humorous romantic mystery, The Clam Festival Murders. I'm on Annette Mardis's blog at http://www.annettemardis.com/blog/the...
Guest Blog: Barbara's Redemption by Diane Saxon
Today I have author Diane Saxon guest blogging with me, sharing her new book, Barbara's Redemption. Welcome, Diane!
Black Hawk pilot Captain Barbara Lynn Perry is running scared. Witness to an event too horrible to think about and too dangerous to talk of, she finds herself alienated from a world she has always had faith in.
With her Special Forces brother missing, she has only one other person to turn to. When her friend Flynn Swann isn’t available, Barbara is left with no choice but to trust the man Flynn sends to save her.
Psychiatrist Dominic Salter’s information from her superior officer’s file is that Barbara has gone rogue. Despite the damning evidence, every instinct tells him he’s dealing with an honorable woman, one who single-handedly saved Flynn from torture and a sure death. Dominic’s challenge is to delve his way beneath her tough, defensive attitude and coax the truth from a woman who’s too frightened to reveal her dark secret.
In his brand new facility containing a state of the art Dreampsych Transcender he’s experimenting with, a machine far beyond a simulator, Dominic has to gain the trust and confidence of Barbara while he resists the hard pull of attraction to this kick-ass woman.
Betrayed by a member of his staff, events take a sinister turn, and the pressure is on in a fight against time for Dominic to persuade Barbara to put her trust in him and reveal the truth before matters are taken out of his hands.
Order Links
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Barbaras-Red...
Amazon.Com: https://www.amazon.com/Barbaras-Redem...
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebo...
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/barb...
Excerpt
Her eyes flew open in a frenzied panic at the touch of a hand on her shoulder.
She surged to her feet and a red haze covered her vision from the violence of her memories. She knocked the dark figure above her onto his ass and spared him a brief, pitiful smile. She leaned in to appreciate the quick flash of surprise when he realized she’d relieved him of the gun he’d had tucked in his holster, neatly concealed under his thick cable-knit sweater. She held it to his temple. Ice formed to protect her heart. Self-preservation was paramount.
“It’s okay, Barbara. It was only a dream.” Her vision cleared while she stared into his tranquil features. “You’re safe, it was only a dream.”
But it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory, and nothing about it was okay.
Calmer, she scanned his face. Eyes soft as a rain-filled sky overflowed with empathy.
Barbara brought her face close to his. She’d seen fear many times and with varying degrees, but there was no fear from Dominic, just an innate patience as he waited for her to make her move.
Her mistake was touching him. She reached out her free hand and curved it around the back of his neck. The heat of his skin penetrated her iciness, warming the palm of her hand to remind her she was human and she held a human life at her mercy.
Not yet ready to acknowledge that humanity, she leaned in, her nose almost touching his. “What’s a good professor like you doing with a gun?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up as he kept his unwavering gaze on her. “Security. We have some very expensive equipment here. I am licensed.”
“You weren’t very secure, were you, Professor?”
“Dominic.”
“Yeah. That shit. Get me to call you by your name, we start to bond. Well, I’m not ready to bond, Prof.”
His low rumbling chuckle vibrated through her fingers. The guy had some balls to be able to laugh, even if it was a forced one. He leaned back on his elbows so she had to either let go of her hold on his neck or go with him. She rolled onto her knees so they pressed against his chest, surprised at the hard muscle she found there. Her position was a little precarious if he decided to flip her over, but she was still the one holding the gun to his head.
She gnawed at her bottom lip as she contemplated her options while the psychiatrist stared with endless patience in his deep, fathomless eyes until she made up her mind. With a regretful cluck, she shuffled back off Dominic’s body to rest on her haunches by his side. She should probably give him the benefit of the doubt.
She turned the gun around, offered him the handle, and as he took it, a thought occurred to her. “Is it loaded?”
His genuine smile spread wide, lightening his dark features as he sat upright to tuck the gun into its holster.
“It is.”
She came to her feet and offered her hand to help him up, unreasonably pleased when he took it and rolled to his feet, keeping a firm grip on her. His palm should have been damp with sweat. Instead it was warm and dry. There was no softness to it, which was contrary to the rest of the image he portrayed.
“So, what do we do now, Professor?” She tilted her head to look up at him. It wasn’t difficult for anyone to be taller than she was, but he didn’t have the imposing height many of the soldiers she knew had. He was nowhere near as tall as the gorilla he employed, who probably topped six feet four. No, the solid professor was most likely just around the six feet mark, wide shoulders, his muscles were pretty well defined. She’d bet money he didn’t spend all day behind a desk in his cozy little gray-knit cardigan. She raked her gaze over him. He was a man of action.
Disappointed at the cool emptiness he left behind when he removed his hand from hers, she watched, intrigued, as he turned his back, apparently unconcerned that she could just whip the gun from him again. She’d made her point; he’d shown his trust. She didn’t feel the need to test him any further. It puzzled her why he should feel the need to carry a gun for security when the facility wasn’t commissioned and the only guest was her.
She studied him as he leaned over the desk, her opinion of the gentle professor evolving. There was definitely no need for him to carry a gun. Unless he knew something she didn’t. Unless Strachan had contacted him.
When he turned back, he held her file in one hand, his glasses in the other. “I think we can get to work. Come on. This way.”
Where to Find Diane Saxon
Author Website: http://dianesaxon.com/
Author Blog: http://www.dianesaxon.com/blogspot.html
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authordianes...
Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/Diane_Saxon
Goodreads Author: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...
Author Amazon Profile Page: http://amzn.to/IVkWnn
About the Author
Diane Saxon lives in the Shropshire countryside with her tall, dark, handsome husband, two gorgeous daughters, a Dalmatian, one-eyed kitten, ginger cat, four chickens and a new black Labrador puppy called Beau, whose name has been borrowed for her hero in For Heaven's Cakes.
After working for years in a demanding job, on-call and travelling great distances, Diane gave it all up when her husband said “follow that dream”.
Having been hidden all too long, her characters have burst forth demanding plot lines of their own and she’s found the more she lets them, the more they’re inclined to run wild.
Previous Books:
Loving Lydia -Atlantic Divide Book 1
Bad Girl Bill – Atlantic Divide Book 2
Finding Zoe - Atlantic Divide Book 3
Flight of Her Life
Flynn’s Kiss – Disarmed & Dangerous Book 1
Short Circuit Time
For Heaven’s Cakes
Banshee Seduction – Montgomery’s Sin, Book 1
Black Hawk pilot Captain Barbara Lynn Perry is running scared. Witness to an event too horrible to think about and too dangerous to talk of, she finds herself alienated from a world she has always had faith in.
With her Special Forces brother missing, she has only one other person to turn to. When her friend Flynn Swann isn’t available, Barbara is left with no choice but to trust the man Flynn sends to save her.
Psychiatrist Dominic Salter’s information from her superior officer’s file is that Barbara has gone rogue. Despite the damning evidence, every instinct tells him he’s dealing with an honorable woman, one who single-handedly saved Flynn from torture and a sure death. Dominic’s challenge is to delve his way beneath her tough, defensive attitude and coax the truth from a woman who’s too frightened to reveal her dark secret.
In his brand new facility containing a state of the art Dreampsych Transcender he’s experimenting with, a machine far beyond a simulator, Dominic has to gain the trust and confidence of Barbara while he resists the hard pull of attraction to this kick-ass woman.
Betrayed by a member of his staff, events take a sinister turn, and the pressure is on in a fight against time for Dominic to persuade Barbara to put her trust in him and reveal the truth before matters are taken out of his hands.
Order Links
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Barbaras-Red...
Amazon.Com: https://www.amazon.com/Barbaras-Redem...
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebo...
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/barb...
Excerpt
Her eyes flew open in a frenzied panic at the touch of a hand on her shoulder.
She surged to her feet and a red haze covered her vision from the violence of her memories. She knocked the dark figure above her onto his ass and spared him a brief, pitiful smile. She leaned in to appreciate the quick flash of surprise when he realized she’d relieved him of the gun he’d had tucked in his holster, neatly concealed under his thick cable-knit sweater. She held it to his temple. Ice formed to protect her heart. Self-preservation was paramount.
“It’s okay, Barbara. It was only a dream.” Her vision cleared while she stared into his tranquil features. “You’re safe, it was only a dream.”
But it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory, and nothing about it was okay.
Calmer, she scanned his face. Eyes soft as a rain-filled sky overflowed with empathy.
Barbara brought her face close to his. She’d seen fear many times and with varying degrees, but there was no fear from Dominic, just an innate patience as he waited for her to make her move.
Her mistake was touching him. She reached out her free hand and curved it around the back of his neck. The heat of his skin penetrated her iciness, warming the palm of her hand to remind her she was human and she held a human life at her mercy.
Not yet ready to acknowledge that humanity, she leaned in, her nose almost touching his. “What’s a good professor like you doing with a gun?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up as he kept his unwavering gaze on her. “Security. We have some very expensive equipment here. I am licensed.”
“You weren’t very secure, were you, Professor?”
“Dominic.”
“Yeah. That shit. Get me to call you by your name, we start to bond. Well, I’m not ready to bond, Prof.”
His low rumbling chuckle vibrated through her fingers. The guy had some balls to be able to laugh, even if it was a forced one. He leaned back on his elbows so she had to either let go of her hold on his neck or go with him. She rolled onto her knees so they pressed against his chest, surprised at the hard muscle she found there. Her position was a little precarious if he decided to flip her over, but she was still the one holding the gun to his head.
She gnawed at her bottom lip as she contemplated her options while the psychiatrist stared with endless patience in his deep, fathomless eyes until she made up her mind. With a regretful cluck, she shuffled back off Dominic’s body to rest on her haunches by his side. She should probably give him the benefit of the doubt.
She turned the gun around, offered him the handle, and as he took it, a thought occurred to her. “Is it loaded?”
His genuine smile spread wide, lightening his dark features as he sat upright to tuck the gun into its holster.
“It is.”
She came to her feet and offered her hand to help him up, unreasonably pleased when he took it and rolled to his feet, keeping a firm grip on her. His palm should have been damp with sweat. Instead it was warm and dry. There was no softness to it, which was contrary to the rest of the image he portrayed.
“So, what do we do now, Professor?” She tilted her head to look up at him. It wasn’t difficult for anyone to be taller than she was, but he didn’t have the imposing height many of the soldiers she knew had. He was nowhere near as tall as the gorilla he employed, who probably topped six feet four. No, the solid professor was most likely just around the six feet mark, wide shoulders, his muscles were pretty well defined. She’d bet money he didn’t spend all day behind a desk in his cozy little gray-knit cardigan. She raked her gaze over him. He was a man of action.
Disappointed at the cool emptiness he left behind when he removed his hand from hers, she watched, intrigued, as he turned his back, apparently unconcerned that she could just whip the gun from him again. She’d made her point; he’d shown his trust. She didn’t feel the need to test him any further. It puzzled her why he should feel the need to carry a gun for security when the facility wasn’t commissioned and the only guest was her.
She studied him as he leaned over the desk, her opinion of the gentle professor evolving. There was definitely no need for him to carry a gun. Unless he knew something she didn’t. Unless Strachan had contacted him.
When he turned back, he held her file in one hand, his glasses in the other. “I think we can get to work. Come on. This way.”
Where to Find Diane Saxon
Author Website: http://dianesaxon.com/
Author Blog: http://www.dianesaxon.com/blogspot.html
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authordianes...
Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/Diane_Saxon
Goodreads Author: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...
Author Amazon Profile Page: http://amzn.to/IVkWnn
About the Author
Diane Saxon lives in the Shropshire countryside with her tall, dark, handsome husband, two gorgeous daughters, a Dalmatian, one-eyed kitten, ginger cat, four chickens and a new black Labrador puppy called Beau, whose name has been borrowed for her hero in For Heaven's Cakes.
After working for years in a demanding job, on-call and travelling great distances, Diane gave it all up when her husband said “follow that dream”.
Having been hidden all too long, her characters have burst forth demanding plot lines of their own and she’s found the more she lets them, the more they’re inclined to run wild.
Previous Books:
Loving Lydia -Atlantic Divide Book 1
Bad Girl Bill – Atlantic Divide Book 2
Finding Zoe - Atlantic Divide Book 3
Flight of Her Life
Flynn’s Kiss – Disarmed & Dangerous Book 1
Short Circuit Time
For Heaven’s Cakes
Banshee Seduction – Montgomery’s Sin, Book 1
Guest Blog: Bad Day in a Banana Hammock by Stuart R. West
Today, author Stuart R. West is here to share his comedic cozy mystery, Bad Day in a Banana Hammock. As those of you who have read my Cassie Wynn Mysteries know, I love a good whodunit that makes me laugh. So without further ado, welcome, Stuart!_
Bad Day in a Banana Hammock is my first straight-up comedy. It’s a cozy mystery. Sorta. Gone are teacups, replaced by male g-strings. A femme fatale using the (false?) name of “Kat” replaces the customary kitties. Comfy chats about food are relegated to spam and fast-food burgers. But it’s a cozy, I tell you!
Here, this explains it better:
Zach wakes up with no memory, no phone, and no clothes except his stripper g-string. And oh yeah! There’s that pesky naked dead guy in bed next to him. Problem is Zach’s not gay. Or a murderer. At least, he doesn’t think so. Only one person can help him, his sister, Zora. Of course Zora’s got problems of her own—she has three kids at home and is eight month’s pregnant with the fourth. So she’s a bit cranky. But that’s not going to stop her from helping her brother. With kids in tow, the siblings set how to find the true killer, clear Zach’s name, and reassure Zach he’s not gay.
Full disclosure time: I wrote the book on a dare. A writer friend dared me to pen a book about a vapid male stripper involved in a mystery. I did it. But it’s his sister that’s proving to be the fan favorite. Zora is a very pregnant, very irritable ex-detective who knows her stuff and ain’t afraid to use a gun. Forget about getting her husband dinner on time...the game is afoot!
“An hilarious murder mystery romp. Ride along with Zach and Zora on this most entertaining of mysteries.”
-Heather Brainerd, author of the Jose Picada, P.I. mystery series.
“A fun, quirky whodunit so full of wild antics, it will keep you guessing...when you’re not giggling.”
-Heather Greenis, author of The Natasha Saga.
“Bad Day in a Banana Hammock will have you wiping up tears of hysterical laughter.”
-Suzanne de Montigney, author of the Shadow of the Unicorn series.
Buy it here:
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Banana-Hammock-...
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Banana-Hammo...
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Banana-Hammock-...
__
Excerpt:
Zora stared into the dryer, stuck in the deep knee bend of advanced pregnancy. Unable to get up. Of course that’s when the doorbell rang, the way it always seems to happen. Her knees wobbled, unsteady, threatening to dump her over. In her condition, she felt less than athletic.
“I’ll get it,” screamed Nikki, her six year old. Always ready to open the door to strangers, but can’t open and shut a clothes dryer. Maybe if Zora installed a TV above it.
By the time Zora rolled onto her side and negotiated the six-point maneuver necessary to get to her knees, the real screaming started.
Nikki. Justin caterwauled alongside her.
Eight months pregnant or not, Zora bounced to her feet.
Hold on, kids! Mom’s coming to the rescue!
She looked hurriedly around for the closest potential weapon and grabbed a bottle of stain remover. Hey! Any old port in a storm! Bottle in hand, she hustled down the hallway.
Nikki stood in the open doorway, still yelling at the top of her lungs. Her hands were fastened over her four year old brother’s eyes, not so much his screaming mouth. Zora took one look over her daughter’s head and joined the line-up, her hands slapping down over Nikki’s eyes. Figures. Zora’s brother Zach stood outside wearing nothing but a fur coat, a golden thong and a stupid, shameless grin.
“What in the…what now, Zach?” She turned her linked entourage away, shushing them.
“Oh my God, Zora, you’ve gotta help me! I’ve had the worst day! My wallet and phone and pants are missing, and I’m not gay, and I woke up next to a dead guy, and I just spent 45 minutes singing the EZ Brite song with a cab-driver, and he can’t sing at all, and—”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Like a traffic cop, Zora stuck her hand up. Zach could never tell a story for his life. Or keep it together in a crisis. Something she’d come to expect from him over the years. “Back up a minute. What’s this about a dead guy? No…wait…” She bent over, lightning ripping up and down her spine. “Kids, it’s just Uncle Zach. I need to talk grown-up stuff. Go do your homework.”
“It’s summer, Mommy!”
“Well go play, watch TV, torture the neighbor…whatever you do all day.”
They scampered off at a dangerous inside sprint, singing the EZ Brite song. “EZ Brite takes out the greeennn…”
“Get in here, Zach! Before the neighbors see you!” Still holding the stain remover, she wagged him in. Then thumped him in the head with the bottle.
“Owwww, dammit! Why’d you do that?”
“Because I know you and I know this isn’t gonna be good.”
“Come on, sis.” His grin blossomed into a face-wide smile, one that never worked on her. “I didn’t do anything. Really.”
“Yeah, right.”
He jacked a thumb behind him. “Um, I sorta told my cab driver you’d pay him. Please? Cash only, Bennie doesn’t like plastic. You know I’m good for it.”
Good for nothing, more like. With a sigh, she grabbed her purse.
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Banana-Hammock-...
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Banana-Hammo...
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Banana-Hammock-...
__
Author Links
Blog: http://stuartrwest.blogspot.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/StuartRWest
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/stuartrwestw...#
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Stuart-R.-West/...
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/...
Google+: https://plus.google.com/1019342002841...
Guest Blog: Programmed To Please by Jenna Ives
Award-winning author Jenna Ives writes contemporary and science-fiction romance. She’s my guest today!
___
Thanks for hosting me today, Laurel!
A little known fact about me: When I was eleven years old, I decided I wanted to be an astronaut. But since I get sick on roller coasters, I figured space travel wasn’t really a viable career option, so I became a sci-fi author instead! (Not at age eleven, of course, although I did actually write my first action adventure story at age eleven, which was published in my elementary school newsletter…)
I write sci-fi romances with high stakes and lots of conflict. I particularly enjoy dropping my two main characters into an impossible situation, and then watch the sparks fly as they try to resist falling in love!
That’s exactly what happens in the first book of my new series The Tau Cetus Chronicles, which is called Programmed To Please.
Here’s the blurb:
Very human Tau Cetus police agent Jai Turner is sent undercover as a Beautiful Dolls sex robot in order to bring down the planet’s most notorious arms dealer, Marque Callex. The police have never been able to get close to Callex, and Jai’s assignment is to uncover information on his illicit weapons dealings that will lead to his conviction.
Reclusive arms dealer Marque Callex only accepts an invitation from Beautiful Dolls because with his deadly line of work – and the dangerous secrets he’s keeping – he can’t afford to let a real woman into his life. But neither Jai nor Marque are what they seem, and their week together has consequences neither expect.
Programmed To Please is a HOLT Medallion merit award-winner, and if the premise sounds interesting to you, here’s a short excerpt:
“Turner, I’m sending you undercover as a Beautiful Dolls sex toy.”
Police agent Jai Turner stared at her boss, Commander Talis Rainey, convinced she couldn’t possibly have heard him right. She and her partner, Leith Wyatt, had been called into his office at the end of their duty shift, and she was in no mood for a joke.
She shifted tiredly on her feet in front of his desk. “Sir?”
For an answer, Rainey leaned forward in his chair and pushed a button on the console on his desk. “Send in Mr. Carron.”
A minute later, a short man stood in the doorway. His eyes darted around nervously before taking an apparently reluctant step into the room. He was such a stereotype that Jai felt herself stiffen. Thick glasses… hair askew… frankly, all he needed was a lab coat with a pocket protector to complete the picture. Savant. Adept. Carbon-copier.
Maybe her boss hadn’t been making a joke.
Rainey cleared his throat. “This is Anson Carron. The creator of Beautiful Dolls.”
If the abrupt and impersonal introduction annoyed their guest, he didn’t show it. His eyes had locked on Jai, and were scanning her up and down in a way that felt decidedly intimate despite the generic, navy blue one-piece uniform that she and everyone else on the Tau Cetus police force wore.
“Yes,” he murmured. “I suppose I can work with this.”
“This,” Rainey said hotly, “is Jai Turner, one of my best agents. She’s human.”
The little man seemed lost in his own train of thought. “She meets his prime criteria. Of course, it would be better if I could see her without her clothes on before I make a final assessment.”
What? Jai stiffened even more. “Commander!”
Rainey let out a loud sigh, then glanced at Jai and the two men. “Sit. All of you.”
The three of them took the hard chairs arrayed around Rainey’s desk. Jai crossed her arms and legs defensively, and even Wyatt turned his chair around to straddle it. It was obvious neither one of them anticipated liking whatever the Commander might be about to say.
Rainey ran a hand through his grey-black hair and looked at the partners. “Before I start, I have one thing to say to you. Marque Callex.”
Jai gasped. “What?”
That changed everything. The infamous name had both her and Wyatt leaning forward in their chairs, now eagerly waiting for Rainey’s next words.
“You know how long we’ve been trying to get close to this guy. We may now have a chance, albeit by a very unconventional route.” Rainey nodded toward their guest. “A month ago, Mr. Carron here ran afoul of the law. And in an effort to save his neck – and his very lucrative business – he suggested a unique proposal in return for us not pursuing charges against him.”
“What kind of proposal?” Wyatt asked.
“A clever one, as it turns out.” Rainey smirked. “Mr. Carron agreed to send an… invitation… to Marque Callex, in the guise of offering ‘a select number of high-powered businessmen’ the chance to sample the latest model of Beautiful Doll for free, in exchange for their feedback on the product. In reality, Callex was the only person to get this invitation.”
Jai’s mouth set in a disgusted line. “And he accepted.”
“He did,” Rainey confirmed. “It was a gamble, but it paid off. In this supposed ‘latest model,’ clients are able to customize their girl. Callex filled out the form specifying the criteria of his ideal Beautiful Doll, and now all we have to do is fulfill his requirements.” The Commander gave Jai a pointed stare. “With you.”
Jai’s eyes went wide. “You want me to impersonate a sexbot?”
“He’s requested certain specifics,” Anson Carron spoke up. “Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Lean, athletic build.”
Jai let out a relieved breath. “Well, that rules me out. I’m brown-haired and brown-eyed.”
“Easily fixed,” her boss pointed out. “You fit the most important characteristic: athletic build. We can’t fake that, but we can correct the other things with hair dye and contact lenses.”
Jai leaned forward in her chair. “Sir, do you really believe a man who can have any model of girl he wants, would pick a B-cup and not a triple-D? For a sexbot? Come on, Commander. Are you sure Callex is even serious about this?”
Rainey stroked his chin thoughtfully, and then shrugged. “Well, we’ll have our answer on Monday if he shows up at the Beautiful Dolls boudoir. Until then, prepping you for the assignment is the way we’re going to proceed. That is, if you’re agreeable.”
Jai scowled. There was absolutely no way she was going to volunteer for this. Have sex on command? Not a chance. Not even to bring down a man they’d long been after for suspected weapons smuggling. Besides, she could never pass for a sexbot. She had a heartbeat, for goodness sake!
Rainey sighed into the stubborn silence. “Do I really need to play the Joran Breaux card with either of you?”
A spark of anger shot through Jai, even as she heard Wyatt shift uncomfortably on his chair. Joran was the second – and definitely much more personal – reason they were after Marque Callex. Joran had been sent in to infiltrate Callex Industries from the inside, to discover how one of the government’s top weapons contractors was secretly diverting arms to militant countries. Joran’s cover as an employee had seemed secure until two months ago, when the police force had lost contact with him on the very day he’d scheduled a meeting with Marque Callex. Three weeks later, Joran’s body had turned up – in pieces – in a recycling center a hundred clicks away.
Joran had been Wyatt’s partner before Jai.
Jai would relish the chance to avenge the death of a fellow Tau Cetus agent, but was becoming a sex slave really the best way to do it?
Rainey scowled. “You know how long we’ve been trying to get to Marque Callex. This may be our best chance. But if you’re not up to it, Turner, I’ll find another female agent with athletic build who’s more committed to her job.”
Crap. Now Rainey was doubting Jai’s dedication to the force. Silence stretched in the room while Jai considered her options. Her very limited options. As in, none.
“I’ll do it.”
“What?”
Jai’s mouth set into a mulish line. What real choice did she have? Marque Callex needed to be stopped.
“I said I’ll do it. If this is our best – and possibly only – chance to get to him, then I’m in.”
Programmed To Please is the first in a trilogy of Tau Cetus Chronicles. If it sounds like a fun read to you, here are some buy links:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Programmed-Ple...
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/progr...
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/prog...
KOBO: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebo...
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view...
I love to connect with readers and other authors! Hit me up one of these ways: website: http://www.jennaives.com/ ; email: jenna@jennaives.com; blog: http://fierceromance.blogspot.com/ ; Twitter @JennaIvesAuthor; or on Facebook or Goodreads!
Thanks so much to Laurel for hosting me today!
Jenna
___
Thanks for hosting me today, Laurel!
A little known fact about me: When I was eleven years old, I decided I wanted to be an astronaut. But since I get sick on roller coasters, I figured space travel wasn’t really a viable career option, so I became a sci-fi author instead! (Not at age eleven, of course, although I did actually write my first action adventure story at age eleven, which was published in my elementary school newsletter…)
I write sci-fi romances with high stakes and lots of conflict. I particularly enjoy dropping my two main characters into an impossible situation, and then watch the sparks fly as they try to resist falling in love!
That’s exactly what happens in the first book of my new series The Tau Cetus Chronicles, which is called Programmed To Please.
Here’s the blurb:
Very human Tau Cetus police agent Jai Turner is sent undercover as a Beautiful Dolls sex robot in order to bring down the planet’s most notorious arms dealer, Marque Callex. The police have never been able to get close to Callex, and Jai’s assignment is to uncover information on his illicit weapons dealings that will lead to his conviction.
Reclusive arms dealer Marque Callex only accepts an invitation from Beautiful Dolls because with his deadly line of work – and the dangerous secrets he’s keeping – he can’t afford to let a real woman into his life. But neither Jai nor Marque are what they seem, and their week together has consequences neither expect.
Programmed To Please is a HOLT Medallion merit award-winner, and if the premise sounds interesting to you, here’s a short excerpt:
“Turner, I’m sending you undercover as a Beautiful Dolls sex toy.”
Police agent Jai Turner stared at her boss, Commander Talis Rainey, convinced she couldn’t possibly have heard him right. She and her partner, Leith Wyatt, had been called into his office at the end of their duty shift, and she was in no mood for a joke.
She shifted tiredly on her feet in front of his desk. “Sir?”
For an answer, Rainey leaned forward in his chair and pushed a button on the console on his desk. “Send in Mr. Carron.”
A minute later, a short man stood in the doorway. His eyes darted around nervously before taking an apparently reluctant step into the room. He was such a stereotype that Jai felt herself stiffen. Thick glasses… hair askew… frankly, all he needed was a lab coat with a pocket protector to complete the picture. Savant. Adept. Carbon-copier.
Maybe her boss hadn’t been making a joke.
Rainey cleared his throat. “This is Anson Carron. The creator of Beautiful Dolls.”
If the abrupt and impersonal introduction annoyed their guest, he didn’t show it. His eyes had locked on Jai, and were scanning her up and down in a way that felt decidedly intimate despite the generic, navy blue one-piece uniform that she and everyone else on the Tau Cetus police force wore.
“Yes,” he murmured. “I suppose I can work with this.”
“This,” Rainey said hotly, “is Jai Turner, one of my best agents. She’s human.”
The little man seemed lost in his own train of thought. “She meets his prime criteria. Of course, it would be better if I could see her without her clothes on before I make a final assessment.”
What? Jai stiffened even more. “Commander!”
Rainey let out a loud sigh, then glanced at Jai and the two men. “Sit. All of you.”
The three of them took the hard chairs arrayed around Rainey’s desk. Jai crossed her arms and legs defensively, and even Wyatt turned his chair around to straddle it. It was obvious neither one of them anticipated liking whatever the Commander might be about to say.
Rainey ran a hand through his grey-black hair and looked at the partners. “Before I start, I have one thing to say to you. Marque Callex.”
Jai gasped. “What?”
That changed everything. The infamous name had both her and Wyatt leaning forward in their chairs, now eagerly waiting for Rainey’s next words.
“You know how long we’ve been trying to get close to this guy. We may now have a chance, albeit by a very unconventional route.” Rainey nodded toward their guest. “A month ago, Mr. Carron here ran afoul of the law. And in an effort to save his neck – and his very lucrative business – he suggested a unique proposal in return for us not pursuing charges against him.”
“What kind of proposal?” Wyatt asked.
“A clever one, as it turns out.” Rainey smirked. “Mr. Carron agreed to send an… invitation… to Marque Callex, in the guise of offering ‘a select number of high-powered businessmen’ the chance to sample the latest model of Beautiful Doll for free, in exchange for their feedback on the product. In reality, Callex was the only person to get this invitation.”
Jai’s mouth set in a disgusted line. “And he accepted.”
“He did,” Rainey confirmed. “It was a gamble, but it paid off. In this supposed ‘latest model,’ clients are able to customize their girl. Callex filled out the form specifying the criteria of his ideal Beautiful Doll, and now all we have to do is fulfill his requirements.” The Commander gave Jai a pointed stare. “With you.”
Jai’s eyes went wide. “You want me to impersonate a sexbot?”
“He’s requested certain specifics,” Anson Carron spoke up. “Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Lean, athletic build.”
Jai let out a relieved breath. “Well, that rules me out. I’m brown-haired and brown-eyed.”
“Easily fixed,” her boss pointed out. “You fit the most important characteristic: athletic build. We can’t fake that, but we can correct the other things with hair dye and contact lenses.”
Jai leaned forward in her chair. “Sir, do you really believe a man who can have any model of girl he wants, would pick a B-cup and not a triple-D? For a sexbot? Come on, Commander. Are you sure Callex is even serious about this?”
Rainey stroked his chin thoughtfully, and then shrugged. “Well, we’ll have our answer on Monday if he shows up at the Beautiful Dolls boudoir. Until then, prepping you for the assignment is the way we’re going to proceed. That is, if you’re agreeable.”
Jai scowled. There was absolutely no way she was going to volunteer for this. Have sex on command? Not a chance. Not even to bring down a man they’d long been after for suspected weapons smuggling. Besides, she could never pass for a sexbot. She had a heartbeat, for goodness sake!
Rainey sighed into the stubborn silence. “Do I really need to play the Joran Breaux card with either of you?”
A spark of anger shot through Jai, even as she heard Wyatt shift uncomfortably on his chair. Joran was the second – and definitely much more personal – reason they were after Marque Callex. Joran had been sent in to infiltrate Callex Industries from the inside, to discover how one of the government’s top weapons contractors was secretly diverting arms to militant countries. Joran’s cover as an employee had seemed secure until two months ago, when the police force had lost contact with him on the very day he’d scheduled a meeting with Marque Callex. Three weeks later, Joran’s body had turned up – in pieces – in a recycling center a hundred clicks away.
Joran had been Wyatt’s partner before Jai.
Jai would relish the chance to avenge the death of a fellow Tau Cetus agent, but was becoming a sex slave really the best way to do it?
Rainey scowled. “You know how long we’ve been trying to get to Marque Callex. This may be our best chance. But if you’re not up to it, Turner, I’ll find another female agent with athletic build who’s more committed to her job.”
Crap. Now Rainey was doubting Jai’s dedication to the force. Silence stretched in the room while Jai considered her options. Her very limited options. As in, none.
“I’ll do it.”
“What?”
Jai’s mouth set into a mulish line. What real choice did she have? Marque Callex needed to be stopped.
“I said I’ll do it. If this is our best – and possibly only – chance to get to him, then I’m in.”
Programmed To Please is the first in a trilogy of Tau Cetus Chronicles. If it sounds like a fun read to you, here are some buy links:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Programmed-Ple...
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/progr...
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/prog...
KOBO: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebo...
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view...
I love to connect with readers and other authors! Hit me up one of these ways: website: http://www.jennaives.com/ ; email: jenna@jennaives.com; blog: http://fierceromance.blogspot.com/ ; Twitter @JennaIvesAuthor; or on Facebook or Goodreads!
Thanks so much to Laurel for hosting me today!
Jenna
Guest Blog: Lessons in Trust by Charlie Cochrane
Today I have guest author Charlie Cochrane with me, sharing Lessons in Trust, part of her Cambridge Fellows Series of Edwardian romantic mysteries. Welcome, Charlie!
__
I remember hearing somewhere that Andrew Lloyd Webber (that’s Lord Webber to you and me) never listens to other people’s music, as he doesn’t want to risk accidentally being influenced by it. Whether that’s true or not, it struck me as being very different from what many authors do. Countless of us are also voracious readers – I devour books across a whole range of genres, for both pleasure and research and I know I’m not alone. Yes, there’s always a risk we’ll inadvertently be over influenced by somebody else’s story and we have to guard against that, but the rewards we gain in return are immense, and not just in terms of the pleasure of the stories we encounter.
Those of us who write historicals, particularly if we write in a range of eras including contemporary, benefit from reading works written at those times, if we can find them. It shows us the cadence of language, the words which were and weren’t used, and gives a feeling for the customs of the era. I’ve always been a fan of a number of authors who worked either side of 1900, so it feels like second nature to “slip back into that time” when I’m writing my Cambridge Fellows series.
But there’s more than that. If you’re changing genres as an author – and many of us do just that – reading books of the type you want to write is vital. There are expectations that readers will hold about books; for example, a mystery must play fair with them, giving them enough clues to solve the problem alongside (or before!) the detective but not making the culprit obvious. In the same way category romance must have some sort of happy ending or risk the reader hurling the book at the wall! We can also learn from the craft of others – Mary Renault for economy of language, Patrick O’Brian for characterisation, Agatha Christie for page turning plotting. To read the works of others helps to hone our own skill.
So whether you’re an aspiring author, an established one, or somebody who just enjoys a good read, indulge yourself. There’s nothing like a good book.
Lessons in Trust
Buy links
http://store.samhainpublishing.com/le...
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00...
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B...
Blurb: When Jonty Stewart and Orlando Coppersmith witness the suspicious death of a young man at the White City exhibition in London, they’re keen to investigate—especially after the cause of death proves to be murder. But police Inspector Redknapp refuses to let them help, even after they stumble onto clues to the dead man’s identity.
Orlando’s own identity becomes the subject for speculation when, while mourning the death of his beloved grandmother, he learns that she kept secrets about her past. Desperate to discover the truth about his family, Orlando departs suddenly on a solo quest to track down his roots, leaving Jonty distraught.
While Jonty frantically tries to locate his lover, Orlando wonders if he’ll be able to find his real family before he goes mad. After uncovering more leads to the White City case, they must decide whether to risk further involvement. Because if either of them dares try to solve the murder, Inspector Redknapp could expose their illicit—and illegal—love affair.
Excerpt:
White City, London, 1908
“If you think I’m going up on that thing…” Orlando Coppersmith looked at the great metal creation. It seemed to reach up miles into the sky, higher than the Eiffel Tower or anything he’d ever seen. Even though the measurements, the beautifully accurate and logical measurements, meant it couldn’t be as high as he perceived it was, his eyes wouldn’t believe his brain.
“Why not?” Jonty Stewart’s eyes were ablaze with awe and wonder. “Everyone goes on the Flip Flap.”
“I’m not everyone.” Orlando knew all about his lover’s delight in bell towers, follies, any high places which gave panoramic views. “Anyway, you’ll be sick.” It was a feeble, inaccurate shot, inevitably missing its target.
“I’m never sick. Sorry.” A wide grin crossed Jonty’s handsome face, attracting the attention of two passing maidens. He raised his hat to them and carried on blithely, “I correct myself. I was once sick when some idiot took me on a helter-skelter two hours after a sporting dinner at St. Bride’s, but that was when I was a mere stripling.” No fellow of such an august Cambridge college was going to admit that he’d also been horribly ill just three years previously, after sledging with his nephew down a snow-covered hill. That was before he’d met Orlando and therefore both pre-historic and confidential.
“I’ll be sick.”
“Ah. Good point. I’ll never forget the ferry crossing to Jersey.” Jonty looked crestfallen, so disappointed at thwarted ambition that it knocked any argument out of Orlando’s mind.
“Oh, blow it. Let’s go on the thing then.” It was worth suffering just to see the delight on his friend’s face. “And if I’m sick I’ll do it in your hat.”
The Flip Flap. Everyone was talking about it, even the people who hadn’t yet been to the Franco-British exhibition at the great White City which was the talk of the country. There were songs about it in the music halls and Ella Retford wasn’t the only one singing “Take me on the Flip Flap”. Jonty and Orlando had heard a group of youths warbling it just the day before as they’d been wandering down Regent Street. Even Jonty’s father had been on the contraption, becoming so loquacious about his experience that Mrs. Stewart had been forced to have words. “I told your father, Jonathan,” she’d addressed her youngest son so loudly over the telephone that Orlando had been able to hear from the other side of the hall, “that if he doesn’t shut up, I’ll be filing for divorce and naming the Flip Flap as co-respondent.” Much to her dismay that conversation had made Jonty decide he and his lover had to visit the White City as soon as possible to see for themselves.
Orlando had been reluctant despite Mr. Stewart’s glowing reports. He’d seen Paris and been stunned by both the simpering Mona Lisa and the oddly masculine Venus de Milo. He’d strolled through Monte Carlo, as urbane a boulevardier as if he’d been born to the role, or at least a good imitation of one. Why should he want to see imitations of glory when he’d encountered the real thing? The unanswerable argument was that Jonty wanted to see these things and what Jonty wanted, he got. The dunderheads had gone home from the university, back to families who would be astounded by their brains even if Cambridge wasn’t, and the long vac stretched ahead, full of promise. And a visit to the White City could incorporate a visit to the Stewarts’ London home, which would brighten anyone’s summer.
Author links:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/charlie.coch...
Twitter: http://twitter.com/charliecochrane
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...
Blogs: http://charliecochrane.livejournal.com and https://charliecochrane.wordpress.com/
Website: http://www.charliecochrane.co.uk
__
I remember hearing somewhere that Andrew Lloyd Webber (that’s Lord Webber to you and me) never listens to other people’s music, as he doesn’t want to risk accidentally being influenced by it. Whether that’s true or not, it struck me as being very different from what many authors do. Countless of us are also voracious readers – I devour books across a whole range of genres, for both pleasure and research and I know I’m not alone. Yes, there’s always a risk we’ll inadvertently be over influenced by somebody else’s story and we have to guard against that, but the rewards we gain in return are immense, and not just in terms of the pleasure of the stories we encounter.
Those of us who write historicals, particularly if we write in a range of eras including contemporary, benefit from reading works written at those times, if we can find them. It shows us the cadence of language, the words which were and weren’t used, and gives a feeling for the customs of the era. I’ve always been a fan of a number of authors who worked either side of 1900, so it feels like second nature to “slip back into that time” when I’m writing my Cambridge Fellows series.
But there’s more than that. If you’re changing genres as an author – and many of us do just that – reading books of the type you want to write is vital. There are expectations that readers will hold about books; for example, a mystery must play fair with them, giving them enough clues to solve the problem alongside (or before!) the detective but not making the culprit obvious. In the same way category romance must have some sort of happy ending or risk the reader hurling the book at the wall! We can also learn from the craft of others – Mary Renault for economy of language, Patrick O’Brian for characterisation, Agatha Christie for page turning plotting. To read the works of others helps to hone our own skill.
So whether you’re an aspiring author, an established one, or somebody who just enjoys a good read, indulge yourself. There’s nothing like a good book.
Lessons in Trust
Buy links
http://store.samhainpublishing.com/le...
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00...
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B...
Blurb: When Jonty Stewart and Orlando Coppersmith witness the suspicious death of a young man at the White City exhibition in London, they’re keen to investigate—especially after the cause of death proves to be murder. But police Inspector Redknapp refuses to let them help, even after they stumble onto clues to the dead man’s identity.
Orlando’s own identity becomes the subject for speculation when, while mourning the death of his beloved grandmother, he learns that she kept secrets about her past. Desperate to discover the truth about his family, Orlando departs suddenly on a solo quest to track down his roots, leaving Jonty distraught.
While Jonty frantically tries to locate his lover, Orlando wonders if he’ll be able to find his real family before he goes mad. After uncovering more leads to the White City case, they must decide whether to risk further involvement. Because if either of them dares try to solve the murder, Inspector Redknapp could expose their illicit—and illegal—love affair.
Excerpt:
White City, London, 1908
“If you think I’m going up on that thing…” Orlando Coppersmith looked at the great metal creation. It seemed to reach up miles into the sky, higher than the Eiffel Tower or anything he’d ever seen. Even though the measurements, the beautifully accurate and logical measurements, meant it couldn’t be as high as he perceived it was, his eyes wouldn’t believe his brain.
“Why not?” Jonty Stewart’s eyes were ablaze with awe and wonder. “Everyone goes on the Flip Flap.”
“I’m not everyone.” Orlando knew all about his lover’s delight in bell towers, follies, any high places which gave panoramic views. “Anyway, you’ll be sick.” It was a feeble, inaccurate shot, inevitably missing its target.
“I’m never sick. Sorry.” A wide grin crossed Jonty’s handsome face, attracting the attention of two passing maidens. He raised his hat to them and carried on blithely, “I correct myself. I was once sick when some idiot took me on a helter-skelter two hours after a sporting dinner at St. Bride’s, but that was when I was a mere stripling.” No fellow of such an august Cambridge college was going to admit that he’d also been horribly ill just three years previously, after sledging with his nephew down a snow-covered hill. That was before he’d met Orlando and therefore both pre-historic and confidential.
“I’ll be sick.”
“Ah. Good point. I’ll never forget the ferry crossing to Jersey.” Jonty looked crestfallen, so disappointed at thwarted ambition that it knocked any argument out of Orlando’s mind.
“Oh, blow it. Let’s go on the thing then.” It was worth suffering just to see the delight on his friend’s face. “And if I’m sick I’ll do it in your hat.”
The Flip Flap. Everyone was talking about it, even the people who hadn’t yet been to the Franco-British exhibition at the great White City which was the talk of the country. There were songs about it in the music halls and Ella Retford wasn’t the only one singing “Take me on the Flip Flap”. Jonty and Orlando had heard a group of youths warbling it just the day before as they’d been wandering down Regent Street. Even Jonty’s father had been on the contraption, becoming so loquacious about his experience that Mrs. Stewart had been forced to have words. “I told your father, Jonathan,” she’d addressed her youngest son so loudly over the telephone that Orlando had been able to hear from the other side of the hall, “that if he doesn’t shut up, I’ll be filing for divorce and naming the Flip Flap as co-respondent.” Much to her dismay that conversation had made Jonty decide he and his lover had to visit the White City as soon as possible to see for themselves.
Orlando had been reluctant despite Mr. Stewart’s glowing reports. He’d seen Paris and been stunned by both the simpering Mona Lisa and the oddly masculine Venus de Milo. He’d strolled through Monte Carlo, as urbane a boulevardier as if he’d been born to the role, or at least a good imitation of one. Why should he want to see imitations of glory when he’d encountered the real thing? The unanswerable argument was that Jonty wanted to see these things and what Jonty wanted, he got. The dunderheads had gone home from the university, back to families who would be astounded by their brains even if Cambridge wasn’t, and the long vac stretched ahead, full of promise. And a visit to the White City could incorporate a visit to the Stewarts’ London home, which would brighten anyone’s summer.
Author links:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/charlie.coch...
Twitter: http://twitter.com/charliecochrane
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...
Blogs: http://charliecochrane.livejournal.com and https://charliecochrane.wordpress.com/
Website: http://www.charliecochrane.co.uk
Guest Blogging at Annette Mardis's
I'm guest blogging at author Annette Mardis's site about my paranormal romance In Her Element. Stop by to read an excerpt. http://www.annettemardis.com/blog/in-...
Guest Blogging with Rosanna Leo
Don't miss my guest blog at author Rosanna Leo's site about my paranormal romance novel In Her Element. Learn more about the writing of this book and read an excerpt. https://rosannaleoauthor.wordpress.co...
Guest Blog: A Good Man by Rosanna Leo
Today I'd like to welcome Rosanna Leo to my blog. Rosanna writes paranormal romance and contemporary romance. You may know her from her Selkies series or Gemini Island series. Although I don't read a lot of contemporary romance, I especially enjoyed A Good Man, the first book in her Handymen series. She really packed a lot of heart into this book, and I'm thrilled to see she was able to find a new publishing home for it. The book is slated to release on June 9, 2020 and is already available for Preorder. So be sure to check it out!
Amazon | Totally Bound Publishing | Barnes & Noble | Kobo
Blurb:
Contractor Michael Zorn is one of the leading men on the successful home improvement show Handymen. He is also revered for an act of bravery he’d rather forget. The press may hound him, but all he really wants is to help couples realize their home renovation dreams.
One of these couples is Emily Daniels and her fiancé, Trent. When Emily inherits an old home in Toronto’s Little Italy, she sees it as the perfect location for her small business. The house needs a lot of work, but her appearance on the Handymen show means Michael and his contractor brothers will help her renovate at a reasonable cost.
When Michael and Emily meet, their chemistry is intense. Emily wants to stay true to Trent, but her fiancé has done nothing but disappoint her. Michael recognizes Trent for what he is—a cheater. And it isn’t long before he breaks Emily’s heart.
At first, Michael only intends to comfort Emily, but their friendship soon flares into passion. Unfortunately, Michael has secrets and wounds of his own, ones he has never trusted to another. Emily is determined to break down his walls, but can she trust her heart to a man who can’t trust himself?
Excerpt:
Emily threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his torso, cutting off his words and his breath. Only when he hugged her back did he realize how hard she was quivering.
She wasn’t just crying about the old photos.
“It’s okay, Em. Let it out, sweetheart.”
The collar of his shirt grew wet but he didn’t care. Wardrobe had tons of shirts. Besides, she felt good in his arms, all soft and warm. He rubbed her shoulders and the back of her waist, exploring and familiarizing himself with her luscious body. He breathed, drinking in her scent. His nasal cavities had never known such bliss. It was like that first clear breath after a long period of congestion. His fingers were pretty happy too, enjoying the give of her body. It was all he could do not to slide them down, cup her sweet ass and pull her up against him.
Just not while she was crying over another man.
She lingered in his arms and he did nothing to push her away. In fact, it surprised him how badly he wanted to keep her there, so much so that when Emily finally extricated herself, he wanted to pull her back into his embrace. Instead, he wiped her cheeks clean of the remaining tears.
“The makeup ladies are going to kill me for making you cry.”
It might have been his imagination, but her tears made her eyes appear even greener. In fact, her entire face seemed a riot of tempting color. Each shade called to him. The crushed roses in her cheeks. Her strawberry lips, so plump and moist. Even the doeskin brown of her freckles fascinated him to no end. He wanted to count them, to kiss and mark them all.
Kissing her made a whole lot of sense right now. Kissing her senseless seemed even better.
Emily’s eyes widened. Her lips parted in invitation. Michael paused, knowing it was wrong, even though every raised hair on his arms told him it was right.
As he debated with himself for a split second, she brushed her lips against his. It was quick and soft, hunger masquerading as something platonic. Even though a spectator might have called it a friendly kiss, he knew the truth. As brief as it may have been, he felt her yield to him, even if just a little.
From the startled look in her eyes, Emily knew it too.
She took a step back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You’re right. I should have been the one to do it.” Michael licked his lips. “Your lips really do taste like strawberries.”
Buy Links: Amazon | Totally Bound Publishing | Barnes & Noble | Kobo
Author Links:
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bT91GX
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/rosan...
Reader Group (Rosanna Leo’s Pride): https://www.facebook.com/groups/Rosan...
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/rleoauthor1
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