Lisabet Sarai's Blog

September 23, 2017






Caris
is giving away a Red Wire-Wrapped PNR Bracelet (International Winner
Receives Gift Card) and a $25 Amazon Gift Card to randomly drawn
winners via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter
below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by
visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here.






The
“Wow” Prize!





Just
leave a comment for a chance to win!





Caris
Roane here and I'm so glad you're touring with me. As a bonus, I’m
giving away a Reader Care Package to one lucky winner just for
leaving a comment on any or all of the blogs on my tour. What’s
in the Reader Care Package: Truffles, Ghiradelli Chocolate, print
copy of GATES OF RAPTURE, scented lotion and soap, a journal and
other goodies! Be sure to visit as many blogs on my tour as you can.
The more blogs you comment on, the greater your chances of winning.
The Reader Care Package is US only, but an international winner will
receive a gift card. How I choose the winner: I will choose the
winning blog then choose the winning comment sometime after midnight,
October 5th, Arizona time. I will use Random dot org to make the
selection. Good luck!










About
the Books











BLOOD
FLAME
, Book #1 of the Flame Series:




Vampire
Officer Connor of the Crescent Border Patrol tries to suppress his
desire for the powerful witch, Iris Meldeere. Because the woman
possesses the ability to kill him with the tips of her fingers, how
can he possibly fall in love with her? When a double homicide throws
them together, he soon finds his deepest fantasies fulfilled as Iris
succumbs to his seductions. But as they battle together to stay
alive, and love begins to consume them both, will the witch be able
to forgive the dark secrets of his past …




Amazon
US
/ iBooks
//B&N
/ Kobo/
Google
Play
/ Amazon
CA
/ Amazon
UK
/ Amazon
AU











AMETHYST
FLAME
, Book #2 of the Flame Series




Hunky
Nathan Vaughn, six-six, and one muscled vampire warrior, has had a
lot of trouble in his life and needs a good woman to help even things
out. Vaughn and Emma met once in the past, the night they rescued
three teenage girls from a kidnapping ring. But a vampire and a witch
can’t have a relationship in Five Bridges. So, they parted,
determined never to see each other again. Emma was desolate, then the
phone rang. Vaughn called and kept calling and she kept answering.
But the rescue they shared turned out to piss off one very bad wizard
who decided they both needed to die. Now they’re in it, fighting to
stay alive and working oh-so-hard NOT to fall in love. Will they
survive when so much is against them?




Amazon
US
/ iBooks
/ B&N
/ Google
Play
/ Kobo
/ Amazon
CA
/ Amazon
UK
/ Amazon
AU





Books
in the Flame Series:




Book
1: Blood Flame

Book
2: Amethyst
Flame


Book
3: Dark Flame

Book
4: Amber Flame

Book
5: A
Touch of Flame


Holiday
Novella: Christmas
Flame








Excerpt
from AMETHYST FLAME






From
Chapter One – Caught in a dangerous situation, Vaughn tries to get
Emma to leave, but she has a job to do. Together, they’ve found
three dead teenage girls in the Graveyard of Five Bridges.


Over
the beers he and Emma had shared the night of the rescue, she’d
told him she was clean but that half the Elegance force wasn’t.
He’d confessed a similar statistic for his own vampire territory of
Crescent. That’s when things had shifted and he’d started seeing
her as a woman he admired as opposed to a witch who could kill him
with the energy she could release through the tips of her fingers.





Another
burst of laughter came on the heels of the arrival of yet another
Border Patrol vehicle. His survival instincts kicked in. “We should
leave, Em. Right now. I can fly us straight out of here. Someone else
can pick up your bike and my SUV later.”




He
held out his arm to her and gestured to his foot. He’d flown her
before, so she knew the drill. All she had to do was hop on and he’d
have them out of danger within seconds.




She
glanced at his boot but shook her head. “I can’t go. Not yet.”




“Why?
We both know this is a set-up, and isn’t it bad enough Loghry got
these girls? So, how about we get the hell out of here?”




“Vaughn,
you know what this is like for me. It’s the way my alter power
manifests. I have to tend to the girls. Their spirits are calling to
me.” She started down the side of the ditch.




Vaughn’s
heartrate kicked up a notch. “Emma, don’t do this. We’ve gotta
go now.”




“The
girls need me and it’s the least I can do after what they’ve been
through.”




Vaughn
didn’t try to argue with her and instead began his own descent. He
might not want her to stay, but like hell he was leaving her alone in
No Man’s Land.




Emma
Delacey, Tribunal Public Safety officer, understood Vaughn’s
concern. She felt it as well, that she was heading into a trap.




She’d
been the first to arrive at the triple homicide in the Graveyard, a
part of Five Bridges she’d only been to a handful of times.




Her
corrupt boss, Tribunal Chief Donaldson, had ordered her to head out
here or resign. She wasn’t a quitter, though the sweat on his
forehead had told her she was in trouble the minute he’d come into
her office. The three major cartels of Five Bridges owned one of
Donaldson’s testicles. The dark spellcasters of Elegance territory
held the other in a crushing grip. She wasn’t even sure she blamed
Donaldson anymore. If you were high up in the administration and
didn’t play ball, you got killed…







~~~



I
hope you found yourself caught up in this excerpt from Chapter One of
AMETHYST FLAME.





To
Read More and For Buy Links…








About
Caris







Caris
Roane is the NY Times Bestselling author of Paranormal Romance. She
began her career with Kensington Publishing and for eighteen years
wrote Regency Romance as Valerie King. In 2005, Romantic Times
Magazine honored her with a career achievement award for her Regency
Romance work. To-date, she has published eighty-nine books.
Thirty-nine of those are paranormal romances. Most of her paranormal
stories are self-published while several in the early days were
penned for St. Martin's Press.




Though
her stories conjure up hunky PNR warriors, like vampires and
wolf-shifters, the romance is everything, including a satisfying
Happily Ever After. Her hope is that the reader will come away
engrossed in the lives of her tortured heroes and her worthy women as
they wage war, as they make love, and as they face the tough issues
of life and relationships!





Caris
lives in the Phoenix area, in a growing town called Buckeye. When not
writing, she’s a real homebody. She loves gardening, sewing, and
cooking. She also enjoys creating jewelry and offers her handcrafted,
PNR bracelet giveaways to her newsletter and blog subscribers. Her
motto? Live the fang!




If
you want to know more about Caris, or want to get in touch, you can
find her at the following places:




WEBSITE
| BLOG | FACEBOOK
| TWITTER | PINTEREST




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Published on September 23, 2017 00:00

September 21, 2017






By
Cheyenne Blue (Guest Blogger)






Party
walls are a necessary part of a lot of modern modern living, and it
seems most people have a horror story to share about a neighbour from
the other side of the dividing wall. Paper-thin interior walls are a
bad match when your neighbour always seems to vacuum at 3.00am. Or
your morning aerobics wakes your neighbour too early. Barking dogs,
noisy sex, differing musical tastes, parties, and even the lark
versus night owl can all lead to stress.




I’ve
heard of great tales and long-friendships arising around the party
wall too. In Melbourne, years ago, I ended up with half a dog thanks
to the party wall. My neighbour had a Jack Russell terrier called
Feedback (his owner worked in radio). The old terrace houses we lived
in were rather decrepit, and when Feedback’s owner went off to his
late afternoon shift, Feedback would climb a rather convenient loquat
tree by jumping from branch to branch until he was level with the top
of the fence. He’d then take a flying leap into my back yard and
come trotting in through the open door for some late afternoon
company after I’d returned from my nursing shift. He was unable to
return to his side of the fence, but when he heard his owner come
home, he’d bark at the party wall so that his owner knew where he
was.




We
shared Feedback for a couple of years: mornings with his official
owner, afternoons with me. We ended up putting a doggie door in the
party wall to make it easier for him.





My
latest lesbian romance novel Party Wall is about two very
different women with two very different attitudes to life, who have
to live and work side-by-side separated by the flimsy wooden wall
between their premises. Lily’s dream has been to run a sex shop
and space where women can come and embrace the physical side of their
lives in a positive and caring way. But she soon runs up against her
neighbour, Freya, whose new-age store and yoga studio are the
antithesis of Lily’s shop.





Or
are they?




I
hope you’ll decide to give Party Wall a go.









Blurb




From
the moment Freya looks in the window of the brash, new sex shop in
Grasstree Flat she knows it will be nothing but trouble. For a start,
it will clash with her own New Age store right next door. And she’s
right. Outgoing newcomer, Lily, begins to intrude on Freya’s
well-ordered life. Freya’s friends, lifestyle, and even her cat are
all affected by Lily’s magic touch. Even Freya’s yoga classes rub
shoulders with Lily’s sexual-expression workshops. Lily stands for
everything Freya has lost in life: playfulness, spontaneity, and
delight in the physical. And sex. But does Lily have more in common
with Freya than the wall that divides them?




A
lesbian romance about crossing the lines that hold us back.




Excerpt




The sun reflected
off the window, obscuring the view of the shop inside. Still, Freya
was hyper aware of the products on display. She shuffled her feet and
coughed, but didn’t move towards the door. In the window, she
caught the reflection of Carly’s easy smile, as if she frequented
sex toy stores all the time. Freya moved to one side. Now the sun
slanted low, slicing through the glass. A mannequin wearing
red-and-black, skimpy, lace underwear caught her attention.




“Tasteless,”
she muttered.




Carly glanced
sideways at her. “I’ve seen worse in the chain stores in Mackay.
I think it’s sexy. I’d wear it—if I were ten years younger and
ten kilos lighter.”




Freya sniffed.
“There is so much inherently wrong with that statement. What you
wear shouldn’t be determined by an outside opinion of what looks
good. Your self-worth isn’t dependent on another’s approval—”




“Okay, okay.”
Carly’s interruption was tempered with a smile. “I didn’t mean
it quite like that.” She pointed to a discreet sign in the corner
of the window. “‘A woman’s pleasure is in her own hands.’
Clever.”




“Why don’t they
just show a purple dildo and be done with it.” Freya took a tiny
step towards the shop next door. Her shop.




Carly shrugged. “No
doubt there’s some law against it. When did you last see more than
lingerie and posters in a sex shop window?”




“I’m not in the
habit of looking.” Freya’s voice was riveted steel. “I’m
surprised you are.”




“I don’t
often.” Carly grabbed Freya’s hand and pulled her back towards
the window. “After all, we don’t get much chance living here, do
we? The last sex shop I saw was in Brisbane when Andy and I went down
for the rugby. But that wasn’t like this—it appeared to cater
mostly to men. This one seems different.”




In Freya’s
jaundiced opinion, that was like calling a spade a manual digging
implement. “It’s all the same. Catering to the baser instincts of
men. Objectifying women. Turning them into sex objects.”




Carly turned to
face her, and Freya caught the little wrinkle between her eyes. Good.
Maybe she was getting through to her friend. This shop was everything
she found repellent. Its silver-and-purple paintwork shone garishly
in the sun. The wide window showed only the paltry display and a
backdrop of black-and-silver cloth blocking the rest of the shop from
view. Probably a good thing. Who knew what was behind those folds and
artfully arranged drapes? The mannequin was on the left, and the sign
Carly had noticed was propped up on the other side. The middle was
empty, a blank canvas for… Freya shuddered. What would end up
there? She already knew she wouldn’t like it.




Her gaze moved
right, to her own shop window. A Woman’s Spirit. She narrowed her
eyes and saliva filled her mouth. Even the name of the next-door
shop, A Woman’s Pleasure, was offensive, being so similar to her
own. Her shop front was tasteful, painted the silver-green of gum
leaves. Nothing stopped a passer-by seeing inside; indeed, the wide
window drew the gaze inwards to the welcoming warmth of racks of
books and tarot cards, to the stands of bright clothes, the shelves
of crystals and pottery.




“It’s great
that there’s a tenant.” Carly rested her forehead on the glass
and shaded her eyes, trying to peer inside. “It’s been a couple
of months since Diane moved to the coast. It can’t have been good
for your business, having a vacant shop next door.”




Freya snorted.
“Better a vacant space than this. Diane’s organic produce shop
and mine complemented each other—we got a lot of cross trade. I
doubt there’ll be any now.”




“You might be
surprised.”




“Unlikely. But it
doesn’t matter. This shop won’t be here long. I’m surprised the
council approved the permit.” Freya’s gaze shifted to the window,
where the permit was taped to the glass. “Maybe I should check that
they actually did.”




Carly huffed a
breath. “I think you’ll be wasting your time. There’s no way
the owner could get away with it in a town as small as Grasstree
Flat.”




Freya shrugged.
“Maybe that’s what they’re relying on.”




“Honestly,
Freya? Drop it. I’m sure it’s fine. Try and give the owner the
benefit of the doubt. They’re new in town, it’s a new business.
Surely it’s better for you and your shop if they make a success of
it.” Amused exasperation tinged Carly’s voice.




In front of the two
women, the black-and-silver backdrop twitched, saving Freya from
answering. A hand appeared through the gap and placed down some
stands, the sort that might support signage or photographs. The hand
was tawny, with short, manicured nails. Two silver rings glinted on
the fingers.




Carly nudged Freya.
“See? A woman owns it.”




“I gathered that
already.” Freya pointed to the sign that was already nagging in her
head, an irritant not to be forgotten, like a mozzie bite on a hot
summer day. “I doubt a man would run a store called ‘A Woman’s
Pleasure’.”




“Not
necessarily.”




The hand adjusted
the position of the stands. A forearm extended through the curtain,
then withdrew.





“I’m going to
ring the council.”




“And say what?”
Carly said in a neutral tone. “That you think the new owner is
breaking some law you’re not aware of? The window is tasteful,
Frey. I quite like it.”




“It’s only
remotely all right now because it’s mostly empty. You wait, that
mannequin will only be the start.” Her fingers twitched with the
urge to rant some more, but she controlled it. Deep breaths. A slow
inhale, hold that breath, and then let the tension of the moment
expel in the whoosh of air through her mouth. She would not let this
shop get to her.




On Freya’s third
exhale, the curtain dividing the window from the rest of the shop was
pulled to one side. The owner of the hand came into view. The
lighting behind her was dim, only enough to show a smooth-skinned
arm, a full shoulder, and the curve of neck and breast. The woman
wore a yellow singlet, and a bird’s wing of smooth dark hair hung
down, obscuring her face. In the dimly lit shop, she was bronze and
sunshine, her top standing out brightly against her dark skin, a
beacon in the shadows.




The woman placed a
handful of lingerie in the window. She piled it in a bunch, with no
attempt at display. A froth of lace and bright colours mixed with the
darker sheen of satin or silk, something smooth and luxurious. She
reached behind her and brought out another sign, which she propped on
the stand she’d placed earlier: Sensuous Reading for Women.




“Dirty books.
Porn.” Freya grasped Carly’s arm as a prelude to urging her away,
into the safety of her shop.




The woman in the
window straightened and saw them looking. She smiled hugely, her grin
spontaneous and infectious under high cheekbones. Carly grinned in
response, and Freya’s own lips twitched before she schooled her
features back to disapproval. The woman gestured to them with a smile
that obviously meant “come inside”.




Available
from these places:




Ylva
Publishing
https://www.ylva-publishing.com/product/party-wall-cheyenne-blue/



And
from October 4 on the Amazons:




Amazon.com,
Amazon.co.uk, Amazon.de, Amazon.com.au Amazon.ca





Cheyenne
Blue
is
the author of four romantic lesbian novels with the fifth due out in
June 2018. Her most recent release,
Party
Wall

is now available from
Ylva
Publishing

along with her Girl Meets Girl” series of interconnected novels.





She
is the editor of
Forbidden
Fruit: stories of unwise lesbian desire
and
First:
Sensual Lesbian Stories of New Beginning
.
Her short lesbian erotica is collected in three volumes of
Blue
Woman Stories.

She lives in a small house with an enormous deck in a rural area of
Queensland, Australia. Check her out at
www.cheyenneblue.com
on Facebook
or Twitter.





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Published on September 21, 2017 00:00 • 2 views

September 20, 2017

Challenge to Him cover






Happy
Wednesday! It’s time for another Book Hooks blog hop. My snippet
today comes from my historical romance novella Challenge to
Him
. Hope you enjoy it! After you’re done, do use the links
below to visit some of the other authors sharing their work today!




Blurb




All
the wealth in the world can’t buy willing surrender.





Andrew
MacIntyre, heir to a vast empire of railroads, mines and mills, is
the second or third richest man in America, and by far the most
eligible bachelor among the society folk summering in Newport, Rhode
Island. His mother has filled their opulent mansion with marriageable
daughters of bankers and industrialists, but Andrew knows none of
these callow young women can satisfy his perverse sexual needs. No
respectable girl would ever consent to being bound and beaten, to
serving and obeying him the way he craves. His money gives him the
freedom to purchase anything except his heart’s desire—a
submissive partner to share his life.




Independent,
progressive and well-educated, labour activist Olivia Alcott has
dedicated herself to improving the lot of the workers who toil in the
factories that have made Andrew and his class so wealthy. The strike
she organises triggers a confrontation between her and the handsome
billionaire. Although their disparate backgrounds and values make
them natural foes, something stronger draws them to one another—an
intuitive recognition of complementary fantasies. Andrew offers
Olivia a bargain—better working conditions for the mill staff, in
return for a weekend of her unquestioning obedience. Olivia will help
him deflect the attentions of the potential mates assembled by his
mother, as well as providing more intimate services. Given Olivia’s
origins, a more enduring relationship appears impossible—but Andrew
is not the sort to give up something he wants.












The
Hook





“Mademoiselle
Olivia!” A skinny girl raced up the street that led to the
riverside mill, stirring clouds of dust. “Il vient!
He is coming!”




The
sputtering
racket
of
an
internal
combustion
engine
drowned
out
the
girl’s
excited
voice.
The
crowd
parted
like
the
Red
Sea
for
a
boxy
vehicle
of
shiny
black,
with
silvery
headlamps
like
extruded
eyes.
The
noisy
Studebaker
rolled
to
a
stop
in
front
of
the
strikers,
who
stopped
in
their
tracks
like
everyone
else
to
stare
at
it.






The
door creaked open. A tall man unfolded himself from the somewhat
cramped interior, snatched off his hat and goggles and tossed them
into the vehicle. He strode towards the massed strikers, his fists
clenched at his sides.




“Where
is she? Where’s your damned leader?”





The
newspapers generally described Andrew MacIntyre as handsome. The
epithet did not do him justice. As he stormed towards her, Olivia was
struck with a sense of physical power and keen intelligence. He had
wavy red-gold hair, a high forehead, a square chin, a determined
mouth. His eyes were hazel, deep set under brows darker than his
hair. Those eyes drilled into her, fierce and compelling. The women
around her shrank backwards in alarm. Olivia steeled herself, holding
her ground and fighting the urge to grovel at his feet. Instead of
retreating, she took a step forward, holding out her hand.





“Mr
Andrew MacIntyre, I presume?” She marveled at the steadiness of her
voice, the cool neutral tone.





“Damned
right. And you are…?”




“Olivia
Alcott.” She pulled herself up to her full height and forced
herself to meet his gaze. She saw anger simmering there, but behind
his irritation there was something else, something that intrigued and
thrilled her. Something that she might be able to use to further her
goals. Olivia Alcott recognised lust when she saw it.




He
towered over her by at least a head. Though his body was hidden by
his loose touring coat, his decisive, economical movements suggested
he was lean and athletic. For a moment he hesitated, staring at her
proffered hand. When he finally accepted it, his firm grip confirmed
her impression of strength. His palm felt warm and dry against hers.
She suddenly wished that she were not so sticky and disheveled. When
he released her, a momentary lightness swept through her, as though
she might float away.




“And
can I assume that you are the instigator and cause of this illegal
strike, Miss Alcott?” He seemed flustered, less confident than she
would have expected. Her spirits rose.




“Instigator?
Perhaps. But not the cause.”




Buy
Links





Totally
Bound:

https://www.totallybound.com/index.php?route=product/product&product_id=2298




Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/Challenge-Him-Lisabet-Sarai-ebook/dp/B00F633SEQ




BN:



https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/challenge-to-him-lisabet-sarai/1116872228?ean=9781781844458




Add
on Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18365569-challenge-to-him









Visit the other authors doing MFRW Book Hooks this week!


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Published on September 20, 2017 00:00 • 5 views

September 19, 2017

Golden Shana cover



Golden Shana: The Chase by
A P von K’Ory




AuthorMeProfessionals
Press, 2015





With his impeccable style,
muscular physique, chiseled features and hypnotic blue eyes, Roman
Alastair Northcott Broughton Castell is drop-dead gorgeous. He’s
also the billionaire CEO of a worldwide logistics company, built from
the ground up through his intelligence and hard work. With charm,
guile, expensive gifts and judiciously bestowed carnal pleasure,
Roman believes he can conquer any woman, but he’s determined not to
commit to anyone. When a female takes his fancy, he pursues her
relentlessly. Once she’s fallen into his net, he requires her to
sign a contract acknowledging the no-strings nature of their
relationship. According to his standard agreement, either one can
terminate the connection at any time. Somehow it’s always Roman who
grows bored and seeks out a new diversion.




Then one night at the La
Scala opera house in Milan, everything changes. As Roman escorts his
lovely, curvaceous current lady Marie to a performance of “Turandot”,
he catches sight of a honey-haired goddess of a woman who strikes him
dumb with desire and need. His charm deserts him; he’s hopelessly
befuddled by the stranger’s elegant poise. As she drives away in
her limo with her friends, however, he vows he will win her, no
matter what the price.




You probably think you
know this story, yet another installment in the endless series of
billionaire romances that litter the pages of Amazon. If that’s
what’s going through your mind, though, you’re wrong. Aside from
its classic, overwhelmingly alpha hero, Golden Shana: The Chase
is refreshingly original. The relationships are far more tangled than
in the typical romance, and the story much less predictable.





Shana, the mysterious
stranger, might well be more alpha than Roman. Raped by her boyfriend
when she was a teen, she has no interest in sexual relations with
men, though she acts the dominant role in her lesbian love affair
with close childhood friend Alyssa. She puts Roman in his place,
making it clear that she will not necessarily surrender to him just
because that is what he demands.





Discarded by Roman as he
sets off to pursue Shana, Marie serenely believes that her love for
him, plus his baby which she’s carrying, will ultimately bring him
back to her.





Meanwhile, the rapist,
despite being tortured and left for dead by Shana’s family, has
somehow survived. Having constructed a new identity, the Phoenix (as
he calls himself) is obsessed with reclaiming His Girl.





The book is set in Europe
– Hamburg, Geneva, Montreux, Milan – and the author obviously
knows these places well. All the characters are wealthy, so they
spend their time in elegant restaurants, exclusive spas, glittering
shops and upscale malls, in galleries and at the opera. Nevertheless,
this glamorous world struck me as far more believable than the
settings in most books in the billionaire genre. For one thing, the
rich characters actually work for a living, to maintain and enhance
their status. For another, there are gradations of wealth. Roman’s
security major domo Robert is rich in his own right, though far less
well off than Roman. Meanwhile the resources of Shana’s extended
family dwarf Roman’s own, and he feels correspondingly chastened.





As alpha as he is, Roman
is no cardboard cutout Dom. He’s self-centered, but generous and
mostly honest. He doesn’t promise what he can’t or won’t give.
He deeply loves his mother, detests his half-siblings, respects the
competent minions with whom he has surrounded himself. He can be
cruel, but that’s not his fundamental nature. He is, despite his
usual self-confidence, only twenty nine, and sometimes he acts his
age.




Unlike most romance, this
book really focuses on the male protagonist, not the female. The book
might, somewhat facetiously, be titled “The Dom’s Come-uppance”.
The author convincingly portrays Roman’s confusion and attempts to
adapt when the sudden cataclysm of love at first sight shatters his
world and calls all his assumptions into question.




From one chapter to the
next, the novel adopts the point of view of various characters, but
only Roman’s chapters are presented in the first person. As he
struggles to understand and accept his love for Shana, and plots what
to do about it, one almost feels sympathy.




Almost. I know every
author loves her own characters, but I couldn’t bring myself to
really like Roman. He’s just too arrogant and selfish for me. In
particular, I fumed at the way he treats Marie after she reveals that
she’s pregnant. If I were she, I would have thrown his contracts in
his face and gotten a restraining order. I couldn’t believe she’d
accede to his demeaning demands.





Likewise, I found Alyssa’s
infatuation with the billionaire inexplicable, given the way he
manipulates and uses her.





But that’s not a
criticism of the novel itself. Despite my frustration with Roman, I
continued to read, eager to discover what would happen next. The book
has a hopeful ending (from Roman’s perspective) but is by no means
HEA. Meanwhile, threats lie in wait (particularly in the person of
the Phoenix), threats that Roman will clearly have to confront.




Golden Shana: The Chase
is competently written, but it bears the hallmarks of a relatively
inexperienced author – an excess of passion, with occasional lapses
of craft. It seems that unlike me, A P von K’Ory really does love
Roman.





The structure is uneven,
with characters disappearing for many chapters, then suddenly popping
up again. The first half of the book includes some intensely arousing
sex scenes. I realized to my surprise that the second half of the
book contains almost no sex at all. I say surprised because I didn’t
miss it. I was too involved in the story.





Given my fascination with
BDSM relationships, that’s a compliment.




In fact, I’m tempted to
get a copy of the second half of the story (Golden Shana: The
Capture
), just to see how things play out.



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Published on September 19, 2017 00:00 • 1 view

September 18, 2017

Freeing the Beast cover



Available
for preorder now! Releases October 17.









Preorder:
https://www.totallybound.com/index.php?route=product/product&product_id=66905

















Blurb




Book
one in the Taming the Beast series





No more Mr. Nice
Guy.





For Becca Salt
being a witch isn’t all magic. Too curvy and lonely, she spends her
nights running a makeover service for demons, vamps, weres and
zombies who want to project a more human, normal side. Their goal? To
get the babes without the authorities hunting them down like rabid
dogs. Once Becca suppresses the worst of their beast, they’re on
the hunt and gone.




Dating has been a
definite bitch for Eric Diletto. Although he’s hot and hung, he’s
also one of Cupid’s descendants—a god born to believe in
courtship, courtesy and all that other junk. Tired of women dumping
him for the bad boys, Eric hires Becca to release his inner beast.
Grrrr.




Two potions later,
they’re crawling all over each other. With Eric’s newfound
dominance, he’s definitely the man. And the god, who intends to
take Becca here, there and everywhere. Who said sorcery and love
wasn’t fun?




Warning—A
witchdoctor’s nightmare. Contains potions with weird side effects,
a sorceress with limited magical skills and a yearning heart, plus a
minor god who wants to get down and dirty. Bad, bad boy.










Excerpt




She fingered her
top. “What are you?” He wasn’t a demon or a vamp. However, a
were or other shifter wasn’t implausible. “Exactly what?”




“I’m Eric.
Di-let-to.”




He’d pronounced
his last name ultra slow, as though that should mean something to
her.




It wasn’t ringing
a bell. “Okay.”




“No, it’s not.
I haven’t always gone by Eric. I changed my first name when I was
twelve. Got tired of having to fight the other kids, you know?”




Becca did. She’d
had her own scuffles when anyone had dared call her fat. Compassion
and tenderness for him mingled with her building lust. “Tell me
your real first name. Please.”




He sagged to the
sofa. “You’ll laugh.”




“Never.” She
hurried around her desk.




He leaned away from
her.




Becca stopped. No
way did she want him to feel more unglued than he already was or to
make a fool of herself by being too forward. “I don’t make fun. I
don’t bully. I had enough of that when I was a child to know how
much it hurts.”




He nodded
sympathetically. “The other kids made fun of your hair, huh?”




“No.” She
curled her upper lip. “There’s something wrong with my hair?”

He held up his
hands in appeasement. “Not at all. I really like the color and the
way you wear it.” He gestured to his own head to demonstrate her
bob and bangs. “It’s great.”




Sure,
and Santa Claus is a card-carrying Communist
.
“The other kids made fun of my weight.” There, she’d said it.
Little need to pretend there wasn’t a four-ton elephant in the
room.




“Really?” He
took her in, loitering on her ample cleavage and curvy hips. “I
don’t see how. You’re perfect. Most women today are too skinny.”




Honesty shone on
his face.




Becca liked that
and what he’d said. “What’s your real first name?”




He lay on the sofa,
arm draped over his eyes. He looked like a patient unwilling to
confess his innermost thoughts to a shrink.




“Come on.” She
used her gentlest tone. “We can’t help you if you don’t tell us
what the problem is. It can’t be that bad.”




“Wanna bet? My
real first name is Eros.”




About
Tina







Tina
is an Amazon and international bestselling novelist in erotic,
paranormal, contemporary and historical romance for traditional
publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic
Times
and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three
of her
erotic
novels
were
Readers'
Choice
Award
winners.
Another
three were
named
finalists
in the
EPIC
competition.
One of
her erotic
contemporary
romances
was chosen
Book of
the Year
at the
French
review site
Blue Moon
reviews.
The Golden
Nib Award
at Miz
Love Loves
Books was
created
specifically
for one
of her
erotic
romances.
Two of
her titles
received an
Award of
Merit in
the RWA
Holt
Medallion
competition. Another two
won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina is
featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before
penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company
in Story Direction.




FB
Fanpage:  https://www.facebook.com/DonahueTina1/

Email:  tinadonahuebooks@gmail.com

Website/Blog:  http://tinadonahuebooks.blogspot.com/

Bookbub:
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/tina-donahue



Goodreads:  http://bit.ly/1wFmIu6

Twitter:  http://bit.ly/1ziy4IU

Facebook:  http://on.fb.me/1Dl8DHy

Triberr:  http://bit.ly/1CE2ec7

Pinterest:  http://bit.ly/1yFLeMx

Amazon
author
page:  http://amzn.to/1ChWFkO

My
page
at
TRR:  http://bit.ly/1vb7eEc

Kensington
Author
Page:
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/24772



Sweet
n
Sexy
Divas:  http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

Romance
Books
4
US:  http://bit.ly/1JPtfeS

Naughty
Literati:
http://naughtyliterati.com/naughtyauthors/tina-donahue/



Dirty
Birdies:
http://dirtybirdiesauthors.com/about/













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Published on September 18, 2017 00:00 • 1 view

September 17, 2017




Sizzling Sunday banner




Ready
to sizzle? It’s Sunday again, so I’ve searched out another
X-rated excerpt for your reading pleasure. If you’re not
comfortable with explicit fiction – maybe you should visit someone
else’s blog!




Today’s
sizzling excerpt is from my BDSM ménage novel, The
Ingredients of Bliss
.






One
sexy French chef. One kinky American TV producer. One ambitious
Chinese gal who thinks she wants them both. The ingredients of bliss?
Or a recipe for disaster?












“Oh!
That tickles!”
I jerked
as Harry
brushed the
feather duster
over my
bare buttocks.
He had
arranged me
in one
of his
favorite
positions, on
my belly
with my
hips elevated
by a
pillow. Tonight
he’d
also spread
my legs
and tied
my ankles
to the
corners of
the bed—for
greater
accessibility,
he’d
asserted with
a cheeky
grin—though
he’d
left my
arms unbound.




“Oh,
please—oh,
no!” His
fluffy instrument
of torture
whispered its
way along
my rear
crevice then
fluttered against
the sensitive
skin of
my inner
thigh.





“Harry…oh…oh…no…ah…”






I
writhed, trying
without success
to escape
the maddening
brush of
the feathers.
My frantic
struggles ground
my pubis
against the
supporting
cushion, further
stimulating my
already aching
clit. If
only he’d
stop teasing!
I was
desperate to
feel him
inside me
again.




“Be
still, slut!” He landed a solid slap on my bum. The sting provided
a brief, welcome relief from the unbearable tickling. “Or would you
prefer the strap?”





“I
think I would, to be honest.”




“Well,
to be
honest, I
enjoy seeing
you squirm.
You look
delicious.” He
traced the
feathers up
my spine.






I
couldn’t
help myself.
I reached
behind me
to snatch
the irritating
duster away
from him
and toss
it to
the floor.
“Oh, Emily,
you’ll
pay for
that! What
a naughty
sub you
are!”




Instead
of punishing
me, though,
he straddled
me and
trailed a
line of
tantalizing, wet
kisses up
my back.
Settling his
familiar weight
on top
of me,
he nuzzled
the spot
between my
shoulder blades.
Lovely heat
shimmered through
me. His
cock wedged
itself into
the crevice
between my
rear cheeks.
Constrained both
by my
bonds and
his body,
I shifted
awkwardly on
the pillow.
I had
to get
that lovely
bulk lined
up with
the entrance
to my
pussy.





“Oh
no you
don’t…!”
Harry reacted
by scooting
up higher,
so that
his cockhead
pressed into
the curve
just above
my butt.
“Who’s
in control
here?” He
nipped my
shoulder.




“Ow!
You—but…”




“Who
decides when you get fucked?” Was he really annoyed? I couldn’t
tell.




“Ah—you
do, Harry.”
I tried
to relax
and lie
still, as
he’d
commanded. He’d
give me
satisfaction,
sooner or
later. He
always did.




“Maybe
I should
just make
you wait…”
His actions
didn’t
match his
scolding tone
in the
least, though.
Raising his
hips and
reaching between
his legs,
he adjusted
his cock
until the
head bumped
against my
raging clit.






“God,
Harry… Please…”




With
one smooth
stroke, he
slid into
my soaked
cleft. “On
the other
hand, why
should I
put off
my own
pleasure, just
to punish
you?”





*
* *




Buy
Links (available in ebook and print, too!)





Totally
Bound (with special bonus chapter!):

https://www.totallybound.com/book/the-ingredients-of-bliss




Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/Ingredients-Bliss-Whats-Her-Secret-ebook/dp/B00S16WI0K/




BN:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-ingredients-of-bliss-lisabet-sarai/1120338111?ean=9781784301965




Add
on Goodreads!

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22757197-the-ingredients-of-bliss





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Published on September 17, 2017 00:00 • 1 view

September 16, 2017

Breathe



It's
the first word of my very first novel. "Breathe..." In
this case, I was using the term literally. My heroine arrives in
Bangkok and is immediately assaulted with the foreign smell of the
place. I still remember my own debarkation, back in the eighties,
before jet ways. Clambering down the metal stairs onto the tarmac,
after midnight, I nearly swooned at the combination of diesel fuel,
moist earth, night-blooming jasmine, and fried garlic.






If
you write erotica, breathing is more than an autonomic process
responsible for oxygenating the blood. Arousal reveals itself in our
breathing. We pant, gasp, gulp air, hold it as we wait in
anticipation or delicious terror for the next touch, the next stroke
of the crop. I did a search for "breath" in the random
subset of my stories I happen to have on my disk in text format.
Here's a small sampling of what I found.





The
song changed to something more upbeat. She shook her hips, did the
same bumps and grinds as the other dancers, but the effect was
totally different. She was listening to some inner voice. Every now
and again her eyes would meet mine, and that luscious smile would
light her face. I found myself holding my breath, willing her to turn
again in my direction.
~
Butterfly




~~~




His
beard was softer than it looked, tickling her. For a moment he simply
held her, breathing in, inhaling her as if she were another drug.
Suddenly there was shocking wetness. His tongue circled her navel,
dipped inside. Her sex clenched in a sudden, delicious spasm.
~
Chemistry




~~~




All
at once I wanted him. I grabbed him and fastened my mouth on his,
grinding my pelvis against his hardness. He opened to me, held me
tight as if he was afraid I would evaporate. “Where can we go?” I
panted when we broke for breath.
~
Citadel of Women




~~~




Alan
relaxes in his chair, enjoying Beryl's confusion. He's been in the
film business long enough to recognize an act. Her flushed cheeks and
quickened breath speak more clearly than her deliberately chosen
words. She still wants me, he thinks with a hint of smugness, after
all this time.
~ Old Flame




~~~




I
bask in his gaze, proud and humble simultaneously. "You know
what happens when you tease me. I'm sure that you remember the other
night." Of course I do, and the memory leaves me wet and
breathless: the binding, the beating, the final delicious buggering.
My sex overflows. My thighs are slippery with my juices. I imagine he
can hear the liquid squelch as I walk. His arm is around my shoulder
now, guiding me along.
~
Wednesday Night at Rocky's Ace Hardware




~~~




"Much
better." She flicks a lock away from my breast, almost but not
quite touching me. "But I certainly don't want to hide those
adorable tits." Seating herself on the chaise, she beckons me
to her. My nipples are just at the level of her lips. She warms one
with her breath, and it tightens visibly. I want to scream, to beg
her to touch me. She's running this show, though. We both know that.
~ Velvet







I
could go on, but I'm sure that I've made my point. The way our
characters breathe tells our readers what they're feeling, as much as
their facial expressions or vocalizations, their wetness or hardness.
And in an erotic encounter, lovers use their breath as an extension
of their bodies.




Breathing
is more than just a tool for delineating emotion, though. Breath is
also a powerful metaphor for life itself. Some versions of Genesis
say that God animated the clay body of Adam by breathing upon it.
"I'll never give in, while there's breath in my body," our
dauntless heroes claim.





Breath
is also used to refer to the spark of creative passion. The word
"inspiration" derives from from the Latin inspiratus,
past participle of inspirare
"inspire, inflame, blow into," from in-"in"
+ spirare "to
breathe". The connection to the term "spirit" is
obvious. In fact the original meaning of inspiration was "under
the immediate influence of a God or god".





"Inflame".
How appropriate a term for a writer of erotica!




When
inspiration strikes - when the words are flowing unhindered, the
scenes in my imagination painting themselves effortlessly on the page
- I do indeed have the sense that I've been touched by something
divine. I feel it in my chest, a kind of buoyancy, as though I'd
filled my lungs with helium. My poor body seems too limited a vessel
to encompass the joy.





I
wrote a poem many years ago about inspiration, called "metapoem":

 
it comes as the wind comes
and you can't change it.
you can only be patient
and open
and humble.
in glimmers,
in floods,
it comes.
you have to be
reverent -
silent -
or else
go out and get drunk,
forget it
to find it.






Inspiration,
the author's Holy Grail. It's mysterious and yet simple. As simple as
breathing.


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Published on September 16, 2017 02:16 • 1 view

September 15, 2017

P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }A:link { }






Dark Genius cover


Blurb




To
the insatiably curious—science is the greatest adventure. So, when
scientists at CERN announced the discovery of the ‘God’ particle
in 2012, all the world wondered, “How did they find it?”




A
decade later, despite his past academic failures and egregious family
circumstance, Andrew Lawrence embarked on a journey of discovery,
competing against rival scientists to be the first to solve the
greatest unsolved mystery of the universe—dark matter—and win the
ultimate prize; the Nobel.





Emma
Franklin, a PhD candidate at Harvard, developed software for
detecting particle reactions using a quantum computer. To the
amazement and excitement of the scientific community, her work
revealed two possible bumps in the energy curve that were not
predicted by any established theory.




At
MIT, Lawrence created a model that predicted the scattering processes
of a dark matter supersymmetry particle. Though his early work was
disparaged, he improved his theory and found that it predicted the
data Emma had discovered. Their professional collaboration deepened
into a personal relationship, but when critical data was stolen, Emma
found evidence that incriminated Lawrence. Though she withheld the
impeaching material from the authorities, she felt she could no
longer trust him.




Despite
their troubled partnership, and notwithstanding the complexities of
nature, Lawrence and Emma persevered against the egos, jealousy, and
envy of rivals, on their exhilarating quest to find the ‘Holy
Grail’ of physics




Excerpt




I
thought all was lost—now I have a second chance.




With
a profound sense of relief, Andrew Lawrence slide his tablet into his
shoulder holster and walked briskly along the Boston sidewalk. His
past academic failures and egregious family circumstances were behind
him. He was ready for a fresh start.




Tall,
slender, and dark-haired, he listened to the clicking and clacking of
shuffling shoes on the pavement as students jostled alongside him.
The hint of autumn from the cool morning air brought a frenzy of
activity to the sprawling campuses of both MIT and Harvard which
nurtured a flourishing rivalry among their ambitious students. He
could feel the undercurrent of tension for the start of the fall
term.





By
the time he crossed Longfellow Bridge, his adrenaline was pumping. He
noticed several eight-man sculls already rowing down the Charles
River, their school colors plainly visible. Squinting his eyes
against the glare, he could make out the MIT and Harvard boats vying
for the lead, stroke by stroke.





Striding
across the rambling campus, his lips concealed a secret smile as he
contemplated a revolutionary solution to a problem he had been
daydreaming about. When he swung around a corner, he ran smack-dab
into a young woman. Her armload of books, papers, and assorted
technology flew into the air and scattered across the walkway.





“Sor
. . . sorry.”





“You
should be,” the woman said, her face screwed into a tight scowl.
“Your head was in the clouds.”




Lawrence
opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she pointed down and
said, “See what you’ve done?”





She
stooped and frantically tried to corral her absconding belongings.





“Let
me help,” said Lawrence, grasping some loose papers about to blow
away.




Spying
her tablet on the grass, she exclaimed, “Oh no! All my work.”





Carefully,
she picked up the device and turned it on, tapping her fingers
impatiently until the screen lit up. She heaved a sigh and looked
Lawrence directly in the eyes. “You’re lucky. Sooo . . . lucky.”




Lawrence
mumbled another apology and helped her pick up the last few books.





As
she struggled to reorganize her treasures, Lawrence brushed a strand
of hair away from his eyes and for the first time cast an appraising
glance at the young woman.





She
was attractive.





It
wasn’t that she was a striking beauty—though her smooth white
skin, olive green eyes, and classic profile complemented the hazelnut
hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Nor was her carriage
especially eye-catching, though she displayed an appealing youthful
vitality. No, what seemed most appealing was her confident determined
poise, as if she possessed a special hidden talent.




“You
really should use a backpack.”




“The
lining ripped,” she retorted.




Seeing
the logos on her tablet’s screen, Lawrence asked, “Harvard?
Math?”




“I
can tell by your tone that you’re MIT,” she said, her eyes
flashing.




Lawrence
grinned, “Physics.” As an afterthought, he asked, “What are you
doing on this campus?”




“Well,
Mr. Physics, that’s none of your concern.”





Something
in the way she said it, caused him to laugh.




They
faced each other in a stand-off for a long moment—saying nothing.




Then
the young woman heaved a sigh, gathered her possessions to her chest,
and brushed past him.





Lawrence
watched her figure disappear into the crowd.





Damn.
I didn’t get her name.




As
he turned to leave, something shiny on the ground caught his eye. It
was a flash drive.



Picking
it up, he spun around and called, “Wait!”





But
she was gone.





He
looked at the memory stick, thinking . . .




I’ll
have to crack her password, if I’m going to see her again.







Get your copy today! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B075HVG2Z9




About
the Author





As
a scientist and author specializing in technology innovation, H.
Peter Alesso has over twenty years research experience at Lawrence
Livermore National Laboratory (LLNL). As Engineering Group Leader at
LLNL he led a team of scientists and engineers in innovative
applications across a wide range of supercomputers, workstations, and
networks. He graduated from the United States Naval Academy with a
B.S. and served in the U.S. Navy on nuclear submarines before
completing an M.S. and an advanced Engineering Degree at M.I.T. He
has published several software titles and numerous scientific journal
and conference articles, and he is the author/co-author of ten books.












Email:
h.alesso [at] comcast [dot] net




Website: 

http://www.hpeteralesso.com/Default.aspx

Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/413852.H_Peter_Alesso

Twitter:

https://twitter.com/hpeteralesso

Amazon Author Page:

https://www.amazon.com/H.-Peter-Alesso/e/B001HCY45M










The
author will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn
winner via rafflecopter during the tour.











a Rafflecopter giveaway














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Published on September 15, 2017 00:00 • 1 view

September 14, 2017

P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }A:link { }





The Garage Dweller cover

By
Seelie Kay (Guest Blogger)





About
three years ago, I found a teenager living in my garage.






At
the time, I was recovering from a leg injury, so I hadn’t been
using my car and it was kept in the garage. My son was my official
chauffeur and he had his own car, which was parked on the driveway. I
had no reason to go out into the garage. It was pure happenstance
that I asked my son to use my car to run some errands that day.






As
I always did, I opened the door between the house and garage, hit the
opener, and waited for my son to help me out to the car. I remember
picking my car keys up off of the kitchen table, wondering why they
weren’t in the bowl by the door.


When
we walked out into the garage, I began to scream. On the floor was a
sleeping bag, with a pillow covered with a case in a pattern I
recognized (from my son’s bed) and a blanket I had been looking for
everywhere. Next to it was a military knapsack, a radio plugged into
an outlet, and a pile of food, wrappers, and empty cans. On the other
side of my car was a table and chair that had been sitting on my
deck, with an open can of soda sitting on the table. The passenger
seat in my car was inclined, as if someone had been sleeping there.





I
turned to my son and said, “Start taking photos.” Then I called
the police. We went back into the house to wait. By the time the
police arrived, the squatter had grabbed his things and we thought,
disappeared. But after a careful search, the police found a boy
hiding under my deck. It turned out it was someone we knew, well.





We
soon discovered that the squatter, who visited my home often, had
been leaving doors unlocked when he left at the end of the day. Then
he reentered my home at night, using the laundry, stealing food, and
generally hanging out in the basement.


My
son worked nights at the time and prior to leaving for work, he would
make sure I was safely settled onto the second floor of my home. I
was still relatively immobile and could not easily move between the
floors. That meant I could not investigate noises I thought I heard.
The boy knew I was recovering from a broken leg and took advantage.





However,
I had complained about noises to my son. Several times I had texted
him at work and insisting someone was in the house. I also kept
telling him that food I knew I had purchased was missing, such as
peanut butter, bread, cheese, and sandwich meat. But my son was
convinced the pain killers I was taking were messing with my head. I
admit that I felt a small bit of satisfaction when it was proved that
I was not a crazy old lady after all!





Once
the boy was removed from the premises, I significantly increased the
security in my home, got an order of protection, and attempted to
deal with the fact that we had unknowingly been at risk. Then the
incident took its real toll. My son became to have nightmares. I
had an MS exacerbation (attack) that seriously compromised my legs.
We were coping the best we could, but obviously, not enough.





So
when I volunteered to write a Summer Short for my publisher, eXtasy
Books, I decided to take the bull by the horns. What better way to
deal with a trauma than to write about it? So I did. I wrote a
fictionalized account of the incident, included our feelings of
outrage and betrayal, and added a romance between the homeowner and
the police chief. The Garage Dweller was born.






It
is important to note that while the actual garage dweller inspired
the story, I was careful to fictionalize everything, from the boy’s
age to the other characters involved. The similarities begin and end
with the discovery that someone was living in my garage and had
accessed my house. I wrestled with how much actual information I
could supply—even through the incident is a matter of public
record—and decided to err on the side of caution. I did not want
to become the target of a frivolous lawsuit. God knows, the courts
are flooded with way too many of those.





I
think the blurb for this story pretty much says it all:





Criminal
defense attorney Julianna Constant is skilled at emasculating
witnesses and hogtying juries, but she is unprepared to deal with a
homeless teenager found living in her garage. The boy she has known
since childhood wages an unwinnable battle to stay in her home, as
Constant struggles to protect her family. Ultimately, the threat to
her safety and emotional well-being mounts, and Julianna pushes back,
falling right into the arms of the new police chief, a man who always
carries two sets of handcuffs and uses them for more than just
restraining criminals!”






Sadly,
I do not know the local police chief, though I am sure he is quite
handsome and carries at least one set of handcuffs. However, this is
fiction, remember?





Unfortunately,
for my son and I, the story was far from over. We still had bad
moments, mostly triggered by some reminder of the event. Then I
began to dream about what would happen if The Garage Dweller
returned, and Chapter Six of Kinky Briefs, ThriceTeafoolery—was
born. In that story, Juliana and the Chief have married and are
happily ensconced in her home. When The Garage Dweller
returns to seek his revenge, it is with disastrous results. Julianna
and the Chief are forced to look inside themselves and decide what
the word, “justice,” truly means.






I
am enamored with the romance between the Chief Manders and Julianna
Constant, primarily because I am also in middle age, and like so many
in my age group, like to believe that love can happen at any age.
Besides, this is one lusty couple! I think it is safe to predict
that they will return in another edition of Kinky Briefs . I
have no idea when or where The Garage Dweller might reappear.
I guess I’ll have to see where my dreams take me.





Giveaway! Leave me a comment with your email below, and I will enter you into a drawing for one of two prizes: a copy of The Garage Dweller or a Kinky Briefs mug. (Mug for U.S. entrants only.)






The
Garage Dweller






Criminal
defense attorney Julianna Constant is skilled at emasculating
witnesses and hog-tying juries, but she is unprepared to deal with a
homeless teenager found living in her garage. The boy she has known
since childhood wages an unwinnable battle to stay in her home, as
Constant struggles to protect her family. Ultimately, the threat to
her safety and emotional well-being mounts, and Julianna pushes back,
falling right into the arms of the new police chief, a man who always
carries two sets of handcuffs and uses them for more than just
restraining criminals!





Excerpt





“I
walked down the stairs, Manders behind me, and turned into the living
room. On the sofa, his hands bound with flexi-cuffs,
sat a kid I had known since he was in kindergarten.





“What
the hell, Mikey?” I exclaimed. “You’re the
one who has been sneaking around my house in the middle of the
night?”





Mikey
had the decency to look ashamed. “It’s not like that,” he
began.





Danny
shoved the front door open and hurried in. He spotted Mikey and fury
clouded his face. He walked up to Mikey and slapped his head. “What
the fuck, Mike? What the hell are you doing scaring my Mom half to
death?” He picked up the phone and took a photo. “Give me one
good reason why I shouldn’t post this on Facebook…Tell the police
the truth or I am going to slap your ass all
over the Internet.”





Buy
Links






Publisher:
http://www.extasybooks.com/the-garage-dweller/

Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B073ZGPKMF/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500324866&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Garage+Dweller

BN:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-garage-dweller-seelie-kay/1126944841?ean=2940154495803



















Kinky
Briefs, Thrice






Take
a kinky romp through lawyerland!





Lawyers
get their kink on in this sizzling collection of short stories.
Through the eyes of a lawyer toiling away in the backroom of a law
firm, a wicked window into the legal world opens as she spins her
outrageous tales of lawyers in love, cranky judges, and those who
serve them. From a randy AG who uses his cycle to woo a young law
firm associate to a Sheikh and lawyer in a fight for their lives, or
a kinky lawyer struggling to adapt to a diagnosis of a crippling,
chronic illness to a rowdy fantasy about a new sheriff in town, each
lawyer attacks life with humor and passion, always ready to embrace
just a dash of kink. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you might even
blush, but one thing’s for certain, when you’re done reading,
you’ll run out and buy a set of handcuffs!





Excerpt





Chapter
Six-Teafoolery






Just
when you think you’ve closed the door, it is pushed back open and
new trouble comes tumbling in. It began with a homeless boy, a
garage, and a criminal defense attorney, and as any good fantasy
should, it ended with an attorney and police chief so hot he set
every woman’s naughty bits a shudder. He’s
the partner everyone wants to lean on, especially when the past
returns to haunt you. A continuation of “The Garage Dweller,”
featured in eXtasy Book’s 2017 Summer Shorts, the attorney and the
chief return to defend against a boy’s revenge.






***

Click!
Julianna sat up with a start. “David, is the alarm on?”





“Yes,
I turned it on before we headed upstairs.” The smoke alarms went
off and a disembodied voice declared, “Fire! Evacuate! Fire!
Evacuate!”





They
quickly pulled on robes and headed downstairs. David called the Fire
Department as they searched the house for smoke.
They found nothing. Finally, he opened the door to the
deck and ran outside. Up against the house, a garbage can was
emitting a swirl of black smoke. He kicked the can away from the
house and grabbed a hose, releasing a stream of water
to douse the flames. The can was smoldering by the time the
Fire Department arrived.





“Damn,
Chief, you must have pissed someone off,” one of the firemen said.





David
frowned. “More likely Jules. She’s the one who lives life on the
edge.”





Julianna
came out onto the deck and surveyed the melted pile of rubble on her
lawn. “I told Selia he wasn’t done. I bet it was Reverend Blume
or one his minions. I’m the one who blasted him in front of his
followers. He has a score to settle with me. It would be too obvious
if he went after Selia again.”





David
turned to the fireman. “Reilly, let’s leave everything as is and
call the arson squad. You don’t set a fire next to a house unless
you want it to spread.” He turned and peered under the eaves of the
house. “Looks like he took out the camera on the deck, but missed
this one here.” He pointed at the second spotlight up in the eaves.



“This
might have caught something. I’ll have the security company run it
in the morning.”





Publisher:
eXtasy Books

Extasy
Books (buy link): http://www.extasybooks.com/kinky-briefs-thrice/

Amazon:
coming

Barnes
and Noble: coming





About
Seelie Kay






Seelie
Kay engages in flights of fancy about lawyers in love, drawing on a
vivid imagination, an inquisitive mind, and more than 25 years in the
legal world.






After
stints as a journalist and lawyer, Seelie hung out her shingle as a
freelance writer, editor, and author. When not spinning her kinky
tales, Seelie ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other
professionals.






Seelie
resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where she
shares a home with her son and enjoys opera, gourmet cooking, organic
gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine.






Seelie
is an MS warrior and
ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those
diagnosed with MS: Never give up. We will find a cure!













Website:
www.seeliekay.com

Blog:
www.seeliekay.blogspot.com

Twitter:
@SeelieKay https://twitter.com/SeelieKay

Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/seelie.kay.77






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Published on September 14, 2017 00:00 • 9 views

September 13, 2017

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Ingredients of Bliss cover





Wednesday
again, which means it’s time for another Marketing For Romance
Writers Book Hooks blog hop!





Check
out my blurb and hook, from my outrageous BDSM ménage novel TheIngredients of Bliss . Then go visit
some of the other authors “hooking” you today!







Blurb




One
sexy
French
chef.
One
kinky
American
TV
producer.
One
ambitious
Chinese
gal
who
thinks
she
wants
them
both.
The
ingredients
of
bliss?
Or
a
recipe
for
disaster?




Accomplished
cook Mei
Lee ‘Emily’
Wong knows
exactly what
she wants—her
own show
on the
Tastes of
France food
channel. But
life is
full of
complications.
First, her
deceptively nerdy
producer, Harry
Sanborne,
initiates Emily
into the
delights of
submission. Then
her boss,
legendary chef
Etienne Duvalier,
begs her
to dominate
him. Emily
just can’t
resist—especially
when Harry
orders her
to explore
her inner
mistress. Suave
and sexy
Etienne will
do whatever
she asks—in
the bedroom
if not
in the
kitchen. And
Harry, her
lovingly
diabolical Dom,
adores pushing
Emily’s
limits.





When
the network
sends the
trio to
France to
shoot a
series of
cooking shows
on location,
Emily knows
her career
is on
the upswing.
Her plans
fall apart
in Marseille
as a
Hong Kong
drug syndicate
kidnaps both
Etienne and
Harry. The
Iron Hammer
Triad mistakes
Etienne for
notorious
gangster Jean
Le Requin,
who has
stolen their
drug shipment,
worth millions.
Emily realizes
she must
find the
real Le
Requin, retrieve
the purloined
dope, and
bargain it
for Harry’s
and Etienne’s
lives. The
secret she’s
been keeping
from Harry
might prove
useful. Still,
what chance
does one
woman whose
knife skills
are limited
to chopping
vegetables, have
against the
ruthless cruelty
of two
criminal
organizations?








 








The
Hook (Rated R)





He
broke the kiss and raised himself up on his forearms, gazing down at
me. “I love you, Emily.” He didn’t need to say the words. The
truth blazed in his face.






I
love
you
too. I
choked on
the admission,
unable to
give back
what he
needed and
deserved. How
could I
say I
loved him
after what
had happened
yesterday?
Miserable,
confused,
drowning in
self-reproach, I
remained silent.






“It’s
about Etienne, isn’t it?”




“What?”
His insight
shocked me
into a
response. “Um…no…
I mean…”




“Whatever
else you may or may not feel, don’t lie to me. Please.”




I
swallowed the lump in my throat and scanned his handsome face. I saw
no trace of anger. In fact, a hint of a grin played on his lips. I
nodded.




“Tell
me. Every detail.”




“I
can’t…”




“Mei
Lee Wong,
I swear
that if
you don’t
confess this
instant, I’ll
thrash you
with that
paddle we
bought last
week until
you can
barely walk!”
Yet even
as he
voiced this
threat, he
levered himself
off my
body and
thrust two
fingers into
my pussy,
triggering a
spasm of
exquisite
pleasure.




How
could I refuse him?












Buy
Links (available in ebook and print, too!)





Totally
Bound (with special bonus chapter!):

https://www.totallybound.com/book/the-ingredients-of-bliss




Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/Ingredients-Bliss-Whats-Her-Secret-ebook/dp/B00S16WI0K/




BN:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-ingredients-of-bliss-lisabet-sarai/1120338111?ean=9781784301965







Visit
some of today’s other Book Hooks posts!






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Published on September 13, 2017 00:00 • 2 views