I'm Tipping a Honey Red This Week....

To honor those who've served our country I want to draw your attention to a slashed priced for a book of mine that features a wounded vet....
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I have 5 (five) copies I'm willing to gift to the first 5 commenters here BUT note that the book is only .99 on retail sites and will remain marked down through the week!

All Romance ebooks
Smashwords
B&N
Amazon

The cover was specifically designed by an artist to resemble a beer bottle label...on purpose. Read the book to see why!


Blurb:
Two men suffering from visible and invisible wounds meet by chance circumstance.

Nick Traynor and Ian Donovan spend a lot of time and effort keeping it very hot, only physical, and purely superficial. But when their resolve starts to slip, a woman is tossed into their midst.

Hannah Williams wants nothing more than to do her job until something better comes along, but is forced to own up to her visceral reaction to Ian, her new boss, and later to Nick, his sometimes lover. 

Lust has a funny way of turning into companionship, and eventually evolving into a deeper connection. Faced with the internal and external complications of their potential three-way relationship, they begin to heal and trust, to consider that it might work. Then life tosses them a hardball, forcing them back into their respective corners, where each must choose what is most important.

Three people determined not to commit, thrown together by fate and undeniable attraction--their nights heat up and emotions run high in spite of a claimed mutual desire to "keep it simple." In the process of honest self-discovery, can they learn that while love is never simple, it is definitely worth fighting for?


And an R for content/language Excerpt: 
The dream was back. Nick knew it. Yet he was, as always, unable to stop it. He flinched, inhabiting that in-between state of sleep and wake, of before and after, of a whole Nick and a fractured one. The dream kept coming. Yelling…fire…sand…pain. Over and over again. He heard it a split second after he spotted the seemingly innocuous wire on the side of the road. He started to speak, to warn the driver then…yelling…fire…sand… pain became his entire universe. He opened his eyes expecting the bright, hot, blue sky. And saw nothing. He thrashed around, tried to find his weapon, remembered Dan was in the Humvee behind him and panicked all over again. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, and…shit…he couldn’t see. And his right leg was a flaming ball of agony. His ears rang, but he kept hearing the screams of men and women all around him. With a huge effort, he finally pulled loose from the safety harness and fell over onto all fours, trying to make his eyes and ears function. He felt around on the floor of the truck and connected with what felt like a man’s boot. As he felt his way up, he made contact with the bloodied flesh of the man’s leg, and he soon realized the limb was definitely not attached to anything else. He yanked his hand away, and brought it to his face. The sickening coppery smell of blood made him gag. He sat, blinking, but his eyes burned and watered so he shut them and kept crawling, trying to find the source of all the yelling. Dan. He had to find Dan. As he called out, picturing the younger man’s handsome face he put his hand out to thin air, and tumbled down to the sand. Yelling and cursing as his knee connected with something sharp sending a fresh bolt of pain up his spine, he froze when he heard it. “Nick!” 
He rolled over onto his side, felt around, keeping his eyes clenched shut to spare the agony of trying to force them to work, and attempted to stand. The horrific stench of burning flesh suffocated him. He held out a hand again, hoping to find something to grab onto to guide him back to the truck Dan had been in. “Nick!” the voice was hoarse, weak, but he recognized it. He and Chief Warrant Officer Daniel Anderson had been together for nearly two years. Dan was from Ohio, career military, and a computer super geek, like Nick. They were both high up on the “need to know” list and were able to manipulate more information between them than was probably healthy and led the small, secretive counter intelligence effort in this particular corner of hell. Nick was due to rotate back to the states in two weeks, and Dan was going to join him when he finished his tour a year later. Nick was as close to being in love as he would allow himself to admit with the tall, dark and handsome fellow Marine. The sound of Dan’s voice fading to his left in the chaos was freaking him the fuck out. That, and the fact he still could not see no matter how much he rubbed his eyes. His nasal passages and throat burned, but he ignored it all and dropped back to all fours, muscling through the agonizing pain in his knees and hips and half-crawled, half-dragged towards the sound. “Nick,” Dan coughed, just as Nick put a hand on what he hoped like hell was Dan’s arm, still connected to his torso. The yelling had mostly stopped, leaving in its wake a terrifying silence punctuated by the snap and crackle of flames and the yammering of a radio somewhere to his right. “Nick,” Dan croaked out, “I’m…shit….” He made a terrifying noise somewhere between a sob and a moan of pain. Nick dragged him up, held him close. “Shh, I’ve got it. Help me find the com. I can’t fucking see anything.” Dan groaned. The metallic odor of blood filled Nick’s nose again, making him want to puke. His hand found Dan’s, and he tried to remain calm, to remember his years of training. “Your face…” Dan whispered. “I know how good looking I am. Now help me find the com.” Nick grunted in pain when he started to stand again, his leg singing out a clear tune of torment. He shook, called on his inner reserve of Marine-instilled calm, took a breath, and let Dan grab his arm. If only he could just see. 

Plus one more excerpt 'cause I want you to want this book!
Rated NC17 (this is a "menage love story" ya know)....
Hannah stared around at the happy group at the reception. Beer rock stars abounded, as befitted the celebration of the nuptials of two of their own. The tables were gorgeously simple, with cream-colored tablecloths, red roses in the center and rich white china and crystal at every place. But as if in a nose-thumb to convention, the food was a mash up of “gourmet” and “beer snacks” which made for an incredible combination of giant pretzels with beer cheese made from the Ypsi Brewing India Pale Ale, to “burgers” that were actually sliders of lamb with rich blue cheese on top. It was classy to a fault, but over the top, including the five medium sized ice sculptures of beer steins that graced the giant buffet. She sat back, sipping her beer and watching the party unfold. She should so not have come here, especially not with a Donovan brother. Jesus. She closed her eyes a split second, relishing the way she felt—sated, enervated and tingly with anticipation all at once. She and Ian had been fucking around nearly daily, unable to keep hands off each other, and her body was beginning to adapt, and want more which Ian was eager to accommodate probably more than was strictly necessary. The words “just this once more” had become a sort of code for “come over here and fuck me.” Which he had, in his office, between fermenters, at his house and once, memorably, in her own office while she was trying to conduct a conference call with her on-the-road sales staff. She sighed, sipped some more and caught Jamie as he barreled by already high on an unlimited supply of cola and cake. “Hey, mister, come sit with me.” She loved this kid there was no doubt about that. His endless supply of positive energy was contagious. She knew Ian stressed over his parenting skills, but she had reassured him more than once that such a happy, comfortable in his own skin little boy did not occur by accident. “Hannah, lemme go. I want to see the dog.” He squirmed out of her grasp. “No, Jamie, don’t bother him….” she startled when a warm, wet, distinctly canine nose shoved her arm hard. “Hey,” she said, smiling and scratching the dog between the ears. She looked up, letting her gaze take in the full Marine dress uniform of the man attached to the animal. The crisp, formal clothes seemed to hang on him even though he was fit. It was obvious at one time he had been even bigger. His classical, masculine V-shape was breathtaking. His shoulders were broad but not bulky, his jaw firm, clean and the rest of his face at that moment showed stress that marred it. His golden yellow hair was thick, and touched the collar of the uniform jacket. She bit her lip and dispelled the sudden erotic loop of imagery—Ian and this man, together. “Hi,” she said, holding out a hand. “I’m Hannah.” His face turned to hers, and his smile was so incredibly sexy and innocent at the same time her heart started hammering in her chest. He held onto her a few seconds longer than was polite. She tugged but he wouldn’t let her go. “I hear your heart,” he said, quietly.  “Oh, wow, that’s…um, cool.” She had no idea what to do with her arms, hands, or heartbeat. Jamie was all over the dog, and Brutus was panting and wagging his tail like mad. The party flowed around them, getting louder by the minute. Suddenly, Hannah wanted to be alone or more precisely she wanted to be alone with the man in front of her. He wore his emotional pain like a medal on his uniform. And something about him compelled her to want to help—or possibly it was because Ian still loved him. Wow. This could get messy. She squared her shoulder and decided to stick with what usually worked best for—brutally direct. “You must be Nick.” His grin faded slightly. “Yeah, I guess I am the only blind ex-Marine with a dog date here, huh?” She leaned into him, determined to keep to the path of directness. “It’s okay. I know about you and Ian” He stiffened. “Really. Well, tell me something then, Hannah.” He put his lips near her ear. The overwhelming compulsion to put her hands on him made her knees wobbly. She gripped the chair back. The party noises kept ramping up. But she barely heard them, too mesmerized by Nick’s face, voice, and the warm hand in the small of her back. “Tell me what you think you know about me. And Ian.” His lips tickled, making her break out in goose bumps. She turned her head, saw Ian, caught his eye. And it gave her strength. “I know he loves you.” She said, then took Jamie’s hand and was about to lead him away before she said or did anything she couldn’t take back with the sad-faced, ridiculously handsome blind man in the Marine uniform. But Nick gripped her arm lighting a small fire on her skin. The dog snuffled around her leg, whining as if sensing his master’s distress. “The hell you say.” He said, his jaw tight. “Besides, he has the smell of you all over him right now. I don’t know if it’s your perfume or shampoo or what, but you smell like rich, sweet honey. And I can tell he’s been dipping into it—into you. Not that I blame him.” “I don’t wear perfume and use unscented shampoo.” Her knees shook at his innocuous yet sexy words. She ran a fingertip down his face, unable to resist. “Don’t,” he flinched away. “I’m not interested in your type.” But his low voice said otherwise. “You say that now….” she muttered, not even believing herself as she spoke. How she’d gone from celibate to caught between two smoking hot men more interested in each other escaped her understanding. But she was full on horny now. And knew who could help her out. Something about Nick’s vulnerable strength made her want to weep, to hold him to her breast, and to climb all over him and fuck him silly at the same time. Jesus, woman you are out of control. Without exchanging any more words, she let Jamie pull her away. “Where’s your dad?” she said, when he stopped in front of the giant buffet of beer-friendly finger food. She saw Gavin’s sons hovering in the corner and took Jamie over to them. They smiled at her and took their cousin over to the chocolate fountain. Hannah resisted the urge to stop them, realizing the kid might as well totally OD on sugar. It was a party after all. She looked around, spotted Alyssa and Gavin chatting with a huge group of beer people. Ian was nowhere in sight. And she had never needed him more. Ian frowned as a shiver slithered down his spine. He sipped, chatted with the owners of a couple of large Midwest breweries and tried to keep a bead on his kid, his date, and Nick. This whole thing was beyond imagining. He couldn’t wait until it was over. He supposed he’d be taking Hannah home, to his house. Gavin and Alyssa were leaving for their honeymoon in a couple of days—Munich, then Belgium, then France. He shook his head at their beer geekiness. The boys were headed back to the west coast, and Ian felt at loose ends, as if this were the precursor to everything changing. The band was setting up, ready to launch the mild cocktail party to the next stage. That weird tingly sensation hit him again. He looked around, ignoring the people in front of him seeking the red hair of one and the blond of another. He ended the conversation, wandered back to the bar, and had them pour him another mild lager. He was trying to keep it cool, to be the sober one. A hand on his waist, that then dropped down to his ass made his cock press against the back of his zipper so fast he gasped, and stepped away from her. “Cut it out,” he muttered into his beer. “Ian,” Hannah whispered, setting his every nerve ending on edge. “I need you.” He gripped her arm, pulled her close. “No you don’t,” but he knew what she meant. He grabbed her hand and tugged her away from the crowd, finding the steps down to the basement underneath the club where Gavin and Alyssa were holding their reception. And his body was crying out, fairly screaming for contact with her. He no longer heard the band, or the conversations, or pretty much anything but her voice in his ear as they found a dark corner. This sex-soaked journey they’d embarked on was alarming to him on some level, as if he had to keep their physical contact to maintain some kind of mild emotional connection that he craved. “Jesus, Red, what’s gotten into you?” he groaned and shoved her skirt up, needing to touch her, to taste her. She smiled and handed him a condom. Experiencing a half second of frustration at the interruption, Ian wondered just how she would feel without the thin latex between them. But he’d declared this a hard and fast rule. Her adaption to it was admirable. “You have, Ian. God, help me.” She sighed, as he ran his thumb across her lips and stroked into her warm, welcoming grip, shoving her hard up against the wall. “Yes, oh yes.” She gripped his hair, yanked his face to hers and kissed him as she clenched, pulling him over the orgasmic edge fast. “Shit,” he grunted, gripping her ass and pumping into her. “You are…ah, god.” She smiled, threaded her fingers in his hair. “Lucky me. I remembered your condoms.” “Yeah,” he said, burying his face between her breasts. A sweet scent filled his nose, something he’d noticed before around her but that seemed even more intense right now in this illicit hidden space under his brother’s newly married feet. “Hannah,” he sighed. “Huh,” she said, lifting herself up and off him, zipping him back up and adjusting her dress. “That’s me.” He pulled the condom off, his face flushed and his heart pounding. He stopped her from fidgeting around with her hair, held her face and stared into her eyes. “You are going to kill me. Or something.” She bit his lower lip and slipped out from under his touch, like she always did. “Something I’d hope. So you’re around for more.” She took a few steps away as he leaned in the doorway to the storage room, trying to recover and get a grip on his roiling emotions. “Oh, uh, hi, Nick.” Ian tucked his shirt back in, reassembling himself fast, then looked up and saw him, the man he believed he loved, if he would admit it, standing with a look of disbelief on his face. Ian tried to process the words he spoke. “You know that honey smell I told you about upstairs? It’s even stronger now,” Nick said, leaning into Hannah but keeping his face turned to Ian. Ian started to say something but the sight of Nick’s strong, firm, uniform clad form close enough to Hannah to reach out and hold her close had rendered him utterly speechless. Nick went on. “Sorry to interrupt. But your son is throwing a fit worthy of a pop star diva up there. I was sent to find you. I guess I can thank my dog that I got to catch the last bit of your quickie.” He put his lips near Hannah’s neck, and Ian saw her tremble. Nick licked his lips, then turned and walked slowly back up the steps. Ian stood, mouth gaping open. Hannah scratched her nose, fiddled with her hair. “Wow.” She said, not looking at him. “Yeah,” he said, walking past her. But she put a hand on his arm. “You need to clear the air with him.” She said. “For both of your sakes.” Her eyes were sad, and Ian felt all kinds of shitty at that moment. “Hannah, I….” He tried to summon the guts to say what he was feeling at that moment—to be utterly honest, as they had declared they would be. They had no emotional connection, at her insistence. And what was washing through him at that moment was nothing but a raw, aching need to watch as Nick kissed Hannah. But the words required to describe that sounded selfish, or depraved. She touched his cheek then climbed the stairs leaving him alone with his ragged, tumbled thoughts. 

So...leave a comment below and the first 5 folks who do get a FREE ebook copy of HONEY RED....