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Saturday, July 4, 2015

Happy Independence Day!

American Independence Day, that is...
 The 4th of July is the day the US celebrates it's Independence from Great Britain...and I'll be celebrating by offering a free e-book to everyone who leaves a comment on this post.

God bless all of our readers, fans, and author friends. In the spirit of Independence Day, you can take your pick of any one of my self-published novellas. Just leave me your e-mail addy and which self pubbed book you prefer, and I'll zip it off in the following 24 hours. So if you don't have all of my books, now's your chance to get a freebie!
 
Take care and have a marvelous holiday! 
 
 
 
 





 
Take your pick...and enjoy the weekend!

Hugs!

Fran Lee

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Still Touring The Galaxies

Book #1 in the Fated Mates of Mesta series

Creating the Slaterine culture and a love story with four participants was extremely challenging in the very best ways possible. The process took me way out of my comfort zone and ultimately did wonders for my confidence level.

Megan's Men is available as an audio and an e-book!!

Megan's Men
Copyright: Tessie Bradford 2013

Blurb:
Megan Lynch has had a very bad year. Her husband took off with most of their assets and a twenty year old bimbo. She lost her job and has nowhere to live. Accepting a management position at a research facility on a distant planet was supposed to be the first step to a new start. But now her transport has been cancelled indefinitely. She’s stranded, exhausted, defeated, and utterly pissed off.
Garfor, Rork and Loban came to Earth for a one day trading mission. Finding their woman alone and upset in the travel port is both a blessing and extremely upsetting. She is unfamiliar with their ways, and Garfor is forced to use deceit to get her onto their ship and off the planet. With only a few days to convince her she is destined to be theirs forever, all three men are more than willingly to rise to the challenge.

EXCERPT:
They entered the docking bay. Megan stared at the enormous ship in front of her. “Wow, this is magnificent.”
“Thank you, swaya, it pleases me greatly that you recognize the worthiness of my craft.” He gently brushed the side of her face with his index and second finger.
“I don’t understand the word swaya,” she said quietly, surprised that when she repeated the word, it felt natural, comfortable.
“Are you certain?” he asked, staring down intently into her eyes. “It’s a term of utmost endearment in my native language.”
Her skin tingled, her nipples hardened and the bay seemed to tilt slightly. Megan closed her eyes and swallowed rapidly, hoping it would settle her obviously still-frayed nerves.
“Let’s get aboard. It’s time for us to depart, and you need to rest.”
 Megan didn’t argue. All of a sudden, the stress of her day hit her like a ton of bricks. Her legs shook as she ascended the ramp to the ship. The entry door lifted with a loud whooshing sound. Garfor steadied her as she stepped inside. Megan scanned the expansive space, determining right away that it was the cockpit of the ship.
Two men turned away from their respective consoles. Expressions of utter surprise flashed across their faces for a split second before they jumped out of their chairs. They placed their left fist over their chest. Garfor returned the gesture.
“Rork, Loban, this is Megan Lynch.” Garfor pointed to each as he said their name.
She understood it was rude to stare, but couldn’t help herself. Plus, they were openly checking her out, so Megan decided maybe in their culture it was okay. Both were shirtless, tall and muscular, with intricate black tattoos across their broad shoulders, but Rork was slightly stockier. Loban had white-blond hair, Rork’s was deep brown, and neither wore it as long as Garfor’s. They were stunningly handsome, and Megan’s heart fluttered.
Rork stepped forward and in a single, fluid motion, Garfor removed his robe and handed it to him. Like the others, he was bare from the waist up, and muscular, chiseled perfection. He was decorated with similar tattoos, and his arms; well, a girl could spend hours running her fingers over those sculpted biceps and triceps and whatever else was there.
Megan’s eyes widened as she perused south of his waist. His pants clung like a second skin, outlining the muscles of his thighs and the imposing ridge beneath the lace holding closed the fly area. Black, polished knee high boots completed the outfit.
Her breath hitched as an image flashed through her mind. She pictured herself holding onto Garfor’s shoulders with her legs wrapped around his hips. While he supported her effortlessly and fucked her senseless, Rork and Loban watched. Her cunt heated at the imagery.
He leaned down until his lips touched the edge of her ear. “Slaterine men are extremely attuned to their woman’s sexual desires. It’s been delightfully challenging for me to control myself with you so far. You keep looking at me that way while enjoying whatever naughty thoughts have accelerated your breathing and heated your body, and we’re going to take you right here.” He kissed the sensitive area behind her earlobe before pulling away.
Her pulse pounded as nova-worthy horniness raced through her. We’re? Did he just say we’re?


Happy Thursday everyone~
Tessie
www.tessiebradford.com
Facebook:tessie.bradford.1





Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Crashing Into Love. Fabulous Box Set Fun!




Crash and Burn is a novella in the Crashing Into Love book bundle.
Crash and Burn by Melissa Keir
Can Rob and Keira's second honeymoon lead to romance, or will it crash and burn?

On the verge of a divorce, Rob and Keira Matthews book a second honeymoon at the urging of their counselor. Unable to conceive, they've pushed each other away in an effort to protect their hearts. Will a romantic holiday be the ticket to love or a plane crash in disaster?

BUY LINKS:





Excerpt 
Crashing waves.
A wet tongue on her cheek.
Damp and lying on a hard ground, Keira rolled to her side and coughed up water. Unable to catch her breath, she pushed herself up on her hands and knees. Choking, coughing, fluid flowed from her lungs.
Somewhere nearby, the dog barked.
“Oh, my God. Rob!” She crawled to her husband’s prone body at the edge of the water. She flipped him to his back then laid her head on his chest. No heartbeat.
“Honey. Wake up.” She pounded on his chest. Tears flowed down her face. “I won’t give you up. We’ve had too much history. Fight, baby. Come back to me.” She straddled his body and began chest compressions. “One, and two, and three.” She parted his lips then blew into his mouth. She returned to pushing on his chest. “One, and two, and three. Come on, dammit. Fight!”
Time ceased as she continued the compressions. Frightened, she shuddered then threw her body down over his chest. Sobs decimated her frame.
“Please, God. Don’t take him from me.” Pleading, bargaining, beseeching.
Water flowed out of his mouth as coughs rocked him. He gagged.
“Rob!” She pushed him onto his side and thumped on his back as he expelled more water. “Thank God. Just cough it out.”
“Please don’t cry.” His words croaked out as he rolled onto his back. His gaze met hers. He reached toward her face, but his arm fell back to the sand.
“We need to get you out of the water. I can’t do it on my own.” She stood and grabbed under his arms. Pulling him, she quickly tired. “You have to help. Use your legs and push.”
This time, he moved out of the water. Gris lay down next to Rob and licked his hand.
“I’m going to look around.” As she straightened, her legs buckled, and she collapsed on the sand. “I think I’ll just lie here for a bit.” She curled in next to her husband and let sleep overtake her.



Crashing Into Love:
Seven planes lift off…seven planes crash…seven stories of struggle, passion and love in the barren Canadian Wilderness, the coast of England, or the steamy heat of a tropical island. Romance hangs in the balance between survival and death.

Brace for Impact by Daryl Devoré.
What could be simpler than a routine plane trip from Toronto, Canada to Caracas, Venezuela for rookie flight attendant, Lori, and sexy R.C.M.P. officer, Guy Lapierre? But Fate had other intentions.

Crashing into You by Lisa Kumar
When Ashlee Trent meets handsome businessman Kaiden West on a plane to Australia, he eases her fears even as he sets her heart ablaze. But after their plane crashes into the ocean and they wash ashore, will the secrets surrounding him send their budding relationship into a nosedive?

Crashing Through Time by Jenna Jaxon
The most dangerous thing about time travel is knowledge of the past: does she save him and change history, or let the tragic events play out and lose the love of her life?
More than hearts can be broken when you crash through time. 

Love Comes Crashing In by Brenda Dyer
Best friends find love in each other's arms, but can that love survive reality?

Falling Hard by D'Ann Lindun
He craves solitude to forget what a woman did to him. She needs one last chance before her career ends. Can a plane crash in the Canadian Rockies show them what really matters?

A Splash of Romance by Deb Julienne
Who knew a plane crash would lead to romance? Hannah Parks is a trauma nurse on her way to a symposium at the Sister Kenny Rehabilitation Institute. She just started her bucket list and a plane crash definitely isn't on it.  Oliver Lawson's divorce is final and he's looking to start over. A tropical island, a gorgeous woman. Romance is one thing, getting there as a result of a crash landing...who knew? 



About Melissa Keir:
For my wedding in Vegas, my books and computer came with me but there wasn't enough room for my wedding shoes. It’s all about priorities! As an avid reader, I was probably born with a book in hand. Luckily my mom was also an avid reader, so it was easy to "borrow" her books when my books were finished.
I was reading from an early age about dashing men on horseback riding to the rescue of strong willed and capable women who didn't really need rescuing. I came to expect that women in fairy tales should have fought their own battles. When I was older, I found Margaret Atwood and realized that women could re-tell history in their own way and I experimented with changing those basic fairy tales.
Fortunately for me, my husband allows me the opportunity to be myself (spend my salary on books) and still takes care of the really important things for me like killing spiders and opening jars. As an elementary teacher, teaching children about the many worlds inside of books is a gift that I’m lucky enough to do for a living. Teaching the next generation to love reading is a lot of fun! Reading the right book can make a new world come alive!
Currently living in the suburbs of Ann Arbor, Michigan with my darling husband, way-too-grown-up children and spoiled dogs, I enjoy getting away through a book to escape the harsh winters or summer road construction.


I’d love to hear from you!



Monday, June 29, 2015

Cerise offers yummy excerpt of INTERLUDE WITH A BARON, 99cent #Regency!


This limited edition box set includes 6 scorching romances that commemorate the 200th anniversary of the June 18, 1815 Battle of Waterloo.

From the Duchess of Richmond’s ball in Brussels to the Battle of Waterloo and beyond, join these six unforgettable heroes as they journey back from the physical and emotional trials of war and discover the passion that thrills the body can also heal the heart. 

June 18th from bestselling and award winning historical romance authors Cerise DeLand, Sabrina York, Suzi Love, Lynne Connolly, Suzanna Mederios and Dominique Eastwick.

Order now: Amazon    ARe    KOBO

Interlude with a Baron by Cerise DeLand
Emma wants only an interlude with the man she’s adored for years. But Drayton Worth has spent five years riddled with guilt for hurting her—and he’s determined to have more than a few nights in her bed.

An excerpt from Cerise DeLand’s INTERLUDE WITH A BARON:
  “Excuse me, will you?” Dray dismissed himself from the group. He had four days to talk with all these people at this house party. What lured Dray was his favorite puzzle. The famous Marlthorpe maze.
  He escaped through the French doors opening to the veranda and the complex design of the evergreens. He loved this labyrinth, its path copied from an ancient Greek oracle. For many years, he’d come here to Marlthorpe’s springtime party and sought out the serenity of the garden and the mental exercise it afforded. Puzzles were his favorite pastime when he was not making money.
Starting down the entrance, he paused a moment to consider the right turn or the left. He’d tried the left last year and found it led to a circular route back to the entry. Right then, it would be. The yews had grown two inches or more since last spring and the enclosure was quiet, comforting. That is, it was until he heard giggles from another quarter of the shrubbery.
  The sounds were those of a young child and a woman.
  “Come now, Christine,” the female voice was low, breathless. It had a distinctive rasp.
  Dray halted.
  “You must put on your mask, dearest. You have the advantage if you can see!” The woman laughed though she tried to sound stern.
  And Dray swallowed, drowning his instincts about the identity of the lady who chased her daughter in the garden.
   The child shrieked in delight, then pattered away.
  Rustlings in the bushes gave evidence of the two running.
  “I found you!” the woman said.
  “Not fair. Not fair, Miss Bedlow.” The girl objected but laughed nonetheless.
   Miss Bedlow? How could it be?  
   Dray stared at the wall of greenery.
   The two chuckled and chased each other.
   The woman stopped. “Wait, Christine!”
   He spun around, following the sounds, his head whirling with the shock and the possibility that Emma Bedlow was a guest at this party. That she played with a child.
   And that she was in this garden and he was, too. After years of taking care to never cross her path, how ironic that he could come to a house party on a spring afternoon in Berkshire and be so near.
   He stood, confounded by his choices. Call to her. See her. In truth, over the next three days, he would eventually be near her. To converse. To dine. To dance. Better to face her alone now than later in a room filled with curious spectators.
  So be it. Following their voices, he tracked her and her charge down one path and left across another. Luck was with him and he recalled one lane with the grey stone bench…and another one with the potted white roses along the east barrier.
  The noises stopped.
  The girl asked a question and Emma answered, walking toward him and laughing.
  Anxious, fretful, he turned a corner.
   Halted.
   Let his eyes revel in the sight of her.
   She was holding hands with a girl and beginning a children’s roundelay.
  The girl broke away from her, racing around like a little animal and not watching where she was going, she ran right into Dray.
   With a grunt, she froze and peered up at him.
   Dray caught the child with hands to her shoulders. She squirmed and pleaded with him to let her go.
   But Dray had no presence of mind to do it. He gazed at Em, his soul drinking in her pale green gown, her fuller figure, her wealth of midnight hair. He had died of thirst for years to see her—and he rejoiced that she appeared hale and hearty, even happy, if also at the moment, shocked to stillness.
  What to say to her? What to call her? He wouldn’t address her by her title. That was one she’d hated, never wanted. And since the autumn, she told it about that she wished to discard her married name for her maiden.
  “My lady, how wonderful to see you again.”
  She gaped at him as she blinked and stepped backward. “My lord.”
  “I had no idea you were here.”
   “I—I was amusing her, tiring her before…”
   He tore his gaze from hers and looked at the girl with a critical eye. The child was too old to be hers and Montroy’s. Was she ten? Eleven? Twelve years old, at the very most. When he’d last seen Em after Waterloo, she’d been married only a year and the anniversary of that great battle would be five years in June. This child was not hers.
  He peered at her. “You are invited to the house party?”
   Emma shook her head so forcefully that her shining hair, so thick, fell from her pins, draping her shoulders with fat curls. “ Yes. But I will not attend.”
   He took a step nearer. She was as lovely—no, even more beautiful than she’d been as an eighteen-year-old dancing in his arms at the Dunstables’ ball. Now she was what? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?   Her cheeks were plumper. Her exotic aqua eyes round with shock. Her form was fuller. A woman, no longer a girl. A woman who had seen too much agony and deserved all the laughter and light she could garner in her lifetime.
   “I don’t understand. Are you not a guest?”
  “I am acting governess to the earl of Tunbridge’s daughter. Forgive me. This is Lady Christine, my lord. My dear, I present Baron Lansdowne.”
   While the girl murmured how she was pleased to meet him, he took a second to realize Em used the formal title of Naill Wainwright. Astonishing, too, was that this child was Naill’s, the one no one ever saw and often remarked might not exist.
   “You are employed?”
   “I am.”
   That confused him. She had money. He’d made certain of it. His sum complemented that from her mother’s dowry, which her father had not been able to throw after bad schemes, grasping mistresses and cards. “Will you come inside and—?”
   “No, my lord.” She stiffened and never took her eyes from him. “I cannot.”
  “I am so delighted to see you, Em.”
   She looked as if she were about to cry. But she took hold of her charge’s hand. “I must go.”
   “Wait, Em. I must talk to you.” Make amends.
   “I do not wish to speak with you. Go about your party, my lord. Say nothing, I beg you, of this or me to anyone.”
   The Elgin family had invited her. They had evidently accepted that she needed careful assistance to enter society again. He didn’t understand why she hung back.
   Unless she was angry at him.
  And he couldn’t blame her. “Em, I mean you no harm.”
   She put up a hand. “Please, Dray. I must do this my way. Let me go in peace.”
   And since she had had so little of it in her life, he did as she asked and watched her leave him. As she always did.
********
INTERLUDE WITH A BARON is part of
Regency Romp series
which begins with
LADY VARNEY'S RISQUE BUSINESS
followed by
RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE
and within a few weeks, the third in series~
MASQUERADE WITH A MARQUESS.

Not read the others?
Start now!
                   Then watch for MASQUERADE in a few weeks!


Saturday, June 27, 2015

How many of our followers actually read us each day?


I love this blog...

I really am curious about how many of the hundred or more blog followers we have here actually come over to read?  I am talking about supporting the authors you have been kind enough to follow when you added your name to the list of those who follow this blog. (I know...we did a bit of arm twisting to get you here. Sorry.)

I know I have been extremely lazy lately. I used to post a lengthy blog piece and always came over to see what everyone else was up to...but things have come up over the past year...including the death of my daughter...and I have become very lax. 

You know, I used to belong to a dozen or more multi-author blogs, and I was the Rah-Rah queen cheerleader gal for all my author friends for a number of years, even setting up Yahoo Groups to share news and fun with them. I supported everyone back then...was totally gung-ho. 

And then things started to go downhill...my damn muse took off on sabbatical and didn't come back for months and possibly even a year or two. Being totally bummed out and depressed left me feeling very empty. 

But now I am trying my best to get back into the saddle, and am ready to start doing all I can to help support my pals again.

So just to satisfy my own curiosity, I am asking every person who reads this post to just leave a ONE-WORD COMMENT...nothing spectacular...just as a sort of roll call of blog followers. Let's see if more than two people comment this time.

I see only two people who unfailingly comment. We take the time to comment on each other's posts because we love each other dearly...and I feel terrible when these wonderful gals only get two comments after all the hard work they have done.  So it's time for all you followers to tell us you are really out there, and actually do read us. 

My ever lasting thanks to Tessie, Cerise and Katalina for all your kind support over the years. You have made this blog a labor of love, and I would love to see more readers appreciate your efforts. We need to support each other better...

Hugs,