For me it simply sizzles from the screen and draws me in to learn more.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
For me it simply sizzles from the screen and draws me in to learn more.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Mistletoe Studs available now at www.aspenmountainpress.com
“Did someone come without asking permission?” Shane asked.
“That didn’t sound sincere to me. What do you think Brad?”
“I didn’t know I needed permission. No one told me,” she said in her own defense.
What was he thinking? One of those ball gags she seen on the flyer? She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“Take the blindfold off her,” Shane said to Brad.
“You thought what?” Shane challenged.
“I thought you wanted me to taste you.”
“I think someone really enjoys being punished,” Shane stated.
Monday, June 28, 2010
About the closest thing I've done to actual camping is when my husband, two of our kids, and I, used my in-laws camper and drove up to Niagara Falls, crossed into Canada, and then drove through some New England states. The camper had a kitchen, beds, bathroom/shower, and electrical power when we "plugged in" at campgrounds.
Now, hiking and camping are hobbies tons of people enjoy...and I say have at it..just please, don't take me with you! I'll do my hiking in malls, thank you. Walking around the neighborhood or at malls is fine...I don't need to see every flower/shrug/insect nature has to offer.
Heck...I don't even like picnics...never did...because I don't DO bugs. Yeah, I was a moper at family outings as a child and avoided going if I could.
I tried one outdoor sport...golf. Hated every minute. I REALLY tried to like it, but the thought of spending hours chasing a tiny ball I usually either missed hitting or hit by trees in warm temperatures just never appealed to me. Anyone interested in buying used women's left-handed golf clubs?
I go to baseball/football games...as long as it's not too hot or too cold. I want my comfort. And my hot dogs.
Now, if these HUNKS were to invite me to share a tent and go camping, I'd have to rethink my whole "I don't like the outdoors" attitude...wouldn't you do the same thing? They could set up camping equipment, build campfires, make dinner. Hell...the one on the right already has a tent and jacket and likes to camp during the holidays. I could fit easily between the two of them in one giant sleeping bag...sharing's a good thing! So's body warmth, heat, snuggling, touching...etc.
Hmm. Maybe then I'd enjoy the wonders of nature...and the men who share that interest!
I'm actually writing/editing a book about a woman who knows zilch about camping but goes with the hero to try and pass herself off as a seasoned camper...sounds like something I definitely can relate to...not knowing a damn thing!
Photos: Flickr: wine me up, adam79, and Here in Van Nuy's photostreams, and Rockshots.com
Sunday, June 27, 2010
The Stanhope clan has an enormous problem: No one of them has ever had a happy marriage since Charles II seduced one of the Stanhope wives and made her his loyal mistress.
Now nearly 140 years later, three brothers, their half-sister--and those whom they dare to love--will find that the family Curse might just well be an excuse.
You, Dear Reader, need to come and learn if this is so.
Tuesday at Resplendence Publishing Lord Adam Stanhope takes a wife. His second. The first has gone to her maker, after leaving her own stain upon Adam's heart and mind. Alas, this second wife of his is proving a bit of a handful on her own. You see, she refuses to accept Adam's improper proposal of a marriage in name only.
Of course, others in the ton have their own ideas about that. How to end the marriage. How to save it.
Do come and revel in the Stanhopes' methods for dealing with the Challenge!
First is LORD STANHOPE'S IMPROPER PROPOSAL. In July, do come for a Free Read about Clarice, the brothers' infamous half-sister, in LADY RAMSEY'S RIBALD CHOICES.
Then, two more books. One in November.
Another in February!
Happy Reading !
Friday, June 25, 2010
Anyway - head over to my site:
Scroll down and leave me a comment - you could win this amazing tote! It features covers with model Jimmy Thomas - including my cover for My Everything. You'll recognize so many wonderful authors.
Cat not included!
Ellora's Cave 2009
What good is a dream income, access to a private jet, all the perks that go with being Mike Furie’s überproficient personal assistant, if Jillian has no life? She wants a life with a man in it. And staying with overbearing, totally sexy, self-serving bachelor Mike will lead nowhere.
A trip to
So how the hell did she end up in bed with him in a Tahoe honeymoon suite, naked? Why can’t she recall how her signature got on that marriage license?
Copyright © FRAN LEE, 2009
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
She straightened her shoulders and headed for the curved staircase that led up to the third level of the huge house. She noted the heads that turned to follow her, and bit the corner of her lip. The sapphire-blue silk gown with its overdress of gold netting was certainly an eye-catcher, especially with the back of the dress practically nonexistent. Draping seductively from a crossover halter neckline that left barely enough room for the exquisite diamond and sapphire choker to rest above the material, it fell away to her feet in a sultry, swirling fall that brushed over breasts and hips like a soft hand. The matching tennis bracelet and the long dangle earrings sparkled under the track lights that lit the staircase with a soft glow.
She had not had time for a hairdo, so she had simply swept the thick red-gold curls up into a high-set ponytail at her crown, and had wound another bit of sapphire silk around the band to conceal the elastic. It gave the impression that her neck was longer and left the gorgeous earrings plenty of space to sway and glitter breathtakingly.
She stepped up the final carpeted stair and paused, glancing around the smaller salon that opened up over the gallery at the head of the stairs, before narrowing to the corridor that led to the bedrooms at the back of the level. The bronze and smoked glass chandelier at the apex of the vaulted ceiling cast warm light over the area, and made her shimmery gold overdress and glittering jewels look even more amazing than they had in the showroom. She decided that not a soul would recognize her unless she introduced herself, so she gathered her courage and moved slowly toward the center of the gallery, looking about for Furie.
Heads turned to follow her progress, but no one called out her name. She was not a familiar face to the beautiful people. Only his employees knew her well enough to recognize her. Her anonymity was assured.
And then she saw him, standing uncomfortably in a tight group of people, with a stunningly beautiful supermodel type holding onto his arm like she had grown there, her laugh a high tinkle of feigned amusement that never quite reached those gorgeous amber-colored eyes. She stood for a long moment, relishing the amount of discomfort he was experiencing, waiting for his eyes to swivel her way before she made her grand entrance.
A man turned to glance at her from a jovial conversation beside her, and gave her a keen once-over before sidling up to her and introducing himself. He didn’t have to. She would known his face from the magazine
“I haven’t seen you around before. And from the look of that boulder on your hand, I’d say you were taken…but Heaven help me, I wouldn’t be a red-blooded male if I didn’t try.” Jerrod slid one lean hand around her waist, and tried to draw her closer. His reward was an acid stare that could have wilted the entire White River National Forest. He grinned and released her waist, and said in a husky tone that had dropped an octave, “Who’s the lucky devil who’s got you wrapped around his pinkie?”
“I should have guessed, Gorgeous. But if you ever decide to trade up, I’m always around.” He vacated his spot beside her as Furie slowly extracted himself from the other woman’s grasp, with a quiet, “Excuse me.” Heads turned as he stepped out of the tight knot of bodies and moved across the gallery toward her, and she fought the urge to bite her knuckles and whimper. That man had such a walk!
She managed a brilliant smile up into his eyes as he stopped so close, she could feel his body heat through the silk of her gown, and she placed her hand with the blinding rock on it on his forearm, and said just loudly enough to be overheard for about ten feet, “Mike! Darling! I’m sorry I’m late!”
She noted the circuitous route those eyes took as they slipped over her gown, her jewelry, and the impressively breathtaking engagement ring she was prominently displaying, and a muscle twitched in the deep groove beside his mouth. He seemed to be fighting some dark and angry emotion that she feared she would hear about later, and in the most uncomplimentary tones possible, but surprisingly, he gave her a sexily crooked smile.
“Don’t I even get a kiss after waiting all this time for you to finally show up?” His voice was a sexy growl that was just loud enough for everyone within ten feet to hear clearly, although he pretended to be speaking for her ears alone. Jill felt like they were in a fishbowl, the way all eyes were glued to them. She stood up on her tiptoes and aimed for his cheek. But before her lips made contact, he turned his head and she ended up planting one smack-dab on his smiling mouth. And oh, what a mouth the man had…
And he didn’t settle just for a friendly kiss. He slid his arms around her body and dragged her up against his chest, smoothly covering her jerk of shock by catching the back of her head in the palm of one hand and slanting his mouth to take hers completely. His strong, champagne-flavored tongue slipped easily past her lips as she opened them to ask what the hell he was doing. Her heart rate ratcheted up as he traced the inside of her mouth sensuously. If she hadn’t known her boss so damned well, that kiss might have fooled even her, but she figured he had paid through the nose to be kissed, and she decided that she might as well let ’er rip.
Warring with his tongue, she explored the warm depths of his mouth as she slid her hands up behind his head and arched her body into his tuxedo, pressing her hips against his suddenly burgeoning cock, ignoring the rush of excitement his highly obvious arousal gave her, as she did exactly what she had wanted to do for the past six-plus years.
She kissed him—savagely, hungrily, possessively! Giving as good as she got from him, even though with him it was just an act to discourage the positively fuming blonde who had turned and stomped off toward the stairs back to the second level.
His mouth was decadently hot and delicious. The expensive champagne was dry and heady on his tongue, and she could not possibly have imagined how it would feel to have him kissing her like this—not even in her wildest wet dreams! His hot, spicy masculine scent filled her nostrils. Her heart felt like a super ball that might easily zap its way straight out the front of her silk gown and go bouncing wildly across the carpet if he kept kissing her.
Tongues tangling voraciously, breathing uneven and heated, their bodies were plastered hungrily against each other as his arms pulled her so tight into his embrace she could almost feel his spine. And then his hand cupped her ass in a familiar, possessive squeeze, and she inhaled and tried to back away. He murmured huskily against her lips, “Relax. You’ll survive.”
And just for fun, I will give a copy away FREE to one commenter who will be drawn from the hat next Friday. I will announce the winner next Saturday.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Delia is happy being a stay-at-home wife, spending her husband's money. Only
problem? Scott doesn't share her enthusiasm. Yes, he wants his wife to enjoy the finer
things in life, but he wants her to stay within a budget.
Delia can't stick to a budget.
To teach her a lesson, Scott paddles her.
Who knew getting spanked could be so arousing? Not Delia, but now that Scott's
turned her on, she wants more. In fact, she might go over her limit just to feel the
Can Scott rein her in before they both end up in the poorhouse?
“Delia!” Scott’s voice reverberated through the house.
Delia paced the bedroom carpet in her silk pantyhose-covered feet and wrung her
hands. The tone in her husband’s voice confirmed he’d seen the pile of bills. He’d just
gotten home from work, and she imagined he’d tossed his briefcase on the kitchen table
and glanced through the junk mail until he found the credit card statement—the one
she stuck at the bottom of the pile in the hope he’d give up midway through. No such
She pictured him tearing it open with a need to know if she’d gone over her
monthly limit yet again. He’d scan the statement looking for the new charges, and upon
discovering what she’d purchased, hit the roof.
His voice echoed through the house. “Delia!”
“In the bedroom,” she called out. She couldn’t hide. The bedroom was his next stop
after reading the mail.
When his heavy footsteps hit the stairs, Delia held her breath. What was he going to
do? He warned her not to overspend again, told her she wouldn’t like the consequences
if she did. And she had.
She couldn’t help it. She liked to shop. She liked having new clothes, purses and
shoes. Never mind the music and workout equipment she bought to keep the trim body
he loved so much.
He appeared in the doorway looking dishevelled. His tie hung loose and the top
button of his crisp white shirt was undone. His trench coat hung off one shoulder. His
blond hair was a mess. He’d been raking his fingers through it. His dark eyes flared,
trumpeting his fury. She recognized the look and it boded trouble.
“Hi,” she said.
“What did I tell you about going over your limit?” he demanded. He seemed
almost saddened by her lack of control.
She stifled the urge to roll her eyes and bite back the smartass remark. The situation
didn’t call for sarcasm. “I’m sorry?” Even to her, the apology sounded weak.
“That’s what you said last month and the month before. How many times will I
hear I’m sorry? Why can’t you stay within budget so you don’t have anything to be
“I tried, Scott, really I did. I wanted to work out at home rather than the gym so I
bought the equipment.” She lowered her eyes. “I thought you’d want me to exercise at
home, away from all the young men’s prying eyes.”
“Don’t give me that crap,” he roared. He walked to his closet, swung open the
double doors, and hung up his coat.
“It’s not crap; I do want to exercise at home.”
“Okay, but what about the other charges from the shoe store you love so much or
the various clothing stores. What’s your excuse for those?”
She didn’t have one. Just boredom. With all the free time she had on her hands she
used it shopping. Scott had told her she should find a hobby and she had—shopping.
“Well, Delia, aren’t you going to come up with an excuse?”
She shook her head.
He laughed and pulled the tie from his neck. “Nothing to say? This is a first.”
“So you’re going to play the quiet mouse game today. You won’t be quiet for long.”
“Why not?” The conversation wasn’t going well. Would he take away her charge
cards, make her stay home every day? The look in his dark brown eyes told her trouble
was on the horizon. Would he leave her for overspending?
He rubbed his face with his hands and sat on the edge of the bed. She wanted to
reach out to him, reassure him she wouldn’t overcharge again. She’d promise, beg, and
plead, whatever it took to keep him in her life. She didn’t want him to leave. She could
handle anything―anything but him leaving. She loved him. Always had and always
“Over my lap,” he said with a ring of finality.
She backed away from the bed. “Excuse me?”
“Delia, I’m not going to say it again. Over my lap, now!”
“Why?” she whispered.
“I’ll show you why.”
Monday, June 21, 2010
Here are two June weddings I've been to. Maybe these couples shouldn't have been swayed by "Wedding Bells" advertisements to marry in June and have waited...or not married at all?
Wedding # 1: I had to travel to FL for this one. A cousin was marrying for the third time. So was his bride-to-be. The wedding would include family and friends...most from his motorcycle group. The bride was cutting corners since the budget must have been close to nothing. She made her own dress...and calling this frock a dress is being polite!
The black and white wedding outfit consisted of a dress (?) that was 1. strapless, 2. low on her breasts so her tattoos showed, 3. had a cut-out in front in an inverted "V" shape from legs to very close to her crotch. She spent the entire day pulling her dress up on top and tugging it down by her crotch. She wore a black belt and black boots.
About five years later, we found out that the wedding had been a sham. The bride's divorce hadn't finalized, so rather than call off the wedding, a friend had posed as the preacher who "married" them. Their friends knew what was going on, but none of the relatives, including the groom's mother and sisters, knew anything about it.
Wedding #2. The bride and groom had lived together for years before taking the plunge. The bride was someone in my family and my first impression of the groom was NOT favorable. Although no one said anything, we all spoke about this later and NO ONE liked him. Arrogant, snobbish, this oaf made fun of the bride's weight and since he was starting a job as an English teacher, decided to correct everyone's grammar...at the rehearsal dinner.
From the bride's side of the family, it was a combination of a BIG Italian wedding and a BIG Jewish wedding...so there was an abundance of everything to the point of overkill. Tons of food and drink.
The bride's family paid to fly the mother and husband to the wedding, and had everyone sleep at the bride's father's home. Something like 10 people to include the groom's family slept in a three-bedroom, one bath home...because they had no money.
We enjoyed seeing all our family again so had a great time. We flew in our 3 daughters and two of their fiances. My husband and I made the three-day trip by car so we could sight-see.
I'm sure there's a romance story there...maybe a wedding planner who handles these weddings and ends up falling in love with the caterer!
Anyone have a June bride story? Hopefully a pleasant one?
Photos: Flickr: Chealion, Pirate Scott, b8b8ng, Roberto Rizzato-pix-jockey-Facebook-resident's photostreams.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Ellora's Cave 2009
Hallie James loves cats—she just never realized she was one herself. Not until she met delicious leopard shifters Gar and Cal, one sinfully dark, one beautifully golden.
A terrifying meeting with a runaway pit bull lands her on her butt on the sidewalk. But when the dog’s owners appear out of nowhere, asking if she’s all right, Hallie has the most shocking reaction to their mouthwatering…scent!
Cat pheromones are powerful, and Gar and
“You all right?” The quiet, deep voice was directly behind her. The unexpectedness of the question finished her. The milk exploded, drenching her in white, and she gave a shriek of shock, falling sideways onto the pitted sidewalk, her paralyzed body going suddenly limp. It felt as if her heart was going to explode like the damn milk! She knew the voice had come from the other side of the tall, wrought iron and stone wall, but the next thing she saw was a man bending over her, reaching out a hand to take her bags from her clenched hands.
What the hell? She blinked up at the man then back along the sidewalk. There was no gate except the one the dog had burst from, and that gate was over a hundred feet or more away. He would have had to climb or vault over the wall, and that, even for an athletic man, would take some doing.
“Sorry about Tigger. He isn’t dangerous but he can be pretty damn scary,” the deep, warm-honey voice murmured as she was relieved of her destroyed bag, then the intact one was lifted from her death grip. “Come on, and I’ll get you some towels.”
Hallie reached for the lean hand dangling in front of her face, and allowed the stranger to drag her up from her ignominious repose on the milk-splattered concrete. She patted herself down for possible injuries before she blinked up at him and rasped incredulously, “You call that…that…thing…Tigger?” Visions of a sweet boingy critter almost made her laugh.
It was then she saw him clearly for the first time, and she almost sat back down on the wet sidewalk again.
Stunning dark gold eyes in a face that dragged her breath away and held it captive, forcing her to fight for air. Odd eyes on a man whose hair was jet black. And after she managed to get past that face, her eyes slid down the long length of a body so utterly mouthwatering, she was sure she’d died and gone to heaven. Because there wasn’t a man alive who could possibly look that frigging good in a ratty T-shirt and torn jeans.
Those gorgeous eyes looked so concerned, she barely managed to restrain her raging libido before she blurted out something completely unsuitable, like a squeal of delight as she tackled him and abused him terribly. She had the insane desire to lick him. Nibble him!
Yeah, he should be worried! Walking around unprotected from random female attackers who would love to get a piece of all that marvelous— Ooooh! Hallie dragged her milk-wet hand out of his and forced a shaky laugh.
“Did my steak survive, or am I gonna have to go back down the hill and catch that bus back to the supermarket?”
Dark brows drew together over those glinting topaz eyes, and his hand shot out to stop her from sagging sideways again. “You probably shouldn’t try to get up yet,” that delicious warm-honey voice said, somewhere just above her left ear.
Why the hell am I sinking again?
“No! I-I’m…fine,” were the last words out of her mouth before he tilted oddly and vanished from her sight. Whoa, she was back on the damn sidewalk again? Oh, there he was, leaning down and reaching to check her pulse. Why the hell was he bending over her again? Mmmm, she would love to reach up and drag his gorgeous body down to her level. And what the hell was he…
“You think she’s sick?” a quiet male voice asked somewhere beyond her line of sight.
“I think she got a good solid whiff of pheromones. She’s totally out of it. Here, you get the bags,” that lovely warm-honey voice murmured, and she was suddenly rising from the sidewalk, floating, and then she was nuzzling into a hard chest and inhaling the delicious, heady scent of the man with the golden eyes. Ooooh, he’s totally edible!
“That’s not normal, is it?” That quiet voice again.
Friday, June 18, 2010
This is my guy, Louie. We lost him last exactly one week ago. Because I'm one of those crazy dog lovers, I went out yesterday and got his name tattooed on my right wrist. Now he can still go everywhere with me.
Beauty and the Feast is still on the bestseller list at Fictionwise. I was so sad to see it had dropped down to 5th today, but it had been hanging in there between number 1 and number 3 for weeks!
My Everything is actually in the top 25 and it just got listed a couple weeks ago.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Tony, we have a situation.
Wow, could you be a bit more specific? I’m a kind of busy at the moment.
Sorry, man. Finish up what you’re doing. I can handle things on this end until you get here.
Are you sure?
Positive. He quickly severed their link.
Jesus Christ, Rick! What the hell is going on?
Tony’s frantic interruption penetrated his lust-fogged brain. He pulled his wrist from Sandy’s lips and quickly healed his puncture wound. With trembling arms and legs, he fumbled off the couch, wobbled back to the chair, dropped his head into his hands and struggled to breathe normally.
Damn, damn, damn…
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
I want to tie you up and tease your pussy.
Maybe she was the one who needed a life. A sex life to be exact.
“I’m looking to…”
Oh fuck, not again. That voice sounded familiar, like the caller.
“This is a business line, buddy. I’m not interested in your offer for sexual pleasure.”
“You heard me, I’m not interested.”
“I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. Are you Ms. Topaz, the interior designer?”
“I am.” She swallowed. She knew she’d screwed up.
“I’m calling about your services.”
“Black. Frank Black.”
Monday, June 14, 2010
National Hug Holiday. I did a blog similar to this a while back...but can you ever get tired of hugs?
Some people never hug...don't like that "close" contact. Others, like me, grew up in a family environment where we hugged all the time...relatives and friends alike.
1. The hello, friendly hug.
A greeting besides just saying "Hello".
Watch sports. Don't teammates sometimes hug each other after a particular good play or win?
The quick call hug. You're at a party/event/whatever. Someone you know enters and you watch as everyone greets this person with a hug. What do you do? You join in and follow the crowd so you don't appear to be "different".
Yeah, I got used to this very quickly as a child. If someone was family, you hugged. No brainer there. Big Italian families are "touchy/feely" people.
5. The comforting hug.
These are for times of sadness and a show of commiserating (I'm here, I understand" support.
6. The love hug.
Go hug someone today...preferably someone like the guys above!
Photos: Flickr: kevindooley, lululemon athletica, rtbookreviews, Corie Howell, ashengrove, Cowboy Ben Alman, snre, SSCusp's photostreams.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
It's been a hard three months...
When my publisher changed me around due to my last editor going back to the "real world" to work, I thought things would go on as before. But I find myself really missing the supportive atmosphere, and the feeling that my prior editors really liked my work. I just can't seem to "connect" with my newest one. Not her fault. It's just me.
I never thought I would admit it, but that is one of the most difficult things I've faced in this business.
It's been a four month drought for me, book wise. I've never gone this long between books, and it looks like it isn't going to end soon. I have not posted to my blogs...I have not bothered to respond to loop posts. It's like I am slowly dying inside. So the only thing to do is pick myself up and slap my face and make myself move forward. Which is why my cheeks are bright red, and I am writing this Saturday post a bit late, but I AM doing it.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Louie, April 23, 2000 - June 10, 2010
See you soon. Julia
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
RED: Known as the Lover's Rose, shades can go from light to deep crimson. What better Valentine's gift than red roses? Maybe with chocolates to add a special "romance" meaning?
YELLOW: Evokes a sense of warmth and friendship. In Victorian times, it symbolized jealousy!
PURPLE: Displays enchantment, and imagination...and love at first sight.
BLUE: Embodies a sense the impossible and of mystery while hoping for an extraordinary chance for the beginning of something new.
Whatever color you choose, you can't go wrong...except with black. No romance there. Just sorrow so stay away from them. Although, I'm sure some paranormal romances will feature these black roses as the choice of shade for dark tales!
Credits: Teleflora, Proflowers, Morrison Gardens, Roses for Life.
Photos: Flickr: D. Sharon Pruitt, Madmoiselle Lavender, The Gifted, Angela M. Michel, BONGURI, dorena-wm, KIUKO, naitokz and ghewqill's photostreams.