Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Tessie Bradford's "Megan's Men" Packs Four Times The Heat

Today’s treat is a mini-review of a book I just finished and absolutely loved—Tessie Bradford’s “Megan’s Men”. Yes I’m biased and Tessie and I are good friends, but I read this book with eyes wide open and enjoyed as if I’d didn’t know what a lovely person Tessie was.

I’ve enjoyed all of Tessie books but Megan’s Men is my favorite to date. Tessie has taken her writer’s voice further and created a rich Sci-fi ménage romance that features three terrific men and one really lucky woman.

Here’s the Blurb:  “Megan’s Men”

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.

I found myself hooked from the first page by Megan’s dilemma. Megan’s in the middle of a major life change. She taken a job on another planetoid sight unseen and risked everything to leave behind a personal life that hasn’t gone so well. She immediately, and naively finds herself in a dangerous situation in a space travel port that she believes is merely an inconvenience. She gets bumped from a legitimate space liner and is reassigned to a shadowy cargo ship that carries more risk than she realizes. Megan doesn’t have enough space-faring experience to ask the right questions and seems to be walking straight into a human trafficking type of ordeal.

Just as things are really going sour she’s almost gets run down in the spaceport as well. Thank god for the quick reflexes and timely intervention of a prince-like Mr. Tall-dark-and-handsome, who steps in and saves Megan from physical harm. Garfor of the House of H’oug is a gorgeous warrior who scoops Megan into his arms and enlightens her about her true situation.

Megan is shocked to discover a respected space liner would throw a lone woman, such as herself under the bus. She’s also unsettled to be experiencing an instant attraction and feelings of lust and trust for a man who appeared out of nowhere. The moment Megan and Garfor touch a mate bond that was meant to be begins to unfold. Garfor doesn’t even try to hide it and Megan is left confused and intrigued by the strength of his presence.

It’s no surprise that Garfor won’t allow Megan to naively board a slave ship. He takes charge of Megan and her luggage and leads her aboard his luxurious space ship along with a little white lie. Megan thinks she’s getting express service to her destination, but Garfor has a few surprises in store. Megan isn’t going straight to the planetoid she has accepted a job on. She headed to Garfor’s home plant as his bonded mate and guess what else? Garfor is a Slaterine man and Slanterine men mate in quads—three committed men and one lucky woman. Megan boards Garfor’s ship and meets two other gorgeous men Rork and Loban, who are surprised and delighted Garfor has brought a life mate home for them all to share…

Now do I have your attention? This is a very hot book! For your comfort and safety do not read Megan’s Men while seated on combustible materials or near an open flame. Rork and Loban are just as interesting as Garfor and have distinct personalities and conflicts of their about concealing facts from Megan. They had my sympathy too. My god these poor guys have a lot at stake and they only have a brief window of time to convince Megan of the glory that is polyamory.  If you love romance this is a yummy romance. If like ménage this is really hot. If you love a happy ending here’s a very ending for, four deserving people. If you’ve always dreamed of having a big family… never mind I won’t spoil it for you.

I highly recommend Tessie Bradford’s “Megan’s Men” available July 31st from Resplendence Press.


Taking a Break

I’ve missed so many blog posts I can’t count. Today I’m hanging up my hat and admitting I’m done blogging for a bit. I’m going to take time away from my writing career.
My real life has been intense and I’ve been interviewing for a new job. There are a lot of changes going on in my life. Writing has taken the back burner. I have no desire to write at this time. I’ll be around to support my fellow Seven Sexy Scribes and occasionally you’ll find me on the loops.
I’m always on Facebook and sometimes twitter.

Thanks so much for all the support you’ve given me over the years. It has meant everything to me. It’s not good-bye; just I’ll see you soon. :o)

Monday, July 29, 2013

Nibble my newest, HIS DELECTABLE COOK about a saucy little cook in a new lord's household!

She cooks...for three men!
            I am so delighted to debut my latest Regency, HIS DELECTABLE COOK. (Yes, I got the date wrong earlier in the month! Oh, boy, headtodesk.)
            Don't you think this is wonderful? Lickable? Tempting?
            The story stars a young woman who answers an advert for a position as cook to the new earl.
            Does she know he is such a rogue?
            Does she anticipate that he likes to share his women with his staff and his younger brothers?
            Might our little cook relish the very idea?

            You must come and learn.
            OUT NOW and in the anthology, AT YOUR SERVICE, for !
Need a nibble?
Of course you do!
Copyright, Cerise DeLand 2013.

     "Bess Deveraux stood before her new employer, prim as a blushing bride, which she most definitely was not, and proud as the virago she wished to become. And all because the man she faced was precisely the type of master she had yearned for since she first discovered the joys her body could give her six long years ago. He embodied all the essential qualities she desired in a lord and master: He was handsome, self-possessed, filthy rich and scandal-ridden. At the moment, he was also astonished at her appearance before him. The tick in his left cheek told that tale.
     “Mrs O’Brien assures me you are qualified for my household.” Lord Taryn Wentworth sat, loose-boned, maddeningly louche, in a large leather chair examining her from across his sun-dappled library.
Betty flushed with pride at her accomplishment to jump the gauntlet of the acerbic housekeeper and appear before him as the woman’s choice for the cook’s position. The servant had riddled her with questions for hours about her previous experience and her employers.
   “She informs me you are experienced with supper parties and balls.” One long well-muscled leg across the other, Wentworth pursed his full lips together as his searing sapphire eyes assessed her chin, her throat and her bosom in the cook’s shapeless white attire.
   At his gravelly base voice, Betty refrained from shifting on her feet as her nipples peaked high and hard against the rough cotton of her new uniform. She was so right not to have donned a corset this morning. Nor worn any pantalets. After all, she had taken this position to be free of all social restraints.
   “Betty!” Mrs. O’Brien chastised her to respond to the man who had recently inherited this Mayfair house, an older pile in Dorset, an earldom and twenty thousand a year income. “Do answer his lordship.”
   Betty locked eyes with him, the rogue. “I was not aware it was a question.”
   “Careful, girl,” O’Brien growled.
   Betty caught his lordship fighting a smile. “Yes, of course. Pardon me, Went— “ No, not so familiar, Bess!“Sorry, my lord. I am very accomplished at preparing party menus. Game, beef, puddings.”
   “Red snapper?”
   Betty suppressed a chuckle at his lewd reference. How like the scoundrel to try to make her laugh. “I have it on good authority that my fish is superbly prepared. Always in a savoury sauce.”
   He rubbed his lower lip with the tip of one index finger. “How are your sweet things?”
   When properly prepared? “They melt in your mouth.”
   “Tempting,” he conceded with a tour of her body from generous breasts to tiny waist and the length of her legs. She had heard his eyes could scald and titillate. Her cunny swelled with the proof. “And what of your cakes? Do you work with chocolate?”
   “I can bake one for you, my lord.”
    Irritable and commanding this morning, are we, my lord Wentworth? Hmm. “Of course. Marzipan. Vanilla glaze. Whatever you—“
   “What do you do with strawberries? Peaches?”
   The devil. Her nipples pebbled like strawberries. Eager to have those luscious lips of his sucking them. And her peaches? She squeezed her pussy walls together. Yes. Her peaches were plump and ready to be bitten into. “Such delicacies, I offer ripe and sugared with—”
   “Ices?” he cut her off with a narrowing of his sparkling eyes and a shift in his chair.
   Uncomfortable, my lord?  This is your fault, you realize. You did ask. “Yes. Sculptured, my lord. Swans, birds and—“
   “I see,” he said though what he was looking at was her nipples peaking against the muslin uniform.    “Where did you learn to carve ice?”
   “In the house where I grew up, my dearest friend was the cook.”
   His cool façade fell from his face at hearing this tidbit. “Was your friend, the sculptress, also expert with her dishes?”
   “A fine chef, my lord. My father became enchanted with her finesse and claimed no one could make a soufflé that compared. I learned much from her.”
   “Such as?”
   Ah. You taunt me at your own risk, Wentworth. “She declared if one fed a man what he loved, he would return, hungry forevermore.”
   “Astute of her.” He, over the shock of gazing at her heart-shaped face and limpid eyes, grew more relaxed. Even jovial.
   “True, my lord.” Betty rocked back on her heels, bolder now that she had him in conversation. “She was most particular instructing me on how to prepare any organ from a large animal, most especially his brain.”
   He arched a brow at her. “For example, what?”
   “How to tenderize a big piece of meat.” She used her hands illustrating her passion to pull and draw on one specific part of a male animal.
   O’Brien cleared her throat.
   Betty clasped her hands behind her back, rising on her toes and thrusting out her heavy breasts. “I roast a succulent duck, as well. Do you like duck, my lord?”
   “I appreciate all things succulent, Betty.” He flashed a smile at her, a rueful twitch of that libertine’s mouth. One Bess had to trace and taste very soon. “Leave us, Mrs. O’Brien.”
   “My lord, I depart here in the morning for the house in Dorset as you requested,” the housekeeper bit off her words, miffed at her dismissal from this interview, “but I have not yet discussed the menu with her for tomorrow evening and with a new butler and footman—“
   “I will tell her what to serve.” Wentworth waved the woman toward the door, though his gaze locked on Betty’s. “She will inform you after I am done with her. You may go to your duties, Mrs. O’Brien.” 

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Facebook is driving me bonkers...

Maybe it's because I swipe hot guy photos?

Not sure why, but for the past three days, every time I go into my Fran Lee FB pages, it locks completely up and won't let me even click on anything.  Anybody had that happen to them while on FB? How did you get it fixed? I can't even click on "help" on FB, so I can't get them to run any kind of check on the pages to see why it locks up.

I know it isn't my computer. Something on FB does it when I log in under my own Fran Lee name.  I can get into FB under all the other FB identities I possess...but not under Fran Lee.  I wonder what I did wrong?

Fran Lee

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Happy Thursday

We here in southeastern Michigan have been experiencing a very interesting summer weather-wise. On more than one occasion, the temperatures have fluctuated nearly thirty degrees in a twenty-four hour period. We’ve had an excessive amount of rain, humidity worthy of the Columbian rainforest and storms boasting gale force winds and hail. I'm so over being without power I could spit! Do I need to tell you that when we lose it, it's on the 95 degree days, not the 70 degree ones. I've thrown away more food than I care to think about. One of the power surges blew out my oven (thank God hubby grills). I'm to a point now where after I've been out of the house for any length of time, I up a silent prayer before I open my front door.
Two weeks ago, I attended the opening party for Off The Beaten Path, a small bookstore in picturesque downtown Farmington. Cindy Spencer Pape was the special guest. Steampunk was the theme and it was fun to see all the costumes. Cindy and I had the same editor when I started out at Ellora's Cave and she invited me to participate in the Carnal Reunions anthology, thusly starting my career with Resplendence Publishing. She's a sweatheart and it was great to see her again after almost three years. I highly recommend her books!
On July 31st, my fifteenth book, Megan's Men, releases! That's so surreal to me.
Have a spectacular weekend~


Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Busy Week!

This summer is going way too fast! I love being busy but sometimes it's hard to stop and enjoy what's going on.

The Emerald Isles Fantasies series is getting great word of mouth with more exciting books on the way. I couldn't be more pleased with this series. All the other authors brought their very best to Emerald Isle Fantasies.

This week I just finished edits on my next Ellora's Cave book, "Fairy In The Flesh". I loved writing this book and I hope readers will enjoy one of my favorite fantasies of going back in time to France of 1903 and meeting a mysterious and passionate artist.

Earlier this week I wrote two book proposals to a new press and had both accepted. One is a very sexy Sci-fi and the other is pure paranormal fun with a lot of humor about a complicated blind date between a temperamental witch and an unwilling Lycan. I'm super excited about both projects and already have them started.

Next week I'll post a min-review of Tessie Bradford's latest and quite possibly greatest book "Megan's Men"(It's fantastic!)

Have a wonderful week. BTW Hugh Jackman's "Wolverine" Opens July 26th.... just say'n.

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Lord Griffin's Prize and Excerpt

Lord Griffin’s Prize
Katalina Leon

Part of the Emerald Isles Fantasies series
Tullamore Castle Ireland is an enchanted place where the unexpected happens. Phantom lovers materialize in haunted beds and a lonely griffin patrols the ramparts waiting to reclaim its mate. And that’s just the beginning.

For the adventure of a lifetime Maeve de’Burgo visits Tullamore to study genealogy. Through a magical act and time travel she becomes embroiled in a dangerous medieval romance and the unfinished life of her ancestor. Maeve gets thrown back in time to be captured, ravished and cherished as a war chief’s prize.

Ronan O’Griofa is a griffin-shifter, the most loyal of creatures. He’s been trapped in limbo as the avenging guardian of Tullamore since 1332 AD and longs to be free. When the soul of his wife returns to the castle he’s granted the privilege of becoming a man for one day to be her lover, win her heart and remind Maeve of a bond strong enough to last an eternity.

Here's an excerpt: Maeve's arrival at Castle Tullamore.
Lord Griffin’s Prize
Katalina Leon
Chapter one

Maeve placed a gloved hand on the golden door handle of the Tullamore Castle Hotel and pushed. The glass door resisted against the vacuum of a blustery gust. The short but stormy walk from the cab to the curb had left rain sheeting from her umbrella and tall black boots.
She bore down, gave the door a firm shove and watched in awe as it swung open onto a timeless realm entrenched in equal parts modern luxury and dour medieval grit. Above the entrance a time-ravaged, iron-studded medieval shield bearing the image of a griffin held a place of honor between two Victorian-era crystal sconces, punctuating the contrast of a far-reaching past.
Maeve was too tired to care that she was tracking water across the patterned carpet as she ambled into the elegant front lobby dragging a lopsided piece of rolling luggage. For the past twenty-four hours she’d roamed airports, engaged in endless desperate bargaining with airline personnel to exchange tickets, hunted down cabs and texted anyone she could reach to tell them that her international flights and all her arrangements on the ground had been disrupted by turbulent weather.
The challenging journey from the US to Ireland had left her weary to the bone. Everything that could go wrong had. As she approached the front desk there was little wonder in her mind why the word “travel” had its roots in the original travail, which literally meant torture.
An attentive middle-aged woman, with red hair swept away from her stark face, stepped from behind the carved baroque counter to greet her. “You must be Maeve Clark. We received your message. I’m so sorry you’ve had such a difficult time getting here.” The woman reached for Maeve’s luggage. “Let’s get you signed in so you can rest.”
The woman glanced out the front entrance as the cab that had brought Maeve turned and drove away in the pouring rain. “I don’t see anyone else out there. Is Mr. Clark with you?”
“What time is it?” Maeve fought the impulse to rub her eyes with the heels of her hands and grind what little mascara still clung to her lashes onto her cheeks.
The woman smoothed the lapels of her prim navy suit. “It’s 1:11 a.m.”
“Oh god. I’m so disoriented I thought it was earlier. By the way, I’m no longer Maeve Clark. I made the reservations last year before I divorced. Didn’t I update you on the name change?”
The woman’s gaze lingered on the prominent wedding ring on Maeve’s left hand. “No name change was mentioned, but we have a beautiful room waiting and we’re pleased to have you visit with us, Miss...?”
“Maeve dé Burgo.”
The woman looked elated. “You’re a dé Burgo? Of course, now it all makes sense! Oh this is wonderful, and so appropriate. I’m certain you are aware that the ancestral founder of Tullamore Castle was Lord dé Burgo?” The woman clasped Maeve’s hand. “My name is Áine Byrne. I’m the current owner of Tullamore Castle and if I’m not mistaken, you and I are distant relations.”
“You’re the castle owner? I’m so happy to meet you, Miss Byrne.”
“Call me Áine. I’m simply thrilled to have a dé Burgo under our eaves again!”
Maeve was dumbfounded by the woman’s intense enthusiasm for her maiden name. “I’m surprised to see you working the front desk at this hour.”
“I’m a hands-on owner and a notorious insomniac. Night is when interesting things happen at Tullamore. I like seeing everything and everyone who comes through the front entrance. Hospitality is my business and I enjoy being hospitable.”
“Thank you, Áine.” Maeve was barely able to manage a smile in her exhausted state. “From the outside, the castle is so dramatic, very picturesque. I’m certainly looking forward to seeing my room.”
“Of course you are.” Áine took Maeve’s hint and hurried behind the counter to retrieve a massive leather-bound ledger with vellum pages. “Because you are a dé Burgo would you please sign the historic guest ledger?” She handed Maeve an old- fashioned feather quill and a bottle of ink.
Maeve sighed as she accepted the quill and ink. Despite her interest in all things historical, she had no experience writing with a quill and hoped she wouldn’t make a mess of Áine’s lovely old ledger with an inevitable clumsy ink splosh on the creamy page.
Áine seemed to read Maeve’s mind. “It’s not difficult. Simply dip, swipe the quill on the rim of the bottle and write far more slowly than you think you should.”
Maeve dipped the quill and sketched her name across the velum with shaky, scratchy strokes that required several dunks into the ink.
“Lovely.” Áine gazed at Maeve’s signature and set the ledger aside to dry. “By the way, the room you requested is not available. We had a slight accident with some workmen the other day and the room you reserved will require refurbishment.”
Maeve groaned in disappointment. “The cheerful little yellow room overlooking the rose garden isn’t available?”
“No.” Áine glanced at Maeve sideways. “We’re putting you in the O’Griofa suite tonight. It’s our finest room.”
Maeve gasped. She’d visited Castle Tullamore’s website many times and knew the O’Griofa suite was a sprawling set of adjoining rooms stuffed with priceless antiques and no doubt far beyond her budget.
“It’s all right.” Áine raised a preemptive palm into the air. “You will not be charged suite rates. The mistake was on our side and you shall be the one to benefit.”
Maeve exhaled. “Thank you.” A nearly forgotten thought surfaced. “Some months ago I contacted a Professor Burke to meet me here at the castle and help me to gather information about my family’s genealogy. I forgot to email him and tell him my flight was delayed. Has the professor contacted you?”
“Yes, I spoke with Professor Burke at some length and now that I know you’re a dé Burgo your research project makes perfect sense. The dé Burgos have shared a stunning history with Castle Tullamore. Your family has been here since the beginning.”
“I’ve been told I was named for a great ancestor of mine, Lady Maeve dé Burgo. I’m looking forward to learning more about her.”
Áine did not appear to be the least bit surprised by this bit of information. “There’s been a mild setback. I am sorry to say Professor Burke isn’t coming. He called yesterday to cancel your appointment. He must attend to emergency business in France and will not return for a fortnight. He apologized profusely for the sudden change of plans.”
“The professor’s not coming?” The energy drained from her. “I’m so disappointed. That was the core purpose of my trip to Tullamore.”
“Don’t despair.” Áine lifted her chin. “Another professor has volunteered to take his place.”
“Ironically it’s a Professor O’Griofa. He too claims a strong ancestral connection to Tullamore and has enjoyed a long association with the castle. Isn’t that an interesting coincidence?” Áine’s gaze sharpened. “Professor O’Griofa is considered the premier expert on Castle Tullamore, so it goes to show that tiny setbacks and substitutions can often be wonderful boons. I’m sure the change was for the best. Tullamore’s just that kind of place. One must expect the unexpected.” She reached for a brass skeleton key dangling from a hook. “We use an old-fashioned key for the O’Griofa suite. Come with me and I’ll show you to your room.”
Maeve followed Áine down a long corridor lined with gilt-framed oil portraits of the castle’s many occupants. They passed a staircase and approached an antiquated- looking iron-cage elevator.
“We’re going to take the lift.” Áine took hold of the iron filigree door and struggled to wrench it open. “This door can be so stubborn.” She gave the base of the door a brisk kick with the heel of her shoe until it opened. “Ah, there we go. You’re not claustrophobic or easily startled by screeching metallic sounds, are you?”
“No.” Maeve gazed longingly toward the staircase.
“Don’t worry, the lift is in excellent working condition. It’s just odd.”
Maeve lingered at the threshold. “How is it odd?”
“It’s haunted and there are a few other peculiarities.” “Like what? I would think haunted is peculiar enough.”
“Oh there’s much more.” Áine stepped into the lift, pulling the rolling luggage with her, and motioned for Maeve to follow. “Get in and I’ll tell you about its many eccentricities.”
Maeve felt her face blanch as she stepped inside the unsound-looking lift.
Áine slid the rattling door shut and pressed a button. The lift lurched with a grating noise and rose to the thumping whir of unseen gears and pulleys.
Maeve gulped a nervous breath. “I’ve never been in a lift like this.”
“You certainly haven’t!” Áine grinned with pride. “It’s one of a kind. I’ve had guests swear the lift delivered them into another time and place. Can you imagine that? A few bold souls have even claimed to encounter entities haunting the lift that encouraged them to engage in...” She hesitated. “How should I say this? Amorous behavior. Their actions were quite spontaneous and uninhibited, but I strongly suspect they didn’t do anything they didn’t already want to do.”
“Oh my.” Maeve laughed. “And they blamed the lift?”
The lift screeched to a jolting halt. Áine drew the door open. “We’re here.” She motioned for Maeve to exit. “The O’Griofa suite is at the end of the corridor.”
(Just wait until Maeve sees the handsome portrait of Lord O’Griofa. She’s in for trouble…)
Lord Griffin’s Prize is part of the Emerald Isle Fantasies book series and is available now from Ellora’s Cave. Be sure to check out the entire Emerald Isle Fantasies books series. It includes lots of talented Ellora’s Cave authors and loads of steamy, Irish enchantment. You can’t go wrong!
Jennifer LaRose “Phantom Mischief”
Rebecca Royce “Crimson Lust”
Dena Garson “Ghostly Persuasion”
And much more to come…
Ellora’s Cave:
Rebecca Royces "Crimson Lust" is available today from Ellora's Cave!