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.
   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.
Regency Romp series
which begins with
followed by
and within a few weeks, the third in series~

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 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...


Friday, June 26, 2015

Afton Locke's "Rebel's Claw" Black Hills Wolves Book 22

Rebel’s Claw - Love Bites

Love Bites
While Rebel’s Claw, my second Black Hills Wolves story, went through edits, it turned out I’d left out something important. The mating bond. We’re talking teeth and biting here. It seems werewolves aren’t so different from vampires. It was easy to write in. My hero was, er, behind my heroine, and he was in a very take-charge mood. He was nice enough to warn her ahead of time, though. Assuming oral hygiene is good, teeth on the neck can be very sexy. Especially if they hit certain sensitive spots. Some people have canines that are a little longer than the other teeth. Now that’ s sexy. I’m going to imagine that for a while…

Rebel’s Claw by Afton Locke
Revenge never tasted sweeter
Release Date: 26 June 2015
Publisher: Decadent Publishing

Roark Archer’s Lamar Canyon Pack in Yellowstone has been decimated by ranchers and hunters. Although the Tao pack in Los Lobos, South Dakota, has offered to assimilate it, he cannot give up his heritage so easily. At least not until he gets revenge against whoever killed his best friend, Jared, three years ago.

Recluse Carrie Myers lives on the Wyoming cattle ranch her late father left her. One fateful night changes her life forever, leaving her questioning her sanity. She knows what she saw…or does she? Regardless, she’ll do anything to protect the awful secret that has haunted her for the past three years.

When fate brings Roark to Carrie’s doorstep, the connection between them is undeniable. Determined to avoid commitment, they agree to give in to their unexplainable attraction for one night. Will hatred consume this hell-raising shifter, or can he learn love and forgiveness in the enemy’s arms?

Excerpt (explicit)
Rebel’s Claw - Copyright © Afton Locke, 2015

When his fingers tangled on the waistband of her panties, her legs trembled and her cleft burned with need. For the first time, she wished she owned lacy, feminine lingerie instead of boring, practical underwear.

“These are so sexy,” he whispered as if reading her mind. “So perfect on you.”

She gasped when his finger dipped under the white fabric, probing and swirling over swollen flesh. Her head thrashed on the pillow. Surely, she didn’t deserve such pleasure. With each caress, he promised even more. Completely disconnected from reality, she hovered over an abyss.

Don’t let me go.

She craved him every night, to make her forget everything causing her pain. With an instinct of their own, her hips danced as sinuously as a snake’s. His finger slipped inside, thrusting deep. If her pleasure was electricity, he’d light her up for miles.

He grabbed her hand and pressed it to the rock-hard bulge in his jeans. She shied away when he unzipped himself, but he pressed his bare cock into her palm. Lord, she’d never felt anything so hot. So alive. A trail of juice seeped from her core.

“Are you still sure you want to do this?” he whispered in her ear.

Their chests bucked and swelled against each other from their hard breathing. She felt as if she’d run the length of the ranch a hundred times.

“Y-yes, Roark.”

“Then grab my wallet off the nightstand since you’re closer to it.”

Her body tensed. He didn’t plan to pay her like a prostitute, did he? Daddy definitely wouldn’t approve. He wouldn’t look kindly on a one-night stand, either.

“There’s a condom in it,” he added.

When she twisted away from his hot skin, the contrast of the cool air caused her to shiver. Clumsier than ever, she dropped the wallet on the bed. It opened, revealing several pictures in plastic sleeves. She couldn’t resist flipping through them. Did he have a girlfriend? Hopefully not a wife. Hopping cow patties. She hadn’t even thought to ask about that.

Too late to back out now.

The people were all ages and shared a similar look to him, so she assumed they were family. She could hardly concentrate, with him stroking her back and grinding his wonderful hardness against her buttocks.

“You’re taking too damn long,” he muttered against her hair. “I’m about to take you, condom or not.”

“H-hold on a second,” she replied.

When she spotted the last picture, the heat in her body turned to ice. She blinked, hoping she’d seen it wrong, but the image only became clearer. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she stared at the face of a reddish-haired man with a beard. Nausea twisted her gut while a lone coyote howled in the distance. The remembered sensation of mud and blisters floated across her hands….

Oh, dear Lord. It was him! The face of the creature she’d killed.

Coming Soon

Deeper Than Perfect - 1970s time-travel

Author Bio

Afton Locke is a USA Today Bestselling Author who prefers romantic fantasies to everyday reality. Fantasies take her to different times, races, places, and beyond. She lives with her husband, dog, several unnamed dust bunnies, and a black cat that can be scary or cuddly, depending on the current book. When she’s not writing, Afton enjoys hiking, cooking, crafts, and reading.

Where readers can find me

#AlphaInDisguise #BlackHillsWolves #EroticRomance #hotwerewolf #ParanormalRomance #shifters

Thursday, June 25, 2015

Up For Some Alien Exploration?

Two gorgeous Argon males devoted to you in every way imaginable~
Yes please!!

Copyright © TESSIE BRADFORD, 2009 All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“Do not worry, Elizabeth, it is only me,” Gareth said soothingly. Hagan nodded approval as Gareth gently guided Elizabeth’s head to rest back on his shoulder. “Allow yourself to enjoy. Allow yourself to experience all that is flowing through you.” Gareth’s tone was hypnotic and Hagan knew from experience how his delicate touch could enflame and arouse. He watched with renewed desire as Gareth’s long fingers brushed over Elizabeth’s rib cage to come to rest under her heavy breasts.
As Gareth fondled and caressed Elizabeth’s upper body, Hagan caressed her hips and thighs. When Elizabeth guided Gareth’s hands up to her nipples, covering his fingers with her own, pinching and playing with the pebbled buds, Hagan groaned in appreciation of the sight. “By the gods,” Hagan exclaimed, running a finger along Elizabeth’s fully exposed outer pussy lips. “You are a gift we will treasure, Elizabeth.” He watched with wonder as she worked her creamy white hands in rhythm with Gareth’s, pulling and tweaking her nipples to hard attention. Hagan gathered some of her warm honey, swirling it around her clit slowly. Elizabeth raised her head and watched him through heavy lids. She moved her hips in silent invitation for more.
“Show me how to touch you, little one. Show me how you bring yourself fulfillment.”
“Again you order me,” she sighed.
“Ah, that is not so. I am asking you to teach me about your glorious body. It is of the utmost importance to me to learn all there is to know about how to bring you ultimate pleasure.”

Have a wonderful weekend!
Facebook: tessie.bradford.1

Friday, June 19, 2015

More Black Hills Wolves! TL Reeve's Omega's Heart

Omega’s Heart Media Kit

When the wolf is away…
Five years ago, Max Reaper walked out of Kole Silver’s life forever, leaving behind a broken omega.
Kole doesn’t believe in love anymore. He keeps to himself, leading a solitary life until stumbling upon an injured human, Jasper Hill. An instant attraction explodes between them, becoming an unbreakable bond. There is no choice—Kole must claim the man as his own.
When Max returns to take possession of what is rightfully his, a situation he’d never imagined greets him. Angry with himself and with his mate’s betrayal, he wrestles his wolf who demands he take action—to claim his mate. But will he be able to accept Kole’s new human companion, or will his mistake of leaving five years ago end up biting him in the ass?

“Good morning,” Kole’s voice had him opening his eyes. The guy wore a pair of low slung jeans and a ribbed tank. In his hands sat a tray piled with food. Jasper’s stomach gave an appreciative growl and he laughed. “Well, I’m glad you’re awake and hungry. I made more, so you know.”
“Wow, thanks.” The bacon and sausage sat together on one side while scrambled eggs and hash browns filled the rest of the plate. “Do you have any coffee?”
“I do,” Kole grinned. “How do you take it?”
“Black and strong,” he said around a bite of bacon. “Oh God,” he moaned. “Deer bacon?”
“Is that a problem?”
“Hell no,” Jasper answered, finishing off the piece in his fingers. “I haven’t had deer bacon in years. I missed it. What’s the sausage?”
“Wild boar,” Kole replied. “I like to live off the land.”
“Fucking hell,” he groaned. “I think I’m in love.”
“Well, it’s good to know what they say is true,” Kole answered. “Give me a moment and I’ll be right back.” He left the room and returned minutes later with a mug of delicious smelling coffee. After handing Jasper the cup, he returned to his perch on the bed.
Jasper inhaled the piping hot brew and grinned. “Thank you.” He took a sip and sighed. The caffeine surged through him and mixed with the sugar of the juice, perking him right up. Taking another swallow, he prodded Kole. “As you were saying?” He continued to eat, gorging himself on the bacon and sausage between bites of potato and eggs.
“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Buy Links:

Author Bio:
TL Reeve, a multi-published author with Decadent Publishing, Cobblestone Press, Evernight Publishing and Loose-Id, was born out of a love of family and a bond that became unbreakable. Living in the south, TL misses Los Angeles and will one day return to the beaches of Southern California to ride the waves at Huntington Beach. When not writing something hot and sexy, TL can be found curled up with a good book, or working on homework with a cute little pixie.