Saturday, December 5, 2015

A Christmas Giveaway in Honor of Fran Lee

As our friends at Seven Sexy Scribes already know, we have lost our dear friend and talented author, Fran Lee. Saturday was Fran's day to blog on 7SS. Christmas was her favorite holiday and she loved to share the spirit of the season. Every year she was generous and played Santa by giving away countless ebooks at Christmas.

So, in honor of Fran, I'm giving away ebooks too. Leave me a comment below or email me at and tell me, which ebook of mine you would like. This offer will be good all week.

May all your winter holidays be peaceful and lovely this year!

Thursday, November 26, 2015

Happy Thanksgiving

Wishing everyone a peaceful and love-filled Thanksgiving!


Friday, November 6, 2015

Afton Locke, Deeper Than Perfect

Deeper Than Perfect - Do You Remember the 70s?

In my latest release, Deeper Than Perfect, Desiree the heroine goes back in time to 1974. I was a child at the time, but now that things have changed so much, I miss those simple days. The arts, like music and writing, were highly valued because there wasn’t so much competition for people’s time. I feel lost when people talk about the latest TV shows because I’m usually watching 70s stuff on Netflix instead.

We lived near an ocean resort, and I remember people dressing up and having a great time. The air was thick with sensuality and romance. I wish I could go back in time as an adult so I could see it from that perspective too. So what do you remember about the 70s?

Deeper Than Perfect by Afton Locke
Get your funk on!
Release Date: 7 November 2015
Stay tuned for reviews and more:
Watch the Book Trailer:

Desi Warner is ready to end her life after an accident disfigures her face and destroys her modeling career. Instead, she goes back in time to 1974 to meet her destiny—R&B superstar Bernie Benson. Although her scars vanish, she and Bernie only have one month before a car accident will supposedly claim their lives.

The enigmatic singer ignites her senses, but her restored beauty is an illusion she can’t trust. Abandoned by his mother in childhood, Bernie has his own trust issues. Obsessed with completing his album, he’s just as hooked on his perfect singing career as Desi is to modeling.

Although they open each other’s eyes to different paths, change is not easy. When the fated day of the crash arrives, they must choose between life and perfection. A love that is deeper than perfect may be their only key to survival.

Deeper Than Perfect - Copyright © Afton Locke, 2015

Sweat broke out across her chest. “I believe I resemble one of his girlfriends a little.”

“More than a little,” he argued. “And Desi wasn’t any old girlfriend. She was the love of his life. His soul mate.”

“Really?” The ground seemed to shift under her feet. She felt more haunted the longer she stayed here. Part of her longed to hear the complete story of Bernie’s love affair and the other part was too terrified to listen.

Calvin wiped his forehead. “They were only together a month, but they were joined tighter than Siamese twins. They even died together. Can’t get more romantic than that.”

She’d read about the deadly car crash—another odd coincidence to add to the mounting list. Hers hadn’t been deadly, but sometimes she wished it had.

“You look as pretty as she did.” He tweaked the edge of her scarf. “You shouldn’t hide your face. No wonder you’re overheated.”

She gripped his fingers, but she was too late. His pleasant features recoiled in the usual horror, which hit her harder than a slap to the face.

“My God.” He clapped his hand over his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. I mean—”

She yanked the scarf back into place. “It’s all right.”

He stared at his feet. “W-well, the bus leaves in fifteen minutes.”

Desiree’s eyes stung with tears. She’d been a total idiot to travel here, believing she could escape her nightmare. For some reason, the burden weighed especially heavy in this place, and wearing a scarf in the heat was the least of it.

Most of the tour group had already boarded the bus. She stared at the left corner post of the porch, realizing this was her last opportunity to touch it.

Might as well get it over with.

Would her clothes travel with her through time? What about her purse? Roxanne should have given her an instruction manual. Just in case, she shoved her driver’s license, money, and smart phone into her pockets. They’d probably be useless in Bernie’s era, but because she was so used to having them, they gave her a strange sense of security.

Drawing a shaky breath, she pressed her left hand against the wrought iron, so warm from the sun it almost burned her. Her fingers gravitated toward the openings in the metal.

It was a good thing she held onto something because the green, tropical surroundings spun around her, faster and faster. Bands of nausea tightened, squeezing her forehead and her belly. What was going on?

“Help me,” she whispered, too weak to talk.

Was the metal poisonous? What had that crazy psychic gotten her into? Finally, her hand slipped free of the post and she crumpled to the ground.

“Are you okay, miss?”

She recognized that voice. Desiree rubbed her forehead and rose with the man’s assistance.

“Thanks, C-Calvin.”

Returning to help her was nice of him, but when had he changed into a bright-orange shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest? And why did he appear so young? His hair was all black, and his face was wrinkle-free.

She brushed the loose grass off her white shorts and flowered, sleeveless blouse. Her purse must have been flung off during her fall because it was nowhere in sight. Her shorts pockets, however, rustled with everything she’d shoved into them.

Had she passed out for a while after her fall? She’d touched the post in mid-afternoon. Now, it was evening. Funky soul music pulsed through the air. Some kind of party was in progress, but she didn’t recognize anyone from the tour group.

Each guest wore clothes from the seventies. Not to mention the hair. She’d never seen so many Afros except on classic TV shows. Was this a reenactment? If the party was part of the tour, why had everyone headed back to the bus earlier?

“Did Bernie invite you?” Calvin asked her.

How could he when he was dead? “I-I don’t know.”

“If not, I’m sure he’ll want to meet you.” He looked her up and down with an appreciative smile.

Wait a minute. Why didn’t he recoil in horror as he had before?

He pointed to a table under a palm tree. “Help yourself to the punch and refreshments over there.”

Desiree took a huge breath, relieved when the man left. She needed some time alone to figure out the situation. By habit, her left hand drifted to her cheek to smooth her scarf and ensure it lay in place. With so many people around, she wanted to make sure her scars stayed completely hidden.

The scarf was gone! She searched the ground around her but found no trace of it. How could she lose something so important? She slapped her palm over her cheek. Why did her skin feel so smooth?

Needing to see her face, she walked to the refreshment table and stared into the punchbowl. The candles didn’t provide much light, but from what she saw reflected in the ruby-red liquid, those wretched scars were gone.

She was healed! The psychic knew her stuff after all. In the mood to celebrate, she poured herself a cup of punch. Now, she could return home and resuscitate her modeling career.

A male laugh distracted her from her celebratory mood. The sound resonated with the enticing rasp she’d heard in so many songs. In slow motion, she turned her head.

Bernie Benson stood with a group of other men, laughing and joking. Plenty of attractive women buzzed around him, too. Desiree stared in disbelief at the lithe, athletic frame and kissable caramel-colored skin of her dreams. He wore bell bottom jeans, and the matching vest with no shirt showed off the muscular definition in his arms.

Wow! This tour was worth a lot more than she’d paid. Where in the world had they found someone who looked and sounded like the late singer?

“That concert was far out,” one guy told him.

“The ladies sure dug it,” Calvin added. “You were the best ever, brother.”

After some jovial high fives, Bernie’s dark eyes glanced in her direction and locked onto her. She ducked her head, piled some chips on a plate to busy herself, and took a big swallow of the strongly spiked punch.

This was too bizarre. The good-looking man couldn’t be him. Maybe he was one of his relatives. She sensed his approach, and the cells in her body went on full alert. When a firm grip encircled her arm, she couldn’t suppress a gasp.

“You’re crashing my party.”

Turning, she faced the man who’d spoken to her. His hair, a bushy lion’s mane of indistinct spikes, cast exotic shadows on the candlelit table. Heat raced through her, melting everything in its path.

Seeing him so close dissolved all her doubts. He was Bernie. Time slowed to a crawl as she explored the planes of his lean face with her eyes. The tiny scar through his eyebrow…. His expression…. His voice…. Nobody could possibly duplicate all those things.

One of the stories she’d read on the Internet leaped to mind. Bernie had met Desi at a party after one of his concerts in May of 1974. Apparently, he’d jokingly accused her of crashing it. According to rumor, their passionate love affair began that night.

Or tonight? My God. Am I Desi?

“What year is this?” she blurted out.

“It’s 1974.” He eyed her cup of punch with suspicion. “Maybe you should go easy on that. It’s strong.”

So are my emotions. Not to mention my hormones.

“Is it really you, Bernie?” she whispered.

“In the flesh.”

Coming Soon

Cali’s Hurricane (Oyster Harbor Series Book 4) - interracial historical romance

Where readers can find me

#timetravelromance, #BestSellingAuthor, #EroticRomance, #musicianhero, #interracialromance, #swirllove, #wwbm

Friday, October 30, 2015

Fran Lee Has Passed

Fran Lee RIP
A friend and wonderful author has passed away.
Fran, you were one of my very first friends in this business. You were kind and generous and invited me into many shared projects like our Seven Sexy Scribes Blog. I'm going to miss you!
She's with her daughter now. 

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Scorpio, Dark Sky, Drops Today!

Scorpio, Dark Sky
Tempting Signs
Katalina Leon

Blurb: Scorpio—Dark Sky, part of the Temping Signs series.

Avery VaylĂ©, has always had a crush on her big brother’s best friend, Severin. But at the age of sixteen she watched in despair as Severin joined the Navy and later married someone else.
Severin Ortega is a ruggedly handsome, Scorpio who has suffered the humiliation of a messy divorce. The ladies love his wicked smile and obsidian eyes, but he’s extremely lonely and loath to expose his heart to another betrayal. After serving eight years, overseas, he returns without fanfare to the high desert Naval Airbase where he grew up to see if his childhood sweetheart is still sweet on him.

Sometimes fate has a way of putting things right. On a lonely desert highway, Avery’s car breaks down. When Severin shows up as the tow-truck driver, the chemistry between them is off the charts. Avery sees her chance to win the man she’s always wanted, but knows this moody Scorpio has been stung by love. During a night of stargazing in the desert, she coaxes him into opening up, all the while bathing him in the love she longs to share. But their lucky stars may not last. Avery’s bullying ex shows up on the scene and Severin’s past has been tarnished by a dark secret that won’t stay buried.


Want an excerpt?

On a dark road, they headed into a shallow canyon protected from the glare of town. Pulling onto a shoulder, he turned off the engine and doused the headlights. Darkness fell heavy all around. Unbuckling his seat belt, he reached for her hand.
She unfastened her belt and slid beside him on the bench seat, nestling against him.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. The gesture was at once both reassuring and suggestive. His fingertips stroked her arm as he held her firmly to his side. Without question, it was a lover’s touch. Leaning close, he pointed ahead with his free hand.
“Watch that section of sky.”
As if on his command, two beautiful streaks of light zipped across the hilltops. Then another and another.
“Oh!” The meteors flew overhead like a supersonic firework show. She barely had time to react.
He brushed his lips against her ear with his rich voice pitched low. “The most interesting thing about a meteor is the light is not that bright and doesn’t last longer than a blink, but in contrast to a dark sky, it seems so brilliant. Once you’ve turned your back on brighter lights, it becomes something special to appreciate.”
Her breath hitched. Something about the way he spoke tipped her off that he wasn’t really talking about shooting stars at all. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For this. If you hadn’t come along tonight—“
“You’d still be standing by the side of the road pissed off at Ramon?” He chuckled.
She was too timid to say, “Or still on the phone fighting with Jeremy and getting nowhere,” but she thought it. “By now, it’s likely I’d be sitting in a well-lit house, watching television, completely unaware all this beauty was happening above my roof.”
The sky was calm and clear, and then more streaks of gold darted overhead, one, two, three, four in quick succession. The fifth appeared to thicken and slow. It’s light fizzled a bright blue-green and hung in the air for a fleeting second before disappearing mid-heaven.
“An escapee,” he muttered. “That meteor got lucky. It bounced off the atmosphere and kept going.”
“They do that?” she said in wonder.
“Oh yes. When they come this close to Earth, most fall and vaporize, but a few are spared. The one we just glimpsed will be back next year.”
She turned to face him. They sat so close the tips of their noses touched. Reaching toward him, she stroked the edge of his jaw. Running her fingertips across the grainy stubble, she looked into his eyes. “I always hoped we’d meet again.”
Cupping her face, he pulled her near and brushed a light kiss to her lips. A second kiss followed warm and soft. With languid motions, he drew away, his gaze intense. “Should I be doing this?” He appeared concerned. “It is too soon?”
She’d been waiting years for Severin. In her heart of hearts, he had always been her absolute first choice. Returning his kiss, she wrapped her arms around his neck, breathing him in and savoring every sensation. His broad chest felt like a safe, solid presence to snuggle against.
“I can’t stop.” She unzipped his jacket and slipped her hands beneath. Her fingertips skimmed his black tee, cataloging each exciting sweep of lean muscle and imagining what he looked like minus the shirt. Patting the center of the bench seat, she coaxed him closer. “Slide over.”
A crooked smile crossed his lips. He moved from behind the steering wheel toward her.
With care, she swung a leg over his and climbed onto his lap, facing him. In a breathless moment she settled astride him. Even fully clothed, it was a thrill to have his powerful body pinned between her legs. Her thighs squeezed him tight. In an immediate answer to her snug caress, she felt his hardness press against her.
He leaned back against the seat with a look of amusement. “What are you going to do next?”
“Watch.” Bracing her hands against his chest, she peered into the deep sparkle of Severin’s eyes. Looking into his unreadable Scorpio-gaze was like swimming in a mystery. Leaning closer, she tangled her fingers in his hair and held him tenderly as she kissed his forehead, cheek, nose, and finally his parted lips, all the while thinking, You were always meant to be mine…I’m going to love you the way you deserve to be loved.
Holding her close, he returned the kiss with a husky sigh. With eyes at half-mast, he looked up at her with an expression so filled with silent rapture she was convinced the next spark would cause ignition.
Untangling her arms from her coat, she let it to drop from her shoulders. From the corner of her eye, she saw shooting stars race across the sky. He stroked the soft skin on her throat and allowed his fingertips to trace lower, to the swell of her breasts. Circling the pads of his thumbs, against the light weave of her sweater, her nipples peaked. She longed for him to unsnap her bra, push the sweater higher and explore her with wet kisses. “Do you know what I want?”
“Tell me,” he whispered.
Her gaze cast toward the down coat on the seat. It would make a soft pillow for her head when Severin stretched on top of her to lick her nipples. “I would love to—“

Are you a quick reader and reviewer? I have ARCs of Scorpio Dark Sky. If you are willing to read and review Scorpio Dark Sky in the next ten days and post a review on Amazon please click this link and I'll send you an ARC.  

Friday, October 16, 2015

More Black Hills Wolves! Deena Remiel's "Disquieted Souls" book # 29

By Deena Remiel

Releases Friday October 16th!

Willow Bissett, a fashion photographer, has had enough of the career that’s blackened her soul, and wants out. Her passion lies in taking pictures of nature, and she’s determined to make a living from doing it. When she stumbles upon a gruesome scene in the Black Hills Forest, her life is forever changed.

Greyson shouldn't be alive. As the runt of the litter, his mother left him to die in the wilderness. Picked up by Drew, son of the Alpha, he is adopted into the Tao Pack. Rather than living a charmed life, he lives his days alone, tormented by his abandonment and his unique appearance. His soul yearns for acceptance, peace, and closure.

Willow could be the answer to Greyson’s prayers, or the very death of him.

“Are you a fugitive from the law?”
He bared a perfect set of pearly white teeth any mother would be proud of and chuckled. “No. And I’ve never been arrested, either. You can relax.”
“So,” she pressed on, breathing easier once again, “you have a thing against the medical profession?”
He turned his face toward her, and she could now confirm his eyes, one rich amber with golden flecks, the other the deepest blue, were as beguiling as she’d figured. “You could say I’m a fast healer. I’ll be fine in a couple of days…Willow.”
When he spoke her name, it was as though he’d spread a coat of silky chocolate over her entire body and licked every ounce of it off with his tongue. Her palms tingled, her face flushed, and she shifted in her seat to ease the growing ache down low.
“Fast is one thing, but you’d need to be supernatural to bounce back from these wounds in a couple of days. Insert foot in mouth, Will.” She groaned and dropped her head into her hands.
“What do you mean?” His voice returned to a shaky whisper, but she heard him just fine.
She shrugged off her embarrassment and peered up at him. Enough dancing around the issue. She needed answers now that he was conscious and looking all delicious despite his injuries. So, she ignored his question and asked the first of many of her own. “Who are you?”
“My name is Greyson. Thanks for fixing me up. I’m sure you did an awesome job.”
“You’re welcome. I’m no doctor, but I make a damn good triage nurse in the wilderness when I need to. Back to you, Greyson. What the hell are you? And what actually happened out there? I can only guess, but I want the whole story. From the beginning. I don’t think it’s too much to ask…considering.”
“What if it is?”
“What if it is what?”
“Too much to ask.”