Tag Archives: Interracial

His to Punish (MF) ~ Doris O’Connor @mamaD8 @evernightpub

From the Author…

Thanks so much for having me on your blog today with my new release His to Punish, book two of my dark romance series The Cleaners. This is the story of Ren’s second in command Ty Mason. Ever since I wrote Book one in the series, His Prize, I’ve been itching to tell Ty’s story.

Ty seemed much softer than Ren, when we first get to know him, and to an extent that is certainly true. Ty though, like all of the cleaners to be fair, has many layers. He’s just as deadly as Ren; ruthlessly protective of those he cares about and deeply loyal.

I had great fun unravelling the truth behind who is Ty Mason, and there were a few surprises in store, I tell you. Subsequently this story is much longer than the first book in this series. It has many twists and turns as my too-feisty-for-her-own-good heroine goes looking for revenge… Which places Ty in somewhat of a dilemma.

Ren is like a brother to him, and he will do anything to protect his family, but what is he to do when the one woman who gets under his skin seems determined to threaten that family.

Well, you’ll have to read the book to find out what happens, I’m afraid.

07 Jul 11th - His-to-punish

Blurb:

The Cleaners, 2

Revenge or love…either choice will sacrifice her freedom. 

Dance teacher Jeanette MacArthur has one thing on her mind when she auditions for a job at La Masquerade—revenge. She couldn’t protect her sister from the criminals she now seeks employment with, but she can ensure that justice prevails.

If only her body wouldn’t melt at the touch of one of them. Ty Mason, second-hand man of the Cleaners, oozes dominance, aggression, and danger. He stands for everything she ought to despise, yet this unwanted attraction threatens to ruin her.

Ty can’t take his eyes off the new dancer, not least because he senses the threat she represents. Only one thing for it—claim her for his own, and torture the secrets out of her—if need be.

Her unwilling submission, however, means he discovers more than her secrets. His heart and their future are on the line.

Be warned: BDSM, forced seduction, rimming, spanking, sex toys

epeditorsesal1s

Excerpt:

Ty’s hands went to his belt, and she jumped when he spoke again.

“I said strip, girl, now.”

Jeanette complied with shaking hands, and another one of these deep, dark growls rumbled from Ty’s chest, when she stood before him naked. Try as she might she couldn’t bring herself to look at him, had to fight the insane urge to sink to her knees, in fact. Lord only knew what was happening to her. She was losing the plot, because she could swear she could feel Ty’s intense gaze like a physical touch, as he ran it over her naked body.

She jumped again when he cracked the belt through the air like a whip, the resulting snap far too loud in the quiet room. He stepped around her, running one finger along her skin. From the tip of her nose, around her mouth, down her neck, and along her collarbone into the valley between her breasts, he continued the silent exploration, the contrast of his much paler flesh next to hers a heady aphrodisiac indeed. When he cupped one of her breasts in his hand and lifting it, bent his head to suck her hard nipple into his mouth, Jeanette couldn’t stop her whimper of need. Unbidden her hands tangled in his hair, to keep him there, as every hard suck made her pussy quiver in need. She could smell her own arousal in the air, as her juices slowly trickled down the inside of her thighs.

Ty bit down hard on the breast in his mouth, and the sharp pain of his bite made Jeanette cry out. Not in pain exactly, because she was far too turned on and already teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

“Please…”

Ty soothed the leftover ache from his bite by licking it, before he abruptly withdrew.

“I haven’t given you permission to touch me, girl.” He reached up to grasp her wrist, and Jeanette immediately let go of his hair. She caught a glimpse of his stern expression before he swung her around.

“Face the wall, and spread your legs, girl.”

It didn’t even occur to her to disobey, and when he joined her moments later his clean male musk enveloped her.  He crowded her against that wall, the coolness of it against her skin a direct contrast against the heated male body pressing against her from behind. The feel of his chest hair against her back made her hyperaware of his harsh breathing. She closed her eyes against her shame, when he reached around and between her legs. There was nowhere to hide now, as confirmed by his next words.

“So fucking wet for me. You’re mine now, girl.”

A bite to her shoulder followed that possessive claim, and Jeanette cried out in surprise when he shoved two fingers into her pussy at the same time. Wet as she was they slid right in, and her internal muscles clamped down on the invaders. Ty thrust those digits in and out of her channel and adding another one, finger-fucked her with merciless precision. His cock was a hard, solid ridge against her hip, and he groaned into her neck again, when she spread her legs wider for him.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby, your body knows who you belong to, doesn’t it?”

Jeanette tried to respond, but nothing but a keening sound came out, because Ty curled his fingers to massage her G-spot. Pleasure surged through her hard and fast, and her hips took on a life of their own as she rocked herself against his hand, desperate to gain the friction she needed to her clit to get over.

Before she could get there, however, Ty withdrew his fingers, and slapped her ass hard. Jeanette moaned her denial and shoved her ass back into him in a silent bid for him to continue, but she should have known that was a useless exercise.

“No, your orgasms belong to me now, and you will not come without my permission.

One hand fisted in her hair, he pulled her away from the wall and marched her across to the cross. Jeanette’s heart missed a few beats, and then turned into a jackhammer when she caught side of their reflection in the mirror on the wall.

She looked like she felt, a woman on the edge. Her eyes were too wide, her mouth, still swollen from his earlier kisses slightly open, her breasts swaying from side to side, and shaking with every harsh breath she managed to draw into her lungs, as he half dragged her along. Her skin already showed the marks of his possession, his bite marks clearly visible, and she groaned when his arm came round her waist, and he kicked her legs apart. It meant her swollen most intimate parts were clearly visible. Jeanette ought to be ashamed at how wet she was, at the needy sounds that immediately spilled from her lips, when Ty yanked her head back further, and rubbed his jaw along her neck. His breath singed her skin, and their gazes locked. His dark eyes flashed with dangerous intent, and Jeanette’s internal muscles clenched in response, sending more moisture to her swollen lips.  Ty smiled when he noticed, and his voice dropped even further, sending yet more shivers of dread, or was it anticipation, down her spine. Her clit quivered, the usually tiny bud clearly visible at the top of her hood.

“Take a good look, titch. Your body doesn’t lie. You want this, need it, even, and I’m just the man to give you what you need. All you have to do is ask.”

His to Punish Teaser

Buy Links:

Evernight  ~  Bookstrand  ~  Amazon (UK)  ~  Amazon (US)  ~  AllRomance

Doris-O'Connor AuthorPic GlassesAuthor Bio:

Doris is a writer of sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get.  From contemporary to paranormal, Time Travel, Sci-fi, BDSM, F/F, M/M, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

Happily married for the last twenty-five years, she lives with her husband and their brood of nine in a far too small house filled with love, laughter, and chaos.

Author Links:

Website  ~  Blog  ~  Twitter  ~  Facebook  ~  Pinterest
Evernight ~  Amazon  ~  Bookstrand  ~  All Romance
Barnes & Noble  ~  TSU  ~  Reader Group

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His Prize, book 1 ~ Evernight | Bookstrand | Amazon UK | ARe

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The Secret of Obedience (MM) ~ Liv Rancourt @LivRancourt

12 Dec 14th - Obediencel

Blurb:

Opposites attract, but secrets divide… 

Ronnie Durand is a country boy who transfers to the University of Washington after two years at Central. He’ll have to give up playing football, though finishing his education at a major university in Seattle–and being out and proud without having to look over his shoulder–makes the sacrifice worthwhile.

But finding friends at a huge school is tough, especially when the hottest guy Ronnie meets makes him doubt his own sanity.

Sang’s been on his own a long time. He’s only a couple steps away from living on the street, and he’s got dreams so big they don’t leave space for a steady boyfriend. Then he meets Ronnie, who just might be strong enough to break through his barriers….as long as Sang lets him in on one big secret.

Be warned: m/m sex

Excerpt:

My bike’s parked right in front of the club. “Are we going far?” I ask.

“Four or five blocks.”

I hand him the helmet. “Get on.”

He slides the helmet on, and I help him tighten the buckles. He chitters a laugh, making the moment silly and a little awkward. I straddle the bike, and when he climbs on behind me it turns me on so bad I almost come again. Damn. I want to be stretched out in a bed with Sang, both of us naked, with a box of condoms and a Costco-sized bottle of lube.

With nudges and hand signals, he guides me to a big brick apartment building about a quarter mile away. I park, and he springs off, leaving me with a sharp shiver at the loss of his heat. By the time I get the bike locked up, he’s on the front door phone.

“I need your bed, chica.”

“I’m in it.” The voice is muffled, most likely female, and laughing rather than annoyed.

“Then your couch.”

The phone clicks and goes to dial tone, and the door buzzes. I follow Sang through the lobby, where the dark burgundy carpet could be original to the 1940s. We jog up a couple flights of stairs and down a hall to an open apartment door.

“Go.” He hustles me in, then throws the deadbolt and taps on a closed door to our right. “Thanks, baby.”

An indistinct bleat answers him, likely from the location of the occupied bed. The rest of the apartment is one room with a kitchenette in the corner. It’s dark except for the streetlights outside, but Sang knows where to find candles and a match. We’re quiet, wordless, working with borrowed solitude. Compared with the thrash of the nightclub and the sleazy bathroom stall, I’ll take it.

I dump my jacket and helmet on the dining table. Sang sets two candles on the tiny bookcase, hauls me over to the couch, and pushes me down. I’m laughing, because for a little guy, he’s bossy as hell. Then he straddles me, and I want to kiss him without pissing him off. I drag him close and nuzzle his neck, tasting, testing, planting not-kisses in a hot line down his throat. He sighs, and I take it as permission to keep going.

His pants are stretch leggings, so it doesn’t take much to get them worked down over his hips to free his dick. It’s so elegant, tapered and smooth. I want to suck on it again, to bring him off and make him sputter in Korean or Chinese or whatever language he babbled in last time. If he wanted me to, I’d fuck him, but he’d have to ask. I’m not really much for butt sex. If a guy’s into it, I’ll do what he wants, but my own preference is for hands and mouths, everything slick with spit and lube. I like messy sex. And kissing. I really like kissing.

I stroke him, rubbing my thumb over the head of his dick, and he flops against me like I’ve disconnected his spinal cord. The room smells of smoke and roses, and he’s fumbling at my zipper, those delicate hands all trembling and raw, so I reach in and help. My hand’s big enough to wrap around both of us, the heat of his thrust enough to drive both of us crazy. His lace shirt is tangling in my fingers and around our shafts, so I undo the buttons and shove it off his shoulders. My black silk is already kinda trashed, but he does the same for me, exposing my chest.

Our thrusting goes from eager to urgent to needy, his heavy-lidded gaze trapping me. His climax hits like a rocket, like fireworks going off in a black July sky. I follow, but it’s more of a tease, dragged out, slow and seductive until I can’t breathe and I arch off the couch. Sang crawls up my chest, hanging on, laying open-mouthed kisses over my ear, down my jaw.

If I’m lucky, this night will never end.

“We need to go soon.”

His whisper hits me like a slap. “I’d bring you back to my dorm,” I say, “but I haven’t given my roommate the homophobia quiz yet.”

He raises up and smirks at me. “I don’t like him already.”

I run a hand over his shoulder, smoothing his ruffled feathers. My calloused fingertips catch in the lace, and I wonder how something so old fits like it was made for him.

“What are you studying in that big school, anyway?” His question is tentative, cautious.

“Exercise science or maybe business. I haven’t chosen a major yet.” I pause, giving him a chance to ask a follow-up question. When he doesn’t I step up. “What about you? What are you studying at that big school?”

He grimaces and shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m not at your school.”

“Oh, it’s my school now?”

He pats my cheek. “Yes. Your school.”

“I see you every day in World History.”

“No one sees me.” His lower lip softens, and he catches it with the tips of his teeth. “They see the clothes.” He reaches for the lace blouse, shaking it out and tossing it over his shoulders. “They see a girl or a scenester or a queer.” He stands, shakes his junk back into his stretchy pants, does a little hootchie dance to organize things. “No one sees me. Not even my family.”

Old pain erodes his effervescence, showing through the cracks like basalt under soil. I’m stretched over the couch, on display, my shirt open and my dick hanging out of my jeans. He covers my eyes with his hand, but I knock it away.

“I think you look real good. I’d like to see a lot more of you.”

Which sounds really kind of lame and try-hard, but this is what I came to Seattle for, too. Adventure. Maybe even romance, the kind I can show off in public.

“I want to,” he says.

For a moment he shows me his profile, private, thoughtful, and I give him some space to go on.

“And if I was going to see someone,” he continues with more laughter in his tone, “he’d be a lot like you.”

“So let’s do it.”

I should probably feel bad when he doesn’t respond, but the back-to-back orgasms catch up with me. I tip my head back and close my eyes, fighting sleep. Sang’s rummaging around the apartment. Haven’t a clue why he’s lying about school and why he won’t take me up on my offer, but after two evenings he’s an itch I won’t be able to scratch on my own, so I let it go. Country boys are known for their determination.

TheSecretofObedience-evernightpublishing-JayAheer2015-banner2

Buy Links:

Evernight  ~  Bookstrand  ~  Amazon (US)  ~  All Romance  ~  Barnes & Noble

LivRancourtAuthor Bio:

I write romance: m/f, m/m, and v/h, where the h is for human and the v is for vampire … or sometimes demon … I lean more towards funny than angst. When I’m not writing I take care of tiny premature babies or teenagers, depending on whether I’m at home or at work. My husband is a soul of patience, my dog’s cuteness is legendary, and we share the homestead with three ferrets. Who steal things. Because they’re brats.

I can be found on-line at all hours of the day and night at my website & blog, on Facebook, or on Twitter. For sneak peeks and previews and other assorted freebies, sign up for my mailing list.

Come find me. We’ll have fun!

Author Links:

Website/Blog  ~  Facebook  ~  Twitter  ~  Newsletter


Mine to Love (MF) ~ Lea Bronson @LeaBronson

From the Author…

Book two of the Hot Model Mine trilogy is finally here! Did you wonder what happened to erotic romance author Andrea and her irresistible cover model, Yushka, after the conference in Cannes?

In book one, The Perfect Shoot, things were complicated for the couple. He was much younger than her—practically the same age as her twins—and she’d spent half her life without a man. After much reflection, she ended up giving into her desire and taking Mr. Hot Model for lover. But what then after they traveled back to their separate lives?

Wait no more: They’re here to tell the continuation of their sizzling love story.

09 Sep 29th - minetolove

Blurb:

Hot Model Mine, 2

The writing conference in sunny Cannes was fantastical, a dream. Back at home, reality catches up with author Andrea Johnson and the sexy cover model of her book, Yushka. With tough working schedules, challenging family relations, and seductive temptation from all sides, the couple’s explosive romance is put to the test.

Will their love be strong enough to have a future?

Book Trailer

Excerpt:

While Yushka gets his duffel bag in the back seat, I lean against the side of the Corolla and stretch my arms on top of its roof. “You got everything?”

“Yeah.” He lifts the bag over his shoulder and tilts his head in direction of the front door. “We good to go?”

My pulse beats a little faster at the thought of him dropping that bag on my bedroom floor and lifting me in his arms instead. I’m so excited to be with him, I simmer inside, aching to touch and hold him. I want to have all of him at once, right now.

A spark of amusement plays in his gorgeous Asian eyes as he waits for me to make a move. “What’s on your mind, Princess?”

Holding his gaze, I smile, my fingers tapping a beat on the car hood to buy some time because I don’t know what to reply. I have a feeling whatever might come out of my mouth now, like I can’t wait to rip those clothes off you or I’m going to make you scream, will sound too cheesy. Why do we need to put our attraction into words, anyway? Once we’re home, there’ll be no reason to talk that much. We’ll do the talking with our more-than-capable hands and … um … mouths.

I tap a quick rap before stepping back from the car. “Come on.”

“Okay.” Widening his smile, he follows me to the front entrance.

I unlock and push the wood door open. “I hope your bag’s not too heavy. The elevator doesn’t work.”

“When are they gonna fix it?”

“Huh, good question.” I step forward, but when in the doorway, I spin to hold the door open for him. “I have no idea.”

“No?” With a raised brow, he passes me.

Just then, I move toward him, chest-to-chest, blocking him and his thick bag between myself and the doorframe.

“Oh!” He laughs.

As the door pushes into my back, squeezing me tighter against him, I put my hands on his waist. First above his clothes––the thick leather jacket and his shirt––then sneaking underneath both of them, my fingers splaying on his warm skin and stroking him.

Completely stuck, he tilts his head and stares into my eyes, his own sparkling with playfulness. “What are you up to?”

“You have a problem?” I move my hands out from beneath his shirt and go downward to palm his tight ass cheeks, pulling his crotch to me. My lower stomach and increasingly heating inner thighs seek to meet his. I want to be so near him he’ll feel my lust, and I want his lust to grow, too. I need us to join and be a match, a melting pot of desire, irresistible and untamable.

“I have to bribe you?” he asks, voice lower, and leans down to kiss me.

How did he guess? At the warm touch of his parted lips, delight rushes through me as if I’d had a shot of alcohol.

He retreats his face a few inches, enough to have a view of what he just kissed. “This good enough for you?” His voice comes out husky, a bit short of breath. With his free hand, he strokes and kneads my butt.

“One more,” I mouth with the next exhale of air. Though the door bores painfully into my back, I don’t want to move, loving the feel of being so close to Yushka, so intimate. It’s amazing how instantaneous and intense our connection is. Just wait till we get our clothes off.

Again, his warm lips land on mine, and we kiss greedily, nose-to-nose, wet tongues playing with each other. My inner pussy muscles clench, remembering too well what it’s like to have his cock inside. I breathe faster. A growing hardness in his crotch presses against me, provoking more tightening. Oh, God. Hot wetness glides down my pussy, wetting my panties. So ready, so soon… I mew into his mouth, and he rewards me with a guttural response, our mouths practically eating each other.

But this isn’t the right place. We need to move and play this torturous game and its grand finale somewhere else.

Releasing his lips, I gasp from our separation, but still manage to pull away.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” He inhales deeply and looks up, feverish eyes widening and trying to refocus.

As I step backward, forcing the door to open again, cold evening air sneaks between our heated bodies. “Let’s go,” I say with a croak, my chest heaving.

He gives a small nod and steps inside the low-lit lobby.

Add the book to your Goodreads list, and check out my inspiration on Pinterest!

Buy Links:

Evernight  ~  Bookstrand  ~  Amazon (US)  ~  Amazon (UK)  ~  AllRomance

hotmodelmine

Want to read the first book, The Perfect Shoot? You can find it here.

Lea BronsenAuthor Bio:

I like my reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strive to give my own stories the same intensity. After venturing into dirty inner-city crime drama with my debut novel Wild Hearted, I divide my writing time between psychological thriller, suspense romance, and erotic contemporary romance.

Author Links:

I love to hear from my readers! Write to leabronsen@yahoo.com or meet me on:

Website  ~  Lea’s Crazy Nights Blog  ~  Facebookprofile  ~  Facebook page  ~  Twitter  ~  Amazon


VEXED (M/F) ~ Wren Michaels @authorwren

From the Author…

Thanks for sharing in the release of my first full-length novel! I hope you enjoy reading about Kena and Luc as much as I enjoyed writing them. There’s plenty of action, romance, and Vodou for everyone! I did a little Q&A about the book:

Q) How did you dream up the dynamics of your characters? Originally the story was going to be completely different when I wrote the first 5000 words or so of the book. But after I came back from the 2014 Romantic Times convention in New Orleans, I was inspired to write something with a Vodou/NOLA flair. So the book took a twist and became so much more than I ever imagined. I wanted a strong heroine and an alpha male. But Luc ended up being more of an Alpha/Beta blend. He’s not really one or the other. He’s quite complex. Kena ended up being a witty heroine who took things into her own hands.

Q) Do you have any habits that get you in the writing frame of mind? Music is my biggest influence. I listened to mainly instrumental gaming soundtracks while writing. But one of my Critique Partners burned me a CD of music she thought would be perfect for this book, and it was filled with great songs by The Black Keys, Rolling Stones, Zepplin, Jack White and Muse. It ended up really making scenes come alive for me.

Q) How much real life do you put into or influences your books? In this book I tried to make the characters reflect their Vodou based deities. I did take some artistic liberties and spun a few things, but I did a lot of research to make sure a lot of the intricacies of their actual descriptions and quirks made it into the story.

07 Jul 21st - VEXEDm

Blurb:

Vodou stole her life. A gay ghost stole her boots. And the man who stole her heart stole her memories. Kena plans to get it all back.

Ex-cop Kena’s life is filled with regret, beer, and Cheetos. That is, until her ghostly roomie sends her dumpster diving, leading her to a sexy stranger named Luc and a fate she’d rather not remember. As Kena’s memories resurface, so do her feelings for Luc, the man she’s secretly been in love with for the last thousand years. And he needs her for more than a stroll down memory lane.

Vodou spirits, known as Loa, have been trapped in human form, and are trying to make their way back to the spirit world. But Luc’s brother is possessed by a vengeance demon conjured at the hands of NOLA’s crime syndicate kingpin. Saving him means damning herself to a spirit prison in a loveless, arranged union with the very man she’s supposed to rescue. But not helping Luc’s brother sentences him to death, leaving New Orleans in the hands of black magick, and losing Luc forever.

Excerpt:

After stripping out of the wet clothes, I wrapped the towel around myself and wandered out to his room. On the bed lay a white long-sleeved button-down shirt. With a hard swallow, I dropped the towel and picked up the shirt. Pulling it to my face, I took a long, hard sniff. Laundry detergent. Of course. Did I think it would smell like him?

Like he’d give you a dirty shirt to wear, Kena.

Thankful he didn’t witness me in idiot-mode, I slid myself into the shirt and was caught mid-button when he knocked at the door.

“Are you decent?” He pushed the door open a crack.

“I’m clothed, if that’s what you mean. Decent is debatable at the moment.” Purposely leaving the top three buttons undone, I worked my way to the bottom button as he walked in.

He halted mid-stride and looked at me. His chest rose and fell in quick spurts, training his eyes over me from head to toe. Veins traversed the length of his arm as he clenched his fists at his sides. “I don’t wear underwear, so I apologize I have no bottoms. It’s all I had that was long enough to cover you.” His position relaxed as he leaned against the mahogany armoire.

“Anything’s better than cold, sopping-wet clothes.” I ran a finger through my hair, now slowly drying into loose stringy curls.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened tonight?” Folding his arms across his broad chest, bulging muscles stretched the navy-blue fabric barely covering his biceps.

I shook my head. “Not until I get some honesty from you, big guy.”

With a tilt of his head, he donned a sly grin. “You haven’t asked the right questions.”

“Is this a game for you? Do you enjoy messing with people’s lives? Do you get off on some fucked-up high, being in total control?” My fingernails burrowed into the palm of my hand. Everything in me wanted to slap the shit out of him and then ride him like a cowgirl.

He pushed off the dresser and walked over to me, lowering his head coming to a stop inches from my face. “You’re the one in control and yet you refuse to acknowledge it. You refuse to let your mind accept it. Stop playing and start being.”

“What do you want from me?” I yelled, a little louder than intended.

“I want you to be you. I want you to”—he stopped and dropped his gaze to my lips, and then slowly made his way back up to my eyes—“come back.”

“Kiss me.” The words rushed from my lips without another thought. My heart hammered so hard in my chest I thought it would shatter my rib cage.

His breathing quickened. A low growl rumbled in his throat. “Don’t do this to me, Kena.”

“Don’t do what? You’re the one doing things to me.” I slammed my hands against his chest and he sailed across the room, his back hitting the dresser behind him. “Shit! I’m sorry.” I reached out for him with a trembling hand.

Fuck, I’d done it again.

He shook his head and straightened himself up. In a blur of movement, he shot across the room and grabbed onto either side of my shirt, yanking me up to his face. “You want me to kiss you?”

“Yes,” I said in more of whooshing sound than a word.

He pressed his lips against my neck and his fingers curled into the fabric of the shirt, pulling me onto my tiptoes. “You don’t even know who I am.”

“I don’t care.” Words no longer made sense to me, only his touch spoke a language I could understand.

He laughed as he pushed me against the wall. Gripping the back of my head with the entire palm of his hand, he splayed the other across my cheek, his thumb resting against my jawline. Tilting my head back, he hovered his lips over mine. “You will.”

His lips crushed against my mouth.

With a sweep of his tongue, he devoured me into a kiss the likes of which I’ve never experienced before in my life. He punished my mouth with his tongue, sliding it over mine in a delicious dance of ecstasy and aggression. His hold on me was not that of violence, but of passion. The way his fingertips eased against my face, yet held me there as if he was scared to let go, revealed a vulnerability. He might be a man of few words who knew how to play the vague card, but his body and actions gave him away.

I arched into him, and he pinned me back against the wall with his hip. Clawing at his shirt, I ripped it out of his jeans and slid my fingers over his heated skin. A surge of energy rushed my fingertips as they glided along his body, electrifying me.

“Fuck, Kena,” he hissed, pulling back from the kiss.

In a movement so fast it blurred everything around me, he shot out the door, slamming it behind him. He left me gasping, clinging to the wall behind me just to remain standing. My legs wobbled like Jell-O as I stumbled to the bed and collapsed. He sucked all the air from my body and replaced it with an ache, a driving need for more of him.

What the hell was he?

VEXED-evernightpublishing-JayAheer2015-banner1

Buy Links:

Evernight  ~  Bookstrand  ~  Amazon (US)  ~  All Romance

Author Bio:

Wren Michaels hails from the frozen tundra of Wisconsin where beer and cheese are their own food groups. But then a cowboy swept her off her feet and carried her away below the Mason-Dixon line where she promptly lost all tolerance for snow and cold. They decided they’d make beautiful babies together and they got it right on the first try. Now Wren lives happily ever after in the real world and in the worlds of her making, where she creates book boyfriends for the masses to crave.

Author Links:

Website  ~  Facebook  ~  Twitter  ~  TSU  ~  Goodreads


Rattle (M/F) ~ Olivia R. Burton

07 Jul 14th - rattle1l

Blurb:

A Preternatural PNW Novel, 1

Finn’s a failure—at necromancy and life in general. “It’s not my fault,” he’d insist, looking deep into your eyes as he lifts your wallet. You’d catch him, of course. Because he’s a failure.

Veruca, on the other hand, is competence personified. She has to be, working as a Reaper directly under the Prince of Hell. When Finn shows up in a stolen sport coat and uses Veruca as cover from his murderous mistress’ glowering goons, she finds the one thing she may not be so good at: resisting Finn’s handsome face.

Excerpt:

“We’re not eating?” Finn asked, wondering why she’d set the chair facing the door instead of the table full of stomach-seducing food.

“Not yet. Sit.” She made it an order this time, though her voice was still soft, her expression still calm. He did as she said, settling in curiously. Immediately, she stepped around the front of him, tucked one leg between his knees and leaned over him.

He thought for a moment she was going to kiss him and he tilted his face up to meet her, but she just rested her palms on his cheeks, running her thumbs gently under his eyes, her gaze focused on his cheeks. She touched him, and he found himself immensely confused by it.

Plenty of people had touched Finn, in varying degrees of pleasantness. He’d been slapped, punched, squeezed, groped, pinched, all manner of molested. He hadn’t always enjoyed having a stranger’s hands on his body, but he’d always found he got something from it in the end. Whether he needed to endure abuse in order to survive or make some money, or whether he’d welcomed a partner into his arms gleefully, he’d come out safe enough.

This was a wholly new experience, Veruca rubbing her soft fingers across his face and neck. His body relaxed as she went, the tension and curiosity running out of him as she tipped his head, caressed his neck, and inspected his skin. When she slid her hands from the back of his throat up into his hair, he let out a low moan, his eyes closing as they rolled back in his head. Almost immediately, he found himself embarrassed and opened his eyes. Veruca was smiling as she watched the way her fingers moved through his hair.

“How’d you get the bruise?” she asked, dropping one hand to his shoulder while the other flitted across his jaw. He had to take a second for the question to get through as he sat there, head tilted back to stare up at her. She waited patiently, her thigh warm against his knee. He swallowed, shaking himself out.

“Ehm, had a … I was mugged. Lost all my clothes.” It was close enough to the truth that he hoped he’d appear sincere enough to gain pity. She tilted her head.

“So all you’ve got is the shirt on your back?”

“Yeah.”

“Take it off.”

Rattle-Evernightpublishing-JayAheer2015-banner2

Buy Links:

Evernight  ~  Bookstrand  ~  Amazon (US)  ~  All Romance

Author Bio:

Olivia loves cats, action movies, and vegan candy. She won an award for her writing in high school and has been insufferable ever since. Rattle is her second novel out, so if you like what you read, check out her blog for another book set in the Preternatural Pacific Northwest!

Author Links:

Blog  ~  Facebook  ~  Twitter


Murder and Mayhem (M/F) ~ Jennifer Macaire

From the Author…

Thank you for hosting “Murder and Mayhem”! It’s an urban fantasy with a dose of romance and a zest of humor. If you liked Buffy the Vampire slayer, you’ll enjoy May, the vampire killer!

06 June 19th - MurderandMayhem

Blurb:

M.U.C.I Files (Mutant and Undead Criminal Investigation)

Meet May, the vampire killer. She’s quick, clever, and deadly, and she takes life very seriously having been killed once before by a mob of rogue vamps. Her father, a powerful necromancer, brought her back to life. She’s M.U.C.I.’s (Mutant and Undead Criminal Investigation) best man, er, woman, well, zombie actually, for catching and killing rogue vampires, so when two kids show up with all the signs of having been killed by a rogue, May gets the case.

Clues lead straight to a certain Bartholomew Aelfrith, a vampire, whose sense of humor and tall blond good looks are enough to convince May he needs killing, even if he’s not the killer. If he makes one more joke about her chop-sticks, she’s going to stab him through the heart with one. The problem is, Bartholomew is probably the only person who can catch the real killer, so May has to put up with his insouciance and his wise-cracks, and his penchant for picking up strays of all kinds.

But if he says, “I’ve got a plan” one more time, she’s going to scream.

Excerpt:

May stepped outside and opened her umbrella. The burst of hail had changed to sporadic, slushy rain. It was a glowering, bitterly cold evening. Clouds moved sullenly across the dark sky.

From her street on the hill, she could see the river curving in its gentle S, the two bridges, Christmas Junction where the sky scrapers glittered, and downtown, where she could hopefully find a taxi. The clouds were so low that they hid the top half of the skyscrapers in Christmas Junction. A train, far in the distance, looked like a brightly lit caterpillar crossing the busy downtown area below.

The street she lived on was in a quiet residential neighborhood with old trees and a large park behind a tall, wrought-iron fence. The buildings, trees, and fence all leaned together, conspiring to keep the riffraff out. The sidewalk was clean and the cars lining the road gleamed. No riffraff here tonight … unless that shadow was up to no good.

May tilted her head to get a better look. In between two cars, on the opposite side of the street, huddled a shadow. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Something was not quite right. The shadow was too small to be a human, but too large for a dog. It slid around to the far side of the car to hide as May drew even.

What was it hiding from? And what was it? May was curious. She closed her umbrella and hooked it over the fence on her left, and then she darted across the street and peered behind the car. Crouching near the rear bumper was a small, skinny boy.

“Hi there. Are you all right?” May started toward him.

He bared his fangs and hissed as she drew near.

May’s step faltered. A vampire child. An abomination! Who the hell had made him? The prickle of fear turned into a full blown shiver. Poor creature. Too young to fend for itself, but dangerous nonetheless. As soon as it realized its powers it would go on a killing spree, and nothing living could resist it. Slowly, she eased her hand into her purse to get her cellphone to call for backup.

“Don’t hurt me,” he whimpered, cowering against the car. His eyes were huge with panic. Blood on his neck and a wet, brown stain on his T-shirt showed he hadn’t changed his clothes since it had happened, and that it had been recent. That was a blessing, at least. The more recently he had been killed, the weaker he would be. She might be able to handle this on her own.

Staying well back, she examined him. He wore no jacket and one of his shoes, May noted, was missing. “I won’t hurt you. Where’s your other shoe?” It was best to stick to unimportant things. Or at least, things that seemed unimportant. At times like this, anything could be crucial. Anything could set him off. She had to be careful. A rogue vampire had made this creature, and its saliva was deadly for anything other than a full-blooded vampire.

“My shoe?” He glanced down at his foot and flinched. “I don’t know.” He looked back up at her, his eyes pleading now. “I don’t know. I woke up nearby, I think, in a park. I woke up when the hail hit my face. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who I am. Can you help me? I should be cold …” His voice trailed off. “I’m dreaming. Is that it? Is this a dream?”

May nodded, forcing her lips into a smile. “Yes. It’s a dream.”

Poor creature. He’d been badly made, hastily made, and made against all the laws and rules that governed the vampire clan. Not that they had many rules, and not that they really cared. They followed the rules only because they feared the consequences of breaking them and not from any moral obligation. May moved very slowly, so as not to startle him into attacking her.

“I can help you,” she said, crouching in front of him. “It’s a strange dream, isn’t it? I can help you.”

“I just want to wake up.” His voice was hoarse and his fangs, sharp as needles, glittered with bloody saliva.

“All right.” May eased her hand into her purse. “I want you to stand up straight. That’s right. Now, close your eyes and say, ‘There’s no place like home.’ Say it three times, and you’ll wake up.”

“All right.” He nodded, pathetically glad to obey. He screwed his eyes shut. “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.”

May took careful aim and drove the stake through his heart.

“There’s no place like … home.” The creature opened its eyes, but they were empty and saw nothing now. He was so slight he fell like a ribbon to the sidewalk, landing without a sound. His bare foot pointed at the sky. It started to rain again, harder.

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Buy Links:

Evernight  ~  Bookstrand  ~  Amazon (US)  ~  All Romance

Author Bio:

Jennifer Macaire lives in France with her husband, three children, & various dogs & horses. She loves cooking, eating French chocolate, growing herbs and flowering plants on her balcony, and playing golf. She grew up in upstate New York, Samoa, and the Virgin Islands. She graduated from St. Peter and Paul high school in St. Thomas and moved to NYC where she modeled for five years for Elite. She went to France and met her husband at the polo club. All that is true. But she mostly likes to make up stories.

Author Links:

Website  ~  Blog  ~  Facebook  ~  Email

* * * * *

May’s traditional zombie stir fry recipe:

Honey Lemon Chicken and Asparagus – Serves 4

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon oil
1 pound chicken, cut into bite sized pieces
1 pound asparagus, trimmed and cut into 1 inch pieces
2 tablespoons honey
3 tablespoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest
2 tablespoons soy sauce (reduced sodium)
1/4 cup chicken both – (May uses chicken bullion cubes)
1 teaspoon chilli sauce or a pinch of cayennne pepper
1 clove garlic, grated
1 teaspoon ginger, grated
1 tablespoon water
2 teaspoons cornstarch

Directions:

– Mix honey, lemon juice, soy sauce, broth, chill sauce, lemon zest, garlic, ginger and set aside in a bowl.
– Heat the oil in a pan over medium-high heat, add the chicken and stir fry until cooked through and browned a bit.
– Add the asparagus and stir fry until it turns a brighter green, about 2 minutes.
– Add the honey, lemon juice mixture, stir
– Whisk the water with the corn starch, stir in to coat and cook until the sauce thickens, about a minute.

Serve over rice. (May likes to drink ginger beer with this, and finish up with lychees and her father’s smoky moon-shadow tea.)


Native Tongue (M/M) ~ Lucy Felthouse

05 May 13th - nativetongue

Blurb:

They may be back on British soil, but the battle isn’t over.

When Captain Hugh Wilkes fell for his Afghan interpreter, Rustam Balkhi, he always knew things would never be easy. After months of complete secrecy, their return to England should have spelt an end to the sneaking around and the insane risks. But it seems there are many obstacles for them to overcome before they can truly be happy together. Can they get past those obstacles, or is this one battle too many for their fledgling relationship?

Excerpt:

Captain Hugh Wilkes drummed enthusiastically on the steering wheel of his car as he drove it up the M3 towards London. He sung loudly and tunelessly along to the song on the radio, too, but it didn’t matter. No one could hear him.

He’d surprised himself by being so chilled out about the volume of Friday evening traffic. He wasn’t the most patient of people, so the slow progress should probably have been increasing his blood pressure, if not leading to full on road rage. But, although he’d have loved to be actually achieving the speed limit, not bumbling along at a mere fifty miles per hour, Wilkes was just glad the traffic was moving at all. Britain’s roads, the motorways in particular, soon came to a standstill if there was so much as a tiny bump between two vehicles. So any progress was better than none.

Besides, what could he do about it? His only other options to get to London from his base in Wiltshire were a train, or stealing a plane, helicopter or tank. The latter might just cause a little bit of bother, and mean the end of his army career, not to mention criminal charges. The former meant cramming in amongst sweaty, disgruntled commuters. If that wasn’t bad enough, he’d be charged an extortionate amount to do so, probably wouldn’t even get a seat, and would likely be subjected to delays.

At least driving took him from door to door, with plenty of personal space. And if there were delays, well, he could sit them out from the comfort of his own vehicle, with the climate control set to the perfect temperature, and the radio blasting some of his favourite tunes.

The next song was even better, and Wilkes’ tuneless wailing became more enthusiastic, as did the drumming on the steering wheel. He was in one hell of a good mood, and if he was truthful with himself, he knew it wasn’t just the fact the M3 was moving at a nice pace. It wasn’t the Friday feeling, either. Sure, both of those things were contributing to his happiness, but the main reason he was grinning like a buffoon was the thought of what awaited him in the capital. Or rather, who.

Rustam Balkhi. His gorgeous Afghan boyfriend, whom he’d met out in Afghanistan while they were working together for the British Army. Now, with their tour of duty over and the forces’ presence pulled out of the country, the two men had returned to England. Wilkes had gone back to his regular army life in Bulford Camp, near Salisbury. Balkhi was in London, where he’d recommenced the medical training he’d postponed to become an interpreter for the Brits.

The past few weeks had been somewhat of a whirlwind. Wilkes’ return to the UK had been straightforward, but Balkhi had had to jump through some hoops in order to get back onto his medical course. He’d been willing to start from scratch, but it’d seemed like an awful waste of time, so Wilkes had spoken to his superiors, who’d explained to the university what important work Balkhi had been doing. Fortunately, they’d been persuaded of Balkhi’s commitment and character, and allowed him to pick up where he’d left off. That settled, Balkhi had to pack up, travel back to the UK, find somewhere to live, move in… and all before the start of the next academic term.

Wilkes had felt terrible. His return had taken place a few weeks before Balkhi’s, so although he’d been granted some leave for R&R, he hadn’t been able to either spend it with Balkhi, or to use it help him with his relocation. By the time Balkhi had set foot on British soil, Wilkes was back to work. And, given nobody knew about the two of them, or even that Wilkes was gay, he couldn’t exactly ask for more leave in order to help his boyfriend move into his new flat.

Life had conspired against them ever since, so this was the first opportunity they’d had to see each other since saying goodbye in Afghanistan all those weeks ago. They’d communicated via email, text message and phone calls, but it just wasn’t the same. Especially since they’d gone from seeing each other every single day for the best part of six months to not setting eyes on each other for weeks on end.

Wilkes had struggled terribly in the interim. Life had been tough enough while they were still out in the desert. After weeks and weeks of trying desperately to ignore their growing attraction, they’d finally given in to it. It had been stupid and risky, but, having quickly realised there was more to their attraction than the physical, they’d decided to carry on their relationship in secret while they were in Afghanistan, see how it went, and figure things out once Wilkes’ tour of duty was over. Balkhi had always intended to return to the UK for his studies, so they would, at least, be living in the same country.

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Buy Links:

Amazon (US)  ~  Amazon (UK)  ~  All Romance  ~  Barnes & Noble  ~  iTunes (US)  ~  iTunes (UK)  ~  Smashwords

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes.

Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9