Friday, December 27, 2013

Coming Soon: Champagne and Chocolate #RomFantasy

Yesterday I signed a new contract for this novella. It will be my first release with Naughty Nights Press. The good news is, this lovely Fiona Jayde cover will remain and be the cover for the new release!


ARe Romance  |  Smashwords  |  Publisher  |  

As she led him to the private wing of the large building that housed her home and business, Chantille had time to question the wisdom of her actions—again. She'd been berating herself for most of the past thirty minutes. Austin Standish was a danger to her; she knew this on an instinctive level. Not that he would hurt her, of course. But, he was dangerous, just the same.

She was acutely aware of every panther-like, lissome step he took behind her. He was elegant in manner and dress, quietly contained but always alert. The sense of being in perilous company assailed her with new severity. She opened the twin doors to her living suite and went inside, hearing him close the doors behind him before joining him.

She continued into the room, uncomfortable as she chafed against the restraints of her heavy dress and the many layers beneath it. She'd permitted a few select men into this suite over the past five years, but none had ever made her so acutely aware of herself and the desire to shed her clothes and feel solid muscles and male hardness pressed to her warm curves. Her breasts felt heavy, and her nipples strained against the fabric of her chemise, rubbing against the soft material until the pebbled points ached. Between her thighs, a slow, steady throb began to increase in rhythm, finding a matching tempo in her heartbeat.

The soft illumination from the fireplace touched the wood that dominated the room's furnishings, warming the smooth, lustrous finish as shadows danced on the walls and glimmered in the reflections of the mirror that adorned one wall of the room. She saw nothing, only the darkness that had grown around her so steadily throughout the past half-hour, a darkness that touched her with fears she couldn't clearly define, much less explain.

Watching the play of light catch in the soft gold of his hair, Chantille was struck again by the intuitive knowledge that dominated the man's handsome features. Barely suppressed sensuality and anticipation were so strong in the shadowed intimacy of the suite that she felt she could reach out and touch the things that presently put them on opposite sides of a chasm she didn't know with certainty she wanted to close. The only thing she did know was that she wanted to be with him more than she had any man she'd ever met.

"Tell me what you're feeling right now, Chantille."


"At me?"

"No," she whispered, then shook her head to deny her dishonesty. "Yes."


"I don't like being vulnerable."

* * * * *

For the first time, Chantille looked right at him, and Austin could read all the uncertainty he hadn't taken the time to notice before. He answered her honestly, unwilling to do anything less.

"Being vulnerable isn't always a bad thing, Chantille. Sometimes it makes you stronger."

"I don't believe that, and you certainly don't." The edge crept back into her tone. "I feel like I did when I was a child, needing to be wanted. When I came to San Francisco, I swore I'd never feel that way again."

Austin drew in a deep draught of air and ran a hand through his hair.

"You don't have to be afraid of anything, Chantille." He knew the words were weak, and he could have kicked himself for them once they were spoken.

She actually managed to smile at the statement, though there was no warmth in the expression.

"Weak women hold no appeal for men like you, Mr. Standish," she remarked.

"Is that what you want? To appeal to me?"

She laughed, a low murmur of sound that stirred the air between them.

"I want to share my bed with you, Austin," she conceded. "What I don't want is for it to cost me everything I've worked for."

"What are you afraid of losing?"

"My independence."

"Your heart."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Don't lie to me, or to yourself."

Chantille met his eyes as if she were trying to pierce the shadows that surrounded them, to see what lay hidden behind that confident stare. When nothing shone forth, she closed her eyes.

Austin let the silence engulf them again for a long minute, then he closed the distance, touched her chin, and made her face him. His thumb brushed at the tear welled in the corner of her eye.

"I do want you," she murmured, voice raw with the force of her feelings.

The loneliness and the need for reassurance was almost a physical presence in the room with them, and Austin was forced to wonder just how long it had been since Chantille L'Amour had uttered those words to any man. If she ever had.

"I want you, too, Chantille."

Austin's whispered words were like a soft breath of air touching her face as he leaned forward to cover her lips with a tender kiss. She moved into the caress with a soft gasp, and her knees seemed to buckle as Austin's tongue slipped into her mouth with possessive hunger.

Chantille broke the intense kiss, and her head fell back as a sigh of relief and pleasure slipped out of her. She wrapped her arms around Austin's neck, then buried her face against his broad shoulder as she shivered into the sensations they were igniting in each other. She smiled at the slight catch already detectable in Austin's breathing, then shuddered when his hands began to work the buttons of her gown.

Suddenly, she eased free of his embrace and took a step back. He watched, eyes narrowed for a moment as he waited to see why she'd withdrawn. The wariness left his gaze a few seconds later when she lit another lamp and stood next to it.

The soft golden glow of the flickering lamplight illuminated the deft movements of her hands as she undid the buttons and hooks that held her gown together. Austin smiled and went to sit in a chair near the fireplace, his eyes never leaving her. The beautiful amethyst silk crumpled into a heap at her feet, and she gracefully stepped free of the shimmering mass. Next, the petticoats and crinolines fell into a crisp white pile, and she smiled, her expression faintly wicked with delight. He forced himself to remain still while she undid the hooks of her corset, her actions slow and deliberate. Her eyes never lost their hold on his, and she walked toward him, hips swaying seductively.

When she was standing directly in front of him, Austin smiled up at her. His look dropped, and his eyes locked on the thrusting peaks of her breasts, mere inches from his lips, nipples a soft shadow against the white of her chemise. She bent slightly and cupped his face in her hands as she leaned into a slow, exploring kiss. Austin's arms went around her, and he lifted her off her feet and sat her astride his thighs as he settled deeper into the armchair. The kiss went on forever and grew more intense with each tiny stroke of tongue they exchanged. When he thought he'd die for want of air, she drew away again and met his gaze.

Austin's smile became a grin when Chantille slipped the straps of her chemise off her shoulders, then tugged on the front of the thin garment. She peeled the material away from her skin, offering lush ivory breasts to him. He was only vaguely surprised when she took his hands, and kissed each palm before placing his eager fingers over the smooth swells of her flesh. She placed her own hands on his shoulders and slid closer to him, her thighs gliding against his.

She turned as she pushed closer, and her breath hissed from between her teeth when he licked slowly at the ripe nipple she'd all but guided to his lips. She kissed his temple and pressed against him until he took the hard point into his mouth and began to suckle. He repeated the erotic play, first lavishing attention to one nipple, then the other, encouraged by the soft moans that escaped Chantille as she rocked gently in his lap.



"Let me up?"

He leaned back in the chair and released her, curiosity holding his lust at bay for the moment.

She slid back, laughed shakily when her knees wobbled, then she walked a few steps from him. The light trailed her, seemed to be drawn to her within the room, and he watched with renewed fascination as she finished opening the chemise and tossed it aside.

She locked her gaze with his again for an instant, then smiled when his eyes followed the motion of her hands...

Thursday, December 26, 2013

A Family Needs Our Help! @KaydenMcLeod @DenyseBridger

First off, this is on the level, and not a scam of some kind. The Holidays often Bless us, but once in awhile, this season of generosity and kindness strikes a blow to friends that is harsh and unforgiving. My dear friend Kayden received bad news over the Holiday, and someone who means a lot to her needs help. Please read this, and if you can help in any way, even with something small, please do so:

Kayden wrote: Today I received some disheartening news. One of my good friends, Yvette, had been through a horrible Christmas morning. Her house burned down, leaving her and her family without anything over the holidays. 

The Red Cross answered their call, providing them with housing for a few days, but her need is great, as herself, her husband and seven children are without housing or clothing, with the exception of the donations of good people like ourselves, that are willing to reach out and provide for a family in great need.

I ask on behalf of these wonderful people, if you could extend a helping hand: clothes for the young children, donations of food or money to get them through this trying time. Even five dollars helps immensely. I know you don’t know them, but Yvette is a wonderful person who has never done wrong to anyone, and she and her family deserve the best of holidays. I have known her for so long, and she is a reviewer at our review site, Siren Book Reviews. Her adoration for the written word made us fast friends, and I even had the chance to have lunch with her during a trip to Florida, with one of her delightful children when he was an infant. My heart goes out to them, and I hope yours does too.

Please share this post, and tell your friends! Please read the following information for donations. Tomorrow Yvette is going to go out and open a PO Box so I can provide an address to send physical donations. So please keep an eye out for that update. For anyone who sends a donation, I offer you one of my e-books of your choice.

Send me an e-mail with your chosen title:
Yvette’s Paypal address is:

UPDATE TODAY: Today, I have compiled all of the information for donations to Yvette Mathews-Lowe and her family. On Christmas morning, the family’s home burned down. For the next three days, they have somewhere to stay, provided by the Red Cross.

We are trying to raise funds and collect donations of clothes, toys, books, games and food for the Lowe family during these trying times. Anything you can afford to give is greatly appreciated.

Anyone who donates $5.00 or more will receive e-books of their choice from Kayden McLeod, Nikki Noffsinger, Denysé Bridger, and Lady Bee Publishing. Please contact Kayden McLeod once you have confirmed a donation at:

Yvette’s Paypal address:

Address for physical donations:

Yvette Mathews-Lowe
PO Box 102
Mountain City TN 37683

Clothes sizes and ages:
Abby (Girl)
Age: 8 months old
Clothes size: 6/9 months

Shawn (boy)
Age: 3 y/o
Clothes size: 4T (boy)

Ty (boy)
Age: 5 y/o
Clothes size: 6T (boy)

Paige (girl)
Age: 8 y/o
Clothes size: 12/14 

Curtis (boy)
Age: 12 y/o
Clothes size: 30/30- adult med shirt

Tristan (boy)
Age: 16 y/o
Clothes size: 30/32--adult med shirt

Clothes size: XL shirt and 16/18 pants

Thank you for helping!

Sunday, December 22, 2013

The Gates of Infinity (Pirate fantasy / erotic) #RomFantasy

The Gates of Infinity
Genre: Erotic Pirate Fantasy (novella)

Available from:

THE GATES OF INFINITY lead to a different world where passion and deception may yet destroy two universes about to collide. Will time continue to turn upon itself, or will the mirror of our world open the gate and return stranded pirates and their sorcerous consorts to familiar shores?

The story poem that begins the novella:


ocean kissed sands wink diamonds into the night
the whisper of waves caresses nerves taut with panic
the sea-foam surf is a balm to troubled spirits
and the abyss of down-soft waters beckons as a lover’s embrace

out there, somewhere, is a ship
using stars to guide a course to infinity
eternity, too, has a path to follow
and a destiny to fulfill

standing on the rooftop of a once-thriving inn
I wonder at the fate that pulls me ever closer to death
isolation has become a way of life, my existence
against all my efforts to turn away from the void before me

the sea calls to me, pulls at my soul with seductive purpose
I hear voices carried on the misted winds
promises that I can’t quite define
but which haunt my heart and inflict greater agonies

I turn away to pursue the sandman of my dreams
despite the knowledge that there will be no respite there
no escape from transient demons and specters
no shelter in the arms of Morpheus

eyes close and breaths lengthen and deepen
then he comes to me, the devil who torments my being
with sensuous murmurs and erotic promises
he shows me what my life is without, what I deny within myself

the dream begins.....

the gentle sway of the ship is the rhythm of passion and sex
the lap of waves the stroke of a lover’s tongue over a swell of quivering flesh
the surge of the tide is his possession of my eager body
the fall befits our writhing ascent into heaven

who are you? I ask in mystified wonder
am I afraid of his answer, or anticipating it?
he laughs, a hearty, faintly mocking reverberation of humor
and my blood runs cold, then hot with rage

he is magnificent, this proud pirate who steals
with the exquisite skill of a thieving seducer claiming his virgin prize
dark hair streams and smoky eyes gleam with anticipation
and this is what I have been born to desire?

lover.... friend.... enemy.... destiny....
his hands have taught me love and pain
his heart has scarred me with hatred and unbearable pleasure

mentor.... destroyer.... confidant.... father....
you drove me to his arms, intent on betrayal
and in the end it was I who was betrayed, by myself

he touched me, and I was whole in his hands,
balanced on the edge of discovery and despair
I went willingly to his bed and his heart
asked desperately to remain prisoner to his destiny

he kissed me, a soft caress that vowed so much more would follow
and I stood before him, naked in all ways, desiring
things I could not yet name, but knew within me
and he held me with his gaze, searching for deceit, finding only trust

his hands stripped me of everything, while giving everything back
his mouth, soft, wet, suckling at my breast, gave me the taste of euphoria
hot, rigid velvet sheathed within my clutching body tortured me with ecstasy
and his possession defined my being and made me what I am

sorceress.... companion.... seer.... hope....
I am Mahjrah’s mate, and his life is mine, as mine is his
though we both have often wished it were not so

and I have betrayed my beloved captain.....

comrade.... strength.... protector.... deception....
what we did was wrong, yet it, too, was predestined in so many ways
Mahjrah made you my champion, and that story is as old as time itself

and now I stand before him again, waiting and afraid
trembling with need and terror, and reawakened love
yes, I love you, Mahjrah, always and only you
and somewhere inside you, I feel the poison of my treachery

you are uncertain, even as you stand solid and ever strong
the serpent of doubt and suspicion has bitten deep
that venom mingles with the heart’s blood of our bond
and I do not know which will emerge as the stronger power

still, you have taken me again, in passion and welcome
my body has been reclaimed, even as my spirit hides in shame
try as I may, I cannot forget the rapture that you gave me
and all I am able to offer you now is the frightened shell I have become

you deserve far better, you have asked for little,
given everything without question or price
until now, when a challenge far greater than others removes our choices
now you charge me with the task of finding our home

I have always thought my home was in your eyes
but the romanticism of that whimsy is a joke in the face of this harsh reality
you demand a gateway to another life
and I must find a way to obey this command

our world....
close enough to touch, to feel....
the parallel of this prison in which we have been trapped.....

Part Two: a short scene...

The moon shone silver across the restless waters of the cove, casting spectral shadows of ice into the endless ripples of the current. Sitting alone on the shore, Veranna stared at the magical night-scape and felt despair engulf her anew. They’d been stranded for eternal weeks, and no member of the crew looked upon her with warmth or friendliness now. Except the Captain, Mahjrah’s eyes held unflinching kindness and undeniable love. Her salvation, she knew.

She shifted her line of vision and shivered when her eyes came into contact with the repaired ship anchored in the small harbor. The mast stretched upward and the rigging stood starkly outlined, a wraith-like silhouette against the glowing orb sweeping steadily across the sky. The Scarab waited with patience her crew did not possess. Waited for her to summon knowledge and power she no longer controlled.

“Mahjrah’s looking for you.”

Startled, Veranna turned, and sighed inwardly at the cool masque of Doren’s indifference.

“I’m afraid, Doren,” she murmured without conscious thought.

Anger sparked in his eyes and she flinched. His expression softened with regret an instant later and he sat next to her.

“We’re all afraid, Veri,” he confessed with clear reluctance.

“I can’t imagine you, or Ehtionne, feeling fear.” She smiled in spite of herself.

“Everyone’s afraid of something, Veranna,” he chided. “Even Mahjrah.”

“You say that as if I should know your fear, but not his.”

“You’ve seen my fear, Veri,” he muttered, voice tinged with bitterness. “Even if you don’t remember it just now.”

He added the last with self-deprecating irony, and she felt a tremor begin deep within her. It burned through her with shocking speed, leaving her quivering against all she didn’t know.

“What is he searching for that I am supposed to know about?”

“Ask him,” Doren told her candidly. “Maybe that’s what he wants to talk to you about now?”

Suspicion flared in her dark eyes and he laughed at her.

“He doesn’t tell me what he wants from you, Veranna,” he said with a hint of derision.

“I suppose he doesn’t really have to, does he?” she retorted and rose. “He wants the same thing the rest of you want, the impossible.” She strode away, angered beyond reason by the exchange. She was still scowling when she found Mahjrah further down the shore.

The tall captain watched her approach, his expression guarded, but curious.

“You look as if you wish to kill someone, lady,” he remarked.

“Perhaps I do,” she replied, looking past his shoulder to the men who were standing a short distance from them. “What is it you want, Mahjrah?” she asked, suddenly weary.

“Darius is near, Veranna,” he said quietly, very serious now. “We need an escape from this place before Isiress pinpoints our location.”

“Isiress can control her magic, Ehtionne,” Veranna reminded him, uncomfortably aware of the many ears listening to their words. “I have no such strength. You ask what I cannot give.”

Dark eyes glittered like onyx in the flickering flames of the torches that had been lit. Veranna held her breath, waiting for anger, hoping desperately for understanding.

Slowly, Mahjrah nodded. He went to take her by the elbow, then led her toward the small circle of huts they’d erected for the duration of their stay on the isle. When they reached the relative privacy of their quarters, he sat her down and knelt before her.

“I know you can defeat this sorceress who guards The Pharaoh’s Ghost,” he began firmly, but gently. “But you must know it, too, my lady,” he continued, tone pitched to a sensual purr of sound. “You possess great power and knowledge, Veranna, and we need both while we are so vulnerable.”

“I’ve been trying, Mahjrah,” she assured him. “I want to help you!”

He considered her words with a seriousness that inexorably woke fear as she waited for him to voice whatever dark thoughts were creating such fierceness in his handsome features. When his low, gravel-textured voice finally stirred the air between them, she trembled.

“We need to take a great risk, love,” he began ominously. “One that may be our last hope of recovering your lost memory.” Dark eyes clashed as he forced her to meet his stare. “Do you trust our bonds, Veranna?”

It seemed a totally inappropriate question, and that, too, frightened her for eternal seconds as he awaited her reply. Unable to form the words, she nodded mutely, the response an intuitive answer born in her heart. He accepted her nod after only a second’s hesitation, then rose and left. A moment later, she heard his strong voice shouting for Doren. Hugging herself tightly, she listened as Mahjrah ordered his mate to bring Veranna’s trunk from the ship. When he re-entered the hut again short minutes later, Mahjrah carried a silver bowl etched with magical rhunes and filled with ashes. Behind him, Gianni came in with hands full of the mystical candles. He put them next to the bowl that Mahjrah had placed in the center of the hut’s rough floor, then he left them without a word.

“Tell me what you remember,” Mahjrah ordered.

“Place the candles that contain sky, earth and fire in a circle around us,” she replied without thought. His smile was an encouragement she responded to, and she continued quickly, lest she lose the precious strand of knowledge. “Strength, divination, and earth power.”

Mahjrah did as she requested, and by the time he was done, Doren and Marcello had retrieved the heavy case that had a permanent place beneath the captain’s bunk. Doren looked Veranna, his doubt clear, but he held his silence. Moments later, the captain and his lover were alone again.

“Choose your magic, lady,” he said and indicated the case that stood inside the doorway. “I fear that we have little time.”

Trusting to instinct once again, Veranna rose and went to the case. She opened it, and inhaled the enticing aroma of spices and herbs, and the tingle of mystical power that emanated from things hidden in the lowest levels of the case. As before, music was an undercurrent that guided her, attuned her to the very earth on which she stood. She lifted the upper tray of items and looked into the more powerful objects held in the chest. Mahjrah’s hand reached past hers, and he retrieved a key from the corner, a key that was gold on one side, and silver on the other, perfectly melded together, each side carrying the symbols that were on the coins contained in the chest they guarded. The key dangled from a cord made of strands of hair, hers and his, entwined with ribbons of blue and ebony, the colors of their eyes; he slipped it over her head and smiled when it came to rest just above the shadow between her breasts.

Aphrodeesia enchantrae,” he whispered roughly, his hands gliding over her back, before he moved to stand behind her and cup full breasts as he began to nuzzle her neck.

Shaking with another layer of emotion now, Veranna reached for the requested amalgam. She sucked in a rasp of air when the pressure of his hands increased and his sure fingers teased already straining nipples to greater sensitivity. Guided by instinct, she let the powder fall into the silver bowl, mingling with the ashes that would stir to life and reawaken her memories. The music that symbolized her power began to rise and find voice inside her.

Available from:

Friday, December 20, 2013

TRIAD OF POWER: First Quest #RomFantasy

A few years ago I released a book called Royal Consort. It was a fun title, and combined my love of fantasy with my love of romance with an erotic touch. Somehow, I never found the right publisher for the book, and it just sort of died. Back in January, I requested return of the book, and it has since undergone a major revision to become book one in a trilogy. THE TRIAD OF POWER: First Quest released officially on December 22nd, and this is the official cover reveal and sneak peek at my next release. I'm really enjoying this story now that's it's been revised and edited, and leading to two more adventures. I hope you enjoy a peek at it, too!

First Quest
Crimson Frost Books

Available Now at:

Publisher  |  ARe Romance Books  |  Amazon

As contented peace steeped the air around them, and they were able to breathe in near silence again, Sherindal contemplated her surroundings. On her knees, with the Prince of Ember still sheathed within her, she had never known a moment of more perfect serenity and completion. Her senses hummed with awareness of everything: the texture of the bed linen, cool silk, caressing her heated skin, the subtle patterns swirling amid the tapestries that hung on the stone walls of the bedchamber, even the heavy scent of candle wax addeding another layer of appreciation to her happiness.

“You really are magnificent, Sher,” Rienn whispered, his arms wrapped around her, drawing her close.

She leaned to one side, looped her arm around his neck and drew his mouth to hers in a kiss that was filled with gentle passion.

“I do love you, Rienn.”

Rienn nodded. His hands on her waist moved her. She shivered as he slipped free of her. “I’ll order a bath and some food,” he told her.

She grabbed his wrist and shook her head. “Later. I want you to hold me.”

Rienn stretched out and pulled her down to him, spooning her body to his when he pressed her back to his chest.

They’d only slept for minutes when the huge doors of the Prince’s chambers were flung open and the spacious room was invaded by numerous men, all bearing swords.


The word was a warning, and Sherindal slithered from the bed when he released her. She scooped up her weapon as she rolled, oblivious to her nakedness. She whirled to face the first rush of the attack. Somewhere through the early morning hours since they’d made love, Rienn had thought to retrieve his breeches, she noted from the corner of her eye. He had managed to gain his weapon, and they fought, back to back.

Sherindal hissed in fury and pain when the second of the men who engaged her slipped past her defense and inflicted a wound near her waist. It was a surface injury and she quickly rewarded him by slicing off his sword hand. Howling in agony, he toppled back, then fled as he recovered his footing several feet away from her.

Rienn had killed two men and was about to run through the third when Sherindal’s voice filled the room, and the blade she wielded, Huntor, rose with her song. The attackers froze momentarily, those two who remained, and she smiled when the weapon cut them down, then drifted back to her outstretched hand, coming to rest in her grasp with near peaceful ease.

“Your blood-thirsty weapon has been sated nicely this morning,” Rienn observed with a tense glance at the gleaming blade.

“Who are they?” she asked, her tone cold as she met his gaze.

“Why would you assume I know?” he retorted instantly. “This is hardly what I would consider an invigorating start to the day!”

“Really?” One eyebrow rose in emphasis of her sardonic tone.  “It is one of the more interesting diversions you might have provided, Rienn.” Her laughter was faintly mocking, and not a little bit ironic.

Rienn’s handsome features suffused with rage and he reached for her, gripped her bare arm with fingers that dug into her flesh like steel bands.

“You can be an evil bitch,” he whispered darkly.

Sherindal smiled, and this time it was genuine. She nodded, kissed his chin, the closest she could get to his mouth from her disadvantaged height, then she gasped as a fiery lance reminded her of the slash near her left hip.

“Enough, Rienn,” she said.

He released her, scooped her into his arms, and placed her in the center of the feathered mattress of his bed. He looked closely at the injury, yanked the bell pull, and then went to the heavy wardrobe at the far end of the chamber.

His guards were rushing along the corridor when he returned to the bed and helped Sherindal into one of his linen shirts. She bit her bottom lip against another stab of pain and laughed in macabre amusement when she spotted the duo who entered the room.

“They look rested enough, my love,” she muttered.

Rienn glared at her, then turned an even fiercer visage to the men who should have prevented the assault in his private rooms.

“Get them out of here, then report to Radisan.”

“Radisan will no doubt beat the life out of them, Rienn,” she remarked. “Your brother is overzealous when it comes to punishment. He enjoys watching other people writhe, especially when he is the orchestrator of their anguish.”

“Would you rather I reward them for their lapse?” he snapped. “We could have been killed, Sher!”

“Highly unlikely. Get me my own clothes,” she requested. “I want to dress.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he warned from his position near the door. As the two guards dragged the last of the fallen men into the hall, he slammed the door into place and speared his lover with a look that frequently froze men in their tracks. Sherindal rose from the bed to retrieve her belongings.


She sighed and began to apply salve from the small medicine kit she carried. When the wound was smeared with the peach-colored cream, she wrapped clean linen around her hips, then continued to dress. Dark brown trousers, forest green tunic, black boots and vest, and lastly the sword, in a sheath that she wore at her back, the glittering hilt visible between her shoulders when she faced the Prince again.

“Rienn,” she said gently. “I would not leave you if it wasn’t necessary. This is something I must do. I have no choice!”

Rienn’s unusual eyes flared with anger, and he strode toward her, stopping when her head moved so that she might hold his look. He towered over her, and often used that height to keep her off balance when they were this close. She had told him that he was a drug she was addicted to, and the sensuality of their passion had grown with their aging. She would have made a perfect queen, but his father had long ago threatened Rienn with banishment if he took Sherindal as his wife. The old man had said on many occasions he would hold the throne forever from Rienn if he dared to believe a witch would be an appropriate queen for Ember. Sherindal seemed more than happy to be his consort, with none of the advantages that position could have offered.

Ironically, by his own decree, Rienn’s father had also insured he’d never have the grandchildren he desired, for Rienn would not betray his love for Sherindal by accepting another woman in his bed. The King believed that to be one more proof of Sher’s sorcery, her hold on the oldest son of Ember’s Royal House. Love was an emotion the old man mocked and disdained, and one he had never understood. Rienn’s mother had died many years earlier, and they had been closer than many sons and mothers. They had been friends and confidants. The Queen had approved completely of Rienn’s choice of mate.

“I have no choice.”

Available Now at:

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Dying To Love Her @_DanaLorraine #RomFantasy @DenyseBridger

Happy Holidays! I’m Dana Lorraine, writer of sexy words and dreamer of hunky men. Thanks Denysé for letting me invade your blog for the day to introduce myself to your readers.

So I wrote this little book—Dying to Love Her. It’s kind of naughty (shh, don’t tell my mom). It’s a paranormal erotic m/f/m ménage published by Ellora’s Cave. I really tried to be a good girl and pick just one hunky skyscraper of vampire flesh to write about but it was impossible so I gave my curvy heroine two.

Here’s the blurb:

When Melanie Woodson joins Empriva Fitness she expects to lose weight, not gain two sexy vampire personal trainers. With an exercise regimen that includes passionate horizontal workouts, fat-burning orgasms and lusty words of encouragement, she’s in serious danger of forgetting their relationship is based on a business agreement and not mutual attraction.

Alec Kosta and Rook Abernathy, best friends and owners of Empriva, have waited over a century for the right lifemate to come along. Now that they’ve found Melanie, with her endless curves and quick wit, they’re ready to give up countless lifetimes to spend just one with her.

But time isn’t on their side—they’ve tasted her blood and now mere days are all they have to convince her their love is real or risk losing their chance to be with her forever.

A Romantica® paranormal ménage erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Uh-huh—you read it right. My vamps suck and fuck the pounds away. No more dieting or unpleasant exercising. No more stuffing your butt and thighs into unforgiving work-out clothes. You’re ready to sign up for a lifetime membership…right?

When I’m not thinking of vampire personal trainer manwiches there are a few other pairs of men out there that set my imagination on fire. Thought I’d include a sampling of my fantasy ménages so you can get to know me a little better.

Yes—this is dangerously close to TMI but I like to share.

Post-Apocalyptic Manwich: Daryl Dixon and Shane Walsh from The Walking Dead. This is my favorite show on TV and I was always on bad boy Shane’s team. Between him and rednecktastic Daryl I’d find a way to cope with the end of the world.

Mutant Manwich: Michael Fassbender and James McAvoy from X-Men First Class playing the younger versions of Magneto and Professor X. Oh what the hell—the more the merrier—let’s throw in Hugh Jackman (Wolverine) into the mix. Psst…by the way my vamps are more like mutants and less like soulless creatures of the night.

Straight-For-Me Manwich: Matthew Bomer and Matthew Bomer. That’s right…one of him would be great but two would be better. I’d clone him. He’s puuuuurfect!

Bromance Manwich: Chris Pine and Tom Hardy from This Means War. I’ve seen this movie more times than I can count. Love it! Hardy’s pucker-perfect lips make me think of my hero Rook and Pine’s piercing eyes are just like Alec’s.

I could go on and on but then I’d probably just embarrass myself when I revealed my nerd manwich so I’ll stop right now. If you have the time, visit my website,, to watch my book trailer for Dying to Love Her!

Happy Reading!

About the Author:

Dana Lorraine never dreamed she’d grow up to be a writer. A voracious reader of romance, one day she decided to write one of her own. And now she never wants to stop. Paranormal, sci-fi or contemporary, ménage or one-on-one, don’t ask her to limit herself to just one type because she loves them all.

She makes killer meatballs, loves to reread her favorite romances and likes any drink served with an umbrella. A bookseller by day and mother of two wonderful daughters all the time, you’ll find Dana sweet-talking her husband into doing laundry and bringing home take-out so she has more time to write.

Check out the books here:

Author Links:

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Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Sci-Fi With Sizzle Tour and Giveaway!

Tour long Giveaway:

Grand: $75 in GC's ($25 for ARe and $50 for Amazon or B&N)
1st: $25 Loose ID GC and Lolita Lopez swag pack
2nd: $25 Amazon and A.M. Griffin swag pack

Dates: 12/1/2013 through 12/31/2013

You can only pick 3 words to describe your main characters, what would they be?
Loyal. Passionate. Fun.


I'm just your everyday dirty-book-writing mama. I live in Texas with my Viking throwback husband and a mischievous preschooler. You can find me online at and on Facebook ( My newsletter ( provides updates on new releases, free reads and other cool stuff.

I also write scorching hot romances with a dash of suspense and plenty of sexy tattooed bad boys as Roxie Rivera(
) including the bestselling Her Russian Protector series and the Fighting Connollys trilogy.


Grabbed, Book Three

To escape her father's debt to a loan shark, Dizzy seeks refuge in the upcoming Grab. She’d rather belong to one of those terrifying sky warriors from the battleship Valiant than to the sleazy criminal who wants her as his plaything.

The years of constant war haven’t been kind to highly decorated sniper Venom. Only the promise of earning a wife kept him going through deadly battles. Catching and collaring Dizzy fills him with incredible hope. Finally he has a woman of his own, a mate to love—and bind and adorn with his ropes.

After a brazen Splinter attack, the Shadow Force uncovers secrets about Dizzy’s late mother that entangle her in a web of deceit. To save Venom, her father and an operative named Terror, Dizzy digs deep and risks it all.

Venom refuses to stand idly by while Dizzy’s haunted past threatens the future they’re trying to build. He finally has a reason for living—and he’s not giving her up.

Read an excerpt

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You can only pick 3 words to describe your main characters, what would they be?

Ruthless – In the previous three stories in the Barbarian Claims series (Warlord’s Bounty, Warlord Unarmed, Warlord Reunited), Tolui was the baddie. The other Warlords viewed him as being ruthless and self-serving. They interpreted his aggressive actions as being about him, about his need for power. In Warlord’s Mercy, reading buddies discover that yes, Tolui is ruthless but he has a very good reason to be ruthless.

Clone – Tolui is a clone. In the Chamele system, cloning is a crime, and clones are outlaws. He’s been told that clones can’t have mates, can’t have natural children, can’t be loved. He has lived his life assuming none of this is possible. When he meets Lea, he discovers that everything he knows about clones is a lie.

Survivor—Lea, the heroine of Warlord’s Mercy, is a survivor. She changes with her circumstances, finding her place on even the most hostile planet with the fiercest Warlord.


Cynthia Sax lives in a world where demons aren’t all bad, angels aren’t all good, and magic happens every single day. Although her heroes may not always say, “I love you”, they will do anything for the women they love. They live passionately. They fight fiercely. They love the same women forever.

Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of research, while they travel the world together, meeting fascinating people and finding inspiration in exotic places such as Istanbul, Bali, and Chicago.



Tolui, a clone of a powerful Warlord, is a male without a homeland or a future. Doomed to never mate, he ruthlessly wages war, seeking to give his clone brothers a planet system to call their own, a place where they can live without persecution.

When Tolui crashes on a deserted planet and meets a small human female, he discovers everything he knows about clones is a lie. Lea, his destined mate, frees the passion he’s suppressed over his lifetime. He wants her. He needs her. He’ll do anything to bond with her.

But he won’t share her. Tolui’s greatest battle will be the fight for Lea’s heart. To win her love, he’ll face hundreds of his clone brothers, men who look exactly like him.

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You can only pick 3 words to describe your main characters, what would they be?

Rasha – warrior, strong, loyal
Jess – strong, fragile, determined
Rasha is a warrior and all of what the term encompasses. He is strong in mind and body. He is a loyal friend and he is loyal to the emotions that he has toward Jess.

Jess has been sold to a brothel and escaped. She is strong willed and has a strong sense of self to have survived what she has gone through. She’s fragile because she still has nightmares and flashbacks of what she’s gone through. She’s determined because she has taken steps to move on with her life and start again.


A. M. Griffin is a wife who rarely cooks, mother of three, dog owner (and sometimes dog owned), a daughter, sister, aunt and friend. She's a hard worker whose two favorite outlets are reading and writing. She enjoys reading everything from mystery novels to historical romances and of course fantasy romance. She is a believer in the unbelievable, open to all possibilities from mermaids in our oceans and seas, angels in the skies and intelligent life forms in distant galaxies.

For more information please visit


Loving Dangerously, Book Three

Jess hates aliens. After the invasion that destroyed Earth, the extraterrestrial bastards sold her to a brothel as a sex slave. She may have escaped but the old memories and fears still linger in the dark corners of her mind. Supposedly Sonis is just the place for her—somewhere safe, where she can heal and start fresh. She’s almost hopeful…until she meets Rasha, her new boss.

Rasha, captain of the Sonis Royal Guard, is a warrior through and through. He’s huge, sinfully sexy and could have any woman on Sonis—but the woman he wants is Jess. He’s very much an alien and Jess knows she should hate him or at least be wary, but whenever he’s around, she loses control. She tells herself it’s only sex—amazing, mind-blowing sex like nothing else she’s ever experienced—but there’s something about Rasha that shakes her soul. The feel of his skin against hers, the look in his eyes as he touches her—they make her want to believe it’s possible to find love and begin again.

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You can only pick 3 words to describe your main characters, what would they be?

Dak – powerful, besieged, alone
Omra – vulnberable, strong, catalyst
Corren – ambitious, driven, bitter


Cara Bristol has written everything from mainstream long and short fiction to nonfiction magazine and newspaper articles. She sold her first erotic romance in 2009. Now multi-published, she has ten erotic romances and two anthologies to her name. The author of the popular Rod and Cane Society domestic discipline series, Cara writes spanking fiction most often, but her published works also include contemporary and paranormal erotic romances. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, traveling, and watching reality TV shows.  Breeder is her first science fiction novel and the start of a series. She lives in the Midwest United States with her husband

Twitter  @CaraBristol


To secure his legacy, Commander Dak, a ruling Alpha of planet Parseon, purchases Omra, a breeder slave. He intends to impregnate her, produce a son, and hand her off to his anointed beta partner. As Dak and Omra discover a sexual bliss banned by law, he begins to question the traditions and ways of his people, causing him to jeopardize his command and endanger the life of the woman he has come to love.

Breeder contains M/F and M/M sexual practices and domestic discipline.

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