Saturday, June 28, 2014

The Rules of Writing #RomFantasy

Write what you know. Write every day. Write for yourself. Change this. Learn that… Then do it all over again. A few times. This is the glamorous world of writing at its’ core. All the learning is on-going. It never really lets up if you are a writer who respects and understands craft–and yes, despite the shoddy way it is often treated, writing IS considered to be a craft, or an art.

There are endless ways to address writing, some that give it an air of mystery, or glamorize what is often a very lonely and personal process for most of us. You’ll see phrases like “show, don’t tell” a lot. References made to a writer’s “voice” – like it’s something Divine or magical. Some banter about monikers like “natural writer” because the stories come as easily as drawing breath – while others struggle to dredge up one solid idea that can be hammered into a story plot.

But, what does any of it really mean? I have collected about a thousand dollars worth of writing guides over the past two years – 50/50 split between paper and eBooks. A few nights ago I forced myself NOT to buy yet another guide, despite the high recommendation it was given. Why? Well, I’ve come to the sad but real conclusion that all this study has not only slowed my writing process, it’s pretty much strangled my voice and joy of creating stories. It’s ironic in one sense because years ago I used to get asked a lot if I had studied creative writing, or gone to school to learn to write. No on both counts – I told many people that sitting in on one “writing course” class was all it took to convince me that being told how to construct sentences and what “rules” should always be observed was the quickest way to silence the stories before they ever stirred to life.

Good editors and writers all know that the only honest and real rule is there are no rules so etched in stone that they can’t be broken or ignored entirely. Writing is like the flow of a river, shifting, rushing, always moving forward to a destination. Rules are like dams – they slow the progress, but they can’t really stop the inevitable burst that will open the floodgates, figuratively speaking, of course.

I like good editors, they teach and draw out your inner visions, sometimes showing you things you didn’t see yourself in the rush of white-water rafting that was your first draft creation. LISTEN to those editors, they care about your story. There’s more to editing than typos, grammar, and rearranging words. Editors who chop out blocks of your text, and expect to be the final word on your story are honestly full of shit for the most part and should be avoided. The story is yours – work with a builder, not a wrecking ball.

Tons of advice out there. You can read and learn forever – which means you’ll never write that book. If you don’t draw the line and just do the writing, you can’t really call yourself a writer. Writer-in-waiting maybe, but you’re the only one who’ll know that.

So, break a few rules, make a few rules, bend a few rules. Do whatever works for you. Don’t write what you know, write what you feel – what pushes and inspires you. Toss your baby out of the nest and into the world. Then – start all over again! That’s the only way to do this gig.

Good luck, and happy writing!!


Wednesday, June 25, 2014

New Release: Taking Eve @TinaDonahue

TAKING EVE
by Tina Donahue

BUY IT HERE

A willing slave to possession, punishment, pleasure…

Dreams of a manor where submission and dominance once ruled draws Faith to hypnotherapist Colin Danes. Potently virile, he looks remarkably like her most cherished master from a past life. Desire smolders in his eyes, proving he’s never forgotten her.

Their carnal dance continues in the present and leads to their past when she was known as Eve. Through hypnotherapy, Colin brings her back to the Victorian era, a hidden estate where she eagerly submits to whatever he and her other noble masters crave. The exquisite discipline of the strap. Being bid on and mounted each night. Displayed and used for the enjoyment of all.

Most will take her. One will try to imprison her. Only he will be her true master in that life and this.

Excerpt:

The advertisement challenged, Are your dreams so real they seem to have come from another time?

Faith Montgomery gripped the mail circular. Its paper made a sharp, crackling noise, no different from ice snapping. 

Frigid wind swept past, delivering more snow. Feverish and unsettled, Faith stood in front of the medical arts building that catered to doctors, nutritionists, shrinks and hypnotherapists. Unlike Seattle’s typical brick or glass structures, this place had a granite façade and steepled ceilings. Similar to a castle where dominance, submission and punishment played out. Where men wore dated clothing, while women were nude, defenseless, sighing then crying out their arousal and pleasure. 

Her mouth went dry. 

From behind, a car’s horn blared, sending her pulse into a faster sprint. Traffic continued to crawl along the slick streets, headlights brushed past, illuminating the building’s directory. Faith didn’t bother to search it. According to the circular, his office was on the second floor. Her appointment in a few minutes, made earlier in the week by phone. The first time she’d heard his voice and yet not the first time.

“Why do you want an appointment?” he’d asked.

Something inside her had fluttered at his smooth baritone, enticing and strangely familiar, reducing her to silence.

“You’ve seen things,” he’d coaxed. “Felt things.”

God, yeah. 

While he’d waited for her response, she’d stared at his picture on the glossy flyer.

Several locks of his hair—thick, wavy, the color of espresso—grazed his forehead. His strong, masculine features were handsome as hell, nearly aristocratic. In her mind, Faith saw him dressed in eveningwear, the kind worn during the early Victorian era. A coat with tails, snug at the waist to accentuate his impressive shoulders. Dark trousers and a shockingly white cravat. Identical to heroes in romance novels that she’d read in high school.

He definitely had those guys beat. 

His long-lashed eyes were a striking blue. Even from the picture, they stripped Faith of all privacy, reaching into her soul, the same as the promise of his full, rich mouth. A hint of stubble graced his upper lip, chin and cheeks, virile and tempting. Young, possibly early thirties, he was the kind of man a woman wouldn’t forget.

Faith certainly hadn’t.

“Yeah,” she’d murmured during the call, at last answering him. “I’ve had recurring dreams, flashes of another time.” 

You.

Rather than questioning her further, he’d given her the last appointment of the day, well past the time other professionals did business. His office windows were the only ones lit on the second floor, the lights’ golden glow spilling onto the street. Waves of snow, carried by the wind, twinkled like stars within the brightness.

Faith half-expected—and fully hoped—he’d be at the window, looking down at her. Watching. Waiting. Anticipating as she was.

He wasn’t. 

His absence only stoked her stark need. Clearly, he had no doubt she’d keep their appointment. Now, as before, he commanded and figured she’d obey.

On an edgy sigh, she entered the building. Heated air and the scents of polished wood, leather, wool washed over her. In the absolute quiet, she heard each click of her heels across the floor, a dark-green marble veined with white.

Faith avoided slick spots made by others who’d come and gone, tracking in the snow. She should have worn more practical shoes in this weather, pants instead of a skirt, but hadn’t, sensing he wouldn’t have approved.

Like one possessed—or commanded by a Master—Faith climbed the stairs, reaching the second floor. The walls were paneled in polished walnut, which gave them the air of a private club where men called the shots. Their decisions law. Their desires the only rule that counted, no matter what they demanded. A woman’s full surrender to their needs. Having her down on her knees before them, her lips parted for the taste of a thickened cock or to release her whimper of delight at the strap one of them held, eager for him to discipline her.

Lightheaded and breathless, she stared at the hall. His office was at the end, the door open, a wedge of amber light demanding she go inside.

No receptionist greeted her in the snug waiting room. Faith hadn’t expected one, figuring he’d want them to be alone. Exactly what she craved.

She inhaled as deeply as she could. Leather from the burgundy chairs perfumed the small space, claiming it for a man. Beyond the reception area was his office, the door open. He stood at his desk, his attention on a book he read.

Her legs went watery. With indecent curiosity, she drank him in, the charcoal sweater and dark trousers that matched the color of his silky hair and fit his powerful frame so well. Broad shoulders. Muscular thighs. She forced down a swallow, knowing there was raw power in his strong hands. She’d dreamed of it, had seen glimpses in her mind.

And would do anything to experience it again.

As though he’d heard her thoughts, he closed his book with a faint snap and looked up.

Time shifted, the past bleeding into the present. Faith forgot to breathe or to step closer, trapped within his potent gaze, overwhelmed with a sense of recognition, irresistible and welcoming.

I know you…you know me.

Unmistakable longing flared in his eyes, the same yearning she felt. Beneath it was a flash of lust.

BIO:

Tina Donahue is an award-winning, bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance for Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Siren Publishing, and Kensington. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three of her erotic romances (Adored, Lush Velvet Nights, and Deep, Dark, Delicious) were named finalists in the 2011 EPIC competition. The French review site, Blue Moon reviews, chose her erotic romance Sensual Stranger as their Book of the Year 2010 (erotic category). The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for Lush Velvet Nights, and two of her titles (The Yearning and Deep, Dark, Delicious) received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition (2011 and 2012). Take Me Away and Adored both won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina is featured in the 2012 Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. She was the editor of an award–winning Midwestern newspaper and worked in Story Direction for a Hollywood production company.


Connect with Tina:


CONTEST

Please leave a comment. Tina will be choosing one winner randomly from the comments section. The winner gets her choice of one of Tina’s backlist ebooks – FIFTEEN IN ALL – contemporary, paranormal, suspense, ménage. From this list:

1. Adored – RWA award-winning; EPIC 2011 Finalist; 4 Stars RT
2. Deep, Dark, Delicious – EPIC 2011 Finalist; Holt Medallion Award of Merit
3. Lush Velvet Nights – EPIC 2011 Finalist; Golden Nib Award
4. In His Arms – SIX 5 Star Reviews; 4 Stars RT
5. Sensual Stranger – 2010 Book of the Year (erotic); 4 Stars RT
6. The Yearning – Top Ten Bestseller
7. Take Me Away – #1 Pick, Miz Love Loves Books
8. Unending Desire – Best Book Rating LASR
9. SiNN – Nominated for Book of the Week LASR
10. Sinfully Wicked – Magnificent – Romancing the Book
11. Claiming Magique – Top Pick – NOR
12. Illicit Desire – Four Stars Romantic Times
13. Come Fill Me – Five Stars – Guilty Pleasures
14. Losing Control - Four and a Half Stars - Sensual Reads
15. Shameless Desire - Four and Half Stars - The Jeep Diva


Heart Knot Blog Tour @LilyVelden @pumpupyourbook


Heart Knot Mine Blog Tour

About the Author

Lily Velden lives on the east coast of Australia, her family having emigrated from Holland when she was a child.
She’s both a left and right brain person, holding qualifications in both Finance and Fine Arts. She tells her friends that her way with numbers will make her a profitable artist and writer… one day.
Lily has always had a love of language and a beautifully crafted sentence, and admits to having a fetish for collecting quotes, poems, and song lyrics. What she won’t admit to is how many notebooks she’s filled with those quotes… Her fascination carries on into her artworks where she often incorporates text. When a shoulder injury slowed down her art practice she decided to explore her love of the written word more fully and began writing. “I’ll paint my pictures with words.” 
Not that she’s abandoned artmaking in its entirety—Lily collaborates on the designs for all her book covers.
There are many things Lily loves, here are just a few of the PG rated ones: a good laugh (all the better if caused by a naughty joke), the smell of freshly baked goods and mown grass, a smile from a stranger, rainbows after the rain, and witnessing a promise kept.
Her latest book is the M/M Contemporary Romance, Heart Knot Mine.

Has writing been something you always did, or was it a discovered talent that came to you at a later point?

I’ve always written, starting with short stories that I’d illustrate when I was a child, but it wasn’t something I thought I’d pursue as a career. For me, it was something to amuse myself with, and as I grew older, to share with family and friends.

It was only after a car accident where I injured my neck and shoulders that I devoted more time to it. After I’d written approximately two-thirds of a novel I showed it to a friend and she encouraged me to finish it and submit it to a publisher. The rest, as they say, is history.
Now, I’m obsessed with writing!

Do you remember how it felt when you were offered that first contract? What emotions stand out in your memory?

The wait time from submission to the yay or nay would have to be one of the hardest waits I’ve ever had to endure. It is truly excruciating.

When I woke up one morning about eight weeks after submitting my manuscript and checked my emails and saw a message from the publishing house, I started to shake. I must admit, I was too scared to open it at first.

I dealt with every other email first and each time I went back to the inbox the publisher’s email seemed to grow in size. Even with all my emails answered and filed, I stared at that email for a long time before I finally plucked up the courage to open it. When I read the sentence about them offering me a contract I burst into tears. I was a veritable fountain! I don’t know which emotion was stronger –happiness or relief.

If I’m being honest, I’d have to admit to having similar reactions to subsequent submissions!

Is this a first book, part of a series, or the latest in a long line of many?

Heart Knot Mine started as a stand-alone, but somewhere along the line the continuation of Noah and Robert’s story began to sound like a great idea! They’ll have to wait though, because Jonah and his guardian angel from Echoes of Mercy are getting rather impatient with me! They want me to finish their story.

What is the oddest thing that’s happened to you since you chose to become a professional writer? Will it ever make it into a book, or is that a secret?

I don’t know whether to admit to this or not. I feel so shy about it, but I’d have to say the oddest thing that’s happened is the earning of a male admirer who is quite a few years my junior.

Will it make it into a book? Possibly, but seeing as I write M/M, I guess I’ll have to become a man! Of course, the fact that I write M/M and my admirer is straight is part of what makes it odd! Still, I can just see me with grey hair at my temples and glasses perched on my nose. I’d look ever so sexy…

Do you have your next book underway, or other titles in the planning stages?

I usually write more than one story at a time. It depends on who is talking the loudest on any given day! Currently, I’m working on Jonah’s story which is Echoes of Mercy. It involves a journey he goes on with his guardian angel. It sad and sweet and funny and should be out sometime over the summer.

After that Jaxon and Liam have insisted I finish the third book in their series (How the Light Gets In) and trust me, Jaxon can be quite persuasive!

Do you have a favourite genre and why? Is it one you write in, read in, or both?

I do love the genre I predominantly write in which is Contemporary Romance, but I have a soft spot for both historical novels and dystopian future ones. Oh and I love ones like the Da Vinci Code where facts are woven into the fiction and the reader is required to solve puzzles and race against the clock! A good old whodunit is a winner with me too. Hell, I just like to read a good story!

What, to you, is the most exciting part of the writing process? Does it change from book to book or remain the same?

It remains the same for each book and it’s the beginning of finally putting words on the page for a new story. I spend a lot of time getting to know my characters and so it’s great when we’re all ready for me to start the actual writing. It feels like I’m about to embark on a wonderful adventure with friends with endless possibilities unfolding before us. It’s exciting.

If you could co-author a book with anyone, who would you choose and why? What kind of book do you think would come from the collaboration?

I think I’d have to go with Ira Levin and we’d come up with some freakish dystopian future novel. It would be scary and unnerving because we’d make it all sound so plausible.

For More Information

About the Book:


Despite a successful college teaching career, Noah Daniels has become depressed. He feels he’s leading a monochromatic life: love has eluded him. When he’s offered a chance to teach in London as part of an exchange program, he accepts, hoping a change of scenery will do him good. But once he’s there, his outlook on love and sexuality changes in ways he never expected.

Robert Callinan is Noah’s English counterpart in the program. The men exchange not only their jobs, but also their homes, and it is what Noah stumbles across while staying at Robert’s house that sends him on a journey of self-discovery—both mentally and physically. A journey that puts color back into his life… just not in the way he expected. When the exchange program ends, Noah has to go home, but he doesn’t know if he wants to return to the life he left behind.

For More Information

Book Excerpt:

Sitting with my ass parked on my favorite barstool, at my favorite bar—the Redhead Piano Bar on Ontario—I nursed my bourbon and silently asked myself the usual questions. Well, actually, it was really only the one question phrased a hundred different ways. That’s what happened when you went the route of academia—you learned how to complicate the shit out of things and use fancy-schmancy words. If you thought about it, it was a bit ridiculous to be using three-plus-syllable words to ask a question, when most of us were usually seeking a simple one- or two-syllable word answer. Yes. No. And, if we’d really lucked out: maybe.
I snorted into my drink, remembering the words of my most admired college professor, Ross Whedon: Noah Daniels, how many times have I told you? An academic will always take a whole paragraph for what could have been said in one sentence. Christ, even my thoughts were long-winded.
What was my question again?
Oh, yeah.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I mean, really, what the hell was wrong with me? She was gorgeous. Tall and willowy, with long, flowing mahogany hair that still managed to look sleek and glossy under the dim lights of the bar. Big brown eyes, clear skin, an impressive rack, and when she walked away from me, I saw she had a great peach-shaped ass.
That’s right, she walked away. Why?
Because I gave her the brush-off. That’s why.
Hence my question. What the hell is wrong with me?
She wasn’t irritating. Her voice didn’t grate. Quite the contrary. She was charming and friendly. In fact, I’d go so far as to say she was interesting and articulate—she was in PR. Surely that meant she could string together a sentence?—and yet, I’d passed on her not so subtle come-on. I looked at her again, knowing I could have her if I wanted her, but try as I might, I couldn’t muster even the slightest bit of enthusiasm for the idea.
And that was the problem.
Me and enthusiasm didn’t seem to be on speaking terms anymore. All the color had seeped out of my life. I was living a monochromatic, black-and-white photograph of a life where everything was a shade of tedious.
I wasn’t sure how it happened, or even when it happened.
It just had.
It crept up on me, like a slow-spreading parasitic vine, gradually sapping the vibrancy from my life. One day I woke up and everything was gray, dull, and lifeless.
And it had been that way for a while.
Lifting the glass, I paused, letting the bourbon wet my lips before throwing my head back and tossing down the last of my drink. Closing my eyes, I hissed, relishing the searing burn to my throat—a small reminder I was actually alive—a living, breathing, sentient being and not merely a walking, talking robot.
If only there was a whiskey burn for my emotions, I’d be set.
Glancing down at the aged cherrywood bar, I vaguely wondered what they used to achieve such a high polish. It was almost mirrorlike in its sheen. I could clearly see my face reflected upon its surface.
And instantly wished I hadn’t.
After grimacing at the shell staring back at me, I decided scrutinizing myself wasn’t such a good idea. Taking my own advice, I looked up, meeting Seth the bartender’s gaze. He raised his eyebrow at me in query, and I gave him a brief nod, watching as he poured me another finger of Booker’s.
As he slid it across to me, not a word was spoken. I nodded, he nodded, and we both went back to doing our own separate things—me to thinking, him to serving the other patrons. The opening notes of a melody from the piano situated at the opposite end of the dimly lit room, and the dulcet tones of Stella McClaren floated above the chatter of the Thursday-night crowd. They went quiet as she continued. I wasn’t surprised. She was good.
The start of the music was my alarm clock, telling me it must be eight o’clock. Time to head home to the never-ending pile of papers waiting to be graded.
Sighing at the thought of what awaited me, I took another sip of the amber fire in my glass and swirled it around my mouth before letting it seep, drop by drop, down the back of my throat. Once again, I said my silent thanks to the bourbon for serving a dual purpose: anesthetizing me while at the same time reminding me, with its burn, I was still alive and breathing. Quite an achievement.



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Dorothy Thompson
Pump Up Your Book
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Saturday, June 14, 2014

*CONTEST ALERT* Sensuous Promo’s Presents - Book Tour for Open World - C.O.V.E.N. by Casey Moss



Welcome to Sensuous Promo’s Open World - C.O.V.E.N. Tour.

* WATCH FOR CONTEST BELOW *

The world has broken out in wars. Las Vegas has been ravaged by chemical warfare and is now home to several clans and creatures.
Welcome to I-D-8 Entertainment’s newest game: Clans of Vegas—Endless Night.
Friends and family have gathered for a crunch time playtest of C.O.V.E.N.. When a horrible thunderstorm hits, everyone’s sucked into the game for real. In the MMORPG, Hope Collins is kidnapped by Buzz and forced to submit to his whims. Her boyfriend, Alden, has to delay his quest of defeating a clan’s prince to save her, but time and circumstance don’t seem to be on his side. Faith Collins is bombarded by strange dreams brought on by Buzz. Her boyfriend, Tavis, learns to dream walk, but can he help break the spell she’s under and save her before she’s lost to him?
C.O.V.E.N. is more than just a game. It’s a whole other world.

Excerpt:

Perhaps he’d been under too much stress, had too much caffeine, didn’t have enough sleep or information about the guy. More likely a combination of it all. A hodgepodge of shit and no shovel. He didn’t know how much more of all this he could take.
Shaking off the negativity, Alden rotated his head, listening to his spine crackle and pop. Tension released. The quick adjustment perked him up. He plated the burgers, closed the lid to the grill and exhaled a deep breath. First food, then work, and amongst it all, see if I can figure out Mr. Jenkins’s deal. Making his way toward the small group, the tray of hot meat balanced on one hand, he focused in on Cor, noting his body language and how the people around him responded.
Why did I imagine him as the antagonist? The one in the game I need to destroy?
The storyline he had to double check during the playtest dealt with finding the main boss—the Prince of Clan Caesachapel—and defeating him before the cad could cause harm. He’d intended to assist Hope and her family in creating ‘good’ characters, placing them in the clan he belonged to, and have them run the quests, as well. But with the way he’d been feeling, he almost reconsidered that idea.
Thing was he had a job to do. One he aimed to make good on and see through to the end. He’d never been the kind of guy to shirk a duty, and he wasn’t about to start now.
Mr. James Collins, a middle-aged man with graying, strawberry blond hair and ice blue eyes, glanced Den’s way as he approached. James acknowledged him with slight nod, then returned his attention to Cor.
The fact James was only a programmer and not his direct boss—or above him in any authoritative capacity in the organization—pleased Den. The man sure ran hot one moment and cold the next when it came to him. Hope had explained that was one of her father’s personality quirks and not to take it personal.
Some future father-in-law he would turn out to be.
Plastering a smile on his face, he placed the dish of meat on the aluminum table. James and the ladies’ attentions stayed fixed on the gentleman in their midst. Good. No one paid him any mind. More time to assess the situation.
Cor’s intense brown-eyed gaze bored into Hope’s, infiltrating her defenses and working whatever magic the man seemed to possess. Their connection resembled flirting but in a stronger sense. His chest tightened and burned. Mine, his inner voice asserted in a low, rolling growl, reminding him of his in game character’s speech. Alden stepped back before he could choose to put his fist in Cor’s face. His foot crunched on a chip bag that had fallen to the ground.
Hope didn’t flinch, didn’t look away.
Mesmerized. Shit. And not just her. Enthralled by the bean counter, the whole family overlooked him like he didn’t exist.
What the hell is going on?
  
~ Buy Links ~

~ Author Bio ~
Casey Moss delves into the darker aspects of life in her writing, sometimes basing the stories on reality, sometimes on myth. No matter the path, her stories will take you on a journey from the light-hearted paranormal to dark things unspeakable. What waits around the corner? Come explore…

~ Author Links ~



* CONTEST *
Leave a comment below (with email address) and your name will be thrown into the hat to win 1 - $25 gift card to either Amazon or Barnes & Noble.
Winners Choice!


Winner will be chosen on June 20th

Monday, June 9, 2014

Exposure @MJLocklear


Publicist Shaunna Noble is no stranger to the ego-filled dysfunction of Hollywood's elite, but is she ready for her two biggest clients to turn into her worst nightmare?

Kyle Petersen and Michelle Cooper are Hollywood royalty, everyone's favorite celebrity couple, but while on location filming their new summer blockbuster, Kyle ambushes his wife with divorce papers and orders Shaunna to destroy Michelle in the media. Unwilling to comply, Shaunna spectacularly and publicly quits her job, humiliating Kyle in the process.

David Quinn, a struggling actor cast alongside the A-listers, is caught in the crossfire. When pictures surface of David and Michelle out on the town, media and fans rush to crown them Hollywood's new hot couple. Kyle explodes, tensions boil over, and everyone's lives and careers are thrown into jeopardy. 

So what's a publicist to do? Especially when Shaunna finds herself falling in love with the sexy and talented David. Can she put out fires on the set while keeping the flames burning in the bedroom?

Love, lies and passion. What happens when the naked truth is exposed?


EXCERPT:

As a boy in Chicago, David always imagined there was something sinister about midnight. Now, he associated midnight with sensuality, and felt nothing but joy. He'd found the friend he wanted to see the world with. He held the lover whom he would never let go. She was a living passion, a comfort for his weary soul.

"I've missed you so much," David whispered as he rested his head on her chest.

She wrapped her arms around his damp head. "I've missed you too. Do you have to be anywhere tomorrow morning?"

"Nope. The whole day is mine. Ours."

"Good," Shaunna breathed. 

She pulled his face to hers and kissed him in a desperate, craving way that got him revved up all over again. When he pressed his body to hers, she opened her legs immediately. With an adjustment of his hips, David slowly entered her and closed his eyes with pleasure. Shaunna's eyes were wide open. She stared up at his strong chest as he became a part of her for the first time in weeks.

They moved slowly at first, savoring the contact, but it had been a very long day. Soon they evolved into voracious lovers bucking against one another. They slid up and down each other's bodies, kissing and licking anything that was exposed. They flitted from position to position, each one causing Shaunna to climax faster than the one before.

David was strong but getting tired, so she pushed him down on his back and straddled him with a determined expression.

"Are you ready?" she purred. "I want you to come for me."

"Yes," David confirmed breathlessly.

Shaunna moved with purpose. David, jealous of the moon's fingers caressing his lover’s skin, reached up and cupped her slick breasts. She leaned into his hands and wiggled hard with him inside her. She climaxed twice more before she heard his soft blissful whimper and felt his hands squeeze her thighs.

"Rest," she told him as she settled back onto the mattress and pulled him into her arms. Her intentions were to look after him, to stroke his hair, but soon she fell into a doze. He was relaxed but also excited for the time when he would finally be able to publicly declare their love. He fell asleep with a peace in his heart that all the money in the world could never have given him.

They didn't wake to make love again until the room was completely dark. Outside, the sky showed thin strips of purple on the undersides of low clouds passing each other like great puffy whales.

Their dawn lovemaking was silent and slow, and they didn't stir again until the house's air conditioning kicked in and the smell of Michelle's coffee snuck up the stairs to tempt them into the day.
Bio​:

Morgan and Jennifer Locklear met in 1989 as teenagers and became high school sweethearts. They have been married since 1995 and live in the Pacific Northwest region of the United States with their two children, a son and daughter.

Although both enjoyed creative writing in their youth, they have only been working as a writing team since 2010. Since then they have created a dozen full-length and short stories together.

Jennifer has been employed in fundraising and development for a non-profit organization since 2000. She also enjoys participating in charitable activities, both locally and online. In her (limited) free time she is an avid reader.

Morgan has been employed in the hospitality industry since 1998. He has been active in the local performing arts community since childhood with many acting and directing credits to his name. He is also a musician and songwriter and has recorded 6 albums.


Friday, June 6, 2014

His To Claim @OpalCarew Giveaway!!


GIVEAWAY

Leave behind a comment, and you are entered to win an ebook copy of Opal's novella, Hot Ride (this is the first in Opal's popular "Ready to Ride" Series! It hit New York Times within the Box Set "Riding Desire"). 

His to Claim #1: No Strings
by Opal Carew 
Published by: St. Martin’s Griffin
Publication date: June 3rd 2014
Genres: Erotica, Romance

Rafe is a rock musician by night and head of a multi-million dollar family business during the day. Melanie is his former assistant, a wallflower who’s harbored a secret crush on him for years. Someone he’d never even consider sleeping with. But when Melanie decides to leave behind her shy exterior and live out her own sexy bucket list, the two of them are thrown together in a whirlwind affair that pushes both their boundaries.

His to Claim: Part 1 is the first installment in the scintillating erotic serial novel His to Claim, later to be made available as a complete book featuring special bonus material. Don’t miss the other chapters of Opal Carew’s six-part serial out Summer 2014. She’s his to claim–he just doesn’t know it.


Purchase: Amazon   |   Barnes & Noble 

AUTHOR BIO:

Opal Carew is the author of Total Abandon, Pleasure Bound, Twin Fantasies and other erotic romance novels. She also writes as Elizabeth Batten-Carew. “So why do I like writing erotic romance?” she asks. “I like being able to push beyond traditional boundaries.” Opal loves crystals, dragons, feathers, cats, pink hair, the occult and all that glitters. While she writes, she listens to inspirational music, lights candles and keeps crystals near. Before devoting herself to her passion as a writer, Opal spent 15 years as a software analyst, and she has a degree in Mathematics from the University of Waterloo. She lives with her husband and two sons in Ontario, Canada.

Author links: 

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter |  Goodreads

Excerpt 1 (From HTClaim Part 1 - No Strings) ~450 words

As Melanie stepped outside, Rafe behind her, she regretted that this time with him was about to end. The tattoo had been painful, but not as bad as she’d anticipated. It had been so nice, though, having him there to literally hold her hand through it.

“Would you like a ride home?” he asked.

She gazed at him in his jeans and tank top, tattoos visible over his chest and flowing down his arms and she couldn’t help laughing. “I just got a mental picture of you dressed just as you are now climbing into that shiny, black limo.”

He shrugged. “Sure, why not? Would you like to ride in the limo?”

She had always wanted to. It seemed so glamorous and luxurious. It would be a taste of how the other half lived.

“Or, since it’s such a nice day, we could ride my motorcycle.”

She raised her eyebrow. “You have a motorcycle?”

“That’s right. It’s over there.” He nodded his head toward a big, gleaming, burgundy Harley parked on the street in front of the shop. “But I know some women are a little intimidated by them.”

Melanie laughed. “Not me. I’ve always wanted to ride one.” She walked to the big machine and ran her fingers over the soft, black, leather seat. “I would love to ride with you.”

His lips turned up in a devilish grin. “Really?”

She glanced at him and realized her statement might have sounded a little...sexual. Suddenly, an image washed through her of straddling Rafe, and slowly moving up and down on him, his big erection buried deep inside her. A wild surge of hormones vibrated through her.

As her cheeks blossomed with heat, she flicked her gaze to the seat again. “Um, yeah. It would be a real adventure. Then I can cross two items off my bucket list—getting a tattoo and riding a motorcycle.”

“I never knew you had such a wild side.”

Before she could respond, he opened the back compartment and handed her a helmet, then pulled one on himself.

She opened her bag and pulled out the light sweater she’d brought with her and started to pull it on. Ever the gentleman, Rafe grabbed it and held it up for her so she could easily push her arms into the sleeves. As she zipped it up, he pulled a black leather jacket from the storage bin and pulled it on.

Oh, man, he looked incredibly hot in denim and leather. He mounted the bike and she climbed on behind him.

Once she was settled, he glanced back at her. “You sure you want to go straight home?”

Excerpt 1 (HTClaim Part 2 - Savage Kiss) ~450 words

“You know,” Rafe said, “if you’re interested in doing something artistic for a living, I’m sure we could find something for you in the art department at Ranier Industries.”

Melanie smiled. “There you go trying to help me out again. You know, you’re not responsible for me.”

“You’re right, but I’d like to help. Not because I feel obligated. I think you’re talented and just need a chance to shine. I’d love to help you do that.”

“Did you want help when you broke away from the company and went off on your motorcycle to find yourself?”

His lips quirked up. “No, but I have a big bank account to fall back on. And the family business. You have to play it closer to the edge. But I get it. You want to do it on your own.”

She smiled and took a sip of her drink. “Talking about your time away, how was it playing your guitar in front of huge audiences?”

His eyes glowed. “It was a pure adrenaline rush.”

She grinned. “A few months ago, I never would have been able to imagine Rafe Ranier, businessman, always impeccably dressed in a designer suit, playing guitar with a rock band in front of screaming fans, but after seeing you with your tattoos and leather jacket, and riding the big motorcycle . . .” She shrugged. “I still say you inspire me.”

He leaned forward. “I like that.”

The intensity of his gaze unsettled her.

“If I can be some part of you breaking free and finding yourself, that makes me feel good.”

She gazed into his sky blue eyes, her heartbeat increasing. “I’m glad I make you feel good.”

He was so close. With his broad shoulders and impressive height, she felt tiny in comparison. She felt the pull of his masculinity as she leaned a little closer. Heat simmered in his eyes as his face drew nearer, then he tipped up her chin. Her breath held as his lips brushed hers. Lightly. Tenderly. Then his mouth moved on hers. She breathed in his musky male scent mixed with leather and mint. The tip of his tongue teased her lips and she opened. Her arms swept around his neck as he slid into her mouth. His hands glided around her waist and he drew her closer. Her eyelids fell closed as she felt his arms envelop her.

Oh, God, this was really happening. She was in Rafe Ranier’s arms. They were alone in her apartment and he was kissing her. Her bedroom was only yards away. She curled her tongue around his and stroked it. Weak with need, she melted against him.

His mouth drew away and she opened her eyes.

He seemed uncertain. “Melanie, are you sure—”