Friday, May 22, 2015

My Sexy Love ~ @MySexySaturday #MySexySaturday #Saturday7 #MSSAuthors

Welcome to the 93rd week of My Sexy Saturday.

This week’s theme is My Sexy Love.



There is something special in writing about love and how two people, sometimes more, can find how important it is. It’s special to us as writers if we find a song or a series of songs that epitomize that love story.
So here's an mysterious rather than sexy excerpt from Love Remains. 




Heat poured out of the vents and for a moment calmed her chills. She watched her hands on the steering wheel reversing out of the garage and onto the road. Her mind screamed to stop, run away, do something, anything, to get back into the house, but her body no longer answered to her commands. “So where to?”
“You know. You always knew.”
“I do?” She dragged the words out, but a picture of her destination formed in her head
and she shifted into drive. “But what’s there, other than a spot on a winding country road?”
“It’s where your future begins.” The whisper behind her head rose hairs on her nape.
Drifting snow blew over the road as she drove on, glancing at the reflection of her house in the mirrors until she no longer could spot its brick siding.
She drove in silence and merged onto almost deserted highway. “You still here?”
“Keep going.” The voice filled the interior. If this was God’s messenger, its ways were mysterious.
“Mind if I put on some music?” No reply came from the angel. Olivia pulled a CD out
of the case and inserted the disk. Sounds of pipe-organ from The Phantom of the Opera startled her, but she burst into ironic laughter. How fitting. Hadn’t the heroine believed an angel of music taught her to sing? When in fact the angel was a demented man with disfigured face.
Maybe the angel in Olivia’s car was some lunatic hiding in shadows. She should sing along to pass the time, hide her fear or scare her personal phantom away. Her stab at the soprano could raise the dead she’d been told. Then there was something to be said about prudent silence.
Oh what the heck, it just may work. After the opening piano chords, she joined in with the lead soprano. The words tightened her throat and choked her singing. Her voice tapered off. The lyrics hit too damn close to home. Would Tom think of her? Would his love fade? No, they had promised each other many times. She must hold on to the vow.
All she had to do was drive to the destination and then … what? What waited for her there?
Snowflakes whirled in the beams of her headlights, stirring the darkness as her car sped ahead. The last track on the CD played when she took the exit ramp. She took note of the road signs and the landmarks. Waterloo County. She was outside the city already. 
Enter the roundabout and take the first right. The voice boomed in her head.
“Blair Road.” She read the green sign. After passing a few scarce houses lining the narrow and winding asphalt, her surrounding dissolved into darkness. Her foot pushed on the brake pedal. Her instinct told her to go back. She grabbed the gearstick and tried to shift into reverse, but the transmission wouldn’t budge. Past the point of no return … the phantom’s singing warned her to follow the road ahead and find spot where she could make a wide turn.
Through the veil of darkness, dense forest loomed over the road. She must’ve passed the last sign of civilization some fifteen minutes ago.


Pick up a copy for your
Stay sexy and visit all of the participating blogs below. 



Monday, May 18, 2015

Author in the spotlight: Mariana Gabrielle






Please tell us about your writing. Can you explain the title without giving too much away?
La Déesse Noire: The Black Goddess is the stage name given to my character when she starts performing as a dancer on stage, in part, because it is rumored she was Napoleon’s paramour before he began his campaign to take over the world. Because more people have asked than I expected, “La Déesse Noire” means “The Black Goddess” in French.

I am inspired by authors like Arturo Perez Reverte, Jack Vance, Dan Simmons, Beatrice Small, J.R.R Tolkien, C. S. Lewis. What writers inspire you?
In historical romance, I am inspired by Alexandra Ripley foremost (she is more historical fiction than romance, but for some reason, I associate her with romance). I am a latecomer to the genre as a reader and writer, so most of my influences are current: Lucinda Brant, who wrote my forever book boyfriend, Roxton, in Noble Satyr; my friend and colleague, Jude Knight, who wrote Farewell to Kindness; Ella Quinn, Ava Stone, Elizabeth Bailey, and many, many others who have become friends and associates. In mainstream historical fiction (where I started writing fiction and have just contracted to release Blind Tribute, about a Civil War newspaper reporter with divided loyalties), Ken Follett and John Irving utterly fascinate, and completely outclass, me.

Whom do you see as your ideal reader?
Technically, Regency and historical fiction readers are my target audience, but many, many people who don’t usually read romance have been really excited about my books. I try to write good fiction, not just good romance, so I hope that is reflected in my readership.

What do you learn from your writing?
I had a professor who pointed out once that I learn how the writing will progress as I write (meaning, essentially, “What a horrible mess you’ve made of this draft!”), so I learn my characters first, and then they tell me the plot. I have to go back and add the setting and manipulate their plans in on the second draft.

What advice can you give to aspiring writers?
Write.

Where can our readers find a copy of your work?
Any online retailer: Amazon, Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, Kobo, and All Romance eBooks. It is in print at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. You can also buy direct from my website at www.MarianaGabrielle.com, but pre-order isn’t available there, so La Déesse Noire won’t be available for direct purchase until June 10.

And finally, as an author, do you have any quirks or habits that help you write better?

Probably, but I would be hard pressed to tell you what they are. The only one I can think of is mentally drifting off into historical eras to the point of not listening to present-day conversation. I have been known to say, “Sorry, can you repeat that? I was in 1804.”

La Déesse Noire: The Black Goddess



Rafflecopter contest May 15 - June 9:

OR

Free copy of La Déesse Noire: The Black Goddess, .epub or .mobi, to a random commenter.
                                                                                                               
Book Blurb
Sired by a British peer, born of a paramour to Indian royalty, Kali Matai has been destined from birth to enthrall England’s most powerful noblemen—though she hadn’t counted on becoming their pawn. Finding herself under the control of ruthless men, who will not be moved by her legendary allure, she has no choice but to use her beauty toward their malicious and clandestine ends.

When those she holds most dear are placed in peril by backroom political dealings, she enlists some of the most formidable lords in England to thwart her enemies. But even with the help of the prominent gentlemen she has captivated, securing Kali’s freedom, her family, and the man she loves, will require her protectors stop at nothing to fulfill her desires.
Author Bio
Mariana Gabrielle is a pseudonym of Mari Christie, a professional writer, editor, and designer with almost twenty-five years’ experience. Published in dozens of nonfiction and poetry periodicals since 1989, she began writing mainstream historical fiction in 2009 and Regency romance in 2013. In all genres, she creates deeply scarred characters in uncommon circumstances who overcome self-imposed barriers to reach their full potential. She is a member of the Bluestocking Belles, the Writing Wenches, and the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers. Her first Regency romance, Royal Regard, was released in November 2014.

Links

Buy/Review Links

Mariana Social Media 
Facebook Launch Party, June 10, noon - 8 pm EDT

Website and Blog:

Tags
Romance, Regency romance, Royal Regard, multicultural romance, interracial romance, courtesan, Mariana Gabrielle, Mari Christie, @mchristieauthor

Hashtags 
#Romance #Regency #RegencyRomance #HistRom #BellesInBlue #MCRomance #IRRomance #MFRWAuthor #WeNeedDiverseRomance 

And now the long waited excerpt (x rated as a reward to your patience)

Kali Matai’s head bowed under the candlelight of dozen of chandeliers and the mirrored footlights at the edge of the stage. The silence of the scene, the quiet of the spirit of the dancer before them caused a hush across the theatre. La Déesse Noire would perform only once the men settled themselves to give their full attention.
The shapely form was held in perfect abeyance, clothed this night in gold-shot emerald green, which might as easily have matched any jewel tone: deep sapphire, royal amethyst, garnet red. The flickering lights from all sides reflected the rhythmic bass note of the tabla drums, shaking in the jeweled bangles of her gold chain girdle. The bells began to shake along the edges of her sari as her lithe shape trembled under the sheerest silk in England. The audience could not see the secrets of her body, but would swear they might with the next movement, shake, twist, turn.
The fabric was like water flowing down her collarbone, curling around her shoulder, drifting across her bosom and around her trim waist. With a twist of ankle, the jeweled rings on her toes sent flashes of light tripping across the assemblage, sure to blind a few men, leaving them, for a few moments, with only the thought of their last vision of her. The bracelets shaking at her wrists added a sharp note to music already carrying her body through the steps of the mujra dance.
The sound wafting off the sarangi strings seemed to stroke along her inner thighs, her legs twisting to the melody underneath the full silk skirts, caressing her hips and buttocks, the length of her sari slipping on and off her shoulder, covering and revealing her face, rubbing across any part of her body to which she wished to call attention.
Her hips began to shake like they might atop a man lying prone, side to side, fore to aft, hands tracing her legs, a rhythm known only to her, which might take her blissfully into la petite mort, if a man could but imitate it.
The steps took her to her knees, her body writhing like a snake might, wrapping its coils around the legs of any man in the audience who could visualize it, her eyes in the candlelight glowing, face flushed, as though by sitting with her knees parted at a man’s feet, rubbing against his calves, her face against his groin, she might achieve her own, private ecstasy.
With an unhurried stroke of her arm against her cheekbone, Kali finally loosened the first strand of her tightly bound hair. One gold-and-diamond pin at a time, she continued as the music worked back into a crescendo, until her skirts were like waves crashing against a sea wall, her black tresses whipping around her face like ash and smoke left by the fires of a vengeful goddess.
Slowing her limbs to a near-stop, she draped herself backward, one hand and the top of her head not an inch from the floor, the silk of her sari now loosely covering, outlining, the treasures between her legs. Turning on her heel, the view shifted from the crease of her thighs to the furrow between her bountiful breasts, set off by her slack lips, reddened like they might appear after rough use. Before the gentlemen looked their fill, slowly, letting the silk caress her fingers, body loose and limber, Kali rose languidly from the contortion as gracefully as a raven might stretch its wing.
As the music once more gained speed and volume, her body followed, beginning to turn, spin, to keep the rhythm with wrists, hips, and toes, heels keeping time with the pounding drum. The faster she spun, the more the skirt rose to show her ankles, her knees, covered in diaphanous muslin, another layer of translucence keeping her all but nude for her audience’s pleasure.
One quick twist of her gemstone-covered fingers released a gold chain strung with beads from the girdle about her waist, letting it fall among the lengths of her skirts to shimmer among the shot threads of silver and gold, Her hip set the chain swinging in unison with her turns, and she loosened one bell-strung chain after another, until the half-dozen that had circled her waist now draped her hips, tinkling more raucously in their freedom.
When the turns had entirely mesmerized the men, all eyes following her curves in unison, she collected her movements once more, her feet almost motionless, the rest of her body undulating in every direction at once, letting each man in the room believe he was the one for whom La Déesse Noire might be reaching.
Her body had been trained for a lifetime to exhibit and elicit the sexual hunger of the most passionate bed: the depths of her dark eyes, the tangling of her heavy, black-satin locks, the negligence of her smile, and the outline of her quivering body undulating under silk, all brought to mind nothing so much as the way she might look being stroked to completion under a man’s hand.
“Brava! Brava!”

Saturday, May 16, 2015

Sexy Forever ~ @MySexySaturday #MySexySaturday #Saturday7 #MSSAuthors





Welcome to the 92nd week of My Sexy Saturday.

This week’s theme is Sexy Forever. Think of couples who live forever. You know, your favorite vampires, werewolves, even angels or ghosts.

So without further ado, here's an excerpt from "Rose of Crimson" 




Darkness surrounded Miles. Days blended into nights but he would not leave her grave. He lay there, listening for any sounds of Dobrila coming to life. Yet only scratching of a scurrying church mouse broke the silence. Had the damn vampire lied? No, the creature of the night would not feed from the corpse. She would awaken, he must be patient.
Her heartbeat came in so weak he almost mistook it for a mouse’s, but the sound grew louder and stronger. Joy swirled through him. She came back to the living.
He spurred onto his feet and pushed the flat slab, opening the grave. His fingers worked fast to loosen the nails holding the lid to the coffin. She clawed at the wood, struggling to breathe. He pulled the coffin open. “Thank God and all deities, you are awakened.” He helped her to sit up.
Her mouth hanging open while she stared at him, but at least her breathing steadied. “Do my eyes deceive me?”
“No, dove. Eyes cannot deceive.”
She scanned the church’s interior. “Are we in Heaven? For it looks an awful like Earth.”
“We’re not dead…if that is what you’re asking.” He swallowed down the fast forming knot in his throat. The hard part of explaining what exactly they were was upon him. “We are alive, but a different kind of alive.”
She shook her head and a deep crease marred her beautiful forehead. “You’re not making any sense, Miles.”
“There’s a lot I must explain and I will in time, and time is all we have from now on.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and lifted her out of the grave, then replaced the cover over the gaping hole. “There, let them think we’re forever buried here together.” He dusted his hands off and wrapped his fingers with Dobrila’s. “I’ve secured us a ship passage to another town where no one knows us. Still we must abolish all ties to our families and live as ordinary citizens, not as nobilities. Can you do this for us, Dobrila?”


BLURB
KATE ROKOV‘s grades are plummeting. She needs to get the voice out of her head or she will flunk her finals.
MATTHIAS ZRIN, a three centuries old immortal, born into an aristocratic family as Miles Rušinić, is enthralled with Kate. It is his voice preventing Kate from sleeping and her ignorance is testing his limits. He wants her to write down his story to settle his wife’s earthbound spirit. His tragic love story has become Kate’s obsession since fifth grade during her summer trip to Rušinić castle.
Their coming together settles the old spirit and breaks an ancient curse, and in doing so, a flame spanning over three centuries reignites and burns with wild desire. In this tale of two life times and desire versus emotional need, both know some dreams will have to wait for the right time, but the magic between them is impossible to withstand.
You can pick up a copy for your
Kindle
Kobo
Nook
iPad

Stay sexy for the rest of the week and visit all of the participating blogs. 


Friday, May 15, 2015

Author in the spotlight: Susanne Matthews

Welcome fellow author from my neck of woods, Susanne Matthews. The stage is yours, Susanne. 






Please tell us about your writing. Can you explain the title without giving too much away?
In my latest book, The White Carnation is the first book in the Harvester Series. The heroine receives a white carnation periodically from a secret admirer.  When she discovers his identity, the flowers take on a deadly importance in the story.
What are your future writing goals?
The first things I have to finish are the next two books in this series. The White Lily will be out in the fall and The White Iris is scheduled for release in December. As well, I have another book to complete for the Hearts of Braden series, tentatively titled, Secrets and Lies, to be released by another publisher in October. I hope to finish, The Price of Courage, the sequel to my historical romance, The Price of Honor, later this year, and finally, I’ve promised my grandchildren a book starring the five of them as main characters. I have a feeling that will be my most challenging effort yet.
When you have time, what would we find you reading?
In an effort to promote new authors, I try to devote most of my reading time to their books, and offer reviews whenever I can. I continue to read anything new from Dan Brown, Kathy Reichs, or Nora Roberts.
Who has been your biggest supporter?
Without a doubt, my husband and my family are my biggest supporters followed by my online friends who’ve encouraged me in my darkest moments of self-doubt. I think only another reasonably new author can understand the way I feel when a new book is released. There is joy and excitement, but the fear the public will reject your efforts is there as well.
What advice can you give to aspiring writers?
Don’t give up on your dreams. Finish what you start. Unfinished manuscripts will never be published, so you want to finish them. There’s no hard and fast rule about how you write. I know authors who are plotters and I know many who like me, are pantsers. No matter what style you opt for, just remember to do your best. That’s all anyone can ask of you.
Where can our readers find a copy of your work?
My work is available through Amazon and most major retailers, and they can get the direct links on my webpage: http://www.mhsusannematthews.ca/
And finally, as an author, do you have any quirks or habits that help you write better?

I don’t know if it’s a quirk, and I know a lot of writing courses will tell you not to do it, but I edit as I write, going back over what I’ve written. I may go back to the beginning of the book a dozen times and revise before I get to the end and then do it again. I work with a screen reader so I can hear as well as see what I’ve written. It may not work for everyone, but it works for me. 


About the author:

Susanne Matthews was born and raised in Cornwall, Ontario, Canada. She’s always been an avid reader of all types of books, but always with a penchant for happily ever after romances. In her imagination, she travelled to foreign lands, past and present, and soared into the future. A retired educator, Susanne spends her time writing and creating adventures for her readers. She loves the ins and outs of romance, and the complex journey it takes to get from the first word to the last period of a novel. As she writes, her characters take on a life of their own, and she shares their fears and agonies on the road to self-discovery and love.

Follow Susanne on her:  Website    Blog    Facebook page    Twitter @jandsmatt


Amazon author page    and    Goodreads author page 


Excerpt # 1 The White Carnation
She slapped the steering wheel in frustration. The drive from Wellesley to Beacon Hill seemed interminable, and more than once, Faye cursed inept drivers who didn’t know the least little bit about driving or where they were going. She hated being late, and thanks to overlong speeches and bad traffic, she would be.
“Tourists,” she grumbled when a sudden exit off the highway almost caused an accident. “Too bad GPS doesn't come with idiot-proofing.” When she eventually got off the I-90 and onto the side streets, she spotted a parking space on Marlborough only half a block from Mary’s family home, a neighborhood she remembered fondly from her youth. Well, at least the parking fairy’s on my side.
Glancing at the heavy gray clouds on the horizon, she cursed. It would rain soon, and she’d forgotten her umbrella in her desk. This jacket needed to be dry-cleaned, and she’d already blown this month’s budget for that. Grabbing the white carnation with the rainbow ribbon that her secret admirer had left on the windshield this morning, she got out of the car. That flower was the only bright spot in her otherwise dismal day. As always, there’d been no card. The individual flowers, their stems tucked in micro-vases that held the precious water they needed, arrived on a more or less regular basis. This was the fourth—no, the fifth one. Sloan had joked about the first one.
“Maybe O’Malley learned you hate roses.”
Jerk!
She was convinced her secret admirer was sweet and maybe a little shy. For a while, she’d thought Jimmy might have been leaving the flowers for her, but he’d been out of town on assignment the last two times. At least Mr. Mysterious wasn't some crazed stalker sending her death threats. It was good to know someone still admired her, and if the only romance in her life was a carnation four or five times a year, so be it. Her crushed heart wouldn't be in any danger that way. She usually took the flowers home, but this time, she’d give it to Lucy Green. Why not? The woman deserved a bright spot in her day, too.

BLURB
The last person disgraced reporter Faye Lewis wants back in her life is Detective Rob Halliday, the man she blames for ruining her career and breaking her heart. But when she finds an old friend murdered, he’s the one she calls.
 For the past year, Rob and his team have been hunting the Harvester, a serial killer who ritualistically murders new mothers and vanishes with their infants. What Rob doesn't need is another case, especially one involving his ex-fiance.
 Then Faye is assaulted, and Rob realizes the cases are connected. She may hold the answers he needs to find the elusive killer. But the more they investigate, the more complex the situation becomes. Can they set the past aside and work together, or will the Harvester and his followers reap another prize?

Thank you for being my guest today. I wish you the best of luck with your writing. 

Friday, May 8, 2015

Sexy Today ~ @MySexySaturday #MySexySaturday #Saturday7 #MSSAuthors #MSS91




Welcome to the 91st week of My Sexy Saturday.

This week’s theme is Sexy Today. We all have our idea of sexy and it means so much more than it did fifty years ago. Sexy can be any age and many are saying that being in your 50s is the new 40s because people live longer, love longer and enjoy a quality of life longer like no other time before. This week is all about being sexy today no matter what your age.

From Love Remains, where Tom's rejection makes Olivia actually feel sexier.



She hurried through her morning routine and left the bedroom. Tom sat at the table, slouched over a sheet of paper, tuned to his writing. His aftershave drifted to her and her breath caught at the sight of his toned body under the tight muscle shirt. The pen in his hand stopped moving. He looked up at her and offered a warm grin.
“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?”
“Like a baby. How about you?” She hoped redness wouldn’t spread over her cheeks with her lie.
“Babies wake every two hours.” He stood and gestured for her to sit next to him.
“Coffee?”
“Yes, please.” The words rushed out in an exhausted plea. She plopped on the kitchen chair and leaned her elbows on the table.
“I dreamt about you.” Tom's voice held more than a tinge of desire as he set her favorite coffee mug in front of her.
He stepped behind her to caress her shoulders and her self-control shattered. She melted under his magic fingers. They worked up her neck, cradling and tilting her head back. Her gaze met his.
She licked her lips to hide her trembling breath. “Funny you should mention it. I dreamt about you, too.”
“Hmm, good dream I hope.” He arched a brow. His finger circled her lips.
“Tom, how long are you planning to carry on this punishment?”
“For as long as I see fit.” His voice dropped to a husky tone.
She pushed her knees tight together. Naughty thoughts flooded her mind. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you just spanked me and I promised to be a good girl?”
He brushed the hair off her shoulder and whispered in her ear. “Haven’t done any spanking in a while, but I may still.”
This time she couldn’t suppress her gasp. Powerful arousal rushed heat from her core all over her body. She yanked her head free from his hold. “If you’re not going to carry it out now, please stop this teasing.”
To her relief, he returned to the chair where his mug and paper waited. He exhaled. A wicked grin on his face carried a certain promise. “One of these days. Maybe.”
She studied him. If the deep lines on his forehead and stiff posture were indication, he must be suffering as much as her. Strange as it seemed, his delay of taking her to bed incited her lust more. Bringing the coffee to her lips, she blew on the steam and took a sip. Perfect as always. Her hunch proved right. He was dominant in the bedroom and this teasing must be some unspoken rules he had for his wife. A deeper desire stirred in her loins.


Blurb: Olivia Owen, a busy, single, high-functioning, corporate executive officer, is not afraid to die a spinster for the sake of her career. But in an alternate reality world, bridged by the angel of her Down’s syndrome sister, she meets Tom Medar, a dedicated, Croatian defense attorney who dreams of the right woman, but never has time to find her. Together they foil an adulterous murder plot while discovering there’s room for love and family in their busy lives—but not before they are separated again.
When they awaken from their alternate world, will they be able to cross countries to find each other again?

Pick up a copy for your

For more of My Sexy Saturday, visit all of the participating blogs below. 


Friday, May 1, 2015

Sexy Me Down ~ @MySexySaturday #MySexySaturday #Saturday7 #MSSAuthors #MSS90




Welcome to the 90th week of My Sexy Saturday.

This week’s theme is Sexy Me Down and this is like doubling down in gambling. We’re sure you wonder what we mean but just look up what the term double down means…to double or significantly increase a risk, investment or other commitment. Hmmm…now think about lovers who are committing their all but not quite sure the other is committing the same amount.




He lowered to the couch, stretched his long legs out and propped his back with a cushion. Judging by his relaxed pose, she didn’t need to sweat if he’d be in the mood. She slouched to grab the garbage bag from the box.
“I’ll take a couch.” His voice reached her and she almost bumped her head on the piping.
She straightened and faced him. Okay, despite her indisposed condition, she had hoped they’d share her bed, however small, but clearly he had a different game on his mind. “Are you sure? It’s lumpy. It’s better to sleep on the floor cushions.”
“Don’t worry about me.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “I’m used to sleeping on all kind of beds. There’s not much choice in hospitals and night shifts can be exhausting.”
His words extinguished the last kindle of her hope. Shoving the ripped clothes into the garbage bag gave her an excuse to not to maintain eye contact. “I’ll get you some bedding in a moment.”
God, could he hear disappointment in my voice? It was her raging hormones. Damn that time of the month. Her face heated, and she hid behind the linen closet door, shifting through the sheets she could put on the couch. Once her heart rate returned to normal, she emerged, holding the double-sized set. “Let me pull the sofa bed out. The couch is small for you to stretch.”
“No rush.” He patted the couch cushion next to him. “It’s barely seven in the evening.”
“Oh.” How stupid of her. So focused on getting him into bed, she’d completely lost her mind. “Sorry, felt like it’s later than it is.”
“If you’re tired, feel free to turn in for the night, but I was hoping you’d stay up with me.” A slow smile bloomed on his face and melted any doubt. No matter how tired she might be, she would stay up with him.
“Of course.” She shuddered. How on earth to occupy him and get her mind out of the gutter? In her past, she never spent the whole day, and a night, with a man. God, he must think me pathetic. “Do you want to watch TV or we can put a movie on?”
“Come here.” He tapped the empty couch next to him.
In a few slow steps, she approached him and lowered to the couch. Left bereft of words, she fiddled with her fingers.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. His features softened for the first time since they've returned from the restaurant, and so did his voice. “I don’t think you’re pathetic. I was clear when I said it’s not an appropriate time to start a new relationship. Sometime in the future we’ll have the rest of our lives together. I gave you my pinky promise. And I’m a man of my word. I’ll find you.”
Her chest squeezed. He would keep his word he’d given her in the beginning and disappear from her life once he was done telling his story. A deal was a deal, only now she wished she’d made a different arrangement.


KATE ROKOV‘s grades are plummeting. She needs to get the voice out of her head or she will flunk her finals.
MATTHIAS ZRIN, a three centuries old immortal, born into an aristocratic family as Miles Rušinić, is enthralled with Kate. It is his voice preventing Kate from sleeping and her ignorance is testing his limits. He wants her to write down his story to settle his wife’s earthbound spirit. His tragic love story has become Kate’s obsession since fifth grade during her summer trip to Rušinić castle.
Their coming together settles the old spirit and breaks an ancient curse, and in doing so, a flame spanning over three centuries reignites and burns with wild desire. In this tale of two life times and desire versus emotional need, both know some dreams will have to wait for the right time, but the magic between them is impossible to withstand.
You can pick up a copy for your
Kindle
Kobo
Nook
iPad

Be sure you continue on and stay sexy by visiting all these participating blogs. 


Thursday, April 30, 2015

Hot for Friday: Hot and Swoon Worthy




A Hot and Swoon Worthy line from your Book Boyfriend,  breath taking, heart stopping, panty dropping...

From Love Remains, a paranormal romance published by Crimson Romance. 

Blurb: Olivia Owen, a busy, single, high-functioning, corporate executive officer, is not afraid to die a spinster for the sake of her career. But in an alternate reality world, bridged by the angel of her Down’s syndrome sister, she meets Tom Medar, a dedicated, Croatian defense attorney who dreams of the right woman, but never has time to find her. Together they foil an adulterous murder plot while discovering there’s room for love and family in their busy lives—but not before they are separated again.

When they awaken from their alternate world, will they be able to cross countries to find each other again?




Electricity charged the air around them and boosted her arousal. She pushed away
from the wall, backing Tom towards the bed. He slid his tie over his head and she gripped
the fabric of his shirt, then yanked it apart, sending tiny buttons in all directions. Her
hands glided on his rock hard chest.
She stripped off his ruined shirt and pushed on his bare shoulders. He dropped to the
bed and raised his hips, allowing her to slide his pants off. She straddled him. “We’ll do it
my way this time.”
He teased her nipples through the thin lace by brushing his palms over her hardened
nubbins. “Oh, yeah, tonight you take charge.”
Her breath stuck in her throat and she let out a cry of surprise when he slid his hand to
her crotch and pulled the snaps free. His finger found her tingling clit and gave it a

satisfying rub.

For more pick up a copy for your

Visit all of the participating blogs and stay hot on this Friday. 

1. Mel Curtis  5. Kate Hill/Saloni Quinby  9. Ari Thatcher   
2. Susan Ann Wall  6. Writing Dreams  10. Marla Josephs  
3. Denisea Kampe  7. Daryl Devore  11. Chris Marie Green  
4. Liv Rancourt  8. Victoria Adams  12. Normandie Alleman