Friday, November 20, 2015

Spotlight Friday: Leigh Goff #YA #witchtrials #history

The Real and Wicked Wethersfield Witches

by Leigh Goff

I’d like to introduce everyone to a little American witch history. The first American witch trials took place in Wethersfield, Connecticut, a historic Puritan town near Hartford, in the sixteen-sixties. During this time, the Puritan population of Wethersfield was suffering from bouts of sickness and mental fits, for which they blamed the devil, who was surely acting through powerful female vessels who had succumbed to his evil charms.

Neighbors spied on one another and casted blame on women like Rebecca Greensmith. In 1662, several witnesses spied her dancing, drinking, and making merry in the woods with other accused witches. Then a neighbor afflicted with fits of blasphemy accused Rebecca of bewitching her. The Wethersfield witch hunts were followed by trials presided over by the Reverend Increase Mather (his son, Cotton, grew up to be just like dad and, a few decades later, had his own hands bloodied with the Salem Witch Trials). Rebecca, who was not afraid to hide her wicked side, admitted to having conversations with the devil, claiming to form a pact with him, as well as colluding with other witches in the woods. Her shocking confession along with, in the Reverend Mather's judgment, her lack of fear for God, her familiarity with the devil, and her involvement in unnatural events, was enough for him to condemn her to death by hanging.

 The historical event left me to wonder…what if Rebecca's story did not end there? After all, she admitted to having an alliance with a powerful figure and she had a reputation for hexing neighbors. Who is to say she did not have time to take her vengeance on the Mather bloodline before the noose slipped over her neck?

This question along with the Wethersfield history inspired my newly released YA fantasy, Disenchanted, where Sophie Goodchild, my curious and impetuous sixteen-year-old half-witch protagonist, is a modern-day descendant of the aforementioned Rebecca Greensmith.

As Sophie struggles with her emerging magic and deals with a group of full-blooded witch frenemies, her impatience and curiosity lead her into trouble. She meets the mysterious Alexavier Mather, a descendant of Increase Mather who had a hand in hanging Sophie's ancestor at Gallows Hill. When he reveals his name, she immediately hates him, but senses he is hiding a dark secret and there’s nothing Sophie loves more than uncovering a good secret.

Danger finds her as she delves into the mysteries from both their families’ pasts. Then she begins to fall for the forbidden Alexavier who reveals that his bloodline is hexed with a true love curse that could destroy them.

Alas, there is hope. If Sophie can learn how to tap into the mysterious power of her blood-red diamond charm and find an ancient book of dark spells, she might be able to disenchant the Mather bloodline and save them both.

However, she must first deal with the deadly threat that is Alexavier’s father, Judge Mather, and he has a nasty secret of his own that will drive Sophie to make an impossible choice, one from which she may never return…


As the vision wore off, the glass jar tumbled from my fingers and smashed into tiny shards against the porcelain of the sink. I crumpled to the bathroom floor. The vision of Elizabeth’s last night was her final message. I cradled my face in my hands. My hatred for the judge was no different from Rebecca’s in its depth and darkness. I hated that it was, but I was going to need it. It would carry me through the ritual necessary to save Alexavier. I gripped the edge of the vanity and pulled myself to standing.

I touched my hand to my bloodcharm and dressed in the uniform then took a deep breath as I slid the ceremonial black robe off its hanger and tied the satin belt around my waist. I smoothed my hands against the front panels of fabric, feeling the cold silk against my fingertips. An icy trickle of darkness, the same liquid black ice I felt before listening to Judge Mather and Laney, traveled the length of my arm.

This time, I invited it in.

I felt the darkness tame my impetuous nature, allowing me to feed slowly on the hatred and control it. The coldness flowed through my veins and to the lengths of each limb. The icy darkness pooled in my chest and chilled my heart.

The change was beginning. “Elizabeth, I hope you’re right about the magic in me being able to change black hearts ’cause I’m going to need it for my own.”

The doorbell chimed, startling me to a more alert state. “Hold on,” I shouted. I opened the duffel bag and removed the knife and vial before tossing the robe in. I stuffed the small items in my skirt pocket and carried the bag with me downstairs, setting it in the foyer. I clenched my hands tightly together before opening the door. “Cal? What are you doing here?” I asked, shocked to see him on my doorstep.

“I was worried about you,” he said abruptly, entering the house and grabbing me by the hand.

“I don’t have time for this right now. I have a meeting with my aunt tonight,” I implored impatiently.

“A meeting?” He noticed the gray skirt and white shirt. “Not yet.” He led me to the kitchen and pulled a chair out.

He studied me and grimaced. “Sophie, I don’t know what’s going on, but I get the feeling you’re in trouble.” Perhaps it was his connection to tribal magic, but beyond his tough guy exterior, he was surprisingly intuitive.

“Cal, I’ll be fine. I’m a little stressed and tired, that’s all.” I blinked, feeling a strange weight on my lashes. I glanced at my hands, turning them over. My skin looked luminescent. Flawless. I smacked my lips together, feeling their plumpness.

He scrunched his face up as he eyed me. “Tired? You don’t look tired. Are you wearing makeup?”

I raced to the foyer mirror, out of Cal’s view. My heart-shaped lips bloomed a blood red, my lashes thickened and bowed upward like the arms of a goddess, a dewy glow radiated from my flawless ivory complexion, and as I watched, the messy knot unrolled down the length of my back into a wavy sea of glossy sable hair. My mouth fell open.

“I wasn’t finished.” Cal marched toward me. “Whoa. What is going on?”

I turned to him, having to act like I normally did. “Nothing.”

His eyebrows arched. “Something. Did you get a makeover in the last thirty-seconds?”

I gathered my silky hair and draped the long smooth tresses over one shoulder. “I’m trying something new. Don’t make fun.”

He shook his head, stupefied. “Whatever. I came here to give you something.” He took a breath as if to say something else, but he stopped. Our friendship had evolved and deepened into a mutual love for each other; a love between friends, but nonetheless sacred and forever.

I shook my hands at him. “Cal, don’t. It’s not...”

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and extracted a tangle of black leather string. Angst crossed his bronzed brow. “I want you to wear this.”

I glanced at the object resting in his open palm; a small wood carving attached to leather strands. The amulet was the size of a postage stamp.

“It’s a talisman carved from eucalyptus wood. It wards off evil spirits and will protect you.”

“Is this a white magic token?” He smiled without explanation. “Cal, it’s incredibly thoughtful of you. I love it. But I can’t take that.” I didn’t deserve to wear it at the moment, not as the darkness spread through me like the poison Romeo drank, silencing the warmth in my heart. My lips tingled. “Your mom wouldn’t like it.”

His lips twisted to the side and his expression was one of rejection. “I think she would be okay if she saw it on you.” He smiled, a hint of sadness seeped into the corners of his mouth. “Here...” He took my hand and looped the leather around so the talisman dangled delicately from my wrist. I could feel his gentle touch on my skin as he secured it. He placed his large hands on my shoulders and looked at me. “Promise you’ll be okay?”

A laugh cracked through my stress. “Promise.” Cal’s sentiment was deeply appreciated. He never failed to make me laugh, even as the temperature of my heart dropped.

He leaned in and kissed my cheek as a small tear escaped from my eyes. “You better be.” The doorbell rang again. It was too late to stop him. In one long stride, Cal turned the knob before I could move.

Alexavier stood in the doorway, glaring at Callum with disapproval and irritation. “Callum, what a surprise to find you here,” he said gruffly, sarcasm saturating his voice.

“I’m trying to take care of my girl.”

I didn’t want Cal to mess this up. I still needed one thing from Alexavier. Alexavier spoke directly to him. “Callum, I know you care about Sophie, but I can take care of her. She doesn’t need you.” He kept his voice low, but his tone was protective and threatening.

Callum stepped closer to him.

“Callum, this will not end well for you if you insist on challenging me,” Alexavier warned. His voice remained even, but his body was poised to fight if Callum insisted.

I wiped my cheek and stomped toward them. “Please, stop this. Please! I care about you both, but Callum, you need to go,” I pleaded, fearing Cal would snap. I pulled on Alexavier’s arm roughly to break the defensive eye contact he maintained with Callum.

“I’m not afraid, Mather. I also don’t need my fists to prove I’m the better man. Sophie will see that one day,” he snarled ferociously.

I flashed my eyes wide. My jaw jutted out. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was the last thing I wanted to deal with or could deal with and I feared what I would do under the influence of my choice. “Callum... leave now!” I didn’t care about hurting anyone’s feelings at the moment. My emotions were shifting beyond that.

He pushed past Alexavier in a huff to leave. Alexavier ignored the action, focusing his attention on me. I was relieved he didn’t engage Callum in a fight. He stood before me, astoundingly handsome in a blue button down shirt. He grasped my hands and looked deeply into my eyes. “What was that all about?”

My blackening heart skipped a beat. “I’m sorry about Callum. I don’t know what got into him.”

“Jealousy, I would say. I warned you.”

“I don’t want to believe that’s it.”

His fingers gently pressed against my hand and wrist, lifting them to inspect the talisman. “Did he give you this?” A combination of regret and jealousy lined his voice.

“It’s to keep evil spirits away,” I replied as I touched the wood carving with my fingertips.

He sighed. Our future was under a black cloud from the past where Rebecca’s curse and his father’s mistakes affected us in the present. And after tonight, even if the ritual went according to plan, there was no guarantee things would be the same or better for us. I was risking my life and my soul. Even if I survived breaking the curse and the reconversion, I would be different, changed, tainted from the black magic I had already invited into my heart and it might all be for nothing.

Buy Links:

Leigh Goff loves writing young adult fiction with elements of magic and romance because it's also what she liked to read. Born and raised on the East Coast, she now lives in Maryland where she enjoys the area's great history and culture.

Leigh is a graduate of the University of Maryland, University College and a member of the Maryland Writers' Association and Romance Writers of America. She is also an approved artist with the Maryland State Arts Council. Her debut novel, Disenchanted, was inspired by the Wethersfield witches of Connecticut and was released by Mirror World Publishing. Leigh is currently working on her next novel, The Witch's Ring which is set in Annapolis.

Learn more about Leigh Goff on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads.



Friday, November 13, 2015

Friday Spotlight: Marci Boudreaux Entertrains Again #newrelease #romance

I’m so thrilled that The Forgotten Path is now available! Some of you may know, I not only write contemporary romance as< b>Marci Boudreaux
, but I write steaming hot erotica as< b>Emilia Mancini.  This book really was a labor of love. A very long, painful labor…

Most of my books just flow. The stories are there and ready for the telling. Annie’s story was not like that. And it drove me freaking mad!
This story, much like the main character, was stubborn, impossible to move along when it wasn’t ready, but absolutely worth the trouble.
Annie, the heroine, doesn’t much care for emotions. She thinks emotions make her weak…or worse…vulnerable. She’s tough. Strong. Independent. And head over heels in love with her employee.
She would have been perfectly content to keep pretending not to have feelings for him, but Marcus is going to have none of that. He is just what Annie needs—someone just as tough and willing to push her to accept that she is, much to her dismay, human.
Just when Annie and Marcus get on the same page and take the steps needed in order for them to be together without corrupting her moral fiber, tragedy strikes and their love for each other is tested in ways neither of them would have ever imagined.
He bit his lip. Hard. As if trying to stop himself from saying what he was thinking. “Annie, I’ve been…”
Oh, God, don’t say it, she silently pled.
He tried again. “For the longest time…” He a humorless laugh left him as he let his words trail again. Finally, he met her gaze again. “You’re probably going to fire me, but—”
She shook her head. “I can’t fire you, Marcus. You’re invaluable. Whatever it is, I’m sure you can work it out.” She took a step and tried to squeeze by him. “Just take a few days off or…” Great. Now she was the one who couldn’t finish a thought. 
He dropped his hand to her hip, and she closed her eyes. His touch sent volts of electricity shooting through her, lighting every nerve. She wanted nothing more than to lean up and kiss the life right out of the man. For some reason, though, putting herself in a position where she could be sued for sexual harassment didn’t seem like a wise business move. Not that she thought Marcus would ever go that far, but people change. Situations get awkward and out of hand.
It was best to avoid the possibility of things going wrong between them and just ignore how much she wanted him.
“Marcus,” she whispered.
“I have been attracted to you for so long, Annie. I thought I was alone in this,” he said in the same hushed tone, “but lately I’ve started to think…you feel it, too.”
She licked her lips and lowered her face. Shit. He said it. The elephant in the room was out there now and neither could ignore it any longer. “I’m your boss.”
“I know.”
“I can’t. We can’t.”
“I know. But I swear to God, I’m about to lose my mind from wanting you.”
Oh, damn.
Her knees actually went weak, and she leaned back against the doorjamb to stay standing. 
“I think about you all the time. I know it’s wrong. But all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you.”
A whimpering moan left her as he closed the distance between them. He stopped a fraction of an inch from her mouth and, goddamn it, the temptation gripped her so hard she could barely breathe.
“Tell me you don’t feel the same,” he whispered. “Tell me to stop. And I will.”
She should. She had to. But the words wouldn’t leave her.
“Tell me to go to hell, Annie.”

As a teen, Marci Boudreaux skipped over young adult books and jumped right into the world of romance novels. She's never left. Marci lives with her husband, two kiddos, and their numerous pets. Until recently, she was a freelance writer appearing monthly in a variety of local magazines. She now focuses on writing and her work as a content editor.
Romance is her preferred reading and writing genre because nothing feels better than falling in love with someone new and her husband doesn't like when she does that in real life.

 Learn more about Marci Boudreaux on her< a href="">website
and blog. Stay connected on Facebookand Twitter.

Friday, November 6, 2015

Friday Spotlight: Carol Browne #poetry #speculativefiction

by Carol Browne

Photo by adamr.

As a voracious book reader, I have lived my life believing in the superiority of the printed book; then my beta-reader kindly gave me her Kindle. Once I had figured out how to use it (three weeks well spent), my perspective underwent a sea change.
When I bought my first eBook and saw it download to my Kindle, it was a magical moment. I was also delighted to discover the device doubles as a flash drive.

There’s something amazing about travelling around with an entire library of books at your disposal and in these days of multi-tasking, being able to read, eat and drink at the same time in total comfort is most welcome. To someone like me on a low income, the availability of cheap or free eBooks is a blessing too.
From an eco-friendly point of view, no trees are cut down to make eBooks. Digital publishing also allows more authors to put their work before the reading public, often publishing great work that traditional publishers have rejected because they aren’t commercial enough.

 I once assumed the device itself would be a distraction but, if you’re an avid bookworm, the body of an e-reader is no more of an intrusion than the body of a paperback; no more of a hindrance to your enjoyment than a screen is when you are watching a good movie.
Many will disagree. A teenage friend of mine prefers printed books because he likes the act of turning the pages. For me, the Kindle’s page-turning function is quicker and easier. Plus, you can say good-bye to the exasperation of having your bookmark fall out and not being able to remember where you were up to.

 Meanwhile, another friend of mine is changing her opinion about eBooks. While moving to a smaller house, she regretted her vast collection of paperbacks that would have to be accommodated in less space—and then discovered many of them were mouldy and infested with mites. Yuk. She’ll be buying her first Kindle soon!
There is still a place for printed books in my home. I have about a dozen I will always cherish, but these books belong to an exclusive club. It’s unlikely I’ll be adding new members.

Unless they’re written by me, of course.

Carol Browne writes speculative fiction, non-fiction, and poetry. She is also a ghost blog writer, proofreader, copy editor, and copywriter. Along with a passion for gardening, Carol is an avid animal lover. Stay connected with Carol on Facebook.

Friday, October 30, 2015

Friday Spotlight - Annie Anthony #f/f #erotic

Though I've read quite a few m/m books, One Exquisite Night is the first f/f book I've read. Annie Anthony does a great job of telling the story of two women who start out meeting up in a one night stand that grows into more as they learn about each other. Think the bottom line is, no matter if it's your standard male/female relationship or a same sex one, each one has the same be loved and appreciated.

One Exquisite Night
By: Annie Anthony


Allie Jordan is a 38-year-old single mother of two who didn’t come out—to herself—until late. Too late, she’s afraid. For just one night, she doesn’t want to be a remorseful ex-wife, stressed mother, and awkward lesbian.
A one night stand—or 1Night Stand—was not something Terra Rossi had ever experienced in real life, let alone something she’d ever thought she’d seek out and pay for. But after ending her decade-long relationship shortly after her fortieth birthday, she decides one night without secrets, without hiding is exactly what she needs.
When Allie and Terra meet, they share chemistry and an emotional connection. But when they open up to one another, the secrets and lies of the past threaten to shatter their tender connection. Can the past be overcome, or will what Allie and Terra share be no more than one exquisite night?

Buy One Exquisite Night: Amazon Buy Link

Monday, October 26, 2015

Friday Spotlight on Monday - Sloane Taylor #eroticromance

Since the blog login and I had a bit of an issue on Friday due to, I forgetting my login...I am sharing the spotlight schedule for then. You will enjoy what Sloane Taylor has to say!

Who needs safe and boring when you can play with a pirate on the French Riviera?
The answer to this curious enigma lies within the pages of French Kiss Naughty Ladies of Nice Book 4.

Burned-out author Rachel Conklin sparks her creativity on the French Riviera as a fishing boat cook. Things are smooth sailing until she’s thrown overboard into a storm-tossed sea. Rachel awakens to find herself staring into the eyes of a sexy pirate-looking hunk who changes the course of her life forever.
Dr. Henri Bernier is an analytical man with a quiet life and a job he loves. The last thing he expects to find when he anchors his treasured fishing boat in the sheltered harbor of a small island is an accidental mermaid washed ashore. He soon learns his perfect life leaves much to be desired.
Will desire save them or drown them in a perfect storm from their pasts?
Warm tingles started low in her belly and zinged straight to her clit. A sensation she’d long missed but not forgotten. His lips were strong, supple, and teasing her own apart. Rachel opened her mouth and glided her tongue along his lips, loving the salty taste. The rasp of his beard on her tender cheek shot a jolt of electricity to the tips of her pebbled nipples. Her muscles tightened as moisture filled her panties. She was alive and wanted more. Somehow she found the energy to lace an arm around the broad shoulders leaning over her and curl her fingers in his long silky hair.
Her nipples puckered more with each stroke as he glided his hand along her spine, continuing lower over the curve of her ass to her thigh. Wet sand greeted her when he smoothly rolled them over. With little effort her legs parted, welcoming her secret pirate.
Nope, make that swashbuckler. More romantic.
Shivers raced through her and he held her closer. His body heat, a beautiful thing, shrouded them. Her breasts grew heavier, straining against her wet shirt, as his solid erection pressed into her belly. She wiggled closer, wanting—no, needing—to feel him inside her.
Indistinguishable sounds filled her ears. Forgotten lyrics from an old, sweet love song? She wanted to remember, but not enough to give up her fantasy man and the erotic glow of mystery sex.
“Mademoiselle, s'il vous plaît. Où est la blessure? Je suis médecin et peux vous aider.”
His foreign words and rich baritone were sexy music against her lips. He wanted her. His tender touch proved he did. Her eyelids fluttered as he spoke.
“Mademoiselle? Mademoiselle.”
A sting smarted against her cheek.
“Oh no, Sweet Lips, I don’t do rough.” Her words came out slurred and incoherent. “Doesn’t matter how sexy you are. Now stop hitting me before I return the favor with my fist.”
“Wake up, mademoiselle.” He tapped her again, more lovingly. “I asked where you are injured. I am a doctor and will help you."
What a great dream.
Her fantasy lover had the perfect voice and was a doctor to boot. Mom would be ecstatic. She wrinkled her nose. He could have at least showered before his seductive appearance. Sweet Lips smelled like a cesspit.
“Dammit, Sweet Lips, this is my dream. We’re doing this my way.” She reached for him, but before she made contact he pried open her eyelid. “Look, man, you are not playing by fantasy rules. I get to make up the seduction. You just do as told. Got it?”
Mademoiselle, this is the reality. You are très hurt and in need of immediate medical attention. Now, s'il vous plaît, stop your prattle and answer my questions.”
Rachel’s other eye sprang open. Her swashbuckler was squatted and rocking back on his heels. His five o’clock was nearing ten and his soaked clothes weren’t in much better shape than hers. No way in hell was this mangy guy a doctor.
Her heart stopped. Literally froze in her body.
Gagnon’s man.
She inhaled deeply to slow her banging heart and edged farther away from him toward safety. He reached for her, his expression grim. Without thought, she pushed off with her left hand.
“Son of a bitch.” A kaleidoscope of stars exploded before her eyes, followed by another whitecap of nausea.
“It does not appear to be broken. At the least, you have a severe sprain.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, refusing to show weakness. “Ya think?”
He cocked an eyebrow. Warm chocolate eyes stared straight into hers. “Did you know, mademoiselle, some believe sarcasm is the lowest form of humor but the highest mark of intelligence?”
“Then you’re pretty intelligent too.”
He laughed, a warm hearty sound that wrapped around her, undermining her resolve.
“So if you’re a doctor, where’s your little black bag?”
A smile to melt an iceberg split his face. He reached behind him, and then brought forward a worn satchel.
“Well, I’ll be dipped.” She really had to curb her suspicions.
Excusez-moi,   but you already were.” His full lips twitched at the corners.
Good sense of humor.
He shrugged out of his rain slicker.
And muscular.
He draped the yellow, rubberized fabric around her shoulders. Instant warmth.

Sloane Taylor is an Award-Winning author who believes humor and sex are healthy aspects of our everyday lives. She carries that philosophy into her books. She writes sexually explicit romances that take you right into the bedroom. Being a true romantic, all her stories have a happy ever after.
Taylor’s books are set in Europe where the men are all male and the North American women they encounter are both feminine and strong. They also bring more than lust to their men’s lives.  

She was born and raised on the Southside of Chicago. Studly, her mate for life, and Taylor now live in a small home in Indiana and enjoy the change from city life. She’s an avid cook and post new recipes on this blog every Wednesday.  The recipes are user friendly, and easy.  
Currently Taylor has six erotic romance books and one box set either released or coming soon from Toque & Dagger Publishing. Excerpts from these books can be found on her website, blog, and all popular vendors. 
Subscribe to her short newsletter. Connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, and Google+. 

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Wednesday Travel: I Went, I Saw, I Loved #travel

Given my crazy efforts to have a book finished by the first part of December, I'm revising a few posts from years ago. The visit to the Sistine Chapel in Rome is one of my most memorable ones.

The conclave of 115 Cardinals in the Sistine chapel have a lot more room to move around than most visitors to the room Michelangelo turned into an artistic wonder. 
From the internet

A lot of days up to 20,000 visitors get kinks in their necks staring up at the ceiling.  Don’t be surprised when someone bumps into you in their attempt to walk and gawk upward.  Or you may get your toes stepped on by someone with the upward viewing affliction.
It is amazing the number of people who can’t read and/or are deaf, too. Signs prohibiting pictures are everywhere and announcements of ‘no picture taking’ are made often.  The shocked expressions on the faces of violators can be pretty funny.  A big guard shouting at them for the sneaky shot they attempted may not be fun to them, but to those trying to abide by the rules, the guilty ones attitude of offense is pretty entertaining.
Can't find my pictures, but found these on the internet.
Still, having the opportunity to view this amazing work of art, even if not able to do so undisturbed, is wonderful, and yes, I’m glad to have accomplished the viewing.  If you end up in Rome, make the Sistine Chapel a must see on your list of places to visit.  But, the need to book in advance may become necessary.  There are rumors the Vatican is considering limiting the number of visitors and one critic is especially keen for this to be done.  Pietro Citati, an Italian literary critic contends all the humanity squeezed into the room at one time leads to damage to the frescos.
Limited access or not, the visit is worth the effort and cost to see the masterpieces.  But if your goal is peaceful meditation, forget about it…at least for now.  Unless you’re lucky enough to be a Cardinal locked in the room with 114 of your peers, or are important enough to have the pull for a private viewing. Now that would be my dream!

Friday, October 16, 2015

Friday Spotlight: VA Dold #western #sciencefiction

Today's spotlight is on VA Dold's Lucas!

Krystal Le Beau hides a secret few know about: she is a psychic matchmaker. Little does Lucas know she’s worked her magic and set him up to meet his destiny.

Lucas Le Beau’s dream has come true. He owns a ranch of his own and he’s moving in. He thought he had everything he wanted...until the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen knocks him flat on his back. Now he can't think of anything but making that sweet redhead his own. Lucas is one determined wolf! He's not giving up on Kensie no matter how stubborn she is.

Kensie Brown is visiting her sister Jojo, and so far, she's managed to flatten the owner of the dude ranch, make Jojo mad, and somehow fall for a damn cowboy, knowing she's leaving in a few days. What was she thinking?

Will Kensie trust Lucas to save her when her life is threatened, and she has no one else to turn to?

Will Lucas get to Kensie in time to stop the man who wants to expose her to the world and destroy her?

Mix one stubborn Yankee workaholic, a determined cowboy wolf shifter, and meddling family, stir well and you have the recipe for a wild Texas ride.
It became glaringly obvious very quickly; men found her intimidating. She was too smart, too successful, too rich, too fat, and way too outspoken. Kensie never saw a reason to mince words, so she said it like it was. Apparently, people, especially men, didn’t care for that. Too flippin' bad, she was too old to change now.
A quick look around told her the barn was behind the incredible house she parked in front of. From where she stood, all she could see was a huge hipped roof. That had to be where Jojo was. She estimated the shortest path was around the attached four-car garage. Straightening her sunglasses, she headed toward the corner with determined purpose. The sooner she located Jojo, the sooner she could get into air conditioning.
Distracted by the beautiful landscape, Kensie didn’t watch where she was going. She rounded the corner of the garage and ran smack dab into a solid wall. What the devil was that doing there? Wait, that wasn’t a wall – what the heck was that?
One second she turned a corner and the next she somehow slammed into what felt like a brick wall, which had no business being there. No. Not a wall, a solid, very masculine, man. A gigantic Minnesota oak of a man, who was going down hard, and regrettably, taking her with him. As much as she wanted to change her fate, there was no way to stop what was about to happen. For a split second she considered yelling timber. She was screwed, and unless her calculations were terribly off, she was doomed to land in a very awkward position.
 After what felt like a lifetime, the manly oak hit the ground hard, with her splayed across him in a very unladylike, very sexual, way.
Good lord! I killed him! “Shiznit!”

V.A. Dold & Tori Austin are the Amazon best selling authors of the Award-winning Le Beau Series
& K.I.S.S. Series.
      Prior to becoming a full-time writer, she was publicist to the authors.
Her idea of absolute heaven is a day in the French Quarter with her computer, her coffee mug, and the Brothers, of course.
A Midwest native, with her heart lost to Louisiana & Texas. She has a penchant for titillating tales featuring sexy men and strong women. When she's not writing, she's probably taking in a movie, reading, or traveling. Oh, and there is the distinct possibility she is out cowboy hunting.
Connect with V.A. Dold:
·         Website
·         Facebook
·         Face book
·         Twitter
·         Twitter
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Friday, October 9, 2015

Spotlight Friday: Tina Donahue #eroticromance

To celebrate the upcoming release of Surrendering to the Beast,  Tina is giving away FIVE full-length, bestselling, award-winning romances to one lucky winner - 25 titles to choose from.
Surrendering to the Beast Paperback Look
(Book Two – Taming the Beast series)
Erotic Paranormal - Romantic Comedy 
by Tina Donahue
Available for pre-order September 13
Ready to read October 13
Surrendering to the Beast - Teaser 3

When she’s good, she’s very good. But when he’s bad, she’s better.
Taming the Beast, Book 2

As a good fairy, Heather is empathetic and chaste to a fault. No bad language, no dirty thoughts, flirting and no sex. But when a satyr named Daemon steps up to her reception desk at From Crud to Stud, she finds herself on the fast track to exquisite corruption.
Daemon is the total bad-boy package with a kiss straight from the dark side. Though he’s here for a supernatural makeover, Heather can’t imagine why any red-blooded woman would want him to change.
A disciple of the god of wine, Daemon has had his share of good times. But sex has never been this good. Heather brings out a new side of him, a side that makes him want to protect as well as pillage.
But Daemon needs a little creative backup to help set his fairy’s naughtiness free. And that means bringing in Mistress Jin. Under the genie’s tutelage and Daemon’s shameless lust, Heather is about to learn what it means to let loose.

Warning: Not your typical bedtime story. May lead to indecent behavior, a taste for voyeurism, discipline, bondage, m/f, m/f/f and f/f action, which will result in screaming orgasms. Proceed with caution.
Surrendering to the Beast - Teaser 1

Heather steeled herself to do battle with Satan. Cautiously, she faced her webcam and his image on her computer monitor. This evening, he’d assumed the form of a European playboy, a snifter of cognac held casually in one hand, dark hair slicked back, his blood-red ascot contrasting nicely with his white shirt and navy blazer.
He certainly knew how to dress.
Cara mia.” Heat smoldered in his voice and dark eyes. “What can I do to you?”
“For me,” she corrected gently, wondering when he’d ever get that right.
Grinning, he focused on her white peasant blouse and jutted nipples, her areolas tightened from the chilly weather, not him. Tonight was damp and cool thanks to a spring storm that continued to rage in the French Quarter. Lightning flashed and the office lights flickered.
Flames flared briefly in his pupils. “We’ll do many things to each other, no?”
Heather smiled politely, a knee-jerk reaction for a good fairy. Needing to get tough, she held up his overdue bill, hoping he’d look at it rather than her chest. Her hand shook so badly the paper rattled.
“How you tremble,” he cooed. “How pale you are. Allow me to put some color in your lovely cheeks. Heat that will last an eternity.”

Her skin got even clammier. “Please, just pay your account.” She waved the paper and talked fast before losing her nerve. “Your grandson failed to show for his last two appointments. I’m sure he had a good reason. Unfortunately, he didn’t call to cancel.” She offered an apologetic smile and pressed on. “Because you’re the cardholder, we had to charge you for the time. I’m so sorry, but it is the rule.”
One she was honor-bound to enforce as an employee of From Crud to Stud, a makeover service for supernatural beings. Howls from weres, hisses from vampires and obscenities from demons poured from the treatment rooms. Those poor souls were going through proverbial hell to suppress their beasts. They longed to date mortal women without freaking them out, while also winning their hearts the normal way. With real charm, not magic, with integrity and love, not lies and manipulation.
But these makeovers took the staff’s valuable time and clients needed to pay for the effort. Even Satan should understand that.
He gave her an indulgent smile. “What charges?”
Gasping, she dropped the flaming paper in her trashcan before it burnt her fingers.
“Later,” he said and killed the call.
Hurriedly, Heather put out the small blaze, chiding herself for letting the account get to this point. She should have been firm with Satan’s grandson when he signed up for the service. Determined to make up for being too nice, she brought up her bank account to pay the charges herself. She was about to transfer the funds when the lights flickered twice, thunder boomed and the front door flew open, banging against the wall.

She flinched.
A blast of dank air and rain blew inside, followed by a guy who looked to be thirty or so. He wore a black cowboy hat, snug navy tee, low-slung jeans and cowboy boots.
Once he shoved the door shut, he slumped against it, breathing hard.
Heather stood so quickly her chair rolled into the wall.
He didn’t notice. He’d closed his eyes and raised his face to the ceiling, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with his hard swallow.
Alarmed yet intrigued, she regarded the short, dark hairs on his throat and took the rest of him in. His rain-dampened hair was the color of dark chocolate, thick and wavy, flowing to his broad shoulders. They heaved with his next ragged breath. Tall, possibly six-three, he was lean yet muscular. His wet tee clung to his well-defined pecs and abs, those bruising biceps. Stubble covered his strong jaw, upper lip and cheeks. His bronze skin spoke of days in the sun.
Even from where she stood, Heather smelled his scent. Clean and masculine, a woodsy, fresh fragrance along with something else…the unmistakable odor of liquor.
Uh-oh. It wasn’t often that mortals, drunk or otherwise, happened upon this place. When they did, Heather had ironclad rules to follow. First, buzz Constance, a voodoo priestess who could remove memories by laying her hands on someone’s head. Following that, Heather was supposed to buzz Becca, a half-mortal witch who owned this place.
Heather leaned over her desk to press the intercom button.
The guy turned to her, blinked slowly and stared.
Her hand stalled.
His eyes were amazing, the color of Lipton tea, ringed by long, sooty lashes, his attention riveted as he drank her in. Given his slow, sexy smile, Heather suspected he was undressing her with his eyes.
She swallowed and was about to press the button when he groaned suddenly and mournfully, the sound of someone in serious pain.
Heather paused and decided not to call for anyone just yet. “Are you all right?”
Surrendering to the Beast - Teaser 2
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I’m an award-winning, bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance for Kensington, Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Siren Publishing, Booktrope, Luminosity, Decadent, and indie. Yay! Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised my work, and trust me, I’m forever grateful for that. I’ve had my books reach finals in the EPIC competition, one title was named Book of the Year at a review site, and others have won awards in RWA-sponsored contests. I’m actually featured in the 2012 Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Talk about feeling like a freaking star. Before my writing career, I was the editor of an award–winning Midwestern newspaper and worked in Story Direction for a Hollywood production company. Outside of being an admitted and unrepentant chocoholic, I’ve flown a single-engine plane (scary stuff), rewired an old house using an electricity for dummies book, and have been known to moan like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally whenever I’m eating anything Mexican or Italian. Yeah, I like to eat (burp).
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