Monday, April 20, 2015

Weekend at Starfest #characters #pictures #starfest

This past weekend I did a first...a book signing at a Denver area Starfest on Saturday and Sunday. Met a lot of interesting people, made some connections for future events and future interview possibilities for the Night Owl Reviews magazine Behind the Scenes column I write. The book sales were so-so, but the show was terrific and I had fun hanging out with my table-mate, Lisa Fender.

Thought I'd share a few of the pictures from the event.

They did a great job on this!

This guy blinked and definitely got people's attention.

My buddy Lisa Fender at our table

Courtney Farrell...great to see her again!

These little darlings were ADORABLE!

Fun green ladies!

Her dragon was impressive. Moved & made noise!


Friday, April 17, 2015

Friday Spotlight - Dominique Eastwick #Shermanseries #romance

Dominique Eastwick, gives us Tony's Haven, from the Sherman Series, in the spotlight this week. In addition to writing books, she also created the Wiccan Haus series, that with the closing of Musa Publishing, has been picked up by Decadent Publishing. Watch for books in the series releasing by various authors.

Tony's Haven
Author:  Dominique Eastwick       




Tony Sherman may be a modern day Adonis and a well-known ladies' man, but hiding beneath his carefree, playboy persona is a man no one really knows. He keeps his desire to protect all those he loves from being seen by anyone, particularly his family. Fate intervenes when he uses his charm to beg a favor from a co-worker, a women as unaffected by his charisma as she is by his looks.

Haven Pelletier is anything but the kind of woman usually found on Tony's arm or in his bed. She's mousy and rubenesque, unmoved by his Adonis appearance. But when circumstances bring them together, she sees right through his tarnished armor—to the true man underneath.

As Haven learns more about Tony, she discovers a man who might just steal her heart if she lets him. Can Tony be the knight in shining armor Haven needs? Or will the secrets in his past keep them both from finding happiness?


Her lips moved under his, begging him to open to her, begging him to give her a try. She took his hand and placed it on her full breast. Her nipples immediately pearled in his hand.

His mind screamed to stop this now, but his body didn’t seem to be listening. From the moment her soft, full lips touched his, he was putty in her hand. His only hope of survival was that she had not yet become aware of it.

"J.C.—" He moaned into her mouth and said unconvincingly, "We can’t do this."

"Shh." She pressed her breast further into his hand. "Just feel me; let me feel you."

"Jacinda, will you listen to me?"

"Not if your words have anything to do with 'this isn’t right' or 'Jacinda, this can’t happen between us.'"

"Exactly, that is—"

"Shh." Jacinda put her fingers against his mouth. Electrical vibrations hummed through her fingertips into his lips. "Please let me do this for you. I want to taste you."

Five words were his undoing. [i] I want to taste you--[/i]

Hunter didn’t care any more; honor be damned! He wanted her. She knew that. She could feel his arousal against her stomach. His cock was straining against his jeans now, begging to be set free. He was on the edge, wanting so much for her to touch him, to help release the agony he had felt ever since she got out of the pool this morning, soaked to the skin.

He kissed her with an urgency born out of need and desire. Somewhere in the last few minutes, his body and brain stopped communicating. His body just took over. He no longer cared that this could jeopardize his long-standing relationship with Tony. Never mind the rest of the Sherman clan. He no longer cared that this was something he had promised himself wouldn’t happen. He only cared that he couldn’t get enough of her. He drank from her and was still thirsty.

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Monday, April 13, 2015

Would You do a Childbirth Reality Show? #realityshow #inthewild

Watched a few minutes of the Meredith Vieira show this morning where they discussed a reality show based on childbirth in the wild. Yikes! Can you imagine a couple dropped in the middle of nowhere to have baby the caveman way?

Forget the misery of the first few months, though some breeze through those issues, delivery of the bundle of joy you've carried inside your body is a new experience.

Having given birth to two children there is NO way in hell you'd see my signature on the dotted line for this show. Said childbirths taught me a big never know how things will go. Just because the first push-out went smoothly (and with drugs) doesn't mean the same can be said for the second time around.

The first delivery, in a hospital after three days of labor, had the benefit for me of an epidural. The birth itself went well too.

The second, also in a hospital, but not so smoothly. In fact, if I had not been in the hospital we may have lost the child, and things happened so quickly because of the issues, forget an epidural. Yeah, didn't find au natural to be a lot of fun, but then I'm not into pain.  Guess that means I can kiss any thoughts of a BDSM dungeon goodbye.

From my experience, and the experience of others whom I talked with over the years who had issues, the idea of going off into the wild to spend the last days of your pregnancy and experience the birth makes me wonder why? In today's world does it make sense for someone to intentionally put themselves in a position to cause danger to them, the baby, or both? Sure, there is all the wonderful crew lurking around (yep, they do that on those reality shows) and probably will have a doctor, physician assist, or at very least a nurse, but what if? What if complications happen where there is need of a hospital? What if that emergency helicopter on standby can't make it in because of the weather. What if the baby or mother dies? Can you say "lawsuit" no matter how many papers have been signed?

So, my questions to you. Is this a reality show you would sign up to be on? Or if it does come to be, would you watch it?

Friday, April 10, 2015

Dare to discover Jessica Aspen #Fantasy

Jessica Aspen's new release debuts today!!! Happy dancing.
Dare to discover Jessica Aspen's fantasy prequel to BROKEN MIRROR, book three in her spicy fantasy romance series.

Lost in Underhill and separated from her sister by a powerful fae spell Cassie must help her mother and herself get back to Earth. But, strange beasts, evil spirits, and fierce warriors stand in their way. Will they ever get home, or will the last battle with the faery queen prove their undoing?

When the Black Queen of the fae sends ogres to attack their safe-house in Albuquerque, the three remaining MacElvy witches are forced to use a mystical fae globe to escape. But things go very wrong. When Cassie comes-to her sister, Bryanna, has disappeared and Cassie and her mom are stranded in the lands of the fae. With nothing but their magical Gifts to help them they must find Bryanna and make their way home through Underhill, a magical land where strange beasts, evil spirits, and fierce warriors stand in their way. Or will the evil Black Queen track them down and kill them before they can make it to safety?

Looking for romantic elven tales of witches and the fae? Looking for twisted fairy tale romance? Looking for sexy paranormal romance? If you enjoy this prequel, check out the other spicy, fantasy romances in the series, TALES OF THE BLACK COURT, and discover your imagination.
Take a closer look:

To learn more about Jessica and check out all her books:

Friday, April 3, 2015

Desiree Holt is in the Spotlight! #erotic #new

This week we are delighted to share Desiree Holt's upcoming release - DOUBLE DOWN

He wanted her badly enough to DOUBLE DOWN on an outrageous bet.
DOUBLE DOWN - Available April 7

Preorder Now!
A Recommended Read from All Romance eBooks
Lee Sullivan has really got her life together, as the mayor’s publicity chief and the respected Domme, Mistress Star. She doesn’t foresee any bumps in her life until she meets Branch Colby, self-made millionaire and a man who pushed her buttons. She has no idea that he is a full-out Dom who sees women as a challenge and this one more than most. When Branch’s friend Max bets him he cannot get Lee to submit to him, Branch agrees to a high-stakes wager. The problem is he never expected to fall for her or what the consequences would be when she learned the details of the bet. He has to find a way to repair the situation and she has to decide whether giving her heart is worth the risk.
Max sobered. “I don’t think I can thank you quite enough for giving me a piece of Colby, Inc.”
“In the beginning, it was a piece of nothing,” Branch recalled. “We’ve been lucky. Besides, you earn it every day keeping my ass legal and putting up barricades against the bloodsuckers.”
They both raised their glasses in a silent toast and then drank.
“So.” Max grinned. “I saw the mayor’s publicity flack here today. His honor too tied up to make it?”
“I guarantee you, whatever conflict Vincent had he couldn’t get out of. He never misses a chance to suck my dick.”
“Personally, I’d rather have her doing it. Although that really isn’t her style.”
Branch lifted an eyebrow. He had gotten no vibes from Lee Sullivan that she preferred women to men, and he was usually very good at picking that up.
“Are you telling me she bats for the other team?”
Max burst out laughing. “Far from it. You just hang out in the wrong places.”
Now Branch was getting irritated. “Do you want to tell me what the hell you’re talking about?”
“I guess you spend too much of your playtime at Ultra. Or your own bedroom.” Max laughed again, as if enjoying some kind of secret joke. “Unlike me. I like variety.”
“So you’ve visited Infinity. So what?”
Yeah, so what? One of the many things that bound their friendship so tightly was the fact that, after a friend had taken them to a public dungeon in their twenties, they had both realized they had strong Dom tendencies they needed to pursue. They soon found, if they wanted to play, they had to take instruction, and what an experience that had been.
“Enough of this shit.”  Branch leaned forward. “Whatever’s on your mind, spit it out.”
“You know how Ultra has its own celebrities, Doms and Dommes who everyone wants time with? Oh, wait.” He snapped his fingers. “Aren’t you one of them? Right! Master B. The subs line up for an hour of your time.”
“You are really pissing me off here, Max. What does this have to do with Lee Sullivan?”
“Infinity’s got its own celebrities, too, which you’d know if you ever got a guest pass like I did.”
“And?” Branch made a “come on” motion with his fingers.
“And I discovered when I visited there that the most in-demand Domme is Mistress Star.” Max leaned forward, watching his friend intently. “Who in real life is known as Lee Sullivan.”
Branch felt as if someone had taken a cattle prod to his balls. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Not a bit.” Max was obviously enjoying the reaction. He got up and went to the bar to refresh his drink. “I was given to understand that male submissives sign up well in advance to spend time with her.”
Branch frowned. “Was she there the night you were? Did she see you?”
“No.” Max shook his head. “I was in the lounge, in a corner with some friends, when she came in before a session.” He grinned. “She had a damn good-looking sub waiting for her. Anyway, I wanted to be sure I wasn’t mistaken, so I asked the friend I was with.”
“If it was her, you mean?”
“Uh huh. Because my friend knew I’d keep my mouth shut. Infinity is no different than Ultra. No one ever discusses anything outside those walls. Not who they saw or who did what with whom. You know very well there are people who live the lifestyle who make it known to anyone who asks them. Many of the couples even socialize outside the club, but you know the unwritten rule—what happens at the club stays at the club.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t do me any good to ask you to get me some details on her.”
Max shook his head. “You know better than that.”
About Desiree:
Known the world over as The Oldest Living Erotica Author, Desiree Holt proves every day that she is more than the sum of her years and more than the grandmother who plays with Barbie and Ken dolls: She is The Hardest Working Erotica Author, producing one novel or more each month and receiving rave reviews.
She is twice a finalist for an EPIC E-Book Award, a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award for best BDSM book of the year, winner of the Holt Medallion, multiple winner of the Whipped Cream Book of the Week Award and is published by five different houses. She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today, The Wall Street Journal, The London Daily Mail and numerous other national and international publications.
“Get out the ice water and fan…Desiree Holt delivers smoking hot alpha heroes and red hot romances.” Lea Franczak, USA Today Happy Ever After blog
Learn more about her and read her novels here:
Pinterest: desiree02holt

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Marci Boudreaux's New Release and her #contest

Today is a little different. In order to help Marci Boudreaux launch her new release I opened up today for her. Enjoy her excerpt and enter the contest!
Thank you for having me, Lizzie.

 I’m so happy The Road Leads Back is now available. This book really was a labor of love. A very long, painful labor…

This book wasn’t intended to introduce my Stonehill Romance series. In fact, when I wrote this there was no series. My editor, who was at the time working on what became the second release in this series, sent me an e-mail breaking down what I had unintentionally done: started a series.

After I wrapped my mind around how The Road Leads Back opens the series by bringing Kara Martinson home after being gone for almost 30 years, I took off running. I now have five books planned for the series.

I have to confess, though, one of the books is Unforgettable You, which was previously published by Musa Publishing. When the house closed, reverting the rights back to me, I realized it fit perfectly into what I had already done. Unforgettable You will be re-released as part of this series in January 2016 with a few tweaks to tie it in.

My release schedule as planned for now is to have a new Stonehill Romance out every three to four months through 2016.

This is unchartered territory for me. I’ve never gone into writing with a plan. I’m a fly by the seat of my pants kind of writer, so we’ll have to sit back and see how this plays out. It should be interesting!

Until then, let me take a few more minutes of your time to introduce you to Harry and Kara.

Kara Martinson and Harry Canton weren’t exactly high school sweethearts, but they did share one night neither will ever forget. Twenty-seven years later, Harry surprises Kara at an art gallery opening and discovers he left her with more than just memories when he went away to college. Desperate to connect with the family he never knew existed, Harry convinces his son to move to Stonehill—and pleads with Kara to come, too.
Kara hasn’t stepped foot in their hometown since the day she was sent away to a home for unwed mothers. Now Harry’s back in her life and as they put together the pieces of their parents’ betrayal, old heartaches start to feel anew. She wants to be near her family, but returning to Iowa means facing some things…and some people…she isn’t quite ready to.

Can Harry convince her to forgive the people who betrayed her so they can embrace the future they were robbed of so long ago? Or will the pain of the past be too much for Kara to overcome?



Kara squeezed her way toward the crowded bar, nudging between two kids who she couldn’t quite believe were old enough to be legally drinking in public. Shouldn’t they be funneling cheap beer in a college dorm somewhere? Or sneaking shots from Daddy’s liquor cabinet?

Art gallery openings used to be much more sophisticated than this. When she was a young artist, openings were about appreciating the art and the artist, not the free booze.


Had she really gone there? Kara shook her head at her bitter thoughts.

The bartender, a walking tattoo with spiked black hair, leaned close so she could hear him. “What’ll it be?”

She realized all she wanted was wine. And quiet. The kids around her were acting more like pre-teens jacked up on sugar than art aficionados. One made a face, squished and reddened, as he held up an empty shot glass as proof of his triumph.

She wondered when she had gotten so damned old. She never used to snub her nose at a good drink. Actually, she completely understood what her problem was, and it had nothing to do with age. She’d conformed. She’d fallen into line. She’d done what she was supposed to do. Agent? Check. Gallery opening? Check. Interviews with all the local fancy-pants magazines? Check.

But this wasn’t her. None of this was her.

Frowning, she leaned in as well, making sure he heard her over the jeering of the kids next to her. “Tequila.” Within seconds he set a glass in front of her and filled it with amber liquid. He started to walk away but she held up one hand and lifted the glass with the other. She downed the drink, slammed the glass down, and gestured for another—one shot wasn’t nearly enough to numb the misery of this evening.

The young man lifted his brows and smirked as he gav­­­e her another shot. He laughed as she motioned for him to fill the glass a third time. “I can’t do this all night, lady.”

“One more.”

“Some of the crap in here costs more than my car. No puking. Got it?”

Kara chuckled. Clearly he didn’t recognize her as the artist who had made the crap. “Honey, I was doing tequila shots before your daddy dropped his pants and made you.”

The barkeep threw his head back and laughed, then filled her glass one more time. “Nice one, babe.”

Babe? Kara snorted as she lifted the glass. It was almost to her lips when a hand squeezed her shoulder.

 “Kara?” asked a deep, smooth voice as if the man wasn’t certain who he was touching.

She turned. Her eyes bulged as she looked into an intense dark gaze she hadn’t seen since the night she’d lost her virginity.

The music had been loud, the beer lukewarm, and everybody who was anybody—and several nobody’s like Kara and Harry—in their senior class of Stonehill High was at the graduation party. The only person she had cared about, though, didn’t care about her. Or so she’d thought. Until she’d somehow ended up on Shannon Blake’s disgustingly pink- and ruffle-covered bed with Harry Canton, book club president and algebra superstar, clumsily removing her clothes, leaving slobbery kisses in their wake.

Kara swallowed hard as the flash of a memory faded, and the man standing before her, looking as shocked as she felt, came back into view.

She downed the liquor, slammed the glass against the bar, and sighed before she announced, “I’ve been looking for you for twenty-seven years.”

He sank onto the vacant stool next to her and lifted his hands as if he were at a loss for words. Something that appeared to be guilt filled his eyes and made his full lips sag into a frown. She’d be damned if temptation didn’t hit her as hard as it had when she was a hormonal teen.

“I wanted to tell you I was leaving,” he said, “but I didn’t know how.”

“You should have tried something like, ‘Kara, I’m leaving.’”

“You’re right. But I was a kid. I didn’t have a lot of common sense. All I could think about was how I finally had my freedom.”

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “You had your freedom? You selfish prick.”

His eyes widened. “Well, that might be a little harsh. I was just a kid, Kara. Yes, I should have told you I had no intention of staying with you, but I was a little overwhelmed by what had happened. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?

Harry’s shoulders slumped, as if he had given up justifying sneaking out on her in the middle of the night. “Look, I saw a flier for your gallery opening, and I wanted to say hello. I thought maybe… I don’t know what I was thinking.” He sounded hurt, dejected even. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He stood. She put her hand to his chest and shoved him back onto the barstool. The move instantly reminded of her their one night together. All of seventeen and totally inexperienced, she’d fancied herself a seductress and pushed him on the bed before straddling his hips like she had a clue what she was doing.

Touching his chest now, warmth radiated through her entire body.

She glared, pulling her hand away and squeezing her fingers into a fist. “Are you living in Seattle?”

He shook his head. “I had a conference in town. There were fliers at the hotel. As soon as I saw your picture, I knew I had to come.” His smile returned and excitement oozed from his face. “I can’t believe you have a gallery opening. This is amazing, Kare.”

She wasn’t nearly as thrilled by her accomplishment as he seemed to be. She felt like she was selling her soul instead of her art. She’d always preferred to go the indie route, but that crap agent had cornered her at a particularly vulnerable moment and convinced her she needed him…just like he convinced her she needed to be in a gallery. Although, now she was glad she’d conceded on the open bar.

The tequila swirled through her, making her muscles tingle, preventing her from fully engaging the near-three decades of anger she’d been harboring. She had spent an awfully long time wanting to give Harry Canton a piece of her mind.

Even so, hearing him say she’d done something amazing warmed her in a way very little ever had. If he had come looking for another one-night stand, she hated to admit that she would consider reliving that night again—only this time with more sexual experience and less expectation of him sticking around.

He might be almost three decades older, but his face was still handsome and his brown eyes were just as inviting as they had been when he was a high school prodigy and she was a wallflower.

She smirked at a realization: he was in a suit, probably having just left a corporate meeting, while she was wearing a red sari-inspired dress at her gallery opening.

He was still the straight arrow. She was still the eccentric artist.

“Did you hear what I said, Harry? About looking for you for the last twenty-seven years.”

His shoulders sagged. “I never meant to sleep with you that night. I mean”—he quickly lifted his hands—“I was leaving and should have told you before taking you upstairs. I shouldn’t have just left like that, but I didn’t think you wanted to see me again anyway. If it’s any consolation,” he said giving her a smile that softened the rough edges of her anger, “I’d been working up the courage to kiss you since junior year when you squeezed a tube of red paint in Mitch Friedman’s hair after he made jokes about Frida Kahlo’s eyebrows in art class.”

She frowned at him. That hadn’t been her finest hour. Then again, neither was waking up thinking she was starting a new life as a high school graduate and the girlfriend of the cutest boy she’d ever met, only to find the other side of the homecoming queen’s bed empty. “There’s nothing wrong with a woman embracing her natural beauty.”

His smile faded quickly. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding sincere. “I shouldn’t have left you like I did. I hope you believe that I regret it. Not being with you,” he amended, “but leaving without explaining.”

She laughed softly. He’d had that same nervous habit in high school. He’d say what was on his mind and then instantly try to recover, afraid his words had come out wrong. Usually they had. For as awkward as she’d been, at least she’d always been able to say what she meant and to stand behind it. Of course, that ability got her in trouble more often than not.

She’d told herself a million times that Harry didn’t owe her an explanation. They hadn’t been in any kind of relationship. She’d drooled over him from afar, but other than an occasional smile in the hallway, he’d barely acknowledged her existence in high school. Even if he hadn’t gone off to start his Ivy League college career the day after graduation, he likely never would have looked at her again. Well, at least not until she could no longer hide the truth of their one-night stand from the world.

 “I expected so much more from you, Harry,” she said sadly, the sting of what he’d done back then numbed slightly by the tequila.

His shoulders sagged a bit. “I know.”

“Why didn’t you ever write me back?” Her voice sounded hurt and pathetic. She was surprised that after so many years of being angry, there was still pain hiding beneath her fury. “I must have sent you a hundred letters.”

He creased his brow. “Letters? I didn’t get any letters.”

Kara searched his eyes. He looked genuinely confused.

“I sent them to…” Her words faded. Suddenly the tequila-induced haze wasn’t so welcome. “Your mother said if I wrote to you, she’d make sure you got my letters.”

“My mother? I never got any letters.”

“But you sent money.”

Harry shook his head slightly. “What the hell are you talking about? Why would I send you money?”

She stared at him as realization set in. He hadn’t responded to her letters because he hadn’t received her letters. And if he hadn’t received the letters, he hadn’t sent her money. And if he hadn’t sent her money, he hadn’t known that she needed it. Sighing, she let some of her decades-old anger slip. Her head spun, either from the alcohol or the blurry dots she was trying to mentally connect. Leaning onto the bar, she exhaled slowly. “She never told you, did she?”

“Told me what?”

Kara couldn’t speak. Her words wouldn’t form.

An arm wrapped around Kara’s shoulder, startling her and making her gasp quietly. She turned and blinked several times at the man who had just slid next to her.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I need to get home.” Leaning in, he kissed her head. “Congratulations on the opening, Mom. It was great.”

“Um…” She swallowed, desperate to find her voice. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She flicked her gaze at the man sitting next to her. The longer Harry looked at her son, the wider Harry’s eyes became.

Phil cast a disapproving glance at Harry then focused on his mother again. “Don’t forget that Jess is expecting you to make pancakes in the morning. You promised.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Kara returned her attention to Harry. His jaw was slack and his cheeks had grown pale.

Phil nodded at Harry as if he were satisfied that he’d made the point that his mother didn’t need to be staying out all night and walked away. Harry watched him leave while Kara waved down the bartender and pointed at her glass. The tattooed kid hesitated, likely debating the ethics of giving her another shot. She pointed again, cocking a brow for emphasis, and he finally filled her glass.

“Kara…” Harry’s voice was breathless, like he’d been kicked in the gut. “Was…was that my…son?”

No. His mother definitely hadn’t given him the letters Kara had written. She lifted her shot, toasting him. “Congratulations, Harry. It’s a boy.”




 Sorry, but I do have to put in one little rule here. International shipping is crazy expensive. If the winner is not in the Continental US, you will receive an e-copy of The Road Leads Back and your choice of one of my backlist.

 About Marci:


Marci Boudreaux lives with her husband, two children and their numerous pets. 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.

As well as writing erotica under her pen name Emilia Mancini, Marci is a content editor for Lyrical Press, an imprint of Kensington Publishing. She earned her MS in Publishing from University of Houston-Victoria in 2014 and worked with Des Moines publishing company Big Green Umbrella Media, Inc. as a freelance writer until she recently opted to focus on working in books.
For more chances to win and more tidbits on my series, please follow along with my hop:

Monday, March 30:  Rants and Raves by KaLyn Cooper

Tuesday, March 31: Christy Gissendaner

Wednesday, April 1: Sara Daniel

Thursday, April 2: Emilia Mancini (What? I'm totally allowed to host myself!)

Tuesday, April 7: Jianne Carlo

Wednesday, April 8: Parker Kincade

Thursday, April 9: The Gemini Girls and Sotia Lazu

Friday, April 10: Monette Michaels