The Written Word

2011-08-23T06:39:00.000-07:00

I'M BACK!!!!!!!!!!!

After several long illnesses and a world of computer pain, I'm back among the living.

To celebrate, I'm blogging with Marie Treanor at http://romanticthemeparty.blogspot.com/. Please stop by for an easy chance to win one or two my hottest Amber Quill books.

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-04-22T06:30:00.000-07:00

SPIRIT INTERVENTION

Born in England, Margaret West moved to the Kent countryside five years ago to get away from the busy life in London. She’s married with two grown children and has worked in various fields. She is a Clair-knowing medium, Crystal Therapist, Parapsychologist and Psychic development tutor.

Margaret has been writing for over 20 years and has numerous short stories, novels and articles published. She writes romance and paranormal novels, incorporating her spiritual experiences, into her books.

Below is a sample from her latest release.

SPIRIT INTERVENTION
Margaret West
ISBN 978-1-61572-282-2 E-Book
ISBN: 978-1-61572-283-9 Print
Eternal Press

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BLURB:
Patricia is a mother who refuses to stay out of her daughter’s life even when she dies. Sally can hear her mother, but she can't see her spirit. At first she welcomes her return, but as the month’s progress she starts to feel increasingly peeved by her mother’s constant interference in her life. When she tells a few white lies on a dating application form, Patricia sets out to prove that lies are not a foundation for a healthy relationship.

Patricia sabotages a relationship between Sally and Emilio to prove her point, not realising her interference has caused a catastrophic chain reaction in the spirit world. The children allocated to Emilio and Sally can no longer be born. It is now down to the spirit of Emilio’s grandmother to put things right. But has Patricia caused too much damage for her to mend?

EXCERPT:
Sally opened her eyes and sat up. She wished for the courage to say, come in and scrub my back, darling. Although her thoughts were filled with erotic images, her life was more ordered and mundane. She got out and dried herself off, combing her fingers through her curls, knowing they would erupt on her head in a mad tangle of tiny springs as they dried. With her underwear washed and drying on a radiator, Sally wrapped a towel tightly around herself. Conscious of her nakedness, she left the bathroom. She saw Emilio seated on a biscuit-colored sofa, looking freshly showered and dressed in a clean, white shirt and blue trousers.

You are a sexy goddess, she told herself as she walked toward him.

She sashayed closer and an effervescent pleasure washed over her as Emilio’s eyes widened. She dipped her eyes and flicked her lashes, which she hoped looked provocative. Sally met his smile with a slow one of her own.

“I’ve ordered breakfast. I hope you don’t mind. I chose a selection. We can eat while we wait for your clothes to come back from the laundry. In the meantime, you might be more comfortable in this.” He handed her a heavy, blue, shapeless bathrobe.

Disappointment pushed the smile from her face. Her attempt at seduction failed miserably. She might as well wear a dust sheet. Embarrassed, she snatched it from his hand and stalked to the bathroom.

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Learn more about Margaret West and her thrilling books on her website and blog.

Have a great weekend and a Happy Easter. I'll be back Tuesday with a new teaser. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
website

2011-04-20T06:05:00.000-07:00

TAMING TRITON

KC Kendriks has created another sizzler in her outstanding Southern Cross series. TAMING TRITON, book two, is a strong compelling story and written with heart.

TAMING TRITON
Southern Cross series Book Two
KC Kendriks
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-586-7
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure

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BLURB:
Austin Michaels accepts his brother’s standing invitation for a Caribbean vacation at his island resort. Some time in the sun is just what he needs to map out a plan for his future. He gets lucky and meets a handsome teacher willing to have a little vacation fling with, as long as they can keep things fun.

Steve Guthrie’s secret longings have haunted him all his life. It’s time to face his questions and find the truth of who he really is beyond a staid college professor. His love of the sea prompts him to take a vacation at a Caribbean hide-a-way for relaxation and reflection. A sexy stranger with a tattoo tempts Steve to abandon his plans, enticing him to share a vacation romp.

Now Steve’s the student in a high stakes class of one, and to pass the course, he has to tame his very own Triton.

INTRO:
“You’re early. I need to get a shower.”

Austin's grin widened. “I’ll come wash your back, Steve.”

I put my hands on my hips and stared him down. “You’ll go get something to open that bottle later. It won’t take me long to get rinsed off.”

He set the bottle on the table, opened a drawer, and held up a corkscrew. “They think of everything at the Southern Cross.”

“I’ve known you six hours, and you’re not climbing in the shower with me, Austin.”

His gaze locked with me, gluing my feet to the floor as he stepped in front of me. “Me thinketh the lad protesteth overmuch.”

My heart stuttered, then beat faster. I wondered if he could hear it. “I’m not protesting. I’m taking a shower.”

His right hand reached out, coming to rest on my shoulder, briefly, before his fingers slid into my hair. The breeze coming through the open window cooled my heated face and brought the light scent of his aftershave to me. No musk for Austin, the fragrance was clean and icy crisp, like snow.

My knees started to shake as he leaned closer to me. His eyelids fluttered closed as his warm breath caressed my cheek. A drumbeat pounded in my ears, deafening me, as his mouth touched mine.

I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight.

EXCERPT:
There was a soft knock on the door. I didn’t need a rocket scientist to tell me who it was.

What did I want from him? An explanation? Or did I want to tell him to go have a nice life? I opened the door and took in his worried face. Austin stared at me, and his expression shifted to wariness.

“Steve, what’s wrong?”

Men lie to men all the time. Well, not me. I wasn’t sliding into that gutter. Ever.

“I saw you being very cozy with Colby Denton’s boyfriend.”

He flinched at the accusation, at my sharp voice, but his hand snaked out and grabbed my wrist.

“It’s not what you think. Let me come in…”

“Men lie to men--isn’t that what you said? Should I let you in so you can lie to me?”

“Babe, you should let me in so the neighbors on their terrace don’t get a good laugh, or call the front desk and complain.”

I hesitated a half-second too long, and Austin pushed past me into my suite. “Call Colby and tell him what you saw. Go ahead. Let him tell you didn’t see Theron and me sneaking around.”

Austin jumped as I slammed the door shut behind him. I rounded on him. “I fucking saw what I saw, Austin!”

“Yeah? You saw my brother give me a kiss. Is that really a big deal to you?”

The hot rage of his betrayal died in my belly, cooling as if it had never even existed. His brother? He’d mentioned a brother. My knees threatened to give out on me and I plopped down on a dinette chair. Austin took the seat next to mine and held out his hands, palms up.

“Steve, I’m sorry. I’d have gotten around to explaining how I know Theron and Colby tonight. I didn’t think…I mean I didn’t see any reason to tell you my total life story right away. There’s a lot we don’t know about each, and most of it won’t make any difference while we’re having vacation fun.”

I wanted to believe him, I really did. “So tell me about your brother now, and don’t leave anything out.”

That wary look he had teased at his features, a clear indication he had something to hide. If this Theron were his brother, there shouldn’t be any problem, but the trapped look on his face said more than words ever could. Anger licked at my guts again.

“Lie to me, Austin.”

He shook his head. “No. I won’t. Theron is my foster-brother. Let’s walk over to the main building and you can ask him to verify it. Just don’t cross-examine him because you don’t have the right, and his nerves can’t take it.” Austin reached out and took my hand. I yanked away.

Damn him. “Let’s just go our separate ways, Austin. I can’t trust you.”

Very slowly, he reached for my hand again, wrapping his fingers around mine. This time, something in the earnest way he looked at me, his posture, kept me from pulling back. He took a deep breath.

“I don’t remember my mother. She’s just a name on my birth certificate. I was put into the child welfare system early. So was Theron. We ended up with the same foster family, one that understood gay teens.”

“That’s the real short version, isn’t it?”

To his credit, he didn’t deny it, merely nodded. I had a choice to make. Accept his explanation, or ask him to leave. I knew I didn’t have the right to know every detail of his life story based on our short acquaintance, sex or no sex. The other side of the coin--I’d not told him anything about my life, either. I looked down at our hands. His grip tightened for an instant.

“Okay. So I’m an ass to jump to conclusions and have a little fit.”

Austin’s other hand gripped my knee. “No, you’re not. Theron and I are pretty close. The first time I came for a visit, I thought Colby’s head was going to explode when he caught us…You don’t wanna know yet.”

“The hell I don’t! You’d better spit it out now, Austin.”

“We, um, got a little drunked up. Colby came up to my suite and found us flopped on the bed together, giggling like fools, talking about old times.” Austin flashed me a sheepish look. “Babe, he was not pleased.”

A thought formed, growing stronger as a flush stained his cheeks. I closed my eyes, then opened them slowly. "Jeez, Austin, you and Theron were each other's first, weren't you?"

He didn't attempt to deny it. It wouldn't have worked on me if he had.

"Steve, it was a long time ago. We were two lonely teenagers with the same big secret-we were queers. Somehow the universe gave us to each other to take care of and made us brothers. He and Colby are all the family I have."

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “I get it, Austin. I really do. I’m sor…”

His fingers pressed to my lips. “Don’t say it. Not for this. You don’t know me, so you’re right to question me.”

“For what it’s worth, I just learned a lesson about jumping to conclusions. Never too old, right?”

He leaned forward and kissed me, a tender pressing of his lips to mine. I kissed him back, more relieved than I should be.

This was a vacation thing. I needed to keep it that way.

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Learn more about the awesome books by KC Kendricks on her website and blog. Follow KC on Twitter and check out her MySpace page. Be sure to join KC's mailing list for the lastest details on her new releases and appearances.

I'll be back Friday with a new release from Margaret West. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-04-15T06:21:00.000-07:00

SCORING LACEY

Jenna Howard is here today with her electrifying new release SCORING LACEY, the consummate cougar novel.

For those of you who aren't familiar with this awesome author, here's a little on how her career began.

In sixth grade Jenn had to keep a journal as a class project. One assignment was “What do I want to be when I grow up.” Young Jenna carefully printed out, with her tongue sticking out between her teeth (no doubt) that she “wanted to be a writer.” Those words would guide her towards writing teen angst stories in high school to erotic romance, a genre her mother is soooo comfortable with. She currently resides in Calgary, Alberta, Canada.

SCORING LACEY
Jenna Howard
ISBN 978-1-59578-820-7
Liquid Silver Books

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BLURB:
Lacey Magerin never expected her husband of twenty years to leave her for a twenty-two year old. She never expected her fifteen-year-old daughter to blame her for the divorce. Lacey also never expected Shayne Donnelly. The NHL goalie is her brother's best friend and is ten years younger than her. Neither of them know the rules in this new game but that's not stopping either of them from playing or finding love in the least likely place - on home ice.

EXCERPT:
The olive green shirt made his eyes greener as it hugged all the muscley goodness that was Shayne. He took a chip loaded with cheese and peppers. Planting his elbow on the table, he offered the bite to her. “I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t want you passing out on me again when my hand goes down your jeans. Eat.”

She dipped the chip into the small bowl of salsa and studied Shayne. “Think that’s where it’s going, hm?”

Instead of answering, he leaned back in his seat, his eyes smirking his answer that that’s exactly where his hand was going to be later. She wondered what had brought him here. “What brings you to the Box?”

He took another sip then found the right chip he wanted. A thin strand of cheese stretched to the plate before he broke it with a swipe of his finger. He scooped a large amount of salsa and guacamole onto the chip then ate the entire thing. He sipped his soda and set his foot on the edge of her seat by her hip. “You.”

“Followed or summoned?”

His eyebrow went up in answer. Summoned. “What did my baby brother say to have you don your superhero cape?”

“That you were a pitiful mess who was into her cups and cheese.” Shayne pressed his foot against her hip and she toyed with the small cuff of his jeans. “Are you a pitiful mess?”
“Yeah,” she sighed, feeling a little morose.

“Wanna go hit a few pucks?” He nodded his head at the door. “Come on.” He grabbed his glass as he stood up, waiting for her to move her self-pitying ass.

With a sigh, she took her glass and followed him out into the night. Two people sat on the bench against the wall as they smoked. A goalie net that had seen better days was against one wall. A couple of hockey sticks were in an umbrella stand along with a bucket of tennis balls. There was even a goalie glove that had seen better days. “Hey,” Shayne said, greeting the smokers, then set his drink down.

His foot tapped the bucket, spilling balls over the concrete pad. He tossed a hockey stick at her and she stepped back so it didn’t smack her in the face. The sound of the wood clattering filled the space and she went to set her glass beside Shayne’s. When she turned, he had the glove on and was smacking the sides of the goal in a head nod to the hockey gods. “Okay, Magerin, bring it.”

She picked up the stick, using the blade to draw a ball towards her. The odds of her scoring on Shayne were as high as Carmen giving her hug right now. Her shot was pathetic and the ball rolled sadly to him.

He stood up straight and his sigh was loud as he kicked the ball back at her. “Jesus, you’re a Magerin. Hit the damn ball--don’t nudge it.” Once again he crouched down, his body relaxed in the pose.

That was annoying. Lacey hunched down like him and looked him in the eye. “And the puck is dropped. It’s Magerin versus Payne. Magerin grabs the puck and it’s a break away.” Shayne snorted as he grinned. “She goes left dodging Payne. Right. Left. Now it’s two on the ice. Can she do it? Can she score on the great Donnelly?”

She grabbed the front of her shirt, flashed him her lacy bra then shot. “And she does it! Ladies and gentlemen, Magerin has scored on Donnelly. The crowd here is insane.” She lifted a hand to her mouth and imitated a crowd roaring as Shayne looked behind him at the green tennis ball resting against the netting then at her. Even the smokers were cheering. Though she assumed it was for her bra and not her hockey prowess.

“I can’t believe you...” he tossed aside his stick and began to stalk her. “You flashed me!”

She was laughing by the time he grabbed her by the waist and dragged her out of the small zone.

“Way to go, baby!” One of the smokers shouted.

She heard the other one. “Can they play again?”

Shayne pushed her against the side of the building, the bright lights spilling right past them at the patio. “I can’t believe you flashed me.” His hands settled on her hips as he crowded her against the wall. “Let’s see that bra again.”

His mouth was on hers before she could grab the bottom of her shirt. He tasted of all things sinfully delicious in the dark.

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Learn more about talented Jenna Howard on website and blog.

Have a great weekend. I'll be back Tuesday with a new teaser. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-04-13T06:36:00.000-07:00

WHAT'S NEW from SUMMERHOUSE PUBLISHING?

Two excellent paranormal romance books with sensual loves scenes and graphic language.

Ella Vines creates strong characters and a world you won't want to leave in her historical HER DARK FAIRY.

Multi-published Mina Carter lives up to her reputation for writing "hot erotic romances with heroes to die for and heroines that can kick your ass with words alone" in her contemporary THRILL OF THE NIGHT.

Read on for a short tease on these two fiery stories.

HER DARK FAIRY
Ella Vines

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BLURB:
In October of 1858, a walk through the Mississippi woods behind her home changes Lucia Marks’ life forever. When she twists her ankle and blacks out, a gorgeous winged creature comes to her rescue, an alluring being of legend that haunts her days and nights. But what does he want from her, and who is he? More importantly, will he be part of her future?

EXCERPT:
He moved closer and her heart thudded. “I have been alone so long that I don’t remember family or friends. I have disguised myself and moved amongst you all virtually unseen for years. I never had a reason to show myself until I saw you.”

Lucia lurched back a step. He stood too close. She smelled the mingling of cinnamon and honey on his skin she had come to associate with him. If she reached out her hand, she could touch him.

“I don’t think I can—” She stopped as he moved closer, putting a finger to her lips.

“Don’t speak. I only want to be near you, to be able to talk with you from time to time. I know you have your life to live, and I have mine. Whatever may be…” His finger parted her lips as he nudged it into her mouth, over her teeth.

Heat seared through her, and she moaned without thinking. No man had ever touched her this way before.

“Please, come with me to my cottage for just a while. The sun hasn’t yet set.” His pale eyes glimmered, and she felt her body respond to his request.

“I suppose so—just to talk. But I can only stay for a little while.” She talked to herself as much as to him, remembering the story Hettie had told her. Had Berrigan told her the truth about his origins, or had he been in the forest for longer than he claimed?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THRILL OF THE NIGHT
Mina Carter

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BLURB:
Part time diner waitress and hotel manager, Gwen’s days are filled with serving locals and making sure the sleepy back-road motel doesn’t have a crisis of epic proportions…like running out of clean towels. She’s a woman with a routine, a cleaning roster and that’s the way she likes it.

But Gwen is a woman with a past. A past which involves guns, knives and a whole lot of weird shit like vampires and werewolves. A past she gave up three years ago for the mediocrity of normal life.

She’s not sure she’s ready to go back to it but then a mysterious customer turns up in her diner. Hot and sexy as all hell, he sparks all kinds of erotic fantasies in Gwen’s sex-starved brain.

When she finds him bleeding from a were’s claws, can Gwen walk away? Or will she give into her carnal urges and risk being pulled back into her old life?

EXCERPT:
“Got a name, handsome?” I asked as I snapped gloves on. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t give a shit about AIDs, I’ll probably be dead long before anything like that puts me six feet under, but were infection? Not even going to risk it.

“Jasen.”

He sucked a breath in and glared at me as I irrigated the wound with swift, efficient movements.

“Oh, behave. Anyone would think a werewolf just tried to kill you.”

My voice was amused as I set about gluing the gashes in his skin and setting the butterflies in place. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve dressed wounds like this. Like I said, life on the road was hard. A hunter without scars was either new to the game, or…um, yeah, new to the game.

“Yeah. I’m freaking irresistible, aren’t I?”

He chuckled. It was a rich, low rumble that sent a ripple of awareness down my spine. I dropped my head a little, hiding behind the curtain of my hair. There was no way he was going to be interested, and after a were attack, probably wouldn’t welcome knowing how hot I thought he was. Life was a bitch, and then you died.

Fuck it. What did I have to lose? And, besides, I think we already established I’m not the sort of chick to take the sensible option.

“Honest answer?”

I didn’t look at him as I considered my handiwork. I’ve always been a neat hand with a needle, all that practice stitching up my mother as a kid. I was nine before I realized “needlepoint” mean stitching on fabric.

“I wouldn’t kick you outta bed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Be sure to check out Summerhouse Publishing for a great selection of well-written books at reasonable prices.

I'll be back Friday with a new release from Jenna Howard. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-04-12T04:48:00.000-07:00

FRENCH KISS
The Naughty Ladies of Nice
Book Four
ISBN 978-1-60168-317-5
Aspen Mountain Press

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BLURB:
Straight-laced children's author, Rachel Conklin, awakens on a deserted island wrapped in the arms of a sexy pirate. Convinced she's in a dream conjured from the pages of her breakout novel, Rachel casts her inhibitions to the wind. Guilt-free, she seduces the handsome sailor and rides the waves of passion.

Pediatrician Henri Bernier wasn't quite sure what to do with the sexy mermaid he'd pulled from the sea. Then she started kissing him and sent his libido soaring. Now the good doctor is ready to practice anything.

EXCERPT:
His mystery woman wiped mist from the cheval mirror. In the cleared glass, Henri caught her image. He stood in the bathroom doorway, frozen, staring at her through their shared reflection. She smiled at his shocked expression, probably enjoying the fact she had him at a disadvantage.

The bath towel dropped from her fingers, exposing her firm breasts. Her large, dark nipples drew him like a siren to the sea and his dick sprang to life. The desires to lave and suckle her flooded over him while his stiff cock demanded he bend her over and fuck her until he came.

Droplets glistened on the ringlets of her long hair, reflected by the late afternoon sun. Several beads gathered, then made a slow descent down her spine. He stood mesmerized by the rivulet, staring as it glided to the sleek curve of her hip, following it lower until it disappeared between her firm cheeks.

With her good hand, she pulled thick strands of wet hair off her back and draped it over a shoulder, exposing her delicate neck. She held his gaze and bent over at the waist, offering him a seductive view of her pink labia. In slow motion, she drew a pair of red panties up her legs, then did a little hip wiggle and tugged them into place.

The shiny panties caressed her rounded ass cheeks midway on her derrière, accenting the creamy bare skin and framing the lower portion. His hands itched to cup her, squeeze the firm muscles, but his arms were frozen at his sides.

The kissable white flesh rounded above legs that went on forever down to trim ankles and slender feet. He imagined those long limbs circling his waist, better yet, wrapped around his neck as he watched his cock slide in and out of her.

"Magnifique." The word slipped out hoarse as struggled for oxygen.

He walked closer, his movements dreamlike. The honey shampoo aroma filled his lungs when he finally reached her.

“You are beautiful.”

“Merci, Henri.” A smile twitched her lips.

“Your wrist should be in the sling.” He held up the black cloth with his other hand.

“I agree, but there’s time for that later.”

She leaned into him and reached back for his free hand, hanging limp at his side, then laid it across her bare ribcage. Her smooth skin felt warm against his damp palm.

“I intended to hang it on the handle, but the door popped—”

“Henri, isn’t there something else you’d rather do right now than talk?”

His sex-engrossed brain finally registered her words. “Mai oui.”

He laid a soft kiss on her shoulder, nipping his way along the side of her neck until he reached the tender area behind her ear lobe. Her nipples pebbled with his gentle touch, encouraging him to explore more of her.

His fingers played across her abdomen, sending prickles of anticipation up his arm as they climbed higher. He cupped her breast, massaging the firm mound until soft moans slipped past her parted lips. The entire time he watched her reflection in the mirror while his thumb made slow, teasing circles around her areola.

She wrapped her warm fingers over his other hand and guided it across her body. The combination of soft skin and firm muscle was the most erotic sensation of his life.

Dieu, how he wanted to dip into her hot pussy, His cock, with drops of pre-cum seeping through the slit, demaded relief.

With shaking fingers, she guided his other hand lower until she stopped at the elastic band on her wet panties. He grazed the fabric across her mound and stopped, then moved his hand to her thigh and edged toward her nub. She wrapped her fingers around his forearm, encouraging him to travel beneath the thin cloth. Anxious to please, he glided his fingers under the damp fabric and into her wet hairs, searching for her clit. After a moment of teasing, he slid first one finger, then a second into her hot, wet channel and watched her expression turn to ecstasy.

“Come for me, ma petit.”

Her trembling body tensed. She clutched the basin rim, squeezing her thighs tightly around his hand, grinding her hips against him. Shivers coursed through her. Her whimpers turned to a scream of pleasure as she sprayed hot cum onto him. A unique feeling of joy settled in his heart.

He turned her limp frame in his arms, his fingertips skimming across her tender nipples. She melted against him, pressing her breasts into his chest hairs...

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I'll be back tomorrow with Ella Vines. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-04-08T04:57:00.000-07:00

THE TEMPORAL MAN

To successfully write a time travel or fantasy takes a special mindset. Few authors are so gifted. Lucky for readers, Robert Appleton is a genius in the field. His latest book, THE TEMPORAL MAN, is an awesome example of Rob's amazing talent.

THE TEMPORAL MAN
Robert Appleton
ISBN: 978-1456595661
Moongypsy Press

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BLURB:
Have you ever wondered what it’s like outside of time? For disillusioned young waitress Rebecca Green, those words become startling reality when a mysterious stranger arrives to literally turn her world upside down.

Sam Morrow is on the run. He’s being pursued across time by four dangerous men from his past, including the deadliest swordsman in France. But now that he’s found the girl of his dreams, it might just be time to stand and fight. Rebecca has an idea—to recruit the best swordsman in eighteenth century England—but will aristocratic Percy Torrance dare miss his wedding on Monday for an unprecedented time travel journey?

Pulse-pounding duels, sea battles and a daring mountain rescue punctuate this tale of romance on the edge. From the distant past to the far-flung future, there’s no hiding from fate. Hold on tight to The Temporal Man.

EXCERPT:

(From Part 2: 1798)

There was a boyishness to his every gesture, a sandbox joie de vivre in the way he handled the sword. As Sam sparred with him, I knew instantly that this was not someone we ought to remove from the natural order of the world. He was much too promising. Life loved him as much as he loved life. Quality informed the tiniest twitch of his blade, and in a smile both perennial and genuine, I saw rarity. Grace. A man the nineteenth century would need. Though he was by far the best swordsman we’d found in England, I didn’t want to recruit twenty-two-year-old Percival Torrance. Not for a fight to the death.

“What do you think?” I whispered to Sam, after Percy won his seventh point in a row.

“He’s bloody marvellous. I’m no hack with a foil, but he’s got the jump on me every time.” Sam wiped his sweaty forehead with a tissue-thin, silk sleeve, enlarging the wet patch he’d already made. “This is hot work.”

“Sam, I don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”

“To him? He’s kicking my time travelling derriere. You should be more worried about me.”

“I mean if we brought him with us…and he got hurt. I’d never forgive myself. He’s too sweet.”

“I know. But what if we give it to him plainly, and let him decide for himself. This was your idea, remember? You said to find the best swordsman in England. Here he is.”

I nodded reluctantly. After all, Percy was my best hope for keeping Sam alive.

It was a humid afternoon, sometime in the month of August, seventeen ninety-eight, in the reign of His Majesty, King George the Third. We had learned of Percy’s swordsmanship by reputation, three of the five best fencing academies in London having sung his praises. The youngest son of a revered Admiral in His Majesty’s Navy, Percy was looking forward to his first posting upon being accepted to the rank of Lieutenant, something he was utterly confident of. “I know every knot and rivet,” he assured us, “and that’s just in the old man’s wooden leg. But seriously, anyone can be a seaman. It’s the thinking on your feet that trips so many up. Lucky for me, I’ve always been pretty agile in that regard, like the old man used to be.”

Stunning deep green covered the thirty-acre garden at the back of the Torrance estate. Cone-shaped, evergreen trees populated the grounds like giant arrowheads pointing to the sky. As Percy parried attack after attack with perfect alacrity, even nonchalance, I went dizzy. A realisation swarmed about me. I knelt to catch my breath. This had all existed over two centuries ago. The pollen, the gust, the evergreens, and young Percy Torrance. All had had their inkling on time’s unfurling scroll. His dreams, realised or failed, were already writ as historical fact. Nothing he could say or do would alter my past, the nineteenth century I knew. It was as if I held the answers to all his questions, the clasps over all his uncertainties, both naturally and unnaturally, for I sensed he would jump at the chance to do something extraordinary. And our being here, drinking his brandy, was nothing if not extraordinary.

After winning ten straight points in a row, he shook Sam’s hand and led us inside the house.

“Now then, Rebecca and Sam, might I ask what prompted your delightful visit? Your letter mentioned something about a singular proposition. I was intrigued. And if it does not involve money, I cannot even imagine what it could mean.”

His face was quite thin, with a small mouth and attractive, hazel eyes. His nose was aquiline, and his chin was finely cleft and very masculine. I couldn’t tell the colour of his hair, as he wore an expensive grey wig, but from his dark eyebrows and the few black hairs showing on his chest through his partially open shirt, I guessed at either black or mousy brown. He had a slim, almost wiry athleticism that gave him tremendous balance. I could picture him climbing up a ship’s rigging in record time, and then fighting a duel on the topgallant.

In other words, he would make an ideal ally in our fight against the Delgados and their Frenchman.

“First, I’d like to say that you’re the best swordsman I’ve ever come across,” Sam answered. He took a sip of brandy and then glanced around the exquisite living room for a few moments, his stare finally resting on the portrait of a lady on the wall above a mahogany sideboard. “Lovely.”
“My Aunt Sylvia. She taught me the piano…before she passed away.”

“Sorry.”

“You remind me of her, Rebecca,” added the youngster. “You possess a similar incongruity.”

“Oh?” I didn’t like the word when pointed at me. It sounded so…trigonometric.

He grinned. “That was a compliment, madam. I meant to refer to the time we live in.” Someone walked over my grave. He blithely went on, “The eighteen nineties have been so prosaic, don’t you think? One has to go out and find excitement. But you, madam, light up even this stuffy mausoleum. Aunt Sylvia was the same.”

I blushed. Either he didn’t have a clue how charming he was—quite probable, in this era of etiquette—or he just didn’t care that I was in love with Sam. We had announced ourselves as a couple in the letter, but either way, he wielded compliments as skilfully as he did his blade.

“Percy, we’ve come to ask you something…equally incongruous.” Sam cleared his throat.

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To learn more about Robert Appleton and his intriguing books, visit his website, or swing by his blog. He’s also on Facebook and Twitter.

Have a spectacular weekend. I'll be back Tuesday with a new teaser. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-04-06T05:55:00.000-07:00

INSIDE THE MIND OF RICK R. REED

Rick R. Reed is a talented author secure in his genre. When asked what inspired him to write TALES FROM THE SEXUAL UNDERGROUND, Rick was happy to share.

"I wanted to write about people who were not just out, but out there, people who lived their sexual lives in ways most of us could only imagine...and for whom the flavor vanilla had absolutely no appeal. I interviewed porn stars, prostitutes, self-proclaimed sex pigs, and delved into bizarre sexual practices. It was eye-opening, arousing, and a lot of fun (but never, never good clean fun). I also include here my favorite dirty stories. They all explore a side of life that exists not in the twilight zone, but in my favorite destination...the sexual underground."

TALES FROM THE SEXUAL UNDERGROUND
Rick R. Reed
ISBN 13: 978-1-60820-140-2 Paperback
ISBN 13: 978-1-60820-141-9 Electronic
MLR Press

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EXCERPT
He knows me, so he knows the best time is a quiet one. We stay in. Dinner, drinks, and of course, the last part, the best part.

He starts off casually, wearing a pair of faded Levis, a white T-shirt worn soft, bare feet, hair still damp from the shower. There's a CD playing, low, maybe Oscar Peterson conjuring up Gershwin from his piano. He's got a few candles lit, but nothing scented. The air in his apartment is clean, with a trace of the soap from his shower lingering.

We sit on the couch and he makes me a drink. He already knows what I like, a dirty martini made with vodka, heavy on the dirt. We laugh about how I like things dirty, but not too much. We keep our minds out of the gutter, at least for now.

After the drinks, the music, the light fading to purple outside, we move to the dining room. Old oak pedestal table, mismatched chairs and cream pillar candles...used before. He makes a light meal, because he knows that later, we won't want anything too heavy weighing on us. A simple salad, arugula, red onion, plum tomatoes, drizzled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. There's a chicken breast, poached in broth, lemon juice and walnuts, some rice. Strawberries with sour cream and brown sugar for dessert. A glass or two of white wine, an Alsatian Riesling.

We linger over the dinner, slow; the candles burn down. The sky outside fades from purple to navy blue, a glow to the south...city lights. We move to the bedroom, undress slowly.

He knows how to touch me. Knows where to make the pressure slippery and where to make it rough. Knows when to move slowly, when to increase the tempo, and when to slow it down again...he doesn't want things to end too quickly. He knows that my nipples are sensitive, and toys with them just hard enough so I will feel the ghost of his caress in the morning. All the while, music, orchestrated to ebb and flow, a soundtrack to our passion. We start off with Bach, Mendelssohn, end up with Crystal Method and Prodigy. Romance to filth. And he tells me, the whole time, about past lovers, knowing it excites me as much as his touch. Like the music, he starts off slow and romantic, telling me about his first love, Ron, how they were playful, in love, existing only for each other...so young. He tells me about a particular New Year's Eve, in a darkened bedroom in Florida, high on pot and champagne, bringing each other the most incredible gifts. But as our passion rises, so does the depravity. He moves on to orgies, nights with strangers fueled by Ecstasy, a frantic, furtive coupling with a Northwestern student in an alley by the el tracks one night in August, fucking each other sweatily while the train crackled and roared above, its human cargo oblivious. He tells me about backroom sex, the smell of poppers, leather, cum and spit in the air, groping, being groped, connecting with shadows. He tells me everything, moving faster and faster, until even his tales and touch blur, and I offer up my seed; it covers my belly in viscous arcs.

And I roll over and look at him...in the mirror. He is me.

He is me.

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Learn more about Rick R. Reed and his award winning books on his website and blog. You can also follow Rick on Twitter and Facebook.

I'll be back Friday with a new release from awesome author Robert Appleton. Until then...

Happy reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-04-05T06:18:00.000-07:00

TIME FOR A NAUGHTY TWIST

FRENCH TWIST
The Naughty Ladies of Nice
Book Three
ISBN 978-1-60168-293-2
Aspen Mountain Press

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BLURB:
Interpol agent Claudette D’Laquois is on the run. Dull Uncle Paul and his rundown chateau in Nice, France are her only safe haven…but she never planned on the delectable estate manager who is even more dangerous than the Russian mob boss who wants her dead.

Three weeks of overseeing operations at his friend’s orchard seems like the ideal vacation to CPA Don Hobbs. And so it was—until a French sex goddess pulls him into a world of drugs, intrigue, and erotic fantasy.

EXCERPT:
The throbbing burst into her head again. She rubbed her temples. “S’il vous plait, do not make this more difficult.”

“Hey, I get it. You’re this tough woman who can handle herself in any kind of danger. But, you need to look at it from my point of view.” He stepped behind her and massaged her shoulders, edging up to her neck.

Instant relief.

She sighed with each knead that worked free the stress knots.

“Let’s just say this Cesar doesn’t come alone. You ever figure he’s not a good guy?” Sarcasm streamed with each word.

“I know him.” She shrugged off his hands and turned, her fists balled tight. “You do not.”

“I’m not stupid and I do know a bunch of bullshit when I hear it.” His words bounced off the walls. “You think this fucker is your long-lost savior. Not hardly likely, chickee, if he bailed on a high profile government job and left you to the wolves.” He squinted at her, a vein pulsed along his forehead. “Was your commander right? Did you and James Fuckingbond have a couple of rolls in the sack and now you think he’s gonna be the righteous man of the hour? Is that all it takes with you? A fast fuck and a couple of swats on the ass to make you bend over and suck mud?”

“You dare to speak to me this way?” Red flashed before her eyes. “One afternoon of sex and you think you own me? Know what my life is like? How it should be orchestrated? You assume the right to be my master?” Meeting him decibel for decibel, she yelled, “You are an idiot!”

She swung out her hand, ready to slap his face. Hard.

With an expression cold and fierce, he leaned into her.

“Don’t do it. Don’t do one fucking thing you don’t want done back to you.” He stood his ground, fists planted on his hips. “I’m a nice guy. A fucking gentleman until someone, and I don’t care if she is a broad, muscles me. You got that? Loud and clear? Has it sunk you’re your brain? I will not—”

Wap.

A low growl came from deep in his chest. In slow motion, he rubbed his cheek along her red imprint, eyes narrowed to slits. “That’s it, baby, party’s over.”

He grabbed her wrist and spun her around, flopped onto the bed, and yanked her over his knee.

Rip.

Her cotton skirt shredded like tissue as he yanked it up over her ass, exposing her boy shorts.

“I told you before you needed a good spanking and the time’s come.” The satin panties were ripped away.

Whack.

His hand cracked down on her firm rear. The sting raced across her flesh, charging heat to her clit.

“Ow!” She struggled to get free, flailing her legs and arms, but his free hand pressed across her back, holding her in place. “You will pay for this, you le fils d'une chienne.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will, but not as much as you. And I’m not a son of a bitch. My mother is a nice woman.”

Whack.

“Nice girls don’t talk like that either.”

Whack. Whack.

“Donald, stop before it is—”

Whack.

“Too late? Too bad. Already is and I don’t give a shit.”

Whack. Whack.

His rigid penis pressed into her abdomen and dampness pooled in her panties. Pressure built between her thighs, increasing with each smack. She arched into him, loving it. Wanting this from the day they met.

Dieu, at this moment, he was her master. She wanted to be his equal, but not right now. Now, she wanted him to take control, had to know his brute force, needed him.

His hand slowed, then rested on her tingling flesh. He traced her butt cheek, edging closer to her perineum. She opened her thighs, praying he would slip between them.

He glided a finger along the crease, then dipped lower and stroked her swollen nether lips. Up and down, down and up, and she loved every stroke.

Cream seeped from her and her body begged for release. She no longer held back the moans.

“Had enough?” His words came out thick.

“Not of you.” She twisted around until she sat on his lap.

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I'll be back tomorrow with the award winning Rick R. Reed. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell

2011-03-25T04:45:00.000-07:00

CHANCE ENCOUNTER

CHANCE ENCOUNTER is a plot driven new release from creative author Christiane France and a book well worth reading.

CHANCE ENCOUNTER
Christiane France
ISBN 978-1-61124-061-0
Amber Allure

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BLURB:
In high school and through their first year of college, Jase Thoman and Matt Lester were best friends and lovers. But then Matt’s family moved across country, Matt transferred to another school, and the pair eventually drifted apart.

Now, ten years later, they meet again by chance. Jase is a private investigator, desperate to find his kid brother, Donny, who, in addition to two other teenage boys, has mysteriously disappeared after last being seen at a local gay bar. Matt is an undercover police officer brought in on the case by the local police department in the hope he can succeed where they have so far failed.

Matt is the only man Jase has ever really loved, but ten years is a long time. They’re not the same people they once were, and when Matt tries to pick up where they left off, Jase takes a step back. His first priority is finding his brother. As far as Matt is concerned, Jase feels how he imagines a deer would feel when caught in the headlights of a vehicle with little or no chance of escape—confused, unsure, and at the same time, positive whatever he does will be the wrong thing.

Can Matt help Jase solve the mystery of his brother’s whereabouts, while also convincing him to give their relationship a fresh start?

EXCERPT:
The man hesitated, frowning, but then his smile suddenly broadened, giving Jase the distinct impression the guy thought he knew him. “By all that’s holy… Jeez, I don’t believe it. This is really wicked, man.”
There was no recognition on Jase’s end. But then he constantly met all kinds of different people in the course of his job. Could be they’d crossed paths at some point, and he just didn’t remember. “What don’t you believe?”

“That it’s really you. I guess, after all this time, you’ve forgotten I’m basically a beer drinker, but right now, I’d rather have a nice cold glass of OJ.”

Forgotten? After all what time? As in I’m supposed to know you from somewhere?

Jase narrowed his eyes and looked the dude over more carefully. The lighting in the club was lousy, but somewhere between the glitter, the cheap glamour and false eyelashes, one of which was rapidly becoming unglued, there was something vaguely familiar about the guy. He searched his memory and came up dry. “Sorry, man, I think you must be mistaking me for someone else.”

The man gave a soft, sexy chuckle, raising hairs on places Jase had always thought were hairless. He flipped through his memory banks for a second time. He still didn’t recognize the face, but he knew he’d heard that chuckle somewhere before. Where or when, he couldn’t remember…but something about it reminded him of his college days and March break—cheap motel rooms, heavy breathing, sweat-soaked sheets, and the overpowering smells of stale beer and sex.

“S’okay, Jase. It’s been one helluva long time,” the guy said quietly. “And I know I have you at a disadvantage in this getup. But you were looking me over pretty good, so I figured I should say something fast in case you recognized me and blew my cover.”

“Sorry, man. Like I said, I think you’re—” Before Jase could finish what he was about to say, he realized the guy had used his name. Then, something clicked in his brain and the memories came flooding back…along with a rush of pure sexual need he hadn’t felt in a very long time. “You’re— Oh, my God, it’s— But it can’t be. You’re—”

Matt Lester in the flesh?

Jase stared at the guy standing beside him in shock. He and Matt Lester had been lovers, best friends, and roommates through the last couple of years of high school and the first year of college. Then Matt’s family had moved to the west coast, and a scholarship had caused Matt to transfer to another school. They’d kept in touch for a while and still exchanged cards at Christmas, but between distance and everyday life, they hadn’t seen one another in years. Jase wanted to ask if Matt was back living here in town, or if he was just passing through. However, before Jase could say his name out loud, Matt had him in the kind of lip-lock Jase couldn’t have broken even on a good day.

He let his body go limp and waited for the one guy he’d never thought to see again do the same. At least the idiot wasn’t using force. No tongue, just a firm hold and the pressure of his mouth to keep Jase quiet. Jase felt the rasp of five o’clock shadow against his own freshly shaved skin. He was also conscious of the faint smell of stale, sweaty clothes, and he wondered if living on the street was also part of Matt’s cover. With anyone else, it would have been a total turn-off, but with Matt it was working on Jase like the most expensive aphrodisiac. He was up, he was hard, and he knew with just a little mouth-action on Matt’s part, they’d once again be flying to the moon.

If he’d thought about it—and he had, quite a few times if he told the truth—Jase wouldn’t have expected to still feel this way, not after so long. But it seemed that was the amazing thing about memories. Sometimes they came flying back as fresh as the day they got started, and this one was what—close to nine, maybe even ten years old?...

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Learn more about Christiane France on her website.

Have a great weekend. I'll be back Tuesday with a new teaser. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-03-23T05:50:00.000-07:00

DORIEN GREY - A MAN OF MANY TALENTS

Along with being a excellent author, my dear friend Dorien Grey is a talented photographer. He's in Europe, enjoying the sights and posting his wonderful photographs on Facebook. Be sure to take a look. But before you go, please read an excerpt from one of Dorien's books.

AARON'S WAIT
an Elliott Smith Mystery
Dorien Grey
ISBN 978-1-934841-40-2 Print
ISBN 978-1-934841-41-9 Ebook
Zumaya Publications

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BLURB:
Aaron Stiles is dead. He's been dead for four years but doesn't seem to know it. He's waiting for his partner Bill to come home, and until that happens, he's not going anywhere. The trouble is, Bill Somers won-t be coming home--ever--because he's dead, too. The official verdict was suicide, but...

The last thing Elliot Smith needs in his latest renovation project is a ghost, especially one who won't let him sell the place until he solves the mystery of who killed Bill. He has John to help with the spectral side of things, but that just leaves him with the quandary of how to get information on the case. After all, he can hardly explain he's investigating on behalf of one dead man with the assistance of another.

EXCERPT:
While he made it a policy to have as little contact as possible with a building's tenants during the escrow period, Elliott felt compelled to talk with Mrs. Reinerio regarding her options. He didn't have her phone number, so he called the Wolinskis to ask for it, and to let them know of his intentions so they'd not think it strange for him to show up. As he expected, they had no objections.

Mrs. Wolinski reported they had found a small condo in a new retirement complex and would be moving within a month of the closing of escrow. He then called Mrs. Reinerio, who said she would be happy to talk with him, and would be home all day.

He drove over after lunch, noting that the weather was definitely cooler. Escrow was to close on a Tuesday; but badly as he wanted to get to work immediately, he knew that last-minute glitches often pushed the close back a day or so. To be on the safe side, he'd made arrangements for the sandblasters to come on the Monday following the official close date. He was fairly sure they could easily complete the work before the weather got too bad, but this was Chicago, and he didn't want to take any chances.

He was curious, too, about street parking around the new property during the day, and was relieved to see it wasn't too difficult to find a space. He took his time walking up to the building, pausing again to look at its neighbors. He was pleased to confirm his earlier observation that the entire block appeared to be relatively well maintained.

Climbing the steps to the front door, he rang Mrs. Reinerio's buzzer. She had opened her door by the time he entered the hall.

"Come in, Mr. Smith," she said, warmly.

"Elliott, please." He followed her inside, waiting as she closed the door behind him.

"Please, sit," she said. "May I get you some coffee?"

"If you have some made," he replied, taking the indicated chair.

"Of course. I'll only be a moment."

While she was gone, Elliott looked around. He'd seen the apartment during the inspection tour, but now had a chance to concentrate on some of the individual elements in the room. It was, he decided, definitely a grandmother's apartment--comfortable, neat, clean, and heavy with an indefinable air of the past.

Mrs. Reinerio returned a few minutes later with a tray on which were two coffee mugs.

"I don't hold much on ceremony," she said, a creamer, sugar bowl, and a small plate with several pieces of coffee cake. She put it on the coffee table in front of him.

Waiting until she had taken a seat across from him, Elliott got right to the point of his visit. He outlined what he perceived to be her options, emphasizing that he was renovating the building for resale, and that a rent increase under the new owners was almost inevitable.

She sighed. "I was afraid of that," she said, looking into her coffee, then hastily added, "I know it's not your fault, and that nothing is forever, but I've lived here for twenty-five years now, and..."

"I understand," Elliott said, and he felt he truly did. He then went on to tell her about one of his own rental properties that had a vacancy at a comparable rent, and that he would be pleased to have her as a tenant. He assured her he would be happy to assist if she needed help with the move itself.

"That's very kind of you, Elliott," she said. "Can I have a little time to think it over?"

"Certainly. I just wanted--"

There was a knock at the door, which Mrs. Reinerio apparently did not hear, since she showed no reaction to it.

"I think there's someone at the door," he said after a moment.

She looked at him and smiled. "Oh, it's nothing," she said. "It's just Aaron. I recognize the knock."

A shiver ran from the top of his head to his toes.

"Aaron?" John had already told him, of course, but confirmation from someone with a pulse still startled him.

Her smile never faded, and there was no change in the casual tone of her voice as she said, "Aaron Stiles. He lives ... lived ... upstairs. He died four years ago, poor dear."

"So you're saying..." Elliott finally managed to say.

She put her cup down and looked at him. "Yes," she said pleasantly, "I'm afraid you've bought yourself a slightly haunted house."

Elliott took a long sip of his coffee before saying, as conversationally as possible, "Well, that is interesting. Tell me a little about Aaron."

She sat back, laying her arms casually on the arms of her chair. "It's an incredibly sad story, I'm afraid. He was such a sweet young man. He moved in about six years ago. He was very quiet and rather lonely, I suspect. But he was always pleasant and helpful whenever anyone needed anything, and everyone loved him.

"Aaron never talked much about his past, but from what I was able to gather, he must have had a very sad life. He mentioned once that his parents died when he was quite young and left him with the responsibility of raising a younger brother, about whom he never spoke.

"Then, about a year before he died, he found a ... friend ... who subsequently moved in with him. I'd never seen Aaron happier! They seemed truly devoted to one another. I think they were even planning to buy a house together. And then, one day, his friend just disappeared and never came back. Poor Aaron was devastated. Two weeks later, he died. I gather he had a congenital heart condition that had plagued him all his life. But if you ask me, I think he died, quite literally, of a broken heart."

Elliott shook his head slowly but said nothing. He felt there was nothing he could say.

"But why the knocking?" he asked finally.

She sighed again, softly. "The day after Bill--that was the friend's name, Bill Somers--disappeared, Aaron went around to all the apartments to ask if any of us might have heard from him. None of us had, of course. But every few days he would come around again. I think he is still looking."

Just as Elliott opened his mouth to ask another question, Mrs. Reinerio's phone rang, and she rose to answer it.

"Ellen, dear! It's so good to hear from you!" She paused to look at Elliott, covering the mouthpiece with one hand. "It's my daughter from Los Angeles," she said. "We've not talked in some time."

Taking the hint, he got out of his chair. "I won't keep you, then," he said, outwardly casual but inwardly cursing the interruption. "Perhaps we can talk more later."

"I'd like that, Elliott. Thank you for stopping by." Removing her hand from the mouthpiece, she resumed her conversation with her daughter as he let himself out.

He was frustrated by the sense he had merely scratched the surface of Aaron's story, and wanted to know more. What about this Bill--the one Aaron was still waiting for? What happened between them? Why had Bill left?

He had the sudden urge to track him down and ask him for the full story, but he dismissed the idea for several reasons, telling himself he was not a detective, that he wouldn't know where to start looking, and that the whole thing was really none of his business. He rethought that last objection, however, and decided that having purchased a "haunted" building made it very much his business.

He did, however, fully understand now what John had said about Aaron's sadness, and he empathized.

He considered hanging around and returning to talk to Mrs. Reinerio but realized that was hardly practical and would undoubtedly cause her to question his reasons for the intense interest in a dead man.

As he left the building and returned to his car, he couldn't resist the urge to turn around and seek out the top-floor apartment window in which Steve had painted the figure Elliott had no doubt whatsoever was Aaron. He didn't expect to see anyone, and he didn't. It was just a window of an empty apartment.

There was no possible way Steve could have known about Aaron, yet somehow, on some level, he obviously did. John had said Steve was "perceptive," and Elliott recalled at least two occasions while he was trying to find John's identity that he and Steve had identical dreams, and at the same time. He hadn't known what to make of it then, and he still didn't.

He had never told Steve--or anyone else--about John, and didn't know how or whether to bring up the subject of Aaron. It wasn't for fear Steve would think he was insane--Steve had clearly stated his own belief in ghosts. Part of it was that Elliott still wasn't completely sure he believed in ghosts--and most definitely not as most people thought of them. The vast majority of ghosts he had ever heard of seemed to be some sort of time/space anomaly, like a spectral movie clip, endlessly doing the same thing over and over and totally unaware of the living. Clearly, that wasn't John. Ghosts, to his knowledge, did not interact with the living, let alone talk to them. On the other hand, John had never appeared to him, and their conversations were limited to when Elliott was asleep.

And now there was Aaron, of whom Elliott had no direct personal awareness other than the knocking, which still could have some natural explanation. The only evidence he had that there even was still an Aaron was through John.

And Steve's painting.

And Mrs. Reinerio's interesting but unproven theory.

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Learn more about the amazing Dorien Grey on his website and his blog Dorien Grey and Me. Be sure to click on Photo Life for a unique glimpse into this superb author's life.

I'll be back Friday with a new release from Christiane France. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-03-22T05:55:00.000-07:00

OOH LA LA

Those fun loving chicks are back and hotter than ever!

FRENCH TART
The Naughty Ladies of Nice
Book One
ISBN 978-1-60168-281-9
Aspen Mountain Press

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BLURB:
Determined to prove herself and shed her party girl image, Donatienne Dubois pins her hopes on the exclusive cooking school in Nice, France. One by one her expectations are shattered by a foul-mouthed parrot, a bogus Michelin chef, and a headmistress with a heart of tungsten steel. Her lifesaver is a bad boy hunk too hot not to handle.

Sebastien Reinard is incognito, hating every minute. To pose as a student while protecting a rich wild child is his version of hell, until he partners with the slice of Crème Brule good enough to eat.

Class takes on a whole new meaning as Doni and Sebastien heat up the kitchen when they discover honey has better uses than sweetening tea.

EXCERPT:

“Ooh la la, Mademoiselle, voulez-vous à la baise?”

Donatienne’s running shoes squeaked to a halt on the cracked, gray linoleum. Fuck him? She didn’t fuck just anyone, especially if she didn’t know his name.

“Not unless you have more money than I could ever dream of, you pig.” She refused to turn back toward the crackly voice.

“What? Is your pussy made from gold?”

She gritted her teeth. Insolent bastard.

“Yes, it is. And equipped with a set of rusty fangs to rip off anything that tries to get inside.” Smartass answers weren’t her best first impression at the haute cuisine cooking school she’d waited so long to attend. She had to shake the lowlife who thought he could get away with insults before Chef tossed her out.

Ignore him. Just keep moving. Doni straightened her shoulders and walked past the double door refrigerator.

“Perhaps you prefer to give Pierre a blow job. He would make it worth your time.” A cackle filled the air. “Come on, baby. You know you want me, you slut.”

The fine hairs at the nape of her neck jumped to attention. Doni whirled around, swinging out her arm. She launched her heavy tote at the dumpy man in the splattered apron planted in front of the stainless steel stove.

Ooof.

A satisfying sound to Doni’s ears as her bag connected with his diaphragm and he buckled.

She sprinted a dozen steps toward him, punching air until her fists mashed into his doughy flesh. He shot out his hands. She dodged to the right, away from his reach. Her feet slipped on the waxed floor. Flailing her arms, she grabbed for anything handy. Crash. A white cloud billowed up, blinding her. They fell to the floor with Doni on top, tangled in a mass of apron and legs.

“Protect your balls. Protect your balls. The slut is crazy.”

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I'll be back tomorrow with author Dorien Grey and another of his fantastic novels. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-03-21T06:13:00.000-07:00

EPIC WINNERS ANNOUNCED

How's this for a wondrous emblem to post on an author's website?

That's just what my writing partner, the brilliant and versatile Robert Appleton, is now able to do. His based on true events book, Sunset on Ramree, is the first place winner in the Historical Fiction category for the 2011 EPPIE Awards. Congratulations, Rob!!

SUNSET ON RAMREE
Robert Appleton
ISBN: 9781926704180 eBook
ISBN: 9781926704272 Print
Eternal Press

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BLURB:
It is the deadliest crocodile attack ever recorded. On February 19th, 1945, one thousand Japanese soldiers retreated into the fetid mangrove swamps of Ramree Island hoping to escape their British enemy. However they soon discovered that the sixteen kilometre stretch of marshland that promised to offer safe cover, had delivered them straight into the jaws of hell.

Inspired by true events during WWII, Sunset on Ramree follows young musician-turned-soldier Shigeatsu Nakadai and his best friend, Kodi, as they head ever deeper into danger.

EXCERPT:
Lance-Corporal Hokuto Mayazuki has always been one of the luckiest soldiers in the Japanese Imperial Army. The scars of no less than six shrapnel cuts and bullet wounds tattoo the left side of his neck, all the way from ear to shoulder. So many miraculous escapes over a three-year tour of duty in the Pacific. Yet he will be among the first to die this evening--according to the medical officer--though not from any wound.

Today is February 19th, 1945, and he is succumbing to a strange, horrid fever. If one so tough can fall easily, I tell myself, what chance have any of us, retreating into these deadly marshlands of Ramree Island?

It is 16:45 and the British forces have outflanked us. Word spreads throughout our battalion that there is no escape. The mangrove swamp--a thick, stifling, fetid place of only damp reprieve--suddenly provides our only protection. And it is here, in the coming hours, that from the jaws of our defeat, Nature will try to snatch us for Herself. There are a hundred unseen ways for a man to die. We can never give in and time must therefore be the grind of the blade, that by our own hand we draw death--an honourable death. What end waits for me, I wonder? My name is Shigeatsu Nakadai. I do not want this sunset to be my last.

The water I pour onto my neck to drown a dozen large ants is drinking water. I curse the decision. From here on, saltwater is all we'll find. When my canteen runs dry, I'll start to die of thirst. The thought occurs to me to pilfer some of Mayazuki's--he's almost dead anyway--but the reasoning proves double-edged. What if he contracted his disease from that water? Is it worth the risk? Thirst or fever: in prolonging life by one means, might I not simply protract death by another? I decide to leave him his flask and take his can opener instead.

We've been rushing for hours. Our battery stronghold is now miles to our rear. Colonel Ojihoru is a determined man, but determined to do what? If we are not permitted to surrender, and there is no way through the British lines, what is his hurry? Suicide now or suicide later, it seems academic. Stoicism is my only refuge. It's as much a performance as those I give each night in my dreams--in the orchestra of Chadwick Hall in Canberra, where I play the clarinet--except this performance is to myself. Of all the ways to leave this swamp, suicide is the most impossible, at least to me. I'm quite sure that when the time comes to die with honour, I'll cry in front of the whole regiment. Will I be the only one?

Colonel Ojihoru never hesitates. Though he's knee-deep in swamp water, his feet remain on firm ground. That is his constitution. Lieutenants Katsumoto and Tanaka both salute as he points them, respectively, to the northeast and southeast corners of our retreat. As far as I can tell, we're trekking east. I catch up to Katsumoto as he clambers over a fallen tree in the water. He is my friend. Ever since he learned of my civilian profession, he's expressed a desire to hear me play the clarinet. I have surmised he is a well-educated, cultured man, both by his eloquence and his even-handed approach to leadership. Unlike Ojihoru, Katsumoto is liked as well as respected by the men.

"Sir, is it true we're surrounded on all sides?" I ask.

"Hmm ... would you like the long version, Nakadai, or the short?"

"The easiest to swallow, sir."

"Very well," he replies matter-of-factly. "There are British troops to our rear, and we think a British-Indian contingent may have landed to the east. Reaching General Ushui now seems unlikely. All we have right now is this swamp, and no intention of surrendering. Keep your wits about you, Nakadai; this place can kill a man on a whim when he isn't in the middle of a war. My advice is to pick someone you trust, stay close, and watch out for one another. Oh, and steer clear of the deeper water."

"I will, sir. Thank you."

With that, he pats me on the shoulder and wades out into the swamp. I think about reminding him of his own advice--to stay away from deep water--but he has no alternative. There is no way round. A dozen or so mosquitoes emerge from a nearby bush. They plague Katsumoto until he disappears from view. I see endless greens and browns suffocating our route, and no sign of life save one or two of our number creeping nervously through the water. Their eyes hardly look up. What's lurking beneath the surface? I hurry back to dry land, back to my friends on whom I count to keep me safe.

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Learn more about Robert Appleton and his intriguing books on his website or swing by his blog. Rob’s also on Facebook and Twitter.

I'll be back tomorrow with a new Tuesday Teaser. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-03-11T06:37:00.000-08:00

TURKISH DELIGHT

Melissa Bradley, an exceptional author in any genre she writes, has a new dynamite book her many fans will love. Byzantine Provocateur is a contemporary heat level 3 story that has it all. From light BDSM and exhibitionism in public places to marvelous, yet brief, descriptions of Turkey, we travel through a modern day love story of money and power. It's a satisfaction guaranteed read and sure to capture many news devotees to the delightful talents of Ms. Bradley.

BYZANTINE PROVOCATEUR
Melissa Bradley
ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-072-6
Amber Quill Press - Amber Heat

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BLURB:
An ancient city sparks forbidden desire…

Thalia Burton arrives in Istanbul to relax and enjoy the company of her old friend. Hoping to forget the boring rut her life had become, she never imagines one encounter with Fadi's brother re-igniting the dim flame of passion inside her. Captivated by the heat in his golden eyes, Thalia finds herself tempted beyond reason...

Murat Bahar had only intended to meet Thalia as a courtesy to his family. One look at the lovely American incinerates his intentions. She is an exquisite morsel he longs to taste, a taboo treat enthralling him like a siren of myth. Perhaps just one night…

Once is not enough. Thalia and Murat embark on a fiery, secret affair that could burn them both, costing them friends and family.

EXCERPT:
Murat slid a finger along her jaw, her neck, tracing a tingly path to her décolleté. He stared at the pendant nestled in the hollow of her throat, like he was trying to figure out exactly what to say.

She held her breath, the butterfly touch sending tiny thrills rushing along her nerves. This was crazy. If she were smart she’d turn around right now and find her way back up to the ballroom.

“Once was not enough, tatlim,” he said hoarsely.

“What?” Thalia wheezed, unable to get a deep breath.

His hands slid down, grasping her arms and drawing them around his neck, pulling her into the shelter of his body. The spice of him surrounded her, blending perfectly with the scents of garden and sea, a hypnotic perfume that drugged her senses.

“I think you understood,” he whispered, his palms gliding up to caress her back. His heat through the delicate silk radiated along her skin.

She glanced up, eyes widening at the intense emotions she found reflected in his glittery gaze.

"I have hungered for you these last days and nights.”

Desire rolled through her like a gathering thunderstorm.

Dear, Jesus, please, please don’t let me wake up.

She wanted to kiss him, to wrap herself around him like a vine and never let go, but… Her darned conscience nosed its way into her fun.

“You said all those things,” she managed in a surprisingly steady voice. “How can you just turn all that off? And what about Fadi, your parents?”

His arms tightened as he nuzzled his lips into her throat. He whispered to her in Turkish, as though he were too overcome to form the right words in English. The exotic syllables fell hotly against her sensitized skin and her breath caught at the tiny electric thrills.

He drew back, the moonlight rendering his golden eyes silver. The torment there matched her own.

“This is a quandary, I know, but you are a rare breath of sweet fresh air, Thalia. My world has become too narrow, too constricted. Always doing what others expect. I need to be with you, if only for a little while.”

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Keep up with Melissa Bradley on Myspace and follow her exciting blog Melissa's Imaginarium.

Have a great weekend. I'll be back Tuesday with a new teaser. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-03-09T05:01:00.000-08:00

ROWDY GHOSTS and HOT ROMANCE

ARIADNES THREAD is another terrific Marie Treanor novel filled with twists, plot, and thigh-clenching fire. Be sure to pick up a copy to keep you warm on these chilly spring evenings.

ARIADNES THREAD
Marie Treanor
ISBN 978-1-60504-219-0
Samhain Publishing

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BLURB:
It's New Year, the house is haunted and the owner's sexier than sin. Burglary isn't meant to be like this!

Glaswegian single mother Ariadne McSween is not having a happy New Year.Instead of celebrating with family and friends in time-honoured tradition, she's helping her scallywag brother and his even less savoury friends burgle a mansion in the Scottish Highlands. And nothing is going right.

First there's the bad weather and car breakdowns. Then, instead of a quick, quiet robbery under cover of a noisy party, Addie finds herself flirting outrageously with the house's owner, sexy concert pianist and accused murderer, John Maxwell. Worse, her violent and erratic accomplice, Shug, takes their hosts hostage.

Another complication: The house turns out to be haunted, and not just by the ghost of eminent composer Christopher Maxwell. Two randy spirits drawn to the lust of living want to join the party—along with the vengeful shade of John's murdered wife.

Soon Addie becomes entangled in a host of mysteries, like why are Ariadne and her cohorts being paid to rob a house that holds nothing more valuable than dusty musical manuscripts? And most of all, how does she avoid falling in love with the chief victim of her crime?

EXCERPT:
In this particular situation, she hardly lost herself in the music. She was in the house of people she was helping to rob. She had to play extremely quietly while listening for sounds of approach. Her nerves jangled, and she had to ignore the creepy, guilty feeling of being observed that had freaked her when she first sat down. Besides which, she’d forgotten some of it and had to improvise.

With a frustrated gasp, she dragged her hands upwards off the keys as if they’d been burned. Enough of this, Ariadne!

Twirling round on the stool, she leapt to her feet—and faced the man standing in the open doorway.

“Fuck!” she uttered before she could prevent it.

It wasn’t Jim, or even Shug. Dimly lit from behind as well as from the piano lamp, she had only the impression of a large man in a kilt, arms folded as he leaned against the door-frame to watch her.

“Before we’ve been introduced?” he enquired.

His voice was Scottish, but only just. The sort that would be considered English where she came from. Worse, it was deep and low, with a devastating timbre that vibrated right to the bits you didn’t want to think about while trespassing with criminal intent.

To her alarm, he pushed himself off the wooden frame and came toward her. His kilt swung round good, strong legs—stop looking at his legs!—as he walked, leisurely and graceful as a big cat. He was tall, rumpled as you’d expect of any self-respecting New Year reveler, tieless, his kilt and unbuttoned jacket crushed, shirt open askew at the throat, his dark, curly hair falling in wild disorder across his forehead. Black eyebrows stretched upwards in straight, dramatic lines from the bridge of his nose—devil’s eyebrows—and beneath them, intense, unquiet brown eyes regarded her without blinking. Shadows lurked beguilingly below finely sculpted cheekbones. His nose was slightly hooked, adding a predatory air to already Byronic good looks.

He didn’t look happy.

It was only willpower that prevented her climbing backwards across the stool to get away from him.

Releasing her gaze, his dropped to the region of her lips, flickered lower across her body and back up to her face. Surely that wasn’t a lustful gleam in his eyes now? Trick of the light… In fact, he looked thoroughly pissed off.

“Or have we?” he asked sardonically.

Addie found her voice at last. “Have we what?” she demanded with more aggression than she’d intended.

“Been introduced.”

Christ, I hope not!

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I'll be back Wednesday with a new release from the brilliant author Melissa Bradley. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-03-08T05:15:00.000-08:00

LOVE - SWEDISH STYLE

SULTRY IN SWEDEN
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-723-6
Amber Quill Press - Amber Heat

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BLURB:
Battered hockey player Colt Coltrane arrives in Sweden with one thing on his mind--victory. A bad spill later, however, and he's at the tender mercies of the sexiest masseuse he's ever seen. From that point, all his good intentions go straight to hell when he strips for the Swedish iceberg.

Disa Ellstrom has had it with sports figures who always expect more from her than a massage. She can't believe her friend Carl sent the American goalie to her. Unable to ignore the man's pain, however, Disa takes on Colt and soon finds her heart melting faster than a spring thaw.

Combine a hot-blooded American and a Swedish spitfire and they're sure to set Stockholm ablaze...

EXCERPT:
Disa ran her fingers along Colt’s deltoids, watching the strong muscles flex under her touch. His shyness had been endearing along with confusing. She wondered if his physical problem went farther than the normal aches and pains of a professional athlete. If so, she intended to help him overcome the situation. If not, then he was in for a satisfying surprise. She hoped.

A quick scramble across the sheet gave him more room, then she tugged on his shoulders so he would lay back against the pillow. He winced, but continued to draw his legs up onto the bed.

She combed her fingers through the crisp auburn hairs sprinkled across his broad chest, descending to his beautiful hard dick nestled in a curly, reddish tuft. She swallowed hard, fighting her desire to suck him until he came.

“You are a fine-looking man, Colt.” She rose onto her knees, then traced a fingernail around his tight balls, her inner muscles clenching with desire.

He laid a hand on her calf and slowly eased it up toward her thigh, caressing her. His fingers climbed higher. A shudder ran through her from his gentle massage over her rear end up to the small of her back, then down, slipping a finger between her cheeks. Pressure built when he circled her sphincter, dipping his fingertip into the tight circle, out again, then back in.

She nipped at his balls, laving the tight sacs, savoring their salty taste. Her hand pumped his cock, starting slow and increasing the speed. His hips jerked, rocking with her rhythm, thrusting along her palm.

Deftly, Colt maneuvered out from under Disa and knelt facing her. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her with a passion she had never known. She clung to him, loving his strength, savoring his taste. He pulled away, the skin pulled taut over his cheekbones.

“It’s time to make you happy, baby. How about rolling over?” He tugged on her hip until she faced the brass headboard. “A little more to the center, so we can watch in the dresser mirror.”

She scooted across the rumpled linen and glanced into the antique glass. Their eyes met in the reflection and breath caught in her throat.

“Spread your legs, Disa.” He gently nudged her shoulders to the mattress. “I promise to go easy.”

Kisses rained down her back as he mounted her. His thick cock played against her wet labia, the swollen head teasing into her. After a smooth thrust, he was inside, filling her. One firm palm kneaded her lower abdomen, while his long fingers curled through her pubic hair, covering her mons. He stretched a finger along her nether lips, separating the folds, and massaged her fiery clit.

Tingles shot through her, watching their wavy images across the room. His arm muscles bulged as he moved his hands to her hips, gripping them tight, guiding her to him.

He rocked into her, the strokes faster and faster, his balls slapping against her perineum. He clutched her hips, slamming into her, riding her hard. She reared back, keeping pace, clenching her muscles to hold him tight, straining to swallow him in deeper. She gritted her teeth, biting back the scream that tore through her. Her body pulsed with his touch, screaming for release from the magnificent torture that only he could provide. She clutched the sheets, wadding the warm material in her fists, and burrowed into them, inhaling his musky scent.

“Come for me, baby.” His voice rasped against her back. “God, I need you...”

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I'll be back tomorrow with gifted author Marie Treanor. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-03-04T05:20:00.000-08:00

WOLF HUNT

Marie Treanor's new release is guaranteed to provide thrills and chills in all the right places. Wolf Hunt is a highly sexual, well-written novel centered around an awesome world. This is a book you want to read.

WOLF HUNT
Marie Treanor
ISBN: 978-1-60521-500-6
Changeling Press

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BLURB:
Who's hunting whom?

Human-wolf hybrids have been created by a top secret government project. Jon, Linnet and Yuri, once the military's finest, are released into the world to find and destroy alien infiltrators. But the task is not so simple when the wolves begin to think for themselves, and their missions are complicated by attraction, sex and divided loyalties.

A man wakes up naked and alone in a city doorway -- with no memory of how he got there or who he is. For journalist Rose Winter, a wolf story begins to converge with the sexy naked man she's trying to help. And her own secret becomes impossible to keep.

The werewolf Linnet is in season, and her desires fix on Louis, an alien android who serves Gardenian infiltrators. But is it right to make use of a sentient being just to fulfill her sexual needs? Linnet soon discovers Louis has needs of his own...

When the rebellious Senator Cereza is put in command of the Gardenian invasion fleet, she wastes no time in capturing the mysterious space pirate captain Yuri. But the tables are quickly turned. Taking Cereza hostage is necessary to Yuri. Seducing her isn't part of his plan, not when his wolf is liable to tear her apart and the fate of two peoples is balanced in their hands.

EXCERPT:
"Hey, what's going on?"

The female voice seemed to cut through his skin. Clear, brisk, curious, with a warm pitch that spoke straight to his cock. Or would have, had that organ not been so shriveled with rain and cold. A ripple moved through the hostile crowd. Voices muttered and he had to strain to catch the words.

"I know her. I'm sure I do."

"Who is she?"

"She's that girl on the newscreens. Shit, she's probably got a camera. I'm off..."

Threatening arms in the crowd lowered. Stones dropped casually on the ground with a scattering of dull thuds and several people drifted away.

A young woman emerged from the dispersing crowd, pushing down a rain hood to reveal luxuriant long hair of a bright and rare shade of amber, falling around a face that he supposed was beautiful. Certainly, her bone structure was exquisite, her lips full and tempting, her eyes large and brown...

But it wasn't her beauty or her melting eyes that truly caught his attention. It was her smell. Frowning, he tried to place it. Did he know her? Surely that scent was familiar... Something about it filled his mind with visions of naked, sweating bodies, mainly his own and hers.

She came to an abrupt halt and stared at him. Oh yes, she was highly fuckable, and yet, stronger than his upsurge of unexpected and inconvenient lust was the desire to put his hands around her elegant, swan-like neck and strangle her.

He flexed his fingers.

The older woman was explaining. "Art found him asleep in his doorway when he came home from night shift. Must be a drunk or a down-and-out, some kind of pervert too. Look at him!"

After her first flickering glance, the newcomer seemed to be rather determinedly focusing on his face. "He must be freezing," she said unexpectedly. In an instant, she'd stripped off her raincoat, revealing an orange bodysuit that seemed to match her hair, and bright, chunky beads around her throat. She advanced upon him.

He fell back, giving ground before her as he hadn't before the stone-throwing mob.

She paused. "I won't hurt you. What's your name?"

His throat closed up. Panic threatened to resurface. Her eyes searched his. Every hair on his body stood up in alarm. Though he'd no idea who she was, either, his every instinct was against trusting her.

"Where does he live?" she flung over her shoulder.

Silence and a few shrugs. "Why's he scared of her?" someone muttered.

Scared? Was he? Forcing himself, he stayed still when she took another step nearer to him. Maybe. But it felt like a powerful tug of lust. Mixed with an equally strong urge to exterminate her.

"He's not scared of her," answered another voice with a definite snigger. "He likes her."

She heard them. He could see it in the color soaring into her neck and face. He even admired the way she deliberately didn't so much as glance at his growing cock. And yet it didn't embarrass him. Perhaps he was an exhibitionist after all.

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You can find out more about Marie Treanor and her books on her website.
Catch all her latest news on Facebook. Be sure to join the party on her new blog: Marie Treanor's Romantic Theme Party.

Have a great weekend. I'll be back Tuesday with a new teaser. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey... Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-03-02T05:33:00.000-08:00

OUTLAWS and BAD BOYS - YES!

And no one writes them better than my good friend, Canadian author Jan Springer. Today, we feature her futuristic story, Jude Outlaw, that's a guaranteed thigh-clencher. I lovingly dubbed Jan the Queen of Hot. After you read one of her books, you'll agree. :)

JUDE OUTLAW
Outlaw Lovers 1
Jan Springer
ISBN: 9781843609377
Ellora's Cave

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BLURB:
A fast-acting virus has been unleashed, killing a vast majority of the world's female population and forcing the creation of a new law…The Claiming Law. With the stroke of a pen, males now have all the rights and females are property…sexual property that can only be claimed by groups of men.

When Cate Callahan learns Jude Outlaw is coming home from the Terrorist Wars and is ready to claim her under the new law—with the help of his four remaining brothers—she steals their boat and escapes to the high seas. Unfortunately, her runaway bid for freedom doesn't last for long.
Quickly capturing his lover, Jude rekindles the flames between them preparing her body and seducing her mind into the prospect of experiencing the ultimate in a woman's pleasure…the Outlaw brothers.

EXCERPT:
Jude awoke to the dull throbbing of odd aches and pains in his arms and legs and also to an unusual tickling sensation prodding the feverish head of his cock.

He grit his teeth to the killing pleasure and opened his eyes to find himself lying totally naked on the bed with Cate seated cross legged between his own widespread legs.

She wore nothing but the cutest little smile.

The she-devil!

Obviously, she’d been having her way with his cock while he’d slept. His arms and legs were tied to the bedposts and his erection was in full swing. Thick and hot, his shaft stuck up like a solid pole from between his legs.

His entire body tensed as she fanned a plume across the rounded head of his pulsing penis.

“Glad you could join me for the festivities,” she purred.

Jude swore softly. The tables had turned and now he was at her mercy.
“What are you up to, Cate?”

Stupid question. He knew what she was up to.

Revenge.

“I could tell you but I’ll show you instead.”

Her eyes smiled as the feather tenderly crisscrossed the powerful weave of veins in his throbbing cock.

Jude’s shaft twitched quite pleasantly and he smothered the need to groan.

When she reached the thick base, she slid the plume lower brushing it to and fro across his bulging sack. Lust shot through his heavy balls, spreading upward and spiking his erection with such sweet pain he couldn’t stop the groan from escaping his lips.

“You appear to be in distress,” she whispered.

“Perhaps you should come to my rescue, Cate.”

“Perhaps you should come…”

Shit!

She dropped the feather. Her lips tilted upward into a delicious smile. His body burned as he looked at her mouth. It made him think wild thoughts. Made him want her lips wrapped tightly around his cock, her hot little tongue licking his balls.

He wanted to be loose, to ask her do these things to him.

“Cate, I want…“

Her hand felt soft and warm as she clamped it over his mouth silencing any requests. He noticed the soft dusting of freckles across her nose, noticed the seductive way her green eyes sparkled as she gazed down at him. His chest constricted at her natural beauty.

“Shh, I’ve had five years to think of things I want to do to you too, Jude.”
Her soft words made his body hum.

Holding her hand tightly over his mouth, she reached out with the other hand and cupped his testicles. Despite his best efforts to keep himself under control, his body tightened with tormenting need.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He was supposed to be the one in control. The one who would make her beg him to fuck her and not the other way around…

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Learn more about Jan Springer and her sizzling books on her website. You can catch up with her on Facebook. Be sure to join her newsletter for more information on this talented author.

I'll be back Friday with a new release from Marie Treanor. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-03-01T05:06:00.000-08:00

MELT THE ICE

FINNISH FANTASIES
ISBN 13: 978-1-60272-572-0
Amber Quill Press - Amber Heat

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BLURB:
Being Maid of Honor in Finland over Midsummer’s Eve is supposed to be fun, but for jingle writer Kate Adams it’s a nightmare. Things go from bad to worse when her high-priced rental car dies on an endless ribbon of bone-dry country road. Help arrives in the form of a delicious-looking, blue-collar local who just might make it all worthwhile.

Rurik Jaacko knows better than to stop for the princess perched on the hood of a Mercedes. Hot women and expensive cars are trouble, but he’s a sucker for any damsel in distress. The last thing he expects is to play bellhop to the sensual American, and love every sizzling moment.

A rustic pig farm and a friend who isn’t combine with deception to create the backdrop for earthy passion and international fraud...

EXCERPT:
...With his hard-on raging, Rurik watched her nipples harden and peak through the thin knit shirt and wondered if was their heated exchange that excited her, or the fact he had taken control.

Women want to be dominated.

“There are times a man must take a stand with an unruly woman.” He caught her wrist and tugged her closer.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Color drained from her cheeks, but was that a sparkle in her eyes?

He stopped for a moment and thought about the consequences of his action. Either it would be a beautiful success or Kate would pack her bags right after she rang the police.

“Yes, today I would.” He dropped onto a birch stump and, with a quick yank, upended her over his knees. Her perfect ass across his lap was too tempting to stop.

“You’d better stop before it’s too late, buddy.” She turned her head and shot him a glare that could melt steel.

“It already is.” His palm came down with a resounding smack.

“Ouch.” She kicked her legs and wrestled beneath him.

He laid an arm over her shoulders to keep her in place, praying he had made the right decision.

“Rurik, you are so going to pay for this,” she wailed, startling the birds from the trees.

And he knew he would, right after he laid another open-palm swat on her firm ass.

Whack.

She yelped at the contact, and he loved it. He may have been wrong about her being a spoiled, over-privileged woman, but a good spanking seemed in order to assert his authority. But then again, he had better run like hell when he finally let her up because she was going to murder him.

His hand came down again, not quite as hard, and lingered on her sexy rear, petting away the sting. He ran his fingers along the curve of her cheeks hidden under the tight denim shorts, wondering what his handprint would look like on her milky flesh. A stirring below his belt pressed against his fly, forcing him to shift unsuccessfully under her weight.

She wiggled against his cock, enhancing his torture, and he could not stifle the groan.

“Are you through beating me into submission?” Her words came out breathlessly, reminding him of how her lips had purred against his balls the night before.

“No. I do not think so.” His hand smacked solid on her ass, pleased with her shriek.

He grazed a finger under the ragged edge of her shorts, inching up the inside of her thigh, seeking the heat beneath her damp thong. He hooked the lacey strap and tugged, drawing it tight against her swollen labia, released it and yanked up again. Her soft gasp carried to him on a gentle breeze.

The scent of her arousal drifted up, encouraging him to please her. He glided closer to her folds, teasing along the way with light pinches to her flesh. His finger slipped inside and he smiled, pleased by her wetness. Her pussy flexed against him, clenching—relaxing, milking him, like her mouth had done to his cock.

“I think you like this, Kate.” He knew he did.

A whimper rose up like a caress, her hair tumbling free as she nodded.

He pulled out, then slid back in with two fingers, pressing firmer against her wall.

“Should I continue your torture or”— he continued massaging up and down, until she bucked against him. —“take you into the house and fuck you fast and hard?”

A soft gurgle washed her words away and his balls tightened...

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Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-25T05:28:00.000-08:00

STEAMPUNK - IT'S ALL THE RAGE

British author Robert Appleton is a creative genius. His critically acclaimed books range from erotica to science fiction. Never one to stymie himself, Rob tackled the new Steampunk genre and produced a well-plotted mystery that keeps the reader guessing.

THE MYSTERIOUS LADY LAW
Robert Appleton
ISBN: 9781426891151
Carina Press

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BLURB:
In a time of grand airships and steam-powered cars, the death of a penniless young maid will hardly make the front page. But part-time airship waitress and music hall dancer Julia Bairstow is shattered by her sister's murder. When Lady Law, the most notorious private detective in Britain, offers to investigate the case pro bono, Julia jumps at the chance—even against the advice of Constable Al Grant, who takes her protection surprisingly to heart.

Lady Law puts Scotland Yard to shame. She's apprehended Jack the Ripper and solved countless other cold-case crimes. No one knows how she does it, but it's brought her fortune, renown and even a title. But is she really what she claims to be—a genius at deducting? Or is Al right and she is not be trusted?

Julia is determined to find out the truth, even if it means turning sleuth herself—and turning the tables on Lady Law...

EXCERPT:
The hillside site at Dover was a veritable three-ring circus of photographers, police, picnickers, mobile sandwich and hot chestnut stalls, curious ramblers and more bespectacled men than Julia had ever seen congregated in one place. She guessed the latter were scientists and newspaper men. The Pegasus swooped low for a wonderfully close passing view of the iron mole, minutes before the start of its grand adventure. Other airships followed suit, then the convoy climbed, executed a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turnaround and flew back over the machine, this time affording the passengers on the opposite side of the ships a clear view.

“It’s revving up,” Al enthused, responding to oohs and aahs from the far tables. “Come on.” He took Julia by the hand and hurried her across. A growl from below spun to a wiry squealing crescendo, much louder than she’d expected. No one would make way for Al, so to gain a better view he climbed onto a nearby chair. Julia offered to let him steady himself on her shoulder—the spectacle obviously meant more to him—but instead he helped her up onto a chair of her own.

Heady with excitement, she kept hold of his hand all while they watched.

The giant drill spun so fast she couldn’t make out its iron grooves. Its nose was a whirling monstrous cone of quite astounding power. Its silver body, a long, caterpillar cylinder covered with a spiral of toothlike treads, soon blackened under a layer of earth tossed up from the burrowing drill. A little over ten feet of penetration and already the debris cloud reached as high as the airships, masking much of the show.

Loud cheers and applause filled the Pegasus. Al beamed like a schoolboy at the fair. He reached over and gave Julia a peck on the cheek. She gripped his hand tighter. The Pegasus circled the cloud for a better view and she cheered along with everyone when the mole’s rear slid into the hillside and vanished, leaving a huge dark crater.

“It’s amazing,” she yelled above the furor.

“What’s that?” asked Al.

“Professor McEwan…he doesn’t even know what he’ll find down there.”

“I know. He’s a braver man than I…the magnificent fool.”

“Do you think we’ll ever see him again?” she asked.

Laughing, high on the moment, he hurled his hat and gloves at the ceiling and replied, “I don’t suppose he’s thought that far ahead. Relish it, Julia. He digs down, we climb high, the sun is out. This is a good day to be English!”

The small brass and woodwind sections finished their rendition of “Land of Hope and Glory,” then deferred to the string quartet for a lively number. Strauss’s “Tristch-Tratsch Polka,” one of her absolute favourites. Couples from all over the dining room, and even a few from the upper deck, scurried onto the polished, glittering dance floor and arranged themselves in a circle.

“Now or never,” Julia teased, holding her arms out for Al to lift her down from the chair.

He grinned and leapt to her aid with the agility of a swashbuckler. “Hey, do you even know this dance?”

“One way to find out.”

The dust cloud faded in the whorl of a breeze outside, permitting full, unfettered entry to the most brilliant sunlight Southern England had seen in weeks. It reflected off shiny crockery and bare tabletops and the roof of the spotless piano, blinding every dancer who spun in that direction. To her surprise, Al segued into the fast tempo with grace to spare, his compact, athletic frame matching her turn for turn. The feel of his hand on her waist made her giddy and his gaze found hers even when they changed partners. It inspired her to improvise during the ladies’ solo forays into the centre, and her bouncy quick-shuffles and spins soon drew generous applause from spectators. Al never once faltered. He was the steady glide to her soaring syncopation. This was her moment to shine. Hers and Al’s. While they were together, everyone else aboard the Pegasus faded away.

She had never enjoyed dancing more.

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To learn more about Robert Appleton and his intriguing books, visit his website or swing by his blog. He’s also on Facebook and Twitter

Have a terrific weekend. I'll be back Tuesday with a new teaser. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-23T06:31:00.000-08:00

TOUGH CHOICES

are what everyone faces at some point in their life. KC Kendriks' emotionally charged book A HARD HABIT TO BREAK immerses the read into the world of two men on the verge of altering their lives forever. It's an excellent read and one that was obviously written from the heart.

A HARD HABIT TO BREAK
KC Kendriks
ISBN 978-1-60272-671-0
Amber Quill Press – Amber Allure

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BLURB:
As the reigning stud of the local gay club scene, every guy in the county knows Travis Templeton, and vies for his attention. Travis wears his crown lightly, careful not to break any hearts. He knows what it’s like to really love someone who doesn’t love you back-at least, not in the way you want.

Heath Kelley made the biggest mistake of his life the night before his best friend Travis left for college. One small action snowballed into years of silent misunderstanding and empty distance. When Heath accepts a transfer that sends him to his hometown, he doesn’t know Travis has moved back home, too. It doesn’t take long for the men to reconnect.

Admitting they never stopped thinking of each other as “best friends” is easy. Forgiveness of past sins is easy, but confessing their secrets comes harder. When Heath discovers the truth about Travis’ private life, the newly repaired bonds of friendship are stretched taut.

It’s time for Travis to choose – the love of his best friend, or a life of being second best.

EXCERPT:
The ghost of his lips slid coolly over mine like they had so many times over the years, a phantom whisper that raised gooseflesh on the back of my thighs and buttocks. Travis fixed me with a stare far colder than my memories. His angry, hurt voice froze my insides.

“You had what I wanted, Heath. You were normal. You dated girls. You fucked girls.” He sucked in a deep, difficult breath. When he spoke again, the anger was gone, but not the hurt.

“Then you kissed me and brought the very thing I hated right to my bed. How could you do that to me? Why didn’t you tell me you were really gay?”

Stunned, my knees wobbled, and I leaned back against his car before they gave out and I ended up on the pavement. Never had I imagined he felt such self-loathing. I hadn’t seen it, but then I’d been just seventeen. Liking some girls muddied the water for me, and I never thought of myself as anything but straight, back then.

What I felt for Travis was special, outside everything, and everyone, else. He was my best friend. I was a senior in college before I dared put a name to my sexuality, and begin to accept what it meant. I took a chance he wouldn’t shake me off, and grasped his elbow. He trembled under my fingertips.

“Travis, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. How could I?”

He shivered, like he had a sudden chill. The anger left his beautiful eyes, to be replaced by a great sadness.

“I’m sorry, too, Heath. I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought you’d hate me.
I thought you’d run away from me, and then I ran away from you.”

My chest ached. Thirteen years lost.

“I could never hate you, Travis. There was a lot I didn’t know about my teenage self. So much I didn’t understand.” I took a deep breath. “The truth is, I’m bi.”

His eyebrows drifted up. He blinked. I nodded and rolled my eyes at him.
“Don’t look at me like I’m speaking a foreign language.”

Travis swallowed, hard, his Adam’s apple moving convulsively. “Um, sorry. Not that you’re…Your mom… I mean, I thought… is Dani a man or a woman?”
It was my turn to blink. “How’d you hear about Dani?”

“Your mother mentioned her.”

Fuck.

“Well, buddy, Dani is a guy. Daniel.”

“That’s not what I heard, man. Your mother thinks you had a live-in girlfriend.”

I snorted. How was he going to handle this bit of information?

“Well, Travis. Dani is fucking hot in a skirt, and on the telephone, it would be easy to jump to several conclusions.”

He blinked owlishly. “I see.”

I doubted it. Dani did standup comedy in full drag regalia, and it was damn funny.

Travis slumped against the fender beside me, our shoulders brushing. “You still want to go get that pizza? I really have to eat something so my glucose level doesn’t bottom out on me.”

That sounded like my old friend. “Do you still run for fun?”

Travis treated me to a real grin. “Yeah. Gotta feed the machine. Do you still run?”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t the same without you. Maybe I can get back into it, though. What do you think? Will you help me start training again?”

He looked pleased as he nodded. “Sure. It’ll help us get to know each other again.”

I leaned a little closer. “So, you’re not going to blow me off?”

Travis drew back like I’d struck him. Too late I realized the double-entendre. I grabbed his arm.

“Oh, no. No, man, I did not mean I wanted…I meant you weren’t going tell me to go to hell and then run away again.”

His eyes narrowed. “What? I’m not good enough to give you a blow job?”

We’d veered into very murky waters, the potential for disaster suddenly and exponentially increasing. We’d just reconnected, and the only thing that kept me from throwing my arms around him and never letting go was fear he’d bolt again.

As for blow jobs, I’d go to my knees for him anytime he snapped his fingers and pointed at the spot, but I didn’t dare tell him that for the exact same reason.

“Lord, Travis. Let’s not talk about sex just yet.”

To my surprise, he chuckled. “Heath Kelley, backpedaling. I’m amazed I lived long enough to see it happen.”

“Laugh all you like. We can talk sex over lunch.”

Travis turned to me, arms crossed over his chest, his hip against the car.

“No, Heath. We won’t talk sex. You’ll always be my best friend. Hell, you’re more than that. I’ve missed you so much.” He paused and took a deep breath.

“Sex is off limits, Heath. I don’t want to talk about it with you, and as friends, we’re not going to do it.”

He might think that, but I knew better.

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This title is also available as part of FROM THIS MOMENT ON, a five-story PAX available only at Amber Allure.

Learn more about KC Kendricks on her website and blog. You can follow her on Twitter and MySpace. Join KC's mailing list for all her latest news.

I'll be back Friday with a new release from the uber talented Robert Appleton. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-22T05:11:00.000-08:00

SEX CLUBS AND ROMANCE?

PHOTO OP!
ISBN: 978-1-60168-139-3
Aspen Mountain Press

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BLURB:

Photojournalist Emily Peters is in Paris when the opportunity to expose an infamous sex club sets her on fire. She never expects to be tied up in knots by the Devil.

Restaurateur Nicholas Caine prefers an inconspicuous lifestyle, but when a sex goddess enters his lair there’s only one thing he can do…take her.

EXCERPT:
Her nose twitched as a subtle, yet pleasant, aroma surrounded her.

“It is pear, Madam.”

Another tall handsome waiter, looking good enough to eat, stood at her side and without a word slid a menu in front of her. She glanced up into large chocolate eyes and her heart stuttered.

“Pardon?” Her voice came out on a whoosh of air.

“I noticed your attempt to distinguish the scent.” He waved a large hand in the air. “Many of our ladies have had your same reaction.”

She cleared her throat. “Delightful.”

“At times, late in the evening, the air is infused with a hint of cinnamon and chocolate.” His eyes twinkled as if he were sharing a dark secret. “Tempts one to indulge in a decadent dessert. Would you care for one, Ms Peters?”

A shiver weaved its way up her spine when he said her name. With shaking fingers, she took a gulp of ice water, ordering her oversexed body to behave.

“If nothing on the menu appeals to you, Chef Claude would be elated to whip up whatever you prefer.”

British and gorgeous. And then it sunk in. Chef Claude.

“Is he Claude St. Cyr? The same chef who owns a cooking school?”

The waiter from every woman’s fantasy grinned. “One in the same.”

Now what the hell is he doing in a place like this?

“Ms Peters?” He tapped a well-groomed fingernail on the menu.

“What? Oh yes.” She flipped open the leather jacket to scan the tasty treats, her one downfall. The card read like an international list of culinary sexual pleasures.

Spotted Dick presented by Jon

Bavarian Cream presented by Hans

Hot Soufflé presented by Francois

Mocha Butter presented by Motumba

Emily slipped the cap off her lipstick tube, then did an unhurried swipe along her bottom lip, wondering just how far the presenters would go.

“Do you see anything you like?” His deep voice played havoc with her senses as she squirmed in her damp panties.

“Too bad you don’t offer Cumberland Rum Nicky. I enjoyed it at a restaurant in London a few years ago. Never found it again.” His tanned face paled as if she’d requested to borrow The Crown Jewels.

“Perhaps a dish of Whim Wham?”

“No thanks, I’m fanciful enough.” She laughed at her little joke about the true meaning of the Scottish pie. “I’d really like a Benedictine straight up and a cup of black coffee.”

He nodded and walked toward the bar area.

Of all the waitstaff Emily had encountered or seen during her two hours over dinner, this last was the paix de la résistance. Sable brown hair caressed his white shirt collar. She’d give anything to run her fingers through the thick waves.

The Reverend and ladies met with her lickable waiter at the doorway. He stood to the side, gesturing for them to go first. The tallest of the women stopped and started up a conversation, but he backed away the moment she ran her fingers along his jaw line.

Seems like the help gets to play with the clientele.

Emily pulled the cap off her lipstick tube.

Smile, I think you’re going to like this one.

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I'll be back tomorrow with KC Kendricks. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-21T07:25:00.000-08:00

GREAT BALLS OF FIRE

The house is rocking! The MILLION DOLLAR QUARTET celebrates 1000 nights onstage at the Apollo Theater in Chicago.

Not familiar with this new smash-hit musical? Here’s a little background:

On December 4, 1956, four musicians held the greatest jam session ever.

No, I don't own this priceless photo. I "borrowed" it from the official website.

Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins and Elvis Presley met with Sam Phillips, the “Father of Rock-n-Roll,” at Sun Records’ storefront studio in Memphis, Tennessee. Sam Phillips discovered them all and propelled them to success. That night was the only time these great talents ever came together. Their ad-lib recording session embodied the birth of rock ‘n’ roll and has come to be known as one of the greatest rock jam sessions ever.

Studs and I had the great fortune to see MILLION DOLLAR QUARTET. We both agree, it is the best play we’ve seen in years.

The talented actors Gabe Bowling, Carl Perkins, David Lago, Elvis Presley, Lance Lipinsky, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Sean Sullivan, Johnny Cash bring the musical to life and the audience to their feet. Darcy Wood, Dyanne, gives a stellar performance with her rendition of “Fever.” Make it a point to follow the careers of these outstanding performers, they'll be mega-stars in a short time.

MILLION DOLLAR QUARTET features a score of rock hits that have you dancing in your seat. "Blue Suede Shoes," "That's All Right," "Sixteen Tons," "Great Balls of Fire," "Walk the Line," "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On," "Who Do You Love?," "Matchbox," "Folsom Prison Blues," "Hound Dog" are just a few of the great songs.

Be sure to make a date and rock the night away at the
Apollo Theater
2540 North Lincoln Avenue
Chicago, IL.

Purchase tickets direct from Apollo Theater 773-935-6100 or order on line from Ticketmaster.com. I suggest calling the theater. Prices are better, tickets can be picked up performance night, and they walk you through the seating chart.

Check out this thrilling musical’s website for a great look behind the scenes.

Be sure to buy the $20.00 cd. It’s TERRIFIC!

I’ll be back tomorrow with a new Tuesday Teaser. Until then…

Happy Listening!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-18T05:52:00.000-08:00

COWBOY KINK

is definitely Marie Tuhart's forte. Written with a flair only Marie possesses, her latest release QUICK SILVER RANCH: ROPED AND READY is HOT!

To celebrate, Maire is having a party on her blog. Stop by and find out how to enter her release day contest.

QUICK SILVER RANCH: ROPED AND READY
Marie Tuhart
The Wild Rose Press

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BLURB:
Quick Silver Ranch is no ordinary dude ranch.

After Becca Dalton finds her fiancé in bed with her boss, she ends the ill-fated engagement on the spot and quits her job. She heads to Quick Silver Ranch, looking to regroup before an interview for the job of her dreams--an executive position at a five-star hotel.

Becca's best-laid plans are ruined when she discovers the exclusive ranch is for consenting couples who spend their days and nights exploring their most wicked sexual fantasies. For Becca to remain at the ranch and take advantage of all the arousing activities, she needs a partner.

Her sexy college lover and part owner of the ranch, Tyler Carson, is willing to break all the rules, partner up with Becca and have her roped and ready for a week of unimaginable pleasure. But is a week enough to satisfy his desire for Becca?

EXCERPT:
Indecision kept her from going into the bedroom and packing. A knock sounded. Cross the room, she pulled open the door.

"Hi," said Tyler.

Her insides melted. Liquid heat flooded her pussy and her nipples grew hard. Damn it, it wasn't fair he could do this to her after all this time. "Come in." She left the door open and retreated, wrapping her arms around her waist.

The door slid closed with a quiet click. She paced around the room. "I didn't realize-I mean-Oh, hell." Her arms waved in the air as she tried to explain. "I'm sorry. I'll leave."

"You don't have to." He crossed the room to stop in front of her.

The heat coming from his body singed her skin.

"It’s couples only, Tyler. I didn't know about the adult part either, until I read the book here in my cabin."

"Yes, it usually is couples only. But you do have a choice in the matter."

"I don't see how." She tilted her head. Did he want her to stay?

"We do have regular dude ranch activities. I'm sure you read that in the brochure. I can teach you to ride if you decide to stay. I'll be your guide for the week."

"That would be nice." Who was she kidding? It would be torture. He's asking as a friend, not as a lover. She wanted the lover. After Alan's rejection the unwanted, unlovable feelings overwhelmed her. And now here was this uncontrollable reaction to Tyler, giving her more proof the wedding to Alan was nothing but a shame. She needed to feel like a woman, again. And Tyler could do that for her, she was confident he could. But only if he was willing.

"Your choice, Becca."

Her haze gaze clashed with his blue one. Stay or go. She wanted to stay.

Her mind was made up. Stepping closer to him, she asked, "Will you be my guide for the adult activities as well, Tyler?"

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Learn more about Marie Tuhart and her band of hot cowboys on her website and Escape to an Erotic Fantasy on her blog.

Have a great weekend. I'll be back Monday. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-17T06:54:00.000-08:00

THE ROAD TO PUBLICATION

Captivating Sarah Grimm and I met at a conference more years back than either of us wish to admit. We've remained friends, boosting each other when needed and slogging down cyber beers to celebrate our successes. Today, Sarah is here to share her heartfelt writer's journey and its brilliant outcome.

I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. I have notebooks filled with poems, story ideas, and partial chapters from as far back as age five. Yes, thanks to my older sister, I could read and write by age five. And I did. I read everything I could get my hands on, usually re-writing the story in my head as I went. If you asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always answered something different depending on the day. I couldn’t make up my mind. Then I picked up my first romance novel. Suddenly I had my answer: “I want to get married, have children and write romances.”

As a young girl, I always had a story to tell. At times they were funny, other times scary, but they were always, and I mean always, happily-ever-after. You see, I’m a romantic—a die hard romantic. I believe in love, not just as a fundamental part of human relationships, but as a force that really can heal emotional scars. I truly believe there is someone for everyone—the person they are meant to find. Their other half. Their soul mate.

I always say that NOT WITHOUT RISK was the first story I wrote from start to finish, but after being asked to put something together about my road to publication, I realized that it wasn’t. My first story wasn’t even a romance, it was a story about my best friend. A story I titled MY CAT SNEAKER, which won a Young Authors Award. I still have the award, and the story, packed away with a few mementos from my youth.

When I got married, I set my writing aside. I focused on my husband and building a family. Then my youngest son was born and the struggle to keep him alive began. He was healthy at birth, colicky, irritable even, but healthy—until he turned six weeks old and began showing symptoms of croup. Fast forward a few months to me, frantically rushing in and out of the hospital with my son. We made so many late night emergency visits that my oldest began sleeping by the door to keep track of mommy. I can’t tell you how many times we rushed to the hospital with a child who was turning blue, only to be told by the doctors that they didn’t know what was wrong with him. Most of them thought I was just a young, overreacting mother (I even got the condescending pat on the head from a few), but one believed there was something more going on than croup.

That man saved my child’s life. He found a birthmark in my son’s throat that obstructed eighty percent of his airway. By the time we were done, my baby had endured stomach surgery, throat surgery, and a tracheotomy with all the special care that entails. As you can imagine, all the hospital time left me desperate for a distraction, so I took pen to paper, yup, longhand, and wrote my first romance. Not just bits and pieces of a book, but the entire hero and heroine’s journey from ‘Chapter One’ to ‘The End’.

Once the book was finished, I joined Romance Writer’s of America nationally as well as my local chapter. I went to conferences and learned about the craft of writing. I wrote and re-wrote that book, about four times actually, until I felt it was good enough to submit. I submitted to Triskelion just after they received RWA recognition, and they accepted it. I wasn’t with a big NY publisher, but I didn’t care. I was going to be published.

Then Triskelion began having problems. There were some of us who could see it coming, but like a train wreck, there wasn’t anything we could do. By this time, my first book had debuted to rave reviews and brisk sales, and they’d accepted my second book proposal. When they went bankrupt, I stopped writing. I felt betrayed and discouraged. In retrospect I should have kept plugging along, doing what I loved most, but I guess we don’t always do what’s best for us.

In 2008 I decided enough was enough and jumped back into the publishing world with both feet. I submitted to The Wild Rose Press. I was thrilled when they accepted my romantic suspense, NOT WITHOUT RISK. Even more so when it was released in January 2010 to reviews calling it “…fast paced, nail biting, page turning, edge of your seat suspense…” and "...a romantic, adventurous, thrilling read."

I’m happily writing again. I have just completed edits on my second book, a contemporary romance titled AFTER MIDNIGHT, to be released soon by The Wild Rose Press. And I’m currently writing its follow-up, MIDNIGHT HEAT.

Oh, and how could I forget? NOT WITHOUT RISK was just nominated for the Long and Short of It’s BEST BOOK of 2010. The polls are active beginning February 14 at and will continue until February 27. If you'd like to vote, and I appreciate it if you do, please click here.

*****

NOT WITHOUT RISK
Sarah Grimm
The Wild Rose Press

Available now in eBook and Print. BUY LINK

BLURB:
Six agonizing months after a slug collapsed his lung, Sergeant Justin Harrison manages to return to the one place where he shines—the San Diego homicide division. Nothing will stand in the way of proving he is fit for active duty. Especially not the long-legged brunette who just stumbled into his crime scene.

Photographer Paige Conroy spent years hiding from her past. Then a late night telephone call brings it crashing back. An old friend is in town and needs her help. When she arrives at his hotel room four hours later, he's dead. Suddenly, she's the target of a madman, and Paige must turn to Sergeant Harrison for protection.

But who is the bigger threat to her... the faceless assailant she fears will steal her life or the dark-eyed detective she knows could steal her heart?

EXCERPT:
Paige had lost count of the times she’d told herself to stay away from him. She couldn’t stay away from him. Even as his words confirmed without a doubt they had no future together, the vulnerability in his eyes called out to her. She removed her fingers from his and slid her left hand up his chest to cup his jaw. His gaze warmed, the color of his eyes deepened as she dragged her fingers back and forth across the scruff of his beard stubble.

He would never love her.

She shifted her hand again, this time boldly smoothing her fingers across his lips. What should have been the catalyst that pushed her across the room drew her closer.

Justin reached up and curled his fingers around her wrist. “Be sure you want this,” he warned in a low growl. “I can’t make you any promises.”

She didn’t want any promises. She wasn’t looking to the future or worrying about the intelligence of her decision. For once, Paige wanted to live in the moment. She let reason slip and need take its place. “I want this,” she whispered, her thumb exploring his bottom lip. “I want you.”

The hand he held curled around her wrist flexed once, otherwise he did not move. Paige pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and stood. Unabashedly, she straddled his legs and settled atop his lap, her knees hugging his hips. The hard press of his erection shot sensations through her body like lightning bolts and drove a little growl of pleasure from the back of her throat.

She shuddered as he pulled her even closer, plowed his fingers into her hair and arched her head back. They were inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes, breathing the same air. His eyes weren’t cool now, they simmered with life, with greed and desire. His mouth hovered over hers for what seemed like an eternity then settled.

He was gentle at first and then, as she surrendered, his mouth explored hers with greater intent. He kissed her almost roughly, completely on fire, sweeping his tongue possessively into her mouth. His hands settled on her hips, gliding upward beneath her shirt until his palms closed over her naked breasts. His moan of approval, so raw and husky, vibrated into her mouth and made her heart pound even harder. The sensation of bare flesh against bare flesh sent waves of heat spiraling from her head to her toes. Her nipples hardened. Her belly quivered.

Arching her back, she pressed herself firmly into his palms and invited his hands to explore her more fully. He did, rolling her straining nipples between his fingers then worrying them with the friction of his palms. Her body shuddered. Wet heat flooded her core.

“Paige,” he breathed, as his mouth plundered her throat, fastened on that incredibly sensitive spot beneath her ear, then continued down to fasten on one of her breasts. He drew in the rigid tip of her nipple, and sucked.

Her lips parted on a quiet moan. She wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers into his hair, as pleasure arrowed through her system. The hot wet feel of his mouth on her was almost more than she could handle. And yet, it wasn’t enough. His hands smoothed down her sides to settle on her hips. His fingers curled into her flesh as he used his teeth, his tongue, his lips.

A gasp escaped her when he lifted her, sealing his torso to hers as he settled her along the length of the couch in one smooth motion. Bracing himself with his arms to keep his weight from crushing her, he came down on top of her, shifting his hips and pressing his erection more fully against her. His mouth returned to hers in a dizzying kiss.

Available now in eBook and Print. BUY LINK

Learn more about Sarah Grimm on her website and blog. Be sure to join her Facebook Fan Page and Twitter for more updates.

I'll be back tomorrow with a new release from Marie Tuhart. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-16T05:32:00.000-08:00

COWBOY HEAT

Nothing says Happy Holidays like a pair of rough and tumble cowboys good enough to eat. Cowboys for Christmas is a hot read you'll want to crack open any time of the year.

COWBOYS FOR CHRISTMAS
Destiny Blaine
ISBN 978-1-60168-383-0
Aspen Mountain Press

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BLURB:
A holiday blizzard brings a pair of cowboys to a woman's home.

Julie Kensworth opens her door to more than a blizzard and greets two wayward cowboys. She realizes right away she’s headed straight for the eye of the storm.
Brandon Blake and Quinn Stewart are a long way from home. They’re looking for a warm place to hang their hats while they try to wait out the snow and ice, which continues to gain momentum.

Julie is an author and she’s not just the average writer, she’s one of the most notorious writers in the world. When Quinn and Blake figure out Julie is an erotic romance author, well, needless to say, their minds churn with all sorts of ideas, most of them geared toward how they can heat up the cold winter nights ahead.

EXCERPT:
"I don’t know why you’re pouting," Brandon spat a few minutes later. "She didn’t tell us to hit the road, she just told us to wait out here until she dressed in private."

"I guess I was hoping for an explicit expression of gratitude."

Brandon pointed toward the mantle. "Don’t forget. She probably has a boyfriend."

Quinn ignored him and eyed the bookcase. "The boyfriend isn’t what I’ve been thinking about. What I’m wondering is why she has so many of those Carla Carrington books."

Julie strolled in the kitchen like a breath of fresh air. She lit up the place with an easy smile and a refreshing stroke of confidence. "Carla Carrington is my pseudonym."

"Do huh?" Brandon asked, chin dropping.

"Your pseudonym?" Quinn asked for clarification.

"Yeah," Julie said. "I’m a writer."

Brandon felt like something was stuck in his chest. She wasn’t just a writer. She was the best selling, award-winning author of scorching hot books often made into explicit after-dark television movies. She’d been on the lips of quite a few talk show hosts who openly covered the demise of morals in today’s world. Carla Carrington wrote the kind of books that Brandon wouldn’t have let his daughter read—assuming he had a daughter, which he didn’t. On the other hand, if he had a wife, Carla’s books would’ve been mandatory reading.

"You said you’re a writer," Brandon began, clearing his throat. "But Carla Carrington is..."

"I’m Carla," she interrupted. "I write under a couple of pseudonyms."

Quinn looked around the small cottage. He was probably thinking the same thing Brandon was. Why did she live in such a small house if she was really Carla Carrington? Carla should’ve been living in an oceanfront mansion with a full crew doting on her, bringing her chocolate covered mints and arranging social events.

The woman behind the world’s most scandalous writing should not have been dressed in hide-tight blue jeans, a low-cut fitted sweater, and have her hair tossed up in a clumsy ponytail. A woman writing explicit scenes like the one Brandon had read earlier should not have looked like an adorable barely legal girl!

Brandon was suddenly uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-six, why?"

"Just curious. That’s all." He was also amazed he could speak.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Quinn blurted out.

Way to fucking go! Brandon set his jaw and watched the color drain from Julie’s cheeks. Brandon shot Quinn a cold stare. "You can quit foaming at the mouth anytime now."

Quinn didn’t say anything. Brandon braced for fighting words. The cold glare he received raked over him about as deliberately as a verbal retaliation.

Brandon decided what the hell. Quinn started this. "Do you have a boyfriend?" He’d die right there if she said she had a husband.

"No, I do not." She marched across the kitchen, opened the pantry, and retrieved two jars of her homemade soup, setting them on the small island in the kitchen’s center. "Anyone hungry?"

Brandon grinned, staring at her ass. "Honey, I’m practically starving."

BUY LINK

Learn more about Destiny Blaine on her Website and blog. Also, catch up with her on Facebook.

I'll be back tomorrow with some great news about my good friend, author Sarah Grimm. Be sure to come back. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-15T05:27:00.000-08:00

TURN UP THE HEAT

ISABELLA IGNITES
Magnificent Men of Munich Book Four
ISBN: 978-1-60168-256-7
Aspen Mountain Press

BUY LINK

BLURB:
Jet setter Isabella Carrington has it all, fame, heart-stopping looks, and carte blanche over every man she meets, except one. Staid accountant Rhineholdt Hoffman proves to be immune to her charms. Until one hot Venetian night.

Rhineholdt came to Venice to escape a life that holds no meaning. He’s sworn off sex until a chance encounter with the luscious Isabella. Their heated affair sets the City of Bridges on fire and forces him to face the fears holding him back.

So what does a woman who has everything, except the right man, do for fun? Come… Take a peek behind Isabella’s bedroom door.

EXCERPT:
Holt wanted to fuck her all night long. Ride her until sunup and again all the next day. He could not seem to get his fill of Isabella. In bed or out.

Isabella stretched up, her nipples sliding against his chest, and kissed him. He clutched her tighter, then scooped her up into his arms. In a few strides he stood at the side of her bed and lowered her onto the center of the duvet.

He looked down on her, allowing his fingertips to skim along the curve of her hip as she pulled her knees up, covering the part of her he wanted most to see.

“No, Issy. Lower your legs and open them.” He traced his hand down the inside of her thigh. “I want to see all of you.”

“Holt, but do not tease me any longer.” She reached out her hand to his.

He mounted the mattress, then braced his arms on either side of her, isolating them from the world, and swung his body between her wide spread thighs.

He kissed her mouth, along her cheek, moving lower to her throat. She wiggled and tried to thrust her hips against him, but he caught her, holding her still.

“It is my turn to have a little fun, Issy.” He sucked her nipple into his mouth, swirling the peak with his tongue until she moaned. A series of shudders ran the length of her as she reached for his cock, but he reared up just enough to stop contact.

Holt kissed his way down Isabella’s body, laving at her navel until her hands pushed his shoulders lower, as if she craved his mouth on her hot clit.

Her swollen pussy was wet and shiny, the blonde hairs laced with her cream. He ran an index finger between her folds and she moaned. Her hips bucked as he slid his finger up and down, along her channel, barely grazing her clit.

He lowered his shoulders, nestling between her thighs, and traced his mouth along her skin until her wet hairs tickled his cheek. Slowly he spread her folds, the pink flesh quivering with his touch, then laved and sucked her labia, loving the sweet honey taste of her sex.

She grabbed the rails of the headboard, rising up to meet his lips, but he clamped her hips into place. Her trembling body tensed and he knew she was but a lick away. He slid his index finger into her wet channel, massaging against the inside wall. She moaned and her muscles clenched around him, holding him tight. He edged out, then glided two fingers back in, rotating them against the slick walls as he watched her unfocused eyes widen.

“Dieu, Holt, no more torture.” Her pitch had dropped to a throaty whisper, the words coming out strangled.

He looked up at her. With shaky fingers, he wiped her wetness from his face and repositioned himself between her thighs…

BUY LINK

I'll be back tomorrow with Destiny Blaine. Until then...

Happy Reading.

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-14T07:38:00.000-08:00

A SWEET OPPORTUNITY

During the day, Celia Kyle is an Assistant Controller of a multi-million dollar company that manages a billion dollar portfolio of apartment communities and commercial buildings. By night, she’s a multi-published author of over thirty works. Celia has created several multi-author series’ including Strange Hollow at Liquid Silver Books and the Big, Blooming & Wild and Dragon Kin series’ with Changeling Press. She also worked as the Art Director for Aspen Mountain Press. So what does a high energy person do to round out her career? Found out in our Q & A session.

What prompted you to open Summerhouse Publishing house?

I had a few "edgier" stories that I wanted to publish but was worried that they'd be too much for some of my current publishers and the idea of self-publishing came to mind. Unfortunately, there are a few stigmas surrounding self-published works, costs for artwork that can cost a pretty penny as well as the need for quality editing before publication. I figured that if I had those concerns, others probably did as well. SHP provides authors a "house" to stand behind, quality editing, gorgeous artwork and two owners dedicated to marketing their authors to their fullest.

I felt there was a gap within the industry. With the growing popularity of self-publishing, Summerhouse Publishing acts as a middle ground between authors self-publishing their works and a full scale publishing house. We take well-written manuscripts and give them a final polish with copy-editing, provide professional cover art, wide spread distribution and extensive marketing. We help eliminate the stigma surrounding self-publishing by giving those authors a "house" to stand behind.

How will your house be different than anything we've seen before?

We showcase works different from the norm, sweet romances with space pirates and legends of King Arthur to books where a sexy djinn is trapped in a treadmill and not a lamp. Also, our "taboo" list is a smidge shorter than other publishers. We want envelopes pushed and stories that aren't the "norm".

What kind of product will you deliver to your readers?

Engaging, exciting and captivating books. Short or long, sweet or erotic, SHP wants to be a go-to place for readers. We’ve got three lines of short works geared toward readers searching for something on their lunch hour to novels for those that like to settle in for a night spent in another world.

When is the grand opening?

We open March 14th. Our release program is one book every other week, but on opening day we feature two books.

The first is HER DARK FAIRY by Ella Vines, an engaging historical paranormal erotic romance that touches your heart and *ahem* other places.

The second is INDIGO RAIN by Taige Crenshaw, an action-packed paranormal erotic romance with plenty of fighting both in and out of the bedroom.

Tell us a little about your future releases and their authors.

Davida McLea brings us some roadside lovin' and Darragha Foster is the source of the aforementioned treadmill djinn. Wayne Greenough tugs us into space while KG McAbee hurls us into the past with her gothic romance. Scottie Blaine shows us her love of horses and manlove. Then there’s Mina Carter who always manages to get your heart pumping with both fighting and sex…occasionally at the same time. And Lizzie Lynn Lee brings us a lot of passion in many unusual locations.

What sort of stories will SHP offer and in what lengths and formats?

Everything from straight contemporary to paranormal to BDSM and everything in between. There are no limits to the sub-genres and sexual encounters we are interested in. We publish works as short as 3,000 words and actually have three short story lines specifically targeted for readers who like a quick shot of love on their lunch hours. Can't Think Straight features same-sex couples, both male/male and female/female while Digital Decadence features heterosexual couples. And Electronic Excess welcomes multiple partner relationships/sexual encounters.

Do you have any specific lines that readers watch for?

We've got three special short story lines featuring same-sex relationships (Can't Think Straight), heterosexual relationships (Digital Decadence) as well as multi-partner relationships (Electronic Excess).

Why will readers want to keep SHP books on their readers?

We'll constantly be offering new books that touch their hearts and *ahem* other places. Not necessarily in the same book. We'll have all flavors of romance and erotica with something sure to tempt the most discerning reader.

Are you open for submissions? Do you accept unagented, unpublished authors, and unsolicited submissions?

Of course! Authors are authors, plain and simple. We welcome everyone.

What type of stories is Summerhouse Publishing seeking? What are your submission requirements?

We accept works as short as 3,000 words to full-length novels. Those manuscripts are well-written, with no plot holes, head hopping and have been thoroughly self-edited. Currently I'm interested in interesting stories. I know that's pretty vague, but there are so many sub-genres that I enjoy in romance and erotica that I have a hard time settling on just a handful right now.

Why will authors want to write for SHP?

Authors that want a house that encourages their imaginations to fly free, that crave fewer limitations, should consider us. We are transparent in our dealings with authors and staff. Short of providing my social security number, I'm more than happy to answer any questions authors may have. I actually encourage any authors even thinking of submitting to SHP to contact me with any and all concerns. I want authors and staff happy to be associated with SHP, to be proud to have their manuscripts accepted and thrilled to list SHP on their resumes. Also, our pay rate start at 60% net. Those rates rise up to 70% net as sales rise.

Do you have a strategy to make your company get known?

We'll be actively marketing books in a variety of ways including social networking, advertising on blogs and press releases.

Will you be making any appearances at conferences this year?

2011 is a year of growth and setting roots for SHP. We're reinvesting any profits made into the house, its authors and staff. While I believe that appearances will be an important part of networking in the future, we want to make sure that establishing SHP is our first priority.

How can readers easily find the latest updates on SHP, its books, its authors?

On our website. We also have a blog. It's updated regularly during our pre-opening days, then it will be Shanghaied by our authors. We can also be found on twitter and facebook.

Besides your website, where else will your books be available for purchase?

We'll be at the major distributors including Amazon, Barnes & Noble and the iBookstore.

Thanks, Celia, for coming out. With your acumen and talent, I know you'll have a huge success with Summerhouse Publishing.

I'll be back tomorrow with a new Tuesday Teaser. Until then...

Happy Reading.

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-11T06:04:00.000-08:00

ABIGAIL COTTAGE

Our guest author, Margaret West, is an awesome romance and paranormal writer. Born in England, Margaret and her family moved to the Kent countryside five years ago to get away from the busy life in London. She has worked in various fields and is a Clair-knowing medium, Crystal Therapist, Parapsychologist and Psychic development tutor.

Margaret has been writing over 20 years and has numerous short stories, novels and articles published. She incorporates her spiritual experiences into her novels with thrilling results. ABIGAIL COTTAGE is a perfect example of her excellent talent.

ABIGAIL COTTAGE
Margaret West
ISBN 978-1-9079-6305-6
Hedge-Witchery Books

BUY LINKS:
Hedge-Witchery Books
Amazon
Amazon UK

BLURB:
After receiving an inheritance of a cottage in Ireland and discovering she is adopted, Abbey Newlands goes in search of her real family. But before she arrives at the cottage, a chain of events and a whirlwind romance leaves her deeply in love with Shaun O'Donnell.

When Shaun's mother, Aveline, reveals a dark twist of fate that means they can never be together, Abbey flees to the cottage alone, pregnant and unaware that it is cursed by two demons who reside there. One who will love her, and one who wants her dead.

Only Shaun has the power to save them both and lock the demons away behind Hell's door.

EXCERPT:
Abbey moved her hand and touched the ground. A cold breeze ran its icy fingers Along her body and she felt her flesh recoil. “What’s happening?”

She turned her head and saw the cottage outlined in the darkness. A deeper reasoning told her he was dreaming, yet fear warped any logic. She stared, trying to see through the veil of darkness. No one was there, yet the hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention and told her otherwise. Panic made her heart beat uncomfortably and she placed her hand on her chest to calm the rhythmic ache.

Abbey got to her feet. She felt wobbly, unsure why she couldn’t run to the cottage. Fear nagged her like an irritating itch, but the more she hurried the further away it became. The freezing wind whipped by. It was strong, pushing her back, away from safety – away from her home. Huge trees whipped down their branches, slicing the air above her head as though trying to spear her flesh. She screamed when one snagged her hair and tore a piece from her scalp. Abbey ran until her lungs felt they would explode with pressure. Her legs grew heavy, as though she were carrying a great weight. She stopped, gasping for breath. It was then she saw her grotesquely distended stomach. A sharp stab of fiery pain, spread across it.

“Shaun, help me,” she screamed into the darkness.

The pain came in waves, with little retribution, until her legs buckled and the ground came up to meet her with a sickening thud. Abbey winced as her body jarred against its firmness. When she saw shadowy figures moving towards her, she almost cried with relief.

“Please - someone help me.”

“You have the cheek to ask for help with that abomination you carry,” a woman’s voice replied.

“Why I heard tell it’s spawned from your brother’s seed!” A man shouted.

Abbey’s mouth dried out with terror. How did they know?

“It’s my child,” she argued. “You’ve no right to condemn me.” She forced herself to sit upright and held her head rigid in defiance. “Do you hear me, this is MY baby.”

When something warm trickled between her legs, Abbey looked down at the spreading puddle. Another contraction robbed her of coherent thought and she followed a primeval urge to push. This child was arriving, whether it was convenient or not.

“You’ve committed the worst sin of all,” a man’s voice condemned.

Abbey knew that she had to get inside the cottage. Once she was there her child would be safe.

“Please, help me get home,” she begged. When she felt a light touch on her arm, she turned. A grateful smile teetered on the edge of her lips until she saw the furious emerald eyes of her saviour.

BUY LINKS:
Hedge-Witchery Books
Amazon
Amazon UK

Learn more about Margaret West on her website and blog. She also has an informative blog Connecting With Spirit you'll enjoy.

Have a great weekend. I'll be back Monday with information on an innovative company, Summerhouse Publishing, and its energetic owner, Celia Kyle.

Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-09T07:22:00.001-08:00

TRICKS

The incomparable Rick R. Reed is here with a book filled with passion and suspense. TRICKS is a step away from the horror Rick usually writes, but this magical novel is engrossing and guaranteed to satisfy.

TRICKS
Rick R. Reed
ISBN-13: 978-1-60820-214-0 Paperback
 ISBN-13: 978-1-60820-215-7 Electronic
MLR Press

BUY LINK Paperback
BUY LINK E-book

BLURB:
Tricks can mean many things: sex partners, deceptions, even magic. In Rick R. Reed’s searing love story, it means all three. Arliss is a gorgeous young dancer at Tricks, the hottest club in Chicago’s Boystown. Sean is the classic nerd, out of place in Tricks, but nursing his wounds from a recent break-up.

When the two spy each other, magic blooms.

But this opposites-attract tale does not run smooth. What happens when Arliss is approached by one of the biggest porn producers in the business? Can he make his dreams of stardom come true without throwing away the only real love he’s ever known? And will this question even matter if the mysterious producers realize their dark intentions?

EXCERPT:
Arliss had everything he needed right in front of him for that night's performance-hardhat, check, steel-toed boots, check, tool belt, check, black mesh thong with pouch for his rather prodigious endowment, big check. Yes, Arliss was just about ready for his turn on the stage at Tricks, located in Chicago's infamous Boystown neighborhood, at its epicenter on the corner of Belmont and Halsted. He also had before him a tall tumbler of Stoli vodka with just a whisper of cranberry juice cocktail in it for color, and a half-empty pack of Marlboro Ultralights. The latter two items helped the twenty-one-year-old calm himself before a performance, and the vodka in particular went a long way toward reducing backstage jitters.

He lit up a cigarette and regarded himself through the smoke. The lights in the crowded dressing room, which he shared with the other eight or so exotic dancers, were unforgiving. Fluorescent did little to hide any imperfections like rings under the eyes, reddened noses from too much partying, and, for those on their way out of the club, track marks on the arms. But Arliss didn't have to worry about signs of drug abuse showing up on his person. He had learned to just say no a long time ago, in a manner that he preferred not to dredge up, at least not now, when he was trying to put himself in a cheerful, high-energy mode.

Cigarette clenched between his teeth, he struggled into his costume, ending by stuffing his dick into the pouch that protruded from his black thong. His member stuck out in such a way that invited grasping hands, which is what Arliss wanted, as long as there was cash in those hands to stuff the thong even more fully.

Attired in a costume that would make the construction worker from the Village People look demure, Arliss turned in front of the mirror to ensure he was the perfect fantasy specimen of pornographic machismo. He was grateful he had added the angel wing tattoo to his back and the snakes that twisted around each bicep. And the one on his chest, the tiny heart with the name "Helena" in it, always brought a lump to his throat-or a splash of bile to the back of it, depending on his mood and how forgiving he felt.

He set the cigarette down in a tin ashtray and took a swig of vodka. He could feel as much as hear the heavy bass of the techno music playing in the bar and knew that Antonio, a Puerto Rican dude with a shaved head and heavy stubble, was probably just about finished with his set, which meant his boxing ensemble cluttered the small stage.

Arliss would come out, dance briefly and flirtatiously with Antonio, and then have the stage to himself. He didn't know how he did it, night after night, but somehow he managed. He had always been the shyest boy in Ruskin, Florida, where he had grown up. If they could see me now... Well, if they could see me now, they'd probably still call me a fag and try to beat the crap out of me. Once again, my dear, now is not the time for sentimentality. He took another swig of vodka, draining the glass and feeling the warmth of the liquor as it spread through his chest and extremities. Show time!

Arliss hurried to the door that separated the cramped dressing room from the bar proper. Tricks didn't really have a stage, although the dancers liked to think of the bar upon which they danced as one. It was Friday night and, from the burble of conversation beneath the pounding beat, sounded as though they had a good crowd. He sucked in a breath, looked down at his perfectly smooth pale skin and six-pack abs and told himself he was gorgeous.

"Don't forget to smile, Toots! You always look like some gloomy Gus out there!" Leave it to Emmett Myers, owner of Tricks, to try and unsettle him just before he went on stage.

Arliss flashed the man a big, Farrah Fawcett smile. If the prissy older man with the pencil moustache recognized it as fake, he gave no indication.

"There! That's what they like to see! For heaven's sakes, you have to remember that if they think you're having a good time, they'll have a good time. And a good time means more money for all of us."

Arliss listened as the song wound down, morphing into yet another bass beat that signaled him it was time to stride out through the door, amble across the crowded room, ignore the covert feels and pinches he got as he made his way to the bar, and climb up on it to join Antonio in front of the crowd.

"Get out there, gorgeous! Shake your groove thing!" Emmett cackled and placed a hand on Arliss' back to propel him forward. Just as much to get the hand off his back as to get to the stage, Arliss threw open the door, plastered on a big smile, threw his shoulders back and strode through the crowd, keeping his eye on the narrow strip of bar that would, for the next fifteen minutes, be his stage.

* * *

Sean didn't know what he was doing in Tricks. It was the kind of bar he never frequented. Hell, he rarely frequented any bars. He felt out of place among these older men, all of them leering at the strippers. He supposed he couldn't fault these men for coming here. The strippers, after all, were the bar's reason for being-providing "adult" entertainment...and to charge outrageously high prices for watered down cocktails.

I mean, really, eight dollars for a vodka and tonic? And the vodka wasn't even a call brand! Sean peered into the clear liquid, with its bubbles, slice of lime, and more than generous helping of ice cubes, and wondered again what could have possessed him to set foot inside this place. Tricks was a sleazy bar, a destination where he was certain the boys on stage probably made offstage deals with the clientele for more intimate, and less legal, behavior. It was the kind of place he and his friends once made fun of, painting the characters who frequented it with terms like "desperate" and "lecherous."

So what was he doing here? On a Friday night, no less, when other gay men his own age, thirty something, were on the prowl in countless other places on Halsted and further north, in the newer crop of bars in the neighborhood known as Andersonville.

He shook his head, knowing exactly what had brought him here. He stared morosely into his drink, the men around him hooting and catcalling as the next dancer hoisted himself up on the bar to begin his routine. The boy (to call him a man, really, would have been a stretch) was what was known in gay parlance as a twink. He barely looked old enough to drink, let alone wag his weenie at the patrons to a Lady GaGa beat. Was this kid really of legal age? Really? Sure, he had the requisite tattoos and piercings of a professional wrestler, and his smooth, almost hairless body was firm and well-defined, but Sean had to wonder what would compel someone so young to make his living in a way Sean had always thought of as demeaning.

And if what the kid's selling is demeaning, what does that make you?

He knew he should just get up from the bar stool on legs that were still steady and head home to his apartment and his live-in lover-an overweight black and white cat named Bergamot who was always willing to pay attention to him when no one else seemed up to the task. He shook his head, imagining his lonely evening eating a Lean Cuisine, watching recorded episodes of Glee.

It was enough to make him stay put and, for something to do, he turned his gaze to the boy on the bar, who was moving his hips suggestively, trying to make eye contact with everyone in the room all at once, and grinning like he was having the best time a boy could have this side of having an orgasm..

The boy was beautiful, in his own sordid, runaway sort of manner. His eyes were a piercing blue that somehow, when focused on Sean for the briefest of moments, made him feel he was the only guy in the room. But there was something otherworldly about him too, almost a glow, something that went far beyond his vitality and youth. It was as though he were performing to some inner music, something lurid and sexual.

Sean wondered what the kid thought about as he went through the motions of what could only loosely be defined as dancing. Did he really like being here? Why had he chosen this life over something with a more promising future, like college or some sort of employment that didn't involve shedding his clothes? Did he do it out of desperation? Was he on drugs?

Or was it that he was using to his best advantage what he had to work with? Sean had to admit-and the little man down below, the one between his legs, raised his purple head to agree-that the boy was sexy, extremely so. He had about him something that was at once alluring and needy: you wanted to take this boy in your arms and comfort him; you also wanted to fuck the shit out of him and slap his ass and whisper foul nothings in his ear as you thrust into him. Sean squirmed as his little man lengthened and thickened to his full size, which was actually about six and a half inches, and not the eight he claimed in various online profiles.

The boy shed the tool belt he wore, letting it drop to the bar's surface with a thud, then the hard hat, finally swaying in nothing more than a black mesh thong and steel-toed boots. His legs were long, lean, and well-muscled, and like every other letch in the bar, Sean could not keep his eyes off the boy's member, which bounced around in front of him like a mini baseball bat, looking absurd and breathtakingly tantalizing at the same time. Sean didn't know whether to laugh or just open his mouth and drool. How big was that thing, anyway? This boy, Sean was sure, would not have to lie about having eight inches. From the basis of the flaccid member barely concealed, the boy could honestly claim all that...and maybe even more.

Sean felt heat rise to his face as he gulped at his drink, finding the tall glass contained only ice. Where was that bartender?
And now the boy was moving along the bar, smiling and squatting down with those same magnificent legs spread, exhorting the bar revelers to stuff his thong with dollar bills.

He had no shortage of takers. The bills were testing the elastic of the thong's waistband and a few errant bills would slip to the stage; the boy discreetly snatched them up and held them in his hand as he made his way down this lascivious receiving line, letting the patrons dip their hands inside the thong to ensure that what he had on display was real. Sean assumed it was-no way to fake that. He also let them pat his ass, running their hands over its smooth contours. When Sean watched one guy wet his finger and slip it inside the boy's butt…

BUY LINK Paperback
BUY LINK E-book

Learn more about Rick R. Reed on his website or at his blog. You can also catch Rick on Twitter and Facebook.

I'll be back Friday. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-08T05:31:00.000-08:00

TUESDAY TEASER

Time to take the edge off this winter freeze with an excerpt from book three in my series the Magnificent Men of Munich.

FRANCINE ON FIRE
Sloane Taylor
ISBN 978-1-60168-060-0
Aspen Mountain Press

BUY LINK

BLURB:
Francine Daniels doesn’t trust men. Not since two husbands and a con artist ruined her life. After years of struggle – during which she took back control and soared to new heights – there is no place in her plans for a German hottie…Even if she does burst into flames at his touch.

Heicke Brewer already made one disastrous trip down the aisle, and never plans to go that route again. He prefers the parade of international beauties lined up outside his bedroom door to enjoy his ‘satisfaction guaranteed’ reputation…Until he meets an American pixie too hot not to handle.

Francine is working a golf outing when nature decides to step in.

EXCERPT:
Francie swiped a hand across her shoulder, hoping her over exuberant co-worker had splashed water and not that a bird had decided her new shirt looked good as a sweet dump site. Dammit, another drop landed on her forearm.

“Gretchen, be more…” She spun around to see the blonde bombshell in deep conversation with a gorgeous golfer that included more body contact than a good lap dance. If they weren’t careful, the entire course would see them humping like dogs in heat.

A quick glance at the sky showed thick black clouds heading toward the golf course, but it was the streaks of dark green reaching the treetops that startled her.

“Hey, Gretchen. Stud Muffin. We need to get all this stuff on the cart.” She dropped the plastic liquor bottles into their cases and brushed the rain from her eyelashes. The few drops had exploded into a full blown downpour. Pissed at the lack of help, Francie turned just as a crack of thunder split the air and she saw a blonde ponytail bouncing as the golf cart sped down the asphalt path.

“You rotten little bitch,” she shouted, but screaming and waving her fist did little to ease her anger.

The sky blazed with jagged arcs of lightning as they streaked upward from the ground. She clamped her hands over her ears as the double explosion of thunder rattled her teeth. Making a snap decision that she could make better time darting to the clubhouse barefooted, Francie yanked off her squishy walking shoes then scooped up the flimsy cashbox and groaned as the sodden mess dissolved in her hands. Coins spilled onto the mushy grass as the notes spun into a whirlpool. Her hands flew as she racked up the currency, stuffing it into the shallow pockets of her capris. She yanked at the soaked shirt clinging to her skin, and decided she had no other choice. A shiver ran down her spine as she slid the heavy euro coins into her bra. The damned things weighed a ton and froze her nipples into tight buds. She turned to sprint down the lane and careened into an oncoming golf cart.

“Shit.” Her knee hurt like hell, but she didn’t have time to worry about it as another bolt of lightning ripped a heavy branch off the tree a few feet away.

“Get in.” A booming voice wiped away her panic. She jumped into the cart, clutching her breasts as the money tumbled to the ground. “Do not worry about them. We will return after the storm, but right now we must get to shelter.”

She nodded in relief, swiping raindrops from her face and glanced into the sexy eyes of the hotel handyman. Of all the asinine times to worry about looks, she thought as she maneuvered her fingertips in a sorry attempt at spiking her hair into its familiar style.

“There is a shelter around this next curve.” He shot a quick glance her way, careful to keep the cart on the narrow lane.

“I can’t believe how the temperature dropped so fast.”

“It is always that way in Germany. Cold in one minute.” His eyes smoldered as he stared at her mouth and she shivered, heat coiling in her belly. “But I have hopes it will warm up soon.”

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I'll be back Wednesday with Rick R. Reed. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-04T06:18:00.001-08:00

SCOTLAND WITH A BITE

If you like vampires, along with hot males in kilts, you're going to love SEDUCING SCOTS, the latest release from multi-published Marie Treanor.

Here's a little to warm you on this cold February day.

SEDUCING SCOTS
Marie Treanor
ISBN: 9781419962363
Ellora's Cave

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BLURB:
You're not meant to fall for the bad guy, are you? Not the vampire, nor the possessed, nor the ex-con...

Reluctant Scottish psychic Jenny discovers her true talent is hunting vampires. Yet when that vampire is the evil, sexy gorgeous Karoly, in his quite inappropriate antique kilt, will she be able to fulfill her potential?

Ellie is a strong psychic with a messy personal life. When she decides to clean up the latter, the last person she needs to encounter is carefree Scottish busker Chris, the best ever one night stand from her naughty past. Especially when something evil within him threatens them both.

When the vampiress Draguta, Karoly’s ex, comes to the Scottish Highlands with a social mission, she’s distracted by local pub landlord, Al MacNab – a large, sexy man with a dubious past, a lot of secrets, and some alluring bondage gadgetry in his cellar.

EXCERPT:
“Well? What do you eat, little vampire hunter?”

Vampire hunter? Who did he think I was? Buffy? Right now I would have given much for just one of the Slayer’s powerful kicks. Even the ability to shuffle one foot would have been good. Still, at least I managed to gather my wildly confused wits enough to demand, “Did you hurt Maggie?”

“Who is Maggie?” he asked without much interest. His gaze had fallen to my throat again. One thin, pale hand lifted, two long, finely tapering fingers brushed the skin of my neck. I gasped. Though neither warm nor cold, they didn’t feel remotely neutral. Electricity sparked, tingling through me, and more worrying than anything, it wasn’t even unpleasant. The opposite, in fact.

“The bride!” I gasped. “She just left.”

“Poultry and cheap red wine,” he said disparagingly, without looking up from my neck. His fingers stroked my skin and those sparks were getting worse, shooting right through my whole body, creating some half-understood but overwhelming desire that was only mostly to do with sex.

“You did bite her!” I accused, trying to distract him before I became totally lost in what he was doing to my throat.

“Of course I did,” he chided. “I’m a vampire.”

His fingers slid around to the back of my neck and closed. I gasped again, involuntarily twisting my head. I prayed he would mistake my reaction for fear, but the truth was his touch gave me some fearful pleasure I had never encountered before, triggering new desires that were almost scarier than him.

Suddenly, every inch of me was aware of his tall, strong body. Backed into the table as I was, I couldn’t have moved if I’d tried and now I didn’t want to. I wanted him to touch me more. And the knowledge that it was wicked and forbidden and dangerous only added to the excitement. He hadn’t killed Maggie or Davie, after all, and he must have known that even if I recognized him for what he was, I was no threat. I wondered, with trembling anticipation, what his bite would feel like.

His fingers caressed the back of my neck. Without warning, his body came to rest against mine. This time there was warmth—or perhaps it was just my own flushed body heating his—and something hard, his sporran, pushed sweetly against my crotch. I realized I was moist down there, growing wetter and hotter by the instant. A small sound like a moan escaped my lips. My nipples felt painfully tight and hard against his chest and I wished very badly that I’d been laid in the last few months so that I didn’t disintegrate so quickly into this gibbering glob of desire for someone—something—so evil that even I had felt it across a crowded room.

But the truth was, I wished vampires fucked and I wished very badly that this one would fuck me quickly, here and now.

Involuntarily, my hips pressed forward into his and I saw him smile as he bent his head. Something flashed in his eyes just as they passed out of my view. His fingers gripped my nape more firmly, his other arm suddenly swept around my back to hold me to him and I closed my eyes, letting the wild sensations of pleasure and desire wash over me, fill me.

I felt his lips on my neck, silky smooth. My head fell back against his arm, my mouth opened with a soundless cry of want and anticipation. My hands clutched his biceps, clinging to the hard, muscled flesh for support. His lips felt so good, teasing, sensuously sucking, that I wanted them everywhere on me. His tongue flickered across my skin, tasting, and it was so wonderful, sending such delicious shivers of pleasure through my whole body that I would happily have died just to feel it again. But I wanted more, I wanted his teeth, which I would surely feel, any moment. I wondered if it would hurt, what sort of weird, perverse joy it would give my suddenly depraved body…

But his lips were still. I could hear my heart pounding. My fingers gripped convulsively on his arms, waiting. But he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes were so dark they looked black, almost opaque save for those flashing flecks of gold as they stared down into mine. Bewildered, stupid with unsatisfied hunger, I stared back.

He said, “Do you know, I drank from a homeless man when I first came here and I was out cold for three nights?”

I drew in my breath, hearing it shudder.

“What is it with me?” I demanded. “Why do men only want to talk?”

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Remember, you can find out more about Marie Treanor and her engrossing books on her website. Catch all her latest news on Facebook or subscribe to her Newsletter. Be sure to join the party on her new blog: Marie Treanor’s Romantic Theme Party.

I'll be back Monday with a review on the awesome hit musical Million Dollar Quartet. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-03T07:26:00.000-08:00

HOT VAMPIRES FOR A COLD DAY

Our guest author today is the incredibly talented Marie Treanor who lives in Scotland with her eccentric husband and three much-too-smart children. After the family grew bored with city life, they moved to a picturesque village by the sea where Marie is lucky enough to enjoy herself avoiding housework and writing sensual stories of paranormal romance and fantasy much to this fan's delight.

Please allow me to give you an example of this superb author.

BLOOD ON SILK
An AWAKENED BY BLOOD Novel
Marie Treanor
ISBN: 978-0451231567 Paperback
NAL - Signet Eclipse

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Temptation begins at sunset…

BLURB:
Scottish academic Elizabeth Silk is spending the summer in Romania researching historical superstitions for her PhD. While she is tracing local folktales, one subject in particular sparks her imagination. His name is Saloman, legend's most powerful vampire, a seductive prince staked centuries ago. Now, in the ruins of a castle crypt, Elizabeth discovers the legends are real. Her blood has awakened him. Her innocence has aroused him. But Elizabeth unleashes more than Saloman's hunger.

An army of vampire hunters has amassed to send Saloman back to hell. Sworn to help - yet fearing Saloman's deadly blood lust - Elizabeth seeks to entrap him, offering her body as bait. But something stronger than dread, more powerful than revenge, is uniting Elizabeth to her prey. Caught between desire and rage, Elizabeth must decide where her loyalties lie...and what the limits are to a yearning she can no longer control.

EXCERPT:
There was nowhere to go but backward, until the wall ground into her shoulder blades and buttocks, and still he kept coming. Tall and broad-shouldered as he was, his very size threatened her. Most of his handsome face was in shadow, hiding any expression. She could make out only his eyes, blacker than the surrounding darkness, yet glistening with some deep, wild hunger it hurt to look at.

He lifted his hand once more to the wound in her throat. His fingertip was cold, yet seemed to burn her skin. She gasped, quivering, and when he bent his head toward her again, gazing at her bleeding injury, she began to fight, crashing her fists into his chest, pushing uselessly against his shoulders.

He smelled of earth and cold stone, gave off no sense of human warmth. So why did her body begin to weaken its resistance? Her fists, her struggles, made no impression on him. He continued to lower his head to her wounded neck. At least she could no longer see those terrible eyes…

At the first touch of his lips, she gave up: she could do nothing against him and some dark, perverse part of her remembered the unique, agonizing thrill of his first bite.

But he didn’t bite. He surrounded the wound with his lips and licked it once. She shuddered, helpless in the grip of fear and something she couldn’t – or wouldn’t – name. Then he lifted his head and she stared at him, speechless, because the pain had gone.

The hunger hadn’t left his eyes, but in the glimmer of torchlight, she thought it was overlaid with mockery. The bastard was laughing at her.

“I’m saving the rest for later,” he explained.

Her eyes widened. He was letting her live after all? At least for another minute. “L-later?” she stammered.

His fingers trailed across her throat, butterfly light, making her gasp. “Later. Your blood is strong and heady. I’m taking time to absorb it.” He bent nearer her, inhaling, almost sniffing the air around her head and throat. The skin of his face looked so smooth she had an insane urge to reach up and touch it. His sculpted lips moved faintly, as if a smile almost danced across them, never quite forming before it faded.

“Interesting,” he observed, and his voice was different now, quiet, almost whispering, with just a hint of hoarseness. “I have to thank you for waking me…What is your name?”

She swallowed. “Elizabeth. Elizabeth Silk.”

The almost smile tugged at his lips and vanished. His cheek brushed against hers, barely touching, yet her stomach seemed to plunge. “Silk. How apt,” he murmured. “Like your hair…and your skin, so soft and warm…”

His fingertips caressed her face, then slid down over her chin to her throat and she gasped, jerking in panic. But the movement only brought her into contact with his body. He was hard and solid, and surely that stiff ridge against her stomach was his erection… Vampires had erections? Unless that part of him was still made of stone?

Oh Jesus Christ and fuck!

She shrank, pressing her back into the wall once more. Shocked, she could feel wetness between her legs. It’s just fear, not lust, it can’t be…

“And you are English,” he said, changing to that language without warning.

“Scottish,” she returned mechanically. What the hell does that matter?

He inclined his head, clearly humoring her. His body touched hers at breast and hips, hardening her nipples into aching peaks. Perhaps he felt them, for he said, “Do you know how long it has been since I have had a meal or a woman?”

Her stomach seemed to melt into her womb. Sweat had broken out on her palms and was trickling down between her breasts. But somehow she managed to do the math. “Three hundred and twelve years?”

His gaze dropped to her lips. “Don’t ask me. After the first couple of centuries, those decades just fly by.” He lifted his hand from her neck, tracing one tapered fingertip along her lower lip. She was afraid to move.

“Do they really?” she managed.

“No. But they let me work up some heady appetites.”

“For what?” She sounded more suspicious than terrified. Was that good? Perhaps. The almost-smile reappeared and vanished as his face leaned nearer hers.

“For dinner,” he answered. “And dalliance.”

His finger slid to the corner of her lips, pushing gently until she gasped, and when her mouth opened he took it with his.

Heat consumed her, drowning her in some strange, welcome weakness. His cool lips moved across hers, sampling, parting them. He should have tasted of dust and death and corruption. At the very least he hadn’t brushed his teeth in three hundred and twelve years. Yet what she inhaled in panic was something overwhelmingly seductive, an earthy sweetness, powerful and masculine, and God help her, she wanted it. She wanted to give herself to his mouth, feel his kiss deepen and dominate while he pressed that large, hard body closer into her. She wanted to push herself against the hardness nudging her abdomen. She wanted it between her legs, pushing into her, because she’d never known a kiss as arousing as this, and the sex would be so…

Oh God!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can find out more about Marie Treanor and her engrossing books on her website. Catch all her latest news on Facebook or subscribe to her Newsletter. Be sure to join the party on her new blog: Marie Treanor's Romantic Theme Party.

I'll be back tomorrow with a new release from the spellbinding Marie Treanor. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-02-01T06:59:00.000-08:00

LET THE GAME BEGIN!

With all the cold and snow, it seems a hot game of strip checkers is in order. :)

LONNIE HEATS UP
ISBN 978-1-60168-155-3
Aspen Mountain Press

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BLURB:
Lost in the Austrian Alps, psychologist Lonnie Copley is forced to accept help from a Hell’s Angel wannabe. She never expected to be trapped with the Aryan god in deserted Castle Flophouse.

Disgusted with cleaning up his client’s dirty lives, attorney Wolfe Deider is in major career throes. He doesn’t need some insolent woman mucking up his mind, even if she does have a mouth made for kissing.

EXCERPT:
He shoved a red circle onto the appropriate square. She concentrated for a moment then moved her black disk onto the square that forced him to conquer her. He considered the consequences and decided she was just as eager as him to get into bed.

“I believe you lose your first disk, Eleanor.” His dick was tingling as she frowned.

“Guess so.” She kicked off a boot. Grinning, she lifted a black checker and slowly jumped his disk then glanced up. “Not just yet, Herr Deider. You see? I have another move.” She swooped up the next disk.

Both of his shoes clomped to the floor. Apparently she was not as easy as he thought.

He leaned across the board, his elbows propped on the table. A strategy was mandatory if he wanted the outcome in his favor. Looking her in the eyes, he slid a disk on the diagonal keeping his finger on top of it.

She glanced down, a slow smile tweaking her lips, and raised her hand as if to play.

“Not just yet, Eleanor.” He slid the red circle back onto its original square. “I think this is a better move,” he said as he crossed jumped two of her disks.

She never flinched. Her other shoe hit the floor, followed by a sock.

“You are a good sport.” He raised his glass in a salute. “If not my best opponent.”

“And you may live to regret those words, mister.”

Another play on her part and he pulled off both of his socks.

He moved, she snorted, and flung her other sock into the air.

She made an outstanding move he never suspected. His shirt flew onto a side chair.

With a grin he glanced up. The doctor did not look as if she were enjoying herself. Her wine left untouched. Perhaps she will enjoy herself later, he thought as he conquered another checker.

She grabbed her sweater at the hem. Slowly peeled it up her body and over her head then tossed it onto the floor. Her low cut purple bra barely covered her puckered nipples. And his dick stood at attention.

His hands shook as he lifted another red disk over her black one.

She slid back the chair then stood. Her graceful fingers worked the button free. The rasp of her zipper was the only sound in the room. Wolfe held his breath as she wiggled the pants past her curvy hips. She glanced at him over her shoulder with the look of a woman who knew what she wanted. Her hands glided over her sleek ass, guiding the material down her long, toned legs. She bent over to pull them off and he almost came at the sight of her ass cheeks gripping a purple thong.

With the next move his stack of black disks grew taller and his balls ached.

In a quick motion, she swiped a strand of hair from her face. Gracefully she reached behind with both of her hands to unhook her bra. Her shoulders stretched back and her breasts thrust forward. And his cock throbbed.

With one arm under her bra, she brought the other across, hiding his view of those beautiful more-than-a-mouthful tits, and slid down the strap. She changed the position of her arms and peeled down the other satin strip. The bra fell into her lap and he clenched the table. Her rosy nipples were right there, budded, and inviting the touch of his hands and lips until she screamed his name in her orgasm.

He did not care how he lost the game. He would throw it if he could just get off his damned jeans and give his cock some room. No matter what move he made she did not fall into his trap of jumping him.

His cock swelled larger, the pain intense but sweet, as he added her last disk to his pile.

She stood, her breasts bobbing from the movement and his mouth watered. If he did not slip inside her hot pussy soon, he would come in his pants.

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I'll be back tomorrow with author Marie Treanor. Be sure to stop in. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-28T05:32:00.001-08:00

Rick R. Reed Does It Again

By creating another fantastic book, DIGNITY TAKES A HOLIDAY, which is sure to be a best seller. No surprise there since the writing world has only high praise for today's guest author Rick R. Reed. With my limited space, I can only share two;

In their October 2006 issue, Unzipped magazine said:
"You could call Rick R. Reed the Stephen King of gay horror."

And Dark Scribe magazine proclaimed:
"Reed is an established brand - perhaps the most reliable contemporary author for thrillers that cross over between the gay fiction market and speculative fiction."

In spite of this—or perhaps because of it—Rick has been lately turning more and more to writing romance and illuminating the emotional lives of gay men.

To date, Reed has more than sixteen books in print, and his short fiction has appeared in more than 20 anthologies. His novel, ORIENTATION, won the EPPIE Award for best LGBT novel of 2008.

Rick lives in Seattle, WA with his partner and a very spoiled Boston Terrier. Visit Rick on his website to see all his wonderful work.

Here's a glimpse of his latest release.

DIGNITY TAKES A HOLIDAY
Rick R. Reed
ISBN-13: 978-1-61581-721-4 (Paperback) 
ISBN-13: 978-1-61581-722-1 (Electronic)
Dreamspinner Press

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BLURB:
Pete Thickwhistle doesn’t live what one might call a charmed life. At age forty-seven, he’s a flamboyant gay man who believes no one knows he’s gay, still living at home with his harpy of a mother. Worse, he’s still a virgin, longing to find just the right man to make his life complete. Pete’s an upbeat kind of guy, yet he’s never learned that the answer to his motto “What could possibly go wrong?” is always: “Everything.”

Pete’s road to love and happiness is full of potholes, yet he never tires of searching, despite job losses, weight battles, clothing faux pas, and disastrous vacations, parties, and dating debacles. Pete is the ultimate underdog living a television situation comedy, one named Dignity Takes a Holiday.

EXCERPT
The Beginning of the End

“You’re not bringing that, are you? My God, they’ll laugh you out of town.” Helen snickered and pointed at Pete’s open suitcase.

Pete gnawed on a hangnail, staring down at the chalk stripe suit he had just purchased from the International Male catalog. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Other than it looking like one of those zoot suits they used to wear back when I was a little girl… nothing, I guess.”

Pete made a “tsk” sound and shook his head. “You have no fashion sense. If you did, you’d know this is retro, it’s very in. This is how all the guys in Chicago dress.”

“And what about this?” Helen snatched up a black sweater with a gold glitter owl emblazoned across the front. “Retro?”

“Oh, would you just shut up and let me get packed? I have a lot to do, and I don’t need you in here questioning my fashion choices. I’m nervous enough as it is!” Pete put a trembling hand to his forehead.

Helen hurried from the room. Pete wondered why he couldn’t have a mother like other men, someone they called their “best friend” rather than their “worst nightmare.”

But this mystery would have to wait for further pondering. Pittsburgh International Airport was more than an hour away, and Pete would have to “get his ass jumpin’” (as Helen would have so delicately put it) if he wanted to make his flight.

Pete allowed himself to sit down on his bed, closing his eyes and imagining the upcoming trip for a moment. Chicago… Pete pictured towering skyscrapers rising up against a vast expanse of blue waters and thought that his destiny could be made on this trip.

After all, he wondered, as he had so often in the past, what could possibly go wrong?

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Learn more about Rick R. Reed on his Blog and catch up with him on Facebook and Twitter.

Have a wonderful weekend. I'll be back Monday with a new book review. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-27T06:46:00.000-08:00

WE HAVE WINNERS

I run an easy contest in my quarterly newsletter with two winners, offering free downloads as the prize. The last contest was to email me with CAMERA typed in the subject line for a chance to win a copy of PHOTO OP!.

And the winners were:

LISA ANDERSON
LISA AVILA

Here's a little about the book these happy people are now enjoying.

PHOTO OP!
ISBN 978-1-60168-139-3
Aspen Mountain Press

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BLURB:
Photojournalist Emily Peters is in Paris when the opportunity to expose an infamous sex club sets her on fire. She never expects to be tied up in knots by the Devil.

Restaurateur Nicholas Caine prefers an inconspicuous lifestyle, but when a sex goddess enters his lair there’s only one thing he can do…take her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To join in the fun and a chance to win, go to my website and click the Newsletter link in the sidebar.

I'll be back tomorrow with a new release from Rick R. Reed. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-26T05:27:00.000-08:00

THE ANGEL SINGERS

If it is possible to have a split personality without being schizophrenic, Dorien Grey qualifies. When long-time book and magazine editor Roger Margason chose the pseudonym “Dorien Grey” for his first book, it set off a chain of circumstances which has led to the comfortable division of labor and responsibility. Roger has charge of day-to-day existence, freeing Dorien—with the help of Roger’s fingers—to write. It has reached the point where Roger merely sits back and reads the stories Dorien brings forth on the computer screen.

One such intriguing book is The Angel Singers which you'll enjoy reading again and again.

THE ANGEL SINGERS
Book #12 of the Dick Hardesty Mystery Series
Dorien Grey
ISBN 978-1-934841-06-8
Zumaya Boundless

All Dorien Grey's novels are available in or on order from any bookstore or on-line from AMAZON.

BLURB:
Take a group of men who love to sing, a devoted director, a wealthy backer, a lot of individual talent, clashing egos, and an upcoming concert. Throw in the backer's "protege," a five-year-old boy, a harried private detective, and a car bomb and...welcome to the maze.

EXCERPT:
Over the course of the weeks, I got to know not only something of how a chorus was made up, but a few through-Jonathan’s-eyes glimpses into what went on behind the scenes.

The night of Jonathan’s first rehearsal Roger Rothenberger, the chorus’s director, had, as he did with all new members, assigned him a “Buddy,” to help ease his way into the organization; introduce him around, show him the ropes, and explain and answer questions on procedures. Jonathan’s Buddy was a kid named Eric Speers, and the two of them hit it off immediately. So when Jonathan suggested inviting Eric over for dinner, I readily agreed. I was curious to meet him, and figured it would give me a little better insight into this new part of Jonathan’s life. He had indicated that Eric had been with the chorus since it had begun five years previously, and was deeply devoted to and involved in it. He was also the peacemaker of the group, which was apparently, as are most groups, both tight-knit and contentious.

It was inevitable that whenever you get 50 or so artistic gay men together, the road was not without its bumpy stretches. There were the inevitable cliques, feuds, and rivalries that afflict any group of humans, and Jonathan always brought home a doggie bag of the latest bits of gossip he’d heard at rehearsals. I’ve never gone in much for gossip, but Jonathan got such a kick out of observing all the various behind-the-risers intrigues and took such delight in sharing them with me that I couldn’t complain. It was rather like watching one of those guilty-pleasure soap operas on TV, although the cast members of the chorus dramas were not all as drop-dead gorgeous as their on-screen counterparts. There were even a few hush-hush allusions to a conflict between Rothenberger and Crandall Booth, and to Booth’s alleged financial ties to some rather shady types. I didn’t give any weight to the latter, since I knew that Glen O’Banyon, the city’s preeminent gay lawyer, for whom I frequently did work, was also a member of the chorus’s board, and if there were any solid basis to the allegations, Glen would not be associated with Booth in any way.

Rothenberger, Jonathan had told me, had been born and raised here, then moved to New York and started singing with the New York City Gay Men’s Chorus and became an assistant director. He’d then gone on to direct one or two other groups before moving back here. In addition to the Gay Men’s Chorus, he also directed the choir at the M.C.C. I’d seen him at the chorus’s last concert—the one that had prompted Jonathan to want to join. Rothenberger had reminded me of an opera star; portly to the point of being rotund, full beard, somewhat imperious manner; in absolute control when it came to leading the chorus. Jonathan reported that Rothenberger’s mantra at every rehearsal and before every concert was: “Remember; when you talk, you’re human. When you sing, you’re angels,” and everyone in the chorus apparently thought the world of him.

The most recent tempest in the choral teapot was created by a member who joined not too long before Jonathan, and who happened to be Crandall Booth’s nephew. There’s nothing like a little nepotism to get things heated up, and the controversy was compounded by the nephew, Grant Jefferson, apparently being something of a pain in the ass. Jonathan, of course, always prefers to see the good in everyone, but even he found it a little difficult to find much positive to say about Grant. “He’s really good looking,” he conceded, “and he does have a nice voice,” which, coming from Jonathan, I took to be something of a case of damning with faint praise.

Possibly another reason why I allowed myself to be vicariously caught up on the goings on of the chorus was that my work, while fairly steady, had lately tended to be far less than the stuff of which detective novels are made. For the past two weeks or so I had been caught up in a “case”…if it could even be called that…so stupifyingly dull I’d have much preferred to watch paint dry. Suffice it to say it involved a client with more money than intelligence who was on a vendetta against a former business partner and wasn’t going to let a little thing like his case not having a leg to stand on get in his way. I finally gave up trying to convince him that he was wasting his money, and resigned myself to the conclusion that if he was going to throw his money away, he might as well throw some of it at me. So I spent an inordinate amount of time running off in whatever new direction he pointed me. I could and should have quit; however, my mantra was: “It isn’t the principle of the thing, it’s the money.”

All Dorien Grey's novels are available in or on order from any bookstore or on-line from AMAZON.

Learn more about Dorien Grey and his excellent books on his website and his blog. For further insight into this remarkable author, check out his photolife.

I'll be back tomorrow to announce the winners from my newsletter contest. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-25T06:30:00.000-08:00

TUESDAY TEASER

Here's a little teaser to help warm up your cold winter day. :)

TEDDI TURNS ON
Sloane Taylor
ISBN 978-1-60168-115-7
Aspen Mountain Press

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BLURB:
No one’s going to take advantage of Teddi Howard again, including the Munich tour operator who screwed her over when he reneged on their contract. Her only option is to face the little weasel.

Nothing stands in the way of the prominent, German businessman David Stiefle, especially a woman. No way is he ever getting involved, even if she is the sensual Mrs. Howard.

EXCERPT:
David Stiefel’s eyes kept track of the copper-haired female while he rolled up the sleeves of his striped shirt. The woman was oblivious to the stir she created as she strolled through the crowded O’Hare Airport Business Class Lounge. He stroked an index finger over his lips and studied her sleek figure in form fitting slacks. The appealing rear view was too good to miss. The pleasure of not seeing a panty line forced him to shift in his chair to adjust for the sudden pull in his jeans.

She bent over, hung her jacket across the chair back, and glanced over her shoulder at him. Their gaze held as a smile tweaked the corner of his mouth. He crumpled the wrappings from his beef sandwich and knew he’d just been offered dessert. Now all he had to do was make his move.

As his good luck would have it, right there on the floor, just a few meters away was an airline ticket dropped by some unsuspecting person. Ha, unsuspecting, his Aunt Hilda. He knew that delicious looking woman had done it as a ploy to meet him.

He stood and paced off the few steps, never taking his eyes from her. He stooped, scooped up the packet, and walked the few extra feet before he glanced at the name printed in bold marker across the front. When he held it toward her she fumbled with her purse and carry-on as if she didn’t know she’d lost such an important set of documents. Very cool.

Standing in front of her, he leaned down just enough to catch her scent. Shalimar. His favorite.

“Bitte, Frau, are you missing something?” He liked the way her eyes widened as if she were surprised. She was good.

“Thank you.” She reached out a slender hand. Thank God there wasn’t any of that garish nail art so many women seemed to prefer.

BUY LINK

I'll be back tomorrow with my good friend Dorien Grey. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-24T07:05:00.000-08:00

Great Food, Fun Atmosphere

Texas Roadhouse, with its cool western decor and music, has become a large chain restaurant, specializing in steaks. The man who started the popular company is Kent Taylor. The attentive manager told us, Mr. Taylor's goal was to create a restaurant serving top quality meats affordable to families. In our opinion, he more than achieved his goal.

Legally, I can't display an image of this award winning restaurant. Click here for the full effect along with locations and menus.

We've dined twice at Texas Roadhouse with our good friends Janine and Dennis, and support the restaurant's registered motto - Legendary Food, Legendary Service®. Mr. Taylor, along with his team, surpasses most family restaurants with their excellent made-from-scratch-for-each-order food.

I heartily recommend the fried pickles which are battered and deep fried pickle chips served with Ranch or Cajun Horseradish sauce for dipping. It's an unusual appetizer, but well-worth the experience.

The pork chops, rib-eye steaks, and prime rib are beyond belief for quality of meat and superb cooking. Prepared to perfection, the meats are solid and savory.

Our last visit was a disappointment as the service was less than stellar. Three female bartenders stood at the far side of the large horseshoe bar chatting away while a full contingent of customers signaled for refills on their adults beverages. The "Excuse me" and/or polite gestures did nothing to break up the ladies' important conversation or their laughter.

The kitchen runner brought out the food with no clue who got what and the order taker did not interrupt her chick chat to help him. After it was squared away, there we sat, yummy food waiting to tease our taste buds and not an eating utensil or napkin in sight.

I couldn't stand it any longer and finally waved until our bartender bothered to look in our direction. She acted surprised we'd want another drink or a fork to eat the now cold food.

Studs and I intend to go back to Texas Roadhouse in Dyer, Indiana, but we need a little time to forget this last experience.

I'll be back tomorrow with a Tuesday Teaser. Until then...

Happy Eating!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-21T05:46:00.000-08:00

ONCE UPON A SECRET

Christiane France, author of cool mysteries and hot romance, truly believes love makes the world go round, so she likes stories with both happy and bittersweet endings. Christiane has been writing romance for the past twenty years and lives in Canada, near Niagara Falls, with her husband and The Boys—two black and white Persian cats.

Here's a peek at Ms. France's latest release which I do believe you'll love.

ONCE UPON A SECRET
Christiane France
ISBN 13: 978-1-61124-016-0
Amber Quill Press - Amber Heat

BUY LINK

BLURB:
The last thing Luke Fiorelli wants to do, being a member of a close-knit immigrant family living in the Italian neighborhood of a small town, is embarrass or upset them by openly declaring his sexuality.

Moving to the big city isn’t an option for a couple of reasons: he owns a successful landscaping business, and his family wouldn’t understand him relocating on what they would interpret as a whim.

By convincing himself that his strait-laced father would kill him if he ever found out about Luke’s sexuality, and satisfying his needs with the occasional weekend trip out of town, Luke has never had a problem keeping that part of his life a deep, dark secret.

That is, until he meets handsome and openly gay Travis Barrington III. The attraction between the two men is strong and instantaneous, and suddenly Luke is scrambling to invent even more excuses to keep his secret.

Travis, however, knows all about secrets and the harm they can do, but can he convince Luke to accept that and step out into the light?

EXCERPT:
Luke Fiorelli watched Travis Barrington III across the makeshift desk in the construction site office, fascinated by the movement of the man’s nicely manicured hands as they sifted through the contents of a file. He swallowed hard, desperate to deny the shiver of awareness that heated his blood and sent his thoughts skittering in directions they had no business going.

He’d first met Travis a couple of months ago, at Barrington Properties’ corporate headquarters in downtown Rock Bay. Travis had personally taken delivery of Luke’s last-minute bid to landscape the grounds at what was to be the jewel in the Barrington crown, a new hotel on the coast a few miles north of town. Luke had hoped his bid would be successful, but he’d long ago learned not to expect miracles. Competition was stiff for plum commercial jobs like this and there were dozens of landscaping companies more experienced and better known than Fiorelli Exteriors.

However, in the split second it had taken for that envelope to change hands, something had passed between himself and Travis, and Luke had known for an absolute fact that the job would be his. He couldn’t explain how he’d known; he just had. Maybe it was what the experts labeled a moment, a flash of precognition that sometimes happened, or good old-fashioned e.s.p. Whatever it was, less than a week later, Travis had called to confirm Luke had indeed submitted the winning bid.

It had happened, it was over, but the incident still continued to bother Luke. He didn’t have moments or suffer from ESP. Even so, something must have triggered the sudden feeling of knowing the future, and he didn’t have much to choose from. There had been the initial, brief but all-encompassing eye contact with Travis that made Luke feel as if he’d been swallowed whole. Then the zap of electricity traveling up his arm as their fingers touched when Travis took possession of the package. Then again, maybe it had just been one of those weird, inexplicable things that happen but defy all rational explanation.

Whatever it was, from then on, any time Luke ran into Travis, he started feeling wary and off balance, like he was walking on eggs, or balancing on the edge of a cliff. And it didn’t help in between those times he couldn’t quit thinking about the man or having ridiculous dreams where the two of them were locked together in a passionate embrace.

Travis was handsome, rich, a real player by all accounts, and totally out of Luke’s league. The last person on earth Luke would want to hook up with, yet his fingers itched to touch his skin, to get naked with him. He wanted to run his fingers through the man’s long black hair and kiss his wide mouth. He wanted to taste him and—
Just then, Travis looked up, a faintly troubled look on his handsome face, giving Luke the craziest urge to just walk around the desk and solve whatever was bothering him with a reassuring hug. However, while Travis made no secret of the fact he was gay and proud of it, Luke was not. Hell, there were times when Luke wasn’t even sure what he was. Although that wasn’t exactly true. He’d done enough messing around, first in high school and later in college, to be very sure.

However, he’d grown up in a family with strong conservative values and strait-laced views on just about everything. He didn’t need to hear his dad’s views on homosexuality to know the way he and his friends thought. It was something decent people didn’t talk about, so telling his parents had been totally out of the question. As a result, Luke’s almost non-existent sex life was, of necessity, restricted to DIY and weekend trips out of town to somewhere like L.A., Vegas, or San Francisco.

If his secret ever got out… Luke shuddered inwardly at the very thought. His dad would kill him. Guaranteed.

BUY LINK

Learn more about Christiane France and her outstanding books on her website.

I'll be back Monday to share a restaurant review. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-20T08:22:00.001-08:00

Best of 2010 Reader Awards

I'm excited and honored to share Love Romances Cafe has announced their Best of 2010 Reader Awards nominees. Here's the beautiful nominee button.

Now take a gander at who made it!

Best Contemporary Book-2010

French Twist by Sloane Taylor (AMP)

Best Science Fiction/Futuristic Book-2010

Claire De Lune by Robert Appleton and Sloane Taylor (Amber Quill)

Best Book Cover

Claire De Lune by Robert Appleton and Sloane Taylor (Amber Quill)

Best Erotic Book

French Kiss by Sloane Taylor (AMP)

Congratulations to all the nominees!

I'll be back Friday with a new release from Christiane France. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-19T05:35:00.000-08:00

HAIL THE QUEEN

Jan Springer, the Queen of Hot, is back with a novel guaranteed to clench your thighs and make you want more. COLTER'S REVENGE Outlaw Lovers 3. Here, see for yourself.

COLTER'S REVENGE
Outlaw Lovers 3
Jan Springer
ISBN 9781419904912
Ellora’s Cave

Colter’s Revenge – Outlaw Lovers 3 is available in e-book and print from Ellora’s Cave.
Buy Link

In the near future, a virus has been unleashed killing a majority of the world's female population, forcing the introduction of the Claiming Law. A law that states men have all the rights and women are sexual property claimable by groups of men.

BLURB:
Revenge belongs to Dr. Colter Outlaw when he runs into the beautiful woman who broke his heart during the Terrorist Wars. Capturing her, collaring her and holding her against her will, he seduces her, fills her with wicked desires and cravings for a delicious ménage. Fully intent on breaking her heart and walking away, his plans unravel when he submits to the carnal pleasures Ashley gives him so freely…

He'd told her he loved her. Whispered promises of rescue from her life as a slave, then he'd disappeared. Infected with a version of the X-virus that leaves her sexually excited on a daily basis, Ashley Blakely has come to Pleasure Palace to bid on the cure. She never expected her Outlaw Lover to screw her plans. Nor did she expect to give him her heart and body so easily…

EXCERPT:
“I wish I could take your pretty little ass, Ashley. Wish I could have it again.”

Why don’t you take me? A voice somewhere deep in the back of her mind urged. Please take my ass. Please don’t sound as if you don’t ever want me again.

As her ass muscles began to relax beneath his soft yet insistent prodding, she found herself drifting away, relaxing, and focusing on the pleasure-pain sifting along deep inside her and the flames that continued to lick her freshly spanked ass cheeks.

All too soon the wondrous pleasure-pain disappeared and she opened her eyes to find the blackness of the blindfold staring back at her. She could hear him breathing, the sound fast and harsh. Aroused. Would he take her in the ass now? Would he put out the fire he’d started in her?

The sound of plastic came again. She found herself lifting her head, orienting herself to the noise.

“Settle down, Ashley. No need to be afraid.”

His voice soothed her, sucked her into a wall of security she loved. She didn’t even flinch when she felt a strange, cool item penetrate her ass. At first she thought it was a butt plug, but he didn’t insert it.
Just left it poised in her opening.

Involuntarily her butt muscles clenched around it, tried to suck it in, it wouldn’t come inside. Then she felt the pressure as Colter slid the item deeper. Her sphincter muscle constricted.

“There, that should hold you for a bit while I see what other little surprises I can give you.” She didn’t miss the amusement etching his voice.

The mattress shifted beneath her.

She could hear him walking toward the sex-toy cabinet and found herself wondering how she must look with her bare ass, all flushed and red, propped up on the pillow with whatever it was that was sticking out of her ass.

The cabinet door creaked open again.

“I could give your cute little ass a sound whipping. Before long you’ll be begging for it.”

Begging? What?

It was at that moment Ashley felt the slow burn between her buttocks. What in the world was it?

As if sensing her question he chuckled and spoke. “The juice of the root has the ability to create incredible horniness.”

Juice? Root?

Oh, God! What had he shoved into her ass?

Bucking her hips as much as she could against the restraints to get rid of the item, Ashley quickly discovered her movements only increased the burn, which was rapidly heading into a fire.

“How’s our ginger root doing?” He was closer now. Too close.

She cried out as his hands curved over her buttocks again. The instant he touched the root, fire consumed her anus. She shivered as a finger dipped downward and touched her clit.

An immediate burn began there as well. Made her clit swell. Made her pussy clench. Made her cry out.

“Please! It’s…burning me alive. Please help me…put…put out the fire.”

“You’ll have to beg a little harder than that, Ashley.”

God! She was starting to feel so unbelievably horny. Her pussy was quivering, anxious to be penetrated. This must be the sexual torture he’d mentioned earlier.

“It won’t hurt you, Starry Eyes. Unless you lied about not being allergic and I know you don’t have sensitive skin.”

Fire licked her buttocks as the unmistakable lash of a whip snapped against her tender flesh. Her muscles clenched the item tighter, the burn got worse.

Perspiration popped out over her skin, chilling the heat.

“You shouldn’t have come here, Ashley. Shouldn’t have come and reminded me of what we had.”

Another sharp lash.

Her buttocks clenched harder. The burn in her ass from the ginger made her gasp.

Oh, God!

Another lash, the fiery pleasure-pain made her forget the burn. Made her want more.

“I remember how you craved Blade’s cock up your ass while I whipped your breasts. Do you remember Blade?”

Another sharp snap. She cried out as her buttocks clenched around fire.

Her pussy was on fire now. A wonderful horniness that begged to be satisfied.

“I asked if you remember, Blade?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. The coldness in his voice made her wonder once again if he’d been jealous of Blade fucking her.

“Did you enjoy the things he did to you, Starry Eyes? Did you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed watching?”

Oh sweet heavens!

Buy Link

Jan lives in Ontario, Canada. She’s a part time caregiver and also writes erotic romances on her four acres of secluded forest tucked away in Minden Hills cottage country. She has three feline fur balls and she enjoys gardening, hiking, cross-country skiing, kayaking, reading and writing. Jan is a member of the Romance Writers of America, Passionate Ink and the Authors Guild.

Learn more about Jan Springer and her terrific books on her website and Facebook.

I'll be back tomorrow with some wonderful news. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-17T07:41:00.000-08:00

GORDON RAMSAY FRONT AND CENTER

Born in Scotland and raised in England, Gordon Ramsay has soared to stardom in the kitchen and has earned no less than 12 Michelin stars in his short career. This creative Master Chef is also the proud owner of no less than fifteen pubs and restaurants around the world. His accomplishments include television programs and a wide selection of amazing cookbooks.

Today we're sharing with you a fantastic cookbook I badgered my kids to buy me. They're grateful to have done so as they reap the benefits. :)

GORDON RAMSAY'S WORLD KITCHEN
Recipes from The F-Word
Gordon Ramsay
ISBN 13: 9781554701995
Key Porter Books

All Chef Ramsay's books are available at your local bookstores and from Amazon.

Gordon Ramsay's World Kitchen is filled with recipes from starters through desserts from ten different countries. If you're not a fish lover, don't be swayed from this exceptional book. There are scads of recipes you'll still love to prepare and eat. We have two favorites I've prepared for us and company. First is wild mushrooms on griddled polenta with pecorino, page 37. This appetizer has a beautiful aftertaste. The other is buffalo chicken wings with sour cream and chive dip, page 232. They are so flavorful you can make a meal on them alone.

Chef Ramsay makes it easy with photos and concise direction for preparation. From novice to expert, Gordon Ramsay's World Kitchen is a cookbook every kitchen must own.

I'll be back Wednesday with the Queen of Hot, Jan Springer. Until then...

Happy Cooking!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-14T05:37:00.000-08:00

STEAM TOYS

Today we have renown author Destiny Blaine and her latest sizzler, STEAM TOYS.

But first a little about the private side of this creative author.

Destiny began her writing career as a ghost writer. Accustomed to working in the shadows, it's really no surprise to find her writing is often classified under the paranormal genre. She particularly loves writing about fang-bangers and leans toward creating sexy-hot alpha males ready to dominate the world and the women they love. Additionally, Destiny’s cowboys are true to form. She grew up on a large working cattle ranch where her weekends were spent riding, herding cattle, or plopped down in front of the television watching football with her brothers and father.

Destiny lives in East Tennessee with her husband and their teenagers. Their extended family consists of several teenagers they literally pluck from their homes when they're headed out of town. Destiny says, "We enjoy professional football games, beaches, and music festivals. Most of the time, we travel with a crowd. These teenagers enrich our lives. Over the years I've come to think of them as 'my' kids and they sure keep life interesting."

STEAM TOYS
Destiny Blaine
ISBN 978-1-60168-388-5
Aspen Mountain Press

BUY LINK

Revenge is a hot, bitter dish when served up enthusiastically by someone empowered by extra steam.

BLURB:
Heidi Labeidi, a successful Nevada brothel owner, had the world by its tail until her deceptive lover Stan Graves disposed of her. Lost somewhere between life and the afterlife, Heidi materializes in her former home thirty years after her death. She has a second chance and she’s hell bent on solving her own murder.

With a knack for creating pleasure-inducing trinkets and furniture, Edward Brady is an eccentric mad scientist on the verge of greatness. He’s also in desperate need of an assistant and his problems are solved when he discovers a sensual ghost enjoying his sex toys.

Heidi has something to offer Edward but her assistance comes at a price. And when Edward becomes an assassin’s mark, only Heidi can help him. Will Edward barter with a ghost who can save him and if he does, will the former madam become the one woman Edward is unable to resist?

EXCERPT:
A few seconds after the hand-job, she tucked him in his pants and redressed quietly. He stared at her in disbelief. “You are most definitely a tease.”

“No, Edward. I’m not,” she assured him, adjusting her simple sleeves.

‘Then do you mind telling me why you didn’t finish what you started?”

“Of course not,” she said, crossing one long leg over the other. “Lesson number one is just for you, Edward. You may have a whore in your lap, with your cock in her cheek, but you never, ever make the implication you believe she’s old, used and cheap.”

“I made you feel that way?”

She tilted her head down and with wide eyes, she confirmed it. “Yes you did, Edward.”

“You’re the one who said you’d given head a few times. Not me.”

She smiled, placed her hands in her lap and looked straight ahead. When they pulled into the parking lot of the towers where Edward lived, she said, “And you suggested I may have been out of practice which was a direct slam to my age.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It was, Edward,” she said, pushing her hair over her shoulders. She tilted her head toward the driver approaching them. “Try not to act like a scorned lover when you get out of the car. Remember, he can’t see me. I’ve learned from experience those employees closest to you are the first to run their mouths when things begin to spiral out of control. The last thing you need is your driver telling a reporter you’ve lost it.”

The limousine driver opened the door. Edward stepped out. He was brewing. Not only did he have a hard-on, he had a complicated woman to credit and blame. Not only did he have someone to blame, he couldn’t publicly point an accusing finger her way.

“Did you have a nice dinner, sir?” the driver asked, trying to make small talk while Edward retrieved his wallet.

“We did,” he reported. “Thank you.”

The driver accepted his tip and arched a brow. “Did you meet friends while you were out?”

Heidi studied her fingernails. “You didn’t listen.”

“How the hell was I supposed to listen when I’m standing here with blue balls?”

“I beg your pardon, sir?” the driver fired back.

Heidi yawned. “Since your dick seems to be the only thing you can think with, see if it can help you worm your way out of this. I’m waiting upstairs.”

She was gone in a flash and Edward wished he could disappear just as rapidly.

“Sir, are you feeling okay?”

“No, Truman,” Edward replied. “I’m not. I apologize for the outburst. I’m hearing voices tonight.”

Truman frowned. “Sir, I’d strongly advise against telling anyone else about voices. You know how people like to talk.”

BUY LINK

Learn more about Destiny Blaine on her website and blog. You can also find her on Twitter.

I'll be back Monday with a review for World Kitchen, a fantastic cookbook by infamous Gordon Ramsey. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-12T06:26:00.000-08:00

THE SEA OFFERS MANY TREATS

KC Kendriks is here with her #6 Best Seller from Amber Allure Netting Neptune. This contemporary gay romance warms your heart and other parts, too. :) Here, see for yourself.

NETTING NEPTUNE
Book One of the Southern Cross series
KC Kendriks
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-573-7
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure

BUY LINK

BLURB:
Theron Bowman is in the throes of a mid-life crisis. At forty, he needs to make some serious decisions about his future. He splurges on a two-week vacation in the Caribbean, and like everything else in his life, things go horribly awry and he ends up working to pay for his room.

Forced by his father to break ties with his family, Colby Denton came to rest on St. Lucia, and opened an exclusive resort. To celebrate his tenth year on the island, and his birthday, Colby arranges for a series of festive beach side parties. When a sexy sea god swims out of the ocean in front of him, Colby has a brand new plan – netting Neptune.

EXCERPT:
“Listen, Colby, I’ll pay you once I get home. You’re trying to run a business here.”

“And I can afford to do a nice thing for a stranded traveler. Now give me the name of whatever official you spoke with, and I’ll make a few calls. Maybe your luggage will turn up.”

Theron pulled an envelope from his canvas duffle bag and handed it to me. The business card was stuck in the fold and I recognized the name listed. The man liked to make sure everyone knew he was in charge, but I groveled like a pro, when necessary, to get what I wanted.

“Thanks, man. I really owe you.”

I shook my head. “You really don’t, so let’s just forget it, okay? If we don’t, we’ll sit here all day and not get anything done.” I slid the cold crab dip at him. “Tell me what you think about this.”

Theron scooped up a healthy helping on a wheat cracker and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. I watched his pink tongue flick bits of dip off his lower lip. His gaze locked with mine. Very slowly he licked his upper lip. I squirmed in my seat. He didn’t even try to stop from laughing at me as he went for another cracker. I held his gaze.

“If you tease me like that again, babe, I’m gonna lick the extra off for you.”

He broke the cracker in half and handed a portion to me. “I wouldn’t want you to go to any more trouble for me.”

I took the cracker. “You’re a slick one, Mr. Bowman, but I’m known for my persistence.”

He popped a melon ball into his mouth, and swallowed. “I sorta figured that out about you.”

Before I could reply, Josie tapped me on the shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed at the front desk, Colby.”

“I’ll be right there.” I turned back to my guest. “Please. Finish your meal, then come inside and find either Josie or me. Josie, if you can’t find me, please take Mr. Bowman to my suite so he can get a shower and relax for a while.”

I didn’t linger. The sooner I took care of whatever problem had occurred, the quicker I could get Theron alone. After that, I was already too worked up over this guy and it wouldn’t be smart to speculate.

Right. I planned to cast a net over my Neptune and give him a Southern Cross night to remember.

The problem at the front desk was minor. The computer had pulled one of its usual tricks. I inputted my password, the software reset, and all was well. I slipped into my office and called the local airfield. Better to start with folks who were friendly. If they had off-loaded Theron’s suitcase, then I’d grovel.

They were certain Theron’s luggage had not been removed from the plane, and had no idea how it had been missed. It was likely back in Charlotte, North Carolina by now. I made another call, this one to the States to a travel agent friend of mine. He agreed to make a few stateside calls. The suitcase had to be somewhere, and I wanted to know where. Once I had the information, a decision based on my guest’s plans was possible.

Meanwhile, Theron could borrow some of my clothes for tonight. Maybe, just maybe, I’d manage to steal a kiss, or more, before the party started. I checked the patio and he was gone, so I headed for my suite with all due haste. The sound of the shower spray zinging against the tiles greeted me.

My knees quivered with the knowledge he was behind the door, naked. I had to let him know I was here. I couldn’t let him stroll out of the bathroom in his birthday suit, all clean, smelling fresh like soap, and dripping wet. Could I?

No, damn it.

I knocked on the bathroom door and told him I was in the living area. He called back to me, his voice muffled by running water and the wooden door between us.

“What?”

I raised my voice a few decibel levels. “I said I’m out here.”

“You could be in here, you know.”

Say…why the hell not?

Cock swelling, pulse skipping, I set a new “stripping world record” and opened the door. Through the clear glass enclosure, Theron’s gaze slammed into mine, wanting yet wary. I paused, shivering in the steam teasing my sweaty skin. His gaze flicked down to my erection, hanging heavy, and mine went to his.

Completely aroused, his penis jutted out, full and rosy red. Cut, he was a solid eight inches, maybe a bit more, with prominent veins. I was of an equal length, but he looked to have me on girth. From the sudden gleam in his green eyes, I didn’t think it a problem.

“Are you coming…in?” He stroked his cock with a soapy hand.

BUY LINK

Catch up with KC Kendricks on her website and personal blog. KC is also on Twitter and MySpace. Be sure to join her mailing list, Between the Keys, for more sweet information.

I'll be back Friday with a new release from Destiny Blaine. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-11T06:15:00.000-08:00

A Little Czech Heat to Warm You

Prague is a beautiful old city filled with tradition and sexy as hell men. Here's a glimpse to wet your appetite.

BUY LINK

BLURB:
Life isn't easy for aspiring interior designer Lacey Blake when she finds herself stranded in Prague dressed like a dolled up hooker for her fetish minded, soon to be ex, boyfriend. The cash-strapped American traveler, boasting a feather boa and stilettos that would make a dominatrix cry, is saved by an intriguing offer proposed by a staid giant in a sleek Armani suit. It doesn’t take long to convince herself there’s nothing like a sex-fest to get the most out of a free vacation.

Dragan Petrovic is determined his 5-star hotel will retain its unblemished reputation and no prostitute will kickoff her career in his lobby. But one look into her eyes and he knows there is more to her than a micro mini and a push up bra. The urge to protect her drives him to madness when he suggests an unusual scheme that stirs up deep desires and alters their lives forever.

Lacey is hot and ready for action when she accepts Dragon’s offer, and to relieve the sexual tension between them, takes the matter in hand…

EXCERPT:
...Lacey lifted out a teetering stack of silky looking items. Lingerie? A light blue bra encased with what must be rhinestones slid to the floor, quickly followed by the matching lacey bikini panties.

“What are these?” Dragan knelt next to her, blood pounding through his veins as he captured the delicate cloth in his hands.

“My undies.” She continued to rummage, spilling more silken items onto the carpet.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Uncomfortable?”

“Surprisingly, no.” She giggled, her creamy skin taking on a rosy glow as she dipped her head lower to the suitcase. “Damn it, where is it?”

A vision of her dressed only in the intimate garments and those sexy high heels strapped to her ankles flooded his mind, sending jolts of electricity south.

His stiff cock, which seemed to be its normal posture in her presence, swelled larger as she walked toward him, its throbbing head anxious to be deep inside her, wrapped in her wet heat. The tips of her hard nipples shoved against the silky fabric of her bra, their outline a beacon to his aching member. His fingers itched to caress the soft mounds, rising over the minuscule rhinestone-studded cups, and tongue her hard nipples. He could almost feel the erotic sensation when he released them, mounted her and slid his cock between their firm flesh.

She stepped closer, drawing his attention lower to her shapely hips. Mesmerized, he watched them sway, the movement seductive, sensual, compelling him to taste her.

The clear gems sprinkled across her sheer panties twinkled in the dim light. He licked his dry lips. The burning desire to kiss the lacey vee at the apex of her thighs, suckle her clit through the thin material and graze a finger along her folds brought sweat to his brow.

She slid the bra straps down her shoulders. His heart thudded, banging against his ribcage. He stood…

“Earth to Vic. Come in, Vic.” A hand shook his shoulder, returning him to the present. “Um, you might want to let go, big time.”

He glanced down at his hands, wadding her undergarments into a knot. Kersati. Fuck, what the hell could he say to her and not appear to be an old lecher? “I apologize. My mind must have taken a short vacation.”

She laughed. “Yeah, right. Don’t even think I’ll buy that one, big guy.”

Dragan pursed his lips, not sure how to determine the best way to measure Lacey’s shapely body without appearing to molest her, especially after making a fool of himself over her delicate underwear. He did not trust himself to hold back, and not wrap her in his arms and kiss her until she begged him to make love to her.

Kersati, how the hell could he have become so affected by this young woman in a matter of an hour? He looked at her, his hands fisted tight at his sides.

“Do you have a tape measure?”

He shook his head, not trusting the right words to travel past his lips.

A grin spread across her face and carried to her bright hazel eyes, eyes that seemed to see deep into his soul.

“Then how do you plan to do this? String? Belt?” Her voice echoed the humor radiating from her face. “Silk scarves?”

He looked at his raised hands, the fingers spread wide as if he were testing melons in the market. Disgusted by his absurd action, he jammed them into his trouser pockets.

“It’s not going to happen if you don’t make it happen.” She reached for his wrists. When he dug them deeper into his pockets, she laughed. Kersati, his balls were drawn so tight they hurt...

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I'll be back tomorrow with outstanding m/m author KC Kendriks. Be sure to drop by. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-10T07:29:00.000-08:00

WANTED: Dead or Alive

AUTHORS who write in any genre.

That's right, folks, I'm looking for any and all authors who want to promote their books, either backlist or new releases, for free on my sites. If you're interested, please email me sloanetaylor @ comcast.net, no spaces.

This year I'm attacking promotion for myself and other authors and utilizing all my sites to get the word out. My schedule is:

Mixed Up Mondays offer book reviews, great restaurants, and new recipes.

Tuesday Teasers are back to entice you.

Writer Wednesday introduces you to talented authors in every genre with excerpts from their fine work.

Thunder Thursday will bring you news on my latest work.

Fabulous Friday announces new releases from other authors.

Be sure to check back for all the latest info. :)

See you tomorrow. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-06T06:55:00.001-08:00

HAIL THE QUEEN

The Queen of Hot, Jan Springer, is back with a new release guaranteed to singe your Kindle.

DARK HEAT, an amazing read, comes with two Reader Advisories:

Dark Heat contains sensitive matter such as forced seductions that is integral to the story. Please use your discretion if such content offends you.

And:

The heroes have a human female give their heroine some sexy loving in a short f/f scene.

They were all I needed to ensure I'd enjoy this well-written novel.

DARK HEAT
Vampira Book Two
Jan Springer
ISBN: 9781419929960
Ellora's Cave Publishing

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BLURB:
Warrior Queen Megan Bloodrayne was betrayed by her two forced mates. Fleeing them, she hides within Vampira, a secret coven of vampires who live undetected among the humans.

Recaptured, Megan is horrified to learn she’s been framed for crimes she did not commit. Her mates, kings Christian and Zane, believe she may be a traitor and they’ll try anything to get the truth out of her. Megan’s got a secret and she’ll do anything to keep it, including enduring scorching sessions of red-hot sexual torture.

EXCERPT:
Run! Her mind screamed. But to where?

They had her cornered. She realized her mistake now. Upon climbing to the mountaintop she’d ventured out onto a peninsula. Three sides were severe drops of thousands of feet onto solid rock that would kill even a vampire. She was also upwind, that’s why she hadn’t smelled them.

Damn stupid vamp! She couldn’t have been more foolish if she’d tried. They must have been watching her. Waiting for the right moment. Laughing at her stupidity.

Despite the fear curling through her like a suffocating blanket, she recognized the two males who had come to the alpine house that one morn. Yet if only they’d met in another less threatening way…

“Do not do anything foolish, female.” The younger of the two spoke with softness as if trying to gentle a frightened mare. But she was no mare submitting to a ride.

“I warn you. I will not hesitate to kill both of you before you touch me.” She held her spear up in a threatening manner. The males didn’t flinch at her threat. If anything the young one looked worried as he cast quick glances to the cliffs on each side of her, obviously fearing she might jump to her death. If they would be so lucky. Ha!

The older one, the more handsome of the two, to her utmost irritation, quirked the tips of his lips in utter amusement, allowing the erotic length of his fangs to shine fully in the moonlight.

He found her amusing? Did he not realize she could sail her spear through the cold mountain air and pierce his spine, shattering it? Vampires were a strong breed, but a shattered spine would most certainly kill the brute. Even he could not regenerate that quickly to avoid death.

No, she didn’t want him dead, he was much too fine a male specimen. She would find another way to escape.

“Perhaps a good fucking by both of us will calm you, my Lady,” the older suggested. She trembled under his magnificent lusty glare and realized he must have the gift of mesmerizing.

Oh shit, she thought, using the human term she found quite effective when she was in trouble. If she didn’t break eye contact with him, she would be easily taken. And yet, under his stare, she wanted to be taken. By both of them. Just as he’d suggested. Taken at the same time. Over and over again.

Naked male flesh slapping against her. Huge, powerful hands holding her ass steady. One of them plunging into her pussy. The other one coming into her from behind.

Megan caught herself and closed her eyes in the hopes of breaking those naughty thoughts. He must have put the suggestion into her mind. He must have! Wanton heat spiraled through her and hot moisture pooled between her thighs. Her nipples felt so terribly hard and her breasts pleasantly heavy and swollen.

If they captured her she would lose her new-found freedom but maybe gain sexual freedom. The thought came upon her so quickly and so silently she didn’t even realize the two males were several steps closer to her until she opened her eyes again.

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For deeper insight on what makes the Queen of Hot so hot, check out Jan Springer's website. Once there, click on blog in the header for more entertaining reads.

I'll be back Monday. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2011-01-03T06:36:00.001-08:00

THE BEST GIFTS

aren't always found under the tree. CLAIRE DE LUNE, the erotic sci-fi book I co-authored with razor-witted Robert Appleton, is listed on Amazon. That's right, folks, you can now buy it on Kindle and in PAPERBACK.

Here's a little to entice you.

CLAIRE DE LUNE
Robert Appleton & Sloane Taylor
ISBN E-book 978-1-61124-011-5
ISBN Paperback 978-1-61124-995-8
Amber Quill Press - Amber Heat

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BUY LINK PAPERBACK

BLURB:
You’re invited to the galaxy’s most prestigious beauty pageant.
Clothing optional.
Romance and danger…fully provided.

Cocky young detectives Gerry Rappeneau and Sebastian Thorpe-Campbell arrive at the premier lunar resort expecting a week of eye candy and long massages. With a half-billion-credit purse up for grabs, this year’s pageant is the focus of a hundred worlds. And beauty isn’t the only thing in the eye of the beholder.

One contestant, Evelyn Lyons, is attacked and her assailant killed. Surely a simple case of a stalker gone mad, as nothing bad ever happens at the Selene contest. So the brochure says.

The closer Gerry gets to Evelyn, the more he is convinced she’s hiding something. His meticulous character sparks with her wild, sassy nature, and they embark on a torrid affair. Their forbidden romance isn’t the only thing set to ignite in Pont de Reves.

Sebastian’s infatuation with demure Claire Villiers, another contestant, threatens to put all four of them in harm’s way.

A deadly trail of corporate conspiracy, monstrous assassins and hot bikini wax is more than anyone bargained for in this incendiary erotic mystery. Get ready for some serious heat on the dark side of the moon.

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I'll be back Wednesday. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2010-12-23T06:33:00.000-08:00

WISHING YOU ALL

a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS and a BRILLIANT NEW YEAR!

I'll be back next week. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell

2010-12-20T07:52:00.001-08:00

HOW ABOUT A LITTLE COWBOY KINK?

Today's guest author is delightful Jenna Howard with her amazing new release SPURRED ON.

In sixth grade, Jenna had to keep a journal for a class project. One assignment was “What do I want to be when I grow up.” Young Jenna carefully printed out she “wanted to be a writer.” Those words would guide her toward writing teen angst stories in high school and on to erotic romance, a genre her mother is soooo comfortable with. :) Jenna currently resides in Calgary, Alberta, Canada and continues to fascinate readers with her unique style.

SPURRED ON
Jenna Howard
The Wild Rose Press

Buy Link

BLURB:
He wears the spurs, but she's not afraid to use them.

Country singer and secret Domme Jessa Brody is home to perform at the Calgary Stampede and to brainstorm some new songs for her next album. Sexy bronc rider Luke O'Connor is once again the perfect inspiration for her songs and naughty dreams. Strong, brave and handsome, he's man enough to submit to her wildest desires. But can she handle the responsibilities that go hand in hand with being a good Domme, or will she lose herself --and Luke--when Spurred On?

EXCERPT:
“Oh, he’s a love.” Standing up, she walked over to the horse and leaned against him. "Aren’t you?” She stroked the horse’s back, loving the curve and muscles.

Luke’s gaze followed her hand.

That’s right, I could be stroking you like this.

Jessa gave the muscular rump a sharp slap and Luke’s nostrils flared. Her body hummed. She handed him the guitar then hopped onto the gate. Swinging her legs over, she jumped down.

“See, the secret to Crow is simple.” Finally, she faced Luke.

He tried to look casual and unaffected but she didn’t believe the act. Luke held himself still—wary yet curious, curious but wary.

“He’s all tough and shit until you set the rules. A little knee in the belly as you tighten the cinch. Sure, he’ll buck.” When she leaned against Luke, his breath sucked in audibly.

“But you ride him hard until he knows who holds the reins.” She licked along his jaw and cupped the thick bulge beneath the faded denim and squeezed. “Giddy up,” she whispered in his ear.

Every inch of his six feet shuddered. There was something potent in making the strong tremble. She took her guitar from him. “You look good, Luke,” she called as she walked out of the stable.

Holy hell, her nipples throbbed and her pussy ached. She’d also die before admitting that inside she was bouncing around like a teenage girl yelling, “He’s here! He’s here!”

Would Luke still buck her control?

Buy Link

Learn more about talented Jenna Howard on her website and her entertaining blog. You can also follow Jenna on facebook and twitter.

I'll be back Wednesday. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2010-12-17T06:03:00.000-08:00

DOES ROB APPLETON NEED A BITCH SLAP?

Let me know after you read his comments in our dual interview at Melissa's Imaginarium.

Learn more about my cheeky writing partner on his website and Mercurial Times blog. I guarantee you'll enjoy his quick wit and his terrific books.

While you're surfing the web, check out Amber Quill Press - Amber Heat and read an excerpt from our hot new release CLAIRE DE LUNE. It's the perfect gift for Kindle lovers.

Have a wonderful weekend. I'll be back Monday. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2010-12-15T06:09:00.000-08:00

STILL NEED THE PERFECT CHRISTMAS GIFT?

Or a great stocking stuffer? Then check out The latest best seller from Dorien Grey.

CAESAR’S FALL
Dorien Grey
ISBN 978-1-936144-08-2 Print
ISBN 978-1-936144-09-9 Ebook
Zumaya Boundless

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BLURB:
With a new building to restore and his relationship with Steve growing more serious, the last thing Elliott needs is someone else’s problem, but when lottery millionaire Bruno Caesar moves into his building he can’t just ignore the man’s pleas for help.

Then Bruno’s life comes to an abrupt end when he falls from his balcony. There’s only one problem—he was terrified of heights...and never went onto the balcony. Bruno can’t rest until the puzzle of his sudden death is solved, and Elliott and John are once again searching for answers.

EXCERPT:
As they entered the lobby, two men, one impeccably dressed in a very expensive suit and tie, had just been cleared by the doorman and directed to 40J. Somewhat to his surprise, Elliott recognized the men as Button and Paul, regulars at the Anvil, a nearby gay bar. He'd met them there some time before, but couldn't recall when he'd last seen them.

Spotting him, Button said "Elliott!" in a tone usually reserved for greeting long-lost friends."What a surprise! Going to the party?"

"No," Elliott said. "I live here." They converged on the way to the elevators, and Elliott introduced Steve.

"Well," Button said, "We'd wondered why we hadn't seen you in a while." Giving Steve an exaggerated head-to-toe scan, he added, "Now I see why. Why go out for hamburger when you can have steak at home?"

Steve grinned as the elevator door opened and they all got on.

"So how do you know Bruno?" Elliott asked.

"Everyone knows Bruno," Paul volunteered. "He's like a shooting star, suddenly appearing out of nowhere to streaking across the firmament of the Chicago gay scene."

Elliott and Steve exchanged quick bemused glances, and Button said, "Once a publicist, always a publicist. And he's hardly a shooting star. I've known Bruno for centuries."

"Maybe so," Paul said firmly, "but that's before he won the lottery."

"He won the lottery?" Steve asked, obviously impressed.

"And not just any lottery," Paul said: "The MegaBucks, no less! Fifty-nine million!"

"Wow!" Steve said.

The elevator stopped at 35 and the door opened.

"Why don't you come up with us?" Button asked. "I'm sure you'd be welcome."

Elliott, standing in the doorway to prevent its closing, said: "Bruno did invite us, but we had a birthday party and had to decline."

"It's not too late," Paul suggested.

Since Steve had already stepped out of the elevator, Elliott looked quickly to him for confirmation, then said, "Not tonight, I don't think. Maybe next time."

They all exchanged smiles and waves as the door closed, and Button said, "Don't be a stranger!"

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For greater insight into the "real person" behind Dorien Grey, the curious are invited to check out his website and his various blogs: Dorien Grey and Me and A Life in Photos among them.

There is nothing Dorien loves more than hearing from a reader. If you'd like to contact him, just drop him a note at doriengrey@gmail.com.

Have a wonderful weekend, I'll be back Monday. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2010-12-13T05:34:00.000-08:00

WHAT YOU DON'T CONFESS

is a hot, new release by KC Kendriks. This well-written novella is part of Stepping Out an AmberPax™ Collection of Erotic Romance by Various Authors. I do believe you'll love KC's book. :)

WHAT YOU DON'T CONFESS
KC Kendriks
ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-020-7
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure

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BLURB:
Bright and beautiful, Cassidy Barlow is one of Marionville’s new breed of movers and shakers. Outspoken on political and social issues, Cass draws a lot of media attention, and knows how to us it. Out and proud, Cass makes no apologies for who he is, or who he wants – and he wants Dylan Donoghy. The only thing is, from where Cass stands, Dylan seems to be involved with two different men.

Coming out. The most difficult phrase in Dylan Donoghy’s vocabulary. Handsome, successful, wealthy, he’s made it this far in life with only his closest friends knowing he’s gay. Dylan has a good reason for that to change – his deepening attraction to Cassidy Barlow. It doesn’t come easy, but Dylan takes a few first steps out of the closet. It’s his only choice if he wants to be with Cass, even though he knows Cass has some secrets of his own.

Every man has a private past, and an unwritten future. What he won’t confess stands between the two.

EXCERPT:
“You do know those four watchdogs of yours were there the entire evening, don’t you?”

I nodded. “They like to keep an eye on me. Obviously, it didn’t discourage you at all.”

His hand gripped my shoulders again. His amber gaze drilled into mine. “Just so I don’t step in it, Dylan, how many of them have you slept with? And don’t lie to me.”

I fought back against of wave of anger. How dare he imply I’d not tell him the truth? Being astute, he knew he’d pissed me off. I saw the apology in his eyes as he touched his fingertips to my lips.

“That didn’t come out right, Dylan.”

“ Apology accepted. Before today, I might have told you it was none of your business, but now I think you should know. We’re no longer intimate, but I have a very close, special relationship with both Travis and Tyler. I’m very happy for them that they both found a partner.”

“That’s what I figured out Friday night when they spent all that time running in and out of an area marked ‘private’. Especially Templeton.”

“Don’t test me too often, Cass. I don’t like it.” I spoke sharper than intended, but he needed to know my boundaries. “There’s a lot of space between your age and mine. Be careful not to judge until you get to where I am.”

Those restless hands of his skimmed along my sides. “I’m not being judgmental, I swear. I just needed to know what the dynamics are between you and them so I don’t put both feet in my mouth.”

“Okay. I get it. And for what it’s worth, all four of them, especially Travis, is rooting for you.”

“Really? He’s in my corner, is he?” Cass tucked his fingers under my belt and tugged. I levered my weight off the door and stepped past him, capturing his hand to pull him into the casual space I used for informal gatherings.

“He’s using tough love on me when it comes to you, so don’t be shocked, or surprised, at his little quips. Have a seat.”

Cass eased down on the love seat and patted the spot beside him. I ignored him, and went to the bar. “What would you like to drink?”

“Ginger ale?”

I nodded and poured two, handing his to him with an apology it didn’t come in a brandy snifter as I settled in beside him. I stopped him when he moved to put his arm around me.

“You’re killing me here, Dylan.”

“No, I’m not.” I sipped my drink. “Cass, I don’t want to make a misstep with you. I know what you want tonight, but what do you want next week? Or next month? Christ, what do I want next week?”

He leaned back and watched me with those amber eyes. His cool, even regard gave little indication of his thoughts. Cass downed his drink in three fast swallows, then swirled the ice around in the bottom of the empty glass.

“Do you always think everything to death, Dylan?”

“It’s a hazard one encounters in middle age.”

“I’m not some mistake you’ll regret when you’re ninety.”

I laid my hand on his thigh. The heat of his skin penetrated his jeans, and snaked up my arm. “You’re right, you know. I won’t regret meeting you, whether dinner is all we share, or we become friends, or if we become lovers.”

“Or? If? I don’t appreciate being jerked around.”

“Well, poor little you that I haven’t figured this out yet.”

Cass’s mouth dropped open, then snapped closed. He stared at me, blinked, and stared again. I reveled in private glee that I’d seen him speechless twice in one day, but that amusement was strongly tempered by the knowledge I had him too far off balance. I squeezed his knee.

“Look, Cass. I’m not jerking you around. Getting involved with someone isn’t easy for me. I’ve never been someone who gets a hard-on for a guy and loses my mind until I fuck him. I have to think things through, and consider the impact it may have on my life.”

He shook his head. “Babe, you’ve got to start living in the moment, and stop living in fear.” Cass set his empty glass down on the end table and stood. With angry, disappointed eyes, he met my gaze. A muscle moved in his clenched jaw.

My heart beat painfully. I knew what he was going to say...

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I'll be back Wednesday. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2010-12-10T06:35:00.001-08:00

DESTINY BLAINE - CENTER STAGE

Dynamic author Destiny Blaine is here to share her soon to be released novel Waking Up the Arguably Dead.

Here's the tagline: Waiting to Die Can be Such a Drag.

Now that has to peak your interest. :)

Hi, Sloane. Thank you for allowing me to be your guest today. I wanted to stop by and tell you about my upcoming book.

Waking Up the Arguably Dead is a Dark Paranormal MFM Romance with comic relief elements. Readers get a glimpse inside my hometown of Blountville, Tennessee as they flip the pages of this Passion in Print novel. They’ll see what I see while driving down Main Street and they'll discover a country store, while somewhat fabricated, where many of us pop in for an ice cold soda and good conversation.

Waking Up the Arguably Dead introduces readers to Granny Myrtle, a spunky little old woman who is several characters all wrapped up in one. I created Granny from a few country grandmothers I’ve had the pleasure of meeting at least once. As for Addison: Well, I don't know anyone quite like Addison but she sure is one lucky gal. Read the book and find out why a lot of girls in these parts might be a little envious.

In this novel, you’ll meet Melissa, the LPN over at the local physician’s office. I’m happy to say she is true to form. No, there isn’t a Dr. Michaels in Blountville, but Melissa lives here. She’s a saucy little vixen who knows what she wants and doesn’t care to tell everyone how much she’s enjoyed getting it. The first name has been changed to protect the promiscuous and as far as I know the real ‘Melissa’ never worked a day in her life. You'll like her though. She's full of surprises.

Step inside Waking Up the Arguably Dead. Meet my characters. Then, drop me an email, destinyblaine@yahoo.com, and let me know what you think or what would you do if you were in Addison’s shoes?

WAKING UP THE ARGUABLY DEAD
Destiny Blaine
Passion in Print

Genre: MFM Paranormal-Vampire

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BLURB:
Martin Cartwright's neighbor receives disheartening news. She's dying. As far as Martin can tell, Addison has never looked better, but when daily sightings of his beautiful neighbor become few and far between, Martin realizes Addison isn't too keen on living. And he decides to help her get on with dying.

Martin plans to scare Addison into living. Unbeknown to him, someone is watching with similar goals. Only Drake Valentine's interests in the lovely Miss Deveraux vary from Martin's ambitions. Soon, Addison must choose between living in the shadows of sickness and stepping into the darkness where she's always been drawn.

EXCERPT:
Addison Deveraux stared at her family physician for several minutes, unable to speak and incapable of processing the information he relayed. She focused on the white walls around her. She skimmed over the medical licenses and board certifications, eventually narrowing her gaze on the overstuffed plastic brochure rack housing material about common medical problems. The entire time, she remained faintly aware of her doctor’s monotone voice. An avid movie enthusiast, Addison disconnected from the moment and recalled a recent flick she’d watched.

She remembered one scene in particular where a woman learned of her life-destroying health circumstance. Thanks to modern day technology, the character slipped into a mindboggling funnel surrounded by noise typically found in a seashell. The echo intensified and the room scrambled into spinning pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

On the big screen, the actress sobbed. The doctor calmly provided information about the disease for which she’d been diagnosed and the woman finally zoomed in on those fated words: “You’re dying.”

Addison blinked. “I am?”

“Addison,” Dr. Michaels began gently, “Haven’t you heard a word I just said?”

She swallowed. “No, I was…” Thinking about dying.

“Addison , this isn’t something you should take lightly,” Dr.Michaels stressed, leaning over his desk. An older man with salt and pepper hair, Dr. Michaels wore tinted large-rimmed glasses and resembled someone who might have been chosen to portray a physician delivering detrimental news.

Addison watched his mouth move. His words hummed all around her, beating into her ears like a hollow drum. “Treatment is something we should discuss together. This isn’t the end and that’s it.”

Boom. Boom. Boom. The maddening tempo gained momentum.

Advice slipped from his lips but the words ran together in a never-ending slur. “Think of diagnosis as a transition. By the time you’ve processed the information I’ve given you, you’ll be ready to face the days ahead. In the end, you’ll be much better off.”

She gulped. There it was. The dreaded statement, You’ll be much better off.

How many times had she attended a funeral for one of her grandmother’s friends and heard the same thing? Mary Lou Cornell went to a better place. Dan Bradley was much better off after both arms and one leg were amputated.

Carla Sue Davis found Jesus after living on the streets and working for some pimp who decided to repay her years of servitude with continual beatings. And Barbara Jo Jones faced death the same way she’d faced living; always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

No indeed, Addison refused to walk down the same road chosen by Granny Myrtle’s best friends, or her cousin Gertrude, who for some reason received her bad news and decided to kick the bucket, before the bucket smacked her upside her head. No way. Addison planned to do a little better for herself. She’d die on her own terms.

The way Addison met death was her decision. Since she had a choice in the matter, she planned to go on out there and greet death—take her fate by the horns and ride the daylights out of it.

Yep, it was time to get on with dying.

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Learn more about Destiny and the books she loves to write on her website and be sure to check out Destiny's informative blog.

I'll be back Monday. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2010-12-08T05:39:00.001-08:00

SPICE UP YOUR LIFE

with Ginger Simpson through her gifted writing in all of her thirteen books.

FIRST DEGREE INNOCENCE is Ginger's latest release and a writing stretch for this talented author. It's a novel that proves Ginger Simpson has a formidable talent.

On the personal side, Ginger tells us she retired from her big girl job and hoped to devote more time to writing, but got caught up in the every day world of promotions, emails and chatting. Ginger decided that one book a year might just be her norm.

Ginger spends time with husband, Kelly, and always finds time for Spencer, the love of her life. Her grandson, diagnosed with Autism, has shown her that with determination, all things are possible. Look how long it took Grandma Moses to find fame.

FIRST DEGREE INNOCENCE
Ginger Simpson
ISBN: 1456320092 Print
ISBN: 9781456320096 E-book
Books We Love Publishing Partners

Genre: Fiction / Romance / Suspense

BUY LINK E-Book

BUY LINK Print

BLURB:
Imagine being sent to prison for a crime you didn't commit and having everyone laugh when you proclaim you're the victim of a terrible injustice.

The transition to an inmate's life is hard enough, but when the prison bully arranges to have Carrie transferred to her cell, leaving behind her current bunk-mate and the first person to believe in her innocence, Carrie finds herself embroiled in a plot in which she wants no part.

The only bright spot in her life is a secret attraction she shares with a male guard during her work as a trustee in the prison garden. But can he save her?

EXCERPT:
“This is all a big mistake. I shouldn’t be here.” Carrie’s voice trembled. “Honestly, I’m innocent.”

With deeply-furrowed skin and graying hair, the guard looked well past fifty. She walked closer, stopping when her face was only inches from Carrie’s. “Do you have any idea how often I hear that in here?” Her breath reeked of cigarette smoke, and Carrie wrinkled her nose and turned her head. How could someone she’d never met hate her so much already? Was there even an ounce of compassion buried beneath that deep sneer?

The older woman pressed the edge of her baton against Carrie’s jawbone and forced her face forward. Her stomach clenched. Evil gleaming in her eyes, the guard delved the wooden stick under Carrie’s bra strap, slowly guiding the silky string off her shoulder and down her arm. Gooseflesh peppered her skin and she shivered.

“Stripping means everything, inmate Lang. Panties, too, sweetheart. Move it! I’m a busy person, so quit wasting my time.” The matron strode to the other side of the room, leaned against the wall, and ogled Carrie while she finished undressing.

Lowering her head, she dropped her bra atop the pile on the floor then kicked her panties off next to it. Feeling the cold invade every pore, she wrapped her arms around her upper body. Threatening tears blurred her eyes, but she squeezed her lids together and tilted her head toward the ugly pipes snaking across the ceiling. Oh Lord, what did I do to deserve this? Please, help me. You’re my last hope.

“Praying are you?” the gravelly voice taunted. “It’s a little late for that. Put those hands down to your sides and look to the front, missy.”

Carrie opened her eyes and swallowed hard. Did the woman expect her to know what to do? “N-Now what?” she asked in a quivering voice.

Just a short time ago, she’d been frisked, photographed, and finger-printed for the second time in her life. Her initial arrest had been horrifying enough, but she at least made bail for a time. Now this? She gazed down at the black ink smudges still visible on her hands. Why was this happening? Never had she felt so humiliated…and disbelieving. How could the judge have sentenced her to ten years in prison?

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Learn more about Ginger Simpson on her website and blog Dishin' It Out. Ginger's other site let's it all hang out, My Place to Rant but don't go, if you don't respect differing opinions!

I'll be back Friday with KC KENDRICKS. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2010-12-07T07:54:00.000-08:00

HELLO WORLD! I'M BACK

after almost two weeks of solitary confinement. No, I haven't been in prison. :) My computer decided to go on an unauthorized vacation. Thanks to the marvelous people at Qresolve, I'm back up and running.

While I was in limbo two marvelous authors posted about Robert Appleton and me. Check out the dual/duel interview Beth Anderson posted on her blog. Also, zip over to Melissa's Imaginarium for more information.

I'll be back tomorrow with talented Ginger Simpson. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2010-11-30T07:10:00.000-08:00

HOT OFF THE E-PRESS

CLAIRE DE LUNE
Robert Appleton & Sloane Taylor
ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-011-5 (Electronic)
ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-995-8 (Paperback)
Amber Quill Press - Amber Heat

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BLURB:
You’re invited to the galaxy’s most prestigious beauty pageant.
Clothing optional.
Romance and danger…fully provided…

Cocky young detectives Gerry Rappeneau and Sebastian Thorpe-Campbell arrive at the premier lunar resort expecting a week of eye candy and long massages. With a half-billion-credit purse up for grabs, this year’s pageant is the focus of a hundred worlds. And beauty isn’t the only thing in the eye of the beholder.

One contestant, Evelyn Lyons, is attacked and her assailant killed. Surely a simple case of a stalker gone mad, as nothing bad ever happens at the Selene contest. So the brochure says.

The closer Gerry gets to Evelyn, the more he is convinced she’s hiding something. His meticulous character sparks with her wild, sassy nature, and they embark on a torrid affair. Their forbidden romance isn’t the only thing set to ignite in Pont de Reves.

Sebastian’s infatuation with demure Claire Villiers, another contestant, threatens to put all four of them in harm’s way.

A deadly trail of corporate conspiracy, monstrous assassins and hot bikini wax is more than anyone bargained for in this incendiary erotic mystery. Get ready for some serious heat on the dark side of the moon.

EXCERPT:
Evelyn’s self-esteem soared like a rocket into space as she gazed into Gerry’s dark blue eyes. All the need and desire that filled him shone through. She liked him, maybe even more than that if she were honest, and had wanted him from the moment his pompous ass walked into her hotel room. Being with him and initiating sex tonight was the right thing for her to do.

Gerry wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her closer, as if he sensed how frail she was at that moment.

A sigh escaped her. Damn, his hard chest felt good against her achy boobs, but not as good as his rigid cock nestling into her belly.

“Evie—"

“Don’t talk.” She hadn’t heard that name in a long time, not since her father was murdered.

He nodded and traced his index finger along her bottom lip. She nipped the tip, then sucked it in, tonguing the pad until he groaned.

“Ah, Ev—” He caught her face in both of his hands and kissed her with a passion that ignited her like none other.

His tongue toyed against the seam of her mouth and she willingly opened to welcome him. He delved in, a beautiful taste of wine and herbs, lapping and swirling until her knees trembled. With a regretful sigh, she pulled away.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Shh. No talking. It’s my little quirk.” She gently tapped his mouth, then took his hand and led him closer to the purple sand. After she stooped, she patted the floor, inviting him to join her. He made short work of sprawling out and laid his arms at his sides.

Evelyn rose up on her knees and combed her hands down his chest, flicking his nipples until they sprang to life. Intrigued by their stiff peaks, she swiped her tongue over her dry lips and leaned into him, licking and sucking the copper-colored discs.

She continued lower to the blond tuft cradling his cock. Gently, she glided her thumb over his swollen head, teasing the drops of pre-cum from the slit to the sensitive underside. Her other hand cupped his balls, rolling the tight sacs with her fingers, taking pleasure in her teasing.

His hips jerked with each light touch. He fisted his hands and dug his heels into the floor. Through hooded eyes, he watched, but did as she had requested and maintained silence.

On a rush of air, she gave his lips a quick peck and eased over him, holding her thighs tight against his lean frame. Heat emanated from his body, soothing and stimulating, a new awareness she longed to experience more than just once.

Her breasts swayed mere inches from his mouth. He stretched up and tweaked her pebbled nipples with his thumbs and index fingers. Cuddling them together, he licked and suckled the sensitive tips, first one, then the other. A deep shiver rocketed through her, increasing the ache low in her belly.

She teased his cock along her nether lips, loving the feel of his hot flesh grazing against her clit. In slow motion, she edged onto his shaft, savoring the inches that penetrated her wet vagina.

He rocked into her, clutching her hips, holding her in place. She locked her hands around his wrists and pulled them away, the need to set the pace paramount.
Time stood still. The only sounds in the room were their pants and grunts as they ground against each other. He stopped mid-thrust, his face set in a grimace.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “This is so sexy I don’t want to come.”

“I do.” She slapped his hip. “Again and again.”

Rising up on her knees, Evelyn again found her momentum and rode him harder, faster, loving the feel of him pounding inside her. Her breath hitched as he thrust higher, deeper, tapping her womb, the sensation sublime...

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I'll be back tomorrow with a new book by Ginger Simpson. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2010-11-29T05:59:00.000-08:00

JOURNEY TO THE DARK SIDE

Every once in a while I love to delve into the past with a good historical/medieval read. Linda Sole, prolific author with over 70 books to her credit, is just the author to hold me captive.

Love Hate & Betrayal (The Apothecary) is a medieval story which suits the title and a book you'll enjoy. Melloria is driven out into the snow when her husband’s castle is stormed. Big with child and close to her time, she collapses outside the gates of Nicholas Malvern’s manor house. Nicholas is the Apothecary, but he is suspected of using the dark arts.

LOVE HATE & BETRAYAL - THE APOTHCARY
Linda Sole
Amazon

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Yorkshire, in the year of Our Lord 1254

“I curse you, Montroy,” she cried in a loud voice that carried to every corner of the hall. “For what you have done this day, I curse all those who serve you. You have murdered my brother and you will live to regret every drop of the precious blood you spilled. When my husband returns to England, you will die, as you deserve.”

“Daubeney deserved his fate.” The Earl of Montroy leaped to his feet. “Your husband murdered my brother and I vowed revenge. Now it is taken.”

“You are a liar,” the woman cried. “My husband killed your brother in fair fight by the laws of combat. You were not in England. You did not know that your brother was convicted of treason. He was given the choice to die at the block or prove his innocence in a fight to the death. My husband was the King’s champion. Now my brother is dead at your hands. I curse you and all your descendants. You murdered him and many of my people lie dead this day. The blood of innocents stains your hands. May your sins find you out and may you die in agony of body and mind…”

“Damn you! Be quiet woman,” the earl thundered down at her. “I gave orders to let you live for you are but a woman and with child but if you continue to plague me with your curses I shall have you hung – as the sorceress some claim you are.”

He turned to his men-at-arms, who stood poised and waiting. “Cast her out of the castle and if she returns you have my permission to put her to the sword.” There was a murmur of dissent from some of the company, and men looked at one another, shame and fear in their eyes. “Do as I say, damn you.”

“She has powers of witchcraft, my lord,” one man spoke up at last. “None here dare kill her.”

“Fools! Every last one of you. Give me my sword and I will do it myself.” He grasped the heavy broadsword that he had earlier used to kill the young knight. The blade still stained with blood of the youth’s followers as he raised it high above his head. Yet when the woman looked up, something held his arm. Suddenly, his sword was so heavy he could not move it.

“I shall leave this accursed place. There is nothing here for me now,” she said, her voice softer now, dangerous, filled with hatred. “Think of me when you lie sleepless, Montroy, and remember. My husband will avenge my brother and me…”

The countess turned and left Montroy standing there with his arms raised above his head unable to move until she had left the hall. The sword fell from his hands, a crippling pain curled up his left arm. He bent double as the pain seemed to crush his chest; his eyes rolled, he fell to the ground and lay kicking and foaming at the mouth.

“It be not witchcraft, but a seizure,” she cried. “He is overcome by weariness from battle. Carry your lord to his chamber and put him to bed. Let the physicians tend him and if the Lord wills it he may recover.”

Melloria had known she risked death by returning to curse Montroy, but her heart was filled with bitterness toward the man. If only her husband had not gone to Spain. The earl would have resisted any siege, but with the lord gone they had been vulnerable. The men had fought hard but Peter had responded to Montroy’s offer to talk and been betrayed by a callous devil who disregarded the white flag to overrun their defenses. Montroy was ruthless but for one moment as she looked into his eyes she had known that despite his bold talk he feared her.

The snow penetrated the soles of her shoes, dampness soaking through the fine leather, but she no longer felt the cold. Covered from head to ankle in the thick, fur lined cloak, her body was insulated from the bitter weather, but the rest of her had long since become numb. Any tears she might have shed had dried, her mind empty of all but the hatred that drove her on through the icy wind and the softly falling snow. The Abbey of Saint Innocent was but thirty leagues from her home. There she could find shelter, someone to help her through the birth of her child, which was imminent – someone to care for the babe if she died.

Pain swept through Melloria, engulfing her body. She had been blocking out the ache in her back for hours but this was such agony that she could not ignore it. Giving a cry of fear, she clutched at her belly. The pain was almost unbearable but she must bear it. There was a way to go yet to reach the Abbey and sanctuary.

The snow lay thickly, covering the moors. The hem of her gown trailed on the ground, soaked as ice clung to it. Ahead of her, lay a dark shape; one large building surrounded by a huddle of outbuildings. Was it the Abbey? Was she closer than she had thought? She moved forward eagerly. Here was warmth and comfort, a bed where she could give birth to her son.

As she saw the building more clearly, her heart sank. This was not the Abbey but a large manor house. She did not know who lived within its forbidding walls. She moved towards the high gates made of wood banded with iron and, as she tried them, locked against her.

“Help me…please help me…” Her pride gave before the overwhelming pain as she sank to her knees, tears trickling down her cheeks.

She was falling into a pit of burning coals, the pain more terrible than before. She gave one despairing scream then crumpled into a heap on the icy ground.

“Here Brutus! Come I say!” the man commanded in a tone the great brute of a dog could not ignore. “Cedric, what have you found?”

“It is a woman, my lord.” The keeper of the hounds bent to investigate. “I think she lives yet…” He gave a cry as he turned her. “She is with child, Sire, and close to her time. I think her waters have broken.”

Nicholas Malvern bent to pluck the woman from the snow, a frown making his scarred face fearsome as he saw she was close to death.

“God’s Body! She is gentle born. What madness drove such a woman to my gates on a night like this?”

It was not a question his vassals dare answer for in truth no woman in her right mind would seek this house whether it be in sunlight or darkness. Nicholas knew he was dreaded, hated by many; even those who served him lived in fear of shadows for they did not understand him; though each and every one had come here more dead than alive and been saved. It was whispered that he was a sorcerer; some accused him of necromancy and the black arts, and some thought him the Devil incarnate. Only the dregs of mankind with nowhere else to go would stay near him save for a few devoted servants.

As he strode up the stairs leading to his chambers none followed. Nicholas took the woman to a bedchamber close by his own. He had allowed no one to use it since she died – the one woman he had loved and the woman he had killed. He had not ventured here since they had torn her body from his arms…

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To learn more about Linda and her work, check out her website.

I'll be back tomorrow. Until then...

Happy Reading!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2010-11-24T04:57:00.000-08:00

THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

is the latest release from Sam Cheever. Definitely a book you will not want to miss.

In case you're not familiar with Sam, this excellent story teller is an award winning author of more than 20 works of fiction. Sam mixes in a little fun, a little adventure, and a little real-life spice to create her sexy fantasy and romantic suspense stories. Her fictional peeps fight their way through a dizzying array of challenges without letting little things like treacherous villains, vicious monsters, or manipulative gods dampen their zest for life and hot love!

In real life, Sam lives on a hobby farm in Indiana with 8 dogs, 4 horses, 2 barn cats, 2 daughters, and one husband. She writes books she likes to read and reads books she wishes she’d written. Her books are fast paced and fun loving. Not one of them will solve a single world problem, but you definitely won’t be bored while reading them!

Here's a taste from Sam's uber hot new novel.

THE DEVIL YOU KNOW
Sam Cheever
ISBN: 9781419931215
Ellora's Cave

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BLURB:
Astra Q Phelps is turning twenty-five in a few months and she’s starting to feel the effects of her Settling, the time when a half angel, half devil Tweener decides whether to embrace her dark nature or her light.

The delectable Dialle, king of the Royal devils, really needs Astra’s help in Hell to deal with an insurrection. But Astra’s Settling pretty much has her thinking of only one thing−S.E.X!

Sex with Dialle—sex with her yummy partner, Emo—sex with a molten hot dragon slayer she meets along the way—and sex with assorted other randy Royals cavorting among the fires of Hell. It’s a constant struggle just to keep her mind and body pure so she can concentrate on the business at hand, but Astra Q Phelps is definitely up for the challenge. And Good versus Evil has never been this much fun!

EXCERPT:
The water was hot enough to sting the center of my low back when I stepped into it, but I quickly got used to it and it felt wonderful. The pool was hip deep, and there was a wide, flat rock on one side I could sit on.

I groaned with pleasure and lay on my back for a long moment, just floating on the surface. My hair floated lazily around my head in the hot, mineralized water.

My muscles started to loosen and my mind wandered, at first considering the problems facing Glynus. But those thoughts quickly morphed to the Slayer. I realized with a jolt that I didn’t even know his name. I needed a name if I was gonna fantasize about throwing him to the floor and ravishing him.

Or did I?

My mind formed a picture of him and then set about stripping him naked, imagining the finely sculpted muscles and nicely packaged sexuality of a perfect male creature.

There was little chance he’d fit my mental description, but it didn’t matter, since it was purely an academic exercise. I had no intention of finding out what he looked like naked for real.

I floated happily, a grin on my face, and pictured him bending over me, his full, soft lips touching mine, pulling my breath away and sending spirals of delight to tighten at my sexual core.

My pussy clenched hopefully at the thought, and my nipples peaked. I reached up and covered my breasts with my palms, pulling on my nipples. Pleasure spiked in my belly and moved lower, to pulse in my throbbing clitoris.

I visualized his hot mouth moving from my lips to capture a rigid nipple, sucking it deep into the heated cave of his mouth and favoring it with long, slow pulls that tugged directly on my pleasure core, as if a thread of sensual desire attached the two parts of my passion-charged body.

My tongue came out and swept across my lips, tasting his imagined kisses there. One hand slid across the wet surface of my belly and disappeared in the curls covering my moist core. I touched my pulsing clit and moaned, nearly sinking as my body stiffened in delight.

Placing my free hand on the flat rock under the water’s surface, I regained my balance and renewed attentions to my clit. With every squeeze on the throbbing nub, bright tendrils of sensual expectation flared, until my toes curled and my muscles clenched in anticipation of the building release.

I played his face through my mind, savoring the hard angles of his jaw and the soft outline of his full lips. My traitorous psyche filled in the outlines with hot, knee-melting detail and went farther, drawing the silhouette of his broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long, muscular legs.

When my mind got to the shoulder length, silky black hair and long-lashed blue eyes I realized, with a start, that I was picturing Dialle. He’d nudged into my subconscious and shoved the other guy right out when I wasn’t looking.

I embraced the change, feeling the guilt I’d been ignoring at the back of my subconscious sliding away to leave only delight as my fingers worked their magic and built the pleasure to a tipping point. I thought about Dialle’s scent, his heated touch, how his cock felt sliding deep within my dripping pussy. How he made that little sound in his throat when I pulled his cock deep into my throat…

The sound of the waterfall was thunderous. It gave me the sensation of being in a cocoon, alone, free to do only as I wished.

So when I heard the clearing of a throat it was a shock. Beyond a shock. My eyes flew open and I shrieked, losing my balance on the top of the water. I sank to the bottom like a rock, sucking a mouthful of water down my throat in the process.

I came up spitting and spraying water, embarrassed, humiliated, and angrier than I’d ever been. Forgetting for a moment that I was naked I surged to my feet and faced him, fists clenched at my sides.

The Slayer’s face was completely without expression, and he held a bundle of clothing in his hands. “Sorry, I did call out several times but you didn’t respond. I thought maybe you’d drowned.” Something flashed quickly through his eyes as his gaze slid down my dripping form. Something hot and…hungry.

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To find out more about Sam and her work, please pay her a visit at any one of the following online hot spots: her website; Facebook; MySpace; or her blog. She always loves to chat with readers.

Happy Thnksgiving to all my USA friends!

I'll be back Monday. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2010-11-22T06:26:00.000-08:00

FOR DELIGHTFUL READS

check out Raine Delight , a superb author with an imagination you will definitely enjoy. Here is her latest;

FAIRY KISSES & MAGICAL DREAMS
Raine Delight
ISBN 978-1-60168-153-9
Aspen Mountain Press

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BLURB:
Prince Aryan has searched his world for the one woman that is his destined mate but has just about given up when he is led to the human world. Even though it is forbidden to fall in love with a human, he finds Skye Andrews completely delectable and wonders if she is his chosen love.

Skye Andrews has had it with men. After another disastrous date, her aunt gives her a love potion to try. With a magic spell and a mysterious face haunting her waking days, will Skye find the love she is looking for?

EXCERPT:
I must be insane to think a magic potion will help me find my own Mr. Right. Why is it I can’t find the one man who loves me? Skye got her things ready and stepped into the bathroom. All my friends have someone and here I’m still looking for that one man to steal my soul with his kisses.

Why is it I only seem to attract the ones who were either married, a playboy or a rat in sheep’s clothing? Skye thought. I know I’m not bad looking. I’m not a typical blond, bubbly type of person, who has guys buzzing around them like bees at a flower. Why is it I only seem to attract the wrong type of guys? Do I have Losers please apply stamped on my forehead?

Looking in the mirror as she undressed, Skye saw a woman with shoulder length, flame red hair, violet eyes, and a heart shaped face with full lips. As her shirt came off and bared her to the mirror, she saw her full breasts. The bane of her teenage years, she was sure they’d fit in the right man’s hands. Her flat stomach tapered down into her long lean legs. Turning to check the water temperature, she caught sight of her dimpled ass in the reflection. Groaning softly, Skye wished she had one that made men want to grab it, but hundreds of butt crunches didn’t make a difference.

Sliding into the water, she moaned softly as the heat soothed her stiff muscles. She made another wish to find her true love before the end of the month and finished the last of her wine. Where is the one man who will turn my life inside out and capture my heart?

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There are many places to catch up with Raine and her excellent work. Here are a few; website, Raine's Book Nook Blog , Author Reader Loop, and Twitter.

Raine loves to hear from readers. Feel free to email her any time.

I'll be back Wednesday. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2010-11-18T06:56:00.000-08:00

OUT ON THE NET

Rick R. Reed has done it again, created a book apropos for today's world and rich with meaning. OUT ON THE NET follows the journey of one man in the modern world to find love.

This poignant book is a must read and one you will enjoy.

OUT ON THE NET
Rick R. Reed
ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-017-7
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure

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BLURB:
Ray Tolliver has bad timing. Cold feet? It doesn’t get much worse than accepting you’re gay twenty minutes before your wedding to a woman, yet that’s just what happens.

Join Ray as he recounts in his blog the hilarious and touching events that lead him on a journey toward true love. Although he goes looking for love in all the wrong places, will he eventually find another man who wants more than just quick sex? A man who appreciates romance, hearts, and flowers? Or will he find that self-acceptance and bliss do not always go hand-in-hand?

And what of Alice, Ray’s lovely, jilted fiancée? Will she find it in her heart to forgive the man who left her at the altar?

These questions and more are answered in this unique love story, told in the form of blog entries. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, but you’ll come away from Out On the Net with a renewed appreciation for the power and difficulties of loving not only others, but yourself.

EXCERPT:

Blog Entry #2: An Explanation

Before I get any further into my little tale of woe, it’s only fair that I tell you a bit about myself, aside from the “about me” crap you can read to the right of this blog. First off, I am a gay man. I am thirty years old, now single, and as far as sex with men goes, I am still a virgin (if you discount the groping my next-door neighbor Keith and I did that one summer in the abandoned shack in the woods when we were twelve). I am considered good-looking by some, average by my own estimation. I am five feet ten inches tall and weigh 165 pounds. I have dark brown hair, green eyes, and an olive complexion I inherited from my mom, who is of Sicilian lineage. I work in an industrial pottery in the small Ohio River town where I live, seven a.m. to three p.m. every day. I use a hose to guide liquid clay into molds that eventually become things like vases, urns, and decorative decanters. I have a high school education and two years of community college. I have lived in my small town of 12,000 all of my life.

Why am I writing a blog? Why am I baring my soul on the Internet? To get attention? Because I’m a fool? Because I’m a frustrated writer? Well, all of those things have some validity and they play into my rationale. But the real reason I wanted to put this thing up for public consumption is really pretty selfless—I want to help other people like myself not make the same mistakes I have. So if you’re out there and reading this on your Mac or your PC, I want to help you. If you’re hiding from who you really are, I hope to shed some light on that person buried in the back of the closet. I want you to know that it might be hard to come out, but it’s not impossible.

And the air out here is actually a lot easier to breathe.

I want you to know that being gay is not a choice. I had once thought that. I thought if I dated girls, got married, and did all the things society told me I was supposed to do, I would be okay. Those dreams and fantasies I had about guys would fade away as I became more entrenched in the world everyone seems to consider “normal.” Ever heard the advice: ‘fake it ‘til you make it’? I did. I thought it would work for me.

It didn’t and doesn’t.

So if my little chronicle here of my painful odyssey out of the closet gives you some pause and maybe prevents you from making one wrong turn away from being who you really are, then maybe this blog isn’t such a bad idea.

It’s simple, really. We are all who we are. Nothing more, nothing less. If you’re religious? Hey, I can relate. I was brought up in the Church (and in my family “Church” means only one: Catholic) and know a little bit about guilt and “sinning in one’s heart.” But in spite of all the dogma I absorbed growing up, I still stick with the credo I saw on a bumper sticker a few days ago—“God loves everyone. No exceptions.”

And if God can love you, you can love yourself.

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I'll be back Friday. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com

2010-11-15T05:58:00.001-08:00

FALL UNDER HER SPELL

with our featured author and good friend Tabitha Shay.

Tabitha is the author of paranormal romances, Witch’s Brew, Witch’s Heart, Witch‘s Moon, Witch’s Magic, and Witch’s Fire.

Her books have been nominated for several awards, including the prestigious P.E.A.R.L. Award for Witch’s Magic and Witch’s Moon. Both were nominated for Best All Around Paranormal in 2008.

Tabitha is also the author of the Montana Men, a contemporary western romance series.

Jaydyn Chelcee is Tabitha's other pen name and has three terrific books to her credit, In the Arms of Danger, No Holds Barred and Too Close to the Fire .

Now, please allow me to give you a glimpse into the wonderful world of Tabitha Shay.

WITCH'S FIRE
Tabitha Shay
ISBN: 1451509723
Moongypsy Press

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BLURB:
In a world where magic is dying―two people meet under unusual circumstances…

REALM OF LIGHT―New to this witchy stuff, Kirrah Walker crashes her broom into a stranger and knocks him unconscious. Feeling guilty, she takes him home with her and nurses him back to health. However, she soon discovers a terrible secret―the stranger is on a mission to assassinate a witch. Now Kirrah must decide if she’ll set him free or keep him tied to the headboard of her bed…

WORLD OF DARKNESS―Prince Stry, future King of Ru-Noc awakens to find he’s not only a captive, but captivated by the charming witch who flutters around him like a nervous butterfly. Her magick is wild and so out of control, he knows in his heart he should steal her soul, but kissing Kirrah is habit-forming.

Kirrah and Stry―magical beings who must face the fear of their past, acknowledge their future and trust in destiny in a world gone mad…

EXCERPT:
She sighed, shoved up her sleeves and went to work dragging off his low-heeled boots and socks. Carefully, she swung his legs onto the bed. Only―somehow her legs tangled with his. She stumbled and fell clumsily across the poor man’s chest.

His eyes flew open. A half-smile flirted at the corners of his mouth. Kirrah glared at him. How the heck did he manage to look so darned sexy with a big ole’ purple bruise fanning over his right eye?

Slowly, he slid his arms around her hips and squeezed her buttocks. “Well, hel-lo.”

Kirrah widened her eyes. Oh, crap, that’s all she needed, a concussed Romeo with a sexy voice hot enough to curl her toes and set her thighs on fire, a voice that both compelled and could easily lead a woman astray.

The man looked at her as if he’d never seen her before and had just discovered his favorite eye-candy. “Aren’t you just a sweet little beauty?” he purred, sounding for all the world like a hungry cat whose appetite had just been satisfied. A big, dopey, contented cat.

Sweet little beauty? She blinked. Oh, yeah, the man was definitely off his meds. Obviously he was no stranger to seduction 101, either, if the way he massaged her butt was anything to go by.

And damn, did he have to have such dreamy bedroom eyes? Tiny gold specks sparkled like angel dust in the warm amber depths. Thick gold tipped lashes completed the allure of his heavy lidded gaze. He had the kind of gold-flecked irises that attracted a woman and sucked her right in.

He might as well wear a sign around his neck that read: Come and get it, sinful indulgence right here! And boy was she ready to go get it.

Her brows knitted together in a deep scowl. What was wrong with her? All of a sudden her hormones were out of control? She wondered if her face was as red as it felt. Since she had red hair, her complexion was the fair one typical of redhead’s. She blushed as easily as she sunburned.

His gaze wondered from her hair to her lips. Oh, my. Those tiger-colored eyes fixed on her mouth. He licked his lips as though he’d just discovered a delicious snack he contemplated nibbling on.

Startled, Kirrah gasped as he suddenly tugged her closer.

Her hands splayed across his wide chest. “Uh-Mr. Wa-Wa, I think you might be getting a tad bit carried away here. Unhand me.”

“No.” One hand slid up her back and his fingers curled around her nape holding her in place. “I don’t think I should do that at all. You belong to me,” he whispered, and took her mouth.

That was the only word for it. Took. He ravaged her mouth with a slow steamy gut-wrenching kiss. Warm and wet. Hot and melting. Yum. He might be half-dead, but he had a mouth to die for and he knew how to use it.

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Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com