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."

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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

TURN UP THE HEAT

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



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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…


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

Happy Reading.

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

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



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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.”

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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

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



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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.

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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

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