You might be addicted to books if…

from C.D. Hersh 

We came across the following quote that made us pause and reflect. Let’s see if you have the same reaction.

 

An ordinary man can…surround himself with two thousand books… and thenceforward have at least one place in the world in which it is possible to be happy. Augustine Birrell

We don’t know about you, but the thought of surrounding ourselves with two thousand books makes us very happy. We love to read, we love books, and we love to surround ourselves with books of all kinds. If you could see into our offices, we definitely have two thousand books and that not including the library of paper backs in the basement that we’ve mentioned before. This obsessiveness is probably from even if we haven’t read a book, we can rarely bear to part with it. This was especially hard when we closed up Donald’s parents’ things and their various books. Dad’s were texts on music and electronics with mom’s being about music and cooking. The cookbooks were kept but the other’s that were texts got passed on to Goodwill. 

What about you? Does your passion for books border on the obsessive?

You might be addicted to books if…

• You never sign off your Kindle/Nook without downloading a book. 

 • You never leave a bookstore without buying a book. 

• You read multiple books at any given time. 

• There’s a book—or more—in every bathroom, by every easy chair, and on your nightstand or you carry your Kindle/Nook from place to place. 

• Perhaps you have a reading app on your phone to fill in time while you wait in line for that special cup of coffee. 

• There’s no such thing as taking out only ONE book at a time from the library. 

• The librarian knows you by name. 

• Your paperbacks are stacked two deep on your shelves. 

• You had to buy a Kindle AND a Nook because you’ve run out of shelf and floor space in your office. 

• Your friends think you are their personal lending library. 

• You get so lost in a book that you don’t hear your name being called. 

• Engrossed in the book you don’t hear the oven timer and burn a meal. 

• You read while walking down the street. 

• You’ve actually created furniture using your books. 

 • You have every book your favorite authors have ever written and eagerly await their next releases.

We have done all these things at one time or another, and must admit …. we’re addicted to books. How about you? 

Now kick back, relax and pick up a good book to read. 

Putting words and stories on paper is second nature to co-authors C.D. Hersh. They've written separately since they were teenagers and discovered their unique, collaborative abilities in the mid-90s. As high school sweethearts and husband and wife, Catherine and Donald believe in true love and happily ever after, and that’s why they write romance.

In addition to writing Catherine and Donald love antiquing, traveling, singing, and going to the theatre. Catherine is also an avid gardener and has drawn Donald into her garden as a day laborer. They figure the couple who plays together and works together, stays together—and that's just what they aim to do.

Second Editions Coming Soon:

Ghosts and Gardenias

The Promised One The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 1
Blood Brothers The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 2
Son of the Moonless Night The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 3
The Mercenary and the Shifters The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 4

Social Media Info:

Website

Blog

Facebook

Amazon Author Page

Twitter

Goodreads

SWEET DEAL FOR MUSA PUBLISHING

Musa Publishing has announced they will publish Who Wacked Roger Rabbit? by author Gary K. Wolf, the third book featuring Wolf’s iconic character, Roger Rabbit, and the denizens of Toontown.

Who Wacked Roger Rabbit? is the culmination of a twenty year wait for fans of the world that Wolf first created in his 1981 Hugo-winning Who Censored Roger Rabbit? The third installment in the series has been promised to fans for a long time but never released. Now, with the 25th anniversary of Who Framed Roger Rabbit? on the horizon in 2013 and and confirmation of a completed Roger Rabbit 2 script by director Robert Zemeckis last week stirring up excitement among Roger Rabbit fans, the collaboration between Wolf and Musa is coming at a significant time.

“I could easily have published Who Wacked Roger Rabbit? through a major print publishing house. Instead, I choose to make this the first book of the Roger Rabbit series to be published digitally,” Wolf states. “That decision evolves directly from the way I work, from the core philosophy of what I write and why I write it. I always push the boundaries in my writing. I invent worlds that nobody else ever thought about. I create unique characters and situations. I try to always be at the forefront of my craft. That includes the way my writing is presented to my readers. Digital publishing is clearly the future. It’s the way books are headed, so I’m heading that way, too.”

With his first book at Musa, The Late Great Show!, released in October and his second novel, Typical Day, coming out on December 7, Wolf is no stranger to the Musa system. “I especially like the way Musa has taken digital publishing into areas that I never thought of. Using proprietary software, I’m able to interact with them electronically in real time. My editor, the publicity department, the art department, and everybody else involved with my work all have instant access to everything I submit. And vice versa.”

With the release of Who Wacked Roger Rabbit? set for November of 2013, Musa and Wolf are poised to gratify millions of Roger Rabbit fans across the world. The entertainment franchise is worth over $500,000,000 and the fandom is as eager as ever to follow their beloved Roger Rabbit and Eddie Valiant into new adventures—including e-publishing.

“Digital publishing is the wave of the future, and I’ve always been a wave of the future kind of guy,” Wolf states matter-of-factly. “For me, going digital wasn’t in any way a last resort. It was a necessity.”

Gary Wolf is the NYT Bestselling author of numerous book, articles, and short stories including Who Censored Roger Rabbit?, Who P-P-P-Plugged Roger Rabbit?, Space Vulture, and The Late Great Show! His movie credits include Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, the three Roger Rabbit cartoons Tummy Trouble, Rollercoaster Rabbit, and Trail Mix-up, and—coming in 2014—screen adaptations of his science fiction novels The Resurrectionist and Killerball. Awards for Wolf’s work include the Hugo Award, British Science Fiction Award, SF Chronicle Award, and 4 Academy Awards. Wolf is an avid Yoga enthusiast and lives in Boston where he is a full-time author, screenwriter, lecturer, entertainment consultant, and consummate “grown-up kid.” Look for his next Roger Rabbit installment to be released November, 2013 by Musa Publishing.

The Late Great Show! and Typical Day are available through Musa Publishing, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble.

To Comma, or not to Comma? That is the Question

Webster defines a comma as a punctuation mark, used especially as a mark of separation within a sentence. Doesn’t that definition just clear it all up for you? If so, you’re lucky because it never did for me. Back to my Writer’s Bible, “The Elements of Style”.

Here’s the skinny; there are seven comma rules. We’ll take them out of order for simplicity.

1 – Dates are written as;

• Jan. 24, 2006.
• 24 Jan. 2006.
In the second example no comma is used.

2 – In a series of three or more terms with a single conjunction, the commas are placed as follows;

• I enjoy tennis, skiing, and books.
• Jason, Fred, and Esther went to the farm.

You can’t drop the last comma. I don’t know, maybe the Punctuation Police force you to repeat English 101 for eternity if you do.

The exception is if you’re writing a business name. The last comma is omitted.

• Jefferson, Clemmons, Blake and Company

3 – Use a comma before and/or after a proper name or place;

• “Hi, John.”
• “Hey, John, did you see the dog?”
• Munich, Germany

4 - A comma is inserted before a conjunction introducing an independent clause;

• She was in a situation which should have scared the hell out of her, but didn’t.
• In no time the airplane landed, and the passengers clapped with joy.

5 – Don’t use a comma to join independent clauses. If the clauses are grammatically complete and not joined by a conjunction, it’s the semicolon’s time to come out and play.

• It is nearly half past five; we cannot reach town before dark.

6 – Don’t break sentences in two. Meaning, don’t use periods when you should use a comma. “The Elements of Style” have the best examples;

• I met them on a Cunard liner many years ago. Coming home from Liverpool.
• She was an interesting talker. A woman who had traveled all over the world and lived in half a dozen countries.

The sentences don’t make sense as written. In both examples a comma should replace the first period.

If you want more dramatic effect in your sentence do the following;

• He yanked the cell phone from his pocket and punched in the number. The phone rang. No one answered.

Don’t use the above example often in your story, it has a choppy effect and the editor won’t like it, let alone the reader. Clipped sentences, as the above example, are more often used in dialogue.

7 – Enclose parenthetic expressions between commas. A parenthetic expression is a word, phrase, or sentence inserted in a passage to explain or modify the thought. Again from “The Elements of Style”;

• The best way to see the country, unless you are pressed for time, is to travel on foot.

In a nutshell here’s how it works for the author;

• The eight rules are standard and must be followed so you look like a professional writer.
• My guru Beth Anderson taught me to listen to the flow of the words. Use the commas when you need the reader to pause and give them a little time to prepare for what’s next.
• Use common sense. As you apply the rules they will become second nature.

Have a terrific weekend. I'll be back Monday with Cornell DeVille, author of chilling young adult books. Be sure to stop in. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
www.sloanetaylor.com

So You Want To Be An Author Part Two

You’ve written your characterization and now you’re good to go. Wrong!

Time to consider the back-story. What’s back-story? It’s the life chronicle of your characters. All of your characters. Every person in your novel has a past which is why you wrote characterizations. They think, feel, and act based on their history just as we do.

If you don’t have critique partners, get some. Not your mom or best friend. They truly can’t be objective. Hook up with writer’s groups, workmates willing to share their opinions, or friend who love to read. Empower them to be honest. You’ll be glad you did.

My CPs are always willing to read a member’s work and constructively correct the flaws at any time. They’re also brutal about sloughing off. Back when I was green and dumb, Beth Anderson took me under her wing. She sent me an insightful e-mail after reading my first chapter.

“A suggestion is to perhaps cut the back-story a little. I’d like to see your heroine’s issues be a mystery to me as a reader. After reading the first chapter there’s no mystery. I understand her, I understand her issues, and I know her history. Let her be more of a mystery, don’t tell me everything, let it come out in dribs and drabs.” Beth’s words made me think.

At our next meeting I broached the subject. Melissa Bradley, an author and friend who speaks her mind, said it was “too much, waaaay to soon”. Of course, the others agreed. These buds made me think even more and to these authors I am forever grateful.

This is what I finally learned;

If little Johnny peed his pants in third grade and the teacher shamed him in front of his class, readers don’t care. It’s only important as a brief mention or a thought timely planted in the story. Johnny knows what he did and the reader only wants an indication if it brings out some deep dark secret which leads him to act as he does in your book.

This is what I finally figured out to correct my problem;

1 - List all the high points from your characterization. (Don’t panic; remember on Thursday we’ll discuss characterization.) Skip the height, weight, etc. You only want the important events, ie;

a. Johnny peed his pants
b. He feels shame whenever he wears brown
c. He won’t talk in front of groups
d. He has a fear of public bathrooms

Get the idea?

2 – Write your story and drop in a line of back-story here and there but only where it’s appropriate.

3 – Cross out the line from your list after you use it and note in the margin which page it’s on.

This method taught me to sprinkle in the back-story for the proper effect and not put the reader in a coma.

There will be pages in your book with plenty of back-story, but if the timing’s right it’s perfect.

Have a wonderful weekend. I’ll be back Monday with Paul Stansfield and his exciting suspense book DEAD RECKONING. Until then…

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
www.facebook.com/AuthorSloaneTaylor

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

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

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...

BUY LINK

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

IT'S HERE!

Caesar's Fall, book 3 in the Elliott Smith Series, by acclaimed mystery author Dorien Grey!

This powerful novel tells the story of Elliott's new neighbor, Bruno, an average guy who suddenly finds himself the winner of a $57 million lottery. Elliott tries to protect him from the predators and con men who circle and scheme to get the money. Following a tragic death, Elliott again joins forces with his friend, John, to determine if the death was an accident or a murder, while juggling his restoration work on a classic old building and his developing relationship with painter Steve Gutierrez.

CAESAR'S FALL
Dorien Grey
ISBN 978-1-936144-08-2 Print
ISBN 978-1-936144-09-9 Ebook
Zumaya Boundless



BUY LINK AMAZON Print Book
BUY LINK Ebook


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.

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:
They arrived at Bruno's at eight-forty-five. As usual, the kitchen door was slightly ajar and the front door partially open. They walked in to find fifteen or twenty people already scattered around the living room, dining alcove, kitchen, and even in the hallway leading to the den and bedrooms. Elliott immediately spotted Cage, Ralph, Chaz, Bruno's "sensei" Clifford Blanton, and several other people he recognized as regulars at Bruno's parties.

But there were, as always, several people he had never seen before, and he again wondered where they came from.

Bruno and Ricky were standing by the dining room table, which had several wrapped gifts on it, talking with Paul and the as-always impeccably dressed Button.

Walking over to greet them and to wish Ricky a happy birthday, Elliott casually laid the envelope next to the other gifts. He'd not seen Rudy but assumed he was coming, and knowing Bruno was probably already worried about a possible confrontation, he didn't want to ask.

"Please," Bruno said, "go get a drink and something to eat."

Rolling the ice cubes around in the bottom of his glass, Button drained the last of his and said, "Allow me to show you the way. Excuse us, all."

As he turned toward the bar, two people Elliott didn't recognize but who had apparently just come in approached the table with an ornately wrapped gift.

He and Steve followed Button to the bar, pausing to exchange a few words with various other guests. Steve pointed out the large buffet spread out on a pair of tablecloth-covered card tables near the bar.

"My God, there's enough food there to feed the Sixth Fleet."

"We should be so lucky!" Button observed. While they waited for the bartender to finish making drinks for the man in front of them, he turned to Elliott and said, "It's none of my business, of course, but do I detect a hint of trouble in Paradise?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Bruno seems a little…on edge…tonight. Very unlike him. I really hope he and Ricky aren't having problems already. Bruno seems truly devoted to him, but you know how these young kids are."

"I'm sure it's nothing," Elliott said. "Everybody has an off day every now and then."

Button pursed his lips and looked from Elliott to Steve.

"I'm sure you're right," he said, but he did not sound totally convinced.

Paul came over to join them just as they were giving their drink orders to the bartender, and a moment later, Ricky also joined the group. Glancing toward the dining alcove and the gift table, Elliott saw no sign of Bruno.

"A very nice party, Ricky," Steve said.

Ricky grinned. "It is, isn't it? This is my first real birthday party ever! Of course, I don't know very many of the people here, but it's still nice."

"Interesting centerpiece," Steve said, indicating the buffet table where a circular flower arrangement surrounded an empty champagne bottle with a lit white candle dripping small rivulets of different colors over the bottle as it melted.

Blushing, Ricky said "Bruno did that for me. It's the first bottle of champagne we shared, and I kept it. I love it with the candle!"

Elliott smiled to himself when he detected the distinct aroma of Old Spice. Bruno's influence, he assumed.

"Where did Bruno disappear to?" Button asked, looking around the room.

"Rudy came in, and Bruno said he wanted to talk to him privately. I guess they went into the den."

That was quick.

"Well, I wouldn't let you out of my sight for a second," Button said, laying his hand lightly on Ricky's arm. "A roving band of gypsies could come rushing in and just carry you off! Paul, where did we leave our gypsy costumes?"

* * *

Half an hour or so later, as a small circle of guests, including Ralph, Steve and Button, were talking about the Art Institute's new Modern Wing, Elliott noticed an angry-looking Rudy emerge from the hallway to Bruno's den. Motioning to an of-course-handsome young man with whom he had apparently come, he headed to the front door and left, his companion hurrying after him. A moment later, Bruno appeared, looking less than happy and, oblivious to Clifford Blanton's attempt to catch his attention as he passed, went directly to the bar.

Though Elliott hoped for a chance to talk privately with Bruno to see what had happened during his meeting with Rudy, the opportunity did not present itself. Immediately after getting his drink and speaking briefly to Ricky, Bruno withdrew to one corner of the room with Clifford Blanton for a long and apparently earnest discussion.

Bruno returned to the main group for the opening of the presents and the cutting and serving of the birthday cake, after which the crowd began to thin out. At around eleven-thirty Elliott and Steve sought out Bruno and Ricky to express their thanks and say their goodbyes. Ricky thanked them profusely for the on-order book, and Bruno told Elliott he would call him soon. From the tone in his voice, Elliott gathered he meant very soon.

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You can learn more about Dorien Grey and his awesome books on his website.

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

Happy Writing!

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

FRONT AND CENTER WITH P.A. BROWN

L.A. BYTES is the thrilling third novel in P.A. Brown’s L.A. series. This expertly written book and has an intricately woven plot that will keep you guessing until the last page.

Here's what Romance Junkies has to say:

L.A. BYTES is a gripping and captivating mystery that kept me on the edge of my seat.

Reviewer: Christina

L.A. BYTES
P.A. Brown
ISBN 978-1-60820-040-5 (print)
ISBN 978-1-60820-041-2 (ebook)
MLR Press



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EXCERPT:
David extended his card to the tiny woman with pumpkin-colored hair.

“Mrs. Crandall? Alice Crandall?”

She took the card and held it between her finger and thumb like it might be the devil’s calling card. She barely glanced at it.

Alice had been the victim’s neighbor for “nigh on five years, young man,” she told the two detectives. “That’s why I told that young pup that there was no way Nancy committed suicide. She’d have paraded naked down Glendale Boulevard sooner than she’d have killed herself.”

“We’re here to listen, Mrs. Crandall.” David tipped his head and kept his face neutral. He flipped open his notepad and wrote the day’s date. “We’d like to ask you a few questions about your neighbor, if we could. Nancy Scott was her name, is that correct?”

“Nancy Amelia Scott,” Alice said. “That was her full Christian name, rest her soul.”

“You knew her five years. Did she move in five years ago, or did you?”

“I’ve been on this same spot of earth since before my good husband Lloyd passed, nigh on eleven years ago it was, rest his soul. He was a good man. Salt of the earth.”

David scanned the room. From what he could see it looked like Alice had furnished the place during the height of the beige eighties and never recovered from it. If there was a spot of color anywhere, he couldn’t find it. “So Mrs. Scott moved in five years ago. Was she by herself?”

“That man was a saint, he was. Why, even Father Barnaby used to remark as how good he was, never drank a tipple in his life and worked until they forced him to retire at sixty-five. Not that he wanted to leave, mind you, the man loved to work, almost as much as he loved to talk—”

“Yes, Mrs. Crandall,” David said. “I’m sorry for your loss, but if you could just answer some questions about your neighbor.”

“Lloyd would have loved Nancy. She was a pious woman, never heard a curse word come out of her mouth. Even Lloyd wasn’t that good.”

“When was the last time you actually saw Mrs. Scott, ma’am?” David persisted. Patience was a virtue, his own, less than saintly, mother might have said, but there were times when patience could take a flying leap. “You mentioned her missing Mass on Sunday. So if she wasn’t there, when did you see her last?”

“Sunday Nancy always came with me,” Alice said. “She wasn’t born a Catholic; she told me that right after I first asked her to join me at Incarnation. Was born a Presbyterian but never found satisfaction in that faith.” Alice dug her short, unpolished nails through the tight mass of bright hair. “She strayed, she said, and when she found her way back, she decided the good Lord meant her to be part of the true faith, so she come and joined our church. She asked for my help then,” Alice said proudly. “She asked me to help her find her way back to God.”

“Yes, ma’am,” David said. Beside him Martinez harrumphed softly. “But I still need to know when you last saw Nancy alive.”

Alice eyed Martinez coldly, then smiled at David, revealing impossibly even, white teeth. “Are you Catholic, young man?”

“No, ma’am, I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m not.”

“Pity.”

“Yes, ma’am. Now ma’am—”

“I know,” Alice said. “When did I last see her?”

“Yes, ma’am—”

“I’ll tell you if you stop jabbering. Can’t stand a man who always interrupts. Her son was like that, you know. Always cutting in, interrupting his mother like everything he had to say was pure gospel and the rest of us should just shut up and listen.”

“Her son, ma’am?” David leaned closer, pen poised over his dog-eared notepad. “Mrs. Scott had a son? What about a Mr. Scott?”

“No Mr. Scott. He was her past, she used to say, she was her own future. She never spoke of him. If he was anything like her son, I can understand why.”

“Would you know where we might find this son?”

“He comes around, regular as church bells,” Alice said. “Every other Wednesday.”

“And the last Wednesday he was here?”

The woman shrugged her thin shoulders. “Week or so ago.” The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile. “Why, I guess that would be two weeks ago tomorrow.”

David and Martinez traded looks. “Yes, ma’am,” they both said.

“I guess you can ask him these questions.” Alice smiled slyly. “Oh, and the last time I saw Nancy was Saturday morning. We walked down to the market to buy groceries.”

“What did Mrs. Scott buy?” David asked, remembering the nearly empty refrigerator. And the chocolate wrapper.

Alice sniffed. “Orange juice, couple of cans of soup, bananas and a newspaper. I never saw such a one for not eating proper. I don’t know how she stayed healthy.” Her face suddenly screwed up. “I guess she didn’t though, did she?”

“No, ma’am.”

“You still think she killed herself?”

“That’s up to the medical examiner to determine,” David said.

“Will you be by to talk to that boy of hers tomorrow?”

“We just might do that, ma’am.”

Alice smiled again. “Well, I won’t tell him you’re coming.”

David almost smiled in return. “You have a good day now.”

“You find out what happened to Nancy, and I’ll have a good day.”

She shut the door of her apartment behind them, leaving them standing in the musty hallway looking at each other in bemusement.

“Guess we come by to talk to junior, then,” Martinez said. “Where do you think he was all this time?”

David pulled out the car keys and jangled them against his leg. “We’ll have to make sure to ask, now won’t we?”

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To learn more about P. A. Brown and her terrific books, check out her website. You'll enjoy the journey.

I'll be back Wednesday with multi-published Linda Sole, who now has 100 books to her credit. Be sure to drop in. Until then...

Happy Writing!

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

What would you do with 72 HOURS?

Clare London's signature line says it all; Writing… Man to Man, and no one does it better. Like so few female authors in this genre, Clare writes male emotions with an honesty and depth that weave you into her stories. Her latest release, 72 HOURS, proves it.

Here's a glimpse of this compelling story.

72 HOURS
Clare London
Dreamspinner Press



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BLURB:
Tanner Mackay and Niall Sutherland were once far more than just fellow intelligence agents. But then a mission went horribly wrong and everything fell apart, sending Tanner into hiding and splitting the team and their affair wide apart.

Now an unknown traitor is threatening the team, and their ex-boss is determined to reunite them before it’s too late. She finds Tanner in a run-down trailer park, bringing with her a most unwelcome refugee, in need of temporary sanctuary: Niall, the man he thought he'd never have to face again. The man he's sure feels exactly the same in return.

Trapped in a situation that’s both claustrophobic and highly dangerous, Tanner and Niall will have to revisit their past and reconsider their perceptions, their loyalties—and their desires—in order to survive, let alone forge a future together.

EXCERPT:
Niall kissed like a demon, but a very sweet, very sincere demon. His tongue was hot and fast and fucking gorgeous. He tasted of the wine, the pasta sauce and the mints that came with the check. He pressed fiercely against me, like he’d been holding himself back for the last hour but was now released from whatever inhibitions he’d had, and his hands twisted sharply into my hair at the back of my neck. I could feel strands working loose from the tie and his fingertips pressing on the thin skin at the nape. His eyes were open, watching my reactions, and his hands never strayed past my shoulders. He was waiting, I think, to double check I was okay with it all.

I may have been an acting coach at work, but no one had ever accused me of being difficult to read when it came to sex, whether kissing or something far more intimate. I slid both my arms around his waist and pulled him closer, tight against my body. My lips pressed back hard against his and I gasped my willingness into his mouth. I felt his body tighten and the muscles slide against my own, all the way from torso to knee. The door eased open behind us and we half-fell into the hallway, laughing, groaning, still nipping at each other’s lips.

“Which floor?” he gasped.

“Fifth.” I’d never cursed the broken elevator as soundly as I did that night. We stumbled up all five flights, bumping our bones on the banister, scuffing our shoes against the wall. From the way we clung to each other, we were like a single, melded body with two sets of limbs. I nudged him around each landing, taking every chance to run my hands inside his jacket and down his sides, his ribs and torso tantalizing me from underneath the thin shirt material. As I groped for the keys to my apartment, he seemed to be the only thing holding me upright, clutching my shoulders and gasping into my neck, his fingertips tracing the pulse in my throat, caressing my skin with the damp heat of his palms.

We tumbled again through a doorway, panting from our exertions and from a barely contained passion. But this time when I kicked the door closed behind us, I knew it was just us now; just the two of us, blessed privacy, and a mounting excitement that had consumed any shred of sense left in my brain.

The music playing in my apartment? It was pure soul… a low, slow beat and a voice rich with sensuous humor in every syllable and tone. I barely registered, except to feel the familiar comfort of it around me. Kind of my favorite music, coincidence or not.

And all those worries I had about the state of my place? Thankfully, we never went anywhere near the kitchen to check up on my housekeeping abilities. We also bypassed the lounge where, in fact, there were several piles of laundry on the couch, some clean and some embarrassingly crumpled. As we staggered down my narrow hallway, he shrugged off his jacket and I dropped my keys someplace I didn’t see and, frankly, didn’t care. I toed off my boots and socks in a trail of laughter and hot breathy kisses. When I mumbled something about the coffee I’d promised him, he laughed directly into my face and kissed me again, so soundly that my eyes closed and I felt his taste seep into my very veins. I felt him kicking off his own shoes and fumbling at my buttons. I’d wanted to take some time, to savor the suspense of peeling his clothes off of him – to tease him, perhaps, with my own unwrapping. Then his hands came up underneath the cool fabric of my shirt, running fingertips across my exposed nipples, and suddenly instantaneous nakedness would have been way too slow for me.

The bedroom wasn’t hard to find, mainly because I pushed him bodily through the door, and we fell onto the bed, entwined again as that four-limbed beast. By now, my shirt was hanging from my body by nothing more than a single sleeve, but in return I’d managed to open his without ripping off any buttons in my impatience, and also tug down the zip of his pants. He palmed my groin, molding his hand around the swollen excitement under my jeans, but I had a hand inside the cloth of his underwear and I had a hold of flesh – damp, hot, amongst curls of hair already sticky with excitement – and I was making him groan aloud in a very satisfying way.

He felt exquisite. Precious. I couldn’t understand my reverence, but there was no mistaking it. I’d never felt like that before – nor since, for that matter.

I took the advantage then. I rolled myself around and scrambled up to kneel beside him, tugging at the fabric of his pants and pulling them down from his hips. His soft black jersey briefs were a fabulous contrast against his dark, flushed skin, and they peeled off just as easily under my determined touch. I wanted him naked, and I wanted it now!

He lay on his back underneath me, with none of that coyness that some guys have when you strip them. No, he lay there with his shirt wide open and his chest heaving, his long, bare legs stretched out along the length of my bed. He looked both confident and comfortable, like a wet dream come to reality. His eager eyes glittered like flints, and they were locked on me. His arms lay by his side, and his fists clenched gently. When I reached down to pull his shirt off properly, he shifted his upper body to help me. Then he reached up for my hand and drew it down to his mouth. I watched, fascinated, as his tongue slipped out and licked the valleys between my fingers.

“Tanner.” It was just a breath; just a murmur. No instruction, no demand.

I gazed at him, drinking in the sight of his body laid out on my bed, the sheet creased under his hip, shadows playing along the white cotton folds as he clenched the muscles of his slim ass. The front of his thighs curved sweetly. Soft hairs on his skin, dark curls around his groin. He sucked softly on my fingers and shifted a little more. The movement made his cock bob gently against his belly, the flesh thick and swollen. It made the skin of his balls crinkle and the globes inside roll against the base of his groin...

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Learn more about Clare on her website and her blog. Of course you can catch up with her on facebook, too.

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

Happy Writing!

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

AMBER QUILL PRESS SIGNS CLAIRE DE LUNE

and all contracts are returned! Amazing sci-fi author, Robert Appleton, invited me to co-author and I jumped at the chance to branch out. Gotta love those boys from Bolton. :)

Amber Heat will release CLAIRE DE LUNE November 7 in e-book, followed by the paperback around December 5.

To learn more about Rob's incredible books, check out his website and blog Mercurial Times.

Now for a little teaser about CLAIRE DE LUNE:

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.

Have a safe an wonderful Labor Day. I'm off to celebrate, but will be back next week with the scintillating Raine Delight. Until then...

Happy Writing!

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

WANT A SNEAK PEEK

at my new soon to be released from Amber Quill Press - Amber Heat? Well, here it is!



Trace Edward Zaber is the cover artist and has outdone himself with this beauty.:)

Below are the unedited blurb and excerpt to tempt you. Enjoy!

BLURB:
Battered hockey player Colt Coltrane arrives in Sweden with one thing on his mind – victory. A bad spill later he’s at the tender mercies of the hottest masseuse he’s ever seen. 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, Disa takes him on and 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 on fire.

EXCERPT:
Colt stood on the pavement, eyeing the flat front of the narrow rose colored building, and checked the gold lettering against the business card. It was the right location, but his gut told him this was a big mistake. Sex was great, but not when you ached with every movement or had to pay for it.

A brass bell tinkled when the glass door glided across the asphalt tiles. Easier to hose the joint down after a busy night. Colt smirked and walked further into the Pepto Bismol explosion in every shade of pink even his nutty sisters would gag over.

“Anyone here?” Silence answered. He stared at the two closed doors and remembered Frank Stockton’s story The Lady or the Tiger? and knew, in this place, the tiger was the safer bet.

He shoved open the first door on his left and swallowed hard when the aroma of sweet incense drifted out from the dimly lit room. Or maybe it was the pert little butt sticking up to greet him that caused his reaction. The short skirt skimmed her buff cheeks, minus panties, and his cock shot to life. All pain forgotten, he allowed his eyes to travel down her well toned legs to her impossible-to-walk-in stilettos. The miniature silver loops, accenting the high heels, swayed in time with her tight buns to the sounds of a rock band.

She glanced over her shoulder, a beautiful smile spread her glossy lips, and the ever-helpful Swedish doctor popped into his mind. It puzzled Colt why such a pretty young woman would hang with the old geezer, unless it was for the extra krona needed to survive in this expensive city. Like a puck in sudden death, it hit him. The rotten fuck’s a pimp!

“Du har ett möte?”

Her soft voice sang its way to him and all he could do was nod while he tugged on the front of his jeans.

She stood and walked closer, her ultrathin heels tapping on the speckled tiles. Even though he was well under six feet, it pleased him she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes.

“You must not be Swedish, so I will ask in English. Do you have an appointment?” Her arched eyebrows furrowed and she toyed with the large pearl in one earlobe. “Please, what is your name?”

“Colt Coltrane, I’m with the Colorado Bannocks, and—”

“Hockey player?”

He nodded, not sure if her squinted eyes were a good thing. Maybe the little doll needed glasses.

“No, no more of you. You are all too much work for too little money.” She waved her hands, shooing him away, her spiky blonde hair quivering with the sharp movements. “Go somewhere else with your pretend man needs. Disa cannot and will not be bothered with you.”

“Look, lady,—” Colt caught her slender wrists in one paw. His grin turned into a broad smile at the little hellcat bossing around a full-grown goalie. “—I’m only here because this guy said you’re the best for what ails me. I don’t need a lot of shit for my money. I just need someone to help me make it through the night.”

Thank you for dropping in today. For my Americans friends, Have a safe and exciting Fourth of July!

I'll be back next week. Until then...

Happy Writing,

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

FOUR HOT PEPPERS ARE SWEET!

I am ecstatic to share the awesome FRENCH TART review LeAnn from Talking Two Lips wrote and posted June 21. Thank you, LeAnn and TTL!

FRENCH TART
Naughty Ladies of Nice, Book 1
Sloane Taylor
ISBN: 978-1-60168-281-9
Aspen Mountain Press



Rating: 4 Hot Peppers

You can read the complete review HERE

Sloane Taylor, does a wonderful job of combining an interesting story with some very hot sex. Ms. Taylor gives her characters time to get to know one another and to build a relationship that work. The plot carries us smoothly from beginning to end, culminating with a very satisfying fairy tale finish. I suggest reading French Tart to find out what fairy tale it parallels! I am looking forward to reading more of this series to find out what other excitement is about to happen in France!

Reviewer: LeAnn

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I'll be back next week. Until then...

Happy Writing!

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

LIKE FREE READS?

Take a few short minutes and join me today at Lizzie T. Leaf 's blog. Be treated with a hot post. :) Make a comment and you have a chance to win!

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

WHERE PASSION AND LIFE COLLIDE

Today we have author MC Halliday who writes from the heart and will stir yours. Passion and depth are her creed. Well, see for yourself what MC has to say:

I admit!

I often write myself into my books. Beyond the extensive research and plotting, I seem to write my most troubling experiences into my noir mysteries and works of fantasy. One of my issues that show up in these books is the loss of my mother at a young age, my ongoing dreams she lives still or the suffering that ensued without her protection.

In, THE KING'S DAUGHTER, the heroine discovers her mother is alive:

“Solely, I be here to keep you safe.” The woman’s voice was soft, imploring.
Touched by the gentle tenderness, Magaith said, “Bear out the truth in what you say that I might have faith and depend on you.”

“I am your mother, known as Imagael. And you, my daughter to Bascogne.”

Magaith took pause, could this be? She found her voice. “The king, my father, spoke of my mother, long ago gone to the other-world.”

“I speak full truth, I am mother to you.”

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

THE KING’S DAUGHTER
MC Halliday
ISBN: 1-59998-033-9
Samhain Publishing



In a medieval Eire where the Druid legacy survives, the bartered daughter of a clan king struggles in a web of dark spells to save herself ~ and her beloved knight ~ while under the watchful eye of a lough wizard.

Due to a lack of guidance but in spite of poor treatment growing up, I remained a terribly gullible, trusting girl even when the actions of others proved otherwise; exactly as the heroine is depicted in my novel of Victorian historical erotica. I could not have written this novel without the insight and courage to weave my own internal struggles through the fictional memoirs, I Came Up Stairs: A Victorian Courtesan's Memoirs, 1867 to 1871:

“It was this period of weakness and self-doubt that I believe set the stage for what occurred in the coming weeks and months. It was my need for assurance and comfort that caused me to crave love so desperately.”

"The greatest challenge of my life has been to see and accept the actual truth without great pain and struggle against it."

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

I CAME UP STAIRS: A Victorian Courtesan's Memoirs, 1867 to 1871
MC Halliday
ISBN 9781770650459
Eternal Press



An epic tale of love and lovers, war and heartbreak woven into the erotic memoirs of a courtesan unashamed of her amorous adventures.

Led from filth and poverty by a gentleman in the hopes of gaining coin for his purse, Mae is shaped into a lady and tutored in the arts of pleasure. With raw sensuality, she creates a seductive dance that entices the peerage in puritanical England, and she quickly becomes favored courtesan to Prince of Wales. Her renown and riches ever rising, she continues to romp with gamely men and women of both the nobility and the lower classes. Eventually, Mae’s bohemian ways cause suffering for those she loves and her own heartbreak. Must she conform to Victorian mores, or can she remain true to her sensual desires?

These intimate memoirs reveal a young woman’s journey from the slums of Whitechapel to celebrated dancer of the Victorian music hall, and courtesan to the highest peers of the British realm. From the years 1867 to 1871, Mae recounts her varied lovers and false loves, and her heartbreaking losses in a quest for happiness.

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As much as I write a variety of genres, I believe my books would be less without the depth of my experiences reflected in the character’s challenges and the difficult path to hard won wisdom. My dedication in, The King’s Daughter:
“Everytime there is a struggle, it is a preparation for what is to come.”
Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes from the documentary, The Last Days of Left Eye

“At any place on the road of life we try to do the best we can with the knowledge we have at the time. Our journey is often fraught with rutted cobbles and wide streams but I believe each fall or flounder we might make along the way is a chance to learn, to do better.” MC Halliday

My dedication in, I Came Up Stairs, is one simple sentence:
To my mother, Maureen Grace, long gone and yet, ever the wind at my back.

If you are further intrigued, please visit my website for books currently available and links to long excerpts. I also have trailers on YouTube that might be of interest and regular posts on both Goodreads and Facebook.

We'll be back tomorrow with another side of MC Halliday you won't want to miss.:) Until then...

Happy Writing!

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

NO SUCH THING AS TOO MUCH RAINE

And that's a fact. Talented Raine Delight is back today with two more of her "gotta read" books from the Devon Falls series.

HAUNTING MAGIC
Raine Delight
Paranormal Erotic/Shifter
Aspen Mountain Press



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BLURB:
A werewolf claims his mate in Devon Falls.

Rodrick Dracon is the twin heir to the Dragon Inn. When he finds himself longing for a mate after being footloose and fancy free, he finds himself drawn to the most obnoxious, brassy woman he has ever met: Jaxon Sinclair. She is the one woman who doesn't melt when he goes by or hangs on his every word. She is just aggravating and down right sexy as sin! Soon the sparks fly, passion goes into boiling and Halloween approaches. Can a wolf shifter get this woman to heel before the full moon? Or can Jax turn the tables on this ladies man and tame the wolf?

EXCERPT:
Jax’s fingers traced the outline of his hard cock as she tried to still her raged breath. She could still feel the way his lips captured hers and she wanted more. Her nipples ached and her pussy was dripping wet, going down her thighs. She didn’t know what to do or say but she knew she wanted more of him and she wanted Rod naked very soon if he kept this up.

“I…” Jax tried to talk but her throat was dry and her breath kept hitching every time he swirled that tongue of his on her ear lobe and then nipped it. She swallowed hard as she tried to speak, though if he kept twirling his tongue along her ear lobe, she was going to do something drastic very soon. All this tension was making her stomach clench and her breasts felt achy from wanting to be touched.

His body felt like it was cast from granite, hard and unyielding though each time she traced her fingers along the hard ridge in his jeans, she heard him groan. Jax debated if she should let this go further when all thought of caution went right out the window as he nibbled on that one particular spot between her shoulder and neck. It was like a time bomb exploded inside her. He made her feel like she was going to combust. She couldn’t stop the way her body melted into his or the moan that seemed to come from deep inside her. She wanted more and she was going to get it, regardless of the consequences.

Jax grabbed his t-shirt with both hands and yanked it over his head. The pale skin gleamed in the light and she drooled over the way his abs rippled. She slid her hands across his chest, his nipples pointed out when she teased them with her fingernails. With just his jeans on and no shirt, he looked like a wild god, ready for his sacrifice, and Jax was more than willing to sacrifice her to him. If he didn’t get naked soon, she was going to go up in flames, Jax thought as she nipped his lips with her teeth. Hearing his breath hitch each time she traced a path around his navel had her anxious to explore even more. Flipping the top button of his jeans, she teased Rodrick as she looked at him with her eyes at half mast, passion glazing in them. She slid her fingernail across his nipple, causing him to tighten his grip on her waist. Slowly, she slid the zipper down and her breath hitched as she saw his cock straining to get free. He was utterly naked under the jeans and Jax was about to melt as her eyes took it in. His cock was glorious as she licked her lips in anticipation for a taste. Her panties were so drenched that her juices were sliding down her legs, coating the inside of her thighs.

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FIERY MAGIC
Raine Delight
Paranormal Erotic/Shifter
Aspen Mountain Press



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BLURB:
The mistakes of the past collide explosively in Devon Falls.
Damien Dracon is back in Devon Falls, and he is about to woo the one lady he left three years ago. Family secrets and youthful pride forced him to give up the one good thing in his life: the love of Alicia Stevens. What he doesn't expect is that Alicia has a secret of her own, and it may just tear them apart. Can two former lovers find it in themselves to forgive one another and let love grow between them? Or will past secrets haunt them and tear them apart? This 4th of July is about to get explosive in Devon Falls.

EXCERPT:
He strode down the sidewalk. The window of the Dew Drop glowed softly, and a shadow walked past the window. He jogged lightly across the street and almost fell through the glass pane at the sight of Alicia, weaving her way around the cases. He watched the way she moved, all fluid-like and with a grace that he could never find, no matter how hard he tried, in other women. Her reddish blonde hair was in a loose ponytail that he suddenly itched to take down. His eyes widened when her lush, voluptuous body had him aching to see her in all its natural glory. Hers was the most desirable body he had ever seen. The blood rushed to his cock straining the front of his jeans.

Whistling softly, he never thought she would grow up to be so voluptuous and sexy! It was quite an eye opener, especially when she bent over to clean the case of pastries and her jeans tightened around her rounded ass. Groaning at the vision in front of him, his blood burning with a need to possess; Damien tried to still his racing lust. My god, she is gorgeous and sexy. She’s like a 50’s screen bombshell, all rounded curves and long legs. What man wouldn’t be lucky to have her as a mate and mother of his children?

Watching her dance to a tune only she could hear brought Damien’s attention to the way she moved. She moved like a ballerina, yet was more graceful to his thinking, and as he watched her dance around the cases and tables, he found himself longing to dance with her. Thinking how her body would curve around his made him shudder with a hot need that had him rock hard and aching for something that he hoped he could experience again — if she didn’t kick him in the balls first and then toss him out the door.

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We'll be back tomorrow with another side of Raine seldom made public. Hope you join us. Until then...

Happy Writing!

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

WHEN IT'S RAINE'S, IT'S HOT!

Raine Delight is a pseudonym of a self professed book lover and after one too many TSTL characters, decided to see if she could write something a little better. Many drafts later, the Devon Falls series came to fruition. Originally it was to be one book but somehow ended up to four with a fifth and sixth being planned for release sometime in 2010.

Here's a little from Raine: I write a paranormal contemporary series for Aspen Mountain Press and am also branching out to other genres as I continue to listen to the voices in my head. My muse is a male nut who likes to leave me to go sip Mai Tais on the beach and leave me foundering for words; though eventually he takes pity on me and gets my words flowing and characters start settling down.

On a personal note, I live with my own boytoy and two kids. I love Johnny Depp movies and enjoy hiking, reading and watching movies with my family.

Check out my book pages to see what is going on with me here.

Here are two teasers from the Devon Falls series to tempt you.

RED HOT MAGIC
Raine Delight
Aspen Mountain Press



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BLURB:
A candy maker is set up by her business partner at a charity animal auction.

With the help of a charity fundraiser, Jenna sets her friend, Raven, up to find Mr. Perfect. Raven though, has found Mr. Perfect...in her dreams. Now, if she could only find the sexy man in real life.

EXCERPT (ADULT):

He waited until she pointed to the door leading out of the kitchen. Raven couldn’t talk, much less breath as she pointed him to her bedroom. It was never like this with anyone else and she couldn’t believe how electrified she felt! She sighed in delight as his arms tightened at the sight of her bedroom…all ready for some serious love play, with a love swing in one corner and the silk scarves on her bed in addition to the mirror right behind the headboard. She heard the door slam shut with ra rousing bang!
She looked at her bedroom with new eyes; instinctively she knew she was waiting for this man in her heart.

“Wow sweetness, you are my kind of woman you know that?” He said as he laid her down on the bed making her aware at the strength radiating inside him. He was whipcord strong, she saw the cords in his arms flex as he leaned over her to nibble on her lips. She was trying to figure out the feeling she saw in his eyes but before she could puzzle it out, he was whipping out the silk scarves and tying her hands to either bedpost.

Shocked yet aroused green eyes looked into passionate blue ones as he tightened the scarves to just a degree where they didn’t hurt her but kept her immobile.

As he slid his hands down either side of her, they brushed the under swell of her breasts and the nipples puckered up even more. She felt them aching for a touch, a lick, anything he would give her before the night is through.

Smiling, he tugged at the pointed nipple through her dress. With each tug, she was gasping in delight. As she felt the answering tug deep in her loins, she was soon wishing for something more from him. He slid his palms under the top of her dress. Soon it was yanked down to expose her aching full breasts to his aroused gaze.

He was drowning in need. When he saw those perfect globes with the cherry tipped nipples, Jean-Claude fought the need to bury deep inside her and come hard and fast. The nipples were big and pointed with her excitement, they begged for his touch yet he took his time and made sure to tease her with feather light caresses all over. Soon, he had her whimpering as need raced through them and he could not deny himself a taste any longer.

Raven arched as his lips settled over one nipple while his hand played with her other. Sensations raced through her, passionate and erotic, she closed her eyes to give herself over to his masterful touches. He licked, sucked and tugged at her nipples, alternating between them both. Moaning her body was a withering mass of need and wanting, with her juices soaking her panties, the scent of her passion rising in the air, her control melted like chocolate on a hot burner.

“My god, you are exquisite. I need you so much yet I don’t want to rush anything.” Jean-Claude said as he slid the dress over her hips groaning at the soaked thong she was wearing. He inhaled, the scent of her juices rose into his lungs, filling him with lust and love. With her thigh high stockings and shoes still on, he was aware at how tremulous his control remained. It was almost painful as his erection strained to get free and sink into her hot, wet core. Yet he waited and slowly shrugged his shirt off and tried to calm his raging desire.

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

STICKY MAGIC
Raine Delight
Aspen Mountain Press

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BLURB:

A chance meeting at a sweet shop...Can it be love?

When a stranger stops in at her shop, Jenna is surprised by the immediate attraction. Apparently, Marc is too because he wants to get to know Jenna. A whole lot better and won't take no for an answer.

EXCERPT (PG):

Marc looked down at the small sprite of a woman and felt his body tighten as he recognized the one who he had been looking for. Disbelief warred inside him as Jenna chattered on about different displays, gesturing to another case filled with candy canes stripped in an array of reds, greens, purples and the traditional flavor of peppermint. He never expected to find his mate in the small town his mother told him to go to. If it wasn’t his family pressuring him to finally find her and his mother’s prophecy, he would never have stepped foot in Devon Falls. Looks as if mum was right again in her prophecy Marc thought as he contemplated trying to make his for all time.

“Jenna, she loves candy canes and anything Christmas related.”

Marc smiled at the memory of his mother baking tons of cookies for the holiday festivities and enjoying the sweets that came with the season as well as telling him and his siblings to keep out of the cookie dough.

“Well that narrows it down a little.”

Taking a gift box out, she gestured to the case next to her. “Does she have any allergies to anything, like nuts or peanut butter? I want to make sure I don’t kill a potential customer here. It is bad for business you know.”

Amusement lit her eyes up as she decorated the box with gaily-covered tissue paper.

“Actually no, she doesn’t have allergies to anything so please, pick some things out and make it look really nice.” Marc said. She looked so damn beautiful, looking up at him with those big brown eyes. He couldn’t remember a time when he got this hard this fast all from watching a woman work. Marc closed his eyes and imagined running some of the chocolate kisses on her nipples. Feeling his cock go even harder from his imagination going into hyper drive, he shifted his legs a little to ease the pressure.

Jenna looked up and caught him shifting and noticed a nice size bulge in the front of his pants. Swallowing at the picture of peeling those tight ass pants down his body, Jenna tried to keep her mind on this sale rather than wanting him naked and at her mercy, though if you asked her, it was just hard work trying to not drag him to a supply closet for a quickie.

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

I'll be back tomorrow with more from Raine. Until then...

Happy Writing!

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

SCI-FI, FANTASY & ROMANCE - YUM!

Spellbinding author Robert Appleton is here today with his new novel THE MYTHMAKERS. The powerful cover was designed by talented artist Kanaxa. I do believe she outdid herself.

Here's what Rob has to say about himself:
I'm a native of Bolton, England, I write science fiction and paranormal mysteries. 2009 is my second year in the rollercoaster world of e-publishing (hint: don't look down, except when upside down).

In my previous lives, I served (smuggled) popcorn in a cinema, mis-filed much as a public servant, and walked away with a Film Studies degree. I've visited America, Greece, Spain, Scotland and other alien planets.

To date, my publishers include Samhain Publishing, Eternal Press, Lyrical Press, Club Lighthouse Publishing, Uncial Press, and Damnation Books. My ambition is to have an ambition. So far, it's all with the tide, baby.

You can learn more about Rob on his website or on his BLOG

Warning: This book contains moderate sexual activity, strong language, and high-cholesterol breakfasts. Also features hot nudists, naive men and other equally rare fantasy creatures.

THE MYTHMAKERS
Robert Appleton
Samhain Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-60504-906-9

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BLURB:
For Captain Steffi Savannah and her crew of deep space smugglers, life has become little more than a dogged exercise in mere survival. Their latest disastrous heist ended with another dead crew member—and no place left to hide. She’s even finding it hard to dredge up any excitement over the giant, crippled ship that appears on their radar, even though it’s the salvage opportunity of a lifetime.

They find that it’s no ordinary alien vessel. It’s a ship of dreams, populated with the last remnants of Earth’s mythical creatures. Including the blond, built, mysterious Arne, one of a race blessed with extraordinary beauty—and few inhibitions. Though he won’t tell her exactly what he is, in his arms Steffi rediscovers something she thought she’d never feel again. Wonder, love…and hope.

It isn’t long, though, before the Royal guard tracks them down, and Steffi and her crew are faced with a terrible decision. Cut and run. Or risk everything to tow the ship and her precious cargo to safety.

EXCERPT:
There had to be easier ways to make a living.

Steffi Savannah loosened her jaw with a gummy roll of her mouth, then shook her head to stay awake. The stars wheeled at a dizzying clip. She ducked lower into her magnetic boots, but her quads ached from crouching. The dark purple flame of her cutting torch ballooned and dripped behind the tinted welding shield in her hand. It was taking too damn long. She’d guessed at five minutes to cut the metal debris loose—fifteen minutes ago. Bright molten shards spiralled away into space as the Albatross rifled through nothingness on her way to nowhere. “Come on, you bitch,” she urged.

The two chasing ships were gaining. Once mere pinpricks of light against the dull grey cloud whirls of planet October, they now had necks and glassy beaks and shiny metal wings that reflected the suns’ amber. And an arsenal of major firepower ready to annihilate the Albatross.

“How’s it coming, Cap?” Bo Lineker’s snappy boyish voice redoubled her grit.

“Nearly there,” she replied. “Don’t wait for me. Get inside if you’re done.”

“You don’t want a hand?”

“No. I’m almost through.”

“I could—”

“Get below. Tell McKendrick to light the candle as soon as I close the hatch behind me.”

“Aye.”

The weight of resignation in his parting syllable tumbled and echoed deep inside her. She’d always hated being alone outside. Having a man to keep her company, one who’d do anything for her even though she didn’t love him in the least, was a safety cord no rig could best. She looked round but he’d gone. The unique brass hull had been sleek once. Now it was dented and greening and it barely reflected starlight anymore. Laser scarring and rivulet depressions where the seams had started to buckle groaned with old age.

Steffi shot a breath from her nostrils and gripped the cutter’s blunt handle. It rocked and rolled as the mangled wreckage lifted toward her. Dammit. She had to let go of the torch to duck. McKendrick had punched the throttle early, as soon as the ship’s rolling had stopped. Tons of twisted metal almost took Steffi’s head off as the Albatross gathered speed. Ducking backward, she lay flat on the hull. Only her knees pointed up, as her magnetic boots were still clamped. The wreckage lifted like a silver crown of thorns away, ahead of her into space. She hoped like hell the bastards would fly into it.

A large blue glove gripped her arm.

“Bo! I thought I told—”

“Sorry. Was worried about you, Cap.”

She climbed up his arm and shoulder and shook her head. “Of all the dumb goddamn…I told you to tell McKendrick to wait ’til I was inside.” She gave him her hardest shove. It made him blink. “I came this close to being ripped in half,” she added, demonstrating the distance between her forefinger and thumb. “Now get your dumb hulk ass below and help Flyte with the Psammeticum coils.”

“Soon as you’re inside, Cap.”

She wanted to hug him for being a loyal puppy, but he needed to learn what an order meant. Bo adored her. He’d often said so in bed. And a part of her was very fond of him—the sex and the sweet talk had brightened up many a dull evening—but no more than that. She knew it was pity more than love that kept her close to him. Pity for his dumb, harmless nature; for him being an orphan with no hope of anything but a mining or muscle job; and for him not minding being used for sex whenever she wanted it.

But this time, his mindless devotion had gone too far.

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I'll be back later this week. Until then...

Happy Writing!

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