FOREST OF CORPSES

P.A. Brown is back with us today, showcasing her latest hot book FOREST OF CORPSES which is the sequel to THE GEOGRAPHY OF MURDER. Both books are gripping suspense with just the right amount of romance. You're sure to enjoy them.

Check out more of P.A. Brown's exciting work on her website.

FOREST OF CORPSES
P.A. Brown
ISBN 978-1-60820-163-1 Print
ISBN 978-1-60820-164-8 E-book

MLR Press



BUY LINK

BLURB
Welcome to the Los Padres National Forest. A vacation from hell.

EXCERPT

Spider

Nobody died today.

That’s a good day in my books, but I knew it wouldn’t last.

Westside had a major hard on for Eastside. War was brewing. Fideo and his WS crew shot up the East Beach, then a week later, on Memorial Day, did the same at a market on Anacapa Street. That time their aim had improved. They dropped two Eastside bangers and a ten-year-old boy out buying milk for his grandmother. Both OGs made it. The kid didn’t. Chalk it up to collateral damage from the drug war.

We canvassed the market and caught a couple of witnesses who saw the whole thing. So we nailed Fideo along with two members of his posse, and tossed their cholo butts in jail. Fideo lawyered up with a good uptown legal beagle, but still sat in lockup, no bail. Then another drive-by took out witness one. Suddenly our only remaining witness “made a mistake.” The paperwork wasn’t dry before the scrotes were back in the hood and the witness was in hiding. Fideo rode with his ese through his hood, crowing how he beat 5-0. His street creds firmly embellished by his latest exploits, he was back, and he was stronger.

And took up his business of dealing drugs, death and taxes without losing a night’s sleep.

Miguel, my new partner, snapped his frustration. “How can we stop these people if no one will testify against them?”

I shrugged. “It bites, I agree. But look at it from their side. Hard to testify from a pine box.”

“God will take care of them.”

“Right.” I rolled my eyes, making sure he couldn’t see the gesture. “I’m sure Mr. Gillespie’s family feel the same way.” Gillespie had been witness number one, a businessman leaving a wife and two young kids behind. He told me when I interviewed him the first time he had to talk. That it wasn’t right that these men could terrorize a neighborhood and get away with it. What kind of example did that set for his kids? Well, I guess his kids learned a valuable lesson there. But probably not the one their old man wanted to give. We had gone to Gillespie’s funeral yesterday, per department regulations. Not surprising, no one from Westside showed or sent their condolences. Not that there was much we could have done if they had. As usual, we had no proof that put any Westside banger anywhere near the vicinity of Gillespie’s untimely death. What we had were two bullets from a 9 mil that couldn’t be tied to any other crimes. A clean gun for a clean hit.

There was a time when my frustration level would have surpassed Miguel’s. Those days are long gone. First thing you learn on the job, leave it at the station. Taking it home with you is the surest way to give yourself high blood pressure and a date with your own duty weapon, or your cardiologist.

There was a time I used to share my world with dead people. The homicides I couldn’t solve would follow me home and make me hold them in my memory. The more brutal they were, the more they clung to me, needing closure I couldn’t give them.

Then Jason burst into my life, unasked and unlooked for. I hooked him up and tossed his ass in jail for the murder of a man it turned out he’d never met. A lot of people would have flipped me the bird for what I did, but Jason wasn’t like that. There wasn’t a vengeful bone in his perfect body. Instead, once he was released from jail, we’d gone out to dinner, ended up back at my place with my dick up his ass, and my heart in his hands. I realized then I never wanted to let this guy go. It took me months to be able to admit my feelings to myself, let alone to Jason. Then, I damn near fucked what we had up permanently when my petty jealousy turned me into a dangerous fool. It probably would have served me right if Jay had told me to fuck off when I got up the nerve to follow him to Los Angeles. He didn’t, and here we are, two months later, sharing a bed and a bath, and hopefully, a future.

Sometimes my dead people still come around to stalk my dreams, but now there’s an anchor to hold onto when I wake up in a cold sweat, with my heart pounding and my mouth dry with unspoken fear; there to whisper soothing words, not press me for explanations I was loathe to give anyone. Even for Jason I didn’t show weakness.

He gave me back my life. So why can’t I give him the one thing he wants? Because I’m a fucking coward who’s afraid of losing control again? Afraid? Fuck that. Alexander Spider isn’t afraid of anything. Or anyone.

The morning after Gillespie’s funeral I got up before Jason. Dressing after my shower, I stood over our bed, studying him while I buttoned my shirt. Sometime during the night he had kicked his covers off exposing his delicious butt, and all I had to do was reach out and stroke the peach soft skin. I knew my touch would instantly wake him up, and I had no trouble imagining those sleepy eyes falling on me and that slow, sexy smile he only gave to me. We’d both been too tired last night to do anything but fall into bed. There was nothing sleepy about my body now. My dick pressed painfully against my briefs and I shifted, trying to ease the sudden constriction.

BUY LINK

I'll be back Wednesday with more suspense by the uber talented Dorien Grey. Be sure to stop by. Until then...

Happy Writing!

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

A SIMPLE REQUEST

Take a look at these sweet kids. Aren't they the picture of hope and trust?



How about encouraging them with a simple act?

These second-graders at Our Lady of Grace School have a goal this school year. They're trying to receive picture postcards from every state in the United States.

If you know someone living in or visiting another state please ask them to mail a postcard with a few facts about that state to:

Our Lady of Grace School Grade 2
3025 Highway Ave.
Highland, IN 46322

Thanks for helping. I'll be back next week. Until then...

Happy Writing!

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

DEVON FALLS SWEEPS YOU AWAY

through the creative writing style of talented Raine Delight.

If you aren't familiar with our guest author, allow me to share a bit of her life. Raine Delight is a pseudonym of a self professed book lover. After one too many TSTL characters, she decided to test herself and write something a little better. Many drafts later, Devon Falls came together. It was originally to be one book, but somehow ended up to 4 with a 5th and 6th releasing sometime in 2010.

Raine writes Devon Falls, a paranormal contemporary series, for Aspen Mountain Press and is also branching out to other genres as she continues to listen to the voices in her head.

Check out her book pages to see what's happening in her life. Her muse is a male nut who likes to leave her foundering for words while he sips mai tais on the beach; though eventually he takes pity and gets her words flowing and her characters settled down.

Personal notes from Raine: I live with my own boytoy and two kids. I love Johnny Depp movies and enjoy hiking, reading and watching movies with my family.

Below is a teaser from her latest creation which recieved a Recommended Read from Dark Divas Reviews.

HAUNTING MAGIC
Devon Falls Series Book Four
Raine Delight
ISBN: 978-1-60168-250-5
Aspen Mountain Press




BUY LINK

BLURB:
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 as 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 PG-13:

Rodrick Dracon felt like a Mack truck had slammed into him the next day. He had definitely downed one too many beers last night. The pounding in his head worsened when he pried open his eyes. He closed them again and tried to remember what caused him to bring home three women. His inner wolf must have been especially randy. He tried to gather his thoughts and the energy to get a shower but the thought of moving had him determined to stay right where he was.

BANG! BANG!

“What the hell is wrong with you, Rod?” Damien said, as the door flew open and slammed into the frame. “You were due to help Dad out with the barn set up for the Halloween dance an hour ago. He has been looking for you.”

“Stop it already, my head feels like it’s ready to explode here. I’ll call Dad in a few minutes once I’m able to function and apologize, then meet him out at the barn. Isn’t Halloween a few weeks away anyways?” Rod asked as he made it to the edge of the bed and whimpered as the pain caused spots to form in front of his eyes.

“Rod, Halloween is only couple of days away and Dad is trying to get the dance floor finished before the festivities. I am helping Alicia bring the refreshments over and setting up. You were to pick up the slack so Dad doesn’t have a heart attack doing the work you said you’d help him with.” Damien shook his head and looked at his disheveled brother. ”Do you even remember the ladies you came home with, Rod?”

Rod tried to remember, but all he kept getting were lots of black places

“Nope.”

Damien sighed and sat on his bed. “Rod, this has got to stop. You need your mate and the faster you run from it, the more you are going to hurt as the wolf tries to run free. You know that but you are so hell bent on not getting shackled, as you say, that the wolf inside you wants...no, he needs his mate or he will die trying to find her.”

“Well what do you want me to do…audition every woman on the planet, Damien?” Rod retorted as he looked bleary-eyed at his brother. “This whole mate thing is getting on my nerves and, frankly, I am going to have a complex if this keeps up. What is it with happy couples who want others to be just as happy? Are you drinking happy juice or something?”

“No, not audition but not try to sleep with every female that offers herself to you might be a good place to start.” Damien said. “Why not trying to court a woman or find one that interests you for more than sex? What about falling in love instead of lust?”

Rod looked up at his brother like he was nuts. “Love? What the hell do I know about love with a woman? Lust, yes. Plenty of that, but love?” Scoffing, Rod tried to remember when he ever felt like being in love. “If it means getting all moony over a woman like I see around here, then kill me now because I swear I will never act like that.” With a sigh, Rod implored, “Who am I to fall in love with Damien? Hmmm…with Jax, Dixie, or some nameless woman I’ve never met? “

Damien shook his head. “It is not so bad, Rod. Love will smack you when you least expect it but stop trying to out run the wolf. You will never win and, truthfully, are you not tired the endless parade of women that seems to go through your revolving door of a bedroom? I am going to start charging admission soon if this keeps up.”

“That is all fine for you, Damien. You found your mate again,” Rod grumbled and loneliness clawing at his stomach. “I have never been in love; don’t believe in destiny or any of that crap either but I have seen love around me so I know it is there. I just don’t think it will happen to me.”

BUY LINK

You can keep pace with Raine Delight in a variety of locations. Here are her links:
Website
Raine’s Book Nook Blog
Twitter
Author/Reader Loop

Raine also enjoys hearing from people. Feel free to email her.

Her books are sold at all the popular sites. Here's a list of locations:
Aspen Mountain Press
Fictionwise
All Romance E-books
1Romance E-books
Amazon Kindle

Not only is Raine Delight an excellent writer, she's a whiz in the kitchen. Come back to my site next month for her easy and tasty recipes. On the header bar, click Fun Stuff, then in the drop down What's Cooking. You'll be glad you did!

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

Happy Writing!

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

HOT OFF THE PRESS

I'm ecstatic to announce Aspen Mountian Press has just released FRENCH KISS. There will be plenty of celebrating tonight!

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

BUY LINK



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come for me, ma petit.”

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

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

BUY LINK

I'll be back tomorrow with Raine Delight. Until then...

Happy Writing!

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

P.A. BROWN, FRONT AND CENTER

Born in Canada, P. A. Brown's approach to life was tempered in the forges of Los Angeles. After eight years in the City of Angels, she was endowed with a fascination for the darker side of life and the professionals who patrol those mean streets.

P.A. considers those years a lifetime's worth of experience that she mines regularly in her novels. She is not afraid to explore the darker sides of her characters and the streets they inhabit, including the ones most people are afraid to walk down alone at night.

Here's an excellent example of her terrific books.

FALL INTO THE NIGHT
P.A. Brown
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-713-7 (Electronic)
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-777-9 (Paperback)
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure



BUY LINK

BLURB
The death of his father catapults Terik u Selhdun into the position of Ogema of Tiamat, the planet of his birth. It was a position he rejected years before when he and his autocratic father clashed over Selhdun's homosexuality. Instead, Selhdun became a linked pilot and owner of his own ship, the Necromancer. Linked pilots are the only ones who can take a ship through Jump, a form of hypserspace travel that allows the empire of man, known as the Autarch, to thrive.

War drove the humans off their home world of Terra (Earth). In the subsequent years, the coordinates of the Terran Jumpoint were lost. When they eventually resurface, Selhdun and the Necromancer are hired to transport a group of scientists back to Terra in order to ascertain whether humans can safely return to the planet of their origin.

But numerous forces in and out of government don't want Selhdun to succeed. Troubles plague the expedition, including an assassination attempt and brutal enemies hell-bent on stopping Selhdun and the ship, even as he and his crew make strides in their mission. Yet in Terran space, a new lethal menace awaits, and soon everyone on board the Necromancer discovers the battle to stay alive has only just begun...

EXCERPT
A hard, driving snow scudded out of a sky as bleak and depressing as the fallow fields around them. Selhdun didn’t need to consult Ship to know the weather was going to turn even nastier and soon. He had too many memories of such storms closing in on them.

“Get us inside,” he said to the driver when their vehicle paused at the first Enclave gate for HouseComp to verify his identity.

Selhdun knew at that moment a battery of unseen lasguns was trained on them. He barely felt the actual scan, which read the schematics of his embedded ID and verified his identity against HC’s database.

The lights of a distant village shone through the mounting storm. He tried to think of the village name; had he ever been there? He seemed to remember a harvest festival. The fireworks to honor the Ogema and his children had impressed a seven-year-old Selhdun for years afterward. Kanahchi-Wahnung, that was it. A tiny village full of brightly painted houses like so many other villages that made up the local farming co-ops.

A gust of wind rocked the groundcar. The icy-fingered wind whined as it sought to reach the warm bodies inside. Selhdun huddled within the folds of his coat and waited.

“Trust him to save his dying until the end of the season,” Selhdun said to Pakal. “I could do without weather. I think I deliberately forgot how miserable climate is. Don’t tell me—on Xua this would be a balmy spring day.”

“On Xua the elements are legendary.” Pakal made a pretense of peering out into the growing blizzard. A spray of ice crystals rattled against the car windows. “We rarely had such pleasant weather, in spring or any other season.”
Selhdun shivered and not just from the cold. His muscle already shook from over-exertion. He regretted the impetuousness that had brought him here.

Pakal was right. Selhdun should have turned up the gravity or spent time in the gym. If he had, his heart wouldn’t seem like it was trying to climb out of his chest. Even sitting, it felt like hot spikes were being driven into his calves.

The groundcar crossed the open inner courtyard. The main house loomed out of the gathering gloom, all rough-cut stone and windows shuttered like closed eyes, hiding secrets. His ancestral home looked no different than it had the night he had fled fifty-nine years earlier. He realized now the place never changed, only the people inside came and went. It had been built three-and-a-half centuries ago by the then current Ogema who reputedly had wanted a place away from the government seat in Outuais for his wives and sons.

Outside the open front doors a waiting throng gathered. Composed of at least a half a dozen castes, cloned and programmed to fill specific functions, Selhdun couldn’t remember what half of them did. Not that it mattered. They were there to serve him in any way he wanted.

“My mother wastes no opportunity to play the grand dame,” Selhdun said.

“Already I feel her knives at our back.” Pakal turned to stare out at the crowd. “I do not like the look of this.”

“Even my mother wouldn’t dare anything too obvious.” Selhdun glimpsed glittering spy-eyes within the craggy stone walls and the barest glint of a lasgun mounted under a window arch and wished they made him feel safer. The blue-flame funeral torches on the stone walls cast shadows on the few tendrils of snow that lay in every corner. It lent exposed human skin a ghoulish cast.

“Stupid ritual.” Selhdun glared at the funeral torches that were only lit when a male member of the ruling Ogema died. The last time he had seen them he had been four. His grandfather had died, making his father Ogema. He had thought them pretty then. Now he knew better. How many people here wished the flames burned for him? “Barbaric and pointless.”

Pakal shrugged. “They but seek to find comfort in custom. Hardly pointless.”
“Don’t fool yourself. No one here regrets his passing.”

The snow thickened, and the wind died in the walled-in courtyard. Fat snowflakes descended leisurely, and Selhdun watched them settle everywhere. Unbidden, an image came. The image of another time and another world. Another companion.

Another love.

He shivered and tried to shake off the memories, but they persisted. God, he hadn’t thought of Rauli in years. His eyes closed against remembered pain. Beside him Pakal moved, and the cushioned seat crackled under him.

“What is it, Terik?”

“Nothing,” he lied hoarsely. “Ghosts. That’s all.”

BUY LINK

To learn more about P.A. Brown, check out her website. You'll be glad you did.

I'll be back Wednesday with Raine Delight, a creative author you're sure to enjoy. Unitl then...

Happy Writing!

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

READY TO TRAVEL OPEN ROADS?

Today we have KC Kendricks, the masterful author of contemporary gay romance. KC writes from the heart with a passion that submerges you into her stories.

KC is a 2008 Amber Heat Wave Winner, and a 2008 CAPA who celebrates love and hope for mature readers.

She lives in Maryland with her partner of almost twenty years. Weekdays are spent working as an Administrative Assistant to the Board, and as the Office Manager of a mid-size corporation.

KC has written more traditional romance under a pseudonym, with one contemporary title a #1 bestseller, several other top-ten list titles, and a few more recommended reads. She is established as a storyteller that delivers rich, satisfying romantic tales that feature strong themes of love, hope, and redemption with positive, upbeat endings.

Here's a little from her latest release I think you'll enjoy.

OPEN ROADS
KC Kendriks
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-731-1 (Electronic)
Amber Quill - Amber Allure



BUY LINK

BLURB:

Tyler Phillips enjoys his small town life. He’ll never get rich working the family business, but he knows there’s more to a man than the size of his bank account. Easing into mid-life, Tyler’s restless for something he can’t find in the little borough of Easton – male companionship.

Noel Springs got caught up in the economic downturn. His job gone, and retirement a lot of years in the future, Noel decides to take a long drive and see some of the country before dedicating himself to finding new employment. The open road is just what he needs right now.

When his car overheats outside the little town of Easton, Noel discovers the local mechanic is hotter than his radiator, and just as eager to blow off some steam.

INTRO: (from Tyler's point of view)
“Nice car. How far back did the trouble start?”

He leaned inside and pulled the release lever. Little lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes as he smiled. “About forty-one years.”

I grinned at him, already liking his sense of humor as I lifted the hood. A wave of steam engulfed us. I hastily closed my eyes and stepped back to keep the antifreeze-laden vapor from leaving a film on my contact lenses. “Come inside. We’ll let that cool down so I can take a look at her.”

“You’re going to tell me it’s the radiator, aren’t you?” His clear tenor held just a trace of the west as he followed me into what passed as a reception area and office combined. I opened the soft drink case.

“What would you like, on the house? And don’t panic yet.” Based on the way the steam smelled, I suspected his radiator would be fine, but what was inside it was not.

“Too late. I panicked about five miles ago when the temperature gauge shot up.
You can’t imagine how relieved I was to see your sign. I’ll take coffee, if you have it.”

I popped the cap and handed him a cola. “Sorry. It’s a little late in the day for any to be left in the pot.” I grinned at him. “And I hear that a lot about my strategically placed sign out there on the Interstate.”

His grey gaze held my hazel one captive as I held out my hand to him. “Tyler Phillips, owner-operator.”

Strong fingers closed around mine, holding my hand a moment too long for politeness. “Noel Springs, stranded motorist.”

EXCERPT:

Our bodies brushed, hip against hip, as I leaned past him. I heard the sharp intake of breath as he jumped, and felt his heat when he seized the moment and pressed the long length of his muscled thigh to mine. My mouth went dry, but I didn’t need to speak.

Hidden from public view by our bodies and the car, Noel’s hand stroked across my ribs and came to a stop as his strong fingers gripped my waist. I had my hands full, carefully securing the pie for the ride home. His pelvis bumped my ass, a quick thrust that almost knocked my head against the doorframe. My cock hardened in a rush, straining within its denim prison.

“That’s what you get for bending over in front of me, you little tease.”

I wiggled my butt, and he smacked it, hard. I straightened and turned around, grinning at him.

I looked down. He looked down. Noel returned my grin. His grey eyes gleamed in the sunlight as his pink tongue licked his full, rosy lips.

“Seven-and-a-half, cut.”

"Eight. Cut"

Noel narrowed his eyes. “Top or bottom?”

I grasped his hips, not caring if the whole town buzzed it up on the gossip chain by sundown. “You’re too eager.”

He glanced down at my bulging zipper a second time. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“You know, Noel, I don’t want to get all stupid with you. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of your misfortune on the highway.”

“I know, Tyler. And I don’t want you to think I ever planned to abuse your hospitality. This is just one night. Maybe a little friendly companionship, provided…”

He moved to kiss me, and I jerked away. He looked surprised.

“Sorry, Noel.” Kissing on Main Street might be a bit too much for the neighbors whose good will supported my standard of living. “I keep my private life low profile.”

“Of course. I’m out, and I guess I thought you were, too.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m in sort of a limbo. I don’t care if people know, but this is a small town. I don’t flaunt it in public, but in truth, around here, neither do straight lovers.”

“Got it. When in Rome.” He backed away, his expression unreadable as he climbed into the car.

Maybe I’d tripped some trigger of his, or not, but I’d figure it out when we got to my place. Insides quivering with anticipation, I headed out of town.
Noel remained silent for the remainder of the drive to my home, at least until
I turned onto the long gravel lane that led to the two-story frame farmhouse. He shifted in his seat and fixed that clear grey gaze on me in an incredulous stare.

“Excuse me for asking, but what the hell is a good looking stud like you doing out here in bum-fuck middle America, working as a grease monkey, and living on a farm, for God’s sake!”

The answer that filled my being came out of the still darkness of countless solitary nights.

Waiting for you.

BUY LINK

To learn more about the talented KC Kendricks, visit her website and follow her on Twitter. Of course, she has MySpace and Facebook. KC also has a great personal blog. Be sure to join her mailing list for the latest information.

I'll be back Friday. 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

SPICE UP YOUR LIFE WITH GINGER

No, we're not talking recipes. Today's blog is to introduce you to the marvelous author Ginger Simpson who has a penchant for words and weaving them into stories you won't want to miss.



Ginger currently resides in Tennessee with her husband and biggest fan, Kelly. He believes he's the inspiration for all her romantic scenes, but she won't verify his claim.

A while back, she retired to devote more time to writing, but her promotional efforts, blogging, tweeting, and interacting with new friends on author’s and reader’s loops have stymied her efforts.

She watches her grandson, Spencer, in the afternoons, and besides seeing one of her books in a real "brick and mortar" store some day, her main goal is to help her little darling overcome his developmental delays caused by Autism.

Since the publication of her first book in May 2003, she has remained avid about adding to her accomplishments. Her favorite genre is western historical, but she has been known to dabble in other areas.

Ginger's got that "million dollar" book in the works, and one day hopes to haul someone into Wal-Mart, point to her novel and say, "That's me." She proclaims that Grandma Moses didn't make it big until her "golden" years, so why not be a believer that good things come to those who wait...and wait...and wait.

A 2009 EPIC Nominee, Ginger recently won the 2009 Best Historical Novel from Love Romances Cafe. To learn more about Ginger and her terrific books click here or read her interesting blog.


SISTERS IN TIME
Ginger Simpson
ISBN: 9781926704005
Eternal Press

BUY LINK



BLURB:
Two eras collide when a modern day attorney and a pioneer wife find themselves locked in a time not their own.

Mariah Cassidy awakens in the twentieth century. Confined in a pristine environment, hooked to tubes and beeping machines, she’s scared, confused and wondering why everyone keeps calling her Mrs. Morgan. Who is the strange man who keeps massaging her forehead and telling her everything is going to be alright?

Taylor Morgan tries to focus on her surroundings through a blinding headache. The patchwork quilt, the water basin, and the archaic room don’t strike a familiar chord. Her mouth gapes when a handsome man waltzes into the room, calls her darling, and expresses his delight that she’s on the road to recovery.

Clearly something is amiss.

EXCERPT:
Colorado Territory--1872

Taylor’s head pounded with pain. Trying to focus, she opened her eyes and blinked a few times, then propped herself up on her elbows. Everything looked strange. The room seemed bright and cheery, but things appeared very old fashioned. She fingered the patchwork quilt covering the bed, and puzzled over the antique mirror hanging above an old-time washbowl and pitcher across the room. An incessant ache throbbed in her temple.

Where was she? What’d happened to her? A zillion questions raced through her mind.

“David,” she called for her husband. Her voice painfully resonated in her head. “David, where are you?”

She slid off the bed. Her legs wavered beneath her and she clung to the bedpost. Slowly, as she regained her equilibrium, she weaved across the room and peered into the mirror. A massive bandage covered the top her head; black circles ringed her swollen eyes. She didn’t recognize herself.

“Boy, I look like hell,” she muttered.

As she raised her hand to touch the bandage, the door behind her opened, and she spied the reflection of a strange man.

“Mariah, sweetheart. You’re finally awake.” He crossed the room with open arms.

Taylor spun and faced him. Feeling disoriented, she shook her head. “You have the wrong room, sir.”

His brows arched. “Mariah, what are you talking about? What wrong room?”

“Look fella, I’m not Mariah. Evidently you’re in the wrong place if you are looking for someone by that name.”

The stranger rushed over and took her in his arms. “Oh my sweet angel, the bump on your head is worse than Doc Samuels thought.”

Taylor shoved him away. “Take your hands off me. Who is Doc Samuels, and who in the hell are you?”

Suddenly, the room spun. Her stomach turned queasy. Needing to sit, she staggered back to the bed, her gaze still assessing the stranger.

“I’m Frank… your husband.” He followed her, his head cocked, his eyes clouded in confusion.

She swallowed. “Excuse me? My husband’s name is David... David Morgan. I don’t know who you are, mister, but you must be the one who bumped your head if you think I’m your wife.”

“Well, if you aren’t, then just who might you be?”

“Taylor Morgan. I live in Denver. Can you please tell me where I am?”

“You’re in Colorado, about two hours from Denver City. Don’t you remember?”

“Two hours? How in the hell did I get here?”

Frank’s eyes widened. “When did you start cussing?”

“Don’t worry about it, just answer me. How did I get here?” Her last nerve frayed, and he plucked at it.

“Don’t you recall? We were going to town in the wagon—”

“Wagon? What the hell would I be doing in a wagon? A station wagon?”

Frank took a deep breath. “We were going to town, and Jacob needed to pee. I think he disturbed some rattlesnakes and they spooked the horses... Sound familiar?”

Taylor’s mind raced. Who was this loony? Before he spoke again, she assaulted him with a barrage of questions. “Who is Jacob? Wagon? What horses? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Frank... is it? Look, Frank, I have an idea. Why don’t you just call me a cab and I’ll get out of your way.”

She looked down at the tacky nightgown she wore and wondered who had removed her clothing. Tugging at the sack-like shift, she let out an exasperated huff. “If you’ll just retrieve my things, I’ll get dressed and be ready to go when the taxi gets here.”

BUY LINK

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

Happy Writing!

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

FROM MURDER TO ROMANCE

It's PARTY TIME!

Today at Love Romances Cafe from 11:00a.m. until 1:00p.m. EST.

Join Clare London, Ginger Simpson, Linda Sole, Lizzie T. Leaf, Marie Tuhart, Raine Delight, Rita Karnopp, Tabitha Shay, Sarah Grimm and me for a surprising two hours of fun and prizes.

Hope to see you there!

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

ON THE EDGE WITH RICK R. REED

I'm excited to have Rick R. Reed back with us, discussing his newest print release ON THE EDGE. This collection of strong stories is filled with an emotional depth a reader rarely experiences. It's a rewarding read and one you won't want to miss.

Now, a little from Rick;

This book is especially for you if you're one of those people who just doesn't cotton to the idea of an e-book and prefers the look, smell, and experience of a real print book. ON THE EDGE collects eight of my stories that were previously only available in electronic format before. Check out the descriptions of each story below (titles are hyperlinked so you can go to their original publisher page, where you can read excerpts, see reviews, and a more detailed synopsis).

ON THE EDGE
Rick R. Reed
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-779-3 (Paperback)
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure
Amazon Buy Link



Synopsis
In Rick R. Reed’s haunting, mesmerizing, suspenseful, and romantic world, his gay male characters live on the edge, often literally as well as figuratively. In this new collection, you’ll take a wild ride with some of literature’s most unforgettable characters. Along the way, you’ll be moved—to tears, to laughter, to uneasiness, and sometimes, to arousal. As Bette Davis once said, “Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.”

Previously available only in electronic format, these eight stories of Gay Erotica and Romance have now been combined for a paperback edition! Included are the tales...

SUPERSTAR A story about promises made, promises broken, and dreams unfulfilled. Yet ultimately, it’s about realizing that love can come along when one least expects it—and in the unlikeliest of places.

THROUGH THE CLOSET DOOR A tale that brings to painful life the consequences of coming out of the closet when you’re married. Gregory’s mask is slipping, pulled down by the allure of a handsome neighbor and the demands of a desire that only gets louder the more he tries to quiet it.

RIDING THE EL AT MIDNIGHT When the gorgeous and twisted Mark boards a northbound el train, he is looking for love in all the wrong places. Finding Julio aboard that same train, Mark thinks, is the answer to his dreams. But are his dreams nightmares?

FUGUE SLIP into the dungeon playroom of a master and his boy. But in the boy’s mind, a dream state takes him places the master could not imagine...places where the established order turns upside down.

INCUBUS Two men, one predator, and a violent crime equal a journey into hellish nightmare territory. This tale merges horror with a tragic love story and the result is...chilling.

MAN-AMORPHOSIS I awoke one morning from uneasy dreams to find my penis had transformed itself into a vagina... Thus begins the story of a very unusual day...

NO PLACE LIKE HOME Trannies and Psychos and Bears...oh my! Burl discovers—in a hilariously bizarre quest—that there really is no place like home.

POTTERY PETE One long hot summer. Three gorgeous men. And a burning triangle set down in the middle of a factory filled with sweaty men with bulging biceps.

BUY LINK

Thank you, Rick, for sharing your wonderful books. As always, it's a pleasure to have you visit us. :)

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

Happy Writing!

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

DO YOU HAVE DEMONS?

Today we have the uber-talented Rick R. Reed with us. Rick's writing talent is unsurpassed, and his books are filled with love, horror and suspense. I think you'll enjoy his step away from the everyday.

Here's a little from Rick:
Well, it's finally here and available both in e-book and paperback editions: my fifteenth book (and fourth with MLR Press), A DEMON INSIDE.

This book continues my goal of combining both the horror and the romance genre into one compelling read. A Demon Inside is as much a romance as it is a chilling horror novel. I believe it will satisfy readers of both genres equally.

So here's a little bit about the book, along with an excerpt.

A DEMON INSIDE
Rick R. Reed
ISBN 978-1-60820-165-5 (print) $14.99
ISBN 978-1-60820-166-2 (ebook) $6.99


MLR PRESS



BLURB:
Hunter Beaumont doesn't understand his grandmother's deathbed wish: "Destroy Beaumont House." He'd never even heard of the place. But after his grandmother passes and his first love betrays him, the family house in the Wisconsin woods looks like a tempting refuge. Going against his grandmother's wishes, Hunter flees to Beaumont House.

But will the house be the sanctuary he had hoped for? Soon after moving in, Hunter realizes he may not be alone. And who---or what---he shares the house may plunge him into a nightmare from which he may never escape. Sparks fly when he meets his handsome neighbor, a caretaker for the estate next door, but is the man salvation...or is he the source of Hunter's terror?

EXCERPT:
Hunter Beaumont awakened drenched in sweat, striped sheets twisted around him. His heart pounded and an irrational fear coursed through him, disproportionate to the calmness of the dark bedroom surrounding him.

He sat up, rubbing his hand over his slick face, and reassured himself with the same words countless nightmare sufferers have told themselves since the dawn of time: “It was only a dream; it was only a dream.” But it was that same dream again. The one that was part memory, part horror movie. The one where he was camping with his parents and he can see the glow of the campfire flickering on their faces. It’s a lovely scene, at first, romantic and warm. His parents’ voices are hushed, his mother’s laugh tinkling, as the two of them huddle together, the fire keeping the darkness of the woods at bay. But then a shadow falls over his mother and father’s faces and their eyes turn in an instant from contented and adoring to terrified. Then come the screams…and the blood, all the blood. That was when Hunter always awakened.

But this time something more than the nightmare had awakened him. Was someone knocking on his bedroom door? Yes, there it was again, an almost tentative tapping. In his post nightmare state, Hunter imagined the worst—that a monster lurked outside, something needing to be invited in. And once inside, it would rip him limb from limb, gorging on his flesh and drinking his blood.

Hunter allowed himself an embarrassed laugh and attempted to pull himself together. He sat up straighter against the headboard and used a corner of the top sheet to dab at the beads of sweat still gathering on his forehead. “Yes?” he called out.

With a creak, the door opened a crack and Lori Schmidbauer, his grandmother’s nurse, peered in. Even backlit, Hunter could see the kindness in the woman’s dark brown eyes and the concern and sadness on her face. She glanced down the hall and then back toward him, gave him a tentative smile.
“Hunter? Honey, I’m so sorry to wake you. Can I come in?”

Hunter pulled the sheet up further, covering his chest. A new kind of alarm began inside, the dread beginning to churn like something alive in his guts. “Is everything okay?”

Lori didn’t respond. She simply tiptoed into the room and sat down gingerly on the edge of his bed. Hunter leaned over and switched on the nightstand lamp. Lori still wore her scrubs and her curly brown hair was pulled loosely into a ponytail. She looked tired. Hunter repeated his question and added to it. “Is everything okay? Is Nana all right?”

Lori clutched his hand, squeezed it, and let it go. “I don’t think so, dear.” She stared off at a point over Hunter’s head and he could see her eyes glistened with tears.

It felt like his stomach dropped a couple of feet. He bit his lip. “Is it time?”

Lori drew in a quivering breath before responding. “Yeah. I think it is.” She stood. “You better come now if you want to say goodbye.”

“Okay,” Hunter whispered, barely able to find breath to put behind the single word. For his whole twenty-two year life, his grandmother had been his savior, protector, shield, comforter, mother, father, playmate, and teacher. There actually was a monster outside his door, and its name was cancer. That monster was about to rip all he held dear away from him.

Lori waited on the bed, watching him. He could tell she was trying to gauge his reaction, to see if perhaps he would need a hug. Lori was the kind of nurse that was free with her hugs. A good woman. But right now, Hunter needed a moment to himself and he told her.

“Sure, sweetheart. Just don’t be too long.” She got up and paused at the door. “I don’t know how much time we have.” Sorrowfully, she nodded, her lips coming together in a line indicating sympathy. She took her time leaving his room, then he heard her quickened pace as she hurried down the long hallway to his nana’s bedroom.

Hunter didn’t know if he could do this. Part of him thought if he just stayed here in bed, he could delay or prevent the inevitable. If he could only freeze time at this moment, he would never have to face a world without Nana in it. He shook his head and chastised himself for being weak.

Feeling numb, Hunter roused himself from bed. He slid into the jeans and sweater he had left on the rocker by the window. He looked outside, where the inky darkness revealed nothing, a void. He knew Lake Michigan was out there and in the morning it would reveal itself in aqua or gray, depending on the quality of light, but right now it seemed as though the huge body of water had vanished. The night’s darkness pressed against his windows like something palpable, aching to get inside.

Barefoot, he padded down the hall to his grandmother’s bedroom. Ever since he had lost his parents at the age of five, this had been his home, and suddenly the big old house seemed strange and unfamiliar, as if he were seeing it for the first time. Here was the portrait of his father, painted when Daddy was sixteen, looking young and vibrant, and not that much different from Hunter: the same smile and auburn hair. And there was the old Oriental rug, its pinks, blues, and grays faded, leading the way to the door to his grandmother’s bedroom, which yawned open. Hunter stood for a long while, staring at that doorway and breathing in the smell of sickness that emanated from the room. “Go,” he whispered.

He ducked into the room. Nana lay propped up on her old four-poster bed, the one she had had since marrying Hunter’s grandfather about six decades ago. She looked small and shriveled, vulnerable and nearly lost among the pillows, blankets, and quilts that never could keep her quite warm. Her hair looked like gray straw and parts of her scalp peeked through. A few days ago, they had taken her off the IVs and oxygen, knowing there was no hope. The medical detritus stood in a corner of the room, looking like defeated soldiers.

Lori stood near the bed. When she saw Hunter, she leaned down and whispered to Nana, whose eyes fluttered open at the sound of the nurse’s voice. Although she had not been completely coherent for the past couple of weeks, a combination of the morphine she took to manage her pain and her own failing memory, her eyes brightened when she saw her grandson. She even managed a weak smile, which vanished almost as soon as it arrived, as if the effort to maintain it was just too much for the old woman.

It probably was.

Lori stepped away from the bed and donned a fleece she had left on a chair nearby. She hugged herself and then said, “I’ll leave you two alone. I’m going to run downstairs and call Dr. Blackstock.” She squeezed Hunter’s shoulder as she left the room.

Hunter sat down beside his grandmother on her bed. “Nana?”

“Hunter,” Nana croaked, her voice only an echo of the vibrancy it once had. She tried to lift her hand to his face but it appeared she didn’t have the strength, letting it drop back down to the bedding. She closed her eyes and swallowed; the latter action looked painful and Nana winced.

“Don’t talk, Nana. If it hurts, don’t talk.” He picked up one of her withered hands and covered it with both of his own, trying to impart some of his own warmth to the frail appendage, feeling now as if it had been made of parchment and bird bones. She nodded, staring up at him. She licked her lips. “I just want to go to sleep now. I’m ready. Can you tell the nurse?”

“Sure.” Hunter smoothed her hair away from her forehead and leaned in close. He bit his lips, not wanting to cry in front of the old woman. What if she didn’t know this was the end? He couldn’t be so cruel as to reveal that to her. And even as he thought these things, he knew—deep in his heart—that Nana knew perfectly well what was happening.

“Sleep. That sounds good.” Nana’s eyelids fluttered and closed. Hunter thought she had fallen asleep and simply sat with her for several minutes, holding her hand. Finally, he thought maybe he should creep away, hoping against hope that this was not the final moment. Lori could have been wrong after all.

But then Nana opened her eyes, and Hunter thought he needed to speak while there was still time and before he gave in to the tears and sobs that were clamoring inside. He gathered the old woman up in his arms and pulled her close. Placing his lips close to her ears, he thought for a moment, grasping for something profound to say, but finally decided on only:

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Nana whispered. She slumped back against the pillows.

Hunter covered his mouth. Was she gone? But her eyes opened once more, about half-mast, seeking him out even though his face was only inches from her own.

“Beaumont House,” she croaked.

“What?”

“Beaumont House. Promise me you’ll burn it.”

BUY LINK

Want more Rick Reed? You can find him on the internet at his website, blog, Facebook and Twitter. Be sure to check Rick out and learn more about this ingenious author.

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

Happy Writing!

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

THE SPOTLIGHT'S ON

and burning bright at Off the Keyboard where Sarah Grimm digs deep to uncover the real Sloane Taylor. Join me at HERE to learn more.

AND over at Melissa's Imaginarium ,Melissa Bradley has posted a completely different interview! Check it out HERE.

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

IT'S LIVE!

I'm so excited, Sultry In Sweden, Book Two of the Melt the Ice series, is now available through Amber Heat! Check out the gorgeous cover Trace Edward Zabar created. Isn't it terrific?

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BUY LINK

I'll be back later this week with two new releases from the fabulous Rick Reed. Until then...

Happy Writing!

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

WILLING TO VOICE YOUR OPINION?

If you are, then come on over to Rick Reed's blog where I'm asking readers a few pertinent questions. Leave a short comment for a chance to win a free copy of TEDDI TURNS ON.

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

IT'S A HUGE CELEBRATION!

Aspen Mountain Press is celebrating its Fourth ANNIVERSARY!! They've slated several days of chats, blogs, contests and more at a variety of places. Check out the list below and mark your calendars. It's a great opportunity to win cool prizes.

July 23rd kicks off the Anniversary parties with a sneak peek into the first three books to be released from AMP's new imprint line. Come on over to the AMP Community Loop for an opportunity to win more prizes.

July 24th is celebrating the Del Fantasma line and its authors. Love Cody, the vampire bartender matchmaker? Then this day is the one for you at the AMP Facebook Fan Page.

July 25th celebrates the horror, thriller and mystery writers from Aspen Mountain Press at The Romance Studio - from 10 am-6 pm ET.

And from 9-10 pm EST, join AMP authors for a live chat at Romance Junkies.

July 26th meet the M/M Authors and their fabulous books at at Raine Delight's Reader Loop from noon-8 PM ET.

July 27th celebrate with the Cougar Club line when the authors share yummy Cougar Club excerpts from their books at TRS_Blue Yahoo loop from 12 pm-8 pm ET.

July 28th celebrate with shifters, space pirates and other paranormal/Science Fiction stories. Meet the authors and read some yummy excerpts this day at Romance Excerpts Only Yahoo Loop 8 am-8 pm ET.

July 29th is hot erotica at Lizzie's Tea Room from Noon-8 PM ET.

And from noon until 9 pm, you can catch more erotica authors at FARChatters!

So it's erotica all day long, all over the web with AMP authors!

July 30th if you love vampires or a good fantasy story, then this day is for you! Celebrate with all AMP's vampires and fantasy characters, along with the authors are at LR Café from 8 am-5 pm ET.

July 31st meet the new Aspen Mountain Press authors. These authors are brand new to the stable would love for you to get to know them. Check out their upcoming books at the AMP Community Loop all day.

August 1st is their HUGE party on the Community Yahoo Loop. Come on over and party with all the AMP authors.

Prizes galore will be given away and if you haven't joined their newsletter, friended them on Facebook, twitter, and My Space, then please do so. You'll have extra chances to win just it as well as joining in on the chats, blogs and other fun stuff planned.

Keep an eye out on their blog and community loop as Aspen Mountain Press celebrates its FOURTH Anniversary.

I'll keep you posted on additional opportunities to win!

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

MURDER AND SEX - OH YEAH!

Today's guest author is the amazing Clare London who writes Man to Man, and no one does it better. Clare has a new release, BLINDED BY OUR EYES. This is a well-crafted mystery that has received stellar reviews and a book you'll definitely want to read.

For those of you who aren't familiar with Clare, here's a brief bio:

Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with the weekly wash, waiting for the far distant day when she can afford to give up her day job as an accountant.

She's written in many genres and across many settings, with novels and short stories published both online and in print. Clare likes variety in her writing, while friends say she's just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she's happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters.

Find details of her publications and plenty of free fiction at her website, as well as an invitation to her mailing list. You can also catch up with Clare on her blog. Visit her today and say hello!

BLINDED BY OUR EYES
Clare London
ISBN: 9781426890406
Carina Press



BLURB:

London art dealer Charles Garrett has devoted his life to appreciating and acquiring beauty, both in art and in his companions. His fashionable life is rocked to the core when he discovers the body of a young artist, Paolo Valero, in a pool of blood in his gallery.

As Paolo’s mentor, Charles is haunted by the horror of his violent death. Seeking closure, he investigates Paolo’s past and soon discovers a tangled web of motives and potential suspects, some closer to home than he ever imagined. He’s drawn to Antony Walker, an aggressive, handsome sculptor with unsavory ties to Paolo. Charles is unsettled by Antony’s forceful nature but irresistibly attracted to his passion and his art.

When the evidence points toward Antony’s guilt, Charles is thrown into emotional turmoil. Has he lost his heart to a killer?

EXCERPT (PG):

The sound of a man crying was the first shock. Deep, racking sobs echoing off the smooth walls of my showroom. The whole gallery was usually deserted and cool at this late hour, despite the urban truth that London never slept. Yet tonight something in the air resonated with tension. And huddled in the far corner was a slender, pale young man. Arms clenched around his drawn-up knees, his eyes hot and wet, staring at me through a fringe of bedraggled dark curls. He looked angry and scared, and for the first few seconds it was all directed at me.

Without thinking, I dropped my bag. I heard the thump as it hit the floor.

I’d never seen anyone who wasn’t a woman cry like this. The sound was strange, astonishingly loud and ugly, his breath rasping with each hiccup of anguish. His shoulders rose and fell awkwardly, the bones a shadowy silhouette under the thin fabric of his shirt, his knuckles white against the black fabric of his jeans.

How beautiful he still looked, how miserable yet how utterly fascinating. My thoughts disgusted me, yet at the same time I couldn’t deny them. As I stared back at him, the aggression in his eyes started to fade. Hope glinted there in its place.

Then I registered the blood on the floor around him. How the hell could I miss it? So much blood. It ran along the base of the far wall and pooled out over the floor, a shocking, plum-red stain on the pale wood. It was thick and unnaturally still, an occasional patch of it glistening under the dimmed overhead lights. Coagulated; no longer flowing. I had no idea how long ago it’d been fresh. The residue puddled around his bare feet and under his legs and arse, then slithered along the edge of the wall again, diverting around the base of a display case. I barely glanced at the case. It stood upright, but crooked as if broken, and the objects inside had been knocked over.

I just stared at the blood. Funny how these things strike you when you’re in shock; it was only after I noticed the mess that the smell hit me. Thick and putrid, seeping into my throat, daring me to gag. Why didn’t blood smell like this domestically? When I cut my hand, when I sliced meat? This was human blood in quantity, human life as it spilled. It had its own unique horror. Some of it had oozed between the young man’s toes—the dark crimson colour stark against the pale skin of his feet, a gruesome parody of piano keys. He sat like an island amongst a grisly sea, a pale shadow within the dark, viscous surround. When he put a hand out to the wall and started to ease himself up, I wanted to cry out, to tell him to stay still. I wanted to stop him spoiling the perfect, limpid surface around him, breaking the seal.

It was the shock made me think that way. Of course it was.

“Charles?” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been shouting. “God, I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life.” He took a couple of shaky steps toward me. His shoes and socks lay in a discarded pile against the wall, soaked red with the blood. I couldn’t take my eyes off the print left by his foot, a dark smudge on the area of clean floor behind him.

“Charles…?”

There were other footprints—messy, scattered marks on the floor beyond the display case. They weren’t all his. A large huddled object lay against the right-hand wall, half hidden behind the furniture. That area, too, was covered in blood. It wasn’t an object, of course it wasn’t. I was ashamed to have thought of it like one of my exhibits.

It was a body. The body of another young man, even paler, even more disturbed. Even more still.

BUY LINK

EXCERPT TWO:

Walker laughed again, but more softly. He’d made his coffee while still doing something with the tools on the table, gathering them up, putting them away in the wooden box. I couldn’t see around his torso, couldn’t see what his hands were doing in front of his body. I heard the bolt snap shut on the box and he turned back around.

“What are you doing there?” I said, too loudly. I didn’t seem to have full control of my voice. “Why are you bothering with that now? I just want to talk to you.” What are you hiding from me?

He just glared at me, his eyes dark and unwelcoming.

I glanced over at his work in progress. “What kind of themes do you work with, Walker? Did you work with Paolo? He’s…he was a very talented sculptor.” Is that why you were together—as artists? Or was your relationship something else? Something fierce…

“He was a shit,” Walker growled, shaking his head.

His bluntness shocked me. “That’s—what the hell do you mean?”

His eyes narrowed. “You think people shouldn’t speak ill of the dead? Paolo Valero leeched off people. He was pretty and he was talented, but for all the time I knew him, he was a liar and a thief.”

I was stunned. “Money?”

“He stole money, yeah. And materials. And ideas.” Walker sighed. “But he stole time and attention, too. From me—probably from you, too.”

“Why are you saying this? Why are you slandering him like this?”
For the first time I saw uncertainty in Walker’s expression. “You have no fucking idea, do you? It doesn’t mean I wasn’t his friend. Though plenty of people in this business will tell you he got everything he deserved.”

“What do you mean?” I nearly shouted.

Walker shook his head. His frown got deeper. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Is that what happened with you and Paolo?” I persisted. “What did he steal from you? How much?” Maybe too much?

Walker gazed steadily back at me. “You look at everyone like that, Garrett?”

“What do you mean?”

He took a step toward me, threateningly, yet I didn’t move away. I couldn’t identify the expression in his eyes, but it chilled me. “I know guys like you, right? Dealers.” He made it sound like a disease. “You watch other people create, you give your critique, then you pimp the goods. Always on the outside, never really involved. You look around this room with cold eyes. You see a block of stone, you see banknotes, where I see breath and beauty.”

I was furious—suddenly, blindingly furious. “Who do you think you are? You arrogant shit.”

He didn’t even flinch. “And that’s the same look you’re turning on me now. Appraising me.”

I couldn’t speak, my throat was closing tight with the anger. He was right, I couldn’t tear my eyes from him, but it was from anger, not admiration, wasn’t it? Nothing to do with the fierce, sensual attraction that emanated from him, the way his dark eyes caught and fascinated my attention.

“You’re looking at me the same way you look at the stone.” He stepped even closer. A trickle of sweat ran from his throat down the middle of his bare torso. I imagined it pooling above his navel, glistening and bobbing as his belly clenched.
“I’m not.” That’s not me.

“No?” he murmured. He peered at me, sounding puzzled. “Then it’s something else…” His chest was heaving, as if he had the same difficulty breathing as I did. Behind him, the point chisel was still on the edge of the table. He hadn’t locked it away with the other tools. Its handle was a foot from his grasp.

“Get away from me,” I whispered.

He frowned. “Say that again. And this time like you mean it.” He was still searching my face, but now his expression was confused, as if he’d lost whatever he was seeking. And then his eyes slid away from my face to my chest and down the whole of my body, slowly and carefully. When his gaze came back up, lingering for too long on my groin, I blanched. The sexual intent was never in any doubt.

And my body shuddered in response.

He looked back up at me and his hand lifted from his side as if he meant to reach out and touch something.

I stepped back. “Get away,” I repeated, sharply.

His eyebrows rose. He looked both startled and disappointed. “Yeah, just like I said. “Cold. You’re never going to melt that, Garrett, fucking men like pretty, passive Joseph. He’s never going to give you what you need.” He laughed without humour.

I lurched back another few steps, finally released from my strange paralysis. My escape from this room was only a few feet away, in seconds I could be out of the door and back down the stairs to the street.

“I can’t believe all this about Paolo.” I stared into Walker’s eyes, the pupils dilated. I could feel the door frame at my back now, I was brave in the face of my retreat. “Why do you talk about him like that? You want me to be as angry with him as you are. Were. Why?”

“Get out.”

“Were you fucking him?” I cried, and he recoiled. Had I struck a nerve? “Did you want revenge for whatever he’d done to you? Did he make you angry enough to want to hurt him?”

“None of that is your goddamn business,” he snarled. “I said, get the fuck out or else I—”

I dodged back before he could follow up his threat, away from him, my hand reaching blindly for the door handle. I stumbled out onto the landing. Not bothering with dignity or pride, I just dashed down the stairs two at a time. I felt an idiot, and a ridiculously scared one, too.

BUY LINK

I'll be back tomorrow with information on a wonderful celebration. :) 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

BUY LINK

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

FRENCH DELIGHTS IS A HIT

Melissa Bradley and Selena Illyria, close author friends, notified me on a new review for FRENCH DELIGHTS. Please forgive my unabashed joy, but I had to share what The Romance Studio posted on their site June 14.Thank you, Ammie for your great review and rating! I am ecstatic!!

FRENCH DELIGHTS
Naughty Ladies of Nice book 2
Sloane Taylor
ISBN: 978-1-60168-287-1
Aspen Mountain Press



Overall rating:
Sensuality rating: Explicit

FRENCH DELIGHTS is quite an adventure. I enjoyed my trip to the French Riviera. Sloane has written a wonderful tale of romance. The main characters are vivid and easy to like. Lisette is a real sweetheart, while Paul is a beautiful dreamer. The unsavory characters are also well written, and it is easy to loathe them. This short story has a lot packed into it, but it doesn't seem lacking. This is the second book in the Naughty Ladies of Nice collection, but I have not read the first. That doesn't take anything away from this story. It is a great stand alone. I do want to read the first one now. I know you will enjoy this erotic tale of French romance.

Reviewer: Ammie

You can read the complete review HERE

BUY LINK

Studs and I are off to celebrate tonight. You all have a beautiful weekend. I'll be back next week. Until then...

Happy writing!

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

LIFE IS GOOD

When you enjoy a perfect evening at an excellent restaurant. Studs and I were fortunate enough to have just that this past Saturday at Biaggi's Ristorante Italiano in Bloomington, IL.



We kicked off the evening with a cocktail at the bar until our table was set which only took a matter of minutes.



As usual, I was cheat sheeting the menu and rapidly scrawling the ingredients for Chicken Piemontese, Tilapia with Lemon Caper Cream and Formaggi Di Cappa, a delicious herbed goat cheese, when our server caught me. After a few jokes about me and a prison cell, Adam got down to the business of the day's specials and offered wonderful suggestions for the ideal dinner. Not only does he have a marvelous sense of humor, the man knows his food.

Throughout the expertly served meal we got to learn a little about Adam's life. He was originally from Elgin, Illinois and has worked in kitchens since the tender age of thirteen. Adam came to Bloomington to visit friends. One night they dined at Biaggi's, during which he chatted with the manager and head chef. The next day Adam was hired and prepared to relocate. We asked about his future plans. Adam's dream is to own a restaurant. From the short time we were together, Studs and I are confident this young man will be a huge success.

He shared a rib recipe with us but, like all creative cooks, didn't commit to the ingredient amounts. I don't think it would be hard for any of us to figure it out. I hope.

ADAM'S RIBS

Apple Cider
Brown Sugar
Chili Flakes
Spare Ribs

Pre-boil ribs until they almost fall off the bone.

Over medium heat bring the apple cider to a boil. Add brown sugar and chili flakes. Continue to cook until the sauce is candied.

Heat the oven to 350 F. Brush the sauce over the ribs and bake for 30 minutes.

Sure sounds good to me!

Biaggi's is a casual dress restaurant even though the tables are set with crisp linens. They offer superb fresh food and have a flair for creating an intimate atmosphere with subdued lighting and plenty of space between tables. It is a beautiful experience and one we will enjoy many times. It's a must, their menu's too tempting!

They have twenty restaurants around the country. To find the one closest to you click HERE. I guarantee you'll love the food at any of them. Unfortunately, you won't have Adam, and that's a real shame.

I'll be back tomorrow with a bit of unabashed self-promotion. :) Until then...

Happy Writing!

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

EMOTIONS AND PRIDE RUN HIGH

This is the second year Studs’ has worked the Special Olympics with the Lansing Knights of Columbus. The games are held in Normal, IL with 4,000 Illinois athletes competing in a variety of areas. Our athletes are swimmers and some of the best in the Nation. They work hard throughout the year to compete and we are proud of these fine men and women who won a wagon load of gold medals.

The Special Olympics committee announced that Illinois Law Enforcement raised an unprecedented 2.7 million dollars during the torch run. These fine officers give more than just time to provide an important aspect to the lives of people with special needs. Every parent, grandparent and friend appreciates all the extra hours and hard work Illinois Law Enforcement donates to bring our kids a better world.

Head Coach Dennis Sullivan asked Studs to parade in with four of our athletes for the opening ceremonies. This is done just like the Olympics only the athletes are representing areas instead of countries. It was an emotional time for us. Studs’ autistic brother Ed was one of the original competitors in Special Olympics. He passed away in April at 52. Studs was proud to walk in Ed’s memory.

Curtis, our top swimmer who is an Ambassador to the National Special Olympics in Nebraska this July, was given the high honor of lighting the torch by Illinois Attorney General Lisa Madigan. Trust me – there wasn’t a dry eye in the stadium Friday night.

I want to congratulate all the fine athletes for their sportsmanship and achievements. You kids ROCK!!!

I'll be back tomorrow with a dining experience you'll enjoy and to rave about Adam, the best server we've ever had the joy to meet. Until then...

Happy Writing!

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