Wednesday, November 04, 2015

Easy and Delicious

Preparing for the holidays is always hectic. This month I decided to keep dinners to a minimum amount of work, but still tasty. And most important, I wanted enough leftovers to freeze for December when the pace gets more intense.

One Pot Beef Stew
Egg Noodles
Tossed Salad
French or Italian Bread

Red Wine – Pinot Noir

Photo by KEKO64
One Pot Beef Stew
4 tbsp. olive oil plus more as needed
2 pounds sirloin cut into chunks with fat removed
4 large cloves of garlic pressed
10 sprigs of fresh thyme or 1 tsp. dried
1 large onion chopped
16 oz. Portobello mushrooms halved
¾ tsp dry mustard
freshly ground pepper to taste
4 tbsp. red wine vinegar
2 tbsp. tomato paste
2 tbsp. sour cream – make them a healthy ones
3 cups beef stock

Heat olive oil in a Dutch oven. Add onions and thyme. Cook until the onions are translucent. Add garlic and sauté for 30 – 60 seconds. Set this combination aside in a bowl.

Heat pan again adding olive oil if needed. Add mushrooms and sauté until soft. Remove to same bowl as onions.

Add olive oil to the same pan and heat on medium-high until the oil sizzles. Sprinkle dry mustard, then pepper, on steak chunks. Brown meat on all sides. Set the chunks in the bowl with the other ingredients.

On medium heat, pour red wine vinegar into the pan. Add tomato paste and blend in. Mix beef stock and sour cream in a small bowl, then add to pan. Bring to a simmer while stirring well to make a fairly smooth broth. Add meat and other cooked ingredients. Heat thoroughly while stirring.

Egg Noodles
Fill a large pot with water and follow the package directions to cook. If the noodles are done before the stew, drain them in a colander and set the pot or lid on top of the noodles to keep them warm.

REMEMBER: all noodles/pasta can easily be re-warmed by running hot water over them before serving.

To serve, scoop egg noodles into soup/salad bowls. Spoon hearty portions of stew over the noodles.

Salad
Lettuce from 2 different types torn into bite size pieces, green leaf and head are excellent
Tomatoes sliced
Cucumber peeled and sliced thick
Green Onions, sliced, be sure to include some of the green
Mushrooms sliced
Any and everything else in the fridge that appeals to you.

Combine all the dry ingredients into a large bowl. Cover with a damp paper towel and store in the fridge until ready to serve.

Your favorite bottled dressing or oil and vinegar work great with this hearty meal. Pour on a small amount of dressing and toss. Or, set a variety of bottled dressings on the table for everyone to help themselves.

Sloane Taylor is an Award-Winning author with a second passion in her life. She is an avid cook and posts new recipes on her blog http://sloanetaylor.blogspot.com every Wednesday. The recipes are user friendly, meaning easy.

Taylor currently has five explicit romance books released by Toque & Dagger Publishing. Excerpts from her books can be found on her website, blog, and all popular vendors.

Subscribe to Sloane’s newsletter. Connect with Taylor on Facebook, Twitter, and Google+.

Monday, November 02, 2015

A Modern Day Riddle

Who needs safe and boring when you can play with a pirate on the French Riviera?

The answer to this curious enigma lies within the pages of French Kiss, Naughty Ladies of Nice Book 4.

Burned-out author Rachel Conklin sparks her creativity on the French Riviera as a fishing boat cook. Things are smooth sailing until she’s thrown overboard into a storm-tossed sea. Rachel awakens to find herself staring into the eyes of a sexy pirate-looking hunk who changes the course of her life forever.

Dr. Henri Bernier is an analytical man with a quiet life and a job he loves. The last thing he expects to find when he anchors his treasured fishing boat in the sheltered harbor of a small island is an accidental mermaid washed ashore. He soon learns his perfect life leaves much to be desired.

Will desire save them or drown them in a perfect storm from their pasts?

EXCERPT
Warm tingles started low in her belly and zinged straight to her clit. A sensation she’d long missed but not forgotten. His lips were strong, supple, and teasing her own apart. Rachel opened her mouth and glided her tongue along his lips, loving the salty taste. The rasp of his beard on her tender cheek shot a jolt of electricity to the tips of her pebbled nipples. Her muscles tightened as moisture filled her panties. She was alive and wanted more. Somehow she found the energy to lace an arm around the broad shoulders leaning over her and curl her fingers in his long silky hair.

Her nipples puckered more with each stroke as he glided his hand along her spine, continuing lower over the curve of her ass to her thigh. Wet sand greeted her when he smoothly rolled them over. With little effort her legs parted, welcoming her secret pirate.

Nope, make that swashbuckler. More romantic.

Shivers raced through her and he held her closer. His body heat, a beautiful thing, shrouded them. Her breasts grew heavier, straining against her wet shirt, as his solid erection pressed into her belly. She wiggled closer, wanting—no, needing—to feel him inside her.

Indistinguishable sounds filled her ears. Forgotten lyrics from an old, sweet love song? She wanted to remember, but not enough to give up her fantasy man and the erotic glow of mystery sex.

“Mademoiselle, s'il vous plaît. Où est la blessure? Je suis médecin et peux vous aider.”

His foreign words and rich baritone were sexy music against her lips. He wanted her. His tender touch proved he did. Her eyelids fluttered as he spoke.

“Mademoiselle? Mademoiselle.”

A sting smarted against her cheek.

“Oh no, Sweet Lips, I don’t do rough.” Her words came out slurred and incoherent. “Doesn’t matter how sexy you are. Now stop hitting me before I return the favor with my fist.”

“Wake up, mademoiselle.” He tapped her again, more lovingly. “I asked where you are injured. I am a doctor and will help you."

What a great dream.

Her fantasy lover had the perfect voice and was a doctor to boot. Mom would be ecstatic. She wrinkled her nose. He could have at least showered before his seductive appearance. Sweet Lips smelled like a cesspit.

“Dammit, Sweet Lips, this is my dream. We’re doing this my way.” She reached for him, but before she made contact he pried open her eyelid. “Look, man, you are not playing by fantasy rules. I get to make up the seduction. You just do as told. Got it?”

Mademoiselle, this is the reality. You are très hurt and in need of immediate medical attention. Now, s'il vous plaît, stop your prattle and answer my questions.”

Rachel’s other eye sprang open. Her swashbuckler was squatted and rocking back on his heels. His five o’clock was nearing ten and his soaked clothes weren’t in much better shape than hers. No way in hell was this mangy guy a doctor.

Her heart stopped. Literally froze in her body.

Gagnon’s man.

She inhaled deeply to slow her banging heart and edged farther away from him toward safety. He reached for her, his expression grim. Without thought, she pushed off with her left hand.

“Son of a bitch.” A kaleidoscope of stars exploded before her eyes, followed by another whitecap of nausea.

“It does not appear to be broken. At the least, you have a severe sprain.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, refusing to show weakness. “Ya think?”

He cocked an eyebrow. Warm chocolate eyes stared straight into hers. “Did you know, mademoiselle, some believe sarcasm is the lowest form of humor but the highest mark of intelligence?”

“Then you’re pretty intelligent too.”

He laughed, a warm hearty sound that wrapped around her, undermining her resolve.

“So if you’re a doctor, where’s your little black bag?”

A smile to melt an iceberg split his face. He reached behind him, and then brought forward a worn satchel.

“Well, I’ll be dipped.” She really had to curb her suspicions.

Excusez-moi, but you already were.” His full lips twitched at the corners.

Good sense of humor.

He shrugged out of his rain slicker.

And muscular.

He draped the yellow, rubberized fabric around her shoulders. Instant warmth.


BUY LINKS
Amazon - Barnes & Noble - ARe - Smashwords

For those of you who don't know me, I'm an Award-Winning author who believes humor and sex are healthy aspects of our everyday lives. I carry that philosophy into my books. I write sexually explicit romances that take you right into the bedroom. Being a true romantic, all my stories have a happy ever after.

My books are set in Europe where the men are all male and the North American women they encounter are both feminine and strong. They also bring more than lust to their men’s lives.

I was born and raised on the Southside of Chicago. Studly, my mate for life, and I now live in a small home in Indiana and enjoy the change from city life. I'm an avid cook and post new recipes on this blog every Wednesday. The recipes are user friendly, and I strive for easy.

Currently I have six erotic romance books and one box set either released or coming soon from Toque & Dagger Publishing. Excerpts from these books can be found on my website, blog, and all popular vendors.

Subscribe to my short newsletter. Connect with with me on Facebook, Twitter, and Google+.

Happy reading!
Sloane

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

The Real and Wicked Wethersfield Witches

by Leigh Goff

For Halloween, I’d like to introduce everyone to a little American witch history. The first American witch trials took place in Wethersfield, Connecticut, a historic Puritan town near Hartford, in the sixteen-sixties. During this time, the Puritan population of Wethersfield was suffering from bouts of sickness and mental fits, for which they blamed the devil, who was surely acting through powerful female vessels who had succumbed to his evil charms.

Neighbors spied on one another and casted blame on women like Rebecca Greensmith. In 1662, several witnesses spied her dancing, drinking, and making merry in the woods with other accused witches. Then a neighbor afflicted with fits of blasphemy accused Rebecca of bewitching her. The Wethersfield witch hunts were followed by trials presided over by the Reverend Increase Mather (his son, Cotton, grew up to be just like dad and, a few decades later, had his own hands bloodied with the Salem Witch Trials). Rebecca, who was not afraid to hide her wicked side, admitted to having conversations with the devil, claiming to form a pact with him, as well as colluding with other witches in the woods. Her shocking confession along with, in the Reverend Mather's judgment, her lack of fear for God, her familiarity with the devil, and her involvement in unnatural events, was enough for him to condemn her to death by hanging.

The historical event left me to wonder…what if Rebecca's story did not end there? After all, she admitted to having an alliance with a powerful figure and she had a reputation for hexing neighbors. Who is to say she did not have time to take her vengeance on the Mather bloodline before the noose slipped over her neck?

This question along with the Wethersfield history inspired my newly released YA fantasy, Disenchanted, where Sophie Goodchild, my curious and impetuous sixteen-year-old half-witch protagonist, is a modern-day descendant of the aforementioned Rebecca Greensmith.

As Sophie struggles with her emerging magic and deals with a group of full-blooded witch frenemies, her impatience and curiosity lead her into trouble. She meets the mysterious Alexavier Mather, a descendant of Increase Mather who had a hand in hanging Sophie's ancestor at Gallows Hill. When he reveals his name, she immediately hates him, but senses he is hiding a dark secret and there’s nothing Sophie loves more than uncovering a good secret.

Danger finds her as she delves into the mysteries from both their families’ pasts. Then she begins to fall for the forbidden Alexavier who reveals that his bloodline is hexed with a true love curse that could destroy them.

Alas, there is hope. If Sophie can learn how to tap into the mysterious power of her blood-red diamond charm and find an ancient book of dark spells, she might be able to disenchant the Mather bloodline and save them both.

However, she must first deal with the deadly threat that is Alexavier’s father, Judge Mather, and he has a nasty secret of his own that will drive Sophie to make an impossible choice, one from which she may never return…

As the vision wore off, the glass jar tumbled from my fingers and smashed into tiny shards against the porcelain of the sink. I crumpled to the bathroom floor. The vision of Elizabeth’s last night was her final message. I cradled my face in my hands. My hatred for the judge was no different from Rebecca’s in its depth and darkness. I hated that it was, but I was going to need it. It would carry me through the ritual necessary to save Alexavier. I gripped the edge of the vanity and pulled myself to standing.

I touched my hand to my bloodcharm and dressed in the uniform then took a deep breath as I slid the ceremonial black robe off its hanger and tied the satin belt around my waist. I smoothed my hands against the front panels of fabric, feeling the cold silk against my fingertips. An icy trickle of darkness, the same liquid black ice I felt before listening to Judge Mather and Laney, traveled the length of my arm.

This time, I invited it in.

I felt the darkness tame my impetuous nature, allowing me to feed slowly on the hatred and control it. The coldness flowed through my veins and to the lengths of each limb. The icy darkness pooled in my chest and chilled my heart.

The change was beginning. “Elizabeth, I hope you’re right about the magic in me being able to change black hearts ’cause I’m going to need it for my own.”

The doorbell chimed, startling me to a more alert state. “Hold on,” I shouted. I opened the duffel bag and removed the knife and vial before tossing the robe in. I stuffed the small items in my skirt pocket and carried the bag with me downstairs, setting it in the foyer. I clenched my hands tightly together before opening the door. “Cal? What are you doing here?” I asked, shocked to see him on my doorstep.

“I was worried about you,” he said abruptly, entering the house and grabbing me by the hand.

“I don’t have time for this right now. I have a meeting with my aunt tonight,” I implored impatiently.

“A meeting?” He noticed the gray skirt and white shirt. “Not yet.” He led me to the kitchen and pulled a chair out.

He studied me and grimaced. “Sophie, I don’t know what’s going on, but I get the feeling you’re in trouble.” Perhaps it was his connection to tribal magic, but beyond his tough guy exterior, he was surprisingly intuitive.

“Cal, I’ll be fine. I’m a little stressed and tired, that’s all.” I blinked, feeling a strange weight on my lashes. I glanced at my hands, turning them over. My skin looked luminescent. Flawless. I smacked my lips together, feeling their plumpness.

He scrunched his face up as he eyed me. “Tired? You don’t look tired. Are you wearing makeup?”

I raced to the foyer mirror, out of Cal’s view. My heart-shaped lips bloomed a blood red, my lashes thickened and bowed upward like the arms of a goddess, a dewy glow radiated from my flawless ivory complexion, and as I watched, the messy knot unrolled down the length of my back into a wavy sea of glossy sable hair. My mouth fell open.

“I wasn’t finished.” Cal marched toward me. “Whoa. What is going on?”

I turned to him, having to act like I normally did. “Nothing.”

His eyebrows arched. “Something. Did you get a makeover in the last thirty-seconds?”

I gathered my silky hair and draped the long smooth tresses over one shoulder. “I’m trying something new. Don’t make fun.”

He shook his head, stupefied. “Whatever. I came here to give you something.” He took a breath as if to say something else, but he stopped. Our friendship had evolved and deepened into a mutual love for each other; a love between friends, but nonetheless sacred and forever.

I shook my hands at him. “Cal, don’t. It’s not...”

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and extracted a tangle of black leather string. Angst crossed his bronzed brow. “I want you to wear this.”

I glanced at the object resting in his open palm; a small wood carving attached to leather strands. The amulet was the size of a postage stamp.

“It’s a talisman carved from eucalyptus wood. It wards off evil spirits and will protect you.”

“Is this a white magic token?” He smiled without explanation. “Cal, it’s incredibly thoughtful of you. I love it. But I can’t take that.” I didn’t deserve to wear it at the moment, not as the darkness spread through me like the poison Romeo drank, silencing the warmth in my heart. My lips tingled. “Your mom wouldn’t like it.”

His lips twisted to the side and his expression was one of rejection. “I think she would be okay if she saw it on you.” He smiled, a hint of sadness seeped into the corners of his mouth. “Here...” He took my hand and looped the leather around so the talisman dangled delicately from my wrist. I could feel his gentle touch on my skin as he secured it. He placed his large hands on my shoulders and looked at me. “Promise you’ll be okay?”

A laugh cracked through my stress. “Promise.” Cal’s sentiment was deeply appreciated. He never failed to make me laugh, even as the temperature of my heart dropped.

He leaned in and kissed my cheek as a small tear escaped from my eyes. “You better be.” The doorbell rang again. It was too late to stop him. In one long stride, Cal turned the knob before I could move.

Alexavier stood in the doorway, glaring at Callum with disapproval and irritation. “Callum, what a surprise to find you here,” he said gruffly, sarcasm saturating his voice.

“I’m trying to take care of my girl.”

I didn’t want Cal to mess this up. I still needed one thing from Alexavier. Alexavier spoke directly to him. “Callum, I know you care about Sophie, but I can take care of her. She doesn’t need you.” He kept his voice low, but his tone was protective and threatening.

Callum stepped closer to him.

“Callum, this will not end well for you if you insist on challenging me,” Alexavier warned. His voice remained even, but his body was poised to fight if Callum insisted.

I wiped my cheek and stomped toward them. “Please, stop this. Please! I care about you both, but Callum, you need to go,” I pleaded, fearing Cal would snap. I pulled on Alexavier’s arm roughly to break the defensive eye contact he maintained with Callum.

“I’m not afraid, Mather. I also don’t need my fists to prove I’m the better man. Sophie will see that one day,” he snarled ferociously.

I flashed my eyes wide. My jaw jutted out. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was the last thing I wanted to deal with or could deal with and I feared what I would do under the influence of my choice. “Callum... leave now!” I didn’t care about hurting anyone’s feelings at the moment. My emotions were shifting beyond that.

He pushed past Alexavier in a huff to leave. Alexavier ignored the action, focusing his attention on me. I was relieved he didn’t engage Callum in a fight. He stood before me, astoundingly handsome in a blue button down shirt. He grasped my hands and looked deeply into my eyes. “What was that all about?”

My blackening heart skipped a beat. “I’m sorry about Callum. I don’t know what got into him.”

“Jealousy, I would say. I warned you.”

“I don’t want to believe that’s it.”

His fingers gently pressed against my hand and wrist, lifting them to inspect the talisman. “Did he give you this?” A combination of regret and jealousy lined his voice.

“It’s to keep evil spirits away,” I replied as I touched the wood carving with my fingertips.

He sighed. Our future was under a black cloud from the past where Rebecca’s curse and his father’s mistakes affected us in the present. And after tonight, even if the ritual went according to plan, there was no guarantee things would be the same or better for us. I was risking my life and my soul. Even if I survived breaking the curse and the reconversion, I would be different, changed, tainted from the black magic I had already invited into my heart and it might all be for nothing.

Buy Links:
Mirror World Publishing - Amazon


Leigh Goff loves writing young adult fiction with elements of magic and romance because it's also what she liked to read. Born and raised on the East Coast, she now lives in Maryland where she enjoys the area's great history and culture.

Leigh is a graduate of the University of Maryland, University College and a member of the Maryland Writers' Association and Romance Writers of America. She is also an approved artist with the Maryland State Arts Council. Her debut novel, Disenchanted, was inspired by the Wethersfield witches of Connecticut and was released by Mirror World Publishing. Leigh is currently working on her next novel, The Witch's Ring which is set in Annapolis.

Learn more about Leigh Goff on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads.

Monday, October 26, 2015

Top-Notch Science Fiction

I'm happy to introduce you to Tom Olbert, a gifted science fiction/horror author with a devilish sense of humor. Tom and eleven other wonderful authors came together and created an anthology well worth reading. Visions II: Moons of Saturn is available in paperback and e-book.

Ice mining in space, colonization of extraterrestrial moons, war between interplanetary corporations, and time travelers bent on destruction, with mighty Saturn as the backdrop.

The theme, Moons of Saturn, provided inspiration for the creation of widely divergent tales centered about the mysterious planet and its system.

NASA’s Cassini Missions have captured stunning images of Saturn, its mesmerizing Rings of ice and rock, and its 53 officially named moons. These twelve authors present their visions of the Saturn System’s promise, as rich and diverse as the reality of Saturn, its Rings, and moons.

The second book of the Visions Series, this anthology features: Tom Tinney, W.A. Fix, Thaddeus Howze, Ami Hart, Bonnie Milani, Jeremy Lichtman, S.M. Kraftchak, Timothy Paul, Tom Olbert, Amos Parker, R. E. Jones, and Duane Brewster.

• In the depths of an ice mine on Dione, embattled troopers combat alien amoeba in the frigid tunnels.

• Wry humor combines with eccentricity in a tale of time traveling disaster.

• Enemies team up to complete a mission, in an intense tale of revenge.

• Security teams from opposing corporations, battle for possession of lunar mining operations.

The Visions Series tells of our urge to venture outward and to explore the Universe. Visions: Leaving Earth, describes our first faltering steps to rise from Earth’s surface. Visions II: Moons of Saturn confirms that we have left the Earth and are at home in our solar system. Visions III: Inside the Kuiper Belt proclaims humankind’s domination, from the Sun to the outermost reaches of the Kuiper Belt.

Beyond these volumes, we will explore outside our solar system: Deep Space and the Near Stars, Colonizing the Milky Way, and Understanding the Universe. Our vision is limitless.

BUY LINKS Lillicat Publishers - Smashwords - Amazon

Tom Olbert lives in Cambridge, MA, home of Harvard, M.I.T., liberals and wackos. When not writing science fiction and horror or working, Tom volunteers for candidates and causes he cares about, like the environment and civil rights. Tom’s father Stan Olbert was a fighter in the Polish resistance during WWII and later a professor of physics at M.I.T. Tom’s mother, Norma Olbert has self-published Stan Olbert’s life story: “The Boy from Lwow”, now available in paperback. Tom’s sister Elizabeth Olbert is an accomplished artist and now a teacher of art at the University of Maine.

Olbert's fiction has appeared in a number of anthologies, including “In the Bloodstream” by Eden Royce, “Torched” from Nocturnal Press and “Something Wicked Vol. II” from EKhaya.

Tom has a dark, cosmically-themed science fiction/psycho drama novel entitled “Black Goddess” now available at Mocha Memoirs Press in addition to two dark sci-fi shorts “Hellshift” and “Along Came a Spider” also available from Mocha Memoirs Press. He also has a vampire novelette entitled “Desert Flower,” a tragic tale of love, war and eternal darkness set in the midst of the Afghanistan war, available now from Eternal Press.

Learn more about Tom Olbert on his blog Other Dimensions.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Marci Boudreaux is in the House

I’m so thrilled that The Forgotten Path is now available! Some of you may know, I not only write contemporary romance as Marci Boudreaux, but I write steaming hot erotica as Emilia Mancini.

This book really was a labor of love. A very long, painful labor…

Most of my books just flow. The stories are there and ready for the telling. Annie’s story was not like that. And it drove me freaking mad!

This story, much like the main character, was stubborn, impossible to move along when it wasn’t ready, but absolutely worth the trouble.

Annie, the heroine, doesn’t much care for emotions. She thinks emotions make her weak…or worse…vulnerable. She’s tough. Strong. Independent. And head over heels in love with her employee.

She would have been perfectly content to keep pretending not to have feelings for him, but Marcus is going to have none of that. He is just what Annie needs—someone just as tough and willing to push her to accept that she is, much to her dismay, human.

Just when Annie and Marcus get on the same page and take the steps needed in order for them to be together without corrupting her moral fiber, tragedy strikes and their love for each other is tested in ways neither of them would have ever imagined.

EXCERPT
He bit his lip. Hard. As if trying to stop himself from saying what he was thinking. “Annie, I’ve been…”

Oh, God, don’t say it, she silently pled.

He tried again. “For the longest time…” He a humorless laugh left him as he let his words trail again. Finally, he met her gaze again. “You’re probably going to fire me, but—”

She shook her head. “I can’t fire you, Marcus. You’re invaluable. Whatever it is, I’m sure you can work it out.” She took a step and tried to squeeze by him. “Just take a few days off or…” Great. Now she was the one who couldn’t finish a thought.

He dropped his hand to her hip, and she closed her eyes. His touch sent volts of electricity shooting through her, lighting every nerve. She wanted nothing more than to lean up and kiss the life right out of the man. For some reason, though, putting herself in a position where she could be sued for sexual harassment didn’t seem like a wise business move. Not that she thought Marcus would ever go that far, but people change. Situations get awkward and out of hand.

It was best to avoid the possibility of things going wrong between them and just ignore how much she wanted him.

“Marcus,” she whispered.

“I have been attracted to you for so long, Annie. I thought I was alone in this,” he said in the same hushed tone, “but lately I’ve started to think…you feel it, too.”

She licked her lips and lowered her face. Shit. He said it. The elephant in the room was out there now and neither could ignore it any longer. “I’m your boss.”

“I know.”

“I can’t. We can’t.”

“I know. But I swear to God, I’m about to lose my mind from wanting you.”

Oh, damn.

Her knees actually went weak, and she leaned back against the doorjamb to stay standing.

“I think about you all the time. I know it’s wrong. But all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you.”

A whimpering moan left her as he closed the distance between them. He stopped a fraction of an inch from her mouth and, goddamn it, the temptation gripped her so hard she could barely breathe.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same,” he whispered. “Tell me to stop. And I will.”

She should. She had to. But the words wouldn’t leave her.

“Tell me to go to hell, Annie.”

BUY LINK

As a teen, Marci Boudreaux skipped over young adult books and jumped right into the world of romance novels. She's never left. Marci lives with her husband, two kiddos, and their numerous pets. Until recently, she was a freelance writer appearing monthly in a variety of local magazines. She now focuses on writing and her work as a content editor.

Romance is her preferred reading and writing genre because nothing feels better than falling in love with someone new and her husband doesn't like when she does that in real life.

Learn more about Marci Boudreaux on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter.

Monday, October 19, 2015

FEEL THE HEAT

With the latest from USA Today best-selling author Sam Cheever. Slow Burner is just one scorcher in the multi-author box set anthology Into the Flames that is shown below.

SC_SlowBurner_600x900
A love that burns slowly burns longest, creating the greatest heat.

Though they haven’t seen each other for fifteen years, Duncan Yves has never forgotten Hilda Bennet, or the feelings of love and protection she engendered in him when they were kids. So when she becomes the target of a madman who kills with fire and calls his deadly work Art, it seems perfectly natural for Duncan to try to protect her. Unfortunately, he soon learns that protecting Hilda just might bring the past crashing back down on both of them.

Hilda was just a girl when she last saw Duncan, and her childish dreams of living with him behind a picket fence were squashed when he went away. But when they finally find each other again, the past that separated them all those years earlier still seems determined to keep them apart.

Can they nurture the embers of a love that was forged in childhood into the full-fledged inferno it seems destined to be? Or will the destruction of yesterday’s fire finally smother that blossoming flame, and leave their love in ashes?
~~*~~
Hilda Bennet swallowed down a cry of alarm, her hand tightening on the blanket she clutched against her chest.

The sexy fireman she’d been talking to raised his arm, waving a greeting to the man strolling toward them across the yard. The man’s serious green gaze was locked on hers, his square jaw flexed as the wide mouth tightened. A mouth she knew would have just the tiniest overbite, a sexy trait that made her want to nibble his upper lip.

She’d know that rolling gate anywhere. The broad shoulders, long, long legs, and fringe of dark brown hair across his forehead that always made him look like he’d just rolled out of bed.

She realized with a start that he probably had just climbed out of bed, and dueling sensations of lust and guilt formed a knot beneath her ribs.

“Here’s the fire investigator I told you about,” the fireman said. “He’ll get to the bottom of this, Miss. Don’t worry.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze skating guiltily away from the approaching man. Hilda clamped down on an irrational desire to make a run for it. Surely after all these years she had nothing to fear from Duncan Yves. Surely he’d lost his almost supernatural power over her.

But as he came within a few feet of where she stood, his sexy, green eyes narrowing slightly as if he’d just recognized her, Hilda realized the power he had over her hadn’t waned in the years since they’d last seen each other. In fact, she realized as he stopped in front of her, his delicious scent heating the air between them, that the years might as well have never happened.

Because she was still just as in love with him as she’d ever been.

“Ash.” Duncan’s deep voice rolled down her spine like hot oil, making her stomach clench with need.

“Dunc, this is Ms. Bennet. She was in the home when it went up in flames.”

Duncan smiled and her heart stopped beating. “Miss Bennet.” Her throat clamped down and she suddenly couldn’t swallow.

She waited for him to recognize her, torn between hoping he did and being mortified at the thought that he might. “Mr. Yves.”

He blinked. “You know me?”

Panic drew blood from her face and she felt momentarily faint. She’d screwed up…given too much away. He hadn’t given her his last name, yet she’d known it. Her thoughts flew, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. She shook her head, staring helplessly at him. If only he’d give some sign he knew her… Finally, his friend the fireman saved her.

“I told her I’d called the best fire investigator in the city.” The fireman clasped hands with Duncan. “Thanks for coming out at this ungodly hour on your day off, man.”

Duncan nodded, his gaze sliding over her. She could almost see his thoughts turning as he catalogued her condition… the soot covering her hair and skin…the skimpy nightgown beneath the borrowed blanket. “Is there someplace I can take you, Ms. Bennet? Family? Friends? We can talk about what happened along the way.”

She panicked at the thought of being alone with him in a car. Or anywhere. “Don’t you need to go over the scene?”

His smile was cool, detached. She realized with disappointment that he didn’t know who she was. “I’ll walk the perimeter before we go, but I can’t go inside until things have cooled down a bit.”

“Oh.” She cast around for an excuse not to go with him. “I…uh…”

“Duncan?”

He turned away and Hilda breathed a sigh of relief.

A beefy man in a police uniform strode toward them, his gaze sliding a little too comfortably over her. Duncan threw a set of keys toward Ash. “I have some clean sweats in my backseat. Can you make sure Ms. Bennet gets them? I’m sure she’s freezing.” He scoured a sizzling look over her bare feet and legs and the knot of need coiling in her lower belly tightened further.

She watched him move away, drawn toward her ravaged home by the other man, who was talking and gesticulating as they walked.

She was so caught up in watching his taut, round behind move away from her that the fact his friend was talking to her didn’t register until he placed a hand on her arm. Hilda jumped, blinking rapidly.

Ash lifted his hand, smiling at her like she was a terrified kitten in a tree. “Sorry to startle you. Let’s go get you some clothes. You’re starting to turn blue.”

She wanted to argue. The idea of wrapping herself in Duncan’s clothes…his scent…was almost more than she could bear on top of the night’s traumatic events. Unfortunately, Ash wasn’t wrong. She was so cold her skin had taken on a bluish hue and she knew all too well that shock was a danger. So she nodded and let herself be pulled toward the big, black truck on the street. But she couldn’t stop herself from glancing back in the direction Duncan had gone. Just to get one last look at him

Sam Cheever is a USA Today best-selling author who writes romantic paranormal/fantasy and mystery/suspense, creating stories that celebrate the joy of love in all its forms. Known for writing great characters, snappy dialogue, and unique and exhilarating stories, Sam is the award-winning author of 50+ books and has been writing for over a decade under several noms de plume.

If you haven't already connected, Sam would love it if you Liked/Followed her wherever you enjoy hanging out online. Here are her online haunts:
Newsletter - Website - Amazon Author Page - Facebook - Twitter - Pinterest - Tsu

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Release Date: Tuesday, September 29, 2015
ISBN: 9781626228832 (Seaside Publications)
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Wednesday, October 14, 2015

A Meal from the Heart

by Viki Lyn

I was raised in a family of chefs. My grandfather left his hometown in Italy as a young lad, and crossed the Atlantic Ocean during the early 20th century. From New York City, he boarded a train to California. He had work lined up in San Francisco as a sous chef in a prestigious hotel where he learned his trade.

My father inherited my grandfather’s love of food and was an excellent cook. My father never measured anything, so when he wrote down a recipe it was a pinch of this and handful of that.

This recipe is all about a pinch of this and a handful of that. You can add whatever you have in the fridge…be creative…and have fun.

Light Pasta Sauce

Start with simmering garlic in olive oil. Stir occasionally. Adjust heat as needed so you don't burn the garlic.

Snoop around your vegetable bin and decide which veggies to use. The only essential vegetable is the tomato!

I’m partial to my old standbys:

Mushrooms
Fresh Tomatoes
Zucchinis
Red Bell Peppers

Chop the veggies, but not too small.

Once the garlic is lightly roasted, add in the mushrooms and bell peppers first. After a couple of minutes, mix in the chopped zucchinis. After another couple of minutes, stir in the tomatoes.

This is when I like to include salt, pepper and Italian herbs. And, if you have fresh chopped basil, toss it in. It adds a nice taste to the sauce.

Cook the pasta and before you add the sauce: Toss the cooked pasta in a light coat of olive oil and lemon juice, and add the sauce.

Top with Parmesan or Romano cheese. Serve with a crisp salad and plenty of fresh Italian bread for dipping into the sauce.

Enjoy!

And for dessert, here’s a peek into my latest M/M from Loose Id.

Rocker Leo needs a break. From the band, roadies, everything related to his present life. Wandering the streets of Vienna, he chances upon a poster that just might change his life. Andre Revele, renowned violinist, and Leo’s ex-lover, is performing in the city. It’s been years since Leo slipped out of Andre’s life in the middle of the night, but he's never forgotten their passionate love of music and each other.

Andre’s shocked when Leo shows up backstage after his performance. Hell yes, he’s angry, but he can’t walk away. Against his better judgment, he invites Leo to his hotel for a drink. Not sure what he wants from Leo, he knows what his body wants right now. A night of passionate sex leads to another, until he’s lost his heart to Leo again.

When Andre finds his trust in Leo tested, Leo must prove his loyalty by using their one common passion – music – to bind their hearts.

EXCERPT
Leo finished his cappuccino. He needed a break. From the band, roadies, everything related to his present life. He tried to ignore the constriction in his chest. He hadn’t written anything in months, and that scared the shit out of him. His bandmates were like his brothers, but as much as he loved them, it wasn’t the same as having a lover who completely got him. He had no one to turn to when in a funk.

He hoped to God he still had more words inside him. For all of his flamboyance on stage, his real love was composing.

Leo paid the check and left. Too wound up to go back to his hotel, he roamed the streets, taking in the Vienna night. Stars sparkled above St. Stephen’s gothic spire. The wide boulevards twisted into narrow lanes perfect for getting lost in.

Happy to wander aimlessly, Leo slipped his hands into his fleece-lined jacket. Living in LA, he’d forgotten how cold winter could be in other parts of the world. He turned the corner and sputtered to a halt. Staring at the poster pasted to the side of a building, he didn’t need to read the name of the virtuoso to know who it was. He could never forget that face in rapture—when playing or getting off. Music and sex had invoked the same feelings in Andre Revele. Passion was passion, and that man had always had both in spades.

Numbness swept across Leo as he stared at the picture of Andre caressing the bow in those slender-fingered hands—such artistic hands on a large man. It had been love at first sight—or at least lust—when Leo had walked into the practice room.

He could still remember a youthful Andre, not quite grown into his robust physique, as he played the last stanza of Bach’s Concerto in E. The violin’s notes had faded, but the music had remained in the air long after the performance was over. Bright green eyes peered through dark lashes, and sensual, pouty lips morphed into a shy smile. Like an idiot, Leo had been at a loss for words at Andre’s performance and enamored by that handsome face. Until Andre laughed, breaking the spell.

From that day forward, they were inseparable. They both had insatiable appetites for music. They stayed up all hours talking about philosophy and musical composition, and arguing what was better, thin-crust or thick-crust pizza. They played music together, fucked, and enjoyed the simple moments that composed their insular world.

He scanned the poster for the dates of the concerts. Tomorrow night was the last performance. Leo shuffled his feet, unable to move away. He bit his lip and traced the image of Andre. Did he dare go? It had to be fate. He’d been thinking of Andre, talking about the past with Sid, and now this.

His heartbeat quickened. What if he went backstage and Andre didn’t recognize him? Or brushed him aside? Leo had purposely avoided searching the Internet for news of Andre, too afraid that his ex had a lover, or worse, had married. Their lifestyles were miles apart, and Leo could never think of Andre as a friend.

He drank in Andre’s image. Tall and broodingly dark, Andre had the body of a jock and the sensitive heart of an artist. Leo preferred men unlike himself. He’d been a skinny kid, and had a difficult time gaining weight. If he’d been born years earlier, he would have been the perfect face for a glam rock band. At least he’d outgrown the term pretty boy or twink.

Leo chewed his lower lip as he studied Andre’s picture. Tempting as it was to see his ex again, visiting the past was a bad idea. This wasn’t the time, not when Leo was restless and bored. His heart couldn’t take a rejection from Andre. There were other men, lots of men, and he’d had his share of quite a few of them. With his schedule it had become impossible to form any long-term commitment. Or at least that was what he told himself.

A big, fat lie.

He’d never met anyone who made him feel the way he’d felt for the violinist.

Leo kissed his fingers and pressed them to Andre’s lips. “Good-bye, Princess.” Andre hated that pet name, but Leo loved using the endearment. Andre had been born into wealth and privilege, and his family had expected great things from him. “You proved them right, didn’t you?”

Before Leo changed his mind, he hurried away, dismissing the memories of a love lost to his ambition.

BUY LINK

Multi-published and award winner, Viki Lyn is a successful writer of gay paranormal and contemporary romance. After reading and collecting whatever she could get her hands on, she wrote her first male/male romance. And that was ‘it’ for her. She never looked back. Viki travels the world in search of inspiration. She considers herself blessed to have traveled to many of the mystical sites she had dreamed about as a child. Her travel experiences have been influential in creating her paranormal worlds. When she needs to relax, she calls a friend to meet at their favorite coffee house. When the chattering in her head goes off the charts, she plays one of her favorite RPGs on her PS4 and immerses herself in the world of dragons and magic.

Learn more about Viki Lyn on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter.

Monday, October 12, 2015

FREE for a Limited Time Only


Bon Appétit...Satisfy all your cravings at cooking school.

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

Mark Anderson is incognito and hating every moment. To pose as a student while keeping tabs on a rich wild child is his version of hell, until he partners with the dish of Crème Brulée good enough to eat.

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

EXCERPT
Mark pasted a cheery smile on his face. Hell, he was getting the hang of this cooking stuff. He tipped the mountain of cheese piled on his platter and leaned closer to the stove, eyeing the pan that looked too small to hold it all.

“Stop!” Doni held up her tiny hand. “You cannot toss all that in here.”

He stumbled backward. What the hell? He’d done exactly what she told him. She couldn’t blame him because the damn block of cheese grated up to Matterhorn size.

“Are you sure you’re in the right cooking school?” She threw in a handful of the white shreds and shuffled the pan until one side of the omelet flipped over the other.

“Are you sure it’s cooked?” He pointed at the pan. “Looks kind of pale to me.”

“Are you sure you know anything about food?” She glared at him while wiping her slender fingers on a striped blue towel. “Sebastien, this is the easiest dish we’ll prepare. What’s going to happen when we advance to boeuf à la mode and present it?”

Now she had him on this present thing, let alone whatever the hell kind of food she meant. If it even was food.

“No problem. I’m your man and ready to step up to the plate.” Dammit. How stupid was that, to make a baseball reference? Quick, change the subject. “What’s next?”

She handed him a coffee cup.

Good, a caffeine jolt would go good about now.

“Snip the chives.”

“Ah, sure.” He gingerly took the mug, wondering what the hell she expected of him.

“These, Sebastien”—she waved a handful of limp skinny green sticks at him—“are chives. From the onion family.” She shook her head, then slid the omelet onto an oval platter. When he didn’t move, she slapped a pair of scissors into his palm. “Do I have to do it for you?”

“You don’t have to be insulting.”

“I apologize.” She tossed her head to move a thick strand of hair from her cheek. He looped the blonde lock around his finger—pure silk—then curled it behind her ear. Her breath quickened and his heart swelled. He leaned into her, needing to taste her pink lips. The sweet aroma of flowers filled his lungs.

“Chives.”

Before he could say anything, Chef edged between them.

“Interesting.” Chef took the platter from Doni. “Perhaps a bit plain, do you not think?”

She gasped when he grabbed a handful of some chopped green thing and plopped the wad on her omelet, obliterating the light-colored food.

Pierre flapped overhead, squawking like he had steak knives shoved up his ass. He hovered over the platter, then plop!

“We are always whipping up something new in the kitchen.” Chef sniffed and raised his fist to the bird. “This, however, can never be on a menu.”

He dropped the plate back into Doni’s hands and strolled on to the next pair of fledgling chefs.

Doni blinked rapidly as she pressed her lips tight. Mark slung an arm around her shoulder, feeling guilty as hell that he’d done nothing to stop...

FREE LINKS
Amazon - ARe - Barnes & Noble - Kobo - Smashwords

For those of you who don't know me, I'm an Award-Winning author who believes humor and sex are healthy aspects of our everyday lives. I carry that philosophy into my books. I write sexually explicit romances that take you right into the bedroom. Being a true romantic, all my stories have a happy ever after.

My books are set in Europe where the men are all male and the North American women they encounter are both feminine and strong. They also bring more than lust to their men’s lives.

I was born and raised on the Southside of Chicago. Studly, my mate for life, and I now live in a small home in Indiana and enjoy the change from city life. I'm an avid cook and post new recipes on this blog every Wednesday. The recipes are user friendly, and I strive for easy.

Currently I have six erotic romance books and one box set either released or coming soon from Toque & Dagger Publishing. Excerpts from these books can be found on my website, blog, and all popular vendors.

Subscribe to my short newsletter. Connect with with me on Facebook, Twitter, and Google+.

Wednesday, October 07, 2015

Twenty Minutes to Mouthwatering Bliss

by HL Carpenter

Some like it hot, some like it cold, some like it in a pot nine days old. Remember the Mother Goose “pease porridge” rhyme? While today we may think of porridge as cereal, in the sixteenth century, “porridge” was a derivation of “pottage” or “potage” meaning cooking pot. “Chowder” also comes from the word pot, via the French “cauldron.”

However you like your soup—hot, cold, or nine days old—combining savory ingredients in a pot and letting the flavors mingle is a time-tested menu favorite.

But what if you want your soup NOW? Well, you’re our kind of person, and we have just the recipe for you. Using already cooked ingredients makes this soup a quick lunch, ready in twenty minutes or less.

Corny Ham Chowder
1 cup milk
1 can cream style sweet corn
1½ cups cooked ham, cut into chunks
1½ cups cooked potatoes, drained and cut into chunks (canned works too)
1 tsp. onion powder
1 cup (4 oz) sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
Green onion or scallion slivers (optional)
Salt or chicken bouillon to taste

Mix milk, corn, ham, and potatoes in medium pot. Cook, be sure to stir occasionally until heated through.

Add cheese. Cover pot and let cheese melt completely.

Serve with a chunk of hearty bread.

Bonus Goodness:
Crave added richness? Substitute ½ cup of cream for ½ of the milk.

Are you a vegetable fan? Toss in the veggie of your choice, either frozen or fresh. We like frozen carrots for the added color—and the nutrition too of course.

No ham? Smoked sausage is a nice substitute.

Bland potatoes? Mix in sweet pickle juice. A teaspoon gives the soup zing.

Need more soup? Add more stuff. The converse works too.

Fighting off vampires? Switch out the regular salt for a teaspoon of garlic salt. If you have a bad infestation, add ½ teaspoon crushed garlic to the soup and serve with a wood spoon.

Looking for a no-calorie accompaniment? Read an e-book while you’re enjoying your soup! We recommend our young adult novel, The SkyHorse.


Fourteen year old Tovi thinks finding a flying horse is fabulous luck—until a mysterious stranger says finders aren’t always keepers.

When fourteen year old Tovi Taggert moves to Honeysuckle Hollow to take care of her grandmother, she has a hard time fitting in. For one thing, she’s been tagged with the hated nickname Too-Tall Tovi. For another, everyone at Honeysuckle Hollow High believes Tovi played the Choking Game with someone else’s boyfriend and made out with him besides.

As if she doesn’t have enough problems, after the latest stand-off in the school hallway, Tovi finds a gorgeous speckled egg nestled in a feather lined nest.

She takes the egg home. Mysterious visitors begin appearing almost immediately. Even more worrisome, whatever is inside the egg starts chipping its way out.

When the egg hatches, revealing a winged horse, Tovi’s troubles multiply.

As she struggles to return the horse to the magical land where he belongs, Tovi must make a courageous decision—and accept what that decision will cost her.

To read more of The SkyHorse, please click a vendor's name Amazon - Amazon UK - Smashwords




HL Carpenter writes sweet, clean fiction suitable for your entire family. Visit their website for gift reads and the latest Carpenter Country news.


Stay connected on Pinterest, Linkedin, Google+, and their Amazon Author Page.

Monday, October 05, 2015

Love Your Fall Garden

by Emma Lane

Don your flannel shirts and work gloves! Fall is here and the garden is calling. There are four types of blossoms stand out for me at this time of year. And here they are!

1. SUNFLOWERS: For years I wondered why my plants came up with big gaps in the rows. Fat chipmunks, thieving rodents! Now I plant them inside and when they have four leaves, out they go. Plant dwarf sunflowers in 10 inch patio pots.

2. ZINNIAS: It’s easy to “over love” these plants with too much fertilizer or water. They need both, but moderate. The large ones grow up to 30 inches high, but all varieties are nice. For bedding, Profusion, Tiger in Performance, Mixed Colors.

3. DAHLIAS: Who doesn’t love these exquisite blooms produced from fat tubers planted in the spring? We plant in the soil in a ‘dahlia house’ to ignore early frosts. To over winter, the tubers must be dug and stored in a dry place inside.

4. MUMS: Pinched until the 4th of July for a bushy plant with multiple blossoms. Perennial? Yes, with a caveat--well drained and mulched for cold zones. When you buy a mum in full bloom, plant immediately and water every day.

Perennial News: Should I deadhead in the Fall? I save all those duties for Spring when it’s too early to plant. Birds love the seeds. (Goldfinch love Rudbecia and Echinacea especially.) Tidy gardeners make your own decisions; the plant isn’t harmed either way. During Summer, plants benefit from snipping spent blooms to keep them going.

Powder Mildew: What’s that white stuff on the leaves? Plants get all sorts of diseases when they are stressed—just like people. For example: too hot, too dry, too wet, not enough fertilizer, too much fertilizer, too much sun, not enough. Home gardeners should check for organic treatments. I strongly recommend harsh chemicals be left to experts.

Fall Sales: Prices may be great, but check for disease. Don’t introduce something to your healthy garden you’ll regret. Trust your local shop owners who live in the community.

Perennial for next year: Garden Phlox ‘Nicki’ Hearty with deep purple blooms.

Bulbs: Plant any day now. You’ll avoid straight lines of ‘soldiers’ when you plant bulbs in clusters. Best buy? Grape Hyacinths are very reliable year after year and inexpensive. Indulge yourself! Most fun? Early blooming red and yellow tulips.

Now that your garden is set for fall, enjoy a good book and relax. May I suggest my latest Regency?

Can an arrogant duke overcome his prejudice against a beautiful but managing female in time to find true love and happiness?

Miss Amabel Hawkins acknowledges her unusual upbringing, but she thinks James Langley, the Duke of Westerton, might be a tad unbalanced when he protests her efforts to right his badly managed properties. The duke, who has been away on the king's business, demonstrates no respect for the beautiful but managing Miss Hawkins. Amabel has taken refuge at Westerton, fleeing from a forced marriage to a man who claims to be her relative in order to gain control of her young brother's estate.

The Duke arrives home to find his estate under the firm control of a beautiful but managing female. His suspicions are fueled by his recent task of spy-hunting and he wonders if Amabel Hawkins is just who she seems. While a dastardly spy lurks, a wicked man poses as her cousin threatening to take over the guardianship of her young brother. Amabel might be falling in love, but she knows for certain the duke would never approve of a meddlesome woman, and she decides to flee his estate. Will the duke finally realize the true value of the woman he loves or will his prejudice ruin his chances forever?

EXCERPT
Fatigue and the effects of the brandy on top of the ale now gave his gait a distinct wobble. He chuckled, amused at his condition.

As he reached for the portrait of great Uncle Barney, he lurched into the back of the red leather sofa in front of the cosy fire. “Deuce take it,” he exclaimed when a rounded arm rolled into view. He spotted the gentle curve of a hip and walked around to the front, where he spied a tumbled haze of dark curls hiding a face. It is indeed a female—a sleeping female.

Who was she? The gown was too rich for his household staff. Curious, he knelt beside the sofa.
“Only one way to find out,” he whispered and moved one dark curl. He sat back, satisfied when a handsome face swam into view. She sighed and rolled over, revealing a generous figure and a pair of rosy lips. She might be Sleeping Beauty—but not one of my relatives. He leaned over and kissed those tempting lips.

As he lingered there, she sighed and came partially awake. He could not resist. He deepened the kiss and sounds of satisfaction like yum and umm came from those delicious lips. Her hand stroked his face, then reached around his head to pull him closer. Delighted with this turn of events, the Duke of Westerton complied enthusiastically and extended an arm around a slender waist. How much of the ale and brandy had he imbibed? Dizziness overcame his senses as he slid down on the floor and knew no more.

Amazon buy link


Emma Lane is a gifted author who writes under several pen-names. She lives with her patient husband on several acres outside a typical American village in Western New York. Her day job is working with flowers at her son’s plant nursery. Look for information about writing and plants on her new website. Leave a comment or a gardening question and put a smile on Emma's face.

Stay connected to Emma on Facebook and Twitter.

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

As American as Apple Pie

is the hero of my erotic short story French Twist. Don Hobbs knows exactly what he likes in the bedroom as well as the kitchen. This Chicago born and bred man is a true lover of fried chicken. The lady in his life, Claudette D’Laquois, has no clue how to turn on a stove, let alone fry this scrumptious dish. But what can you expect from an Interpol agent? To make Claudette's life easier, I gave her the recipe so she can keep her man happy while he oversees an orchard in Nice, France.

Sloane’s Down-home Fried Chicken
1 tbsp. salt
Tap water
6 chicken legs, or thighs or 4 breasts, skinless and boneless
1 cup flour
1tsp. thyme
½ tsp. marjoram
Freshly ground pepper to taste
1 large egg
1½ tbsp. milk
½ cup solid shortening or lard, plus more as needed

Dissolve salt in a small amount of water. Add chicken pieces then cover with more water. Set this in the refrigerator for 4-6 hours.

Remove chicken from fridge 2 hours before you plan to cook. Drain and pat dry.

Combine flour and seasonings in a paper or plastic bag. Shake gently to combine ingredients. Mix egg and milk in a bowl. Set a clean plate or platter on the counter to hold the breaded chicken.

Place one chicken piece at a time in the bag, shake gently to thoroughly coat, then dip in egg mixture, then return the piece to the bag and gently shake again. Set chicken on the plate. Repeat the process until all pieces are coated. Set the uncovered plate in the fridge for at least 30 minutes.

Heat the shortening in a large frying pan over medium-high heat. Test to be sure shortening is hot enough by adding a small piece of bread. It should sizzle and toast quickly.

Carefully add the chicken pieces. Maintain the temperature, but adjust it so chicken doesn’t burn and grease doesn’t splatter everywhere.

Turning frequently, brown the chicken on all sides. Cover and cook 20-25 minutes or until juices run clear when pierced with a sharp knife.

Lay pieces on a plate lined with paper towels to absorb any oil. Transfer them to a clean platter and serve.

Here's a brief intro to Book Three of the Naughty Ladies of Nice series with Don and Claudette.

Spies and lies bring a deadly twist to the City of Lights.

Interpol agent Claudette D’Laquois is trapped in the hellhole of life and unable to trust anyone. Desperate to regain control, she flees to the safety of her uncle’s rundown chateau on the French Riviera. But Claudette soon learns the countryside has its own dangers when she finds herself alone with a sexy foreigner.

Uptight accountant Donald Hobbs ditches numbers for dirt to oversee his friend’s orchard for three weeks. His well deserved vacation is perfect until a seductive mademoiselle drags him into a dangerous world of intrigue and erotic fantasy.

Illegal drugs and Russian mobsters take a back seat to a lethal night of sinful pleasure for Claudette and Don.

EXCERPT

Nothing like an afternoon of hot sex to keep this guy happy.

Don followed Claudette down the hallway. He scanned her shoulders and down to her narrow waist and clenched his fists until the knuckles almost popped. His gaze dropped to her shapely hips that flared over her long legs. Legs that went on forever. He worked his way back up to her firm ass, mesmerized by the little swing it did as she nonchalantly strolled ahead of him. The rose dangled over her shoulder, luring him like a horse to the carrot, and he was eager to chase after it.

Walking right then wasn’t the easiest thing, but he managed. Her tapered legs in those sexy heels strapped around her slender ankles were the added bonus to keep him moving.

She stopped at her open bedroom door and glanced over her shoulder. Her long auburn hair shimmered with the movement.

Jesus, she was beautiful.

Mon cher, do not be shy.” Her voice dropped a couple of octaves. “I am not.”

Obviously, and he loved it.

He followed her to the bed while fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. She bent and laid the rose on the nightstand, exposing her wet pussy. His cock jackknifed. He swallowed hard and prayed he didn’t come before he finally got to touch her.

“You look as if you need help.” Her soft voice came out low, like a woman who’d been making love for hours.

She turned and reached for his belt. Her large breasts jiggled with the movement and erased his control.

He stretched out a hand for her, but she eluded him and dropped to her knees before he could touch her rosy nipples. An herbal aroma drifted up to him as her hair flowed across her breasts. He scooped it out of the way. The need to watch her every movement overwhelmed him.

His zipper rasped open. Don forced himself to breathe. His swollen cock leapt out of his shorts, grazing her moist mouth.

“I like a man who is eager.”

Her warm breath tingled against his swollen head.

He closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer she followed through on what he hoped she had in mind.

She swiped her pink tongue across her lips, moistening their soft surface. His body tensed. A soft puff of air caressed his crown, then she bathed the length of his cock from root to tip. She nibbled at the sensitive underside of the cap long enough to buckle his knees.

He wove his fingers through her silky hair and gritted his teeth as she clamped one hand onto his ass and gently dragged the fingernails of her other against his tight balls. The sweet pleasure was almost unbearable.

Jesus, he needed to regain some form of control over his body before he embarrassed himself. He counted twelve breaths, held them, then started again. When that failed, he mentally recited accounting tables. Christ, he’d do anything to save face and not come.

She swirled her tongue across the tip of his dick, her lips nipping at the engorged ridge. It was too much for any man to tolerate. The first rush of heat charged up his cock. He cried out, pumping into her hot wet mouth.

“Stop, baby. I can’t keep this up.” After a few deep, ragged breaths, he ground out, “This isn’t fair to you.”

Claudette sucked him in deeper. Her face buried in his pubic hairs. A new earthquake of need erupted in him when a hum from low in her throat vibrated against his dripping cock.

“Fucksakes, baby.” He took her shoulders and regretfully pulled her off with a pop. “I need to come, but I want to satisfy you. We have to move to the bed.” He hooked a shaky thumb over his shoulder.

She glanced up, her cheeks flushed.

Oui, mon cher, you have all the good ideas today.”

Don doubted that, but he could competently return the teasing and drive her into a serious frenzy.

He held out his hand, wrapped it around hers, and pulled her into his arms. She was warm and yielding and sexy as hell. He cupped her chin and raised it toward his mouth...

BUY LINKS

Amazon
ARe
Barnes & Noble
Smashwords

For those of you who don't know me, I'm an Award-Winning author who believes humor and sex are healthy aspects of our everyday lives. I carry that philosophy into my books. I write sexually explicit romances that take you right into the bedroom. Being a true romantic, all my stories have a happy ever after.

My books are set in Europe where the men are all male and the North American women they encounter are both feminine and strong. They also bring more than lust to their men’s lives.

I was born and raised on the Southside of Chicago. Studly, my mate for life, and I now live in a small home in Indiana and enjoy the change from city life. I'm an avid cook and post new recipes on this blog every Wednesday. The recipes are user friendly, and I strive for easy.

Currently I have six erotic romance books and one box set either released or coming soon from Toque & Dagger Publishing. Excerpts from these books can be found on my website, blog, and all popular vendors.

Subscribe to my short newsletter. Connect with with me on Facebook, Twitter, and Google+.

Happy reading!
Sloane

Monday, September 28, 2015

Top Ten Reasons to Vacation at Wiccan Haus

by Sara Daniel


1. It’s a healing spa for every ailment. Take a bullet to the knee? We’ll fix you up. Lose your memory? We’ll help you recover it. Got issues with your family? We’ll help you deal with your emotional difficulties. People think you’re going crazy? We don’t, and we’ll help you unravel the truth.

2. No electronics. Time to unplug! Your cellphone won’t work. You won’t get barraged with social media updates from people venting about their awful lives or bragging about their nauseatingly perfect lives. Even better, your boss can’t contact you about that office “emergency” no one else wants to tackle.

3. You get a whole week to relax. One ferry boat a week takes guests to and from the island. You won’t be leaving early or pretending a weekend getaway is all the vacation you need. You’ll have a whole week to truly relax.

4. No crowds! No lines! That ferry boat only takes 12 guests per week, with another 12 arriving through a magical portal from the paranormal world. That’s it, just 24 guests getting some very personalized attention.

5. The Wiccan Haus is magical. Yeah, the brochure might say the island is off the coast of Maine, but you’re not going to find it on your own. I’m guessing it’s part of a paranormal world, but they’re not confirming or denying my suspicions.

6. The owners get involved in helping you make most of your stay. Talk about personalized attention. At least one of the four siblings who run the resort will help you make the most of your stay—maybe all four of them. Now that’s service!

7. They have yoga, meditation and other classes that you always meant to try but never quite got around to. Admit it: You know that practicing deep breathing would be good for your blood pressure and probably your scattered brain too, but you never have time to actually do it, just like you never had time to try the King Pigeon or Camel yoga poses that the too-perky barista at the coffee shop swears by. Now you can.

8. They have exotic plants that scientifically shouldn’t exist. The orchard has apple tree with blossoms, unripe fruit, and ripe, ready-to-eat fruit all on the same tree. All at once. All the time. And you can help yourself to an apple straight from the tree. Simply paradise.

9. You could meet someone with paranormal abilities. Those guests who came through the magical portal might be shifters, vampires, psychics, truth-finders, lamias, or something else you’ve never heard of. They’re coming to the Wiccan Haus to heal and relax just like you, and you’ll see them when you all gather together in the dining room for dinner.

10. Another guest might end up being the love of your life. Maybe the person is a paranormal, or maybe he/she a human, but every story from the Wiccan Haus ends with true love and a happily-ever-after. It truly is magical!

Here is a little Wicaan Haus teaser from my latest release.

Psychic Lies

What if you could read minds during sex? What if the government wanted to exploit you for your ability?

Fiona Vetter has spent her life hiding her sexual mind-reading power, pretending to have normal, safe powers like the rest of her family. When her charade results in the death of an innocent woman, her life of lies unravels. With nowhere else to turn, she retreats to the Wiccan Haus.

To expose her as an enemy of his government, Armando Verdad follows Fiona to the Wiccan Haus. Her beauty dazzles him, her personality seduces him, and her web of lies intrigues him. But with his career and the safety of his countrymen on the line, only the truth matters.

The harder Fiona tries to keep Armando away, the more she falls for him. When enemies come searching for her, she is forced to trust him to protect her life and her psychic lies, but nothing can protect her heart.

EXCERPT
Fiona dropped her fork. How could her soul have picked him for her mate? The Fates played cruel jokes, and, once again, they did so at her expense. “The vetter was trying her best.”

“Her best to do what?” He gripped her arm a bit tighter.

“To be a vetter.” By the Goddess, she’d tried so hard. Her failure had cost an innocent woman her life.

He rubbed his hand along her arm, his face breaking into a smile again. “You know, I believe you’re right.”

A fat lot of good that did for Lizbet. She dropped her gaze to his hand. “Why are you always touching me?” She didn’t know him well enough to warrant the constant contact, but pleasure sizzled under her skin at his touch. She didn’t deserve to enjoy anything.

He smiled wider. “I can’t stop myself. You feel the connection, don’t you?”

She couldn’t have a connection to a man who scorned people who didn’t use their powers for the greater good, not when she’d built the foundation of her life on denying her true powers. “I’m actually not a tactile person.”

After speaking such a big lie, she couldn’t continue to look him in the eye, not with all her powers concentrated in the most intimate tactile experience possible.

His grin split wider. “I’d love the chance to prove you wrong.”

And when he did, she’d know his thoughts. She’d know how much he despised the woman who claimed to be a vetter and allowed the commander’s beloved daughter to lifebond with a man who would murder her. Fiona had come to the Wiccan Haus to get away from the public’s hatred and scorn, not see it behind Armando’s beautiful smile and feel it no matter how warm and gentle his hands.

She shoved away from the table and ran for the exit.

“I didn’t mean to offend you. I meant it as a compliment,” he called after her.

The dining room quieted around her. Everyone stared. Once again, she drew the bad kind of attention. But she couldn’t stop.

Despite her desire to be a simple vetter, without real vetting powers that life could only be a lie. The truth, however, was far worse than a life of lies.

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Sara Daniel writes what she loves to read—irresistible romance, from sweet to erotic and everything in between. She battles a serious NASCAR addiction, was once a landlord of two uninvited squirrels, and loses her car keys several times a day.

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