Friday, December 30, 2011

2012: My Resolutions for Fun & $$$!

Need an Italian lover?
For 2012, I am into FUN and $$$.
To ensure the laughs and my fat wallet, I promise myself to:
1. GO AFTER PIRATES more often.  WEEKLY.
Hey, all these people are ripping me off to the tune of THOUSANDS of $$$. What if I came to their house and did that??? Besides, Congress--those folks who haven't worked all year but collected their $150,000 salaries--are debating Our Anti-Piracy Bill like it was an attack on business. SAY WHA? Yep. Google and their buddies are fighting this bill, saying it would "criminalize" their business. NEWS FLASH: Pirates have already criminalized it. Google needs to step back, THINK and get a new way to make a buck, not off my back!
2. ADVERTISE more.
Yeah. It costs. But people, time or money? I am only one people, have only a bit of time and some money (esp. if I kill these pirates, I'll have more)!
3. Love FACEBOOK and TWITTER more.  This stuff really works to get the old name out there.
Color me happy.
4. Stop cruising the net. 'nuf said.
5. Invite all of you to come to my blog to post! Often! Any time!
6. Go to the gym 3x a week.
I need it.
My office chair is wunderbar, but it does not ensure my a$$ is any skinnier.
7. My last Res. This I am offering a saying to you for your consideration as one of your resolutions. This one, I used as a kid when things were tough. And they often were, especially at holiday time.
What is it?
One I wish some of the HOUSEWIVES of X-city, the Kardiasians (sp.?) and Snooki, and all her generation would use, cuz they give me HIVES with their narcissism!
Don't criticize and Don't complain.
Use facts only.
And the pix at the top?
Shameless Self-promo.
My very first EC release about a lovely widow and a smokin' hot Italian stud.
My Sweet.
Mia Dolce! Go here for author page for all my EC books: www.jasminejade.com/m-560-cerise-deland.aspx

Friday, December 16, 2011

UNWRAPPING SCROOGE! What a man! Anne Holly's newest!


Bestselling author Kale McKinnon is a modern Scrooge – eccentric, misanthropic and reclusive, made bitter by the coldness of his wealthy family. But when optimistic Canadian graduate student Molly Gillis visits Oxford and invades his space, he realizes Christmas is about to change for him forever. But can he make her stay, and force himself to un-Scrooge enough to be the right man for her?
For more info, see my holiday website: http://annehollyholiday.webs.com/christmastales.htm

Anne Holly is a Canadian writer of romance and erotic-romance, as well as a mother and teacher. She is the author of the novel Strings Attached, which was described by The Romance Reviews as “a classic contemporary romance.” She has been published by Wild Horse Press, Decadent Publishing and Rebel Ink Press, and in 2012 by Pink Petal Books. Anne’s work is characterized by its unusual heroes, sweet/spicy balance, witty dialogue, responsible citizenship, and its positive, optimistic nature. She has found a particular niche in holiday romance. You may visit Anne at her blog or website, or find her on GoodReadsFacebook and Twitter  (@anneholly2010). Sign up for her newsletter here. Email her at anneholly2010@gmail.com.
And today, Anne gives us a family recipe for the holidays:
A Family Favourite: Shortbread
Anne Holly

Part of the December holidays for me growing up in rural Nova Scotia was my mother’s delicious, coma-inducing shortbread biscuits (cookies, in other parlance).

Nova Scotia is a wonderful mixture of German, Loyalist, French, Native, Scots-Irish, English, etc, etc, cultures, which has evolved in a very distinct local cuisine, in which carrot pie sits beside lobster, grape nut ice cream and seaweed stew. In my family, we had significant British/Irish influences on the things we ate, especially at the holidays.

Shortbread is a pretty English thing, and always made an appearance at Christmas – we were not the richest folks, and I think the rich cookies cost too much in butter to make all year around.

In my books, foods always make an appearance, and in my Decadent Publishing novella, Unwrapping Scrooge, the heroine, Molly, a good Nova Scotian girl, eats shortbread during her Christmas in England, bringing back memories of home.

So, try this one out. Especially wonderful with a glass of cider or eggnog, or a nice cup of hot cocoa!

Easy Shortbread

1 cup soft butter (unsalted if you’re health conscious, though my mum used salted)
1/2 cup confectioners' sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

Preheat oven to 190*C (375*F), while you furiously stir up that butter - or whip it with an egg beater. Stir in the sugar, cornstarch, and flour as you go, keeping it smooth and even. It should become like a fluffy, lumpless, paste. Spoon dollops of the dough on an ungreased cookie sheet, about two inches apart. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes. The cookies should stay white, with maybe some toasted colour at the edges, but they need to be somewhat hard. Cool on racks before storing. This recipe should make about twenty cookies, but this will depend on your dollop size.

Now, these are clearly not the best of diet foods, but you can adjust the nutrition and sinfulness by choosing your butter carefully. However, barring any major health issues, I say live a little and enjoy a full-fat, full-flavour cookie. It’s only once a year, and if you offer a dish of these up at a gathering it’s unlikely you’ll be able to steal more than one!

Thanks to my mum for the recipe.

Enjoy, and happy holidays!
- AH


Wednesday, December 14, 2011

YUM YUM YUM. What else do you need? TODAY! Cold Nights, Hot Bodies!

All my life I’ve been the quiet bookworm, the office mouse. It hasn’t bothered me. Immersing myself in erotic novels has kept me wriggling on the edge of my seat at work and firmly entrenched in my own fantasy world at night.

Though one thing is bothering me—my damn virginity. If only I could find a sexy bedroom expert to introduce me to the delights of having a lover. Someone handsome and charming, who can rival the hunky alpha males in my books. I have a very vivid, very well-fed imagination—he’ll have to keep up.
Then, one bitterly cold night, thanks to a devious, conniving so-called-friend, the perfect opportunity to rid myself of this pesky virginal problem comes along. Before I know it, the heroes in my novels have come alive in the person of Shane Galloway, who’s pleasuring me with every trick in the book and wheedling into my heart in the hottest possible of ways.
RUN, DO NOT WALK TO BUY THIS ONE: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9705-cold-nights-hot-bodies.aspx   
So Like you need a nibble?????? GEEZ. WHY?????  sheesh.
Here it is anyway!

Copyright © LILY HARLEM, 2011
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
“I want you, Shane, I want you to take my virginity.”
“Ashley, are you sure?”
“More than sure.” Over his pants, I rubbed my palm up the length of his erection, marveling at its solidity and size. “Please don’t leave, not now, because that would be the worst thing to have ever happened in my life. That would be something I could never undo.” And it was certainly something that didn’t happen in my books.
Suddenly his lips hit down on mine, strong and assertive. “If it’s really what you want then I’m not going anywhere.” He breathed into my mouth. “Except to bed…with you, right now.”
“Yes, yes, it’s what I want.” My stomach flipped with excitement. I’d persuaded him to stay. I’d grabbed my opportunityquite literally.
Letting go of his erection, I looped my hands around his neck, pressing the entire length of my body into his until his cock was squeezed tight between us. My heart thumped and my skin was alive with new, interesting, wild sensations.
“I told you, it’s been a while for me,” he said, pulling back to look at my face. “Your vampish little virgin thing may have me reaching the finish line early if you’re not careful.”
“I’m sure we can make more than one finish line.”
He chuckled and I sensed the last shred of tension and uncertainty leave him. “Yeah, you’re right.” He smoothed his hands to the back of my bra. “We have all night and we’re well and truly snowed in so what’s the rush?” He undid the clasp with a finely tuned movement and the lacy cups fell from my breasts.
“No rush,” I murmured even though impatience was bubbling like a cauldron deep within me.
His gaze drifted downward. “You have great tits,” he said. “Pert and pretty.” He stroked his thumbs over my nipples. They twisted into tight buds, as if straining for more of his attention. “Has anyone even done this to you before?” he asked.
“No,” I said on a shaky breath, watching his every move the way a hawk watches a mouse. “Never.”
“So I’m guessing no one has done this either.” He bent and kissed over the rise of my right breast, his soft lips inquisitive as he traced the mound.
“No,” I managed.
Shifting his shoulders, he pulled my erect nipple deep into his hot mouth.
I buried my hands in his thick mop of hair. “God, no,” I gasped. “Not that either.”
He switched to the other breast and used his hands to feed my hypersensitive flesh gently into his mouth. I closed my eyes and tipped my head to the ceiling, it felt divine, warm and wet, tingly and strong. His tongue was injecting white-hot lust into my veins.
“Ah, you’re sweet all over,” he said, straightening and pulling me close again. My damp breasts pressed against his scratchy chest. “I’m going to make this right for you, Ashley. I’m honored you’ve chosen me. You won’t regret it.”
“I know.” I touched my fingertips to his stubbled jawline. “I know, Shane. I trust you.”
With one quick movement he scooped me into his arms. I clasped my hands around his neck as his strength surrounded me. He began to walk toward the bedroom.
“We’re not doing it on the sofa?” I asked.
“No, we’ll do the sofa later, your first time should definitely be in bed,” he said, stepping through the doorway. His eyes widened. “And wow, what a bed.”
I glanced at the four-poster. Huge and luxurious, it did look the perfect place to lose my virginity.
Shane carried me over and set me down so I was sitting on the edge with my feet on the floor. I watched in silence as he moved the darkly wrapped chocolate from the pillow and placed it on the bedside table.
Straightening, he looked down at me, his gaze so hot it was like a lick of flame across my bare flesh. He frowned and took a leather wallet from his back pocket, flipping it open and pulling out a green-foil-wrapped condom. “I’ve only got one,” he said, “but when we need more there’s a machine in the gents’ downstairs.”
I nodded, pleased he was thinking about contraception and safety. I couldn’t, anticipation of what was going to happen in the next few minutes had taken over my brain. I was buzzing all over. It was as if I was in my own novel, I was the heroine and he the hero. And my goodness, what a perfectly exquisite hero I’d been blessed with.
Shane toed off his shoes and peeled off his socks. Reached for the button on his pants and yanked the zip free. He pushed them down, stepping out and kicking the knot of black material to one side.
I sat motionless, just staring at the big bulge tenting his navy cotton boxers.
“You okay?” he asked, stilling in front of me.
Clearing my throat, I looked up his long, lean body shrouded in shadows from the one low lamp in the room. His abdominal muscles were faintly defined, his pectoral muscles square and his nipples small, dark discs. “Yes, I’m fine.”
He stepped closer. His groin came level to my face and the heady scent of his skin radiated toward me.
Desperate to touch him, I traced the line of fine silky hair that led from his navel to the waistband of his boxers.
He tensed.
I glanced up at his face. “Can I?” I asked.
The corner of one side of his mouth twitched. “Be my guest.”
AND JUST CUZ you and I both need this, here he is LARGER, baby, LARGER!

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Costume designer, my heroine of SANTA, CUTIE (#2 on bestseller list at ARe!)

The most fun I have ever had researching a book was for SANTA, CUTIE's heroine, Susanna Corrigan.  Yes. I had to travel. Ouuie. I had to party, dine, gamble, stay in fab.u.lous suite and ask questions of people.
What does Susanna do?
She is a costume designer for a Shakespearean Festival. For this, she must be artful in rendering vibrant clothing which can be discarded quickly for changes, yet be accurate to time, place AND conflict and character for The Bard's plays.
I came across her in...of all places...Las Vegas where I knew she initially served as the warder for mimes in a famous resort hotel in Sin City. Perhaps you recognize these places?
 

Here you see a few of those mimes I think she dressed:



Tuesday, December 6, 2011

TODAY, SANTA, CUTIE debuts! Need a nibble of my newest cherry?

Of course you do!

Susanna Corrigan believes in Santa Claus. Always did. So a Christmas-time flight to Alaska for a one night stand with a man chosen for her is a perfect gift. Fun and great sex with Mr. Right Now fits her bill for no strings, no commitments.
Then hunky Gil Santana laughs with her, buys her dinner and take her dancing–and Susanna asks herself if she can resist the temptation to make Gil more than a temporary affair.
Your nibble: (Copyright 2011, Cerise DeLand. All rights reserved.)

Gil Santana promised himself one more lap in the pool before he treated himself to lunch and for a chaser, a snifter of Armagnac. He extended his arm in the pool, ready to push off once more, but his eyes snagged on movement at the far doors. His gaze glued to the perfect vision who walked through them and his mouth fell open.
Through the ladies’ spa entrance came a female who took his breath away. The way she walked. Like a queen. The way she pushed back her shoulder-length hair into a ponytail and rubbed her hands together in glee like a kid eager to jump in the creek on a hot summer day. She was, undoubtedly, the most beautiful woman he’d seen here at the resort or in fact, anywhere.
Even in Hollywood.
Hey, Santana, that is the plan, man. You’re here to find a woman who isn’t like the aggressive types in Los Angeles. So what if this one strikes you as….
Luscious.
He blinked. She strolled to a lounge chair and inched out of her flip-flops.
Five-five or so. Red hair. Lush, wavy hair the color of merlot. Never-from-a-bottle, intoxicating red hair. Oval face. Dark eyes. Damn! What color?
She looked around. Didn’t spot him, thank goodness. Then she smiled to herself. Padded over to the shallow end, stuck her toes in the water, and grinned.
He swallowed hard and didn’t make a move. He wanted to enjoy her. She shook back her hair and pulled at the bottom of her suit. Snapped it beneath the crease of her gorgeous, firm ass and took the steps down slowly into the water. She was quite incredibly lovely.
Quite incredibly built.
Madre Mia. With breasts. Half moons. Nipples pebbled beneath the white spandex of her conservative, one-piece suit. Hips like God should give all women. And thighs. Trim. Knees. Cute. Long, long, long legs.
Down boy. His cock did not obey. And Gil had to agree with the big guy. This woman was worth the salute.
Stop it, Santana. You act like a drooling teenager.
Yeah, but, wow, did he hope she was his for this 1Night Stand thing.
How could she be?
Yeah, true.
She looks exactly like the type you don’t want. She looks like a wannabe movie star who’ll do anything to get a part. Including wearing a sign, Casting Couches R Us.
Visit my website for more goodies: http://www.cerisedeland.com

Monday, December 5, 2011

SANTA, CUTIE, I want a MAN in my stocking!

For a gal like Susanna Corrigan who always believed in Santa Claus, refusing to keep his gift of a perfect man would be rude? And foolish, right?

Sunday, December 4, 2011

SANTA, HONEY, I want a MAN down my chimney for Christmas!

Remember that sultry Eartha Kitt song? SANTA, BABY, is just what Susanna Corrigan craves for the Holidays! This is one grrrreat fun-filled holiday song and here are a few stanzas:

Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree, for me
Been an awful good girl
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight

Santa baby, a '54 convertible too, light blue
I'll wait up for you dear Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight

Think of all the fun I've missed
Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed
Next year I could be just as good
If you'd check off my Christmas list
Boo doo bee doo!"


For a gal like Susanna Corrigan who always believed in Santa Claus, refusing to keep his gift of a perfect man would be rude? And foolish, right?

Saturday, December 3, 2011

1Night Stand Holiday Anthology has all the sub-genres to Make Your Day!

Lovely, eh? I read all these Sunday and oh, my, what a great time! (Helped me recover from all that turkey prep!)

  • Straight contemporaries
  • Werewolf
  • Sci fi space traveler and shapeshifter.

Something for every reader and oh, my, Big Somethings for romance readers. All erotic. All divine stories.
Run, do not walk!
This is the print verison cover.
Go now to Decadent Publishing!
www.decadentpublishing.com

Friday, December 2, 2011

What's Santa got in your stocking?

Hope it is this DYNAMITE anthology, Madame Eve's Holiday Anthology from Decadent Publishing!
Mine is the lead story in this collection that include my buddy, DESIREE HOLT, STACEY KENNEDY, CLARISSA YIP, REBECCA ROYCE, AND LIIA ANNE WHIT!
In mine, SANTA, CUTIE, Susanna Corrigan flies to Alaska for Christmas wanting only a 1Night Stand with a man chosen for her.
What she gets in her stocking...(and not just in her stocking!) is Gil Santana.
Swoon.
A man really really meant for her. In more ways than one!

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Welcome Jane Rochester & her SOUL MATE, her new 1 Night Stand story!

First off, thank you for letting me crash your blog today, Cerise! I’m thrilled you let me take over your space for awhile.
For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Jane Rochester. I’m a new erotic romance author, and I’ve just had my first story published with Decadent Publishing’s 1 Night Stand Series. I’m pretty excited to be able to share my stories with others, and I hope to be able to announce some more exciting news later.
But I figured while I was here, I’d talk briefly about paranormal romance in general. Why we like it. What keeps us reading about vampires, even when we think the “trend” has about fizzled out. I think vampires are getting a bad rep, and they don’t necessarily deserve it. I think everyone started to get tired of the vampires once they began to sparkle. Even so, who doesn’t wish for tall, dark, and handsome to walk through the door. And if he’s got fangs and a little bit of mystery and danger attached… woo! I’ll take him if you won’t!
There are tons of paranormal creatures out there that are slowly making their way into our stories and bookshelves. And I love them for it. Faeires? YES. Lost gods? OH YEAH! But at the end of the day, I still sometimes want to turn to a good vampire novel. I could wax poetic about the reasons we love them so much. The very sensual nature of a creature that has to suck your neck to feed. But I think every reader has their own opinion. Mine? I think they’re a taste of the forbidden, and everyone wants a little piece of that.
What about yours? Tell us a few. Why do you love vampires? Hate them? Wish for some other specific type of creature?
And since I’m here, and I love vampires, I will put the blurb for my own submission to the wealth of vampire literature:
Soul Mate
After her friend buys her a date from Madame Evangeline’s 1Night Stand service, Nora isn’t sure she can go through with it. Especially when she sees her date walk in. He’s way out of her league in more ways than just looks.
Angus MacInnes knows his time as Enforcer of his vampire clan is slowly driving him mad. When his brother sent him on a date, he assumed it would be a bust from the beginning. He didn’t expect to find the one woman he’s been hoping would appear for the last few centuries.
But can a vampire Enforcer smooth his rough edges enough to convince Nora that they’re Soul Mates?
Buy Link: http://www.decadentpublishing.com/product_info.php?products_id=375&osCsid=hivk6ohi7luvairc2n60d5a6q3

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Lingerie! Oo, la la!

YES, you know I am crazy for this stuff!
Whetting your appetite for more, more, more, I am over at Delilah Devlin's blog today, showing you yum yum goodies. http://www.delilahdevlin.com/blog/
Why?
Well, my newest heroine in a new series I write, KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER, is about to open a lingerie shop in a tiny town in Texas.
What's unusal about this town?
The men are good and plenty~and the women wear little more than a smile.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Welcome the heroine of GREY's LADY by Natasha Blackthorne!

 Grey’s Lady is the story of a wealthy New York merchant price, Grey Sexton, who falls for a poor but beautiful seductress, Beth McConnell. Yet, for all their social and economical differences, at their most basic level, Beth and Grey are very similar. This story explores how these similarities threaten to tear them apart before love can overcome the fear of being vulnerable.
Both Beth and Grey suffered isolation and emotional neglect in childhood. Grey grew up as a privileged only son, heir to Sexton Shipping, one of the fledging nation’s largest mercantile fleets. Grey’s father was a stern businessman who did not understand his daydreaming son and held him at a distance. A child in this position might take solace in a closer relationship with his mother. However, Grey’s mother was chronically ill and unable to bear his childish energy. She kept to her chambers and died while he was still quite young.
I will let Beth tell her story in her own words.



Why should men always have the power of choice when it comes to sexual and romantic relationships? Is it right that we women have no choice but to sit and wait for a man decide to honor us with his declarations–usually uttered in the form of a demand? And all we as women may do is say “yes” or “no” and hope we have made a wise choice. The man still has the power to break his promises and it will be our good name and heart that bears the damage.

My mother fell into an adulterous affaire with an unknown man and as a result I was created. Her husband put her out of their house. I would have been borne in the almshouse if not for the kindness of her employer. After my mother’s death, I would have gone to the foundling home without my kindly benefactress. My unknown father also had his power of choice, the choice to abandon me. How fair is it that men have all the power of choice?

Oh, you ask what about the gentlemen? Ha! The gentlemen. They are the very worst.

A gentleman once declared passionate love for me. He said this so ardently, his beautiful brown eyes shone with sincerity. I was young. I was naïve. I believed him. I trusted him and gave my heart wholly into his keeping. And as went my heart, eventually so went my virtue.

Do you what happened next? Surely, I don’t have to tell you. You know how these maudlin stories go. He married someone else. A lady. Someone of his own class. His took his power of choice. He became a respectable family man and I was left being a soiled dove. I had a good cry over it. I may have drank a little too much at his wedding celebration. What a pitiful little fool I was. But I did not wallow in my self-pity for long. So men have needs and desires? Well, I also have needs. I also have desires. Why should men have all the power of choice? Why should they have all the enjoyment in life?

I take my own power of choice now. I chose whom, when and for how long and I select only the most handsome, wealthy, and powerful of gentlemen.

Yes, I know you are asking do I not fear discovery? This is a worry and I take it seriously. Truly I do. I live with my half-brother and his family now. He is very protective and very touchy about matters of honor. Our mother was not faithful to his father. Now he takes such matters so seriously. Too seriously. If he had his way, I would stay home all the time, working in the backroom of his cobbler shop with one eye on the children. But honestly, though I love my nieces and my half-siblings, life there is dreary. It’s all work, work and more work. Everything is shabby, everything seems to stay gritty and grimy no matter how hard I work to keep things clean. There are always more shoes to repair. I swear my eyes shall go crossed trying to sew by candlelight night after night. I never get enough sleep or time to myself. If I couldn’t go out and seek my adventures, I should go mad. I have my mother’s wild blood in me and my desires can run so high I fear they shall consume me.

I could marry a nice man and he would carry me away from all of this. I would have my own cozy home and hearth. My benefactress has introduced me to a nice young minister and to a nice young but struggling legal clerk and a nice young medical student who trembled all over and went pale when I said good morning to him. I have no interest in nice young men. It’s the wealthy, powerful, arrogant gentlemen who fascinate me. I know they will never desire me for a wife but they shall burn for me. They shall remember me.

How do I protect myself from discovery? I limit my liaisons to one single meeting. I never meet with my gentlemen again, no matter how desperately they implore me. And they do implore me. Though I am poor, the child of adultery by an unknown man and powerless in my society, I have something gentlemen desire. I have beauty, and thanks to my mother’s wild blood, I understand their hot lusts better than the women of their class. I do gain a measure of satisfaction out of leaving them burning for more. Burning for me. No gentleman shall ever forget the one afternoon he spent with me.

Today is a special day for me. Mr. Asahel de Grijs, otherwise known as Grey to his friends, is coming to my favorite bookseller to give a lecture on privateering. He is a New York man, the owner of Sexton Shipping which has a fleet of over forty sea going vessels. He is rumored to be the wealthiest gentleman in America. I know this is not true. I know exactly who is the wealthiest man in America. But Mr. Sexton is among the top three wealthiest men in our nation. He is also politically connected and quite powerful. He would be the brightest feather in my cap. I think I shall wear my shabbiest dress because it is always more thrilling when these gentlemen cannot resist the tattered, poor little bastard girl. They are slaves to their own greed for beauty.

I don’t really deride gentlemen for their focus on beauty. I appreciate a handsome face and well-made masculine form. Well, if Mr. Sexton’s physicality matches his other attributes, then I shall be entertaining a gentleman today. In private. In his carriage. But only for today. Afterwards, he shall burn for me. He will never forget me.
An excerpt: (Copyright, All rights reserved, 2011)
“Are you hungry?” he asked, his tone front-parlour-polite.
“No.” She couldn’t possibly eat. She’d been pent up with desire like a caged cat for two weeks. Now, so close to being beneath him again, she could barely keep herself from swooning from the excitement.
“You know, for a moment there, I thought you were about to bolt.”
“No, never.”
“That’s a relief.” He laughed without smiling and pressed something into her hand—a key. He whispered his room number. “Go up. I’ll follow shortly.”
“I haven’t much time.”
“Very shortly.” The edgy promise in his voice sent a bolt of desire twisting through her belly. Her knees melted to jelly and she wobbled.
“Careful.” His strong hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her, his face showing none of the emotion pounding through her own body. How could he remain so unaffected?
Impulse seized her and she caught hold of his lapels. “Kiss me.”
He leaned closer. Heavens, anyone could come along and catch them. Oh the risk… But her breath quickened and her nipples stiffened, straining against her stays. She closed her eyes, tilted her head up. Waited.
And waited.
“How many men since me?” He laid his large hand at the base of her throat and a thrill went chasing through her. “Look me in the eye.”
Her lids fluttered open and his gaze pierced into her with such intensity she gasped. “It has only been two weeks.”
“Answer me, Beth.”
Another thrill trembled through her. Fear or anticipation? She couldn’t say. “None.”
Still holding her throat, he studied her for several long moments. She set her jaw, refusing to waver under his scrutiny.
He bent and his mouth pressed hers, hard and hasty. Passion spiralled, took her soaring to the stars. Lassitude weakened her and wetness seeped between her legs. He lifted his head. She tightened her hands on his lapels, trying to pull him back. He resisted, his eyes trained on her like a stag with a doe.
Kiss me. Just kiss me, you arrogant jackanapes.
“Now, go.” He released her, set her veil back in place and left her there.
She gaped at his departing back, watching how he moved, so tall and proud. Over-proud. Did he have any idea what a rarefied class he found himself in? She didn’t go around asking just any man to kiss her. She had very high standards and she shared herself with only a select few. She was bestowing quite an honour on him and yet he reacted as if she were the one who ought to be grateful. And to add insult to injury, he hadn’t even kissed her. Not truly.
THANKS, NATASHA!  
Now, dear reader, do run to buy your copy of GREY's LADYhttp://www.amazon.com/Greys-Lady-Carte-Blanche-ebook/dp/B00630ZCP4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1320423899&sr=8-1

Monday, November 7, 2011

Boot Scootin' Boogie Blog tour by Natalie Acres! A Hot Ride!


Thank you for hosting a blog stop during The First Annual Natalie Acres Boot Scootin’ Boogie Blog Tour! 
I’m excited to share information about the Cowboy Boots series in celebration of my new release, Cowboy Boots and Unsettled Debts. The third book in this romantic suspense saga, Cowboy Boots and Unsettled Debts is by far the ‘hottest’ of the series. 
A Siren-Bookstrand LoveXtreme title, Cowboy Boots and Unsettled Debts introduces readers to Abby Rose and her team of seven fellow operatives. With a deadly mission in front of them, Abby’s team members are forced to face regrets as they come to terms with the fact they’ve fallen in love with one of their own. Now, with Abby taking an inside position on a very dangerous mission, Abby’s men work around the clock to make sure she leaves this assignment alive!
Hold on tight! This series moves faster than the hit TV show ‘24’!
Releasing November 7thCowboy Boots and Unsettled Debts, Book 3 in the Cowboy Boots Series
Blurb: 
Seduction turns deadly when Abby Rose, an agent with the Underground Unit, decides to put a provocative spin on revenge. Her plan to sleep with a cartel leader backfires when fellow operatives refuse Abby the opportunity to face her enemy alone.
Abby’s fellow agents begin the fight of their lives. After discovering Abby will use her body to lure in the man who killed her father, and their command leader, seven highly trained operatives cope with high tensions as each man comes to terms with feelings never previously acknowledged. 
This team isn’t fighting for another cause or plotting the best way to take out their mark. The stakes are much higher. These men will take up arms and meet their greatest challenge as they work together to protect the woman they admire and love.
Excerpt:
Rated R for content and language
Ace snarled. “I will spank her when this is over.” 
“Sure you will,” Casey said. “About like Porter plans to put a dildo in her pussy and paddle her twat.” 
“I never said that,” Porter said, keeping a keen eye on Abby. 
“Talk about that kiss and I’ll deck you,” Ace said. 
“Damn, those lips were sweet,” Porter teased. 
Ace faced him. “I wasn’t kidding.” 
Porter took a deep breath. Sometimes Ace’s attitude was a real obstacle. He was a smart-ass SOB when he wanted to be. Standing about six foot four, Ace was nothing more than layers of muscle. The only soft spot the man possessed was the one Porter held in high regard, too—Abby Rose. 
“I say we take him out right here,” Casey said, always ready to jump the gun. 
Casey looked like a kid, and very often Porter reminded himself Casey wasn’t a child, hard to do since the guy looked like a surfer boy of about eighteen. Only a year separated them. Porter was twenty-nine. Casey followed only a year behind. 
Still, Casey was a trained killer just like the lot of them. Under normal daily circumstances, he was such a klutz and a clown, but when he aimed his gun and pulled the trigger, no one had a more accurate shot. 
Fowler folded his hands atop the table. “I’m ready for this to be over.” 
“What’s wrong, Fowler,” Ace taunted him. “Afraid Juraz is gonna tap that?” 
“He won’t be a-tappin’ that. I’ll promise ya.” 
Porter and Ace exchanged a knowing stare. Porter shook his head in warning. It wasn’t worth the argument. They all recognized the possible scenarios. The best they could hope for was the most favorable. If Abby went to bed with Juraz, they wanted her to kill him before she was forced to fuck him. 
Unfortunately, they needed information from Juraz before she pulled the trigger. And he probably wouldn’t open his mouth unless she first opened those long, shapely legs. 
Copyright © 2011

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Welcome, Mahalia Levey who knows THE PRICE OF DEFIANCE!

Hi Cerise,
Thanks for having me on your blog. For those of your readers who don't know me, I'm multipublished and write a mixture of genres that include: Interracial romance, Contemporary romance, Military Romance, African American romance, BDSM, Shapeshifting Demon horror/paranormal dark erotic romance, Shapeshifting Tigers, Gargoyles and an assortment of other animals, I'm dabbling in Sci Fi and have one Cosmic short romance. My book lengths vary from 8 thousand words to forty-seven thousand words. I like variety and I go where the characters in my head lead me! I'd love to give a back listed copy away of one of my previous books to one winner today!
my links are www.mahalialevey.com www.mahalia2010.wordpress.com and www.twitter.com/hales3000 . You can find me on Facebook by searching Mahalia Levey. I have a fan page and an author page!

The Price of Defiance Available from Decadent Publishing.
America Patterson loves living on the edge. Living a double life, she car models by day and engages in illegal street racing by night, knowing she's one of the best. Underneath her flawless facade lies a young woman filled with turmoil. When her new found hobby lands her in hot water, she finds she may be in over her head.
Alejandro Escovedo is summoned home after his Mixed Martial Arts fight to find his best friends sister in jail, he knows he must intervene. Their explosive past gives him all rights where she’s concerned. He’s determined to end her dare-devil ways by finding the trigger to her self-destructive behavior.

Excerpt: Copyright 2011, Mahalia Levey. All rights reserved.

Antiseptic…sterile…death… The smells assailed her as she woke up. Amy raised her hand to feel her head and felt the tight pinch of handcuffs on her right hand. “Where am I?” She focused her blurry eyes until her vision cleared and saw a police officer sitting next to her.
“In the hospital for observation,” the uniformed officer answered.
“Why am I handcuffed?” she asked. Confusion clouded her judgment.
“You’ve been under doctor care for twenty-four hours. The EMT’s were able to rouse you while en route here. I read you your rights while transporting you in the ambulance. Do you remember why you were arrested?”
“No.” She paused to gather her thoughts. “My head hurts.”
“My name is Officer Blake. Do you know your name?” Officer Blake took out his pen and pad to take notes.
“America Patterson,” she answered.
“That’s not what the drivers’ license in your purse says. We’ll print and book you later,,” the officer stated and pulled out his radio.
“I’m going to jail?”
“Normally, people who vandalize private property, drive with reckless abandon, race illegally, and possess a fake identification card go to jail.”
America cringed. “Where’s my car?”
“Don’t you want to know if you harmed anyone?” he asked.
“I know I didn’t. I drove into the warehouse because I knew it was abandoned.” His rude tone annoyed her. She put her free hand to her head. “It hurts.”
“What’s left of your car is impounded for evidence. Lady—whatever your real name is—is there anyone you can call?”
“No…yes,” she said.
“Which is it, no or yes? You’ll need to be bailed out.”
“Where are my clothes?”
“What clothes? You had to be cut out of your car with the jaws of life. Your shredded clothing and broken heels are bagged for evidence, along with your purse.” He reached over and unlocked the cuff to free her hand then gave her his personal cell. “You’re damn lucky to be alive and relatively unharmed. Make the call. We’re leaving as soon as the doc clears you.”Amy heard the lecture in his voice. She took a deep breath and gulped back the fear of being escorted to a jail cell. She dialed her brother, Saint Vincent’s number.
“Hello,” a worried voice answered.
“Hi.” Amy sniffled.
“America, where are you?”
“Saint, I’m in big trouble.” Amy gripped the cell tightly to her ear. “I’m at Truman Memorial Hospital, about to be taken to jail.” She started to sob when reality dawned on her.
“Thank God, you’re alive. I’ve been going out of my mind since the link to the wreck was sent to my cell phone. Sit tight. We’ve been fielding police and the media, trying to protect your professional name. Sis, Alejandro demanded to be the one to handle the situation.”
“I’m sorry for scaring you.” Her brother and his team of misfits were all she had while growing up. Being named after their country of conception and proved just how zany her family was. Saint Vincent got his name chopped in half to Saint. “Is this going to hurt your business?” She winced at the thought of seeing Alejandro again after so long.
“No. Alejandro will make sure you have a smooth transaction. I’m forwarding him your info now. Sit still and relax. Can’t have the baby of the family locked up and forgotten.”
Her voice dropped an octave. “Can’t you come? I haven’t seen him since—”
“Miss, we’re ready to transport you to the police department,” Officer Blake interrupted.
“I gotta go.” Amy snapped the phone shut and handed it back to the officer. He was kind enough to leave, allowing her to change into the scrubs they’d sent for. She rapped and opened the door after toeing into the slip-on canvas shoes. “I’m ready.” Head dropped low, she allowed them to escort her to the jailhouse that was a ten-minute ride away.
Being booked took longer than she’d expected, and it mortified her. A nifty machine imprinted her fingerprints electronically after they took her mug shot. The issue with her identification became clear once she had a chance to speak and separate her professional identity from her personal one. When they finished processing her fingerprints and mug shot, she followed them through general population and looked at all the criminals on the way to her holding cell. The door buzzed and opened, and she was ushered in. She cast a glance at the officer, who shook his head, locked the door, and turned his back.
I’m not a criminal.