Friday, July 30, 2010

Last tempting bite out of SUMMER OF THE COUGAR

Now you must rush over to www.jasminejade. com to purchase this. It debuts TODAY!
Excerpt: Copyright 2010, Nicole Austin. All rights reserved.
JD stepped into the doorway, still fully dressed, her panties dangling from his fingertips. He leaned against the doorframe, lifted the material to his face and took a deep breath. He looked so damn sexy. And for the night, he was hers.
Every muscle tensed and Rissa swore she felt his hard exhaled breath against the throbbing flesh between her thighs. She trembled in expectation as he leaned casually in the doorway, his gaze leisurely traveling over every inch of bare skin. How the hell did he remain so calm and collected when she felt like a tightly wound coil ready to snap?
Without a word, he straightened and took a slow step forward. The heat of his dark gaze never left her as he moved closer. Fisting his shirt, he tugged the material free of his jeans and dragged it up his body. Mesmerized by his movements, not even a bomb blast would have drawn her attention from the tanned flesh revealed inch by torturously slow inch.
Chiseled muscles rippled over his washboard abdomen. Her gaze followed the solid planes and angles as his torso broadened into a magnificent chest with solid pecs and flat, dark nipples she hungered to touch, to taste. Mmm…she’d love to lick every swirling line of that sexy tattoo covering the beefy muscles of his left arm. A light dusting of dark hair on his chest narrowed to a thin line disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.
God, the worn denim had driven her to distraction all afternoon. Faded blue, almost white near his groin, slung low on trim hips and cupping his muscular thighs to perfection.
He stayed still as she looked him over. As their eyes met, Rissa became lost in the intense fires burning in the dark pools. No man had ever looked at her with such undiluted longing. It did funny things to her insides. Thousands of butterflies took flight in her belly and her heart felt stretched, swollen with a barrage of emotions.
His hands slid over his abdomen and her gaze dropped to watch dexterous fingers work the fastener and draw down the zipper. JD leaned over, blocking her view as he pulled the denim toward his bare feet. Shoes she hadn’t noticed him kick off lay on the floor near the doorway.
Tossing his pants to the side, JD rose to his full height and Rissa nearly swallowed her tongue. Sweet Jesus! She may have taken on more than she could handle. But what a damn good time she’d have giving it her all.
His thick, ruddy shaft hung heavily between his widespread legs. Roped with plump veins and capped with a broad crown, a bead of fluid glistened at the slit. But what drove her crazy was the gold, open hoop with small balls capping each end that pierced his crown.
Rissa’s mouth went dry for a moment before flooding with saliva as she imagined taking his beautiful cock in her mouth. And her pussy—Christ! Her pussy clenched and hot cream slid over sensitive tissues to coat her inner thighs as she contemplated the wonderful friction of her body stretching to accommodate that big cock. Before the night was over she intended to know how that piercing felt thrusting into her aching body.
Long fingers fisted his shaft, tugging upward and giving her a glimpse of the hefty sac drawn up close to his body.
“JD,” she pleaded, unable to lift her gaze from the solid fist squeezing and gliding over his cock. Thankfully he understood and took the last few steps bringing him to the edge of the mattress.
Rissa couldn’t remain still or wait any longer. She’d waited too long for this. Her body took over, moving before the conscious thought formed in her head. His hand dropped away as her fingers slid over the hot, silken skin, her fingertips learning his shape, tracing pulsing veins. Over the super-smooth head, around the thick ridge, against a spot on the underside where the hoop disappeared. A spot that made the thick flesh jerk within her grasp.
Her fingers barely met around the shaft beneath his crown. As she slid her hand farther her fist was forced wider, fingertips losing contact at the substantial base. She leaned in closer, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, drinking in his heady scent. He smelled hot and masculine, like long steamy nights.
Opening her eyes, she met his heavy-lidded gaze as she stuck out her tongue and captured the fluid dripping from his slit. He cursed as she hummed in appreciation of his salty male flavor then lightly tugged his piercing. One small taste wasn’t enough. She wanted—needed more.
Rissa held his gaze as her tongue circled the head, quickly becoming addicted to the invigorating taste of JD, spice and pure sin. She knelt on the bed before him, breathless, holding the hard length in her hand, drawing the large head into her mouth. A riot of energy surged through her, making her feel more alive than she had in years—wild, feminine, powerful. She moaned, sucked at his crest and flicked her tongue on the sensitive spot underneath. The sharp hiss she drew from him sent excited shivers racing along her spine.
JD’s fingers bunched in her hair, flexed, tightened. The slight bite of pain made her scalp tingle and she sucked harder.
“Rissa.” His voice had turned rough, raspy. The command in his tone had her gaze snapping to his face. “Stop.”
Stop? She didn’t want to stop. Her mouth watered to suck him deeper. She swallowed hard, hungering for the hot wash of his cum in the back of her throat.
“Lay back on the bed and spread your legs, baby.”
Oh, okay. That sounded promising.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Need another taste of SUMMER OF THE COUGAR?

Another morsel of SUMMER OF THE COUGAR now!
Nicole Austin's book debuts July 30 at EC.
Excerpt: (copyright 2010, Nicole Austin. All rights reserved.)

The spicy scent of chorizo and onions grilling in the skillet had her stomach growling. She scrambled in some eggs and raisins then the completed dish went into the warm oven along with a plate of fresh tortillas. Earlier she’d made salsa and set the table. But she was hungry for more than food. Rissa had every intention of getting JD on the menu.
She headed for her laptop to check email when someone knocked on the door. Glancing at the clock she noted how fast he’d made the drive. She started talking as she opened the door. “Wow, you made good ti—”
The sight of JD waiting on her doorstep, smiling at her broadly, had the words dying in her dry throat as Rissa nearly swallowed her tongue. She’d imagined how he’d look out of the uniform. Her imagination had nothing on reality.
Washed so many times the material was nearly threadbare, his blue T-shirt bore the fire department emblem and lovingly conformed to his chiseled torso. Intricate lines of a black tattoo that accentuated his huge biceps disappeared under his left sleeve. She longed to trace all those twisting, twirling lines with the tip of her tongue, and contemplated how much skin they covered.
He’d tucked the shirt into a faded pair of low-riding shorts that failed to disguise the thick bulge that extended all the way to his left hip. Saliva flooded her mouth and she wondered how he’d taste. Her breasts felt swollen and heavy, and with each ragged breath her rock-hard nipples rasped against her top. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Rissa realized more than her mouth had gotten wet.
“Damn, honey. You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”
He lifted his right hand and held out a red fire extinguisher bearing a festive streamer of multi-colored ribbons. How had she failed to notice the large red cylinder dangling from his fist? “I brought you a present.”
“Um…thanks.” Rather unique gift.
“When you get another car, I want you to put that in the trunk so I’ll know you’re safe.”
The sweet gesture left her speechless. For several long moments she stared into his dark eyes. Reflected in their depths she saw the potential for a future. A long-lasting relationship.
Rissa shook her head to dispel the rather disturbing idea. She wanted to live, have fun, sample all the different flavors she’d never tasted—not tie herself to one man. No matter how sweet and sexy and thoughtful he might be.
Breakfast. They were supposed to be having breakfast.
“Come on in.” Stepping back from the door, she allowed him to enter her home. Not sure what else to do with it, she put his gift in the hall closet. Turning back toward him she said, “I hope you’re hungry. I cooked—”
The breath rushed from her lungs as her back came up against the wall. Warmth and JD’s masculine scent enveloped her as his hard body fitted against her soft curves. It was a glorious fit. His body caged hers and his fingers bracketed her face, holding her in place.
“I’m starved.” His voice rumbled close to her ear. “For you.” Then his lips, soft yet firm, brushed along her jaw, moving slowly toward her mouth. She could have ducked or turned her head away. Longing for his kiss, she did neither. At the first touch of his lips to hers, Rissa spontaneously combusted. Fire raced across her skin and her blood turned to molten lava. From head to toe she burned and her toes curled into the carpet.
Dios, she might need that fire extinguisher to put out the flames.
He claimed her mouth in a scorching hot kiss and her lips opened wide, inviting him inside. JD accepted her summons. His tongue thrust into her mouth, slid against hers and she moaned as his bold and sweet taste washed over her like warm, delicious honey. Without conscious thought, her arms wrapped around his neck and she clung to him.
JD took over, exploring her mouth with his tongue, drinking down her needy moans and whimpers. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and everywhere they touched, from shoulder to knee, his body heat left a wake of desire licking at her skin.
She had never been so thoroughly and completely kissed. And if the shudders that shook his body were any indication, she wasn’t alone. Their kiss had the same potent effect on him.
The heady mating of their mouths ended way too soon. Resting his forehead against hers, JD stared into her eyes as they both struggled to find solid footing. Her body hummed with desire, aching and ready for more. She wanted so much more.
“Damn, baby,” he panted. “You’re burning me alive.”
Burning him? He’s the one who started the inferno. He damn well needed to do something other than stare at her. Preferably something involving the long, thick erection that had left its impression branded over her abdomen.
“Now that we have the first kiss out of the way, we can relax and enjoy breakfast.”

Wednesday, July 28, 2010


With the big four-oh looming, Larissa Cross is more than ready to shed the roles that have defined her and make drastic changes. Gone are the widowed Army wife, soccer mom and empty nester. She’s even setting aside the school teacher until fall.
A naughty challenge issued by fellow erotic romance booklovers on their blog, Tempt the Cougar, has come at the perfect time and ignited Rissa’s competitive drive. It’s going to be a glorious summer full of hot younger man lovin’ for a new cougar on the prowl. Rawr!
Tattooed and pierced fireman JD Harmon is tempting prey but there’s much more to the hunk than his bad boy good looks. A one night stand isn’t in his plans and sex—no matter how mind-blowing—won’t distract him from his goals. JD intends to tame the wicked cougar and stake a claim on her heart.
Excerpt: (copyright 2010, Nicole Austin. All rights reserved.)
Rissa plopped down on top of the sturdy molded-plastic cooler with a heavy sigh as her wonderful plans for the summer disintegrated. In need of some emotional support, she longed to call one of the cougars.
What would they do in this situation?
A wicked grin tugged at her lips. The cougars would tell her to check out the emergency workers and if possible get pictures. They’d also tell Rissa to flirt her ass off and get one of those hot young studs to take her home.
“Who owns the car?”
She looked up as one of the firemen headed in her direction while scribbling information on a battered clipboard.
“Uh…me. I do.”
Oh yeah, I do. Please and thank you!
Damn, the man was gorgeous. Better than any of the pictures the girls posted on their Tempt the Cougar blog.
He was tall, at least six-one, and had a shaved head. A bit of dark stubble covered his scalp, ran along his square jawline and above his mouth. A very sexy mouth. He had to be in his early twenties by her estimation. Not too young or old. Perfect age for cougar prey.
Yes, what is your name, hot stuff? Please tell me.
Broad shoulders blocked out the sun as he moved to stand before her. What she wouldn’t give to have him strip off the fire gear and let her see his body. From his solid build she guessed he had lots of yummy muscles. Maybe even a six-pack. She easily pictured running her fingers over his tanned skin, feeling the sinew ripple beneath her fingertips.
“That’s Miss Cross,” Tyler, her proud protector, stated. “She’s a teacher in Tampa. Elementary school.”
What a wonderful, helpful boy.
The fire god nodded toward the police officer ready to ticket the boys’ pickup. “If that’s your truck, you might want to move it.”
“Aw crap,” one of the boys groaned. The group loped off, leaving Rissa alone with the hunk whose sharp focus all of a sudden made her nervous and fidgety.
He might have been preoccupied earlier but now she had his undivided attention. Coal black eyes took a slow journey from the top of her head down her see-through cover-up, pausing at breasts nearly spilling out of tiny bright blue triangles before dipping down to linger on her tattoo then stroke her legs. And boy did his gaze ever have the impact of a physical caress. Everywhere his eyes touched her skin tightened and long-ignored nerve endings tingled.
If he can do that with a look, imagine what he’d be able to do with those big, strong hands.
That thought notched up the temperature by a good ten degrees and had sweat trickling between breasts that felt swollen. Her body hummed with sexual need and her nipples were standing at attention, clearly visible beneath the thin material of her bikini top.
“Hi. I’m JD Harmon.”
He extended a hand and she slid her fingers into his firm grip, biting back a gasp as lightning bolts raced up her arm and headed straight for her core. All those erotic stories she’d been reading had left her ready for some action. And JD the fireman was looking like a prime candidate.
“They’re going to send a wrecker for your car. Insurance company will probably total it since the entire electrical system is toast.”
Rissa held on to his hand as if it was a lifeline and stared up at those mesmerizing dark eyes. She knew he was talking to her but the words didn’t penetrate the haze of lust that had swallowed her whole.
“Miss Cross?”
“Rissa,” she absently mumbled. He let go of her hand and a wave of disappointment crashed over her. But then he turned and bumped her hip with his, making a space to sit down. Right next to her on the narrow cooler. Close enough she caught a whiff of sandalwood cologne and clean, masculine sweat. Mmm…he smelled wonderful. Hot and spicy. The right side of his body pressing against her from shoulder to ankle felt even better and gave her a rush of positive vibes.
I am cougar, hear me roar!
“Do you have a way home?”
“I…home?” Her voice once again disappeared, along with the original question.
Good idea. Your place or mine?
Return tomorrow for more! This book debuts FRIDAY!

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Nicole Austin ROARS with new Cougar release

Thought of taking the Cougar Challenge?
Reading Nicole Austin's newest in that series will convince you.
Scrumptious cover, eh?
Return tomorrow and the next day for nibbles of SUMMER OF THE COUGAR from this master storyteller!
I am in Utah for a Shakespeare Festival and will return to speak in iambic pentameter. VERILY!
Ciao, Bella!

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Switching genres, keeping it fresh.

With 3 books coming out in August (2 historicals and 1 contemporary), I know that switching genres is how I keep my brain firing on all cylinders.
I read WIDELY. (see sidebar called Books I've read lately)
So writing widely comes naturally.
I started in this biz writing 1st person gothics. You know, the lady running from the monster/villain/crazy woman in the tower.
Then I moved to medievals and Victorians. Straight historical romances, 3rd person. Won a few awards there and earned enough $$$ to put 2 kids through private high school and college!
Long about that time, I wrote with a partner and we did not only mainstream but a Victorian mystery series. We won a few awards and lots of kudos.
Finally, I said, okay now I want to do contemporary mystery. Those books became FEATURED ALTERNATES of The Mystery Guild, a few others, and got rave reviews!
All of that? In print. Under another name.
Cerise is into romantica. In a big way. And loving the biz model of e-publishing. Witness I have 3 books coming out in AUGUST! (LADY FEATHERSTONE (Resplendence) , FOR HER HONOUR (Total-E-Bound) & WHENEVER WE MEET (EC))
The book cover above?
My 8.11.10 release from
LADY FEATHERSTONE is a hoyden. If you like Regencies, you may adore her!
Ciao, bella!

Saturday, July 3, 2010


Welcome to my buddy and critique partner, Emma Jay, here with her new release, LESSONS FOR TEACHER! I read this in group...and wow, will you love it!
Summary: University teaching assistant Jamie Winston is ready to break out of her shy, unadventurous shell by finally approaching Brady Lane—the sexy Iraqi war vet seated in the front row of her journalism class. He's brave and outgoing—something Jamie is not—and good looking to boot. Her shy flirtation with Brady at a frat party leads to a deliciously sinful tryst that leaves her wanting more. Each breathless encounter with Brady peels away a layer of Jamie's insecurity, leaving her more wanton and willing each time. But eventually, all good things must come to an end. When Brady finally leaves for an internship, will Jamie be brave enough to let him go?
Excerpt: (copyright Emma Jay, 2010, All rights reserved.)

Brady grinned. He took her bottle from her and set it on the windowsill behind her, then took her hand and led her to the dance floor.

Well, such as it was. An area near the stereo had been cleared for dancing and was packed with bodies moving to the music. There was barely room for Brady to squeeze in, much less the two of them, but still he rested his hands on her hips and pulled her close, close enough that every movement of her body, or his, put her in contact, belly to thigh. He was warm—very warm—and hard. All over. He tightened his fingers on her hips and drew her closer, so her belly rubbed against his groin. She was aware of his cock growing with the contact. Her gaze flicked to his as her face heated, and her sex melted.
He watched her with an unnerving intensity, as if he could see every thought and desire racing through her head, and was ready to make them all come true.

He slid one hand up to her waist so his thumb rode beneath her breast, and she wanted to shift to bring his touch against her nipple, which beaded in anticipation. Just the thought made her breast ache, her pussy contract. He swayed with her, slower than the music dictated. Slow and sexy and seductive. Tentatively, she pressed her stomach against his cock and slid up, then down the length. Heat flashed in his eyes, and his jaw tightened, clearly appreciating her daring.
The look he gave her encouraged her to take it further. She brushed her breasts against the wall of his chest.

“You know, I thought you probably had a great body, but it’s hard to tell with those clothes you usually wear.” He brushed his thumb along the underside of her breast before sliding his hand back to her waist.

She wanted to whimper in protest. Was she not adept at sending signals? “That’s kind of the point.”

“Yeah, but those skirts slay me. Some days all I can think about is getting my hands under them, shoving them all the way up.” His hands slid down the thighs of her jeans, up over her hips, his fingers digging in briefly, pressing her against him.

“Oh!” Her knees wobbled at the thought.

He lowered his head. “I think about putting you on that desk with your skirt around your waist and kissing you till you come.”

“Brady.” His name was a moan, but she didn’t look away. Couldn’t. How many times had she fantasized about the same thing?

“Truth or dare?” The words were a breath over her skin.

“Dare,” she managed.

“I dare you to come into the next room and make my fantasy come true.”

She drew away, just a few inches. “I’m not wearing a skirt.”

“I can work around that.”

Friday, July 2, 2010

LORD STANHOPE has 2 brothers and 1 half-sister...

Clarice, Lady Ramsey, has recently lost her husband. Alas, she does wear black...and purple...and she is oh so deliciously contemplating the time in the very near future when she may go out into the ton again. Or she may remain at home more. She's not yet decided.
She has new staff, you see.
Chosen for her by her late husband. Dear man, he always chose so well. And now that he is gone? Well! One must continue to keep up the standards of a well-run home.
Don't you agree?
Lady Ramsey's tale will appear soon and you may read how well she accepts her widowhood.
And you may read it free of charge.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Another bite of LORD STANHOPE?

Lord Adam Stanhope faces the Stanhope Challenge of wanting to marry, knowing the union will be loveless and tormenting. But he takes one look at his childhood friend, now a lovely widow, and proposes a marriage in name only. But when he learns that his bride is determined to be his lover as well as his wife, he faces a bigger challenge: Accept her delicious offer to delight them both in bed or spend his life in a greater torment...alone.
Available now from
A nibble of Lord Stanhope's Improper Proposal:
(copyright 2010, Cerise DeLand, All rights reserved.)
Felice had tried conversation with him.
Adam sat silent in the coach to Dover, gazing out at the graying landscape and brooding. But now, here at the inn, she was determined to brave his mood and make the consummation of this marriage a joyous night. A good beginning to a stunning match and domestic bliss. A counterpoint to the scandalous series in the Tell-Tale by Miss Proper.
She pushed that errant thought aside quickly, skimmed her hands down her negligee and ran the brush through her long waves once more. Beneath the Italian chiffon, she felt her nipples bead. Her heart raced and her cunny swelled.
This night will be better than those with Wallace.
Her first husband had known nothing of subtleties. Not in art or music, books or cards. And certainly not in the finer points of making love.
But Adam Stanhope does.
Rumor said he did. Living in the Orient, he was reputed to have learned the exotic sexual practices of the Chinese. His mistresses put it about that he was agile and demanding. Her friends in the Risque Society applauded her daring marital catch and told her Adam’s exotic physical practices could make a woman howl in fulfillment. Certainly, too, he must have benefited from his two brothers’ tales of their legendary prowess with women. Jack’s preference was for titled ladies whose husbands did not serve them well. Wesley’s reputed taste was for a certain tea merchant’s daughter. Felice thirsted to taste such delights herself.
“Felice?” Adam called through the door. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” Hurry.
She turned. The sight of him made her mouth water.
For a man who spent most of his days indoors, he retained the muscular physique of a man who indulged in horses and fencing. His midnight hair was thick and curly, perhaps more so than her own. His thick eyelashes fringed lightning-bright blue eyes that sparked and sent shocks of delight down to her core. She smiled, suppressing a grin that their children, if they were fortunate enough to have any at her late age, would definitely be black–haired devils. His sultry gaze fell down her body and gave her pause.
“You look lovely.”
She smiled more broadly.
“The ivory and lace do you justice,” he told her, securing the sash of his dressing gown and turning toward the window. Hands behind his back, he looked out over the Channel waters and flexed his shoulders.
She went to stand behind him. His cologne wafted over her senses. The sage and anise aroused her need to have him take her in his arms.
“Thank you for the lovely nosegay. And my wedding ring,” she said and paused to feel the circle of tiny diamonds around her finger, “is more stunning than I thought.” She was tempted to say, I don’t need diamonds, but stopped herself. His Great Aunt Amaryllis had cautioned her not to be self-deprecating to him. “Adam hates that in anyone, especially a woman,” the lady had warned.
“Adam, I know we have not had much time to become reacquainted, what with Parliament in session, but I am eager to begin. Our friendship was a solid one when we were young and—”
“Listen to me, Felice.” He whirled on her, his large, electric-blue eyes caressing her lips, her throat and falling to her cleavage and her pointed nipples. He inhaled and focused on her mouth. “I want you to know how grateful I am that you agreed to marry me.”
“Gratitude is wonderful, but there must be more.” More that you feel for me or you would not have asked. She reached out to touch her hand to his.
“How true.” He rubbed her fingers for a moment then jerked away. “But with us, this arrangement we have is different.”
“Yes, we were friends long before this. Trusted each other with our secrets. Read each others’ little stories. Knew what the other wanted from life.”
He stared at her. “We were children, Fee. We acted like ragamuffins and tore up the countryside with our antics.”
She chuckled. “Some marriages are based on less. Ours will be founded in more.” She extended her hand to cup his cheek.
He clasped her fingers. “Don’t, Fee. Please. This is hard enough.”
Her spine stiffened. He didn’t want her? She was comely. She knew it. Squire Forester had asked for her hand last year. Months before, Sir Harold Spencer had offered. She might be thirty and a widow, but she was not ugly. Her body was svelte, her breasts perhaps too large. And aye, her hair was black as hell and not the pale froth so popular. Her skin was flawless. Most of all, she had a mind she used to write epic poems, though indeed she earned a pittance for her labors. Her invention of Miss Proper was a new ploy and her forthcoming series loosely alluding to him, a ruse—a terrible necessity to satisfy her debts. Still, she had married him, welcomed this offer because she wanted him. Not his money. Not his name. Not his position. No, she had always adored him. And never had thought to have the chance to live with him. So when the offer came, she’d grabbed it. “Whatever are you talking about, Adam?”
“You know I respect you, Fee.”
“Do I?”
“Of course, you do. I like your spirit, your conversation. I even like your poetry.”
I doubt you’ll like my prose. She arched a brow. “Romantic nonsense, you called it when I first began.”
“You are much better at it now than at twelve, and it has made you a penny or two.”
“Writing is a poorly paid profession. My father paid his published authors the same as I earn today for each copy of my works.” She tried for levity, but the fact that she had made more in an advance on a political scandal sheet series about him made her cold with worry. She shivered, so far from the fire and, too, so far from the warmth she had expected of him on their wedding trip. She backed toward the flames of the fireplace.
“Christ! Felice, don’t stand there.” His gaze flowed down her form and stuck on the juncture of her thighs.
She looked down her body. Silhouetted by the dancing red conflagration behind her, her body seemed almost bare of the transparent silk.
“Out with this, Adam. What are you telling me?”
“I married you for convenience.”
So, Dear Reader, will he be able to accomplish this tiny task?