Friday, November 30, 2012

Santa, Baby, I want a new convertible too. It's true....
You're my fella. Santa, baby, I want you down my chimney tonight.
Well, why not, eh?
Those are my para-phrasings of the old Eartha Kitt song that still make me smile!
And here is my Holiday story that goes with it!
Santa, Cutie.
About a gal on a holiday vacation in Alaska, ready to meet a man chosen for her by a matchmaker!
A very wise matchmaker!

Susanna Corrigan believes in Santa Claus. Always did. So a Christmas-time flight to Alaska for a one night stand with a man especially 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 takes her ballroom dancing. She’s enchanted--but scared.
What will it cost her to make Gil Mr. Right Forever?
Copyright 2011, All rights reserved, Cerise DeLand.
Excerpt here:
Gil Santana promised himself one more lap 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….
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.
He’d written his request on his questionnaire. No actresses. In Hollywood for nearly ten years, he had left tinsel town last fall for Oregon and a post as a professor in a college fine arts department. If the day job was fulfilling, teaching kids about the history of cinema, he got as big a kick from his “night” job putting together his own independent film company. And he had decided to apply at 1Night Stand for a night of pleasure on a recommendation from a scriptwriter. The man had done one and not only had a great time with the woman they chose for him, but continued the relationship after their fun-filled night.
Gil frowned. He didn’t hope for happily-ever-after. He was perhaps too jaded for that. But he did believe it was possible to have a brief affair and value it for what it was. Short. Hot. Creative. And memorable.
Then something hit him right between the eyes.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Lily Harlem does to-die-for menage in THE GLASS KNOT!

What’s a girl to do when the guy she falls for is married to another man?

This is exactly what happened to me. Seeing Josh Kendal stroll out of the Mediterranean Sea wearing tight navy swim trunks and looking like a hot new James Bond was a truly delicious moment. Catching sight of his wedding ring was like a kick in the shin and meeting his gorgeous husband, phew, that was enough to make any girl groan at the cruel joke God was playing on her.

But all was not as it seemed, and when Josh needed a woman to sort out a ‘delicate predicament’ I was the one for the job – heck, what did I have to lose? Certainly not as much as him, literally.

Trouble is, emotions always get tangled, loyalties can’t help but be divided and with a night of memories so hot they'd have the devil sweating, there was only one thing for it—it was time to get honest, fight for what I wanted despite society’s constraints and open my heart to the people it needed most.

Reader advisory - The Glass Knot is an erotic romance featuring M/M and M/F love and every combination of two guys and a girl you can think of!
The term voyeurism comes from the French voyeur, "one who looks" and voyeurism is the practice of spying on people engaged in intimate behaviors, such as undressing, or having sex or, for that matter, any other action usually considered to be of a private nature. The watched is often unaware of being observed though this doesn’t have to be the case and many people enjoy exhibiting themselves in front of others – though that’s a different blog post entirely!

In The Glass Knot there is one particular scene that really poured from my fingertips when writing it. I was next to Laura, ducking in the bushes below the kitchen window, watching Josh and Nick embarking on an angry, passionate session. I could feel her anxiety at getting caught and understood the battle she had with her conscience, should she stay or should she go?

I’ve only experienced this type of sneaky peeking vicariously, through my characters, I’ve never actually stumbled on a couple going for it, male/female or like in this case male/male. But if I did I think I’d be torn between walking away and leaving them to it and staying to feast my eyes on the sexy sight.

There is something all of us find fascinating about another couple making love, and for my character Laura, this fascination has an extra dimension. She’s seen affection between Josh and Nick and found that when they kissed in front of her it was the hottest thing she’d ever witnessed. So she’s curious, more than curious, she is absolutely captivated by the two men and desperate to know what they do together – exactly – when alone. She’s even laid in bed, touching herself and thinking about them in the next room, fantasizing about what they’re doing, how they’re pleasing each other.

But Laura is really torn in this voyeuristic scene, because it’s her fault the men are angry and Josh feels the need to prove his love and desire for Nick. So I guess if you’re a cause, a symptom of what you’re witnessing, there are bigger connotations. Should you stay to see what the outcome is and what it will mean for you? But if you get spotted will it stir things up further? Read on to see what Laura does when faced with this situation…

Voyeur scene

I sat for ten long minutes, hugging my knees and staring at the shard of light that had kissed Josh so exquisitely only moments ago. I concentrated on the flecks of dust floating in the air where he’d stood—it gave me something to do and helped prevent tears of shame taking hold. Because once they did, I wasn’t sure they would stop.
Eventually, I stood and pulled my knickers and jeans up my damp legs. My mind was spinning. Part of me wanted to celebrate the fact that Josh did indeed have feelings for me—hot, steamy feelings. Another part, a much bigger part, couldn’t believe how cruel I’d been to Nick. I was a disgrace, a Judas in his house. He was a fool to have ever let me over the threshold.
I’d seen the pain and fear in Nick’s eyes, heard it in his voice yesterday. He’d known the risk of me being here was huge but said I was understanding and invited me to stay longer, because, I suspected, he trusted me. Despite this I’d let his worst nightmare happen. How horrible a person was I?
Even I hate me.
I’d broken that fragile sliver of trust, but what was going to be truly devastating for him was the fact Josh had broken his trust. My heart swelled painfully as I thought of the agony he would be feeling right now, if indeed, Josh was telling him what we’d just done. No, Nick didn’t deserve that, he was a good man, a kind man, who just wanted to live a quiet life with the person he loved.
I stood and brushed the hay from my back and plucked several stalks from my hair. I would have to go home, to London, now. Grab my bag and get the hell out of Little Mickleton.
The sun had me blinking rapidly as I let myself out of the barn. The midday heat caressed my shoulders but it didn’t warm me. I was cold—cold and ashamed.
The cat meowed from under the first apple tree I walked past, his green eyes hard and accusing, as if he knew I’d caused great suffering to his owners.
Gripping my camera, I walked down the path, hoping that I could get to the guest room, grab my case and hit the road without being seen. I just needed to think straight for a few more minutes, then, once in the safety of my car, I could wade through the tirade of emotions.
The Kendals didn’t need me in their home for another second, let alone another night.
I was thankful for my soft-soled shoes as I walked over the patio, my approach to the house silent. It seemed the blackbird was otherwise engaged on the fence, holding a snail shell in his beak, and he didn’t bother to squawk at my presence.
It was then I heard voices. Deep voices. Loud with outbursts of emotion.
I paused and glanced through the open kitchen window.
Josh and Nick were standing by the Aga. Josh was still bare chested though his skin and hair looked damp, as though he’d shot through the shower to remove physical evidence of me; it made me think of Lady Macbeth, obsessively washing her hands over and over after the murder of the king.
Nick wore a neat red polo shirt and an expression of both fury and agony. “Nick, please just listen,” Josh pleaded.
“Why the hell should I?”
“Because I love you, you know I do, with all my heart I just—”
“Clearly you don’t love me, not enough anyway, not if you just fucked her.” Nick flung his hand to the ceiling as though indicating that I was upstairs.
I pressed my fingers to my lips and held in a gasp. Josh had wasted no time in telling Nick.
“It’s not like that, and you know it isn’t,” Josh said, frustration and guilt vibrating through his words.
“So tell me then. What the hell is it like?”
Josh slotted both hands into his hair, his elbows out to the side, exposing his pale underarms with their haze of dark golden curls. “I, I don’t know. I’m just drawn to her. There’s something about her.”
Nick huffed. “There are lots of pretty women out there that have neat, soft curves and smell of flowers, Josh. What do you want to do, screw all of them to get it out of your system?”
“No, that’s a crazy thing to say.” Josh reached for Nick.
Nick stepped away, toward the island, his face dark and bitter with hurt.
“Please,” Josh said, still holding out his arms. “We talked about this. I told you I wouldn’t be able to have sex with just anyone. There needed to be an emotional connection and now we just have to work out what that means, to me, to us...”
“It means that you’ve got emotional connection with Laura, and you can’t control your cock when you’re around her. Fucking great.”
“And where the hell does that leave me? Am I old goods now? Ready for recycling?”
“Jesus, Nick, no. You’re my husband and I love you.” Josh grabbed Nick’s shoulders, bunched his red top in his fists and shoved him back against the island. “I love you so much. More than life itself.”
Nick, trapped against the granite surface, twisted within Josh’s grip. “Damn funny way of showing it by fucking someone else behind my back.” He pushed at Josh’s chest. “I can’t believe you’ve broken those vows we made. You’ve shattered the trust—trust is fragile, Josh, don’t you know that, as delicate as glass, and now it’s gone, broken beyond repair.” He shunted his whole body forward.
Josh jolted then braced against the shove. “Nick...” He stepped up closer, pinning Nick tight with his strong, bulk.
“Leave me alone,” Nick said, his voice rising even higher. “Just fuck off will you.”
“No, we have to sort this out.” They both pushed at one another. “We can fix this,” Josh shouted.
Nick let out a grunt of frustration when Josh wouldn’t give up. “There’s nothing to sort out and it can’t ever be fixed. Go to Laura, go screw her since it seems that’s all you want to do these days.”
Josh froze. His mouth hung slack. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Nick turned his head to the side, toward the window.
I ducked low, right to the ground.
“You know what I mean, just think about it.” Nick’s voice, dripping with both sarcasm and upset.
I parted the soft branches of a crimson fuscia bush and peered back into the kitchen. My heart was racing. They were arguing. Now was the time to go and grab my stuff and make a quick exit. But I couldn’t. I was nailed to the floor. Something about the way they were together, unguarded, unaware that they were being watched made me feel like I was seeing the real them, the side of Nick and Josh that fascinated me.
“You’re not making sense,” Josh said, a deep frown plowing across his brow and his mouth now a stern, unhappy line. Again Nick tried to move away, but Josh placed a palm on the side of his face and roughly turned his head so they were eye to eye. “Nick, what the fuck does that mean?” His voice was dangerously low. “What else have I done wrong?”
Nick stilled. He clenched his jaw and balled his fists against Josh’s chest.
“Nick? What?”
“Since we got back from Spain, you’ve hardly wanted me at all. It’s always me coming on to you.”
Josh gasped and widened his eyes. “What? That’s not true.”
“It is, you’re always tired, or busy or...”
“That’s crap!” Josh’s voice was full of disbelief. “I’ve wanted you every minute of every day since the day we met. I still do. I will always want you.” He gripped Nick’s head in both hands, leaned forward and kissed him, devouring him hungrily and wildly.
Nick struggled against the kiss. Pushing and wriggling, his hands pulling at Josh’s tendon-rich forearms. “No.” Eventually he tore his mouth from Josh’s. “No, don’t kiss me.”
“Yes,” Josh growled, circling his arms around Nick’s shoulders and pulling him up tight. “Fucking yes. I will kiss you, because I do want you. You make me crazy for you.”
“The same way Laura does?” Nick shouted, banging his fists on Josh’s back, once, twice then clinging to him as though about to sag to the floor and the only thing that could hold him up was Josh.
“No, because you’re you. It’s different between us. Completely different.”
Nick seemed to find his strength and thumped Josh’s back with his fists again. “I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that.” He grabbed Josh’s shoulders and shoved. “There’s someone else in your life now. I know when I’m not wanted.”
But Nick couldn’t escape Josh’s steely hold, even when he put some serious muscle behind another whack to his shoulder.
Josh simply grunted, spun Nick within his arms, and pushed him over the island.
“Get the fuck off me,” Nick bellowed, flattening his palms on the granite surface to prevent his forehead from cracking down. His face was scarlet, his eyes flashing.
“No,” Josh growled in a voice I barely recognized. “You want me to show you how much I want you, I will. Right here, right now.”
“Jesus Christ, no…” Nick thrust his hips backward and went to stand. “Get the hell off me.”
Josh pushed him back over the island again, so he was bent at a right angle. He rammed his groin at Nick’s butt. “You want it, you’ll get it,” he said, curling one hand over the waistband of Nick’s black sweats and tugging them down.
I held my breath and stared, wide eyed as Nick’s taut butt cheeks were exposed. He wore black Calvin boxers and I could see the white writing on the waistband at the top of his hair-coated thighs.
Oh my God. Am I really going to hide here and watch this? Watch them have an angry fuck?
The kitchen seemed alive with their aggression, the strength of their limbs and the heat in their words. It was as though their unharnessed fury and passion was another living, breathing being.
I was as fascinated as I was terrified.
Josh was fumbling with his fly, one handedly releasing a zip that had only been done back up fifteen minutes ago. But then, although we’d been frantic, he’d been considerate. This was a different kind of passion. This was vying for control, being dominant. Fucking at its most basic.
“Josh, no,” Nick cried. But his words no longer matched his actions. Although he said no, his hand was down where his cock must be and his eyes had shut tight. He was no longer struggling to get up from the island. He was sprawled over it, waiting, sacrificial almost.
“I’m going to fuck you so damn hard. I’m going to fuck you so you scream my name and remember how much I fucking love you,” Josh said through gritted teeth. He tugged his erect shaft from the gap in his jeans.
My pussy clenched. The sight of Josh’s cock and the feral passion on his face would stay with me forever. This was not the same person who I’d gently seduced in Marbella. This was a man who had harnessed his sexuality and was using it in an extreme way.
I should go. This is wrong of me. This is adding to the wrongs I’ve already done.
I had to stay.

* * * 
I hope you enjoyed that snippet and do share your thoughts. Have you ever stumbled across something you shouldn’t have? Was it exciting or mortifying? Did you run for the hills or duck down low and indulge in a little spying? I’ll be around to answer comments, though I’m in the UK so there may be a bit of a time delay J

Thanks so much for stopping by,


The Glass Knot is available on Kindle:
           Amazon UK -

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Tomorrow, chance to win my famous WINE BAG ends! Get in on it today!

Celebrating the release of TIE ME DOWN, my latest in KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER BDSM, menage series!
Enter this contest!
What does my famous CERISE DELAND WINE BAG contain?

MUMM Napa Valley WINE TOTE BAG filled with: 
  • wine cooler bag, 
  • Diva dishtowel 
  • fancy wine cork 
  • wine coasters and 
  • box of Wine tasting menu recipe cards
  • a copy of CERISE's print book. 
Everything you need for an evening of wine, men and yummies!
THIS HALLOWEEN CONTEST runs until Nov. 29!

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

About that Cerise DeLand WINE BAG you want to win?

Celebrating the release of TIE ME DOWN, my latest in KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER BDSM, menage series!
Enter this contest!
What does my famous CERISE DELAND WINE BAG contain?

MUMM Napa Valley WINE TOTE BAG filled with: 
  • wine cooler bag, 
  • Diva dishtowel 
  • fancy wine cork 
  • wine coasters and 
  • box of Wine tasting menu recipe cards
  • a copy of CERISE's print book. 
Everything you need for an evening of wine, men and yummies!
THIS HALLOWEEN CONTEST runs until Nov. 29!

Monday, November 19, 2012

Winner in Military Blog Hop!

Winner of a copy of A LONG TIME COMIN' in my Military Blog Hop participation is...
sallans d at yahoo dot com  or DI!!!!

Do return for more great info from fabulous authors!
And me, too!

Friday, November 16, 2012

The Creation of an Alpha Hero by Cindy Jacks and Giveaway

My very first bad boy hero--Captain Brett Logan--was a labor of love. One part Captain Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean, a splash of Captain Malcom Reynolds from Firefly and healthy dose of Marshal Raylan Givens from Justified. Part pirate, part cowboy, all alpha male. 
(And HOT DOG on the cover art!)

In the first book, LANDLOCKED, Brett learns that he does indeed have a tender side, one he can share with Kathryn, his own personal heroine. This was the beginning of the PIRATES AT HEART series which I love writing because it explores an alternate reality in which the United States is no more, the western states have seceded into their own separate republics. Privateers such as Captain Logan supply weapons and munitions for the Resistance who are desperately trying to restore the United States. Kathryn and Brett cross paths after he’s been gravely injured in an enemy raid.

In book two, SMUGGLER’S BLUES, the year is 2017 and all is quiet on the eastern front. Good news for the war-weary Republic of Texas…bad news for weapons smuggling–pirate Captain Brett Logan. 
Logan’s been a surly handful since war’s end—not to mention a rather perfunctory lover—and his wife Kate has had about enough. When an illicit business venture falls in his lap, Logan is eager to get back to outrunning and out-gunning the enemy navy. 
Kate becomes an unwilling participant in Logan’s criminal enterprise, but in his element of excitement and danger, he’s the roguish daredevil she fell in love with. Their passion for each other burns hotter than ever—spurred on by the thrill of the chase. As she learns more about Logan’s wild side, Kate finds herself craving him body and soul as love, sex and adventure finally rid Logan of those pesky smuggler’s blues.
Excerpt:  Copyright © CINDY JACKS, 2012  All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
The familiar ping of rain falling onto a tin roof startled her. Thunder rumbled, louder this time. The storm had begun.
“What’s wrong?” He tilted her head up to look at him. His brow was furrowed, gaze studying hers. The concern in his expression disarmed her. Heavy raindrops beat a tattoo on the tin roof, adding to her fear and exhaustion.
She shook her head. Everything was wrong.
Seeming to read her mind, he nodded. “Stupid question, huh?”
Kathryn nodded and sighed. She wanted nothing more than to collapse into his arms, to fall into a dreamless sleep until this was all over. But it was nowhere near over. This ordeal continued to get more and more complicated.
Leaning her head against his chest, she listened to his strong heartbeat. “Do you—do you really think Dale killed someone because of my mistake?”
“No, not if he didn’t have to. Have some faith in basic human greed.” He jostled her.
The remark struck her as funny. She gave a weak smile. Maybe Brett was right. Or maybe he was trying to make her feel better.
“I really screwed up.”
“I screwed up. You’re only here because I… I should’ve stayed home when you asked me to pass up this deal.”
Home. It was all that she longed for, but the thought only brought on another wave of anxiety. Her chest grew tight and his words from the night before flooded back. He’d stolen the comfort of home from her too. Silent tears dripped down her cheeks.
“But you’re bored with me.” She huffed.
Lightning flashed outside, the wind picked up force. It swept through the poorly constructed shack, the oil lamp light flickering.
“Kate.” He smoothed her hair and pressed her into a hug. “Kate, I didn’t mean that you bore me.”
“Don’t try to sugarcoat it now.”
Tilting her chin up, he cupped her face in his hands. “I’m not. I bore me when I’m at home. This life—” He motioned to the shelter and the storm outside. “This is all I’ve ever known, and I just don’t know how to entertain myself otherwise.”
“I know I’m busy with the boys.” She went on as if she hadn’t heard what he’d said. “And I’ve never been the kind of woman who gets all dolled up—”
He cut her off with a kiss, his hand sliding around her waist.
“Stop.” She turned away.
Tangling a hand in her hair, he exposed her neck and planted a trail of kisses.
“You are—” He kissed down to her cleavage. “The most exciting woman I’ve ever known.”
His growing erection indicated the truth in his words.
“And that’s saying a lot,” she teased, his affection chasing away her self-doubt little by little.
Her pulse and respiration quickened, her sex grew warm and tight. He slipped a hand beneath her shirt, letting it roam over her bare skin as if it had a mind of its own.
“It’s not every woman who’ll assault me with my own wallet.”
Kathryn chuckled, holding back a squeal as he stroked the ticklish spot at the cleft of her ass.
“We can’t do this here.” She tried to extricate herself from his embrace.
“Why not?” Skimming his lips over her jawline, he pressed her closer.
“Because we’re fugitives.”
Oh God, they were fugitives. Strangers in a strange land. Well, it didn’t seem all that foreign to Brett.
Hand to his chest, she stopped his advances. “I didn’t know you could speak Reformlandish.”
Eyes heavy-lidded, he grinned slowly. “I speak a couple Reformlandish dialects. And Spanish. Some Cajun French.”
She arched an eyebrow, shaking her head. “How is it I didn’t know that?”
“Not much cause to use my language skills around the house.”
“What else don’t I know about you?” She leaned forward, inhaling his musky scent and the sweet whiskey on his breath.
His lips were so close that hers tingled, but he didn’t move for a kiss. Not yet. “I couldn’t say. You’ll just have to find out as we go.”
Running her fingertips up his arm, she imagined the landscape beneath his clothes. Since the day they’d met she’d made a road map of his body in her mind. The tattoos and scars, each ripple of muscle, every freckle, the tantalizing trail of hair that led from his bellybutton down to his cock.
Yes, she knew every inch of him. And she knew just how her body would react to his touch, his scent—her pulse pounding, her pussy swollen and wet. It was all delicious, but predictable. Even the routine they’d gotten into, making love right before bed. The song he’d sing her as she fell asleep.
But here, in the one place she never wanted to find herself again, she’d learned something new about her lover. She’d gotten to see the part of him he kept separate from their comfortable life at home. And though some of it shocked her and threw her off balance, there was something intoxicating about the outlaw whose arms wrapped around her.
Heat flared inside her, licking at her cheeks, her nipples, her sex. She surged forward, kissing him hard, her tongue invading his mouth. Caught off guard, he tumbled backward, chuckling, but spurred her on, his hands stripping off her sweater and shirt.
The cool evening air swirled around her breasts, her nipples drawing painfully tight. He leaned forward, capturing a bud between his teeth and rolling his tongue over it.
She gasped, pleasure rippling through her. Since they’d come ashore, he’d been in command of the situation, never once losing his cool. Now she wanted him in command of her body. She longed for him to tease her, overwhelm her and take her. Own her.

And don’t forget to watch out for book three, SAILOR’S KNOT, in which the next generation of Logan’s wreak sexy havoc!

Thanks again to Cerise for hosting me! One random commenter will win an Amazon gift card and free e-copy of Smuggler’s Blues. Good luck and Happy reading.

Cindy Jacks
Fiction for the bad girl in every woman

Thursday, November 15, 2012

LAST DAY for Military BLOG HOP! And ROPE ME IN today in print!

This is the last day for Military Blog Hop:
  • DO leave a comment here to be entered to win an e-book copy of A LONG TIME COMIN' from me. This is a prize for one lucky person who enters (see link below) and will be awarded to anyone internationally! 
  • Blog closes Nov. 15, today!
  • Happy Veterans Day!
  • Go here for more:

TODAY, ROPE ME IN, the first in my KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER menage/BDSM western series at EC is out today in print!
What's it about?

In Bravado, Texas, the men are good and plenty…and lonely.

Not inclined to remain horny bachelors, the three MacRae brothers devise a plan to find one fine woman and get the good lovin’ they deserve. One gander at the new gal in town, charming Cara Ford, and the cowboys decide to do some old-fashioned courting. Then they’ll offer her a thoroughly modern deal—all three of them, just for luscious, lovely her.

Cara has returned to Bravado to rebuild her life after cutting the cord to her self-centered husband. One man was a pain. Why would she want to tie herself to three ranchers known for their wildcattin’, no matter how sexy?

Undeterred, Jed, Harry and Will rope her into their daily lives, sweet-talk her into sharing their torrid nights, and set out to convince her that three hard-lovin’ men in bed is better than one.
And you need to read the second in the series, don't you?
TIE ME DOWN stars a shibari master.
What is a shibari master?
An expert in artful rope bondage, derived from the Japanese samurai who had to detain their enemies and had no prisons.
Look at this cover of Case Turner and Samantha Marlowe!

Friday, November 9, 2012

Special Ops: A few facts you may not know! MILITARY BLOG HOP begins!

Researching Delta Force for A LONG TIME COMIN' and my upcoming release about a SEAL team member, CONQUERING ZEUS (with the Sassy 7), I learned quite a few interesting facts:

  • Special Ops which includes Delta Force, SEALs, and many other specialized units of the military are very highly trained personnel, many of them in the service for years before getting the opportunity to apply for training in one of these schools.
  • SEALs and Delta Force operatives undergo such rigorous training that only a fraction of those who apply and enter the schools graduate.
  • SEALs and Delta Force operations are highly classified, which is why many objected to the new book out by a former SEAL describing the operation to get Bin Laden.
  • In fact, the operations are so secret that the men in these units rarely if ever acknowledge to anyone that they belong to these elite corps.
  • The budgets for these units are redacted, meaning few know the real cost of their operations.
  • SEALs and Delta Force take their oaths to the President of the United States. Therefore, this is the person/entity to which they owe their allegiance.
  • DO leave a comment here AND your email address in the comment to be entered to win a copy of A LONG TIME COMIN'
  • Blog closes Nov. 15.
  • Happy Veterans Day!
  • Go here for more:

Thursday, November 8, 2012

MILITARY BLOG HOP anyone? With prizes!

MILITARY BLOG HOP anyone? With prizes!
Yes, I am among those doing this wonderful hop!
Starts tomorrow at:

Do come back here to enter, then go on to the others!
Great fun...and quite a bit about the military, too!
I will give away a copy of my DELTA FORCE story, A LONG TIME COMIN'.
Do return!

Monday, November 5, 2012

GOT USA election nerves? RELAX with FRAN LEE's newest!

   What Fran Jamison and Jack Gerrard have in common could be balanced on the head of a pin. Jack screwed up his chances with the BBW years ago when he allowed his friends to influence his choices. And Fran totally lost her chance with the hot campus jock by openly spurning his attempt to apologize.

   Fran has never been to any of the reunions, but now a friend needs her, so this time she hasn’t been able to shimmy out of it. What she doesn’t expect in a million years is to find herself making hot love with Jack Gerrard on the hood of a parked car…in the airport parking ramp!

   Jack lost her once. But if she thinks she’s getting away this time, she’s dead wrong.


Hello to all of Gracie’s Girls, class of 2002. Once again, thanks to all of you for the flowers and phone calls after my aunt Gracie’s passing last winter. You all meant so much to her, and to me.
As I’m sure you all know, our ten-year college reunion is coming up this summer. Since I now have Aunt Gracie’s big rambling house all to myself, I’d like to extend an invitation. If any of you are coming back for the reunion, you’re more than welcome to stay here, in your old rooms. Gracie quit taking in college students several years back, so there’s no one here but me and I’d love to have some company while I’m getting the house ready to put on the market. So what do you say? One last time as roommates? It would be great to see all of you again.
     She hadn’t planned to attend, at least not until she’d received Karen’s guilt-inspiring email. Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to hit the delete key and pretend the email hadn’t arrived, but she just couldn’t do that. Karen was having financial problems and might have to sell the historic but dilapidated old Victorian house they had all shared in college.
     She shouldn’t feel so gun-shy, but even after all these years it would be hard for her to go back and see all her old pals with the memories of her college years slamming hard into her refurbished self-image. A self-image that had taken her seven long years of analysis and hard work to create.
     Fran sighed and rubbed her temples, shoving her reading glasses up onto her sleep-tousled head. She’d received the formal reunion invitation last week but had tossed it without even looking at it. No use reliving the whole college scene just to see how everyone else looked… See how many of her friends had kids… How they had all changed over the ten years since she’d last seen them. She certainly didn’t feel like listening to them telling stories about new babies and favorite pets and how they’d met their husbands.
     All the things Fran had excluded from her life in favor of monetary success and “being her own woman”.
Fran was far more realistic now. She refused to kid herself. She had never found the man of her dreams and settled down to raise a family, mainly because it had taken her seven years to get past her own demented mental image of herself. And now that she finally recognized her own worth and had learned to love herself as she was, she was way past the wild need to flaunt her wares and try to trap some unwary male. Besides, most men in her age bracket were already married. Or divorced and on the rebound. Or just looking for a one-night stand. So far, that had never quite appealed, no matter how good-looking the man in question happened to be.
    Men were not a necessity in life. Besides…she’d royally screwed up, long ago, with the only man she’d ever really wanted any sort of relationship with.
   She ran her fingers through her wild curls and pressed her thumbs against the bridge of her nose. Back then she’d been so sure that the tentative advances he’d made were simply another way for the jock community at WIU to have a laugh-fest at her expense. She’d reacted defensively, tearing his ego into tiny strips. And then he’d basically left her alone. Damn…
   Only years later, after many long sessions with her uber-patient therapist, had it flashed with astonishing clarity into her mind. Jack Gerrard—her dream man—had actually tried to ask her out on a date. And she had gone off on the man as if he’d just asked her to jump naked into an anthill.
   She gave a sigh of resignation. The worst part of it was that she’d always had the most pathetic crush on the man—most girls had crushes on the hot, sexy hero of the WIU gridiron.
   Even in high school, Gerrard had always been in the company of cheerleaders and prom queens and the most popular girls. They hung all over him like bees around a honey pot. One look from those riveting blue eyes could make any girl drop her panties with a scream of delight. But Jack had ignored them most of the time, keeping up excellent grades so he could play varsity football. She supposed that was the true attraction.
   Sure. There she went, lying to herself again. She’d been hot for his ripped body, just like all the other girls. But it had gone deeper than that with her.
   He had offered her some modicum of friendship, and good-looking guys did not want to be pals with Fran Jamison. So when that friendship was withdrawn without explanation or reason, it had torn her up inside.

Friday, November 2, 2012

J.D. Faver brings us BAD VIBES!

Hi Cerise! Thanks so much for inviting me to be your guest today. I was going to share a little about writing a series. My romantic thriller series, The Edge of Texas, is set along the Texas coast just 25 miles north of the Mexican border, so there is a beautiful semi-tropical setting to begin with. Then I added some flawed characters, each carrying around a load of backstory. Finally, I paint on a coat of trouble, and if the characters seem to be getting a handle on it, I drop a disaster on them.   
The hero of the first book, BAD MEDICINE, is Raphael Solis, the sheriff. In this book, he is reunited with Chloe, his high school sweetheart who fled town after his mother and sister falsely accused her of theft and caused her to lose her scholarship. To say that she has a big chip on her shoulder would be an understatement. I put them through hell together in this first volume.

BAD MEDICINE is followed by BAD KARMA, and then BAD VIBES, my newest release, picks right afterward. This is the blurb for BAD VIBES: Darla (one of Raphael’s deputies) arrests a vagrant, hanging around the marina, but after he’s cleaned up, she discovers a hunky, hard-body with a smoldering gaze hidden beneath the filthy rags. He turns out to be a federal agent working undercover. He’s after a gang of human traffickers using the Intracoastal Waterway to bring sex slaves into the United States from Mexico. Rafael assigns Darla as liaison officer to work with the feds, bringing her face-to-face with the “Iceman”, Mike Burke, the undercover agent she arrested. Darla, Mike and his partner tear up and down the Intracoastal Waterway in pursuit of the human traffickers, but when two local women disappear, the search becomes personal.
As an author, I always have a feeling of loss when I’m writing the last chapter of a book, because I’m saying goodbye to those characters. But in a series, you’re just continuing the saga. The short excerpt I’m sharing today is from BAD VIBES, but this scene is in Raphael’s point of view. He has been searching for his best friend’s missing wife, so he’s carrying around a huge burden when he goes to his own residence late that night.  

Rafael stepped into the cool darkness of his tenth-floor beach front condo. The air-conditioning rushed out to embrace him.
He closed and locked the door and started the involved process of removing his damp, wrinkled uniform. He first disarmed himself and secured his sidearm in a lock box he kept close to the door, now that he was a responsible parent. He divested himself of handcuffs, badge and credentials before removing his boots and starting to unbutton his shirt.
He glanced in on Lacy and Daniel, asleep in what had been a guest room in his bachelor days. He stood over them, each in turn, silently tucking the coverlet around Lacy. Here, with his children, he was always able to regain his sense of values and purpose; no matter what the real world had robbed him of on any particular day.
Tiptoeing out, he left the door ajar, knowing Chloe would be waking whenever Daniel cried out for his next feeding.
Rafael slipped silently into the master bedroom, listening to Chloe’s measured breathing as he removed his clothes and soundlessly stepped into their bathroom. He felt too dirty to climb into the same bed with his wife.
He deposited his clothes in the hamper and turned on the shower. He brushed his teeth and stroked his hand over his day’s growth of beard. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror, hearing Chloe’s voice address him as her favorite werewolf.
Stepping into the water, he inhaled the steamy spray. The warm rain shower made him feel whole again. He washed his hair and body and turned off the water. Rubbing his eyes with his fists, he opened them to see Chloe holding a towel for him.
“Thanks,” he said, stepping out. “Sorry that I woke you.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. I love you, you know?”
He smiled, reaching for the towel. “I know. I love you more.”
“Impossible.” She ran her hands over his damp chest.
Rafael slipped the tiny straps off her shoulders, letting the short gown fall beside the towel. “I swear, baby, you could raise the dead.”
Her soft gurgle of pleasure was drowned in his kiss as he pressed her soft, supple body against his.
Rafael lifted her and carried her to their bed. He placed her in the middle and slid in beside her. As he stroked his fingers from her cheek, over her breast and down to her hip, his fatigue evaporated.
A clutch at his heart reminded him that he’d almost lost her twice within the last year. First, at the hands of an old childhood foe, the heir apparent to a local crime family and later, when she’d gone into labor and happened to arrive at the Emergency Room at the same time as a crazed stalker was closing in on his victim.
He swallowed hard and gathered her closer. “Don’t ever take any chances, Chloe. Promise me that you’ll always think before you act.”
Her arms wound around him. “I never try to get in the way of nut cases. It was just my karma.”
“Get a new karma,” he growled.
The order of this series is                                                                                                                                                          
(1) BAD MEDICINE                                                                                                                                                                             
(2) BAD KARMA                                                                                                                                                                 
(3) BAD VIBES                                                                                                                                                                      
Visit J.D. Faver’s website:                                                                                                                follow on Twitter & Facebook
I hope everyone has a chance to visit South Padre Island and the Lower Rio Grande Valley. In the meantime, you can visit through my series and keep up with the happenings. My goal is to entertain…and keep you up nights. ;-) *hugs*