Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Desiree Holt rocks in the door here with her #AFTERSHOCK out 3/28!

I spent a lot of years in the music business but it wasn’t until recently that I drew on those experiences for my writing. Downstroke and Having It All kicked it off. Then I met the sexiest bass player, Jackie Joyride, who became the inspiration for, what else, Joy Ride, a story of love that could not be denied, despite a million obstacles.
Of course you, my readers (and I thank you for this) wanted the stories about the rest of the band and so Sydney and Rick’s love story was born in my brain. It’s about an industry that demands almost more than it gives. That makes it difficult to have a real personal life. That doesn’t always allow for feelings and that is rife with jealousy.
But it’s also the story of a band with the electricity of the Lightnin’ for which it is named. And it’s the story of two people, a hot rock star and a feisty promotions agent, who collide like an explosion of fireworks. What do you get? #Aftershock.

You can follow Syd and Rick’s story from Decadent Publishing beginning March 28. And Marc and Emma from Joy Ride  play an integral part in what happens. So come on along.

She was still buzzed from the evening when she checked into the hotel. Lightnin’ happened to be checking in at the same time and their excitement was palpable. Even Danny and Garrett came over and gave her a hug. They all rode up in the elevator together, the guys still jazzed, laughing and bumping fists. Except for Rick, who was strangely silent.
They all got off at the same floor she did and headed to their rooms. She was shocked to discover that Rick’s room turned out to be right next to hers. She couldn’t help sliding a glance at him and was stunned to see him watching her, a ravenous look in his eyes. There was no mistaking the desire in his gaze. Did he want her to join him? Or should she ask him if he wanted to come into her room? What was the protocol here?
Unsettled, she fumbled with the keycard at her door, dropping it in her nervous haste to get inside her room. She wasn’t aware he had moved until suddenly he was beside her, taking the card from her fingers. He slid it into the slot and when the lock light turned green he pushed the door open.
“Here you go.” He held the door back with his body, waiting for her to enter the room.
“Th-Thank you.”
She moved past him, rolling her suitcase into the room and turned to him. Before she had time to say anything he grabbed her arms, turned her to face him and pressed her against the door.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” His voice was heavy with a combination of emotion and desire. “I think tonight calls for a celebration, don’t you?”
Speech deserted her and all she could do was nod. She wanted him, this man who had exploded into her life. More than wanted. She was hungry for him, a passion that never seemed to leave her. Reaching up her hands she cupped the roughness of his late night beard, loving the scratchy feel of it.
She tilted her face up just the least little bit to accommodate him and his mouth came down on hers. The minute their lips met heat surged through her as if someone had lit a match to her blood. She clutched at his shoulders to steady herself, knowing she should break away even as her body cried for more. She was drowning in him, his heat and scent invading her. And all she could think was more, more, more.
 * * * * * * *
Known the world over as The Oldest Living Erotica Author, Desiree Holt proves every day that she is more than the sum of her years and more than the grandmother who plays with Barbie and Ken dolls: She is The Hardest Working Erotica Author, producing one novel or more each month and receiving rave reviews.
She is twice a finalist for an EPIC E-Book Award, a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award for best BDSM book of the year, winner of the Holt Medallion, multiple winner of the Whipped Cream Book of the Week Award and is published by five different houses. She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today, The Wall Street Journal, The London Daily Mail and numerous other national and international publications.

“Get out the ice water and fan…Desiree Holt delivers smoking hot alpha heroes and red hot romances.” Lea Franczak, USA Today Happy Ever After blog

Learn more about her and read her novels here:
www.facebook.com/desireeholtauthor
Twitter @desireeholt
Pinterest: desiree02holt

Also on LinkedIn and Google+

Monday, March 24, 2014

In DO HIM RIGHT Rodeo Star Needs Help from Gal who Done Him Wrong!

Kissing his booboo won’t make it all better. But restoring his credibility and helping him build a new career might just do the trick. Shana Carpenter hustles to make Chet Stapleton king of the rodeo! Cerise DeLand shows a good girl how to do that in DO HIM RIGHT, her newest, out from EC Friday March 28. 
Blurb:
 Shana Carpenter ruined rodeo champion Chet Stapleton years ago with hastily written words. Now a PR pro, she's engineered a plan to make amends. She'll successfully promote his rodeo, soothe her conscience and leave. Trouble is, she can't keep her hands off the smooth talker or call a halt to their smokin'-hot sex.
     Chet takes one glance at Shana and develops an itch to put his boots under her bed...permanently. He's won awards for taming willful fillies so he can't understand why he can't break Shana's stubborn refusal to open up to him.
The closer Shana gets to Chet, the more she wants to stay in his life and his bed. But to do that, she'll have to tell him everything—and risk his rejection. One thing is certain, if Shana doesn't put the past to rest, she'll never be able to grab the future—or the cowboy she wants most.

Excerpt: Copyright Cerise DeLand 2014, All rights reserved.
Scene takes place in Chet’s rodeo office in southwest Texas on a sweltering August morning.
“Miz Carpenter? Ma’am?” Chet Stapleton raised his voice, but he definitely sounded strained, as if he were strangling.
“Hmm?” She lifted her chin and shook back her shoulder-length, platinum curls.
He swallowed, loudly. “What’ll it be? Water? Soda?” He raised a hand to buzz his assistant on the intercom. “We have coffee too, if that’s your poison.”
“No.” You are. My fixation. Ever since, I wrote that article about you in the sports section of the Dallas paper four years ago. Ever since I printed a retraction, resigned for my foolishness and began to plan how I’d make more amends. Now I’m going even nuttier, contemplating how I can take you into my bed and kiss the hurt away.
She squeezed her labia together and felt a trickle of perspiration wend its way between her breasts.
“Water. Cool water. Please.”
“Two waters, Reata,” he told his assistant as he squinted at Shana and looked for all the world like a guy who was trying to concentrate.
Shana would have laughed, but the lure of him had her wiggling forward in her chair to try to massage her pulsing cunt. Four years ago she had been frightened by her response to his languid cowboy sexuality. She’d been young, twenty-two, in her first job at a newspaper and so naïve, both professionally and sexually. Since she’d ruined Chet, she’d corrected both lacks. Now she thoroughly examined whatever she did before she opened her mouth or typed one word. To complement that, she also knew what she liked in men. Honest, forthright, funny. Still no man yet had rung her bells more than a few times. Hunky, jovial Chet Stapleton could definitely compete.
The man was drool worthy. With his bronzed skin, that sun-kissed shock of yellow-gold hair hanging over his forehead, he was the epitome of testosterone. His rock-hewn features with generous lips and a mellow bass voice melted her into a puddle of foolish desire. No past lover could compare . Sometimes when she felt really low and foolish, she put down this lack in her life to a penance for doing him wrong and declaring he was a hothead with the judges.
Once more, regret flooded her, and she reprimanded herself. She was here to use her brains to heal the wounds she’d made. She had not come here to use her body to confuse the issue. She had to stop thinking like a horny lunatic.
Stifling a moan, she bent and dug through her briefcase for her copy of the PR proposal. All thumbs, she couldn’t find the thing.
“Problems?”
His tone was husky. Dark and suggestive. She looked up to see Chet devouring her with those wide green eyes, his look hypnotic, his mouth parting. A vision of him using that mouth to tantalize her sensitive nipples made her groan.
“Chair not comfortable?” he asked, suddenly solicitous.
“Oh. No. No, no. I’m fine. Chair’s fine.” Brain’s dead, but my pussy’s on fire.
“Here’s your water,” he said, sounding relieved when his assistant walked in, handed both to him then shut the door behind her.
He sprang up to give Shana one of the bottles. “Would you like a glass? Ice?”
“No. Thanks.” Shana stuck out her hand. “Water’s good. No glass.”
But when he reached out to give it to her, her fingers touched his, and this time, the shock was electric. Riveting.
She yelped.
He clamped her hand to his rock-hard chest and rubbed her fingers. “Christ, sorry. You okay?”
“Sure.” She stared up at him, automatically reaching out to caress her own burning hand and, in the process, his ribs too. “Are you hurt?”
“Feels like nothing I’ve ever known before.” He put his other hand on top of hers and stroked her from fingertips to forearm as if she were a cat in heat.
“This has never happened to me before either.” I’ve never met a man I wanted within minutes of meeting him. I’m too cerebral, my friend Liz says. Too careful. But you I want soon.
His voice was a rasp when he drew her up. “Let me make it up to you.”
Five Regencies Release in Next 3 Weeks!
Then, hold on to your hat, because Cerise has 5 Regencies on the shelves in the next 3 weeks!
Yes, FIVE.
First, a box set of 4 spicy Regencies about a family that endures a curse upon those who dare to love. Doomed to failure, four brothers in the Stanhope family fall for wonderful women…and fear the end of their love affairs because of a tragic curse.
Still, lured by the women they adore, they cannot turn them away.
Four men, four brides, four marriages fight the test of The Stanhope ChallengeA Regency Quartet!



Then in her new series of Regency Romps, Cerise debuts Lady Varney’s Risqué Business.
Oh, yes, Lady Varney runs a very risqué business, arranging “interviews” for marriageable young toffs to meet ladies acceptable to their tastes…and their proclivities.  But when newly minted Earl Justin Belmont appears in her drawing room, wishing to hire her services for that precise reason, she balks.

How can she possibly find Justin the best bride when her heart says it should be she…and he demands she be among those he “interviews”?

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

A #Cowboy for Delilah, new #western by Sabrina York! YUM!

The last thing this independent, high-powered lawyer wants is a cowboy in her life, but one steamy kiss from a sexy rancher burns her resolve to a crisp
  
What a disaster. Delilah glared at her rental car in helpless frustration. She hated the feeling. She was hardly a frail, fragile woman. She prided herself on the fact that she was self-sufficient and didn’t need anyone. Counting on others was, after all, a recipe for disappointment.
Hard, cold experience had taught her that.
Yet here she was. In the boondocks. In six-inch heels. With a flat tire.
Oh, she could change a fricking tire. Hell, she could rip out and refurbish a transmission. But the idiots at the wilderness rental car company hadn’t bothered to put a jack in the trunk. She was resourceful…but not that resourceful.  Even if she could channel her MacGyveresque tendencies, there was nothing out on this barren plain she could use to lever her car up high enough to do the job.
So here she stood by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, in six-inch heels and without cell phone service—the epitome of a helpless woman. All she needed was slasher music and she could be the star of a horror flick.
A plume of dust blossomed on the horizon and her mood lifted. Oh, thank god. Someone was coming. No one had passed in the two hours since the blowout.
Hopefully, it wasn’t a slasher.
The plume grew. A beat-up pickup topped one rise, and then the next. The truck rolled to a stop in front of her crippled Honda.
Oh. Lovely. Her savior had a gun rack.
Delilah covered her mouth and nose as the cloud of dust caught up with the truck and engulfed her. Angie’s birthday party had better be worth all this trouble.
She plastered a smile on her face and turned to greet the Good Samaritan. At least, she hoped he was a Good Samaritan. She was quite alone on this deserted stretch of road and—
Oh god.
He unfolded himself from the cab of his truck, and her breath wedged in her throat. He was enormous. And, judging from his ratty chambray shirt, shit-kicker boots and Stetson, he was a cowboy.
She hated cowboys. Selfish, misogynistic sons of bitches. Her fake smile threatened to become a very real grimace.
He stepped closer through the lingering cloud of dust, and Delilah’s heart ker-chunked. He was gorgeous. Not only was he tall—which she really liked in a man—he was big. Broad and brawny and muscular. His face was a dream from his heavily lashed brown eyes to the intriguing dent on his chin. She had to remind herself why cowboys and city girls didn’t mix, but even that couldn’t keep her from ogling his forearms. His sleeves were rolled up, just enough to give her a glimpse of defined veins and a sprinkling of dark hair. She loved veiny forearms.
Damn. Why couldn’t he have been something other than a cowboy? Or, if he had to be a cowboy, why couldn’t he have been an old one…with Dunlap syndrome—where his belly done lapped over his belt?
“Howdy.” His voice was deep and smoky.
Delilah couldn’t appreciate the sultry timbre. Of all greetings in the universe, Howdy was her least favorite.
“Having some trouble?” He whipped off his Stetson to wipe his brow and thick black curls tumbled out.
Curls. Not fair. Why couldn’t he be bald?
Delilah cleared her throat. “Flat tire.”
He glanced at her car. A dimple exploded on his cheek.
Fuck.
Dimples were her kryptonite.
“Would you like me to change it for you? You do have a spare?”
Yeah. There it was. Sure he was superhot, gorgeous and sexy as hell. But his patronizing tone squelched any simmering temptation she might have been harboring.
That’s how it was with cowboys, wasn’t it? They saw all women as helpless, idiot creatures stumbling around in six-inch heels, batting their lashes and flashing their boobs and simpering.
Delilah was not a simperer. She was a fuck-you, take-no-prisoners, hard-core lawyer, who could take care of herself just fine.
But she did have a flat. And no jack. She kinda needed his help.
So she batted her lashes. “Um. I think there’s a tire thingy in the…what do you call it? Trunk?” She affected a Southern drawl and thrust out her boobage, just for good measure.
It annoyed her that he bought her act. And it kind of didn’t. The bedazzled look in his eyes was a salve to her ego. After Trevor and all. It was nice to know she could still appeal to a man. Even a redneck cowboy.
He loped over to her car—yes, loped. She tried not to stare at his ass but his jeans were tight. It was a challenge to look elsewhere. He bent to search the trunk—again, a mighty fine ass—and stood, tipping back his Stetson. His profile, against the bird’s-egg-blue backdrop of the sky, stole her breath.
“There’s no jack.”
“No what?”
He sighed and headed for his truck, pulling out an impressively fancy jack. “This,” he said, “is a jack. You use it to lift the carriage up high enough to change the tire.”
It was so sweet the way he made his voice all slow and pedantic. You know, so she could understand. Idiot woman that she was.
“Gosh. You’re smart.” She probably didn’t need to gush quite that much, but hell, she hated condescending men. Especially cowboys. But she might as well have fun with this.
He knelt and fitted the jack and started cranking. His muscles bunched, forearms bulging with each pump.
Delilah sighed, and told herself it was only a pretend sigh, but her gaze was riveted to the sight. “You are such a big, strong man.”
He flashed a grin at her.
Yeah. Of course he did. Men loved to be told how big and strong they were. She completely ignored the dimples erupting all over his bristled cheek. Did he never shave? “How can I ever repay you?”
He stilled. The glint in his eye was horrifying. Crap. Had she gone too far with her helpless female shtick? She was all alone. On a deserted highway. With an enormous Neanderthal cowboy.
When he tipped his head to the side, her trepidation vanished. He looked more like a mischievous boy than a mad rapist-slasher. “How about a kiss?”
Delilah blinked. “A…what?”
“A kiss. Just a little one.”
Her brain fogged over. And it wasn’t horror at the prospect of a strange man demanding a kiss on the side of a deserted road that muddied the waters. It was pure exhilaration at the thought of his mouth devouring hers, those arms wrapping around her, that massive chest, warm and hard as he yanked her close…
Aw hell.
Why was she always attracted to the wrong guys? She wanted a man who liked opera and dreamed of traveling to Italy. Not a guy who listened to Country and Western music, spat chew into a bean can, and whose dream of an exciting evening was a night at the local bar playing pool.
“What do you say, ma’am? One kiss, in exchange for my…services?” When she hesitated, he repeated, “A little one.”
Why she nodded, she had no clue.
Well, she knew why she nodded—because she was incapable of speech.
Why she agreed was the mystery.
Then again, he was superhot. She ached to know how he tasted…and it wasn’t as though they would ever see each other again. Besides, if things got out of hand, she had mace. And she knew how to use it.
At her assent, he sprang into action. It was astounding how quickly he changed that tire. He tossed the flat into the trunk, returned his jack to his truck and wiped his hands.
“All done.”
Her heart skittered as he stepped closer.
“Time for payment.”  

PREORDER NOW! (Available March 18)



 “Mrs. Morgan and the Marshal” by Emma Jay A dalliance with the sexy town marshal makes a woman rancher question which she wants most, her independence or him

“Remember” by Mia Hopkins A jilted bride saddles up with the blazing-hot cowboy stripper hired for her cancelled bachelorette party

“Cowboy Downtime” by Cheyenne Blue Passion ignites at a polocrosse game in the Australian outback—she plays attack, he plays defense, and their sexy wager decides the winner

“Coming Home” by Megan Mitcham A busted-up rodeo champion finds the squirt he tormented in youth transformed into a fiery woman challenging him to become the man she deserves

“Her Captured Cowboy” by Layla Chase A lonely woman, ostracized by Colorado townspeople after years in Indian captivity, takes what she needs from a wandering cowboy

“Back Stage Pass” by Cynthia D’Alba A sexy night with a hired escort, who looks exactly like a woman’s favorite country singer, leaves her with a back stage pass and a lot of burning questions

“Unfinished Business” by Cat Johnson A class reunion gives one woman a second chance with a sultry cowboy from her past

“At the Mercy of the Cowboy” by Amber Lin A new farmhand finds rough living and an even rougher cowboy to soothe away her pain

“Cowboy Adonis” by Michael Bracken When a naked cowboy rises from a stock pond, a nature photographer’s assignment gets personal

“Denim and Lace” by Robie Madison One woman in a pair of rhinestone heels plus two sexy cowboys equals a highly combustible combination

“One Track Cowboy” by Delilah Devlin After tracking two lost hikers, a park ranger and a local rancher lose themselves to a wild passion

“Skin Deep” by Randi Alexander A pretty city girl and a scarred country cowboy discover love waits when you’re ready to look beneath the surface

“Drop Two Tears in a Bucket” by Shoshanna Evers Alone on her Montana cattle ranch after her husband divorces her, a woman finds satisfaction in the arms of the one cowboy she can’t resist

“A Cowboy for Delilah” by Sabrina York The last thing this independent, high-powered lawyer wants is a cowboy in her life, but one steamy kiss from a sexy rancher burns her resolve to a crisp

“Shall We Dance?” by Myla Jackson When a lonely woman gives private dance lessons to a shy, sexy cowboy, she stumbles on passion worth fighting for

WANT MORE COWBOYS?
Check out my Pintrest Page dedicated to these steamy hunks!

About Sabrina York
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York is the award winning author of over 20 hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy erotic romance to scorching BDSM. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebook or on Pintrest. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazon or wherever e-books are sold. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/ And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!

Books by Sabrina York
Brigand (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave) —Coming soon
Heart of Ash: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary)

CURRENT PROMOS
Enter to win a signed print copy of scorching Regency romance, Dark Fancy on Goodreads! https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17409083-dark-fancy

FOLLOW SABRINA
Like my Facebook Author Page https://www.facebook.com/SabrinaYorkBooks
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Check out my Barnes & Noble Author page: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/sabrina-york

Monday, March 17, 2014

She done him wrong, so she'll #DoHimRight and kiss his booboo better! Cerise DeLand's new release coming 3/28

     Nothing worse than a woman who's done a man wrong...and wants to kiss his booboo all better!
     Maybe kiss a few other things he's got, too.
     Well, I have a story for you that is just like that. DO HIM RIGHT about a woman who wrote a rather misinformed bit of info about a famous rodeo performer...and ruined his career.
     Now, she's out to do him right...and correct the error in judgement she made.
     No cover, yet from EC but madly panting in wait.
Will post as soon as I can!
     Shana ruined rodeo champion Chet Stapleton years ago with hastily written words. Now a PR pro, she's engineered a plan to make amends. She'll successfully promote his rodeo, soothe her conscience and leave. Trouble is, she can't keep her hands off the smooth talker or call a halt to their smokin'-hot sex.
     Chet takes one glance at Shana and develops an itch to put his boots under her bed...permanently. He's won awards for taming willful fillies so he can't understand why he can't break Shana's stubborn refusal to open up to him.
     The closer Shana gets to Chet, the more she wants to stay in his life and his bed. But to do that, she'll have to tell him everything—and risk his rejection. One thing is certain, if Shana doesn't put the past to rest, she'll never be able to grab the future—or the cowboy she wants most.