Blog Tour: Love Under Two Outcasts by Cara Covington

Girl, that coat rules!

Please welcome Cara Covington, author of Love Under Two Outcasts!


Cara will be awarding a $25 Bookstrand giftcard to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter during the tour, and a $10 Amazon or Barnes/Noble giftcard to a randomly drawn host.

Click here to win the $25 Bookstrand gift card- a Rafflecopter giveaway.

1. Tell us a little about yourself; your hometown, your age, anything cool!

I’m from a rural community in southern Ontario, Canada called Flamborough. I turned 60 on my last birthday. I’ve been married for 42 years to my High School sweetheart. We’re parents, grandparents of 6, and great-grandparents of 2. Cool? I think the fact that I had to retire from work when I had open heart surgery at the age of 48, and then went on to live my dream of becoming a published author is as cool as it gets. Some days, I have to pinch myself! 

2. How did you know you wanted to write?

I began to write when I was around 8 or 9. Picking up a pen was just something that came naturally to me. My father passed away when I was 7 and it wasn’t until much later that I learned that he, when he’d been younger, had always, always had a pad of paper and a pencil in his pocket, as he was a writer, too. In fact, I discovered not that many years ago, that my brother had a few of his poems and stories tucked away. So I guess you could say that for me, writing is in the blood.

3. What inspires you to write on those inevitable rough days?

I remind myself, on those rare days when I don’t feel like writing but I know I must, that there are readers waiting to read my next book. Just lately, I only have to turn my head to the left to see a picture—my street team sent me an enormous picture frame with their photos pasted inside it. All those beautiful smiling women who treasure my books! Can you imagine it? That’s reason enough for any writer to get back to work.

4. Tell me some of your current projects- Your works in progress, ideas, or any crazy, off the wall things.

 The Lusty Texas series began with two historical novels, set in Texas in the 1880s. The series then jumped to contemporary times, as the heroes and heroines, descendants of the characters in the historical novels, clamored to have their stories told. Some people would say that having a series that already expands beyond 24 books is crazy! My December 2014 release, Love Under Two Outcasts was book 24 in the series; the next one, A Very Lusty New Year, released January 23rd was the 25th book in the series. And as I am writing this in January, I can tell you that I am working on Love Under Two Extroverts, book 26, and I expect a late March release date for it.

5. What would you like people to know about your work?

I write erotic romantic fiction. Some, under my pen name Morgan Ashbury, but lately, as Cara Covington. My stories are entertainment, mostly—a place for readers to escape from their every day trials and tribulations. A place they can visit and bask in my ideal of small town life. Where your neighbors care about you, and where you soon find that you belong.Within the pages of a Lusty, Texas book, you may find a few hugs for your heart – that was the way one reader described my stories, and nothing has ever touched me as deeply as that.

6. This is a chance to meander or talk in greater depth if you like. Here you can talk about what hobbies you pursue, how you refresh your well of ideas, what you would recommend to other writers.

I’m afraid I don’t have any exciting hobbies; I’m limited, mobility-wise, but my husband and I have traveled a great deal throughout North America over the last few years. We’ve been on several cruises, as well as having visited some vastly different cities from New York to Dallas, Chicago to New Orleans, to Anaheim and Orlando and Daytona Beach.

I love to read, of course, and some of my favorite authors are also friends: Heather Rainier, D. B. Reynolds, Emma Wildes, and Kelley Armstrong to name a few. I also love to read Nora Roberts/J D Robb, Julie Garwood, Catherine Coulter, Barbara Delinsky and Linda Howard. I have 2 surviving children, 6 surviving grand-children and 2 great-grandchildren. Life in the Ashbury household can be very hectic. We have a cat who adopted us and has graciously allowed us to stay in the house, and a Morky dog who is most definitely a spoiled little fur baby.

My advice to my fellow authors: if you are not yet published, do not quit. If you want it bad enough, keep working at it and do not quit. Just write and write and write some more. Believe in yourself; make your craft excellent; and you will get published. If you are published, I have a word of advice for you, too—because I’m 60, you see, and feel entitled to give a bit of that prickly commodity now and again.

Please, remember that once you put it out there on the web, it is there, forever. So try to remember that whatever you do, your readers are watching you. Be the best you that you can be.

And now, Love Under Two Outcasts!

Charlotta Carmichael is mostly not ashamed of the way she paid for her college degree. Mostly. As an exotic dancer at a gentlemen’s club, she earned enough to get her degree in psychology. But sometimes the scorn she’s suffered in the past comes back to haunt her. She fears a similar reaction from Jesse and Barry Benedict. Will they still think she’s good enough for them if she tells them the truth?

Jesse and Barry know all about past mistakes and regret. Feeling like outcasts, they left their Montana home and headed to Lusty, hoping to make a new start. Once they understand that Charlotta is their soul mate, they confess their sins of the past—because they want their relationship to have a solid foundation.

As Jesse and Barry rush to save Charlotta from a stalker, they all soon learn that moving on is easier said than done—and requires a bigger leap of faith than they’d ever imagined.

Appetite whetted? Here's a teaser.

The sound of high heels on the marble floor echoed in the reception area. Jesse realized belatedly the feminine footsteps were coming their way.

“Gentlemen, I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

Jesse knew the voice from the two telephone conversations he’d had with the doctor. He looked up—and had the surreal sensation that in that instant, with that simple tilt of his head, his entire life had just changed. One quick glance over at Barry, and he knew his twin was experiencing his own personal epiphany.

Jesse got to his feet, his gaze taking in her piled high blonde hair, soft grey eyes, and the way her beige silk blouse and trim brown skirt displayed her made-for-sin body.

He met her gaze, pleased when he read in hers that he and his brother weren’t the only ones to get gob smacked with a flood of pheromones.

She’d extended her hand and Jesse wasted no time in clasping it in his. The zing of electricity shot straight to his groin, and it took supreme will to keep his wood from tenting his jeans.

“I’m Jesse. And you have no need to apologize, ma’am. We’re here at your service.” He saw the double entendre hit its mark and liked the humor he read in her eyes.

And then he appreciated her ability to give as well as she got, when she said, “Well in that case, please follow me to someplace a little more private.”

 

Website:http://www.morganashbury.com

Morgan’s books at Siren-Bookstrand:

http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury

Cara’s Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Cara-Covington/616302148428229

The Bohemian Life

Darla's sweet and smart short story

Darla Luke, a wr.iter of formidable insight, told me that I had a Bohemian life.

And I went, "Me?? No way." After all, a bohemian travels the world, dyes her hair crazy colors, has an eclectic and varied family of choice, and wears funky, sassy clothes.

 

 

Funky color green

Talk about a moment of clarity. I grew up in a very small town in Northern Illinois. There was a strong tendency toward, shall we say, conformity. I never once believed I would go overseas, write books, or even live in a beautiful city.

Visiting Amsterdam

Visiting the Louvre! 

I still can't believe I went to Istanbul!!

The best adventure of all: The Charming Man.

Needs and Wants

One of the perennial flame wars of all time is *drum rolls*

Needs Vs. Wants.

(Say that in the Epic Rap Battles of History voice. It's pretty kicking)

I get really steamed when people say to someone,  "That's a WANT, not a NEED!" It's a way to dismiss someone's desires, be it for clean air, a hug, or a Ferrari. (or  Jaguar. Depending on your taste)

Most people will tell you that needs are only for survival - things like food, clothing, shelter, and breathing. Anything else is a want, and therefore frivolous.

The truth is, the only thing that matters is the question that comes after, "I want X" or "I want Y". That question is:

"For what?"

If I said, "I need a massage, lots of tea, a hot bath, and someone to brush my hair."

One of those "need" people would say, "Those are not needs, they are wants." They would think I was frivolous and wasteful, and I would think they were dumb-ass idiots with the IQ of a turnip. And we would both feel really miserable.

Well, if they had asked, "What for?", we could actually understand each other. I would answer, "If I don't get body work, stay hydrated, and have time with someone I trust, I turn into a pain-addled, depressive, angry hag."



The next time someone goes off about your wants/needs, ask yourself, "For what?"

It will stop the argument, create a better conversation, and save your sanity. :)

Quotes and snippets from Vamping It Up

Every so often, I like revisiting my books and choosing lines that I particularly like. Here are some from Vamping It Up.

Holly Barros hated her sex drive.

***

She would be a good girl. Like right now.

A good girl wouldn’t purse her lips in fascination at the muscles in another man’s shoulders as he dug a phone out of his back pocket. His enormous hand dwarfed the device. Wide, sensual fingers danced over the glass surface.

Big hands, big cock, Blaine’s werewolf cousins used to whisper when they watched soccer games and compared the players. He would have to have a horse dick to fit those broad hands. Her throat dried.

 ***

His outstretched hand was cool and dry as he helped her up from the couch. He placed his hands on her hips and guided her to his bedroom. “We have the time. I’m sure we can do it more than once. Math majors are fun that way.”

More than once? Wow.

“I’m not orgasmic,” she warned.

“I’m not goal oriented,” he replied.

***

Someone knocked on the door.

“Locksmith,” a voice called from the hallway.

“Coming,” Steven called back.

“No shit,” the locksmith yelled. “The whole building knows that.”

Steven laughed. She giggled, surprisingly proud of herself. Blaine could bite her. This is what really good sex was all about.

 ***

 Celeste’s hand left the camera frame and re-emerged with a full martini glass, complete with lemon twist. “My dear. There are no cures for a broken heart. But the best bandages are copious amounts of champagne, ridiculously expensive shoes, and a procession of nubile men.”

 ***

She wanted a life filled with pleasure. The big joys, too, like the epiphanies of generosity, not just bodily sensations such as food and drink and scent, but the sensuality of intellectual stimulation.

How many times had she come back from a challenging lecture on the politics of the emergence of the parallel court system ready to jump Blaine?

Cerebral pursuits turned her on.The corners of her mouth curved in delicious remembrance of Steven’s talented and curious body. Bliss and carnality and hedonism all conjoining with mental inspiration.

***

Being CEO of BarrosCorp was a difficult, demanding job. The long hours, endless travel, and the relentless pounding against the glass ceiling left Holly with certain needs. Animalistic, carnal, raw needs. Needs that were about to be met.

 ***

“And I see something that fits our vacation mood,” Celeste smiled. She beckoned to someone behind Holly. A perfectly ripped young man in a Roman gladiator outfit approached them, a golden tray of small bites on his shoulder. He stopped in front of the two women.
“Fruit, ladies? Chocolates, perhaps?”
“Some of us embrace the power of ‘and’.” Celeste said.

Fortune Cookies to the Rescue!

Like all authors, I keep a quote file. For today, I'm sharing a bunch of fortunes that I have saved.

Why fortune cookies? Well, I'm in the middle of a love scene for my work in progress, Curse of the Spider Woman, and I can't think of anything more creative. Sorry!

Pull the universe inside you. Make it your own.

The capacity for delight is the gift of paying attention.

Your enthusiasm inspires people.

Your sparkle will never fade.

Lastly:

Smile if you like this fortune cookie.

Flash Fiction!

I am participating in Baby Shoes: Celebrating Flash Fiction. And we have a Kickstarter!

What is this all about?

The Plan

The world needs more flash fiction anthologies, and we're here to do our little part to fill that need.

Our concept is simple: bring you 100 authors with 100 different voices in bites you can fully enjoy waiting in line, using the restroom or getting in a brief reading fix at the end of a busy and exhausting day. We're also hoping to introduce you to a writer or two you'll be happy to begin a lifelong relationship with.

Flash fiction is challenging, powerful and intense -- and underserved because it's a difficult business model to serve. That said, it's perfect for a crowdfunded project like this one.

The Money

We're looking for $1,800 to fully fund an e-book release.

• $900 for author payment and fulfillment
• $200 for cover art and design (we're getting a great deal from a pro we know)
• $300 for editing and publishing prep (again, we're getting a steal from a pro we know)
• $100 for promotion before and after the Kickstarter funds
• $100 for reward fulfillment (based on selling 100 copies)
• $200 for Amazon and Kickstarter fees (they take their bite)
• $150 for cost overruns (because $3,500 is a nice, round number)
  

Our stretch goal of $3,500 gives us enough money to produce a beautiful print copy of the book. Nearly all of that goes toward the cost of printing and shipping the physical tomes. 

Any money above our goal goes right into a profitable publishing venture -- and is shared with our authors.

The Promise

Our goal here is to celebrate flash fiction and the authors who create it. If we have to make a decision about the project, process or any money that comes with it, we will make that decision to serve the authors and story first.
For example, when our first Kickstarter campaign failed, we went to the authors and all voted on whether or not an e-release would be okay. That led to this e-release with a stretch goal model.

The dude even does push-ups for charity.

Risks and challenges

Jason Brick (Executive Editor) has published more than a half-dozen books on his own and advises others on the same. Before working as a writer, he ran brick-and-mortar businesses for almost 15 years. He has the project management chops to make this work.

By far the biggest risk is the number of moving parts: 100 authors and 100 stories leaves lots of room for stuff to go wrong. In fact, we're planning for late turn-ins, people flaking out and even plagiarism. Our timeline and budget leave room for those problems.

If things go badly wrong, we will find replacement authors and push back the release date. No matter what happens, there will be a book and you will get all the rewards you've been promised.

Donate here!

Blast from the Past: 2013 Resolutions

Back in 2013, some of my fellow writers and I did a series of blog tours. We talked about our goals for the new year on each other's blogs. Here is my post on the topic of Creating a Literary Life.

My favorite book on writing, bar none, is Making a Literary Life, by Elizabeth See. The section she wrote on rejection is life changing. I wanted to discuss it today, but I’d have to quote the whole damn thing, and that was way too much copyright infringement, even for me.

Instead, I’m going to discuss her chapter on making the magic, going beyond the words on the page, and into creating the life that makes you shine.

I can’t say it better than she does, so here it is.

Any philanthropist knows that the more money she gives, the more she’ll get back; any volunteer knows that hour spent in a good cause give us golden time. We all know, at some level, that stinginess doesn’t work.

If you start giving away what you want, you give the universe a nudge – you get the cosmic Jell-O trembling.

If you feel you don’t have enough love in your life (no writer, art6ist, human being can exist without love), don’t go around trying to steal it at low bars from impressionable young men and women: Try giving it away, in a blaze of affection, compliments and hugs. Start with your musty old grandma, your lumpy wife, your doltish dad: hugs and compliments- because you have so much love in your bank that you can afford to give it away, lavishly and recklessly.

So what are you waiting for? The best part of the literary and creative life is giving away what you most want. 

Blast from the Past: Playing with the Tarot

Back on December 12 of 2013, I did a cool blog post about creating my mission statement. And I liked this post so much, I thought I'd re-run it!

*****

 There is something about the winter season that makes me want to hermit up. I decided I might as well roll with it, so this morning, I did a  Tarot spread.

 My deck is the Visconti-Sforza deck, a 15th century deck, and one that I find the most beautiful.

I'm not a big Tarot chick - I find it a fun way to play with brainstorming, dream up psychological insights, and of course, work on archetypes. 

I found a spread called Create a Vision Statement in Barbara Moore's book, Tarot Spreads.
Super fun!

The spread looks like this: 

2     3

   1

4     5

Position One is who you are, Two is what you do, Three is how you do it, Four is who you do it for, and Five is the benefits to your clients/audience. 

And this is my very cool mission statement!

I discover and bring to life bold stories of adventure and passion for lovers and dreamers so we can create options for a better world. 

 *happy dances*

What is *your* mission statement?

(I drew the Eight of Wands, the Knight of Wands, the King of Wands, Two of Cups, and the Nine of Cups, if you are curious)l

Blog Tour: How to Kill Your Boss by Krissy Daniels

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter will receive a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble gift card. Click HERE to see the other stops on the tour.


How to Kill Your Boss is only $0.99 during the month of January. Pick up your copy today!

Be sure to follow the tour and comment. The more you comment, the more chances to win!

 When Tatum’s daydreams of murder become a reality, all fingers point to her.

In Tatum Wood’s opinion, murdering her boss on a daily basis within the safety of her thoughts is better than therapy. Until he takes a swan dive off a building and all evidence points to her. Thank goodness she has Franklin Reed. Her mysterious, overprotective and drop-dead gorgeous coworker is all too eager to play hero. With two attacks in her building and her stalker with a penchant for roses, Franklin’s injection into her life couldn’t have come at a better time.

As Tatum and Franklin scramble to discover who’s behind the murder, secrets are unearthed that question his motives...as well as his identity.

Enjoy an excerpt:

“Who are you?” I swiveled to face him.

His grim expression softened. Barely. “You know who I am.”

“Who are you?” I asked again, more a demand than a question.

“The man who keeps saving your ass.” He looked my way, and I got my first glance at his face. The skin surrounding his eye boasted several shades of purple and blue. His nose definitely didn’t look right, and three large scratches stretched from his left eye to below his cheekbone. Not bad for my first shot at kicking someone’s ass. Instinct urged me to reach over and offer comfort. I tucked my hand under my leg to keep it from such betrayal.

“Why were men shooting at you?” I asked, unable to cloak the seething anger in my tone.

“They weren’t.”

“Now you’re not making sense.”

“You have to trust me.”

“How in the world can you ask me to do that? Why is there a collage of me on your wall?”

Franklin’s lips drew into a tight line. The muscles in his jaw protruded.

“Classified?” I asked, fed up with the way the conversation was going.

“Yes.”

My pressure gage blew. I buried my face in my hands and screamed. “Take me back to the police station. I can’t be near you. I’d rather rot in a cell.”

"I’m afraid I can’t do that.” His voice remained calm.

I pulled on the door handle. “I’ll jump out if you don’t start talking. Why were men shooting at you?”

“They weren’t aiming for me, Killer. You were the target.”

About the Author:

Krissy is a full time writer, an avid reader, and lover of all things romance.

Growing up surrounded by the great outdoors, her childhood was full of adventure that fueled an overactive imagination and ignited a passion for storytelling. Whether it be dolls, or running free through the wooded areas surrounding her home, playtime always included a tormented villain, a damsel in distress and a larger than life hero.

After relentless encouragement from friends and family, she finally put the characters in her head to pen and paper. The only thing she loves more than curling up with a steamy romance novel, is cozying up to her desk and writing her own sexy adventures to share with others.

https://krissydaniels.com
https://www.facebook.com/ authorkrissydaniels
https://twitter.com/kdanielsbooks
https://www.tsu.co/Krissy_Daniels
http://www.pinterest.com/authorkdaniels/</ a>
 http://www.amazon.com/Krissy-Daniels/e/B00ITEIUEM/ ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1418854733&sr=8-1
http://instagram.com/krissydanielsbooks/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7361560.Krissy_Daniels? from_search=true

Buy the book at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, Google or iTunes.

Ten Awesome People: The final count

On June 30th,  2014, I started the Ten Awesome People I'd Like to buy Lunch For Project. I sent notes (mostly on paper, but some email) to ten people whose work has touched my life. I wanted to send them thank you notes and an offer to buy them lunch as a token of my extreme. :)


I sent notes to:

1. President and First Lady Obama
2.  Kenneth Branagh, writer, actor, director, producer
3. Pam Grier, actress
4. Clarissa Pinkola Estes, author of Women Who Run with the Wolves
5. Gala Darling, blogger, Radical Self Love guru
6. Andy Serkis, actor, known for his motion capture work
7. Fran Walsh, co-writer and producer of the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit movies
8. Robert Shaye, the founder of New Line Cinema
9. Mel Brooks, comedian, actor, director
10. Gloria Steinem, activist, feminist

Of the ten, I got fabulous rejections from Mel Brooks,  Gloria Steinem, and President Obama. I got Robert Shaye's address wrong, so that envelope came back.

As of now, I'm celebrating my courage to try this ambitious project. I'm not following up on the other letters yet. Someday I will, and I will keep you informed.

So don't be afraid of reaching out to people. At worst, you might get a lovely rejection note. :)

Quotes and snippets: Vamping It Up.

Celeste sipped her drink. “Enough of work. We are on vacation. Cheers.”

“Gan Pei!” Holly clinked their glassed together and they drank.

“And I see something that fits our vacation mood,” Celeste smiled. She beckoned to someone behind Holly.

 A perfectly ripped young man in a Roman gladiator outfit approached them, a golden tray of small bites on his shoulder. He stopped in front of the two women. “Fruit, ladies? Chocolates, perhaps?”

 “Some of us embrace the power of ‘and’.” Celeste smiled, her half-open eyes smoldering in admiration.

The waiter sat on the arm of Celeste’s chair and selected a fat, wet, strawberry. Grinning like they had a naughty secret, she bit into the luscious fruit. The berry’s juice stained her already red mouth.

 Holly blushed but she didn’t glance away. She watched as her aunt licked her lips, leaving a moist sensual shine. The boy’s eyelids dropped and he focused on Celeste’s mouth. The two shared a languorous, heated look, setting the cool indoor air on fire. He whispered in Celeste’s ear, making her lashes lower in agreement. With a small tilt of her head, Celeste motioned for their gallant to serve Holly.

He pivoted, a grape waiting for her in his fingers. Holly opened her own mouth, making him come to her. He sat on her chair and laid the purple-black globe on her tongue. She bit, relishing the juices bursting through the thin skin.

Their attendant stood, his thigh muscles shifting under his battle kilt. He blew Celeste a kiss, winked at Holly, and disappeared into the crowd. Sweat gathered on the back of her neck. The little display lasted less than a minute but the power of pleasure and attraction filled her.

At Amazon
At Barnes and Noble

Quotes and Snippets: Dracula's Desires

 John Jante’s life hung by a thread.

Valerie could smell his blood hanging in the air. If those idiot Fallen Angels let him die, she’d empty hell itself in vengeance.

She gunned her black 1966 Shelby Mustang to the limit, burying the tachometer in the red. The tires howled as the car fishtailed against the gravel-laden highway cutting through the Swiss Alps. Cursing, she spun the steering wheel against the skid and roared between two honking tourist buses.

“Lucifer’s wormy teeth, I spit at thee.” She damned the slow moving vehicles.

The heavily forested mountains and charming villages blurred until the view out her window seemed an unending wall of green and stone. Lake Geneva was nothing but a long deep blue line below her. The powerful engine propelled her through the hairpin turns faster than a vampire could run. Her smaller weapons duffel sat on the passenger seat, an innocent black bag filled with high-powered destruction.

The Blood Wings Trilogy:
Dracula's Secret, Book One. At Amazon. At Barnes and Noble.
Check out a chapter!

Dracula's Desires, Book Two. At Amazon. At Barnes and Noble.
Check out a chapter!

Dracula Unleashed, Book Three. At Amazon. At Barnes and Noble.
Check out a Chapter!

Quotes and Snippets: Dracula's Desires.

Here are a couple of my secondary characters from Dracula's Desires, Anthony and Glenath.

Anthony O’Neill, one of the four vampires left on earth, hero of the French Resistance, recent instrument in the downfall of a Presidential hopeful, and currently on his honeymoon, found his wife stoned out her mind in an Amsterdam coffee shop.

The establishment was nice enough, at least, instead of one of those tiny ones that used cracked red plastic banquet chairs for seating. Glenath Tempesta, the love of his life, and her flowing skirts were draped over a worn velvet sofa.

“Have some of the space cake. I haven’t had anything this good since the ‘60s,” she giggled.

Her long wild grey hair framed her sensual face and heavy grey smoke framed her luscious reclined body. Young skinny males buzzed around her, each vying for his darling’s attention. Even in her sixties, his Glenath turned men’s heads with her sensuality and earthy style.


Buying and testing links:
Dracula's Secret, Book One. At Amazon. At Barnes and Noble.
Check out a chapter!

Dracula's Desires, Book Two. At Amazon. At Barnes and Noble.
Check out a chapter!

Dracula Unleashed, Book Three. At Amazon. At Barnes and Noble.
Check out a Chapter!

Quotes and snippets: Dracula's Desires

A teaser from my second book, Dracula's Desires.

Chapter One
What in Hell was a Fallen Angel doing in Geneva, Switzerland?

That caustic brimstone stench could warn a city of half-dead humans with nose colds busily shoveling manure, let alone a solitary vampire minding her own business. Valerie Tate set aside her ancient manuscript about vampires and looked out her cheap hotel room’s filthy window to take stock of the newcomer.

Aching from yesterday’s long drive from Amsterdam to Geneva, she put her hands on the small of her back and stretched, counterbalancing the weight of her six months pregnant stomach.

She wasn’t interested in being a mother, but her curiosity demanded that she see what happened. Right now, an emissary from Lucifer was happening.

Quotes and snippets; Dracula's Secret.

Here is a teaser from my first book,
Dracula's Secret:

Then sheer vehicular lust overwhelmed everything. The black Shelby Mustang crouched on the pavement like a rare predator. This sweet machine was the pinnacle of all muscle cars, the most legendary of engines combined with perfect design.

And he was about to get in it. There was no way he was going back to work just yet.

“She’s a ’67?” He touched respectful fingers to the glossy black paint over the hood. The white Le Mans stripes decorating the hood shimmered in the outdoor lights of the motel.

“’66.” The smooth skin around her eyes crinkled, giving her a mischievous air. She was planning something. With a sly smile, she said, “You want to drive her?”

“You would let me behind your wheel?” He slapped his hand over his heart and staggered, feigning a heart attack

A creaky, unpracticed laugh escaped from the vampire. What a beautiful noise.

She pulled out keys, complete with a battered leather Mustang fob, and dangled them in front of him. They chimed like church bells in the dark. Her smirk revealed still-extended, wickedly delicious fangs.

His mouth watered at the thought of those 350 vintage horses under his fingers waiting for his command. A vague memory from his youth told him the Shelby could go from zero to sixty in 4.5 seconds. This was every car-crazy boy’s fantasy, hot babe included, right here in front of him.

“No need to ask me twice.” He snatched the jingling keys from her hand. Their eyes met.

Watchfulness swam in those dark depths. She was testing him. His awareness slid up a notch. The wrong move from him and she’d take that gorgeous car and disappear from his life.

That would suck.

Inspiration! Perspiration!

Yul Brynner. Hellllllo!

Some days, a romance writer just has to go through pictures of handsome men. Romance novels are one of the few place that women can safely and unashamedly enjoy the male form, so I'd better be able to write about men in a clear and vivid manner!

Here are some of my favorite men for inspiration.


Who are some of your favorite men to admire?

Dolph Lundgren.

Oh, and another Yul, just for fun.

New book!

As you know, I have a new book out! Vamping It Up, an erotic coming-of-age novella was released on October 25th. This is my fourth book, and the first I've self-published. And I am so stoked. :)

How about another teaser snippet?

She stretched and yawned. What adventure could happen next?“

Good morning,” a half-asleep masculine voice greeted her from the hallway. Holly opened her mouth to say hello, but her jaw stayed open.

A half-asleep Dante was a mostly-naked Dante. Oh, last night, he’d looked mighty fine in a pair of black trousers and a half-unbuttoned white linen shirt. In the morning light, though, he wore a pair of red boxer briefs cut high on the thigh and the crotch cupped his package.

She swallowed. Dante had no worries in the cock-size department. Her nipples rose against the satin.

To buy:
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Vamping It Up: Are you ready?

Vamping It Up will be released on Friday, October 24th, 2014 - Just in time for your Halloween reading needs!

To whet your appetite, here is what happens after Holly decides to free herself from her ex's mindset.

***

“Hey, what did that door ever do to you?” Her neighbor, Steven Dearborne, spoke from his doorway. The only time Blaine met Steven, her former fiancée claimed the other man was a horn dog. “Don’t talk to him. He wants to fuck you. A guy doesn’t smile at a girl unless he wants to fuck her.” She had believed Blaine’s assessment. After all, her ex-fiancé was older and more experienced. Hindsight told her his order revealed more about Blaine than about Steven. As a result of her blind trust, she knew very little about Steven.

He was a graduate student in math, shaved his head, and wasn’t with his noisy girlfriend any more. Today, his bald scalp gleamed with perspiration.

Unlike slender, hairless Blaine, Steven’s auburn chest hair decorated a broad barrel chest set with heavy muscles. He would have been right at home in one of those old pirate movies with strong men chained to the oars. Holly gazed at his chest. His pectoral muscles rose from his sternum in a graceful arch. His belly wasn’t a cobbled eight pack, but it was flat and tight, belying the stereotype of the sedentary math major. His reddish body hair was fine and pettable, like the softest fur.

Under that thin coat, his muscles moved with a supple enticement, drawing her attention to the line from his navel to his crotch. Holly glanced down, expecting to see the ubiquitous cargo shorts all men wore around campus. Instead, Steven wore a black and tan sarong decorated with enormous, frolicking geckos. His lax genitalia pressed against the thin cotton. He hooked his thumb under the waistband of his sarong and fanned his fingers.

Steven was framing his wedding tackle. Steven was uncircumcised and dressed to the right. Well, hello, Steven.

Vamping It Up; Are you ready?

Poor Holly! What is she going to do now that her long term fiance has revealed himself to be a liar and a cheat?

***

The harps sounded again.

I want the ring back. Bring it by tonight.

 Rage welled inside of her, hotter than the blistering road. The sun no longer burned.

“Fuck.”

 Holly rarely let herself use the ultimate profanity. As the expletive burst from her mouth, a valve inside of her soul released.

Fuck him.

Fuck his father, fuck her dependency, and fuck her making him the axis of her universe.

She wasn’t going to be his patsy, his best friend, his lover-but-not-really. Holly was done being his doormat.

She poked out the words to her return message. You want it, you get it yourself.

The harps sang with Blaine’s response. If you want to cop an attitude, that’s your problem, not mine.

Holly dumped the phone back into her bag. With the same hand, she removed the offending Batman comic she had bought for his gift. With deliberate, precise movements, she tore open the slick plastic bag. She gripped the front cover and with a surge of strength, shredded each and every page into tiny, multicolored confetti.

The story had been a steaming pile of misogynistic doo-doo anyway. She dumped the heaping pile of crap into the garbage can by the driver.

Hell.

She should have gotten her money back. The refund could have paid for her first vibrator.

Vamping It Up will be released Friday, October 24th! Meet Holly Barros, a shy, young woman who is about to find out some very unwelcome news.

***

An angelic harp arpeggio emanated from her backpack. “Oh.” That was Blaine’s text message tone. She plunged her hand into her cavernous bag. Probably some last minute instructions for tonight’s party planning dinner. What to wear, perhaps, or who she needed to talk to. Huffing and puffing from the heat, she unlocked the screen.

Theresa  is having my baby. I won’t marry you. 

Holly froze. He couldn’t mean Theresa Harrison, the bane of Holly’s existence? Her arch enemy from kindergarten to sophomore year of high school?

She blinked her eyes, shook her head. The heat must have done a number on her vision. Blaine couldn’t have said that. She must have misread it. Confident again, she opened her eyes.

And there it was, in damning black and white.

Theresa is having my baby. I won’t marry you.

The words twisted in front of her. The bottom of her stomach plummeted, leaving her hollow and brittle. The seat burned her thighs, but it barely registered. Nothing mattered except the message on the screen.

Blaine didn’t want her. Her entire existence for the last five years had been centered on Blaine. When she traveled to see her aunt or to attend out of town school functions, he complained. Holly knew it was because he loved her and wanted her around. She called him every morning to wake him and she called him at night to tuck him in.

The skin on her scalp yanked tight, adding to the headache streaking along her brow line. Unthinking, she unwound her ponytail. The curly black strands stuck to her forehead and neck. She’d not cut her hair since she was seventeen when Blaine told her he liked long hair. Even the cherry-dotted mini-sundress she wore was in response to Blaine’s tastes, even though its beige background clashed with the brown skin and black hair of her Portuguese ancestors.

Small, strong, with a full bottom but small breasts, she secretly wanted to wear pin-up girl clothes to show off her rear. Instead, the little dress was cut straight up and down; a style best suited for a narrow-hipped, fair-skinned waif. Like Theresa.

Who was she if she wasn’t Blaine Harrington’s girlfriend?