Category Archives: Romance

Cover Reveal: Just a Week by Jena Wade

 

JenaWade_JustAWeek_COVERLG

Release: July 14th, 2016

Publisher: Loose Id

Blurb:

Just a week is not enough time to fall in love, but Fate doesn’t care. Seth’s carefully crafted plan for how his life will go doesn’t include falling in love with a guy in his horrible hometown. He wants to start a new life anywhere but at home. Until Maddox storms in with his multi-colored hair and carefree attitude.

Long distance relationships don’t work and Seth isn’t into gambling with his future. But the more time he spends with Maddox, the more he’s willing to throw caution to the wind. Now his plan for the rest of his life has been turned upside down and seems to include things Seth never thought possible, including a lifetime of happiness in his hometown.

 

Excerpt:

I headed out the door and grabbed the book I started a few days ago out of my car. In high school I would always go to the park and read when it was nice out. My parents were happy knowing I got fresh air, and I was happy just to get lost in the world of whatever book had captured my attention.

I found my usual bench unoccupied. Thank goodness. It sat underneath a giant oak tree that provided a good amount of shade. About a hundred feet away sat a set of playground equipment for kids. Since it was Sunday evening, there weren’t many kids around.

The screech and clicks of skateboards on metal had me looking around like I’d just entered a parallel universe. What the hell?

Where there used to be old basketball hoops with raggedy nets, there now stood a half-pipe and other random obstacles used for skateboarding tricks. A half dozen teenagers and young adults whizzed around each other. Some on boards, others on rollerblades. All of them moving at high speed.

There was a lot of laughing, and every so often someone shouted, “Check this out,” before trying some stunt on the rail, usually resulting in a fall or stumble.

Squealing kids on a swing set I could drown out. But this, I wasn’t so sure about. It was new. And distracting.

One young man in particular stood out. Mostly because he had bright orange hair that spiked in every direction, possibly looking like it could impale a person if they were to touch it. Like a cactus. He also looked a bit older than the teenagers that surrounded him, which might explain why they all seemed to look up to him like he was a god.

He wore a black zip-up sweatshirt, though it was warm enough to go without, and jeans that were skintight.

Once I started watching him, I noticed that the other skaters watched him too. He had talent. He kept his balance well, and his moves seemed effortless. While the other skaters floundered and wobbled as they zoomed around, he kept calm and collected.

I didn’t understand the appeal of skateboarding, especially on a half-pipe. What was the purpose of putting yourself in harm’s way like that? Might as well throw myself down a flight of stairs if I wanted to break a bone.

Orange-haired Guy stood on the deck of the half-pipe. He stared down the slope below, his face unreadable. He didn’t call the others to gather around and watch, though I had a feeling they would anyway.

He took a deep breath and hopped on his board.

I held my breath, like I was the one up there. I watched in wonder as he gained momentum, back and forth, up and down the half-pipe. Once he had enough speed he began his flips. It looked amazing to me. Him flipping in the air, his feet staying on the board as he spun, then landing perfectly to do it all over again. I guess I had never bothered to watch any skateboarding before. Maybe I would have if they had looked like this skateboarder.

My nose pressed against the chain-link fence that surrounded the skate park before I even realized I had walked closer. At least I started breathing again.

He stopped just as quickly as he started. Landing back on the deck of the half-pipe, like he hadn’t just done something incredible. And maybe it wasn’t to him; maybe that was just another day in the life. To me it was pretty cool.

The other skaters around cheered and gave him high fives as he made his way through the park. Just like that, he left. He hit the sidewalk and hopped back on to his board, flying down the street like it was made for him.

I snapped out of it. What the hell just happened? I don’t gawk. I never gawk.

I rushed back to my regular bench, picked up my book, and headed home, no longer in the mood to read. At least not outside. At home inside my room there wouldn’t be any distractions. Visions of the orange-haired guy floated through my head, and I couldn’t shake them. I blamed the jet lag.

Never mind the fact that I didn’t fly home. Nor did I go through any time zones. Traveling had tired me out, and I wasn’t thinking straight.

Just a week. Then I would be back where I belonged and where things were normal. Routine. The way I liked it.

 

Bio:

Jena Wade began writing in January of 2013 as a New Year’s resolution and so far she has stuck to it.

Jena lives in Michigan with her husband, two dogs, and one brand new baby boy. By day she works as a web developer and at night she writes. She was born and raised on a farm and spends most of her free time outdoors, playing in the garden or tending to her landscaping.

Links:

The Jena Wade: www.thejenawade.com

Loose Id: http://www.loose-id.com/authors/erotic-romance-authors-g-k.html?cat=699

Twitter: thejenawade.twitter.com

 


Balancing Act is Out! #giveaway #MMRomance

 

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It’s here! It’s here! It’s really, really here!

I’m so excited for everyone to catch up with Kyrie and Greg, and to meet Andy–finally!

 

Blurb:

Greg Dwyer and Kyrie Li are living the glorious couple life in New York City. Or are they? When struggling actor Kyrie lands a modeling job, he’s ecstatic to have extra cash to spend on his best-friend-turned-boyfriend.

Of course, Greg is suspicious Anders Berglund, the gorgeous and androgynous Swedish cover model the designers love to pair with Kyrie, is after his man. And maybe Kyrie encourages a growing closeness with the guy?

Greg is probably to blame if Kyrie is drawn to the openly gay and seriously beautiful Andy. With Andy, Kyrie can be himself, as loud and proud as he’s always been. But Greg’s sexuality stays firmly locked in the closest except when he’s with Kyrie’s supportive family or alone with the man he loves.

To make matters worse, Greg’s out-of-touch mom meets with financial ruin and moves in with the couple, forcing him into the closet in his own home.

Can Greg find a way to stand up to Mommy Dearest and win back a love he fought so hard to reach? He discovers the road to pride begins at home and with accepting oneself first. Otherwise, it’s just a dead-end street.

Excerpt:

Two changing screens filled a large portion of the next room. A woman stood at the rack of clothes, organizing and examining them. She beckoned Kyrie over. He recognized some of his attire hanging before her.

“I’m not confident about the fit in the chest, Daphne.” A soft voice with a delightful Nordic lilt came from behind the screen to his right.

The tall brunette turned. “Let’s see. I can take it in if need be.” Daphne put her hands on her hips, and Anders Berglund stepped out. He wore a black ball gown with ebony feathers accenting the bodice. They created a starkly jagged edge against his bare skin. The material gapped before his pale chest, and Daphne was immediately behind him, tugging, marking the fabric with a piece of chalk.

“Hey.” Anders smiled and waved his fingers at Kyrie. “Pleasure to meet you. Ky-ree, right?”

“Close. Rhymes with dearie.”

“Kyrie,” Anders tried again. The subtle extra accent on the first syllable didn’t belong but pleased Kyrie immensely.

He grinned like a fool. “That’s me. I’m absolutely-positively-beyond-excited to be working with you.” He stepped forward, hand out, and Anders Berglund took the offering. His grip wasn’t overly firm, soft skin hiding delicate bones beneath.

“My agent sent me your test shots once he found out we were working together.” The words were slow and measured, especially striking on the heels of Kyrie’s run-on exclamation. Anders’ accent hinted of British influence on certain words. Must have learned the Queen’s version. “The camera really loves you.”

“I’m just hoping not to look like a troll next to the world’s current it model.” Kyrie knew he was attractive; he could claim pretty even, with the slight Asian slant to his unusual amber eyes. They popped against the light brown of his skin, accented further by thick, long lashes every woman he met was jealous of.

But Anders Berglund was flawless. His face was already made up: kohl-ringed turquoise eyes framed with what had to be fake lashes, his skin powdered to pale perfection, and berry-red lips with just the right amount of fullness and a perpetual sexy pout whether he was dressed as a man or a woman. His bone structure was impeccable, including high cheeks and the graceful neck to go with his six-foot-tall, ultra-thin frame. Straw-blond hair was piled on his head, escaped locks artfully framing his face. Women wished they looked like him. Men wanted to fuck him, at least until they realized the gorgeous supermodel was actually a man downstairs. And certainly, some men were still hot for him afterward.

Anders Berglund was far from Kyrie’s type, but he could appreciate iconic beauty when it stared back.

“Hah. I don’t think you could ever be a troll.” Anders scratched his shoulder with two fingers where the tip of a feather had to be driving him insane.

“I’m tempted to do stick-on boobs.” Daphne yanked tight again. “But Syd wants you completely feminine with your natural parts. She likes how skinny you are.”

“Whatever she wants.”

“Yeah, I’ll stitch this up a bit tighter.” She unzipped the back of the dress and slid it down. Anders stepped out and stood in black stockings held up by a garter with matching briefs. He waved at Kyrie, all bright white skin, jutting ribs, long limbs, and sharp hip bones. He looked breakable despite his height, like a piece of fine china.

“Get dressed,” Daphne snapped at Kyrie. “We don’t want to keep Syd waiting.”

“I would have come an hour early just to avoid hearing that a thousand times.”

Anders’ mouth twitched up. Daphne glared.

The off-white tux behind the other screen wasn’t part of the stash of clothes Kyrie had taken home. He’d been measured at the callback, and the powers that be had custom ordered additional pieces. He slipped into the slim-leg cream pants. If the benefactors of the Spectrum Spectacular truly had cut corners with some of the underthings, the suit was an exception. It draped precisely over his hips, and he twisted to check his ass in the full-length mirror in the center panel of the screen. The silk shirt pressed cool kisses to his chest with every movement he made.

In shape from almost daily running, Kyrie normally relied on skintight pants and formfitting shirts to best display his attributes, but this designer-cut clothing thing he could totally get used to. He scrutinized his butt again as he shrugged into the jacket with black-trimmed lapel.

If Greg could see me now…

Kyrie knotted the black bow tie and stepped out wearing a grin and a kick-tail tux. Daphne was fussing with Anders again, his ball gown back in place.

“What do you say, Andy? May I have this dance?” He swept into a low bow.

Anders gave a soft laugh. “Of course.”

“You’ll need your lifts first.” Daphne pointed toward a pair of black dress shoes. The soles were at least an inch thicker than normal.

“Huh.” Kyrie stepped into the shoes, grumbling and shooting death rays with his eyes. Daphne finished with Anders, and it was Kyrie’s turn to be plucked like a Thanksgiving turkey. By the time she sent him out to the first shoot staging, Kyrie had begun to wonder why anyone would want to be a model.

 


Find Balancing Act:

Liquid Silver Publishing

Amazon

All Romance eBooks

Google Play

iTunes

Kobo

Add Balancing Act to Goodreads!

 

 

***To celebrate the release of Balancing Act, I’m giving away a beautiful silver choker necklace with abalone pendant!***

Click away!

necklace
a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

 

 


All or Nothing by Susan Behon

 

 

 

Susan Behon’s 5th Madison Falls book is out now!

 

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Blurb:

Christopher King had everything. He had his family, his security company, and most importantly, he had Fiona O’Malley. Almost. Until he has to let Fiona go for reasons he can’t reveal.

He thought he’d shut her out, but every stolen look and lingering glance gives him away. Fiona knows things aren’t as they seem, so she comes up with a plan to get Chris to tell her the truth. It works a little too well when the very reason he stayed away comes to light and threatens everything he’s fought to keep safe.

Unable to live the lie any longer, Chris needs Fiona by his side to put a stop to the danger that’s following her and tormenting him. Fiona becomes the key to unlocking his every secret, including the love he can no longer deny.

Excerpt:

Chris took Fiona by the waist and pulled her against him in an echo of their earlier embrace. “You want to know what it was? Why I dragged you back there?” She had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. Chris’s heart thudded because he knew what he was about to confess. “It was me wanting you so much that every day without you has been my own special kind of Hell. And it was all of my own making. I couldn’t touch you or taste you because I forced you out of my reach. All that time, it was me seeing you, but not being able to stare, taking in your scent without being able to really inhale, and hearing your voice and not being able to say what was on my mind or in my…”

No, he’d said enough.

“To say what was in your what?” Fiona clutched at his shoulders. Chris didn’t know if her heart was pounding too or if it was the reverberations from his own slamming against her.

“Never mind.” Chris skittered back from the edge.

“Damn it. Tell me!” It was the closest he’d ever heard Fiona come to a shout. Her dormant Irish temper was wide awake now. “Come on, Christopher King, I’m right here.” She grabbed his hand and set it over her heart. Christ. Her upper chest was so soft and warm, it wasn’t much of a struggle to keep his hand right where it was. “Here I am. Feel me…see me…tell me what you want to say. Tell me what’s on your mind and in your…?”

“Goddamn it, Fee!” He felt goaded into raising his voice as well. “My heart, okay? I wanted to tell you what was in my heart. I love you so fucking much I ache with it.”

There. All his cards were on the table now. The absence of sound was deafening. Had they both stopped breathing? Fee hadn’t said anything yet and the suspense was killing him. He’d never told a woman he loved her before and waiting for her to either laugh at him or love him too, sucked. Screw it. He dropped his hands and stepped around her. “I’ll show you to your room. It’s been a long day. You’re probably tired…”

“I’m not tired.” She kept pace behind him.

He kept going. “The bathroom is to the left down the hall. You might want to take a shower…”

“I don’t want to take a shower…not alone, anyway.”

Buy Links:

Amazon Kindle: http://amzn.to/28JCbIg

iTunes: http://apple.co/26LF0zm

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/24um1qR

BAM: http://bit.ly/1UsZjwG

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1SVb9ND

Googleplay: http://bit.ly/24umnxL

Social Media Links:

Twitter: www.twitter.com/suebeehny

Facebook: http://on.fb.me/1dD86dc

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1GFiuI

Amazon Author: http://amzn.to/1zn8Igz

Link to All Books: http://amzn.to/1JepnEA

Behon_Susan_Author_PicAuthor Bio:

Susan Behon, author of the Madison Falls series, enjoys creating a world that brings readers romance, laughter, and a healthy dose of sexiness. Susan graduated summa cum laude with a B. A. in English from Norfolk State University. She currently lives in Ohio with her very own romance hero of a husband and their two wonderful daughters.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Barbara’s Redemption by Diane Saxon

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Blurb

Black Hawk pilot Captain Barbara Lynn Perry is running scared. Witness to an event too horrible to think about and too dangerous to talk of, she finds herself alienated from a world she has always had faith in.

With her Special Forces brother missing, she has only one other person to turn to. When her friend Flynn Swann isn’t available, Barbara is left with no choice but to trust the man Flynn sends to save her.

Psychiatrist Dominic Salter’s information from her superior officer’s file is that Barbara has gone rogue. Despite the damning evidence, every instinct tells him he’s dealing with an honorable woman, one who single-handedly saved Flynn from torture and a sure death. Dominic’s challenge is to delve his way beneath her tough, defensive attitude and coax the truth from a woman who’s too frightened to reveal her dark secret.

In his brand new facility containing a state of the art Dreampsych Transcender he’s experimenting with, a machine far beyond a simulator, Dominic has to gain the trust and confidence of Barbara while he resists the hard pull of attraction to this kick-ass woman.

Betrayed by a member of his staff, events take a sinister turn, and the pressure is on in a fight against time for Dominic to persuade Barbara to put her trust in him and reveal the truth before matters are taken out of his hands.

Pre-Order Links & Order Links

Amazon UK | Amazon.Com |  https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/barbara-s-redemption   | iTunes

Excerpt

Her eyes flew open in a frenzied panic at the touch of a hand on her shoulder.

She surged to her feet and a red haze covered her vision from the violence of her memories. She knocked the dark figure above her onto his ass and spared him a brief, pitiful smile. She leaned in to appreciate the quick flash of surprise when he realized she’d relieved him of the gun he’d had tucked in his holster, neatly concealed under his thick cable-knit sweater. She held it to his temple. Ice formed to protect her heart. Self-preservation was paramount.

“It’s okay, Barbara. It was only a dream.” Her vision cleared while she stared into his tranquil features. “You’re safe, it was only a dream.”

But it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory, and nothing about it was okay.

Calmer, she scanned his face. Eyes soft as a rain-filled sky overflowed with empathy.

Barbara brought her face close to his. She’d seen fear many times and with varying degrees, but there was no fear from Dominic, just an innate patience as he waited for her to make her move.

Her mistake was touching him. She reached out her free hand and curved it around the back of his neck. The heat of his skin penetrated her iciness, warming the palm of her hand to remind her she was human and she held a human life at her mercy.

Not yet ready to acknowledge that humanity, she leaned in, her nose almost touching his. “What’s a good professor like you doing with a gun?”

The corner of his mouth kicked up as he kept his unwavering gaze on her. “Security. We have some very expensive equipment here. I am licensed.”

“You weren’t very secure, were you, Professor?”

“Dominic.”

“Yeah. That shit. Get me to call you by your name, we start to bond. Well, I’m not ready to bond, Prof.”

His low rumbling chuckle vibrated through her fingers. The guy had some balls to be able to laugh, even if it was a forced one. He leaned back on his elbows so she had to either let go of her hold on his neck or go with him. She rolled onto her knees so they pressed against his chest, surprised at the hard muscle she found there. Her position was a little precarious if he decided to flip her over, but she was still the one holding the gun to his head.

She gnawed at her bottom lip as she contemplated her options while the psychiatrist stared with endless patience in his deep, fathomless eyes until she made up her mind. With a regretful cluck, she shuffled back off Dominic’s body to rest on her haunches by his side. She should probably give him the benefit of the doubt.

She turned the gun around, offered him the handle, and as he took it, a thought occurred to her. “Is it loaded?”

His genuine smile spread wide, lightening his dark features as he sat upright to tuck the gun into its holster.

“It is.”

She came to her feet and offered her hand to help him up, unreasonably pleased when he took it and rolled to his feet, keeping a firm grip on her. His palm should have

been damp with sweat. Instead it was warm and dry. There was no softness to it, which was contrary to the rest of the image he portrayed.

“So, what do we do now, Professor?” She tilted her head to look up at him. It wasn’t difficult for anyone to be taller than she was, but he didn’t have the imposing height many of the soldiers she knew had. He was nowhere near as tall as the gorilla he employed, who probably topped six feet four. No, the solid professor was most likely just around the six feet mark, wide shoulders, his muscles were pretty well defined. She’d bet money he didn’t spend all day behind a desk in his cozy little gray-knit cardigan. She raked her gaze over him. He was a man of action.

Disappointed at the cool emptiness he left behind when he removed his hand from hers, she watched, intrigued, as he turned his back, apparently unconcerned that she could just whip the gun from him again. She’d made her point; he’d shown his trust. She didn’t feel the need to test him any further. It puzzled her why he should feel the need to carry a gun for security when the facility wasn’t commissioned and the only guest was her.

She studied him as he leaned over the desk, her opinion of the gentle professor evolving. There was definitely no need for him to carry a gun. Unless he knew something she didn’t. Unless Strachan had contacted him.

When he turned back, he held her file in one hand, his glasses in the other. “I think we can get to work. Come on. This way.”

Where to Find Diane Saxon

Author Website | Author Blog | Facebook  | Author Twitter | Goodreads Author |

Author Amazon Profile Page

About the AuthorDSC_0066

Diane Saxon lives in the Shropshire countryside with her tall, dark, handsome husband, two gorgeous daughters, a Dalmatian, one-eyed kitten, ginger cat, four chickens and a new black Labrador puppy called Beau, whose name has been borrowed for her hero in For Heaven’s Cakes.

After working for years in a demanding job, on-call and travelling great distances, Diane gave it all up when her husband said “follow that dream”.

Having been hidden all too long, her characters have burst forth demanding plot lines of their own and she’s found the more she lets them, the more they’re inclined to run wild.

Previous Books:

Loving Lydia -Atlantic Divide Book 1

Bad Girl Bill – Atlantic Divide Book 2

Finding Zoe – Atlantic Divide Book 3

Flight of Her Life

Flynn’s Kiss – Disarmed & Dangerous Book 1

Short Circuit Time

For Heaven’s Cakes

Banshee Seduction – Montgomery’s Sin, Book 1


Wolves at the Door by Skye Jones

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Blurb:

Research scientist, Brooke Buchanan, has agreed to spend a year studying the wildlife of a remote Scottish region. Alone in a wooden cabin with only her dog for company, she is determined not to be scared. But what she eventually finds living out there in the lonely woods shocks her to the core.

Sexy wolf shifter, Drew, knows the curvaceous female will be trouble, but he can’t resist her amazing scent. He seduces Brooke, and they spend a hot and sensual night together, but Drew wants more. He wants Brooke as his mate.

Disturbed by all she’s discovered, and overwhelmed by her intense feelings for the charismatic Drew, Brooke panics and runs.

Can Drew find her before it is too late?
*Wolves at the Door is book one in the new, Shifters of the Glen, paranormal romance series. Each book can be read as a standalone. No cliff hangers.

**This book was first released in the Shifters Gone Alpha boxset, and has been added to, containing bonus scenes and a new ending.

 

Buy Links:

Amazon US: https://amzn.com/B01FORFUEY

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01FORFUEY

 

Excerpt:

Some clichés are used for a reason. They are used because they are so bloody true. Happily, most people don’t ever find this out. They don’t experience their whole life flashing before their eyes as a train hurtles toward them. Or feel their blood turn to frozen sludge in their very veins. Right then, I experienced my own little clichéd moment. My blood ran cold, while my heart stuttered painfully in my chest.

Somehow, I managed to speak, and my voice came out calm enough to belie my inner turmoil. “I don’t like your game. And if you don’t go, and take your friends with you, I’m calling the police.”

He sighed. “Such gratitude. I could go, but then they’d come in, and I don’t think you’d like the results very much.”

“They didn’t come in last night.” I shot back.

“Because I sat here last night, too.”

What? The very idea of someone sitting, in the dark, watching me while I slept unawares, had every single centimeter of skin bumping up as the hair rose all over my body.

“How did you get in? I locked the door.” I glared at Sandy in the dark. Useless guard dog she made.

“I have a key,” he said. “It’s been in my family for years. I sat here and guarded you. Nobody will hurt you with me here.”

His soothing, deep, dark voice once again washed over me. It almost lulled me into security, despite my better judgment.

What would he look like? My mind had been whirring away, conjuring up all sorts of terrible visions. He might be like the bald, hideous creature from those old black and white vampire movies. Or perhaps he’d be tall and darkly handsome, in a devilish way. Something out of a Gothic novel. My very own Heathcliff…which wasn’t a good thing, I’d always thought Heathcliff cruel and mad, rather than exciting and sexy. With trembling fingers, I reached out and clicked on the night-light. Not knowing seemed scarier than the reality of what I might see.

He gave a hiss and put a hand over his eyes, giving me time to take him in. Normal. My first, astonished thought was he looked normal. Large, sure. Tall. Even sitting in the chair as he was, I could tell as much. And broad. His shoulders were brawny, defined by his checkered shirt. But normal all the same. He wore faded jeans and a white T-shirt, loosely covered by the unbuttoned checked shirt. The ensemble was finished with the sort of boots construction workers favored.

“Christ. Warn a guy before you try to blind him.” He moved his hand from his face and scowled…and I stared some more.

Okay, not quite normal. Unless you count looking like you’ve dropped from heaven as normal, which I most certainly didn’t. Handsome didn’t quite cut it. Blindingly, stupendously beautiful, almost did him justice. Not devilishly handsome as I’d imagined, but a man with the face of an angel.


Send Lawyers, Guns, and Roses by Heloise West

Send Lawyers, Guns, and Roses by Heloise West releases on April 19, 2016. It’s the sequel to Hitting Black Ice, so I recommend you pick up the first in Heloise’s Heart and Haven series right now (if you haven’t already) so you’ll be primed for book two next week. Both novels are action-packed and sure to please any MM mystery lover!

HeloiseWest_SendLawyersGunsandRoses

Blurb:

When Hunter and Alex (formally Shawn) are given the vacation of a lifetime, it’s a chance for them to pay attention to romance and get out of the path of danger. The tiny Caribbean island of Saba is gorgeous, the first to have marriage equality, and the Sabans are the nicest people on earth.

There’s lots of rum poolside for relaxing and a room with a mirror on the ceiling for passion. Hot karaoke nights, cold beer, and new friends.

Their new friends Orfeo and Max, and Max’s sister Talisha, share a troubling secret. Alex and Hunter want to help. As a hurricane bears down on them, a dead body surfaces, and a purple backpack loaded with stolen jewels leads a pair of dangerous men to the island.

Alex would rather poke his own eyes out with a pointy stick than call on his old enemy Nick Truman for help; he’d also do anything to keep Hunter out of danger. But even his nemesis can’t reach them now.

Once again, they only have each other to depend on as their paradise is about to become hell on earth.

 

Hitting Black Ice:heloisewest_hittingblackice

ER physician’s assistant Hunter guards his heart carefully, but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Shawn, the front desk clerk.  He keeps his distance from relationships for a reason, but just can’t help himself when it comes to Shawn.

Shawn is on the run from the law and love to protect himself and anyone else involved. One man is dead because of him, and his life now is simple and easily thrown into a bag at any hint of danger. Until he meets Hunter, and he no longer wants to run.

Forced into a hostage situation, buried passion explodes in the aftermath, and sex in the supply closet brings their hearts back to life. Tentatively, step by step, they begin to explore a relationship together until the past catches up with Shawn.

FBI agent Nick Truman has finally found his man, but when Shawn escapes, he focuses his attention on Hunter. Shawn returns, even though it means sacrificing himself to save Hunter from the man who framed him for murder.

Buy Links:

http://www.loose-id.com/hitting-black-ice.html

http://www.amazon.com/Hitting-Black-Ice-Heloise-West-ebook/dp/B00QJEJ7VO/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-hittingblackice-1689874-340.html

 

About Heloise West:

Heloise West, when not hunched over the keyboard plotting love and mayhem, dreams about moving to a villa in Tuscany. She loves history, mysteries, and romance of all flavors. She travels and gardens with her partner of 10 years, and their home overflows with books, cats, art, and red wine.

Where to find Heloise:

Blogs: https://velvetpanic2.wordpress.com/

Website: http://heloisewest.wix.com/heloisewest

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/heloise.west.1

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/heloisewest/

Email: heloise_67@hotmail.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/velvetpanic

Tumblr: http://heloisewest.tumblr.com/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8188216.Heloise_West


Balancing Act is Official! #LGBT #Gay #Romance

I just signed a contract for Balancing Act with Liquid Silver Books! It feels good to be back in the saddle after a rather long writing hiatus, and I’m trying hard not to let the Samhain news tarnish what is usually one of the greatest highs I know. I’m also plugging along on the new book in my Shooting Stars series starring mega-model Andy (who you’ll meet in BA. By the way, I love shortening Balancing Act to BA. Cracks me up). So far so good with the current WIP. You can check out my Pinterest board for Vic, Andy’s smokin’ hot bad boy bodyguard. I’ll keep adding, so feel free to follow along for more of my inspirational photos. 😉 I think you’re going to love these two and I’ve definitely fallen for them, so that certainly makes the writing easier.

To celebrate BA releasing sometime in the next three/four months, I’ll give you a teaser (unedited, of course)kyrie. 🙂

 

Blurb:

Greg Dwyer and Kyrie Li are living the glorious couple life in New York City. Or are they? When struggling actor Kyrie lands a modeling job, he’s ecstatic to be able to pitch in for his share of the mortgage and to plan a secret birthday vacation for his best-friend-turned-boyfriend.

Of course, Greg is suspicious that Anders Berglund, the gorgeous and androgynous Swedish cover model the designers love to pair with Kyrie, is after his man. And maybe Kyrie is encouraging a growing closeness with the guy.

Greg is probably to blame if Kyrie is drawn to the openly gay and seriously beautiful Andy. With Andy, Kyrie can be himself, as loud and proud as he’s always been. But Greg’s

sexuality stays firmly locked in the closest except for when he’s with Kyrie’s supportive family or alone with the man he loves.

To make matters worse, Greg’s out-of-touch mom meets with financial ruin and moves in with the couple, forcing him into the closet in his own home.

Can Greg find a way to stand up to mommy dearest and win back a love he fought so hard to reach? He discovers the road to pride begins at home, and with accepting oneself first. Otherwise, it’s just a dead-end street.

(NSFW) Excerpt:

Kyrie loved being the seductive bottom; getting Greg all worked up with his teasing and flirting. Backing off while Greg simmered. Then Kyrie would stoke him higher, pressing further until Greg eventually broke and became the domineering top. Usually they let the game go for a while, pushing each other’s buttons in their own drawn-out version of foreplay.

The sliver of pain slicing down Kyrie’s crack paired succulently with the throbbing wood pressed against his lower belly. All signs told him they were going straight to sudden death—no warm up, no scrimmage, just hot, fast action. Game on.

“What’re you gonna do to me?”

“I should make you beg.” Greg grabbed Kyrie’s hard-on with his other hand. “Make you drop on your knees and suck me off. Then get me hard again for your turn.” Kyrie whimpered, his mouth filling with saliva. “Get my cock nice and wet before I feed it to that greedy ass of yours.”

“Yes.” It was a husky wanton word, more moan than speech. Kyrie closed his eyes and in the darkness the scruff he adored grazed his chin and cheeks as Greg’s lips covered his. His tongue split Kyrie’s mouth open, not like he didn’t want it, but the coy act was a tough one to break. Well, Greg broke it. Butchered it. Tenderized Kyrie’s tongue with his own until Kyrie’s thighs quivered and the strip of spandex jammed up his ass became another lover he wanted to hump when his pelvic thrusts pitched him away from the hard slab of man rutting against his front.

Greg cupped Kyrie’s balls again. “Whose are these?”

“Yours.” Kyrie’s breath stuttered while Greg dragged fingers over his cock, a bit hard, a bit rough. Absolutely perfect.

“Whose dick it this?” Greg milked precome from Kyrie like a seasoned farmhand, leaning down to bite Kyrie’s lower lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. Kyrie groaned.

“Yours, Greg.”

“Turn around.” In case Kyrie wasn’t about to follow orders, Greg spun him so his palms slapped the wall, his face pressed to cool paint as Greg slid warm hands up and under Kyr’s mesh top. He pinched his erect nipples, eliciting a gasp, and then stroked Kyrie’s satin-covered dick before heading back toward his waistband. Kyrie braced for another tug upward, but Greg surprised him by yanking his underwear down. The burn on his crack flared and abated, and then Greg’s fingers, slick with spit, were drifting down the cleft and pressing against his hole like a balm.

“Whose tight ass is this, Kyr?”

Jealous horny Greg had to be Kyrie’s favorite sex toy. “It can be yours.”

Greg punished, or maybe rewarded him, with a thick pointer finger piercing him fully, no warning. Kyrie sobbed, cheek hitting the wall. Greg’s mouth found his earlobe, biting, and then licking, his finger fucking Kyrie slowly while the hard cock caged in fine wool mimicked the action against Kyrie’s lower back. “Just mine.” Greg growled against his ear, nipping at the delicate skin below before sucking it into his mouth for a second. “You don’t want me marking you for your photo shoot, you better give me the right answer.”

————–

Yay! Sorry for the HUGE wait on this book. Hopefully it will be worth it! 🙂 By the way, if you haven’t read Hard Act to Follow yet, you might want to get on that since Balancing Act continues with Greg and Kyrie’s story (as well as introduces Andy, who gets the next book).

-Kimber

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Villains with Vaginas

I was on social media the other day (shocking, I know) and stumbled over a thread that piqued my interest. Someone had read a book in which women seemed to be vilified to the point of misogyny. The disappointed reader said it was a theme she’d been running into frequently and numerous other readers chimed in that they had the same issue with MM books. I haven’t read the book in question, so I can’t speak to its content, but women being portrayed negatively in gay romance is hardly a new phenomenon. Readers have been complaining about it for years.

When I first began writing MM, rumblings about women being cast as conniving harpies abounded on review sites–every female in nearly every book was pure evil. Or there were no females in books, in other cases.

Female sorcerer with two troll beasts

Long ago, I vowed to be super conscientious about how my female characters came across. And then I largely washed my hands of the worry. Seriously, I’m the girl who likes to joke that women can’t do X because their vaginas are so cumbersome they get in the way. I used to go to parties in HS to challenge dudes to mercy competitions just to prove what a bad ass I was. Well, and to drink (shot for shot with the guys, of course). Yeah, also to get laid because treating men the way I perceived they’d treated women since the dawn of time–like a piece of meat to be used–was my shtick, I’m rather ashamed to say (they rarely minded, for the record, so I guess I won’t feel too guilty).

My point is, I’m not the girl who thinks women are in any way inferior to men (really–why would any woman think that?). I mean, we squeeze squalling 8 lb beings from our bodies and then we’re like, give me some fucking pizza and let me walk around or I’ll drown you in breast milk. If anything, I’ve got a chip on my shoulder when it comes to how undervalued women are.

Yet, whenever I see these posts, I get paranoid.

I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. I am woman, with better plumbing, carpentry, and electrical skills than most men I know. Hear me roar. I won’t even mention my chest hair (I blame gin).

Oh, but people were complaining about the evil fictional ex-wife! The evil mother-in-law!

Well, I’ve written a character mid-divorce in a nasty custody battle. Yes, his wife came off witchy, but she’d given her best years to a guy and wanted to keep her kid. No, she wasn’t nice to her soon-to-be ex-husband, but I’ve seen more ugly divorces than I can count, and I don’t think a bit of reality is untoward. Guaranteed, if I’d been writing from the ex-wife’s POV, Gio would have looked like a total cobnobbler.

Not that anyone has accused me of defaming women. But the conversation makes me rethink every female character I’ve ever written. Was she too bitter? Did I make all women look bad by writing one woman going through a shitastic stage in her life? Should I never write female characters I wouldn’t want to be friends with IRL? Should I never write a female as an antagonist for fear of being labeled a misogynist?

I have more awesome women than bitchy women in my books, when I do the math. Probably equal amounts antagonistic men to antagonistic women. Realistically, someone needs to be the adversary in contemporary romance.

And then I just wrote a rather unlikable mother-in-law(ish)…

Maybe exes and MILs are overdone at this point. Maybe that’s the problem, in which case, contemporary MM may be overdone too because, well, as I know I’ve complained before, we can’t just pull a (sexless) monster out of our asses to make a villain.

Now, is Greg’s mom in my latest book (Balancing Act~~Coming soon to a website near you! Shameless plug!) absolute evil? No. Not even remotely. Matter of fact, she’s based on a woman I happen to adore. Is she a horse-pill to swallow? Oh, you bet your ass. On the flip side, Kyrie’s mom is a love, she just doesn’t get major screen time in this book. Same for his cool friend, Liv.

Nice can be boring, TBH. Suspense doesn’t come from that totally humorous Comic-Con scene I keep contemplating. A book needs to move forward and then get kicked in the teeth to make it step back. It needs tension. Bad guys and bad girls.

Sigh. No one was complaining about my characters, so I know I shouldn’t get all twitchy about this. And, yes, if I happen to come across a book that makes me think the author hates women, I’ll get way fucking twitchier, but I hate how this conversation makes me think twice about using female characters at all. Much like complaints about authors writing persons of color incorrectly make me nervous about just writing any damn character that comes to mind.

I don’t want to shy away from female characters–or any characters. Occasionally, I even want to write a hard-nosed bitch. Just as sometimes I want to write a psychotic would-be murderer who happens to have a penis. Neither one makes me a misogynist or a misandrist.

I guess I’ll just keep reminding myself of that and follow wherever my characters lead. No fear. After all, they’re in charge–even if that means they come off a little cunty sometimes.

Hey, don’t we all?

-Kimber

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The Gazillionaire & the Virgin #Giveaway #BDSM

 

Today I have the lovely Lisabet Sarai stopping by with info on her new release, The Gazillionaire & the Virgin. To celebrate her book tour, Lisabet has a couple of giveaways, so read on for a sample of her refreshing role-reversal BDSM romance, and to learn how to be in the running for a $50 gift card or a paperback copy of The Gazillionaire & the Virgin!

—————–

Letting My Characters Lead

By Lisabet Sarai

On the plotter versus pantser dimension, I usually lean more toward plotting. I don’t do really detailed outlines or character sketches before I begin a book, but normally I have a pretty clear idea of the story arc. Often I will create a scene list. In particular, I know how I want the book to end. The process of writing is something like directing a film, as I walk the characters through the scenes, moving them in the direction of the climax and resolution.

The Gazillionaire and the Virgin was different. This was the first novel I’ve written using the Character-driven Random Walk Method. When I began writing, all I had was a title and the two main characters (reflected in the title), Rachel and Theo. I really had no idea what they’d do, other than having sex and falling in love.

I did know this was going to be an erotic romance. In fact, although the book deliberately shreds romance stereotypes, it preserves the essential core of romance, namely, the characters’ journey toward a loving relationship. So I understood there had to be obstacles or conflicts that would stand in the way of the happy ending. At the start, though, I couldn’t have told you the nature of those obstacles. I didn’t plan. I didn’t outline. That’s not like me at all! I simply sat down at my computer, invoked Rachel and Theo, and let them interact. At each point in the plot, the focus character in some sense decided what would happen next.

I’d expected the book would be 20K at most. As I let Rachel and Theo lead me deeper into their story, I discovered I was wrong. They did not want to be rushed. It took four chapters for them to get to their first erotic encounter. The revelation that they shared kinky interests took another four. By the time I reached the book’s climax, the events that tear them apart, I had more or less figured out how they’d reconcile, but I couldn’t make them follow my script. Theo turned out to be far more stubborn than I would have guessed. Fortunately, Rachel’s imagination came to the rescue. Still, every time I sat down to write what I thought would be the final chapter, I’d come to realize there was yet another one needed.

When I finally wrote “The End”, I was seriously relieved. I wasn’t sure Rachel and Theo would ever let me finish their story!

I know a lot of authors always write this way. Some of my writer friends talk about hearing voices in their heads. For me, though, this was a new experience—alternately fulfilling and frustrating. I have to admit that I am really pleased with the result. I hope readers will be, too.

~ ~ ~

This post is part of my Gazillionaire and Virgin blog tour, running from February 1st to 15th. Leave me a comment on this post, including your email address, and I’ll enter you to win a $50 bookstore gift certificate (first prize) or a print copy of the new book (second prize). Visit all the stops for more chances to win. You’ll find the full list here: http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2016/01/blog-tour.html

TheGazillionaireAndTheVirgin_400

Trust can’t be bought—it has to be earned.

Blurb:

When Silicon Valley entrepreneur Rachel Zelinsky meets reclusive genius Theo Moore, she finds him strangely compelling. Theo is both arrogant and socially awkward, but he has an aura of power that speaks to Rachel’s carefully-hidden submissive side. Disturbed and aroused, she tries to focus on her original objective—a deal to incorporate his Artificial Intelligence software into her company’s popular virtual world. Rachel’s not a woman who lets pleasure interfere with business, but for some reason, she can’t resist Theo’s geeky appeal.

Theo Moore can’t be bought. His past battles with poverty make him deeply suspicious of the billionaire CEO. Still, with her voluptuous curves and brilliant mind, Rachel embodies his ultimate sexual fantasy. Too bad his knowledge about sex derives from

extensive research and a stash of kinky porn rather than real-world experience.

That doesn’t bother Rachel, however. In his bed—in his arms—in his bonds—she discovers the bliss of total surrender. Rachel may be Theo’s first lover, but Theo is Rachel’s first true Master—and the first man to truly touch her heart. It seems that love may harmonize their differing goals and values, until Rachel’s unwitting violation of Theo’s trust threatens to tear them apart forever.

Excerpt:

It won’t go away. All through the day—every day—need gnaws at my spirit. Whether I’m reading my email, meeting with my board of directors, preparing a presentation, closing a deal to acquire a promising start-up, discussing deployment of the next release with my engineering managers, I can’t shake the sense that something critical is missing. In yoga class, the aching knot just above my solar plexus doesn’t unwind, no matter how deeply I breathe. Driving to work, I have to force myself to pay attention. Otherwise, I drift off into recollections of my time with Theo—what he did, what he said, how I responded.

I miss him, miss him dreadfully, though it’s been only four days since we were last together. We’ve Skyped every night since the weekend, but somehow that only makes the hunger worse. When I see him there on my screen, grainy and over-exposed, all I want is to touch him—to brush the unruly hair off his forehead, to stroke his cheek, to trace the line of his plump, sensitive lips with my thumb. To offer up my own mouth for him to claim it, tear off my blouse and press my tits against his solid chest, sink to my knees and beg him to take me.

I’d be more than willing to strip and perform for him, to act out whatever lewd actions he ordered, but he refuses to become involved in any sort of phone or cyber-sex. “Everyone’s listening in,” he asserts. “The government. The neighbors. What you and I do should be private.” So we chat about safe topics—our work, what we’ve been reading, where we should go for dinner next weekend. All the while, lust burns in those bright eyes of his. I know what he’s thinking. I’m thinking the same thing.

I’m not expecting him to call Thursday afternoon. The trill of my phone interrupts me as I’m giving Diane instructions for tomorrow. Still, the sound of his voice kindles a warm joy in the pit of my stomach as well as a wetness between my legs.

“Hello. Rachel?”

“Hi, Theo. What’s up?”

“I want you to come early tomorrow. Around noon.”

“I—um—I really can’t. I’ve got an all-day meeting up in San Francisco, some investors from India.”

“Cancel it.”

“What? I can’t do that. These guys have come half-way around the world to talk to me about a franchise deal. Think of the potential profit! More than a billion people, a soaring GDP, and Internet growth that’s doubling every year…”

It’s the wrong thing to say. I realize this the moment the statement’s out of my mouth.

“So you care more about money than about me.” Not a whining complaint, but a dry statement of the facts, at least as Theo sees them.

“No, of course not, but I can’t put my personal life above my business…”

“You should.” I can picture his face, the stubborn set of his jaw as he retreats, distancing himself from me. “But never mind. Of course you’re too busy. I should have expected that.”

“Wait! Wait, don’t hang up, Theo.” I struggle to keep him engaged. “What’s so important about tomorrow noon?”

“I want you to meet my sister. Ellen. She’s free for lunch tomorrow.”

“Can’t we do it Saturday?”

“She’s flying to Jamaica for a two week vacation with her partner Saturday morning.”

“What about when she gets back?”

“She doesn’t want to leave without talking to you. She says she’s worried about me, worried about our relationship. She’s afraid you’ll hurt me, break my heart.”

I’d never hurt you, I almost say, then understand I’m doing so at that very moment. And it feels horrible, like a knife twisting in my gut.

—————–

Links (Print coming soon!)

Amazon US

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01B76B95K/

Amazon UK

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01B76B95K/

Barnes & Noble

All Romance

Kobo

Goodreads

—————-

About Lisabet

LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website, along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance, she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

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Keeping it Real #amwriting

So, I’m finally nearing the end of my self-edit for Balancing Act. I know I’m suuuuuuper slow, but I like to fool myself into thinking that means it will be better than if I was suuuuuper fast. Right? Here’s to hoping.

Anyway, I’ve been stalled on plans for the next book for a long time now. I’ve got an idea of what will happen–I know Andy’s story fairly well, but this entire time I’ve been dreading writing it because I think it will be hard. Like, really hard. I haven’t been able to plan a love story, because all I can see is darkness. I couldn’t visualize the happy times amid all the issues. Until a few days ago, when I finally got a solid mental picture of my other MC and it all clicked.

I know it will still be hard.

Image courtesy of kangshutters at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image courtesy of kangshutters at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Andy has baggage, so this book can’t be a walk in the park. I mean, even with that fancy wheeled luggage, he can’t drag it behind him for a stroll around the grounds– not without sore arms and a twinge in his back. Not without mud puddles and dive-bombing pigeons, stray baseballs and rude joggers throwing monkey wrenches at every turn. Hell, I’d just stay home with all my baggage and save myself the trouble.

But it MUST be a walk in the park! It’s a romance, dammit! That’s what I do! No matter how tough my characters have it (and they MUST have it tough, because they are meant to be real–they’re real in my head and I need them real in my readers’ hearts and the only way for that to work is for my guys to bleed), they still deserve the rainbows and cooing doves and ice cream sundaes.

Well, I figured it out (safe for me to say from the only outlining stage). Life isn’t sunshine and roses for any of us, but if we have someone who loves us unconditionally, who wants to make every moment sunbeams and park walks and flowers, well, it will be. Eventually. Certainly some of the time. And hauling all that baggage is easier with an extra set of arms (especially an extremely diesel set of tattooed arms–yes, I’m getting excited about this character. Suffice it to say, I’m having good times on Pinterest fleshing this guy out).

Anyway, all those rough spots will only make the good times better, the rainbows brighter, and the romance sweeter. At least, that’s what I’m banking on.

-Kimber

 

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