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Thursday, March 27, 2014

Book Tour: Doctor How and the Illegal Aliens by Mark Speed #doctorwho #SciFi #Giveaway




If you're a Dr Who fan like I am, you'll love Doctor How and the Illegal Aliens by Mark Speed. Enjoy the excerpt and don't forget to enter the rafflecopter giveaway below the post. One randomly chosen commenter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.

Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: 








Doctor How and the Illegal Aliens
by Mark Speed

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:



Doctor How’s famous megalomaniac brother Doctor Who sold his fictional life story to the BBC half a century ago, painting himself as a lone hero. Disillusioned, their four cousins dropped out. For fifty years, Doctor How has held the line against the forces of darkness and stupidity. And he’s not that happy, since you ask.

Illegal aliens try to hack How’s Spectrel (TARDIS is a very rude word where he comes from), just as he suspects his estranged cousin Where has been compromised. When reports come in of mysterious attacks by alien creatures, Doctor How has to rely on his new companion Kevin, a petty criminal from south London, and Trinity, a morphing super-predator, as he counters this threat to humanity’s existence. Bungling agents from MI16, long desperate to capture the Time Keeper’s technology, hamper How’s efforts to combat the alien menace. Can Doctor How keep ahead of MI16, save Where and combat the alien threat?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Excerpt One:

“So is that your –”

“No it’s not my TARDIS, Kevin!” hissed Doctor How. “That’s a misnomer.”

“A?”

“A misnomer.” Kevin looked at him blankly. “It means wrong name. It’s a misnomer put out by the BBC. TARDIS is actually a very rude word in my native language and nearly one in yours if you changed the ‘a’ for a ‘u’. A certain someone who will remain nameless thought it would be terribly amusing. According to the BBC, TARDIS is supposed to mean Time And Relative Dimension In Space.” The Doctor was now ranting wildly. “Can you believe the sheer gall of these people? Like they actually know, like they understand how the physics works?” The Doctor glared at Kevin, who shook his head.

“Let me tell you what it’s like. It’s like a troop of monkeys – and I mean monkeys, like baboons; not chimpanzees, not even apes – coming up to your very sophisticated saloon car with individual climate-control for each passenger, and a hi-fi system that would fool a bat. As you drive your state-of-the-art car through a safari park this troop of purple-bottomed baboons comes up to your car and calls it “Oog”. And then – and then – then they have the cheek to first of all capitalise the entire thing, so it’s not Tardis, it’s T-A-R-D-I-S, just to spell out the first letters of exactly what these monkeys think the physics is that they can’t even begin to comprehend. And after that they march down to another baboon who calls himself a lawyer and they register it as a trademark. So if I wanted to write my own biography, my autobiography, and I wanted the boneheaded human reader to understand the concept by way of using the word TARDIS, some baboon with a Technicolor™ bottom specialising in intellectual property law could demand money with menaces through the good courts of baboon society. And this,” spluttered the Doctor, “And all this after I saved your – forgive my crude colloquialism here – after I have saved your sorry collective Technicolor™ asses on more occasions than I can care to remember.”

Silence hung in the air. The Doctor was breathing deeply.

“You has got issues, innit?” said Kevin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~



AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Mark Speed has been writing novels since he was fifteen. His comedy writing has appeared in newspapers as diverse as the London Evening Standard and The Sun, and been broadcast on BBC Radio 4 Extra. He performed his solo comedy, The End of the World Show, at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2011 and 2012. He is currently working on the five-volume Doctor How series.


Amongst other postgraduate and professional qualifications, he has a Master’s degree in Creative Writing from City University, London. In 1995 a chiropractor told him he’d never run again. Sensibly, he gave up chiropractors, runs every day and has completed several marathons and a couple of Olympic-length triathlons.

NLP founder Dr Richard Bandler called him a ‘polarity responder’.


Links:

@doctorhow_tv


a Rafflecopter giveaway


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Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Book Spotlight * The Orchard: Claim Me by Mackenzie Williams #BDSM #EroticRomance



I'm excited to welcome author Mackenzie Williams. Mackenzie is sharing an excerpt from her steamy BDSM erotic romance The Orchard: Claim Me. Enjoy!

Hi Mackenzie! Can you tell us a little about yourself before I get out the ice water and fans.


Hi everyone! I am a small town girl from Iowa. I grew up in a large family with four brothers. After high school, I went to college and studied Education. I found my future husband there and we were married soon after graduation.


I started writing in the Erotic Romance genre because these are the types of stories I like to read myself. They are exciting and emotional. When I'm not writing I like to turn my brain off and listen to music or watch movies.


You can find me on Facebook at: www.facebook.com/mackenziewilliams.author


Blurb
Kellie has come to The Orchard, a BDSM club, to find a little adventure. She gets that and much more when she is paired with Master Jesse. Kellie soon realizes that she not only wants this Dom to claim her as his own, she needs it.
Master Jesse is just looking for fun with this new sub. After the last catastrophe, he promised himself he would never take a sub on long-term. His new little one takes him off guard, however. Master Jesse finds himself attached, whether he likes it or not. Can he continue to fight himself and release Kellie?
The Orchard holds parties. Some are planned out and others are casual but all are BDSM. The more parties that Master Jesse brings Kellie to, the harder it is to let her go. He can see that Kellie desperately wants to be necklaced, a sign at The Orchard that a sub is owned. Master Jesse just can't bring himself to give his necklace away, again.

 
Buy Links

Excerpt
How his body responds to me? What was coming next? Kellie had just started feeling comfortable sitting on Master Jesse’s lap. Yes, he was demanding and controlling but she could tell that he had a real concern for her. He wanted her to feel safe, and that made her want to open up more of herself to him.

“I’m sure you have noticed that you turn me on enough to make me hard. However, is there something here that will make this enjoyable for me? I need more than just an erection for this to work.”

This statement made Kellie feel a little strange. She felt like she wanted to prove herself. She felt like she didn’t want to disappoint this man.

“Now that you have had a water break and rest, I think we should move on to the second part of the Selection Party. How well do you take directions? 

Remember you have a safe word if needed. Do you remember what it is?”

“Core, Sir.”

“Very good. I really enjoy hearing ‘Sir’ come out of that pretty little mouth.” 

Master Jesse had a huge grin on his face. His blue eyes seemed to be slightly darker than before. Just this look was making Kellie’s insides start to heat up.
“Get on your knees in front of me,” Master Jesse said in a sexy as sin voice.
Kellie just stared at him. It felt like her brain wasn’t connected to her body. He slapped her on her thigh. Not overly painful but hard enough that there was a slight sting. It was enough to wake up her brain.

“Sub, comply or use your safe word.”

Kellie scrambled off his lap and onto her knees ungracefully. She wasn’t sure if she should look down or not. He hadn’t said slave position so maybe he wanted her to look up at him. Her dark eyes locked on his.

“Nice. You do look sweet on your knees. Undo my belt and pants.” He leaned back to give her easier access.

Kellie’s eyes got larger. She didn’t want to make him upset again so she quickly started on his belt. Her fingers were fumbling with the dark leather and metal. After a few seconds, the belt was undone and his pants were open. She could see that he wore no underwear under the black dress pants. His dick was semihard laying slightly to the right just under a small dark patch of hair. Even in this semierect state she could tell that he should be proud of his penis. It already seemed larger than the few she had seen in her life.

“Pull my pants down,” Master Jesse said in a slow, low voice. He seemed to be struggling to control himself. His jaw muscles were tense. He lifted his body off the couch a few inches so Kellie could pull the slacks off his hips. She then pulled his pants down so they were bunched around his ankles. She had the urge to run her hands up his lean muscled thighs but she waited to see what he wanted next.

Master Jesse leaned forward just enough to pull his shirt off and tossed it carelessly to the floor.

“Good, now take me into your hands and see if you can get me harder.”

Kellie looked at his cock then to his face. Damn, he looked so sexy leaned back, dick out, eyes bright with anticipation. She nervously flexed her fingers then reached for him. At first her hands seemed unsure but once they felt the warmth coming off his body they relaxed. She grabbed his cock and started to rub it up and down. Slow. He started to get stiffer. She increased her speed and Master Jesse let out a long stifled breath. Oh, he felt very hard now and she could see a little drop of clear liquid forming at the tip. His dick was now standing at full attention and it felt good in her hands.

“Little one, you look hungry.”

His voice sent a flare of heat to her pussy and her muscles clinched. It felt wet and empty. Kellie felt so powerful in this moment even though she was on her knees before a man. She knew that she had the power to make him feel pleasure. He wanted her mouth and she wanted to give it to him. Let him see how he could enjoy her. She bent closer and licked the tip of his penis. She could taste his drops of arousal and they just made her pussy ache more. 

Master Jesse hissed through his teeth. Oh, yeah she felt powerful right now.

“Don’t tease me. Take me in that pretty little mouth. I want to see your lips wrapped around me.”



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Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Release Blitz: Miss Redmond's Deception by @Sandra_Cox #historical #SweetRomance




Miss Redmond's Deception by Sandra Cox

Blurb: 

When Captain Richard Greyston encounters three figures in a graveyard, he takes them for a spectral visitation until he realizes it is two young ladies—in their nightgowns, no less—and their spinsterish companion. A spinster with slender limbs and an enchantingly velvety voice.

Pembra doesn’t care a whit for the captain’s opinion of her, even after circumstances force them into a sham betrothal. But when a gypsy warns her that his life hangs in the balance, she begins to realize that her heart is not so uninvolved as she might like to pretend.

Buy links:

http://www.ellorascave.com/miss-redmond-s-deception.html

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00GGMWAHC/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00GGMWAHC&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelt-20

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00GGMWAHC/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B00GGMWAHC&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelthouse-21

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/miss-redmonds-deception-sandra-cox/1117433056?ean=9781419948565

Excerpt: 

“Where’s everyone going?”  she muttered. Her curiosity aroused, Pembra slipped out the door behind her sisters, keeping the spectral white nightgowns in sight as she stayed in the shadows. Her heart gave a hard ka-thump at the nearby screech of an owl. Ignoring it, she kept going.  

What are they up to? Pembra watched Sabrina follow Emma, who followed Betsy. 

The maid turned off the path into the small graveyard located behind the rectory. She forgot to watch Betsy as she stared in astonishment at Emma sinking behind a large tombstone, like a specter sinking into the grave, while Sabrina crept up behind her. 

Pembra tiptoed closer until she heard subdued voices. She braced her hands against the rough bark of an oak. Hidden, she leaned forward to hear. 

 “Emma what are you doing here?” Sabrina demanded.

Emma clamped a hand over her own mouth, muffling her shriek. “What are you doing here?” she hissed back.

“Following you.”

“Gosh, you scared me.” Emma pulled Sabrina down beside her.

“At the risk of being repetitive, what are you doing here?”

“Following Betsy. You’ll never believe it, but she’s out there with Adolphus Webster.” 

 “The rector’s son?” Sabrina gasped in shock. “Surely you’re mistaken. That platter-faced prig wouldn’t have the nerve to meet anyone.”

 “Oh, no? Well just take a look at that. Meeting is hardly the word for what’s going on.” Emma giggled.

“Oh my.” Sabrina clapped her hand over Emma’s eyes while peeking over the top of the tombstone.

“Hey, move your hand.” Emma wiggled trying to dislodge her disobliging sister’s fingers.

“You are much too young to witness such disreputable behavior,” her sibling scolded.

“Yes, and you are so much more worldly,” Emma grumbled, as she pried away Sabrina’s fingers.

 “Well, I’m worldly enough to know if Pembra finds out about this, its curtains for Betsy,” Sabrina replied, indignant.

The girls—so awake to the carnal pursuits under the maple tree—were paying not the least attention to their immediate surroundings.

Pembra stepped out from her hiding place. “If Pembra finds out about what?” 
“Eeekk.” Both girls screeched and jumped up in fright.


~*~

It was unfortunate indeed that Captain the Honorable Richard Greyston, late of the Household Brigade,  grandson and only heir of the fifth Earl of Meade, had taken a wrong turn and was cantering by on his temperamental stallion, when the girls rose shrieking from behind the tombstone.

 “Bloody hell,” floated on the clear night air as Greyston fought to get his mount under control, not quite believing what he was seeing as three ghostly apparitions stared at him from behind an ancient funerary marker.

When his mount Doondiah was quieted down, Greyston unobtrusively drew a pistol from an inside pocket of his great coat.  Nudging the stallion with his knees, he approached cautiously. Though, damned if he knew what good a pistol would be against a ghost, much less three.

Greyston gave a snort of disgust as he drew nearer and saw that his ghostly apparitions were only girls, at least the two clutching each other were. The third was definitely an old maid wearing a ridiculous mobcap, pulled down nearly to her thick spectacles, and a night rail that had enough material in it to serve as an army tent.

 “You damn fool,” he told his horse succinctly.

“That will be enough of that language in front of innocent young females, sir,” the old maid snapped, stepping forward.

Spoken like a true spinster.  He sighed inwardly. But ye gods, the voice. Velvety as night. Low and smoky as sin. A nightingale sound that conjured up forbidden delights. If his mistress had a voice like that he’d never leave her side. A lot could be forgiven resonance like that even if it came from a dried up old spinster.

He moderated his cutting rejoinder to a mild, “Madam, what are you doing out here?”

BIO: 

Multi-published author Sandra Cox writes Crossover YA, YA Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Time Travel Romance and Metaphysical Nonfiction. She lives in sunny North Carolina with her husband, a brood of critters and an occasional foster cat. Although shopping is high on the list, her greatest pleasure is sitting on her porch, listening to the birds, sipping coffee and enjoying a good book. She's a vegetarian and has a yellow belt in Muay Thai.

LINKS:

http://www.sandracox.blogspot.com

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/Sandra_Cox

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SandraCox.Author





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Monday, March 24, 2014

The Kismet Blog Tour with Lillian McKinnon #YA #Author #Interview #FundRaiser


Today's post and interview is very special. Lillian McKinnon, an amazing young writer, is visiting as part of her blog tour for her free online serial, Kismet.

Lillian McKinnon is the pen name for a rather sassy not quite 13 year old home educated girl who lives and plays in the Northwest region of England. She doesn't like being told she can't do things because she's a kid, and woe betide you if it's because she's a girl. She's active in Scouts and is avid about karate. She also enjoys long bike rides, photography, kayaking, abseiling, canoeing, swimming, and  is somewhat of an artist. She probably reads far too much, with bookcases full of novels and manga, a Kindle with an ever growing library, and online serials she avidly follows. She also has a fondness for vintage American sitcoms and modern sci fi and fantasy TV shows. When not reading, doing her educational assignments, writing, or indulging in her other hobbies, she spend time gaming with her younger brother, as long as he's not annoyed her too much that day. Skill she would most like to learn next: surfing.




Welcome Lillian! Tell us a little bit about yourself.

Well, I'd like to thank you for having me. I see a lot of authors pass by here. Wow. Anyways, I'm 12 ½ and live in Northwest England. I love going to Chinatown in Birmingham and hanging out at the docks at Liverpool, and I really, really, love Moose Coffee. That's not made out of moose though. It's a Canadian/American coffee shop and cafe with their own special blend of coffee. They decorate the whole place in moose. They have ridiculously great formal oil portraits of moose people even. Dang, now I want to go on the train and have a Reubens sandwich and a Moose coffee.

What are your favorite subjects in school and why?

I'm home educated, just to get that bit of information out of the way. My favourite subjects are art, creative writing, and German. I love to draw, and I write my books and stories which are being counted as my creative writing, and I just started German and love it. My least favorite is math. It was okay ntil all the keyboard slaps invaded the regular numbers. My grandfather is a mathematician though, so I have to do well. Ugh.

When you start a book, do you already have the whole story in your head or do you just start writing and see what happens?

A little of both. I'll get an idea, and I know how it's going to end, but the characters end up taking on a life of their own and the road trip between start and finish is anything but decided until it gets written down as it goes along.
Why did you choose to write M/M stories ?
Because why not? My brother is gay, and often feels left out as there aren't a lot of stories about boys like him yet. So when the characters come along and fall for another boy, I say let's get that tale told.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

Everyone is different. That is what's normal. Celebrate our diversity, don't hide it. Also, love is beautiful and something to be treasured. Don't be ashamed of loving another person.

What bores you in a book?

Ridiculously excessive amounts of unneeded exposition, especially about clothes, make up, what car some guy drives, wondering if they look fat, obsessively wondering if the guy has noticed their existence, going on and on about place mats and other home decor, and other belly button gazing, trivial nonsense. Oh, and adding fairy dust to perfectly good vampires.



What would readers find different about the first book you've written and this one?

Well, A Life in Frames is a full length novel about a girl who's brother comes out, and how that shapes her understanding of her own sexuality. It follows the girl, her brother, and their BFF as they look for love, and the funny stuff that happens as they try to get noticed. It takes place in contemporary Britain, in the general area where I live.
Kismet is a serial style, and it is a contemporary fantasy mash up of Japanese, Greek, and European folklore. It follows the efforts of the Three Fates who try to preserve the balance of magic in the world by tying together a red thread of fate between a young nine tailed fox who is the last of his clan and a dryad whose tree happens to be in the National Redwood Forest.
They are two different genres, but carry a lot of the same messages about being yourself, finding and accepting love, and the truer meaning of family. Kismet also deals with bullying, which is a real problem.

How did you come up with the titles?

Well, A Life In Frames is a refernce to the main character's love of photography, and her penchant for taking photos of everyone and everything around her. Kismet is actually named after Uncle Cody's parrot. I took the name and ran with it, as it means “fate”. Hence the Three Fates, the name of the two magical trees, the red thread, etc.

How do you celebrate completing a new book/chapter?


I take a long nap. No, really. I often stay up late writing and drawing things relating to my stories, and end up running on cups of hot chocolate, English tea, chai lattes, hoji cha lattes, and mochacinos.So when I hit a ending spot, my brain gets quiet enough that I can get some decent sleep. And boy, do I sleep.

What do you find to be the most difficult part of writing?

The plot ideas just come along. The writing usually flows and the characters come alive and just yak yak yak away, and I write it all down. The editing really bites though. Worst bit is all those words ending in -ly. It seems impossible to write naturally without using them in every sentence. See, look there. An -ly crept in. Anyway, finding an excessive amount of them, especially if it turns out to be the same one over and ever again, is horrible. Having to think of alternate words and phrasing that while maintaining voice is enough to send me screaming for chocolate and Krispy Kreme donuts.

Do you see writing as a possible career?

Are you asking if I see myself as a “real” writer? I may be young, but this is more than a hobby. I see it as perfecting a craft as much as I do my art lessons, and yes, I intend to write and use my skills as an artist and photographer to earn my living. Once Frames sees print, I'll hopefully join the ranks of paid, professional writers. The money will mostly go towards my further education, though some will also go to charity. I hope to eventually make a living wage by creating book covers and illustrating children's books as well as writing novels.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




Kismet is a free read, so rather than have the usual buy links up, below you'll find two fund raiser links. One is for a homeless youth charity called Lost-N-Found Youth. Not every kid is lucky enough enough to have the support of a loving family, and LGBT youth are much more likely to face abuse and being kicked out on the streets. Lost-N- Found not only help youth out by providing shelter for as many as they can, but help youth get back into education and into society as contributing members. They also provide legal assistance where necessary, food, clothes, and so much more.

The other link is for a couple who are writers in the LGBT romance genre. Following emergency brain surgery, TJ and Eric have been traveling a long, hard and expensive road. Things are beginning to look up, with Eric soon to come home to TJ and their new home. They could still use the help and continued support of caring people though. I ask that those of you following the blog tour please consider contributing an amount to at least one of these causes, no matter how small or insignificant you feel that donation would be. Pennies all add up into dollars, after all.


Thank you,
Lillian McKinnon

http://lostnfoundyouth.org/support-us/donate/
http://www.youcaring.com/medical-fundraiser/eric-arvin-support-fund/116877




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Saturday, March 22, 2014

Release Day! Mace #MM #Shifters @sirenbookstrand




It's Release Day! and Mace (Hybrids 2) is at #22 on Siren's top 50. Here's the blurb. You can read excerpts and get a 10% New Release discount at Bookstrand.

Word Count: 30,109
Heat Level:
SEXTREME
Published By:
Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Paranormal Romance, M/M, shape-shifters, HEA]

In a secret military complex, a scientist uses genetic engineering to spawn a new breed of humans who can shape-shift into animals. One-nineteen, a bat hybrid, longs for his freedom, but when he finally gets a chance to try his wings, he's afraid of getting caught and hides in an underground cave.


Brad Walsh is an experienced caver, but an accident leaves him trapped underground. Rescue comes in the form of a shy stranger, who calls himself Mace. Brad invites Mace into his home—and his bed. But he has no idea that his virgin lover is a shape-shifter who's on the government's most wanted list.


For the first time in his life, Mace knows what it feels like to have someone care about him, but staying with Brad is out of the question.


Available at Bookstrand:



Happy Reading!


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Friday, March 21, 2014

The Romance Reviews 3rd Anniversary Party! @TRRtweet


The Romance Reviews 3rd Anniversary Party is going on right now. There are more than 450 participating authors and publishers, and more than 450 prizes up for grabs during the whole month of March. The Grand prize is a $100 Gift Certificate!


I'm excited to be part of the fun. My Q&A will be displayed on the Party Event Page tomorrow, March 22 2014. Just answer an easy true or false question for a chance to win an ebook. The fun starts here.



Hope to see you there!


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Thursday, March 20, 2014

Release Blitz: Exposing Ellen @skylarkade #FF #erotic #romance


Exposing Ellen by Skylar Kade

BLURB

Ellen Porter is a stranger to the single life--as much a stranger as she is to facing her same-sex desires. The recent divorcee, desperate to prove that her attraction to women is just a phase, enlists the help of Madame Eve for one night of “getting it out of her system.”

Aimee Tran has had enough of the Los Angeles bar-hopping scene. In pursuit of a genuine romantic connection, she discovers Madame Eve and decides that maybe, just maybe, a one-night stand will tide her over until she finds The One.

Neither woman expects lust to burn down their preconceived notions—or to crave more than one desperate tryst.

BUY LINKS







AUTHOR BIO

Skylar Kade, self-avowed hedonist and princess extraordinaire, started her writing career after throwing aside yet another romance she could not bring herself to finish. The run-on sentences! The purple prose! Oh, the horror of it was just too much. So she sat down to write her own tale. Her favorite part about writing is the extensive research.

She currently resides in sunny southern California, alternately cursing the polluted air and adoring the weather. Skylar spends her time asking the cabana boys to bring her more mimosas and feed her strawberries while she dreams up her next naughty adventure.

She blogs at the SkylarVerse and with the Nine Naughty Novelists.

AUTHOR LINKS




EXCERPT

“I....” She shook her head, terrified of the eagerness building inside her. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” she eventually whispered. “I’m sorry. Contacting 1NightStand was a bad idea, not fair to you at all.” Paolo might have been right. Her broken marriage was her fault.

She moved out of the balcony doorway but gentle fingers settled on her shoulders. “Not so fast, hon.” Aimee’s voice pitched low. “It’s not like I know what I’m doing either. I’ve never called up Madame Eve before.”

Ellen stared out over the ocean, where her date’s beauty didn’t distract her and she didn’t have to see the condemnation in Aimee’s eyes. “It’s more than being new to a dating service.” She paused and swallowed around her embarrassment. Neither in her mother’s house nor her husband’s had she been encouraged to talk about intimate issues. She hadn’t even heard certain anatomical euphemisms spoken out loud until her husband’s mistress ended up in their bed. Still, she forged on—Aimee deserved an explanation. “I’ve only been with a woman once, kind of. You obviously know what you’re doing and it’s not fair to you to be stuck for a night with someone who—”

Aimee spun her around, pulled her close, and twisted her fingers through Ellen’s hair. “Am I imagining your arousal?”

Oh, Lord. Her lips parted. The other woman stood so near. Her tongue flicked across Ellen’s lips and she bit off a moan. “I—”

Aimee pressed closer until their breasts squished together. One of her legs slid between Ellen’s. “Am I imagining your little gasps of pleasure? Of desire?” She bit Ellen’s earlobe. “If I am, tell me to leave. Because, honey, right now your inexperience is turning me on.”


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Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Book Blast: Patriot Priest by Patricia Daly-Lipe #GoddessFishPromotions #Giveaway


 
 




This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Patricia will be awarding a $25 Amazon gift card to one randomly drawn commenter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour. Remember, the more you comment, the better your chances to win.



Patriot Priest tells one man's personal experience over several epochs and areas of history. It is also, in part the story of one unique individual, author Patricia Daly-Lipe's great uncle, Msgr. William A Hemmick. Born in Pittsburgh, PA, and raised in Europe, he became fluent in five languages. When the First World War broke out, he felt committed to help the troops. After the war, he was proclaimed the Patriot Priest of Picardy by the Army and Navy. After years spent in Paris, William Hemmick was asked by the Vatican to come to Rome. Ultimately he became the only American Canon of St. Peter's representing the Knights of Malta to the Holy See.



It was he who performed the nuptials of American film star Tyrone Power and Linda Christian. He also converted the future Queen Astrid of Belgium.




Enjoy this excerpt:



In 1944, when the bombers of the 8th Air Force were attacking synthetic fuel plants, another German wrote, as a boy, that despite the raids by American bombers,

We Germans never feared the Americans. When the Americans arrived, "the soldiers were friendly and approachable. Their generosity toward children was constant." But all too soon, the Americans pulled out. It was now the Russian troops taking over occupation of East Germany. "We feared the Russians," he wrote. And, although the officers were European, in the beginning, the troops were Asian. Soon, however, the Asians left and just the Europeans remained. "The Russian soldiers (and the Asians when they were there) … were especially dangerous if they had been drinking. Since they were nearly always armed, alcohol made all of the Russians very dangerous.



This was what the children in Germany were subjected to after the war ended: irrational and often brutal behavior. Daily, the children lived under agonizing situations including hunger, cold, and fright. Yet they had resilience. Reading their stories in Wolfgang W. E. Samuel's book, The War of Our Childhood, Memories of World War II, it is awe-inspiring how that generation of German children was able to emerge from such debilitating conditions and become sane and productive human beings as adults.



Twenty-five years after the end of World War II, Adam B. Ulam wrote: "A study of the history of the past twenty-five years …can suggest which of our hopes and fears are realistic and which are not …" (Ulam's preface to The Rivals, America & Russia Since World War II) Although today (2013) the Cold War (the theme of his book) is over, the fear of a global conflict still exists. My point is that the past, and our understanding of it, enhances our ability to understand the present. Today's events take on a new interpretation in light of what came before This is what is known as historical process. This is not a search for answers; it is a search for perspective and questions. Your perspective is formed according to your source of reference: the scholar, the statesman, the politician, the military, the businessman, or, in this case, the life and time of William A. Hemmick [or my interpretation resulting from extensive research.]



In 1953, in predominance was the Soviet-U.S conflict. Some said it was not an isolated moment in history, but a natural evolution of a struggle that began in the past as we saw with Germany. Nations seeking power fall in competition for prestige and security, sea lanes and natural resources, markets and even empires. And so, some asserted in the fifties, it was precisely in this context that the Soviet Union justified its position. George F. Kennan, Secretary of the American Embassy in Moscow in the middle thirties, wrote in an article for Foreign Affairs (The Source of Soviet Conduct, 1947).



About the Author:

Dr. Patricia Daly-Lipe, is an Author and Artist. She has written six books, all different genres. She is winner of the San Diego Book Awards, Best Books Finalist, the JADA Novel Contest, USABookNews.com Finalist, 2009 2nd place in poetry by the Virginia Writers Club, Inc, and 2013 winner in historical fiction at the Annual Royal Dragonfly Book Awards for 'A CRUEL CALM, Paris Between the Wars and 2013 winner for her short story by the Virfginia Writers Assn.



Although born in La Jolla, California, Patricia spent equal time in Washington, D.C., home of several generations of her mother’s family.



She has taught at colleges and writing centers, written for magazines and newspapers (including the Evening Star in Washington, DC, La Jolla Village News, The Georgetowner andUptowner), and her paintings have been accepted and sold in Juried shows, art galleries, and private homes. Two of her books feature her paintings on their covers.
Patricia served as President of both the La Jolla and DC Branches of the National League of American Pen Women.
Patricia now lives in Virginia with her husband, Dr. Steele Lipe, three dogs, three horses, and two cats. For years, Patricia raised, raced, and showed Thoroughbred horses. Now she rescues them. She is the mother of three and grandmother of six children.



Buy the book at Amazon.




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Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Relaunch: The Initiation of Ms Holly @kd_grace #BDSM #erotic #romance.


The Initiation of Ms Holly by K D Grace – Relaunched!

February is the official re-launch for The Initiation of Ms Holly with US publisher, SourceBooks! I’ve been waiting for almost a year for this event. But some things are just worth the wait, and this is definitely one of them.

The Initiation of Ms Holly has had a wild couple of years. She’s found her way into the national newspapers, she’s made it onto national television and radio, she’s made it to number one on the Amazon UK paid erotica chart and on the free chart. Holly has even made her way into public libraries all across the UK!

Holly has done the Coast to Coast walk across England in a zip lock bag. (We couldn’t find any waterproofs in her size). She’s been to Las Vegas where she was read from at the famous Flamingo hotel. She’s been on the bookshelves in WH Smith stores in airports, train stations and along the motorways. That girl is well travelled! And as of this month, her adventure gets even bigger!

RT Book Reviews had this to say about Holly:

While the “exclusive BDSM club” trope is certainly not new, the author has found a way to make the story compelling with a variety of erotic characters and a slight hint of mystery. Readers will enjoy having a heroine like Rita who is comfortable with exploring her sexuality and will want to stick around to see if she emerges victorious when going up against the club’s wicked dominatrix. Caution: The sex in this book is both plentiful and scorching hot — oven mitts may be needed when turning the pages!

The Library Journal has included The Initiation of Ms Holly among what they consider the best of current erotic fiction!

The Initiation of Ms Holly is the novel that nearly didn’t get published, and yet, of all my novels, Holly has been the one that has taken me on the wildest ride – and still is! And I couldn’t be prouder.

To help Holly Celebrate her new cover, new release and continued adventure with SourceBooks Casablanca, here is a little teaser.

Blurb:

Journalist, Rita Holly, never dreamed sex with the mysterious Edward in the dark of a malfunctioning train would lead to a blindfolded, champagne-drenched tango, a spanking by a butch waitress, and an offer of initiation into the exclusive mysteries of The Mount. Desperate to save her threatened job, she agrees, scheming secretly to write an inside exposé on the club that will make her career. But as she delves deeper into the intrigue of The Mount and the lives of its members, she soon discovers that her heart may have other plans.


Excerpt from The Initiation of Ms Holly:

He practically fell on top of Rita, his hand grazing her left breast in the complete darkness. She yelped and grabbed him to keep from losing her balance.

“God, I’m sorry!” He gasped. “Bloody nuisance, this, isn’t it?” His voice was warm, melodious, by far the most pleasant thing that had happened to Rita since she left Paris. “Oh dear. You’re trembling. Are you all right?”

“I’m claustrophobic” her words were thin and shaky, as though she didn’t fully trust herself to let them out. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t know where we are.” For an embarrassing moment, she realized she was still clinging to him, but the embarrassment passed, and suddenly she didn’t care. If they were going to die trapped in a train in the Eurostar tunnel, buried beneath a gazillion gallons of water, she’d just as soon not do it alone.

He either understood, or was too polite to leave her in such distress. He wrapped his arms around her engulfing her in a muscular embrace, the scent of which was maleness barely masked by deodorant and some spicy cologne, both fading at the end of a day much longer than either of them had anticipated. “Don’t worry.” In the darkness, he misjudged the distance between them and his lips brushed her earlobe. “It’s just an electrical malfunction. Anyway we’re better off down here than in the snowstorm up above. Sounds like all of London is shut down. Who’d have expected snow this late in the spring? Never mind that, where else do you get the chance to cuddle strangers in the dark?”

He pressed a little closer to her, and she was relieved to find other thoughts, thoughts more welcome than those of their predicament, pushing their way into her head. He felt good, broad-shouldered and tall, easy to lean on.

“Why are you huddled here in the corner rather than hunkered down in your seat?”

She concentrated on his warm breath pressing against the top of her ear. “I was on my way back from the loo when the lights went out and…”

“And this is as far as you got.”

She nodded against his chest, homing in on the reassuring sound of his heartbeat.

“Shall I help you back to your seat then?”

The train lurched forward, and she yelped again, tightening her grip around his neck. “No, please. It’s better if I just don’t move.”

There was a long pause. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

She realized the poor man had little choice clenched in her strangle hold, as he was. “I don’t want to be any trouble,” she lied.

He readjusted his stance and tightened his embrace. “No trouble at all. I can’t think of a better way to pass the time than in the arms of a beautiful woman. You are beautiful, aren’t you?”

In spite of the stress she felt, she forced a laugh. “Gorgeous, actually. Too bad you can’t see for yourself.”

He ran a hand down the contour of her spine to rest low on the small of her back. “I don’t have to see you to admire you.”

The thought that the man was rather cheeky barely crossed her mind before he lifted her fingers to his lips and planted a warm kiss across the back of her knuckles. “I’m Edward. I’m from London. Clearly you’re not.”

“Rita,’ she replied. ‘I’m from Seattle, but I live in London now.”

“Well Rita, from Seattle, we’ve established that you’re an exotic beauty. Perhaps you’d like to return the favour.” He lifted her hand to his face and guided it gently over the slight stubble of his cheek. As her hand cupped his well-formed chin, he pulled her middle finger into his mouth and nibbled it, teasing the pad of it with his tongue. Suddenly her struggle to breathe had nothing to do with being claustrophobic.

“Well?” He asked pulling her hand away to massage her fingers. “What do you think? Am I acceptable?”

If he was cheeky, she was downright brazen. She stopped his words with her mouth, amazed at how easily she had found the mark in total darkness. Perhaps it was the darkness that made her so bold, but whatever it was, he didn’t disappoint. His mouth was warm, opening eagerly to the probing of her tongue, responding in kind, caressing her hard pallet, nipping at the fullness of her lower lip before pulling away just enough to speak.

“There, you see? It’s not so bad being in the dark, is it? The other senses are too often overlooked, which is very sad, since they offer such exquisite delights.” His hand moved up to cup her cheek, and he raked a thumb across her still parted lips. “Taste, for example. Few pleasures exceed that of the tongue.”

She heard him fumbling in the darkness, then she heard the rattling of foil. ‘Open your mouth,’ he whispered. “I have something that’ll make you feel better, guaranteed. Oh don’t worry, it’s nothing illegal.”

Reluctantly she opened her mouth, which he primed with a wet kiss, then slipped a chocolate truffle between her lips. It was covered liberally in cocoa and warmed exquisitely almost, but not quite to the steamy melting point of his body temperature, which only enhanced the sharp, edgy flavor that separates expensive chocolate from the cheap stuff.

She gasped her surprise, then moaned softly at the intensity of the taste.

“Don’t bite,” he kissed her jaw, then her throat. “Savour it, roll it around in your mouth. There are places on the tongue that taste only sweet and places that taste only bitter or salt, or sour. Chocolate can have all those flavors. Caress it in your mouth like you’re making love to it, and you’ll be amazed at what you taste.”

She cheeked the truffle, slurring her words as she spoke. “I thought I was tasting you.”

He chuckled softly. “Everything tastes better with chocolate.” Without another word, he took her mouth, plunging his tongue deep against the melting truffle, whirling it, lapping at it, sighing with the pleasure of it. The more liquid and heated the truffle became, the more liquid and heated Rita became. 


About K D Grace/Grace Marshall

K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.

K D has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, HarperCollins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, along with the newly released sequel, Fulfilling the Contract, and The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Heatwave trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available. She was nominated for ETO’s Best Erotic Author 2013.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition are all available.

Links:





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Sunday, March 16, 2014

Release Blitz: The Red Sheet by Mia Kerick #GLBT #YA @dreamspinners


Description:

One October morning, high school junior Bryan Dennison wakes up a different person—helpful, generous, and chivalrous—a person whose new admirable qualities he doesn’t recognize. Stranger still is the urge to tie a red sheet around his neck like a cape.
Bryan soon realizes this compulsion to wear a red cape is accompanied by more unusual behavior. He can’t hold back from retrieving kittens from tall trees, helping little old ladies cross busy streets, and defending innocence anywhere he finds it.
Shockingly, at school, he realizes he used to be a bully. He’s attracted to the former victim of his bullying, Scott Beckett, though he has no memory of Scott from before “the change.” Where he’d been lazy in academics, overly aggressive in sports, and socially insecure, he’s a new person. And although he can recall behaving egotistically, he cannot remember his motivations.
Everyone, from his mother to his teachers to his “superjock” former pals, is shocked by his dramatic transformation. However, Scott Beckett is not impressed by Bryan’s newfound virtue. And convincing Scott he’s genuinely changed and improved, hopefully gaining Scott’s trust and maybe even his love, becomes Bryan’s obsession.
With a foreword by C. Kennedy


Book Links:
Dreamspinner  Ι  Goodreads





Excerpt: 

I’D NEVER hidden in the high school boys’ bathroom, or any other bathroom, come to think of it, before. Not even once—from anybody or anything. I guess already being six foot two, and sharing no resemblance to a rack of bones, in my freshman year had kind of relieved me of the burden most ninth graders suffered of needing to hide from the terrible seniors—I’d already towered over most of them. But in more general terms, I didn’t hide because: A) I was too big to find any sort of a decent hiding spot in a men’s room, and B) everybody else was too busy hiding from me so all possible hiding spots were occupied. Nonetheless, here I was, cowering in a bathroom stall.


I needed to be alone for a few minutes. I needed to figure out what the fuck was happening in my life. I’ll put it this way: I was starting to get a sneaking suspicion that this weird personality change that had come over me went well beyond a desire for a red cape. Yeah, this was something far more complicated.


Inside the stall, the toilet had no lid to sit on, so sitting down on the toilet seat in a dignified manner, with my pants up, did not seem to be an option. On TV, I’d seen plenty of crafty characters hide in bathroom stalls by standing on top of the toilet seat so that if anyone looked under the stall to see if somebody was in there, no feet would be dangling down. But if I was to try that tack, I’d put my head right through the ceiling, as I’d grown at least two inches since freshman year. I guess six foot four wasn’t always an advantage. So I went with sitting cross-legged in front of the toilet. Unsanitary? Yes. Pathetic? Quite possibly. But it was the best I could come up with in the heat of the moment.


Strangely, when I finally got my long body folded into that bent-up position on the floor in front of the toilet, I could see that there was already someone curled up on the floor in the stall next to mine. So much for my solitary thinking time.


I directed my question to the lifeless body. “Excuse me… um… are you feeling okay?” I had no choice. I was called to respond to an insatiable drive within me to help those in need. And this guy had to be in major need or he wouldn’t be crumpled up into a fetal ball on the filthy bathroom floor. “Like… dude, want me to go get the nurse or something?”


I couldn’t see his face, as it was covered up by his arms. He didn’t make a sound.


“Is it your stomach? There’s a lot going around right now, I’d say. My mom is a nurse at County General Hospital and she told me that….” I let my words trail off, suspecting the guy wasn’t listening to me anyways.


“Just leave me alone.”


Well, that was a start, wasn’t it? I mean, we were communicating now.


Positive thinking, Bry.


“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” I was afraid too. I was afraid the new chivalrous part of me wasn’t gonna let me leave the bathroom until I had gotten this guy onto his feet and smiling up at me. And class started in ten minutes, which didn’t leave me a hell of a lot of time to accomplish my lofty goal. “At least tell me what’s wrong.”


“Like you don’t already know.” His response was both muffled and pissed-off sounding, but, again, it was communication, so I felt thankful. 


Thankful to whom? I had no idea. I was just thankful, period. (Try to hold off on the fucking analysis at this point, okay, reader?)


“Call me clueless, but I have no idea what is troubling you.”
He slid to the edge of my stall and stuck his head in. I saw a flash of blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses perched on an adorable nose—it was Scott Beckett, the kid from the cafeteria.


“It’s you.”


“Yeah, asshole, it’s me. So, go ahead, do what you came here to do. You going to give me a swirly? Make me lick the urinals…. What’s it going to be this time, Dennison?”


I had no idea how to respond. I’d never so much as laid eyes on this kid before, and he was acting like I’d been in on some kind of a bullying brigade directed solely at him. Either I had missed something major, or he had a very vivid imagination. “Refresh my memory, Beckett. Tell me what I did… uh, the last time.”


Still sprawled out flat on the floor beside me, directly underneath the stall divider, his pretty face screwed up into a tight knot, he squealed, “Fuck you, Dennison! Acting like you forgot is even more insulting than what you did to me in the first place. Like, I can believe that you and your buddy torture any kid who looks like an easy target, so you can’t remember all the evil details of each individual case, but what you did to me? Saturday night? Just… just fuck you!”


I nodded and then shook my head. I was clueless and confused… and starting to feel guilty. For what, I didn’t know.


Plus, Scott Beckett was just so… so interesting. So appealing.
Why would I ever try to hurt him?


“God, you’re an even bigger asshole than I thought you were… and that’s sure saying something.” Scott dragged himself up off the floor. Once he was standing in the stall beside mine, he asked me, “So, other than last Saturday night, you usually play the role of the evil sidekick when you’re out in public. Where’s your buddy Wilson—the instigator?”


“Brandon Wilson?”


“Ya think? Let me guess… five, four, three, two, one… looks like he’s late, isn’t he? But I know he’s going to burst in here, conveniently, at any second now, right? Or maybe he’s waiting outside the door for an audio cue or something?”


I stood up too. What this dude was implying about my personal character was highly disturbing.


“Should I scream? Is that the signal—or are you going for the tears again, you fuckwad-asswipe?”


Signal?


Tears? Again?


Fuckwad-asswipe? Me?


“No, Brandon’s back in the cafeteria. Now listen, buddy, just do me a favor—”
“Did you just call me ‘buddy’?” He asked me so loudly that his voice echoed in the tiny stall.


“Just tell me what I did to you.”


His stall door slammed, indicating he was now out in the main part of the bathroom. So I came out of my stall as well. And Scott Beckett was just standing there in front of the sink, glasses in hand, looking up at me with round bright eyes, his pretty pink-skinned face saturated with the purest fury I’d ever seen, and it was all directed my way. I mean, this kid fucking hated me… and I didn’t know him from Adam. “I’m not about to do you any favors, Dennison.” His thin top lip curled up in disgust, and then he added in a low voice, “Besides, we both know what went down.”


With one last scathing look, he fled the bathroom. And I was even more flabbergasted than I had been five minutes before when I’d come into the men’s room to think.


That kid is completely full of bull.


Yeah, that had to be it: Scott Beckett was messing with my head. Right? But… but back in the caf, hadn’t Brandon suggested that we had done something to this kid… and that he seemed to be looking forward to the two of us finishing the job we’d started on him? And, for that matter, Jack had referred to the fact that Brandon and me had made more than one trip to the principal’s office in regard to bullying this kid.


I grabbed a hold on the sink, because the entire bathroom was suddenly spinning all around me. I was dizzy, but I was sure it wasn’t because of the shocking realization that I may have done something seriously nasty to Scott Beckett (that I somehow couldn’t remember) to make him hate me this way. No, it wasn’t that at all… convenient memory lapses don’t just happen. Most probably, I was dizzy because I was exhausted. I guessed that maybe I’d drunk more than my fair share on Saturday night, because, in truth, Sunday was mostly a blur too. Or maybe somebody had slipped me a roofie, which could definitely be the reason I was sick and dizzy and I couldn’t remember shit. All I had to do was just make it through the rest of the day, and then serve my detention, go home, and get a good night’s sleep. I’d tell Mom I was sick… that I wasn’t up for a big dinner. That was the truth too—I really wasn’t up for food or conversation.


Rest was all I needed… and tomorrow when I woke up, things would be crystal clear again.


But, shit, I hope Mom brings home those sheets.


Book Links: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4726


About the Author: 

Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—all named after saints—and five nonpedigreed cats—all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.


Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled men and their relationships, and she believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press for providing her with an alternate place to stash her stories.


Mia is proud of her involvement with the Human Rights Campaign and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.
My themes I always write about:
Sweetness. Unconventional love, tortured/damaged heroes- only love can save them.


Author Links:

http://miakerick.com/
https://www.facebook.com/mia.kerick
http://www.amazon.com/Mia-Kerick/e/B009KSTG9E/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1389575652&sr=1-1


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