Friday, November 21, 2014

Welcome Eva Gordon today


Take a peek into Eva Gordon's character's top five items they need and check out the upcoming book in the series.

List of 5 Things You Need if You are Mia

A new name and location to escape the Russian mob bent on murdering her.
A cottage in the woods where you can hide and start a new work-at-home career.
A cello to practice her music.
Naughty books given to her by her BFFs before she went into the witness protection program.
A witness protection program handler.

List of 5 Things You Need if You are Dominic.

A dungeon where he can enforce the law against werewolves deemed oath breakers.
A pack of loyal betas.
An isolated estate.
Staying in touch with Rylee, head of the Lycan Intelligence Agency.
Making his mysterious new neighbor his human pet.


Book One: Alpha Wolf's Pet, Hidden

Mia’s testimony against Russian mobsters forced her to enter the witness protection program. She is relocated to a quaint cottage in Wolf Woods, near Mt. Rainier, far from everyone and everything she loved and cared for. All is calm, until she meets Dominic, the gorgeous ruggedly handsome owner of the mysterious Wolfe Estate. He is all alpha male, domineering, and controlling. The last thing she needs is to get involved with a sexy control freak.

Alpha werewolf, Dominic Wolfe, is the packs’ enforcer. When an attractive young woman moves into a cottage near his territory; his senses are heightened to obsessive proportions. A human pet to meet his desires.

Dominic is determined to unveil Mia’s real identity while keeping his own securely hidden. Haunted by the howls and shrieks coming from Dominic’s estate, Mia wonders if she can really trust the enigmatic man she suspects of wanting a dominant-submissive relationship. A man who brings out her darker desires.
Will hidden danger keep them from gratifying their burning passion?

Excerpt from Alpha Wolf’s Pet, Hidden By Eva Gordon

Mia sipped her fresh cup of coffee and smiled. “No, thank you, I’ll order it online.” She paid for the pancake mix and syrup. As she turned to leave, she crashed into a hulk of a man. Her steaming hot coffee splashed over the man’s shirt. “I’m so sorry.” She looked up and gasped... “So…sorry.” She lost her voice on seeing Dominic Wolfe. Not in a business suit but wearing a black flannel shirt and blue jeans, looking more like a cowboy than a business tycoon. Ten degrees hotter.
He stepped back and patted big broad hands at what must be a smarting burn on his broad chest. He laughed. “Don’t be, I shouldn't have been standing so close.”
Mia blushed. His deep masculine rumble sent shivers down to private parts of her body. “It must have burned.” The right thing to do was to remove his shirt and check the burn. Then what? She had no first aid skills. Maybe the coffee had not been that hot, or his thick shirt had protected him from being scalded.
“Nah, it was not that hot.” He chuckled.
“I’m so mortified.”
“I’ll get you a towel, Mr. Wolfe,” said the young man behind the register.
Dominic called, “No really. I’m all right.”
The bagger returned from the storeroom with a wet rag and mop. “No problem, Mr. Wolfe.”
“Come on, Jeff. Call me Dominic.” He took the towel and patted the stain.
He lowered his head. “Yes, sir.”
Dominic gently pulled her away and Jeff mopped up the mess. His touch ignited a small flame of desire not lit in over a year.
Mia straightened. “I’ll pay to have it laundered.” She met his dark amber eyes, speckled with gold flakes that gave him a feral look. His smoldering eyes were so intense, she immediately averted hers. It was as if he would see her thoughts. Holy hell is he hot.
He picked up her fallen grocery tote and handed it to her. “It’s just coffee, Miss…?”
“Mia Attwood.”
He smiled. “Mia is Spanish for mine.”
His deep rumbled pronunciation of Mia sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. More like missing in action, because he makes me lose my mind. She must look like a deer caught in the headlights and focused on his features. A trimmed beard on his chiseled handsome face, the kind of face that commanded armies, rescued hostages, and obviously never flinched under torture. Definitely former military.
He offered his hand. “Dominic Wolfe.” His gold-speckled eyes twinkled in mischief. “You’re Ellen’s new neighbor.”
She clutched her grocery bag. “Yes, I thought you looked familiar.”
Dominic raised a brow. “Uh, huh.”
His tone condescending as if he spoke to an insane person. Her red cheeks disclosed her lie. “You were dressed differently.” Duh! Now he probably thought she had the IQ of a snail.
“I was on my way to a business meeting.” He tilted his head, his lips twisted in a bemused smile. “It appeared I frightened you. Although, you probably wanted to run in and fix your hair.”
Mia narrowed her eyes. As if. “My hair was fine.” Nothing wrong with a ponytail. She couldn’t tell him he looked like a hit man. Yet, now in person and dressed down in blue jeans that hugged powerful legs, there was something unnerving about him. His presence even caused the bagger to act subservient. It was more than the fact he was filthy rich. He was an arrogant prick. “I left my stove on and my tea kettle was whistling.”
Dominic chuckled. “I didn’t take you for a tea drinker, especially with latte all over my shirt.”
Mia hated tea. Was he a mind reader or just a lucky guess? “I didn’t say I was making hot water for tea.” She glanced at her watch. “I shouldn’t hold you up.” She bit her lip and smiled. “Again, sorry about your shirt.”
“Wait.” His masculine all alpha male tone sounded more like a command than a request. Yet, one she wanted to obey. As though he used some sort of Jedi mind trick. Maybe because when he stared, he never blinked.
She turned. “What?”
“I owe you a fresh cup of coffee.”
“No really, you don’t.” She squirmed as his smoldering eyes compelled her to obey.
Dominic laughed. “I promise. I won’t bite.”
Before she could argue why she couldn’t let a sexy rich guy buy her a cup of coffee, he seized her grocery bag and then wrapped his arm about hers.

Her Alpha Wolf’s Pet series, Hidden, Book 1 will continue with Book 2 Kept, and Book 3 Hunted.

Sneak Peak at Cover and Blurb for Book 2, Alpha Wolf’s Pet, Kept: Release Date: November 18, 2014.

In the sequel to Alpha Wolf’s Pet, Hidden, Mia has two choices: remain hidden, frightened by the Russian mob determined to murder her, or become a sworn member and under the protection of Dominic’s werewolf pack.  Being Dominic's human lover is pleasurable while taxing. She wants more than he can give: commitment. Except werewolves never marry humans. Carnal desires aside, will she accept her low status within the pack in order to share what little time she has with Dominic until he takes a werewolf mate?

Dominic is torn. If he gives Mia beta status, his pack will mutiny. If he doesn’t, she’ll leave. Her stubborn independent nature will turn his world of strict pack rules upside down and he’ll be scorned as pack enforcer. He loves her, but his pack rules will never allow him to claim a human as his mate. Worse, he’s drawn to Mia's addictive blood. Was one taste too much?

Despite breaking the witness protection rules and looming danger, Mia is determined to visit her ailing grandmother. Can Dominic protect her from the mob, as well as from his kind?  As their passion reaches a fevered pitch, will circumstances crush their happiness?



Find out more about future books in Eva Gordon’s Alpha Wolf’s Pet series and her other paranormal, fantasy and steampunk books at www.ravenauthor.com

Connect with Eva Gordon: 

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Out Now – Multi-Orgasmic: A Collection of Erotic Short Stories by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #erotica #erotic #ebook #ku #kindleunlimited


Out Now – Multi-Orgasmic: A Collection of Erotic Short Stories by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #erotica #erotic #ebook #ku #kindleunlimited
Blurb:
From the pen of award-winning erotica author Lucy Felthouse comes a collection of short stories and flash fiction sure to hit the spot.
There’s something for everyone nestling between the pages of this sexy anthology. From spanking to voyeurism, bondage to pegging, solo loving to ménage, with a sprinkling of femdom, maledom and magic, fans of M/F erotic stories will soon discover why this book is described as multi-orgasmic.
Enjoy twenty one titillating tales, over 52,000 words of naughtiness packed into one steamy read.
Please note: Many of the stories in this book have been previously published in anthologies and online, but three of the tales are brand new and never-seen-before!
Buy links:




Excerpt:
Private Jesse Bagnall glowered and muttered to himself all the way to the mess. He’d just been bawled out by Corporal Roxanne Grey—yet again—and he was getting seriously fed up of it. He knew he wasn’t perfect in the drill exercises, but then nor were any of the other guys. It was like she was singling him out and aiming all her abuse in his direction. Being shouted at was to be expected in the army—it was almost part of the job description—but Corporal Grey’s attitude was bordering on discriminatory, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Especially without looking like a total pussy.
Spotting some of his closest friends at a table towards the back of the mess, he caught the eye of one of them—Matt Kay—raised a hand in greeting, then got in line for his food.
Several minutes later he loaded his cup of tea onto his tray along with everything else and headed over to where he’d seen Matt and the boys. Hopefully they’d take his mind off the Queen Bitch. They were always game for a laugh.
“All right, lads?” he said, sliding his tray onto the table and taking a seat.
There were mumbles of assent.
“Yeah,” replied Ed Patterson. “You?”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
Ed raised an eyebrow, and the other men turned their attention to Jesse, too. “Well,” Ed said, “that wasn’t very convincing. What’s up, mate?”
Jesse sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s the drill instructor.”
His friends exchanged confused looks. “Care to elaborate?” Matt said.
Not wanting to look like a wimp in front of his mates, Jesse changed his tone. But once he had, the anger took over him. “She’s a fucking bitch, that’s what!”
The confused expressions turned to surprised ones.
“I’m fed up of her treating me like a twat. I know it’s her job to bawl us out, but she takes it too far. I do my fucking best, work my arse off, and it’s still not good enough for her.”
He barely noticed the gazes of his friends shifting slightly, and carried on regardless. “She definitely picks on me more than everyone else. As though I’ve seen sitting on my arse when everyone else is killing themselves to get it right. She’s just being a complete and utter bitch. Bitch face fucking Grey!”
Matt cleared his throat, to no avail.
“You know what her problem is?” Jesse continued. “She needs a fucking good shag, she does. That might cheer the miserable cow up. Mind you, Christ knows what man would be brave enough to go there. She’d probably bite your cock off as soon as suck it.”
As the red mist of his anger dissipated, Jesse finally clocked the reactions of the other men around his table. They weren’t at all what he’d expected. Ed and Matt looked mighty chagrined, staring at a point over his left shoulder. Private Graham Pilgrim had actually put his head down and begun to bang it on the table.
A cold trickle of dread ran down his back, and he turned, wondering which of his superiors had heard his rant.
Fuck. It was none other than the target of his diatribe.
Corporal Roxanne Grey stood, her arms crossed, one high-heeled foot tapping on the floor. Her facial expression was as far from impressed as it was possible to be.
Coolly, she said, “Bagnall. Guard room, now.”
Jesse’s heart sunk into his heavy-duty boots, and he had to resist the temptation to drop his gaze to the floor. His buddies would never let him live it down. He had to do as the woman said otherwise he’d be guilty of insubordination, but he was going to do it in the manliest way possible.
Turning back to the table, he sneaked a quick glance at each of his friends in turn, hoping his expression looked irritated, not shit scared, which was what he really was. Standing, he left his lunch tray where it was and followed Corporal Grey out of the mess, across the yard and into the scruffy-looking building that was the guard room. God, the government really needed to put some money into this place—it certainly didn’t give off the air of tough professionalism that the personnel were expected to show.
Opening the door, Corporal Grey stood aside and ushered him in, before following him and shutting the door behind them and twisting the lock. The room was empty. She moved to sit in a chair, and motioned him to take another one.
“I suppose you know why you’re here?”
“Yes, ma’am. My unforgiveable words and actions back in the mess.” Now it was just the two of them, he could grovel as much as he felt necessary without worrying about losing face.
“Hmm. Yes. But actually, it’s more the reasoning behind the words that I’m interested in.”
“W—what do you mean?”
“You mentioned that you feel like I pick on you, more than I do anyone else during drill instruction. As though you’re sitting on your arse, I do believe were your words.”
Jesse fought the colour coming to his face, and failed miserably. “Y—yes, ma’am.”
“Do I really make you feel that way? Or were you just having a whinge to your mates? Tell me honestly, please.”
The anger had gone from her tone, and her expression was open, expectant. She really and truly wanted him to be honest. He opened and closed his mouth—not unlike a fish—a couple of times, before clearing his throat and attempting to form an answer. It didn’t help that, now she’d stopped screaming at him and was actually being quite pleasant, he’d come to the conclusion that she was hot. Even in her army uniform, she looked feminine, as though she was hiding a delicious body underneath all that olive green.
“O—okay then. Yes, you do. Ever since you turned up to drill us in preparation for the parade, you’ve made me feel like a useless sack of shit. I know it’s important, God do I know, and I want to get it right, but I really am trying my best. I’m giving this my all, and it seems as though it’s just not good enough for you. Some of the other guys are worse than me, and you don’t come down on them like a ton of bricks. Maybe just half a ton.” He smiled weakly, hoping she’d realise he was joking.
A tiny smile played at the corners of the corporal’s lips. “Would it make you feel any better if I told you why I’m doing it? Shouting at you more than the others, I mean.”
“Um, I guess it depends on what you’re going to say. I’m really not as shit as some of the other guys.”
“I know. But…” She got to her feet and moved to stand in front of Jesse. Leaning down and placing her hands on the arms of his chair, she continued. “Let’s just say I’m trying not to let my true feelings show. If people found out how much I want you, I don’t think it would go down too well.”
“W—want me? You want me?” His heart pounded, and his brain raced to keep up with what she was saying. Did she really mean what he thought she meant? Was there a way he could have misunderstood her words? He didn’t think so. “You mean, like, want me in the sex way?” He knew his phrasing was ridiculous, but he couldn’t think of anything better right at that moment. His brain was too fried.
Corporal Grey laughed, her blue eyes sparkling as crinkles appeared in their corners. It was adorable and sexy all at once, and Jesse’s cock surprised him by hardening.
“Yes,” she said. “I mean in the sex way. But I guess you know now why I’ve been behaving the way I have? Can you forgive me? I didn’t mean to make you feel like a useless sack of shit. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I can forgive you. But only if you make it up to me.” It seemed his cock had taken over control of his mouth now, because as the words floated into the air, he realised he had no idea what he actually meant.
“Oh yeah?” Moving her hands to her hips, Corporal Grey adopted a saucy stance. “And how am I supposed to do that?”
Jesse cast his gaze about the room rapidly, hoping for inspiration. Thankfully, he spotted something that would serve his purpose perfectly. Standing, he gently pushed past her and retrieved the pace stick that was propped up in the corner. Designed for marking time in parades and similar, when it was open it formed a ‘V’ shape; closed it was just a wooden stick. One he could use to get his own back on Corporal Grey. And he really had to stop thinking of her as Corporal Grey, especially considering what he was about to do. She was Roxanne.
Turning back to her, he stifled a grin when he saw the look on her face. She obviously hadn’t been expecting that. Pointing to a nearby table, he commanded, “Pull your skirt up to your waist and bend over.”
“O—okay.”
She sounded nervous, and he didn’t blame her. Frankly, he was surprised she’d agreed. He was wielding quite an interesting weapon, and she was going to allow him to use it on her. Perhaps she was into a bit of pain. He’d soon find out.
Following her to the table, he waited while she summoned her courage, then lifted her skirt. His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his close-cropped hairline when he saw the skimpy black thong that had been hidden beneath her drab skirt. It bisected lovely pale, round bum cheeks, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to pull the material aside and bury his cock in her warm depths.
First, though, Roxanne had some making up to do. “Ready?”
Pressing her hands to the surface of the table, she nodded quickly.
Jesse moved into the position he thought best and waved the pace stick around a little, to get used to the way it moved and balanced. He’d never spanked a woman before, never mind with one of these things. God knows why he’d even suggested it. She probably thought he was some kind of kinky bastard, now. Never mind, it was just a bit of fun.

Author Bio:
Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women's Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9


WRITERS WRITE... WRITING PARTNERS FEUD ~ Absurdity Day



A:  Today's Absurdity Day.  (Her announcement doesn't have its usual enthusiasm.  Unlike most days, she wears a very sensible sized-correctly designer blouse, dark, well-pressed pants, a sleek printed scarf draped just right and low heeled shoes.  Her make-up is light and age appropriate, and her hair freshly styled.  She looks decisively uncomfortable)

Z:  Having spent a decade writing with you, every day is Absurdity Day.  (Eyes the outfit, knowing for Ang, this is her idea of absurd... Zi longs for tops that barely fit, missed-matched shoes and pants worn inside-out)

A:  Hardity-har-har... the sparrow was a star... the star was heard... and now it is songbird!  (Twitters in her chair, plucks at her shirt, presses against the crease in her pants as if trying to flatten it)

Z:  Absurd!  (He didn't just mean her words)

A:  (Tugs at her scraf.   Looks up at the Cat in the Hat hat on the bookshelf and resists the urge to plop it on her head)  I'll raise you one.   Galen Beckett wrote, “One is always willfully absurd.... If one does not say silly things with a purpose, then he is merely an idiot.” 

Z:  So you are applying for genius status?  (Notes her wistful gaze, understanding the absurd in her can't abide the normalcy)

A:  Albert Einstein said, “If at first the idea is not absurd, then there is no hope for it.” (Continues to twitch) 

Z:  Are you wearing Flash Gordon underwear?  Where is my writing partner?  What vile creature from the west end of Hades has taken her?   

A:  I know... I look weird.  I feel weird.

Z:  "I can see nothing," said Alice, in Wonderland.  "My, you must have good eyes," replied, Cheshire Cat.

A:  In honor of Absurdity Day I shall share Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll:

 

Jabberwocky

By Lewis Carroll

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

      And the mome raths outgrabe.

 

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

      The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

      The frumious Bandersnatch!”

 

He took his vorpal sword in hand;

      Long time the manxome foe he sought—

So rested he by the Tumtum tree

      And stood awhile in thought.

 

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

      The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

      And burbled as it came!

 

One, two! One, two! And through and through

      The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

      He went galumphing back.

 

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

      Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”

      He chortled in his joy.

 

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

      And the mome raths outgrabe.

Z:  So what are the plans for the rest of the day?

A:  To research on the internet the meaning of Carroll's gibberish.

Z:  I'm in.  (He reaches for the absurd hat and puts it on her head, takes off her scarf and replaces it with a bright pink boa)

(They both grin)

 

Steel Embrace Excerpt

 

Perhaps the items from behind the safe had nothing to do with Titane’s disappearance, but Steel was still putting the pieces together, leaving him little time for a personal life.  Steel’s mental wanderings were abruptly interrupted.

 

“Put it on or leave,” Charles said.

 

Seeing this, Steel finally felt the order would have her running for the door.

 

Her gaze went from one man to the other. Remembering the advice, whatever it takes, she shocked him by saying with unexpected bravado, “Where do I change?”

 

However, that bluster dissolved at Gamble’s words. “Right here, doll. In front of us. How else can we inspect the merchandise?”

 

“In front of all three of you?” she blurted. “As if merchandise?” Her hesitation was brief.

 

They watched.

 

She hesitated.

 

Lost within the power of the men’s silence, Steel conceded to himself he had little time for thralls.

 
***
We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at writingteamcw@yahoo.com (Write - Blog Dawn - in subject line) and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a gift and add you to any future mailings.



Angelica Hart and Zi ~ Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane
www.champagnebooks.com - www.carnalpassions.com - angelicahartandzi.com








Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Book Spotlight & Giveaway- Shimmy For Me


Check out Deanna Cameron's Shimmy For Me book blast and make sure to enter the giveaway at the end of the post. You could win either an amazon or B&N gift certificate. This tour is hosted by Goddess Fish and you can find all the tour stops HERE


Shimmy for Me
Deanna Cameron

Juggling two jobs to keep her belly dance studio afloat keeps Abby Anderson’s mind off her shattered love life—until a reawakened pain sends her into the arms of an anonymous stranger she plucks from the audience of her tribal belly dance show. No names, no strings, no romance. She tells herself it’s a harmless hookup.

Until he turns up at her day job . . .

Derek Collier, the sexy heir to the Collier media dynasty, just landed everything he’s always wanted: the publisher’s seat at the Orange County Herald. Except his first order of business is to sell the newspaper. Reeling from his family’s betrayal, his only comfort is the memory of that mysterious belly dancer and the perfect night they spent together.

He won’t rest until he finds her again.

She’ll lose everything if he does.

Teaser:

“It’s only sex,” Abby Anderson said, keeping her focus on the mirror propped on the desk in front of her and the black eyeliner wand in her hand.

In the corner, Melanie flipped through a tattoo magazine. “It’s about time. How you managed to go a whole year is a mystery to me.”

“It’s not like I planned it. It just happened. I’ve been busy.”

Busy working two jobs—three if you counted the belly dance studio that was consuming every spare minute and dollar she had. It didn’t seem possible that so much time had passed since her ex had given her the ultimatum: him or the studio. He didn’t understand how she could leave graduate school and the prospect of a comfortable career to devote herself to what he considered a dead-end business. That’s when she knew he didn’t understand her—and he never would.

Most days, she was too busy to think about her wreck of a love life. Today she could think of little else.

May 1. Seeing the date on the calendar had brought it all back. That last terrible fight. All the awful things he’d said to her. She knew they weren’t true. Pursuing her passion didn’t make her selfish. It didn’t mean she was damaged goods.

She’d find love again. Eventually. But tonight it wasn’t love she was after. She just wanted to think about something besides that brain-dead temp job at the newspaper, the skimpy dance tips she earned at the restaurant, and the studio that sank her deeper into debt every day, even if it was the only thing that could still make her smile.

She wanted to remember how it felt to be touched. To feel lips pressed to hers, hands on her waist, maybe a caress or two. All the belly dance writhing and grinding in the world wouldn’t scratch that itch.
           
She needed a man.

About the Author

DeAnna Cameron writes novels featuring feisty heroines transformed by true love and belly dance—the oldest and most exciting dance form in the world. Her novels have been translated into Japanese, Polish, and Serbian, and her work has been praised for its “deft prose, energetic characters and . . . colorful images” by RT Book Reviews and called “most entertaining” by the Historical Novel Review. Before turning to fiction, DeAnna worked as a journalist, writing and editing for several Southern California newspapers and magazines. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America, as well as its Orange County chapter. When she isn’t working on her next novel, she can usually be found at her jeweler’s bench, creating new wire-wrap, bead, and multimedia designs. She lives in Orange County, Calif., with her family.

http://www.DeAnnaCameron.com

http://www.facebook.com/deanna.m.cameron

http://www.twitter.com/deannamcameron






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Tuesday, November 18, 2014

City Nights: One Night in Edinburgh by Charlotte Howard (@Shy_Tiger)

City Nights: One Night in Edinburgh by Charlotte Howard (@Shy_Tiger) 
Blurb:
Chloe Shard has travelled to Edinburgh to meet up with a potential client, and has just twenty-four hours to convince them to sign her contract. But when she meets the delicious Ethan, he proves to be so much more than an enticing distraction. It’s not long before Chloe has some life changing decisions to make, and less than a day to make them in.

Buy Links:

Excerpt:
Chloe squeezed her eyes shut as the plane’s wheels bumped along the tarmac, and her stomach lurched into her chest as the brakes were applied. Her ears flooded with the sound of her own heart beating louder than the squealing and screeching of the landing gear. Pressure built in her cheeks as she clenched her teeth together.
The worst hour in her life was almost over.

“Welcome to
Edinburgh,” said the captain over the speaker system. “We hope you had a pleasant journey and enjoyed the flight. Please remain seated with your seat belts fastened until the light is turned off.”

A chuckle emanated from nearby. Chloe opened one eye and peered at the man in the seat across the aisle from her.

“You can breathe again,” he said in an American accent, flashing her a grin.

“I think I’ll wait until my feet are actually on the ground if it’s all the same to you,” she replied, leaning back into the headrest.

A loud ping was followed by a Mexican wave of clicking as the passengers released their seat belts and fought to get their bags and rush off the plane. Chloe undid her own belt then hurriedly squished herself into the seat as an oversized belly, violently stretching at a pale green shirt, began its invasion of her breathing space. Her shoulder was nudged as the impatient woman beside her stood up, hunching under the overhead compartment.

She waited for the plane to empty. The impatient woman started huffing and tutting. Chloe looked up apologetically, but was met with a hardened glare.

“Here,” said the man from opposite. She turned her gaze towards him and was grateful to see him holding back a herd of cattle desperate to depart. She drank him in for a second. He was broad enough to act as a barrier between her and the crowd. A very attractive barrier. From the way his T-shirt stretched over his biceps, she could tell that his width was certainly not due to being overweight. Ink spiralled around his skin from beneath the short sleeve, tracing down to his elbow.

“Thank you.” She stepped into the aisle. Immediately, the woman from beside her shoved herself through the gap, knocking Chloe into the man’s chest with an oof!

“I’m so sorry!” she said, stepping back and turning to the overhead compartments, feeling her cheeks heat. Her fingers tingled with the memory of his muscular chest beneath them.

Author Bio:
British author Charlotte Howard, was born in Oman and spent much of the first part of her life flitting between Oman, Scotland, and England. Now settled in Somerset, Charlotte lives with her husband, two children, and growing menagerie of pets.
Her career as a writer began at an early age, with a poem being featured in an anthology for the East Midlands. Since then Charlotte has written many short stories and poems, and finally wrote her first full-length piece of fiction in 2010.
During what little spare time she has, Charlotte enjoys reading and writing (of course), spending time with her family, and watching action movies whilst eating curry and drinking tea.
Charlotte is an active member of Yeovil Creative Writers.

Social Media / Website links:
Instagram: Choward_author
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/choward2614


Monday, November 17, 2014

Book Spotlight~ Lincoln 9

Check out new to me author, Dave Freedland and his new book, Lincoln-9.
When Bethany Crutchfield failed to show for Sunday brunch, and her father’s phone calls remained unanswered, it became apparent that his concern was justified regarding her welfare. Police officers from “America’s Safest City,” Irvine, California, discovered a gruesome homicide scene which established Bethany as the first in a series of murders that would ultimately span over two decades.
Lincoln 9 takes place in a city whose reputation for safety and affluence overshadows the fact that the relatively few homicides are among the most vicious and complex cases of human brutality. This is a story of three such cases, combined into a fictional plot and characters, but based upon actual crimes and police officers who risked their lives to bring justice to the perpetrators of these heinous acts of violence.
The story follows the career of Lieutenant Scott Hunter, the consummate cop who ultimately leads a team of detectives in connecting the clues toward solving these murders. His talents not only instilled confidence in the members of his elite unit, but drew the attention of an attractive co-worker remarkably matched in interest and intellect.

Teaser:


The ground level apartment was dark, with the shades drawn, porch light on, and there was no response to the doorbell, heavy knock, or the usual police announcements. MacNeal and Nemeth walked to the rear, and found the elevated window ajar only an inch, but enough to slide it to the left, fully open. Not wide enough for Nemeth, whose fondness for bagels left the girth of his frame capable of reaching only the window’s edge and his Sam Browne gun belt blocked further access.

MacNeal, on the other hand, epitomized compactness, but would need a boost to reach the bottom of the sill.  With a quick lift from Nemeth, MacNeal’s upper body disappeared through the drawn curtains, and within a moment stood in the darkened master bedroom straining for night vision.  Scanning for threats, MacNeal’s head snapped right, catching a nude feminine silhouette lying on her back on the queen sized-bed, toes canted outward 45 degrees, and separated the width of a yardstick. Her head was propped with a pillow, and wrapped with a water soaked bath towel, covering all facial features.

MacNeal sprinted to the front door, threw the deadbolt, and darted back to the bedroom yelling “927” to his partner, signaling “unknown trouble, or possible dead body.”  He threw the light switch up, taking a mental note to remind detectives that the switch was off upon his initial entry into the room.  Nemeth lumbered across the threshold, hearing MacNeal’s tone change from urgency to resignation, with his pronouncement of “927-D,” indicating a dead body. Nemeth found MacNeal leaning over the bed, holding the now unraveled towel in his left hand, revealing the battered face, fixed eyes gazing at the ceiling, and matted blonde hair cascading to the shoulders.

Nemeth glanced at the pooling blood, marking the bottom side of her extremities and commented, “Post mortem lividity.” MacNeal retorted, “Don’t need lividity to show she’s dead, man.  Check out the strangle marks around her neck, and the trauma to her skull.” Nemeth knelt down to peer at the small, framed photo on the nightstand, depicting the victim with a brunette of equal beauty clothed in bridesmaid’s attire. “She was a looker, Jim,” Nemeth said flatly as MacNeal keyed his pack-set radio calling for a supervisor. Quickly surveying the scene for evidence, the officers thought the apartment’s rooms displayed troves of clues, but detectives would ultimately determine what was relevant. For the moment, however, MacNeal and Nemeth’s job was to lock down the scene and canvass neighbors.

About the Author
Dave Freedland is a 34-year decorated law enforcement professional having served with the Irvine Police, and the Orange County (California) Sheriff’s Departments. Following a competitive athletic career culminating with the award of “UCLA’s Most Valuable Gymnast,” he graduated first in his Sheriff’s academy class. While serving with the Irvine Police Department he worked in a variety of assignments including Detectives, Patrol, Training, Internal Affairs, SWAT, and retired at the rank of Deputy Chief. As a SWAT team leader, he supervised operations for numerous barricade and hostage incidents, and was the recipient of several awards including “Police Officer of the Year”and the “Meritorious Service Award.” As a SWAT commander he was recognized for his contributions in the establishment of the country’s first county-level counter-terrorist unit incorporating SWAT, bomb disposal, and hazardous materials disciplines. He currently trains and teaches martial arts in Orange County, having attained a 5th degree black belt in Japanese Shotokan karate.
Website: http://davefreedland.com/

Saturday, November 15, 2014

Book Spotlight~ Hardened Desire by Layna Pimentel

Hardened Desire by Layna Pimentel 

BLURB
What could Luc Mercier, a gargoyle who's more than a century old, possibly have in common with modern introvert, Gillian Harris? Loneliness and isolation.

When meddlesome friends bring the two together, neither is prepared for the flurry of emotions nor revelations that overwhelm them. That is, until Gillian stumbles across the truth and struggles with how she let her guard down.
Learning to love again has never been harder.

EXCERPT

Luc picked up a newspaper from the stand and tossed a two-dollar coin to the elderly man working the counter. He ascended the cavernous stairs of Bloor and Dufferin subway station, irritated by the lights flickering intensely. I should have just taken my car.
But if he did, Luc would have missed an opportunity to observe society other than from the café he frequented lately. A society he didn’t belong in, technically speaking, and had no business being a part of. Long gone were the muddy, off-beaten roads of provincial France. Long gone was the time when an over-flowing bodice was considered scandalous.
Now people thrived on exposing as much skin as possible. The modern day sentiment of what was attractive and acceptable embarrassed him to the core, from the mode of dress to the inappropriate use of language. Didn’t anyone know how to speak without using an expletive every other word? Where had humanity gone wrong? It was ghastly enough that children didn’t respect their elders, much less their parents.
Nevertheless, as much as this modern world perplexed him, nothing could deter him from at least enjoying his freedom, regardless of the limitations restricting his activities to the darkness of the night.
He did, however, miss the ambiance of candle light and the soft cries while seducing a woman, tormenting her with his wicked tongue. Exploring deviant, but heavenly, practices of binding and mixing pleasure with pain. Sweet promises falling from his lips while exploring every inch of her delicate and exquisite flesh.
These days, the few women he was able to enjoy weren’t interested in highly sensual liaisons. No. Today’s women thrived on being in control of seduction, whether they were proficient or not. There certainly wasn’t anything wrong with the scenario, but it wasn’t his taste. He preferred his women soft, like Genevieve…his sweet, sweet Genevieve.
No matter how many decades passed, the only woman he’d ever confided in, and planned to wed, crept into his mind many a time. Genevieve was an old soul, who found him and fell in love. Then, much like a Greek tragedy, their story ended woefully. The trust and courage it had taken to confess to Genevieve of the monstrosity he had become left him restless and, for once in his miserable existence, vulnerable. If not for her kindness, encouragement, and love, who knew what he would be doing and where.
This last week, though, he thought to explore the possibility of trying again. A particular woman, who frequented the café where he spent his early evenings drinking a brandy and reading The Daily Sun, had caught his particular interest. Her laughter aroused his curiosity in the few and far between moments when he contemplated actually living life. Her voice, whether chuckling or whispering to her friend, always made his body react in an animalistic way.
While they had never met, she seemed like someone he’d be interested in getting to know, at the very least, for a little while. Luc doubted very much he’d find another woman like the love of his life and often thought it would be better that way. How could he even begin to explain why he only ever spent time with her at night, and why he’d always be gone before the first sign of daybreak?

WHERE TO BUY

BIOGRAPHY
Born and raised in Toronto, Ontario, Layna discovered her love of reading at an early age. When she isn’t devouring salacious romance novels or writing, she enjoys losing herself in researching ancient history and mythology, weaponry, and hiking. She lives in Northern Ontario, with her husband and two daughters.
Layna is a member of the Romance Writers of America, and is a monthly contributor at 69 Shades of Smut. For updates on her upcoming releases, or to leave her a comment, you can find at: