Friday, October 9, 2015

Discover Otter Chaos by P.D. Singer and win a great prize!

Don't forget to enter the giveaway at the end of the post for achance to win either a print book, e-copy of book or otter ornament. Contest closes on October 16th. Book spotlight tour is sponsored by Pride Promotions.

Now let's take a look at otter Chaos...

Publisher: Rocky Ridge Books
Cover Artist: Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs
Release Date: October 9, 2015


Otter Chaos (includes Tail Slide)

Lon Ewing snowboarded in and turned economist Corey Levigne’s life upside down, introducing him to a world he didn’t know existed. Corey’s still adjusting to a boyfriend who shifts into an otter and raids the koi pond—and now Lon says Corey’s department chair is a werewolf? 

Wolves at the university, wolves in the bank—across Lon’s desk sits Professor Melvin Vadas and his hench-wolves, demanding a construction loan for the pack’s new lodge in the mountains. There’s just one little problem: the proposed building site is home to a breeding population of rare fish.

What do wolves care for stupid human rules, an otter who’d barely make a good snack, or one pesky human determined to protect the environment? Once they’re snout to snout with Corey and Lon there’s more than silverscale dace on the Endangered Species list.

Includes Tail Slide (the short that kicked off otter madness)

Fresh powder snow and running water in the Colorado back country call Lon like the moon calls the wolves. Belly-sliding to a good time on the weekends makes up for a workweek at a desk, and meeting Corey adds a whole new level of fun to snowboarding. 

It’s easy to slip away for time alone in the woods without raising suspicion, but how’s Lon to entertain himself when bad snow and a worse spill force them off the mountain too early? 

Never give an otter a box of Cheerios.

Pages or Words: 84500 (11000 Tail Slide, 73500 Otter Chaos) 276 pages total

Categories: M/M Romance, Paranormal


Threading his way between the tables to reach the group, Corey intended to set the glass down on the small table in their center without interrupting the flow. Maybe he didn’t really need to steady himself on Lon’s shoulder, but it was a good excuse to touch his boyfriend, get a little squeeze and a promise for later in at the same time. “Bet you need to wet your whistle.”
Lon jerked up hard enough to jostle Corey’s arm. Brown liquid slopped over the rim of the glass. At least it missed Lon’s instrument, but what—?
“No. Sorry. But no.” Lon twisted under the strap of his guitar. “We need to leave. Now.”
“Wha—?” Corey all but dropped the glass. “Why?”
“Now. Please.” Lon was up and sidling toward his guitar case.
Corey followed. What else could he do? The man who’d been gleefully leading fiddles and mandolins had cased his instrument and bolted out the side door. Lon barely waited on the porch of the old house turned brewpub, dashing to the passenger side of the RAV4 before Corey was quite outside in the chill spring night.
“Go, go, go,” Lon begged. “Quick.”
“Okay.” Corey tucked his long legs under the steering wheel and peeled out of the parking lot. “Want to explain the sudden need to be elsewhere?”
Lon’s knuckles practically glowed with their whiteness—if the armrest of the passenger seat breathed, Lon would have choked the life out of it three blocks back. “I smelled wolf.”
That again. “I did see Melvin come into the pub.” Corey aimed the truck toward south Boulder, because Lon had that trembly look where his dark brown hair and beard seemed to puff out bigger. Absolutely no reason to stress him, and every reason to take him home and pet him into exhausted, sweaty peace.
“Can you get a job at Harvard or Stanford or somewhere far, far away from CU?” Lon whimpered. “Or decide you don’t like me anymore?”
“No and no.” Corey gave his lover a stern look on the turn into the driveway. “I’m headed for tenure here and I love you. I don’t want to change either one of those things.” He pulled Lon across the console to plant a kiss in short, sleek, hair. “Let’s go look at the koi one last time, and then last one into bed is a rotten egg.”
“Rotten egg! Ick!” But Lon was diverted enough to scamper to the back yard, not too fast to be caught.

Buy the book:


Tour Dates & Stops:

Meet the author:

P.D. Singer lives in Colorado with her slightly bemused husband, two rowdy teenage boys, and thirty pounds of cats. She’s a big believer in research, first-hand if possible, so the reader can be quite certain PD has skied down a mountain face-first, been stepped on by rodeo horses, acquired a potato burn or two, and will never, ever, write a novel that includes sky-diving.
When not writing, playing her fiddle, or skiing, she can be found with a book in hand.

Where to find the author:
Publisher Website:

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Book Blast and Giveaway for A Haunting Desire

Don't forget to enter the giveaway for a chance to win a $20 Amazon or BN Gift Card. Book tour is sponsored by Goddess Fish Promotions and you can find all the tour stops HERE

Now let's take a peek into A Haunting Desire....

GENRE: Historical Romance


Murder in the streets. And passion in the shadows...

New Orleans, 1902

A killer walks the streets of New Orleans, eviscerating men and leaving them in the streets, and for madam Trula Boudreaux, it's bad for business. Trula needs help but she's not prepared for Zeke Barnes, the charming would-be savior who darkens her doorway-or the yearning he awakens. For while Trula knows well the delights of lust, she avoids love at all costs...

Investigating the killer was one thing, but Zeke can't help but be enchanted by the gorgeous mystery woman who runs an exclusive brothel. Caught between his duty to protect the city and his clear-as-day desire for Trula, Zeke sets about capturing Trula's heart-or at least a place in her bed. But with every moment Trula resists, Zeke falls into greater danger.

For his investigation into the haunted city and madam doesn't just risk his heart but both their lives.

Teaser Excerpt:

Zeke walked through the door, soaked to the skin, and she handed him a dry towel. “You’ll catch your death.”

His brows rose as his gaze moved from her destroyed hat to her wet dress. With a flick of his sooty lashes his midnight gaze shifted and took in Granny’s one-room cabin. The wobbly table, the bed covered with a colorful quilt, the rocking chair next to the fireplace, and the vivid altar. Then his gaze returned to her. She was all too aware of her sopping dress and lank hair.
His stare trapped her, a lamb cornered by a hungry wolf.

Her heart stuttered then beat far too hard and fast. She wrapped her arms across her chest. A useless protection. “Granny’s not here,” she said. Not that an old woman would offer any additional protection against the man who stared at her with such heat.

His lips quirked as if he could read her mind, as if he knew she was trying to escape her fate. “I hope she won’t blame us for squatting. We can’t drive back to the city in this storm.” A clap of thunder shook the small cabin, emphasizing his point.

She had to spend the night in Granny’s cabin with Zeke?

The quilt-clad bed drew her gaze. She stole a glance at Zeke.

He wore a grin. Damn him.

Buy Link:

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Julie Mulhern is a Kansas City native who grew up on a steady diet of Agatha Christie. She spends her spare time whipping up gourmet meals for her family, working out at the gym and finding new ways to keep her house spotlessly clean--and she's got an active imagination. Truth is--she's an expert at calling for take-out, she grumbles about walking the dog and the dust bunnies under the bed have grown into dust lions.

Her first romance was a finalist in the 2014 Golden Heart® contest. That book, A Haunting Desire released July 28, 2015.

Julie also writes mysteries. The Deep End (available now) is her first mystery and is the winner of The Sheila Award. Look for book two, Guaranteed to Bleed, in October, 2015.

Twitter: @juliekmulhern

Julie Mulhern will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

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Discover Missy Welsh's Take Your Pick and win one of three copies!

Don't forget to enter the giveaway for one of three copies of 'Take Your Pick'. Tour sponsored by Pride Promotions. Contest ends October 16th, 2015.

Now take a peek into 'Take Your Pick'....

Publisher: Missy Welsh
Cover Artist: Thorny Sterling
Release Date: October 9, 2015

Peter Kim has been in love with his five best friends since junior high. Now attending college, they share a house, but none of them know how Pete really feels.
Until the five of them come home early to find Pete masturbating while watching a video of them all on vacation near a river last summer.
Devastated and embarrassed, Pete is sure theyll kick him out come morning. Accepting him as the only gay one among them is one thing, but knowing he lusts after them? All of them? They couldnt possibly accept that.
But when Pete wakes up the next morning, hes shocked to discover his housemates have a proposition for him. Hell choose one of them each day, and they promise to do whatever he wants—including sex—for a full twelve hours.
And, yeah, theyre serious.

Pages or Words: 20,000 words

Categories: Contemporary, Erotica, Fiction, M/M Romance, Menage/Poly, New Adult

I watched them pile into the behemoth Devons mom had loaned for tonights trip up to Cleveland. They all looked good in their club clothes. Nothing flashy or too tight, but Id spread some fashion sense around and theyd believed me every time. Not a single girl would be able to resist my boys.
Of course, there would be plenty of boys whod be unable to resist them either.
Just like me.
I waved as they drove off, equal parts relieved and lonely. I didnt want to let them go without me, but I had been wound way too tight lately. I had on one other piece of clothing—the tightest pair of briefs I owned—just to help mask the boner I kept springing every time Id been near them for the past three days.
Something had to give, and it was going to happen in a gush of orgasmic heat all over my fist.

Buy the book:
All Romance eBooks—

Tour Dates & Stops:

Meet Missy Welsh:
Missy Welsh stares into space a lot, has conversations with cats, takes notes while people-watching, records conversations (not the ones with cats), named her laptop Norbert and her phone Pushkin, has backups of her backupsbackups, faints at the sight of a misused semi-colon, and will often ask socially unacceptable questions of strangers.
Basically, shes a writer.

Where to find Missy Welsh:
Missy Welsh Book News (email list),
All Romance eBooks Author Page,
Amazon Author Page,

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Thursday, October 8, 2015

Book Review- Doctor Who: Deep Time

The Doctor and Clara are on another wild adventure and the readers are along for the ride.

My Rating for Deep Time: 3.5 Stars

The Doctor and Clara find themselves on a ship called the Alexandria where they find out that Dr. Tippy, an archeologist is sure they are on the path to find the last Phaeron road. With the Doctor and Clara joining them, this mission will show that some secrets are best left alone.

I enjoy the Doctor Who television show and this was the first book I have read based on the series. DEEP TIME is an engrossing story with an author who knows how to weave a spell around readers. The story is engrossing, action packed and quite enjoyable from start to finish. Sometimes if you base a book off a TV show it can be a hit or miss but DEEP TIME delivers on all levels. From capturing the characters complex emotions and personalities to a mission that will transform them in the end; The author does a great job in keeping the reader glued to the pages and you really get a sense of who these characters are within the pages. I did love how the Doctor and Clara are just as lively here as they are on the show.

The mystery of the Phaeron’s consumes the crew of the Alexandria. These ancient people were tasked in mapping wormholes and now with a few relics found by humans, they are determined to find out where this once ancient race went to. But sometimes secrets are best left undiscovered for the Doctor knows what terrible secret of the Phaeron the humans may discover, one that should never see the light of day. I liked the interactions between the characters the best. The mystery surrounding the Phaeron and each member of the crew has an agenda or secret while on this mission. I liked how the author captures all the characters completely and gives them a voice in the story. Are each member of the crew doing this mission for the greater good or is something else guiding them, something sinister and dark?

DEEP TIME captures the essence of the TV Show and keeps the pace up perfectly. This is a great blend of futuristic and action-adventure that I gobbled up in one day. I can’t wait to see what other books based on the show are out to read next. If you enjoy the show, Doctor Who, then you will definitely enjoy DEEP TIME. This was the first book from author Trevor Baxendale and I am looking forward to seeing what else he has in his backlist to enjoy.

This is an objective review and not an endorsement




Pushing pass the snug wetness of her cleft, he toggled her engorged clit. With a startled gasp, she jumped.  She was the fickle sweet candy that dripped when made moist, demanding the attention of his rigid peppermint stick.

"Oooow!" slipped along with his fingers, it more the banana peel pratfall waiting, but avoided by deft urgency.  She moved with a slight hesitancy not knowing how he wanted her to react. 

“Trust me.” His finger continued to play.   "Let go... let me...."  Adventurous play was always the champagne cocktail enjoyed when uninhibited.

Lust without love was the ridiculous and vain and sad attempt of poverty to appear rich.  Love was candlelight that no windstorm could extinguish.   She felt the dizziness of the freedom of love.   

Could she give herself over so completely?  So many times, she brought herself to this point, but someone else stroking her core intimacy was the ultimate foray and the ultimate surrender.  Bit by bit she allowed the barriers to topple, opening herself both literally and figuratively to this longed for invasion.  She had always doubted anyone could truly play her cords of reaction with such precision, but with James it was as if he was in her mind, knowing the musical score before she even created the arrangement.  He made it easy to let go.  So, her answer came in a rush of soft, pleading murmurings,  "So good... more... more... touch me more... please."   Why was it so easy?  Love was the natural lubrication.

Her words drizzled around him, plinks of sound splattering against his ears like a soft summer rain.  The encouragement wasn't needed, yet, he enjoyed knowing he could bring these feelings forth, that he could make her pussy flow with the simplest touch.  He wanted more, wanted to hear her beg louder, scream with need, take her to mountain tops and push her off the edge of pleasure into bliss.  The afore were the feathers of the broad wing of grand passion.  None of this was actual perceived thought, but more the subconscious, steering his every movement instinctively.

He moved two fingers downward and into her cunt, dilettantes shoving hard, burying inside her, not satisfied with entry alone, but discovery.  He twisted fingers, wiggled them, learning what pleased her more and then duplicating that movement.  Compromise was always an effective umbrella but a poor roof, so just her sate and enjoyment was an incomplete act.  He sojourned for more, peering beyond wetness, trekking for orgasmic rapture.  

Granted, she was so wet they slipped in easily and she pressed herself against him, hard, helping all to achieve depth. 

Chaos was oft the music score upon which passion was written.  His fingers were independent spelunkers searching.  “Can you feel that?" 

“Yes... oh yes... more!"

Discovery was said to be an accidental meeting of a prepared mind.  For months he had told her what he wanted of her.  His details were seductive and succinct.  She encouraged that dance as if a poem and the movements were words.  These fingers were just the introduction to a greater want, one she willingly shared.

One more finger was granted the pleasure of her warm wetness.  Cyndy gyrated a raw acceptance of its entry.  Her base reaction was the frolic of the instinct of fuck.  These three fit so well, and campaigned to excite her further.   "More." 


"More.  I have to have more!"

"Fuck harder to show me your deep crave."

"There.  Can you feel my want?"  Her movement was so primal, as she grinded on his hand.

One additional finger was added and he pumped her.  Using aggressive handholds and motion, James forced his will on the soft lips of a willing cunt. 

Pain was oft the vinegar from the wine of hope.  She knew his hope, full penetration and the harmony was, that was also her hope.  So the pain was inconsequential, yet, in some inexplicable way skated the rim of dark pleasure as her hips bucked against him, and her pussy spread wider and wider, making it easy to slip his entire hand inside her.  It was the playful dog that frolicked in the sweet Spring meadow, romping, rolling, digging, and fetching.   

It took no time before she went wild, beyond feral, fucking his hand with primitive urgency.  She the aboriginal vessel of his pleasure, gifting uninhibited thrusts to prove her value as well as her exaggerated need to please him.  She was almost oblivious that every actions she provided also pleased her, but her body was not and the bliss was transcended in her fucking harder and harder.  Had she ever been fisted?  She had done herself, but his hand was far more the challenge and brought more celebrated rewards. 

Blood redirected to his crotch, as his cock grew and throbbed and pushed, desperately wanting to exchange his fist with his rigid, ravenous shaft.  Fisting was a metaphor, but fucking was, simply that.  Good fucking was the only investment that never failed lovers.  Found under the oppressive grip of an adolescent wanting to awkwardly put his cock into a willing cunt, he moved as if he was dulled by the pain of stupidity.  A cleansing breath evacuated some urge, and lathered a resolve to slow down.

Control it.

Fight it. 

He wanted her to get closer, and then cool her down and bring her back up and cool her down.  A roller coaster of sensations that would ignite the savage slut she covered with her librarian facade.  He wanted every shard of inhibition dissolved, and he wanted her orgasm to be like none other.  He could only do that by denying himself just a bit more.  He could tell she was on the brink and he yanked his hand out.

"No!  Fuck me...  Damn you!  Fuck me.  Now!"

Imagination was intelligence with an erection.  Power was the grandest of all aphrodisiacs.  James drove his fist, lifting her onto her toes.  "I'll fuck when I fuck you.  Understand?"


He expressed a bit more force.  "Do you understand?"


The hand was corporally removed.


In response, he ground his cock against her sopping wet cunt but didn't enter her.  Whimpers bled through her lips.  Incomprehensible sounds followed.  She fought against her captured wrists.  Her hips wiggled and strained, inartistic movements, demanding his cock find its place.  Cyndy was full of barbarous desire, roughhewn with a purpose, willingly rejecting his authority, all for the want of his cock, deep in her pussy.  This uncivilized crave made her akin to the rutting beasts that howled, cutting night's darkness with shameless shards. 

He kissed her neck giving her the very autograph of love.  A line was a dot that went for a walk as his kiss drifted from the initial spot. 

"That's lovely."

"You are so easy to be close with."

She was the crazed woman that hoarded used tea-towels and polished sterling silver spoons.  She had freed herself to become one with whatever he was about.

Her pussy lips opened easily and this time he crooked his fingers inside her wet heat, slightly lifting, stirring her further as he inhaled her musk.  It made him ache with the near pain of want. Withdrawing his fingers, he snapped the sticky tips against her clit.  He knew the pain would jointly arouse her more yet keep her orgasm at bay. 

Imagination was, of course, what a fertile mind did for a living.  Cyndy did not latch onto the concept that he was deliberately delaying her pleasure.  She had boarded the fancy teacup ride and was spinning freely. 

James was a naughty man who wore the halo of a schoolboy.  Each action was a seductive liar, polishing an elaborated Paul Bunyanesque tale.

And then abruptly, his entire fist pressed against her vaginal hole, pressed and pushed and pushed and pressed until she was screaming and pushing back.  "Yesssssss!  Do it!"  Thoughts were the fertile seeds of action.  Her words were the pop music of their lust, and that rock and roll was the fast food that ate the world.  Could skepticism be the chastity of their minds?  She hoped not, she wanted all he could give; immediately.

And he did.  He plunged his fist into her pussy. Her flame-hot, creamy walls clamped around his hand and she fucked it as hard and wildly as she could.  It filled that empty ache that had been part of her world for all too long, not just the physical fist-fucking but all the emotions attached to it.  (to be continued)

We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at (Write - Blog Dawn - in subject line) and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a free ebook (choose erotic or romantic thriller) and add you to any future mailings.

Angelica Hart and Zi ~ Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane - -