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Michele Mills: Wine Makes Everything Better—Especially Post-Apoc
Thursday, May 5th, 2016

Wherein: I write a guest post about my ten all-time favorite post-apocalyptic/dystopian TV shows or movies without doing a lick of research—typing on laptop, with a glass of wine on hand. My debut, Die For You, was going live that night, therefore wine.

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Possible recipe for disaster, right?

Here’s how it went down. I’m just gonna leave this here, verbatim (spelling errors included):

  1. Jericho– Do you guys remember this show from TV? I can’t remember the name of a single actor in the series, but I remember that I loved it. It was about the world being annhililated by Nuclear War. Jericho was a little town in the country and little towns survived. The realistic everyday life of people surviving an extinttion event. Lots of drama and angst. I remember my husband thought there was too much “soap opera” in it, but I don’t know, I liked it just the same. I was sad when it was cancelled. Damn networks.
  1. The Last Ship– I love this show so much.
  1. Comet– That part in the book where Adam and Rachel are walking through Macys and she gets to pick out whatever she wants because all things are free now- that’s a homage to this movie. From the 80’s. I’m probably the only one who remembers it, but to me it’s special because it’s a girl-centric post apoc movie. Like those ever happen.
  1. The Walking Dead– I’m watching this on Netflix right now!!! I’m at the start of season 3, right after they slaughtered all the zombies who were hiding in the barn (and Sophia). This show is effing awesome. If you’re not watching it, you should.
  1. Logan’s Run– I remember being younger and this movie played on TV often. It’s seems to have fallen off the map nowadays, but really, it’s a great movie. A future with only young people. You’re killed if you even remotely start to grow old. Ouch. That would suck. What a great reimagining of our future. Epic storytelling. Makes me want to watch it again…
  1. Soylent Green– Am I even spelling this right? Oh, f#@K it, I’m not looking it up! I remember they were turning people into a food product that people were innocently eating. Yuck! Charleston Heston was young and not so much into the NRA back then. It was awesome. Freaky. The kind of futuristic sci fi that creeps you out and makes you think hard. Perfect.
  1. World War Z– Brad Pitt. Zombies swarming like ants. Brad Pitt. Need I say more?
  1. The Last Stand– This started it all in my brain. In fact I like to tell people Die For You is like The Last Stand but without all that God and evil stuff and way more romance. Oh, and not as long. Promise.
  1. Virus/Outbreak– It’s all a bit of a blur. I remember there’s a movie with Dustin Hoffman and lots of Hazmat suits and a movie with Matt Damon, both about a worldwide viral I tell you, I can’t get enough of movies like that. In the movie with Matt Damon I remember he watches a neighbor getting brutally murdered by someone pretending to be a cop. Yep, put a reference to that in my book. The ideas come from everywhere! Everywhere, I tell you! *pours more wine*
  1. Warm Bodies– The writing is amazing. Literary level, but about zombies. Oh, wait, I’m talking about movies! Yes, the movie based on the book was good, too. This book is why in Die For You, Trevor talks about putting a Van Gogh on the wall. This book (movie!) totally influenced me. I remember I sent a fangirl email to the author, couldn’t help myself.

Thanks for listening to my ramblings. Promise I’m much more coherent when not tipsy!

Oh, by the way, here’s that book of mine I was so excited about:

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Kindle | Kobo | Nook | Google | ibook | ARe

Love, in a hopeless place.

Catastrophe Series, Book 1

Two months after a virus took out civilization, Rachel Donnelly is the last living soul in California, as far as she can tell. Until she runs into a Marine sniper, battle-hardened but alive and healthy.

Adam Sanchez would love nothing more than a slamming session of I-can’t-believe-we’re-alive post-apocalyptic sex in the back of his Hummer. But Rachel’s fragility, inexperience—and much younger age—hold him back from exposing her to his raw, aggressive sexuality. If anything, Rachel needs protection. Especially from himself.

As they band together with other survivors to battle feral animals, violent ex-cons, and motorcycle clubs jockeying for power, Rachel grows stronger in mind, body, and spirit—strong enough to give the dangerously sexy Marine what they both crave.

The power of their passion rocks Adam’s world, bringing him to his knees—which, he discovers too late, is the worst possible place to be when danger springs from the shadows.

Warning: Contains a sexy Marine, a tattooed ex-con, a girl who blossoms into a sexually assured young woman, laughter despite the pain, m/f/m ménage, hope, love, and more bad language and violence than are strictly necessary.

Michele Mills teaches High School English to unruly teenagers and enjoys cooking for her husband and two sons. DIE FOR YOU, the first book in her new post-apocalyptic series from Samhain is available now. You can find her pretending to be professional on both Twitter and Facebook.

 

Elle James aka Myla Jackson: RT2016 in Vegas was a Blast
Wednesday, May 4th, 2016

The Romantic Times Convention was a lot of fun this year. How could it be anything else when it was located in Vegas, baby! I participated in 9 events! But this year, I took my two grown daughters and my new personal assistant.

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I could not have done it without them! Between bag stuffing, decorating and getting all of our stuff to and from the conference rooms, we put in over 10,000 steps each one of us every day of the conference. The conference rooms were a long way from our hotel rooms.

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My youngest daughter, Megan, and I went to the Thunder Down Under show at the Aria Hotel. And yes! I was called up on the stage. What a thrill to have 5 handsome Aussies dancing all around me! My 23-year-old daughter was green with envy! We also went to see the Zarkana Cirque du Soleil show. Hmm. I had a little too much wine and slept through half of it. Not surprised? I know.

The highlight of my entire RT experience this year was the SOS Military Tribute. The Honor Guard from Nellis, AFB presented the flag, and Brigadier General AJ Tata spoke about his experiences as part of the Army’s combat infantry. Our theme was military heroes. It was amazing! Wish you all could have been there. I had tears in my eyes.

This month, I have two releases. I know. Damned over-achiever! But that’s good for you, because it means more to read! DEADLY OBSESSION Book #5 in the DEVIL’S SHROUD series and a Romantic Times Reviews TOP PICK! and MONTANA D-FORCE book #3 in the BROTHERHOOD PROTECTORS series.

This is what you’ll find in DEADLY OBSESSION…

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 A war hero and a sexy realtor fight growing attraction while unraveling deadly secrets of a forgotten past

Available now!

A Romantic Times Reviews TOP PICK!

Amazon | Amazon UK | Kobo | Nook | iBooks |Googleplay

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MONTANA D-FORCE:

Former D-FORCE and troubled LA screenwriter struggle against their growing desire while trying to stay alive in the crosshairs of a murderous rapist. Releases May 3rd.

Free on Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon  | Amazon UK

Sign up for my newsletter to learn more about my upcoming release and for a chance to win great prizes! Hurry!

Elle James’s Newsletter

Lizzie Ashworth: Getting Ancient Rome Right!
Tuesday, May 3rd, 2016

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Happy May, Delilah fans! I’m Lizzie Ashworth, here for a day to bring you a bit of sexy fun. Right now I’m immersed in writing a historical romance set in Ancient Rome. It’s a love-hate relationship!

Research is at the heart of any historical fiction. Without details of place, dress, and social customs, an author can’t create a believable story. I love research but sometimes I just want to write the damn story.

Unfortunately, the further back you go in time, the harder it is to find information. For my current research on Rome, I’m regularly frustrated by gaps in the record. I want the story to be as accurate as possible. How do I know if I’ve got the right information?

I confess. Without Google searches, I’d have to fold up my tent and go home. One thing I’ve learned, though, is not to take one Google search as the whole story.

For example, one academic source insisted that women in Rome were not allowed to drink wine. (Wine was the ONLY alcoholic drink known in those times other than beer, which was considered disgusting and only for savages.) Initially, I found a few other sources that affirmed that information. I started writing scenes based on that information. Then one day I stumbled across an article that explained the women/wine thing.

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In early Rome, in the nearly six hundred years of its existence as the Roman Republic, the Senate made laws and oversaw government operations. Conservatism ruled the day. In those years, wine was forbidden to women except at special festivals where men weren’t allowed. Restricting wine except in women-only events meant women couldn’t get tipsy and provoke men with unbridled sexuality.

But in the mid-first century BC, Julius Caesar wrested control from the Senate (for which he was assassinated) and became the first emperor of the Roman Empire. Another four hundred years would follow under the rule of emperors. Social norms relaxed in the empire. Wine-drinking for women was no longer a crime punishable by death. Whew! By the time of my current work (50 AD), women had gained many social liberties including the right to own property, the right to divorce, and even the right to run their own businesses.

Notoriously, the empire also saw sex scandals, blood sport in the arena, and other excesses which have become the hallmarks by which most of us remember Rome.

As an author, I want to entertain readers with compelling stories about fascinating people. But I also want my stories to reflect the truth about those times. This means the work takes longer. Sometimes hours, days, even weeks elapse as I try to uncover some obscure detail.

Here’s an excerpt from my current work in progress, a continuation of the story of Caerwin and Marcellus. In Book I, Caerwin and the Roman Dog released last November, Caerwin is taken captive by Marcellus as his Roman legion crushes her native tribe in Rome’s quest to seize Britannia. I’m planning for a late summer release of Book II.

Excerpt…

Caerwin and the other women waited in the carriage. Outside her window, she watched Marcellus. The baggage wagon had pulled forward so that both conveyances waited in the shade of tall trees. A cluster of taverns and eating places lined the wide roadway.

Antius attended Marcellus who stood fully in her view outside the front of the carriage as he began divesting himself of his weapons. No one could enter Rome bearing war gear. Antius received each item, making a stack that she guessed would be put away in the trunk: the sword, the red sash around his midsection, the wide leather straps he wore across his chest bearing his medals of commendation. Caerwin shifted uncomfortably as her mind raced ahead to the inevitable conclusion of this process. Surely he wouldn’t…

The segmented torso armor clanked as it joined the pile, reminding Caerwin of all the nights she had watched him undress from the comfort of his bed. Or discomfort in the certain knowledge of what would come next. She wriggled on the seat, unable to look away.

Marcellus pulled his tunic over his head. Her mouth went dry. It had been weeks since she’d seen him undressed. He stood in the dappled sunlight in nothing but the cloth that wrapped his loins. The gods! Had there ever been a man of such beauty as this? Muscle curved across his shoulders and chest. A narrow line of body hair descended briefly down his lean abdomen. The wound on his bicep remained a puckered red line along the bulge. His hands, his forearms, the line of his jaw…

She licked her lips, absorbed fully in this vision of manhood standing just yards away. Everything about him incited her. Her breath came in short light bursts. Her pulse throbbed in her throat—and in less modest places. Moisture crept between her tightly clenched thighs.

Antius unfolded the long white yardage of Marcellus’ toga then sorted out the tunic with its two red stripes. Marcellus paused, standing fully facing Caerwin and meeting her riveted gaze. She gasped at the unmistakable knowledge in his dark eyes, the slight smile curling his lips. By the goddess Sabrina! He had intentionally positioned himself to disrobe in her view. He had purposefully captured her attention to display himself.

He turned slightly and shifted his hips so that the front of his loincloth gave full evidence of his pleasure in her attention. Her eyes closed in the sensation of him over her. She could feel him in her. She squirmed. Her nipples hardened. Her hands filmed with sweat. She wanted him in ways she’d never known possible.

“What mystery holds your adoration?” Junia said. Her forehead wrinkled as she gazed at Caerwin. “I must know.”

Caerwin’s face heated as she tore her gaze away from Marcellus. Just as he had placed himself in her view, he had also made it impossible for Junia or Porcia to see him. Unless Junia came to Caerwin’s position in the carriage.

“I…It’s…” Caerwin stammered. What could she say? Marcellus meant this for her, not to be shared with Junia.

Against her intention, her gaze drew back to Marcellus. The moment had passed. Marcellus had already shrugged into his tunic and Antius had begun to wrap the toga. “An eagle,” she said finally to Junia. “Powerful animal. Quite beautiful.”

“Indeed,” Junia said suspiciously.

~~~
Check out my Roman Pinterest page for some fascinating images and facts about that long lost world.

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Rainy Day Means Playing Hooky
Monday, May 2nd, 2016

I was supposed to have a guest today, but I’ll have to post that author’s blog tomorrow. Today’s…difficult? And her blog is on my computer, which I am no where near to, so here’s my day so far…

First off, I spent the night at my dd’s. Her two youngest (2 and 7) are both having their tonsils removed, and I have to babysit the 11-year-old and her gazillion animals. Since they had to be at the hospital an hour away at O-dark-thirty, we were all up at 3:00 AM.

Of course, just as they were leaving, the power went out, because hey, HORRIBLE THUNDERSTORM. I felt bad for my dd driving through it, but the Punkus (the 11-year-old) and I went back to bed. Nothing else to do.

And my alarm didn’t go off when it was supposed to, so guess who’s not going to school late, or at all? Yeah, Punkus can help me with the gazillion dogs. She even agreed to clean the cat box. :)

So the day feels like it’s half over already. We’re watching Mean Girls and still in our jammies. I told her mom the power came on too late for P to go to school. She never reads my blog, so she’ll never know. It will be our little secret.

Say a prayer for the wee ones, I’m headed back into the movie.

Irish Winters: In the Company of Snipers
Sunday, May 1st, 2016

Hi Everyone!

I’m Irish Winters, author of the romantic suspense series, In the Company of Snipers. First of all, thank you Delilah for having me on your blog. What an amazing opportunity to reach out and meet new people!

A little about me…

It’s all about your heart. I put my passion for writing aside when I married a Vietnam vet back in 1972, then worked over thirty years for the Air Force. I didn’t get serious about writing romance until five years ago while I was recovering from a crazy heart condition called a-fib. Needless to say, any heart problem is a pretty big deal. Mine made me stop and think about my priorities. About my family. My sons. My grandchildren. About death. About what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Until then, I hadn’t given my passion for writing its just due because, like the rest of us, I had a real job to pay the bills. Not anymore!

With my heart fixed and my priorities fixed along with it, I retired from Uncle Sam and got serious about writing. By the time I published ALEX, my “In the Company of Snipers” series was born, and another dozen guys were clamoring to have their stories told. So… along came MARK, ZACK, HARLEY, and CONNOR. Then RORY, TAYLOR, GABE, MAVERICK, and tougher-than-nails CASSIDY, my first female sniper with her own novel. ADAM joined The TEAM on April 30th. LEE and KY are close on his six later this year, with HUNTER, ERIC, and JAKE chomping at the bit for 2017. My “Snipers series” is 16 books great and counting. Is there romance involved? Hot, steamy sex? Is there intrigue and mystery? Does someone always have to die? Yes, yes, yes, and—yes!

So you see, it’s all about your heart. Fix your heart. Follow your passion. Run headlong off that cliff called life and live!

Come visit my guys and me at:

IrishWinters.com or on Facebook or at Irish Winters Blog

A little about ADAM, Book 11…

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He lives for the rush…

Thrill seeking ex-Navy SEAL Adam Torrey loves a good HALO jump. There’s nothing better than the exhilaration and freedom of a heart-stopping, high altitude plummet to earth—until he comes face to face with Shannon Reagan, daughter of the billionaire inventor behind the world’s most lethal military drone. She’s champagne and caviar to Adam’s beer and pizza. They have absolutely nothing in common. Except those damned drones…

She’s living the dream…

Her father’s dream. Not that Shannon has a choice. She already has everything she’s never wanted. Obscene wealth. Dubious fame. A failed marriage. An unwanted pregnancy. When her father’s integrity comes into question, she jumps at the chance to redeem him by accompanying the drone prototypes to Hawaii. Why not? It’s a simple flight across the Pacific with Agent Torrey. She’ll be in one of her father’s corporate jets. What could possibly go wrong?

Excerpt from ADAM…

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Rising back to the surface, he sucked in another gulp of air and returned below the waves. His chest burned with the strain of the shallow dive on his tender ribs, but he’d seen enough. Working his hands and fingers alongside her thigh and knee, he freed all of her except for her foot. The netting had wrapped itself around her ankle and held her tight, her leg stretched taut by the rising tide.

Damn. He needed air. Topside again, he found himself clinging to the cargo door beside her, more tired and weary than he’d ever been. She was really stuck. Cords of shuddering pain wrapped wickedly around his chest, limiting what little air he could suck in. Even if he could dive again, he couldn’t break the nylon without some kind of a sharp tool. Time was running out.

“How you holding up?” he gasped, wiping the spray out of his eyes. “Still with me?”

Shannon nodded, but fear shadowed her face. Yeah. She was scared and he was scared for her. She blinked the saltwater spray out of her eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m good. Don’t worry about me. I’m not leaving. I’ll get you out of here,” he promised, reaching one hand to smooth the sodden hair out of her eyes. Not only was she stuck, but every swell of the ocean against the cargo door and the downed craft splashed waves of saltwater back into her face and eyes. She wouldn’t need to sink in order to drown. The ocean would do it for her.

“I’m really stuck, huh?”

“Yeah. You are, but…” He looked around for something sharp to cut the nylon. “I won’t let you drown, Shannon. I’ll be right back.”

With a desperate lurch, she let go of the door and clutched his wrist, her fingernails digging into his skin for dear life. “Don’t. Please don’t… go.”

“Hey.” He covered her hand with his, wanting to instill hope where there was damned little of it to offer. “I need to find something to cut the net off your foot.”

She stared, her eyes bleak. This girl didn’t believe him. He hoped she wasn’t right in that conclusion. His ribs were on fire. Breathing had become an extremely difficult mechanical effort. Suck air in. Push air out. Pray to be able to do it again. She might be right, but he’d never tell her that.

“Shannon.” He brushed another handful of wet hair out of her face and pressed his forehead to hers. “Trust me. I’m coming back if it’s the last thing I do.”

She let go of him, her cheek flat against the only thing that kept her afloat and blinking with those big sad eyes as the ocean splashed another drowning wave into her face. Coughing it out of her mouth and lungs, those soft blues looked gray and utterly without hope.

Damn it. The only way to convince her that he meant what he said was to act, so Adam turned his back to her and swam for his life, intent of finding the first sharp thing he could. He staggered to shore, holding his right arm tight around his ribs to control the pain while he searched. Some of this debris had to be small enough and sharp enough, damn it. At last, a shiny piece of jagged metal. It would have to do.

He’d turned back to the water when he spied a black handle sticking up from the sand. He looked twice. Could it be? A knife? The best find of all. Crouching to one knew, he pulled it up. Damn. It wasn’t just a knife. It was a Night Stalker Bowie. He glared down the beach with different eyes now. Where the hell was Ramsey?

Since the confrontation before takeoff, Adam hadn’t thought twice about the ornery bastard, much less that he too might need rescue. It made no sense he could be there. No one in his right mind would’ve remained in the cargo hold during the flight. Between the high altitude, freezing temperatures and hypoxia, Ramsey had to have known he’d never survive without specialized equipment. An ugly thought sprang to Adam’s mind.

Sabotage.

ADAM is available at Amazon

A little about the series…

IN THE COMPANY OF SNIPERS

This multi-book series revolves around ex-Marine scout sniper, Alex Stewart, and his covert surveillance company, The TEAM, home-based out of Alexandria, Virginia. An obsessive patriot and workaholic, he created the company to give ex-military snipers like him a job and a chance to serve their country again.

In the Company of Snipers is a collection of 16 love stories. Each book is a complete romance in itself where, in the course of an active TEAM operation, one agent will come face to face with his or her demons. They’re all patriots and warriors, dealing with what they’ve lived through or the mistakes they’ve made. By the end of the telling, it is my hope that you, my reader, will come to realize along with my heroes that…

Love changes everything.

Ebooks, paperbacks, and audio are available on Amazon

Delilah Night: Writing Interracial Couples (Contest)
Friday, April 29th, 2016

Representation matters.  Seeing yourself and identifying with characters in media of all flavors is important. This is a really important topic and I could probably write volumes on how representation has intersected with my life and those of my loved ones, and academics break it down on a larger scale. But today I’m going to focus on one small aspect of how my life and quest for representation has played out in my writing—interracial couples.

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I’m a white woman married to an Indian-American man. As someone in an interracial marriage, I want to see couples like mine hooking up in romances. As a writer, I can make that happen. Capturing the Moment is my sixth story with an interracial couple, five of which feature a character who is Indian-American.

As a white woman, my representations of non-white characters are always going to be flawed. Despite being part of my husband’s family for a decade, a mother to two multiracial children, and a friend of persons of color, I have no live experience to inform my writing. I need to be very careful in my choices when writing non-white characters.

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When writing Arjun, my male lead in Capturing the Moment, I made a deliberate choice to make him Indian-American. The experience of being Indian-American is very different than that of a person growing up in India (which is not to imply that there is a monolithic experience of growing up in India). Friends and family members have a wide variety of experience as to whether or not they speak any of the twenty-three official languages of India, eat Indian food, watch Bollywood films, like Indian clothes, and so forth. Arjun has an Indian first name and an Americanized nickname. He speak Punjabi. He has strong ties to his family, which is very important culturally. That said, by virtue of growing up in the US he has the same cultural touchstones as Meg, myself, my husband and friends, and so forth. In other words, I had more wiggle room to create an authentic character.

My beta reading team also includes several Indian Americans, and my primary beta reader is my husband. Whether on this story or others, they have helped me improve with each piece. A beta sent me an article (http://writingwithcolor.tumblr.com/post/95955707903/skin-writing-with-color-has-received-several)  discussing why using food words like “chocolate-colored eyes” can be seen as offensive, and I have tried to ensure that I no longer do that (or fix it in edits). I once had a character speak in Hindi, and it was just awkward. In retrospect, a friend was right, and I was doing it to make them seem more “Indian.” They aren’t afraid to call me out and educate me, and I don’t give them white tears over it, although I have to sometimes make difficult choices because they have different opinions (for example, my husband has no issue with the food allegories, but I still chose to omit them). I even asked a friend to look over this blog post!

I was more nervous about writing Darany, the Cambodian tuk tuk driver, than I was about writing RJ. I erred on the side of Darany having stronger English skills than my drivers in Cambodia. Using dialects can reinforce racial stereotypes, even if that isn’t the intent of the author. I kept him in the background, in part, because he isn’t central to the story—I wasn’t writing a triad, and, in part, because one long weekend in Cambodia means I have no understanding of his culture beyond what my conversations with my drivers taught me. Not including him would be inauthentic as well—writing a story in a setting without including anyone from that culture, as well as ignoring that tuk tuks are the means of transportation for tourists.

That said, reading my stories isn’t a substitute for reading the work of actual authors of color.  If you want to read truly authentic Indian American characters, I highly recommend the Serving Pleasure series by Alisha Rai. (http://alisharai.net/) Other authors of color I recommend are Beverly Jenkins (http://beverlyjenkins.net/), K. A. Smith (https://authorka.wordpress.com/), Cathy Yardley (http://cathyyardley.com/about-2), Rebekah Weatherspoon (http://www.rebekahweatherspoon.com/blog/), Milly Taiden (http://millytaiden.com/), and K.M. Jackson (http://www.kmjackson.com/). You can also check out #weneeddiverseromance on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hashtag/weneeddiverseromance)

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Exclusive Excerpt (set in Preah Khan, the temple pictured above)

It was a ten-minute walk down a jungle lane to the entrance of Preah Khan. The only sound was birdsong and the whisper of wind in the leaves overhead. If there hadn’t been scaffolding on the exterior walls, it would be easy to imagine they were the first to rediscover the temple.

“I feel like Indiana Jones,” RJ said.

“I know what you mean.” Meg smiled. “Although, I wouldn’t trust you with a whip. Instead of the Holy Grail, you’d discover the nearest emergency room.” She pulled a guidebook out of the backpack he was carrying and opened to the appropriate page. “Luckily, I have a map. It looks like a big complex. If we follow the central path from this entrance, it’s a straight shot through. We can explore a little on either side and not lose the path.”

RJ blocked her view of the guidebook with his hand. “Don’t be so practical. What does Impulsive Tattoo Meg think?”

“Impulsive Tattoo Meg doesn’t want to spend the day lost, either.” She put the book away.

“Killjoy.”

“Ground Rule Number Four, Arjun. My game plan is law,” she said smugly.

“Given that Rule Number One has been tossed out the window, doesn’t that make it Rule Number Three?” He gave her a light smack on the butt, then stepped out of her reach. Meg had been known to retaliate.

She shook her head in amusement and lifted her camera. She aimed at him instead of the temple and pressed the shutter release.

“What was that for?” he asked, surprised.

“I want to remember you like this, here,” she said, reviewing the picture.

“When do I get to take a picture of you?” Not that he hadn’t been sneaking pictures all morning.

“What’s stopping you?”

He ran a finger along the neckline of her T-shirt. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s not going to happen. No nude photos of me can be the new Rule Number One.”

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You never forget your first love…

Meg and RJ were passionately in love. But that was six years and a broken engagement ago.

Meg has only one day in Siem Reap, Cambodia, before she must leave for her sister’s wedding in Bali. She fulfills her dream of taking a photograph of the sun rising behind Angkor Wat, one of the oldest temples in the world. But her joy is short-lived when she turns around to see RJ standing behind her.

RJ threw himself into work after Meg ended their relationship. He’s built a successful business, but it’s a hollow victory. He’s come to Siem Reap to win back the woman he’s never stopped loving. But first he has to convince her to spend the day with him.

Meg is as physically attracted to RJ as she ever was. Maybe the secret to finally getting over him is a one day only, no strings attached fling.

Can RJ win Meg back, or will she love him and leave him?

Capturing the Moment is now available everywhere!

  • Totally Bound (https://www.totallybound.com/book/capturing-the-moment)

About the Author

After 30 years of snowy New England winters, Delilah Night moved to steamy southeast Asia. While she doesn’t miss shovelling snow, she does miss shopping for bargains at Target.

In 2014, Delilah visited Cambodia for the first time and fell in love with Siem Reap. Many of her misadventures from that vacation (including the one with the monkey) made their way into this story.

Connect with Delilah on her blog (delilahnight.com), Twitter (https://twitter.com/Delilah_Night), or Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/DelilahNight?ref=hl&ref_type=bookmark)

Contest

Contest—Win a free copy of Capturing the Moment!

Who is your favorite author of color, of any genre?
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Maggie Wells: Food Fetishes
Thursday, April 28th, 2016

Apparently, I have a food fetish. I didn’t realize it until my editor pointed it out to me. We’d worked on three books together before she clued me in to the fact that I write some kind of sex/food combo in nearly every book.

Okay, every book.

What can I say? I like sex almost as much as I like food.

Wait.

Strike that. Reverse it.

Let’s face it, a body needs to be refueled at some point in the festivities. If the lucky couple happens to have some leftovers on hand, I say, good for them!

mweasycheeseLooking back, I think I’ve covered a nice variety. I’ve written more than one scene involving pastries. I’ve had them tuck into pasta, pizza, Thai noodles, birthday cake, and yes, Easy Cheese.

In FLIP THIS LOVE, Harley and Delaney fall back on a tried and true favorite—Chinese take-out. Here’s a little taste:

****

He leaned against the high footboard of the antique bedstead and watched as she cracked open a fortune cookie and extracted the tiny slip of paper from the crisp folds. She popped a hunk of cookie into her mouth and crunched down as she scanned the blurry print. Her forehead crinkled and her chewing slowed, something he wanted to protest, because really, watching the woman’s mouth when she ate was better than porn. She looked up at him, accusation flashing in her eyes, and thrust the paper at him.

“This is a crappy fortune. Gimme another one.”

He blinked and took the banished paper from her. “But that’s not how it works,” he murmured, squinting to make out the itty-bitty type.

Embracing adversity will give you strength.

Laney snapped her fingers then gave the brown paper bag a nudge with her foot. “It’s not even a fortune. It’s a slogan off one of those inspirational posters with the legless mountain climbers. Gimme another. You ordered enough food to feed an army. I know they didn’t give you only two.”

He turned to look at her, torn between laughing at her audacity and snickering at the pure ridiculousness of her statement. He chose what he was sure Confucius would say was the wiser course and did neither.

Keeping his expression as straight as a naked man faced with an indignant, nearly-naked woman could, he asked, “Legless mountain climbers?”

She waved one elegant hand and he almost gave up another cookie for the pleasure of letting her think she could order him about. “You know, the ones people put in offices. The ‘keep striving,’ ‘determination wins the day’ kind of crap those guys who do the corporate lecture circuit spew like hydrants.”

“I know. I have one.”

His admission gave her a moment’s pause. Blinking those big black eyes, she cocked her head and studied him as if he’d announced a fetish for farm animals. “You do? Really?”

Thoroughly amused by her consternation, he reached into the bag and pulled out another cellophane-wrapped cookie. Grinning, he extended his hand palm-up. The second she reached for the cookie, he closed his fingers around hers and held tight. “A picture of a wrecking ball and it says, ‘If someone gets in your way, show ’em your great big balls.”

Her laugh bounced off the walls like a champagne cork. Pleasure fizzed down his spine and pooled right in his groin. He held her hand until the last tinkling notes of her joy faded into awareness and her gaze dropped to his crotch.

Unlike Laney, he made no attempt to cover his rapidly intensifying arousal. There was no point. He wanted her to know exactly what she did to him. She ran her pink tongue over her bottom lip, and he released her hand abruptly. She let her gaze roam all over him and took her time meeting his eyes again. He made no apologies. Anything he might say to be polite would be little more than an outright lie, and they both knew it.

“Open your cookie, Delaney.”

She did as she was told, but this time she tossed the wrapper and cookie onto the nightstand, then uncurled the tiny slip of paper. Dark lashes fluttered and her gaze flew to his.

“Better?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, a coy smile curved her lips as she tucked the slip of paper under her pillow. His curiosity almost outweighed his desire for her. But, frankly, he didn’t give a rat’s ass what the fortune cookie said as long as she kept looking at him the way she was. Expectant. Impatient. Unmistakably interested in her view. Moving with purpose, he gathered the cartons propped along the length of his leg and dumped them back into the bag. He wasn’t above twisting and flexing a bit here and there, seeing as how she seemed to like it when he did. His pride also didn’t stop him from giving her the same ass shot she’d given him when he bent to drop the sack full of food to the floor.

The instant he righted himself, he had a lap full of Laney.

 

FLIP THIS LOVE by Maggie Wells

mwflip this loveCapture

Available now from Kensington/Lyrical Shine

ISBN: 9781601838018

Nothing draws a magnate like a steel magnolia…

Harley Cade is back in town—and the former bad boy is downright irresistible now that he’s donned a hard hat and set to work restoring the South’s finest homes to their former grandeur. While wealth may have gained Harley entry into high society, it’s going to take a lot more than a fat bank account to win the lovely Laney Tarrington.

Laney isn’t open to giving the self-made magnate a second chance—no matter how much she needs him. With her family fortune gone, Laney finally has to stand on her own two feet. The last person she’d ever lean on is Harley, the man who left her behind with nothing more than memories of the passion they once shared….

With the attraction still burning hot between them, Harley isn’t above seduction—or secretly buying Laney’s bankrupted family’s estate. After all, he no longer has to prove himself to anyone, least of all the daughter of Mobile, Alabama’s most prestigious family. But will pride keep Harley from gaining the biggest prize of all—a place in Laney’s heart?

Buy now!

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About Maggie Wells:

mwMaggieWellsMaggie Wells is a deep-down dirty girl with a weakness for hot heroes and happy endings. By day she is buried in spreadsheets, but at night she pens tales of people tangling up the sheets. The product of a charming rogue and a shameless flirt, this mild-mannered married lady has a naughty streak a mile wide.

Fueled by supertankers of Diet Coke, Maggie juggles fictional romance and the real deal by keeping her slow-talking Southern gentleman constantly amused and their two grown children mildly embarrassed.