Just thought I’d share a pretty new cover—and tell you about the great deal going on now.
The second book in the Night Fall series will be released toward the end of this week. Love vampires? Love sexy threesomes? Like a little suspense with bite? Well, you’ll love Truly, Madly…Deadly!
But before the book releases, I want to be sure you’ve read the Book #1 — Sm{B}itten! So, I made sure you have no excuses left for why you haven’t read Sm{B}itten—I entered it into Kindle Unlimited, so it’s FREE to KU subscribers, and just $0.99 for everyone else!
I’d love to hear from you. Have you read Sm{B}itten? Are you excited for Truly, Madly…Deadly? Are you ready for a fast-paced, paranormal series?
Comment for a chance to win a free copy of another Night Fall story, Silent is the Knight!
UPDATE: The winner of this contest is…Elaine Swinney!
* * * * *
That’s right. You read that title correctly. I’ve officially popped my paranormal cherry. Woo Hoo!!!
And I did it in style too!! In a paranormal boxed set with 9 other authors who I adore!!!
Violet’s Shadow is my first toe dipping novella into the paranormal pond and I’ll admit it. I was nervous. Paranormal to me has to be impeccable to be good and I didn’t just want it to be good, I wanted it to be great!!!
So here’s a tiny taste of Violet and her journey to be Alpha of a pack of Shadows she didn’t even know existed…
Two weeks alone in a secluded cabin is music to Violet’s ears. Until she sees a shadow in the forest with red glowing eyes. Red eyes she’s seen in her dreams for as long as she can remember. Eyes that make her want to forget the rest of the world. But she doesn’t believe in fairy tales anymore.
Rayden was sent to protect her. To keep her safe. Nothing more than to guide her as she transitions into a Shadow and takes her rightful place in the pack. What he finds instead is the mate he’s been unwilling to search for and a passion so fierce he’ll never be able to walk away.
Violet’s spent her entire life aching to belong and she finally finds it in the pack of Shadows she is destined to join. Everything she’s ever wanted in life and love is finally at her fingertips if she’s brave enough to embrace…her Shadow.
And what do I want to do to celebrate? Have a contest of course!!
So comment below and tell me what you love about paranormal
and who your favorite paranormal authors are???
I’ll pick a random winner who will win an e-book of their choice and maybe some extra swag too cause it’s awesome and shiny!!!
Sexy and we know it! They’re on the hunt after your heart. Discover 11 brand new passionate tales of friendship, desire, wolves, survival, and redemption. Escape to another world, another place, and another romance…
Warning: Contains wild heroes and heroines, tempestuous passion, old secrets, new discoveries, and pack ties binding them together. Sometimes love’s greatest challenge is romancing the wolf…
Jennifer Kacey – Violet’s Shadow (Shadow Mates)
Violet’s spent her whole life searching for where she belongs. Two weeks alone in a secluded cabin is music to her ears, until she sees a shadow in the forest with red glowing eyes. Rayden was sent to protect and guide her. Instead, he finds the mate he’s been unwilling to search for and a passion so fierce he’ll never be able to walk away. Everything she’s ever wanted in life and love is finally at her fingertips if she’s brave enough to embrace…her Shadow
Desiree Holt- Heart of the Wolf (The Devora)
Saranna DeWylde The Ardennes Curse (Woolven Secret)
Virginia Nelson – Odd Mate (The Odd Series)
Gayle Donnelly – Running with the Wolf (The Cascadia Wolves)
Cara Carnes – Redemption’s Forgiveness (The Rending)
Brandy Walker – Under Her Spell (Keystone Predators)
Rebecca Royce – Always (Dragon Wars)
Heather Long – Wolf with Benefits (Wolves of Willow Bend)
Melissa Schroeder – The Alpha’s Saving Grace (Lonestar Wolf Pack)
*~*~*~*~*
Need something to wet your whistle?
May I suggest a delicious bite out of the Members Only series…….. 😛
Jennifer Kacey is a writer, mother, and business owner living with her family in Texas. She sings in the shower, plays piano in her dreams, and has to have a different color of nail polish every week. The best advice she’s ever been given? Find the real you and never settle for anything less.
I want to thank the uber talented and extremely generous, Delilah Devlin, for hosting me today. Leave a comment for the chance to win one of my digital titles.
We probably all remember the old saying: To error is human—forgive divine. As human beings, it’s in our nature to make mistakes. It’s called being human. I think it’s also in our nature to try and correct our mistakes whenever possible. This is what I had to do with the second novella, KIRA, from my BDSM series, Heartache and Hopeful.
I originally wrote KIRA back in late 2012/early 2013. At that time, I hadn’t done my due diligence in researching BDSM so I went with the preconceptions (and misconceptions!) that society held about this alternative lifestyle.
The story centers around Kira and her spanking needs. Instead of having Kira embrace her urges as healthy and normal, I wrote her as being ashamed of her innate desires. Why? Because I personally don’t like pain and thus couldn’t conceive of anyone who would. Big mistake…luckily one that was easy to correct. All I had to change the blurb and tweak a couple of the loves scenes.
Here’s part of the old blurb:
When Kira Schafer’s mega-millionaire—and seriously controlling—father insists she marry one of his company’s junior executives or get cut out of the will, her decisions is an easy one. As much as she loves her dad, she won’t be bullied into a marriage where her needs aren’t met. So she leaves the big city to settle in the small Nebraskan town. And maybe, just maybe the quiet, country life will calm the deep-seated spanking urges which have plagued her for years.
And the new and improved one:
When Kira Schafer’s mega-millionaire—and seriously controlling—father insists she marry one of his company’s junior executives or get cut out of the will, her decision is an easy one. As much as she loves her dad, she won’t be bullied into a marriage where her needs aren’t met. So she leaves the big city to settle in a small farming town. The only drawback to her plan is the lack of bondage clubs in rural Nebraska. But Kira knows abstaining from her spanking urges is but a small price to pay in exchange for her freedom.
In the old version, I also created an inconsistency in Kira’s character… She won’t marry a man who can’t satisfy her, yet she wants to calm her spanking urges. In hindsight, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Duh, right? <grin> It’s my hope that my revised edition is a truer account of what a practitioner in the leather community might actually think and feel.
So what mistakes have you made and what did you do to correct them? Leave a comment for the chance to win any one of my digital titles. Thanks again to the awesome Delilah Devlin for letting me hang out with her today.
Now please enjoy this excerpt from KIRA:
Hunter wrestled with the wildly thrashing bundle. Kira might not be bigger than a minute, but she had a lot of fight in her. Of course, being frightened usually gave a person extra strength. And by the way Kira was twisting, she had to be scared out of her mind.
He forced his mind to ignore the fact she was clad only in a towel. A towel that was fast slipping to the ground with each torque of her body. Sweat trickled into his eyes from the exertion. That and the wool ski mask he wore to ensure if she did get free, she wouldn’t recognize him. Finally, he wrapped her in a bear hug with her arms pinned to her sides. He took care not to hurt her, just get her attention. He mentally groaned at the soft feel of her curves.
“Settle down,” he mumbled in his best menacing voice. He didn’t need her identifying his voice either. He shook her once when she maintained her resistance. “I won’t hurt you.”
The clean, cotton bag over her head bellowed in and out, clearly distinguishing the outline of her nose and mouth. By the rapid movement, she was probably going to hyperventilate, maybe even pass out. Not at all what he wanted, but having her conked out would make the four hour drive to Omaha that much easier.
“Why should I believe you?”
Though her voice was muffled, she nonetheless sounded pissed. At least she’d stopped struggling. He lessened his hold.
Big mistake.
The instant his arms relaxed, Kira leaped from his grasp. Her bare foot connected to his leg just above the kneecap. He grunted at the impact and went down hard on his other knee. He reached for her, only managing to snag the towel as she danced away. For a long moment Hunter forgot to breathe. He was too distracted by her glorious nakedness for such a trivial concern.
A rosy flush covered her skin, whether from fighting him or her shower, he didn’t know. Sleek legs, with a delectable mesh of hair at the apex, flared to hourglass hips then a slender waist. Two perfectly proportioned breasts, neither too big nor too small, jutted forward, their pink centers puckered tight.
Almost too late, Hunter saw her pull back one supple leg. He only just dodged the kick blindly aimed at his head. Kira snatched the bag from her head. Unmindful of her nudity, she lunged for the small bed against the far wall and retrieved a wooden baseball bat from underneath. She wielded it with the power and confidence of Babe Ruth.
Great job, Rice. She’s seriously pissed and now she has a weapon. Fucking great.
She swung right at his skull. If he’d moved a nanosecond slower, his brains would have landed in next week. He vaulted to his feet and got into a fighting stance, his hands up. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She swung again. “Really? Is that why you broke into my place? Because you don’t want to hurt me?” Another swing.
Hunter stumbled backwards to avoid her bludgeon and tripped over his feet, losing his balance and tumbling to the floor in a heap. She towered over him, the bat raised high above her head.
Under any different circumstances, he’d take the time to admire Kira’s exquisitely naked beauty. But with the imminent threat of her bashing in his cranium, he thrust his hands up in complete surrender. “Kira, wait! It’s me, Hunter!”
KIRA is also part of the Hot Summer Nights, Third Collection, to be released on July 7th. Twenty-two authors with some smokin’ hot romances to heat up your summer nights. Pre-order your copy here: Pre-Order. Please note that Hot Summer Nights cannot be claimed as the giveaway prize.
ABOUT LYNDA
Lynda has no doubt she’s a born storyteller.
She remembers her first “story” when she informed her kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Downing, that her mom had just had a baby boy. Her mother hadn’t, of course, and while Lynda got thoroughly admonished for her “storytelling,” she wasn’t deterred from what would become a lifelong passion.
From made-up tales centering around her favorite TV shows as a kid to today, Lynda love telling stories! Stories with handsome guys and spunky gals, that always…always end with a happily-ever-after.
Her romances are full of passion, with heat levels that range from hot to sizzling! She’d been a finalist in numerous writing contests, including RWA’s® prestigious Golden Heart® in 2010. Please join her for laughter, love and that all important HEA.
Lynda live in Reno, NV with her electrician husband of thirty (and counting) years and our two pampered pooches. Feel free to visit her at www.lyndabailey.net. Or drop her an email at lynda@lyndabailey.net
UPDATE: The winner of this contest is…Debbie Watson!
* * * * *
Stories where a woman is torn between two lovers are so powerful. There’s a built in angst. You know someone’s going to be hurt, or maybe even all of them in the process. I suppose that’s why I love writing menage stories—in the end, the heroine doesn’t have to choose just one, and miraculously, the men love her enough to be willing to share. That’s the ultimate fantasy, don’t you think?
But let’s get back to those angsty triangles. I think my favorite is Sabrina—not the 1995 version, starring Harrison Ford, Greg Kinnear and Julia Ormond—but the lovely, 1954 version with Humphrey Bogart, William Holden, and Audrey Hepburn… Yummy!
What are your favorite Lover’s Triangle stories, in movies or books?
Comment for a chance to win Reined In or a short story on this carousel!
* * * * *
Who says a cowgirl can’t have it all?
Lone Star Lovers, Book 7
Stormy is a rancher’s daughter through and through, and although she went away to college, her soul is firmly rooted in home ground—and the cowboys she grew up tormenting. When she hears her father might be selling the ranch, she packs her bags and high tails it for home, terrified she might never get another chance to lasso the heart of one of her cowboys before the hands scatter to the four winds.
For Cam and Joe, foreman and wrangler on the ranch, Stormy was a pain in the seat of their Wranglers. But when she roars back onto the ranch, the spoiled brat they remember emerges from the cloud of dust in skin-tight jeans and spike heels and all grown up.
It only takes a hot second to figure out she’s hell-bent on seduction. But if she thinks they’re going to make it easy for her to pick which cowboy she wants most, she’s sadly mistaken. And who says she has to choose one?
Warning: Contains cowboy-style spanking, flogging, and hog-tying. And a cowgirl who loves every minute of it.
The little red Miata ground to a halt, kicking up caliche to pepper the porch’s underskirting like shrapnel.
Joe Halloran suppressed a grin and tipped up the cowboy hat riding low over his brow with a lazy finger. Minutes ago, when the sound of an engine had screamed down the long private drive, he’d groaned because this was his first break of the day and he really wasn’t up for company. But as soon as he’d seen who it was, he settled deeper into his rocking chair.
Trouble had arrived. And about damn time.
Without moving from his chair, he slid his boots inches to the left on the porch railing to get a better view as the driver ground the gearshift into park. Joe glanced to the side. “What the hell do you suppose she’s doin’ here, Cam?”
Seated beside him, his buddy grunted from beneath the hat he had dipped low enough to shade his entire face. “Not a clue. Suppose her old man let somethin’ slip?”
Joe gave a snort, lowered his brim again and settled deeper into his chair, ready to play. What had been the end of a hellacious day of work had suddenly taken a mighty interesting turn.
A car door slammed. Between the porch slats, he watched a pair of long legs scissor with brisk precision. High heels tapped on the steps.
Still, he didn’t give a single indication he’d heard her. Instead, he took a deep breath and scratched his bare chest.
A fingernail dug into his forearm. “Hey, cowboy.”
He muttered but didn’t move a muscle. She knew his damn name.
She poked him again with her nail. “Cowboy, wake up.”
The hint of irritation in her silky voice gratified him in a way that didn’t bear too much introspection. He leaned back his head and squinted at her. “Peaches,” he exclaimed, a grin stretching his mouth. “Long time, no see.”
Stormy Jordan narrowed her gaze into a mean glare. Yeah, she hated the nickname because she knew he’d given it to her based on the shape of her pretty little ass. To make matters worse, the name had stuck like glue when her daddy had begun calling her it too. Funny, she’d never told him why she detested it so much.
“Cowboy,” she said, her voice dripping with syrup. “How ’bout you move your butt and go get my bags?”
Again, he tipped his hat up to stare into a pair of silvery-blue eyes that cut him like a Ginsu knife. “You talkin’ to me, ma’am?” he asked, being deliberately slow because he knew it irked the hell out of her.
She lowered her pale brows over that cold stare. “Well, who the hell else would I be talkin’ to? My bags? I’d like to take a shower. I’ve been on the road since dawn.”
Still, he didn’t move. He let his gaze slide over her curves, taking a detour downward then back up. When his gaze reached her reddening face again, one side of his mouth twitched. He could almost hear the steam hissing.
She tapped a toe impatiently. “Since you don’t have anything better to do…”
Joe cut a glance at his buddy.
Cam’s lips tightened, but he settled deeper in his seat, resetting his hat to shade his eyes—giving Joe his silent approval to do his thing.
Hiding a grin, Joe bolted forward in his chair, rising so swiftly she didn’t have a chance to move back. “Sure thing, ma’am,” he said, crowding her against the rail. “I’ll get on it right away, ma’am.” Only he made another slow perusal of her body to make sure she knew he was talking about more than her damn suitcases.
She cleared her throat and sidestepped him. “Cowboy, don’t get ’em dirty.”
“Now, sweetheart, that would be a cryin’ damn shame.”
Cameron Mitchell hid a smile as Stormy stomped to the far side of the porch and Joe ambled down the steps to her car. Those two had always been at each other’s throats. Watching them spar was more exciting than any UFC fight and far bloodier.
Still, as much as they poked and prodded at each other, he’d never seen either of them back away. And Stormy always came back for more, so he assumed she liked it.
Cam and Stormy’s interactions were quieter, but no less intense. The woman had a way of setting a man’s libido on fire even while she did her best to make him feel two feet tall or like he had two left feet. It was a talent. One that had kept the boys flocking all over this very porch when she’d been in high school. Which had kept Joe mean and edgy, because he’d wanted her even back then when she was still jailbait.
The years hadn’t dulled the edges of her attraction. Sun-streaked blonde hair was held up in a clip, exposing her delicate neck and ears. Her black, button-down blouse was two sizes too small, emphasizing the swell of her B-cup breasts and revealing the sliver of bare skin between the shirt and the top of her short, fanny-hugging black skirt. That hint of firm belly was enough to make Cam hard enough to hammer a nail.
He recrossed his legs and interlaced his fingers to let them rest above the swell of his cock. If she looked close enough, she’d know how she affected him. Even after all this time.
Maybe it was wrong, but he’d lusted after Stormy Jordan since she’d sprouted breasts and learned to wag her bottom like a siren. He and Joe had come to the Jordan family ranch when they were in high school, looking for part-time work as wranglers, thinking cowboy work couldn’t be that hard. Hell, girls dug a man in chaps and a hat. They’d stayed long after graduation because of their love for the ranch…and maybe, their enduring attraction to a certain wild filly.
Both he and Joe had been objects of her youthful attempts at flirting, and out of respect for her daddy, they’d deflected her. But seven years ago, he’d had enough of dreaming about her and made the mistake of surprising Stormy with a kiss. He could still remember the softness of her lush mouth, the way her curves had fit against him. Something he’d never told Joe about and never would.
The kiss hadn’t meant a thing to Stormy. She’d probably only been experimenting and forgotten about it long ago. But he hadn’t. And sometimes late at night, he pulled out that memory when he needed release. Her face, that mouth, had inspired many a late-night fantasy. However, he knew she wasn’t for him. Stormy Jordan was destined to be some rich man’s trophy, not some cowboy’s girl.
Joe popped the trunk and walked around to the rear of her car. Two cases, both leather and with a designer logo stamped all over the hide, lay inside. He picked up the first and set it on the ground beside him, then hefted the second, larger case. Footsteps clicked down the steps, but he didn’t glance around the open trunk. He placed the large case on the gravel road and slammed down the trunk.
He bent to pick it up, but it slid to the side, landing hard. Dust billowed up and laid a fine powder over the burnished leather. He wrapped his fingers around the handle, but before he lifted the case to stand it up, a foot landed on the back of his hand, the heel grinding.
Joe pursed his lips and aimed a glare at the woman whose features were set, her eyes alert. “Better lift that shoe, sweetheart, or more than your suitcase is gonna be sittin’ in the dirt.”
“I told you to be careful,” she said softly.
“Darlin’, sometimes I can be,” he murmured slyly. “But I think this thing needs a firmer hand.” Without thinking of any consequences, only of his need to test her resolve, he let go of the case and twisted his wrist to grab her ankle. Then he slowly slid his hand up her calf and over her knee.
Her soft skin felt like silk. The temptation was too strong to resist. She didn’t pull away. Didn’t gasp or flinch. Joe kept on going, his hand rising up her inner thigh. When he was inches from feminine heat, she called him on his bluff and reached down to shove his hand away. “Think you can handle it from here, cowboy?” she said, her voice sounding strained.
Joe drew in a long slow breath, inhaling her spicy scent. “Why don’t you just wait and see?” He lifted the bag, reached for the smaller one and turned on his heel.
Behind him, he heard the crunch of her heels. He lifted his gaze to Cam’s and arched a brow. What the hell had just happened? He’d almost felt her up right there with an audience.
Cam’s expression was neutral, and he glanced away.
Joe’s cheeks warmed as he trudged up the steps, Stormy right behind him.
They had Stormy to themselves. Was she aware they’d be the only ones in the house for the weekend? His mind spun with the possibilities. Possibilities that didn’t have to leave Cam in the dust—if he was willing to play along. But mostly Joe thought about how soft her skin had felt beneath the scrape of his callused palm, and the little quiver he’d detected right before she’d snatched away the prize.
He had years of Stormy fantasies stored away. A whole damn menu of acts he wanted to perform—some not legal in most southern states. If she gave him even the slightest hint she was interested, he wasn’t going to let a little thing like the fact she was daddy’s little girl get in the way. Not this time. Not when Stormy’s daddy had all but given him his approval to do whatever it took to make sure Stormy figured out what she really wanted…or who.
Thank you, Delilah, for hosting Ancient Ties and me here today!
REAL LIFE VS. WRITING LIFE
I’ve been writing erotic/sensual romance for over a dozen years now and love it. Except when I can’t stand it. That’s only when writer’s block starts, and I worry I’ll never write another book again. Apparently, that’s common amongst writers. Whew!
Generally, when I write, I have to turn off the TV and have either silence or listen to my tenor CDs. Josh Groban, Il Divo, Mario Frangoulis, etc. Sometimes I can’t turn off the TV because of some important news event, which seems to happen more and more, unfortunately. I’m not getting political. I’m just talking about how hard it is to write and revise hot love scenes with real life going on in the background on TV.
I’ll have to re-read sentences and paragraphs over and over to make sure I’ve gotten them right—afraid I’ll miss something important on TV, and afraid I’ll miss or misuse a word on the computer screen. Yikes! But, I always make it through and am able to submit or self publish a book. And real life continues on.
We all have to divide our time as writers. I don’t have kids or pets, but I have a husband. I have a hard time imagining how an author with kids manages to concentrate. They say if you want it, you’ll do it. That’s right. But it can still be hard to immerse yourself in your story when real life intrudes.
Now, I’m also here to talk about my latest release, Ancient Ties. I’m so proud of this book. In 2005, my debut novel came out to so many 5 star reviews that I was petrified I couldn’t write a follow up. I have, but your first, especially to great reviews, is the biggest thrill.
Ancient Ties is a time travel to 2nd Century Roman Britain in Aquae Sulis. The first time, as a single gal, I visited Bath and the Roman Museum and Pump Room, I took a photo of a Roman soldier’s tombstone. When the pictures were developed, there was a haze over the center carvings, the edges were clear. I told everyone the soldier had come out to meet me. When I went back a few years later with my new hubby, I took the same photo. It came out completely clear — evidence that my soldier approved of my husband. Many years later, when I started writing, my first thought was that Roman soldier and what would happen if a small town school teacher from the US (me) visited a crumbling villa, stepped back to 161 AD, and met a Roman soldier (oops, not my husband). Below are the two photos. I look at them today and shiver a little. Believe me, that hazy photo was the only hazy photo I took on that first trip.
I’m particularly proud of the cover too. I created it! The top photo is from http://romancenovelcovers.com. The two lower photos are ones I took on my trips to England and show scenes from the book.
Below is my very first review, before the book was even released, from Just Erotic Romance Reviews (JERR), and it holds a special place in my heart. Below that is the fabulous RT review, also special.
Just Erotic Romance Reviews – 5 Stars
“This absorbing tale of time travel left me breathless with anticipation and enticingly affected by the deep emotional connection between Janney and Marek. Although a little slow to start, the storyline becomes explosive, drawing me in with the fascinating historical significance of the Romans in ancient Britannia. The characters are captivating with their complexities, especially the deeply intense Marek, who battles the loss of his wife and the stress of war while being greatly afraid of loving again. One of the most domineering male characters I have read in months, Marek fills the pages with his alpha male tendency to want to conquer Janney while feeling the overwhelming reluctance to admit his emotional need for her. Not only is it necessary to fulfill his lust for her but also overcome her reluctance to love after living through her ex-husband’s betrayal. Janney is confused by her surroundings and unenthusiastic about falling in love. Nonetheless, her every sexual fantasy becomes a reality in the face of her surrender. These sex scenes are explosively intense, often depicting the powerful and luscious connection that they have. Their romance is profoundly inspiring, leaving me feeling warm and sorrowful throughout the novel. Ancient Ties is an absolutely gripping and satisfying read, leaving me looking forward to more novels by this tremendously talented author.”
RT – 4-1/2 Stars and Top Pick, Reviewers’ Choice Nominee for Best Erotic Romance 2006
“Marek and Janney have a sizzling attraction, and that is where Quinn turns up the heat and intensity. This story has a wonderful balance between sensitivity and sensuality, with humor from the gods on the side. A terrific book.”
Betrayed by her cheating ex, heartbroken Janney Forrester needs a vacation. She gets one — and much more — when she lands almost 2,000 years in the past. Crossing over a crumbling stone threshold, she’s greeted by the villa’s perfect historical detail and the most gorgeous, masculine man she’s ever seen, her every sexual fantasy personified. Confusion vies with attraction for control of her emotions, and Janney must reexamine everything she’s ever thought about herself.
Roman soldier Marek Benin Verus considers the woman suddenly appearing before him as a gift from the gods. Zeus knows he needs one! Battle fatigued and emotionally scarred after fifteen years in the army, he’s on a leave of absence, and he has all the time in the world to devote to seducing this beautiful woman into his bed. He doesn’t plan on the powerful and dangerous emotions she inspires in him.
Marek’s hard, muscular body is too luscious to resist. Janney decides to risk the comfort of her safe life and carpe diem – seize the day. Marek seizes her body and takes her to the edge — and over — to an ecstasy she never knew existed. Can a new world for her, timeless desire, and a loving exploration of each other’s bodies forge a passion that survives centuries of separation?
EXCERPT:
I don’t know about you, but I love Stonehenge. Standing on ground as hallowed as the grand cathedrals is so romantic as represented by one of the dictionary definitions: “marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious…” InAncient Ties, my erotic time travel, Roman soldier Marek takes Janney, his 21st Century visitor, to Stonehenge as it would have looked in his time, the 2nd Century.
Stonehenge
“You’re happy, Janney Forrester? Stonehenge pleases you?” He stalked toward her. His voice was uncertain, but his body language definitely wasn’t. She hugged the warmth of the stone, pressing back as if it could become her spine. Tendrils of heat skittered through her belly and lower, all her nerve endings tingling. Shouting, more like it. This man was a magnificent male specimen. And all that attention was focused on her. She was tired of fighting it. Of analyzing why he wanted ordinary, uninteresting her. She wasn’t in Iowa any longer.
Janney’s fascination with the massive man-made wonder turns to a stronger fascination in the massive, handsome, hunk of a Roman soldier.
She tried to meet his eyes, but her gaze insisted on sweeping over his tantalizing body. He was strong, the muscles in his long legs stretching and tightening as he moved, his powerful arms swinging easily. How could a man in a skirt be so masculine? In slow motion, he prowled toward her, the white of his tunic contrasting with his darkly tanned skin.
Oh, yeah. Dazedly, she leaned back against the sun-baked stone and waited for him to join her. He smiled, but it was anxious and uncertain. Like a parent trying to please a child. Except she wasn’t a child, and he wasn’t her parent.
He stood before her, tall for his time but only a few inches taller than she. She needed another deep breath, desperately needed it. “Marek, it’s beautiful. Thank you.”
“The sacred stones?” His chest rose and fell with ragged breathing.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know much about them. It’s thought that they’re the sacred stones of the Druid priests, but I’ve never been here when rites were performed.” He moved in closer. “I’m not thinking of religious rites now,” he said.
“No?” She laughed nervously. He’d said exactly what she’d been thinking. His body had taken over her field of vision. He’d taken over her life.
He brushed his thumbs along her jaw, eased his fingers up into her hair. “You’re so beautiful.”
Caught between the hard sarsen and his hard body, she locked her knees. He tipped her chin up with a thumb. She caught her breath, gazing up into his beautiful eyes. It was hard to resist when all his sensuality was focused directly on her.
“Your hair is the color of the sun.” His fingertips burrowed through her curls. He leaned in and kissed a rounded strand over her brow. “So soft.”
She barely breathed, eyes closing to his lulling voice. He was perfection.
“Your eyes are like the morning sky.” His mouth trailed lower, kissing her closed eyelids, the side of her nose. His breath came in short gasps.
She couldn’t stop her little whimper from escaping. She wanted to let go, ached to kiss him back. Wanted to smooth her mouth across the line of his jaw, his tender throat, feel that liquid, beating pulse against the sensitive skin of her lips.
His hand trailed down her chest to the edge of her tunic. The backs of his fingers brushed her bare skin. “So incredibly beautiful.” He slipped long fingers inside the tunic and cupped her breast in his palm.
She couldn’t hold back her cry when he squeezed her nipple. Her hips arched against the curved shape of his erection. Her own body liquefied and pulsed, her desire quick and rampant.
“By the Gods, I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone more,” he growled, compressing her nipple again and pushing her bottom back against the stone.
She gasped and bit his shoulder in answer. His words were wonderful, but, of course, he didn’t mean them. This was just sex. She licked where she’d bitten.
Oh, but it’ll be great sex.
His eyes were inches from hers, perfect understanding in their matching gazes. His lips weren’t hard or straight now; they were soft and moist. They took hers. He buried his tongue in her mouth. Growled.
~~~
Marek will always be my favorite character. I worked so hard to make him a real person, powerful but tender and vulnerable. And what can I say, Janney is me. Since then I’ve written books with a deputy sheriff, a Chicago cop, two gay Chicago cops, a few military men, a painter, a West Texas gunfighter turned preacher, vampires, and a couple of cowboys. And my heroines have been a woman escaping the big city for rural Iowa, a recent widow renting a cottage on the coast of Maine, a young jewelry designer who’s been kidnapped by bad guys while visiting the Pyramids, a reluctant mail order bride. Lots of disparate couples, but somehow they managed to find their mates.
~~~
I have several more blog posts scheduled to celebrate the re-release of Ancient Ties and to continue the conversation. Please feel free to go to any posts. There are several different topics:
Sensual fantasies were locked in my mind for years until a friend said, “Why don’t you write them down?” Why not, indeed? One spiral notebook, a pen and the unleashing of my imagination later, and here I am with more than a dozen books published. The craft of writing erotic romance has become my passion and my niche in life. I love every part of the creative process—developing characters, designing the plot, even drawing the layout of physical spaces from my stories. My careers have been varied—third grade school teacher, bookkeeper, secretary—none of which gave me a bit of inspiration. But now I’m lucky enough to write romance full time—the best job in the universe! And I’m fortunate enough to have found my own happily ever after husband.
I’m not talking Mel Gibson in Braveheart looking all adorable with his face painted blue. I’m talking about bikers – real bikers. The kind who ride motorcycles, wear leather vests, and burn up the weekend roads.
Oh, I know them, you say. I saw them on Sons of Anarchy.
Nu uh, my friend. The Sons of Anarchy are OUTLAW bikers. Those guys are the real deal, the one percenters, the fraction of motorcyclists who don’t follow civilian law. They are larger than life, badder than bad and make for great romance heroes. My biker romance standalone series, the Sinner’s Tribe MC, is about outlaw bikers who live large, ride free, and fall hard for the women they love.
So what about the weekend warriors?
Ah, now we’re talking. Welcome to my world. Weekend Warriors are Saturday and Sunday riders only. You can identify them by their squeaky clean leather chaps, shiny black leather jackets and mirrored aviator sunglasses. Without any understanding of wind resistance, they sit up straight and tall and wave to fellow bikers, because hey, it’s a nice day for a sunny ride down the highway with your significant perched on the passenger pillion seat behind you. Wave and smile. Wave and smile.
Until my hubs bought his first motorcycle, a Honda VFR with a comfy passenger pillion seat, I knew nothing about biker subculture. I saw motorcycles on the roads, watched a few shows about bikers, and feigned interest when the hubs showed me pictures of motorcycles online. I never thought I would be a Weekend Warrior’s woman until the day he showed up at our house with his “surprise” impulse purchase.
Surprise indeed. Especially given that my impulse purchases usually involve chocolate, shoes or multiple one-clicks on my Kindle on Tuesdays. Do you see the imbalance? Just think how many books I could buy for the price of…say…a MOTORCYCLE!
Of course no weekend warrior worth his salt can ride his bike wearing running shoes and a golf jacket. So it was off to the motorcycle store for the requisite purchase of shiny black leather and a helmet to protect the hubs’ head for when the credit card bill arrived.
So there I was, hanging out with a grizzled lot of bikers in the motorcycle shop as the hubs pranced and preened in front of the mirror. And then the owner, a giant bear of a man wearing a patched leather vest and sporting a long, grey ZZ-Top style beard (read: REAL biker), jerked his thumb at me as the hubs rifled through the helmet display. “You’ll need leathers, too.”
Cue: gasps from the hubs. And not because of the cost. But when I slipped on those semi-tight leather trousers and the fitted leather vest…well, let’s just say money suddenly became no object.
So now, every sunny summer weekend, we pull on our leathers, hit the road, sit up tall, and wave to our fellow bikers. Because hey, it’s a nice day for a weekend warrior ride and could there be any better way to research biker romance?
My latest release is Beyond the Cut, the second standalone book in the Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club series. It’s got all the hard riding, fierce loving, outlaw bikers you could want, plus a feisty heroine, a villainous villain and two little kids who can melt an outlaw hero’s heart.
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Sarah Castille, worked and traveled abroad before trading her briefcase and stilettos for a handful of magic beans and a home near the Canadian Rockies. She writes erotic contemporary romance and romantic suspense featuring blazingly hot alpha heroes and the women who tame them.
As a teen, Dawn ran from a life on the streets straight into the arms of Jimmy “Mad Dog” Sanchez, a biker who promised to be her knight in shining armor. But his love was just another cage. Years later, Dawn’s former life still has its hooks in her and she’ll do whatever it takes to break free. When Cade “Ryder” O’Connor, a member of a rival club, makes her an offer, Dawn finds herself in a different, hotter kind of trouble with one irresistible Sinner…
WILL HE GIVE HER THE RIDE OF HER LIFE?
Cade is an outlaw biker with allegiance to one thing and one thing only: The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club. But when it comes to the stunningly sexy, fiercely independent Dawn Delgado, Cade finds himself…hungrier for more. Trouble is on Dawn’s heels and he wants to be the answer to her prayers, whether she wants him to be or not. What can’t be denied is the red-hot attraction between them. However, as they fall deeper, the danger rises and Cade may have to sacrifice it all…
Although I have my 9th title coming out with Dreamspinner Press next month, it still blows me away that I’m a published author. Each new book is just as exciting as the first one.
One of the first things that struck me was the sense of community. It hasn’t been just Dreamspinner who have welcomed me into their family, but I’ve also had a lot of support and friendship extended by other authors, and by readers. Last year I made a New Years’ Resolution to make more of an effort to post on Facebook, and build more connections. I’d done a bit of it in the past, but updating my computer, and having Facebook now load properly has really helped with my resolution. I try to make my posts a mix of writing stuff, plus other things I’m interesting in. My other job is in a library and I’m a bit of an SF/fantasy/comics geek so it’s easy to find fun things to share. My two cats enjoy the limelight as well, especially with stories about their exploits—I have one who brings me home bones she’s stolen from neighbourhood dogs, and another who likes to steal muffins.
The other thing I’ve done is to open my blog for other authors, and become a blog tour host. I enjoy doing it, I figure it helps out other authors with promo, and it’s a way to give back to the writing community. I’ve also made some new friends along the way. This year I’ve begun doing a bit of reviewing—I love to read, and always review what I read on Goodreads, although I’ve a bit of catching up to do. I’m taking the reviewing a bit slower than the blog hosting, as I don’t want to lose writing time. I also have a few books to get through that aren’t M/M, as I like to keep my finger on the pulse for readers’ advisory for the other job.
It’s taken me a while to find a balance between being out there, making connections, family life, and writing my own books, but I feel it’s finally all coming together.
I’d love to hear about some of your experiences of community with other readers and/or writers. To celebrate my new upcoming release with Dreamspinner Press—Family and Reflection—I’m sharing an excerpt from my first release Cat’s Quill and offering an ebook from my backlist to someone who comments on this post.
Cat’s Quill
Hidden Places: Book 1
Tomas Kemp has two successful novels to his name and the true belief that a successful sequel is only a matter of a little inspiration. When Tomas meets a mysterious stranger under the branches of an old oak tree, he feels compelled to tell him about a book he holds dear and the sequel he wants to read. But Cathal doesn’t share that deep belief that the sequel Tomas seeks ends happily. Cathal has seen enough of a world where stories are real to know that happy ever after is sometimes the dream that won’t come true.
But stories have never let Tomas down, and as he follows Cathal across the reality shift between their worlds, he learns that Cathal is right: Happy ever after is never just given—but sometimes, it can be fought for and won.
Cathal wiped his palms on his trousers and then turned the page of the journal back and forth, his eyes scanning the words again. “Maybe I could help?” he suggested. “Can you tell me what the story is about so I can get more of an idea of what this kiss should, er… involve?”
“Involve?” Tomas’s voice sounded strained to his own ears. He coughed, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Umm, it’s about a writer who meets someone he thinks might be a muse.”
“I see.” Cathal nodded slowly. “Why does he think that?” He edged closer to Tomas, the book still balanced carefully on his lap.
“He’s drawn to this person he’s not long met.” The explanation sounded somewhat weak now that Tomas had to actually explain it to someone else. “It’s like they have a connection….”
“Like Alan and Roger in your other book?” Cathal frowned. “That doesn’t explain why—” He checked the name. “—Deimos might be a muse though, but then I haven’t read enough.”
Tomas opened his mouth to explain more, how Deimos seemed to appear and disappear out of thin air, how he seemed otherworldly, how Mark kept thinking about him all the time. Cathal placed one hand on Tomas’s knee, his breath warm against Tomas’s face. “Cat? What are you doing?”
“I’m getting into character.” Cathal reached over and brushed Tomas’s hair from his face. “You’re a writer, so you need to be Mark. That leaves me the role of the muse.” His voice was barely a whisper. “This scene is too good for it to be abandoned like the other one.” His eyes dropped to the page and back again. He licked his lips, his fingers tightening on Tomas’s knee. Tomas’s breath hitched.
“Yes, it is.” He swallowed again, reaching out his own hand to caress Cathal’s cheek, echoing Mark’s actions in his book. “I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered, his words following the script, his heart speeding up.
Cathal closed his eyes as he followed Tomas’s cue, slipping into a role that could have been written for him. “I think I’m in love with you,” he murmured.
Their lips brushed together, tentatively, awkwardly. Tomas pulled away, unsure, his breathing growing ragged, Cathal’s skin warm under his fingers, soft but for the slight stubble across his lower cheek, blond facial hair almost invisible. Tomas leaned in again, his lips parting this time in invitation as he pressed their mouths together. Cathal moaned softly, opening his own lips, leaning into it, his fingers threading through Tomas’s hair.
Wet skin, soft and inviting, tasting of coffee and something else Tomas could only describe as uniquely Cathal. It felt right, better than anything Tomas could have imagined. He whimpered, pulling Cathal to him, convincing himself for that moment they weren’t play acting, that this was real, that the man in his arms was someone who loved him.
The need to breathe drove them apart. Cathal’s eyes opened with a start, searching Tomas’s. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t be.” Tomas traced Cathal’s lips with his fingers, committing the scene to memory, allowing himself a photograph he realized he wanted frozen in his mind forever. “I’m not.”
Bio:
Anne Barwell lives in Wellington, New Zealand. She shares her home with two cats who are convinced that the house is run to suit them; this is an ongoing “discussion,” and to date it appears as though the cats may be winning.
In 2008 she completed her conjoint BA in English Literature and Music/Bachelor of Teaching. She has worked as a music teacher, a primary school teacher, and now works in a library. She is a member of the Upper Hutt Science Fiction Club and plays violin for Hutt Valley Orchestra.
She is an avid reader across a wide range of genres and a watcher of far too many TV series and movies, although it can be argued that there is no such thing as “too many.” These, of course, are best enjoyed with a decent cup of tea and further the continuing argument that the concept of “spare time” is really just a myth.
*~*~*~*
Anne’s books have twice received honorable mentions and twice reached the finals in the Rainbow Awards.
But before the book releases, I want to be sure you’ve read the Book #1 — Sm{B}itten! So, I made sure you have no excuses left for why you haven’t read Sm{B}itten—I entered it into Kindle Unlimited, so it’s FREE to KU subscribers, and just $0.99 for everyone else!
Jennifer Kacey is a writer, mother, and business owner living with her family in Texas. She sings in the shower, plays piano in her dreams, and has to have a different color of nail polish every week. The best advice she’s ever been given? Find the real you and never settle for anything less.
We probably all remember the old saying: To error is human—forgive divine. As human beings, it’s in our nature to make mistakes. It’s called being human. I think it’s also in our nature to try and correct our mistakes whenever possible. This is what I had to do with the second novella, KIRA, from my BDSM series, Heartache and Hopeful.
(
