I almost forgot to post something today! I woke up early this AM with no Internet access. Gah! I live in the boonies, and sometimes, my HughesNet satellite hiccups. So, I got dressed and headed to my dd’s because I had to babysit while she had to run errands. Afterwards, it was back to my place to work on my connectivity issues, which joyfully had resolved themselves. I rarely know WHY—unless there’s dense cloud cover, but not so today. A condition which led to my next distraction—pool time! Hey, it’s 91 degrees outside. How could I resist?
Before I headed back inside, the UPS guy pulls up. He has packages! I check the mail box. I have more! Now, you see why my desktop looks like it does right now.
So, I have a confession to make. I’m addicted to subscriptions and freebies. Not the pirated kinds. The kinds where companies want to give you stuff in return for for you writing honest reviews. Kind of like authors do with their street teams when they are looking to get some reviews out on a new book.
What you see on my desk is a brown box which holds my Graze subscription box—comes with nuts and other snacky foods once a month (or more often, if you want). The black box is my Target Beauty Box—just $7 for several full-sized products, tons of samples, and a coupon. I scored this month! ELF lipstick, Olay Regenerist cream, a Pixi by Petra eyeshadow duo and more! One of the white mailer pouches is a free tool. You know when you need to change the battery in your watch and you have to take it to Walmart for them to pry off the back for you, and they never fail to scratch the shit out of it? Well, I got a free tool to do it myself. Yeah, so I have no one to blame if I scratch the shit out of it. You can’t see under the stack, but I have sample perfumes, a mascara, etc. Oh! And Poise (the adult diaper company) sent me a pretty little pouch to hold my panti-liners. TMI?
The thing I was hoping for most didn’t arrive today—my monthly Ipsy glam bag subscription. I always FB it when it comes, because hey, I can’t contain my excitement, and wow, if someone else follows my link, I get points for guess what? More free shit!
See the Influenster button in the left column of this blog (yeah, I’m so mixing guilty pleasure with biz)? That’s another guilty secret. I get freebies from them because I don’t mind posting reviews. I have a full-sized bag of Rachel Ray’s gourmet cat chow I have to review. Wait! My dd messaged me that she posted a video about the cat food for me (you have to YouTube the opening of their boxes!) Check it out! It’s short, and she does such a good job–she should be a hand model!! My kitty Pumpkin’s gonna eat good this month. Dd’s You Tube
Don’t worry. My guilty pleasure doesn’t take away from my writing time. It’s something my dd and I do last thing in the evening while we’re watching TV. She’ll see something wonderful, then I’ll have to go find it, too. We write our reviews together, because hey, we share our stuff. It’s fun.
Kind of like couponing for the 21st century. And if you love seeing a stack of crap in your mail box every day, you might want to try it, too.
So, now you know my guilty pleasure. What’s yours?
Harland County Series | Book Seven: Jesse
Release date: June 21, 2016
When Lacey Turner’s father contracted AIDs from a transfusion when she was five, her rough childhood made her strong and self-sufficient, so butting heads with the guy her brother leaves in charge of the ranch while he’s away is as inevitable as her attraction to the hot cowboy.
National Guardsman Jesse Briscoe’s word is his bond. Too bad he agrees to watch over his friend’s ranch and sister while his buddy is away. The hellcat is as spoiled and self-serving as she is beautiful. But he’d witnessed firsthand what a woman like that can do to a man when his mother decided she no longer wanted to be a wife and mother and deserted them when he was nine.
Worn down by a desire too strong to ignore, the two give in to their heated attraction, but will they give up control long enough to discover the truth behind their attitudes, or will words get in the way?
Donna Michaels is a NYT & USAT bestselling, award winning author who writes romance through the H’s-Hot, Humorous and Heartwarming. Her heroes are strong alpha cowboys and military men who are equally matched by their heroines. With over twenty books of various lengths and heat levels, she’s published through Entangled Publications, AmazonEncore, The Wild Rose Press, Whimsical Publications, Kindle Worlds, as well as having several self-published titles. Donna lives in northeastern PA with her military husband of 30 years, and a house full of her now adult children, many rescued cats, and even her parents! There’s never a dull moment, which means there’s plenty to write about!
Enjoy learning about Marianne Rice’s new book! Have a great rest of the weekend! ~DD
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WILDE FOR YOU by Marianne Rice
The Wilde Sisters, Book 3
Publisher: Limitless Publishing
Release Date: May 31, 2016
||| SYNOPSIS |||
Event planner Sage Wilde has lots of lists and no time for a relationship…Precise to a fault, Sage plans everything—meetings, meals, and sex. But when she learns her youngest sister can’t carry a child, she steps up and commits to the role of a surrogate mother. It’s not out of sentiment, because Sage doesn’t do love or touchy-feely, but out of practicality. She doesn’t plan on marrying or having children, so why not rent out her unused space, right?Luke Riley is a sexy firefighter who’s looking for love in all the wrong places…
Luke’s morning gets a little brighter when he’s called to a clinic and spots a blonde beauty wearing killer red boots. Though she doesn’t seem interested, he manages to introduce himself. It’s unusual for a woman to push away his advances, but Luke is attracted to her confident nature and strong personality. It’s not long before he wears her down, and she finally agrees to a date.
Who says you can’t mix work with pleasure?
Sage blames her growing affections for Luke on pregnancy hormones. But one last hurrah before her belly swells sounds like a well-deserved thrill. After a few passionate nights, the line between love and lust begins to blur—leaving her more confused than ever.
Luke is mesmerized by her keen wit and social charm. She may claim not to want children, but when she befriends his troubled foster sister, it proves there’s a heart inside of Sage waiting to be loved.
Will Sage’s surrogacy unlock her willingness to commit? Or will Luke stand by as the woman he loves plans a future without him?
Marianne Rice writes contemporary romances set in small New England towns. Her heroes are big and strong, yet value family and humor, while her heroines are smart, sexy, sometimes a little bit sassy, and are often battling a strong internal conflict. Together, they deal with real life issues and always, always, find everlasting love. When she’s not writing, Marianne spends her time buying shoes, eating chocolate, chauffeuring her herd of children to their varying sporting events, and when there’s time, cuddling with her husband, a drink in one hand, a romance book in the other.
I’m rushing through my morning. Despite the icky rain outside, it’s “family day” today, and we’re loading up and finding something we can do—other than sit in front of the TV—to spend time together and have some fun. I like to do recaps of the month, on my newsletter and here, just in case you missed seeing something I put out there. If it’s icky and rainy where you are, maybe you’ll want to cozy up with something written by me. 🙂
May was wonderful! Thank you, thank you for embracing my new books! Keep reading. Below, I have hints of what’s coming in June, and I can’t wait to share covers from upcoming stories. Let me know what you think of them!
Thanks again! I have the best readers! Thanks for your emails! You really do give me a lift every day. And one last reminder! Yesterday’s contest is still open. Comment here for another chance to win!
A Glance Back At May
Cain’s Law Cowboys on the Edge, Book 3
When love is on the line, a cowboy will risk everything…
Texas Lawman, Cain Whitfield, has been burned before by a beautiful brunette with dark doe eyes. He won’t be fooled again. But fate has a rotten sense of humor when he discovers the latest stranger to arrive in his small Texas town is a former mob enforcer’s girlfriend—something he learns when the cabin she rented goes up in flames and her boyfriend tries to run them both off the road. Now, he’s got to keep her alive and under wraps long enough to arrest the bastard. Resisting his attraction to the drop-dead gorgeous brunette proves impossible when they’re forced to share a safe house while the sheriff and the other deputies double patrols to keep her safe.
Even though she knows they’re all wrong for each other, Carina Black can’t help her attraction for the proud lawman. She’s done with the glitz and glamour of her former life, but can she convince Cain to look beyond her past to trust she’s ready for life in a small town? As her former boyfriend closes in, she worries too that her poor judgment could bring harm to a decent man.
The longer they’re together, the hotter their passion burns…
Rogues! Even the word conjures a special sort of hero–a playful bad boy with a heart of gold–at least when it comes to his lady love. This volume is filled with the Jack Sparrows of old–pirates sailing the high seas, Regency-era highway men, modern-day jewel thieves, like Cary Grant in To Catch a Thief–men doing bad things, bending or breaking the law, but in a very sexy way.
With fourteen stories sure to satisfy the reader who craves that ultimate bad boy, prepare to have your heart stolen!
Ex-pirate, now Governor Cantor Marlowe is drowning in femininity. Perfumes assail him morning, noon, and night. And the voices! High and trilling when calling to attract his interest. Low and throaty when whispering dark and sexy promises in his ears. Loud and strident when bringing their never-ending complaints for him to resolve.
As colonists on a new world, Cantor and his fellow pirates have entered a pact to set down roots, self-govern without Dominion interference, and raise families on an uninhabited planet at the edge of the known universe. Who would have thought the female convicts they’d liberated to make their wives would have so much to complain about in paradise? It’s no wonder he itches to be free and return to pirating.
Martha knows how to pick a lock. What the little thief can’t figure out is how to steal Cantor’s heart. When Cantor’s head is turned by the arrival of an innocent harem girl, Martha fears she’s lost her chance at love–until the young woman turns to Martha for a little lesson in love.
While Martha and her new best friend set out to seduce the stubborn pirate, Cantor discovers a dragon lurking in paradise…
When temptation flares hot, the only casualties could be their hearts.
Gage Eastwood races to the burning apartment next door and discovers a woman trying to put the fire out herself. As a professional, he can overlook the fact she’s in her underwear, except there’s a nosy neighbor snapping cell phone pictures. And soon everyone knows he rushed into action buck-ass naked.
Not many people know that shy, mild-mannered Viviana Moore is a bestselling romance author. But once the pictures of her scantily clad backside guarding the sexy firefighter’s dignity go viral, the entire city of Memphis wants to know if he’s the muse for all her heroes.
When Vivi accepts Gage’s invitation to his sex club, La Forge, she can’t bring herself to admit that while she writes about kink, she’s never done anything kinky. But soon she has more than enough material for a whole new series. And Gage is wondering if just one manly muse is enough to satisfy her…curiosity.
Next up will be another Stepbrothers Stepping Out shorty. Thanks for participating in my Stepbrother Poll! With His Pack (paranormal) and With His SEAL Team were at the top, so one of those two is coming in June!
Hopefully after that will be Utra Strokes, which will be my largest compilation of short stories to date, all written by me, and one I will release in print, too! Pretty cover, right? And if I can manage to squeeze it in, I’ll publish The Pleasure Bot, which lives in the same ‘verse as my Planet Desire series!
I’m in editing mode today. Working on someone else’s wonderful pages. When I finish, I’ll go back to wrapping up my next Uncharted SEAL story, Baby, It’s You. Love SEALs who are cowboys? Yeah, that’s what’s next. In the meantime, the excerpt below is a reminder of what came before… Enjoy!
Comment for a chance to win one of these stories!
Her Next Breath
Ex-SEAL Jackson Keller’s first mission with the Charter Group’s spec ops unit is a bust. Instead of capturing a drug lord in his Mexican compound, he finds a beautiful, naked woman. But she may have information they need to nail the narco-terrorist, so he takes her, sealing his fate. She’s his to watch, his to “manage” until the op’s done.
Suri McAnally’s made some mistakes—mainly trusting her college roomie who just so happens to be the son of one of Mexico’s most dangerous drug lords. If Jackson can save her, she’ll do whatever he says, mirror his moves, and try to keep her insta-lust under control. Her next breath depends on it.
When Suri awoke, it was to discover she was resting inside the curve of Jackson’s arm, her thigh draped over his, her head on his chest. She didn’t know who’d moved the blanket. Maybe they’d both naturally gravitated together. She hated to think she might have been the one to cross the line demarking their personal space.
Partly because she didn’t want to wake him, and partly because it was a new experience lying inside a man’s embrace, she held her breath and remained perfectly still. She breathed in his scent, which was a sagey musk combined with the remaining odor of the paint he’d worn on his face. His skin was smooth, warm, tanned and cloaked a hard, very muscular frame. Her fingertips tingled, and she very nearly gave into the temptation to run one tip over his hard abs. Instead, she curled her hand into a fist.
Last night when she’d seen him fully for the first time—without the paint, his body nearly nude—she’d felt her knees wobble. He was devastatingly handsome, not in a pretty-boy way. He was too manly, too large, all hard angles and lovely bulges, with short, nearly dark-brown hair and those cloudy gray eyes. Even the stubble on his chin made her thighs clench.
Suri hoped she didn’t sleep beside him for many more nights or she’d grow accustomed to his physique. Any man she met after this little adventure would pale in comparison.
Her glance traveled downward to the sheet barely covering his hips. Maybe it was the fold of the sheets, but the fabric was tented.
“Playing possum?”
She raised her head and met his gaze, blushing because she’d been caught staring at his sex.
“Didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You’re breathing, aren’t you?” he muttered in a graveled tone.
She frowned, not understanding, and then pushed away from his body although she instantly regretted the loss of his warmth. When she’d first awoken, she’d felt sheltered, safe—and not just from Diego and his henchmen. She’d felt…cherished.
Ridiculous, she knew. And slightly pathetic. Was she really so needy for human connection that she was romanticizing over Jackson?
But in the morning light, his face wasn’t quite so hard-bitten. Scruffy, dark bristles covered his chin and jaw; his gaze rested on her rather than spearing her.
His glance cut away, and he looked at his watch. “Chow’s nearly over. We should dress.”
“I’m starved.”
The corners of his mouth twitched.
His first smile?
And then his features grew remote again, his mouth firmed. “Get dressed. I need to check in with Teague.”
Aware his gaze followed her still, she rose and stretched her arms high, and then headed to her pillow case.
“You do that on purpose, don’t you?”
She aimed a grin over her shoulder. “Why, whatever do you mean?”
His gaze narrowed, but a one-sided smile curved.
Feeling as though she’d accomplished something noteworthy, she entered the bathroom, closing the door against the temptation that was Jackson Keller.
I closed the Which Stepbrother Story Next? poll. Here are the results. With His Pack was at the top for so long, I had my cover artiste (also known as sister/Elle James) get to work designing it. Who knew With His Seal Team would come in at the end for the steal?
Which Stepbrothers Stepping Out title interests you most?
With His SEAL Team (20%, 25 Votes)
With His Pack (paranormal) (19%, 23 Votes)
With His Wranglers (12%, 15 Votes)
With His Pride (paranormal) (11%, 14 Votes)
With His Warriors (historical) (10%, 13 Votes)
With His Biker Club (8%, 10 Votes)
With His Roommate (6%, 8 Votes)
With His Starship Crew (sci-fi) (6%, 8 Votes)
With His Mistress (6%, 8 Votes)
Total Voters: 47
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I’ll keep the order in mind as I go forth, but it really does hinge on whether my muses agree with the ranking. 🙂
In the meantime, I have work to do! I’m wrapping up my story for the next SEALs of Summer collection, working on edits for another author, and I need to step it up with promo for the Rogues authors (anybody up for a Facebook party?). Real life has been intruding on my workdays big time. It’s summer, the pool calls, medical issues with the kids require my involvement. And very soon (NEXT MONDAY), I’ll be starting up my next Rose’s Plotting Bootcamp. BTW, here’s a sneak peek at the cover for that next SEAL book…
So, that’s what’s pulling at my time for the foreseeable future. What’s pulling at yours?
Hello Delilah fans! It’s Lizzie Ashworth here, bringing you another short fiction.
We romance lovers look forward to sexy scenes and heart wrenching love stories. What we don’t like are stories of the downside. But sometimes those stories need to be told.
In this little piece, I explore the moment when a woman has to face reality about the man she loves. It’s a crisis point, perhaps familiar to many of you from similar real-life experiences. The story starts before this scene and ends long after this scene. But we can imagine all the rest just from this part.
~~~
The storm door rattled in its latch. The broken pane trembled and not for the first time Augusta thought the glass would pop out and shatter to the floor. She withdrew her hand from the handle and stepped back.
Branson hadn’t stood up. His muscled frame hovered on the wooden chair as if waiting. As if not firmly caught in the direction he’d taken. As if he might spring up any second, slam his fist into something, shove her against the wall and assault her with his mouth, his body. A tremor ran through her belly. As if.
Calmly, he twisted off the cap on the half pint and emptied the last of the whiskey into his mug. She wanted to challenge him, argue, yell, throw things, stare him down. But her angry gaze caught on the black eye patch, the eye that wasn’t there, the eye that she had never realized was the place her glance went automatically, some habit of engagement with another human when your dominant eye seeks out its counterpart in the other person. She’d never known how that worked. Now, it seemed like the only damn thing that happened consistently with Branson.
Forcing her gaze to focus on his other eye, his only eye, she met his calculating, sardonic gray stare, his expression of contempt, or challenge, or whatever the hell it was that he felt.
“Go on,” he said quietly. “Get the fuck out.”
She stifled the words that sprang to her lips and turned again to the door. The cracks radiating out from the fist-sized hole blurred with the yellow residue of tape that had long since fallen away, victim of hot, cold, wind, rain. She remembered when the last of it peeled away and hung by a thin edge, curled and brittle. Once it fell, he had allowed it to lie on the threshold for weeks.
“You need to fix this glass.” She regretted her words the minute they left her lips.
Why didn’t she just leave? What was it about him that reached into her chest and held her like a fist? She had shed all the tears, tried everything. Except leaving. Maybe that’s what it would take.
“Why?” he questioned, his voice dry and expressionless. “Everything else around here is falling apart.”
He said it like he would comment on the weather to a stranger. On invitation of his words, Augusta looked around the familiar place, the tiny living room where a layer of dust coated the window sill, coffee table, the top of the television. A blanket on the couch where he spent most of his days. And nights. The floors needed cleaning. Prescription bottles, empty crumpled cigarette packs, an Elvis zippo worn to bare metal where the neck should have been, and dirty dishes littered the little table where he sat.
Spring wind hit the glass again, another sharp rattle as the door latch heaved in and out against its little catch. What would happen if she threw it open, let it bang against the outside wall, let the glass fly into glittering shards to cascade over the wet sidewalk and ground? She shook her head slightly. She knew what would happen. The glass would stay where it fell. He’d walk over it like he walked over everything that used to mean something in his life.
Cautiously, she brought her gaze back to his face, his chiseled handsome face with its gritty beard shadow and the scar by his temple and the angry gray eye, watching. His big hands turned the mug in short increments like the minute hand on a clock.
“Okay, damn you.” Her throat choked on the words. But she was right. Her gut told her. She had to leave. She had tried everything else.
She grabbed the door handle, popped the latch, and stepped outside. The wind caught her hair and whirled it into the air. Cold pellets of rain splattered her cheek. She turned briefly to force the fragile storm door closed, surprised to see him standing there like a ghost on the other side of the glass.
A fresh flurry of rain dashed against her face and she hurried toward her car. If she looked one second longer, she would lose any hope of leaving. The car ignition sent its gentle ding-ding into the noise of rain and wind. A crashing sound shattered across the yard, and she knew what she would see before she cast her gaze toward him. He stood there in the open doorway, his arms crossed, his gray stare burning across the distance until she could almost see the bloodshot rim, the slightly puffy lid. The storm door lay flat against the outside wall with one last large section of glass hanging at a forty-five degree angle and the rest of it in a thousand pieces on the ground and concrete walk.
She wanted to cry out, beat his chest with her fists. Tears burned her eyes as she slid into her car seat and closed the door. Methodically, she turned the key in the ignition. With great effort, she did not look at the doorway as she backed down the drive and slowly pulled away.
~~~
I live in the wilds of the Ozark Mountains with my cats, hound dogs, and whichever child has taken up temporary residence between grad school and relocation. I’ve been writing my entire life and can’t express how wonderful it is to share stories with readers like you. Everything I write comes from my heart in the hopes that you’ll find a bit of pleasure within its pages. Thank you for your kind words and appreciation! You make it all worthwhile.
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The storm door rattled in its latch. The broken pane trembled and not for the first time Augusta thought the glass would pop out and shatter to the floor. She withdrew her hand from the handle and stepped back.
