UPDATE: Winners are named! You have to check the comments for the list!

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I’ll admit it. The idea felt icky. While not truly incestuous, the word “brother” attached to any hero who would be a heroine’s lover should be one of those places you should never go, right?

But then I wrote the first story. Then the second. And suddenly, I could see the allure. Someone you shared a roof with. So many opportunities to witness or be watched doing inappropriate things. Now, I have the fourth story in a series of edible little shorties ready for you to enjoy.

I thought this would be a five story series because I didn’t have any more “With xxx’s” ideas, but then I asked for your help for more, and now I can keep going indefinitely! If you still want them…

I already have a naughty cover for “With His Team” — and your suggestions that I loved: With His Ex-Wife, With His Ex-Boyfriend (LOL–I love that one!), With His Ex-Girlfriend, With His Ex-Lover, With His Pilot, With His Gardner, With His Doctor, With His Trainer, With His Bodyguard, With His Mate (I see a shapeshifter story there!)…

With His Team is next, because I already have the cover, but what are your TOP THREE FAVES from my list for the next stories? Answer for a chance to win one of the first three Stepbrother shorties I wrote (NOT WITH HIS FRIENDS). There will be three winners!

In the meantime, take a look at the new release!

When a college student joins her stepbrother at the family lake house, sparks fly when she realizes he’s invited his best friends as well…

**FREE TO KINDLE UNLIMITED SUBSCRIBERS!**

Just $0.99 for everyone else! Purchase HERE.

Excerpt from With His Friends…

I followed the sounds of masculine laughter and splashes, skirting the lake house and heading straight toward the dock. Anger fueled my steps. And hurt. Caleb knew I’d expected to spend time alone with him this weekend. This, our last chance to enjoy the cabin on the lake now that our parents were divorcing. The house where we’d spent so many summers growing up would be lost, and perhaps, so would my relationship with Caleb.

Who knew what the future held for us? We were both heading back to school in a few weeks, him to UT, me to Rice. There would be no more family reunions during the holidays, no more chances to share the same roof where our parents’ self-involvement had allowed so many opportunities for the two of us to be…well, involved.

As I approached the dock, I realized that the two young men with my brother were known to me. I’d dated both. Johnny Wills, “John Wayne” to his friends, and Bradley Tanner. How awkward. I could hardly blow hot all over my brother when both men knew only too well that, for me, anger flipped my sexy switch. Read the rest of this entry »

I read a quote by Nora Ephron that encouraged me. “Above all, be the heroine in your life. Not the victim.” I agree with that. I believe that means I should take responsibility not just for what I do to others, but for how I react to what others do to me. I can decide to become a victim and have a “poor me” attitude, or I can decide to stand up for myself. I further believe if I am to stand up for myself, I must be willing to stand up for others.

In 2004, my first book (At the Mercy of Her Pleasure) featured a half-human hero. Senth Antonello was part feline Kin, and part human — and while Senth’s human parent was caucasian Senth also had an adoptive father who was black, and gay. Luc Saint-Cyr was not a good guy, but he wasn’t all bad either. I wrote Luc to be an enigma. When I first created him, I had no idea how popular he would become. My critique group continually asked for his story while I was writing Senth’s. By the end of the book, I had one planned for him.

Someone asked me why I, as a straight white woman, would write not only a black hero but also a black gay hero. She wanted to know why I didn’t “write what you know.” I don’t think it’s an author’s duty to write only what we know. I think it’s our duty to create an imaginary world that’s realistic and unique, different from our own. I doubt I could choose a more polar opposite character from myself than Luc. Other than the fact that I consider us both “good people” he is as different from me as he can get.

He’s immortal, and he is thousands of years old. Far from being jaded like most of his kind, Luc is fascinated by humans. He seeks them out and wants to know them. He falls in love every “lifetime.”

Luc has dark chocolate skin, black hair, and eyes that he hides behind solid black lenses that cover his entire eye area. (He has a good reason for that.) In romance novels, the average hero isn’t in his sixties and paired with a twenty-something alien hero. Luc has many diverse attributes. Yet he remains my most asked-for character. A few years ago, I decided to make birthday cards that would be sent “from” each of my heroes. (Really me, of course, but it was fun to play along.) When readers signed up to get a card, they had a choice among a host of characters. About three-fourths of them chose Luc.

Could I have made Luc white, human, and straight? I don’t think so.Those who know him refer to Luc as the “Man” with a capital letter you can hear. What Luc wants, he gets. Perhaps he chose me to write about him, rather than me choosing him. I will say that as I’ve written him into multiple books, I’ve always tried to stay true to Luc’s nature rather than being true to my own. Is having a diverse hero a challenge? Insomuch as I must always be mindful that I am writing about a person who is not me — yes. But as a writer, isn’t that what we do? Who wants to read a book where all the characters are the same? Who wants to write a book like that? Not me.

Luc is a background character in the Antonello Brothers series, including At the Mercy of Her Pleasure, For Women Only, and Bro, the Story Behind the Antonello Brothers. He’s a vital character. Much of the action hinges on what Luc does. I hope when you read one of the stories, you find him as fascinating as I do.

Get a free copy of Bro by joining the Romance Lives Forever Reader Group. https://kayelleallen.com/bro You’ll get a second book the next day. You can unsubcribe any time.

At the Mercy of Her Pleasure

Antonello Brothers 1: a Scifi Romance

Hired to steal back a prototype taken by the imperial armada, Senth Antonello retrieves it, but his brother is kidnapped to force Senth to surrender the device.

Now he has to rescue his brother, outsmart the armada, and keep the item out of imperial hands. All doable, except for one small problem. He must do it in the company of NarrAy Jorlan, a genetically altered woman whose pheromones could enhance the mission or crumble it into dust with a single siren kiss.

He’s a thief. She’s a soldier. Do opposites attract? Oh, mercy!

Buy Links

Amazon https://amzn.to/1f7FQ2h
ARe https://bit.ly/bro-mercy-are
Barnes and Noble https://bit.ly/bro-mercy-bnn
CreateSpace (Print) https://bit.ly/bro-mercy-csp
Goodreads https://bit.ly/bro-mercy-good
iBooks https://bit.ly/bro-mercy-ibk
Inktera https://bit.ly/bro-mercy-ink
Kobo https://bit.ly/bro-mercy-kobo
Scribd https://bit.ly/bro-mercy-scr
Smashwords https://bit.ly/bro-mercy-smw

About the Author

Author Kayelle Allen’s unstoppable heroes and heroines include role-playing immortal gamers, futuristic covert agents, and warriors who purr.
Homeworld https://kayelleallen.com
Twitter https://twitter.com/kayelleallen
Facebook https://facebook.com/kayelleallen.author
Pinterest https://pinterest.com/kayelleallen/
G+ https://plus.google.com/+KayelleAllen/

Hi Delilah fans! Thanks for joining me today.

February is a special month for romance fans. To celebrate love, we give gifts and cook special meals, indulge in chocolate and sexy lingerie. I’m here to share a sexy little story with you, something that might start your engines running so you’re ready for your hot Valentine’s Day moments.

This story is an offshoot of Jarrod Bancroft: The Novel, which will be half price all day Valentine’s Day at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/535279.

But first—this month in my free monthly newsletter Liz’s Hot News, I outline five FREE ways to show your love to your significant other. I’d love to share my newsletter with you, and if you sign up by February 14, you’ll be in the drawing for a $20 gift certificate.

For more details on entering this drawing and other goodies, check the links at the end of this story.

Jarrod’s Valentine

Macie’s face reflected the subdued outdoor light that filtered in through the restaurant window. Ignoring the clench in his chest, Jarrod studied her from across the noisy room. She looked like a work of art, the planes and lines of her face cast in shadow, her delicate skin framed by luxurious lengths of dark hair. One of those exquisite images painted by some long-dead artist where the woman’s pensive expression signaled vague internal conflict. His impulse was to rush over to the table, take her hands, and slip to his knees to ask what he could do to brighten her day. His mouth twisted and he turned back to his newspaper.

Whatever appetites Macie Fitzgerald provoked, today the situation at Bancroft Investments demanded his full attention. The stock report only reiterated what he already knew—their standing had slipped again. Somehow rumors had leaked. It was a matter of time before this blew wide open.

He quietly folded the paper, signaled the waiter and paid his check before slipping out the side door. Much as he wanted Macie right now, the ugly responsibilities in his real life could not wait.

The door to his dad’s office was slightly ajar. His father stood at the windows in the far corner, his back turned as he stared out into the city. The older man’s shoulders triggered Jarrod’s memory, all the times those same shoulders had loomed over him, an impenetrable wall of dark against dim light. An immovable object. Jarrod swallowed an ugly taste in his mouth. And it had nothing to do with his lunch.

So the bastard already knew.

“Took your time,” the old man said. He didn’t bother to turn. “You’ve never appreciated the value of a full day’s work.”

“Fuck you, Preston,” Jarrod said. He slipped off his overcoat and dropped it on the chair. He stood beside the desk and folded his arms, facing his father’s back.

“What do you plan to do?” Preston said. “Are you riding your white horse, ready to save the world?”

“Anything to sidestep the facts,” Jarrod said. “That’s been your strategy all along. I remember my first weeks here, when I went through the files for that mutual fund and asked you, and you shifted blame to Evers. Always somebody else’s fault. Always something I made up or misinterpreted.”

“So you’re going to bring the house down around our ears, is that the plan?”

“You assigned me the dirty work thinking I wouldn’t put it together.” Jarrod spun the desk chair around and gripped the thick leather back. “I’ve dug all the way down. I’m not buying any more of your bullshit.”

Preston whirled to face him. The flesh around his nose had turned white. “Whine, you little fuck. You have no idea. I’ve worked my ass off, dedicated my life to giving you and your mother the very best. I don’t answer to you.”

Jarrod swallowed his rage, sinking his fingers into the chair upholstery to keep from planting a fist in that smug face. The man might be a despicable cheat, but he was his father. “You’ll answer to the prosecutor. Evers won’t take this sitting down.”

“Evers is as big a baby as you are. Suck it up, boy. This is how things get done.”

Jarrod closed his eyes then slammed out of the room. Nothing he could say would change Preston Bancroft. Why had it taken him twenty-eight years to accept that fact?

Odd how familiar this all felt. As if he’d seen it in a dream. As if he’d wished it a thousand times and only now realized what he wished. He strode to his office and slid open his desk drawers looking for anything that might hold value, but after a few minutes, he grabbed his overcoat and stalked out. Read the rest of this entry »

UPDATE: The winner is Armenia Fox!

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Today’s guest is missing, so I thought I’d give you a little sexy creamer to go with your coffee…

Sorry, did you just snort your coffee? Was that too crude? I’m in one of those moods today. I have to make one final pass through my latest Stepbrothers Stepping Out story—this one is “With His Friends”—before I can ship it to the formatter. The plan is to have it on Amazon this Friday! But in the meantime, I’m “suffering” (LOL!) through a sexy foursome. Yes, I know the cover makes it look as though it ought to be a fivesome, but there’s only a hint of that in the story. Here’s a sneak peek at the cover:

And while you’re waiting for Friday to roll around, I’m sharing a sexy snippet from another naughty stepbrother story. If you’d like a chance to win a copy of With His Professor, answer me this:

If you read them, what do you like about menage stories?

An excerpt from Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Professor…

When a stripper confronts a professor about her stepbrother’s grade, she’s determined to find a way to change his mind. Making the grade has never been sexier…

Outwardly, the clothing I wore was respectable. But underneath, I wore nothing except for the straps Darien had fastened around my waist and upper thighs, which held the vibrator in place.

His idea. The remote was in his pocket.

We strode down the long, dark hallway, not glancing at each other directly but from the corners of our eyes, and I knew he could see the smirk kicking up one side of my mouth.

A hum sounded, and a vibration shot through me, causing my jaw to sag and my lids to lower.

Darien clicked off the remote, clamped a hand on my ass and pushed me forward.

We’d decided to play. No plan really. But we were ready in case there was even a flicker of interest from the handsome professor. Just the thought of what was under my short skirt was enough to fuel our excitement.

His door creaked open, a student stepped out, his gaze going to Darien, to whom he gave a nod, and then I drew his attention, and I gave him a sultry smile. He halted in his tracks, and I turned my head to watch him as I passed, enjoying the fact that he continued to stare after me.

I knew I looked good. Short black skirt, flirty knee-high boots, a powder blue sweater with one large button fastened between my boobs that hugged my upper chest, and it was obvious from the pout of my nipples I wasn’t wearing a bra.

Darien knocked on the door. The sound within was muffled, but my brother pushed inside then held the door to let me precede him.

Professor Allcock’s expression tightened, his gaze going from Darien to my chest, and back to Darien. He settled deeper in his chair and regarded both of us with a wary gaze.

I took a seat.

“I’ve finished the paper,” Darien said, and bent over the professor’s desk to slide it across. From the side, the sight of his erection tenting his pants made me grin.

When I raised my gaze, I found myself caught by the professor whose eyebrows were lowered. He knew he was being hunted. But I couldn’t read him to know whether he was into this, into us, or just irritated.

“You must be warm this evening,” he said, his gaze going to my sweater.

My heart  began to pound, because I understood his unspoken command. “I am warm,” I said, and flicked open the button. The sides parted, but only revealed a bare strip down my middle.

And because, for the moment, I had his undivided attention, I leaned back and opened my legs.

Darien coughed, which sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

The professor’s frown stayed in place, but his gaze snagged on the sight I revealed.

A hum began, so loud there was no chance the man across the desk missed it. Pleasure quivered through me. I gasped, settled deeper in my chair, and parted my legs farther.

The professor cleared his throat then pulled the paper closer.

The men commenced talking about the paper while I grew warm and wet and squirmed a little on my seat. When I leaned back, I opened my sweater fully to let the cool air tease my nipples. Exposed, my desire quickly ratcheted up.

Darien reached across and pinched my inner thigh. His head turned, and he gave me a blistering glare. “Not until I say.” Then he returned to the conversation.

The professor seemed to take it all in stride, his gaze skimming the paper and asking questions, but now and then, he’d glance at my pussy.

Was he afraid I’d wet the upholstery? Did he like what he saw? The mystery fueled my desire, and I took short breaths through pursed lips to hold onto my composure.

The professor slid open a drawer. He held out a hand toward me. “You left these the other night.”

My sequined pasties lay on his palm. I picked them up, letting my fingers slide on his skin, but he drew calmly away, as though he’d just handed me a pencil.

The vibrator’s speed increased, and I bit my lip, fighting the urge to climax.

“May I?” the professor said, holding out his hand.

Darien handed him the control.

And now, any pretending they were actually talking about the merits of Darien’s paper disappeared. Both males stared as I gripped the chair’s arms and scrunched my features because I was close. So fucking close.

The vibrator stopped, and I widened my eyes. His gaze was narrowed. His cheeks flushed. He leaned to the side, and the sound of another drawer, this one lower down and sliding open, filled the small room.

When he straightened in his chair, he held a pointer, a long one he would have used to point to a screen as he lectured. He passed it to Darien then swung his gaze back to me. One brow rose—a challenge thrown down?

I pushed up and stood on wobbly legs. Then never letting my gaze stray from his, I raised my skirt to my waist and bent over his desk. He was deprived of the sight of my ass and swollen pussy, but he didn’t seem to mind. He leaned back in his chair, wearing a small, tight smile.

The first stroke of that thin wooden wand made me gasp. It felt like a switch. Stung like a bitch. Another stroke, and I cried out. The professor held out the remote, his thumb hovering over the button.

My gaze locked with his as another strike stung me, and then he hit the remote, and the vibrator quivered to life. My pussy closed around it, making a wet, slurpy sound.

His gaze dropped to his crotch.

Mine followed.

His cock strained against the fabric of his dark slacks. If he’d opened them, I’d have begged to suck him, but he merely rubbed himself slowly, as he hit the trigger again and quickened the hum.

Darien slashed me one last time, and I couldn’t stop myself, I bit my lower lip to muffle a cry as my orgasm slammed through me.

Slowly, I came back to awareness. Darien was wiping my thighs and pussy with tissues the professor handed him. What was said between the two men, I didn’t care. The professor stood, and Darien pulled me upright, fastening the button of my sweater and tugging down my skirt to cover my sex and my ass. He rubbed my bottom, and I gasped at the welts he’d left. Welts my customers would see when I danced the next night. But I didn’t care.

*~*~*

Check out more sexy stepbrothers erotic romances:

Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Partner
Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Boss

“If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.”
~Abraham Sutzkever

 At least, that’s the hope, right? When I watch Peter Pan, that sentiment is how I connect. He never grows old; never loses his sense of wonder for the world. I feel that connection to him, because everywhere I go, even if the place isn’t as wondrous as Neverland, I find something “sparkly” about it. I make something “sparkly” of my environment.

I never liked Wendy because I thought she acted like a little old lady. Sure, you’d want to come back to your mom and dad (uh, maybe, I’d really be tempted to stay in Neverland!), but did she have to be such a fussbudget? A little old woman in a little girl’s body? But you know people like that, don’t you? No matter the age, they’re old. Responsibility over spark. Vegetables before desert.

Are we a mixture of both? I think my daughter is. She’d probably say I’m too much Peter, not enough Wendy. How about you?

Are you more Peter than Wendy? Would you stay in Neverland?

Are there ways we can hold on to our inner youth? Oil of Olay is fine, but how do you keep your inner child from drying up like a prune?

Reunions.

What does that word bring to mind? Gathering for a family picnic on the Fourth of July? Losing a few pounds before you party with people you haven’t seen since high school graduation? Running into a former crush while you’re in your oldest sweats with no makeup on and standing in the line at the grocery store?

Any of the above situations can make for a great story filled with peril…or promise.

Who hasn’t heard about feuding cousins who buried the hatchet and became friends at a family reunion? Or the high-school sweethearts who found each other again—and tied the knot—after thirty years apart?

Romance novels often revolve around a reunion plot. I love that story line and include it in many of my books.

Obviously, one of the most important elements of a story, especially a romance, is getting and keeping the main characters together in a believable, uncontrived way. A reunion is a great way to accomplish that.

But this type of story is so much more than a ready plot device, a handy trope, a fallback for characters who need a quick and maybe cute intro.

One of the things I love best about a reunion story is that it brings together characters who have a past in common. Just think of the possibilities in that: two people with a history together.  Shared memories.  Unresolved conflicts.  Unforgiven and unforgivable hurts.

If that’s not good material for a relationship story, I don’t know what is!

In my opinion, a reunion plot makes for a richer, more complex story. It gives us a chance to see how two people who once walked away from each other can grow and change and improve. And best of all, it lets us see how those people who once made a mistake get a second chance.

My first published book, The Sheriff’s Son, is being reissued in new formats today. (Info on that below.) Just for fun, I’ve included before-and-after covers with this post.

The book is—you guessed it!—a reunion story. Sarah and Tanner were high-school sweethearts until the night of graduation, when he broke her heart. Here’s a clip from the beginning of the book with that all-important first meeting:

If one more straw would snap the camel’s back, as Daddy used to say, then one more debt, one more unplanned doctor visit, one more call from Kevin’s school ought to bring down a whole herd of cattle.

The thought of her son made Sarah sigh again. It was only a few weeks into the new school year, and in that short time, he’d given her more grief than in all seven years of his life combined.

At the sound of the bell over the bookstore’s front door, she smoothed the loose curls escaping from her braid and, ran a hand over the front of her dress. Halfway through the office doorway, she froze. Her mouth hung open, the greeting she’d intended to call out shriveling on her tongue, sliding back down her throat, curdling in her stomach.

Her “one more straw” had arrived.

A man stood at the front of the store, framed between a pair of ceiling-height bookcases.

Tanner Jones seemed to fill her vision, standing taller and more broad-shouldered than she ever remembered, but looking, unfortunately, all too familiar. Except for the deputy sheriff’s badge decorating his chest and the gun resting on his hip.

A frown rumpled his brow and his hand gripped the back of a bright blue T-shirt, pulling up with just enough pressure to keep the boy inside the shirt dancing on tiptoe.

A single mother’s worst nightmare. Doubled.

The son she never wanted to see in trouble.

The man she’d once loved. Once lost. And never wanted to see again.

~~

Hope you enjoyed the clip. I would love to hear your thoughts about reunion romances!

I’m giving away one reader’s choice of an autographed print copy of this book in the original version or one of my available backlist titles. (US mailing addresses only, please). To get your name in the hat, share a reunion story—one of your own or of someone you know.

Leave your comment by Friday, and a winner’s name will be posted in the comments over the weekend.

About the Author

Barbara White Daille lives with her husband in the sunny Southwest. Though they love the warm winters and the lizards in their front yard, they haven’t gotten used to the scorpions in the bathroom.

Barbara’s new series, The Hitching Post Hotel, features a matchmaking grandpa determined to see his three granddaughters wed. The series began with The Cowboy’s Little Surprise, and the latest book is The Lawman’s Christmas Proposal (just released in December). Cowboy in Crisis will debut in July 2016, with other books in the series to follow.

Her first book, The Sheriff’s Son, has been reissued (today! J ) in both larger print and a new e-book version, available exclusively from Harlequin:  https://bit.ly/TSS-LP-HB.  The original version is also still available at most major e-tailers, including Amazon: https://www.amzn.com/B00N79F94I.

Find Barbara online:

Website  https://www.barbarawhitedaille.com
Newsletter  https://www.barbarawhitedaille.com/newsletter
Twitter  https://twitter.com/BarbaraWDaille
Facebook  https://www.facebook.com/barbarawhitedaille

Can you believe the first month of 2016 is almost over? Yeah, it’s all over except the weeping. I blew my goals for January. And I’m not sure why. I felt good after December’s little health hiccup. But February presents a new challenge and a chance to catch up!

What did I accomplish in January?

1. I wrote 1/2 of one book.
2. I wrote the opening chapters of another then put it away because I hated it.
3. I revised an older title and published it.
4. I compiled a short story collection of my own and published it.

And that was freaking it.

Just so you didn’t miss those newly published titles, here’s a reminder…

January Releases

Bent on catching her cheating fiancé in the act, Frannie Valentine got sidetracked by a little thing like dying. When she awakens, Frannie learns her pampered life will never be the same, so she turns to the man responsible for her undeadness and demands he take on the responsibility of giving her a little job training—in the PI biz.

Niall Keegan never intended to make himself a mate, but Frannie’s string of minor disasters, which ended with her dying in his arms, took the decision right out of his hands. While the mating part isn’t bad, making the disaster-prone Frannie a PI may just be the death of him.

Purchase here!

* * * * *

From New York Times bestselling author, Delilah Devlin, comes her third naughty collection of bedtime stories–enough for a week’s worth of sexy inspiration!
Included in this volume are… 

Big Brass Buckle — Caught in a sudden thunderstorm on a lonely stretch of Texas highway, I pull into a dingy little diner to wait out the rain, never dreaming the cowboy of my dreams would follow me inside…

Pitch Black — Passion lights the way for an ex-marine corrections officer rescuing a female CO trapped in a prison block during a blackout…

The Pleasure in Surrender — After the lady of the keep bars her gates to the barbarian the king commands she wed, the half-Viking knight scales the walls of her heart…

One-Track Cowboy — After tracking two lost hikers, a park ranger and a local rancher lose themselves to a wild passion…

How to Train Your Skjaldmaer — A Viking jarl tricked into marrying a shieldmaiden sets out to tame his fiery bride…

Johnny Blaze — A firefighter moonlighting as a male exotic dancer gives a librarian a birthday spanking she’ll never forget…

Red Dawn — A colonist living on a lonely Martian plain receives her new mate, a man culled from among the newly transported convicts…

Purchase here! And remember, RIGHT NOW, it’s just $0.99!

What’s coming in February?

   

Contest

Answer this to win a small Amazon gift card…

What story are you most eager to see from me next? The next SEAL? Another fireman? Cowboy? Werewolf? Witch? Stepbrother?

I’ll be sending out a new newsletter later today and announcing this month’s winner of a gift from me. If you aren’t already a subscriber to my newsletter, go here: Sign up for Delilah’s Newsletter!