In Sinful Rewards, my sizzling new contemporary erotic romance serial from Avon Impulse, Bee, the heroine, receives naughty challenges from a mysterious texter. Every time she accepts one of these toe-curling challenges, she’s given a luxurious reward, a pricey item she covets yet can’t afford on her small salary.

Bee doesn’t know who this texter is. In the first story, readers meet a variety of characters (or suspects – grins). Nicolas is a handsome yet cautious billionaire with a dark secret. Hawke is a tattooed bad boy biker who might or might not be living illegally in the condo complex. Lona is an aging high class escort who knows just a little too much about Bee. Cyndi, Bee’s best friend, is crazy wealthy and she’s frustrated that Bee’s pride won’t allow her to take her help. There’s also the possibility that we haven’t yet met her texter.

In each installment of Sinful Rewards (each installment is priced at a crazy low 99 cents, less than a convenience store chocolate bar and just as yummy), Bee receives one sexy hot challenge with the possibility of one delicious reward. She doesn’t know what this reward is until AFTER she completes the challenge. This means she has to weigh the difficulty (or, in her case, the naughtiness) of the reward against what she could possibly earn.

I love this idea (and secretly Bee does also). It is the wrapped birthday gift scenario. When the gift is wrapped, it could be ANYTHING. It could be an all expense paid trip to Paris, designer shoes, a lifetime supply of Nutella, a 500 page book of puns, anything. On the flipside, if the giver doesn’t know us well, it could be something we don’t want—like yet another toaster (being a white girl married to a wonderful Asian man – rice cooker seems to be the gifted appliance of choice).

If you were given a mysteriously wrapped gift (as big or small as it needs to be), what would you imagine (or hope) would be inside?

All commenters will receive a mysterious surprise!! Please leave your email address in your comment!

Belinda “Bee” Carter is a good girl; at least, that’s what she tells herself. And a good girl deserves a nice guy—just like the gorgeous and moody billionaire Nicolas Rainer. He is everything she wants in a man.

Or so she thinks, until she takes a look through her telescope and sees a naked, tattooed man on the balcony across the courtyard. Hawke is mysterious, the bad boy she knows will bring only heartbreak. He has been watching her, and that makes him all the more enticing.

But when a mysterious and anonymous text message dares her to do something bad, she must decide if she is really the good girl she has always claimed to be, or if she’s willing to risk everything for her secret fantasy of being watched.

Is her mystery man the reclusive billionaire with a wild side or the darkly dangerous bad boy?

Buy Links: Amazon | Barnes And Noble | Google | iTunes

Bio:

Cynthia Sax lives in a world filled with magic and romance. Although her heroes may not always say, “I love you,” they will do anything for the women they adore. They live passionately. They play hard. They love the same women forever.

Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of research, while they travel the world together, meeting fascinating people and finding inspiration in exotic places such as Istanbul, Bali, and Chicago.

Author Website: https://cynthiasax.com/
Blog: https://tasteofcyn.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cynthia.sax
Twitter: @CynthiaSax
Sign Up For My Release Day Newsletter:  https://cynthiasax.com/newsletter/

Excerpt:

Voices murmur outside the condo’s door, the sound piercing my delightful daydream. I swing the telescope upward, not wanting to be caught using it. The snippets of conversation drift away.

I don’t relax. If the telescope isn’t in the same spot as it was positioned last night, Cyndi will realize I’ve been using it. She’ll tease me about being a fellow pervert, sharing the story, embellished for more dramatic effect, with her stern serious dad or, worse, with Angel, that snobby friend of hers.

I’ll die. It’ll be worse than being the butt of jokes in high school because that ridicule had been about my clothes and this will center around the part of my soul I’ve always kept hidden. It’ll also be the truth and I won’t be able to deny it. I am a pervert.

I have to return the telescope to where it was positioned. This is the only acceptable solution. I tap the metal tube.

Last night, my man-crazy roommate had been giggling over the new guy in three eleven north. The previous occupant had been a gray-haired, bowtie-wearing tax auditor, his luxurious accommodations supplied by Nicolas. The most exciting thing he ever did was drink his tea on the balcony.

According to Cyndi, the new occupant is a delicious piece of man candy, tattooed, buff, and head-to-toe lickable. He’d been completing arm curls outside and she’d enthusiastically counted his reps, oohing and aahing over his bulging biceps, calling to me to take a look.

I’d resisted that temptation, focusing on making macaroni and cheese for the two of us, the recipe snagged from the diner my mom works in. After we scarfed down dinner with Cyndi licking her plate clean, she left for the club and hasn’t returned.

Three eleven north is the mirror condo to ours. I straighten the telescope. That position looks about right but then, the imitation UGGS I bought in second year college looked about right also. The first time I wore the boots in the rain, the sheepskin fell apart, leaving me barefoot in Economics 201.

Unwilling to risk Cyndi’s friendship on about right, I gaze through the eyepiece. The view consists of rippling golden planes, almost like…

Tanned skin pulled over defined abs.

I blink. It can’t be. I take another look. A perfect pearl of perspiration clings to a puckered scar. The drop elongates more and more, stretching, snapping. It trickles downward, navigating the swells and valleys of a man’s honed torso.

No. I straighten. This is wrong. I shouldn’t watch our sexy neighbor as he stands on his balcony. If anyone catches me…

I glance behind me. There’s no one here to catch me. Cyndi won’t know I looked. The hunk in three eleven north won’t know I looked. I’m not harming anyone.

I bend over and take another peek.

The sunlight casts interesting shadows across his stomach, accentuating the ridges of muscle, the dip of his navel. I dart my tongue over my suddenly dry lips. His skin is marred with silver scars, some round, some slashes, this proof of hard living, of survival, arousing me, tightening my nipples and moistening my pussy.

I shouldn’t lust after him. He’s the wrong kind of man, the leaving kind, too virile and feral to stay in one place for long. I can tell this from his stance, from his brazen exhibitionism. He wants me to look at him, to care for him. I tilt the telescope downward. His hips are slim. More scars are etched along the bones. Fine brown hair trails from his navel to…

My mouth drops open. He’s completely naked.

The fourth of July is just around the corner. It’s that time of year in the states where picnics and swimming parties can be found everywhere. I love going to both but it occurred to me at the last cookout that I went to that the social aspect of our traditional gatherings isn’t what it used to be. People don’t sit and talk. They have their cell phones out—texting, gaming or surfing on some social media site. Now I don’t usually complain because I’ve been known to pull out my phone for a quick peek 😉 but I hadn’t seen some of the guests in years. With some help from other relatives, we instilled a thirty minute flashback—pick an activity you enjoyed as a youth. Here’s a few of the simple games that filled out a whole afternoon of fun without the cell phones!

• Catch—Yep, that’s it. Toss a ball and catch it. Pretty high-tech stuff.
• Marbles—I was shocked to learn some of the younger kids had never played it.
• Drawing with chalk—This was one of my favorites 🙂
• A nature walk—We were lucky enough to be near the woods but if you’re resourceful it can be done anywhere.
• Telling a funny or memorable story about another family member—This one really brought everyone together and surprisingly was the activity that drew the kids in. Weddings and how people met fascinated them. It touched my heart too.
• A spin on the above was ghost stories! I love hearing them.

So do you have any good ways to bring people together? I’d love to hear about it.

Also, do you want to learn about my next release, Hunter Betrayed? Read on. It’s available for pre-order!

Wild Hunt, Book 1

Tainted from birth, Harley lives a life cloaked in darkness and temptation. She resists the lure of her evil legacy by holding the memory of her ghostly savior close. Every night without him is agony. She fantasizes about him and yearns for his body, but he’s not the protector or lover she’s envisioned. He’s a Hunter bred to eliminate her kind. He’s also her only hope of salvation.

Calan, the leader of the Wild Hunt, was created to protect mankind from the Unseelie Court. For a millennium, he’s sacrificed to ensure the horrid creatures remain in the Underworld, but his strength wanes. He must rely on his enemy’s daughter to save him, but he doesn’t expect the intensity of their lust or love. Her touch calms his wild nature and ignites his carnal desires. He’ll risk all to save her, but doing so forces him to make the ultimate sacrifice, one that’ll damn him to suffer forever in his own living hell.

A Romantica® Paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Ellora’s Cave

Author Bio

Nancy Corrigan believes in unending love and epic tales with a paranormal flare. She enjoys transcending the boundaries of reality to take her readers on an erotic, emotional and romantic journey.

She resides in Pennsylvania with her husband and three children. When she’s not weaving sizzling fantasies, she works as a chemist in a pharmaceutical lab.

Social Media links:
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Youtube trailer

Kim Smith is the lucky winner!

* * * * *

I had such a good night sleep! I’m back from house-sitting for my dd. I slept in my own bed with my old familiar pillows. Pillows are so important, aren’t they? Kel has great pillows, but I couldn’t quite get them bunched under my head just the right way. I like pinching and punching them until they form a natural hollow for my head… And you don’t really want to know about my pillows, do you? When I’m in a good mood, I can’t seem to help rambling away.

In a couple of weeks, I have a brand new story releasing. The start of hot new series set in one of my favorite places on the planet—the Louisiana bayou. From the cover of this one you might be thinking, “What? Where’s the ménage?” And yeah, THIS STORY doesn’t have a ménage. But it does have Ethan. Poor little witchy-poo Bryn couldn’t have handled more than Ethan. He’s more than most women could handle. He’s a troll. And you have no idea what’s in store for you. But don’t worry. The stories that follow have many combinations of sexy happenings in the boudoir. I needed to introduce the series somewhere, and Ethan begged for his first. Trolls are lonely creatures.

Back to Once in a Blue Moon…

It releases on July 15th and it’s ready for pre-order now. Here are the links:

Samhain | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

What are you going to like about the book? I hope everything. The book starts with a little magic. Bryn, one of five sister witches hiding from their former “keepers”, is brooding over the fact their world is about to change. That progress is coming. She’s stirring something on the stove in a large black pot.

“With your blessings, come weal and bounty,

With our efforts, come fortunes plenty.”

As the story continues, you learn about her particular strengths. Magic infuses her life. And while it was painful, painful for me to write so many spells (I wanted to make them pretty for you), the effort was worth it.

What else are you going to like? The humor. The sisters aren’t really sisters, but they are closer than blood. They don’t hold back with each other. And Bryn’s sisters interfere by matchmaking, casting love spells, not knowing Ethan is a troll. The camaraderie among the sisters, their blunt honesty with each other, makes for some funny scenes.

There’s danger in the air too. A darkness that reaches their little bayou community. There’s more out there in the world other than the witches and my handsome troll. But you’ll get to meet Others very quickly inside my story. And you’ll be begging me for more stories… Or at least I hope that’s what happens, because this story was sooooooo easy to write. It flew out of me, because it’s what I love writing most—sexy, dark, funny, paranormal stories.

And here’s a little excerpt to whet your appetite for more. Let me know if it worked! Leave a comment and you’ll be entered in a drawing for a free download from among my backlist of Samhain titles.

Excerpt from Once In a Blue Moon…

“Let me do this my way.”

His way meant she would be on hands and knees. His callused palms urged her downward, arranging her knees, sinking the center of her back to tilt her bottom upward.

She didn’t mind that he treated her like a doll, that he took charge, his body blanketing her as he set the width of her hands just so. He was warm and hard and surrounding her. His cock glided on the backs of her thighs, nudged her buttocks and slid along her wet folds.

And his cock was huge. A blunt instrument. Rock solid as the rest of him.

When he was satisfied, he moved away. Her head bowed toward the floor. She hoped he’d take her. Sink his many inches inside her. However, the first flick of his tongue against her folds sent an electrical charge through her.

She must have been wound too tight. Nearly on the verge of orgasm for it to affect her so. She steeled herself against the pleasure, not wanting to disappoint him by leaving him in the dust.

He teased her with more flicks to her outer folds. Then he suckled there, drawing her inside his mouth for gentle nibbles. His whiskers raked her sex and inner thighs.

Not that she minded the abrasion. He could scour her skin off so long as he found her center. Which he did, dipping his tongue inside her and swirling. A deep groan vibrated against her sex.

When he pulled away again, she whimpered. She didn’t need foreplay, she needed the main event. But the nips he gave her fleshy ass made her jerk, escalating her sensitivity to his every touch.

Fingers parted her then swirled around her entrance. They eased her open, stretched her, one finger added at a time until she was beyond full. He spent so much time preparing her for his girth, she began to wonder if she’d underestimated just as how large he was.

The moment he prodded her with the blunt knob of his cock, she knew. He spread her folds and pressed against her, apparently gripping himself to circle her entrance and ease himself inside with precision and insistent pressure.

She’d dreamed about the way it would feel. Now pleasure was edged with worry that he wouldn’t fit. But she was wet, and more liquid seeped from inside her to coat his heavy cock. At last, he breached her entrance.

She sagged, her arms already shaking. Her body was too tight, too excited for her to slow her heart or reactions. “Ethan,” she whimpered.

The pressure relented. He held still. “Am I hurting you?” His voice sounded as though he were  grinding rocks between his teeth.

“Yes,” she hissed, but she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted the pressure and the pain. “More, please.”

His laugh was choked. He gripped the notches of her hips to hold her immobile and worked himself inside in shallow, pulsing waves, in and out, deeper and deeper—until Goddess, he was touching her womb.

She felt a pinch deep inside her. A quiver of core-deep delight. This could be the moment. If only he didn’t realize he’d taken her unprotected and pulled free at the last.

Bryn sank her chest against the cushions and reached far beneath her, past his cock, to his balls. She gripped them, massaging them, sending out a flash of witch’s heat.

“Fuck, Bryn. Don’t…” He dug his fingers hard into her fleshy hips, pulled back and then slammed forward.

She released his balls, certain he wouldn’t stop until she’d achieved her goal. She’d unleashed his passion.

His hips moved faster, his cock cramming deeply, whipping back and shoving forward again. The sheer fullness made her want to shout. Her back arched and she pushed backward, trying to break his hold, but he began to move her, bringing her back as he thrust, pushing her away as he withdrew. He hammered her. Jostled her. Roughly, so deliciously, she was on the verge of exploding.

And then he began to move his hands on her skin. He reached up one hand to grab her hair and force her back to arch more, gliding another on her skin, raising gooseflesh. Her hair was lifting and prickling on the back of her neck. Static charged the air, and her eyes widened. She knew at last why he’d been so attractive, why she’d been inexorably drawn to him. Why she’d craved this union.

Demon! she screamed inside. But it was already too late. Heat swept through her, electricity crackled. Her core convulsed, her orgasm exploding outward, weakening her limbs, stealing her mind.

She slumped against the floor as he thrust twice more and then his seed jetted inside her. His shout as he came was filled with triumph.

When at last he grew still, he released her.

She crawled forward on her hands and knees and rolled to stare up in horror as he braced his hands on his thighs and met her stare. Her heart thudded dully against her chest.

His eyes glowed green in the darkness.

Not just demon. Troll!

I have a new book out tomorrow and I’m in the midst of editing two others. So many readers and writers often ask what my writing process looks like. I like to think I treat my writing like a job. The truth is that sometimes I’m ordered and in control. At other times (most of the time) I’m in deadline hell and working impossible schedules to get the work done. Here’s a comparison between what my daily schedule should be and what it actually is.

7:00 – Rise and Shine!
7:15 – Breakfast
7:30 – Workout
8:30-12:00 – Writing
12:00-1:00 – lunch
1:00 – 5:30 – Writing
5:30-6:30 – Promo and misc

The above schedule is what it should look like. This is what it actually looks like:

7:00 – Drag myself out of bed
7:15-8:00 Breakfast
8:30-9:30 Workout with my neighbor if we don’t wimp out
9:30am -9:30pm

• Stare at the screen and wonder why I’m a writer because no words are coming out.
• Piddle at writing while checking FB or emails incessantly.
• Update my websites, make new cover art for my indie published books.
• Review audio books for content, errors, or enjoyment.
• Fill out art fact sheets for the books in production, draft proposals for future books to keep Elle James and Myla Jackson on my publishers’ schedules.
• Draft proposals for conference workshops.
• Make artwork for swag and surf for the best swag out there to take to conferences.
• Post to FB, blog, twitter. Format books for indie publishing.
• Bang head against desk when battery backup crashes and you’re forced to pull desk apart to install a new one.
• Wonder where the day went and you still haven’t written a word.
• Interruptions by family by phone or dropping into my office
• Interruptions by family by phone or dropping into my office
• Interruptions by family by phone or dropping into my office

9:30-10:15 – shower and prepare for next day
10:30 – Big Bang Theory – Sit in shell-shocked silence after a day of intense insanity

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

SECRET SERVICE RESCUE
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
Adair Legacy Book #4

The Adair legacy concludes with a shocking revelation… 

Kidnapped and held captive for weeks, Shelby O’Hara is grateful to be rescued by handsome secret service agent Daniel Henderson. But the rebellious beauty balks at his 24/7 protection until she learns the shocking secret of why she was abducted: she’s the granddaughter of the former U.S. vice president, a woman with lethal opponents in a deadly political game.

To elude those enemies, Daniel and Shelby go on the run, although they are constantly at each other’s throats…until the fighting stops with a torrid kiss. Suddenly, Shelby doesn’t feel so safe. From the bad guys, maybe, but from Daniel? He’s a clear and present danger to her heart!

Amazon | Nook | Kobo

Elle James’s Bio: Elle James spent twenty years livin’ and lovin’ in South Texas, ranching horses, cattle, goats, ostriches and emus. A former IT professional, Elle is proud to be writing full-time, penning intrigues and paranormal adventures that keep her readers on the edge of their seats. She has 39 works with Harlequin, self published works under pen name Elle James, over 40 works with other publishers including Samhain, Elloras’ Cave, Kensington and Avon and 18 works self-published under pen name Myla Jackson. Now living in northwest Arkansas, she isn’t wrangling cattle, she’s wrangling her muses, a malti-poo and yorkie. When she’s not at her computer, she’s traveling, out snow-skiing, boating, or riding her ATV, dreaming up new stories.

Social Media:
ELLE JAMES Website| Blog| Facebook| Twitter | GoodReads

A few years ago, I was lucky enough to get the job of editing an anthology of local writing.  I was living in Ireland at the time, and the town where I lived received a modest grant from the Arts Council to fund the project.  It was simultaneously one of the most enjoyable and frustrating times in my writing career.

This was local writing in the rawest sense.  People turned in memoir, short stories, poems, and excerpts from longer works.  The standard ranged from extremely good professional writers, down to the wanna-bes who churned out a story over their morning porridge.  The contributors’ ages ranged from 93 down to 7.

Then there was the politics.  There were certain people I had to include: the lady who wrote the obituaries for the local paper, the librarian’s kids, a publican from one of the 28 pubs in town who wrote a long and vitriolic rant about people chucking up their black pints on his carpet.

People submitted their work, and I chose… Well, some I chose were the best, some were written by local characters that were expected to contribute, some were badly written memoirs, but they told a valuable story of local life.  Just when I’d finally got it sorted (or so I thought), people wandered up to me in the street, or in the pub and slip a tatty piece of paper covered in illegible writing into my hand. “For the local book,” they’d say.  One lady rang me to dictate her story over the phone for me to type.

The editing part was as much tact as bluntness, as much smoke and mirrors as substance—seeing what I could change that would never be noticed.  I soon learned that, for the most part, people didn’t want or care about edits. “Ah, sure, I didn’t bother reading it back; that’s what you’re here for.”

There were a few arguments, a few noses out of joint, and a few overrides of my choices by the bigwigs in the Arts Council, all for political reasons.  But there were a few who did seem to care very much, and they were as delightful to work with, as keen and enthusiastic as any professional.

The book was a quiet success.  We sold hundreds at the launch in a local pub which was attended by half the town.  People bought the book as Christmas presents, for their granny, for all their relatives, “for posterity”.  And everyone thanked me, everyone bought me a pint of Guinness, so that I had pints to call on for weeks afterward.

It was a great experience.  It was editing, of course it was, but it was also PR, HR, politicking, child care, elder care, social work, public speaking, stenography, computer repair, IT help desk, alcoholic, and cook.

Right now, I’m in the throes of editing my second anthology.  After 14 years as an erotica writer, and a contributory to anthologies, I’ve finally bitten the bullet.  “Forbidden Fruit: stories of unwise lesbian desire” will be published by Ladylit in late August.   I can’t wait!

As for the editing experience—well it couldn’t be further removed from the local writing experience.  There are 17 wonderful stories in “Forbidden Fruit”, written by professionals and a couple of extremely talented new writers.  It’s a great experience, being trusted with another’s story, and when the story is an excellent piece of writing to start with, editing is what it should be: a fine-tune, one that maintains the author’s voice and the story they want to tell.

Look out for “Forbidden Fruit: stories of unwise lesbian desire” at the end of August  2014.  It’s going to be a cracker!

None of the contributors to “Forbidden Fruit” asked me to watch their kids while they nipped around to Maeve’s to use the printer.  That’s a good thing.  But hey… none of them have bought me a pint of Guinness either!

Cheyenne Blue’s erotica has appeared in over 90 anthologies including Best Women’s Erotica, Cowboy Lust, Best Lesbian Romance, Lesbian Lust, and Frenzy:60 Stories of Sudden Sex. She lives and writes by the beach in Queensland, Australia. Visit her website at https://www.cheyenneblue.com

This won’t be a long post. I’m house-sitting for my dd and her fam while they’re on vacation, and so only nipping in to my office to check my mail.

It’s my birthday today! Mom gave me a packet of painting brushes and a couple of water-color books—one for Irish landscapes and another for orchids. Love orchids! I’m not hard to choose gifts for. Give me things for my art or post-its and pens for my office and I’m over the moon. 🙂

I’m sure my dd is picking up little bits and pieces on her trip for me. I will love the surprises, I’m sure. No one knows my taste (or lack of) better!

Birthdays at my age can be horrendous for some. Not me. I’ve never minded the march of time. It’s just a number. Want to know mine? I’m 56 today. And for someone who played hard in her youth, and who experimented with EVERYTHING, any year past 21 is gravy. I didn’t expect to live this long. How about you? How old/young are you? Do you fret over birthdays? Did one particular number get you down? Or are you grateful for being able to continue this journey?

Thanks for letting drop in today, Delilah!

Like many authors, writing is not my only creative outlet. I’ve done scrap booking, crochet, even basket weaving (seriously – don’t knock it – it’s more relaxing than you realize). But the craft I turn to when my words aren’t coming is beading. I love playing with all the shiny, glitterly colors and shapes and turning them into things I can wear or have around the house.

While preparing to go to RomCon, I realized I needed a few more giveaways. So, I put on my jewelry designer hat and created some blingy bookmarks and purse charms. Here are the results of that effort:

At the conference, there were hundreds of great ideas and nifty author promo but I’m always curious to know what readers really like to receive. So I’m asking you, gentle reader, what do you like? And you, fellow author, what has been effective?

On July 10th I have a new book coming out with Ellora’s Cave called Loss of Control. Like several of my earlier books, Loss of Control is a contemporary workplace romance. Since I can hardly wait for my new book to be out, I’d like to give away an electronic copy of one of my backlist books – it’ll be winner’s choice of Down to Business or Risky Business.

To be included in the drawing, just leave me a comment, along with your email address, and let me know what promotional item(s) would make you check out an author’s book or website? And for you authors out there, what promotions and/or swag have you done that drew attention to your book(s)? On Tuesday, July 2^nd I’ll draw a name.

BONUS: If your name is drawn and you’ve friended me on Facebook, I’ll send you one of my blingy purse charms (pictured above) along with some Dena swag.

Jeanie’s lousy boss has sent her on yet another business trip. At least this one has a bonus—she gets to work with “Steve the Stud”, the office hottie who makes all the women weak-kneed, for the whole week. When she finds him to be smart and fun as well, she has no clue how she’ll finish the trip while staying professional.

Steve got burned the last time he dated a coworker and has vowed to never put himself in that position again, no matter how much he can’t stop thinking about Jeanie and her freckles. When Jeanie finds evidence of fraud, Steve works more closely with her than he imagined. It’ll take all his control to maintain his promise while Jeanie struggles with an ethical dilemma.

Loss of Control is a Blush® contemporary romance from Ellora’s Cave.

Buy Link on Ellora’s Cave

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