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Archive for 'erotic romance'



Joe, Logan, and a little bit of real life…
Saturday, January 13th, 2018

Hey there! For those of you who’ve been gobbling up the Texas Cowboys stories, you won’t have to wait long to read Slow Rider, which features my two Texas cops, Joe and Logan. I had originally put SR up for pre-order with a late February release date, but you’ll get it read it much sooner. I decided to push it up because a couple of projects I had hoped to have ready in the next few weeks aren’t rocking along as fast as they should be.

There’s one really good reason. And it’s a real-life thing, but since I always try to be real here, I’ll tell you all about it.

Last year around Thanksgiving, my 98-year-old grandmother, who lives with us, began failing. You may recall that in late 2016 she broke her back. She went through rehab and recovered her mobility. This time, she’s just running out of juice. She’s entitled. She’d tell you that, too. From walking very unsteadily, she’s now completely bedridden. She did a three-day stint in the hospital where they evaluated her for hospice, but funnily enough, they found her to be too healthy for hospice. You have to have a terminal diagnosis to get in-home care. You’d think her age would be enough to cover that requirement, but no.

So, we did look at alternatives. They offered rehab. Six weeks worth, where they’d try to get her back on her feet. She didn’t see the point and didn’t want to leave home. She’d rather die here. So, a nursing home was out of the question, too. Instead, my aunt, my lovely dd, and I have broken up every 24-hours into shifts where we stay with grandma, feeding her, keeping her clean and comfortable, and yes, changing bed pans and adult diapers. Truly, it’s not as horrible as it sounds. And we love her, so this is what our family does. Because we can. We are well enough ourselves, my aunt is retired, I work from home, and my dd trades off childcare with her husband and me. Yes, I have added shifts of babysitting when she’s with grandma and the baby-daddy isn’t around to look after her.

We’re not sure how long this will last. We’ve already been at if for a while, which is why my productivity has gone to shit.

But I’m adjusting. Next month, I hope to have the following ready to go:

 

02/06/18 – DAGGER, Montana Bounty Hunters series (Indie)
02/16/18 – NIGHT WATCH, Texas Cowboys series, reissue (Indie)
02/27/18 – PIRATES, A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology (Indie)
02/28/18 – REAPER’S RIDE, Montana Bounty Hunters series (Indie)

In the meantime, I’ve moved up Slow Rider to January 23rd!

Slow Rider

When Joe Chavez and a fellow sheriff’s deputy pull over a speeding motorcycle in the middle of the night, neither is particularly shocked to find Paraiso’s wild child, Sarah Michelson, riding bare-assed naked, nor are they surprised when she invites them to join her in a sexy threesome. Talking her way out of an embarrassing date with the county judge, who just happens to be her daddy, Sarah promises the officers the ride of their lives. Having the men turn the tables on her and introduce her to some scary D/s play, she learns some things about herself she never suspected. Too bad Joe will never see her as anything but a sexy hell cat in need of taming…

Pre-Order your copy now!

BOUND & DETERMINED is here!
Tuesday, January 9th, 2018

Love cowboys? How about handcuffs wielded by a woman set on seducing one? Well, you should enjoy this one! You’ve met Tara and Cody (him, under unflattering circumstances in Wearing His Brand). Cody gets his comeuppance and his redemption. Hope you love it! ~DD

Bound & Determined


When Tara Toomey hosts the annual cowboy auction in her bar, she’s in the mood to serve bad boy Cody Westhofen more than a drink when she raises her bidding paddle. She’s done with his freewheeling ways. It’s time for the sexy cowboy to man up or get the hell out of her life. What better way to capture his attention and show him she’s serious than to kidnap him for a wanton weekend?

Tied to Tara’s bed, Cody is more than willing to cooperate. Until he found himself cuffed to her bed, he didn’t know how desperate she was to show him how much she cares.

It’s going to be a long, hot weekend…

Get your copy here!

Coming Next Month!

F*R*E*E READS Continue!
Friday, December 22nd, 2017

 

Over at my other website, Delilah’s Collections, the FREE READS keep on coming!
These offers won’t last! Get your copies today!

Just in time for the holiday break! Arctic Dragon is here!
Thursday, December 21st, 2017

Here’s something to fill those hours of the holiday when you need an escape from the hustle and bustle and need to claim a little “me-time”! This story is loosely based on a Russian fairytale about a snow maiden who didn’t get a very happy ending. I had to change that. :)

Escaping her destiny for a day in the human world, a snow maiden, is rescued after her horse bolts, and then is brought to an isolated cabin by a recluse—a handsome, gifted artist, living alone in an arctic wilderness…

Headstrong, and seeking a little respite from a suitor’s relentless wooing, Queen Larikke rides the arctic wind far beyond the bounds of Northland, only to have her horse bolt at a shot from a hunter’s gun. Her rescuer is a handsome, mysterious man who lives alone in the wilderness, his cabin filled with erotic images of women. Rather than fearing her fate, Larikke sets out to seduce him, hoping for one last fling before she settles down to do her duty and wed.

Thinking he was saving a life, Drake dragged a very strange woman home, stripped her, and warmed her by his fire. Now, he finds his long, self-imposed isolation may have made her allure impossible to resist, and Drake fears he’ll harm her if he shares his special kiss.

Get your copy here!

Read an excerpt…

A blanket of fresh powder muffled his footsteps. For a moment, the bitter-cold wind died down. The stillness invited him deeper into the clearing, but something in the air alerted him; an intuition that was part of his true nature told him to wait.

Wind had blown snow against large tree trunks, forming deep banks where the tall green sentinels stood close together. Everywhere, pure pristine white dusted the tops of branches, cloaking them in rich, thick wonder. Precious sunlight peeked from behind a dark gray cloud and refracted like a billion tiny prisms on frozen crystals that gilded the uppermost layer of the snow.

His breaths seemed loud, intrusive, and he concentrated on being quiet so that he didn’t disturb—not that anyone was would hear him this deep in the wilderness.

Rather, all was hushed, expectant. Quiet, like he preferred now. Content at last with his own company.

The first few months of his isolation had been the worst. The silence had nearly driven him nuts. Now, he barely noticed. Sounds other than voices, the hum of electricity, or the roar of a passing engine were replaced with softer, more predictable ones—the rustle of pine needles as a breeze swept through outstretched branches, the resonant creaking when snow weighed the branches down.

The rustle of animals as they scratched in the snow for food.

The voices inside his head had also faded—the strident ones that had called him a freak and the startled screams—well, they couldn’t reach him here.

If he missed the company of a woman—so be it. Other parts of his existence flourished in the solitude. Almost filling the aching void. The decision he’d made had been the right one. He’d spend the rest of his life—however long—alone.

Do no harm.

He lived by that rule now. At least, in regard to people.

For now, he had a stew pot to fill, and he’d tracked a lone deer through the forest to this spot. A soft snort sounded, and he found the doe digging with her hooves to uncover whatever she could still forage beneath the fresh snow.

Drake tugged off his mittens and raised his rifle, setting the stock snug against his shoulder. He had the doe in his sights and slowly pulled back on the trigger, when an unexpected tinkling sound, like bells carried on the wind, drew his attention. His gaze strayed for only moment. As his attention returned to his quarry, a sudden icy wind swept up snow, obscuring his view.

The shadow of the deer still in his scope, he pulled the trigger, jerking the barrel upward at the last moment when he realized he wasn’t looking at a doe at all—but a woman on a bay-colored horse.

What the hell?

The shot went wild, but the horse gave a high-pitched whinny and reared, dumping the woman to the ground before bolting.

Drake threw down his rifle, swearing silently as he clomped on unwieldy snowshoes toward the figure lying like a spill of red paint against a white canvas. Her fur-lined scarlet cloak fanned around her slender body. He knelt in its folds to reach for the woman who had yet to open her eyes.

He ran his hands over her body, checking for broken limbs, cursing himself for a horn dog for noting generous curves beneath her dark gold and blue gown. But it had been a long time since soft curves had yielded beneath his palms. Not much in the way of padded layers of clothing protected her from his inspection, just the soft fabric. What in hell was she doing wearing some princess costume in the wilderness in winter, even one made of heavy velvet?

Finally, she stirred, moaning softly.

He sat back on his haunches, noticing at last the luster of her mink brown hair and brows and the thick lashes that fanned the rims of her delicate eyelids. They fluttered then lifted, revealing gold-flecked brown eyes.

Struck by her beauty, he stared. Her eyes were wide-set and large; her nose elegant and straight. The shape of her face was slightly triangular with a small chin that took no attention away from the sweet curves of her soft, plump mouth. She was perfect. His hands itched to mold her shapes again.

“Who are you?” she asked, with a voice as light and sweet as the bells he thought he’d heard before.

He shook his head to clear away his lustful thoughts. “The idiot who nearly shot you,” he said, his own voice thick and rusty from disuse. He cleared his throat. “Can you move? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, I think.”

“What the hell were you doing out here?”

She gave him a distracted frown. “Riding.” Then rising on her elbows, she glanced around her, blinking. “My horse, Windancer…”

“He bolted when I fired.”

Her confused stare returned to him. “He’s gone?” Her eyes widened until the white surrounded the brown iris. “We must find him.”

No “I must find him”. She’d included him, without even wondering if it was wise.

Snow had begun to fall again—thick, fat flakes that swirled in the rising wind, a blast of arctic chill. Knowing it was the wrong thing to do, but seeing no other choice, he said, “I’ll look for him after the snowfall ends. We need to get you inside.”

Oh, hell. He’d have to take her to his place. Something he’d sworn he’d never do. She might not be any safer there. He’d lived alone too long. With her lush beauty, she was too much of a temptation.

Her mouth opened, but then closed, her lips forming a thin line. “I have to find my horse. I can’t stay here,” she said, casting a wild glance around them.

He frowned. “In a few minutes, we won’t see more than a few feet in front of us. A storm’s coming in.”

“You don’t understand—”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. Although, it was the last thing he should do, he held out his hand. “Come. We’ll talk later. After I get you out of the cold.”

* * *

Larikke stared in dismay. She couldn’t go home with him. They’d be alone. Her, alone with a human? Unthinkable! Humans were so short-lived and violent. Think of the scandal it would cause!

“We’ll both freeze if we don’t get out of this weather,” he said slowly, as though speaking to a child—one not so very bright.

Only she knew she wouldn’t. Freeze, that is. This is what she got for her stubborn bid for freedom. Stranded in a wild land—with a man. Her mage would no doubt cluck like a hen when she recounted the tale of how she’d ridden the wind and landed on her backside in a snow bank before a human as handsome as any damnable frost faerie.

She’d only wanted to put Thure firmly in his place. Remind him who was in charge of her destiny—that she had a will of her own.

And maybe to inspire him to anger so that he might let go of the firm hold he kept over himself whenever they were together. She wanted to see the powerful male beneath his princely trappings.

Rather like the prime specimen before her.

Oh, why couldn’t this human have been as hairy as a polar bear? Or as ugly as a walrus? Oh no! His eyes were a crystalline blue. His hair was silvery blond and fell well past his broad shoulders.

Clean-shaven, his jaw was sharp-edged and strong. His brows, although drawn together in a fierce frown, were full and nicely shaped but hooded piercing eyes. Despite the layers of clothing he wore, she could tell his frame was tall and thickly muscled.

The few humans she’d met long ago, thickheaded and thick-bodied warriors stopping on their journey to Valhalla, didn’t compare. A crude, ungifted species, they’d never aroused much interest. But this one, with his rumbling voice and burly frame, nearly stole her breath away.

Perhaps she was simply addled by her spill. Or maybe she was just feeling the familiar, deepening need for something different from her proscribed future—something wicked and deplorably wrong. She cleared her throat. “I must insist we find my horse.”

He rolled his eyes and tugged her to her feet. Then before she could brush away the snow clinging to her mantle and give him the set down he deserved for daring to handle her so familiarly, he bent and swept her over his shoulder.

Larikke’s mouth gaped. Now, this was a view of the world she’d never seen.

Jennifer Kacey: Movies! (Huge Giveaway)
Friday, December 15th, 2017

UPDATE: The winner is Debbie Watson!

* * * * *

I’m all about the movies this holiday season.

Still have to see Bad Mom’s Christmas and Justice League.

Can’t wait to see Downsizing AND I’M DYING TO SEE THE NEW JUMANJI!!!

A set of movies I just bought to watch over the holidays is Tomb Raider with Angelina Jolie. Haven’t seen them in forever, but not too long ago I wrote a story about it! “Her Heart’s Tomb” was featured in the Rogues anthology put together by the ever lovely Delilah Devlin! Here’s the AWESOME cover designed by Elle James! And a little tease from “Her Heart’s Tomb”.

Rogues
When an international tomb raider finds herself trapped with the enemy, she unearths her most precious discovery in the only man she’s ever loved.

The tomb raider, Sonya, needed nothing but the pack on her back and the next treasure drawing her forward. She certainly didn’t need a man to help her. Absolutely not the one man she ever cared about. Jack.

Jack couldn’t let his heart get involved with any woman. Especially not a raider after the same jobs as him. He certainly couldn’t let his guard down around the one woman he wanted more than his next prize. Sonya.

Falling for each other was the last thing either of them wanted, until they’re trapped in a tomb together with no place to go but into each other’s arms.

Amazon – http://goo.gl/iUXaiZ
B&N – http://goo.gl/g0GR6J
Kobo – http://goo.gl/jV8QAu
Smashwords – http://goo.gl/LTaoHR
Are Café – http://goo.gl/hrIXSS
Ibooks – http://goo.gl/v8fJQc
Website – http://www.jenniferkacey.com/books/her-heart-s-tomb.html

GIVEAWAY

In honor of the above sexiness I’m having a giveaway for one lucky commenter!!


**GIVEAWAY – US ONLY** – Just look at all the awesomeness you could win!! Including a full print copy of the Rogues Anthology! So tell me a movie you can’t WAIT to see right now!!

I’ll pick a winner on Monday the 18th!! Good Luck!! PS –It’s always great to leave your email address in your comment so I can contact you! Hate not being able to give winners their goodies!!

Decadently Yours,
Jennifer Kacey

About Jennifer

Jennifer Kacey is a writer, mother, and business owner living with her miniman 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.

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Wolf Moon Rising is out!
Tuesday, December 12th, 2017

Popping in just to say—Woot! WMR is out! I’m on to the next project before I can circle back and think about what happens next in the series. I kinda know now, but I’m letting it stew. There will be fairies!

I hope you love this story! One reader has already said: “It is full of surprises. Very sweet, very sexy and very mysterious.”

Wolf Moon Rising

In Jefferson Parish, deep in the bayou, is a place called Bonne Nuit. Off the beaten path, isolated by swamp and connected to the sea, there the Beaux Rêve Coven thrives.

Five witches…Too many demons to count…

Aoife is the flightiest of the sister witches, and she has a secret, one her mother warned her to keep close to her heart. Her father was a fairy—which explains her quirkiness and her affinity for flowers. She lives in a cabin on stilts that juts into the bayou, and one of her demon guardians is a werewolf. She’s attracted, but how would he feel if he married her, fathered a child, and that child disappeared into the land of the fae? Desperate to find a solution to her dilemma, she flees her guardian’s protection. Her last hope is to enlist her father’s help. Plead her case. Her happiness, and that of her one true love, Sigurd, depends on whether she can escape this fairy curse.

Get your copy here!

Enjoy an excerpt…

For Sigurd, acting as guardian to the witch, Aoife, was both a blessing and curse. A blessing, because he’d never known anyone as innocent and pure, and a woman who truly didn’t know her own allure. A curse, because he had to guard her against his own lustful nature.

And again, he was thankful two other demons were assigned the protection detail, because more than anything, he wanted her kept safe. However, he was equally annoyed at having two competitors for her affection.

Of course, many more among the demons living around Bonne Nuit aspired to hear the “echo” of their bonding with a witch. Such a bonding brought power to the lucky demon—and demons were greedy about that sort of thing. They frequented Aoife’s small cabin poised on long stilts above the bayou on the flimsiest of excuses. One needed a fragrant oil to help him sleep. Another needed a healing balm to soothe a bruise. And they were constantly underfoot in her garden and her workshop, interfering more than helping—at least, to his mind.

However, Aoife appeared blissfully unaware of the males’ attempts at garnering her exclusive attention. Her radiant smile flashed indiscriminately upon her pursuers, never mind their unsuitability as possible mates. And despite the fact they’d done nothing to earn the right to call her wife.

Unlike Sigurd, who suffered her proximity and who stood ready to serve her in any way she pleased. Who quietly stood guard over her while she slept, losing his sleep and his pride because she slumbered so soundly, completely unaware of his constant state of arousal.

Sigurd wasn’t naturally a patient man, but he had withstood the torture of being close day in and out for seven months. He was nearing his breaking point. If something didn’t happen soon, he would press their leader, Ethan, to ask his pretty wife for help. Bryn liked him well enough, always turning to give him a wink when “family” dinners took place, and one of Aoife’s admirers fought for the privilege of sitting at her side. Sigurd preferred to sit across from her at the table anyway—the better to glower at his competition. And perhaps raise a lip in a menacing snarl.

Bryn seemed to be in his corner. Perhaps she would be eager to see her sister witch settled. If something didn’t change soon, he’d speak with her.

On this evening, Sigurd wore his wolfskin and lay curled on the wooden floor beside Aoife’s bed. Just before she’d begun softly snoring, she’d reached down and scratched behind his ears. Probably not an act she was even aware of doing. She was kind to all creatures and seemed especially fond of his wolf form, sometimes taking a brush to his fur or giving him a bath in the large metal tub on the porch. He lived for those moments.

He shook his head in disgust. What a sorry excuse for a wolf he was. Wolves weren’t pets. They were pack animals who needed to belong to a family and a mate. A male needed to dominate his bitch, but he didn’t think Aoife would ever agree to be his bitch.

However, the thought did stretch his wolf’s mouth into a feral grin. He laid his head atop his paws and settled with a disgruntled whine.

Minutes passed, and he was nearly drifting off to sleep when the bed creaked and feet softly lowered to the floor. He perked his ears and pushed up to peer over the mattress, just in time to see Aoife slip through her bedroom door.

He followed, freezing when her steps paused, ducking behind corners when she glanced around. Something was afoot, and his hackles rose when she reached for her cloak and a small bag from the hook beside the front door.

Was she meeting a lover? Or were the witches gathering in secret? Somehow, he doubted the latter because Bryn was very pregnant and couldn’t slide gracefully from Ethan’s bed. And Miren would have to escape three mates, and that could never happen. Which reminded him, where the hell were the other two guards?

When Aoife opened the door and crept outside, closing it behind her, he drew up short. He hadn’t considered how he would exit the house, so he quickly shook free of his wolfskin and strode onto the porch. His glance went to the steps at the side of the porch, but then a sound, a soft splash, pulled his gaze to the canal flowing past her porch. She’d taken a boat. The fact she was already on the water meant she’d been in a hurry.

What the fuck?

Footsteps sounded from inside the house. A door creaked open then slammed shut. So much for stealth. Hamdir, also a wolf, walked to his side, scratching his chest. “Where’s the witch? I was sleeping on the couch. Thought you were watching her.”

“I was.” I watched her escape. “Go back to bed. I have this handled.”

“Sure about that?” Hamdir yawned. “Don’t know how you aren’t dead on your feet. You really ought to let us have turns inside her bedroom.” His large hand patted Sigurd’s shoulder. “Driving to New Orleans in the mornin’, or I’d join you on this hunt,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

His gaze followed Hamdir as he stepped back inside. Their group had grown complacent since Ethan defeated the council’s champion in battle and no retribution had been settled upon their unbanded group. Most presumed the mere presence of so many demons, concentrated in their small town, was deterrent enough to rogue demons seeking to steal a witch for a mate.

Sigurd was reminded he’d have to enlist another guard from among the bachelor demons during Hamdir’s absence.

A cool wind wafted against his skin, raising chill bumps. Early Winter in the bayou was mild, but he couldn’t easily follow Aoife on foot.

Instead, Sigurd shifted again and fell to his paws. With a single quick yelp, he leapt past the stairs to the bank. Lifting his nose to the breeze, he followed Aoife’s delicious witch’s scent through the murky, shadowed bayou. If he startled a gator, the bastard better move out of his way.

Elle James: Boots & Twisters
Thursday, December 7th, 2017

If you love my naughty Lone Star Lovers series, you’ll love my sister’s Ugly Stick Saloon stories! Check this out! ~DD


Amazon | Nook | Kobo | GooglePlay
BOOTS & TWISTERS
UGLY STICK SALOON BOOK #11

Lucky Albright’s unlucky streak is so long and wide that she’s been run out of one town and it looks like it may happen again.
When she finds herself out of money and out of gas in Temptation, Texas, a part time job from the kind owner of the Ugly Stick Saloon gives her a glimmer of hope that this time things will be different. Landing a fulltime job at a local ranch may just be her new beginning.

Trent Jameson and Isaac Moore have always believed you make your own luck, but a black cloud of disaster seems to hover over their new hand. Under a tumbling stack of hay, Isaac discovers what Lucky’s hiding beneath baggy clothes and a tough exterior. Enough sexy curves to satisfy both men’s appetites.

But it isn’t long before Lucky’s history starts wreaking havoc all over town. It’ll take a force of nature to help the ranchers convince the law, the Garden Club—even Lucky herself—that now is no time to hit the road.