Vonna Harper isn’t the real me. I created her to hide behind.

Vonna is a sexually liberated writer of many erotica and erotic titles who gives her imagination free rein while the real me writes much tamer stuff. For a long time I tried to keep the two separate, but today it doesn’t matter. Vonna’s creator needs to come out of the shadows and share something deeply personal about coronavirus’s impact on our family.

I suspect everyone who reads this has been touched by the pandemic in some way. Here’s my story. A little over a year ago the adult son I live with was diagnosed with stage three colon cancer. We (yes, both of us) have been through a year plus of hell highlighted by chemo, radiation, heart damage, two infections, three trips to the ER, countless blood tests, and countless sleepless nights.

He was scheduled to have the tumor cut out on March 26. We live over four hours away from the big city cancer center where the surgery would take place. He and his brother, my other son, insisted that Mom not subject her ancient immune system to what we acknowledge is a greater risk of catching the virus. My other son, an educator (what he’s going through is a story of its own), insisted on going with his brother and staying for the approximately five days he’d be hospitalized. I stayed home with the dogs and my thoughts.

The morning of the trip (the day before the surgery) my sons had just gotten on the road when the surgeon called to inform us that the operation was still a go and she was fighting to keep it on the schedule.

Four hours later as they exited the freeway, a second call came. Surgery had been canceled. No rescheduling until the hospital is no longer full of coronavirus patients and dedicated medical professionals.

My sons came home. We wait.

As almost an aside, I promise my erotica is a different experience from what you just read. For proof, I offer a couple of recent titles that include spanking scenes.  His Purchase and His Filly take place in The Society which is made up of Elites and Others. In other words, dominants and submissives.

Alia is an Other, a woman with secrets and few rights in a dark world controlled by The Society.

Kade is an Elite, a wealthy, powerful man who knows how to get the ultimate performance from Alia. Whatever it takes, he will bring his sexy, strong-headed acquisition into line.

When she defies him, Kade repeatedly applies his large hand to her bare bottom until it burns and she’s reduced to tears. Until she can’t fight her erotic reaction.

The next time she defies him, she refuses to explain why. He commands her to strip naked and submit to another harsh spanking. As if that isn’t enough, she has no choice but to let him place a butt plug inside her.

Alia wants to hate Kade for doing these shameful things to her, but his firm handling arouses her in ways she can’t deny or resist.

It will take all her resolve not to admit her deepest secret to this man who owns her.

Get your copy here!

Kali has no choice but to work for Boden, a wealthy, powerful Elite. As a vulnerable Other in a dark world of control and controlled, Kali knows her submissive position within the Society. But her vow to do everything she can to protect his valuable racehorses puts her on a collision course with the man who in essence owns her.

Boden decides to discipline the lovely, headstrong young woman via a hard bare bottom spanking. To her shock, she’s deeply aroused. She can’t hide her erotic response which he uses to his advantage.

The lessons continue to take place. Boden doesn’t hesitate to order her to pull down her pants and expose her vulnerable, naked ass. She shudders with every blow then moans when his all-knowing hands slide between her legs. She can’t stop him, can only submit.

Surrender.
Experience.
Want.

Wonder if anything will be left of her.

Get your copy here!

Yes, it’s Tuesday. And like I said before…er, sometime or other…it’s hard to remember what day of the week it is when you’re on lockdown. So, it’s my pleasure to remind you and to offer you some light entertainment while you’re slowly going out of your mind…

Okay, none of that is happening here. It’s been a bit of an adjustment, and we’re having to cook way too many meals. What is it with kids? They think every meal should be an event! Any other time, they’d be happy with PBJ or ramen. Ha! Okay, again, none of that crazy sh*t is goin’ on here. 🙂

(Do you sense that I’m ready for a spa day?)

Ah well, next best thing to a day of self-care is a FREE story, right? Something short to tide you over. You can tell the kids or your SO you won’t be long. Just a few pages more… And you’d be telling them the truth! In addition to the free story, I have an inspirational puzzle. Something of a morning pick-me-up. *wink-wink*

Enjoy both! And you’re welcome! ~DD

P.S. Tell me how you’re coping! No crazy sh*t going on there, right?

FREE Read — Lily’s Last Stand

A wife gives her husband a sexy surprise…and then he ups the ante…
Get your copy here!
*~*~*~*

The Puzzle

Ready to go off the grid? I’m not sure why I’ve been so fascinated with it, but after a fan asked for a sequel to Follow Me, I couldn’t resist roughing it once again.

At the moment, it also happens to be a hot topic. With schools, restaurants, and bars closing from the pandemic, we are being forced to live a simpler life — at least for a while. It makes us appreciate what we usually take for granted, and some of us may end up realizing the simpler life can be better.

While Follow Me hung out in the West Virginia mountains and rivers, Find Me’s setting is a Louisiana swamp. Hot, sticky, and oh so sexy… Sheltering-in can be a thrill instead of a prison sentence if you’re locked away with the hero of your dreams. Away from outside distractions and conveniences, you can immerse yourself completely in the other person’s body, heart, and soul.

Find Me by Afton Locke

contemporary romance
Release Date: 28 March 2020

Preorder it now on Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B085YFB3BV

Can a civil rights attorney and a southern rocker find love at a Confederate statue rally?

Weary of climbing the corporate ladder to care for her aging hippie parents, Dee Dobson marches in a rally. When violence erupts, Rodney Walker, lead singer of Breeze, comes to her rescue. Their dramatic picture hits the papers, but an interracial relationship is out of the question for both their careers.

Between a long-distance concert tour, her endless overtime, and his racist brother, Jack, they struggle to build a future from their powerful connection. When a senator pursues Dee and helps her run for political office, things get even more complicated.

But their biggest obstacle is Jack. As a southern gentleman, Rodney values family above all else. Due to a long-buried secret, he always gives his brother the benefit of the doubt, a decision that could cost him and Dee everything.

Playlist:
Free Bird by Lynrd Skynrd
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QxIWDmmqZzY

You by Nicole Bus
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jwfurbP2is

Excerpt from Find Me

Copyright © Afton Locke, 2020

He grabbed an enormous green towel and washcloth from the metal rack and set them on the vanity. “Here you go. Soap and shampoo are inside the stall. Do you need anything else?”

Their gazes caught and held…too long.

When he grabbed the belt buckle of his jeans, her gaze dropped to his hand and didn’t let go.

“I need a shower, too,” he said hoarsely. “And, well, there’s no flag in here.”

“I expected you to have one as a shower curtain,” she joked.

But she caught his drift. Running water would mask any sounds they made in case the evil brother woke up. Without taking her eyes off Rodney’s waist, she stooped to remove her sneakers. She straightened and padded toward him in slow motion. The thick rug massaged her feet, which only fed the desire rising inside her like a high tide.

Her hands got a mind of their own as they fastened around the big, round buckle and tugged it open. He jerked his zipper down and pulled off his tank top. Her nipples tightened so hard they ached. Ever since he’d rescued her at the rally, she’d wanted him. No, before that. She’d wanted him the first time she’d heard him sing.

She ran her palms over the warm, solid planes of his chest, but he grabbed one of her hands and pulled it down. Lord, the man had a thick package. The bulge she’d always seen in his pants didn’t disappoint.

His eager erection was the best thing she’d ever felt, too. When she rubbed the length of him, a moan escaped him and he slumped against the vanity. Before she could do it a second time, he growled and peeled off her clothes.

“Don’t move,” he said as he reclined against the vanity, watching her.

His gaze felt as heavy as a caress. In response, goosebumps popped up all over her flesh. Without another word, he walked her toward the shower and turned on the water. In moments, the glass-doored stall filled with steam.

Hot water pulsed over their bodies. Rodney’s hair looked even sexier wet. Long sheets of it framed his muscled flesh, which turned rosy in the hot water. His jutting organ reddened, too.

He sat on one of the built-in seats and pulled her back-first onto his lap as he had in the boat. His cock, slick and hard, rubbed against her buttocks. When would she feel it inside her? To fill her aching need? If he decided to act like a southern gentleman now, she’d scream.

With his arms around her, he leaned toward the nearby soap dispenser, built into the shower wall, and squirted a dollop of pearly fluid into his palm. It reminded her of cum, which made her cleft burn even more. With exquisite gentleness, he rubbed it over her arms, releasing its herbal scent. Going back for more and more to cleanse her legs, back, and belly.

When he lavished extra care on the scar from her stab wound, it made her recall the rally. She’d been terrified of dying until he’d carried her to safety.
I must be dreaming! Never let this shower end, even if my skin turns into a wrinkled prune.

When would he wash the parts she needed most? As if reading her mind, he palmed her breasts. Through the soapy bubbles, the warm friction of his hands against her swollen nipples sent her into the stratosphere.

Then he shut off the faucet, dropped to her feet, and nudged open her thighs.

Oh, no he isn’t…

Coming Soon

Look Into My Eyes – in case you missed the Crossroads boxed set

Where readers can find me:
Newsletter: http://www.aftonlocke.com/mailing-list.html
Web site: http://www.aftonlocke.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AftonLockeAuthor
Twitter: http://twitter.com/aftonlocke
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/Afton_Locke
YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/user/aftonlocke
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/aftonlocke/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/aftonlocke/

Last summer, the owner of the first publishing house I joined, Liquid Silver Publishing, died. I hated hearing the news because she was a wonderful person to work with. With Liquid Silver, I’d sold, gosh, maybe twelve books and several novellas/short stories in anthologies. It was a good company to work for because they were fair, honest, and they paid on time. With her death came the problem of what to do with the books they still had on the docket. I recently received rights back for all of them. I also received rights back for the one non-erotic book I’ve written, Burning Bridges, written as Anne Krist. What to do, what to do…

I’ve only recently explored the adventure of self-publishing. It’s exciting and scary all at once. Exciting, because I am more in control of my own fate—responsible for quality and timeliness and marketing. Scary, because I am more in control of my own fate—responsible for quality and timeliness and marketing. It seems everything is a double-edged sword. What if I take charge of my own destiny (fun) and screw everything up (scary)?

With Burning Bridges, the book of my heart, I was happy to take the risk because I love the book so much. Reading through to edit and make necessary changes was actually a pleasure. Hubby designed a new cover that I (surprisingly, because I loved the first cover) like better than the first. Uploading the book went off without a hitch. So far, so good.

But when it came to marketing, I was kind of stuck. Do I market the book as new or revised? Should I even mention that it was out before? Anyone looking at the website—or even Amazon, since they can’t/won’t tell their marketplace vendors to remove images and offerings of older versions—will recognize the difference in cover art. And the book already has reviews. Do I use the old reviews in marketing the updated book? None of these questions had I considered before jumping into republishing. (To answer, I decided to use the old reviews in marketing, I noted that the book is republished on the copyright page of the book but don’t make a big deal of it in ads, and I use only the new graphic in messages and marketing.)

Since Burning Bridges, I’ve republished two other books, both written as Dee, and both paranormal: Passionate Destiny and Your Desire. They also have new covers (I think hubby outdid himself!) and have been updated slightly with re-reading/editing. I have about seven or eight more to go if I am to match the books I had on Liquid Silver’s site. It’s a daunting task! As I am repubbing, I’m putting books on Kindle Unlimited. If you are member of KU, I hope you will check them out.

So, is republishing books a PITA or fun? It’s a mix. If I had gone to one of my other publishers—assuming one of them would have accepted the books—it would have been so much easier. They would have taken care of cover art and editing, and I would have had help in marketing. But so far, I kind of like the idea of taking the reins of control for my work. I have found formatting for paperback is a bit of a pain but nothing that can’t be dealt with. The fun comes from reading my own work again. I don’t usually read a book of mine once it’s published. After reading Burning Bridges, Passionate Destiny and Your Desire, I kinda sit and say, “Did I really write that? It’s pretty darn good.” That’s the most fun part! I hope folks will take notice of my marketing and agree!

Burning Bridges: mybook.to/BurningBridges
Letters delivered decades late send shock waves through Sara Richards’s world. Nothing is the same, especially her memories of Paul, a man to whom she’d given her heart years before. Now, sharing her secrets and mending her mistakes of the past means putting her life back together while crossing burning bridges. It will be the hardest thing Sara’s ever done.

Passionate Destiny: https://tinyurl.com/sxy5sfh
When Margaret Amis-Hollings inherits an old house in Virginia, she never suspects she’d be sharing it with a very loving ghost. Or that her interest would be divided between her spirit lover and the very live man who’s renovating the place. Suddenly her life is intertwined with a soldier from a previous century and with his descendant, Aaron, who has a secret concerning her home. Is it coincidence or the power of a past love that makes Aaron want to share her life, as well as her destiny?

Your Desire: https://tinyurl.com/whkqtjf
Your Desire. A mysterious shop appears in town for one reason: to bring the spice of passion and the thrill of love to one special person. Magic is in more than the item purchased—it’s in the heart of the buyer, often hidden, usually surprising. And after enchantment takes hold? The store fades from sight and memory, only to reappear somewhere else. Maybe in your town….
 
 
 

About Dee S. Knight

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

UPDATE: The winners are…Delaine McLafferty and Mary McCoy!
*~*~*

I’m pleased to see that the number of subscribers to my blog is growing! You’re discovering that there’s always something happening here! Whether it’s seeing what other authors are giving you in the way of new stories or playing puzzles or entering to win prizes—there is always something new. Thanks for stopping by and being a part of this romance writer’s community! If you haven’t already subscribed, check out the left-hand column of this page and do it now! ~DD

Flashback: Slow Rider (Contest–2 Winners!)

When Joe Chavez and fellow sheriff’s deputy, Logan Ross, 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…

Read an excerpt here!

Contest

Comment on this post to win your choice of one of the books in the Texas Cowboys series! This series is a very sexy set of stories set in a small town in Texas, where cowboys and lawmen are “bound & determined” to win their ladies any way they can!

Here are all the stories in the Texas Cowboy series!

Click on the covers to learn more!

I am not a fan of Valentine’s Day. I think it forces people to proclaim their affection for others in rather commercial and materialistic ways. I find it ridiculous that we measure someone’s love by how widely they open their wallet on a single day.

Consider these numbers:

• This year, Americans are expected to spend $19.6 billion on Valentine’s Day.
• In 2018, the average consumer spent $143.56 on Valentine’s Day gifts. (Only $5.50 was spent on pets.)
• Approximately 144 million cards will be exchanged on that day.

That’s a pretty large investment in love, but I want to know I am loved 365 days a year.

So it may seem strange that my latest book, The White House Wedding, is considered a Valentine’s Day romance. However, my book focuses more on the intangibles of love, rather than on a holiday that celebrates love.

For me, all the chocolates, flowers, and jewels in the world won’t compensate for a tender kiss, a gentle hug, a whispered, “I love you.” A man who listens, who comforts, who supports, and who encourages is worth far more than truffles and champagne. He is priceless.

I don’t ask for and I don’t expect baubles and treats on Valentine’s Day. In fact, I don’t even want them. They have no real value. A man who feeds my soul, fills my heart, and stimulates my mind is all I need. You can’t buy love—though some may disagree. Love thrives on intangibles. It’s the million little things that wrap your life and your heart in a blanket of kindness, affection, contentedness, and peace.

I have been in love. I have thought I shared true love. I believed my love was everlasting. Only to have my heart shattered into a million pieces, the illusions held in the mirror of my soul obliterated. The anguish that followed was intense. The despair and denial. The utter hopelessness. Then the anger and the urge for revenge. And, finally the acceptance, the acknowledgment that it was time to move on. I can honestly say gifts or the lack thereof have never played a role in the failure of my relationships. The lack of intangibles did.

Because love isn’t a dozen roses on Valentine’s Day. Love just is.

An Interview with Seelie Kay

Q. Why do you write romance?

Because I am fascinated by the games people play to find and secure a lasting relationship, which is not always love. There’s the chase, the courtship, the falling, the surrender. That’s what I try to capture in my stories.

Q. Do you prefer a certain type of romantic hero?

I adore smart, dashing gentlemen who aren’t afraid to live on the edge. They can be a bad boy, a billionaire, a prince, or a secret agent. That hint of danger just hooks me! However, I also love strong, independent women who aren’t afraid to fight for what they want, even love.

Q. Why did you write The White House Wedding?

It was a bit of a romp, really. I wanted to play off all the craziness that is politics and Washington, D.C. The creatures in the great swamp have become so predictable, a story about the political implications and hijinks of a White House wedding just flowed from my pen. Plus, I always found it interesting that a country that intentionally broke away from the monarchy, goes crazy over royal weddings. Admittedly, I am one of them. I won’t get up at 4 a.m. to watch, like so many of my friends, but I will tape a royal wedding and watch it later. And yes, I did seek teacups from Diana’s nuptials. Unfortunately, none were to be found. At least stateside. I imagine once she dumped Prince Charles, their value went up dramatically! Unfortunately, White House weddings are rare and although we go crazy over royal weddings, I doubt things would proceed so smoothly here. Every aspect of the wedding would be dissected and criticized by the media and political opponents, making the wedding itself a pretty negative experience, which is probably so few occur here.

Q. The characters in this book also appeared in The President’s Daughter?

Yes. The President’s Daughter is where the bride’s—Sarah Lee Pearson—story first began. She had been kidnapped at age five and raised by her nanny into her teen years. It was only after the people who raised her were killed in a paper mill explosion that she began to search for other relatives. A chance meeting with a presidential candidate, Jamisen Powell, leads her search in a new direction and she discovers that he is, in fact, her birth father. This is the continuation of that new relationship.

Q. I imagine in this day and age, being the president’s daughter would not be an altogether positive experience.

(Laughs.) As I observe the impact of the Trump presidency on his children, I am exceptionally happy I was never put in that position. It must be a horrible experience. We live in such negative times, a time when people seem to place high value on their ability to shred reputations and destroy people. All of the current chaos puts us one step away from anarchy. In fact, if you think about it, it would be a perfect time for the Monarchy to attempt to reclaim the colonies. We are so busy fighting each other, I question whether we would band together to fight an outside threat. That’s just sad.

Q. How does your former profession as a lawyer impact your writing?

In two ways. First, my knowledge of the legal system permits me to predict the outcome of certain events. Those events have played a key role in some of my stories. Second, my friends say I am obsessed with justice and I guess that’s true. After 30 years, the law and the legal world are so firmly embedded in my brain that I can’t flush them out. That has become the lens through which I view the world and that naturally guides my characters and plots. Injustice infuriates me, but it also leads me to great stories!

The White House Wedding

When politics interferes with love, can love survive?

Getting married isn’t easy when your father’s the President of the United States! After reluctantly agreeing to a White House wedding, Sarah Lee Pearson, the president’s daughter, finds herself swept into a political maelstrom of unimagined proportions.

The White House staff and the first lady see the wedding as a political event, a way to sweep the president into his next term. Congress is complaining about the collateral costs. The media is delightfully rehashing every aspect of Sarah’s life, even those events that have nothing to do with the impending marriage. And the American public? Visions of an American royal wedding have swept them into a frenzy and vendors take advantage, making a quick buck off of everything from limited edition t-shirts to commemorative teacups.

Sarah and her fiancé, Sam, fight hard to ignore the craziness, but after learning a bounty has been put on their heads by an anti-government militia group, they have to decide whether a White House wedding is indeed worth it. And given all the hurtful controversy, perhaps a better solution is to not get married at all.

Excerpt from The White House Wedding…

“How does my father feel about this?” Sarah asked.

“Your father wants you to do what makes you happy.”

Jamisen Powell entered his Chief of Staff’s office and nodded coldly at Jeremiah. He added, “He would never ask you to do otherwise.”

Sarah smiled and rose to kiss her father on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad. I knew you wouldn’t ask me to be a political stool pigeon.”

Jamie Powell chuckled. “No. That job apparently falls to staff.” He smiled at Sarah. “Look, hopefully, you only get married once. Make a memory that will mean the most to you and Sam. Nothing else matters.” He shook his head, “Maybe Jeremiah will get lucky and your sister, Melissa, will hook some poor sucker before the next election. She and her mother would be overjoyed planning a White House wedding.”

Jeremiah scowled. “I am only thinking about your re-election, Mr. President. Your first term has been a bit rocky. You need a solidifying factor, something that will grab the hearts and minds of the American public and provide a clear path into the next term. Your story, a daughter lost and found after twenty-five years, especially a daughter who just happens to be a stellar human being and a successful international law attorney, won their hearts in the first election.

“Walking that same daughter down the aisle, something you had never dreamed was possible? The ratings alone will rival a royal wedding. No offense, but Melissa’s marriage—if it ever happens—could never have the same impact. People don’t view her in the same light as Sarah. Melissa is a flighty socialite. Her deep-seated sense of entitlement offends. The ratings for her wedding would be nonexistent. But Sarah? She’s the golden child. The American public loves her.”

The president’s sapphire blue eyes, which mirrored Sarah’s, flashed with annoyance. “Be that as it may, I am not about to force either of my daughters into something they don’t want. Sarah has declined your request, and as far as I am concerned, that’s the end of it. You will have to find another solidifying factor, Jer. Surely I have done something that’s re-election worthy!”

Buy links:
Publisher: https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2796-2-the-white-house-wedding/
Amazon: TBD
Barnes and Noble: TBD
Kobo: TBD

About Seelie Kay

Seelie Kay is a nom de plume for an award-winning writer, editor, and author with more than 30 years of experience in law, journalism, marketing, and public relations. When Seelie writes about love and lust in the legal world, something kinky is bound to happen! In possession of a wicked pen and an overly inquisitive mind, Ms. Kay is the author of multiple works of fiction, including the Kinky Briefs series, the Feisty Lawyers series, The Garage Dweller, A Touchdown to Remember, The President’s Wife, and The President’s Daughter.

When not spinning her kinky tales, Ms. Kay ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other professionals. She resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where she shares a home with her son and enjoys opera, gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine.

Ms. Kay is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS: Never give up. You define MS, it does not define you!

Author links:
Website: https://www.seeliekay.com
Blog: https://www.seeliekay.blogspot.com
Twitter: @SeelieKay https://twitter.com/SeelieKay
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/seelie.kay.77
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Seelie-Kay/e/B074RDRWNZ/

Prior Books:
http://www.extasybooks.com/kinky-briefs/
http://www.extasybooks.com/kinky-briefs-too/
http://www.extasybooks.com/kinky-briefs-thrice/
http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-1734-5-kinky-briefs-quatro/
http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2023-9-kinky-briefs-cinque/
http://www.extasybooks.com/the-garage-dweller/
http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-1504-4-a-touchdown-to-remember/
http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-1795-6-the-presidents-wife/
http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2263-9-snatching-diana/
http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2032-1-the-presidents-daughter
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2291-2-infamy/
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2349-0-seizing-hope/
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2538-8-cult/
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2658-3-hope/

UPDATE: The winners are… Delaine McLafferty, Misty Dawn Cecil, and Elaine Swinney!
*~*~*

Besides my series, I have written some very sexy standalone stories, too! I forget about them because I’m so busy trying to keep up with series, but I shouldn’t. In fact, I should go back and look at my workplan, because I deserve to write something completely fun and one-off!

If you haven’t read the books below, now’s your time to peruse, and I’m including an excerpt from one of them so you can sample some of the fun. Several of them are menage stories, so if that’s your thing, be sure to check them out!

Contest

For a chance to win your choice of one of the books below,
tell me your weekend plans!

Click on any cover to learn more about the story!

Excerpt from Handy Men…

The impulse came like a flash of lightning—hot and searing—all the way to the bone. An idea born of a need she hadn’t felt in a long, long time…and inspired by one red-hot handyman in butt-hugging jeans and a snug T-shirt.

The man fired the militant gleam in her eyes as she brushed bronzing powder across her cheeks and swiped carmine “eat me” red lip stain across her mouth.

She didn’t give herself time to rethink the decision, reaching for the phone before her usual, cautious self reasserted control. No more couch potato cry-ins for her. No more self-imposed exclusion while she figured out what to do with the rest of her life. Today, a new Pamela Dwyer was reaching for the goddamn gusto.

The anger felt good. Especially after the shock she’d received moments ago when she’d surfed the internet for the latest gossip about her ex.

One glance at Andrew’s Facebook page, and Pamela’s confusion over what the hell had happened to her life dried up. He’d blocked her from his page, but his profile picture had been changed from Andrew’s handsome, craggy face to the soft innocence of his newborn son’s.

The picture said it all. And no doubt every one of their friends here in Austin, who’d rallied around her when he’d left, would now pour out their congratulations to him, while privately agreeing he’d done the only thing he could do to be happy.

Tears had stung her eyes, but she’d refused to let them fall. Instead, she’d blinked them away, closed out the screen and glanced through the blinds at her immaculate lawn. The perfect lawn and landscaping to surround the perfectly appointed house she’d won in the divorce settlement.

But back to that lightning strike…

Across the street, a man had stood atop a ladder while he fished leaves from old Mr. Johnson’s gutters. It wasn’t the fact the old man had spent money to hire someone to do odd jobs around his place that caught her attention, although that was plenty unusual all by itself. It was the way the sunlight glinted on the younger man’s hair. Glints of gold she could see from over thirty feet away. And once her attention was snagged by that halo-like glow, her gaze couldn’t help but trail down the long, lean, buff lines of his healthy frame.

From the back, the man was perfection. Then he’d turned to the side, no doubt to say something to Mr. Johnson who hovered at the bottom of the ladder. The old skinflint would supervise the handyman to make sure he got every nickel’s worth of his money. However, not a hint of irritation showed in the handyman’s expression. His smile had been quick—a flash of white teeth against a tanned face.

Pamela had breathed deeply, enjoying the surge of heat flowing through her veins. So much better than the cold, hollow feeling in her womb. Arousal had bloomed, fresh and unexpected, washing over her, lapping away the disappointment. Leaving her…expectant. Feeling younger than her thirty-eight years.
There were times in a woman’s life when she had to grab the bull by the horns or she’d never taste passion again. Pamela decided then and there that her time was now.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell chimed.

Christ, do I really have the guts? She’d had twenty minutes to get icy cold feet.

She held her hand in front of her face and blew against her palm then sniffed. Mouthwash still works.

Before opening her door, Pamela bent over, shook her head then straightened, giving her straight blonde hair an extra fluff. She pasted on a smile—not too wide or eager—one she’d practiced in front of the bathroom mirror to make sure it reflected just the right amount of casual interest. She didn’t want to scare him away. At least not before she had a chance to practice being a femme fatale.

However, after opening the door, her smile faltered just a bit. Up close, the repairman was more of a rangy lion than a bull, and even more attractive than her secretive glances through the blinds had revealed. Thickly muscled arms and a broad chest stretching a green Handy Men tee filled her vision.

Maybe she should have targeted someone more in her league—and at least fifteen years older. However, when she’d seen him working on the rain gutters of her neighbor’s house and watched the way he moved gracefully up and down the ladder, a plan had begun to form. One she was too invested in to back out of now.

“Your neighbor said you were havin’ trouble with a garbage disposal?”

Good Lord, his voice was deep and sinful. Her greedy glance shot up to meet his, and she noted the crinkles of amusement at the sides of his eyes. Blue eyes with golden coronas around the pupils. Yum.

Realizing her mouth hung open, she snapped her jaw closed. “Uh, yes. Trouble with the disposal. That’s why you’re here.”

It was the truth, so she didn’t stutter over it. However, she didn’t mention she’d thrown a handful of screws into the sink to make sure the old disposal seized. Her plan to lure him into her house was working like a charm. She wished her ex could see her now. Plain Pam, reliable Pam, boring, defective Pam had a few tricks left.

“I’m Jeff McCaffrey,” he said, and held out his hand.

Blowing out a little breath to release her tension, she gave him her hand and shook. “Pamela,” she said quickly.

His palms were callused and large. She slid her hand slowly from his, enjoying the scrape. Even if things didn’t work out, she’d have plenty of sensory details to savor later to go along with the lovely picture he made.

“Um…” He lifted the toolbox with a flex of impressive biceps and raised his eyebrows.

It took a second to register that he needed her to move away from the door. Feeling flustered, she stood back and waved him inside. She closed the door behind him and followed eagerly on his heels into the hallway.

He halted abruptly.

Unable to stop her forward momentum, Pamela held out her hands to brace herself—and cupped his ass.

His head swiveled to glance back at her, a slight, dazed smile curving his mouth.

She paused a second too long before removing them, but it was his own damn fault. His ass was too much temptation for her to resist a little squeeze. “Sorry about that,” she muttered, palms and face burning. Lord, she was thirty-eight, and he had her blushing like a teenager. Her flirting skills were woefully rusty.

He cleared his throat and pointed toward the door on the left. “The kitchen?”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding a little winded, but her fingers tingled and her skin felt on fire. She hadn’t wanted to come on to the younger man like a cougar in heat, but he was fine-fine-fine.

He swung open the door and walked to the counter, where he set his toolbox beside the sink. “What sort of noises was it makin’?”

“Crunchy?”

“Crunchy?” His lips twitched.

She shrugged. He was the “Mr. Fix-It”. He’d figure out soon enough what the problem was. Maybe he’d think the screws in the disposal had gotten there by accident.

He reached beneath the cabinet next to the sink and flipped the switch.

Metallic grating made her wince. The poor thing ground worse than her ex’s teeth.

Without looking back, he said, “Don’t touch the switch. I don’t have my tongs, so I’m gonna stick my hand down there to see what’s happenin’.”

In his hand went, and he turned slightly to the side, his gaze meeting hers while a frown drew his honey-brown brows together. When he pulled free, he held a screw. “Wonder how that happened?” he drawled.

She grinned brightly. “Serendipity?”

“Wha—?”

So maybe not a brain surgeon, or even much of a reader, but the calculated stare he returned told her he wasn’t stupid. He pulled out another and laid it on the countertop, and then another. “Somethin’ you wanna tell me, Pamela?”