I was one of those lucky children whose mother did not enforce gender specific activities. My brother and I, treated as equals, each participated in the same activities (with the exception of ballet, which my brother felt no interest in pursuing). I came home with skinned knees, ripped clothing (my poor mother, good thing she knew how to sew; a skill I never learned), and coated in dirt. While most girls my age were playing with dolls, I was building forts. However, I got to do the most interesting things; fencing, archery, rock climbing. I learned that I was capable of anything I put my mind to, that gender was not a hinderance. This independent spirit has followed me through life.

I was given a choice, a pinnacle moment in my life, when I decided to remain that way, instead of conforming to expectation. As a freshman in college, I lamented to my father that I was single (which really shouldn’t be the focus of a college freshman, but let’s be honest with each other). He gave me some fatherly advice. If you are interested in getting a boyfriend, you will need to learn to be less independent.

My jaw dropped. Learn to be less; less intelligent, less passionate, less of me.

I wrestled with that suggestion for a while. Could I be less of me?

In A Perfect Plan, I pose that question to my heroine, a tomboy who is struggling to fit into society. One of my favorite scenes is at one of those tedious society functions. Samantha is debating how to escape the party in which she finds herself trapped. What I love about her is that she doesn’t consider whether or not the activity is safe, but whether or not she could make it over the balcony railing before she is caught.

“May I ask you one question?” Lord Westwood gazed at her with a peculiar expression.

“Certainly,” answered Sam, tearing her eyes away from Wilhelmina’s glee.

“What were you concentrating on with such intensity when I threatened to tell the story of our first meeting?”

Sam glanced down, a red tinge crawling up the back of her neck, indicating the balcony with a slight jerk of her head. “Whether or not I could make it over the railing before Wilhelmina realized I was missing.”

“What did you intend to do once you climbed over the balcony?” asked Lord Westwood.

“I was planning to shimmy down the column, using the ivy as a rope.” Sam lifted her head, a tiny smile pulling at her lips. “She would never catch me once I reached the drive.”

Lord Westwood struggled to keep his face neutral. “Do you think about escaping ballrooms often?”

“More often than I would care to admit.”

“I suppose, as a gentleman, I would have to attempt to prevent you from injuring yourself even if that caused a public scene.” Lord Westwood clasped his hands behind his back, casting his eyes upward with a dramatic sigh. 

“Dragged away from the balcony in full view of society by Lord Westwood—that would definitely be one more mark against me,” murmured Sam.

A PERFECT PLAN is available on all platforms and on sale this week
for 99 cents.

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author Alyssa Drake has been creating stories since she could hold a crayon, preferring to construct her own bedtime tales instead of reading the titles in her bookshelves. A multi-genre author, Alyssa currently writes Historical romance, Paranormal romance, Contemporary romance, and Cozy mystery. She thoroughly enjoys strong heroines and often laughs aloud when imagining conversations between her characters.

Website: http://alyssadrakenovels.com
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I’m often asked, if someone wrote a song about you what would the title be?

My answer is that someone actually did, a few years ago.

“The Outsiders” by Eric Church.

Now, anyone who knows me knows how much I love the guy’s music. He uses words in a way that maximize the emotional impact of a song. His music, even the rowdiest, is always simple in lyrics, and honest. He never names a feeling, but wow, how those exact feelings are shown and wielded like a blade. Okay, my books ride along 60,000 words while a song has between one hundred and three hundred, but I wish I had his talent to show them.

His latest record, Desperate Man, is on repeat on my record player. I put it there when I bought the vinyl, and it still has to leave.

That being said, his song “The Outsiders” is for me. Only for me.

Mostly because I understand. Mr. Church is tad angrier than me, but it still works perfectly (I do am prone to anger, anyway).

I’ve always been an outsider, and I’m saying this with no rebellious attitude. Even less, looking for understanding or whatever else. It’s just what it is. Who I am, and I always lived the definition comfortably.

One way or another I’ve lived a loved life since day 1, I’m a happy, ‘solved’ person. My own person–which makes me an outsider.

I would go horse riding after school, and to pay for my horse’s full livery I shoveled a whole lot of horses’ manure. Okay, I loved doing it, and I would have done it even if I was rich enough to pay for that. I did so deliberately and not to spite the established cool kids’ gang, those going clubbing during the weekend and throwing parties. The cool kids were actually nice and always invited me–and I politely declined. It was simply what I wanted to go riding and shoveling, and didn’t care about what the others did. Nobody ever bugged me, by the way.

I went into law school because I love the idea, the nature, and the spirit of the law (that’s why I always say I’m no lawyer, I’m a scholar of law). And there, I found myself in a less-than-10%-female environment. Remember, we’re talking Italy 20 years ago. Even now, we’re not up there with Sweden and Iceland when it comes to women’s equality. Our centenarian professors, the holder of the dignity and rightness of a man-handled law world (can you hear the mockery here? Good), didn’t treat us girls with flowers and poetry. There were tiers of students, and we weren’t the top one. I didn’t care for that, too. I studied hard, had excellent grades, so much so I managed the entire time with full scholarships.

I have MS, don’t care about it either. The bitch tries to slap me down, I let it believe it’s winning. All the while, I work around it to my target. Yes, it takes me longer. Yes, it’s harder. But at the end of the day (or the week, or the month), I’ll have my way.

I married my high school sweetheart, not out of habit, to settle down, or even out of love only. I did it because he’s the only one who earned 100% of my trust. And he’s a badass.

I was a Country Music fan in the UK. Almost unheard of back then.

I’m an Italian in Florida. Even more, I’m an Italian mom in the States. Yes, it’s different.

Every step of the way, everything and everywhere I’ve ever gone, I’ve always been an outsider, looking at what the majority of people did and shrug it off if I didn’t like it. I never cared about anything anyone ever did, and that always made me different. A winner, sometimes. A loser, others. Eh, life, right?

The only pack I’ve ever lived with is the one made of my husband and son.

As Mr. Church says, I do my talking, walk my walk.

Which gets me in any number of troubles, really.

But then again, who cares? I’m sure I’ll come out of it, somehow.

Crescent Creek Collection
Special offer 99 cents

From the cold Canadian border, the US1 runs along the east coast with patience. Southbound, always south, until it reaches the Sunshine State.

Not the fastest way, sure, but if you have time to drive it all the way down, you might find yourself lost in one of the coastal towns that dot the US1 like little jewels.
Maybe that town’s name is Crescent Creek.

These are the stories of its people.

All Those Miles I Walked ~ Crescent Creek 1

At eighteen, DJ made a choice–her heart or her dreams. Neither was wrong, yet either would break her heart. She chose the world. Over a decade later, she returns to Crescent Creek and to the one regret she’s ever had–Scott.

Scott’s always been steady as a rocky reef. He’d loved once and when she’d left, his strong heart had crumbled like a sandcastle. Now DJ is back, and Scott wants nothing to do with her. If only Eva, his and DJ’s old friend, didn’t need their help. Because of her, he’s stuck with DJ and he’d be damned, she still gets under his skin.

DJ is a free spirit who needs the road under her feet. Scott is a family man who wants to groom his roots. With danger on their doorstep and a baby to keep safe, how much are they willing to compromise for love?

Painted Love ~ Crescent Creek 2

Thou shalt not steal.

Oh, but Florence had, and would do so one last time. Ten pieces her grandfather painted for her because he loved her. Ten pieces her mother lost, along with anything else, for loving the wrong man. She couldn’t get back everything he’d wasted away, but she’d be damned if she’d give up those paintings.

Easy and genuine, Rhett loves his life–his family, his market, his town. Until he meets a British woman with grey eyes and a cute little smile. The woman he’s been waiting for. The thing is, to love her is easy, but can he trust her?

When Rhett pushes to uncover her agenda, Flo knows she will lose something–the man she loves or what she’d been fighting for years. Which road will she choose?

His Midnight Sun ~ Crescent Creek 3

Tormented, fierce, and broken, sculptor Aidan Murphy has judged himself guilty. He yearns for love but pushes everyone away. He longs for acceptance but has lost the key to open his heart. Until he meets Summer Williams. Beautiful and smart, Dr. Williams promises haven for a man who believes he deserves none. All he has to do is let her in and risk his heart and soul.

Summer’s managed to keep her inner light alive, even through tragedy. She’s created a new life for herself and her daughter in Crescent Creek with loving, caring and fun friends–well, except brooding, breathtaking Aidan. She’s used to keeping away from his type, though. All she has to do is ignore the pull of a man who’s turning up to be much more than snarls and storms. Will her compassion and medical instincts let her?
Love can heal a broken soul and shake up a timid heart. Or it can unleash devastation and revenge.

Will Aidan and Summer survive the hurricane?

Buy link: Amazon
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THE AUTHOR

Beach bum and country music addicted, Viviana lives in a small Floridian town with her husband and her son, her die-hard fans and personal cheer squad. She spends her days between typing on her beloved keyboard, playing in the pool with her boy, and eating whatever her husband puts on her plate (the guy is that good, and she really loves eating). Besides beaching, she enjoys long walks, horse-riding, hiking, and pretty much whatever she can do outside with her family.

Find me:
On my website http://www.viviana-mackade.blog/
On Instagram
On FB
On Twitter
Amazon Author page

When You Close Your Eyes

Genre: Erotic Romance, Contemporary Romance,
Fantasy Romance

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Audio Narrated by: Geoffrey Boyes
Date of Publication: January 28, 2019

ISBN-10: 1509223606
ISBN-13: 978-1509223602
ASIN: B07L162YB5

Number of pages: 422
Word Count: 114,000
Cover Artist: Diana Carlisle

He’s stepping out of her hot fantasies and into her life.

Dreams are the perfect shelter for fantasies, safe havens to step inside without changing our daily lives. For Lark Braithwaite, all that is about to change. During the last six months, Lark has dreamt of a mysterious Irish lover who knows what she wants and gives her exactly what she needs. In her waking life in busy London, things aren’t as ideal as her long-term relationship with her controlling fiancé Charles has hit a dry spell.

When Lark is called home to Oregon for her father’s funeral, she comes face to face with the demons from her past, but she never expects to meet her dream lover in the flesh. Niall O’Hagan steps straight out of her fantasies and into her life, and the powerful connection they share rocks her foundation. Although she’s dealing with the bitterness of her fiancé’s betrayal and his jealousy, Niall soon stirs Lark’s awareness of her superficial existence and reawakens her sexuality….and her soul.

ebook Copies Available at The Following Retailers:
Amazon | iTunes | BN | Bookstrand | Google Play |Kobo

Add to Your Reading List at:
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Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/4Sxz-_cvilk

Excerpt:

Her fantasy lover is real…

“Why are you wearing a suit and tie this time?” She squinted against the sunlight. Please, God, let this be a dream. He moved his head and put her in shade.

“This time?” He lifted an eyebrow, perplexed. “You’ll have to forgive me, lass, but I’ve no idea what the devil you’re talking about.” He maneuvered himself off her and sat upright at the end of the swing.

She tucked her feet against her, sat up, and blinked at him in utter disbelief.

“I came to knock on the door when I saw you on the swing. You tossed and turned, and with the way you grunted, I assumed you were in the middle of some sort of a seizure.”

He turned his head and licked his lips, full and abused by her kisses. A mushroom cloud of mortification bloomed inside her, steadily bigger by the minute.

“Erm, you…begged me to kiss you, and then you yanked me down. One thing led to another and, well, that was pretty much the way of it. I am only human, though I know it’s no excuse.” He swallowed and stared at her, his Adam’s apple moving in his throat. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have gone down when you pulled me, but it was strange—like you knew me or something.”

Lark leaned forward and rubbed her eyes. This couldn’t be real. He had to be a hallucination. When she opened her eyes, she’d see a man in his fifties with a receding hairline, glasses, and a beer gut. She reopened her eyes, and there he was: The full package.

About the Author

Roxanne D. Howard is a U.S. Army veteran who has a bachelor’s degree in Psychology and English. She loves to read poetry, classical literature, and Stephen King. Also, she is an avid Star Wars fan, musical theater nut, and marine biology geek. Roxanne resides in the western U.S., and when she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and children. Roxanne loves to hear from her readers, and encourages you to contact her via her website and social media.

Website: www.roxannedhoward.com
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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15019190.Roxanne_D_Howard

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School Days, school days
Dear old Golden Rule days

How many of us can fill in the three ‘R’s that make up the next line?

I’ll bet many, if not all of us can. Those three ‘R’s explain why, in this country, education prizes what’s right-brain over left-brain, what’s in the head over the heart or the spirit. But it’s what’s in our hearts and our spirits that enables us to thrive. It’s in our hearts and our spirits that the fourth ‘R’ lies, and this ‘R’ to my mind is so much more needed if I am ever to make use of the other three.

It’s this fourth ‘R’ that pulsed through Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive and Helen Reddy’s I Am Woman. It’s this fourth ‘R’ that showed up big time as thousands of women marched in January 2017 in Washington D.C. and all over the world. It’s this fourth ‘R’ that rings loudly and proudly in Maya Angelou’s poem “Still I Rise”. It’s this fourth ‘R’ that I found (and continue to find) over and over again as I research African-American women for my historical romances. I found inspiration for my latest heroine in one of those women, Frances E.W. Harper.

Born in 1825, Frances and her family were free blacks living in the then slave state of Maryland. She started publishing poetry in 1845 and wrote regularly for anti-slavery newspapers. She left Maryland in 1850 and taught at Union Seminary in Ohio. She began lecturing in 1854 and from 1856 to 1860 spoke for the Anti-Slavery Society in Maine. Imagine if you will the harassment a woman of color must have encountered during the pre-civil war era, yet she persisted. That takes heart. That takes spirit. In short, that’s resilience. During reconstruction she persisted in her activism, and in 1896 she helped found the National Association of Colored Women. By the time of her death in 1911, she had at least six collections of poems and several novels.

I’m grateful for women like Frances E.W. Harper and hope I do justice to the resilience in lives like hers by the resilient heroines I create for my stories.

From STRANDED, Put It In A Book
by Michal Scott

The daughter of ex-slaves, Aziza Williams uses her freedom to teach slaves to read, a law-breaking activity that forces her to flee the United States for the Free and Independent Republic of Liberia where her independent and injustice-confronting ways garner the unwanted sexual attention of a dibia, Dulee Morlu. In a cruel twist of fate, Morlu uses Aziza’s love for education against her and imprisons her in a book. He declares she will remain there until she submits to him. After a month of imprisonment, Aziza despairs that Morlu is right: no one will ever read her book. Fear that she may surrender to him begins to overwhelm her. Then one day, hope flutters through her spirit as she senses the unfamiliar touch of Sekou Caine, an audacious and inquisitive thief, leafing through her pages.

Excerpt:

A multiple volume encyclopedia stood on shelves at chest level in a far corner. Morlu would want his wealth within easy reach. Sekou pulled down the first volume and riffled through the pages. Paper currency of all types fluttered to his feet like leaves whirling from the branches of bombax trees in winter.

Clever, Dibia. But not clever enough.

Sekou chuckled and rifled through volume after volume. By the time he reached Z a pile of money lay on the floor. He scooped the cash into his swag sack, laughing quietly at his haul.

He thrust the last volume back into place, knocking a slender manuscript off the shelf.

The Story of Aziza.

He recognized the title of the book with which Morlu had taunted him. He picked it up, fanned the pages with his thumb. A sigh drifted past him. Startled, he crouched and looked left then right. Only the night breeze disturbed the silence. He fanned through the pages again. This time a scent – light like rain, sweet like honey – graced the air.

He stared at the face of a withered old hag on the book’s cover. The image had repulsed and fascinated him. The gaze in her eyes shone with intelligence and defiance, so unlike the villagers lionizing the dibia at this moment.

Sekou opened to the flyleaf. There the image of a black beauty stared back at him. Her skin was as smooth as the hag’s was wrinkled, but the same intelligent defiance shone in her eyes. He traced the outline of her chin jutting forth with pride.

“So, ladies…” He feathered his fingers along her full lips then examined the woman on the cover again. “To which one of you does this story belong?”

Aziza’s chest heaved. Warmth from the intruder’s fingers suffused the book’s cover, intoxicating her mind and her spirit with hope. The rapid flutter of her prison’s pages kindled arousal along her labia. She shivered as delight saturated her deadened limbs.

Once again, the rapid riffling of the pages sent tremors of pleasure through her. She knew not whose hand cradled her prison, but the respectful caress told her this couldn’t be her captor. Dared she hope this might be a person she could trust to set her free?

Pre-order link: https://amzn.to/2JyIK4V

About the Author

Michal Scott is the penname of Rev. Anna Taylor Sweringen, a retired United Church of Christ and Presbyterian Church USA minister. A native New Yorker, Anna is a recent transplant to the Southwest and is enjoying the great weather along with her husband of twenty-nine years and their two cats. Her loves of history and romance came together in her first novella with Wild Rose Press, One Breath Away.

Anna has been a member of Romance Writers of America since 2003 and holds membership in six of their chapters. She also writes inspirational romance as Anna Taylor and gothic romance as Anna M. Taylor. You can connect with Michal on Twitter @mscottauthor1 and learn more about her writing at www.michalscott.webs.com.

Today is the spring equinox, which means spring is in the air. The snow is melting, the days are getting longer, and the temperatures are climbing. We may still get a freak snowstorm or two—a very likely possibility where I live—but the promise of warmer days is there.

What do you look forward to in spring?

One of the biggest things I love is shedding the heavy winter layers. I live in Canada, so that means I have to put on winter boots, a sweater, scarf, long coat, headband, and gloves before I even consider venturing through the door. I long for sneakers and a hoodie. I’m also looking forward to not having to navigate mounds of snow and sheets of ice on the way to the bus stop.

I love the sunshine, so the dreary winter days can be difficult. The longer days and more frequent sunshine really boost my mood.

Mother nature comes alive. Trees began to bud and the first flowers poke their heads out of the ground. We may get daffodils and tulips in late April or they might not show until May. Things move a little slower up here, but I know that summer is on its way.

And if spring hasn’t quite arrived and you’re looking to curl up on a cool evening with a book, you might try Wolf of her Own.

They don’t come much hotter or sexier than Mikhail Matheson from Wolf of Her Own…

Wolf of her Own
Salvation Pack, Book 9

Mikhail Matheson may be an outsider in Salvation, but he stays with the pack to be close to his sister. It has nothing to with the fact that Elise—the most fascinating woman he’s ever laid eyes on—is part of the pack. Mikhail has wanted Elise for years, but being with her could cost him his life. Soon he’ll have to decide if he’s going to leave the pack or risk it all to pursue a place at her side.

After escaping her abusive mate, Elise LaForge has made a home in Salvation with her sons. She never expected to have her emotions stirred up by the always serious and seriously handsome Mikhail. But can she finally put her past behind her and dare to move on?

When danger creeps into the pack, both she and Mikhail have to be willing to sacrifice everything to have a chance at love.

Buy Links:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07CWQ4PK1/
Entangled Publishing: https://entangledpublishing.com/wolf-of-her-own.html
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wolf-of-her-own-n-j-walters/1128615958
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/wolf-of-her-own/id1381437118
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wolf-of-her-own

TEASER:

He turned and got his first real view of her bedroom. This was Elise’s private domain. Sheer white curtains hung at the windows, allowing in light and giving the illusion of privacy. The bed was queen-sized and covered with a white comforter edged in lace. The quilt that she’d had wrapped around her this morning was folded and sitting on the edge of the bed.

Drawn to it, he walked over and ran his fingers over it. The colors were pale and feminine—pink, cream, green, blue, and peach. He noticed the other little touches—a pale pink bench at the end of the bed, a chest of drawers painted white with glass knobs, and a wicker chair in the corner with throw pillows in colors that matched the quilt.

It was totally and utterly feminine. There wasn’t a hint of masculine anywhere.

And wasn’t that the point? Her mate had probably had everything his way in the years they’d been married, so it was only natural she’d swing totally the other way when she was designing a space for herself.

It suited her—intensely feminine without being too fussy. There were only a few extra pillows piled on the bed and the only lace was a thin band around the edge of her comforter. He really felt like the big bad wolf standing here in her room.

A smile tilted up the corners of his mouth. Damned if he didn’t like it.

She really needed something masculine to ground the space—see, watching all those decorating shows with his sister years ago had taught him something—and he was just the something masculine that was needed.

About the Author

N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

Visit me at:
Website: http://www.njwalters.com
Blog: http://www.njwalters.blogspot.com
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Whenever I think about what makes me lucky, I come up with a long list.

Today, that list includes stopping by Delilah’s blog to visit with you. This week, I’m grateful to celebrate a holiday that carries on the traditions of my family—and provides plenty of yummy leftovers! And every day, I’m extraordinarily lucky to have a career I love.

I can’t tell you being an author is the most fun job I’ve ever had, because it involves a lot of work, sweat, and tears.

The work comes from trying to bring the ideas in my head to life on the page.

The sweat comes from waiting to see how my editor reacts to those ideas. 

And the tears—oh, the tears! They’re the best part of the job.

Sad tears. . . when I learn about my characters’ lives before the book begins, then when I discover what’s going wrong in their lives now. (As my books are romances, conflict is a given.)

Frustrated tears. . . when the hardheaded hero and heroine can’t see beyond those conflicts to realize they belong together.

Uncontrollable tears. . . when they—or a character who plays an important role in their lives—get hit with a heartbreaking dose of reality.

And the best tears of all. . . the ones that flow when the hero and heroine have finally reached their happy-ever-after.

No wonder I say I’m so lucky!

For this St. Patrick’s week post, I’m sharing a clip from one of my books, Family Matters, a romance that features a heroine from a large and crazy Irish family and a hero who would like to put half of them in jail.

Family Matters

Here’s a quick peek from their first meeting:

The man took a deep breath, which now strained the buttons on his immaculate white shirt, and traced his thumbnail across one eyebrow. “I only argue before a jury. As we’re not in court—yet—that doesn’t apply here.”

Kerry swallowed a wave of panic. “You’re a lawyer?”

“Yes.”

Great. A lawyer who had just stood ranting at Uncle Bren. Things couldn’t get any worse. Or could they? And did she really want to know? “You look like you could use a little assistance with this…meeting.”

He smiled. Despite the situation, she couldn’t help but notice how it changed his entire expression, easing the hard frown lines bisecting his forehead, even lightening the color of his eyes from near black to a dark greenish-gray. An interesting transformation.

She didn’t trust the change in him for a minute.

Still, she squinted at him and found her head tilting slightly, her fingers curling around an imaginary paintbrush. With an effort, she blinked, bringing herself back to harsh reality.

“I could use a warrant and a padded cell.” He gestured over his shoulder. “If you think you’ve got any chance of knocking some sense into that scam artist, go right ahead.”

She squinted again, not in pleasure this time. “Wait a minute—”

“You’ve got no call to say that,” Uncle Bren interrupted, glaring at the man.

He sounded intimidating enough, but Kerry knew the real threat would come from her grandmother, always famous for jumping into any brawl.
Kerry looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, here Gran came, pushing her way through the crowd, barreling toward the lawyer and Uncle Bren.

Obviously, Kerry’s luck is about to run out! Still, she will do anything for the family she loves.

So. . . when it comes to luck, how about you? What good things in life make you feel lucky?

Find Family Matters:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0041KLD7E/
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/family-matters-barbara-white-daille/1100347286
Harlequin: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781426869211_family-matters.html

About Barbara

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 also loves writing, reading, and chocolate. Come to think of it, she enjoys writing about those subjects, too!

Barbara wrote her first short story at the age of nine, then typed “The End” to her first novel many years later…in the eighth grade. Now she’s writing contemporary romance on a daily basis. Sign up for her newsletter to keep up with the latest in her writing life: https://barbarawhitedaille.com/newsletter.

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UPDATE: The winners are Debra, Monica, and Colleen!
*~*~*

Post a comment and you’ll be entered to win a free download of this book!

Raw Silk

“… This is one hot book. This is my first m/f/m, m/f/m/f, f/f, and m/m all in one book! And whoa nelly, this was a smoking hot story….” 5 Stars and Top Pick, Night Owl Reviews

“…Delilah Devlin has a scorching hot read on her hands with RAW SILK…Ms. Devlin gives her readers a sexually charged romance…Ms. Devlin turned up the heat with her intense love scenes and memorable characters. I loved Raw Silk, and I would recommend this story to every reader.” 5 Angels and Recommended Read, Fallen Angels Reviews

“…The always exhilarating author Delilah Devlin knows exactly what her readers want – daring, erotic and wicked delightful stories filled with amazing characters, exciting story lines, passion and an abundance of emotions that will keep them riveted to the pages and once again she delivers the goods with RAW SILK…” 4 Hearts, The Romance Studio

A wicked, no-strings one-night stand turns unexpectedly complicated when three lonely hearts collide…

Camille sacrificed romance for success long ago. Now that the lingerie company she and her best friend built is hugely successful, she has a few regrets. Wanting to let down her hair and explore the possibilities, she agrees to meet a man at a bar for drinks only to wind up needing help when she rebuffs his sexual overtures.

Jake and Daniel are two firefighters hitting the bar for a quick drink after a long shift when they see a classy beauty fending off an overzealous boyfriend. With a flex of biceps they chase him off then settle in to seduce the lovely woman whose eyes reflect a hunger they understand all too well. What starts as a simple, pleasurable one-night stand, quickly burns up the sheets.

While Jake knows he can’t let Camille crush their relationship because of age differences, Daniel still thinks he can walk—until he gets a whiff of Camille’s best friend Lacey. Suddenly three isn’t enough.

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Excerpt

Nothing was better than a lip-gloss kiss—sweet, silky, made for savoring.

Jake Lassiter picked up his beer and drew on the froth, imagining another kind of cream slipping between his lips while he stared at the woman’s shiny pout. She didn’t seem to realize anyone stared as she slicked her lips with a clear lube, tucked a stray blonde curl behind her ear and closed the mirrored compact. Or maybe she did and the performance was just a tease.

“Dayum, bro. Gotta have me some of that,” Daniel Parker murmured.

Jake shot him a glare, just to check, and sure enough, his best buddy was staring at the same honey-haired beauty.

“I call dibs.” Danny scowled, humor gleaming in his dark brown eyes.

“Can’t call dibs. I saw her first. I watched her come in the door while you were paying for the drinks.”

“Oh yeah? What color is her hair?” Jake asked, leaning toward the bar to cut off Danny’s view.

“Who gives a damn? Did you see her ass?”

Jake snorted, annoyed they were talking like two never-been-laid teenagers, but that’s what usually happened after a long week when both of them were too worn out to rub a single brain cell between them. That either had been able to lift bleary eyes past their beers said a lot for the woman’s appeal. She shone like a beacon in the badly lit bar.

“Why not let the lady make her own choice?” Danny drawled.

“Like she’d come near either one of us,” he muttered, his gaze sweeping the expensive cut of her navy suit, the sleek fall of her chin-length hair and understated makeup. She wore “class” like he did a pair of well-washed jeans—comfortably.

Still, it had been her expression that had snagged his attention. Something soft and wistful shone in her large, dark eyes. She wished she was anywhere but here. Read the rest of this entry »