Did you ever see a dream walking? Well, I did…and I’m not just quoting that old 1933 song of the same name. In her poem, “Still I Rise”, Maya Angelou penned these words:

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave

Every time I look in a mirror, I realize I may be some slave’s dream walking.

Somewhere in North Carolina, my great-grandmother Julie Pitt Hagan’s people were owned by a man named Pitt. On January 1, 1863 when Abraham Lincoln issued the final Emancipation Proclamation, which declared “that all persons held as slaves” within the rebel states “are, and henceforward shall be free,” the slaves on the Pitt plantation could consider themselves freed.

I wonder did Julie’s people gather and listen to a reading of the proclamation as depicted in this 1864 engraving printed by James Watts? If they did, did they dream and hope of a descendant like me, owned by no one but herself? If they did, have I — their descendent — lived a life that realized their dreams and hopes?

The Brooklyn church I served once held a Watchnight service to ring in the new year. When the clock struck twelve, we ended the service with the reading of the Emancipation Proclamation. As the words were read, I experienced the anticipation – and trepidation — my ancestors might have felt as January 1 1863 brought with it the possibility of freedom. I felt inspired to live a life worthy of my ancestors’ dreams and hopes. As I worshipped that night I recalled Martin Luther King Jr.’s 1963 dream that called for economic and social justice for all. I resolved to make that dream my dream, too.

This month as we honor Dr. King’s life and work, I encourage you to think about the dreams and hopes of your ancestors, reflect on the dreams and hopes of all people everywhere continuing to rise above circumstances and conditions that conspire to keep them down. You, like me, are somebody’s dream, somebody’s hope. Be a dream walking, see dreams walking all around you and do all you can to bring them pass.

Better to Mary Than to Burn

 
Wife Wanted: Marital relations as necessary. Love not required nor sought…

A bridal lottery seems the height of foolishness to ex-slave Caesar King, but his refusal to participate in the town council’s scheme places him in a bind. He has to get married to avoid paying a high residence fine or leave the Texas territory. After losing his wife in childbirth, Caesar isn’t ready for romance. A woman looking for a fresh start without any emotional strings is what he needs.

Queen Esther Payne, a freeborn black from Philadelphia, has been threatened by her family for her forward-thinking, independent ways. Her family insists she marry. Her escape comes in the form of an ad. If she must marry, it will be on her terms. But her first meeting with the sinfully hot farmer proves an exciting tussle of wills that stirs her physically, intellectually, and emotionally.

In the battle of sexual one-upmanship that ensues, both Caesar and Queen discover surrender can be as fulfilling as triumph.

Book links:
Wild Rose Press – http://bit.ly/2DHdb0x
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2JyLKu1

Excerpt:

Caesar looked at Queen. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. She gasped then swallowed hard, unnerved by the sight. Her lips trembled.

Reverend Warren smiled at Queen then addressed Caesar. “You may kiss the bride.”

Kiss? Queen flinched. There’d be no kissing in this marriage. She’d promised to be his wife for two years with sex provided at agreed upon intervals. At the end of two years that requirement would end and she’d be free to live as she chose. She could go anywhere she pleased, especially with the respectability of missus before her name and Caesar’s promised severance. No. This coupling made them business partners. Business partners did not kiss.

She extended her hand to seal their arrangement. He returned the handshake but instead of releasing her, his too rough fingers imprisoned hers and pulled her to him. With his other hand he captured the back of her head and secured her mouth to his.

A squeal of surprise parted her lips. His thick tongue swept into the shelter of her mouth. The assault ambushed her with pleasure and vanquished her resistance.

Her hands rose, as if of their own volition, and pressed against his chest. The firm muscle beneath his shirt coaxed her hands to linger, to explore—however discretely—the muscle beneath her palms and fingertips.

Caesar broke off the kiss.

The embrace didn’t last more than a few seconds, but Queen swayed, robbed of reason and resentment.

Reverend Warren handed Caesar the marriage certificate and shook his hand. Queen stood, mouth gaping, startled by the confusion roiling through her mind, amazed by the moisture roiling in her sex.

With a simple kiss, this bull of a man had exhumed the sexual hunger she’d thought buried.

“Thanks for being available, Pastor.” Caesar shook the minister’s hand. “Mother Maybelle.” He hugged and kissed the older woman. Again, their affection stirred an unexpected sympathy in Queen’s chest. She sucked in a breath to dispel it.

He gripped Queen by the upper arm and hauled her back to the wagon.

“What’s the rush?” she asked.

He hoisted her up to the seat by her waist before she could object. She swallowed the gasp elicited by the press of possession in his grasp.

“Daylight’s burning,” he stated. “Don’t want to be caught out after dark.”

Queen eyed his lips, their fullness still remembered against her mouth. She shifted several times but found no relief from the pressure pulsing along her labia. Good Lord, how was she to make sense of so strong a physical reaction to this stranger? Had celibacy left her defenseless against physical contact from anyone?

Or was this physical attraction genuine?

I’ve written romance for the last five years. In that time, I’ve read even more. From contemporary to paranormal I love multiple sub-genres. In that same amount of time, I’ve always loved action adventure movies, including sci-fi movies and shows. Imagine my surprise when my muse sent me an idea that would combine them both.

Queue the futuristic world, where humans have colonized the galaxy and the richest have migrated to planets like Jupiter, Neptune, and Saturn, leaving Earth to become a haven for the production of drugs and booze. Out of these ashes emerge drug runners and bootleggers to carry the fruits of Earth’s labor to the upper planets, outsmarting the government and making as much money as they can.

It’s a bit lawless, and crafting this story and world was filled with fun and a bit of frustration. I did plenty of research in the form of watching episodes of some awesome movies and television shows. Today, I want to talk about some of my favorites.

First up, Farscape. We humans think we’re the smartest beings in the known universe. When NASA Scientist and Astro-genius, John Crichton is slingshot to the far side of the universe, he finds out otherwise. Add in the super soldier, Aeryn Sun, female bad ass, and I was smitten from episode one. Fun fact is how the Muppet Studios were involved in this series and the unique, fresh take on possible alien species. Four seasons was never enough.

Second, Dark Matter. This series is another that was cut too short. There was so much to explore, from character dynamics to other dimensional threats. Beyond that, this is another series where there are a ton of strong females to feed off of as inspiration—Number Two and her fabulous run as captain of a ship, add in a younger female techie, Number Five, and the ever hilarious Android. It’s a female fab cast, rounded out with male characters who respect and support them even amid heists and running from the law.

Finally, Firefly. This 13-episode series holds a special place in my heart, as it does for many. The dialogue is priceless, the character building sublime. Nobody holds a candle to Captain Malcolm Reynolds, the guy who wants to be an anti-hero, but ultimately isn’t. Kaylee, River, and Zoe. Yes, I like Inara too, but she’s not my favorite. The strong females are fabulous and not in the least intimidated by their Captain. If anything his strengths encourage the ladies to run with their own.

I’ve waxed poetic enough about my favorite sci-fi shows. What are yours? There are many I haven’t mentioned. Some more spec fiction than sci-fi per se. Like Fringe, Warehouse 13, Sliders, Star Trek (all the iterations). Tell me your favorite sci-fi show, movie, character – even if it’s from a video game. Be sure to comment to get in on my sweet giveaway in honor of my new release, A Talent For Trouble.

A Talent For Trouble

Drug runner Emilio Morales is one deal away from being the sole runner from Earth to the upper planets—until his partner attempts a double-cross. Now, Emilio’s stuck in a disabled spaceship with an unpredictable, attractive female who’s willing to help him out if he’ll assist her in retrieving her ship from an impound facility.

Antonia ‘Toni’ Smith is sick and tired of being beholden to men. The only way to guarantee freedom is to get back her bootlegging ship to run her own business again. When Emilio kills her ticket out, she’s forced to rely on him for assistance. Emilio, the most wanted and annoying man in the solar system, is a sexy-as-hell means to an end.

But every plan the duo makes falls apart and every day they spend in each other’s company increases the tension between them.

With the death toll rising and their defenses low, can Emilio and Toni get the happy ending they want, without falling for each other in the process?

Buy Links:
Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | Totally Bound | Goodreads

Excerpt

He poured himself a glass. Turning it slowly, spreading the liquid up the sides and back down, he noticed he wasn’t alone. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“No,” a sultry feminine voice responded. “There’s nothing over there isn’t made in the still or fermented in a barrel.”

“Suit yourself.” Emilio turned and took in the view. Mother Mary.

The woman, a vision of sin, stood angled toward the fancy window display where three floor-to-ceiling panels showcased the twinkling view. She wore a glimmering red dress, which sparkled even more as she turned toward him. Her hair was a pale-white blonde, short and framing her face, giving it a distinct diamond shape. She’d be labeled gorgeous, more than the word could construe, with her eyes the color of whiskey—and not the cheap stuff in his glass. No, the full-bodied swirling amber and caramel colors.

“What brings you to Casa Manolo?” He swallowed a little more whiskey than he intended and did his best to sound suave, but the words came out more like a croak.

“Nothing that concerns you.” The dismissal paired with a smile, a little thing revealing flawless teeth. He glanced down at her one note of defiance—boots. Grav boots to be exact, black and fierce. A deep, soul-encapsulating need clamped onto his brain, a need he’d waited years to experience. This was the woman he’d been waiting for. The type he’d always wanted. The one he’d call his.

He walked closer, eager to see if she took a similar interest in him. “Oh? Well, I’m happy to make this visit less business and more pleasure. Your name is?”

The words escaped his mouth as he glanced at her lips—expressive, full and waiting for his kiss, even when those same lips uttered, “Too expensive for you.”

About the Author

Landra Graf consumes at least one book a day, and has always been a sucker for stories where true love conquers all. She believes in the power of the written word, and the joy such words can bring. In between spending time with her family and having book adventures, she writes romance with the goal of giving everyone, fictional or not, their own happily ever after.

Author Links:
Website: https://landragraf.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LandraGraf
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/landra.graf
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Landra-Graf/e/B00IESJED4/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1440641120&sr=8-1

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 “Infamy?”

The characters featured in this story—Sheikh Harun Ali and his wife, Marianne Benson–are both lawyers who focus on international law and their practice is devoted to compensating the victims of terrorism. So I was looking for a new hook, something on the horizon that could pose a serious threat to the world and in particular, the United States. I found it in an article on advances in “cloaking” technology or making planes disappear. For years, we have had stealth planes that do not appear on radar, but can be seen in the air if anyone is looking. I wanted to take that a step further: What if someone created a means to actually cloak a plane and hide it from everyone’s view? What if that technology fell into the hands of terrorists? And “Infamy” was born.

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

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. Little peculiarities that I have witnessed in lawyers and the law always work their way into my stories.

Q. Any plans to write outside the romance genre completely?

Actually, I ghostwrite non-fiction for other professionals—doctors, lawyers, financial gurus—so I dip my toes into a lot of different genres. However, I have been itching to write a book about a relative who founded a religious cult. I researched it for years and found a lot of information that had been buried. I have a pile of paper a foot high. Someday, I need to go through it carefully and start writing. I have the interest, just not the time.

Infamy

Infamy. An evil or wicked act. Terrorists bent on revenge have found a way to make planes disappear from the sky, without a trace. And when one winds up buried in a Wisconsin cornfield, it’s a race against time to rescue the passengers from certain death.

When international law attorney Sheikh Harun Ali is lured to the Amazon and warned of a frightening plot against the United States, he and his wife, Marianne Benson, enlist the assistance of their neighbors, covert agent Cade Matthews and his wife, Constitutional Law Professor Janet MacLachlan. Ultimately, these feisty lawyers are pushed to the wall, desperate to find a plane that has been buried in an unknown cornfield, the passengers still on board. The terrorists’ hatred for the Alis is absolute—the Alis once left their organization bankrupt and broken—but they hate America more. And their fiendish games are just beginning. They are seeking a much bigger prize, one that could destroy a nation and possibly the world. An act that will live in infamy.

Excerpt:
Cade grasped his water bottle with both hands. “Before his brother died, he said eight words.”

Harun nodded. “They are going to make American planes disappear.”

Dianna’s eyes grew wide.

Anders rubbed a hand over his face, then through his long dark hair. His deep green eyes stared up at the ceiling of the plane. “Fucking hell. Nine-eleven all over again.”

“That is our fear,” Harun said. “However, so many precautionary measures are in place in this country, simply hijacking planes and flying them into buildings is no longer easy. They must have a different plan.”

Cade emitted a heavy sigh. “And that is what we need to figure out. What exactly do those eight words mean? For example, he did not specify that the planes would disappear in America, which could mean that they will disappear abroad or over oceans.”

Anders sat up straight. “And disappear could mean many things. Crash. Hijack. Pull a Malaysia. How many ways can you make a plane disappear?”

Buy links:
Publisher: http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2291-2-infamy/
Amazon: coming soon
Smashwords: coming soon
Barnes and Noble: coming soon

About Seelie Kay

Seelie Kay is a nom de plume for a writer, editor, and author with more than 30 years of experience in law, journalism, marketing, and public relations. When she 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:
www.seeliekay.com
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

Coming soon:
Cult (Part Three, Feisty Lawyers): TBD
Seizing Hope (Divorce Divas anthology): TBD

I love my naughty stepbrothers! And I think I could keep writing them forever. For me, they’re all different. This one was especially fun to write. A woman who works for her stepbrother has to help him flip a client and convince this other man to invest in their family company. This Russian’s background is a bit sketchy. He’s scary big, speaks in a heavy accent, and doesn’t suffer fools easily. My heroine, Lila, gets trapped, by the Russian and her brother, into accompanying Fedor on a trip. Now, she’s completely at his mercy… Hope you enjoy the excerpt. She’s no shrinking violet, and he has limits to his patience… With His Client releases on Tuesday! So you don’t have long to wait to read the rest of it! And as always, if you love this story and want more of my couple, you have to tell me so! I can be convinced…

A woman tempts a Russian strongman to save her stepbrother’s company…

Pre-order you copy here!

An excerpt…

The bedroom where he left me to change was gorgeous. The rug was an antique Persian, the colors softened with age. Blue, green, and gold medallions against a deep brown. The bed was covered in a rich brown brocade comforter and looked sumptuous, but I tried not to look there. It was large enough to accommodate his body with tall posts on each corner. All seating in the room was upholstered in a dark, buttery-soft leather. The bathroom was enormous with a walk-in shower with many heads and tiled in natural stone. The bathtub was copper on the outside and coated with an ivory enamel on the inside. I’d need to use the steps beside it because the sides were so deep.

I heard rustling in the bedroom and hurried back into the room to find a servant, dressed casually in a cotton skirt and tank, emptying my suitcases. She was pretty and young, and her smile flashed white against her dark skin. “I’ll only be a minute, miss.”

I cleared my throat. “Fedor…Mr. Medved…?”

“He’s waiting for you in the living room. Dinner is being prepared. He thought you might like a drink before eating. He wants you to wear this,” she said, sliding open a closet door and pulling out a dress that was more like a filmy caftan.

The material was so thin, I knew my shape would be revealed. Underwear would look ridiculous beneath it. The dark filigree pattern against a blush background would play peekaboo with my nipples and the dark hair cloaking my crotch. “I don’t suppose he included a slip…?”

She giggled, and her smile stretched wider. “He included sandals.”

“Of course,” I said, my mouth going dry.

When she left, I didn’t let myself think about what I should do—which was select one of the outfits Brian had packed. They were short but covered me. Instead, I stripped and pulled the caftan over my head. I spent a few minutes repairing my makeup, brushed my hair, then slipped on the dark sandals. As I walked from the bedroom, the thin silk fluttered against my hot skin, gliding against my nipples, between my legs. The caftan was as much of a tease for me as it would be for him.

By the time I found him, I was already aroused, and there was no use pulling at the fabric that caressed my tight nipples to try to hide that fact.

He faced a wall of windows overlooking a long strip of pristine beach. He’d removed his jacket, and I noted that his white dress shirt was perfectly tailored, forming to his broad shoulders, lean back and waist. His slacks hugged his rounded buttocks.

He had to know I was there; the soft leather soles of my sandals slapped on the tiled floor. I came up beside him and looked out at the view. From the corner of my eye, I watched as he glanced sideways, his gaze raking over my body. I couldn’t help drawing a deeper breath that lifted my chest—and my tight nipples.

“Why didn’t you just ask me to come naked to you?” I said, glancing his way.

He turned his body then lifted a hand to finger the silk at my waist. “Do you like how it feels?”

His voice was different. Deeper, smokier. My breasts quivered as I drew a shuddering breath. “Yes,” I whispered.

He gave a nod. “Your pleasure is important to me.”

I pressed my thighs together in an attempt to stopper the moisture wetting my sex. “Why should my pleasure matter?” I asked, lifting my chin.

His mouth quirked, and I stared at that small smile. “I am not an ogre, Lila.”

“You forced me here.”

He canted his head. “Did I?”

“You knew I couldn’t refuse.”

“You mean, your brother wouldn’t let you refuse. You could have said no…or simply left my limo waiting at the curb. But here you are—wearing my gown.”
I dropped any pretense of pride along with my chin and gazed down at our shoes—his polished loafers, my scanty sandals. Drawing in a breath for courage, I said, “You’re right. I wanted to come. I guess…I was…curious…”

Fedor’s hands reached out, palms up, and moved slowly toward me.

I could have stepped back, but instead, allowed him to cup my chin. He raised my face. “Before we met, I knew who you were. I have…friends…inside your company, who told me of your frustration with your brother. That you warned him long ago of where his excesses would lead him.” His dark eyes narrowed as he stared down at me. “You are lovers.”

“We…are.” But looking at him, I knew that was no longer true. “Were,” I whispered.

He gave a crisp nod. “I don’t share, Lila.”

“This is… I’m not…” I shook my head at my dithering. “I still don’t understand why I’m here. Is it to punish my brother—or play some game?”

“I saw you before…at a gathering at your country club.”

I shook my head. “That’s not possible.”

One eyebrow arched.

“I would have remembered,” I said, lowering both of mine. And it was the truth. The first time I’d looked at him through the screen in the restaurant, he’d taken away my breath. He was too large, too commanding to miss.

“I watched from a distance while you walked with your brother. His hand against the small of your back. I knew then that the rumors of your affair were true. But you were as much mother as lover, trying to steer him toward the people he should speak with, your eyes narrowing when he drank too much. I thought your…attentions…were wasted on one so unworthy.”

“Brian isn’t unworthy,” I said, frowning.

“He’s a child.”

I drew another deep breath, ready to argue, but he was right. Brian was spoiled. Unprepared for his role as CEO. His father had thought he’d have time to groom him.

“I remember thinking how remarkable it was that you were the same age. Both lovely to look at, but he’s empty and immature. While you are…too good for him.”

I shook my head. “I’m not. My mother married into wealth, but I—”

“Had the same opportunities, to a point. I understand. His set is privileged, with advantages they never earned. I could care less about their privilege.”

I sighed. “I don’t get it. You sneer at him. You refused his request. You don’t care to partner with him, I get it. So, why am I here?’

“It’s simple. I want you.” He pursed his mouth and tilted his head in a sideways nod. “And I want your shares. I will not invest my money with a fool. He cannot retain control.”

Disappointment chilled me. “Your shares, alone, wouldn’t give you control, and he wouldn’t give you controlling shares.”

“I will work with you. You are sensible. Smart. You wouldn’t balk at instituting a program of austerity to rebuild your company. You will tell him that I will accept thirty-three if you are given thirty-four.”

“Why would he give up control?”

“Because he has no choice—and he believes you will give it back to him.”

“And I would.”

Again, Fedor raised one wicked brow. “Would you, even if you thought it wasn’t in his best interests?”

I paused, unsure now. “You want a partnership, and you think that I’ll go along with you when it comes to voting. Is that why we’re here? Are you trying to seduce me into giving you control over my shares?”

“I wanted a chance to talk to you. To go over some ideas I have for saving your company and for moving forward. But I could have accomplished that over a private business meeting. No, I told you already. I want you.”

I barely stopped myself from stomping my foot. He was infuriating. “You said you want me, and you want my shares.”

He grunted. “Perhaps I didn’t say that right. I want you. With me.”

I widened my eyes to glare at him. How many ways could he tell me he wanted my damn shares? “You want me—with you—so you’ll have power over my brother.”

He gave me a darkly fierce frown. “I don’t want power over yourr brother. Just leverrage.”

Suddenly, I wanted to laugh. His frustration was making his accent thicker, his Rs sounding like growls. His anger spiked my own. And again, that quickly, I was aroused. I tossed back my hair and gave him a harder glare. “You want to seduce me to gain leverage over my brother.”

“I would seduce you anyway.” His jaws ground together. “I do not want to fuck yourr brother. I want to fuck you.”

My mouth twitched, and I fought not to grin. Pushing him had been fun. Which probably wasn’t very smart. The man had earned a rep for his fists. I guessed it was time to give him a break. I cleared my throat and nodded. “Just so we’re straight. I don’t like being played.”

A tic pulsed beside his eye. “I am not playing you. I am being straightforward. You arre not.”

I lifted my brows.

“You are wearring my gown.” His hands clenched at his sides. Then he stepped closer, towering over me. “You wanted me to see you.”

Well, yeah. But I didn’t like that he read me so easily. “I wore what you provided because I thought it was part of the deal.”

One dark brow rose. “You would sell yourrself to me?”

“I was ready to do whatever was needed to save Brian’s company. We’re family.” I tilted my chin.

He gave a sharp shake of his head. “Not blood.”

I felt my bottom lip push forward. “He’s the only family I have.”

“And he was only too happy to give you to me,” he said, lowering his face toward mine.

I swallowed. “Only because he knew…”

“You arre trrying my patience,” he whispered. “What did he know?”

God, my nipples hurt they were so tight. “That I want you.”

His hands shot up and gripped my hips. His face lowered. The moment our mouths touched, it was as though a match scratched. We ignited.

For those of you who don’t know, my sister Elle James and I started out writing stories together. We were busy learning the craft and leaning on each other’s strengths. One of us was better at dialogue, the other better at description…one of us was better with love scenes…  In the end, we wrote several stories together before heading off in our own directions. One thing we loved writing together was romantic comedy. When we brainstormed a new story, we’d have each other in stitches from laughter. We wrote a series of comedies, all set in Texas (we were both living there at the time!), about friends who’d made it big but hadn’t yet found their true loves. This post is just a reminder that there’s an entire series of fun awaiting you…

Here are all the Texas Billionaires Club stories…

 

 

Contest

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Tarzan & Janine

See what happens when a secret billionaire and an aspiring actress get a little wild in Texas

A man with a soft spot for women…

Closet Texas billionaire, Tanner Peschke has three months to prove he can make a profit at the family used car dealership or he will lose his job, disappoint his father and break his promise to his dying mother. The root of his problem is women. He can’t resist them—any of them. All it takes is the scent of delicate perfume or a misty-eyed gaze from an elderly woman with a sob story, and he becomes silly putty in the hands of his feminine customers. Until, with a stroke of luck and a buck of a mechanical bull, he hires Janine Davis to star with him in the dealership’s live TV ads.

A woman who won’t let a handsome cowboy get in the way of her dream…

Determined to make a name for herself, Janine needs to pay the bills between acting jobs. The offer to do a series of commercials for Peschke Motors is a chance to get her face “out there”. Recognizing a player when she sees one, Janine agrees to co-star with her handsome employer fully intending to keep their relationship strictly professional. First break she gets, she’s heading to Hollywood.

Their jungle-themed commercials take a crazy twist, and Tanner finds himself falling…from a sales banner while chasing a monkey. But more importantly, he’s falling for Janine. She’s just the one woman to tame this cowboy’s wild heart. Convincing her to stay with him might be harder than catching a mischievous monkey.

Order Ebook: Kindle | Nook | Kobo | iBooks
Order Print: Amazon

Excerpt

“It’s time, Miss Davis,” came a male voice, not Tanner’s, through the hollow panel of the bathroom door.

“I’ll be right out,” she called. Alternating between tugging down the hem of the bottoms to cover her fanny, and pulling up the top to cover her breasts, she stormed out of the bathroom, across the showroom floor, and out into the lighted car lot.

Judging by the gauntlet of wolf calls she passed through to get to the television crew, every salesman in the dealership must have stayed late. They all wanted to witness the live filming by a group of college students Tanner hired to keep the budget low. As part of the crew’s curriculum requirement, the commercial would air live on the university’s public television station.

A man carrying a spider monkey approached and shoved the critter into her arms. “This is Spunky. You need to keep a hold on the monkey at all times, or he’ll take off. Catching him will take us hours.”

“Hey! Nobody said anything about a monkey.” Janine pushed the little guy back at his handler, but the jerk turned and trotted to a position beyond the spotlights. Her chances of being taken seriously as an actress slipping through the seams of her skimpy costume and the busy fingers of the monkey, Janine suppressed the urge to scream.

“Quiet, everybody. Two minutes to take,” the young director’s voice boomed through a megaphone. “Where’s Tanner?”

The animal handler called to Janine from the sidelines. “Remember, whatever you do, don’t let go of the monkey.”

“Right, don’t let go of the monkey.” Janine’s head swiveled side to side in search of the nutcase who’d talked her into this crazy commercial. She’d felt more in control on the bucking mechanical bull at the convention than she did right now.

Suddenly, the crowd of used car salesmen parted. Tanner strode toward her with his long, loose-limbed gait and all the confidence and charm of a professional actor. Tanner, dressed casually in his ever-present blue jeans, chambray shirt, cowboy hat and cowboy boots, smiled as he worked his way through the crowd of onlookers.

Janine snorted. I’ll bet he’s never ridden a horse a day in his life.

He walked right up and turned the full force of his smile on her.

Damn. Her knees went weak, complementing the butterflies in her stomach and the monkey fidgeting in her arms.

As the cameras moved into position, panic filled her. “You never told me what my lines were. What am I supposed to say?”

“Just stand over there and look beautiful. I’ll do all the rest.” He adjusted his hat with enough confidence for both of them. “And smile when I introduce you. That frown makes you look mean.”

Janine opened her mouth to carve his enormous ego down to size and remind him she was an actress, not a model.

Before one word could cross Janine’s lips, she was cut off by the cameraman. “Mr. Peschke, I hope you’re ready because this is not a rehearsal, you’re going live in five…four…three…two…” He pointed ‘one’. The camera was trained on Tanner, the red button lit, and the feed was direct.

Without missing a beat, Tanner smiled, looking completely at ease in front of the camera. “Howdy, folks. It’s a jungle out there. We know how difficult wading through the gimmicks and sales jargon is when buying a used car.”

She had to admit he sounded charming and genuine. After sabotaging her job with BS-Squared, he’d conned Janine into taking this job. She bet he could sell ice to Eskimos.

Spunky’s hairy little hand slipped beneath the bra of her outfit.

Janine slapped at his hand, eliciting a shriek from the monkey. “You must be a male,” she muttered, wishing Tanner would fall on his pretty face in front of the camera.

“Are you sick of the new car prices and immediate depreciation when you drive a car off the lot? Let us take the monkey off your back…” Tanner swung an arm in her direction.

Spunky crawled up on her shoulders and played with her hair. How about getting this monkey off my back? Crap. She’d spent hours trying to fix her hair beautifully for the commercial. Great, when they finally get the cameras on me, I look like the monkey.

“…and show you what we’ve got in low mileage, pre-owned vehicles at rock-bottom prices.”

At that moment, the creature latched onto the strings holding her halter-top in place. She felt her boobs dip and her stomach knotted.

“Stop that, Spunky,” she whispered, making a grab for both of his tiny, dexterous fingers and the tail that seemed just as facile.

The monkey ignored her, chattering happily, hands and tail dodging her flailing attempts.

“Join us this weekend for our ‘Monkey Off Your Back Sale.’ We’ll be servin’ free banana milkshakes to all the folks who come out.” Tanner’s voice kept up the running monologue despite the monkey’s antics, true to form for a car salesman.

Janine simmered as she struggled for control. Let’s get this over with before this monkey craps on me.

I’ll be referring to “hero and heroine” since that fits the examples I’m using, but this tension can also come from additional protagonists, such as from a love triangle, exes, or other main characters involved in the plot.

Characters show up in a story with enough personal history and emotional baggage to carry the book. But a plot with a workaholic hero or heroine can layer in lots of extra tension.

After all, how do you get a person’s attention when he or she is completely focused on the job? Or maybe worse, when there’s a line you can’t cross because that person is your boss?

I’ve written each of these storylines—in standalone books—in my Snowflake Valley series of sweet romances.

And honestly, I didn’t write these back-to-back storylines intentionally.

The first book (Snowbound with Mr. Wrong) tells the story of exes who had broken up over his workaholic tendencies. Ironically—and obviously, from the title! LOL—they’re now snowbound together. On Christmas Eve. With a trio of unrelated kids who, depending on their age, are scared, bossy, and hormonally cranky. Recipe for disaster, for sure.

The second book (One Week to Win Her Boss) features the first heroine’s sister, who works for the owner of a private ski lodge and has fallen hard for her boss. And who, unfortunately, has to agree to a fake dating relationship with him.

Believe me, in each book, the hero and heroine have each other’s attention! 😉

So, I’m not making it up when I tell you these books were amazingly fun to write.

Below, I’ll share an excerpt from Snowbound with Mr. Wrong (which my publisher has priced for 99 cents this month!).  First here’s a peek at the back cover of the book:

Snowbound with Mr. Wrong

Worst. Day. Ever. After Lyssa Barnett’s sister tricks her into reprising her role at Snowflake Valley’s annual children’s party, she doesn’t think anything can be worse than squeezing into her too-small elf costume. Then tall, dark, and way too handsome Nick Tavlock shows up to play Santa…and an unexpected storm leaves them snowbound in the isolated lodge.

The last thing Nick wants is to spend a cozy Christmas Eve with a trio of kids and the woman who dumped him. But as much as Lyssa frustrates him, he can’t stop thinking about her. And soon, he’s fighting very un-Santa-like thoughts of kissing a certain sexy Miss Elf under the mistletoe. As Nick starts to fall for Lyssa all over again, he knows it will take nothing short of a miracle to have Lyssa in his arms on Christmas Day.

Excerpt:

Lyssa plopped the large bowl of popcorn in the middle of the coffee table and distributed the thread and needles she had found in the linen closet upstairs. At this rate, she would have to make a list of items to replace for Amber.

Mollie and Tommy went to work enthusiastically, and even Brent pitched in without a word of complaint. It was watching Nick, though, that made her heart melt. Making Christmas decorations might not have been his “thing,” but he definitely had some skill at working with kids.

He helped Tommy thread a needle, guiding the little boy’s hand until he had slipped the thread through the needle’s eye. Flushed by his success, Tommy proudly insisted upon threading everyone’s needle himself.

When Mollie groaned in frustration after trying to add a half-dozen kernels to her thread, Nick showed her how to pierce the thickest part of the popped corn to prevent it from breaking.

And when it came time to drape the strands on the tree, he asked Brent’s opinion as to the best placement. She had never heard the quiet teen talk and laugh as much as he had in this short time.

She could so easily see Nick with children of his own…and hers… But she had already decided there was no point in dreaming about a future with him. Considering his single-minded focus on work, he could never be the man for her.

She got to her feet and, forcing a smile, said, “I think it’s time for some hot chocolate.”

Four voices rose in agreement, and she escaped gratefully to the kitchen. The more she saw of Nick connecting with the kids, the harder it was for her to watch and the more she wanted to stay away. Yet she knew this trip to the kitchen was only a temporary reprieve.

She just hadn’t realized how temporary.

She had barely started heating the milk in a pan on the stove when Nick entered the kitchen. He came to lean against the counter beside her. “Need something?” she asked brightly.

“Yeah. To tell you I forgot how much fun it is being around you. It’s been a great afternoon.”

She flushed. “No thanks to me. That’s all on the kids. They’re quite a bunch.”

“And you’re quite a woman.”

“No, I’m—”

He reached up and touched his finger to her lips. “Don’t do that, Lyssa. Don’t sell yourself short.” He moved his hand to trace her chin. A shiver tickled along her jaw. “You know what else I need?”

“Hot chocolate?”

“That, too. And this.”

He leaned down and brushed his mouth against hers. He tasted so like the man she had fallen for months ago. His kiss was so tender, so sweet, she couldn’t help but want more.

Another thought hovered at the edges of her mind, a thought she felt sure she didn’t want to know. Not now. Not here. Not when his taste and his touch and his total concentration on her were all exactly what sheneeded.

Book Links:
Amazon:  http://bit.ly/swmw-amz
Amazon Canada:  http://bit.ly/swmw-ca
Barnes & Noble:  http://bit.ly/swmw-bn
Entangled Publishing:  http://bit.ly/swmw-pg
iBooks:  http://bit.ly/swmw-ibooks
Kobo:  http://bit.ly/swmw-kobo

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.

And don’t forget to check out Snowbound with Mr. Wrong, sale-priced at $.99 during November!

Social Media Links:
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Amazon author page  http://www.amazon.com/Barbara-White-Daille/e/B002J6B0QQ
BookBub:  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/barbara-white-daille
Entangled author page  http://entangledpublishing.com/category/barbara-white-daille/
Harlequin author page  https://www.harlequin.com/shop/authors/23759_barbara-white-daille.html

One in three women and one in four men in the U.S.have experienced some form of physical violence by an intimate partner. Seventy-four percent of people in America personally know someone who’s a domestic abuse victim. If you’re into numbers like Gillian, the main character in Becker Circle, that’s more than 9.5 times the population of Texas. Wow.

Fewer people seek help from domestic situations around the holidays. The experts suspect people want to enjoy the holidays so they try to get through it the best they can. After New Year’s Day, hotline calls and shelter walk-in visits increase as people seek to start a new life.

The good news is we always have a way out. In Becker Circle, Gillian orchestrated a scheme to graduate Harvard early and move out of the apartment she shared with her abusive boyfriend while he was away for the holidays. She didn’t care where she ended up as long as she had a job waiting for her, and it was far away from Boston. She brought with her an old car, enough money for the apartment deposit, and a fierce will to be strong, independent, and never let anyone control her again. Help from her best friend, quiet moments connecting with her deceased mom, and her own inner strength and determination helped Gillian successfully escape to her new beginning.

Fresh starts almost always come with doubts, but those doubts are rarely worse than what already happened. Like Gillian, we’re never alone. There’s always help from friends, family and co-workers, local police, and organizations like Hope’s Door New Beginning Center.

Here’s a scene from Becker Circle about how Gillian grows stronger in her fresh start.

 

“That’s what I hear.” I pour another round of shots. “Be right back. Just going to deliver these.”

On my return, I run into Bradweiser coming from the bathroom. “Give me a hug.” He opens his arms and squeezes me. It’s uncomfortable. When he loosens his grip, he slides around where his arm wraps around my throat. Tight.

I gasp for breath and my tray crashes to the wood floor breaking the somber near silence.

Everything rushes back. The night Connor left huge bruises on my neck then dragged me across the floor by my hair. All because I wasn’t ready to get engaged.

This time I’m not afraid. I’m ready to fight. Feet firm on the ground I wrap one leg behind Brad and slam my knee into the back of his. His knee bends and I twist out of his tight hold.

“What the hell are you doing?” I pick the tray up off the floor and step back to a safe distance, my heart still racing.

“I’m sorry,” he begs. “I’m so sorry, Gillian. I just wanted to hug you.”

“Gillian, are you hurt?” Steve asks, stepping between us with Joey right behind him.

“I’ll make it up to you. The best restaurant in town. Sunday?”

I don’t care how much Brad’s sleepy eyes beg, it’s not happening. “I don’t think so, Brad.”

“Brad, time to go home.” Steve leads him to the door. “I’ll close out your tab.”

 Rule seven of my new life—violence is a deal breaker. No exceptions.

About the Author

Addison Brae lives in Dallas, Texas on the edge of downtown. She has been writing since childhood and continues today as an independent marketing consultant. She addicted to reading and enjoys jogging in her neighborhood park, sipping red wine, traveling the world, collecting interesting cocktail recipes, binge-watching TV series, vintage clothing, and hanging out with her artistic other half and their neurotic cat Lucy.

Connect with Addison Brae on her website, Tirgearr Publishing, Twitter, Facebook,Instagram, or YouTube.

Buy links:  Amazon US, Amazon UK, Smashwords, iTunes,Kobo, B&N Nook