Stealing Hearts – Meet Rachel Shane

Welcome Rachel Shane. It is my pleasure to bring you this wonderful author, a fellow contributor to our Sultry Nights Collection, due in August. Today Rachel is sharing an excerpt from another collection. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Take it away , Rachel.

I’m excited to share with you an excerpt from my story, STEALING HEARTS, which is exclusively part of the FORBIDDEN Romance Anthology. This one was super fun to write! I loved getting into the mind of a con artist and the sexy billionaire who trips up her usually flawless con jobs. I hope you enjoy!

Stealing Hearts

Stealing Hearts

She sets out to steal from him, but he might just steal her heart instead.

Liliana Stratford dons a new alias and a short skirt in order to pull off her biggest con job to date: exacting revenge on billionaire bachelor Colby Carver. He’s the jerk who purchased her precious family heirloom for mysterious reasons at an auction after her deadbeat mother pawned it off. Without the funds to buy it back, she decides her best course of action is to infiltrate Colby’s life, find the brooch, and swipe it out from under him the same way he unknowingly did it her.

A personal chef’s job for Colby provides Liliana with exactly the right opportunity to snoop behind his back. As she grows closer to finding the brooch, she also grows closer to Colby himself, bonding with him despite her conscience telling her what a bad idea this is. The chemistry between them crackles and soon she finds exactly what she wasn’t looking for: love. But how can she fall for him when she’s planning to rob him blind?


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Excerpt from Stealing Hearts

It’s time to get revenge on Colby Carver for a crime he doesn’t even know he committed against me. I don my shortest skirt, fluff my newly dyed blond waves, and spruce up my cleavage by adjusting my push up bra. A swipe of my shiniest gloss makes my lips glisten like the diamonds I plan to steal. I take one last look in the scuffed mirror and give myself a satisfied nod despite the dim lighting in this shitty motel. He won’t recognize me like this. It’s the perfect disguise.

I fly to my laptop and curse under my breath as it lags and wheezes in an attempt to connect to the crappy Wi-Fi. I’m stuck in this shit hole until I get what I traveled over three hours from backwoods Florida to luscious Miami for. The Craigslist ad for a Personal Chef pops up and I jot down the address, ignoring the part that says to call to set up an interview. I can’t put my fate in the hands of an anonymous phone screener. In person, I can disarm Colby with all the charms.

I head twenty minutes in the wrong direction to a gourmet market with a five star Yelp rating and prices that make me want to gouge my eyes out. Wooden walls and dim lighting give the place an authentic rustic vibe. The forty dollars weighing down my purse has to last me through the next few days. I bite my lip and inhale the heavenly aroma of peppery basil, crisp maple bacon, and grilled salmon fresh from the ocean. My stomach grumbles at the very sight of the food I won’t get to eat.

Still, I load up separate environment-friendly cardboard containers with perfectly grilled lamb chops doused in mango chutney. Char marks create a crisscross pattern on the mouth-watering meat. Truffle risotto fills the second container, releasing a scent so intoxicating, it takes all my will power not to dip my finger in and slurp down an expensive bite. Colorful yellow and red tomatoes roll on top of crisp arugula greens sprinkled with a light citrus vinaigrette. I top it all off with a decadent slice of chocolate cake dripping in gooey caramel drizzle.

She sets out to steal from him, but he might just steal her heart instead. Stealing Hearts by… Click To Tweet

I wait off to the side, balancing the heavy tray in my arms. Men and women jostle me for prime access to the self-serve bar. Women carrying gourmet salads stream onto the check out line, but I hold out until I spy a group of men in business suits moseying toward it. With a hustle in my step, I time my approach perfectly, reaching the line entrance at exactly the same time as them.

One of the guys flourishes his hand toward me like a gentleman and I give him a polite smile in thanks. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice all three eyeing me from top to bottom. Thank you, short skirt.

“Sixty-eight dollars and seventy-seven cents,” the cashier says, already reaching for the next guy’s items.

“Wait what?” I blink in mock horror. “I’ve only got a twenty.”

The cashier gives me a look that clearly says she doesn’t give a shit.

Beneath the counter, I dig my nails into my palms until fat tears well in my eyes. “This is so embarrassing.” I cover my mouth and heave a little sob.

The guy behind me leans over with his credit card. “Don’t worry, I got it.” He gives me a wink.

“Oh my Gosh! Thank you!” I leap forward and wrap him in a hug, making sure to press my breasts against his chest in thanks. I grab my bag and strut out of there with my forty dollars in tact.

As soon as I reach my car, I get to work transferring the beautifully arranged food into Tupperware containers and sliding them into a picnic basket. I top off the presentation with a blue ribbon tied around everything, and then I hit the gas and drive all the way to the mansions at beachfront Miami.

I park just outside the sprawling carnation colored Mediterranean Revival style home with art deco sensibilities. It’s exactly the kind of outlandish thing I’ve been dreaming of one day owning myself, outright and legit, instead of stolen out from under someone. The breeze carries the scent of salt from the ocean and kicks my hair up in a wild snarl of blond. The light colored strands still startle me whenever they cross my vision, and my stomach clenches with lament for my signature dark locks. But my reward for a job well done will be a reunion with my old appearance.

I press my finger to the doorbell and as soon as I do, my limbs start to twitch. I pace back and forth on the concrete front porch, trying to wear it off. There’s more riding on this con than any of the small time jobs I’ve pulled in the past.

The clicking of my heels works to combat the sound of heavy stomps heading to the doorway from inside. A shadow covers the peephole before the door swings open. Sweltering heat beats down on my bare shoulders, but the sweat slicking my brow stems from something deep inside me.

Colby stands there in low-slung jeans and a casual white t-shirt that does nothing to conceal the six-pack abs hiding beneath. His smoldering blue eyes search me, sliding down my throat, past my low cut cleavage, and lingering on the picnic basket secured strategically in front of my hips before he jerks his face back up. He pins with me a gaze so intense, so thoroughly invasive, that I sputter out a breath.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

For a moment, I can only stare at him, struck numb by the piercing eyes, chiseled jaw, and luscious locks that landed him at number two on the list of Miami’s hottest billionaire bachelors. The last and only time I saw him—when he unknowingly swiped the metaphoric tablecloth out from under me and knocked my entire life off balance—I hadn’t gotten close enough to take in that delicious smile hiding behind his pursed lips. It takes concentrated effort to force myself to swallow and remember that I’m supposed to be charming him, not the other way around.

I shake my head slightly to knock myself out of my daze and pop on my signature smile that tends to lure guys right where I need them to be: vulnerable.

“Hi!” I grab his hand from where it clutches the door, forcing him into an energetic handshake that clearly catches him off guard by the way he stumbles toward me. “I’m Liliana and I’m here to interview for the Personal Chef position.”

Colby clears his throat and casually slides his hand out from mine. “I’m sorry, but I’m already in the middle of an interview.” He pulls the door open a little more, giving me a front row seat of the dark hardwood floors that lead up to chic mid-century modern gray couches in his sitting room, and a guy wearing a chef’s coat shifting his weight uncomfortably on the tweed cushions. “You’re supposed to call first.”

Farther in the background, a woman with a severe bun sings quietly to herself in Spanish as she dusts the handsome dark wood end table that blocks the rest of the house from view.

“I did call.” I inject my words with pep and cheer to cover the way my voice cracks on the lie. “I spoke with a woman.” I switch the fluent Spanish to tell him the woman said to come by this afternoon for the interview.

Colby glances behind him and curses under his breath. He clearly did not understand a word I said judging by his knitted brows, but got my implied meaning: his employee made a promise he now has to keep.

The heavy basket makes my arms start to shake. I struggle to lift it up for him to see, grunting in the process. “Any place I can set this down?”

Colby rakes his hands through his hemp-colored hair, shifting the locks back to a side part, and presses his lips together. “One second.” He shuts the door just a bit, but it’s enough for me to hear hushed whispers and annoyed grunt from the guy in the chef’s coat.

A second later the guy in the chef’s coat storms past me, shooting me with a middle finger in the process.

“Sorry about that. That guy wasn’t working out anyway.” Colby leads me inside, giving me a perfect view of his sculpted ass as I follow him into the sitting room the rejectee just vacated.

He settles onto a couch but I immediately head down the hall until I find the dining room, my eyes memorizing every end table and closed door I pass. I set my picnic basket on the reclaimed wooden table and start removing the Tupperware plus the elegant Lenox bone china dishes I picked up at an Estate Sale last week for two bucks a pop. With equally ornate bargain serving ware, I gracefully scoop the food out of the Tupperware and transfer them to the plates before I lovingly wipe up excess with a dishtowel. After I set out a cloth napkin and ornate flatware, I flourish my hand toward the place setting. When I glance up, I notice he’s been leaning against the wall, watching me with a glint of interest.

A nervous flutter warms my belly.

He saunters over to me and takes a seat in front of the feast.

I stand up straighter. “Today I’ve prepared for you a gourmet lunch consisting of braised lamb chops seared on a grill with a spread of mango chutney and truffle risotto. The sweetness of the mango compliments the smokiness of the lamb.” I wave my hand over the first dish. Ten hours of watching the Food Network was all the prep I needed to speak like a sophisticated culinary expert. “For a lighter option, I present to you an array of vine ripened tomatoes atop a bed of wilted arugula and finished with a citrus vinaigrette that balances the tartness of the vegetables with a delightful spring pop.” I inch closer to him until he’s forced to glance up at me. “And lastly, no meal is complete without something sweet to finish it off.” I wave my hand toward the slice of cake as my toes bump against his socked feet. I lower my voice to sultry levels. “Indulge in a slice of cake made from chocolate imported directly from Paris and finished with homemade caramel sauce.” No clue where the chocolate comes from but Paris sounds decadent.

He sniffs the air. “God, it all smells amazing.”

I wink at him, knowing the only thing he can likely smell with me standing so close is my flowery perfume. “Tastes that way too.” I hope…

Colby grabs a fork and a knife and carves into the lamb chop, slicing off a piece of perfectly cooked meat. He twirls the fork in the air, admiring the way the juices run down onto the plate.

My chest stills. I don’t dare even swallow as he brings the fork to his mouth.

Before he takes a bite, his hand freezes. He presses his lips together, turning the fork over skeptically, before he sets it back down on the plate.

Panic climbs my spine and I nudge the plate closer to him. “I assure you, it’s delicious.”

“I’m sure it is.” He leans back in the chair. “But it wouldn’t be fair to the other candidates.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. This guy has a conscience?

“Can you make me scrambled eggs instead?”

“But—“ I open my mouth to speak but then clamp it shut again. My pulse amps. “I just spent all morning cooking you—“

“For all I know, you could have walked into a store and purchased this. I need to see you in action. Scrambled eggs are a simple dish but everyone has their own technique. I want to see yours.”

My technique usually involves going to brunch and ordering some. I grit my teeth. “No problem.”


Meet Rachel

Rachel Shane is the author of several romance books, young adult books, and a non-fiction writing guide. She’s been a computer animator, an e-book creator for a major NY publisher, and now she works as a Project Manager for a software company where she enjoys telling people what to do. She lives in NJ with her husband, young daughter, and a basement full of books.

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“The Baron’s Cufflinks” by P.J. MacLayne

Today it is my pleasure to present to you P.J. MacLayne and her latest book, The Baron’s Cufflinks. Come learn a bit about P.J. and step inside her latest work, which she describes as a “cozy mystery (with a touch of romance)”

Discover P.J.

Baron's CufflinksWhere is your favorite place to write? There’s a lake halfway between Walden and Cowdrey, Colorado. I don’t expect anyone has heard of them. They’re in the high plains between several mountain ranges, north of the Rocky Mountain National Park. There’s a ranch across from the small public area on one side of the lake, and nothing between the lake and the mountains but cows and prairie. On a good day you can see the mountains reflected in the lake and listed to the yellow-headed blackbirds that nest in the bushes along the shoreline. Normally, there might be only two or three other vehicles there, people out in canoes fishing. What a great place to write.

What inspires me as an author? I like watching people. In stores, in restaurants, where I work. I like overhearing bits and pieces of their conversations and filling in the blanks. Despite all the flaws we have as humans, I still think most of us are basically good. I try to make the characters in my books reflect that.

Why do you write romance and what is your genre of romance? Romance is what we are looking for. We may define it in different ways, but I believe each of us is looking for our happily ever after. It’s comforting to read romance and hope for our own if we haven’t found it already.

My line is that I write action with a touch of romance. But the underlying romance, in both my urban fantasies and my mysteries, is what ties the stories together.

What are you working own next and when can we expect to see it? I’ve got two projects. One is a short story for a compilation with nine other authors. The other is the next book in my Free Wolves series, Wolves’ Gambit.  They should both be available around Christmas.

Meet @pjmaclayne & 'The Baron's Cufflinks', a cozy mystery (with a touch of romance) Click To Tweet

The Baron’s Cufflinks

The Baron’s Cufflinks is the third book in the Oak Grove Mysteries, and Harmony Duprie is up to her usual antics.


What starts as Girl’s Night Out ends in murder, and Harmony Duprie is a suspect.

She’s innocent, of course, but with no alibi, the sheriff’s department won’t remove her from the list of suspects. It doesn’t help when a waitress from the bar gets beaten up and the only clue is a slip of paper with Harmony’s name on it. Throw in a rookie deputy dead set on building his reputation and Harmony must tread carefully.

But caution isn’t Harmony’s middle name and she plunges head first into danger to defend her honor.

What she finds is a web of half-truths and suspicions implicating several law enforcement agencies, with Jake, her ex-lover, stuck in the middle of it all.

Can Harmony rescue Jake and find the real culprit before she becomes the next victim?

Excerpt from The Baron’s Cufflinks

It didn’t take long for a warm body to slide into the barstool next to me. The middle-aged man with a bad comb-over hairdo and bulging stomach wasn’t my type at all. But Tiffini would talk to him.

“How’s it going, Sugar?” he said. “Buy you a drink?” He’d already had several drinks based on the smell of liquor on his breath.

I smiled and waved my beer bottle in front of his face. “Thanks! How about the next round?”

He waved to get the bartender’s attention and pointed to me. “Another of those for the lady.”

I wouldn’t be drinking it, but I didn’t stop him.

“What’s your name, Sugar?” he asked.

God help me, I giggled. “Sugar will do fine for now. What’s your name?”

“Dave.” He took a swig of whatever poison he was drinking. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

He looked like a Dave. His wife—yes, he was wearing a wedding ring—probably called him David when she was mad at him. “I’m new in town,” I said. And giggled again. “Thought I’d get out and make some friends.”

Dave grinned widely. At least he had a full set of teeth. “Why don’t you come over and join me and my buds?”

I glanced over towards the table he indicated. The three men looked like clones of Dave. None of them appeared to be dangerous. It would likely be a waste of my time, but I picked up my beer and slid off the barstool. “Sure.”

He grabbed my second beer and his own drink and we made our way across the room.  One of them grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table. “Sugar, meet the guys. That’s Bill, Harry, and Lamar.”

They could have been Mo, Larry, and Curly for all I cared, but I grinned as I settled into one of the empty chairs. “Nice to meet you.”

“Sugar’s new around here,” Dave announced. “So, I volunteered us to make her feel welcome.”

I fluttered my fake eyelashes and giggled. “Sure is nice of y’all to let me join you.”

I did my best impression of Tiffini flirting with all four of the men and discovered, to my surprise, they were actually fun to talk to. I think they were surprised at my knowledge of Steeler’s football, and that made Tiffini more of a friend than a target. The chair they’d given me had a view of the front door, and as was my habit, I’d been keeping an eye on it. It had opened and closed many times, but this time was different.

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P.J.’s Bio

Baron's CufflinksBorn and raised among the rolling hills of western Pennsylvania, P.J. MacLayne still finds inspiration for her books in that landscape. She is a computer geek by day and a writer by night who currently lives in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains. When she’s not in front of a computer screen, she might be found exploring the back roads of the nearby national forests and parks. In addition to the Oak Grove Mysteries, she is also the author of The Free Wolves series.

P.J. MacLayne can be reached on:

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Billionaire’s Private Scandal – Meet Jenna Bayley Burke

This week you are in for a real treat. I am hosting Jenna Bayley Burke, romance author of the Invested in Love Series. Jenna is juggling a new release, The Billionaire’s Private Scandal, a promotion, and giveaway – yes, giveaway – with all her other obligations. And she has plenty. Just read about her at the bottom of this post to learn more about Jenna. Meanwhile, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Jenna, one of the 21 other authors that will be joining me in our 99 cent romance extravaganza later this summer. I will be including Bedeviled in the collection. Jenna will be including Big Ben is in HSN.  Watch for more about that too! Take it away, Jenna.

Meet Jenna and The Billionaire’s Private Scandal

Thanks for inviting me over this week. Things are crazy busy in the land of Jenna – a new release & 99c sale on my best selling book. I have Dory on repeat in my mind – just keep swimming, just keep swimming.

My Indulgence series, Invested in Love, follows a group of successful men who were selected by their college professor to join an exclusive investment club. They’ve made millions together, as well as in their own careers. They have it all… except love.

On Monday we released The Billionaire’s Private Scandal, a second chance romance of secret lovers ripped apart by betrayal. The bankrupt heiress, the corporate raider, and a deal so deceptive the wall of civility crumbles.

The Billionaire's Private ScandalThe Billionaire’s Private Scandal

by Jenna Bayley-Burke

Series: Invested in Love, 3

Megan Carlton’s secret affair with financier Brandon Knight ended when he pulled off a hostile takeover of her family’s hotel empire and then kissed another woman. Broke and alone, Megan starts a new life and learns to stand on her own, then Brandon finds her serving coffee and surviving on tips and tries to pull her back into her old life and his arms. She thought she was over him, and she certainly can’t ever trust him again. But what her head knows and her heart feels are two different things.

Brandon was used to always getting what he wanted, then the woman he loves disappeared without a word. When he finds her months later working as a barista, he wonders if she’s suffering from amnesia. Getting a scalding Americano to the chest proves she recognizes him, but she’s got the situation—and him—all wrong. Now all he has to do is prove it.

This week only, Compromising Positions is on sale for just 99c. It opened the series and is my best-selling book to date. There’s something magical about David & Sophie and the way they come together. Oh sheesh, not like that. Well, like that. Going to stop digging this hole now.

Relentless billionaire   

Determined heroine   
Indulgently sexy romance 


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The Billionaire's Private ScandalNew Release Giveaway

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It’s a big week in the land of Jenna. A new release in the Invested in Love series, a 99c sale & 3 different giveaways : ✔ New release –…

About The Author

By day, Jenna is faster than a speeding toddler, stronger than a stubborn husband, able to leap tall Lego structures in a single bound…but by night, while the family sleeps she writes romance novels where no one ever has to scoop up after the dog, change diapers, clip coupons, drive carpool, do laundry, mop floors, get silly putty out of hair, vacuum, empty the vacuum bag (gross!), exercise, count calories, apply bandaids, clean up puke…wait where was this going? Oh, Jenna writes romance because it is glamorous. Just ask the dog.

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Is a Break from Romance worth the Gamble?

gamble on romance

I should be feeling guilty right now. Here I am, gambling and losing my money in a casino – have I mentioned that I love to gamble– and not sitting and writing. Well, okay, at this very moment I am writing, but I will hit the tables or slots as soon as I finish this post.

There are a few things I like to turn to when should be writing but need an escape. Gambling is one of them. I love the idea of winning, and allow it to outweigh my fear of losing. It probably shouldn’t, with my track record, but hope springs eternal.

I love going to the movies, or watching movies on TV. I can sit all day avoiding my latest novel while avidly gazing at the boob tube, usually engrossed in the predictable new Hallmark movie or worse, the one I have seen so many times that I know every line. Much as I love them, even on first viewing it doesn’t take much to guess what’s going to happen.

Another thing I love to do rather than write is listen to music and dance around my living room. I can’t hold a candle to Tom Cruise in “Risky Business,” and currently there are construction workers outside my windows, so I wear more clothes.

But today, sitting in the lounge of the casino, I realized that the movies, the hope of winning, and the music are all about romance. I am listening to tunes from the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s when songs were all about love. Right now, Madonna is belting “Borderline” but moments ago I was singing along to “Bus Stop” by The Hollies.

Romance is a Gamble

We all want that happy ending, be it in a song, at the gaming tables, in a movie or of course, in a novel. We all want to believe that love conquers all, that we will find that winning hand, that perfect mate, that we will ride into the sunset of our happily ever after.

My job as a romance writer is to provide that happily ever after for you. Love is more complicated in today’s music, movies have grown into franchises with increasingly complex situations, and while you, as a reader, still have an expectation that all will end well, you now expect characters to be more three dimensional. You expect them to struggle with juggling career and family, money problems, complicated family situations. In short, you expect them to find love, but not without jumping some hurdles.

I am struggling with the hurdle of completing my final “Beguiling Bachelor” book, while meeting your expectations for character growth and a compelling story. But I know although the casino will be open all night and all day tomorrow, my novel “Besotted” awaits and won’t write itself.

I am gambling that a day off here and there to regroup, to listen to love songs and get inspiration from romance novels and movies, will help me be a better author. Losing at the tables will remind me to add twists and turns before I get to happily ever after. The simple lyrics of long ago remind me that today’s music is often darker and tackles difficult themes. Today love is everywhere, but cannot be gambled on.

So it is with my novel. I cannot take it for granted, or you, my wonderful readers. Tomorrow, it is back to work with a fresh perspective and renewed dedication. I thank you for indulging me now and then, when I I play hooky. We all need refueling, and Stevie Wonder and the promise of a royal flush are filing my tank today.

Keep your fingers crossed, I could use a win.

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Get Hot and Filthy with Whitley Cox #authorlove


Hot and FilthyIt is my pleasure to introduce you to Hot and Filthy and Whitley Cox, the first of the authors who will be a guest blogger Thursday’s in July. Whitley and I are just two of the 22 authors in our 99 cent anthology coming in August. Here you can get a first peek at Hot and Filthy, Book 4.5 of Whitley’s exciting “Dark and Damaged Heart” series. Not for the faint of heart, Whitley knows how to spice things up – with humor, with hot sex and wonderful romance.

Hot and Filthy

Book 4.5 of The Dark and Damaged Hearts Series

Available June 29th

Hot and Filthy








Emma Everly didn’t know true love or happiness until she met enigmatic millionaire James Shaw. He turned her world upside down, all for the better, possessing her heart, body, and soul. He brought her over to the dark and dirty side and opened her eyes to the wild and kinky sex Emma didn’t even know she craved.

Now they’re married and ready to start their life together, and Emma realizes all her dreams are coming true. With a romantic honeymoon planned on a live-aboard boat in French Polynesia with nothing but her handsome husband and the fishes, Emma is positive James will take her body to newer and more extreme heights of pleasure. But James has other ideas, and even in the middle of their sexy sea adventure, their relationship is put to the test. Emma must find a way to come to terms with James’ demands or risk ruining their first holiday as husband and wife.

A quick and funny story with nothing but sex, scuba diving, and newlywed bickering. Because these two deserve a chill honeymoon. As I’ve started telling people, it’s nothing but pure filth with the odd parrot fish sighting. Don’t expect the darkness and angst of the other books; this little story is meant to be light, fun, super dirty and give you all the happy feels.

***Warning! This book and this excerpt contain scenes with explicit sexual content, vulgar language and BDSM play***

Excerpt from

Hot and Filthy“Well, Mrs. Shaw … God, I’m never going to grow tired of calling you that, you know that, right?” James growled, pulling me onto his lap in the back of the limo.

He nuzzled my neck while his hand made its way up my shirt, and he started pulling on the cup of my bra. I squeaked and squirmed when he tweaked the hard and achy bud, loving the bite of pain and the zing of need it sent to my core.

“Shall we consummate the marriage here and now? Or can you wait until we board the jet?”

I chuckled low and let my hand drift to the front of his shorts, unzipping him and worming my fingers in until I felt the hard column of flesh I just couldn’t get enough of.

“It’s not that long of a drive to the airport,” I purred. “And I certainly hope the consummation will take more than five minutes. So …” I dropped to my knees. “Let’s just do this until we get to the jet, where there is a big, beautiful bed, and you can fuck your new wife properly.” And then I pulled down his shorts, dipped my head low and took him into my mouth.

His fingers found their way into my hair, and he pulled on my scalp, setting the pace he wanted, hard and fast, just like our love. I’d loved this man almost instantly, craved him from our first kiss. He was my addiction, and I hungered for him constantly. There was no rehab or detox program in the world that could kick me of my James habit, not that I wanted one. The man was my everything, and now, finally, after almost two and a half years together, he was my husband. We’d been through hell and back both on our own and together. Fought past demons and weathered storms no couple or person should ever have to face. He’d torn down his walls for me. Let me inside, revealed his true self and the heavy weight and guilt he carried around on those impossibly broad shoulders of his. But now that guilt, those problems weren’t just his. We were in this together and even though I knew James would never truly forgive himself or let go entirely of his haunting past, at least now I could help carry the weight. Relieve him of the burden just a bit, and be there to rub out the knots and tired muscles at the end of the day.

“God, Emma … that fucking mouth …” he groaned, bucking his hips up off the leather of the seat. “Yes, you filthy girl. Suck it hard.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I took him to the back of my throat, my fist rhythmically pumping him root to tip; I loved the effect I had on him, loved how easily I could bring him to his knees while I pleasured him on mine. He was a bossy fucker, incapable of submitting, but when he was in my mouth, he was completely at my mercy. I could ask him for anything, and he’d never say “no.” Not that I asked for much, and not that he’d ever denied me. But when I was on my knees, the man was under my spell, and I was in control as much as he liked to think he was.

I flattened out my tongue and grazed the entire surface area up his shaft, feeling the thick roping veins and the silky, soft crown. He was perfect. Designed by the gods. Tall and muscular with a strong, chiseled jaw and dark, luscious, wavy hair that tumbled just over his forehead and ears. Not too long and unruly, but just roguish enough. I loved nothing more than burying my fingers in it, and pulling on the ends, especially when his head was bobbing up and down between my legs.

I snaked my other hand beneath him and cupped his balls, gently pulling and rolling them in my palm until I earned that extra moan I coveted, the moan that told me he loved it and he wanted more. The moan that told me he was getting close, barely holding on, pacing that narrow edge and about to tip over.

hot and filthy whitley coxHis cadence picked up, and he started to jerk on my head, really forcing me down hard onto his cock, until it knocked my tonsils and I fought to suppress my gag reflex. And fuck if I didn’t love it. I loved that I could drive him wild.

I sucked hard on the crown when I brought him back to my lips, flicking the tip, the small hole at the top with my tongue, wedging it in just enough to earn another moan, before I plunged him back to my throat again. In and out I fucked him with my mouth until his rhythm started to falter and I knew he was close.

I swallowed when he bottomed out in my throat again, knowing that the contraction of my muscles might just kick him over the cliff. I pulled down slightly on his balls with my one hand, and down on his shaft with the other, hummed slightly and deep throated as much as I could, swallowing again. And damn if that didn’t do the trick.

He snarled above me as his fingers loosened their death grip in my hair, his cock pulsing inside my mouth, filling me with his warm, salty semen. I swallowed again, letting it flow across my tongue and down my throat, reveling in his canticle of pleasure.

I licked him clean and then gently tucked him back into his shorts, taking great care not to snag him in his zipper. Then big, strong hands came up under my arms, and I was hauled off the floor and thrown onto my back on the cool leather. Growling low and deep in his throat, he pinned me beneath him, his mouth capturing mine.

He groaned against my lips as his fingers found a nipple again. “Oh, Mrs. Shaw. I’m not sure I can wait until the plane to fuck you.”

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 Heat and Hunger: Part 1

Sex, Heat and Hunger: Part 2

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Hot and Filthy

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About Whitley Cox

A West Coast baby born and raised, Whitley is married to her high school sweetheart and together they have a spirited toddler and a fluffy dog. She spends her days making food that gets thrown on the floor, vacuuming Cheerios out from under the couch and making sure that the dog food doesn’t end up in the air conditioner. But when nap time comes, and it’s not quite wine o’clock, Whitley sits down, avoids the pile of laundry on the couch, and writes.

A lover of all things decadent; wine, cheese, chocolate and spicy erotic romance, Whitley brings the humorous side of sex, the ridiculous side of relationships and the suspense of everyday life into her stories. With mommy wars, body issues, threesomes, bondage and role playing, these books have everything we need to satisfy the curious kink in all of us.  

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Take “A Journey Home” with Angela Scavone

It somehow seems appropriate to present Angela Scavone’s military romance A Journey Home on this July 4th despite her Canadian residence.  Happy independence day to all, and enjoy reading Angela’s contemporary romance.

A Journey Home by Angela ScavoneA Journey Home

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Content Warning: Some explicit language


An air force captain charged with bringing home deceased soldiers from overseas is forced to partner with her cheating ex-husband. @busterwhyte #romance #militaryromance


Stephanie Tyler’s sole job is to fly overseas to war torn areas of the world to retrieve and escort the bodies of fallen soldiers back home to the United States. It is a tough and emotional job but she is honored for the privilege. Her duty also helps her to escape her past and her failed marriage.

But those flights have become increasingly more dangerous and she is forced to have a partner accompany her. Much to Stephanie’s surprise and dismay, she is partnered up with her ex-husband, Captain “D.A.” Douglas Aston.

From the moment Captain D.A. enters the scene, he irritates her. It could have something to do with the fact he slept with her best friend while they were married. As they go on several missions together, Stephanie is forced to be courteous and professional with D.A. even though the very sight of him irritates her beyond comprehension.

Then, Stephanie’s cheating, husband stealing, ex-best friend is killed in Afghanistan and Stephanie and D.A. must escort her body home. While executing this difficult duty, a myriad of conflicting emotions makes Stephanie ponder how short life really is . . . and to question her own ability to forgive.


To the female eye, he was a very attractive man. He stood at six-four and was well built, but not so much that muscles and tendons were popping out everywhere. He had a strong jaw and black hair just long enough to run your fingers through. Dressed in full uniform, his handsome features were even more prominent.

Not that I noticed.

“Please come in and we can discuss your new role.”

“Yes, Sir.” Captain DA put out his hand for me to shake, flashing his killer smile that started in his bright blue eyes and ended in a set of mouth-framing dimples. “Good to see you again, Captain.”

I returned his smile and handshake, determined to be professional in front of the Colonel even if it killed me.

I remained on my feet which kept both men standing. “Sir, with all due respect,” I began, facing the Colonel, “I cannot work with Captain Aston.” Apparently, my mouth wasn’t on board with being professional.

“Why not?” DA asked, sounding offended.

I ignored his question and kept my attention on the Colonel, who looked as if he were about to laugh. “We used to be married.”

“I know that.” He smiled.

“Our marriage did not end on a positive note,” I continued, “and I don’t think I can work with him on a day to day basis. In fact, I left Virginia to get away from him.”

“You know, I’m standing right here,” DA chimed in.

The Colonel spoke. “How did your marriage not continue on a positive note? I remember the wedding. You two seemed so in love. What happened?”

DA and I looked at each other for the first time since his arrival.

“He cheated on me with a friend of mine,” I replied baldly.

“I did not cheat on you! How many times do I have to say it before you believe me?” he retorted, all vestiges of professionalism gone.

“Oh, here we go again!” I shouted back. “I came home early, I walked into the kitchen and there was Alex on top of you on the kitchen floor.”

“I told you it wasn’t what it looked like. I have said over and over again that I did not sleep with Alex!” His tone increased until he was shouting, too.

“Ahem.” The Colonel cut in. I jerked back, startled; in the heat of arguing with my frustrating ex,

I had forgotten my boss was there.

“Sorry, Sir. Do you see why I can’t work with him?”

The Colonel regarded us both. “Alex?” he questioned DA.

“Alexandra Keating, Sir. She was Stephanie’s best friend.”

“Best friend, my left toe! She’s a traitorous, backstabbing, two-faced, lying, husband stealing bitch.”

“Wow, that’s quite descriptive, Captain. Why don’t you tell us your true feelings about her?” Both of the Colonel’s eyebrows rose in shock.

“I’m only speaking the truth, Sir.” I addressed the Colonel but glared at DA.


Buy Links for A Journey Home 


Meet Angela

Angela lives in Ontario, Canada sharing her home with her father and much-loved pups.  She currently works for the Board of Education behind the scenes supporting and analyzing student data, however, in her spare time, apart from her avid love of storytelling, she likes to read, spend time with family and friends and concoct dairy free recipes from scratch. Sometimes she wins some and sometimes she loses – tofu, banana and peanut butter pudding we are looking at you.

You’ll always be able to find her on her Facebook or Twitter pages.

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The Heat is Almost Here! Can you Feel it?

feel the heatThere are two things I have always loved – a great read and a bargain. Okay three – let’s not forget chocolate. When I was younger, I hounded used bookstores, trading a bag of books I’d read for a stack of new possibilities or as the daughter of a librarian, I borrowed a number of romances from the local library. Once married to the son of two authors, I made sure to buy several new books too.

Back in the olden days

All of this was before ebooks, before Amazon and others delivered something to tickle my fancy day or night. I would stockpile books. It was my version of the boxed set, I guess. I would purchase books in series by the same author or books of similar genres. I might read everything in stock by Amanda Quick,or select other historic romances. Maybe I would assemble a dozen books that clearly fit the bodice-ripping category. I built my stash and worked my way from the top of the pile to the bottom in record time. I know plenty of readers who do this still.

Then came the birth of boxed sets, dozens of authors bound together so that I didn’t have to create my own combinations. They did it for me creating the literary introduction leaving me hungering for more. I became a true fan of the boxed set – be it four titles from a single author, or ten selections from a group of like-minded writers.

Now it’s my turn

bedeviled included in feel the heatI am incredibly excited to share a secret with all of you – I am going to be one of 22 authors featured in an ebook boxed set scheduled to come out in August. My most recent novel, Bedeviled, the third in the Beguiling Bachelor series,will be included in the set alongside the works of USA Today bestselling authors. Even more exciting – you can buy all 22 works for a mere 99 cents! Yes, you read that right. 99 cents!

Why on earth would I sell Bedeviled for less than a dollar when it retails for more than double that? The answer is discovery. Cross promotions and joint boxed sets like this allow my readers to discover new authors while their readers discover me.. What a great way to read familiar and new authors. It rekindles my memories of stacks of books as tall as I was, but without of the clutter.

The working title of the set is Feel the Heat but I will keep you posted if that changes. I will do more than that. For the next four weeks I will be introducing you to four of the world-class authors whose works are included in the set. I want to build enthusiasm. I want you to spread the word to friends and family – hell, spread the word to strangers too. Shout it from the rooftops! 99 cents for 22 great romantic reads.

Hell, spread the word to strangers too. Shout it from the rooftops! 99 cents for 22 great… Click To Tweet

Meet some Wonder Women

I want you to get a chance to meet some of the lovely women who have welcomed me into their world, offering me the opportunity to publish with them. They are kind and talented women, fun and encouraging. You will meet my mentors and inspirations over the next four Thursday’s and get a small sample of their works, personalities as well as a taste of what to expect from Feel the Heat.

Meet Whitley Cox, Jenna Burke, Shana Silver and Linda O’Connor. i am pleased and proud to have them guest on my blog during the month of July. Then watch this space for more about the boxed set and more from these amazing authors.



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All In For Love – Ready to Roll the Dice? #Giveaway

All in for Love

Today I am gambling that you will really enjoy our authors and “All In For Love”.  Yes, I said authors – six of them! Please welcome the authors of “All in For Love”. Six award-winning authors bring you six *sweet to sensual* romances filled with suspense, thrills and maybe even a ghost or two—for less than the price of a cup of coffee—99 cents!

Welcome to La Bonne Chance Resort & Casino!

With thousands of people passing through the casino’s doors on a daily basis, it’s no surprise that a variety of lives and loves are on the line there. It’s said that you’re more likely to lose your heart at La Bonne Chance than a hand of poker. Whether you are the Director of Casino Operations or the guy who created its software, a jilted bride or a black jack dealer, a past guest’s ghost or a sous chef–when it comes to love, the stakes are high.

Thank goodness what happens at La Bonne Chance, doesn’t always stay at La Bonne Chance….

Ready to roll the dice?

Thank goodness what happens at La Bonne Chance, doesn’t always stay at La Bonne Chance….Ready to roll the dice?… Click To Tweet


An Inn Decent Proposal By Sharon Buchbinder

Perfect Odds By Lashanta Charles

A Ghost To Die For By Keta Diablo

Raising Kane By Kat Henry Doran

For Money Or Love By Margo Hoornstra

Take A Chance On Me By M.J. Schiller

Genre: Contemporary Romance/Romantic Suspense Anthology

Release Date: June 1, 2017


An Inn Decent Proposal, Sharon Buchbinder
Can an hotelier with a past and a chef with a future revive the grand dame in a neglected old inn?

Perfect Odds, Lashanta Charles
When a jilted bride meets the man of her dreams, will she embrace the new plan, or cling stubbornly to the old one?

A Ghost To Die For, Keta Diablo
She didn’t believe in ghosts…until one showed up in her room.

Raising Kane, Kat Henry Doran
Funny how a night in jail will change a woman’s outlook on life.

For Money Or Love, Margo Hoornstra
She’s the one woman he can’t afford to lose.

Take A Chance On Me, M.J. Schiller
Who do you count on when the chips are down?


To add to the fun, we are giving away one gambling themed handmade item to ONE lucky commenter who will be selected by a Random Number Generator.

All in For Love... giving away one gambling themed handmade item to ONE lucky commenter… Click To Tweet


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* * *

Excerpts and Author Fun Facts

Excerpt from An Inn Decent Proposal by Sharon Buchbinder

After the hotel auction, a stunned Jim Rawlings and excited Genie King go to Sips, a local coffee house. Overwhelmed with self-doubts verging on buyer’s remorse, Jim begins to question his sanity. Genie, on the other hand, is bursting with enthusiasm and ideas…

“Why did you want this place?”

“The old girl called to me, begged me to save her.” He gave Genie a wistful smile. “Do I sound crazy?”

“You call the Inn ‘she,’ too?”

“Yes, she’s like a grand old dame who’s fallen on hard times.  Remember the parties? The famous people who stayed and played there? Celebrities came to the Inn because they knew their privacy and secrets were safe with us. If those walls could talk!  Every day was new and exciting. I would love to bring back her glory days.”

Genie leaped up, ran around the table and hugged him. “I have the same dream. We can do it.”

He hesitated for a moment, then returned the gesture, his hands unable to resist lingering on her luscious curves just a tad too long. Genie’s inviting cleavage made him wish they were somewhere private. He could scarcely breathe and had to shake his head to dispel naughty images of nuzzling her soft breasts. “We can do what?”

She sat down again, but clung to his hands. “I’ve done the research. The Inn should be in the National Park Service Historic Registry—but it isn’t. If we can get her added to the Registry, there are laws and standards about how we make the rehabilitation. We can bring it up to modern codes, but have to use certain treatments—”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but where will we get the money to do all this?” He wasn’t sure he could afford too many more big gambles like this last one.

Her face flushed and her sapphire blue eyes sparkled. “If we can get her added to the Registry, we’ll qualify for special low interest loans. And for a major tax credit. And we have a million dollars in equity.”

“Pretty, smart—and you say you can cook? If you can do all that, you are a genie.”

She released his hands, pulled her shoulders back, and inadvertently gave him a better glimpse of her bosom. Genie gave him a scalding look. “Are you challenging my cooking, Mr. Rawlings?”

Uh-oh. He never dreamed of Genie having a little temper. He couldn’t resist tweaking her. “I’m sure you’re a solid cook.”

She stood, almost knocking her chair over. “Solid? What the hell does that mean? Average? Good enough to make the turkey for Thanksgiving dinner for the family—but not good enough to cook for guests? Tell you what, Mr. Critic, you come to my house for dinner tomorrow night.” She scribbled her address on a business card and threw it on the table. “My food makes men go weak at the knees.”

Hypnotized by the sway of her voluptuous ass as she stalked out of the nearly empty café, Jim bet it wasn’t just this saucy woman’s cooking that made strong men weak.

About Sharon Buchbinder

Sharon Buchbinder and her husband used to breed and show Egyptian Maus and Color Point Persians (formerly called Himalayans). If you’ve ever seen the mockumentary, Best in Show, you have an idea of what life was like 24 out of 52 weekends a year for this wild and crazy couple. When Sharon returned to school for her PhD in 1986, she decided a doctoral program plus a toddler plus a full time job was more than enough and they placed all their cats in good homes—including their own.

* * *

Excerpt from Perfect Odds by Lashanta Charles

Callista is meeting her fiancé at the airport so they can fly out to N.Y. where they’re supposed to get married, but it seems plans have been changed without her knowledge.

“James? Where are you? They’re boarding everyone now,” I say when I answer.

            “I’m not coming,” he says.

            I pause in making my way to the attendant station. Surely I heard him wrong.

            “Hang on a sec, let me ask them how long we have before they can no longer wait. If you’re here already it shouldn’t be a problem. You’ll just need to hurry. Like, sprint through the airport or maybe get one of those guys on the carts to give you a ride somehow.”

            The attendant smiles at me and holds her hand out for my boarding pass. I move to give it to her, but hear James speaking again.

            “Cali, you’re not listening. I’m not there. I’m not coming,” he says.

            Pulling my boarding pass away from the attendant, I force a smile and step away for privacy. “What are you talking about, James? I’m here waiting for you.” As if he doesn’t know that. He helped me load our luggage into the car before I left this morning. Is this some sick joke he’s pulling right now?

“I’m not coming, Cali,” James repeats for the third time.

            I stare numbly at the ‘now boarding’ screen above the attendant. I heard him the first two times. It makes as much sense now as it did then – none.

            “I don’t understand. You can’t not come. I can see if they’ll schedule us for a different flight. I’m sure it’s not too late. We’re getting there early enough that one day won’t really matter,” I tell him.

            He lets out an exasperated sigh. He’s annoyed? We’re two weeks away from our wedding and I’m at the Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta, Georgia, sans fiancé. I battled an hour and a half of traffic to get here and get us both checked in two hours early, lugged all our suitcases – overweight, I might add – only for him to call when it’s time to board the flight to New York and tell me he’s not coming, yet, he’s the one who’s annoyed?

            “I don’t know what else to say, Cali. I’m trying to do right by you here. We both knew this wouldn’t end well.”

            I splutter. Try as I might, I can no longer get the words to flow from my mouth to have this conversation. We didn’t know anything of the sort. Do right by me? How is standing me up for our wedding doing right by me? I didn’t ask to marry myself. I didn’t insist on us having a short engagement or me moving in with him. I definitely didn’t count on any of this.

About Lashanta Charles

So I don’t really have anything too witty, but I have a 6-year-old with a sharp tongue. One of the things I always tell my kids is that mommy and daddy knows everything. So one day I’m taking my daughter to the store to buy toys with her birthday money. This is how the conversation went:

Her: So, who gave me this birthday money?

Me: Poppy (Grandad)

Her: Oh, I really miss Poppy. I want to go see him.

Me: Well, you have to wait until this summer, when you’re out of school.

Her: Why?

Me: Because you have to learn things in school and if you miss a day, you’ll miss what you need to learn and then you won’t know everything.

Her: Ohhhhh, you mean like you and daddy don’t really know everything even though you say you do?

Me: *speechless*

* * *

Excerpt from A Ghost To Die For by Keta Diablo

Rooney encounters a stranger in her hotel room and soon finds out he’s a ghost!

Rooney looked at the man through narrowed eyes. “You weren’t at the séance on stage, so what then, were you in the audience?”

No, I was on stage, but kind of hanging around in the background. He put his hands in the air, palms out. I swear, I won’t hurt you, but I been lurking around this hotel for two months now wondering how I was going to get out of this mess. Then you arrived at La Bonne Chance with your sister, you know, the fabulous Fontaine sisters, the crème-dela-crème of psychics, and my prayers were answered.

She snorted. “I’m not a psychic, mister, so if that’s your angle, you picked the wrong sister.”

No, I picked the right sister. Now if only I can get her to hear me out.

“I don’t want to hear you out; I want you to get the hell out of my hotel room. Like now!” When he didn’t comply, she moved the can of hair spray until it loomed inches from his face. “I’m going to count to three. If you aren’t out of that chair and out that door by then, I’m giving you a face full of hair spray.”

Go ahead. Maybe then you’ll realize what I am and listen.

“You asked for it.” She held the nozzle down and let him have it right between the eyes. He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t react at all. Much to her dismay, she didn’t even have the satisfaction of seeing him blink. The drizzle and aroma of hair spray hung heavy in the air but didn’t seem to bother him nearly as much as it did her. Through a series of chokes and chortles she managed to eke out the words. “What are you, some kind of weirdo with inhuman defenses?”

A ghost.


You asked me what I am and I’m telling you. I’m a ghost.

Eyes wide, voice in shriek mode, she fell onto the edge of the bed and glared at him. “You can’t be a ghost. I don’t believe in ghosts!”

Understandable. Neither did I until I became one.

She reached out and touched his arm, more to prove him wrong than anything else. A startled scream escaped when her fingers danced through vacant air. Coming to her feet, she paced a small area beside the bed. “This can’t be happening. It isn’t possible.”

That’s exactly what I said when they pushed me off the balcony and I wound up in this state.

She resumed her prior position on the bed. “Someone pushed you off a balcony?”

More like tossed me over, right here at the La Bonne Chance Casino, seventh floor, two months ago.

“Two months ago? You’ve been wandering around here for two months?”

He released an exasperated sigh. I thought you might be a good listener, but I’ve said that twice now. Two months ago I died, and yes I’ve been hanging out here, twiddling my thumbs and trying to figure out what to do next.

“You can’t leave the hotel?”

Not yet, anyway. I’m working on it, but you have no idea how much energy it takes just to project my voice. No one else has been able to hear me, or see me, until you, Rooney, and now I seem to be experiencing a renewed sense of energy.

“Stop saying my name as if we’re besties.”

Well, after that séance and the conversation you had with Violet about your little sister, Vanessa, I kind of feel as if we are.

About Keta Diablo

Keta once dressed up as old man on Halloween and picked up her 9th grader at school in costume! Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased. In fact, he refused to get in the car. She followed him out of the parking lot and down the street for two blocks before he’d even look at her. Yes, he finally got in, but didn’t appreciate her humor…at all. Update: He’s in college now and says the “old man” incident is now one of his fondest childhood memories.

* * *

Excerpt from Raising Kane by Kat Henry Doran

Lt. Kieran Pollack signs in to work and comes up against the woman of his dreams: Mallory Kane, ace investigative reporter. Unfortunately she’s just spent the night in jail and is in no mood to speak with anyone–particularly a cop.

“Anything I need to know before I head upstairs, Sarge?”

“It’s all there.” The night duty man passed him the report from the previous platoon. “The usual pugs, thugs and mugs threw themselves a circus down at The Dirty Dawg last night.”

Kieran scrawled his name on the sign-in roster. “Again? Somebody ought to look into closing down that pest hole.”

“I bet the Mayor is thinkin’ along those same lines. With the Chief on vacation and the Deputy Chief at a meeting out of town, as PIO it’s your job to handle the fallout. Lucky man.”

Fall-out? “What are you talking about?”

A woman with mile-long legs and hair the color of roasting chestnuts strode past the desk, heading in the direction of the revolving door.

“Overnight guest,” the sergeant advised under his breath. “TV Reporter. I was you, I’d head that one off at the pass.”

In addition to a talent for scoping out shapely legs, Kieran possessed the good sense to act on sound advice. After shooting both cuffs and ensuring his tie hung straight, he glided up beside the woman. “Excuse me, miss?”

She stopped, threw back her shoulders, then turned. “Yes?”

In the shimmer of an early morning sun he saw a nasty bruise blossoming across one cheekbone and winced. “Does that hurt as bad as it looks?”

“Who are you and what do you want?”

She possessed a voice designed to make a man think of hot nights and cool sheets. Extending a hand, he launched into his usual PIO song and dance. “Kieran Pollack, Public Information Officer for the Victory PD. What’s a pretty thing such as yourself doing in a joint like this?”

The screech of tires on the street outside obscured any response she might have made. Panel vans bearing the logos of the local TV affiliates disgorged reporters and camera-persons who wasted no time in storming the doors to the Public Safety Building.

Kieran attempted to head her off at the pass with a fast two-step and a faster line of bull. “Look, can you help out this hard working public servant?”

She raised one hand to shield her injured cheek. “Not without my attorney.”

“Aw, now. Why do you want to go and do something like that? We don’t need no lousy lawyers to make things right, do we?”

“I believe it’s somewhere in the Bill of Rights,” she murmured, eluding his out-stretched hand with a fast step to the left.

“Please. Hear me out,” he pressed, one eye on the camera-persons now jockeying for position just inside the doors. “I can make this all disappear―if we could go someplace to talk. It would be to your advantage, I promise.”

A spark flared in those dull, pain-filled eyes. “I’d sooner walk barefoot through a nest of pit vipers than spend one second alone with any member of the Victory Police Department.”

About Kat Doran

There was the time I played private duty nurse for my uncle, after he underwent a resection of an aortic aneurysm. Very scary for a number of different reasons. It became my job to ensure Father Joe got sufficient rest which boiled down to playing traffic cop and time-keeper on visitors. On one afternoon, I could see Joe was fatigued and needed a nap. As I rounded up the crowd to send them out the door, one smirked at me. “Who’s Nurse Ratched, Joe?” he asked.

I said, “Who are you, the Pope?”

He said, “Close to it, honey. I’m the Bishop.”

Aw geez.

* * *

Excerpt from For Money or Love by Margo Hoornstra

Lindsey Carr’s two best friends, Rita and Anne, discuss exactly why she and her mega-millionaire boss, Daniel Montgomery, are no longer romantically involved.

Shooting Lindsey a quickly manufactured smile, she turned her full attention to the eye candy. “No doubt about it. Those are bedroom eyes.” She trailed her fingertips over Daniel’s forehead, down his cheek and onto the outline of his lips.

Lindsey brought both hands to her lap under the table, locked her fingers together and squeezed. It was a four-page spread in Today’s Tech magazine. The picture of Daniel’s forehead, cheek and lips.

An important distinction to remember. If that had been her boss in the flesh he’d be blushing beet red from all the fluttery female attention. Daniel Montgomery was different than most other powerful millionaires. Those she’d heard about anyway. Certainly drop dead gorgeous as had been established. With a mile wide shy streak not many people knew about or even suspected. Hands still clasped, Lindsey leaned away from the display.

Anne slid her glass aside and moved up to fill the void, her critical gaze focused on Daniel’s picture. “I’m never sure what the term ‘bedroom eyes’ means.”

“Not droopy or sleepy.” Rita didn’t bother to look up. “Sexy. There’s no other word for it. Well, maybe erotic would fit. I must say, Lindsey. It amazes me you can work side by side with this man day in and day out and manage to keep your hands to yourself.”

“It’s easy.” She murmured the blatant lie. Very easy. He does the same and then some.

“You and this marvelous specimen.” Rita waited until Lindsey glanced up then met her eye to eye. “As a couple, are old news, right? That’s what you’ve said.”

“Absolutely.” Purposely lowering her voice, she mentally counted to five before she spoke again. “We did the dating thing for a while.” She shrugged one shoulder for effect. “It didn’t work for us.”

Lindsey took a small gulp of wine to avoid having to share more, and was relieved when Rita and Anne went back to hunk browsing. Trying her best to ignore the fact it was Daniel’s hunk they browsed, she gave up to give into her own thoughts about the man.  Bowing to a mutual attraction that became evident soon after they met, Lindsey and Daniel dated for a time. A very short time, consisting of a few casual dinners, a couple of movies.  That one night in….

“Why didn’t it work for you exactly?”

Unsure who asked the question, Lindsey looked up then blinked. “It just didn’t.” She slowly let out a breath. “I don’t think of Daniel Montgomery in that way.” Much anymore.

“Then why are you blushing?” Her sharp gaze unrelenting, Rita leaned considered her from across the table. “Care to share?”

I’ll have no peace around here until I do. Taking her time to indulge in another sip, she completed a long, slow swallow then licked her lips.

About Margo Hoornstra

Becoming a coffee connoisseur wasn’t an instant fall head over heels event for Margo Hoornstra. Initial cups were loaded with milk and sugar. When the children arrived, two AM feedings coupled with six AM risings for work necessitated more indispensable caffeine. Flavored, iced, lattes and such, a true coffee aficionado, she covets them all.

* * *

Excerpt from Take A Chance On Me by M.J. Schiller

After chasing leads at the station, Cash returns to his home where his partner, Ian, is supposed to be watching over the murder witness, Harper…

Cash slowly pulled his keys out of the door, examining the pair. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Right, Ian?”

Ian nodded loosely. “Nothing. Like she said.”

Cash closed the door and set his keys on the end table. “Uh-huh.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “What’s behind your back?”

Ian shot a glance at Harper. “You’re on your own.” He ducked into the kitchen.

“Coward,” she mumbled out of the side of her mouth.

Cash moved forward, and she took a step back. He lunged, catching her, and causing her to scream. He wrestled the bottle from her hand and brought it out where he could see it. Ian ran in, his concerned gaze darting to Harper. He stopped and put a hand over his heart, leaning against the side of the archway between the two rooms.

“Hmm.” Cash took a step back, tilting the bottle. He fought the smile tugging on his lips. “Is this my Jäger?”

Ian and Harper looked at each other with open mouths, but neither spoke.

Cash ambled over to the coffee table and clinked the bottle against the shot glasses as he set it down. “So—and correct me if I’m wrong—it looks like, while I’ve been out working my ass off, the two of you were busy getting snockered.”

“Oh, no.” Harper shook her head. “We were working hard, right, Ian?”

Ian made an attempt to stand straight, but swayed comically. “We were working hard.” He nodded, but turned to Harper. “What were we working hard at again?”

“Looking at the mug shots.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s right. We were looking at the mug shots.” He faced Cash. “And doing shots.”

“Sh-sh-sh. It’s a secret.” Harper laughed.

Ian chuckled along with her. “Oh, yeah.”

Cash put his hands on his hips. “Well, I hate to tell you, friends, but the cat’s out of the bag now.”

“Cat? What cat?” Harper laughed, seeming to be slightly more sober than her partner in crime, his partner.

“He has a cat?” Ian seemed genuinely confused, looking around for the feline. “You never told me you had a cat.”

Harper sputtered and broke into laughter again.

Cash sat, hiding his chuckle. She was so damned cute. He put his feet on the coffee table, spreading his arms out along the top of the couch. “Whose idea was this anyhow?”

They pointed at each other.

“It was mine?” Harper asked. Ian nodded. “Oh. It was mine.” She smiled and didn’t appear to try to hide her pride.

Cash shook his head, staring at them for a moment. He stood and pulled out his phone. “Okay, Ian. I’m calling you an Uber.” He punched some buttons. “Chrissy’s gonna kick your butt. And the next time she sees me, she’s gonna kick my butt.” He looked at his screen. “Two minutes away.” He came over and put his arm around Ian, steering him to the door.

“I’m leaving?”

Cash grabbed his jacket off a recliner. “Yes, you are. Maybe the night air will sober you up some.”

“I doubt it.”

Cash laughed. “I doubt it, too. And you, little missie—” he swung around to point to her.

She looked about, then put a finger on her chest and mouthed “Me?”

“Yes, you. Don’t think you’re off the hook. I’ll deal with you when I get back.”

About M.J. Schiller

One day–when M.J.’s triplets were about two, and her eldest four–she was doing laundry and matching up the socks, one of her least favorite chores. She lined them up all along her arms as she hunted for their mates. After a bit of fruitless searching, she glanced at the time and realized she needed to hustle to be on time for a prayer service she was attending at her church.

She made it in time, her four children in tow, and removed her coat before kneeling to say a prayer. An half hour later, as she piously prayed along with the congregation, her eldest asked, “Mommy, why do you have a sock on your shoulder?” She had missed removing one of her husband’s long, mateless gym socks!


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A First Look at Laverne Thompson’s “The Beast Within”

Today it is my pleasure to introduce Laverne Thompson and TWO of her new books. She is honoring us by sharing a preview of her upcoming book, The Beast Within along with an excerpt of her current novel, After Midnight-City of Sin. Take it away, Laverne.

My name is LaVerne Thompson, I write contemporary, fantasy and sci/fi romance but I also have an alter ego. As Ursula Sinclair I write new adult and romantic suspense.

I’m an empty nester. Both of my kids have graduated from college and are off in their chosen careers so it’s just my hubster and me along with my dog and cat. So I pretty much write all over the house. I’m no longer relegated to hiding in the basement to write, which is what I used to do when the house was full.

I write romance because I am a romantic at heart. I love a happily ever after and want to take my readers there. Even in a continuing series the reader still has the satisfaction of knowing my heroine gets her hero. lol I also love to build worlds, which is why even my contemporary stories tend to have intrigue or be more romantic suspense. But my favorite is writing fantasy/paranormal or sci/fi works. Then I can really let my imagination roam. The other thing about most of my books, other than the romance and hot sex 😊  there’s also violence. In some more than others, not between the hero and heroine but directed toward them and they also direct it toward the villains, who more than deserve it. And my heroines stand side by side to dish it out with the hero.

I find my inspiration pretty much any and everywhere, even in my sleep. I find it in my dreams, in music, a conversation, looking up at the stars, looking into the mist or watching the ocean. I can go on but you see, everywhere.

Right now I’m working on something new that will be out in August. It’s part of an anthology this is new work and is a stand alone paranormal. The Beast Within will be part of the Creole Nights Anthology. Here’s a first look.

Excerpt from The Beast Within by LaVerne Thompson

(Coming in August)

Suddenly, her body froze in mid sway slowly she lowered her arms. Someone stood behind her. This person was different from whoever had been there before. It wasn’t like he was touching her ass or any part of her body—yet she felt him. His heat. Her heart picked up its pace, but it had nothing to do with the music but the man behind her. Oh yes, she knew it was a man, there was no mistaking the male energy wafting off him behind her. She desperately wanted to turn and see who he was. She could feel his breath on her neck. Then she began to sway again, a primal instinct moving inside her, wanting him to press his body against hers and move with her.

My daddy dearest would make anyone who looked at me sideways disappear, permanently… Click To Tweet

AFTER MIDNIGHT- City of Sin (available now)

laverne thompsonBlurb:


I wasn’t looking for a relationship, never even crossed my radar. Then one night in a crowded room, I caught a scent that seeped into my marrow. I followed it and found the shock of a lifetime. Someone was playing frigging tricks on me. She is Vampire and I’m Were. She is forbidden to me. But I never did do rules.


I wasn’t looking for a relationship. Hell, I’d never really even had a boyfriend. My daddy dearest would make anyone who looked at me sideways disappear, permanently. Then one night in a crowded room, I heard a voice. The resonation vibrated soul deep. I could not turn away. But he’s Were and I’m of the old blood. My father’s going to kill him when he finds out a Were has claimed me.

Buy Links

Meet Laverne Thompson

Laverne ThompsonLaVerne Thompson is an award winning, best-selling, multi-published author, an avid reader and a writer of contemporary, fantasy, and sci/fi sensual romances. She loves creating worlds within our world. She also writes romantic suspense and new adult romance under the pen name Ursula Sinclair.

She is a certified chocoholic and is currently working on several projects. Some might even involve chocolate. But writing helps maintain her sanity.

Sign up for her newsletter for sneak peeks and advance info on new releases as well as a few freebies to subscribers. to learn more about her books

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and on Twitter at


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Meet Ann Everett and her Romance “Chirp”

Please join me in welcoming author Ann Everett, a fellow Diet Dr. Pepper addict.  Ann brings her love of romance and her wit to her latest release Chirp. Check out this excerpt and you will be as anxious as I was to start reading.  Enjoy!

My Questions for Ann

Where is your favorite place to write? At my desktop. Most authors I know love using their laptop, but I’ve never been able to feel comfortable with one. The only way I use mine, is to connect a regular keyboard to it!

What inspires you as an author? Just about any and everything. The book I’m working on now was inspired by an article in the monthly magazine I get from my electricity provider.

Why do you write romance and why your genre of romance? Who doesn’t love a happily-ever-after? I write several different types of romance. Contemporary, romantic mysteries, and new adult. It depends on the idea I get as to which slot my books falls into.

What are you working on next and when can we expect to see it? I’m about half-way through my next project which is a companion book to my latest release, Chirp. I hope to have it released by late 2017 or early 2018.

Ann Everett author of "Chirp"Chirp by Ann Everett

A woman hiding from her future…..

Heiress to the largest steel company in America, twenty-year-old, socially awkward Blaze Bledsoe hides out at Dessie Bishop’s farm. For the last three years, Blaze has eluded one investigator after another, but just when she thinks she’s safe, a PI closes in. Her luck is about to run out in more ways than one.

A man running from his past….

Rance Keller, a tough, hard-living ex-con, fresh out of prison for a crime he didn’t commit, arrives to claim the house his grandmother left him. Finding a strange girl living there, his plans for a solitary life take a turn. Her lack of modesty, no filter, and word of the day fetish baffles him, but those big green eyes and sweet mouth have him losing sleep.

Welcome to Bluebird, Texas

Where two damaged people with secrets, discover trust can lead to passion.

Excerpt from Chirp


Blaze reached room three and referred to the next list: Blue eye shadow. Black mascara. Mauve lip gloss. Enhance beauty mark at corner of mouth.

Only thirty-nine years old, Ginny Elliott had met her demise when her biker boyfriend failed to negotiate a turn. Thank goodness she’d worn a helmet. Camouflaging a mangled face presented a challenge. Being tossed ten feet into the air before landing on hard pavement had proved too much for the rest of her bones.

Ginny was dressed in a leather jacket and low-cut tank, her voluptuous breasts swelling over the top. Nothing like formaldehyde to pump up a woman’s upper thorax. Blaze tugged at her own T-shirt, conscious of the small boobs she’d been blessed with. Removing the pencil from behind her ear, she scratched out part of the note, and made changes.

Proper shading and contouring made women appear pounds lighter and years younger. Once Blaze had finished, Ginny looked like a Harley Harlot. Blaze always regretted the client couldn’t witness the magic. She jotted another message, tucked it into Motorcycle Momma’s pocket, and zipped it. “Give this to Larkin Montgomery. You’ll recognize her because we look alike.” With only a few pictures for comparison, she wasn’t sure about that. The older she got, the less she remembered about her mother.

With her supplies back in place, Blaze peeked into the hallway. The coast appeared clear. No Cam waiting to walk her out. Maybe she’d finally been rude enough for him to get the message.

Outside, a sharp February breeze cut at her face, but spring hid right around the corner. Almost time to break up the garden spot. Even though she liked living alone, she missed Dessie. The sweet woman had left the place to her only grandson, but Blaze would never meet him.

Since he was serving a fifteen year prison sentence. She’d be long gone by the time he showed up.


Rance stepped outside and followed the aroma of bacon to Bubba’s Diner. Just what he needed after going heels to Jesus all night. He removed his last cigarette and tossed the package into the blue trash barrel at the corner of the building. Really should give up the bad habit, and he would. Later.

It occurred to him, the tag-team event with the BFFs, had fulfilled his goal. No more pressure. With an early start and few stops, he could make it to Bluebird in one day. Grab a quick breakfast. Crank up the Harley. Hit the road. Couldn’t wait to see the place again. Enjoy the seclusion and relax in his grandmother’s old claw-foot tub. That’s what he loved about the little country town.

Everything remained the same. Never any surprises.

Find Ann’s books at 

Meet Ann Everett

Award winning and Amazon Best-Selling author, Ann Everett embraces her small town upbringing and thinks Texans are some of the funniest people on earth. When speaking at conferences and to writing groups, businesses, book clubs, and non-profit organizations, she incorporates her special brand of wit, making her programs on marketing, self-publishing, and the benefits of laughter, informative and fun.

A top reviewer on, she lives on a small lake in Northeast Texas where she writes, bakes, and fights her addiction to Diet Dr. Pepper.

  • She’s been married to her high school sweetheart.
  • She loves shopping at thrift stores.
  • She doesn’t remember her first kiss.
  • She hates talking on the telephone.
  • A really sharp pencil makes her happy.
  • She secretly wants to get a tattoo.
  • Elected as a charter member of National Honor Society in high school remains one of her biggest surprises.
  • She’s thankful wrinkles aren’t painful.
  • She sucks at math.



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