Sunshine and Snakes

So I’ve been writing about how stupidly busy I am and how I want to waste time by writing about writing in real time. I’m going to try that with this:

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While I should be working my day job, supporting my massive comic book addiction, or you know, writing the words I need to earn my degree, I will instead be writing about bad boys!

This call seems tailor-made for me. I write a lot about criminals, though I’ve never been one (that you know of). The first novel I wrote, Evasive Love, features a Bounty Hunter falls in love with a drug manufacturer he’s bringing to justice. Second thing is Uninvited Love, about Sal, a prostitute who is not glamorizing his job when he ends up kidnapped. Then came The Dishonest Lover about George, a professional thug who falls for a counterfeiter. This year alone there’s been The Scarf, a criminal shape-shifting fox and Hiring the Tiger, about an ex-bandit tiger.

I have a theme. It’s criminals.

But the one thing about all those guys above is that they are redeemable. Elliot in Evasive Love has stopped making drugs because they’re hurting people, Dimi in The Scarf is hiding refuge animals, so he’s breaking an unjust law. Sal, George, and Roy are all trying to stop being criminals. Nav is a tiger and he’ll do what he wants, bitch.

So yeah, very redeemable guys.

The thing that tickles me about this anthology is that it’s not about good guys. They want anti-heroes. I think it would be really fun to write a love story between two dudes who are unrepentantly bad. One is a hit-man and the other is in the Mafia and I love this idea that they could be criminal together. Not want to escape from crime, or bring anything to justice, just be amoral and in love with each other.

And because I’m experiencing that same spark of excitement I had the beginning of Breathless, I’m going to try this writing about the writing business.

So every day I work on this new story I’ll record thoughts on it and see how it comes together.

The frightening thing about doing with Snakes and Sunshine is that unlike Breathless where the story was contracted before I started writing it, so I knew it was going to be available to readers.  I couldn’t not write Breathless because they had already agreed to publish it.

I don’t know about Sunshine and Snakes. I can submit it and  be rejected. I can implode and stop working on it entirely because I have other writing obligations and nothing forcing me to stick with it.

The bulk of my notes on this story are in this nugget:

“How’s your flight?”

“Good. Sat across the aisle from a little kid. Played cop and robber with him.” Ice [which is not going to be his name, I promise myself] mimicked shooting an imaginary gun around his coat. He looked fucking ridiculous and Burgess had no doubt even the kid’s mom thought the man mockingly shooting her child was totally harmless. “When I got bored, I pretended I was actually dead. Kid spent the rest of the flight crying.”

Burgess laughed. Ice nodded and leaned back, sinking into the couch. That was about as much as anyone ever got from Ice. Even in prison, when he’d ended up in the infirmary with bloody knees and bruised eyes no one in the block could have told what time it had happened. He never made a sound when he got beat down. He never made a sound when he got fucked either.

Bur tapped the beer can. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if he sat around thinking about blow jobs behind bars or the nebulous consent of his cellmate. “So.  How’s Arizona?”

“Full of sunshine and snakes, asshole.” Ice leaned forward. “Listen. Are we gonna kill your Dad or not?”

Hopefully, you won’t hear about this until August when I’ll have a mostly written first draft of my thesis novel and maybe a minute or two to write Sunshine and Snakes.

 

Longo Out!

 

 

Part Two: Break Me by Elyzabeth M. VaLey

Break me is a dark, twisted, erotic romance, which was fascinating to write. Grisha’s and Ayla’s life revolve around ballet and thus, I immersed myself in that world through documentaries, articles and
of course, music.

 

Although, there were many more,
below are five of the pieces which I listened to the most to help inspire me.

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1.
Giselle (From beginning to end. I heard -and watched – this masterpiece.)
5.
A compilation of ballet music for dance classes found on YouTube
As it happens in ballet, behind the beauty there is more than meets the eye. Grisha and Ayla are the same, and I invite you to delve into their story.

 

The monster lay dormant, until it saw her…
Every few years, the beast within Grisha Vasiliev rouses, clamoring for blood. When he sees Ayla Clark dancing, her movements exuding grace, passion and joy, he knows he must have her.
Grisha kidnaps Ayla expecting the usual: resistance, tears, pleas for mercy. But when Ayla breaks the mold, his whole world spirals out of control and feelings he thought he could never have again resurface.
He thought she was perfect, but she’s the broken doll on the shelf.
The last thing Ayla Clark remembers is celebrating her performance as Giselle and flirting with the handsome Grisha Vasiliev, the owner of one of the most prestigious ballet companies in the country. Now, she’s tied up and at his mercy, begging for more of his attention, while fighting to keep her own secrets buried in the dark.
Be Warned: BDSM, knife play, whipping
Available at:
And More!
About Elyzabeth M. VaLey

Elyzabeth M. VaLey is a writer of sizzling, sexy romance who firmly believes in happy ever after.  From paranormal to contemporary, fantasy, or historical, she enjoys exploring her characters’

darker side and writing stories about tortured heroes, strong heroines, and all

that comes between them and their love.

When she’s not writing, she can be found walking in the Spanish countryside with her black Lab, exploring castles, or enjoying some tapas with her friends.  

Follow her at:

Blog

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Instagram (@elyzabethm.valey)

Goodreads

Pinterest  (Break Me has its owninspiration board)

Amazon

Part One: Break Me by Elyzabeth M. VaLey

Break Me is a dark, twisted, erotic romance, which was fascinating to write. Among other things, one of the things I enjoyed the most while crafting this story was digging deep and uncovering each of the layers that made up both Grisha and Ayla’s personalities.
And I must tell you, there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to those two. 😉
The monster lay dormant, until it saw her…
Every few years, the beast within Grisha Vasiliev rouses, clamoring for blood. When he sees Ayla Clark dancing, her movements exuding grace, passion and joy, he knows he must have her.
Grisha kidnaps Ayla expecting the usual: resistance, tears, pleas for mercy. But when Ayla breaks the mold, his whole world spirals out of control and feelings he thought he could never have again resurface.
He thought she was perfect, but she’s the broken doll on the shelf.
The last thing Ayla Clark remembers is celebrating her performance as Giselle and flirting with the handsome Grisha Vasiliev, the owner of one of the most prestigious ballet companies in the country. Now, she’s tied up and at his mercy, begging for more of his attention, while fighting to keep her own secrets buried in the dark.
Be Warned: BDSM, knife play, whipping
Available at:
And More!

 

Excerpt:

Ayla turned on her heel and raced out the door. Her bare feet slapped against the cool floor almost painfully. The glass shard cut into her hand but she didn’t dare release
it yet. Lights blinked on as she ran down the hall and up a set of stairs.
Tripping, she dropped her primitive weapon.
“Fuck.”
She didn’t stop to pick it up but continued until the top. She clutched her stomach. It couldn’t be. A thick metal door loomed before her. She lunged at it, screaming and
crying, shouting for help, but it didn’t budge.
“Please,” she whimpered.
 “You’re going to hurt yourself. The door is pure steel, locked with a key and an electronic panel.”
She spun to face Grisha. He stood a few steps behind her, arms crossed over his chest, eyes gleaming with predatory intent. Her shoulders slumped. A lump formed in her throat.
“No. Please, Grisha. Let me go.”
 “I can’t do that.”
“Why? You’re rich, powerful. You can have anything you want. Why?” she insisted. “I swear I won’t say anything. This never happened.”
“That isn’t the way this works, sweetheart.”
“Please, Grisha.”
Her knees gave out and she slid to the floor. Her head spun. None of this made any sense. Grisha towered over her. Tears gathered behind her lids. She inched forward,
hugging his left leg.
“I beg you.” 
Grisha lay his hand on her head. She looked up at him. The power of his gaze undid the well of emotions within her. She would never get out of here. Sobs racked her body. She clung to him, beseeching him.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
He settled on the floor next to her and pulled her onto his lap. Ayla’s arms wrapped around his neck naturally. He caressed her back in soothing circles. She burrowed her face into the collar of his shirt, his fresh, woodsy essence entering her
system. Familiar. Welcoming. Slowly, her tears ebbed replaced by confusion. Why
did he comfort her?
“What are you going to do to me?” she whispered.
He caught her chin. His gaze danced over her face for an instant. His brow furrowed. The blue in his eyes darkened to midnight depths. Then his lips were on her, pressing, claiming, sparking her body alive. Her brain shut down. His tongue met hers and she opened up, eager to taste more. He demanded and she willingly gave.
Ayla was his to do as he pleased. His hands touched her everywhere, leaving behind a trail of burning need. Liquid gathered at the apex between her thighs. Her clit
throbbed.
Grisha cupped her swollen breast, squeezing the turgid nub between his fingers. She moaned. He bent his head and took her nipple in his mouth, hungrily sucking. She
arched, whimpering. His heavy hand slid across her thigh to her pussy. Relentless fingers probed her entrance.
“You’re soaked.” He groaned.
She turned her head, embarrassed. Grisha thrust a digit into her. Ayla sucked in air.
“You like this.You want this,” he said, his voice husky and gritty.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“You enjoy this,” he whispered, pushing another finger into her, slowly pumping them. She mewled.
“My sweet little dancer wants my cock in her cunt, doesn’t she?”
She shook her head.
“No? That’s not what this tells me.” He curled his finger across her G-spot and began to massage it. She shook from head to toe.
“Please.”
“What is it, sweetheart? Want more?”
Three fingers rubbed her. The pressure increased. Ayla threw back her head. Her hips swayed involuntarily. His strokes turned quick and short. Sweat trickled down her
back.
“Grisha,” she panted.
“You’re going to come for me, Ayla, and you’re going to do it now.”
About Elyzabeth M. VaLey

Elyzabeth M. VaLey is a writer of sizzling, sexy romance who firmly believes in happy ever after.  From paranormal to contemporary, fantasy, or historical, she enjoys exploring her characters’
darker side and writing stories about tortured heroes, strong heroines, and all
that comes between them and their love. 

When she’s not writing, she can be found walking in the Spanish countryside with her black Lab, exploring castles, or enjoying some tapas with her friends.  

Follow her at:
Blog
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram (@elyzabethm.valey)

Goodreads
Pinterest  (Break Me has its owninspiration board)
Amazon

Catching His Cat

Catching His Cat

 

Sybella Gandry knows what it’s like to fight for something she wants. Her entire life has been a battle. But will one night of passion with a stranger threaten everything she’s worked so hard for?

She hoped her first meeting with the Alpha Council wouldn’t turn into a problem—but if it did, she was prepared to deal with it. The one thing she wasn’t anticipating was a wild night of passion with the male who was her fated mate the night before. She’d learned early on, that having a mate and her position within the pard just wasn’t possible.

Laird Connors is an Alpha’s Alpha and he’s very used to getting his way. So, true to his nature, when he meets his mate he wastes no time in showing her exactly who she belongs to—or so he thought. His little cat tries to run, but nothing will stop him from claiming what’s his.

 

Purchase Links:

Amazon: https://www.amzn.com/B071G54SQV
Evernight: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/catching-his-cat-by-sarah-marsh/

 

 

Excerpt:

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he growled before rubbing the pad of one finger in circles around her aching clit.

Her hand was still stroking up and down his cock, and when his fingers dipped lower, finding her entrance, Bella groaned, biting down on his shoulder. Fuck, she needed his cock inside of her.

“Pants off,” she panted and released him.

In seconds, he had her jeans and panties stripped and his own thrown across the room as he knelt in front of her. The intensity in his eyes was enthralling as he growled again and then lunged at her. She wasn’t frightened, though. On the contrary, she knew she was about to get fucked and fucked good.

His arms scooped her up, and then they were both bouncing on the large king sized bed. Immediately he moved down her body, his hands pushing her legs wide open and up as he settled himself in between them. She didn’t even have a second to anticipate what he was about to do before his mouth descended upon her pussy, licking and nibbling over every single inch. Two thick fingers plunged into her core, thrusting in and out as he sucked her throbbing clit in between his lips. It was a full-on assault of sensations, and before she even knew it, her entire body was coiled in preparation to come, her hands tightening their grip in his hair as she pressed her hips harder into his mouth, and when he bit down on her clit she screamed as the orgasm echoed through her core. The waves of pleasure ebbed over and over again until his mouth finally released her.

“Holy fuck,” she whispered as her eyes closed and she struggled to catch her breath.

“Nah, we’re just getting to that part,” was his cheeky answer as she felt him kiss his way back up her torso until his weight settled in between her thighs.

Bella could feel the throbbing heat of his cock pressed against her pussy. She was so wet now that it easily slid through the swollen lower lips, causing small tremors to pulse through her womb in aftershocks. His arms were on each side of her waist, holding him above her, and she rested her hands at the top of his ass.

“Look at me, little cat.” His voice was still rough with his desire. “I want to see your golden eyes as I take you.”

She slowly opened her eyes, and her lips broke into a lazy smile, her hand coming up to rest against his cheek. She loved the thick stubble she felt there—it had felt even more amazing against the inside of her thighs. His deep green eyes seared her with their gaze, and it felt like he was looking right into her soul as he pulled his hips back and found her entrance. She sighed as he slid his thickness into her slowly as if he was savoring the feel of her around him. It seemed an oddly sentimental moment for such a sexually aggressive male, and not normally one she would appreciate from a bed partner—but something was different with this one.

Once he had pushed himself all the way inside of her, a low rumble had once again begun to come from deep inside his chest as he lifted her legs to slide his arms underneath them. Her breath caught as he pulled her closer, his balls nudging up against her ass, and then he began to move. He pulled all the way out of her snug heat, and then slammed back in, his gaze never leaving hers. Bella’s hands held onto his forearms, grasping at the only part of him she could reach as he began to thrust in and out of her, over and over again. She could feel her fangs dropping as her cougar snarled inside, encouraging the male to move faster, to fuck them harder. His own teeth were now visible as well, and sweat rolled down his face and chest as he worked her. His wide, thick cock didn’t miss a single nerve inside of her, and her body lit up with pleasure. Every stroke seemed to take her higher and the harder he took her, the more she needed.

“Harder, more…” she groaned out, her claws unsheathing from her fingertips to grab into the flesh of his arms.

Suddenly he growled and released her, slipping out of her sheath abruptly, but before she could complain, he had flipped her over onto her hands and knees. He pushed her legs apart and slid back inside, his hands now over her shoulders, using the leverage to pull her back onto his cock at a furious pace. Well, she’d asked for harder, and boy, did she get it.

The intensity of his fucking made her inner animal go crazy, wanting to claw at him, to mark this partner in her fury of lust. Over and over again, his shaft thrust inside of her, and she would have done anything to feel the release of his seed into her waiting center. When one of his talented hands finally moved back down, around her hip and pinched her swollen clit, her pussy spasmed around him, trying with everything it had to take him with her.

With a furious roar, he followed her into bliss, the hot jets of his seed coating her insides. At the same time, she felt his teeth bite deep into her shoulder, and her cat roared as well inside her head, telling her to sink her own teeth into this male—to bite him and mark him as theirs for the entire world to see.

Wait … what the hell did my inner cat just say? Mark him?

Fuck!

“Mine…” he moaned, his cock pushing deep inside of her once more. “You’re mine now, little cat. My mate.”

Double fuck!

 

About the Author:

Sarah Marsh was born in British Columbia where she still lives, she has only recently began her writing career finding it the perfect outlet for taking the edge off a nine to five office job. She’s been a science fiction and romance junkie for years and when her imagination started to take the characters she’d read about even further in their adventures she decided to try writing something of her own.

Sarah’s also a former pastry chef and spends a lot of time cooking and baking for friends and family as well as painting and knitting. Her biggest weaknesses are animals of any kind…she even loves the ones that wake you up at four in the morning because they can almost see the bottom of their food dish.

When it comes to life in general she’s a big believer that laughter is the best medicine and that there’s no such thing as too much love, which is why she’s such a sucker for a happy ending.

 

 

Author page links:

Bookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/sarah-marsh

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/sarahmarshfiction

Blog: http://sarahmarshfiction.com/

Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/sarahmarshfiction/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/SM_fiction

Facebook Street Team link: https://www.facebook.com/groups/955387561187276/

 

 

 

Breathless: Part 2 the Not-So-Magical

That brilliant idea of writing about the writing. I really wish I’d done that for Breathless because…


Today it’s the Fourth of July and I hate everything about writing.

Shit went sideways in a big way with Breathless. A lot more difficult to write than I initially thought it was going to be. Which is a problem because that story is already contracted and I am not backing down.

Here’s the premise– the promise I am making to readers– A soldier working night-shift in a cafe, where his primary job is to kill aliens under the planet’s surface that no civilian knows about, falls in love with his boss, who comes in morning to do the prep-work night shift is not doing. Eventually, the boss discovers the aliens and soldier saves him and they kiss and are happy forever.

The story should be pretty fun and quirky. The kind of thing that probably fits in an anthology about Love across the Universe. None of my usual Dark Romance, BSDM, trigger warning inducing hate sex bordering on violence. Breathless should be funny and uplifting.

It is not.

Right now, for some reason, my light hearted Rom-com in space begins like a Military SF/Horror. The first chapter has these soldiers underground, really tense, really dark atmosphere, then BAM! one of the solders gets his head bit off.  Fantastic hook.

But Chapter Two is about the manager and is all butterflies and fluffy romance. It makes no Goshly-dumbed sense (full disclosure, I’m recording this at Starbuck’s and a small child has just sat down, intensely watching me while she licked the face of her pirate pop).

The promise I made at the beginning of the story does not fit with a romance novel. No matter how *snicker* killer that hook is, it’s not suitable for the story the rest of the work wants to tell. In a novel, there’s more time for the soldier to grieve, for the romance to develop above this bleak hidden world, but with only 10 Thousand fruit-caked words, I cannot do it. *laspe in to Scottish accent* I simply canne do it. Word counts suck money ball.

(And Daddy has taken his precious little face-licker away.)

Anyway, so the whole process of reigning this monster in, tightening it up, cutting all sorts of really fun and exciting bits that did belong in the story, but were not serving it to the max was a royal pain in the ass. I did not anticipate this in the beginning since I had such fire. I knew exactly where I was going, how I wanted to tell the story. I had the fun opening scene with the morning guy being snarky and funny and putting these giant cyborgs in their place, then the soldiers shamefacedly going in the back and there’s a giant alien getting hacked up and dissolved.  Much better hook for a romance novel. That also ended up getting cut because I needed to get to the relationship even faster.

In a novella, you have such a short amount of time to bring it all together.

I wish I’d been writing about the writing so I could have caught all these little nuances  and why it’s so weird and difficult to do what we writers do.

During the revision, I spent a lot of time thinking about the beginnings and endings and the promises we make that the ending has to pay off. And working that backwards so in the end everything that’s paid off had worked hard enough to earn the pay out.

And I wish I’d be recording that in real time, because I think this happens to me every time I write a novella (one of the reasons I want to write about the writing is because I have such a terrible memory for the process). I’d like to understand my own better. You know, anticipate how much writing a novella is going to fuck me up emotionally.

Because it does.  I think my natural writing is novel length, and probably epic in scope due to the nature of the worlds I build. But I’m writing most novellas.

Writing things that are shorter is painful. When I’ve written short stories successfully, I’ve cut them off just before the point where they become novels. A character remains trapped where in a novel they would escape, or gives up completely in a place that would otherwise just be the inciting incident for their journey of self discovery.

Breathless: Part 1 The Magic

Sometime in May, I had the brilliant idea to write about the writing in real time. However, I suck at blogging. Still, I had a voice recorder full of excitement and so I thought I’d share the thrill of catching the idea with you.

All of this was written on Memorial Day 2017.


So I try to write everyday, but after the craziness of March through May where I edited and published three novellas I was mentally exhausted and without a project.

This made the second half of May very strange for me. I haven’t felt like myself because I haven’t been sticking to my habit. I’m not as happy when I’m not writing (there been times in the past when my partner, literally told me to go away and write because I was being mean).

I still have been working on Witch, Ghost, Dog, Clone (which is a huge fantasy project that is also my graduate school thesis project), notes for the rest of the Heart of the Mountain series, and tinkering with old stuff. But I haven’t had a real project, because I’ve been writing like God-damned demon I needed a break.

So I took a break. Watched some Jessica Jones and Supernatural. Read some Deadpool.

But yesterday, for whatever reason, the writing came.

Rather than struggling to put words on page (or you know, text on screen) I found myself fluidly being drawn into a story. I knew the characters instinctively, I saw where the plot was going, I even had an opening line.

It’s an idea I thought up working at Starbucks. There’s long hallway that leads to a parking garage where they kept the garbage. One of my jobs was to walk to trash for this hallway and as a writing exercise I’d describe the hallway in my head in different voice and tones. How does it look from a horror novel from the monster’s POV? What about in a  romance novel?  What about in a comedic mash-up of the two where dude is so much in love that he’s listening to his music and dancing along, and never notices the giant bug demon hanging on the ceiling.

Somehow I got hung up on the idea of monsters and I put my Starbucks experience in the Buffy verse. My little place on Grove St. was actually nestled on top of a Hell-Mouth and and the reason nothing was ever done in the morning was because evening shift was killing demons keeping those bastards underground.

I had this fun image of David Wong, Kevin Smith, and Nora Roberts mashup where the romantic lead is this oblivious dude on night shift who falls for his boss who works the morning shift. Boss thinks Dude is an asshole because the work is never finished, so Dude starts working his ass off in the last half hour of the day to get everything done and impress Boss.

I teased this idea while writing Heart of the Mountain, and Witch, Ghost, Dog, Clone, and turning in the final edits for Seaweed and Silk and The Scarf. As I took out the trash, I’d daydream about someone getting locked out of the cafe and then devoured in the hallway. Or a soldier dropping down to the Hell-Mouth and hunting demons Dean and Sam Winchester style.

Then at some point, I had to submit a story idea to an romance anthology from the same people that brought you Crazy Little Spring Called Love. I knew it was science-fiction and I knew it had to happen on a beach. My brainstorming and searching through old stories brought me nothing. Neither did asking my sister (a hopeless romantic) for advice.

But I didn’t have time to write, because it was a Starbucks day, so I went to work. Of course, night shift had made a royal mess of things. Disorganized pastry case. Oddly curated sandwich selection. No cold brew made. And of course, they put in the wrong garbage bags. Instead of triple bagging the one for the coffee grounds (wet coffee grounds is the smell of trash. Nothing else smells as much like trash as wet coffee grounds), they’d put in a bag so tight it had stretched to fit over the edges.

Being witty as fuck at 5:30 a.m., I mentally demanded, “why? Did the bin see it’s youth floating away and decide to chaseit ‘s former glory with tight-ass garbage bags?  Did the trash make questionable sexual decisions and the bin squeezed into a female condom for protection?”

What I actually said was, “hum. Must have been busy. I’ll change this now.”

And my boss remarked on how pleasant I was and cussed out night-shift for me.

Instantly, I had the character for Dude’s love interest. Someone who could be mentally shredding everyone else to pieces while remaining pleasant to work with. It suddenly occurred to me, my story wasn’t happening in a Hell-Mouth, but on an planet so big that it was mostly beach. The brainless monsters Dude was hunting weren’t demons, but aliens, the insentient beginning of life. And when Boss found out, he would handle his rage by making Dude breakfast and smiling.

I even had a title for it.

Breathless.

 

And about 3000 words into it now. I’ve got a word count limit of 10k. I’m aiming to finish this puppy by Wednesday when I go back to Starbucks again.

Happy Memorial Day, folks. Wish me luck.

Cover Reveal Love Across the Universe

 

 

Love
Across the Universe

 
Genre: Science Fiction Romance
 
Publisher: Stars and Stone Books
 
Date of Publication: August 1 2017
 
ISBN-10: 0-9977081-8-2
ISBN-13: 978-0-9977081-8-9
ASIN: B071JSHCGC
 
13 Stories of
Science Fiction Romance Set on Intergalactic Shore 



#spacebeachlove

Summer love is summer love, no matter the planet. Climb aboard your
spacecraft or time machine and travel across time and space with these
thirteen tales of love on beaches in the future and among the stars.
Includes stories by USA Today Bestselling Author Traci Douglass, Cara
McKinnon, Rhonda Jackson Joseph, A.E. Hayes, Sheri Queen, M.T. DeSantis, L.J.
Longo, K.W. Taylor, Mary Rogers, Elsa M. Carruthers, Emmerite Sundberg, Serena
Jayne, and Oriana Maret.
Traci Douglass – “A Dream to Build a Kiss On”

Can passion bloom between a bookish botanist and an analytical android?

Cara McKinnon – “The Pirates and the Pacifist”

Kai doesn’t believe in violence. Sam and Dek believe the ends justify the
means. Will passion be enough to bridge the gap between the pacifist sent to
broker galactic peace and the space pirates hired to keep him away at all
costs?

A.E. Hayes – “Tristan’s Tryst”

One mysterious being. Two lovers who find her. Can this threesome handle
the heat of this scorching summer?

Sheri Queen – “Red Sand”

If she can only save one thing, which will it be—the red beaches of Mars
or a love she can’t imagine living without?

M.T. DeSantis – “The Princess of Sands”

Secrets and lies. Can they be each other’s freedom?

L.J. Longo – “Breathless”

The manager of a resort planet and the head of its secret defense unit
team up to save the guests—and discover danger is a potent aphrodisiac.

K.W. Taylor – “Reprogramming”

Alex didn’t want to be marooned on an alien planet with a robot, but it
may just be exactly what she needs.

Mary Rogers – “Breakfast on Pluto”

Doing the right thing isn’t always what’s best—but sometimes it pays
off.  A chance meeting of two people unaware of their destiny with each
other results in a bond too difficult to break, but even duty has its
boundaries. Will love help them break free—and will love be enough?

Elsa M. Carruthers – “All B+ut You”

Lou is looking for the right guy and finds him where she least expects.

Emmerite Sundberg – “Fluid”

She’s everything she’s ever wanted but with one flaw – they can’t
actually touch.

Serena Jayne – “You Only Love Once”

Carpe diem the hell out of love.

Oriana Maret – “Renewal” 

She’ll brave the arms of destruction to shed the arms that betrayed.

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Excerpt from E.D. Parr’s Thief of Hearts

 

Thirty year old, lawyer, Blake Aster gazes from his high-rise office window wondering if this summer he’ll find love, but deep inside he doubts anyone will ever want him again. He can’t forget the scar he has running the length of his handsome
face.

Hunky, daring, Alex Ryan is cleaning the building windows. Struck by the mythical
beauty in the Blake’s looks, fun-loving Alex sets out to get Blake’s attention.
Maybe a striptease outside Blake’s eighth floor window will do the trick.

 

Excerpt:

Alex ran his hands into the beast’s thick dark hair and held his head, plundering his mouth with kiss after kiss, and grinding his cock on the beast’s hard body.

The man in Alex’s arms broke away. He gulped in air. “You’re the window cleaner.”

Alex smiled with amusement. “You noticed. You are so fucking hot. How soon do you think you’d come if I sucked your cock?

The delectable man’s eyes widened. He gasped. “Feel my cock.” He took Alex’s hand and pressed it onto the rock hard column in his suit pants.

A low moan escaped Alex. He grazed his lips on the beast’s. “Open your pants.”

In seconds, Alex had dragged the beast’s pants and shorts down his legs. He dropped to his knees and licked all the way up the perfect cock that sprang free. He grabbed the man’s thighs, opened his mouth wide, and took the leaking dick deep into his throat, simulating fucking for a few strokes. Alex, felt his own cock leak. The tip was high against his jeans waistband and strained at the fastening. He drew the beast’s cock in and out of his mouth, circled the head, sucked at the pre-cum, and pushed his hand around to tease at the man’s hard ass crack. The beast groaned and thrust, his hips finding a rhythm, he fucked Alex’s mouth.

Alex’s thighs weakened. His head filled with the scent of sex, and cum. He basked in the male energy exuding from the hot guy who orgasmed in his mouth with a long groan.

Copyright E.D.Parr 2017 Evernight
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Shari Elder: On Rats and Alphas. Plus and Excerpt from “Unnatural Allies (Book #2 Shifting Alliances)”

So we’ve met Shari Elder before and we learned to both fear and respect her high-heels. Now Shari is coming back to talk about her latest book, “Unnatural Allies (Book #2 Shifting Alliances)” which features, a rat shifter.

Here’s Shari:

As a writer, the real thrill in writing a rat alpha as a hero, is the freedom it gave to explore the parameters of an alpha.  How far could I stretch that definition?  How many beta-like characteristics could I sneak in and still maintain him as a leader who commanded respect of bigger, stronger predatorial shifters?

Let’s start with what he looks like. Evan Grant is lean, with smaller muscles and shorter stature and a facial twitch (think rat with whiskers) we don’t tend to associate with heroes. While he is physically significant among other rat shifters, he pales in size to predators. He can be a deadly fighter, but prefers to use strategy and diplomacy over weapons and fists to solve conflict.  He’s humble, letting people assume he’s a local shopkeeper, when he is CEO of an international franchise.  He also reads and writes poetry and craves intimacy. His commitment to his pack, however, makes it hard for him to have a steady lover, a spiritual pain he carries everywhere like one would a phone.


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Excerpt

At home, Evan Grant listened to Jillian’s angry voice mail again, disappointment an angry pulse in his stomach. The females in his clan drove away another potential girlfriend.  Again. He’d thought dating a doe from another mischief might circumvent the competition, but the females ganged together more coherently this time. Usually they took sides—for or against his intended lady.  Either way, he had yet to meet a woman willing to handle the fireworks.

An image of the wolf beta popped into his thoughts. Shy on the outside, she radiated with hidden depths and lips a man could lose himself in. Predator. Big teeth. Claws. His rat was right, that was an odd thought. He was grasping at straws. The pack would have to embrace any partner he chose, and they were possessive of him. Too much so. A wolf would be out of the question. Probably fatigue conjuring up crazy ideas. Or his ever-present need to be deeply connected, and being wrapped around and inside a woman, her scent intermingled with his own, the closest he got to satisfying that need. Having Jillian here tonight with that tinkling laugh, lemony scent, and long, mewling moan instead of her shrewish accusations would have helped him unwind after a tough evening.

For a rat alpha, pack integrity had to be his top priority—it was the source of their strength—how they survived and thrived in a world full of hunters. Since he earned rather than inherited leadership, as happened in some clans, he didn’t need to marry or start a family. He wanted to. Evan craved intimacy, which was what made him the longest lasting rat alpha on record. He understood how to create relationships, thrived on them. He loved his clan, but he also wanted to come home, take off all the masks he wore to govern the rats, and lose himself in his woman.

He sighed. Being solo again had its benefits. With the fae on the march, and this strange new alliance in place, being there for his pack would be paramount. Managing the clan jealousies that always came with his relationships would divide his mischief and weaken them.  Without strength, they’d be battling the predators in the alliance at the same time as they battled the fae.

He erased Jillian’s message, then got himself a beer.  The bite of a strong, cold brew kept him centered. Plopping down on his favorite recliner, he sank into the buttery faux leather, worn from age and use. He reached for the book of poetry, pen, and the journal he kept hidden under the chair cushion. His packmates would not understand. To him, the lyric and motion of a poem, how its stark language captured complex emotion, caressed his rough edges, tempered the well of loneliness he carried even amidst his pack. Reading and writing poetry released his inner torment and created a bridge to the empathy he needed to manage the rats and negotiate among the predators.

Get Unnatural Allies (Book #2 Shifting Alliances) here!


Blurb

A World in Transition

Violent fae encroachment on shifter land is heating up. With death tolls rising, the impossible becomes necessary – an alliance among predator and prey shifters.

An Inconceivable Love

Nicca Baron, lone wolf and wolf clan beta, finds herself under the command of Evan Grant, the rat alpha.  In different circumstances, he’d be dinner. Or so her wolf keeps reminding her.  Evan proves to be a perceptive leader, a skilled fighter and irresistible to her lonely heart.

To rule the rats, you have to rule the pack. Evan is a whiz at managing people and groups. Until he finds himself leading a mission made up of every single large animal that thrives on rat flesh. And not the kind between his legs.  The only bright light is Nicca. Her storm gray eyes miss nothing, her brilliant mind comprehends everything and her succulent curves offer the perfect place for a rat to nestle.

An Impossible Future

In each other’s arms, Nicca and Evan discover love and a new perspective in an off-kilter world. But a wolf cannot mate with a rat, no matter the strength of the human attraction.

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Interview with Lee Piper

Interview with Lee Piper

The room only feels small because it’s crowded with people in darkness. Only the stage is lit, red and white lights flashing on the enthusiastic drummer, while the rest of the band leaps and swirls their heads and hips at the crowd screaming and hopping along with them.Somewhere in the throng of sweat and excitement is Lee Piper.

L.J.: How the Hell am I going to find a romance writer in this mob. Now if this was a nice quiet folk concert…well, everyone would be a writer.

The music quiet slightly as is the singers whisper with burning intensity into their microphones. Panties drop around the room as they croon, but a snatch conversation drifts from the edge of the crowd.

Lee Piper: Oh yeah, I was a massive Chris Cornell fan, circa 1990’s. The frontman of Soundgarden was everything my mother warned me against—probably why I liked him so much.

L.J.: There she is!

Muttering polite ‘sorry’, ‘excuse me’, and ‘why are you jumping up and down like that at a concert? And aren’t you worried about concussions?’, L.J. crawls though the mob to lean against the wall besides Lee. Trying desperately to be casual.

L.J.: So… it’s bit loud in here!

Lee: Oh no. I love, love, love heavy rock music. Especially kick-ass Aussie bands. Like Tabula Rasa.

L.J. nods.

Lee: That’s my husband. Isn’t he hot?

L.J.: The one with the curly long hair swinging his guitar like a battle axe?

Lee: No, the drummer.

Lee stares longingly at the stage a moment.

L.J.: Right. I wanted to talk to you about your art actually.

Lee: No. I’m here for research purposes!  I swear, I’m not just ogling. Really. I write about rock stars.

L.J.: Can we go somewhere quieter?

Lee: What? Oh! Are you the interviewer? Let’s go somewhere quieter.

Then we are in a beautiful part of the world the clear blue skies, calm oceans, and suburban houses as are only found in South Australia. A White Pointer Shark swims over the neatly groomed lawns and over the rows ATVs and jeeps dotting the street.

Lee: Uh, you’ve never been to Australia, have you?

L.J.: Nope! So tell me about Rock and Roll and writing and what inspired The Mondez Series.

Lee: I was going through a difficult time and decided to check-out of reality for a bit and immerse myself in the world of Kylie Scott’s, Stage Dive series. Interest soon turned to obsession and I couldn’t get enough of her writing style, epic characterisation skills, and overall awesomeness.

Lee leans in confidentially.

Lee: Not gonna lie, I fangirl like you wouldn’t believe over Kylie Scott. If I actually meet her in person one day there are gonna be tears, high-pitched squeals, and the very real possibility of a restraining order. Just kidding. Kind of.

Uncomfortable silence as something obvious deadly in the mailbox rattles and squeaks.

Lee: Just the dog. Don’t mind it. Anyways, reading Stage Dive and being a groupie… I mean being married to a musician inspired me to put pen to paper and give the whole writing gig a red hot go. Five months later, Rock My World was written.

L.J.: Just like that. Wow. So how did you get into writing romance.

Lee: My mother is partly to blame for my foray into the romance genre. She used to read Mills and Boon.

L.J. googles for you. * Australia has its own Harlequin phase, complete with pulp covers, titles like Glass Slippers and Unicorns, and ripping bodices.

Lee: You know, the really cheesy ones from the 80’s where the heroine is in PR and the guy is a bonafied douche-canoe. Mum would share them with me when I was a teenager and I would snigger at the way the authors wrote things like, “trembling thighs,” and “manhood.” Cracked me up.

L.J.: For years, I thought euphemisms were the difference between erotica and porn, because of ‘manhoods’ and ‘trembling thighs’. Does your mom like your books?

Lee: she hated the first one, loved the second and the jury is still out on the third. If nothing else, she’s brutally honest with my writing.

They laugh. Kangaroos, startled by the sound, fly out of the nearby bushes.

Lee: Really, you should google Australia.

L.J.: T.V. wouldn’t lie to me. So the Mondez Series are all based on one of the four men from the band, Mondez.

Lee: Written from the perspective of the women who ultimately bring them to their knees. Gotta love women who can tame alphas.

L.J. inches away from the decorative pond and the koala swimming around clearly thirsting for the blood of the two writers.

Lee: Are you okay? You look unsettled.

L.J.: Koalas are very unsettling. Anyways, while we’re on the subject…

Lee:  Of koalas?

L.J.: Of anxiety. I saw in the book trailer for Rock My Body that the main character suffers from anxiety. What made you think of writing a rock star’s love interest with this disorder?

Lee: I’ve been diagnosed with it myself. It’s been a part of my life for a few years now.

L.J.: I know a surprising number of writers with anxiety disorders. I myself can’t even have a fiction conversation with another person without imaging bizarre things going on.

Lee: It sucks hairy yack balls. I find writing about it super helpful, if for no other reason than to raise awareness about what a challenge it is.

L.J.: Well, let’s scroll down and read some of this writing.

Rock My Body Front Cover


About Rock My Body

Thundering drum beats? Check. Swoon-worthy vocals? Check. Panty-obliterating lead guitarist? Check. Looks like you’re all set for Rock My Body, Book Two in the Mondez series by Lee Piper!

 Riley Sears promises herself never to fall in love unless it’s going to end in an engagement ring and a white picket fence—her medically diagnosed anxiety skyrockets otherwise.

Enter Dominic Mondez, the hottest guy ever to grace pecs and abs. He propositions Riley with a cocky yet tempting offer of the best sex of her life—his words. However, after learning he’s a manwhore who never sleeps with the same woman twice, Riley’s decision becomes remarkably simple.

No. Way. In. Hell.  

He is a commitment phobe; she needs commitment. End of story.

Sadly, traversing the murky waters of friends without benefits isn’t simple, especially when he’s lead guitarist of local rock band, Mondez. Riley is also cautious of his tempestuous nature, womanising ways and—even worse—inexplicable jealousy. He is bad for her in every possible way.

Bad, bad, bad.

If only her body would listen.

 


Excerpt from Rock My Body:

He was watching me, I could feel it. My body sensed him long before my head did and started tingling. Everywhere.

Oh, holy mother.

Just the thought of him made my heart pound. Traitorous thing. It merrily rammed against my ribcage as soon as I pictured his tall, muscular body and dishevelled, russet hair. My fingers itched to reach out and delve through the soft strands—they remembered what it felt like to tug down on them as he groaned into my open mouth—but I shifted in my seat and sat on them instead. I wasn’t going down that road again, hell no. I was done. D.O.N.E.

A low chuckle cut through the muted sounds of heavy rock music emanating from inside, its gravely sound resonating with my downstairs department, causing a deep blush to stain my cheeks.

Clearly, I wasn’t fooling anyone.

What in the name of sweet baby Jesus is he even doing here?

I tried so hard to focus on what Sebastian was saying. Thankfully, he held up his end of the conversation despite my unexpected inability to formulate any words. We’d been sitting together for a while without a single awkward pause so I nodded, smiled, and even laughed when required. To be fair, it was a pretty decent pick-up attempt. Well, until he showed up.

Blue eyes burned my skin.

You don’t own me, you don’t own me, you don’t—

I swallowed, steeled myself and then glanced across the beer garden.

Own me.

Dominic was leaning against the wall, his black, button-down shirt almost bursting at the seams. I blamed those insanely strong pecs and biceps. Honestly, they were huge. And the way his dark blue jeans hung enticingly low off narrow hips… Well. It should be illegal. He was going to give someone—aka me—a cardiac arrest if he wasn’t careful.

I shook my head. With a bottle of beer in one hand and a buxom blonde in the other— this one looked nastier than most—the guy was the physical embodiment of everything I despised. Truly.

If only my body would listen.

Raising the drink to full, kissable lips, he tipped his head back, piercing gaze still locked on me. He then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a flicker of emotions I couldn’t identify crossing his face when he noticed my breath catch.

The girl must have registered his distraction too because she started rubbing herself up against him like an overly aroused limpet. Gross. He broke contact with me and looked down at her, a dark smile tugging his lips. After murmuring something in her ear and slapping her on the behind, she giggled. I looked away, that familiar painful knot forming in my stomach once more.

Damn you, Dominic Mondez. Damn you to hell.

Rock My Body Teaser 2


Holy Cow Readers Love Rock My World:

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I loved this story. I couldn’t put it down! –Rabid Readers Book Blog on Rock My World

From start to finish I could not put this book down! I highly recommend reading it, a truly amazing writer!!! –Kindle Customer on Rock My World

 Lee Piper showed us the strength it takes to love someone who is broken and the mental struggle a person battles to just let it all go and live again. Not an easy task, as a real person or as an author writing about imaginary people. To have a reader actually feel a character’s emotions, feel their pain as your own is a challenging feat BUT Lee conquered this task. –Kameron Brook on Rock My World

This book had me from start to finish. Cannot wait for the next one in the series!!! –Kindle Customer on Rock My World

Rock My Body Teaser 1

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. –Oscar Wilde