Guest Bloggers | Page 23 of 167

About Choosing Your Novel’s Title by Akinyi Prinzessin von K’Orinda-Yimbo (A P von K’Ory)

by Lucy Felthouse | Jan 14, 2019 | Guest Bloggers | 0 Comments

I read an article by Chuck Sambuchino about how to choose a novel/book’s title, and it reminded me of my own inadequacies in this task.

I remembered when Bruce Cook edited my first novel back in 2010, then titled Jungle Habits, Bruce said (to put it loosely): Nope, this title doesn’t do the book justice. This book is more than Jungle and Habits; it’s all about tradition and the desire to adhere to them in a modern changing world, for a young African girl torn between modernity and her traditional African/Kenyan/Luo upbringing.

Bang!

I changed the title to Bound to Tradition, now a trilogy and the book that won me the Netherlands PADDI prize: Achievers’Award for Writer of the Year 2013.

Another title I had to change was Helena’s Secret, which does involve the heroine’s deep-seated secret about her biological heritage that she hides not only from the world but even from her own self. It is a secret that has become a huge roadblock in the fulfilment of young

Helena’s romantic yearnings and makes her give romance a wide berth. Until true love steps between her and her roadblock and demands full attention. My mentor and editor extraordinaire, Kenneth Mulholland, called the title “pedestrian, like The Day Kate Went to the Market”. And I changed the title, first to Secret Shades of Fading Blood, then to simply Secret Shades (now a two-book novel – Secret Shades Aroused, and Secret Shades

Revealed). Secret Shades as a title is short and memorable, and a lot more intriguing because it leaves that potent word “Secret” in place while adding in “Shades” which conjures up anything from sunglasses to ghosts. In truth, the “secret” is about Helena’s biological

heritage and concerns the colour of her skin.

Apparently, even F. Scott Fitzgerald was asked by his publisher to change the title of his novel, which we all know as The Great Gatsby. The famous writer’s original title for the book was Trimalchio in West Egg. Would you have been drawn into buying a book with that title?

Readers, as a rule of thumb, are drawn to a book not only by its cover but also by what the title conjures up in their minds, coupled by the book cover. Not an easy task for a new writer. After all, we are writers, creators of the world’s mushrooming in the space between our ears, not experts in luring other people’s tastes and preferences to our lair so that they come and consort with us. At least I’m not the think-of-the-readers-first kind of a writer. I have my world in my heart and soul and it screams at me to create it. I want to share it with everybody, even the unwilling, but won’t take offence if some people don’t love my baby and don’t see its beauty and merits. All else is shut out when I create. I’m in labour, alone at home. I’m not thinking about how many copies will be bought and by whom. I’m thinking, “I have this baby in me and it’s time to give birth to it and nurture it to maturity”. It’s a desire and a temptation

I can’t resist. It’s addictive and has a pull beyond my “common sense” arena.

My writing is heavily tinged with my own Euro-Afrocentric upbringing and cultural heritage that is includes Kenya, Egypt, India, German and French. All tinged with the innermost me.

That’s why it is ever so crucial for us writers to have an editor and a publisher to take care of “business”, leaving us the time and peace to create and nurture our creations to maturity.

Blurb: Golden Shana: The Chase (Book 1)

An evening at the opera house La Scala in Milan twirled the lives of five people into a web of intrigues, heartaches, human hunts, loss and revenge.

Roman: I never chased after a woman. It was always the other way around. Then I caught a glimpse of the woman I would kneel for, at the opera, and I didn’t even know her name. But I determined to find her if it took me the rest of my life.

Shana: He stood in the room with her. The frisson in the currents freaking between them was as solid as a steel portal. The mutual force of predator and prey blasted its way into her core … her soul … Danger. Keep far away from him.

Marie: Some men were born to rule the world; others were born to ruin it. Roman Alastair Northcott Broughton Castell was born to do both. But she loved him and awaited his baby.

Alyssa: He was the lover she wouldn’t tire of. Roman had something so damned perilous about him he was addictive. Who gets addicted to safe and riskless? Not her.

Grieg/Phoenix: Had His Girl interpreted that Friday night as abuse? He’d only done what she wanted – protection of her cherished innocence.

Excerpt from Golden Shana: The Chase (Book 1)

What a difference a day makes… And it hadn’t been a day. It had been an evening in Milan. Brief moments of an evening. I didn’t care about the consequences to whomever. Through my obsession with Svadishana I became aware of the fact that I was a person. A human being, not an almighty god, with all the baggage that comes with being that. I too – eureka! – had a heart pumping white and red corpuscles through my veins. Blood, not icicles.

Was it love I felt for Svadishana? A woman I’d spoken three whiny words – Please call me! – to? Was it more than simple lust and desire? Did I want to possess more than just her body?

Pondering these questions alone was so unlike me. That woman had turned me into an alien even unto my own self. What I felt, my inner voice said, was more than the thrill of the hunt. More than lust, desire, need, passion, the excitement of possession, and subjugation.

Of course all that was part of it. But the basis or the source, the seedbed on which all that sprouted and was growing to full blossom in me, could well be something else.

When I thought of her, saw her image from Milan in my mind, watched how she moved in long smooth strides in YouTube, my brow beaded with sweat. I couldn’t pull my gaze away from the few photos I’d fished out of the Internet. Group photos at a family birthday or the authorized biography of her father. Her movements in a YouTube conference clip were springy and powerful even in their smoothness. She exuded strength all over the place, laughing, talking, gesticulating.

A breath-taking beauty. Such beauty that I dared not believe it at times.

And brains to go with it.

In love or not, I knew what I wanted and Svadishana was the answer. I wanted her and would do anything short of suicide to get her. Who knows – perhaps when it came to that as the only means available, I’d really murder too. I didn’t in the least care about the consequences, as long as they got me to where I wanted to get to.

Svadishana’s arms and knickers and… heart?

What obsession, Roman. Get back to real.

No chance. Real was Svadishana.

Blurb: Golden Shana: The Capture (Book 2)

Roman finally gets together with Shana. But he finds himself wedged between three women and the man intent on killing him because of Shana. And there’s the secret of Marie’s unborn baby.

Roman: I wanted to eat all of her. Even within that fortress I longed to erect around her to hold her captive in, to keep her away from men not worthy of the sight of her, I’d devour her.

Shana: Roman was deadly sex. She had no antigenic for immunity against him. Instead she lay there on his bed, in an impossible state of sluttish disarray, holding her breath.

Marie: “So you didn’t bring your rich old cow with you.” The bitch was ten years older than her, years older than Roman himself. Weren’t men supposed to prefer younger women?

Alyssa: She was not going to let Roman treat her like a hole in the air. He started this triangle and she was going to make it equilateral.

Grieg/Phoenix: His philosophy stated that peace was bondage, and war was freedom. His Girl was his territory, and no other man’s.

Excerpt from Golden Shana: The Capture (Book 2)

I picked her up and carried her like a bride. Or a sleeping child. She nuzzled between my neck and shoulder. I kicked the door shut behind us.

We were both ablaze, and I needed to check that, wind it down a notch.

“Like to lie down on the sofa and cuddle till we both slow down a bit?”

“Bed.” Her voice vibrated against my neck.

We left the entrance hall behind us. The flames kept on leaping.

“Overriding my sensible decision?”

“Yes. Bed.” Tremulous once, tremulous twice.

“Just got me, and you want to run away with it.” I bore her past the living room.

“Bed.”

“I’m getting a restraining order on you.” I took the first stair, chest tight again.

She lifted her head off my shoulder and her Huskies sent megawatts to my blues. Unveiled desire. My balls clenched. At this degree I risked coming where I stood with her in my arms. I was tempted to close my eyes and summon my control. For the first time I felt life surge through my veins for a woman, the whole woman, not just sex with her. Again, I experienced that powerful instinct in me to guard and protect her, the fragile and most precious thing in my life. She had a pull on every cell in me. Her masses of loose curls gave warm slaps through my chinos to my hip, sending the sergeant into planning guerrilla warfare for its freedom.

The witch. I was hypnotized. I had to stop climbing the stairs and get my head cleared. She was as necessary to me as the air I breathed, yet she knocked that air straight out of my lungs. Her naked desire was intoxicating. Insanity mingled with reality. I really had her back in my arms. She came to me, came to my home for the first time. And ordered Bed, not a mutual shower. She was the first and only woman to take me to this Newland. She was my perfect balance. I’d fallen hard and didn’t even want to get back up. It happens to the worst of us ingrained rogue playboys.

The Huskies still pinned me in Newland. “Skirting around the deed, are we?”

“Protecting my golden goddess.”

For sheer survival, I broke the lock of our eyes and started up the stairs again.

Blurb: Golden Shana: The Untouchable (Book 3)

Roman doesn’t even want a harem. But the harem relentlessly seeks him. No sooner has Shana left Roman than Grieg/Phoenix is marking time on Roman’s door, out for a war, not a fight, over Shana. And so is Marie, whose pregnancy Roman still keeps a secret.

Roman: I loved owning women. Then I found my woman. But she would never be owned, not even by the gods. She left me. Still, her dangerous admirer and I began wars over her, not merely street fisticuffs.

Shana: Roman scares me in every way and the fear excites me. I’m brainless in his arms, brainless just from thinking about him. He makes me navigate so many labyrinthine passages and secret doors that I’d never even been aware of before. My body knelt and wept for him. My common sense made me flee from him while I could.

Marie: I sold Roman my heart and soul. Only to realise my body had not been consulted, and was therefore out for war.

Alyssa: I really got all that about Roman. The super-ink indelibility of him, the substance of him that stamped his four-figure-euro Ferragamo Oxfords, the supernatural charisma that rocketed him all the way up there with Lucifer. His square would never fit my round. But hope springs eternal, right?

Grieg: “If I have whoever your girl is, why don’t you simply come over and take me off her or her off me?” Roman had not reacted like a man who had received that damning message. Over the phone, he’d sounded as if he didn’t have a single feather ruffled. Time to start the war.

Excerpt from Golden Shana: The Untouchable (Book 3)

I heard him change the phone to the other ear. “Castell, you’re a kid running a billion-euro crib, you pervert.”

My system actually waged wars for me to jump out of my skin. Control, Castell.

“Oh, yes. I’m about as straight as the U-bend under a sink, fuckwit. So is this the problem? A pissing contest based on having some beef about your wallet being a little anorexic in comparison? Have I got that bracketed?” I heard him swallow again. I decided on a blind knock on that, although for all I knew he was drinking water. “By the way, I’d ease up on the drink. Otherwise you won’t manage to solve the square root of bugger all, let alone remember if you have any other name but Sggirb.”

“I know you right up to your fucking perve room, Castell. I delivered the CD—had the CD delivered – right into your fucking office, practically into your hands. You know nothing about me. So you better watch your smart mouth.”

“Ah, you thought you’d simply storm the Bastille that’s my home and be discreet about it, then slink into my office building and show me the dot over the i that amounts to your balls? You’re right, I know nothing about you. You’re not even in my periphery, private or public.”

“I’m not a ball of yarn to your kitten, so watch your fucking mouth, Castell!”

Just to keep him put off his stroke, “Who would you say has all the tools for annihilation, fuckwit, the kitten or the yarn?”

“You’re lucky I’m—”

“Luck is basically mythical. Reality is called chance. How about we meet?”

He said nothing.

Not good, because now that I was screwing him hard, I needed to keep up the pace. So I said, “You could make it your mud hole or you could haul your arse back here to my city. Then we roll up our sleeves, or whisk off our T-shirts. Then we start doing a little tribute to Muhammad Ali out in the Congo with Joe Frazier.”

He said nothing. I heard him swallow at intervals during the silence. “I’m rapt with attention, fuckwit Sggirb, so let’s have a date and then – to quote your countryman –you are an American – float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”

“You think you’re so fucking cool…” He rumbled the word out long: Coooooollll…

“Oh, I don’t just think it.”

“Just keep your hands off her, Castell. Keep your hands off My Girl!”

“If I have whoever your girl is, why don’t you simply come over and take me off her or her off me?” I paused for a reply, none came. “Or is this the sheep being docile until they get utterly famished?” Another pause. Silence, so I continued, “You sound like you wouldn’t find a clitoris if you were armed with a compass, street map and a fucking NASA telescope.”

“You can’t intimidate me, Castell.”

Which only exposed to me the wound I’d ripped open in him. Time to add chilli.

BUY LINKS IN KINDLE – Please note that the books are also available in paperbacks:

UK Kindle: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Golden-Shana-Chase-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B00WA7M3OC/

UK Kindle: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Golden-Shana-Capture-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B06X1DGGMZ/

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Golden-Shana-Untouchable-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B07H1YY28C#reader_1725967073

US Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/Golden-Shana-Capture-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B06X1DGGMZ/

US Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/Golden-Shana-Untouchable-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B07H1YY28C/

UK Untouchable PB: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Golden-Shana-Untouchable-von-KOry/dp/1725967073

Website http://www.Akinyi-princess.de

Twitter https://www.twitter.com/Apky11162

Facebook

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAPVonKOry/

Facebook Timeline: https://www.facebook.com/apvonkory

FB Golden Shana Series: https://www.facebook.com/Goshanaliterotic/

FB Editor/Services: https://www.facebook.com/KOrindaYimbo/

FB AuthorMePro Press: https://www.facebook.com/Professionaless62bloggerP/

FB Readers & Reviewers: https://www.facebook.com/AkinyiReadersReviews/

Amazon Author Page

https://www.amazon.co.uk/A-P-Von-KOry/e/B00MDHD7ZS

*****

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/a-p-von-kory/

Enter for your chance to win a Kindle copy of one of A P von K’Ory’s backlist books!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

If You Can’t Handle the Heat by H K Carlton (@AuthorHKCarlton)

by Lucy Felthouse | Jan 12, 2019 | Guest Bloggers | 1 Comment

Thank you for inviting me to your blog today. I’m doubly excited to share not only the re-launch of, If You Can’t Handle the Heat, but this re-release is also my first self-publishing venture.

This story was previously published with the title If You Can’t Stand the Heat. Though there is a little bit of added content, the story remains relatively the same.

In this erotic story, two very different professionals are brought together as celebrity judges on a reality-based cooking show. Sesto Théodore—the celeb chef that the show is built around—meets walking cliché, Syn Fully, erotic novelist. Though there is an immediate conflict in personalities, there is also an instant sizzling attraction. A classic clash and burn.

*****

Blurb:

An unlikely couple is brought together as celebrity judges on a new reality-based cooking show.

Sesto Théodore, is an arrogant yet well respected American-Italian chef, with several five-star restaurants.

Once bitten, twice shy, Syn Fully, is a jaded author of erotica, rocketing her way up all the best sellers lists.

From the moment Syn and Sesto meet, their personalities clash, yet behind the scenes sparks fly. Getting together would be a recipe for disaster, but hot sex with no-strings couldn’t hurt. At least not until real feelings get involved.

But just when Syn considers opening her damaged heart to the cocky chef, video of rather personal content is leaked online. Sesto immediately jumps to conclusions and accuses Syn of the privacy breach.

Can the arrogant chef forgive and forget, or will his pride leave him out in the cold?

Somebody’s about to get burned…

Possible Triggers: Please note one scene contains borderline bdsm and dubious consent/forcible confinement. Also in this story intimate video is obtained without the knowledge or consent of the participants involved, and later distributed online

Author’s Note: This erotic story has been previously published with the title, If You Can’t Stand the Heat. Though there is a little bit of added content, the story remains relatively the same. It has been re-edited and re-formatted for re-release, and has a sizzling new cover thanks to Studioenp

Buy Link: Universal Link

*****

Adult Excerpt:

Sesto took the opportunity to turn his wrath on Syn. “May I speak to you out in the hall, please!” he demanded, shooting to his feet.

“Of course,” she responded, haughtily, as though she hadn’t just been giving him the initial stages of a hand job under the table.

Sesto allowed Syn to take the lead. He was momentarily captivated by her long shapely legs, as she stalked across the space, confident and oh-so fuckin’ sexy in those red stilettos. Sesto pulled level with her and couldn’t resist the urge to place his hand to the small of her back, left bare by the severe cut of her dress. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d trembled at the contact. Or was it his hand that quivered?

In the corridor, Syn rounded on him, at the same moment he blurted, “What the fuck do you think…”

The words died on his tongue, as she once again stroked his shaft through his trousers. Her gaze settled on his mouth. Her breathing was shallow.

“Where’s your dressing room?” she asked, backing him up.

Sesto grabbed her other wrist and dragged her into the green room, before slamming the door behind them.

He yanked her hand, above her head and forced it against the door. He half-expected her to fight. What he wasn’t prepared for was the brazen little smile that hooked her sinful lips, as she raised her arm to join the other. With both hands stretched above her head Syn arched toward him, thrusting her beautiful tits, right in his face.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked again. “We don’t even know each other.”

“I know. Isn’t it wicked, how our bodies want to though.”

He groaned, shifting uncomfortably foot to foot, yet he couldn’t focus on anything but her lovely breasts.

“Go ahead, Théo, set them free,” she tempted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Buy Link: Universal Link

*****
About the Author:

H K Carlton is a multi-genre Canadian author of romance, with over thirty titles in publication. From naughty to nice, historical to contemporary, time travel to space travel, and everything in between.

Variety is creativity’s playground—It’s where you’ll find me

Join me for the ride:

Blogs:

Pick a Genre Already

Breaking Genre

Pick a Genre

Outrageous Girls (contributor)

His to Protect (An Alpha’s Claim #2) by Maia Dylan (@Maiadylanauthor)

by Lucy Felthouse | Dec 21, 2018 | Guest Bloggers | 0 Comments

BLURB:

Kaea Hemopo was a man on a mission. He planned to kill the bastard who killed his grandmother, and nothing was going to stop him. He had the man lined up in his sights, his finger on the trigger, and was prepared to die to get it done, but then Kaea found out that he was following the wrong man.

Xavier Mulligan had been stalking his own prey the night he met his mate. He’d been shocked to discover that Kaea was not only there to kill him, but thought he was the asshole who’d murdered his own father. Xavier would just have to make his mate see him for what he was, and accept his very nature. How hard could that be?

Can Kaea and Xavier find a way to work together to avenge those who were taken from them, and retrieve that which was stolen from Kaea’s family, or will Xavier’s need for control be the one thing that could tear them both apart?

**M/M, anal penetration, erotic romance, paranormal, shape-shifter

Purchase Links:

AMAZON UK: http://amzn.eu/d/axxgQwl

AMAZON US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07LGBCM7C

EVERNIGHT: https://www.evernightpublishing.com/his-to-protect-by-maia-dylan/

BOOKSTRAND: https://www.bookstrand.com/his-to-protect-mm

*****

EXCERPT:

Kaea moved a little beneath him, and Xavier had to bite back a groan as his hips nestled a little closer to his.

“Do you—wait, am I naked?” Kaea asked incredulously, and Xavier couldn’t hold back a grin.

“That you are, my lovely. You were damp and dirty from being out in the forest and trying to kill me. I couldn’t very well pop you into bed like that, now could I?”

Kaea frowned as he leaned slightly to the side and looked at Xavier lying on top of him. “And you’re naked because…”

“I was in the shower.” Xavier shrugged. “Again, not somewhere where clothes are necessarily all that helpful. I came out of the bathroom when you woke up. Didn’t have time to go throw any clothes on.”

Kaea nodded, and a delicious red heat swept over the dark skin of his cheeks. “That makes sense, but you could let me go, get up and throw some clothes on now that I no longer want to hurt you, right?”

“But I like it where I am. Do I gotta?” Xavier had never pouted in his life, but he tried in this moment just to have fun with his mate.

Kaea’s laughter was quick and genuine, and had Xavier’s heart doing strange somersaults inside him. “Yes, you do. Come on, it’s very distracting having you lying on top of me.”

Xavier grinned, and knew it was just as wicked as he felt. “I love that you find me distracting, love, because the feeling is most definitely mutual.” Kaea’s eyes darkened, and Xavier knew he liked that particular revelation. “But, you’re right. I’m hungry, and healing this gunshot wound I seemed to have acquired recently has taken a lot of energy.”

Xavier pushed up from the bed, and grinned when he watched Kaea’s gaze wander down his abdomen, but shot back to the puckered scar of the wound on his shoulder. “Crap. Did I apologize for shooting you?”

Xavier resettled the towel around his hips. “No, you did not, and that was very remiss of you. I’ll expect you to make that up to me very soon. Repeatedly.”

Kaea’s soft laughter followed him as he stepped toward the back of the room where he’d put his bag. He grabbed a pair of sweats and pulled them on under the towel, then dropped it to the floor. He turned back toward the bed and laughed himself when he saw Kaea up on his elbows as if to get a better view.

“See something you might like, love?”

Kaea grinned at him, and Xavier could have sworn he felt his heart stutter in his chest. “Maybe, but I’m not a man who gives all his secrets away when he’s just met a man. I prefer a slow build up to a quick flash that’s over too damn soon.” Xavier scowled. “What’s put that look on your face?”

“I don’t like to think of you with other men.” Xavier heard the possessiveness in his own tone, but wouldn’t apologize for it. He was a dominant Alpha bear, and one who did not play well with others. Kaea needed to know and understand that. “I don’t share. You’re mine.”

Kaea arched a sardonic brow in his direction, and it irritated and aroused him at the same time. “Yours?” Xavier could practically feel the temperature in the room fall. “I don’t remember ever being asked if I’d be yours, or even if I wanted you. You presume too much.”

Xavier growled, his anger rising within him. “It’s not a presumption when I could feel your fucking arousal just as sure as you could feel mine, Kaea.”

© MAIA DYLAN, EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING, 2018

*****

ALL ABOUT MAIA DYLAN

Mother, wife, author, and all around crazy…

I write the kind of books that I love to read. Love stories between strong men and their independent soulmates. Usually, their path to Happily Ever After is a bumpy one, but there is always a Happy Ever After.

In the world’s I create there is someone (or two, or three) for everyone! Love comes in many forms and I believe it is all beautiful and should be celebrated!

I live, love and write in New Zealand, married to my husband of fifteen years with two beautiful children who I truly believe were sent as a blessing, but sometimes to try my patience, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!

Social Media Links

Publishers Author Page: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/maia-dylan/

Amazon Authors Page US: http://amazon.com/author/maiadylan

Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/maiadylanauthor

Facebook Author page: https://facebook.com/authormaiadylan

Street Team FB Page – https://www.facebook.com/groups/smestreetteam

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13724210.Maia_Dylan

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Website – http://www.maiadylan.com

Blog – http://www.maiadylan.com/#!blog/c112v

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Newsletter sign up link: http://www.maiadylan.com/#!contact/c1kcz

Snowflake Wine by Elodie Parkes (@elodieparkes)

by Lucy Felthouse | Dec 14, 2018 | Guest Bloggers | 1 Comment

Thank you for inviting me to your blog with new release, MM romance, Snowflake Wine.

The story is contemporary gay romance with an edge of fantasy, especially written as a sweet but sexy Christmas treat.

Jamie Snow and Nathan Bloom, my characters are as usual, dear to me.

Jamie has battled all his life with his strange, fantastic gift. His is the character that brings the element of fantasy to the story. The inspiration behind the creation of this character came, weirdly enough, in the summer, when I visited a ruined abbey. In the grounds were flowering shrubs that I’d never encountered before. From a distance, the flowers looked like frost, and as I drew close, into my mind came the idea of Jamie, a sprite who loves cold, ice, frost, and to comfort himself in the warm weather, he decorated the shrubs with frost flowers.

Nathan Bloom is the perfect partner for Jamie—gorgeous, calm, loving and open. He’s looking for love. He’s onto Jamie’s gifts long before he lets Jamie know it. This is a love story—romantic, sexy, hopeful.

*****

Blurb

Hunky Nathan Bloom works late for the company putting up the town Christmas lights and decorations.

Gorgeous, enigmatic, Jamie Snow works late forecasting the weather from his desk in the meteorology office.

Nathan sighs over the prospect of a holiday season with no one to love.

Jamie wonders if he’ll ever find a man to love who will accept his mysterious origins and talents.

One cold night, as Nathan finishes hoisting the wreath lights up the building where Jamie works, they meet.

The brilliant festive lights aren’t the only things to sparkle as the two men connect on a deep level.

Be delighted by a delicious, contemporary, gay romance with an edge of fantasy this season.

Sometimes being different is awesome.

BUY the BOOK: http://mybook.to/SnowflakeWine

*****

Read a teaser:

Jamie Snow sat alongside Nathan. He glanced across at the man who stirred his frosty heart. He’s so attractive. Jamie hadn’t loved in a long time. He felt more than ready for it—longed for it on lonely nights. He wasn’t about to give up on the chance that this man might want a lover, that he was gay wasn’t in question. No straight guy looked the way he had at another man.

“My name’s Jamie, Jamie Snow.” He softened his voice as he spoke. The man beside him inspired tenderness and he felt a little prick of guilt. Using the weather to flirt with him had been inspired but maybe a little naughty.

Nathan drove the truck into a wide car lot that Jamie hadn’t known existed behind the furniture store on the end of the main street. “Here we are. The store allows us to leave the bigger rigs here every year. Jamie Snow—that’s an interesting name for a meteorologist—mine’s Nathan Bloom.”

Jamie’s smile infused his tone. “Yes. People tease me sometimes at work, they’ll know we’ve forecast it and as I walk by they’ll say, ‘here comes the snow,’ but I don’t mind. I like this name.”

“You’ve had others?” Nathan asked with a laugh.

Jamie didn’t want to reply. He waited. I won’t be lying to this lovely guy if I don’t answer.

Nathan turned off the truck engine and twisted to talk to Jamie. “It’s a cool name. Where do you live?”

It appeared he’d forgotten his question.

Happiness trickled into Jamie’s soul that the attractive man beside him liked his name, and used the word, cool. Eagerly, Jamie told Nathan his address on the outskirts of the town.

Nathan grinned, his eyes reflecting Jamie’s emotion. “I know it well. I live a couple of streets south from there.”

Copyright Elodie Parkes, 2018, Encompass Ink

*****

About Elodie

I’m a writer who is in love with happy endings, currently based in southern UK. I write for Evernight Publishing, Siren, Hot Ink Press, Encompass Ink, and eXtasy Books.

I love music, art, flowers, trees, the ocean. I work with antiques by day and words by night. Like a vampire, darkness is my friend, that’s when the silence is only broken by an occasional hoot of owls in the woodlands opposite my home, and I write.

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Destiny Happened by London Saint James

by Lucy Felthouse | Dec 11, 2018 | Guest Bloggers | 1 Comment

Blurb:

Desi

Of course, I noticed Mr. Shirtless. With a bod like his, who wouldn’t? But his hot-factor didn’t matter. What did? My asshat ex and the need to make him jealous. So, I strolled up to the panty-melting stranger as though I knew him and laid one on him, hoping said asshat would see I’d moved on just fine without him. Only, he never saw me kissing another man.

Kash

I spotted her—honey-blonde hair gleaming in the sun as she came my way. I’d flirt. Smile. Maybe get her number. I sure the hell didn’t expect her to toss her arms around my neck, mashing her body against mine, and kiss the ever-loving shit out of me. Then, she stopped. Stepped back. Blushed. Whispered “Sorry” and blended into the crowd. I never got her name that day. Or her number. However, fate had other plans and Destiny happened…again.

Available from: Amazon UK | Amazon US | Books2read | Smashwords

*****

Excerpt

Kash

Pops quickly flipped a line of sizzling sausages with his heavy-duty tongs as I carried an oversized cooler past him. “Those better be more brats for the grill since these babies are sellin’ out fast.”

“I wouldn’t leave you hanging, old man,” I said, sliding the container next to the boxes I’d placed under the canopy a few minutes earlier.

He bobbed his head. “Know it.”

There was affection and perhaps a little pride in my papaw’s tone.

“I’ve got another couple of coolers to bring over, so we should have enough brats to get us through the rest of the day.”

While having a food booth at Oktoberfest was an annual money-raising activity, allowing us to give a nice sum to a local charity—as well as excellent advertisement for Caldwell Trucking and Repair—hauling stuff to and from our venue and fighting the traffic and crowds wasn’t my favorite thing.

Glancing around I asked, “Where’s Joe?”

“He called a little while ago. He should be here any minute now.”

“You actually answered your cell phone? I’m impressed.”

Pops flipped another bratwurst. “Don’t give me shit, boy.”

“Just happy to see you giving in.” I chuckled. “It’s about time you moved out of the stone age.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, “I miss the good old days when a person wasn’t reachable twenty-four-seven. When my ass isn’t planted in my office chair, then I’m out. No one gets the concept of being away and unavailable anymore. I don’t need to be interrupted all the time.”

I couldn’t help but grin at his usual rage against the machine. Everyone knew if Pops was out of the trucking office, odds were good, speaking to him probably wasn’t happening.

“How about Cray?” I asked.

“Haven’t heard from him.”

“That asshole better not pull another no show. It’s his turn to do clean up.” With a shoulder lift, I swiped sweat from my face onto my damp, gray t-shirt.

I’d much rather work fifteen-hour days at the shop—which, let’s be honest, I did often so I could catch up on the paperwork end—than to deal with the daily vendor set up and nightly clean up.

“You know your brother, Kash.”

Shit… I’d be doing my younger brother’s job later because Crayten would do what he always did—leave me high and dry.

“Yeah, Pops, I do.”

We were only two days into this four-day event, and I wasn’t happy. Adding to my piss poor mood was the damn heat. It might have been October, but it was still hot as hell and even hotter standing behind our commercial-sized stainless steel grill where I would eventually be to give Pops a break. But come on. Four days of organized chaos and three-hundred-thousand festival goers could drive a man to drink. Although, on a positive note, I didn’t have far to go if I wanted to tie one on. The entrance to the beer garden was only a few feet away.

“Hey.” Joe strolled up, man bun in place—hipstered out in his skinny pants, a blue shirt with red suspenders, and a big goofy smile on his bearded face. “Did you catch those bar wenches?”

We did our standard fist bump greeting. “I’ve been too busy hauling shit to notice anyone.”

“Joe”—Pops motioned with his tongs—“I’ll never understand why you want to do that crap to your poor ears.”

That was Pops for you. His grousing way of greeting one of our best mechanics while at the same time giving the guy crap about the shiny black plugs protruding through his lobes.

Joe tugged on his right ear good-naturedly. “All the ladies love my accoutrements.”

“Accoutrements is it?” My papaw snorted. “Fancy.”

“Pops, stop busting Joe’s balls,” I said.

“All right, all right,” he rasped. “Glad you’re here, J.”

“Thanks, Mr. Caldwell. I’m happy to help,” Joe said—humor in his tone. He glanced back at me. “Still have stuff in your truck?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll give you a hand.”

I reached over my shoulder and yanked my shirt up, tugging it up and off my head. “Appreciated. Just give me a sec.”

Balling the cotton material, I swiped the driest section over my sweaty chest and stomach, glad I’d thought to toss a couple of clean t-shirts with our shop logo onto the passenger seat of my pickup that morning. I’d need to put on a fresh one.

A section of the milling crowd parted, and a few whistles snagged my attention. No. The whistles weren’t directed at me. They were for some dark-haired woman who was tossing her hands in the air and shaking her ass.

I’ll admit, she was attractive in a Jennifer Garner kind of way. But the woman next to her, shaking her head and smiling—long, honey-blonde hair gleaming in the sun—was a fucking knockout. A knockout who looked my way. A knockout who stared at me, then glanced past me—eyes narrowing—her porcelain-doll face going serious as she started in my direction.

Maybe it was the way she held herself. The biting of her luscious bottom lip. The gentle sway of those shapely hips. Or maybe it was the hip-hugging jeans and white, scoop-neck, long-sleeved tee showing off all her curves that did it. But she had this combination good-girl-next-door with a hint of wild-in-the-sack vixen vibe going on.

Filthy images of what I could do to muss her up raced through my head at supersonic speed.

I was ready to give her my best smile. Flirt a little. Maybe get her phone number. And I was just about to do all of that when without hesitation she stepped up to me, popped up on her tiptoes, tossed her arms around my neck, pressed those soft, full tits into my hard chest and smashed her plush, pink lips against mine.

All right. I’d had my fair share of women hit on me, and do that shit hard, but a woman literally throwing herself against me and taking charge without so much as a hello? Well, that was a first. When it came to the fairer sex, I took the lead. Regardless, though, I wasn’t stopping her. In fact, screw introductions. I didn’t need any.

Groaning, my right hand grabbed the back of her neck—fingers tangling into the strands of her silky hair. My other hand, still holding my wet shirt, went to her ass and pulled her even tighter into me.

She made a little mew of sound which turned into a throaty moan—her smaller frame melting into me as I plunged my tongue into her mouth, tasting an explosion of cool mint and womanly desire.

Yeah. I was full-on frenching someone I didn’t know—deep penetration style—while in front of Pops, Joe, and the entire swell of weekenders at Oktoberfest.

Obviously, I didn’t care.

Both my brain and body agreed. It was time to get down and dirty. This became apparent when all the blood I possessed rushed to my dick, and I ground myself into her pelvis. It didn’t matter where we were. It didn’t matter the woman in my arms was a stranger. Nothing in the world did but the feel, smell, and taste of her.

I needed more. More touching, tasting…just more.

Awareness seeped into my ‘need woman now’ mindset when she let go of me and pressed a palm to my bare shoulder, attempting to push me away.

Definitely get her number became the thought overtaking me as she stopped our rigorous game of tonsil hockey and stepped back, breaking my hold.

Staring down into the most exquisite pair of navy-blue eyes, I was struck mute. That was new as well. I’d never before been tongue-tied over a woman. Not only was I silent, but it also seemed I lost my ability to move.

Part of me understood I probably looked like a complete dumbfuck, standing there in front of our booth with a raging hard-on, shirtless, and goddamned speechless, but I just couldn’t pull my gaze from her.

A rosy hue started at her chest, crawled up her neck, and swept across her cheeks. She placed her fingertips on her kiss-swollen lips, whispered “Sorry,” spun around, and took off like the devil and all his minions were on her trail.

Her leaving so abruptly snapped me out of my stupor, and all my faculties crashed back in place with a jolt to my system. Rebooting me.

“Hey! Wait!” I called out, reaching. “Don’t go. What’s your name?”

All I caught was thin air and a peek of her shoulder as she blended into the crowd.

*****

About the Author

London Saint James has lived in many places but never felt ‘at home’ until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.

As an award-winning, international bestselling author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.

A complete list of London’s books can be found on her website http://www.londonsaintjames.com. You can also e-mail London with any questions or comments at London@londonsaintjames.com. She loves to hear from her readers.

Would you like to know more? Join her mailing list for her monthly newsletter http://eepurl.com/6P2on. Or, join her book group on Facebook, Slip Between the Pages with London https://www.facebook.com/groups/SlipBetweenthePageswithLondon/

Follow London at the following locations:

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/london-saint-james

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Don’t Hold Back (Darkest Desires #2) by Lynn Burke (@AuthorLynnBurke) #Contemporary #Erotic #Romance #Series #HEA

by Lucy Felthouse | Dec 6, 2018 | Guest Bloggers | 0 Comments

BLURB:

Kelly Sadel has lived her life by a feels-o-meter since showing emotion as a kid was a big no-no. A timid analyst and fur baby momma, she avoids anything that stirs up her boring life. Secretly, she crushes on the man who rides the elevator with her every morning—he’s a unicorn amidst an office full of conservative short-hairs. He also sets her nerves on edge, topping her feels-o’meter to the limit, an oh-no in her carefully constructed world.

Accidentally dumping a box of cupcakes on his loafers grabs his unwanted attention, and he isn’t too quick to let go.

Jamison Byrne has worked his way through the submissives at Monique’s club hoping to find his own little subbie. He wants a collared sub, a woman to enjoy mutual pleasure his ropes bring without getting emotionally involved beyond scening.

Manipulation comes easy from years of life beneath a narcissistic asshole’s thumb, and Jamison finally gets Kelly to relent—but with her only agreeing to be friends. Jamison sweeps in but finds his feet swept beneath him as her nurturing nature opens him in ways he never expected. Sure he has found his “person,” he needs to find a way to share his darker desires and get Kelly to stop holding back and feel. He knows he can set her free, but does she want him to? Can he help her find the courage to face the emotions that come with submitting her body—and heart?

PURCHASE LINKS:

Books2Read: https://books2read.com/u/bWzJXD

Changeling Press: www.changelingpress.com/don-t-hold-back-darkest-desires-3-b-2793

Amazon: www.amazon.com/dp/B07KG91XYM

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07KG91XYM

B&N: www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dont-hold-back-lynn-burke/1129857231

Kobo: www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/don-t-hold-back-2

iTunes: itunes.apple.com/us/book/dont-hold-back/id1442235333

*****

EXCERPT:

He leaned down, close enough my breath caught, and we stopped moving with the music. “Give me the green light, Kelly.”

Mind blank, I blinked.

“If you don’t say no right now, I’m going to kiss you.”

“Yes,” I heard myself whisper. He must have read my lips because there’s no way he heard my voice above the band.

Jamison brushed his lips across mine, and everything but the thump of my heart faded to silence. Gentle sweeps of his soft mouth liquefied my bones, and I sagged against his hard chest.

One hand pulled me flush against him as the other cradled my nape, and oh, lordy, did I hang onto his shirt for dear life. He licked along the seam of my lips, and I opened, trembling and near weeping at the pure deliciousness of his kiss. His breath. His clasp on my neck—tender yet…dominant in his hold.

Wintergreen swarmed my senses along with the flavor of his mouth, the sweet, underlying taste of Jamison, and while my body was more than ready to be ravished, the feeling only intensified as the hardness trapped in his jeans pressed against my belly.

Gone. No other word for it. Caught up in a maelstrom of feeling easily topping a ten, I didn’t know what to do or think. Unable to even make a rational decision, I rode the wave, letting him lead.

Too soon, much too damn soon, he pulled back and rested his forehead on mine as we both fought for air. He started swaying again, our bodies still pressed tightly together, his grip on my neck lessening. Eventually, he began soothing his hand down my hair, and I closed my eyes, knowing I’d lost a major battle.

If Jamison asked me to go home with him, I wouldn’t hesitate, the jerk. He hadn’t gotten into my panties, but he sure as hell weaseled his way to the brink where I wanted him to reach inside my waistband and blow my damn mind.

He twisted his fist up in my hair and tipped my head back, the slight sting sending a pulse straight down to my pussy. The intensity in his dark eyes sent another rush of moisture between my thighs. My mind whispered yes to whatever question he planned on tossing out, my body so on board I wanted to cry.

“Dinner?”

What was up with me and the damn blinking? Simple idiot… He had to think that of me.

“Do you want to get some dinner?” he asked again, his lips quirking in a smirk.

I wanted to press against his hard-on and tell him I’d have a dose of that for dinner, but… I’m no notch. “Sure,” I managed.

*****

ABOUT LYNN BURKE:

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

Website: https://www.authorlynnburke.com/

Blog: http://authorlynnburke.blogspot.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author-Lynn-Burke-555282497937461/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorLynnBurke

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorlynnburke/

Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/authorlynnburke

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/lynn-burke