Posted in #Book, #Giveaway, Adult, Author, blog, Book, MC, Romance, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, Tour, Writer

Grayson by Crimson Syn – Book Tour + #Giveaway

22/06/17

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Grayson
A Hell’s Lovers MC Romance #2
by Crimson Syn
Genre: Adult MC Romance
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She’s a wildcat in bed and she’s driving me insane!
Ever since that first night I can’t get enough of Rahyne Andrews.
Her kisses, her body, her moans, drive me crazy. I can’t seem to say no to her.
My only problem is, that she doesn’t seem to be interested in more than my body.
And I’m not about to have my control taken away from me.
She either bends to my will, or I’m walking.
Grayson Carter is everything I ever dreamed of and more.
He’s built like a rock and knows how to satisfy my every need.
But the last thing I want is to have another failed relationship.
Especially, when it involves a member of the Hell’s Lovers.
I’m the one in control, I’m always in control…
So why is it that Grayson Carter is the only man who has ever made me
beg for more.
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gr- excerpt
**

It was late when I entered my apartment. I sank down on the couch and stared out into the city. I lived in a high rise in downtown L.A., it offered a good view and it was near the club, I also owned the building. I had a few investments, mostly in stocks, so I did well for myself. I didn’t really have any family or anyone I truly cared about, except for Wolf and most recently, Scarlett. I used to do security for the military, and after retiring, Wolf gave me a place to stay and opened his doors for me. I was glad to have someone like Wolf. He’d been a good friend throughout the years. When he took over as President, he immediately named me VP, and it’s been that way for the last five years. The brotherhood was my refuge and although we didn’t voice it, we were a pretty tight knit family.

I stood up and went to grab a beer. I headed down the hall to my bedroom, where an empty bed awaited me. Usually it didn’t bother me, but lately I’d been yearning for a warm body to press up against. Specifically, a voluptuous blonde, with eyes the color of emeralds. My cock stirred and I sighed as I took a swig of my beer and sat at the edge of the bed.

Images of Rahyne spread out on my mattress kept flooding through my mind and they had been non-stop lately. It didn’t matter where I was or who I was with, I couldn’t get the temptress out of my head. It was starting to worry me.

I never even thought of settling down. I lived my life peacefully, went where I wanted, fucked who I wanted, and didn’t give a shit about anything. But with Rahyne…fuck, I thought my urgency to have her was just an infatuation-something that would go away in a matter of weeks. Six months later, and my body still craved hers, more now than ever before. Running my hands through my hair I fought my desire to go looking for her and I gulped down my beer.

Lying back on the bed I let her image envelop me and I pulled out my shaft-hard as a rock as usual-and stroked myself, remembering the sound of her sweet whispers, and the moans and whimpers I heard on an almost daily basis. I groaned, imagining the wonderful feeling of her tight pussy hugging my swollen member. Remembering the way she shouted my name, and how her body gripped me, made me jerk off harder. Knowing I could manipulate her body to such extremes had me grunting my release as streams of white fluid leapt out and landed on my stomach. I breathed out and splayed my arms on the mattress. Closing my eyes, I imagined her by my side, and the only thought that came to my mind, before I drifted off, was that I was going to make her mine.


**
**
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Wolf
A Hell’s Lovers MC Romance #1
**
**
Scarlett Chase is every man’s wet dream.
As soon as I laid eyes on her, I knew she’d be mine.
That is, until I found out she was untouchable.
One kiss, one forbidden touch, will have me out on the streets and
stripped of who I am.
Yet I want her. I need her. And I’m done following all these damn
rules.
Wolf Stone is my obsession.
Ever since he pulled over on that empty road, I’ve been tormented by the man.
His possessive words and heated looks have me tightly wound.
One touch, and he lights me on fire.
But I want more.
I not only want him in my bed, I want to keep him for myself.
But he won’t budge, and now it’s up to me to entice his sleeping
wolf.
**
gr- excerpt
**

“Wolf.” I breathed, dragging my hands along his tussled hair.

I felt the hot slickness of his tongue lick me from the base of my shoulder up along the curve of my neck. He stopped briefly before nipping my earlobe and I nearly came, right then and there.

“You taste so goddamn good.” He whispered.

I gripped his hair and whimpered. “Don’t stop, Wolf. Please, don’t stop.”

My words seemed to snap him out of his trance and he stepped away from me. I glided down the wall and a feeling of emptiness surrounded me as he moved away.

My hands reached for him, but he turned away. I could tell his breathing was labored, and he was just as, or even more affected by this, than I was. I reached out and touched his back and I suddenly found myself pressed once more against the wall. My body arched like a cat in heat, trying to bring every inch of him against me. The movement was futile as he gripped me by the shoulders and half shook me awake from my lust filled moment.

“Stop it. Stop, Scarlett. I won’t be able to do this if you don’t stop.” He pressed his forehead against mine and ran his hands down my arms, gripping my hips. His mouth said one thing, but his hands wouldn’t stop touching me. “Stop. Please.”

My body stilled at his request, but it remained thrumming alongside his.

“Don’t stop, Wolf. Please. Please, don’t do this.”

He dragged his rough jaw against my cheek and breathed in. “I can’t. I just can’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut, almost as if it hurt. He waited a few minutes, hid body vibrated against mine, and his hands continued to hold me. “I won’t have you wandering down here. You need to leave.”

“What?” I whispered.

He gripped my waist tightly. “I want you to leave, Scarlett. You don’t belong here!”

I rubbed my hands across the muscles of his chest and his breath hitched. “I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here. With you.”

He growled and leaned his body into mine. “Me too, gorgeous. Oh God, me too.”

**
**
**
**
My name is Crimson Syn, not really, but what fun is it to use my real
name. Instead I’ll use my inner goddess’ name, it’s much
more fun that way. I grew up in New York City where I had a wonderful
education, loving parents and awesome friends. What more could a girl
ask for?
I started writing at the age of
sixteen. The first romance I read was Stephanie Laurens’ Devil’s
Bride. Since then I have been influenced by dozens of flourishing
romance authors and even more dashing and daring rogues. I must say
it, but Fifty Shades was not my first erotic romance, nor did it
influence me to start writing them. If you’ve never read Mary
Balogh, Elizabeth Hoyt, Lisa Kleypas, Bertrice Small or A.N.
Roquelaure’s Sleeping Beauty trilogy, then you’re missing out.
Those were my sweet introductions to erotic romance, and boy were
they hot.
So here I am, after reading so many wonderful stories, I have too many
sinful tales of my own not to share. I like my alphas rough and
possessive, and I have no shame in saying it or writing it. I had
delightfully wicked teachers growing up, their books took me to new
worlds and brought me new loves. So, I want to do the same for you. I
want to indulge my readers in those steamy reads that will send them
into the arms of dangerous alphas and deliciously sexy rogues,
without leaving the confines of their nice warm bed. If I am able to
entice your inner goddesses, then I have done my job and I am
satisfied.
**
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Follow the tour HERE
for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!
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Posted in #Book, #Giveaway, Adult, Author, blog, Book, Dark, Fiction, Giveaway, Romance, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, Tour, Writer

Crow City by Cole McCade – Book Tour + #Giveaway

05/04/17

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The Lost
Crow City #1
by Cole McCade
Genre: Dark Adult Romance
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The first book in the new Cole McCade: After Dark erotica imprint; a
darkly haunting erotica with the taboo appeal of V.C. Andrews.
“If the romantic character study is a genre, this fascinating
contemporary novel is its exemplar.” – Publishers Weekly
There’s something wrong with Leigh.
She’s known it her whole life. She knows it every time she spreads her
legs. Every time she begs for the pain, the pleasure, the heat of a
hard man driving deep inside. She’s a slave to her own twisted
lusts–and it’s eating her alive. She loves it. She craves it. Sex is
her drug, and she’s always chasing her next fix. But nothing can
satisfy her addiction, not even the nameless men she uses and tosses
aside. No one’s ever given her what she truly needs.
Until Gabriel Hart.
Cold. Controlled. Impenetrable. Ex-Marine Gabriel Hart isn’t the kind of
man to come running when Leigh crooks her pretty little finger. She
loathes him. She hungers for him. He’s the only one who understands
how broken she is, and just what it takes to satisfy the emptiness
inside. But Gabriel won’t settle for just one night. He wants to
claim her, keep her, make her forever his. Together they are the
lost, the ruined, the darkness at the heart of Crow City.
But Leigh has a darkness of her own. A predator stalking through her
past–one she’ll do anything to escape.
Even if it means running from the one man who could love her…and leaving
behind something more precious to her than life itself.
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The Fallen
Crow City 1.5
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Reconnect with Gabriel, Gary, Maxi, and Crow City in this companion novella
telling the story of THE LOST‘s Gabriel Hart before Leigh entered
his life – and get a sneak preview of the sinister Priest, hero of
THE FOUND.
Gabriel Hart is a broken man.
And everyone close to him dies.
His military unit. His sister. His parents. Everyone he’s come to care
for has been taken from him, leaving him with nothing but a crippling
war injury, a Vicodin addiction, and a scraggly, chewed-up rag of a
cat. It’s enough to make anyone want to check out. And when he
holds his service pistol in his hand and presses it against his
temple, for the first time in a long time the world feels right.
But he’s not as alone as he thinks. And when grizzled bar owner Gary
challenges him to honor his sister’s memory by repairing her
houseboat before he gives up on life, he discovers she left more for
him than her belongings. And her letters lead him on a trail through
discovering himself, discovering what he truly wants…and
discovering that he has the strength to choose his own path.
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The Found
Crow City #2
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Witness to a murder. Kidnapped by a monster. Life hanging on a whim. Willow
Armitage’s world was already falling apart; between getting fired
and caring for her chronically ill father, she’s had little room
for anything but survival. But that survival hangs in the balance the
night she stumbles into a back alley – and watches a stranger die
at the hands of the most beautiful man she’s ever seen.
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The Saved
Crow City #2.5
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For it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul. – Leviticus
17:11
Before he was a mysterious, silent killer stalking the streets of Crow City,
the strange man known as Priest (THE FOUND, Crow City #2) was a lost
and broken soul—and part of Willow Armitage’s world in ways she
could never have imagined. Shattered by the Afghanistan War, left
with no companions other than fellow survivor Gabriel Hart (THE LOST,
Crow City #1), ex-Marine Priest turns to his lost faith for answers
when his life has lost all meaning…but in searching for his God, he
finds a new religion. A religion of blood. Of pain.
Of vengeance.
And from that religion rises a mission to replace everything he had lost,
to set right just a few of the small wrongs in the world…and to
ease the constant bleeding of his broken heart, filled with sins
without number.
Revisit Crow City and meet Priest as he was before the fateful night that
brought him into Willow’s life…and reconnect with beloved names
and faces as we discover what—and who—set him on his dark and
merciless path.
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Autumn
Crow City #2.75
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There are worse things in life than loving a man who hates you.
Unfortunately, Walford Gallifrey can’t think of many.
Ever since a ghost from his past kidnapped his niece, Willow (THE FOUND,
Crow City #2), Wally’s life has been nothing but grief, turmoil,
and loss. With no idea if Willow is dead or alive, Wally’s only
comfort is in caring for his grieving brother-in-law and Willow’s
father, Joseph Armitage. For the past twenty years, Wally has never
hoped to be anything but the backdrop to Joseph’s life; between
marrying Wally’s sister and decades of mistakes building walls of
enmity and resentment between them, Joseph has been firmly cemented
in Wally’s mind as unattainable.
But the pain of Willow’s loss forces them to face the demons sleeping
between them, find common ground—and more. Together, they explore
mutual grief. Shared memories. Quiet respect. Warmth. Camaraderie.
The joy of learning to live again.
And an unspoken attraction, buried beneath the scars of hurtful words and
terrible missteps.
Yet even as they work through the thorns and tangles of old wounds,
Joseph has his own struggles to face. The struggle to leave his
ex-wife in the past. To let his daughter go. And to trust Wally to
love him, to see him as more than just his multiple sclerosis, when
so many have treated him as less than a man. The only way forward for
them both is forgiveness. Trust.
And a second chance to discover what it means, to truly be in love.
Note:
This novel, while a standalone, follows in the aftermath of the
events of THE FOUND (Crow City #2), and ties in to the events of THE
SAVED (Crow City #2.5), which detail–respectively–the events of
Willow’s kidnapping and Walford’s prior relationship with her
kidnapper, Vincent Manion.
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Slender. Angry. (Part) Asian.
Yeah, that about sums me up.
Hi. I’m Cole. Xen. Whatever you want to call me; both are true, and
both are lies. My pen names are multitudes, my nicknames legion.
Tall, bi/queer, introverted, author, and of a brown-ish persuasion
made up of various flavors of Black, Asian, and Native American. I’m
cuter than Hello Kitty, more bitter than the blackest coffee, and
able to trip over cats in a single half-asleep lurch; I’m what
happens when a Broody Antihero and a Manic Pixie Dream Boy fight to
the death, and someone builds a person from the scraps left behind.
Beardless, I look like the uke in every yaoi manga in existence;
bearded or not, I sound like Barry White. About half my time is spent
as a corporate writer, and the other half riding a train of WTFery
that sometimes results in a finished book. Romance, erotica, sci-fi,
horror, paranormal; LGBTQIA and cishet; diverse settings and diverse
characters from a diverse author.
Sometimes I shout about things on the internet. Usually intersectional feminism
and marginalized voices, and whomever’s punching down in those
directions today. Sometimes human sociology, the psychology of sex
and gender, and my own gender non-conforming arse (he/him, by the
way). Sometimes I get really mad at Stephen Hawking and nerd out all
over the place about hairy black holes, and believe it or not, that’s
not a terrible pun or even worse innuendo.
That’s it. I’m a huge dork. My humor’s so dry it could empty oceans. I’m
a native Southerner from the New Orleans area with zero Southern
accent; I’m a mess of multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, multi-lingual
influences; I have two cats. I wake up at daft hours of the morning
to go running. I crochet terrible, lumpy things that never really
turn into anything. I’m older than you think I look. I’m much
more shy than my fury makes me sound (signifying gods only know what,
but probably nothing). Recently I decided, at 36, that I needed to
restart my life and move cross-country, so I tossed 75% of my
possessions in the trash and randomly trucked it to Seattle. I’m in
love with books and music and technology, and they war with each
other for dominance and sometimes come together in a beautiful
confluence. Most of the physical books I own are strange, obscure,
out of print, overseas imports, or any combination of the four. Most
of the physical books I used to own were destroyed in Hurricane
Katrina, and have been replaced with the infinite library on my Nook.
My wallet has a dangerous attraction to anything with pages; it
flirts and teases and gives its all, until there’s nothing left but
emptiness and ruin.
There will always be things you don’t know, and I won’t tell.
But ask me late at night over live music in a seedy bar, and you might
just get an honest answer.
…or you can poke me via:
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Posted in #Book, #Giveaway, Adult, Author, blog, Book, Fiction, Giveaway, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, Story, Tour, Writer

Wolf by Crimson Syn – Release Tour + #Giveaway

03/04/17

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Wolf
A Hell’s Lovers MC Romance #1
by Crimson Syn
Genre: Adult MC Romance
*
*
Scarlett Chase is every man’s wet dream.
As soon as I laid eyes on her, I knew she’d be mine.
That is, until I found out she was untouchable.
One kiss, one forbidden touch, will have me out on the streets and
stripped of who I am.
Yet I want her. I need her. And I’m done following all these damn
rules.
Wolf Stone is my obsession.
Ever since he pulled over on that empty road, I’ve been tormented by the
man.
His possessive words and heated looks have me tightly wound.
One touch, and he lights me on fire.
But I want more.
I not only want him in my bed, I want to keep him for myself.
But he won’t budge, and now it’s up to me to entice his sleeping
wolf.
*
wolf- excerpt

If there ever existed a true, predatory alpha male, then Wolf Stone was it. The son of a bitch was sinfully hot and he knew it. Arrogant, dominating, and as the leader of Hell’s Lovers, he was ultimately dangerous. So, how the hell did a girl like me get involved with such a dark soul?

I’m his lawyer. His go to girl. The one who gives him all the advice he needs when he’s making any business deal on his club.

I met him a year ago. I was broken down on the side of the road when the revving of a Harley caught my attention. How did I knew it was a Harley, you ask? My Dad. He had one when I was growing up. I’ll never forget the roaring of its engine as it came down the road.

I took my chances and ran out, trying to wave the person down. I regretted it the instant he pulled over. He was tall, broad shouldered, and built. Oh my God, was he built. He was wearing a black leather jacket and dark washed jeans. His boot heels made a distinct clicking sound as he approached me.

“You havin’ troubles?”

His voice had a rich rumble that made me nearly drop to my knees. You may not believe me, but the man dripped sex. He stood there staring at me, looking all male and perfect. I was crazy to be attracted to him, but I couldn’t help it, my body trembled with need at the sight of him. I lost my voice as he took his aviators off. His face wasn’t handsome. It was manly, a rugged jawline, thick lips, and the clearest set of blue eyes that competed with the clearest of skies. He ran a hand through his jet-black locks and I was fixated. The man was about to become my obsession.

“Are you alright?” He asked, and I tried to snap out of my trance. I was grateful for my sunglasses that covered my features as I checked him out.

“Um, I think my radiator blew.”

“Damn.” He mumbled and bent under the hood. He moved around some cables and grimaced. “Yup. Looks like it ruptured. You’re not gonna be going anywhere for a while.”

“Shit.” I ran my hands through my brown wavy hair, which was probably a windblown mess.

He looked at me then and I could feel his eyes trail up my bare legs and pencil skirt, roaming up my shirt and lingering on my breasts. His heated gaze almost made me melt.

“You need a ride?” his voice rumbled as he continued to stare at my body.

I should have been disgusted by his blazen disregard for propriety, but instead I felt my inner core gush with arousal.

Looking down at my outfit, and then at the bike, I realized there was no way this skirt would open wide enough for me to straddle that monster, meaning the bike of course.

He smirked and walked towards me. “I can help you with that.” He pointed at my skirt.

“Oh.” I half breathed as he came up to me. I can smell leather and a woody spice I couldn’t quite decipher, but it was intoxicating.

“I mean…if you want me too.”

“I…I have a meeting in thirty minutes… in the city.”

He stared down at my legs. “Hmmm. I don’t think you’ll like my idea, then.”

“Oh? And what exactly did you have in mind.”

He came closer and I could feel his breath on my forehead. He was tall, at least six feet, and he could easily consume my body. I should have been afraid, but a strange sense of wanting to be near him kept me grounded.

“Ripping that tight little skirt in half.”

I looked up at him then, my eyes had gone wide in disbelief as he stared down at me, that sexy smirk pasted on his face.

“Wh…what!”

He chuckled. “Just the slit, gorgeous. So you could ride.”

My eyebrows shot up, and something along the lines of relief traced with disappointment ran through me. “Oh.”

For being a college graduate and a lawyer, this guy had literally rendered me speechless.

“So, do you want me to rip it?”

His voice was a low vibration that heated my insides to where all I could do was nod. I watched him kneel before me, and images of him lying between my legs made me slightly unsteady. I swayed and placed a hand on his shoulder. His hand shot up to my calf and the electric shock that went through my core had me stifling a groan. What the hell was wrong with me? I was a smart, independent woman. No man had ever had an effect on me like this one did.

“You alright, gorgeous?”

“Y…yes. Sorry, I haven’t eaten.”

“Then let’s put you on that bike and get you somethin’ to eat.”

I felt, more than noticed, that his hand was lingering on my leg. Suddenly he let go and grabbed the edge of my skirt, where the slit split on the side of my thigh. He roughly tugged on it, tearing it apart. An involuntary whimper escaped my lips and I gripped him tighter. He lowered his head for a brief moment and then patted the back of my now naked thigh before standing up.

“All done.”

I nodded, trying to disguise the lust that ran through me, but I could feel myself start blushing. Hoping he would think it was the heat from the sun, I quickly turned around and went to grab my purse. Leaning over the seat I caught a glance of him in the rearview mirror. He was blatantly staring at my ass while I was bent over the seat. I realized my skirt had slightly ridden up and the now, deep slit exposed my full thigh, right up to the seam of my panty line. I had a moment of wanting to entice him, and I did, gently swaying my hips. His reaction drenched my panties. His hand shot up to his bulge as he gave it a hard tug and then he turned around. The freak in me loved it, and feeling confident I locked the car door and walked up to him.

“Ready.” I said, and handed him my briefcase. “Is there a place for this?”

“Yeah. Get on.” He seemed short with me, but I didn’t dare ask why.

He got on the bike and revved the engine up. I stood there, trying to figure out how to sit and then realized I had to scrunch my skirt up to be able to climb on.

“Hop on, gorgeous.”

I stared at him and thought, what the hell. I watched him as I raised my skirt up and his eyebrows shot up. He turned his face forward and I smiled knowingly. Propping one leg over the seat I finally mounted the bike. I was so sensitive that the rumble of the engine and the heat from the seat nearly made me cum. He reached over and gave me a small helmet, then he tapped my knee and I gripped his waist. His scent was driving me crazy and I could feel the muscles in his back stretching as I pressed my chest to it. It was the most arousing ride I had ever been on.

The wind blew through my hair as we rode into the city and I didn’t have a care in the world whether my skirt was torn, or my hair was a mess. I felt a freedom like no other. And best of all, I felt safe. Safe in the arms of this sexy stranger.

*

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My name is Crimson Syn, not really, but what fun is it to use my real
name. Instead I’ll use my inner goddess’ name, it’s much
more fun that way. I grew up in New York City where I had a wonderful
education, loving parents and awesome friends. What more could a girl
ask for?
I started writing at the age of
sixteen. The first romance I read was Stephanie Laurens’ Devil’s
Bride. Since then I have been influenced by dozens of flourishing
romance authors and even more dashing and daring rogues. I must say
it, but Fifty Shades was not my first erotic romance, nor did it
influence me to start writing them. If you’ve never read Mary
Balogh, Elizabeth Hoyt, Lisa Kleypas, Bertrice Small or A.N.
Roquelaure’s Sleeping Beauty trilogy, then you’re missing out.
Those were my sweet introductions to erotic romance, and boy were
they hot.
So here I am, after reading so many wonderful stories, I have too many
sinful tales of my own not to share. I like my alphas rough and
possessive, and I have no shame in saying it or writing it. I had
delightfully wicked teachers growing up, their books took me to new
worlds and brought me new loves. So, I want to do the same for you. I
want to indulge my readers in those steamy reads that will send them
into the arms of dangerous alphas and deliciously sexy rogues,
without leaving the confines of their nice warm bed. If I am able to
entice your inner goddesses, then I have done my job and I am
satisfied.
*
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*
*
*
*
*
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Posted in #Book, #Giveaway, Adult, Author, blog, Book, Fiction, Giveaway, Mystery, Paranormal Suspense, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, Story, Tour, Writer

A Stone’s Throw by Debbie De Louise – Book Tour + #Giveaway

17/03/17

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A Stone’s Throw
Cobble Cove Mysteries Book 1
by Debbie De Louise
Genre: Cozy Mystery, Romantic Suspense
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Widowed librarian Alicia Fairmont needs answers…
After her husband is killed in a hit and run accident, Alicia travels
upstate to his hometown of Cobble Cove, New York, hoping to locate
his estranged family and shed light on his mysterious past.
Anticipating staying only a weekend, her visit is extended when she
accepts a job at the town’s library.
Secrets stretch decades into the past… Assisted by handsome newspaper
publisher and aspiring novelist, John McKinney, Alicia discovers a
connection between her absent in-laws and a secret John’s father
has kept for over sixty years. But her investigation is interrupted
when she receives word her house has burned and arson is suspected,
sending her rushing back to Long Island, accompanied by John.
Back in Cobble Cove, cryptic clues are uncovered…
When Alicia returns, she finds a strange diary, confiscated letters, and a
digital audio device containing a recording made the day her husband
was killed. Anonymous notes warn Alicia to leave town, but she can’t
turn her back on the mystery—or her attraction to John. As the
pieces begin to fall into place, evidence points to John’s
involvement in her husband’s accident.
The past and present threaten to collide, and Alicia confronts her fears…
Has she fallen in love with her husband’s killer?
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Between A Rock and a Hard Place
Cobble Cove Mysteries Book 2
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Librarian Alicia McKinney has put the past behind her…
Two years ago, Alicia discovered both a terrible truth and lasting love
with John McKinney in the small town of Cobble Cove, New York. Now a
busy mother of twin babies and co-author of a mystery series, Alicia
couldn’t be happier.
Alicia’s contentment and safety are challenged…
Walking home alone from the library, Alicia senses someone following her, and
on more than one occasion, she believes she is being watched. Does
she have a stalker? When the local gift shop is burglarized, the
troubling event causes unrest among Alicia and the residents of the
quiet town.

John and Alicia receive an offer they can’t refuse…
When John’s sister offers to babysit while she and John take a
much-needed vacation in New York City, Alicia is reluctant to leave
her children because of the disturbances in Cobble Cove. John assures
her the town is safe in the hands of Sheriff-elect Ramsay. Although
Alicia’s experience with and dislike of the former Long Island
detective don’t alleviate her concern, she and John take their
trip.
Alicia faces her worst nightmare…
The McKinneys’ vacation is cut short when they learn their babies have
been kidnapped and John’s sister shot. Alicia and John’s
situation puts them between a rock and a hard place when the main
suspect is found dead before the ransom is paid. In order to save
their children, the McKinneys race against the clock to solve a
mystery more puzzling than those found in their own books. Can they
do it before time runs out?
 *
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Coming Soon!
*
*
Written In Stone
Cobble Cove Mysteries Book 3
*
Alicia McKinney is confused . . . .

Was the strange email her husband received from the fictional
detective in their mystery series a threat? Did the killer mistake
the woman shot in the library for Alicia or the victim’s twin
sister?

Cat vs. Dog . . .

After Sneaky goes missing from the library, will he turn up before a
young girl becomes ill with worry over his disappearance? And will
he return in time to outsmart Fido by being first to find the
perpetrator’s smoking gun?

Alicia is worried . . .

While waiting for the killer’s next move, Alicia has other concerns.
An old flame of John’s is in town and her friend, Gilly, has adopted
the role of Miss Marple to aid her sheriff boyfriend in his
investigation.

When all clues point to one of her co-workers, Alicia joins Gilly in
searching for the answers to the mystery.

Will they survive . . .

or is their ending written in stone?
*
*
*
Debbie De Louise is an award-winning author and a reference librarian at a
public library on Long Island. She is a member of Sisters-in-Crime,
International Thriller Writers, and the Cat Writer’s Association.
She has a BA in English and an MLS in Library Science from Long
Island University. Her three published novels include Cloudy Rainbow,
A Stone’s Throw, and Between a Rock and a Hard Place (Solstice
Publishing, 2016) that has been on the Amazon bestseller list for
cozy mysteries. Debbie has also written articles and short stories
for several anthologies of various genres. Her third Cobble Cove
mystery, Written in Stone, will be published Spring, 2017. She lives
on Long Island with her husband, daughter, and two cats.
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 stones throw banner
Posted in #Book, Adult, Author, blog, Book, Fiction, Paranormal Romance, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, Story, Tour, Writer

The Ragnarok Prophecies By A.K. Morgen – Book T+ #Giveaway

08/03/17

Fade
The Ragnarok Prophecies Book 1
By A.K. Morgen
Genre: New Adult Paranormal Romance
What do you do when you realize nothing in your life is what you’ve
believed it to be?


When Arionna Jacobs loses her mother in a tragic accident, her world is
turned upside down. She’s forced to leave her old life behind and
move in with her father. Dace Matthews, a teaching assistant at her
new college, is torn in two, unable to communicate with the feral
wolf caged inside him.
When they meet, everything they thought
they knew about life unravels. Dace has intimate access to Arionna’s
mind, and something deep within her fights to rise to the surface.
They don’t understand what’s happening to them or why, and they’re
running out of time to sort out the strange occurrences around them.
Their meeting sets an ancient Norse prophesy of destruction
in motion, and what destiny has in store for them is bigger than
either could have ever imagined. Unless they learn to trust
themselves and one another, they may never resolve the mystery
surrounding who they are to one another, and what that means for the
world.
*
rp-excerpt
*

Arionna.

 

I jumped as his voice sounded clear as bells in my head.

 

What are you doing? His mental voice was too calm. He’d heard my thoughts.

 

My face burned. I was trying to talk to you. I don’t exactly know how to do it, I answered, defensive and mortified. I didn’t mean to share those last thoughts with him, and like so much else, he received them anyway.

 

Again, it just wasn’t fair.

 

I guess it worked. He sounded amused, though his tone seemed darker than usual, like when he kissed me. I stored that knowledge away for future use.

 

I don’t know where Chelle lives.

 

You could have called.

 

Why? You never call me.

 

Would you like me to call you?

 

No. I had his attention now. Why bother with the phone? It didn’t make sense. Still, would it kill him to pick up the phone once in a while, like normal people did, instead of always leaving me to do the calling?

 

I’m not normal people, Arionna.

 

How could one boy be so clueless?

 

Oh, forget it. Where does Chelle live?

*

FADE is available from Curiosity Quills Press at Amazon
Add to your TBR list on Goodreads.
 *
*
Fall
*
Ragnarok Prophecies Book 2
*
How do you save someone who doesn’t want to be saved?
Those called to stand guard against the end are broken, and Sköll and Hati
run free. Now Arionna Jacobs and Dace Matthews face a threat unlike
any before. Ragnarök is coming and they aren’t strong enough to stop
it.
Arionna thought she understood sacrifice, but she never counted on her
destiny tearing Dace apart. Ever since she nearly died, he has been
consumed with guilt. Now it threatens to turn him into the monster he
always feared.
It’s up to Arionna to stop him before it’s too late, but the path to hell
is paved with good intentions, and Dace is hurtling toward
self-destruction. This time, Arionna isn’t sure she can save him from
himself. Can she convince him to let the past go, or is her true
destiny to sacrifice her heart in exchange for the lives of the
people she loves?
rp-excerpt
*

I stood alone in a shadowy cavern, my legs trembling.

 

Ancient torches flickered around me, so brittle they looked as if a single touch would destroy them. Massive boulders shot upward in the eerie, inky light, standing like endless mountains barring my way. My gaze bounced across round and jagged alike, trying to pick out where one ended and the others began. I couldn’t tell the difference, though.

 

My attention drifted and skittered around the cavern, focusing everywhere except on what waited for me beyond the thick fingers of solid earth standing like the bars of a prison ahead. Soft, ominous rumbles sounded from that direction, so deep the cavern floor vibrated beneath my feet.

 

Run, Arionna. Run.

 

I fought to listen to the voice of reason urging me to flee for my life, but I couldn’t seem to keep my legs locked in place. The compulsion to move, to look, to see, was too strong.

 

I took a step forward, then another, slipping through narrow cracks between one rock and the next.

The rough surface scraped against my arms and tugged at my hair, pulling small strands away from my scalp. I kept moving though, squeezing between narrow openings until the craggy ground gave way, ending suddenly at a frothy river.

 

I glanced across the foamy water.

 

My lungs stopped functioning.

 

The endless spread of boulders scattered all around were tiny pebbles compared to the solitary mass of earth on the far side of the underground channel. A chain wound around and through the mountainous rock, so thin it was almost invisible to the eye.

 

I ran my gaze across the shimmering links, checking to ensure the magic bond still held firm.

 

It did.

 

Air shuddered into my lungs.

 

Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid, I chanted to myself, but when I turned my head, my heart pounded uncomfortably anyway.

 

I bit my lip to keep from crying out when my gaze landed on the monstrous black wolf lunging against the tiny chain. Foam ran in buckets down his chest and into the river around him, as if his hatred cut a canyon of desiccation through the rock like a knife through butter. He towered over me, taller and wider than any wolf I’d ever seen. He was a giant. A Titan.

 

Fenrir.

 

I shivered at the sound of his name echoing in my head.

 

He gnashed his razor-sharp teeth and roared, struggling against the chain binding him to earth. The sound echoed throughout the massive cavern, bouncing from rock to rock in the same deep, ominous rumble I heard earlier.

 

Pebbles showered down from overhead, falling to the dirt floor all around.

 

Fenrir shook them off, then tried to leap.

 

The chain stretched taut, groaning in protest, but it held firm.

 

Fenrir hit the ground―hard―and was up again in an instant.

 

He coiled, crouching as if preparing to spring again, then twitched.

 

He stilled, not even his chest moving when he drew breath. Sanity flickered in his gaze for a brief moment, burning away the obsessive rage pouring from him. What swept through those yellow eyes in its place was far worse: intelligence.

 

Fenrir knew his prison would not hold him forever. Eventually, he would break free.

 

Not today. Please, not today, I pleaded, hoping someone in charge heard me.

 

Fenrir sniffed the air.

 

I stopped breathing, praying he didn’t see me standing amongst the rocks.

 

He turned his head slowly in my direction, one ear twitching.

 

His rage-filled gaze met mine and held. Recognition flared in his baleful eyes.

 

I trembled, trapped in his sights like a prisoner, unable to move. The wolf sharing my soul snarled, trying to shake herself free of the thrall freezing me in place. She was too weak to do more than flutter and twist inside me though.

 

Fenrir’s lip curled in a menacing snarl as he looked into me, looked through me, and saw everything I was and everything connecting me to him. For a moment, no more than a split second really, he looked pleased. As if he knew his wait was almost over.

 

And then rage blazed to life in his eyes again, wiping away recognition and replacing it with burning, poisonous hate.

 

He growled low in his throat, the sound that of a gathering storm.

 

The cavern floor vibrated beneath my feet again.

 

Pebbles showered down, striking my arms, my legs… my face. Each hit stung and burned.

 

The river of foam at my feet churned across the rocks like mini-tidal waves.

Dust filled the air in thick puffs, choking me.

 

Fenrir dove toward me, howling.

*

FALL The Ragnarök Prophesies: Book Two
*
is available at
Amazon
and
Barnes
and Noble
.
*
You can add it to your TBR list on Goodreads here.
 *
*
Flame
*
The Ragnarok Prophecies Book 3
*
*
Who do you trust when betrayal threatens to destroy everything you hold
dear?


*
When Arionna Jacobs fled town in a desperate bid to save Dace Matthews,
she never expected the chaos she would leave in her wake. Now her
closest friend is dead, and another is missing, forcing Ari to return
to face the devastating consequences of her actions and the broken
boy she left behind.
Her problems are only just beginning.

 

Even as her bond with Dace grows stronger,
Arionna finds herself weakening when Freki’s cage shatters. Fighting
the wolf for control is tearing her apart piece by piece. And at
every turn, she finds that those she’s put her faith in aren’t who
they seem, bringing her face to face with Sköll and Hati. As the
depth of their betrayal is revealed, Freki spirals out of control,
and Arionna must face her greatest fear: losing herself to the fierce
wolf within.

 

The world balances on the edge of a blade, and one wrong move will destroy it all.

 

With few allies she can trust and little choice left, Arionna must decide between the
lives of her friends and her own future with the alpha she loves.
Will she be able to stand firm for the sake of the world, or will she
falter in the face of defeat?
*
rp-excerpt
*

“Arionna, dammit, wake up.”

 

Unseen hands gripped my upper arms, shaking me. A familiar voice called my name over and over. Furious howls ripped through the air.

 

None of those sounds made sense to me.

 

I felt different, like I’d been taken apart and put back together in the wrong order. Everything hurt. My body ached, muscles locked tight in protest. My head throbbed. Each painful pulse rattled against my skull, sending ripples down my neck and into my back.

 

I groaned and rolled onto my side.

 

The hands shaking me relaxed.

 

I fought to open my eyes, then blinked, confused. Worn brown carpet scratched against the side of my face. The bottom edge of a pale blue bed-sham fluttered inches from me. Dust bunnies and small pieces of plastic were strewn beneath the sagging bed. A table and two chairs were grouped on the other side. A crack ran up the leg of one chair, splitting the wood.

 

None of the room looked familiar.

 

Where am I?

 

The voice calling my name stopped mid-shout and sighed.

 

Oh, thank god, he said.

 

For what? I wondered, marveling that the words came from inside my mind, but didn’t belong to me. How was that possible?

 

I couldn’t place the soft, silky tones either, but they made my stomach flip and my heart flutter. I knew the speaker. At least I thought I did. Before I could ask him who he was or how he spoke in my head, someone blew out a sharp breath. This time, the sound didn’t come from inside.

 

“Finally,” that second voice said.

 

Nope. Definitely not coming from my mind.

 

I rolled my eyes toward the relieved sound, and then frowned at the guy leaning over me. Long, dark hair hung in his face. His eyes were black, and full of concern. His features were sharp, severe, but handsome.

 

This time I was certain; I knew this guy.

 

“Ronan,” I said. His name was Ronan LaCrosse, and mine was… Arionna. Yes, Arionna Jacobs. Memory began to slowly trickle back in. We were at a motel in Illinois, looking for someone. And the howls were coming from Fuki, the little wolf we’d brought with us, though I couldn’t see him.

 

Where was he?

 

I tried to figure out why I was on the floor, but came up with a big blank.

 

“What happened?” I asked, looking up at Ronan.

 

He held out a hand for me, then pulled me into a sitting position.

 

The room tilted before straightening again. I clutched my head in my hands, groaning. When the initial wave of nausea passed, I tilted my head up slowly so I could see Ronan. “Did I hit my head?” I asked, trying to blink away the dark spots floating in my peripheral.

 

“You don’t remember?” He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side like a raven assessing me.

 

I scooted back against the edge of the bed, frowning.

 

What was I supposed to remember?

*

FLAME The Ragnarök Prophesies: Book Three
is available at
Amazon
*

You can add it to your TBR list on Goodreads
here.
 *
*
A.K. Morgen is the Amazon Bestselling author of the Ragnarök Prophesies
series. She lives in the heart of Arkansas with her childhood
sweetheart/husband of thirteen years, and their six furry minions.
When not writing, she spends her time hiking, reading, volunteering,
causing mischief, and building a Spork army. Ayden graduated
summa
cum laude
with her Bachelor of Science degree in Criminal Justice and Forensic
Psychology in 2009 before going on to complete her graduate degree in
CJ and Law. She currently puts her education to use in the social
services and CJ field.
Ayden also writes New Adult and contemporary romance under the penname
Ayden K. Morgen.
*
You can find her on Twitter, Facebook, or via her website at
http://akmorgen.com.
 *
*
You can also enter the Goodreads Giveaway at:
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Posted in #Book, Adult, Author, Bewitching Book Tours, blog, Book, Fiction, Sex, Tour, Violence, Writer

Barry by L.M. Pruitt – Book Tour

03/03/17

 


Barry

Winged

Book 14

L.M. Pruitt

Print Length: 186 pages
Publisher: SP Press
Publication Date: January 14, 2017
ASIN: B01N22VUWH
A standalone novel in the world of the international bestselling WINGED series… a glimpse in to one man’s past….
It was supposed to be a simple dinner. The repayment of a debt.
I should have known Lilith would find a way to make things difficult.
Three favors. Three stories of lovers past. As Lilith said, an easy task.
I remember them all.
WARNING: THIS BOOK CONTAINS GRAPHIC LANGUAGE AND GRAPHIC SEX SCENES. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Excerpt:

I leaned back,
unfolding my napkin and draping it over my lap. “So, what sort of delicacy is
on the menu this evening?”
“Oh, who knows.
I leave those sort of things to the kitchen.” Lilith waved a hand absently,
brushing the question aside as if it was no more than a fly. “It’s time for you
to pay your debt.”
“And I’m here.”
“Baraquel.” Her
smile was the sort usually reserved for cute animals and slow adults. “Did you
really think a simple dinner would be all the repayment I required?”
“Not really but
I was foolish enough to hope.” Sighing, I pulled a cigar from my coat pocket
and examined the tip. “How, then, am I supposed to repay you?”
“Three favors,
correct?” Her smile grew when I nodded. “Wonderful. Three stories, then.”
“I beg your
pardon?” I winced, shaking my head as she laughed. “Remind me to limit my time
around Joanne. I’m picking up too many of her verbal ticks for my liking.”
“If it helps,
think of this as more of a series of lectures on the right and wrong way to
conduct relationships.” She propped her elbows on the table, steepling her
fingers as she stared at me with the sort of fascination I’d seen on cats in
the instant before they pounced. “After all, you have so much advice to offer.
It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”
“My personal
life is my own.” I set the cigar down, hating the stiffness in my voice and yet
unable to do anything to correct it. “You’ve known me long enough to know
that.”
“And I’m not
asking for a rundown of every person you’ve fucked in the last few millennia.”
Her smile widened, the edges turning cruel. “Besides, even if I did, I doubt
you could provide one.”
“I remember.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” I
clenched my fist in my lap. “I remember them all.”
“Good.” She
tapped her fingers on her lower lip. “Then tell me a story.”

 

About the Author:

 
L.M. Pruitt has been reading and writing for as long as she can remember. A native of Florida with a love of New Orleans, she has the uncanny ability to find humor in most things and would probably kill a plastic plant. She knows this because she’s killed bamboo. Twice.  She is the author of the Winged series, the Plaisir Coupable series, Jude Magdalyn series, the Moon Rising series, and Taken: A Frankie Post Novel.
 

Guest Post

A Typical Week

A lot of people like to think a writer’s life is, for lack of a better word, awesome. I mean, you get to spend the day playing with your imaginary friends, researching cool and interesting things, and telling fantastic stories.

However, there is a reason a famous writer compared the act of writing to opening your veins and letting the blood spill out.

Four days a week, I wake up at around six thirty in the morning. After stumbling around for a bit, I manage to make myself presentable enough to go out in public and not scare small children. I settle in for my morning commute, which takes all of three minutes—five when there’s traffic. And then I’m at my office, i.e., a local coffee shop.

Coffee shops are interesting first thing in the morning. They’re just quiet enough to allow for concentration but they also have enough background noise to keep your mind from wandering completely. There’s a great mix of people who are stumbling in, desperate for coffee, and those who have clearly already had more than their fair share and are now ready to conquer the world. I have a great deal of sympathy for those in the first group because despite the fact I can wake up early and at almost any time, I am by no means happy about it.

After a quick infusion of caffeine and a bagel—one of my few weaknesses—I settle in for a few hours of writing. This generally involves periods of typing, periods of staring out the window at the lake, and periods of reading news and taking quizzes on my phone. Sometimes if I’m in the zone I can write for two or three hours straight but I usually only have the concentration for about sixty minutes at a time. Breaking between major scenes or chapters allows time for things to process and for the characters to let me know which way things need to go.

With the largest portion of my daily writing out of the day, I head back to my house, i.e., my other office, where I spend a few hours writings posts such as this one, looking for stock photos for covers, brainstorming, and doing a few dozen of the hundreds of little things which keep me occupied. Then it’s time for lunch and a quick nap.

And then, at least two days of the week, it’s time for the day job.

The two days I don’t get sell my soul to the service industry I continue writing off and on throughout the evening. I may work on some crochet projects, usually blankets or scarves, and watch some Netflix but nothing too exciting.

The other three days operate are essentially flipped—I work at the day job in the actual day and try and find the energy to crank out words at night. The only day I don’t write is Sunday, mostly because by that point I’m exhausted and, well, it would interfere with my drinking.

And then come Monday it starts all over again—but I wouldn’t change a thing.

Well, as far as the writing goes.

Posted in #Giveaway, Action, Adult, Author, blog, Book, Erotic, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, Tour, Writer

Marie Curie Saves the Titanic by Lady Ristretto – Book Tour + #Giveaway

05/01/17

Marie Curie Saves the Titanic
with a Flying Alien and a Mechanical Bat (and then They Bang):
An Action Figure Erotic Novel
By Lady Ristretto
Marie Curie is travelling aboard the Titanic on its maiden voyage with many historical figures, such as the Einsteins and Rudolph Valentino. Marie finds herself attracted to two mysterious American men, the ethereally handsome Kent Calhoun and the brooding billionaire Brewster Wainright.
Marie’s extended exposure to radiation through scientific research has given her telekinetic powers. But Marie isn’t the only one with superhuman powers.
Suffering in an unhappy marriage with an emotionally abusive husband, Marie
indulges sexually in the fascinating people around her.
Despite it being a buffet of anachronistic historical figures which borders on the absurd, Marie goes through a very profound and painful journey as she finally determines that she wants her life to change.
This is an Action Figure Erotica novel. The main characters have to have been made into action figures. Time, place, and history doesn’t matter. It’s like playing with toys as an adult. It’s fantasy and myth and history all wrapped up in a sexy package.
mc-excerpt

FOUR

 

Day Two, April 11

 

Marie slept through breakfast and then had room service bring up coffee and croissants.  It was cold and foggy outside, but Marie didn’t mind.  She ate her croissant staring out her porthole and felt like she was on a magical adventure.  Cal and Mileva were electrifying, magical people.

 

Mileva wasn’t merely Einstein’s wife.  She had been his student and was an independent physicist.  Without hesitation, Mileva shared that Albert preferred that she stay home with their steadily growing brood of children.

 

“I love my children,” she said sadly, in French.  Mileva spoke to her in French out of respect and intimacy.  In French, they could have a private conversation.  “I do.  I simply grow incredibly frustrated and bored and restless and the children can be so needy.”  As if remembering herself and realizing the intimate details she was revealing, Mileva shook her head and smiled.  “Physics is demanding, but it doesn’t dump peanut butter and jelly in the toilet or shave the cat.”

 

“Peanut butter and jelly?”

 

“Because the fish were hungry.  My children are crazy.”  She said it in quite a serious tone.  “Do you have children?  Oh, I’m sorry, that was indelicate of me.”  Mileva took her hand and squeezed it with passion.

 

Marie laughed.  “Radiation is my child and I’m happy it is.”

 

Mileva kept Marie’s hand and put it in her lap.  “Is it really killing you?”

 

Marie’s face fell.

 

“That was extremely indelicate.  But it’s quite all right–my children are killing me,” Mileva said, forcing her face into a pleasant expression.  Marie could tell Mileva was drunk, and she was only hinting at the deeper misery she had.  Mileva had wanted to be a physicist as a little girl.  Einstein wanted her to be a wife and mother.  Mileva could give him valuable feedback and yet couldn’t actively participate in the scientific world.  Mileva looked at Marie’s hand in her lap, letting her fingers trace Marie’s knuckles.  She looked like she was about to kiss them.  “Albert is quite taken with you.  He says your glowing green skin is captivating.”

 

Marie suddenly smiled and looked away.  A subtle blush of green flames licked across her cheeks.  “You’re too kind and generous.”

 

“And out of champagne!” Mileva emptied her glass and waved for a waiter.  One immediately showed to refill her glass, but she told him to leave the bottle.  He did so obediently.  Mileva filled both their glasses.  Marie giggled and they both drank.

 

“Albert wanted me to approach you about a threesome,” Mileva said, her eyes flashing as her fingers played with the gleaming white pearls around her neck.  She still retained Marie’s hand.  “So I have and my job is done.”

 

Marie blinked several times.  “I’m…very flattered of course.”

 

“But not interested,” Mileva said.

 

“I’m not opposed to the concept of sexual liberation.  God knows my own husband is leading the campaigner for gay men in Paris.  But Albert is…”

 

“Not your type?”

 

“Not at all.  No offense, I assure you.”

 

Mileva fixed her eyes on Marie:  “And me, Professor Curie?  Am I your type?”

 

Marie knew exactly what she wanted to say.  But all she could do drink all the champagne in her glass in one gulp.

 

Mileva laughed and she sounded young and excited.  She jumped up.  “Come dance with me!”

 

Marie allowed Mileva to pull her to the dance floor.  It was late into the evening and most people had left to walk the deck or continue drinking harder liquor at one of the bars.  Cal and Wayne were still in the dining room, deep in conversations with older gray haired men in expensive suits who seemed quite charmed.

 

Mileva put her arm around Marie’s waist, and Marie’s hand on Mileva’s shoulder.  “I don’t normally lead, but you don’t look like you’ve done this before.”

 

“I have!” Marie responded.

 

Mileva threw her head back and laughed.

 

There was a full band still playing, and Ella Fitzgerald was singing “Embraceable You.”  Mileva guided Marie slowly to the music, pressing her close.  Marie was slightly taller and looked down into Mileva’s dress, seeing her breasts free and moving against the beaded fabric of her dress.  Occasionally, she had a glimpse of a hard, pink nipple and Marie felt her body warm dramatically.

 

Suddenly Mileva let go of Marie and jumped back.  The chandelier drops of Marie’s dress reflected her green glow, which was intensifying dramatically.  Marie shuddered from the energy pumping through her body, and there was a burst.  The glass drops shot out intense beams, scorching the dance floor all around her.  It came out like a shotgun blast and then it was over.

 

Marie was mortified, pressing her hand over her mouth.  Mileva, however, was delighted.  She threw her arms around Marie and said she’d never been so flattered.

 

Cal and Wayne stared at Marie, their mouths hanging open.

 

The next morning, Marie hardly believed that the conversation took place.  Her face became hot from the memory and the heat was so intense it made her sweat all over.

 

Marie opened her porthole and let in the cold sea air.  She breathed in deeply and slowly and felt the heat begin to subside.  She had a fleeting thought of being twisted in her bed with Mileva, and it started wet heat trickling between her legs.  It almost set her nightgown on fire.  She smelled the material smoking and just managed to pull it off over her head and pushed it out the porthole.

 

Marie needed distraction.  She took a very cold shower and dressed in a thick, lead lined dress.  It was quite heavy, but necessary.  Especially if she was going to be so physically excitable today.  She was not usually so excitable.  She almost never caused fires or burned holes in dancefloors.  It was annoying, but it was also intriguing.  It offered up the possibility that things could be different on the Titanic.  That she could relax and do things Pierre wouldn’t allow.

Usually Marie wore her hair up in a practical bun.  Normally, her work could not accommodate her attention straying to her hair.  It must be completely out of her way.  She couldn’t sacrifice even a moment to push an unruly lock behind her ear.

 

But today she wanted to wear her hair down, pinned back at her neck to keep it mildly under control.  It was comfortable and, she knew, much more attractive.  As she brushed it, smiling and enjoying this small act of rebellion, there was a knock at the door.  It was a porter bearing an envelope sealed with wax.  He explained he was instructed to wait for an answer.

 

It was an invitation from Cal, requesting her presence at tea and a walk around the deck.  Marie wrote on the card, I would love to, and the heat from her hand left a burnt imprint on the paper.  Her first reaction was to keep it and simply give the porter a verbal confirmation.

 

But, no: let Cal see her fire.

I worked for almost ten years in coffee (Starbucks, Barnes & Noble cafes) when I quit and turned to writing erotica full time.

That’s a little misleading. Let me back up about twenty years. I decided I wanted to write professionally when I was in high school (not erotica, but my work definitely skirted the issue in an obvious way, but it eventually manifested itself in plays. They were the only thing I could finish. I did write poetry, but it was riddled with teen angst and pocked with imagery involving bleeding walls of flesh and a knight chess piece. And I kept a diary which, at the time, I wrote at an astonishing rate of half to one blank book a day.

While at UCLA, I wrote plays on the side. Sometimes during class. Sometimes inspired by my classes. While I took archaeology, queer literature and vampire fiction I wrote a radio play about a cross dressing archaeologist in Mexico who unknowingly unearthed a vampire.

After UCLA I had no idea what to do with myself and missed college a week after I graduated. I had my first full length play produced by a small theater in Illinois, and the director told me I’d learn much if I got my MFA in playwriting. So I went to Southern Illinois University, Carbondale and got my MFA.

I wasn’t the best graduate student. I was willful, stubborn, contrary, fiesty, combative. My work started to enter the realm of erotica and, being life stage plays, this became problematic. Especially in a university theater. I had written a one act play about pony play, which the department found too objectionable and unstagable to produce. Another one act was about a lesbian astronomer who falls in love with a star, and has a kind of “sex” scene with the star involving a nude scene.

My thesis play was about a woman who pretends to be a man online, and has cybersex with another woman. I didn’t want this to be my thesis. For my thesis, I wrote a full length version of Dying in Pleasure. But that was immediately found to be objectionable: too violent and misogynistic for undergraduates actors.

But I got out of there, and spent a couple years working on a novel version of Dying in Pleasure. I couldn’t let it go. During this time I went to Pompeii and it was harrowing. The condition of the town and seeing the bodies on display was extremely disturbing. No matter what professors had said about my play, I wasn’t going to abandon the story.

I eventually landed in Texas to work on my Phd. While there I began my own theater company to produce my works almost exclusively. This is when erotica and playwriting truly merged, and I became quite the controversy.

The theater lived almost two years before bankrupting, and I suppose I slid underground. I wrote very little and focused on coffee. Many personal issues and complications and life changes later, I find myself in Southampton, England and writing erotica full time. I work on novels and write short stories on commission. I’ve been building a significant online presence and have worked hard to be successful.

Publishing Dying in Pleasure has been more than a professional hurdle and accomplishment. It’s the culmination of years of work, my development as a writer, my obsession with Pompeii and my stubbornness.

Presently, I’m working on a mermaid erotica novel which I hope to be the first book in a series.

PS. A question suddenly occurred to me–why erotica? I’ve been fascinated with sex and sexuality for years. At this point, nothing really shocks me (although every once in a while, something new pops up that does), and it all fascinates me. I don’t judge anyone. I don’t write about everything (such as child molestation), but I don’t look down on furries and golden showers and any form of BDSM.

I think what intrigues me the most is the power sex has over us. How sex can turn an intelligent, well balanced, logical and emotionally stable person into a panting beast. I’ve experienced it myself. One of my best friends said of me, “How could someone so intelligent do something so stupid?” What I had done was stupid, but how it happened in simple: sex. I didn’t know how to wield the power of sex. It was a sword I was too weak to carry and it cut me in a thousand places. It had nothing to do with intelligence. Sex never does.

Intelligence is realizing that sex is powerful. And sometimes it’s okay to give in to it, and other times it’s not.