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Saturday, March 31, 2012

Read 2 Review Easter Treasure Hunt

To participate in all the drawings follow this link!



I'm giving away a copy of my Loose Id Book HIT ME...to two lucky commentors.

So you're looking for my letter, right? The letter is A

Tell me what's your favorite thing about Easter?

Friday, March 30, 2012

Welcome ER Pierce

Fractured Moon is over 325 pages, (82,300) First book in the Steel Series


Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romantic Suspense {It had a little identity crisis, and doesn't fit into just one category :snickers:}



Blurb:

Aurelia Fridell will always be a freak. Born to werewolf parents, her twin brother Ville can shift forms, but she can't. Twenty-five years searching for answers yields nothing.

As her thirtieth birthday approaches, isolation creeps in, and worry settles in her gut. She accepted her existence long ago, and yet lately, she's felt off-kilter. Eyes follow her, prickling her senses. Her headaches are getting worse.

Is she paranoid, or is there really someone, or something, stalking her? Watching. Waiting. Drumming fingers to a sinister beat she can't hear.

Time will tell.

Ceithin Starkley isn't looking for a mate. Especially now. In fact, he doesn't believe in true-matings at all. While he is being recruited for a new job, a scent on the wind stuns him, and he finds himself fighting an inner battle he never wanted, yet can't ignore.

Sparks fly, as Ceithin and Aurelia fight fate and race against a clock neither knows is ticking.

Will he claim Aurelia before he loses her for good?

Warning: This book is sexy. Contains a drool-worthy Alpha male wearing Beta clothing. A sassy and sweet heroine with brains and brothers you'll adore. A best friend every girl would love to hate. I mean have, and an impossible road no one will see coming.



******************************


Excerpt:

Maneuvering my way amongst the hoard of sweaty people was easy; finding a man to dance with proved more difficult. I sashayed my way to the middle of the crowded floor and began to dance. The music pulsed with eroticism, and I moved to the sensuous beat. My skirt made it difficult to dance, so, on a tenuous note; I stopped, grabbed the hem and tore five inches off the bottom. I noticed I'd ripped slits up the side when I kicked that bitch in the head, but I shrugged. I'd be a Lady of the Night versus horny librarian, tonight. My garters played peek-a-boo with the crowd as I rolled my hips and soon, a crowd of men surrounded me.

Astrid sidled up on my right and we began to dance in earnest. I channeled all my rage and devastation into a sultry mix; I rotated my hips, dipped my trunk, and shook my tail feather. I had a good sweat going and my brain finally turned off. I didn't think. I was feeling. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, but I ignored it.

Ceithin could eat pond scum. Ok, so, I know I'm not being fair. I mean, really? What was he supposed to do, dump his longtime girlfriend like a bad habit just because he may have found his wolf mate? Would I have liked him nearly as much if he had?

Tough questions. Maybe someday I'll have the answers.

Maybe I'd find another mate. Who says there is only one per person? Who knows, weird shit happens. Ville and I are proof of that.

His eyes caressed me from across the room. Watching me move, the way my body twisted and turned to the cacophony of sounds and beats. So I turned towards the hallway entrance and there he leaned casually against the wall, looking hot and unattainable. God he was potent. The air around him reeked of danger. I stared back into his eyes, but he made no move to come to me.

I didn't dance for him. I danced for me. I was in a place where hurt couldn't roam free.

Turning my back on him, I beckoned to the blonde Adonis who danced near me, alone, with heat in his eyes. I gave him the 'come hither' eye fuck and held out my hand. He sauntered closer and placed his left hand on my hip, bringing me in tight against him, while putting his right hand on my left shoulder, pressing his pelvis in close. His slow grind left me breathless. He rotated his hips, and I followed him as the beat turned Latin, and the erotic dancing began.

I closed my eyes and gave into the intoxicating way the dance held me in its grip. It was a release of sorts, a way to beat back the anger and frustration traveling within my body. Turmoil needed escape, and so I gave it one. With every grind, every hip roll, every step, I relaxed. My body became pliant. This was what I needed. The blonde wound my hair around his fist and pulled my head back. His lips and tongue traced paths up my neck to my ear as we moved in time to the rhythm.

He released me, then spun me around so my ass cosseted his erection. My hips rotated in a simulation of sex filled sheets and endless nights. He had one arm locked around my waist and the other curved around my breast. I rested the back of my head on his delectable chest. I opened my eyes and locked gazes with Ceithin, who'd plastered himself against the wall, but raptly watched us on the floor. He stepped forward; hands clenched, eyes radiating menace, but caught him-self. He stopped and shuddered, retreating back to the safety of the wall.

Coward.

I shrugged. His loss. I stretched my arm up and snaked it around the Adonis's neck as he continued to fondle my breast lightly while nudging me with his growing erection. A pleasurable pinch made me gasp as he rolled my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I shivered as my emotions turned into something darker. Need roared through me.

Bodies pressed closer as the crowd settled on the floor, and I lost sight of Astrid. I knew her well enough to know she'd be fine, but still, worry punched me in the gut. There were so many scents on the floor it was difficult to distinguish one from the other. Sweat, sex, and alcohol all cloyed for dominance.

As the song came to an end, I turned around to face my dance partner. It was time to go before I did something I'd regret later. I wanted to thank him for a fun time on the floor and leave on a high note. A fine sheen of sweat coated my body, and my eyes felt fever bright.



*********************************************************************



Buy Links:
Amazon:
All Romance (ARe)

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Please Welcome Randi Alexander

New Release, Contest, and Book Giveaway!


Thank you, Amber, for interviewing me today. I love your questions! They really got me thinking about how much fun I have doing my job. I'm Randi Alexander and I write cowboy erotic romance. I'm published with The Wild Rose Press' Cowboy Kink line. My second Cowboy Kink, Her Cowboy Stud, was released March 23.

Where do you dream of traveling to and why?

Since I'm writing about cowboys, I would love to spend a month seeing Texas. I'd rent a convertible and start smack in the middle of the state and travel a spiral through as many little towns and big cities as I could find. I'd talk with the locals, the cowboys and cowgirls, get a real feel for the variety that is Texas.

Tell us about your current release.

Her Cowboy Stud started out as a short story that I gave away with my last blog tour. Readers liked it so much, but asked for a longer story, that I rewrote it and sent it in to my editor at The Wild Rose Press. She sent it back and said, "Add some BDSM and more adventurous love scenes and we'll put it in Cowboy Kink." So, I rewrote, making Trace a Dom, Macy a sub, and I gave her a naughty occupation that worked very well in a couple of the bedroom scenes. ;-) That's a little teaser…

When in the day/night do you write? How long per day?

I'm lucky to be a full-time writer. I usually get the family out the door on weekday mornings then spend some time on social networking. It can get addictive, chatting on Facebook and reading authors' blogs. So when the coffee pot in the kitchen beeps to tell me it's turning itself off, I know it's time for me to log off the internet and write. (Wow, that was quite a detour from the question, wasn't it?) I usually write from 10 AM to 3 PM. Sometimes I go longer, usually I find time on the weekend to write, too. My longest writing session was 16 hours straight. Lots of words that day!

What is the hardest part of writing your books?

Definitely coming up with a plot. I have friends with whom I love to sit and plot stories, and I do much better with the synergy of a group than I can ever do alone. I heard a speaker recently say that authors should throw out their first three plot ideas because they're probably too cliché and dull, and they should go for the fourth idea. I'm going to try that!

Where do you research for your books?

My research is so much fun! I have a friend who's an ex pro-bullrider, and I talk with him about story ideas, and I send him parts of my stories for authentication. I also chat with cowboys and cowgirls as often as I can just to hear their stories.

Do you have critique partners or beta readers?

I have a great critique partner who is e-published in erotic romance also, and a CP who is pre-published. She's very interested in traditional publishing – a big New York publishing house, mass-market paperbacks, etc. She's very close to making it, too. The two of them look at my books with very different eyes, which is amazingly helpful. I also have a wonderful beta reader who catches the smallest little things. I'm always astonished at how much I learn from her.

Do you hear from your readers?

I do hear from readers, and I truly enjoy it. If a reader ever thinks that an author is too busy, and doesn't want to hear from them, it's just the opposite. We LOVE to hear from readers. I enjoy chatting on Facebook, getting e-mails, responding to comments on my blog. I've even received gifts from readers, which I truly cherish, I've been invited to attend a rodeo in a reader's town this summer (and I'm going!) and one rancher is going to name one of her spring calves after me! Randi The Cow. I love it!

Do you use a pen name? If so, how did you come up with it?

I do use a pen name because my real name is rather dull and difficult to spell. I wanted to go with a quirky name like Brandy Alexander, but I didn't want to compete with the cocktail. A guy friend suggested Randi Alexander. He said it was like Brandy Alexander, but kinkier. That's how I introduce myself, now. (LOL)

What book are you reading now?

I always have three books going. On the Kindle app on my phone, I'm reading Hidden Talents by Emma Holly (fascinating book!) In paperback, I've just started In Good Hands, a Harlequin Blaze by Kathy Lyons (super sexy!) On my iPod, I'm listening to The Player's Club: Lincoln, another Harlequin Blaze by Cathy Yardley (I listen when I take my daily walk.)

Do you have any suggestions for beginning writers? If so, what are they?

I do. I mentor writers, and am working with three right now. A paranormal romance author whose first book was just published (Yeay!), my ex pro-bullrider friend who is fictionalizing the story of his rodeo days, and a romantic mystery writer who is just starting out. My suggestion is to find someone to mentor you, to walk you through everything from which how-to books to read, to making your book video trailer. Having someone to guide you is priceless. For romance writers, joining RWA (Romance Writers of America) and attending the local meeting is a fabulous resource for finding people to mentor you.

Thanks for letting me tell my life's story ;-) If you have any questions for me, please post a comment, and I'll be happy to answer them. I'm attaching my book's blurb and a romantic excerpt for you. And check below for today's giveaway and my big contest that I'd love for you to enter.



Trace McGonagall’s quiet life on his Houston stud ranch is shaken up when gorgeous Macy Veralta arrives to claim an inheritance left to her in his uncle’s will. Trace sees her as just another gold digger, but he also can’t resist her curvy body. When she hints at being the perfect submissive to his Dom, he has to have her.

Macy wouldn’t have been three months late to claim her inheritance if she’d known Trace was sin in jeans. The cowboy’s dominant bearing and the smoldering glint in his eyes send shivers to her toes and stirs images of being bound in his bed and disciplined at his hand. But could Trace’s perfect seduction be part of his plan to reclaim her inheritance?

EXCERPT: Over 18 only please.

Pulling Macy on top of him, Trace grinned. “You won the bet. Anything you want is yours. You just need to ask.” His heart gradually slowed to normal while his body tingled with a major afterglow.

She kissed his shoulder. “Anything?” Her voice purred.

He pulled a pillow under his head to look down at her, combed his fingers through her soft hair. He would give her anything. His house, his horse, his heart. “Name it.”

“Would you feed me?”

His brow lifted. “Are we talkin’ food here, or is this sexual?”

She laughed. “This time it’s food. All the sudden I’m starving.”

His stomach growled at the thought of whatever JaniceLynn left in the oven for them, which smelled pretty damn good when he was in the kitchen before. He bent to kiss her. “I’m your servant, ma’am.”

He picked up his briefs and made a quick run to the bathroom. When he emerged, she stood and he handed her his shirt.

She slid into it, smiling. Nothing in his closet had ever looked so good. No one had ever felt so good in his arms, or been as perfect in his bed. He still didn’t know what Macy was thinking. Was this his one night with her, or would there be more?

*********

To celebrate the release of Her Cowboy Stud, I'm giving away, to one lucky *commenter, an e-copy of my first erotic romance, Chase and Seduction. Just leave a comment today and we'll choose a winner tomorrow. *Commenter must be 18 years of age or older to win.



I'm also giving away a custom-made messenger bag and a $50 gift certificate to Pureromance to one subscriber to my newsletter. For more details, and to sign up for this contest, please go to my website, RandiAlexander.com And while you're there, you can read the first chapter of Her Cowboy Stud.

Good luck, and thank you!

Randi

"Rode Hard and Put Up Satisfied"

http://www.randialexander.com/

WildAndWickedCowboysBlog

Her Cowboy Stud available at The Wild Rose Press Wilder Roses

Kindle version is available at Amazon.com

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Welcome to Tara Lain!

Where to start?


Thank you so much to Amber for inviting me to the blog. One of the most important decisions a writer has to make is where to start the story. Start too soon and it gets boring waiting for important events. Start too late and you have to go back and explain too much in backstory. Like Goldilocks we have to find the spot that's juuuust right.

Usually, that spot is just before a huge life-changing event for the protagonist. In both my new books -- Spell Cat and Sinders and Ash-- the action begins just before the central point of view character meets the man who will rock his world. In Spell Cat, my hero, Killian Barth, is teaching a course on the history of witchcraft which is appropriate since he is a witch! But his students don’t know that, of course. Right after his lecture, he meets Dr. Blaine Genneau, a human professor of quantum physics and the two set off their own big bang.

In Sinders and Ash, my hero, Mark Sintorella, is cleaning fireplaces in the resort where he works while the whole resort is waiting anxiously for the arrival of Ashton Armitage, the son of the fifth richest man in America. Ash is looking for a wife to save his inheritance and every mother and stepmother in the US has brought her daughters to meet him. Of course, Ash blows Mark’s sox off. Which potential bride will win the crown?

Once you know where to start, there's the issue of the first line. Will it grab the reader? Maybe go down in history like "It was the best of times. It was the worst of times," or "Who is John Galt?" That might be too much to hope for in every book, but authors still try to grab their reader's attention in the first paragraph. I love to start with dialogue. I think it plunges the reader into action and connection with a character. It suggests that the book will be more about people than description.

Both of my new books have dramatic dialogue as a first line. In Spell Cat, Killian pronounces, “Witches burned at the stake!” And in Sinders and Ash? Mark tries to brush off soot as he complains, “Damn the ashes.” I never considered how those lines might go together! LOL. What is your favorite first line?

And now for a CONTEST. Enter the Magic at Midnight Blog Tour Contest celebrating the release of Spell Cat on March 20th and Tara’s new contemporary fantasy, Sinders and Ash, on April 1.

• Leave a comment here with your EMAIL and you’ll be entered to win a $10. GCs in a drawing on April 9th.

• Want to win a poster of the gorgeous Spell Cat cover? Want to win a Volley Balls T-Shirt? Or other fun prizes? Go over to Beautiful Boys Books and enter the contest. There are lots of questions to answer and lots of fun prizes like drawstring backpacks, notepads, mirror compacts. We’ll have a bunch of winners so you have a good chance of getting a prize!



Excerpt: Spell Cat by Tara Lain; MM Paranormal Erotic Romance


Available from Loose Id and Amazon and ARe

When Killian Barth, history professor, meets Blaine Genneau, quantum physicist, they ignite their own big bang. But sadly, Killian walks away because he doesn’t do physics professors. In fact, he doesn’t do humans; Killian is the most powerful male witch in 10 generations and, though gay, he’s expected to save his declining race by reproducing. Sex with humans depletes his power – or so he’s been taught. Then why can young human, Jimmy Janx, dissolve spoons with a thought? Somebody’s a lying witch. With his powerful cat familiar, Aloysius, on his shoulder, Killian brings the lightning against deceit and greed to save Blaine from danger and prove love is the greatest power of them all.

He looked at the feline, whose head was curved around and practically tucked under his chin. “What the hell. Okay, Al, let’s go.” Since the cat wasn’t budging from around his neck, Killian got up, hugged his mother, and pulled on his jacket against the early spring chill, all with a fur necklace. He grabbed the carrier, heard a soft growl by his ear, and set it down. Okay… Cat three, Killian nothing. “Thank you, Mother. I’m sure I’ll find him very, uh, useful.”

Evangeline trailed him to the foyer of the house where a maid waited to open the door, looking slightly startled at his new accessory. He kissed his mother on the cheek. “So I guess I’ll see you Saturday.”

“No guessing about it, young witch. It will be a grand occasion. I’m already discussing details of the wedding with Nicholas Karonoff.”

He sighed. Better not to argue. Wrapping his jacket and fur cat a bit tighter around him, he stepped out into the early spring chill and headed for the car. His mother’s house -- his house actually -- sat on a grand street in New York. He preferred the bohemian flavor of the neighborhoods near the college, but still, all these trees coming into leaf, shimmering in the streetlights, made the place look like fairyland.

He glanced down at Al, whose head rested on the shoulder of his jacket. “Good thing I brought the car, cat, or you’d be demonstrating your flying skills on the back of my motorcycle.” He opened the door of the electric sports car and slid in. The cat didn’t slip an inch. “Don’t think this car is an indication of my lifestyle. I just happen to be a fool for the occasional technological toy. You’ll find the rest of my accoutrements pretty sparse.”

“Merwaow.”

Killian wasn’t sure what that meant, but he didn’t comment. “So, what do you eat? Shall I stop and get you some kitty kibbles?”

Hisss.

Oookay, that meaning was pretty clear. “I’ve got some canned salmon. Will that do?”

He swore the damned cat smiled.

Driving into SoHo, where his apartment was, even the hum of the little car couldn’t keep his mind from the sorry state of his life. The stupid cat purred in his ear. “Glad you’ve got something to purr about.” Powers that be, the whole universe was closing in. He wanted a life. Every cell ached to be loved. He yearned for someone like… No. He just wanted someone to love him. And he was signing away that chance on a marriage license. It would be great to be noble, but -- face it -- he wasn’t. He was no Witch Master. Why couldn’t he have been born human? What kind of prankster gods gave him more power than any other witch? He felt like the lead performer in a giant cosmic joke.

He pulled into the very expensive parking garage -- his other indulgence -- got out, and locked the car in its stall beside the motorcycle. He walked the block to the old brownstone, the top floor of which he called home. The mail was boring. Okay, cat, check out your new digs. He opened the apartment door.

Aloysius leaped off his shoulder, hit the floor with a soft thud, and began exploring. Make yourself at home. He closed the door. “I know. I told you, it’s not much.” Of course, it was perfectly decorated, though in flea market finds and amusing hand-me-downs from friends. So what? It interested him to see what he could do, living without any of the resources to which he had title. No one understood it. Maybe he didn’t either.

He walked into the small bedroom and took off his coat and shoes, stripped off the semigood clothes he’d worn to his mother’s, and pulled on a pair of drawstring sweatpants and a comfy sweater. The cat followed on his heels into the kitchen. “Okay, I know I promised.” Aloysius watched carefully as Killian opened a can of salmon and dumped it in a dish. He started to put the dish on the floor and got one paw crossed over the other and a patient stare. “Oh hell.” He set the dish on the counter. Al hopped up and dug in.

Killian sat on the little chair by the breakfast table. He’d remodeled this kitchen with his own hands, scrounging used subway tile and pieces of granite. He’d only used magic when he couldn’t lift an object or make two pieces fit. And he’d spent a bit extra on the appliances. “So what do you think?” The cat kept eating.

Killian leaned his head against the wall. “What am I going to do, Al? Everyone expects me to do this marriage. I guess it really could mean a lot to my people. My people… Well, you know what I mean. But gods, producing kids with a woman! I don’t swing that way.” He got up and walked down the short hall back into his bedroom. When he looked down, Al was right there.

Killian sat on the edge of the bed. “If you’re supposed to be my familiar, I guess you better know that your witch is a fag. And not a very good one. Can’t really do the job for witchery, but I’m no better at doing the job for myself.” He fell back on the blue bedcover, a bedcover that had hardly seen anyone on it but Killian since he’d gotten it. The cat jumped up and looked at him as if he understood. Okay, he was losing it. But he had to talk to somebody.

“I haven’t ever had a serious relationship. When I was young, my mother managed to scare off any boyfriends I could find, and she wouldn’t let me anywhere near human boys. I guess she was just protecting me, but still, no boyfriends for me. And now, I just get users who think I’m some kind of road to the top of witchery. I hate it so much.” Damn. His eyes blurred. “You’re going to think I’m some kind of witchy wuss.”

The cat walked over and licked his hand. The sandpaper surface tickled his thumb. That did it. When had he last felt even a tiny lick done with true affection? His mother loved him in her way, but she was a Master Witch and cared far more for power and scheming than she ever had for love. She couldn’t understand why he didn’t value the same things. She had carefully selected his father for his good breeding potential, and she’d sent him on his way as soon as she’d shown signs of being pregnant. She’d gotten just what she wanted. The most powerful witch in the world, or at least one of them. Well, no. He guessed she hadn’t wanted a flaming gay witch who would give his last spell to be held by a lover who truly cared for him.

Tears began to drip from his eyes. Hell, what’s the use? He might as well cry. A moan escaped him, and he rolled into a fetal ball. “Oh, Al, I’m so lonely. So very, very lonely.” He cried until he slept from exhaustion.

Aloysius stared at the lean body and the long dark gold hair. He slipped under the man’s arm so he could lie close to his chest and hear his heartbeat.

E-mail: tara@taralain.com

Website: http://www.taralain.com/

Author blog: http://taralain.blogspot.com/

Book blog: http://beautifulboysbooks.blogspot.com/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4541791.Tara_Lain

Savvy Authors: http://www.savvyauthors.com/vb/member.php?2398-Tara-Lain

Twitter: http://twitter.com/taralain

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/people/Tara-Lain/100001514105686

FB Page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Tara-Lain/205042046209804
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Tara-Lain/e/B004U1W5QC/

B&N http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/Tara-Lain?keyword=Tara+Lain&store=book

ARe http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=Tara+Lain






Tara Lain never met a beautiful boy she didn’t love – at least on paper. A writer of erotic romance, mostly ménage and male/male, Tara loves all her characters, but especially her handsome heroes. A lifelong writer of serious non-fiction, Tara only fell in love with EROM in 2009 and, through perseverance and lots of workshops, had the first novel she ever wrote published in January of 2011. Then she capped off the year by being voted Best Author of 2011 in the LRC Awards and had her Genetic Attraction Series named runner-up for Best Series of 2011! A very good year. After an exotic life of travel all over the world and work in television, education and advertising, Tara settled in Southern California with her soul-mate husband and opened her own small marketing business. She paints, collages, and started practicing yoga “way before it was fashionable”. Passionate about diversity, justice, inclusion and new ideas, she says on her tombstone it will read, “Yes”.

Monday, March 26, 2012

We Did It!

We managed to see everyone on our list – except my son. It was very disappointing. His work schedule wouldn’t allow and his boss didn’t care that he had family from out of town. Oh well. I’ll get over it. It was nice to see my friend Michelle. It was way too long. We promised to get together in May when we go back.


Baby T and I managed to come home with a cold, but I got sleep last night and I’m feeling rested.

I’m hoping to share some exciting news in the next day or two. I know, I know…keep you in suspense. I hate when people do that to me. LOL

Tomorrow I’m hosting fellow Loose Id author Tara Lain. She’ll be sharing her newest bestseller. Please drop by and say hello.

Off to write…edit and finished two article queries.

Here's our peanut!



Happy Monday.

Friday, March 23, 2012

How many people can Amber squeeze into one weekend?

We’ll find out soon. The DH and I are heading to NY, with the little one in tow. We’re going to visit my family. We have so many plans for 48 hours. Tonight we’ll visit with family – cousins, aunts and others. Tomorrow we’ll visit my dad and then dinner with an old friend who I haven’t seen since our wedding five years ago. Sunday we’ll spend time with my son who moved there a year ago.


By the time we get home on Sunday evening I’ll be exhausted I’m sure. The older daughter’s will stay home and care for the three dogs. Speaking of dogs they’re getting pissy already. The suitcase came out and they know we’re leaving. Three boys who are not happy!

Happy Friday everyone. Enjoy your weekend.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

New Cover Art

I just finished uploading another one of my former AMP titles - One Tasty Night. This is the sequel to Unwrapped, formerly Mistletoe Studs. Here is the cover. A special thanks to Dar at Wicked Smart Designs!!!!

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

It's Conference Time!


2012 NEC Let Your Imagination Take Flight Conference


April 27-28,2012

Hawthorne Hotel, Salem, MA



Keynote speakers include best selling authors Kristan Higgins and Marie Force

Extra Workshop speaker is story and script consultant Michael Hauge, who will
be doing a 4 hour workshop on Friday and offering a 2 hour condensed
workshop on Saturday.

Friday night speaker is well-known spiritual guide Roland Comtois.

We have a ton of great workshops planned as well as a bookfair on Saturday. A/E appointments are also still available. All the information, including workshop grids with times are now up on our site. Please go to www.necrwa.org/conference.

Registration Fee:

NEC Members - $199

Non-NEC Members - $219


As a member and an author I highly recommend this conference. :o)

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Join the fun and win a book!

I'm participating in The Romance Reviews 1st Anniversary Bash. Today my question is up. Head over for a chance to win a copy of my Loose Id Book - Hit Me!

http://www.theromancereviews.com/event.php

Monday, March 12, 2012

Welcome Tina Donahue!

I always enjoy having Tina here. So please give her a great big welcome.


So You Write Romance, Huh?



It’s that ‘huh’ that always gets me when a new acquaintance learns I’m a romance writer. Even before any additional questions are asked, I can often see growing disdain in the individual’s eyes. I can sense what’s going through the person’s mind.


Romance is so lame.

Romance is so cheesy.

Romance isn’t real writing.

Romance is easy to write.

*pause for a deep breath while I’m fighting the urge to roll my eyes, scream or maybe even laugh*

Nothing, and I do mean nothing, is harder to convey on a page than emotion. Engaging a reader to feel what your characters do, to bring your reader to tears, to have them laugh or sigh, is a monumental task.

One romance writers accomplish every day, while weaving stories that explore topical issues. For example, my highly acclaimed romance In His Arms deals with the subject of sexual slavery. Deep, Dark, Delicious explores issues of abandonment and how it affects one’s ability to love. Adored, my award-winning romance, is a journey of two people learning to trust. And in Sensual Stranger, which was voted Best Erotic Romance 2010 by Blue Moon Reviews, I tackled a story of second chances, of renewed love.

Cheesy? I don’t think so. Lame? Only for people who can’t feel. Easy to write? Not in a million years. I sweated over each word of those novels and was rewarded by readers telling me I made them cry, laugh, sigh.

That, my friend, is real writing.

And then, after many years of writing contemporary romance, I tried my hand at a paranormal – The Yearning. As with my other works, I wanted depth for the characters and plot, dealing with issues of jealousy, stalking, guilt and redemption. The reviews have been great. TwoLips gave it a Recommended Read, while Whipped Cream Reviews gave it 4.5 cherries. :o)



The Yearning is a bestseller (wheeee), and now it’s in print (double wheeee).



Here’s the blurb and an excerpt:

To break this curse, they’ll have to turn the heat up. Way up.

Jasmine Dante prowls Key West’s nightlife, fighting a losing battle against a jealous rival’s curse that forces her to seek carnal pleasure, no matter the danger. Weakened from lack of sleep, driven by insatiable lust, she spots a man who stirs her desperate craving, and begins yet another dance of seduction.

Except the dark stranger who returns her direct stare is no ordinary lover. Inside his powerful body lies a raw sexuality that just might be enough to break her curse. There’s only one way to find out: imprison him in her bed and feed on his passion.

Former U.S. Marshal Mike Stearn is many things, but he’s no woman’s sex slave. The deadly telekinetic power he ruthlessly suppresses comes alive again at Jasmine’s touch. Beneath her bold, potent sensuality he senses vulnerability and desperation. He may be in handcuffs, but she’s the one who’s enslaved.

As Mike resurrects his power to free himself so he can find the curse’s source and defeat it, Jasmine revels in his masterful rule. Her ravenous yearning evolves into rapture as she surrenders to his hunger, her darkest needs—and the emotional connection that lies beyond. Unless the curse takes her life first…

Warning: Tons of steamy sex, smoldering passion and a to-die-for love story with a hot Alpha hero who finds himself imprisoned by one sultry and desperate babe.



Chapter One



You will want as I want. You will know insatiable lust, but no peace.

—Desiree Zazou

Despite the danger, unending desire drove Jasmine Dante through the Blue Bliss Club, a hangout for locals in Key West. Slow-dancing couples clung to each other in the intimate atmosphere. Turquoise lighting gave the place a dreamy underwater feel, while tiny azure bulbs sparkled like Christmas decorations on the palms flanking the bar.

A man Jasmine had just noticed sat on the last stool. No more than mid-thirties, he wore his long, black hair tied back. Sharp, masculine features, dark eyes and a coppery complexion revealed his Native American heritage. Unlike many of the other men, he didn’t wear the ubiquitous flowered shirt, shorts and flip-flops. Black mocs hugged his large feet. Jeans and a T-shirt the color of midnight clothed his lean, muscular frame. Beneath his right sleeve, she spotted a bold tattoo of what looked to be an eagle.

She pictured her mouth on the strong design, her tongue roaming his slightly salty flesh, her fingers travelling over his hard abdominal muscles and beneath his jeans’ waistband, seeking the thick, fragrant curls below. Unendurable yearning sliced through her, quickening her heart. She moved closer.

His attention didn’t stray from tonight’s band, a new group named Engaged. Their R&B throbbed soulfully, evoking the seductive richness of Alicia Keys, Jennifer Hudson and Toni Braxton. The lead singer, a slight young woman with heartache in her eyes, seemed to perform solely for him.

Were they together? Was he waiting for her set to end? Panic flared, pushing Jasmine to do something. What? her mind cried. Fight another woman over a man she didn’t know? Months ago, she would have found the notion ludicrous and daunting. Since crossing paths with Desiree Zazou, everything paled beneath Jasmine’s consuming lust.

The woman’s mocking voice echoed in her mind: “You will want as I want.”

A bead of sweat slithered from Jasmine’s temple to her cheek, intensifying the fragile, dewy scent she wore. Her steps slowed as she regarded the singer.

The girl dipped her head in a gesture of farewell to the man, then sang with equal passion to another guy who leaned against the satiny blue wall.

She’s playing to her audience, Jasmine thought, it’s a part of her act. She probably doesn’t even know him. Though relieved, she remained shaky inside and stopped at the end of the dance floor.

Someone bumped into her. She stepped aside and froze as a young redhead in a scarlet Band-Aid dress tottered toward the man, her gait unsteady from drugs or too many drinks. He noted her blurry smile and offered a guarded expression in return. Twisting her hair and holding it back with one hand, the redhead pressed close, her ample breasts snuggled into his sculpted biceps, her mouth to his ear. Whatever she said made his dark brows lift.

Heart pounding, Jasmine glanced over and captured the server’s wrist as the twenty-something girl—Sara, by her nametag—tried to move past. Jasmine kept her voice raised just enough so the music and singer wouldn’t drown her out. “See that man at the bar on the last stool?”

Server Sara put her voice at the same pitch. “You kidding? Me and about a dozen other women got him in our sights, including the one who’s with him now. You thinking about sending him a drink?”

“Whatever he’s having.” Afraid to use a credit card the police could trace back to her if anyone reported him missing, she took a twenty out of her evening bag.

The bill went into the front pocket of Sara’s cobalt blue apron. “What’s your name? So I can tell him.”

No. She couldn’t chance the girl putting any name to her face. “Have the bartender point me out. And keep the change. Please.”

“You got it.” With a savvy wink, Server Sara turned and wove through the crowd.

One of the bouncers, an older guy with a shaved head and goatee, watched the redhead as she clung to the man and continued to speak. Jasmine saw the building annoyance in the man’s twilight eyes. Before he had to do anything about it, a trio of giggling young women joined the redhead. All wore skimpy, skin-tight dresses in a rainbow of shades: bright yellow, grass green, purple as deep as a bruise. They tried to coax their friend back to the dance floor.

She flung out her hand to shoo them away. The bouncer stepped forward and said something the young woman didn’t like. Head whipped to the side, she gave him a frown. A tense moment passed during which the other girls convinced her to leave.

Jasmine feared the man would do the same, fed up with aggressive females. What would she do then? Follow him outside and pretend she wanted to know the time? Ask for directions to another bar, maybe one on touristy Duval Street? Invite him to join her? And if he didn’t, would she be able to find someone else to ease her ravenous yearning or would he stay in her blood the entire time, making her lust even worse?

Seconds crept by. The air hissed with uncertainty.


He settled back on his stool, absorbed by the smooth tenor sax and the songstress’s smoky vocals.


Jasmine remembered to breathe. Closing her eyes briefly, she wondered if he was a musician, given his interest in the band. He certainly seemed to be a gentleman, considering his restraint with the redhead. However, this was a public place. What would he do when he thought they were alone? Travis, the last man she chose, would have harmed her, if not for her sisters’ intervention.


Recalling that night, her insides rolled, though it didn’t stop her. She watched the female bartender accept her twenty. To the left, Jasmine’s younger sisters, Violet and Lily, sat at a corner table, their apprehension palpable. When she made eye contact with Lily, her youngest sibling rose to join her. Violet grabbed Lily’s arm, a reminder to sit. Worried they might argue and ruin everything, Jasmine shook her head, warning them not to be obvious. To the casual observer and especially to the man, they shouldn’t appear to know each other. Thankfully, they didn’t look like sisters. Violet, with her light brown hair, hazel eyes and pale complexion, resembled their late mom. So did Lily, even though she’d dyed her brown hair platinum and wore it in a close-cropped boyish style. Jasmine, on the other hand, had her late dad’s olive coloring, dark brown hair and blue-green eyes.


Violet inclined her head toward the man. Jasmine looked. The bartender had already slid a bottle of Dos Equis to him. They exchanged comments, and then the woman lifted a slender forefinger and pointed to Jasmine.

He turned.

Heat surged to Jasmine’s cheeks. Crushing need prevented her from taking a full breath.

In his hooded eyes, she saw fulfillment, no matter how fleeting…his confining weight trapping her, the ends of his untied hair skimming her bare shoulders, his mouth hard and ruthless. A virile male she wouldn’t have dared approach before Desiree changed her destiny, falsely accusing her of taking Connor Rolands, the man Desiree wanted.


Now, the curse drew Jasmine to this man as the road to Hell seduces a born sinner. She walked in time to the music’s sensual beats. Inwardly, a part of her cowered. For him and what would soon come, she offered a welcoming smile.

Buy Link for the Paperback: http://store.samhainpublishing.com/the-yearning-p-6790.html?osCsid=64236ba43448ed9065b8d2aee63f914c

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Friday, March 9, 2012

Welcome Ashlynne Laynne

Thanks so much for having me here today, Amber. I really love what you’ve done with the place!

How did you start your writing career?

If I’m going to truly trace the origins of my desire to write, they’d go back to age eight and my winning third place in an oratorical contest. A writer was essentially born. In my teen years, I started writing poetry. I still love to write poetry. The epilogues of books one and two are my original work. In October of 2010, I sat surrounded by some sketches I’d drawn of an amulet, some research about the Salem witch trials and character traits of two people I couldn’t get out of my head. I made the decision to start writing about these two people and let it take me where it might.


Tell us about your next release.

My next release is the second book and the continuing of Ascher and Shauna’s journey. Blood Bonds will feature more romance and danger, the deepening of the couple’s relationships and a special event that will shock even the most jaded reader. I think anyone who loved The Progeny will also love the sequel.


Who is your favorite author?

I love Stephen King but I’ve also discovered some lesser known authors that have also gotten my attention.

Plotter or Pantser? Why?   

I usually start a project with a loose timeline of things to happen. It rarely holds up. The more I write these characters, the more resistant they become to my “plotting.” I also place note pads and pens throughout my house. I never know when the urge to write or an idea might spark in my brain. Ascher and Shauna also make guest appearances in my dreams. The first time I dreamed about them, it really freaked me out. Now, I’ve come to expect it.


Tell us about your family.

I’m not one to stock pile friends for the sake of saying that I have them. I have a platinum friend, Tabetha, whom I’ve known since seventh grade (most of my life). I’m married and live with my husband of nine years and my autistic son.


Do you use a pen name? If so, how did you come up with it?

Ashlynne Laynne is my pen name. It’s very similar to my given name. I use a pen name to protect my identity and that of my son. I came up with it after someone suggested that using my initials and my last name might not work for writing romance. I’d been advised that women were less apt to buy a romance novel if they thought a man penned it. I’m still not sure how accurate that assumption was but I like the name Ashlynne. Besides, it being close to my hero’s name, it means “dream” in Gaelic.


Do you listen to music while writing? If so what?

I love using music as a tool in writing. What I listen to depends on what I’m writing. Most of the fight scenes in The Progeny I wrote while listening to Rob Zombie, White Zombie and Muse. I so love them even though I’m not considered their “target audience.” For love scenes, I like to listen to softer, more romantic type music. I’m particularly fond of Maroon 5, Rihanna; Foster the People, Beyoncé, Lady Antebellum, Lil Wayne, Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga and Adele. As you can see, my musical tastes are very eclectic. I’ve even written a country song or two in my younger years.


What book are you reading now?

Right now, I’m the BETA for a dear friend and I’m reading her upcoming release. I’m also re-reading Blood Bonds and writing Blood Lust. My plate’s full!


What are your favorite TV shows?

Family Guy, The Cleveland Show, Property Brothers, Bitchin Kitchen, Secret Circle, Vampire Diaries and my guilty pleasure of any Lifetime movie.


Morning Person? Or Night Person?
I’m a night person, which totally conflicts with my work schedule!


The Progeny Blurb
“No fate other than the one I choose.” The timeless creed, and tattoo, bore by the Rousseau’s— a vampire clan with the purest bloodline of any vampire family. Out of this clandestine group came one who was different, yet the same: Ascher - a half-bloodling— half- human, half vampire.

Ascher questions the purpose for his existence and which world he truly belongs to: the human world or the vampire world. Two months from sealing to Ursula— a prearranged union to a woman he abhors — he’s at his wit’s end. He knows if he calls off the sealing, the Romanian clan will strike with deadly force, but he cannot see eternity with a cold empty shell of a woman like Ursula.

Just when he thought life was complicated enough, he meets Shauna— a beautiful, bi-racial human Wiccan — and immediately develops an unshakable attraction to her. She makes him feel alive and vital despite his origins and Ascher makes a decision that turns his immortal world upside down.

The Progeny Excerpt
He lowered her again, brushing her neck with his tongue. She gradually opened to him as he gave her cautious and gentle thrusts, his hands guiding the movement of her hips. He watched her eyes widen as she took more of him. He was surprised, and delighted, that she was able to take all of him.
Her anguished whimpers became moans of pleasure. Both their eyes rolled in their heads as he continued to lower and raise her. She was his match, a mold shaping to fit him.
He gripped her back again, releasing her hips to allow her control of the thrusting. Her movements were shaky and uncoordinated at first. Eventually, she found a rhythm, becoming more confident with twisting and looping her hips in tight circles. His pale complexion flushed, the fire burning in his skin and spine, threatening to bury him in orgasm. Several times, he seized her hips to cease her movement, preventing himself from losing it— he couldn’t believe how close he already was.
He held her arms, attempting to bring himself out of her, but she stopped him, locking her fingers with his so he couldn’t interfere.
He surrendered. It felt too amazing to stop.
His voice was deep and heavy with lust, when he groaned, “I’m so close.”
“Let go, Ascher. I know you want to. Don’t hold back.”
He thought of how foolish her request was. If he didn’t hold back she could be hurt, or killed. He fought against the pleasure, shoving the tingles back down, stemming the overwhelming urge to come. He hesitated, stopping the thrusting, grabbing her hips to get control of his body.
He suddenly feared what his orgasm might mean for her.
“Don’t stop.” she moaned while wiggling free of his arms’ hold, her rigid tongue tracing circles into his neck. Her hips resumed their rocking, lashing him with their movement, forcing his orgasm to the edge. Her fingers twisted into his hair. “I’m close,” she moaned, her eyes glazing with tears. “I’m so close.”
It was too much, the intense heat inside her, the grinding, her tongue on his neck. The fire returned, burning more than it had before he’d stopped them.
“Shauna.”
She shook her head, her hand knotting in his head, now. Blazing a deep and penetrating stare into him, she moaned, “Come for me, Ascher. Don’t be afraid. I want you to come for me.”
That did it. His control vanished, leaving his primitive nature behind. A fuse blew in his brain as his wild and uninhibited side slipped out. He growled then clutched her hips, roughly thrusting himself into her. 
The pain shocked her, flooding her with a discomfort that gave way to a pleasure so overwhelming that it caused her to rip her nails across his back.
He never even flinched.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Welcome Sue Brown

I guess this is all Lisa Worrall’s fault. It’s eleven thirty at night and I need a blog topic for tomorrow. She gives me my first teenage crush.


*bangs head* Do I want to be reminded of that? No, I really don’t think so. Okay, who was your first teenage crush? Was he some gorgeous ripped hunk, with perfectly tanned skin and dark, flashing eyes? Was she big breasted, small waisted and long legged?

Mine… wasn’t. In my mind he was lean and beautiful, with dark, flashing eyes. I used to dream about him. He worked in my local library, and I used to visit as often as I could just to see this boy.

I should thank him really. He certainly encouraged my love of books. I used to cycle to the library every couple of days as I’d do anything to see this lad. I went through a fair portion of the fiction section drooling at him. I think he was about 3 or 4 years older than me –in my world that was a lifetime. I’d never have been brave enough to actually approach him, dreaming was enough.

I used to daydream about meeting him outside of the library, him walking me home and then… fade to black. I was too young and naïve to think beyond that stage. Besides which Mills & Boon or Barbara Cartland didn’t let me know what happened next. At that stage it was all chaste kisses and holding hands. Certainly there were no heaving bosoms or anything below the waist.

I am so easily distracted. Back to my first crush. It didn’t last. It wasn’t that I was unfaithful. I am always faithful to my crushes. Nope, the problem was that I put my glasses on. My first crush proved to be a greasy, skinny, spotty oik not worthy of my daydreams. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was. I transferred my affections immediately to the boy at the local sweetshop. Should I thank him for my mouthful of fillings?

So, I’ve embarrassed myself enough. Let’s share the mortification. Who was your first crush? Were you the object of anybody’s crush? Come on, I have the popcorn. Tell all to Aunty Sue.

Author Bio: Sue Brown is owned by her dog and two children. When she isn't following their orders, she can be found at university listening to lecturers discuss long-dead theologians. In her head, however, she's plotting how to get her cowboys into bed together; she just hopes the lecturer doesn't ask her any questions.

Sue discovered M/M erotica at the time she woke up to find two men kissing on her favorite television series. The series was boring; the kissing was not. She may be late to the party, but she's made up for it since, writing fan fiction until she was brave enough to venture out into the world of original fiction.

Final Admission Buy Links:

Noble Romance: https://www.nobleromance.com/Books/357/Final-Admission

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Final-Admission-ebook/dp/B006NGE7V8/ref=zg_bs_172503011_19

ARe: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-finaladmission-728536-145.html


Blurb:
James Trenchard is a dick. Everyone in Bingwell, Brock, and Bacon says so, and after Ethan’s first encounter with the man, he agrees. Ethan resolves to avoid James but ends up working closely with him and discovers the lawyer's hiding a secret from the world. Ethan also realizes he's falling too hard too fast. Ethan has to decide if he should help James and risk getting entangled in the mess James has gotten himself into, or move on. But walking away from love is never a simple decision to make.

Excerpt: Chapter One


"Trenchard is a dick. Unless you're a chick. Then he's the only one with a dick. The rest of us might as well not exist."

There was a rumble of agreement around the coffee room at Vince's vehement rhyming declaration.

Ethan looked around at the other assistants, as they nodded in agreement. As the newest employee of Bingwell, Brock, and Bacon, the largest advertising agency in the city, he had no idea who Trenchard was, or what he had done to offend the senior administrator. He noticed the small, secretive smile that curved the lips of several women in the room, as they stared down into their coffee cups. Ethan had the impression she knew a lot more than she was giving away.
Vince curled his fingers around his cup so tightly Ethan feared that it was going to crack. "Do you remember last year with Antonia from the third floor?"

"Heck, yes." Paul chimed in. "He was all over her the second we walked in the building."

"And she went out to dinner with him." Vince's tone was bitter. "When I asked her to go out for a drink, she laughed at me. Then Trenchard raised his eyebrow, and she was dropping her panties before you could say slut."

Paul shrugged. "Yeah, but he's James Trenchard, Vince. If he asked you out, you'd be dropping your panties even faster."

Ethan waited for Vince to explode. He was, as far as Ethan was aware, a full-on heterosexual male, albeit an arrogant douche who had the women running for the hills.

Instead, Vince bit at his fingernail, before saying, "Nah, probably not."

"Who is this dude?" Ethan asked, totally confused.

Vince gave him a look. "He's James Trenchard."

As if that was supposed to explain everything. By the way they all nodded again, maybe it did.

From the way they said James Trenchard, Ethan wasn't sure what he expected. The Messiah, perhaps? In all the years his mom forced him to go to church, no one told him that he'd meet the Messiah at Bingwell, Brock, and Bacon
* * * * *

In the lobby, as James Trenchard greeted Leanne Cauldwell, the administration director and Ethan's boss, Ethan stared at him, trying to see the attraction. Sure, the guy was good-looking, almost beautiful even, for a guy in his mid-thirties, with sleek, light brown hair that curled over his collar, and ice-blue eyes framed by long lashes. Those lips wouldn't look out of place on a woman, except, on Trenchard, they didn't look effeminate. He was wearing a charcoal gray, pinstripe suit, with a plum-colored shirt and tie. Ethan noticed how well the suit pants showed off Trenchard's ass. The lawyer seemed friendly enough. Ethan wondered what he'd done to warrant the enmity of Vince Lines.

Up until the moment Trenchard let the door bang behind him, right into Ethan's face.

"Told you so." Vince's nasty whisper floated behind Ethan.

The guy was a dick, no doubt about it. Not a word of apology for almost rearranging Ethan's nose, then Trenchard ignored them all as they used the elevator to the tenth floor. Ethan stared at the lawyer's back with dislike, his top lip curling as James Trenchard openly flirted with Ethan's boss.

Ethan felt sickened, the way Trenchard's hand rested on her lower back as he guided her toward the conference room. What was worse, Leanne "Lay-one-finger-on-me-and-I'll-bust-your-balls" Cauldwell was positively blooming under Trenchard's sleazy charm. She had just giggled—giggled—at something he said.

But as the lawyer showed Ms. Cauldwell into the large, airy room, he looked over his shoulder to the men following them, Ethan included.

"Your boys get prettier every year, Lulu," Trenchard said conversationally. "Especially that large one. He's so young."

The large one, of course, had to be Ethan; he cleared most of the men by at least half a foot. And he wasn't fucking pretty. Especially not with a door imprint on his face. Unimpressed at being reduced to the level of a thirteen-year-old girl, Ethan rolled his eyes at Vince and Paul.

He noticed Ms. Cauldwell hadn't even bothered to look at her team. "You batting for the other side this year, James?"

"I bat for everyone," Trenchard said, then showed his perfect, white teeth.

Ethan imagined Trenchard sinking them into Ethan's shoulder, even as he sank his cock into Ethan's body.

Ms. Cauldwell snorted. "I bet you do. Well, my boys are pretty and clever, so don't you forget it. Don't make the mistake of thinking they're just for show."

Trenchard swept a glance appreciatively over the small group of men; his gaze lingered on Ethan's face. "Oh, I won't underestimate them, Lulu; I definitely won't."

And didn't Ethan just know Trenchard was talking to him. He wanted to punch him in the face.

"I don't think your boy likes me very much." James confided to Ms. Cauldwell as they sat down.

"Mr. Williams has good instincts," Ms. Cauldwell said.

Ethan resisted the urge to preen a little.

"I'm sure he does." Trenchard drawled.

The rest of them spread around the table. Ethan didn't know how it happened but somehow he ended up on the opposite side of the table from the lawyer. His temper rising, he avoided looking at the man's smug face; instead, his gaze fell on Trenchard's hand wrapped around a fountain pen. Long fingers tipped with well-manicured hands—strong hands. Ethan wondered what they'd look like around his dick. Flushing guiltily, Ethan looked up, to catch Trenchard smirking. Hastily averting his eyes, Ethan caught Ms. Cauldwell staring at them with a resigned expression.

"For heaven's sake, put him down, James." Ms. Cauldwell sounded more resigned than angry as she tapped her fingers on the table impatiently.

Trenchard leaned back in his chair. "I haven't touched him, Lulu."

Ethan wondered if he was the only one who could hear the yet.

"He's off-limits. Mr. Williams, if you could actually concentrate on our meeting?" Her tone made it clear that it wasn't a question.

His cheeks grew even hotter. Ethan muttered his apologies. He could feel the amused stares of all his colleagues except for Vince, who glared at him from farther down the table. Ethan looked up to see Trenchard still gazing at him, as if he were a succulent piece of prime rib.

Ethan was grateful when the meeting actually started, which diverted attention away from him. As the meeting progressed, he was unwillingly impressed. Trenchard knew his business. Nothing got past him as he went through each file. Ethan managed to acquit himself adequately when it came to his turn, answering all of the lawyer's questions competently. Some of his colleagues didn't fare so well. Ethan winced as Trenchard shredded Vince for a mistake that cost the agency thousands of dollars.

By the end of the meeting, he was feeling more relaxed and able to handle himself. That complacent feeling lasted until he felt a warm foot travel up his calf. From the angle of the foot, it could only be Trenchard. Ethan was pinned like a butterfly on a board as the silk-clad foot tiptoed its way higher, until it rested neatly in his groin.

Trenchard's mouth moved as skillfully in his detailed discussion on why the agency would get screwed by Disney if they used a phrase in a technical manual as his foot did in its detailed exploration of Ethan's groin.

Unable to move, unable to say anything, Ethan bit his lip as his traitorous cock sat up and begged for attention. He couldn't even shove Trenchard off without drawing attention to himself. There was absolutely nothing he could do, as slowly, inexorably, he drew closer to climax. Just as his balls drew up tight, screaming for their release, the foot disappeared.

In shock at his denied orgasm, Ethan watched in horror as the lawyer pushed back his chair and stood.

"I think we're done for the day, Lulu. Good work, everyone." Trenchard's gaze swept around the room. He gave a brief smile. "I believe there is lunch in the boardroom. I'm sure the sandwiches aren't too stale."

Everyone stood, except Ethan; he clutched his pen so tightly it was in danger of snapping. So close to coming, a puff of wind could've set him off.

"Mr. Williams, are you coming?" Ms. Cauldwell raised an eyebrow at her associate's lack of motion.

Most likely, he thought desperately, as he gave her a wild-eyed, "Yes, ma'am."

"I'll leave you to collect the files, then you can join us in the boardroom." She pushed back her chair, not giving a hint that she knew of his predicament.

"Yes, ma'am." He repeated himself, not moving a muscle. Trenchard, the bastard, left without even a backward glance at Ethan.

Paul gave him a puzzled look but obediently handed over his file, the others following suit.

Angry as fuck, Ethan grumbled, alone in the conference room with a pile of files in front of him, his erection hardly subsided since that bastard left him hanging. He wanted to get his cock out and jack off. Get it over and done with. Only he couldn't do that, so he had to wait until his boner had gone down enough for him to walk without a limp. He'd be lucky if there was any food left by the time he got there. Ethan ground his teeth in frustration.

When he finally could show himself in public and walk into the boardroom, his prediction proved accurate. The food platters were empty, the only things left a few pieces of limp watercress. Ethan groaned inwardly. It would be late evening before he had a chance to eat again.

"Here."

Someone thrust a plate into his hand. Not expecting it, Ethan dropped the pile of files in his arms. The sandwiches miraculously stayed on the plate. The room went silent for a moment, then everyone burst into laughter.

"Dear me, Lulu, you really picked a good one this time."

Ethan could hear Trenchard's mocking tone over the laughter. He sank to his knees to pick up the files, but not before putting a sandwich in his mouth, just in case they got taken away. Paul immediately joined him, reaching out for a file that had slipped farther away.

"I'm so sorry, Ethan."

"Huh?"

"I saved you some food. I should have waited until you'd put the files down."

"So you should, Mr. Vicini. It seems Mr. Williams can't manage two things at once. Multitasking is obviously not one of his skills."

Ethan looked up to see Trenchard standing over him, that stupid, mocking smile still on his handsome face. Glaring at the lawyer, he got to his feet, files in hand.

Throwing caution to the wind, Ethan leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I am perfectly capable of managing two things at once, Mr. Trenchard, just as you seem to be. It's really a shame you'll never have a chance to discover that for yourself."

He took satisfaction in the fleeting look of disappointment that crossed the lawyer's face.

His boss watched them from the sidelines, wearing a peculiarly satisfied expression.

"I think I'll take the files back to the office, Ms. Cauldwell." He didn't really care if this was against protocol.

She nodded, that odd look still on her face. "Good idea, Mr. Williams."

He took another sandwich from the plate Paul still held; he was hungry, after all, then left the room, thankfully without tripping, a shred of his dignity still intact.

As he left, he heard his boss say quietly, "One for my team this year, I think."

James gave a short laugh. "Not on your life, Lulu. This is just the opening salvo. Williams is just a kid. He could never stand to play with the big boys."

And didn't Ethan just hear the emphasis.

Ethan was a short hop from dropping the files and walking back in to plant his fist in James' face.

"Honestly, Lulu, you're going have to up your game if you think you're going to beat me."

"James, one day you might just get what's coming to you."

"Never gonna happen."

Humiliated and furious, Ethan stabbed at the elevator button. The guy was a lawsuit waiting to happen. Who the fuck did he think he was? If Ethan didn't need his job so much, he might have called the bastard's bluff. Except he wouldn't have, because God, that foot had felt good on his cock.

Yes, Mr. Trenchard, you are a total dick.

Monday, March 5, 2012

Better Late Than Never!

To say I’ve been busy lately is an understatement. I’m not complaining, just explaining. It was super nice to have guest bloggers so I didn’t feel guilty about not blogging. I’ve also been plague with migraines. For a week straight I couldn’t get rid of them. Today is the first day I woke without one. Woo Hoo.

I finished my shifter and will be sending it off to my editor later today. I’m waiting on a few details from my writing partner to wrap this baby up.
The contemporary is coming along nicely. I’m averaging 1500 words a day. It’s amazing how little or no sex can make me feel like a writing machine.
I’m also in the process of writing up a three book proposal. More details to come at a later date.
I’ve also just finished my article writing class. It’s amazing the things I’ve learned. Even though I’ve been writing and selling non-fiction for a long time I learned things I didn’t know. I’d say the class was well worth the money. I’m sure I’ll see a return on my investment.
I’m now taking a copywriting class. Yes, I’m a bit crazy.
The final change I’m making, with the DH is we’ve begun exercising again. I did my time on the treadmill this morning and I feel amazing! Let’s hope I feel that way tomorrow! LOL



Happy Monday.