January Erotic Book of the Month Poll

Five Favorite Places to Vacation by Rebecca Zanetti – Guest Blog and Giveaway

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by the publisher. We’ve got a fantastic Rafflecopter tourwide giveaway which includes a grand prize of all three books in the series, plus an ARC of TOTAL SURRENDER, a “Who Shot Jory Dean?” T-shirt and a Blind Faith dog tag.


Thank you to the Long And Short Reviews folks for having me over today to have some fun. I was asked about my top five favorite places to vacation, so here they are:

1. Hawaii: I love the islands, and we usually fly over there when it’s freezing at home. Sitting on the beach and soaking in sun is the way to relax, and I’m also known to write a bit at the pool.

2. Mexico: We take a grown up trip with four other couples every few years to a private home in Mexico on the beach and with an awesome pool. We usually end up with a brutal volleyball tournament, complete with a trophy.

3. Ireland: I love Ireland and always will. My family is Irish, and I feel like I’m coming home when I’m surrounded by all that greenery.

4. Australia: I backpacked around Australia with a friend years ago, before I was married with kids, and I had an amazing time. I’d love to do that again someday.

5. Home: Yeah, I’m one of those folks who like to have a stay-cation at home with comfy jammies and ice-cream. I enjoy a good movie marathon in front of the fire.

This was tons of fun – thanks so much for having me here! Where does everyone else like to vacation?

1_27 Zanetti_Blind Faith_MM[19]A betrayal he couldn’t forget . . .

For Nate Dean, love is a four-letter word. As part of a secret black-ops military unit, he and his brothers were genetically engineered by the government to be ruthless soldiers with an expiration date. They were loyal only to one another . . . until Nate laid eyes on the woman who stole his heart and blew his world apart. Now, years later, his family is still paying the price for his mistake. But as time runs out, there’s only one person who can save his family: the very woman Nate swore he’d never trust again.

A love she couldn’t deny . . .

The moment Audrey Madison spies Nate across a crowded ballroom, she can barely breathe. He’s just as undeniably sexy as she remembers, yet there’s an edge to him now that’s as irresistible as it is dangerous. When he asks for her help, Audrey can’t refuse. But she has secrets of her own–secrets that, if Nate ever discovers them, may cost them both their lives . . .

Enjoy an excerpt:

“Let’s dance.” He turned her toward the dance floor.

She balked. “No.” God. She couldn’t dance with him, couldn’t be touched by him.

“Yes.” His hold slid down to the back of her elbow, and he ushered her toward where the orchestra was playing “I Will Wait for You” by Michel Legrand. The warmth in Nate’s touch flared her nerves to life in an erotic need she’d worked hard to overcome.


“Shhh.” He tightened his hold and drew her into an impressive erection.

She gasped, her face heating, her sex convulsing. Blinking, she glanced up in confusion to see if he was as affected as she was and stilled at the look in his eyes.

Furious. The man was truly furious. Even with the contacts masking his eyes, his anger shone bright.

She tried to step back and didn’t move. Yeah, she knew she’d hurt him when she’d ended their relationship, but after nearly five years, he shouldn’t still be so mad. He’d had freedom for five years, which was a hell of a lot better than she’d had. She’d had pain and fear and uncertainty. She blinked. “What is wrong with you?”

His impossibly hard jaw somehow hardened even more. “Oh, we’ll discuss that shortly.” Threat lived strongly in the calm words. “For now, we’re going to finish this dance. Then you’ll take the north exit and meet me in my car so we can talk.”

“If I don’t?” she asked quietly, wings fluttering through her abdomen.

His hold tightened imperceptibly. “I know where you live, I know your daily routine in working for Senator Nash, and I know where you go when you need time alone. You can’t hide, you can’t outrun me—and you know it.”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose. “How long have you been watching me?” More importantly, why hadn’t she noticed?

“A week. Long enough to know the two apes toward the doorway are following you, too. What’s up with that?” His hold tightened just enough to show his strength.

She shrugged. “They haven’t made a move, so I’m not worrying about it.” Not true, and by the narrowing of Nate’s eyes, he could still smell a lie a mile away. “The commander is having me followed.”

Nate’s jaw clenched. “Why?”

“Dunno.” They didn’t have time to discuss it. “You should go now.”

“No.” He spun her, easily controlling their movements.

Her leg hitched, and she stumbled against him.

He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” None of his damn business, that was. “What do you want to talk about?”

His gaze narrowed, and he spun her again. She tripped again. Her damn leg didn’t move that way. She glanced toward the doorway and the two soldiers watching her. They’d straightened to alert stances. Damn it.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” Nate asked, brows furrowing.

Oh, they were so not going into her injuries on the dance floor. “You almost sound like you care.” She threw his words back at him, gratified when his nostrils flared in irritation.

His gaze probed deep, wandering down her neck. He blinked several times, his chest moving with a harsh intake of breath. “I like your dress,” he rumbled, his voice a low whisper.

With his tight hold, she had no doubt the tops of her breasts were visible. “Nathan, don’t—”

“Don’t what?” His gaze rose to her lips. A light of a different sort filtered through his angry eyes. She knew that look. Her body heated and her thighs softened. His erection jumped against her, and she bit down a groan.

“One kiss, Audrey.”

Her eyes widened to let in more light. “No,” she breathed. One of his hands held hers, the other pressed against her back. Thank goodness. He couldn’t grab her and kiss her, no matter how appealing the thought. “Bad idea.”

“I know.” Nate didn’t need hands. His lips met hers so quickly, she never saw him move.

His mouth covered hers with no hesitancy, no question—as if he had every right to go deep. His tongue was savage and demanding, holding nothing back and accepting no evasion. He tasted of loneliness, anger, and lust. Hard, needy, demanding lust.

The men at the door were watching.

But her body didn’t care—instantly igniting instead of pushing away. Her heart thundered in her ears, and she fell into his heat, uncaring of whether or not he caught her. He wrapped around her, his unyielding body holding her upright. He caressed her with his tongue, and she met him thrust for thrust, fierce pleasure lighting her on fire.
She forgot where they were, who they were, everything but the desperate need he created.

He broke the kiss, blatant male hunger crossing his face. His breath panted out even as he moved them in tune with the music.

She softened against him, allowing him to lead so she didn’t collapse. Her mind whirled, and she shook her head to regain reality. “Nathan, what do you want?” The question emerged as a breathless plea she couldn’t mask.

That quickly, all hints of desire slid from his face. His chin hardened. “Want? I want to know what happened to the child you were carrying five years ago when you ripped out my heart. Where’s my baby, Audrey?”

About the Author: 1_27 ZanettiFORGOTTENSINSRebecca[19]New York Times bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti has worked as an art curator, Senate aide, lawyer, college professor, and a hearing examiner – only to culminate it all in stories about Alpha males and the women who claim them. She is a member of RWA, has won awards for her works throughout the industry, and has a journalism degree with a poly sci emphasis from Pepperdine University as well as a Juris Doctorate from the University of Idaho.

Growing up amid the glorious backdrops and winter wonderlands of the Pacific Northwest has given Rebecca fantastic scenery and adventures to weave into her stories. She resides in the wild north with her husband, children, and extended family who inspire her every day-or at the very least give her plenty of characters to write about.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Buy the book at Amazon, B&N, BAM, IndieBound, or iBooks.

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Enticing Hart by Mae Hancock – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly drawn commenter via Rafflecopter will receive a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Hart Emile is tired of cruising for guys, living a soulless existence. He needs a change; so when an acquaintance gives him the number of the gay friendly Red Fox Ranch that’s hiring for staff, he heads south.

Oak Redman is eighteen years old and desperate to explore his awakening sexuality. The moment Hart lays eyes on the handsome young rancher he’s smitten. Not only is Oak hot, spirited and very persistent, he is also the ranch boss’s son and strictly off limits. Hart tries to fight his feelings and to respect his boss and the family who quickly become dear to him, but after Oak’s Grandma suggests he gets with Oak he can’t deny himself the most exciting and enticing man he has ever met.

Hart’s not the only man to have noticed how sweet and charming Oak Redman is. A family friend, Steve, is also anxious to have the affections of the young rancher. Can Hart work out Steve’s dark secrets before it’s too late and keep his job, his lover and his life?

Enjoy an excerpt:

The high-pitched choir of songbirds echoed through the forest as Oak and Hart settled on a rug, late in the afternoon. The two of them had found a clearing at the side of the forest that was near enough to the tress to offer shade, but also close to the water where they’d been fishing. They’d no sooner sat down than Hart spotted something on the other side of the riverbank moving in the grass.

“Shh…I just saw something. I think it’s an otter.” Hart absentmindedly put a hand on Oak’s lap to still him. He didn’t know which was more exciting, seeing the otters, or the burning hot palm that touched his thigh. Oak sat rigidly, glancing between the handsome cowboy’s hand and the otter family bounding along through the grass bank.

“Aren’t you going to get your camera?” Hart chivvied him along.

“Oh…yes.” Oak moved slowly, reaching for the black bag and pulling the camera out. He attached the lens calmly and crawled down the small decline toward the stony bank. He beckoned Hart to join him then focused the lens on the otters. He could hear his companion creeping through the grass behind him. Belly down on the mud, Oak steadied the camera as Hart came alongside him, and let out a sigh as he sank down next to Oak to watch.

The female had two pups with her. As their svelte bodies wound through the rocks to the water’s edge, the mother otter glided into the river without so much as a splash, and the two pups followed. Oak lost count of the photos he took, possibly hundreds of shots as they paddled through the murky depths cautiously. Their fur shiny and dark from absorbing water, making their frames sleeker as they gracefully bathed against the flow.

“Can you hear them?” Hart said with a smile that sprang from his lips right through to his big gray eyes.

“Yeah…” Oak whispered.

The otters called to one another with endearing high-pitched squeaks.

“You ever seen them hold hands?” Hart asked, his lips so close to Oak’s ear that he could feel Hart’s breath tickling the skin.

“No, but I’d love to get a picture of it.”

After about fifteen minutes of lying in the grass like a predator, Oak’s pointed his lens to follow the family towards some big flat stones that were warm from the sun. The otters rested on the smooth surface, shaking their fur, and squeaking to each other until eventually all three disappeared through the long grasses.

“Hart.” Oak turned to face his companion on the ground.


“I just realized I’m getting damp down here,” Oak said, letting out a snort.

“Me too…” A wicked smile came to his dark pink lips that spread out with luscious fullness as he broke into a chuckle.

At that moment elation filled Oak Watching the beautiful man was always a pleasure. The river tickled over rocks, murmuring quietly, and Hart’s lips were so close to Oak’s that he could feel each breath on his skin. Moving closer, Hart’s mouth brushed Oak’s so slightly, that Oak wasn’t even sure they’d actually touched.

With closed eyes, Oak parted his mouth willing the man’s tongue inside. Soft, plump lips pressed against his sending a shudder through his spine. His breath hitched with anticipation. A chaste kiss ended with Hart pulling away and shaking his head.

“You and your wildlife photography are leading me astray, young Mr. Redman.”

“Sorry…” Heat rushed up to Oak’s neck and face. He couldn’t understand why he was blushing. The soft, innocent kiss had been simple enough, but the highly-strung emotions behind it made him hot with every need possible. All of his senses were raw, responsive to the man’s presence. What would Hart’s muscles feel like under the man’s touch? Warm, golden skin would rub easily against his, and the comforting, arousing scent of pine would enhance each sensation further.

Hart stood; the blue T-shirt had ridden upward, exposing his flat stomach and hard abs. He tugged the material down, covering the dark treasure trail leading to his cargo pants, and dusted himself off, shedding grass from his top. Oak stared, then realized he should roll his tongue back in and get to his feet. He followed Hart back to the blanket, and flicked through some of the shots he’d taken of the otters.

“You want a look?”

“Sure.” Hart put hand out and took the camera instead of coming close to Oak but being three feet away still made his skin tingle with expectation. An expectation that would go unfulfilled.

About the Author:I enjoy writing both academic and fiction material. My research interests include focus on people who experience marginalization, both in historical societies and modern. Themes include disability, neurosis, homosexuality, addiction, mental illness, slavery and prostitution. The most important part of my work is creating multi-dimensional, believable characters that are able to build lasting romantic relationships against the odds. I want all my readers to laugh, cry and enjoy the erotic journey towards a happy ending.

Website: http://www.maehancock.com/

Blog: http://maehancockfiction.blogspot.co.uk/

Twitter: @Hancockfiction

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008234531718

Buy the book at Loose-ID

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Character by Amber Kell – Guest Blog

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by the publisher.



First I’d like to thank you for letting me visit here at Long and Short Reviews!

I think writing a blog post can be one of the most nerve-wracking things to do. For a story I can write whatever comes into my head but for a blog story I’m supposed to have a focus.  I’ve decided to write a bit about character. All stories begin with picking a character or two to wrap your plot around.

There are a series of questions an author has to ask to determine basic things about a character. What does your character look like? Is he tall or short or did you borrow his physique from a porn star? What is he good at? Does he have badass computer skills or maybe he can take down an army with one hand tied behind his back while tying his shoes with the other? Establish your character’s abilities by sharing what makes him interesting. It could be something small or a large secret he doesn’t want to share.

In Porter’s Reaper, Porter is just coming into his powers and as he learns to control his abilities he becomes more confident in himself. Is your character naturally confident or does he have hidden insecurities to address? Deep down everyone has something they are insecure about. How much that controls your character’s behavior is up to you.

Sometimes authors learn about their characters as they’re being written. Okay, maybe I’m the only author who does that, some authors do this planning thing I don’t understand. I even know some authors who do extensive character backgrounds. There is no right way to build a character as long as you can identify with the person you create long enough to tell his story. What’s your favorite type of character? Please share below!

While you’re thinking it over here is an excerpt from Porter’s Reaper. You can see a bit about my characters here.

Excerpt from Porter’s Reaper:

Hades shook his head and caused a ball of fire to form on his right index finger. He tossed it from hand to hand as he spoke. “I tried to get hold of him, but something is blocking my communication. I would’ve thought it some sort of protection spell to stop magic from invading campus, but it has a sense of wrongness about it. I hate to sound like a worrier, but I suspect something is wrong at the Academy.

If I send a representative to the meeting, no one will think anything about it if you start poking around. Besides, you have the best instincts of all my Reapers. I trust you implicitly.”

Alstair puffed up with pride. Sure, he knew Hades used praise to manipulate him but Alstair also knew the God of the Underworld truly respected his skills.

“To help you snoop around, I’m going to send a companion with you. Someone familiar with the campus.”

“I have been there before,” Alstair reminded him. “When I taught Elijah and when I took a few classes.” He’d taken some night courses in the latest magical discoveries. Alstair liked to stay at the top of his game.

“Yes, but you didn’t live there. You stayed at a place off campus.”

“True. I still prefer to do things alone,” Alstair said, not quite willing to give up the argument. He kept his tone respectful. If Hades got too frustrated with him, the results were never good. Alstair didn’t want to spend another century processing incoming souls. The thought of the paperwork alone made him want to die all over again.

“Be nice to him,” Hades warned. “He’s shy.”

“Who is it?” There were many creatures in the Underworld, most Alstair didn’t think needed to see the light of day. Starting a riot at the campus probably wouldn’t make them open to any of Hades’ suggestions.

“Porter!” Hades shouted. The god’s voice echoed and Alstair fought the urge to clap his hands over his ears. If he weren’t a god, Alstair would wonder if Hades had hearing problems. The god never seemed to notice when people winced over the volume of his voice.

A slim man with blond hair, a scruffy face and worried eyes ran up to them. He came to a sliding stop and bowed low to Hades. He flashed Alstair a questioning look before returning his attention to Hades. “What can I do for you, Sir?”

Sir? The kid was adorable. If Hades’ grin was anything to go by, the God of the Underworld shared Alstair’s assessment. Damn, he was going to be stuck with a newbie. The gleam in Hades’ smile didn’t promise anything but hardship.



1_26 portersreaper_800


This is book five in the A Wizard’s Touch series, see the full series listing here

Death is a minor inconvenience in the path to true love.

When the God of the Underworld sends Alstair back to the Academy to help pick out a new headmaster, he doesn’t mention he put Alstair in for the job. Angered but willing to keep his word, Alstair discovers the headmaster position comes with more knots of deception than a sailor’s rope.

Porter Exton had a crush on Alstair. He’d watched Alstair train Elijah through the window and had spent more than one night dreaming of the Reaper. However, dreams were set aside in order to discover the truth about his death and if the man who killed him is responsible for the other deaths at the school.

Two men with different backgrounds need to discover what they have in common if they hope to save themselves from plotting gods, egomaniacs and possible killers.


About the Author: Amber Kell has made a career out of daydreaming. It has been a lifelong habit she practices diligently as shown by her complete lack of focus on anything not related to her fantasy world building.

When she told her husband what she wanted to do with her life he told her to go have fun.

During those seconds she isn’t writing she remembers she has children who humor her with games of ‘what if’ and let her drag them to foreign lands to gather inspiration. Her youngest confided in her that he wants to write because he longs for a website and an author name—two things apparently necessary to be a proper writer.

Despite her husband’s insistence she doesn’t drink enough to be a true literary genius she continues to spin stories of people falling happily in love and staying that way.

She is thwarted during the day by a traffic jam of cats on the stairway and a puppy who insists on walks, but she bravely perseveres.

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How to Handle Negative Criticism by Christine Rains – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Christine will be awarding a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to one randomly selected winner during the tour via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

By Christine Rains

It’s going to happen sooner or later. One of your critique partners is going to say something is wrong about your manuscript or you get your first bad review. Negative criticism can make your whole world crumble around you.

So what do you do?

Cry, scream, eat a pint of ice cream, drown yourself in a Star Wars marathon, vow never to write again, and cry some more.

And while those are perfectly normal responses, they aren’t going to help you when you receive your next bad review. Here are five tips on how to handle negative criticism and not let it devour your soul.

1. Remember that not everyone is going to like what you write. People’s tastes are different. It’s just a fact of life. Move on and find someone who does share your vision.

2. Learn to tell constructive criticism from negative criticism. Take a step back and try to see what the person is saying. It might be something that needs improvement. Or it could just be that random jerk that left the bad review to be mean. If you can tell the difference and filter out the jerks, you’ll be much happier for it.

3. Develop a thick skin. Yes, I know you hear this a lot, but it’s a vital survival skill for writers. If you can remember the first two tips, you’re already on the right path. No matter how much it feels that way, criticism of your work isn’t personal.

4. Improve your own critiquing skills. Wait, you say? How does that help? Critiquing is a skill. The more you learn about how to be objective and constructive, the better you can handle being critiqued yourself.

5. If you do receive negative criticism, don’t engage the critic. A lot of writers don’t read reviews at all. That’s how they survive this rough journey. Delete those awful emails, ignore the one star reviews, and get rid of that discouraging critique partner.

Unfortunately negative criticism is part of a writer’s life, but you can overcome it. Don’t let it stop you.

Dice and Debauchery, Book 1

A weekend away at a convention is exactly what overworked student Morgan needs. Dressed as her character from her favorite online game, Morgan is braced—seriously, could her corset be tighter?—to meet the other players. As Lady Gyrfalcon, she’s ready for everything—except her intense attraction to Dean. A clandestine meeting in the hallway of the hotel and Morgan’s corset is looser but now she can’t breathe for entirely different reasons.

Utterly charmed, Morgan decides to roll the dice and indulge in a fantasy-worthy weekend of sexy roleplaying, scorching sex and life-altering orgasms. Still, through it all Morgan is too smart to believe the chemistry constantly stripping her of costumes and control can last more than the length of the convention. But if she wants to keep a relationship so intense she thought it only existed in fiction, she’s going to have to let go of her cool-headed logic and allow herself to fall far and fast for the perfect guy.

Enjoy an excerpt:

Stomping out of the bathroom, I froze upon seeing Russell standing in the alcove between the drinking fountains across from me. Dressed as Snidely Whiplash, he had the perfect sneer for the character.

“Come to kidnap me and tie me to the train tracks?” I folded my arms and stepped out of the way of a group of girls going into the bathroom.

“Don’t tempt me. It would save us all a lot of trouble.” Russell’s sharp and bitter tone carried a phantom slap.

I hesitated, weighing the situation. He obviously didn’t like me, but why? I hadn’t felt such hate when we first met, no matter that we were playing enemies. Did something so horrible happen between him and Emily, he was taking it out on me? But why did it feel more personal than that?

“Okay.” I took in a deep, slow breath and let it out. “Clearly you wanted to talk to me since you’re waiting here. What did you want to say?”

“End this thing between you and Dean now. Today at least. Don’t drag it out. You’ll only cause more damage if you do.”

Not what I expected in the least. What did he have against me and Dean? Did he not think I was good enough for his cousin?

“What’s between Dean and I is our own business.” There. A mature and reasonable reply. I wasn’t going to resort to growling back at him.

“And what is between you, hm?” Russell raised his comical eyebrows. It looked silly and somehow foreboding. “Girlfriend and boyfriend? Or just a con fling?”

About the Author:

Christine Rains is a writer, blogger, and geek mom. She has four degrees which help nothing with motherhood but make her a great Jeopardy player. As an avid gamer, she’s either going on adventures with her son or rolling dice with friends. Christine is a proud member of Untethered Realms and S.C.I.F.I. She has several short stories and novellas published. Loose Corset is the first book of her geeky and hilarious Dice & Debauchery series.

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Buy the book at Ellora’s Cave.

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Load the Dice by Moriah Gemel – Spotlight and Giveaway

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Moriah will be awarding a $25 Interlude Press GC to a randomly drawn commenter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour. This book was first available online as an episodic, serialized novel—it is now available in its entirety!

MediaKit_BookCover_LoadTheDiceEric left the BDSM scene years ago because he couldn’t find the right partner, opting instead to meet men in quiet coffee shops and piano bars. But when his friend invites him to a posh hook-up party, he meets first time sub Jamie, who he convinces to detail his sexual fantasies during a passionate night together.

The pair soon embark on a relationship that introduces Jamie to the BDSM scene, and plays out his fantasies one by one. But as they approach the final fantasy, will Eric be able to walk away?

Enjoy an excerpt:

“Are you willing to submit to me, Jamie?”

Jamie visibly shivers, his mouth dropping open a little bit at Eric’s tone. He’s shifting into Dominant mode now, drawing his body up taller, wider, lifting his chin and letting the power he keeps in reserve flow through him. He’s not holding back now—he’s completely in charge, and he wants to make sure Jamie can feel it, even if he can’t see a thing.

“Yes,” Jamie whispers, with barely a breath.

“And do you understand that if at any time you don’t feel safe, if you feel we’re not acting sanely, or if you stop consenting, that you have every right to stop play?” It’s the core tenant of BDSM. SSC: Safe, Sane, and Consensual. If play isn’t all of those things, it’s not okay unless expressly agreed upon ahead of time—and that’s crossing into hardcore territory that isn’t for beginners. It’s best if they stick to the basics for now.

Jamie nods his head and agrees again, faintly and barely coherent. But it’s enough.

“Good.” Eric leans down and kisses him, light and teasing, barely brushing their lips. Jamie whimpers and opens his mouth in invitation, but Eric doesn’t take it.

“You have to earn that, Jamie,” he says, pulling back. Jamie breathes in shakily, and Eric hums, pleased. “Don’t worry, it’s your first time. We’ll go easy.” Eric steps back, pushing the box out of the way with his foot. “I want you on your knees.”

About the Author:MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_LoadTheDice
Moriah Gemel has developed a dedicated following for her realistic, sexually-charged stories over twelve years in online fan communities. Passionate about a realistic depiction of BDSM, her goal is to both entertain and educate readers about the BDSM community.

She is married and has a young son.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Google+

Buy the book at Amazon.

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Fiction by Tory Richards – Guest Blog and Giveaway

A special welcome to our friend Tory Richards who is visiting us today.  Her newest release, Wild Marauders, is released today.  See how you can receive a free ebook below– trust me, it’s easy-peasy!


 According to the Webster online dictionary (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/fiction) fiction means: written stories about people and events that are not real: literature that tells stories which are imagined by the writer: something that is not true. Why am I defining fiction? Because so many reviews that I’ve read lately clearly show the reader has forgotten what fiction is.

I’ve been doing a lot of reading, for research, but before I get the book I check out the 1&2 star reviews. What I found is that the reader leaving that low rating, unflattering review has forgotten what fiction is. Comments such as, ‘so unbelievable’, ‘that could never happen’, and ‘I know that’s not true because—’ stick out in my mind. I feel bad for the author, and I find myself saying, but it’s FICTION!

So people please, remember that when you’re leaving a review, anything can happen in fiction. It’s the writer’s imagination at work.

About the Author: 1_15 bio pic

I refer to myself as the grandma who writes smut. I knew from an early age that I wanted to be a writer when I grew up, but real life got in the way including raising a daughter and working a real job to pay real bills. Though writing remained a hobby for me, I wasn’t able to devote the time I needed to make it go any further. It wasn’t until my grown daughter and niece encouraged me to pursue my options about getting published.

I was born in Maine but have lived most of my life in Florida. Three years ago I retired from Disney, sold my house, and moved in with my daughter and her family. I have my own woman-cave, complete with four cats, where I can now write as much as I want to. I devote my free time to family, friends, and writing.

Now I’d like to move on and give you some information about my newest release. For anyone who leaves a comment with their email addy I will send you a coupon for a free ebook. Offer ends one month from the date of this post.


1_15 Wild Mauraders 400x600His life is filled with danger and chaos. Her life is quiet and ordinary. When they meet nothing is the same!

When a prospect kidnaps Kat thinking she’s a doctor, Kat finds herself under the protection of the club’s president. Lynch likes Kat’s spunk and full curves but when she steals his Harley to escape he has no choice but to follow club rules and deal out punishment. Tempers erupt between them, passions explode, and punishment becomes the sweetest ecstasy!



Enjoy an excerpt:

The woman in question was still on the ground, unwittingly bringing attention to her large tits as she lay on her backside panting. Her wild blonde hair was half-up, half-down, and with a huff she brushed it out of her face and eyes, which were shooting daggers of blue lightning up at us. When my gaze returned to hers, she had enough fury in her eyes to damn me to hell and back. If she recognized me she didn’t show it.

I shouldn’t have, but I smiled.

She got to her feet on her own steam and headed straight for Chicken. “You dumb shit! I couldn’t breathe!” It was clear that she was going to hit him, which just wouldn’t do. No one hit a brother, even a prospect, and got away with it. Chicken actually took a step back, producing laughter from Wizard and Tank. It was clear her attack had caught him by surprise. “You could have killed me!”

Just as she raised her hands to hit him I stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist hauling her off her feet and back against me. I immediately noticed the difference between her and the skinny whores that hung around club. Thicker waist, curvier hips, and right now her fleshy ass was rubbing against me, and any time I had something this sweet against my dick I got hard.

“Who the hell is in charge here?” she snapped, digging her nails into my arm and struggling wildly, obviously too angry to appreciate her situation. “Kidnapping is against the law, you jerks!” She tried to pull my arm from around her waist, throwing her head back with purpose.

She wasn’t scared, just mad as hell.


Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Wild-Marauders-MC-Tory-Richards-ebook/dp/B00R253314/ref=asap_B002DBFNUQ?ie=UTF8

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/502192

Tory Richards Website/Blog – http://www.toryrichards.com


Sunsinger by Robyn Bachar – Q&A and Giveaway

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Robyn will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? If so, what do you do about it?

I usually hit a block either about 30k words into a story, or after the second act. When I’m stuck I put the scene in question in brackets, like [fight scene here] and move on to another section of the plot. Then I come back to the problem area later when I’m ready to write it.

Are you working on anything at the present you would like to tell us about?

My March release is an erotic paranormal romance called Bite Me. It’s a f/f/m ménage set in a post-zombie-apocalypse Chicago. The heroine is a vampire video gamer who used to run a rescue org for fighting dogs, and her love interests are a lesbian cop and a vampire composer. It’s a lot of fun.

What do you like to do when you are not writing?

I’m addicted to my X-Box. I predict I’ll be playing Dragon Age: Inquisition for the foreseeable future. I played through the first two games dozens of times. I love slaying monsters and saving the kingdom.

How many books have you written? Which is your favorite?

Sunsinger is my eighth book with Samhain. I love all of my books, and Sunsinger is my current favorite. It was fun to wrap up the trilogy and write everyone’s happily ever after.

Ebook or print? And why?

Both. Each format has its advantages. Ebooks allow me to try out new authors and series without worrying that I’ll end up with a half-read book taking up space on my bookshelves. The last time I moved I had over 50 boxes of books, and it’s so much easier to move an e-library. ;-) But for books by my favorite authors—the ones I know I’ll re-read and cherish—there’s something satisfying about holding the pages in my hands.

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

When writing I prefer music without lyrics, otherwise I get distracted and start following along with the music instead of concentrating on my work. I have a film scores channel on Pandora that I like, and a Lindsey Stirling station.

What are your favorite TV shows?

I have a lot of TV addictions. I watch Grimm, Sleepy Hollow, Gotham, The Black List, Agents of SHIELD, Forever, How to Get Away with Murder, and Doctor Who, to name a few. I’m also addicted to reality shows that deal with food, like The Taste and Top Chef.

If you could keep a mythical/ paranormal creature as a pet, what would you have?

Oooh. I think my inner child would want a unicorn, but they’re kind of large and would be difficult to house. Maybe something smaller. I wouldn’t mind my own snarky flying lizard buddy like Loiosh in Steven Brust’s Vlad books.

Favorite color?

Pink is my signature color.

Favorite non-alcoholic drink.

Coffee! Coffee is essential to life. Though usually by the time I’m done with it it barely tastes like coffee, because I’m heavy on the flavored creamers. I love peppermint, French vanilla, and mocha.

1_15 sunsinger Cover_SunsingerHer desire unites them. Her secret could destroy them all.

The lord.

The sole survivor of the Sunsinger massacre, Lord Degalen Fairren spends his days reading tales of the family he never knew. When a rival house threatens to enslave Cyprena, Galen is forced to pull his nose out of his books and enter into an alliance with House Morningstar, and a dangerous mission to save his world.

The assassin.

Lady Andelynn Harrow isn’t House Morningstar’s eldest or prettiest daughter, but she is the deadliest. After her father’s murder, Andee must defend her new house and mate—the shy, reluctant Galen—but every battle risks revealing her terrible secret.

The slave.

Malcolm gets his first taste of freedom when the Cy’ren recruit him to locate the cure to a deadly virus—and feels the burn of desire for Galen, the lord he can never have, and for Andee, who awakens memories of a long-lost first love.

The danger they face fuels the heat between them, but with Cyprena’s fate hanging in the balance, the race to find the cure could come with devastating costs.

Warning: Contains a blushing, virgin lord, a sexy geek, and an empathic assassin who always brings lube on a mission.

Enjoy an excerpt:

Cursing, Andee shoved Galen behind cover next to Malcolm and then knelt beside them. She ordered Sharp to lay down covering fire. When the marine shouted for her to go Andee leapt into action and used Sharp’s distraction to her advantage. Andee dropped two guards before they could react and Sharp’s pistol took out a third—good thing the man was a decent shot, because she didn’t want to fall to friendly fire. But the fourth guard was a tougher foe, his energy empty of fear or hesitation. He fired at Galen and Malcolm’s hiding place, and Andee threw herself in harm’s way. The bolt burned a ragged line across her stomach—ugly but not deep—and she swallowed the scream of pain that bubbled up and channeled her adrenaline into a kick to his knee. The guard stumbled as he raised his rifle for a second shot, but before he could fire Galen tackled him to the floor.

Andee lurched forward and cut the guard’s throat. She sheathed her blades then took Galen’s arm and pulled him away, checking him for injuries.

“A’gra, you’re wounded,” he blurted. She flinched and snarled in pain when he touched the burn. Andee staggered, nearly overwhelmed with the force of Galen’s concern for her, and then she caught his hands and steeled her shields.

“It’s all right. Just a graze,” she assured him through gritted teeth.

“Why did you do that? You could have been killed!”

“It’s a privilege to die for my house,” she quoted grimly. Andee stepped back as Malcolm approached them, wide eyed but uninjured. “Are you ready to go?” she asked him.


“Let’s move out.”

About the Author: 1_15 sunsinger AuthorPic_Robyn_BacharRobyn Bachar enjoys writing stories with soul mates, swords, spaceships, vampires, and gratuitous violence against the kitchen sink. Her paranormal romance Bad Witch series, historical paranormal romance series Bad Witch: The Emily Chronicles, and spicy space opera romance trilogy Cy’ren Rising are available from Samhain Publishing. Her books have finaled in PRISM Contest for Published Authors, the Passionate Plume Contest, and twice in the EPIC eBook Awards.

As a gamer, Robyn has spent many hours rolling dice, playing rock-paper-scissors, and slaying creatures in mmorpgs.

Twitter | Blog | Facebook | Google+ | Goodreads | LibraryThing | Shelfari | Amazon Author Page

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Tristan’s Lover by Nicoline Tiernan – Spotlight and Giveaway

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Nicoline will be awarding $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

1_13 tristan Cover_TristansLoverTristan has all the time in the world to be in love. He’s going to live eternally—that’s what vampires do. And now that he’s found his soul mate in Eric he plans on living happily forever after. But not all stories can have a fairytale ending, especially when Eric’s father, the lycan king, has declared war against all vampires. Will their love survive?

Warnings: MM, shifter sex, BDSM elements

Enjoy an excerpt:

Eric rushed to the doors. They were dented severely, but still remained closed. “Tough doors.” Bombshell scratched his head. Eric kicked at the doors in frustration. They squeaked open and fell off their hinges with a resounding crash. “Not tough, just pretending.” said Bombshell.

Eric ran through the opening only to have his gas mask knocked off his face. He hit the floor hard. He hadn’t expected resistance on the other side. He shook his head to clear the stars that danced in front of his eyes. The owner of the weapon that sent Eric reeling stood over him, a mace raised to deal the final blow. Eric caught the sudden movement before the guard did as Bombshell landed a flying tackle around the guard’s waist.

Eric was up and stumbling toward the center of the room where he hoped to find Tristan. Through the haze of the smoke and a muddled head, he could see a figure bent over as though genuflecting and chained to the ground. “Tristan?” He received no answer. He staggered to the figure and dropped to his knees before him. Tristan’s clothes were torn and bloody. His body was limp and lifeless. “Tristan,” Eric said touching the hair matted with blood. He prayed that he wasn’t too late. He gently lifted Tristan’s face with his hands desperately searching for any signs of life.

Tristan opened his eyes and looked up into Eric’s face. “Hey, you look like hell.”

“You’ve never looked better.” He pulled Tristan into a hug. “Let’s get you out of here.” Eric tugged on the chains holding Tristan. He knew he could break them in his lycan form, but he didn’t have the strength to change.

Gun shots rang out behind Eric. He turned to see who was doing the shooting when he was lifted bodily from the floor and sent flying across the room.

About the Author: Nicoline has written 8 New Adult and ménage Hot Lunches for Lost Goddess Publishing, and she’s currently working on a series of MM novellas. The paranormal has always fascinated Nic and she’s looking forward to exploring fantasy worlds and the desires within. Nic can be found on Facebook

Facebook | Facebook Author Page | Publisher

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Hot Highlanders and Wild Warriors – an anthology edited by Delilah Devlin – Spotlight and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. A randomly drawn commenter will receive: $50 Amazon Gift Card; signed copy of Smokin’ Hot Firemen edited by Delilah Devlin; free ebook: Jarrod Bancroft Book II by Lizzie Ashworth; signed copy of Duty and Desire: Military Erotic Romance provided by Connie Wilkins; MJ Fredrick will provide a free copy of one of her western books, print or ebook—reader’s choice; signed copy of Wild, Wild Women of the West by Layla Chase; $5 Amazon gift card from Susannah Chapin; signed copy of The General’s Wife: An American Revolutionary Tale by Regina Kammer.

Men devoting themselves to their true love through the art of courtly love is the ultimate in romance. Hot Highlanders and Wild Warriors is filled with wild knights and Scottish warriors whose courage on the battlefield is outmatched only by their ardor for their ladyloves! Readers will unleash their fantasies of olden days where men wearing heavy armor or thick tartans sent a spirited young maiden’s (or lonely widow’s) heart fluttering. These bravehearts were prized for their physical strength and men were judged for their fierce loyalty and unshakeable honor. Crusaders, highlanders, Normans and Saxons, tournament fighters, vikings, and hunky Mongols astride stallions in search of adventure and love all populate the pages of this steamy read.

“Pleasure in Surrender” by Delilah Devlin
After the lady of the keep bars her gates to the barbarian the king commands she wed, the half-Viking knight scales the walls of her heart

“Wicked” by Susannah Chapin
The strong-willed daughter of a Scottish Laird learns it isn’t her surrender her father’s most powerful but wounded warrior craves

“The Keeper of the Keys” by Axa Lee
A Briton queen learns to lay aside the household keys of her responsibilities and ask her Saxon warlord husband for what she craves

“The Maiden’s Kiss” by Layla Chase
A Viking warrior tempts fate and his own control when an Icelandic maiden asks to be tutored in the art of kissing

“My Loveliest Vision” by Renee Luke
Despite a daunting affliction, the lady of the keep will protect her father’s holdings from a resolute knight come to claim what he was promised

“The Invasion of Nefyn” by Lizzie Ashworth
A Briton woman risks rape and death at the hands of invading Saxons in hopes of a visit from her warrior husband

“The Promise of Memory” by Regina Kammer
A Roman slave finds freedom in fantasies of a knight in the imperial guard—a warrior who evokes memories of a long lost love

“On My Honor” by Beatrix Ellroy
When a wounded knight is offered sanctuary by a widowed healer, the pleasure she also offers may strain his honor

“A Hawk in Flight” by Connie Wilkins
The Lady of Aragotsotn paid tribute to the Mongol conqueror to save her people, but her falcon-fierce heart remains undefeated—though it might be won

“To Love a King’s Man” by Emma Jay
At the Highland Games of 1589, a young widow risks all for a chance to win the love of a bastard favored by the king

“The Bodyguard” by Jacqueline Brocker
As a ninja stalks through the palace corridors, the daughter of a samurai lord is drawn to her wounded, pensive bodyguard

“Broken Vows” by Anya Richards
A marriage of convenience leads to most inconvenient desires and a threat to one knight’s immortal soul

“Poetry and Amber” by Axa Lee
A mighty passion ignites along the Volga River between a Celtic witch and the Rus king to whom she’s been traded

“The Squire” by Cela Winter
While traveling in France, a knight’s secretive new squire makes him question everything he knows about himself

From “Pleasure in Surrender” by Delilah Devlin:

The first missive arrived without fanfare, passed through the iron bars of the barbican by a lone messenger dressed entirely in black.

Sir Geade read the note, lifted a graying brow and then passed the small scroll to Lady Edwina, who held it beneath the oak table to read it. Not that everyone wasn’t aware of the queer fact that she could read.

Prepare for a wedding or a siege.

With all gazes resting on her, Edwina schooled her expression into a neutral mask. “Should I thank him for the warning, Geade?”

Sir Geade snorted. “He gives us time to retreat to the keep, stock the larders and call our neighbors for assistance. Perhaps we should.”

“What sort of warrior would give away his plan?” she murmured, not the least bit alarmed. Not yet.

“Either a fool or one who’s supremely confident.”

She traced the bold scrawl scratched across the parchment with her fingertip, knowing instinctively the bold knight had written the message himself. No proud scribe would pen a note so spare.

Grimvarr had been written across the bottom—as if she should already know his name and the two syllables should strike fear. “An odd name for a Norman knight.” As she swept from the hall, she would never have admitted that the word wedding had caused her more alarm than siege.

In response to the warning, Edwina ordered the stores replenished and the flocks of sheep brought closer to the keep, but otherwise went about her business without worry.

Who was this baseborn knight with designs on her demesne? Her overlord had assured her the choice of husband from among the eligible men in the region—once her grief was passed. That Edwina had every intention of nursing her grief for as many years as she could was a secret she kept to herself.

But by the time the second missive arrived, she’d learned a thing or two about the mysterious Grimvarr. Lord Alred’s steward had been a font of gossip concerning the knight who’d earned the Duke of Normandy’s trust by barreling into the royal pretender to save him from an assassin’s arrow. That act had earned him the gift of her demesne. A fact she found humiliating to learn in such a manner, but since her overlord had yet to apprise her directly of the news, she preferred to assume it was only rumor. How could the pretender give a gently bred woman to a barbarian?

Grimvarr was a Viking—or at least half the demon race, his father having abducted a Norman maiden and returned her promptly to her father when she’d spoiled his enjoyment by getting with child. And although he’d been raised by a Norman peer, he chose to dress in the fur and skins of his barbarian father.

No doubt Alred’s man had embellished the tale to cause Edwina worry. His master would love to see her squirm after she’d refused his latest suggested mate, claiming she’d marry the pig keeper before she’d wed a man who’d already sent two wives to the grave in childbirth.

While she kept her chin high and her comments derisive of her new “suitor” whenever he was mentioned in company, she’d suffered nightmares over the days before the second note arrived.

This message was longer.

I bring 25 knights, a hundred bowmen, swords and shield to arm every man, and one siege machine. Yield to me or face consequences.

Geade grunted, but worry creased his rugged brow.

“’Tis a love letter,” she muttered, determined to keep the bastard knight’s looming menace from raising alarm among her people. “He intends to impress me. No different than any of the other preening knights who’ve tried to woo me.”

“Perhaps he simply gives you fair warning, milady.” At her reproving glance, Sir Geade shrugged. “Our requests for reinforcements from Alred and Rathburn have gone unanswered.”

“They simply need time—”

“They know he approaches. Perhaps they fear him.”

“He bluffs!” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “What landless bastard commands such a force?”

He sighed. “Perhaps you are right. However, I would sleep easier if you remained inside the walls—at least for the coming weeks,” he amended when she gave him a scowl.

It rankled that her freedoms were curtailed by an upstart. Still, it was worrisome no one had answered her calls for assistance. Was he truly so imposing?

Her answer came one morning when the mists melted away to reveal glints of the armor and weapons of the force that spread across the meadow below the castle’s dirt motte. Guards had alerted Sir Geade, who’d awoken her before dawn to tell her they had visitors.

As she strode the length of the curtain wall peering down at the small army, she felt her first real frisson of unease. It seemed the knight hadn’t been bluffing after all.

Another note was passed. She held out her hand for the message, broke the seal, and unrolled the parchment. After a quick glance, she ripped the message to bits, tossing it over the castle walls. She hoped Lord Grim’s eyesight was good, because she didn’t want her response to his demand that she open the gates missed.

Indeed, a horse burst from the line of mounted knights and rushed forward to a spot well beyond her archers’ aim, where he reined in his horse and stared up at the curtain wall. The man astride the huge black warhorse fixed her with a glare she couldn’t miss despite the distance, and she shivered. Was it him? Good Lord, he was large, freakishly so, with shoulders made to appear even more broad by the black bear sash he wore over his armor. His arms were bared except for a wide golden band surrounding one thick bicep. His thighs were like tree trunks as he straddled his great warhorse. There was little she could tell about his face other than the strong jut of his chin and sinfully dark gaze hidden behind the nosepiece of his conical Viking helm. Long dark hair waved from beneath his helmet.

As she gazed down, an unexpected thrill pulsed through her. Completely unwanted. Irresistibly mystifying. Why after all the suitors she’d ousted from her keep, did this one make her breath hitch? Edwina drew a deep breath and slowly shook her head. It was only the thrill of the challenge he presented. She lifted her chin and turned her back.

Geade groaned beside her. “You’d add insult to your refusal?”

“He bluffs,” she said with a wave of her hand even though she felt the giant’s wicked gaze burning on her back. “We have the advantage. My mother withstood my father for months. The walls are strong, our stores of foodstuffs and weapons replete—thanks to his warnings. We have only to outwait him.”

Geade’s gaze went to the meadow; his gray brows furrowed with doubt. “I don’t think this knight will wage a gentleman’s campaign to win your heart, milady.”

Edwina rolled her eyes. Her mother’s siege had been a woman’s ploy to force a husband she wanted to accede to her demands. And she’d won. She didn’t need the old grizzled knight who’d witnessed her mother’s strategy to remind her this time was far different.

Still, a siege was a siege regardless of the motives of either side. “We will not open the gates to this barbarian. Our neighbors will learn of this outrage, and they will come to our rescue. That or Lord Alred will put a stop to the Viking’s campaign. I have his promise of protection.”

Geade’s breath whistled between his pursed lips. “I think not, milady.”

At the jerk of his chin, she turned to gaze beyond the line of the Viking’s contingent. Alred’s banners waved behind them.

“He supports his suit?” she said, feeling faint.

Geade snorted. “He’s likely come to enjoy the battle. The tale of your lady mother’s victory provided entertainment for years.”

Edwina pressed her lips together, not liking the faint humor dancing in Geade’s eyes. “I’m not my mother, and I’m not withholding my hand to ensure that I keep my wealth separate from my husband’s. I’ll not take a husband I don’t want.”

“Are you sure this is the battle you wish to fight, milady?”

Geade was her best friend, but she’d ignored his imploring that she find a husband to rule with her. She’d been blessed the first time with Malcolm. A man who’d left the running of the castle, the overseeing of the harvests, the tallying of the tithes to her while he’d drunk himself to death.

His excesses had nearly beggared them, and yet she’d managed to hide the extent of their wealth, and had hidden away enough to see them through hard times after his untimely death. Enough to allow her to pay a widow’s pension to Lord Alred to ensure her period of mourning was respected. The fact she’d just made her annual payment galled, seeing his forces aligned behind the Viking’s.

Edwina didn’t flinch from the sight. Men betrayed women all the time. With a final internal reminder that she was indeed her mother’s daughter, she shook back her hair. “Send the bastard our response.”

Geade’s lips firmed. She knew he wanted to say more, but he also knew when to keep silent. His cheeks billowed around an exasperated breath, but he nodded, raised an arm and dropped it. The arm of the catapult parked in the middle of the bailey snapped upward, and the contents held in the scooped arms sailed high over the walls.

Her own men ducked, faces screwing into ferocious grimaces, but once the contents cleared the wall, they all turned toward the army at the bottom of the hill.

Shouts rang up and down the line, and arms rose to shield eyes as they stared upward. Edwina smirked as the foul contents of the castle’s jakes rained down on the Viking’s men. “Let the game begin.”

After a nerve-wracking day that she’d spent supervising meals and finding places inside the bailey and keep for everyone to sleep, she was exhausted. But the moment she’d doused her candle and lain down on her bed, her doubts crowded in.

She would never allow her people to suffer through a long siege. It being May, they were needed in their fields. No, she had perhaps a week before she’d have to concede. She eased open her fists and drew long breaths. Sleep was what she needed. Perhaps in the morning she would hit upon a scheme to delay the inevitable or plead her case to Alred. She rolled onto her side, tucked her hands beneath her face and stared into the dark corners of her room.

Geade wondered about her objection. So did she. Was it only willful pride, tweaked by the fact she had no choice in the matter? It wasn’t as though she didn’t want a man, someday, to share her burdens and her bed. Then she remembered the sight of Grimvarr, so large and fiercely masculine.

Alone, she admitted a moment’s wild excitement. Malcolm had never made her yearn for his embrace. And yet this Viking had somehow crept into her bed. What would it be like to submit to a man like him? One strong enough to subdue her, one who caused more than a flutter of heat to curl inside her womb?

A draft brushed her face. She’d closed the door and latched the pigskin curtain over her narrow window. A scuff of a foot had her stiffening, but she heard no more above the pounding of her heart. She wasn’t alone. “Who’s there?” she whispered.

“I think you know,” came a deep, rumbling drawl.
About the Editor:Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of erotica and erotic romance. She has published over a hundred thirty erotic stories in multiple genres and lengths, and is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Montlake, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing. In May 2014, she adds Grand Central to her list of publishers when Her Only Desire releases!

Her short stories have appeared in multiple Cleis Press collections, including Lesbian Cowboys, Girl Crush, Fairy Tale Lust, Lesbian Lust, Passion, Lesbian Cops, Dream Lover, Carnal Machines, Best Erotic Romance (2012), Suite Encounters, Girl Fever, Girls Who Score, Duty and Desire and Best Lesbian Romance of 2013. For Cleis Press, she edited 2011’s Girls Who Bite, and 2012’s She Shifters and Cowboy Lust. In 2013, she added Smokin’ Hot Firemen and High Octane Heroes.


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