Desire and Deception by Sharon Buchbinder
With crime in her blood and passion in her heart, was it love--or sexual obsession?
Similar in heat levels to noir movies like Body Heat and The Postman Always Rings Twice, my first novel, erotic thriller Desire and Deception differs because it ends on an upbeat note. In Desire and Deception, polar opposites sex siren Isabel (Izzy) Ramirez and goody-two-shoes Sarah Wright-Rosen become fast friends and seem destined to be BFFs until Izzy’s terrible secret is unearthed--literally and figuratively. Convinced that she is unworthy of redemption, Izzy goes down a take no prisoners’ path, halted only by her younger lover, Sean Richards. Izzy discovers the redemptive power of love and realizes that she can change, despite her horrific past.
For her part, Sarah discovers shades of gray in her formerly black and white world and learns the powers of forgiveness and love can transform not only how she sees the world, but also her own self-image. In the end, Izzy becomes more like “good girl” Sarah--and Sarah becomes more like her “bad girl” friend. Izzy is the larger than life embodiment of all that is forbidden to “good girls”: she embraces her sexuality and desires and takes control of her life and the men in it--and pleases herself. Sarah is “everywoman”: she works hard, plays by the rules, collaborates and works by consensus--and wants to please others.
This binary, yes/no reasoning is faulty, but I believe many women struggle with this duality in our lives. The question is not to be or not to be, but who are we supposed to be versus who do we want to be? Our role models may or may not be good ones, depending on how healthy our parents’ upbringing was. If you come from a dysfunctional household, one with crime spoken daily, can you break out of that mold? Or are you ever going to be able to explode from those constraints? Likewise, if your home appeared to be the epitome of perfection to the outside world, but was hell behind closed doors, can you ever overcome the damages of a self-righteous hypocrite?
As seen with Izzy and Sarah, with love and honest relationships we can grow into who we want to be, not who we think we should be. On behalf of Izzy and Sarah who have been badgering me to tell their stories for quite some time now, I hope you will look for Desire and Deception at Red Sage Publishing http://www.eredsage.com/store/index.html.
Here’s an excerpt to tease you…
Prologue
Pushing her hair back and shielding her eyes from the glare of the setting Florida sun, the woman watched with satisfaction as her soon to be ex-boss, Bobbi, drunk and disoriented, jounced up and down on the runaway Jet Ski, heading to God only knew where. She glanced down at the scratches on her arms. The bitch had fought and clawed like a cat, trying to get away from the bottle of booze. Cost of doing business, worth the minor injuries. Just a few more minutes, and the sharks would be in a feeding frenzy. Bobbi’s screams for help melded in with the sounds of gulls laughing overhead.
She turned to the man at the wheel of the boat who sat transfixed by the sight of Bobbi turning into a speck in the distance. “Do you believe how long she’s held on? She should have been a rodeo queen instead of a department chair.”
His handsome face twisted in a snarl. “You think this is funny?”
“Since when did you grow a conscience?”
He shook his head. “I’ve killed a lot of people in my years, but this has got to be one of the sickest ways I’ve ever seen.”
“You, who have cut men’s heads off without batting an eye, think this is sick?”
He shuddered. “I’d rather have my head cut off than drown. You have time to think about it as you’re going under.”
She patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. She’s so drunk, she’ll pass out before she hits the water.”
The last sounds of the Jet Ski faded into the sea breeze.
He turned the engine of the cigarette boat over. “Well?”
“Not so fast.” She ran her fingers under the straps of her swim suit and slid them down, exposing her big, beautiful and all natural breasts. She began rubbing her nipples. “I have another idea.”
“What are you doing? We’re out here in the middle of the water.” His head snapped from side to side. “Someone might see you.”
“That adds to the fun.” She stepped out of the suit and ran her right hand down her stomach, between her thighs and rubbed her hardening nub. “Oh, baby, this is the icing on the cake.” She pulled her middle finger out of her wet, throbbing quim and licked it. “Delicious. Want a taste?”
His eyes glazed and he stared at her silky triangle. The bulge in his swim trunks belied his protests.
“How about a little lick?” She leaned back on the side of the boat, spread her legs and slipped two fingers into her hot center.
Voice thick, he growled, “Get over here.”
“No.” She pulled at her nipple and moaned, her fingers sliding deeper, faster across her tingling clit. “You come here.”
In one swift step, he was at her side, and dragged her back to the captain’s chair. “You want to play? We’ll play.”
Pummeling at his shoulders, she tried to push him away, bend him to her will. She was in charge here, not him.
He flipped her onto her stomach, bent her over the steering wheel, and pressed against her with all of his weight. His lips at her ear, his voice ragged, he said, “Your pussy is going to be hurting when I’m done with you.”
With that, the full length of his rock hard cock rammed deep into her, sending shock waves through her core. Simultaneously, he twisted her nipple so hard she saw stars. More, she needed more.
“You call that hard?”
“I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk for a week.” He gave her nipple an extra hard pinch. “You are such a little slut, you want it harder, you’ve got it.”
Sweaty, slick, she writhed against his thighs as he pistoned into her, slamming her into the unyielding metal, punishing her pussy and bruising her nipples. Her breaths came in harsh hot gasps.
"Harder."
The sky turned blinding white. She closed her eyes and screamed with pleasure.
The man grunted, shuddered and fell forward in a sweaty mass.
She opened her eyes, watched a cloud of startled pelicans lift off from their mangrove roosts and giggled. She felt light-headed, as if she’d been using uppers. “We scared the birds.”
Limp, the now useless man slid out of her pussy and shoved her off his lap. “The only scary thing out here is you.”
She stretched and grinned. “You’re right about that. My work is finished here.” She dusted her hands off. “No one will ever be able to connect me to Bobbi’s death.”
Thursday, March 31, 2011
April Fooling Around
Hi I’m Rue Allyn. Here’s what my website bio says about me. “Author of erotic romance, Rue Allyn holds an advanced degree in Middle English Literature. She was introduced to erotic stories during her studies of Chaucer and his contemporaries and has been a devotee of popular erotica ever since. She is happily married to her sweetheart of many, many years. She and her husband share the home of two cats, who condescend to allow Rue to feed them and clean their litter box. They occasionally permit her to pet them but demand her love and attention as their right. She is in awe of their feline ability to dominate with half a glance or a mere twitch of tail. Insatiably curious, an avid reader and traveler Rue loves to hear from readers about your favorite books and real life adventures.” As you can tell from my dominant cats and the insanity of graduate studies I’m a bit of a masochist. However, as an author, I’m definitely the one in charge, and I get a real thrill out of making life as difficult as possible for my characters. This is as true in my June Release, The Widow’s Revenge, as it is in my current releases, The Catnapped Lover and Devil May Clare both written as Sue Charnley. You can visit my websites http://RueAllyn.com and http://www.SusanCharnley.com for longer excerpts from all of my books. Below is a short sample from The Catnapped Lover, the first of my April Fools for Love Duet. BTW, if any of you saw my Susan Charnley blog over at TRS yesterday, you already know I love April Fool’s Day. Leave a comment and tell me how you celebrate the day. Include an e-mail address where I can reach you and I’ll get in touch with you about where to send an SASEfor swag. Sorry, US postal addresses only please.
Set up—Our hero, wealthy, powerful Adam Talcott, who’s never done a days’ physical labor in his life has just spent the night at a farm where he’s taken work as a hired hand. Our heroine, his employer’s niece, has just come to wake him up for his first full day of work.
Rue entered the dim room where Talcott slept. His first day at work and already he was late. She could almost sympathize, because it wasn’t his fault. Few people realized just how early 5:00 A.M. was. Still, she wasn’t cutting Mr. Adam Talcott any slack.
She peered through the stingy light cast from the open door and found the foot of the bed. She grabbed on and started shaking the frame.
Adam came awake with a shout. At the end of his bed a female shadow chuckled. Rue Clancy. He flopped back onto the mattress. “Exactly what do you think is so funny?”
“You. Do you always wake up shouting?”
“Only when someone creates an imitation of the San Francisco earthquake with my bed.”
“I needed to wake you up.”
He kept his voice low. “I can think of more pleasant ways to do that.” He wondered if she was blushing and pulled the string on the light bulb hanging by the bed. Adam felt heat flood his face. The inadequate light cast conflicting shadows over Rue’s face while it spotlighted the very obvious tent in the sheet. Appalled, his gaze froze on that distinct elevation. He heard a choking sound, followed by footsteps.
So she thought he was funny, did she. He’d show her. No woman poked fun at a man’s most valuable piece of anatomy and got away with it unscathed. Determined to prove that his manhood was no laughing matter, Adam rose from the bed. He grabbed a towel that he wrapped around his waist. With slow deliberation he walked from his room to confront his nemesis.
Rue sat on the steps just outside his door. Her hands covered her mouth, forcing gasps back into her throat.
Adam approached, bringing his terry covered anatomy within inches of her face and waited for his presence to sink in. Soon the noises subsided to soft hiccups.
“Rue.”
She opened her eyes and turned her head toward him.
Adam followed her gaze.
The towel gaped.
In the instant before he could cover himself, she got an eye level view of his rampant, early morning maleness.
She goggled and tried to back away. Losing her balance, she fell off the steps.
“May I help you up, Ms. Clancy?”
She scrambled to her feet. “No, no thank you, Mr. Talcott.” Her shoulders hunched, and she thrust her hands into her pockets.
Good! Now she’s as embarrassed as I was. So why do I want to apologize? Why does it hurt to see her humbled? After all, she’s the one who laughed at me.
Here are purchase links for both of these books. The Catnapped Lover, Amazon, Devil May Clare, Amazon.
You can read longer excerpts at The Catnapped Lover and Devil May Clare
Sunday, March 27, 2011
New Release - Collective Shivers: Can You Spare a Dollar for Japan?
Upon being bombarded by these news stories, romance and speculative fiction writer L.K. Below could not bear to stand idle. Rather than indulge her feeling of helplessness, she did the only thing she knew how to do: she wrote. Two weeks after the Sendai disaster, the product is a short fantasy story called Collective Shivers.
Hailed by beta readers as an “out-of-world experience,” Collective Shivers contains an earthquake, a mysterious and resilient people, and one man who suddenly doesn’t feel up to scratch. Who knew that a people so outwardly unfeeling could have touched Gunnarr in such an emotional way?
More information about this story can be found at the author’s website, www.lbelow.net/japan. All proceeds from this book will be donated to the Red Cross foundation to help with relief efforts in Sendai and elsewhere as new tragedies unfold.
So the real question is: Can you spare a dollar for Japan?
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
How to Savor Fine Caribbean Rum by Marsha A. Moore
When you think of rum you immediately think of the Caribbean, lying back in a gently swaying hammock and watching the waves crash over the distant coral reef. Whether you are knocking back a shot of overproof in Kingston, drinking a pina colada in Old San Juan, or just relaxing with an Admiral Rodney in Rodney Bay. the Caribbean has been the home of rum for hundreds of years, from the dark days of slavery and plantations, the pirates and buccaneers, to the present days of exotic frozen cocktails enjoyed by tourists.
Two years ago, when I moved to the Tampa area, I was delighted to feel the vibe of the Caribbean seeping into the local atmosphere, and it inspired me to write. The result is my new fantasy erotic romance book, Tears on a Tranquil Lake.
One of my favorite settings in the book takes place on the Haitian island of Tortuga, an unruly pirate hangout during the mid-1600s. My main character, a mermaid named Ciel, makes her first visit to the island and learns the wonders of drinking fine Caribbean rum, among many other pleasures and vices. She gets a lesson from her pirate friends in how best to enjoy some expensive aged blends.
In case you’re curious…after you pour the sample into the glass, lift it up to the light and check for clarity in the rum. Aged rums will have a golden or mahogany hue from their extensive aging in oak barrels. This color indicates what to expect when you taste it. Lighter rums tend to be lighter and drier, and darker rums richer and heavier in flavor. Once the rum is poured into the glass, give it an initial sniff from the far side of the glass. Master blenders use sense of smell the most when creating their rums. Then swirl the rum around in the glass. Now take another whiff of the rum to see if more of the aromas have been released by swirling. Some of the bouquets you may detect: wood; nuts; honey; spice; vanilla; cocoa; orange.
Now for the best part--tasting. Take a small sip and swirl it around your mouth. Let the rum linger on your tongue and then the rest of your mouth. After swallowing the rum, allow the taste to linger and assess the "finish" which will probably be your most important memory of the rum. The length of the "finish", how long the taste remains in your mouth and nose, tells a lot about the complexity of the rum. What did you taste? Oak, vanilla, molasses, caramel, fruit, cinnamon, spices, nutmeg, tobacco, coconut? How would you describe the rum--sweet, smooth, full-bodied, harsh, or well-balanced?
Come join Ciel in Tears on a Tranquil Lake, as she develops a palate for fine Caribbean rum and a few other pirate pleasures.
Blurb:
What a surprise for a young woman, to find herself suddenly transformed into a mermaid.
Ciel’s first thought – track down the merman who changed her and make him reverse his magic. Unable to find him, survival in her new world becomes paramount. She eagerly accepts help from a dashing pirate captain who takes a fancy to her, lavishing her with finery. When her merman does show up, he competes for her affection. One look into his eyes makes her life more complex -- he is her soul mate.
Which man will she choose – pirate captain or merman? Which life – human or mermaid? Caribbean adventures and dangers chase Ciel as she searches for decisions and the key to her happiness.
Warning: This book contains Haitian vodou, sultry wenches, foul-mouthed scalliwag pirates, overindulgence of fine Caribbean rum, and amorous encounters on deserted beaches.
Links to Marsha and her books:
ISBN: 978-1-926931-29-6
Purchase from:
Move Over Steven Spielberg!
If there’s a way to promote a book, an author will find it. And I think that sentence should be written in stone some place. You can quote me! LOL Never more truer words have been written. It’s just dead on. Everything from bookmarks to contests, blogging and giving away free reads has been done. Do you think sponsoring a bowling team would work? Can you see your favorite author’s name and website addy on the back of one of those shirts? How about emblazoned across a huge billboard? The latest trend in promotions seems to be moving in the direction of book trailers. Technology is everything these days, isn’t it? Readers seem to respond quite well to these mini-movies that blurb our books, too. Hey…a picture is worth a thousand words, right? But it’s not just the images. Nope. The text that goes along with them is essential in capturing attention as well, giving us a wonderful collaboration of visuals and the written word.
I’ve been looking at a lot of trailers lately, and there is one element that seems to be the glue that holds the text and images together. Music. If a video isn’t set to the right music, it falls apart. The text and images need to match the feel of that music. It’s all about tone. An edgy suspense story just doesn’t sound right with a backdrop of polka music. LOL So the music must be chosen carefully or the author risks losing his/her audience--YOU the reader.
A great many authors pay someone to make their book trailers. I would be one of them. LOL I am techno-stupid for sure. I know nothing about movie-maker or any of those other gadgets. But there are others who are do-it-yourself kind of guys and gals and are willing to brave technology in order to get the word out about their books. I’ve been pretty impressed by the effort these authors are putting into these videos. Wish I was that talented. I’m not. sighhhhh
Today I have three examples of what I consider trailers that just plain work. The first is very special to me because it’s for one of my books—Latin Rhythm. (Just click on the title to check out the book.)
The cover for Latin Rhythm recently won an Ariana at EPIC for Best Contemporary Erotic Romance. The cover art and video were created by Lex Valentine of Winterheart Designs. Take a look at this wonderful representation of my book!
Next is a video created by Tina of Topaz Promotions . Tina is new to video design and doing an amazing job of it I have to say. This particular video was created for author Regina Carlysle for her latest Ellora’s Cave release, Panther Moon. (Just click on the title to check out the book.) You’re going to love this!
And I’ve saved what I consider to be an incredible video for last. This isn’t exactly a book trailer, but a promotional trailer for a publisher. Total E Bound. Yep, even publishers are getting in on the latest trend--and with good reason. My dear friend, Emmy Ellis, is head of the art department for TEB, and she’s just amazing. I am constantly awed by her book covers and now trailers. She is also the very talented author of dozens of books under the pseudonyms of Sarah Masters and Natalie Dae. If you would like to take a peek at her work, stop by Posh Gosh Designs.
When Emmy posted this video on Facebook for all to WOW over, I was beyond WOWED! This video is absolutely fabulous! I’d been wondering what I was going to talk about for my very first post here at The Romance Studio, and as soon as I watched this I knew I had my topic. The images, the text, the music—everything about it is timed so perfectly. The colors and movement are ethereal, yet vibrant and electrifying and will dazzle your mind! So, without further ado…LOL…here it is!
If these three videos don’t make you want to rush out and buy, I don’t know what will. LOL I love this new way of promoting books, and I think readers thoroughly enjoy it too. Go ahead… Make a video!
Where You Can Find Tess!
Books by Tess available at Amazon for purchase now:
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
GHOST HUNTER - NEW from ELLORA'S CAVE!
I'm so excited to announce I have a new book out with Ellora's Cave! It's a paranormal romance called GHOST HUNTER, and it's got a hunky hero, a kick-ass heroine and a serial killing ghost that's scary as hell! Not to mention a smokin' hot cover!
I love when I come up with an idea for a book out of the blue, which is what happened with GHOST HUNTER. When I heard my local RWA chapter set up a lecture with a team of paranormal investigators, it got me thinking right away about writing a book about a ghost hunter. Because the chapter is far from where we live, though, we didn't actually go to the lecture. I was a little bummed about that, especially since they were giving out EMF detectors. On second thought, maybe it was better we didn't go. Ghosts freak me out, so having something that can detect them probably wouldn't be a good idea.
Enough about me, back to the story behind the story. While I knew the hero was a ghost hunter named Trace, I wasn't quite sure how the heroine fit into the story, or even who she was. So, my hubby and I played around with a few ideas at our local PF Chang's (we come up with a lot of story ideas there!) We both decided that having the heroine Cassidy need the hero's help because her house was haunted or something like that didn't seem original enough, so we made her a budding romance writer who tags along with the hero and his team to do some research. Like any good story, though, it had to have some conflict, which is why Trace and Cassidy completely rub each other the wrong way right from the beginning. Actually, he thinks he's a jerk. But don't worry, Cassidy discovers underneath that rough ghost hunter exterior, Trace is just the man she's been looking for. It doesn't hurt that he's hot!
Okay, so we had our hero and heroine. Now we needed a bad guy. That's where the ghost comes in. He's not your standard, everyday ghost, though. He's a serial killer who attacked Cassidy that comes back from the grrave to continue his string of grisly murders, and she's at the top of his list. To make things even more interesting, not only can he do all the regualar ghostly stuff like walk through walls and materialize out of thin air, he can also take solid form.
I'm not going to tell you any more than that, though. Don't want to give too much away, you know. I will add that my editor at Ellora's Cave told me she got so caught up in the story, she completely forgot she was reading a submission!
Now that you know the story behind the story, I think I'll tease you with an excerpt. Enjoy!
BLURB:
Almost getting murdered by a serial killer gives Cassidy Kincaide a new lease on life and convinces her to go ahead and tackle that ghost-hunter novel she's always wanted to write. So, she hooks up with a gorgeous paranormal investigator named Trace McCord to do some research.
Cassidy and Trace rub each other the wrong way right from the beginning, but they have to put aside their differences when the serial killer who attacked her comes back from the grave to continue his string of grisly murders, with her at the top of his list.
Trace has to keep Cassidy close to keep her safe, and as they try to stay one step ahead of the ghost while figuring out how to stop it, he and Cassidy end up in each other’s arms. While Trace has a whole list of reasons why he shouldn’t get involved with her, he finds himself falling in love with the beautiful blonde anyway. And even though Cassidy started out thinking he was a jerk, she learns that underneath the rough ghost hunter exterior, he’s just the man she’s always been looking for. Now, all they have to do, is live long enough to be together.
EXCERPT:
Trace was only a few miles from the address Robert had given him for Cassidy when his cell phone rang. At first he wasn’t going to answer it, but some sixth sense made him change his mind. Now he was glad he had.
He was about to disconnect the call when he heard a muffled scream on the other end of the line. It was quickly followed by a loud clatter, then nothing.
“Cassidy!”
No answer.
Trace felt his chest tighten. Swearing under his breath, he shoved his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans and floored the pedal on the Hummer, running a red light to get through the intersection. The other drivers honked their horns as they squealed to a stop, but he ignored them. There was no way he was going to let Cassidy die.
Five minutes later, he slid into the parking lot outside her apartment, running over an ornamental fence and a flower bed to come to a screeching halt a few feet from the front door. Jumping out of the Hummer, he ran around to the back and grabbed his duffel bag full of gear. Throwing it over his shoulder, he raced up the steps and charged through the door into the building, scaring the hell out of two women carrying laundry baskets.
“Where the hell are the stairs?” he demanded, not wanting to waste time with the elevator.
The women timidly pointed around the corner.
Trace didn’t thank them as he ran in that direction. He hit the steps hard, taking them hree at a time. Once on the fourth floor, he ran down the hall, checking the room numbers on he doors. When he came to the right one, he didn’t even bother to slow down. Instead, he kicked the door in as hard as he could, reaching into his bag for his shotgun as the frame plintered and the door flew open.
He looked left and right as he entered the apartment, but there was no sign of Cassidy or Del Vecchio. Trace’s blood ran cold at the scene that met his eyes. The living room looked s if a cyclone hit it. The couch and throw pillows were sliced to shreds, stuffing still floating through the air. The coffee table was lying on its side, as were the two end tables, and the lamps that had been on them were smashed to pieces along with practically everything ele in the place. Even the walls had been slashed.
“Cassidy?” Trace called.
“In here.”
Trace followed the sound of her voice until he came to the kitchen. Cassidy was standing in the center of the room inside a wobbly drawn circle of salt, ready to throw a handful of something in his face. She sagged with relief at the sight of him, letting the stuff in her hand trickle out onto the floor. That was when he realized she was holding a big container of oregano.
“Is he gone?” she whispered.
Trace nodded. “Yeah, he’s gone. But I’m getting you the hell out of here anyway.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, but simply slung the shotgun over his shoulder by the strap, then walked into the kitchen and swung Cassidy up in his arms.
She put one of her own around his neck. “Is it safe for me to leave the circle?”
“Yes. I’ll keep you safe. Trust me.”
Apparently she must have believed him because she didn’t resist. She cuddled the container of oregano close to her body and leaned against his chest.
He frowned. “Cassidy, you did great with the salt circle. It saved your life without a doubt. But what are you doing with the oregano?”
She looked up at him with big, blue eyes. “Isn’t it what you used to get rid of ghosts?”
His mouth twitched. “That’s sage and garlic. You can ditch the spaghetti spice.”
“Oh,” was all she said. Resting her head on his shoulder, she let the container of oregano tumble to the floor, then put that arm around his neck, too.
Giving the place one more look to make sure Del Vecchio hadn’t come back, Trace carried her out of the apartment and right passed the alarmed neighbors who had come out into the hallway to see what the ruckus was all about. Trace imagined they got their money’s worth seeing a big guy with a shotgun and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder carrying a beautiful half-naked woman in his arms. He abruptly realized he probably should have taken a few minutes to let Cassidy grab some clothes. But then the lights in the hallway flickered and he decided he could get her clothes later. They were getting the hell out of there.
“Is she being kidnapped?” one elderly woman asked another in a low voice as he and Cassidy passed them.
“If she is,” said the other old woman, “then I want to want to be kidnapped next.”
Any other time, Trace would have laughed, but right now all he wanted to do was get Cassidy someplace safe. Fortunately, he knew exactly where to take her.
Watch the Trailer Here!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F7c6DgZ-fHs
Get your copy of GHOST HUNTER at Ellora's Cave!
http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9148-ghost-hunter.aspx
http://www.jasminejade.com/m-615-paige-tyler.aspx
*hugs*
Paige
I love when I come up with an idea for a book out of the blue, which is what happened with GHOST HUNTER. When I heard my local RWA chapter set up a lecture with a team of paranormal investigators, it got me thinking right away about writing a book about a ghost hunter. Because the chapter is far from where we live, though, we didn't actually go to the lecture. I was a little bummed about that, especially since they were giving out EMF detectors. On second thought, maybe it was better we didn't go. Ghosts freak me out, so having something that can detect them probably wouldn't be a good idea.
Enough about me, back to the story behind the story. While I knew the hero was a ghost hunter named Trace, I wasn't quite sure how the heroine fit into the story, or even who she was. So, my hubby and I played around with a few ideas at our local PF Chang's (we come up with a lot of story ideas there!) We both decided that having the heroine Cassidy need the hero's help because her house was haunted or something like that didn't seem original enough, so we made her a budding romance writer who tags along with the hero and his team to do some research. Like any good story, though, it had to have some conflict, which is why Trace and Cassidy completely rub each other the wrong way right from the beginning. Actually, he thinks he's a jerk. But don't worry, Cassidy discovers underneath that rough ghost hunter exterior, Trace is just the man she's been looking for. It doesn't hurt that he's hot!
Okay, so we had our hero and heroine. Now we needed a bad guy. That's where the ghost comes in. He's not your standard, everyday ghost, though. He's a serial killer who attacked Cassidy that comes back from the grrave to continue his string of grisly murders, and she's at the top of his list. To make things even more interesting, not only can he do all the regualar ghostly stuff like walk through walls and materialize out of thin air, he can also take solid form.
I'm not going to tell you any more than that, though. Don't want to give too much away, you know. I will add that my editor at Ellora's Cave told me she got so caught up in the story, she completely forgot she was reading a submission!
Now that you know the story behind the story, I think I'll tease you with an excerpt. Enjoy!
BLURB:
Almost getting murdered by a serial killer gives Cassidy Kincaide a new lease on life and convinces her to go ahead and tackle that ghost-hunter novel she's always wanted to write. So, she hooks up with a gorgeous paranormal investigator named Trace McCord to do some research.
Cassidy and Trace rub each other the wrong way right from the beginning, but they have to put aside their differences when the serial killer who attacked her comes back from the grave to continue his string of grisly murders, with her at the top of his list.
Trace has to keep Cassidy close to keep her safe, and as they try to stay one step ahead of the ghost while figuring out how to stop it, he and Cassidy end up in each other’s arms. While Trace has a whole list of reasons why he shouldn’t get involved with her, he finds himself falling in love with the beautiful blonde anyway. And even though Cassidy started out thinking he was a jerk, she learns that underneath the rough ghost hunter exterior, he’s just the man she’s always been looking for. Now, all they have to do, is live long enough to be together.
EXCERPT:
Trace was only a few miles from the address Robert had given him for Cassidy when his cell phone rang. At first he wasn’t going to answer it, but some sixth sense made him change his mind. Now he was glad he had.
He was about to disconnect the call when he heard a muffled scream on the other end of the line. It was quickly followed by a loud clatter, then nothing.
“Cassidy!”
No answer.
Trace felt his chest tighten. Swearing under his breath, he shoved his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans and floored the pedal on the Hummer, running a red light to get through the intersection. The other drivers honked their horns as they squealed to a stop, but he ignored them. There was no way he was going to let Cassidy die.
Five minutes later, he slid into the parking lot outside her apartment, running over an ornamental fence and a flower bed to come to a screeching halt a few feet from the front door. Jumping out of the Hummer, he ran around to the back and grabbed his duffel bag full of gear. Throwing it over his shoulder, he raced up the steps and charged through the door into the building, scaring the hell out of two women carrying laundry baskets.
“Where the hell are the stairs?” he demanded, not wanting to waste time with the elevator.
The women timidly pointed around the corner.
Trace didn’t thank them as he ran in that direction. He hit the steps hard, taking them hree at a time. Once on the fourth floor, he ran down the hall, checking the room numbers on he doors. When he came to the right one, he didn’t even bother to slow down. Instead, he kicked the door in as hard as he could, reaching into his bag for his shotgun as the frame plintered and the door flew open.
He looked left and right as he entered the apartment, but there was no sign of Cassidy or Del Vecchio. Trace’s blood ran cold at the scene that met his eyes. The living room looked s if a cyclone hit it. The couch and throw pillows were sliced to shreds, stuffing still floating through the air. The coffee table was lying on its side, as were the two end tables, and the lamps that had been on them were smashed to pieces along with practically everything ele in the place. Even the walls had been slashed.
“Cassidy?” Trace called.
“In here.”
Trace followed the sound of her voice until he came to the kitchen. Cassidy was standing in the center of the room inside a wobbly drawn circle of salt, ready to throw a handful of something in his face. She sagged with relief at the sight of him, letting the stuff in her hand trickle out onto the floor. That was when he realized she was holding a big container of oregano.
“Is he gone?” she whispered.
Trace nodded. “Yeah, he’s gone. But I’m getting you the hell out of here anyway.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, but simply slung the shotgun over his shoulder by the strap, then walked into the kitchen and swung Cassidy up in his arms.
She put one of her own around his neck. “Is it safe for me to leave the circle?”
“Yes. I’ll keep you safe. Trust me.”
Apparently she must have believed him because she didn’t resist. She cuddled the container of oregano close to her body and leaned against his chest.
He frowned. “Cassidy, you did great with the salt circle. It saved your life without a doubt. But what are you doing with the oregano?”
She looked up at him with big, blue eyes. “Isn’t it what you used to get rid of ghosts?”
His mouth twitched. “That’s sage and garlic. You can ditch the spaghetti spice.”
“Oh,” was all she said. Resting her head on his shoulder, she let the container of oregano tumble to the floor, then put that arm around his neck, too.
Giving the place one more look to make sure Del Vecchio hadn’t come back, Trace carried her out of the apartment and right passed the alarmed neighbors who had come out into the hallway to see what the ruckus was all about. Trace imagined they got their money’s worth seeing a big guy with a shotgun and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder carrying a beautiful half-naked woman in his arms. He abruptly realized he probably should have taken a few minutes to let Cassidy grab some clothes. But then the lights in the hallway flickered and he decided he could get her clothes later. They were getting the hell out of there.
“Is she being kidnapped?” one elderly woman asked another in a low voice as he and Cassidy passed them.
“If she is,” said the other old woman, “then I want to want to be kidnapped next.”
Any other time, Trace would have laughed, but right now all he wanted to do was get Cassidy someplace safe. Fortunately, he knew exactly where to take her.
Watch the Trailer Here!
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Paige
"Stories so hot, they'll make your cheeks blush!"
Monday, March 21, 2011
What Turns You On?
Erotic and erotic roma
nce writers strive for two things to present to their readers in their stories; an interesting, well written story and love/sex scenes that titillate their readers.
For any author, the first is a given. The second, the love/sex scenes can be problematic—at least for me.
What makes a good love/sex scene for you? What makes you vicariously imagine you are the hero or heroine? In other words, what turns you on?
Many elements go into a sex scene. Location, attitude, mood, im
agination, partners and more.
Take location. Are the participants alone in their bedroom, in the shower, or better yet, on the kitchen counter or in the back yard on a chaise or in the pool? Maybe they are risking discovery, copulating in a dark night-club or an airplane restroom. What about the heroine fellating the hero in a park, in broad daylight, with spectators and subsequently taken from behind? Does the idea of public sex turn you on like it does me? How about sex with strangers?
What abo
ut attitude? The partners can run the gamut from demanding to submissive, from persistent to resistant, from commanding to acquiescent, from excited to calm, from romantic to resolved. What's your cup of tea?
A compliment to attitude is mood. Is their lovemaking planned or spontaneous? Is the mood romantic, sexy or submissive? How about props or sex toys to help set the mood? Maybe there are others watching or having sex while they do. That would certainly be a turn on for them.
Imagination is very important. The imagination the author uses to devise and describe the sex scene and how the characters construct the sex scene.
Then of course there is the partners themselves. In this day and age, a sex scene no longer is limited to two opposite gender partners. A sex scene can contain from one to whatever the author thinks he can handle of every race and gender. My limit so far was four—mfmm. Then there're orgies. These are usually handled as a sex scene within a sex scene. If done right these multiple partner scenarios can be very titillating.
I should note t
here is a recent trend in erotic romance of 'the more heroes the better.' Thus, heroines are now finding themselves (lovingly?) getting bopped by four, five, six or more lovers. For me, this stretches the limits of believability past the breaking point. I fail to see how this could be construed as romantic and if it's not romantic, it's a gang bang.
Well ladies and if there happens to a gentleman around, you to, that's it for this time.
Have I pushed your personal button? Do any or many of these elements and scenarios turn you on? They do me and I have written such scenes. If they turn you on, don't be shy, tell me about it. That's why they gave you a comment section.
When it comes to love/sex scenes, I don't know that I've ever written a book with as many passionate, love scenes as my, recently re-released in third person, novel, Getting Naked. Check it out.
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Blurb
Rachel Cooke loves sex, but doesn't give it away to just anyone. When she meets Scott at the club where she sings, sparks fly. They flirt, they drink, they laugh, and go dancing. After several dances, Scott suggests they go someplace quiet and talk, but having just ended a disastrous relationship with her boyfriend/agent, Rachel isn’t ready to trust herself, let alone some new guy.
When an innocent comment from Scott leads to a crazy test of his character, Rachel finds herself spending a hands-off night with him in her hotel room—naked.
Barely surviving the night, the next morning all bets are off. Their passion knows no bounds, and the two of them become inseparable. That is, until Rachel's ex-boyfriend shows up, attempting to get her back by Dangling a series of lucrative engagements in front of her. Now, Rachel must decide if what she's found with Scott is love or lust, and if it's love, is he worthy of her trust?
{WARNING} This book contains a recounting of a rape and an attempted rape scene.
Please Note. This book was previously released in first person by eXtasy Books
Excerpt
Situated on the Strip south of Circus Circus Hotel, Pussy Cats was the in club of the moment. Its ultra modern stainless steel motif catered to the beautiful people of Vegas and adventurous, well-heeled tourists. The drinks were expensive, the music loud, the mood seductively dark and the women…As always, the women were hot! But none that night hotter than Rachel Cooke.
Gyrating with the best of them to the sexy rhythm driven beat, Rachel in her scanty attire with her lissome, sexy frame was a show within a show on Pussy Cat’s dance floor. Drinking in her marvelous undulating form, visions of her transferring those sexy dance moves with my cock buried in her, teased my brain. Goddamn! Can she move. I’ll bet she’s a fucking nympho in the sack.
The only thing preventing my libido from tenting my pants was the energy I was expending keeping up with Rachel's wild moves. Out of breath and near passing out from exertion, the ending of the third heart pumping, high tempo dance number was going to be the death of me. And then, salvation. Taking pity on the sweaty dancers, the band played a slow song.
A frenzy of excitement settled in the pit of my stomach as I trapped the hot little minx in my arms. Damn, she felt good, as she wrapped her arms around me and nuzzled in close. A few inches below me in height, everything seemed to line up to erotic advantage.
Cradled against my thighs, her breasts against my chest, the music created a sensual rhythm that no longer moved our feet but swayed our bodies tighter together. She nestled in even closer and my erection surged between us. I slid my hands down and grasped her shapely ass, feeling the seams of her skimpy panties through the flimsy fabric of her mini-skirt. She exuded sex—raw sex. I was hard as a hammer and with the subtlest of movements, pressed it into her abdomen to feel her response. She pressed back. Oh, yeah!
Feminine hands slid from my back and moved around to my chest. For a few seconds they rested on my upper chest and she snuggled her pretty face into the crook of my neck, but as I continued to press my hard groin into her, and squeeze her buttocks, her right hand moved up behind my neck. Long graceful fingers pulled my face toward her upturned lips and as our mouths clashed, I nibbled on her warm, pliant lips. A charge of voltage ran clear to my toes as her tongue parted my lips and brushed across my teeth. She was the aggressor and I the all too willing recipient. A groan escaped me as her greedy tongue darted in and she responded to my grinding hardness by matching my thrusts and pushing her hot pussy into my rigid cock. My body was shaking, boiling up and on the verge of losing control. Carol never affected me this way. Damn, I want what she’s offering! This pretty piece of flesh must be mine.
Here's a couple more recent books you may enjoy
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Saturday, March 19, 2011
Series: Bad Medicine
Title: Covert Wishes
ISBN : 978-1-60521-568-6
Genres: Paranormal, Futuristic
Themes: Interracial, Magic and Mayhem
Release Date: March 18, 2011
Author: Anne Kane
http://www.annekane.com/
Publisher URL Changeling Press - Erotic Fiction
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BLURB:
Jenna has a secret -- her alien blood makes her completely lose control during sex. It takes a strong man to be able to stand up to her demands, and so far she hasn't found one strong enough to want to come back for more. On the eve of the biggest Sci-Fi convention in the known universe, she makes a wish. Now it's up to Doug, the sexy troubleshooter from the Wishes Gone Wrong department of Wishlabz Inc. to make sure it comes out right. Because a wish gone wrong can be a very dangerous thing...
.
EXCERPT:
Jenna eyed up the green-skinned alien, making sure to keep a healthy distance between them. Maybe she should have been a little more specific when she’d wished for a lover with stamina. Like, maybe she should have specified that he be a nice male, a nice human male. She’d never met a demon, but this character seemed to fit the description. He had the horns, the fiery red eyes, and that total lack of consideration for anything anyone else said.
“Go away. I have no intention of going back to your place, wherever that might be.” She had a sinking feeling his place might be in a whole other dimension. Taking another step backward, she felt the cold cement of the wall behind her. “This is one huge mistake.”
The monster roared something unintelligible and stomped his big green foot. Glowering at her with those demonic eyes, he moved sideways, cutting off her escape route. If the drool dripping from the side of his mouth was any indication, he might be planning to make a snack out of her.
She snuck a look past him, hoping someone would notice the big green alien and come to her rescue. Unfortunately, at the biggest Sci-Fi convention on the known worlds an alien really didn’t stick out the way he would on Saville Row or at the opening of a new play on Broadway. She sighed, flicking the safety on her tazer to the off position as she pulled it from the top of her knee-high boots. Sometimes a girl just had to get mean.
“What will it take to convince you that I’m not going anywhere with you?” She brandished the tazer in front of her, hoping it held a big enough charge. She didn’t recall “oversized alien demon” being one of the settings. “Now run along and play nice with the other Trekkies.”
“Oh, I love a gal with her own tazer.”
Jenna started at the sound of a deep voice to her left. Keeping a wary eye on her would-be suitor, she turned her head enough to see the owner of the voice. Nice!
She’d always had this fantasy about a high-tech cop, and the man grinning at her from beneath his vintage twentieth century helmet certainly looked like he could live up to it. The skintight blue uniform did nothing to hide his broad shoulders and a massive chest that narrowed to lean hips and a very nicely shaped butt. He took off the helmet and ran his fingers through his hair. The red streaks in his dark hair gave him that bad boy look that sent her pulse racing. She licked her lips in appreciation. Now why couldn’t her wish have conjured up someone like him?
If he managed to keep up with her, she might just let him replace Green Fuzzy here as her evening entertainment. That touch of alien blood her mother had gifted her with meant most human males had a hard time walking away once she was satisfied -- not because they found her irresistible, but because they were just plumb wore out.
Actually, she recalled a few of them running away screaming. Seems human men were really spooked by a girl who kept asking for more sex, especially after the first couple of hours. Still, this one looked like he might be fun while he lasted. She gave him her best come-hither grin and sidestepped as the monster made a grab for her arm.
He replaced his helmet. “I don’t think that’s a costume. Greenie here looks like one of the Tra’toni from the Jupiter colony.”
Definitely a southern drawl. A trickle of heat warmed her belly. “I really don’t care.” Jenna snorted. “When I wished for a male to amuse me, I kind of had a human male in mind.”
“Should be more careful what you wish for, then.” The man slid out of the path of the monster, landing a nasty chop in the small of its furry back as it stumbled past him.
Jenna rolled her eyes. “Hindsight and platitudes. Just what I needed.”
“On the contrary.” He whirled to block the monster’s right hook, landing a kick on its leading knee. “I think you need some personal attention of the type I happen to be very good at.” He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, a darkly sexy grin creasing his handsome face.
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