Other Places to find Berengaria

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Thursday, December 30, 2010

Changing Cherry OUT NOW!



Blurb Changing Cherry
Cherry gives up her life in America to live with Harry and Lee in China. Will she regret her decision or find happiness as well as great orgasms?
Cherry McNair has been invited to come and live in Beijing with Song Hao (Harry) and Li Chang (Lee), two of the one hundred million young men for whom there are no brides available in China.
The men are kind and caring, and at first Cherry is happy, learning to cook for them and settling into her new life. And the sex is fantastic, innovative, fulfilling.
But one day she realizes she has no job, no hobbies, no friends. She knows only a few words of Mandarin and the traffic frightens her. Should she return home or stay?


Changing Cherry Buy Link
http://www.aspenmountainpress.com/new-releases/changing-cherry/prod_373.html

Friday, December 24, 2010

Holiday romances





Perfectly Presented” Blurb:
Blake and Xavier met a year ago at a business conference and had a passionate one-night stand. They have remained fuck buddies but neither has been willing to admit that they want a much wider, deeper, ongoing relationship.
Until Blake sees Xavier agonizing over the fact that several gift tags for poor children remained unclaimed on the holiday tree. Blake encourages Xavier to talk about his past. They spend several days together in the lead up to the holidays and come to acknowledge their relationship is so much more than just hot sex. But can Blake get Xavier to tell him about his past and his problem? Can they move from being just fuckbuddies to a real relationship?

Buy Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2974

“Noticing Nigel” Blurb:
Matthew is singing in a choir for a special Christmas presentation of the oratorio, “Messiah” by Handel. He’s a tenor soloist. But his eyes are on one of the basses, Nigel, a deliciously muscular and well-built man with sparkling eyes and golden-brown hair.
Matthew takes his courage in both hands at the full-dress rehearsal, and invites Nigel out to lunch, then to dinner.
But can this be more than a one-night stand?

Buy Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2983


wishing you happy holidays,

Berengaria

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Willa Edwards: Christmas Eve




My family has many traditions around this time of year, but one of my favorites is actually a Christmas Eve Tradition instead of a Christmas Day tradition. Every Christmas Eve my mother makes chili. It’s not your typical holiday fair, but we love it. I believe the idea originated due to the dishes’ limited prep time and easy cooking but now I can’t imagine Christmas Eve without it. I look forward to it for weeks before hand.
My mother starts it early in the day, and leaves it to simmer for the whole afternoon until we’re ready to eat. By dinner time the entire place smells like chili powder, garlic and sweet tomatoes.
We curl up around the TV, slurping down the stew, warm and cozy before the fire and watch Christmas movies to the fully lit tree. It’s warm, comforting and relaxing. All the things I love about the holidays.
And best of all its something I share with my family that doesn’t have to be wrapped, purchased or shipped. After weeks of shopping, carting and wrapping into the wee hours of the night, it always feels like exactly what we need to get back into the Christmas spirit.

Naughty List, by Willa Edwards

Buy Link: http://www.cobblestone-press.com/catalog/books/naughtylist.htm
BLURB
Eric has been in love with Callie since the day they met, one month after someone else put a ring on her finger. Since her engagement ended Eric has been biding his time, waiting for her to be ready. Until he finds a naughty list of Christmas wishes hidden between her couch cushions with his name on the top.
He's willing to do anything to make Callie happy, including take on the role of dominate Santa Claus and spank her to blow-your-stockings-off orgasm. But is she ready for everything he wants? Does she want his love?

EXCERPT
A sliver of light green between the arm and cushion of Callie’s mocha-colored couch drew his eye. The bright color protruded from rich leather, one of the few pieces of furniture in the room besides an inherited coffee table and elaborately decorated Christmas tree. Taking two steps to the couch, he gripped the spearmint object between his thumb and forefinger, pulling the folded holiday paper from the crevice. Why would Callie shove a piece of paper between the couch cushions? Why would she need to hide something in her own home?
Eric unfolded the paper, expanding the corners into a large, flat sheet. Twirling red ribbons and shiny gold ornaments decorated the page and snowflakes dotted each line. The written words stopped his breath. Callie’s tight, neat script whispered his greatest fantasy.
His throat closed, trapping the oxygen in his chest. His eyes blurred as he read the words over and over. His vision must be playing a trick on him. Callie would never be interested in this kind of sex, and she would certainly never be interested in him.
He’d been in love with Callie since the day he’d met her, which happened to be one month after Josh had slipped a three-carat diamond ring on her finger. He could still remember the bite of that hard rock into his palm as he shook her hand, thanking her for volunteering at the special needs event for thirty kids with physical handicaps, several his cases, that her fiancé’s team was hosting. The small pinch reminded him their meeting was not a dream. This funny, interesting, beautiful woman was real.
He may have denied his feelings at first, but he’d long since accepted he’d never have her, and forced himself to become just her friend. In all that time he’d never imagined she could return his affection.
He wasn’t her type. Callie went for athletic pretty guys. Hell, Josh had been a professional baseball player. How was a social worker supposed to compete with a guy like that? Awkward, gawky, and broke to boot—what a catch Eric was. She deserved better.
His stare remained glued to her naughty Christmas list. His gaze drifted to the top of the page where she’d written his name. He reread each increasingly kinky line. How long had she been thinking about him like this? Since she’d broken off her engagement? Before? If he’d only known, he would have already fulfilled all these wishes and then some.
A wicked smile curled his lips. His body burned stronger than the fire in the chimney Kris Kringle would soon be coming down. His cock pressed against his jeans, hard, hot, wanting. The confinement was a sweet pain he’d become used to after years of being so close to the woman of his dreams but unable to touch her.
There was no time like the present.

Learn more about me at www.willaedwards.com
or on my facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000708705071

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Paranormal Suspense Author – Pauline Holyoak





Paranormal Suspense Author – Pauline Holyoak - www.paulineholyoak.com
Memories of Christmas Past

The morning air is still and cold. Shimmering frost like tiny white diamonds, coat the hedgerows, on each side of the rugged country lane. It paves my way from our small bungalow to my Nana’s house on the other side of the village. A group of robins peck hopeful at the dried berries, which hang from the brittle branches of a wild roes bush. The arid smell of coal fire smoke lingers in the air. I pretend I’m holding a cigarette to my lips as I exhale puffs of imaginary smoke from my mouth. Then I cover my ears with my hands as I feel Jack Frost nipping. I had taken off the head scarf that my mum had so lovingly tied and insisted I wear, and promptly stuffed it in my pocket as soon as I was out of sight. I couldn’t risk any of my friends seeing me in an old fashioned, handmade headscarf. My runny nose felt like an ice cube stuck to my face. The bare skin between my long socks and winter coat was red and chapped. Over my arm I carried a large tartan shopping bag. I stepped out of the lane and turned down the street lined with rows of dull gray council houses, to where my Nana lived. I could hear the tinkling of bottles from the milk cart across the street, some stray dogs barking and a couple of lads yelling as they mounted their bikes. It looked like an ordinary morning on the streets of Aylesham village, but this day was different. It was the 24th of December 1962. There were no colored lights around the windows or external decorations. No cars on the streets or obvious signs of the season. But you could feel it in the air, the magical ‘essence’ of Christmas!
I had taken this route to my Nana’s house numerous times but today my shopping bag was full of tasty ingredients for mince pies, biscuits and tomorrows festive feast! And my mind was burbling over in anticipation of what was to come. Christmas had a simpler, authentic quality to it back then, uncluttered by commercialism and material expectations.
I remember walking into people’s homes and being greeted by the smell of pine, from their small sparsely decorated trees and there was always a modest collection of treasured ornaments on display. We’d go carol singing around the village on bitter cold nights for a few mere pennies. Weeks and weeks of preparation for that all important school concert, who would get the leading rolls of Mary and Joseph? One of the highlights of Christmas day was going to the working men’s club, to collect our presents. Off we’d go, with our Dad, tickets in hand, a head full of anticipation and a belly full of sticky treats. Father Christmas would be there handing out unwrapped gifts, it never occurred to us that he should have been back in the North Pole by then. Those gifts were made possible by a fund the miners paid into all year. Unknown to me then, these were the only real toys some of the children in the village got. My sister and I were lucky, our stocking were always stuffed and there were lots of presents under our tree. In a few hours the men would be making their way to the local pub for a quick pint or two, then off to church for evening mass. Some of them puffing and coughing along the way, their lungs filled with silicosis, from the coal dust in the mine. The turkeys that had been hanging in the butchers’ window were gone, waiting to be cleaned and dressed for tomorrow’s festive dinner.
I arrive at my Nana’s house. She scolds me for not wearing a headscarf, gives me a quick hug, wipes my nose with her cotton hankie, then pours me a cup of tea. Bing Crosby’s white Christmas is playing on the wireless. The coal fire is blazing in the hearth. Colored paper chains hang from the ceiling in the parlor. The smell of pine, cinnamon, cigars and plum pudding titillate my senses, as Nana and I set to our traditional task of Christmas Eve baking. Ohhh… the beautiful memories and simplicity of Christmases past.


Merryweathger Lodge – Ancient Revenge.. The first of a trilogy.. ”A supernatural thriller that keeps you on the edge.”

Bio
I grew in Southeast England, in a coal mining village my husband calls, “The place that time forgot.” It is nested between the notorious city of Canterbury and the medieval town of Dover. I came to Canada as a nanny, when I was 21. This vast and majestic country has served me well, but England will always be home. I live in Alberta (western Canada) with my sports crazy husband, adorable Sheltie dog and cantankerous ginger cat. We have two grown children. They are the gems in my treasure chest. I love this part of the world, except for the winters. It can be a chilly minus -30 for days on end. Burr…..

This is where I got the inspiration for my book…
Every summer, when I was a child, we would visit my aunt and uncle at their quaint little cottage on Salisbury Plain. It was called Scotland Lodge and was situated not far from the historical Stonehenge. My uncle worked as a farm hand for the local squire. My aunt tended the manor house. It was there as I roamed free, deep within the English countryside, that I experienced joy, enchantment and some very strange and frightening occurrences. It was like a fairytale kingdom with a sinister twist. The memories of my summers at Scotland Lodge have stayed with me as a sort of nagging unsolved mystery all my life. A few years ago I revisited my childhood wonderland (the old place still emanates a strange and eerie essence) and was lead by some mysterious force into concocting this story and writing this book. It is from my mystifying experiences at Scotland Lodge that this book has emerged.


Blurb
When Emily Fletcher meets the gorgeous Jonathan McArthur she is infatuated and consumed with lust. Will he go with her to the dreaded wood-lot, to remove the bloody ancient curse, before it’s too late? In the first half of my story Emily is fourteen years old. In the second half she is forced to return to the cottage, at the age of twenty. My novel contains elements of horror, humor, fantasy, romance and sex. I have created a world into which my readers can escape and an atmosphere that will evoke their imagination, stir their emotions and engage their senses. This book was inspired by my own experiences in a remote little cottage near Stonehenge….Available at…www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Excerpt
”Let’s go somewhere privet.” She said, grabbing my arm. She guided me to the passage and plunked me down on the bottom step of the attic stairs. My back straightened. Panic rose within me as an icy shiver ran down my spine. It was as if I had been lead to an old cemetery, sat on a grave and left among the tomb stones.
“That was her room you know.” She said as she pointed up the stairs.
“Who’s?”
“Mary Eliss.”
I turned my head ever so slowly and drew eyes up to the portal at the top of the stairs. I shivered and quickly looked way. “I know it was.”
In a low voice she whispered. “Do you suppose she’s still up there?” Then she grinned mischievously.
I looked into her strange glassy eyes. “She was, the last time I was here and I have a feeling she hasn’t left.”

Merryweather Lodge – A quaint little cottage, steeped in history, shrouded in secrets, its aura a paradoxical essence of heaven and hell. Go into this book if you dare and experience my protagonist’s strange and eerie journey there.
Available at www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Fiona McGier's Holiday Memories



Fiona said:

My favorite part of the holiday season is giving cookies away to people who don't expect to get anything from me. I like to surprise people who are just doing their job, but who go above and beyond just providing customer service. These are the kind of folks who may not like their job (and having worked retail for years, I know it is a difficult job to like, what with crabby customers and the stress of being on your feet for many hours a day); but they don't let that stop them from being friendly and appearing genuinely happy to see their "regulars" who are weekly customers.
I started doing this a few years ago, when my kids had all graduated from grade school to middle school. I wasn't making up cookie dishes for their teachers anymore, but I still made large batches out of habit. Then I thought I might surprise the guys at the local meat market, since they never complain when I need a special cut of meat, but instead they tease me about being a demanding customer and they pretend to pass me off to each other. They chat with me about camping, and they used to buy Girl Scout cookies from me when I was my daughter's troop leader.
I then began to bring little cookie presents to others as well...the guy who always smiles and chats briefly when I buy my soup at Panera...my hair-dresser...the people who advise me about my accounts at the bank...the guy at the Chevy dealer who always checks in my family's various cars when they need work, and who has been known to give excellent advice, including to check things out for no-charge just because I've been a regular for over 20 years.
There are others, different ones every year. But you get the idea. What better way is there to thank someone for being thoughtful year-round, than to surprise them with a sweet little something as a way of showing your appreciation for being treated as a friend, not just a customer, all year long? And you will rediscover for yourself the reality of the truism: Tis better to give than to receive.
Happy holidays. No matter how you celebrate, may it be sweetened with the love of family and close friends, and made memorable with crunchy, sweet, home-made carbs.

Love Therapy, by Fiona McGier

Buy Link: http://www.wingsepress.com/Bookstore/Love%20Therapy.htm

Blurb:
Miguel Reyes is the 4th child in his family, after the oldest, his sister Rosa (her story is in Love By Design), and his two older brothers, Enrique and Pablo. The next in birth order after him is his sister Catalina, whose story is told in Analysis of Love...in which Miguel watched helplessly as his favorite sister, the family's "wild child", learned that love can be both painful, as well as wonderful. And he wondered if he would ever get a chance to experience his own happily-ever-after.
The family lore is that once a Reyes man meets the one meant to be his wife, he will know it. Years ago, Miguel thought he had found her, much earlier than he expected to. But she left town, taking a piece of his heart with her. Recently she has come back to town, carrying a few secrets as her baggage...now what?

Excerpt:

After he got another drink, a double this time, Miguel looked around the room for Alicia. At first he didn’t see her anywhere; then a crowd of men laughed, and a few of them moved around, and he caught a glimpse of her, standing in the middle of the group, laughing. She had taken off her jacket, so that now she was wearing only an olive green spaghetti-strapped dress, made of some sort of silky fabric that shimmered when she moved.
It was obvious from the simple lines of the dress that she also took very good care of herself, since she was only slightly curvier than she had been twenty years ago. And the simple gold necklace that she wore around her neck drew attention to her neck and shoulders, which had always been some of her most attractive features. Of course, her cleavage was also eye-catching, especially since the style of the dress did not allow for her to be wearing a bra, and her nipples poked ever so slightly into the fabric.
Miguel felt his mouth go dry…he licked his lips and took another gulp from his drink.
“No!” He sternly told himself, “I will not make this easy for her, not this time…not ever again!”

Today's guest is Em Petrova




The Music of Christmas
By Em Petrova

Baking cookies that turn into pavers for the driveway. Family gatherings where awful games of Pictionary are played. Battling the lines at Walmart just to purchase a damn fruit basket for someone who doesn’t care to receive it.

For most of us, the events leading up to Christmas really mean spirit, rather than the actual day when Santa bounces down the chimney and drops off a load of gifts. And while these events I named might be some of the frustrating ones that accompany the holidays, there are several which truly get me in the Christmas spirit.

I come from a family of musicians and vocalists. Almost every single person in my enormous Irish Catholic family plays something or sings in a choir. Some perform professionally. So for us, Christmas isn’t complete without a concert. We kick off December with a church festival where my children participate in several choir performances. I love to sit in the audience and watch their faces lit up by the words they’re singing, whether it’s a rousing rendition of Rudolph or a twisted version of The Twelve Days of Christmas. These songs are lovingly practiced for weeks before the concerts, and not a day goes by that they don’t break into song in the car, their little voices blending like angels singing.

Also, Christmas means music recitals. Violins, pianos, guitars. The nervous energy of the family member eager to perform. My passion for music by far outweighs the moments of insanity brought down by the holidays, so that I actually long for the month of December. Sitting down at the piano and pounding out a remixed version of Carol of the Bells or a funky Little Drummer Boy feeds the fires of my own personal need for music. And when I slip into the cathedral for Midnight Mass, the voices of the choir washing over me, along with the scent of candles and the peaceful hour, I truly refresh my soul. Seeing my 90 year old grandmother stand with the choir, her frail shoulders swaying a bit to the music, is perhaps the best Christmas present I could ever get.

For each of us, Christmas means something different. As long as the spirit connects with ours in some way, and spurs us on for another year, then we’ve found the magical significance of the holiday. What gets you through the bustling season? I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences.


Blurb for RUNES:
When immortals Will and Evangeline are thrown together by a phenomenon known as The Calling, they share their blood and bodies, entwining their minds and souls. But Evangeline has been yanked from the arms of her mortal love, Sean, and the echo of his touch never leaves her. Will and Sean make a pact to share the woman they love and find new desires arising in the arms of each other.

Adult Excerpt: RUNES--a paranormal ménage a trois available from Red Sage Publishing.

~Two men learn to satisfy their lusts for one woman, and eventually each other~

When Will Cochran straightened away from the woman on the bathroom floor, they were both bleeding. She was not fully conscious, but he had to escape before she recognized him. He grabbed a hand towel from the sink, clutched it to his bleeding forearm and swung toward the door.
She would be all right. It might take a few hours for the drugs to wear off, but eventually she would awaken to a new existence. Before he disappeared through the doorway and from her life, he allowed himself a final glance.
Sprawled on the white floor tile, she looked waifish and vulnerable. She wore dark clothing—a black off-the-shoulder top and dark violet miniskirt that matched the purple streak at the front of her pixie-short black hair. The blood had ceased to flow from the wound on her neck, and as he watched, the blue-black lines of runes and dainty stars climbed the bare flesh of her shoulder, up her throat, to curl around her ear and end in a spattering of stars across her temple—the immortal tattoo.

buy link: http://www.eredsage.com/store/Runes_Em_Petrova.html
http://www.empetrova.com
http://twitter.com/empetrova
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watch the Runes book trailer here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JxjwNTSYBSk

Monday, December 20, 2010

Countdown to Christmas: Shelley Munro



Shelley Munro said:
I live in New Zealand, and our Christmas falls during summer. I always enjoy the warmer weather and longer evenings when we can have barbecues and eat al fresco. My favorite barbecue meal includes seafood, salads and fresh strawberries for dessert. The pohutukawa trees, a native to New Zealand, come into bloom just before Christmas and are a blaze of scarlet flowers. For me, that’s the real signal that Christmas is almost here.

Blurb: Resisting Tamaki

Resistance is futile.
Cimmaron Zhaan refuses to follow the traditional path of a Dlog woman. Instead she dreams of traveling through space and flying spaceships for the Coalition. Years of hard work bring her goal within grasp, until her superior seeks sexual favors and leaves her stranded on the isolated planet of Marchant.
Enter sexy club manager Tamaki Grierson. Cimmaron’s not looking for a mate, but there’s no denying that sparks fly between them. Desperate to leave Marchant, all she wants is to keep her head down and work—no romance for her.
But there’s something strange about the club and curiosity leads Cimmaron into trouble. Before she knows it, she’s naked with Tamaki and his best friend. Kisses. Heated embraces and torrid sex. Their loving is breathtaking. Her resistance is at low ebb, her heart and mind battling her overwhelming attraction for Tamaki. If she isn’t careful, her Dlog hormones will tie her to him for life and her struggle to fly spaceships will be for naught.

EXCERPT: Resisting Tamaki

The rest of the females and the couple of males in the group took a collective breath and straightened. Cimmaron slouched lower against the wall, hoping she wouldn’t stick out like pustules on an underling’s face.
All for naught.
The man was tall. He prowled into the bar like a sleek tigoth beast from the planet Dalcon. His piercing blue eyes scanned the faces in the room, taking his time, before they came to rest on her. And lingered. A frisson of awareness shot through her body and gathered on her lips. They tingled insistently until she broke down and moistened them with her tongue. The expression in the male’s eyes intensified, making them darker, more compelling. Finally, his gaze moved on, leaving Cimmaron weak and panting. What the phrull had that been about? In confusion, she stared, trying to analyze the sheer need coursing through her body, tugging at places that hadn’t seen light for a long time, let alone reacted to a male in this way before.
He was tall, maybe a fraction taller than her. That was unusual in itself. Cimmaron towered above all of her shipmates and only felt at home on her planet of Risches. His hair was the color of deep space—black. But it didn’t hold the nothingness of the uncharted territories. It glowed under the lights, the black blue sheen making her want to touch to discover if it felt as soft as it appeared.
He turned to speak to the male at his side. Cimmaron hadn’t noticed him at first, but she saw he was much the same height. His look was more familiar, that of a local Marchant, which was why he hadn’t stood out as much. The deep rumble of the first male’s voice tugged at her. Cimmaron shook, wondering what the phrull was wrong with her. She was in the worst situation, stranded with no hope of rescue, yet suddenly all she could think about was the male. The need to touch was a siren song in her blood.
Her fingers prickled, her lips still tingled and the rest of her body was…aware.
The male spoke. “I’ll see you in number order. Please form a line. Rico will show you into my office when your number is called.”
Cimmaron scowled down at her number. Last in, she had the final interview. Knowing her luck, the jobs would be gone by the time they called her number.

http://www.shelleymunro.com
http://www.shelleymunro.com/blog
http://www.facebook.com/shelleymunro
http://www.twitter.com/shelleymunro
http://www.jasminejade.com/pm-8672-127-resisting-tamaki.aspx

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Marianne Stephens: Countdown to Christmas



Marianne Stephens said:
My favorite thing about Christmas is having family together and making some traditional foods. We usually have a fish meal on Christmas Eve, lasagna on Christmas Day. We have special Italian foods that have been part of holiday celebrations for generations. “Sausage Pie” - consists of eggs, pepperoni, Genoa Salami, Capacola, and pie crusts. Talk about cholesterol levels jumping! Another favorite treat is called “Zeppole” – fried dough plain or stuffed with anchovies. Both kinds can be sprinkled with confectioner’s sugar. And then, there are the usual assorted cookies, cakes, bars, we all love!

Guilty Survivor – Memoirs of Tamerla Kendall
Link: http://www.secretcravingspublishing.com/MarianneStephens.html

BLURB:

Tamerla Kendall is the woman you see rooting for her son at sporting practice. You might meet her in a grocery story. Perhaps you’ll see her planting a garden behind her home. Or, talk to her at school or work. She’s a student, worker, wife and mother.
Surviving a dark past is hidden by her façade of an everyday, average life. Reading her memoirs will reveal her true struggle to survive in a war zone, and is a testament to her courage.
Bosnian Croat, Tamerla Kendall, lived through the carnage and chaos in Sarajevo during the Bosnian War (1992-1995). Hers is a story of courage, fear, ingenuity, and survival. Difficult choices she made then still disturb her peace of mind and life today.
She made a few trips out of Sarajevo, only to return to keep the family restaurant business operating. One carefully planned, secretive trip was made to remove her daughter from the dangers of fighting, but this created a heartbreaking rift in their relationship. For her second trip, Tamerla masqueraded as a United Nations Protection Forces soldier and rode in a tank. A uniform and travel assistance came from a Ukrainian general.
Her hopes for a return to normalcy at war’s end diminished as corruption and religious zealots took control. She married an American, and this marked her as an outcast by some she’d trusted. When her life was threatened at gunpoint, she faced a critical decision concerning her family’s safety in her beloved country.

Guilty Survivor – Memoirs of Tamerla Kendall
Link: http://www.secretcravingspublishing.com/MarianneStephens.html

Unofficial Excerpt:
My second trip to Kiseljak was more difficult and done with me masquerading as a soldier. I’d called Commander Ivicarajic of the Croatian army to ask for help in crossing the border in November of 1992. I made a deal to transport some food supplies for him. I would be allowed to cross over into Croatia this way.
I then spoke to United Nations’ officer, Vladimir Sidorenko, (from the Ukraine) and asked him for help in getting across the border lines. He came to Restaurant Meli often and was known to help the people in Sarajevo.
He told me to go to the UN barrack area at night, sleep there, get up at 4:00am and
dress like a UN soldier in a Ukrainian, UNPROFOR uniform (United Nations Protection Forces) he provided. Part of the deal was that I’d bring supplies back with me for his troops. Desperate to visit my family and encouraged by his plan, I agreed.
I arrived at the UN barrack late that night. A blue and green military uniform and boots were provided for me and I slept in a military bed but was given a room and bathroom just for me. Other soldiers knew I was a woman but keep my secret.
The uniform was big, as were the boots. I used cloth and tightly circled it around my chest to hide my breasts. I stuffed paper into the boots so my feet wouldn’t slide out. I put on the uniform and looked at myself in a mirror. Even without makeup, I was afraid I’d be noticed and discovered to be a woman.
I pushed and pinned up my hair high on my head and pulled the cap down low enough to hide my hair and almost cover my eyes. The less seen of me the better. Even without using perfume, soap, or deodorant, I still thought I smelled like a woman. I practiced lowering my voice when I spoke, although the plan was for me not to speak at all. Would I pass as a man? Sound like one? Go unnoticed among other soldiers?
For one crazy instance, I imagined myself as preparing to go on a secret mission. I thought about spy movies I’d seen or books I’d read where people had to wear disguises. Not only had I found many avenues of keeping my restaurant operating, thanks to the war, but now I found a new talent. I would have my first performance as an actress.
I did not have to walk from checkpoint to checkpoint with other soldiers, but got to ride in a tank. I remained silent, even in the tank, and the other soldiers inside with me ignored my presence. Maybe it was their way of following orders to treat me as another soldier, and keep from staring. If they didn’t look at me, I really wasn’t there.

Secret Cravings Publishing Grand Opening Contest Prizes include:
Registration for Romantic Times Booklovers Convention
Registration for Lorie Foster's Reader and Writer Get Together Weekend
Kindle, Nook, or Sony ebook reader
And more! Visit: http://www.secretcravingspublishing.com for details.


http://www.mariannestephens.net

Congratulations Jackie!

Jackie won her choice of my Breathless Press releases in the Breathless Press contest. She chose "Dinner Delights".
Awesome choice, Jackie, and congratulations.
Berengaria

Friday, December 17, 2010

Please welcome Kate Hill



Kate Hill said:

My favorite thing about Christmas and New Year is the crisp weather. I enjoy sitting by the wood burning stove, watching movies or reading and drinking tea. It's nice to be inside on a cold winter night, especially if there is some snow on the ground when you look out the window. That atmosphere also inspires story ideas, which is another reason I like it.


Bloody or Nothing: Villain Tamed
by Kate Hill
(M/M Vampire)

Blurb:

For centuries Lao has battled humankind and in doing so has made many enemies. Injured while fighting the dreaded new reign, he asks for refuge from Sudsy Waters.

The last thing Lao wants is to fall in love with a human, but when he meets Tyler, the doctor at Blood or Nothing, a love ignites that will burn all barriers Lao has built around his heart.

In the final battle with the Evil Master, the future of the world depends on Lao, but can love redeem the man feared almost as much as the devil?


Excerpt:

Lao lifted his gaze to Tyler and remained still, his expression unreadable. The doctor trailed his fingertips down his cheek and brushed a lock of long black hair behind Lao's ear. He lightly traced a thin yet jagged scar that ran from the bottom of Lao's ear almost to his chin. It was the only scar on the vampire's exotic face.

"Where did you get this?" Tyler asked, referring to the scar.

"Trusting a human."

Tyler snorted. "As if you ever trusted a human."

"I've had my moments."

Dropping his hand, Tyler said, "I suppose if you got scarred for it, that didn't give you much incentive to keep trusting us."

Lao didn't reply and Tyler tried to guess what the ancient felt, but it was impossible. Those black eyes studied him with a detached and keenly intelligent look.

"Is it true what they say about you?" Tyler continued.

"They say a lot of things. Which rumor are you referring to?"

"That you don't Change blood children out of love."

"Impertinent human."

"I've been called worse."

"And have no doubt deserved it." Lao rose, but Tyler didn't back away to give him room. They stood so close their chests almost touched. Tyler's calm blue eyes stared into his and he moistened those beautiful lips with the tip of his enticing pink tongue.

Remembering the kisses they'd shared, Lao wanted to taste him again.

Accustomed to taking what he wanted, Lao cupped the back of Tyler's strong neck and covered his mouth in a demanding kiss. The doctor's scent filled him and he heard the mortal's heart beat faster. Tyler's eyes closed and he stepped nearer. Had Lao been human, Tyler might have knocked him onto the bed.

Purchase Link:
http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1473
Bloody or Nothing Website:
http://kate-hill.com/bloodyornothing/bloodyornothing.html

Holiday Reading: Two men find love at Christmas





“Perfectly Presented” Blurb:
Blake and Xavier met a year ago at a business conference and had a passionate one-night stand. They have remained fuck buddies but neither has been willing to admit that they want a much wider, deeper, ongoing relationship.
Until Blake sees Xavier agonizing over the fact that several gift tags for poor children remained unclaimed on the holiday tree. Blake encourages Xavier to talk about his past. They spend several days together in the lead up to the holidays and come to acknowledge their relationship is so much more than just hot sex. But can Blake get Xavier to tell him about his past and his problem? Can they move from being just fuckbuddies to a real relationship?


PG Excerpt

Blake stood and walked behind Xavier's chair, resting his hands gently on Xavier's shoulders then massaging them. He felt the tight muscles loosen a little and dug his fingers into the tense tissues, working on the knots, pressing and rolling his thumbs into each bump.
Xavier rotated his neck and head, then leaned forward, relaxing into Blake's firm touch. "Hmm that feels good."
Blake moved his hands around, pressing and working all the stiff areas until there were no hard lumps left. His hands stilled momentarily before he slid them down Xavier's back and up under his sweater and shirt. They glided over the taut back muscles, up Xavier's spine and around over his sides, down, then up again, this time his fingers moving around to the solid chest wall.
Blake's fingers stilled over Xavier's nipples, the firm little discs already standing to attention.
Xavier stood, turned into Blake's arms, and wrapped his own around the other man. "Maybe it's time to move this party into the bedroom?" he suggested. The two men were almost the same height, a mere fraction under six foot, so Xavier tilted his head to the side to kiss his friend.
The kiss was sweet and gentle, a brief butterfly touching of lips to lips. Until Blake grabbed Xavier's head and held it still so he could lick along the seam of Xavier's mouth. As Xavier opened up, Blake's tongue slid inside, teasing and tasting and testing. First along the insides of his cheeks, then behind his teeth, and finally to tangle and dance with Xavier's tongue.
Blake's fingers burrowed into Xavier's black hair where it curled on his collar at the back of his neck. He stroked the neck underneath the curls, angling the other man's mouth more fully over his own, then sucked his tongue into his mouth.
When they finally drew apart both men were panting, not just from lack of oxygen, but also from the power and passion of their kisses.
Blake pulled Xavier hard against him from hips to chest, his arms like steel bands around the other man. Their cocks rubbed against each other -- two long, hard ridges, their heat obvious even through the layers of clothing. "Want you. Need you," he whispered.
"Hell yeah. I want you too."


Buy Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2974
Berengaria Brown

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Shoshanna Evers



Shoshanna said:

When I’m not writing, I’m an RN, and nursing is a round-the-clock type gig. It’s not like they can just close the hospital on Christmas – someone needs to take care of the patients, right? Since I’m Jewish, I always volunteer to work Christmas, even if it’s “my turn” to have it off. What am I going to do with the holiday off? Nothing nearly as fun as someone who actually celebrates Christmas, that’s for sure. And the look of surprise I get every year when I remind the scheduler that whoever’s scheduled to work Christmas day can switch with me is so worth it. And then I do end up celebrating Christmas, in a way, with the patients who are stuck in the hospital –and it makes me feel the Christmas spirit after all.

Ginger Snap, a Christmas Quickie

Blurb:

When Holly sits on Tom’s lap to tell him what she wants for Christmas she knows she’s naughty enough to get a lump of coal—but she never expected to get a hand of ginger root. Peeled ginger up her bottom burns like crazy without causing any actual harm—so the punishment can go on as long as naughty Holly deserves.
Ginger-figging has been used since Victorian times to keep girls from clenching against a proper caning because—as Holly finds out, clenching with ginger up her ass has her begging for mercy—and more turned-on than she’s ever been. From now on Holly has to be on her best behavior—because she knows if she’s bad, she’ll be ginger-figged!

An Excerpt From: GINGER SNAP

“Did you know that it used to be called feaguing?” Tom asked. “People would take a half-dead horse they wanted to sell, stick some freshly peeled ginger up its bottom, and the horse would prance around and hold its tail up like a much younger horse.”
“That’s terrible! Poor horsey. But why ginger?”
Tom smiled as he carefully continued to peel the outer layer off the ginger root. “Because it burns.”
Oh. Hell.
“Anyway,” Tom continued, “you know how I love old Victorian caning stories.”
Did she ever. It was one of things that attracted her to Tom, actually. The thought of being caned turned her on to no end. Actually being caned, on the other hand, was a thrill that she could only truly appreciate after the fact, when she was reliving the experience with one hand buried in her pussy.
“They used to ginger-fig the naughty ladies who needed to be caned so that they wouldn’t be able to clench their ass cheeks when the cane struck.”
“Why couldn’t they clench their ass cheeks?” Holly asked. It was like looking at a car wreck. As much as she didn’t want to know—and as much as she didn’t want to find out personally—she had to learn all about it.
“When they clenched their butt muscles the ginger in their asshole would burn terribly. So with each stroke of the cane, the young ladies had to make a choice. Clench, and the sting of the cane would be somewhat mollified. But their insides…their insides hurt a hundred times worse. Or they could try to not clench, force themselves to relax into the pain and just take the caning, and while the caning would be exquisitely stingy, their rectum wouldn’t burn quite so badly.”
“That’s quite the conundrum,” Holly said, even as she wondered what choice she would make. She’d always clenched her ass cheeks whenever Tom caned her—how could she not? That thing hurt like a bitch! But it amazed her to discover just how wet her pussy would get, even when he really laid into her.
She looked at the ginger in Tom’s hand. He was cutting an indentation at the base of the finger of ginger.
“It’s a retention notch, like on a butt plug,” he explained. “This will keep the ginger from being expelled before I want it to be.”
“How did you learn all this stuff?” Holly demanded. “I’ve never even heard of people using ginger up their ass before!”
“It’s a huge fetish,” he said, running the freshly prepared ginger under cold water and rinsing away all the little extra pieces that had stuck onto the smooth, pale yellow surface. “Once I heard about it, all I had to do was Google it and I found dozens of websites devoted solely to the art of figging.”
“Well, I appreciate the thought,” she said, “but I’m not sure how you think ginger-figging me is going to make me any less naughty.”
“Think of it as an experiment. We’re going to find out if this works.”
“When?” she asked.
“Now.”
###

Buy Link: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-8862-ginger-snap.aspx
Book trailer for Ginger Snap: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qSQofsMot8

Perfectly Presented is out now!



A delightful holiday MM romance for you!!

“Perfectly Presented” Blurb:
Blake and Xavier met a year ago at a business conference and had a passionate one-night stand. They have remained fuck buddies but neither has been willing to admit that they want a much wider, deeper, ongoing relationship.
Until Blake sees Xavier agonizing over the fact that several gift tags for poor children remained unclaimed on the holiday tree. Blake encourages Xavier to talk about his past. They spend several days together in the lead up to the holidays and come to acknowledge their relationship is so much more than just hot sex. But can Blake get Xavier to tell him about his past and his problem? Can they move from being just fuckbuddies to a real relationship?



Buy Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2974


A holiday excerpt from “Perfectly Presented” an MM erotic romance by Berengaria Brown, coming from Torquere for Christmas.


Blake Kendrick stood and looked through the plate glass wall at Xavier Kurnow. They were supposed to be meeting for dinner, and possibly a hot, sexy romp, but Xavier had been standing and staring at the gift tree in the building's lobby for five minutes now, and Blake's toes were starting to freeze despite his wool-lined boots.

Blake pushed open the door and walked into the warmth, stomping his feet to get the blood circulating again in his toes. "Hey, buddy, what's the problem?"

"Oh, hi. There's six left. Six! I didn't imagine that would happen."

"Huh? Six what? Have you been drinking already? Had a snootful of holiday cheer or what?"

Xavier waved at the tree. "Six gift tags. Six kids who no one has bought a present for yet."

"What's your point?"

"Six kids won't get a gift for Christmas. Today was the last day to take a tag. The people from the charity are collecting the parcels first thing tomorrow. And six kids are not going to get a present this holiday."

"So grab the six tags and we'll go shopping instead of out to dinner. We'll just pick up a burger or something."

Xavier looked at his friend, pain in his dark gray eyes and a slight flush on his olive skin. "I wanted to get decent gifts. Not a bike or anything like that, but not cheap crap that will be broken in a few hours either. And --"

"And you've already overspent your budget. How many tags have you taken already?"

Xavier's flush deepened. "Four."

"Okay how about we split them then. I'll take four and you take two. But I don't have any nieces or nephews so you'll have to tell me what to buy these kids."

"You don't mind? I'm not trying to push you or anything."

"You didn't even ask me, I suggested it. But we do need to get moving. The stores will be closing in a couple of hours and I really want to eat as well."

Xavier's face split in a broad grin. "You're a good friend, Blake. There's a huge toy store just a couple of blocks west and we'll grab a hotdog from a stand on the way."

"Deal."

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Today's Guest is Anny Cook with Blue Paradise




Anny Cook said:

In my family, Christmas decorations and presents weren’t of major importance. For us, Christmas centered around our church and religious observations of the season. In particular, the Christmas pageant was one of the most exciting events of the season. Schools didn’t have “seasonal” presentations back then—churches did.
Over time that changed. By the time my oldest daughter was in fourth grade, her elementary school had a big Christmas pageant planned. The school had no space large enough to hold the pageant so it was held in the high school auditorium. The program was creative and joyous and enjoyed by all the parents and families.

Near the end of the evening, teachers dressed as reindeer took the stage with a rollicking skit and song. As I was enjoying it, awareness of a shuffle and hiss crept in and I realized the children were silently lining the walls around the auditorium.

And then something magical happened.

The lights went out. A deep silence filled the huge room with anticipation. One young voice soared in the darkness.
"Let there be peace on earth..." A tiny light flicked on lighting her face.
A few more voices joined in...just a few from points all around us. "And let it begin with me…"
More lights. More voices. Until we were ringed in light and earnest small voices singing about peace on earth. Every year the memory of that evening fills my heart with both joy and sorrow. Sorrow because we still wait for peace. And joy because we still dare to hope.


Blue Paradise Blurb:

When ex-soldier Poussé receives an unexpected job offer from the mysterious Waterloo Group, she doesn’t question the providential timing. Twelve hours later she wishes she had when she’s captured by two sexy blue-skinned warriors—Jonson and Mali of Mystic Valley.

Mali and Jonson make her an offer she can’t refuse—become their bond mate. Positive she can use the new relationship to escape, Poussé accepts, but she doesn’t count on the physical changes the bonding creates or her constant desire for Jonson and Mali. Their tender touches, hot kisses and even hotter sex get under her skin—which is turning blue! As they pursue other escaped team members, she learns real love and desire have no color barriers and carnal games are best indulged in with two hot bond mates.


Blue Paradise Excerpt:

"Place your hands on the ground above your head,” a deep voice murmured in her ear. A rash of goose bumps pebbled her neck when his warm breath washed over her cold skin.
Poussé mentally shuffled through several options as she muttered, “Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute here. You’re squashing me.” The man was too heavy for her to dislodge and his position, sitting squarely on the center of her spine, left her with no leverage to work with.
He knocked her snug cap to the side. With one hand twisted in her shocking blue Mohawk and the other one still pressing the knife tip to her neck, he scooted down until he was seated on her butt.
“Move. Toss the weapon away too.”
Just for a second she considered trying to turn beneath him, but decided the risk of a slit throat was more than she was willing to bargain. Pissed off at the way he had captured her, she shoved her rifle away and stretched out her arms above her head.
With swift, blurred movements, he yanked her hands down and cuffed her wrists, winding some furry material around them and knotting it. When she lifted her head up, trying to look over her shoulder at her captor, he shoved her head back down, shifting so his body was stretched over hers from head to toe.
Her cheek was ground into the dead leaves and dirt and the scent of decaying plants tickled her nose. She clenched her teeth, desperately fighting the urge to sneeze. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Protecting you, woman.”
“Protecting me? Are you crazy? Get off me and give me back my rifle! Achoo!” The sneeze exploded with such violence her face slammed into the ground, with her nose taking the brunt.
“Quiet.”
Her eyes watered as searing pain spread across her cheeks but before she had time to complain, she was distracted by the unmistakable pressure of his hard cock pressing against her ass. “Listen, buddy. I’m not interested in that kind of action,” she protested, suddenly wriggling fiercely as she tried to throw him off.
A spicy unfamiliar scent drifted past her nose when he nipped her ear with his teeth. “Then be still or I might get the idea that you are interested. I find your ass very attractive.”
She froze, barely breathing, snuffling softly through the trickle of blood that dribbled from her nose.
He leaned forward, his cock pressing harder in the crevice between her legs as his heavy muscled chest flattened her on the ground. With a low grunt, he reached for the rifle.
Her heart stopped and stuttered before racing into a pounding gallop. The hand that touched the rifle was blue. Not tattooed. Not blue-tinged, but blue. Slowly her gaze moved up the muscular arm attached to the strange hand. Blue. Unmistakably blue. What kind of alien had captured her?
“What is this place?” She whimpered breathlessly.
A shrill whistle came from the right and he leaped to his feet, easily hauling her up by one arm to face him. “Welcome to Mystic Valley.”

This book is releasing on 17 December from Ellora's Cave.

http://annycook.blogspot.com/

Gale Stanley's CONTEST!




Gale Stanley said:

I didn’t always celebrate Christmas. In fact I married into it. My own family had never practiced our faith and I embraced the religious aspects of the holiday as well as the gift giving and decorating. I love it all and even my parents caught the holiday spirit. Three generations of family would gather to celebrate. My sister-in-law would make the Christmas Eve dinner with at least four fish dishes. We would do Christmas Day. Our perfect tree filled the house with the smell of fresh pine, competing with the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. Years passed, as did family members. The kids grew up, married and had their own kids. Now we settle for an artificial tree and celebrate at their homes. New traditions replaced the old but the joy of faith and family remain.

****

In my erotic romance, SILENT KNIGHTS, two conflicted men try to find common ground during the holiday season.

Paul Stanton thought he had it all, a great job, a beautiful condo and a stable relationship with his soul mate. When his lover dumps him for another man, Paul is forced to rethink his life. He visits his childhood home in rural Pennsylvania rather than spend the holidays alone in San Francisco. But only a few days with his family is enough to convince him that you can't go home again.

Paul leaves for the airport in the midst of a snowstorm. Stranded in the woodlands, a chance meeting between him and a hunter is his only option for survival. He knows the type. A backwoods bigot like the men he grew up with. But what choice does he have? A few days with the Mountain Man convinces Paul there's more to Andy Reynolds than meets the eye. But is it enough to bind two men who have nothing in common except their sex?

SILENT KNIGHTS is available at Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/Silent-Knights-Kindle
and
Silver Publishing: http://tinyurl.com/GS-SilentKnights

http://galestanley.net/
http://www.facebook.com/gale.stanley.author

Story Excerpt

Everything happened so fast, yet he saw it all in slow motion. A prayer came to his lips as he swerved to the left. Terror raced up his spine when he realized he was headed straight for a tree. He hit it with a dull thud.
Thrown feet over head, Andy landed face down in a snow-covered hill of pinecones that cushioned his touchdown. For a few seconds he couldn't breathe. Then strong hands grabbed him and rolled him over. Pain stabbed his chest as if he'd been staked. He spit out a mouthful of snow and someone wiped his eyes and nose.
Disoriented, he clenched his eyes shut. His head spun. He heard someone groaning and realized it was him.
"Hey, buddy, are you okay?"
Shit. The voice sounded worried. He must be in bad shape. Andy tried to sit up but firm hands pushed him down. He opened his eyes and started to protest.
Andy's heart lurched. He stared into the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. The sound of the wind faded into the background and the silent pristine wonderland provided a surreal backdrop for the white knight staring down at him. Doily-shaped flakes swirled around the man's head and caught in the dark-brown hair whipping about his face.
Andy sucked in a frosty breath. It had been a long time since he'd felt instant attraction for someone. Hell, it had been so long he hardly knew what it felt like anymore. He only knew that in the midst of the chilling temperatures, heat suffused his groin and his cock began to rise.
He couldn't have been more surprised if this man had been dropped from Santa's sled, an early Christmas present just for him. Mesmerized, Andy stared at the snowflakes clinging to the man's long eyelashes.
"Are you all right?" Green-eyes' worried voice brought him back to reality. The wind screamed again and the moment was lost. He could have been killed because of this guy. What was he doing sitting in the middle of the road in this weather?
"No thanks to you." Andy struggled to get up but green-eyes held him down easily.
Pissed, Andy could barely contain himself. He was no lightweight. This guy must be Superman.
"We should make sure nothing is broken."
"Your nose will be broken if you don't let me up."
Green-eyes held his hands up in surrender and Andy struggled to a sitting position. His heavy clothes made maneuvering in the snow that much harder. Now on eye level, he squinted at the guy and for the first time noticed that his face and lips were turning blue. It didn't go well with his eyes.
The shivering stranger stood and offered him a hand. He took it.


CONTEST
Leave a comment for a chance to win a paperback copy of A CUP OF COMFORT FOR CAT LOVERS, which includes Gale's short story POWER OF THE PURR.

Berengaria

Monday, December 13, 2010

Vampires, scorching MM and wild sexual experimentation





Like Vampires? Like Menage?

Eternity Blurb
Yolanda is a bodyguard and used to dealing with men. But falling in love with two vampires is a different kind of challenge. How will she deal with her job AND them?
Yolanda is very attracted to night security guard Atal and his partner Zadok. She agrees to a morning of acrobatic sex with the two yummy men, only to find herself falling in love with them, and wondering if they are vampires—if vampires truly exist.
While working as a bodyguard with one of the building’s clients, Yolanda spends her free time with the vampires engaging in a lot of excellent sex and getting to know them and their stories. But one evening there is a kidnapping attempt on her client. Now they all have another problem to solve and Yolanda is frustrated by the vampires’ determination to protect her at all costs.

Eternity buy Link: http://www.bookstrand.com/eternity


Like MM?

Blurb “Summer Sizzle”

Craig and Seth are both on holidays at Two Waters beach. The lust between them is instant and fiercely hot. Sex at the beach, in the woods, in the sauna… When they take a break from having sex they discover they have many interests in common and begin to build a relationship outside the bedroom.

Their growing intimacy is interrupted when Seth is called to a meeting at the school where he teaches. Seth is shattered when he and most of his colleagues find themselves suddenly unemployed due to school consolidation. His well-ordered life has come to a crashing halt, along with his vacation—and perhaps his romance.

Buy link: http://www.jasminejade.com/ps-8879-50-summer-sizzle.aspx

Like a woman who wnats to try it all?

“Vivienne’s Vacation”: blurb
Vivienne is a divorced 40-year-old social worker who wants to taste some of the more extreme sexual experiences the young women she works with have enjoyed. But she wants to do it in a safe way with men who can guarantee her excellent orgasms. So she signs a contract with Superior Vacations for some two men/one woman ménages, some light BDSM, and to watch some male/male sex. At the end of her vacation Vivi has made some important decisions about what she wants to do with the rest of her life.
After she goes back home Vivi is determined to find a fulfilling sexual relationship. She meets two much younger men, Boyd and Ryan, who have set up a farm for homeless and disenchanted young adults. There the young people find support and learn life skills, but will there be a happy ending for Vivi?

Buy link: http://www.bookstrand.com/viviennes-vacation

Dont forget to check back at the blog regularly as there are several more contests still to come.
Berengaria

Nerine's Winners!

Zuradia and Utep
are the winners of Nerine Petros' contest and she will be contacting you to claim your prizes. CONGRATULATIONS!
Everyone else, there are still more authors offering prizes during "Countdown to Christmas" so keep checking my blog!
Berengaria

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Regan Taylor is visiting today



Regan Taylor says:
Happy holidays! Growing up there was way too much drama about the holidays in our house. Take a Roman Catholic, a protestant and a grandmother who was a practicing pagan along with families and you have drama. As an adult I plain old like having a few days off from the day job. That said, some of the best holidays of my life were when I was dispatching for the California Highway Patrol. Since I didn't have family close by and no children I always offered up to work the holidays for my co-workers who had children. The sheer happiness I saw on their faces made it all worth while because if someone didn't offer, they wouldn't have those days with their kids.

Blurb:

He Plays America's Hero
She IS America's Hero

On the heels of Marine Corps F/A-18 pilot, Major Cass Winters' dramatic rescue, Hollywood Hottie, Austin Quinn decides he is going to bring the major's story to the big screen. With his long blond hand and big blue eyes, the dark haired female pilot wants nothing to do with the actor. When Quinn wrangles a fly-along with the major they land in the last place they expected.

http://www.regantaylor.com/

Excerpt:
“Yeah. I’ve watched you. No, not like one of your gaga fans.” She told him. “You aren’t that interesting, you know. You’re just a guy, a guy with long blond hair and amazing green eyes. I’ll give you the amazing on the eyes. They’re a color I don’t think I’ve ever seen before, and when they go from pale to that kind of dark mossy green like they are now, I’ll admit, if I was your normal kind of girl I’d be intrigued.”
“So you aren’t normal?”
“I’m normal. I’m just not into actors. I prefer guys with substance.”
“And I don’t have substance?”
“No, you—”
He cut her off when his lips swept across hers. She wanted to feel outrage, offended, but his lips felt so good on hers. Warm, inviting, like they were meant to be molded to hers.
And not just her lips, the thought of those lips moving down her neck, to her breasts, rubbing, not sucking or licking but rubbing across her nipples sent a shiver down her spine that ended between her legs. It didn’t end, it kept on pulsing through her, a wave of desire she didn’t think existed.
She’d been turned on by guys before, had some great sex, but this was a whole other experience, and it was just a kiss. A closed mouth kiss that left her wanting more. Wanting so much more that without thought she parted her lips, welcoming him into her mouth.
Then, when his tongue met hers, a quiver of desire shot through her again. “Quinn,” was all she managed before she brought her arms up around his neck, her fingers entangling in his thick hair. In turn he drew her into his arms, cradling her close, holding her like he cherished her above all else.
In the back of her mind she wondered if she had brought this on and then just as quickly pushed the thought away to simply enjoy the kiss. If there hadn’t been a loud, shrill bird call from outside the shack Cass would have pulled Quinn to the ground and demanded he have his way with her.
“What was that?” Quinn asked.
“A bird, I think. It didn’t sound like the merry men and their bird calls.”
“You think we should check it out?”
“Definitely. If we’re not alone we need to find out sooner rather than later. And, I think we need to think about finding some dinner, you know?”
“ Right.”
She handed him one of the pistols. “You know how to fire one of these?”
“Ah, sure. No problem.”
“If you don’t, Quinn, tell me. I don’t want to waste bullets and powder if you haven’t ever fired one.”
“And you’ve fired an old gun like this?”

Friday, December 10, 2010

Nerine Petros: CONTEST Shifting Perspectives




Merry Christmas!

I'm Nerine Petros and my first series of stories is about a Waangoo, or Dingo, shifter pack that has moved to a new town in central Queensland, Australia. There has been a lot of curiosity about the location of the stories, so here's a little bit of info about an Aussie Christmas.

For some reason, although we have one of the hottest summers around, we still manage to surround ourselves with snow. Granted, it's fake, but it's still everywhere. We spray it on our windows, we adorn the inside of our homes and outdoor trees with it (those trees look pretty funny, our natives are pretty scrawny things), our Santa's at the bigger shopping centres (we don't have Malls) are expected to have their wonderlands abounding in it; but we don't get any of the real stuff anywhere at any time of the year, at least, not in Queensland. You're also more likely to find Aussie Santa sitting on the beach in flip flops, boardies and a broad-rimmed Mexican straw hat with a XXXX beer in his hand (oh, and don't forget the multi-coloured zinc he'll have smeared across his nose either). The eye-candy factor at the beach ain't bad eitherJ.

We don't have real Christmas trees either, we have fake plastic ones that bite when you put them up each year. What we do have, is a lot of food. We love our fresh foods, from salads to seafoods and fruits, every home is just bursting with food. Food is universal, so below is our simply divine recipe for a simple shortbread. Add anything you like to make it a touch unique - choc chips, candied ginger, all spice, almonds or almond meal, macadamia nuts…anything that takes your fancy. From our house to yours, wishing you a safe and joyous Christmas with friends, family, love and, most of all, heaps of laughter.

Australian Shortbread:

5 ounces butter
2 ounces icing sugar
7 ounces plain flour
Pinch salt

Directions:
1. Cream butter and sugar;
2. Gradually add sifter flour and salt;
3. Knead lightly, refrigerate for half hour before rolling out; and
4. Cut into shapes and bake 150-160 degree oven for 10-15 minutes or until cooked.

Nb. If using Almond meal, 1-2 ounces is what we use, and we replace 1 ounce of the flour with the meal. Mix the Almond meal in first before the flour in step 2.

Shifting Perspectives Book One: Oliver and Angus:

Blurb:

Oliver lives in Australia. Specifically, in a rural town owned by a shifter wolf
pack. Life is good, but lonely, with companionship at least a four day drive
away.

Unexpectedly, five new faces move to town, shaking the very foundations Oliver
has lived with his entire life. Now, Oliver will need to decide if he is ready
to let go of loneliness forever, or if all those teeth will be just a little too
much to handle.

R rated excerpt:

Oliver was pretty sure his head was going to blow off at any moment, it felt so good,
but Angus wasn't finished with him yet. Angus moved the other hand around to the
lower curve of Oliver's bottom and gently started stroking. When Oliver had calmed,
he felt Angus move up to gently stroke the cleft between his arse cheeks. Oliver's
breathing kicked up another notch, and his hips started moving of their own accord.
Angus held him steady by moving both hands to his hips and stopping all motion.

By this stage, Oliver was incoherent. Being a virgin had no bearing now. Oliver had
done the research, he knew it would hurt the first time, but he wasn't thinking about
it right then.

"Oh, God, please don't stop, please, please," Oliver begged, "Feels so good, been so long..."

"Ah, never fear, my little boorri, you will never be left wanting again if this is what you
desire." Angus spoke directly into Oliver's ear, sending warm puffs of breath over the
lobe and inner whorls.

Oliver started shivering; that just sounded like the best damn idea he had ever heard.

Liked it? Purchase from Torquere Press TODAY for $2.99US.
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If you would like to win a free copy of Shifting Perspectives Book One: Oliver and Angus, just check out Nerine's blog to discover which two stories are due out in 2011, then send this information in an email to Berengaria before midnight on the 15th. There are two free copies up for grabs. (berengariabrown at gmail dot com with NERINE PETROS in the subject line)

http://www.nerinepetros.blogspot.com

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Day 10: Emily Cale




Emily Cale says:

My favorite thing about Christmas is the traditional food my family has. We have a standard turkey dinner with stuffing, mashed potatoes, and cranberries, but we also have some less conventional items. While we open presents, there is a large shrimp tray out that everyone snacks on. It’s always gone within a few hours. We also give the cake decorators at our local grocery store a big laugh by ordering a “Happy Birthday Jesus” cake. It is silly, but the kids in the family have always insisted on it, and now it’s an essential part of the celebration.

TAMED
Blurb:
Can a hot fling on a Wyoming ranch lead to more than just sex?
Tired of bringing home unsatisfying and nameless men, Delia Hawthorne needs a change of pace. When her Aunt invites her to spend some time at their family’s Wyoming ranch, it takes little prodding for her to agree. Time away from work, bars and men is exactly the break she's been looking for.

When Delia arrives, she finds what she has come to avoid: a take-charge ranch hand Lucas Dane. Despite her Aunt’s warning of Lucas’ womanizing reputation, she decides he may be worth the risk. What starts out as just sex quickly turns into more—forcing Delia to choose between the guy she is falling in love with and her responsibilities back home. What's a city girl to do?

Excerpt:
"You named the cow, Bessie? Creative."

"Her real name is Terra. I just like calling the cows ‘Bessie’." He moved to stand next to her.

Instinctively, she crossed her arms. Left free, she was sure they would start rubbing his body, finding all the crevices she had yet to explore. "So, this is the part of the job where you taunt me while I work?"

He chuckled. "While it would be far more entertaining for me to watch you figure this out on your own, I have other things to get done today. One of those things, getting these cows milked a second time. So, I was thinking I would just help you out. That is, if you’ll accept help."

Delia was relieved. She didn’t really want to sit there for another hour making an idiot of herself. He walked over and grabbed another pail from the equipment area.

"So what exactly is the deal here? You take your first vacation in years so that you can do chores on a ranch?"

She frowned, wondering what exactly her aunt had been telling everyone. "Who says I don't take holidays?"

"Erica told me. You haven't been here in quite a few years. Something about a guy screwing you over."

Her Aunt had a big mouth. After Chris left, she had nothing to focus on but work. Now the emptiness of her life seemed to be catching up with her. She cleared her throat, ignoring the pang in her chest.

"The first thing we need is a clean bucket. Once it’s been knocked over, it's no good anymore."

Feeling more at ease, he hadn't pushed the topic any further, she turned back to the cow. He walked into the stall and stood next to her. Yesterday, when she was wearing heels, he'd seemed tall, but now in her tennis shoes, he seemed gigantic. His chin could easily have rested on her head. "Next, you need to cozy her up. She’s usually pretty gentle, but if she doesn’t think she’s being treated right, she can get a bit unruly." He used his foot to push the stool closer. "Sit down and tuck the bucket between your knees, that way she can’t knock it over again. You wouldn’t want to do all this hard work just to have to start over a third time."

Just as he instructed, she sat on the stool with the bucket tucked tightly between her thighs. He nodded approvingly and grabbed a second stool, placing it right behind hers. He straddled the bench, his chest pressed to her back. His manly scent drifted to her nose—musk and pine. Just one whiff made her ache for him. Her juices flowed at the thought of his member pressed up against her lower back. How in God’s name was she supposed to work in these conditions?

Buy Link: http://www.breathlesspress.com/erotic/branded/tamed.html

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Countdown to Christmas: Nina Pierce




Nina Pierce:
I love Christmas with all its wrappings and trimmings; the magical wonder in a child’s eye when they see Santa at the mall, the Christmas light parades, all the baked goodies on trays at work and the holiday decorations that abound … especially in my house. I have villages and swags, candles and framed holiday pictures my children created, Santas for inside and out, dishes and special towels— everything to make my house a Christmas wonderland. Of course now that I have MS I can’t put it out all by myself and require the assistance of my family. Yeeeeeeah, to say they’re not quite as enthusiastic about the holiday atmosphere as I am is putting it mildly. This year they’ve threatened to put me out on the front lawn with the lighted tree and moving reindeer if I dare sneak one more Christmas trinket into the house. But it’s all worth it for the magic it lends to my holiday. *lovingly pats new elf village sitting next to me in the snowbank* Save for the shopping (and the chill) … Christmas is my favorite time of the year.

I want to thank Berengaria for opening her blog this month. I’m really enjoying all the holiday tidbits everyone is sharing. And just in case you need a little something/something for your true love this holiday (and to get them in the mood for a little one-on-one time *wink*), you can pick up my book “HEALER’S GARDEN” from Ellora’s Cave to read by the fire. (Buy link: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-8729-healers-garden.aspx )

BLURB:
In the female-dominated society of the twenty-third century, mating with a male, even if it is to save the human race, is a distasteful task and one Healer Jahara Hriznek has successfully avoided—until now.

Brenimyn is a gifted breeding instructor at the Garden of Serenity. Forced to copulate with all females requesting his services, he yearns to find the one woman who responds to his touch. When Jahara arrives with the new class of breeders, Brenimyn’s body immediately aches for her, but convincing the stubborn healer that sex between a man and a woman is more than just an act for procreation proves to be a challenge he refuses to fail.

Jahara doesn’t want to enjoy the sinful rapture only Brenimyn brings to her body. Brenimyn has no intention of dousing the flames of desire licking at them until Jahara is completely his—body, mind and heart. But when the government finds their loving relationship a threat to the natural order, there may be more than their stubborn wills at stake.

EXCERPT:
Patience. That’s what was required of him. But damn, he’d been treading water a hell of a long time while he waited for destiny to change the course of his life.

Brenimyn didn’t enjoy these monthly exhibitions any more than he liked copulating with Kylie. Though she’d never admit it, she detested his touch. He didn’t mind. It was less confusing without emotions getting all tangled in their peculiar relationship.

Since arriving at the Garden three years ago, Brenimyn had become accustomed to arrogant women who thought they were the only intelligent creatures walking this earth. Kylie was a prime example of that conceited attitude personified.

To the women before him, he was nothing more than a stud. Stupid, beastly and—inhuman. Oh, if only they knew what he could do, they wouldn’t think themselves so superior, now would they? But the time had not come to travel that particular road. Preparations still needed to be made. In the meantime, he would swallow his pride and let the mauling begin.

“Their physiques are quite different from ours, not all cushy and round. Rather ugly if you ask me.” Kylie pulled off Brenimyn’s tunic and smiled up at him. “Sorry, Brenimyn. I know the truth stings.”

Forcing his lips to lift, he bent and kissed her cheek. “Nothing is as beautiful and sweet as a woman, Kylie. Not even the flowers in the gardens.”

“Thank you.” She callously patted his stomach with a cold hand.

“Now, Brenimyn is going to take off his breeches. Though you all studied anatomy in school, the first look at a man’s genitals can be shocking.”

Brenimyn untied the cords at his belly slowly, seductively. This was the only time he had control and he stretched the moments out until the females before him leaned forward in breathless anticipation. His eyes locked on the only woman in the room who seemed less interested in this whole charade than him. The raven-haired beauty actually looked lost despite the maturity lining her face. Her hand caressed her cheek even as he thought of her. Her eyes shifted uncomfortably around the room, not watching as the fabric pooled at his bare feet and the inevitable gasp of awe echoed off the walls.

“Please come up and have a closer look,” Kylie said. Her hand fondled his buttocks. Touch but don’t desire, this one is mine, her caress communicated to the breeders even as her lips curved into that plastic smile he’d come to despise. “My mate is a wondrous specimen.”

Brenimyn resented Kylie. He belonged to no one. Least of all her.


Trailer link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C7APlkBV9rs
Buy link: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-8729-healers-garden.aspx
Website: http://www.NinaPierce.com
Blog: http://www.NinaPierce.com/blog
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http://www.facebook.com/pages/Nina-Pierce-Erotic-Romance-Author/148783705168
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Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Victoria Blisse: Christmas Spirit



Victoria Blisse says: As you might guess , one of my favourite things about Christmas is Christmas Spirit. I love the hope, the generosity and the love that the festive season inspires in people.
Whenever I write a seasonal story I try my best to pack it full of the good things about Christmas. It's not physical things that count, though I love the food and the carols and the decorations but it is the feeling that warms you that is the very best Christmas present you can get and that can happen without all the traditional trappings, they are but enjoyable extras. Christmas Spirit is the magic that lights adult and child eyes alike as they look through the murk of economic uncertainity and the fog of bad news and evil doings to the pure joy that is waiting for Santa to arrive.


Blurb:

Do you believe in Santa? He believes in you.

Jodi is a toll booth operator and she meets Mike when one night he forgets change for the toll. There is an instant connection and they decide to meet up on Christmas Eve for a date. However plans are almost ruined when Mike's car refuses to start but then Santa swoops down and gives them a lift on his sleigh.

Our couple get to know each other intimately during their stay at Santa's grotto and are surprised to find out that Father Christmas has a job for them both but will our virgin lovers take on the task?

Excerpt:
The greasy spoon was wittily or predictably called “The Greasy Spoon.” It was a small red-fronted café with a yellowing ‘“Open”’ sign in the window. When Jodi walked in she was hit by the smell first—Mostly grease with a hint of bacon—and the sound second. She could hear the crick-crack of the bacon frying, and that was it. The room was silent. The third thing she became aware of was that every stare in the place was directed her way.
“Ah, eh, Mikey.” A harsh, spittle-filled male voice piped up. “Who’s the lady?”
“Hiya, Lee,” Mike said. “This is my friend, Jodi.”
“Ah, eh, Jodi.” Lee leered at her, his dark beady eyes running over her frame. “It’s real nice to meetcha.” His Scouse accent was so harsh even Jodi as a local needed to concentrate to work out what he was saying.
He wiped his hand on his apron and offered it to her from behind the old, brown, melamine counter. She took the proffered hand, shook it warily and was very conscious of the sticky feeling of his fingers on hers.
“Whatcha having, Mike?” His focus changed as he swept a small stub of yellow HB pencil down from behind his ear. Jodi hadn’t seen it there until that point, because his large ears stuck out so much from his bald head.
“I’ll have my usual, Lee,” he replied. “And Jodi will have?”
“A big breakfast. Extra bacon no tomatoes. I don’t like fruit in my fry-ups.”
Lee looked at her with newfound awe.
“Oh, and a big mug of tea and a couple of rounds of toast. Cheers.”
Jodi walked off to find a table as Mike paid for their meals and took her coat off before sitting down.
“Well, Lee really likes you,” Mike stated as he sat down on one of the melded-to-the- floor, plastic chairs across from her. As he slid in, his leg bumped into hers. She apologised, but it took a moment for her to move her knee so that their legs were no longer touching. Her mind was filled with images of her naked legs wrapped up with his, his gentle touch rioting through her senses and making her crave for a lustful touch. He smiled uneasily, and she grinned back over the yellowing melamine top that might well have been white, once upon a time a very long time ago.
“Is that a good thing?” Jodi asked with a nervous giggle.
“Well, yes. It means you’ll get bigger portions, and they’ll be properly cooked. Lee likes me, and I’m not dead yet.”
When the food arrived, it looked, well, interesting. Jodi wondered what the bad option would have looked like. Grease, in her mind, was meant to be consumed in vast quantities now and then, all in one go. This was easily her grease ration for the whole of next year.
“This is a first,” Jodi said after munching on the corner of a piece of stiff, fried bread, “I’ve never been out to breakfast with a customer before.”
“Well, it’s good to know I’m a unique experience,” he replied. “And I have never been to breakfast with a beautiful tollbooth assistant before either.”
The compliment did not go unnoticed, and Jodi’s cheeks flushed as red as the thin, cheap, tinsel festooning the window beside them. After this grease, Jodi thought, I’ll be turning as green as the cotton-covered baubles too.
Again silence where both parties assessed the opposite person. Neither had really seen the other in daylight before. So, as morning had truly broken, they were seeing each other in literally a new light.
Jodi thought Mike looked a little nerdier in the light of day, but under the bright white, top that he wore she could see the outline of his surprisingly pert muscles.
Mike saw the dark-green of Jodi’s eyes properly and was amazed by the intensity in them. She looked paler by daylight and much more delicate. Both decided they still liked what they saw and continued to munch away happily, forking in fried egg and bacon as if it were their dying meal. The radio suddenly blared into audio range, and Jodi started singing along.
“A beautiful sight, we’re happy tonight,” and Mike joined in with the, “walking in a winter wonderland.”
“I like Christmas,” Jodi said. “I like the pretty decorations.” Then she raised her hand and leaned in. “Present company excepted.” she whispered eyeing the tatty Christmas tree and its few dog-eared baubles. “And the food. Ooh, I love the food. I’m making mince pies later, a few hundred of’ ‘em probably, for the old folks by me. It’s my festive goodwill thing. I’ve made the Christmas cakes already. I’ll ice those and bake mince pies.”
“That’s thoughtful of you.” Mike said, smiling, “It must take a long time to bake all that.”
“Well, not really,” she replied. “And I enjoy it. I love the smiles on the old dears’ faces as I bring them their Christmas treats. So many of them are on state pension and can barely afford to feed themselves let alone buy luxuries. I see it as doing my bit, you know?”
Mike nodded his head.
“I mean, you can always think that someone else is looking after the poor and needy of the world and go on with your life. But what if no one really is? I think it’s best to make sure to do something myself."

http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk/mybooks/teb/christmas-spirit-warms-the-heart/

Countdown to Christmas: Josephine Myles



Josephine Myles said: My favourite thing about the Christmas season is making everything from scratch. I usually make gifts for my family and closest friends – perhaps something knitted, crocheted or sewn – and I love adorning the house with handmade decorations. My mum used to get us to festoon the windows with cut paper snowflakes when I was a child, so this is something I still do every year. I also like to make at least one new ornament for the tree each year, which I decorate on the last weekend before Christmas. I have a Christmas craft box full of red and gold ribbons, thread and fripperies, and I'm really looking forward to digging it out again in December!


"Twinkle, Twinkle" – a short story by Josephine Myles. Part of the Dreamspinner Press Advent Calendar 2010, Naughty or Nice.

Blurb:

Recently moved back to his home town alone, Dr. Tom Berriman isn’t looking forward to Christmas. The only decorations he appreciates are the attractive pair of legs belonging to the electrician working on the emergency room ceiling. When the electrician comes crashing down and requires treatment for electric shock, Tom’s mortified to realize the legs belong to a guy he most definitely wasn’t friends with at school.
But newly hunky widower Vince seems willing to bury the hatchet—and Tom starts to think maybe the holiday won’t be so lonely after all!

Excerpt:

After checking in on one of his earlier patients, the redoubtable Mrs. Brown, who today claimed to have swallowed half a bottle of Toilet Duck—last week it was allegedly Persil Color laundry liquid—Tom swung by the cubicle containing his unlucky electrician. He shooed out the nurse and took a closer look at the patient. Even unconscious he was an attractive man, with strong bone structure, full lips, and silvery stubble thick on his cheeks. Tom distracted himself by examining the paperwork. Pulse, blood pressure, heart rate, breathing: all stable. Burn to left hand, second degree: washed and dressed. Patient's name… no, surely not. But then again, he had that patch of white hair too.

A soft huff drew Tom's focus from the name spelled out in bold, black ink. He looked up to meet a pair of blinking, gray-blue eyes.

“Vincent Draper.” It should have been a question, followed by a brief rundown of his current condition. Instead, it came out as an awed whisper. Last time he'd seen Vincent, he'd been a ball of blubber squeezed into a school uniform. Plastic-rimmed glasses—the cheap, NHS issue ones—had obscured his eyes, and a melancholic aura had set him even further apart from the rest of the grammar school lads. They'd picked on him mercilessly. Called him VD and made filthy jibes about his mum. They'd shoved him around, safe in the knowledge that VD didn't have the guts to fight them off.

And then that last time… that last time things had gone too far.

Tom gulped, trying to ignore the hot shame that threatened to engulf him. It was just dilated capillaries. He could bend them to his will. He stared down at the clipboard, holding it in front of him like a shield.

“What happened?” the man croaked, seeming not to have heard Tom's whisper.

“You appear to have had an electric shock. You've sustained a second-degree burn to your hand, but otherwise everything seems fine. Any aches or pains?” Proud of the way his bedside manner had returned, Tom risked a brief glance up at Vincent, whose brows contracted quizzically.

“That‟s never—” Vincent's eyes dropped to Tom's badge, and it was too late to try and conceal it. “No way! Tom Berriman! What on earth are you doing back in this dump?”

Tom gestured down at his green scrubs, too stunned to come up with a better answer.

“Yeah, I heard you went off to medical school. Fair play to you, mate. You've done well for yourself.”

Vincent's smile seemed genuine, and Tom's shoulders started to relax.

“And what about you? I didn't recognize you at first.” Tom watched Vincent push himself up, wincing as he put the weight on his injured hand but managing to get to a sitting position with his legs dangling off the bed. Although he tried really bloody hard not to ogle him, Tom wasn't convinced he'd succeeded.


buy link:
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?cPath=62_359&products_id=2082

Website: http://josephinemyles.com/