Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Special Midweek Promo with Cree Walker's Maple Lane Manor

I'm here with a special post, promoting newest release from Cree Walker and Naughty Nights Press; Maple Lane Manor: Home for Retired Supernaturals. This promises to be a very hot, interesting read. And it has the very hunky Francis Cura on the cover. What's not to love?!

Maple Lane returns to the retirement home where she grew up, after ten years away, and must face the music. How can she rebuild the dilapidated building, repay a massive mortgage, and restore her residents’ faith in her with her arch-nemesis –Stacy Three Names—breathing down her neck, hungry for an artifact said to grant immortality? As Stacy sabotages Maple’s efforts, the gorgeous new handyman Derek complicates matters with his demon blood and hot attraction.
How can Maple and her residents fight Stacy, find the artifact, and save their home with the rich and powerful of the town arrayed against them?
…And can she trust a demon to help her?

It's strictly a romance but here is the steamiest scene in the book
Derek had gone straight to his room, so I didn’t expect to see him again, but he was standing in his doorway as I tried sneaking passed.
“Is everyone tucked in?”
I clutched my chest with one hand and covered a scream with the other.
He gave me one of his crooked grins and gently pulled me into his room, closing the door quietly behind me. “You didn’t think I was going to let you off that easy, did you?”
“I was hoping.”
He cocked his head. “Were you, now?”
Sort of. I nodded emphatically.
He shook his head slowly as he closed the distance between us. “I’d have to be a dead man to allow you to get out of that dress without at least offering my assistance.” He leaned down and kissed me lightly.
“You’re gonna be a dead man if Walter finds out,” I said.
He grinned and slid a hand up my bare back beneath the silver chains. “I’m just helping you out.”
Of the dress, or other things?
“I have to go take a shower,” I said breathlessly.
“It’s the dry season, and your shower today must have taken close to an hour.” He leaned in again, and I felt him grin against my throat before he kissed me just above my collarbone.
He was an incubus. Of course he’d know about my special alone time in the shower. And as of late, that time was becoming embarrassingly frequent.
“I’m afraid if I don’t help you out tonight, we’ll run out of water by tomorrow.”
“Just to be clear, you’re not talking about the dress anymore, are you?”
“That’s part of it, yeah.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you just need a cookie or something.”
In response he put his forehead against mine and gripped my ass, pressing me against the door with his body. “I don’t think that’s going to cover it anymore.” His voice came out all husky and wanting, the way I’d always imagined it.
“I don’t think a shower’s going to do me much good, either.”
He chuckled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Maple Lane Manor, Home for Retired Supernaturals, finalist for the 2013 UpAuthor's Fiction Challenge.
The Paranormal Romance Guild gives Maple Lane Manor, Home for Retired Supernaturals 5 Stars..."This is a wonderful book filled with romance, betrayal, lies, and suspense. It also has some amazing characters. What I liked most was that there were not so many characters that you lost track of who is who. If you love paranormal books than this one is perfect, it is paranormal with a healthy serving of humor." PRG Reviewer Linda Tonis

Released today from Naughty Nights Press. Also available at all the usual places, All Romance eBooks, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, Apple, Kobo. But please keep in mind due to limited access to internet, this has had to be pre-scheduled, before the release, so the only link I had available was direct to Naughty Nights Press. It's the best place to buy from! 

Sunday, July 28, 2013

Promo Monday with Jess Buffett

A lovely author whom I've had the pleasure of becoming friends with recently, Jess is a fellow Aussie like myself. She's here today to share with us her very saucy Cowboy's Chocolate Roses. Who wouldn't be drawn in by that title...

Meet The Characters Of
Cowboy’s Chocolate Roses

Name: Brianna “Bri” Evans
DOB: September 3rd
Height: 5”10
Eye Color: Lavender
Occupation: Accountant

Bio: Bri is the daughter of a wealthy businessman. She is strong and stubborn, but finds it easy to enjoy the small things in life. For two years she has desperately fought to overcome a horrific trauma, and she is now ready to take back her life.

Name: Joshua “Josh” Kell
DOB: October 9th
Height: 6”6
Eye Color: Honey-Golden
Occupation: Ranch and business owner

Bio: Josh is the older, more responsible brother. Taking over the ranch when his parents passed, he has built it into a multi-million dollar business. But he is a simple cowboy at heart and is more than ready to settle down with the woman of his dreams.

Cowboy’s Chocolate Roses

Joshua Kell signs a deal that will set his ranch up for life and then spends the night with the woman of his dreams. Waking up alone, he returns home, nursing a broken heart.
Brianna Evans struggles to overcome a horrific trauma. After two years, she's finally taking back control of her life, but she panics when she wakes up next to Josh.
Bri has to find him again, and when she does, hopes he'll understand and forgive her for running. She wants the chance to be happy again. But when a ghost from her past threatens to take everything away, Bri has to trust her cowboy will stop at nothing to keep her safe.

God, she suddenly wanted nothing else. She allowed him to pull her onto the bed beside him. Josh rolled them, holding himself above her. Leaning down, he delivered a series of soft kisses along her jaw, leading to her lips. They parted on a lustful moan and Josh took full advantage, slipping his tongue in and tangling it with hers.
Pulling back, he panted, "I won't let him near you, I swear."
"I know. Please… help me forget," she pleaded, pulling him back down.
He kissed her leisurely, whispering, "Not allowed to forget this time."
"Josh," Bri gasped as he leaned down to kiss the tender flesh of her neck.
His hands slid up and down her sides, moving higher and higher until he reached the curve of her breasts. A deep moan spilled out when Josh finally brought them around to cup her mounds.
"Josh. Please, yes…" she whispered.
Josh traced his tongue over her throat, then to her ear, nipping at it lightly. Her breath caught when he plucked at first one, then the other nipple through the flimsy material of her gown. Her legs drew up around his waist, holding him more firmly to her. Josh continued to knead her flesh, his hands abruptly drifting downwards, leaving her feeling bereft. She groaned in disappointment.
Her moan turned into a gasp when he grabbed the hem of the nightie and yanked it up and off of her. Hooking his fingers into the cotton of her panties, he pulled back long enough to slide them down and off her legs before settling back into place. She now lay naked and exposed, and she revelled in the feel of his body on top of her. A small cry left her lips when he slipped a hand between her parted legs, his fingers stroking at her folds. It had been so long.
Feeling her ready for him seemed to snap his control and Josh abruptly sat up. He undid the button of his jeans, shoving them down his hips, taking his briefs with them. He kneeled between her legs, bare as she, his shaft leaking as it stood at its full length. He had to be at least nine inches. Lying on top of her, he dipped his head, his hot breath on her breast. She moaned when his mouth claimed her erect nipple, and she shuddered, clutching him tighter when he closed over the small nub and began to suck, sending shock waves of pleasure and excitement rippling through her.
Her need for him grew when his hand found its way lower and he pressed against the wet folds of her pussy again, this time parting them and finding her swollen clit. Stroking her with his thumb, he slid two fingers inside of her.
She cried out his name, "Josh!"
"God, you're so wet. So ready for me already," he groaned, thrusting his fingers deep.
"Yes. Please, I'm so ready. Take me, now," she demanded. She couldn't stand it anymore, she needed him now.
"Yes. Now," he rasped and positioned himself and drove into her.

Bri screamed out in ecstasy as she came.

That's certainly whet my appetite!

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Author Chat Friday with Karenna Colcroft

When I See You Smile

Folks who know me and my writing know that usually I have a new book release at least once a month. Back in June, I had two. The first one, I blogged about here last month. The second one released June 28, two days before my birthday, so I wanted to share. 

When I See You Smile is part of MLR Press’s Mixed Tape anthology series of stories based on songs from the 1980s and 1990s. I chose a song that meant a lot to me in those days, but then needed a plot to go with it. Fortunately, MLR’s editor goddess Kris Jacen had, not too long before, issued a challenge for scenes with musicians. I decided the scene I wrote in response to that challenge would be a good place to start for my Mixed Tape series.

This story marks my first attempt at an actual BDSM romance, as opposed to a story with characters who dabble a bit into Dominance and submission. Hopefully readers enjoy it and like rocker Kieran West and his lover/submissive Deacon Shea as much as I do. Here’s the blurb and a short excerpt, and you can find the book at http://www.mlrbooks.com/ShowBook.php?book=KC_WISYS:

Although rocker Kieran West is openly gay, only a handful of people know about his relationship with his lover--and submissive--Deacon Shea. Although he knows the BDSM part of their relationship must remain a secret, Kieran wants the world to know that he and Deke are in love, and he wants to make Deke a permanent part of his life.

Hands reached up from the front row, and he grinned down at the little beauties who would 
probably kill for a night in his bed. That was the biggest rush. They didn’t only want his music. They wanted him. When he’d first started out, he’d been stunned at how many women had not only begged but practically ordered him to fuck them. A tiny brush with fame consisting of a suck job in a darkened hall, or a fast, hard fuck against the wall in an alley after he exited the stage door. 

He’d taken full advantage in the early years. Before Deacon had entered his life. 

Seeing those hands, hearing the cries of, “Kieran! Yes, yes, Kieran!” from the audience, turned him on so goddamn much he could barely finish the last song. He wouldn’t be choosing a woman, though. Deke was waiting for him backstage. And that knowledge spiked Kieran’s arousal so much he could have come on the spot. Deacon’s perfect mouth 
and tight little ass had filled more of Kieran’s dreams and fantasies than any ever had. And the reality, having those lush lips around his cock or seeing Deke’s hands cuffed above his head, his ass cheeks turning red as Kieran flogged him, was better than any fantasy. 

He finished the song and called out to the crowd. “Thank you—” 

He glanced at his guitarist, who mouthed, “Philly.”

“Thank you, Philadelphia!” Kieran raised his guitar above his head, and the crowd’s cheers grew deafening. “You guys are awesome! Keep partying!” 

They yelled for an encore. For more Kieran West. For a moment, Kieran was ready to give it to them. He could do this all fucking night. They would stay. They would do anything for Kieran West.

The guitarist shook his head and tapped his wrist. Time to go. The song they’d just done had been an encore. Kieran had forgotten. 

Hazy from the afterglow—playing and singing was almost as good as sex—Kieran waved to the crowd, blew a kiss which elicited more screams, and hurried backstage.

He handed his guitar to someone. He didn’t see who, and it didn’t matter. His crew would take good care of the instrument. And Deke was standing right in front of him, waiting to take care of a completely different instrument.

Kieran threw his arms around the man and dragged him backward. “Fuck me.”

“Kieran, man, people want to talk to you,” Deke protested, though he didn’t try to stop him. He’d learned not to mess with Kieran when he was in this kind of shape. Kieran had trained him well. He hadn’t used the word which would have signaled Deacon that it was time to submit, but Deke knew who was in charge here. Especially after a concert.

“Fuck ’em.” Kieran stopped long enough to nip at his lover’s earlobe. Deke whimpered but didn’t make any louder sound. “Scratch that. Fuck you. Fuck me. Don’t goddamn care. Just fuck.”

Deke laughed and took control of their movement. Kieran allowed it because he knew what 
waited at the end of their little trip. Deacon pulled Kieran through an open door and slammed it closed. A second later, a dim bulb lit above them. “Scoped this out before the show. I know how you get.”

“Oh?” He loved the way Deke always thought ahead. On fire now, Kieran yanked down the zipper on his tight jeans and shoved them to his thighs. He was naked and hard beneath them. Underwear just got in the way. “And how is that?”

“Horny as hell.” 

Deke dropped to his knees and engulfed Kieran’s raging cock with his warm, wet mouth. Kieran threw his head back and tried not to scream. He was so fucking hard, and the sensations from Deke’s lips and tongue had him at the edge within seconds. So much pleasure, such intense feelings running through over his skin. So goddamn hot seeing Deke on his knees, taking whatever Kieran wanted to give him and giving everything back. Such a good boy. 

“Going to come,” he grunted.

Deke looked up at him and grinned around Kieran’s shaft. And that was all it took. The sight of the man he loved so happy about sucking his dick was better than a million fans. 

Kieran exploded, and now it was Deacon’s name being screamed. Deacon made him feel better than any concert, any award. Anything in the fucking universe.

It was Deacon. Only him.

Sunday, July 14, 2013

A bit of a disruption to our regular programming...

As you might already know, The Phoenix is about to move this week, and with setting up a new interenet connection, I'll be unable to get online to post blogs myself for the next few weeks. I've been able to pre-schedule a number of them, so for the most part posts will appear as per usual, however a few will be missing and I apologise now for those days. However I will be aiming to get back online as soon as possible to keep bringing you some interesting books and the thoughts of some of my fellow writers. 
I won't be sitting idle while I'm offline, of course. I have editing to do for a fellow author, as well as two of my own short stories, plus taking the time to be able to review a couple upcoming releases from Naughty Nights Press. So there will be plenty to share when I come back!
For those who haven't yet read The Wolf in the Neighborhood, now is a great time to do it, too. Well, anytime is a great time, really. Would love to hear what some more readers think of it, so don't forget, when you do get your copy, just about anywhere you buy it allows for reviews. 
That's enough for now, have some last few things to pack and clean, so I'll be back soon!
Stay Naughty but play it safe! 

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Author Chat Friday with Alysha Ellis and a tempting tale...

A surprise short story from the delightful mind of Alysha Ellis... Because we like to keep you guessing ;)

Chance Encounter
Celia sat at the bar in the five star hotel and cursed herself silently. When her mother told her she’d set up a blind date for her,—“With my friend Tessa’s son. He’s a lovely boy. Such a sweet personality,” any normal woman would have reminded her that the last five dates she’d gone on to please her had been disasters. Celia loved her mother, but the woman was determined to see her daughter married. No matter how often Celia tried to tell her she didn’t need her help, her mother kept on trying. Stubborn didn’t begin to describe her. But Celia had had enough. This blind date was the last one she’d ever go on. No matter what her mother did, she’d just say no and keep on saying it.
She’d chosen a seat with a clear view across the lobby to the coffee shop where she was supposed to meet her blind date. If Johnson Bartholomew Winthrop was as pompous and stuffy as his name, she could make her escape without ever speaking to the man.
She ordered a large glass of wine and took a sip. The sip turned into a gulp when a man about thirty years old and thirty pounds overweight, dressed in dark conservative pants and a knit polo shirt that did nothing to hide his paunch, walked up to the coffee shop, cast a quick look around the lobby and scurried inside. Celia swallowed the rest of the wine and stood.
“You’re not leaving are you?”
She turned to see who’d spoken and her heart did a triple somersault. Beside her sat a vision of masculine perfection. Golden blond hair, clear blue eyes and a luscious mouth. His black t-shirt draped over a muscled chest. Blue jeans covered lean, powerful legs. His booted feet hooked over the rungs of the barstool. Her conservative, socialite mother would hate him.
Celia sat back down.
He shifted his stool closer to hers. “Buy you another drink?”
She nodded and her head swam a little. When the wine he ordered arrived, she sipped slowly.
“You staying at the hotel?” His voice had a husky rasp that made Celia’s toes curl.
“I just came to meet someone.”
His lips curled into a delicious smile. “I’m someone.”
Heat burned through Celia’s body. Just once she wanted to rebel, to do something wild and wanton, to show her family she was more than a pawn to be moved into the correct school, the correct college, the correct job and worst of all the correct relationship.
She got to her feet, swayed a little then stood firm. “Do you have a room?”
He straightened. “Honey, are you sure?” He cast a glance at the wine glass in front of her. “Maybe it’s the alcohol talking.”
She grabbed his hand. “I know what I’m doing. I want you. Now.”
He got to his feet, towering five or six inches above her own five foot nine. He put his hand on her shoulders and leaned in close. “If you’re certain this is what you want, I’d love to.”
He pulled her close and the rigid cylinder of his erection pushed against her hip. She clenched her hands to keep from grabbing it right there in the bar, and gasped out through her tight throat. “Come on.”
They shared the elevator with other people, but when they reached his room he pushed her inside, spun her around and body slammed her up against the door. He bent his head and covered her lips with his mouth.
His tongue thrust in and out and hips ground against hers. Moisture flooded her, warm and ready. She reached out and undid the snap of his jeans. The harsh rush of air in and out of fevered lungs drowned out rasp of the zip.  She shoved her hands inside and whimpered in delight.  He wore no underwear.
Her hands closed around his hot, smooth cock.
 He shoved his pants down to his ankles, pausing only to extract a foil packet from the front pocket, then he hiked her dress up to her waist, ripped her thong panties away, covered himself and thrust inside.  She opened her legs wide, aching to take him.
He angled his body and lifted so she sank down on his shaft. The deep penetration forced a gasp of pleasure from her. He gripped her hips and lifted her, then let her slide down until she pressed against the root of his cock. She writhed and twisted, wanting the unbearable tension to snap and push her over the edge and at the same time wanting more, more, more.
Her legs collapsed, but he held her upright, her back pressed against the wall—her hips slamming against it with each thrust.
He groaned and her muscles tensed. The tension coiled higher and higher. Just when she was certain she could take no more he reached down between them with two fingers and pulsed them hard and fast against her clit.
She screamed and her body dissolved into waves of orgasm. Through the roaring of blood in her ears she heard him groan, felt his cock pumping as he came.
After a moment he straightened and gently withdrew. Celia sank towards the floor. He caught her in his arms, carried her to the bed, settled her on top of the covers and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
Celia heard the snick of the bathroom door open and closing but she lay there, too exhausted and far too satisfied to move.
When he returned, he’d removed the condom and his clothes. Celia couldn’t stop her appreciative grin. He looked just as good without clothes as he did with them. Better. His golden skin stretched across a firm body. She gasped.  On his hip, low and to the centre, he had a small tattoo of a dragon. Her tongue sneaked out to moisten her lips. She wanted to take a long, loving bite of that.
He sat on the side of the bed. “You gonna pull that dress back down and go?”
She lifted her head and looked down at the black material still bunched around her waist. “Do you want me to?”
His eyes grew heavy. “I want you to stay.”
She pulled the dress over her head and flung it aside. “I want that too.”
He lay down beside her. She ran her hands idly over his stomach. He grinned at her. “I’m glad I decided to go into the bar instead of doing what my mother wanted.”
Celia swallowed. “What your mother wanted?”
He shrugged. “She set me up with a blind date with the daughter of some friend of hers. I decided not to go through with it so I went to the bar instead.”
Celia grabbed his hand and held it tight. “What’s your name?”

“Call me J. B.” He looked sheepish. “Who’d want to answer to a name like Johnson Bartholomew Winthrop?”

Friday, July 5, 2013

Author Chat Friday with Phoenix Johnson

Yes, things are a bit hiccupy right now, and it's supposed to be Alysha this week but due to  some circumstances, for this month we've traded places. So instead she'll be Chatting next Friday. 
Being that I'm posting a week earlier than normal, I hadn't quite gotten my post together, so I'm going to wing it, and talk about something that most people go through, authors in particular, and a few ways to hopefully tackle it. 
I'm talking about stress from overloading oneself. I am guilty of doing that quite a lot. See, I get bored and fidgety rather easily, so am always having to do something of some sort. That is why I'm studying full time, writing, had been proof-reading for Secret Cravings as well as being a stay at home mother (about to be to two!). I need to have something to keep my mind busy at all times otherwise I just grow bored and irritable. However it had begun to catch up on me, as it will eventually catch up to anyone who tries to juggle too much. I was battling anxiety and depression and still trying to take on more which only made things worse; I was caught in a vicious cycle. 
So what did I do to change? I asked my doctor for help, because that's always a good first step. Ask for help.Suck up that ego, and reach out. 
I started seeing someone to help me manage it once every two weeks. Not too long later, she was happy enough to extend time between appointments, and now I've got it mostly under control; I'm lucky enough it's only taken about 7-8 months. Some people take a lot longer. 
For those who aren't yet ready to admit they need help, or for those who just need a little bit of management advice for their stress, I want to share a few tips that I have picked up.
ASK. It's not a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength to admit you need help. 
BREATHE. When you feel things are starting to overwhelm you, take a minute, take 5. Hell, take an hour or two if you need it. Use that time to sit back, close your eyes, take deep breaths and let yourself relax. Let your mind wonder. And don't feel guilty about taking the time. We are humans, not machines. We need down time. 
TALK. Find someone you can talk to when things are getting too much. Maybe just a friend over a coffee, or a Skype chat with a friend or family member overseas. It doesn't matter who; just find that support and know when to use it. Get those frustrations out. 

LISTEN. A good support person listens to you talk, but you also need to listen to them. Maybe they have some invaluable advice or fresh ideas on how to tackle whatever is that's bothering you. 
WRITE. Now, this doesn't just apply to authors. Anyone can find therapy in writing. It doesn't matter if it's just a scrap of paper on which you write out your frustrations, to then scrunch it up and throw it out. (Burning the paper is quite a symbolic gesture, as well. Just obviously take care when dealing with flames!) It's the act of getting your frustrations, your anger etc out in some form. And it doesn't just apply to writing. Paint, draw, jog your frustrations out. Scream in to a pillow. Find how best to vent your frustrations etc and when they're creeping up, let them out!

These are just some basic suggestions. Simple, and obvious, but often they are things we don't do, even though they are some of the most effective ways to relieve stress. What is most important is that you keep aware of your stress levels and find ways to keep in under control. Always be conscious of what is going on in your mind, and with your emotions because no matter how much you try to deny it, you are a sensitive being, and can only ignore stress for so long before it knocks you out!