Sunday, April 30, 2017

Sneak Peek Sunday: FOREVER HIM (An Obsessed Novella) by Jeanne St. James

 An Obsessed Novella
Jeanne St. James
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance/Erotica

This is not just a love story, it’s an obsession…

I can’t keep my eyes off the tall, dark, and confident man who stops in the coffee shop every morning. I want this stranger more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before, even though I only know his first name. As an author, my imagination is my ultimate writing tool, men like Kane my muse. And the minute he leaves, I’m overcome with fantasies I can’t control and my fingers fly across the keyboard … until one day, I almost snap. My embarrassing outburst has me running out the door when he catches me and takes me to his home.

Though it’s risky, I can’t resist him. And with one kiss, he now owns me. This man will capture my sanity and trap it forever. He’ll steal me one piece at a time until he possesses me completely. He’ll ruin me for any other man. But I don’t want anyone else, for it’ll always be forever him.

Note: All books in the Obsessed series are stand-alone novellas. It is intended for audiences over 18 years of age since it includes explicit sexual situations, including BDSM.

 Available on Amazon for $0.99 for a limited time
Or FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

Kane leads me through the house to the master bedroom like he’s escorting me to the prom… with a hand to the small of my back, his other hand holding mine in front of him. I feel as if we should waltz down the hallway instead of walk.
His is the only bedroom I’ve ever been in that has double doors. But beyond them is his domain.
The room is large, more like a suite, tastefully decorated in muted colors of tans and browns. The black furniture shines, and I can’t imagine a piece of dust would last but a split moment on its surface in this household. No piles of clothes, no bottles of cologne or lotions in sight, not a stray sock or visible pair of shoes. The bedroom is as put-together as Kane with a K.
He might be a little shell-shocked if he saw my apartment. But now is not the time to worry about that. No. Right now, he directs me to the center of the room and releases me to circle as he inspects me up and down, like a filet mignon about to be devoured by a vegetarian sneaking a piece of meat.
My voice breaks as I ask, “Do you want me to get undressed?” Because why else would he bring me into his bedroom? For the actual cup of coffee I never received?
“No.” He stops, and his deep voice behind me is like an aphrodisiac. I'm already wet from the blowjob I gave him. I'm already primed and ready for him to fuck me hard and deep and fast.
But he doesn’t seem like the typical man. He appears to want to take his time, not rush. Appreciate the minute details.
“You’re exquisite,” he murmurs. His fingers rake through my long hair; then he suddenly grips a handful and forcefully yanks my head back. He presses his mouth to the tender spot where my neck meets my shoulder. Who knew that spot has the power to make me melt.
Maybe it’s not the spot, and it’s the man instead. It's possible that anywhere he places his mouth will make me come undone as he did in the kitchen. Though, I fear I’ll shatter much faster than he did. I don’t have his control… nor am I sure I want it.
His arms cross in front of me as he grips the hem of my sweater and pulls it up slowly. Up over my belly, over my ribcage, over my bra where the backs of his hands brush over my peaked nipples. I close my eyes at the sensation. He moves like molasses, and it's driving me mad. He continues, pulling the soft fabric over my head, my hair spilling around me once it’s free. He leaves my arms in the sweater. I realize why as he slides the sweater down my arms, along my back. He leaves it tangled around my wrists. My hands end up bound behind me too easily. Simply with my sweater. My lips part and a shuddered breath escapes me.
He's hard against my ass, but there are too many layers of clothes between us. I make a noise of impatience, and I hear an answering chuckle.
“Lila, we have all the time in the world.”
No, not true. I have a deadline, and he has somewhere to be. Even though I still have no idea where. He’s a man that belongs somewhere doing something.
Though, maybe he answers to no one but himself.

JEANNE ST. JAMES is an erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only 13 when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages.
She has a few new releases coming up in 2017. So keep an eye on her website at or sign up for her newsletter here.


Saturday, April 29, 2017

Release Day! Chapter 1 of Sex, Heat and Hunger: Part 2






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Chapter 1
I was in love. Hopelessly, mind-bogglingly, head-over-heels, make everyone else around me either green with envy or gag with disgust, in love. Life was perfect, my man was perfect, and I was blissfully happy despite the fact that I was forced to say “goodbye” to my perfect man Tuesday morning. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since we’d finally professed our love to one another, out in the middle of the street, red-faced and screaming at one another. And now, wrapped up in his big plush robe, I found myself standing on his threshold waving after his car as it grumbled down the driveway, wishing him a safe flight to Seattle and a productive work week.
                I missed James terribly while he was away, especially at night when I was forced to sleep alone, staring at the empty space in the bed next to me that was usually reserved for his big, gorgeous body. But at the same time, as much as I missed him, it was nice getting back into the routine of things —hitting the gym, vegging out in my pajamas in front of the television before bed. Mundane and monotonous, maybe, but they were things I looked forward to after a long and busy day at work.
                Having finally said those three magical little words to each other was the glue we’d needed to solidify and finalize our commitment to one another.  I no longer felt as though I was suddenly going to have the rug ripped out from beneath me, that he’d call it quits or just stop calling. We were in this, both of us, for the long haul. For the happily ever after, for the forever.
Wednesday night after the gym Alyssa and I grabbed dinner, where we re-hashed my stupid St. Patrick’s Day run-out. She agreed that I had yet to find closure when it came to Tom, that the memory of him still haunted me regardless of how much Max, Alex, and James had changed my opinion of men and my own self-worth and exorcised the demon from my life.  She also gave me shit for how I handled things, calling me ridiculous and childish, and agreeing that James had every right to get upset. As seems to be the case these days, I conceded and told her she was right.
Friday was here before I knew it. I was excited to see my parents but more excited to have James home. My addiction to him was becoming a bit of a problem, but I just couldn’t stop, nor did I want to. He couldn’t have gone away on business at a better time, though, for the day he left I got my period, and the day he returned it ended.
I drove home after work, packed a bag for the weekend and then made my way out to his house. The lights were on when I arrived, which was surprising as James had texted me when he got back into town to let me know he didn’t expect to leave the office until six thirty or so. When I opened the door, and the most mouth-watering aroma embraced my senses, I was nearly knocked off my feet. Oregano, basil, and roasted garlic —someone was cooking Italian!
I walked into the kitchen to find my man, wooden spoon in hand, wearing a dark green apron over two pieces of his tailor-made suit, white dress shirt, black vest, and the sky blue tie I’d bought him last week. I’d noticed it in a shop window and knew instantly how it would make his eyes glow. I’d been right. His sleeves were rolled up, and a dish towel flopped casually over his shoulder; marinara sauce simmered enticingly on the stove, and garlic toast was ready to broil. He even had a salad sitting in a big bamboo bowl and something delicious baking in the oven, chicken parmesan maybe? He knew it was one of my favorites. His back was to me as he stirred the sauce, the Sinatra on the stereo had muted my entrance. I walked up behind him and slid my arms around his waist kissing that sexy spot between his shoulder blades and inhaling his intoxicating James smell; woodsy, spicy and all man.
Turning around and taking me in his arms, he kissed me soundly.
“Hi,” I managed to say after I caught my breath, his cobalt eyes twinkling with love. I ran my hands up and into his hair, pulling ever so slightly on the dark silky strands.
He growled low and manly. “God, I missed you.” His lips against my neck, peppered kisses up one side and down the other.
“I missed you too.” I put the grocery bag up on the counter and went over to peek inside the oven; it was chicken parmesan —yum. “I thought we were just going to take my parents out for dinner tonight, and then maybe eat in tomorrow night. You said you had to work late.”
He lifted one sexy shoulder. “Yeah, I know, but I worked so much over the last three days that I’m just drained, and I want to make a good impression on your folks. And I’m dying to fuck you. Serious blue-balls here.” He pinned me against the counter with his hard body. “It’s been a long hard week. Very hard, if you get my drift. And you smell so damn good.” He thrust his hips into mine, deftly rotating them, my eyes closed from the delicious friction against my clit. Even with layers of clothes between us, the man drove me wild, made me swoon, made me yearn to yield to him. “Do we have time for a quickie before they get here?” He wiggled his eyebrows and then tilted his head down to nip at my neck.
“Probably not.” I pouted. “They’ll be here any minute. Are you nervous?” I reluctantly pushed out of his grasp and started putting the groceries away in the fridge.
“No. Well, maybe a little. I haven’t really done the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing before, and I really want them to like me. I’m kind of in love with their daughter, you know? Besotted in fact.” I looked at him and raised my eyebrows. “Oh yeah…” He nodded. "I bought a Word of the Day Calendar, I need to keep up with your verbose loquacity, and today’s word was besotted.
He poured a glass of Zinfandel and handed it to me as I giggled at his use of the new word, his playful grin making my knees weak and my core tighten in need.
“I know.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood on my toes, so I was eye level with his mouth. “They’ll love you, don’t worry. And I’m besotted with you too.”
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I looked at the clock, and it said six thirty —show time!
“Mum, Dad!” I opened the door to find my parents standing on the front steps in quiet awe of the house.
“Hi, sweetie!” My mum dropped her bags and pulled me into her arms, one of my favorite places to be. I love how my mum smelled; scents from my childhood, clean linen, Pantene shampoo and chalk from the pre-school she taught at. I’d inherited my coloring from my mother, we both have peaches and cream skin, hazel eyes and honey blonde hair. But unlike my mermaid tendrils, my mum chooses to keep hers in an adorable pixie cut that shows off her long neck and high cheekbones. Without a doubt, Anita Everly is a very attractive fifty-three-year-old woman.
I heard an impatient throat cleared behind my mother. “Hey, what about me?”
“Sorry, Dad,” I laughed, letting my mum go. “Hi.” I wrapped my arms around my father, giggling like a child as he lifted me off the ground and spun me in a circle. My dad was the fire chief and had been on the rowing team in university, he was anything but a slouch, and didn’t show his fifty-six years at all. This was a man who still ran thirty miles a week and could bench press a smart car; he was built like a “brick shit-house” as his friends liked to say. And although all three of the Everly children shared their mother’s hazel eyes, my brothers got their coloring from my dad.
All the men in our family shared that naturally tanned skin with dark blond wavy hair, though my dad kept his cut quite short and it was starting to thin. As a child, I had whined about not getting my dad’s eyes. In my opinion, they were his best feature, bright green with flecks of copper and yellow, alert and wise with humor and passion bubbling beneath the surface. The running joke in our family was that if you looked up “Daddy’s Girl” in the dictionary, there would be a picture of me clinging to my father’s legs and standing on his feet as we danced at my Uncle Dan’s wedding. Phil Everly rarely said “no” to his little girl.
I wasn’t sure if James had followed me to the door or if he was waiting in the kitchen for us, but I had my answer when my dad dropped me abruptly, and I stumbled to get my footing.
 “Oh shit, sorry. James this is my dad, Phil, and my mum, Anita. Mum, Dad this is…,” I said with a sigh as I looked at the man I loved, “this is James.” They all shook hands, and I could tell that my parents were eyeing him up warily. James, on the other hand, tottered back and forth on his feet and licked his lips nervously; it was a whole new look for him.
“Come in… come in,” I urged. “We’re going to put you in the garage apartment, but we can take your stuff up there later. James made dinner, and it’s almost ready.”
I grabbed my mum’s bag, and James reached for my dad’s. However, my dad reached for his bag at the same time, and they had a little awkward hand-over-hand moment. Poor James’ face went crimson.
“You have a lovely home,” my mother said as we led them through the foyer into the open floor plan of the house.
“Thank you, Mrs. Everly.”
“Oh, please call us Phil and Anita.”
“James designed the house himself, Mum, and did most of the work as well, bringing in his most trusted contractors only when he had to. I’ll give you the full tour later.”
“Can I get either of you anything to drink? Wine? Beer? Water? The bar’s fully stocked so just name your poison,” James asked, as he made his way back into the kitchen and started decanting a second bottle of wine.
“I’ll have a glass of wine please,” my mother said.
“Wine for me as well,” my dad said but didn’t bother to turn around. He was too busy wandering around the living room examining the rockwork around the hearth and the wood beams of the ceiling. My dad had designed and built my parent’s house as well, although not as complex or grandiose as this, I could tell he was sizing James by his craftsmanship and style.
                James seemed to relax once the meal was on the table and the wine had calmed his nerves. And his chicken parmesan had us all sporting some pretty righteous food babies.
“So, Mum, are you still interested in coming to my rebounder class in the morning?”
“Yes, honey, I’d love to try your trampoline class. I’m just afraid I’d fall off.”
I scoffed. “Nah. Nobody falls off. James’ sister came with me last weekend, and it was her first time, and she didn’t fall off. You’ll be okay. You do yoga; you’ve got core strength and balance. Dad, what are your plans for tomorrow?”
“Well, sweetie…” He took another sip of his wine while rubbing his stomach. “I would like to get to a running store or two, I need some new shorts, but it doesn’t have to be tomorrow, it could be Sunday on our way home. We’re just here to see you.”
“Well, I think James wants to do some work on his boat this weekend. Wasn’t that right, James? You wanted to try and get the boat out of winter storage and put it back in the marina?”
James nodded while taking a sip of his wine. “Oh, uh, yeah, but that can wait if your parents wanted to do something specific.”
“What kind of a boat do you have?” my dad asked.
I knew my father, the avid fisherman and boating enthusiast, would have his interest peaked the moment I mentioned James’ boat. I hoped that this would earn some brownie points for James and dissolve any last bit of awkwardness between him and my dad. I was right. My question spurred a thirty-minute discussion about fishing spots, lure preferences and boats of all sizes. As we were clearing the plates, I could tell by my dad’s questions that he was eager to see James’ boat and check it out.
                “Tell me, James, do you golf?” We were all sitting in the living room enjoying more wine and discussing our upcoming Caribbean holiday when my dad abruptly changed the subject to one of his key “are you worthy of my time and worthy of my daughter?” questions. Fortunately, however, it was a subject I had prepped James for. My father hates golf. Despises it. He calls it the “lazy man's past time” and spits when anyone calls it a sport.  Plus, as the fire chief, he loathes the amount of water it takes to hydrate the courses, especially during the hot summer season when the rest of the city is on water restriction, and there are severe fire-bans because the tinder is so dry.
James was ready. He shook his head. “No sir, I don’t. Not unless I have to, that is.” And he was telling the truth, James didn’t golf, in fact, he hated it as well and shared many of the same reasons as my father.
“Ah, I getcha.” My dad nodded, indicating he understood the pain of having to do something you hated for the sake of the greater good. “Like a golf tournament for charity or a schmoozing, elbow rubbing, ass-kissing event.”
“Yeah, exactly. But I don’t consider it a sport. After golf I still have to go for a run, get a real sweat going, you know what I mean?” And that was that. James was my father’s new favorite person.

                “Your father and I really like James, dear. We think he’s very kind and he seems to really care for you,” my mother said as we stopped into a drugstore on the way home from the gym the next morning.
“Yeah? That’s good. I’m glad you guys like him. He was so nervous.”
She ran her hand affectionately down the back of my head like only mothers can do. “And he’s one heck of a cook, and handsome. Boy, is he ever gorgeous. And he’s won your father over entirely, boats, fishing, running and a mutual hatred for golf. It’s like your dad has found a new BFF.”
I snorted, picking up a perfume sample and sniffing the nozzle, wrinkling my nose at the over-powering scent of musk. “Yeah, I figured Dad would love him.”
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Love him?”
I gave her the side-eye, a small smile playing on my lips. “Yeah… I do. I’m crazy about him, Mum.”
“Awe honey, that’s wonderful.” She beamed, resting her hand on my shoulder and giving it a motherly squeeze. “And he feels the same way? Why am I asking? Of course, he does, I see the way he looks at you. He’s crazy about you.” I smiled, picturing James’ handsome face and the way he lights up when I walk into a room.
“Do you think our age difference is going to be a problem?”
“How old is he?” We were now perusing the cosmetics section, mindlessly putting samples on the back of our hands while having one of our many heart-to-hearts.
“He just turned thirty-eight. His birthday is in January. Do you think he’s past the time of wanting to get married and have kids?”
“He’s thirty-eight?” She raised her perfectly tweezed brows while her bright hazel eyes twinkled with excitement. “Wow, he looks really good for thirty-eight. I don’t know, honey. What has he said? Does he want kids?”
“Since meeting me, he said all his priorities have changed, but I’ve never asked him to elaborate. He’s normally such a closed book, but he’s been flipping pages for me so much lately I haven’t wanted to pry too much, so I don’t really know what he means.”
                She smiled, her classically symmetrical face rosy from our workout and her eyes taking on an extra glimmer as we talked about love, my mother has always been a hopeless romantic, she believes we all have a soulmate out there just waiting for us.
“Then that’s exactly what he means, honey,” she said.  “A man like James puts his career first and his love life on the back burner, waiting for the right woman to come along. And you, my love, are that right woman, I can see it in his eyes —in both your eyes. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“What’s your key to a happy and long-lasting marriage, Mum? You and Dad have been together for almost thirty-five years. What’s your secret?”
My mother shrugged. “Keep the fights clean and the sex dirty, honey.” And she wandered off to look at the Elizabeth Arden makeup leaving me stunned.
“Mother!” I chased after her.
She rolled her eyes and exhaled with a chuckle. “Oh, chill out.”
We were giggling so much we were drawing attention. My sides hurt and I had to go on the hunt for a tissue to wipe the tears from my eyes. A hopeless romantic she might be, but my mother was also a straight shooter, she tells it like she sees it and doesn’t beat around the bush. And as much as I didn’t want to hear about her and my father’s sex life, I’d rather know that they still had plenty of romance in their relationship, then find out that they were in a loveless marriage and only stayed together out of habit.
I felt my phone vibrate and checked my text messages. It was James.

J: Your dad and I are going out in the boat. What are our dinner plans?
“Well, it looks like Dad and James are still hitting it off. They’re taking the boat for its first run of the year.”
She gushed. “Oh, your dad must be in his glory right now. Anything having to do with boats and he’s like a child at Christmas.”
“James just asked what we want to do for dinner. What do you think?”
She shrugged, holding up her hand to show me a foundation shade. “I’m good with whatever.”
I shook my head and made a face; it was much too dark for her complexion.
“Well, how about Thai? I can make reservations for later in the evening, so we’re not rushed. Are we going to go downtown after our showers?”
My mother nodded. “Yeah, sure, that sounds good.”

E: Thai for dinner. Will make a reservation for 7:00. Have fun. Xoxo

J: Sounds good. Love you.

A small tingle ran through me at the sight of “Love you” in his text. I hoped the feeling never got old.

Friday, April 28, 2017

Holy hell, look what showed up on our door step

                              Paranormal Romance


Could they hospitalize her because of the voices in her head? Every day they grew louder, and she grew more concerned. If that wasn’t enough, she needed a job and a place to live pronto. None of that seemed to be happening fast enough to keep her off the street.

Enzo crashed to earth with his battalion four hundred years ago; now his life was avoiding the government and taking care of his people. He never expected Deja to be able to breach the barrier and stand on the doorstep of his club looking for a job. His carefully planned life was going up in smoke and each new day was now better than the last.

Neither of them realized she was being hunted by both humans as well as other aliens. There was a battle brewing, and the only thing they had to fight with was the love growing between them. Deja told him love conquers all, he hoped she was right, but just in case he’d bring his beast to the fight.

Welcome to The Wolves Den where anything can happen.

#Romance #Scifi elements #Paranormal elements #Twist and turns


“Hello?” she called out. No one was in the bar area and how was she supposed to get this job if no one showed up.

A door beside the bar opened. She hadn’t realized one was there until she caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. Two of the biggest men she ever saw came out.

Football players?

That voice was her libido; recently she’s been ready to make a move as long as it was living and male.

Not football players. I think it’s illegal for males this big to play sports.

They were tall, big, and wide. Deja felt like a little person the closer the males got to her. Seven feet maybe or close to it. She wasn’t sure all she knew was she needed a job, and they had a job available.

Let’s not forget they are hot. The voice in the cage growled.

She tried to ignore that voice. A simple glance at what she kept hidden in her mind was enough to scare the daylights out of her. Which is why she kept it in a cage, it didn’t help that her libido had decided to become the best friend of the voice in the cage. She refused to give it another name because insanity might be real if she ever defined it.

The voice in the cage was growling in her head. Her libido was demanding they get laid. Why couldn’t the other parts of her realize without a job there was a real chance they might be sleeping on the street?

Damn, they are hot. They were both wearing jeans that had that well-worn look to them. The kind that hugged just enough to keep your eyes on their dicks and not on their faces. They were wearing tees, when did a t-shirt start looking this good. If she weren't desperate, she’d try to talk to one of them. Okay, she’d try to talk to that one. The one with the green eyes. She groaned they both had green eyes. The tall one, she thought. Yeah because maybe there was an inch separating them in height. The one of the left she thought in desperation with the bedroom eyes and the kiss me now lips. He had muscles for days, and all she wanted to do was touch him. His brown hair was a little long at the temples and shorter in the back but still long enough to hold onto. She bet she could be on top without him accusing her of trying to kill him.

The one on the right was just as good looking, but the one on the left was making her wet. Shit, she needed a job, not a roll in the hay.

Why can’t we get both? Yep, she was ignoring that.

“Hi, I saw your help wanted sign and came in to apply for the position.”

“You want to be a waitress?’ The guy on the right said forcing her to take her gaze away from his friend.

“No, I don’t have any experience but you said you were willing to train a bartender, and I’m willing to learn. Sounds like a match made in heaven.”

Darn it when would she learn not to say stupid things. It’s a wonder she ever landed a job.

“I’m not sure about that position.”

No, hell no. She was tired of being rejected. It didn’t matter if it was skin color or body size she wasn’t putting up with it anymore.

“So what’s your issue? Is my skin too dark or is my body to big? Do your patrons only like women who look like Barbie? Or do they like them with just a little meat on their body but not full figured like me? Maybe somebody forgot to tell them that black is beautiful. Go ahead surprise me. Tell me which one you have a problem with or it is both of them.”

Why Deja, why? Do I ask for a lot? Okay maybe I ask for a lot, but only recently and then you threaten to lock me in the cage with my friend because you say I can’t keep my hands to myself.
For once she felt sorry for her libido. It was unfair to meet someone as hot as this and find out the male was a pig.

It wasn’t her libido that was concerning her it was the voice in the cage. She was practically growling now, rubbing her body against the cage like she was in heat. That feeling she got like sometimes there was something just a little bit different about her came back.

“Why don’t we start over again. That’s Declyn, and I’m Enzo. Declyn’s in charge around here, but I usually handle the hiring.”

Enzo she would so be dreaming about him tonight.

“I’m Deja, and all I want is a job.” She lifted her chin and stuck her chest out saying without words that she was proud of who she was.

“Pity, I want so much more,” Enzo gave her a wink.

“Enzo,” Declyn’s voice held a warning in it.

What’s his problem all her voices asked at once?

“Declyn the law of the land says we can’t base our hiring practices on preference. If we can’t hire her, we need a viable reason. Forgive him this is sort of new to both of us. Neither of us has a problem with your size. In fact, I would say you’re just about perfect. We’re big men, and scrawny women don’t appeal to us. Nothing against them either it’s just that I want to know my female can take my body.”

God help her now because she could feel a line of wetness trickling down to her panties. Her libido was presently rolling around and enjoying the sensation as if she never felt pleasure before.

Anger was killing her joy, though. It kept pointing out if it wasn’t her size then it must be her color they had a problem with.

She opened her mouth to blast him.

“I’m not finished yet.”

She closed her mouth and waited she could blast him in a few minutes.

“You mentioned your color. You are an enticing brown. I want to lick you, everywhere.” He threw her a quick grin. “Your color does not put me off it doesn’t even put Declyn off. What worries us about you, and personally excites me is that you are female.”




Wednesday, April 26, 2017

You're like a fucking drug

 Coming April 29th

Available for Preorder

only $1.99





Amazon    Kobo    B&N    Itunes

“I lose all rational thought. Bear with me. I’m trying to be less controlling, but I’m a work in progress.” He ran his hands through his hair and across his face in frustration. “Emma… I’m addicted to you, you’re like a fucking drug, and when I think someone else wants my drug, I go mental.” His eyes were beseeching, sadness and remorse clouding his face as he reached for my hand again. I let him take it this time, though, I held my ground and didn’t move into his arms. “I’m sorry.”
I shivered, frowning as I sensed something deeper, something intense, a secret. It touched me but scared me too. Pain and loss flicked behind his eyes. Had he been cheated on in the past? Did he get his heart broken too? Was that why he was so possessive? But he would have told me if he had, shared with me when I spilled my guts about Tom. Right?

 I wanted to know what it was all about; wanted to know everything about this man I adored, loved… but at the same time perhaps I didn’t. I didn’t want anything to ruin our perfect holiday, our disgustingly surreal infatuation with one another where everything was blissfully beautiful. 

Emma Everly only ever dreamed of meeting a man like millionaire project developer James Shaw. She never imaged she would fall in love with him, a man so intense, so dominating he radiates power and control no matter where he goes. What begins as a sex-only arrangement for pleasure becomes a heated, hungry, all-consuming obsession. James claims the keys to her heart and her mind, opening them to the wilder side of sex and bondage. But her painful history with relationships gets in the way of accepting that he finds her beautiful and worthy of love.

James is devoted to caring for Emma’s every need, but his past haunts him, too. Guarded and evasive, he avoids Emma’s questions, unwilling to divulge his secrets. She knows the only way to truly earn James’ trust and get him to open his heart is to show him just how committed she is. Despite her lingering fears and people determined to tear them apart, can she go all-in and give herself entirely to him, body and soul?

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Author Mary Quast Talks About Flirting

I love using flirting in my books and I don't hesitate to flirt with my honey. Flirting is a subtle and not too serious aspect of romance. It is a basic instinct to want to charm the other sex.  However, flirting isn’t only for singles; just because you are in a committed relationship doesn’t mean you need to stop flirting with your honey.  Flash an unexpected smile at him and watch his eyes begin to twinkle as he smiles back.  Flirting can be fun and sexy.

Here are a few tips for singles and couples:

Body Language
  • Throw sidelong glances frequently
  • Prolonged eye contact -Eye contact is very essential at the time of flirting. It shows that you are confident about yourself.
  • Arched eyebrows
  • Winking
  • Touch your neck or hair after looking at him
  • Smiling - A smile not only breaks the ice and makes the atmosphere easy going, but also improves your face value.
  • Licking of lips
  • Touching the lips or teeth with tongue
  • Thrusting breasts outward
  • Mirroring or copying posture
  • Leaning inward
Other Behavior
  • Any form of touching
  • Playing with hands 
  • Laughter
  • Whispering
  • Personal questions, everyone likes to talk about themselves
  • Singling someone out in a group for conversation and questions

However if you are single and you flirt, keep in mind that flirting should indicate your interest in getting to know someone.   Flirting is designed to make the person you're flirting with feel attractive and special, not intimidated.

For fun, CLICK HERE to take a little quiz and find out how seductive you are.  

Visit Mary Quast's blog Romantic Interludes for more romantic tips. Today is Tasty Tuesday - Food For Sex, find out how certain foods can spice up your sex life.

Monday, April 24, 2017

It Takes a Cat Burglar - Available for Pre-order

Cailin Briste here, and I have big news to share.

It Takes a Cat Burglar: A Thief in Love Romance will release on May 7th.

It will be available in Kindle Unlimited on that day.

Pre-order it now and it will be ready to download to your Kindle and keep forever at the low price of $2.99. Okay that's not low. If you can wait 30 more days, I'll be putting it on sale, but if you can't,

You can also sign up for my newsletter to get a reminder that it’s officially released. See link below.

Now for a taste of this hot 120+ page novella. 

It Takes a Cat Burglar: A Thief in Love Suspense Romance
By Cailin Briste

When Darcelle Lebeau throws off the invisible chains that keep her bound to her family, she discovers a new vocation. Tempted to enter the illegal playground of a man she nicknames Matou, she becomes a cat burglar in training. Deeply ensnared with each task he entices her to fulfill, she fails to discover his identity and true intentions.

Sebastian St. Croix, a wealthy businessman, has a dark side. He’s a thief, a cat burglar who steals art and historical objects. For one year, he trains Darcelle to become his assistant, remaining incognito, observing her from afar. His admiration grows along with his desire for her with every phase-one challenge she completes. Phase two will test the limits of his control. Hands-on personal training? Yes. Sex? No. With his sister’s happiness at stake, nothing, not even the tempting Darcelle Lebeau, can interfere with accomplishing the biggest break-in of his career.

Darcelle’s reflection stared back at her from the solid mirror that covered the side of the Jepsen Building where she hung, suspended twelve hundred feet above the city sidewalk. Anger and determination filled the charcoal-gray eyes of her mirror image. Even as an infant, the darkness integral to her nature must have peered out of round, solemn baby eyes that weren’t the expected dark brown of her mother and father or the amber of her twin sister. No, she’d been born with eyes best described as a grayish mist. With each passing year, they’d grown darker. Someday they might rival the night sky that tonight was a wash of black pushed back by the ineffectual streetlights below and the pale serenity of a waning moon. The skull cap she wore covered the braids she’d used to tame her masses of kinky cinnamon curls.

No breeze stirred the night air, for which she was thankful. The micro-cable anchored to the sidewalk didn’t allow for much sway as the winch above pulled her higher. The noise of traffic wafted up like a soundtrack to another reality.

She swung a leg over the ledge surrounding the roof of the building. Sunrise was less than an hour away, but for now, the wealthy residents of the Jepsen slept below her, convinced that the security they spent thousands of credits on created an impenetrable barrier around them. She smirked, satisfied she was about to prove them wrong. The latest antiskimmer technology may prevent aircars from landing, but it didn’t keep out birds or, as in her case, people who avoided the domed security field by slipping under it at the edge of the building’s roof.

Security plans always had holes. Her day job at the Art et Antiquités Institut de la Sécurité was to close those she discovered in her client’s protection profiles, or at least render them too small to be exploited. Your average cat burglar couldn’t accomplish what she was attempting. The mirrored facade of the building resisted any attachments, so any of the standard slick surface anchors were worthless, as were the nonslip soles of her shoes. It was worse than trying to climb on ice.

Over the last year Darcelle had honed her skills to surpass those of the typical thief. The instructions she received before each job had included training exercises and detailed steps for committing each robbery. It was as though she was being mentored by a master thief, a man she’d never seen much less met or spoken with. Notes were his sole means of communication, written in a flowing script that was both masculine and artistic.

This was the most difficult assignment she’d received. She couldn’t land on the top of the building, she couldn’t climb the side, and attempting to penetrate through an entrance was equally impossible. Not a problem.

The surface of the roof was covered in fine-grain sand. She dropped from the ledge, squatting to avoid skidding and falling on her ass. The bands of her harness burned as though they were embedded in her skin. She snapped the releases and pulled the harness off, rubbing between her legs and over her lower butt cheeks. The painful part of this operation was over. She let the harness fall next to the winch. When the break-in was discovered, they’d find the hoist chem-sealed to the ledge of the Jepsen’s roof. Let the security guards figure that out. It hadn’t taken her long the previous night to use a gravity drone to slip it under the security field and drop it onto the ledge. The breakable containers filled with chems on the winch’s underside had smashed, allowing the contents to mix and bond the winch to the stone, and the hoist had been ready to use.

She turned, squinting across the roof at an aircar circling in the distance. Time to get indoors.

About Cailin:
Cailin has been writing fiction for six years and non-fiction for two decades. Her non-fiction work has been published in magazines and in a non-fiction anthology. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America, the RWA Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal Chapter, and the RWA Passionate Ink Chapter.

Cailin likes to flip convention on its head, creating a universe in which each planet is a study in different what ifs. What would happen to alpha men on a matriarchal planet? How would society handle it if girls born on their new planet developed empathic senses?

She is currently writing the third book in her Sons of Tallav sci-fi erotic romance series. Shane: Marshal of Tallav and Maon: Marshal of Tallav were released in 2016 by Loose Id. She’s also working on a novella, tentatively title Educated by the Master, for an SFR Shooting Stars anthology.

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