Cerise DeLand’s new #Regency, #2 in her Romps, RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE! Nibble her new cherry!

A warm welcome to Cerise DeLand!

Everyone loves Cinderella story. Why not have one with a mystery about why and how such a lovely woman is so impoverished and treated so badly by her relatives?
Cerise DeLand does it for you in RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE, the second in her Regency Romps series. (The first is LADY VARNEY’S RIDQUE BUSINESS.)

Anna Fournier never intended to fall in love. Not with any man. Especially not a duke. But Hugh Lattimer persists in courting her despite the scandal that surrounds her—and the innuendo that could ruin him.
Can she escape her past and embrace a future as Hugh’s duchess? Or will the man who murdered her father ruin her future once and for all?

RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE Regency Romp 2 by Cerise DeLand-1900x2850

Need a nibble?
Of Course you do!
Copyright 2014, Cerise DeLand/All Rights Reserved.
“Your Grace?”
Hugh whirled to face his coachman, the wind biting into his hope that Anna would venture out to meet him on such a bitter day.
“Yes, Warren. What is it?”
The man huddled in his woolen livery, frozen, rubbing his hands together. “We hired the man’s hack for two hours. But the horses are very cold standing as they are, Your Grace. Can I not make a circle of the garden to stir their blood a bit?”
“Yes, do.” He could not keep his good servant out in such hideous weather. That was unkind. Unnecessary.
He stared down the lane again, narrowing his eyes.
She was…
There! Coming toward him. It was she in that horrible brown hat and coat.
He strode toward her. Then broke into a jog. His hat bobbed and he whipped it off, tucked it under his arm. “Anna!”
She broke into a smile, beaming at him, her pace quickening, her lips tremulous with what? Cold? Fear? Delight?
He caught her to him. The thrilling feel of her, her curves to his form, her warmth to his welcome. His lips went to the corner of her eye, the point of her nose and hovered over her lips.
“You waited,” she breathed, her words laced with panic, her golden gaze flowing over him with triumph.
“I did. I had to hope.”
She cupped his jaw. “I apologize for being late. I could not get away.”
“But you came. How?”
“A hack. And then, I left him at the bridge and walked.”
Hugh enveloped her in his arms. “There is no one here to see you or me. It’s too damn cold.”
She chuckled, her arms wrapping around his waist as easily as if she belonged to him and he to her. She trained her eyes on his breastplate and ribbons. “But you wore a uniform.”
“I did. As you commanded.” He turned to one side and wove her arm through his. “Come, let me get you into a carriage.”
“Oh, no.” She hung back. “I cannot. Really, Kendal.”
“You’re frozen. So am I. And there beyond,” he said nodding toward Warren who stood with the hack door open, “is my coachman. I hired a vehicle. Did not bring my own.”
“You have crests on yours, I suppose,” she said, sounding tentative but walking briskly with him anyway.
“Yes, they all do. I would not chance discovery.”
“I do appreciate that.”
They stopped in front of the hack’s open door.
Hugh took both her gloved hands, her fingers cold as icicles. “Few seem to be in the Gardens. I’ll take you if wish. Or you can step into my conveyance, hired especially for this afternoon, and warm yourself with the bricks and the brandy I have tucked inside.”
Her eyes, alive with yearning, examined his. Still she hesitated. “I don’t want to walk.”
He understood her tentative tone, an objection to the privacy of his coach. “I would never hurt you. If you will do me the honor to climb up in there, we might have an hour or more of good conversation.”
“And brandy,” she added with a twinkle in her brilliant eyes.
“And bricks.”
“I want to.”
“Do.”
She swallowed, then smiled at Warren with a hint of apology.
Hugh told her, “You can sit in one corner and I in the opposite seat.”
Acceptance defined her exquisite features. “And here I had imagined us sitting side by side as we did at dinner last night.”
If he had envisioned himself as a cave man seizing her, enjoying her, it was nothing to the urge now to grasp her in his arms and take her lips, her heart, her mind and make them his. Reason, somehow, arrested him instead. “Sit wherever you like, my darling. I live to make you smile.”
She flowed up to him. Her gloved hands cupping his jaw, she rose on her toes and brushed her lips on his.
My god.
She undid him. All his noble intentions gone. His earnest statements that he would protect her from his baser urges now hollow. Still, he could not move, paralyzed with wanting more of her.
“You must climb in first,” she told him, an impish glimmer in her eyes. “The better to give me a choice.”
He grunted, incapable of words. Then he did as she bade him. Falling back against the far corner of the wooden bench, he shoved his shako to the floor. He watched her as she put one foot upon the block and let Warren take her hand to lead her up inside. And there before him, she met his gaze and waited as Warren shut the coach door. She seemed cast in bronze, unmoving, studying him. Then putting one knee to his bench, she leaned over him, descending to a breath away. “Kiss me, won’t you, Kendal? I’ve dreamed of no one but you for months.”
* * * * *
Rendezvous with a Duke
Amazon ARe NOOK KOBO iTunes Coming Soon!
* * * * *
Lady Varney’s Risque Business
Amazon ARe: NOOK: KOBO: iTunes Coming Soon!

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Find Cerise:
My website: http://cerisedeland.com
My blog: http://cerisedeland.blogspot.com
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Follow me on Twitter: @cerisedeland
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Guest blog: The Ingredients of Bliss

Welcome, Lisabet Sarai!

Inner and Outer Conflict
By Lisabet Sarai

No one ever taught me how to write a novel. Still, the very first one I wrote (Raw Silk, back in 1999) was accepted immediately by the publisher to whom I sent it (and has been reprinted to two publishers since). It’s not great literature, perhaps, but it has all the required features called out by texts on the writer’s craft: conflict, a plot arc, a climax, a resolution. The characters develop and change over the course of the book. There’s some nice symmetry from one chapter to the next. The ending leaves no serious loose ends.

I didn’t think about any of this while I was writing. However, I’ve been reading novels for as long as I can remember – lots and lots of novels. I assume that I’ve unconsciously absorbed quite a lot of knowledge about the typical structure of long fiction.

Since then, depending on your definitions, I’ve written seven or eight more novels – largely on instinct. I do make some conscious choices about novel structure, but to a large extent I’m going by what feels right.

Sometimes a critic will point out and praise stylistic or structural features after the fact. For instance, I had a reviewer comment on the Shakespearean allusions and parallels in Incognito. Aside from deliberately naming my heroine Miranda because her father was a Shakespearean scholar, I didn’t do any of that deliberately. However, I found the reviewer’s arguments persuasive.

The subconscious is a marvelous thing.

I was thinking about my latest novel The Ingredients of Bliss and realized it has a rather nice structural characteristic that I didn’t really plan. The book is simultaneously propelled by both an inner and an outer conflict. Although they are not directly related, the resolution of the outer conflict triggers or influences the inner conflict in a rather satisfying way.

The outer conflict is the heroine Emily’s quest to rescue her lovers Harry and Etienne from the clutches of a Chinese criminal gang. She hatches a multi-step plan that takes multiple chapters to execute. She encounters setbacks but pushes forward in her determination to save the two men.

The inner conflict revolves around Emily’s confusion about her feelings for Harry and Etienne. At the start of the book, she is sexually involved with both men, but is unsure about what role they might play in her future. Does she love Harry? Etienne? Both of them? Should she extricate herself from both relationships before someone gets hurt? The situation is complicated by the variability in her sexual role. Is she submissive? Dominant? Both? Neither?

As she perseveres in her efforts to resolve the outer conflict by freeing her lovers, answers to these questions become clear. I don’t want to tell you what she decides – I’d much rather have you read the book! However, I’m impressed by the way my subconscious managed to make it all work!

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The Ingredients of Bliss by Lisabet Sarai

PG-rated Excerpt

“Ahem!”

I swiveled back to face Harry, feeling guilty as a kid who’d filched a pork bun behind his mother’s back.

“What have you been up to, Emily? You’re blushing.”

For the ten millionth time, I cursed my pale skin. But then Harry could read me even in the dark.

“Nothing. Etienne and I were just…um…just talking.”

“About what?”

He didn’t touch me, but I felt the force of his implacable will. He crossed his arms over his chest—he was wearing a red polo shirt that was just tight enough to show off his delicious pecs—fixed me those espresso-brown eyes, and waited for me to succumb.

I stared into my empty cup. I really didn’t want to share the content of Etienne’s and my recent conversation. It seemed too intimate, too personal. On the other hand, I owed Harry at least the same honesty that I’d given to Etienne.

“Ah—well, we were talking about you. About you and me. And about Etienne’s…uh…needs.”

“Excellent! It sounds as though he’s becoming a bit more comfortable with the whole idea.”

I nodded. I found discussing the chef’s masochistic desires in the broad light of day to be deeply disconcerting, but most likely it was a healthy sign.

“And?”

“And he wants to come to my room, to ‘serve’ me. Tonight.”

“Perfect!” Harry rubbed his hands together like some cartoon villain. If he’d had a moustache, he’d have been twirling it. “Tell him he can come. No, order him to come.”

“But—what about us? You promised you’d come to my room tonight. Every time I look at the brass headboard on my bed, I get excited…”

“I’ll be there, love.”

I didn’t like that evil grin of his at all. Well, I did like it—perhaps too much, because I remembered the other times I’d seen it decorating his kissable mouth—but it definitely had me worried. “Harry? What are you planning? I don’t want this to blow up in our faces. We’re stuck here with Etienne for the next two-and-a-half weeks.”

He swung an arm around my shoulder and pulled me into a smoldering kiss. I forgot my concerns, at least for the duration. “Don’t you trust me by now, Emily? Nothing is going to blow up in our faces. We’re just going to take the next logical step in our relationship.”

Get your copy today!

The special VIP edition of The Ingredients of Bliss is now available from Totally Bound. This version contains a sizzling bonus chapter not available from other retailers. Totally Bound has the most advanced book selling site of any independent publisher on the web, with new One-Click ordering and direct delivery to all e-reader platforms.

Blog Tour Prizes

First prize: $30 gift certificate to Sur La Table (http://www.surlatable.com)
Second prize: $20 gift certificate to Whole Foods Market (http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com)
Third prize: Three-pack of ebooks from my back list, including a copy of Her Secret Ingredient, the prequel to The Ingredients of Bliss.

I’ll also be giving a PDF copy of my own original cookbook, Recipes from an International Kitchen, to everyone who leaves a comment. AND I have a bonus $10 Totally Bound gift certificate for the tour host who gets the most reader comments.

To enter, simply leave a comment that includes your email address. You can enter once for each spot in the tour. For the full tour schedule, go to:

http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2014/08/ingredients-of-bliss-blog-tour-starts.html

Website: http://www.lisabetsarai.com
Blog: http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com
Goodreads page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai
Amazon page: https://www.amazon.com/author/lisabetsarai

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Wanton Women at Work: The Complete Collection

The Wanton Women at Work are sexy, independent and they know what they desire from a man. They are not shy not ask for what they want and when they surrender they do so on their own terms. Fearlessly they dive right into any erotic adventure.

This steamy collection contains four stories about a secretary, a professor, a journalist and an artist’s model, and about the men who don’t stand a chance against them.

Wanton Women at Work 3D

Wanton Women at Work is now available at Amazon Kindle for only $ 0.99. Yes, that’s four sizzling short stories for the price of one!

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The Professor Wants Sex

It’s short, it’s hot and it does exactly what it says on the cover.

After having had a intellectually stimulating congress professor Margot Teere is ready for some physical pleasures. So when she meets Declan Birch, ten years her junior and all man, she knows what to do.

Teacher

 

Part two of the Wanton Women at Work series is now available at the different Amazon stores.

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The Three Rs by Ashe Barker tour

Today the talented Ashe Barker tells us why animals in a story tells us something about a character. And there’s a very nice price to win as well to celebrate her new title.

Creature Comforts

I’m always secretly pleased, when I start to read a new story, to find an animal. At least one. There’s something sort of wholesome, something reliable about a hero or heroine with a pet. Animals seem to me to be good judges of character. If his dog likes him, a guy can’t be bad. Cats are even more discerning. Cats don’t give their loyalty cheaply, it has to be earned. You have to deserve a cat.

Even when I don’t exactly plan it, I tend to weave animals into my stories. They just sort of sneak in there and snuggle up to my characters. It’s usually cats who creep under the radar – I have a theory that cats can walk through walls so why wouldn’t they manage to effortlessly inveigle themselves into my stories? But it’s a dog – the adorable Barney – who features most heavily in my Black Combe stories, The Dark Side and Sure Mastery. Even a pair of chickens have walk-on cameo parts.

Some of the most heart-rending moments in my books have concerned the loss of much-loved four-legged characters and the impact this has on the people who love them. I can certainly relate to that – I’ve wept buckets over a cat run over on the road close to my house, or an ancient dog I eventually had to take to the vet’s for the last time. The saddest loss I ever had, in the menagerie which is my home, was a tortoise. Tilly was acquired for a few pence from a pet shop when I was a child, before the practice of importing these creatures from Mediterranean areas was banned in the UK. Every child had one I think, but they usually didn’t survive that long. Tilly did though. She lived in our back garden, and when I grew up and left home I took her with me. She moved house twice, eventually ending up in my third of an acre on the edge of the Bronte moors. She would hibernate in the compost heap, disappearing by about November and re-emerging in March or April. She died a couple of years ago, by which time I’d had her for over forty years. I still miss her, even though I have two young tortoises who live indoors in a terrarium. It’s not the same somehow.

In my current release, The Three Rs, the hero, Cain Parrish inherits a cat, Oscar. Cain’s uncle died and left him his house, and Oscar was already in residence. Even though Cain is convinced Oscar hates him, he takes care of the old cat anyway. When Abigail arrives on the scene she sees straight through that bit of nonsense. Oscar follows Cain everywhere, even sleeps on the landing outside his room. He hisses when Cain tramples on him, but that only happens because the cat is never more than a foot away from his feet. Such feline devotion proves it – Cain Parrish is a Nice Guy.

His deft way with a spanking is just the icing on the cake. How could Abigail possibly resist? As their relationship deepens, and Abigail comes to appreciate exhilarating effect of a well-administered spanking, she begins to ponder other aspects of her life. Can she hold on to her dominant lover and business partner, maybe find a future with him, or will he dump her when he learns of the shameful secret she’s hidden all her life?
Why not join in The Three Rs release celebrations by trying your hand at winning a free copy, or other ebook of your choice, or even a Kindle Fire with a £30 gift voucher? Just enter the competition.

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And feel free to join us for the Facebook release party on 28 February, 9.30-11.30pm for prizes, giveaways, and lots of smutty book talk

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Here’s the blurb:
Perfect strangers don’t just leave you a share in their business. Do they? And even if they do, surely the rightful owner won’t just take it lying down…?
Abigail Fischer is about to find out. When a mysterious letter arrives informing her that she’s inherited a controlling interest in a thriving construction firm Abigail thinks it must be a mistake. Or a sick joke. Until she’s confronted by her new, very angry and very reluctant business partner. Handsome as sin but determined to be rid of her, Cain Parrish is everything Abigail desires – and most fears. Forced to uproot from her safe but dead-end job to help run the firm, Abigail is quickly drawn to her dominant partner. Attuned to her most secret desires, and able to meet them effortlessly, he quickly finds his way past her defences.

But Abigail is not what she seems. Astute in business and a skilled Dom, Cain can easily demand her submission, but can he find his way past Abigail’s carefully constructed façade to discover the shameful secret she’s managed to conceal all her life. And despite her growing enthusiasm for the new opportunities now facing her, Abigail can’t become something she’s not. Or can she? Is it possible to leave the past behind and start over?
When things start to go wrong in their business, and as Abigail’s blunders threaten to sink their small but up to now profitable enterprise, will their delicate personal relationship survive?
Will Cain forgive Abigail’s mistakes or is there a deeper significance to her apparent ineptitude?

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And here’s an excerpt from The Three Rs. This snippet is taken from the bonus chapter, only available when you buy the book direct from Totally Bound.

By the time we’ve returned to Berwick, and stopped off at the yard to pick up some timber which Cain apparently needs in Rothbury tomorrow, it’s after six o’clock and time to head for home. We let ourselves in, and Cain rustles up a lamb keema curry and rice. We eat it in front of the television, washed down with chilled cola. It’s delicious, spicy and sharp, and I wish I could manage to produce something half as tasty. If he ever starts to hold me to our arrangement that we should be sharing the cooking, we’re both in for some considerable disappointment. I say as much as I ram the last mouthful in.
He shakes his head sadly. “Oh I don’t know, I think you underestimate yourself. Cooking’s pretty straightforward. Just a matter of following the instructions on the packet usually.”
I wipe my mouth with a serviette, not buying that for one moment. As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing remotely straightforward about following written instructions on the side of anything. And in any case, even I can recognise fresh ingredients when I see them. Or taste them.
“No way that was from a packet. I saw the fresh mince on the worktop, and I watched you chopping onions.”
He shrugs. “Yes, but did you also spot the tinned tomatoes and curry paste?”
I reach for his plate. The least I can do is handle the washing up. “Tinned tomatoes don’t count. Everyone uses them, they’re the best.”
Cain grins again, shaking his head as he lets me take the crockery and load the dishwasher. He follows me into the kitchen. Our usual grey shadow, Oscar, is also there, supervising our activity from his normal seat. I tickle his ears as I pass to put the leftover rice in the fridge, and he purrs loudly.
“You’re making my guard cat soft.”
Cain’s murmured complaint falls on deaf ears as both Oscar and I are now firm friends. I crouch beside the huge cat to stroke his back. He arches and stretches under my hand, and appears to appreciate my attentions. I lean forward to whisper in his furry little pointed ear. “We’re not listening, are we? If he wants guarding, he can get a Rottweiler. Your job is just to keep an eye on things. And purr.”
“Is that right, Miss Fischer. So, that’s Oscar’s role in life settled. And what’s your job then?” Cain is leaning against the worktop, his stance deceptively casual. His tone is low, serious.
I sense the Dom emerging, and maybe something more. Is he on to me somehow? But how? What does he mean? I turn to him, wary, a little confused. That sounds like a loaded question. I try for levity. “My job? How about trainee co-owner? Head of marketing and graphic design?”
Cain shakes his head. “Those are just your day jobs, Miss Fischer. At night, you’re my slut. Agreed?”
Ah, interesting. And far safer than the territory I feared for a moment that we may be straying into. I stand slowly, and turn to meet his gaze. “Yes, agreed.” Probably.
He smiles, inclines his head. “So, Miss Fischer, time to resume your night-time duties then.”
He holds out his hand to me, and I take it without hesitation. Wordlessly, he leads me from the room. I follow him along the hallway and upstairs, to his bedroom. The bedroom I now share, indefinitely it seems.
“Undress, please.” Cain closes the door gently, and leans back against it to watch.
Tipping up my chin, I maintain eye contact as I slip open the buttons on my blouse. I let the light fabric slide down my arms and drop to the carpet, to be followed by my bra, then remain still for a few moments to allow him a good view of my breasts. The room is warm, but still I’m aware of my nipples hardening, puckering in the evening air. He says nothing, but his raised eyebrows signal to me it’s time to continue. Obligingly I unzip my jeans and peel them down my legs. I toe off my trainers, thankful that the laces are loose enough to let my feet slip out. My socks are peeled off with the denim. I straighten again, this time wearing only my knickers, conscious that they are brief and insubstantial enough to hardly count.
Cain seems to think so too, stepping forward to take my face between his palms.
“You truly are lovely, Miss Fischer. Who’d have thought the grumpy little mouse I first saw scurrying out of those school gates would unwrap to this? So tall, so confident.”
He might well have got me confused with someone else, but his tone was low and sexy—that voice that has made my toes curl right from the start. He leans in to brush his mouth over mine, holding my face still for his kiss. He trails his lips down my chin, nipping lightly with his teeth as he nibbles his way along my shoulder bone. He drops his hands to my hips, tugging me in closer, his erection nudging my stomach. My breasts are pressed against his chest as he nuzzles my neck, lifting my hair to reach my nape. I shiver, half in anticipation, half in ticklish response.
“Are you cold, Abbie?” His low murmur is as sensual as his touch.
I shake my head even as I shiver once more.
“Tense then? Anxious maybe? Scared?”
I consider all those possibilities, acknowledging at least to myself the truth of each one. He does make me tense, and anxious. Scared on occasions, though not of this. It’s not his sexual dominance making me afraid. I love that, and I trust Cain completely. I know I’m safe. My fears stem from the certainty that it’s only a matter of time before I’m exposed for the illiterate fraud I am. But not now, not yet. Not here. I sigh deeply as he moves his attention to my other shoulder, tilting my head to give him access. He trails his hands down my back to the light elastic holding up my briefs. He hooks his thumbs in and slowly tugs them down. I wrap my arms around his waist, wriggling my lower body to shake the briefs down my legs. I step out of them, now completely naked.
“Will you trust me, Abbie? Will you let me have my way this evening?”
I bury my nose in his shoulder, my hips gyrating of their own accord. Don’t I always let him have his way?
My non-verbal signals are not sufficient, it seems. “Abbie? Do I have your submission tonight? Totally?”

If you want to read on The Three Rs, complete with bonus chapter, is out now and available from Totally Bound
You can also pick it up from Amazon.co.uk Amazon.com Barnes and Noble All Romance Sony

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More about me:
Until 2010 I was a director of a regeneration company in Leeds, in the UK, before becoming convinced there must be more to life. I left to work as an independent consultant, and still do some of that though most of my time is now spent writing. At last I’ve been able to realise my dream of writing erotic romance myself. I’ve been an avid reader of fiction for many years, erotic and other genres, and I still love reading historical and contemporary romances – the hotter the better. But now I have a good excuse for my guilty pleasure – research.
In my own writing I usually draw on settings and anecdotes from my own experience to lend colour, detail and realism to my plots and characters. An incident here, a chance remark there, a bizarre event or quirky character, any of these can spark a story idea. But ultimately my tales of love, challenge, resilience and compassion are the conjurings of my own lurid and smutty imagination.
When not writing – which is not very often these days – my time is divided between my role as resident taxi driver for my teenage daughter, and caring for a menagerie of dogs, rabbits, tortoises. And most recently a very grumpy cockatiel. I’m a rural parish councillor, and I’m passionate about evolving rural traditions and values to suit twenty first century lifestyles.
I’ve completed my third trilogy in the Black Combe ‘family’ which is due for release later this year and I’m well on with writing the fourth. I have a novella coming out soon, a short story in Totally Bound’s Paramour collection, and another in the Jolly Rogered anthology which is due for publication in July 2014. I have a pile of story ideas still to work through, and keep thinking of new ones at the most unlikely moments, so you can expect to see a lot more sexy, sassy stuff from me.
Contact me:
I love to hear from readers and feedback is always welcome. You can find me on my blog, and on the Totally Bound site. I’m on Facebook, twitter and Pinterest, and on Goodreads too. And there’s also my author page on Amazon

Remember, here’s the competition link

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Alison Does Overtime now on sale

The first story in the Wanton Women at Work series is now available on Kindle.

If you want a short, tasty read about women who are more than capable to earn their own money and decide for themselves what they want in bed, then this is not to be missed.

AlisonDoesOvertime

Secretary Alison wants her boss, Marc Greenwald, and she isn’t one to wait passively until he makes up his mind. But as soon as she knocks on the door of his office, he has a big surprise all of his own.

Available at:

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guest Jorja Lovett

Please welcome Jorja Lovett, who shows us a little peek into her latest book.

The Wolf on the Run – Jorja Lovett
Short Blurb:
Alpha Rory is determined to protect his pack, including feisty Naomi. How can he get close when she’s intent on facing her demons alone?

Long Blurb:
As a police officer and Alpha of the Olcan Hills’ pack, being a protector is in Rory Blake’s DNA.
When Naomi Duffy turned up heavily pregnant and alone, Rory’s natural instinct was to look after her. However, her fierce need for independence over the years has ensured they’ve never been anything more than friends.
Naomi has spent too long trying to keep her daughter safe to jeopardise everything for a fling. But, when her past threatens to catch up with her, Rory is the only person she trusts with her life.
Thrown together, the couple finally succumb to their passion and it’s all too easy to forget the danger lurking in the hills.
Do Rory and Naomi have a future together, or will secrets from the past tear them apart?

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Excerpt:
Naomi came after Rory, pitting her stealthy grace against his sheer power. In his peripheral vision, he could see the wisps of her breath spiralling into the cold air as she forged ahead, determined to catch him. Rory snorted, sending his own white breath curling up into the atmosphere.
He led her over the hills, their claws making short work of carving up the cold, hard terrain. Naomi never lost ground. Even when he made a turn towards the woods on the boundary, she kept pace.
The chase awakened something deep inside him—that animal freedom with no responsibilities except the survival of himself and his pack. The spiky silhouettes of barren trees lined his path, like broad strokes of a black marker pen scratched against the silver sky.
He dodged in and out, never slowing, with Naomi always in pursuit. Occasionally, a pair of woodland eyes blinked at him from the darkness—a rabbit, a fox, observing their bizarre courtship.
Rory had no doubt the exhilaration of their illicit run would end in wild sex between him and Naomi. It was like a very enthusiastic bout of foreplay without actual touching.
They crunched through the leaf-littered forest floor until he tired of being the hunted. He looped back the way they came and stopped in a clearing. In all aspects of life he preferred to be the one doing the chasing, but at this moment in time he wanted nothing more than to be caught.
He shifted back into his naked, horny self. Naomi came to a skidding halt seconds later, scooting a bundle of leaves over his bare feet. “You can run, wolf lady, I’ll give you that. Now can we go back to bed?”
She shifted back to stand beautifully naked before him. “Not until you say it.”
“Say what?” He was hard as hell and ready for round two.
“That I’m as good as you.” She gave him a flirty smile. One which said she was looking forward to the future rather than staring back at the past. The run had obviously done wonders for her too.
“That was probably a fluke. I don’t think you could keep up with me on a normal day. You know, one where you haven’t seduced me on top of a car boot and made me carry you home first.” The play fighting wasn’t limited to their animal personas. Not when it proved such a turn on. Human or wolf, the scent of Naomi’s arousal would always draw him to her.
“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time. But, if you’re tired, just say and we’ll call it a night.” She shrugged her shoulders, making her boobs jiggle enough to bring his erection to full strength once more.
He stepped forward and brushed her wild hair from her face. “I’ll never be too tired for you, Naomi. I’ll race you back. This time the winner stays on top.”
She grinned, eyes twinkling as bright as the stars. “You’re on.”
This was one race he intended to lose.

Available from Total-E-Bound 4th October
On general release from 1st November

Author Bio:
Jorja Lovett is a British author with both Irish and Scottish roots, which makes for a very dry sense of humour. Writing since she was old enough to wield a pen, it wasn’t until she joined her crit group, UCW, that she pursued her passion seriously.
Now, with Joe Manganiello as her permanent muse, if she can leave the pause button on her Magic Mike dvd long enough, she hopes to spend the rest of her days writing steamy romances.

Author Links: Facebook, Twitter, Blog, Website

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pay 25% less only today

You want the same amount of reading pleasure but pay less? Today, the 4th of July

Total E-Bound does exactly that for (almost) all their e-books.

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Of course The Art of Pleasure is on sale too! Money, art and a woman who’s not afraid to speak her mind about what she does and doesn’t want.

 

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winner Cerise DeLand book

I bet you remember the delicious article about the erotic art of shibari. I know I do.

For some technical reason Cerise DeLand wasn’t able to react, but she hasn’t forgotten about the price she promised.

Mawmom you win a book of choice from Cerise DeLand’s backlog. She will mail you about it. Congratulations!

 

 

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SEAL on Fire: CONQUERING ZEUS gets hot and bothered!

I’m excited to once again welcome talented and all-out lovely fellow writer Cerise DeLand.

Getting in the party mood for a weekend away with his SEAL teammates is no easy deal for “Zeus” Calderon. He’s hung up on a woman he saved from terrorists months ago, but he should be able to forget a gutsy blonde reporter who showed resilience and humor under fire. Shouldn’t he?

Kim Stansfield got the instant hots for the hunky Navy SEAL who led her out of harm’s way—and she’s got proof Zeus feels the same about her. He’s stubborn, but she’s devised a plan to conquer him.

When she shows up in Key West and surprises him on the beach, Zeus learns that once in a lifetime a man meets a woman he can’t forget—and every day without her is no easy day.
BUY LINK: http://amzn.to/10DR2pF

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Excerpt, CONQUERING ZEUS by Cerise DeLand, 2012-3. All rights reserved.
Pissed at himself for leaving Coyote and Ghost at the rockin’ Friday night beach bar scene hours earlier at Sunset Pier, he pushed through his temper and used it as fuel. Of all the women in all the joints in the world, the blonde bombshell who doesn’t walk in there tonight is the one I want.
He pounded through the waves, spotting someone lean and female strolling the beach with a sizable dog.
They were harmless. He had jumped in naked. No matter. Whoever it was would be long gone by the time he hauled his bare ass up the sands toward the house.
He angled for the shore, fighting memories of doing a door-to-door in an Egyptian shantytown to find her. His team had landed the night before, marched hours over abandoned desert to the tribesmen’s village, then fanned out to search for her and her two fellow hostages. Amid machine gun fire, he discovered her in a tin-roof lean-to, weary and weak, dehydrated, blindingly beautiful and bravely smiling at him in her filthy rags.
“Keep your head down,” he had whispered, pushing her to sit beneath the edge of the window in the hovel where the Bedouin tribesman had tied her to the post of an old iron bed frame.
With a classic profile, Nordic and tall, Kim Stansfield, reporter and hostage, stared at him, sunburned and dazed from hunger and thirst. Despite her dire condition, she smiled, pointing at his face and the green and brown desert camouflage paint that disguised his features. “Are you wearing make-up?”
“What? You don’t like a man to wear foundation?” He fluttered his lashes at her, whipped an MRE drink from his vest and shoved it toward her. “Guzzle this.”
Grasping the pouch with shaking hands, she downed it while he sawed off her chains with his Spyderco blade. She coughed, choked, then hacked some of it back up.
“Cancel the guzzle. Sip it. Let me see how fit you are.” He ran his hands over her body, checking for sprains or injuries from beatings. God knew what these animals had done to a blonde Western woman who didn’t suit their ideals for dress or habits. After seven days of captivity, her body was still sleek, but limp from lack of nutrition. Outside, the rat-tat-tat of machine gun fire and bursts from his buddies’ Sig Sauers told him his team had run into her captors and it was his job to snatch her and run.
“I can’t go with you,” she rasped, wiping drops of the liquid from the corner of her mouth with the sleeve of her dirty linen abaya.
The hell you can’t. He shot her a look that spoke his thoughts. But hostages, especially women, needed assurances. He knew how to do that. Grandmothers, mother, sisters and cousins. He had gentled them all. The only man in a huge Tex-Mex family since his father had passed away when he was a baby, Jesus “Zeus” Calderon knew how to talk to women. “You’ll be fine. Do as I say.”
This female, he knew, tended not to follow anyone’s orders. Not her newspaper editor’s. Not the American government’s. He had studied her top-notch professional background and her tough-as-nails character, all as part of his team’s mission prep. She might look like a runway model, but she was an Amazon in spirit and truth. Though she hailed from preppy American and crusty British diplomatic stock, Kimberly Morran Stansfield was a dare devil, thirty-one-year old investigative journalist who spoke fluent Arabic and had used her excellent skills to file stories from Bengazi and Cairo during the Arab Spring. For more than three years in the Middle East, she had strolled through gunfire, air strikes and riots. Seven days ago, while working an angle on famine in Egypt after the overthrow of Mubarak, she had been abducted and held for ransom by a renegade tribe of Bedouin.
“You don’t understand,” she objected, clutching his shirt in one fist. “They expected you. Planned for you.” She coughed again and he fretted about how deeply the spasms wracked her. “They’ll kill my cameramen Johnson and Hassan if you take me. Said they’d torture them first.”
“No, they won’t.”
“But—“
“We’re getting your two guys. No worries. Then we’re putting down your captors.”
“How many are you?” she asked, the reverence in her voice a prayer.
“Enough.” He smiled at her then and it was as if the sun multiplied into a thousand more when she grinned back at him. “Drink all of that. Fast as you can. It’s got your meds in there.”
She had a chronic condition of high red platelets. That was the reason the SEALs had come for her and her two colleagues as quickly as they had. Delay by even two more days and she would have died. Besides, this particular group of Bedouins had shown their hand at violence last year when they had kidnapped a French female television commentator. That woman they had brutally tortured and killed. Without a cause, save their own enrichment, this nomadic group tried to ransom those whom they abducted. And they always abducted women.
“They’re cowards,” he told her as he checked her bare feet, concluding he would simply carry her with him. “And they’re dead meat.”
Laughing hoarsely, she put a hand to her temple and swayed in delight. “Woosy. Think I’ve had too much to drink. Can you do that? Take them all?”
“My only job is you.”
She had laughed then, giddy with the strength of the MRE. Drawing his face down to hers, she planted a big fat kiss on his cheek. “Color me grateful, SEAL of my heart. Your wish is my command.”
COME VISIT my website for more delicious tales: http://cerisedeland.com

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