My book RULE OF THREE, out February 14, from Samhain Publishing, is about a relationship between three people. As many of you may know *G* I enjoy writing ménage à trois stories. Two people falling in love is emotionally risky and complicated, but three people makes it even more so. I thought it might be interesting to show examples of how I used the “rule of three” not just as the story, but in the writing in the story, which at the same time allows me to share some little snippets from the book.

I consciously use the rule of three when I plan my books, because I use a three act structure in my plots. I’m not a big plotter, but I do figure out the three main turning points of the story. But I often use the rule of three in my writing without even consciously thinking of it. I’ve also learned some specific techniques using “three”, which are a great way to intensify emotion and build tension.

There’s a powerful rhythm to sets of three. Sometimes it’s a word, sometimes it’s a phrase, sometimes it’s clauses with similar structure. (And I just did it in that last sentence!) Sometimes it’s three adjectives used to describe something. Words and sentences have rhythm and cadence and beats, just like music, and using the “rule of three” creates a musical flow to writing.

So here are some small excerpts from RULE OF THREE to show what I’m talking about. I underlined the sets of three.

Christ. His chest ached, his dick was a fucking steel rod, his mind a jumble of mixed-up thoughts. He’d heard everything, every goddamn moan and pant and thrust. They might have thought they were being quiet, but you couldn’t fuck up against a door without making noise.

Another one:

Why had they done this crazy ménage thing? How could they have blindly thought they could just all have sex together without any of this happening? They must have been out of their minds. The enormity of it rose up inside her, terrible, unbearable, painful.

Here’s another example:

They moved to the music, a throbbing Latin drumbeat. Dag was a good dancer—of course—nothing flamboyant, but he knew how to move his body with an athletic grace. She let herself absorb the music,  let it move her body, never taking her eyes off his face. When the rhythm slowed and merged into a slower song, he slid his hands over her waist, hips, around almost onto her ass. His heat enveloped her, the scent of his sultry aftershave filled her head as she slid her arms over his shoulders. Their hips moved together to the beat of the music.

Another excerpt:

Four hands moved over her body, cupping her aching breasts, squeezing gently, rubbing her nipples. One mouth on hers, one on her neck, kissing, licking, sucking. They’d done this before. But this time was different.

The next passage contains a rhetorical device called “anaphora” – repeating a word or phrase at beginning of three (or four) successive phrases or sentences. Yes, I actually did repeat that “she wanted” a fourth time for good measure *G* :

It wasn’t because of her sister. She had nothing to prove to Hailey. Kassidy was her own person and comfortable with how she lived her life. But at that moment, she wanted to be the bad girl. She wanted excitement. She wanted that adrenaline rush that Dag got from taking risks, making dangerous business deals, jumping out of airplanes. And she wanted Dag.

Another rhetorical device, epistrophe, is the counterpart to anaphora. Epistrophe is repeating the last word or final phrase in three (or four) subsequent phrases or sentences in a row. I searched Rule of Three and couldn’t find a perfect example of where I’d used epistrophe, but I found a couple that are pretty close:

When people looked at her, they had no idea what kind of kinky sex life she was leading. That old lady with the thinning white hair and bright red lipstick smiling at her—no idea. The girl with the ring piercing the middle of her nose—eew—and thick black eyeliner looked at her and saw an ordinary mid-twenties woman dressed in boring shorts and T-shirt shopping for boring groceries—and had no idea.

And one more:

This couldn’t be happening. Dag’s head spun, his hands tightened on the other man. Chris. Chris. Oh god, it was Chris, kissing him, and fuck, it was heaven.

I hope when you read RULE OF THREE you aren’t aware of all the uses of “threes”, but rather that it all comes together to make the story enjoyable and satisfying!

 Some revealing questions for Kelly:

Beer or girly drink with an umbrella? — Definitely girly drink! (Eden/Eve: Kelly is definitely a girly girl-a girl after my own heart)

Vanilla or chocolate?—This may be a shock, but I LOVE vanilla!

Jeans or stilettos?  — BOTH. I love wearing jeans with stilettos. (Eden/Eve: we are birds of a feather!)

Quiet dinner in front of the fire or hot night on the town? — Oh tough choice. Probably quiet dinner.

Carried off into the sunset on the back of a galloping stallion or in the luxury of a racy corvette?—I like fast cars.

Tropical beach or mountain cabin?—Beach! With a girly umbrella drink and hot sun!

CONTEST! Now you know why I like writing ménage à trois romances, tell me why you like reading them (or not, if that’s the case!). Leave a comment and you’ll be entered to win an ARC of RULE OF THREE, which comes out Valentine’s Day, February 14. Remember to include your email addy! I’ll select the winner February 9.

RULE OF THREE is available for pre-orde at Samahin and B&N!

If you’d like to know more about me and my books, you can find me here:

Website  *  Twitter * Facebook * Goodreads

For anyone that doesn’t know me, I’m Portia Da Costa, and I think of myself as a sort of Old Grey Mare of erotic romance and erotica for women. I’ve been published as Portia since 1994 when my first Black Lace novel came out, but I’d been writing even before then, under various nefarious pseudonyms. Amazingly, I’m still writing, and February 2012 is pretty busy publication month for me, with some even busier months to follow.

Feb 6th sees my first novella for  Carina Press  published. This is a risqué BDSM jaunt called INTIMATE EXPOSURE, and it’s about Vicki Renard, a middle management exec with an insurance firm, whose life gets turned upside down by the arrival on the scene of Red Webster, a wickedly flirtatious and thrillingly dominant photographer. Red “exposes” Vicki to the sumptuous and playful world of her submission and his mastery, and though they start out agreeing to no strings fun and pleasure, they both pretty soon realize they want more than just a fling. Here’s the blurb:

From the moment Red Webster arrives at executive Vicki Renard’s firm, sparks fly between them. The photographer is supposed to create a company profile for its new owner, but he spends most of his time flirting with her. His sexy teasing infuriates Vicki…and piques a desire to submit to him. His hypnotic eyes promise what she’s been secretly craving: a sexually dominant master, like the ones in her favorite erotic novels.

Investigating his new business incognito, billionaire F.W. Shanley—aka Red—is turned on by Vicki’s fiery personality and undeniable beauty. When he discovers her reading a BDSM novel on her eReader, he knows he’s found a woman who shares his desires and promises to be a challenging submissive.

When Red arranges a weekend at a secluded and very exclusive luxury hotel, Vicki agrees to indulge in no-strings-attached erotic fun. But can she commit to this kind of life with Red when he realizes they can have so much more?

Intimate Exposure is available from Carina Press Store , Kindle US, Kindle UK, All Romance eBooks and Barnes and Noble Nook

A Gentlewoman’s Pleasure, also out in February is my latest historical mini novella from Spice Briefs. A GENTLEWOMAN’S PLEASURE is part of my “Ladies’ Sewing Circle” series, all about a group of unconventional Victorian gals who pretend to get together in order to do needlework and drink tea, but who really love nothing better than to tell each other tall tales about their love lives, real or imaginary. “Pleasure” features Lucy Dawson, a shy, bespectacled, bicycle riding spinster, who, like Vicki Renard, gets her life turned upside down by a hunky man. In this case, it’s a mysterious, but gorgeously capable woodsman, Ethan Oakley, who rescues her when she tumbles off her bike and knocks herself out. In his cozy, out of the way cottage, he administers a kind of sensual healing that Lucy has only ever dreamed of, and a wealth of carnal pleasure she quickly realizes she doesn’t ever want to give up. Here’s the blurb for this one:

London, 1890

Miss Lucy Dawson always thought she was dull compared to the other women in the Ladies’ Sewing Circle, who never hesitate to share stories of their naughty exploits and fantasies. As a plain, eccentric spinster with spectacles and a bicycle, Lucy hasn’t enjoyed a man’s touch for years—though she yearns to experience the full pleasure of lovemaking.

Then Lucy encounters Ethan Oakley, a tantalizing stranger who reawakens her desires. And the Ladies’ Sewing Circle will never believe what happens next….

Hot excerpt here!

A Gentlewoman’s Pleasure is available at  Barnes and Noble Nook,  eHarlequin,  Amazon US [1st March],  All Romance eBooks and Amazon.co.uk [1st March].

Had enough of me yet?

I’ve also got a new self-published title out this month, called IN SEBASTIAN’S HANDS. This is a trio of linked short stories, all about the same naughty couple, and showing the progression of their BDSM relationship. In the first story, “Life, the Universe and Sebastian”, Megan meets the gorgeous Sebastian at a fancy dress party, and immediately falls beneath his dominant and swooningly seductive spell. In “It’s Time” we discover that the party wasn’t just a one night stand, and the two are now a couple, and daringly exploring a world of kinky spanking pleasure. “The Roses in Your Cheeks” returns to Megan and Sebastian together on holiday. They’re happily married now, but still up to their wicked games and enjoying spicy BDSM high-jinks while out on a country walk.

In Sebastian’s Hands is available from  Amazon Kindle UK, Amazon Kindle US

Well, that’s all for February! I’ve got more titles to come in March and April, including A GENTLEWOMAN’S DALLIANCE, another “Ladies’ Sewing Circle” tale, and IN THE FLESH, the first full length Sewing Circle novel, published by HQN.

Keep checking out my blog, my twitters and my web site for the latest news. And in the meantime, I’ll do a giveaway. I have copies available of many of my Black Lace novels in paperback format, so I’ll offer one of my titles to not one but two commenters on this guest blog. Just let me know if you like the sound of my February offerings, or simply say ‘Hi!’ and I’ll put your name into the cyber hat.

Portia Da Costa is the best-selling author of over thirty novels and novellas of erotica, erotic romance and romantic fiction, as well as 100+ erotic short stories in magazines and anthologies. She’s most widely known for her sizzling titles for Virgin Black Lace and her frisky short erotica for Harlequin Spice Briefs, but she now also writes for HQN and Carina Press. She’s also written for many other publishers over the years, and under a variety of pen names. Her home is in the heart of West Yorkshire in the UK, where she lives with her husband and her adorable cat Alice. When she’s not writing or reading, Portia loves to watch the telly, and her favourites are Sherlock Holmes, Poirot and Marple.

Discover her  blog and her web site, and follow her on Twitter and Facebook. And don’t forget to check out her saucy selection of self published work.

EXCERPT FROM “INTIMATE EXPOSURE”

In which Red gives Vicki her very first spanking…

“Very well,” he said, stepping away from her, “I’d like you to take off your shorts and your panties. They’ll only get in the way from now on.”

For a moment, Vicki’s nerve faltered. For a moment it was as if she was shifting to and fro between the special fantasy world and the real world. Red’s hand returned to her shoulder, gave it a quick squeeze, and she was strong again.

Schooling herself not to fumble or get her ankles caught in them, she stepped out of her flimsy shorts and her even flimsier panties and kicked them both aside. As no instructions had been given about her socks and running shoes, she left them on.

This is crazy. What am I doing?

Again her nerve faltered and she tipped between the two worlds. Again, Red steadied her, a gentle hand against her cheek.

“Hold fast, Vicki.” His low voice imbued her with all the courage she needed.

A moment later he was touching her again, hands returning to her bottom. Her naked bottom. He wasn’t looking at her, neither her pussy nor the flesh he was handling. No, his perceptive eyes were locked all the time with hers, monitoring her reactions as his fingers gauged the firmness and resilience of her buttocks.

“You’re perfect,” he said again. “I knew you would be the moment I set eyes on you.” Inclining forward, he pressed his mouth to hers in the softest of kisses. With his lips against hers, she could feel his breath and the words when he spoke again. “I guess you know what a safe word is? You should have one, especially if this is your first time.”

Safe word? Yes, that was right. She should have one, but her mind wouldn’t seem to supply anything. “I can’t think of one.”

She expected him to laugh, but he didn’t. “That’s okay. Don’t worry. If you just say stop, I will. Or even if you just reach around and stay my hand.”

“Thank you.” She did feel safe. Despite everything, she did.

Red nodded. The boundaries were set. “Let’s begin, then, my sweet. I can’t wait any longer.”

Before she could take another breath, he had her by the hand as he sat down on the sturdy weight bench. For just a fraction of a second, he glanced at her exposed bush, his sensual mouth quirking ever so slightly. Then he was drawing her down, with a gentle but inexorable pressure, across his lap.

Vicki had long imagined what this would feel like. To be face down across a man’s knees, her bottom displayed for a spanking. She’d imagined fear, but somehow she didn’t feel it. She’d imagined embarrassment, and she did feel a little of that, but not in a bad way. Somehow there was a grace and a thrill to being presented and exposed like this.

“I can’t say it won’t hurt,” he said, his voice solemn yet weirdly benevolent, “because it will. Quite a bit. But you have to be brave and quiet and true, Vicki. Be a good girl and make both of us proud.”

He rested a palm on her left buttock for a moment, then lifted his hand and patted it down against her naked skin.

Pat. Pat. Pat.

I’m okay. I can cope. It can’t be much worse than this.

But as the moments and heartbeats ticked by, the pats increased in intensity, in purpose and in weight. Increased and increased until suddenly they weren’t pats anymore, and Vicki yelped in shock when the first real slap fell.

Oh God, it hurts! He’s right. It really, really hurts.

As if from a great distance she heard Red make a soothing, calming sound much like he would have made to a fretful child or a restive pet. But even as he gentled her, his hand fell again and again… and was not gentle.

Copyright © Portia Da Costa & Carina Press 2012

Sergio needs to make partner in the ad firm before he turns thirty, and his last chance is getting a huge new account with an underwear magnate. He’s focused all his time and energy on this presentation, until he meets a beautiful woman in the parking garage.

Liz is hugely successful in business, but not so successful in her relationships. She wants a man who finds her attractive for herself, not her money. She encounters an artistic and sexy man who takes control and that triggers a submissive reaction in her.

The attraction heightens, and Liz teases Sergio until he turns dominant. Once he discovers who she is, he plots his payback, controlling her body, her emotions, and her sexual pleasure. After a glorious night of sensational sex, the real control battle begins. Who will end up on top during the day, and during the night?

EXCERPT

No way he’d fail this time, Sergio thought as he pulled into the parking garage an hour early. After years of honing his competitive edge, he wouldn’t go soft again. He locked his burgundy Civic, flipped the keys into his pocket and slung his suit coat over a shoulder. With his other accounts sacrificed to his coworkers, nothing could distract him from nailing this presentation and finally making partner, just in time.

Heading to the elevator, he saw a profile in the dim light–the silhouette of her flirty dress, her Grecian nose, and her high cheek bones set against the harsh light behind her. Poetic.

She turned and caught him staring. “Did I forget to put on clothes?”

The amusement in her voice stirred him back into motion. As he neared, he saw long strawberry-blond hair and caught his breath. A gorgeous figure and a red-head too? Damn! “Sorry, didn’t mean to stare. I was just captivated by the classic lines of your face… and, uh, dress. It’s just–your silhouette was so lovely against the glare of that bulb.”

She smiled. “You’re an artist.”

He shrugged. “Well, a graphic artist.”

“An artist nonetheless.” Her tone suggested she was accustomed to being correct. “Art is art.”

“I’d like to make art with you.” Damn, he didn’t mean that. Well he meant it, just didn’t mean to say it. Something about her made him to want to strip her nude and pose her in a hundred classic poses. And take her in every one of them.

“Really?” She couldn’t contain her wickedly sexy smile. “Let me guess, you paint nudes?”

Damn, was he that obvious? She watched him in anticipation. Was she flirting with him?

“No, I don’t paint nudes.” A flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “But now that you’ve suggested it, I think it’s a great idea. When are you available?”

An eyebrow raised, then her mouth tightened. “I’m a very busy woman. I’ll have to check my schedule.”

Busy how? A gorgeous woman like that, how many men did she have in her life? Brushing aside that unsettling thought, he forged ahead. He’d never met a woman who intrigued him like this, and he wasn’t gonna let her run away. “We’re all busy. Let me know when you have an opening and I’ll clear my schedule to fit you in.” After he’d said it he noticed the double entendre.

She must have gotten it, because she looked away. “It might be a while till I can find the time.”

So she wanted to play coy. That’s all right, he was determined, he’d persist till she gave in. He approached her, instinctively summoning his most authoritative voice.

“Make the time.”

Her eyes widened for a split second before hardening into slits. “Oh, do you think I do anything that a man tells me to do?”

Her scathing tone was meant to put him in his place. Instead it made him bolder. He stepped closer–too close–and that felt good. “No, of course not.” He moved again. An inch from her breasts. The electrical charge from invading her space zinged through his body. “Just anything I tell you to do.”

Her mouth fell open and her eyes got steamy. It felt as though that electrical charge from his body had surrounded her and drawn her in. She was his.

The elevator doors rumbled open behind her. As she stumbled back, he stepped forward and held them for her. She nodded her thanks, and turned. The soft turquoise fabric draped like silk over her curvy hips as she passed him, and he wanted to slide his hand along those curves. As she tapped the button, he darted a quick glance at her fingers–no ring. This was his lucky day.

She fled to the far corner, almost against the wall. He envisioned himself pressing her against that wall, lifting her skirt and taking her right here in the elevator. His cock was flooded and hard, ready to take control. He shook his head slightly, trying to get blood flow back to his brain. Think. Gotta do something. Appropriate.

Beer or Girly drink with an umbrella? Girly drink with a wild name (especially with Crème de Menthe or Midori)

Vanilla or chocolate? Chocolate. Or Vanilla with Chocolate sauce. Or Vanilla with Strawberries. I’m just not a plain vanilla.

Hugs or Kisses? What about licks? And nibbles?

Boxers, briefs or commando? That’s a hard one. May I see all the options again?

Steak or sushi? Sushi (but I always like a taste of his Teriyaki Beef…)

Jeans or stilettos? Stilettos go with everything. Or nothing at all.

Quiet dinner in front of the fire or hot night on the town? How about dinner on the town, then a hot night in front of the fire?

Tropical beach or mountain cabin? I have a mountain cabin, so a Tropical Beach makes a better fantasy

Elegant fop or rough-edged rogue? Elegant man in public, wild rogue in private

Cop or Fireman? Can’t decide—a fireman sounds hot, but a cop has handcuffs…

Do you check out Abs or Ass? Ass

Rough and ready Cowboy or Corporate big-wig in a sharp suit? A shirtless construction worker with a nice set of tools (Yes, I’m not very good at following the rules!)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Chellesie B. Dancer enjoys writing contemporary, historical, and erotic love stories with a sprinkling of comedy. The women in her books dare to ask for their desires, so they truly will be satisfied ever after. Chellesie lives on top of a hill overlooking the smog of sunny Southern California. Other than writing, she entertains at parties as an M.C., a paleontologist’s assistant, and occasionally a dancing gorilla. She’s the mother of three beautiful boys and an assortment of other critters. Luckily her husband cooks!

Her motto: Be careful what you wish for… you just might get it!

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006RW91Q4/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_dp_jbqapb0C2DMGC

Barnes & Noble: http://click.linksynergy.com/fs-bin/click?id=DfQdldsfxvU&subid=&offerid=239662.1&type=10&tmpid=8433&RD_PARM1=http%253A%252F%252Fwww.barnesandnoble.com%252Fw%252Fpower-play-chellesie-b-dancer%252F1108113047

Chellesie’s Links:

Web site: www.ChellesieBDancer.com

www.facebook.com/chellesieb

http://twitter.com/chellesieb

Blog: www.GetLoveHelp.com

Smutketeers Contest:

What’s the sexist Valentine’s Day treat you’d like to get? Comment her to enter, winner will be selected on January 31st.

Winner will receive a Naughty Nights kit: 4 Red Silky Restraints, a 7″ bar of Godiva Milk Chocolate (in this case, size matters!) and a Do Not Disturb sign, with sexy suggestions on the back!

Because You Love Me

Because You Love Me

Safety in numbers? Depends on what you mean by safe…

Bridget Wilder’s life is shot to hell—literally—when she witnesses the murder of her best friend, Lyle. Protective custody? What a joke. Time after time, someone has leaked her whereabouts, forcing her to run from one safe house to the next.

Tired of cold, lonely beds and living in fear, Bridget convinces her guardian cop she’s safer off the grid, following Lyle’s trail of clues to a missing flash drive that could put the killer behind bars.

It doesn’t take twins Mark and Matt James long to figure out two things. Bridget’s not only in trouble, she is trouble—they both want her. When things get a little hot and heavy one night, though, they’re stunned to discover that they don’t mind sharing. And she loves being shared.

Between the James brothers’ hot, hard bodies, Bridget finally feels safe—and loved. When a hit man tracks her down, the last thing she wants is for them to place those bodies between her and danger. But those cowboys have other ideas. Like keeping her alive long enough to convince her she belongs with them. Forever.

Warning: Scary times ahead! An evil judge, a car chase, a hit man and more! Luckily, the rough times are soothed by lots and lots of ménage sex with two, red-hot alpha cowboys.

Excerpt from Because You Love Me

Walking into the hallway, she locked the door to her room and descended the wide staircase. Glancing in several of the B&B’s common rooms for Todd or Steven, the hotel proprietors, Bridget took a few minutes to study the beautifully restored old home. When they’d arrived yesterday afternoon, Rodney had hustled her to their room immediately, sequestering her there while he checked out the property and secured food for their dinner. It felt good to be free.

She was about to cross the foyer to check the other side of the house when the front door opened. Her new habit of hide first, ask questions later emerged and she panicked, trying to dodge back the way she’d come. In her haste to escape, her foot caught on the edge of the Oriental rug, and she took a hard tumble.

Four boot-covered feet appeared before her. She felt strong hands on either side reaching down to help her up.

“Sorry,” she said, keeping her head down. It was foolish to think anyone in this small, middle-of-nowhere town would know who she was, but Rodney had taught her well in the art of making herself as invisible as possible. She fought to suppress her trembling hands. Her heart was racing a mile a minute. God, why did she have to be frightened of her own shadow? She hated living like this, feeling this way.

“You okay, miss?”

All of Rodney’s tutoring went out the window as her nipples pebbled and a slight shiver of arousal wove its way through her body. She lifted her face to see the owner of that deep, sexy-as-hell voice. Identical faces etched with concern greeted her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound emerged. Standing before her were twin Greek gods, kings of the western frontier, complete with rugged, dimpled cheeks, blue eyes that—honest to God—twinkled, and shaggy, made-for-running-her-fingers-through dark brown hair only partially concealed by cowboy hats.

If she’d lived a hundred years ago, she would have felt compelled to fucking swoon. Instead, her twenty-first-century sensibilities took over and she simply muttered, “Holy double wow.”

Both men grinned widely at her ridiculous comment. “I take it that means you’re not hurt, darlin’.”

Her pussy clenched at his term of endearment. Could there be anything hotter than a gorgeous cowboy calling her darlin’ with that slight country twang? Briefly she imagined him—hell, who was she fooling, them—whispering it to her while they lay together naked in bed.

She cleared her throat and forced herself to stop staring—and drooling—like a love-struck teenage girl. “I’m fine. Clumsy and embarrassed, but otherwise unscathed.”

The hot cowboy on her left chuckled. “Unscathed, huh? Pretty talk. Where are you from?”

“New York,” she confided before her brain engaged to scream a warning. Jesus. Rodney should have locked her in the room. She was going to blow their cover in under thirty seconds, and all because of a couple good-looking men. Stupidity due to horniness was not something her cop friend would forgive easily.

“City girl,” the other cowboy said, though his tone indicated interest more than disdain.

She nodded, determined to keep her mouth shut before any more little tidbits—like the fact she was hiding out from a corrupt judge—fell from her desperate-to-taste-the-cowboys lips.

“I take it you’re one of the guests staying here?” her hot cowboy number one asked.

She paused, decided the question was harmless and nodded once more.

“So what brings a city girl to our neck of the woods?” This question was posed by hot cowboy number two.

She and Rodney had sketched out a rough explanation for their visit with the intention of refining it this morning. Now, it appeared she would have to fly by the seat of her pants. “I’m here with my half-brother.” Shit, five words in and she was already straying from the script. She and Rodney had agreed to pose as a couple, but for some reason, she didn’t want these two men to think she was in a relationship.

That thought led to a major internal eye-roll.

Right, Bridget, like you have so much time to try to hook up with a cowboy—or two.

“Vacation or business?”

“Vacation,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to try my hand at being a cowgirl.” Where the fuck had that come from? She’d never considered such a thing in her life until laying eyes on these two Wonders of the Western World.

“Well, now. If you need some help with that, Matt and I are pretty good teachers.”

Matt. Cowboy number one had a name.

“You teach a lot of cowgirls the ropes, do you?” she asked with a lilt in her voice. Christ, could her flirting be any more obvious? Why not post a sign on her forehead that said, Hasn’t been laid in a year.

Matt’s smile grew, his dimples deepening. A girl could fall into those bottomless caverns on his chiseled face and never be found again. She could think of worse places to get lost. “My brothers and I own the ranch next door. We train horses, give riding lessons. Stuff like that. We’d be more than happy to help you give that cowgirl lifestyle a whirl if you’re interested. We’ll even supply the rope if that’s what you fancy.”

Because You Love Me is available at Samhain, Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Sony.

Fun questions!
Beer or girly drink with an umbrella? Beer all the way. See my excitement about the beer in a can historical fact above.
Vanilla or chocolate? Chocolate. No contest.
Boxers, briefs or commando? Commando. I haven’t worn underwear in a decade. Oh wait…you meant on men, right? Same answer.
Steak or sushi? Steak. I like my meat hot.
Elegant fop or rough-edged rogue? Um hello, rogue! Has anyone ever chosen the fop???
Vampire or werewolf? Vampire—Team Edward all the way!
Soft, sensual make out session or throw you up against the wall? Up. Against. The. Wall. Oh, and harder please.
Summer or winter? Summer—I’m a teacher. Oh wait, winter—snow days. I want both.
City girl or country girl? Country! Their music is a helluva lot easier to dance to! Cotton-eyed Joe anyone?
Dog person or cat person? Um…neither. Can I just be a people person?
Cinderella or Snow White? Mulan! That chick kicks ass. Saved Prince Charming AND China. Just sayin’.
Las Vegas luxury hotel or quaint Wine Country Inn vacation? Wine? Did you say wine? Yes, please. Don’t bother dirtying a glass. I’ll just have the bottle.

Now, how about a contest? It’s a simple one. Because You Love Me is part of a series. Check out Mari’s books on her website, then come back here and leave a comment on which series you’d most like to read. Two commenters will win book one in the series of their choice!

Did that title get your attention? Thought so, LOL! Thanks so much for letting me guest blog, Smutketeers! I’m Jenna Ives and I write contemporary erotic romance and BDSM novellas. I love novellas, because with so much technology at hand these days (texting, tweeting, e-readers, smart phones, video game players, etc) it seems everyone is developing a shorter attention span. And novellas are the perfect way to satisfy a romance reader’s appetite for sexy stories without having to make a long-term time commitment!</p>

My new novella, Snow White And Her Seven Lovers, was inspired by both Kristen Stewart/Charlize Theron’s upcoming movie “Snow White And The Huntsman” as well as Lily Collins/Julia Roberts’ spring release of “Mirror, Mirror.” It looks like 2012 is definitely the year of Snow White!

What’s a girl to do when she wakes up poisoned in a hospital ER and finds that she’s lost her memory, her family, and very nearly her life?
That was me. Three months ago. With no identity, no money, and nowhere to go on the day I was discharged from the hospital, I gratefully accepted my gorgeous ER doctor’s offer to move in with him and his equally gorgeous six friends – the ones who’d found me unconscious in an apple orchard. My plan was to stay only until my memory returned, and I could figure out who I was and if someone really had tried to kill me.
Together with Doc, these were an amazingly diverse bunch of guys, but there was something about each one of them that attracted me powerfully enough to want to explore it. The policeman with his clever handcuffs. The cunningly linguistic librarian. The disciplinarian teacher. The virgin computer whiz who loved to play sex games. The engineer who created shotgun orgasms. The wildly imaginative baker.
Becoming intimate with these seven men completed me in ways I suspected discovering my name never would. That is, until the fateful day a man showed up claiming to be my fiancé…

Oooh… this story has conflict and lots of steamy sex scenes! Not only are there handcuffs, there’s also spanking, vibrators, bondage, ménage, role play, dirty talk, a strip search, a naughty little feather tickler, a sex slave and even a Prince Not-So-Charming! An erotic fairy tale, to be sure. But by far, my most favorite part of writing this story was coming up with jobs that realistically lent themselves to the seven male heroes – Doc is the obvious one (he’s the ER doctor who saves our heroine’s life) but if you read this story, I’d love to hear from you about my choices for the six friends’ occupations. : ) Grumpy? Dopey? Sleepy? Sneezy? Happy? Bashful? Can you match up the men to the jobs in my blurb above?

Snow White And Her Seven Lovers is available through Amazon , Barnes & Noble , at Smashwords, or at my website, www.jennaives.com, but I’m giving away TWO copies today (in any e-format). And for you BDSM fans, I also have a link to The Initiation Of Isabella. You’ll be hot to join Bella’s sorority when you’re done reading that one!

A little about me:

Beer or Girly drink with an umbrella? Girly drink, especially anything with champagne in it.
Vanilla or chocolate? Hmm, how about a swirl? (Spoken like a true erotica author, no? I want them both.)
Boxers, briefs or commando? Boxer briefs!
Quiet dinner in front of the fire or hot night on the town? The fire. Good place to get all hot and sweaty, if you know what I mean!
Carried off into the sunset on the back of a galloping stallion or in the luxury of a racy corvette? Definitely the stallion. There’s just something primal about a man on a horse…
Elegant fop or rough-edged rogue? The rogue. Love me them bad boys.
Tropical beach or mountain cabin? The beach! I love Southern California.
Cop or Fireman? Cop. Didn’t you read about the handcuffs in my blurb??
Vampire or werewolf? Vampire. I’m totally Team Edward.

So now that you know a little about me, tell me something about yourself… Which classic fairy tale is your personal favorite?? And how would you spice it up? The two most creative answers will win a free e-copy of Snow White And Her Seven Lovers on Monday!

How did this happen? When did we get here? Last I looked I was prepping for Christmas.

The kids have gone back to school, and those boring things we called jobs have started again. The holiday is over and a new year awaits us; hopefully, all those 2011 hangovers are far behind you and you’re looking forward to all that 2012 promises. If not, you can always turn to a spot of smutty reading to lighten the mood and brighten the spirits. My to-read list for the new year is already toppling over, and we’re not even into the first week yet. But isn’t that just the best way to have it? Lots of romances to look forward to, and hero’s to drool over. Best of all, a whole lot of delicious smut to indulge in.

So here’s to 2012 and all the smut it may bring us.

Oh, and if sexy vamps, dark, spooky Scottish castles, and a spot of light BDSM is up your smutty alley, then get a load of this to get a rocking start to your year…

Dracula’s Kiss

Cathela’s Office Halloween Ball is a complete bust. She spills out of her Dracula’s Bride costume, and her vamp fetish chases away her boyfriend. Only redeeming feature to the night? Necking multiple shots of Dracula’s Kiss–a lush Black Cherry Vodka cocktail–and an interlude with a gorgeous man dressed Gary Oldman style.

No one comes close to satisfying Alec Murray’s needs until he meets Cathela during some lame-ass party for bankers. One taste of her blood, sweet yet darkly dangerous, he knows she’s perfect for him.

A night of goth bondage is planned for one. For the other, a night of sexual control is a must. A perfect fit. Alec is compelled to reveal his true nature but can their relationship survive his dark secret?

“JoAnne Kenrick writes with passion and excitement. She brings her characters to life through lavish attention to emotions and character. – Talina on Dracula’s Kiss, a Night Owl Reviews TOP PICK

Excerpt

Before he knew it, he had no control over his hunger and he fed from her sweet taste of copper and licorice. Thick particles of Cathela dripped down his throat, filing his body with her sensual desires and nutrients. His cock, already sprung for action, told him to fuck this woman senseless. It’d been so long since his feeding had turned into sexual pleasure.

He ripped her dress the rest of the way down the front and knelt to kiss her on her flat stomach. He loved the way his lips bounced off her smooth skin, and the scent of her arousal wafted toward him, begging him to keep at it. He paused, concerned he might be overwhelming her. “Is this okay?”

“No…yes.”

Her comment made him chuckle. He ripped her panties off with a force he knew she’d enjoy. What a sight.She’d gone Brazilian on him. He dove straight to her swollen lips and licked her up. The murmuring sounds of pleasure she made edged him to keep going. He’d almost forgotten the taste of a woman and pushed further into her sex, moving his face side to side while his tongue pleasured her clit and his chin dug into her entrance.

She gripped his shoulders, her long nails sinking into his skin, and she cried out for more. Seconds later, her pussy clenched and she creamed in his mouth. He lapped at her, savoring everything she had given him, then licked his lips.

In his hurry to please, he had forgotten one major thing. He hadn’t blindfold her yet. Panic settled in. He had to think of something. His sight keener and his senses sharpened, he knew he had turned.

JoAnne’s books are available to purchase is most all eBook retailers including: Kindle | Nook | ARe | Bookstrand

Find out more about JoAnne Kenrick

www.joannekenrick.com

Twitter: @joannekenrick

Contest:

Have I got a prize that could really rock you into 2012! A Rockstar. A vibrating, hit the right spot BOB of a rockstar. I’ll throw in some toy cleaner wipes to make your playtime safe, and a little extra surprise freebie.

Prize Details:

Prize is a choice between: Rock Star Joni or Rock Star Patti. If either vibes are out of stock at time of prize win, the winner may choice a vibe around the same value. As the prize is being sent via Eden Fantasys, this means the contest is for USA residents only.

How to be in with a chance of winning the BOB of your dreams: Just hit this blog post up with a comment about what you’re looking forward in 2012.

Let’s get started, shall we…

Naughty and Thankful

1. Belts, floggers, and bare-handed spankings, oh my!

2. Hitachi wands, if you don’t have one, you are so missing out!

3. Kindles and Nooks for the naughty, dirty, erotic books!

4. Southern drawls, Southern men, and Cowboys.

5. Pretty ropes in pretty colors. I currently have green and purple. What colors do you have?

6. Eden Bradley ;)

7. Hair pulling, ball gags, and vibrating anal beads.

8. Tumblr porn.

9. Melting ice and melting wax.

10. Male/Male erotic romance.

11. Naughty readers who love everything…naughtier.

Now, what naughty things are you thankful for?

~

I promised you an excerpt from TWISTED UP and so, here it is…

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Can’t,” she mumbled around the digit she was nibbling on.

“Why?” He didn’t mind. He liked that she found him sexy, that she liked looking at him because he damn sure liked looking at her. Curves and valleys and strength and those green eyes that had haunted his dreams for months and that often had him waking up with his dick in his hand, stroking come up through the shaft.

“Don’t know really. You’re just… I can’t stop.”

“Well, try.” Sternness with her was always going to be a problem. He might like to think he could be stern and firm with her, but he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone, especially himself. She had him and his cock wrapped around her pretty little fingers. He could give it the old college try though. “Dirty as I am, I’m not aimin’ to roll around in the mud with you. So, wipe that look off your face.”

She raked him one more time with her gaze, starting at his feet and slowly moving up his legs, stopping at the juncture of his thighs. The longer she stared, the harder he got. He was going to find himself rolling around in the mud with her if she didn’t knock off that lusting perusal.

“Ella, I said cut it out. I ain’t a piece of meat.” He tried for affronted, offended, something to get her to look up in his face instead of at the tented denim. He didn’t pull it off.

She smiled slow and sure. “Yeah, you are.”

Justin laughed. Okay, he was. And he’d gladly be her hunk of Grade A Prime any day because he loved that she was feeling good and open enough, safe enough to ogle him. He’d always thought if he could just get her alone for a while, just get her out of her element, she would blossom. He’d also thought if he got her alone, she’d wear his ass out with sex long before she was ready to stop.

He was good with that. But right now, he was hungry and tired of being in the sun. He wanted a shower, clean clothes, food…then Ella on her knees. Or maybe he wanted a shower, Ella on her knees, clean clothes and food. Then again, he could just want Ella on her knees, followed by both of them in the shower, both of them naked after, sharing that picnic she’d brought outside.

Swirling the rest of the water in the thermos, he grit his teeth against what he was about to do. She wasn’t paying attention. Her stare kept traveling between his abs and his cock. She never saw him unscrew the top and drop it on the ground. She never saw him lift the jug and hold the bottom in his palm. She never saw it coming at all until the water hit her, soaking her face, her hair, and the T-shirt she wore.

She sputtered, and he laughed.

“Wha—Justin…”

“I told you to stop that.”

She wiped water from her face and he helped by slicking her hair back, just as he had his own. “I can’t help it if you’re so good looking. Go get ugly or something and I won’t gawk.”

He pressed a kiss to her soaking wet head and turned her so they could walk back to the house with his arm around her. He even tried to keep from looking down at her nipples, which were trying to poke holes in the shirt she wore. Obviously, he wasn’t successful. “I don’t want to get ugly. I like you gawking at me, but I have other plans for us for today that don’t include a mud bath.”

“What other plans?”

“Well, a shower, food…and…other things you’ll just have to wait and find out about.”

“But I don’t want to wait.”

Her pout was beautiful. “Tough, baby. You made me wait for months. You can wait a couple of hours.”

“Mean, cowboy. You’re just plain mean.”

“I’m anything but mean. I’m cruel. I’m teasing. I’m dirty and I’m kinky. I’m even playful, loving. I can definitely be a hard ass, but I am never mean.” Each word had been punctuated with him backing her up step by step until she was pressed against the kitchen door.

Her eyes grew wide, and she licked her full, pretty lips. Justin lowered his head, thought to kiss her, breathe her in. He watched as the pulse in her neck kicked up speed. Her eyes started to get heavy with arousal, dilated as he kept her hanging as to what his intentions were. Up until that moment, he hadn’t known, but now with her desire for his kiss increasing, he knew exactly what he was going to do.

He leaned in a little closer, his lips right there, just about to touch hers and she reached for it, tilted her head up a scant inch for it…

Justin lifted his head and took a measured half step back. “I have plans for you, baby, but first I have plans to take a shower and get this grime off my body.”

Ella just stared up at him, disbelief written all over her face. It took her a couple of minutes, maybe less to compose herself, but then she drew herself up and away from the door, stepped toward him and poked him in the chest. “Mean.”

She stomped around him and down into the dusty yard, and then proceeded to stomp her way, as best she could in her little sandals, to where he’d dropped the thermos and lid. She bent, snatched them up, and all the while, muttered to herself. He couldn’t hear it, didn’t want to, but she was the most adorable woman when she was riled up. He liked her. Damn, he liked her so much it hurt his gut sometimes.

“You should think about getting out of that wet shirt. Don’t want you to catch cold,” he offered when she stomped back up on to the porch.

“I don’t have another shirt. I wasn’t packed for this kind of thing. I wasn’t packed to spend a few days on a ranch. I was packed to spend a few days in New Orleans before the beginning of my training class.”

“I could loan you another shirt or….”

She walked into his house just like she owned it. God, he loved that. He wanted to share it with her, share ownership with her. Hell, he just wanted to fucking own her. Every smile, every tear, every laugh, every pain, every orgasm. Everything about her he wanted to own and possess and devour. He’d never considered himself of caveman quality, of woman-mine mentality, but she brought out that side of him and he was hard pressed to argue against it.

Oh he was a kinky cuss and would share her in sex play if they both wanted it, but there’d be no one spending the night and Ella would always come home with him to sleep in their bed. With him.

“Or?”

He followed her inside but didn’t bother to close the door behind him. Despite the heat outside, it was a gorgeous day and there was a light breeze. He stopped in his tracks and looked down at the dirt he’d brought in. Damn. The woman would make him forget his own name if he wasn’t careful.

He backtracked and shucked his boots outside on the porch by the door and walked back in. She was standing by the sink with her arms crossed over her wet chest. Those nipples were still poking at the front of his shirt. His mouth watered to take one in his mouth and suckle until she was writhing enough that he could put her up on the coun—

“Stop that.”

He looked up to find her wagging a finger at him. He bit back a smile and nodded. “Right. I’m going for a shower and you…yeah, you’re coming with me.”

He snagged her hand and pulled her along behind. “You never answered the or, Justin.”

Or? Or, or, or? Oh. “Well, I believe getting you in the shower with me is answering it.”

She stopped walking, forcing him to stop to. Her lips were pursed, her eyes narrowed. “Maybe I don’t want to get into the shower with you.”

“Liar.”

She flushed after a second or two. “Ass.”

He grinned. “Yep.”

He tugged lightly and she pouted but followed. Yeah, life with her would be a treat. Now all he had to do was convince her to give it a try with him, but first, he needed to get her all hot and bothered and slippery wet between her thighs, that’s when all her defenses were down, when she was open and giving. He wanted her on the edge, on that precipice where anything was possible, where she’d agree to anything if he’d just hold her right there, if he’d just keep her right there where her body quivered and all she could see and feel was pleasure.

He wasn’t above manipulation to get her to see him, to need him. But he’d never trick her. It was all her choice, all her decision. He just wanted a fair shake, a fair try.

“Justin?”

He stopped halfway up the steps and turned around. She had that dreamy, lusty look in her eyes again. She’d been staring at his ass. “Naughty girl.”

She nodded. “Can you take your jeans off?”

“What? Here?” He tried for affronted, again, but knew he failed.

She nodded again. “Uh-huh.”

He let go a pretty good but fake annoyed sigh, which didn’t faze her a bit, and made a big show of snapping buttons from their holes along his fly. Her green eyes darkened, and she licked her full bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.

~

You can pre-order TWISTED UP from Amazon.com, BarnesandNoble.com.

Remember I’m doing a giveaway as well! A $25 gift card to Amazon.com, a $25 gift certificate to Barnes and Noble, and two ARC’s of TWISTED UP!

I’ll pick winners from the comments so please remember to comment! Answer my What are you thankful questions. Easy peasy.

I have completely enjoyed being here. I can’t thank Eden and indeed all the Smutketeers for having me. I am completely thrilled by them.

If you’d like to know more about me and my writing and my coffee addiction you can find me in the following places: Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook

Take care and have a wonderful holiday!

~lissa

*****

Eden/Eve: Lissa, we are so thankful to have you here with us, helping our readers-and us-to celebrate the holidays! *big wet smooches*

For those who do not know me, my name is Lissa Matthews. I write contemporary erotic romance, contemporary erotica, and a little contemporary male/male…all with an edge of kink play and sometimes with a little Dominance/submission. I write for several epubs including Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave and Loose Id. Most recently I’ve waded into the self publishing pool.

For my posts, I decided that in the spirit of the season and since this is the week of Thanksgiving here in the US, that I would blog about things I am thankful for. Because I will be here for two days, I have two lists, each with eleven things.

Today will be the Nice and Thankful list…

1. Family, most specifically, my half-brother Troy for coming into my life after 32 years apart. We coudn’t be more alike and connected than had we been born twins. We will be spending Thanksgiving together later this week, the first for him with a sibling. I am beside myself with nervous excitement.

2. Friends, I have made some awesome ones this year. I have lost a few this year as well. Friends are special and precious and I hope that my friends know how much I love and appreciate them.

3. Health, mine is relatively good and I’ve lost too many people in the last years to cancers and other illnesses, to not be thankful that I and my immediate family are in good health.

4. Writing, I don’t know what I’d do without my career as an author. I am thankful for it every day, thankful for the things it has taught me, thankful for the people I’ve met, thankful that it has allowed me to provide and experience some wonderful things over the last several years.

5. Coffee. I don’t need to embellish on this one, do I?

6. Readers. I have so many loyal and wonderful readers. I don’t know all their names, but if I did, I would thank each and every one of them personally. They have been supportive and with me every step of the way, even when I’ve hit low points. They are amazing to me.

7. Home, because I’m a homebody. I love my own space. It’s not the ideal city or house, but for now, it’s home.

8. Trader Joe’s, Earth Fare, local farmers, because as a family we’re healthier and eating better with minimally processed, no artificial ingredients, no scientific altering of foods…

9. NASCAR and Football, what can I say? I’m a Southerner. These two things are what my son and I share love and passion for and we have some very awesome conversations. It keeps us close, keeps us talking.

10. Homeschooling, given the state of the public education system, the freedom to do this is one I can’t be thankful enough for!

11. Harry Potter, this one ties into my relationship with my daughter and her childhood memories.

What are you thankful for this year?

~

Tomorrow I’ll have a Naughty and Thankful list for you along with an excerpt of my upcoming Samhain release, TWISTED UP. And yes, there’s also a giveaway involved in all this. I will be giving a $25 gift card to Amazon.com and a $25 gift card to Barnes and Noble! I’ll also be giving away two ARCs to readers for TWISTED UP!

For now, here’s the blurb to get you curious:

One rope. Three days. And two hearts on the line.

Justin has had enough. Ella, the woman who healed his broken heart, has been cancelling on him for two months straight. Sure, she’s busy with her job, which has her traveling far and wide. But that never stopped her from sharing nights of trivia, long conversations and blazing hot sex—until now. Truth to tell, he misses their easy friendship, the way her sighs fill his ear as he fills her body.

What he can’t figure out is, what’s changed?

At work, Ella finds it easy to talk to rooms full of strangers. Once back at her lonely apartment, though, she’s back to her painfully shy self—until Justin. Their chance meeting grew over the months into a year-long affair, but she can’t shake the feeling that rejection and pain are just around the corner. Best thing to do? End it now, before their intimacy digs too deep.

Suddenly he’s at her door with a length of neon-green rope and a naughty proposition, daring her to say no. Just how good could it be? There’s only one way to find out…

Warning: The sheets are tangled, the hat is crumpled, and the jeans are worn low on the hips. The cowboy is hot, determined, and helpless in the face of bunny slippers. Readers may need extra batteries to get this one out of their system.

To learn more about Lissa, visit her website: lissamatthews.com

Excerpt from WOMEN IN LUST:

BENEATH MY SKIN

Shanna Germain

“I’m afraid.”

The words coming from my lips are barely audible. My face is pushed into the sheets. My chest is, too, so that only my ass is in the air before him, raised and blooming with red handprints. Kade’s handprints. No one else touches my ass. This is the deal we have.

“You should be.” His voice is gravelly and deep, but not mean. Never mean. Even as he speaks the words that make my stomach feel cold, the rest of me is hot. My face prickles with a nervous, excited blush, even though it’s mostly hidden by my tangled hair. My palms sweat their heat into the sheets. Even the little folds behind my bent knees are growing slippery. And the space between my thighs¾which he’s teasing with one finger, soft strokes that belie his eventual plan¾that space is the hottest of all, opening around his cool fingertip, liquid and lava.

His other hand circles the curves of my still-warm ass. The skin pulses beneath his touch, each passing stroke over the tender skin pulling my breath back into my mouth. I push my face harder into the sheets, biting at the fabric to muffle my gasps.

“No,” he says, and he stops touching. Just like that. I know why¾he likes to hear me, likes to listen to the groans and moans and the cries that erupt from my mouth when he pleases or teases me.

I let go of the sheet, feel my teeth drag along the material. As soon as my mouth opens, he cups his hand back on one side of my ass, digs his nails into the pinkened curve. The sound that I tried to hold back before rises now, sliding through my throat, a mix of embarrassment and want that makes me wince.

“Good slut,” he says. “Much, much better.”

I can’t help but shiver at his words¾the way he calls me his slut, the way the sound of it makes his voice lower to a near growl¾it still makes me ache inside, so much that I want something, anything, buried in me.

Instead of filling me like I want, Kade’s hands move away from my ass, leaving me feeling unprotected somehow,. eExposed to the view and the air and whatever might come next. Which, with Kade, might be anything.

This time, it’s a question. Actually, it’s a question in the form of a command.

“Now,” he says. “Tell me why you’re scared.”

Behind me, before I can answer, I hear the click of the knife opening in his hands. Click, closed. Click, open again. The very sound makes my breath speed up, matching the beat of my pulse. Even with my eyes closed, I know what he looks like behind me: on his knees, one hand lowering to brush the roundness of my ass, the other swinging in that small, habitual gesture he has, the small black knife opening and closing with his movements.

* * *

CONTEST! Tell us here what you lust after-a movie star, a pair of shoes, a vacation in Bali-and be entered to win a copy of WOMEN IN LUST! A winner will be chosen and announced here in the comments section tomorrow night, so be sure to check back!

You can join in the rest of the WOMEN IN LUST tour by checking in HERE. And be sure to buy your copy now on Amazon or Barnes & Noble!

And if you love cupcakes, join Rachel on her cupcake blog!

First, thanks very much to Eden Bradley aka Eve Berlin for graciously inviting me to blog today at the Smutketeers.

Where do I start? Many authors have a brand…a type of writing that readers indentify them with readily. I defy definition with a big ugly fork. Why? I just can’t stay in a box and be happy. My mind demands I run in different directions, whenever and however the muse takes me.

I have enough books floating around out there that it gets hard to know which books to discuss first. I’ve been published since ’99, and my first foray in the hotness of erotic romance was when I wrote The Dare.

Over the years I’ve also written historicals that defy definition. Love From The Ashes  is set during the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake, Dark, Deadly Love (Jack The Ripper’s London), Before The Dawn (1850’s Pennsylvania), For A Roman’s Heart (Roman Britain). Yada, yada!

So, because I have so many books to choose from, I picked an excerpt out of the hat. This one is from Treacherous Wishes (available now from Ellora’s Cave) which is the second Taggert Security Team novel. Hope you enjoy!

Tammy Carter lost her psychic abilities in the aftermath of tragedy. Now, years later, her power resurrects when evil returns to her town. Everything in her comfort zone is disintegrating, except for one thing—the searing attraction she feels for one man. The one man who might stand between her…and death.

Bodyguard Kyle Hawthorne doesn’t believe in the supernatural or in Tammy’s psychic gift, but when her life is threatened he’ll do anything to protect her. Professionalism requires a platonic relationship with his coworker at Taggert Security Team, yet the sizzling connection he feels for Tammy demands exploration every time he’s near her.

Tammy harbors lightning-hot fantasies about Kyle. Suddenly their sensual desires and emotional connections are too powerful to ignore, and as they seek to sate the long-denied sexual hunger, they spark a chain reaction of events that may bring them together, or allow the evil to consume them.

***
Less than two minutes later, the phone rang again. Once more she ignored it.

She thought of something that sent her heart into a rapid jig.

Was the front door to the office locked?

Putting her mug on the counter, she trotted out to the front area. When she reached her desk, she saw the door unlocked. Damn! This might be a secure building, but Tammy never left it unlocked when alone in the office.

Before she reached the door, a blast of scorching, vivid red blinded her and she stumbled back, falling to the floor and landing on her butt. She gasped, startled by the force.

Whoever or whatever had called her had entered the building and was close. Too close.

Tammy struggled to unscramble her senses as another wave of scarlet splattered across her vision. Power flooded her system and she stood, legs wobbly and step uncertain. Dread surged through her veins like electricity, and she knew she must reach the door and lock it before the fiend with the blood red aura could arrive first.

Now. Go. Hurry.

The crimson retreated, draining away like the lifeblood of the dying. She closed her eyes and the burning sensation left her body. Relief made her almost as dizzy as the vision, and Tammy took another step. Must lock the door. The person may come back.

She stepped forward and had just touched the knob when the door came open.

Tammy jumped back, a startled yelp leaving her throat. Her heart slammed in her chest as her heel snagged on the carpet and she started to fall backwards. Before she could make another sound, the big man in the doorway leapt forward and caught her in his arms. He hauled her against his chest.

“Tammy?” Concern drew Hawthorne’s dark brows downward and his lips thinned into a frown.

“You,” she said, sighing in total relief.

No red. No colors at all. She never saw colors when she was around Hawthorne.

“Were you expecting someone else?”

“No,” she said weakly. “I was going to lock the door when you came busting in and scared the bejeebers out of me.”

“You’re trembling.” He tucked her a little closer and the heat of his body warmed her.

“I think the air conditioning was up a bit high. I-I got cold.”

Although stunned, Tammy couldn’t ignore the fact she pressed against his tall, rock-hard body. The soft, denim shirt couldn’t hide the evidence of broad shoulders under her fingers.

No, he’d never be model handsome, but perhaps that was what made him interesting. Most women found Hawthorne’s dangerous air mixed with a sharp sense of humor almost mouth-watering. His face had a mixed-up perfection that belonged in the movies. Dark and deep, his brown eyes could switch from amused to frosty in a heartbeat. His almost too long nose matched well with his uncompromising jaw. Cocoa brown hair was cut close enough to his head to be neat, but not quite military length. Tammy had a notion if he let it grow much longer the waves would go wild. Despite his looks, his face could turn hard and unforgiving. No one could ever call him boyish.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

His touch, his nearness had wiped away the terror. “I feel good.”

As she gazed up into Hawthorne’s eyes and cursed the gods that gave some men long sexy lashes, she saw something change within him.
A sudden, shocking warmth ignited in his eyes and flickered into full flame. “You feel great.”

Her mouth dropped in surprise. Was he flirting with her again?

Hawthorne’s mouth turned up in his trademark quirky smile. Between tender and hard, his mouth looked undeniably masculine. His hands moved in a caressing motion over her back, then held still, keeping her pressed to him.

Suddenly Tammy was downright breathless. His warm, spicy scent had teased and tantalized her many times before, but now she felt every inch of him, every nuance. Something had changed and it sent waves of heat straight to her toes. His six-foot-four frame towered over her five foot six inches. Her body responded despite the fright, as her breasts mashed against his muscled chest and her thighs plastered to his.

Lean without being skinny, big boned and perfectly muscled, Hawthorne looked capable of kicking anyone’s ass. His jeans slicked along narrow hips, tight butt, and long, powerful legs. Tammy licked her lips and swallowed hard as another fluttery sensation darted into her stomach.

Maybe she should say something before he thought she had lost her mind. Tammy pushed against Hawthorne’s chest and eased from his arms.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry? I thought you were waiting for me?” he asked.

“I got another one of those phone calls and I remembered the door wasn’t locked.”

It didn’t help when he came close, standing so near she inhaled a whiff of his aftershave again. He cupped her shoulder. “You look a little shaky.”
She realized that she’d been rubbing her arms. “I’m fine.”

As if to contradict her, her body rebelled and a wave of nausea replaced the desire she’d felt moments ago.

“Can’t fool me.” His quiet voice soothed her senses. “You’re pale as the dead.”

Barb’s grave. The caller had awakened the dead. “I’m okay, Hawthorne.”

Hawthorne didn’t look convinced. He shoved a hand through his already mussed hair. “What did the caller say?”

“Stupid things. It’s nothing.”

He looked doubtful. “All right. About ready to go?”

“Yeah. Let me get my coat.”

But then the queasiness increased and as Tammy turned, she pressed her hand to her stomach. Before she could say or do a thing, dizziness assaulted her.

“Hawthorne—”

Darkness blotted every color from her vision.
***

And now, for those things you really want to know about me:

Steak or sushi?
Definitely steak!

Elegant fop or rough-edged rogue?
Rough-edged rogue!

Tropical beach or mountain cabin.
Always a mountain cabin.

Cowboy or fireman?
Fireman!

Now, the contest! Answer the following question below, email me the answer at danovelist@cox.net and I’ll pick the winner from those who answer correctly. The winner will receive a trade paperback from my backlist. I’ll announce it here in the comments section on the night of the 11th.

Contest question: What rank of soldier is Terentius in For A Roman’s Heart? You’ll find the answer on my website!

***

Be sure to check out Denise’s latest release, her paranormal romance FOREVERMORE, which just came out on October 31st!

Sometimes one lifetime is not enough…

American Mae Sutton travels to Scotland to investigate tormenting dreams that have plagued her since childhood. Once in the shadowy, misty land, she discovers a brooding Highlander—and a secret that threatens her very existence.

A dark castle ruin haunts her nightmares…

Mae discovers Moor Castle is the same ruin in her nightmares, and knows she must learn why she’s been drawn to Scotland and the crumbling castle that whispers her name. She experiences an intense and immediate attraction to Aidan Ramsay, conservator of the evil castle. She’s shocked to find out she is the spitting image of a Ramsay ancestor, and that maybe her nightmares are past-life memories.

Mae and Aidan have lived before, and the dark legacy that destroyed them once, may destroy them again…

***

You can read an excerpt and see more information HERE.