Sue Swift's Blog: Welcome Back, Suzie!, page 12

My Sunshine Award!

A while back, I was the recipient of a Sunshine Award, recognition that one blogger gives other “bloggers who positively and creatively inspire others in the blogosphere”. My award was given to me by the fabulous Catherine Cavendish, a wonderful horror writer.

Her blog’s here:  http://www.catherinecavendish.com/2013/03/the-sunshine-award-is-lovely-sunny.html. Thanks, Cat!

As with most awards, the Sunshine Award comes with a few simple rules:

(1) Thank the person who gave you the award in your blog post.

(2) Do the Q&A below

(3) Pass on the award to 10-12 deserving and inspiring bloggers, inform them and link to their blogs.

And now for the very simple Q&A:

My fave color: Wow. This is a hard one. I majored in art and still dabble in painting and furniture refinishing, so I love color–all colors. I even love the absence of color–so white is my color of choice. I love the idea of the blank slate, the empty canvas, the paper

Waiting to be filled with beautiful words.

that exists to be filled with glorious words. Favorite animal: that’s also tough. I’ve known and loved many pets in my time. I suppose my all-time fave animal was my beautiful golden, Blondie, who died of cancer in 2005. She was my companion for thirteen years, and I still miss her loving, joyous presence in my life.

Favorite Number: This changes so I can’t really say I have one.

Favorite Non-alcoholic Drink: Fresh carrot juice. Okay, I’m weird. It’s a known fact.

Facebook or Twitter: FB all the way. Makes me laugh. makes me cry, keeps me informed about my friends’ doings.

My Passion: self-improvement. I’m always trying to be a better, more patient, kinder person.

Giving or getting presents: Ooh, another toughie. Giving–I seem to do that more. I love getting, sure, but picking out the perfect gift for someone I love is wonderful fun. And their reaction when I’ve hit it right– wonderful.

Favorite Day: Today!

And here are the gifted artists I’m tagging: Diane Farr: http://www.bestbyfarr.com/

Radhika: http://eradhika.com/

Beth Barany: http://www.bethbarany.com/

Maggie Nash: http://maggienash.blogspot.com/

Victoria Blisse: http://victoriablisse.co.uk/blog

Nick Roberts: http://masternickroberts.wordpress.com/

Lesley Carter: http://lesleycarter.wordpress.com/tag/lesley-carter/

Sedonia Guillone: http://www.sedoniaguillone.com/blog/

Emmy Ellis: http://emmyellis.blogspot.com/p/emmy-ellis.html

Deb Stover: http://debstover.blogspot.com/

Your blog hostess: Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on

Author Sue Swift/Suz deMello

writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients. Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists. A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at [email protected]

Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift

‘She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun    

http://victoriablisse.co.uk/sunday-snog

Celebrating the release of my romantic thriller, Puckheads, set in the world of ice hockeye, and thanks again to Victoria Blisse for this marvelous promo opportunity.

How far would you go to win your lifelong dream?

 When Zoë Whipple agrees to make a documentary about a hockey team’s season, she doesn’t sign on for scandal, crime and murder. But she discovers that players, rabid to win the championship, don’t let morality or the law stand in the way of their ambitions.

 When a rookie dies from cardiac arrest, Zoë is saddened but not suspicious until another player, in the grip of ’roid rage, goes berserk on the ice and ends up in the hospital. Digging into the mess reveals illegal painkillers and steroid abuse among most of the team. Zoë, whose reputation for honest filmmaking is at stake, threatens to expose the scandals.

Is her new lover, team captain “Crash” Crasseau, responsible for the harassment and vandalism meant to scare her into silence? When Crasseau’s ex-wife is murdered, and Zoë’s daughter is threatened, Zoë must choose between her career ambitions and her child’s safety.

And here’s the snog:

As Zoe left the room, the first person she saw was Daniel Crasseau. Just her luck. She again wondered how she was going to manage Crasseau and his Cro-Magnon possessiveness. He didn’t seem to get the message that she wasn’t going to play his idiotic games. How many times had he hit his head on the boards? Enough to scramble the brains inside, she bet.

He leaned against the wall and regarded her with a broody stare. His eyes were the same chilly color as compressed glacial ice, which didn’t help her composure. His dark blond hair, still damp from a post-game shower, brushed the collar of a navy polo shirt. He’d belted his jeans with a strip of leather that seemed clumsily hand-tooled. Aside from his stature, he looked like any other man might. So why did Crasseau get to her?

“Zoë Whipple,” he said in his deep, rough voice.

Her nipples tightened, scratching against her lace top. She didn’t like it or him, but she finally admitted to herself what bothered her about Crash.

He was damn sexy and knew it. How was she going to deal with him?

She resented his effect on her. As a filmmaker, she regularly dealt with the rich and famous. She knew Robert Redford, for heaven’s sake. She’d flown in Harrison Ford’s plane, but her stomach had never done somersaults.

“Whipple. What a suggestive, seductive name.”

She raised a brow. “If this is your idea of sweet talk, hockey groupies are way too easy.”

Smiling, he drew closer. She caught a whiff of his cologne, a compelling, spicy scent. Then he asked, “Do you like whips, Zoë Whipple?”

Though jolted, she shot him a cool smile. “You’ll never know.”

“Oh, I think I will.”

She sucked in a breath, aware of the tiny hairs up and down her back bristling at Crasseau’s staggering arrogance. “I’m convinced you don’t get enough, Crasseau, and I’m not the answer to your, uh, little problem.” She pointedly glanced at his pants.

He reared back, putting distance between them. “I’m getting plenty, and I don’t have a little problem.”

Ha. She’d nailed him where he was weak, in his male ego. “Really?” She hoped she sounded derisive.

“Yeah, really.” He imitated her contemptuous tone.

“So why are you flirting with me? I’m old enough to be your mother.”

Those ice blue eyes again surveyed her. He smiled. “I very much doubt that. I think we are of an age, you and I, and have more in common than you may know.”

“I’m pushing forty, studboy.”

He shrugged. “Big deal. In five years, I will be also.” He sipped his whiskey and eyed her over the rim of his glass.

That meant he was, what, thirty-four? Thirty-five? Not old, but in this sport, a senior. She tried not to appear deflated, but so many hockey players were kids that she’d overlooked that Crash was a man, and a very sexy one at that.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and then to her breasts. His scent tickled her nose while his sexual aura filled her senses. How did he do that? she wondered. Was it his reputation? Would the fact he was so obviously thinking about sex make him seductive, make her think about bed?

Puckheads by Sue Swift

Zoë took another deep breath, resolving that she was not going to get involved with a man as clearly troubled as Daniel Crasseau. Any kind of intimacy with him would insult her husband’s memory. She was going to get rid of Crash, fast and forever.

She said, “What if you’re looking for something else?”

“What?”

“You get laid plenty, or so you say.” She wondered what imp had taken over her tongue. When she talked with Crash, she often said the darnedest things. She’d certainly never used so many rude, crude terms.

But Crasseau was rude and crude, and, determined to scare him off, she figured she’d fight fire with fire. “So if you don’t want sex, what is it that you want?”

He shrugged. “What could that be?”

“What if you want to open your head and heart, and sharing your body just isn’t enough?” Zoë knew that men hated to talk about feelings. There was a thousand-percent chance that Crash would turn tail and scram.

He stared at her, looking as though she’d bitch-slapped him. “I don’t want that kind of commitment.”

“Then go hit on someone else. You don’t need me, and I don’t need you to mess up my life. You come over here and flirt—”

“I hardly said anything.” Raising his hands defensively, Crasseau backed off.

“You don’t have to say anything. You flirt with your eyes, your smile, your entire body. You come in here, pure testosterone, giving off pheromones like…like the sun gives off light and heat, and you’re saying now—” She stopped, hearing a door open behind her and footsteps advance. Lauren. Damn.

He ignored the interruption. “So you are interested.”

“I have children, Crasseau,” she hissed. “I’m supposed to be setting an example.”

Her daughter slid an arm around Zoë’s waist and said, “Hi, Mom. Why don’t you introduce me?”

He smiled and extended a hand. “Daniel Crasseau.”

Grinning, Lauren shook Crash’s hand. “Lauren Whipple.”

“May I date your mother?”

“You can try. Good luck.” With a wink, she slipped past them on her way downstairs, passing another partier.

“So you’re a tough one, eh?” His eyes gleamed. “That’s all right. I like a challenge.”

Zoë folded her arms across her torso, deciding she’d deal with Lauren later. “I’m not a challenge, I’m a person.”

“Even better.”

“Right,” she sneered. “The kind of female you want is right over there.” She nodded toward the staircase, where a blonde woman now leaned against the rail, displaying her body. She wore a damp halter top, inflated breasts, thick makeup and an avid expression.

Crasseau’s gaze passed over her with total indifference. “I’m done with hockey hos and puckbunnies.” He waved a hand dismissively, and the blonde woman went back downstairs, calling Thor’s name. Crash continued. “They’re boring. Why shouldn’t I be interested in you?”

“You’re not. I don’t do one-nighters.”

“If we’re good together, there could be more.”

“Be still my heart.” She placed a hand on her chest.

As though magnetized, Crasseau’s glance followed her hand to her breasts. She again crossed her arms over herself and narrowed her eyes at him. He grinned back.

He looked infuriatingly sexy.

He looked as though he could deliver on every seductive promise.

He looked like a six-foot-four-inch problem.

How was she going to get rid of him? She said, “Crasseau, listen to me. I’m a widow. My husband died two years ago. I’m not getting involved with you or anyone.”

His eyes went blank as glass, concealing his thoughts. “I am sorry for your loss.” His voice was precise, polite, as if he were reading lines he’d memorized from Miss Manners.

Hmm, she thought. There’s something going on here.

He took her hand and kissed the back of it. She hated to admit that the gesture, though corny, felt good. What was wrong with her?

“I could make you forget the past.” His voice had gone dark and husky.

“Forget my husband? I don’t want to forget him.”

“I could make you forget the pain.” He brushed his knuckles over her collarbone, leaving a trail of sensual longing in his wake.

She shivered.

Not a cold shiver. A shiver of need, of passion.

As quickly as her desire had arisen, she squelched the feeling. The humiliation of becoming another notch on Crasseau’s hockey stick was one factor. And there was Zoë herself. Paul had been the love of her life. Why should she settle for anything less than the joy she’d known?

Crasseau was nothing but trouble. She didn’t need or want him. Did she?

While she’d ruminated, he’d eased closer. Though he’d cornered her at the end of the hallway, she didn’t feel trapped. Her heart banged against her ribs. But she wasn’t scared. She was excited.

He ran seductive fingertips up and down her bare arm. The tiny hairs lifted, tickling her, raising a tremor of response he must have seen.

Sue Swift/Suz deMello

One more bedroom smile and that’s where she’d be headed. To his bedroom.

He bent his head close to hers. “I could do it too. I could make you forget.”

He was too close and too right, damn him. “I’m…I’m cold. I want to get my jacket.”

“Funny, you look pretty damn hot to me.”

Her mouth dropped open. Hot? She was hot? Since when?

“Nice blush.” He winked at her. “You look good in red. Come with me. I’ll warm you up.”

That one had been old when Zoë was sixteen. “Warm me up? Are you kidding?”

“Ah, you’re smiling. That’s a good sign.” He covered her mouth with his.

He tasted her as though she were fine wine, sipping at her mouth rather than ravaging it. Every gentle touch of his surprisingly tender lips quivered through her body.

No one had kissed her mouth since Paul died. The shock of it made her limp, and the pleasure, a pleasure she’d forgotten, made her reel and sway, pliant in his arms.

Then there were his hands. Big, rough hockey player’s hands that had scored hundreds of goals, fought through a thousand scrums. Hands that now stroked Zoë with the delicacy of a kitten’s paws, sliding up and down her back, then palming her bottom. He pressed her hips against his with those big, firm hands.

He wasn’t lying about his desire. In instinctive response, her need whispered through every cell, as though something quiescent had awakened.

His distinctive scent filled her nostrils. What was it?

“What was what?” he asked.

Damn. She must have spoken aloud, murmuring against his mouth. No way to hide…

“Your cologne,” she said.

“I’m not wearing any.”

Double damn. That meant she found his natural scent attractive. “That’s not good.”

“Of course it is,” he said, understanding perfectly. He nibbled on her earlobe before trailing gentle kisses along the side of her throat toward her breasts.

Despite how good he felt, how good he smelled, she wasn’t ready for this, or him. A good, sharp shove forced him all the way to the opposite wall of the hallway.

“Do not,” she snarled, “do not, under any circumstances, push me into a corner like that. I am not here to wax your stick every time you think it needs polishing.”

“Maybe not, but you want me.”

“So what?” She jammed past him, planning to leave.

But a delightful, tingling warmth had spread throughout her limbs. She recognized the unfamiliar feeling. Pleasure.

A man, not her husband, had flattered her, kissed her, desired her, and she’d found it pleasurable.

She wasn’t sure she wanted that.

Zoë glanced back at Crash, who followed her. His eyes held an intensity, a desperate hunger she didn’t understand.

She couldn’t trust someone she didn’t understand.

Author bio: Suz deMello:

Best-selling, award-winning author Sue Swift, a.k.a Suz deMello, has written over fifteen novels, plus several short stories

and non-fiction articles. She writes in numerous genres including romance, mystery, paranormal, historical, contemporary comedy and erotica. She’s a freelance editor who’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, Liquid Silver Books and Etopia Press. She also takes on private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in PW, Kirkus and Booklist, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several

bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, she resides in northern California. Her passion is world travel, and she’s left the US over a dozen times, including stints working overseas for many months. Right now, she’s working on her next manuscript and planning her next trip.

Her blog is at http://www.fearlessfastpacedfiction.com. Find her reading picks @ReadThis4fun on Twitter, and befriend her on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/SueSwift ). Her sites are at http://www.sue-swift.com and http://www.suzdemello.com.

My friend Janey Fraser, a writer I met last time I attended the Women’s Fiction Festival in Matera, Italy, has written another charming book. Her book launch party is on Tuesday April 9 at the Players’ Rehearsal Hall and Club Room Basement at 10 Craven Street, London WC2N 5PE from 5.30 –  7.30 p.m

What’s it about?

–Bobbie’s at the end of her tether. Her children don’t listen to a word she says and her workaholic husband is never home.  Even worse, her mother is bringing a new boyfriend to visit: the notorious Dr Know, who dishes out hard-line parental advice to the nation. Could parenting classes save Bobbie’s bacon?

–Andy’s family is so perfect that his wife has been asked to run a parenting class at the local school. But Pamela has been leading a secret life and suddenly he’s left to look after their two teenage daughters. Surprisingly, they aren’t quite as perfect as he thought.

–Vanessa hasn’t seen her daughter for years. But one night, her six-year-old granddaughter is deposited on her doorstep. This time she’s determined to get it right.

Author Janey Fraser

PRAISE FOR JANEY FRASER

‘Warm and humorous’ TAKE A BREAK

‘Light and lovely’ CANDIS

“Hilarious’ INSIDE SOAP

‘A fun and delightful read’ THE AMERICAN

About Janey: she has been a journalist for 25 years and contributes regularly to national newspapers and magazines.  She has also published books under the pen name Sophie King.  And she has actually been to parenting classes!  Happy Families is the third Janey Fraser title following on from The Playgroup and The Au Pair in 2012.  Find out more about Janey at www.janeyfraser.co.uk or follow her on twitter: @janey_fraser

Here’s an excerpt:

PERFECT PARENTS’ SCHOOL! SIGN UP NOW!

EIGHT WEEKS TO CHANGE YOUR KIDS – OR YOUR MONEY BACK!*

IS YOUR FAMILY LIFE IN A MESS?

DO YOUR CHILDREN REFUSE TO BEHAVE?

THEN YOU’RE NOT ALONE !

BUT THE GOOD NEWS IS THAT CORRYWOOD’S PERFECT PARENTS’ SCHOOL IS HERE TO HELP!

CLASSES FOR ALL AGES RUN BY EXPERIENCED INEXPERIENCED PARENTS

*Certain conditions apply.

Chapter 1

BOBBIE

‘I’m not telling you again, Jack! Put it back. NOW! Before I count to three. One. Two. Two point five . . .’

Bobbie felt like screaming. Correction. She was screaming. Why wouldn’t Jack do what he was told?

She’d tried everything. Hypnotherapy. Reflexology. Cranial osteopathy. Dairy diets. No- dairy diets. But Jack was the kind of child who simply couldn’t

Happy Families by Janey Fraser

leave things alone. Including the Action Man Easter egg in his hands right now.

‘Two point seven five . . .’

An older woman in the queue ahead, wearing gold hoop earrings and bright pink leggings, was turning round to stare. Don’t blame me, Bobbie wanted to say. Supermarkets shouldn’t be allowed to display sweets (let alone Easter eggs when it was barely February!) right by the checkout. How was a parent meant to cope?

Jack, with his blond mop of hair (just like his father) might only be seven but he had a will of iron. Just look at the way he was hopping from one foot to another, challenging her with a gappy-toothed mischievous try-and-stop-me grin that would melt anyone’s heart. Anyone that is, who wasn’t related by blood. ‘Put that back,’ she repeated.

Jack leaped up and down, shaking his head. ‘What’s the magic word, Mum?’

She gritted her teeth. ‘Please.’

Jack tossed the egg in the air and then caught it. Why were small boys like rebellious fleas? Always zooming around as though their batteries were on speed. Constantly pushing your buttons. ‘Say it again, Mum!’

Anything! Just to stop him. ‘Please.’

There was a rumble of disapproval from behind her, followed by a ‘Kids are allowed to get away with anything nowadays!’ How true! Just look at Jack who now – despite two ‘pleases’ – was peeling off the shiny silver and purple wrapping, cracking off Action Man’s head and stuffing it in his mouth while still jumping around from one foot to the other as though in a boxing ring.

‘WE HAVEN’T PAID FOR IT YET!’

Oh dear. Everyone in the queue was turning round. Quite a few more were mumbling loudly about ‘respect’ and ‘in my day’ apart from a weasel-faced, tattooed youth who was yelling, ‘Go for it, kid,’ accompanied by a loud wolf whistle.

‘JACK! I’LL TELL YOU ONE MORE TIME!’

Was that really her, shouting like that? She must, Bobbie told herself, have been mad to have come here in the first place. A busy supermarket on a Saturday morning with a borderline hyperactive seven-year-old in tow? It was asking for trouble! But she’d been desperate for a birthday card and some wrapping paper for this wretched party. Not to mention a pair of tights and an instant colour wash to brighten up her hair, which had looked horribly mousy when she’d looked in the mirror this morning.

‘I’m sorry,’ she blustered to the crowd at large. ‘I’ve got him on a no-sugar diet and . . . NO, JACK, NOT ANOTHER ONE! COME HERE!’

Bobbie hurled herself forwards but Jack had already rushed past, diving into the empty Reduced Bread shelf. Now the crowd was gasping with horror mixed with excitement. ‘Get out of there or you’ll hurt yourself,’ she hissed, bending down on all fours to try and extract him. But he was out of reach. Only someone so small – and unmanageable – could do this.

Then suddenly his right arm and leg came out from the shelf at exactly the same time and back again – rather like synchronised swimming. She tried to grab him – nearly! – but the arm and leg shot back, accompanied by loud giggles from the perpetrator. Then out again. And in. Missed once more!

Your blog hostess:

Sue Swift/Suz deMello

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at [email protected] her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift

She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

As a society, we are in love with celebrity. Maybe you’ve not been bitten by the fame bug, but if you have, and you want the exposure or simply enjoyment of seeing your name in a book, here’s how you can do that.

Go to my Facebook page at:

https://www.facebook.com/SueSwift

Befriend me, and follow me.

At this time, I’m about 10K words into my latest novel, tentatively entitled Rakes in Tartan. It’s the third in my bestselling Kilburn Vampires series. The first book, Temptation in Tartan reached #1 on the All Romance Ebooks list (other-historical) and hung round in the top five for a week. The second, Desire in Tartan, has been purchased by Ellora’s Cave and awaits publication.

#1 ARE bestseller

Your name would be attached to a minor character, Clan Kilburn’s “man of affairs” in London. At the time–1816–a man of affairs was the person who handled business for a member of the nobility, many of whom would not wish to soil their hands in filthy lucre. As for my hero, he’s too busy wooing his lady love to want to annoy himself with the mundane business of investigating her family.

And what would this man of affairs discover?

That remains to be seen. But in the world I’ve created, not all vampires are named Kilburn.

Using a random number generator, I will choose from among my FB followers just before I submit the manuscript to my editor.

Thanks for participating! As an added incentive, the chosen one will get a free copy of the book.

If you’re not familiar with the series, here’s what it’s about:

Rumors have followed the chieftains of Clan Kilburn for centuries. Said to be descended from the Viking Berserkers, they were ferocious in battle, known for tearing off the heads of their enemies and drinking their blood.


The gossip is frightening, but the reality is even darker.


From the elegant mansions of Mayfair to the mist-shrouded Highlands, the Kilburn vampires hunt, swive and kill. None are immune to their dangerous allure.


Who are the women who would dare to love them?



YOUR BLOG HOSTESS

Sue Swift/Suz deMello

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at [email protected]

Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift

She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

 

 

This differs from person to person, and for me, from moment to moment.

Read about what I think is sexy…if you dare.

http://sexyreads.co.uk/interviews/what-is-sexy-to-suz-demello

Followers of this blog are acquainted with the name of “Victoria Blisse”–she’s the genius writer/promoter who so generously includes other authors in her promotional efforts.

Author Victoria Blisse

Vicky has a new story out which I’m sure  you’ll enjoy.

Vanilla with Extra Nuts is a ménage story, featuring two hot guys and one shy and sexy vanilla girl.

Here’s the blurb:

She’s just a vanilla girl until she finds her perfect toppings.

Megan is slowly falling in love with Adam until he confesses he’s seeing a guy behind her back. She thinks the relationship has been ruined until the night she indulges in a threesome with the man she loves and Simon, his lover.

As much as she enjoys being sandwiched between the two men she’s not sure the arrangement can last. So Megan has to decide.

Can she come to terms with sharing the man she adores with his male lover or will she have to say goodbye to her soulmate forever?

Pick up your copy from:

Amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/Vanilla-Extra-Group-Erotica-ebook/dp/B00BI4T13E/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1361345944&sr=8-4&tag=sexy00-21

Amazon.co.uk http://www.amazon.co.uk/Vanilla-Extra-Group-Erotica-ebook/dp/B00BI4T13E/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1361345833&sr=8-1&tag=sexy00-21

All Romance Ebooks https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-vanillawithextranuts-1076497-144.html?referrer=9d8e54f3ce71ca2554b388837ebb07e6

Here’s a very hot excerpt:

Adam kissed me, cutting off my moans and muffling my gasps. Two tongues invaded me and teased me to the very heights of ecstasy. I was overloaded with the different touches and strokes over my body and I knew in a matter of moments I would explode. Then Simon stopped and I think I whimpered.

“Not yet, love, not yet.” Simon cooed and winked at me as I pouted down at him. “Damn, you and Adam make a fan-fucking-tastic cocktail. I always thought you would. I want to drink from your freshly fucked pussy on a regular basis now. It’s addictive.” I blushed but I smiled too. However, the smile was soon replaced as my jaw dropped. Simon parted Adam’s thighs and placed his juice covered lips around the very hard cock of my boyfriend. I’ve never seen a man give a blowjob before, nope never, so as well as being as hot as hell I found watching Simon’s technique very enlightening.

He used his hands to tease and stroke Adam’s balls almost constantly and he kept up a steady rhythm. I ran a finger through my sticky folds as I watched eagerly and took note. Simon pulled away suddenly and it was Adam’s turn to whimper with disappointment.

“You know I love your cock, baby,” Simon purred, “but right now I want to feel that gorgeous pussy wrapped around my dick. You don’t mind, do you, buddy?”

“No, no, I completely understand. Go ahead man, fuck her. I can see she’s gagging for it.”

Vanilla With Extra Nuts

My jaw dropped in disbelief at the way Adam just treated me like some kind of possession, but I said nothing because I really did want to be fucked and I was, as he’d said, gagging for it. Simon moved back between my thighs and leaned over to the bedside table. He opened the little drawer and pulled out a condom. Obviously he was used to Adam’s habits and for a minute I felt the old feelings of jealousy and upset overcoming me, but as Simon sat back on his heels, peeled open the packet, and rolled the condom over his thick cock I forgot all that and the lust over took my emotions once again.

Adam pressed his cheek against mine as we both craned our necks to watch Simon’s cock press between my lips. I felt so cherished, so sexy in that moment as one hot guy slipped inside of me and another held me close in his arms. Adam and I both watched enraptured for a few moments as Simon’s cock worked in and out of my slippery cunt. I was on fire, my cheeks and my chest were enflamed  with heat. I tingled all over, my skin so sensitive every subtle touch brought me ever closer to orgasm.

Adam kissed me and his hand ran down over my stomach. I closed my eyes and concentrated on his lips on mine. It was such a strange sensation to have one man fuck you and one man kiss you, but it was good and something I wanted to experience again and again. I groaned when his fingers slipped down to my clit.  As Simon fucked me Adam rubbed me just how I liked.

Adam’s lips left mine and again we were cheek to cheek watching what happened between my thighs. I found it hard to hold my eyes open, the pleasure grew in intensity and I didn’t  want to miss one moment of this amazing experience. But eventually the sensations became too much and the ecstasy shot through me with such power my eyelids rattled shut as a desperate, orgasmic scream ripped from me.

And here’s a little about the author:

Victoria Blisse is a Mother, Wife, Christian, Manchester United Fan and Award Winning Erotica Authoress. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut Alfresco and Smut in the City and Smut by the Sea Anthologies.

Victoria is also one of the brains behind the fabulous Smut by the Sea Event taking place at Scarborough Library (UK) on the 22nd June 2013. A day dedicated to Erotica with a mini erotic marketplace and lots of Author Readings, Fun Giveaways and Exciting Talks.

She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker (She is TEB’s Resident “Naked Chef”) and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.

Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

You can find often find Victoria procrastinating on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest

Your blog hostess:

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres,

Sue Swift/Suz deMello

including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

Write This, Not That!

Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at [email protected]

Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift

She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

She’s currently touting her bestselling primer on writing, Write This, Not That! which can be purchased at http://tiinyurl.com/suzdemellowritethis

 

 

http://victoriablisse.co.uk/sunday-snog

I again take advantage of Vicky Blisse’s incredible generosity to post one of my favorite scenes from my award-winning, best-selling Regency romance, Lord Devere’s Ward, now available in paperback for the first time in over a decade.

What’s it about, you ask?

Here’s the blurb:

Orphaned Kate Scoville is trapped in a tower prison by her scheming uncle, who plans to wed her to his loathsome son in order to gain control of her fortune. Plucky and resourceful, Lady Kate escapes to London to ask for help from her guardian. She’s sure the elderly Earl of Devere will help her in her plight.

Kate is astounded to find that the Earl has died, and his son has become her guardian. Quinn, the present Earl, remembers Kate from his childhood as an awkward child he loved to taunt and tease.

But now his ward has grown into a beautiful young woman. Though honor prevents Quinn from making Kate his, their attraction is irresistible…

Will Kate tempt Quinn into abandoning honor? Will the wicked uncle trap Kate, compromise her and steal her fortune?

Here’s the snog

The afternoon warmth heated Kate’s skin where her bonnet did not shade her. The thin, low-cut muslin dress did little to protect her shoulders from the brilliant spring sunshine. She dashed through the maze at Hampton Court, laughing and breathless as she eluded the rest of the party. Quinn had promised a special prize for whichever of the young people reached the center of the maze first. Whatever you want, he had said, winking at Pauline when she wanted to know what the surprise would be. Kate was determined to be the recipient of the treat.

She wondered if she would dare to demand a kiss from Quinn.

Extending her left hand, she kept touching the side of the hedge. She had read that if the searcher kept to the left, always to the left, she or he would inevitably reach the center of the maze.

…

Quinn, armed in advance with a plan of the maze, now waited in the center for his quarry. Having seen the determined glint in his Kate’s eyes, he knew she would find her way to the heart of the maze first.

He sat on a stone bench and wondered what she’d ask of him. He counted himself fortunate that Fashion now favored loose trousers rather than skin-tight, knitted pantaloons. The clear evidence of his emotions at the picnic had been disguised by his pants.

Kate had been subtly but outrageously flirtatious the entire day. Her pink sprigged muslin appeared to be worn over dampened, clinging petticoats. She met his eyes constantly, then let her dusky lashes sweep her flushed cheeks. She had even brushed against him once or twice as they toured Hampton Court Palace.

How on earth had she learned such wiles? And from where?

Quinn frowned. He’d have a great deal to say to this Elizabeth Telmont, of Miss Elizabeth’s School in Bath, if they ever met.

But he had to credit Katherine with discretion as well as coquetry. She had frequently taken the arm of her friend Sybilla Farland

Lord Devere’s Ward

to giggle with her over some joke. Kate had sat next to Bryan St. Wills at the picnic, choosing to use her eyes and her smile rather than proximity to tempt her guardian. Quinn doubted anyone else knew the little witch was torturing his feelings, except perhaps for Willoughby Hawkes. The sharp-eyed roué wouldn’t miss the byplay, since he already knew Kate’s identity as well as Quinn’s desire for the girl. And if Hawkes knew, there was a fair chance Louisa knew also. Quinn didn’t understand why Anna tolerated the growing intimacy between Hawkes and Louisa but, as it wasn’t his business, he kept his nose out of the affair.

Affair. That was the word, wasn’t it? He wanted to have an affair with his ward…or more.

His breath caught in his throat as Kate appeared at the gap in the hedge, then entered the center of the maze.

They were alone. A butterfly fluttered ’round the silk flowers on Kate’s bonnet. She untied the ribbon beneath her chin, then sat next to him on the narrow bench.

She smiled at Quinn. “I believe I’ve won your prize, my lord.”

“So what shall you demand of me, sweet Kate?”

She tipped her head to one side and regarded him, still flirting with her eyes, her smile. He could tell she was nervous, yet expectant. He did not know if he should encourage her.

“I’m not quite sure yet.” She touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip. “What do you have to give me, my lord?”

His voice rasped in his throat. “Quinn. Please, call me Quinn.”

“My lord Quinn,” she said, with just a trace of mocking good humor in her tone.

“Kate,” he said, taking her chin gently between his long, strong fingers. She quivered slightly but did not pull away as he stroked her cheek. Her response rippled through her body as he drew her into his arms.

Yes. The first kiss was as sweet as he had known it would be. For a few moments, he forgot why he had denied his desire, and hers, for so long.

As he touched his lips to hers, it was as though a spark flashed between them, igniting their emotions. Their mouths caressed and danced. When his tongue sought admission, she did not refuse him entry. He groaned as his embrace tightened, pulling her onto his lap. She reached up, touching his shoulders, tentatively at first, then with more confidence as their kiss deepened. Her arms wound around his neck as he held her close. He could feel her breasts, barely confined by the flimsy muslin, pressing against his chest. Her heartbeat was quick as a rabbit’s, and knowing she was excited aroused him all the more.

When they finally parted he regarded her with amazement. “My darling Kate. Where did you learn to kiss like that?”

She chuckled as she wriggled on his lap. He groaned as she unwittingly rubbed her backside against his erection. Good God, how he wanted her.

“Are you all right, Quinn?”

“I’m fine, sweetling, but let’s move you back onto the bench for now.” She shifted her weight, then let him entwine her fingers with his. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed each fingertip, then the back of her hand, appreciating the delicate interplay of bone and muscle. “That was not a rhetorical question. I am sure neither Aristophanes nor Homer discusses kissing in such detail.”

“I am not entirely book-learned, sir. I have had some small contact with boys.”

“‘Some small contact with boys’? Need I be outraged, my ward?”

She laughed again. “I trust not, my guardian. The brothers of my schoolmates would occasionally visit Miss Elizabeth’s, and I did steal a kiss or two.”

“And how do I compare?”

“Ummm…very well, I must say. You exhibit natural talent as well as considerable experience, my lord.”

“Oof!” Slapping his chest, Quinn affected a shot to the heart. “I suppose I deserved that.”

“Completely. I felt for a moment you were questioning my virtue.”

“Absolutely not. But you do exhibit natural talent as well as, um, some experience, my ward.” He looked down at her and smiled.

She met his gaze without a flinch, lifting her mouth to his again. “Only some experience, I assure you.”

If you like what you read, buy the book here:

  http://tinyurl.com/deveresward

Your blog hostess:

Sue Swift/Suz deMello

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at [email protected]

Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift

She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

 

Vienna Valentine

Introducing Vienna Valentine by Antonia van Zandt

On a hot summer’s night in Vienna, wolves dream of passion…

Escaping from a disastrous marriage, Nina comes to stay with friends in Vienna for a much-needed holiday. Love is the last thing she’s looking for, but when she sees the hot couple in the apartment below making love on their balcony, she can’t take her eyes off them. When they invite her to join them for a night of pleasure, how can she refuse? Captivated by the handsome, seductive Karl, Nina agrees and has the hottest sex of her life. It’s just supposed to be a bit of fun. A one-night stand.

But one night of passion with this gorgeous, mysterious man is not enough. There’s something unusual about him. But what is his secret? And why won’t he let her look at him when they make love? When she finally learns the truth, Karl’s life hangs in the balance, and Nina must leave, never knowing if she’ll ever see him again…

Now, for broadminded adults, aged 18+ only, here is a steamy extract:

 Excerpt:

In front of the door marked “313,” something made me hesitate. Going to bed with someone I hadn’t even met before would be a first for me. Oh, what the hell, I thought and rang the doorbell.

The man was as tall and broad shouldered as I had gauged him to be. His dark tan contrasted with the brilliant white of his shirt which he wore with buttons unfastened to the middle of his chest. This guy worked out. Those shoulder muscles didn’t get that way by accident. His face broke into a smile as he opened the door wider and motioned me in. His voice was softly accented.

“Welcome, Nina, please come in.”

Doors opened off a small, L-shaped hallway and led into the kitchen and the living room, where he now led me. Inside, Magda uncurled her model’s legs, stood up from the settee, smiled, and held a glass of sparking wine out to me. That long chestnut hair gleamed as it cascaded over her shoulders and framed her classically beautiful face with its high cheekbones and dark brown eyes. Bra-less, she was dressed in an emerald green silk robe, tied at the waist but parted enough to show the curve of her full, firm breasts and, as she moved, the glimpse of a black silk thong.

As she moved closer to hand me the drink, I saw her nipples outlined against the silk. The room was pleasantly cool but not cold. Still, I could feel my own nipples hardening and my clit tingling.

“Have some champagne.”

I took the glass from her.

“We have looked forward to this evening very much. We will all have a lovely time, no?”

“Yes,” I said, finding my voice cracked a little. My throat was dry and I was grateful for the cold champagne.

Magda leaned forward and kissed my forehead. Such a simple gesture, but she made it sensual.

“How did you know my name?” I asked.

Jakob stroked my back. “My dear Nina, we know everything about you.”

That brought me up sharp. “How? I mean, why? I mean…”

Magda took my half-empty glass and placed it on the table. As she did so, her gown parted still further, revealing the outline of a dark nipple.

“Shsh, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you are here. And we are here. Soon we will be joined by another. OK?”

I don’t know why, but she was right. At this moment, it didn’t matter. All that counted was that I went to bed with these two beautiful people. They clearly desired me, and after Tony’s ultimate rejection, I could use some ego-boosting.

Jakob had removed his shirt and now, dressed in black trousers that revealed a  considerable bulge in the front, took my hand and led me into the bedroom. A king size bed, its mattress covered by a black satin sheet, awaited us. Light poured in through the window until Magda closed the drapes, leaving us in a muted natural light, clear enough to see everything, but dim enough to add atmosphere.

Jakob unzipped his pants, never taking his eyes off me as I sat on the bed. The mattress dipped as Magda knelt behind me. Her delicate arms wrapped around my waist and one by one, she began undoing the little buttons of my blouse, letting her fingers glide over my skin and raising goosebumps in their wake. Then she slid the blouse off my shoulders and down my arms. She unhooked my bra, exposing my breasts to Jakob’s appreciative gaze. My eyes focused on his groin. As he slid his boxers down and stood up straight, his massive cock stood out at a perfect right angle. Hot wetness soaked my panties. I wanted to fuck him now, but he had other plans.

Vienna Valentine is available from

Amazon.com 

Amazon.co.uk 

Amazon.ca 

Barnes and Noble  

Kobo

You can connect with Antonia here:

http://antoniavanzandt.blogspot.co.uk/

http://www.facebook.com/antonia.vanzandt

https://twitter.com/AntoniavanZandt

Your blog hostess: 

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres,

Sue Swift/Suz deMello

including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at [email protected]

Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift

She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

 

 

I met Cat Cavendish when working as senior editor at Etopia Press. That gig is in my past, but I’ve maintained relationships with some of the authors I met there. You’ve read her work a number of times on this blog,and that’s because she’s  a fabulous writer. Her work is imaginative, engaging and well-written. The Second Wife is no exception.

Being a second wife can have its problems – although, hopefully, not with such deadly and frightening consequences as those experienced by the main character in my latest paranormal horror novella.

 Here’s the blurb: 

The Second Wife by Catherine Cavendish

Emily Marchant died on Valentine’s Day. If only she’d stayed dead…

When Chrissie Marchant first sets eyes on Barton Grove, she feels as if the house doesn’t want her. But it’s her new husband’s home, so now it’s her home as well. Sumptuous and exquisitely appointed, the house is filled with treasures that had belonged to Joe’s first wife, the perfect Emily, whom the villagers still consider the real mistress of Barton Grove.

A stunning photograph of the first Mrs. Marchant hangs in the living room, an unblemished rose in her hand. There’s something unnerving and impossibly alive about that portrait, but it’s not the only piece of Emily still in the house. And as Chrissie’s marriage unravels around her, she learns that Emily never intended for Joe to take a second wife…

And now for an extract:

I leaned back, closed my eyes, and luxuriated in the warm, fragrant water. Mustn’t fall asleep, I told myself. But I found myself drifting, as my muscles relaxed and the tension in the back of my neck dissolved.

The house was almost silent. The only sound was the slight lapping of the water as I shifted position. The scent of jasmine floated into my nostrils from the bath oil. Warm, sensuous. I drifted further, poised in that neverland between wakefulness and slumber.

And that’s when the smell of vanilla poured over me. Something pulled me down in the bath. My eyes shot open and I struggled to sit up, a

Author Cat Cavendish

second too late. I tried to scream, but water poured into my mouth. I thrashed out, desperate to find purchase. Something was weighing me down. Something I couldn’t see or hear. Blackness descended. I was drowning.

From somewhere, a new strength took hold of me, and with a huge push I emerged, coughing and spluttering, bathwater and saliva pouring from my nose and mouth as I took hold of the sides of the bath and hoisted myself out.

I stood on the sodden bathmat, bent double, retching and trying to catch my breath. I reached for the towel and buried my face in its reassuring softness. By the time the coughing subsided, my throat was raw, the lining of my nose burned, and my eyes stung. I was shaking all over.

Wrapped in the towel, I sat on the toilet and dried my face. My teeth started to chatter, even though I was warm. I looked at the bath. Water had splashed everywhere, splattering the wall tiles, turning the floor into a puddly mess. I shivered.

I had fallen asleep, I reasoned. That had been why I felt as if something was pulling me under. My brain had gone to sleep, so my muscles had ceased to function properly. It sounded plausible enough, and there couldn’t be any other explanation, could there?

If only I understood why I had smelled vanilla so strongly.

The Second Wife is available now from:

Amazon.com

Amazon.ca  

Amazon.co.uk

Barnes and Noble

Kobo 

You can find Cat here:

www.catherinecavendish.com

http://www.facebook.com/CatherineCavendish

www.goodreads.com as Catherine Cavendish

http://twitter.com/#!/cat_cavendish

Your blog hostess:

Sue Swift/Suz deMello

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at [email protected]

Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift

She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

 

 

Write This, Not That!

Write This, Not That! is the distillation of many hours at the computer, talking with critique partners, and absorbing the wisdom of better authors than I.
If you want to tighten your fiction writing, read this. It’s a CHEAP 99 cents and will be FREE February first and second.
Why should you read a writing manual authored by me? Well…a lot of people seem to think I know how to write. Others feel that this is a pretty good little book. And did I mention you can get it FOR FREE?

Still a doubter? Here’s a little info about me:

Sue Swift/Suz deMello

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients.
Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.
A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.
Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com
For editing services, email her at [email protected]
Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift
She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun