Saturday, May 30, 2015

'Morning Appetites: A Short Story Collection' by Natalia Ryder


*** A Hot and Steamy Short Story Collection ***

***The Real Work Begins***

Shannon and Devin have felt disconnected since they've worked opposite shifts. But this morning, they will reconnect like never before.

***A Second Round***

Lacey Malone meets Gavin Stone after a wild, no-holds-barred night out. She wakes up, sober and second guessing her night, until Gavin assures her there is no need to worry.

***The Customer is Always Right***

Candace is tired of her billionaire husband Brendan's busy schedule and the fact that he doesn't seem to have any time for her. Will she be able to finally get his attention, once and for all?

***Heating it Up***

Jasmine and Dustin are long time friends turned roomates. But afer being stuck inside during a major winter storm, they quickly find a way to heat things up.

Contains mature material intended for audiences 18 and older.

Author Bio: 

Natalia Ryder, a lifelong fan of film and books, hopes to create compelling love stories that are exciting, flirty and most of all, lots of fun.

'Saved by the Wolf (A BBW Shifter Romance)' by Marie Mason


Logan McCall had always wanted to be a family man—in spite of—his playboy reputation. Find his mate, have a few pups and settle down into a long, loving relationship sounded good, real good to him.

During a storm that rocked Chicago for three days, Logan found fate had a wicked sense of humor when it sent nurse Katie Wilson tumbling into his life. She was here for a weekend of loving with a man alright, just not with Logan.

How can he convince a woman that his reputation as Chicago’s hottest bachelor is all smoke and mirrors and that what he truly longs for is a mate and a family he can love and cherish.

Driving along a snow covered highway in the middle of a blizzard, Katie swore off men. It was a man who had put her in this dangerous situation. Well, a man and her stubborn pride. She’d been unwilling to waste the romantic getaway that had already been paid for at a scheduled mountain cabin just outside the city. So she decided to enjoy the weekend all by herself—if you didn’t count the adult toys she had packed in her suitcase and the multiple pints of ice cream she planned to buy on her way out of the city.

The last thing she’d been expecting on her binge-eating, binge-crying weekend was being Saved by the Wolf.

Read an excerpt:
For an instant, her hands fluttered helpless as she tried to figure out where to touch him. Then she remembered. She could touch him anywhere. He was hard as a rock—all over. She’d felt the proof of that not moments before. Katie’s hands explored his body, the corded muscles of his shoulders, the light mate of curling hair on his chest and the taunt planes of his abdomen. He truly had a spectacular physique. Powerful arms roped with muscles, layers of strength making his chest and shoulders wider than any other man she’d ever been around. 
He was strong and powerful. And hers? Somehow it just felt right to think that. Like the growl of a wolf she’d heard in her head last night, the image of one flashed through mind and she had no doubt she was seeing in his animal form.
 Also on Amazon UK

FREE on Kindle Unlimited, on sale for 99 cents 

Three wolves, three curvy women

The McCall Brother Trilogy

Read the series and Marie Mason's other BBW books here:

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Friday, May 29, 2015

Read an excerpt from 'Ting Tang Tony (Has Been Series)' by Kat DeSalle & Kristin Leigh Jones

rod blast banner pbt

TTTG-Strings, fake bodies, what lubricant to use, and which angle looks best on camera, these are all things Tony knows. What he doesn't know is how to pursue a real relationship, one outside the industry that's making him retire and leaving him behind. Tony DiMarco, aka Ting Tang Tony, made a big name for himself-- regardless of being small--in an industry where size truly does matter. He's had a long career hiding behind a camera lens where his shortcomings didn't affect him at all. At 38 he's forced to find a real life where hopefully size doesn't matter. The last place he thought his life would change is in Florida.

Tripping over the gorgeous and upstanding, Emily Grant, snaps him out of the pity-pot he is just about to take a bath in. However, having never dated outside the industry has him second-guessing everything. How would someone possibly want his "little engine that could"? Can Tony open up about his playboy-style career, and more importantly, can he overcome the insecurities that he's shoved aside his whole life?

Tony's got his work cut out for him, he needs to penetrate the walls Emily's built to protect herself and her own insecurities. Will she be able to handle Tony's crazy double life he's trying to hide from her, the one he lives back home in L.A.? There's a small chance it might work, that it might fit—something Tony certainly isn't used to. This may be his one opportunity to find that missing puzzle piece he's only been able to fantasize about.

The whirlwind journey these two set out on will keep you rooting for the underdogs, and teach you that it's not always the size of the package that's important—it's what's inside that matters most.

Genre: Romantic Comedy

Read an exclusive excerpt:
The air in Tampa tonight was sticky, and it felt like I was wading instead of walking my way down the sidewalk as sweat began to bead up across my skin. Welcome to fucking July in Florida. One of the only places where it can be pitch black outside and still feel like you walked out into a sauna. Why we didn’t have this pornfest reunion near our homes in southern California, where we normally filmed, was beyond me. I guess it was a good excuse to get away. I found it interesting that our industry gravitated to the only other state that sported as many fake tans, hard bodies, and augmentations as our home base.

As I rounded the corner I saw the modern lines of my hotel ahead and I had one thing on my mind: lying in bed. Ironic, because that’s what pretty much culminated my entire career. Tonight there would be no wild scenes or naked women screaming as they felt my skilled tongue licking up their waxed and bleached out holes.

Tonight I was alone. I only had a moment to wallow in my pity pot because my feet were suddenly lost under me as I tripped over something. Looking back I said, “Sorry man”, expecting to get an ear-full from a homeless dude pitching a cardboard tent for the night, but I sure as hell didn’t see anyone in my line of sight. I shook my head. I hadn’t drank that much, but to be fair, I was sort of daydreaming or living in my newly acquired and lonely retirement. I looked down to see what—or who—I tripped over, and saw a petite raven-haired woman. Apparently my tall ass just plowed her over. Fuck she was tiny—literarily she could have passed as one of Santa’s helpers, but in a sexy kind of way. I pushed aside the scantily clad, naughty elf images to gather my manners because I couldn’t leave her sprawled out on the ground dusting off the hem of her black mini-skirt. I followed the direction of her hands as she smoothed her skirt and noticed that, for a small woman, her legs were toned and perfectly shaped. I extended a hand, but it swallowed hers when she took my offer for help, and it took little effort to pull her upright. I hoped she wasn’t hurt. Damn, now I felt like a big dick. Guess there was a first time for everything.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” Shit, that was generic, but to be honest, I wasn’t thinking with the right head. 
This woman barely came up to my chest. I was serious about the elf-sized thing…. She just smiled at me and shook her head, her long dark hair trailing over her shoulders. 
“No, I’m sorry! I guess I had a little more to drink than I thought. Crap. I mean, geez, a couple glasses of wine shouldn’t bother me that much.” She laughed, and then stopped herself by clapping a hand over her mouth as if realizing she was showing me a nervous tell of hers. It was one of the cutest things ever. This girl was getting flustered—over me? 
“ Yeah, that happens too when I drink.” Her face scrunched up in frustration again, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. Blabbering or whatever she called it, I was eating up everything that came out of her sweet mouth—well at least I think it was sweet, her hand was still over it.

“You know, I’m gonna just chalk this up to office party side effects, continue like it never happened, and blame it on the alcohol.” She dropped her hand and smiled a genuine smile, her entire face illuminating and reflecting the light from the sad streetlamp and neon lights in business windows along the street. I wished I could see what color her eyes were. I wished I knew what she smelled like. Hell, I wished I knew a lot more things about her, but I was sure I already looked like a complete bumbling idiot—a clumsy bumbling idiot standing here open mouthed just staring at her.

I tried to play cool, but I may have been a bit buzzed too, or at least now I felt a little light-headed. “Hey, that sounds good to me. Well, um, have a great evening.” I started to move past her, continuing on to my hotel but a nagging feeling in my gut had me worried about her walking home alone. What if some other dude tripped over her and wasn’t half the guy I was? “Hey, do you want me to walk you home?” I offered, stopping my progress.

Her brows furrowed and an “O” shape took over her mouth, looking a little scared before she quickly masked it to a calm, normal one. She was probably thinking I was gonna try to take advantage of her, which I wasn’t planning on because I was far too much a gentleman to follow through, but I can’t deny that I wasn’t thinking about doing some very naughty unspeakable things to this adorable pixy-sized woman. I quickly amended, “I just mean, there’s a lot of weirdos out here, you okay to walk home?” 
She took a few steps back and stammered out, “Uh, no I’m fine. Really, I don’t live that far.” She looked around as if canvassing the area. “Really, I’m okay. I do this all the time.” She tucked some of that long, dark hair behind her ear. “I mean, I don’t walk home drunk all the time. Crap.” She sighed. “Okay, I’m just gonna go.” Turning away, the clicking sound of her heels quickened as she attempted to walk fast in the other direction. I noted the long pointy heels did little to bring her to an average height. I really couldn’t explain the knot of worry I had tangling in my stomach over her walking home by herself.

I watched for a minute longer and as she rounded the corner I caught her looking back over her shoulder. I was sure she was making certain I wasn’t following her. I shook my head. Don’t worry. I’m not a creeper, just a washed up porn star with a little dick and a gifted tongue.

Buy on Amazon


SMBOMTRod Stick—though his birth certificate says Rodney Moore— has everything a top-notch porn star ever wanted. Friends are his new family, money satisfies his every wish, and endless lines of willing and ready women fulfill any voids his jaded childhood left behind. Drugs and alcohol patch the remaining leaks those things can’t fix.

However, things are beginning to change. His friends and their bachelor lifestyle are fading in the hot L.A. sun. Irresponsible decisions and self-destructive actions have his career on the rocks. Like his best friend, Tony, he worries he’s going to be the next “has-been.” To complicate things further, a certain sexy and dangerous amber-haired stripper is changing him into another person—one that he isn't sure he can handle. They say you can’t make a “ho into a housewife.” But two hoes? There are better odds in Vegas.

Can Rod find the solace he searching for in his own private dancer, Crystal Amber? Settling down with her might close the door on that dark chapter of his life forever—the one he’s been running from since he was a kid. Or, will he lose himself and everyone else around him instead creating his own version of hell?

Sometimes our own light is hiding in dark places. Will Rod find his?

Genre: Romantic Erotica

Buy on Amazon


kat and kristin author photoAbout the Authors:

Kat DeSalle is one half of the crazy writing duo that created the HAS BEEN SERIES.

Born and raised in California, she graduated with a degree in Fine Art, which introduced her to a number of creative outlets. She dabbled in various jobs ranging from teaching art, to working in the finance industry. Ultimately, she found her passion in writing. Now, she lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and children, where she follows her dream of writing romance novels.

Friend Kat on Facebook:
Tweet Kat here: @KatDeSalle
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Kristin Leigh Jones is the wearer of many hats—not literally—although she does look good in one. From being a full-time mom, wife, chef, maid, dog walker, litter box scooper to owning a photography business and working as a freelance editor ... She now adds writer to her long resume. Between juggling all these tasks she squeezes in as much time as possible for snuggling her babies, reading, and watching football on Sundays in the fall. Da Bears! Hailing from the Midwest her whole life, she fully appreciates the change of seasons but admits to really only enjoying it less than 5 months of the year.

Kristin is very thankful to have found another half of her brain in her dear friend Kat. Who, might be thousands of miles away, is never farther than a text or a phone call. Together they make up the dynamic duo writing and producing the hilariously romantic and sexy Has Been Series.

Friend Kristin on facebook:
Tweet Kristin here: @k_leigh_jones
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For updates, contests, and news on the Has Been series check out these awesome links:
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'Two Princes: The Biker and the Billionaire' by Victoria Danann

Two Princes: The Biker and the Billionaire

by Victoria Danann 



Two brothers, one a player, one a playboy, are on a collision course with destiny and a woman who thought she won a prize when she was allowed a look inside the Sons of Sanctuary MC.

Brigid Roan is a graduate student at the University of Texas. She had no trouble getting her thesis approved, but finding a Hill Country motorcycle club willing to give her access to their lifestyle was looking impossible. Then she got a lead. A friend of a friend had a cousin with family ties to The Sons of Sanctuary.

What Brigid wanted was information to prove a proposition. The last thing she had in mind was falling for one of the members of the club. Especially since she was a feminist academic out to prove that motorcycle clubs are organized according to the same structure as primitive tribal society.

Brash Fornight was standing in line at the H.E.B. Market when his world tipped on its axis. While waiting his turn to check out, his gaze had wandered to the magazine display and settled on the new issue of “NOW”. The image on the cover, although GQ’d up in an insanely urbane way, was… him.

After reading the article, Brash threw some stuff in a duffle and left his only home, a room at The Sons of Sanctuary clubhouse, with a vague explanation about needing a couple of days away. He left his truck at the Austin airport and caught a plane for New York, on a mission to find a mysterious guy walking around with his face.

Read an excerpt:

“Sir?” Brash Fornight gradually became aware that someone behind him in the grocery checkout line was trying to get his attention. “Sir?” He refocused and glanced behind him. The woman leaning on a cart overflowing with chip bags and cookie boxes nodded toward the cashier indicating that it was his turn to move forward. Brash looked her in the eye and had to give her props. Most people wouldn’t have the balls to try to herd a guy wearing Sons of Sanctuary MC leather.
The club employed a woman who cooked and did grocery shopping several times a week as part of her job description, but Brash didn’t like to explain his relentless craving for peanuts and he liked being teased about it even less. He didn’t know whether it was the Vitamin B or the fat or just because he liked the taste, but he couldn’t imagine going a day without them.
That’s how he came to be standing statue still In the grocery checkout line, being prompted by some woman with more nerve than sense. While he was waiting, his eyes drifted over the magazine display and settled on the cover of “NOW”, on the Most Eligible Bachelor edition no less. The debonair figure staring back was wearing Brash’s own face and body. He looked different with short hair and a four thousand dollar suit with the shirt fashionably open at the neckline, but the similarity was inescapable.
On impulse he grabbed the magazine and tossed it onto the conveyor belt with his week’s stash of peanuts.
He stuffed the bags into the saddlebags of his bike and roared toward home, nervously tapping his fingers on handlebars at red lights, riding on shoulders to keep from slowing down. He was anxious to get to the privacy of his own room and read about Branach St. Germaine.
Two beers, one jar of peanuts, and one “NOW” article later, Brash was sitting on the edge of his bed looking at the wall, seeing nothing but his own heavy thoughts. He pulled out his phone, looked up a website, and waited on hold for ten minutes to hear the time of the next flight from Austin to New York.
There was a flight to Newark in a little over three hours. He looked at his watch and calculated the time it would take to drive from Dripping Springs at that time of day. As he booked the flight, he stood up, walked to the small closet, grabbed a duffel bag, and began shoving stuff into it. Ten minutes later, he closed his door and locked it, threw the duffel over his shoulder, and headed straight for the office downstairs. He dropped the duffel on the hallway floor beside the closed door and knocked.
“Yeah?” Brash looked inside, glad that his dad was by himself, and stepped in. “What’s up?”

“I’m takin’ personal time, Pop. Gonna be gone for a couple of days.”

“What the hell is ‘personal time’?”

The gruffness made Brash smile. “It means I’m not gonna be here if you call and I’m not tellin’ you why.”

The Sons of Sanctuary President looked up at Brash, over the top of his readers, and narrowed his eyes. “You got a secret?”

“Everybody’s got secrets.”

Brandon Fornight studied his son for a minute. “True enough. Is it the kind of secret that could affect this club?”

Brash shook his head. “Don’t see how.”

“Well, then. See you… When did you say you’d be back?”

“I didn’t.”

“Bein’ purposefully vague, are you?”

Brash grinned. “That’s why they call it personal time. But I expect to be back Friday.”

“You gonna have your phone with you?” When Brash nodded, Bran looked back down at his ledger in a deliberately dismissive gesture. “Well, get outta here then.”

Brash parked his bike in the airplane hangar. The structure had already been on the property when the club had bought it and turned it into a compound twenty years earlier. They used part of it for vehicle maintenance and repair and part for parking.

Some of the guys who were working looked over and shot curious glances his way when Brash threw his duffel into his pickup and started it up, but it wasn’t their way to ask questions. The Sons figured that if somebody wanted you to know something, they’d tell you.
Brash took a cab to a midtown hotel, wondering all the way why human beings would choose to live in such a place. As he slid his credit card across the hotel counter to the agent on duty, he glanced at the name, Brandon Fornight. It seemed unlikely that it was a coincidence that that the mysterious look-alike’s first name began with the same four letters. He ordered room service and pulled out his laptop.
Getting intel on the guy didn’t take advanced ops. Within an hour Brash knew where Brannach St. Germaine worked, what kind of car he drove, what kind of women he dated, who his tailor was, and where he liked to dine. There was no shortage of photos online, but the one that grabbed his attention wasn’t one of the many with starlets or debutantes on his arm. It was the one taken with his arm around his mother as they were arriving together for some red carpet fundraiser. Brash had an almost irresistible compulsion to reach up and touch her face on the screen in front of him.

The knock on the door signaled that room service had arrived. It cost a fortune, but looked and tasted like shit. So he closed the computer and went out for a walk to clear his head and find something edible.

Author Bio and Links:

USA TODAY Bestselling Author.

The Order of the Black Swan has won BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE SERIES TWO YEARS IN A ROW (2013, 2014). Reviewers Choice Awards, The Paranormal Romance Guild.

Victoria writes cross-genre with uniquely fresh perspectives on paranormal creatures, characters, and themes. She is making her debut into contemporary romance with publication of the SUMMER FIRE ultimate romance collection anthology with the intro to the Sons of Sanctuary MC series. The first novel of that will be released June 16, 2015









Victoria will be awarding a copy of the memoirs of Ash Armand, the celebrity who appears on the cover of Two Princes to 3 randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter during the tour, and a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn host. Follow the tour for more chances to win!

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Thursday, May 28, 2015

'Fidel Castro Is Dead' by Pradeep Persaud

"A Poignant Tale of Love and Family trapped in a meandering narrative." - Kirkus Reviews

The debut novel of Pradeep Persaud.

Beginning in 1975, this odyssey about love, life, and laughter transpires over three decades, and follows the lives of two childhood friends turned lovers from the height of the Cold War to the depths of 9/11, from the dawn of the World Wide Web to the madness of the dotcoms, and from unimaginable wealth to unrelenting destitution before climaxing in a bizarre and ironic twist.

Triumphs and tragedies; premonitions and nightmares; dramatic twists of plot and gut-busting laughter form the backdrop to the ever-powerful attraction between these two individuals whose lives are perpetually affected, for better or for worse, by extraordinary events beyond their control.

This Tragicomedy transports readers from coastal South America to bustling Manhattan; from laid-back California to roaring Niagara Falls; and from Mexico and Europe to the secluded beaches off the coast of Thailand, while constantly raising the question, ‘What is the meaning of it all?’

The story is told in the second and third person POVs.

About the author:

Pradeep Persaud, an electrical engineer, has worked for many years in the hi-technology industry, both in the designing and marketing of primarily cellular phones, but also on other wireless and semiconductor products. He’s a world traveler. Fidel Castro is Dead is his first novel.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Meet Aussie author Nhys Glover, plus a #FREE read!

About Nhys Glover

After a lifetime of teaching others to appreciate the written word, Aussie author Nhys Glover finally decided to make the most of the Indie Book Revolution to get her own written word out to the world. Now, with more than 100,000 of her ebooks downloaded internationally and a winner of 2013 SFR Galaxy Award for 'The Titan Drowns', Nhys finds her words, too, are being appreciated.
At home in the beautiful Yorkshire Dales of England, Nhys these days spends most of her time "living the dream" by looking out over the moors from her window as she writes the kind of novels she loves to read. The ones that are a little bit steamy, a little bit different and wholly romantic.

You can find out more about Nhys and her books by visiting her brand new website at

Catch her on social media:

Amazon / Facebook / Twitter / Pinterest / Goodreads

Get started on her books for free!


Shy and insecure Pia Rogaland wants nothing more than to save the children. For feisty Elish Cork, it’s the promise of adventure that drives her to commit. And Karl Ontario? He’s a lab geek who never dreamed of stepping outside his medical facility, until the mission to save doomed children on the ill-fated Titanic is proposed and Fate compels him to step up.

While each joins the team for a different reason, they all face the same challenges: How do they identify suitable targets for retrieval to their endangered Utopian world? Once identified, how do they avoid being labelled insane when they attempt to convince those targets that the "unsinkable" Titanic is about to sink and their only hope of survival is to time travel to the future? And if that isn’t enough, how do they each then deal with finding and possibly losing the love of a lifetime in a few, fateful days? For sweet Pia, who falls in love with a man she’s not allowed to save, this last challenge might prove her undoing.

As the clock ticks down to disaster, will any of the ill-fated victims of the Ship of Dreams live long enough to be part of the salvation of the human race, or will more lives be forfeited trying to carry out this audacious mission?

'Summer Fire: An Anthology' by Various Authors

SUMMER FIRE: An Anthology

by Gennita Low, Stacey Mosteller, R.J. Lewis, L. Wilder, Victoria Danann, Kym Grosso, Cat Miller, Mimi Barbour, Clarissa Wild, Teresa Gabelman, Linda Barlow, Helen Scott Taylor, Victoria James, Mona Risk, Patrice Wilton, Joan Reeves, Danielle Jamie, Terri Marie, Lorhainne Eckhart , Brandy L. Rivers, Nicole Blanchard


21 ALL NEW Contemporary Romance stories by NY Times, USA Today, and National Bestselling authors.

Love when it’s hot? So do we. Especially when we’re writing about gritty alphas, angsty bad boys, sizzling attraction, and unrequited passion. So loosen your buttons, turn the fan to oscillate and join us for this steamy, groundbreaking bundle of summer tales that are hot hot hot.

Read an excerpt from "A Season in Gemini" by Victoria Danann 

Garland pulled up in front of her building, grabbed the rolling suitcase with essential stuff, smiled at Max, the doorman, and gave him the car keys so that he could have the car parked in a two thousand dollars per month garage spot nearby. She might not use it again for weeks, or even months, but it was nice to know she could.

“I’m home!” She took a deep breath and called out to anyone who might be in the flat. Since it was Sunday that would probably be either her father or no one.

She walked the length of the kitchen and beyond to a small, but elegant and sunny breakfast room that overlooked Central Park and was rarely seen by anyone other than the two living St. Germaines and staff.

“I say, ‘I’m home!’”, she repeated as she flopped into a chair opposite where her dad was having coffee and reading the paper.

David St. Germaine looked over the top of the Wall Street Journal. “So I see.”

“Wow. Welcome home.”

He slid a section of the Sunday Times toward where she sat across the glass top table. “I second the ‘wow’.”

Before looking down at whatever he wanted her to see, she could tell that he was the farthest thing from happy. When she’d seen him two days before at graduation, he’d been delighted. He and his date for the day. Garland didn’t remember her name. There was no point. Her father rarely saw women more than once.

On the cusp of fifty, he was still handsome, with a little silver above his ears and a tan that never faded completely because he made a point of sailing twice a month, when weather and business permitted. He’d been referred to as ‘eligible bachelor’ in the, ahem, society pages more than once, but Garland doubted the veracity of that claim. Since her mother’s death, he hadn’t given anyone reason to think he was ‘eligible’.

Garland tore her eyes away from his scowl, not his most attractive expression, to look at the paper in front of her. The front and center color image was none other than herself wearing a short sparkly dress that had ridden far too high as she fell backwards spilling a colorful beverage when she went sprawling into the laps of laughing friends.

The headline read, “Germane Enterprises Princess Out on the Town. Daddy’s little girl lets her hair down and her skirt up.”

As she stared at the page, her father said, “Nice dress,” in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

Without looking up, she said quietly, “We were just having some fun. We just graduated…”

“How many times have I told you that what you do reflects on me? And, by extension, on Germane Enterprises?”

She met his glare. “Thousands.”

“That’s right! Thousands. You would think a girl capable of graduating Dartmouth summa cum laude would get it after mere dozens of times.”

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Monday, May 25, 2015

'Stepbrother Magic (Wonders of a Witch Book 1)' by Jessica Bryant


In the faraway, mysterious land of Naguar, matters are governed with an iron fist and none suffer this steely wrath worse than the Witches. Humans born with various magical abilities - abilities whose use is strictly forbidden, on punishment of death - the Witches are regarded as monsters, born of sin. Over the centuries, these "monsters" had been hunted to near extinction or so it appeared that way by the Inquisition.

Slaughter reigned until the humans prevailed and established their fanatic, ruling dynasty; though the Inquisition's hunt goes on. And so, the Witches must live in utter secrecy, among the human population, hiding their abilities for fear of execution.

Isabel and her Stepbrother Kannis are forced to hide more secret than one.

Read an excerpt:
Stifling a loud moan, I finished my “bath”. Though, as I stepped out, wrapping myself in a light robe, I felt unfulfilled. The waters had gone cold but there was still a smoldering heat within me. 
Entering my room, I let my robe fall to the floor wantonly and turned to examine myself in the mirror. But then, I noticed the door ajar, and before I could react, through the crack I saw Kannis looking up from his book, right into my room. 
His mouth hung open as his eyes poured over my naked form. I was about to retrieve my robe when I paused. Kannis stood, seemingly readying himself to close our adjoining door. He was hesitating for far too long, however, for his body to deny what I knew he wanted. The events in the forest had shown me that he needed a push. I sauntered over and pushed the door wide open. Then, turning around, I bent over to retrieve my robe, and was a long time retrieving it, just to make sure my Stepbrother was adequately enticed.

Bio -

Jessica Bryant is a passionate writer, reader, traveler, and lets her imagination run wild on the pages. Bryant loves to write stories which captivate her readers and leave them with a burning desire for more.

Thursday, May 21, 2015

'EEK! I'm a Woman' by Dee Dawning


Match making angel, Madame Suriano and her feisty, freshly winged, sidekick get into some mischief in this, Suriano's latest caper. After the associate transforms the bodies of Brad and Ginger, our hero and heroine, following a night of passionate lovemaking, they kick some serious ass and then go on to… Nuh-uh, you know I can't tell you that.

Buy links


If you like warmth, live in Arizona like Dee Dawning does. If you like to read hot sexy stories born and raised in the sweltering summer heat of Arizona, check out his scribblings. Dee has been writing saucy romance stories and novels for seven years. At this time he has over forty titles available. Dee and his lovely wife currently reside in Cave Creek Arizona, where he writes a novella every three-to-four months and a novel every eight months.

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Read Chapter 5 of 'Only Wheat Not White (Love Beyond Borders)' by Varsha Dixit


What if the one you completely love is the one you simply can't!

Twenty-six-year-old Eila Sood moves to America to mend fences with her estranged older sister, Sheela. Eila and the rest of the family in India had cut off ties with Sheela after she married Steve Jacobs, 'out of caste, and out of color'.

Elia soon realizes that Sheela's marriage is on the rocks. To help pay Sheela's household bills, Eila takes a second job at an afternoon strip club. When she crosses paths with the owner, the handsome Brett Wright or 'blue-eyed ogre' as Elia calls him, he both infuriates and fascinates her. Brett turns out to be her reluctant and unquestionably sarcastic knight in shining armor.

As Eila and Brett spend more time together their desire for each other builds. However, when Brett discovers the true reason for Eila's refusal he storms out of her life, accusing her of being a prejudiced coward.

Will Eila find the courage to break stereotypes and embrace her love? Will Brett find solace in the arms of his ex-girlfriend Cate?

Will Sheela and Steve divorce? All of these questions and more are answered in best selling author Varsha Dixit's latest, steamy love story.

Read Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Brown Paper Bag
“Sorry!” Sheela murmured sheepishly.
Next Sheela anointed Eila’s forehead with the turmeric and red powder. “Enough, Di!” Eila feebly attempted to ward off the rice Sheela showered on her. Aryan and Adam gawked from behind Sheela’s legs. Eila noticed that Steve had gone back to the SUV.
Eila quickly stepped inside the house. Di’s house! A warm feeling swelled in Eila’s chest. Steve’s house too! That little reminder stirred some coolness into the warmth.
Sheela gestured at Eila to move past the foyer. Eila did and ended up getting tangled in a net apparition complete with bells and beads.
“What the...” Irked, Eila disentangled her body from the multiple strings that hung as a curtain partition between the living room and foyer. “From the Indian stores at Oak Tree, New Jersey.” Sheela informed as Eila yanked the last of the blue shiny beads clinging to her hair.
They were now in a small living room, sporting elegant beige furniture. Eila walked through the living room that gave way to a larger area with the kitchen on one side and a family room on the other. Glass doors at the end of the family room led to the backyard. Eila caught glimpses of well trimmed grass and flower beds. Between the living room and kitchen area was a staircase that led to the second floor. The downstairs rooms were painted in warm colors of robin’s egg blue and pastel green. Black and white portraits of the boys were artistically arranged on the walls. Eila saw no other family in the pictures, not even one of Sheela and Steve.
“Very nice, Di,” Eila complimented.
“Thanks!” Sheela beamed.
Running footsteps heralded the arrival of the boys.
“Aryan, please take off your shoes and help Adam take off his!”
Sheela shepherded the boys to a closet behind the stairs.
Eila saw Steve enter with her bags. He too had a problem with the
string curtains between the foyer and living room. Eila moved to help him but he shrugged her away. “I got it.” Dragging the bags, he took the stairs. Eila wanted to follow him but then decided to wait for Sheela.
The sisters followed Steve. The staircase ended at a landing that had been set up like a home office. Opposite the landing was a corridor with several white doors on either side. Eila saw Steve disappear into the first door on the left.
Sheela led Eila into the same room. The room was small but quaintly done. It housed a wrought iron bed with a geometric bedspread in pastel pink and blue. The wooden floor was dark in color. A chest of drawers with a mirror stood in the corner. Once Eila’s bags occupied the floor, there wasn’t much space to move around.
Next to the bed was a small oval table on which sat a pretty and colorful Tiffany lamp. Instinctively, Eila knew it was no coincidence that the lamp had been set next to her bed. Their mother loved Tiffany style lamps and their house back in India was peppered with such lamps. She gave Sheela a warm smile.
“It’s not much.” Sheela appeared sheepish. Back home they were used to a lot more and Sheela remembered that.
“No worries. It’s perfect. Very cozy,” Eila countered moving to the side to make room for Steve.
He maneuvered his large frame out of the tiny room. Eila heard his heavy footsteps go down the stairs. She said hesitantly. “Silent kind, huh?” Sheela didn’t defend or accuse her husband. Her answer was a
peculiar deadpan smile. Eila found that smile and accompanying expression eerie.
The very next minute, Sheela changed the topic. “So how’s everyone at home?”
Eila’s sigh was one of suffering. “That’s the third time you’ve asked me. They’re fine. Everyone’s just become a little older, except for Tina. She’s stuck in a time warp, refusing to grow up!”
Sheela’s smile was sentimental. “You two are still at it? My memories of home seem to be all about mediating between you and Tina.” She parked her rump on the corner of the bed.
“Now we kind of mediate ourselves. By the way, the brat, Tina is now a super smart businesswoman adeptly handling the family business of textile import and export.”
“What are you saying? Wow! Tina is handling the business?”
Eila’s smile was smug. “Actually she doesn’t just handle the business; she runs it!”
Sheela nodded, impressed.

“And you, Di? How are you coping? Your life has changed drastically.”
Sheela avoided looking at Eila as she answered. “Things have been great. Very busy with the boys and all.”
Well, good for you! Ever missed your other family? The one that you were born into? Your two younger sisters? Remember them at all? With some effort Eila shut out her angry thoughts. Their sudden appearance surprised her. With a jerk, Eila moved to her suitcases. “Work for another day! Work for another day!” she chanted under her breath.
Sheela leaned forward. “What?”
Eila flashed an overtly bright smile. “Where do you work? That’s what I was asking.”
Sheela shifted on the bed. “Um, I don’t. I’m a stay-at-home mom.” To Eila’s ears Sheela’s small laugh at the end of the words sounded strained.
Slack jawed, Eila stared at her. She quickly recovered. Her eyes still held shock. “You, you don’t work? The ambitious, totally career driven libertarian of our family does not work? Why?”
Sheela’s smile was wry. “It got very hard with the kids. One of us had to be at home for them. As it is Steve works crazy long hours.”
Of course, he does. Eila persisted. “So you gave up your career?”
Sheela slid off the bed. “It’s just temporary. Aryan and Adam need me.” Her smile forced, Sheela changed the topic. “Let me show you the bathroom. Are you hungry?”
Eila shook her head. “No, not really. I’ll unpack first and take a shower. Then food.” She let Sheela change the topic. More subjects were finding their way into Eila’s work-for-another-day list.
“I can help you with the unpacking.” Sheela was already on her knees working the latch of one suitcase.
“Oh! Okay.” Eila joined Sheela on the floor. For nearly an hour they worked side by side making mundane conversation and stacking things in appropriate nooks and corners. Their parents were deliberately left out of the discussion. They were down to the last of Eila’s bags.
“What’s this?” Sheela’s hands stilled. Between Eila’s clothes she encountered a brown paper package.
“Mom sent a few things for Aryan and Adam,” Eila replied, sitting back on her haunches.
“She did?” Sheela whispered, awestruck. Her eyes shone as she delicately turned the package around in her hands. Then she brought it to her face and smelled it deeply. Caressing the brown paper, Sheela murmured, “You know, El, I wasn’t expecting anything, but I guess I was hoping. Thank you.” Sheela glanced up, her hazel eyes luminous. Staring straight into Eila’s eyes, she spoke softly. “Sometimes I feel like such an orphan.”
“You are not!” Eila’s voice was gruff.
Sheela’s smile was watery. Holding the package with one hand, she jerked to her feet. Keeping her face turned away, Sheela said, “The bathroom is the next door on your left. You’ll have to share it with the boys. Or you can use ours.”
“That’s fine, I’ll share with the boys.”
“Let me see what Aryan and Adam are up to.” Clinging to the package, Sheela made a quick getaway. “Come down when you’re done. We’ll eat then.”
It took all of fifteen minutes for Eila to put away the rest of her stuff and slide her empty suitcases under her bed. Grabbing a small towel, she tentatively entered the bathroom armed with a leather vanity pouch.
Gingerly, she stepped into the bathtub to take a shower in front of an audience. Yup! An audience all right! A large green frog with a fierce smile, an ogling orange fish and an assortment of rubber action figures holding an array of miniature arms. They were lined up neatly on all three sides of the tub and looked straight at Eila’s naked body. “Perverts!” She grinned and turned the faucet on.
As Eila made her way downstairs, she heard loud voices. She froze. Eila overheard Sheela ask out loudly, “Why did you make sandwiches for them? I had cooked dinner. All you had to do was warm it.”
Steve’s voice was low but caustic. “They did not want to eat that. They wanted something else. Anything else!”
“Really! You or them, Steve?” Sheela accused.
“Sure, me too. That food tastes awful.”
“Yes, it tastes awful because it’s not meatballs and spaghetti or ribs
dripping with sauce or some other awful fat-laden dish you are used to eating.”
“Don’t bring my mother into this,” Steve snapped.
“And Aryan and Adam’s mother is fair game?” Sheela was quick to retort.
Eila heard a thump and then Steve yelled. “You know what, I’m sick of this food. Just make it for yourself and your sister. The boys and I will eat something else.”
“As long as you are in this house, everyone will eat what I make.” Sheela sounded equally mad.
“Another reason for me not to be here,” Steve responded forcefully.
After a very long minute, while Eila held her breath, Sheela responded indifferently, “No one’s stopping you.” Eila heard Steve’s heavy steps coming in her direction; he was probably heading for the front door. Crap! Eila softly hotfooted it to the landing and crouched down behind the banister. Without breaking stride, Steve walked past the stairs.
Eila heard the front door slam and then a few minutes later a vehicle roared to life. She came down the stairs and headed to the kitchen. She found Sheela rinsing some dishes.
“Di?” Even to her ears Eila’s voiced sounded like that of a worried child.

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Author Bio:

"Varsha, a best selling author of four highly successful books, thinks of herself as a dreamer who thinks deep but writes light. A true 'feel good' junkie seeking quick fixes, Varsha loves a good laugh, good movie and a good book, in that order.A voracious reader of murder and grotesque mysteries, she did sit down to pen a book on serial killer but finding it impossible to maim or hurt anyone, even on paper, she penned a romantic story instead. Even though creativity is gender free,Varsha feels blessed and enriched to be a woman.Currently, with her family, Varsha resides in CA, USA."