Congratulations to Katerina Ross on your new release!

Add to Goodreads

The Sons of Gomorrah is a paranormal M/M series set in Prague. It’s a beautiful city where anything magical might happen…but sometimes it’s dark magic.

For Tristan Todorov, formerly a freelance magician and now a consultant on occult matters, living with an incubus turns out to be rather challenging. Not only because there’s little information on incubi, Gomorrah pleasure demons. Jarek, the one he has a contract with, has a fiery personality and a dark past, and sometimes he’s a mystery Tristan can’t decipher.

When Tristan ends up in possession of an illegal artifact with peculiar powers, he hopes it might help him and Jarek to finally understand each other. Will it be a blessing indeed—or a curse that might put them both in danger?

Purchase links:

The Sons of Gomorrah on Amazon

Angel’s Eye on Amazon / Smashwords/ Evernight Publishing

Excerpt:

In the shower, Tristan discovered there was a bruise where Jarek had been gripping his hip, in addition to the hickeys. He poked at it experimentally. It was strangely enticing, to be marked like that. He wouldn’t mind if Jarek joined him, like he often did, and explored his skin under the hot spray in search for more marks of the same origin, but Jarek stayed away this time and Tristan couldn’t muster enough cheekiness to call him.

During breakfast, they always bumped into each other in the tiny kitchen, and Tristan liked it. Particularly when Jarek wore nothing but boxers, like now, and sometimes even less. Today, however, Jarek kept his distance, and it was a tad worrying, but Tristan withheld from commenting on it.

It wasn’t until Tristan started washing the dishes when Jarek finally slipped closer. Very close. He caged Tristan in against the counter, one arm on each side of his body, not quite pinning him but also not giving him anywhere to go. He licked a swath of skin below Tristan’s ear, which was a nice way to start a conversation.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I? Tonight.”

Maybe it was easier for him to talk when Tristan wasn’t looking.

It was the same for Tristan. If it made Jarek forget his nightmare, he didn’t mind a little rough, and he had no problem with saying that, face to face. But he had something else to admit, and it was better doing it like this.

“Uh. I liked it, actually.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Jarek whispered into his nape. His hands hiked up Tristan’s t-shirt, slid underneath it, but not demanding this time, just tenderly wandering up and down Tristan’s flanks. “I … you see, it wasn’t … I wouldn’t normally…”

Jarek seemed to be uncharacteristically out of words.

Tristan turned, facing him now, but still pinned to the counter by Jarek’s whole body.

“It’s really fine. I know you would have stopped if I said I didn’t like it.”

Jarek avoided his gaze.

“I’m usually more … calculating. In the sense, how would it feel for you if I do this, how you’re going to respond if I do that. I’m not supposed to be…”

“…enjoying yourself?”

“More like losing control. Don’t get me wrong, I get off on this kind of scheming. I guess it’s natural for incubi, watching for reactions, striving to get it right. It’s part of the fun, doing a detective’s work while shagging. Or a psychologist’s. So I’m enjoying myself perfectly well. But tonight … it was a bit egotistic, wouldn’t you say?”

Tristan leaned in to nip at Jarek’s lower lip, rubbed his nose against Jarek’s. “Hey, it’s called spontaneous sex.”

Jarek sighed like he hadn’t been entirely convinced, but answered with a slow open-mouthed kiss to Tristan’s chin, licking down his neck after that to lave at the spots where he’d left suck marks last night.

“Sorry about those,” he murmured. He sounded genuinely apologetic.

Tristan let out a small laugh, embarrassed to confess they fascinated him. “That could be a way to tell us two from each other, I guess.”

“You could mark me, too, if you want,” Jarek suggested, but there was unusual hesitancy in his voice.

About the author:

Katerina Ross lives in Russia and works as a journalist. There are no M/M romance publishers in her country, so she writes hot and kinky M/M stories in English.

Author Web Links:

Facebook / Blog / Website

Congratulations to Harley Wylde on your new release!

Publisher: JCS Books
Cover Artist: Jessica Smith
Genres/Themes: Rockstar, New Adult, Erotic

JACE

When Sinful Seduction made it big, my life changed, and not always in awesome ways. The groupies were great at first, until one decided to fake a pregnancy and claim the kid was mine. My bandmates had my back, and while the woman backed down fast when I demanded a paternity test, it still shook me. I knew it was time for another change, one where I kept my pants zipped. And then I saw her across the bar… the goddess with golden waves, and her sexy little librarian outfit. I knew she was different, and I wanted to make her mine. Should have known better than to get drunk in Vegas. You know how they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? Bullshit. Total and complete bullshit. But maybe this time my mistake will turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.

HONEY

I dumped my cheating fiancée, hopped a plane to Vegas, and hit the latest writer’s convention. On what should have been my wedding day, I was throwing back drinks like they were fruit punch. To be fair, they probably had fruit punch in them. When I woke up the next morning with a hard body pressed to mine, and a silver band on a very important finger, I thought I’d screwed up more than ever before. Imagine my surprise when the wannabe rocker I married turned out to be even more famous than me — and wait for it — he wanted to stay married! Even with a battered heart, I still believed in happily-ever-after, but what could a rock star and a romance author have in common?

Chemistry… Intense, curl your toes, melt your panties chemistry. Relationships have been based on worse, right?

*WARNING: If you don’t like foul-mouthed bad boys, lots of hot sex, and an accidental marriage, then you should probably skip this book.

Available at Bookstrand, Amazon, B&N, Kobo, and iTunes

Excerpt

(c) 2018, Harley Wylde
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

JACE

I stared into the crowd, their faces and writhing bodies a blur under the multi-hued lights. Sweat rolled down my temples and my spine as the lyrics poured out of me, more out of habit than passion. Fierce Seduction had been at the top of the charts for the past year as we’d toured the country. My fingers flew over the strings of my guitar, the riffs to the songs coming as easy as the women screaming my name. I couldn’t look at them without seeing her face, the stupid cunt who thought she was going to catch herself a one-way ticket to stardom.

It had been the week from hell. A groupie I’d fucked nearly a damn year ago contacted my manager, threatening to go public if I didn’t pay her a million dollars to keep quiet. She claimed the baby she’d had two weeks before was my son, but I knew better. I was super fucking cautious when it came to fucking the whores who threw themselves at me. I not only wore a condom, but I usually pulled out too. No way in hell I was getting trapped by some gold-digging bitch.

Fuck. Would this concert never end? We were playing Vegas, and the venue was sold out. It was our last show before heading home on Monday. The band had agreed we’d play Friday night, then fuck around for two days on the strip before flying back to L.A. Best fucking idea ever. I wasn’t big into gambling, but the bar at the Bellagio was calling my name. I was certain they had several bottles of vodka with my name on them. I just hadn’t decided if I was celebrating the fact that the kid wasn’t mine or trying to drown myself over the fuckery that was my life. When you’d fucked enough women that they all blurred together, and your reputation was so tattered those same women thought they could blackmail you, then maybe it was time to get off the merry-go-round.

The last few bars of the song played out, our final for this show, and I couldn’t wait to get the hell off the stage. The fans screamed and catcalled, all of them wanting a piece of us. It had been a thrill a minute when the stardom had first hit. I couldn’t believe how lucky we’d been, or that we were finally riding the top of the charts. There was this huge rush when we took the stage, or when some hot college girl tossed her panties at me, or better yet, informed me she wasn’t wearing any. I’d definitely earned my reputation as a panty dropper. I’d been proud as hell of the way women fawned all over me, until that wake-up call last week. Nothing can kill your buzz quicker than some chick claiming she got knocked up with your kid, some faceless stranger you fucked and forgot. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I’d ever learned her name before bending her over.

Backstage, I snagged a bottle of water and guzzled the entire damn thing. Tossing it into the trash, I braced myself for what came next. The adoring fans who had backstage passes. A VIP room had been set up for the occasion, and I knew those women only wanted one thing. To lay claim to one of us for the night, hell, even for an hour.

“You in a hurry to get your dick wet?” Simon asked with a leer. “A room full of free pussy, and it’s all ours for the taking.”

“I’m signing some autographs then I’m getting the fuck out of here,” I said as I stormed down the hallways toward a fate worse than death.

“Since when do you turn away free pussy?”

“Since Rochelle.” I’d tried not to utter that cunt’s name, but it was ingrained in my memory ever since I’d gotten the letter from her attorney.

Simon winced. “That was some rotten luck, but it all worked out. You demanded that paternity test and proved her to be the fucking liar that she is. You’re not going to let one woman fuck with your head like that, are you?”

I shrugged and pushed through the doors to the VIP room. The squeals and shrieks assaulted my ears as about six pairs of hands reached for me. Revulsion rolled through me as I looked at their too-heavy makeup and skin tight clothes. Why had I ever been attracted to women like these? They were desperate and didn’t care who they hurt, as long as they got what they wanted. Me.

Signing whatever they thrust my way—paper, water bottles, boobs—I finally made my way through the crowd and out the doors on the opposite side. When I rushed outside of the venue, I ignored the screaming fans, trusting that security would keep them off my back while I disappeared into the night. I took several detours, making sure I wasn’t followed, and finally arrived at the Bellagio. I’d stayed here before when I wasn’t touring with the band, and as I stepped inside, it felt like the building was welcoming me back. The place was packed, but I managed to find a spot at the end of the bar. Hopefully out of sight of everyone but the bartender.

I motioned for him to come over and ordered six shots of vodka. They burned on the way down as I slammed one after another. It would take a hell of a lot more to get me shitfaced, but it was a decent start. The next hour blurred as I downed everything from vodka to whiskey to Jagermeister. I felt warm, and loose, and completely blissed out by the time I noticed her.

My eyes took in the neat updo and the prim glasses perched on her nose. The way she sipped at the fruity drink in front of her made me think this wasn’t her usual scene. The dress she had on was sexy yet sedate. Fuck if she didn’t make me burn hotter than the god damn sun. Her lips, a succulent berry color, fit around the straw of her red drink, and I watched as her gaze flitted around the room. The jackass next to her was so fucking drunk he nearly knocked her off the barstool twice, earning the creep a glare that would have made a cross nun proud. I half expected her to whip out a ruler and rap his knuckles with it.

Whoever this angel was, I knew I wanted to find out more about her, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to do that sitting way over here. I shouldered my way through the crowd and shoved the drunk off his stool before claiming it for myself. She blinked up at me in surprise, the blue depths of her eyes pulling me in. The angel licked her lips as she leaned a little closer.

Holy Hell.

“Thank you,” she murmured, a slight slur to her words. Just how many of those drinks had she had?

“I won’t knock you off your stool, but I can’t promise I won’t sweep you off your feet.”

What. The. Fuck. Did that shit really just come out of my mouth?

She giggled, and her cheeks flushed pink. It was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. She had this sexy librarian vibe going and my fingers itched to get her out of that dress. Was she wearing plain cotton underneath or something lacy and hot as fuck? I’d never chased a woman before, but this little beauty was enough to knock me to my knees. Yeah, I’d gladly worship at the altar of…

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Honey.”

My eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Honeysuckle. My mother was a hippy.”

Oh yeah, I’d gladly worship at the altar of Honey.

“Jace,” I said, holding out my hand.

About Harley

International Bestselling Author.
When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.

Visit Harley on her website, or you can follow her on BookBub or Amazon!

Congratulations to Elodie Parkes on your new Christmas release!

Thank you for inviting me to your blog with new release, MM romance, Snowflake Wine.

The story is contemporary gay romance with an edge of fantasy, especially written as a sweet but sexy Christmas treat.

Jamie Snow and Nathan Bloom, my characters are as usual, dear to me.

Jamie has battled all his life with his strange, fantastic gift. His is the character that brings the element of fantasy to the story. The inspiration behind the creation of this character came, weirdly enough, in the summer, when I visited a ruined abbey. In the grounds were flowering shrubs that I’d never encountered before. From a distance, the flowers looked like frost, and as I drew close, into my mind came the idea of Jamie, a sprite who loves cold, ice, frost, and to comfort himself in the warm weather, he decorated the shrubs with frost flowers.

Nathan Bloom is the perfect partner for Jamie—gorgeous, calm, loving and open. He’s looking for love. He’s onto Jamie’s gifts long before he lets Jamie know it. This is a love story—romantic, sexy, hopeful.

Hunky Nathan Bloom works late for the company putting up the town Christmas lights and decorations.

Gorgeous, enigmatic, Jamie Snow works late forecasting the weather from his desk in the meteorology office.

Nathan sighs over the prospect of a holiday season with no one to love.

Jamie wonders if he’ll ever find a man to love who will accept his mysterious origins and talents.

One cold night, as Nathan finishes hoisting the wreath lights up the building where Jamie works, they meet.

The brilliant festive lights aren’t the only things to sparkle as the two men connect on a deep level.

Be delighted by a delicious, contemporary, gay romance with an edge of fantasy this season.

Sometimes being different is awesome.

Buy the book:

http://mybook.to/SnowflakeWine

Read a teaser:

Jamie Snow sat alongside Nathan. He glanced across at the man who stirred his frosty heart. He’s so attractive. Jamie hadn’t loved in a long time. He felt more than ready for it—longed for it on lonely nights. He wasn’t about to give up on the chance that this man might want a lover, that he was gay wasn’t in question. No straight guy looked the way he had at another man.

“My name’s Jamie, Jamie Snow.” He softened his voice as he spoke. The man beside him inspired tenderness and he felt a little prick of guilt. Using the weather to flirt with him had been inspired but maybe a little naughty.

Nathan drove the truck into a wide car lot that Jamie hadn’t known existed behind the furniture store on the end of the main street. “Here we are. The store allows us to leave the bigger rigs here every year. Jamie Snow—that’s an interesting name for a meteorologist—mine’s Nathan Bloom.”

Jamie’s smile infused his tone. “Yes. People tease me sometimes at work, they’ll know we’ve forecast it and as I walk by they’ll say, ‘here comes the snow,’ but I don’t mind. I like this name.”

“You’ve had others?” Nathan asked with a laugh.

Jamie didn’t want to reply. He waited. I won’t be lying to this lovely guy if I don’t answer. 

Nathan turned off the truck engine and twisted to talk to Jamie. “It’s a cool name. Where do you live?”

It appeared he’d forgotten his question.

Happiness trickled into Jamie’s soul that the attractive man beside him liked his name, and used the word, cool. Eagerly, Jamie told Nathan his address on the outskirts of the town.

Nathan grinned, his eyes reflecting Jamie’s emotion. “I know it well. I live a couple of streets south from there.”

 
Copyright Elodie Parkes, 2018, Encompass Ink

About Elodie:

I’m a writer who is in love with happy endings, currently based in southern UK. I write for Evernight Publishing, Siren, Hot Ink Press, Encompass Ink, and eXtasy Books.

I love music, art, flowers, trees, the ocean. I work with antiques by day and words by night. Like a vampire, darkness is my friend, that’s when the silence is only broken by an occasional hoot of owls in the woodlands opposite my home, and I write.

Find Elodie online:

Twitter

Facebook Facebook

Blog

Amazon

Congratulations to Lynn Burke on your new release!

Capone

Fallen Gliders 4

By Lynn Burke

Publisher: Evernight Publishing

Cover Art: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art

Release Date: December 20, 2018

#MCRomance #Erotic #Series #HEA

BLURB

Being called a pussy and pansy-ass his entire life led Jeremiah “Capone” Caldwell to join the Fallen Gliders, a motorcycle gang known for its rough ways, hard partying, and womanizing. Not that he needed help with the last. His charming smile and baby blues make it easy to get into the panties of whatever woman he sets his eyes on.

Except for Helina Bodnar.

The sexy siren is a lawyer, an independent spirit who refuses to bow to someone like the narcissistic assholes from her childhood. Jaded, she judges Capone’s character by the “67” inked on his neck, and although her body wants to let loose with the attraction sizzling between them, she knows he’s no good for her. Giving into lust proves easier than denying sexual gratification, however, leaving one bitter and the other brokenhearted.

When a rat spills Glider secrets to the police, Capone knows there is only one woman who might be able to get them off the hook. Will he be the real man Helina longs for, the one he truly is inside, or will the man he portrays to the world lose her forever?

PURCHASE LINKS:

books2read / Amazon.com / Amazon.uk / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / Smashwords

ADULT EXCERPT:

She unlocked the door of an office, but I didn’t pay attention beyond anything but getting her alone, somewhere I could give her what I’d denied her before she’d passed out in my arms the weekend before. Through a reception area that smelled like new furniture, through an inner office door, and Helina tossed her purse aside. She turned, but I stepped close, spun her around again, pulling her back against my chest.

I bent enough to slide my hand up beneath her skirt, my face buried in her neck.

No fucking panties.

I groaned in her ear while her pussy coated my hand with wetness as I cupped her. “Christ…”

“You had better deliver,” she said, pulling away.

The dimness of the office barely allowed me to see two large windows with heavy wooden blinds—closed to outside foot traffic—and a very large desk, half-covered with papers and boxes.

Helina hopped onto the edge and leaned back.

I didn’t need a verbal invitation, but dropped to my knees and lifted hers, placing her high heels on the edge of the desk. Her scent swarmed over me, and I leaned in for a deep breath.

“So fucking sweet.”

The first slow lick from her ass to her clit had her cursing. The second, she grabbed at my hair, nails digging into my scalp. “Holy shit.” She gasped as I latched my teeth onto her clit and nibbled. “Oh…”

Smiling, I slid lower again, licking every crease, every indent of her body, lapping up the arousal slipping from her swollen pussy lips. Puffy and quivering, she was slickened enough two of my fingers slid into her tight sheath with ease. I curled my fingers and gently rubbed, finding the roughened spot that lifted her back off the desk.

“God, yes, right there.” She moaned and lifted her hips higher.

“You like my fingers in you, darlin’?”

“Fuck, yes.”

I pumped in and out a few times, soaking up the whimpers panting past her lips. She complained when I replaced my fingers with my mouth, but uttered another lust-laced curse as I shoved my tongue inside of her body.

“Oh, fuck. Don’t stop!”

Lazily, I meandered up through her folds again until my lips brushed over her clit.

“Fuck me with your fingers,” she said, holding my head tight to her.

Only too happy to oblige, I did as told, pressing in deep and rubbing that elusive spot.

“God.” A few curses spilled from her lips as I thrust and rubbed, my teeth nibbling away at the swollen nub, my nose buried in the trimmed hair atop her pubis. Tangy, soft, and sweet, her pussy was better than any candy or liquor.

“I’m going to come.” She moaned the words, her hips rocking up with every thrust of my fingers, her thighs tightening against my ears. Holding me still as if she could stop me from denying her again.

As fucking if.

Helina gasped once … twice, and her back arched off the desk. With a whining cry, she came, her pussy grasping at my fingers in pulsing waves, cum drenching my knuckles. “Don’t. Stop.” She swallowed between the words, a half-gasped, half-moaned intake of air on its heels as I pulled her clit taunt with my teeth. A flick of my tongue over the hardened flesh sent another spasm through her body. “Fuck!”

Cum gushed from her pussy, sliding down my fingers to coat my knuckles and drip to the floor.

I slid my tongue up atop her clit a few more times, coaxing every last whimper from her lips. Her body released my fingers with a wet, sucking sound, and I licked both clean, inhaling until my lungs hurt. A kiss on the inside of each thigh, and I stood, my straining dick pressed between her lax thighs.

Helina sighed, and I cursed the darkness of the office. I wanted to see her face, her eyes. See the satisfaction, the bliss of a sated woman.

I placed my hands on her knees and slid them along the insides of her thighs, pressing between her skin and my jeans to rub my thumbs along my hard length. “You taste even better than I remembered.”

“And that was better than I expected.”

Grinning, I moved back, but she grasped my wrist before I could step away.

“You’re not done yet.”

My brow shot up at her tone, but fuck if her bossiness didn’t twitch my already pain-hardened cock. “That a fact?”

“Mmm.” She sat and grabbed hold of me through my jeans, her grip bringing more pre-cum to my dick’s throbbing head. “There’s no way in hell you didn’t stash a few condoms in your jeans somewhere.”

“I might have one or two.”

Helina released me and sat back, propped up on her elbows. “Get one out. I want your cock in me.”

I bit back my brain’s “yes, ma’am” and offered a cocky grin even though she wouldn’t be able to see me clearly. “Ask nicely,” I said instead, fighting at the discomfort of the alpha male skin I’d been trying to live in for over five years.

I couldn’t see her glare, but sure as fuck could feel it singeing my face. “Sheathe that hard cock and fuck me.”

© Lynn Burke 2018

ABOUT LYNN BURKE:

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

Website: https://www.authorlynnburke.com/

Blog: http://authorlynnburke.blogspot.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author-Lynn-Burke-555282497937461/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorLynnBurke

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorlynnburke/

Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/authorlynnburke

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/lynn-burke

Yaaayy, my erotic desert rally romance A THORNED ROSE IN THE SAND has been nominated for “Best Interratial Romance” in the Evernight Reader’s Choice Awards 2018!

I would love it if you gave it a vote at https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/7Y7VWN5

Many thanks in advance! ❤

Congratulations to London Saint James on your new release!

Desi

Of course, I noticed Mr. Shirtless. With a bod like his, who wouldn’t? But his hot-factor didn’t matter. What did? My asshat ex and the need to make him jealous. So, I strolled up to the panty-melting stranger as though I knew him and laid one on him, hoping said asshat would see I’d moved on just fine without him. Only, he never saw me kissing another man.

Kash

I spotted her—honey-blonde hair gleaming in the sun as she came my way. I’d flirt. Smile. Maybe get her number. I sure the hell didn’t expect her to toss her arms around my neck, mashing her body against mine, and kiss the ever-loving shit out of me. Then, she stopped. Stepped back. Blushed. Whispered “Sorry” and blended into the crowd. I never got her name that day. Or her number. However, fate had other plans and Destiny happened…again.

Buy links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07L571F53/

Books2Read: https://www.books2read.com/u/mKKj55

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/911177

Enjoy an excerpt:

Kash

Pops quickly flipped a line of sizzling sausages with his heavy-duty tongs as I carried an oversized cooler past him. “Those better be more brats for the grill since these babies are sellin’ out fast.”

“I wouldn’t leave you hanging, old man,” I said, sliding the container next to the boxes I’d placed under the canopy a few minutes earlier.

He bobbed his head. “Know it.”

There was affection and perhaps a little pride in my papaw’s tone.

“I’ve got another couple of coolers to bring over, so we should have enough brats to get us through the rest of the day.”

While having a food booth at Oktoberfest was an annual money-raising activity, allowing us to give a nice sum to a local charity—as well as excellent advertisement for Caldwell Trucking and Repair—hauling stuff to and from our venue and fighting the traffic and crowds wasn’t my favorite thing.

Glancing around I asked, “Where’s Joe?”

“He called a little while ago. He should be here any minute now.”

“You actually answered your cell phone? I’m impressed.”

Pops flipped another bratwurst. “Don’t give me shit, boy.”

“Just happy to see you giving in.” I chuckled. “It’s about time you moved out of the stone age.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, “I miss the good old days when a person wasn’t reachable twenty-four-seven. When my ass isn’t planted in my office chair, then I’m out. No one gets the concept of being away and unavailable anymore. I don’t need to be interrupted all the time.”

I couldn’t help but grin at his usual rage against the machine. Everyone knew if Pops was out of the trucking office, odds were good, speaking to him probably wasn’t happening.

“How about Cray?” I asked.

“Haven’t heard from him.”

“That asshole better not pull another no show. It’s his turn to do clean up.” With a shoulder lift, I swiped sweat from my face onto my damp, gray t-shirt.

I’d much rather work fifteen-hour days at the shop—which, let’s be honest, I did often so I could catch up on the paperwork end—than to deal with the daily vendor set up and nightly clean up.

“You know your brother, Kash.”

Shit… I’d be doing my younger brother’s job later because Crayten would do what he always did—leave me high and dry.

“Yeah, Pops, I do.”

We were only two days into this four-day event, and I wasn’t happy. Adding to my piss poor mood was the damn heat. It might have been October, but it was still hot as hell and even hotter standing behind our commercial-sized stainless steel grill where I would eventually be to give Pops a break. But come on. Four days of organized chaos and three-hundred-thousand festival goers could drive a man to drink. Although, on a positive note, I didn’t have far to go if I wanted to tie one on. The entrance to the beer garden was only a few feet away.

“Hey.” Joe strolled up, man bun in place—hipstered out in his skinny pants, a blue shirt with red suspenders, and a big goofy smile on his bearded face. “Did you catch those bar wenches?”

We did our standard fist bump greeting. “I’ve been too busy hauling shit to notice anyone.”

“Joe”—Pops motioned with his tongs—“I’ll never understand why you want to do that crap to your poor ears.”

That was Pops for you. His grousing way of greeting one of our best mechanics while at the same time giving the guy crap about the shiny black plugs protruding through his lobes.

Joe tugged on his right ear good-naturedly. “All the ladies love my accoutrements.”

“Accoutrements is it?” My papaw snorted. “Fancy.”

“Pops, stop busting Joe’s balls,” I said.

“All right, all right,” he rasped. “Glad you’re here, J.”

“Thanks, Mr. Caldwell. I’m happy to help,” Joe said—humor in his tone. He glanced back at me. “Still have stuff in your truck?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll give you a hand.”

I reached over my shoulder and yanked my shirt up, tugging it up and off my head. “Appreciated. Just give me a sec.”

Balling the cotton material, I swiped the driest section over my sweaty chest and stomach, glad I’d thought to toss a couple of clean t-shirts with our shop logo onto the passenger seat of my pickup that morning. I’d need to put on a fresh one.

A section of the milling crowd parted, and a few whistles snagged my attention. No. The whistles weren’t directed at me. They were for some dark-haired woman who was tossing her hands in the air and shaking her ass.

I’ll admit, she was attractive in a Jennifer Garner kind of way. But the woman next to her, shaking her head and smiling—long, honey-blonde hair gleaming in the sun—was a fucking knockout. A knockout who looked my way. A knockout who stared at me, then glanced past me—eyes narrowing—her porcelain-doll face going serious as she started in my direction.

Maybe it was the way she held herself. The biting of her luscious bottom lip. The gentle sway of those shapely hips. Or maybe it was the hip-hugging jeans and white, scoop-neck, long-sleeved tee showing off all her curves that did it. But she had this combination good-girl-next-door with a hint of wild-in-the-sack vixen vibe going on.

Filthy images of what I could do to muss her up raced through my head at supersonic speed.

I was ready to give her my best smile. Flirt a little. Maybe get her phone number. And I was just about to do all of that when without hesitation she stepped up to me, popped up on her tiptoes, tossed her arms around my neck, pressed those soft, full tits into my hard chest and smashed her plush, pink lips against mine.

All right. I’d had my fair share of women hit on me, and do that shit hard, but a woman literally throwing herself against me and taking charge without so much as a hello? Well, that was a first. When it came to the fairer sex, I took the lead. Regardless, though, I wasn’t stopping her. In fact, screw introductions. I didn’t need any.

Groaning, my right hand grabbed the back of her neck—fingers tangling into the strands of her silky hair. My other hand, still holding my wet shirt, went to her ass and pulled her even tighter into me.

She made a little mew of sound which turned into a throaty moan—her smaller frame melting into me as I plunged my tongue into her mouth, tasting an explosion of cool mint and womanly desire.

Yeah. I was full-on frenching someone I didn’t know—deep penetration style—while in front of Pops, Joe, and the entire swell of weekenders at Oktoberfest.

Obviously, I didn’t care.

Both my brain and body agreed. It was time to get down and dirty. This became apparent when all the blood I possessed rushed to my dick, and I ground myself into her pelvis. It didn’t matter where we were. It didn’t matter the woman in my arms was a stranger. Nothing in the world did but the feel, smell, and taste of her.

I needed more. More touching, tasting…just more.

Awareness seeped into my ‘need woman now’ mindset when she let go of me and pressed a palm to my bare shoulder, attempting to push me away.

Definitely get her number became the thought overtaking me as she stopped our rigorous game of tonsil hockey and stepped back, breaking my hold.

Staring down into the most exquisite pair of navy-blue eyes, I was struck mute. That was new as well. I’d never before been tongue-tied over a woman. Not only was I silent, but it also seemed I lost my ability to move.

Part of me understood I probably looked like a complete dumbfuck, standing there in front of our booth with a raging hard-on, shirtless, and goddamned speechless, but I just couldn’t pull my gaze from her.

A rosy hue started at her chest, crawled up her neck, and swept across her cheeks. She placed her fingertips on her kiss-swollen lips, whispered “Sorry,” spun around, and took off like the devil and all his minions were on her trail.

Her leaving so abruptly snapped me out of my stupor, and all my faculties crashed back in place with a jolt to my system. Rebooting me.

“Hey! Wait!” I called out, reaching. “Don’t go. What’s your name?”

All I caught was thin air and a peek of her shoulder as she blended into the crowd.

About the Author:

London Saint James has lived in many places but never felt ‘at home’ until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.

As an award-winning, international bestselling author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.

A complete list of London’s books can be found on her website http://www.londonsaintjames.com. You can also e-mail London with any questions or comments at London@londonsaintjames.com. She loves to hear from her readers.

Would you like to know more? Join her mailing list for her monthly newsletter http://eepurl.com/6P2on. Or, join her book group on Facebook, Slip Between the Pages with London https://www.facebook.com/groups/SlipBetweenthePageswithLondon/

Follow London at the following locations:

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/london-saint-james

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LSJRomance/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/londonsaintjames/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/LSJRomance

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/LSJRomance

Congratulations to Peri Elizabeth Scott on your new release!

Making it up to Maggie

Harrison’s insecurities catch up with him when finds another man, albeit alone, in his girlfriend’s bed. Refusing to hear her explanation, he leaves her. His secretary then meddles in his affairs, effectively driving Maggie away with a vengeance. Upon discovering that woman’s perfidy, Harrison tries to remedy the situation, and then finds out Maggie is pregnant! Determined to win her back, Harrison does his best to provide and care for her from a distance while trying to insinuate himself back into her life.

Hurt and bewildered, Maggie couldn’t believe Harrison would stoop so low, but the evidence seems irrefutable. And now she’s worried Harrison wants her only because she carries his child.

Harrison’s world again spins out of control, and he wonders if he is the best man for Maggie and their child after all…

It’s up to Maggie to teach Harrison his real worth.

Begging Briana

Caleb Younger is certain he will never actually love any woman, having been badly burned in the past because of so-called love. He believes he’s fond of Briana Jeffries, has intense sexual feelings for her, and wants her in his life, but doesn’t love her.

Humiliated, when he says as much while amongst their friends, Briana finally accepts she’s been fooling herself—Caleb will never love her. She leaves him to get on with her life.

His life now empty, Caleb faces the truth. He loves Briana more than anything, and resorts to everything to get her back. But Briana’s friend doesn’t want Briana hurt again and conspires to keep the two apart. A series of events and coincidences play out, giving Caleb the opportunity to beg Briana to take him back.

Buy Links:

https://www.books2read.com/u/3L0AG1

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KXLBC9S

Excerpts:

Making It Up to Maggie

Harrison increased his grip on the steering wheel of his SUV to a stranglehold. It was the only thing keeping him from jumping out and grabbing Maggie, throwing her in the back seat, and driving off with her. Sanity prevailed, but it was a close call. He marveled again at how a slip of a woman had infiltrated his psyche and undermined his self-control, not to mention teaching him so much on the subject of himself. Before he’d gone and royally screwed things up.

She stood outside the doors of the office building with two of her friends. Even at a distance, he saw her energy and light while she conversed animatedly with Veronica and Joyce, although he’d noticed shadows beneath her eyes and a certain gauntness hollowing her cheeks whenever he’d been able to get closer to her.

Her blonde hair streamed around her shoulders in the gusty wind, and her dress was pulled tightly against her long, slender frame, molding her high breasts and the slight, swelling roundness of her belly. His baby was growing there.

Harrison was missing out on every wondrous day of that burgeoning life and the woman he desired and loved more than anything else in the world. Missing out because of his stupid masculine pride and ego.

He closed his eyes against the pain in his heart and the clenching of his gut. He didn’t know what else he might do to make amends for his atrocious behavior, to regain Maggie’s trust. Nothing. He had to accept that. He would do his best to care for her, provide for her and his child, but from a distance. He was his father’s son, after all, and she deserved better, as did their child. He’d proven he had nothing to offer outside of the basics and the superficial because blood would tell. As would nature over nurture.

Begging Briana

Tossing several items of clothing into her suitcase, Briana Jeffries then found a plastic makeup bag to stick a few toiletries in. It had taken a long time to accept the obvious but she’d finally accepted the fact Caleb wasn’t going to miraculously profess his love for her. Tonight had been the kicker.

She ignored the ache in her chest and concentrated on packing the things she needed, not that there were a lot. No way was she going to think about what was true. Except she couldn’t turn a blind eye. She loved Caleb and he didn’t love her. There. She said it again and that made it true.

Swiping impatiently at the tears suddenly streaking her face, she zipped the bag closed, taking a final look around the bedroom she shared with the love of her life for nearly three years. Too bad she hadn’t been the love of his. It was time to move on. Christina would be outside by now.

Hurrying down the stairs of the place she’d hoped would be her forever home, she steadfastly ignored all the little things she’d done to make it so, especially the plethora of pictures. The reflection of beautiful places and events, smiling, happy faces, pictures of her and Caleb, mocked her despite her best efforts not to look. Caleb must be blind not to see what they had between them, captured for the world to see, but apparently, it was her love that was blind. After throwing open the front door she hauled her case outside, barely avoiding the rebound of the heavy wooden panel as it slammed shut behind her, her keys now locked within. Final. No going back.

About the author:

Peri Elizabeth Scott aka Allyson Young lives in cottage country, Manitoba, Canada where she and her husband pretend to work well together in their seasonal business.

She has always enjoyed the written word, and after reading an erotic romance, quite by mistake, decided to try her hand at penning one. That was followed by a mix of spicy (Ally) and sweet (Peribeth) romances in various genres as well as a post-apocalyptic adventure without a lick of romance by Peribeth.

A bestselling Amazon author, a hybrid, and a coauthor, as of November 2018 she has published seven series and several standalones, with others in the works.

www.perielizabethscott.com

https://www.facebook.com/sweetnspicyauthor/

Congratulations to L.D. Blakeley on your new release!

Thanks so much for having me on your blog 🙂

A few years ago I went sightseeing in my own backyard and fell in love with a beautiful area just a few hours outside of Toronto called the Kawarthas. It’s the kind of place where I could imagine buying a cottage, or even picture moving to on a more permanent basis one day. You see, it has a vibe. I know – how very woo. But it does. It’s magical, almost otherworldly. And I knew in an instant I was going to create a fictional universe based on this bewitching region in Ontario, Canada.

SHADOWY PINES by L.D. Blakeley
Available: November 28, 2018
Paranormal Romance, MM Romance, Magical Realism
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-77339-846-4
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer | Editor: CA Clauson

When an over-educated, underemployed millennial is called home to help with the family business, he jumps at the chance to leave his crap job, crappier love life, and the city behind.

But moving to Shadowy Pines isn’t quite the idyllic life change Finn Parks imagined.

How the hell do you cope when you find out magic – actual magic – is real? Or that you also happen to come from a long line of powerful witches? And that handsome man with all the sizzle? Yeah, he might be trying to kill you.

FML.

Read an excerpt

Where To Buy:

Evernight Publishing → $3.99 $2.99 until Dec. 12

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Bookstrand | | Kobo | Smashwords

Excerpt:

“You’d be surprised how easily swayed I can be by a handsome face.”

Not for nothing, but Finn was fairly certain that was a come on. It had been a while, but he did remember what one sounded like. This one was … nicer, somehow. It still had the promising lilt of innuendo, but it didn’t sound like it had been rehearsed or lifted from bad porn dialogue.

“My aunt says you’re new in town, too. What’re you here for?”

“Business. Boring family business.”

“How vague,” Finn teased.

“Seriously. My father sent me back here to check out a vineyard. He’s interested in adding it to the wine brewing facility we already run, the Sharpe Wine Butler on the outskirts of town. You know it?”

“Can’t say I do, but it sounds more interesting than why I moved here.”

“Why are you in Shadowy Pines?”

“Jude and Poppy needed my help, I had nothing worth holding on to in the city, so—here I am.” Finn shrugged. “Now that’s boring,” he added with what he hoped was a charming smile.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Finn.” Owen pulled his chair closer and placed his hand on Finn’s knee. “Feel that?”

Of course he did. It felt as though a live wire had been placed against his bare skin.

“Yes.” Finn cursed the breathy, needy tone his voice had taken on. “What…” He wasn’t sure how to phrase his question so it wouldn’t offend. “What is that? I mean, I get the concept of electrical attraction, but this? This isn’t normal.”

When Owen didn’t reply right away, Finn prodded, “Right?”

“No, not really.” Owen’s fingers were slowly caressing Finn’s leg and inching their way up his thigh “Not for most people.” Owen leaned forward and took Finn’s face in both hands and brought their lips so close Finn swore he could taste him. Owen’s eyes visibly blazed in a way that barely seemed human. Finn froze, his breath catching in his throat.

When Owen finally pressed their lips together, Finn felt another jolt of electricity arc through his entire body and he gasped at the sensation. Owen’s fingers at his nape trailed delicious sparks across Finn’s skin as he licked at the seam of Finn’s mouth. Finn opened eagerly and nipped at Owen’s bottom lip. Never had a kiss made him so crazy with want. He needed to touch, wanted to crawl inside of Owen and feel him from the inside, out. But as Finn reached out a hand, Owen pulled away, his breathing every bit as labored as Finn’s.

“We’re different, Finn.” Owen licked at his lips and watched Finn’s eyes follow the tip of his tongue. “You’re different. You know that, right?”

Finn had no response. None that made any sense. Right now all he wanted was to tear at Owen’s clothes and taste every last inch of the man. But for some reason, Owen had put on the brakes and wanted to discuss—what, exactly? Finn was at a loss. And his dick could have cut glass.

“The woman in the grocery store. You mentioned that wasn’t the first time you’d seen her, right?”

“Right.” Finn’s voiced faltered slightly. Not sure where Owen was going with this, he gestured for him to continue.

“I think she saw you for what you are.”

“And what exactly is that?” Finn asked, not sure he wanted an answer.

“You’re a witch, Finn.”

Owen’s face was so serious, so earnest, Finn almost believed him for a split second.

Almost.

He threw his head back and laughed uproariously. He laughed so hard, he could feel tears well up in his eyes. Well that’s an effective way to kill an erection.

But Owen’s expression hadn’t changed an iota. He simply sat and stared at Finn.

“Are you—oh, god, you’re serious aren’t you?”

Dammit! He knew there was a reason he’d established his dating embargo. He certainly could attract the crazies.

About the Author:

L.D. Blakeley is a pragmatist with a romantic soul & a dirty mind. She loves horror movies, hot sex, and happily ever afters. She’s easily distracted by shiny things, and is a slightly neurotic, highly ambitious dreamer who enjoys dabbling in photography & pretending she can carry a tune.

In another life, L.D. was a newspaper reporter, an entertainment & music writer, travel writer, website content editor, and a marketing shill. Now she prefers to spend her time writing hot, steamy fiction (with a healthy dose of romance) about intriguing, sexy men. Although she dreams of living some place isolated with an endless supply of wine and an infinite number of titles on her eReader, she currently lives in downtown Toronto with her husband and their rock star cat.

Find L.D. online:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Amazon | Goodreads

Happy Wednesday, and thanks again to Angelica Dawson for organizing the MidWeekTeases!

This week’s tease comes from my ménage erotica HIGH-RISK FEVER, which I recently re-released with an additional chapter ❤

In this scene, we’re continuing where we left off last week. Anne’s husband questions her in the cellar, about the other guys…

* * *

“Do you know what would happen to me if I lost you?” His voice cracked.

For a second, a cruel rush of sorrow filled her chest.

Yes, I know what that would feel like. I love you, too, Brian.

He released her hair. His strong hands moved to her ass cheeks, cupped them, and with perfect ease, lifted her.

She squealed, helpless to the shelf scraping her spine. Unbalanced, blind, she flapped her arms in the dark before leaning forward and clutching Brian’s shoulders.

With a few adjustments, he positioned the hard bulge in his pants into the crevice of her inner thighs, pressing it against her panties. So ready.

Oh God. The intimate touch made her inner muscles clench with lust.

Did he want to fuck her here? Standing?

“I’ll do anything to keep you.” He buried his face in her cleavage with a choked, guttural sound, his moustache prickling the skin between her breasts.

She didn’t know what to say, could only fight back the warm tears threatening to fill her eyes.

He moved his face in front of hers, quick breaths brushing her lips.

Thank God I can’t see your eyes and what they’re telling me.

“You want to be fucked hard and fast, Anne,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “I’ll fuck you hard and fast.” With no further warning, he dropped her to the floor.

She welcomed the cement underneath her feet and let her hands slide down from his shoulders, grazing the metal buttons of his shirt pockets.

He grabbed her arms, spun her around, and pushed her against the wooden shelves. One met the front of her thighs, another dug into her lower ribs, and the third—on which sat the cartons she brought earlier—provided support for her head.

Tiny, sour-smelling dust particles snuck into her nostrils as she rested her chin atop the solid wood, and she barely held back a sneeze. Fumbling with her hands, she found two vertical pillars on both sides of the shelf and clutched them for balance.

Relentless, Brian brought his hands to her hips, stroking her feminine curves, then lifted her skirt to her waist. He pulled at the lace band of her panties until the fabric slid down her legs. He groaned as he moved a couple of cold, meaty fingers into her wetness and probed around, nails scratching her inner walls.

She gasped from the sudden violation, her cunt gripping his fingers as if welcoming his cock.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” His face pressed into her back. “You slut.”

Oh, it was the first time he’d said that word.

He removed the fingers, stepped back a little, and the zzzzip of his pants sounded behind her. “My own slut.”

Raw excitement caused her to leak desire for him.

Strong hands grabbed her hips, forcing her back to arch and her ass to point backward. “My own beautiful sweetie.”

Yes.

He grunted and held her in position while poking his hard cock against her entrance. The tip felt wet, his seminal fluid mixing with her juices. He moved a hand to her abdomen and pulled her closer with quick thrusts of his hips until the large erection, little by little, inched inside her.

She closed her eyes in surrender and rested on the shelf. The rough wood was the only secure, stable thing in her life at this moment, the only thing she could trust would stay.

With small grunts, he pulled out, and in again, each time slamming her ribs against the second shelf. She wanted to build her release together with him, but her arousal contrasted with growing sadness. “I love you, Anne.” His fast, gliding movements made her tunnel walls heat. Ragged breaths and wet, sucking sounds filled the small cellar. “Don’t you see? Don’t you know?”

Yes, I do. She wanted to cry, wanted to apologize, but found no words. Instead, she clutched the wood pillars so tightly, she imagined her knuckles turning white and ground her teeth. Tears snuck out between her closed lids.

Brian’s groans increased with the speed of his thrusts then he seized up behind her with a cry. Hips jerking, he emptied his seed and dug his fingers into her stomach.

“My beautiful!” He buried his face into her back again and sobbed. “My own beautiful baby!”

Copyright @ 2018 Lea Bronsen

Two young and indecently handsome bicyclists visit a village in the French Alps during the summer holidays. Forced by a raging storm to spend the night at the local bed & breakfast, they invade the quiet lives of hostess Anne and her husband, Brian.

A power outage plunges the foursome into darkness, encouraging new liaisons to form, life-long secrets to be unveiled, and steamy lessons to be learned. But once the storm moves on, can the four find a balance and resume their normal lives?

Links:

Get the book on Amazon.com, Amazon.uk, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, iBooks, and Smashwords.

Add it to your shelf on Goodreads

See photos that inspired me to write on Pinterest

* * *

Thanks for stopping by!

Be sure to check out all the fantastic writers sharing Mid-Week Tease Blog