Real Vamps Don't Drink O-Neg by Tawny Taylor
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
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Friday, May 25, 2012
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Devil Wears Lace by L. B. Shire
Breathless Press
Historical/Western Romance
Sara McAllister wants two things in this life: revenge and a new start for the future.
Sara wants revenge. The thought of avenging her family has kept her sane these past years. Now she is so close to reaching her final goal. Joseph Murry, the man who murdered her family, will pay—with his life. She needs only to win the horse race this corrupt politician is sponsoring, finish him, take her winnings, and head west to begin a new life. But someone she never expected to see again has crossed her path, possibly changing the course of her future forever.
Slade hadn't expected to find Sara in Devils Cove—and inside a seedy little saloon, to boot. But here she is, standing before him, stunning as ever. She tells him she is going to win this race and take care of business. Slade recalls her tortured past: a man had murdered her family and left her for dead. He thought he was here to win a race, but instead finds he must protect Sara. For even though they had decided long ago to go their separate ways, the only way she will survive is if he remains by her side.
Link: www.breathlesspress.com/devil- wears-lace
Teaser Excerpt:
Sara's gaze fell upon a lone man hidden among the shadows at the back of the room. Something about the way he rested his hands on the table struck a chord in her mind. The simple mannerism seemed vaguely familiar. She knew when she homed in on his features that she'd seen this man before.
Her hunch was correct. He pushed his hat back to reveal a grisly scar down his right cheek. Sara's breath caught in her chest. The air seemed to have been sucked from her lungs. Could it be?
Her pulse thundered under her skin, and she swallowed hard. A slow ache gripped her heart. The memory of hardened muscles under her fingertips and the vision of entangled bodies flitted through her mind. They were memories she thought were long since buried. It was Slade.
***
"Sara, haven't seen you for a spell," Slade called out to her. He set his bottle of whiskey on the table before him. Her face remained impassive as their eyes met. Life was about to get interesting. Having Sara in Devils Cove was a distraction he hadn't anticipated.
He watched, captivated, while she removed her dusty hat. Her long blonde hair fell in a cascade of waves around her shoulders; this sight alone sent a shot of desire pulsing through his system. My God, it's been a long time. His fingers ached to touch the silky mass.
"Damn." He groaned under his breath. Sara in the same room had set his mind into a jumble. Her luminous green eyes never wavered from his. His focus fell to her mouth, mesmerized while the tip of her tongue swept over her upper lip. Would she remember their time spent together? He could vividly recall every last detail. The woman had bewitched him long ago.
About the author:
L.B. Shire has been writing stories that combine love, brave men, and horses for as long as she can remember. Occasionally she pulls out those dusty old gems and reminiscences with a cup of hot tea. Only in the last few years has she tried her hand at joining the ranks of published authors. When not writing or researching, L.B. enjoys spending time with her family, riding one of her horses, and, of course, reading anything that is put before her! She currently resides on the West Coast in a sleepy little mountain town. There, in the midst of all the beauty, she plans her characters' next adventures. For more information on L.B. Shire, please visit her work-in-progress blog @ L.B.Shire.com.
Historical/Western Romance
Sara McAllister wants two things in this life: revenge and a new start for the future.
Sara wants revenge. The thought of avenging her family has kept her sane these past years. Now she is so close to reaching her final goal. Joseph Murry, the man who murdered her family, will pay—with his life. She needs only to win the horse race this corrupt politician is sponsoring, finish him, take her winnings, and head west to begin a new life. But someone she never expected to see again has crossed her path, possibly changing the course of her future forever.
Slade hadn't expected to find Sara in Devils Cove—and inside a seedy little saloon, to boot. But here she is, standing before him, stunning as ever. She tells him she is going to win this race and take care of business. Slade recalls her tortured past: a man had murdered her family and left her for dead. He thought he was here to win a race, but instead finds he must protect Sara. For even though they had decided long ago to go their separate ways, the only way she will survive is if he remains by her side.
Link: www.breathlesspress.com/devil- wears-lace
Teaser Excerpt:
Sara's gaze fell upon a lone man hidden among the shadows at the back of the room. Something about the way he rested his hands on the table struck a chord in her mind. The simple mannerism seemed vaguely familiar. She knew when she homed in on his features that she'd seen this man before.
Her hunch was correct. He pushed his hat back to reveal a grisly scar down his right cheek. Sara's breath caught in her chest. The air seemed to have been sucked from her lungs. Could it be?
Her pulse thundered under her skin, and she swallowed hard. A slow ache gripped her heart. The memory of hardened muscles under her fingertips and the vision of entangled bodies flitted through her mind. They were memories she thought were long since buried. It was Slade.
***
"Sara, haven't seen you for a spell," Slade called out to her. He set his bottle of whiskey on the table before him. Her face remained impassive as their eyes met. Life was about to get interesting. Having Sara in Devils Cove was a distraction he hadn't anticipated.
He watched, captivated, while she removed her dusty hat. Her long blonde hair fell in a cascade of waves around her shoulders; this sight alone sent a shot of desire pulsing through his system. My God, it's been a long time. His fingers ached to touch the silky mass.
"Damn." He groaned under his breath. Sara in the same room had set his mind into a jumble. Her luminous green eyes never wavered from his. His focus fell to her mouth, mesmerized while the tip of her tongue swept over her upper lip. Would she remember their time spent together? He could vividly recall every last detail. The woman had bewitched him long ago.
About the author:
L.B. Shire has been writing stories that combine love, brave men, and horses for as long as she can remember. Occasionally she pulls out those dusty old gems and reminiscences with a cup of hot tea. Only in the last few years has she tried her hand at joining the ranks of published authors. When not writing or researching, L.B. enjoys spending time with her family, riding one of her horses, and, of course, reading anything that is put before her! She currently resides on the West Coast in a sleepy little mountain town. There, in the midst of all the beauty, she plans her characters' next adventures. For more information on L.B. Shire, please visit her work-in-progress blog @ L.B.Shire.com.
Monday, May 21, 2012
A Lover for Rachel by Lynn Crain
Paranormal Contemporary Erotic RomanceBuy at: http://www.amazon.com/A-Lover-for-Rachel-ebook/dp/B006QYWQHO/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1337601240&sr=1-1
The magic of love comes to everyone.
Rachel Hamilton comes to Stonehenge to celebrate her birthday on Summer Solstice, only to find herself trapped beneath the massive rhyolite bluestones with sexy wizard, Dewin Kingston, who convinces her that she is the key to their escape.
NOTE: This is a SHORT STORY with EXPLICIT language and adult situations.
Lynn Crain realized at an early age she wanted to write. She took the long way to that goal by doing a variety of things like nursing, geologist, technical writer and computer manager. Even though she is no longer in the medical field, Lynn has studied natural medicine and remedies for years. She is currently getting her Ph.D. in natural medicine with an emphasis on historical medicine and is still utterly fascinated with all things medical. During her free time she weaves fantasy, futuristic and paranormal tales as well as erotic stories for various publishers. She lives in the very hot southwest with her husband, son, one dog, three cats and a snake named Sandune. She is a past board member of the Romance Writers of America, past VP of EPIC and current EPPIEs Chairman for EPIC.
She loves hearing from her readers at lynncrain@cox.net.
Links:
Website: www.lynncrain.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/oddlynn3
Blog: http://lynncrain.blogspot.com
Yahoo Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/XtraOrdinaryRomance
Facebook: www.facebook.com/oddlynn3
Publishers:
eXtasy Books: http://extasybooks.com/
Loose Id: www.loose-id.com
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Sonya's Midlife Crisis by Donna Del Oro
Devine Destinies
Contemporary Romance/Women's Fiction
http://www.devinedestinies.com/sonyas-midlife-crisis-3/
When Sonya’s husband tells her he wants a divorce so that he can marry his pregnant girlfriend, she goes a little berserk! So, how does the worst day of her life turn out to be the best thing that ever happens to her? Forty-two-year-old Sonya learns it’s never too late to wake up and grow up!
Teaser Excerpt:
Now I began to wonder. Earl’s girlfriend was pregnant, although it appeared he’d used birth control. So what happened? Did he intend for her to get pregnant or was he duped by a clever woman who was bent on trapping him?
“Bet the skanky bitch put holes in his condoms,” Tina snarled, mirroring my thoughts. She scooped them up, using a shoehorn and the shoebox lid, like so many dog turds, then tossed them in the same box with the underwear I was collecting. “One of Eddie’s brothers—Carlos—got snagged that way. He’s resented her ever since although he loves the little guy to death. Funny the way that sometimes turns out. He says he’s going to divorce her as soon as little Chuckie turns eighteen.”
I frowned. That was one marriage made in hell. Little Chuckie was only six. Tina’s brother-in-law’s problem made me wonder, though. Was that how Earl had felt when I didn’t get pregnant? Did he resent me for miscarrying? Feel cheated somehow? Did he feel trapped into raising my sister’s daughter? If he did, he never showed it, for he and I both treated Evita as our own. And he knew when we were dating that I came with a child.
I’d have to ask Scott about that soon. Maybe not having our own children was at the heart of our disintegrated marriage. Maybe Earl had stopped using those condoms long ago in order to have his own biological babies…
Two hours later—how time flies when you’re busy packing up a relationship—Tina and I dragged, pushed, carried—kicked when necessary—all fourteen boxes filled with Earl’s drawers and closet including his coin collection, girlie mags and sports paraphernalia. Packing up those items truly made it final. Tina was staring at the closet when I returned for the last box.
“Now what?” I asked, wiping the sweat off my neck. Our eyes locked for a moment, then hers slipped downward. Something was bothering her, but whatever it was didn’t last long, for a moment later, she was backing out my Explorer. She had a plan. Rent an open U-Haul trailer and take all the boxes over to Connie’s house. That way, Tina could drive it over to Connie’s, let them unload the boxes, and it would save Earl’s sister an unpleasant trip. I agreed to that, and by early evening our task was done.
Later, we shared a Margarita, made golden by Tina’s special recipe and the bottle of Grand Marnier she’d bought on her way back from Connie’s. She toasted our health and better times. I toasted to insight and wisdom, two qualities I was severely lacking.
Then she kept me busy by helping her make pork and chicken tamales. We’d take them to my church, Saints Peter and Paul, and serve them to the homeless on Sunday evening.
Between the corn husks, corn meal and bowls of spicy filling, our fingers flew. We drank and laughed about our childhood, growing up in a middle-class latino barrio in Abilene and spending hot summers on our uncle’s ranch in east Texas. I occasionally missed Texas, especially family, and flew home mostly during Christmas or Easter vacations. But I’d lived in California since I’d come to live with a spinster aunt in San Jose and go to college. Both places were home to me.
It felt so good to laugh again. When Tina climbed into the guest-room bed around midnight, she eyed me in her tipsy, teasing fashion.
“This pillow smells of men’s cologne. Eddie wears the same cologne, so I know. Who’s been staying with you, Sonya? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
I furrowed my brows. Eddie was Tina’s defense attorney-husband, successful and rich. They adored each other, even after fifteen years of marriage. Then it dawned on me, a memory clawing to the surface of my muddy, inebriated brain.
“Oh, that’s Scott. He was here one night. His birthday. The day I flipped out. He was worried about me.”
“I’ll say. I found the knives in the clothes dryer, where he said he put them. He’s got quite a crush, wouldn’t you say?”
“No, I wouldn’t.” I started to close the mini blinds, trying hard to focus on the plastic wand that turned them. My fingers fumbled, then finally grasped it. “He’s a good friend, that’s all. My best friend.”
“Are you sure that’s all?”
Annoyed that Tina would even broach the subject, I flicked the light off on the wall. Nevertheless, the good feelings of that evening lingered. The tamale-making, the Texas memories. Even the Margaritas.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
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