Guest Author & Giveaway: Sabrina York

Please keep reading for info on my contest: Win a sexy pair of rhinestone studded handcuffs. You know you want them!

Thanks so much to Mel, one of my favorite writers, for giving me a forum to babble endlessly about myself. Sigh. It is, after all, one of the greatest pleasures of my life next to cheesecake. And writing about strong, sexy, dominant men.

If you’ve read any of Mel’s books (and who hasn’t) you know she leans toward dominant men. That’s probably why I enjoy her books so much. I tend to lean toward dominant men as well. When I get the chance, I lean on them.

No great hairy surprise, then, that they keep popping up in my manuscripts. My debut novel, Adam’s Obsession, exploded into the world to rave reviews. My readers love his dark, driven domination of his online sub, WildKat, and thrilled when Adam discovered that his sexy chat room plaything was actually his buttoned up co-worker. His seduction of her was scorching. Melted ice cubes all over the place.

I was flooded with requests for more.

Fortunately for me (and my e-mail inbox!) Adam’s brother Tristan was ready to release.

Oh dear. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.

Aw hell. Of course I did. This is erotica after all.

Tristan’s Temptation, the second book in the Trillo Brothers duet is now available from Ellora’s Cave. From those of you who have read Adam’s Obsession, you will be delighted to see the old crew back together. Including your favorite and mine, Jack Maris. And yes, to forestall another flood of emails, Jack is getting his own story and yes, he will be punished.

Here is a taste of Tristan:

Tristan Trillo has one steadfast rule: Thou Shalt Not Fish in the Company Pond. That puts his sexy secretary, Shannon Weiss, firmly out of reach. But when Shannon discovers the depth of his desire for her, she vows to seduce him.

After a blazing, illicit tryst, Tristan insists that ‘they can never do this again.’ So Shannon, ever the obedient assistant, makes certain the next time, they do something completely different.

Poor Tristan is a man trapped between his steadfast rule and a burning passion. A rock, if you will, and a very hard place. 

An Irresistible Temptation…

It was nearly ten that night when he finally broke down and called her. He used the phone, because they’d already done the computer thing, and he’d insisted that couldn’t happen again. The phone, for some reason, he could justify.

It took her a moment to pick up, though he knew she was home. He could see the light streaming softly through her windows as he stood on the bluff overlooking her house.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft, watery. Like she’d been crying.

“Shannon?”

“Tristan.” She fairly breathed his name.

“Are you all right?”

She sniffled. “Oh yeah. I was just, um, watching a movie. How are you?”

“I’m… good.” It was a lie. He was hungry and antsy and annoyed. “I’ve been thinking about you.” Like incessantly.

“Have you?” Her sniffles seemed to have cleared up. He watched as she stepped out onto the patio, wearing a terrycloth robe, cell phone in hand and looked up at his house. He sketched a wave.

“Yes. Have you been thinking about me?”

“A little.” He heard the smile in her voice.

“Just a little?”

“Well. Okay. A lot.” He watched as she sat on a lounge chair and pulled a blanket over her lower body. It was a cool night and her legs were bare.

“Did you just get out of the shower?” Something started to simmer in his groin.

“The bath.”

He groaned at the vision her words created in his head. “Did you have bubbles?”

“Not tonight. But I could do that, if it would interest you. I’d let you watch.”

“Would you?” He liked that idea. He liked it very much.

“Did you touch yourself while you were in the bath?”

She chortled. “Of course, Tristan. But do you know what?”

“What?” He was breathless with curiosity.

“I’m touching myself right now.”

“What!” He nearly dropped his cell over the cliff. Jesus. There. On the balcony. Outside!

“Oh yeah.” She moaned deep and low. He swore he could see her fingers undulating inside that robe, under the blanket, a quarter mile away. In the shadows.

“Shannon, Jesus. You’re killing me.”

She didn’t reply, but he watched as her knees rose to points in the distance as she shifted her body. Anyone else watching would have no idea that the woman relaxing on the lounger was slipping her fingers deep inside her body, but Tristan knew. He knew with a visceral jolt to his solar plexus as he heard her groan, the sharp gasps and the tiny little whimpers of pleasure. “Hell.” He squinted his eyes in a vain attempt to see her better. There in the dark. A quarter mile away.

“Oh yes.” Her voice was like velvet. “I’m so wet for you, Tristan. I’ve been thinking about you all day and I want you in me sooo bad.”

“Do you?” Hell. He wanted that too. More than fucking anything.

“Mmm. Do you know how hard my little nub is? It’s like a stone. So hard. So swollen. It feels so good when I touch it. I wish you could touch it. I wish you could lick it. I wish…”

But Shannon was talking to herself. Tristan had severed the connection and was heading for the door, his car keys and his hard on making twin bulges in his jeans.

If a little playful BDSM makes you hot, you’ll enjoy the scene where Tristan bends Shannon over his lap and paddles her bottom. And don’t miss their visit to the Pleasure Palace where Tristan ties Shannon to a punishment chair and ruthlessly torments her with a feather.

Mmmm. 

My Contest: Because Who Can’t Use a Spare Pair of Sparkly Handcuffs?

In honor of Adam’s Obsession and Tristan’s Temptation and Pushing her Buttons (coming soon from Ellora’s Cave)—all of which feature light and playful BDSM or, as we call it on Goodreads, Sugarkink, I have a really fun new contest for a pair of sexy rhinestone handcuffs. All you need to do to enter to win is subscribe to my Hotsheet (for info on new contests & releases). There is only one entry per person, but you can earn more entries by referring your friends to www.SabrinaYork.com. For each friend that signs up for the newsletter, you earn another entry, but they must tell me you referred them. If you have already subscribed to the newsletter, you are automatically entered. Anyone can enter, as long as they are 18+.

The drawing date is September 1^st. To assure there is fairness in the drawing, I leave the room and let the one person on the planet who could truly care less about anything in my life draw the winner. Teenage sons: Useful at last.

Connect with Sabrina!

I love to hear from readers. You can find me on Twitter at @sabrina_york or on Facebook. If you’re feeling brave, check out my naughty postings (definitely NSFW) on Pintrest. Of course, you can always contact me through my webpage at www.SabrinaYork.com.

Here’s wishing you a wonderful summer filled with sexy dominant heroes who fulfill your every fantasy!

Sabrina

Guest Author & Giveaway: Cathryn Cade

‘Aloha, I’m Cathryn Cade.

Mahalo to Melissa for hosting me today on her fun, hot blog. This is just the kind of place I love to play, how about you? Hot men flexing from the sidebars and rose petals scattered on the floor—oh, yeah!

The only way it could be better? If those were plumeria petals. Mmm, that wonderful scent. Sweet and seductive, wafting on the warm, damp, tropical air. The blossoms hanging from branches on the side of every path and lawn, in shades of delicate cream to deepest pink, tinged with yellow.

Ah, I feel as if I’m back in Hawaii. Sigh … but I’m not, I’m here in the Pac NW, where it’s a typical June—chilly and rainy. Shivering now, and huddling deeper in my polar fleece.

How do you keep your sanity while you’re waiting for your favorite season? I travel—in my imagination, that is. I sit down at my computer, log in to Pandora Internet Radio and turn on my Hawaiian station, loaded with meltingly beautiful songs by Iz, Kealii Reichel, the Cazimero Brothers and Hapa. Then I open up my current work-in-progress, and I’m off to the Big Island for another steamy, Hawaiian fantasy vacation.

I love Hawaii, and visit every spring with my husband. We cram as much snorkeling, sight-seeing, shopping and micro-brew tasting as we can into our visit, and then reluctantly drag ourselves home with hundreds of photos and a suitcase full of gifts and souvenirs.  Our visits are never long enough.

So how to prolong my visits? Why, write a series that will allow me to return again and again. Come with me, why don’t you? Meet the amazing men of Hawaiian Heroes.

If you’ve been to Hawaii, I hope you’ll ‘recognize’ some of your favorite places on the Big Island. If not, come along with Melia Carson on a tropical adventure laden with sun, sand and sex. Mix up a mai tai or an iced tea and join her!

If you like the excerpt, leave a comment here and let me know. I’ll enter you in a drawing for 1 of 5 FREE copies of Melia’s story, Hawaiian Heroes I; Walking in Fire and a $5.00 Samhain gift certificate.

Winners will be notified by June 21. If I list you as a winner, please shoot me an email at cathryncade@cathryncade.com for details on how to claim your prize.

Born to defend his people, he will sacrifice everything—for her.

Nawea Bay, a remote Hawaiian paradise, is just the haven Melia Carson needs to escape the chill of heartache. Instead, she finds herself swept up in a tropical heat wave, fueled by attraction to the handsome native she meets on a snorkel tour.

He’s big, powerful, hot enough to melt her defenses—and he’s not all he seems. How else could he survive an injury that should have killed him…and why does she dream of him garbed in ancient native dress and wreathed in flames?

David “Malu” Ho’omalu is on the Big Island to find and destroy a cache of dangerous designer drugs before they can be sold to his people. Fending off amorous female tourists is part of the job, but one look in Melia’s blue eyes, and his instincts scream that she is his.

 As Melia surrenders to the desire burning between them, she discovers more than a fiery heritage that defies modern logic. She discovers a man who would descend into the molten heart of the volcano to protect his island. And her…if she can find the strength to trust her heart to him.

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Product Warnings

Hot, hot Hawaiian hero with volcanic passion on his mind. Better pack a heat-proof bikini for this island paradise.

Monday, May 9th

He awoke in a rough bed, a roof of green moving above him. Through the icy talons of pain gripping his head and shoulders, he focused one eye. The other was swollen shut.

The shadows shifting overhead were huge ferns hanging from a steep bank. He turned his gaze the other way as much as he was able. The ground sloped off abruptly past black lava boulders.

Somewhere above, the tropical sun burned fierce and bright, but only a little light filtered down through the layers of tropical rain forest. Warm, humid shadows enclosed him. The bed on which he lay was earth, fallen leaves and palm fronds. He was on Mauna Loa.

Shifting carefully, he discovered he could move both his hands and feet. Arms and legs worked too, although not without clawing from the pilikua nui, the monster that seemed to have him by the side of his head and neck. Slowly, he lifted a hand to touch his temple. It came away wet and sticky. Blood.

He remembered now—finding the woman, then hearing a noise behind him, and pain exploding in his head. He was a fool. He’d let his guard down. This was his punishment.

Voices murmured in his head. The old ones. Somewhere, the Ho’omalu were chanting for him. That was good, for theirs were not the only voices he heard. His heart gave a great thump and began to race as a man called out just above him on the mountainside.

“Oh my God! Is she dead?” Footsteps pounded. Small lava rocks skittered down, bouncing past him. A gecko, startled by the motion, darted onto his chest, its tiny feet a familiar tickle. It ran down his belly, toward his hand. Something draped over his fingers.

Slowly, nearly groaning with the effort, he lifted his hand and squinted at the gecko’s gift. It was a small, knotted length of leather, broken in one place. His hand clenched around it. He’d last seen it only hours before—on someone’s wrist.

“She’s alive,” said another man’s voice. “Get over here, help me lift her. Careful!”

“Oh God. Who would do this to her?”

“What do you mean, who?” another man demanded. “Malu disappeared at the same time, didn’t he?”

At this new voice, the injured man tensed. His good eye narrowed to a slit as if his gaze could penetrate the ferns over his head. Rage roared through him, hot and fierce, a deep, primal rumble in his chest battling to erupt from his throat. Though he hadn’t seen who had clubbed him and beaten the woman into unconsciousness, he knew. The evidence lay in his fist.

He held himself still, sweating with the strain. He mustn’t move yet. The enemy was just above him, but so was the injured woman and her rescuers. He wouldn’t risk their safety. The only one who knew he was down here was his attacker, who no doubt thought him safely dead. Before that kepolo returned to check, he’d be gone.

“Malu did this?” one man asked. “But…he seemed so nice. Are you sure? Maybe he was attacked too.”

“I’ll worry about Malu. Right now, all of you help me get this girl out of here.”

The footsteps moved slowly away, down the trail. The voices of the rescuers faded.

The voices in his head continued, steady and rhythmic, soothing, encouraging. Spreading his hands flat on the warm earth, he drew on the power of his island. He let the chant take him, let healing flow into his battered body.

Deep beneath him, the island rumbled as Pele stirred, sighing in her sleep. She sent a stream of heat and healing up through her island to him.

He must rest, gather his strength. The blow that felled him would have killed a lesser man, but he belonged to Pele, patroness of these islands.

One of her warriors. One of her Ho’omalu—ancient protectors of Hawaii.

Saturday, May 7th

Melia Carson climbed onto the Hawaiian Dive boat. As the shining white catamaran bobbed slightly under her feet, she grabbed the high railing for balance.

She couldn’t believe she was finally here in Kona, Hawaii, with palm trees swaying overhead and the tropical sun warming her clear to her toes, an antidote to the chill of early spring in Oregon. Hopefully, it would warm the chill in her heart as well.

Hot, buttery sunlight poured down on the boats, the shore and the clustered palms. Two long canoes slid by, paddles flashing as the teams propelled their crafts toward the mouth of Kailua Bay.

 “Hey, Melia, you made it.” A small group of people stood in the prow of the boat. One of them waved at her. The afternoon breeze coming in off the ocean tousled his streaked blond hair. “Come and meet everyone.”

Dane was surrounded by the same people she’d seen him with in Kona—two men and two women, young, glossy and tanned. And someone new.

He lounged against the rail like an ad for sexy Hawaiian vacations. He was big, Polynesian heritage clear in his build. He wore a pair of long, red swim trunks over one of the most impressive physiques she’d seen, Hawaiian from his golden skin and short black hair to the dark tattoos on one side of his broad, smooth chest and one huge shoulder. His white teeth flashed as he smiled. Still smiling, he  turned and looked at Melia.

Melia took one look into his ebony eyes and felt a solid thunk in her middle, as if that dark, liquid gaze had reached clear inside her. A shiver of heat rocked her to her core, signaling the force of their collision. She’d never seen this man before, but in some visceral way, she felt as if she knew him.”

Hope you enjoyed the excerpt!

Aloha, Cathryn!

http://www.cathryncade.com

Guest Author & Giveaway: Cornelia Amiri

Dance of the Vampres by Cornelia Amiri

The culture of the ancient Celts and the mist and magic of Wales, Scotland, and Ireland fascinates me. The paranormal beliefs in Celtic mythology inspire me. I’ve always seen seductive blood suckers such as vampires as more feminine than masculine, but in the old horror movies they are mainly men. Yet the Celtic fey vampiric creatures are all women, which makes more sense to me. 

I am intrigued by folk takes of a type of Celtic vampiric fey, the Scottish baobhan sith (baa'-van shee), who wear green dresses and in some legends have goat hooves for feet. They are also called dancing vampires. The gorgeous temptresses appear before their human victims, usually young men coming from the local pub late at night. Clad in scanty, green silk dresses displaying their shapely, sensuous bodies they entice these stumbling men to dance with them. Burning with desire for the hot embrace of a seductress’s slender arms and the softness of a dancer’s supple thigh, the men enjoy dancing with the baobhan sith, at first. Once the men grow exhausted of the nonstop dancing, the baobhan sith strike. Without warning, their long nails transform into talons of death, to rip the flesh of their victims and drink of the crimson stream. They don’t have fangs, their nails extend like claws and they use them as a deadly weapon. 

Some of the other ways Celtic vampires differ from their more traditional, fang growing counterparts is they don’t turn mortals and no one stakes them through the heart. With the baobhan sith it’s all about the cairn. When a stone in a cairn is overturn, the baobhan sith are able to pass through to our realm. To get rid of them just stack the stones back on the cairn and they cannot leave their fey realm underhill. 

Of course I thought what a great character for an erotica paranormal romance and I wrote a quickie for Ellora’s Cave with a baobhan sith as the heroine, Dance of the Vampires. 

I have a blurb and excerpt of Dance of the Vampires below. I recently signed a contract with Ellora’s cave for a quickie sequel to Dance of the Vampires, which is titled Vampire Highland Fling. When I get a release date I’ll be sure to notify everyone with a tweet and a status update through facebook and twitter.   

Blurb: 

One of Ian’s six brothers kick over the stones of an ancient cairn, unknowingly freeing Sorcha and her six sisters from underhill. The seven handsome Scots are enchanted by the voluptuous temptresses until they turn on the men. Ian captures Sorcha, giving his brothers a chance to escape. With the dark fey woman still in his grasp, Ian is saved by the rising sun.

Her sisters vanish with the light of dawn and Sorcha is trapped in the mortal realm. The seductress can’t resist Ian’s attentions as he stirs throbbing urges she’s never felt before. Ian is bewitched by the wild delights offered by this vampire siren. He can’t get enough of her. Still, her wicked sisters and his highland brothers want nothing more than to attack and kill each other. Will Sorcha and Ian’s sizzling passion prove strong enough to overcome the differences between the dark fey and humans?

Excerpt:

Ian wobbled out the door of the pub ahead of his six brothers. Focusing as hard as he could, pushing one foot in front of the other, he stumbled across a field in the moonlight. A clump of gorse and heather brushed against his jeans.

"Brother, be careful not to step on a thistle in the dark," Lachlan yelled in slurred speech.

"I have my boots on," Ian snapped.

"Are you sure, little brother?" Malcolm, the oldest, called out. "You usually run barefoot and cry like a girl when you get a thorn in your foot."

"I was five years old the last time that happened." Tired of the lot of them, he stomped ahead. "I'd go off by myself and leave all of you here, but someone has to lead you home."

Well past midnight, silence engulfed the field until Calin burst out laughing and couldn't stop.

"Shut up," Angus, the middle brother, yelled.

"He's hammered." Errol nodded his head toward him. "He cannot help it."

"Well, I do not know what's so funny or why we had to leave right when I spotted the pretty women in the pub."

Tavish kicked a stone with his foot as he tromped through the grass with his brothers.

"Because we are all drunk." Lachlan's body wavered, leaning forward then back. "That is why the lassies started looking so bonny to you. Those were the same ones you called old and ugly when they first came in, you bampot."

"They were old, that was Liam's mother and aunt." Angus grabbed Tavish's head and jostled it back and forth. He ducked out of Angus' way.

"Ooch!" Ian jumped back.

"What is wrong with you?" Malcolm set his hand on his hip.

Ian pointed to the ancient mound of stones caked over with dirt and grass. "I almost stepped on a fairy mound." His stomach knotted.

"Brother, are you afraid of a pile of old stones?" Calin threw his head back and rocked with laughter.

"It's a cairn." Ian's heart still thudded from the near miss. "Any who disturb it will be cursed."

"I dare you to knock it over." Errol crossed his arms over his chest.

Ian stepped back, a horrified look on his handsome face. "I will not."

"I will." With long, sure strides, Tavish stepped toward the ancient gravesite.

"Do not do it." Ian's belly clenched even tighter, until he felt sharp jabs of pain.

Before the other six could stop him, Tavish drew back his foot and crashed it into the sacred cairn with a hard kick. A loud, sharp gasp from each of his brothers hung in the air. One lone stone rolled free of the mound.

Malcolm's mouth dropped open. "You disturbed the fey."

"You've done it now." Lachlan stepped back, attempting to separate himself from the sacrilege.

"He dared me." Tavish pointed at Errol. "I had to do it, now didn't I?"

"Errol's a turnip-headed bampot," Calin shouted. "You too, Tavish."

"I do not like it." Ian shook his head. "It's sacred. It's cursed." The knot in his stomach froze, growing as cold as ice.

"This is bad." Angus shook his head.

"Let's keep walking." Calin slid his foot forward with a confident stride.

Malcolm bobbed his head. "We should hurry home before something happens."

"We are," Errol snapped. "We're in this field taking a shortcut, remember?"

"Come on." Malcolm headed away from the disturbed monument. "Walk faster." He took the lead as the others followed.

"Look." Ian came to an abrupt stop.

His brothers froze as their gazes turned to where he pointed his finger. Seven women, all in odd dresses of green tartan silk, stood beside the cairn. Their lush, scarlet lips curved into smiles as seductive as warm kisses.

~~~~~

I’m having a contest to giveaway a pdf eBook of Dance of the Vampires. Please comment below to enter and include and your email so I can contact the winner.
For more of my Celtic/Romances, please visit me at http://CelticRomanceQueen.com, http://www.facebook.com/CelticRomanceQueen, and https://twitter.com/#!/CorneliaAmiri

Guest Author & Giveaway: Sidney Bristol

Hello! And thanks so much to Melissa for allowing me to guest blog today. These last two weeks have been crazy busy. My new book, Personal Adventures, released on the 18^th from Ellora’s Cave, my mom’s doing yet another twenty four hour cycling race, my dad’s off in New Mexico riding his horses and roping cattle for fun and there’s yet more books to be written and edited. It’s a good kind of busy and crazy, I wouldn’t trade it for anything! I know a lot of my activities in comparison to my parents seem rather tame. I write. They rope two hundred pound cows or stay on a bicycle for hundreds of miles. I still like to think I have a healthy sense of adventure thanks to the gypsy lifestyle I grew up with traveling around to rodeos. Yes, I’m a rodeo brat. Among other things.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m going to end up being That Relative at holidays who always tells That One Story. You know that story, about the time they and that other person did that really awesome stuff and things happened and it was so funny or crazy or neat, except you’ve heard it so often that it’s not anymore.

This got me thinking, what stories am I going to tell when I’m the cranky old cat lady with the flame-painted-walker? So, I submit to you my top five runners for, That One Story…

1. This one time, when I was living in Thailand, I didn’t think it was a good idea to warn the other Americans about the toilets. You see, in Thailand they use what’s called a squatty potty. Think of a porcelain toilet bowl set into the ground with rubber grips on the side, if it’s a fancy one. So it’s time to stop at a road side outhouse and the guide that’s driving us to the city we’ll be living in looks at me and says very seriously, “They need to use the bathroom.” I had to remember that I was an old hand to squatty potties, having been introduced to them in Russia. I had to take about eight very girly Americans into a cinderblock and plywood structure and demonstrate to them how to use a squatty potty. There are pictures, and here is proof. During this time, I also learned how to wash, clean and fry up crickets. They are a common snack food and taste like a cross between popcorn and fried green beans. It’s not the taste that gets you, it’s the legs stuck between your teeth.

2. When I was twenty, I got the opportunity to be a roadie for two of my favorite bands for a week. During those seven days, I broke my arm, refused to go to a hospital, had an earring mostly torn out of my ear, slept in my car, drank nothing but Rockstar and passed out in my best friend’s ultimate band guy crush’s arms. I had no clue who he was. I have nerve damage from not getting my arm looked at. But it was worth it.

3. This one time when I was on a ski trip, a really hot snowboarder and I took the pony tow up to the top of the mountain where the double black diamond runs were. At the time I was on snowblades, which are mini skis, think the roller blades of the snow sports world. A double black diamond ski run is incredibly hard, usually very steep and treacherous. But I was going to do it because there was the Hot Snowboarder. We select the run from the map we want to do, and head in that direction. The snow was beautiful, pristine, perfectly fresh. No one had skied on it that day. With a “Yahoooo!” we took off down this run. I took it at an almost straight shot down because I was trying to impress Snowboarder. At one point I even did a somersault, rolled to my feet and kept going. I was feeling pretty bad ass. We got to the bottom of that run where it joined kind of an easy trail that would allow us to return to the lift, and suddenly a swarm of ski patrol is all over us. Apparently the run had been marked off because they were setting off avalanche bombs to knock snow off the ridge. It took some serious groveling to keep our lift tickets.

4. I grew up doing rodeo, primarily trick riding, but I also got to do a few stints as a rodeo clown. This one time I’m out in the arena in full rodeo clown get up, and I can’t get back to the barrel fast enough before a steer that had just been bucked charged me. I wound up being shoved against the fence and tossed around like a rag doll by this eight hundred pound steer. I escaped mostly unharmed, save some interesting bruises. I finished the performance and my mother never let me be a rodeo clown again.

5. This story has a lot in common with #2 up there. For about two years I played and was part of the local roller derby league. I worked my butt off to get on a team, and put in a lot of time skating outside of practices. A speed skater friend of mine and I went to a public skate and thanks to a tweenager skating the wrong direction, I had to make the choice to either hit the kid going really fast and hurt her badly, or go face first into the wall. I went into the wall and fractured my knuckles. The doctors didn’t want to cast it and wanted me to not practice. I’d worked too long to not play, so I duct taped my hand to a piece of plastic under my wrist guards and went to practices anyways. That’s dedication. It was also a really stupid choice.

I’m going to give away a copy of my book, Personal Adventures, and a $5 gift card to the winner’s choice of either Barnes & Noble or Amazon. To enter, answer the following question AND leave a way to contact you, either email or twitter handle. The contest will end in 48 hours, and the winner will be chosen at random.

Do you have a relative that tells a story so many times you can recite it? Want to give us your rendition?

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It can never be said that Sidney Bristol has had a ‘normal’ life.  She is a recovering roller derby queen, former missionary, and tattoo addict. She grew up in a motor-home on the US highways (with an occasional jaunt into Canada and Mexico), traveling the rodeo circuit with her parents. Sidney has lived abroad in both Russia and Thailand, working with children and teenagers. She now lives in Texas where she splits her time between a job she loves, writing, reading and belly dancing.

You can keep up with her by checking out her Website, where you can see her latest releases, blog and sign up for the newsletter. She’s active on both Twitter and Facebook.

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Personal Adventures

Coming May 18th from Ellora’s Cave.

Carey's had the hots for his best friend and outdoor adventures coworker Elise for two years, but the timing has never been right. Now they’re both single and Carey wants to entice her into an adventure that’s about just the two of them. In the bedroom, in the hot tub, under the beautiful Colorado sky…

Elise doesn’t buy into the idea of love, but lust she understands. Carey’s friendship is important, but a relationship doesn’t fit into Elise’s five-year plan. She isn’t looking to repeat her parents’ mistakes.

With secrets coming out from under every rock and desire unchecked, this adventure might make more than the water on their rafting trips rush.

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Excerpt

Elise gulped down a deep breath to steady her nerves and pushed away from the shed. Her stomach fluttered and her palms were moist. The cool evening air caressed her legs and whispered up her skirt, kissing bare flesh. Her nipples were tight, hard peaks. She had tried to find her one real bra with actual lace, but it had been a lost cause. If it wasn’t for her lack of breasts she could have borrowed one of her roommates’ bras like she’d “borrowed” the dress she wore. Her breasts weren’t much more than walnuts, but it was the idea of getting ready that had mattered at the time. She didn’t typically need to wear a bra and she never wore a dress, but she’d do both for Carey.

Ahead, light spilled from every window in the cabin. The tall pines stood sentinel around it. It was a beautiful home he’d had built not long after taking the job at Adventures. She’d been jealous of it in the beginning, but she spent a lot of time there, so she got to enjoy it almost as much as he did.

The house was a variation of the single-room cabins settlers used to build, very no-nonsense. A dividing wall separated his bedroom from the rest of the house, and the bathroom had an entrance into both spaces. The front and back porches made up three fourths of the square footage of the actual house, and more often than not was where they hung out. Again, he’d used local people to build it. In true bachelor style, it was furnished with comfort in mind, but that was how she liked things as well, so she had no complaint about the cabin or Carey. Except that she wanted what he had.

As she stepped around the truck, her stomach threatened to mutiny. Who was she kidding? She didn’t have any business being here.

Movement in the far right window rooted her to the spot. Had he seen her? If he hadn’t, maybe she could back out of the drive and leave. Peering at the window, she waited for any sign that she might have been seen.

Carey stepped into view, perfectly framed by the window, buck-ass naked. And what a nice ass it was. The round globes were as tan as his chest. Elise imagined him sunbathing naked on the rocks behind his house. Her mouth dried. Wide shoulders tapered to a stomach she knew was firm and flat. He was muscular from hours of hard work, not hanging out at a gym. The tattoo circling his right arm stood out as the only bit of color. She’d gone with him to get the tattoo and let him squeeze her hand. It was a simple black silhouette of the mountains, but it symbolized his love for the great outdoors.

He turned, giving her a profile shot. His head tipped forward and his hand grasped his cock. He didn’t jerk himself hard, but it was a strong touch, sliding up his stiff flesh.

Oh god. Elise’s heart knocked against her chest and her breath hitched. She wanted to do that. She wanted to feel his skin against her palm, caress him in a way that would make him groan.

Her knees wavered at the hedonistic thoughts. Swaying, she caught herself with a hand against the hood of his truck.

The headlights flashed and the horn began honking. Elise yelped and jumped back, her heart racing as the continuous sounds of the alarm echoed through the night. She looked from the truck to the window—

Carey was gone.

“Shit!”

Guest Author & Giveaway: Anne Hope

 I’d like to thank Melissa for having me over today. I look forward to chatting with all of you about one of my favorite subjects…angels!

I’ve always been a huge fan of angels. As far back as I can remember these celestial beings have fascinated me, whether it was watching Michael Landon rescue one lost soul after another in Highway to Heaven or Nicolas Cage take that life-altering fall to be with the woman he loved in City of Angels. On Supernatural, Castiel is one of my favorite characters. Seeing him struggle with human weaknesses and emotions, while trying to stay true to his mission, has kept me glued to the screen. Even when he lost his way, he still had the power to captivate me.

Angels have figured prominently throughout history. Some stories depict them as benevolent and kind beings, whose sole purpose is to guide humanity. Others cast them in a much darker light—the avenging angels, as powerful as they are lethal, with secret agendas of their own. Both versions offer their unique brand of charm and appeal.

Why are these winged heroes and heroines so enthralling? What makes them so interesting to watch or read about? Maybe it has something to do with them being a symbol of hope and goodness. Maybe it’s all the heavenly powers they possess. Or maybe it’s the ever-present threat that they will be seduced by the dark side.

In Soul Bound, book one in my new paranormal series, I explore the secret world of fallen angels and their cursed offspring. It’s a classic tale of good vs. evil, where a man must fight his dark nature in order to save the one woman he’d sacrifice everything to protect.

Jace Cutler awakens in a hospital room in Portland, Oregon, with no memory of his past and a big hole where his soul used to be. With the help of his doctor, Lia Benson, he embarks on a dangerous journey to unravel the mystery of who he was and what he’s become.

Unfortunately, nothing is what he expects it to be. Everyone is surrounded by a strange white glow, people are suddenly doing everything he tells them to do, and creatures with inhuman strength and twisted agendas relentlessly hunt him. Worst of all, he’s starting to think he may be one of them.

As for Lia, she’s always been ruled by reason, refusing to put stock in such nebulous things as destiny. Until Jace dies in her arms, then miraculously comes back to life. Suddenly she’s consumed by odd dreams she’s convinced are Jace’s lost memories, and everything points to the fact that he’s her soul mate. But is he also the one destined to destroy her?

Are you a fan of angels? If so, why do you think these heavenly beings hold such universal appeal? Comment for a chance to win a free digital copy of Soul Bound, the first book in my Dark Souls series and a Romantic Times Top Pick! Open International.

Excerpt:

“Not like that. Put your weight into it.” Jace had spent the better part of the morning sharing some of Regan’s hard-earned lessons with Lia, until the sun’s rays had grown fierce enough to shred the fog. Now the grass gleamed a brilliant green beneath a spattering of weeds and wildflowers. “When you strike, you gotta make sure you hit your mark or your target will retaliate, harder and with far more precision.”

“I’m a healer, not a warrior.” Puffs of air escaped her lips, reminding him that she didn’t share his newfound stamina.

“Can you really be one without the other?” he challenged.

Boldness flared in her gaze, right before she lunged, her fingers fastened around the hilt of the dagger Regan had left behind for precisely this purpose. The blade struck him dead center in the heart, and he smiled. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

“I still can’t wrap my brain around the fact that you can’t be stabbed. My bones are still reeling from the blow.” She ran her palm over his chest where the blade had glanced off him. “It’s like you’re made of stone.”

He wished that were true. Then he wouldn’t have to struggle not to sweep her into his arms and wrestle her to the ground, wouldn’t ache to claim her lips or feel her soft curves mold to the hard planes of his body.

“Your turn.” A silent dare resonated in her voice, and he froze.

“I’m not stabbing you.”

“I was referring to your other idea. The one about you wrestling me to the ground.”

Great. She’d read his mind again. He really had to get a handle on his thoughts or they’d end up in serious trouble.

“Lia—”

She edged in closer, and her breasts grazed his chest in a tantalizing caress. “You don’t need to fight it anymore. What happened yesterday proves I’m immune.”

“You heard Regan. Being immune doesn’t necessarily mean your soul can’t be taken.”

“By an Ancient. Last time I checked, you weren’t an Ancient.”

His glance drifted to her lush, inviting mouth. It would’ve been so easy to swoop down and swallow it, so easy to drink from the sweet well of delights it promised. But fear nagged at him. What if she was wrong? What if he was the one who could break her?

His head fell forward even as his body retreated. “I can’t.”

Her frustration and disappointment rippled through the air. For a brief second he almost gave in, reached out and grabbed her. It took all the willpower he possessed to keep his hands from closing around her shoulders, his arms from crushing her to him.

Inhaling a deep, tempering breath, he sat on an old tree stump and gazed at the horizon, where land met sea and trees conspired to block out the fickle sun.

Lia crouched beside him, clutched his hand and rested the side of her face on his knee. As if guided by a will of their own, his fingers twined in the silky threads of her hair. Warmth tangled his gut, slowly spread to inundate him. It made no sense that she could be so right for him when he was all wrong for her. That her touch could infuse him with strength, even heal him, while his kiss risked shattering her mind and ruthlessly draining her of life.

“You’re wrong.” She gazed up at him, her eyes more startling in their blueness than the sky. “You won’t hurt me. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do.”

“Stop sneaking into my thoughts.”

“I’m not. You’re broadcasting them again.”

“So change the channel.”

She hooked her hand behind his neck, determinedly drew his face to hers. “What if I don’t want to?” Her breath swept across his mouth, made his whole body stiffen and burn. The gaping hole in his chest pulsed. “What if I want to hear your thoughts when you kiss me?”

“I’m not going to—”

With a quickness he failed to anticipate, she bridged the reassuring distance between them and claimed his mouth.

 Anne Hope

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Military Week: Cat Johnson

CAT JOHNSON’S RED HOT & TRUE BLUE MILITARY HEROES

I get asked the same question a lot—why did I start writing military romance? The answer is easy. I loved reading military romance. Suzanne Brockmann and Alison Kent were fixtures on my keeper shelf, so when I got my first romance contract in 2006, I asked my then editor, if I tried my hand at a military romance would she be interested? Her answer was yes.

That was the birth of the Red, Hot, & Blue series, currently releasing with Samhain Publishing. It started out with a team of SpecOps, but as I began researching the details for those first stories and came in contact with actual deployed troops, my ideas and story began to focus more on the tankers, the infantry, the boots on the ground. And as the war changed, the hot spots moving from Ramadi, Iraq to the border provinces in the mountains separating Pakistan from Afghanistan, so did my settings change to reflect the reality.  Reading through my series from book 1 the reader will notice the shifts—from the elite BlackOps, to the soldiers dodging snipers in Ramadi, to the slight side turn the series takes when I focus on the hometown and the family members of some of the military heroes, to the eventual move to the new hotspots in Afghanistan.

I hope the readers enjoy the journey as much as I enjoyed getting to know those real life men who inspired the stories.

Cat Johnson

www.catjohnson.net

http://twitter.com/cat_johnson

http://facebook.com/catjohnsonauthor

A FEW GOOD MEN (Red, Hot, & Blue Novel) by CAT JOHNSON

eBook release June 19, 2012, PREORDER now from:

Samhain Publishing

Amazon Kindle

Barnes & Noble Nook

Books on Board

Please enjoy the following excerpt from A FEW GOOD MEN…

He has met the enemy…but he’s never fought desire like this. 

Deployed in the deadliest place on earth, Army Staff Sergeant John Blake relies on caffeine, adrenaline, years of training and sheer force of will to get through his days. He has no problem with his tank crew passing around a sexy romance novel, but John’s a fighter, not a lover. He’ll pass. Winding up as the author’s accidental pen pal wasn’t in his plan, but there’s something about her sweet, caring emails that has him looking forward to checking his inbox.

Week after week, Maureen Mullen, aka erotic romance writer Summer Winters, has dated one loser after another in a quest to find the last decent man on earth. Now it seems she’s found him—halfway around the world. When it comes to falling for unavailable men, she’s batting a thousand.

Gradually, the emails between the war-hardened warrior and the writer of passionate prose heat up to the point of keeping them up warm and wanting at night. Soon they’re wondering if it’s possible to build something solid out of cyberspace, or if it’s just an emotional mirage that will dissolve in the heat of reality.

Warning: Contains some steamy phone calls from the war zone and one hell of a sexy first meeting between two strangers who are already in love.

Excerpt:

Jazzy had been alive when the medevac helicopter took him away, but now that John knew he would be fine, he was pretty sure he wanted to kill him.

John ran his hands over his face. “Why can’t you wait to email her when you get out of here?”

“Because the docs say I can’t leave this hospital bed for almost a week, and then I have to go straight to my bunk and not move for another week except to go to the head. So you have to do it. I can’t be wandering around the MWR. I might collapse and injure myself.” He held a hand to his ribcage and looked pitiful.

“Look. I have no problem calling your wife for you. Hell, I’ll even contact your grandmother and dear old aunt if you want, but I am not emailing your sex-writer pen pal, Summer Winters.” John was sticking to this resolution even though Jazzy was giving him the hurt puppy eyes.

He watched the man in the bed before him shrug and then wince in spite of the large number of painkillers John knew was coursing through his veins. The areas covered with white gauze bandages outnumbered those without, making the concussion and contusions seem worse. But John was well aware that with explosions it was the internal injuries that could kill you, no matter how good or bad the exterior looked.

“That’s okay, sir. It’s not like I got injured following an order you, my superior officer, gave me or anything—oh wait. It is exactly that.” Jazzy couldn’t suppress the grin that crossed his lips.

He was trying guilt now? Dammit, though, it was the truth. Jazzy had been out of that tank and in harm’s way following his order.

John growled, a low rumbling sound of frustration and defeat. “I really hate you right about now. You do know that, don’t you?”

Jazzy smiled wider. “Yes, sir. And might I add you’re not the first superior officer I’ve had say that. So her email address is summer at summer winters dot com. Do you want me to write that down?” Jazzy picked up the pad of paper and pen he kept on his bed so he could write his wife daily.

“No, thank you. I believe I can remember that very complicated address.” John scowled until his lips formed one tight line.

Don’t miss the rest of The Red, Hot, & Blue Series from Samhain Publishing

Available Now:

Trey (Book 1)

Jack (Book 2)

Jimmy (Book 3)

Red Blooded (a print compilation of the eBooks Trey, Jack and Jimmy)

Jared (Book 4)

Cole (Book 5)

Bobby (Book 6)

Coming Soon:

A Few Good Men (Book 7)

Model Soldier (Book 8)

A Prince Among Men (Book 9)

If you enjoy military romance, comment and tell us why!

Contest: Cat will be giving away to one lucky commenter their choice of the following Red, Hot & Blue series eBooks: Choose from Trey, Jack, Jimmy, Jared, Cole or Bobby. (International entries included)

Military Week: SE Jakes

SE Jakes Salutes the Military

When Mel asked me to join in this salute to military heroes, saying yes was so easy.  When she asked me to talk about why I write military romance, that was even easier.

First of all, military men (and women) are true heroes.  What better character base is there?   Honorable, loyal, protecting our country…just thinking about their sacrifices is enough to bring tears to my eyes.  I know many military men and women and I’m so thankful for their service.

As for military romance…for me, there’s nothing better.  It’s one of my favorite genres to read, so writing it is a natural bent.  There’s nothing better than a man in uniform – he’s alpha tough, strong as hell, save the world badass…and those are my favorite type of men when they fall in love.  All that and the added vulnerability makes them that much more compelling.  Because when warriors fall, they fall hard. When I decided to combine these men in uniform with m/m romance, I knew I’d found my niche. 

My next book in the Men In Uniform series is called BOUND BY DANGER – for those keeping track, it’s Tomcat’s story and he and Jace we definitely combustible.

The danger that drew them together could send them over the edge…

Playing the role of enforcer in the Killers motorcycle club, all CIA operative Clint “Tomcat” Sommers has to do is make sure he has a body to show for his work. Thanks to his ability to move stealthily and easily between the two worlds, the CIA is damned close to making one of its biggest MC gang busts.

Two years undercover have taken their toll, but there’s no backing out now. Tomcat’s only reprieve from the pressure is fantasizing about the newest member of the gang.

Worry for his cousin’s involvement in the Killers drove Navy SEAL Jace Reynolds to agree to infiltrate the gang to do some short-term surveillance for the FBI. The deal: do the job, and his cousin gets witness protection. When he meets Tomcat, though, his fantasies kick into overdrive. Meeting men while on active duty is tough. Acting on his desires within the club could have deadly consequences.

Despite the risks, Tomcat’s and Jace’s off hours flare hotter than a full-throttle burnout. But the smoke is bound to attract unwanted attention. And when Tomcat suddenly disappears, the secrets both warriors keep could send one of them to the grave.

Product Warnings:

Contains two hot men undercover—and under the covers. Both with secrets under wraps that could cause everything to unravel in the deadliest way imaginable. If you’re inspired to try something new on a motorcycle, go for it. Just don’t blame the author for any pulled muscles.

Here’s an excerpt from somewhere in Chapter One:

He dragged the boy behind him, his gun down at his side until they reached his car. Safely inside, neither man said a word until Tomcat pulled in to the garage that attached to the building where his loft was.

His loft—the entire building, actually—was CIA-owned and had been a part of his long-assed cover. His loft was steel-reinforced, soundproofed, had bulletproof glass with blackout tint, and no one was allowed up here, not even the agent who played his old lady—for her safety. Still, it was furnished so anyone who visited wouldn’t notice any of the high-tech gadgetry or the insulation.

He still checked for bugs daily and changed the alarm code every morning as well.

Now, Jace came in behind him, and Tomcat closed and locked the door, alarmed it and swept the room silently.

“Can’t be too careful,” he said, more to himself than to Jace when he was finished. Jace would think the paranoia normal for someone in the MC, especially a hired gun.

If he thought differently, it didn’t show. He just nodded, at least until Tomcat slammed him against the wall, his gun pulled.

“You set me up?” he demanded.

“No.” The kid barely blinked, even with Tomcat’s elbow at his throat, gun to his head. “In case you didn’t notice, I saved your ass.”

Then he leaned in and whispered, “UC. I’d say Fed, but I think you’d be offended.”

Tomcat pressed the gun harder to Jace’s temple, but still he continued, “Spook,” with a warm puff of air against Tomcat’s cheek. “I’m young, but I’m not dumb.”

No, indeed; to be a special forces soldier, he wouldn’t be. He could be as dangerous as Tomcat himself was, if not more so.

“I know you need to deny it, but dude, come on,” Jace said.

“Dude, you need to shut it.” But Tomcat wanted more from him. The man was so close—they were both hard—and no, he definitely hadn’t been wrong about Jace’s wants.

“We clean in here?” Jace asked. “I saw you sweep, but I still need to know.”

Tomcat ignored his question, said instead, “You fucked up my job.” When Jace didn’t answer, he admitted, “We’re clean here.”

“I was stopping you,” Jace told him.

“Why? Trying to save my soul? Don’t bother.”

“From shooting Jerry’s brother. It was a setup.” Jace stared at him with those goddamned deep blue eyes. What the hell—had Tomcat gotten sloppy, or was the club being deliberately sly because they’d stopped trusting him?

“How do you know this?” he demanded.

“I’m a little smarter than the average MC member.”

What he meant was better trained, would notice far more than the others. And Tomcat had no reason not to trust him. “You’re going to have to tell me everything you know.”

Jace nodded, and he did, told him about the rival gang’s—and its president, Jerry’s—issues. “It’s not about you—Cools trusts you. But he also knows that if you killed Jerry’s brother, Carl would be blamed, and it could start the internal war they want. Cools wants a leg up on Jerry and Carl’s territory.”

Damn. Tomcat slid a hand through his hair and turned away. He knew that the Killers fought with lesser gangs like Carl’s all the time, but he hadn’t seen this coming.

“You’re not telling them I ratted, are you?”

“Never.”

“I’d trust you more if you were an MC member.”

Tomcat wanted to be offended but couldn’t. There was too much truth in that statement. Finally, he put his gun away, pocketed it but kept his arm on Jace’s throat. Mainly because he was enjoying the proximity, never mind that his entire job could be blown to shit.

But this kid wouldn’t turn him in. The consequences to his career would be too great.

“We’ve got to lie low for the weekend, especially since we’re already well into Saturday.” Tomcat stared at him hard. “You’re sure no one saw you?”

“They know there’s nothing I can do without putting my military career on the line. No one fucks with me—no one follows me.”

Tomcat didn’t know how completely true that was, but if what Jace had told him about the setup proved true, there were way too many people watching Tomcat’s six. Hell, even one was too many. “You’re going to have to drop out and figure out a story as to why we met up.”

Jace shrugged. “Can’t we just be hanging out? I mean, your background’s military. They know that. Keeping the lie as simple as possible and as close to the truth usually works best.”

Tomcat finally pushed away from him because he needed space. Needed to think. He poured himself a soda and chewed on some crushed ice as he mulled Jace’s suggestion over. Could work, he supposed, but something nagged at him.

He didn’t want anything about this mission to come back and haunt him. And Jace…hell, they’d killed men for less. “Why the hell did you think hanging out with this group would be such a good idea?”

Jace’s jaw tightened—if he had an answer, he wasn’t about to spill it. Not tonight, but Tomcat was confident he could get it out of him, so for the moment, he changed tactics. “You hungry?”

“Maybe.”

Yeah, SEALs ate like teenage boys. He was pretty sure Jace was no exception. “Fridge is stocked. Make yourself comfortable. Oh, and give me your phone.”

He brushed past Tomcat. “Make me.”

Oh, this boy was going down. Would lie writhing and begging under him by the time all was said and done.

It was like Jace knew it, too, and was taking advantage as much as possible before that happened. And after the boy downed a sandwich or two and a soda, Tomcat asked, “So the only reason you found me was to warn me?”

“Yes.” Jace flicked his gaze coolly over him.

“I don’t think so.” Tomcat was done forcing himself to believe it was nothing more than a natural suspicion—he knew better. “No one knows I live here. No one knows you’re here. Do you understand how much trouble you could be in?”

Jace moved from the table over to where Tomcat was pacing. He slid his body in between Tomcat’s and the wall and breathed, “Yeah. Go ahead and punish me.”

There were inches separating them, and Tomcat liked to pretend he was made of steel—and most of the time it worked—but the proximity was too much. Jace might’ve been teasing, but Tomcat would up the ante, take it to the next level and see what the boy would do then.

The boy. An intimate term he’d never thought he’d use on anyone again. This night was turning out to be full of surprises.

***

You can purchase Bound by Danger in eFormat (print comes out Summer 2013) at:

Samhain | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

MEN IN UNIFORM SERIES:

Bound By Honor (Bk1)

Bound By Law (Bk 2)

Ties That Bind (Novella)

AMAZON LINK TO ENTIRE SERIES

To find out more about the series, you can visit me at

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So, now that you know a bit about my series, tell me, do you read m/m books or books with m/m storylines?  If not, are you willing to try?  I’m excited that authors like Suzanne Brockmann and JR Ward are making headway in this genre and I’m hoping that means we’ll see even more m/m (or f/f) storylines in mainstream romance.  

Leave a comment and one person will win all four (4) ebook in the Men In Uniform Series. Also two (2) runners-up will get their book of choice.