Friday, August 26, 2016

Acadia's Revenge Blitz

Acadias_Revenge_by_Tracy_Ellen(1)

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Blurb
A toe-curling, nail-biting science fiction/apocalypse-romance series you won't want to miss!
Acadia King never imagined the catastrophic event she’d diligently planned years for would be an infection turning normal people into violent crazies, nor had she ever thought surviving a global pandemic would be easy. But now that the worst nightmare has happened, Acadia is damn sure defending her home against the infected is her number one priority. Nowhere near the top of that priority list is her personal issue of a younger football player inexplicably proclaiming his love, even if he's the hottest man left on earth. Acadia's stubborn determination to ignore her personal feelings for Rod works, but then tragedy strikes. Tryg Johnson, the psychopathic leader of the Iron Fists biker gang, is back and proves he'll do anything to get revenge on Acadia. Now Acadia is all about getting personal. Undying Love Series Acadia's Law: Book One Acadia's Revenge: Book Two Acadia's Apocalypse: Book Three (Fall 2016) *The Undying Love Series is written for the entertainment of an adult audience and contains strong language, violence, and sexual situations. Stay in touch and sign up for Tracy Ellen's monthly newsletter. www.tracyellenink.com 

Acadia Bookmark backUSE 7.19 updated

Excerpt
 TOE-CURLING ROMANCE! Rod lowered his mouth to mine, and I lost myself in his kisses. My desire for him roared back to life with every lick of his talented tongue. In seconds, his mouth brought me to that hazy place where nothing matters except getting our hands all over each other, and the throbbing need begging to be filled between my legs.   

TeaserAd-Undying-Love-Series-by-Tracy-Ellen 

Barbara whispered anxiously. “How are we going to kill it, Acadia?” I glanced over my shoulder towards the dark ramp. Where were my three Sir Galahads of the big gonads when I needed them? Yes, I pride myself on being a resourceful, strong, intelligent woman. But sometimes, like when certain jobs need to be done such as taking out the garbage, changing out a flat tire, or shooting the brains out of a jaw-snapping, vicious crazy trying to eat you, being a member of the weaker sex ain’t so bad. Unfortunately, this was not one of those times. “Babs,” I blew out a shaky breath in resignation, “guess who’s smart enough to know when she’s about to do something really, really stupid?”     

Tracy_Ellen_author_pic

Meet Tracy Ellen...

Tracy Ellen was born in Indiana to middle-class parents, the third out of five hellions. She often used her supernatural powers to compel her family members to listen to her talk and tell stories. When that tough crowd laughed of their own free will, Tracy knew the world would someday, somehow be her stage. Now she’s a full-time writer living her dream. Tracy’s resided in the Midwest her whole life--in a small town, on a farm, and in the big city. Currently, she lives in the suburbs of St Paul, Minnesota with her husband and family. Stay in touch by checking out Tracy’s website, and then signing up for her monthly newsletter to be notified of new books coming your way, giveaways, and exclusive content. She also has a fetish about giving fun surprise gifts to her lovely newsletter members every edition. (Hint: She hopes that entices you to her website.)  

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The Draig Series Promo Tour

 
THE DRAIG SERIES
by Lisa Dawn Wadler
Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing
Genre: time travel romance


Rescuing the man tied to a tree seemed like a rational decision. Claire is a smart, capable bookkeeper who happens to work at a martial arts academy. She has no idea the door she walked through to save the bound man would leave her trapped in 13th century Scotland. She is unable to regret the night of passion shared with Ian, even though it happened with the threat of death just outside the door. She pretends to be content with Ian’s friendship, knowing his people must come first. Compelled by honor and tormented by desire, is being his woman, while he marries another, enough?

Ian, Laird of the Draig Clan, is a man trapped by fate. Forced by necessity to marry a woman he has never met, her dowry is essential to save his clan. However, he is in love with the woman who saved his life and then spent one night in his arms. Duty prevents Ian from being able to marry Claire as custom, honor, and his heart demand. Drawn to her, believing they share the same desires and dreams in life, he finally offers her the only option available, a place by his side and in his bed.

Claire and Ian are bound together in love and then ripped apart by deception and a plot to destroy the Draig clan. Facing the final battle alone and unarmed, Claire saves them all. The ultimate challenge is forgiving Ian for sending her away.


Claire closed her eyes. “No, Ian.” Scooting back away from him, she sat up, forcing his body to give her space as her shaking hands tried to put her gown in order. “We should have never . . . this should have never happened. I need to go.” She rose to her feet only to nd him blocking her way. He wrapped his arms around her.

Ian spoke with the passion burning within in him. “Please, Claire, hear me. There is a way. You and I were meant to be together. Dinna deny that you feel it, too. ‘Tis nay only passion that binds us, it runs far deeper for us both.”

Not wanting to hear what he had to say, yet unable to move away, her head rested against Ian’s chest. Claire pleaded with him. “Please don’t do this. We both know what you need to do.”

Holding her tightly, Ian responded, “Aye, we do. But we can still be together.” Claire stiffened at the words. “Hear me before you assume. There are many in my position that have wed solely for gain. These men have done as needed, as I will do. Yet they have also kept what they wished to have, the woman who stirs their heart. I am trying to ask you to be this, the woman who is with me because of the love between us. We can build a life this way. It would be us together every day and every night. You would be mine.”

Ian’s words were barely spoken before Claire pushed him away. “You are asking me to be your . . . your . . .?”

Ian retorted quickly, “Dinna speak the word you reach for. It would never be that way between us.” His hands reached for her but were left with only air.

Backing away from his reach, she knew what he meant. Claire also knew that it was wrong in so many ways. How does he not see it? How does he not see the root of it? A strange yet welcome feeling of calm passed over her as she saw what Ian was missing. She willed herself to speak. “You don’t get it do you?”

Ian tried to close the gap between them only to have Claire back away. Ian stopped moving. “What I see is a way for us to be together.”

Claire laughed even as the tears began to fall. “You’ve never ever met her, this Mairi. What if . . . Ian? What if she is someone you could be happy with? You don’t even know.”

“It does nay matter who she is or what she offers, ‘tis obligation and no more.” Ian replied as his gaze searched her face.

She heard her voice from so far away. “But you don’t know. It could be a good marriage. I will not be in the middle of something that could be.” Claire’s sobs clouded her words. “I can’t take that risk, and I won’t. If you could be happy, I would only be in the way. Eventually things between us would change.”

Ian stepped closer. “Claire, she will never be you. You are everything to me. Dinna you see? In all ways I treat you as my own. You sit at my right at every meal. ‘Tis my dagger you use to cut your meat, the dagger that marks me as laird. ‘Tis your company I seek each day and every night. You wear the best I have to offer. I heed your council in all matters. We spend our evenings together before the re sharing and enjoying one another. I love you, Claire, and I ken that you love me.”

“And somehow that isn’t enough.” With all of the pain and anguish carried in her, Claire cried out, “It would kill me, Ian. She is going to be your wife. I know full well she will give you a family, the heirs you need. It would kill me to be waiting for you, knowing you were with her. Even if you despise her, it would tear me up inside.” Ian’s brow wrinkled as he absorbed her words, and she saw her meaning take hold. “I’m not that person, Ian. I can’t be that person. And if you love me, you won’t ask me to live like that.” Not waiting for more, afraid he would try to change her mind and that she would let him, Claire grabbed her skirts in hand and finally ran.



In an attempt to save the world from destruction, physicist Major Samantha Sykes opens a door in time. Her plan to travel into the past to change the future has unexpected consequences. Trapped in 11th century Scotland, her mission is complicated by the love she never knew she was seeking.

Laird Faolan of the Draig clan has one desire: to claim the woman who fell through time and make her his. He will do everything in his power to convince Samantha that she belongs with him for all time.

Opening the door in time brings Samantha and Faolan together. Fate, destiny, and responsibility are at odds. The forces that brought them together may be their undoing.

Will their love survive Samantha’s journey back to her world to save time, or will the centuries that stretch between them tear them apart?

Faolan turned in the chair before the fire and stared at her with cold, dark eyes. Even bathed only in shadows from the fire, she could see that the warm chocolate gaze she remembered from the afternoon had been replaced by hurt and anger. Like a coward, she looked away and noticed the flames from the fire. The logs held the same pattern as the ones that burned in her hearth. Even hurt, he had left her the gift and made sure she was comfortable.

Samantha closed the door without facing the exit. Her hand held out the branch. “I wanted to thank you for this and for every other item you left on my pillow. It was only tonight I realized they were from you.” She stumbled through an apology. “Every single one made me smile.”

Still Faolan only stared, so she continued, “You left the hall today before I was finished. While it’s true that the safety of the men has to come first, that had no bearing on what almost happened between you and me. There is no way I would or could ever think about, I mean I wouldn’t . . . From the moment we rode onto your lands, my men have been safe. I’ve known that. So you and I have had nothing to do with them.”

Faolan looked away from her, and Samantha saw the dagger in his hands. Not held in threat, but his concentration seemed focused on the metal. He nally spoke while his hands toyed with the weapon. “What would have happened earlier if we had nay been disturbed?”

Samantha felt the sadness in her voice for what had been lost. “We would have had a perfect afternoon.”

Faolan rose to his feet and placed the dagger on the table. While he made no move to walk, he turned to face her. “I would have claimed you as my own. I would have kept you in that meadow until you agreed to enter my gates as my wife.”

“Then we would be there arguing, which ends the idea of a perfect afternoon.”

Her humor had no place in the confrontation, and she knew it as soon as the comment left her mouth. Faolan marched to stand in front of her. “Why is it more preferable for me to use you for quick pleasure than to ask you to stand by my side for all time?” He demanded.

The eyes that glared held no warmth and threatened to pierce the little control she still had. Boomer was right; Faolan deserved the truth, and she hated it.

Her hand reached up to touch his face, and Faolan stepped backward out of her reach. Tears pricked at the rejection. She mustered her courage. “I don’t have all of time to offer you.” Samantha told him everything she had explained to Boomer and finished with, “There is virtually no probability that I will return.”

The withheld tears fell when horror crossed his features. In the last few days, she had cried more than she had in the last five years. The emotions brought to the surface by involvement in life brought joy and pain. Unfortunately, the night before her would bring the strongest pain. Love had no place in her limited time, and she knew it.

“You are amazing and wonderful, and if I could be with you, I would without any hesitation. I can’t do that to you. Find a woman who will be here and love her.” Her words choked on a sob. “I know that your family is essential to making the future better. Continue this line and know that I wished I could have been here with you.”

Samantha wiped the tears with the sleeve of her gown, though more fell to take the place of ones erased. She added, “I’m close to finding my way back. I can feel it.” She paused to clear her throat. “In the morning, I’ll start to finish what I began five years ago. I only ask that the men can stay here if they choose. Only Boomer comes with me.”

Without a word, Faolan closed the short distance and pulled Samantha hard against his chest. Her face buried in the warmth of his chest as she cried and let out the anguish of goodbye. His hand held her braid while the other soothed her back, and she savored the last embrace.

When her sobs slowed, Faolan said, “I go with you.”

Her head shook. “You missed the part where your line needs to continue, and that means you stay here.” She left out that there was no way she would bring him into the misery left in her time.

The deep inhale could be felt as could the resignation at the exhale, and Faolan didn’t argue. When he spoke, he offered, “Your men are home here.”

“I know,” she whispered against his chest.

Samantha offered no resistance when he lifted her chin and shifted her body to find her eyes. “While you said a great many things, I dinna hear the word impossible.”

“Please don’t.” At his sweet thought, another tear fell.

His lips brushed her forehead, and he replied, “Spend the last of your days as my wife.”

She closed her eyes at the request. Samantha whispered, “Then what? How long will you wait for me to return when you know I won’t? I can’t do that to you.”

Faolan’s thumb wiped the moisture from her cheek. “Then I vow nay to wait.”

Against her wishes, the chuckle left her throat. She opened her eyes and found warm ones on her. Samantha said, “It’s probably for the best if I say goodbye.”

Samantha knew it would happen. Faolan lifted her face enough to place his lips against hers. Every brush sent tingles through her body. As his tongue sought entry, she complied. It began soft and sweet and carried an air of innocence. Then he demanded more as he pulled her body against his and kissed her with no control.

Faolan pulled away abruptly, he whispered, “Give me this night.”

The smile broke free on her face. It shouldn’t have surprised her that goodbye didn’t work. Samantha placed her hands on his cheeks and felt the soft stubble that graced his face at the end of each day. Her rational mind knew it would only make leaving harder. Yet the side of her Faolan had brought to life wanted him, wanted to know what it felt like to be loved by such an amazing man. She nodded. “Just now, Faolan. It’s all I have to offer you.”




Lisa began writing after reading yet another romance novel where the heroine needed a man to rescue her from physical harm. While a firm believer in the strong alpha-male hero in any story, she wondered what would happen if that hero met a woman who was able to take care of herself physically. Using her several years of Tae Kwon Do training and mixing in time travel, her multi-award winning debut novel, The Draig Series was born.

Lisa lives in the Chicago suburbs and is married to her high school sweetheart. They have two children and one very spoiled dog.

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Steve Wade Mysteries Promo Tour

 
STEVE WADE MYSTERIES
by Iris Wynne
 Publisher: Soul Mate Publising
Genre: Romantic Suspense or Cozy Mystery


Steve Wade is an ex-cop with an ex-wife and girlfriends he could never commit to. Now he’s a private investigator known for his knack in solving crimes.

This handsome private eye never has a problem finding customers. His newest case involves five frantic Mah Jongg players who are in search of one of their players who disappeared after meeting a man on an Internet dating site.

Wade is reluctant to take the case, believing it to be just another woman not wanting to be found. But the Mah Jongg players are insistent that Marilou did not vanish on her own. In the meantime, they organize a Valentine’s speed-dating gig inviting all the suspects who dated Marilou in an attempt to find her.

As he watches the dinner play out he begins to realize she may not have gone willingly when all the suspects are before him. He even hires his sometime drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend for the event to lure the culprit out into the open. Steve just hopes no one goes home with a potential killer.

Wade has to work fast as the case begins to unravel when lies and betrayal become evident and the truth of what happened to Marilou becomes clear. Will he be able to find the suspect before they choose another victim? This may be his biggest challenge yet.

Marilou Dickson was sitting at the bar, sixty miles away from Toronto on a Saturday night waiting for her date. The only problem was she didn’t know who he was. She got in touch with him on an online dating site and his picture looked great, even though he was much younger than her. A full head of dark hair, straight nose, large hazel eyes and great abs from a previous picture he sent her. She imagined his strong arms wrapped around her as he made love to her. She was tired of being alone as age and beauty were slowly taking its toll while drinking and smoking was becoming an obsession that a good man could help her control.

The noise in the bar was unbearable and she was dying for a cigarette. At least in the old days before cell phones and Internet, you could smoke. The place was packed with pretty girls in floozy outfits, some displaying unwanted flesh. Youth could get away with many things and the sleazier you got, the more attention from the men.

It was like that years ago before marriage and grown kids.

Her phone buzzed which made her spill her drink on her new gold cashmere sweater.

“Damn!” she said.

“May I buy you another drink?”

She looked up and there was her man, looking better in person.

“Hi!” she said tying not to slur her words.

“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered to her.

“What about my drink?”

“Let’s go to my place.” He smiled as his white teeth flashed at her.

She wanted to stay here and enjoy the bar and perhaps dance. She wasn’t ready to go to his place yet. She sighed and smiled up at him.

“Why don’t we just stay here?”

“You’ll get too drunk.”

She grinned at him, thrilled that he should be so concerned about her. Her phone buzzed again. She gave him a shrug.

“Sorry–I may as well answer this or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

She was going to tell him her friends were worried about her, warned her about going out with strangers–blah-blah. She decided not to say anything. She noticed that his hair was an unnatural black hue, almost like a wig. She wouldn’t care less if he was bald–didn’t men understand that? His glasses were tinted unable to really see the color of his eyes. Something in the pit of her stomach was telling her something was off. She answered her phone walking a distance away from him and the bar. He was watching her though, his look almost a leer. Perhaps it was because she was drunk that she thought this. Nevertheless she would not leave alone and go back into an empty house especially on a Saturday night.

“Marilou is that you?” Harriet said, her voice full of concern.

“What’s up, I’m in the middle of a date.”

“Just checking to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine really, you don’t have to worry.”

“Where are you?”

“Outside of Toronto.”

“What!”

“Harriet, I’m a big girl.”

She glanced over at him. He bought a drink and was sipping it rather quickly. He was watching her so she waved to him.

“What does he look like?”

“I don’t know, he’s wearing a dark wig and glasses.”

“Marilou, that is not a good sign.”

Harriet could hear a deep voice asking her friend something.”

“Gotta go Harriet, see you Monday night.”

There was a click and the line went dead.



Steve Wade is an ex-cop and now private investigator. His reputation for solving crimes is growing.

His newest client is a man charged with a murder he says he did not commit. The convict's sister has evidence that the person he supposedly murdered is alive and living somewhere in Shanghai after an old classmate of hers sees a double of the murdered victim while touring parts of Asia.

Is the murder victim, a woman, really alive and the man charged with her murder innocent?

Steve does not know what to think. Should he believe a convicted killer who was once a drug addict living on the streets? Steve however does not want an innocent man to spend the rest of his life in jail.

It's a dilemma he must think through and to try to prove the convicted murderer's innocence.

She had left her group and her husband in order to go to the Peace Hotel washroom which was one of or perhaps even the nicest washroom she had ever seen. Its decor was all black and white marble with gold faucets matching the gold chandeliers along the walls that lit the room. Each toilet had its own cubicle and a shiny black door. American style—no hole in the ground—to every tourist’s delight.

And that is when she saw her.

Connie stared at the woman beside her who was washing her face. A ghost from the past; a woman who was ostensibly dead four years ago. She blinked back at the woman a few times. She hadn’t seen her in over ten years. She had known her since childhood which was embedded forever as a memory.

And Connie Stern’s memory was exceptional. She was the type of person who never forgot a face.

The woman beside her was tall and slim. Her hair, once a shiny dark hue, was now peppered with gray. But those eyes were the same, an unusual dark green that glowed like emeralds. That was her trademark along with her natural beauty. She was the second child of a famous music producer from Toronto. His five beautiful daughters had lived in Rosedale, one of the wealthiest areas in Toronto. The youngest three were from another marriage, but they all lived together in harmony with the second wife, or so the story goes.

If that was Patricia Gold, she would be in her forties and the woman across from her was definitely that age. Her attractiveness was gone, though, after years of living on the street.

It had been a surprise in the community, to say the least, when she left her husband and children in search of drugs. Connie could not believe it when it happened. She had known Patricia well growing up and never saw a sign of it, of the unhappiness or the addiction to drugs. She did know, however, that Patricia wanted to be thinner so she could model. She glanced at her again. The woman glimpsed back at her briefly as she washed her hands.

Connie thought of Patricia's husband, whom she knew in high school. He was popular and could pick any girl he wanted. When they married, she and Patricia were no longer friends which always happened in a big city. Different universities, new jobs, and location changes all caused people to make new friends. Nevertheless, they were the perfect couple, everyone thought. Connie always had fond memories of her.

Connie put her hands in the dryer, peering over at the woman again. She remembered one of the last times seeing her. It was years ago when she and her own husband were walking their kids in strollers when Patricia and her husband drove by and asked them for directions to the nearest park. Their children were sitting in the back seat, silently staring up at them. It was only Connie who had recognized them but said nothing as her husband rambled off the directions. Too much time had passed for either of them to say anything. Everyone looked different with age anyway. Still, she never forgot a face.

Another time, she had seen her at a bar midtown, around Yonge and Eglinton. Connie and two of her friends had decided to go out on the town without kids or spouses, like old times. She hated it though, missing her husband and children, and was just as happy to be home with them. Let the singles have the single life, she had thought. But she did see Patricia Gold there, all dressed up, looking lovely, holding a drink with another old friend who Connie also knew in high school. Her friend was a runner and to this day would be seen running down Avenue Road as if the devil was trying to catch up to her.

And that was the last time she saw Patricia, until now, that is, if it was her.

She held her breath. “Patricia?”

The woman looked up and turned to her with a frown.

“Patricia Gold, is that really you?”

The woman’s green eyes opened wide along with her mouth. She stared back for a second and then ran out of the washroom, leaving Connie staring back at the swinging door. Connie put her hands down on the white granite sink and wondered, of all things, if the sink was real gold, gold plated or just painted gold. The chandeliers flickered and her reflection staring back at her in the mirror looked flushed and confused. Did she see a ghost or was it a double? She did what the other woman did and rinsed her face. She was wrong—she had hoped—and shook her head trying to ignore what had just happened. She would continue her vacation and carry on as if nothing had happened.

Iris has always wanted to be a writer even before her six-year-old daughter would sneak downstairs and read aloud her stories on the computer as she would type away. Iris has proof of this in an out dated filing cabinet crammed with old manuscripts and short stories in big binders containing historical romance, mysteries, even fantasy.

When she is not working at her computer waiting for a story to come to life, she is busy dog walking, or organizing a game of Mah Jongg and of course reading.

Iris lives in Toronto, Canada with her husband. Her children live on their own and her parents are relieved to receive a text message from them now and then.

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Thursday, August 25, 2016

Seeking Hope (Emerging From Darkness Book 3) Release Tour +Giveaway +Review

 
SEEKING HOPE
Book 3 of the Emerging From Darkness series
by J.M. Maurer

Candlemoth: A Holy City Romance Series Blog Tour

A Holy City Romance Tour Banner 

Candlemoth: A Holy City Romance

By Pauline West

Genre: Steamy New Adult, Romance

 

  CandleMoth1_Cover_HiRes 

BLURB

A bold and independent free spirit from the foster system of small town South Carolina, Lily is a survivor with skeletons in her closet. She knows what she wants and how to get it. And a spoiled rich playboy is not part of her plan- but Ry is irresistible.
Steamy, exciting and beautifully written, this dramatic romance will appeal to fans of Sylvia Day.
Book One in the Holy City Romance series about a wild and fun-loving group of twenty-somethings in Charleston, South Carolina.
 
Candlemoth 1 Teaser

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  CandleMoth2_Cover_HiRes 

BLURB

“The masterpiece of my life was having learned how to glass myself inward, burying my heart so deep I didn’t even know where it was buried.” - Lily Inoue Lily is a bold, passionate free thinker from small town South Carolina. Fiercely self reliant, the same strength that helped Lily survive a traumatic upbringing makes it difficult for her to trust anyone, especially Ry Calhoun. When Ry’s political obligations and Lily’s rising notoriety in Charleston threaten their relationship, Lily arrives into her most reckless act yet- and at incredible cost. The scorching second installment in the Holy City Romance series of steamy romance novels about a wild, fun-loving group of twenty-somethings in Charleston, South Carolina.

 Candlemoth 2 Teaser

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  Candlemoth Bourbon Milkshake Recipe

The only way this lush, ultra-deluxe festivity gets any nicer is if you can get Ry to hand-churn while you watch.
Place glasses in the freezer to chill for 30 minutes.
Make out wildly on the kitchen counter.
Pour ice cream, milk, ice cubes, bourbon and chocolate syrup into a blender and whirl.
Try before you pour- the milkshake should be thick enough to be fed to you by Ry with a spoon, so if it seems thin, add more ice cream and blend again while Ry wraps you up in his arms.
Download the Candlemoth series, pull out glasses. Serve with spoons.

Lock the door... and enjoy.

 

EXCERPT - CANDLEMOTH

I fitted my leg around Ry’s so that there was nothing between us but my panties and his linen pants, and he kissed me so savagely it sucked the air from my chest.
Oh, I wanted him deep inside me.
“I want to get on my knees for you,” Ry said, and everything in me tightened at the cultured, raspy purr of his voice.
“I think I’d like to see you on your knees,” I said, my voice raw and strange.
Ry, paused, smiling, his eyes slitted with lust. He kissed me differently then, with slow, lush slides of his tongue that made me ache to feel his mouth between my legs.
“Mm…”
His fingers curved roughly down around the front of my thigh, pushing the silky fabric of my dress up as he hunted towards my panties, lingering at the hem teasingly. His eyes danced, watching mine, as I moaned. My hips curled towards his and I felt the tips of his fingers slip beneath my panties.
I was the wettest I’d been in all my life, as if the whole center of me had melted into hot, silky lava. I cried out, pressing into his touch, plunging Ry’s fingers deep inside me, and he began to stroke with searing accuracy, the expression on his face both hot and tender.
“Ohhh,” I said, hanging from his sweet mouth. I stared up at the stars, crying out as their light slurred down over us.
I felt a fullness in me beginning to build, felt myself dizzily falling back, but Ry caught me in his other arm, propping me there against the wall as he drove his fingers into me again and again, rhythmic, relentless. His knuckles bit perfectly into my clit as he worked the tiny apple of sensitive flesh inside me. I almost screamed, feeling my orgasm flood forwards.
“You want to come for me?” Ry murmured, pressing his face into my hair possessively. I bit his shoulder, trying to stifle my cries. This sweet, layered agony-
“I want to come for you,” I gasped, “Please, please.”
“Come for me, Lily,” Ry said, pressing himself close as his fingers continued to work inside me, and I let the sensation crash through the gates of me, washing through again and again as I fell bonelessly against him, jerking a little with the aftershocks.
Ry smiled wolfishly, his eyes pale in the moonlight, their contrast delicious beneath his dark tan, his dark eyebrows. I thrilled again at how little there was between us, even as it terrified me how helplessly I’d fallen for him. I threw my arms around Ry’s neck, burying my face in his soft hair, locking my legs around his waist.
“You could make me do anything you want,” I said, softly.
He pinned me back against the wall again, his eyes shining. The fullness of his cock against me sent another shockwave through my body, and I leaned back, shivering with his touch, looking up at him.
“I’m drunk with you,” I whispered.
Ry began to grind into me, moaning in a low, strangled voice that made all the hair on my body lift with arousal. We kissed again so hungrily I thought we’d slide down and fuck there on the rough cobble stones.
But he put me down gently and led me by the hand through the gate. I followed, tugging my dress down. We were laughing soundlessly again, still a little breathless, and when we stopped at the door, Ry held his hand to his face and closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of me on his hand.
His eyes rolled slightly with pleasure, and then he bumped open the door with his hip, tugging me inside.
The silence of the house instantly folded around us. It felt different to kiss him there, in that unfamiliar dark. Ry lifted me off my feet against him and then sat me onto the kitchen counter, burying his face against my breasts. He squeezed my breasts savagely, until they began to feel heavy and swollen. Then he bit and sucked at my nipples through the wet silk of my dress.
The hot darts of pain made me hiss with lust.
“I need to make you come again, Lily,” he said, his hands forcing insistently between my thighs.
“I can’t, I can’t so soon,” I said, trying to close my legs, but he forced them apart with a strength that just rode the edge of violence. Ry sank his face into me hungrily, taking my hips firmly into his hands, the pressure from his fingers spreading my flesh so that the center of me was all the more bared to him as he opened his mouth against me.
I gasped, so slippery wet that I was soaked all down my thighs, my body begging to sheath him even as it couldn’t take any more arousal. My senses were so exquisitely tortured that I was afraid I’d pee on his lovely, hard-sculptured face.
But Ry’s tongue began to work in expert, slow circles against my clit. One of his hands found its way warmly between my thighs, drawing me tight, stretching me raw. I bucked against his face, my hands clawing at the counter.
“Please please no,” I said, “I can’t, I can’t take this-”
Ry held me steady, the hot, hard velvet of his tongue relentless against my swollen achy flesh, his eyes locking on mine greedily. My nerves sizzled raw. I felt microscopic shooting stars race up the insides of my thighs as he stroked at me continually, restlessly, brinking me to orgasm, letting me slide back down again. I was panting with lust, both our bodies misted wet with sweat. I could see droplets of it on my bared thighs, on the backs of his forearms, his neck.
Ry’s eyes glinted mischievously; he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
That turned me on all the more, even as it made me wildly jealous to know all the women he must have perfected his skills on. Every dial on my body was cranked farther than I’d ever dreamed I could go. The bliss of it was tortuous, unending. With every raw swirl of my nerves, I felt myself sucked all the deeper into his orbit, losing any control I’d ever imagined I’d had.
And then finally, Ry Calhoun decided to let me come. He sucked me up to the precipice of orgasm again, but this time dropped me over the edge with a hard lick. He stuck his tongue inside me as I came in a long, rolling orgasm around him.
“Oh god, oh god-” My cries were animal now, my body so wet that I slid on the counter. Ry dug further into me, his fingers opening me deeply. The effect was shattering. I lost my mind, bucking wildly, and almost blacked out with pleasure. He lifted my legs up onto the counter so I was securely supported as I pulsed hard and then began to sob, utterly released.
Ry moved his face back and forth as light as a butterfly on my thighs, tracing up my electrically lit body with his mouth, pausing gently at my tortured breasts, and then again at my lips.
As I curled inwards, he leaned over me, kissing me sweetly while I sobbed with relief, the gentleness of his kisses smoothing my ragged sense while his hands continued to stroke me lightly. After a moment, he pulled back, biting his lips, as if tasting me again. I looked up at him, too limp to move or speak.
“Now,” he said, “I’m going to fuck you to death.”
I couldn’t even speak English anymore.
I shook my head, trying to move away from him and his vampiric ecstasy. But even as I was overcome, I still felt a clawing, insatiable need for his body. Ry was like some unnameable drug; I was hopelessly addicted.
He began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the tight cut of his abdominals and upper arms. The immediate bolt of lust I felt for his touch drove home how much he already owned me. Ry tossed his shirt to one side, pulling me by one leg open to him again, and undid his pants.
His cock was enormous.
“I’m going to make you come so hard you can’t walk,” Ry said, darkly, pulling me into him like a slack doll. “You’ll have to stay here with me. Then I’m gonna nail you all morning...” His mouth on mine was like hot stone, and I couldn’t resist kissing him back, feeling myself heat up for him all over again as he slid me down to his cock. He ran his thumb inside me again, drawing my skin taut so savagely that I cried out and fell against him, raw and exquisitely stretched.
I throbbed with grinding lust, pulling myself upright again.
“Come fuck me.”
Ry drove himself inside me with a force that made me see stars, fitting his mouth over mine in one of his hungry, soul-sucking kisses, and I wanted all of it; I wanted him to batter me loose, fuck me to death, I didn’t care.
It felt so good that I couldn’t feel anything of myself anymore except a sheer, shooting, bodiless pleasure.
Our bodies were both drenched now, and it felt so good to clutch his hard, naked skin, to see the flash of his tattoo under my hand as I rode his thick cock to Kingdom Come. I let my head fall back, wanging it hard on the cupboards, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except-
I heard someone clear his throat in the doorway.
My eyes snapped open.
Silhouetted in the dim light from the street, an old man stood in the kitchen doorway. He was coolly drinking a cup of tea, his robe loosely belted so I could see the crisp white hair on his chest; his face was craggy and seamed from a lifetime of too much sun and rich food.
Even though his thick white hair was crazed on one side, as if he’d been unable to sleep and now was wandering aimlessly around the mansion, I recognized his face from the oil portrait I’d seen the day before.
Mr. Calhoun.
He was watching us as if we were stray dogs he’d caught fucking in his house for the thirtieth time. “Christ, another one?” Mr. Calhoun said, finally. He went back out into the hallway.
Another one.
What did I expect?
But my heart sank through the floor and dissolved. I was humiliated.
I’d been more emotionally exposed than I’d ever felt in my life- and just as suddenly, all the new flowerings in me folded up and died off.
I shoved Ry away, trying to cover myself with the damp ruins of my dress. But Ry had already half-turned, zipping up his pants hastily in a way that filled me with disgust.
“Dad-!” Ry said, rushing after him. Then, torn, he whirled in the doorway, heading back towards me. “Lily, wait here. Dad!”
But I was already out the door.
Ry chased me outside. “Please, please, you don’t understand. He didn’t mean it like it sounded-”
I was crying, and furious with myself for crying. “I do, I understand you perfectly. You just want-you just wanted to get laid.”
Ry tried to kiss me, to take me into his arms. I wouldn’t let him.
“Baby, don’t you remember any of the things we’ve said? How I’ve made you feel?” Ry said. “I know you feel this, too, I know you do, I could feel it. Everything in you answers everything in me, Lily. You keep forgetting all of that whenever something-”
“Bullshit! I can’t believe anything you say! I can’t believe any of this; I don’t know who the fuck you are- why are you being so fucking nice to me, anyway? I don’t like people doing things for me, remember? You know why? Because I can’t fucking trust anybody! I don’t trust you, I can’t, I won’t!”
Somehow, I was screaming.
“Lily, enough!” His voice cracked my name like a pistol shot. I felt my body respond to the command in his voice, instantly hating myself for it.
“Don’t. Just don’t. All right?” I said.
“At least let me walk you to your-”
“Don’t fucking touch me. I don’t want you to follow me, I don’t want you to touch me. Leave me alone!”
I ran into the dark.
I drove home with all my windows down, needing air in my face.
Cold, clean air. Hungry black air. Anything to wash away the electricity, the unrelenting connection that still remained like an
unbroken thread between me and Ry Calhoun. No matter how far away I was from him.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Pauline West Author Pic
Pauline is a bookworm, trail runner and bourbon lover. Her hobbies include mild hypochondria and ill-advised matchmaking.

Visit Pauline's Website


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Wednesday, August 24, 2016

T.S. Irons Back to School Sale!


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Do you like smokin’ hot, taboo short stories? Then we have got a sale for you!

The very naughty author T. S. Irons is preparing to release Brat Out of Hell, the short story follow up to Stepdaddy Dom. To celebrate this event, she is putting all her books on sale for .99¢ This sale runs August 22 - August 28.

Let us show you what she has, but be warned, these titles may cause your e-Reader to melt!


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Stepdaddy Dom (Step Dom) -
An erotic taboo tale  by T.S. Irons
#BDSM #erotic #taboo


My life was almost perfect. I had a job I loved that made me a ton of money. I had the perfect wife who was sexy, smart, and loved to play games in the bedroom. And then there was Riley, my eighteen-year-old stepdaughter, the bane of my existence. She was a spoiled brat that needed to be taught a lesson, and I was going to bend her into submission.


brat.jpgBrat Out of Hell by T.S. Irons
#BDSM #taboo #erotic

RELEASING SEPTEMBER 1, 2016
PRE-ORDER NOW

Step-daddy said I was a spoiled brat and needed to be taught a lesson. Well, two can play that game. If he wouldn’t play with me, I’d find someone else to take the dungeon. I didn’t plan on getting caught. Next, I was kicked out of the house, landed on the doorstep of the Church of the Brotherly Bonds. Pastor Damian was too hot to be a man of the cloth. Seeking salvation has never been more fun.

Video: https://goo.gl/ZUNuDu


sibriv.jpgSibling Rivalry by T.S. Irons
#erotic #menage #taboo


They say everything is bigger in Texas. I witnessed it first hand: the men, egos, and lifestyles. I was smack dab in the middle of it. My name is Cassandra Wade. I gave up a successful modeling career to be the trophy wife of Jackson Wade, the famous oil magnate. It would have been great if it weren’t for Jackson’s twin sons, Derek and Damon. They were polar opposites: the angel and the devil incarnate. While Jackson offered me security, Derek and Damon offered something very different. Something I tried to resist, but the urge and desire was too strong and I succumbed to temptation. What will happen if Jackson finds out? It’s sure to be an epic battle of wills because losing isn’t a word the Wade men tolerate.


wicked.jpgMy Wicked Stepsister by T.S. Irons
#taboo #erotic #romance #menage

Amazon AUS: http://bit.ly/1iNFyzS

My wicked stepsister—a tale of lust, seduction and surrender.

Drew Reynolds was the most beautiful woman in the world to me. We grew up together, and I’ve watched out for her since we were children. She was the Hollywood “It” Girl—flirty, outrageous, and always in trouble.
I’ve been her protector, her rock, her savior. I also happened to be her stepbrother, and completely infatuated with her.

Growing up in Hollywood, we’ve always had an unconventional family. Nothing is ever as it seems. When the lines between reality and fantasy become blurred, what’s a guy to do?
Should I push aside my feelings of desire or cross a line I’m not sure either one of us can come back from?

#mustread #1click


revelations.jpgRevelations: Confessions of a Dirty Girl by T.S. Irons
#eroticromance #suspense #99cents

Revelations is a full length novel



I lead a charmed life on the Upper East Side of New York with a doting daddy who adored me.
Then one day it all came to a screeching halt. I escaped the only life I had known. In a new town with a new identity and no friends, I had two choices—wallow in pity or embrace my new life and the possibilities it could bring me. With the FBI in pursuit, I decided to stop worrying about things I had no control over.
I was free from the proper, privileged life I had lived. I was also free of a very boring, uptight boyfriend whose idea of sex was five minutes in missionary position followed by a shower to clean himself off. Now I could take a journey and follow my own sexual urges.
It was all fun and games until Patrick Shannon showed up with a beer and pizza and wanted to talk, which lead to him spending the night. As feelings brewed beneath the surface and the FBI closed in, I grew anxious. Should I take a chance with Shannon, who pissed me off just as much as he excited me? Or should I flee the man I was falling for to stay one step ahead of the FBI?

tsirons.jpgT.S. Irons likes all things smutty! She loves lingerie, sexy movies and hot reads.
She lives in Pennsylvania with her sexy husband and their crazy dog.
Her published works include Stepdaddy Dom (Step-Dom), Sibling Rivalry and My Wicked Stepsister.

Twitter: @TSIrons1
Amazon Page: http://goo.gl/pBDjLX

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