Romanticon 2013--All the Dirt That's Fit to Print!

I get to post the first Cabal post after Romanticon 2013! Ooooh, what should I tell first?

When I first got to Romanticon and saw my Cabal-mates, I ran to the room they were in and pressed my breasts against... Oh wait. I probably shouldn't tell that one first.

There was the first breakfast when Cristal and I discussed male/male spectator sex over a plate of sausage. Oh, that's probably not appropriate to bring up.

Then Danica got humped by a couple of--no, wait...

I made a bunch of women do terribly naughty with bananas. And Ann Mayburn told them they should put their fingers in--maybe I shouldn't elaborate.

We had a meeting over breakfast on how to incorporate cumshots into our... Wow. Turns out there's actually not a whole lot I can actually tell you about.

But you know what?? It was lots of fun and you can experience it next year for yourself! Seriously, it's so much fun. Ellora's Cave puts on a great show. The ladies are all so friendly and fun, and you'll have lots of stories you can't ever tell anyone either!

Doesn't that sound awesome?

But here are some pix I *can* share with you!

Here's what happened when I tried to write in the hotel bar at Romanticon:

Here's me on my knees in my fancy dress sneaking sparkling wine to the Cabal at the awards ceremony!

 

 

And finally, here's a story from Romanticon that I am PROUD to share!

 

The Cabal of Hotness (including our one male member, Justin Whitfield) won Ellora's Cave Superstar "For the Love of Romance" Awards for our Fondled & Gobbled books!! Here's us on stage receiving our awards:

 



 

 

Romanticon, until next year when we meet again!

Story Time, PART 5!

It's time for Part 5 of our novella! Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. And part 4 is here.

I'm going to go ahead and title our little serial novella here.... 

~~Hotness Happens~~

Ryan gaped at Antoinette.

She leaned casually against the frame of a bathroom stall, wearing the unbelievably sexy lingerie set Ryan had bought for her last Valentine's Day. The one she'd been pissed at him for buying. The one he'd begged her to wear for him. And the one she'd never worn before.

She smirked, knowing Ryan thought this was all for him. Silly man—he thought he had the upper hand. He should know better by now. Did he really think she'd reward him for his behavior?

No. She had something else in mind entirely.

Knowing they had a few minutes, she stood there, letting him devour her with his gaze, his eyes lingering over her breasts, which were covered (if you could call it that) with a thin, sheer fabric, her nipples clearly visible. Her bare, trim abdomen led to silk panties...exactly like the pair he'd ruined. But what really brought the outfit to orgasm-on-the-spot level were the fishnet stockings and fuck-me pumps she'd bought that morning, just for the occasion. 

Antoinette let him marinate for a minute in the carnal vision she knew she made. She was wet just thinking about what she'd planned. Her revenge was going to be so damn sweet.

She sauntered forward, heels clicking on the marble. Ryan reached out for her but she brushed past him to reach into her purse. Clutching the small treasure she'd extracted from it, she ordered him into the bathroom stall she'd been hiding in, and he complied. She'd gone in there to make sure the stall had a good view of the sink, and hot damn if it didn't have a great view.

"Drop your pants, you sick fuck." Ryan complied immediately, almost blushing. She cocked her head, studying his large dick. "Hard already? It's a good thing this has snaps." She held up the black leather cock ring and Ryan's eyes widened.

"What's that for?" he stammered.

"It's to keep your nasty ways under control until you've learned your lesson." She knelt in front of him and reached between his legs, tucking each of his balls into the first ring and tightening it before pulling his now-bound scrotum up so she could snap the other strap snugly around his erection.

“Damn that’s tight,” he whispered. “I’m not sure if I can come with that thing on, baby, and we can’t take too long—my boss could walk in any minute!”

Antoinette smiled sweetly, walking her fingers up the underside of his erect penis, harder now due to the pressure exerted by the cock ring. She leaned forward, pressing her full lips to the mushroom head of his dick in a soft kiss before dropping her bomb.

“Keeping you from coming is exactly the point. And don't worry baby, your boss is already on his way in. I texted him earlier with a naked picture of me and a request to meet me in here. I knew he'd be game after all the stories you told me about him being such a playboy.”

“Wha—??! Antoinette, what the fuck? You can’t—you aren’t really gonna—!”

“Shhh.” She stood up and placed her finger on his lips. “I really. Am. Gonna.” She drew the words out, mocking him. “Because if you get to force your fantasy on me, then I get to force mine on you. And who knows. You just might like it.”

“But it’s my boss! It’s…humiliating.”

“That’s sorta the idea, baby. But he doesn’t actually know who I am so he won't know there’s any connection to you. He thinks I’m just a white-collar groupie. He’s rich, handsome, a powerful CEO. I'm sure I'm not the first to offer myself.”

“And what am I supposed to do? Participate??”

“No, silly.” She put a hand to his chest and shoved him further back into the dark stall, oversized for the pampered executives. “You stay in this stall in the shadows and you watch through the gap in the door while your hot boss fucks me senseless on that counter.” She pointed to the sink and Ryan made a sound somewhere between a squeak and a whine, his eyes huge. “And Ryan—” she stepped forward, wrapping her hand around his cock and giving it a hard squeeze. “You'd better not even think of orgasming until your boss has emptied his hot cum into your wife’s tight pussy. Got it?”

Now Ryan moaned, a sound that could have been misery or rising ecstasy. She couldn't tell, and frankly, she didn't care.

Backing out of the closet-like structure, she blew him a kiss as she pulled the door nearly closed behind her. “I'd advise you not make a sound, honey. No matter what goes on out here. And once I have these new silk panties covered in your boss’s cum, we'll see what you have the urge to do with them then.”

Just then the air pressure in the room shifted as a soft whoosh announced the entry door to the executive lavatory had been opened from the hallway. Antoinette rushed to the sink, leaned back against it and fluffed her hair, pasting a sultry smile on her lips. She heard the distinct sound of a lock being slid shut on the heavy outer door. Good, she thought. He is game.

Her heart felt like it was going to thud right out of her chest as she watched the inner bathroom door swing open to reveal her visitor…the man she intended to fuck in front of her kinky husband.

********

Ooooh I can't wait to see where we take this next!!! It's like the dirtiest relay race ever! *hands off baton and collapses in exhaustion*

I gave it my all folks. :) Happy Friday! Go get some this weekend, bitches!! 

Kisses & licks,

Piper

A Letter To My Beginning Writer Self -- Three Years Ago...

This letter is meant to give advice to my newbie writing self from my older, wiser self. To shake my head about all the mistakes I made and gently chastise my naivete for the stupid decisions my young, writer self will go on to make.

Oh I feel so unqualified to write this letter.

I've only been writing for three years.

Wait, can that be right??

I went back and looked at the dates, searched my emails, even checked my Amazon.com "How to Write a Novel" order. (Yeah, really.) And yep. Three whoooooole years. I'm almost embarrassed to admit that--like I don't deserve to be here.

So most of the huge mistakes I'll make, I have yet to make. The incredible highs and lows of my writing career are probably mostly yet to come. Deep breath.

Here's what I know so far...

Dear Piper Trace,

Yes, that's your name--surprise! Not that other name you chose originally. I think Piper fits you much better.

You will think big, setting your sights on your dream publisher, Ellora's Cave. Believe in it--you'll get there. And you'll get there without anyone else's help except an editor who saw something in you, no matter how inexperienced and overwhelmed you are with your book when you meet her.

But take note--you can avoid a six-month period of heartache if you slow down, do your research, and understand that you don't NEED an agent to get where you will go.

You won't tell anyone you've decided to "become a writer", not even your husband. You won't research agents because you'll know you're not ready yet--you haven't even written one book! You will just write secretly in stolen moments and at night after everyone has gone to bed.

You'll marvel at what you've found in writing. It's your favorite thing. You'd rather write than do almost anything. There are reasons you'll have to leave the house--work, kids, errands--but you'll rush home from every outing, needing to get back to your computer like a junkie needing a fix. You'll pull more all-nighters writing "Come When Called" than you pulled in college. Only because you love writing it so much.

But when you finally approach a writer looking for advice, things go wrong. She will try to help you because she believes in your writing. This will sound amazing to you. You might actually have what it takes! But you won't do your research (future self is shaking my head at you). Instead you just jump in, thrilled to discover you have a connection with someone who's already in the erotic romance writing business! Someone multi-published! Someone agented! What harm could there be in contacting her, right?

Oh Piper.

Multi-Published Author (MPA) will love your work. She will send an email to her agent recommending you! She'll tell you to send the agent your stuff!

You will cry and jump up and down. It will be one of the happiest moments of your life--but hey, this is future me warning you--DON'T GET ATTACHED TO THIS HAPPINESS. You will come crashing back to Earth very soon. On your face. It will hurt.

Afraid to miss out on any of this intoxicating momentum, you will, of course, send your query. THEN you will do your research. Do you see the problem here? You will leap before you look. Tsk tsk. And you'll pay for it.

You are a researcher, and you have a VERY specific career path in mind. You are normally EXTREMELY careful and cautious, and you would (in any other situation) research the hell out of this before you act. But in this case, during your high of excitement, you won't. Your inner practical voice will be drowned out by the angels singing.

Your research (after it's too late) will reveal that this agent is not right for you. I won't go into the details publically because she is an active agent for many other successful authors, but you will know in your heart that she is not right for YOU. She's a nice person--extremely professional and connected with the folks in publishing--but you will know quickly that she's not "Your Agent".

Please understand this--not every agent is right for every writer simply because he or she is an agent. Do your research before you ask for help--you are putting your career in the hands of this person. You are getting into bed with him or her for a long time--do not just "give it up" to the first agent who expresses interest!

And do your research on other authors before you ask for help! Trust me--it's a bad situation to be offered help from someone only to find that you don't actually want their help. It's bad for all parties and it's not fair to said author who spends her time helping your naive ass.

Take your time and make sure when you find an agent, if you find an agent, that he or she is right for you. You don't actually need an agent--which you'll discover six months later when you've "finished" Come When Called and it's accepted by Ellora's Cave, unagented. (Only to be completely re-written and still not out yet...) But don't worry. You'll have four other books published by EC that contain your work before Come When Called finally sees the light of day. Yeah, pretty cool, right?

Agents serve a very valuable purpose--have you SEEN a publishing contract?? But I'm a lawyer who negotiates contracts for a living, so I have less of a need for an agent than the average person. What I will need from an agent is an expert advocate who believes in my work and has the contacts to sell it. And I need a CAREER ARCHITECT. Agents are experts at those things.

I liken it to needing a lawyer to write a will. If you have an extremely simple estate, you can probably DIY it. But as your estate becomes more complex--kids, maybe a business, inheritance, home ownership, etc--that's when it's time to call in an expert. I look at my writing career the same way. Right now I own a stereo, an iPhone and a used Chevy. And I rent. Metaphorically speaking. I'll look for an expert when things get more complicated, or when I am ready to make the leap to things becoming more complicated.

That time is not now. I'm not prolific enough for the relationship to make sense. Agents sell books and I don't have any books to sell right now. When and if the time comes that I want to branch out from Ellora's Cave, then maybe I'll consider querying agents, but not now.

Back to my tale of woe to my past self...

You'll write to MPA and spout effusively about how much you appreciate her help and belief in you. Because you really do! And you're really grateful! She didn't need to try to help you, but she did. You will be heartbroken to have to write this motherfucking email, but you'll explain that her suggested agent just isn't right for you, as much as you appreciate her help. You explain that you're going to pull your query from agent's consideration (thinking the situation will only be WORSE if agent accepts you and you turn her down). You'll send this email to MPA with dread, knowing there's no way in hell to get out of this smoothly and that the shit's about to hit the fan.

It will. She's offended that her agent isn't good enough for you (this is not why you don't want said agent, but it's how MPA interprets your message). She will excoriate you via email, tell you how stupid you are to throw this chance she gave you back in her face. She'll wish you luck in the slush pile because that's where you're going back to, having stomped on the opportunity she gift-wrapped for you.

Every word will sting your conscious and bring tears, but you will read her response anyway, like penance, over and over. She will block you over email and Facebook, tell you she's already written to the agent and told her you've decided you don't need her and that you're no longer recommended.

You will cry for three days straight, sad for the drama and sure you have burned your bridges in the publishing industry before you've even crossed one. But you'll keep going back over the situation in your head, knowing there was nothing else you could have done differently, short of researching this author ahead of time and been wise enough to steer clear of any discussion of agents with her. But how were you to know she'd offer to refer you to her agent? This author was your one and only contact that you actually knew in the publishing industry, and your only option in hindsight was to never have contacted her, or to somehow make it clear from the beginning that you weren't interested in agency, though you'd love to discuss writing with her.

So look before you leap, young Piper, and you will avoid a lot of heartache and drama.

Love, me.

Have any of you ever found yourself at the receiving end of an incredible "favor" that you didn't want? How did you handle it? What could I have done differently to have avoided this awful situation?

And by the way.... IT'S FRIDAY BITCHES!!!! Go get some this weekend!

My Feet Are In the Sand, But My Heart Is In the Woods!

This month’s theme is, “If you could travel anywhere, where would it be?”, so it’s ironic that I’m writing this blog post while on vacation! Though, not to knock this vacation…it’s not my dream one. :) I’m on a family vacation—and I mean extended family—to the Outer Banks in North Carolina. It’s a great spot for the kids—I’m watching my son fly a kite on the beach as I type this and my daughter is playing in the sand. I certainly can’t complain! But it’s just not my DREAM vacation. Here are some polaroids from my trip:

So what would my dream vacation be? (I realize that’s not exactly the question, but I’ve got vacation on the brain…) A cruise comes to mind because with cruises you can visit a few different places without packing and unpacking—your “hotel” travels with you. But I’m the mom of two crazy-active, fearless kids who don’t listen well, and I’d be terrified they’d fall off the side of the boat. Actually, that makes for an easy decision—my dream vacation would definitely involve leaving my kids with someone I really trust, who would come to my house to watch them while we were gone!

Since I’m not much of a bask-in-the-sun person, but I do prefer a slow-paced vacation, I’d like to travel somewhere I could rent a beautiful cottage in the woods, preferably on a pond or lake (no motors allowed!).  There must be tree-lined paths on which to ride a bike into town to the bakery, a local eatery, or a pub.  I want there to be lots of time for writing and relaxing with my husband. The weather would need to be *just* chilly enough for a sweater at all times, and there’d have to be a porch swing with pillows and a fireplace.

Know anywhere like that? Let me know in the comments! I want to make reservations for my next vacation!

In closing, here is a picture of me on the beach in my bikini!!

I *swear* I'm in my bikini! Sorry, my selfies aren't usually aimed well. ;)

Kisses in all the right places,

Piper Trace

Writer? Archeologist? Special Agent? DIY-er From the Wrong Side of the Tracks?

If I wasn't a writer...

...that's tough because I have so many interests. Let's go through the iterations of my past career dreams. Fascinating? Well, you might as well finish. You've committed!

When I was little I probably just wanted to ride horses, likely in the circus. Then I wanted to be an archaeologist, but a summer spent at an archeology camp convinced me my allergies were too bad for any outside job. Indiana Jones must have taken allergy shots. And all that tedious dirt scraping only uncovered bits of pottery, never the Ark of the Covenant. Which is probably good because likely opening such ark would have melted my face off, if the movies have taught me anything, and my allergies were doing a bang-up job of melting my face off already. So not the glamourous life I imagined. Though I did teach myself to read and write Egyptian hieroglyphics, a skill I taught to my friend and then spent much time in high school writing "coded" hieroglyphic notes back and forth. Because we were Cool Kids. (not) So yeah...time well-spent.

Then I wanted to be an FBI special agent!! But being nearly legally blind uncorrected (and they didn't accept Lasik back then) killed that dream. Oh, and I'm quite sure there were some questions on that entrance application that I would rather have not answered.

...Which brings me to criminologist! Or a criminal psychologist--a profiler! WAY back before that shit was cool. That one held me for a long time, including minoring in criminology in college.

Secretly I really always wanted to be a writer, but that's against the rules of this assignment, so if I could be anything today, it would be....

Someone who makes things out of other things. (Do I sound like the guy from Say Anything?)

I would either be a fashion designer because I love to sew and create things, or maybe a purse designer, lingerie designer, something like that. No, I think I'd flip houses!! Not for the money so much as the fun of improving it and turning a dump into something people want. Or I'd have my own business decorating or making and selling furniture I'd salvaged, repurposed or improved. I just love that shit. Hence my preoccupation with thrift stores. I tell people it's my way of being thrifty and green, but it's really due to my selfish desire for the pride I feel when I point to something and go--hey, that was once someone's trash and now it's this glorious thing I made!

As illustration, here's a $15 iron St. Vincent DePaul outdoor table that I upcycled (<--fancy word for "spray-painted") to use in my Master Bedroom. Sorry, I haven't had time to style it yet with a candle or a small, decorative pile of books and a picture frame or something, but still--much improved, huh? :)

$15 thrift store outside table BEFORE...

Chic brass, blingy masterpiece following one can of spraypaint AFTER!

Yeah, there's that pride.

What makes YOU feel that pride? Is it your current job, the way you live your life, or maybe one of your hobbies? Leave me a comment!

It's Friday Bitches!!!

It's Friday! It's Friday!

Let's do something really fun...like crack open a beer or a bottle of wine and read some Cabal of Hotness sizzling romance! (Can you crack open a bottle of wine? Ah hell, we'd figure out how to do it. I'm picturing the Cabal stranded on the desert island everyone keeps talking about with bottles of wine and no corkscrew. Oh we'd get those bottles open, don't you worry.) But I digress.

I am standing at my kitchen island making empanadas...the dough and everything. Chicken & chorizo empanadas (I'm thinking Bootay Hotness would appreciate this--though I suppose in Jamaica they call them...pasties? No patties, right? They don't go on your boobs. Unless your man has a meat pie fetish, and let's face it, I have a SERIOUS meat pie fetish and would gladly eat them off any of you.) :) But I digress. Again.

Cooking is just one of my outlets. And I need it right now because I've had a rough week. My basement flooded, I'm so behind at my day job that I might lap myself at this point, and I got NO writing done at all. That sucks for my poor menage trio who are itching to GET IT ON again. And again. Horny bastards (and bitch--can't forget my girl Evie. She's a tough chick to hold her own with Ford and Charley!)

But you know what this rough week reminds me? That I have friends. The ladies of the Cabal aren't just my "business partners", they're my support group, my safety net, my gang who's got my back. (This is the moment where Cajun Hotness pulls a razor blade from inside her cheek and asks, "Naughty Hotness, tell me who I gotta cut!" It's nice to have friends like that.)

I am so thankful for this INSANE group of women. There have been so many times that one of us has freaked out, threw in the towel, "I can't do it! You guys go on without me!" and they refuse. We often say, once you're in the Cabal, you're in for good, like it or not. It's like the mob, only more fun. 

We confess the things to each other that you'd never tell another human being...and it makes us feel better. For most of us, this writing is a labor of love. We can't say we support ourselves doing it, but sometimes it pays for our kids' sports fees, or a dinner out! Sometimes it just pays for that bottle of bottom shelf tequila we need to get us through that month. But we never give up. It's a passion. 

So support my ladies--for a few bucks you get to live someone else's sexy, crazy life in the books the Cabal writes. Find one you haven't read yet and give it a try, knowing that you're supporting an amazing group of women who are dedicated to making this writing thing work.

And I'll remind you--it's FRIDAY!! Take a deep breath and have a great weekend. :) 

Kisses and licks,

Piper Trace, aka Naughty Hotness

Being a Writer is the Best Job in the World

The life of an erotic romance author: Here I am at Sexapalooza 2012, signing books in front of the EC Bus!

Well, perhaps the title is a bit of an overstatement. I mean I'm not curing cancer or feeding the hungry, but I am making all your panties just a little wetter and some dicks just a little harder. And doesn't that make it all worth it?

Obviously being a published author is cool. I don't think I need to sell anyone on that point. But it occurred to me yesterday that being a writer may be the best "self-owned business" idea ever! So for all you wanna-be entrepreneurs out there, consider the following:

• Start-up capital: virtually zero. 
• You need to get your book written, but I suppose you could even do that on a computer at the library. Realistically, though, you'll need a computer. I started with a $250 netbook. Worked fine to write my first novel on. Other investments may include books about writing, some online writing workshops and the like. You certainly don't need a license, a building, a permit to do business, articles of incorporation, inventory, etc. 

• Be your own boss! 
• Things may become a little less casual for me someday, but right now I decide what I want to write and when I want to write it. I do it on my own time and at my own pace. This statement would change significantly if I was depending on my writing paycheck to supply my food money, or mortgage, or batteries for my vibrator. That shit's serious. I'd have to step it up then! 
• Sure I have an editor to answer to, and some folks also have agents, multiple publishers, etc., but even then, you are in business with those folks to put out a great product. They're your partners in the venture, not your boss. And that's pretty cool.

• FREEDOM. a.k.a. Be what you want to be.
• This is what dawned on me as the best part of being an author. If I'm in a paranormal mood, I can just up and write one! I don't need permission. I don't need acceptance. I don't need to get anyone's "buy-in". It won't mean I'll sell it, but if you have a decent publishing record, you can get a good idea of what you'll sell. If I was, say, an actor, and I was in the mood to work in an action movie, I'd have to wait for someone else to write it, then audition for it, then hope I get the part. Most likely, I'd audition for anything I thought looks like a good fit for me and I really would have no control over it. An actor can't think, "I'd love to star in a romantic comedy," and then go right out there and make it happen immediately and under his control. THAT's what's so cool about being an author.
• Now I'm talking in generalities. There are a lot of actor/writer/producers out there, and at some point, when they're in demand enough or rich enough, actors can call a LOT of the shots--or ALL the shots--I'm sure, but I'm comparing actors that are akin to my level as a writer.

As I finish this blog post, I'm now returning to my latest DIY project--constructing two ottomans for my oversized great room. In other words, I'm TAKING THE DAY OFF from my job. 'Cause I'm the boss. Of course, there's a catch. Time I "take off" from putting the right words on the page in the right order is reflected in my paycheck. You have to keep writing to grow and succeed in this business! That's the best advice you'll ever hear...how do you become a successful writer? You WRITE. And you don't stop.

Damn. I've gotta get to work!!

<3 <3 Piper, a.k.a. Naughty Hotness

What's *your* favorite thing about being a writer? (published or not...if you write, you're a writer!)

NAUGHTY HOTNESS <--You've been warned.

I want to say something here about that Naughty title…something light and dismissive like, “Oh ha ha! I’m not so naughty! Pshaw.” But, I can’t. It’s well-deserved. In my “real” life I work for a large, conservative corporation and I try to behave but I’m not very good at it. One of my old bosses wouldn’t join the “group lunch” if I was going because he was afraid he’d get in trouble. Like maybe HR would do some sort of “inappropriate-for-work conversation” sting and he’d get caught up in it.

Pussy.

I have a story that kinda sums it up, and it’s a great story in that it’s, at the same time, really embarrassing and really hilarious. A coworker told me that she’d met a friend of mine. When she told me his name my stomach knotted. These people at work already think I’m crazy, but they haven’t even scratched the surface. This friend she’d met...well, let’s just say he’d been present at more than one classic moment. He’s a married friend! No swinging going on—nothing like that. Just some crazy, fun, drunk, misbehaving nights of which he was a participant.

I tried to act casual. “Oh? Where did you meet him? How did my name come up?”

Her response: “I was waiting in the lobby at my hairdresser’s and he was sitting next to me talking to another man. He told this man some story, and when he finished the story, the other man replied, ‘NO WAY that happened.’ And your friend replied, 'You’ve obviously never met [insert my first AND LAST NAME HERE].'

So let’s think about that for a second. This man’s response to the tale of my antics was, “NO WAY THAT HAPPENED.” Wow. It must have been quite a story. My coworker piped in at this point to the two men and said, “I know [insert my full name here]!” and they proceeded to have a conversation about me.

Now my stomach wasn’t just knotted, it was sinking. Horribly. “So, uh, what was the story he was telling?” Coworker: “Oh I don’t remember.” I just smiled and said, “Well that’s awful polite of you not to remember,” and then I fled. 

I thought about it for a long time, going over all the likely story-candidates in my head. There was that one time I did that… Oh and when I said…. Maybe it was that time I… Etc. etc.

But after a while I sought my coworker back out, and said this:  “Do you want to know the funniest part of that whole story you told me earlier? Ever since you told me, I’ve been going over things I've done, stories it might have been, and honestly, I can't even narrow it down to a TOP FIVE LIST of which story he might have told about me."

Hence...Naughty Hotness.

PRE-ORDER Fondled & Gobbled: Someone Had To Do it

Quick excerpt from my story in the Fondled & Gobbled book: 

They closed in on her… Five muscled studs, large and tanned and in possession of delicious sausage secrets shared only amongst themselves. Emily instantly dropped the package, the condoms, her diet plan and her good intentions and squealed as five sets of strong hands carried her like their new toy to the kitchen table she’d set for one.

I also have a hot, hometown novella. Dylan's a lumberjack. He's good with his tools. He brings the wood. Oh he brings it...:

Buy Fueling Her Fire on Amazon!

Or from Ellora's Cave!

Excerpt: 

“What? No!” She spit the words out as quickly as she thought them but didn’t make any movement to remove his hand from her thigh. In unison, they looked down at his hand moving on her thigh like it was a situation both of them were helpless to put a stop to.

Dylan didn’t pause his slow caress. She wanted to stop him—knew she should stop him—but it felt so nice, his large hand on her bare leg…

No! She was not about to begin her holiday weekend in some kind of a remake of her senior year of high school. She already had one crushing memory of Dylan and she had no intention of making it a matching set.

“Dylan…” Her voice sounded uncertain though she’d been shooting for resolute. Taking a fortifying breath, she closed her eyes. Turning him away would be easier if she wasn’t looking into those clear blue eyes she’d seen so many times in her fantasies. “I’m not interested in rekindling a sexual relationship with you.”

“Not a relationship,” he said, his words as soothing as his touch, “just a demonstration of how I’d take care of you if you were my girl.” His hand felt hot against her skin and his confident sexuality spoke to a carnal part of her she’d kept buried for too long. “C’mon, Kip. You need it, and I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself.”

He inched his hand higher on her thigh, his intense gaze issuing a challenge to her to stop him if she didn’t want it.

But she wanted it.

And my most recent release, a BDSM quickie that’s tailor made for folks who love domination but aren’t in love with all of the “gear” that can go along with BDSM. Just plain, raw, “you will submit to me” kinda stuff. Enjoy!! 

Buy Bossing the Boss from Amazon!

Or from Ellora's Cave!

Bossing the Boss Excerpt: 

“Ro— I mean, Mr. Quinn,” Lauren began, her voice trembling and barely above a whisper. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Anything I want,” Rob growled. “You’re always so demanding, Lauren, always in charge.” He traced his fingers down her back, leaving a trail of chills. “You drive me so hard at work. You have no idea all the things I've imagined doing to you. I've wanted for so long to make you submit to me. To demand things of you, but in my bed. You need this lesson. It’ll be good for you.”

THANKS FOR HANGING OUT WITH ME!!!!

Oh, and because we LOVE followers we're running a contest through the month of January.

To enter to win an awesome Amazon gift card($100.00), subscribe to our blog and comment on any or all of our posts this month. Each comment equals one entry. Subscribing equals two entries. Make sure to leave your email addy on your comments

The winner will be chosen at the end of the month and contacted via email.

Here's the legal mumbo jumbo:

- Entering this contest means you have read, understood, and agree with all rules and regulations stated.- Entrants must be 18 or older (or age of majority in your country) to enter and to win.- No purchase necessary.- Void where prohibited.- All stated rules are subject to change without notification or reason given.- Chances of winning vary widely based on the number of entries received.- Prize is as stated. No substitutions or exchanges.

- Contest host is not responsible to misrepresented/mistyped email addresses, spam filters, mailer daemons, and other internet wackiness that may crop up at the time of winner notification.

- Winners are final.- Contest Starts 00:01EST January 1st, 2013 and Ends 12:59EST January 31st, 2013 and open to International participants- Winners will be notified via email, twitter, or facebook no later than 12:00EST Feb 3rd, 2013 -Respond by date to collect prize is 14 days from notification date.