May 1 is a celebration of diversity. Beltane Blitz is here!

May 1 marks a new month and new beginnings. This year I've joined in the Beltane Blitz  celebration being hosted by Dariel Raye of the Romance Troupe.
Our awesome hostess has gone out of her way to bring together Romance Troupe authors, readers, and an E-Party filled with games and prizes.

What is Beltane you might ask? A celebration or festivity that marks a time for renewal, celebrating nature and fertility. From times past to now, this date stands as a doorway halfway between the spring equinox and the summer solstice.

Music, celebration, traditions, rites, or as simple as meals, gardening, and a time to plan our next step into a new season.

Whatever is planned, it certainly is a diverse time. All over the world.
The celebration originated as a means to promote human fertility and the renewal of nature during cattle drives. Celebrations were recorded delving into history that included paying homage to Roman goddesses such as Flora, pagan celebrations, and a time to join together. During medieval times, many celebrations in England took place around a maypole (a tree brought from the forest).  Because there were some passionate encounters, by 1644 May Day was banned by the English Parliament but the celebration did not disappear, it simply went underground. In the U.S. our puritan heritage did little to promote such celebrations.

Yet, now, Beltane is a moment that can be used to give thanks for what we have coming out of winter into spring, and going forward into summer. As cool weather gives way to warmer nights, hotter days all sorts of passions flare.

For me it's a time of gardening and enjoying being outdoors. With a fire pit for the evening, and flower, veggie and herb beds for the days to keep after, I love this time of year.

What do you do come May and spring is underway? Grab a glass of wine with your loved in the evening, relax and give thanks? Or how do you spend May nights?

May 1 - 3 Beltane Blitz
for the amazing authors joining the fun with posts and prizes
to celebrate this special time of year.

Join in the fun for prizes and games on Google+ in the evenings.
And remember to leave your name and your email address when you comment
on the other blogs. 

Secret Desire: Spanking Good Time.

SECRET DESIRE. Vanilla journalist writes erotica by night.

He grabbed her hair, pins dropping onto the desk, flying onto the carpet, and he yanked, driving his rod back in her. She found no place to hide. He was forcing her to open, to let go and let him take care of her needs. He alternated between caressing her ass cheek to a hard-handed spank several more times until she lost count. "No more," she said.
"Quite right." (Thorton said.)
"Please." The shocking sensation of pain exhausted the emotional walls she had erected.

Secret Desire
Contemporary Erotic Romance

Available on Amazon, All Romance, Barnes and Noble, Kobo




Whether Yoga or Writing, It’s All About Showing Up.

by Susan D. Taylor
Regardless of where I’m headed, the ability to get to the destination is the point. Right?
Well, that’s where things get tricky. For me at least.
In writing and yoga, as with most journeys, it begins with the proverbial first step which is nothing more than coming across a threshold.
In a world that spins, our lives are nothing but change. By our very existence, flux is our destiny, and yet it is the essence of the moment in which life occurs.From breath to breath we live. And yet we strive for permanence or the idea that we must find our footing.
In writing it is possible yet impossible. The words may remain on a page yet the writer beyond cannot do anything but evolve. In yoga it’s the same. For many, the idea of yoga is chanting, stretching, unfurling. In truth, yoga is about undoing and letting go as much as it is about pushing boundaries until they no longer exist. Isn't writing the same?
A word of caution is that evolution is not always easy or comfortable or without strain. Either practice, can at times, be a painful struggle. For those who return again, they've found the key and the rhythm is more often a retreat.
As a practitioner of both I've found one never knows what will happen regardless of the goals set.
And so each day is a challenge to show up. Consistently return again and again.
And what does it mean to return? To writing and yoga, each day is an opportunity. A doorway or window—a choice to cross into another realm.
Beyond a willingness to try, nothing is actually required but I bring everything I’ve ever been given. At times the luggage is burdensome, and a porter is almost needed the bags are so heavy. Other days, the act is a delight for the memories and experiences ease the flow. I may try to control what I bring, but often I can’t. Does it matter when showing up is all that is needed?

There is a little trick I’ve learned. Nothing crafty or novel (no pun there). It’s to tell myself I’ll just show myself. No demand to remain. Only to come to the mat or chair.
Nothing more is required and I am unrestrained if I want to leave.
So I unfurl the mat or boot the computer. And of course, I don’t leave.
It was when I discovered there was a choice in staying and nil was expected, that I put aside expectations for the perfect practice or perfect line. I willingly come owning my imperfections instead of being haunted by them.
Luckily, yoga and writing are comfortable existing side-by-side. I love the practice of both. For what other activities can you do in your pajamas?
The journey and destination are mindful, definitely less focused on the body or material world. A vacation from everything almost. For seconds or hours, it is possible to be transported toward another realm, yet be utterly content within a room.

The practice of writing and yoga simply require that I show up. For many including myself, it can be a difficult feat.
I try to recall, once in the chair or on the mat, there is freedom to be (remember the trick). In writing and in yoga, there are poses or pieces that I work.

In both practices improvement is hoped for, yet it is the expression that I live through seeking steady grace. Turning, twisting, stretching until there is a moment of release. The destination. This growth may be incremental, so tiny without measure, or huge, mind-blowing. Both are taxing to define absolutely. No matter, it is possible to be freed into the moment where nothing else exists. And then the world fades. All at once the body is in the background and the mind is delivered, for a short time, into another dimension.

Perhaps if someone were watching, she’d see me in my PJ’s and think not much was going on. Hah. That happens a lot I’m positive.
But what may be unremarkable, or invisible, to others is I’ve shown up. I’ve taken the choice to open up. If I try to force my mind or body to work. Good luck with that. By chance what comes through in writing or a yoga practice is evident in something I do in the external world. Writing that unfolds in a manuscript or holding a pose a tad longer. Or not.
Yet as writer and practitioner, I am growing each time I come and practice.
The next time you see someone who has shown up and can’t imagine what they’re doing. Congratulate them on just being. On the fact they’re willing to try. Regardless of if they stay or have something tangible to show. For coming through the door was a majority of the struggle. And deciding to show up another time—when a million things are easier to do—requires a faith in the craft and practice.
For who knows if that next time, one more time, may make all the difference in the world.


I've been asked this question repeatedly. What's the difference between erotic romance and contemporary romance?

I for one am in the loop of when a contemporary romance edges toward erotic romance.

Honestly, I don't know when it comes to Amazon and their category mechanisms.

But truthfully, there is a huge difference.

Contemporary romance is just that...contemporary in so far as scene setting and time are current. The settings can feature places we all know and love such as Starbucks, or pop culture such as songs. A huge reason for playlists to get a feel for the story theme(s).

In erotic romance, well that's a subgenre and deserves a bit of explaining. Again confusion occurs because of the term "erotic." Erotic romance is not erotica per se. In erotica, the plot is driven by sex between the characters. The story may or may not end happily.

Yet in erotic romance, there are rules in the romance genre and one of the them is a happy-ever-after or, at least, happy-for-now is developing fast. Some authors are tricky in series drawing the reader in and them. And then BOOM! At the end, the characters are left hanging. *Cough* Fifty Shades for one.

In Tempted by Trouble, I enjoyed delving into a few niches in the reading world. Western romance because after all Tempted takes place in Annona, Texas on a cattle ranch where ranching is done. There's actually a scene where the heroine, Dr. Carolina Rodriguez delivers a calf. Which BTW is a terribly difficult process for the mother cow, and the vet involved. That scene took two men and a determined woman to help a safely turn the calf in utero and deliver the baby.  But back to the issue at hand.

Then there's the sensual aspect of Tempted by Trouble. It wasn't all ranching, roping, and calving. There were several smexy scenes from the parking lot in Miami, to the ranch office (more than once), and bedroom scenes galore. And yes, we went there with a hint of BDSM just to take it from sizzle to searing. Nothing was held back from the reader's imagination.
So in answering what's the difference in contemporary romance where so many books are found?

Oh baby, it's night and day what sits on that shelf. Perhaps the best thing to do is read the book blurbs and free reads to get a sense of the story, characters, and plots. When reading and writing romance, there's so many choices. Take an imaginary trip, and enjoy the romance ride where ever it leads you.



DRACULA UNLEASHED by Linda Mercury 3rd in the Series: Blood Wings

Dracula Unleashed
by Linda Mercury


After centuries as the Dracula of Legend, disguised as a male, Valerie Tate's current incarnation is the last thing she expected: mother of a precocious half-angel, half-vampire, and wife to two men. But Valerie is more familiar with battlefields than domesticity. . .  

Some overwhelmed mothers relax with a glass of wine. Valerie soothes her immortal soul with a refreshing blood and coke. How else can she deal with her toddler Minerva's psychic powers--not to mention her determination to throw knives. Thank goodness for Valerie's two loves, John Jante, guide to Fallen Angels, and Lance Soleil, Angel of the Lost. Without them, the trauma of her dark past and her primal, Dracul urge for violence and power would overtake her. Yet in a world where humans and paranormals uncomfortably co-exist, Valerie's peace will be short-lived. 

Tensions have erupted with bombings and the emergence of creatures heralding the apocalypse itself. And Valerie's vampire brother and nemesis, Radu, is at the center of the conflict. Now Valerie finds herself at the forefront of an epic battle between good and evil--and facing a choice no woman in any realm should have to make. . .

At three o’clock in the morning, the doorways of the Old Town neighborhood of Portland, Oregon, were as dark as an open mouth. The buildings with their Old West–style false fronts loomed over the narrow street, an urban mountain pass with sheer cliff walls that hid a myriad of hiding places. Every corner held the promise of violence.  
Chad Trask, former leader of the area’s largest gang of idle rich kids, stiffened as a trickle of icy sensation moved along his hairline.  
The ten young did not walk unobserved. Hungry creatures hid in those shadows. 
The blood in his veins pumped hot and fast. His breath sped up. The tiny prickle grew into the unshakeable knowledge that they were being tracked. After the events of last Halloween, he knew more than the average human about being hunted.  
His friends were walking into a trap. Just as the smooth sides of the pitcher plant enticed flies into the digestive soup at the bottom, the silence and seeming quietness lured them into deadly carelessness.
"The Angel of Death was everywhere at once, closing the eyelids of fallen with its skeletal fingers. Others, it merely touched their foreheads with careful delicacy."
Dracula Unleashed is third in the Series Blood Wings delivers a inhumanly fast paced ride. 
A battle is about to break between immortal forces and then does, devastatingly so.
Lance walks amidst wreckage with the Angel of Death who determines the beings which have started this war are indeed vampires.There's only one solution. A hunter must be utilized, or unleashed. Valerie Tate is called upon to against Lance's wishes. She is wife to him and John, angel and Guide, (that's right a vampire with two husbands!!), a mother, and the huntress in this tale.
The paranormal cast within Dracula Unleashed is varied and rich giving the story an unsual twist.
First, I must say the interplay of passion between Valerie and Lance is imaginative, delicious, salacious. YUM! And then there's some pretty hot video menage that will leave the reader breathless.
I found the sibling against sibling tension a driving force, all the way to sacred ground. The constant powerplay of good against evil mesmerizing. And let's not forget, the stunning passion between the characters. Dracula Unleashed is absolutely a dark, hot read that will captivate the reader.
"Something was going on underneath her illogical resistance, her bizarre insistence that he and John were fragile. He buried his human response of frustration and trusted his true nature. He would get answers. Lance traced his thumb over navel. A spark of hot red passion there told him exactly what to do. "
AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Linda Mercury left behind her varied careers as a librarian, art model, and professional clown to pursue writing. She’s interested in writing, romance, the Middle East, reading, organizing, cooking, hand-made silk Turkish rugs, and the Nike of Samothrace. 
Website and blog:
Dracula's Secret, Blood Wings #1: 
Dracula's Desires, Blood Wings #2:

Linda will be awarding this lovely dragon necklace
(since Dracula means Dragon)
  to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.



Here's seven sentences to tease, whet your whistle if you please.
Extracted from Tempted by Trouble. A hot steamy western released in early April.

     "Let me taste you. Lick you, tease your sweet pink skin with my tongue until you hold my head and position yourself at my mouth. I’m going to slip my tongue into you, moving in and out of you, bringing you to the brink but not all the way.”

    “You’d leave me hanging?” She clung to his shoulders.

    “Never,” he muttered.

      His breath scalded her face, blistering her skin, and making her forget the reasons why they couldn’t go up to his room.

SEXY SNIPPETS HOP BEGINS ON SUNDAY April 21, 2014 Enjoy the scintillating authors below and visit Nuthouse Scribblers for other amazing features. Bon Appétit!

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Let Angels Fly by Noelle Clark

Life’s full of surprises the second time around.
Arriving in Cambodia to volunteer at an orphanage, Abbie finds a warm welcome with the owner of her hotel, the handsome Craig Nelson. Craig is everything her ex-husband wasn’t—warm, compassionate, and a generous humanitarian dedicated to helping the local people. But after raising a family and being devastated by the end of her bad marriage, the last thing Abbie needs is complications. She’s on her own for the first time in many years, and it’s time for her to spread her wings and fly free amid the people and culture that have always fascinated her.

But while exploring the ancient temples of Angkor Wat, Abbie overhears odd noises and sinister conversation that raise her hackles. Turning to the only person she thinks may be able to help—Craig—she realizes she’s witnessed tomb raiders—art thieves stealing frescoes to sell on the black market. Unable to let the pillaging of the beloved temple continue, Abbie goes back to investigate and finds evidence that proves her theory. And in the meantime, she finds herself falling for Craig.

Yet change isn’t easy for either of them. Both carry scars, and neither is ready to let go of the past. When Abbie is attacked in the market place, it’s clear her presence in the temple wasn’t overlooked. When Abbie agrees to help the police stage a sting operation to catch the thieves, things go from bad to worse. And Craig might be powerless to help…
One Friday evening, as Abbie was hurrying to the Old Market to buy some fresh chicken and vegetables for her dinner, she stopped off at the ATM to take out some cash. She joined the long queue, and took out a pen and piece of paper to write down her shopping list while she waited. Trying hard to remember the ingredients for chemhay moan sleek crey—a gorgeous chicken and lemongrass soup that was one of her favorites—she started writing. Galangal, lemongrass, kaffir lime leaves… Suddenly, Abbie stiffened, drawing a sharp breath. The pen slipped off the scrap of notepaper and drew a blue line across the palm of her hand. A whining, Cockney London accent, coming from right behind her, froze her to the spot.

“Hans, that just ain’t fair. They told me fifty-fifty—and that’s what it’s gonna be, old mate.”

“You get what you deserve, imbeciel. You have ze brains of a monkey.” Abbie heard him hawk and spit. “You deserve peanuts.”

“Just you watch it, you fat bastard. Without me, you wouldn’t have ended up with a tenth of the stuff we got.”

Still frozen to the spot, Abbie didn’t notice that the ATM was now free. She jumped as a sharp finger poked her shoulder.

“Hey, come on, love. ’Aven’t got all day, ya know.” His mousy little face with vacant hazel eyes came into her focus, as it loomed in front of her, inserting itself far too closely into her personal space. She smelled his bad breath, saw the ginger whiskers glistening in the late afternoon sun, and watched as his eyes narrowed, revealing recognition.

“Fuckin’ ’ell! It’s you!”

Abbie felt as though her feet sprouted wings, just like Hermes, and she ran, shaking, away from the horrible men. A cacophony of horns and shouts assaulted her as she raced across the street, narrowly avoiding being hit by tuk-tuks, bicycles and motorbikes, and headed for the Old Market. She entered the dark labyrinth, knocking over a stand displaying hats and crashing into a table full of pirated DVDs.

She heard the abuse of the stallholder, but kept on running inside, into the dark aisles, hoping to hide from the men who, she was certain, were hot on her heels. From somewhere far off, she heard vendors yelling at her. The dark, narrow passages were barely wide enough to walk through, and running was impossible. Abbie banged into displays of T-shirts, pashminas, and brass Apsara bells, causing the vendors to hurl torrents of angry words at her.

Breathlessly, Abbie emerged from the darkness of the general merchandise area into the fresh produce aisles, which were wider and quite well lit with natural light from the roof above, and from electric bulbs strung along the rafters overhead. Oh my God, she thought. Where the hell was she going to hide? She turned right, the smell of fresh fish catching in her throat. Highly pitched Cambodian voices, all seemingly talking at once, blotted out any other sound. The fish area seethed with late Friday afternoon shoppers. The smell, even though she was getting used to it, was overwhelming. Her heart beat rapidly as she desperately tried to force her way through the crowd. She was afraid to turn around—afraid to see those cold hazel eyes set in the vacant face. She caught her breath as she rounded a corner. Big glassy fish eyes stared at her from shiny silver bodies, lying on beds of crushed ice. Cane baskets of green prawns adorned the tables, their wiry tendrils draped over a mass of black, closely set eyeballs. Her heart racing wildly, Abbie vaguely noticed vendors weighing out fresh produce and serving customers in the hectic, noisy market.

A ruckus erupted behind her. Raised Cambodian voices, high-pitched and angry, pierced through the buzz of the traders and customers. She heard an

argument breaking out from somewhere not too far away. Horrified, she heard crass English swear words—an outburst of profanity—responding to Cambodian voices, raised in affront. She felt her eyes sting when sweat rolled down her forehead and crept into the corner of her eyes.

“Get outta the bleedin’ way!” His ugly, common voice, shouted at the shoppers and vendors.

Ow! Ow!”

Pausing in her flight, Abbie quickly turned to look over her shoulder. A mob of petite Cambodian women, yelling and screaming like warriors, swarmed on the man. Armed with legs of pork, wooden rolling pins, and big, meaty femurs, they raised the heavy lumps above their heads and brought them down hard on the man. Abbie watched in amazement as he crumpled into crouching position, his hands over his head, trying to deflect the blows. She looked beyond him into the crowded market, and saw the fatter man, his pallid face shiny with sweat, eyes bulging. Two young Cambodian men held him firmly by the scruff of his hideous Hawaiian shirt, a huge, pointy meat hook hovering only inches from his face. She saw his eyes cross as he stared at the vicious barb so close to his ugly mug.

Abbie cried out as two strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her into the darkness of the narrow aisles. Hands pushed her along in front of them, stopping only when they arrived at a wooden door. Abbie couldn’t breathe.

Contact details

                LET ANGEL'S FLY Book Trailer



Asked if I have a forbidden fantasy...Heck yes. And here's Part 1.

Harlequin is asking...
Do you have a Wrong Bed that hasn’t been slept in?
A Forbidden Fantasy that you’ve always wanted to try?
Or do you know a hot military hero you’d love to get your hands on? 

WELL,  YES I DO!!! The bucket list just runneth over. Oh hell, let me drop kick it cause this is my new goal. If I have to eat-sleep-and-get-it-tattooted on my body, I will. I'm going make this a reality.  And coincidentally, I've a sizzling romance fantasy that also may work out here. I'm a realist too, and know I might not get picked. No problem, there's so much going on. One day, some how, some way, this will HAPPEN!

I'm not selfish and I love company. So you come too, and tell a friend. Sharing is caring as far as I'm concerned. Writing isn't a finite universe even though sales ranks are the Louis Vuitton status symbol in many a writing world. If you think this is something of interest, then get crackin'!!

That’s right! Harlequin Blaze is having a writing contest! So if you have a manuscript that may be a fit for us, we want to see it!

Here’s how it works:

Send your synopsis (max 10 pgs) and first chapter (max 25 pgs) of a Harlequin Blaze targeted manuscript to from February 20, 2013 to June 1, 2013. One entry per person. In your e-mail please include your name, phone number and address, and name of manuscript.

  • The first place prize winner will have a Blaze editor as a mentor for a month for advice and guidance with respect to the submission.
  • The second prize winner will get a one-time editorial consultation regarding the submission, conducted vi telephone, with a Blaze editor.
  • The third prize winner will receive a six months’ subscription to the Harlequin Blaze series.

And to discuss the helpfulness of writing contests from the publisher’s point of view and the author’s….Kathryn Lye, a Harlequin Blaze editor, will be doing an hour long Q&A on the topic in May. Keep an eye out for date and time to come.

For the full contest rules, please visit this page.
For further info about how to write a Harlequin Blaze targeted manuscript, please see the writing guidelines.
Entrants must be legal residents of the US and Canada (excluding Quebec) and must not have been published by Harlequin/Carina/Digital First.

Our editors have found fabulous new talent through Blaze contests. You could be next!

Finally, please do not post your submission in this thread. E-mail the address above instead. We’ll be announcing the winners at the RWA national conference in Atlanta, Georgia.


NO PURCHASE NECESSARY TO ENTER. Opens on 2/20/2013 at 12:01 AM (ET) and closes on 6/1/2013 at 11:59 PM (ET). Enter via e-mail at Open to legal residents of the U.S. and Canada (excluding Quebec) who are of the age of majority. Void where prohibited by law. One Grand Prize available to be won consisting of the editorial services of a Harlequin® Blaze® editor for a period of one month. One Second Prize available to be won consisting of a one-time editorial consultation to be conducted via telephone (initiated by Sponsor) with a Harlequin® Blaze® editor. One Third Prize available to be won consisting of a six month subscription to the Harlequin® Blaze® series (approximate value: $150 USD). Odds of winning depend on number of eligible entries received and quality of submissions. Official Rules available online at Sponsor: Harlequin Enterprises Limited.

Tempted by Trouble. SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY Sexy Snippet

Welcome to Sneak Peek Sunday and enjoy the delicious ride. Here's a scrumptious peek into Carolina and Matt when they meet--again.

Tempted by Trouble Sexy Snippet

“Evermore Ranch,” she read aloud.
“I hope you this won’t upset your plans?”
“Would it matter? I signed a service contract that included a non-disclosure agreement. Even if I had a problem, I couldn’t tell a soul and I’ve promised you two weeks of my time.”
He chuckled softly. “Yes, two weeks to do my bidding.”
She almost choked at the thought of doing his bidding. “What the heck have I gotten myself into with you, Mr. McLemore? Exactly what type of office do you run?”
His expression changed. Sharpened. “Strictly business. Look, Dr. Rodriguez, we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“Wrong foot … the whole body is a problem, sir,” she hissed.
Tempted by Trouble available on

's review 5 of 5 stars
Full review to come. Visit on April 18 for my stop on the Tempted by Trouble Book Tour!

Kristi at Reading Is My Timeout April 12, 2013
"...the story gets tricky, hot, steamy... just wow!! I LOVED Carolina ad Matt! I was definitely a fan of the give the bad boy one more chance club!! 

By Toot's Book Review April 12, 2013
"There's lots of hot sweaty guys, ranch dust and horses, good ol' chemistry, lots of sex, even bouts of BDSM and a oldie but goodie romantic ending."


 NOW onto more SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY  excerpts by amazing authors. Take a peek!



Wednesday. Middle of the week and we're into the groove yet wishing for the weekend or break, or a vacation. Mmm. What to do?

Take a timeout from routine with a little steam.

In the midst of writing the next story for my hot western Lovers and Fighters series, I'm taking a little break, returning to
Fantasy for One Night.  This isn't the first time Jenna and Victor are tempted to to forget their career goals. And it won't be their last I assure you.

Here's a little snippet to whet your interest. Enjoy.

      Jenna's voice dropped into the range of a haughty warning, “Don’t go there.”
      “Right. Then you'd better come with me.” Victor clamped his fingers on her elbow willing to drag her down the corridor if necessary. Their gazes locked, sizzled if he thought about it. "You sought this meeting. Well, don't balk at your own wish."

"Fine. Have it your way, Mr. Rawlings."
If only he could. They walked silently. He turned, leading her down another hallway, past his assistant, enjoying Jenna's slight gasp. “Hold all my calls. I don’t want to be disturbed.”
Outside his office, he released his hold on Jenna, impatiently waiting for her to enter first. He followed, shutting and locking the door. He’d never brought a woman into his office and bolted them inside. God, he envisioned her mouth doing all sorts of things since the night they'd first met. 
And now, she was here in front of him. “Imagine what would have happened if we’d had that drink? I’ve thought about it.” Ruminated was more like. Obsessed even better.
Jenna swung around. “Now, I’m part of your company. I don’t think us pushing boundaries is prudent. Do you?”
He shook his head, slowly. "I disagree with your premise."
"Why are you doing this?" She backed away a step, perhaps she'd realized that was not the best idea for she abruptly stopped.
Hell, he could have told her in business she should always stand her ground, letting him know there was no negotiation. Or was there?
“You see,” he began as he unbuttoned his jacket. He paused, removing it, thinking of what he could say to get her to understand her job was not in jeopardy. Jesus, he wanted her to take down that hairdo. He tossed his jacket over the arm of chair. He came toward her. “This isn’t about your work. Or mine. Nothing to do with Trident. As a matter of fact, I think you're ignoring what your body is saying. Isn't that true?”
“For God sakes, how inflated is your ego? You’re only interested because I’m not situated at your feet. Am I really the first woman who didn’t fall over when you charmed her? Why can’t you understand, I’m not interested because you aren’t my type.” Her chest rose and fell captivating his attention. She must have noticed him staring and covered her breasts with her arms. "Your ego is whispering to you. Not my body, Mr. Rawlings. You’d better start listening or I might accuse you of being delusional.”
Jesus, she was a fireball. He’d not considered her involvement in his company a stumbling block. All he could envision was the way she'd been semi-clothed on Friday. Decked out in a dress with a slit way up her thigh. That mockery of a gown had revealed more tempting flesh than it covered.
“Oh, really. And just what is your type? Are you married?” His glance shifted to the fingers on her left hand. “Or perhaps a boyfriend? Or do you date so extensively you have categories for men?”
Her brows drew together, a telling sign he was headed in the wrong direction. “You have no right to question my personal life. None at all. What would happen if I started to question your personal life? You might not have one female employee in the whole Trident empire. I've seen you splashed across many a page in your latest conquest. Remember we live in a digital age. Click and publish goes a long, long way.”

Damn her arched brow lit a fire in him. He itched to take hold of her, bending her to his will. To bring her to release, screaming his name, and then have her do things that brought them both pleasure in the end. What he'd give to have her splayed across his desk instead of mouthing off.  Hell, he'd gotten himself into this corner. Under her perusal, he tunneled his fingers through his hair, contemplating his next move.

"Ask me anything. Do you actually believe the rumor mills that spin around this city? Just because somebody's got a cell phone doesn't mean the whole truth is captured. You might do well to think on that Ms. Smarty Pants. You work for me going forward as you've so capitally reminded us both. So please enlighten me as to your status."
He crossed the space unwilling to stop. Overpowering was his want of her. To feel her body against him. He'd take over, owning that mouth of hers that capably returned barb for barb. He was so close to her, he could make out the tiny silvery flecks in her mercurial eyes. Light enchanting his very essence in the glittering green she flashed dangerously at him. Standing next to panels of glass walls, the sun entered into his office, and he half expected to see chips of ice sheer from her countenance. But was that really what she was feeling? Only one way to find out.
“That’s none of your business,” she was saying.
He reached out taking hold of her wrist. “I want to make it my business. Jenna, why are you here and dressed like this? Is this some sort of masquerade? Did you honestly think I’d not recognize you?”
“I’m nothing to you. And now you’re being a jackass, Mr. Rawlings.”
“Do you know I’ve wondered about how your lips would feel and taste? Your whole body has captivated my thoughts.” He pulled her closer to him. “To kiss you. And then we’d know.”
He’d made the decision, there was no turning back. Either she’d be willing or she'd make her opposition known soon enough. The outcome was worth finding out the texture of her lips. The distance between them evaporated, not giving her an opportunity to think.
His arm pressed around her tiny waist, bringing her up against him. He repeated, “One kiss and then we’d know if this is a wish gone awry.”
This time she softly moaned. Her eyes widened, unblinking. He could feel her stiffen, but there was no pushing back. They stood, hip-to-hip, her breasts crushed against his chest, her bottom under his fingertips. The hunger for her lips blinded him to anything else.
He moved his other hand, cradling the curve of her head. Ever so slightly, he pushed against her until she leaned into his hand.
“Please.” She inhaled, spreading her fingers around his arms.
He lowered his mouth, savoring the moment when their lips met. Soft, delicate, and driving him mad. He pressed her mouth open making way for his tongue. He thrust into her, taking possession of her mouth, plunging and tasting her sweetness.
Without warning she pulled away. “Stop,” She hissed. Her blazing eyes stared back at him. “No. This is all wrong.”
“Is it? You in my arms feels very right. You can’t say I’m alone in this.” His gaze flicked down her flushed face.
“You’re asking me to risk too much.”
“I’m not out to get you. I’ve no intention of letting this sabotage your contract. Just the opposite. We don’t have to let our mutual attraction interfere with our day jobs. The nights can be separate. Ours to do as we wish. Give yourself to me. I promise not a moment shall you regret.”
Jenna licked her lips, relaxing millimeters, her body melded to his. He bent his head, reclaiming her hot mouth. She let him kiss her at first, unmoving, and then he felt her tongue dance and stroke against his.
This craving for her exploded. Tore into him. He hauled her against him, pressing his hips into the soft v-shape of her incredible body. She whimpered into his mouth, digging her fingers into his arms.
Victor continued kissing her, devouring everything she gave. The deeper his tongue thrust, and the harder his cock became to the point of throbbing.
Her fingers had moved up to his shoulders. Their kiss had him craving the rest of her body. A feast he’d enjoy for sure.  He ran his hand down her back, all the way to her ass. He rubbed a firm cheek, and then moved his other hand until he cupped her bottom, dragging her up next to him.
“Jesus, I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone before.”
“No. Victor. This won’t work out for me.” She didn’t move away, if anything she flexed her hip, pushing against him.
“We’re having dinner tomorrow.”
“Actually, I don’t see why we can’t meet at my office.”
“Why? Do you have a bodyguard at your palatial offices Ms. Tatum?” He cupped her breast, thumbing her nipple.
And then it happened. Slap! The heat from her palm spread over his face. She twisted vehemently in his arms with a strength surprising him, unlocking his grasp on her.
“Stop.” She panted, holding up her palm, face glowing, lips puffy and reddened. This time she held her ground in front of him. “Don’t make fun of me. Ever again. With all that you have, I’d think you’d not belittle others. What was I dreaming?”
She pushed away from him in such a fury. Teasing didn’t go far with her. At least not from him. She shook her head. Shit, there were tears in her eyes.
“Look, I didn’t mean that. Christ, is it always going to be a debate each time we meet?  I just want to get to know you so you don't think I'm some sort of cad.”
“Too late.” She reached inside her attaché case and pulled out a stack of papers. “Here’s my company contract. It's standard in the industry. Nothing a first year law student couldn't muddle through. If you still want to work with me, then fine. But not like this. I’m not here for your amusement.” She slammed her case. Without another word or glance she sauntered to his door. All he could do was watch her walk out his office. He rubbed his hand over his flaming jaw pondering the event. Jenna Tatum. The first woman he'd spurned leaving him entirely frustrated—entirely ravenous to possess her.

Jenna, owner of an Event to Remember needs a contract and fast. Not to worry, her best friend Maddie has lined up an interview with Trident Builders in return for a tiny favor.

Enter Victor Rawlings, a man whose infamous reputation precedes him up and down the Florida Gold Coast and he's prepared to hire Jenna to make him shine. Victor is on the wire to prove he's CEO material if he can wine and dine Trident's clientele according his Board of Directors requirements.

Now comes the favor. Maddie signed both Jenna and herself up at a charity auction, Fantasy for a Night at an underground club. In a chance meeting during this risque auction, Jenna finds herself owned by Victor for the entire night. Their night doesn't end with sunrise. Instead, Jenna finds herself enticed into working side-by-side with Victor during business social events, and then submitting to his every wicked desire when the sun goes down.

Now the real masquerade begins.

Can Jenna hide her emotions? Or will she fall without a net, losing her business and her heart to a man who directs her by day, and commands her night?

Reworked SYTYCW 2012 went from steamy to scorching!

Another SWEET AND SPICY TALE due out in July 2013 on and other ebook retailers.


My recommendation for the holidays!

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