Friday, 5 May 2017

Sneak Peek: His Laughing Girl - a BBW-Billionaire romance by Ellen Whyte

I'm off to see my mum for three weeks. Back on 1 June. 

His Laughing Girl
A BBW Billionaire Romance
By Ellen Whyte
31,000 Words

Pre-Order Price 99 cents 
Regular Price $2.99
Release Day 15 June 2017

On Amazon USA
On Amazon UK

I've written a second story, and will be releasing it on Amazon only to start with. If you're not in a kindle country, email me and we can sort something out.

Chapter One: Sophie

     “What have you got in here? Bricks?” Ali was moaning theatrically as he heaved my packing cases onto six trolleys. “These weigh a tonne!”
     “I’ve got everything but the kitchen sink.” I was ticking off items on my list. “That’s all the boxes. Now for the bags.”
     “You know they have shops out of London, right?”
     “Sure, but I’m not going to get truffle oil in the village shop, am I? Or mentsuyu!”
     “What on earth is mentsuyu?” Ali asked.
     “It’s that Japanese noodle sauce you like.”
     “Oh, right. Think they’ll be lusting for it in the wilds of northern England?”
     “The client is entertaining. There’s a Japanese guest and two Russians, so I raided Fortnum and Mason for gourmet treats.”
     “Sounds wild.” Ali examined a suitcase, pink polka-dotted leather. It’s gaudy and I love it, but it’s practical, too, because my stuff is recognisable a mile away. That means it’s less likely to go missing or be picked up in error by a stranger. Ali, though, was looking a bit poleaxed by the sea of flashing polka dots. “And this? The one with wheels?”
     “My frying pans and my Thermomix.”
     “Weren’t joking about the kitchen sink, were you?” Ali grinned. “We’ll need another trolley.”
     I’m a caterer, you see. I trained at Cordon Bleu, then did stints at Maxim’s in Paris and the Dorchester in London, and then I set up on my own. I don’t have a restaurant; I do parties.
     Some of my clients have lovely homes, but there are also overseas people who rent. That’s why I deliver a complete package. Hire me, and I’ll cook, plate, serve, and do the dishes, too, leaving you to chat, dance, or otherwise entertain your guests.
     I also do house parties, especially in the shooting season when all the smart set leave their cosy town flats for their ancestral halls. Most of those have been renovated upstairs, but the kitchen is usually a Tudor or Victorian dungeon, and there’s barely an unchipped plate in the place.
     As you might imagine, I need a lot of kit. My gear is packed in eight custom-built packing cases and four suitcases, all numbered, labelled, and weighing a tonne. Honestly, the British army going on manoeuvres takes less gear than I do.
     Any other man would’ve made a big production out of it, but Ali is the best concierge in London. That why I’d begged him to let me hire him. What would have taken me three hours and a nervous breakdown to shift from the van to the train took a happily smiling Ali twenty minutes.
     Now he simply murmured at one of his mates, and a second later an extra trolley whisked up. “All done, except for that pink satchel!”
     “That’s coming with me!” I clutched it quickly. “That’s my knives!”
     “They’ll confiscate those if they see them,” Ali predicted.
     “Out of my cold, dead hands!” I quoted.
     I was kidding, but at the same time I was quite serious about guarding them. Ask any chef, and you’ll get the same response. I could bear to lose the truffle oil, the chanterelle mushrooms, the mentsuyu, or even my mandoline for julienne veg, but my knives are my most precious possessions.
     “I think we’re done.” Ali finished stacking the trolleys and gazed at the leftover soft bag. Unlike my pink work gear, my carry-on is a basic blue, patterned in cats and kittens. “Hang on. What’s in that?”
     “Oops, let’s not forget that! That’s my clothes! I can’t go around starkers, now can I? Not with Jamie Oliver already claiming The Naked Chef!”
     Ali burst out laughing. “You’re a nut, you know that, don’t you, Sophie?”
     “And lovable with it!”
     We went up to the train in fine procession, eight porters for goodness’ sake, so I was feeling like royalty. Ali and his boys whisked all my gear on board, and then he saw me to my carriage. Personally. Isn’t that sweet?
     “First class,” Ali approved. “Very posh.”
     “The client’s paying. Isn’t that nice? Usually I travel cattle class!”
     There were four large leather seats facing each other. A Barbie blonde, dressed in a blue business suit with a super short skirt showing off endless legs lounged in one of them. She looked up, looked me over and smiled. Not a nice smile but a smug one. That happens to me all the time.
     I’m a chef and it shows. I’ve got more curves than an F1 track. I like my body, but superior looks and fat-shaming are part of my everyday experience. It gets to me sometimes, but I usually shrug it off. After all, I have a great life: a job I love, success, and freedom.
     This particular job was a coup, too. You see, I was recommended by the Duchess of Weir. When her own chef broke his arm last Christmas, I stepped in and did a dinner for her. The guests of honour were Will and Kate, the two most popular royals, and as it went well, she was singing my praises.
     The sweetheart got me some lovely work, including this delicious job. A billionaire had hired Basildon Hall, one of her estates up in Chester, and as the chef there was off on his annual holiday, I’d been hired for a whole month.
     It would be hard work, but it would net me a fortune. So when the Barbie doll’s blue eyes and pursed mouth signalled contempt, I smiled.  Extra wide, just to annoy her. Because I am a happy person, but I can also be a bit of a bitch.
     Seeing my grin, Barbie pouted and looked away.
     “Who’re you working for this time?” Ali was stuffing my bag into the overhead bin. “Someone rich and shameless?”
     “Richard Cummings.”
     Ali shrugged. “Never heard of him.”
     “I think he’s a scientist,” I was digging through my handbag, looking for the envelope I’d stashed there.
     “Don’t you know?” Ali asked.
     “He and his team were in the US, so it was all done over email by one of his staff.” 
     “Well, it’s probably okay, but I like to know who I work for.”
     I’d only asked about the food, because that’s my passion, but I could see Ali was a little worried. I wracked my brains, trying to remember what I’d been told about Richard Cummings. “His PA said he’s in AI—that’s artificial insemination, right?”
     “Is it?” Ali was fascinated. “Like fertility clinics?”
     “Maybe he works at a posh private hospital or something, but it might be cows or pigs.” Yes, I’m a twit, I admit it. “Whatever he’s inseminating, he must be coining it, because he’s hired Basildon Hall, a smashing country estate in Chester, and me, for a whole month!”
     Ali was laughing. “And his name is Richard Cummings, as in Dick Cumming? Classic!”
     “Lord, it does sound unfortunate, doesn’t it?” I finally found the envelope, in a side pocket, of course. I half noticed the blonde glaring, but it didn’t register properly because I was hugging Ali. “Here’s the fee, love. With a tip.”
     “Aw, you didn’t need to!” He’s nice, Ali. Always generous to the bone, too.
     “I know you gave me a massive discount. Thanks. Really, you’re the best.”
     “Best of the best, that’s me.” He gave me a smacking kiss and then he was off singing, ‘T’was on the Good Ship Venus’ and giving extra volume to the bit about, “There’s frigging on the rigging; Wanking on the planking, Tossing on the crossing!”
     “Well, really!” The blonde was fuming. Her exquisitely tailored suit quivered with annoyance. “How rude,” she snapped.
     I took in the pretty face and swallowed my irritation. People these days are too damn touchy for my taste. Still, on a four-hour trip from London to Chester, I decided to be diplomatic.
     “He didn’t mean anything,” I told her. “He’s a sweetheart really.”
     “AI stands for artificial intelligence!”
     “Does it?” I had to laugh. “Oh my god! Computers not cows, right?”
     “Robots! Cutting-edge technology!”
     Then it twigged. “Oh, was it you who phoned to make the booking? You’re the PA, Andrea Gould?”
     “Yes! And Richard is one of our foremost robotics experts.”
     “Is he? That’s nice.” She was clearly deeply invested in her boss. “I like nerds.”
     “Excuse me.” He was tall, broad-shouldered, blond, grey-eyed and knicker-dampeningly handsome. “I think that’s my seat in the corner.”
     Oh yummy! I was drinking him in. Big grey eyes, lengthening as he smiled, good bones, nice, wide, kissable mouth, and a grin that was infectiously happy. “I’m Sophie.”
     That’s an advantage of having curves. When you’re skinny and glamorous like Ms Barbie, you play games. Like pretending you’re too cool to be interested. Me, I don’t have men drooling over me, so when I see one I like, I have to say so. And quick, too, before they’re distracted by a predatory size eight.
     “Sophie who likes nerds.” He was laughing, and I was thinking of kissing him right there and then. He looked good and he smelled like heaven, a light grassy aftershave. Clean and fresh, like meadows after the rain.
     I batted my eyes and flirted shamelessly. “I adore clever men, and nerds are usually sensitive, too. What’s not to like, right? But let’s not talk about them; let’s talk about you!”
     “Richard,” Barbie was quacking with outrage. “Your seat is here, next to me. I got you the FT, and we have reservations for breakfast.”
     So that’s why she’d been so touchy. She’d already claimed my handsome hunk. Clearly this was Richard Cummings, the tech billionaire. Oh well, that’s life, right? At least I would have something pretty to look at over the four-hour train trip and for that month in the country.
     But Barbie was striking out.
     “But didn’t you hear?” The dreamboat looked down into my eyes. “As Sophie has the rare taste to like nerds, I should strike while the iron’s hot.”
     I was already giggling. “You’re Richard Cummings?”
     “I am.” He was sitting down next to me. “And you’ve met Andrea Gould, my PA.”
     He was lovely, handsome and with nice manners. This was getting better and better, so I smiled at him. “Gosh, what a way to make a first impression! You didn’t hear me say I thought AI was artificial insemination, did you?”
     Richard exploded with laughter. “Ohmigod, that’s a good one! No, I didn’t!”
     “I don’t think it’s funny,” Andrea sulked. “Richard is famous! Everybody knows him.”
     “I’m just a caterer, love. I don’t read the FT. I watch the Food Channel.”
     “I hear you’re a brilliant chef,” Richard remarked.
     “Really?” I’m super invested in my food, so any compliment goes straight to my heart. I could feel myself blush pinker than my polka-dotted bags. “Oh, how sweet!”
     “The Duchess of Weir told me you’re the best chef in London. You worked at the Dorchester, and you do house parties for Elton John and dinners for Ricky Gervais.”
     See? Told you I was successful! “And now I’m working for you,” I flirted on. “Anything special you want? Something sweet, maybe?”
     He grinned appreciatively as I batted my eyes suggestively but he said seriously, “Did Andrea tell you we have rather a mixed bag of guests?”
     “Sure! I can offer classics like tempura and sukiyaki, and I’ve brought all the spices I need for formal and informal Japanese cuisine. As for your Russians, I’m ace at making borscht, shashlik, blinis and golubtsy, too.”
     “Oh good!” Richard breathed a sigh of relief. “Give them whatever they want, okay? My chopper is at Heathrow, waiting for Tanaka. If you need to courier something from London, just tell Andrea, and she’ll arrange for it to be picked up.”
     “Will do!”
     Shopping by chopper isn’t new for me. I had a Saudi prince who sent off to New York for bagels and a Chinese business tycoon who insisted in flying in dim sum from his favourite street stall in Hong Kong. When you have tonnes of cash, you don’t think about these things.
     Richard hadn’t been boasting, though. Clearly the tech tycoon was nervous. This house party was important to him, and from the vibes he was giving off, he wasn’t totally confident that he had it in the bag. I’d have cuddled him in a heartbeat, you know, to give him comfort, and perhaps to cop a feel, but at that point the horn blasted, and we began to move.
     “I have some correspondence you need to see.” Andrea was determined to monopolise Richard. I was tempted for a minute to flirt on, but my business sense kicked in. These were my clients, and so I had to keep them sweet, including sulky Ms Barbie.
     I picked up my newspaper, the Daily Mail, because I love gossip over serious Financial Times pieces any day, and I settled down to read. It was just as well that Richard was engrossed in paperwork because there was a double-page spread on him.
     ‘The End of the Party’ was the headline, ‘Tech Tycoon Splits from Glamour Girl’, and they went to town on all the gory details. Although it’s a bit of a rag, they are good at digging. In just a few hundred words they covered ten years of history, and it wasn’t good reading.
     Barbie had been right: Richard Curtis was a big wheel in the tech world. Inventing some little doodad at age seventeen that made rockets fly higher and faster, he’d become a millionaire overnight. Another innovation, a toy car with a computer system that learned, earned him more millions when driverless carmakers bought into it.
     Rich from young, Richard had worked hard and partied harder. There were snaps of him with models, film stars, and the rich and famous from Kim Kardashian to Cara Delevingne.
     Everyone thought he’d settled down six months before when he started going steady with Celine Claude, a hot fashion model. But it hadn’t been a Happily Forever After. From her side—a tearful inset titled ‘Crushed and Discarded’—he’d swept her off her feet, become instantly bored, and it had gone downhill from there.
     Ex-girlfriends might be bitter, and glamour girls are often more interested in publicity than truth, but apart from Celine Claude, there were half a dozen others, all claiming to have had their hearts broken.
     So much for a nice, sensitive, intelligent bloke; Richard Cummings was a player. A hard-hearted one, too, by the looks of it. Shame, right? I’m all for enjoying good-looking men but I’m not the kind of idiot who lets herself be taken down the garden path.
     I looked at the gorgeousness sitting next to me and sighed. Richard Cummings was trouble, plain and simple, and I’d better stay well away from him.
     “We’re off to breakfast.” Richard was smiling at me, his grey eyes sparkling with fun. “Want to come, Sophie?”
     Okay, that wasn’t the plan. So much for staying away from trouble, right? But as Andrea glared and Richard fussed, helping me out of my seat and handing me my bag, I caught a whiff of that clean scent again. It bypassed my heart and went straight downstairs, starting a pleasant pounding.
     I love to flirt, don’t get me wrong, but that kind of reaction isn’t me. It caught me totally by surprise. So much so that I was standing there, gawping at him like a total fool, when Andrea’s cell rang. “It’s the Guardian,” she hissed. “They want to know about the new patent we registered. But it’s the girl from the gossip page, not the tech editor.”
     “Excellent,” Richard was expansive. “You deal with it, Andrea. Give her the press release and fob her off on everything else.”
     Andrea nodded. “Rebuff and redirect. Got it.”
     She was clearly super capable, and I could see why Richard liked her. But he was abandoning her and cornering me! “Sophie and I will go ahead. I’ll order your tea and fruit for you.”
     At that, Andrea actually growled at me, which was rather nice. Ignoring her petulant frown, Richard took my arm companionably and began walking me down to the dining carriage. “I was thinking this week was going to be complete hell, Sophie. I’m so glad you’re going to be there.” The grey eyes were warm. “At least you and I will have a bit of fun.”
     He wanted to have fun. With me. “We’re going to have a blast,” I heard myself say. “Trust me!”
     Breakfast wouldn’t lay me open to more than pleasant chat, I told myself. It wasn’t like we would be joining the Mile-High Club or whatever the railway equivalent was.
     “They’ve got eggs Benedict and a sausage platter. Do you like eggs and sausages, Sophie?” Richard was walking right behind me, leaning down a little so his lips were near my ear. The feel of his breath warming my neck was giving me thrills.
     “I eat everything!” I squeaked. “And there’s nothing like a hot sausage, is there?”
     “Quite,” he chuckled. And the thrills from that dirty laugh went straight from my ear to my nipples.
     It didn’t mean a thing, I reminded myself. My ears are sensitive. Even a blow dryer can give me shivers. It’s purely a physical thing. An involuntary reaction. Totally impersonal.
     I’d just focus on business. Virgin had announced a new menu based on responsible British farming, a move that I wanted to check out. Also, it’s good to hobnob with clients. Word of mouth is how I get my clients, and with Richard Cummings knowing everyone in the model world, he’d be a good contact.
     The train swayed, and Richard’s arm curled around my shoulders protectively. “Promise you’ll not abandon me,” he murmured. “Andrea is a clean-eating vegetarian.”
     “Sounds hell.”
     “Exactly,” Richard chuckled. “I want real food, and with you backing me up, I won’t feel guilty.”
     I remembered Andrea’s disapproving frown and knew I’d enjoy teasing her. “Partners in crime,” I told him.
     “To being wicked.” His grey eyes were laughing at me. “Together.”
     The pleasant thumping in my knickers became a vigorous pounding. Richard Cummings was gorgeous. I could feel his charm wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
     Irresistible, right? I heard myself quip, “Are you Cumming onto me?”
     He bounced right back, “Absolutely.”
     Oh well, I told myself. It’s just a flirt fest. I have those all the time, and it hardly ever comes to anything. Because of the curves, probably. Men like me, but after we’ve had a laugh, they go to bed with someone skinny.
     This was no different. I’d have a giggle with Richard, enjoy the charm and the good looks, lust after him a little bit, and know it was purely a game. Because tech billionaires with a penchant for A-list models don’t fall for curvy caterers.
     “How about we have some Buck’s Fizz with that eggs Benedict,” Richard suggested as he settled me into a seat. He really had lovely manners. “I’m in a party mood.”
     I took in the kissable mouth and the slanting cheekbones. “Sounds terrific,” I heard myself say. “There’s nothing as decadent as champagne for breakfast!”
     Yes, yes, I know! But you only live once, right? And anyway, it was just a bit of flirting. What could possibly go wrong? 

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Tuesday, 25 April 2017

The Tribulations of August Barton By Jennifer LeBlanc

Title: The Tribulations of August Barton
Series: The August Barton Series #1
By: Jennifer LeBlanc Publication Date: October 25, 2016 Genre: Contemporary Humor
August Barton could never have mentally prepared himself for his freshman year of college: not only has his anxiety increased, but his parents are divorcing, his new roommate thinks Augie is the biggest nerd in existence, and his grandma, a retired prostitute named Gertie, has taken to running away from her nursing home. Augie just wants to hole up in his dorm room with his Star Wars collectables and textbooks, but Gertie is not about to let that happen. What ensues is a crazy ride including naked trespassing, befriending a local biker gang, and maybe-just maybe-with Augie defeating his anxiety and actually getting the girl.
Jennifer LeBlanc was born and raised in South Dakota and has always had a knack for story-telling. When not writing, she can be found getting lost in a good book, doing something crafty, indulging in photography, or relaxing with her husband, two cats, and chihuahua. Jennifer loves animals and supports saving species on the verge of extinction. She currently works in merchant banking and credit services while writing her next project, a YA speculative thriller.

Monday, 24 April 2017

Interview with Nanea Knott, author of Nikola: Viking Slaves Book 1

Nanea Knott loves female characters who can make decisions and know what they want, and male characters who feel their emotions and communicate them as honestly as they can. Wishy-washy women and meandering men get on her nerves!

She is the author of Nikola: Viking Slaves Book 1. We asked her what she loves about vikings, and her hero, Dagmar.

It was exciting to write about Vikings. I’ve never done anything historical before. The legends speak of strength, bravery, and savagery. There’s something primal about them. The warriors are inherently alpha. What’s not to love about that?

The hero in my story is Dagmar. He’s a slave trader, but he uses his position to let people go. He’s fiercely protective of the slave he’s been given. He’s her new master. He can do whatever he wants, but he doesn’t take advantage of her. I love Dagmar because despite the temptation of a beautiful slave, he treats her with respect and keeps his hands to himself. He waits until she wants him. Once she does, he makes it worth the wait.

Sunday, 23 April 2017

Interview with Lee Savino, author of Rescued by the Berserker

Lee Savino is an author and a mom and a chocoholic. She's written a bunch of books, all smexy romance. Smexy = smart + sexy.

Rescued by the Berserker is her latest title, and we asked her what she loves about Vikings, and her hero, Knut.

Vikings were the bad boys of the Middle Ages. Brave, brutal and always up for adventure-they took what they wanted and loved the hell outta life.

What I love about Knut in Rescued by the Berserker is he's so intent on keeping Hazel safe. He's been a warrior all his life, and in her he finds his purpose. Also, he's really hot. Like Chris Helmsworth in Thor hot.

Friday, 21 April 2017

Interview with Felicity Brandon, author of The Viking's Conquest

If you've read Felicity Brandon, you'll know you're in for a good dark read. She's an Amazon #1 international best-seller, Golden Flogger Finalist 2016, and Wicked Pen Writer with Mr. Blackthorne. Her titles are for adults only, and contain explicit material and scenes of intense D/s sex.

Her latest book is The Viking's Conquest.

We asked Felicity, what attracts her about Vikings and her hero Prince Anders in particular?

I relish the savage mastery of the Vikings. They fit the alpha male territory of my BDSM and spanking erotic romances perfectly, and opened up a new world of dominance for me!

Anders isn't your average, adorabe dominant character. He is a leader, a warrior and sometimes he is a brute. Despite his rugged good looks, I didn't always like the things he did, but I grew to love the chemistry between him and Aurelie in The Viking's Conquest. His growing tender dominace of her during the story was alluring and at times, breathtaking. As with all tales, the protagonists change one another, and by the end, Anders became the devil with the warm (and kinky!) heart. 


Thursday, 20 April 2017

Interview with Emmanuelle de Maupassant, author of Viking Thunder

Emmanuelle de Maupassant writes glitteringly erotic, Gothic, comedic and wry tales to enchant, delight and disturb.

Viking Thunder is a 13,000 word novelette that is Part One in the Viking Thunder series.

We asked Emmanuelle what made her fall in love with Vikings, and particularly her hero Eirik.

I can't begin to tell you how much fun it was to write on the 'Viking theme'. There are two things that turn me aflutter: one is brains (I've had a thing about clever old Sherlock Holmes since watching Basil Rathbone in the original black and white films, when I was barely 6 or 7 years old); the other is pure physical brawn.

Give me Conan the Barbarian, give me Ragnar and Rollo in the Vikings series, give me Chris Helmsley as Thor in Marvel Comic films.

There is something in me that responds, at the basest animal level, to physical, overpowering strength - the sort that comes from wielding an axe in battle. I want the throw down!

It was an utter joy to write my own Viking, Eirik. Of course, this being a romance, I've given him other qualities besides brute strength. My heroine discovers that he's not only a magnificent (and inventive) lover but is loyal to his men, and proud of his warrior heritage. Fighting with honour and bravery are almost more important than victory.

Looking for a Viking to take to bed? You won't be disappointed with Eirik!

Conquer Me! A viking smorgasbord of terrific books!

A dozen of your favourite Indie authors are coming together to showcase their Viking themed novels!

Check out The Viking's Conquest by Felicity Brandon, Viking Thunder by Emmanuelle De Maupassant and more! 

Includes a taster of my novel, the Beast and the Sibyl!
The Beast and The Sibyl
By AJ Adams
75,000 words

The Beasts, those inked macho men from Prydain, are back!  The latest novel follows the story of touchy, proud, bad tempered Siv and Bliss, the sexy healer who has some super special paranormal talents.

The Beast and The Sibyl is a paranormal romance, and although there are cameos from characters in Beast, it can easily be read as a standalone.

Get the first 30% free as a sneak peek!

Or just buy it!


Sunday, 9 April 2017

Where There's Faith Blog Tour

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•´¯`·.·✿ • WHERE THERE’S FAITH • ✿ ·.·´¯`·
·✿ ҉ ✿ BY L.A. REMENICKY ✿ ҉ ✿·


Where There's Faith (Fairfield Corners Book 3)

A past she can't remember. A love he can't forget.

After hitting rock bottom, Robert Newlin embraced sobriety and tried to live his life quietly and alone at his family’s lake cottage. Blaming himself for the accident that claimed his wife and unborn baby, he spent most of his time alone and grieving until Faith moved into the cottage next door.

Faith McMillan had no memory of her life before that day three years ago. The physical scars had faded but the emotional ones were still fresh and raw. Living rent-free seemed like a great way to finish her second book and would give her the time to figure out her next move. But then she met the reclusive guy next door.

Robbie and Faith – can two broken people who vowed to live their lives alone find happiness together?

#WTFaith #Romance

•´¯`·.·Also Available·.·´¯`·



Saving Cassie Audible:
iTunes audiobook:



Ragan`s Song Audible:
iTunes Audiobook:

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•´¯`·.·✿ •About the Author• ✿ ·.·´¯`·


L.A. Remenicky ~ Love Stories With A Twist
L.A. Remenicky is a forty-something wife and mother of three fur kids. A payroll professional by day, she writes out the stories in her head by night.
An avid reader all her life, she finally put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) during NaNoWriMo in 2012 and has never looked back. When she’s not typing away on her latest story with music playing in the background, she can usually be found spending time with her family and friends.


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Thursday, 6 April 2017

SNEAK PEEK! Super Steamy! Rock Stars Are a Trope [Hooch in Hades 4] by Kelly D. Smith

Rock Stars Are a Trope [Hooch in Hades 4]
By Kelly D. Smith
119 pages, $3.50
Word Count: 35,589
Siren Publishing Allure

Erotic Contemporary Romance, light bondage, sex toys, HFN

Gabby Denis, a struggling fashion designer, is not stupid. There is something off about Nate Cooper. She just doesn't know what it is.

Not many men are willing to take a girl out shopping and pay for her new clothes. She's also never been out with a man who seems to have women recognize him. Or one with friends that need a formal dress made.

Of course, she doesn't turn down the chance to make it!

Gabby likes Nate for who he is, not because he lends her a car and pays for some of her things. For the first time in ages, she meets someone who supports her, and she genuinely enjoys his company. But he never tells her what he does for a living...until she sees him on the front page of the news.

Although, for Gabby, rock stars are a trope from movies and romance novels, she's going to have to decide if she's willing to give a real life one a shot at loving.


 “I’ve also got a chain, if you’d rather.”

“The rope sounds fun tonight.”

“Good. I’d like to show you what I can do with it.”

His eyes sparkled as he crossed over to her. He tangled his fingers in her hair and touched his lips to hers. “Just tell me if you want it undone or if it’s too tight.”

“Yes.” She nodded. She let out a soft giggle as she realized her sentence wasn’t finished. “Yes, Sir.” She saw the lust in his eyes as she corrected herself. “It’s been a while for me. I might need a little refresher training.”

“Oh I’ll make sure you behave.”

With a twinkle in his eyes, he reached for her ankle and ran his fingers over her smooth skin. Gabby moaned softly. She watched Nate tie the rope around her thigh. A soft sigh passed through her lips. The rope felt cool and soft against her skin. Truth be told, she loved the feeling.

She closed her eyes as she gave up control and allowed Nate to do whatever he wanted with the rope—and her. She felt the rope coil around her leg, not in any attempt to control how she lay, not yet. Gabby opened her eyes and saw the beautifully wrapped rope around her leg. It wasn’t just tied to bind her.

“That’s pretty,” she whispered.

“Not as pretty as you.”

She knew it was a lame line, but it still made her blush a little, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Nate leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her lips. As he pulled away he grabbed a second coil of rope and began wrapping it around her other leg. Nate wove the rope. He did it quickly, without pausing to make sure the way he tied or turned the rope was right. He just did it, knowing it would be the right way. It didn’t take long for her legs to be bound.

“On your hands and knees.”

Gabby shifted her weight and rolled onto her hands and knees. He gently reached for her hand and moved it back to her thigh. Gabby watched as he grabbed what was left of the rope. She hadn’t even realized he’d left some length of it. He tied her wrist in a quick knot. Desire pooled in the pit of her stomach as she watched him do the same with her other hand.

Finally, he reached for the button on his jeans. Gabby’s heart rate increased as he slowly undid them and slid off the bed. He paced over to the drawer where he had gotten the rope. He opened it, and she heard the sound of a condom wrapper. Coming back toward her, he let his jeans fall down to his ankles and stepped out of them. No boxers. No nothing.

His hard cock sprang forward. Gabby flushed, thinking about him inside her. She sucked in a deep breath as he crawled onto the bed and settled down behind her. His head tilted to the left as his fingers traced over her ass gently.

“Do you like being spanked?”

“Yes, but not so hard that it makes me want to cry. More playful than anything else.”

Nate nodded, letting her know he had heard her before raising his hand and bringing it down on her—soft and playful, just the way she liked it. Gabby let out a soft moan, her eyes rolling back as she arched her hips toward him.

He stopped just long enough to take the condom out of the wrapper and slip it over his hard cock. Another spank. And another, faster, softer. It was fun. Gabby giggled as she shimmied toward him.

His cock pressed against her folds. He thrust into her with one quick movement. Gabby gasped, a moan passing through her lips. Nate paused, caressing Gabby’s back softly. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. His cock slid in and out of her, soft and slow at first.

“You okay?”

“Oh God yes,” Gabby breathed. She turned and saw Nate grinning as he quickened his pace. Gabby moaned louder.

Smack. His hands came down against her ass softly but still hard enough to feel a little pain from it. Gabby moaned, closing her eyes. His hands against her skin made the rope rub against her roughly. But not painful.


“Again, please,” Nate corrected.

“Again, please, Sir,” Gabby said, adding the “Sir” to tip the odds in her favor.

His cock thrust in and out of her faster and faster. His hand came down against her ass again—smack, smack—still soft enough not to hurt her, just to get her heart racing. Nate thrust into her faster and faster. He grabbed her hip and tugged her closer to him. Gabby’s eyes rolled back in her head.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” she admitted. 

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Release Blitz: Billionaire's Vegas Night by Claire Adams


She didn't expect to end up in her boss' Vegas bed...
How does happily ever after begin? While you can no doubt think up a million romantic ways for it to get started, getting sloppy drunk and passing out probably isn’t one of them. Which is why Luna is so mortified to find herself waking up in her boss’ bed in Vegas, her memory of the night before little more than sporadic flashes.
While she is embarrassed, her billionaire boss, Gabriel, is unfazed. Unlike Luna, he remembers the night before—including their wedding, officiated by Blues Brothers impersonators. No, for Gabriel, everything is just fine. Until the police come knocking at the door of his hotel suite.
And why are they knocking on the door of his hotel suite? Because not one, but two of his ex-girlfriends are in the same hotel as him—and they are both dead. Strangled to death during the night. And he is their number one suspect.
And his alibi can’t remember a thing.
No, this certainly is not how we imagine happily ever after starting, but despite things being less than picture perfect, will Luna and Gabriel be able to carve a path together?

Billionaire's Vegas Night is a 90,000-word, FULL LENGTH, Standalone steamy sexy bad boy alpha billionaire romance. No cliffhanger and has a HEA. Includes 4 free bonus full-length box sets and novels for a limited time.

Tuesday, 4 April 2017

Seducing Sarah by Ami LeCoeur

Business is booming for Sarah, the successful, young, thirty-something CEO of her own advertising agency. In fact, things are going so well that she’s considering expanding the business even more.
But in the middle of celebrating her success, she gets a wake-up call when her secretary’s fiancĂ© sends a beautiful bouquet of flowers and the entire office goes ga-ga. Sarah can’t help but realize that no matter how successful she is by herself, her love-life sucks.
Determined to change her status by her birthday, a mere six months away, she decides to step outside her comfort zone and find someone to help share the celebration of her journey and her life.
When the flirtatious freelance photographer, Jimmy, sets his sights on getting to know her better, she has to decide whether or not it’s time to mix a little pleasure with her business.
This short story is Book 1 in the steamy romantic suspense 6 book Seducing Sarah series. It contains adult situations and is intended for mature audiences over 18. Approximately 62 pages.
NOTE: This first short story novella begins Sarah's quest to find a suitable partner. Each story builds on her previous experiences, so for the best continuity, you will want to read the stories in order.
Like most romance writers, Ami LeCoeur is a romantic at heart, but in her heart it's the classic Romanticism of the late 18th and early 19th centuries.
She is also a painter, glass artist, and award winning poet, as well as a writer.
When she isn't traveling, she lives on California's Redwood Coast with her husband and two kitties. She loves her wonderful ocean view, and when the fog comes in - as it always does - she's either curled up with a good book, or busy writing.
If you like Ami's stories, please let your friends know.

Sneak Peek: His Laughing Girl - a BBW-Billionaire romance by Ellen Whyte

I'm off to see my mum for three weeks. Back on 1 June.  PM me on FB is you need me! His Laughing Girl A BBW Billionaire Romance ...