Archive by Author

What’s the worst thing people are capable of? MISTRESS OF THE UNDEAD, out now.

9 Nov
Vulnerability makes use human; our decisions define our humanity. What better way to explore this idea than through a zombie tribe that feeds off sex—the ultimate power struggle.
That was my thinking while working on the sequel to Servant of the Undead. Mistress of the Undead cover
Blurb:
The city of Boston is infected with zombies, roaming the streets and seeking human flesh—not to eat but to use as sexual servants. Mattie, one of the tribe, wants out. She’ll do anything—manipulate, cheat, lie—to get what she needs to break free from the sex cult.
Hayden Thomas, tabloid reporter and wonderkid, knows first hand how cruel and consuming Mattie can be. Book smart, a good writer, and willing to do anything to get the story that will take his career to the next level, he’s made some depraved enemies.
In a city that thrives on scandal and conspiracy, nothing is coincidence. Beware: once you’re in, you’re in.
Excerpt:

Sex cult zombies wearing camo shorts soaked with fake blood, mud smeared torn black t-shirts, ripped sequin tube tops and moth-eaten suits off the Goodwill racks packed the halls of the Boston convention center. None of them had it right. These people playing dress up were sexy and hideous, but they were nothing compared to the real things. Hayden Buchanan Thomas, wonder kid and tabloid reporter ought to know. He been fucked, tormented, and used by the best of the sex cult zombie tribe that’d silently invaded the city. The creatures had arrived with the blizzard and taken advantage of the crippling effects of Snomaggedeon. He’d lost his girlfriend to one of them. He’d lost his pride and humanity to another.

But those had been real ones, not these fake ass pretenders crowding the Sunday morning halls of the comic convention. If these cosplay wanna-bes knew the truth, what the so-called sex zombies really did to humans, they wouldn’t be so excited. They’d hit the snow-covered streets, head straight home, get drunk and hope like hell one of the things wouldn’t pick them for their next sexual servant. Hayden took another look around, watching the naïve faces rushing past. Then again, maybe they wouldn’t hide. Maybe they’d want to know firsthand how bad bad really is. After what Hayden had been through the past week, he understood there was no bottom to the pit of human, and inhuman, depravity. The more heinous, in fact, the more likely it was to happen.

A tug on his arm stopped Hayden’s already too slow progress through the slinking mob. “Hello, pet.”

That insulting voice, that bitter smell. He knew them as well as he now knew disgust and deep personal shame. Hayden wanted to keep moving, get back to cutting through the crowd as he had been, looking for his boss, but his muscles had already started to quiver. Matthew’s grip was unyielding.

“Surprised to see me? You shouldn’t be. Your articles are making me famous. I’m making all kinds of new friends.” Matthew shoved Hayden sideways until they both collided with a wall. The guy made a point of grinding his crotch against Hayden’s thigh before rolling to his side, locking them both just out of the human flow. His disgusting smirk lingered, his mouth making a game of the forced contact. Hayden jerked his arm, after three tugs he managed to free his arm from the cold grip.

Surprised wasn’t the word Hayden would’ve selected to describe how he felt about being in the clutches of the zombie tribe leader. Shock would have been closer. Terrified, closer still.

~~~~
Isabelle Drake’s other new release, erotic contemporary romance beach read, Make Me Blush, is currently available for free with Kindle Unlimited. Find her on Facebook, Amazon, and pretty much everywhere else.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: The Arrows of the Heart

4 Nov

Here’s a sexy snippet to steam up your Sunday!

Fantasy romance, The Arrows of The Heart, by Jeffe Kennedy is part of the Uncharted Realms series.

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Blurb:

As the Twelve Kingdoms and their allies are drawn toward war, a princess cast aside must discover a purpose she never dreamed of…

Karyn af Hardie behaved like a proper Dasnarian wife. She acquiesced, she accepted, she submitted. Until her husband gave her a choice: their loveless, unconsummated royal marriage—or her freedom. Karyn chose freedom. But with nowhere to run except into the arms of Dasnaria’s enemies, she wonders if she’s made a mistake. She wants love, security, a family. She can’t imagine finding any of it among the mercurial Tala.

Worst of all is Zyr. The uninhibited shapeshifter is everywhere she looks. He’s magnetic, relentless, teasing and tempting as if she’s free to take her pleasure where she wishes. As if there isn’t a war rising before them, against a vile and demanding force far stronger than they. But with Karyn’s loyalty far from certain, Zyr offers her only chance to aid the defense—a dangerous gambit to seek out a land not seen in centuries, using clues no one can decipher. Together, they’ll have every opportunity to fail—and one chance to steal something truly precious…

Excerpt:

“What in Moranu is wrong with you?” Zyr had gone back to impatient, and I realized he’d been talking to me. He’d even set down the wooden chest and taken me by the shoulders. “Talk to me—are you ill?”

“Lieutenant Marskal left,” I managed to reply, the command spurring me to answer.

“Yes, that’s what I said.” Zyr sounded puzzled, ducking his head to try to look into my face. “Explain why that has you looking like you’ll faint.”

I had to catch my breath, my lungs too tight to draw air. “He… didn’t take me… along and now… I’m all alone… in this place…and I’ll starve… and die!” I finished on a wail that robbed me of the last of my breath and would’ve had me melting in embarrassed horror if I didn’t feel like I might fall into a puddle of faint instead.

Zyr cursed in his language, which would have sounded pretty if he weren’t so annoyed. He backed me up to the balustrade and made me sit, forcing my head down almost to the ground. “Deep breaths. Slow and even.” He spoke slowly and gently, rubbing a hand down my back. Far too familiar a touch, but it felt good and I could hardly throw him off. “That’s it, gréine. Calm and easy. Breathe.”

And I found I could. Being upside-down made my head feel funny, but I no longer felt like I’d fall the dizzying drop to the beach.

“You’re not all alone,” Zyr said, spacing out his words as if talking to a child. Which, I supposed was fair, as I was acting like one. “Only Zynda and Marskal left, on a private, stupidly heroic mission. The rest of the Hawks are still here, and you’ll keep training with them. My cousin Ursula, her royal high whatever, is sending more Hawks and troops here to Annfwn, to reinforce defenses in case there are more Deyrr attacks—remember? No one is going to let you starve. All right?”

I nodded.

“An actual verbal reply would be helpful, so I know you’re with me.” A hint of his usual teasing in there, but he still sounded gentle. Soothing. Totally unlike the Zyr I knew.

“All right,” I answered.

“Better now?”

“Yes.”

“Can you sit up?” He helped me straighten, and I caught a glimpse of his concerned expression before I averted my gaze. “Also, you wouldn’t starve anyway. Watch this.”

I did as he told me, watching as he reached up a long arm to an overhanging tree limb, plucked a fruit and handed it to me. Bemused, I held it, the smooth globe cool from the night, the sweet scent almost like flowers.

“No one starves here.” Zyr tapped the fruit, then put a finger under my chin, lifting my face so that keeping my eyes averted became more difficult. “Your cheeks are all pink now,” he noted.

“From being upside down,” I pointed out, more tartly than I would’ve if I’d been feeling fully myself. Your impulsive tongue will get you in trouble someday. My mother’s words echoed in my mind as if she stood right there. By now she would’ve heard that my impulsive tongue had made me ask His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Dasnaria for an annulment of my marriage with Kral. She likely believed me dead. Just as well, as I’d never see any of my family again.

Zyr broke into my mournful thoughts, his fingertips feathering over my cheek, as if testing the color, sending a shivery sensation through me I didn’t know how to handle. “Your skin is so pale and clear all the blood shows through.”

“That’s disgusting!” I yanked away from his touch, shocked by his words and mortified that I’d let a strange man touch me. Even if it had felt nice for a moment. And not lonely.

“How is that disgusting?” he asked, laughing and not caring at all. “People have blood in them and have skin to hold it in. This is true of animals, too. The Tala understand this—don’t Dasnarians?”

“Yes, but we don’t discuss such things in public.” I smoothed my braid, refusing to look at him, no matter his antics. “It’s not an appropriate topic for mixed company.”

“Mixed, as in Dasnarians and Tala?” His tone held plenty of mischief.

“Mixed as in men and women.”

“So, are only conversations about blood not allowed, or all bodily fluids?”

I nearly choked, so I stood, straightening my skirts.

“I guess that’s all bodily fluids,” Zyr observed, uncoiling to his feet with that odd animal grace. “You come from a very strange people.”

“At least my people keep one body,” I replied, annoyed enough to be outright rude.

“There, you sound better now. Your usual prim and offended self.” He retrieved the wooden box and started walking, so I had to go along. “And you’re blushing even more now, by the way. Is that what bothers you about me—that I’m a shapeshifter?”

“It doesn’t bother me.” I looked out over the sea, bluer now with the rising sun that hadn’t yet tipped over the rim of the towering cliff above. “Zynda is a shapeshifter and I like her.”

“Then you don’t like me personally.”

“I don’t have an opinion about you one way or the other.” I kept my tone as neutral as I could manage. This man made it impossible to be polite.

“But you won’t consider taking me as a lover,” he replied with that easy openness of his people.

I pressed my lips together, mortified to be in this conversation, my face burning hot.

“I’m an excellent lover,” Zyr continued, uncaring of the group of Tala girls who passed us carrying baskets. They giggled, several of them calling out what sounded like agreement. Zyr replied in their language, obviously flirting with them.

I considered simply leaping over the balustrade and ending this. Instead, I quickened my pace, striding ahead while he dallied. Perhaps he’d forget about me and run after them.

But no, he immediately caught up. “I’m not bragging,” he insisted, ducking his head to catch my eye. “Well, I’m bragging a little, but I can back it up. You’d enjoy yourself in my bed.”

I stopped so fast he went a step past me, before whipping around. That was uncanny, too. These shapeshifters moved so fast they almost blurred, back in front of you before you realized they’d changed position. “Your bed?” I squeaked out, astonished and horrified enough to look him directly in his eyes.

They widened, searching my face, his expression abruptly serious. “Why do you say it that way—is that an insult?”

No. No, it couldn’t mean the same thing in Common Tongue. “It’s nothing.”

“I don’t think so. We must talk about this,” he said.

“Nooo.” I shook my head emphatically, drawing out the word so he’d hear it. “We will not discuss this. In fact, this whole conversation is over. I never should have talked with you in the first place. I’m going for my breakfast now.”

Head held high with all the dignity of the Hardie family, I walked on.

The Arrows of the Heart is out now! Get your copy!

~~~~~~

Jeffe Kennedy is an award-winning author whose works include novels, non-fiction, poetry, and short fiction. She has been a Ucross Foundation Fellow, received the Wyoming Arts Council Fellowship for Poetry, and was awarded a Frank Nelson Doubleday Memorial Award.

Mistaken: Little Lies, Big Love–a Babes ‘N Beer anthology

14 Sep

Beer, conversation, music–for me these things lead to BIG ideas. About a year ago, the big idea was doing an anthology with two of my friends. One of the friends, Holly Halsey Mayes, wasn’t present but that didn’t stop Alexandria Sure and me from deciding she was in on our idea. We came up with a slogan for our project, Babes ‘N Beer, and were off.

We tossed around some classic romance themes: second chances, workplace, holidays, fantasies—then settled on mistaken identity. The idea of wanting to be someone else for a day, a week, or for however long, appealed to us because, well, we understood

it. The grass is always greener, and all that. Of course, our character’s thought so too, but after only a few pages, they realize we have some consequences for them–some more on the steamy side, others more on the sweet side. There more on the are happy endings all around as well-.

We settled down to the writing, got together for write-ins and planning (cover, photo shoot for the back cover, editing, promotion, formatting) and now, in only ten days, the book will be released. We’ll be having a release day party and donating 50% of the proceeds from books sold at that event will be going to the Women’s Center of Greater Lansing.

MISTAKEN: LITTLE LIES, BIG LOVE is an collection of three romances.

Have you ever wanted to be someone else for a day, night, week or a lifetime? Have you ever gotten caught in a teeny tiny lie?

Love–and lust–can make you do some crazy things.

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NAUGHTY LESSONS, by Isabelle Drake, from our Babes ‘N Beer Anthology.

Blurb

Motivational speaker and personal improvement expert Jaya Vinar is out of control–or so people keep telling her. When her boss pairs her with a handsome personal consultant, things get even more out of control. She wants to scare him off, he wants her in his bed. Only one can win. And neither one is exactly who they’re pretending to be.

Sometimes wild, and rocky, starts lead to even wilder, and happier, endings.

Excerpt

Jaya paused outside the hotel room, staring at the number 726, posted on the right side of the dark brown door. The late-night crowd had gone to bed hours ago, leaving the hall empty and the row of rooms quiet. With the elevator only yards away, a few steps was all it would take to head back to her own room and forget the whole thing.

She wasn’t going to walk away. She wanted this. Wanted him.

After several heavy beats, the door swung open and he was there. Despite the late hour, he wore a navy suit. He even had on the tie. The bright white shirt collar cut against his skin, emphasizing the rough, late-night stubble. No smile, no hello. He just stepped back and motioned for her to come in. The heat of his body caressed her as she passed him in the small hallway. She heard him follow her as she moved into the room, felt him behind her when she stopped. The intensity of his presence was so intense, so piercing; it was painful.

What a magnificent pain it was.

His suite was larger than hers, with a sitting room separate from the bedroom. A floor-to-ceiling window offered a view of the glittering city. There was a balcony with two padded chairs and a low glass-topped table. She could tell by the arrangement of the room they wouldn’t be spending time out there, enjoying the view or the crisp night air.

She moved forward a step and set her fingertips on the single chair placed in front of the couch. The chair was centered in front of the couch, its back to the window.

Jaya moved in, feeling the heels of her pumps sink silently into the plush carpeting. She felt the hem of her dress brush the back of her thighs and the tug of her garters on her inner thighs.

“I see you followed the instructions on the dress. Are you wearing everything I sent?”

Thinking about the box that’d been delivered to her room an hour ago, she nodded. She’d followed the instructions on the card, putting everything on slowly, savoring the moment. Simply touching the intricate pink lace bra and matching garter belt had made her shiver with anticipation.

“I can tell by the look on your face, you are uncertain.” He came around, stood beside her and touched her elbow. “You don’t have to trust me. You just have to do what I say.”

Heat skittered up her arm, worked across her breasts, making them swell and become heavy. Following all of his instructions had been one of the requirements on the note. By coming to his room, she had agreed to do the other—follow his commands without question.

With a slow, deliberate gesture, Connor pointed to a chair. “For now, I’ll accept obedience. The trust will come next time.”

Next time?

~~~~

Pre-order Mistaken: Little Lies, Big Love now for release on September 25!

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Isabelle Drake’s newest release, Cowboy for Hire, is a sweet cowboy romance from ‘back in her day’. In other words, a rerelease of one of her Ellora’s Cave book. One of the few sweet ones they published.

 

Cowboy up! Cowboy for Hire…classic romantic comedy from Isabelle Drake

28 Aug

 

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A cowboy, romance, laughs, a sweet happy ending…Cowboy for Hire has all of that. It’s also one of my earliest releases – now rereleased from Riverdale Ave Books.

Remember Ellora’s Cave? I sure do. I had about twenty books with them. Cowboy for Hire was my second. It’s recently been releasesd and to say I’m excited is an understatement. For me, it’s like coming home. Some of my readers may not know this about me, but I wrote sweet, traditional romances before creating my first erotic romance, Everglades Wildfire. I was even a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart finalist in the Traditional Romance category.

It’s natural for people to ask writers of erotic romance why they write such sexually explicit stories. Interestingly, people don’t ask that  of sweet romance authors. I think that’s because it’s apparent—everyone loves a love story. That’s what Cowboy for Hire is—a tender, light-hearted, sometimes funny, sometimes poignant, story about two people getting past the tangles of their past and getting tangled together.

~~~~~~~~~~

Excerpt, aka, beginning of Chapter One:

Lang Thompson eased his foot off the worthless brake pedal and waited for the red Arizona dust to clear. A board swung above the cab of his truck, once, twice, three times. The rusty nail holding it gave up the fight and the weathered two-by-four smacked across the hood with a weary thump.

One more dent wasn’t going to matter.

He pushed back his beat-up Stetson, mumbling a string of words that in his childhood would’ve earned him an afternoon in the milk house. He didn’t need this.

Outside his window a hairy, black Australian shepherd barked and waved its tail.

“You don’t need to tell me, I see the mess.”

For a split second he considered backing out and leaving. The way the place looked, the owner probably wouldn’t even notice the new gaping hole.

No, he didn’t want any unfinished business hanging over his head when he hit the highway again to head south, away from the miserable memories he’d left behind. There was that and the fact that his conscience had an unfortunate way of popping up at the worst times.

He glanced down at the animal now sitting among the rubble that used to be the side of a barn. A tired, seen-better-days barn, but a barn nonetheless.

For the sake of his furry witness, he held back another string of words unfit for delicate ears as he shoved the door open and stepped out. He leaned against the truck and yanked his hat down to block out the afternoon sun. The owner had to be around somewhere.

“I guess I should’ve hung a no parking sign there.”

Lang turned to the shapely outline in the shadows. His bad luck kept getting worse. A woman. He didn’t want to shoot the breeze with a bored rancher’s wife.

3979abe550f21576c24f7d58d2210593.jpg“If you’ll tell me where to find your husband, I’ll straighten this out with him.”

As she moved into the sunshine Lang tried to convince himself he didn’t see her thick blonde hair or deep, blue eyes. He didn’t notice the way her breasts strained against that plain white T-shirt tucked neatly into her faded jeans, either. And that bolt of physical awareness that shot straight to his cock? It didn’t exist.

A blindingly bright smile spilt across her sun-kissed face. “I can’t do that.”

No, those sweet lips didn’t really have an effect on him either. But just to be sure, he stepped away as she came closer. “Do what?”

Raising her hand to shield her eyes from the desert sun, she glanced over her shoulder toward the mess. “Did you plow into my barn because you suffer from memory loss?”

Lang turned toward his truck. He had indeed plowed into the barn. Her barn. “Your barn?”

She nodded, then reached down to rub the dog’s ears, giving him the perfect opportunity to look down her shirt. Was that a white bra with pink lace trim?

Damn he loved lace.

Forcing his gaze back to her face, he asked, “You don’t have a husband I can talk things over with?”

Sunlight blinked off the golden strands of her hair as she shook her head and scratched under the animal’s chin. Her silence didn’t make sense. Why wasn’t she pissed? “Look, ma’am, I’m really sorry—”

While waving her hands to cut him off, she moved closer, her sexy, long legs making short work of the distance. “You don’t need to explain right now.”

Judging from the tilt of her head and the welcome in her eyes, he was missing some piece of a puzzle.

But what?

He stamped out his curiosity. He only wanted to take care of business, then get back on the road and find that ranch for sale his cousin Cole had badgered him into looking over. With that out of the way, he’d get back to his real goal, which was putting as much distance between the remnants of his old life and himself as possible. He tugged his gaze away from her all-too-easy-on-the-eyes face, glanced around but soon found himself looking her way again. “Where am I anyway?”

Her delicate eyebrows knotted together and her shoulders dropped. “You didn’t come about the ad for work?”

“Work?” He shook his head. “No. I was trying to turn around, get back on the freeway.”

Her kissable pink lips curved weakly, the glimmer in her eyes faded but didn’t go out completely. “You’re at The Circle Cat Ranch.”

“And where is that?”

“Cactus Junction.” She dipped her head the other way and a few tempting strands of silken hair slipped over her shoulder. “You do know what state you’re in?”

Arizona. Only a couple of hours from the Mexican border.

Her gaze circled his face, considering, then dropped lower, assessing. He straightened, planting his legs wide enough to place the bulge in his pants front and center. If she insisted on getting a good look at him, he might as well give her a view worth the effort.

As though she realized she was rudely looking him over like he was a colt on the auction block, she brought her attention back to his face and tried to cover her actions with a smile as she spoke. “You look like you could use a drink. I know I could.” She brushed past him without waiting for a reply. “Come on up to the house and have some lemonade.”

That place his cousin was so hot for them to buy was in Cactus Junction. At least he didn’t have much farther to go.

Not that he wanted to buy a place and start all over but Cole had cajoled him until he’d agreed to at least look it over. A promise is a promise. Even to a cousin like Cole.

The woman’s hips swayed invitingly as she strode toward the house. Each determined stride called to some better left unspoken part of him.

He grumbled and tore his gaze away. He’d written complicated entanglements with women off. For good.

The screen door smacked shut after she disappeared inside.

Why did it seem like the last shred of control he had over his life was slipping away? The hot wave of lust pooling in his gut shouted a warning, telling him to forget his so-called integrity and take the chance that once he got on the road he wouldn’t need brakes any time soon. He could always coast to a stop.

He groaned. All those hours in the milk house taught him more than to mind his tongue. He had to stick around and settle the issue at hand. That ranch for sale wasn’t going anywhere. With a quick glance down to be sure he wasn’t wearing any of his fast food breakfast on his shirt, Lang headed after the woman and the dog.

~~~~~~~~~~

Get your copy of this sweet but still hot cowboy romance direct from Riverdale Ave Books or Amazon.

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Isabelle Drake’s other new release, an erotic contemporary romance beach read, Make Me Blush, is currently available for free with Kindle Unlimited. Find her on Facebook or Amazon and follow her Instagram story for the most personal pics.

Tom Cruise: Do we think he’s sexy?

3 Aug

Mission Impossible: Fallout, I saw it too. I know many of you did, because those box office figures don’t lie. Apparently, we all loved it too. Lots of action (believable and not) some bombs, bad guys who want to end the world–the usual action stuff. The plot was so straightforward, I had plenty of time to wonder about Tom Cruise…is he sexy?

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It didn’t seem to me he was trying to be sexy. Ridiculous with his over the top action, sort of romantic with his lost love, kind of smart with the way he figures things out, and very determined–especially when he was hanging from the cliff, everything looking really, really bad, but he kept trying until he saved everyone. But sexy? I didn’t think so.

It didn’t seem to me ‘they’ were trying to make him appear sexy in Fallout. I liked that. There weren’t any shirtless scenes, no long tough-guy stares. It was only later that I had second thoughts. Maybe he was supposed to be sexy and I just didn’t notice.

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I spent about an hour looking through many, many Tom picks. You know what I realized? He always looks the same. Same hair, same smile, same clothes. Even his expressions are pretty much the same.

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Even though he looks the same all the time, his career really has been all over the place. He danced in Risky Business, flew planes in Top Gun, disturbed people out in Interview with a Vampire, surprised us in Tropic Thunder, saved the world in the Mission Impossible franchise. Maybe that’s his secret, how he’s gotten to be one of the highest paid male actors. Think of him as a Where’s Waldo for the movie biz.

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His personal life, same thing. Married and divorced to very different women, jumped on Oprah’s couch,  is said to be one of the nicest people ever.

But wait! There’s more to show his life is very varied:

  • At age 14 he enrolled in the seminary, only to drop out at age 15 to become an actor.
  • In 1990, when he married Nicole Kidman, we wore no shoes.
  • 1996, he sued German Magazine Bunte for stating he had a zero his sperm count.
  • Ongoing, is huge fan of professional wrestling.

Now you’re intrigued. Right? You need to know,  what’s next for Tom?

Top Gun 2: Maverick! With Val Kilmer and Jennifer Connelly!

OMG! How excited are you!

What about you? Hot for Tom? Or not? Prefer a different action hero? Give us your thoughts in the comments.

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Isabelle Drake’s erotic contemporary romance beach read, Make Me Blush, is currently available for free with Kindle Unlimited. Find her on Facebook or Amazon and follow her snapchat @isadrake for the most personal snaps.

 

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Winning Casey by January Bain

10 Jun

Happy Sexy Snippet Sunday! This week we have a hot bit from Book One of January’s Brass Ring Sorority series,

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Blurb:

Headstrong archeologist Casey spends her life exploring the world for hidden treasure and ancient artifacts. A free spirit, her dedication to her calling means she’s often in conflict with the more narrow-minded higher-ups at the university where she’s employed as an associate professor. Timetables, rules, protocols—they all go out of the window when Casey’s on the hunt.

The inscrutable Professor Truman Harrison falls for Casey at first sight, literally, tumbling into a pit at her feet on first meeting. Now, if he as Casey’s new, detested department head can just talk her into helping him search for the legendary treasure buried in the Money Pit of Oak Island, Nova Scotia, maybe he can also get her to fall into his bed. But first he needs to prove to her he’s not just another tunnel-visioned box-ticking management ‘suit’.

But the romance of this scorching-hot couple proves to have all the twists, turns, false starts and trick corners of a multicursal labyrinth. Luckily, both Casey and Truman have no small skill and a little bit of practice in navigating those…

Excerpt:

“Do you have a boyfriend, Casey? I was wondering, as I can’t imagine his wanting you to be wandering all over the countryside without his protection. I know I’d have some objections if it were my woman going off with a strange man looking for ancient treasure.”

“What! I am quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much!” And just when he wasn’t looking quite so annoying he came out with that old line.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

“No,” she admitted, the alcohol freeing her tongue. “My track record on that score is dismal. Never seems to go past one or two dates. Most guys just don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” Truman sat so close heat radiated from his warm flesh. She shivered.

“The last guy I went out with liked ketchup on his burned steak for heaven’s sake! Who does that to a forty-dollar steak?” The alcohol loosened her tongue further. “And then there was the guy, an accountant, talked about his retirement plans on the first date,” she said with a snort. “And his married brother with their two perfect children. Showed me photos on his facebook page and everything. He just wanted a wife and one point seven children.” She took another sip of the liquor to stop herself from going any further. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear about my dating woes.”

“No, it’s quite fascinating, really.”

“My bullshit meter says differently,” she said with a snort.

“I understand about commitment issues.”

“Why, have you been burned professor?” Hardly the question one should ask their boss, but he’d started it.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He had someone specific in mind, obviously.

“Care to talk about it?”

“No, done enough of that already,” he said, a twinge of bitterness exposed.

“Therapy is overrated,” she said. “My personal philosophy is ‘suck it up buttercup’ and get on with things.”

It was his turn to snort. “Yeah, well maybe next time.” He got to his feet. “I’d better make us some coffee, darlin’. I’m starting to feel a little too good.” He froze. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“I hear something large moving in the bush directly across from us. I’ll bet that Byrne is up to something,” he said grimly as he got to his feet. “You stay here. I’ll check.”

“Like hell!” she said scrambling off the chair. She had more training than him on defensive moves, she’d bet her bottom dollar on it.

He gave her a quick look.

“I’ll head to the right. You take the left,” she whispered before he could speak. As quietly and fast as possible she maneuvered around rocks and debris taking a wide berth into the stand of trees, all senses on high alert. Truman headed in the opposite direction, moving like a shadow. Not bad. For a suit.

Bright red eyes glowed fiery in the darkness. She froze, a twig crackled under her shoe making her wince. Every sense on high alert. The eyes were approximately a meter above the ground, the right height for a very large dog or giant wolf.

The head moved slowly as it caught her scent. The piercing eyes bore into hers. Fuck. What was it?

She trained to ward off humans—but this–this was something else entirely. Her breath quickened. Raspy. Too fast. She longed for full body padding. A gun. Bear spray. Any weapon.

Calm down.

She racked her brain. It could only be one thing. The Devil Dog.

Legendary guardian of buried treasure. Byrne had to be playing at creating one to frighten them off. It wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real. Someone in a costume most likely. She took a step closer. Her eyes remained riveted on the spot. Prayed she was right. Because if she was wrong…

The dark shape moved closer. She stood her ground. Swallowed. Hard. Was it going to attack? Her alcohol befuddled mind froze. Time froze.

Then in a flash it turned and began moving toward the shore, away from them. She heard Truman following as she rushed forward, not worrying about being heard now that whatever it was knew they were onto it.

They reached the beach. Casey whirled around.

Gone. Nowhere to be seen.

“What the fuck!” she exclaimed.

“My sediments exactly,” Truman said coming up to her. With only a sliver of moon the beach navigating the beach was difficult, filled with lurking potholes and large objects. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket and shone it on the ground, looking for prints in the sand. Nothing conclusive.

“Hologram?” she asked, musing aloud. Let out a deep breath. “Laser eyes? Little person in a costume?” Now safe, she could let out the stress.

He gave a bark of laughter at the last one. “Not sure, it moved silently. I wouldn’t put it past him though to come up with some crazy way of doing it. He wants us gone. He’s made that abundantly clear.”

~~~~~

Get your copy of Winning Casey direct from the publisher or Amazon. Book Two, Chasing Lacey, is being released June 19th.

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If you are looking for January Bain, you can find her hard at work every morning without fail in her office with two furry babies trying to prove who does a better job of guarding the doorway. And, of course, she’s married to the most romantic man! Who once famously remarked to her inquiry about buying fresh flowers for their home every week, “Give me one good reason why not?” Leaving her speechless and knocking her head against the proverbial wall for being so darn foolish. She loves flowers.

If you wish to connect in the virtual world she is easily found on Facebook, twitter and writes a weekly blog about her journey on Blogger. Oh, and she loves to talk books…

 

 

 

This is my bag. What’s yours?

8 Jun

The first purse I remember is my grandmother’s painted basket. It was made of brownbasket “straps” and painted with colorful buildings. I’d stare at the bright buildings and wonder who lived in them. What were their lives about? A single penny was glued to the fliptop lid. I thought it was completely wonderful and filled with grownup lady secrets. All these years, I still don’t know everything that was kept inside it. Here are the things I’m certain were inside: filterless Camels, a lighter, and reading glasses.  My grandmother wore kitten heels, twin sets that she knitted herself and I wanted to be just like her.

The first purse I owned was a gift. It was yellow plastic, covered with flowers, and had a long shoulder strap. I have no idea what I kept inside it, but I do remember feeling like a grownup lady with it hanging from my shoulder.

vintage-coach-saddle-leather-handbag-purse-2-two-handles-zipper-tag-usa_1870685The first purse I bought was a brown leather Coach bag. It was heavy and plain but I loved it. This was back before discount malls, so it was seriously expensive. I bought it at department store using money I’d earned driving a Good Humor ice cream truck.  Inside I kept my Girl Scout date book, bright pink lipstick, and occasionally, the plastic army guys I used to line up on sidewalks and restaurant tables.

I own several bags now. A big everyday one, a basket I carry in the summer, a jeweled redred one I get out for special occasions–those are only a few. Every time I switch bags, I look at what I keep with me, think about what’s important to me. What do these smalls things say about my life?

Whatever you call it, a purse, handbag, pocketbook, it can be an expression of you and your life. Maybe it holds your secrets, maybe it holds twelve lipsticks or none.  Give us a shout in the comments, tell us about your bag and what’s inside.

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Isabelle Drake’s new release is Make Me Blush, an steamy beachread anthology. Get your copy on Kindle and other outlets.

 

 

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Her Sir by Megan Slayer

13 May

It’s Sunday and that means we’re here with a sexy Sunday snippet. This week we have a yummy bit from Megan Slayer’s Her Sir.
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Blurb:

There’s only one man for Andi—her Sir.

Andi McCarron knew the moment she met Sir’s gaze, he’d change her life forever. Despite other Doms wanting her as their sub, she only submits to him because he knows how to make her skin tingle. The pain delivered from his crop makes her spirit sing. She needs Sir but she wants more—except he’s not interested in taking the relationship outside of the club. What’s a girl to do when the man of her dreams, the one wielding the crop, won’t leave the club?

Dean Meyer craves his sweet sub, Andi. She fills his dreams and fantasies, but she wants a relationship. He’s not sure she can handle both his demons and secrets. Still, he can’t deny the attraction to her. When fate throws them together, he has to make a choice—give his sub what she needs or let her go for good.

Excerpt:

“You control everything,” she blurted. Her cheeks reddened, and she bowed her head.

“Sorry. But you do.”

“Actually, you do. When we play, you’re the one in control. You say stop or slow, and I follow. I push you, but you tell me when you’re done. I’ll encourage you to stretch your boundaries, but only because I want to make you fly.” He pushed the cooling coffee to the side. “If you say no, then I respect your decision.”

“You expect me to kneel.” She flattened her palms on the table. “Like that last time.”

“I wanted to show off my beautiful woman. If you’d have said no before we left the private area, I would’ve stayed out of the main room.” He leveled his gaze at her. “I expect a partner. You were my best partner.” He hadn’t taught her very well if she thought she was second rate. When they played again—and they would be—he’d show her what he meant.

“You have one. A partner. I saw the demonstration,” she said. “You replaced me.”

“Slow down.” He hadn’t known she was at the club when he’d done the demonstration or he would’ve plucked her from the audience. “Which demo?”

“There’s more than one?”

“I don’t have a permanent sub, so I’m expected to do demonstrations for visitors, for the videos … for people who want to play the voyeur. That’s part of my job at the club.” Not his favorite part and he couldn’t wait to pass the torch to someone else, but he’d tell her that later. She managed to aggravate him like no other. He wanted to stretch her ass across his lap and spank the sass out of her. Then he wanted to kiss her until she collapsed. He wasn’t one to settle down, but she made him think twice. In her own way, she’d broken him.

“I thought we had something.” She turned her cup around. “Now I understand I was just another client.”

“I never said that. Never thought it,” he said. She’d been special from the start. He loved the way she felt in his arms, the way she moaned during a scene, the flicker in her eyes just before she came…

“Then why replace me? Why not tell me how you felt?” she asked. “Or have you come to this realization now that we’re not at the club?”

“First, I didn’t replace you. I don’t have any one sub I play with. The girls in the video are one and done. No sex, just demonstration and go. I haven’t found anyone who can fill your place. I’ve had a couple offers, but they aren’t you.” They shouldn’t be having this conversation in public, but she needed reassurance. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

©2018 Megan Slayer, All Rights Reserved

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Her Sir is out now. Get your copy from Evernight Publishing,  Amazon, or hit the Universal link for other e-oulets.

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Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. Find out more about Megan (and Wendi) and check out her Blog or Facebook Fan Page.

Sexy Snippet: Servant of the Undead…A Cage, Chains, and a Zombie Sex Cult

11 May

If you’ve been with Lady Smut for a while, you’ll remember Servant of the Undead. I posted it on the weekends, as a serial. Guess what? Now it’s out in ebook & print and even bigger and badder with a new ending. And–I’ll be at RT next week at the signing on Saturday.

Not attending RT in Reno? No worries. Lady Smut is here to take care of you. We’ll be playing around on Twitter, follow LadySmut1 now and get ready to start using #LadySmut.

Can’t wait until next week to get your #moremattie fix? Buy links are below.

SERVANT cover

Blurb:

Having sex with an ice-covered, smudgy-eyed woman in tattered fishnets and a barely-there mini-skirt is Hayden Thomas’ first mistake. His second: thinking he’s in control of what happens next.

The city of Boston is held hostage by a snow storm and rumors are spreading about zombies roaming the streets, looking for human flesh. Hayden Thomas, tabloid newspaper writer, is out to get something fresh about zombies for his editor. At the Boston Public Library, Hayden uncovers some old research that suggests that some zombie tribes survive by having constant sex instead of eating human flesh.

Mattie, a zombie out looking for information on a rival tribe, finds Hayden and uses him for sex. After using him, she discovers his research. She wants to find out how to reverse herself and become one of the living again, so she decides to keep Hayden as her sexual servant so she can use him for information as well as sex.

isabelledrake-teaser

Excerpt:

Hayden ground his teeth, trying to crush the sensation in his jaw, but couldn’t pull his gaze away from Mattie’s glistening, exposed body. Tiny icicles clung to the tangles of her hair and flakes of snow dotted her thighs, bare above the edge of the tights. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his mind from acknowledging the blood flowing to his cock. “The guy I work for thinks they’re a great tie-in to the zombie stuff—my piece, the comic convention and the opening of Zombie Rites. And all that stuff about zombies—”

“Roaming the streets?” she cut in, grinning as she dropped her hand to smack snow off her limp skirt. Once she got the clumps off, she ran her fingers across the hem, inching it up her bare thighs.

Holy fuck, he was starting to remember what it felt like to be inside her. Driving into her tight core, pounding until he couldn’t think straight.

Hayden glanced at the apartment. Rachelle was not peering out the window, watching for him. Thank God. He shifted back. Most girls would probably get pretty pissed at a guy who took a video of himself grinding his dick into her, but this girl seemed anything but pissed. Hayden found himself watching the flicker of her stubby black fingernails as she inched up the hem of her skirt. He knew she wasn’t wearing panties. Five inches was all it would take and her bare pussy—

He took a sharp step forward, ready to shove her out of the way if necessary. She grabbed his arm and jerked him close enough for her nipples to brush against him.

“My girlfriend is waiting for me,” he said, pointing to the third story of the brownstone.

Mattie tossed back her mass of hair, exposing a small black device tucked into her ear. “I know. ‘Don’t make me wait.’ Isn’t that what she said?” A cruel smile tugged on the corner of her full mouth as she took in his expression. “You don’t understand yet, do you? Let me explain. You belong to me now. Until I’m done with you, that is.” She forced one of her legs between his thighs and lifted until her knee pressed into his solid cock. “I’m liking you more and more, so we may be together a while.”

Hayden jerked his arms free and reached for her pale throat. The skin beneath his palms was wet, slick, smooth. And cold, lifeless.

“Go up there and fuck your girlfriend,” she said, then shoved him away and moved toward the wall of the row house. She propped her booted foot on the cornerstone and lifted herself. She slithered up; her hands clutching the frost-covered bricks, then paused about ten feet from the ground. “And make it hot. Because I’ll be watching.” And with that, she crept up to the third-floor window and nestled under the eave.

Get your copy straight from the publisher Riverdale Ave Press Books, Amazon or other ebook outlets.

And get ready to play around with LadySmut next week!

RT-18-Reno-Banner-V3

Isabelle Drake has just finished the spring semester and is currently at a loss as to what to do with herself. This disorientation is expected to last 36 hours. After that time she will get back to writing. Her other new release is Make Me Blush, an steamy beachread anthology. Get your copy on Kindle and other outlets.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Make Me Blush by Isabelle Drake

6 May

Happy hot Sunday! This week we have a bit from one of the three stories tucked inside Make Me Blush by Isabelle Drake, a beach read anthology just in time for the summer.

Make Me Blush eBook

Blurb:

Three men: risking everything for the women they love…
The result: three stories of wild, over-the-top sexy satisfaction and three happily-ever-afters.

Pink Lace
Edward knows his wife wants more than his usual brand of gentle lovemaking, so he signs a contract with Winona, a woman who creates custom sexual experiences. He expects a simple lesson in seduction, something to spark Kelly’s interest, but as he settles in front of newly installed video monitors he realizes he’s been neglecting his wife’s beautiful wild side.

Pink Bow
In a luxurious house on the beach, where couples gather to privately enjoy a taste of sexual freedom, Abby’s about to experience the hottest gift a husband can give.

Wicked Pink
If Matthew knew how intensely Tara, his gorgeous raven-haired wife, loves him, he might not deliver her into the arms of his best friend, Dan. Dan thought he’d left behind his life filled with whips and exotic tools. But when given a chance to put his talents to use, he realizes that knowing how to unleash a woman’s wicked side has advantages.

Excerpt from Pink Bow:

Troy and I got married six months ago, so it won’t surprise you to know we have a lot of sex. But there’s one night each week that’s extra-special—every Thursday we play Scrabble first.

I know when I say it like that it sounds really boring, but trust me—it isn’t. Troy’s dick is always hard throughout the entire game and he really knows how to make me beg for what I actually want. I’ll be sitting across the board from him, watching his long fingers put the tiles in place, wondering how he’s going to make me come later. By the time the game is over, I’m on fire with anticipation.

But one Thursday night, about three months ago, instead of pulling the Scrabble board out from under the bed, he led me to the closet and told me to put on my shortest skirt and highest heels and left the room. I made a joke out it and put on a pair of rhinestone stripper heels a friend had given me to wear for my bachelorette party. Then I slipped into a tiny slip-on skirt I bought on clearance but never wore. No top. No panties.

He didn’t laugh when I marched out into our small living room, jiggled my boobs and then spun around to show him my bare ass. He looked me up and down from where he was sitting on the couch and said, totally straight-faced, “The no-panties idea is perfect, but you better go ahead and put a shirt on or I’m going to fuck you, right here, right now. Then you’d never get to see what I have planned for you.” Then he looked away and added, “So hurry up and get ready so we can go.”

“Where’re we going?”

He didn’t look at me. He just gestured to the hall that led to our bedroom.

“Should I wear t-shirt? Or a nice blouse?” I asked, stepping backward toward our bedroom.

He got up and folded his arms across his chest. “Wear the sluttiest top you can come up with.”

That got my attention. Not him using the word “sluttiest”. I’m used to that because he calls me “slut” all the time. And for good reason—I can’t get enough. However and whenever he wants to fuck me, I’m ready. Sometimes I think I’ll never, ever get enough sex. Before Troy and I got married, I was pretty wild. But I was doing a good job of keeping my unusually intense sex drive a secret from my husband. At least I thought I was. It was on that Thursday night that I learned he’d known the truth about me for a while.

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Make Me Blush is out now. Get your Kindle ebook or paperback today from Amazon.

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Isabelle Drake ignores the advice that it’s best to stick to one genre. Her next book, out May 3, Servant of the Undead, is erotic horror .

Find Isabelle on Facebook or Amazon and follow her snapchat @isadrake for the most personal snaps.

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