Wednesday, November 30, 2011

New Release: Taken Bi Love by Amber Rose Thompson


Sex for pay is the way Brian likes it. No talking, no intimacy, no ties. His body for sale to whoever pays the price. Then his sister guilts him into taking on Rebecca, a virginal, man-shy customer on a pro bono basis. Soon, Rebecca's "no's" become "yes's". Now Rebecca wants him to talk before she's willing to get undressed. Soon, their forced intimacy makes Brian reassess what he really wants from sex, and Rebecca throws caution to the wind when she finds an orgasm is what makes life worth living. What neither expects is to discover their own sexuality and preferences, resulting in a surprise happy ending - when each is taken by bi-love - because sometimes sex has a way of rewriting the rules for love.


Taken Bi Love
Scheherezade’s Gift


Taken Bi Love: Chapter One

Brian craned back his neck.

Brown hair flopped, hanging limp like beagle ears. Overhead water spurted, and his eyes shut from the barrage as air momentarily caught in his chest. He forced himself to breathe as the water cascaded over his nose making rivulets down his chin and over his throat.

Skin, shaved nearly free of hair from the night before, glistened with residue body oil still clogging his pores. Water mixed with oil, causing pools of vanilla bourbon to stain the water swirling at his feet.

Heat reactivated the oil, and his thoughts retreated back to the night before and the serious manhandling session; soreness still radiated outward from his butt hole.

Brian forced open his eyes; long curling lashes weighed down with water. Drops hit his eyes, forcing his thoughts back into the present. He despised it when clients invaded his shower space. They paid for his ass and dick in bed. No one, no one, got his shower time.

All verbal contracts firmly stipulated shower scenes as off limits and non–negotiable. Showers were serene, pure, clean, solitary endeavors. Some people meditated; Brian showered. Concept was the same but results differed. His cleanliness was physically present in the now, not an ephemeral state of consciousness.

People seriously underrated showers. With water turned on full power, sounds outside his meditation chamber disappeared leaving him gloriously alone to the sanctity of soap and scalding water. Turning up the temperature, he burned off the touch of last night. Meaty hands from a college football player, number Seventeen in specific, were all over him, particularly the lower half.

 Seventeen had shown no interest in Brian's hair or youthful body. Instead, Seventeen had paid for a very intimate long petting, fondling, and thrashing session with his ass and cock. Evidently the local cheer leading squad couldn't quite satisfy Seventeen's need for dick and ass simultaneously. A cheerleader with a strap on performed quite
differently from a swollen cock yanked mercilessly from the body while the ass was drilled for oil.

Brian looked down at his groin hoping there was no physical bruising or abrasions to hide. None. He was in the clear. His dick hung firm, not a centimeter smaller than at its most engorged – handy oddity for his side job. The perpetual 3-D lines of his groin helped nail potential clients without the need for fancy clothes or winning commentary. In a strange way, his crotch meant he had a very quiet job when it came to actual talk. And he liked it that way. He was all about the silence.

Taking ample soap, he lathered antiseptic gel around his cock and balls. Studying about contagious diseases alongside his work, meant showering was not only meditative but schizophrenic to a manic level, a dichotomy of forces that only water could balance. Showers were not over until his skin was wrinkled like a walnut shell and clean enough to use as a surgical surface. Silence and cleanliness. He was a monk with an interesting way of making the world a better and happier place.

Cupping each ball, he massaged in the soap filling valleys and ridges of his pleated scrotum with microbe eating suds. Brain could switch between dominant or submissive in bed, but when it came to his genitalia he personally pulverized the soap into them. Call it his personal fetish. While it certainly did go towards his goal of being clean, it also felt damn good to be the one squeezing his own balls.

Clasping each sack, he kneaded his fingers, digging deep to hidden testicles waiting to be stirred back to action. Hard wired, his balls rose to the stimulation, elevating towards his shaft for active duty. Prodding and poking he shook each fistful like a cat trying to break the neck of a soft furry animal.

Juggling them, he let the shower rain over the soap tingling skin to jump alive with a hundred nerve endings sparking in response. His skin stretched hoping for continuation.

Tugging his sack in towards his tight stomach, he exposed his shaft and ran his fingers up and down, forming a ring between pointer and thumb. Soap trailed over the ridge and onto his reddening head. Massaging the tip, he spread himself to let soapy water bubble around his urethral opening. Despite all lube used, friction had worn him down from hand to shaft combat, and the soap found every sensitive spot from the tug-o-war game Seventeen had begged him to play as Seventeen charged into his ass calling out orders on how to tug or pummel.

From the heat and soap, his cock didn't so much swell as rise up in hopes of finding an orifice to insert tab A into any slot. Brian whacked it for its impertinence at suggesting it felt needs after Seventeen's slaughter, but the cock didn't care. Seventeen was history
and it had been hours.

Holding his piece by the tip, he bent it towards his perfectly triangular patch of pubic hair, the apex of the triangle pointing downward suggestively. Clients really had no need for graphical maps, but if eyes were going to travel down they might as well have
something to look at.

Brian scratched at his ridge, playing with the scar where once a flap had been. Grooves from his nails filled with soap, and his teeth gritted automatically. His neck extended, spine popping from being hunched over all evening and now finally allowed to straighten out.

He bounced his cock against his palm considering the possibilities, but he had a ways to go before such thoughts could be entertained. His ass itched in a burning way. Seventeen had probably torn his flesh digging in with coarse fingers seeking to imitate art; his own personal Goatsee picture burned onto his retina for late night replay.

Gingerly, he worked the soap down under his cock, past the perineum, and around to counteract the itchiness that had woken him up from orgasmic drugged sleep. Using his finger as a cleaning plunger, he worked his butthole open and corkscrewed his finger in to get all the nooks and crannies. Taking a pumice stone, he attacked his butt cheeks.

"Man, you really take showering seriously."

Brian levitated into the shower stream, dropping the pumice stone on his foot. "Fuck Jed. What the hell are you doing in here?"

Jed slid the bathroom door the rest of the way open, pushing the mirrored surface into the wall groove. "Can't hold it any longer."

"You've been in here forever." He moved his large form into the small space between shower and doorway, positioning himself by the toilet.

 Brian yanked the shower curtain around him, spraying water outside the shower confines. "Now? You have to go now? Couldn't you have waited a bit longer or knocked?" Brian's head peeped out from behind the curtain.

"You didn't hear me with all that water. You're such a prude. It's not like I'm going in the shower with you. I've seen it all anyway."

Jed turned sideways to face the toilet and yanked up the Hello Kitty apron he was wearing as his only clothing. From under Hello Kitty's smiling face, a warm jet stream of yellow liquid churned into the toilet.

"Jesus." Brian's head whipped behind the shower curtain.

 "I can hear you, and you shouldn't curse." Jed finished up and lowered Hello Kitty to graze the top of his thighs. His ass was completely exposed in the back under the apron strings.

"Then fucking don't burst into my bathroom."

 "Our bathroom and if you didn't spend hours scraping off your work I wouldn't have to." Jed looked at the plastic wrapped Brian.

"Why do you care anyway? I've seen you naked." Jed washed his hands and dried them slowly, making sure his fingernails were squeaky clean.

"But not in the bathroom and not when I'm showering. It's different." Brian kicked the faucet with his foot to shut off the water.

"Why?" Jed's six foot three inches was doing a good job of making the bathroom shrink precariously.

"Because it is." Brian's hand darted out trying to reach a towel.

"I hope you don't sound like such a baby when you're working. No wonder you need me."

"Get out of here."

"But you're done. I'll get you a clean towel."

"Out. Now. And don't you dare hand me a towel." Brian balled up his fist.

Jed rolled his eyes and shuffled out, sliding the door closed with a thud.

Brian stepped out of the shower, and yanked down a clean towel waiting on the shelf above the toilet. Jeez the man hotel rolled their towels and then had the audacity to act like Brian was weird one for wanting to hang a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the bathroom door.

By the time Brian stepped out of the bathroom with a towel cinched around his waist, Jed was back in the kitchen pretending to ignore him as he elegantly flipped pancakes back onto the griddle for the final browning touch.

Brian slunk into one of the two chairs pushed under their table. He noticed the textbooks he'd tossed down were now neatly piled with a note taped to them saying 'Please find me a proper home'. Jesus, Jed's a nutcase.

Brian realized the spatula had stopped hovering in mid-air and was now sliding pancakes onto plates already trimmed with sausage and eggs. Food shoveling stopped, but Jed still kept his back to him.

Fucking A. Who was being the baby now? Brian's stomach growled, demanding he cave in.

"Sorry I yelled at you, but you surprised me." Brian rolled his eyes at Jed's back.

Jed stayed facing the stove. "Putting a 'but' on the end of an apology nullifies it."

Brian's stomach erupted in a litany of growls. Goddamn it. "Sorry I'm a slob?"

Jed was silent, but delivered heavy plates to the table.

Brian eyed the food. "Am I allowed to eat your food, then?"

"Like I could stop you." Jed's chair creaked under a mass of bones and muscles as he sat down, shielding his eyes as Brian savagely undid the pristine arrangement of food items and began a conveyor belt of food to mouth.


 "Stop talking with your mouth open. It's grotesque." Jed cut his pancakes into bite-sized pieces and put easy to swallow amounts on his fork.


 "You said that already," Jed swallowed each piece before spearing another.

 Brian dug his thighs into the edge of the chair. "Why do we always fight the morning after?"

"We aren't fighting."

"Good to know." Brian waited for Jed to look then rolled his eyes.

"Last night was cocky." Jed pushed a sausage around in circles.

Brian broke his hand to mouth highway system. "He tried something?"

"Hell no, not with me around. S'why I'm here. But he swaggered out of here like he had your goods and not that little thing hanging between his legs." Jed stood the sausage on its end then let it fall.

 "You weren't in the bedroom with us. You don't know what he was heaving," Brian hurried through his sentence so he could get more food in his mouth.

"Could tell. Besides you deserve better than that attitude."

"Let me get this straight, we're fighting because you're ticked off at him?" Brian finished his food and eyed the cooling nutrients still on Jed's plate. He tentatively tried forking one of Jed's pancakes. Jed hissed, but it didn't stop Brian from snagging it and swallowing it nearly whole.


 "You're the one to blame for making good food." Brian was angling his fork to steal more when the plate was shoved in his direction.


"I just think you deserve better." Jed patted his mouth on a napkin.

"He better have paid up."

"We have the next year's book money no problem." Brian ate quickly enough that the food mixed in his mouth into a breakfast slurpy.

"Better be clean money."

"And you call me the prude. Want me to iron the bills?" Brian used his finger to lick up the last crumbs before pushing his plates back towards Jed.

"Wouldn't hurt you to bruise a finger and put those dishes in the sink you know." Jed looked askance at the plates.

"See this is what I mean. We're fighting. You know if I did that you'd yell at me for putting them in the wrong way. You're setting me up." Brian winked and stood up. "I need to get dressed."

"Don't expect me to strip your sheets and make your bed." Jed yelled after Brian's retreating back.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Guest Author: Hillary Seidl


ia Wright stood completely silent in the doorway. The empty coffee cup she had in hand suddenly weighed twenty pounds. Standing outside the break room she hopped back and kept silent.

“Such an odd girl. Not very personable at all,” Hailey said, “Not sure why Grayson keeps her on here.”

“She doesn’t even talk, doesn’t even smile. It’s like she is a shadow,” Delina responded.

“Oh, she smiles alright,” Hailey, said with a mocking tone, “especially when Gray is in the room.”

Delina’s voice was cutting. “Oh! I’ve seen the way she looks at him! It’s so embarrassing!” Delina giggled.

It was all Sia could take.

The hot flames of embarrassment licked her face as she turned back down the hall to the bathroom. Sia grabbed the stall door shaking it until it relented and opened. She slammed the stall door and sat on the lid pulling her knees to her chest. Her throat constricted, a sob threatened to burst forth. When had she become so apparent? It would seem that she was always doomed when it came to being social.

Sia strived for control and twirled her hair around her finger. She felt her pulse start to quicken and her face was hot to the touch. She took another deep breath as recommended by her old therapist.

In through the nose out through the mouth, imagine your inflating a basketball in your stomach.

The words were a welcome mantra she repeated them in her head.

After a few minutes, she felt better, more in control. She returned to her work area with her head down.

When Grayson stopped just outside her office, she kept quiet, and her eyes diverted from him. She couldn’t afford to lose this job. It was her fourth temp job in five months. She needed the money. She had responsibilities.

With another deep breath, she regained her composure. She filed reports, and set letters aside to be mailed. Her stomach growled but she didn’t want to move.

Grayson stood just beyond the threshold of her office. “How are you doing?”

She pasted a smile on her face. “Everything is fine. You’ll have the Brown report on your desk by Friday.”

He lingered in the doorway. “That’s great. Thanks, Sia.” Grayson tilted his head then continued on. Sia looked at the now empty doorframe, her heart fluttering.

Grayson was handsome with his dark blond hair, a little long in the back. The attraction was immediate —for her anyway.

He didn’t even know she was alive.

Sighing wistfully, she rose and grabbed her empty coffee cup. And to her incredible joy the lunchroom was empty. She poured herself a cup of coffee. She saw something out of the corner of her eye. It was the dark shadow figure. Her hands stilled and her heartbeat increased.

She closed her eyes. This was not happening. It was her imagination. Slowly, she opened her eyes and another shadow darted from right to left.

“No!” she said to the empty room. Forgetting her coffee entirely, she set the cup on the table and walked quickly. She looked back over her shoulder – and ran right into Hailey, sending them both

Sia hit the wall, but Hailey landed on her butt hard. “Ooommpphh!”

Sia bent down and offered her a hand. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” As much as Sia thought she was a snooty bitch, she was horrified at actually knocking her down.

Hailey stood up, ignoring Sia’s hand. She flipped her vibrant red hair, totally dyed, over her shoulder and starred daggers at Sia. “Ugh! You’re so clumsy!” She tugged her short skirt back down.

Sia’s back straightened at the angry words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”

Hailey sighed. The anger was clear in her eyes.  “Yea well, just get out of my way.” Hailey walked by, her shoulder hitting Sia’s as she stormed past.

Sia stood there trying to get a hold of her temper. The anger made her shake. She tried to breathe.

“What happened?” Delina’s nasally voice shrieked when Hailey went into her office. Both of them stood while a red faced Hailey pointed at Sia. The more Hailey talked the more she got dirty looks from Delina.

It was all that Sia could take. 

Sia’s hands clenched at her side while the helplessness and anger boiled inside of her. “I said, I was sorry,” she whispered. Her hair lifted as a great wind came out of nowhere and she watched as a cloudy line went from her through the office.

Sia watched in fascination, and horror, as the wind rose up and blew papers everywhere in Delina’s office. Books flew of the shelf, the chair was knocked over, and Hailey and Delina screamed as the intense wind continued.

Grayson came out of his office. “What’s happening out here?”  Sia’s concentration broke as Grayson ran past her. Delina’s office was now calm. No wind just a few papers settling. Delina and Hailey were standing close to each other, starring at Sia.

“I d-don’t know,” Sia sputtered, still trying to understand what had just happened. As Grayson rushed into the main room, Sia ran back to her desk and yanked the drawer open, quickly grabbed her purse. With everyone yelling and running around, she slipped out of the office quickly and quietly headed for the safest place she could think of.

The library.

Finding Ms. Wright: Sia


I watch a lot of paranormal shows, reality and fiction.  I love them! My must record DVR programs include Supernatural, Vampire Diaries, Once Upon a Time, Ghost Adventures, My Ghost Story, I Survived Beyond and Back and more. The more evidence I see the more I’m fascinated and I want more.   Who wouldn’t want proof of an afterlife?  A popular ghost sighting in places are what people call ‘Shadow People’.  They are thought to be dangerous spirits that torment.  Ever seen something out of the corner your eye?  Fast darting shadows?  Then it could be shadow people. 

Modern day ghost hunters have captured some very intriguing video evidence of these creatures. I’ve also had experiences with them.  They are scary as hell.  My parents owned a haunted restaurant in Delta, Colorado.  The activity in the place was so high.  Sometimes I would set the tables the night before and when I would open with my dad, the placemats and glasses would be askew.  I wouldn’t understand.  How could that have happened? Who moved them around? I am still trying to answer these questions. 

The shadow people weren’t in the dining room. The shadow people were in the basement.  I remember being completely terrified at the time.  Mostly I tried to ignore it and get out of there as fast as possible.  That’s how I dealt with it. 

This was the inspiration for my part of the anthology, Finding Ms. Wright: Sia.  Whispering voices and seeing black shadows following her is the norm in the beginning of my novella.  Poor girl!  Enter the hunky hero, Andrew.  He has the gift of finding supernatural objects. It comes in very handy.   

When I write paranormal, I try to draw from my own experiences and put them down into entertaining works of fiction.  I have loved romance novels for as long as I can remember and I have loved the paranormal.  Mixing the two has been so fun! I loved writing Sia.  I hope you enjoy it! 

Thank you so much for having me here today!  Have you had experiences with the paranormal?  I would love to hear them!

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Guest Author: Aubrie Dionne

Paradise 21: Space Pirates with a Chip on Their Shoulder
What if the world was ending, and you didn’t make it onto a colony ship?

The space pirates in Paradise 21 are the humans who have been left behind. Deemed “unfit” by genetic tests, or too poor to have any connections to make it aboard, they were doomed to scratch out a living in the ruin after wars, radiation, and zombies (which you’ll find out about in the prequel: A Hero Rising) decimated old Earth.
One leader emerged, James Wilfred, and he stole an unfinished colony ship to transport the people left behind on Earth to Alpha Omega, the largest operating space station meant to keep in contact with the colony ships.

Striker, the hero in Paradise 21, is directly related to James Wilfred, and all I can say is that he follows in his father’s footsteps.

Read Paradise 21 to see exactly how…

My question to you is:
What would you do if you didn’t make it onto a colony ship?


“Gerald, I trust you’re doing well with your new bride. How long’s it been? A month?”

“Seems like five years to me.” He chuckled, but darkness tinged the corners of his eyes. “How can computers be wrong, eh?” He downed his glass of champagne in one desperate gulp. “You have your own ceremony coming up soon, right?”

“Yes, I do.” Barliss stifled his excitement, straightening his collar so his gold lapel pin caught just the right amount of light, and the New Dawn’s insignia of a seventeenth-century ship cutting through water rested above his right bicep.

“How you ever got paired with such a beauty…” Gerald trailed off as his own designated life partner came up and clutched his arm.

Barliss sized her up. Thick makeup covered her ruddy complexion, but nothing could cure her limp brown hair and bony nose. No matter how she stuffed the dress, the front would never be filled out in the right places. Not well enough for Barliss’ taste, anyway. Her beady eyes always had reminded him of the bats in the loading bay.

“Hello, Tilda.”

“Lieutenant Barliss, you look stellar today.”

Barliss’ eyebrows rose, questioning her appraisal. He made it a point to look stellar every day. He didn’t spend fifteen hours a week weight training for fun and games. “So do you, Tilda, my dear,” he lied, playing the game.

She giggled and squeezed Gerald’s arm.

Gerald winced as if she’d grasped him too tightly. Tilda waved to someone in the crowd and placed a wet kiss on her husband’s cheek, smearing her lipstick before slinking away. Gerald gave her a little wave and turned back to Barliss. “Like I said, you’re the lucky one.”

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Friday, September 16, 2011

New Release: Elise Hepner's Roped Emotions


Rapunzel is trapped by the harsh, inescapable reality of her prison, so she builds vivid sexual fantasies where she has full control and no one can take it away. If nothing else, at least she has command over her thoughts.

When Prince Samuel climbs into her tower it’s a small, satisfying excuse to break the rules—until his gentle touch coaxes out her trust. But it’s not enough. No longer can she keep her dark, sexual secrets inside. Rapunzel yearns for rough, passionate sex—a way to unlock her sensual freedom for good.

Vulnerable but unable to turn back, Rapunzel leads Prince Samuel on an intimate journey to define their sexual limits while twisting their definitions of control forever.

“What in Christ’s name…”

I must be hearing echoes from the town nearby, where Mother sells her herbs and braided goods. No one ventures this far toward my tower because Mother’s gone to great lengths to see that they don’t—bear traps are her new favorite method of discouragement. Once one life is claimed, I imagine word spreads fairly quickly to stay away from the area. Why then are there hoof beats that make my head pulse with a slight pain?

There’s no understandable excuse I can delude myself with any longer. Before I can focus on the consequences, I swing my head out the window into the oppressive, humid summer air. Just the very top of his head is visible, his hair brushing past his cheekbones, glowing from the sunshine and shot through with gold. Never have I seen a color so close to my own before—not that I see many people.

For a few moments I can’t quite come to terms with his presence and it’s not for a lack of staring that my pulse inevitably echoes inside my head like an overbeaten drum. This is my chance. Mother won’t be back for quite some time with her wares. He’s circling the tower, slouched over a horse who looks a bit like a nag. Certainly not a proper horse for a man with such fine clothes in gorgeous colors and sumptuous fabrics.
There’s no going back from this moment. It’s a certainty that makes my teeth chatter in a wash of cold fear, despite the heat, and my hands clasp around my middle as I try to hold myself together. He hasn’t looked up yet, more intent on studying the free-standing structure than noticing my shadow plastered across the grass. My mind is desperately working out what I’ll cry out to him. Even as my throat closes with an infusion of happiness that makes me rock on my feet.
“Excuse me?” A tentative question I’m not sure he will hear because it can’t be any louder than a frightened whisper. “Sir, you’re really not supposed to be here.”

Somehow, I’ve managed to make this part louder because he glances up—and his slack-jawed expression is a blow to my chest. He possesses the most gorgeous cobalt blue eyes. Underneath my ribs, the pain grows until taking a full breath is hard. Mother is right, he hasn’t even overcome his shock as my heavy plait of hair rests down the stone side of my prison. He’s not to be trusted.

What am I thinking? He won’t even come near me to aid my escape and his eyes are swamped in confusion—and there’s a flash of unreadable emotion that I refuse to question. He must leave here now and I must somehow convince him to bring no one back with him. I won’t be paraded around for anyone’s amusement. This man has made a mistake coming here.

Yet, there’s still a part of me that grips the windowsill until my palms are numb and that clings to the hope that he will at least acknowledge me. So long since I’ve had any kind of normal conversation. One that didn’t revolve around my hair, my rules or my mother’s day. Won’t he say anything? I’m as trapped by his thick silence as I am by the beauty of his face.

“Please, you must go and tell no one about what you’ve seen. You shouldn’t have ignored the traps. They are there for a reason.”

I don’t know how I’ve gotten that all out because my main focus lies on the foreign stirrings of heat in my cheeks as the pulsing sensation twists lower in my abdomen. What is happening to me? With a certainty that surprises me, I find myself clenching my thighs together, only to have the subtle touch of flesh-on-flesh be more than I can bear. He has yet to take his gaze from mine and a shudder slips up my spine.

“How long have you been here?” His voice carries the strain I hold back and I’m slightly put at ease that at least we are on similar ground. “Who did this to you?”

“For a man who is about to leave, I don’t believe it matters.”

The words barely tumble out of my mouth before I clamp my hand over my lips. I hadn’t meant to be so harsh and instantly regret it. He is so handsome—and these sudden urges, they are overwhelming and confusing to the point where I wish to completely remove the problem. My lips part in an apology and I watch a jovial grin span from ear to ear as he laughs at me until I can’t hear anything but the frantic beat of my heart.

Who is this man? Now he stares at me with a playfulness that washes a wave of goose bumps across my flesh. He doesn’t seem offended, merely amused at my suggestion that he leave. To further that fact, he quickly dismounts and ties his horse to a nearby tree branch. While I can only stare at the way his tight riding boots and breeches hug his muscular body from his calves all the way up to his perfectly rounded buttocks.
Though I’d learned of desire from my mother—and all its wicked principles—I never expected it to rear its head in my lonely, simple world.

However, now my life spirals out of control quickly enough that I tilt back against the wall to my left and watch with trembling hands. This mysterious man climbs the wall of my tower as if it had been built to be climbed so easily—without any aid from my hair. One strong, sun-kissed hand and booted foot at a time. When he offers up his hand to me to pull him over the side, what choice do I have?

Even a man that strong would eventually grow tired and plummet to his death—and I want him tucked close to my body, not on the ground.

“I was beginning to wonder what it took to get some assistance.”

He softly grunts and clasps my hand hard enough that I gasp as I shift my weight to pull him over the side. Muscles I didn’t know existed inside me burn with sharp pain from disuse because of my isolation. His touch radiates heat all along my arm. If it wasn’t for his precarious situation, I would fight to pull away on instinct—but as it is, he manages to throw himself into my home with as much grace as a charging boar—and he trips, falling on top of me and sending us to the hard, stone floor.

His surprisingly soft hand brushes the hair out of my face and lingers, gently stroking, down my cheek. Should I be frightened? Probably. At the moment I can’t bear the thought that my first sincerely gentle touch from a man would be anything but special. His sharp leather scent surrounds my tingling skin.

“Isn’t this a day for surprises?” His gaze cuts through all the fear inside me and his mouth holds the subtle curve of a half smile. “I should move myself off  you, this isn’t proper at all when we’ve barely been introduced.”
Yet he doesn’t move an inch.

A realization whips through my mind and would have left me on the floor if I wasn’t already pinned there by a gorgeous man who touches me with such reverence I might weep. When will this happen again? After this twisted, meandering path of fate, there is no doubt I will be alone again—and I want a loving memory to cling to at night when my old fears tighten my chest until I can’t breathe. This is a choice I can make for myself. And I won’t live the rest of my ordinary, sheltered life not knowing true passion when it burns across my skin.
“They call me Rapunzel.”

His inviting smile lights up my whole world.

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Thursday, September 15, 2011

Guest Author: Rachel Brimble


Nightclub manager, Grace Butler is on a mission to buy the pub where her mother’s ashes are scattered – except the vendor wants to sell to anyone but her. And the vendor happens to be her father…with a secret Grace will do anything to uncover.

Social worker and all-round good guy, Jimmy Betts needs cash to buy a house for three special kids before their care home closes. In a desperate bid for cash, he agrees to a one-time ‘job’ for bad-man Karl Butler. But in a sudden turn of events, Jimmy finds himself employed by Karl’s beautiful, funny and incredibly sexy daughter, Grace.

Their lives are so different except for one unifying thread – they are both trying to escape the binds of their tyrannical fathers. But is the key to their liberty each other?




She sat bolt upright. “Where are you going?”

“To the soup kitchen. Four of my kids have been helping out down there today, so if you don’t need me ‘til seven--”

“Can I come?”


“What?” Gerald echoed.

Jimmy stared at her. Was she serious? But knew he wouldn’t refuse her when her eyes were wide with that damn innocent doe-eyed look again and her cheeks flushed pink. He swallowed, clenched his hands into fists inside his pockets.

You want to come to the soup kitchen?” he asked, hoping against hope he’d gotten the wrong end of the proverbial stick.

She winked, and it had as much the same effect as if she’d wrapped her hand around his penis. “Why not?”

He opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it, took a breath, but still nothing came out. Her smile widened. “Cat got your tongue, Jimmy Boy?”

Just a few short days ago at her mother’s pub, he’d wanted to ravish her, possess her, let her know what she did to him. And now the same desire coursed through his veins again. She never stopped surprising him and it just added more fuel to the already burning fire.

“And why would you want to do that?” he asked.

“Beats going into the club early,” she said, brushing past him.

She wandered across the room. Her slender body sashaying around the furniture and then her piece de resistance was to snake all five feet nine inches of it across the oblong dining table to grab her bag--the sight of her perfect ass and even better legs sent Jimmy’s senses skyrocketing. His nostrils flared. Grace by name, Grace by nature. She was beautiful, sexy, funny, and he didn’t doubt for one minute she knew exactly what the sight of her did to him.

She turned around and hitched the bag onto her shoulder. “My life is sad. I’ve got nothing else planned for the afternoon. Come on, Jimmy, help me show my father I have a life away from him. Even if it is a complete lie, for now.”

He threw his hands in the air. “Fine.”


Rachel lives with her husband and two young daughters in a small town near Bath in the UK.  Having always believed there’s someone for everyone, Rachel started writing her own tales of love once her children were at school.  Since then, she’s had several books published with The Wild Rose Press, Eternal Press and Lyrical Press.  She has recently acquired a US agent with her second Victorian historical. A member of the Romantic Novelists Association and Romance Writers of America, Rachel cannot imagine her life without romance or writing!
When she isn’t writing, you’ll find Rachel with her head in a book or walking the beautiful English countryside with her family.  And in the evening?  Well, a well-deserved glass of wine is never, ever refused…

Monday, September 12, 2011

Guest Author: Bernadette Marie


Bernadette Marie has been an avid writer since the early age of 13, when she’d fill notebook after notebook with stories that she’d share with her friends.  Her journey into novel writing started the summer before eighth grade when her father gave her an old typewriter.  At all times of the day and night you would find her on the back porch penning her first work, which she would continue to write for the next 22 years.

In 2007 – after marriage, filling her chronic entrepreneurial needs, and having five children – Bernadette began to write seriously with the goal of being published.  That year she wrote 12 books.  In 2009  she was contracted for her first trilogy and the published author was born.  In 2011 she (being the entrepreneur that she is) opened her own publishing house, 5 Prince Publishing, and has released contemporary titles and will begin the process, eventually, of taking on other authors in other genres.  Also in 2011 she became co-owner of Seven Songs Press and will release a novella as part of an anthology with other very talented authors in November 2011.

Bernadette spends most of her free time driving her kids to their many events.  She is also an accomplished martial artist, working her way to her second degree black belt in Tang Soo Do.  An avid reader, she enjoys most, the works of Nora Roberts and Karen White. She loves to meet readers who enjoy reading contemporary romances and she always promises Happily Ever After.


TWITTER: @writesromance


Regan Keller fell in love with a wealthy and powerful man once. He was her boss. When that turbulent relationship ended, she swore she’d never again date someone she worked with. That was before she literally fell into her new boss’s lap.

Zachary Benson is the head of a successful empire and used to getting what he wants in the boardroom and outside of it – and what he wants is Regan Keller. He’s determined to convince Regan that even though he’s her boss, they can share a life together.

However, when Regan’s past threatens to destroy the architectural firm Zach has invested his entire career in, he has to make an executive decision whether to choose his business or fight for the woman he loves.

Chapter One

Thunder rippled through the gray clouds that loomed overhead.  Regan Keller raised her eyes to the sky.  Please, please don’t rain. As she sent up the silent prayer, she felt the first drop  hit her forehead.

The nervous flutter in her stomach quickened as she looked down at her watch.  Surely her day couldn’t get any worse. But the sky opened up, and those around her crowded together in the bus stop shelter.  Her hair, tied in a tail at the base of her neck, dripped rain down her back as she hunched in her coat.  How could she have forgotten her umbrella?  Had her car been running, she’d have the one tucked safely away in the glove compartment because spring in Tennessee often meant sudden storms.  She should carry one in her bag but had suffered a lapse in memory, having opted for the sunny beaches of Hawaii for the past two years.

As the bus arrived, those under the shelter huddled onto it ahead of her, claiming every seat.  Soaking wet, Regan wedged herself between two people and held onto the handrail above her head. She looked out the window at the commuters driving themselves to work in the pouring rain.  That should have been her. 

A bitter-faced old woman sat below her, her oversized bag occupying the next seat.  Regan bent to ask her to move it, but the woman glared up at her and gave a grunt that sounded like a dog’s bark.  Regan flinched and tried to look away.  But she was compelled to keep an eye on the woman.

The man to the other side of the vacant seat snickered. Regan looked down at him in his long black overcoat and perfect hair.  Hemmed in between the old lady’s bag and an overweight man in a jogging suit, he was as pinned in his seat as she was to the people around her.  She would have given him a piece of her mind for laughing at her had the bus not jolted to a sudden stop.  It lurched forward then back and tossed Regan onto the man’s lap.

“I would have offered you my seat,” he said with a bright grin as the bus lurched again.

“Why, you…” She struggled to free herself, but the crowd moved in tightly around them as the bus bounced down the street.  The pace of her heart kicked into gear and she could feel the sweat bead on her brow. 

She hadn’t been this close to a man in over a year, and the panic of having him actually hold her on his lap was making her more than uncomfortable.  “I need to stand up.”

“You might as well sit.” He wrapped his arms around her.  “Doesn’t look like you’ll be standing again anytime soon.”

Regan took a few deep and cleansing breaths.  She forced down the panic that was filling her body and tried to push it away.  Alexander Hamilton thought she was dead.  There should be no danger in sitting on the lap of a nice-looking man.  She should find it within her to enjoy the experience and focus on something else.

He didn’t have an accent native to Tennessee like hers.  Perhaps the rain had caught him off guard as well.  If she didn’t relax, she’d have a heart attack, and this nice gentleman who wasn’t from Nashville would probably be blamed for her death on the bus on his way to work.

Accepting her predicament at face value would be a prime opportunity to let go of bitter feelings for the opposite gender, though after what she’d been through, she wasn’t sure she could.  The thought of ever loving another man or letting one touch her made her palms sweat and her stomach clench.

The man smiled at her, and a dimple formed in his cheek. “This is your first time on this bus, isn’t it?” He pushed back a wet wisp of hair from her forehead, and she flinched away.  “It’s always crowded, but I know I would have seen you.”

“My car wouldn’t start this morning.”  She pressed her hand to her jittery stomach and willed it to settle.  “I start a new job today. Car trouble couldn’t have come at a worse time.” 

“New job?  Congratulations. So what is this new job?”

God, he was handsome, and wouldn’t it be nice to enjoy the ride?  But she wasn’t.  “Executive assistant.”  The words shook as she spoke.

“Pretty important.”

“You think it’s just some glorified secretary, don’t you?”  She clenched her teeth and her fists.  Why wouldn’t she be angry?  The last man she’d worked for had interpreted the title executive assistant as a license to run her life and to ruin it.

“No.  I was serious.  It’s a very important position.”  He looked sincere.  “So where is this new job?”

“Benson, Benson and Hart.”

“Real estate development.” 

“Yes.”  Her breath was becoming harder to push through her lungs. “I should get off your lap.” 

“You’d ruin my day.”  He laughed easily, so she tried to relax.  “So whose executive assistant will you be?” 

“Zachary Benson’s.” She looked around for a space to stand.

“CEO?  He must have been very impressed with you.”

“I’ve never met him.  His current assistant is having a baby and leaving the company.  He was out of town when she interviewed me.”  She thought about Mary Ellen, his current assistant.  The interview had had a motherly quality to it.  She wasn’t sure whether it was because Mary Ellen was pregnant or that worried for her boss. “I think she takes good care of him.  It’ll be a hard pair of shoes to fill.”  And if that hadn’t had her stomach tied in knots, here she was having a conversation about it with a man she didn’t know while sitting on his lap.  Had she completely forgotten the last man she’d gotten this close to tried to kill her?

“I’m sure he’ll be pleased with her choice.”

“Thank you.”  She wanted to wiggle away from the hard muscles she could feel in his chest, from his arms that held her tight against him, and from the legs of a man who obviously kept in shape.  She couldn’t, so she kept talking. “I hope he likes me. I can’t imagine him not wanting to meet me first.”

“Maybe he’s ugly.”

Finally a laugh rolled from her throat. “That’s not what Mary Ellen said.” She tucked in her lips.  “She says he’s a hottie.”

“Hottie?”  His voice lit with humor.  “Well, you’ll enjoy your job then.”

“Strictly business here.  I don’t get involved with the boss,” she said sternly.  Not anymore.  This was, after all, her chance to take back her life after making such a mistake.

The bus stopped, and the old woman stood and grabbed her bag.

“Move!”  She shoved her way through the people who climbed on and made her way out the door.  Before Regan could stand and claim a seat, the crowd around her pushed her closer against the stranger, whose arms wrapped tightly around her as others dropped down beside them.

“Your stop is the next one,” he offered, and she nodded.  “So what’s your name?”


“You’re native to Tennessee, aren’t you? Your accent gives you away.”

“I was born in Memphis.  I spent most of my life in Nashville though.  I did a stint in Los Angeles and then lived in Maui for the last two years.  I missed home though.”  The more she tried to suppress her nerves, the more she talked.

“Los Angeles?  Tried your hand at Hollywood?”

“No.” She shook her head.  “I worked for a prominent lawyer who had some big-name clients.  But I wasn’t seeking fame and fortune.”
“Well, Ms. Executive Assistant, I’m glad you came home or this would have been a very boring ride this morning.”  The bus stopped, and most of the people began to move to the door.  “This is your stop.” 

She finally stood and turned to exit with the crowd without looking back.

The man caught her hand and held it.  Her very core shook, and her first instinct was to rip her hand away.  But she needed to move on and not be so damn afraid of every man that gave her attention.

“Would you have lunch with me?” he asked.

“What?” She looked back at people climbing on. If she didn’t exit the bus now, she’d miss her stop. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

“Meet me at the hot dog stand at noon just on the north corner of your building,” he said with a wink and a nod.

She couldn’t think to speak.  She nodded as she hurried off the bus.

The rain had subsided for the time being.  Regan had almost dried off as she sat on the handsome man’s lap.  The smell of his cologne lingered on her coat.  She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him.

She stopped as she neared the door and turned to see the bus drive away.  He was watching her from the window, and he waved.  It occurred to her she didn’t even know his name. 

She looked down at her hands.  They were shaking.

Get over it.  Move on.  Not everyone wanted to hurt her.  Not every man was evil with ulterior motives.  No, some were just nice men who wanted to take you to lunch.

Well, it wasn’t like he’d asked her to stay at a hotel.  He’d offered to buy her a hot dog.  Really, it was harmless.  And he’d assume she was too busy with her new job if she just didn’t show up.

But she wanted to.

Well, there was no better time to move on with her life, and no better way to get to know the man on whose lap you’d ridden to work than over a hot dog. 

A tingle of hope shot through her.  She needed to start taking back her life the way she wanted it.  No more mistakes. No more regrets.  It was her life now, and she was going to enjoy it.