Thursday, March 30, 2017

It's the Book You've Been Waiting for! Ghost Wolf Sneak Peek

The countdown to Ghost Wolf's release is on! It's the book every Willow Bend fan has been asking for--Chief Enforcer Julian remains one of the most enigmatic wolves in the series.

Pre-Order Ghost Wolf!

It's the book you've been waiting for! Don't miss the stunning conclusion to the Guardians of the Wolves!

Most Lone Wolves have a story—a pack they left behind, a love they lost, or worse, one they buried. Some leave their packs to roam because they crave freedom, and independence. Some leave because in their hearts, they can’t bear to stay. Some leave because they see no way to go back… 

Packs attacked. Humans forced to turn. Enforcers murdered. 

Julian has been juggling the conflict without a real target for months, they always seem to be just one step behind the Volchitsa and even the wolves they’ve captured can’t tell them enough. With the fate of the packs resting squarely on his shoulders, Julian, the Chief Enforcer, will swallow his pride to seek out the one wolf he knows can help them all, the one who seems to know all the players, who can think like them…if anyone can find the Volchitsa it’s the ghost he’s hunted for decades…

Sneak peek!

Wednesday, March 29, 2017


Early this month, a lingering illness drove me to my keeper shelf, from which I pulled out—an old $.95 paperback edition of Georgette Heyer’s A Civil Contract. As I read, I started thinking about a question I’m often asked by readers—Where do you get your ideas?

Heyer leaves clear clues about her sources, one of which is my own favorite source—Jane Austen! Heyer has the heroine of her book read Austen’s Sense and Sensibility and prefer that novel to more “romantic” works by other writers. Jenny Chawleigh prefers Austen because Austen writes about “quite ordinary, real persons and not about pirate chiefs, or pashas, and nobody kills anyone.”

I, too, write “Austen-inspired” romance, and what I mean by that is exactly what Heyer does. Heyer, uses the same elements that Austen uses to tell a story of her own—sisters, difficult parents, marrying for love or money, and opposing personality types.

And Heyer writes about the most fundamental decisions Austen characters have to make—how to behave toward family and friends in difficult circumstances!

In A Civil Contract two school friends, sisters of a kind, fall in love with the same penniless young lord. One of the two, Julia, has the “sensibility” prized by Marianne Dashwood in Austen’s novel. She’s full of romantic ideas, assumes that her perfect match is a man who thinks exactly as she does, has very little practicality, and feels herself to be most genuine when she’s under the sway of her emotions. The other young woman, Jenny, is an "Elinor," who has a firm step and does not allow herself any flights of emotion or fancy, but who loves deeply, irrevocably, and silently—only asking to promote the real happiness of the man she loves even if he loves another.

The core of the novel is the exploration of each woman’s relationship to Captain Adam Deveril, a viscount and a wounded hero of the Peninsular War, who returns to England upon his father’s death to discover himself financially ruined. He now knows that he can never marry his first love, Julia. To marry for love would be to ruin himself, his prospective bride, and his youngest sister, and to lose forever the estate he calls home.

He “sacrifices” himself to wed plain Jenny because her father is a rich merchant willing to help Adam recover financially in exchange for elevating Jenny into highest society. Adam accepts the bargain with no expectation of ever loving his plain, plump, prosaic wife. But the plot keeps bringing Adam, Julia, and Jenny together in ways that let Adam see the difference between an unselfish love that only desires the other person’s happiness and a selfish love that desires one’s own emotional gratification.

The love story between Adam and Jenny unfolds exactly where all of Austen’s love stories unfold—not on a desert island or a pirate ship—but in the midst of family and friends. And that’s just where I like to put my lovers, too. Read on to hear about a giveaway.

My Austen-inspired romance, The Loner, takes the elements of Austen’s most romantic novel Persuasion, and translates them into a contemporary California setting. Will Sloan is my “Captain Wentworth,” a former nobody, now a new billionaire. He is back in L.A., land of palm-lined drives and fiery sunsets. His friends urge him to jump into the hot L.A. dating scene, but a chance encounter at a school reunion revives a powerful past love. He’s never forgotten Annie James, but blames her for turning down his youthful proposal. This time around, he swears he’ll do the walking out. Annie James is my “Anne Elliot.” Her sisters despair that Annie will ever find a husband, but this time around when Will sees Annie interacting with family and friends, he recognizes her spirit and the toughness under her sweet exterior and finds her irresistible.

I’d love to send a print copy of The Loner to one lucky commenter, so tell me about a favorite from your keeper shelf or a favorite Austen book of yours.

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Elite Elements: Cesium's Capture #Giveaway

Elite Elements
Book Three in the Elite Warriors Series

For most of their lives they’ve lived in the shadows, pulled from every nation and background, united by one common cause—an all-consuming hatred of Red Wolf. The unquenchable desire to rid the world of his very existence fuels them, drives them.
These men and women pulled the fallen Elite from the snow-covered wreckage of Operation Phoenix years ago. To some they’re called saviors. To others they’re called traitors.

As Red Wolf’s power grows, the end game they’ve sacrificed everything for may destroy them all. Or just maybe they’ll finally find the peace they’ve been hunting for.

Revenge is their salvation but is there enough humanity left inside them to save?

A new end. A new beginning. Elite Elements.


Satisfying Silicon by Virginia Nelson
Lady Dead may be number five on his hit list, but she trusts that Silicon will come for her. Save her or kill her... either way, it'll be a hot ride.

Cesium’s Capture by Sabrina York The mission is all that matters...until he meets her.

Vibranium’s Truth by Anna Alexander It’s not the size of the gun that makes a warrior, but the strength of her convictions.

Palladium’s Confession by Saranna DeWylde A defrocked priest and his benediction of death are no match for this BBW on a mission.

Francium's Chance by Rebecca Royce Just because he's on the right side of the fight doesn't mean she can trust him.

Asset: Arsenic by Heather Long Arsenic is playing a dangerous game, but one with hefty payout—Red Wolf’s head on a platter.

Kryptonite’s Oxygen by Jennifer Kacey To rid the world of the deadliest wolf a broken girl must trust her kryptonite.


Cesium’s Capture by Sabrina York

Jason “Coop” Cooper, AKA Cesium, is as cold as they come. Nothing matters except for the job—a lesson he’s learned through painful experience. But while on a mission in the gritty back alleys of Hong Kong to collect intel about one of Red Wolf’s criminal associates, Coop is stunned to meet a woman who reaches past his elaborately constructed walls. A woman who sparks a fire inside him. One that could burn him from the inside out.

What a pity she’s in cahoots with his enemy.

Natalia Goodinov Petrova is not all she seems. Oh, she’s beautiful and smart and uses her sexuality to get what she wants with no qualms whatsoever, but her sex-kitten mask hides her true identity as a hard-core Russian agent determined to root out the villain who killed her father…and wreak her revenge.

Coop and Natalia come together in a clash of wills that threatens to destroy both of them. Other than their stubborn determination to complete their missions, they have nothing in common.

Or do they?

Natalia Petrova fixed her features into some innocent, seductive mien and Cooper smiled and gestured toward the foyer.
God, men were so easy to manipulate.
Sometimes it revolted her.
All she needed to do was bat her lashes and infer she might possibly spread her legs for them and they melted.
She forced down a familiar irritation, an unwelcome desire that there could be something more for her than her life as it was.
Her life was fine. Wonderful. Perfect.
It would be even better when she finally achieved her goal.
She was so close.
She couldn’t allow this man to fuck it all up.
And he might.
The gorgeous bastard had been tailing her for days. He’d tried to be inconspicuous, but seriously, what woman with blood in her veins would not notice him? He was tall—seemed even taller here, in Hong Kong, where most men were in the five foot range. He was well over six. And his body…
She suppressed a shudder as he took her arm and led her across the elegant foyer of the hotel. His body was magnificent. Muscled and thick, bunching with energy and vigor. And then there was his face. Perfect features, beautiful blue eyes, long lashes and a noble nose.
She didn’t dare think of his lips. His lips on hers.
It was wrong to think of fucking him. Stupid, even.
She had a mission to complete—a critical mission that she needed to complete before Gregor figured out what she was really up to and dragged her back home with her tail between her legs. Fucking this man would only get in the way.
She glanced at him from beneath her lashes as they waited for the elevator. When his gaze met hers, when his beautiful lips kicked up into a small smile, she swallowed heavily.
Because, yeah. He made her drool.
No man had ever made her drool. No man had ever had such an effect on her.
That alone was ample reason to do her business and get out.
While Nat had never been afraid of any man, she had to admit, this one sent skirls of nervousness through her.
Or maybe not nervousness.
Maybe it was just lust.
It had been a while, after all.
The elevator door opened with a silent shush, and he set his hand to the small of her back and led her in. Funny how the contact burned, even through her blouse. Her nerves awoke and sang.
She told them to shut up.
As he pressed the button for his floor, her attention fixated on his thumb. Thick and blunt. Manly. It was—
Nat gave herself a mental shake. For pity’s sake. It was a thumb. Nothing to obsess about. Nearly everyone had one.
He nodded to an elderly couple who joined them in the car and as the doors closed, the four of them faced forward, staring at nothing as the elevator moved. Nat remained motionless, but her mind was in a whirl…because that thumb, his thumb, had begun some kind of heinous torture against her back. Sweeping, swirling, stroking.
She had no idea why her knees went weak.
No idea why her body liquefied.
It was only a thumb.
She was stronger than this. She always had been. No mere man had ever had any power over her. She’d gone to great lengths to make certain of it.
That was why this situation was so annoying…and scintillating.
She’d always wondered what it would be like to find a man who could move her. She’d always wondered what it would be like to fuck him.
Damn it. There was that whispered voice again. That resonating ache.
She attempted to tamp it down. Reminded herself of her mission. Of why she needed to be strong, resolute, cold…
The elevator stopped and the elderly couple stepped off with polite nods. Nat forced a smile at them, redoubling her efforts to maintain her professional fa├žade. She needed information from this man and that was all.
What a pity then, that as soon as the doors closed, he whipped her into his arms, pulled her hard against him, and kissed her.
It was a blazing kiss, one that wiped her mind clean and sent her senses into a spiral.
God, had she thought his lips were perfect? They were beyond that.
He was beyond that.
She was immediately suffused with his scent, his taste, the feel of his hard, pulsing body. His arms around her, like steel bands, held her in place as he consumed her with a wild passion that only stoked hers.
He moved in, closer, closer, until he had backed her up against the mirrored wall. His broad hand skimmed over her hip, up and up, closing on her breast.
A sharp thrill cut through her as his palm scored her nipple and she gasped through the kiss.
His chuckle rumbled between them.
She had little opportunity to process her irritation when his hot mouth moved from her lips to the crook of her neck. The scruff of his beard scraped like a razor over her raw nerves, sending spirals of delirium along her spine. She tried desperately to be annoyed. She didn’t like this sense of…submission to her lust. She was used to being the one in charge, the one taking the lead. The one who didn’t care. Somehow, he made her care.
But she lacked the resolve to push away.
So to punish him, she raked his nape with her nails. It was a vicious swipe.
He liked it.
In fact, it roused him to greater passion.
He reared back and stared at her. His muscles went taut, his expression intense. His eyes burned.
“You are making me crazy,” he growled.
She found a little satisfaction in the fact that he seemed to be provoked by his lack of aplomb as well. Surely it was wrong to taunt him more.
She rubbed her belly against his hard cock nonetheless.
His nostrils flared, like those of a wild beast scenting its mate, but he merely chuckled again. “If you keep that up, I’m going to fuck you right here.”
She quirked a brow. “In the elevator? How bourgeois.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” He took her mouth again in a crazed frenzy, eating at her, devouring her, stoking the fire he’d built in her belly and making her as crazy as he. Indeed, she didn’t care where they were. Indeed, she would happily fuck him here—
It was irritating that the door slid open just then. Irritating because they had to part, had to step into the hallway, had to function like humans.
It took most of her reserves to put one foot before the other, even though he had a hold on her arm and guided her. Her vision blurred. Her body trembled. She could feel the arousal welling between her legs. She shook from wanting him.
The logical, well-trained part of her brain told her she should get him somewhere private—and his room was private—and begin her interrogation, discover why he was following her. Discover if her cover had been blown.
Another part of her, a far more feral and visceral part, saw an opportunity to slake the hunger that had been clawing at her from the first moment she laid eyes on him. To take what she wanted from this man and leave him panting for more.
Perhaps she could have both.
Hot sweaty sex, and the answers she needed…

AMAZON – https://goo.gl/M2qHyX
Amazon Print – Coming soon!
B&N – https://goo.gl/9BbvoB
KOBO – https://goo.gl/AKxh71
Smashwords - https://goo.gl/11yq7v
iBooks – https://goo.gl/T5TQo7


Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous romances. Her titles range from sweet & snarky to scorching romance in historical, contemporary and fantasy sub-genres. Represented by Nicole Rescinti at the Seymour Agency  Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests.

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Sunday, March 26, 2017

7 Brides for 7 SEALs? Another bride, another groom, another wedding for you to swoon!

Out March 31! 

On pre-order now at  Amazon      Nook

YOU WERE ALWAYS MINE stars a Navy SEAL and the lady who gives him her seat on the plane.

That's the first in my 7 BRIDES FOR 7 SEALs series. 
And yessss, those two are getting married and we're all invited to the wedding.
You won't want to miss it, especially because the Best Man and the Matron of Honor are about to set the whole place on fire!
Now in NO GETTING OVER YOU, we're saving a place in the pew and at the reception for you.
Here's a taste:
Viv LaClare is so over being the matron. The widow. She wants to laugh again, live again, maybe even dabble in a little affair…if she could just find the right guy.
Britt Ackerman is so over one-night stands—and women who party with a SEAL for the bragging rights. He wants a lady with guts, sass and more than a lick of sense…if he could find the right woman. 
So when he meets Viv at his teammate’s wedding, she hooks him at ‘hello.’ He’s convinced he wants all the nights she’ll give him. 
But if he can promise her all the tomorrows he’s got, can she risk her tender heart on a man who has the deadliest job in the world?
Want a nibble of this yummy guy...um...story?


When the doors opened on the fifth floor, Viv caught a glimpse of her reflection in the full length hall mirror. The shoulder-length red hair, the dark green eyes, the body she worked super hard to keep in shape. Didn’t this woman deserve to take what she wanted? Especially since the desire was mutual?
She extracted the card key from her purse and began her hunt for 510. Directional signs lead her around to the left and down the hall and she happily padded along on the thick carpet. The hotel was filled not only with Abby’s family but also with her professional associates and quite a few friends. Viv might not want that promotion but she wasn’t eager to have anyone see her go to her rendezvous. So she hurried along the hall and turned another corner—
Only to halt in her tracks.
Two doors down stood Tracy Banning with The Saint, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he held her against the wall. Their lips were locked in a frantic kiss, and Tracy’s legs were hooked around The Saint’s hips.
Viv shrank back around the corner silent as a mouse.
“You need to go,” Tracy whispered, her voice husky.
“You don’t do wedding hook ups, is that it?” he asked, disappointment in his tone.
“The odds of being happy about it tomorrow are not great.”
“We can reexamine that idea tomorrow night,” he said with a laugh. “Waiting makes it all better, don’t you know! And I’m a patient man.”
“Thanks, Santiago,” Tracy whispered. “You’re a good man.”
“That’s me!” he said. “Adios. Sleep well!”
Viv straightened and took a step around the corner. “Hi, there!”
Santiago threw her a little salute. “Hey there, Viv. Good night. See you tomorrow.”
“Right.” She breathed a sigh of relief.
Speeding up, she went to the end of the hall before she found 510.
She stood there a minute, smoothed her palm over her hip, knocked twice, then put the card in the slot and—
A wild screeching siren rent the air.
What the hell is that?
Her head shot up. She stared and looked around.
The door in front of her swung wide.
Her mouth fell open.
Britt stood there, bare chest, bare feet, bronze and beaming from ear-to-ear.
She heard yells. Doors opening.
The door in back of her disgorged people. People who said, “What is that?”
A woman yelled, “Oh, shit!” 
Another door opened and someone moaned, “A fire? At this hour of the night?”
“Darlin’, where are my briefs?”
“Is that a fire alarm?”
“Britt?” she beseeched him, jostled by four hotel guests rushing around the hall in pjs and shock.
He reached one long muscular arm out, grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. “Oh, honey!”
He pressed her to the wall and slammed the door shut. “I thought you weren’t coming. I was crazy.” 
His hands were in her hair, his body warm and hard, his lips sweet as they spoke on hers. “Thank god.”
“Britt,” she murmured, so enthralled by the little kisses he bestowed on her mouth and her throat that she could barely breathe, let alone think. “The place is on fire!”
“Tell me about it.” He was chuckling as his fingers took her evening bag from her and put it on the hall table.
She grinned, arching into his big warm hands as he molded her to him, breasts to chest, tummy to tummy, flames roaring. “But the hotel—”
“Forget the hotel, baby. I’m burning up. In a minute, you will be, too.”
She moaned as he found the side zipper to her dress and slid it down, tooth by agonizing tooth. “The place will burn down!”
“I know it will.” He brushed his hands inside the crepe and let it slither down her body.
The air-conditioned air made her shiver. But his adoring hands scorched her everywhere he touched. “They’ll find us in here.”
“I know they will.” He pulled her forward to step out of her cocktail dress that puddled on the carpet.
Laughing at the absurdities of life and luck and alarms, she tossed her hair and widened her eyes at him. “We’ll be burnt to a crisp.”
He continued backward to his sitting room. “Damn right.”
“You don’t care?”
“That some drunk fool tripped the alarm?”
She threw her head back to chuckle. “I really shouldn’t laugh.”
“Laugh, baby.” He sat down in a big easy chair and pulled her down with him, her legs bent at the knees to the cushion, her entire body open to him with only see-through French lace adorning her. He inhaled and lifted the wealth of her breasts, one in each reverent palm. His china blue eyes grew heavy-lidded and stormy. “Giggle. Scream. Do one. Do all. Do whatever comes naturally.”
She felt her nipples harden, her core pulse. She felt triumphant. Powerful. Where had that strong woman been for the past few years? “You like wild women?”
He bent to fasten his lips over one of her nipples. “I like you.”
Bucking, she tried to squeeze her thighs together. “You’re not going to stop?"
“Not all night long.”
On Pre-order now! Release date March 31!
    And be sure to get the first in the series, YOU WERE ALWAYS MINE, because we thought that Nick and Abby didn't have a ghost of a chance. Really? Not a ghost. (Yes, a ghost.)

AMAZON      NOOK      KOBO      iTunes

Saturday, March 25, 2017

Getting Crafty--Setting in the Novel by Suz deMello (#iamwriting #writingcraft #romanticsuspense)

Outstanding books are memorable for a variety of reasons. Perhaps in one it is the romance we find so compelling.  In another, the characters stay with us for a long time. 

But for many readers, the sense of "being there" is the aspect that draws them into the book and keeps them there despite distractions.  I call this a sense of place, or setting.

Its importance can't be underestimated.  Some genres, such as certain subgenres of romance, are based totally on a unique or special setting, such as the English Regency or American West.  Some readers will purchase nothing but books placed in their favorite setting. People will read books in their favorite setting--Middle Earth, Hogwarts--over and over again just because they want to again experience the feeling of being there.

While I was editing professionally, I sometimes came upon a submission in which it was impossible for me to know where the book was set because the author assumed way too much. In one, for example, I had to go to the author's website to discover where her werewolf/vampire series was set. 

Fortunately for any of my readers who like to feel deeply grounded in a book, I love to travel and then put my observations and experiences into my writing.

I set a couple of recent re-releases in the San Francisco Bay Area, where I lived for about five years and still visit frequently. Here are a couple of snippets from those books:

...she took the handset and walked to the window, hoping to see a street sign so she could tell her partner where she was. Unfortunately, the view four stories below showed only a small back garden, typical of homes in San Francisco. It was beautifully landscaped with Japanese maples and azaleas, which were in bloom. A small stone bench sat by a pond.

The above is from Phoenix and Dragon, a novel set in San Francisco, and the description of this courtyard is based on one I saw years ago, in the Marina District, I believe. 

And here's one from Spy Game, which takes place farther south. This clip describes Skyline Drive, which is off Highway 17 between San Jose and Santa Cruz, which I call Santa Laura in the book. It's best not to be too tethered to reality when writing. Otherwise one gets letters from irate readers stating that "I've been there and it's not like that!"

The wooded, two-lane road wound up a hill past a playground and a park. A swing set and a jungle gym were nearly invisible in the night, lit only by a few dim streetlamps. At the lane’s crest a row of mailboxes sat with a whimsical stuffed or carved animal perched atop each. A wooden bird with brightly painted, outstretched wings roosted on the box marked #2730...a little cottage that screamed “hippie heaven.”

I would never have dreamed up the mailboxes with the sculptures, so visiting the area while I was writing was a really good idea. Touches like those add a sense of reality to a book, which is really an imaginary construct even if it's a contemporary set in a recognizable place.

It's hard to make it as an author these days, and every aspect of the writer's craft must be well-honed and perfect, including setting in the novel.

Friday, March 24, 2017

How can he seduce an alien? For Women Only @kayelleallen #scifi #romance

When Fawni Ruh, a Kin ambassador, visits the capitol planet of the empire, she meets security expert Khyff Antonello, a human. A death in her family forces Fawni to return home, but she can't bear to part with Khyff, and takes him along. Her family demands she cast out the human, or abdicate her future rule.
Fawni searches for an alternative and stumbles upon Khyff’s secret. The cover-up, if exposed, will betray her world to its enemies, and bare her family to open shame. Her duty is clear. Yet how can she leave Khyff to suffer in the darkness that binds his heart?
His secret truth is her people's darkest lie.

Excerpt from For Women Only

In this scene from For Women Only, Khyff awakens beside Mehfawni, the feline-humanoid Kin ambassador to the Tarthian Empire. He'd been ordered to seduce her, part of a complicated ploy by the Empress, who wants to remove Mehfawni from the Kin line of succession. It took no time on Khyff's part. The moment Mehfawni saw the gorgeous blond and blue-eyed human, she pursued him.

    Khyff drifted off to sleep, more comfortable than he could remember being in years and woke sometime later to the feel of a hand sliding down his abs and across his belly. He opened his eyes.
    When she noticed he was watching her, mild surprise widened Mehfawni's big golden eyes with their jade green flecks. "Oh, you're awake."
    "I hope I didn't wake you. You looked..." She sighed. "I wanted to touch you. You're so smooth."
    "It's okay. You can touch me any time you like." He stretched. It felt good to be rested. No light showed at the windows. "What time is it?"
    She shrugged. "I pay no attention to such things. Local time. Tradestandard time. Time zones. Time to hold council. Time to sleep." She hooked her claws into the air, a picture of frustration. "My staff open doors and pour wine and feed me. They lay out my clothes and draw my bath. All the rest of my life is work." She dragged the tips of her claws down his body.
    Khyff's skin jumped, still hypersensitive after their riotous lovemaking.
    "This--" she stroked his belly "--is outside time. This is my time. I will not look at clocks while I'm with you."
    Warmth swept over him that had nothing to do with sex. He turned the feeling over in his mind, unsure what to make of it, and held out his arms.
    She moved into his embrace, body flush against his at leg and groin, skin pressed against his. She lay half atop him, leaning a bit to one side, propped on one elbow.
    "Are you hungry, Khyff?"
    He hadn't noticed until she asked. "Starving. I have plenty of food in the kitchen. What would you like?"
    "Besides you?"
    "You can have me, too."
    She tapped his nose and sat up. "I want to take you out to dinner. In Tarth City, surely there is always food ready somewhere."
    "I know plenty of places." They had told him to prepare to be spoiled. Kin females were accustomed to being in charge. Khyff hadn't mentioned he was used to women paying his way. They liked to flaunt him to their friends and display him like a new charm on their wrist bracelets. Look what I bought.
    "Somewhere quiet." Mehfawni folded her legs, elbows on her knees. "I don't wish others to gawk at you when you're with me."
    Again, the unexpected.
    She gave a slight sniff. "Gawk is not the word? I know Etymis from classes."
    "Gawk is correct. You speak Etymis flawlessly. Hardly an accent at all."
    "I don't say b's right."
    "Bees? Buzzing bees?"
    She giggled. "Letter b's. We have no B in Felis."
    "You say them fine."
    "Not like humans."
    "Say something b-ish."
    "B-ish?" She wiggled her nose as if sniffing. "This is a word?"
    "Sure it is. I made it up."
    Mehfawni laughed.
    Khyff absorbed the sound as if it were water on the dry sponge of his soul. It filled him with joy until he thought he'd burst. Having her there beside him, laughing, enjoying time with him...he could scarcely take it in.
    "B-ish. Hmm." She tapped a claw againster her full lower lip. "Bed. Beautiful. Boy. Beautiful bad boy." Her hot gaze raked down him. "Beautiful bad boy in bed."
Genre science fiction romance, scifi romance, space opera, military science fiction
Author Kayelle Allen
Book heat level (based on movie ratings): PG13
Publisher Romance Lives Forever Books https://bit.ly/bro-womenprint-kl
This book is free on Kindle Unlimited
Amazon http://amzn.to/1f7Ge0P
Amazon (print) http://amzn.to/2eFKee5
CreateSpace (Print) http://bit.ly/bro-women-csp
The prequel for this book is At the Mercy of Her Pleasure.

What Reviewers Say

"Kayelle Allen takes us deep into a world created by her incredible imagination with For Woman Only."
"...a rich story, full of interesting characters with deep and complex histories..."
"Ms Allen manages to use an alien culture to show the ridiculousness of sexist cultures."
"...at once engrossed in and horrified by Khyff's painful path to emancipation."
"The angst-filled hero will break your heart. The ending will heal it."
Kayelle Allen is a best selling American author. Her unstoppable heroes and heroines include contemporary every day folk, role-playing immortal gamers, futuristic covert agents, and warriors who purr.

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Steampunk Romance

Sometimes I'm asked the question, What-is-Steampunk? The best short answer is Victorian Sci-fi, I also like it described as Historical/Sci-fi. There is Steampunk literature but it doesn’t stop there, it includes: 
  • ART 

From a local art gallery

Time Machine at Dickens On the Strand

Abney Park (Steampunk band)

From a local Steampunk picnic

Steampunk took off from the fiction genre and rose to a subculture. A very fun, interesting, productive, and creative subculture. One of the beautiful things about Steampunk is it has no limits. It’s what you want to make it. 
I wrote my Steampunk Romance under the pen name of Maeve Alpin but now I’m trying to republish them under my name, Cornelia Amiri, so all my books will be under one name. It’s going to take some time though.