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Monday, November 12, 2018

They Call Him Ghost... RELENTLESS - Erotic Contemporary - Brotherhood Protectors #TinaDonahueBooks #Relentless #EroticContemporary #BrotherhoodProtectors #ex-ArmySniper

My newest romance is on preorder!

Relentless is part of the Brotherhood Protector series. Ghost, my hero, is to-die-for. A strong, sexy man who'll do anything to protect the woman he loves.



Blurb:

They call him Ghost…
If anyone needs a hero, Nic does. Her grandfather died in a suspicious accident, she nearly lost the ranch to foreclosure, and now mysterious mutilations are killing her cattle. She suspects her supremacist neighbor is behind the crimes, but can’t prove it.
When Ghost arrives on her land, offering to get justice, she’s hard-pressed to refuse his help. He’s sexy as sin and a former Army Ranger, his talents as a sniper unequaled.
The way he looks at her unmatched.
Ghost can’t help himself. He’s never met a more determined woman, her courage and intelligence captivating him. As a Blackfoot, he’s always called Montana home. With Nic here, he’s not going anywhere.
Good thing as the attacks escalate.
Facing insurmountable odds to save her land, Nic and Ghost form a formidable defense, while also surrendering to passion neither can resist.





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Sunday, November 11, 2018

From Miss Havana with Love


From the pages of Oh, Heavens, Miss Havana!
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I tear open the envelope, but the heavy paper cuts my finger with a vengeance. I shake my hand with a snap and nearly scream a profanity, but catch myself. I haven’t forgotten The Brazilian’s warning: “Yo’ got to clean up yo’ act, Miss Havana, we don’ talk like that here! If yo’ don’ follow the rules, yo’ be highly disappointed with the outcome.” I can’t imagine what he means—like, would they really send me back to my former home where my daughter is in charge? Frankly, I think they wouldn’t like that outcome. My daughter and I could do a considerable amount of damage, and that would be especially true if Lucifer joined in. I could organize quite a comeback, especially if I could pry Lucifer’s lazy ass off his straight-backed chair.
What’s this, an invitation? It looks like a carefully folded doily. Do people really send shit like this anymore? I scan the invite as a trickle of blood from my finger runs raggedly down the doily, until I get to the last line. “RSVP, Regrets Only”. What the fuck?
What in my home is that about? Sure I have regrets, doesn’t everyone? I regret the two pounds I gained after high school—never lost those bastards. Regret getting pregnant on prom night, too, but I’m not sure I regret the abortion that followed. If there’s a party, how much shit would I have to list before I get a pass to the food and liquor? Crap! Parties, who needs them! I place the doily back into the envelope and put it in my pocket next to my new watch. It’s probably against some obscure rule to litter here, especially with The Brazilian sitting—. Whoa, where is that bastard? Damn I hate that.
After some time enjoying the sun, I head back along the path. I’m delighted to see the long table has been cleared of food; I hope dinner will even be more spectacular than breakfast and make a mental note, “Drop some food for the old broad in the wheelchair.”
Back in the barracks I’m faced with the same vexing problem—which one is my bed? I should have counted the number from the door. I pick one arbitrarily in the approximate area where I’m sure mine is located and am about to settle down when I notice a small book on the pillow two beds farther from the door. I could be a sign. I casually meander to it, and am certain it’s for me when I read the title: “The Twelve Step Program”.
I sigh deeply, sit on the bed and scan the book. It’s not much to look at or read, but it makes a great bed marker. There’s not a soul in sight, even the unpleasant Mrs. McBrady is missing, so I pull the invitation from my pocket to look it over again before crumpling it and tossing it on the floor. Lying down with my feet on the scratchy woolen blanket doesn’t help. I’m still fuming that I must dredge up irrelevant regrets just to get a drink.
Before I can drift off, however, The Brazilian appears. My cheery guide always seems high on caffeine, and this time is no different. He picks up the invitation and smoothes it out between his hands.  “Why, Miss Havana, yo’ needs to deal with yo’ invite. The party just won’t be the same without yo’. I mean, this year, yo’ be the guest of honor!”
I sit up and immediately smooth the blanket to avoiding responding, but must admit it’s been a long damn time since I’ve been the center of attention. “They will have liquor, won’t they?”
The Brazilian seems taken back, but by now I’m absolutely certain he’s just acting. There’s nothing I can do that should surprise him. After all, he has my file, not to mention that his efforts to train me have fallen flat. He responds anyway. “Oh, Miss Havana, there be much better than liquor there. Yo’ just need to come. Yo’ll see. Yo’ don’t need to list all those regrets, either. Everyone there already knows yo’ soul be burdened with them.”
Oh, shit. Just what I need, another full exposure encounter group. Don’t they ever do anything here just for the fun of it? I sign deeply. “Okay, okay, I’ll go, but only if you tell me why they call you The Brazilian.”
He cocks his head and shakes his finger slowly. “Oh, that’s been eatin’ at yo’ for some time, ain’t it. Okay, since it’s nearly Christmas, I’ll tell yo’, like a early Christmas gift, but the secret gots to stay just between the two of us.”
He pauses, probably waiting for my agreement. I scoot to the edge of the bed, look him directly in the eyes and respond flatly, “Fine.”
“Okay, then. Yo’ knows me to be a fastidious fellow, a true meterosexual, so it shouldn’t surprise you that I got my name because I always waxed my privates when I existed below. My bottom was always smooth as a baby’s!”
He radiates pride as I slap my forehead. TMI! The image disgusts me. “Oh, crap, sorry I asked.”
He grins. “Sometimes it’s best to not know all the details, Miss Havana. Like dis here party. Yo’ just needs to come, open yo’self up to it, and not fret about the details. Yo’ needs to trust me. I is yo’ guide. I do yo’ no harm.”
--------------------------------------------------------------

What bullshit. It turned out to be an intervention! And they didn’t have booze. Is anything ever what it seems?

Yours in Spirit,
Miss Havana

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Thanks for reading,


James L. Hatch
       
P.S. Please check out my books from Solstice Publishing: The Substitute; Oh, Heavens, Miss Havana!; The Training Bra; The Trophy Wife; Ordinary People; Extraordinary Lives; and Aftermath Horizon.

Saturday, November 10, 2018

Innocent and Sweet by @MeganSlayer #cockyread #roosters #changelingpress #newadult #hotread #meganslayer


This cocky man is ready to his job, but there are a few snags. Anissa isn't a wallflower. She's dying to have him in her bed. Will the consummate professional give into his carnal desires or will he stay the cocky bastard? 


Innocent and Sweet by Megan Slayer 

Roosters, Book 1
Changeling Press
Short Story
M/F, New Adult

Anissa Dunn wants one man -- Kameron. He’s got looks, brains and a boatload of attitude… and all that muscle. A girl can only take so much, and he's her heart's desire. She’s not afraid to give as good as she gets and she wants him to be her teacher in all things carnal.

There's only one catch -- he's her bodyguard and the rules state she can't date the staff.

But rules are meant to be broken…


EXCERPT:
Copyright ©2018 Megan Slayer
I will make him notice me. Anissa adjusted her dress. The cherry-red halter frock hung on her thin frame. So much for the correct fit. She sighed. No matter what she did, she couldn't put on weight. She debated what to add to improve her figure. If she wore the leather jacket, she'd appear edgy. The clunky boots helped increase her height, so she was fine there. But her bust... drat. She peered down at her chest. A wave of nausea hit her as she thought about her dating past. Guys didn't want to date a woman with a flat chest -- or so they'd told her.

She spied the gel bra cups she'd bought during her last trip to the fabric store. If she had boobs, maybe the guy of her dreams would finally notice her. He had to.

Anissa stuffed the chilly padding beneath the cups of her dress. Her boobs looked huge. Instead of the burst of confidence she'd expected, she hated her reflection in the mirror. The additions didn't fit her frame. But she had a date and no choice but to do her best to entice him. If fake boobs worked, then fine. She'd take her chances.

She donned the jacket, then grabbed her purse and hurried downstairs.

Kam stood in the foyer. He wore the same battered leather jacket, faded jeans and dark sunglasses as he always did. He touched his earpiece. "In position."

Her heart fluttered. Kameron Stone personified sex in human form. Her nipples ached, and she pressed her knees together. She'd never been with a man and wanted Kam to be her first. If she had her way, he'd be her only.

Would he fuck her?

Better yet, would he love her the way she loved him?

"I have the package," Kam said. "Preparing to leave."

She frowned. The package. She didn't have the honor of being referred to by her name. Gaining his attention wasn't going to be easy. "I'm ready."

Kam nodded. "This way, Ms. Dunn."

"Anissa." He'd used her last name. Dang it. She'd pleaded with him so many times to call her by her first name. Ms. Dunn was her mother. She was just Anissa.

"Ms. Dunn." Kam escorted her to the front porch, then down the steps. He opened the passenger door of the limo. "After you."

"Thanks." She couldn't leave the house without her trusty bodyguard, Kam. She settled on the seat and folded her hands on her lap. Kam would do anything to protect her, and she trusted him, but she was twenty-one and her father needed to put some faith in her. He'd sheltered her from everything. She didn't resent him for trying -- when she turned twenty-five, she'd come into a hefty sum of cash via the trust her mother had left her, but still. She'd gone to an all-girls college, a private all-girls high school and never spent more than a few hours on her own. She crossed her legs, and her skirt rode high on her leg. Did Kam notice? Did he care?

She swept her gaze over him as he sat beside her. Strong and silent. He wore his clothes like a second skin, could eviscerate anyone who tried to get too close, but Kam said so little. Half the time she had no idea if he listened to her. Knowing him, he tuned her out.

"Kam?" She shifted in her seat to face him. Her skirt rode higher. He didn't pay her any attention, which rankled her. "Kameron."

"Ms. Dunn." He seemed to stare straight ahead.

She whipped out her phone. She couldn't go through with the date. Not now. She sent a text to the driver, requesting he stay in the driveway. She'd sent the itinerary to the security team but saw no point in leaving the house. Kam wasn't paying attention to her -- not in the way she wanted. He didn't seem to care.

She sighed. According to the magazines she'd bought, her college roommate and the dirty movies she'd watched in the middle of the night, she had to be aggressive and demand what she wanted. Sure... she could be aggressive. She could demand his attention. But she wasn't sure how.

Anissa switched seats to face Kam. The car rolled to a stop, most likely in front of the house. She parted her legs and leaned back. "Kam."

If he looked at her, she couldn't tell.

"Ms. Dunn?" Kam tensed, and the muscle in his jaw twitched. "Are you okay?"

Nope. He hadn't noticed her lousy attempts to entice him.

"I'm fine," she mumbled. What a liar..."I'd like to talk to you."


Friday, November 9, 2018

New from Maggie Walsh and co-author Cree Storm
"Mating Song"
Eternal Flames-14 Crystal
BLURB: 
Music had always soothed Deja and helped him through troubling times. So when he meets his mate, Shadow, and sees how his close proximity is hurting him, Deja takes a job he had only dreamed could be possible.
Shadow should be thrilled that his mate has gone off to live in Maddox, but yearns to claim what fate has brought into his life. However, living as long as he has, seeing and experiencing all the ugly life has to offer, he knows he is no good for the sexy man. When it’s opening night and Deja is attacked, things change. 
Can Shadow keep his mate at arm’s length, unclaimed, and safe from those that would be out to hurt him?

EXCERPT:

 Shadow walked into the house, praying he wouldn’t come across Deja. His mate had been living under the same roof as him for over a month now and it was driving Shadow insane with need. Fighting his panther day after day was getting harder and Shadow honestly didn’t know if he could continue his fight to not claim his mate.
Deja seemed to be everywhere and Shadow’s constant hard on was testament to it. Fuck, he had jacked off with visions of the man since the day he heard Deja singing to his brother in the hospital. However, nothing compared to the other day when he had been in a meeting with Suneth, Wade, and the other guys. Thinking about it, Shadow couldn’t remember hearing the man singing since then.
Fuck, they had been sitting and planning on what to do about the Senator when Deja’s sweet voice had caught all of them off guard. They had all gotten up and left the conference room only to see his little mate in his own world, dusting, singing, and dancing. The second Deja did that split, Shadow thought he would explode in his pants right then and there. Images of his mate’s flexibility and how many ways he could position the gorgeous creature while he fucked him into the mattress had assailed him all at once.
Not wanting to bring attention to his mate that he was home, Shadow quietly made his way upstairs. Shadow was known for his stealth ways. Being a soldier most of his entire existence, Shadow had learned how to hide himself even in plain sight. If Shadow didn’t want to be seen…he wasn’t. It worked out well for him and his team when he was recruited to Wade’s Black Ops group. However, it seemed that his skills sucked when it came to Deja. The man always seemed to see him when no one else did. Just like right now. Turning Shadow could only stare at his mate as he stood at his bedroom door watching Shadow, knowing that yet again Shadow had been trying to avoid him.
“You don’t have to hide from me in your own home, Shadow. I know you want nothing to do with me right now and I have respected your wishes,” Deja softly said.
Shadow tilted his head to the side. “Yet, you still make sure I see you everywhere I look.”
“What would you have me do, Shadow? I live here. Am I supposed to lock myself in my room until I know you are nowhere to be seen?”
Yes! Damn it! Shadow knew his thoughts were ridiculous, but seeing his mate, smelling him all throughout his home and surrounding grounds kept his cock so hard that he was most likely ready to break the Guinness record for bouts of masturbation in a day.
“I’m sorry, Shadow. I am willing to do many things for you but locking myself away isn’t one of them,” Deja softly replied.
“Do what you will. I don’t care,” Shadow snapped making his way towards his room.
Shadow saw the dark circles under his mate’s beautiful silver eyes. If Shadow wasn’t mistaken the man had lost some weight and he had already been too thin. This was his fault and honestly, he had no clue how to fix it. He could not have a mate. His soul was too black…too tarnished…too repulsive to even think of tainting his mate’s purity.
Shadow had seen too much in all the wars he fought. He had lost too much from his original home, family, and so much more. Shadow knew that if he were to accept this gift that Kali herself had bestowed upon him it would do nothing but destroy the sweet man before him. He had far too much blood on his hands. Allowing Deja to go on with his life without someone like himself, was the best way for him, as Deja’s mate, to provide the happiness, health, and care to the man. It was what mates did for each other. They provided those things every day of their lives and this was Shadow’s way of taking care of his mate…even if no one else understood what he was doing.
Shadow was so engrossed in thought…that is the only reason he could think of, not to have been aware of someone rushing up from behind. One second he was walking to his room and the next someone was slamming into his back, wailing on his ass screaming and cussing.
“Lon! Get off him! Lon! Stop it dang it!” Deja shouted.
Shadow flipped the man from his back, raising his hand to knock the shit out of him when someone pulled Shadow off of Lon and slammed their fist into his face. “Don’t fucking touch my brother, you son of a bitch, or I will kill you.”
Casius went for him again, but Shadow had too much training to allow another sucker punch. Shadow launched his body at the dragon shifter plowing his fist into the man’s face hearing a satisfying crack. Then Lon jumped on his back shouting, “You fucking piece of shit! I should kill you for what you’re doing to my brother!”
Seconds later Six and Flyer were by his side, doing their best to stop the dragon shifters’ attack and then Suneth came out of nowhere, shouting, “Enough!”
All fighting stopped as they all turned to one very pissed off gargoyle. Turning, Shadow thought for sure he would see his mate’s distressed eyes, instead he saw nothing but burning anger. Well Shadow had wanted his mate to go away. From the look in the man’s eyes, he was so pissed off at Shadow that the man knew he was finally going to get his wish. However, Deja shocked the hell out of him when instead of ripping into him, he went for Casius and Lon, shoving them both. “What the fuck is your problem?”
Lon growled, “What the hell, Deja? That fucker denies you and you expect us to sit back and take it? Bullshit! Being gypsy’s is no reason to deny what fate has brought to someone and he damn well knows it!”
Casius snarled and looked at Shadow in disgust. “When Asbuth convinced us to stay in his home instead of ours at Donny’s or one of my other mates, he said no one gave a shit about who we are.”
“There is no prejudice in my Chimera,” Suneth stated firmly.
Vano snorted as he slowly made his way closer to his brothers using his walker. “Maybe not against dragons or phoenix, but it seems to me at least one of your men detest gypsy’s.”
Shadow snarled, “I have nothing against gypsy’s or any other being whether they be human or paranormal!”
“If that’s so then why do you refuse to claim Deja? He’s your mate and yet you run so fast and far your gonna hit a tree and hurt yourself,” Vano snapped.
“Stay out of my business! You know nothing!” Shadow snarled. He felt his panther begin to come to the surface and was doing his best to push him back.
“Vano, I’ve already explained to you and your brothers you can not interfere in a mating,” Suneth calmly stated.
“I am not interfering, Suneth. I am telling that fucker he’s an idiot! Deja is the sweetest most loving man I know and I’m not saying that just because he’s my brother. I’m saying it because he doesn’t deserve to be made to feel as if he is less than or not good enough,” Vano explained still giving Shadow an evil look.
Shadow snapped, “You don’t think I don’t know what kind of man your brother is? Well you and your brothers are wrong. I know he is pure of heart and it is because of that I do not claim what is rightfully mine. I refuse to taint his soul in any way, shape, or form. So back the fuck off!”
Casius nodded. “He isn’t sleeping.”
“Or eating,” Lon snarled.
“You are a prejudice prick! I’ve known men like you. You think because we are gypsy’s it gives you the right to treat us like shit! You can knock us around, treat us like we are nothing but dogs on a leash. Well fuck you!” Vano snarled with such anger and hate that Shadow almost missed the small flicker of painful remembrance and he would know that look. He saw it every time he looked in the mirror.
“Shut the fuck up all of you!” Deja shouted.
Shadow looked at his mate in surprise and although he had noticed his mate looked tired, it was the first time he realized just how much weight his mate had lost. Every part of Shadow wanted to go to the tiny man and force him to eat, sleep…take better care of himself. His panther paced within him just as unhappy by Deja’s brother’s declarations. Yet, Shadow knew he could do nothing for his mate.
Deja took a few breaths then looked at his brothers. “I love you all and I appreciate you trying to help, but you have to listen to Suneth. Stay out of this. Shadow might be my mate, but that is in term only. Now I may not understand all his reasons, but I respect his decision. You need to stop trying to force something that has nothing to do with you. Just let it alone.”
“Deja, we only want you to be happy. Fuck you’ve hardly sang a song in weeks. You know you can’t do that,” Vano snapped.
“I’ve been singing at work and I just sang the other day while cleaning. You were there, Vano. I’m fine,” Deja muttered.
“You’re not fine damn it and it’s this fuckers fault!” Casius snapped pointing at Shadow.
Shadow didn’t understand what the hell Vano meant about the singing, but he was getting sick of the attitude he continued to get from Deja’s brothers. “Do you think this has been easy for me? I would give anything to not see Deja every fucking place I look!”
Realizing what he just said, Shadow snapped his mouth shut but not before he heard Deja’s loud intake of breath.
Shadow hated the look of horror and hurt on the human’s face. He rushed around everyone and out the door. He needed to escape not just his mate, but himself as well. Not even taking the time to remove his clothing, Shadow shifted into his black panther and took off into the forest.

Author's note: This is the fourteenth book of the Eternal Flames series which will now be read at mixed with Eternal Flames Maddox series, you should read those series in order. The reading order can be found on our websites.......maggiewalshauthor.weebly.com and creestorm.weebly.com. 

For more from Maggie or to see what she has coming next, please visit her website at: www.maggiewalshauthor.weebly.com.

Thursday, November 8, 2018

Learn a Little More about Me from my Writing

It's been a crazy couple of weeks for me. I took on a new job at the evil day job. I'm trying to do Nanowrimo. And there was the election. No matter which side you were on that one, there was no denying it was emotional and a nail biter.

So instead of writing a big blog post this month, I thought I'd write a few items you might be able to learn from me...from my writing.

* I have a shoe fetish. A BIG one. I love shoes and they come up very often in my books. Some of the stories I've written have be inspired by a pair of shoes or by a character wearing that specific pair of heels. But they don't always come up as a good thing. Often heels are described as torture devices or pain creators, which I also agree with. I love heels, I think they are beautiful, but that doesn't mean they are always comfortable.

* I'm a vegetarian. If you pay close attention to my writing, my characters very rarely eat meat. It wasn't even something I noticed at first. It was a critique partner that brought up that my characters never eat meat. And they eat a lot--because I also have a food fetish. Its not necessarily a choice that I don't add steaks and chicken nuggets into my stories, I just doesn't enter into my mind to even add meat in. Because its not a part of my life.

* I have a cat. You don't have to research far to see I have a cat. You only have to go on my Instagram, twitter or facebook page to not only see I have a cat but how much of a center of my world she is. But you could also tell by my writing. Of all the books I've written, I have never had a hero or heroine with a dog for a pet. It is always a cat. These animals don't play a very prime role in my stories, which might also be a reason they are cats, but I'm sure its also because I'm at least in part writing my little crazy furbaby into all my stories.

* I love a crazy cocktail. I'm not a big drinker. I'm a one glass a night at most type of drinker. But if you have a crazy cocktail on your menu, I will order it. Bring on your purple passion fruit nip slip. And as a result I love to come up with crazy cocktails to offer, or inflict, onto my characters.

* I was raised in a rural area. You'll notice that very few of my books take place in a large city but tend more towards rural, and occasionally suburban areas. That's because that's where I was raised and where I feel more comfortable. I was raised in a suburban area of Vermont (which is not a very urban state, for most of my childhood my neighborhood was bordered by not one but two dairy farms). To me the country is where my heart is, and as a result its where love happens.

Well, that's a little more about me. I hope you enjoyed learning more about me and my writing. And feel free to tell me a little about yourself in the comments below.

Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Holiday Spirit by Harlie Williams

The tree is a bit much in early November but I'm already hearing about people decorating for Christmas.  We're barely in the month and the countdown has already begun.  Well, I'm here to share a few of my thoughts.

1.  Let's celebrate one holiday before we start decorating for the next.  Retailers aren't making that much more in sales than throwing it in our face in September.

2.  Please be kind to the people that have a hard time around the holidays.  Me, I'm one of those.  I only get excited for my son.  I don't enjoy the holidays anymore.  And no, it's not about the decorating too early, etc.  It is personal.

3.  Remember that not everyone puts up their decorations early.  Yes, I like seeing everyone's on FB but don't judge people because they haven't done theirs yet.    I don't decorate until the day AFTER Thanksgiving. 

4.  Also, it is the thought that counts, not the amount you spent on the gift.

I hope that everyone has a great holiday season this year.  Me, I will trudge along for the sake of our son like I always do. 

One last thing...my son's 8th-grade football team went undefeated this season.  Whew!  Glad that's over.  He He!  Yes, this momma can breathe again. 

Until next month.


Tuesday, November 6, 2018

Thirty Days of Gratitude #SNSD #reset_your_attitude

Thirty Days of Gratitude (or reset your attitude)


Each of us goes about our days focused on what's important...getting the kids ready for school, finishing up our daily chores, meeting our word count, and the myriad of other things on our lists. 

Very rarely do we pause to take a moment to thank those around us. I do say thank you quite a bit but it's usually in passing--thanking the waitress for the extra butter or thanking the person holding the door. 



When was the last time you sat down and really thought about all the things/people who are important to you?

November is the perfect time as the month culminates with the celebration of Thanksgiving. Sounds good, right? But where to begin? What do I do?


Each of us can be thankful in many different ways. We can write a list, take some time to reach out to others, post it publicly on social media or even send a small note. The trick is to make it your own, something you do as easily as breathing. 

When we take a moment for being grateful, we appreciate our own place in the world around us. What we have is enough. We see the blessings in our lives and can see more clearly what is important. 


If you are looking for a box set about a family who understands the meaning of family, Home is Where the Heart Is--will have you laughing and crying. 

Five Wilder Sisters left Amherst, Ohio trying to escape their small town lives. Slowly, each returns and finds out that love is right around the corner.


Excerpt:

The fire was quickly put out. When the screeching of the alarm stopped, one of the firemen came over to talk with me. As he pulled off his helmet, I noticed his familiar face. It was T.J.
Smiling at the soot on his cheek, I said, “Thank you, T.J. Is everything okay in the house now?” I wanted to run my hand over his face and brush the smudge off. Just being around him made my knees weak. You would think after sixteen years I would be over him. Maybe my mind knows, but my body doesn’t yet, I thought sarcastically.

“Syn, were you trying to cook again?” His eyes sparkled, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter. “The fire is out. It was mainly contained in the oven. It appears that someone was trying to dry their laundry in there. There was minor smoke damage to the kitchen and living room areas, but I think that if you open the windows and air the place out, it should be okay in a couple hours.”

I felt safer knowing someone I knew personally was here checking things over, but wished it had been someone who hadn’t broken my heart. “Thanks again, T.J. It’s my dad, he has Alzheimer’s, and isn’t himself these days. He must have thought he was being helpful. First, I heard the vacuum going. Then, the fire alarm goes off. I can’t believe he put his laundry in the oven!”

“I’m sorry about your dad. He was always such a big, scary guy. Remember that time I came over to see you in high school and he wanted to show me his shotgun collection?”
~*~

Thank you for stopping by today and I hope you have a wonderfully grateful November... until next month!


xoxo
Melissa
www.melissakeir.com

Monday, November 5, 2018

A Matter of Taste


I keep running across interesting quotes that make me think. I suppose that’s the idea behind them, to get your brain working and provoke meaningful conversation. Our local newspaper publishes these under the title Thought for Today. Here’s a recent one, credited to Dame Edith Sitwell, English poet (1887-1964).

“Good taste is the worst vice ever invented.”

 I read this in the morning and was distracted for the rest of the day, because I wasn’t sure how to take it. What did Dame Edith mean? I always thought good taste was a preferred quality in a person. It’s certainly better than bad taste, which we seem to be experiencing in abundance these days. For an example of what I’m talking about, think POTUS and Twitter.

 A weekly column I follow touched on a subject I’ve blogged about before. The columnist had seen the newest reboot of “A Star is Born,” and penned an open letter to Hollywood screenwriters, suggesting that they could effectively tell a love story without dropping so many “F” bombs. I haven’t seen the movie yet, but I could relate to what he said. I’ve made the same observation about literary works, and I’ve never been a fan of radio Shock Jocks or some stand-up comics for the same reason.

Is peppering your daily discourse with four-letter words an example of bad taste? I was raised to think it is. So is telling dirty jokes in mixed company, unless you’re with friends who won’t be offended. During my most recent job as a newspaper editor, the publisher felt it was his daily duty to berate the office staff, using every variation of the “F” word imaginable. He even came up with some new uses for it. When my birthday rolled around, it was the first time I had ever gotten “Happy f****** Birthday!” as a greeting. I hate to think how he’d mangle Merry Christmas.

 To be clear, I’m no prude. I know most of the bad words, but I exercise caution when I use them. The same with off-color jokes. As the late Milton Berle once said, “I’ve got a million of ‘em.” I’m not sure if I know that many, but when I tell them, I check the crowd first.

 I’ve known people who were obsessed with showing what good taste they thought they had, whether they actually possessed it or not. This includes an ex-wife and a former sister-in-law. In every instance, it boiled down to how many material things they owned, and how they could let everyone know about it. Cars, clothes, jewelry, homes, vacations they couldn’t afford—it was all for show, something to make up for a basic insecurity. It was a spotlight they shone on themselves, a sort of “Hey, look at me! Like the flashy bracelet I’m wearing? Want to know how much it cost?” 

 You know, I think I’ve figured out what Dame Edith meant by that quote. Perhaps if you’re fabricating good taste to cover up your inherent bad taste, it really is the worst vice ever invented. 

 Your thoughts?



* * *

 Tim Smith is an award-winning, bestselling author of romantic mystery/thrillers and contemporary erotic romance. His latest mystery “The Other Woman” (Vic Fallon Book Four) is available wherever excellent books are sold.     


Sunday, November 4, 2018

Masquerade: an action or appearance that is mere disguise or show



Book #3
Corporate Heat

Leave a comment for a chance to win a $10 Amazon GC

There are too many masks in place. Too many false fronts. Everyone seems to be playing a role, including the modeling agency, the marketing representatives, the gracious Caribbean host and the owners of the high-end spa. But what were they all hiding?

Everything is turning upside down. The owner of the marketing agency dies in a mysterious one-car crash. Girls are disappearing and so are large chunks of money.


When hot, hot forensic accountant john Martino is reunited with very sexy Lindsey Califaro, with whom he had a short but intense fling, the heat between them rises high enough to burn down the town. So does the emotion. Lindsey is afraid tot rust him again, and John is trying to correct the biggest mistake of his life. But first they have to find the answers to a puzzle that reaches international proportions.  

Excerpt:
The elevator car arrived and they stepped into it, the only occupants from the high dollar floor. He followed her in and as soon as the door closed he pressed the button to hold the elevator car in place.
“John, we can’t do this now. People will be looking for the elevator. And I think a warning sounds if it doesn’t move for a certain amount of time.”
“Then I’d better talk fast.” He leaned forward, caging her with his arms. “Any excuse I can give for not calling you all this time is going to sound lame. Business crowded my schedule, time got away from me, all of that is true. But that’s not the whole story.”
“Oh? Then what is?” 
“We need more time than five minutes for me to tell you. I was a first class jackass and I suffered for it. I’m not going to let that happen again. I’ve spent four years kicking myself for being such an asshole. When Taylor called, I pushed another job off on my partner so I could take this one. So I could see you.”
Lindsey stood there, scarcely able to breathe. Her heart was beating hard and her throat was so dry she could barely swallow.
“John.” She wet her lips. “I don’t think—“
“Don’t think. Listen. Like I said, I’m an asshole. I’ll be the first one to admit it. And any other names you want to add. When I left you four years ago I had every intention of calling you within the month. Hopping a plane to Miami or wherever you were by that time. Following up on what had started between us. Having a fun weekend.”
“A fun weekend,” she repeated.
“Because whatever it was, everything else aside, it was fucking good. Agreed?”
She just stared at him, unable to say a word.
“Okay. Don’t say anything. I don’t blame you. I got caught up in some international finance shit, used it as an excuse and time just kept passing. I’ve been single a long time, Lindsey. I told myself I wasn’t interested in anything more than a good time. I kept myself busy and after a while too much time had gone by. It suddenly hit me I’d tossed away what could be the best thing that ever happened to me. When Noah called and asked me to come here, told me who I’d be working with, I jumped at it. Saw a chance to make up for being such a jerk, even if I had to get down on my knees and beg you. Because that’s what I’m ready to do.” He blew out a breath. “Listen. You have no reason to believe anything I say after what I did. Or didn’t do. But I’m asking you for another chance, Lindsey. Begging you. Please. At least listen to what I have to say.”
While she was still trying to figure out how to answer him, his mouth descended on hers, his lips warm and smooth. He ran the tip of his tongue gently over her mouth, tracing the seam and urging her to open for him. Without thinking she did just that and he thrust his tongue inside.
And she went up in flames.





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Saturday, November 3, 2018

Tips for Writing a Thriller!


A couple of years ago, I decided to try my hand at writing a thriller, tentatively titled, The Induction Paradox. I have been reading numerous books on the subject in preparation and decided to share what I am learning with all of you! J

Delivering the Conventions of the Thriller Genre:

1. An inciting incident: A crime, a murder, a bank robbery has to pull us into the action and give the hero his need for action. (If it’s a horror thriller the value at stake is a fate worse than death.)

2. The crime must occur early on in the Story.

3.The crime must reveal a clue about the villain’s MacGuffin. Meaning, what is the object of desire for the villain? If the villain gets the MacGuffin he will win. Familiar MacGuffin’s are: (a) the codes to a nuclear warhead, (b) one thousand pounds of heroin, (c) microfilm. *The term comes from Alfred Hitchcock. The term means the antagonist’s literal object of desire.

4. There must be a brilliant/powerful master criminal and an equally brilliant/powerful investigator/detective/sleuth. But the balance of power is heavily in favor of the villain!

5. The villain must “make it personal” with regard to the protagonist. He may feel this way right from the beginning or come to it later, but he must want to kill/humiliate/destroy/damn the investigator. The crime must escalate and the hero become a victim. (If it’s in the horror genre of thrillers than the power can be supernatural. Think The Shinning.)

6. The story requires clues and red herrings in the telling. The protagonist follows leads, some that are blind alleys to misdirect him.

7. If your story is a crime story, it can progress from justice to unfairness to injustice to tyranny.  Your value must be driven to the limit. Heart pounding limit! It’s a universal quality. The hero must stop the villain or we are all doomed and no one wants to live in injustice and tyranny. *There can be a false ending, that there is still one more act to finally stop the villain. Just when you think it’s safe, BAM!



Wishing you all a great day!

Best regards,

January Bain/Storyteller

Books available from Amazon and Totally Bound Publishing

Friday, November 2, 2018

New Release - Because You Loved Me BLMorticia & Remmy Duchene #gayromance #interracial #multicultural #newrelease


Greetings Folks!

Last month I told you about my release, Push. Read more about it here. I had another release called Because You Loved Me, book one of the Again series. 

Check out the blurb, links and excerpt below. 

Because You Loved Me – Again Series Book One by BLMorticia and Remmy Duchene

Blurb: Hitoshi Ren has a pretty good life—a great education, friends he considers family, a crush on one of the world’s biggest crooners, and a secret he believes has died. But when that secret walks back into his life in the form of late-night phone calls, he has to put his life aside and hop on a plane to face his past demons.

To make matters worse—Rixton Corrigan seems quite determined on turning Hitoshi’s head. 

Rixton Corrigan has been on a nonstop ride and he wishes to get off. The exhaustion of touring the world in support of his latest album and his brother’s disapproval of his carefree lifestyle has taken its toll. Since he’s doing a video and a couple of shows in Japan, he decides it’s a good time to unwind and cut himself off from the western world. Time that’s best spent alone until he can get his head on straight. 

However, those plans are tested when Hitoshi Ren shows up at his hotel, looking sexy and irresistible. His brother tells him to stay away, but how can he when he’s always been attracted to Dustin’s best friend?



Excerpt

First meeting between Rix and Hitoshi

When the elevator finally stopped, the bellhop led him down a fancy corridor, to a set of double-wide doors with gold trimmings. His escort then bowed and headed off the way they’d come. Hitoshi arched a brow then knocked.
“Who is it?”
“Rixton? It’s Hitoshi.”
“Hey, what are you doing here? How did you even find me?” Rixton sounded agitated and under the weather.
Hitoshi frowned. “Look, I have things I could be doing. But, as usual, you’re irresponsible and leave other people worried about you. Can you open the door, so I can see you’re not bleeding to death? Your brother is worried about you.”
Clicking noises sounded, and Rixton poked his head out. “Sorry, man. I’ve been sick. I thought I was getting over whatever mess I’ve got. I guess the bug found me again with the long trip.”
“You think you can call Dustin back?”
“Sure. Why don’t you come in? Unless you’re scared to get my germs.” Rixton opened the door wider, walking away from Toshi. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll go grab my phone to put my older brother’s mind at ease.”
“Um—I don’t know if coming in is a good idea. I can’t afford to get sick right now.”
Rixton shifted back around to meet Toshi’s gaze. “Oh well. I thought you might want a drink or something. As a thanks for stopping by? If you wanna rush off, though, I suppose I can’t stop you.”
“That’s not it. My father’s immune system is compromised. Being around him with a cold is…well…bad.”
“Oh, okay. I get it. All right.” Rixton ambled back over and nodded. “Thanks for checking on me. I’ll give Dusty a call right now to tell him I am indeed okay. Maybe we can have a drink some other time. I’ll be in Tokyo for a while.”
Hitoshi turned but stopped. There was no way he was going to see his father. Otōsan would never agree to that visit. Deep down, he was running from the fact Rixton was pretty much naked and covered in tattoos.
 “Actually, I can stay for a while. Have you eaten?”
Rixton twisted his lips into a flirty grin. “No, I haven’t had much of an appetite. Why? Got some ideas?”
Hitoshi stepped by him into the apartment. He glanced around and frowned. “Do you have a kitchen?”
“Yeah, but it’s probably getting cobwebs. When I’ve had an appetite, I’ve ordered takeout.”
“Do you at least have food in there?”
“I really haven’t checked. I guess we can go find out.” Rixton closed the door and sauntered in the other direction.
For a moment, Hitoshi stopped to gather himself. The only reason Rixton was affecting him was because Hitoshi hadn’t been with anyone in a while. There were no other explanations.
Besides, Rixton was Dustin’s brother. Naked or not, Hitoshi wouldn’t poop where he ate. With a deep breath, he followed and entered a small kitchen. He took a look in the fridge to find it stocked. Without speaking, he sniffed at the sandwich meat. The ham was still edible. The other things, not so much.
 “You should throw those out.” He set them on the counter then wandered around until he found all the provisions to make a sandwich. “By the way, you should shower, Rixton. You’re kind of funky.”
Rixton snorted. “Yeah? I guess the old saying, you can’t usually smell your own funk is true. Or is it because I can’t smell anything through my nose?” Rixton exhaled. “All right, I’ll be back in ten minutes. Make yourself at home.” Rixton exited the kitchen.
It took a couple of minutes after Rixton left for Hitoshi to pull it together. He made a sandwich, sliced it in half, and even cut off the edges. He ensured it was pretty healthy—ham, lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, ground pepper and a couple of slices of jalapeno. He set it on a plate then found a bottle of orange juice. He poured some in a glass for Rixton, wishing he had something to calm his nerves. Vodka, tequila—absinthe.
Ugh.

BLMorticia entertains her readers with hot and smexy sex, humor, and lots of swear words. She attempts to incorporate metal music or the military in most of her works. Nothin’ sexier than metalheads or military servicemen and women! 
Links

Website – https://blmorticia.wordpress.com/

Metalrotica – https://metalrotica.wordpress.com/

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4436911.B_L_Morticia

Facebook Page – https://www.facebook.com/BLMorticia/

Facebook Profile – https://www.facebook.com/bl.morticia.16

Twitter – https://twitter.com/BLMorticia

Follow Me on BookBub – https://www.bookbub.com/profile/bl-morticia

* * * *

Remmy Duchene was born on the small island of Jamaica but now calls Canada home. When not working a day job, she can be found writing, hanging with family and/or friends, trying to find the latest inspiration or watching baseball . With an addiction to Asian Dramas and BTS, you can usually find Korean Hip Hop and Pop on her playlists as well as anything that's probably too naughty to be listened to without headphones.



IG: @manluvlikeaboss