Wednesday, February 28, 2018

HOT NEW RELEASE! What a Highlander's Got to Do by Sabrina York

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What a Highlander's Got to Do
Coming March 6th from Sabrina York and St. Martin's Press

Isobel Dounreay Lochlannach is a fierce and independent Scots lass. She has no intention to marry—to submit to a man—especially not an Englishman.

But when she meets a devilish stable lad on the way to London, she can’t help but sneak a kiss with the handsome stranger, sure to never see him again.

Nick Wyeth is not a stable lad. He’s Viscount Stirling, and heir to one of the most powerful dukes in the realm. If their indiscretion is discovered, Isobel will be forced to marry him, to succumb to a fate she has always spurned. Nick wants nothing but to call this wild Scottish lass his own, and is determined to show her how an English Viscount can make her swoon, and be his forever in What a Highlander’s Got To Do by New York Times bestselling author Sabrina York.


“Milady . . . are you s-sure?” the groom sputtered, even as Isobel launched herself into the saddle. He was a sweet boy, only slightly spotted, and she’d found him delightfully manageable.
She smiled down at him in a manner that caused his Adam’s apple to bobble precariously. “I’m verra sure,” she said. “I can handle him. I promise.”
“But the mare is much gentler,” he said with a hint of panic in his voice.
“I’m certain she is,” Isobel responded with a wink. And then she set her heels to the stallion’s sides and they launched from the stable yard.
She leaned over his neck, encouraging him on. “Och, you want this, don’t you, boy?” she whispered into his ear, and he nickered his delight. “Faster then. Faster. Let’s fly!”
And oh. They did. And it was glorious.
The ride, of course, but also leaving those horrible women behind.
Newcastle lacked the exhilarating rocky terrain of the Highlands, but in turn, it had long languid country roads that curved gently through apple orchards, along golden fields, and through fallow land spotted with bright-yellow flowers. There was a babbling brook to her right and the broad blue line of the horizon before her. She had, in that moment, the flight of fancy that she could ride forever.
The air was cool and clear, with a hint of lingering loam. And the sun, when she hit it in gentle splashes wandering through the leaves, was a kiss of warmth. They made their own breeze, she and Lord Willouby’s stallion. It caressed her face and tangled in her hair and it was magnificent.
Much better than tea with the local ladies.
It was, in fact, perfection.
Until a thundering sound disrupted her peace.
Hoofbeats from behind, intruding on the splendid rhythm she and the stallion had created.
She glanced over her shoulder and frowned. Another stallion pounded after them, with a dark-haired stranger urging him on. She’d heard about highwaymen in these parts, veterans from the war and such, who had turned to crime. And while she’d thought the prospect of such a thing wildly romantic when reading it in a novel, she did not, in truth, care to be robbed or manhandled by such a man.
She tapped her mount’s side with her heels and urged him to go faster, even as a thrill of excitement sizzled through her. She was certain she could outride her pursuer, but how delicious would it be to confront an actual highwayman and have a story to tell Catriona?
Not that the two of them tried to outdo each other in their tales, but they did.
Isobel caught her breath and focused on the road ahead. It curved out of sight behind a large hill. Not knowing the terrain, she knew she had to slow, lest she injure her horse, and that was her downfall.
He caught her then, as she rounded the curve and, to her shock and dismay, wrapped a strong arm around her waist and lifted her bodily from her saddle and onto his lap.
She had one stunning impression of hard hot man.
He was slick with sweat from the mad ride, as was she, but on his skin, it rose in a thick musk that teased her nostrils and made her belly lurch.
Surely it was not an attractive scent.
She refused to believe this to be so.
At the same time, she screeched her outrage and wiggled to be free, which had a disturbing result.
He tightened his hold on her.
Dear God, he was strong, this beastly highwayman.
“Hold still,” he snapped. “You’ll fall.”
Of course she wanted to fall. She wanted to hit the ground before he did so she had time to retrieve her blade from the scabbard on her thigh before he caught her again.
What a pity he didn’t let her fall. He held her even tighter—she could barely breathe—and pulled on the reins to slow his mount.
Before she had time to react, he’d slipped off and was helping her down.
Helping her down.
No one had ever helped her down. She’d never allowed it.
The man was, in a word, infuriating.
Once her feet hit the ground she elbowed him in the stomach and whirled away. She glared at him, though he was unaware of this, doubled over and wheezing as he was. This gave her time to free her blade and point it in his general direction, so when he recovered himself, when he stood and stared at her, it was, indeed, a fearsome sight he saw.
She had no earthly idea why he laughed.
No earthly idea why her first glimpse of him—this bandit who had just impugned her person—made her heart stop.
Oh, he was handsome, for sure, with dark eyes and rampant black curls. There was a birthmark just above his lip that gave him a rakish air, and the hint of a scar bisected his left eyebrow. But his smile was white and broad and caused an irksome raft of dimples to erupt on his cheek.
He wore the stained, frayed clothes of a workingman, with boots caked in mud.
And good lord, he was tall. Tall and muscled and exquisitely formed.
She wasn’t sure which of his perfections annoyed her more.
And then he spoke, and she knew for certain. It was his voice, a mellifluous tenor, crisp with British superiority and the hint of a laugh.
She abhorred being laughed at.
“Well,” he said, nodding at her knife—which, in retrospect, seemed far too small. “Aren’t you the fierce one?”
It took a moment to stifle her growl. No doubt it would give him even more to mock. “What do you expect? You chased me. Grabbed me from behind. Manhandled me.”
His eyes widened and he stared at her for a moment, then his grin widened. “You’re a Scot.” Not a question.
“You’re bluidy right I am, so don’t try anything. You’ll not be the first man I’ve skewered.”
A laugh. “I don’t doubt it for a moment.” He continued studying her, though, in a way that made her skin prickle.
“What?” she said, breaking the silence against her will.
He shrugged, some lazy careless gesture that made her want to smack his supercilious face. “I just thought all Scottish lasses had red hair, is all.”
“Did you now?” Did he want to see red? Well, it danced before her eyes.
He must have realized his comment incensed her, because he laughed again. “Doona skewer me, lass,” he said in a perfect brogue. For some reason, that made her even angrier.
“Why no’? Are you no’ a highwayman, come to rob me?”
“A highwayman?” His beautiful perfect brows lifted in mock surprise. He had the audacity to bow before her. “My lady, I’ve just saved your life.”
She gaped at him. She was aware she was gaping, like a landed cod, but could not manage to form words.
He chuckled and tucked two long fingers under her chin and gently closed it. Then he hooked her arm in his and led her farther along the track, where Lord Willouby’s stallion stood alongside the road ripping out tufts of grass. “There,” he said, waving at a stone bridge just beyond the hill, arching over the river.
Isobel yanked her arm away. “There, what?”
“Go look.”
He followed her as she made her way to the bridge and then stood next to her, rocking back on his heels, as she studied the structure. Or what remained of it.
The stone pilings were all in place, as were the abutments on either end, but as for the rest of it . . .
“The flood last month took out all the timbers,” he said in a far-too-smug tone.
She crossed her arms and studied the distance from one bank to the other. “No doubt we could have made the jump.”
He turned to stare at her for a long moment, and then he laughed again.
She was becoming quite tired of his laugh, and at the same time craving it. That was probably why—though she would deny it until the day she died—her lips quirked. Just a tad, but it was enough encouragement for him, apparently.
“I believe you owe me,” he said with a wicked smile.
“I owe you?” She turned and tipped up her chin and stared into his eyes—really stared into them—for the first time. They were a lovely warm brown with flecks of gold, and they were amused. There was something else in there, a certain heat, that she preferred to ignore.
“I did save your life.”
“I believe I made it clear, I could have made the jump.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment, but your stallion?” He glanced at the steed, who was trying to lip an apple from the tree. “That is questionable.”
“Perhaps.” She sighed. “So what reward would you ask?”
“First, that you put away your blade.”
“First? How many rewards are you asking for?” Was she enjoying this . . . sparring? Why yes. She was.
He was terribly handsome, and not a highwayman after all. Probably, judging from his clothes, a stable lad. Or a farmer’s son.
He shrugged. “How much do you value your life?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Just as it is. I would like to ask for a kiss . . .” Her heart skipped. “But to be frank, I prefer not to kiss lasses with knives in their fists. You know, just in case.”
She straightened up and peered down her nose at him—no easy feat, as he was much taller than she. “I doona kiss just anyone.”
He splayed his hand over his heart. “I am gratified to hear it.”
“Certainly not . . .” She waved at his person. “Stable hands.”
He grinned. “Is that what I am then?”
She pointed to his boots. “Do tell me that is mud.”
“What else could it be?” His playful tone made clear it might well be something else one might find in a stable.
“And look at your hands.”
He did. She did, too. They were large, well made, with long fingers. There was mud there, too, beneath his fingernails. One would hope.
“I can wash them in the river, if you like.” Again, that charming smile.
She smiled back, but with a hint of restraint. It was an odd feeling cloaking her shoulders. Restraint was hardly her forte. “Please do.”
He nodded and she tried to ignore the curl that flopped onto his forehead as he turned and trotted down the bank.
With a sigh of regret, she took the reins of Lord Willouby’s stallion and mounted. Best be gone before he returned or she might be tempted to give him what he wanted.
She wanted it, too, which was stupid.
She was here for a few weeks while she waited for the various arms of her family to collect here, and then they would make the long trip down to London for a miserable Season. There was no time for a romance, and certainly not one with a farm boy. Not even one as handsome as he.
Though she had to admit, she was tempted.
She kicked the stallion into motion and began riding back the way she’d come.
What a pity.
She would have liked a kiss. Just one. She would have liked to know if he tasted as delicious as she imagined. She would have liked to have a story to tell Catriona, one that didn’t end with her plunging to her death into the River of the Broken Bridge.
She should have known he would follow.
She heard the hoofbeats behind her and urged her stallion on, bending low on his neck and whispering encouragement.
Her heart pounded.
She knew he would catch her.
He had before.
But still, she persevered.
She had no idea why she smiled. No idea why her soul sang.
No idea why, when he caught her, swooping her up into his arms and onto his lap, she laughed.
No idea why she smiled as he cupped her face with his still-damp hands and stared at her lips like a starving man.
No idea why, when his lips touched hers, fragrant and soft and oh-so-sweet, she sank into the kiss with all she had.
Or perhaps she did have an idea after all.

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Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Love is lovelier the second time around! Can an older hero find love? How about that older heroine? Yes, she is all of 38!

My author page for all links!
Ever wondered if you could find a romance with an older hero? I decided to give my 48-year-old father of three and robber baron a lady love (she is all of 38!!!) who initially gives him the cut direct! 

She has reasons.

He, however, shows persistence. And when he encounters her again at another family wedding—this time his niece Marianne's to her French duc de Remy—Killian Hanniford decides he will demand to know why she was so rude to him!

You'll want to know too.

And in the meantime, you'll come along with me as I show you Brighton, England in all its glory in the Victorian period. I'll show you how wealthy men had grand country houses built. I tell you about how much they cost! GASP!

And I'll will show you how they decorated the interiors! And yes, I give you a grand love affair for two people who never thought they'd love so well ever again!

Here, too, I show you my full print covers for SWEET SIREN and for Book 2 in the series, DARING WIDOW. I just adore the art...and there is a story to each panorama!
Come with me and learn what those stories are...and experience Brighton in the age of the "bathing machine" and Paris in the age of Belle Époque!

Monday, February 26, 2018

Today is NATIONAL TELL A FAIRY TALE DAY and I have a special guest, Felicity Brandon, who has recently released an adult (18+) fairy tale along the lines of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.  

Once upon a time, there was a rich, spoiled girl named 
Goldie Locks, and three viral men, 
Logan, Ethan and Heath.

Guess who’s been sleeping in their bed? 

If Goldie thinks one bear is her reckoning, 
how will she deal with three?

What if the fairy tale is real?

We all remember the story of Goldilocks, the young woman who stumbles across the three bears' humble abode while wandering through the woods. You'd always thought the story was make-believe, designed to entertain small children, but what if I told you that you were wrong?

Goldie Locks is very real, a spoiled young woman living in a bubble of her father's wealth and indulgence. It is this Goldie who makes her way into the forest, losing her way and eventually seeking sanctuary in the small cottage she finds there. But little does Goldie know who really lives in the deep, dark woods and what they will do when they find her asleep in their home...

In this intensely erotic tale, beautiful, headstrong Goldie is left blushing crimson as she is sternly punished and thoroughly claimed by the three strict, ruggedly handsome owners of the cottage in which she foolishly dared to trespass. To Goldie's surprise, the bold dominance of her captors arouses her deeply, but will she run for her life when their shocking secret is finally revealed?

Publisher's Note: Goldie's Surrender includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don't buy this book.

The fairy tale is true…

Goldie Locks is very real, a young, over-indulged woman living in a bubble of her father’s wealth and influence. It is this Goldie who makes her way into the forest, losing her way and eventually seeking sanctuary in the small cottage she finds there. Little does Goldie know who really lives in the deep, dark woods, and what they will do when they find her asleep in their bed…

In this unique erotic tale, we follow the story of Goldie’s awakening, discovering how the masterful owners of the cottage take her in hand, and offer her a taste of something different – a life where she is cherished, rather than used. For her part, Goldie learns a thing or two about herself along the way, particularly how hot and aroused she finds the shameful spankings she receives at the hands of her dominant captors. But can the pampered princess really give up her life of riches, and surrender to the will of these three strange men, and what will happen when all of their secrets are finally revealed?

           For a moment we are barely an inch from each other, and then – in a heartbeat – he is on me. We land on the bed together, our limbs knotting briefly before his powerful legs move between mine, spreading them wide apart. What just happened, I wonder? One moment I was empowered, devouring his beautiful cock, and the next I am flat on my back with this giant between my legs.
“Now I have you, little girl,” he teases me.
I scowl at him, slapping his strong right tricep playfully. “Don’t call me girl,” I complain. “I hate that!”
He lowers his face towards me, the muscles of his arms taking the strain without complaint. “I know you do,” he replies with a smirk. “That’s why I say it!”
He is so close to me now that I can barely even take a breath. I am pinioned by his imposing, powerful body, yet it is the weight of his stare which seems to paralyze me.
“I am not, and never will be, your girl…” My voice is raspy, and my desire plain to hear, but still, I continue with my snarky attitude.
“You’ll be whatever I tell you to be,” he says with a grin.

About the author
Felicity Brandon is a #1 international bestseller of erotic spanking romance.
She’s been reading and writing for many years, and loves to delve into the psychological intensity of sexual submission. She has written erotic titles in contemporary, historical and fantasy genres.

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Website –  https://felicitybrandonwrites.com/
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TOP 1000 REVIEWERon February 3, 2018

As a young girl, I grew up on Disney and fairytales. Knowing the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, this version will take a different spin, and is not a fairytale for children; this is one that is full of eroticism, punishment, bondage, explicit sex and ménage scenes. But it also has plenty of secrets, mystery, suspense, along with angst, attitude, brattiness, and dominance. Ms. Felicity Brrandon has created a page-turning adult fairy tale with four unique characters. Each of the three brothers has their own personality and style, and then there is Goldie.

Goldie Locks is a spoiled only child to Daniel Locks a wealthy businessman who doesn’t have time for his child on a personal level and has overindulged her with “things” in life. While Goldie is used to material things, she lacks in a loving relationship with her father. The closest she has to someone who really cares about her is Harry, an employee.

The plot will have Miss I’ll-do-whatever-I-want decided that she will leave a note that she has gone to meet friends, and instead, takes Daddy’s jeep and parks it to go exploring in the woods. All goes well as long as she has a cell signal and compass, but eventually, our little explorer will lose that and find herself lost and no way to call for help. A miserable night alone in the cold woods, and in the morning she will wander and find a cottage. When no one answers the door, she will enter, help herself to soup on the stove, break a chair, and then find a bed to take a nap. That is where the three brothers, Logan, Ethan, and Heath will find her, asleep in Heath’s bed.

Goldie awakens to three angry men who demand answers, and our spoiled girl is belligerent, condescending, and willful. Rather than kindly explaining her predicament, she is rude and less than forthcoming. This doesn’t sit well with these three men.

“This young lady takes the term willful to a whole new level, and while I admire her spirit, it is time to call a halt to this performance. I am the master of this house and this forest, and she has stepped, however unwittingly, into my domain.”

For her behavior, rudeness, entering their home uninvited, eating their food, breaking a chair and sleeping in a bed, she must pay penance. It is decided that money won’t get her out of trouble, she must submit to a spanking by Logan with Ethan and Heath bearing witness to her chastisement.
Then in the morning, Logan will help her get back to her vehicle and away from them. But mother nature sends a terrible thunderstorm with torrential rains that change those plans.

During the thunderstorm, Goldie in fear will seek the comfort of Logan that turns to a night of passion. But come morning, she will not be able to leave and there again, that diva attitude will come out. It doesn’t take long before these four will find themselves tangled up in the sheets in a consensual ménage. The longer our girl Goldie is under the dominance of three strong men, the easier she acquiesces to them and becomes a willing submissive.

“I am the thing I have always wanted to become—a vessel designed for pleasure. And finally, it seems I have found not one, but three men who are strong enough to handle me.”

What happens when the strong-willed, stubborn, know-it-all Goldie decides to sneak out in the night to try and find her way? She is lucky she has three strong men who come to her aid, but what did she just see? Now a new mystery has entered the picture, and these men are angry. She is now expected to pay the price by submitting to each man for punishment. Some secrets cannot be shared and a way of life that these men have protected in the forest for themselves and the other animals. Things that Goldie’s father and his business would like to destroy. Has Goldie become the enemy?

“You will be punished soundly until you are contrite, and then you will be loved and comforted.”

When the forest is safe to travel again, will Goldie want to leave and go back to the life of ease and luxury that she has always known? Or will she decide that she has found happiness with three strong men who will love her, pleasure her, and punish her?

Sunday, February 25, 2018

A Fortune To Win: A Romance Miniseries by Suz deMello (#romance #miniseries)

Drug addicts Harvey, Lord Darlingside, and his supermodel wife, Mara, died by drowning in the Trevi Fountain while on a heroin binge. In a previous rare moment of sobriety, Harvey created a trust for their three children with a peculiar stipulation designed to ensure none would go his way: each must demonstrate maturity by making a substantial non-monetary contribution to others.

A Fortune To Win is the story of the Darlingside heirs' journey to love and their legacies.

Will Alice break through her emotional shell to find love?

Can supermodel Sophie survive repeated attacks from someone who seems bent upon her death?

Alcoholic Peter is accused of murder...can he get his head out of the bottle long enough to beat the charge and maintain his freedom?


Here's a snippet to pique your interest...from Peter's Story:




[ROME] The jetsetting couple known as ‘Marvey,’ Harvey Fortune, Lord Darlingside and his supermodel wife Mara Tove, were found at three a.m. today (local time) drowned in the historic Trevi Fountain. An autopsy is planned, which many fear will confirm the initial assumption that the couple’s known heroin addiction caused their deaths. Reportedly, used syringes were found on the fountain’s marble balustrade… They leave three adult children: Peter, age 26, the new Earl Darlingside; daughter Alice, 23, a teacher; Sophia, 19, a model.

one week later


LONDON] …Though the Fortune family solicitor, Rabbie White of White, Cheshire and Queen (Lincolns Inn Fields) remains closemouthed, an unidentified source close to the family states that the Fortune fortune, encompassing a manor house in Kent, a mansion in Hampstead, and invested monies totaling some 50 million pounds, will be divided between ‘Marvey’s’ children. However, the ‘Marvey’ trust requires the heirs make a substantial non-monetary contribution to society. Whether each child’s acts are sufficient to inherit is a decision left solely to White’s discretion. Apparently Lord and Lady Darlingside wanted to ensure that their progeny did not follow the same dangerous path they trod…

...eighteen months later...

Chapter One

One cool, bright summer morning, Peter Fortune, Earl Darlingside, awakened in a big, four-poster bed covered with a fluffy white duvet with a woman beside him. She was dead.

Until that moment, he’d been doing quite well, thank you very much, considering that he’d spent the night before drinking Remy Martin Black Pearl with a number of equally dissolute young noblemen and getting drunk as, well, drunk as lords. He should have had a throbbing head, unclear eyesight and a belly that pitched like bloody hell, but he felt great. And, given that he’d won rather than lost betting on billiards was another point in favor of the day.

Which was, he remembered blearily, Monday, perhaps? Or maybe Tuesday. Did it matter?

The window was open to the Hampstead sunshine and also admitted birdsong. Every once in a while he heard the sound of a distant siren, reminding him of...of…?

Oh yes, the dead girl.


He supposed he ought to call 9-9-9 and get an ambulance, though judging by her total lack of movement and warmth, the authorities would get to her too late. Far too late.

He rolled to the side, reaching for the bedside table where his mobile reposed. Something jabbed his arse, and he threw back the sheet to find a used syringe. A needlestick from an addict’s rig. Oh, shite, I’m fucked. He grabbed the thing and flung it across the room, then called for help.


She’d been called Foxy Roxy for as long as she could remember, but she hadn’t embraced the nickname until her fifteenth birthday. That day she’d visited a charity shop with friends. One had spotted an old fox stole on a mannequin and bought it for Roxanne Fox as a gift. She’d worn that fox pelt around her neck on cool days until it had fallen apart, then bought another and then another. Only from the charity shops, though—she wouldn’t be directly responsible for the death of an innocent animal. Later she’d found a source for high-quality fakes, which fit her vegan habits far better.

This morning, she was nibbling a gluten-free currant scone slathered with soya cream cheese whilst enjoying her second flat white of the day (made with soya of course), reading a fairly interesting case file about a fellow who had been recorded by the many CCTVs roundabout London. Unfortunately for the client, he’d been taped with his zip open whilst fondling an impressive erection. Even less fortunately, the Crown was not amenable to letting the incident go by even though he claimed he’d been “pissed legless.”

Roxanne’s secretary stuck her head into the open doorway, her eyes round. “That prat Darlingside has gotten himself arrested again.”

“Oh, happy day.” Roxy wiped her mouth with a hanky. “What is it this time? Dead drunk? Car crash?”

“No, it’s more serious. Unless someone’s having a go at us.”

“Not chundering onto some poor copper’s shoes?” That had been a memorable case.

“No, murder.”

Roxy sat up straighter. She’d been White, Cheshire and Queen’s criminal defense specialist for four years, having left the Crown Prosecution Service to pursue more lucrative options. At WCQ, she’d had the opportunity to sample a more varied menu of cases than she’d expected. Along with the anticipated tax avoidance schemes and family squabbles regarding bequests—which occasionally devolved into wine-throwing and fistfights—a prominent client occasionally committed the odd sexual peccadillo, like the fellow diddling his dong in Notting Hill.

And then there was Peter Fortune, the Earl of Darlingside, who seemed intent upon imitating his parents’ strikingly self-destructive ways.

Bless him—he’d brought her a case she could really sink her teeth into. “Where’s he being held?”

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Saturday, February 24, 2018

Fun New Stuff, and Grab it Now or Forever Hold Your Peace

After much debate, mostly with myself, I finally decided to start a new chat group for my books. The reason it took me so long is that as you know, there are SO many groups on Facebook already! The reason I decided to add yet another one of my very own is that I often want to chat with you and get your opinion on different things related to my books like cover designs, blurbs, excerpts, character names, character traits, cover models, and a number of other things, including just hanging out and having fun. Since I don't want to bombard your inbox with yet another newsletter or PM you, a group turned out to be the most logical hangout.

Now, we started a housewarming party yesterday evening with lots of prizes including over 24 e-books and some cool surprise goodies from me, and it's not too late for you to get in on it if you join us before the weekend is over. Just like a LIVE housewarming party, it's an open-house and you can come whenever, take a tour, hang out and chat, answer questions, but yeah, in this one, there are prizes to be won. In addition, I have random giveaways for Den members when ever it strikes my fancy, even when there's not a specific party going on, and I'd love to see you there :-)

So yeah, I have to admit it's not quite this urgent, but just in case you're planning to get a copy of "At All Costs," it will be gone for  good after the 29th, never to be seen again in its present form. My individual story in the anthology, co-authored with my fabulous friend, Muffy Wilson, will be rewritten, lengthened, and sold as a single once the set is no longer available, but there won't be another opportunity to get all of the stories in one set again. Grab your copy now so you won't miss the deadline. It's a nice, diverse set with angels, psychics, and shifters, including dragons, and it's gotten some really good reviews. Here's the link, and don't forget to come hang out with us on Facebook! 

Friday, February 23, 2018

Tell A fairy Day

Hi everyone,

Three days from now, February 26, iNational Tell a Fairy Tale DayAn HEA ( happily ever after)  kind of day to honor fairy tales. I have a fantasy romance series called Dancing Vampires which are six tales of seven fey sisters of the baobhan sith. So it's a perfect way to celebrate National Tell A Fairy Day. And the first in the series is free and for a limited time the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th books are only 99¢ each. 

Who or what are the baobhan sith, (bah vawn shee) you ask? They are vampiric fey who roam the Scottish highlands. All of them are women, no men. They are voluptuous and enticing beauties always garbed in green dresses. Also, they have talons, no fangs. Like other vampires, they drink human blood and they fry in the sunlight. In some tales their feet are like the hooves of goats. Many call them dancing vampires as they look for young men coming from the pub at night. The baobhan sith dance with them until the men are exhausted then they transform their nails to talons. The dancing grows rough as the baobhan sith rake their nails across their dance partner’s back. They claw at the men’s skin, draining their blood so they can drink it. 

The most well known folk tale of the baobhan sith is of four young men, travelers, in the highlands, who stop for the night in a highland glade and build a fire. As they sit around the campfire they all wish they had a beautiful woman with them. Four gorgeous women, who just happen to be near the glade, join them. The men are thrilled when the women dance with them. Then the dancing grows harsh as the women tear at the men with long, claw like nails. One man runs out of the camp and hides between two horses. The baobhan sith circle him, but don’t come close enough to grab him. When dawn breaks they vanish. The man finds his friends bloodied corpses. The survivor escaped because the iron in the horses shoes kept the baobhan sith away. Just as silver harms vampires, iron, especially steel, is used as a charm, as protection against fey. As you know, horse shoes are considered lucky and they certainly were for the long ago traveler of this Scottish folk tale. 
For a modern take on the baobhan sith, visit them in my Dancing Vampire series. 

Seven vampiric temptresses dance with seven handsome highlanders. Then they turn on the men. 

Ian captures Sorcha, giving his brothers a chance to escape. With the vampiric fey woman still in his grasp, Ian is saved by the rising sun. Sorcha's sisters vanish with the light of dawn leaving her trapped in the mortal realm. Ian is bewitched by the wild delights she offers and Sorcha can't resist the urges he stirs in her. But her wicked sisters and his highland brothers only want to attack and kill each other. Will Sorcha and Ian's sizzling passion prove strong enough to overcome the differences between human and fey?
Murdina a vampiric fey is hunting for a man, but this time she wants love not blood. She spots Cameron just as a strong wind lifts his kilt, she takes a good look and decides he’s the one. 
Cameron meets a mysterious beauty, who dances the Highland fling for him, and his blood boils for her. Soon Murdina and Cameron are doing more than dancing. But their time together is limited. Murdina’s fey sisters are crossing the portal to steal her back and probably kill him. Is their love strong enough to overcome the threat posed to Murdina’s heart and to Cameron’s life?
Calin has fantasized about the vampiric fey, Ever, since they danced a year ago. When they meet again he waste no time in claiming and capturing her. Once the sun rises, Ever can’t leave the earthly realm and is bound by fey lore to Calin. Though he has saved her from the sun, things get pretty hot in his arms. But she made a vow to her sisters to not leave them for a mortal man. She fights her feelings for Calin and seeks help from goddess Morrigan.

The goddess wants the tall, muscular mortal for herself. So she frees Ever to return underhill. It isn’t until Ever’s back with her sisters that she realizes her heart is still held captive by Calin. When Calin spurns Morrigan’s attentions, the goddess’s lust turns to vengeance. With the odds against him, will Calin escape the goddess’ clutches, get Ever back from underhill and figure out a way to be with the woman he loves.
From different worlds, fey and human, Charlak and Angus fight for their forbidden love.
Angus, a sexy highlander, is consumed with dreams of Charlak, a fiery vampiric fey. Their dancing steps came to a halt a year ago when they almost killed each other. Angus comes upon the alluring woman again and, despite the danger, he has to have one waltz with her. Angus holds Charlak in a passionate embrace as they dance across a field of heather. An insatiable hunger rises in her and it isn’t for his blood.
 From different worlds, fey and human, her sisters and his brothers threaten at every turn to keep them apart. Charlak and Angus fight for their future and their forbidden love.
Dancing Vampires with talons drawn face the Valkyrie with swords unsheathed… Mordak’s love has become a battlefield. 

Tor never expected to run into three voluptuous redheads, much less three gorgeous blondes, who literally drop from the sky. It’s the redhead, Mordak, who catches his eye. The moment Mordak spots Tor, she wants more from him than his blood. She burns for his touch, but before she can enchant Tor, three Valkyrie land in front of him. Mordak is not about to let the Norse blondes fly off with her man.

When Mordak fights the Valkyrie and saves his life, Tor knows she’s the woman for him. But Mordak lives in the fey realm where he can’t go and she promised her sisters she’d never fall in love with a human. Can Tor escape the Valkyrie who want to slay him and win Mordak’s love even though he’s only human?
The last of the dancing vampire sisters, shimmy and strut their way into belly dancing at a Scottish Steampunk Con.
  It’s all sizzle and steam when they get together with a sexy rock guitarist and a hot looking god at the con. Afric swore she’d never love a human but Kade’s got her tied up in Celtic knots with the exotic pleasures of his shibari rope.

And for this month the first book —Dance of the Vampires is free, and Vampire Highland Fling, A Bonnie Vampire Dancer, and Vampire Waltz or only 99¢ each.