Wednesday, 22 April 2015

FOR HEAVEN'S CAKES - FREE DOWNLOAD




Blurb

What he doesn’t anticipate is meeting the local pharmacist’s daughter - in his wolf form. By day, he renovates the pharmacy, and tries to cajole the lush assistant into having dinner with him. By night he watches Catherine bake her fantastic creations and blossom through her art.
Sleeping on her bed each night in his wolf form isn’t exactly ideal, but how does he tell her the wolf she’s come to love, is the man she lusts over?

Excerpt

Mrs. Timmins turned to see what had caught Catherine’s attention. Her pointed chin turned upward to meet the dip of her nose, which nearly fell into her wizened old mouth as it opened and closed.
He seemed to have the same effect on all women, no matter what age. He was probably used to it.
“Well now, this is precisely what I mean, Catherine.” Mrs. Timmins smacked her lips together. “Hello, young man. Don’t I know you?”
“Yes ma’am. Good to see you looking so well Mrs. Timmins. You don’t look a day older than when I last saw you.”
The harsh cackle took Catherine by surprise, but Beau smiled at the old lady as he leaned his elbow on the counter. She tried not to stare as his T-shirt pulled tight across his chest, but a small whimper threatened to escape.
Mrs. Timmins wiped her dry old lips with the back of her hand. “I remember you. You’re the middle Devlin boy. The one who left to make his fortune.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“And did you?”
“I did.”
“Good. I never did believe all those rumors about you being trash.”
Catherine almost choked, but Mrs. Timmins hooted with laughter and patted Beau’s arm, pausing a moment to give it a sly stroke.
With a regretful sigh, she peered near-sighted into his face. “Are you married?”
“No ma’am, are you proposing?”
The hawking laughter drew Catherine’s gaze away from the flexed muscles of Beau’s arm to the old lady who seemed to have difficulty breathing. Another side effect of the hunk’s presence. He had the ability to stop a woman’s breath.
“Engaged?”
“No ma’am.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Nope.”
“Gay?”
It wasn’t deliberate, but Catherine simply couldn’t stop uttering. “Definitely not!”
Heat washed over her as they both stared at her. Beau’s slow smile made her want to hide under the counter. She’d never had the ability to stop words blurting from her mouth before her brain had the foresight to stop them.
She tried a casual shrug, but from the deep laughter lines slashing into his cheeks, her awkward jerk had been just that.
“There you go. I just told Catherine how she needed a man to give her a real good…”
“Mrs. Timmins!”

“…time.”


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Saturday, 18 April 2015

Virtue's Lady - Jessica Cale






Author: Jessica Cale
Publisher: Liquid Silver
Release Date: April 13th

Tagline

From toiling for pennies to bare-knuckle boxing, a lady is prepared for every eventuality.

Blurb

     Lady Jane Ramsey is young, beautiful, and ruined.
     After being rescued from her kidnapping by a handsome highwayman, she returns home only to find her marriage prospects drastically reduced. Her father expects her to marry the repulsive Lord Lewes, but Jane has other plans. All she can think about is her highwayman, and she is determined to find him again.
     Mark Virtue is trying to go straight. After years of robbing coaches and surviving on his wits, he knows it’s time to hang up his pistol and become the carpenter he was trained to be. He busies himself with finding work for his neighbors and improving his corner of Southwark as he tries to forget the girl who haunts his dreams. As a carpenter struggling to stay in work in the aftermath of The Fire, he knows Jane is unfathomably far beyond his reach, and there’s no use wishing for the impossible.
     When Jane turns up in Southwark, Mark is furious. She has no way of understanding just how much danger she has put them in by running away. In spite of his growing feelings for her, he knows that Southwark is no place for a lady. Jane must set aside her lessons to learn a new set of rules if she is to make a life for herself in the crime-ridden slum. She will fight for her freedom and her life if that’s what it takes to prove to Mark—and to herself—that there’s more to her than meets the eye.

Excerpt

She hung up the dress, admiring her handiwork. It was not something she would willingly wear, but she hoped the lady would be pleased with the final result. She heard the front door behind her as she bent to pluck a stray thread from the skirt. “We’ve shut for the day,” she called over her shoulder.
When she heard no response, she turned.
Mark Virtue stood behind the counter, his hand still on the doorknob. His long brown coat hung open over his dusty work clothes, the undyed linen of his shirt straining across his broad chest. That chest, a warm expanse of smooth skin over hard, sculpted muscle, was a work of art. Though she had willed herself to forget him, her hands remembered.
Her lips remembered, too.
She licked them with the tip of her tongue, her mouth gone quite dry.
“I didn’t believe it,” he said, his gaze moving from her shapeless leather shoes to her dirty, gloveless hands. Jane looked down, suddenly aware of her shabby work dress. Compared to the other gowns he had seen her in, it was little more than a rag, really. She had braided her hair over her shoulder to keep it out of her stitching and now she wondered what she must look like to him. She touched the end of her braid self-consciously, a touch of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.
She cursed herself for her embarrassment. She had as much right to be here as anyone, and she was done apologizing to Mark Virtue. She straightened her spine and looked him square in his devastatingly blue eyes.
Her knees may have trembled a bit. She did a good job of hiding it. “Well?”
Mark stepped toward the counter. “I sent you back to your father not a fortnight past.”
She shrugged, borrowing the gesture from Carys. “I didn’t go.”
“I see that.”
He paced around the side of the counter while maintaining what little distance he could in the close quarters of the shop.
Jane stepped back, hiding the toes of her soft leather shoes under the hem of her dress. Her slippers may have been stolen, but she still had her silk stockings. She wore them even now, not that he needed to know that.
He had rather liked them, if she remembered correctly.
She swallowed. “What do you want?”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I’ve come to see the new shop girl everyone’s talking about. You look the part, I’ll give you that. Perhaps a touch more dirt, just here...” He brushed her skirt.
Jane crossed her arms over her chest. “Is that what you think this is? You think I’m pretending?”
“Rather unconvincingly, I’m afraid. All the shapeless dresses in the world couldn’t disguise the fact that you’re a lady. Lowering yourself to wield a needle doesn’t make you one of us.”
Jane clenched her jaw. “I’ve as much right to be here as you do.”
“You have no right,” he insisted. “You can’t play at being poor. This is life to these people. This is my life. You think I ought to stand by while you make a mockery of it by working in a place like this when you can leave anytime you please?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she nearly shouted. “I told you, Mark, I gave it up. Believe it folly if you will, but it changes nothing. I am never going back.”
Mark looked away. “Give it a fortnight.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Give it a fortnight,” he repeated. “Work, and struggle, and starve with the rest of us if that is what you think you want. You weren’t made for this world any more than I was made for yours. Sooner or later, you’ll be desperate to go home.”
“I am home,” Jane said through her teeth. “I’m staying here.”
“How long do you suppose you can last alone in a bastard sanctuary with no money and no protection? How do you expect to live?”
“I have a job, in case you were not aware.” She threw out her arms to indicate the shop. “I work day and night, and I have a little apartment with a door that locks. I’ll make do.”
He tilted his head, looking at her curiously. “In two weeks on your own? Maybe you’ve got a protector after all.”
Jane might have been na├»ve, but she knew exactly what he was implying, and she didn’t like it. She felt the anger rush to her face, unbidden and terrifying in its intensity. She took a deep breath. “Get out.”
“Jane, be reasonable.”
Her face burned. “You’d like me to stand here while you question my virtue? You of all people? You had no trouble dispensing with it when you thought me an actress!”
Mark gave a long sigh. “For that I apologize. I was a fool. I never should have thought that someone like you...” He motioned toward her helplessly.
“Someone like me? Who might that be? Am I a lady? Am I a seamstress? Am I a whore? You don’t seem to like me as any of these things, so why don’t you tell me, Mark, who I ought to be. What kind of a woman am I?”
He took her wrists in his hands and held them to his chest, the irritation in his face replaced by something that looked a bit like shame. “That’s not what I meant.” He lowered his voice, his face close enough that she could smell the tobacco in his clothes. “Do as you please. It makes no difference to me.”
Jane’s fingers spanned his chest of their own accord, responding to his warmth. “It doesn’t?”
He shook his head, his eyes settling on her lips. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he confessed.
She resisted the urge to lean into him with some difficulty. “I’ve done fine this far.”
“Have you?” He took her hand, turning her palm upwards to examine the damage: pinpricks, swollen fingertips, the ghosts of calluses forming where she grasped the shears.
She tugged her hand away from him but he didn’t let go. He held her gaze, his eyes searching hers, and she was struck again by their extraordinary color. Deep blue, green, and grey, shifted across his irises in restless, churning waves, the color of a storm on the river. They darkened as he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed the palm, the touch of his lips like a balm on her sore skin.
Jane held her breath, waiting to drown.
He smiled his crooked smile, a touch of condescension in the corners. “If all you wanted was another night, you didn’t have to go to such trouble.”




Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25238694-virtue-s-lady

Buy Links:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Virtues-Lady-Southwark-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B00VC6B9SS/

Other Books in This Series

Tyburn (The Southwark Saga, Book 1): Notorious harlot Sally Green fights for survival in Restoration London. When a brutal attack throws them together, Sally is torn between the tutor who saves her and the highwayman who keeps her up at night; between new love and an old need for revenge. Finalist for the Southern Magic Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence 2015.

Barnes & Noble

Author Bio

Jessica Cale is a historical romance author and journalist based in North Carolina. Originally from Minnesota, she lived in Wales for several years where she earned a BA in History and an MFA in Creative Writing while climbing castles and photographing mines for history magazines. She kidnapped (“married”) her very own British prince (close enough) and is enjoying her happily ever after with him in a place where no one understands his accent. You can visit her at www.authorjessicacale.com.








Social Media Links

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Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Jessica-Cale/e/B00PVDV9EW/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0


Friday, 10 April 2015

Sweet Imperfection by Libby Waterford





Available from Decadent Publishing  March 31, 2015
A contemporary multi-cultural erotic romance novella


Blurb
Single and childless, Emma Chen-Delvaux is finding her ten-year college reunion almost more than she can handle. Running into recently divorced Nate Hirsch is a welcome distraction, especially when the old friends’ flirtation escalates from banter to the bedroom. Nate and Emma have off-the-charts chemistry, but will their imperfections end their affair after one red-hot reunion weekend?


Excerpt from Sweet Imperfection
She told herself a woman was entitled to change her mind and that going to Nate’s room close to midnight didn’t make her slutty. Some of the things she wanted to do to him once she got there might qualify her for the designation, but that would be between them. God, it had been so long since she’d had sex she was practically wet just thinking about making out with him.
She barreled into the building since the door was conveniently propped open, but then stopped. She didn’t know which room he was assigned to. She’d meant to get his phone number, but had been so flustered by the kiss it had slipped her mind.
Oh well, she’d have to do this the old-fashioned way.
“Nate!” she called in a fairly loud voice as she trailed through the first-floor hallway. “Nate!”
The hallway was dead quiet, so he was either ignoring her or the floor’s occupants were very sound sleepers. They were probably all at the party in Ashworth 10.
She climbed to the second floor, calling his name, feeling slightly foolish, but also pretty horny, which was more important.
“Nate!”
A woman came out of the bathroom and looked startled when Emma rushed up to her.
“Hey, do know what room Nate Hirsch is in, by any chance?”
 “Um, no, sorry,” she said, then scurried back to her room on the opposite side of the hall.
Emma wasn’t giving up so easily and again called, “Nate!” She was about to climb the stairs to the top floor of the building when the door of the corner room opened and Nate stuck out his head.
“Emma?”
“Nate.” She rushed up to him, relishing the confused but cute smile on his face and the crinkles it formed around his eyes.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m an idiot. I thought it would be taking things too fast, but we’ve known each other forever. Plus, there’s a rager going on right outside my room, and I’d rather get no sleep this way.” She planted an open-mouthed kiss on him that had them both stumbling backward into his room. The door clanged shut behind them; Emma paid no attention to anything except the fierceness with which Nate’s arms clamped around her, holding her to him as if for dear life.

Buy Links


 



About the Author

Libby Waterford writes steamy contemporary romances. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband and two sons, where she works off her weekly pilgrimage to In-N-Out by swimming and climbing the city's secret staircases.

Author Links

Email: libby@libbywaterford.com


The Weston University Novella Series
Book One: Passionate History
Book Three: Endless Devotion (coming soon)







Wednesday, 1 April 2015

Atlantic Divide - Book 2, Bad Girl Bill




Blurb

From the moment British Special Forces Operative Michael Marsden meets Deputy Sherriff Bill Swann, sparks fly and lust flows.

When a man meets a woman who rides a Harley Davidson and wears a gun strapped to her hip, he’s bound to be in for a few surprises. Because long-legged tomboy, Bill, is definitely not what she seems.

Having made it clear he’s looking for a no-strings-attached fling, Michael realizes he has to use all of his tactical knowledge to negotiate his way around Bill’s five older brothers to get her alone. Then he needs to get past her defenses. And his own heart.

Being confronted by two-dozen boxes of condoms and a wild-eyed woman possibly rated right up there in that uncomfortable zone.

She paced back and forward, walked around the opposite side of the kitchen table, flung her arm out and pointed at the offending items as soon as he walked through the door.

“There you go. Take your pick.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or run. He thought she might kill him in either case.

He chose to study the boxes on the table instead. “You seem to have pretty high expectations, Bill.”

“They’re all sealed.” She rubbed her hands roughly up and down her thighs; if she did it much harder, she was going to rub a hole in her jeans.

“Why wouldn’t they be sealed? Where did you get them?”

“Well I couldn’t get them from a store in town now could I? There’s not a single soul here that I don’t know, haven’t lectured, helped across a road, or arrested.” She wrapped her arms around her body, chewed on her lip as Michael tried desperately not to smile. She looked so serious. “I think my brothers may all be perverts.” She scowled across the table at him.

“You got them from your brothers?” He gave a wary nod; she may not need to kill him. “Brave move, Bill. When are they all arriving with their shotguns?”

She snorted out a laugh, leaned forward, and picked up one of the small packets. Waved it at him.
“I filched them. I went right into their house with a pecan pie that I bought in town, put it on the kitchen table, then trawled the house for their condoms while they were out.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, and when he opened them again, she was waggling another small box at him.

“Well, I don’t understand. These ones say they’re fruit-flavored. I have no idea what you would be doing putting one of those in your mouth. You could choke to death for the love of God.”

He nearly did. He watched her through narrowed eyes. She could not be serious, could she? Was she really that naive?

“And here”—she picked up another pack, tapped it on the table—“what in hell’s name are you supposed to do with these? They have the American flag emblazoned on them. Does that mean you have to stand to attention when you’re wearing them?” Throwing them back on the table, she picked up another pack, while he hauled in a gasping breath, trying his hardest not to guffaw. Standing at attention was a prerequisite, surely? He could feel gurgles of laughter rushing up through his belly into his chest. The woman was priceless. She wasn’t kidding; she was deadly serious.

“Why in the name of all that’s holy would you want something like this glowing at you in the dark? And these…these are colored, blue, green, purple; surely to Christ you’re going to look like you have a disease. I’m surprised there’s no polka dots here.” She picked one packet up after another, throwing them back on the table in disgust. “And these warm up, and these ones…well, they’re studded.”

“Do you mean ribbed?”

“Uh, well isn’t that the same thing?”

“No, I’m pretty sure there’s a difference between ribbed and studded.”

She frowned at him, her eyes frenetic and confused. “There’s something wrong with my brothers. There isn’t a single condom here for normal use. I’m sorry. I guess I messed up. I have no condoms to speak of.” She flung her hand frantically across the table, swept half the boxes onto the floor.

“We can’t have sex,” she howled.

Michael’s smile faded fast as his amusement fled.

“It’s okay, Bill.” He found he could speak at last. “I have it covered.” He reached delicately into his back trouser pocket and pulled out a small foil packet.

“Is that it?”

He glanced at the kitchen table, at the floor, and back to his fingers holding a single foil, a smile quirked across his lips.

“Well, what did you expect?”

“Well. More than one. Surely. The boys always say…”

“Bill. How about you forget what your boys have always said. Men lie. A lot.” He leaned across the table and took hold of her wrist to guide her around to his side, still holding the foil packet aloft in his other hand.

“Well, what does it do?” she demanded.

“It protects you from getting pregnant and from sexually transmitted diseases.”

“Is that it? It doesn’t have whistles or bells or lights or anything?”

He chuckled as he drew her in close. “No, it doesn’t.”