If you have the time read an excerpt from Regina Carlysle's new release, Eagle's Refuge. Eagle's Refuge is book three in the Texan Passion series written by Desiree Holt and Cindy Spencer Pape.
Book three in the Texas Passions series.
When Callista Hill settles in tiny Morgan’s Creek, she vows to make a better life for herself. She never figured lust and screaming-hot orgasms were part of the equation. One look at the local bar owner and she’s flooded with the need to have him in her bed. He burns her to ash with every erotic touch, bringing her sex-starved body achingly to life.
The instant dark, moody Mac Moreno claps eyes on Callie, he knows he wants her. Her lush curves turn him inside out and have his libido racing from zero to sixty in three seconds flat. Burning up the sheets with this sassy, sweet lady brings him back to life. But when her stalking ex hunts her down, will Callie run?
Not if Mac can help it.
By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
Mac Moreno leaned back against the corral fence and looked out over land that now belonged, in part, to him. A year ago, he would never have imagined such a thing but with Joe Morgan’s death, the White Eagle Ranch had been split into thirds, leaving his half sister Leah, half brother Dash and himself with a legacy that was pretty overwhelming to a guy who’d scratched out a living alone for most of his life.
Heavy noonday sunshine beat down on him. Mac swept the battered straw cowboy hat from his head and mopped his sweaty brow with a bandana he kept tucked in his back pocket.
Damn hot today.
A savage shriek ripped through the air. Mac squinted at the violently blue Texas sky and watched a lone eagle glide through that vivid palette to land on the roof of the barn where it pierced him with an unblinking gaze. Eagle and man shared a moment of utter communion. No doubt the bird of prey wondered what the hell a nobody like himself was doing out here laying claim to this land, this ranch.
Mac had asked himself the same question a million times over the past few months. Sending his gaze over the immediate area, taking in the stately ranch house in the distance, the corrals, the barn, he wondered about the fickleness of fate. His mother Elena had been the housekeeper for Joe Morgan thirty-odd years ago and on one hot Texas night, she’d slept with the boss and wound up pregnant. That event had ended her employment at White Eagle Ranch and she’d moved on to clean the houses of wealthy folks in the town of Morgan’s Creek, scratching out a living as a single mother until the day she’d died.
Mac’s jaw tightened.
As he shifted his gaze to the side of the barn, memories assaulted him, bitter and ultimately humiliating. He’d been sixteen, a gangly kid who knew full well the rich, powerful Joe Morgan was the father who’d never claimed him, never wanted him.
“What the hell are you doing here, boy?”
Mac swallowed hard. His hands were shaking but he didn’t want his father to see so he shoved them in the pockets of his jeans and tried like hell to look cool. “Looking for work, sir.”
Joe scowled at him. He was a big man with a shock of white hair and as intimidating as hell. This was the man who didn’t want him, didn’t speak to him on the streets of Morgan’s Creek, the town that bore his name. The big man looked down and then up, taking him in, sizing him up, and Mac knew Joe Morgan didn’t like what he saw. Nope. He didn’t measure up but had he thought he would? He’d been fooling himself.
“Aren’t you Elena Moreno’s kid?”
Silence fell. Mac sucked in a breath and held it. What the hell had he been thinking? Had he imagined his dad would call him son and hug him like he meant it?
Suddenly Mac felt stupid and dumb and more on the outside than ever before.
Why would the all-powerful Joe Morgan ever in a million years acknowledge a poor Mexican kid from the wrong side of the tracks? To most of the town, Mac was nothing but trash. He had no hope of college and could lay claim to no kind of future. Hell, his mom had saved for years just to buy him a class ring so he could remember his high school days. Dumb thing but it made Elena proud to do it. She’d saved every dime so he could have a couple of new pairs of jeans at the start of every school year. She’d worked her fingers to the bone, scrubbing toilets and polishing floors, to give him the bare necessities of life. Joe Morgan had never contributed. Not once.
In the distance, a horse galloped across a pasture. Pretty Leah, his half sister, the legitimate child of Joe Morgan, was out riding her beautiful mare, her ponytail whipping out behind her like a shiny flag. Resentment welled up deep inside him. His heart tightened and frustration dug steely spurs into his belly. She had everything. He had nothing. The fact that she didn’t know he was her brother wasn’t the issue. Mac was so jealous he wanted to just die.
He was the unacknowledged bastard kid of a rich dude who apparently hated his guts.
Mac focused on the older man and wanted to kick his own ass. His being here was stupid, ridiculous.
Joe shifted his stance and gave him a fierce look. “Think you’ve got what it takes to be a cowboy, kid?”
The spit dried in Mac’s mouth. “Yessir.”
“Well, I don’t think so,” he drawled. “Got plenty of hands and they don’t need to be babysitting you. Now you get on out of here, kid. You don’t belong here.”
Mac watched him walk away without a backward glance, standing there, his eyes burning like hellfire from tears. Then he turned and ran as fast as he could to the old beat-up truck he’d borrowed from a friend. Slamming the door of the truck, he rubbed his stinging eyes before driving away.
I’ve had a love affair with books my whole life. Books are always with me, at the doctor’s office, on my bedside table, allowing me to escape all the little things in life that overwhelm my world like laundry, shopping, cooking and cleaning, just to name a few.
I’d say they never let me down, but as an avid reader, I know that wouldn’t true.
There’s a favorite author of mine who I just began reading last year. I found one or two books, and her themes are very ghosty, which I LOVED. (Yes, that’s not a word but I bet you know exactly what I’m trying to say! ) ;}
Anyhow, I started reading everything I could get my hands on. The results, me wanting to throw several of them down the hallway.
Who am I to judge, right? I mean, I know how amazingly difficult it is to write a book. As difficult as it is to start one, it’s even more so to finish and send off to an editor.
But I’m talking about elemental things here. Guessing the villain/antagonist in chapter two, and the book reading like an elementary school Dick and Jane book. See Jane run. Dick said he wanted to run to. I don’t think so, Jane said.
Okay, maybe not that elemental, but you get the gist here, right?
As I said, I’m not trying to cut anyone down or make myself out to be super author, because Lord knows I am so not, but I think we as writers owe it to readers to write and submit our best books possible. Not only are we dealing with happily ever after, but it’s our responsibility to write a book that’s worth picking up and reading, worth every hard earned dollar that a reader will shell out to hear our story and to take that journey with us, and to write a book that won’t be thrown down the hallway or immediately removed from hard drives everywhere.
How about you, do you have a pet peeve when it comes to your fiction?
Detroit artist Meagan Kelly has had a strong sixth sense all her life, but that doesn't mean the gorgeous stranger's crazy story—that she's a half-elf, half human heiress—is true. But Meagan can't deny the evidence of her own eyes—he's Fae. A tall, blond, handsome, pointy-eared elf—and a man she just can't get enough of.
Ric Thornhill's assignment just got a lot more complicated. The more time he spends with Meagan, the harder it is to see her as a political tool to prevent an all-out war between humans and Fae.
Now Meagan's in a race to master her newly released powers in time to prevent the conflict, convince a jealous Queen not to strip Ric of his powers, and find out if she can build a life that straddles two worlds.
Book I of Urban Arcana
From the book...
Suburban Detroit was a truly odd place.
Ric Thornhill's vintage Jaguar convertible roared down Woodward Avenue, a wide car-clogged boulevard lined with all manner of businesses from elegant boutiques to seedy liquor stores. To his right loomed an enormous stone church that could have been in medieval Europe. On the left was a strip mall with a Chinese restaurant, a nail salon and a paycheck advance center.
Find Emery of Rose's long-lost daughter before the next Seelie Council meeting, or live out a miserable human lifespan as a powerless mortal. That was the geas that his boss, the elven queen, had cast on Ric. In other words, find the girl or die. His death sentence would simply take forty or fifty years to be carried out. The geas was a result of telling Her Majesty off the last time she'd sent him on a fool's errand. One would think he'd have learned by now to keep his mouth shut. The sad part was that on this job, he'd have done his best anyway. The fate of both realms could hang in the balance if he didn't.
In over eight centuries of existence, he'd been in plenty of sticky situations, but none as bad as this. He'd started the search in New York, where Emery had died. No luck there. He'd also tried Windsor, Ontario, the hometown of Emery's human wife. Nothing. Two other agents of the queen had mysteriously disappeared or been killed and now Ric was the only one left. And he was here in Detroit on nothing more than a hunch held by one of Emery's cousins. Aidan Greene believed his missing relative was somewhere nearby. Now Ric only had five days remaining and he'd gotten nowhere but here, which wasn't good.
The place was dismal and depressing—hot, gray and muggy on this August afternoon and the five-o'clock Friday traffic royally sucked. Ric had spent the last week checking out every new-age shop, so-called psychic and alternative club in the area—every place he could think of that a half-Fae would be drawn to. If his mediocre scrying skills hadn't led him to the right place this time, he was probably toast. He was supposed to be at a certain corner in Royal Oak at a certain time. Yeah, he had lots of info to go on.
He accelerated through a yellow light, cranked up the volume on his stereo and settled his black Ray-Ban sunglasses on his nose despite the overcast day. What the hell, might as well go down in style.
Leave a comment or a question for Tory and you could win an ebook copy of Talk Dirty to Me!
1. You’ve always wanted to be a writer, what finally motivated you to do it?
Well, I’ve been writing since around the age of ten. I must have said to myself one day, I think I’ll be a writer when I grow up. LOL It was my daughter and niece who encouraged me to submit to a publisher a few years ago. Two months later I had my first contract.
2. What published author, romance or otherwise, has been an inspiration to you?
Kathleen E. Woodiwiss is my favorite author but I also read a lot of Barbara Cartland growing up. Did they inspire me? By the time I started reading them I already had a stack of short stories I’d typed on a manual typewriter. But reading their stories did fuel my need to keep writing. I wanted to be like them
3. Do you write full-time or part-time? How do you manage to juggle your time?
Writing is my passion but it’s only a hobby for me. I work full time and I’m devoted to my small family, we spend a lot of time together. I’ll never be one of those writers who sign a contract for unwritten work. If I had to write I couldn’t do it. I’m not that disciplined. Writing is something I do for me, at my own speed.
4. Can you tell us a little about how you came to be published?
Like I said earlier, my daughter and niece encouraged me to submit to a publisher. I didn’t really think anything would come of it. I’d submitted to an e-publisher, Whiskey Creek Press, and really knew nothing about on-line publishing or eBooks. My first book with them was on their best sellers list for two consecutive months.
5. Please tell us about Talk Dirty to Me.
It’s a short, hot read about an oil driller who returns home to be best man at his best friend’s wedding. And his best friend’s sister, whose virginity he’d taken the year before. A year apart did nothing to cool the flames of their attraction to one another. They take up where they left off and nothing and nowhere is off limits!
6. How would you describe your heroine Lily? Sassy or easygoing, brash or timid? What is your favorite character type to write so far?
She’s definitely sassy! Lilly isn’t afraid to say what’s on her mind, or to show Blake that she’s still attracted to him. I like writing strong heroines.
Thinking back on the characters I write I guess my favorite character types are men in uniform, and of authority. The detective, firemen, mercenary and marine is the alpha hero types you’ll find in my books.
7. What writing project are you working on now?
I’ve started my third erotic romance, and I’m revising a couple older stories.
8. What is your one guilty pleasure, non-writing related, of course?
Only one? Hmmm…it’s a toss up between Hazelnut ice coffee at McDonalds and Barnie’s Santa’s White Christmas coffee.
9. Can you tell readers where they can find your work online? Website address, blog, links, etc.
My books are offered at Fiction wise, Amazon, All Romance eBooks, Barnes and Nobles, Whiskey Creek Press Torrid, Ellora’s Cave, and soon The Wild Rose Press.
Whiskey Creek Press Torrid – http://whiskeycreekpresstorrid.com/authors/Tory_Richards.shtml
Romance with an Attitude Blog – http://debbiewallace.blogspot.com/
Thank you so much for taking the time to be here, Tory. I wish you many successes in the future.
I can’t thank you enough for inviting me to be your guest, Taylor. It’s been fun!
Lilly has been in love with her brother's best friend Blake for years. She lost her virginity to the oil driller on her eighteenth birthday, only to wake the next morning to find him gone. After he pulled that stunt twice more, she swore never to see or talk to him again. But now he's back for her brother's wedding, and he's as sexy as she remembers.
Blake thinks Lilly's even sexier than ever. Unable to resist one another, they don't make it out of the airport parking lot before taking up where they left off. As the two rediscover their passion for each other, nothing and nowhere is off limits!
Lilly drove her little car around the airport at least twice before finding her way to Southwest arrivals. Parking wasn't allowed so she could only hope Blake was waiting for her somewhere outside. She drove slow, searching through the crowd on the sidewalk for him. Desire churned in her stomach.
And then she saw him.
Her body reacted instantly, thinking about him was one thing but seeing him in the flesh was even more powerful. Awareness exploded through her body, as she remembered all the times and places they'd had hot, naughty sex. How Blake had taken her to paradise a thousand times. Her panties became soaked as she clenched her legs together hoping to ease the need that was becoming unbearable. A pleasant prickling in her full breasts caused her to raise her arm and brush it over them to try to ease some of the ache.
Blake hadn't changed at all. He was still the sexiest man on earth. As she sat there staring at him she felt her breathing become erratic and her heart rate pick up speed.
Blake was six feet tall, and lean. Yet his black polo shirt revealed he wasn't lacking on muscle power. The gray slacks he was wearing gave evidence to the strength in his thighs and stretched across the prominent outline of his cock. He looked dangerous. He was dangerous, only in a way that had always drawn her in.
His dark hair was shorter than he used to wear it, military cut. Lilly couldn't see his eyes for the dark sunglasses covering them, for which she was thankful. Blake had the kind of eyes that could look right through someone, into their very soul.
He's just a man, he's just a man, Lilly repeated to herself. Flesh and blood and as mortal as she was. He had emotions, he could be hurt. He had needs. Her cheeks grew hot when she thought of their last night together, and how they'd made love like two wild animals trying to consume one another. Then he'd left the next morning for an assignment on an oil rig in the North Sea. And she'd tried to convince herself that she hated him ever since.
Not mine, but doesn't that make you just wanna' cry?
Okay, it finally happened today. My laptop is officially having a breakdown. No, really, it squealed at me, and threatened not to power up. The nerve, right?
I feed it info, I keep it dry and a roof over it's spoiled little head. I even buy it treat when I can, Word 2007!
But no, I came home from the store today, turned it on, and it proceeded to yell and scream until I restarted it several times. It's been a tough week, already, let me tell you.
I backed up most of the important stuff, like my most recent edits/rewrites on my books, covers, etc.
The worst of it is, I knew this was coming. Our relationship just hasn't been the same for a while now. And the noise, what's that even mean?
So, I'm doing some online surfing while it's still functioning, hoping and praying that I don't shut it down tonight and have it be the end. I could use a few more months, okay weeks. Hell, I'll settle for days.
I went on a serious diet Sunday. No more regular soda, no more chocolate. Huh, that went out the window as I was backing up files at the kitchen table, stuffing everything I that wasn't nailed down into my mouth, tears dripping from my eyes. I found that coconut brownie Dream Bar in my purse, you know the one from the local coffee shop, the one I bought a few days ago. Hey, it was only two or three days, there's that ten day rule, right? Oh, wait, that's the ten second rule, but who's keeping track, anyway?
So, kiddies, if I disappear longer than usual I'm writing longhand and transcribing at my local library!
Okay, it's not fancy, it's pretty simplistic actually, but I wanted to give an example of my writing progress and how I'm keeping track with an Excel spreadsheet. I'm working on two books, SBB (Vamp erotica) and Her G Man.
These bits of progress probablly don't seem like much to the author who produces big numbers, but coming from someone who just spent a year in writer's hell with a diagnosis of major blockage--well, you can see how I'm grateful for even the little bits of writing I've managed. The little bits, by the way, have turned into blocks of more, and I'm ever so grateful to be working again, and even though I'm only eeking out progress. Hey, it's still progress!
You were ten when I came along
A boy, so young, so strong
We grew up together, you and I
Hunting, stalking, playing, me listening to you talking
You were my best friend, my master, and I lived my life for you
You grew up and left, as men do, but I waited for you
Never giving up, always trusting that you would come home.
When you did, it didn't matter that I was old and gray
I was a pup again, for my master, my friend.
I love you, Grizz.
Rest in peace.
This poem is dedicated to my son and his loving dog, Grizzly. He was 13 years old and had to be put to sleep yesterday. It was the most difficult decision I've ever made in my life, but he was in severe pain and in kidney failure.
He was a loyal friend, and will forever have a place in our hearts.
1. When did you first discover you wanted to be a writer? How long did it take you to be published? Way back in the ninth grade, which was about a hundred years ago it seems. ITNC was the fourth book I wrote, the first one published so just guessing on time I’d say six years.
2. Do you write full-time or part-time? If you do write full time, how do you manage to juggle your time?
Right now only part time, and only when I can find the time. I have three teenagers and a four year old so time to actually sit and write is not something I am familiar with at the moment.
3. If Tomorrow Never Comes is a Cerridwen Press release, can you tell us a bit about it?
ITNC is a light paranormal contemporary about a plus size model who retires to her hometown with plans to go to college. She buys an old Victorian house in poor repair and meets her hunky next door neighbor who just happens to be a contractor and a widower. Almost immediately, she starts having dreams about the man and his deceased wife and child. And that is where the story begins.
4. Writing romantic erotica for Ellora’s Cave is incredibly different than writing for Cerridwen Press, can you tell us a little about how you made the jump into erotic romance?
Hard question. Really, it’s all about the sex, and writing a plot driven story that just happens to be sexy too. ITMC has a couple of steamy scenes, so I wanted to see if I could write a story with a few more steamy scenes.
5. Are you a night owl or an early bird?
Late night, most definitely. My husband works nights and over the years, it’s just been easier to adapt to his schedule. Besides, I like sitting in a dark quite house with nothing but a lamp and the computer for company.
6. Are you a plotter or a pantser? (Do you plot things out or do you fly by the seat of your pants when you write?)
Pantser! I cannot plot a book out to save my life. My people (characters) tell me their story in their own time if I try to plot I feel like I’ve already told the story and there is nothing left to say.
7. Did you choose your genre or did your genre choose you?
I like contemporary and paranormal so it really is a little of both.
8. Can you tell us a little about your new release, Sunny With a Chance?
Sunny Maitland is a therapeutic masseuse who works with accident victims; Ryan Chance is a long time client who was injured in a building collapse. The story starts with Sunny returning to work for him after a six-month absence because she had developed feelings for him. She doesn’t know he is newly divorced or that he had developed the same feelings for her.
9. What writing project are you working on now?
I just finished a witch paranormal that I’m looking for a home for. I have one category length erotica in the works, another contemporary about a vice principal and a motorcycle man. And a new story about a female cop who finds herself dealing with the death of her father and a drifter who is looking for the man who murdered his brother. Right now I don’t know where that one is going.
10. What is your one guilty pleasure, non-writing related, of course?
Right now, I am in pure lust with the TV series Supernatural. I just watched the first four seasons straight through, and shamefully I want to do it again but I think my kids might revolt if I did.
11. Can you tell readers where they can find your work online?
Website address, blog, links, etc. I have a blog at emjaicolbert.blogspot.com and my email address is email@example.com. My books are at Cerridwen Press and Ellora’s cave
Thank you so much for taking the time to be here, Emjai.
Maybe it was kismet that brought Sunny Maitland to Ryan Chance’s doorstep that day. Maybe it was just dumb luck. Sunny had avoided the house and the man for months for fear of falling in love with the one person who was off limits.
Wounded in body and soul, Ryan Chance is surprised when his former masseuse saunters back into his life as if she’d never left. She’d been his savior and confidant when his life was in pieces and then she was gone with no explanation.
Bound by a secret mutual desire, Sunny and Ryan waste no time getting to know each other again, and again, and again one hot, steamy, Southern night.
By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
Ryan felt his breath come rushing back as he sat on his bed and replayed the scene in his head. He hadn’t expected Sunny Maitland to show up today, not after six months of no shows. Sunny with her perky auburn ponytail and blazing amber eyes, was standing on his patio looking for all the world like an angel fallen from heaven… Oh for the love of…you are a fool Ryan Chance, that woman doesn’t want anything to do with a man like you. A man with so much baggage at that.
In the past six months of hell she’d become a fantasy, a fantasy that had gotten him through the divorce, but still a fantasy nonetheless. Didn’t her abandoning him to the hands of a stranger prove that she wanted nothing to do with him? After her quiet companionship, and those hands—he’d fallen for her hands first he realized. She had strong hands, long, slim tapered fingers that did things to him he couldn’t explain. He’d always had feeling in his back, if pain was a feeling, but her hands had transcended the pain, forcing it away little by little. And her voice, she had the calmest, most soothing voice he’d ever heard, and she talked about the craziest things. She liked flowers, he knew that, she talked about her daffodils and tulips each spring and the hydrangea that was as tall as her house. She never talked about his injury except when the doctors had changed his medications or after a new surgery.
Sunny was sunny in every way to him those first dreary months in the hospital, and then she’d followed him home, and he’d come to like the house with her in it. But that was just part of the problem, wasn’t it? He’d become too attached to her and she was just a masseuse, he just a client. He wasn’t a damsel needing a happy ever after.
She wasn’t his guardian angel, sent to talk him through the hell his life had become. She hadn’t known he’d begun to feel things for her, it wasn’t her fault, after all, that she was just a fantasy. A living breathing fantasy whose return had awakened the sleeping dragon. Jesus Christ he was pathetic. Stop it with the fairy tale shit and be a man why don’t you?
With a pathetic laugh at his own foolishness, Ryan shrugged off his t-shirt and shorts but he was not nearly ready to walk back out to the porch in nothing but a towel, or more to the point little Ryan was not in any shape to walk back out in nothing but a towel. His back twinged as he hooked the terry cloth around his waist, grunting as he worked through the stiffness there along with the more embarrassing stiffness threatening below his waist. It usually took her ten minutes or so to set up her things before she was ready to begin. Ryan decided to wait and let throbbing things subside.
Ten minutes passed like lightning. Uncomfortable in his nudity, Ryan walked out onto the patio just in time to see Sunny take off her jacket. She’d never done that before. His hard fight for control began to evaporate with her standing there in nothing but a form-fitting halter top and snug track pants that accentuated every curve of her body.
“It’s hot out here.” She smiled, waving her hands in a fanning motion around her face. “You ready?”
“Uh, would you like to move inside?” Ryan wondered which he craved most, having her hands on him or keeping her as far away as possible for fear of what her hands would do to him.
“No, this is fine, it’s just that I’ve been in air-conditioning all day and I’m not ready for this type of heat so soon. Heck, it isn’t even that far into summer yet.” She draped a sheet over the table for him to lie on. “So what will it be today, hot rocks or deep tissue?”
“Jesus Christ, Sunny.” His brain went into warp drive when her nipples went rigid beneath her top.
"What?” She looked stunned. “Is there a bug on me?”
“No, god no, not a bug. I’m sorry I was playing. I don’t like the stones, remember?” He lied, not knowing how else to cover his stupidity.
“Oh, no, I forgot.” She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “Well okay then, why don’t you climb on up and we’ll get started?”