#CoverReveal From @cattell_jo and Wicked Muse Productions

Hello my peeps! I’m participating in a cover reveal blitz for one of my author friends, Jo Cattell. I met her through a mutual friend the Wicked One herself, Leanore Elliott and the group she started to gather up her favorite readers and authors in one spot. There we laugh and cry together, share our ups and downs and of course our new releases. All of us firmly believe in authors supporting fellow authors and that’s why we’re here today.

In Another Life CoverIn April…wow, just a few short days now…Jo’s new book will be released on Amazon from Jaden Rose Press. In Another Life follows the intense, all consuming love we’ve all felt as teens. Well, some of us get to feel that as adults too. That’s why this book will appeal to all ages. First take a look at this beautiful cover…

 

What do you feel when you see it? Can you feel the emotions between the two? Does it bring you back to a point in your young adult years when being with “the one” was all you thought about?

You can’t deny it. I can tell from here. This cover has you HOOKED!  Me too!

 

Now stop staring at that cover and read the blurb Jo sent to share. If you weren’t blown away by the cover alone, this blurb will take you over the edge. In Another Life lets us get lost in a sweet romance that will warm your heart and leave you begging for more.

Sixteen year old, Annie Kane was dumped by her last boyfriend. It took a long time for her to agree with her friends and find somebody new. When Jim Osborn, the class clown shows up with his best friend, Annie realizes that there’s is something different about his friend, but she can’t figure out what.

Nate Cruz wasn’t like anyone she’d ever known. He’s funny and down to earth, but he also suffers with low self-esteem from being in and out of the hospital.

After Jim tries to force himself on her at a party, Anne finally sees him as he really is and decides to end it. She and Nate become best friends. Then, a kiss changes it all.

With Nate, she sees what love really means. She learns how wonderful life can be and how at any time, things can change without warning. If she’d stayed in her safe, little world, Annie would have missed her chance at love. But because of an irresistible attraction for a boy, she just couldn’t forget? She finds out what she’s really made of and what’s it’s like— living in another life.

About the Author

Jo Cattel“Characters are not created by writers. They preexist and need to be found”

I’m an author, mother, friend. My dreams inspire me, my children drive me. I’m a
free spirit, a dreamer, a lover of life, and a loyal friend. I live In New Jersey with my husband Eric, and two daughters Amber and Jade. My first novel, When Angels Fall was inspired by a dream and also the loss of my niece, came out in November 2012 and was the first in my “Fallen Angel Series.” The second book After Angels Fall was release New Years Day of 2013. In Another Life was inspired by a relationship I was in as a teenager. We only have one chance to have a first love. Mine was someone who taught me how important life is and never to take anyone for granted. To see a person for who they really are on the inside and not just for what shows on the outside.

For more information stop by my blog, http://jcattell.blogspot.com/ and look for my books at Amazon.com

 

 

@Nblackthorne Shares Her Latest #Erotic #Regency #Historical

I’m very excited to open up Behind Closed Doors again this week for a fellow author and dear friend Natasha Blackthorne.  After several published books under her belt, and more than a little bit of prodding from yours truly, she’s finally jumped on into the world of self-publishing.  Today she shares an excerpt from the first chapter of Her Mystery Duke. 

If you love erotic Regency historicals, you’ll want to have this one for your collection of MUST READS. Natasha’s heroine is also like me—a bit curvy in all the right places—what’s referred to as a “Rubenesque heroine.” She’s the epitome of the classical beauty. She’s big, beautiful and ALL woman. More and more writer’s are choosing to write about heroines (and heroes) with a bit more meat on their bones. Ms. Blackthorne happens to place her characters in a fabulous historical setting completing the overall fantasy package. I’m sold already. How about you? Would you like to learn more?

Here you go my little chickadees. Enjoy!

Blurb

Her Mystery Duke CoverIs he insane? Or is he the answer to all her naughty dreams?

Jeanne Darling spent her adolescence coping with her father’s increasing illness and insanity. Left alone by his death and plunged into poverty, she did what she had to do to survive. Now still reeling from the overwhelming physical and emotional demands her father’s care required, she values her peace above all. She doesn’t need anyone or anything except her writing and the safety of her rented garret chamber. She’s about to rise above her past and create financial independence for herself. What she absolutely does not need is the mysterious and possibly insane stranger who walks into the coffee shop and into her life.

David Somerville, the Duke of Hartley, has known pain and betrayal from the people closest to him. Born to privilege, power and wealth, and filled with idealistic vision for humane change, he gives all of himself to his political career. He keeps his life circumspectly under control. But one day, all the carefully arranged threads of his life unravel and his life intersects with Jeanne’s in a way that challenges his view of everything he thinks he knows.

Leagues apart in society, they can have only one possible future, that of protector and mistress. And neither wants to risk deeper connection. However, their overwhelming attraction and resulting sexual games provide them with pleasures neither of them has ever known. Will their sensual journey lead them to discover a more emotionally profound side to domination and submission? Or will their seemingly insurmountable differences and passionate personal goals drive them apart?

Reader Warning: Her Mystery Duke is a work of historical erotic romance. It is not meant to be a guide to or an accurate portrayal of modern BDSM lifestyles or practices. This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts and frank sexual language. It also contains light bondage, anal play, sexual toys, cunnilingus, fellatio, masturbation, voyeurism and spanking. Please be aware, there are no scenes of ménage or sexual sharing in this story.

 

Chapter 1

Indecent. The tall gentleman’s stare was the most blatantly indecent assault Jeanne had ever encountered. Deeper than intense. Intimate, as if he knew everything thing about her.

That penetrating gaze set her palms sweating and made her mouth dry. It was a direct threat. No one could possibly know her. She kept herself too well protected, hidden beneath layers of aloof disinterest. Yet she found herself unable to look away. She just sat there and let that gaze burn her. Burn through the wall she kept between herself and the world. It even seeped under her skin and melted her blood into warmed honey.

A single pane of rain-splattered glass separated them. The thudding of her heart in her ears blocked out the sounds from the common room of the coffee shop and created a sense of isolation.

He wore no hat and his hair lay plastered like spilt black ink streaked across his high, broad forehead. Rain dripped over hard chiseled cheekbones, down an aquiline nose and square jaw, over shoulders that were made even more impossibly broad by a dark blue greatcoat.

He was like something from a dream. A harlot’s very naughty dream.

Oh really. A handsome, mysterious stranger, one who was intensely interested in her and seemed to know all about her? Her imagination was running away with her, taking a life of its own. She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. The wine hadn’t been that strong as to make her conjure carnal fantasies in mid-afternoon. In public. She dared to look again.

The tall gentleman was gone.

There, see? An author of fairy stories couldn’t be fooled by a waking dream. And yet cold, heaviness sank through her insides, a feeling of loss. How utterly ridiculous. Irritated with herself, Jeanne bent over her mug, inhaling the fruity, spicy scent of mulled wine, and listened to the low rumble of conversations around her. Mrs. Roberts had a new blue bonnet and she was preening like a peacock. Mr. Taylor announced to his friends that he’d just become engaged to Miss Smith and his companions were alternately ribbing and toasting him.
Once a week, she ventured from her garret to this little coffee shop to be among people, as an observer. A customer, keeping a protective distance.

“Miss Darling.”The slightly nervous, boyish voice broke into her peace. “You usually come here on Saturday.”

She forced the irritation from her expression and looked up to meet his freckled face. “Yes, Paul, this week I decided on a change.”

She kept her tone cool and polite, as always.

Mr. Ratherford, her publisher, had sent a note, informing her that she must present herself at his offices and bring the fairy tales he’d requested. As an author of children’s stories, she’d been working for months on the stories but she still had one more story to write, the grand finale in a leather bound volume of the stories that she hoped to have printed. However, she’d been unable to write for several weeks. The harder she tried to create a story, the less she liked anything she wrote. Today, that note had put her into a state of desperation. She’d come here to try and stimulate her mind. It had worked a little too well judging from the daydream of the handsome, mysterious stranger.

“A special occasion?” Paul’s words cut into her thoughts again.

Oh bother! She took a deep breath and struggled to find more patience. Once Paul Cook started, he never let up. But he was just a boy, and a kind one at that. She bit back an impatient response.

Her concentration, her peace, however: they were gone. Never mind. The wind was howling with more intensity outside, and the winter’s day was growing dark far too early. It was time to leave.

As she reached down to retrieve her reticule, the odor of wet wool intruded on her senses, mingled with the citrus-soapy scent of a gentleman’s shaving lotion. A body close to hers. Too close. She jerked her head up and faced a waking dream.

His greatcoat was opened to reveal a fine, silk, embroidered waistcoat that encompassed a broad chest, which narrowed into a flat-as-boards stomach. Water dripped from his hair, leaving wet spots on his hopelessly crushed cravat. He didn’t seem to be aware of his dishevelment.

She met his eyes. His gaze intensified, turning to brilliant, intimidating greenish fire, like an emerald catching the sunlight. Thick, dark lashes and heavy black brows made the color appear even richer.

“Thérèse.”
His voice was deep yet hushed and utterly masculine. It sent another curl of heat through her, stronger, penetrating all the way down from her chest to her navel and into her womb. However, it was the note of despair that made her catch her breath.

Pressure swelled in her throat, a pang of sympathy. Sympathy for others was the most dangerous emotion of all. It could lead one to make painful, unwise sacrifices.

She’d never had such an immediate reaction like this to any man. Tingles raced from her midsection to her toes, not arousal this time but an urge to run. He was dangerous.

And Thérèse? Clearly he was grossly mistaken. Or foxed.

She stood, then took a deep breath, released it and raised her brows up in a haughty mask.“Pardon me, sir?”

His expression sharpened. He took her arm, harshly. “Don’t toy with me.”

She pulled back and he tightened his grip. His hand was large. His hold stronger than any gentleman she’d known.

He leaned so close she could have brushed her lips against his. “Don’t pretend that you don’t know me?”

His deep, hushed voice sent pleasurable shivers through her but Jeanne pushed the sensation aside. As his breath wafted over her, she inhaled deeply but couldn’t detect any odor of spirits. Prickles raced over her scalp like a thousand needles.

Perhaps the gentleman wasn’t in full control over his mental faculties. Dear God. Just like Papa. She’d spent her youth caring for her father in his varying stages of insanity. Life with him had become a prison. Since his death, she had lived in fear of the unbalanced. Now she’d become the target of a stranger’s madness. Another series of prickles raced over her scalp.

She met the stranger’s gaze levelly. “What’s your game?”

“Thérèse, don‘t be this way.” His whisper, laced with steel, was so low, that she unwittingly leaned closer. “We needn’t make any dramatics here. We’re going home.”

This near to him, Jeanne noted the glassiness of his eyes. Again, she sniffed. No hint of alcohol. But then again, having experienced all of Papa’s variances of sanity, she had an instinct for spotting others who were likewise afflicted. This man was definitely afflicted in his mind.

This was the exact situation she always dreaded. Since her girlhood, she always watched others, seeking any sign of madness. She’d had to cope with Papa, that had been her duty, but she was always careful to keep others who showed any inkling of mental instability at a safe distance. How stupid of her to have let herself be distracted by this man’s masculine beauty.

Angry at herself, she jerked her arm, trying once again to free herself. His grip remained relentless.

“Thérèse!” Again, the low steely whisper. “Behave yourself.”

How unwise of her. An insane person could react unpredictably. She ought not provoke him. Yet she knew it was important to present a strong, confident front.

“Sir, I am not your Thérèse and have no wish to be. So please unhand me.” Her heart was hammering at her chest wall so violently, she had trouble keeping her voice even. She lifted her chin and stared at him steadily. “Now.”

“You are deliberately pushing me, Thérèse. I don’t appreciate it.”

Boots sounded on the floorboards. The sound drew her attention to how quiet the public room had become. She glanced around. The other patrons were staring.

“Miss Darling, is everything all right?”

The tall gentleman turned to Paul and regarded him with an icy, haughty stare. “The lady is a friend. Please go back to your counter and mind your business.”

At the velvet over iron tone, the young man’s eyes grew round. He took one step backward and then another, then stood looking uneasy.

“Are you having a spot of trouble here, Miss Darling?”

Jeanne turned to face the shop owner, a large, barrel-chested man.

The stranger exhaled long and loud. A sound of complete exasperation. “As I told the boy, the lady is a rather close friend. I would appreciate a little privacy.”

The shop owner turned to her. “Miss Darling?”

Her heart froze and her chest constricted. She placed a hand to her throat. She didn’t know what to say.

“The gent don’t look right to me.”The owner’s wife squinted at the stranger.

Jeanne glanced at the gentleman’s handsome profile and the proud jut of his jaw. He gazed at her sideways and she caught her breath. There was something about that brief gaze. A lost, disorientated air. Just like Papa when he had been in one of his worst spells and he was trying to hide it by acting arrogantly assertive.
But she had seen. The stranger was truly not in his right mind.

He swayed then braced his hands on the back of the chair and caught himself. Arrogance fell over his face like a mask.

Jeanne’s throat ached. He was so vulnerable. So alone.

Mrs. Cook motioned to the chair Jeanne had vacated. “Sir, you better sit.”

The gentleman stared at the matron, well, rather he glowered down his nose at her. “If you please, the lady and I have some personal business to attend to.”

His eyes jerked from side to side. At the alarming motion, Jeanne started.He seemed to lurch forward. She looked down and saw his hands gripping the chair back. The knuckles were white. The ache in her throat increased.

“Paul.”

Jeanne glanced back at Mrs.Cook. The woman wrinkled her forehead. “Go fetch Dr. Miller.”

Paul walked to the door.

“Quickly now.” Mrs. Cook’s voice carried urgency and she made a shooing motion.

A doctor.

Memories rose in Jeanne’s mind. Her father screaming, his face contorted in torment as the doctor painted yet another mustard plaster on his skin in an attempt to draw the poisonous humors out. The endless purges and emetics. None of it doing anything to cure Papa’s mad fits and mental lapses. And then finally, the insane asylum.

But that was how people dealt with madness. It would be how they would deal with this obviously touched gentleman. As if her stays had suddenly shrunk, her chest constricted. No, no, it wasn’t her place to step out of her way to aid this gentleman. He wasn’t her responsibility. She owed him nothing. Her breathing came shorter, faster. It wasn’t safe to stick one’s neck out. And yet the words rose. She tried to hold them back but they burst out, “There‘s no need for a doctor.”

Mrs. Cook frowned deeper. “But he called you Thérèse, that’s a French girl’s name, not yours.”

“He is calling me by my middle name.” Jeanne held her breath and waited to see if this lie would be accepted.

Mrs. Cook blinked several times. “You have a French middle name?”

“Yes. My mother’s mother was French.” Another lie.

The matron’s eyes narrowed. “Just how does this gentleman know you? He seems very well off to be on familiar terms with a decent girl from around here.”

Jeanne caught herself biting her lip. She quickly released it and gave the first answer that came to mind. “He’s my cousin, on my mother’s side, twice removed.”

Again, Mrs. Cook blinked a few times. Then her mouth twisted until she looked like she’d just tasted a particularly sour lemon.

“My cousin is not well.”

“Apparently. More likely drunk as a lord.” Mrs. Cook’s tone became sourer than her expression. “I don’t like this.”

“Pardon me?”Jeanne tried for genteel outrage.

Mrs. Cook’s tone became sharper. “I have known you since you started coming here on Saturdays with your Papa. I always thought you were such a dedicated daughter. A good girl. But I don’t like having fancy pieces courting trade in my shop.”

“Mrs. Cook, this man is my cousin.”

“A wealthy relation who didn’t help you when your dear Papa was ill?”

“My cousin was out of the country at that time—he was in India, making his fortune.”

Mrs. Cook looked from Jeanne to the gentleman and back. Several times. “I don’t see any family resemblance.”

Jeanne swallowed against a tightening throat. Could everyone hear the pounding of her heart? “I favor my father’s side. H-he is my cousin.”

Her voice came out so strained that she cringed internally.

The matron’s expression hardened. “I think you met this gentleman under less than respectable conditions. Perhaps in a place where you’re known by a false name, a fancy French name to make yourself sound more interesting to wealthy gentlemen.”

Jeanne’s mouth dried and anxiety twisted her insides. “That’s not how it happened.”

“I’d appreciate if you took your cousin and left. I’d also appreciate if you never came back. I run a decent shop here, not a place of disorderly assignation.”

Jeanne sucked in a deep breath. That had hurt. More than she wished to admit. This was her place of comfort and respite when her isolation became too much. And she was a horrible liar. But what else could she have done? Consigned this gentleman to Bedlam? Oh God. She’d known he was dangerous. Why hadn’t she listened to that inner voice?

She glanced up at the gentleman. He was gazing at her with an odd, confused expression. Were his eyes a bit glassy? Might he be ill, instead of insane? Surely, if he were that ill, he’d be in bed.

She reached a hand to him. “Let’s leave.”

The gentleman released the chair then took her hand and laced his fingers with hers as naturally as if he’d always done so. “Come, Thérèse.”

They walked sedately out of the coffee shop, just like that, with their gloved hands intertwined.

The rain had let up yet the wind still gusted. With her free hand, she readjusted her scarf. His hold remained firm on her hand until they had traveled a block away. The strength of his grip sent prickles of fear darting into her. He could easily overpower her, if his insane whim so dictated.

He stopped just as they were about to turn the corner, and he looked down at her. A slight smile softened his mouth. “My darling.”

Dear heavens, he was such a gorgeous man. Dangerous, utterly dangerous. But he was still a madman. Any sensible person knew well to be frightened of the insane, she more than anyone. She returned his smile but only to placate him.

“Are we headed in the proper direction for the mews?” he asked.

“Yes, we are. They are just down this street and to the right.”

“Esau has the carriage there.”

Well, there it was. She’d done her part keeping him out of the clutches of an overzealous doctor. God and this Esau fellow would have to watch over him now. She wasn’t about to get anywhere near his carriage and risk him shoving her bodily into it.

She offered another, hopefully warm, smile.

She must have succeeded for he relaxed his grip on her hand and they resumed walking. As they rounded the corner, she slipped her hand from his.

And ran.

“Thérèse!”

Her heart pounded and she ran faster.

“Stop, please. For the love of God!” His tone was hollow with desolation. Her sympathy panged her yet again. Unwittingly, she glanced over her shoulder.

Wind whipped the gentleman’s dark forelock. He leaned against a street lamp, one hand holding his side. He appeared to be panting for breath, his expression a mask of loss and despair.

Just like Papa. She’d seen those emotions on her father’s face too many times. But the expression appeared so out of place on such an arrogant, masculine face. Her heart constricted. She turned to face the direction she was running and put all her energy into it.

Something came between her foot and the pavement. She lost her balance and fell forward. As the bricks rose to meet her, she threw her hands out to brace her fall. She cried out then reeled from the fall. Her arm began to burn like fire. She knew she wouldn’t be able to run easily for much longer.

She hauled herself to her feet and scanned the shop fronts.

Mrs. Mason’s Bakery.

Relief washed over her. Mrs. Mason had always been friendly. She had even given her day-old bread, on days when she couldn’t pay.

She darted into the shop and the scent of baking bread and spicy cinnamon and apples comforted her.

“Good day, Miss Darling!” Mrs. Mason sang out. “What shall it be today?

“I think I shall have whatever smells of apples and spice.”

“You sit and I’ll bring it right out.”

Jeanne sank into the nearest chair. Moments later, Mrs. Mason brought hot tea and apple pie. But Jeanne found the pie tasted like ashes and could only manage a few tiny bites. Unable to stop twitching and fidgeting, she kept catching herself glancing back at the window.

She jerked her head away.

No, don’t look. He is not your affair.

She forced herself to focus on Mrs. Mason’s steady chatter. The wind made a long, low, threatening howling sound. Such a dreadful day. What about—

No, he isn’t your responsibility.

A loud crash seemed to rumble through her body and shake her bones and resound in the pit of her stomach.

What happened? An accident? A carriage trying to avoid a disorientated pedestrian and yet hitting them all the same?

She jumped to her feet and rushed to the window. Some crates had blown over. Men were shouting and running about. The sky had grown darker.

Against all her caution, her gaze was drawn back to the direction whence she had come.

Oh God, there he was, staggering down the street in a wavering pattern. For such a stalwart-looking man, the gentleman walked so oddly, so slowly. Had he been in the war perhaps and suffered some irreparable head injury that had left him this way?

Almost completely in front of the shop, he glanced up. He had that lost, desolate look.

Her throat burned.

His gaze sharpened. Honed in on her.

Oh, damn. How stupid of her. Of course, he’d seen her at the window. She stepped back several paces. But it was too late. He began walking toward the door.

“Isn’t it just dreadful weather, Miss Darling?” Mrs. Mason exclaimed. “My Ben can take you home in the gig later, if you like. Come sit back down and have a chat.”

Jeanne didn’t answer, her gaze was fixed on the gentleman as he reached for the door. He was coming in. And he looked absolutely furious, in a cold, controlled way that was all the more frightening. Her hand flew to her mouth to stop the cry of protest that sprung from the depths of her and she backed away from the window.

The little bell tinkled as he entered, an incongruously gay herald. His eyes blazed into hers. She gave a little squeak and took several steps backwards until her bottom hit one of the display cases.

* * * *

Her Mystery Duke Cover

Where to Find Her Mystery Duke

Amazon

Amazon UK

Smashwords

Special message from Natasha: As a bonus, two erotic Regency era romances from my backlist, A MEASURED RISK and GREY’S LADY, are both on sale at Amazon and All Romance E-Books for .99 for a limited time.

Natasha Blackthorne banner

About the Author

Natasha writes emotional, evocative, erotic historical romance featuring non-traditional and unconventional situations. Her stories are most frequently about the internal journey of the characters as they learn to open their hearts to love.

Her heroines are not perfect ladies. They are wildflowers and wallflowers who enjoy flirting with the forbidden. Whether they are bold or shy, her heroines’ strong desires and deep emotions drive the plot and drive their heroes to the point of no return.

“I haven’t been disappointed with a Natasha Blackthorne historical romance as of yet…the men, yes..they are strong and dominant, but they also support their women in everything. These men are written with strength and purpose… Thank you Natasha for helping me love historical romance once again.”— Salacious Reads

Connect with Natasha

Website

Blog

Twitter

Facebook

#Oh My! @tiffcarmouche Gives Us a Sneak Peek into the World of Her Alaska Trilogy #romance #suspense

Instead of dreading Mondays, I decided to take them back and make the day into something fun. What better way than to invite fellow authors to share sneak peeks at their latest WIP or new releases. This week for Oh My! Monday, I’m excited to have with us romantic suspense author Tiffany Carmouche and the second book in her Alaska Trilogy.

ECoverFinalRoseLG-TheImposterThe first book The Impostor, introduces us to Nicole, a young single mother, who escapes an abusive ex-boyfriend and leaves behind the broken dreams of becoming an artist. She travels to Alaska, a place she knows little about, on a journey of self-discovery.

Nicole is scared of getting hurt again, but Dylan’s chiseled body, chocolate-brown eyes and charm captivate her. She begins to fall in love. In Alaska, she discovers the power of friendship and true love and starts to let down her guard. But is her security a facade?

Soon Nicole’s innocent beauty taunts a sinister man, and she is caught in a web of deception and danger. Someone evil is stalking her. Someone she had trusted. Will she be saved? Or will she be hunted?

 

ECoverFinalLG-ObsessionAndSacrificeThe second book in the trilogy, Obsession and Sacrifice, promises even more suspense and intrigue.When Nichole wakes up in the hospital room from a coma, she has no memory of who she is or how she got there. Only the scars on her body reveal some horrific event took place and she is lucky to be alive…alive…but could she still be in danger?

Her only hope to rediscover her past and avoid a killer’s obsession lies in the hands of two men: sexy Dylan, her boyfriend, who used to captivate her and now prays she will remember how much they cared for one another, and Bradley, her charming best friend, who has secretly loved her all along. She feels safe around both men, but to her, they are strangers. Nicole must decide who to trust, not only with her heart, but with her life.

They are rivals–both men want to win her love. But they are allies as well. The two vow to give her a second chance at life and both will sacrifice everything to make sure she survives.

Wow! Those covers alone grabbed my attention. How about you? Do you want to learn more? Here’s a little teaser excerpt from Obsession and Sacrifice that promises to pique more than just your interest. 😉

…He laid her down on top of the covers so he could see her every curve, her every breath, her every desire. He wanted her, wanted her so badly.

He watched her gently pant as she lie waiting for him to take her. She was his. A mixture of the lustful passion and the genuine love he felt for her made the adrenaline race through his veins like a raging river. He wanted to cherish every moment, every inch of her body, every kiss because it could be their last.

“My body has craved your body.” He leaned over, brushing his hand over her hair so he could look in to her eyes as their lips met. “Every minute,” he gently kissed her again. “Of every day,” his kisses grew even more passionate and he pulled away almost teasing her, “since you last made love to me.”

He lowered himself to her, whispering in between kisses. “You. Are. Simply. Delicious.”

He caressed her breast and his tongue obeyed each nipple’s cry to be tasted. His warm mouth covered them, and they melted to his tongue like cotton candy. As he gently sucked her nipples, her body stirred as he teased. Sighing with obsession, she ran her fingers through his hair again.

As he traveled her body with his tongue, he continued down her tight abdomen, gently nibbling on the sides of her little waist. Tickling her and awakening all of her senses, he arrived again at the lace covering her essence. The scent of her arousal filled his nostrils as his fingers slid beneath the fabric feeling the juices of her passion. As his fingers slid over her clitoris, she jumped. Her body trembled and she swallowed hard.

He tenderly slid her panties down her thighs and off her body, spreading her legs as his tongue slowly entered her again, gently sucking her clitoris. She squirmed in delight, clenching onto the covers below her. The tip of her toes curled as she shivered. Goosebumps traveled up her body. “Aaa,” she softly sighed, as he stimulated her again…

If you want more of these books, you’ll have to pick up your own copies. They’re available on Amazon right now. Tiffany will also be visiting my sister blog Sassy Vixen Publishing on Saturday March 30th for an author spotlight. Let’s see if we can tease a bit more out of her about her books!

Blank white book w/path

 

Fan Created YouTube Video for The Impostor 

 

About the Author

Tiffany author picture B&WWhen Tiffany Carmouché is not writing romance novels, you can find her sculpting, traveling, teaching, singing, dancing, escaping in music or enjoying her family.

From skydiving in Alaska to scuba diving in Hawaii, Carmouché has traveled the worls seeking adventure. These include riding camels in Africa, swimming under the stars in Puerto Rico, dancing salsa in Ecuador, and walking the cobblestone roads of Assisi, Italy. She has also found fulfillment working with the disabled and orphans in Argentina and Mexico. Her most cherished moments, however, have been watching her two beautiful daughters grow and strive to accomplish their own dreams.

Despite all of these amazing experiences, she has survived many struggles. There was a time she felt defeated, but now she is recommitted to savoring experiences both in the novels she writes and in the life she lives each day. Her secret hope is that anyone who is struggling will realize there is a light at the end of the tunnel and no matter how hard the fight, no matter how many times they have been knocked down, it is always worth staggering up to their feet and learning to breathe again.

Where to Find Tiffany

Website

Twitter

Fan Club

Facebook Author Page

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

 

Using My Poetry as an Outline for Another Series

Released February 22, 2013

Available from Smashwords and Amazon

With the release of The Courtship of the Vampyre a few weeks ago, I’ve got to enjoy the ride at the top of the Amazon hot new release lists for epic poetry all this time. It’s been a fantastic experience and the little book is still in the top 100 in the epic poetry category for sales. Now that may not mean much to many of you out there, but it’s a big pat on the back for this author. It means people are actually taking a look at my work. Based on the feedback so far, they like it too. Double bonus!

While writing this group of poems, I found myself drawn to the characters and the story lines that will make up my new series called The Kayne Legacy. At first I wanted to just tell the tale of how the first vampires came to be, and how in my world there are actually two different kinds. One group called the Guardians of the Night are the Vampyre Elite and are charged with protecting the essence of the Tree of Life which courses through their veins.  They are direct descendants of the First Born, Cain. The second group are the ones actually cursed to walk the night and are lead by the seventh son of Adam who I call Malachi. He is the one who receives the curse he felt should have been put on Cain for killing Abel. In my world, Abel’s death was indeed an accident and Abel was not all that innocent in the whole thing.  Think of the favorite child in the family who could never do anything wrong in the eyes of his parents, but in actuality caused a lot of strive with his siblings. That would be Abel.

If you read the poems in this book, you will see the basic story of these creatures but it will be in the novels where you will get to meet them all, love or hate them as you choose, and of course root for the side you hope wins out in the end.

Updated cover for my first book of poetry

Updated cover for my first book of poetry

Now with the first book of poetry Follow Me: Poetry from the Heart and Soul I wrote about my own journey through life trying to find myself after being torn apart from heartache and betrayal. I didn’t realize it at the time, but a few of those poems are now serving as guides to other books I’ll write as Lia Michaels. One of the poems was actually the wedding vows for the couple in For the Love of Quinn.  This all had me thinking about compiling another book of poems to go along with “The Vixen, the Witch, and the Daemon” to help tell the tales that will be in The Songs of Fate series. With witches, fae, shape shifters, and other magical creatures, there is so much material to organize. What better way than with my poetry? It’s worked for me twice now. LOL! Might as well stick with what’s working. If it ain’t broke… 😉

 

As always, thank you all for coming on this journey with me. Without your support, I wouldn’t be where I am today and surely wouldn’t be enjoying it as much!

~Tammy