As many of you know, I write under different pen names in order to write in many different genres. As myself, I write poetry, erotica and erotic romance. As Lia Michaels I get to explore more of the erotica and erotic romance subgenres by writing menage, BDSM and GLBT pairings. Basically, Lia likes all things most people consider taboo. Now I’ve decided to bring a new personality/alter ego into the fold. Stephanie Ryan will take over my manuscripts that are meant for the young adult crowd, mainstream fiction and romance (nonerotic).
As with my current blogs, both Lia and Stephanie have days to host guest authors. The three of us make up the core set of authors that is Sassy Vixen Publishing. Confused? LOL Sometimes I am too, but overall it’s a blast having these alter egos.
This is the photo I’ve used for Lia Michaels. Her website/blog is called
This is the photo I chose for Stephanie Ryan. I thought one of us should have the long brown hair since both Lia and myself have the short and sassy styles. LOL! Steph’s website/blog is Through Stephanies Eyes.
So stop in and tell them both hello and help them build up their followings by signing up for their blogs and spreading the word about them. Thank you all for your continued support of my dream!
I’ve never been too fond of Mondays until I started up Oh My! Mondays to showcase steamy hot excerpts from some fantastic authors. This week I’m thrilled to welcome back to Behind Closed Doors, my friend and fellow Siren author, Amber Lea Easton. Today she’s sharing an excerpt that will melt your panties off and leave you begging for more. Would you risk it all for a chance to get your happily ever after or are you the type who is afraid to take any chances at all? Let’s see what Amber has to say about taking risks…
Available now from Bookstrand
Risk: a word that terrifies some people. Artists take risks when they put their heart on display for the world to judge. Policemen, firefighters, and military take risks when they rush in when we’re rushing out. We human beings take risks all the time whether we’re conscious of it or not–when we decide to call the guy back, make eye contact with that hottie we’ve been daydreaming about for weeks, quit our jobs for something better, leave a relationship that’s comfortable for the unknown, buy that dress that’s more seductive than our “usual style” or reinvent ourselves so we can live the life we’ve always dreamed. All of those are risks that may not be life-threatening, but can certainly feel like it. In Riptide, my hero and heroine have learned the hard way that people lie, that betrayal is too easy for some, but they risk being hurt again when they open their hearts to one another. That’s what love is about…trusting one other person with your raw and open heart, letting go of the fear of rejection for that adrenaline rush, breaking down the walls that protect you, and risking it all for your chance at happily ever after. It’s not easy ..but, as they saying goes, nothing worthwhile ever is.
Blurb from Riptide
One violent night shatters Lauren Biltmore’s life. As an anchorwoman, she’s accustomed to reporting the news rather than being the lead story. She escapes the spotlight by fleeing to her brother’s home in the Cayman Islands. Haunted by nightmares, all she wants is a distraction from reality.
Distraction arrives via sexy screenwriter Noah Reynolds. His take-me-to-bed looks mask a past ripe with scandal. He knows he should stay away from Lauren, especially when the worst night of her life unlocks his writer’s block and while he’s dealing with a stalker of his own, but ethics are his weakness.
Attraction sizzles beneath Caribbean sunshine. As their relationship grows, Noah’s stalker intensifies her torment. Lauren wonders if her paranoia is justified or a carryover from her past. What’s real? What’s imagined?
Tentative trust is tested as their love is swept up against a riptide of deceit, murder, and revenge.
Adult Excerpt
“Hey, sexy lady.” He sat behind her, pulled her between his legs and rested his chin on her shoulder. “What do you think of my boat now?”
She sipped her wine before tilting her head to look at him. “There’s more to it than meets the eye, kind of like the captain.”
“Captain, huh?” He moved her hair and kissed the back of her neck. “I don’t suppose I could get you to call me sir for a few hours?”
“Oh, I see what your game is.” She laughed and leaned her head back to allow him easier access to her neck. “Whatever you say, sir. Your boat, your rules.”
“Good answer.” His mouth toyed with her earlobe. “I like having you all to myself. Seems like we’re always interrupted at the house.”
She twisted her head to look him in the eye. “Are you thinking about the house?”
“Not right now.” He brushed her hair from her face. Damn, she was beautiful.
He kissed her neck. She tasted like salt air and citrus. He unzipped her dress and smoothed his hands over her bare back. When his fingers slipped over her ribs, he heard her sharp intake of breath. Smiling against her neck, he moved his hands over her breasts. Squeezed. His mouth toyed with her ear. He liked the way her breasts filled his hands perfectly, as if they were made for him.
He kissed the line of her jaw as his hands slid over her flat abdomen. He felt the scar and traced it with his thumbs before sliding his hands back over her breasts.
Her hand gripped the back of his head as she ground her lips against his. Her mouth was wet and urgent beneath his, her tongue insistent.
He pulled the dress from her shoulders before pushing her down. Dragging his mouth from hers, he raised up enough to look down at her bare torso. Stunned by the intensity of emotion that flooded through him, he buried his face between her breasts and pinned her wrists against her sides.
Wine spilled. Both the bottle and glasses rolled toward the edge.
His mouth made love to first one breast and then the other. He savored every inch of her skin. She squirmed beneath him, but he refused to release her wrists. She needed to surrender, to enjoy being worshipped.
“Noah, please,” she said, her squirming making him insane with desire. “I need you inside me. Please. You’re torturing me.”
He slid down, his teeth pulled at the silky material of her panties. He released her wrists and moved his hands over her naked torso as his teeth worked her panties lower over her hips.
“Damn it, Noah. You’re killing me.”
He smiled against her hipbone. “Relax. We’re gonna get there.”
He pulled her panties and her dress from her legs and tossed them aside without looking away from her body. He ran his hands up her long legs, kissed the inside of her knees, licked the inside of her thighs, tasted the center of her, felt her body contract around his fingers as he slid them inside her. Wet and hot, she tasted sweet and intoxicating.
Her body arched beneath his mouth. Her hands were in his hair. She moaned his name over and over.
He kissed a trail over her abdomen, lingered again on her breasts, moved to her neck before merging his mouth with hers. She pulled his shirt off of his shoulders while he fumbled with the zipper of his shorts with one hand. Muttering something against his mouth, she pushed hard until he rolled onto his back, taking her with him.
She bent over him, hair trailing across his face as she kissed his neck and chest. Her hands pulled his shorts low, reached for his penis before her tongue licked the tip. He rolled his head back and gasped for air.
“Condom in my pocket,” he said between gritted teeth.
She knelt over him, hair blowing across her face as she rummaged in the pocket of his shorts for the condom.
“Give it here.” Propped on an elbow, he grabbed the package and ripped it open. Damn, he needed to be inside this woman with an urgency he hadn’t felt in years—if ever. The need pulsated through his veins and reverberated in his ears.
And then she was on him, rocking, hair blowing across her face, hands pressing against his chest, breasts moving with her rhythm, body silhouetted by stars in a night sky. She looked like a sea goddess having her way with him. He grabbed her waist and ground his hips against hers. She leaned over and kissed him with an urgency that shook him like an earthquake.
He rolled her back over and thrust into her again and again, needing to go deep. They were a tangle of limbs as their bodies merged in a desperate dance. Mouths found one another. Breath caught between them. When he climaxed, he let out a shout. She laughed—breathless—her nails scratching down his back.
“I can’t get enough of you.” Her breath brushed against the sweat of his neck.
“I know what you mean.” He muttered against the top of her head. “Damn, I want to do that again.” He kissed her forehead. “And again.” He kissed her lips and lingered. “And again.”
“Stay inside me. Don’t move.” She fisted her hands in his hair and looked him in the eye. “I think my dress blew overboard.”
He laughed, enjoying the feel of her legs still wrapped around him. “Do you care?”
“Not even a little bit.” She kissed him, eyes wide open.
He held her head close and looked into her eyes. Despite everything—her history, the note on his door, the mess he was in, her pain from the past and uncertainty about the future—she was brave enough to be here with him naked on the bow of his boat surrounded by deep water and darkness.
“I was right that day at The Lazy Turtle when I said you were dangerous,” he said against her lips. “You’re the most dangerous woman I’ve ever met.”
Didn’t I tell you? Melted your panties off didn’t it? (fanning self) Want a bit more of Riptide? Check out the video trailer. Buckle up! This will knock you off your feet!
Amber Lea Easton is a multi-published fiction and nonfiction author. For twenty years, she’s worked in the fields of journalism and advertising with a brief detour into the financial industry. Although she holds a BA in Communications & Journalism, she is a perpetual student of life who enjoys taking post-graduate courses on a wide variety of subjects when time allows. Smart is sexy, according to Easton, which is why she writes about strong female characters who have their flaws and challenges, but who ultimately persevere.
Easton currently lives with her two teenagers in the Colorado Rocky Mountains where she gives thanks daily for the gorgeous view outside her window. She finds inspiration from traveling, the people she meets, nature and life’s twists and turns. At the end of the day, as long as she’s writing, she considers herself to be simply “a lucky lady liv’n the dream.”
Thank you for sharing with us today, Amber! For those of you who want another look at Riptide, head over to my sister blog Sassy Vixen Publishing on August 9th when she shares the first thirteen sentences of the book. And yeah…they are SMOKIN’! See ya there! ~Tammy
Author Amber Lea Easton sits down with her characters in Kiss Me Slowly to find out what brought them together and how they had to work through some old baggage in order to work together. Let’s check in with them now…
Setting: Sidewalk cafe in South Beach, Miami, Florida. Humidity is heavy in the air. Mojitos are flowing faster than the bartender can make them. Snowbirds are descending on Florida for the holiday season and flocking on the beach at our backs. The scent of grilled hamburgers mixes with the smell of suntan lotion and sea air.
Me: Today I’m talking to Jonathan Alexander III and Grace Dupont, hero and heroine of Kiss Me Slowly.
Jonathan: Well, I’m not sure I’m anyone’s hero.
Me: Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jon. You did some pretty heroic things in Kiss Me Slowly.
Jonathan: A week on the run makes a man who is essentially non-heroic do heroic things. That doesn’t necessarily make him a hero.
Grace: Ignore him. He’s using his “aw, shucks, ma’am charm” on you. He saved my life more than once. He’s a hero.
Jonathan: It was you that saved me, Grace.
Me: Well, let’s just say you’re both heroes and leave it at that. My call.
(Jon and Grace shift uncomfortably in their chairs.)
Me: I’m glad you two could make it. I know you’re not allowed to tell me much about where you’ve been or how long you’re staying in town, but it’s good of you take a few minutes to meet with me.
Grace: No problem. It’s nice being back on South Beach without anyone trying to kill us.
Jonathan: It’s nice being anywhere without someone trying to kill us. Refreshing.
Me: Jon, at what point did you realize that you needed to go to Grace for help? It must have been hard facing an ex-girlfriend after so many years…especially considering the break-up wasn’t exactly friendly.
Jonathan: Well…I knew I was being followed by Panama Hat Man, the company accountants had already discovered the embezzlement set-up leading to my office, and I didn’t trust anyone around me. I knew Grace and her brother Jerry were the best forensics in Miami–
Grace: The entire East Coast, actually…maybe the best in the country.
Jonathan: Egos…I swear the Duponts have the biggest egos…
Grace: Well, at least we’re honest about it instead of playing the “aw, shucks, ma’am” routine.
Jonathan: You want to do this right now? Really? Argue about egos? And are you really calling the Duponts “honest”? (Smiling, he winks at her before taking a long drink of his mojito.) Anyway, like I was saying…I didn’t trust anyone around me anymore. My only choice…my only hope…was going to Grace and hoping she could use her giant ego and brilliance to save my ass.
Grace: I like how you did that there…her giant ego and brilliance…an insult and a compliment all in one. Sweet, baby. Classy. (She orders another mojito from the waitress.)
Me: Grace, were you ever tempted to let him take the fall? I know your past must have been hard to overcome at first. I mean, here’s the man who broke your heart, who walked away without ever looking back, who suddenly shows up needing your genius to save him. Did it ever cross your mind to simply tell him no?
Kiss Me Slowly Book Trailor
Grace: (long silence as she pokes the ice in her empty glass with a straw) I may have toyed with the idea at first, but once the heart loves someone, despite the circumstances of the ending, it never really stops loving that person. I had to do whatever I could do to help. We didn’t have time for hesitation.
Me: No, you didn’t have much time at all, did you?
(Jonathan and Grace look at each other, smiles hinting at secrets and heartache.)
Grace: No, we couldn’t hesitate.
Jonathan: Time was up. All we could do was…well, all we could do was what we did. Run. Stall. Try to stay one step ahead.
Grace: Try to stay alive.
An excerpt of Kiss Me Slowly
“You have blood on your dress.” He fingered the strap in question that had slipped off her shoulder. “You should probably take it off.”
“Careful. We can’t go there.” Sand clung to her neck and stuck to the tangles in her hair. The light from the bedside lamp shadowed her face.
“I meant change out of it, not…well, maybe I meant take it off. But then we’d be crossing lines that you don’t want to cross.” He let his fingers trail down her arm. “That would be wrong. Terribly wrong.”
“You are nothing but trouble.”
“You always liked trouble.” He rested his right palm against the bed, supporting his weight on his healthy arm.
“Listen carefully to me.” She pressed her finger against his lips. “I’m high on adrenaline, we’re alone, no witnesses, no regrets. One kiss won’t hurt anyone.”
“No witnesses, no regrets…” Heat flooded his veins. “Adrenaline…”
“If I don’t do this now, I’ll hate myself in the morning.”
“You mean you’ll regret it when they lock me up in the morning and throw away the key because you didn’t kiss me one last time?”
“Exactly.” She straddled his lap.
“You weren’t supposed to agree.” He smiled despite the circumstances.
“Shut up, sailor boy. Kiss me.”
She kissed him as if savoring the taste. Her hair fell forward, locking them in a caramel-colored veil of intimacy. Eyes open, they stared at each other as their lips moved against each other’s.
His hands slid up her long thighs, over her panties and pressed against the smoothness of her back. Every stroke of her lips against his awakened pure need in his veins. He no longer cared about what was right or wrong. All he wanted was her mouth on his, his hands on her body and her skin against his.
With a quick yank, she pulled her dress over her head. Breasts bared, she pressed him down on the bed and laughed against his mouth. “This is crossing all kinds of boundaries and breaking every rule I can think of.”
“Just like the old days.” He smiled against her lips. His hands moved over her bared breasts. The pain in his shoulder failed to slow him down. He didn’t know who groaned or if they both did, but the sensation of her flesh filling his palms trumped common sense.
Her bare foot slid over his leg, hands curled into his hair, and body flattened against his. All the anger, the terror and confusion poured from him as he deepened the kiss with an urgency that bordered on desperation. The silky warmth of her mouth erased his pain. Kissing her felt like coming home from an exhausting, lonely journey.
“A kiss…that’s all I wanted,” she muttered against his chin. A shiver quaked through her body when she sighed.
“I want more.”
“Impossible. We can’t.”
“We can do whatever the hell we want, Grace.” Despite the burning pain in his left shoulder, he maneuvered so that his body covered hers. He wanted more than a kiss. He wanted more heat.
Behind Closed Doors 
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