Archive for 2010
A Simple Request
September 16, 2010 | Family
Take a look at these sweet kids. Aren’t they the picture of hope and trust?
How about encouraging them with a simple act?
These second-graders at Our Lady of Grace School have a goal this school year. They’re trying to receive picture postcards from every state in the United States.
If you know someone living in or visiting another state please ask them to mail a postcard with a few facts about that state to:
Our Lady of Grace School Grade 2
3025 Highway Ave.
Highland, IN 46322
Thanks for helping. I’ll be back next week. Until then…
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell
Comments are off
Devon Falls Sweeps You Away
September 15, 2010 | Friends
through the creative writing style of talented Raine Delight.
If you aren’t familiar with our guest author, allow me to share a bit of her life. Raine Delight is a pseudonym of a self professed book lover. After one too many TSTL characters, she decided to test herself and write something a little better. Many drafts later, Devon Falls came together. It was originally to be one book, but somehow ended up to 4 with a 5th and 6th releasing sometime in 2010.
Raine writes Devon Falls, a paranormal contemporary series, for Aspen Mountain Press and is also branching out to other genres as she continues to listen to the voices in her head.
Check out her book pages to see what’s happening in her life. Her muse is a male nut who likes to leave her foundering for words while he sips mai tais on the beach; though eventually he takes pity and gets her words flowing and her characters settled down.
Personal notes from Raine: I live with my own boytoy and two kids. I love Johnny Depp movies and enjoy hiking, reading and watching movies with my family.
Below is a teaser from her latest creation which recieved a Recommended Read from Dark Divas Reviews.
HAUNTING MAGIC
Devon Falls Series Book Four
Raine Delight
ISBN: 978-1-60168-250-5
Aspen Mountain Press
BLURB:
Rodrick Dracon is the twin heir to the Dragon Inn. When he finds himself longing for a mate after being footloose and fancy free, he finds himself drawn to the most obnoxious, brassy woman he has ever met: Jaxon Sinclair. She is the one woman who doesn’t melt when he goes by or hangs on his every word. She is just aggravating and down right sexy as sin!
Soon the sparks fly, passion goes into boiling as Halloween approaches. Can a wolf shifter get this woman to heel before the full moon? Or can Jax turn the tables on this ladies man and tame the wolf?
EXCERPT PG-13:
Rodrick Dracon felt like a Mack truck had slammed into him the next day. He had definitely downed one too many beers last night. The pounding in his head worsened when he pried open his eyes. He closed them again and tried to remember what caused him to bring home three women. His inner wolf must have been especially randy. He tried to gather his thoughts and the energy to get a shower but the thought of moving had him determined to stay right where he was.
BANG! BANG!
“What the hell is wrong with you, Rod?” Damien said, as the door flew open and slammed into the frame. “You were due to help Dad out with the barn set up for the Halloween dance an hour ago. He has been looking for you.”
“Stop it already, my head feels like it’s ready to explode here. I’ll call Dad in a few minutes once I’m able to function and apologize, then meet him out at the barn. Isn’t Halloween a few weeks away anyways?” Rod asked as he made it to the edge of the bed and whimpered as the pain caused spots to form in front of his eyes.
“Rod, Halloween is only couple of days away and Dad is trying to get the dance floor finished before the festivities. I am helping Alicia bring the refreshments over and setting up. You were to pick up the slack so Dad doesn’t have a heart attack doing the work you said you’d help him with.” Damien shook his head and looked at his disheveled brother. ”Do you even remember the ladies you came home with, Rod?”
Rod tried to remember, but all he kept getting were lots of black places
“Nope.”
Damien sighed and sat on his bed. “Rod, this has got to stop. You need your mate and the faster you run from it, the more you are going to hurt as the wolf tries to run free. You know that but you are so hell bent on not getting shackled, as you say, that the wolf inside you wants…no, he needs his mate or he will die trying to find her.”
“Well what do you want me to do…audition every woman on the planet, Damien?” Rod retorted as he looked bleary-eyed at his brother. “This whole mate thing is getting on my nerves and, frankly, I am going to have a complex if this keeps up. What is it with happy couples who want others to be just as happy? Are you drinking happy juice or something?”
“No, not audition but not try to sleep with every female that offers herself to you might be a good place to start.” Damien said. “Why not trying to court a woman or find one that interests you for more than sex? What about falling in love instead of lust?”
Rod looked up at his brother like he was nuts. “Love? What the hell do I know about love with a woman? Lust, yes. Plenty of that, but love?” Scoffing, Rod tried to remember when he ever felt like being in love. “If it means getting all moony over a woman like I see around here, then kill me now because I swear I will never act like that.” With a sigh, Rod implored, “Who am I to fall in love with Damien? Hmmm…with Jax, Dixie, or some nameless woman I’ve never met? “
Damien shook his head. “It is not so bad, Rod. Love will smack you when you least expect it but stop trying to out run the wolf. You will never win and, truthfully, are you not tired the endless parade of women that seems to go through your revolving door of a bedroom? I am going to start charging admission soon if this keeps up.”
“That is all fine for you, Damien. You found your mate again,” Rod grumbled and loneliness clawing at his stomach. “I have never been in love; don’t believe in destiny or any of that crap either but I have seen love around me so I know it is there. I just don’t think it will happen to me.”
You can keep pace with Raine Delight in a variety of locations. Here are her links:
Website
Raine’s Book Nook Blog
Twitter
Author/Reader Loop
Raine also enjoys hearing from people. Feel free to email her.
Her books are sold at all the popular sites. Here’s a list of locations:
Aspen Mountain Press
Fictionwise
All Romance E-books
1Romance E-books
Amazon Kindle
Not only is Raine Delight an excellent writer, she’s a whiz in the kitchen. Come back to my site next month for her easy and tasty recipes. On the header bar, click Fun Stuff, then in the drop down What’s Cooking. You’ll be glad you did!
I’ll be back Monday. Until then…
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell
HOT OFF THE PRESS
September 14, 2010 | New Releases
I’m ecstatic to announce Aspen Mountian Press has just released FRENCH KISS. There will be plenty of celebrating tonight!
The Naughty Ladies of Nice
Book Four
FRENCH KISS
Sloane Taylor
ISBN: 978-1-60168-317-5
Aspen Mountain Press
BLURB:
Straight-laced children’s author, Rachel Conklin, awakens on a deserted island wrapped in the arms of a sexy pirate. Convinced she’s in a dream conjured from the pages of her breakout novel, Rachel casts her inhibitions to the wind. Guilt-free, she seduces the handsome sailor and rides the waves of passion.
Pediatrician Henri Bernier wasn’t quite sure what to do with the sexy mermaid he’d pulled from the sea. Then she started kissing him and sent his libido soaring. Now the good doctor is ready to practice anything.
EXCERPT:
His mystery woman wiped mist from the cheval mirror. In the cleared glass, Henri caught her image. He stood in the bathroom doorway, frozen, staring at her through their shared reflection. She smiled at his shocked expression, probably enjoying the fact she had him at a disadvantage.
The bath towel dropped from her fingers, exposing her firm breasts. Her large, dark nipples drew him like a siren to the sea and his dick sprang to life. The desires to lave and suckle her flooded over him while his stiff cock demanded he bend her over and fuck her until he came.
Droplets glistened on the ringlets of her long hair, reflected by the late afternoon sun. Several beads gathered, then made a slow descent down her spine. He stood mesmerized by the rivulet, staring as it glided to the sleek curve of her hip, following it lower until it disappeared between her firm cheeks.
With her good hand, she pulled thick strands of wet hair off her back and draped it over a shoulder, exposing her delicate neck. She held his gaze and bent over at the waist, offering him a seductive view of her pink labia. In slow motion, she drew a pair of red panties up her legs, then did a little hip wiggle and tugged them into place.
The shiny panties caressed her rounded ass cheeks midway on her derrière, accenting the creamy bare skin and framing the lower portion. His hands itched to cup her, squeeze the firm muscles, but his arms were frozen at his sides.
The kissable white flesh rounded above legs that went on forever down to trim ankles and slender feet. He imagined those long limbs circling his waist, better yet, wrapped around his neck as he watched his cock slide in and out of her.
“Magnifique.” The word slipped out hoarse as struggled for oxygen.
He walked closer, his movements dreamlike. The honey shampoo aroma filled his lungs when he finally reached her.
“You are beautiful.”
“Merci, Henri.” A smile twitched her lips.
“Your wrist should be in the sling.” He held up the black cloth with his other hand.
“I agree, but there’s time for that later.”
She leaned into him and reached back for his free hand, hanging limp at his side, then laid it across her bare ribcage. Her smooth skin felt warm against his damp palm.
“I intended to hang it on the handle, but the door popped—”
“Henri, isn’t there something else you’d rather do right now than talk?”
His sex-engrossed brain finally registered her words. “Mai oui.”
He laid a soft kiss on her shoulder, nipping his way along the side of her neck until he reached the tender area behind her ear lobe. Her nipples pebbled with his gentle touch, encouraging him to explore more of her.
His fingers played across her abdomen, sending prickles of anticipation up his arm as they climbed higher. He cupped her breast, massaging the firm mound until soft moans slipped past her parted lips. The entire time he watched her reflection in the mirror while his thumb made slow, teasing circles around her areola.
She wrapped her warm fingers over his other hand and guided it across her body. The combination of soft skin and firm muscle was the most erotic sensation of his life.
Dieu, how he wanted to dip into her hot pussy, His cock, with drops of pre-cum seeping through the slit, demaded relief.
With shaking fingers, she guided his other hand lower until she stopped at the elastic band on her wet panties. He grazed the fabric across her mound and stopped, then moved his hand to her thigh and edged toward her nub. She wrapped her fingers around his forearm, encouraging him to travel beneath the thin cloth. Anxious to please, he glided his fingers under the damp fabric and into her wet hairs, searching for her clit. After a moment of teasing, he slid first one finger, then a second into her hot, wet channel and watched her expression turn to ecstasy.
“Come for me, ma petit.”
Her trembling body tensed. She clutched the basin rim, squeezing her thighs tightly around his hand, grinding her hips against him. Shivers coursed through her. Her whimpers turned to a scream of pleasure as she sprayed hot cum onto him. A unique feeling of joy settled in his heart.
He turned her limp frame in his arms, his fingertips skimming across her tender nipples. She melted against him, pressing her breasts into his chest hairs…
I’ll be back tomorrow with Raine Delight. Until then…
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell
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P.A. Brown Front and Center
September 13, 2010 | Friends
Born in Canada, P. A. Brown’s approach to life was tempered in the forges of Los Angeles. After eight years in the City of Angels, she was endowed with a fascination for the darker side of life and the professionals who patrol those mean streets.
P.A. considers those years a lifetime’s worth of experience that she mines regularly in her novels. She is not afraid to explore the darker sides of her characters and the streets they inhabit, including the ones most people are afraid to walk down alone at night.
Here’s an excellent example of her terrific books.
FALL INTO THE NIGHT
P.A. Brown
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-713-7 (Electronic)
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-777-9 (Paperback)
Amber Quill Press – Amber Allure
BLURB
The death of his father catapults Terik u Selhdun into the position of Ogema of Tiamat, the planet of his birth. It was a position he rejected years before when he and his autocratic father clashed over Selhdun’s homosexuality. Instead, Selhdun became a linked pilot and owner of his own ship, the Necromancer. Linked pilots are the only ones who can take a ship through Jump, a form of hypserspace travel that allows the empire of man, known as the Autarch, to thrive.
War drove the humans off their home world of Terra (Earth). In the subsequent years, the coordinates of the Terran Jumpoint were lost. When they eventually resurface, Selhdun and the Necromancer are hired to transport a group of scientists back to Terra in order to ascertain whether humans can safely return to the planet of their origin.
But numerous forces in and out of government don’t want Selhdun to succeed. Troubles plague the expedition, including an assassination attempt and brutal enemies hell-bent on stopping Selhdun and the ship, even as he and his crew make strides in their mission. Yet in Terran space, a new lethal menace awaits, and soon everyone on board the Necromancer discovers the battle to stay alive has only just begun…
EXCERPT
A hard, driving snow scudded out of a sky as bleak and depressing as the fallow fields around them. Selhdun didn’t need to consult Ship to know the weather was going to turn even nastier and soon. He had too many memories of such storms closing in on them.
“Get us inside,” he said to the driver when their vehicle paused at the first Enclave gate for HouseComp to verify his identity.
Selhdun knew at that moment a battery of unseen lasguns was trained on them. He barely felt the actual scan, which read the schematics of his embedded ID and verified his identity against HC’s database.
The lights of a distant village shone through the mounting storm. He tried to think of the village name; had he ever been there? He seemed to remember a harvest festival. The fireworks to honor the Ogema and his children had impressed a seven-year-old Selhdun for years afterward. Kanahchi-Wahnung, that was it. A tiny village full of brightly painted houses like so many other villages that made up the local farming co-ops.
A gust of wind rocked the groundcar. The icy-fingered wind whined as it sought to reach the warm bodies inside. Selhdun huddled within the folds of his coat and waited.
“Trust him to save his dying until the end of the season,” Selhdun said to Pakal. “I could do without weather. I think I deliberately forgot how miserable climate is. Don’t tell me—on Xua this would be a balmy spring day.”
“On Xua the elements are legendary.” Pakal made a pretense of peering out into the growing blizzard. A spray of ice crystals rattled against the car windows. “We rarely had such pleasant weather, in spring or any other season.”
Selhdun shivered and not just from the cold. His muscle already shook from over-exertion. He regretted the impetuousness that had brought him here.
Pakal was right. Selhdun should have turned up the gravity or spent time in the gym. If he had, his heart wouldn’t seem like it was trying to climb out of his chest. Even sitting, it felt like hot spikes were being driven into his calves.
The groundcar crossed the open inner courtyard. The main house loomed out of the gathering gloom, all rough-cut stone and windows shuttered like closed eyes, hiding secrets. His ancestral home looked no different than it had the night he had fled fifty-nine years earlier. He realized now the place never changed, only the people inside came and went. It had been built three-and-a-half centuries ago by the then current Ogema who reputedly had wanted a place away from the government seat in Outuais for his wives and sons.
Outside the open front doors a waiting throng gathered. Composed of at least a half a dozen castes, cloned and programmed to fill specific functions, Selhdun couldn’t remember what half of them did. Not that it mattered. They were there to serve him in any way he wanted.
“My mother wastes no opportunity to play the grand dame,” Selhdun said.
“Already I feel her knives at our back.” Pakal turned to stare out at the crowd. “I do not like the look of this.”
“Even my mother wouldn’t dare anything too obvious.” Selhdun glimpsed glittering spy-eyes within the craggy stone walls and the barest glint of a lasgun mounted under a window arch and wished they made him feel safer. The blue-flame funeral torches on the stone walls cast shadows on the few tendrils of snow that lay in every corner. It lent exposed human skin a ghoulish cast.
“Stupid ritual.” Selhdun glared at the funeral torches that were only lit when a male member of the ruling Ogema died. The last time he had seen them he had been four. His grandfather had died, making his father Ogema. He had thought them pretty then. Now he knew better. How many people here wished the flames burned for him? “Barbaric and pointless.”
Pakal shrugged. “They but seek to find comfort in custom. Hardly pointless.”
“Don’t fool yourself. No one here regrets his passing.”
The snow thickened, and the wind died in the walled-in courtyard. Fat snowflakes descended leisurely, and Selhdun watched them settle everywhere. Unbidden, an image came. The image of another time and another world. Another companion.
Another love.
He shivered and tried to shake off the memories, but they persisted. God, he hadn’t thought of Rauli in years. His eyes closed against remembered pain. Beside him Pakal moved, and the cushioned seat crackled under him.
“What is it, Terik?”
“Nothing,” he lied hoarsely. “Ghosts. That’s all.”
To learn more about P.A. Brown, check out her website. You’ll be glad you did.
I’ll be back Wednesday with Raine Delight, a creative author you’re sure to enjoy. Unitl then…
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell
Comments are off
Ready to Travel Open Roads?
September 8, 2010 | Friends
Today we have KC Kendricks, the masterful author of contemporary gay romance. KC writes from the heart with a passion that submerges you into her stories.
KC is a 2008 Amber Heat Wave Winner, and a 2008 CAPA who celebrates love and hope for mature readers.
She lives in Maryland with her partner of almost twenty years. Weekdays are spent working as an Administrative Assistant to the Board, and as the Office Manager of a mid-size corporation.
KC has written more traditional romance under a pseudonym, with one contemporary title a #1 bestseller, several other top-ten list titles, and a few more recommended reads. She is established as a storyteller that delivers rich, satisfying romantic tales that feature strong themes of love, hope, and redemption with positive, upbeat endings.
Here’s a little from her latest release I think you’ll enjoy.
OPEN ROADS
KC Kendriks
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-731-1 (Electronic)
Amber Quill – Amber Allure
BLURB:
Tyler Phillips enjoys his small town life. He’ll never get rich working the family business, but he knows there’s more to a man than the size of his bank account. Easing into mid-life, Tyler’s restless for something he can’t find in the little borough of Easton – male companionship.
Noel Springs got caught up in the economic downturn. His job gone, and retirement a lot of years in the future, Noel decides to take a long drive and see some of the country before dedicating himself to finding new employment. The open road is just what he needs right now.
When his car overheats outside the little town of Easton, Noel discovers the local mechanic is hotter than his radiator, and just as eager to blow off some steam.
INTRO: (from Tyler’s point of view)
“Nice car. How far back did the trouble start?”
He leaned inside and pulled the release lever. Little lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes as he smiled. “About forty-one years.”
I grinned at him, already liking his sense of humor as I lifted the hood. A wave of steam engulfed us. I hastily closed my eyes and stepped back to keep the antifreeze-laden vapor from leaving a film on my contact lenses. “Come inside. We’ll let that cool down so I can take a look at her.”
“You’re going to tell me it’s the radiator, aren’t you?” His clear tenor held just a trace of the west as he followed me into what passed as a reception area and office combined. I opened the soft drink case.
“What would you like, on the house? And don’t panic yet.” Based on the way the steam smelled, I suspected his radiator would be fine, but what was inside it was not.
“Too late. I panicked about five miles ago when the temperature gauge shot up.
You can’t imagine how relieved I was to see your sign. I’ll take coffee, if you have it.”
I popped the cap and handed him a cola. “Sorry. It’s a little late in the day for any to be left in the pot.” I grinned at him. “And I hear that a lot about my strategically placed sign out there on the Interstate.”
His grey gaze held my hazel one captive as I held out my hand to him. “Tyler Phillips, owner-operator.”
Strong fingers closed around mine, holding my hand a moment too long for politeness. “Noel Springs, stranded motorist.”
EXCERPT:
Our bodies brushed, hip against hip, as I leaned past him. I heard the sharp intake of breath as he jumped, and felt his heat when he seized the moment and pressed the long length of his muscled thigh to mine. My mouth went dry, but I didn’t need to speak.
Hidden from public view by our bodies and the car, Noel’s hand stroked across my ribs and came to a stop as his strong fingers gripped my waist. I had my hands full, carefully securing the pie for the ride home. His pelvis bumped my ass, a quick thrust that almost knocked my head against the doorframe. My cock hardened in a rush, straining within its denim prison.
“That’s what you get for bending over in front of me, you little tease.”
I wiggled my butt, and he smacked it, hard. I straightened and turned around, grinning at him.
I looked down. He looked down. Noel returned my grin. His grey eyes gleamed in the sunlight as his pink tongue licked his full, rosy lips.
“Seven-and-a-half, cut.”
“Eight. Cut”
Noel narrowed his eyes. “Top or bottom?”
I grasped his hips, not caring if the whole town buzzed it up on the gossip chain by sundown. “You’re too eager.”
He glanced down at my bulging zipper a second time. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”
“You know, Noel, I don’t want to get all stupid with you. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of your misfortune on the highway.”
“I know, Tyler. And I don’t want you to think I ever planned to abuse your hospitality. This is just one night. Maybe a little friendly companionship, provided…”
He moved to kiss me, and I jerked away. He looked surprised.
“Sorry, Noel.” Kissing on Main Street might be a bit too much for the neighbors whose good will supported my standard of living. “I keep my private life low profile.”
“Of course. I’m out, and I guess I thought you were, too.”
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m in sort of a limbo. I don’t care if people know, but this is a small town. I don’t flaunt it in public, but in truth, around here, neither do straight lovers.”
“Got it. When in Rome.” He backed away, his expression unreadable as he climbed into the car.
Maybe I’d tripped some trigger of his, or not, but I’d figure it out when we got to my place. Insides quivering with anticipation, I headed out of town.
Noel remained silent for the remainder of the drive to my home, at least until
I turned onto the long gravel lane that led to the two-story frame farmhouse. He shifted in his seat and fixed that clear grey gaze on me in an incredulous stare.
“Excuse me for asking, but what the hell is a good looking stud like you doing out here in bum-fuck middle America, working as a grease monkey, and living on a farm, for God’s sake!”
The answer that filled my being came out of the still darkness of countless solitary nights.
Waiting for you.
To learn more about the talented KC Kendricks, visit her website and follow her on Twitter. Of course, she has MySpace and Facebook. KC also has a great personal blog. Be sure to join her mailing list for the latest information.
I’ll be back Friday. Until then…
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell
AMBER QUILL SIGNS CLAIRE DE LUNE
September 3, 2010 | Hot Damn
and all contracts are returned! Amazing sci-fi author, Robert Appleton, invited me to co-author and I jumped at the chance to branch out. Gotta love those boys from Bolton. 🙂
Amber Heat will release CLAIRE DE LUNE November 7 in e-book, followed by the paperback around December 5.
To learn more about Rob’s incredible books, check out his website and blog Mercurial Times.
Now for a little teaser about CLAIRE DE LUNE:
BLURB:
You’re invited to the galaxy’s most prestigious beauty pageant. Clothing optional. Romance and danger…fully provided.
Cocky young detectives Gerry Rappeneau and Sebastian Thorpe-Campbell arrive at the premier lunar resort expecting a week of eye candy and long massages. With a half-billion-credit purse up for grabs, this year’s pageant is the focus of a hundred worlds. And beauty isn’t the only thing in the eye of the beholder.
One contestant, Evelyn Lyons, is attacked and her assailant killed. Surely a simple case of a stalker gone mad, as nothing bad ever happens at the Selene contest. So the brochure says.
The closer Gerry gets to Evelyn, the more he is convinced she’s hiding something. His meticulous character sparks with her wild, sassy nature, and they embark on a torrid affair. Their forbidden romance isn’t the only thing set to ignite in Pont de Reves.
Sebastian’s infatuation with demure Claire Villiers, another contestant, threatens to put all four of them in harm’s way.
A deadly trail of corporate conspiracy, monstrous assassins and hot bikini wax is more than anyone bargained for in this incendiary erotic mystery. Get ready for some serious heat on the dark side of the moon.
Have a safe an wonderful Labor Day. I’m off to celebrate, but will be back next week with the scintillating Raine Delight. Until then…
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell
Spice Up Your Life With Ginger
September 1, 2010 | Friends
No, we’re not talking recipes. Today’s blog is to introduce you to the marvelous author Ginger Simpson who has a penchant for words and weaving them into stories you won’t want to miss.
Ginger currently resides in Tennessee with her husband and biggest fan, Kelly. He believes he’s the inspiration for all her romantic scenes, but she won’t verify his claim.
A while back, she retired to devote more time to writing, but her promotional efforts, blogging, tweeting, and interacting with new friends on author’s and reader’s loops have stymied her efforts.
She watches her grandson, Spencer, in the afternoons, and besides seeing one of her books in a real “brick and mortar” store some day, her main goal is to help her little darling overcome his developmental delays caused by Autism.
Since the publication of her first book in May 2003, she has remained avid about adding to her accomplishments. Her favorite genre is western historical, but she has been known to dabble in other areas.
Ginger’s got that “million dollar” book in the works, and one day hopes to haul someone into Wal-Mart, point to her novel and say, “That’s me.” She proclaims that Grandma Moses didn’t make it big until her “golden” years, so why not be a believer that good things come to those who wait…and wait…and wait.
A 2009 EPIC Nominee, Ginger recently won the 2009 Best Historical Novel from Love Romances Cafe. To learn more about Ginger and her terrific books click here or read her interesting blog.
SISTERS IN TIME
Ginger Simpson
ISBN: 9781926704005
Eternal Press
BLURB:
Two eras collide when a modern day attorney and a pioneer wife find themselves locked in a time not their own.
Mariah Cassidy awakens in the twentieth century. Confined in a pristine environment, hooked to tubes and beeping machines, she’s scared, confused and wondering why everyone keeps calling her Mrs. Morgan. Who is the strange man who keeps massaging her forehead and telling her everything is going to be alright?
Taylor Morgan tries to focus on her surroundings through a blinding headache. The patchwork quilt, the water basin, and the archaic room don’t strike a familiar chord. Her mouth gapes when a handsome man waltzes into the room, calls her darling, and expresses his delight that she’s on the road to recovery.
Clearly something is amiss.
EXCERPT:
Colorado Territory–1872
Taylor’s head pounded with pain. Trying to focus, she opened her eyes and blinked a few times, then propped herself up on her elbows. Everything looked strange. The room seemed bright and cheery, but things appeared very old fashioned. She fingered the patchwork quilt covering the bed, and puzzled over the antique mirror hanging above an old-time washbowl and pitcher across the room. An incessant ache throbbed in her temple.
Where was she? What’d happened to her? A zillion questions raced through her mind.
“David,” she called for her husband. Her voice painfully resonated in her head. “David, where are you?”
She slid off the bed. Her legs wavered beneath her and she clung to the bedpost. Slowly, as she regained her equilibrium, she weaved across the room and peered into the mirror. A massive bandage covered the top her head; black circles ringed her swollen eyes. She didn’t recognize herself.
“Boy, I look like hell,” she muttered.
As she raised her hand to touch the bandage, the door behind her opened, and she spied the reflection of a strange man.
“Mariah, sweetheart. You’re finally awake.” He crossed the room with open arms.
Taylor spun and faced him. Feeling disoriented, she shook her head. “You have the wrong room, sir.”
His brows arched. “Mariah, what are you talking about? What wrong room?”
“Look fella, I’m not Mariah. Evidently you’re in the wrong place if you are looking for someone by that name.”
The stranger rushed over and took her in his arms. “Oh my sweet angel, the bump on your head is worse than Doc Samuels thought.”
Taylor shoved him away. “Take your hands off me. Who is Doc Samuels, and who in the hell are you?”
Suddenly, the room spun. Her stomach turned queasy. Needing to sit, she staggered back to the bed, her gaze still assessing the stranger.
“I’m Frank… your husband.” He followed her, his head cocked, his eyes clouded in confusion.
She swallowed. “Excuse me? My husband’s name is David… David Morgan. I don’t know who you are, mister, but you must be the one who bumped your head if you think I’m your wife.”
“Well, if you aren’t, then just who might you be?”
“Taylor Morgan. I live in Denver. Can you please tell me where I am?”
“You’re in Colorado, about two hours from Denver City. Don’t you remember?”
“Two hours? How in the hell did I get here?”
Frank’s eyes widened. “When did you start cussing?”
“Don’t worry about it, just answer me. How did I get here?” Her last nerve frayed, and he plucked at it.
“Don’t you recall? We were going to town in the wagon—”
“Wagon? What the hell would I be doing in a wagon? A station wagon?”
Frank took a deep breath. “We were going to town, and Jacob needed to pee. I think he disturbed some rattlesnakes and they spooked the horses… Sound familiar?”
Taylor’s mind raced. Who was this loony? Before he spoke again, she assaulted him with a barrage of questions. “Who is Jacob? Wagon? What horses? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Frank… is it? Look, Frank, I have an idea. Why don’t you just call me a cab and I’ll get out of your way.”
She looked down at the tacky nightgown she wore and wondered who had removed her clothing. Tugging at the sack-like shift, she let out an exasperated huff. “If you’ll just retrieve my things, I’ll get dressed and be ready to go when the taxi gets here.”
I’ll be back later this week. Until then…
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell
From Murder to Romance
August 19, 2010 | Promotion
It’s PARTY TIME!
Today at Love Romances Cafe from 11:00a.m. until 1:00p.m. EST.
Join Clare London, Ginger Simpson, Linda Sole, Lizzie T. Leaf, Marie Tuhart, Raine Delight, Rita Karnopp, Tabitha Shay, Sarah Grimm and me for a surprising two hours of fun and prizes.
Hope to see you there!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell
Comments are off
On the Edge with Rick R. Reed
July 30, 2010 | Friends
I’m excited to have Rick R. Reed back with us, discussing his newest print release ON THE EDGE. This collection of strong stories is filled with an emotional depth a reader rarely experiences. It’s a rewarding read and one you won’t want to miss.
Now, a little from Rick;
This book is especially for you if you’re one of those people who just doesn’t cotton to the idea of an e-book and prefers the look, smell, and experience of a real print book. ON THE EDGE collects eight of my stories that were previously only available in electronic format before. Check out the descriptions of each story below (titles are hyperlinked so you can go to their original publisher page, where you can read excerpts, see reviews, and a more detailed synopsis).
ON THE EDGE
Rick R. Reed
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-779-3 (Paperback)
Amber Quill Press – Amber Allure
Amazon Buy Link
Synopsis
In Rick R. Reed’s haunting, mesmerizing, suspenseful, and romantic world, his gay male characters live on the edge, often literally as well as figuratively. In this new collection, you’ll take a wild ride with some of literature’s most unforgettable characters. Along the way, you’ll be moved—to tears, to laughter, to uneasiness, and sometimes, to arousal. As Bette Davis once said, “Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.”
Previously available only in electronic format, these eight stories of Gay Erotica and Romance have now been combined for a paperback edition! Included are the tales…
SUPERSTAR A story about promises made, promises broken, and dreams unfulfilled. Yet ultimately, it’s about realizing that love can come along when one least expects it—and in the unlikeliest of places.
THROUGH THE CLOSET DOOR A tale that brings to painful life the consequences of coming out of the closet when you’re married. Gregory’s mask is slipping, pulled down by the allure of a handsome neighbor and the demands of a desire that only gets louder the more he tries to quiet it.
RIDING THE EL AT MIDNIGHT When the gorgeous and twisted Mark boards a northbound el train, he is looking for love in all the wrong places. Finding Julio aboard that same train, Mark thinks, is the answer to his dreams. But are his dreams nightmares?
FUGUE SLIP into the dungeon playroom of a master and his boy. But in the boy’s mind, a dream state takes him places the master could not imagine…places where the established order turns upside down.
INCUBUS Two men, one predator, and a violent crime equal a journey into hellish nightmare territory. This tale merges horror with a tragic love story and the result is…chilling.
MAN-AMORPHOSIS I awoke one morning from uneasy dreams to find my penis had transformed itself into a vagina… Thus begins the story of a very unusual day…
NO PLACE LIKE HOME Trannies and Psychos and Bears…oh my! Burl discovers—in a hilariously bizarre quest—that there really is no place like home.
POTTERY PETE One long hot summer. Three gorgeous men. And a burning triangle set down in the middle of a factory filled with sweaty men with bulging biceps.
Thank you, Rick, for sharing your wonderful books. As always, it’s a pleasure to have you visit us. 🙂
I’ll be back next week. Until then…
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell
Do You Have Demons?
July 29, 2010 | Friends
Today we have the uber-talented Rick R. Reed with us. Rick’s writing talent is unsurpassed, and his books are filled with love, horror and suspense. I think you’ll enjoy his step away from the everyday.
Here’s a little from Rick:
Well, it’s finally here and available both in e-book and paperback editions: my fifteenth book (and fourth with MLR Press), A DEMON INSIDE.
This book continues my goal of combining both the horror and the romance genre into one compelling read. A Demon Inside is as much a romance as it is a chilling horror novel. I believe it will satisfy readers of both genres equally.
So here’s a little bit about the book, along with an excerpt.
A DEMON INSIDE
Rick R. Reed
ISBN 978-1-60820-165-5 (print) $14.99
ISBN 978-1-60820-166-2 (ebook) $6.99
BLURB:
Hunter Beaumont doesn’t understand his grandmother’s deathbed wish: “Destroy Beaumont House.” He’d never even heard of the place. But after his grandmother passes and his first love betrays him, the family house in the Wisconsin woods looks like a tempting refuge. Going against his grandmother’s wishes, Hunter flees to Beaumont House.
But will the house be the sanctuary he had hoped for? Soon after moving in, Hunter realizes he may not be alone. And who—or what—he shares the house may plunge him into a nightmare from which he may never escape. Sparks fly when he meets his handsome neighbor, a caretaker for the estate next door, but is the man salvation…or is he the source of Hunter’s terror?
EXCERPT:
Hunter Beaumont awakened drenched in sweat, striped sheets twisted around him. His heart pounded and an irrational fear coursed through him, disproportionate to the calmness of the dark bedroom surrounding him.
He sat up, rubbing his hand over his slick face, and reassured himself with the same words countless nightmare sufferers have told themselves since the dawn of time: “It was only a dream; it was only a dream.” But it was that same dream again. The one that was part memory, part horror movie. The one where he was camping with his parents and he can see the glow of the campfire flickering on their faces. It’s a lovely scene, at first, romantic and warm. His parents’ voices are hushed, his mother’s laugh tinkling, as the two of them huddle together, the fire keeping the darkness of the woods at bay. But then a shadow falls over his mother and father’s faces and their eyes turn in an instant from contented and adoring to terrified. Then come the screams…and the blood, all the blood. That was when Hunter always awakened.
But this time something more than the nightmare had awakened him. Was someone knocking on his bedroom door? Yes, there it was again, an almost tentative tapping. In his post nightmare state, Hunter imagined the worst—that a monster lurked outside, something needing to be invited in. And once inside, it would rip him limb from limb, gorging on his flesh and drinking his blood.
Hunter allowed himself an embarrassed laugh and attempted to pull himself together. He sat up straighter against the headboard and used a corner of the top sheet to dab at the beads of sweat still gathering on his forehead. “Yes?” he called out.
With a creak, the door opened a crack and Lori Schmidbauer, his grandmother’s nurse, peered in. Even backlit, Hunter could see the kindness in the woman’s dark brown eyes and the concern and sadness on her face. She glanced down the hall and then back toward him, gave him a tentative smile.
“Hunter? Honey, I’m so sorry to wake you. Can I come in?”
Hunter pulled the sheet up further, covering his chest. A new kind of alarm began inside, the dread beginning to churn like something alive in his guts. “Is everything okay?”
Lori didn’t respond. She simply tiptoed into the room and sat down gingerly on the edge of his bed. Hunter leaned over and switched on the nightstand lamp. Lori still wore her scrubs and her curly brown hair was pulled loosely into a ponytail. She looked tired. Hunter repeated his question and added to it. “Is everything okay? Is Nana all right?”
Lori clutched his hand, squeezed it, and let it go. “I don’t think so, dear.” She stared off at a point over Hunter’s head and he could see her eyes glistened with tears.
It felt like his stomach dropped a couple of feet. He bit his lip. “Is it time?”
Lori drew in a quivering breath before responding. “Yeah. I think it is.” She stood. “You better come now if you want to say goodbye.”
“Okay,” Hunter whispered, barely able to find breath to put behind the single word. For his whole twenty-two year life, his grandmother had been his savior, protector, shield, comforter, mother, father, playmate, and teacher. There actually was a monster outside his door, and its name was cancer. That monster was about to rip all he held dear away from him.
Lori waited on the bed, watching him. He could tell she was trying to gauge his reaction, to see if perhaps he would need a hug. Lori was the kind of nurse that was free with her hugs. A good woman. But right now, Hunter needed a moment to himself and he told her.
“Sure, sweetheart. Just don’t be too long.” She got up and paused at the door. “I don’t know how much time we have.” Sorrowfully, she nodded, her lips coming together in a line indicating sympathy. She took her time leaving his room, then he heard her quickened pace as she hurried down the long hallway to his nana’s bedroom.
Hunter didn’t know if he could do this. Part of him thought if he just stayed here in bed, he could delay or prevent the inevitable. If he could only freeze time at this moment, he would never have to face a world without Nana in it. He shook his head and chastised himself for being weak.
Feeling numb, Hunter roused himself from bed. He slid into the jeans and sweater he had left on the rocker by the window. He looked outside, where the inky darkness revealed nothing, a void. He knew Lake Michigan was out there and in the morning it would reveal itself in aqua or gray, depending on the quality of light, but right now it seemed as though the huge body of water had vanished. The night’s darkness pressed against his windows like something palpable, aching to get inside.
Barefoot, he padded down the hall to his grandmother’s bedroom. Ever since he had lost his parents at the age of five, this had been his home, and suddenly the big old house seemed strange and unfamiliar, as if he were seeing it for the first time. Here was the portrait of his father, painted when Daddy was sixteen, looking young and vibrant, and not that much different from Hunter: the same smile and auburn hair. And there was the old Oriental rug, its pinks, blues, and grays faded, leading the way to the door to his grandmother’s bedroom, which yawned open. Hunter stood for a long while, staring at that doorway and breathing in the smell of sickness that emanated from the room. “Go,” he whispered.
He ducked into the room. Nana lay propped up on her old four-poster bed, the one she had had since marrying Hunter’s grandfather about six decades ago. She looked small and shriveled, vulnerable and nearly lost among the pillows, blankets, and quilts that never could keep her quite warm. Her hair looked like gray straw and parts of her scalp peeked through. A few days ago, they had taken her off the IVs and oxygen, knowing there was no hope. The medical detritus stood in a corner of the room, looking like defeated soldiers.
Lori stood near the bed. When she saw Hunter, she leaned down and whispered to Nana, whose eyes fluttered open at the sound of the nurse’s voice. Although she had not been completely coherent for the past couple of weeks, a combination of the morphine she took to manage her pain and her own failing memory, her eyes brightened when she saw her grandson. She even managed a weak smile, which vanished almost as soon as it arrived, as if the effort to maintain it was just too much for the old woman.
It probably was.
Lori stepped away from the bed and donned a fleece she had left on a chair nearby. She hugged herself and then said, “I’ll leave you two alone. I’m going to run downstairs and call Dr. Blackstock.” She squeezed Hunter’s shoulder as she left the room.
Hunter sat down beside his grandmother on her bed. “Nana?”
“Hunter,” Nana croaked, her voice only an echo of the vibrancy it once had. She tried to lift her hand to his face but it appeared she didn’t have the strength, letting it drop back down to the bedding. She closed her eyes and swallowed; the latter action looked painful and Nana winced.
“Don’t talk, Nana. If it hurts, don’t talk.” He picked up one of her withered hands and covered it with both of his own, trying to impart some of his own warmth to the frail appendage, feeling now as if it had been made of parchment and bird bones. She nodded, staring up at him. She licked her lips. “I just want to go to sleep now. I’m ready. Can you tell the nurse?”
“Sure.” Hunter smoothed her hair away from her forehead and leaned in close. He bit his lips, not wanting to cry in front of the old woman. What if she didn’t know this was the end? He couldn’t be so cruel as to reveal that to her. And even as he thought these things, he knew—deep in his heart—that Nana knew perfectly well what was happening.
“Sleep. That sounds good.” Nana’s eyelids fluttered and closed. Hunter thought she had fallen asleep and simply sat with her for several minutes, holding her hand. Finally, he thought maybe he should creep away, hoping against hope that this was not the final moment. Lori could have been wrong after all.
But then Nana opened her eyes, and Hunter thought he needed to speak while there was still time and before he gave in to the tears and sobs that were clamoring inside. He gathered the old woman up in his arms and pulled her close. Placing his lips close to her ears, he thought for a moment, grasping for something profound to say, but finally decided on only:
“I love you so much.”
“I love you, too,” Nana whispered. She slumped back against the pillows.
Hunter covered his mouth. Was she gone? But her eyes opened once more, about half-mast, seeking him out even though his face was only inches from her own.
“Beaumont House,” she croaked.
“What?”
“Beaumont House. Promise me you’ll burn it.”
Want more Rick Reed? You can find him on the internet at his website, blog, Facebook and Twitter. Be sure to check Rick out and learn more about this ingenious author.
I’ll be back tomorrow. Until then…
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell
