Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Please Welcome Karen Stivali and "Decadence"!

BLURB

A book in the Spice Rack series.

In eight years of marriage, Eric Carlson has never forgotten to kiss his wife Jessica goodbye—until this morning. As Jessica runs her errands, all she can think about is the missing kiss. When Eric calls to tell her he thinks he left the toaster oven on, she rushes home, annoyed and afraid her house may be burning down. Instead of smoke and flames she finds Eric, looking hot and sexy as hell as he prepares fresh waffles.

Eric knows he and Jessica have been drifting apart. He’s bought the hot new product everyone’s talking about—the Spice Rack, guaranteed to spice up your love life. The jar he opens advises them to “Spend a decadent day indulging all your senses.” With the whole day ahead of them, a fridge full of tempting treats and the house to themselves for a change, that’s exactly what Eric intends to do—in the kitchen, on the washing machine, wherever the mood strikes. And Jessica’s got a super-steamy surprise for him too.

A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

EXCERPT

He didn’t even kiss me goodbye. Jessica knew it was silly to get upset over something so minor, but she couldn’t help it. In the eight years they’d been married, she couldn’t remember another morning when Eric had forgone the farewell kiss. Sure, the kids were running amok, a sea of backpacks and lunchboxes, but that was normal. Eric saying goodbye with a wave was not.

“See you later.” He’d thrown her his trademark sexy grin. She’d stood still for a few seconds, holding the door open as the kids piled out of the house, waiting. And…nothing.

While queued in the drop-off line at the elementary school, she flipped open the vanity mirror. She didn’t look like a beauty queen but at least she’d showered. Her skin was clear, her cheeks even a bit rosy from gardening the day before. She grimaced. I should have brushed my hair. Dark hair, wavy and out of control, pulled into a loose ponytail paired with t-shirt and yoga pants. I look like a teenager. Not exactly sexy. Frowning at her reflection, she heard the car behind her honk.

“Mom, pull up, it’s our turn.” Timmy, though only seven, had been a backseat driver for nearly five years.

“Sorry.” She inched the car toward the orange drop-off cone and stopped. “Have a good day, guys. I love you.”

“Love you too, mom,” the chorus of three came from the backseat as they scrambled out the door.

Taking a last quick glance in the mirror, she snapped it shut and eased back into the parking lot. As she was about to turn onto the main road, her cell rang. XXXXX, Eric’s ringtone. She fumbled in her purse and slid the purple case open. Holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she pulled onto the street, not wanting to get beeped at a second time this morning.

“Hey, sweetie,” Eric said. “Can you do me a favor?”

Sighing, Jessica shifted to keep the phone in place as she changed lanes. “What’s up?”

“I know you said you were going to the grocery store, but I need you to stop home first. I think I may have left the toaster oven on.”

“Can’t you go check?”

“I’ve got a really important meeting this morning. I need you to do it. Please?” She could hear the smile in his voice. The charming, irresistible smile to which she’d never been able to say no.

“Fine.” Even if you didn’t bother to kiss me this morning.

“Thanks.”

Did he just chuckle?

She hung up and tossed the phone back into her purse. Great. Now I have to go all the way home, which means I won’t get to the store for another hour. Not that it was a huge deal. With all three boys in school this year she had her days to herself. She’d been looking forward to that for years, but it wasn’t as fun and freeing as she’d expected. All the same responsibilities were there. The house still needed to be cleaned, dinner still needed to be made, laundry was always piling up. And she always had a stack of work on her desk. Freelance graphic design was the perfect work-from-home job and she could do it any time of day or night, but lately she felt as though everything was getting away from her. Somehow she’d had more structure to her days when the kids were home than she managed to have with them in school all day.

As she turned onto her block she couldn’t help but look for signs of smoke pouring from her windows. God, I hope he didn’t really leave the toaster oven on. What the hell was he even using the toaster oven for? Eric ate cereal for breakfast, though now that she thought about it she hadn’t seen him pour himself a bowl this morning. She’d been too distracted by the fact that he was wearing only pajama pants as he plodded around the kitchen. She’d been so busy the past few weeks with back-to-school shopping and beginning-of-term projects they’d barely spent any time together. Seeing him bare chested, hair tousled from bed, reminded her that it had been a while. Too long. Her stomach fluttered from a combination of longing for Eric and fear that her house might be burning.

Jessica slammed the door of the minivan shut, breathing in deeply to see if she could catch any hint of smoke in the air. Nothing. As she opened the front door, another scent greeted her instead. The incredibly delightful aroma of…waffles. Why does the house smell like waffles? She rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw the waffle maker on the counter with Eric poised before it, faded jeans slung low on his narrow hips, a t-shirt clinging to his muscular back, dark hair still damp from a shower hanging loosely into his eyes. A wave of heat washed over her, settling between her legs. Her mouth watered from thoughts of more than just a bite of the waffle Eric was lifting out of the grates.

“Perfect timing,” he said, grinning so wide the dimples on his cheeks were positively cavernous. Blue eyes twinkled at her, full of mischief.

“What are you doing?” She tossed her purse onto the counter, mystified.

“Celebrating Mother’s Day.” He plucked a strawberry out of the colander in the sink, swirled it in a bowl of what appeared to be freshly whipped cream, and approached.

“Mother’s Day is in May. It’s October fifteenth.”

“I know.” He held the plump red berry close enough that she felt the gentle brush of cream melting against her lips. “I was thinking it was something we should celebrate more than once a year.”

She curled her tongue around the cream-covered berry and gave a quick suck before biting off a piece.

The moan Eric emitted sent a tremor rolling down her body, making her knees weak. His lips were on hers before she finished chewing. The sweetness of his velvety tongue blended perfectly with the fruit and cream. This was already better than any Mother’s Day she could recall.

AUTHOR INFORMATION

Karen Stivali is a prolific writer, compulsive baker, and chocoholic with a penchant for books,
movies, and fictional British men. When she's not writing, she can be found cooking extravagant meals and serving them to family and friends, who never seem to mind the excessive quantities she tends to prepare. She attributes her ability to multitask to the fact that she rarely sleeps, which gives her more hours every day. Prior to deciding to write full time, Karen worked as a hand-drawn animator, a clinical therapist, and held various food-related jobs ranging from waitress to specialty cake maker. Planning elaborate parties and fundraisers takes up what's left of her time and sanity.

Karen has always been fascinated by the way people relate to one another, so she favors books and movies that feature richly detailed characters and their relationships. In her own writing she likes to explore the dynamics between characters and has a tendency to craft romantic tales filled with sarcasm and sexy details. Although she writes in three genres (erotic romance, contemporary romance, and women's fiction), all of her stories are love stories with happily ever after endings.

Karen has published several erotic romance novels with Ellora's Cave including two award-winning stories: Always You (published September 2011, First Place Winner of the RWA Passionate Plume Award - 2012); Marry Me (published June 2012, First Place Winner in the NEC-RWA Bean Pot Reader's Choice Award - 2013); and Decadence (July 2013).

Her works of women's fiction, Meant To Be, and its sequel, Holding On (published by Turquoise Morning Press in August and November 2012, respectively), both made the Best of 2012 list at Literati Literature Lovers.

Karen's contemporary romances Then, Again (May 2013) and Leave the Lights On (coming November 2013) are published with Samhain Publishing.

To learn more about Karen, you can visit her website karenstivali.com where she blogs original recipes, sassy commentary on The Bachelor, and tidbits about her journey in the writing world. Karen can also be found attempting witty banter on Twitter: http://twitter.com/karenstivali

Friday, April 5, 2013

Please Welcome Allie Ritch with "Husbandry"!

Want to win an e-book copy of Husbandry? Include your e-mail address in a comment here and/or on Allie’s home page now through 4/7/13 and, if you’re so inclined, like Allie’s Amazon page. If you leave comments in both blog locations, you’ll have two entries in the giveaway.

What do you think about having three husbands?

Blurb

After turning to Genetic Harmony Inc. for a husband, Fila Leonard doesn’t get just one man to meet her needs, but three! Chuck is the consummate handyman around the house, and he looks sexy in a tool belt and nothing else. Charles fills out a business suit to perfection and uses his alpha personality in the bedroom as well as the boardroom. As for Chad, he can seduce a woman in more than one language and turn even the worst cliché into a romantic fantasy.

Fila should be deliriously happy. Instead, she’s having a hard time juggling everyone’s needs. Chuck is cooped up at home all day and anxious for children. Charles is a workaholic, and Chad is angry she hasn’t introduced the three of them to her parents. Oh, yeah, and Fila hasn’t told Mom and Dad about her genetically identical spouses yet.

It’s not easy being a married woman, not even with three perfect mates.

Excerpt (explicit):

“Chad! Oh God.” I grasped the back of his head.

His onyx curls wrapped around my fingers and tickled my thighs as he licked the juices from my opening. Then he puckered his lips over my clit and sucked on it like it was the sweetest treat in the world. My belly clutched, and waves of pleasure tumbled through my womb.

“Please. More.” I was reduced to one-word begging.

I pushed his head closer and ground my hips against his marauding mouth. He redoubled his efforts, alternating between my clit and the weeping opening of my vagina. Speed and pressure increased until I whined with every heavy breath. He used his superior strength to pin my hips so I couldn’t buck him off target.

A warning tremor ran up the walls of my channel—a precursor to the orgasm poised to strike. Although his oral attentions were nothing short of masterful, my climax remained out of reach. The tension still mounted in my core until I was sure it would break me.

Just when I thought I’d die from the strain, Chad did something special with his tongue. He gave my clit a slow, sinuous stroke before spurring it into a rapid flutter. In the same moment, he shoved two fingers into me and pressed up on the perfect spot.

I flew apart. My whole passage clenched and shuddered in bliss, spilling more cream onto his invading fingers. He continued to deliver languorous licks to my clit until the last aftershock of my orgasm faded. The withdrawal of his fingers made me whimper.

“What a picture you make.” Chad stood and looked down at me from the foot of the bed. “I wish I could paint you like this.”

I could only imagine how erotic such a portrait would look, especially since I didn’t have the strength to close my legs.

Very deliberately, he slipped his fingers into his mouth and sucked my juices from them. “Deliziosa.”

He looked pretty delicious himself, especially when he dropped his pants. Chad often went commando, which cut back on the suspense. His cock was as long and hard as I’d ever seen it, so darkly flushed it looked ready to burst. Precum didn’t just well up at the tip; it spilled over the head and glistened in the candlelight.

I sat up for a better look and watched his magnificent cock bob as he climbed back on the bed. The turgid stalk stood proud and erect, especially as he sat in the center of the mattress and held his arms open for me. Eagerness propelled me forward so that my breasts hit his chest at the same time my mouth reclaimed his. I spread my thighs wide to straddle his lap.

Author Bio and Links 

Allie Ritch spends her time wandering around in her own little world in the Southeastern United States. She has an active imagination and loves fantastical elements, including those found in sci-fi, paranormal, and fantasy works. Allie enjoys entertaining others through storytelling and has fun spicing things up in erotic romance.

Website/Blog: http://allieritch.wordpress.com
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/allieritch
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/AllieRitch
Loose Id Buy Link for Husbandry: http://www.loose-id.com/authors/a-f/allie-ritch.html

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Please Welcome Liz Crowe and Her Book, "Mutual Release"

There are some awesome prizes this author is giving away, so make sure to stop at all the blogs!

  • Grand Prize: Paperwhite Kindle
  • 1st Prize: Signed set of first 6 books (Includes all books in the series except Mutual Release)
  • 2nd Prize: boxed set of first 3 Stewart Realty ebooks (Floor Time, Sweat Equity, Closing Costs)
  • 3rd Prize: Zazzle store Stewart swag pack (including canvas tote bag, mug, t-shirt, keychain)


Find all the tour stops here.

Blurb

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ book with erotic BDSM scenes and explicit language.

Can two dark souls ever make a light?

As president of her own distribution company, Julie Dawson has all she ever wanted -- money, power, and respect. But her carefully crafted façade conceals a torment of abuse and helplessness. After years remaining emotionally aloof, she is finally independent, but alone. Because she refuses to rely on anyone but herself ever again.

Evan Adams is no stranger to success, or personal demons. The horrific trauma that destroyed his twin sister, and tore his family apart, forced him to craft a new life from the ashes of the old. He's content enough, focusing ahead and not dwelling on his murky past. But something important is missing. He knows what that thing is but refuses to acknowledge it.

When a chance encounter brings these two strong-willed but damaged people together, what seems like a long, erotic journey through hell could lead them to a match made in heaven.

Mutual Release 

A coming of age novel about trust...on the long road to love.


An Excerpt

A leather chair appeared from the gloom. Evan looked around, then took the seat, disappointed but intrigued. He could hear Jack’s voice, his laughter low and inviting. What the fuck? Was Gordon getting in on action while he had to watch? Then he heard Jenna’s annoying giggle and realized the club must be making her watch too, only she got to do it with her date. He sighed, leaned back, and prepared himself to be underwhelmed.

“No,” a sexy, rough female voice broke through the clamor in his head. It must have surprised everyone because all the people on the couches glanced up. “I want him. Out here.” Evan looked straight at her and saw the hot-as-shit Domme point her bullwhip right at him. He gulped, actually looked around like a dork, thinking there must be someone behind him. He was no sub.

She crooked her finger, her ruby-red moist lips drawing his gaze and making him feel positively hypnotized. His cock kept up its painful pressure along the inside of his zipper. A drop of sweat formed on his temple but he couldn’t move his arms to brush it away. All he knew… was her.

“Mr. Adams,” the disembodied voice said. “Your presence has been requested by our Mistress. Please. Do not make her wait.” The sheer curtain separating him from the crowd parted as he stood. Shoving his hands in his pockets and no longer aware of anything at all but what he wanted right now, he took the few steps down to the main floor.

“Stop!” She held up a hand. “Do not come any closer until I tell you.” She snapped her fingers. A tall man dressed only in leather pants emerged from somewhere to her left. A woman approached him, smiling and holding out a tray filled with… He stared, then shook his head, backing away, his brain on fire and his body in flight mode. “Where are you going, slave?” The woman cracked her whip. Evan sensed its bite near his cheek.

“I am no one’s slave,” he croaked out, sounding like a whiney kid.

“Perhaps. But I am not just anyone.” Before he could catch a breath, the woman was in his space. He kept his hands at his sides, knowing if he touched her he would be punished. Her full lips were inches from his. She leaned in, placed a tender kiss on his cheek, then stepped back.

“The Mistress has chosen!” the voice boomed and the room heaved a collective sigh. Evan whipped his head around, suddenly terrified and hornier than he had been in his entire existence. He closed his eyes as a loud whooshing sound started echoing around in his head in perfect time with his heartbeat. He held his ground, biting the inside of his cheek raw to keep from falling to his knees and kissing his way up her shiny patent leather shoe. The woman stood, the cape-like cloak draped around her tall, perfect body. He couldn’t move and had no idea what to do now anyway.

She took two long steps and was back in his space, tugging his tie, lifting it free of his collar and letting her lips linger over his, tempting, teasing, and bringing his body to full attention from his scalp to his toes. What in the hell was going on here? He was a sub? But the whooshing sound would not stop; it deafened him and he started to shake. The woman put her hands on his shoulders and kept kissing him just enough to make him insane.

Disembodied hands removed his suit coat. Then, with a powerful jerk, She ripped his dress shirt into two scraps of expensive cotton that hung from his wrists.

His nipples hardened, his skin broke out in goose bumps. More bodiless hands unfastened his cuffs and took what remained of his shirt away. The woman kept smiling, trailing her fingertip down his chest. Evan’s lungs hurt he was breathing so hard.

“You are very…” She leaned in and touched her tongue to a nipple, making him gasp.

“In need of…” She licked her way across his chest to the other hardened nub of flesh and bit, hard, making him yelp and grunt to distract himself from coming in his trousers. “A lesson in what it means to wield control.”

She unfurled the whip, keeping her lips on his skin, licking and nibbling her way up his neck as he stood, fists clenched and teeth grinding. Then she bit down on his lower lip, bringing tears to his eyes and yet more urgency to fuck. What was happening to him?

“Sit.” She shoved him down. Evan dropped, hoping someone had put a chair there. His ass hit leather and wood. Watching mesmerized as she dug a sharp heel into his still- covered thigh. The pulsing behind his zipper had reached a level he’d never experienced. It was as if he were already coming, in his head, trying to relieve the pressure without actually ejaculating. This was a total goddamn trip. He sighed, looked up at the ceiling. “Don’t look away from me, slave.” Her rough voice made the whooshing sound return between his ears. She snapped her fingers. Two nearly naked women scuttled to his side, undid his belt, unzipped his pants, and pulled off his shoes while removing his trousers, leaving only his tie and boxers.

“Holy fucking mother of… ah!” he cried out, unable to stop when the woman stood over him, her warm, inviting sex right at his eye level. Other hands rubbed, teased him through his underwear. But he kept his eyes trained up as he sucked in a lungful of her heady scent.

“You think this is all there is, don’t you, boy?” The woman’s voice filled his head.

“Your giant cock and what you can do with it.” She stepped away from him, flicking her whip at his inner thighs, breaking up the pleasure with a bite of pain that made him curse and lean forward. The lovely, soft hands that had been on his aching shaft disappeared. “Oh no you don’t. You sit; you take, and you do not come. For any reason. If you do, I will make you very,” she slid the handle of the whip along his reddened inner leg, “very sorry. Are we clear? Dear?”

Author Information

Microbrewery owner, best-selling author, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz lives in the great Midwest, in a major college town. Years of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse, plus making her way in a world of men (i.e. the beer industry), has prepped her for life as erotic romance author.

When she isn't sweating inventory and sales figures for the brewery, she can be found writing, editing or sweating promotional efforts for her latest publications.

Her groundbreaking romance subgenre, “Romance for Real Life,” has gained thousands of fans and followers who are interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”)

Her beer blog a2beerwench.com is nationally recognized for its insider yet outsider views on the craft beer industry. Her books are set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch and in high-powered real estate offices. Don’t ask her for anything “like” a Budweiser or risk painful injury. 

www.lizcrowe.com
www.brewingpasssion.com
www.a2beerwench.com
www.facebook.com/lizcroweauthor
www.twitter.com/beerwencha2
www.facebook.com/groups/romanceforreallife
www.facebook.com/jackgordonrealtor

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