Brandy Walker Interview and Amazon Gift Card Giveaway

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A little Ruby for the Holidays

Hi guys and dolls, today I have Jettie Nicole on my blog author of Ruby, book one in a paranormal regency romance series. Come say hello!

RUBY BLURB:

Ruby unites the seductive and sinister actions of the supernatural with the allure and elegance of a Regency romance.

A historical romance begins to blossom around Lady Ruby Waterfield, but family secrets and unpredictable suitors expose a world of supernatural creatures—ancient enemies bound by war: vampires and warlocks.

Set in 1811 England, Ruby finally attends her first London Season at the age of eighteen. After departing from her safe, secluded childhood in the country, she quickly discovers that taking her rightful place among the aristocracy is the least of her worries after she becomes the target of a vindictive vampire. Determined to learn the truth about her family bloodlines, this clever debutante must navigate her pursuit while two gentlemen—one, her loyal best friend; the other, a mysteriously handsome stranger—grow increasingly tied to her future. From the dark alleys of Covent Garden to the lavish balls of the high society ton, clandestine agendas leave Ruby's heart exposed to a dangerous new world of mystery, magic, and love.

Ruby is the first novel in the Tree of Blood series that takes root in exposing the origins of supernatural bloodlines.

RUBY EXCERPTS

#1 EXCERPT

The knob turned and her stomach leapt. Is it him! A sudden rush of fear overcame her. She closed her eyes and she listened. She heard the door open, and footfalls stopped beside her bed. She waited, but not a word was spoken. She continued to pretend she was asleep while whoever was in the room stood above her. 

She did not know how much longer she could bear it, not seeing who was there. Relief passed through her body when she heard the figure step away from the bed. Soon I will be alone again. She waited for the door to shut, but the sound did not come. The person was still there.

She heard a deep laugh, but she did not dare look. Then she heard the voice. It was deep and amused. "You hide your thoughts well, but it is silly for you to pretend you're asleep. No one will harm you."

She opened her eyes to find a strange man above her.

"Ahh," he sighed. "Your eyes are the color of jade. I imagined them to be dark, like your hair. How strange."

She continued to stare at him without a word. His figure loomed over her, and he stared at her with large, black eyes, like those of a bird, she thought. His thin, black hair fell past his chin, making him appear delicate, almost beautiful. His lips curved to a smile.

"I find you just as beautiful, my dear," he said. 

His statement shocked her; it was as if he'd read her thoughts.

"Yes, I know what you think presently, but…." He paused for a moment. "Not all of them. You keep something hidden from me. Hmm, how strange. Very well. It seems you are more interesting than I first thought."

"What is it that you want?" she spat out.

"Oh, please do not start with that nonsense," he chided. "My plans are not for you to know. However, I will assure you that now I have seen you, I plan to keep you, at least for a while."

#2 Excerpt

Ruby studied the man's attire. His black coat was soaked. He must have been caught in the wind and rain, she noted. The clothing was basic, nothing impressive. He is impressive, though, she thought. His disheveled appearance could not hide his attractive qualities. And at first sight she could have sworn she'd come upon a character from one of her books—the gallant prince turned pirate. Perhaps it was his tall, strong form and unshaven face that gave him such a roguish appearance. It also wasn't hard to look into his blue eyes, which peered out from beneath his lengthy wet mop of black hair.

His deep voice interrupted her thoughts. "Do you usually keep your visitors waiting?"

"Not the visitors I have been expecting," she remarked with a smile.

"It seems that you've tortured me long enough," he said with a wink. 

"I think the rain has done more than I," she mocked, motioning toward his apparel.

He remembered his appearance and ran a hand through his damp hair. He felt nervous and didn't understand why. "Please excuse my appearance," he apologized.

Review Snippets:

"The writing is very detailed and the book is nice and long and has a lot of meat on its bones. The characters are very nuanced and each character is a work of art. There are lots of plot twists and turns. It starts out like any historical romance and then takes a hard left turn – if you've ever seen or read “The Hunt for Red October,” then you might say Necole is a master user of “Crazy Ivans.”

-Danielle Goodwin

"Once I started reading I was completely absorbed and hooked. Jettie Necole weaves an intriguing and detailed story of Regency England where Vampires and other unnatural creatures roam the night undetected by normals."

-Joy for Crystal's Many Reviewers

"It was a fast paced book with love, mystery, suspense, and even some funny laugh out loud moments."

-Tonya Nichols @ Eye Candy Bookstore

"The storyline was unique and engaging. It blended history, paranormal, romance, and suspense beautifully creating a wonderful masterpiece. There is also plenty of action and drama to keep you on the edge of your seat and flipping page after page wondering what happens next."

-Ashley Martinez

"Twists and turns I never saw coming had me gripping my kindle for dear life waiting to see what happened next. Not to mention the young men in this book, Fredrick & Druvirro, mysterious yet handsome. The ending got me good, begging for more."

 -panty dropping book blog~~brittany

RUBY TRAILER

RUBY LINKS TO BUY:

Amazon

Barnes & Noble:

iTunes

Smashwords

AUTHOR LINKS:

Jettie Necole website

Amazon: Author Page 

Facebook: Fan Page

Goodreads: Author Page

AUTHOR BIO:

Jettie Necole is the author of The Vault and Ruby. She has created two new series—A dystopian society forced underground and a paranormal war among ancient enemies. Both have characters forced into new and unusual situations. Although survival is always key, the search for love is never far away.

Born and raised in Kentucky, she spent most of her time daydreaming, taking photos, shooting movies, reading and watching Star Trek and Highlander. Having a passion for the art of storytelling and the dynamics of film production, she earned a bachelor's degree in Film & Television from the University of Texas at Austin, during which she wrote, directed, and edited her own films. After graduation she moved to Los Angeles where she worked in the Film and Television industry. Currently she lives in Louisville, Kentucky with her husband and their fluffy Goldendoodle named Oliver. 

When she's not writing she loves reading and watching anything with romance, action, sci-fi and horror.

So...A Vlog

I have one simple question today, my dearest guys and dolls. If I were to start a vlog, would anyone watch it? I have no idea what I would vlog about, other than my dachshund, hot men on The Vampire Diaries and Spartacus, books, and general writing whoha. Would that float people's boats? Would I have to do something catchy to get people to watch along? Is anyone really going to answer me in the comments section?

These are the questions I pose to you, oh great universe. Now I'm going to keep reading Dragonfly in Amber...because Jamie.

An Interview with K.J. Coakley

 Hi K. J., thanks so much for submitting to an interrogation...I mean, uh, interview, over at my place! It was lovely to meet you and I can't wait to pick up your new book.

1. Why did you get started writing? 

I have always had an active imagination, so I guess in some respect it was a way to express my creative side. I enjoy creating characters with complicated quarks and tragic pasts. When I hit a road block...plot twists happen. 

2. What was the first real joy you had when writing professionally? 

My second novel Metanoia was the first book where I felt like I had finally connected with my writers voice. Kairos was really a trial and error kind of book for me. I needed to learn what worked and what didn't, and I feel like I accomplished that. 

3. What was/is your biggest pitfall? 

As I write my third novel I find myself steering clear of third person POV. It's not that I can't write from that perspective, it's just that it feels forced. My characters live out their stories in present tense/first person POV, and if I divert from that voice I feel a certain level of disconnect with the story. So, I write what my characters tell me to write and in the exact voice that comes to me. 

4. What did you learn while writing? 

The greatest thing about writing is taking aspects from different genres and combining them to make your own work unique. 

5. What’s your favorite sexual position to write? 

Ha, this is a tricky one. Tied up and face down...does that work? My characters sure think it does. 

6. What’s your favorite genre to read? 

I'll read just about anything so long as it has a romantic theme woven into the plot. 

7. If you could be one fairytale character for a day who would it be? 

Snow White! The chick was living with seven guys. Need I say more? 

8. Who are your author inspirations? Sherrilyn Kenyon, Karen Marie Moning, and Diana Gabaldon

9. Socks or Slippers? Socks. Especially the fuzzy fleece ones. 

10. Handcuffs or fuzzy tickler? 

Handcuffs. Because nothing allows you to experience the ultimate pleasure more than the complete surrender of oneself. 

11. Where do you see yourself in a year as an author? 

I have realistic expectations so I'm not going to say as a NYT best selling author. What I will say is this...I hope to release five books within the next year. I hope to garner respect and admiration from my fellow authors and readers. I hope to build a devoted and loyal fan base for my books. But more than anything, I just want to write really really great books. 

12. What are your new releases? 

Metanoia released Oct 28th and I'm currently working on a dark erotic romance stand alone. 

13. What are you working on now? 

Desire's Deception is the title for my WIP and I expect to release it in Feb. 

About The Author

Author K. J. Coakley lives a life where she plays many roles…as most women do when they are a wife, mother, and caretaker of two rowdy dogs. But when she’s not working her nine to five gig, or spending time with her family, she can be found glued to her laptop where she loves to create worlds with sexy alpha males and brazen heroines. She is also an avid fan of heavy metal and rock music, and regularly attends music festivals.

Coakley received an Associate degree in Business Administration from Walters State Community College, and a Bachelor of Business Management degree from East Tennessee State University. Her debut novel Kairos is the inaugural installment of a new paranormal romance series.

Amazon Author Page:amazon.com/author/kjcoakley

Newsletter Sign Up: 

https://madmimi.com/signups/123290/join

Website:

www.kjcoakley.com

Facebook: 

www.facebook.com/authorkjcoakley

Twitter: www.twitter.com/@authorkjcoakley

Kairos Buy Links: (Kairos is free on Amazon, IBooks, and Smashwords)

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00KYVS0NO

B&N: http://bit.ly/1sl8P25

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1EftNpP

Metanoia Buy Links: 

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00N70PWHQ

B&N: http://bit.ly/1tdCfCL

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1pCE4et

Sent from my iPhone

Threesome Recipe with Special Guest Louisa Bacio

Recipe for a Threesome

Thanks so much to Elise hosting me today. It’s that time of year where we slave in the kitchen, slather on the chocolate sauce, dip in champagne and jump in bed. Wait, there’s some mixing going on there. Am I talking cooking or writing?

What happens when you take five edgy authors, and set them free on a ménage box set? The answer is the Three Times Lucky box set. The process of creation was just as fun as the product.

In order to whip up a steamy threesome, here are my suggested ingredients:

Inhibitions Gone: If you’re worried about what people will think, it’s going to hold you back. Right now, you want it all out there.

Charismatic Players: We don’t want no cheaters or haters. The reader must like all the players individually before they like them together.

Balance: Measure it out. If we really think two of the characters are MFEO (made for each other), we’ll be wishing the third falls off a cliff.

Diversity: Maybe it’s just me, but I love variance in body size and hair color. I don’t want someone sleeping with his/her brother. (We’re not talking Flowers in the Attic.) If I’m thinking multiple ingredients, I want one of each flavor.

Naughty-naughty: Yes, polyamorous relationships can be built on love and trust and friendship. Ahem. But if I’m reading a ménage, I want to read about hot sex and lots of it.

How about you? Tell me: What do you look for in a ménage story? Enter to win one of my backlist books. Leave a comment and valid email address. Winner will be chosen on Sunday, Dec. 7, 7 p.m. PST or so.

Louisa Bacio

http://louisabacio.blogspot.com

http://www.Facebook.com/LouisaBacio

http://www.Twitter.com/LouisaBacio

Three Times Lucky Box Set

Three is never a crowd in this alluring boxed set of ménage stories from five of today's hottest authors. From Sci-fi adventures, to Greek Gods, to erotic vampires, to contemporary tales, these sexy shorts prove sometimes it takes three to get lucky in love.

Made For Two by Kim Carmichael


Since the day she rescued her Earthlings, Trevini of Mersenne, has tried and failed to get her two males to lower their inhibitions and bring them together in the traditional triad of her planet. Though fighting their own attraction not only to Trevini, but to each other, all astronauts Markov Gauss and Pell Perrin want is for the beautiful alien who saved them is to choose between them. However, after almost losing her life, Trevini must somehow convince Markov and Pell that she is made for two.

Darkest Dreams by Solera Winters


The darkest hour holds the hope of light. 
While Nyx loves her husband, Kiernan, she knows something is missing. When sexy Reve comes on the scene will it split them apart, or create more passion than they've ever known? In 'Darkest Dreams,' Solera Winters presents a ménage tale about the Greek gods of night, darkness and dreams.

A Perfect Fit by Sascha Illyvich


Will Ivanka realize the truth of being in a triad or will her fear of ultimate rejection hold her back from total happiness?

Playtime by Dorothy F. Shaw


High-powered executive, Dana Richards can’t seem to get enough of his favorite exotic dancers at the Red Panther Gentleman’s Club.
RayAnne and Kyra are the feature act; putting on a vampire performance you can sink your teeth into—complete with fangs, and the sexual lure only a creature of the night can offer.
But when Kyra makes Dana a proposition he can’t refuse, some intimate playtime, the arrogant executive gets more than he bargained for: The sex of his life. Plus two, undeniably real vampires.

Ménage By Monday by Louisa Bacio


What can happen in three days? When three friends—Tommy, Zack and Shannon—come together, the oddball threesome discovers they share some intense sexual fantasies. 
While reminiscing about old times, more than the usual stories come out. It’ll take some stripped-down honesty, heated arguments and naughty bedtime tales for a Ménage By Monday.

Available via Amazon

Black Friday Blowout

I've never been Black Friday shopping before--until this year. Crowds? Not my thing. Shopping? Totally my thing. But I've never wanted to brave the madness and kill myself for a dollar off a ripped up teddy bear. Until this year thanks to my new "embracing life" philosophy and I'm doing my best to say yes to as many things as possible. Somewhere along the way I forgot to say "yes" and became a little bit of a hermit, thanks to my introvert status.

Anywho, because of my random adventure into the land of crazy shopping sprees I'm giving 15 of my readers the opportunity to own a copy of Ex-Retreat for free today until midnight. Comment below with your weirdest Thanksgiving story.

Mine involved mashed potatoes, eye surgery, lots of pain meds, and a big ol' mess. I'll leave the rest to your imagination.

Have a kick ass day,
Elise

Thanksgiving Thankfulness

Normally on a day devoted to warm memories and food I would be stuffing my face with the caloric intake of Attila the Hun, but, since pancreaentitis that's become a little harder for me. Mainly because I don't ingest fats or sugars anymore. Good for my waistline, bad for the holidays. So, instead, I've decided to celebrate sans food with a little countdown of some of my favorite Thanksgiving things as well as things I'm thankful for this year.

1. First off, my career, which, ya know, duh.


2. Pumpkin Pie Spice, because even though I can't eat pumpkin pie, I still adore marketing's attempt at injecting it into everything this holiday season.

3. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer Thanksgiving Episode, because syphalis.

4. My new puppy, Quinn, who's made this year one whole heck of a lot better. She's an amazing addition to our fur family.

5. The ability to travel.

6. Making time and being with friends.

7. My readers.

8. My favorite authors.

9. Warm baths with audio books and chocolate scented candles.

10. Reading christmas romances before the holidays.

Not Chilled November

Today I'm over on Romancing The Rakes for Not Chilled November with Ex-Retreat.

The Very Best of Sommer, But, Really, It's ALL Good...

I have been in awe of Sommer Marden since about forever, though I think we started writing erotica and erotic romance at the same time, she quickly become one of my main inspirations. Her voice was so beautifully casual and complex, like talking to your best friend in a rom-com without all the fakeness and a twist of angst. It made little bits of my soul bounce up and down whenever I picked up one of her books. So, in honor of my writing crush, I figured I'd pay tribute to some of my favorite books. In no particular order. Let's do this bitch.

1. We Kill Dead Things

Poppy thinks her life is weird working the food court at Parktowne mall, until in one brief moment of creeper killing, things change forever. Now she's a freelance zombie exterminator along with her long lusted after co-worker Garrity (her not-so-secret crush), a somewhat lusted after bad boy Cahill, and pretty gay boy Noah. 

When the four are hired to do a ballsy zombie clean up at St. Peter's Hospital, Poppy finds out just what's more scary than creepers: The Evoluminaries, a zealot cult who think zombies are part of God's chosen, who happen to end up thinking Poppy might make a mighty good zombie incubator. She finds herself finally sleeping with Garrity, being hunted by a crazy preacher man and stumbling over the fact that Cahill and Noah have become lovers somewhere in the chaos. And that's all on the job. 

Just another day in the life when you kill dead things...

2. Base Nature

When Garrett Gustafson breaks from his pack, it’s all about distance. He doesn’t expect to meet a long-tortured woman or someone he wants so bad his teeth damn near ache. He most definitely doesn’t expect to meet a woman he’d even consider changing. Changing is frowned upon and dangerous. But Liv McCoy not only captures his heart, she tempts him. Tempts him to take her, to change her and even to love her.Liv McCoy has been the weak one all her life. All she wants is a little power. When Garrett shows up she feels an unspeakable pull. Not just to give herself over to him in bed, but to offer all of herself—heart, body and soul. Garrett can give her power. She just needs to convince him that she can handle the change. And his love.

3. Restless Spirit

"I believe you can look at someone—maybe one someone in your whole life—and feel this instant connection. A zap like lightning."

When Tuesday Cane inherits a cozy lake house, she's not expecting to find love as part of her legacy. But how can she choose between Adrian, the loyal and über-sexy handyman she's known for years; the charming and wealthy Reed Green, a former TV star; and the mysterious Shepard Moore, an ex cage fighter?

The only way to know for sure is to try them all...

Surrounded by so many interesting men and erotic temptations, Tuesday as no intention of committing. But deep down she longs for that special, soul-deep connection. Only, which man can entice this restless spirit into finally settling down?

4. Lost in You

Trapped inside a luxury mall during a violent storm, small town girl, Clover Brite, is thrust into the arms of international playboy Dorian Martin. Lightning strikes inside the building as well as outside…

Clover is the site manager for the renovation of the Baltimore Rotunda and first meets the owner, Dorian, when the 'storm of the century' traps the two of them inside the luxury mall. Upscale stores surround them and all are available at the end of Dorian's keyring, and though money doesn't impress her much, they begin to fall for each other.

Too aware of the differences between them and struggling with angst from her childhood, Clover flees back to her small town world. Dorian follows in hot pursuit. But will Clover realise that what happened that stormy night could lead to a future?

5. Big Bad

Lust according to Ruby: 

You read those books where they explain it all away. They make it fine with rationalization. But what if I just want to? What if that's my whole reason? My life is not a romance novel. I don’t need justification. I’m a grown woman who knows what she wants. 

I want Ellis. And I want Tyler. 

And I won’t apologize...

What’s worse than wanting both your best friend who’s a vampire and the just-back-in-town alpha werewolf you find yourself fixated on? Finding out that the werewolf in question wants you, too. But he isn’t too keen on the sharing part. 
Oh, and by the way, you’re his dead mate.

Okay, okay, dead is harsh—reincarnated.

What’s worse than that? Realizing that you believe the whole crazy tale of reincarnation. Because it seems to be true.

And yet you still want them both—together. Vampire and werewolf and you in the middle. Stuck between two predators who want you and only you. To complicate it all, you find out that you can have it. With your new/old mate’s blessing. But just one time before he claims you as his. 

Are you brave enough to take it? That one shot?

Well...Are you?

6. Boys Next Door

Never in her hottest dreams did Farrell McGee expect a move to Tower Terrace to be such an erotic roller coaster ride. Indulge in another hot story from Mischief.

‘Good luck getting your key. I’m the middle house across the road should you need anything. At all,’ he said. The tone, the words, the accent on the anything. Oh god, he was one of those men. Men who had tons of self assurance and sexual prowess and total faith in their bedroom abilities. Those men were dangerous.’

Starting over at twenty eight, Farrell McGee discovers sleepy Tower Terrace teeming with handsome men. Well, maybe not teeming, but three heart-stopping men do live across the road from her.

Despite feeling she's fallen backwards into a fairytale, complete with a big stone tower, a local legend and missing love letters, it becomes clear that all three of her neighbours have a sensual grip on her. She's powerless to choose just one, and just as powerless to get them out of her head or her bed. Deke, the devilish good boy who's superb at being bad. Coop, so often annoying in his gruffness, but oh so dominant where it counts. And Stephen the pretty, sweet, slightly submissive one. Her sex life has never been so good and her heart never so torn. She needs to choose one man, when she's not ready to give up any of them. But deep down she knows who she wants.

7. Allure

May’s been lusting after Chase Campbell forever. Her brain goes dirty instantly with this man. Just controlling the urge to knock him down and climb aboard is a struggle. So when he shows up for their first date and May realizes she’s ovulating and is about to become a sexual booby trap, she panics.See, Chase doesn’t know she’s a shifter. Yet. She hasn’t quite gotten to that part. So now all she has to do is this—go on the date, not look directly at him, not touch him, no kissing, no hugging. Tada! Easy.Until he touches her. Then touches her some more. And then she touches him and… Well, this isn’t going to be easy at all. Damn.

8. Wanderlust

Really Blake is floundering through a life that doesn't make her happy. She realizes the humor in the poor little rich girl scenario, but it doesn't make it any less true. She's married to the man her father picked and having mindless affairs to punish them all. Really thinks Johnny Rose will be one more affair in that vein. Big, brawny, shaved bald and bad-ass, he's just what she's craving. Until he puts her in her place--right off the bat. Then Really's intrigued. But once he gets her in his bed...then Really's hooked. What follows is a road trip, east coast to west, and an amazing amount of self discovery, sexual and otherwise, along the way.

9. The Best of Sommer Marsden

Xcite have brought together no fewer than twenty-seven of her very best works (representing superb value for money). From light and comedic to edgy and intense this fine collection of hand picked ‘dirty’ runs through the entire gamut of erotic fiction. Stories which include a supernatural ménage, a captivating Dom who takes control of a crowded house party, and a husband encouraging his wife to take advantage of a girl’s crush. Excellent! Jade Magazine Book Reviews

From edgy and intense, to light and comedic, this collection of over twenty hand-picked dirty tales runs the gamut of erotic fiction.

Stories include a supernatural spurred ménage, a captivating Dom who takes control at a crowded house party, an irresistible alpha who makes recycling kind to the body and the planet. A husband encouraging his wife to take advantage of a girl crush and a woman who can’t help but lose herself between two of her two best friends in a night of passion. A curvaceous woman gets stuck in her boot—that’s right, just one—before an important interview with a handsome applicant and a public spanking makes a young woman reconsider the disposable nature of her rebound guy. 

Find out why Sommer Marsden’s been called “…one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue), “Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler) and “…the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen). It’s all right here in this collection. All you have to do is step inside.

10.  Long Lost

What's a girl to do once she's gotten her wolf? Spend Christmas in the belly of the beasts...or at least their Town. Ruby's loving her new life until a single phone call makes her knees go weak, bringing the near past back into her cozy present. Seems an old evil has returned in a brand new nasty package to take another swipe at Ruby. Ellis isn't about to let that happen, and neither are her friends, but Ruby discovers she will be the only one who can really do what needs to be done. And it turns out there are things at stake she never imagined. Things she's willing to die for.

I've had the amazing honor and pleasure of being slapped together between the pages with Sommer over the years and I cherish every instance with a little squee. I take my fangirling seriously, okay?

So, if you do nothing else today, buy one of her books. Review one of her books. Pet one of her books. Or, ya know,...I don't have an appropriate consequence, but do it, damn it! Do it now! She has been a pivotal part of helping my career whether it be offering me a helping hand or releasing another book which inspired me to write another one, even when I wanted to quit. She deserves a little pay it forward.

What's the moral here? Sommer, she wins at life.

It's just a jump to the left, and then a step to the right...

Not only is it Halloween, but it's also the debut of my first ever cozy mystery series, Deadlines: A Written to Death mystery. I know a lot of my readers are erotica and erotic romance fans, obviously, but if you're so inclined I'd love it if you checked out my obituary writer Ainsley Moss and her cooky family.

The first book in the series is currently only .99 cents for a limited time and it's a scary good bargain, if I don't say so myself. Deadlines is available wherever ebooks are sold including Barnes and Noble, Amazon, and Kobo.

Ainsley Moss never thought she’d become a representative for the dead. But as a newbie obituary writer for the Aurora Fall’s Guardian, she gets a sneak peek at her new profession. Her ex-best friend and rival newspaper worker turns up blue and stiff as a board in the women’s bathroom—after they’ve had a less than civil confrontation. 

Ainsley’s in the habit of memorializing the dead, not finding them. But now she’s saddled with a motive for murder—killing to drum up obituaries in order to further her career in a dying newspaper business where everything is going digital. 

When another victim meets his maker with a connection to the first victim, Ainsley has to make nice with a hard ass, bombshell Detective who’s dead set on closing the case or risk the calm of their cozy town. Ainsley’s charming, ex-boyfriend turned roommate Gage Sullivan comes to her aid as they throw themselves into deadly research. Every obituary interview brings them that much closer to finding a killer connection. While fighting her new rep as a prime suspect, her matchmaking, Stepford mother is intent on keeping her daughter’s dirty laundry under wraps and her sex addicted wealthy grandparents want to buy her way out of jail. Or at least help her learn how to make a shiv. 

None too thrilled with the idea of making friends with a cell mate named Betty the Bruiser, she’ll wade knee deep into a cesspool of the town’s secrets, gossip, and lies. But with a whacky cast of characters hell bent on keeping the peace, no bit of personal information is sacred. They have to find a killer—before Ainsley loses her freedom and her chance to make peace with a fate that scares her more than anything else in life. 

Amazon
B&N

Thank you for all your support, I love you guys and dolls! I'll be posting up pictures of my Halloween sometime tonight, so be on the lookout. We do it big here!

Have a kickass day,

Elise

Shake, Shake, Shake...

I'm all over my house dancing today to my 90's Pop playlist, considering a few plots, and putting together fun reader promo and I'm also all over the internet with a neato interview on You Gotta Read Reviews for Ex-Retreat my femdom contemporary erotic romance which is currently 2.99 at all online ebook vendors. If you'd like to take a peek you can learn a little more about me.

In the mean time, here's a snippet of Ex-Retreat to wet your whistle for a little bit more:

Chapter Two

“Mom, I know you went to a lot of trouble to arrange this getaway, but if you could tell me where I’m going, it would be appreciated. When you stuffed me in a town car claiming a spa weekend, I didn’t expect my trip to last for eight hours. I’m clearly not in the city anymore and you can’t expect me to not ask quest—.”

Beeeeep.

Chloe jabbed her finger across the end call button of her cell and threw it across the buttery, black leather seat. How many times was her mother going to let it go to voicemail? There was supposed to be a limit to how many calls a recorder could hold. She’d left a message about every twenty minutes since her mother pushed her into the car for her “spa session”. Whatever her mother’s scheme—it wasn’t relaxing. Plus her phone was low on battery and she had no clue if her mother had added a charger when she’d kindly, well, more like controlling packed for her daughter.

The black divider in front of her seat that separated the driver and passenger hummed down and clicked into place. Chloe raised her brows expecting some sort of explanation. Or maybe that was too much to hope since she’d been grilling the nice man for a few hours. She was sure the driver was paid well for his silence, it wasn’t as if her mother didn’t have piles of hush money. How was he even awake? They’d been driving most of the night and he hadn’t gotten one energy drink. Although he’d been sure to blindfold her for every bathroom break until she at the restroom and then he’d wait at the little hallway until she was done. Whenever she’d complained he was adamant that the trip was a surprise and it would remain one.

“We’re almost to your final destination, Miss,” The driver shot her a placid smile through the reflection of the rearview mirror while the divider slammed shut.

The majority of the trip there wasn’t much else to do but worry, wonder, and twist her hands in her lap until she sensed the early-onset of arthritis. After pestering the driver, Chloe realized she’d have to threaten to jump out of the car all together to get him to stop the car or pull over. Even a bought of pretend car sickness had only earned her a wink. At the very least her mother could have included some books or magazines along with the full bar. What would her socialite mother say if she saw her only daughter disheveled and sprawled out in the back of a hired car blowing her bangs up into the air?

Bring it on—it was better than the constant state of radio silence while the car sped through the night like a moving prison cell. Unlike normal cars this one had tinted windows making street signs a luxury. Not that it wasn’t illegal, or anything. All other avenues of help were tied up because her girlfriends were being wined and dined by the best of the male species—Valentine’s Day was a popular holiday, go figure. Not one single friend had answered their phone. Probably they were all set to vibrate so their night with that special someone—correction—latest obsession, didn’t throw their marriage plans and fantasies off course.

“Next stop on the bitter train, ticket for one,” Chloe mumbled.

Besides, it was early morning by now and all of her girls were probably hung over to boot.

With no other option but to endure her crazy mystery ride, she could at least indulge in a little backseat wine service courtesy of Mommy Dearest. There was a full bar and everyone else was celebrating, why not enjoy her least favorite holiday? With a quick jerk on the bottle opener, the cork popped out of the pink carbonated wine bottle. She shuffled the bottle opener in her lap scanning the interior of the car for a glass.

“Ah, what the hell.”

Chloe pursed her lips around the bottle taking a long, satisfying drag off a rare vintage that her mother had no doubt hand-selected to act as her wounded daughter’s only company. She rolled her shoulders, shaking off a grimace. Too crisp and dry, the wine molded to her taste buds making her smack her lips together trying to get some other flavor onto her palate.

How much time would it take to ruin the bottle? A silent challenge was struck as the cold bubbles slipped down her throat. Finish the bottle before she reached her super-secret spa destination—or she’d have to call Eric. Another hasty swig and she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. God, the stuff never tasted any better—but it was on now.

Chloe would rather be fall down drunk than face the disaster of her failed engagement via the dirtbag’s laptop webcam while he was in a third world country. How many times had she watched her ex-fiancé fiddle with the microphone on his headset until he could get the words out? Meanwhile, her stomach had rioted like she’d eaten too many tacos. But she’d held it together throughout the whole ordeal pretending not to notice the jerky, random movements under the table or the peek of long, straight brunette hair from his lap. Or her ex-finace’s strained expression.

She should have known—she did know—but it was better to avoid the situation than face reality. She’d turned the other cheek as her mother had taught her until the truth slapped her in the face.

Another swig. After two more it would probably be passable that their break-up hadn’t occurred mere hours ago. Nah, there wasn’t enough in the wine bottle to forget the last ten or so hours.

But there was enough to maybe forget the last couple of minutes.

Worth a shot.

“We’ve reached your destination, Miss. I’ll be back to pick you up in three days.”

It had only been twenty minutes, but the bottle was empty. Her door was open, the driver looking at her with a mixture of kind indulgence and worry, while she tried to skirt toward the edge of the seat without toppling ass over tea kettle. The driver bent into the car and Chloe gladly took his offered arm with a smile she imagined was akin to the Cheshire Cat it so badly hurt her cheeks.

But with only a little faltering on her nude ballerina flats she managed to exit the car and remain standing while the driver gathered her packed bags. No small feat as the ground tilted beneath her feet. Well, it wasn’t really ground, per-se, more like a bed of tiny seashells that pricked through the thick soles of her flats. She experimentally crunched them beneath her feet.

“Huh,” she remarked with a small sniff.

A large breath of briny, cool air slipped deep into her lungs. The soothing break of ocean waves crashed making her weave on her feet, licking her salty lips. Steps away from the car was a sprawling, sunlit beach calling for Chloe to wiggle her toes into the smooth sand and lay on her back to watch the vivid sunrise. The scenery was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Ah, the sentimental drunk phase.

“Miss, would you like me to carry these inside for you?”

“You don’t have to do that. I can do it myself, but thanks—”

Chloe stumbled on the way toward the trunk where he had been unloading the bags and caught herself against the side of the town car. Real smooth. Five points for the dismount and a lack of a broken ankle.

“I really think—” The middle aged, well-built driver’s white brows scrunched together as his lips thinned. Whatever he was about to say must have slipped his mind when he remembered what Mommy Dearest had probably paid him to shut up. Nice guy, though. She shot him a thankful grin.

“Oh, uh, that would be great.”

Chloe cleared her throat before wrapping her arms around her middle noticing the chill that pierced through her cardigan. With the gorgeous view and her wacky, wine-fueled thought patterns, it was hard to stay on track. To remember that it mattered where she currently was located for—apparently—the next three days, until the kind gentleman came to pick her up. Why did this experience have all the flavor of rehab without any of the fun before it?

After several calming breaths she was pretty sure she could walk her way up toward the looming, wooden-stilted house. It looked the same as any other shore house, more than three stories, sprawling, and a little weather beaten. She took her first tentative steps to the bleached back staircase listening to the sharp crash of waves, the rolling crunch of gravel beneath her suitcase, and the heavy soled shoes of her driver.

Only a few houses were dotted across the scrubby shoreline, far enough away that she supposed she’d still feel isolated. The one to the right seemed far enough off in the distance that it would be a hike. The back of her neck prickled as she smoothed a shaky hand into her hair. When she looked back all she saw was the sprawling, winding road they must have taken to get here. A black line of asphalt next to swamp, marsh grass, and sand. It looked more dirty than anything pretty—but to each their own, she guessed.

Strange that there was no sign out front for the “spa.” Any place her mother had deemed fit would have enough PR that their spa name would be attached to the back of a plane on a rippling banner flying overhead in the sky. But simple was good. Nice. So far the house almost seemed too good to be true. When she reached the top of the landing she stared at the front door with pale pink chipped paint. There was a logical sequence of events to follow, but hell if she could remember them in her tipsy haze.

Was knocking appropriate? It was kind of early and there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of lights on inside. But they had to have someone on staff at all times, right? Unclear on exactly how these things worked, Chloe settled for opening the squeaky screen door, leaning her forearm on the wooden house, and executing a polite, low knock.

But when she pulled back her hand her knuckles stung from the impact.

“Oops, maybe not so polite after all.”

“I’ll leave your bags here, Miss. Please be ready at eight in the morning when I come to collect you.”

“Wait—”

Seized with a sudden cramp of fear, she was halfway to grabbing the man’s thick bicep and begging him to stay. She sucked on her knuckles and refrained—but only because she didn’t want the story getting back to her mother. The loud clamor of something being knocked over echoed through the windows until her thoughts diverted back to the house. Whoever was coming down the stairs wasn’t exactly light on their feet either. Aside from the loud tread on the stairs, the person was swearing up a storm.

And a few of the colorful words she’d never even heard of—which was impressive.

With her hand tightly pressing against her mouth she suppressed a drunken giggle. She didn’t even bother to remove her forearm from the side of the house knowing it was the only thing keeping her from face planting into the weathered boards below her feet. Wow, now probably hadn’t been the best time to get lit. Especially when she was meeting some total stranger who probably owned the weird spa and who would be interacting with her on a constant basis for three days.

“Way to go, brain trust,” she muttered.

“Hold on, don’t go anywhere. I’m coming.”

Maybe she’d had a little more wine than she thought—like hallucinogenic amounts—because Chloe could have sworn up and down on her collection of antique fairytale books that the person behind that door sounded awfully male. Despite her mind being a complete jumble she lurched away from the door as it swung open. Which left the screen door wafting in the breeze—until the wind turned harsh and slapped the screen against the stranger’s face.

“Christ on a cracker,” he growled while his large hand immediately covered his face.

“Oh, shit. I mean, damn. I mean—aw, hell.”

Chloe made a dash for the stairs lowering down each one with a two-handed grip on the splintering wooden banister. Nothing mattered more than getting away from the guy. Or any guy. After the breakup she was hardly ready to see anyone of the male species at all. So what if she had to spend the night on the beach for three days? The world spun like the teacups at Coney Island—except the ride had no end in sight.

His hand clutched her bicep and she screamed bloody murder, launching back from the railing, and pin-wheeling backward. Until she thought she would plummet down the wind weathered steps to her death. His other hand landed on her shoulder and snapped her back onto the staircase. Yet she couldn’t find breath to cry out again. They were both steady for a few seconds.

“Are you okay? Can I let you go now?”

He cleared his throat and his warmth licked through her light jacket as if the fabric was kindling. Chloe closed her eyes. When she opened them she intended to remember exactly what he looked like—so if she wound up escaping from the guy’s basement two days from now she had something to tip off the cops. She nodded and groaned with the effort as her head swam. Time to get it together.

With way too much effort, she peeled her eyelids open and looked up—way up—into the man’s face. Suddenly she regretted not eating anything as her stomach knotted with nerves. One bottle of wine should have thrown her for a loop—but skipping a bunch of meals hadn’t helped the situation.

Her vision wavered. Pulse thundering inside her skull until she couldn’t think straight and the outside swam, everything blurred. She lost her footing and managed to get out a yelp, knees going wobbly, and stomach churning with bitter bile. When was the last time she’d passed out from alcohol?

Darkness.

Her mouth was like the inside of a fuzzy, overripe cantaloupe. She tried to focus beyond the loud whirring against her temples. Nope, nothing outside of a head splitting ache and the odd sense that she was sitting in some kind of sauna. There was no way she looked like anything other than last night’s garbage. Not unless the hangover fairy had been to visit. But the likelihood of that visit probably decreased once she’d turned twenty-six—and twenty-six was six long years ago.

Chloe groaned, managing to maneuver her aching legs so the heavy blanket slid partway off her lower body. God, what was that scent? Her mouth watered, but that didn’t mean she could expend the effort to sit up yet. She was too afraid to open her eyes, unwilling to let the world tilt beneath her again.

 Half-tangled in blanket, she slowly pushed herself up onto her elbows wincing when the leather couch squeaked. The flesh of her back peeled away from the surface as if she’d been sleeping on a bed of gum. What a lovely thought. She groaned and rubbed her temples with small, soothing circles.

Didn’t do a damn thing.

Fine, perhaps it was time to face the big bad that was reality. Besides her throat was aching, sandpapery, and squeezed tight. With a deep inhale she eased her eyelids open to face the day. Someone had gone ahead and closed all the curtains over the room’s large floor to ceiling windows. Well—that was nice of them.

Wait.

A prickle of apprehension tickled her lower back making her pulse push harder against her temples. How had she gotten on the couch? The man from last night—the living room sure as shit didn’t look like any spa she’d ever set foot in—and she’d been to a lot, courtesy of a picky mother. No pamphlets lying out on the coffee table, no check-in desk to welcome guests, no banner proclaiming some kind of healthy living promotion. Not even a measly vase of fresh cut flowers.

Either minimalist, beach hippie was the interior decorating fad of the year or the beach house had been falsely advertised. Chloe stifled a giggle that almost hurt with her sensitivity to noise. If her mother had paid money for this experience—she had no doubt the amount was staggering. The very idea of her mother standing in the bare bones living room surveying the place and seeing what her hot to trot money had paid for was a step up from hysterical. She’d be absolutely horrified.

All in all, the room was exactly like any other rental beach house living room she’d ever been in, except for the lack of chipping paint, and the sweet, tart scent of apples. Maybe her mother had given the driver the wrong address? Because this house didn’t have enough rooms that she could see to even begin to cover a spa’s wellness needs. She eased her head between her legs taking deep breaths.

“So the cooking did wake you up? Good, I was wondering how long I’d have to deal with your snoring. Anyone tell you your nasal passages sound like the engine room of the Titanic?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m the guy who saved your ass last night. I’m also your host for the next three days. And I made food. Looks like you won the morning lottery.” He smirked.

He placed two steaming plates down on the coffee table, throwing the towels he used for potholders across the room. At least the man knew world class hangover food. In front of them the plates were piled high with pancakes, fresh berries, whipped cream, and six slices of bacon on each side. Someone liked their protein, though she couldn’t blame him. Bacon was a primary food group.

“Looks good.”

“Well, you paid to be here. Part of the job description is to feed you. I figured breakfast was in order considering you slept through the first one.”

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine this morning.”

She cracked her neck and winced.

“Sorry, you get what you get until Polly comes back.” He shrugged.

“Polly?”

She drew her gaze away from the mouthwatering food. Taking a good, solid look at his face brought back a tangle of memories from last night. But a majority of them took a backseat while she studied the handsome stranger slash possible kidnapper. He was as tall as a damn lumberjack, at least 6’4. Lean and well-built, what her mother’s trainer would call “naturally thin and trim” with confidence in his words that didn’t play out in his awkward, casual body language.

He dug his hands into his wrinkled, faded jeans. A fawn colored cable knit sweater brought out his walnut brown eyes. Thin, wire frame glasses, dark stubble, and a wiry, curly mass of unruly black hair completed the librarian look. From head to toe he was geek chic, down to bare feet that—thankfully—were perfectly manicured. His eyes shot back and forth, gaze never focusing during her scrutiny, while his mouth tilted down in a frown.

“I should go get the orange juice.” He turned on his heel and walked through the door she assumed went into the kitchen.

If she looked at him in the right light, with his glasses off, his high cheekbones and long eyelashes made him look akin to a leading man she’d seen in a Shakespeare movie a while ago. Some Fienne’s brother or something. The name didn’t matter so much, as she had the eye candy.

Chloe shrugged and picked up her fork. What was the harm in chowing down and then calling a cab to drive her to the nearest airport? If she played it safe for the next week she should have enough money in her savings to get her back to NYC safe and sound. No way would her host argue. He didn’t exactly seem thrilled to have company. She heard the slap of male feet on the hardwood as she tucked the first delicious bite into her mouth.

“Here we are.”

He put two garish plastic cups advertising some Atlantic City hotel on the table.

“Who’s Polly?” Chloe re-asserted, covering her mouth full of pancakes with her hand.

“My sister. She runs this place.”

“And this place would be…what?”

“You’re all paid up for three days and you don’t know where you are? Seriously?”

“Looks that way.”

He cocked his head to the side, licked his lips, and seemed to be considering her for a few seconds before he shrugged. He uncurled from the large, overstuffed club chair to stand up and the movement was kind of an Olympian feat. But it wasn’t nearly as entertaining as watching his tight ass while he headed back into the kitchen with one finger raised over his shoulder to signal her to wait a second. One moment. Yeah, with the pancakes half-way devoured, she might not have many more of those left before it was time to skedaddle.        

He strolled back through the swinging kitchen door with a smile on his face a mile wide. Which was kind of nice. Okay, his pearly whites were a little more than nice. Mainly because his eyes lit up behind his glasses, leaving her wobbly knees in the pudding spectrum. But was lusting after some rebound really in her best interest? Not when she was making tracks the minute that last bite of syrupy deliciousness was done. Lord knows she didn’t need another man in her life.

Chloe cleared her throat, decided, while he slapped a pale pink flyer on top of the coffee table next to her plate. His knuckles were sprinkled with tiny, golden hairs. Her gaze tracked back to the flyer as if she’d been caught sneaking a glance at him naked. She silently admonished herself.

“What is this?”

“Read it.”

Without further comment she watched out of the corner of her eye as he deftly folded himself back up into the chair and took his plate into his lap. How he fit in the small space must have been a balancing wonder revered by the circus. She shot him a wavering half-smile and tucked in the last bite of pancake moving onto the bacon when her eyes shot to the flyer.

A slap of adrenaline tingled across her scalp and made her blink a few times. No, no way. There had to be a mistake. Her hands fisted into the sides of her hair and she bit the inside of her cheek as a slice of pain flashed inside her mouth. How could she have been so blind?

The Ex-Retreat

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“Oh.”

She snatched up the flyer turning it from front to back. This couldn’t be right, there had to be some other explanation. Her mother couldn’t have known—and if she did know, who was she to pass judgment? Maybe there was some fine print on how to get a refund? Anything! No way in hell did her mother send her a million miles away to a New Age retreat for her failing love life. Then Chloe’d met a man—a guy on a relationship retreat meant to heal her proverbial wounds. Ugh, this whole thing was a rotten mess. A mess that made her stomach churn knowing exactly what her mother thought of her and her relationship issues.

“My life is turning into a fucking romantic comedy,” she numbly said. “I can’t believe she did this to me.” She stared off into space crossing her arms around her stomach. “Did she plant you here, too? Or was that the only thing that she didn’t fix?”

Noah gave her a look that spanned a few negative emotions. He cleared his throat, hunched his shoulders until his elbows rested on his knees, and he pointed at the small pile of bacon on her plate. “You going to finish that?”

Chloe shook her head. With trembling fingers she downed the glass of orange juice grimacing as the acid tore up her dry throat. She slammed the glass back on the table, enjoying the ricochet up her arm. If the whole trip was fixed, she wasn’t going to give her controlling mother the satisfaction of staying and playing out all her grand plans for her daughter’s life. No, the last time she’d played along with her ex, it’d led her here—to a beach house and a whole heap of heartbreak. There was no use to making her mother happy. It only led to her full submission and she couldn’t do it anymore—she refused to ignore her own wishes, even if she didn’t know what they were yet, they were in her heart somewhere.

And they didn’t align with staying in the house for three days with a sarcastic hottie who would show her exactly why being in a relationship wasn’t the best idea in the world given her current circumstances. She didn’t need a man—let alone a manufactured relationship.

* * *

Noah nibbled on the strange woman’s bacon castoffs unable to decide whether he was excited that she showed up or stressed about the unexpected social interaction with a newcomer. The fact that she didn’t even know that she was coming to a relationship rehab was, he had to admit it, hysterical but it was only more sobering by the fact that she seemed to be dying to leave—and for some unexplainable reason, he wanted her to stay.

She wasn’t part of the plan. Not even in his bubble of safety. But when he’d carted her inside the house after she nearly broke her neck a handful of hours ago he knew without a doubt Chloe would be an epic challenge and maybe a spot of needed fun in an otherwise dull existence. Even now as he covertly watched her through bites, his fingertips tingled from the remembered sensation of her body in his arms. He didn’t want to be creepy, but every male part of him perked up at the memory.

He cleared his throat and wiped off his hands. “It’s not that bad here, you know. You won’t get a whole lot of the amenities promised but I’m pretty sure there’s some decent books on yoga, if you’re into that sort of thing and there’s a mat in your room.”

“I don’t think yoga’s gonna solve my problem.”

He remained silent, unable to offer anything else to help in the way of fixing her problem. Better to shut his mouth or risk condemnation. He knew firsthand most people’s look of pity when he tripped up over his first word and kept stumbling while their eyes narrowed with a judgmental sheen. They were all greedy, verbal hyenas, too quick to laugh at him. For all he knew, she wasn’t different. Noah leaned back in his chair lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug motion that made her blink.

“You can’t fix this?” Her voice teetered on the brink of some heavy emotion. There was breathy strain that made his skin itch as he fought not to wiggle in his seat. “Maybe give me a refund and a ride out of here to the bus station or an airport?”

“Uh, I’m not sure what I can do, really, um, yeah…” Noah trailed off and coughed into his fist. “Let me go back into the office.”

Before she could ask anything else of him, Noah shoved up from the chair hard enough to make his knees crack and he winced, nearly brought down like a felled tree by the sharp pain. He shook it off, unable to meet her gaze. Instead he walked down the main hallway toward the office with her eyes glued to him, practically a laser through his spine. When he shut the door to the office, he threw himself into the creaky, peeling and cracked leather office chair and steepled his fingers. He needed a moment to breathe, to think, to form a plan that he could translate into sentences and repeat as many times as needed before he’d hopefully get them right.

But no matter what he said, it wouldn’t be the right thing. There was no way to fix an error like this, at least not without bothering his sister, Judy, while she was on her vacation. Sure, she was his best friend, but that didn’t mean he could rip away her hard earned tranquility. One phone call would set her off like a geyser of rage. He scrubbed his palms over his face, pushing the chair back and forth with one foot on the floor as it tilted and his jaw clicked together. There had to be a better way to avoid the whole mess. He had to keep her here.

“Man up, use your big boy voice, and be a persuasive son of a bitch.” The verbal pep talk only made his mouth dry, throat constricted as he tried to swallow and failed. “Flip the switch.”