How's the weather where you are? Here on the Jersey Shore, it's hot. If it's not hot, it's raining, or muggy, or raining and muggy. Only a few people in the world can say it snowed last night, and if you're one of them, quit your whining--the rest of us are hot.
There, I've gotten the rude portion of my blog note out of the way. Now, I'm all ready to babble about what's going on in my life this week.
If you've read my newsletter, you know I'm working on a duet --or double-story book with Ashley Marie Lucas. It's been a lot of fun. She's published a short story once, and co-wrote another book--Moonlight Tales (http://www.amazon.com/Moonlight-Tales-ebook/dp/B005J86X6I/) with author, Venus Cahill.
Still, she'd be the first to tell you that she's new and learning. I'm not all that old, writing-wise, or truthfully, any-wise. Old enough, I guess. Anyhow, over the course of the last few weeks, we've been working together and I've had an opportunity to share some of my dubious expertise. *g*
It's been a ton of fun, and I'm thrilled to say that I'm learning more than she is--certainly as much.
She's reminded me of things, made me think of other things. I've reconsidered how I research and what I know about my characters before and during the telling of their story. As I said, it's been a blast. I'm so excited about her story. Mine, too, of course--I'm very excited about mine.
We both reread a short story each of us had written many moons ago, and then let our stories inspire new ones. We're not just fleshing out the originals, though you'll be able to read them, since we're including them in the book.
Of course, the excitement of writing, and ultimately publishing, a book you're proud of has all sorts of unforeseen effects on a person. Back when I first started writing, I had a book out that became newly available in print. Since writing was what I did with my life at time, my in-laws would ask about it. I should have acknowledged the trickle of doubt…but I didn’t. I told them that one of my books had come out in print. Needless to say, when asked, I produced one. Long story made short, the woman never treated me the same again.
Unfortunately, something similar happened to Ashley Marie, recently. She went to church this past Sunday, as usual, and came home hurt and a bit upset. Her husband, being a loving husband, and decent man justifiably proud of his wife, started bragging about her right away. Why shouldn't he?
Again, long story short, Ashley Marie has felt the sharp side of a shrew's tongue, and Mr. Lucas has learned that his mother and her biddy-buddies don't need to know exactly what sort of story his wife is writing at any given time. From now on, Mr. and Mrs. Lucas will just tell people that she writes romance, or sensual romance, or just lovely stories…depending. If you're wondering, she'll go back to that church next Sunday, head held high. She's just that kind of person.
Here's the book of mine that just came out--One winner will get a download of this book:
The International World's Museum Collection:
In a time before "modern man" evolved into homo sapiens, Homo neanderthalensis or Neanderthal man walked the earth. They easily saw through the mystical glamour that hid paths to other worlds and the unearthly visitors who traveled those paths. Inherent skills and abilities allowed them to protect themselves and combat unwelcome guests from other worlds.
Over the centuries, the population of Homo sapiens grew and dominated the earth, outnumbering their Neanderthal cousins. With no knowledge of the dangers presented by the open doors between worlds, they seemed easy prey to the outworlders. That was not the case, however.
Porta, California was just one of the several gateways between worlds and featured just one of the museums that guarded an egress and housed otherworldly artifacts. The International Worlds Museum could be a fun place to visit. Sometimes, though, the exhibits might offer an unexpected surprise or two.
Rand Cooper had no idea how his life had become so complicated. Suddenly, Elwynn Ravensdale, who had been the consummate pain in Rand's arse, became extremely attractive--especially his arse. If that wasn't enough, his teenaged charges were acting cagey and secretive. Worse than all of that, Wynn had an attachment to some woman, a very pretty woman, but a woman nonetheless. And there was a baby involved.
Where were the days when hostile otherworldly visitors were all that he had to worry about?
“Don’t say anything,” Livia slid up on the bed beside his hip taking his hand. “Let Rand do his hocus pocus and then we’ll try to get you out of here. We can iron out the details later. How’s that?”
Don’t mind if I do…
Rand leaned over Wynn, thrilled at the acquiescence in his eyes. Without another word, he laced his fingers with Wynn’s, carefully avoiding the IV lines. Leaning down, he touched foreheads, cupping the back of Wynn’s head with his free hand.
Dimly aware of Livia sitting on the opposite side of the bed and holding Wynn's other hand, Rand tilted his chin forward covering the other man’s mouth with his own. A nip at his lower lip and Wynn opened, giving Rand full access to taste and explore. A hazy current seemed to blanket the three, drawing heat, urgency, electricity to the surface.
At first, Livia acted nervous, unsure. As the crackling energy wound around them, Rand began to feel the three-way connection build. Livia’s small hand found its way to Rand’s shoulder, rubbing him gently as she held onto Wynn.
His focus narrowed to one pinpoint. Wynn was kissing him back hungrily, need in every panting breath. Rand’s hand slid down the thin hospital gown covering Wynn’s chest, meeting Livia as together they pushed the sheet to his knees. Though her movements were slightly unsure, the young woman was committed, actively a part of their shaky triad.
Pulling the flimsy gown up out of the way, Rand stroked along one toned thigh and over Wynn’s flat abdomen. At twenty-eight, Wynn was firm and muscled, a banquet for the eyes.
Since living in Los Angeles, Wynn had gained a light tan. Coupled with jet black hair and eyes the color of a vibrant lapis, Wynn was a beautiful man. Rand had always thought that, even during the time when Wynn’s hair was short, slicked back, his dress code was prim, and they had argued the better part of every day.
Still holding Wynn’s left hand, Rand slid his free hand around and pulled the tie on the annoying gown, tugging the thing away without looking up. He kissed and nibbled his way down Wynn’s neck to his clavicle, nipping and biting as he went. Wynn tugged their hands up and his long fingers found the button at Rand’s waist and yanked, taking some of the pressure off of his own rigid erection.
A choked gasp against his mouth told him that Livia had found Wynn’s hardened cock. She reached out and grabbed Rand’s left hand, pulling it down until both their hands wrapped around the throbbing flesh. Heat and energy surged around and through them as Wynn arched under their grip.
As the magic flowed, Livia's stimulation became obvious as she joined in, mouthing her way up Wynn’s body, stopping at a tight, flat nipple. She sucked and nipped, her gaze colliding with Rand and then flicking away, down to the hot cock they held. Rand groaned at the picture it presented. Her dainty hand resting just below his, the tip of Wynn's dusky cock had swelled well beyond the foreskin and dripped clear fluid down over Rand's fingers. Rand adjusted his grip so that his hand was wrapped around Livia's, at the base of Wynn's sex.
Leaning in, he traced his tongue up the large vein underneath. Wynn moaned and shifted, bucking slightly into the wet heat.
Still holding Livia’s hand underneath his, Rand sucked Wynn’s throbbing length into his mouth and swallowed around it. Twisting and arching, Wynn lost control, filling Rand’s mouth with his salty release.
One look combined with Wynn’s even breathing told him that the younger man had passed out.
“Whoa,” Livia groaned, sliding her hand out from under Rand’s to cup Wynn’s cheek briefly.
“Quite,” Rand agreed, carefully releasing Wynn’s hand and sliding off the bed.
“That was something else,” she murmured backing off of the bed as well and toward the wall, one hand outstretched almost in entreaty.
Speaking of something else…
Rand moved toward her lifting a brow in question and resting his palm against his aching hard on. While he liked men more than women, he was bisexual. Livia would have been appealing without the magic, even without the erotic goings on that had just taken place. But they had taken place.
Livia bit her lip, looked over at Wynn and then back at Rand. “We’re in this together, right? All of us? From now on?”
Rand nodded, for the first time really looking at her as a potential partner rather than a rival for Wynn's affections—her gauzy skirt, the light top, shapely body, long, strong legs--she was sexy, very sexy. His eyes traveled up her body to lock on hers, dark and hungry.
“I've never felt like this before,” she confessed, her voice a choked whisper. “I wanted to climb up on top of him.” He stopped in front of her and she rested a palm on his chest.
“Shh,” he murmured snaking an arm around her waist. “It’s the magic, it enhances—magnifies everything. It’s sex magic. Remember? I told you…”
“Please,” Livia hissed. “Just—please.”
Oh yeah. PLEASE!
Rand slid a hand up her leg, pushing the filmy skirt out of the way until he came to the thin width of her cotton panties.
“Are you sure?” His voice was husky; they were both shaking with need.
Please be sure. Please be very sure.
This book came out in March--One winner gets a download of this book, or any of the other three from this series:
The Montgomery Family Chronicles - Book Four
by J.J. Massa
How many Weres could manage to find their mate and lose her all at the same time? Yancey Montgomery's mate has been right under his nose for at least a decade. When he makes her his, he also chases her off. What will it take to convince the delicate little werewolf that he is a worthy mate?
Never had Sue been so glad to be back in America, and now she was moving into Old Moon, the town where her best friend lived. What could be better than that--there was no drama at Tracey's place…or so she thought.
…And now, now, he stood amidst a crowd, badly made sign held aloft, watching for a woman he was beginning to wish he’d never heard of, all the worse because she had no idea that he, or werewolves in general, existed. That was more than a little odd, given that she’d been friends with the Darke family for a decade. On top of it all, he was supposed to live with her? Okay, it had been couched as a request, but really—how was he going to turn his Alpha down? Aside from everything else, the pack owned the house in question.
Oh well, if there was one thing Peyton knew how to do, it was follow orders. If the order was dangerous or stupid, he would…misinterpret it a little. Sharing an expensive and roomy old house with a beautiful woman who was allegedly a great cook—what could be dangerous about that?
The sound of a throat clearing pulled Peyton from his distracted speculation. Taken by surprise, he jerked and spun, hands still in the air, cardboard sign flapping loudly like a drunken paper flag.
Peyton could do little more than gape as the woman’s breathtaking scent washed over him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, just stood there, arms held high, the thin poster sign held at arm’s length above his head.
“I’ll take that,” the goddess informed him, hand out expectantly. Confused, all he could do was shake his head in the negative and stare. He had no idea where his cognitive abilities had gone. “What? It has my name on it, therefore, it’s mine,” she insisted, brow arched. “Hand it over.” What could he say? It did have her name on it, after all.
At a loss, Peyton did as ordered, watching in bemusement as she folded it until it was long and thin, then pressed it in half and marched it to a nearby trashcan, stuffing the abused cardboard inside. Returning to his side, she dusted her hands off in a deliberate manner.
“Now then, how can I help you? Are you the friend Tracey and Tav mentioned in their phone call?” She spoke with a mild Italian accent which just added another intriguing facet to a very alluring puzzle.
Peyton had every intention of agreeing and suggesting they head toward baggage claim, post haste. Instead, he blurted, “You’re my mate!”
Sue cleared her throat again and shook her head sharply, seemingly disappointed.
“Why don’t you try introducing yourself first, hmm hotshot? That’s how this is supposed to go. I don’t know what Tracey’s told you about me, but I don’t “mate” with strangers.”
She paused, “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”
Peyton groaned aloud. How could he have been so gauche? That was probably the most out-of-character thing he’d done in over a decade, maybe his entire life, though he had gotten in some awkward scrapes entertaining his favorite cousin. It was just that this woman’s scent had been so moving, so overpowering. No doubt, his Alpha was going to skin him alive, Peyton bemoaned internally. After all that he’d gone through for the honor of becoming Beta to this pack, to throw it all away, along with the claiming of his newfound mate, just because of a few ill thought out words.
Not thought out words, to be precise.
And now she was going to live with him? Or he with her…either way, this was going to be tough.
“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Capitello,” he choked out. “Please forget I said that. Can we start over? My name is Peyton Livingston.” He extended one hand and waited. He could have sloughed the entire thing off as a joke—a slick flirtation…except that she was his mate and he frankly didn’t do flirtations. No, he couldn’t scare her off or take a chance that he’d offend her. For the first time in his life, Peyton hoped for something more, something beyond duty to his pack, and possible acceptance.
* * * *
After due consideration, Sue extended a hand to the young man. It had to be one of Tracey’s practical jokes…or maybe Tav’s. He didn’t seem to have a very active sense of humor, but you never knew when that man would get together with those brothers of his and decide to make mischief. Well, she could be just as naughty as the next forty-ish single woman.
Sue stepped back and gave Peyton a slow, deliberate look over. Starting with his long, lean legs, her gaze lingered at his trim hips encased in business-casual slacks, then traveled up over a tight, sculpted abdomen, taut torso, thick, well muscled shoulders, tanned throat and up. She was nearly breathless by that time and swallowed discreetly. Moving on, her eyes feasted on his strong, angular chin, imagining the brush of his stubbled cheek against her skin. The appearance of a dimple drew her to his sensuous lower lip and looked up, before she became lost in sinful thoughts.
He had an amused, questioning look in his deep, amber eyes, bracketed by welcoming laugh lines, but she only lingered there a moment. His thick, sleek eyebrows waggled, but she ignored it, letting her gaze sweep his wide forehead, resting on wavy hair that seemed an even mix of rich chocolate brown and cinnamon. If she had to compare him to anyone, Tom Selleck came to mind. She wondered if he had that lovely carpet of chest hair sported by the actor he favored.
Well, that was neither here nor there. What was important was that he thought he had the upper hand and of course, he did not. So, not only did she have a sexy toy to play with, it was time to tease him a little. Today was indeed her lucky day.
And here is the cover--with blurbs--for the book coming out soon:
Out of the Shadows
All he wanted was a loving Dominant who would treat him well and care for him in return. Sadly, for Joshua Perry, life didn't work like that. What he had was a controlling and abusive boyfriend-turned-stalker. Other guys could break off a bad relationship, why couldn't he?
To make matters worse, his long-time boss retired and was replaced by Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Too-Sexy-To-Be-Allowed, otherwise known as Caleb Reese.
Everything about the man screams Dom. Could he be the man of Josh's dreams? Does he even want to be?
Ashton Bellamy considered himself easy going…at one time. Now, after being disowned by his father and knocked around by his well-heeled boyfriend, things have changed. He had a submissive personality-- that was no mystery. These days, Ashton worked hard, kept his head down, and did his best to make ends meet. Sam, his boss at the bar, was obviously dominant, Ashton didn't mind working under him--so what if he wanted to do other things under him after closing time?
What he did afterhours was his own business, nobody else's.
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