Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Kharisma Rhayne: Bound by Seduction

Welcome to my guest Kharisma Rhayne- I think she just might have something here...

I need a “sexcation.”

That’s right. It’s not a typo. It’s like a vacation, but way better. You know? With sex. Lots of it. It’s the vacation where you get the sex you want, not the sex (or lack of) that you’re stuck with.

This all started on Facebook (just goes to show you—you never know what I might toss up on my facebook account). Imagine that. I was amazed at how many actually felt like I did and the reasoning behind it. I mean, is it just to have that vacation with perfect sex? Is it a need to reach sheer exhaustion so that you can rest? Is it because you aren’t getting any at all and some is better than none? Is it because you are unhappy with the sex you’re getting? Is it maybe a combination of several factors?

As much as I’ve read erotic romance, I find that I’d love to pull the heroine out of the book, kick her ass and jump into the story and take her place. A strong man, generally bent on protecting family and his woman (who is more than likely fighting him every step of the way), who’s always got a huge cock and is great in bed. Damn! Where do I sign up?

Think he’ll take me if I promise no drama, like he’s getting from the woman he’s trying to make his? I’m very independent and stubborn. But for something like that? My own “knight in shining armour” (so to speak) – damn right I’d play the obedient female. Hell, I might even enjoy it.

Oh right, back on point. You’d get all that and more on my sexcation, of course. You see, each vacation would have to be a custom fit. Take your favorite steamy erotic romance man (or hell, it’s your vacation, combine a few attributes from certain ones and get your perfect mega-man) and make it your dream vacation. Do you dream of the Highlander who will fuck you until you beg him to stop? Perhaps it’s the man who enjoys a good meal right between your legs? The one that gets you off with his tongue, then his tongue and fingers and then finally, when you can’t wait any longer, with his cock. Maybe you prefer the English gentleman who respects you, wouldn’t dream of saying the word fuck around you, and treats you with extra care. Or maybe it’s the hot Native American that can ride bare back and take you by a stream.

Your vacation. You choose. And the news breaker in this? And you get to hear it first, right here on this blog. It’s not even up on any of mine. Sexcation is going to be a new short series. Where men and women get to make their own rules and have the perfect vacation that fills their own unique fantasy. Want your fantasy to appear in one with mention of your name in the dedication? Email me your fantasy ( KharismaRhayne (at) gmail (dot) com )

Now, next – thanks so much to Laura for letting me hijack the blog for a little bit today. :D

I’d love it if you all came to hang out with me too. I can be found at: My BlogKharisma Rhayne BooksTwitter and on Facebook HERE & HERE

Finally, if you have a few more minutes, take a peek below for some details on my latest release from Rebel Ink. It’s Bound by Seduction Book: Jarvick & Arabelle. 


Arabelle finds herself at the gym on a Friday night and ends up working on more than her cardio with oh so hot stranger, Jarvick when he guides her to his truck for some cuffed experimentation. Just how well will these two fit together?


He was the most impressive man I had ever seen. Huge and obviously strong, he was simply magnificent. I continued to watch him bench press what had to be hundreds and hundreds of pounds over and over again.

This is what I get for going to the gym on a day I'm not usually here. There goes my train of thought for at least a week.

I caught myself gawking and checked the treadmill I occupied for any drool that might’ve escaped my mouth. I really should stop staring. But it was too late. I'd been caught.

His buddies were looking over at me. I mean, looking at me. Really. Shouldn't they be spotting him so the barbell didn't fall on him and crush his neck or chest or whatever body part it landed on?

Body parts.

I bet he had more than a couple really impressive ones. How tall was he anyway? He had to be at least two hundred and fifty pounds of thick, solid muscle. What would it feel like to be under all that sweating mass?

I tripped on the treadmill. My fall, like those videos on America’s Funniest Home Videos, flashed through my mind a second before someone grabbed me around the waist, picking me up and setting me on the floor next to the treadmill.

"Arabelle, perhaps you should pay more attention when you're on the equipment," Keith said, giving me a knowing look.

Darn it. Of course it would be Keith. Not only was he a personal trainer at the gym but he was also my best friend’s fiancé.

"Sorry, Keith. I was just thinking. It's been a long week and I have a lot on my mind."

"Of course you do. Like, for instance, Jarvick over there."

"Excuse me?"

"Jarvick. The big dude you were staring at. Go say hello or something before you kill yourself."

Keith reached over and turned off the treadmill I’d left run while we talked.

I rolled my eyes at Keith, grabbed my water bottle and towel, and walked off. I might as well give up on the gym today. Not like I'd get much done, other than stare at Jarvick and possibly, as Keith mentioned, kill myself on one piece of gym equipment or another.

I took a quick shower and dressed--yoga pants, gym shoes and a T-shirt being high fashion for me this evening. Thankfully, it was Friday.


Arabelle walked to her car digging around in her gym bag for her keys and came up empty. She must’ve managed to leave her keys in the ladies’ locker room. She wondered how not adult it would be for her to stamp her feet and scream right then. With a heavy, and loud, sigh she turned on her heel and stalked back into the gym.

Where she promptly slammed into a wall of muscle. The man Keith called Jarvick. Damn. He was larger than she thought. And hotter, if that were even possible. She looked down at his hands resting on her shoulders and raised an eyebrow.

"You were going to fall. I caught you." Jarvick reeked of raw confidence, arrogance, and strength. And he had the best smile ever. Beautiful dark eyes, perfect teeth, long, dark hair…

She shook her head, giving herself a mental head slap. Say something intelligent ran through her mind like a mantra.

"Th-thank you." What? She never stuttered.

They stood in silence, staring at one another. She swallowed. Damn, why couldn’t she walk away? Why couldn’t she break Jarvick’s unrelenting gaze?

"Are you going to stare at me all day, doll?" Jarvick’s cocky grin spread across his face. And God, she loved it. "Or are you going to let me know how I can please you?"

"What?" Arabelle croaked. "Please me?" Her voice sounded so odd.

With a laugh, Jarvick continued. "You’re going to play dumb, I see." He shrugged. "I prefer women who are well able to tell me exactly what they want from me." He lightly traced a finger down the side of her face. "However, since you won’t speak your mind, I’ll be kind this time and tell you what you want."

Stunned, Arabelle didn’t know what to say. What the heck was he talking about? She should just walk away, but, for one reason or another, her feet simply wouldn’t move.


Sunday, January 1, 2012

New Year - Old Year and Everything in Between

Yesterday, when LRC announced the nominees for the 2011 Awards, I thought I was prepared, because the moderator had sent a note earlier in the week, informing me that Ty Hard was included. I'd had several days to put on my game face, plus I was traveling, so I wasn't able to see the announcements live, as they were posted. 

Then I saw the lists:

2011 Best GBLT Book Nominees

Damon Suede - Hot Head
Laura Harner - Ty Hard
SJD Peterson- Quinn's Need
Margie Church - Hard as Teak
Amber Kell-Trials of Tam
TJ Klune-Bear, Otter & The Kid
Patricia Logan-Captive Lover
Brannan Black-Wolfman 4: Salvation
Laura Tolomei-Re-Scue
RJ Scott-Texas Winter
DC Juris-Orion's Way
LA Witt-Ex Equals
Cat Grant- Once a Marine

Best Cover of 2011 Nominees

Damon Suede-Hot Head
Laura Harner-Ty Hard
Andrew Grey: Work Me Out
Cherise Sinclair: Club Shadowlands 6: To Command and Collar
SJD Peterson-Quinn's Need
Silvia Violet-Paws on Me (Serve & Protect)
Serena Yates-Convincing Landon
Carol Lynne-Sunset Ridge
Desiree Holt-Bite the bullet
Johnny Miles-Learning to Samba
GA Hauser-Down and Dirty
Sandy Sullivan-Two for the price of one
Cari Quinn-Unwrapped
Lee Brazil-Loving Jacob
Sherrilyn Kenyon-No Mercy
JD Robb-New York to Dallas
Lacey Alexander-Hot for Santa
Ally Blue-Convergence
Damon Suede-Grown Men

This qualifies right up there with the other holy shit moments of my life!

I certainly wasn't very articulate about my name on the list with some of my own favorite authors - mostly because seeing my name there leaves feeling an intense need to apologize. (You know...like when you walk into the wrong bathroom. Awkward.) So please, let me take a moment to rectify my deplorable manners.

Thank you Dawn Roberto, Love Romances Cafe, and all the LRC loop members. The nominations for GLBT Book of the Year and Cover of the Year are the perfect final cap on a banner year. These are two more milestones on the road to becoming an author. I am honored and humbled to be considered and included with this list of authors and artists. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

2011 was a truly amazing year for me. I started the year with two published books through Cobblestone Press, and a New Year's resolution or goal of finding an agent or publisher for Highland Shift before the end of the year.

I ended up on a  very different path. I formed my own publishing company, fought to get paid for the books I sold through my former publisher, and formed lasting friendships and partnerships with some amazing writers and one very special artist and writer.

My world is a better place because of knowing so very many of you, but especially Dan Skinner, Lisa Worrall, Mercy Celeste, and Liz Crowe. I look forward to growing our relationships in 2012.

So here's the 2011 published list:

Forbidden Love
Highland Shift
Honey House
Ty Hard

The 2012 list includes a mix of LE Harner and Laura Harner books, including MMF, MM, and MF, plus a new MM vampire series and a MM Gothic novel. There are plenty of your old favorites:

  • Highland Pull, Book 2 in the Highland Destiny Series (March, 2012)
  • Highland Push, Book 3 in the Highland Destiny Series(October, 2012)
  • Redemption, Book 4 in the Three's Allowed Series (February, 2012)
  • Book 5 in the Three's Allowed Series (September, 2012)
  • Hold Tight, Book 2 in the Willow Springs Ranch Series
  • Taking Chance, Book 3 in the Willow Springs Ranch Series
  • Shades of Blue, Book Two in the KC Carmichael Series (May, 2012)

And a couple completely new series that I will blog about this week:
  • Continental Divide, a MM international detective series with the fabulous Lisa Worrall (February, 2012)
  • Deep Blues Goodbye, a MM series about a reluctant vampire (January, 2012)
And one more- an epic project, that promises to be like nothing you've ever seen before.

There will be a few more surprises along the way, too. 

I look forward to spending 2012 with you, and I thank each and everyone of you for reading, for chatting, and most of all, for being my friend. 


PS- this year's goal is to make writing my full time job. I'll let you know as soon as that happens!

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Unshakeable Faith by Lisa Worrall
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I loved this book! Brody and Nash grow on each other, and the reader like a smoldering fire fanned to flames. And not just once.... This books takes the reader on an emotional roller coaster that is as hot and steamy as a summer afternoon in Texas. The characters are richly drawn, with every emotion ringing true, Unshakeable Faith tells the story of finding true love and the lengths one man will go to in order to bring that love back home - even when everything and everyone tells him it is a lost cause. A lovely story - bring tissues...

View all my reviews


Of all the bars in all the towns in all the world, the stranger walks into Brody Tyler’s. With no memory and a name he chose from a newspaper, Nash is a gamble—one Brody is willing to take. It isn’t long before Brody and Nash fall in love, but then a tragic accident shatters their cozy world, resetting Nash’s memory once again.

The “new” Nash Walker is a businessman with a bottom line, and he doesn’t care what or who gets stomped on. Waking up in a hospital bed after a hit-and-run with no idea where he’s been for the past six months is bad enough, but someone trying to kill him is even worse. Enter Brody Tyler, accidental bodyguard.

Brody’s determined to help Nash remember and bring back the man he loves. Nash thinks Brody’s a drop-dead gorgeous pain in the ass. If only he could remember….

BRODY turned the glass over in his hand and held it up to the light, checking for smudges before rubbing them away with the clean bar towel. He smiled as he glanced around the empty bar—hisbar. Brody had practically grown up on the stool behind the bar. Tyler’s had been his grandfather’s place and his great-grandfather’s before that, and where he’d spent most of his summers. When he was a little boy, his pappy had let him put the peanuts into the little dishes for the tables. Then, as the years passed, he was given a cloth and allowed to clean the tables, then the bar and, finally, he graduated to a summer job mixing cocktails and opening beer bottles. “Money ain’t worth nothing if you ain’t worked for it, Brody. You remember that,” Pappy said time and time again in his harsh, Texan bark. “Just because you come from money, son, doesn’t mean you don’t have to earn your own.” 

Brody knew he was fortunate to have grown up in one of the wealthiest families in San Antonio, but Pappy’s words had struck a chord with him, and he’d never coasted through life on his parents’ shirttails. He’d decided against taking the easy route and stepping into a tailor-made role at the successful Tyler home-improvement chain, instead working his way through college and grad school to pursue his love of architecture.

He’d only been out of grad school for three weeks, the ink on his degree barely dry, when his grandfather had been diagnosed with cancer. Spending hours by Pappy’s bedside, they’d shared memories, Brody had read To Kill a Mockingbird to him, and more often than not, they just sat in silence, each garnering the comfort they needed from the other’s presence. During one of those long days, Pappy had told Brody he was leaving the bar to him, but that he wanted him to sell the place and use the money to set up his own firm. 

Ten days later he held Pappy’s hand as he took his final breath, and after they’d buried him beside Grams, Brody had left the wake at his parents’ house. He’d had no idea where he was going—maybe his subconscious had been guiding him, maybe it was Pappy himself, he didn’t know—but he found himself standing outside Tyler’s, the key in his numb fingers. 

Inside, gazing around the empty room, inhaling the familiar smells and assaulted by a myriad of memories, Brody knew he could never part with it. He’d taken off his black suit jacket, picked up a bar towel and a glass… and he was still doing the same thing six years later. Not many twenty-seven-year-olds had their own successful business, and he knew how lucky he was. He’d already had a large clientele of regulars, and after some modernization, word of mouth had made it one of the most popular bars in town. It might not have been the life he’d envisaged, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

Stacking glasses on the shelf behind him, he glanced up at the mirror when he heard the bell indicating the arrival of a customer. Unable to contain the breath that escaped his lips or the sudden speeding up of his heartbeat, his gaze tracked the man’s path to the bar. 

The stranger looked to be about the same age as him, and probably around six feet tall. But it wasn’t his height and age that had Brody’s cock twitching in his pants. The guy was basically the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, man or woman. Putting the last glass on the shelf, Brody picked up the towel and began to rub down the sleek wood of the bar top. He failed dismally in his effort not to stare as the man settled himself on a stool, and cursed inwardly at the press of his wayward dick against the denim of his jeans when the man ran a shaking hand through short, light-brown hair, causing his tight T-shirt to cling to the muscles of his lean chest.

For God’s sake, snap out of it, Brody! He threw the towel over his shoulder and pushed his chocolate-colored bangs out of his eyes. Could you be any more obvious? Stop drooling over the poor guy and go serve him. Brody squared his shoulders, grabbed a beer mat, and walked toward the end of the bar, hoping desperately that the butterflies flapping up a storm in his stomach weren’t about to fly out of his mouth. 

“Hey,” he said brightly, slapping the beer mat down on the bar in front of Tall and Gorgeous. “What can I get you?”

Brody’s stomach hit his shoes when the stranger lifted his gaze and he looked into the prettiest green eyes. No, not green, too ordinary. They were the deep sea-green of a stormy ocean, splattered with gold flecks and rimmed with long dark lashes, and he would have been more than happy to spend the rest of his life gazing into them. Yeah, thank you, Oprah—just get him a drink!

Green-eyes scanned the array of alcohol on the shelves behind Brody and shrugged. “I’m not sure.” 

Brody’s brow furrowed at the weight of those words, as if it had taken an incredible effort to voice them. When the man glanced at the rows of beer and then back at him, Brody was sure his heart actually skipped a beat at the innate sadness in his eyes. “Hey.” He reached out without thinking and placed his hand over Green-eyes’ hand where it lay on the bar. “Are you okay?” His breath caught in his throat at the well of tears in the gaze that flitted to his and then away.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled.

Brody glanced at the clock on the wall and made an executive decision. You’re the boss, dumbass, every decision you make is executive. Ignoring his inner voice, he tossed the bar towel into the basket beneath the bar, grabbed two bottles of beer from the shelf, put one down in front of the stranger, and smiled reassuringly. 

“Here you go,” he said softly. “You look like you need someone to talk to. And who better than your friendly bartender? I’m a good listener, honest. You have to be or they won’t let you into bartending school.” He felt something warm unfurl in his gut when the man’s lips twitched. “Listen, I’ve got a couple of hours before this place starts filling up, so what do you say I turn over the closed sign and we chew the fat for a while?” He held up his right hand as if to swear an oath. “I promise I’m not an axe murderer, and they assure me the insanity has skipped a generation.”

Brody waited as Green-eyes seemed to weigh up the suggestion for a few moments and then nodded. Brody’s smile grew wider and he strode across the room to turn the sign on the door, flick up the lock, and pull down the blind. He noted the way Green-eyes nervously studied the label on the bottle of beer, and frowned in concern when the man started as Brody sat on the stool next to him. 

Picking up the second beer, he took a long draw before turning on the stool to face the other man. “Hi, I’m Brody, Brody Tyler, the owner.” He held out his hand and his gaze snapped up when long fingers folded around his and he felt a sharp shock of static pass between them. Judging by the man’s intake of breath, he’d felt it too. Clearing his throat, Brody tried not to drop the hand he held as though it were a hot potato and raised an eyebrow in question. “And you are?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said I don’t remember,” Green-eyes replied in a tired voice. “I have no idea who I am.”

HALF an hour later Brody sat opposite him in one of the booths against the wall, both of them drinking their second beer. Brody had listened, his gaze widening more and more, while the other man gave him the condensed version of his last three months. Told him how he’d been found in an alley with a knife in his side and a fractured skull. His face so badly beaten that it had taken a couple of months for the swelling to go down and the bruising to fade, and for him to even resemble a human being. 

Brody sipped on his beer as the soft Texas drawl explained how he’d woken up in the hospital after surgery, scared and alone, with no idea who he was. There’d been no wallet or driver’s license in the suit jacket he’d been wearing, so the police assumed he was a victim of a brutal mugging—the wrong place at the wrong time. They were unable to find anyone fitting his description on their database, and had put his picture on the local news station, but no one came forward to claim him. 

“I woke up in that hospital and I’d never been so terrified in my entire life,” he said on a smile. “Or at least I don’t think I had—how would I know? Maybe I wake up in the hospital all the time.” His lips lifted in a wry smile. “Sorry, thinking about this can kind of make you go a little crazy.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how terrible this must have been for you,” Brody said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You don’t remember a single thing? You’ve not had any flashes, you know….” He shrugged, aware he was babbling but unable to stop himself. “Feelings of déjà vu?”

“Well there are two things I know for certain,” he replied. “I don’t like Jell-O, in any flavor, but I dolike beer.” He smiled and took another sip from his bottle.

Brody laughed boisterously and chinked their bottles together before downing the remainder in his own. “What about a name?” Brody voiced one of the many thoughts racing around his brain. “Surely they had to call you something for the last three months?” 

Green-eyes shrugged. “They called me Paul—one of the nurses who took care of me, Anna, came up with it—but I don’t like it. It doesn’t feel right, you know what I mean?”

“How come they let you out if you still can’t remember who you are? Did they say if you’d ever remember anything?” There was something about the man in front of him that made Brody want to wrap him up and keep him safe. He couldn’t explain it. Never had he felt such an instant connection with a guy. Sighing, he mentally shook his head. Jesus, Brody, you don’t even know if he’s gay. Hell, he probably doesn’t even know if he’s gay. He watched from beneath lowered lashes as the other man drank the rest of his beer before answering, and heat uncurled in his lower belly as those beautiful, full lips closed around the lip of the bottle. 

Shit. I am so screwed

Noting the suddenly nervous way his gaze flitted from Brody’s face to where his fingers were picking at the label on the now-empty bottle, Brody reached out and placed a hand over the scratching fingers, stilling their movement. “What? What happened?”

“They had no reason to keep me. I mean, I’m healed, just not up here.” He tapped his forehead and his lip curled up derisively. “They have no idea if I’ll ever get my memory back. They said I might wake up one morning and remember everything, or it could be gone forever. But two days ago—” he paused and looked around as if he were making sure they were still alone, “—I was in the john down the hall from my room, when I heard the doctor and two nurses talking about me. They said they couldn’t give me the prolonged care I needed and they should refer me to a ‘specialist’ rehabilitation center,” he said, using finger quotes.

“A specialist rehabilitation center?” Brody asked, suddenly realizing that he still held the man’s fingers in his own. He withdrew his hand as casually as he could and leaned back against the cushion.

“That set off alarm bells in my head. They were going to send me to some nut house and I… I couldn’t let them.” His tear-filled gaze locked with Brody’s. “I’m not crazy. I just forgot a few things, like my name, where I’m from, and anything to do with, oh, I don’t know, forever. But I’m not crazy, so….” He dropped his gaze again.

“So?” Brody prompted.

“I stole the guy in the next room’s clothes and some money out of his wallet,” Green-eyes said on a rush of breath. “I wrote down his name and address, and I’m going to pay him back, honest. Then I snuck out. That was the day before yesterday.”

“Jesus.” Brody drew out the word, feeling that the moment warranted it. “Wait.” He frowned as his brain caught up. “The day before yesterday? Where did you sleep last night?”

Green-eyes blushed and muttered, “In an alley. I didn’t have a choice.” He groaned at the incredulous look on Brody’s face. “I didn’t have enough money for a motel. I washed up in the bus station bathroom this morning. What’s so funny?” 

“I was just thinking. You’re not a very good thief. Couldn’t you have stolen a wallet with a credit card in it?” Brody chuckled softly as Green-eyes’s lips twitched in response to the tease.

“He only had fifteen dollars, so I left him five. I think it’s safe to say that whoever I was, it wasn’t a criminal mastermind.” Green-eyes smiled and put his hands flat on the table as if to push himself to standing. “Well, thanks for the beer, Brody, and the shoulder. But I think I’ve taken up enough of your time. I guess I should be going.”

“Where?” Brody asked, his eyebrows rising so high they disappeared beneath his bangs. “To another alley? Or a shelter where they’ll take what’s left of your ten dollars?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” 

Brody checked the clock; he was going to have to unlock the door soon. Willow and Kristie, his cocktail waitresses, would be arriving any minute. Thoughts bounced around his head like a pinball as he stared at the man opposite him. He had no idea what the hell he was doing, but one thing kept flashing in his head like a neon sign: Don’t let him leave! The thought of this lonely, scared man going out alone into a world he no longer knew had anxiety sending a shot of acid up Brody’s gullet. He wanted to help him—no, needed to help him. In his mind’s eye, Brody suddenly saw him huddled against a wall, desperately trying to fight off degenerates who were trying to steal his clothes, or worse—his virtue. His virtue, Tyler? He didn’t have time to reply to his subconscious as he reached out and grabbed the other man’s arm, pulling to make him sit back down.

“Wait! This is totally crazy, but….” Brody took a deep breath. “I’m guessing you need a job, and a place to stay, right?” He waited for Green-eyes’ nod before continuing. “Well, I need another bartender. I had to kick our last one to the curb a few weeks ago and I’m struggling up there by myself. You won’t get rich, but your meals are included, and—” he swallowed hard, knowing he was going to get an earful from Wyatt for what he was going to say next, “—I live above the bar and I have a spare room. It’s yours if you want it.”

Green-eyes stared at him in disbelief. “Brody, you don’t know me. Good God, I don’t even know me. How do you know I’m not an axe murderer? I can’t, it’s too much—”

Keeping his voice soft and low, Brody gazed into the other man’s eyes. “I know it sounds nuts, and you’re right. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. But I tend to go with my gut, and I think you’re a good guy who’s had an awful thing happen to him. Besides.” He tilted his head and unleashed his dimples. “My Momma would kill me if I didn’t help you out.”

Brody watched a whole gamut of emotions cross Green-eyes’ face as he deliberated the offer. He understood his apprehension, how could he not? The guy had no idea who he was, where he belonged, whether there was anybody missing him. Then a complete stranger offers him a job and a place to stay as if it’s no big deal. Everything for this man was a big deal right now, he surmised. Everything must be so confusing in a world he suddenly didn’t belong in. Jesus, he was wondering what in the hell he was doing himself; he could only wonder at what must be going through the other man’s head. Keeping his face as impassive as he could, Brody sat back and let the other man think it through in silence. 

“Okay,” he eventually said, his lips curving into a smile. “We must both be nuts, but okay, yes.”

“Great.” Brody smiled, fighting the urge to fist-pump the air and do the Snoopy dance on one of the tabletops. “But before we do anything else, we have to find you a name you actually like.” When Green-eyes raised his eyebrows in answer, for the first time Brody noticed the smattering of freckles across his nose that were, quite frankly, fucking adorable. Pushing himself out of the booth, he strode across the room and grabbed the newspaper out of the rack on the wall. “Here, find yourself a new name,” he said, tossing it to him with a grin. His grin widened as the other man opened the newspaper, and he walked across the room to pull up the blind, turn back the sign, and unlock the door. 

“That’s it! That’s the one!”

Brody tried to catch the glass he was holding as it slipped from his fingers at Green-eyes’ shout. Stepping back to avoid the shards of glass flying across the floor, he looked up as the other man waved the newspaper at him as he crossed the room. “I take it you’ve found one,” he said on a chuckle, grabbing the dustpan. 

“Oh, shit, sorry.”

“It’s a bar, glasses get broken all the time, don’t worry about it,” Brody reassured, quickly sweeping up the glass and throwing it in the trash can. He looked into eyes that, for the first time, glowed with something other than fear and despair—excitement and hope. As he had done when Green-eyes had walked into the bar, Brody grinned. “Hi, I’m Brody.”

Strong fingers clasped Brody’s tightly and pumped his hand up and down, a huge smile lighting up the beautiful face. “Hi, Brody. Good to meet you, I’m Nash.”

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Release Me!!!

Forgive the cross promotion today, but I am celebrating.

I have been busy these last four weeks preparing for the big release day on 11/11/11. That was the day I could first publish my books Whiteout and Rescued, Books One and Two of the Three's Allowed Series. They have languished in nowheresville for 3-months while the mandatory waiting period passed. 

Waiting period? Yep...remember, these were the books that Cobblestone Press said they were under no obligation to sell anywhere but their own website. (Cobblestone and Harner Part Ways). At this point, I have received payment for most everything, and count myself among the lucky, if what I'm still hearing from other CP authors is true.

All I can tell you from my own personal experience, short of shouting from the roof tops via blogs, Absolute Writes, and other public forums, you will continued to be ignored.

My happy news is all three of the books from the Three's Allowed Series are now for sale, $2-3 cheaper than with CP, and available for the first time ever at Amazon.

Aren't they stunning?

One year ago today, I had one book published - Whiteout- and it was only available for purchase at the publisher's website.  A dream and a lot of hard work later, there are now 7 of my books available at Amazon, All Romance eBooks, and other online retailers!

Thanks to all of you who have played such a big role in my success!


Saturday, October 29, 2011

Six Sentence Sunday 10/29

Be sure to visit my other blog, Pen is Envy and the other Six Sentence Sunday entries. 


The Set up: Katherine "KC" Carmichael inherits a B&B called the Honey House from a virtual stranger named Joanne. KC is trying to figure what the con is, because she started working scams when she was just a little girl, but if this is a con...it's a damn good one.

The Six:
“You’re pale as a ghost, dear.”

“Funny, Joanne,” I said, wandering around the room looking for the projector.

“Yes, I thought so,” the transparent figure agreed, smiling rather smugly. "Now, please sit down because I have very little time and you must have a lot of questions.”

“Look...not that I’m admitting you’re a ghost, but say you were...where exactly would you need to be?”

“Why Rome, of course."

Read Sample or Buy at Amazon 

Read Sample or Buy at ARe