Love Entwined Giveaway and Excerpt on Just Paranormal Romance!





Hello Lovely Readers!

I have a surprise for you. I am featuring a never-before-seen excerpt of my new paranormal romance Love Entwined on Just Paranormal Romance! It is my very first time on JPR and I am so excited to have a giveaway going on over there. Come on by and leave a comment for a chance to win!

Kacey Hammell: 69 Mustang Book 1 Revved and Ready Giveaway



By Kacey Hammell

Book 1: Revved and Ready Series

Contemporary Erotic Romance

ISBN: 9780987799319

Word Count: 4,415 Short Story

Only $0.99 cents!!!

 Welcome Kacey Hammell with her exciting release ’69 Mustang! Leave a comment and your email address to join Kacey’s giveaway.


Revved and Ready for passion, heat sizzles between two friends…

For Hayley Fitzgibbon, the heat wave blanketing her small town is nothing compared to the inferno inside her whenever she looks at her best friend, Rory. On the night of his parents’ anniversary party, she no longer resists her burning desire and makes it known how much she wants him. Secluded under a willow tree, down a lover’s lane, she’s revved and ready to claim her man on the top of his ’69 Mustang.


Excerpt © Kacey Hammell, 2013:

“The party was fantastic, Rory. Your parents looked so happy.” Hayley Fitzgibbon shifted in the front seat of the black ’69 Ford Mustang her long-time best friend owned since he turned twenty-one. She’d come to love it as much as he did, how it handled. It still hummed like it had when brand new. No car was sexier to her. Mustangs, especially the classic ’69 had lines that were slick, masculine and just screamed fast and hardcore. The vibration from the engine tingled through the back of her thighs and buttocks causing a delicious thrill through her body. “Thanks for driving me home. It was a great celebration. I can’t believe your parents have been married fifty years.”

“Yeah. It’s practically unheard of these days.” Rory clicked on his blinker then turned right. “They really seemed to like the gift Max and I got them. You think so?”

She nodded and brushed the white shrug off her shoulders. The heat wave spreading through Belleville, Ontario had reached staggering levels in the last couple of days. The air conditioning in the car barely cooled her skin. Plus being such an enclosed space alone with him after hours of dancing, soft touches as they mingled and were less than five feet away from one another all night had her on edge. “Of course they did. Who wouldn’t want to take a three-week cruise around the Caribbean? I’ll be sure to remind you and your brother of your generosity for my next birthday.”

He laughed and winked. “You’d have to be a very, very good girl.”

I’ll show you just how good I can be. Hayley pushed the thought away. For weeks she’d been having the same dream over and over. The erotic fantasies starring herself and Rory had left her breathless every time she woke, sweating and panting. It was all she thought about anymore. Images of the two of them having hot, sweaty sex—anywhere and everywhere—consumed her day and night. She trembled, flashes of heat zinging along her spine. Heart racing, she drew in a deep breath.

He captivated her in so many new ways these days. His kindness had always been there, but lately, she’d smile if mentioned helping an elderly lady get her groceries to the car. And the way he talked about himself, she got upset and angry. He complained about being a ginger, especially in the summer when he burned easily, but she loved his unique looks. Kind of geeky and studious mixed with sexiness and cute buoyancy he didn’t realize he possessed. She disliked hearing him put himself down.

How were any of her new reactions possible? They’d been best friends forever, and had shared all their secrets with one another.

Maybe the intense and potent way he looked at her now. At times when she’d glance at him, she’d catch darkness and smoldering heat in his eyes that made it difficult to breathe. Was it because she’d slimmed down over the last eight or nine months. She didn’t want to think about him like that, knew deep down that he wasn’t that shallow. But he had been giving her the eye lately, passion-filled stolen glances. Since then, the air around them had shifted.

He hadn’t hidden his reaction to her tonight when he’d picked her up for his parents’ anniversary party either.  Rory’s normally soft hazel eyes had turned a golden rich hue, and when she walked out of her bedroom, he’d let his gaze roam over her body. She knew she looked great in the bright blue satin, off-one-shoulder, mid-thigh gown that really made the azure in her eyes pop. Perhaps he agreed. His breath had hitched, his hands shook as he’d helped her with her shrug. His touch had lingered on her shoulders longer than needed. The warmth from his palms scalded against her already hot skin. He’d stood inches behind her, smoothing his hands down her back, and electricity tingled through her body, filling her with sudden fervor and desperation to feel his embrace. And make some of those naughty dreams she’d been having come true.

“You’ll be what, thirty-seven in a couple months, Hales? Maybe we should plan a cruise or something awesome for your fortieth? You’d look amazing in a skimpy bikini you know. Maybe a nude beach?”

The sound of Rory’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She gulped and cleared her dry throat. “Um, yeah. Sure.” The air in the vehicle was nearly smothering.

“Hey.” He laid a hand on her thigh. Hayley gasped. Heat shot along the skin, hitting her straight to her pussy. Her pulse raced. “It’s like you’re in another world. You okay?”

“Of course,” Trying to mask her nerves, she laughed away his concern. “Fine. Just warm in here.” And I want you. So bad.


Amazon — US / Canada / UK



5 Stars from Susan W. @ ~ “If you have only a short amount of time and want to read something hot then this is the book to read. Loved this story and can’t wait to read more in this series!”


5 Stars from Lindsay @ ~ “This short read is a hot one. Guaranteed to make your body temperature rise, and will have you thinking of other uses for your car in no time. I’m looking forward to checking out the next installments in this series.”


5 Stars from Amy Miller @ ~ “Great story about two friends who both are in love with one another. On one hot night they finally go for it and put their friendship on the line and it involves a super hot car and hot sex. What more can you ask for. For a short read this is a good one. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Great Job Kacey Hammell!!”


4.5 Stars from Author, Carly Fall ~ “…true Kacey Hammell style: written well, hot sex and fun characters.”


4 Stars from Author, Lucy Felthouse ~ “…very well-written, hot and sultry read with a satisfying outcome.”



Avid Reader. Romance Author. Redhead…

Canadian-born author, Kacey Hammell is definitely a book-a-holic, who began reading romances at a young age and became easily addicted.  These days, as a multi-published erotic romance author, she enjoys adding a lot of heat, sass and emotion to the Contemporary Romances she writes.

A mom of three, Kacey has made certain each of her children know the value of the written word and the adventures they could escape on by becoming book-a-holics in their own right. She lives her own happily ever after with her perfect hero in Ontario, Canada, and is a true romantic at heart.

Connect with Kacey…

Website / Newsletter / Facebook / Facebook Author Page / Twitter / Amazon / Goodreads / Pinterest / Instagram



For a “bag of swag”, simply Answer the Question below, and be entered to win. Winner will be drawn Sept 13th.

Question – How old will Hales be in a couple of months? (from excerpt above)

Good luck!

Susan C. Muller: The Witch on Twisted Oak


Welcome Susan C. Muller with her new release The Witch on Twisted Oak. I have a special place in my heart for witches 🙂 and just had to interview Susan to see how she ticks.

Susan will be awarding a $20 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour, and a $20 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn host.


Susan C. Muller Interview 

Woohoo! You are a published author. Describe a strong character trait you possess, good or bad, and how it helped you become a published author. I’m not sure if this is a good character trait or a bad one, but I’m just plain stubborn, that’s all there is to it. If you want me to do something, tell me I can’t. The first book I ever wrote was awful. I had over a hundred (well deserved) rejections. In fact, I threw that book away the other day and I saw a man digging in my recycle bin. He didn’t take it either, so I guess you can say I was rejected 101 times.

I didn’t give up. I read books on craft, took classes, found critique partners, and, when I felt I had improved, entered contests. I didn’t submit again until I had won my first contest. That’s when Soul Mate Publishing offered me a contract.

Sometimes an author begins writing a story before they are aware of its genre. Did you choose your genre, or did it choose you? I’ve always liked mysteries, so I intended to write romantic suspense. When my D-I-L told me that paranormal romance was the in thing, I thought, I can do that. But it turned out I couldn’t. I’m not big on zombies with all that rotting flesh, and werewolves make me wonder how much electrolysis the couple’s offspring might need. As for vampires, their blood is always cold. Can you imagine you heroine saying, “Oh, baby. You’re so cold. You turn my blood to ice?”

 I decided I, or my cop hero, could handle one little witch and my paranormal romantic suspense was born.

The plot thickens, or does it? Which one are you, a pantser or a plotter? I want to be a plotter, I truly do. Life would be so much easier if I had an outline, a roadmap if you will. With each new book, I sit down with a yellow legal pad and declare I’m going to outline. An hour later I’ve covered the page with doodles and let the dog out three times, but I haven’t even started an outline.

Here’s what I’ve found works for me. I know what the crime is, who did it, who will solve it, and the clue that will lead the hero in the right direction. I might know one or two things that will happen along the way. The rest is just as much a mystery to me as it is to the reader.

And that’s what makes writing so much fun.

Fear 101: As writers it is our duty to make our characters face their fears. Have you ever included one of your own fears in a storyline? I was, and still am, very shy. As a child I felt awkward, sure I didn’t fit in. In my grade school photos, I look like the little kid from two grades younger who wandered in by accident.

In The Witch on Twisted Oak, my hero, Ruben, has the opposite problem. By age eleven, he was taller than most grown men. He was a clumsy kid, often tripping over his own feet. Even as a grown man, he’s uncomfortable with his height and the attention it brings him. So, of course, I put him in situations where he felt awkward until he learned to accept himself.

Fear 102: Yes, deadlines are terrifying. Have you conquered the juggling act between writing and the rest of your life? What do you do when it feels like the balls are dropping all around you? No one completely conquers that juggling act. I’m retired and could write all day and well into the night if I wish, but things manage to distract me and it’s late afternoon before the words start flowing. Somehow, when that deadline looms, or disaster strike, I manage to shift into high gear and get it all done. At least that’s worked so far.

Switch positions with one of your main characters in a scene. What is the outcome, disaster or divine intervention? In The Witch on Twisted Oak, Ruben and Tessa are being chased through the woods by a very bad guy. Ruben needs to circle back and confront the villain, but he has to keep Tessa safe. He hollows out a spot under a tree and covers her with leaves. She is supposed to stay completely still until Ruben comes back. Naturally, her nose starts running, ants crawl up her leg, and she needs to go to the bathroom.

I wouldn’t have lasted five minutes without screaming.

 Where is your favorite place to write? Add that one comfort food that you can’t do without. My house is forty years old and has a formal living room. Like most living rooms, it has seldom been used. Last summer I turned it into my office and that’s where you’ll find me most days. I prefer writing on my desktop computer. I have taken my laptop to Starbucks’ or Panera Bread, but I find the distractions, too . . . distracting.

I don’t eat while I’m writing, but if seven o’clock comes around and I’m still working, I’m not opposed to a glass of wine. Six o’clock if the scene’s giving me trouble.

Writing inspirations? Anyone who has gone through tough times and kept on going.

You are introduced to your favorite author. Who is it, and what is that one burning question you must ask them? My favorite author is the one I’m reading at the time. I like John Sandford, Robert Crais, Jim Butcher, Lee Childs, and anyone else who kills people and blows things up. I’ve read most of what these prolific authors have to say about the writing process so if I were fortunate to meet one of them I would simply say, “Thank you.”

I’ve gone mad – why don’t you come with me? Some people just don’t understand us writers. Name a quirky, writer-thing you do that friends wish you didn’t. Whenever I hear a good description or an interesting colloquialism, I whip out my little notebook and write it down. Ditto an unusual name of a person or place. I’ve embarrassed my friends by asking a stranger to repeat something. But, hey, if you don’t write it down, you’ll never remember it. I have funny lists no one else would understand stuck everywhere.


The Witch on Twisted Oak by Susan C. Muller


A powerful psychic is brutally murdered.  Secrets are revealed.  An old enemy is out for revenge.

Detective Ruben Marquez is thrust back into his childhood memories when he investigates a gruesome murder that occurs only feet from his mother’s home.  Is the killer somehow connected to his own past?  Is the beautiful, mysterious daughter of the victim, someone he can trust?  Or is her revelation that she’s a witch a sign he should stay clear.  But how can he, when it appears she’s next on the murderer’s to-do list.

In the ultimate test of courage, he uses himself as bait to protect all he holds dear . . . his career, his family, and the Witch on Twisted Oak.



The bell rang on the far elevator and Ruben twisted in time to see a tall woman step out. She was young, no more than twenty-eight or twenty-nine. He looked closer, thirty, maybe. Her build was hard to determine under a long, diaphanous skirt that almost brushed the floor and a gauzy blouse that hung to her hips.

Despite several people in the hall, she headed directly for him. Her skirt and blouse flowed back against her body, revealing a slim figure. Her eyes and hair were as dark as his own, and her olive complexion glowed like polished brass.

“I’m Theresa Reyna. Yolanda Garza’s . . . niece.”

“I’m Detective Ruben Marquez,” he said.

“Yes, I recognize you. You really haven’t changed much.”

What did she mean by that? He’d never seen her before. He’d have remembered that face. “Let’s get my partner and head into one of the interview rooms. It’ll be quieter in there.”

Ruben strode to the squad room and beckoned to Adam. When he looped back toward the woman he did a double take. She faced away from him and her hair hung past her shoulders in a black waterfall. The florescent lights that made most people look sickly, reflected off the darkness like the full moon in a mirror.

A feeling of déjà vu swept over him and was gone. Where had that come from?

Adam rounded the corner and she twisted back, her hair billowing around her, framing her face.

Ruben stumbled over the introductions and led them toward the furthest interview room. He needed the time to clear his head. He could feel Adam studying her. Adam might be spoken for, but he wasn’t dead.

authorpicAuthor Bio and Links:

 Susan C. Muller is a fourth generation Texan. She attended Stephen F. Austin State University where she majored in Business Administration. She started her first novel at age eleven, but it wasn’t until after she had worked many years and raised a family that she returned to her first love, writing. She is a member of Northwest Houston RWA, Kiss of Death online RWA, and The Houston Writers Guild. Her novel, The Secrets on Forest Bend, has won several awards.

 Susan and her husband, Sid, live in Spring, Texas with their rescue dog, Buster, a 120 pound black lab of advanced age. They have two children and four grandchildren. They love to travel and have been fortunate to see much of the world. Her favorite places include Kenya, New Zealand, and the Galapagos Islands. When not writing, she can be found doing volunteer work at a local hospital. She loves to read, travel, snorkel and take long walks.


Rose Wynters on Tour: Delicate Devastation


Delicate Devastation (The Endurers #3) by Rose Wynters

Erotic Paranormal Romance

Categories: Action/Adventure, Horror, Armageddon

Publisher: Rose Wynters   Release Date: June 11, 2013   Heat Level: Sizzling  Word Count: 50,000

Available at:

Amazon –

ARe –


Print –


Welcome Rose Wynters to the blog with her delicious new offering Delicate Devastation. Check out the prizes Rose is giving away to some lucky commenters:
FIRST PLACE (Over 18, USA only): Print copy of “Delicate Devastation”, Rose Wynters ink pen, The Endurers bookmark
RUNNERS-UP (Over 18, Int): 2 eBook copies (1 each to 2 winners) of Delicate Devastation
Contest is tour-wide and ends Sept 14. Must be 18 years of age or older to enter. 
Tour link:


Peter Rynalt is an immortal Endurer that has dedicated his life to protecting humanity…. And enjoying only the most beautiful women. Born in 1103 in the Welsh countryside, his mortal life as Priest ended when Hell decided to crucify him. Known as the priest by some and the playboy by others, he leads an action-packed, dangerous life fighting demons and taking his pleasures where he likes. Until the night Kim runs into his arms, terrified and desperate for help after a demon attacks her.

Kim Jones is known and respected as a fun-loving, New Orleans beauty. Men want her, and women want to be her. It wasn’t always that way, though. She is haunted by her past and terrified her beauty won’t last forever. One night, fate presents her with a one-time opportunity to have the sexy Endurer that she desires. They discover an insatiable hunger that can’t be satisfied, but is it enough for Peter?

Amidst the desperate and devastated streets of New Orleans, the major players continue to make their moves in a game of destiny that will affect the future of the entire world. Each day brings them one step closer to Armageddon…. And Hell keeps upping the ante. When citizens start disappearing, The Endurers work hard to find the group of demons responsible before they die.

It all comes to shattering climax when one of their own experiences a horrendous act that devastates his life and leaves him in shame. Evil knows no bounds and is determined to walk away the winner. Can Peter capture his queen in time?

Warning: This title is intended for readers over the age of 18 as it contains explicit sex scenes and/or situations and adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers.




Copyright 2013 Rose Wynters

Her body was mouthwateringly gorgeous, but painfully thin. He walked closer to her, his eyes quickly scanning each injury. She was covered in scratches, cuts, welts, and bruises. They were fully setting in, and he knew they would look much worse before ever looking better. He growled when he saw the fingertip bruises on her throat.

“He choked you?” He enunciated each word, anger making his tone thick and dangerous, even to his own ears. He wasn’t sure why he felt so overwhelmingly protective over her, but something about her made him extremely possessive. It was a foreign emotion, and one he wasn’t quite sure how to handle.

Her slender hand moved up to her throat gently, her painted red nails erotic against the pale skin. “He must have. It all happened so fast. All I know is that I fought hard to get away from him.” Her hazel eyes shut briefly as she inhaled, struggling for control.

She was so damned delicate he couldn’t believe she had walked away from her encounter. Her fragile state reminded him of her mortality, and it angered him. He shoved a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Why in the hell are you so damn thin? Are you sick, or have you been dieting?” He spat the last word out at her, as she pulled the towel free from her hair to comb through the silky strands.

He suspected it was the latter, and he couldn’t understand why women were so obsessed with it. She was so damned beautiful, exuding a raw sexuality that was making the caveman in him roar to life. Desperately he fought the sensual weave she was unconsciously weaving, but it was a battle he was losing fast.

“You look like death, and you’re way too slender. You’re lucky to still be alive.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, as a look of irritation and something unidentifiable flickered across her face. Her arms crossed across her chest before she briefly looked away, her cheeks pink. When she turned back to him, she was completely in control.

“Get laid much, Peter? If that’s your approach, I’m surprised you aren’t a virgin. My weight isn’t any of your business, so butt out. Besides, men love my body.”

He growled, enraged at the thought of another man seeing her. She’d just waved a red flag in front of this bull, and it was a challenge he wouldn’t back down from. When he spoke, his voice was deathly quiet and cold as ice. “Really? Let a lot of them see it, huh?”

She flushed, but didn’t back down. “What’s it to you, one way or another?”

“Nothing,” he responded, his face serious and his voice harsh with lust. “It was nothing to me before tonight. That was before you walked into my bedroom naked, your body begging for this hard shaft between my legs. While you’re in here, you won’t be talking or even thinking about other men. You’ll be too busy thinking about me, feeling me, as I bring that sweet area between your legs pleasure like it has never known before… Or will again.”


About the Author:

When not writing, I enjoy traveling, meeting new people, and having fun! I love plotting what my characters will do next, and thinking up exciting, dangerous, and edgy books. I’ve been told I have a wicked sense of humor and often this can be seen in my writing.

I have a ton of likes, most especially books, gorgeous men, The Walking Dead, and True Blood. I interact quite a bit on my website, offering unique giveaways and having fun meeting readers. Feel free to drop by and post a comment!


Connect with Rose Wynters

Website –

Twitter –

Facebook –

Goodreads –

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Jennifer James on Tour: Covert Craving

CCJJ_tour button

Welcome Jennifer James to the blog with her new release Covert Cravings. Leave a comment on Jennifer’s post to enter this fabulous giveaway. Before we get into this exciting story, Jennifer shares her thoughts on a topic I can’t get enough of. Take it away Jennifer!


Hi Danita thanks for having me on.

So…Hi. My name’s Jenn. And of course since it’s my first time visiting with Danita, I had to go around and be nosy and look at her books and read her bio and in general do some socially acceptable stalking.

And what do I find but her books. With reincarnation in them. OOOOOHHHHH. Me likey. I’m fascinated by the concept.

It’s cool right? Not only do you not really die, you get to leave your body and get a new one! With a whole new life ahead of you. Some people think you don’t remember anything about your past life. Some people think you do, but on a subconscious level so that you can improve upon yourself, learn from past mistakes and get better. Achieve a higher spiritual plane. And some other people think if you committed severe acts of asshattery, you come back as an undesirable life form. Like, I don’t know. A garden slug.

Slug_book pirate (1)

(Thank you Wikimedia Commons for the slug picture!)

I love to read stories about people who have memories from past lives (like the little boy who told his parents in detail about being a WWII fighter pilot). But the people who swear they were Cleopatra, or some other big wig? Probably not. You see, there’s lots more of us “normal” people than there are presidents, queens, or visionaries like Leonardo Da Vinci.

Heck, I bet Leonardo didn’t come back. That was probably his last go-round, don’t you think? OR! If he was back again, he was probably a genius like Steve Jobs. I mean, like the guy or hate him, Jobs did amazing stuff for technology.

I think I was probably just a normal gal in a past life. Living on a farm somewhere, digging up potatoes. Although, I hope I had at least one past life where I was a guy. I really wish (sometimes) that I could pee standing up. And seriously, you ever read any historical accounts of pioneer life? Or Victorian era stuff? (Although, I found out recently there were some of those “prim and proper” Victorian ladies out piercing their nipples. Holla! Somebody gettin’ kinky…)

My point is, life was really, really hard. Especially for women. Babies, endless babies, and crazy dress codes that basically suffocated you, and crazy laws that made you unable to own anything yourself. thanks, bye.

All in all, it’s a good time to be alive, right? *grin*




She just stripped in front of an NYPD detective…

The glow-in-the-dark water at Camp Sunny Woods left Chloe Saunders with the ability to disappear from sight.

Thirteen years later, she uses her “gift” to take out criminals when she can. If she’s got to be part of a freak show, she’s going to do some good while in the buff.

And he’s enjoying studying every luscious curve…

Color blind detective Jacob Greiff smokes to weaken the overwhelming messages his nose sends him. One summer camp trip was enough for him. His priority right now is busting the vigilante leaving burglars tied up with panty hose and women’s scarves.

He thinks he’s hallucinating when he sees a petite, bare foot brunette in an enormous trench coat at his crime scenes because for the first time in years, he’s seeing someone in full color.

He’s not sure he’s buying it, but Chloe sure looks great when she’s “invisible.”

Despite his own supernatural abilities and the raging lust between them, Greiff wonders if Chloe isn’t some kind of nut who gets off on public nudity. She insists she can disappear from view when naked, that he’s the only one who can see her when she’s in the buff.

Their shared past comes to a treacherous intersection when a man shows up at Chloe’s apartment and informs them at gun point it’s time to report for duty—or else.



Greiff got to his feet and helped her stand. He steadied her with both hands at her waist. “Come on, honey. Hopefully things get nice and boring from here.”

“One can hope.”

They clambered back into the boat, and he lead her to the stairs to go below deck.

A wicked light lit his eyes and he licked his lower lip, his attention zeroed in on her breasts. “There’s a small shower stall and fresh water tank on this boat.”

“Well, salt water does get pretty itchy if you don’t wash it off.”

Lucky cussed and slouched down in one of the chairs. “I’m the one who got shot. I should be getting laid, not him.”

She ignored the whining and let Greiff carry her to the head.

Once inside, he stripped her clothes from her body and forced her to sit on the toilet lid. A cushy towel softened the hard surface.

“No food on board, but otherwise this place is pretty decked out.” He started the shower water and removed his destroyed suit pants.

The hard, thick length of his cock jutted out and she grasped it in one hand. She licked a circle around the head and he tensed, both hands fisted at his sides.

“You’re salty.”

“Ocean water.” His voice sounded strained.

She pumped her fist up and down once, and licked him again. His nostrils flared, and he buried his fingers in her hair.

“I can smell how aroused you are. How wet.” He bent down and cradled her in his arms. “And I think I promised you something.”

She sucked in a deep breath and met him for a long, hungry kiss. They moved under the water spray, and he twined her legs around his waist, supporting her weight with one hand.

“How are you doing that?”

The water cascaded over his dark hair and into his eyes. “I got an extra dose of the Professor’s secret sauce recently. At least, that’s what Lucky thinks. It made me stronger.”

“Oh, Greiff.” Anger, sadness, and helplessness replaced some of her ardor.

“Shh, sweetheart. There ain’t nothin’ to do about it now.” He reached behind her and grabbed a bottle of floral scented shampoo. He moved and pinned her to the cold wall of the stall with his groin and one knee beneath her ass. The heat of his shaft was trapped between them. “You okay? You complained about your pelvis earlier.”

“Oh, I’m terrific.”

The blue of his eyes gleamed, and he massaged the lather into her hair, then his. With slow, exquisite care, he washed every inch of their bodies, then took the shower head down and sprayed them off. He spun around and rested his back against the wall.

“I need to soap your back.” He handed her the shower head.

Desire melted her muscles into putty. Unable to take more of his hands roving over her, but never touching her where she craved the most, she wrapped his cock in her fist and stroked it hard. She licked his chest to his neck until she reached his mouth and plunged her tongue inside.

“Give me that.” He reclaimed the shower head and positioned it so the stream struck her clit from behind.

The force of the water teased and tormented, but wasn’t enough to shove her off the precipice into orgasm. He sucked on her neck and ears, the heavy muscle of his thigh dug into her ass cheek. She wriggled and squirmed as her frustration mounted.

“That feels good.” With both forearms on his shoulders and the strength in her thighs, she hoisted herself higher and sank down again. “But you inside me would be even better.”

“Not in here.” He re-mounted the shower head in the holder over head. “You’re not healed enough if we slip and fall.”

“Jake—” His name sounded a lot like a whine, even to her, but she didn’t care.


He strode into the bedroom with the water still running and laid her down on the bed careful not to let his weight rest on her legs. With both hands, he spread her thighs wide and kissed his way from her belly button to her clit.



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Jennifer James hates to talk about herself in the third person and has now started so many series books she’s wondering if she has a mental illness. A traditionally published author who recently dipped her toes into the oceans of Indie land; she’s finding the water quite nice and plans on sticking around. She loves Dirty Palmers in the summer, Spiked Cocoas in the winter, and Jack and Honey with Pepsi any time at all. Recent college grad, wife, mother, cat wrangler, and dog belly scratcher, Jenn spends a lot of time at her computer, frowning at the shenanigans of people only she can hear.







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JoMarie DeGioia on Tour: Just Perfect

VBT_JustPerfect_Banner (1)

Just Perfect                                                                                                                               by JoMarie DeGioia

JoMarie will be awarding Loose Tea and chip nuts to two randomly drawn commenters during the tour.


William Chesterton, the Earl of Chester, might be the perfect gentleman, but his feelings for Constance Bridgewater are anything but gentlemanly.

Constance Bridgewater, the daughter of the late Earl of Bridgewater, might be the perfect lady, but her feelings for the Earl of Chester are anything but ladylike.

They both know that if they were together, everything would be just perfect.

So what is keeping them apart?

 Cover_Just Perfect


London, England 1825 

William Chesterton, the Earl of Chester, sat in his comfortable parlor swirling an untouched glass of brandy in his hand. Spring had come at last to London, though the April evening was still chilled and damp. His staff had seen to the modest fire burning behind the grate, and the warmth lulled him into a false sense of serenity. It did nothing to dispel the turmoil deep inside, however.

Most of the ton, his closest friends included, believed he was a steady man with a calm demeanor. That was true, for the most part. In the whole of his life, from his privileged childhood through his early ascension to the earldom upon his dear father’s passing, he’d been as steady as the Thames. Stalwart companion, dutiful only son, closest confidant. It was all so bloody boring.

He drank from his glass at last, his eyes on the fire. Tonight had gone just as so many nights before. The season was in its early stages and yet the parties and frivolities had already started. He’d joked with his friends, danced with their wives and sisters, and made certain not to show undue attention to marriage-minded young ladies. Their mothers would love to snare the calm and affable Earl of Chester for their daughters. That was certain.

He’d played his part as was expected, and even managed to ignore the urge to dance with one particular young lady more than the allotted two times. It had nearly killed him. Constance Bridges, the late Earl of Bridgewater’s daughter, was the only woman he wanted for more than two dances.

Her lithe body, her pale golden hair and sparkling gray eyes, were like no other woman’s he’d encountered. Last year, at yet another interminable house party, at one of his happily married cohorts’ estates, he’d attempted to make her see she was more than a pleasant diversion. He wasn’t merely a willing dance partner or riding companion, either. He might have acted a bit wild, however, and no doubt frightened her out of her wits.

He lifted the glass to his lips again and smiled. Ah, but that five seconds he’d spent holding her close, her breath warm on his cheek, her pink lips so close to his . . . he still got hard thinking about the heat she hid beneath that alabaster skin. He’d seen burgeoning knowledge in those gray eyes of hers, too. She’d wanted him. He’d stake the considerable estate his father left him on that fact.

She was a puzzle, to be sure. So serene and bashful on the surface, yet he knew she was more than the perfect picture she presented. He downed his brandy and let out a frustrated breath.

He was tired of playing the nice fellow. If he risked his lauded reputation in the process, so be it. He wanted more in his life than polite dinners and mildly pleasant diversions. He wanted love and passion and everything his friends had been lucky enough to find.

He knew Constance was the one to show him that heat. He drained the glass, letting the smooth liquor burn pleasantly down his throat.

He couldn’t wait to find out just how hot the fire inside her burned.

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 JoMarie DeGioia has been making up stories for as long as she can remember, and has spent years giving voice to the characters in her head. She’s known Mickey Mouse from the “inside,” has been a copyeditor for her town’s newspaper, and a bookseller. She writes Historical and Contemporary Romances, along with Young and New Adult Fantasy stories. She divides her time between Central Florida and New England. You can contact her at

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