The Editor’s Kisses by Kara O’Neal

The Editors Kisses TRRThe Editor’s Kisses

Blurb:

She’s a suffragette with plans. He’s the editor with a kiss that could make headlines…

Constance Forrester has no intention of getting married. She is a suffragette and determined to change society. When Stephen Dawson, her school chum, starts a newspaper in their sleepy little town, Constance discovers an opportunity. With confidence and an unflinching will, she asks Stephen to take a risk and employ her as a journalist.

Stephen is stunned by Constance’s impossible proposal and immediately turns her down. But the small moments he’s spent with Constance have piqued someone’s curiosity, and Stephen finds himself sought after by the town princess, Madeline Talbut. Stephen has loved Madeline for years, and when the young lady finally shows an interest in him, he concocts a plan: enter into a fake courtship with Constance in order to make Madeline love him, and in return, Constance can be a journalist for his newspaper. Anonymously, of course.

It’s a chance Constance can’t pass up. So what if she has to attend parties and withstand Stephen’s heart-melting kisses? A suffragette must forge through barriers, break down walls and risk all for the sake of freedom. But Stephen changes the game, and Constance finds herself the object of the editor’s desire…

Excerpt:

“Constance,” he uttered. “I’m gonna kiss you.”

She flinched again.

“I won’t hurt you, I swear it. But if I don’t kiss you…they’ll all question us and our…attachment.” He was an ass. He was using their agreement to coax her into acquiescence, and while he knew it, and was ashamed of it, he continued. “It will only be for a second. I’ll just brush my lips with yours.”

In the darkness, he felt her slight nod against his chin. His heart pounded at her quiet surrender.

When she pulled back as far as the space would allow, and lifted her head to his, heat slashed through him. He’d never needed a kiss as much as he needed hers.

Madeline had kissed him. Once. Behind the schoolhouse when they were sixteen. And that moment hadn’t caused near the anticipation this one was.

He lowered his head and swallowed her gasp. It wasn’t a brush even though he only set his lips on hers. It was a fire. A shot of whiskey that whipped through him and pooled in his gut. He deepened the connection, and she let him, sighing and sinking into him despite already being as close to him as he could get her.

But there was a melting. A need to move to the ground and cover her, press her down and make her his. He used his tongue, tasting her. She capitulated instantly and opened her mouth under his. He took what she allowed without hesitation as his free hand came up to grip her waist.

The damn closet was too small. His left hand was wedged between her side and the slender door. But though he couldn’t get his arms around her, he didn’t stop the kiss. It went on and on, stealing his breath, tightening his chest, and making him doubt everything he’d ever known about his heart.

Rapid footsteps had him surging backward and he knocked his head on the wall.

The door was flung open and cool air blasted his cheeks. He and Constance fell out of the space, their limbs tangling as they tried to right themselves.

Peals of laughter rung around them as Stephen reached out a hand to balance her. She latched on like she didn’t want to let go, and his muscles vibrated with hope she had enjoyed the moment as he had.

It had taken less than a few seconds for him to realize kissing her had been the wrong thing to do. But also the most right, most perfect, most sound judgement he’d ever made in his life.

As those who’d crowded around the entrance to the kitchen went roaring with laughter back into the parlor, he gazed at Constance. And his world tilted.

Her flushed cheeks and bright eyes made his heart constrict with an emotion he was too afraid to name at the moment. But he knew what it was. He knew.

How in the devil had it happened? Was he a fool? A fickle man?

He swallowed. “Do you want to leave?”

And before his eyes he witnessed a transformation that set his blood on fire. Determination changed her expression, and she lifted her chin.

“Certainly not. I’m quite all right, I assure you.” She gave a shake to her skirts. “We’ve a job to do, Stephen Dawson, and I’ll not let you down.”

She exited the kitchen with a swirl of satin, and he followed with less sure steps. She wouldn’t let him down, he was positive. But he was afraid he might disappoint her, for if she knew the direction of his thoughts, she would never forgive him. Constance Forrester had no time for any man. She had plans. Plans that didn’t include caring for the heart of the newspaper editor.

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Editors-Kisses-Pikes-Run-ebook/dp/B06XP8ZQBR/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1512342384&sr=8-6&keywords=kara+o%27neal

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AuThursday – Vivian Kohlman

LichtPlease welcome Vivian Kohlman to the Clog Blog.  Vivian – Tell us a little about yourself and your background?

I was born and raised—by a single mother—in the Washington, DC area, with one older sister. I’m currently married with no kids (intentionally), and still live in the DC area. I love this town so much that even after my sister moved to Los Angeles, I just couldn’t make the switch—though I tried to live there a couple of times.

I have a Bachelor’s degree in English and an MBA in the Management of Global Information Technology (IT). I work as an IT Consultant for federal agencies and private companies, and I love my job…but I love my hobby—writing romance novels—even more! I picked up writing as a hobby only a few years ago and I’m already on my fifth book as part of the Young and Privileged of Washington, DC series. And I’m sure there are many more to come!

Aside from writing, I enjoy travelling and hiking (well, walking around wooded areas—low-impact hiking, you could say). And I love champagne brunches and Friday happy hours, or taking a walk in nice weather.

How did you come up with the idea for your YOUNG AND PRIVILEGED series?

The very first book started with the urge to write about a story of my youth, but making it play out and end much differently than it did in reality. I used the experiences and characters of my friends and me in our teens and twenties (in all of the books). The first book was very personal; the subsequent books flowed from there.

Most people think of Washington, DC as only a political place, full of stuffy congressmen and sleazy lobbyists. But the DC I know is much cooler, and much livelier. My stories focus on the part of society that doesn’t care much for politics—young and privileged adults who are lucky enough to enjoy life and all the nice things this area has to offer.

Why did I focus on this group? Because their life is fundamentally different than the average young adult’s—and it’s exciting. They live like Paris Hilton or a Kardashian—without the fame and notoriety. I think Gossip Girl (the TV show and the books) helped to lead me to this series, but on behalf of DC youth instead of NY.

What are your current projects?

I’m working on book #5 of the series right now, which is a follow-on to book #4 (“Girls Like Me”). Book 5 (still unnamed) continues the story of Ava and her boyfriend; in book 4, they met and got together.

All of the books in the series can be read alone, in any order, but it’s best to follow the series’ books sequentially to best understand the characters and storylines. Since I’m just starting out as a writer, and self-publishing, I’ve begun to try to market the series and have set up my website, Facebook page, etc—these are all in the beginning stages right now, but I plan to work more on them in 2018.

What genre are your books?

Contemporary romance. Although the characters are aged anywhere from late high-school to late twenties, the books are filled with scenarios and language that only mature audiences should read.

What draws you to this genre?

Who doesn’t love a romance? Especially one that is earth shattering and deep…a love that causes emotional elation and is usually followed by destruction. I get lost in contemporary romance stories, and hope my readers get lost in mine!

Writing romances allows me to express stories and characters from a view of what I find romantic—which isn’t always the norm. I don’t write erotica, but some scenes can be steamy. Writing about the ups and downs of falling in love, or out of love, is as much fun to write as reading about it!

How much research do you do?

Because most of what I write is from my own experiences, I don’t need to do too much research. But each story may cause me to research and item or two, and sometimes ask people for their experiences. On top of that, I sometimes choose to try out new locations around the DC area myself.

Most of the locations—bars, restaurants, neighborhoods, etc—I visit myself often, and feature the places I like (or liked, when I was younger) the most.

Do you aim for a set amount of words/pages per day?

Nope, I write in spurts. I’ve gone as much as six months without writing anything new; alternately, I’ve written over 3,000 words in a day before. I have a process worked out where I write the basic story very quickly (usually when the story strikes me), then spend the next 6 months or so revising and adding to it. Since this is just a hobby, I want to make sure I continue to enjoy it, so I put no pressure on myself to write.

Which writers inspire you?

Writers? No writer directly inspires me, but I do get inspired by movies, songs, and TV shows. So much so that I plan to stat a blog someday soon that defines all the inspirations for each book. Book 3 was inspired by a dream I had, the nuances of all the books are influenced with whatever music I’m drawn to at the time, and Games of Thrones inspired a main character in Book 4.

Although I can’t say other authors inspire me, I do enjoy reading other peoples’ work. Ironically, I like easy-to-read romance novels that are contemporary or fantasy, such as:

Jessica Sorrensen

Suzanne Collins

Bella Forrest

Cecily von Zeigesar

Jane Austen

L J Smith

Stephenie Meyer

Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?

www.viviankohlman.com

https://www.facebook.com/viviankohlman/

https://www.instagram.com/viviankohlman/

amazon.com/author/viviankohlman

All of my books are currently FREE for Kindle Unlimited subscribers. In the future, I may move to other platforms.

Do you have a sexy teaser you’d like to share with us?Book4Series

From Girls Like Me, Book 4 of the Young and Privileged of Washington, DC

I walked straight to him, knowing that the right thing to do would be talking to Miko first. But I didn’t care; I could still feel King’s arms around me, and that made me feel fantastic.

“Hey thanks for taking me off the floor,” I said, sitting down next to him on the sofa, but not too close.

“Don’t mention it. I saw the fight brewing from up here, so went down to warn you girls. You were about to be in the middle of it and my yacht’s parked closer than yours…I didn’t want to have to take you back to my place and get blood all over my pristine decks,” he said, not looking at me once, just staring at his phone.

And we’re back to mean King.

I wasn’t sure what to say, but I didn’t move an inch either. I pulled my eyes away from his face and looked down, resting on the amazingly large watch he was wearing—it was a Breitling that had diamonds around the face and it glittered slightly when the club lights hit it. Strong/soft, basic/decadent, nice/mean, hates me/wants me…this guy is an enigma.

Why is he being a dick again? Didn’t he just purposely save me from harm? So why is he acting like he hates me now?

“Uh huh. Well, I can take care of myself, you know,” I said, feeling hurt for some strange reason.

“No, you can’t. You didn’t move. Every other person outside of the fight fled the dance floor—you stood in one place, dumbstruck,” he said.

He still hasn’t looked at me once.

“Have I done something to greatly offend you, King?”

“No.”

“You seem to be, I don’t know, angry with me,” I said tentatively.

“You’re wrong.”

“So, what’s up with the short answers and you not even looking at me?”

He put his phone down and looked me directly in the eyes. Damn his eyes are so beautiful. A heat wave went through my body when our eyes locked.

“I’m pissed as hell for having to touch you. You felt so fucking good,” he said, putting a lot of emphasis on the last part of that statement.

 

Blazing Blunderbuss by Nix Whittaker

Blazing Blunderbuss by Nix WhittakerHara was shoved out of the tavern. She swore at the men and ducked when they threw her glider at her. It clattered on the cobblestones of the alleyway and she went to see if they had damaged it. The door to the tavern shut and she was left alone in an empty alleyway. She was glad she had convinced them that no matter their desire for her, she would be more trouble than pleasure.

Hara ran her hands over the wooden sides of the glider case. The box was scratched but was still in good shape. A door opened further down the alleyway and two men shoved another man out. He had his hands tied in front of him, so he stumbled and regained his balance.

He turned to the two men and said, “Hey, I’m delicate here. There’s no need to be so shovey and pushy. Remember, I’m just a professor. I don’t have a weapon. I’m not going to hurt you, so you don’t have to be so…so violent. And with all this movement I really don’t want to see my dinner again. No matter how lovely it was.”

He tried to smooth his hair away from his face, but with his hands tied together it was an awkward action. The man looked like a fop and he certainly didn’t fit in with the Roshian commoners who were holding him captive. The Roshians were also armed to the teeth—though being armed was not surprising in a smugglers’ port.

Hara hesitated. She hated fops. They were less than useless. She really shouldn’t get into this. She needed to find a way out of the town and eventually find a permanent berth. She didn’t need to get into fights with random Roshians. She sighed, because she knew it really didn’t matter. She had a thing for trouble, to the point that she wondered some days whether it was hereditary.

Hara called out, “Hey, I don’t think the toff wants to go with you guys!”

All of them turned to her. The prisoner motioned with his tied hands to shoo her away and said, “That is awfully sweet of you to say that, but these guys aren’t about to play nice. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt or anything. As long as they remember I’m delicate, I’ll be fine. Especially if they remember to use silk next time.” He grinned as if it was merely a game of sorts and he wasn’t being kept as a prisoner.

At least he was a decent guy. That made it almost a good idea to help him. Almost. She came closer and dropped her glider on the ground. It would be easier to move without it.

One of the Roshian men said, “Get lost, malenkaya devotshka. This is not your problem.”

Hara replied in Rosh. “I’m afraid I have the bad habit of making things my problem.”

One of the Roshian men held the prisoner so he wouldn’t escape and the other pulled out a large Barker Iron. There were more sophisticated weapons on the market, but it was big enough to put a pretty large hole in her. The Barkers were a favorite of Roshian revolutionaries, to the point that the revolutionaries were called Rosh Barkers after their weapon of choice.

Hara stepped closer. “If you let him go, no one has to be hurt.”

The two Roshian men looked at each other in confusion. The one with the gun turned to her and said, “You do realize there are two of us and only one of you.”

Hara grinned with her hands spread out to appear harmless. “I know. It doesn’t seem fair, does it? Maybe if I tie one of my hands behind my back it might even the odds.”

She took another step forward and the men still hadn’t tried anything. Maybe going around as a girl without a disguise was a good idea. If she had been dressed as a boy she would have been attacked already.

Hara waved her hands as she spoke. “I mean, you can’t even call for help. This alleyway is completely deserted. I doubt the people in the tavern will even rouse if they hear a small scuffle out here.”

There, she was close enough. She used the waving of her hands to disguise her movement and took the final step she needed to get close enough to the gun-waving Roshian.

Hara moved fast. Setting her feet apart for stability, she knocked his gun aside and stepped into his guard. She pulled her arm back and slammed the ball of her palm into the man’s throat. He doubled over and she helped him over a little further into her knee. He grunted and slumped to the ground, unconscious.

The other Roshian fumbled for his gun, but his prisoner saw the opportunity for escape and started to struggle. Hara grabbed the Roshian’s gun. She slammed the metal handle on the man’s face and knocked him out.

Now that she had dealt with the Roshians she turned back down the alley and picked up her glider.

The fop followed her and said, “Thank you for that. The rescue I mean.” He waved with his tied hands to indicate the alleyway and the downed men.

Hara shrugged. “You don’t happen to have a spare airship available?”

He shook his head. “I’m looking for one though. We can look for one together.”

Hara picked up her pace as she said, “That’s nice for you. But I think we might be better off on our own.”

She certainly would be better off without a fop following her around. She headed out of the alley and down the street. The fop followed. He worked the knots out of his restraints with his teeth as he skipped to keep up with her.

 

 

 

 

 

Saturday Excerpt – The Lovers by Irina Shapiro

Echoes book 1 FB“Here’s the prologue from The Lovers.  Just a little something to whet your appetite.”~Irina Shapiro

The darkness was absolute, the interior of the chest smelling rank and damp. Their bodies were pressed together, crammed in an unnatural position, limbs stiff after hours of immobility. At first, there was still hope, but it had run out, as had the air, as the tight-fitting lid prevented even the smallest amount from seeping in. His arms felt like lead, but he gathered what was left of his waning strength and lifted his hand to her face. He didn’t need to see it; her features were burned into his brain, as were those of their child. Please, God, keep the babe safe.

Her skin was still warm, but she was already gone, as surely as he would be in the next few minutes. His lungs were already burning, a sheen of sweat covering his face. He pressed his lips against her unresponsive mouth in a final kiss as a last thought flashed through his dying brain:

It was all worth it.

The Finish Line by Leslie Scott

“Whoo!” I shouted once I was safely back inside, tucked against Jordan. “I haven’t felt this—alive—in a long time.”

“No.” Jordan shook his head when I tried to hand him the money. “Your bet, your win.”

I tucked the bill into my pocket. He was the reason I could feel like this. It was all Jordan’s making, every bit of it. I was happy, free, aroused, and warm.

He was watching me more than he was watching the road, but I didn’t care.

Tension built on adrenaline and arousal filled the air. Making it so thick I had to force my breaths in and out even with the windows down. My skin was sizzling with heat, the faster he drove the hotter I got.

I was on the verge of writhing in the seat when his hand slid up my thigh, a little too high, and back down again. I gasped at the contact. His hand went perfectly still. With my heart pumping fast in my chest, I waited for something, anything. When nothing came, I used my own to guide his hand back up my thigh. I tucked my hair behind my ear and bit my lip against the rush of pleasure.

I turned and pressed myself against him, my lips seeking purchase on the warm skin of his neck.

How could one man be so attractive, so arousing? It had always been like God had made him with special specs for me.

Saturday Spotlight -Forsaking Hope by Beverley Oakley

FH Banner Forsaking Hope

Fair Cyprians of London

By Beverley Oakley

 Beverley is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the rafflecopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here.

About the Book:

Two years ago, she missed their secret assignation and disappeared without a trace. Now the divine “Miss Hope” is in Felix Durham’s bed – a ‘surprise cheering-up gift’ sourced by his friends from London’s most exclusive brothel. Felix is in heaven – and he wants to stay there.

So does Hope, but she can’t.

Hope Merriweather lives by a code of honour – even if she’s a prostitute.

Having sold her soul, she’s prepared to sacrifice everything else to protect what she believes in.

Even if honour – in her eyes – comes at the cost of thieving and breaking hearts. Including her own.

Available for preorder here:

Amazon US | Amazon UK | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Google Play

~*~*~*~*~*~

Forsaking-Hope-Generic

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Wilfred Hunt.

If there was a name to tip Hope into the abyss of despair she was hearing it spill from Madame Chambon’s lips now as the older woman directed Hope to take a seat in the reception room, presumably so Madame could loom oppressively over her.

With her hands on her ample, expensively padded hips, Hope’s benefactress—procuress, employer, and gaoler were other monikers—sent Hope a beetling look that needed no interpreting: Regardless of Hope’s true feelings, Hope must project the required show of warmth and delight at being the chosen one.

Madame patted the side of her faux curls. Years of hot irons had reduced her hair to the texture of wool but her crowning glory these days was supplemented by the lustrous locks of those girls who dared cross her – before they were thrown back into the street from where most had come.

Nevertheless, Hope had to make her resistance clear. Surely Madame who knew her history would understand her loathing for this man, above all others. “I shan’t do it,” she whispered. There was little evidence of the willful child and wild adolescent who’d been the despair of her family. “I won’t—”

Outside, the noise of the traffic rumbling over the cobbles and the shrill calls of competing vendors settled upon the tense silence. Madame Chambon’s other girls ranged around the sumptuously appointed room on red velvet upholstered banquettes, watched the exchange with prurient fascination. Hope knew it had been a calculated ploy of Madame’s to conduct her interview in public so that Hope would serve as an example to them.

No one crossed Madame Chambon.

The shrill cry of a fishmonger caused Madame to look pointedly out of the window. With something between a smile and a sneer, she smoothed a Marcel wave. “Is that where you plan to return, Hope? The gutter?” Her nose twitched and in the sunlight that filtered into the room, the grooves chiseled between mouth and chin were thrown into harsh relief, highlighted rather than hidden by the thick powder she used to conceal her age.

Madame Chambon’s comfort, now and into retirement, depended on obedient girls. Hope knew that as well as anyone. She’d had to bury her rebellious streak just to ensure food in her belly.

The Frenchwoman raised a chiseled brow and began to pace slowly in front of her girls. A painter with an eye for beauty would have been ecstatic at capturing such a spectacle on canvas. The discerning young man about town who visited 56 Albemarle Street was frequently rendered ecstatic by the range of delights Madame Chambon’s girls offered in addition to the visual.

“You forget yourself, Hope. I put a roof over your head and deck you out as handsomely as Mr. Charles Worth ever did for his most discerning customer.” There was acid in Madame Chambon’s tone. “But for me, you’d be starving and glad of the pennies you could trade for a grubby stand-up encounter in a dark alley.” Madame Chambon thrust out her bosom and breathed through her nose, her response a calculated warning to the other girls arranged in various languid poses about the ornately decorated reception room that intransigence would not be tolerated.

“Mr. Hunt has requested you.” She paused and when Hope remained silent, though her stance and expression left no one in any doubt as to her horror regarding this enforced assignation, went on. “Remember what I told you—what I tell all my girls when they first come here? The past must be forgotten the moment you step over my threshold. You are reborn, remodeled, refashioned into the most exquisite delectation of womanhood. A marquess, a prince, is well recompensed for the tidy sum he hands over in order to enjoy your sparkling wit, to converse with you in French, or if he chooses, on philosophy…to enjoy your charms…and,” she added significantly, “your gracious hospitality and tender ministrations to his needs. That is our agreement and you are no different. If Mr. Hunt wishes you, Hope, to attend him at his residence then you will go.”

Faith, one of the kinder girls, patted Hope’s arm in silent solidarity. Hope didn’t expect any of them to speak up in her defense. Not when they all relied on Madame Chambon as much as she did to provide them with the necessities of life. Anything more than that was part of a strict contract that indentured a girl for life unless she was able to secure a generous benefactor to settle Madame’s severance bill. The fine clothes were part of the charade, necessary to entice a more elite clientele. Hope’s exquisite wardrobe did not belong to her though she’d have forsaken all the dupion silk and Spitalfields lace for the freedom of the gutter and to be mistress of her own destiny – and her body – if she could only be sure of a plate of gravy and potatoes every second day.

Closing her eyes, she hung her head, the carefully coiffed curls that fell forwards brushing against her tear-streaked cheeks. It was as well that they not be in evidence. Tears, weakness, vulnerability were like a red rag to a bull where Madame Chambon was concerned.

“How long…do I have to prepare myself?” She was not so stupid she couldn’t admit defeat when there was no alternative. Obduracy was beaten out of one, but tears ensured a girl got the very worst next assignment. Their clients weren’t all marquesses and princes, though they did require a very fat pocket book.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Hope repeated it in a leaden tone, and stared at her hands, clasped in her lap; white-knuckled. As white as the rabbit-fur that edged her fashionable black-and-white striped satin cuirass. Hope had the tall, slim figure suited to the scandalously tight tie-back skirts that were all the rage, the back flowing into a train adorned with elaborate swags and trimmed with bows. She’d turned heads the length of Oxford Street as she’d promenaded along the pavement following a walk through Hyde Park earlier that afternoon. In fact, for the first time in two years, she’d almost felt happy as she’d pretended a sense of freedom in the afternoon sun, blocking her mind to the prison to which she was returning.

She drew in her breath and forced herself to be brave, knowing the punishment she’d invite for daring to speak her mind. “Please tell Mr. Hunt I will see him again under sufferance.”

Madame Chambon’s voice was surprisingly caramel. “Well then, now that you have made your objection clear, Hope, you will be pleased to hear that Mr. Hunt’s desires are not only motivated by fond memories of your no-doubt mutually satisfying congress. I believe he wishes to acquaint you with news of your family.”

Hope hid her shock. “I have no family.” With care, she modified her tone so it was as leaden as before though emotion roiled close to the surface.

“Not even a sister?”

Hope raised her chin. Here was the chink and Madame knew it. The woman did her research.

Aware that the other girls who surrounded her were tense with anticipation, Hope struggled not to respond. Camaraderie existed at surface level but one never knew when it might profit one to have the dirt on a fellow prostitute. It was, clearly, another reason Madame Chambon had chosen to make this conversation public.

“Mr. Hunt will see you at nine tomorrow evening,” said the so-called Frenchwoman who, it was whispered, was from the gutters of Lambeth, not Paris. “At his apartments in Duke Street. Now go and prepare yourself for Lord Farrow. Married to a monolith like the venerable Lady Farrow, he likes his girls vivacious and free-spirited. There’ll be less coin in your pocket if you sully the transaction with that long face, Hope.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

beverley-eikli-author-pic-copyAuthor Info:

 Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.

Twenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she ensured her heroine was saved from drowning in the icy North Sea.

Since 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Mystery, intrigue and adventure spill from their pages and if she can pull off a thrilling race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose – it’s time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch.

Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth-century lunatic asylum. She also writes Africa-set adventure-filled romances tarring handsome bush pilot heroes, and historical romances with less steam and more sexual tension, as Beverley Eikli.

You can get in contact with Beverley at:

 Website | Facebook | Pinterest | Twitter | Goodreads

 

 

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Sultry Nights Spotlight

 

SN Tour BannerSultry Nights

A Limited Edition Romance Collection

Containing Stories from:  Nicole Morgan, Jocelyn Dex, Alison Foster, Kate Richards, Linda O’Connor, Samantha Holt, Jerrie Alexander, Whitley Cox, Krista Ames, Ursula Sinclair, Measha Stone, Tuesday Embers, Siera London,  Rachel Shane, Bonnie Phelps, Misha Elliott, Alyson Reynolds, Jenna Bayley-Burke,  Madison Michael, Pepper Goodrich, Marcia James, Destiny Blaine

The authors are giving away lots of goodies with this tour. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Don’t forget you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here.

About Sultry Nights:

Love, passion, romance, and desire… No matter what your preference, this set of 22 hot and sexy reads has just what you need. From surprise love affairs to bad boys that we can’t help but fall for, and couples that were meant to be, this compilation from Romance Collections is sure to please your every single need.

Sultry Nights Buy Links:

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 Featuring:

Bedeviled by Madison MichaelBedeviled MM

 Can a love be built on lies?

Charlotte Roche is escaping a menacing threat in Boston when she moves to Chicago for a new job and a new man. Alex is smart, sexy and quickly getting under Charlotte’s skin. A shared love of running gives the sassy beauty an excuse to be near her heart’s desire, but can Charlotte run Alex from the track to the bedroom without divulging her past and risking everything?

Alex Gaines, wealthy banker and philanthropist, has held women at arm’s length all his life to protect long-held secrets of his own. Now he is torn between loving the alluring Charlotte and protecting his dual lives. Can Alex trust Charlotte with the truth or is risking his fortune and family to pursue her? Can the two fall in love when they are bedeviled by lies and half-truths?

When danger follows Charlotte to Chicago threatening her safety and their futures, Charlotte and Alex a forced to make a hard decision – choose the secrets of their past or a future together.

Bedeviled is the third novel in the Beguiling Bachelor series, a trio of steamy contemporary romances set amidst the luxury of Chicago’s elite society.

Couple in loveFlirting With Fate By Jerrie Alexander

 There is no such thing as accident; it is fate misnamed. –Napoleon Bonaparte

Elle Reagan isn’t about to stand by and let a con-artist get away with stealing her grandmother’s life savings. While the legal system moves at a snail’s pace, Elle promises to bring him to justice. She follows him to a ski resort in Colorado, where she hopes to get the evidence needed to put him away for good. But she didn’t count on her roommate being a distraction, because he wasn’t supposed to be her brother’s best friend.

Detective Logan Ford has denied his desire to take Elle into his arms since they were teenagers, but when his partner asks him to follow her to Castle Alainn to keep her out of trouble, Logan finds himself unable to refuse her. He agrees to help catch a thief instead of convincing her to pack her bags and go home. To make matters worse, he can’t seem to remember why he should keep his distance from the delectable, infuriating, independent Elle.

Elle and Logan surrender to their attraction, but as their passion ignites, her plot is discovered. A killer will do whatever it takes to silence her and destroy a love that was destined to last a lifetime.

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 All I Want By Misha Elliott

Excerpt:all I want cover

She wanted to know what would happen if she dared to kiss him. The boy who filled so many of her dreams and fantasies was here, right now with her. How hot would it be to feel his lips against her own?

Love Unleashed coverLove Unleashed By Marcia James

His best laid plans…

DJ “Rabid Ron” Hart has a grand scheme to win back the woman he loves. It involves an animal adoption fair, a goofy hairless dog named Charlie and an offer she can’t refuse.

Her hidden desires…

Cara Wilson has fantasies she’s never admitted, and her ex-boyfriend still features in her erotic dreams. If only he didn’t keep his bad-boy urges so tightly leashed.

Tonight they’ll learn that winning sometimes takes losing control.

Forbidden Distraction By Siera LondonFD Book Cover

Sex therapist, Dr. Vivianne Sloan is the consummate professional. Adhering to the highest ethical standards and doling out her vast clinical expertise, her clients are seeing a heat wave in the bedroom while Vivianne has to get hers from the Florida sun. Looking for some sexual healing, the one man she fantasizes about, a fellow colleague and her boss is strictly off-limits.

Obstetrician Gynecologist, Jared Pierce, has a flourishing medical practice. Outside of caring for his mother, there’s nothing he spends more time on, except thinking about Vivianne Sloan. She’s a distraction he can’t live with or without. He wants to teach her everything he knows about the art of lovemaking, but the woman plays by the rules.

When Vivianne decides to serve as a sexual surrogate, Jared is driven to give the shy beauty a dose of passion so potent she becomes addicted after one night in his arms. What happens when these two forbidden lovers decide to break the rules?

WC-Quick&Dirty book coverQuick & Dirty By Whitley Cox

The best way to get over a millionaire is to get under a billionaire.

 Humiliated and angry Parker Ryan is ready to erase every last trace of her ex from her mind, body, and soul. Of course she can be adventurous. Exciting. Sexy. No matter what he said. She needs an exorcism, and Tate McAllister and the island of Moorea in Tahiti are just the man and place to do it. Tate is perfect for the job: billionaire resort owner, scuba instructor, philanthropist and, let’s face it, sex god. So maybe the affair isn’t the wisest move when she has to write her damn feature piece and review the hotel, but if he’s ready and willing to wow her in and out of the bedroom for the next ten days, the fling will be worth it. Parker can get the job done and have Tate fulfill all her fantasies, and she won’t, repeat won’t fall in love with the man. Even if every part of her wants to.

ON THE RUN BY MEASHA STONE On_the_Run_modi_4

She thought she could run, but he’d never let her get away.

Sarah Bennet walked has finally found the break in her career. The sort of story to win her a byline in a serious newspaper. The only problem is, the people in the story don’t want it told. And they are willing to do anything to stop her.

Jeremy has watched Sarah from the sidelines as she’s progressed in career as a journalist waiting for the moment that he can finally retake what he lost years ago. He will protect her. He will save her from her recklessness. And by the time he’s done, he will own her.

Carried Away CoverCarried Away by Jenna Bayley-Burke

Lust brought them together. Will love tear them apart?

Any woman would willingly lock lips with sexy Mateo Torres.

But probably not on stage.

During a lap dance.

At her ex’s bachelor party.

Any man would easily get wrapped up in Carrie Nielson.

But probably not with a crowd cheering them on.

For his last performance.

As an exotic dancer.

Mateo has a past as dark as his eyes, but the best way to convince everyone she hasn’t lost her damn mind is to pretend they’re lovers.

Until they’re not pretending.

Frozen- The Martini Lounge by Ursula SinclairLAVERNEMARTINILOUNGEFROZENFINAL

Lani

Ever have that one perfect moment in time, when you know exactly what you’re supposed to do, who you’re supposed to be in life? Well, that had been me, and it certainly had lasted for more than a moment. I’d decided to pledge myself to God and help others in his name. Selfless, that was me and I was weeks away from taking my final vows. Then something happened, I met someone and suddenly I questioned everything.

Rom

I’ve always lived my life on my terms. Granted, I never thought I’d grow up to be a male stripper. But what the hell, I made good money and now, I had a shot at something more. And the women. Yeah, I loved women but they came and went. I preferred it that way. Didn’t matter which of us left first, as long as one of us did. I didn’t do attachments. Then something happened. I’m no saint, but I saved someone and wanted an attachment.

Only to find out I could never have her.

23584498_10156020489863678_714722810_nMore than Friends by Krista Ames

Lanie Matthews is the classic girl next door.  Jake Cooper is her best friend.  Will they ever be more than friends?  One lust-filled night may prove more than they both expected.

 

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