Sunday, August 30, 2015

Looking For A Free Read? Grab Your Copy Of Bro Today #ebook #romance


Bro - the Story Behind the Antonello Brothers


Senth and Khyff, the Antonello Brothers from At the Mercy of Her Pleasure and For Women Only, did not grow up together. They were separated at Senth's birth. Bro shows how and why, and what event reunited them.
Funny and yet touching, Bro takes you inside the Tarthian Empire and introduces you to three of its major denizens: Senth and Khyff Antonello, and Luc Saint-Cyr. You'll find them in many stories in the Empire. Come and meet them in Bro.
 
Grab your copy today


Tuesday, August 25, 2015

This Week's #TeaserTuesday with Karen McCullough



"Miss!" 
The word slithered from the bushes behind her, startling Catherine Bennett out of the few wits she'd managed to recover in the peace of the dark, quiet garden. Thready strains of violin music and the buzz of voices drifted across the lawn from the open door to the house. In the light spilling out from it, she could distinguish a couple of people sitting at a table on the deck. Cathy measured the distance with her eye. A good, heavy-duty scream would be heard, even over the party noises. 
"Please, miss!" Tense urgency drove the voice as it called again. 
She didn't need this. The evening had been disastrous enough already and a man hiding in the garden spelled trouble with capital letters. She got up and backed away, while turning to face the source of the call. 
"Don't run away, please," the voice begged. "I won't hurt you. I promise. I just want to ask you something." 
A ring of sincerity in the pleading tone kept her from sprinting straight back to the house, an action the more cautious part of her brain urged. Cathy strained for a look at the person in the shrubbery. The voice was male and adult, though probably not very old. "Come out where I can see you," she demanded. 
"Shhh!" he ordered in a fierce whisper. Leaves rustled, and a slender shape detached itself from the bushes. In the darkness she couldn't distinguish his features. 
A light breeze in her face set her shivering. "What do you want?" She backed another step away. They both jumped when a particularly loud laugh rang across the yard. 
He turned to face the house. "You been at the party?" 
At it, not of it, Cathy thought. She didn't say so; the young man wouldn't understand the distinction. "Yes," she answered. 
"You know a guy named Peter Lowell?" 
"Yes," Cathy admitted, wondering where this was leading. 
The young man's indrawn breath sounded almost like a sob. "He's in there, ain't he?" 
"Yes." 
"Could you ask him to come out here?" 
"I don't know. We just met tonight and I. . . I don't think he liked me very much. He might not come." 
"Please. It's real important. You gotta try." A quiver shook the young man's body and voice. Tension or fear -- or both? Whichever it was, he sounded near the breaking point. 
"All right. Who should I tell him is here?" 
The clouds drifted apart and the moon emerged from their shadow. A sliver of light fell across the man's cheek and glinted off the sheen of perspiration there. "Tell him . . . Tell him it's Bobby. He'll come, I promise." 
Cathy sighed. "All right, I'll try. Wait here." She turned toward the house when another noise sounded behind them -- the crackle of twigs or dried leaves underfoot. 
Bobby's head jerked around toward the bushes, then he called again, "Wait!" There was no mistaking the sheer desperation in his voice now. "Please. Wait." He looked from her face to the shrubbery and back again. "I better give you the message. Tell this to Mr. Lowell, and no one else. Promise you won't tell anyone else?" 
Cathy went back to him, found one of his arms, and pulled him back into the shadow of a large boxwood. The arm she held was trembling. "All right," she said. "What's the message?" 
The young man looked around the yard and took a couple of quick, shallow breaths. "Tell him Danny was framed. I got the proof. Tell him--" 

Where to buy

About The Author


Karen McCullough’s wide-ranging imagination makes her incapable of sticking to one genre for her storytelling. As a result, she’s the author of more than a dozen published novels and novellas, which span the mystery, fantasy, paranormal, and romantic suspense genres. A former computer programmer who made a career change into being an editor with an international trade publishing company for many years, she now runs her own web design business to support her writing habit. Awards she’s won include an Eppie Award for fantasy; three other Eppie finals; Daphne, Prism, Dream Realm, Rising Star, Lories, Scarlett Letter, and Vixen Awards, and an Honorable Mention in the Writers of the Future contest. Her short fiction has appeared in several anthologies and numerous small press publications in the fantasy, science fiction, and romance genres. She lives in Greensboro, NC, with her husband of many years.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KarenMcCulloughAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/kgmccullough



Friday, August 21, 2015

Quick #Giveaway For The Weekend







Kiera attacked the ingredients in the bowl with a spoon. “Gray, this is like the third time you’ve seen me in three years. Maybe I’ve become a junk food junky.” She heard the bite in her tone.

His hand fell away. “Did I do something?”

She shook her head. “I just meant that people change.”

Gray’s hand came down on hers, forcing her to stop mixing the frosting. “You’re beating that frosting to death. If I made you mad, just say so.”

Kiera released her death grip on the spoon. “I’m not mad. Confused a little, that’s all.”

“Because of earlier?”

“No. Because Boston traded their star pitcher to Baltimore.” He had to ask?

Gray smiled, and she imagined his lips pressed against hers again.

“Fair enough. That was a stupid question.” He turned her, so they faced each other. “I didn’t intend to confuse you, but since the wedding, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine. No guy, not even her last boyfriend, had ever said they couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“If you say no, I’ll respect that, but I’d like to see where things go between us.” His hands slid down her arms, and he took her hands.

Oh, man. Why did he have to sound so sincere? She’d been convinced that they would spend time together this weekend, and afterward, he’d jet off to wherever he went when he left town and it’d be another three years before she saw him again.

Now he made it sound as if he had other ideas in mind.

“You already know my two faults, so it’s not like you have to worry about uncovering some strange fetishes or anything.”

Gray had never taken himself too seriously, and it looked like that hadn’t changed.

“Your two faults? I’d say you have more than just two, Mr. I’m-Perfect.”

His forehead wrinkled. “No, I’m sure I only have two.” Gray took a step closer. “But we can spend time together and you can enlighten me on any others.”

One step closer and her breasts would touch his chest. The thought of which sent her pulse racing. Maybe she should take him up on his offer. They had known each other a long time and he’d never lied to her.

“Okay.” She made her decision before she second-guessed herself. “I’ll help you discover the rest of your faults.” Kiera closed the gap between them and kissed him.

She intended to give him a peck on the lips, but Gray had other ideas. Before she could step away, he locked his arms around her and pulled her against him, taking control of their kiss.

After awhile, he ended the kiss and Kiera sighed. Even though her eyes remained closed, Gray’s rapid breathing and the erection she left pressing against her told her he was affected by their kiss, too.

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Tuesday, August 18, 2015

#TeaserTuesday with Barbara Meyers


“I don’t know how much you know about how things are done here in Willow Bay. There’s a rather small, tightly knit group of individuals who basically scratch each other’s backs. They all sit on each other’s boards, attend each other’s golf tournaments and charitable balls. Write checks to each other’s causes. Most of the big events occur during the height of the season. Things like the Heart Ball, the Emerald Ball—”
“The Annual Garden Party, the Sunshine Festival.”
“Exactly.”
Niko didn’t bother to tell Lesley he’d worked both traffic and crowd control at some of those events.
Their meals arrived. Niko looked at his steak sandwich. It looked decidedly unmanageable with grilled onions, peppers and melted cheese spilling out from beneath the bun. He wondered if he was supposed to pick it up and eat it or leave it on the plate and use a knife and fork. Why was nothing simple here in the land of the rich and influential? He didn’t have money to blow on dry-cleaning his sports coat. He picked up his utensils and leaned toward Lesley. “You’re setting me up for something. Why don’t you cut to the chase?”
He sliced into the sandwich before realizing he didn’t need the knife. The steak was that tender.
“You’re very sharp, Mr. Morales. I need to remember that.” Lesley speared a bit of salad on the end of her fork.
Niko finished his first bite. “Isn’t that how business works? I wanted something from you. Now you want something from me. I’m not as sharp as you think, though, because I haven’t figured out what it is you want.”
“I’d like you to be my escort.”
Niko almost choked on his second bite. He managed to swallow it and drink some tea.
 “I’m sorry. Did you say escort? As in service? Sorry, Miss Robinson. I’m not for sale. If you’ll excuse me.”
He laid his napkin next to his plate and pushed his chair back. Lesley seized his wrist. “I didn’t say escort service. I said escort. As in dinner companion. Dance partner.” She glanced around the dining room. “Sit down,” she hissed. “People are staring.”
Niko resumed his seat and placed his napkin across his lap. He made no move to continue eating. Instead he simply stared at Lesley.
She leaned against the back of her chair and lifted her chin. “I am obligated to attend all of those events. It’s expected. It comes with the territory of being a member of my family. We are part of this community. My mother is involved in planning numerous events each year. I’m expected to be involved also, or to at least be a presence.” She glanced out the window. Niko thought he saw something sad and lonely flit across her features before she looked back at him.
A light bulb came on as what she was offering sank in. She’d introduce him to all her rich, influential friends who would donate money to the center, if he attended all those balls and parties with her. At least that’s what he thought she was getting at.






Twitter: @barbmeyers and @ajtillock