October 1, 2014

RLF Gem Award: Top Bloggers September 2014 Romance Lives Forever #RLFblog @BoroughsPubGrp

RLF Top Blogger Award 
Last month, Romance Lives Forever had 30 posts in a 30 day month.

The Top Blogger was the Boroughs Publishing Group.

Top Five Bloggers for the Month

(judged by page views). Congratulations to each one! Boroughs Publishing Group dominated the top four positions, so I'm listing them as number one, and then the next four authors.
  1. Boroughs Publishing Group
  2. Vicki Batman
  3. NJ Walters
  4. Madeleine Shade
  5. Anne Kane
Honorable mention: Erin McRae & Racheline Maltese (who appeared together) and Houston Havens.

Romance Lives Forever features authors and new books. It has a blogger's FAQ page with a downloadable guide and optional interviews. Readers can follow via Google+, Networked Blogs, Linky Followers, email, an RSS feed, and there's a blog button readers and authors can grab. RLF takes up to three images per article, so authors can share previous books. The blog uses author or publisher names as tags on posts, and author Twitter handles in the titles. The site is broadcast over Triberr with a potential reach of over a million readers via its Twitter-linked network. Twitter mentions are also gathered in several Paper.li ezines, giving the author additional opportunities for promotion. The Romance Lives Forever Paper.li ezine features guest authors on its front page every day.

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My thanks to all who took part this month. You made Romance Lives Forever a great place to discover new books and authors.

Other participants this month in alphabetical order by first name are: Adriana Kraft, Brita Addams, Cass Peterson, Coleen Kwan, Dariel Raye, Destiny Blaine, Heather Hiestand, JB Brooks, JoAnne Myers, K Vale, Keira Andrews, Kristy Tate, Nancy Corrigan, Richard Brawer, Te Russ, Zenobia Renquist

September 30, 2014

Kristy Tate: 6 Things I Learned In 16 Years @kristyswords #RLFblog #amwriting

Rescuing Rita 
Originally, it took me three years to write all 102,409 words of my novel The Rhyme's Library. Most of those were stupid words. The story has since had a major haircut and is now a trim 80 thousand and something novel, but it's still more verbose than it needs to be. I'm not saying that in the last sixteen years I've gone from stupidity to witty cleverness. Not at all. I'm still learning, and I've learned a few things and I want to share.
1. Use Grammarly—the best online editing program I've found, so much more than a spell check.
Here's an excerpt of my novella, Rescuing Rita, before Grammarly
Applause thundered through the hall, and Rita and swept into a deep bow. The lights flickered as she made her departure, heading for the sanctuary of her dressing room.
"Brilliant show tonight, Miss Ryan," called a boy carrying a food tray as they passed in the dimly lit hall.
"Thank you, Charlie. Can you be a love and bring me a pot of tea?"
"Sure thing. Sad this being your last show and all. I know everyone will miss you."
Rita flashed her smile and fought back a wave of fatigue and loneliness. "And I will miss all of you," she said, knowing there was one she missed more than all the others.
She blinked back the tears to which she had grown so accustomed; they returned every time she thought of Christian. She ached, wishing that Christian could be as predictable and ever-present as her tears. This wasn't how the story was supposed to end. She wasn't supposed to go to Europe by herself.
If only their last words had been more loving. Because she did love him; she knew that now. And yet in cruel spite of his absence, her love for his memory seemed only to grow rather than diminish. She sighed and pushed into her dressing room.
The Rhyme's Library
Her clothes lay scattered around the room, vying for a space in the large steamer trunk she would take to Paris. Flowers in vases crowded the dressing table and perfumed the air. She dropped her cape to the floor and slipped off her shoes.
All of her dreams had been realized. Yet she had learned weeks, if not months, earlier that dreams are hollow and meaningless without someone to share them. She would rather be riding in box car and sleeping on loose straw with Christian than boarding a steamer ship and sailing first class to Europe alone.
AFTER GRAMMARLY
Applause thundered through the hall, and Rita and swept into a deep bow. The lights flickered as she made her departure and headed for the sanctuary of her dressing room.
"Brilliant show tonight, Miss Ryan," called a boy carrying a food tray as they passed in the dimly lit hall.
"Thank you, Charlie. Can you be a love and bring me a pot of tea?"
"Sure thing. Sad this being your last show and all. I know everyone will miss you."
Rita flashed her smile and fought a wave of fatigue and loneliness. "And I will miss all of you," she said, knowing there was one she missed more than all the others.
She blinked back the tears to which she had grown so accustomed; they returned every time she thought of Christian. She ached, wishing that Christian could be as predictable and ever-present as her tears. This wasn't how the story was supposed to end. She wasn't supposed to go to Europe by herself.
If only their last words had been more loving. Because she did love him; she knew that now. Yet in cruel spite of his absence, her love for his memory seemed only to grow rather than diminish. She sighed and pushed into her dressing room.
Her clothes lay scattered around the room, vying for a space in the large steamer trunk she would take to Paris. Flowers in vases crowded the dressing table and perfumed the air. She dropped her cape to the floor and slipped off her shoes.
All of her dreams had been realized. Yet she had learned weeks, if not months, earlier that dreams are hollow and meaningless without someone to share them. She would rather ride in a box car and sleep on loose straw with Christian than boarding a steamer ship and sailing first class to Europe alone.
2. Use wordle. Don't know what wordle is? It's a website that creates word clouds out of any document—the more frequent the word usage, the bigger it appears in the cloud. This is an easy way to find your pet words. One of mine happens to be "look." He looked, she looked, everybody looked. Try it out at www.wordle.net/
3. Don't use words you don't typically use in conversation. I actually stopped reading Elizabeth Peters' novels because her frequent use of the word orb bothered me. Some words shouldn't be used more than once and some not at all. Same with phrases. I read a friend's novel where the lovers kept melting into each other. I'm not sure what that means, but it sounds messy and really shouldn't happen very often. If at all.
4. Watch out for passive sentences. The Rhyme's Library is riddled with them. Example: the word COULD. Claris COULD hear a soft voice in the background—versus--Claris heard a soft voice in the background. Another example: the word FELT. Claris ran a finger along Alec's glass of soda, and FELT the cold condensation wet her finger tips. Better-- Claris ran a finger along Alec's soda glass--the cold condensation wet her finger tips. Example: the word WAS. The trip to the morgue WAS a trip she COULD make alone--OR--She'd go to the morgue alone.
5. Evaluate criticism objectively. Since writing The Rhyme's Library, I've been told the same thing by two industry professionals—my plots are too complicated. The first to tell me this was an editor for a small romance publishing company; the second was a reviewer for Publisher's Weekly—the review was part of the "prize" for my placement in the Amazon Novel Breakthrough whatever. I live by the standard that I can swallow one critique with a sugar cube, but if someone else independently tells me the same thing I should probably take note. So, I'm reading my old manuscript and wondering--is this too complicated? Can I be less convoluted? Another thing I've been told by more than one writerly person is my work is "very British." Can you believe that two people who don't know each other would actually use the words "very British?" I don't even know what that means. Or what to do with it. Which brings me to number 6.
6. Love your work. It may have wrinkles, fat rolls, and zits, but ultimately, it is your story. It's your baby. Love it enough to cut away its rough edges. Coax it into simplicity. Shave off unsightly adverbs. Love it enough to leave it in a sixteen year time out. And if someone tells you your baby is very British tell them thank you very much and offer them a cuppa tea.
Kristy Tate 

About the Author

Kristy is the mom of six incredibly brilliant and beautiful children, and the author of several novels. Although many of her novels have won awards and have ranked on Amazon's top 100 list, Kristy has yet to realize her lifelong dream of owning a Schnauzer farm. Kristy studied English literature at Brigham Young University and at BYU's International Center in London.
For updates on Kristy's upcoming novels, please visit her blog at:kristystories.blogspot.com

Author Social Media

September 29, 2014

5 Easy Questions: Cass Peterson One Night in San Francisco @casspeterson1 #RLFblog #erotica

One Night in San Francisco 
5 Easy Questions is an interview is designed to be quick, easy, and fun. Today's guest is Cass Peterson.
What is your go-to meal to order when you dine out? Your favorite "I know it will hit the spot" item.
I try so hard to break away from this, but whenever I think a steak will be cooked properly, tender and very rare I have to go for that one. I know it's boring, but a perfect steak with chunky home-cut chips and a salad is just miraculous. And a bottle of good red wine too; steak's naked without it. Oh, and some French mustard on the side.
Would you rather stay inside and watch snow falling, or get out in it and build a snowman?
I'd be out there, wrapped up and getting soaking wet. Snow is my absolute favourite weather to play in.
What is your favorite quote?
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
If the hero of your latest book called you on the phone, what would be a perfect ringtone for him?
Blur - Tender is the Night. A creature of the night, throbbing and sensual, that's Liam.

About the Book

Title One Night in San Francisco
Genre Erotic romance
Author Name Cass Peterson
Book heat level (based on movie ratings): R
Blurb Nicky and Liam have only twenty four short hours to find out if their instantaneous attraction can develop into something more than an electric mile-high fumble. San Francisco has everything they need to put their previous disastrous relationships behind them but when they lose touch with each other almost immediately, fate seems to have other ideas. As the precious hours tick away, Liam moves heaven and earth to find the woman of his (filthiest) dreams before she leaves the city. Will he get to her in time?

Buy This Book

Tirgearr Publishing
No links yet, but they will be here when the book is released: http://casspeterson.co.uk/books/city-nights-one-night-in-san-francisco/

Author Social Media

Amazon Author Page http://www.amazon.com/Cass-Peterson/e/B00E39TNNY/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_7

September 28, 2014

Character Sketch: Chandra from Phantom Desire by Houston Havens @HoustonHavens #RLFblog #PNR

Phantom Desire 
About the Book

Title: Phantom Desire (Psychic Menage #2)
Genre: Erotic Romance, Ménage (MFMM), Paranormal, Fantasy, Futuristic, Suspense, Dystopian, Post-Apocalyptic, Sci-Fi, Light BDSM, and Psychics.
Author: Houston Havens
Book heat level (based on movie ratings): R
Mind traveler Chandra Lamar is on the run, not only from her post-catastrophic dystopian government but from a past she can't remember. A psychic vision pushes her to recall her purpose for being, but it's a ghost that awakens her desires for a life she fears she'll never have. Both push her to remember the past because it threatens what she wants in the now; the Nodin men.
Andonis Nodin battles to accept his failures. The heavy burden nearly breaks him when he can't save a loved one from the grim reaper's grip and questions his desire for Chandra, the woman he blames for the death around him.
Nikias finds true love with Chandra in his arms, but is desperate to stop her from seeking revenge on a mission he knows is a one way trip.
Ortello knows for them to recapture the love they once felt for each other, he must be willing to let her go. But overcoming his obsession to make Chandra his and his alone isn't easy.
Will Chandra go through with the vengeance in her heart or give it up for love? Who is the powerful woman in her haunting visions and will those revealing apparitions crumble her world with the Nodin clan? Does Chandra find true love in the arms of the Nodin men or does her Phantom Desire forever own her heart?  

Buy This Book

Amazon Print http://bit.ly/PDPrint

About the Character

Name: Chandra Lamar
Age: 20's
Gender: female
Birthplace: Unknown
Profession: Mind Traveler – psychic spy
Ethnicity/Species (if not human): Human with suspicions she might be a Fae.
Describe her body build, skin tone, height and weight. Include any unique features such as dimples, freckles, or scars:
She's a sexy, vivacious 6'3" woman with some padding (a Marilyn Monroe or Anna Nicole Smith body type). She's in tip-top shape because she's an active field spy on 50% of her mind travel cases.
Who is the significant other in your character's life? Chandra has three men she's in love with ~ the Nodin Clan, Ortello, Andonis, and Nikias. Each man brings something different to her life and her growth.
What special skills does your character rely on?
Chandra is a Mind Traveler who can see what is happening in any dimension, on any physical or mental level. She can project her "viewing" to see future, past, or present events happening. She can send her sight deep into the bowels of the Earth to read buried scrolls or visit Mars or another galaxy if she desires.
If someone from your character's past showed up, who would she most want it to be, and why? OR who would she most NOT want it to be, and why?
Chandra would want her mother to show up. She grew up in a Runner's street orphanage. She doesn't know her past and would like to know her mother and her history.
Can your heroine keep a secret? If not, why not? If yes, why?
Chandra is a spy and very good at keeping secrets. Her life and other lives depend on her keeping secrets.
What inner doubt causes your character the most difficulty?
Chandra has concerns about her obsession to protect her best friend Fay, whom she sees as her only family. They grew up in the orphanage together. But she can see this obsession has led her own life down a path she wouldn't have taken. She doesn't understand her drive to protect Fay even when it means putting her own life in danger.
If your character could make any one thing happen, what would it be?
Chandra would bring back her Phantom Desire.
What is your heroine's biggest personal flaw?
Being too loyal...read Phantom Desire and see where it gets her.
What is your heroine's breaking point?
The death of someone she loved dearly.
Who in her life has the power to hurt this character the most? Why?
The sage-violet eyed woman who keeps haunting her dreams...or are they dreams?

About Your Writer: Questions for your character to answer about you.

Why do you think your writer chose to write about you?
Ms. Havens originally wrote a book called Sinful Surrender about my best friend, Fay Avalon. It would only be natural she'd write a book about Fay's only family member, even if we're not blood related family. We're all we have; each other.
What do you wish your writer had not told others about you?
I was surprised she picked me. I mean there are so many others far more intriguing than me. I'm a very private person by nature and lifestyle. My life isn't really that interesting. Now, if you'd asked me I would have assumed Ms. Havens would have picked Talpidae...its come to my attention, he's been living a double life...but he won't be living it for long with all the double-crossing he's been up to.
Why do you think your writer loves to write?
Have you read Ms. Haven's bio? OMG, that woman's lived quiet a life. She traveled the world before its demise, back before the Trasdamian predictions of the world's end came true. Back when the world's surface was filled with humans. Back when Love was free. Honor was the norm, and life was…sweet to live.
As she aged, she saw the world changing…she was one who saw the beginning of the end. She saw the evil that lurked behind the beautiful surface that became my world. With that much going on in the world and her life...her head had to be filled with stories to tell until the end of time. I think that's why she writes. To see and know that much, she'd have to write it out just the keep her mind.
What do you wish your writer would write next?
I wish she'd write me a perfect world without war and help me unravel my past.
Is there anything you'd like to say to your writer?
I'll let her reviewers speak for me. This is what a few said about the book she did on me:

Author Bio

Houston Havens retired from a successful modeling career and an adventurous jet-set lifestyle to set the world on fire with her erotic romance books. A tenacious Irish lass, she strives to entertain with seductive stories created from her decadent imagination and traces of a provocative lifestyle she may or may not admit to.
Her interest in the paranormal, fascination with quantum science, passion with myths, and the lure of her mysterious Celtic Irish-Druid bloodlines are combined with generally unknown truths, strange facts, and questionable fiction. Her novels reflect a mix of the past, present, and future, with sexy blends of futuristic science fiction, paranormal fantasy, western romance, and always love everlasting. An author of six romances, a seven book erotic romance series and numerous articles in literary magazines.

Author Social Media


September 27, 2014

Publisher Week: Day 7 Romance and True Love @BoroughsPubGrp #RLFblog #amreading

Boroughs Publishing 
This is Day 7 of Publisher Week featuring Boroughs Publishing Group. For the last week, Romance Lives Forever has showcased this publisher and its authors.
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Publisher's Week – Boroughs Publishing Group
Yesterday we visited new worlds and alternate realities, where everything is at risk for the ultimate prize - true love. Today, on our last day *sigh* of our Publisher's Week, we are going to tug at your heartstrings. Yep, no Romance is complete without having to dab at a few tears.

Unwanted Vows

To safely raise her daughter, Samantha Hollister must join wounded U.S. Army veteran
Morgan Lawrence in rediscovering an old love that never truly disappeared.
Morgan released the safety on the gun and pointed it at the floor.
Vandalism on a construction site was nothing unusual.
But this kid won dumbest delinquent of the century—having his lights on, no stealth at all, just tromping around making enough noise to raise the dead.
Morgan could give him a few lessons.
"Now," he started. And the kid turned and ran for the door. "Fuck."
Morgan was fast even with only one leg, and he leapt and brought the intruder down. He thumped the kid against the floor once, which made him moan. Morgan lifted him by the scruff of his dark hoodie and set him on the straight-backed rocking chair in the corner. Skinny kid, taller than he'd thought.
With his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness, he frowned.
That face.
"Look. I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone was here."
Holy Mother. The voice was female and as familiar as his own. Samantha Hollister sat in front of him, stark fear in her shadowed eyes.
Years of friendship came flooding back. Days at the creek. Afternoons with the whole gang, eating Mrs. Hollister's cookies on this very porch. Working together in the afternoons, and her sweet young body, his for one summer before…
He shook off the memory of her touch even as his body responded to it. The good was so easily followed by the bad and a burst of anger dammed the flood of memories. "Why the hell did you run? First lesson in breaking and entering, never run. Jesus, I could have shot you, Samantha."
He wouldn't have…but he could have.
Morgan hopped over to his bed and sat. With jerky movements, he disengaged his .45 and locked the safety. The gun went back up on the windowsill above his cot, and he reached under the bed for his leg and strapped it on below his knee. "Nothing to say now, eh?"
"Are you going to tie me up?" Her voice shook.
He couldn't quite see her in the dark. "Tie you up?" He shook his head… then thought about tying her up. He cleared his throat. "What the F? Why would I tie you up?"
She paused, and the quiet caught his attention before she blew out a breath. She'd be licking her lips, a nervous habit he remembered well. "Oh, um. Just…the sound of Velcro. I thought. I wasn't sure. Maybe you were going to call the police and wanted to restrain me until they got here."
But he was caught up in the memory of her lips. He remembered a lot of things about Samantha. And the resentment he'd buried years ago rose from its perfectly happy resting place.

Meeting Miss Mystic

Both emotionally and physically scarred from an accident, Zoe Flannigan must take a journey to meet Paul Johansson—and to discover a love as beautiful and boundless as the wide Montana sky.
Zoë got up and padded to the kitchen, the phone still attached to her aching, tender ear after two solid hours of talking to Paul. The clock on her microwave read 12:05 a.m. She opened the fridge and took out a bottle of white wine, pouring herself a small glass.
"It's after midnight here," she said. "I'm having a glass of wine."
"You pour yourself a glass. I've drunk a whole pitcher of tea in the past two hours, so I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"
"Yeah, of course," she said smiling. She felt her cheeks flush as her thoughts swiftly moved…there. He was going to the bathroom. He was going to open his pants and pull out his—
Zoë swallowed a big gulp of wine, wishing she could divert her thoughts. Instead her mind insisted on its present course, subtly changing the dynamics of the fantasy to include her sitting on the edge of his bed as he unbuttoned, then unzipped his pants, pulling them down and off his bare feet until he was just wearing boxers in front of her. She'd lean forward and hook her thumbs into the waistband of the shorts, pulling them down slowly so she could—
"Holly?"
"Huh? Yes! I—I mean, yeah, um, I'm here."
"You okay?"
"Mm-hm."
"Tired?"
Turned on.
"A little," she sighed, placing her half-finished wine glass on the coffee table and lying back on her couch, switching ears. "I lit candles in my living room an hour ago so the light's soft and warm in here…and I don't have air conditioning, but I opened the windows and there's a breeze tonight. The air's still misty from the rain earlier and it makes the smell of the sea even stronger. You know that brackish, tangy, salt water smell?"
"Mmm," he murmured. "I know it well."
"It's heavy tonight. Thick," she whispered.
"Holly." He said her name softly.

Better as a Memory

Atlanta image consultant Victoria Sharpe is about to give a makeover to the man who broke her heart in college, and a do-over to a love that always should have been.
Go the hell away.
Maybe if he just ignored the pounding on the door it would stop. And maybe ignoring the pounding in his head would make that disappear, too.
Max let hot water sluice over him as he leaned against the wall of the too-small shower stall. He had kissed her, damn it. Breathed heavy in her ear and played grab-ass like a randy teenager. She had handled the situation with far more aplomb than he deserved and had made a polite exit. Instead of reminding him of their purely business relationship, she should have kneed him right in his uncooperative groin.
Now Max was engaging in a game of regrets. He had few regrets in life, but two of them were staring him right in the face. First was his refusal of his mother's offer to let him live in the guest apartment over their garage. The living area alone exceeded the square footage of his entire studio apartment. He'd managed on his own since he'd dropped out of college, so why not continue standing on his own two feet?
The second regret was having that third—or was it the fourth?—glass of Scotch the previous night. At midnight, the Scotch might have been able to drown out the memory of Victoria's body against him, but now he was paying dearly for trying to run away from the truth that she still wielded incredible power over him, though she was clueless that she did.
When the water finally began to run cold, Max twisted the faucet handle to the off position and stepped out to let the cool morning air jolt him awake. Even in an alcohol-induced haze, he'd had trouble sleeping. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her alarmed expression when he'd had her backed up against the wall. Every time he closed his eyes, he could also swear he smelled the fresh, floral fragrance she wore and feel her body against him, soft, warm and willing. When sleep finally came about six a.m., the alarm clock abruptly interrupted it two hours later.

On behalf of everyone at Boroughs Publishing Group, THANK YOU, Kayelle for a fabulous week!

Submissions

Are you an author? Fantastic. We adore authors. We're seeking submissions from writers who can deliver the emotional punch readers crave. Space cowboys, gargoyles, the hunk next-door and crusty cops welcome. Boroughs Publishing Group will not limit your imagination; we encourage creative freedom. Stick to the tropes of the genre or push the envelope, as long as you're providing well written incredible story-telling we're game. Read more: http://www.boroughspublishinggroup.com/submit

Publisher Social Media



September 26, 2014

Publisher Week: Day 6 Alternate Realities @BoroughsPubGrp #RLFblog #Fantasy

Boroughs Publishing 
This is Day 6 of Publisher Week featuring Boroughs Publishing Group. Romance Lives Forever has been showcasing this publisher and its authors.
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Publisher's Week – Boroughs Publishing Group
Yesterday we visited with those yummy shape-shifting weres of the Red Ridge Pack. Today we take a journey into fantasy, where, in new worlds and alternate realities, everything is at risk for the ultimate prize - true love.

Awake

After losing her family to a tornado, the only thing that can help guilt-ridden Eve Cleary find peace is a nightmare come to life: a dangerous incubus whose masterful caresses have the power to grant her deepest desires.
The sirens stopped soon after the last roar of thunder ended, but he made no move to release her. The clouds were lifting, and there was more light in the basement now, courtesy of the open door upstairs. Eve could see that his skin was not exactly flesh-colored. It bore a silver haze. And his eyes, in that moment, looked violet instead of red.
She looked up into his face. He stared back at her, just as intently. He had rescued her. He was the reason her nightmares hadn't returned. And whatever he was, she was inexplicably drawn to him. Without thought or reason, she leaned up and lightly touched her lips to his.
It wasn't meant as an act of passion, but of gratitude. And relief. His lips were so warm and soft that she kissed him again. This time, his lips seemed to mold against hers, and the way his arms held her changed. Cupping her head with one hand, he gently placed her on the floor; his free hand began gliding up her body. He groaned at her wet clothes, but delighted her by teasing her taut nipples through the wet material.
Then it was too much—the storm, the stranger, the flashes of past horror. Eve was suddenly overwhelmed in a different way. She broke the kiss and sat up to face him. He backed away from her, stepping out of the light.
"Who are you?" What are you?
"My name is Victor," he growled.
And a word filled her mind, as if her other, unspoken, question had been answered. But it was a frightening word that only existed in fairytales. And nightmares.
Or did it?

The Pirate Princess

For a pirate, nothing is forbidden...except love. To gain her freedom, Charlee must seduce
the prince. To save the pirate, Prince Petra must win her heart.
"I'll race you there."
Charlee's mind spun in a whirl. She'd never been one to resist a challenge, which Petra well knew. She'd also never been one to play fair.
She softly took his hand and allowed him to pull her up. As soon as he released her, she leaned toward him. His eyes widened and filled with desire. She let a playful smile touch her lips and licked the bottom one with her tongue. Petra sucked in a breath, but before he could make a move, she shoved him back in the sand and took off running as fast as she could, more laughter spilling from her lips—laughter conspicuously sounding like giggles.
She reached the west side of the pool at nearly the same time Petra crested the cliff of the falls. That sneaky prince had found an alternate route.
Their eyes met and locked. She took one step into the water as he dove from the cliff. Her breath caught in her throat. She froze for several heartbeats, the ripples from his splash washing over her toes. Then, out of nowhere, a strong arm rose in front of her, grabbed her leg and pulled her in. She screamed and tried to pull away.
He surfaced in front of her, his arms securely wrapped around her waist. She tried to push and wiggle free, but his arms locked around her more tightly. She tried to splash him, slap him and even butt him with her head, but he captured her hands. Their eyes met unguarded and full of passion. His warm body pressed against hers….

The Devil and Lillian Holmes

At the cusp of the twentieth century, an heiress-turned-vampire and her maker seek her stolen daughter and find themselves caught up in a world of darkness, danger, and mystery.
Lillian knew she was being bull-headed, but she couldn't stop herself. She took a deep breath to steady her hands as she pried at a screw. A bit of medicine would be welcome now as a finger of anxiety coiled in her stomach. "Why should you worry about aging men with time on their hands? What can they mean to us?"
George folded the letter and tapped it against his hand as he stared out the window. He looked over his shoulder after a moment and said, "You think us invincible? Your Mr. Doyle is unlikely as simple as most in this city. Leave him be, Lil. Promise me."
Lillian thought of her fantasy Uncle Sherlock. She had so little of her former self left. "I will not give up on my investigations!"
"No, of course not. You simply must be more careful. You are not to see Mr. Doyle, ever. Am I clear?"
His tone slapped her. He'd not chastised her once since she met him, since she'd seen him leaping from her neighbor's balcony, since the moment she began to love him. But now…
"You are quite clear, sir."

We cherish the wonderful creative minds that built these new worlds, brought determined tangible characters to life and drew us in to a universe we wanted to stay in for a very long time.
Tomorrow, on our last day during our Publisher's Week with Romance Lives Forever - thank you, Kayelle - we're going to tug on your heartstrings.

Submissions

Are you an author? Fantastic. We adore authors. We're seeking submissions from writers who can deliver the emotional punch readers crave. Space cowboys, gargoyles, the hunk next-door and crusty cops welcome. Boroughs Publishing Group will not limit your imagination; we encourage creative freedom. Stick to the tropes of the genre or push the envelope, as long as you're providing well written incredible story-telling we're game. Read more: http://www.boroughspublishinggroup.com/submit

Publisher Social Media



September 25, 2014

Publisher Week: Day 5 Shifters, Packs and Wolves @BoroughsPubGrp #RLFblog #PNR

This is Day 5 of Publisher Week featuring Boroughs Publishing Group. For the next few
Boroughs Publishing 
days, Romance Lives Forever will showcase this publisher and its authors.
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Publisher's Week – Boroughs Publishing Group
Yesterday we visited with Susan Mac Nicol's sexy heartbreaking hunks. Today we're going to Red Ridge, New Mexico to see if the Pack has any chance of survival. Be brave and remember to stay close to the yummy were at your back.

Pack of Lies - Book 1

The last thing Allison Wright ever expected when she moved to Red Ridge, New Mexico was to come muzzle to muzzle with the wolf of her dreams.
In the near distance, I heard a rustling in the brush, which ceased the mission that had held me spellbound. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked around, spooked by what I might find, but what I saw was the last thing I expected.
Peering out from behind a tall oak, a wolf was watching me. We just stood still, staring at each other, neither of us moving a muscle. His amazing green eyes were in sharp contrast to his deep, dark fur. He was a much bigger wolf than me, strong and lean, and the glint in his eyes told me that he was no ordinary wolf.
I gathered up the courage to take one single step toward him and was surprised when he did the same. We continued this dance. I took a step, then he took a step, until we met in the middle near the edge of the lake. We stood with our noses only inches apart, just looking into each other's eyes. I couldn't stop myself from drinking in the intoxicating scent that he exuded. Somehow I knew that he was doing the same.
He took one more step forward making our noses tap together gently. If it was possible to smile in wolf form, I would have, and without the use of words, I was left with only one option. And I couldn't resist. Nuzzling his neck with my face felt like the right response. The need to touch him was so strong, but once I did it, I immediately felt self-conscious and backed away. He again took a step toward me and returned the affection.

Web of Lies - Book 3

In the midst of a struggle for control of his pack, eighteen-year-old werewolf enforcer-to-be Luke Stanton meets the one girl who will destroy everything…or complete him.
"Holy shit, bro! Look who is coming your way," Gage said.
I looked over, and my jaw literally dropped. Scarlett was walking toward me. Damn! The girl was built for sin. She was wearing these killer boots over the tightest fucking jeans I have ever seen, and it only got better from there. Her coat fit tightly against her body and was zipped up halfway, exposing the most perfect cleavage I have ever seen. My mouth starting watering from just the sight of her tits crammed into that tiny jacket. My hands twitched at the thought of freeing those puppies from the lace of that bra peeking out from under that sweater.
I barely heard Gage say, "Have fun with that," before he and Ryder took off. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the gorgeous girl headed straight for me.
"Hey Luke, I didn't mean to run your friends off," she said hugging me, pressing her entire body flush against mine.
Shit, those things were now pushed firmly against my chest, making her perfect cleavage bulge even more. I took a quick peek down and tried to hide the fact that I was deeply affected by them. Her tits weren't the only thing bulging at the moment. When her scent hit my nose, I was suddenly in desperate need of a cold shower. Breathing in a mixture of honeysuckle, roses, and perfection, I had to pull away before I led her out into the woods and took care of business. Completely caught up in all that was Scarlett Reed, I couldn't remember what she had said.

End of Lies - Book 4

With the return of the devious Kendall Stuart, the Red Ridge Pack must depend on Cami Moore to save them, and Cami Moore must decide if she can trust—and perhaps even love—the hunky Gavin Reed of Crescent Hills.
Cami was sleeping so soundly that it killed me to have to wake her up. I didn't realize that she could be any more beautiful, but I was wrong. Asleep, her face was not just stunning, it was angelic. The tempting red lip gloss was long gone from her lips, but the swollen, sleepy, natural look nearly brought me to my knees. I would have given my left nut to be able to crawl into that bed and wrap her long, sexy legs around me, but if I did, she would probably tear my right nut off with her bare hands. Maybe I could live without one nut, but definitely not both.
Hell, it might have been worth it. I'd never been more tempted.
As if she sensed me watching her, her eyes shot open, and her icy glare landed on me. "What the fuck are you doing out of the safe room? Are you freakin' deaf or just really that stupid?" Cami yelled as she sat up and clutched her covers up to neck. I jumped back from the venom in her voice. I hate to admit, but I was a little scared to open my mouth and say anything. I knew how bad this looked, me standing over her watching her sleep. Now, she probably thought I was a Chester for sure. I had to tell her though. "I just got a call…"
That certainly got her attention. She was out of the bed and standing right in front of me in less than a second. With her hands on her tiny hips, she snapped, "And?"
Man this girl was something else. "It was Scarlett. They are all safe, and they're staying in some motel outside Red Ridge."
"That's great news," she said and then frowned. "Why don't you seem happy about that?"
I didn't want to tell her the rest. I didn't even want to think about it. It was just too humiliating to admit that your own father, the man that raised you, could do something so heinous, but she deserved to hear the truth. She was risking her own life and the lives of her family by hiding me here. The least I could do was tell her everything I knew.
"Cami, it was my…" I started but was silenced by the ringing of the doorbell.
Cami and I both looked at each other like we had been caught doing something naughty. Without making a sound, Cami wildly motioned for me to get back into the safe room. I ran out of her room with her right behind me and down the stairs. As soon as I was inside the safe room, Cami motioned for me to be quiet and locked me inside.
Oh, what a tangled web we weave... from the first book to the last, the intrigue, the danger and the romance makes you want to read each story all over again.
In keeping with alternate realities, tomorrow we let fantasy take us to a better place.

Submissions

Are you an author? Fantastic. We adore authors. We're seeking submissions from writers who can deliver the emotional punch readers crave. Space cowboys, gargoyles, the hunk next-door and crusty cops welcome. Boroughs Publishing Group will not limit your imagination; we encourage creative freedom. Stick to the tropes of the genre or push the envelope, as long as you're providing well written incredible story-telling we're game. Read more: http://www.boroughspublishinggroup.com/submit

Publisher Social Media


September 24, 2014

Publisher Week: Day 4 Male Male Romance @BoroughsPubGrp #RLFblog #mm #lgbt @SusanMacNicol7

Boroughs Publishing 
This is Day 4 of Publisher Week featuring Boroughs Publishing Group. For the next few days, Romance Lives Forever will showcase this publisher and its authors.
---
Publisher's Week – Boroughs Publishing Group
Yesterday we visited with the bad boys of yesteryear, the Lords of Regency. Pretty much, the only thing they have in common with Susan Mac Nicol's heartbreaking hunks is the United Kingdom. Ready to meet tortured souls, dark deeds and the sexiest Male/Male Romances around? Warning - once you have a taste, you'll be insatiable...

Love & Punishment

On the search for a serial killer, Detective Anthony Parglietto and Flynn Parker learn that every man must make a choice: to kill, to live, to love.
Anthony waved his expressive hands in agitation. "Christ, you didn't think I was going to let you have no protection, did you? This is the goddamn Bow Tie Killer we're talking about here, not some petty criminal. This is a man who's already murdered two people and could have easily made it a third. He took you from me and that's not going to happen again, by God."
His body trembled with suppressed violence and Flynn knew better than to argue with him when his Latin blood was up. He sighed heavily.
Anthony's voice was firm when he next spoke. "Then tomorrow you're coming to stay with me for a while. My place has better security than yours."

Double Alchemy: Climax

Powerful modern warlock Quinn Fairmont found ecstasy with the silver-eyed and not-quite-
human Cade Mairston, but to know true happiness the pair must best both the shadow of a long-ago lover and an ancient enemy who seeks to destroy love, light and all they hold dear.
Quinn's eyes flashed violently at his uncle. "I am not fucking losing him to the depths of a bloody Hampstead Heath pond."
He knelt down beside Cade again, closing his eyes as he tried once more to heal, but the wound just kept seeping blood, now at a much slower rate than before. Cade's face was ash white, his dark hair standing out starkly against the deathly pallor of his face.
Quinn. Your Cade is nearly gone. You have to put him in the water now before it is too late. There is no time for your modern medicine. He will not survive unless you do it now. The Water Sprites will take him and heal him as long as there is still a spark of life left in him.
"I can't. Don't ask me to do that. I can't." Quinn's voice was strangled as he struggled to compose himself. His body was cold, his mind sluggish and he had never felt so desperate.
Daniel strode forward and despite his small and wiry frame, he picked Cade up in his arms. He looked at Quinn, his voice resolute. "He's dying. This may be the only way to save him."
Quinn growled and reached out with a hand to hold him back. Daniel sidestepped him and looked at him with a resolute expression. "You can hurt me if you want but it won't help Cade. This is all we have left to try before he dies."
Quinn's hand still gripped him tightly and the older man winced.
"If anyone is going to do this, it's going to be me." Quinn's voice cracked and he held out his arms. Wordlessly, Daniel placed Cade in Quinn's outstretched arms and Quinn pulled his lover closer to his body. He walked down to the water's edge and waded in as Daniel watched helplessly from the bank, his face stark. Quinn gently laid Cade down in the water. He seemed to float for a while, hair spreading about in the water like black smoke. His face was still, eyes closed as Quinn held tightly onto his cold hand, rubbing his thumb over the engagement ring. Quinn's vision blurred as tears filled his eyes.
You need to let Cade go. Let him join his kind below the water. Trust me.
Taliesin's voice was soft, compassionate. Quinn heaved a shuddering sigh as Daniel joined him in the water, laying a comforting arm on his.
"I can't—" Quinn shook his head in grief, his heart breaking.
His uncle took hold of his shoulders, firmly holding him back. "There's no other way, son. Let him go."
Quinn relinquished his grip on Cade's hand, standing there as he heard a soft splash and saw the water rippling around them. As they watched, two sets of pale hands emerged out of the water, and slowly, lovingly, Cade was dragged gently beneath the dark waters of the pond. Quinn saw the hand with his ring on it slowly disappear under the water. It was the last glimpse he had of the man he loved.

Saving Alexander

Punishing himself for a horrific past that is not his fault, bestselling author Alexander Montgomery seeks redemption and love—and perhaps he will find it.
"Alex, it's Sage. You fell asleep."
Alex stared at him as his eyes focused. He passed a trembling hand across his face. "I fell asleep? What time is it?"
"It's seven thirty. Everyone's gone home already. I was just getting ready to lock up and saw the light still on. You need to go home. You don't look well."
Sage reached out a gentle hand to help him up, but Alex knocked it away. "Leave me alone! Just stop it, will you? I keep fucking telling you I'm fine." He spat the words.
"Jesus, Alex! What the fuck is wrong with you? You pass out on your desk, you push everyone away and you act like a bloody drama queen. What bug have you got up your arse that you can't accept someone's help?"
"I don't need help—especially from you, Christopher Sage, so just leave me the hell alone."
But Alex's voice quavered and he bit his lip, and Sage's anger dissipated. He knelt down beside the man. "Alex. Talk to me, please. Tell me what's wrong." He hesitated. He wasn't sure whether he should mention what he'd seen, a bit afraid of being branded a pervert or incurring a sexual harassment charge. But he wasn't the sort to hold his counsel. His mother always said that the phrase "Curiosity killed the cat" was tailor-made for him, even as a boy.
"I saw the marks on your back. Your shirt was up and I saw the bruising and the swelling. Who did that to you?"
Alex stared at him with such fear and desolation that Sage's heart finally broke.
"Is someone hurting you?" he asked. "Is that why you're so defensive? Why you don't let anyone close?"
When Alex spoke, his voice was that of a broken man. Small. Pitiful. "Just let it go, Sage. Please, just let it go. Don't make me tell you."
We've heard it's not nice to tease - we don't agree.
Tomorrow we're shifting - well, our yummy weres of the Red Ridge Pack are shifting as the series comes to its terrifying climax.

Submissions

Are you an author? Fantastic. We adore authors. We're seeking submissions from writers who can deliver the emotional punch readers crave. Space cowboys, gargoyles, the hunk next-door and crusty cops welcome. Boroughs Publishing Group will not limit your imagination; we encourage creative freedom. Stick to the tropes of the genre or push the envelope, as long as you're providing well written incredible story-telling we're game. Read more: http://www.boroughspublishinggroup.com/submit

Publisher Social Media

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/boroughspubgrp/

September 23, 2014

Publisher Week: Day The Lords of Regency @BoroughsPubGrp #RLFblog #amreading

Boroughs Publishing 
This is Day 3 of Publisher Week featuring Boroughs Publishing Group. For the next few days, Romance Lives Forever will showcase this publisher and its authors.
---
Publisher's Week – Boroughs Publishing Group
Yesterday we visited with our 'Naughty Boys' and let's be honest, wouldn't we all like to take a crack at breaking their shells? Today we're visiting with the bad boys of yesteryear, the Lords of Regency – Rakes, Rogues, Scoundrels and Libertines. Good breeding cannot disguise their wicked ways, but under all that bluster beats the heart of a man yearning to be ensconced in the arms of that certain woman - and it is she who will whisk him away to rusticate happily in the country.

A Spy's Honor

Embroiled in a scheme to catch an assassin, Lady Claire Talbot will soon learn all that His Majesty's spy Lord John Reyburn has to hide—and all that his heart is dying to reveal.
He studied her profile as she concentrated on her embroidery. Her coffee-colored tresses were piled on top of her head, a few tendrils slipping down the golden skin of her neck to her full, rising breasts. Her dark lashes swept down intermittently, shading those soulful brown eyes.
At one time, Claire's every emotion had seemed to show on her face. John couldn't read her now. Seeing her again, though, he knew he still wanted her. Wanted her physically, yes, and more than that. He wanted to be part of her life if she'd have him. Wanted to fulfill the promise that had been cut short all those years ago.
He bent at the knees and uttered her name again, wanting her to look at him, wanting her to see how he had never forgotten her, to see what he'd become for her.
She looked away, her brown eyes blazing. "Perhaps I was a little infatuated. Certainly I was caught up in the danger of the moment, and how could I have been anything but grateful for the heroic assistance you offered in keeping me out of that awful man's clutches? Thank goodness my maturity and current circumstances now allow me to see that any emotion I felt at the time wasn't about you but the adventure we were sharing."
With intense effort John kept from wincing, and before he could even think Claire's gaze refocused over his shoulder. Someone else had entered the room.
A smile broke upon her face.
"I beg your pardon."
The voice behind John was deep, slightly mistrustful, and did not belong to his brother.
He tore his eyes away from the pretty vision of Claire and rose to greet the man who sauntered into the room, young, blond and absurdly muscular, like a Viking warlord trapped in a finely-tailored coat, striped waistcoat, and fawn trousers.
"I don't believe we are acquainted," the man said.
Claire sat, speechless, her smile now a bit dazed. The Norse god-like creature sidled nearer to her in a presumptuous sort of way. A chill ran down John's spine.
"No," he replied, "we are not acquainted." He swept a glance over the man, who was definitely brawnier than John but of the same height, gave a decent bow, and said, "Lord John Reyburn."
The man's stiffened posture eased as he returned the bow. "Of course. The duke's mysterious brother. My pleasure."

Mercy

The youngest of six sisters, Mercy Ackerly has known since thirteen what everyone else is about to learn: She'll marry the elusive Duke of Blackthorne.
On the dance floor, blissfully unaware that they were being scrutinized and discussed in at least two areas of the ballroom, Mercy and Sebastian danced silently. The half-smile remained on Sebastian's face while Mercy frantically dug through her brain for the hundreds of interesting facts she'd memorized in order to keep their conversations engaging and easy and fresh. Nothing surfaced, so she finally just blurted, "You are a matador without a bull, Your Grace."
His smiled widened. "It seemed inappropriate to bring one."
Mercy colored hotly in sublime embarrassment. "I can't believe I just said that."
The blush chased away the chill of the polite young woman she had become and brought back the laughing young girl he'd once known. "That is a circumstance with which I am entirely unfamiliar where you're concerned, Miss Ackerly."
She wrinkled her nose. "It sounds so strange to hear you refer to me as Miss Ackerly. I keep feeling as though I should look around to find Patience."
"It feels even stranger to actually say it," Sebastian agreed. "But you've grown up now, haven't you?"
Mercy nodded. They were the words she'd always wanted to hear from him, this acknowledgment that she was no longer a child, but they gave her an odd bereft feeling, as though something had irrevocably changed between them, an intangible something that had slipped right through her fingers and which she could never get back.
"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, urchin?"
His voice, so familiar, washed over her, deep and resonant and comforting, and Mercy smiled up at him. "Why do you call me that?"
He smiled back. "Because you were dressed like a boy in oversized and often mended clothes when we first met, and you reminded me of one of the street urchins who lived around my childhood home."
It was an uncommon glimpse into Sebastian's past, and Mercy felt warmth spread outward from her heart. She wanted to ask him a million questions about how he'd grown up, but instead just answered his question. "When I was a girl, I wanted to grow up so quickly, and it seemed as though it was taking forever." Her voice softened. "But now that I have, I find miss being that girl."
Sebastian's heart lurched a little at her wistful tone, and he sought to banish any sadness. "You mean you miss your threadbare breeches?" He was rewarded by her soft laugh. "There's no reason to miss those days. Just don't completely lose that girl." He caught her eyes with his. "I've always been rather fond of her, you see."

Face to Face

A masquerade, a chance meeting, and a kidnapping: Little did Miss Penelope Ashurst realize that breaking the rules would result in the adventure—and love—of a lifetime.
Ranulph was about to give Nigel his "you'd better not cause too much trouble, or else" look when he saw her, a veritable goddess in soft violet silk. He heard his brother bid farewell for the evening, but suddenly he did not care.
Standing not ten feet in front of him was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
Her elegant costume was draped about her form, emphasizing her womanly curves. She was neither too petite nor too tall. Her hair, pinned with small crepe roses sporadically adorning the soft tendrils, cascaded down her delicate neck. He watched her smile at the antics of a pair of dominoes who had disrupted the dance with their own version of a waltz. Even though the mask covered most of her face, it could not hide her sweet dimples peeking through.
She did not belong here, any more than he. Curious to know who she was, he pushed his way through the boisterous crowd. He meant to speak to her. However, when he reached her side, for the first time in his life, he strug
gled for words. Ranulph cleared his throat and stuttered, "May…I have the…" he swallowed hard before getting the rest of the words out, "pleasure of this waltz?"
Good lord, he was acting like a schoolboy attempting his first conquest. No woman had ever discomposed him so. Ranulph leaned in, waiting in agony. The seconds drew out in anticipation of her response.
Lowering her eyes, he thought she would refuse him. But when she glanced up at him with a mixture of uncertainty and excitement, her green eyes twinkled with delight. She did not speak, just nodded her acceptance, extending her gloved hand. The moment Ranulph took her hand, his pulse raced and a jolt careened through his body.
The music began, and he guided her with ease through the flowing, melodious sound. Her body was made to fit against his. Ranulph wondered if his goddess felt the same.
"You are a graceful dancer." He hoped his compliment would coax words from her delectable mouth. He wanted to know who she was and why she was here.
Her eyelids fluttered lower with a sweet shyness. "Thank you."
Ranulph knew without a doubt his initial thought was correct. This goddess was not meant to be here. The trouble was, it would appear that his little goddess was not one for conversation. "And who are you pretending to be this evening?" That question earned him a direct look. He noticed her eyes were not just green, but jade green with flecks of gold.
These guys give new meaning to debonair, huh?
Speaking of debonair, wanna spend some time with slick, tortured, sexy men? Just wait 'til you meet author Susan Mac Nicol's fantastic Male/Male Romances.

Submissions

Are you an author? Fantastic. We adore authors. We're seeking submissions from writers who can deliver the emotional punch readers crave. Space cowboys, gargoyles, the hunk next-door and crusty cops welcome. Boroughs Publishing Group will not limit your imagination; we encourage creative freedom. Stick to the tropes of the genre or push the envelope, as long as you're providing well written incredible story-telling we're game. Read more: http://www.boroughspublishinggroup.com/submit

Publisher Social Media

September 22, 2014

Publisher Week: Day 2 Meet our Bad Boys @BoroughsPubGrp #RLFblog #amreading

Boroughs Publishing 
This is Day 2 of Publisher Week featuring Boroughs Publishing Group. For the next few days, Romance Lives Forever will showcase this publisher and its authors.
---
Publisher's Week – Boroughs Publishing Group
Yesterday we had a Lunchbox Romance treat spending time with the Ladies of the Abberly Theater and today we're visiting with our 'Naughty Boys.' You know who they are, the bad boys we can't seem to stay away from, even though we know that they're more work, pains in the butt and downright ornery waaay too much of the time – but the sweet payoff of their true love is a thing of beauty.

Backfield in Motion

A Seattle Lumberjacks Romance - Mackenzie Hernandez is about to learn star running back Bruce "Bruiser" Mackey is more than just a pretty face.
Bruiser knew the drill. He almost made more from modeling than he did football. Plus, he didn't have a modest bone in his body. If they'd asked him to strip, he'd have stripped and given them the full-meal deal. But the league frowned on all-out nudity, so Bruiser's nude modeling had to be tastefully done with the goods disguised in dark shadows.
Bruiser changed his pose, propping one foot on the hay bale.
"Turn slightly. Put your back to me. Good. Good."
Click. Click. Click.
"Now strip off your shorts, hold them with a finger, and cover your package with your hat."
"How does that sell underwear?" Despite Bruiser's immodesty, getting nude fucking irritated him today.
"Do I look like a marketing person? Just another pose they asked for."
Bruiser shrugged and shucked out of his briefs—not easy when wearing boots—and dangled them on one finger as he held his hat over his crotch area. Harold clicked away while Bruiser changed poses and forced himself to stay alert.
"I expected your dick to be so big you'd need a sombrero to cover it."
Bruiser dropped the hat and spun around to face the speaker. Mackenzie Hernandez, known as Mac to all the guys on the team, stood in the barn door. Small and fit, with a nice little body, Mac was kinda cute with her upturned nose, mischievous deep brown eyes, and long, wavy, dirty blond hair, but she downplayed her physical attributes as if she didn't give a shit about appearances.
Mac made a show of looking at his crotch and arching an eyebrow, not the least bit embarrassed. But then, not much embarrassed Mac.

Fly Me

When a playboy pilot meets a beautiful, by-the-book first officer, he'll pit his charm against her icy reserve until a surprising love sends them both soaring.
"Captain Farrell." She extended one perfectly manicured hand. "Ronnie Talbot."
Even through the starched crisp uniform shirt, Flip could tell that underneath there had to be a flimsy piece of lace covering two glorious breasts. He wondered what it would take to make them pebble into hard sweet morsels. She wore slacks but they didn't hide the long firm limbs that tapered into slender ankles. He was disappointed to see feet in sensible low-heeled pumps—he'd been imagining a high-stepping number with an ankle strap. Flip's gaze traveled back up to her face, which now posed confusion.
"You are Captain Farrell, aren't you?"
His throat felt dry, and like an adolescent just brinking puberty, he croaked, "Yees."
"I mean, yes," he repeated in a deeper masculine tone. "Call me Flip." He gave her a smile that had been called dazzling by more than one woman who'd passed through his life at one time or another.
"I'm sorry, Captain. I wouldn't feel comfortable being on such familiar terms when I've just met you."
His grin was not returned. One look at her face made it clear there was no chance her response was a joke. She was strictly business.
The flight attendants greeted the passengers filing into the plane, most of them trying to peek a look at the pilots through the open door.
"When we're loaded, do you want me to do the radio or shall I take the first leg?"
Boy, she cuts to the chase. With his ego—both in his head and below the belt—severely squashed, he took his place in the left seat and reached for his headset.
Another emotion quickly replaced his lust: anger. It wasn't one he allowed himself to indulge at work because it kept him from doing his best. She'd caught him off guard. This is the problem letting women in the flight deck. Damn feminist movement had ruined a lot of good things and this was just about the worst.

Be Careful What You Kiss For

Detective Max Hunter has come a long way from high-school bad boy, and with everything on the line, nothing can stop him…except seeing his first love dancing in the club he's been assigned to investigate. Torn between getting her far away from the place and needing her help as an insider, he knows only two things for sure: Tensley's stirring feelings he thought long ago buried, and a relationship with her would be career suicide. Yet, maybe, just maybe, this was a love meant to overcome the past.
Max grabbed Tensley's arm before she hit the ground, but she shook him off, steadying herself against the back of the building.
Get away from her. Right. He'd tried that before. And it hadn't worked out so well.
She was thinner than he remembered, with a hard, shiny body instead of the softly voluptuous one that had cost him so many sleepless nights as a teenager.
But it was still her body. And he still wanted it like he'd wanted no other before or since.
She turned her face upward and his chest squeezed tight. Her eyes had always given her away, always said exactly what she was thinking and feeling, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. What he'd seen in her eyes all those years ago had nearly made him forget about the stupid bet that sent him to the high school library in the first place.
Fifteen years later, her eyes said, I hate you. I don't hate you. Don't go. I hate you. I want you, right here, right now.
Okay, maybe the last part was his dick talking. But this was all he fucking needed. Why couldn't she have acquired a jagged edge of distrust like any other self-respecting stripper?
He stepped back into the protection of the darkness. "You asked me to get you out of here." He wasn't sure what he'd expected from her, but it hadn't been this.
"And then you left." Her chin, held high, began to tremble.
"I couldn't—" He raked a hand through his hair. "Couldn't do anything inside."
"Except watch." She looked away. "And pay."
"What the hell, Tensley." As if that wasn't her job. He'd felt like shit giving her money, but it was pretty much the way it worked. Couldn't tell her why he was really there. At least not yet. "You said you wanted to go. Let's go."

Still to Come

Yum, huh? Tomorrow we'll visit with a different kind of bad boy, the kind that wear cravats and dress in brocade vests – yep, the Lords of Regency are just waiting to steal your hearts.

Submissions

Are you an author? Fantastic. We adore authors. We're seeking submissions from writers who can deliver the emotional punch readers crave. Space cowboys, gargoyles, the hunk next-door and crusty cops welcome. Boroughs Publishing Group will not limit your imagination; we encourage creative freedom. Stick to the tropes of the genre or push the envelope, as long as you're providing well written incredible story-telling we're game. Read more: http://www.boroughspublishinggroup.com/submit

Publisher Social Media



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