How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!
If you’ve been watching the news at all, you’ve probably heard about dozens of charities set up to help people get out of Ukraine and/or Afghanistan. The charity I’ve chosen this month is one I heard about on a news show and it sounded good to me. It’s Save Our Allies. Their mission: “Our Mission is to rescue American Citizens, Permanent Residents, SIV Holders, and other special populations from conflict zones and contested areas. For those brought to the United States we help them navigate the many challenges of being a Refugee in order to form a successful and productive life here at home.” Their current mission is to help evacuate civilians from Ukraine to a safe location. I heard about this group through a trusted source, so I feel comfortable donating to them. Please leave a comment on this blog post and I will send a donation to Save Our Allies. Thank you!
Passionate Destiny is a book with its roots in another war—the War Between the States. It takes place in Virginia near where I used to live. It’s fiction but might it be based in fact? Well, maybe…
Blurb:
When Margaret Amis-Hollings inherits an old house in Virginia, she never suspects she’ll be sharing it with a very loving ghost. Or that her interest will be divided between her spirit lover and the very live man who’s renovating the place. Suddenly her life is intertwined with a soldier from a previous century and with his descendant, Aaron Belton, who has a secret concerning her home. Is it coincidence or the power of a past love that makes her want to share her life—as well as her destiny—with Aaron?
Excerpt: “What do you mean I’m being cut?” Dr. Margaret Amis-Hollings, professor of women’s studies in the sociology department at Hardis College, shot out of her chair and stared at the dean, Sally Smith, who remained seated.
“Calm down, Margaret.”
“Calm down? Calm down? You just told me that I’ve lost my job.” Pacing, she raked her hand through the tangle of auburn hair that never seemed to stay contained in barrettes. A million things went through her mind, not the least of which was how she would make her rent, her car payment, buy food.
“Oh my God, how am I going to live?” Collapsing in the chair she’d just vaulted out of, she turned to face her friend and boss. Her expression was half despair, half anger, all shock.
“I’m so sorry, Margaret. The board has ordered more budget cuts. It hasn’t been easy. You know how we’ve had to scrimp for the past few years. Now we even have to cull courses we think aren’t serving the full interests of the students.”
“But—but…” Tears choking her throat, she couldn’t at first finish her sentence. “But the women’s studies classes? They’re vital.”
In fact, she had thought the reason for meeting with Sally was to discuss the addition of a new offering: Women Villains. She’d been so proud of the catchy and intriguing title and even had the hook for the course description. “What makes ‘Jane the Ripper,’ and how do her contributing factors differ from Jack’s?” She’d anticipated sharing the materials she’d already prepared, and hearing Sally’s happy response when she revealed the number of students who’d already indicated an interest.
She’d planned for questions of course, but anticipated support and excitement from Sally. The last thing she imagined was being let go.
After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.
How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!
With all of the bad news in the world, I wanted to select a charity that had a wide-reaching effort. I found Center for Disaster Philanthropy and selected the segment focusing on Ukraine relief. The mission of the CDP is to “Leverage the power of philanthropy to mobilize a full range of resources that strengthen the ability of communities to withstand disasters and recover equitably when they occur.” Their vision is “A world where the impact of disasters is minimized by thoughtful, equitable and responsible recovery for all.” They have a phenomenal rating on Charity Navigator of 96.8% of donations going toward their projects. Please comment and I will donate! Thank you!!
I wrote Naval Maneuvers as a kind of homage to Navy men and women, and in the book I talk about the difficulties placed on families with members in the service. Thanks to all those who serve their country and to those who serve their service member!
Naval Maneuvers
Blurb:
Men and women of the armed forces experience lust and love pretty much like everyone else. Except, well, there is that uniform. And the hard-to-resist attraction of “duty, honor, service” as a man might apply them to a woman’s pleasure. All things considered, romance among the military is a pretty sexy, compelling force for which you’d better be armed, whether weighing anchor and moving forward into desire, dropping anchor and staying put for passion, or in anchor home, setting a course for renewed love. Explore the world of love and the military and see just how hot Naval Maneuvers can be.
Carie made her way around the side of the building and nearly ran into Todd, who lounged against the weathered wood siding. He looked better than good in a pale blue polo shirt and jeans. Top-Sider boat shoes with no socks gave him that naturally casual look that no model could successfully carry out.
“I was hoping you’d come,” he said.
“You were pretty obvious,” she said dryly.
“I knew you were smart enough to catch the hint. I just didn’t know if you’d follow it.”
How could she not? The moment she noticed him she’d remembered the feel of his being deep inside her. But that didn’t change a damn thing. They shouldn’t be here, not together.
She held her head high and tried to look down her nose at him—nearly impossible since he was taller than she, but she had perfected the attitude long before meeting Todd Baxter. Senior Chief Todd Baxter. “I wanted to walk the beach while I was here, that’s all.” Todd grinned and Carie melted inside.
“Lucky for me, I wanted to walk the beach, too,” he said. “Quite a coincidence, huh?”
She snorted in disbelief and slipped off her sandals. Brushing by him, she was glad he didn’t try to kiss her or hold her. But then she frowned. Why didn’t he try to kiss her? She’d wanted to jump his bones right there in that Norfolk hallway. They had to maintain propriety then, but here, no one would see them. What held him back? She knew an unfamiliar sense of self-doubt. Had she mistaken his feelings before?
Nonsense. Carie knew what they’d had was more than mere lust. It had been lust of stupendous proportions, far beyond a few days of burning out. Then what held him back? Knowing the military regulations preventing officers and enlisted personnel from having a relationship, you idiot.
Damn. She finally found someone she clicked with, and he had to be an enlisted man in the Navy.
The sand felt good between her toes, cool and squishy. Gulls screeched overhead and on the sand, where they snatched up sand crabs and poked around for scraps sunbathers might have left. Surf pounded to the shore and then surged forward, the sharp white of its foam sharp against the dark, wet sand before the water was absorbed. The sun beat down, making her wish she’d worn her bathing suit under her jeans and tank top so she could take a quick dip, and remembered to bring a floppy hat to shield her face.
Suddenly, something was plopped on her head. She dragged it off to look at it. SFC Baxter was stamped on the inside of a white sailor hat, brim folded down.
“I kept it for sentimental purposes when I made chief,” Todd said. When she raised her brows, he continued. “I brought it in case you came without a cover. I remember you were sensitive to the sun when we went to pick up your clothes.” He smiled. “And I know you’re quick to freckle. Not that I don’t like your freckles a great deal. Ma’am.”
She cringed at his use of “Ma’am,” though it was the proper term for him to use when a superior officer was a woman. But she smiled inside that he’d remembered such a small thing like the sensitivity to the sun suffered by all redheads. Chagrined, she put the hat on and pulled it forward, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“After all that time in North Carolina, how in hell did we never mention what we did for a living?” She couldn’t believe her stupidity. Martha had nothing on her for not asking the right questions.
“In Carolina we had lots of other things on our minds. I knew you’re a lawyer. When I thought of you, I never wondered how you spent your time at work. I just thought of how you spent your time with me.”
“That’s pretty shallow.”
Todd laughed. “Not to a man.”
Stupid answer. But it had been his very maleness that captivated her. Well, and orgasms. Who’s shallow now?
“Look,” he said, his hand out in a request for understanding. “It isn’t as though I didn’t want to get to know you better. I did. I do. But when we’re together I can’t keep my hands off you. I can’t stop thinking how I want to touch you, kiss you, do other things to–”
“When were you going to tell me you were in the Navy?” she asked.
He sighed loud enough that she heard it over the sound of the waves. “I don’t know. I guess when we slowed down enough to talk. There wasn’t much time.”
There hadn’t been. In Asheville, if they hadn’t been eating or sleeping, they busy in other ways. And there hadn’t been much eating or sleeping going on.
“I think they should put a plaque on the outside of that room for the fewest number of times the occupants left in four days. I couldn’t get enough of you.” Carrying his shoes in his left hand, he stuck his right hand in his pocket and strolled along beside her, barefoot. “I still can’t.”
“You didn’t exactly write and tell me that.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to assume too much, not knowing if you wanted me again as much as I wanted you. Call me shy.” He grinned, and she burst into laughter. “Besides,” he continued, “you’re the one who left saying, ‘It’s been fun.'”
She dipped her head, acknowledging the fact. “And you agreed.”
“Carie, I was scared.”
He sounded sincere, but really? He stopped and stared out across the breakers. She stared along with him, wondering what he saw out there. “I’m pretty set in my ways,” he said, and she had to strain to hear him, he spoke so low. “I’ll be honest, I haven’t been a monk, but sex with you was different. You made me think of things I’d never considered before.” He studied her face. “Do you understand?”
“I think so,” she said softly. “I wanted you more than anything. I’ve never had time or energy for a relationship. I’ve given all I have to my career. But I think I want more now.”
Todd reached to cup her cheek but then dropped his hand. “Like I said, I’m not a monk but there’s been no one since you.”
She wanted him. More, she needed him. “Nor for me. It wouldn’t have been the same. Nothing before you was ever that intense. Nothing else has ever touched me.” Pain struck her heart. “I want to kiss you so damn much.”
Before he could say anything, she turned and began walking again, sticking her hand in her pocket so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach for his hand. She’d had to hold herself back from stepping into his arms in the hallway on base. Here, on a near-empty beach, she had to exert even more will power. “That was then, and this is now. Vacation and real life seldom mix.”
“Funny,” he said. “Given the chance, I’d mix vacation and real life in a New York minute”
“Me, too,” she admitted. “But we can’t now. You’ve ruined everything.”
She felt him stiffen beside her. Idiot! You make a living saying the right thing to sway people’s opinion and you screw up like that?
“This is my fault how?” he asked quietly. She hadn’t seen him angry, but she had an idea this quiet voice was the prelude.
“You’re in the Navy but you’re not an officer.” It might sound petty, but regs were regs. “Why aren’t you an officer?” Okay, and that sounded whiny. But damn it, she felt whiny. “That attorney friend of yours said you were a mechanical engineer. Weren’t you offered OCS?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. After I received my BS and again after I earned my Masters. I didn’t accept because I didn’t want to be an officer.”
“Why not?” She spun to face him, the arm holding her sandals outstretched in confusion. She’d never met anyone who would turn down the chance to make more money and have more prestige.
“I like working, using my hands, being with my men—on the job and off.”
She started walking again. “Well, too bad you like sleeping with me. Or you seemed to. God knows, I loved being with you. And now it’s all over.”
“I’m surprised at you, counselor. The regulation obviously was written for two people who work together. It’s to keep one from having undue power over the other. We don’t work together.”
“It’s military regulations. You don’t mess with them. I don’t mess with them. I work to uphold them, not bend them to suit my desires.”
“I love your desires.” He pulled her hand from her pocket. Linking their fingers, he stepped closer and they continued their stroll across the sand as though the world hadn’t just turned on its axis. “Right here, right now, it feels like we never left Asheville. The view is different but we’re the same.”
Carie opened her mouth for air, suddenly needing more than she had a moment ago. But she couldn’t gather the strength needed to take back her hand. “The view isn’t the only thing different.”
He frowned. “Was I the friend you had planned to surprise this weekend?”
“Yes.” She sighed.
He laughed out loud. “You succeeded wildly.”
Author Dee S. Knight:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.
After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.
Blurb: Wendy Dennison is tired of being a starving author. The royalties from her critically acclaimed romance novels barely pay her bills. Her devoted agent Daniel Rochester may be smart and sexy, but he can’t get her the sales she needs. Then a charismatic stranger appears at her coffee shop table, promising her fame and commercial success, as well as the chance to live out her dreams of erotic submission. But at what cost?
Nothing you can’t afford to lose, my dear.
Seduced by the enigmatic Mister B, she signs his infernal contract. He becomes both her Master and her coach, managing her suddenly flourishing career as well as encouraging her lusts. Under her mentor’s nefarious influence, she surrenders to temptation and has sex with Daniel. The casual encounter turns serious when she discovers her mild mannered agent has a dominant side. As the clock ticks down to her blockbuster release and Mister B prepares to claim her soul, Wendy must choose either celebrity and wealth, or obscurity and true love.
In my new release Damned If You Do, my heroine Wendy Dennison signs a diabolical contract, exchanging her soul for commercial success as an erotic romance author. She only agrees to this bargain, however, after the mysterious Mister B explains that she must also accept him as her sexual Master.
Wendy has dreamed of erotic submission all her adult life. Her books celebrate the ecstatic connection between Dom and sub. However, aside from a brief, soul-searing relationship in her youth, she has no real BDSM experience. When Mister B offers her the chance to live out her most cherished fantasies, she can’t refuse. His promise of best seller status is not enough to sway her, but the lure of surrender is too powerful to ignore.
Excerpt 4: PG-rated (but the book is explicit)
The limo deposited her in front of her little house and floated away. A bit weary from the lengthy ordeal at the salon, Wendy almost tripped over the figure sitting on her front steps.
“Dan! What are you doing here?”
Her agent looked rumpled and haggard. He didn’t even bother to stand, though his eyes were hungry as he surveyed her.
“You don’t answer my calls. You ignore my emails. I figured the only way I could get through to you was to show up at your door.”
“Emails? I haven’t heard from you in months! I figured you were mad at me…”
“Every day, Wendy. I’ve sent you a message every single day. I’ve called again and again. That damned personal assistant of yours answers every time.” He rose to his feet finally, looking around with a scowl. “Where is the bastard, anyway?”
“I—um—I’m not sure. I think he’s doing some errands.” She rummaged in her bag for her key. “Come inside. We’ll talk.”
“No. You come with me.” He grabbed her sleeve, pulling her down the walkway toward a gray Taurus with a Steelers Rent-a-Car decal parked across the street. “You’ve got to get away from that guy. He’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous? What are you talking about? He’s been great for my career.”
Dan grabbed her shoulders and shook her, hard. “Wake up, Wendy! He’s got you under some kind of spell. You’ve become a totally different person.”
She tore herself free. “Yeah, I have. Instead of being a loser, I’m finally a successful author.”
“You’ve cut yourself off from everyone. I got an email from Jenna the other day. You do remember Jenna, right? Your old friend Jenna Martin? She was worried. Said she hadn’t been able to get in touch for weeks.”
Jenna. How odd. Wendy hadn’t even thought about her, not since that afternoon in the coffee shop when her crit partner sent the link about Sapphire Sands. The afternoon Mister B had come into her life. In the old days, they communicated nearly every day.
“I’ve been busy. Busy writing.”
“Is that all you’ve been doing? That slimy character Bent loves to suggest you two have been involved in other activities…”
She tried to take his arm. He shook her off. “Please, Dan, calm down. I’m fine. I’ve finally found my writing groove. Everything is going great.” She flashed him what she hoped was a charming smile. “I’m going to be on the Breakfast in America show later this week.”
“I wondered why you were all gussied up.” His bitter tone made her wince.
“You should be happy for me. After all, I’m making plenty of money for you, too!”
“Forget about money for once. What about feelings?” He grabbed her with both hands, pulled her close and held her tight against his body.
About Lisabet:
LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.
It’s hard reviewing books. Even when all I did was read, and the only opinion I had to worry about was my own, it still took work. Sometimes you just want to enjoy the emotional experience of a book without having to put it into words. Publishing a review thrusts you into the public eye, turning your raw feeling into something that can influence another person—that’s one heck of a responsibility!
As an author, things get complicated. It’s often hard to share a raw opinion, especially if it’s not overwhelmingly positive, knowing there’s another writer out there just like you, who may be hurt or confused by what you have to say. “Suck it up, buttercup” is unhelpful on both sides, even though we authors are generally advised to grow a thicker skin and accept we can’t please everyone. The thing is, we’re all human—fallible, vulnerable, sensitive—it’s what makes us able to relate to each other and create good stories for our readers.
There’s also the matter of reconciling the technical self with the emotional self. What happens if you can’t stand the way an author writes, but the story’s so good you end up enjoying the book? Or what if the story is dreck, but perfectly written? What’s your criteria for adding up those stars then?
Then there are the times when things get uncomfortable. Early in my career, I agreed to participate in a review swap. In case you’ve not heard of these, it’s when the two (or more) authors agree to read each other’s books and leave a review, usually on Amazon and Goodreads.
I got right to reading, but found I couldn’t connect with the characters or the story. And when I wrote to the author privately to let them know, they responded asking me not to post a review because they only wanted 5-star reviews associated with their book.
Now, I understand the desire to write a 5-star book. I can appreciate that publishing is a business no matter how romantic the story, and that practices like this are common and accepted in some circles. But something about this exchange didn’t sit well with me.
As a writer, it made me feel like I chose a dishonest line of work. As a reader, it made me lose trust in the indie publishing sector, where we may lack the readership numbers needed to outshine these minor manipulations. I used to wonder why many reviewers state explicitly that they were giving “an honest review”. After this incident, I stopped wondering.
These days, I avoid review swaps, review requests, and any kind of review-related transaction. I’ve learned that I’m a “moodreader” and, as such, it would be unfair of me to promise a fair review if I’m emotionally incapable of delivering one.
Likewise, I don’t expect any of my writer friends—even close ones—to read or review my books. Reading fiction is a privilege and a pleasure, and I think sometimes we authors lose that in the deluge of our work.
If, like me, you’ve grown weary and wary of book review culture, here are a few alternative ways to support an indie author whose stories you admire:
Recommend instead of review. A book may not be for you, but you might know someone who’s looking for that exact read.
Include the book in literary discussions. Need an example in a blog post or forum discussion? Consider citing a lesser-known book alongside the customary bestsellers.
Give that author a boost on social media. Even if you’re not sharing your in-depth opinion of their work, this helps them reach a wider audience and achieve stickier brand recognition.
Engage with their online content. Social feed algorithms are diabolically good at helping bigger names overshadow smaller players. Every like, reply, save, repost and follow can help your favourite newcomer gain visibility and connect with more readers.
About JL Peridot
JL Peridot writes love stories and more from her home beneath the southern skies. When not chipping away at her current WIP, she’s chomping down on a new favourite book, watching Netflix, and chilling real good. SubscribetoJL’smailinglist for banter, updates, teasers and the occasional microfiction.
Bounty hunter Adria Yuan is hot on the trail of her final hit: a notorious hacker wanted by the city’s elite. With the reward, she can pay for her brother’s surgery and finally get out of Basilica City. Trouble is, her line of work’s not exactly legal, and she’s barely staying ahead of the cops who want her target, too.
Detective Rhys Carver may be a little unorthodox, but he’s a good cop. Born and bred in Basilica, he does his part to keep his city clean. As clean as it gets, at least. And with Adria suddenly in his sights, it’s going to take more than falling in love for him to let her go.
As the pair close in on their mark, they are unwittingly drawn into a high profile conspiracy that could thrust the whole of Basilica into chaos. Can Adria and Rhys set aside their differences, and their desires, to save the only home they know?
Adria hadn’t counted on the tripwire. This kid knew someone would follow him home one day. He’d strung a line of empty soup cans across the apartment hallway. When she kicked that out, a hefty serving of iced water came down squarely on her head. Gooseflesh prickled her neck and shoulders. The muscles in her jaw seized in the cold. Against the shock, she scrambled to her feet, fired up to catch the stomping and crashing in the other room before it got away.
A figure ran past the doorway.
“Stop!” she yelled.
It rounded the corner. Adria gave chase.
She scanned the room. It was dim at best, thanks to the streetlights from outside, but she saw enough. Computer equipment and various peripherals lay strewn across the floor, some still plugged into a transportable battery in the corner, emitting tiny lights and numbers.
A window slammed shut. The glass shattered. Shards crunched and ground beneath Adria’s boots as she hurried in pursuit of her fleeing target.
When she stepped out onto the fire escape, two hands rammed her into the ladder. The whole balcony shuddered from the collision. Pain flared down her shoulder, but she kept her grip on the gun. She held it up with her good arm and fired.
Two shots.
Missed.
She stumbled backward, clutching her burning shoulder, but the railing crumbled under her weight. Adria grabbed what was left of it with both hands as her footing slipped away.
It looked like a four-story drop. Maybe five if she’d miscounted. Her legs dangled over thin air while from below came the clatter of broken pieces of railing, along with her gun, as they hit the concrete.
Overhead, her target stomped away on the rungs and disappeared onto the roof.
Adria’s shoulder raged. She tried to pull herself up, but couldn’t take the weight with just one good arm. Her feet kicked out, searching for a foothold, but the grill beneath had long withered away to slivers of rust and sharp edges.
Water and sweat dripped into her eyes. She swiped them helplessly on her sleeves and winced as rough seams grazed the skin. The railing creaked in her clammy grip. She could always let go. If she timed her landing right, maybe she’d get away with a broken ankle and a tetanus shot. Surely it only looked like a long way down.
Then she heard a gunshot from inside the apartment.
Blurb:
Another erotic fairy tale with Princess Katherine and Prince Cole.
Susan Baer, founder of Baer Hugs, health centers for women, longs to find her special someone. Sadly, there are no prospects in sight. Suddenly, three men come into her life. All successful, all gorgeous, all blond. And posing their own unique problems. One is too rough and hard in his treatment, one is too soft and wants her to take charge. The last is…well, let’s just say he’s unavailable. *sigh* Can any of them turn out to be “just right?”
Excerpt: She frowned as Toby nudged her into the dining room. In the back of her mind, something niggled at her. A concern, a problem… Whatever it was seemed inconsequential now and she stopped trying to remember what it was.
A long table centered in the room drew a large crowd. She and Toby edged to the front where she saw two naked women reclining on the tabletop, feet to feet. Various fruit and crudités covered and surrounded them, with dipping sauces in small glass containers between their breasts, at their belly buttons and at their shaven pussies.
Toby leaned around her and picked up a ripe strawberry. He dipped it into the light colored sauce between one woman’s legs and fed it to Susan.
“Hmm.” She used her tongue to capture a tiny drop at the corner of her mouth.
His eyes flamed with interest. “What’s the flavor of the sauce?”
“Honey-cream.”
“How very appropriate.” He fed her another.
Across the table, she watched a man dip his finger into the sauce then lift it, dripping, to his companion’s lips. The woman watched the man’s eyes; he watched her mouth as she sucked and licked the sauce from him. Susan practically groaned at the sight.
“Are you truly hungry? Because I am, though not for what’s here.”
Susan didn’t answer. Her body leaned toward the other side of the table as she watched the scene being played out. The man had bared the woman’s breast and now tongued drops of sauce from it. Susan licked her lips, tasting the sweetness of the cream while the man swirled his tongue around the woman’s nipple.
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Blurb:
Seriously anal man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife in order to set a good example. That’s what Daniel wants. Too bad what he gets is one hell of a sexy woman who doesn’t care for rules.
Excerpt: “Hello?” Eve’s voice sounded as smooth and sexy as it had last Friday when she’d whispered harder into Daniel’s ear. Then, he’d been driving into her. Now he was passively listening over the phone, and still her voice had him hard in seconds.
Unfortunately, the sex had been on Friday, and this was Monday. A long, lonely weekend had intervened, making his cock twitch in protest that he was on the Westover Academy campus and she was miles away in her apartment above The Bare Moose tavern.
“Did I interrupt you? Are you already at work?” He hoped not. He wanted her in her apartment, wearing nothing but silky stockings and heels.
“No, I was changing and thought you might call, so I stopped dressing. I’m stretched out on the bed right now.”
He couldn’t believe she meant what he thought she meant. “You’re naked?”
“Naked, hot and wet. Dripping wet, wishing your cock was deep inside me.” Her voice dropped an octave; his dick grew an inch.
“God, you’re going to kill me.” Imagining her with no clothes, spread wide and aching for him the way he ached for her, he unzipped his trousers and released his cock from his briefs. His cool hand caressing the shaft didn’t begin to lessen the fiery desire fueling his erection.
“Baby, it’s what you do to me,” she purred. “My nipples are at attention, hard and peaked, and I can feel you sucking them. Your mouth is so hot, your tongue is rough on my sensitive skin.”
“I love your tits, God knows I do, but I want to taste your pussy.”
“I’m open and waiting. But I warn you, I’m so close, just a lick will make me come.”
She thought she was close? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d jacked off, and he’d never had phone sex. Jonah had told him once that he had had phone sex and how fucking hot it had been. Daniel hadn’t been able to imagine that it could compare in any way to the real thing—and he was right, of course. But in lieu of the real thing, Jonah was right. It was fucking hot.
“Put your lips on me, Daniel. Lick me up.”
Titillating nuances, double entendres, maybe a hint that he might get lucky at the end of an evening—that had been the extent of his sensual telephone experiences. Those experiences were as far from this as, well, North Carolina small town life was from Westover Academy. Eve was inviting him to eat her, and there was no way he’d disappoint.
“Sweetheart, I’m gonna do more than lick.” Scrunched down in his leather armchair, still dressed in his suit and gown from class, he stroked his length, only vaguely aware he’d slipped into his Carolina drawl. “You’re so sweet, Eve, your cream is like honey. And your smell.” Closing his eyes, he inhaled as though his nose could really detect the bouquet of her arousal. “I think in a room of women I could find you just by your scent if you were aroused.”
“If you were looking for me, I’d be aroused.”
Faster and harder, he pumped his dick.
“Is your clit sensitive? I’ve sucked it into my mouth and it’s swollen and thick against my tongue. And don’t worry, I’ve slipped a couple fingers in your sweet, wet pussy, and we’re jammin’, honey. Most of my face is covered in your juices.”
“God! Can you come with me?”
“Yeah, oh yeah, one second.” His breath caught. He jacked his strokes until his hand was a piston. “Now, sweetheart, now!” Daniel growled the words as his cock pulsed, shooting cum into his palm, which deflected it away from his shirt and vest.
Caught up in his release, he wasn’t too far gone to hear Eve’s panting breaths and soft whimpers. He wanted her to scream, to wrap herself around him and let the sounds and convulsions of her orgasm reverberate through him.
Finally, he heard her soft breathing. “Eve?”
“Yes, Tony, thanks so much. I’d better go now before my friend Daniel calls.”
He shot up half-way. “What the fu—” Her laughter stopped him dead, and he caught the joke. About to rake his fingers through his hair, he took a look at what covered his palm and reached over to pick up an unused napkin from the coffee table. With some difficulty, he wiped his hand and cleaned himself. “Please tell me you’re really naked and that wasn’t an act.”
“Believe me, Mr. Goodman, that was no act. That was incredible.”
“Thank God. I’ll have to have this suit dry cleaned and I’d hate to think it was for a one-sided hand job.” He chuckled but his voice and tone were once again Daniel Goodman, Ph.D., all trace of North Carolina gone.
She laughed again. “I like that you called before you even changed clothes. You’re not going to stick me with the cleaning bill, are you?”
“When I stick you with something, it won’t be a bill.” He smiled at her chuckle. “How did you know it was me calling?”
“Well, let’s see…”
In his mind, he pictured her lying on her back and staring at the ceiling, one leg bent and the other across it, swinging as she talked. One finger would be twirling a long strand of her hair, her cheeks would be pink and glowing, and her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. How could he be so in tune with a woman he’d met barely a week ago? It seemed a miracle. For the millionth time he wished she had a nice, respectable job, where she’d fit into the Academy culture and he wouldn’t be risking his career to date her openly.
About Dee: A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.
After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.
The question this week is whether characters are more fun as idealists or pragmatists. You know, do you prefer to write (or read) those characters who always strive for the vision and tilt at windmills, perhaps, or characters who see tings as they really are—and who maybe take advantage of that realism, as J.R. did. I think the answer is, too much of anything can be, well, too much.
Especially in romance, I think having characters who dream a little bit are necessary. In my newly (re)published erotic romance The Cinderella Curse, heroine Charlotte dreams of meeting and capturing her Prince Charming, the head of her publishing firm. He’s somewhat out of her league in that he’s rich, influential, and worldly. And she’s…not. But still, she sees her goal and simply won’t accept that she can’t have him. We all know what happened to Cinderella when she made her wish and then made it to the ball: Katy bar the door!
In the same book, hero Cooper knows the man Charlotte has set her sights on, and he’s pretty sure he’s not the right man for Charlotte. But in his own practical way, he hesitantly helps her map a path to her goal, all while counseling, aiding, and reminding her of what life can be like when she keeps her feet on the ground and head out of the clouds. Together they make quite a pair. But did I enjoy writing one more than the other? No. Did I hear from readers who said they liked reading one more than the others? Well, yeah, kinda. Readers loved Cooper (me, too!) but that’s because I made him yummy, not because he was a pragmatist.
Would I have enjoyed these two if I had written them too strongly in one direction or another? No. Charlotte had to have some common sense and Cooper some flexibility in order for them to be fun and realistic. A good book is composed of characters of both stripes. That can create good conflict and fun reading, no matter which type of character you tend towards.
This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!
Only a Good Man Will Do Blurb:
Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!
Daniel Goodman is a man on a mission. He aims to become headmaster of Westover Academy. For that he needs a particular, special woman to help him set high standards. Into his cut and dried life of moral and upright behavior, comes Eve Star, formerly one of Europe’s foremost exotic dancers. Her life is anything but cut and dried, black and white. Daniel is drawn to her like a kid to chocolate. Nothing good can come of this attraction. Or can it? He is after all, a good man.
Excerpt: Jonah’s frown disappeared. Nothing bothered him for long. “You know, it’s pretty up here in the fall.”
“Yes, isn’t it? You came at the perfect time, too. Good thing you can stay with me. During foliage, when the leaves are turning, you can’t get a hotel room from here to Connecticut.”
“Oh, I can’t stay, Daniel. In fact, right after dinner I have to make the train to Boston so I can catch the six a.m. flight back to Charleston.”
Daniel stopped and spun toward his brother in amazement. “What? Jonah, your note didn’t say you’d only be here a couple of hours. I would have made arrangements for someone to take my classes. We could have had more time. Jesus, it’s been two or three years since we’ve seen each other.”
With a concerted effort, he refrained from raking his hand through his hair, a nervous habit from childhood it had taken him years to break. His near relapse must be due to the emotion he felt seeing Jonah again. If it was true that a special bond existed between twins, then an even stronger tie bound the set of rare, identical triplets. And while he, Mark, and Jonah had gone their separate ways since high school—almost twenty years ago—he always felt incomplete, as though a small piece of him was missing when they weren’t in contact. Being with Jonah now made him realize how alone he was. Not for companionship, but for someone who understood the soul of him, without words or judgments or questions. No one did that but his brothers.
Jonah laid his hand on Daniel’s arm. “I know. I feel the same.” Their telepathic communication always surprised, and in some cases frightened, friends and relatives. But Jonah and Daniel took it as a matter of course.
They began walking again.
“What do you hear from Mark?” Daniel asked.
“Nothing much.” Jonah frowned. “Why don’t we stay in better touch?”
“Because we’re guys? I don’t know.”
“Well, as far as I know, Mark is still in Richmond, being a nerd.” Jonah flicked a leaf that had drifted into his hair to the ground.
“Still with that same finance company?”
“Hell, you probably know as much as I do. But gossiping about Mark is not why I came up. I came up to deliver a message. It’s something I didn’t think you should hear over the phone. It’s about mom and dad.”
Daniel stopped again and grabbed Jonah’s arm to halt his progress. “Oh, my God! They’re not—”
“No, sorry, no. Nothing like that.”
Daniel blew a breath of relief. “Then what could be so important you’d fly all the way to New Hampshire to tell me?”
Jonah grinned. “Well, Daniel, it’s like this.” He pulled himself to his impressive full six feet two inches, clasped his hands in prayer and recited, “Friends, we are gathered here in the presence of God and this company, to witness—”
“What!?”
“Yeah! Isn’t it great? This November we can give thanks that our parents are finally getting married.”
Jonah, the idiot, grinned even wider, like a puppy who’d just been tossed a big old steak bone. Obviously, he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation.
“And they’re not keeping it quiet, either. Nope, they’re doing it up right. Turns out, one of the men who knew mom from her days in show business—”
Daniel closed his eyes. “She was a stripper, Jonah, not a movie star.”
Jonah flapped his hand. “Whatever. Anyway, he’s arranged for them to use the country club. And you know dad’s old friends at the bank never held his troubles against him—
“His troubles? He stole money, Jonah. It was only because the bank president liked dad and the money was returned that he didn’t spend hard time in federal prison.”
Jonah put a hand on his shoulder, thinking to calm him, no doubt. Too late for that.
“I know. But the fact remains, Dad’s well-liked, so they’ve got a big bachelor party planned.”
The groan he heard had to have come from him. His brother was having too much fun to make a sound filled with such angst.
“They’ve scheduled the whole shebang for over the Thanksgiving holidays. I don’t have to work and you won’t have school, so we can both be there. The local paper’s already featured them in the society section. Couple Finally Ties Knot After Thirty-Seven Years Together. Sons Serve As Witnesses. You should see them, Daniel. They’re like kids.”
Yes, he could just imagine. The stripper and the embezzler. Sounded like a farce from a burlesque show. Daniel frowned. How was it Jonah didn’t see the ridiculousness of the situation? Daniel loved his parents dearly, but really, what was the point in getting married now? Why hadn’t they committed to each other when it could have served some purpose? Like before their sons were born.
Author Dee S. Knight:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.
After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.
I adored this book! I’m giving Desire Me Again a 5-star rating. It’s sometimes hard to put together a great anthology collection, but overall, the stories in Desire Me Again are superb! I am, of course, not reviewing my own story, but I hope readers like it!
Renewing Forever Virginia Wallace
David, all human, is married to Jillian, all wolf-shifter, but lately he’s been unsettled. He moved from his home in upstate New York thinking Virginia would be sunnier in the winter, he gave up his beloved Camara for a station wagon when they started a family, and now Jillian seems to be moody all the time. He’s pretty convinced she’s going to leave him. He hopes she and her family don’t eat him in the process. I really liked this story. It’s about a human/shifter marriage but it’s really a treatise on marriage itself—especially a blended or mix-marriage. Insecurity, doubts, fears, they all play a part in this story. As they do in real life. Kudos, Virginia, for this second chance between a married couple who find what it means to love forever!
Temperance
Gibby Campbell
Dominant Pete took a chance with his tarot-reading submissive, Lexie, years before and lost her. Now, long after she’d given up on seeing Pete again, the King of Swords keeps popping out of her tarot deck. The card symbolizes change. Sure enough, like the card, Pete pops back into her life. He’s successful—as is she—and seems to have matured. But can Lexie trust that a second chance will mean Pete will take better care of her heart? I loved the slight paranormal aspect of this story and the twist that using tarot cards adds. Gibby knows her stuff—both in reading the cards and writing a wonderful story that explores the D/s world.
Lost and Found: A Soldier’s Return
R.M. Olivia
Kasey is a wife who’s unsure if she wants her husband to come home from Afghanistan. Oh, she wants him alive and well, but maybe not at home with her and their two daughters. He’s been gone two years on his deployment, and part of that time he was MIA. Before he left the last time, he’d displayed horrifying behavior of PTSD—locking himself in their bedroom with his pistol. But he refused to get help. She doesn’t know now who might be coming home. Add to it, their daughters are young and demanding (as children are), and her mother-in-law has been living with them to help out with the girls. It’s no wonder Kasey needs a time-out. This tender story struck home with me as a Navy brat who saw first-hand the trials military families often face with long separations and then the coming home, which always changes things. Add the horrors of war, and a second chance at a loving relationship is harder. Well done, R.M.!
A Convict’s Prayer
Jan Selbourne
This story will blow you away, especially since it’s based on one of Jan’s ancestors!
In 1841, Eleanor Craddock is transported from Ireland to Van Dieman’s Land (now Tasmania) for the crime of stealing 10 sovereigns. Her children were starving and what’s a desperate mother who can’t find work to do? For that, she was stripped from her family and home. For some, transportation was a death sentence. For others, it’s a second chance. Which will it be for Eleanor? Jan brings this tale to life with her great writing and attention to historical accuracy. It’s a touching story that shows how hope can change one’s life. I loved it!
The Hand-cuff Proposal
Patricia Elliott
Long-time friends Jason and Cora share a house. Well, it’s actually Jason’s house. He’s a cop and can better afford to offer Cora a place to stay. Cora waitresses—normally. Just that day she lost her job. Then she came home to find that Jason had eaten her last ice cream drumstick (yum! I like them, too!). Bad things come in threes, so what else is about to happen? Jason and Cora have both developed feelings for the other way beyond BFFs, but neither is willing to take the chance of losing their friendship to bring up the matter. Until Cora lands on a plan. When looking for work, she finds an ad for a local strip joint. She can take a job there, wait for Jason to stop by on his rounds, be swept home in a wave of male protective traits and then swept into bed. It’s a great plan, right? What was that about bad things coming in threes…? This second chance will take a bit of work. Patricia really brings these characters to life. I couldn’t help but feel for them while they tried to feel their way to each other. And watching Cora work through her plan? I just wanted to nudge her around the strip joint and to some nice, family diner.
Flight to the Stars
Zia Westfield
Talon is a man under a curse. He has a connection to a falcon, but is unable to shift, something that tears at his soul. Plus, his family is under a curse. For the last five generations, the oldest son has died on his 30th birthday. Talon’s birthday is that weekend. An emergency among the paranormal entities has brought Talon back together with his former love, Vega. With her talents, Talon hopes to find the source of the trouble and end it. Trouble is, nine years ago, Talon turned his back on her and walked away. He didn’t want her to have to face the consequences of his curse. Now, however, with only a day left, he wants a second chance to spend every moment in her arms. I loved this story! With the combination of a crisis and mystery, and the clock ticking, plus some nice comedic moments, this is a fine tale and great writing.
Together at Last
Carol Schoenig
Seconds after she hears barking, Grace is pushed into the freezing lake by a huge dog. Fortunately, the dog’s owner jumps in to save her. Battling hypothermia, they both nearly drown before Joe drags Grace from the lake and breathes life back into her. Not knowing what else to do, he carries Grace to his truck and takes her to his grandfather’s house, where he warms her before the fire and then hands her over to the care of his grandfather. When Grace opens her eyes, she thinks she’s seeing a ghost. Ian stars back—the first time she’d seen him in years. She’d been in high school and he in college when they broke up in a violent encounter. Since then, they’d married others and raised children. Are there too many years between them to find a second chance? This is a sweet and warm story that proves that where’s there’s true love, there’s always a way.
Xposé
Annabel Allen
I liked this title because it represents two things in the story: Xposé as the swinger club’s dungeon and exposé as a reporter.
Arianna is a member of a swingers’ club but we find out at the beginning that she has a reason for it beyond the erotic adventure. When Arianna is invited to join Master K in the dungeon, she thinks she’s going to find the answer to why several women have disappeared from the club and make her bones as a reporter. Instead, she gets the shock of her life when Master K turns out to be her high school love, Koran. He sure didn’t have all those defined abs in high school, or really the ability to make her want to climb him like an animal longing to have wild monkey sex. She also didn’t expect to be one of the women being snatched from the club! If something good doesn’t happen soon, she and Koran will miss their second chance! I liked that Annabel had Ava Goode and Reichen make cameo appearances in this story. Well done, well-written story with mystery and a bit of BDSM!
The Holiday Mermaid
Alice Renaud
Adam is stunned when a gorgeous, bikini-clad wonder comes up to him on the beach and invites him to take her for a drink. That moment leads to a month of heaven, and then he wakes one morning to find her gone. Now, at Christmas, Rowena has returned. She hasn’t been able to forget him, despite knowing that love between a mermaid and a human can’t be. When Adam finds her, she’s injured. He cares for her and they rediscover their love. But let’s face it, love is hard enough to negotiate without throwing in the complication of a different species! She has to return to the Morvann Islands once more, to ask for advice and help, but then she hopes to come back to Adam for good. Can they find their way to a second chance? This delightful story is the end to Alice’s Sea of Love series. I’ve enjoyed each and every book, and this story of a mermaid finding love while on holiday is a fitting tribute and great ending!
As I said at the beginning, I enjoyed all of the stories in this 5-star collection, Desire Me Again. BVS puts together wonderful anthologies, from the fabulous covers (by Jessica Greeley) to the compilations themselves. I’m proud and honored to be among the authors selected for these books.
There was a time, in the long ago, when our only choice was to read “real” books. That is to hold an actual thing bound as a hardback or paperback. We had to hold the book open—sometimes to press it to keep it open—and keep it at the proper reading height. Sometimes those tomes were heavy. Sometimes the binding was such that it took real effort to keep the book open and we creased the spines. If we dropped the book, we lost our place. We couldn’t easily prop it open to read while we ate, or we had to hold the book open one-handed if we wanted to drink a cup of coffee. Those days ended for me when hubby bought me an ebook reader for Christmas. I’ve hardly had a better gift!
The reader was made by RCA. It had a handle for easy handling and a backlit screen. I’ll admit, I sometimes get new technology and I think about it for awhile before I start using it. Not this ebook reader! I had it up and running and looking for places to buy ebooks right away. Back then, Powell’s in Portland was just about the only place, other then through RCA itself. Since then I’ve bought another reader like that one when the company sold it, and two Kindles.
We used to move a lot. I remember times when we had boxes upon boxes of books to lug around. Then you need places to put them. Now I can carry the equivalent of those boxes on one Kindle. Granted, actual books won’t run out of power in the middle of a chapter and have to be recharged, but the convenience of my Kindle outweighs the inconvenience.
People say they like to hold a book in their hands. That they love the smell of the paper. (They’ve obviously never “smelled” the paper when the basement floods and boxes of books stored there have gotten soaked.) I say, more power to them. I’m glad there are still real books available. Using a Kindle cookbook isn’t to my liking, so even I see a need for the real thing now and then. But for the most part? I’ll love and cherish my electronic book reader!