Monday, April 30, 2012

Word Junkie Anonymous

I am a word junkie. No big shakes. As far as afflictions go, my addiction is pretty harmless. I have several friends who share my disorder, belong to a few support groups that function under guise of “writers’ groups”, and have even compiled a list of favorite words with my nine year-old daughter—evidently an addiction to words is part of the gene pool. 
However, there are times I feel my obsession goes a little beyond the “norm”. Let me try to put it into perspective by using an example we can all relate to…
You’re out on a Saturday afternoon shopping at the mall with your family. Passing by one of the various shoe stores, you catch sight of a pair of gorgeous, soft-green, Italian stilettos. They are sparkly…calling your name…but unfortunately are well outside your price range.  
You pick them up for a closer look. They are well-made and only one pair in your size remains on the shelf. In a moment of impulse, you take them to the register and add them to your smoldering, over-loaded credit card.
There is no real reason to buy the shoes. You don’t need them. They match nothing in your closet and it’s been approximately fifteen years since a pair of stilettos has been anywhere near your feet. They don’t even come close to practicality (where do you plan on wearing these shoes? Wal-Mart?), but they make you happy and are just so darn pretty, you cannot resist.
One of two things happen: You take them home, display them on your dresser, pick them up often and admire the quality and craftsmanship. You imagine wearing the shoes for a night out on the town…someplace besides the all-u-can-eat buffet…and live vicariously through visuals of the glamorous life those beautiful shoes emulate.
OR…you keep them in your car and spend the next six months searching for just the right outfit. You take the shoes into every store you enter (including Dollar General) and hold them in the natural light, calling the sales associate over to see if she might have anything that would match.
Such is my obsession with words. 
Two weeks ago I was helping my son with his 6th Grade Geography lesson when I stumbled across a word I had never seen before. The world screeched to a halt. I wrote the word down, raced to my laptop and immediately Googled the definition. 
Quite naturally, my son grew quite confused. “What’s the matter, mom?”, I believe, were his next words, followed by an uncomfortable chuckle.
After learning the correct usage of said word, a thin sheen of sweat broke out all over my body. I had to use it. I needed to use it. This word was too perfect, to pretty for me to ignore. 
Maybe I could craft story for this word. I could write something, yeah, a novella or short story. Or perhaps I could jot the word in my notebook for safekeeping until the perfect opportunity came along. 
Or…WAIT! I pulled up my WIP and scrolled through the document, my eyes scanning, my fingers shaking, until, thankfully, I found the ideal spot. I clicked in the word, hit file and save. Whew! That was a narrowly escaped disaster.
When I sat back from my laptop, my son was staring at me, his face blank, pencil poised before his worksheet. He shook his head. “There is seriously something wrong with you,” he said.
I smiled. “I know.” 
Didn’t matter what he thought. I was happy. I had secured that word just for myself. But a few days later, I had to wonder. Am I the only one who does this? What about you? How does your obsession with words manifest? 

AJ Nuest lives in northwest Indiana with her loving husband and two beautiful children. She is the Senior Editor for Still Moments Publishing, and the author of two contemporary romance novels.
Visit her on the web at:

Let's Party…One Last Time and Giveaway

There are so many people to thank for the absolutely AWESOME party these 14 Days. First to the authors who donated books and swag. You ladies and gent Totally Rock!!!
Calvin Davis
Vonnie Davis
Janice Seagraves
Kacey Hammell
Liv Rancourt
Also to the Authors who posted. You sure know how to party! I cherish every single post I received, despite illness, technical glitches, deadlines and whatever else the cyber world wanted to throw my way I enjoyed every single author who graced the ballroom of Decadent Decisions.

There have been sexy pics, chocolate martinis, COCKtails, decadent slices of cake, a scene with the delectable Master Damien (still can't sit properly) and tons of food, fun and friends. I hate to see it end, but we've partied hard and hopefully you've enjoyed the fun as much as I have.

Although I'm not cleaning the glitter off the floor, walls or ceiling. *spies something lacy hanging from ceiling fan blade* How the heck did that get up there.

We're still partying. This is (sadly) the last day and party post on which to leave a comment. Yes, I still have swag and books left.

Please be sure to visit these authors again and again to see what they're up to in their latest projects. Also follow, like or friend them on Facebook or Twitter if you haven't already.

I hope I haven't missed anyone. A HUGE thank you to the readers and fans and friends for visiting, tweeting, sharing and liking the posts. Without you none of this would've been possible.

Thank you
Calvin Davis
Vonnie Davis

Until next time, Indulge Your Inner Romantic

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Chocolate Martinis and Illusions

Chocolate Martini 
Though I no longer drink alcoholic beverages much these days, when I do indulge it is with a Chocolate Martini that a girlfriend got me hooked on a few years ago at a Romantic Times Convention. I know Lynn will enjoy it as well, if she hasn’t tried one already. 
I claim no responsibility … it is addicting!!

Per Serving:
2 oz. Vanilla vodka
2 oz. Chocolate liqueur (I used Godiva)
2 oz. Chocolate ice cream (any brand you like)
1/2 oz. Creme de cacao
1/2 oz. piece of chocolate
Grate the chocolate into a shallow dish.  Rim the edge of a cocktail glass with a bit of the chocolate liqueur and roll the edge of the glass in the grated chocolate.  Place the glass in the freezer for a few minutes to chill and set the rim.  Combine the vodka, chocolate liqueur, creme de cacao and ice cream in a cocktail shaker half filled with ice and shake well to melt the ice cream.  Pour into the rimmed cocktail glass and garnish with the remaining grated chocolate.
Excerpt of one of my current releases, Illusions, available at Decadent Publishing…
Feeling his hands on her, his mouth taking hers, Isabella shivered. His tongue played with hers. His hands palmed her ass cheeks, bringing her hot center into contact with his jean-clad cock. She’d go over the edge in seconds if he kept it up.
Breaking free of his kiss, she craned her neck back to accommodate his exploring mouth and grasped the shoulders of his jacket, relishing for a moment in the smell of leather and hot man. Pushing the jacket off his shoulders in a hurry, her body shook at the precipice of release.
“Brady,” she breathlessly moaned. “Off…want the clothes off now. Please.”
“Bella…Christ, okay…all right.”
He moved a mere half an inch, it seemed. His torso pressed her into the bathroom door as he shook his arms, freeing himself of his jacket, and letting it fall to the floor.
Helpless to keep her hands still, Isabella ran them over his glorious chest, his abs, and made quick work of the button fly hiding his erection from her.
Dipping his head, he caught her mouth with his again, making her moan and her heart quicken.
Hands clawed at hands and the waistband of his pants, as both tried to shed his jeans in a hurry. He took a breath and looked at her, dark gray eyes smoldered. The passion and desire in his gaze made her breath hitch.
He leaned down to pull his jeans off his legs and feet and placed a barrage of kisses against her stomach. Her muscles quivered and her pussy clenched tighter, letting her know she was too close to allow him play time.
“Brady….” His name on her lips died on a moan as he took her right nipple into his warm, moist mouth, drawing it in until it was a tight bead.
Pulling his face up to hers, she breathlessly mumbled between kisses. “No time for this. I’m ready. I can’t take more. Fuck foreplay.” He moaned against her mouth. He wanted this as much as she did. “Just fuck me.”
Moving back away from her, he stared at her. His gaze unwavering. “You sure you want it now? No playing first?”
Isabella’s mind drifted to the first time they’d had sex, when his size had caused her a lot of pain from being sexually inactive for more than two years. In the couple months of being together two or three times a week, she had gotten used to his thickness and length, and always willing for more. A bit of pain at the beginning always turned to more pleasure than she thought she could bear.
Their first night together played in her mind another moment, but she banished the thoughts because of the pain Brady had been in the night he returned from New Mexico.
Focusing on him again, she reached down and grasped his cock in her hand. As she glided up and down his erection, he arched his back, forcing his hips into her hand more and more as she pumped him. A trickle of her juices slid between her thighs.
Leaning her torso forward, she licked his neck while still pumping him in her hand, eliciting a guttural moan from deep within his chest. She basked in the joy of his reactions to her.
She placed both hands on his shoulders and pulled him toward her. Chest against chest, mouth to mouth, toe to toe, she put everything she felt into their kiss, their embrace. She wanted him to know she wanted him, wanted everything he had to give. Rough, soft, hard, up against the wall. She wanted all of him.
His hands grasped her waist. He read her message clearly, and he lifted her and placed her thighs on either side of his own.
Breaking their kiss too soon for her, he pulled his head back and looked down at her body spread over his. Her shoulders against the door, lower back arched and pelvis angled over his awaiting cock, she probably looked like a wanton woman ready to fuck…hard and furiously.
“Look at yourself, Bella,” he said huskily. As he looked up at her with those intense, dark eyes, his words held her equally as captive. “Beautiful. I don’t think I’ll ever forget this image. You spread open, waiting, chest heaving. I need to be inside you. Buried to the hilt. Connected to you.”
Her body clenched at his words, desire as never before building within her. She couldn’t believe the words he had spoken. Her heart literally missed a beat, but refused to dwell on it. She wanted him. Now.
Buy a Copy -- Publisher: Decadent Publishing
Readers can learn more about my books and contact me via …

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Birthday Eye Candy for W. Lynn Chantale

A girl can’t celebrate her birthday without some yummy cake, ice cream, oh, and even yummier eye candy. Right, Lynn? *g*
I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I didn’t provide you with some yummy goodness. And they are a few of my favourite things. I would just never, ever forgive myself if I didn’t share…for a little while … *g*

Eye Candy Present # 1 …
Shemar Moore … the yummiest and tastiest piece of chocolate around! Of course, as Derek Morgan on Criminal Minds, he lights up the screen with his heroism and hunky bulk. I’m sure he’ll be willing to cuddle up with you nice and tight, and keep all nightmares at bay!

Eye Candy Present # 2 …
LL Cool J … have you heard him sing? Mmm, great voice, goes with that spectacular smile and protector attitude. He oozes sex, seduction and protectiveness. Those lips…you’ll have to investigate those for me, let me know! 

Eye Candy Present # 3 …
Zac Efron … perhaps a bit younger than you might like, but there’s a lot here to like! A gentle, kind soul I think, who just needs the right woman to help him grow into complete manhood. I’m sure you’ll know just how to help him along.

Eye Candy Present # 4 …
Colin Farrell … gruff, rough, gravelly voice…how can you not love this Irish Leprechaun. He’d probably be a lot of good luck to have around…wash your back, some massages, carry your shopping bags…hmmm, yes, you know that kind of good luck! *g*
So these four presents should keep you busy enough, for a little while, Lynn. I hope they treat you like the Princess you are and deserve to be forever!
Happy birthday, dear heart. May your year be the absolute best!

Friday, April 27, 2012

Book Spotlight- Tide of Lies by Sarah Ballance

Blurb: A devastating secret. A shocking betrayal. A deadly obsession.
Haunted by three unsolved murders, Detective Holden Whitlow is stunned when his cold case takes a heated turn. Julia Cohen, his ex-lover, is back in town, and in the face of a brutal attack she’s ready to run. No matter how tightly she holds her secrets, for Holden, turning away from the woman he’s spent a decade trying to forget isn’t any more an option than walking away from his job . . . even when it threatens to cost Julia her life.
Julia is still reeling from a past she can’t bear to face. When she becomes the target of a killer, fate throws her back into Holden’s arms, but she’s yet to recover from a truth that has stripped her of everything—and everyone—she loves. Will she tell him the secret that will destroy him, or will her lie destroy them both?
Another one.
Holden Whitlow could have done without that grim utterance from his sergeant re-entering his life. He exhaled, wishing the hot, summer sun would dissolve some of the unease weighing him down. But the scorching rays cutting through the windshield only left him hot and sticky, prompting his sunglasses to slide down his nose and his shirt to plaster against his back. The discomfort, however, didn't best the miserable prospect of walking onto a crime scene and confronting the fourth murder victim of his short career.
Two years ago, a stalker turned murderer and took three local women as victims. The cases remained unsolved. Holden had been sopping wet behind the ears at the time, but his inexperience landed him a top-notch partner in Greg Martin, the lead detective who since retired. Although the whole Barrier Shoals PD had, at some point, worked the stalker case—Martin even checking in from his living room—guilt led Holden to carry the weight of the unsolved murders solo. It dug deep under his skin, and whether or not his cold case had just been set ablaze, the heat was on.
He wasn't a math guy, but oh-for-four rang in his ears like nails on a chalkboard.
This murderer wouldn't get away.
Spying the convenience store marking the crime scene, Holden steered his Crown Vic into the lot and parked on the far edge, intending to close the last sixty feet on foot. There was no reason to hurry or risk driving over evidence. The girl was dead.
Holden's partner had beat him there, a faux pas the older detective would never let Holden live down. Detective John "Bear" Barrett surveyed the surroundings, fingers splayed on his hips, one hand in the vicinity of his badge and the other in close quarters with a Glock.
"You're late," he said, not bothering to look up as Holden neared.
Holden snorted. "I thought you were on vacation."
"Was. I came back for the show."
"I'm sure our vic appreciates your dedication to the cause," Holden said, not feeling the edge of his own humor. He cast a cursory glance around the defunct Quik-Stop. Dented gas pumps stretched in a forlorn line, islands in a sea of broken glass. Thin lines of grass snaked over the lot, marking cracks in the pavement. Holden smelled the stench of abandonment, felt the pulse of death. "Where's the body?"
Holden consulted his phone for the time. A quarter hour had passed since the call. A couple of techs had their noses to the pavement, plucking at the scattered, nearly microscopic debris of the abandoned lot with tweezers, but the coroner, David Frankel, was nowhere in sight. Short of disavowing protocol and shoving the body in his trunk, there was no way he could clear a scene in fifteen minutes. "The morgue? Already?"
Bear knelt, balancing on the balls of his feet, and cocked his head, studying the ground. Shifting his sunglasses away from his eyes, he raised an arm and motioned over a young woman from forensics.
"Make sure you catch this trail," he said, pointing first to his feet, then in a line toward the building. Without waiting for her response, he righted himself and returned the shades to his nose. "I said hospital, Whitlow. Not morgue. Considering the victim is still breathing—but barely—I don't think she'd take kindly to a tour of the basement."
"She's alive?"
Bear paced the twenty feet to the painted brick corner of the store. A metal door on the side hung slightly ajar, the word "JON" displayed with crooked, stuck-on letters. He nudged open the door wider with his foot. Seconds later, his head jerked to the side as if the stench had reached out and slapped him.
Laughing, Holden edged closer. "I could have told you not to breathe, Detective."
He pulled a penlight from his pocket and directed it inside the stall, pressing his mouth in a thin line to suppress his gag reflex. Questionable patches in various shades of brown smeared the floors, and the toilet held what appeared to be a solid mass of waste he didn't care to investigate. His quick sweep of the room came to an abrupt end at the sink, where dark crimson marred the already stained porcelain.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Holden asked, glancing to Bear, who had joined him in the doorway.
"Looks like blood to me." Bear shook his head. "I'd sure hate to be the guy sopping up DNA out of that shit hole."
Holden scratched the back of his neck, surveying the handful of officers and forensic techs scattered over the scene. "I can't imagine why anyone would want to go in there, criminal or otherwise."
That particular restroom had never been golden. When he was at the tender, scheming age of fourteen, he and his buddy, Bridger Jansen, used to buy cigarettes from an elderly—and half blind—cashier and hide in the bathroom to smoke. Fully functioning, it hadn't smelled much better than it did now.
Bear covered his nose and mouth with his forearm.
"Well, someone wanted in, and recently," he said, his voice muffled. "See a rookie due for a hazing?"
With a rueful glance through the open doorway, Holden shook his head. "That's why I don't work forensics."
"Yeah," Bear said, walking away from the building. "Someone else does the grunt work, and we get the glory. Cushy job, huh?"
Glory. Not much of that in three unsolved murders. Holden joined Bear by the curb where he stood—his foot propped on the concrete—and shook off a squirrely sense of déjà vu. No. This one was different. "She's alive, you say?"
"Catch up, Whitlow. Unconscious when they found her, but breathing. Who told you she was dead?"
Holden mentally wheeled back through the phone call from his sergeant. He hadn't specifically said the woman was dead, but the implication had been there. Another one.
"The victim, where was she?" Only a few rushed footprints disturbed the grime and . . . stuff on the bathroom floor. The victim couldn't have been there in a state of failing consciousness, which begged three questions: Where had the blood come from? Whose blood was in the bathroom . . . and how did it get there?
Pointing to a cluster of uniforms, Bear said, "Victim was balled up over there on the pavement. Kid in the jeans called it in. Said he thought he saw her breathing but was afraid to get too close. Didn't want the breeze blowing his DNA on her or something."
Holden followed Bear's gesture, pegging the kid at the other end of it for about fifteen. He was tall and scrawny, with the height of a man but none of the bulk. Head down and sans his shoes, he toed the end of a skateboard, causing it to clack against the pavement. Long, blond bangs obscured his face. "Did he see anything?"
"A lump out of the corner of his eye. He was cruising down the sidewalk when he noticed her. He came over to investigate. When he realized the object was human, he freaked and dialed 9-1-1 from his cell phone. Or that's his story, anyway."
Holden's jaw clenched. He didn't like getting his information secondhand. Bear had a good eight years of police experience over him, though, and his work was meticulous. Whatever information he had would be good. "You don't believe him?"
"It's the scene of the crime, Whitlow. I don't believe anyone yet."
Holden set his jaw. "Do you have a reason—?"
Bear grinned, and then leaned closer. "Between you and me, he's about to piss himself. Did I mention the kid was bleeding? Nice little gash on his hand. I bet my badge that blood in the bathroom is his."
"Yeah," Holden grumbled. "Empty wager. You just like toying with me."
"I'm a high stakes man." Bear grinned and cocked his head toward the restroom. "What do you want to believe he stepped in something?"
That would certainly explain why the boy was standing there in his socks. Nothing to ruin an afternoon like having your shoes hijacked as evidence. Holden tried to imagine how that excuse would have flown with his own mother, fast deciding it wouldn't. He hoped the kid was as innocent as he looked. Holden turned to Bear. "Hey, how did you get here so fast? You're making me look bad."
"Eh. My wife dragged me to the gallery around the corner for some watercolor exhibit. I drew the line at an hour-long session on interpretation, so she cut me loose to grab some coffee. I was right across the street when the call came." He held up a paper cup in mock salute.
Holden hadn't even noticed Bear's car was absent. Some detective. "I don't guess you saw anything?"
"Nope, not a thing. Everything was quiet until the sirens started blaring. I got here about the time the ambulance did. Cramer was the first uniform on the scene, but not by much. I watched him pull in. It's pretty quiet around here—especially for a Saturday afternoon."
That it was, especially for tourist season. A quaint resort town alongside the Atlantic Ocean, Barrier Shoals usually hosted tourists from May through September, and this morning shouldn't have been an exception. But other than a small crowd drawn by the police presence, the lonely corner now felt . . . dead.
Holden winced at the thought.
Bear crossed his arms and fixed his sunglass-covered stare on Holden. "You've still got your head in your ass over those murders a few years back."
"No . . . yeah." Holden blew a sharp breath and planted his hands on his head. "Hell, Barrett, I don't know. It's hard sitting on a case you never solved. The guilt doesn’t go away just because you close the file."
"Wouldn't know about that. My closure rate is pristine."
Holden rolled his eyes, dropping his hands to his hips. "If you're so smart, work the cold case. You find the guy."
"In due time, partner. We've got a hot one, so how about we stick to the living victims for now?" Bear's cell phone chirped. He consulted the screen, and then held up a finger signaling he needed a minute. Lifting the device to his ear, he said, "Barrett."
Turning to allow Bear a modicum of privacy, Holden rolled his shoulders and cocked his head, popping his neck. He was off his game, unable to shake the discord that arrived on the heels of the initial call. Another one. Clearly, Holden wasn't the only one haunted by the past. His sergeant's tone had carried the same wariness now lumped in Holden's chest. The question was, why?
What was it about this call that had set off eerie alarm bells in both their minds? The vic wasn't dead. Nothing about this scene seemed remotely connected to the others—and yet . . . Barrier Shoals was a small town. Most of the crime he handled was the minor break-ins and purse snatchings that seemed to plague the tourist season. A murder. An assault. These were rare. Rare enough to raise the sergeant's hackles. And after all the dead ends he'd been finding lately, Holden was on edge, as well.
Behind him, Bear cleared his throat. "You want to go talk to the vic? I can handle things here."
Holden turned, looking at Bear in surprise. "Me? It's not like you to give up a bedside encounter with a woman."
Bear dropped his cell phone in his pocket and shrugged, his self-proclaimed lady-killing grin in a lazy sprawl across his face. "You have a point there, but I'm not into sloppy seconds."
The dig worked. Holden froze. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You got me, Whitlow, but our vic is awake. Seems the lovely Julia Cohen is asking for you by name."
Sarah and her husband of almost fifteen what he calls "long, long" years live on the mid-Atlantic coast with their six young children, all of whom are perfectly adorable when they're asleep.  She often jokes that she writes to be around people who will listen to her, but her characters aren't much better than her kids.  Fortunately, her husband is quite supportive, having generously offered to help her research "the good parts" . . .  and she's never had to ask twice.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Sinful Truth and a Giveaway

As I sit here at 6:15p.m. on a Monday, desperately clutching my mug of coffee to stay awake because it’s grey and drizzly outside, I’m struck by a sense of ennui.

Pointless yawning sighs.
Until my cat knocks over his entire bowl of food, causing me to slosh my coffee all over myself and scream loud enough to wake the poodle, causing him to bark and leap at the door like marauding zombies are upon us and this ten-pound curly-headed canine is the last hope for humanity. Tears. I have tears, and palpitations, and an asthma attack.
Yeah. I don’t do with being startled very well.
One might even say I’m a bit of a weenie. A wuss. A total chickenshit.
But I’m okay with that. I’ve put in my time. I played tough in high school, when my two best friends made it their mission to watch every scary movie that ever existed. 
All the Halloweens, Friday the 13ths, Pet Sematarys, Childrens of the Corns, Hellraisers, Screams, Creepshows, and damned if I can remember what else they forced me to watch through cajoling, whining, ridicule, and straight up bullying. As a result, even to this day I become nearly catatonic at the sight of the Scream mask. I’d post a picture, but then I’d never be able to come back to this blog. And that would be sad, because I wouldn’t be able to give you a copy of my scary book.
I wrote a scary book. 
It’s sexy too, but it’s a LOT scary. It’s an erotic horror romance entitled SINFUL TRUTH. In homage to all the creepy films my besties forced me to watch, I’ve written a book so scary that it gave me nightmares the last time I read it. A short excerpt for you:
I skidded to a halt, unable to process what my eyes were showing me. Rafe dropped to his knees beside the now-dead woman and ripped the remnants of her shirt open, baring her bloody breasts. Davis crossed the crinkling leaves until he reached them, then he and Rafe lowered their heads to the wound. I turned away as the wet sucking noises started and my feet pounded the earth without my brain saying go. 
The woods got darker as I ran, my panicked breaths too loud. Quiet, Bry, they’ll hear you! If they hear you then you’ll be next! 
But I couldn’t stop the desperate sob that burst from my chest when footsteps started pounding behind me. 
“You fucking bitch! I told you to stay in the goddamn car!” 
Tears streamed from my eyes as I ran, jumping over a fallen log just in time to avoid tripping. A muffled curse behind me indicated Rafe might not have been so lucky. 
My lungs burned and my legs ached but I couldn’t stop running. Which way was the car? If I could get there first, I could get the hell out of here. I shouldn’t have gotten out of that damn car in the first place. I should have stayed put. But then would I really know what he was capable of? Oh god, what could I do? He’d killed someone and he knew I saw him do it. He’d kill me next. 
The fickle moon hid behind another cloud, making it impossible to see more than a few inches ahead. I knocked into trees, branches grabbed at my exposed skin, the stinging pain lashing me forward. I was lost, so very lost. I couldn’t hear what was behind me. I couldn’t tell what was in front of me. Terror drove me on for three more steps. 
Unseen hands gripped my arm and clapped over my mouth, smothering my scream before it began.
So what do you think? Love it? Hate it? Want to read it? Let me know below, and we’ll select one random commenter for a FREE ebook copy of SINFUL TRUTH! 
And in the meantime, I’ll be cleaning coffee off my computer and cat food off the floor. The glamorous life of an erotic romance author…

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Hump Day Inspiration with Em Petrova

I set eyes on this hunky cowboy and knew he was my next hero. His name is Jens Robertson and he's currently in love with Laurel, his best friend's girl--unknowingly. When he finds out, sparks fly. A deal is struck to share Laurel. Can they make it work?

Check out my latest releases:

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Her Highland Champion and Birthday Wishes

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my new friend, Lynn! Thanks so much for allowing me to join your party!
Today I'd like to talk about favorite birthday presents. Sure you can share with us what your favorite present has been, but I'm going to talk about what would be the perfect present for me! What I'd love for a birthday present is a week's reservation in Glenfinnan, Scotland. This is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. I've been lucky enough to visit twice now, but both trips were only a night or two. That's definitely not long enough! For sure the best present would be a week to explore more of this amazing place, which inspired my contemporary Scottish romantic suspense, HER HIGHLAND CHAMPION. 
The village is small, with around 100 residents according to the Glenfinnan Community Council. It has 2 beautiful hotels that are run by wonderful people who are genuinely interested in your comfort. The Prince's House and the Glenfinnan House Hotel. This second hotel was the inspiration for my hero's bed & breakfast too, and I even got help during the writing of my book from the hotel's manager who answered all my questions! There are lots of things to do around here, such as taking a walk around the Glenfinnan Viaduct, visiting the Glenfinnan Monument, shopping in the gift shop, and cruising along the loch. Of course, you can always hang out in one of the lovely common rooms in either hotel and have a pint or two. When I stayed at the Prince's House, a local musician came in for a drink and on the spur of the moment he pulled out his fiddle and played for us. When I stayed at the Glenfinnan House Hotel, I sat talking with several of the locals about life in the village and tried their local beer. While on this last trip, I handwrote 40 pages on a manuscript! 

As you can see from my pictures, Glenfinnan is a truly beautiful and relaxing place to visit. So, yes, the perfect present for me would be a whole week in this glorious place. I bet I'd get quite a bit of writing done AND I'd be so relaxed! 

Your turn. What's your idea of a perfect birthday present? It can be one you've already received or one you'd love to get. I'll give a free copy of my book, HER HIGHLAND CHAMPION, to one commenter!

A Decadent Honor Guard story….
Heather Winchester leads a charming life. With good friends, a beautiful flat in one of the most amazing cities in the world, and a promising future once she finishes her Ph.D, she is finally pursuing her own dreams instead of catering to everyone else’s…except she doesn’t remember any of it.
Malcolm Fraser has returned to his Highland village to forget his failings as a professional bodyguard. Believing he could just lose himself in the mundane activities of running his bed & breakfast, he finds a woman’s lifeless body by the loch instead….
Captivated by Heather as she regains her memory, Malcolm is thrown into the line of duty. As danger comes knocking on their door, will he be strong enough to love her and keep her safe? 

COCKtails, Torpedoes and Ice Cream…Oh My

I’m excited to be guesting with W.Lynn today and getting to celebrate birthdays with her. I know she’s not been feeling the best, so I wanted my post to be special and fun. Oh and hot. I love a hot post. So... What’s something hot that has to do with birthdays?

Well, I found some fun candles... couple different kinds. Might make the cake rather fun. Definitely lights up the place.  

Oh and I brought some necklaces we can all share. Nice and festive.
And for COCKtail hour.... hee hee. What a great shaker! 
I’ve got some great playing cards, some streamers to brighten up the place, and a few other things. I think a rousing game of pin the Torpedo on the Sailor would be fun!

Now, what would I love for my favorite sexy birthday... presents? Gerard Butler, Tom Hiddleston or Eric Szmanda wrapped neatly in a bow. Better yet, all three in the same bow. Without clothes. Yeah...  WLynn, who would you pick?
Where would we go for my birthday? Steakhouse. Or sea food. Filet mignon. Yummmm. What’s your birthday food poison, WLynn?
I’m not a cake person, but I do like ice cream, so how about we share those candles and whip up a big ‘ole batch of ice cream? We can put those candles to use.  The two scoops would be great added decoration.  Sound like a plan?
I say it’s time to celebrate! Who wants to pin the torpedo first?

Want to know more about Wendi Zwaduk? Here you go:
I always dreamt of writing the stories in my head. Tall, dark, and handsome heroes are my favorites, as long as he has an independent woman keeping him in line. I earned a BA in education at Kent State University and currently hold a Masters in Education with Nova Southeastern University.   
I love NASCAR, romance, books in general, Ohio farmland, dirt racing, and my menagerie of animals. I’m published with Total-E-Bound, Changeling Press, Liquid Silver Books and The Wild Rose Press. Come join me for this fantastic journey!  

And I'll throw in a copy of When You're With Me as a giveaway to a commenter. 

A topless dancer and a cynical cop doesn’t equal a lifetime love...or does it?
  There’s more to Jude Nelson than just a sequined thong. She’s got big dreams to become an artist. There’s one tiny wrinkle in her plan—she’ll never forget the bloody image of her friend’s battered body in the dumpster.     
    Who can a nude dancer turn to for help? Certainly not a hardened undercover cop...
    Detective Drew Alwyn is on the case to find out who murdered his good friend and fellow officer. But the moment he sees Jude, he can’t look away. He has to decide which is more important—his dedication to his job or the girl who holds his bruised and battered heart.
Will these two opposites come together to solve the case or will their desire consume them?
Reader Advisory: This story contains scenes of bondage, mentions of drug use by secondary characters, silk, sequins and art supplies used in foreplay, voyeurism and a little spanking for good measure.
Available NOW from Total-E-Bound!