Tuesday, July 17, 2012

An Adventurous Spirit with Tabitha Rayne


Thank you so much for letting me hang out at your place today Ms Chantale!
Adventurous spirit
Adventures! I always wanted to be an adventurer - the thrill of finding treasure or scaling a mountain - how exciting. Surviving on only my wits and what I could catch - I was sure I'd be brilliant at it. Then I went camping. Don't get me wrong, I loved sitting around a campfire waiting 2 hours for a pot of water to boil for a cup of tea, swatting away flies and biting insects, only to wake soaked with a flapping collapsed tent endeavouring to carry me away with it in the storm which had suddenly came from nowhere - I loved it, oh yes! But, one night's torture is very different from a month long expedition. I'm just not sure I could actually hack it... In my novel, A Clockwork Butterfly, my heroes have to spend some time in the wild and I had great fun writing about their antics - of course, lucky for them, it didn't rain and they had horses to share the load - so I've discovered, I can live out my adventuring fantasy - if only from the comfort of my own laptop - that's not cheating is it?

A Clockwork Butterfly
by Tabitha Rayne - Futuristic Erotic Romance


Blurb:
Lovers torn apart by duty…will Angelo and Lena be reunited?
Mankind is close to extinction. Toxins have all but wiped out the male population. The remaining fertile men are housed in manors where their seed is collected.
Lena Lee is a new collector with a rare pheromone believed to reignite human fertility. She's assigned a male who's predicted to be her perfect match.
Angelo, a clockwork butterfly maker, is held captive, his essence harvested daily by Lena. Over time, the couple begins to fall in love, something which is strictly prohibited. When their forbidden love is discovered, Lena is banished from the manor.
Torn apart by the duty that brought them together, Lena and Angelo must find a way back to each other. But even if Angelo manages to escape, he doesn't know where to find Lena. Will following the path of the clockwork butterfly lead him to his true love?
Content Warning: strong language, BDSM, and graphic sexual content, including m/f, f/f, and f/f/m sexual interaction
Watch a trailer for A Clockwork Butterfly here!
A little taster…
Lena hardly breathed as her fingertips reached out to the tiny flapping creature. Could it be? She trembled, trying to stifle her excitement with the fear that it might disintegrate beneath her touch, just as it had nightly in the dreams that plagued her.
Closing her eyes, she waited to be jolted into the reality of her cold, empty room. But it was different this time; her fingers flinched as they brushed something real. Lena opened her eyes and picked up the golden butterfly, laying it in her palm. Slowly, the tiny wings stopped beating.
Lena realized her lungs were at bursting point and exhaled up into the ceiling, fearful of sweeping the treasure away with her breath. She studied the lifeless creature carefully. It was so beautiful, so intricate.
"At last," she whispered into her quivering hands, bowing over with relief. "I've been waiting so long."
* * * *
Lena James Lee waited excitedly in the bustling throng of women all the same age as her. They had been picked up by the coach from various stops throughout the country and most were rumpled, tired, and anxious. They all knew why they were there; their fates had been decided by the Archmatrias long before they had known anything of the manors or what it meant to be a collector.
Lena's mother had been so proud; she was the only one in her whole community who had been given the special invitation to attend training.
"Remember, Lena," her mother had advised quite forcefully, "it's not just your life that depends on this."
Lena had hopped on the coach without a care in the world. Now though, rumors swelled, starting with hushed whispers and giggling until all-out mayhem ensued.
"They make you wear nothing but a golden thong and you have to crawl around on the floor, parading yourself," Mae, a loud, stunningly beautiful girl shrieked.
"Are there really men? Do we get to see them?" Lena tentatively asked her in a rare quiet moment.
"Honey, we do more than see them." Mae cackled and swiped Lena playfully on the back of the head.
Lena felt her cheeks burn, it was clear that the other young women knew a lot more than she did.
"Are you really telling me you don't know what you signed up for?" Mae leaned in to Lena. "Has no one ever told you what that's for?" she whispered lavasciously into Lena's ear and slid a hand up the inside of her thigh.
The truth was, Lena had been brought up with great solemnity about becoming a collector. All the girls were vetted and tested from a very young age and if they showed promise in any of the four categories, their life was pretty much mapped out for them from that day. Lena had been pinpointed as a good candidate for a collector because of her striking looks, poise, and perfect proportions.
"Lena, my dear." Mae looked at her intently. "I think your mother followed the rules on abstinence and denial a little too carefully!"
"What do you mean?"
Mae rolled her eyes. "I've never met anyone so sexually unaware in all my life! You must be at least twenty-one, and I bet you've never even pleasured yourself, let alone anyone else."
Lena recalled the delight on her friends' faces when she'd brought out her prize-winning lemon meringue pies at tea parties.
"Yes, I have," she said defiantly, knowing in her heart that confectionary was not what Mae was talking about…
Bio - Tabitha Rayne has been told she is quirky, lovely and kinky – not necessarily in that order or by the same person. She writes erotic romance and as long as there’s a love scene – she’ll explore any genre.
Her short stories, published and upcoming, are included in anthologies from Xcite, Oysters & Chocolate, Cliess, Ravenous Romance and House of Erotica. She has two stand alone titles from Beachwalk Press.
More buy links

Monday, July 16, 2012

Book Spotlight-Blessed Homecoming by Lorraine Nelson


The hometown girl and the handyman both carry emotional baggage. Are they destined to remain friends or is there room in their hearts for more?
***
Wendy Danforth is preparing to be a single mom, her ex-husband in jail for spousal abuse.  She returns to her hometown, to renew her faith and to heal. Caught off guard by the handyman in residence, attraction hits, swift and piercing, but she quells her unruly emotions, in no hurry to get involved in another relationship. Besides, at almost nine months pregnant, she wasn’t exactly looking her best.

Jake Roberts, hired to renovate the Danforths’ house, took one look at his employer’s daughter and wanted to run far and fast. He hadn’t possessed an ounce of faith or been around a pregnant woman in three long years, not since his wife and unborn son died in an auto accident.  They become friends, and when her ex-husband escapes custody, he steps up to protect Wendy and her unborn child. Will the danger and close proximity test their friendship? Or will it lead to more? Can Jake regain his lost faith, or will it elude him forever?
Blessed Homecoming - Excerpt
Jake found it hard to believe what he'd overheard, what that sweet, caring woman had endured at the hands of a man who had vowed to cherish and protect her. He'd been heading down to retrieve a package of wood screws when he heard Wendy crying and didn't want to interrupt. He didn't want to eavesdrop either, but her pain-wracked voice kept him an unwilling captive as she relayed events.

Broken bones, cracked ribs, dislocated shoulder and bruising over seventy-five per cent of her body. Then to heal and find out she was pregnant! Why would she be so happy about having that man's baby? Surely, she couldn't still love him after all that.

Hearing her speak of her faith in the midst of all that suffering struck a rusty chord inside his gut. Somehow, deep down, her quiet acceptance and determination spoke to him in ways that expensive therapy had not. She was a survivor, he'd give her that, but if her friend hadn't found her—no, he wouldn't go there. He couldn't. Divine intervention, she'd called it. He called it lucky.

She'd come home to heal and build a new life for herself and the baby. Surrounded by family and friends, she'd never have to fear for her life again. Although he'd barely known her twenty-four hours and had a definite aversion to getting involved in her problems, he'd do what he could to help her adjust to living in a small town again. If the gossips wanted to pair them off, so be it. He'd been through worse—much worse.

He sat on the step with his head in his hands, undecided whether to let her know he'd overheard or pretend ignorance. How could he ignore the pain she'd suffered? More surprisingly, he realized he wanted to be there for her, to prove that not every man was prone to acts of violence. Although, like her father, he'd had some thoughts on what he'd like to do to her ex if he ever had the chance.
She took the matter out of his hands when she sat a couple steps below him and, placing a hand on his knee, asked, "How much did you hear?"

His head jerked up and he searched her eyes, expecting to see anger and disgust at his audacity, but there was none. "Pretty much all of it. I'm sorry, Wendy. I didn't intend to eavesdrop, but I didn't want to barge in on you either."

"Are you all right?"

"You're asking me? After all you've suffered, I should be asking you that question."

"My suffering ended the day he was found guilty. All that's left now is the sentencing in two weeks' time and I don't need to be there for that."

"But you're expecting his child. How is that not suffering, considering what he put you through?"

"Every life is a gift from God. I don't always understand His methods, but at least I have one good thing resulting from a failed marriage."

"Did you love him that much?"
"At first, yes, very much. He was the man I'd always dreamed about, kind, caring and it didn't hurt that he was gorgeous to boot." She smiled at the memory, then sobered. "The love died a slow death when the abuse started. He always made me feel like it was my fault, until the day I ended up in the hospital with a broken arm and didn't go back. I realized then my dreams of a happy ever after were never going to happen."

"What did you do? Where did you go?"

"A social worker at the hospital made a couple of calls and arranged a bed in a shelter for abused women. My arm being broken meant I couldn't work for a couple weeks, but when I returned, I found out from my boss, Emma, that he'd been haunting the place, waiting for me to show up. She'd had to call the police on a couple of occasions.

She became my best friend. Emma encouraged me to lay charges and file a restraining order against him, which I did. I also filed for divorce. He didn't show up in court, didn't contest it, so the judge granted the petition based on the abuse."

"I would think so," he huffed in agreement.

"I saw Clyde around from time to time after that, and he never made any effort to approach me, for which I was thankful. But the night before the divorce became final, he showed up after I got home from work. The rest, as they say, is history."

"Can you really put it all behind you that easily?"

"Believe me, Jake, it hasn't been easy. Easy started yesterday when Mama met me at the bus stop with her arms wide open. Until then, I'd hoped, but wasn't at all certain of my welcome, circumstances being what they are."

He placed a hand over hers where it still rested on his knee. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here. You are one remarkably strong lady and I'm honored to be your friend."

"My faith is what's strong. I had to believe the Lord has a purpose for me in this life. That's when I decided it was time to come home. I'd been away too long." She gently disentangled her hand and rose to her feet, slightly wobbly at first, causing him to reach out and grab her upper arms to steady her. "Thank you."
Thank you for helping me celebrate this new release. Please follow along on my blog tour and comment daily for several chances to win a free download of Blessed Homecoming. Remember to leave your email address so I can reach you. :) Winner to be announced on July 31st.

I so love hearing from my readers! It’s important to know what works and doesn’t work for them as I continue to craft stories of love and mystery. You can find me at:

Purchase Link:
http://www.breathlesspress.com/blessed-homecoming

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Christmas in July-The Santa Drag


The Santa Drag (tag line)
“Things aren't always what they seem, and this shopping mall Santa has a secret that only the love of her life can reveal.”

The Santa Drag
by Liv Rancourt
Then there was the year I played Santa. I’m an actress, remember, and since the economy was lousy, I was broke. I was between gigs, tired of pulling lattes and ready to audition for anything. The ad first appeared online in early September. For a couple weeks, I ignored it, sponging off my savings and looking for something more, well, gender-appropriate. Then I did the math and realized that I needed a paying gig or I’d be on the street by December. I called in a favor and borrowed a tricked out Santa costume…..
…. On a particularly busy Saturday, I was tired and thinking more about a double shot of espresso than I was about the pile of kids who wanted to sit in my lap. The weak winter sun was making its circle over the atrium where the Christmas tree was set up and my roommate Shauna was buzzing by every so often to giggle at me from the sidelines. Shauna had gone through college with me and now she taught English to high school students. It gave her the best dinner time stories of any of my friends. Teenagers will say anything. She was trying to get all of her Christmas shopping done in one day, which was a good trick for someone with as many fertile brothers and sisters as she had.
“Come sit up on Santa’s lap,” Maya said, interrupting my brief mental vacation. We were in the Christmas Village, which was a collection of six pseudo-Tyrolean houses done at one- quarter scale, surrounding an oversized golden throne, with phony snow covering the mall’s tile floor and even phonier presents scattered around the throne. 
“No,” said a little girl with a stubborn crease between her brows. She was dressed in Seattle’s version of Christmas formal, a stiff red cotton velvet dress, likely made from organic fabric dyed with beets and rose hips. On her feet were two-toned leather MaryJanes that probably cost sixty-five dollars. At least the green corkscrew ribbons tied around her blond pigtails looked like they belonged on a child. I made myself as approachable as possible, getting down to her level and producing a big smile. 
“Come on, Thula,” her mother said, tapping one French manicured nail on her cell phone. “Go sit up there with Santa so we can take your picture.”  She sounded as if this was just one more thing to knock off the list.
“It’s okay, sweetie.” Maya put on her encouraging smile.  Maya was a tiny thing, barely bigger than most of the kids we saw, with long dark hair, a tiny gold hoop pierced through one nostril and bugged-out eyes that looked like they’d been molded out of chocolate. She was as non-threatening as an adult could possibly be. The kid stared at her and bit down on her bottom lip. At least she wasn’t crying. Yet.
I sat back down on my fancy Christmas throne and held out a hand. Sometimes less is more when you’re dealing with preschoolers. “You want to come tell Santa what to bring you for Christmas?” I asked, keeping my voice pitched down somewhere under my sternum. It helped that I had one of those raspy lady voices that earned me a permanent spot in the tenor section whenever I sang in choir. 
“No.”
This went on for several minutes. The kid went from biting her bottom lip to letting it pooch out and tremble. Never a good sign. Finally, after a ton of coaxing, she was more-or-less close to me, squatted down on the other side of one of the big pretend presents that ringed my throne. That was good enough for her mom, and Maya snapped a picture. 
When she was done, the little girl glared at me from behind the big glossy red ribbon that topped the present. “Bring me a baby brother,” she bellowed and took off running out of the Christmas village. 
Mom gave me a meaner glare than the kid had. Hey, she shouldn’t have been mad at me. I hadn’t made any promises. The kid ran full tilt through the crowds of shoppers, then stopped in the middle of an open space and started to cry. Her sobs echoed around the smoky glass dome that covered us and we could hear her carrying on until she and her mom got swallowed up by the Ross store at the end of the north hallway. The whole place fell into a bit of a hush when she was gone, as if we were all exhaling in relief. This close to Christmas, none of us needed a crying child to ratchet up the stress level. 
A young mother was next in line. She came into the Christmas Village and positioned a slightly damp baby on my lap, moving as if something hurt. The baby was so young that Mom still looked a little pregnant under her loose denim-blue shirt. Or maybe she was already pregnant with number two. I’m not so good with the principles of baby production. Well, I understand the basic concepts, but haven’t had that many opportunities to put them into practice. 
The brief quiet was interrupted by a yodeling squeal that I recognized. I stared into the crowd until I caught Maya looking at me funny. I stuck a smile on that was as close to my normal jolly-Santa shtick as I could get, and she settled back down behind her camera. The reason for my roommate Shauna’s squeal had me completely rattled. In the two or three beats I’d looked out from behind my wire-rimmed glasses as Mack-the-girl, I’d seen Shauna giving someone a big hug. A really handsome someone. Joe McBride. Joseph Timothy McBride. The actor. The real-life, got a soap opera gig and several commercials and you saw him in Scream 2 actor. The only guy I ever really loved.
Find Liv Rancourt here

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Christmas in July-Christmas Spirit

Still trying to beat the heat? It's Christmas in July here at Decadent Decisions. Chef has a Buche de Noel on the buffet table and he tried to make a fruitcake, but we had words over that. *indistinct mumbling from kitchen, stalks to door* I don't care if it is soaked in Tyrell's super secret aged rum. Nobody wants that gawdawful mess of dried fruit!
*pats stray hair into place*
Sorry about that, Chef is still a little…*squints at a tray containing slices of fruit dotted cake* Excuse me a moment. *grabs tray from server* I need to handle something in the kitchen real quick. In the meantime enjoy an excerpt from Christmas Spirit by Liberty Blake.


Tagline:

Cross a Christmas phobic male with a caterer with Christmas bells on...can she ignite the Christmas spirit in him?
Excerpt:

What the hell had just happened? One minute he was in heaven tasting the sweet nectar of the gods. The next the little vixen was running down the subway stairs. Harry pulled his wits together and gave chase. The turnstile wouldn’t budge. He was about to jump it when a voice said, “I wouldn’t if I was you. It’s a serious crime to steal from the Commonwealth. Buy a pass if you want to ride the train.”

Harry turned to find a T officer standing directly behind him. The man pointed a nightstick toward a row of machines. “You can get one over there in the Charlie machines.”

Card in hand, he was back at the turnstile in time to see the train Elle had jumped on pulling away from the station.

Damn. He didn’t know her last name.

Liberty Blake's Whereabouts!
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Friday, July 13, 2012

The Estate by J. Paulette Forshey


 Today I have fellow Whispers Author, J. Paulette Forshey. Let's make her feel welcome here at Decadent Decisions. Chef and Tyrell are manning the buffet and open bar. If you don't see something or run out of strawberries for the chocolate fountain, just say the word.

1. As an author, do you take time to read? If so, what do you like to read and who is/are your favorite author/s?

Reading is my reward. I pick a task and when it's finished I allow myself so many chapters until the next job. I love vampires so to name a few of my favorite authors, Elaine Bergstrom, Maggie Shayne, Katie MacAlister, Lynsay Sands, Kerrelyn Sparks, and Rosemary Laurey.
 
2. How do you stay motivated when the Muse is uncooperative?

I try to help the muse with music appropriate to what I'm writing. Recently I've been working on a piece where the Tango is important to the plot, so I listen to Tango music and watch Tango clips. I also burn a scented candle like lavender, and sometimes have a glass or two of wine. If that doesn't work I get the whip out.

3. If you could go anywhere in the world on a romantic getaway, what would you do and where would you go?
 
I love going on a cruise to the Caribbean. At home I take care of everyone, on a cruise everyone takes care of me. I can eat, sleep, have an umbrella drink, get a massage, shop, and explore exotic places with white sand and endless blue water.
 
4. What is the hardest thing for you to write?

A children's book. I once wrote a story for third graders, and keeping in the parameters for someone that age and using vocabulary they understand was the hardest thing I've ever written.

5. If you could live the life of one of your characters who would you be?

If I can only pick one it would be Allyson Weston from my novel, The Tarczal Alliance, she is feisty, strong, intelligent, beautiful, and gets Logan Kincaid all to herself. I'd like to be any of my heroines who spar with my Tarczal vampires and end up winning their hearts.
 
6. The tag line on my blog is ‘Indulge Your Inner Romantic.’ What do you do to indulge?
 
A glass of wine and a good dinner, preferably a meal I don't have to cook, and naps. I don't usually sleep very well and a good thirty minutes nap once or twice a day is a blessing to my sanity.
 
 
The Estate
 
At a ghostly southern estate Cuilean Kelley is about to have his reality and dreams collide. 
 
Night after night Cuilean Kelley's dreams are haunted by an exotic woman. His days are preoccupied searching for a set of rare books. Clues to the mythical tomes lead him to a tiny parish outside of Savanna. He unearths not only the volumes, but discovers the woman of his dreams is real, and being held in a spectral prison guarded by an ancient lost civilization. Her freedom depends on Cuilean and the books connection to a ghostly southern estate.
 
Excerpt: The Estate
"Oh, my, isn't he a little biscuit?"
Cuilean bit the inside of his mouth, on the comment of his person, to keep from laughing.
One of the well coiffed white-hairs snickered. "My dear, I bet there's nothing "little" about him."
What was that old saying he mused, something about snow on the mountain top but fire underneath. He glanced over and back quickly to make sure, yep, they were seventy-something and not seventeen.
"Yes, he's certainly a tall one must be six foot two or three."
"Honey, I wasn't referring to his height and he's at least six four if not taller."
It took the southern belle a minute to comprehend. "What? Oh! Mildred get you mind out of the gutter."
"She'd have to step up to have her mind in the gutter," another scoffed.
Snickering giggles smothered behind fine linen handkerchiefs reached his ears.
"That olive skin and that thatch of black hair, hmmmmm."
"The boy needs a haircut and a bath," snapped one.
"I wouldn't mind giving him both. I'd just love to scrub his back…and his front."
"Did you see those green eyes? Like fresh spring grass they are. I'd kill for those thick black lashes he has, well if I had those I'd never have to buy mascara again."
"I read in a book once about Celtic heritage, they called men with his coloring Black Celt's. Doesn't that sound so romantic?"
"Bessie May what kind of book was that?"
Cuilean noted from the minute long hesitation Bessie May wasn’t in any hurry to answer. That and the way she crossed her arms over her more than ample bosom and pursed her lips tight. His grandmother, red-haired and pale-skinned, had called him a Black Celt when he was young. She told him he was a throwback to the marauders who pillaged, and plundered the land before finally claiming it as theirs. And after the women of the tribes they ravaged, tamed those same raiders.
"Bessie May, we're waiting."
Hand clutching her handkerchief to the base of her throat, Bessie May stood for a moment more before blurting. "It was one of those romance books. So there."
Her friends closed their eyes and shook their heads for a moment as though in prayer. "You really need to get out more," suggested one lady.
"I wonder why he's here."
"Doesn't look like he could afford to buy even the smallest, most worthless, item on the auction block."
Cuilean bit back another grin staring straight ahead. No, he supposed he didn't, wearing a much worn jean-jacket, a faded blue work shirt, tattered jeans, and thin-soled tennis shoes. Right now he probably looked like something the proverbial cat drug in, especially after traveling in these clothes for several days. He listened, decided which one would hold the most information, turned and locked his gaze with hers.
"Good morning, ma'am, and ladies." He gave them a courtesy nod. "I'm Cuilean Keeley."
 
About the Author: J. Paulette is an award winning author, who lives in a small Ohio town with her husband, and a Basset Hound, who thinks she's a princess. Her mornings belong to her writing, her days are spent loving her five grandbabies, and her nights belong to her husband, the inspiration for her heroes. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Central Ohio Fiction Writers, and several other groups.  She also writes under the name of Genevieve Delacroix. If you want to find out more about her or contact her go to:
 
Twitter @ForsheyJ
J. Paulette Forshey's next book, "A Tango Trinity" will be out later this year first as an e-book and later in paperback form in the anthology "Three To Tango". Her e-books can be purchased at: www.whispershome.comand amazon.com