Guest Blogger - Cat Kelly

Scandal-wracked playboy, Charlie Marchetti, arrives in New York two days before his brother's wedding, determined to prove he's a reformed man, reliable, responsible and—yeah, all those good 'R' adjectives. No trouble, no drama and no mistakes. Ah, the best laid plans...

First, the airline lost his luggage. Second, all five of his ex-wives are coming to the wedding, probably just to remind Charlie he's an ass who takes nothing seriously and will die alone and unloved. Oh, and third, he has no date for the wedding.

Then he meets Persey Chancellor at lost luggage. Within minutes she's summed him up as a "bastard" and a "pervert". Damn it, but he's intrigued. With gum in her hair and tattoos up her arm, this uninhibited, potty-mouthed stranger could be his shocking trump card —an ultimate prank on the ex-wives.

Can the man dubbed "Charming Charlie" by the paparazzi, convince Persey to spend two days posing as his unlikely girlfriend? Hey, he'll do whatever it takes.

But the last laugh might just be on him.

Be Warned: anal sex, spanking

Excerpt:

He took her to Marchetti's to find some more clothes—including the lingerie he'd forgotten—and she was thrilled to have an entire, empty and closed department store to herself. Again she wanted to know if he'd done this many times before.

"Actually, this is a first."

"Nah! Lying bastard."

"Truth." He put a hand to his heart. "Never came to the family store after hours with a date."

Persey the Tattooed, Potty-Mouth Goddess spun around from the rack of bras she was perusing. "A date?" She snorted loudly at that idea. "I haven't agreed to be your date yet."

"True. But I can be very persuasive."

She shot him a dark, heated look. "I bet."

"So why not just say yes and come to my brother's wedding with me?"

"You said you'd pay me."

He followed her around the racks, strangely reluctant to let her get too far away from him. "I'm buying you a full wardrobe. Doesn't that count?"

"I said I'd pay you back, as soon as I get some cash."

And when would that be, he wondered.

"I must be the weirdest person you ever asked out, Marchetti."

"Absolutely." Why pretend? He was still trying to figure all this out himself.

She went back to the bras and shot him a sideways look. "So what size tits do you think I have? You estimated everything else and you weren't far off."

With her straightforward comments the woman had a habit of making him feel like a shy twelve-year old boy again. Since she wasn't wearing anything under that wrap-around dress he could see her taut nipples pushing against the fabric as she arched her back and put her hands on her waist. He'd been trying to miss them. Now she made it impossible.

Charlie scratched the back of his neck. "34 B." Perfectly shaped, ripe pears nestled under the material, nipples primed. Damn. It was a long time since he'd tongued a nipple and then buried his face between a firm pair of breasts. The hot surge of want was unstoppable. His cock was alert, as it had been since she walked out of the bedroom in that dress. Since she was more curvy than he'd expected it was slightly too small for her and clung in all the best places. Or worst, depending on your point of view.

She rolled her eyes. "Spot on. Not."

"See! I'm really not the ladies' man they say I am. I can't even judge a bra size from a distance."

"Maybe you're not a boob man?"

"Oh, I like boobs."

Laughter rolled out of her. "Funny. I thought you might be gay when I first saw you."

"So that's why you came with me."

"Yep." She wriggled her ass, doing a funny little dance before him. "Or a male model. You look like you should be in black and white, leaning back in a speedboat with spray behind you and wind ruffling your cherubic locks." Glancing over her shoulder she giggled huskily, still enjoying her dance and humming now too.

Deliberately or not, the woman was teasing him, taunting with her body as she raised her arms overhead, stretching, arching her spine further. Just the way he'd imagined her in the shower earlier.

"Please stop doing that," he said finally, his voice low and tight.

"Why?"

Oh, she knew why all right. He glared.

Persey came closer, approaching from the other side of the circular clothes rack. "You can feel my boobs if you want and guess again."

"Do you always go around telling strangers to feel you up?"

A darkness, mournful and opaque as a widow's veil suddenly dropped over her green eyes. "Actually I'm used to being groped and they don't wait to be asked." It was a brief moment of gravity and then the sultry twinkle returned. "So you're special. I want you to feel my boobs, Marchetti. I invite you." She was close now, her face turned up to him. "It's payment for helping me out today. And I kind of like you."

"Kind of like me?" he sputtered.

"You were nice to me. I'm returning the favor."

"I appreciate that." This had to be a joke, he thought suddenly. Was this some scheme to get a really juicy photo of him? He eyed her warily. "Who are you?"

"Persephone Chancellor, of course."

"Are you a reporter? They planted you, didn't they?"

"Oh, Christ, yes. You got me, mister. I'm a honey trap."

"Show me your passport." He wanted to see her profession.

"It's back at the hotel. Now do you want to feel my boobs or not? I don't make a habit of this."

"You do realize there are security cameras all over this store."

"So what? It's your store. And these are my boobs." She grabbed his wrists and brought his hands to her breasts. "Don't be so bloody shy."

That was a new one. He'd never been accused of "shy" before.

Immediately he felt the hard peaks pushing at his palms. Her full breasts were warm and more than a handful. He couldn't resist spreading his long fingers, cupping and lightly squeezing the mouth-watering flesh.

She moaned softly and teetered on her heels. "That feels good, Marchetti. Don't stop."

Charlie repeated the squeeze. He ran his thumbs over her nipples, brushing them gently, then swirling his forefingers around them, tickling her areolas through the soft fabric. His cock stretched and filled in response to the signal sent by those hardened, tempting nipples. He knew he'd soon need to adjust his pants it if this kept up, so he took his hands off her.

"36 C," he said.

"Wrong again."

"I'm too distracted."

Abruptly she reached out and placed her hand over the bulge of his cock. "Yeah, so I see. You need to do something about this."

Other Books in the NYC Confidential series:
The Truth About Numbnuts and Chubbs
Falling for Sir
Whatever It Takes

Sexy Man Monday

Short and sweet post today...

Abs of steel. Gotta love them. Or at least I do.

Here's a few of my favorites (of course the first was just for affect! He can be my super man anyday!)

Mooches!
~Alex

 

Sunday Snippet #21

Click Cover to Purchase from Amazon

Happy Sunday!  I'm sharing a piece from my new release, Falling For Him, today.  Liam finally gets Olivia exactly where he wants her, but he has to take it slowly, afraid she'll push him away or run.

     He gathered her face in his palm, rubbing his thumb over her full lips before leaning in to taste her. The kiss was tender, hesitant. He feared she would bolt, so he started softly, a whisper over her flesh. Liam pulled back slightly and saw the wonder in her stare. She didn’t speak, just stared at him timidly, a question in her gaze.

     “What was that for?” Her voice was so low he barely heard the words flutter from her lips.

     “I think it was obvious what that was for, Olivia. I’ve wanted to do that for days and I’d like to do it more in the future.”

      As her lips broke to ask another question, he silenced her with his mouth, kissing her deeper, allowing his tongue to tease inside her opened lips. She thought too much, she needed to feel. He wanted her to experience the depth of his attraction, not continue to doubt it. When she sighed and leaned in for more, he deepened the embrace; he forged deeper and sampled her taste.

      At first, she returned his kisses tentatively, holding back before she grew more assured. She soon melted into his embrace, responding as passionately as he, the fervor growing between them. He lowered the hand cupping her cheek to stroke her neck and slowly let it drift down the soft swell of her breast, testing her. When she arched her back slightly, he knew she was hungry for his touch, as hungry as he was to caress her.

The Art of Procrastination: Writer's Edition

I have been a damned good procrastinator from an early age.  When I was about 17, my mother bought me a Garfield poster which said, "I'll procrastinate tomorrow," simply because it was me to a T.  And heck, if you're really good at something, shouldn't you keep at it?

I've gotten a little better at stepping up and doing what I should in a fairly timely manner as I approached adulthood.  Note the use of the words a little in that previous sentence.  I still rock the Big P on any given day, believe me.

Especially when it comes to writing.

Oh, should I really be working on the follow-up to the first book in my series?  Nooooooo, let's write a short story and sub that first.  Okay, done.  Can we now work on the follow-up?  Oh, wait, first let's write this other story which will start off a whole other series.  Done.  Is it time to get back to that book I really should be working on?  I think I'll write another short instead.  Okay...just wrote THE END.  Can we write that fucking story yet?  Um, no.  No, no, no, no, no.  And no.  Let's write something else instead.

I blame my muse.  She is worse than I could ever be.  And the world's best procrastinator.

So...that story above that I really SHOULD write?  I've written six short stories and two novels since the time I should've started it.  How sad.  I keep telling myself to stop writing series so I don't keep painting myself into corners but I'm muleheaded and the secondary characters keep speaking to me.

Moral of the story?  Sometimes you have to write stories you don't want to so you can close the damned door on a series.  Or you have to stop writing series.  The End.

Sexy Man Monday - Apple Pie Edition

May 13th is National Apple Pie Day.  You're welcome for that tidbit of useless trivia. 

When I think of Apple Pie, I think of America.  When I think of America, I think of sexy military men.  Because my mind is in the gutter most of the time.

Happy National Apple Pie Day!
Love
~Alex

Sunday Snippet #20 - Mother's Day Edition

Happy Mother's Day!  I hope all you moms out there have a lovely day and are pampered, because you deserve it.  Me, I think I will relax a little, let my little one make some crepes for my mother and I (she made some in her culinary class at school and is chomping at the bit to make some!  Fingers crossed they come out.), drink some fresh brewed coffee, drink some coffee, and then drink some coffee. In other words -- sit on my fat ass and enjoy the day.

Perhaps a little writing time, but who knows.  However the spirit moves me.

Anywho...since it is Mom's Day, I figured I would share a little tidbit from my recent release Falling For Him, a scene between mother and daughter.  Our heroine has never felt good enough for her mother, and mom breaks it down for her real quick.

“What are you afraid of?” her mother asked.

“If I have this surgery and it all goes as expected, what if I don’t live up to your dreams for me? What if this is all my life will be? Writing and clicking away on my computer is who I am. Why can’t I be good enough for you?”

Her mother rose and crossed to her, gathering Olivia’s face in her hands. “You are good enough. You’ve always been good enough. You are more than any mother could hope to have. You were my special surprise baby when I’d resigned myself to having no more after years of trying and failing. You’ve brightened my life from the moment I found out I was pregnant. All I want is for doors to be opened for you that aren’t now. Whether you choose to go through them or not is your choice. I want you to have the option to do everything you could ever want to do.”

Olivia blinked back tears. “And if what I have is all I want? If I don’t want to scale the heights of Kilimanjaro or trek through the Amazon River basin? Or if I don’t want to get married and have babies?”

“How about a walk on Carter Mountain where we can pick some apples or a trek through Monticello in the fall?” Her mother released Olivia’s face and chuckled. “While I can’t say I wouldn’t love to watch you walk down the aisle and have you bring me little babies to spoil, I know it’s your life to live, and I will respect your decisions.”

Guest Blogger - Doris O'Connor

Welcome back author Doris O'Connor as she comes today to share a peek into her latest release, The Billionaire's Unwanted Virgin.

-------

Thanks so much for having me here today :)

I'm thrilled to be able to share my latest release with you. The Billionaire's Unwanted Virgin was sparked by a newspaper article I read back in October last year.

This one to be precise: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2222458/Catarina-Migliorini-Brazilian-student-20-set-sell-virginity-780k-online.html

It caused quite a stir, and I couldn't help but think there was a story in there somewhere. What sort of a woman would sell her virginity? What would drive her to do that, apart from the obvious need for cash? Was it pure greed, the easy way out, or was there a much deeper and less selfish reason for doing so, and at what personal cost to her?

After all, anyone could purchase her.

It was an interesting dilemma, and I needed a dark and mysterious hero to play counterfoil to her. What sort of man would he be, apart from filthily rich? What drove him to do this? Surely there are easier ways to get laid?

What I came up with surprised the heck out of me. Lakota's and Alice's story is scorching hot, and deeply emotional. I cried, I laughed, and hubby wore a happy grin after I wrote their sex scenes.

*wink*

I leave you with a little taster … Enjoy!

Blurb:

     Lay back and think of England, she could do this. It was only sex, after all. Auctioning off her virginity was the easy part—going through with it not so easy.  When Alice realizes who has acquired her, keeping her emotions out of the deal seems an impossible task.

     Self-made billionaire Lakota, Lance Kemnay has no time for women, let alone one, who would sell her virginity to the highest bidder. Ever practical, however, he sees in Alice a solution to his immediate need for a wife. The emotions she stirs in him are just lust, and lust can be dealt with. As they connect emotionally and physically, his resolve to keep his heart aloof is tested beyond limits.

     Can he trust his tender feelings, or has he been taken for a fool by the one woman he thought he could trust?

Excerpt:                                            

He'd bound her to him with the ridiculous terms of their arrangement, and he had no idea how she really felt about him. That her body desired him, of that there was no doubt. Could there ever be more between them? Was the trust she exhibited in her submission to him enough to build a relationship on?

Would she want to stay with him once the arranged time was over? His little Alice was a romantic. Would she settle for a life with what little he had to offer, knowing full well that he was incapable of ever saying the words every woman wanted to hear?

"Lakota?" Her uncertain whisper shook him out his maudlin thoughts. This was here, and this was now. He would live in the moment and worry about all that later. Right now he had his woman where he wanted her.

"I'm here, my sweet. Relax."                         

She drew in a breath and another, in a visible effort to calm her nerves, and he bent down and kissed her again.

"Remember those candles you admired on that stall in Colombo, my sweet?"

She stilled completely and her breaths grew choppier, and he smiled.

"I see that you do… Now, feel their kiss, and fly for me."

He'd gone hard as nails in the middle of the crowded market at her innocent reaction to his whispered comment that these were far more than scented candles. He'd bought them on impulse, waiting for the right moment to introduce them. He knew her well enough by now to know how far he could push her, and he wanted to give her the pleasure this play brought.

She flinched at the first drop of wax hit her just below the collarbone, and he swiped the drop away, watching her closely for her reaction. Again and again he repeated the process, until she arched into the touch of the wax on her skin.

He drew patterns around her breasts, leaving the wax to settle, and letting the flame burn a little hotter each time. Her breathing changed to the slow, deep state of relaxed awareness he wanted her to be in as he scribed what was in his heart on her quivering tummy.

By the time he was done his dick was just about ready to explode, and Alice was so wet, the covers were stained under her ass. He smiled to himself at the face of housekeeping in the morning and poured one last heavy drop of wax over her hugely distended clit at the same time as he thrust his cock into the tight clasp of her body, with a growled, "Come for me, baby."

****

Alice came so hard and so fast she could barely catch her breath. The sensation of the hot wax dripping over her most sensitive flesh coupled with the feel of him sliding deep into her core, his weight pinning her in place proved too much.

She was dimly aware of Lakota reaching his own pinnacle in record time, and then she was free. Released from her bonds and held securely in his arms, she blinked to get her eyes to focus.

Her body was covered in multi-colored patters of wax, and he'd traced a word into her lower abdomen—Mine.

Alice bit back her tears, and Lakota's hands settled over her fingers tracing the word. She looked at him, and she held her breath at the emotion she glimpsed in his eyes, before he masked it.

"I will run you a bath, and you can soak it off. I'm not going near that beautiful skin of yours with a knife."

"Do we have to take it off?"

He grew very still at her husky question, and his voice was hoarse when he finally answered.

"I don't want you getting sore. This is your first time. We don't know how your skin will react."

Alice smiled at the protectiveness and concern behind those words.

"I seem to be having a lot of firsts around you, Mr. Kemnay."

BUY LINKS:  

Evernight Publishing

Bookstrand

All Romance Ebooks

Amazon

                                                                     

Author Bio:

Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris... at least that's what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.

There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.

She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

STALKING LINKS:                                    

Website Blog Twitter  Facebook Pinterest  Evernight Publishing   Amazon All Romance E-Books BookStrand Barnes&Noble