Tuesday, 18 February 2014

Welcome erotic romance writer, Skylar Kade...

1.                  Do you only work on one book at a time? Yes and no. I usually only draft one book at a time, but while that’s happening I plot out a second book and, if things align, edit a third. This is perfect for me because when I get annoyed with one project, I hop to the next!
2.                  Who is your favorite fictional couple? What a tough question! Danielle and Prince Henry from Ever After are definitely at the top of that list. I love the way they change each other for the better. Their interactions are romantic and funny and they have the most interesting power dynamic inversion as this independent, strong-willed peasant shows the dashing prince how to stand for his beliefs—even when that includes falling in love with a commoner.
3.                  Favorite TV show? Sherlock. Well, most anything on the BBC, but I enjoy having a mini-series so I can gorge on it and then fangirl over it for a year until it returns. I also love to have an excuse to look at this picture every day.
4.                  Do you set daily writing goals? Word count? Number of chapters? Do you get a chance to write every day? My only goal is to write every day. Sometimes it’s a blog post and sometimes it’s 5,000 words. I’m very fortunate to have a schedule that allows me to make time for it.
5.                  Who was the last person you hugged? Does my dog count? I have a sweet old pup who’s feeling a little achy, so she gets super cuddles. 

One scorching-hot lesson could leave her begging for more.
The Maison Chronicles, Book 3
Reeling from the double whammy of her Dom’s abandonment, and accusations of colluding with a plagiarizing author, all literary agent Camille Winter wants is some low-profile, drama-free quality time.
Just as she’s settling into a Maison Domine cabin with her to-be-read pile and a full slate of spa appointments, she finds herself sweet talked into playing topless assistant so some Dominant can run a BDSM educational demo.
Architect Damien Winter is on a relationship hiatus, so he focuses his dominant energies on teaching BDSM classes. A chance encounter in Maison’s parking lot with a woman who angrily insists she’s no sub—though every line of her body screams otherwise—turns shocking when she winds up as temporary replacement for his demonstration partner.
Damien is unprepared for the way her beautiful submission gets under his skin. And Camille never thought she’d fall, hard, for just the kind of man she’s sworn off. But when her ex’s vague threats turn serious, Damien fears he’s already lost the chance to claim her for his own. 
Three hours later, he was on his way up to Maison Domine. With his smartphone calling out directions, he could keep all his focus on the scenery and the satellite rock station he was piping through his speakers. The freeways of LA weren’t much for the view, but once he hit the mountains…wow. It was like the trees drained away all his tension. Or maybe he was relaxing because he was closer to sating his needs.
After missing the turnoff the first time he drove by, Damien pulled a U-turn and crept back down the road until he saw the weathered wood sign with an arrow pointing up a narrow, tree-lined road.
His car rolled down the long drive, soundtracked by Guns N’ Roses’ “Welcome to the Jungle”, then burst into a wide-open clearing with a jaw-dropping view of the surrounding mountains. A large rustic structure took up the right half of the clearing, with most of the rest devoted to parking. More cars filled the lot than he’d expected for a Friday afternoon, but if other Angelinos had had weeks like his, maybe it wasn’t that big a surprise.
Parking his car, he wondered what the large building held. Yes, he’d heard other kinksters rave about the private club, but he’d been to his fair share of upscale establishments before. What set this one apart?
The answer sauntered across the parking lot, seeming to come from nowhere and heading for the front door. The woman’s body hit him like a wrecking ball. Every sense went on high alert and his heart jacked up its beat.
Jet-black hair spilled around her shoulders in soft curls, obscuring her face. Her arms were crossed as she walked, as if warding off the mild day’s nonexistent cold. Slumping shoulders drew more attention to the beautiful hourglass shape of her back, her body encased in a flowing, black dress that clung in all the right places. She looked tall, maybe eye level to his chin, though maybe that was her black combat boots. Not fragile—supple. Warm.
And crying. Her shoulders were shaking as she turned away from the building, facing him head-on. His demolition experts had nothing on that look. He wanted to kiss her reddened nose, wipe the tears from under her eyes. He popped open his door and headed for her.
The woman’s eyes widened and she froze, a deer in the headlights.
Car door open, keys still in the ignition, nothing mattered but this woman. He approached slowly, not wanting to alarm her. “Are you okay?” His voice echoed through the parking lot, though they weren’t that far apart.
The dress swirled around her knees, tossed by the wind whipping around the mountaintop. The soft neckline of her dress draped around her full breasts. His palms itched to cup them.
She nodded, letting her hair once again hide her face, which looked like it was made of the finest bone china. “Shitty week.”
He took a few steps closer, then paused. He saw faint tan lines on her wrist, barely there, that looked like she’d been wearing a bracelet cuff for some time. “Is he really worth crying over?”
Her pink lips clamped shut, then opened. “Look, thanks for your concern, but, really, it’s none of your business.” She swiped aside her hair to reveal twilight-blue eyes cracking with anger.
Her defiance stroked down his chest and reached for his growing erection. “I’m sorry, but when I see a submissive alone and crying, I make it my business.” He invaded her personal space until she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes, but she didn’t back up. All traces of her dejection were gone. Good.
The wind pulled at her curls as she jabbed a finger in his chest, like she was digging straight for his racing heart. “I’m not a submissve.”
Her nails weren’t painted or manicured, not high maintenance like many women he’d dated. He found it refreshing. Authentic, like her anger. “Not a submissive?” He grabbed the hand that had poked him and raised her wrist to the light. Her pupils dilated and her breathing tightened. Her tongue darted out across her bottom lip and Damien had to restrain a groan. His thumb stroked along her inner wrist where her pulse was jumping like a living thing trying to escape. “How long did you wear his ownership bracelet while you weren’t a submissive?”
She tugged at her wrist. A halfhearted attempt, since her other hand was clenched halfway to touching him. Being the ever-helpful Dominant, he closed the space between them, pulling her wrist up to his lips and laying a kiss on the pale flesh of her pulse point.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.
In response, he let her go and stepped back. “I’m proving a point.”
She swayed toward him before scowling and taking her own shuffle backward.
Her cocked eyebrow made him ache to play her until she begged to submit. She was a sassy thing and they had some chemistry crackling between them—something he certainly didn’t have with Lara, his demo bottom. “If you’re not a submissive, then I’m the Pope.”
“That’s your point?” Her jaw ticced and when her hands fisted on her hips, it made her dress strain across her breasts. She looked beautiful when angry.
Through sheer force of will he held his ground, keeping the distance between them. “No, sweetheart, the point was that you’re not crying anymore.”
Her eyes spit every insult her lips seemed unable to form. It only made his cock harder. He replied with his most guileless smile, which only seemed to infuriate her. With a clench-jawed scream, she pivoted away and headed for the woods.
“See you later,” he called as she retreated. Yeah, coming up to Maison Domine early had been a good idea. He’d need the extra time to learn more about this mystery “not a submissive” woman.
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Skylar Kade, self-avowed hedonist and princess extraordinaire, started her writing career after throwing aside yet another romance she could not bring herself to finish. The run-on sentences! The purple prose! Oh, the horror of it was just too much. So she sat down to write her own tale. Her favorite part about writing is the extensive research.
She currently resides in sunny Southern California, alternately cursing the polluted air and adoring the weather. Skylar spends her time asking the cabana boys to bring her more mimosas and feed her strawberries while she dreams up her next naughty adventure.
She blogs at the SkylarVerse and with the Nine Naughty Novelists.
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Friday, 14 February 2014

Welcome erotic romance writer, Heidi Lynn Anderson...

Birthday Wishes
by Heidi Lynn Anderson



Emily Samson’s awful thirtieth birthday consists of a solo bubble bath, burned microwave popcorn and a broken elevator – until both of her gorgeous landlords show up, making all her wishes come true.

Corporate whiz Emily Samson’s friends have deserted her for husbands and babies. So what does she do to celebrate turning the big 3-0? She buys herself popcorn and chocolate, refusing to settle for less than her ideal man. Or two. Her birthday wish is to be sandwiched between both her hunky landlords - as if that would ever happen outside of her most sensual, and secret, dreams.

Conner Walker and Jackson Smith are ready to find the one woman who can satisfy them both. However, finding that elusive someone to fulfill their needs has been like finding a snowflake in a snowstorm. When they rescue the normally uptight woman from 5B and discover her in cotton pjs instead of cherry red stilettos, they wonder if they’ve finally found the one strong enough to handle their demands.


The woman, who strictly wore designer brands like Chanel and Gucci like armor, looked vulnerable and adorable in the stupid pajamas. Conner’s jeans suddenly felt a bit too tight in the crotch. He cleared his throat. “Sorry… you took us off guard.”

A pretty flush filled her cheeks and she pulled at her collar. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Conner shifted his stance in an attempt to hide his raging erection. “We um…” Conner shoved his hands in his pockets.

Jackson stepped forward clasping his hands in front of his own hard-on. “What Conner is trying to say is that we came to tell you the elevator’s fixed.”

She unwrapped her injured palm and winced. “That doesn’t tell me why you are standing in my kitchen.”

Fresh longing punched Conner in the gut. “We thought there was a fire.”

He walked over beside her and reached over to turn on the tap. The back of his hand brushed the soft material covering her small waist. Heat exploded up his arm and raced to areas of his body he was trying not to think about at the moment.

“Here, put your hand under cold water.” He glanced at Jackson and frowned. The other man’s eyes filled with a hunger Conner knew all too well.

“Umm.” Emily stuck her hand under the faucet and winced. “I must have set the timer on the microwave for thirty minutes instead of three minutes.” She turned her burned hand under the rush of cool water and hissed in a breath between clenched

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

By day, Heidi Lynn Anderson is a wife, mother, and owner of a small Green-Cleaning company. By night, she spins erotic tales featuring hunky heroes and the women they love. When not working or writing, Heidi likes spending time with her husband and son, doing what Florida has to offer. Visit Heidi at www.heidilynnanderson.com

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Heidi Lynn will be awarding a $15.00 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.

Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: 


Tuesday, 11 February 2014

Welcome erotic romance writer, Daisy Harris...

After the Rain
by Daisy Harris



They’re going to need a bigger tent.

Henri’s list of bad exes is as long as his arm, but nothing prepared him for his latest, heart-stomping breakup. He thought he couldn’t feel more abandoned, until his ride for a group camping trip bails, leaving him stuck driving for hours with a guy who is absolutely not his type.

After breaking up with his girlfriend of five years, firefighter Logan is working up the nerve to explore his interest in men. He knows he’s gay. He just hasn’t had the guts to do anything about it…until now.

Henri’s big-city attitude and tight jeans push every last one of Logan’s buttons, and when he and Henri have to share a tent, Logan is thrilled. He should have realized Pacific Northwest weather would get wet—forcing them to strip naked. Though the steam between them is thicker than coastal fog, Henri’s not sure he can let himself fall for another man. Not even the guy who finally treats him right.

Warning: Contains bad ex-boyfriends, even worse weather, and more than your average amount of sex in a tent. May not be suitable for those with germ phobias, outdoor aversions or fear of damp shoes.


Logan pulled off his helmet, and Henri did the same. There was a moment when their eyes met, Logan grinning and Henri grinning right back. Henri realized Logan was going to kiss him a split second before it happened.

Henri jerked to get out of the way before their lips touched, and though Logan’s kiss landed at Henri’s hairline, a thrill of panic still ran through him. No way. Herpes! Logan couldn’t kiss him, and Henri definitely couldn’t kiss Logan back. Plenty of other guys would have taken the risk—especially if it was just a kiss—but Henri couldn’t.

“Oh.” Logan froze, his breath still in Henri’s hair. Slowly, he stepped back. “I’m sorry.”

“No. It’s fine.” Henri held his hands palms up, wishing he could explain in a few words, but the guys on the ridge above were already calling to them, hollering that it was time for lunch.

“I didn’t mean...” Logan turned away, hiding his expression. “I just mean it’s no big deal.” Shoulders curled forward, Logan headed up the stairs.

“Logan,” Henri called after him. He hated this. If things were different, he would have been on Logan from the second he saw what he was hiding under his shirt. He would have kissed him and even given his dick a squeeze for good measure. Now he’d be stuck with half explanations all weekend. “Wait up.”

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Birkenstock-wearing glamour girl and mother of two by immaculate conception, Daisy Harris still isn't sure if she writes erotica. Her romances start out innocently enough. However, her characters behave like complete sluts. Much to Miss Harris's dismay the sex tends to get completely out of hand.

She writes about fantastical creatures and about young men getting their freak on, and she's never missed an episode of The Walking Dead.

Want to learn more about new releases, general news and my latest inappropriate boy band crush? Sign up for my newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/b96xX

Daisy’s site: www.thedaisyharris.com

Daisy will be awarding a $20 gift card to Amazon or Barnes and Noble to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour, and a $10 gift card to a randomly drawn host.

Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: 

Thursday, 6 February 2014

Welcome M/M romance writer, Susan Mac Nicol...

Worth Keeping
by Susan Mac Nicol



Nick Mathers pulls Owen Butler from the freezing waters off the Norfolk coast, but Owen’s love can carry Nick back from the edge of oblivion.


Nick cursed the daylight and the truths it brought with it. He finally moved to get up, deciding a morning woody was worth the embarrassment as opposed to this thorough inspection of his body.

Owen grasped his shoulder, holding him back. Nick stilled at the expression on Owen’s face, a mixture of compassion and something else—sheer tenderness. He lost his breath at that look. Nick was torn between badly wanting this man to touch him and fleeing.            

He stayed. Owen’s long, warm fingers started to explore his past. Owen’s fingers moved lightly over Nick’s chest, touching the scars, finding the long, jagged one underneath his right arm that trailed down to his ribs.

Nick’s own morning hard-on got steelier by the minute at the other man’s gentle touch. Owen drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Jesus, Nick, someone really did a number on you.” His voice was uncertain. “Unless you did that to yourself?”           

Nick laughed shortly. “No, I can’t take the credit for these ones. Not my work.”

Owen shook his head in incredulity. “Who the fuck could do this to someone? Nick, what the hell happened to you?”

Nick shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he whispered. He shivered as Owen’s fingertips slowly circled the burns. Then Owen did something totally unexpected. He leaned forward and kissed one of them. It was a soft, fleeting caress by a pair of warm lips that felt incredibly good against Nick’s skin. Nick pulled back defensively, sitting up, but Owen’s hand moved gently, pushing him back. The duvet fell to Nick’s hips and he closed his eyes in mortification at the tenting of it around his groin.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Susan Mac Nicol was born in Leeds, Yorkshire, in the United Kingdom. At the age of eight, her family moved to Johannesburg, South Africa where she stayed for nearly thirty years before arriving back in the UK in December 2000. She has written nine novels, two novellas and a screenplay since February 2012 and clearly believes in keeping herself busy. She has found herself wanting to stay in the genre that is M/M Romance so more can definitely be expected.

Sue is a member of Romance Writers of America and Romantic Novelists Association in the UK. She is also a member of a rather unique writing group, called the Talliston Writer’s Circle, which in itself has a story all of its own to tell and lives in the rural village of Bocking, in Essex, with her family. Her plan is to keep writing as long as her muse sits upon her shoulder. Her dream is to one day make enough money to give up the day job and get that big old house in the English countryside overlooking a river, where she can write all day and continue to indulge her passion for telling stories.

Social Media:

blog: susanmacnicol.wordpress.com

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Susan will be awarding one randomly drawn commenter a digital copy of SAVING ALEXANDER and STRIPPED BARE.

Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: