It’s been a crazy year that has flown by so fast, I don’t know where it went. As we approach Thanksgiving, I have to stop and breathe, take time revisit my year thus far and see why it was intense!

This year, so far, I’ve had 19 releases. Of those 11 were new books. 8 were part of a boxed set or were books I’d re-released after getting my rights back. Either way, that’s a lot of work! I did a lot of traveling this year, as well. I went to Colorado, Hawaii, San Antonio, Vegas, Nashville, Switzerland, Austria, France, Italy, Scotland, Florida, Kentucky and West Virginia.

My family has had some challenges with my 97-year-old grandmother and other members’ health issues, but they’re all still with us! My youngest has joined the Army National Guard and is now in basic training.

No wonder this year has gone by so fast. I’ve only tentatively laid out next year and it looks like it will be as nutty as this year. I can’t complain though because I love what I do and love meeting new people. I’ve met quite a few of my readers and can’t wait to meet more in the coming year. Thank you for reading my books and making my writer life possible. You all are amazing!

For my 19^th release this year, please get your copy of SEAL’S DELIVERANCE, the 9^th book in the TAKE NO PRISONERS series.

Navy SEAL and a sexy CDC biologist join forces in Montana to find the one responsible for threatening revenge on the SEAL team’s loved ones through biological terrorism

Raymond “Sting Ray” Thompson returns home to Eagle Rock, Montana, when a trail of treachery leads him back with members of his SEAL team. Their mission: to locate the biological terrorist targeting people closest to them. Claiming retribution for destroying an Ethiopian factory generating a deadly virus, the terrorist strikes Sting Ray’s uncle, the man who raised him. His team joins forces with a group of former military men to ferret out the terrorist and halt the release of the deadly virus into the environment.

On vacation from her job with the Center for Disease Control, Lilly Parker is with her brother in Montana when she gets the call to investigate a potential biological disaster targeting a family member of a Navy SEAL. Working with the Brotherhood Protectors and a team of Navy SEALs, Lilly conducts a covert investigation. Lilly and Sting Ray join forces to trace the virus to its source, determined to contain the disaster and protect the community, while fighting their own attraction for each other.

Amazon | Amazon UK | Kobo | Nook | iBooks | GooglePlay

**GIVEAWAY**

I’m giving away a great prize on my Newsletter December 1^st, but you have to be a subscriber to be eligible to win and you have to read the newsletter to see if you won. Join now!

Elle James’s Newsletter

Sometimes we get a quirky character in our head and he fits in to stories as a “comic relief” standup to one of our other hero characters. But this character is fully developed and understood by not only the writer, but the reader as well. I’ve found that fans love them.

I once had my cover looked at by a publicity person, and she said, “Well, he’s not the usual handsome and bare-chested guy, so I guess this book won’t do well.” She wanted to promote one of my other books.

While it’s true, my character, Fredo, his formal name being: Special Operator Alphonso Manuel Esquidido Chavez, doesn’t have what we would call “handsome” face and long tanned torso, his heart is his best feature. That, and he never gives up on the things he believes in.

This was a refreshing change for me to write a character with a unibrow he didn’t think manly to tweeze, a cratered face and wide nose, who didn’t eat anything green but cilantro and chilis, and show him as a sexy hero because of his heart and not his body. I even got fan mail asking me when his book would be out, and wondering why I hadn’t written it yet. He does appear in all other 15 of my SEAL Brotherhood books.

I get the most fan mail about Fredo. In the prequel novella, Fredo’s Secret, he learns he’s sterile. Fredo’s Dream is a continuation of that story in a full length novel to give him his Happily Ever After.

For a limited time, the eBook version of this book will also contain the prequel.

Here’s an excerpt:

They pulled up in front of the house. Fredo sucked in air like his life depended on it. He felt a paw squeeze his left shoulder.

“Tell her, man. Make sure you take that burden off you. If it’s her story, she has to unburden herself. But you don’t take that on for her. You can’t save her from everything. And you’re tough, Fredo. You’re the toughest motherfucker I’ve ever seen on or off the battlefield.”

Fredo didn’t know why, but he thought of something funny.

“Until this thing about the baby, you know what was the toughest challenge I ever had?”

“What?”

“Getting my pants on with a stiffy. Damnedest thing, I’ve been fuckin’ hard ever since she touched me that first time on the cruise. That first time I knew she wanted me for me.”

“See? Normally, I’d give you a ration of shit for that one. But that’s good. Focus on that.”

Fredo glanced down at his lap and grinned as his boner came back to life.

“Some men fuck better scared, so think about that and not what you might find out, either now or later. Doesn’t matter. She loves you. You know—hell, the whole platoon knows—she loves you. Whatever happened, I’m sure there was a good reason. And you know what I think about the testing. Just get yourself goddamned tested, asshole. You’re like those new recruits who cry when they get their first Wompa Shot.”

“Okay, I’m ready.” Fredo grabbed his duty bag and got out of the Hummer. He leaned back into the window to accept Coop’s final words of advice.

“Suck it up, Buttercup.”

Why couldn’t it have been something manly?

“Fredo, you don’t do this, and I’m gonna get Danny and Kyle and T.J. and Jones, and we’re gonna hold you down and tweeze that fuckin’ unibrow. Who knows, under all that hair, you might be a handsome man!”

He swore but was much more pleased with this “normal” sendoff. He started laughing to himself and then remembered one more thing and ran back to the window. “There were two things I struggled with. You won’t believe what the second one was.”

“You wear pink women’s underwear and were hiding it from your wife.”

“In your dreams.”

“Not my dreams, asshole.”

“I actually learned to get used to tofu and stir-fry vegetables. I actually got to like the taste of some green in my diet. Can you believe that?”

Coop shook his head and started the vehicle, shouting back, “Go fuck your wife, Fredo, and quit pulling my leg.” He drove off with a low rumble, screeched his tires at the corner, and was gone. Just before he disappeared, he held up his middle finger.

Get your copy here!

About the Author

NYT and USA/Today Bestselling Author Sharon Hamilton’s SEAL Brotherhood series have earned her top author rankings of #1 in Romantic Suspense, Military Romance and Contemporary Romance. Her characters follow a sometimes rocky road to redemption through passion and true love. Her Golden Vampires of Tuscany earned her a #1 ranking in Gothic Romance.

A lifelong organic vegetable and flower gardener, Sharon and her husband live in the Wine Country of Northern California, where most of her stories take place.

When I was a girl, my mother often called me by my older sisters’ name. It was funny in a way because that usually happened when I was in deep trouble. I once loved that her first instinct was to think of my sister at those times.

Fast forward to 2013 when I was writing my regency romance novel, An Improper Proposal. I had by then come to the realization that there was nothing about my mother’s faulty memory that was funny. Yes, mum still calls me Jenny rather than Heather fairly often, but there were other things she was doing that had crept into her habits that concerned me. The repeated offers of food and drinks, especially to my kids, and frequent calls for help to find misplaced items within their home were becoming a common event.

The changes in mum were so slow at first that I just accepted them like everyone else in my family and carried on in my full-time writing bubble. Until I couldn’t ignore the fact that the woman who’d raised me, taught me everything I knew, was slowly disappearing.

I want my mum back!

My mother has late stage Alzheimer’s, a disease that has stolen her recent memories and jumbled the rest, decimated her skills and experiences, eroded her happiness, and created so much anxiety in her that it is almost unbearable to witness. She has become paranoid, fatalistic, and incredibly insecure about her place in the world.

Readers often ask if I’ve ever created a character based on a real person. I did once. Mum’s earlier behavior certainly defined some of the traits of a side character in An Improper Proposal. At the time I had no idea how bad it could be. There’s nothing I can do to help mum or make her remember her life. The most I can do is try to reassure her that she is loved and wanted.

The last year has been emotionally challenging for me, and I’m easily moved to tears by the smallest things—like writing this post or my mum asking if I have a boyfriend when I’ve been happily married for 25 years.

I’ve learned a few things about stress tolerance and patience in the last six months when circumstances have required me to drop everything to be there for my parents. A full time writing week has become a memory. I miss getting lost in a new story so much, but it is what it is. I have to adapt.

There is nothing comfortable about change. I have let a lot of stuff go to keep my sanity intact, and everyone else’s for that matter. If it is not possible to do everything I want anymore, I certainly intend to do what makes me comfortable. It took me a while to get to find my happy zone, but here’s my suggestions if you are ever faced with a long term complication like mine:

1. Step back and decide what’s most important to do personally, and don’t put your health last just because the dishes are dirty.
2. Delegate or Delete. My kids are old enough to be trusted in the kitchen, so they each cook one meal a week. I’m on hand to offer advice, but I love that precious time of not being responsible. My youngest son is fourteen and does his laundry now too which helps to offset the extra hours I spend each week to help my parents manage their home too.
3. Share. My life these days has become all about writing, but I’ve always been hesitant about sharing too much out of respect for my family’s privacy. However, hiding what’s going on with mum is nearly impossible. I need other people to understand why I might be too busy to help them or perpetually run late.
4. Chill out and shut down. I’m doing the best I can, but life occasionally is just too damn hard. I need to stop worrying. I chill out best watching movies like Wall-E and John Wick.
5. The last one is the hardest and the easiest—let go of what’s been lost, live in the moment and make new memories. Alzheimer’s sucks, and while mum still recognizes me, there is no reason not to help her live the best life possible. That’s my new plan for the future.

Oh, and a word of advice—no matter how horrible it is to think of this stuff get your legal affairs in order so your end of life is less terrifying for the ones you love. One day they might have to make decisions for you because you can’t do it anymore.

Take good care of yourself and cheers!

About Heather Boyd

Bestselling historical author Heather Boyd believes every character she creates deserves their own happily-ever-after, no matter how much trouble she puts them through. With that goal in mind, she writes sizzling regency romance stories that skirt the boundaries of propriety to keep readers enthralled until the wee hours of the morning. Heather has published over thirty stories. She lives north of Sydney, Australia, and does her best to wrangle her testosterone-fueled family (including cat Morpheus) into submission. Connect with Heather at:

Website  |  Twitter  |  Facebook Page  |  Mailing List  |  Goodreads

I write about what I love. From one piece to the next it might include vampires, incubi, an underdog, or a Werecat or two but it always includes music. I tend to crush hard on rockers with amazing voices. My music addiction has given me great joy. In fact, music is the backdrop to the best times in my life.  So many road trips taken in the name of a good concert—or a good record show.

Record shows were large exhibits comprised of dozens—sometimes, hundreds—of dealers of all things music and pop culture. You could find just about any vinyl record you were looking for (domestic and imported) plus compact disks, photos, and posters.  If you were REALLY lucky, you’d find videos. Half of the fun was the hunt for that one rare find.

Today, my partner and I go to ComicCons. Once in a while we find a cool poster or picture, but what these conventions have over record shows is the opportunity to meet the celebrities.  Yes, I’m a fangirl but I don’t get all loopy over just any old star. What about Jason Momoa, you ask? Oh, yes. The last time I had my picture taken with him, he invited me to slip my arm around his waist and I nearly fainted. I didn’t though—why waste the moment?

Still, there was something about rummaging through crates to find that album with the poster in it, or the CD from across the pond with different liner notes.

Anyone remember going to record shows? Man, oh man do I miss them.

House of the Rising Son

Living After Midnight, Book 1
Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance (LGBT)

Cheyenne is a half-human incubus whose star is on the rise in the Unakite City rock scene. His father, the leader of the supernatural races, would prefer he keep a “low profile”, but screw that. Cheyenne has as much music in his veins as royal incubi blood.

Alexander’s future is all set—finish law school, join the family firm, and marry someone who’d be good for business. Not that he has a say in any of it. He’s barely met the woman his father expects him to marry.

As Cheyenne’s musical career takes off, his carefully constructed life begins to unravel, exacerbated by an ex-lover who can’t let go, a crotchety barkeeper with a dirty mind and a pure heart, a drag queen who moonlights as a nanny, and Alexander—who’s not sure if he’s falling for the incubus or the rocker.

Cheyenne denies who he is, while Alexander hides what he wants. Together, they learn that getting what they truly want means being who they truly are.

~~

Excerpt:

While waiting for their drinks, Alexander studied the deep grooves carved into the table, trying to ignore the friction of Cheyenne’s thigh rubbing against his as the musician tapped a heel to the thump of the DJ’s music. Once the drinks arrived, Alexander downed half the bottle before he realized Cheyenne’s large green eyes were staring at him.

“So where’s your girl, Prudhomme? I mean, Prune Danish. No, wait…”

“Prudish. Shit, Prudence,” Alexander sputtered.

Cheyenne’s eyes sparkled. “No, you got it right the first time. Where is she?”

He shrugged. “Home, I guess.”

Cheyenne cocked his head. “Oh, really?” He put his hand on Alexander’s leg. “What’s up? You can tell me.”

“It’s not working out.” Alexander dragged his teeth over his lower lip. “It’s my fault.” He couldn’t keep his attraction to Cheyenne out of his voice. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Cheyenne put his thumb to his lip and paused. “It’s like the drink.”

Alexander tilted his head, not sure he heard correctly. “The drink?”

“Yeah, that nasty ass bourbon. I bet your father drinks it. Your uncles. All your friends. Everybody, right?”

He didn’t answer, but waited for Cheyenne to continue.

“It was just expected that you’d drink it too. So you did.” His hand moved up Alexander’s thigh. “But now, maybe it’s okay to drink what you like. A different brand, a better vintage. Because you want it. Because it tastes better.” Cheyenne licked his lips. “Because it feels right.”

Alexander cleared his throat and brushed his lap, pushing Cheyenne’s hand away. “I can’t.”

“If you change your mind, let me know.”

“You don’t understand. It’s not that easy. My whole life will change.”

“It already has.”

~~

You can find House of the Rising Son on Amazon and Barnes and  Noble

About the Author

Trevann Rogers writes urban fantasy and LGBT paranormal romances. Her books include HOUSE OF THE RISING SON and its prequel novella, AFTER MIDNIGHT. Trevann’s stories incorporate an unquenchable addiction to music and her love for vampires, Weres, incubi and rock stars. Like these elusive creatures, Trevann learned long ago that sometimes being yourself means Living After Midnight.

You can find Trevann online at:
www.trevannrogers.com
www.facebook.com/trevannr
www.pinterest.com/trevannr
Twitter: @TrevannRogers

Depending on how long you’ve been reading me, you might not be aware of my naughty, Memphis-based cop-and-firefighter BDSM-ménage series, Delta Heat and Firehouse 69. There are eight books between both series, so far. And I do plan more because I can’t stop writing them. All my sexiest fantasies are rolled up in those stories. Click on the three covers below to read excerpts and learn more! Feel the heat!

Comment for a chance to win your choice of
one of my Firehouse 69 books!
Have you ever been to Memphis?
And do you love men with badges? 

Burnin’ Up Memphis

 

She’s the one fire he may not be able to control.

When a roof collapse kills his best friend and his girlfriend clears out his apartment and leaves, firefighter John Cooper knows he shouldn’t sit alone in his empty apartment. But when he accepts an invitation to Club LaForge, his feet get colder with every step he takes inside.

The sights, sounds and smells of the BDSM club make him sweat, and not because he’s turned off. Yet he can’t bring himself to admit—to himself, or to his luscious guide, Moira—that this lifestyle might just be what he needs.

An experienced BDSM trainer, Moira senses that Coop is not only a Dom in the making, but exactly what she’s been looking for. A man to be her lover and her Dom. The only problem is, Coop isn’t looking for anything complicated.

Moira’s willing to start slow and easy, but even once there’s enough trust to bring Coop into her world—and to her Dom—she’s still worried he’ll look for the nearest exit.

Warning: Do you smell smoke? Don’t worry, it’s just a hot and sexy firefighter getting down and dirty. Contains BDSM scenes, ropes, floggers, some spanking, some sharing, and some five-alarm sex.

Get your copy here!

Hi Delilah fans –

The holiday season is upon us, and a bunch of us will be traveling to join family and loved ones for the festivities. For many, that means getting up close and personal with complete strangers. Depending on the stranger, that can be a good thing or absolutely awful.

I once traveled back to the States from Asia. We boarded at Hong Kong for the flight to Tokyo. From there I’d take a connecting flight to San Francisco and from there another connecting flight to Dallas. Finally we’re airborne on the big jet and I find myself sitting next to a very attractive man of Asian descent.

After a short time underway as the flight attendants are working their way down the aisle with drinks and snacks, this man nods to me with a big smile and introduces himself. Only I really can’t fully understand what he’s saying. Very heavily accented, his words finally process in my brain.

“Sato Kazuhiro,” he said, nodding and smiling. “Japanese.”

At least, I think that’s what he said. His eyebrows lift, questioning. My expression probably conveys my confusion because he laughs and says, a bit more clearly, “My name,” and hands me a business card.

The card is thick white stock with a minimalist design in black, a stylized lion on the upper left corner with the words ‘Sato Industries’ printed in English beside it and then some Japanese characters. In the lower right are his name in English and more Japanese characters. He’s watching me expectantly.

“Michelle,” I say, not quite comfortable with adding my last name. “American.”

I tend not to get into conversations when I travel. So I adjust my jacket and settle back in the seat, giving him the signal that as far as I’m concerned, introductions are enough chat.

He’s completely not picking up the signal, or he doesn’t care what I want. When the flight attendants stop beside us, he insists on buying me a snack. I politely refuse and sip my ginger ale. He’s making faces and sighing like I’ve inflicted a mortal wound.

I’m thinking this flight can’t end soon enough. I regret that I didn’t bring a book. I know better than to travel without a suitable barrier against such unwanted intrusions.

“I travel,” he says. “Business travel.” It takes me several minutes to decipher what he actually said.

“Traveling today from Bangkok,” he continues, nodding, smiling. “Are you traveling far?”

“San Francisco,” I say. There, that should be the end of it.

“Lovely city,” he says. “Not as great as Tokyo. You let me show you Tokyo?”

What with the delay in comprehending his words and my hesitancy to reply, he finds it necessary to repeat himself.

“Beautiful city, many wonderful things to see. Nice dinner?”

“Uh, no. Sorry.”

“All night before connecting flight, yes? You could take day or two, see Fuji. I show you.”

Another big smile. Very white teeth. Intensely black hair with a hint of silvering at the temples. I’m noticing how perfectly his gray suit fits, no doubt tailored. Manicured nails.

In fact, in my few glances in his direction in order to satisfy my ingrained need to be polite, I can’t help but notice how well built he is. And handsome in that distinctly Japanese way with high cheekbones and intense presence.

For the first time since his flirtation started, I give serious consideration to what he’s saying. I’ve never been to Japan. It’s a place I’d love to explore and he’s probably intent on paying our way to wherever I wanted to go. Not that I would let him. But the food would surely be fabulous. I’ve heard of the wild nightlife in this city, too.

On the other hand, what if this guy makes his money in the white slave trade? What if he gets me in a car and the next thing I know, my life as a free woman is over? It’s insane to even consider his offer.

I try to shut down the conversation and he kind of takes the hint, not pressing further until we’re circling Tokyo. It’s dark. The ground below is a sea of lights. As the wheels touch the runway and we taxi toward the terminal, he starts again.

“Pretty American lady,” he says. “Michelle. Please consider what I say. I want you to see our beautiful city. Japan has much to offer even for one day. Two is better. Please,” he says, gesturing, “let me show you.”

I shake my head. “I have people meeting me at San Francisco,” I said firmly. “I can’t delay.”

He rolls his eyes and inhales through his teeth. Evidently I’ve inflicted another painful injury. “Hai,” he says plaintively.

The jet lurches to a halt. The aisles become instantly crowded. As we stand up, I notice he’s slightly taller than me. Gorgeous, now that I’m really looking. Imperious in his bearing, he leans toward me in a slight bow. “Beautiful Michelle, it has been my pleasure to know you.”

I really don’t know what to say. His eyes convey grief that I have refused his generous offer. I’m wondering if this come-on has actually worked for this guy. I’m wondering how it would be to see him without clothes. How he would touch me. Whether he kisses like American men.

I can’t be the only one—he’s smooth, fully expectant that I’ll experience a last minute change of heart and take him up on his offer. Should I reconsider? My hands are sweating as I clutch my carry on.

Finally we’re slowly shuffling forward to disembark. His hand touches my back. Slightly, almost imperceptibly, as if it’s his unrelenting duty to escort me, see to my welfare. How differently men behave in Asia—I’d noticed it before.

I start to panic that I’ve not given serious consideration to the idea of letting this guy squire me around this amazing city. The terminal hums with activity as we step into the well-lighted space. Music filters through the cool air.

“Sumimasen,” he says with another deep bow. “Sorry.”

“Thank you,” I say, inanely. “You’ve been very generous. Perhaps another time.”

He looks at me and in his dark eyes I see another world, a mysterious culture that I could never fully understand no matter how many years I might immerse myself in its history. What stunning revelations might he offer? I have to admit that he attracts me physically. I flash on how it would be with him over me and flush.

“Hai,” he says again, smiling. “Take care.”

I watch him stride briskly through the exit and disappear into the night. The shuttle takes me to the airport Hilton, convenient for my early morning flight. After being in Sato’s presence for four hours, I feel unexpectedly alone.

Dinner in the hotel restaurant surprises with its perfection. I drop my bag in the tiny room. A nicely folded robe waits for me on the bed. Its soft cotton fabric feels wonderful on my skin after a steamy shower. White rice paper panels cover the window glass. I lapse into ‘what ifs’ as I watch Japanese programs on television, listening to the flow of their words and observing their body language. Some of it reminds me of Sato.

Mysterious. Intriguing. An entirely different universe. As the tension of the flight and Sato’s demands and my internal conflict about what to do start to subside, I find myself regretting my lack of courage to take up his offer.

I’ve thought of it often since. What if I had risked it? Would you?

~~~

For all my times in airports before and after this trip through Japan, I’ve put together a short story that plays on the possibility of meeting someone and actually acting on the impulse. It’s fiction, so there’s no risk of harm. Except maybe to the heart.

Here’s an excerpt from Holiday Journey:

“I assume you’re stuck here like the rest of us,” a man’s voice rumbled.

Giselle startled and turned. Chatting with other passengers ranked near the top of her ‘never’ list. Today especially she wasn’t up to social niceties. She bit her tongue, resisting the urge to unload on this guy. Whoever he was.

The man stood just a couple of feet away, pushing the boundaries of her personal space. She assessed him with her practiced cold once-over, normally enough to send the offender on his way. This guy gazed back defiantly and had the brass to smile.

Why oh why did she spontaneously smile back? It wasn’t her norm, but there was something about him. Disarming. Curious.

Damn fine.

Even as she dragged her gaze away, her mental once-over slowed to a closer examination. As strangers go, he didn’t fall into the sicko or predator category. Tall and well-built, he dressed in a hard-to-read style with jeans, white polo shirt, and dark blue sports jacket. In comparison, she seemed overdressed in her short pumps and smartly tailored gray suit.

Her pulse increased ever so slightly. Whatever consideration she might be giving him must have to do with her absolutely wretched mood, because there was no logic in it. With a lift of her chin, she suppressed her smile. Give him an inch, he’d never quit.

“Flight 289?” she said. “Yes, I think all of us at Gate 12 have that in mind.”

His cocked eyebrow and knowing smile caught her off-guard. “You’re annoyed.”

His expression yelled ‘meet your bet and raise you.’ She huffed and shifted, turning slightly away from him. “Nothing personal,” she said.

“It never fails,” he mused in a conversational tone, turning to look out on the stream of people passing by and releasing his grip on a small bag to drop it by his feet. “Worst possible time of year to travel. And then weather.”

“Hmm,” she replied, not wanting to encourage him. Surely he’d wander off soon. She’d definitely appreciate him wandering off. Heat rose up her chest, an unwarranted reaction to something about him—maybe his aftershave, a scent she didn’t want to acknowledge much less analyze. It reminded her of autumn in the woods, slightly sharp, a hint of musk. And hell, she was analyzing.

“Going or coming?” he ventured, turning his face back toward her with a quizzical expression. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Yes, I mind you asking. I mind you intruding into my privacy. I mind you thinking what you’re thinking.

Which was absurd, she corrected herself. She didn’t know what he was thinking. But then, she really did. There was no way to miss the husky tone of his voice. This jerk was trying to pick her up.

A flash of him kissing her shot through her mind. She couldn’t avoid a quick glance at his mouth. Firm lips, a teasing smile—damn it. Of all the… This was absurd. Whatever little fantasy had wormed its way into the back of her mind, it could just worm itself into the trash bin. Why did she let this guy get under her skin? She was a strong self-assured woman, not some giddy teenager on her first date.

“Going,” she said briskly. “And you?”

~~~

Nab your copy of Holiday Journey at these links. Only 99¢, this short story is a sexy little escape from your holiday stress. Enjoy!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B019VLNZUU

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/675289

About the Author

I live in the wilds of the Ozark Mountains with three cats, two hound dogs, and whichever child has taken up temporary residence between grad school and relocation. I’ve been writing my entire life and can’t express how wonderful it is to share stories with readers like you. Every book comes from the heart in the hopes that you will find a bit of pleasure within the pages.

Sign up for my free monthly e-newsletter. Liz’s Hot News – Free monthly newsletter with excerpts, freebies, pre-release deals, and much more. Sign up at https://eepurl.com/bHOyS9

Follow me for free erotic short works, hot photos, and the occasional rant on my blog at https://lizzieashworth.com/

Like my Facebook author page for updates on other nice and naughty works https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLizzieAshworth/