UPDATE: The winners are Jen B, DebraG, and Shirley Long!

* * * * *

Happy Saturday! I hope you’re not working today, or that you’ve got a huge list of errands to run. As for me, I’ll have my BITHOK (Butt in Chair, Hands on Keys), trying to get closer to The End of my current project. So, not much time to chat, y’all! But I would like to know if you’ve read one of my short stories before, and if so, which one was your favorite?

Comment for a chance to win your choice of
one of these stories! I’ll choose
three winners!

And if you haven’t read my shorties, check out the full list here!

Tailgating at the Cedar Inn

Two construction workers come to the aid of one woman looking for a last taste of freedom…

Breathing became something I had to think about doing. I swept my upper lip with my tongue, opening my mouth to say something, but he bent toward me. Slowly. His narrowed eyes daring me to draw away.

I didn’t. The beer was plucked from my lifeless fingers, and I gripped the edge of the tailgate, wrapping them around it to brace myself for a kiss.

His mouth was tentative, teasing, sliding over mine and rubbing in a circular movement that pulled me with it, until I was moving with him, following to make sure I didn’t lose the seductive heat.

When he drew back, he smiled. “You know, sweetheart, you don’t have to be alone tonight.”

I blinked and glanced to the side at Owen.

“Package deal,” Chris said, drawing my attention back.

Package deal. Two packages. Mine to enjoy.

I opened my mouth and drew a quick breath, suddenly nervous. “I don’t…” I cleared my throat. “I’ve never…”

“We have,” he said quickly, cupping my chin and sliding a thumb over my still moist lower lip. “Nothin’ to be worried about. Cedar Inn’s quiet. Clean. You’ve got the single room, right? Come to ours, and we’ll shove the mattresses together. Plenty of room.”

Moisture seeped to soak the crotch of my shorts. My clit throbbed and hardened. I could end it now and go back to my bed, slide my fingers over the knot and come in an instant, but their scent and heat surrounded me. I imagined being sandwiched between them both—slick, hot skin sliding against mine, front and back. I squeezed my thighs because they were beginning to quiver. Suddenly, I had options. One safe. One not so much—but wickedly enticing.

“No pressure,” Owen said, dropping a slow kiss on the corner of my shoulder. “You call the shots. Whatever you want.”

What I wanted was for them to make a move. Make up my mind for me, because I didn’t think I was capable of speaking.

Chris laid his palms on the tops of my bare thighs and slid his thumbs between them, then slowly opened me, stepping closer, forcing me wider again until his crotch was flush with mine.

His erection was impossible to ignore. A thick, insistent bulge. “Maybe you don’t want a bed?” he murmured. “Maybe you want it here?”

His crudeness excited me. Challenged me in a way I’d never have accepted in my former life. I tossed my head. “But someone will see.”

“Maybe. Might only be Bobby, but he won’t mind. Will you?”

Owen slipped a hand behind me and rucked up my shirt until the fabric bunched under my arms. My belly bare, the warm night air blew across my skin, feeling like a caress. My stomach tightened.

I glanced between them, noted the tension riding both their jaws. They wouldn’t make a move without my consent, but they’d pounce the second I did. I let the moment stretch.

Then I leaned forward and raised my arms, keeping my gaze locked with Chris’s as Owen pulled the garment all the way off.

Both men breathed deeply as they stared at my breasts. Chris cupped one, hefted it in his palm then squeezed. Owen wet a finger and circled the other nipple, pausing to scratch a nail across the tip. It hardened.

“You’re pretty,” Chris muttered.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re happy about that.”

“Don’t pay any mind to what he says,” Owen said. “He’s hard. He doesn’t think straight when he gets that way. Take it as a compliment.”

Chris plucked my nipple and released it, watching it bounce back. His gaze darted to mine again, and then he slipped his fingers inside the waist of my shorts and rubbed the top of my mound. “Can I take these off, too?”

I didn’t mind his blunt tone this time. The air between us felt charged with a current that pricked my nipples and caused my pussy to contract.

I was already shirtless, already committed. So hot I was panting. I nodded, then gasped when Owen eased me back at an angle and Chris went to work unsnapping my shorts and dragging them off my legs.

Then Owen pushed me forward and slid behind me, urging me to rest against his naked chest. Chris opened his jeans and pushed them off his hips, freeing his cock. He leaned over me, pressing me harder against Owen who chuckled as Chris hooked his elbows beneath my thighs and lifted my bottom.

“A condom?” I gasped, one last shred of sanity remaining before my mind completely filled with the sight of him. He was thick, long, a straight cudgel of a cock. Twice the girth of the last man I’d had.

“Pocket,” he ground out.

I reached for the scrunched-up top of his jeans and pulled out his wallet. My hands shook, but I found the trifold of foil packets and tore one off. He watched as I clumsily cloaked him in the latex sheath. Then he was there, pushing inside me.

The moment he entered me, my mind clicked. Fuck, I was really doing this. Really taking on a stranger while his friend held me, his hands cupping my breasts and his cock grinding against my backside through his jeans.

And I wanted him nude as well. Wanted them both rutting, both sinking deep.

I wriggled inside Owen’s embrace.

Chris shook his head, his nostrils flared. “Want me to stop?” he bit out.

“Fuck no. But what about Owen?”

Owen laughed. The sound edgy, taut.

Chris urged my legs around his back and stood, lifting me from the truck bed. Behind me, I heard the rustle of clothing, the snap of latex. I didn’t look back and instead nuzzled into Chris’s shoulder to hide my face. I should be ashamed. But instead, I was grinning, and then nipping his skin, causing him to groan and thrust.

I didn’t know how they would manage it, but trusted that they knew a way.

“Ready.”

Chris nodded, then turned and sat on the tailgate, leaning back and bringing me with him. Behind me, hands cupped my ass, pulled my cheeks apart. I moaned in protest, and Owen’s thumbs slipped farther down, tucking into my pussy, sliding along Chris’s dick, then stretching upward to make a space.

“No way,” I muttered.

“There’s room. I promise,” Owen said a trace of humor in his strained voice. Then he was pushing inside me, forcing his way atop Chris’s thick cock.

Enjoy an excerpt from Lindsay McKenna’s latest release, Snowflake’s Gift!

A Delos Series novella

SOMETIMES A CHRISTMAS GIFT DOESN’T COME IN A PACKAGE….IT COMES ON FOUR LEGS….

Snow was coming down hard in town as Nick drove the van toward the shut-in area at four p.m. The smell of spaghetti and buttered, garlic toast filled the vehicle. Myra had made sweet potato cupcakes for dessert, and he stole one before they left the charity facility. It was nearly Thanksgiving and he was looking forward to taking Holly to his folks place for the afternoon and evening. The wipers were rhythmically swinging back and forth, throwing off the heavy, wet flakes. The roads were salted, but still Nick was wary of invisible black ice. In the late afternoon the heat of the day was gone and things got slick real fast.

“Oh dear,” Holly called, sitting up, pointing out her passenger-side window. “Look, Nick!”

Snowflake, who stood between them, heard the pitch of her voice change, and whined.

Nick slowed and pulled over to the curb, then looked to where she was pointing. There was a yellow Labrador moving awkwardly through the belly deep snow between two brick buildings. Her ribs were prominent even though she had a short, thick winter coat on. “She’s starving,” he muttered, scowling. “It looks like a female Lab. She’s too dainty looking to be a male.”

“She’s terribly thin,” Holly said, worried. “I wonder if someone dumped her—they do that all the time around here. I hate it.”

“No collar on her, either,” Nick agreed. The Lab was about a hundred-feet down the alley between the two buildings, slugging it out with the snow. Nick heard Holly make a little sound of urgency. She had such a big heart, and she hated to see animals or humans suffer.

Nick knew she wanted to get out and try to call the dog over to her. From the looks of the animal, her light-brown eyes wild looking, tongue lolling out of her mouth, her fur matted, he intuitively knew this was a dog that had been left behind a long time ago to fend for herself.

“She’s feral,” he warned Holly. She turned, her huge, blue eyes filled with tears. “She won’t let us near her. I’m sorry.” And he was. It wouldn’t be the first dog dumped here that Nick had found, or that Holly had come upon around the building of one of her shut-ins. They had a no-kill shelter here, and this Lab would have had a warm place to stay, food, and care if they could befriend her.

“Can’t we do something for her, Nick?”

LINKS
BN.com
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/snowflakes-gift-lindsay-mckenna/1125267515?ean=2940156794072
Amazon.com
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N994DJF?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660
Kobo.com
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/snowflake-s-gift

iBooks/Apple
https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/en-us/details/1179641291?country=us&mediaType=books&term=Snowflake%27s+Gift+by+Lindsay+McKenna

Tantor Media Audio:
https://tantor.com/author/lindsay-mckenna.html

I want to start by thanking Delilah for letting me come play in her space here again.  Visiting here is always a blast.  I had plans for a different subject for today’s guest blog, but in the last two weeks real life has kicked my butt in more ways than one.  So I opted to do something different instead, something a little less serious than what I started with—some of my favorite romance novel hero types.

We all love our romance novel heroes.  For some of us, they’re the main reason we pick up a book.  Even if you don’t shop by the cover of the book (which I don’t), the story blurb gives you a taste of the hero that makes you think, ‘Hm, that sounds like a guy I want to fall in love with.’  And if you shop by the cover art, well, mostly naked men on book covers…very visually appealing when you’re browsing shelves, no?

I love a great, tortured hero when I’m reading, but they’re sometimes really draining to write, depending on just how dark their stories are.  I also love a hot Alpha hero, but some of them veer into asshole territory, and it’s a fine line to walk.  When I’m reading, I also enjoy a hero who has a sense of humor, but humor is really subjective, so it can be as much of a challenge to write as a tortured Alpha hero, plus a guy who’s a clown might be too shallow to fall in love with.  Maybe a dangerous hero, one who would kiss you stupid, right before he kills you?  Done right, I’ve read some really amazing stories with very dangerous heroes.  Then there is the guy next door—but they can be a little boring if they’re too realistic.

So what is a romance writer supposed to do?

Some of my favorite books don’t rely on just one of those qualities to build heroes I’ve fallen in love with, and probably you, too, yes?  There is a Viking series I’ve been enjoying for years with the hottest heroes, many of them Alphas for sure, and they are the funniest books I’ve ever read.  One of my favorite authors (I aspire to someday pull off romantic suspense half as good as hers) has done some heroes who are really anti-heroes—assassins, who falls in love with assassins, I ask you?—purely Alpha and some of them really tortured to boot, and they would do anything to keep their heroines protected.  How do you not fall in love with a man like that, no matter what his profession?

So, tell me what kind of romance novel heroes do you like best?  Strong and silent?  Tortured but sweet?  Deadly?  Everybody who shares by 5 p.m. ET on Fri, Feb. 3, 2017 will have their name entered in a giveaway (via RandomResult.com) for an ebook copy of Hunting Medusa.

Hunting Medusa, The Medusa Trilogy, Book 1

One murderous mission.  One killer case of PMS.  Who said “the curse” was a myth?

When Kallan Tassos tracks down the current Medusa, he expects to find a monster.  Instead he finds a wary, beautiful woman, shielded by a complicated web of spells that foils his plans for a quick kill and retrieval of her protective amulet.

Andrea Rosakis expects the handsome Harvester to go for the kill.  Instead, his attempt to take the amulet imprinted on her skin without harming her takes her completely by surprise.  And ends with the two of them in a magical bind–together.  But Kallan isn’t the only Harvester on Andi’s trail…

__________

Excerpt: 

Kallan wiped his sweaty hand down his jeans, hoping the shriek of the Medusa’s alarm shutting off hadn’t wakened her. He didn’t want her prepared for an attack. He’d prefer to kill her quickly and get the hell out. He could be back in Baltimore by supper tomorrow with the amulet in hand for Uncle Ari to destroy, ending the protective spell for the rest of the Medusa’s descendants.

He touched the doorknob, felt the locks disengage beneath his hand, then turned the handle and swung the door wide.

Silence greeted him, and he took that as a good sign. No creaking came from upstairs, as there would be if she’d wakened. Good. Nevertheless, he stepped inside cautiously, listening hard. He took another step after a few heartbeats, trying to remember just where the kitchen table and chairs stood from his limited view the day before.

He made it past the furniture and paused to listen again. Still nothing. He frowned. With the power off, the house was too quiet. Surely the sudden and complete silence would wake her, even if she hadn’t heard the brief noise of the alarm shutting down. He slid one foot forward on the smooth wooden floor, and suddenly she was there. Fiery pain shot up his left arm. He grunted, realized she’d stabbed him deeply. He swung his other hand up, managing to hit her on the side of the head.

She cried out but didn’t go down, swinging her blade again. He caught her wrist, but she managed to get another slice to his already-injured forearm before he yanked her arm behind her.

Her booted foot connected with his knee—hard—and he bit back a string of curses at the pain, but didn’t let her go. Why wasn’t she barefoot? If she’d been sleeping, she should be barefoot. His left arm was nearly useless, blood pumping steadily from his wounds, so he crowded her up against the nearest surface. The refrigerator. He shoved hard, hearing her moan when he twisted her arm a little more.

Her blade hit the floor between them. She kicked backward again, and her foot hit his knee from the other side this time.

“Dammit,” he muttered, flattening her between his body and the appliance’s cool metal surface. His arm burned, warm blood dripping from his fingers.

“Get off me, you murdering bastard,” she said, her words slurred slightly from her face being mashed into the refrigerator.

“Well now, that’s not very nice. Especially since I’ve never murdered anyone. Yet,” he added darkly, tightening his grip on her wrist. The bones in her arm were fragile and he was fully aware he could crush them, render her arm as useless as she had his. But he didn’t. He wasn’t Stavros.

“You’re not going to start with me, either, Harvester.”

Mouthy. He grinned at the back of her head. Even trapped and defenseless as she was now, she didn’t stop fighting, even verbally. He had to work to keep from laughing as she continued to threaten him. No one had warned him the Medusa would be talkative. Or soft, he realized when her bottom shifted back into his groin. He concentrated on breathing evenly when his nerve endings all came to life. He’d never imagined he might be aroused by the Medusa.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she asked suddenly.

Kallan realized he wasn’t moving—or most of him wasn’t. He shut his eyes for a second, clenching his jaw. Her ass now cushioned his throbbing erection.

“Hey!” She shrank closer to the fridge, making a soft sound when the move forced her arm higher behind her.

He shifted, easing her wrist a little lower. This wasn’t going at all as he’d imagined it. “Stop moving.” He forced himself to unclench his jaw.

“If you think I’m going to make it easy for you to kill me, Harvester, you have another thing coming.” She didn’t stop wriggling.

Growling, he flattened her completely between his body and the refrigerator again.

She froze, and he could feel her pulse beating crazily in the wrist he still held. Fear? He imagined that was one cause. Anger too, probably.

He doubted she was having the same unexpected reaction to him that he was to her.

Not that it was a bad thing that she wasn’t suddenly aroused, too.

He just needed to stop thinking about it.

Concentrate on the task at hand.

Kill the Medusa.

Feel how soft her ass was against him. If he shifted his hips just a little—

No. He growled again, and she shifted, just as he’d imagined so her softness cradled him even more.

“Get off, Harvester,” she whispered.

“Stop calling me that.” He hated hearing it from her lips for some reason. Yes, it was what his name meant. It was what he was destined to do. But the contempt in her tone… He didn’t like it at all.

As though the Medusa had room to be contemptuous of him.

“It’s your name.” Her voice was stronger now, as if she’d somehow sensed his unexpected inner struggle. “Why shouldn’t I use it?”

“You won’t be alive long enough to worry about it.” He ignored her behind against his groin for the moment and took a slow breath, trying to remember his plan.

Get in, find her, kill her, get the amulet, and get out.

Well, his plan was not going very well at all.

He didn’t want to be the first Harvester in so many generations to finally find the Medusa and then fail at his job.

__________

Buy: Samhain:   https://www.samhainpublishing.com/book/4883/hunting medusa

About the Author

Elizabeth Andrews has been a book lover since she was able to read.  Almost as long as she’s been enjoying great books, she’s been attempting to write her own.  When she found her mother’s romance stash as a teenager, it was a natural progression to write romances.  Along with her enormous book stash, she lives with her husband of twenty years, two young adult sons, and belongs to two cats.  When she’s not buried in her personal library, writing, or at the day-job, there’s a garden outside with flowers, herbs and vegetables that requires occasional attention.

www.ElizabethAndrewsWrites.com

UPDATE: The winner is Debra G!

* * * * *

Thanks so much for hosting me today, Delilah!

Readers of science-fiction romance, futuristic time travel, or fans of strong heroines may enjoy my new book, In The Court Of Love And Loss.  I’ll be giving away a free e-copy at the end of this blog post!

What inspired this story? When I was young, I always wanted to be an astronaut. I mean, how cool would it be to travel in space, discovering new things? Unfortunately, it turns out I get sick on a simple roller coaster, so the idea of being nauseous in the weightlessness of space was not exactly appealing. (And NASA probably wouldn’t have accepted me into its astronaut program anyway…) The solution? I became a science fiction romance author!

The best part about writing science fiction or futuristic romance is being able to build an entire world from your imagination. There are no rules, except the ones you create. My most recent book, In The Court Of Love And Loss, is set on a planet I call Sirene.

Here’s a little synopsis:

As Mistress of Justice on Sirene, Kyrie is able to judge an accused person’s guilt or innocence with a mere touch. Her unique gift makes her invaluable to the planet’s dictatorial leader, Galen, but Kyrie is dying. Abandoned as a child by her people, the Ouri, when they mysteriously fled Sirene, she’s grown up among the planet’s “other” race. Now, at age twenty-five, she must find an Ourian to mate with or die. Except there are no Ourians on Sirene.

Proteus is sent back to Sirene to rescue a five-year-old child accidentally left behind when he and all the Ouri fled the threat of uprising. But through a trick of time, what he finds instead on his return is an Ourian woman he is forbidden by law to mate with, even if it means saving her life. And when the autocratic Galen forces Proteus to sexually service Kyrie, Proteus uses every trick at his disposal to keep her alive, all while plotting their escape.

Galen and Proteus are desperate to save Kyrie for very different reasons–but they both know the fate of the planet depends on her survival.

This novel is full of secrets and lies, surprising twists and unexpected revelations, with a strong heroine whose fierce loyalty to her sense of right and wrong forces her to make hard sacrifices for the good of her world. And they are choices which affect her own life in profoundly shattering ways.

If you are a fan of A Court of Thorns and Roses, and A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas, you will enjoy this book!

Here’s a brief excerpt:

“I can’t leave here, Proteus.”

“What?” Proteus crossed the short distance to where Kyrie was sitting.

She looked up at him, a plea in her eyes. “I appreciate that you were sent back here to rescue me. After twenty years of wondering why I’d been abandoned when the Ouri fled, it is a relief to know I was not intentionally left behind. But if I can save even one innocent person from Galen’s false accusations—from his wrath—then this is my purpose. My destiny. I help these people, Proteus. I can’t leave here.”

“Kyrie, you are Sirene’s princess, the future of this planet. And now the woman I love. It is my fault you were left behind during the Ourian evacuation, and it is my duty to return you to your people. But there is still much you don’t know. About Galen. About your own people. You must come with me.”

“I made a promise to Galen that I would not leave Sirene.”

Proteus smiled. “You won’t have to leave Sirene to be reunited with the Ouri, Princess, because they are still here.”

“What? No one has seen an Ourian on Sirene for the last two decades!”

“Exactly,” Proteus agreed. “And the reason for that involves a trick of time.  Let me explain.”

*~*~* 

Sound interesting? If you’d like to read more, In The Court Of Love And Loss is available at:

Amazon:https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N63TY5Z/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1479256852&sr=8-4&keywords=jenna+ives
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/in-the-court-of-love-and-loss-jenna-ives/1125150547?ean=9781682522592
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/in-the-court-of-love-and-loss/id1176691132?mt=11
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/in-the-court-of-love-and-loss
LooseId Publishing: https://www.loose-id.com/in-the-court-of-love-and-loss.html?___SID=U

Contest

For a chance to win an e-copy of the book, answer this question: What is the name of the antagonist of In The Court Of Love And Lost? (The answer can be found in my synopsis.) Leave your email address with your answer in the Comments section J One winner will be chosen at random. Good luck!

A little about me:

I’m an award-winning author who writes for several publishers under a variety of names, but mainly it’s to protect my poor sainted mother (who used to read sweet Harlequin novels) from discovering how sexy modern romances have become! I love to tango, travel and I’m obsessed with the Rolling Stones, travelling to different cities and countries around the world to see them play. You can visit my website at www.jennaives.com or my blog at https://www.fierceromance.blogspot.com. Or connect with me on Twitter @JennaIvesAuthor or on Facebook, Goodreads or Pinterest.

Thanks again for hosting me today, Delilah!

Jenna Ives

On Tuesday, this cowboy story releases. It’s a “new-old” story—one I wrote way back when, and which was published with a now-defunct publisher. You may not know of its existence, so it’s “new”! 🙂 Pre-order now so you don’t forget! Then play along with me.

If you’d like to win a free story from my current cowboy series, Cowboys on the Edge, find the answers to the following questions and send the answers in an email to me at delilah@delilahdevlin.com. DO NOT SHARE YOUR ANSWERS IN THE COMMENTS BELOW! This contest will run through Tuesday, and I’ll select two winners!

Here are the questions. Some are general knowledge. Some are specific to my series, and the answers can be found by simply reading the short descriptions of the books. Just so you don’t have to surf too far, here’s the Cowboys on the Edge page.

Name the following!

1. leather “sleeves” worn by cowboys to protect their legs
2. a loop of rope intended for capture and restraint
3. famous brand of cowboy hats that starts with “s”
4. the state where the Cowboys on the Edge series is set
5. last name of the fire chief in Caldera, Texas
6. someone who sets fires for personal gratification (use word in story blurb!)
7. first name of lawman who saves a mobster’s girlfriend
8. title of the latest story in the series
9. a cowboy’s seat on a horse
10. a cowboy’s shiniest accessory
11. device placed in a horse’s mouth
12. loop that holds the feet of a rider
13. a deep cleft in the earth

So, was that fun? A pain-in-the-ass? Would you like to see more scavenger hunts?

Enjoy your weekend! ~DD

How erotic can a historical romance get? Especially with straight-laced Victorians, prudish Puritans or proper Regency society?

When an agent asked if I could turn my Regency-set romance into an erotic romance, it turns out it wasn’t that hard. The fact that the Regency was a period where proper manners and polite society were of paramount importance made the taboo even more naughty.

The granddaddy of kinky wickedness—the “S” in BDSM—lived from 1740 to 1814. The Marquis de Sade was a French aristocrat and sexual libertine. One of his affairs involved his wife’s sister. Others involved prostitutes and servants. According to Wikipedia, “[h]e coerced women into performing sodomy, mutual flagellation, and other unorthodox sexual acts, and poisoned several of them with aniseed and cantharides.” His mother-in-law secured an arrest warrant, and de Sade was eventually imprisoned in the Bastille in the 1780’s. During his imprisonment there, he wrote his magnum opus, The 120 Days of Sodom.

My historical romances are mostly set in early 19^th century England, and de Sade’s works were not widely published then. According to Wikipedia, the first uncensored English translation of his novel, Justine, or The Misfortunes of Virtue, was not published until the 1950’s. But de Sade wasn’t the only novelist writing kinky stories.*

John Cleland (1709-1789) was arrested for the 1748 publication of his novel Fanny Hill: or, the Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure. The story, featuring a young innocent woman and her sexual encounters as a prostitute, includes menage, orgies, voyeurism, flagellation and non-consent fantasies.

After reading de Sade and Cleland, I didn’t find the idea of a BDSM club set in a historical so far-fetched. (Actually, nothing I can think of can come close to the stuff de Sade wrote in The 120 Days of Sodom, which was required reading in my political philosophy class in college.) I had a lot of fun researching what was possible, and the prevailing norms of society back then only adds more tension to the erotic elements.

If you’re curious to read an erotic historical romance, you can get a free copy of my book, Punishing Miss Primrose, here. It starts off steamy but gets more wickedly wanton as it progresses.

About Punishing Miss Primrose

The Marquess of Carey intends to provide Miss Primrose a set-down she will never forget after what she did to his brother at the Inn of the Red Chrysanthemum, where members indulge in illicit pleasures. He entices the wicked harlot to spend a sennight at his estate. But when Miss Primrose enflames his passions, will she prove too hot for him to handle?

Get your free copy here!

*’Kinky’ may be far too tame a word to describe de Sade’s writings, which many find extremely disturbing.

Greetings, Delilah fans…

Today I’m sharing a sexy excerpt from my brand-new release, the erotic romance Hollywood Honkytonk. It’s a full-length novel starring Jack, a rising Hollywood star, and Riley, a country songwriter on the run from her douchebag ex. Together, Jack and Riley dodge paparazzi and battle their insecurities, finding love and lust in La La Land.

Hollywood Honkytonk is a standalone read and book two in my Kings of California series. These steamy books star the Lamont brothers, three sun-kissed boys from the Golden State. The Beach Boys may have sung about California girls, but let me tell you…California boys? *sigh* Just as dreamy.

To celebrate the release of Hollywood Honkytonk, I’m giving away a signed paperback copy of book one in the series, Deep Down. I’m also giving away a travel sized tube of “Better Than Sex” mascara from Two Faced. Is it really better than sex? I’ll let you decide. You can enter the giveaway below.

Thanks for reading!

Excerpt from Hollywood Honkytonk… 

“Tell me something,” she said.

“What?”

She shut her eyes, feeling like a high schooler. “Have you been thinking about me?”

“The truth?”

“I usually prefer the truth. As a rule.”

“Every waking moment. I’m having trouble keeping on task. Spacing out in the middle of interviews.” When she giggled, he feigned offense. “Don’t laugh at me. It’s bad.”

“What have you been thinking about?”

His voice sobered. “You’re a good girl, Riley. You don’t want to know what I’ve been thinking about.”

Riley turned off her bedside lamp and slid down deeper into the covers. “Tell me.”

“Are you serious?”

She’d never had phone sex. “Do you want to know what I’m wearing?”

“I don’t care what you’re wearing,” he said. “You’re naked underneath. That’s all that matters.”

Riley laughed softly. “So tell me.”

He said nothing for a long time. She heard his breathing over the phone, soft and even. “All right, if you really want to know.” His voice got deeper, hardening into dominance. “Do what I tell you. Everything. Understand?”

Her heartbeat sped up. “Yes.”

“Close your eyes. Touch two fingertips to your lips. Rub them back and forth—slowly. Very slowly.”

She did it. The intimate touch forced her to focus. Her fingertips were warm and dry. Her lips were delicate, filled with nerve endings that tingled as she brushed her skin gently, back and forth like he said.

“Those are my fingers,” he said. “I’m touching your mouth. I’m there with you.”

And like magic, in Riley’s brain, Jack appeared in her bed. Stretched out beside her, propped up on one elbow, looking down on her as he touched her lips.

“What are you wearing?” she whispered.

“What’s this obsession with clothing?” A little impatience touched his words. “Nothing. I’m fucking naked. Can you picture that?”

God, could she.

“Focus, sweetheart,” he said. “Are you still touching your lips?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl. Open your mouth slowly. Just a little. Press your thumb right in the middle of your lips.”

She did it.

“Now,” he said. “Rub the tip of your tongue against your thumb. Lick it. Make it wet.”

Jack’s voice filled the darkness. Heat suffused her body, gathering between her legs. Her pussy tingled as she licked her thumb. The light salt of her own skin made her mouth water.

“Rub that wetness over your bottom lip for me. Make it smooth and slippery.”

She dragged the wet tip of her thumb over the sensitive flesh.

“Are your eyes still closed?” he asked.

“Yes.” She struggled for breath, turned-on beyond all logic.

“Good,” he whispered. His voice was rough. “That’s my cock. Right there. Sliding along your pretty pink lips. Imagine it. Can you taste me, gorgeous?” Deep under the power of his voice, Riley heard the faint sound of him unbuckling his belt and pulling down his fly. “You make me so fucking hard, sweetheart.”

Her imagination went wild. Jack sitting in the shadows, slouched in an arm chair, shirtsleeves rolled back, his big dick in his hand—the image summoned a fresh rush of heat between Riley’s legs. She moaned. He was thousands of miles away. How did he make her feel this way?

“Now take off your clothes,” he commanded.

HOLLYWOOD HONKYTONK

Can their love survive the limelight?

With nothing but her dog, her guitar, and her cowboy boots, songwriter Riley Marion arrives in Los Angeles on the run from her abusive ex. A quiet job teaching music sounds perfect, but her low-key lifestyle is threatened when she reunites with a sexy old flame—now an up-and-coming celebrity who’s constantly dogged by paparazzi.

Charming and driven, Jack Lamont is a Hollywood actor on the rise to stardom. Ready to outgrow his playboy reputation, he’s happy to leave the hard partying to his entourage. Romantic entanglements? Jack’s not interested. At least, not until he gets tangled up with the one who got away—a smoking-hot woman whose memory has haunted him for the last ten years.

Available in e-Book & Print

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About the Author

Award-winning author Mia Hopkins writes lush romances starring fun, sexy characters who love to get down and dirty. She’s a sucker for working class heroes, brainy heroines and wisecracking best friends. She lives in the heart of Los Angeles with her roguish husband and waggish dog.

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