UPDATE: The winner of the free download is…Kim Smith!

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Are you a fan of short stories? Have you ever read one? I love reading and writing them. Good thing, because one of my jobs is “editor” for sexy anthologies for Cleis Press.

I love short stories for many reasons.

• It’s a very short, satisfying journey to THE END.
• I can experiment with genre and see whether I’m any good at writing something different.
• Writing shorts cleans my writer’s palate much like eating bread at a wine-tasting.
• It’s just plain fun.

I write short stories for the collections I edit, but I also love to write them for other people’s collections. I get rejected the same as anyone else, so it’s still a rush to make the cut when a story is accepted. And because I normally retain all rights for the stories, I like to bundle them up occasionally into my own little self-pubbed volumes of Strokes. So far, I’ve published two. In a month or two, I’ll be publishing the third.  Today, I’m giving away a copy of the first volume to one lucky commenter. The second volume had to be republished a few months ago, and I lost all my reviews. 🙁 So if anyone happens to pick up a copy, I’d love you forever if you posted a review!

If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered
to win a free download of Strokes, Volume 1!

Strokes, Volume 2

Click to Buy

From New York Times bestselling author, Delilah Devlin, comes another naughty collection of seven bedtime stories—a week’s worth of nighttime reading pleasure.

Ride along with two soldiers, just returned from war, who find sweet release in “The Long Ride Home.” In “Tailgating at the Cedar Inn,” a woman has one last fling with two sexy construction workers. A cowboy kidnaps his “Runaway Bride” to get some sweet satisfaction. A woman travelling alone in Europe enjoys a hot steamy sauna in the “Textile Free” zone. In “Love in Bloom,” a florist tempts her high school crush. A naughty nooner with an office colleague ends in a “Quick Draw.” A dispatcher kicks inhibitions to the door when she seduces a younger truck driver in “Drive Me Crazy.”

Four of the stories have appeared in separate Cleis Press anthologies. Two of the stories were featured in Penthouse magazine! All the stories are featured in one sinfully hot collection…

Excerpt from “The Long Ride Home”…

White-hot sun beat down on the tops of our helmets. Sweat pooled between our shoulder blades and dampened the necks of our t-shirts. However, it was a hot, humid East Texas heat—so unlike what we’d endured for the past eleven months that none standing in formation really minded. We were home.

I watched it trickle down the side of one particular soldier’s neck as he stood in the row in front of me. Not for the first time, I thought I’d like the chance to lick it away.

Not that Staff Sergeant Mason Haddox had a clue how I felt. We’d been part of the same platoon—played volleyball and shot hoops, drove trucks over long, barely paved expanses of desert and mountains, and cleaned our weapons, side by side—but he hadn’t seen me as anything but another private who needed looking after.

And yet, his tall, muscled frame, black close-cropped hair and wintry blue eyes had made quite an impression. I’d lusted after him since the first time he’d shown up drill weekend, a month before we’d deployed. His steadfast calm during the most nightmarish day of my life had only cemented his attraction.

My nose started to itch, and I wrinkled it, hoping formation would break soon so I could scratch it. My feet were roasting in the boots sticking to the black pavement.

True to his word, our commander kept his speech short. A good thing, since SSG Haddox fidgeted, hands tightening and easing, swaying slightly on his feet as though waiting to spring into action. I knew he scanned the crowd seated in the bleachers from the corners of his eyes, hoping she’d show, that she’d changed her mind. I’d looked too and knew she wasn’t there—and wouldn’t be coming. I felt bad for him, but was also secretly hopeful he’d be ready to let go, that he wouldn’t do something stupid now we were back.

Just a month before we began preparations for our unit’s return from Afghanistan, Haddox had gotten the Dear John letter from his girlfriend, informing him she’d moved his belongings from their apartment into a storage unit. She’d included two keys taped to the page—one for the storage unit and one to his Mustang. She’d written she was sorry, but had he really expected her to wait all those months?

Had I been in her shoes, I would have. But then, I knew the feeling of being so far from home that Skype and email couldn’t fill the loneliness. I’d survived it once. However, my husband’s second tour had severed our connection—that and the emails I’d discovered when I’d hacked his Gmail account. Ones he’d sent to a female corporal stationed in another province who was planning a little R&R rendezvous. As quick as that, my love for him dried up like a closed tap. I’d forwarded the email to my account, then sent it to him along with a request for a divorce.

So I knew what Haddox felt. The searing betrayal. The anger. Maybe she’d been a decent person, but personally, I consigned her to hell. The worst thing the person at home could do to a deployed soldier was abandon him when he was too far away to do a damn thing about it.

I hoped he didn’t plan to go find her now.

“Company, attention!”

I snapped into position.

“Dismissed.”

Cheers from our unit and from the family and friends who filled the armory motor pool rang in the late afternoon air.

Head down, Haddox stomped away, not bothering to share a word with anyone.

My sister waved and made her way through the throng spilling from the bleachers, a wide smile splitting her face. I gave her an answering smile, but couldn’t help darting a glance to watch that broad set of shoulders move toward the open motor pool gates—the only space large enough to hold the formation and the guests who’d come to welcome the Reserve unit home.

The buses that had delivered us from the airport were pulling away. Most of the soldiers and their friends and family were heading inside the armory for the welcome home celebration, but Haddox strode toward the parking lot.

I gave my sister a quick hug. “Go say hi to Shelby—he’s got it bad for you.”

She laughed and blushed. “Where are you goin’?” Then her gaze followed mine. “Seriously? I thought you said he was an asshole.”

“He grows on you. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

She gave me a smile and hitched her purse over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. But you better call.”

“Tell Shelby to grab my gear!” Out the gates I sped.

Haddox was already dropping his duffel bag into the trunk of a car—an older model black Mustang.

I halted beside him, trying to figure out what I could say to keep him from driving away.

“You forget something, PFC Hollister?” he asked, glancing to the side as he slammed down the trunk lid.

“Megan,” I said, suddenly breathless. “Thought you might like some company.”

His gaze narrowed. “Did you, now? I’m gonna blow the carbon out of the exhaust. The ride’s gonna be bumpy.”

“I don’t want to get in the way—if you have plans.”

“No plans.” He snorted. “Don’t even have a place to sleep. Didn’t your sister come to pick you up?”

“Yeah, but she’s all right with me leavin’.”

This time, his mouth twisted into something between a smile and a snarl. “Shelby?”

“Yeah. You know they’ve been writing each other.”

His gaze trailed straight down my body, then up again. “Get in.”

I strode quickly to the passenger door, opened it, and slipped into the bucket seat. Then I tossed my hat in the backseat and began unbuttoning my ACU-camouflaged jacket.

When he slid in beside me, one dark brow lifted, but he didn’t say a thing when I threw it into the back as well and sat in my sweat-damp shirt in the musty car.

“Better roll down the windows.” Then he said a little prayer under his breath and turned the key in the ignition. I buckled my seatbelt. The engine rumbled into life. With a quick, tight grin, he jerked the stick into reverse, and then punched it forward. We rolled out onto the street, heading west rather than east into town.

Hot wind whipped through the interior of the car, dispelling the musty air and tugging at my blond hair looped into a clip at the back of my head. I reached back and released it, then laughed as the Mustang roared.

Glancing toward Haddox, I noted the hard edge of his jaw, the hand wrapped so tight around the steering wheel, the muscles in his forearm tensed. I didn’t have to crawl inside his head to know he didn’t want me there, but I was.

Maybe I could help him out a bit. And maybe, he’d see me as more than a fellow soldier who’d shared the bench seat of a deuce-and-a-half truck a time or two. One I’d been driving when he’d had to talk me through a hail of gunfire when our transport convoy came under attack.

I unbuckled my belt, ignoring his deep frown. I turned in the seat and reached for the buttons of his jacket, flicking them open then parting each side.

He didn’t say a thing, but his nostrils flared, his jaw sawed tighter.

I gripped the front of his t-shirt, bunched it in my hand, and tugged it from his ACU trousers.

His stomach jumped, and he sucked it in, making just enough room for me to get my fingers behind the waistband as I unbuckled, unbuttoned and tugged down the zip.

“Dammit, Hollister,” he said, his voice rough as gravel. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

His gruff tone spurred me on. “Not if you keep your eyes on the road,” I said, tilting up my chin. Then I leaned over his lap, folded down the elastic band of his boxer briefs and pulled his cock upright.

I have a book to finish slamming today. And I can’t wait to type THE END so I can give my poor hands a rest. I’ve written so many words these past few days that my stumpy little digits ache.

Since I don’t want to spend my fingers on a blog, I’ll get right to the point. I have a book coming on February 10th that’s up for pre-order now! It’s a historical western set in Two Mule, Texas—and yes, to those of you who pay attention, it’s a prequel book to the Lone Stare Lovers series. I love this story. It has tons of humor and sweaty sex. And isn’t this the prettiest cover ever?

And what’s with the title of this blog? Just havin’ some fun. And if you say you don’t know what Gunsmoke is/was, well that’s just sad. 🙂 Miss Kitty, Marshall Dillon, Festus… If you were like me, you were always waiting for Miss Kitty and Matt to get it on…

Comment for a chance to win a free download of one of my Lone Star Lover books!

At the close of the old year and start of a new one, the Internet sets itself on fire trying to keep up with everyone posting resolutions, goals, plans and wishes for the year to come. I’m definitely one of those ambitious planners  dreamers. I even spent part of December taking a wonderful online course, “How to Write 50 Books a Year,” offered by Delilah and her sister Elle James. (Writers: take this class the next time it’s offered. It’s amazingly useful.) With the help of that class, I developed not only an ambitious set of work-related goals for 2015, but a workable plan to achieve said goals.

As I write this blog entry, it’s the sixth day of 2015. (I know you’re actually reading it on January 12, but I had to get the post to Delilah ahead of time). I’m already behind on the word count I needed to finish all the planned books by the end of December 2015. I’ve also started a book that wasn’t on the original work plan, one that popped into my head on January 2 and demanded to be written now. According to calculations I made before I conceived this new novella, I have more than half a million words to write this year, and I can now add another 25,000 words minimum to that. You think I’d be panicking.

But I’m not.

At my age, which is older than Taylor Swift and younger than the average mountain, I’ve learned that no plan survives contact with the enemy, as Eisenhower should have said but didn’t. (It was actually a 19^th-century Prussian field marshall named Helmuth Von Moltke, as I discovered when I went to double-check the quote. The literal translation from German is much clunkier, so I’ll stick with the version that Eisenhower may or may not have paraphrased.)

Life likes to keep things interesting. Sometimes it’s in good ways, like throwing a new book idea at you when you were already looking at six or seven books for 2015. Sometimes it’s in a more mind-boggling fashion, like discovering in December, while you’re petting your shiny new 2015 work plan, that you’ve just been assigned a new editor who may have her own ideas about which book she’ll want when. And sometimes it’s just plain stupidity, such as the gaping plot hole into which your almost-finished book falls. (By “your,” of course, I mean “mine.” I know by this point in my career there’s always enough narrative rope to pull the book out of the hole, but when it happens it does kind of spoil the hope of wrapping the first draft up by the end of the week.)

But I can handle these changes of plan. Realizing I’ve mentally committed myself to writing more than half a million words in a year is daunting, but it’s nothing compared to some of the things I’ve done to my poor characters. If I can guide my heroes and heroines in defeating angry demons or government agencies run by evil sorcerers—and finding true love in the process—I can write the narrative of my year so it has a happy ending, even if there are a few plot twists along the way.

What are your goals and/or dreams for 2015? Post something about them in the comments and one random commenter will win a copy of my new (sexy!) paranormal romance Witches’ Waves.

About Teresa

Teresa Noelle Roberts started writing stories in kindergarten and she hasn’t stopped yet. A prolific author of short erotica, she’s also a published poet and fantasy writer—but hot paranormals and BDSM-spiced contemporaries are her favorites. Or they were until she discovered that SF romance offers new possibilities for wild sex, imaginative adventure and love beyond boundaries, so she’s added that sub-genre to her repertoire. Oh, and she’s also half of the writing team known as Sophie Mouette, writing mostly light-hearted spicy romances (with occasional forays into erotica).

Teresa is a crunchy granola girl who enjoys belly dance, yoga, medieval re-creation, playing in the ocean, cooking, and growing more vegetables than she and her husband can possibly eat.  She’d enjoy sleeping, too. She thinks. But it takes so much time!

She shares her home in southern Massachusetts with her husband, a Leo in law enforcement, and two overstuffed cats. She and her husband often plan vacations around food, history, and/or proximity to water.

Find Teresa at www.teresanoelleroberts.com, like her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/AuthorTeresaNoelleRoberts or follow on Twitter, where she’s @TeresNoeRoberts.

And check out her alter ego Sophie at www.sophiemouette.com.

About Witches’ Waves

Witches’ Waves (Duals and Donovans: The Different, book 4)
Samhain Publishing

“The overall message is one of hope and the healing that love can help bring, w/some really hot sex […] for good measure.” Four stars—Romantic Times

“This novel definitely hooked me for this series.”—From Me to You Video, Photography and Book Reviews

“Well written and full of emotional depth.”— Manic Readers

Buy links: Samhain /Amazon / Amazon UK / B&N Nook / Kobo / iBooks (iTunes)

The ocean is on their side. But the fight is on land—and it’s about to get dirty.

Duals and Donovans: The Different, Book 4

Long held captive as the Agency’s secret weapon—a blind witch with visions—Meaghan has come to a line she refuses to cross. Rather than betray the infant “child of five bloods” to the Agency’s scientists, she chooses death. Except when she throws herself into the ocean, she doesn’t die. Her repressed water magic comes to life.

When the sodden, delirious witch drifts into Kyle’s arms, his otter dual instincts tell him to get her to the Donovans as fast as possible. Even though one particular surfer-dude Donovan broke his heart.

Declan Donovan continually kicks himself for pushing Kyle away, but his touchy combination of water, earth and lightning magic is too volatile, and Kyle wanted more than Deck was ready to give.

When they come together to help Meaghan control her new magic, it leads the Agency straight to the child of five bloods. They’ll have to dive head-first into total trust—in their magics, in themselves and in each other—to save the child and stop the Agency once and for all.

Warning: Contains an oceanful of sex between an ethereal blind heroine who swears like a pissed-off Marine, an overly serious otter shifter, a would-be beach bum who may be descended from a Norse god, in permutations as fluid as the sea – and themes of abuse and recovery.

Series blurb:

Welcome to an America where the non-human Different and magically gifted humans live among ordinary people. Witches are both feared and honored, but shape-shifting Duals are treated as second-class citizens. The Agency, a government agency that’s supposed to monitor illegal uses of magic and Different abilities, has developed its own dangerous agenda. But when Duals and witches join forces, the Agency and other bad guys aren’t going to know what hit them.

And neither are the witches and Duals. Witch magic grows from the positive energy of love and sex–and the only thing better than one dual for sex magic is two of them!

Ever since seeing Gone With the Wind when I was nine years old, I’ve been fascinated with the Civil War era. Of course, growing up in the South, I was surrounded by antebellum homes graced with Greek Revival columns, steeped in legends that fired my imagination as surely as Sherman burned a swath to the sea.

But the Civil War was more than a brother against brother fight to hold onto an archaic and brutal way of life. The Civil War furthered not only the rights of African-Americans, but those of women as well.

American Red Cross founder, Clara Barton, stated that the Civil War caused “fifty years in the advance of the normal position” of women.

Historian, Barbara Welters, referred to mid-nineteenth century women as “hostages of the home.” Women were supposed to be pious, pure, submissive, and domesticated. The Civil War changed that.

Some women worked as nurses, a job that prior to the war was held mostly by men. The women’s rights movement flourished under luminaries such as Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton.

And then, there were women who donned uniforms, disguised themselves, fought—and sometimes died—alongside men.

Some were wives who couldn’t bear to be separated from their husbands. Still others saw the war as a chance for independence.

Sarah Rosetta Wakeman, who fought with the 153^rd New York Volunteers, wrote home to her family, “I am independent as a hog on ice.”

It is estimated some 400 females fought during the Civil War. These women’s struggles and intrepid strength inspired the character of Union soldier, Alice O’Malley, in my historical, lesbian romance, Beguiled.

About Beguiled:

The Civil War has torn Isabelle Holloway’s world apart, and now she has little help to manage her vast Georgia plantation. But when the Union Army leaves a brash Yankee Zouave behind, Isabelle is inexplicably moved to nurse this gravely wounded, startlingly beguiling soldier.

Alice O’Malley wants nothing more than to recover from her injuries, don her male attire, and rejoin the Federal Army. But after the alluring Southern Belle discovers her true identity, their clash of wills soon transforms into passion-filled nights in each other’s arms. Alice has been in love with a woman before, and fears risking everything for her enemy lover. As war returns to Isabelle’s doorstep, Alice discovers the wounds of the heart are far more vital to heal than the wounds of the flesh.

Order Now

Kindle | In Print

Excerpt:

With a sigh, Isabelle ventured into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you feeling better? Do you still have fever?” Before she thought better of it, she touched the back of her hand to Alice’s forehead. She was cooler than before but still warm to the touch.

Alice froze. Her eyes widened and the look of shock in her blue eyes caused a strange fluttering in Isabelle’s stomach. Alice’s stare captivated Isabelle’s, refusing to relinquish its hold—direct, penetrating, seeming to take her in all at once. The innocent touch suddenly became charged with something akin to lightning. Something too intimate. Dangerous.

Shaking herself into motion, Isabelle withdrew her hand and brushed her hair back toward her chignon. Even though she curled her fingers into a loose fist, she could still feel the ghost of warm, dewy skin. She rubbed her palm on her apron, wishing she’d checked her reflection in the mirror. Her nose was probably red. Tear stains doubtless shone on her face.

Heat rose and settled in her cheeks under Alice’s piercing stare.

Clearing her throat, Isabelle averted her gaze. “W-what possessed you to join the Union Army?”

“After the emancipation proclamation was issued, I felt I needed to help right an injustice.” Alice’s hint of a brogue overshadowed the meaning of her words.

Isabelle regarded her once more, trying to absorb the meaning. “Lincoln signed that proclamation over a year ago.”

Alice’s chin dipped in a nod. “Aye.”

Isabelle wanted to argue that the proclamation did not refer to slaves in Union-held portions of the Confederacy, but she couldn’t shake the rampant images in her head of Isabelle charging into battle. “You’ve been in the Union Army for a year? An entire year? How’d you hide…your identity?”

Alice shrugged one shoulder. “When you can shoot straighter, march farther, and fight harder than any man, they don’t tend to ask too many questions.”

One corner of Isabelle’s mouth twitched as she fought off a grin. It irritated her that she found humor in the thought of a woman—this woman—fooling so many men. But she did.

From where she sat, Isabelle studied the remnants of Alice’s uniform with its distinctive red, blousing breeches and blue, cutaway jacket decorated with red piping. “Why the Zouaves?”

Alice raked a trembling hand through her short hair. “A good many other Irish were in it. I knew they’d accept me. Besides, the uniform concealed…more.” With that, her plush lips curled up on one side in a smile that sent a jolt of something Isabelle couldn’t define straight to her pantalets.

She swallowed, instantly dismissing the unwelcome sensation. “Laws of mercy! You’ve all but ruined your chances of making an advantageous marriage.” Heat crept up her neck. Her pulse accelerated and she didn’t know why.

Perhaps merely because the idea of wearing a man’s clothing, of pretending to be one, seemed so taboo. So decadently sinful.

“Married? Me? Oh no. I’ll never stand at the altar. Of that you can rest assured.” Alice dismissed that idea with a wave of her hand.

Isabelle blinked. What sort of woman wouldn’t want to marry? But she knew the answer to that. The sort of woman who’d join up with the army and fight. The sort of woman whose livelihood wasn’t dependent on a man. “How will you make your way in the world? You can’t go on pretending to be a man forever.”

Order Now
Kindle | In Print

Her Beguiling Bride

Be sure to pick up a copy of the novella length sequel, Her Beguiling Bride!

Three years have passed since Isabelle Holloway gave her heart to Alice O’Malley, the brash woman Union soldier left on the doorstep of Isabelle’s Georgia plantation. Now Reconstruction Era taxes threaten their home, and Isabelle must decide between the female lover whose touch sets her flesh and soul ablaze, or a cold marriage to a wealthy man and an even colder bed. In hopes of saving the plantation, Isabelle and Alice travel to Savannah where doors close at every turn. Until Alice tenders a scandalous proposal that could cost them everything…or offer them the love of a lifetime.

Order Now
Kindle

*Contest

Leave a comment to be entered in a drawing for a copy of Beguiled!
Print or ebook, winner’s choice.

About Paisley Smith
Paisley Smith is a full time author who can usually be found in front of her computer either writing, chatting, promoting or plotting. It’s a glamorous life…working in one’s pajamas. She attended college in the Deep South where she obtained a slew of totally useless degrees and developed an unrelenting sense of humor. Website: https://PaisleySmith.net

UPDATE: The winner, chosen by a random number generator, is…ilona!

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I’ve written a lot of books and every one of them is special to me, but there are a few that are my favorite babies. Shattered Souls is one of those. From the moment I dreamed the pivotal scene in the first act, I was driven to write this story. I knew Cait inside and out from day one. I didn’t know exactly what she was capable of, but she led me through her story, bitching all the way. The words came fast, just as though they were being fed through a funnel. Like they weren’t coming from me at all. The sequel was almost as fun to write, although there was one particular scene that just about killed me. Those of you who read Lost Souls will know which one I mean… Enjoy the excerpt.

UPDATE: The winner of an eBook copy of Fear Of Flying is Elaine Swinney!

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Confession: I’ve pretty much always been afraid to fly. It started at age 18, with a rough plane ride on my first flight to Europe. Since then I’ve tried not to let my fear of flying control my life, but every time I board a plane, I can’t help but get a little nervous. Ironically, (since I didn’t actually search them out), I’ve had a fortune teller assure me I’ll never die in a plane crash and an astrologer friend tell me I will live to a nice old age. I think of those two women every time I buckle my seatbelt!!

But now I’ve found a way to turn my fear of flying into a positive thing:

I’m the author of nine books, and the advice always given to writers is “write what you know.” So for my latest story, aptly titled Fear Of Flying, I decided to get semi-autobiographical. I gave my heroine, Jessie Jordan, a fear of flying and wrote her story based on many of the real-life experiences I’ve had.

A job as a book publicist? Check. On a nationwide book tour with a travel writer? Check. Winter de-icing of plane wings and bouts of white-knuckle clear air turbulence? Check!

Everyone probably has stories of scary plane flights, me just more than most people. And I included them all in this book! Pretty much everything in it is true, except for the ex-military travel writer hero of the story, Regan Quade, whose lust for Jessie helped make this a very hot contemporary romance!

Here’s the blurb:

“You’re never going to die in a plane crash…”

A mysterious fortune teller’s prediction plays right into book publicist Jessie Jordan’s biggest fear. A difficult childhood has left Jessie determined to control all aspects of her life, but she can’t control airplanes…

Travel writer Regan Quade also has control issues. A devastating event during his time in the military has scarred him into believing he needs to remain single. He can’t risk being responsible for anyone else’s life.

But during a nationwide media tour to promote Regan’s newest travel book, Jessie’s fear of flying prompts Regan to help calm her anxiety in a shocking – and highly intimate! – way.

The sudden change in their relationship unleashes their mutual attraction, but Jessie doesn’t know if there’s any way to pierce the wall Regan’s built around his heart.

This romance is definitely one wild ride! I’ve gotten some great reviews and some wonderful feedback from readers. Here are two buy links if this sounds like a fun read to you…

Amazon: https://amzn.to/1CNHQX5
Nook: https://bit.ly/1xoXbsy
Smashwords: https://bit.ly/1xuh2tH

Now that you know I’m afraid of flying, it’s time to share! Tell me about one of your fears and how you cope with it. I’ll pick a comment at random to win an e-copy of Fear Of Flying.

Best,

Leigh
www.leighcourt.com

It’s that time of year again. The time when we set bright and shiny goals and resolutions. I talked about some of my personal resolutions on my blog recently. But today I thought I’d talk about the resolutions we set as readers.

In general, it seems most people don’t set reading goals. But I’ve found that in the romance community, we’re all about the reading challenge. And I love that. I love having some goal set that I’m working toward with books. Last year, I created my Push Your Boundaries reading challenge to try to encourage me and others to step outside our favorite genres on occasion and expand our reading horizons. I did pretty well, hitting about 75% of the categories I’d set up. But this year, I’m not sure what challenges I want to do beyond my number goal of reading at least 60 books.

I want to continue to read widely and not just in my favorite genres because I definitely discovered some books/authors I liked last year that I never would’ve found without the Push Your Boundaries challenge. But I don’t know if I’ll do it as a formal challenge. And I’ve done the 50/50 challenge a few times before—50 books and 50 movies in a year—which was fun, but I’m not sure I want to focus on movies this year. I’m more behind on TV shows. And I’m way behind on my TBR pile because, lawd, do I have a lot of unread books. I may have a book buying addiction—shh, don’t tell. 😉

So maybe I’ll fashion some challenge this year that focuses on decreasing the TBR pile I already have and on watching some of those TV series that have piled up on my DVR and Netflix cue. Hey, maybe I’ll call it the Catch Up Challenge, lol.

But here’s what I want to know from you: What reading goals are you setting this year? Do you set a number? Do you participate in some of the fun annual reading challenges that book bloggers host? Tell me your favorites! I’m a sucker for a reading challenge. 🙂

CONTEST: Leave a comment and get a chance to win a copy of my book, NOT UNTIL YOU!

And if you want to help fund my book buying addiction (*wink*), here’s my newest release—a hot m/m/f ménage!

About NOTHING BETWEEN US:

From the New York Times bestselling author of Need You Tonight comes a steamy Loving on the Edge novel that proves watching is only half the fun…

Unlike the heroine of her popular thriller series, Georgia Delaune can’t afford to take risks or push sexual boundaries–unless you count spying through her neighbor’s bedroom window, and never missing a single move he makes.

Colby Wilkes is more than willing to put on a show for the alluring woman next door. But his dominant side aches to show her the pleasures of submission up close. As a counselor, Colby is sensitive to Georgia’s fears. As a Dom at The Ranch, a private BDSM retreat, he’s the perfect teacher to unleash her passion.

But just as Georgia lowers her emotional barriers, an unexpected complication arrives: a bad boy musician from Colby’s past who adds fuel to her heated imagination. Now, the lonely author has two gorgeous men eager to fulfill every fantasy she’s ever written–and one she’s never dared to dream….

Buy: Amazon | B&N