UPDATE: The winners are…commenters 1-11!
*~*~*

Besides my series, I have written some very sexy standalone stories, too! I forget about them because I’m so busy trying to keep up with series, but I shouldn’t. In fact, when I get back to writing after my surgery, I should look at my workplan because I deserve to write something completely fun and one-off!

If you haven’t read the books below, now’s your time to peruse, and I’m including an excerpt from one of them so you can sample some of the fun. Several of them are menage stories, so if that’s your thing, be sure to check them out!

Contest

For a chance to win your choice of one of the books below,
tell me your weekend plans!

  

  

  

Click on any cover to learn more about the story!

Excerpt from Fun with Dick and Jane…

Tuesday

They were going at it again, and he was gonna get arrested. Which would be pretty damn embarrassing, considering he was cop.

Like clockwork, the couple across the alleyway started banging the minute his car pulled into the garage.

The street along the back of the parallel rows of one-story houses wasn’t much of a buffer. Driveways spoked off the narrow, paved road. Only twenty feet separated his garage from the bedroom window across the way.

Last night, he’d loosened the garage light bulb to make sure it didn’t give him away when the door slid up. Tonight, he flicked his car’s overhead lamp switch off so that the light wouldn’t beam the moment he exited. Carefully, he closed his car door, pushing it with his hip to muffle the click as it locked, walked around to the back then sat with his butt against the trunk to watch the show.

They had to know anyone walking by could see every damn thing—every drop of sweat, every short curl of pale blonde hair. She faced the window, clutching the bottom windowsill, her breasts bouncing every time Boyfriend slammed her ass.

God, her tits were Grade-A prime. Cherry nipples, topping creamy mounds.

Her blue eyes closed, her mouth rounded, and he knew when she came because she always wore the same expression—her cheeks growing rosy, her eyebrows drawing together tightly and the corners of her mouth curving like the cat that licked the cream.

And if the wind hadn’t been whistling through the alley, he would have heard the whimper she gave when Boyfriend milked the last little contraction of her orgasm.

Fuck. He needed his own woman. Maybe she had a twin. Because he sure as shit wouldn’t be satisfied with anyone who wasn’t her, Jayne Peabody—Jayne Hotbody as he’d begun to call her. He’d had her plates run so he’d have a name to assign the woman who’d played a starring role in all his fantasies this past couple of weeks.

They’d finished, and Boyfriend was pulling her into his arms, wrapping them around her belly and cupping those beautiful breasts as she snuggled against his chest.

It was time to leave. The show was over for the night.

Then her eyes opened, and Garret Masters could have sworn she looked right at him. He cussed softly, straightened and raised his arm, pulling down the garage door and shutting off the sight of her mouth stretching into a wide grin.

UPDATE: The winner is…Dana Zamora!
*~*~*

Hello Delilah!  Thank you for inviting me here today to discuss my newest release, Flying Hearts.  The short story was initially part of the Well Played sports anthology that came out last year. When I first signed up, I planned to write about gay archers. An enemies-to-lovers story.  Only, as I plotted the tale in my mind, I had lots of questions. I discovered a close friend did archery for fun and we had a video call (she’s in Argentina). Turned out my plot was a dud.  She gave me something possible to work with, but it was completely implausible.

So I quietly backed out of the anthology and focused on the twelve other projects I had going.

I needed a cover for another story I was going to write and an artist I knew posted a premade cover that I had to grab.  Plot Whisperer helped me with that one and I was thrilled.

I realized, though, that I had bought another cover from this artist several years ago and hadn’t gotten it changed (piece of advice for writers buying premade covers – always get your name on it and a working title right away – unfortunately, things can happen to cover designers, and you might get stuck with a pretty cover you can’t get fixed. This sucks. Trust me, it happened to me, and I have 13 unusable covers…).

Knowing I needed to act, I asked Plot Whisperer to help me come up with a title. Just so I’d be protected.  She asked me why the woman had wet hair. She wanted to know about the guy’s tattoo. And on it went.

Eventually, she plotted the whole damn story for me.  And we added a BDSM twist so I could write the story under Gabbi Black (my BDSM penname).  Next thing I knew, I had my acrobat MMF BDSM sports romance.

Who knew?!?!?!?

So that’s the story of how Flying Hearts came to be. Initially, we thought gymnasts and Tumbling Hearts, but having a ropes guy and BDSM? Perfect fit.  So I have Nick the rigger as well as Kaden and Yasmine, the acrobatic team.

Throw in some super steamy sex scenes and I had my erotic sports story to go with the hockey, baseball, and football romances. I submitted it only a couple of days late to the anthology people (I warned them it was coming).  I didn’t let people down after all.

Wait ‘til you see what I’m doing later this year in the sports arena!  Ah, for another day.

Thanks, Delilah, for hosting me!  I would love to give away a copy of Flying Hearts. Just comment and let me know – what’s your favorite sports to watch?  Are you an Olympics every four years or is there something you never miss? For me, that was figure skating.  Not so much these days, though.  Anyway, random will choose a winner. Good luck!

Flying Hearts

Yasmine

I’ve trusted Kaden with my life on the trapeze since we were fourteen, and with my heart since we became lovers at eighteen. People give us odd looks when we say we’re in an open relationship, but I’ve never been concerned about Kaden’s other partners. But then Nick lands in my life, and suddenly Kaden’s not the only man I can see.

Kaden

I’ve had a super partner in Yasmine—both on and off the trap. I assumed she was happy with our open relationship. She’s got her studies, and I have my…temporary bed partners. All is going well until a domineering rigger arrives. Suddenly, everything changes.

Nick

As a professional rigger, I know rope. I’ve worked in the entertainment industry for almost fifteen years, keeping people safe in front of audiences and in private. Rope is not just my profession, it’s my pleasure. Yasmine intrigues me, and when Kaden tries to interfere between her and me, it’s going to be a competition to see who comes out on top.

Note: Flying Hearts is a 15k steamy BDSM short story about a couple who didn’t know they needed more, and the man who’s tying them in knots. The story previously appeared in the anthology Well Played.

Links:
Universal Link: https://books2read.com/FlyingHearts
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Flying-Hearts-Erotic-Short-Story-ebook/dp/B0DXW14RNL
Add it to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/228204301-flying-hearts

About Gabbi Black

Even though Gabbi Black is a firm believer in happy endings, she makes her characters work for it in every romance she writes, no matter what the genre. From contemporary to BDSM, they are penned early in the morning in her home in beautiful British Columbia while her trusty ChinPoo dog keeps her company. She also writes gay romances as Gabbi Grey and small-town romances as Gabbi Powell.

UPDATE: The winners are…commenters 1-8!
*~*~*

Before there were bounty hunters, there were SEALs. And I loved writing my Uncharted SEALs series. All those rugged, alpha heroes and strong heroines. Humor. Action. Spicy sex. All the ingredients that make stories fun for me to write, and hopefully, fun for you to read.

With Uncharted SEALs, I experimented a bit. For the first time, I did sequels with the same characters—for the simple reason I couldn’t say goodbye to them. I wanted to see inside their Happy-Ever-Afters. Through Her Eyes and Between a SEAL and a Hard Place share the same main characters, as do Dream of Me and Heart of a SEAL. Big Sky SEAL gave birth to my Montana Bounty Hunters, introducing Jamie and Reaper, who as a result of their work in Big Sky earned their own satellite office of MBH. A fun theme I used in two of the stories was a cruise ship. Both Before We Kiss and Hard SEAL to Love are set on the same ship and have the same supporting characters. Plus, Hard SEAL to Love features a disabled female vet!

This time, I’d like you to read the EXPLOSIVE opening scene of Baby, It’s You.

Enjoy!

   

   

   

Click on the covers to learn more!

Contest

Win your choice of one of my Uncharted SEALs stories! There will be 2 winners! All you have to do to enter is answer me this…

Do you like second chance stories? Have you read one lately? List the title to share it.

Baby, It’s You

Carter Vance, Jr. stands at the fork in the road. Wounded in action, the Navy SEAL has a decision to make: whether to find work with a spec ops unit or return to his family ranch in Texas and repair his fractured relationship with his dying father and the woman he wronged. Complicating the decision is his reignited attraction to Melanie Schaeffer and his confusion over his feelings for his dead brother’s little girl, whom Melanie has raised since his brother’s and her sister’s deaths by a terrorist’s bomb.

Excerpt from Baby, It’s You…

The morning that would change Melanie Schaeffer’s life forever began quietly enough. The whoosh of a curtain opening sounded a moment before sunlight spilled across her bed. Melanie rolled to her back to see the maid picking up clothing Melanie had left draped over a chair the night before.

A blush crept into her cheeks. She didn’t think she’d ever grow accustomed to having someone else handle her intimate items. “You don’t have to do that,” Melanie said as she pushed another pillow behind her head. “I can clean up after myself.”

The maid gave her a cheerful smile. “It’s my job. And I wouldn’t have woken you at all, but you did say you wanted to get used to the time change…”

Yes, there was that. After two days, she still felt a little muzzy-headed. The nine hours’ difference in time zones from Austin to this little city bordering Asia and the Middle East took some getting used to. Melanie rubbed her eyes and blinked, focusing on the sun peeking through the arched window and the view of the lovely, lush garden beyond it. Bushes exploding with large cabbage roses and tall, fruit-laden palms nearly obscured the ten-foot wall surrounding the estate nestled in the diplomats’ sector.

Never had she stayed in such a luxurious place, never slept in a softer bed, especially one covered in a plush white-and-blue damask duvet that felt as light as a cloud. So many luxuries to be enjoyed, but she felt uncomfortable surrounded by the opulence. And the last thing she wanted was to grow used to the amenities. At the end of summer, she would be heading back to her small, cramped apartment. Handsome U.S. ambassadors weren’t in her cards. More likely, she’d marry another teacher, and they’d settle into suburbia, worrying about the mortgage and their next car payment, and she was okay with that.

She glanced at the designer suitcase, the logo prominent on the side—something that cost more than the clothing inside it—a gift from her sister. One to which Cassie likely hadn’t given much thought, or she would have gifted Melanie with something simpler and sturdier.

Cassie wasn’t intentionally thoughtless. She’d likely told an aide to buy a case and ship it to her sister, never thinking the case itself would be an issue. Cassie had always been destined to have more in life. Always simply expected it. Stunning and smart, she looked like a movie star but spoke seven languages. That Cassie wanted her to be part of her life pleased Melanie, but she knew over time, they would drift farther and farther apart. Their worlds would never intersect.

The maid continued to tidy her bedroom, so Melanie rose and moved to the suitcase she still hadn’t unpacked. She laid it open on an upholstered bench and rummaged for an outfit, nothing anywhere near elegant enough for her present surroundings—plain dark slacks and a blue, long-sleeved cotton blouse. Something appropriately demure should she be seen by any of the locals employed by her brother-in-law. “Are my sister and the ambassador still here?” She threw the question over her shoulder as she strode to the bathroom.

“They’re taking breakfast in the kitchen. You’ll catch them if you hurry.”

Glad she’d managed to drag herself from bed earlier than the day before, she hurried through her ablutions and skipped down the stairs.

Melanie took a step through the kitchen door, then quickly backed out, not wanting to interrupt the tender embrace between Cassie and Daniel. Since her arrival, she’d witnessed several such kisses, and she doubted they’d be embarrassed. She was the one with the problem. Their passion made her edgy…and a little bleak.

Daniel couldn’t help that he looked so much like his brother that every time she saw him she felt a little twinge in her chest. After three years, she would have thought the nostalgic pain had diminished, but maybe she was a one-man woman. And maybe she needed to date more. She’d never forgotten her first real crush. No other man had ever made her feel the same intense desire.

She’d met Carter Vance at her sister’s wedding. The intense attraction still mystified her. He’d barely smiled in her direction, although they’d been best man and maid of honor, and were forced into each other’s company constantly throughout the week of activities leading up to the wedding. She’d blushed and struggled to be nice to the taciturn Navy SEAL, and he’d eyed her with a look that bespoke his impatience with all the hoo-hah surrounding the marriage of her sister to the ambassador, a local celebrity in their tiny town in Texas. Because Cassie and Melanie had no family to speak of, Daniel’s father had stepped in to give the couple a wedding befitting a Vance, a proud Texas family that had owned the Rocking V Ranch since Texas became a state in the Union. His father had been kind and gracious, as had his brother Lee. They’d welcomed her into the family right along with Cassie, going to the extreme of talking her into transferring from Old Miss to the University of Texas at Austin so that she could visit during her breaks. They’d even paid the remaining years of her tuition. She’d graduated just a couple of weeks ago, and now, had time to think about what she wanted to do next. Grad school? Her teacher’s certification? She hadn’t quite made up her mind, and she didn’t want to impose any longer on Mr. Vance’s generosity. She wanted to start paying her own way.

Not that he ever voiced a bit of concern over the expense of her upkeep. All the Vance family had been wonderful to her, except for Carter, Jr. The week of the wedding, she’d noted she wasn’t the only one who’d earned his steely glances. A decided chill had been in the air every time father and son came too close together. Even after all these years, she didn’t know what had caused the rift or why it mattered so much to her. Why he mattered…

She cleared her throat and entered the breakfast room again to find her sister grinning and patting her hair.

“You’re up!” Cassie turned and smiled. “You really don’t have to see us off. You should have slept in. This is your vacation.”

Melanie shook her head and made a beeline for the toddler in the high chair. “You paid for my flight to get me here. The least I can do is play nanny to this munchkin while your au pair is back in the States and you both have to work.”

Cassie laughed. “I don’t work. Today, I’m just keeping the wife of the French attaché entertained while Daniel and his staff work on…whatever it is they’re discussing,” she said with a wave of her hand.

Daniel smiled, never moving his hands from her sister’s hips or his gaze from her shining eyes. “Madame Boucher is a very exacting guest. You, my dear, will earn your husband’s undying gratitude by keeping her happy.”

Her sister scrunched her nose then glanced downward at her outfit, a very stylish olive sheath.

A color that would have made Melanie look like death warmed over, but against Cassie’s dark hair and tanned skin, made her look very sophisticated.

“The last time we met she asked me if all consulate women shopped at Tar-zhay.”

Melanie giggled then bent closer to her niece to tug at a strawberry-blonde curl. “It’s just you and me, babe. What do you say we make you a bottle and watch some Dora the Explorer?”

“Doe-wah!” Emmy squealed and reached her chubby little hands upward.

Melanie’s heart did a little flutter. Never would she have imagined loving anyone on sight, but she was surely smitten by the cherub with cereal stuck to the side of her cheek. “Let me get a cloth, and I’ll clean you up.” She headed toward the sink.

Cassie gently pushed away Daniel’s hands. “I’ll get my purse. I wouldn’t want to add the sin of being late to the long list of things that woman will complain about.”

Daniel checked his watch. “We’ve got plenty of time. Atkins scoped out an alternate route. We’ll completely miss the protesters gathering by the north gate of the embassy.”

Cassie returned, pulling on a matching olive jacket, and paused beside the high chair to pat her little girl’s hair. “Be good for Melly today, sweetie.”

“I good,” the baby said, again raising her hands, “Kissh?”

“Last time I did, you mashed your food all over my clothes.” Instead, Cassie caught one hand and drew it toward her mouth to give the tip of each chubby little finger a kiss. “Love you, sweetums.” With a flutter of her fingers toward Melanie, her sister preceded her handsome husband out the door.

With their departure, quiet fell over the kitchen. Melanie took a deep breath, feeling a little guilty about the fact she was glad they were both gone. She’d have time alone with the little one, for them to bond and for Melanie to feel more relaxed. Because hey, her brother-in-law was her country’s ambassador to this little nation and lived in a freaking mansion. Her relationship with her sister wasn’t especially close; too many years divided them.

Cassie had gotten a job in the diplomatic corps right out of college and had only been home for brief visits, the last time to attend their parents’ funerals. And although Cassie did do her best to keep in touch—calling once a week, sending lavish gifts, even buying her a small, used car—Melanie didn’t feel comfortable around her more polished and sophisticated sister. Not like she did with the baby from the first moment they’d met.

She finished wiping the little girl’s fingers clean, removed the food tray, and lifted eighteen-month-old Emmy into her arms, just as she heard car doors slam outside on the cobbled driveway. Turning with the intention of walking to the window so the baby could wave good bye to her parents, Melanie caught a bright flash of light in the corner of her eye, felt a brief moment of complete, airless silence, then felt herself hurled through the air as an explosion of sound and debris hammered against her body.

The moment lengthened, searing pain stung her cheek, and a scream rent the air. And as her arms tightened around the precious bundle still held tightly against her chest, Melanie fell into darkness.

Joyeux Mardi Gras! This year, Fat Tuesday is being celebrated on March 4. Many people think of Mardi Gras as a celebration in New Orleans, specifically on Bourbon Street. While that is perhaps the most famous location, it is by far not the only location, nor is it the first.

A few weeks ago, I was chatting with a committee about having a Mardi Gras celebration in an area that doesn’t typically go all out for the holiday. There were many concerns that people wouldn’t attend, and many committee members mentioned that the holiday has a lot of negative associations and is only thought of as being a drunken cesspool of debauchery. Now, I won’t deny that the alcohol doesn’t flow freely or that acts of depravity and decadence do not take place. As with anything, there will always be a few outliers. Okay, when it comes to Mardi Gras celebrating, there are probably a lot of… let’s say… not demur activities that occur. However, Mardi Gras is about so much more than what many people see on the surface. It actually a pre-celebration to Easter. So, when these concerns were mentioned, many heads were turned in my direction.

Anyone who follows my blog, Creole Bayou, knows it is about anything and everything Creole and Cajun related. Mardi Gras is a topic that has cropped up on my blog more than a few times. While I am, by far, not an expert, I have acquired a lot of knowledge on the subject from having grown up in the traditions and also studying/researching it. For that reason, I feel comfortable sharing my knowledge to increase others’ awareness about what Mardi Gras is and what it isn’t. There are a lot of misconceptions and wrong uses of terms. So, let’s get into it, shall we?

Why is Mardi Gras celebrated on different dates?

The date of Mardi Gras is set according to when Easter Sunday is celebrated by the Orthodox Christian churches. Easter is celebrated on the first Sunday after the first full moon occurring on or after the March Equinox. There are two equinoxes every year. One is in March and one in September. The Equinox is when the length of the day and night are nearly equal due to the sun shining directly on the equator. This is not a fixed date.

What is the difference between Mardi Gras and Fat Tuesday?

The French word for Tuesday is Mardi, and the French word for fat is Gras. In the French language, adjectives come after the noun. Hence, translated Mardi Gras means Fat Tuesday. The term Mardi Gras is often used to refer to the entire Carnival season, but specifically, it is the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday. Fat Tuesday is the last day of Carnival. Lent begins on Ash Wednesday.

What is Mardi Gras’ relationship to Ash Wednesday and Lent?

Mardi Gras occurs the day before Ash Wednesday, which is the beginning of Lent. Ash Wednesday occurs forty days (not including Sundays) before Easter.

What is Shrove Tuesday?

It is another term for Fat Tuesday. The word “shrove” derives from the word “shrive,” which means to absolve. The easiest way to explain this is to take a historical look at Ash Wednesday, which is the first day of Lent, the time in which Christians reflect and penance. Being the day before Lent—a period of abstinence, almsgiving, prayer, reflection, and fasting—Christians would remove from their household any items they would be abstaining from during the 40 days of Lent. Often, this included food, many of which were fatty or caused one to become fat (e.g., meats, sweets, and alcohol). What better way to remove these items than to have one big ol’ party and pig out? Because of this, it gained the nickname of Fat Tuesday.

Side note: Some historians will argue that Mardi Gras originated from a pagan tradition. During this pagan tradition, a fat ox was paraded while onlookers indulged in binge drinking and eating. Other historians argue that Shrove Tuesday originated from the pagan celebrations of Lupercalia and Saturnalia, which celebrated fertility and spring.

What is Carnival?

Carnival is the season of festivities that stem from the Roman Catholic tradition and celebration of Lent. Carnival begins on January 6, which is the Feast of Epiphany. The Feast of Epiphany is also called the Twelfth Night, Three Kings Day, or the Twelfth Day of Christmas. Carnival lasts from January 6 until midnight of Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday). It is a time of celebration, feasting, fun, and parties before the beginning of Lent when the abstaining begins.

What are Carnival balls?

Carnival balls are fancy parties and/or grand events (many are masquerade or un bal masqué) that begin on January 6 with the Twelfth Night Ball hosted by the Twelfth Night Revelers and continue throughout the season. More than one hundred Carnival balls occur in New Orleans and have been occurring since the beginning of the celebration of Carnival. The first Krewe ball was held in 1857 by the Mistick Krewe of Comus. Today, most of these balls are by invitation only, and the general public is not privy to the full grandness of Carnival. During the ball, there is a king cake-cutting ceremony. According to tradition, the person who found the bean (the feve) hidden in the cake would host the next ball.

What is a Mardi Gras court?

The Mardi Gras court consists of the king (Rex), queen, dukes, duchesses, princes, princesses, captains, and maids. They are selected by the Krewes from Krewe members. This is one of the highest honors of Mardi Gras. Court members usually can easily be identified by their crown (une couronne), royal mantle, and scepter (or royal insignia).

What is king cake?

King cake is a Mardi Gras staple. Actually, it is more of a bread than what most people consider cake. It is a dessert made with brioche dough, cinnamon, and glazed with purple, gold, and green sugar icing. The name stems from the Biblical story of the three kings who brought gifts to Baby Jesus. Inside the cake is a plastic baby (i.e., be careful when eating as this can be a choking hazard). Whoever is served the baby in his/her slice of cake is blessed with good fortune but also must purchase the next king cake for everyone to share. It is said that it is not truly Mardi Gras without king cake.

What are the colors of Mardi Gras?

The colors associated with Mardi Gras are purple, green, and gold.

Do the colors of Mardi Gras have any symbolic meaning? Yes. Purple is a symbol of justice and royalty. Green is a symbol of faith. Gold is a symbol of prestige and power.

What are flambeaux?

Flambeaux are the torches that carried in the parages. The first Mardi Gras parade (un défilé) was in 1857, twenty-two years before the invention of electricity. To have night parades, the street parade route needed to be lit. In comes the flambeaux. Flambeaux is the French word that means torchlight. Flambeaux carriers were originally slaves and free men of color who carried torches along the parade route. However, they didn’t just carry the torches. They twirled, danced, and performed tricks with the flambeaux to the delight of spectators. To this day, flambeaux carriers are an integral part of Carnival.

Why do people wear masks during Mardi Gras?

There are several theories to this. However, the most popular and most agreed upon one is the following. Masks were first worn during Mardi Gras by the krewes, which were (and still mostly are) secret and elite societies. (Being a member of a krewe is generally by invitation only and generational. It is a very prestigious honor to have and extremely difficult to obtain.) The masks were used to conceal the identity of krewe members, many of whom engaged in outlandish and outrageous behaviors. It grew in popularity because it allowed all celebrants to be equal. Slaves and people of lower social economic status could blend amongst the wealthy and affluent. Without the mask, slaves and persons with lower social economic status would have been viewed as not equal and would not have been allowed to participate in the festivities.

What is thrown from the parade floats?

A common phrase associated with Mardi Gras is, “Throw me something, Mister.” This is a request parade goers show to the people on the floats to be tossed goodies (known as throws). Throws consist of beads, cups (also known as dinnerware), doubloons (coins stamped with the krewe’s logo, parade theme, and the year), toys (frisbees, figurines, plush animals, etc.), and other trinkets (also called des babioles). Note: Due to the concern for potential injury or damage, coconuts are no longer thrown from floats. However, if lucky and close enough, parade goers may be handed one by a Krewe member. Coconuts aren’t banned. They just can’t be thrown.

And that’s all I got for today. Now, it’s your turn to sound off. Let me know your thoughts below in the comment section. Your feedback allows me to know the content that you want to read. And if you like this post, consider clicking the like button and sharing.

Demon Rodeo

If Brokeback Mountain, 8 Seconds, Poltergeist, and Supernatural had an orgy, Demon Rodeo would be the lovechild.

Demon Rodeo is available now on Amazon. For video book trailers, visit my TikTok page. The full blurb is on my Instagram and Amazon.

Demon Rodeo is the first book in the Chasing the Buckle series but can be read as a standalone. It’s a friends-to-lovers romance set in the rodeo world. These are not your typical cowboys. It’s a widely diverse cast of characters and a mashup of genres that aren’t always seen together. If you’re looking for a palate cleanser, this may be a book for you.

Order
⇨ Amazon: https://readerlinks.com/l/4174852
⇨ All Stores: https://books2read.com/u/bP8RG7
*Note: All of my books can be purchased from brick-and-mortar bookstores (e.g., Barnes & Noble, Book-A-Million, etc.) as well if requested at the checkout counter.)

Until next time, happy reading and much romance. Laissez le bon temps rouler.

If you’re not following my blog, Creole Bayou, what are you waiting for? There’s always room at the bayou.

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Locker Room Love

 Locker Room Love Series

Are you searching for a sexy book boyfriend? You’ve come to the right place.

• Out of the Penalty Box (book #1) One minute in the box or a lifetime out.
• Defending the Net (book #2) Crossing the line could cost the game.
• Ice Gladiators (book #3) When the gloves come off, the games begin.
• Penalty Kill (book #4) Let the pucker begin.
• Future Goals (book #5) The future lies between a puck and a net.

About the Author

Hi, I’m Genevive, and I am a contemporary sports romance author. My home is in South Louisiana. If you like snark and giggles with a touch of steamy Cajun and Creole on the side, I may have your poison in my stash of books. Drop by the bayou and have a look around. The pirogues are always waiting for new visitors.

It’s no secret I’m a big Nancy Drew fan, but did you know that Nancy Drew can help you plan the perfect date night? I’ve read a lot of the newer books as my way to relax, watched the movies and shows (my favorite is the 90’s series), and I LOVE the Nancy Drew computer games. I started playing them when I spotted them at a Toys ‘R Us years ago. That store was a gift, right? Well, years later, I started dating the guy I would end up marrying and early on in our relationship, I shared that I liked playing the games. He told me he’d play one of the games with me the next time we had a date night. I picked Nancy Drew: Last Train to Blue Moon Canyon as I had gotten it as a Christmas present and it also featured the Hardy Boys.

So, we started the game and he was completely hooked. He was already a fan of video games and loved the fact you helped solve the mystery as it’s so interactive. We’d get snacks, a special notebook to record the clues, sodas, and settle in for some crime fighting/mystery solving time. In fact, playing these games became our thing and we went on to play—excuse me—solve several more mysteries. We’ve played nearly twenty and still haven more to go.

In fact, we have had so much fun playing these that I decided to put playing the games on a date night in my YA contemporary romance, When Stars Collide in the City, where Olivia Macomb mentions to indie pop star, Walker Vinton, how she and her friends used to play Nancy Drew computer games when they were growing up. She tells him how her friend had a sleepover with a Nancy Drew theme where they got special notebooks with, “Let’s Drew It,” on it for writing down clues. I always say that line, so I wanted to put it in the story. Anyway, Walker gets a game for the two of them to play for their next date night. How can you not love a guy like that?

Have you played Nancy Drew games before? Let me know if you have or decide to try it for a date night—or a night of fun with friends or by yourself!

Check out the blurb for When Stars Collide in the City…

From the outside, Olivia Macomb looks like she leads a charmed life. She’s an up-and-coming influencer who is an heir to the Macomb family fortune, and about to start a lifestyle brand with her childhood sweetheart, Jeff. Then her world gets blown apart by her longtime boyfriend leaving her the morning of their website launch. Not only has he left, but the business she created is all in his name and she’s been left with nothing to show for all her hard work. Now she has to pick up the pieces and find out who she is on her own.

Enter Walker Vinton, the indie pop star who used to date Olivia’s close friend, Paige. When their school throws a big event, Paige asks Walker to be Olivia’s date to give to the gossip bloggers something else to talk about other than Olivia’s broken dreams.

Walker ends up coming to Olivia’s rescue in more ways than one at the party, and a twist of events leads to the two embarking on a fake relationship. Walker and Olivia wind up becoming best friends and she realizes he’s the boyfriend of her dreams.

He helps her build both her brand and her self-esteem back up. Walker even helps her start a new business. However, the lines begin to blur as Olivia’s feelings for Walker are very real. The two share intimate conversations and dreams, but what’s real and what’s fake in this starry world?

Pick up the book here. It’s free in Kindle Unlimited:
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/When-Stars-Collide-City-Book-ebook/dp/B0D8BR4H2L
Amazon CAN: https://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B0D8BR4H2L
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0D8BR4H2L
Amazon AUS: https://www.amazon.com.au/gp/product/B0D8BR4H2L

About the Author

Krysten Lindsay Hager is a bestselling author of YA and contemporary romance. She writes romance because she loves bringing people swoony moments and hope-filled happily ever afters. She writes about falling in love, fame, fitting in, frenemies, first loves, and finding your way in the world. She loves reading, watching movies, and lipstick.

Website: https://www.krystenlindsay.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/krystenlindsay/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/krystenlindsay/

UPDATE: The winners are commenters 1 – 6!
*~*~*

Before I wrote bounty hunters, I wrote about vampires…

Contest

Answer me this for a chance to win your choice from among my many Night Fall titles!
Bounty Hunters or Vamps and Werewolves?

Truly, Madly…Deadly

Just this once…

On the trail of a serial killer, vampire Quentin Albermarle is mistaken for the killer by a police special task force. Once the smoke clears, Quentin finds himself in a delicious position—atop one of the unit’s crack officers, Darcy Henry. In need of Quentin’s access to the vampire sub-culture, the task force leadership invites Quentin to join the crime unit as a special advisor, much to the chagrin of the men in the unit, and especially, of Darcy.

Caught between opposing forces, vampire and hunter…

A no-nonsense cop with no time for romance, Darcy suddenly finds herself embroiled in a steamy love triangle between her mortal partner, Joe, and the handsome vampire. Going from abstinence to wantonness, she is unable to resist the two men’s relentless seduction or her own sensual curiosity about a vampire’s special “kiss”.

A hunger like no other…

When the real killer threatens the life of someone close to her, Darcy makes a choice that forever binds the three of them together.

Get your copies here!
Night Fall Series

“He’s coming in. Get ready.”

Joe’s voice jerked Darcy Henry to wakefulness. Berating herself for dozing off during a stakeout, she fumbled for the switch on her night vision goggles. Instantly, the landscape before her was awash in shades of luminescent green. She scanned the water’s edge. The crests of the ebbing tides rolled onto the beach, unbroken by any sign of “Bat-boy.” Had she already missed her opportunity?

“Where do you see him?” she whispered into her headset, glad the roar of the incoming surf masked their voices.

“Ten o’clock. Get cocked.”

She reached for her crossbow, drew back the linen cord with both hands, and latched it in the spring clip. Then she slid a steel-tipped arrow onto the track. Sighting down the shaft, she braced the bow in her left palm and dug her elbow into the sand. With the stock snug against her shoulder, she slid her right forefinger around the trigger and turned her sights back to the water’s edge—just in time to see a tall figure stride out of the surf.

He fit the description she’d purchased from the barman at the “blood bank” of the new vamp in town. Only, the barman hadn’t filled in all the details. Darcy stiffened against her body’s sudden surge of attraction and firmly reminded herself the vamp’s body was like any other man’s. Yeah, right.

Her gaze flickered over him, inventorying his characteristics—for my After Action Report, of course. Broad-shouldered, leanly muscled, just over six feet tall. Blond, she could tell, despite the fact his hair was plastered to his head. Handsome, too, with broad, prominent cheekbones, a longish straight nose, and lips that appeared permanently curved in a smirk.

Unable to resist the temptation, she adjusted the lenses of her goggles to zoom, and her gaze slipped lower. His package was as fine arriving as his ass had been going into the water. His long, uncircumcised cock dangled between his legs. Something else not mentioned in the barman’s description—and definitely not something that would make it into her AAR.

“Hold up!” Impatience clipped Joe’s words. “A civilian’s in your line of sight.”

Darcy lowered the bow, cursing under her breath. “Where? And how the hell did we miss that?” she whispered angrily.

“She had to have been here when we arrived,” Joe replied. “If I hadn’t seen her hand rise above the dune…”

Nothing was ever as simple as it seemed. A vampire spotted on Vero Beach just happened to meet the description of a suspected killer they’d circulated that day.

This night’s stakeout might be a bust, after all. They’d have to track him to his lair and try to take him out while he slept. Dusting a sleeping vampire never sat well with Darcy. Too unsportsmanlike. Asleep, even a probable serial killer like this one who wore an innocent face.

She burrowed deeper into the wet sand at the bottom of her shallow foxhole, prepared to wait it out. This time she wouldn’t doze, no matter how balmy the November night grew. Too many late nights and too little sleep were taking their toll on the whole team. Instead, she concentrated on how uncomfortable she was with damp sand working its way into her clothing and the smell of rotting seaweed all around her.

Having a target to observe helped. Hopefully, the vamp wouldn’t make a meal of his host and force Darcy to intervene. Hand-to-hand with a vamp was a last resort. Humans almost always lost to their superior strength, no matter how many degrees of black belt one had earned.

Joe let out a low whistle. “Damn! How’d a ghoul like that get such a fine piece of ass?”

A woman sat up near the top of a dune, her arms outstretched, revealing a slender back, rounded hips and a cascade of long, dark hair.

The vamp went down on his knees and leaned over her.

Darcy tensed, ready to spring to the woman’s rescue at the first sign of fangs.

Instead, the woman’s back arched to offer her breasts to her lover. His mouth closed over a beaded tip, and the woman’s loud groan of approval was discernible over the rumble of the incoming tide.

Joe’s soft laughter sounded in Darcy’s ear. “Better take notes, Darse. See what you’re missing?”

Darcy knew better than to answer her partner. Any response would only add fodder to the ribbing she’d receive at the Special Unit’s morning briefing. Her lack of social life was already a favorite topic. As it was, she was glad the guys weren’t wired in to her goggles.

Joe’s fed the monitor in the van parked farther down the beach.

Maybe she’d get even luckier and the vamp would move his tryst indoors.

Instead, he released the woman’s breast. With his hands braced on either side of her, the tops of his shoulders rippling as he “walked” down her body, he circled his head as he kissed a path across her belly. Then he moved lower.

Darcy squirmed. When was the last time a man had buried his face in her pussy? God, had it really been three years since Manny transferred to Miami-Dade?

The woman’s hips lifted, and her hands dug into the sand. His face reached the juncture of her thighs, and she shouted and thrashed her head from side to side.

Darcy wished she could roll to her back and give the couple their moments of privacy—and herself a reprieve from an unwanted rush of desire. Tight as a spring, the yearning wound inside her belly. She was helpless to stop the flush of heat that swept from her face to her breasts, and thankful for the darkness so no one on her team would see her blushing.

When she saw the suspected vampire rise to kneel between the woman’s legs, Darcy’s heart thudded dully in her chest and increased in tempo. His cock fell onto the woman’s belly, engorged and enormous, just before he hooked his arms beneath her knees and lifted her buttocks off the sand.

The woman reached for his cock and guided it to her pussy.

Then his hips slammed forward, hard.

The woman arched into the sand and shouted again.

No man had ever made Darcy shout, a thought that niggled her feminine pride while it aroused her curiosity—although, with his super-sized hardware, the shout might not have been one of ecstasy. The thought cheered her for the moment, until she noted the woman slamming her hips upward to meet the vamp’s thrusts.

From Darcy’s angle, she had a perfect view of the long, gliding action of his hips as he pumped into the woman’s body. Darcy’s legs widened, and she dug her knees into the sand, shifting her hips to relieve the itch between her legs.

“I’ll bet you twenty she comes before he does,” Max’s voice broke in.

“You’re on,” said Joe. “What man wouldn’t come all over a woman like that?”

“Ahem. Just a little reminder, guys,” Darcy said, hoping to cut off this particular line of conversation. “Captain will be reviewing this feed, too. Joe, you better not have on your zoom.”

Soft chuckles sounded from the guys, but they soon quieted and hunkered down to wait—and watch.

Darcy’s attention returned to the couple farther down the beach.

The woman’s legs straightened, her toes pointing toward the moon, and her long moans indicated she was fast approaching the big O. The vampire ground his hips into hers, and the woman screeched.

Joe groaned.

“You owe me twenty,” Max said.

“Damn,” Phil whispered. “Wonder if the wifey will be up for a little tickle in the morning.”

“I’m telling Bets you called her that.” Darcy’s mouth was so dry the words almost cracked.

The woman’s legs jerked up and down.

The vamp flung back his head and thrust faster. Suddenly, he stopped, his nose lifting into the breeze.

Realizing the wind had shifted, Darcy hugged the sand and held her breath.

The vamp turned his head and stared straight at her.

Darcy froze, hoping he hadn’t really seen her. But a grin stretched across his face.

“Fuck, Darcy!” Joe shouted into her headset. “You’re made. Get out.”

Darcy couldn’t risk a shot with the woman downrange. She ditched her crossbow, ripped off her goggles, and sprang from the foxhole. Running straight for the road a hundred yards in front of her, Darcy felt the world slow. Her feet mired in the sand. Her heart drummed loudly in her ears.

Then she heard bare feet pounding in the sand and knew he was gaining.

“I’ll try to get off a shot,” Joe said, his breaths coming short and fast, “but he’s moving in on you. Pick up your feet. You’re running like a damn girl.”

Anger and a spurt of adrenaline increased her pace. She leapt over a hummock of tall sawgrass and hoped it scraped his balls. The road was fifty yards away. The headlights of the approaching van swept the beach in front of her.

“He’s too close. I can’t get off a shot,” Joe said. “Hold him off. I’m coming.”

Twenty-five yards and uphill now, she strained, her boots sinking ankle-deep as she climbed a dune. She reached the top, and then her feet left the ground as a heavy weight knocked her through the air.

They rolled to the bottom of the dune in a jumble of twisting limbs. When they stopped, his long, hard body stretched over hers, anchoring her to the ground.

Darcy opened her eyes, expecting a vampire’s mask and a row of jagged teeth. Instead, the vamp’s handsome face hovered only inches from her own. She drew a deep, shuddering breath.

“Well, well, well,” he said, his voice a low, rumbling purr. “A she-cop. A dangerous species, indeed.”

“You’re English,” she blurted. Something else not in the report. Was he even a vampire? Despite the layer of clothing separating their skins, Darcy burned from his heat. She struggled against his restraint.

He stretched and hooked his ankles around hers, and his hands held hers easily to the ground above her head.

Finally defeated, she let her head fall back in the sand. “So, how’d you know I was there?” she asked, already knowing the truth, but needing to distract him. His teeth were too close for comfort.

His face lowered, and he sniffed along her neck and the collar of her shirt. “My dear, I could smell your arousal. Delicious.”

ALL THE NIGHT FALL BOOKS!

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Happy Valentine’s Day! This post is a different take on the hearts holiday that people seem to either love or detest. There isn’t much gray area toward it. I’ll begin with a question. Who is your favorite romance author? Second question: why?

Of course, there’s no right or wrong answer to those questions. So, why would I pose the question? Oddly enough, a commercial and shopping for the Super Bowl. Let me set the scene.

It had been a while since I hosted a Super Bowl party, and this felt like the year to do it. After commandeering my best gal pals, we headed to a craft store for decorations. Now, we knew this particular store (which I won’t name because I don’t have much positive to say about it) would have slim pickings, and we had prepared to let our creative juices flow once we saw what we had to work with. The instant we stepped in front of the automatic doors we were overwhelmed with the commercialism of Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t a shock because this store had begun stocking its shelves with chocolate hearts and lovey-dovey knickknacks a week before Christmas when they felt people wouldn’t purchase any more ornaments or tinsel. So much for after-Christmas sales, and heaven bless anyone who buys Valentine’s chocolates that early.

As we made our way down the aisle, I asked a friend to visit Instagram or Pinterest for decorating ideas. When she opened one of the apps, an ad immediately opened. It was a Hallmark Channel commercial for a V-day rom-com based on a best-selling novel. It sparked my friend to ask if we could remember a time before Nora Roberts, Debbie Macomber, Sandra Brown, and Nicholas Sparks. These authors are heavy hitters who are staples in the romance genre. But at one point, they had been unknowns.

The writing world has changed substantially since those writers’ beginnings. Then, agents and traditional publishing dominated, and breaking onto the writing scene was practically impossible without going that route. However, most big publishing houses did not accept unsolicited manuscripts, and many agents didn’t take on new/unknown writers. Now, some may argue this wasn’t the case, but all that is needed to give credit is a scrutiny of the increased popularity of self-publishing.

Self-publishing has been around a lot longer than most people may think. In its infancy, however, it was mostly viewed as “second-rate” or an avenue for “unworthy” books to get published. At one point, the Romance Writers of America (RWA) would not consider indie books for many of their awards. The “system” at that time prevented many good writers and good books from being published. It is no industry secret that many manuscripts sat in what was termed “slush piles” for months without being read but the authors sent a formed rejection letter as if they had been. Authors grew weary of waiting and rejection and more and more began self-publishing (which is no easy feat.) But as eBooks grew in popularity, self-publishing methods became easier—still not easy but easier.

With it being easier to publish, one may assume it’s overall easier for new authors. Not really, unless that author has a massive social media presence or is a celebrity. The reason: there are more books out there than ever. This is wonderful for readers—choice, choice, choice. But it makes it more difficult for new authors to be noticed. Well-established authors still have big publishing houses to pour lots of effort, resources, and money into marketing. Many newer and lesser-established authors are not afforded that luxury.

But what about social media? Well, back in the day (yes, dating myself), there used to be social media groups that would push out (by posting) release announcements and advertisements for free. However, most of these groups were shut down for “spamming.” Most writers recognize that as a red herring dismissal so these social media sites could charge for ads. And let me just tell you about paid ads. It was my experience with one site (and no, I again won’t name names) that my ad was sent to bot accounts. Basically, wasted money. How do I know they were bot accounts? Well, I can’t be 100% certain, but when I went to the majority of these accounts, they had no profile picture, no personalized user name, no or few posts, and no followers. I did not see an increase in generated sales. All I could see was how many times the ad was allegedly viewed—again, bots.

The point is, even paid advertisements do not guarantee a growth in exposure. That is why authors are so very appreciative when readers who do run across their pages, posts, and/or ads share them. It is why leaving a review can be so helpful to authors. It’s not only the words left but the engagement that helps. So, on this Valentine’s Day, it’s a heartfelt please to open your heart and spread the love by leaving a like, comment, post, or review for those new and upcoming romance authors. Even if their books aren’t your personal cup of tea, maybe you know someone who it is. Besides, authors love hearing from readers. It’s a way for them to learn what readers want.

This isn’t a call to abandon mainstream authors. The writing space is infinite, and there is more than enough room for everyone. It’s just that lesser-established authors often need a little more help to get themselves out there.

And that’s all I got for today. Now, it’s your turn to sound off. Let me know your thoughts below in the comment section. Your feedback allows me to know the content that you want to read. And if you like this post, consider clicking the like button and sharing.

Demon Rodeo

If Brokeback Mountain, 8 Seconds, Poltergeist, and Supernatural had an orgy, Demon Rodeo would be the lovechild.

Demon Rodeo is available now on Amazon. For video book trailers, visit my TikTok page. The full blurb is on my Instagram and Amazon.

Demon Rodeo is the first book in the Chasing the Buckle series but can be read as a standalone. It’s a friends-to-lovers romance set in the rodeo world. These are not your typical cowboys. It’s a widely diverse cast of characters and a mashup of genres that aren’t always seen together. If you’re looking for a palate cleanser, this may be a book for you.

Order
⇨ Amazon: https://readerlinks.com/l/4174852
⇨ All Stores: https://books2read.com/u/bP8RG7

*Note: All of my books can be purchased from brick-and-mortar bookstores (e.g., Barnes & Noble, Book-A-Million, etc.) as well if requested at the checkout counter.)

Locker Room Love

 Locker Room Love Series

Are you searching for a sexy book boyfriend? You’ve come to the right place.

• Out of the Penalty Box (book #1) One minute in the box or a lifetime out.
• Defending the Net (book #2) Crossing the line could cost the game.
• Ice Gladiators (book #3) When the gloves come off, the games begin.
• Penalty Kill (book #4) Let the pucker begin.
• Future Goals (book #5) The future lies between a puck and a net.

About the Author

Hi, I’m Genevive, and I am a contemporary sports romance author. My home is in South Louisiana. If you like snark and giggles with a touch of steamy Cajun and Creole on the side, I may have your poison in my stash of books. Drop by the bayou and have a look around. The pirogues are always waiting for new visitors.

Until next time, happy reading and much romance. Laissez le bon temps rouler.

If you’re not following my blog, Creole Bayou, what are you waiting for? There’s always room at the bayou.

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