Hello Sexy Readers,

Thanks for joining me on Delilah Devlin’s blog today, and a huge shout out to her as well. I hope everyone is excited for the holidays. I know I am. I plan on making great memories. So what if my kids are twenty, eighteen, and fourteen? We’ll still be making gingerbread houses, decking the halls, watching all the animated Christmas movies, and enjoying our favorite homemade goodies.

While I was writing Triple Naughty Christmas, I incorporated a few of my family’s holiday rituals here and there, including the all-important sausage balls. I know: Everyone makes them, but mine are the best. I cook up a bunch of those tasty hors d’oeuvres every year and take a batch of them to every family gathering I attend. Everyone raves and no one understands why their sausage balls don’t come out as well. Friends and relatives always ask for the recipe which I graciously provide with a smile on my face.

Now I won’t bore you with my sausage ball recipe. It’s the same one you’ll find on any number of websites, and having it means nothing. What I will do you, is fill you lovelies in on all my secrets (Yay for pen names—can’t let my in-laws know I’ve been holding out on them.). The first trick is simple enough: milk. The high calcium drink isn’t listed in the ingredients for sausage balls in my cookbook, and it’s usually omitted in most, but you need it. If you try to mix two or more cups of baking mix in with your sausage and cheese without a few splashes, you are going to have some hard, dry balls (yuck!) Don’t ask how much to add. It depends on how much baking mix you use. I’ve seen recipes call for anywhere between one cup (amateurs) to three and a half to pair with their shredded cheese and one pound of sausage (What are they thinking?) Trust me. Two cups are all you need. The consistency will tell you if you’ve used the right amount of milk or if you need to add more. If you manage to put too much milk in, well, bless your heart. You can salvage by adding some more baking mix but all bets are off on you reaching holiday pork nirvana.

Rule two: Use your hands (Wash them well first, of course). I’ve seen people use mixers or expensive food processors so they don’t have to touch raw pork. Good luck with that—it’s not going to taste right unless you get your hands in there and mix it to perfection. This holiday treat is a tradition and a labor of love. You have to finesse it with your own fingers before rolling those puppies into pretty balls.

Now if you follow rules one and two, you will have some yummy sausage balls, but they still likely won’t be as good as mine because rule three is key. Buy premium sausage! I recommend the hot Bass Farms if it is available in your area. If not, you will have to labor with trial and error until you find what’s best and freshest in your neck of the woods. Of course, what’s really important is that you get your loved ones in the kitchen with you to knead your mixture and roll your balls. Have fun and Bon appetite!

*****

Two husbands, four kids, a gaggle of nosy neighbors, a car accident, the best present ever, a naughty party, and a mother-in-law expected for Christmas.

How will Trisha ever pull it off?

Triple Naughty Christmas by Sierra Brave

Series: Triple Passion Play – Book Four

Hashtags: #Menage #BisexualRomance #RomanticComedy #Holiday

Release date: 29th November 2019 (Preorder Available)

Amazon Buy Links: US, UK, CA, AU

Also Available at other Major Retailers: https://books2read.com/u/bzvGw9

What it’s all about…

Navigating the Yuletide season can be a challenge for anyone but after hosting their family Christmas celebration for more than fifteen years, forty-something mom, Trisha Marks-Davidson, believes she’s conquered Santa and tamed all of his reindeer. Anything but ordinary, Trisha’s family of seven consists of herself, her two husbands, Tommy and Ken, and their four kids. Despite their unusual situation, she’s cultivated a system for a fun-filled holiday packed with their own special traditions.

Trisha, Tommy, and Ken are pleased with the quiet, comfortable life they’ve built together but are disturbed to learn the novelty of their three-way union still hasn’t worn off for some members of their community even after nearly two decades. A last-minute decision to attend a neighborhood Christmas party could be the trio’s undoing. The opportunity to set the record straight is there for the taking but actions speak louder than words and temptation is all around them.

Excerpt:

Glancing at the mirror, Ken caught the reflection of a slight movement in the shadows just outside the door and sighed. “Just how long have you been skulking in the darkness?”

“Long enough.” Trisha stepped into the room with them. Bathed in the bathroom’s bright lights, her platinum highlights shimmered within her long, sandy-colored locks. Ken glanced at Thomas, noting the way he eyed Trisha’s tanned, toned and completely nude form. Ken couldn’t blame him. Even after all these years, she was an impressive beauty and Thomas hadn’t seen her for a few days. A primal yearning stirred within Ken as he watched his husband’s gaze eyes linger over Trisha’s breasts and taut nipples before breezing over her tummy to her bikini area’s neatly trimmed triangle of curls. Ken stepped closer to her, slipping his arms around her waist and pressing a smooch against her soft, warm lips. She smelled of sex and cinnamon-scented body lotion. “Why didn’t you join us?”

“You two seemed to be doing just fine on your own, and I didn’t want to interrupt your anniversary sex.” Ken ran his hands over the small of Trisha’s back before cupping her naked ass. She was in pretty good shape by any standards, but for a forty-four-year-old, mother of four, she was a goddess.

“I can’t believe you were hiding in the shadows like a stalker.” Thomas wagged his head at her.

“Well…I was awoken by the unmistakable sound of my husband receiving a blow job, and by the time I was able to force myself out of bed to check things out, you two were intensely focused on each other. Honestly, I couldn’t pry my eyes away. It was so hot!”

Ken smacked her butt playfully, eliciting a tiny squeal, “Naughty peeper. Maybe I should grab the hairbrush and punish you.” Trisha’s face lit up. She enjoyed playing the naughty college co-ed to his strict professor, and Ken loved the way her ass jiggled when he spanked her. Sadly, Thomas was never interested in playing those games with them. Ken’s cock twitched a hair at the mere thought of putting the big, sexy blond man over his knee.

“I already came, but if we have any more of those little, blue pills, I’ll be glad to give you equal time, Trish.” Thomas smiled at her from his partially slumped-over position on the side of the tub. Ken smirked, secretly proud to have drained the poor guy dry.

Leaning against the counter with her legs crossed at the ankles, Trisha shook her head, a smirk playing on her pouty lips. “I’m good. Why do you think Ken and I were naked when you got home?”

*****

Other books in the Triple Passion Play series: Can love between three survive?

Rock You Like a Hurricane

The Power of Three

Baby Makes Four

Connect with Sierra

Website: https://sierrabrave.rocks/

Newsletter Sign up: https://mailchi.mp/7332d9f55a11/blushing-press-sign-up-page

FB: https://www.facebook.com/Sierra-Brave-1422713414692067/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/BraveSierra

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sierrabraveauthor/

What I’m working on…

When Worlds Collide is the first book in the Crenshaw brothers series. It is the first ever—my extensive research supports this assumption—pickleball romance. Pickleball is a racket sport, a hot one at that, and I feature this sport in my very first pickleball romance. I’m in the editing process, a crucial part in my approach to writing. This is the place where I see my characters solidify as they evolve with the narration. Two-dimensional aspects turn realistic. Contrary to the creative process when I’m just beginning a book, the editing stage is intense and deeply satisfying. I call this my “holing up” period. I’m off everyone’s radar for a bit which can mean anything from a few days to weeks. I come out of my hole when friends begin to question my whereabouts.

In between I add on to promoting my new romance to be released in February 2020 as I wear many hats being the writer, publisher, publicist and marketing CEO of Karma’s Slow Burn.

Karma’s Slow Burn

Karma’s Slow Burn, promo price of $1.99 on pre-order until date of release on 1 Feb 2020!

Buy Links:
www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07ZJSZD5X
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/957769

Sportswriter Karma Huntington is going to hit Rafael Henley, star pitcher for the Sliders, hard to avenge her husband’s death. Rafael cannot ignore the chemistry between them and decides a one-night stand is in order. Karma agrees. Just to get that itch off. But once they get into each other’s pants, things get complicated. Revenge and guilt take a back seat with sizzling chemistry in control. Rafael likes willowy blondes and women who don’t look to him as their protector. Yet here is, lusting after the complete opposite: petite, raven-haired, Karma with a rose tat running up her neck. Can Rafael overcome the dark secret he hides and give in to what his heart wants? Will Karma finally admit she needs Rafael?

Excerpt

Reverie? What kind of a man used such an old-fashioned word?

Karma hoped he wasn’t expecting polite conversation and was glad when he maintained silence. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore and opened her eyes. His features were bathed in the silver light of the moon. Dark hair maybe. That nose. There was something about it. And those lips. She’d seen them before.

“Henley! What are you doing here? On my spot?”

He peered at her, angled his face and his features came into focus. “Your spot? I distinctly heard you say this is free and not yours to own, Karma.”

“This,” using her index fingers, she made a square in the air right before her face, “is my spot. That,” she jabbed a finger in a vague direction away from her, “is yours.”

“All right then. Now that’s clear.”

“Anyway Henley, what are you doing here?”

“Getting back from my mother’s. She lives up there,” he pointed with his chin.

“You’ll have to spell that out. Can’t see a bloody thing in this moonlight.”

“Right over on Miranda Ave. And you?”

“Midland area.”

“Right, I forgot. Small world.”

“Yeah. How’s that baby of yours?”

“The most beautiful thing on this earth.”

“ Remind me, boy or girl?”

“Girl. Alicia.”

“Think we could get together for some pictures?”

“Sure. Just let me know.”

After that, nothing more was said. Clouds wandered in bit by bit until they extinguished the light from the moon, shrouding them in its pale afterglow. Karma became increasingly aware of the figure beside her. She crinkled her nose. Definitely something woodsy maybe even citrusy. She felt the shape of his arm next to hers and had an unbearable urge to touch him. The light from the moon turned diffuse before it became dark.

When he did something, she nearly jumped out of her skin, she had so tuned out. His hand was under her chin cupping it, turning her face to him. She made out the shape of his face before he lowered his head further.

“I’m going to kiss you, Karma. You have five seconds to stop me if you don’t want this as badly as I do.”

His sexy voice slithered into her ears and five seconds later, his silky beard brushed against her cheeks and then his mouth was on hers. His other hand moved to her back pulling her closer to him and then she was in his lap.

Fireflies in the Night

Literary Fiction, winner of the 2017 Next Generation Indie Book Award; Best Books of 2016 by Kirkus Reviews; Starred Kirkus Review; Finalist Foreword Reviews Indie Fiction Award. A historical, coming-of-age novel.

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01HZS28CW

About the Author

Nalini Warriar dreamed of being a writer then forgot the dream for a bit as she went on to garner a Ph.D in Molecular Biology. While in her lab, the dream came back and hit her on the head, and she’s never looked back, writing through her years as a scientist. After more than a decade in cancer research, Nalini returned to the creative part of her soul and now devotes her time to dreaming up the perfect alpha male and feisty woman to appear in her books. Her novel, Fireflies in the Night, was a Foreword Reviews Fab Award finalist and won the Next Generation Indie Book Award in 2017. Kirkus Reviews awarded Fireflies in the Night a starred review and named it Best Books of 2016. Karma’s Slow Burn, a contemporary romance will be released in February 2020. She’s working on her next romance, a Crenshaw Brothers book, to be released in 2020. She lives in Ontario, Canada.

Author Links
www.facebook.com/authornaliniwarriar
www.amazon.com/author/naliniwarriar
Twitter: @nwarriar

“America is now wholly given over to a damned mob of scribbling women, and I should have no chance of success while the public is occupied with their trash.”

Sounds like contemporary critics of the romance genre, doesn’t it? This little gem was penned by Nathaniel Hawthorne to his publisher in 1855 because his female contemporaries were reaping critical acclaim and outselling him.

I first heard this quote in a keynote speech this past October given by Maya Rodale. Intrigued, I wondered who was “Mr. Scarlet Letter” complaining about. This 2013 article gave me more than a clue:

https://www.bookslut.com/the_bombshell/2013_06_020173.php

Among this damned scribbling mob was the woman to whom Abraham Lincoln is supposed to have said, “So you are the little woman who wrote the book that started this great war.”

That’s right: Harriet Beecher Stowe.

Harriet Beecher Stowe? A writer of trash? Hardly.

Stowe had been writing for fifteen years before Uncle Tom’s Cabin was published in 1852. In addition to novels, she wrote non-fiction, poetry and a drama based on Uncle Tom’s Cabin.

Uncle Tom’s Cabin has gotten a bad rap through the years, but think about how radical it was for a White woman in the 1850’s to have a Black slave representing Christ at a time when her society was debating whether or not African-Americans were even human. We don’t have to imagine the impact of seeing slaves depicted with dignity, loyalty, and willing to be self-sacrificing had in that era. Even Lincoln recognized the power of her novel. What I never imagined was the backlash it received. Her depiction of African-Americans as human beings was so despised there was a slew of anti-Uncle Tom novels written to offset her novel’s impact. Needless to say, they failed.

As I’ve learned more about Stowe’s religious views and social justice activities, I understand better why her novel hit the nerve it did when it did. She wrote from her heart about a cause she believed in, unlike Mr. worried-about-having-no-chance-of-success Hawthorne. I’m eager to read more of her works and more works about her because I want to be a scribbling woman like her.

Better to Marry Than to Burn

Wife Wanted: Marital relations as necessary. Love not required nor sought…

A bridal lottery seems the height of foolishness to ex-slave Caesar King, but his refusal to participate in the town council’s scheme places him in a bind. He has to get married to avoid paying a high residence fine or leave the Texas territory. After losing his wife in childbirth, Caesar isn’t ready for romance. A woman looking for a fresh start without any emotional strings is what he needs.

Queen Esther Payne, a freeborn black from Philadelphia, has been threatened by her family for her forward-thinking, independent ways. Her family insists she marry. Her escape comes in the form of an ad. If she must marry, it will be on her terms. But her first meeting with the sinfully hot farmer proves an exciting tussle of wills that stirs her physically, intellectually, and emotionally.

In the battle of sexual one-upmanship that ensues, both Caesar and Queen discover surrender can be as fulfilling as triumph.

Excerpt:

WARNING! This is hot!!

With thanks to God, he pushed past her flimsy drawers to the moist welcome of her center. Her vaginal walls gripped his fingers with surprising force. No amount of twisting or turning wrenched them free. God, to have that grip surrounding his shaft.

He pulled back and studied her face. Eyes still closed, a sly smile bowed her perfect lips. She enjoyed this battling as much as he.

“Was I too brutal for your enjoyment, Mrs. King?”

Her eyelids rose with the slow grace of sunrise. A gleam as sly as her smile shone in her gaze. “You call that brutal, Mr. King?”

She unclenched her lower muscles, allowing his fingers momentary retreat. With great care, she grasped his hand then slid his fingers between her folds once more.

“Holy Christ, woman. What—?”

The gentle rubbing robbed him of his ability to think.

“Jesus, have mercy,” he wheezed.

She slid his fingers from her wet sex into his mouth. He moaned, lost in her delectable taste.

Without taking her gaze from his face, she raked her gloved hand down his chest, across his belly, to his groin. Anticipation tensed his muscles in the wake of her touch. He watched mesmerized as, with a practiced ease, she unbuttoned his fly, pushed past the fabric, sought, found and stroked his cock. Her woolen gloves imparted a delicious friction he couldn’t oppose, even if he’d wanted. Delight enlivened every muscle in his body, including his jaded heart.

Jesus. This couldn’t be more than arousal. Could it?

Her fingers squeezed and his body arched upward on the yes swelling his spirit with joy. He threw back his head, mouth open, ready to shout as he neared the point of release.

Then she let him go.

He doubled over, slain by the abandonment. His lungs constricted, bereft of air. Reason deserted him too.

She stood and smoothed down her skirts with the hand that had massaged his shaft more deftly than he ever had. Reseated, she grabbed the reins and snapped the leather against his horse’s rump.

“Get up there.”

The wagon jostled Caesar from side to side. Still unable to straighten up, he looked into eyes gleaming with triumph. Her lips curved in a regal smirk.

“Was I too brutal for your enjoyment, Mr. King?”

Buy links:
Wild Rose Press – https://www.thewildrosepress.com/books/better-to-marry-than-to-burn
Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Better-Marry-than-Michal-Scott-ebook/dp/B07BK1JPKX/

Thanks to Delilah for letting me pop onto her blog on my birthday. Shout out to all my fellow Scorpios!

I just launched the latest novel in my steamy contemporary Thirsty Hearts series. For a few years, I’ve outlined some books that added a paranormal twist. I’m fascinated by the world of psychics and cartomancy and have developed a total tarot card addiction that’s finally under control now that I’m channeling that energy into my writing. Kisses & Kismet features an enemies-to-lovers story with a twist of magic. There’s a psychic, a ghost, and a hero with a sly secret.

Kisses & Kismet

The heroine, Lilith Carver has suppressed her abilities as a psychic and a medium since a frightening incident with her foster sister when they were teenagers. Lilith and Kali, her sister, have been estranged, but the death of Kali’s boyfriend brings them back together. It also puts both women at odds with the man’s son, Jamie Wylde. Jamie and Lilith have sparks from the start as they’re on opposite sides of a fight over the Wylde family estate.

Lilith will do anything for her sister—even use the gifts she’s tried to ignore to uncover Jamie’s secrets. Jamie’s plan to exclude Kali from the Wylde fortune has one obstacle. Lilith. Equally matched and battling to win, Lilith and Jamie find themselves wanting to win at love above all else.

For more on Kisses & Kismet, read the excerpt below. As happens when I’m writing, I fall in love with the characters and the world. I have a story brewing in my mind for Kali as well, so stay tuned! It will be a second-chance romance, and when you read Kisses & Kismet, I’ll bet you’ll be able to guess with whom.

Buy Links:
Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07XHT9FPY
Apple – https://books.apple.com/us/book/kisses-kismet/id1479304700
B&N – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/2940160899992
Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/kisses-kismet

Excerpt from Kisses & Kismet:

Jamie lifted his chin to a haughty angle, but his evasive glance told me I was right. Preston was trying to tell me something. If I wanted to help Kali, I would have to set fire to the carefully reinforced walls at the edges of my psyche and listen.

“And you should be more careful of the truth,” I snapped.

“No. Your sister should.”

“What does that mean?” I edged closer to him.

“Ask her.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I don’t have to listen to this.” He flipped the watch at his wrist to eye level. “Shit. I’m supposed to be somewhere.”

“You can’t run away. This isn’t over, you know.”

“Oddly, I do,” he grunted with a grim smile. “You’re relentless.”

I took another step forward and poked the center of his chest. The grumble of my own voice through gritted teeth shocked even me. “You have no idea.”

His gaze snatched down to mine as he took a half step back, trapped against the open door of his fancy car. The electricity between us crackled on my skin. My breath quickened.

The dim light of the parking garage played with the angles of his face. The perfection crumbled. A rogue curl of dark hair slipped to his forehead. The arrogant mask he wore fell away revealing confusion, trepidation, and hurt.

He straightened his shoulders, adding to his height as he stared down at me, and sneered. “Is this your plan? You corner me in a parking garage and start touching me and giving me your best siren’s eyes?”

“Siren’s eyes?”

He cackled and lifted his hands up as if touching me might give him some incurable disease. “God, you and your sister are alike. But I’m not my father. I’m not going to let a little horniness make me lose my mind.”

I covered my mouth and mockingly wretched. “Ugh. I’m going to lose my lunch.”

“Really?” He snickered under his breath. “Yes. That’s why you touched me.”

“I was making a point. If you’re horny, that’s your problem.” Still, I stepped away from him. “Understand this: I’m not going to let you railroad my sister.”

I spun on my heels and stormed away, not totally sure where I parked or if I was even on the right level of the parking garage, but I didn’t dare risk looking confused. I kept walking to the other side of the elevator. Finally, the screech of his car down the exit ramp pierced through the roar of rushing blood in my ears. I closed my eyes, clenching and unclenching my fists to relax.

If I was going to fight for Kali, I needed to control my emotions. Because when they controlled me, that was a disaster.

About the Author

Kris Jayne is a devoted writer, reader, and traveler. She spends her days blissfully sweating out the writing process in the Dallas area with her dogs, Otis the Shih Tzu, Rocco the Terrier, and Red the Foxy Mutt.

Her passion for writing is only matched by her passion for the adventures of travel. In 2008, she let a friend talk her into sleeping outside for the first time in her life when she climbed Mount Kilimanjaro. If you’re buying her a gift, she has a penchant for single-malt Scotch and scarves.

In addition to Kisses & Kismet, Kris launched two holiday romances in November and has a sexy, friends-to-lovers book launching in January.

For more about all of her books, follow her online:
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/krisjayneauthor/
Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/krisjayne/
Bookbub – https://www.bookbub.com/profile/kris-jayne?follow=true
Join my VIP offer list – https://krisjayne.com/join

Thanks so much, Delilah, for the chance to meet your readers.

Until a few years ago, I was one of those readers—literary snobs who look down their noses at romance for the usual stupid reasons: too corny, too predictable, too fluffy. Then I read a few online articles about how fun and lucrative writing erotica can be. I thought, what the heck? Let’s try.

I have never had so much fun with a writing project! My first steamy romance, Through the Red Door, nearly wrote itself, though it damned sure didn’t edit itself. I’ve totally immersed myself in the world of romance, gobbling books like popcorn, filling my ears with romance podcasts, and joining the Romance Writers of America. From skeptic to romance mega-fan in two short years, I’m totally addicted to passionate, heartfelt stories with happy endings.

My Book Nirvana series offers steamy contemporary romance set in a bookshop in Eugene, Oregon. Why a bookshop? Ever since I was a wee lass, I dreamed of owning one. Add to that my fascination with historical erotic art and literature, and you’ve got the perfect setting for love to bloom: an indie bookshop with an extensive erotica collection behind a locked red door. Of course, there’s a cool, quirky coffee shop next door.

I love stories in which a couple’s powerful physical attraction leads them to consider a partner outside their usual M.O.—one who just might turn out to be their perfect match. That’s how it happened for my husband and me, as well as for Clara, the bookshop’s owner, and Laurel, her assistant. I’m currently writing Book 3 in the series, featuring Margot, Clara’s spiky-haired young assistant, a senior at the University of Oregon.

I sort of pulled the setting out of a hat. I wanted to set my series in a college town. I’d heard that Eugene has a lively arts scene and a rich counterculture legacy from the hippie era. After much online research, correspondence, and hours on Google Earth, I finally made the trip. Eugene is even lovelier than I’d imagined, and I look forward to many return trips to this sparkling jewel on the Willamette River.

Wherever I travel, I make a point of visiting the local indie bookshops. Here in Tacoma, Washington, we have a very special one. King’s Books welcomes readers, writers, and local artists with a huge, well-curated collection of new and used books, as well as thirteen book clubs, plus writers’ groups, author events, art fairs, and more. I had a blast at their Romance Bookstore Day event. King’s Books’ collection has “a little bit of everything,” with a special focus on social justice, female authors, and authors of color. The children’s collection is especially popular, offering young readers books with strong female protagonists as well as characters from a wide variety of backgrounds. Rather than having a “Diversity Section,” King’s Books strives to showcase diversity in every section of the bookshop.

Meet Herbert, shop cat since 2015.
He’s a sweetheart and will gladly share his book recommendations.

Through the Red Door, Book Nirvana #1

Letting him inside could be her salvation…or her undoing.

Clara Martelli clings to Book Nirvana, the Oregon bookshop she and her late husband Jared built together. When rising rents and corporate competition threaten its survival, her best hope is their extensive erotica collection, locked behind a red door. In dreams and signs, her dead husband tells her it’s time to open that door and move on. When a dark and handsome stranger’s powerful magnetism jolts her back to life and he wants a look at the treasures of that secret room, she can’t help but want to show him more.

Professor Nick Papadopoulos is looking for historical erotica. Book Nirvana’s collection surpasses his wildest dreams, and so does its lovely owner. A widower, he understands Clara’s battle with guilt, but their searing chemistry is too strong to resist. Besides, he will only be in town for two weeks, not long enough for her to see beyond the scandal that haunts his past.

Excerpt:

Nick pressed his back against the red door and blew out a long, shaky breath. He’d heard about Book Nirvana for years, but nothing prepared him for what he found inside. The shop was aptly named, that was for damned sure.

From the first jingle of the brass bell over the doorway, he knew this place was something special. The sweet, almost edible scent of books, both new and used, wafted out to greet him. The early-summer sunlight bathed the shop in a welcoming glow and highlighted the colorful posters on the walls—Peter Max’s psychedelic sunset pointing toward the art books, the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine above the music section, and a lush still life of fruit, bread, and wine for the cooking section. Further down the long, narrow space, comic superheroes, a futuristic spacescape, an armored knight charging into battle, and, above a lacquered red door at the rear, Ingres’s La Grande Odalisque threw a languid glance over her bare shoulder—at once an invitation and a dare.

But the jewel of the collection was Clara herself. His friend at the University of Oregon told him about the pretty shop owner, but “pretty” hardly did her justice. Her unruly dark hair glimmered with just a hint of red fire. Those eyes—dark, like the Pacific on a stormy day, somewhere between green and gray—eyes a man could get lost in. Something about this woman set his pulse to revving like a race car at the starting line. Caught off guard by her startling beauty, he’d behaved like a horny teenager, ogling as her delicate fingers fiddled with the locket between her breasts. She noticed, too. Damn.

Buy links: Amazon Barnes & Noble Google Play Kobo iTunes

Runaway Love Story, Book Nirvana #2

Fierce passion or long-cherished dreams…she can’t hang onto both.
She hates average…he’s as average as they come.

High school history teacher Doug Garvey is trying to enjoy his last few weeks of summer vacation, but receiving his final divorce decree hits him harder than expected. After a brief fling fizzles, he fears love just isn’t in the cards for him. If only he could find someone who’s real, someone interested in something beyond herself…maybe a new running partner who can keep up with his more carnal appetite. When sexy, straight-talking Laurel runs across his path, he dares to hope again.

He’s done with social-climbing posers…she’s ambitious and has big dreams.

Fired from an art gallery, Laurel Jepsen shelves her pursuit of an art career in San Francisco to help her beloved great aunt Maxie move into assisted living. While out on a morning run, she’s harassed by a group of teens until a tall, broad-shouldered hottie steps in, pretending to be her boyfriend with a kiss that makes her wish it were true. But she’s only passing through, not looking for a relationship.

Their fierce chemistry burns up the sheets—and the couch, the shower, the forest—but falling in love would ruin everything. Laurel can’t stay in Eugene, and he can’t leave. Doug’s only hope is to convince her the glittery life she’s after could blind her to the opportunities already in her path.

Get your copy here!

I’m writing a series about a cat café. But I don’t have cats. Huh?

I love cats. I have known cats and enjoyed them in small doses. But tragically, I am very allergic to cats, so I cannot let one keep me as a servant. (I’m getting allergy shots, so maybe that will change in the future.)

Instead, my husband and I keep ferrets. They are similar to cats in some ways. When they play, they are as rambunctious as kittens. Like adult cats, they sleep most of the time.

So I will write about a cat cafe, which gives me a chance to look at lots of pictures and videos of adorable cats and kittens, such as this slide show of 29 Cats Taking Naps In Odd Positions from Pawsome.

As far as the café side of things go, the novel mentions several delicious baked treats. The recipe for Cookie Dough Brownies (link is to my blog) is included at the back of Coffee and Crushes at the Cat Café. I add a from-scratch brownie recipe there, but here’s the quicker version, just in time for holiday parties and cookie exchanges!

What’s your favorite pet? What’s your favorite sweet treat? Please share!

Coffee and Crushes at the Cat Café: A Furrever Friends Sweet Romance

What do you do when you meet the guy of your dreams? Set him up with your sister, of course.

Kari doesn’t have time for love when she’s opening her new cat café. Renovating an old restaurant, hiring employees, fighting with the health inspector – oh, and welcoming 16 shelter cats – keeps her plenty busy. She’s doing this for the cats, the community, and most of all her family. The café will give her sister, Marley, a job worthy of her baking skills.

Then a tattooed military vet wanders in claiming to be a master baker himself. The café doesn’t need another baker, but maybe Marley needs a man. Surely she’ll fall for a guy this sweet, this sexy, this tasty.

Colin has other ideas. It’s Kari who makes him want to pour on the sugar and turn up the heat. But he’s spent the last two years recovering from physical and psychological wounds. Is he really ready for a relationship? He’s not even sure he should commit to Samson, the fluffy marshmallow of a cat who steals his heart.

Get this sweet romance on Amazon, or free with Kindle Unlimited.

Here’s a short excerpt when Kari meets Colin:

He leaned back in his chair and studied the large, framed poster of kittens on the side wall. “Who wouldn’t like cats? As for coffee, I’m not a connoisseur, but I like a good cup, and I can learn all the fancy stuff.” His gaze returned to her. “I started cooking mainly to feed myself. I was getting flabby from too much fast food.”

He didn’t look flabby now.

A smile softened his lips. “Turns out cooking is fun. Focusing on the colors, the smells, the tastes. That helps keep me in the moment better than meditation. Eventually I got into baking.”

Kari sat up straighter. “You bake?” They already had a baker: her sister. But Marley couldn’t work seven days a week. Plus, this would give Marley and Colin something to talk about. Something to do together. Marley’s son was nine. He was old enough to handle his mother dating, and Marley needed more fun in her life.

Colin liked cats. He did yoga, baked, and knitted. He was open about his need for counseling. Lots of checks on the nice guy list.

Colin leaned forward and said in a seductive voice, “You should try my salted caramel blondies.”

About the Author

Kris Bock writes novels of romance, mystery, and suspense. Her Furrever Friends Sweet Romance series features the employees and customers at a cat café. Watch as they fall in love with each other and shelter cats.

Kris also writes romantic suspense set in the Southwestern U.S. If you love Mary Stewart or Barbara Michaels, try Kris Bock’s stories of treasure hunting, archaeology, and intrigue in the Southwest. Read excerpts at www.krisbock.com or visit her Amazon page. Sign up for the Kris Bock newsletter for announcements of new books, sales, and more.

Thank you for inviting me to write a guest blog.

In 1915, my grandfather and his brother enlisted with the Australian Imperial Forces and set sail for what so many believed would be the adventure of a lifetime. Teach the Germans a lesson and be home by Christmas. For the next three years they were involved in horrific battles on the Western Front – Amiens, Fromelles and Villiers Bretonneux to name a few. Both came home but were never the same men again.

In 2015, I joined an Anzacs on the Western Front tour, visiting those battlefields. Looking at the lovely towns and villages it was hard to imagine the horrors of that war until our guide held up enlarged photos of blackened, treeless wastelands torn apart by shelling and littered with bodies of men and horses. Visiting the immaculately kept Commonwealth War Graves and memorials was humbling. Thousands of graves of young men who never came home. Particularly sad was the inscription on so many headstones – “Known Only to God”. I could only assume their bodies were unrecognizable and their identity discs destroyed or buried in the mud or blown elsewhere. When our guide told us the huge numbers of deaths in each battle, it brought home the utter waste of that war and how awful the task would have been identifying and recording deaths and injuries on their service records.

After the tour ended, I got to wondering if it was possible for a soldier to swap identity discs with another who had been killed in battle. In those days, war service records were hand-written with basic personal descriptions – name, date of birth, place of birth, marital status, nationality, religion, height, weight and colouring. Curiosity grew to a real need to know because I was sure it would have happened — a soldier suffering shock and wanting to escape or desperate to make a new life somewhere else. As a historical fiction author, I believe we must research the era of our story to provide an authentic as possible background. We can’t throw our characters headfirst into history and hope for the best. So, I contacted London’s Imperial War Museum and the Australian War Memorial in Canberra asking that question — were discs stolen or swapped. Both replied that it was possible, but the chance of discovery was very real and the penalties very harsh. Neither would confirm it did happen but that was good enough for me to begin my third book, The Proposition.

The Proposition

They met on the eve of battle. One enlisted to avoid prison, the other enlisted to avoid the money lenders. On the bloodied fields of France, Harry Connelly collapses beside the corpse of Andrew Conroy. It’s a risk, a hanging offence, but it’s his only hope for a future. Harry swaps identity discs. Now Andrew, he’s just another face in post war London until a letter arrives with a proposition, plunging him into a nightmare of murder, family jealousy and greed. To survive he must live this lie without a mistake, until Lacey, the truth and the consequences.

Excerpt

“Excuse me, call of nature.”

The niggling coil of unease had been growing and now, as Andrew watched the dining room door close behind Elliot, his instincts were jabbing at him. His host had been charming and hospitable. Last night, after a delicious dinner at Browns Hotel, they’d touched on their family connection, unsure of what to say without offending the other. Elliot had twirled his glass between his fingers. “My grandparents made a lot of money from the textile industry, my father sold seventy percent of those businesses and invested in other profitable enterprises. To put it simply, he was a very astute, successful businessman, but I’m afraid he was not a good husband and father. He cared little for us and it distresses me that he cared even less for you and your mother.”

Today, Elliot had proudly introduced him to his pride and joy, a dark grey Austin-20hp and they’d motored smoothly out of London and onto the soft Essex countryside. When they’d stopped at Thaxted’s Swan Inn for lunch, Elliot had commented, “Every spare acre in Essex has been growing vegetables, doing their bit for the war effort and rationing.” When they continued on to Saffron Walden, he’d pointed to his left, “Railway station, a branch line from Audley End. Made a big difference to this town.” They’d stopped briefly in High Street, then through the marketplace, bumping over cobblestones to a wider road and finally stopping at the entrance of a large Victorian house. He’d been shown to his room overlooking the rear of the house with its garden rows of vegetables.

Elliot had apologised again, business to attend to and please make himself at home. Not used to the substantial meals, he’d slept until five pm. At seven pm, he’d joined Elliot in the dining room where silver serving dishes containing roast beef, baked potatoes and green vegetables sat on spirit warmers. “Very informal this evening,” Elliot had said breezily. “I asked my daily help to prepare something easy for us, so please, help yourself.” The only time his host’s friendliness disappeared was when the daily help tapped on the door to tell him she’d answered the phone and left the message on the phone pad. Something was very wrong, or perhaps he was too jumpy from living on this tight rope of lies.

The door opened again. “Much more comfortable,” Elliot grinned. “More wine?”

“No thank you, I might not be able to climb the stairs, but I must thank you for another very pleasant evening.”

Elliot’s grin disappeared. “It’s time to discuss the business proposition which will give us both what we want.”

“I confess I was intrigued when I received your letter,” Andrew replied guardedly.

“You will perform a service and if that service is completed satisfactorily, I will pay you three hundred pounds and pay your outstanding debts.”

Andrew went perfectly still. “Perform a service?”

“You will impregnate the woman I married.”

About the Author

Jan Selbourne grew up in Melbourne, Australia. Her love of literature and history began as soon as she could hold a pen. Her career started in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting then a working holiday in the UK brought the history to life. Now retired, Jan can indulge her love of writing and travel. She has two children and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.

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