There’s no question that ménage is one of my favorite subgenres of erotic romance to read and write.  To date, I have nine published books that feature a ménage in one form or another, and I’m in the process of adding even more to the list. Despite my modest little catalog of threesomes—or maybe because of it—I get asked quite often why I choose to write ménages into my stories. Most of the time the question comes from non-romance-reading friends, and I suspect they’re hoping I’ll spill the news that I’m writing these books from real life experience and have been hiding a third partner in the closet all these years. Which is totally true. But I do occasionally allow them out of the closet to eat and do the dishes. I’m not a complete slave master. Yeesh.

But I digress. The main reason I love to write these books is because of the challenge creating a love story for three or more people and what they bring to the table. Face it, making a relationship work between two is tough. Adding a third or more to the mix puts you up against what seems like insurmountable odds. You have societal pressure that comes from existing in a relationship outside the norm. Your own internal pressure of dealing with emotions that extend beyond just you and another. How can you even make that work? If there’s already an established relationship, what happens when you open that door to another? Will the relationship suffer, or grow?

As you see, lots of compelling conflict to spark the ole muse. In my latest ménage, Perfect Chemistry, I take it one step further by exploring the steamy implications of an office place threesome. Although my heroine, Sidney, has a bit of a wild girl past, lusting after her bosses is something that she’s desperate to put the kibosh on. But fate and a closed-circuit camera are about to turn her world upside down…

Perfect Chemistry

Available from Amazon

When it comes to sexy geeks, Leo Martinez and Devlin Hawke are as hot as they get. But falling for the wrong guy has always been Sidney Chase’s forte. She’s not about to submit to her inner bad girl by giving in to her secret fantasies about her sex-on-a-stick bosses. When she’s accidentally exposed to the supercharged aphrodisiac in their lab, Sidney tosses aside her inhibitions and unknowingly provides her bosses with an eye-popping display of self lovin’ courtesy of the office security cameras. Despite their mutual craving for Sidney, Leo and Devlin made a pact long ago to keep her off-limits. The last thing they’d wanted was to scare off their best PA by overwhelming her with their kinky tendencies. Witnessing the arousing effects of their aphrodisiac elixir on Sidney changes everything. Not only is she the answer they’ve been looking for in regards to fine-tuning their formula, she’s the perfect woman for them. And with a little help from one helluva sinful science experiment, they’ll prove that love is far more potent than anything manufactured in a bottle. Warning: This red-hot office romance contains 3 parts sizzling m/f/m menage, 2 parts sexy and sweet geeks, one part wicked bondage and sex toys, and a whole lot of combustible chemistry. Safety glasses required.

****

At the ripe age of seven, Jodi Redford penned her first epic, complete with stick figure illustrations. Sadly, her drawing skills haven’t improved much, but her love of fantasy worlds never went away. These days she writes about fairies, ghosts, and other supernatural creatures, only with considerably more heat. She has won numerous contests, including The Golden Pen and Launching a Star. When not writing or working the day job, she enjoys gardening and way too many reality television shows. She loves to hear from readers. You can email her at jodiredford@jodiredford.com and visit her online at www.jodiredford.com and her blog www.jodiredford.blogspot.com . You can also find her on Facebook and Twitter. Jodi’s Amazon Author Page.

A cold front’s coming through, a cold front’s coming through. In Texas, that warrants just as much excitement as a national holiday. In fact, maybe even more so. God seems to leave the heater on in Texas more than the AC and after months and months of hot weather a little cold front would be nice. Sad thing is that a “cold” front in Texas would only be considered a cool breeze, or maybe even a warm breeze in a place like Montana. But, hey, we’ll take what we can get.

Fall weather represents everything that makes me smile. Warm cups of coffee in the afternoon, leaves that change to bright shades of oranges, reds and yellows, sweaters, scarves and boots galore! If you asked my husband what autumn meant to him, he could sum it up in one word-Football.

His Thursdays and Saturdays are determined by how well the University of Houston plays, and if any of you follow U of H football, you would know that our weekends haven’t gone so well. Despite my husband’s ill feelings toward his alma mater’s sports program, he still takes the time to make me a large pot of chili or gumbo whenever I ask. Curling up with a bowl or mug of something warm and a good book is a rare treat now with three small children running underfoot, but I take the opportunity whenever I can.

So, what does chili and football have to do with my new story, The Ranch Hand? Absolutely nothing, but Texas and Montana does. If you’re looking for something to take you a way for a while, then let my rough and rugged Montana Man and my sweet sexy Southern Belle do the trick.

After all, the month of October is all about tricks or treating. Treat yourself to something you want to do for a change.

Erin Bevan
www.erinbevan.com

Jason Haverty is looking forward to the fall horse drive, until his boss and uncle informs him one of the new cowboys coming in to help will be riding his favorite horse. His annoyance is furthered when the cowboy turns out to be a cowgirl—a quick-witted and confident blonde beauty. Trying to avoid her doesn’t work. The more time he spends with her, the more an unexpected protectiveness toward her grows.

Bobby Jo’s Texas upbringing taught her to give just as good as she gets, a quality Jason finds frustrating and all the more endearing in this Southern Belle. When an accident on the trail places her in possible danger, Jason realizes she means more to him than he thought. The question is, does she feel the same?

You can catch The Ranch Hand here at:

https://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=242_175_141&products_id=5812

Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Ranch-Hand-Erin-Bevan-ebook/dp/B00NESA51Y/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1412342900&sr=8-2&keywords=The+Ranch+Hand

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-ranch-hand-erin-bevan/1120377505?ean=2940150686335

‘Tis the season… of ghosts, witches, curses and supernatural mysteries.

Autumn is my favorite season. It’s not just the blazing leaves ranging from ruby red to gold, nor the culinary delights of pumpkins, cranberries and sweet potatoes… it’s something deep in my Celtic soul that seeks rebirth during this time of year as the nights come earlier and mists shroud trees and fields. This is a time of reflection, gratitude and renewal. Autumn reminds me of the cycles of time – life, death and rebirth.

I’m a sacred site junkie, and was fortunate enough in younger years to stand within Stonehenge at sunrise, sit in a crop circle, and visit many places of mystery and power around the world. I’ve lived in a haunted house on the side of an isolated Irish hill, and knew no greater fear than having to get out of my car and enter the dark house alone.

I’ve collected sticks, stones and feathers all my life. Everything has a purpose. Spirit tells me things in symbolic speak – whether it’s a red-tailed hawk soaring above my car, or an ant hill in my lawn, there is a message.

My mother feared her psychic gifts. Since she was born in September and died in November, I’ll share a story here today in her honor. She went home to Ireland to die, so I was thousands of miles away at the time, in the home she’d made on the far side of the Atlantic. We’d said our good-byes before she left. One morning my father, who was with her, called and said she’d surely not make it through the day… that he’d phone after she passed away. At three o’clock in the afternoon, as I stood in her kitchen looking out over her swimming pool, I suddenly felt her around me. A little decorative tile she’d kept propped up on the kitchen countertop for years slammed face down onto the counter. I picked it up and read, ‘today is the first day of the rest of your life.’ In that moment I knew she was gone. I knew my father would phone soon, and sure enough I got the call ten minutes later. She’d stopped to touch me one more time on her way out and had summoned enough energy to put on that impressive supernatural display.

That was twenty-eight years ago, and I still value her message. You can, too. No matter what you are going through, every day we can all say, ‘today is the first day of the rest of my life.’

So, let me take a moment to share a bit about the novella – Autumn Masquerade – I released it this time last year. It’s a tribute to the beauty of this glorious season. Anna works in the corporate world and carefully guards her secret – she is a gifted psychic medium who speaks with the dead. Circumstances force her to be the only psychic at a luxurious masquerade ball in a palatial mansion, and she fears being unmasked. What will her boss think if he finds out she is psychic? Even if he doesn’t fire her, will he ever take her seriously again? Perhaps what is really bothering her is that beneath those concerns, she has fallen in love with the handsome widower. His rejection would leave her devastated. Neither of them knows that help is only a dimension away. His deceased wife decides the only way they’ll ever get their act together is with some assistance from beyond the grave.

Have a splendid autumn and be sure to read some wonderful stories.

Delilah, thanks for having me as your blog guest today.

GEMMA JULIANA is a multi-published author who lives in an enchanted cottage in north Texas with her handsome hero, teen son and a comical dog. She loves making new friends and hearing from readers. Exotic coffee and chocolate fuel her creativity.

You can buy Gemma’s books on Amazon and visit her website https://www.gemmajuliana.com.

Follow @Gemma_Juliana on Twitter: https://twitter.com/gemma_juliana

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Note from DD:

I almost didn’t get this posted in time! We had a huge storm last night that wiped out the power for hours. The house got hot. Candles made it hotter, so I blew them out and went to bed. Nothing better to do! Then one of the dogs started barking. Harry doesn’t like storms, and he expects someone to sit in the living room with him or he’s a nervous wreck. I’m not sure when power came back on, but I awoke to air-conditioned air and lights on all over the place, and with Harry nowhere to be found. Rat bastard. So, now I have a crick in my neck from sleeping in the recliner. Can you guess where I’m going as soon as I post this? Yeah, to my nice soft mattress.

Anyway, Brenda Maxfield is my guest today. Check out her new book!

Assaulted and pregnant, sixteen-year-old Lizbet Morgan is shipped off to give birth in secrecy and hand her baby over to strangers. When she returns home to her family’s strict religious community, she is expected to pick up where she left off.  But the nightmare isn’t over. Her close friend Johnny isn’t the only one asking questions, and Lizbet fears that the reason for her absence will soon be discovered. She must decide whether to tell the truth or continue to obey a religious system that forces her to tell intolerable lies. 

 Excerpt from Lizbet’s Lie

I held out the fuzzy yellow blanket, and Edie took a step closer. When I saw her hands close around it, my heart turned to brick. She yanked gently, but I couldn’t let go. She yanked again as if in a mini tug-of-war.

Ned put his arm around me. “Let go, Lizbet. Give it to Edie.”

Edie’s hands dropped from the blanket. “It’s all right, honey. You don’t have to give it to me if you don’t want to.”

“Let go,” demanded a voice behind me, and I turned to look at Farah. She stood at the entrance to the hallway where my bedroom had been located for the last seven months. Her eyes pierced mine with firm resolve. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

I turned back to Edie’s pitying expression. She gave me a gentle smile. “It was good of you to knit it for the baby.  I’ll give it to—”

“Don’t say their names!” I cried and scrunched my shoulders up to my ears. I drew a sharp breath, and Farah brushed my side where she’d come to stand.

Farah pried the blanket from my hands and handed it to Edie. “Everything is going to be fine, you’ll see,” she said close to my ear. “I’m giving Edie the blanket. Then the baby will have something to remember you by.”

Edie took the blanket and pressed it to her chest. Tears filled her eyes, and the pity in them deepened. “Lizbet, it was an honor to have you with us during these past months. You take care of yourself. And if you need anything, let us know. We know it’s over for you now, but we still care.”

Edie’s husband Steve came out from the side office. “I guess this is good-bye then. Stay in touch if you want to.”

Edie closed in. “Lizbet,” she said and her voice was low. “Beverly wants you to continue counseling. She says you aren’t finished. You ask your momma and daddy, you hear? And I’ll send them Beverly’s report.”

Ned stepped to my side and helped me into my coat. “Don’t worry, Edie. We’ll take good care of her.”

Like my folks would ever in a million years agree to counseling.

“Lizbet.” It was Farah. She looked ready to cry. “You better visit me. Don’t you forget.”

I reached out and gave her a hard hug over her bulging stomach. “If I can.”

I walked to the door and realized Ned hadn’t followed me. I turned, and he was standing before Farah staring at her like he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Ned, I’m finished here. Let’s go.”

He flinched and put his attention back on me. “Of course, Lizbet. Let’s get you home.”

Steve opened the door and the crisp spring air settled over us. I pulled my jacket a bit tighter.

“Don’t forget,” Farah called after me.

Ned’s truck was waiting under the portico. He lifted my suitcase into the bed and then opened my door. I stepped up into the cab and sat down with care, trying to situate myself against the soreness.

Ned hopped into the driver’s seat. “You okay?”

I fixed my eyes ahead through the windshield, and gazed at nothing. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Ned coughed and put the key in the ignition. The truck roared to life. “No reason. No reason at all.”

But he watched me. I could feel his eyes. I felt like I was balancing on a tightrope stretched over a cliff instead of sitting in my brother’s truck on a torn-up vinyl seat. Any tiny breeze would topple me, and I’d crash with a splat in the cavern below and no one would be able to put me together again.

The radio blasted some lame country song.

“Do they know I’m coming?” I asked.

Purchase Links:
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Brenda Maxfield Author Bio:

My passion is writing! What could be more delicious than inventing new characters and seeing where they take you?

I’m a teacher so I spend most of my waking hours with young people. I love chatting with them and hearing their views on love and life. My students are magical, and I am honored to be part of their lives.

I’ve lived in Honduras, Grand Cayman, and Costa Rica. Presently, I live in Indiana with my husband, Paul. We have two grown children and three precious grandchildren, special delivery from Africa.

When not teaching, I love to hole up in our lake cabin and write — often with a batch of popcorn nearby. (Oh, and did I mention dark chocolate?)

I enjoy getting to know my readers, so feel free to write me at: contact@brendamaxfield.com. Join my Newsletter Gang and get the latest news, contests, releases: https://mad.ly/signups/85744/join. Visit me to learn about all my books and some smart and sassy, clean teen reads: www.brendamaxfield.com  Happy Reading!

Contact Links:
Website: https://www.brendamaxfield.com
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Blog: https://www.brendamaxfield.wordpress.com
Email: contact@brendamaxfield.com
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I’ve always loved cowboys. In fact, Roy Rogers was my first crush…at age five. Although I’m known more for writing contemporary romantic suspense, I simply had to give in to the temptation of writing an erotic historical western romance series called Loving the Lawman. MASTERING THE MARSHAL is the third and latest book in the series. I’m currently intrigued by the lean-hipped, drop-dead sexy U.S. Deputy Marshal Raylan Givens and his take-no-prisoners attitude in the TNT cable series Justified. He’s beyond hot.

So tell me who you’re crushing on. Two lucky winners will receive an electronic copy of SEDUCING THE SHERIFF, book 1 of Loving the Lawman series.

Is she a dead ringer…or a dead woman walking?

When U.S. Deputy Marshal Sam Dunaway arrives in Kenton Valley, Texas, for a murder trial, the last thing he expects is to run into his late wife Celine. The one who supposedly died in a boarding house fire shortly after she ran off with his life savings.

Despite her Plain Jane disguise, Sam isn’t fooled. As soon as his business with the trial is finished, the woman who broke his heart will pay.

Three years ago, Celine had good reason to use Sam’s money to go into hiding—and it’s a secret she must still keep, even if it means certain arrest and imprisonment. Because coming clean risks crushing rejection.

In spite of themselves, the embers of love roar in to a passionate inferno, leaving Sam with a hell of a choice. To stick to his principles…or follow his heart.

Warning: This story contains a woman with a sewing basket full of secrets, and a highly pissed-off U.S. Marshal wants her dead or alive—though alive is better. Just sayin’.

EXCERPT:

Kenton Valley, Texas Hill Country, April 1890

U.S. Deputy Marshal Sam Dunaway opened the door to the sheriff’s office and nodded. “Sheriff Cordero Tate?”

The sheriff nodded. “Cord’ll do.” The sheriff was tall and broad shouldered and showed no signs of his prior tragedy. He rose and offered his hand.

“Marshal Dunaway,” Sam nodded and took the lawman’s hand. “I’d like to see the prisoner and how he’s housed.”

Tate stood and opened the door leading off the main room. It led to the cellblock, containing two cells. Only one was occupied. Barnes was stretched out, apparently asleep on the bunk—as if in a few days he wouldn’t be sleeping forever.

Sam turned and walked back to the outer office. “Appears you have a sturdy enough jail. Any chance the rest of his gang might try and break him out?”

“I’ve got two trustworthy deputies. Besides”—the sheriff shook his head—“the gang’s leader was killed last summer. The rest of ’em splintered after that. ’Course, you never know. Catching Barnes here was more of an accident than anything. He couldn’t resist visiting his sick mama. Thought he might show up, so we took turns keeping an eye on the Barnes homestead.”

“Smart thinking. If I’m not mistaken, you’re the one who killed their leader, Tyler?” Not to mention the sheriff’s new wife was half-sister to the ringleader. Wonder that didn’t complicate matters.

“That’s right.” Tate sat, gesturing for Sam to pull up a chair.

A man of few words. Good. Removing his Stetson, Sam hooked the toe of his boot around a chair leg, dragged it over and straddled it. Now they could get down to the business of the trial. “I need a place to hold the trial. Any suggestions?”

“Haven’t had much call for trials till now. There’s the school or the church or the saloon.”

“Good. I’ll check ’em out. Prefer a neutral ground over the saloon. Any chance we’ll find twelve sober men come trial time?”

Tate shrugged. “If you’d rather move the trial to a bigger town, it won’t hurt my feelings none.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m here to see he gets one. Don’t care if it’s fair or not. That’s up to the judge, not me.” He stood and settled the Stetson on his head. “I’ll head over to the church, then to the school. Let you know which one I decide.”

The sheriff nodded. “Any word on when the judge will arrive?”

“Few days. He’s presiding over a trial in Llano.” He headed to the door, then stopped. “The livery?”

“Livery stables are behind the boarding house at the north end of town. Miz Foley oughta be able to fix you up while you’re here.” Tate jerked his head in the direction of the cells. “She provides meals for the prisoner, and she’s a damn fine cook.”

Sam touched the brim of his hat, nodding his appreciation.

Outside, he untied and mounted his horse, then headed north, passing the general store and dry goods. He glimpsed the tall, slender figure of a woman standing in the window of the dry goods store, a sudden apparition that had him twisting around in his saddle to get a better look. But his horse had other ideas and kept heading north.

Damn. She looked familiar, so familiar his heart sped up and his mouth went dry as sand. Just the memory of their loving stiffened his prick. But it couldn’t be Celine. His wife had burned to death in a boardinghouse fire almost three years ago.

When the news of her death had finally reached him, he’d still been too angry to grieve. She never would’ve died if she’d stayed home where she belonged instead of running off with his life savings. Served the bitch right—that was what he’d thought at the time.

But now… If this woman really was Celine and not someone who was her spitting image, what he wouldn’t give to bed his wife one last time before he locked up her low-down, thieving ass.

Web site: https://marienicoleryan.com/

You can find my books at all the usual online retailers.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Marie-Nicole-Ryan/e/B002BOHSCG/

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/Marie-Nicole-Ryan?store=book&keyword=Marie-Nicole+Ryan/

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/search?Query=Marie-Nicole+Ryan/

iBooks/Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/marie-nicole-ryan/id411245235?mt=11/

People say that writing is a solitary occupation and to a great extent it is. I mean, no one can do the writing for you, nor would you want them to. But it also takes a lot of research, especially for me. I am known as Miss Picky because I go to great lengths to get things right.

When I was writing Finding Julia, there were some specific scenes in the story that I needed details on. For example, there’s a cabin in the woods in Massachusetts. I had to know if there was still open land outside Boston, where it was, how much open space, all that good stuff. I managed to find a real estate agent who was willing to take time out of her busy day to answer my questions, although I think she was secretly hoping I was actually looking for property to buy.

There is also a scene at a restaurant called Harry’s House. Now this is of course a fictional place but it’s based on a real restaurant, Little Harry’s, a French colonial structure in Detroit with a lot of ambience. I lived in that city for twenty-five years and Little Harry’s was a place where Detroit’s gentrified elite as well as their Mafia elite frequently dined. Media were strictly prohibited so it was a place where people could be assured of privacy, especially with the restaurant divided into small rooms.

Unfortunately it no longer exists. Singer Anita Baker bought it and planned to turn it into a recording studio. She ran into so much resistance she built an IHop instead. Kind of like when my late husband and I went to Texarkana to see some of the historic landmarks of his ancestors and at one spot found a Taco Bell.

Oh, well.

FINDING JULIA

Can a moment of passion outlast years of secrets and misery?

Sometimes life is not fair. For Julia Patterson meeting Luke Buchanan opened the door to a new life and brought her to life as a woman. In his arms she learns for the first time how real passion and emotion can enrich your life. He claims her body with the pleasure of erotic sex and his heart with unrestricted love. But Fate was laughing at Julia, just as she is about to step over the threshold into a wonderful new life. When her almost-ex-husband Charles is diagnosed with a fatal heart condition her divorce is put on hold along with the rest of her life. Turning her back on Luke and the intense passion and emotion they shared is the most difficult thing she’s ever done. But Julia has a secret, one that Charles has discovered and uses like a club. Thirteen years later when Luke walks back into her life the passion and emotion are just as explosive as ever. Will they finally have their chance at happiness or will her secret destroy it forever?

https://www.amazon.com/Finding-Julia-Desiree-Holt-ebook/dp/B00LAE8S0E/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1406635677&sr=1-1&keywords=Finding+Julia

https://www.kensingtonbooks.com/book.aspx/30586

Excerpt #1:

“Our executive vice president is tied up in a meeting right now,” Howard whispered as the executive staff filed in. “He’s the one who says yea or nay. He’ll join us as soon as he can.”

Great. Would he expect her to do it all over again for him?

She sighed and began her presentation again.

It was well into the afternoon and she was pulling out copies of the proposed budget to distribute when the door to the boardroom opened quietly, and Julia’s stomach dropped to the floor. She felt as if an electric surge slammed into her, plucking at every one of her nerve endings.

The man who silently took a seat at the end of the table wasn’t necessarily handsome, but he was one hundred percent male. Liquid brown eyes were framed by the thickest lashes she had ever seen on a man. She noticed the strong jaw and the lines of character etched on an incredibly masculine face. Straight brown hair, a hint of silver reflecting in the lights, was worn just a little long, giving him a slightly rakehell look.

The classic dark business suit barely concealed the power he radiated. More than that, he exuded an aura of self, of authority, of comfort in his own skin few men were able to attain. She could think of only three words to describe him. Dark. Edgy. Dangerous. In her entire thirty years, no man had ever affected her the way this man did. Certainly not Charles. She clamped down on her reaction, forbidding herself to let her thoughts wander into forbidden territory. As she’d learned, her judgment where men were concerned left a great deal to be desired.

“Let me interrupt a moment.” Manning jumped to his feet. “Julia, meet Lucas Buchanan, our executive vice president. He’s been in another meeting until now.”

“I’m pleased you could join us, Mr. Buchanan.” Julia pasted on her professional smile and hoped her voice sounded firmer to the others than it did to her.

Lucas Buchanan nodded at her. “Luke, please. Sorry to be late. Please don’t let me interrupt.”

She struggled to pick up the threads of what she’d been saying, her brain suddenly addled, and her hands unsteady. It took every ounce of personal discipline to keep focused on her presentation.

Excerpt #2

“Let’s hope,” he muttered. “All right. Be sure to let me know how things are. I’ll be worried about you. Here. Give me your cell phone.”

She pulled it out of her purse and handed it to him. He punched some numbers and gave it back to her.

“There. My private number’s in there. I’m speed dial number one. I’ll have my phone on all the time. Call me whenever.”

“Oh, Luke.” Her voice broke and she dug deep to get control of herself. “Why couldn’t we have met fifteen years ago?”

“I don’t think we would have been ready for each other then.” He kissed her one last time, then enfolded her in his arms. “Just remember. No matter what happens in your life, you will always be mine.”

“Yes, I will.” She was fighting tears and clinging to him as if she’d never let him go before taking a step back. “Goodbye, Luke.” And then she couldn’t help herself. “I love you.” She yanked up the handle of her suitcase and nearly ran into the terminal, dragging the luggage behind her.

Julia went through check-in and security as if in a fog. She bought herself another cup of tea and sat in the waiting area, sipping at the hot liquid, hoping it would ease the sudden chill invading her. The man sitting next to her was kind enough to nudge her when the call for boarding came. She entered the plane and took her seat like a robot, buckled in and leaned her head back.

Images flashed through her mind: she and Luke dancing, bodies moving slowly to the music, their first night together, the wonder of exploring each other’s bodies, the night in the cabin, warmed by the flames of the fire, their kiss at the airport, more poignant than sensual.

What a mess. The damn divorce papers still unsigned and now she had no idea when or how they would be. Luke had said he would wait but for how long? And how would the twins handle this? Their relationship with their father left a lot to be desired yet surely this would affect them emotionally. Her life was slowly being flushed down the toilet and she was left with a very inadequate plunger. Tears begin to trickle from the corners of her eyes, and her stomach knotted.

“Excuse me.” The flight attendant was leaning towards her, over the empty seat next to her. “Forgive me for asking but is something wrong?”

“No.” Julia sniffled, then tried on a smile. “Just fighting a cold is all.”

“Can I get you anything?” The attendant was obviously concerned.

“Some hot tea would be nice, if you could. And thank you.” Maybe she could drown herself in an ocean of the stuff.

“Tea it is. Coming right up.”

She realized as she sipped the hot liquid, she would now always associate it with Luke. She hoped she would still be able to drink it without crying. The tea seemed to settle her still-jumbled stomach enough so she could relax a little, but it did nothing to rid her of the feeling of despair creeping over her.

About Desiree Holt

Known the world over as the oldest living author of erotic romance, and referred to by USA Today as the Nora Roberts of erotic romance, Desiree Holt is three times a finalist for an EPIC E-Book Award (and a winner in 2014), a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award winner for best BDSM book of the year, and winner of the Holt Medallion for Excellence in Romance Literature. She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today, The (London) Daily Mail, The New Delhi Times and numerous other national and international publications.

“Desiree Holt is the most amazing erotica author of our time and each story is more fulfilling then the last.” (Romance Junkies)

“Desiree Holt is like the Nora Roberts of erotic romance.” USA Today Happy Ever After Blog

Learn more about her and read her novels here:

www.desireeholt.com
www.desiremeonly.com
www.facebook.com/desireeholtauthor
Twitter @desireeholt
Pinterest: desiree02holt
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Pssst! Brent’s my cousin! 🙂 ~DD

I just finished edits on the first book of a three-book series. I’m on top of the world about it. Strange thing is, the story was supposed to be a short story about a blind date. No more than four or five pages in an anthology. But that’s not what the characters wanted.

As I started writing the story, ideas popped into my head about each character’s past. Who was the main character, Heath Firestone? What happened in his life to keep him single and uninterested in dating at thirty-five years old? Who really is this mysterious man, Anton Barrett, and why did Heath’s co-worker Violet set him up with three disasters before introducing Anton?

As the writing continued, I felt like Heath was in my head directing the story, and it quickly passed the usual word count for a short story. Thus, the first book of the Golden Scepter series was born. Heath ended up the target of a fifty year conspiracy to wipe out his family. Gun fights, treasure hunt, the Orient Express, and a hidden chamber in the catacombs of Salzburg flew from my fingers at Heath’s direction onto the virtual page.

Then a new villain, Justin Pennington, pushed the story further into book two, another full novel. I’ve just finished that one and am going back to fill in anything Justin and Heath missed. But both are still there, making sure I don’t change the essence of their tale.

And I can already hear the characters clamoring to be heard for book three. It’s amazing to me how these stories keep coming, all from a quick idea about a blind date. Some of my editors have commented about putting Heath through all his trials and tribulations in the first book, but the reality for me is Heath told me his story and wanted me to write it. I can hardly wait to see what the real outcome of the full story is. While the idea is already complete in my mind, Heath has been throwing me surprises and loops as I put the words onto my screen.

Bring it on, Heath. Tell me another story.

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Brent Archer started writing in 2011 at the urging of his cousins. He’s published in several anthologies, and will celebrate his first cover with his own name on it on October 3^rd with the release of his story Halfway Out of the Dark with MuseItHot. You’ll be able to read about Heath’s story starting in Spring 2015 with the release of The Bastard’s Key as the first book of the Golden Scepter series. Visit Brent at his website www.brentarcher.net or follow him on Twitter @brentarcherwrit.