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REVIEWS
Erotic Romance “Seducing Cat is a Must Read…Hot in all the right places!”
Love Bites and Silk Ties
Romantic Suspense: Mystery and Romance are woven well in The Painter is a Lady.
Romantic Suspense: “The Unmasking is a fascinating tale…some emotionally trying scenes.”
Erotic Romance FFM Menage: “Edgy characters, inclusive sexuality…The Reunion is not for the faint of heart.”
Erotic Romance FFM Menage: “The intimacy is genuine and breathtaking”
Today we’re thrilled to welcome fellow eXtasy author Renee Matthews, here to share about her upcoming Christmas release, A Timeless Christmas. Part of eXtasy’s Twelve Days of Christmas, it’s due out December 20, and you can pre-order HERE
Some Christmas miracles are not retold, but relived.
Prince Menion had never wanted for anything in his life minus Jacob Riker. Jacob and his twin brother, Lucas, came to the Kingdom of Miraennon every fall and always left before spring arrived. They would bring with them tales of magical worlds and add wonder to his boring life. Then last year, Jacob Riker arrived alone, and they grew closer than Menion should have allowed. Menion was expected to be married and be the next Lord of Miraennon by Christmas. None of those plans involved Jacob Riker.
Being a time traveler, Jacob Riker had never expected to be so stuck in one moment. After their months together, that had been Jacob’s own personal Christmas miracle. Then Menion Astaulind was standing in the snow breaking his heart and proclaimed love for another.
Now, Jacob stands ready to jump through the portal one last time to win over the only man he ever loved before Christmas comes again.
BIO
Renee is often in her own little world. There is nothing that she loves more than writing down all the stories that make up her world. She can often be found curled up in front of her laptop with a cup of coffee.
Dee is giving away an ebook of Only a Good Man Will Do and a $10 Amazon card during the tour. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Remember you may enter every day for your chance to win. You may find the tour locations here http://bit.ly/OWO122019
About One Woman Only:
As one of a set of triplets, Jonah always feels the need to make his individuality known. So where his brother Daniel is serious and completely focused, Jonah shuns commitment. Where his genius brother Mark is hailed in the scientific world, Jonah hides beneath a car, tinkering. Thing is, being different isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It takes a woman—the right woman—to make him see that a “good man” can always be a better man.
Kelly turned at the sound
of Jonah’s voice behind her. Dinner had ended. All three of the boys had given
best man speeches and Eve had even given a very creditable matron of honor
speech, considering she had only known Marilyn and Caleb a short time. Lots of
toasts had been raised and finally the live band had struck up the music. Caleb
led his bride onto the floor for a foxtrot—a dance more than half of the guests
had no idea how to do, including her.
Facing Jonah she sighed
inwardly at how scrumptious he looked. Sure, his face was pretty much displayed
on his brothers’ heads, too, but there was something different about Jonah. His
nose was just a little crooked from when Bobby Hendricks had broken it in ninth
grade and his eyes held an especially bright sparkle when he smiled. Maybe…
Well, she didn’t know what caused the difference between Jonah and his
brothers. Whatever it was, she had never been fooled by the so-called identical
nature of the identical triplets. She’d wanted to be his girl since elementary
school. Thought she would be in high school. And then she’d forced every last
thought of him from her mind from senior year on.
Until now.
“I don’t know how to
foxtrot.”
He shrugged. “Who does
except those over fifty?” He glanced at his folks, still alone on the
dancefloor, although a few couples were wandering out to join them now.
“We can pretend.”
She mentally compared
standing on the sidelines alone now that Mama Rio left the party, or being held
in Jonah’s arms. Smiling, Kelly held out her hands. “Just don’t step on my
toes, Jonah Goodman, or there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Together they walked onto the dancefloor. He took her right hand in his left
and placed his right hand on her waist. Fortunately for them, the music changed
to a slow tempo. Kelly laid her head on Jonah’s shoulder, and he tugged her
closer as they swayed to the music.
“This is nice,”
he murmured.
“Yes it is,” she
replied. So very nice. He smelled good. Beneath the light citrus fragrance of
his aftershave was a slight whiff of pure man with maybe a twinge of motor oil
or something so Jonah it brought tears to her eyes.
He rubbed a path up to her
shoulder blades and gave a squeeze. “You fit me perfectly, Kelly.”
“I do?”
“You sure do. I think
our hearts can feel each other beat.”
Kelly chuckled.
“Smooth talker. Face to face like this our hearts are on opposite
sides.”
“Hey! I’m trying to be
romantic here.”
She sighed. “Keep on.
It’s appreciated.”
“You smell…good.”
She felt his smile. Raising
her head she gave him a mock glare. “Watch it with those pregnant pauses,
buster.”
He used his hand to press
her head back to his shoulder. “You do smell good, though. This isn’t the
same perfume you wore in high school. That was—”
“Lilac,” they
said at the same time. Once more she raised her head to look at him. “How
did you remember that?”
“I remember much more
than you might think.” He turned her and moved her closer to the door onto
the patio. “Each spring when lilacs are in bloom memories come flooding
back. Does that surprise you?”
“More like shocks
me,” she said, grinning. And then she laid her head on his shoulder once
more, finding she liked it more and more there in his arms. She stepped
slightly closer and his arm tightened about her.
“Well, after a while I
thought lilac seemed too girlish. I like the vintage scents, so in college I
wore Wind Song. Then Shalimar was the scent Brad liked me to wear.” She felt
Jonah stiffen when she mentioned her ex, and really she didn’t blame him.
“But when I grew up enough finally to take charge of my own life, I
started wearing Chanel No 5. A complex fragrance for what I hope is a complex
woman.”
“It suits you. Complex
and beautiful.” He kissed her temple. “Want to step outside for a
minute?”
“Sure. It is a little
warm in here.”
On the patio, they could
hear the sounds of the people from the television networks packing up
equipment, chatting and laughing. Stars shone brightly in the clear night sky.
Wood smoke from someone’s fireplace wafted through the air and static
electricity fairly crackled in the crispness of the autumn air.
“This is my favorite
time of year,” Kelly said. “The heat of summer is gone and winter nights
curled up with a hot drink and blazing fire are ahead.”
“Not me. I’m a summer
boy all the way.”
“A hothead you
mean?” she teased.
“Oh, I’m hot all
right.” He waggled his brows at her. Kelly laughed.
“I do seem to remember
that about you.”
“You used to be pretty
hot yourself. Still are.” He leaned in. His eyes flicked down to her lips.
Kelly sucked in a breath. She should stop him, she really should.
About the Author:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex. Writing was so much fun Dee decided to keep at it.
That’s how she spends her days. Her nights? Well, she’s lucky that her dream man, childhood sweetheart, and long-time hubby are all the same guy, and nights are their secret. For romance ranging from sweet to historical, contemporary to paranormal and more join Dee on Nomad Authors. Contact Dee at dsknight@deesknight.com.
Today we’re thrilled to welcome fellow eXtasy author Maggie Blackbird with a fabulous kinky release just in time for the holidays. You won’t want to miss this one!
He’s got the perfect Christmas present for the community’s chief—vengeance wrapped in a shiny box with a red bow on top.
Joseph
Slade Indian
isn’t angry. He’s pissed. Pissed that the man who threw over his love for glory
and money is back, and now leads their Ojibway community as the new chief.
Holding the pain deep in his chest, Slade knows how he’ll celebrate the most
miserable day of the year—opening a gift of recompense after being dumped by
the one man he dared to love.
Gavin
Pemmican is full of regret. He knows he made a big mistake leaving Slade for a
materialistic dream of power and prestige. No longer the poor bullied misfit
but an educated lawyer, he’s ready to put his skills to the biggest case of his
life by brazenly challenging Slade in the kangaroo court of sexual torture he’s
daring to stick Gavin in—and win back the only man he’s ever loved.
Gavin swiveled on his black shoe, glancing over his shoulder. No,
not a glance. His heavy-lidded eyes burned into Slade. Searing him until his
mouth dried.
The napkin fell to the floor.
Reality slapped Slade’s face cold, and fire crackled in his veins.
Who did this asshole think he was, blatantly tossing garbage around while he
stood watching?
Gavin kept gazing at him while he shifted one leg over the other.
The sound of his heels clicking against the floor echoed off the walls.
Slade gritted his teeth. Was Gavin daring him to get mad, going to
throw around his newfound power if Slade told the high and mighty chief to bend
the hell over and pick that damned napkin off the floor?
Gavin’s dark eyed gaze continued to cut into Slade, as if sharing a
secret. There wasn’t a hint of smug satisfaction. Only a potent, seductive
invitation.
A man had needs. Slade swallowed. And he wasn’t about to get laid on
the rez, no matter if the population clocked in at eight hundred members.
With one final lingering peek, Gavin disappeared inside his office.
Slade’s breathing hitched. The lightness in his chest twisted until
his lungs clenched. He ought to leave the napkin on the floor and find out what
Gavin had to say about that. Slade set the mop handle aside. If he ignored the
trash, the band manager would call him out.
He trounced to the washroom door and leaned down, swiping up the napkin, but the plush material melting into his palm didn’t resemble a napkin. Then what the…? He turned the garment over. His throat clamped shut. Underwear. He was holding Gavin’s underwear.
Author Bio
An Ojibway from Northwestern Ontario, Maggie resides in the country with her husband and their fur babies, two beautiful Alaskan Malamutes.
When she’s not writing, she can be found pulling weeds in the flower beds, mowing the huge lawn, walking the Mals deep in the bush, teeing up a ball at the golf course, fishing in the boat for walleye, or sitting on the deck at her sister’s house, making more wonderful memories with the people she loves most.
