Oct 20

Random Contest!

I’ve decided that today, I shall have a contest. Just for fun.

Earlier today, I posted about a communication issue my husband and I had last week. In my opinion, communication is vital for any kind of relationship to work, whether it’s a romantic relationship, a friendship, or a family relationship. This is relevant to the contest…

First, some disclaimer-type stuff:

Contest will run from now until noon on Friday, October 24. One winner will be drawn at random from all comments; winner’s name will be posted in the comments, and I will notify the winner by email. (You don’t need to post your email. It shows up on my dashboard but is not visible to anyone else.)

The prize offered is a PDF copy of any of my in-print backlist books. In other words, any of the books listed on my Bookshelf page. Please be aware that PDF is a digital file format, readable with Adobe Reader or on a Kindle. By entering the contest, you indicate your understanding that you will receive a PDF file, not any other format. There will be no substitution.

And now the actual contest:

Respond to this post telling me whether you’ve had a communication issue with someone in your life and whether you were able to sort it out. You don’t have to give details; “yes” or “no” answers are fine.

Oct 20

Communication Consideration

In my opinion, the key to any relationship is open, honest communication. When you’re in a relationship, you have to be able to sort out problems, make agreements, set boundaries, etc, and the only way to do that is to talk to each other.

In our tech-heavy society, it’s easy to communicate with other people. We can text, email, instant message, place a good old-fashioned phone call, etc.

But some things just should be said in person. It’s a matter of respect and consideration.

Last week, my husband and I had an issue because he told me something important, that impacted us as a couple, via text message. And it wasn’t a text along the lines of “I need to tell you something…”; it was casually thrown into the middle of a conversation about him needing to use my car.

I didn’t have an issue with *what* he told me. I had an issue with *how*. I felt disrespected because he didn’t seem to think I deserved to have him come to me and talk face to face about the situation, and I was hurt and angry because of how he went about it.

He did apologize and admitted he’d been inconsiderate–and he did that face to face.


Oct 16

Teaser Thursday- Last Chance Tattoo (again)



The shop door opened, and to Dorsey’s surprise, Rad walked in. Dorsey hadn’t been sure whether he would see the guy again after the way Rad had taken off the day before.

He waved, but Rad was looking at the counter. He walked over to Kelly, who motioned for Rad to sit at one of the nearer tables. Rad sat with his back to Dorsey, and after a moment, Kelly joined him.

Hopefully that meant Kelly had decided to give Rad a job. From listening to Rad talk about working at the shop, Dorsey had recognized how important it was to the guy. He had to wonder what Rad’s family would think of one of their own working at such a grunt job, but Dorsey definitely understood the need.

He finished his coffee while trying not to stare at Rad’s back.

Going back to his apartment with someone wouldn’t be so bad. He couldn’t sit at the coffee shop for the next five hours, after all. Even Kelly would lose her patience with that. But if he invited Rad to come over and watch a movie or something…

Who the hell am I kidding? Companionship would be okay, but it wasn’t the only reason he wanted to be alone with Rad. Before the nightmares had hit, Dorsey had indulged in more fantasizing about the guy. For the first time in three years, Dorsey’s libido was wide-awake, and Rad was the one he was interested in.

Not that he had many other options. Rad was the only other openly gay guy Dorsey knew in Ludington. But he suspected even if there had been a whole herd of gay men, he would have chosen Rad.

And sex was a better way than alcohol, or even caffeine, to get the crap out of his head.

First, though, he had to get Rad’s attention. Preferably without seeming creepy about it.

Oct 13

Love Strikes

I’ve heard plenty of people say that you never know what you’ll find when you stop looking. From my perspective, that’s definitely true.

Lightning 1

In 2008, I’d been divorced for nearly a year and a half, and I’d been dating for most of that time. I wasn’t finding what I was looking for, mainly because I didn’t *know* what I was looking for. So I chose to stop dating, and sat down to define exactly what I sought in a relationship and in a partner.

A few days later, I met the man I refer to as my “real-life romance hero husband.” I wasn’t looking for someone to date. Neither was he. But when we met, it was obvious that we couldn’t just walk away from each other. We have been together literally since the moment we met; it’s now been nearly six and a half years.

Sometimes we try too hard to find what we think we want, and we end up closing ourselves to possibilities. Or we push to make someone the person we’re looking for when they really aren’t.

When you’re looking for someone to love, sometimes the best thing to do is be open and just trust that love will strike when it–and you–are ready.

Oct 10

Spotlight on Dana Wright

Here’s today’s second spotlight author, Dana Wright, whose book Asylum is now available.

Asylum Media Kit:

ISBN: 978-1-77101-393-2

By Dana Wright

Heat Rating: 1

Word Count: 16435

Release Date: October 10, 2014



The voices of the past are alive behind the iron gates of Bremore Asylum. Can Rachel and Matt deduce its secrets before it’s too late?

When Rachel agrees to take the job investigating the disappearance of a fellow ghost hunter at Bremore Asylum, she is totally unprepared for the sexy and stubborn psychic debunker Matt Rutledge to be a part of the package. Can these two opposing forces find the answers behind the asylum’s crumbling walls before they become the newest victims to the asylum’s grim history?


Rachel narrowed her eyes. What little hold she held on her frayed temper snapped. Self-doubt flared, but she stamped it out as quickly as it came.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She stepped forward, hands clenched into fists, her foot brushing against the luggage. Her hoodie slid off the suitcase and flopped unceremoniously into the dirt.

“We haven’t even started on the project and you’re trying to displace me already?”

Rutledge stepped back, surprise clear on his lightly parted lips. Lips she apparently still wanted to kiss, damn his eyes. God, what was wrong with her?

“My friend almost died because of a mistake I made. But you’re already aware of that, aren’t you, Mr. High and Mighty? Listen to me and listen good. I’m here because my grandmother needs me. I’m a damn fine ghost hunter, which you would already know if you bothered to see beyond what happened to Jeannie.” She poked her finger into his chest and had the satisfaction of seeing him wince.

Matt stepped back and held up his hands, a ruddy flush creeping up his cheeks. “Okay. I was out of line. Truce?” He bent down and carefully picked up her hoodie, handing it to her gingerly.

“Thank you, Mr. Rutledge.” Rachel snatched the hoodie from his hands and tied it around her waist with a firm yank. She didn’t want to chance it falling in the dirt again and it was going to be a long weekend. At the rate they were going, it was going to be a full-on ice storm between them.

A flash of humor crossed his face. “Do you think maybe you could call me Matt?”

“That depends.”

“On what?” Matt cocked his eyebrow with surprise.

“On whether you can stop dissecting me like one of your frauds.”

Buy Link:


Dana Wright Author Pic

About the author:

Dana Wright has always had a fascination with things that go bump in the night. She is often found playing at local bookstores, trying not to maim herself with crochet hooks or knitting needles, watching monster movies with her husband and furry kids or blogging about books. More commonly, she is chained to her computers, writing like a woman possessed. She is currently working on several children’s stories, young adult fiction, romantic suspense, short stories and is trying her hand at poetry. She is a contributing author to Ghost Sniffer’s CYOA, Siren’s Call E-zine in their “Women in Horror” issue in February 2013 and “Revenge” in October 2013, a contributing author to Potatoes!, Fossil Lake, Of Dragons and Magic: Tales of the Lost Worlds, Undead in Pictures, Potnia, Shadows and Light, Dark Corners, Wonderstruck, Shifters: A Charity Anthology, Dead Harvest, Monster Diaries (upcoming), Holiday Horrors and the Roms, Bombs and Zoms Anthology from Evil Girlfriend Media. She is the author of Asylum due out in October 2014.   Dana has also reviewed music for Muzikreviews.com specializing in New Age and alternative music and has been a contributing writer to Eternal Haunted Summer, Nightmare Illustrated, Massacre Magazine, Metaphor Magazine, The Were Traveler October 2013 edition: The Little Magazine of Magnificent Monsters, the December 2013 issue The Day the Zombies Ruled the Earth. She currently reviews music at New Age Music Reviews and Write a Music Review.


Follow Dana’s reviews:

Twitter: @danawrite

Author site: http://danawrightauthor.wix.com/danawright

Facebook fan page: https://www.facebook.com/danawrightauthor

Oct 10

Spotlight on LM Brown

Welcome to another Breathless Press Day! Today’s first spotlight author is LM Brown, with her new release Touch of a Ghost.


What if you could only touch your lover one night of the year? Halloween night is all you have when in a relationship with a ghost.

Drew Jessop wants a life without ghosts. He doesn’t want to see, hear, or talk to them. Ignoring them should be relatively simple. But Drew soon finds that Benji Richards, an eternally gorgeous ghost from the fifties, is not so easy to ignore.

Halloween night is approaching and both Drew and Benji know what it could mean for them. From sunset to sunrise, it is the one night of the year when a mortal can feel the touch of a ghost.


Drew leaned forward and put his empty bottle on the table. The match had finished and the commentators were recapping the highlights, so Drew reached for the remote control.

“Well, thank you for having us.” Flora stood up and stretched, as though her joints were still giving her grief as they had apparently done in life.

Drew turned off the television and picked up the crisp packet together with the nearly empty bowl. He tossed the last few crisps into his mouth as he stood up and walked into the kitchen. He left the beer bottles on the table as he contemplated whether to have another. Remembering he had an early start in the morning, he decided against drinking too much. He had a feeling Flora might have an opinion on alcohol intake too. However, when he turned back toward the living area, Flora had vanished.

Benji, on the other hand, still lingered. He remained on the sofa, his arm stretched along the back and his chin resting on it as he stared at Drew directly.

“You’re very rude, you know?” Benji commented idly. “Not saying a single word to us all evening like that. You could at least have said hello.”

Drew ignored him as he turned off the lights.

“I know you can see us. Your eyes give you away.”

Drew suspected Benji might be guessing, but if he said a single word in response that guess would be confirmed. He had to keep quiet. That way he could still maintain a normal life.

“Not going to admit it, huh?” Benji said. “Well, I’ll stop by again tomorrow. Maybe you’ll be more talkative then. If you are, I might just tell you how I know you’re gay, if you ask nicely.” With that comment, Benji flashed Drew one final killer smile and vanished from the room.

Drew reacted to Benji the same way he would any other handsome man. His mind may tell him Benji was off limits, but his body thought otherwise. Drew wondered whether he could keep up the pretense of not seeing and hearing the ghosts who were as real to him as the rest of the human race. If this evening was anything to go by, it might not be as easy as he thought.


Oct 02

Teaser Thursday- The Pink, It Burns



The second Dyer walked into the coffee shop, a balloon smacked him in the face.

He swatted the bobbing pink thing away from him and glared, trying to pinpoint where it had come from. Balloons didn’t attack on their own. Someone had to have propelled it.

Plenty of people were in the shop. Eight a.m., rush hour, everyone trying to get their caffeine on before they hit their cubicles for an exciting day of playing Solitaire and surfing social media on company time. Dyer’s favorite barista, Myles, stood at the counter with his usual smile, efficiently filling every order.

Even though Myles didn’t glance his way, seeing him improved Dyer’s morning. In spite of the pink balloon.

Some of the folks had kids with them, probably on the way to drop them off at school or daycare. Judging from the way one little girl giggled at him, Dyer guessed she was the balloon culprit. She wore a faded pink coat with a rip in one sleeve, and her thin blonde hair was trying to escape two messy braids. A little pink backpack sprinkled with images of the head of a popular cartoon kitty was strapped on her shoulders.

Even though she was smiling, her eyes were sad.

She was too cute for Dyer to be annoyed, even if he did hate pink balloons. He grabbed the balloon and held it out to her. “I think this is yours.”

“Sorry.” Her tiny voice barely made it through all the noise in the shop. Her smile faded as she took the balloon from him and hugged it.

“It’s okay.” Dyer’s heart ached. He wanted to say more to the child, but he was a stranger to her. If he kept talking, he would probably freak out some overprotective parent. But those little blue eyes held him.

Something was wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but his instincts screamed at him not to walk away from the child.

“Ella, what are you doing?” A tall man in a long tan coat turned to glare down at the child. “I told you to behave. Can’t you listen to me for one single second?”

The little girl shrank behind the guy’s legs and stared at the floor. “Sorry, Daddy” she said even more softly.

“You should be. You’re too old to act that way.” The guy turned his glare to Dyer. “Excuse her. She’s still learning how to behave in public.”

“She’s fine,” Dyer said. With his narrowed eyes and messy hair, the man looked way too frazzled to deal with a preschooler that early in the morning, and the way he’d spoken to Ella pinged some little worry radar in Dyer’s brain. “It was only a balloon.”

“I told you to stop playing with that thing.” The man snatched the balloon out of Ella’s hands and tossed it toward the trash cans at the counter. Of course the balloon didn’t go where he wanted it. It simply bobbed in the general direction.

Ella whimpered and stuck her thumb in her mouth. She leaned against her dad, and he pushed her away and muttered something under his breath.

Dyer forced himself to stop staring at the two, but his stomach tightened. Something wasn’t right there. Not at all. The kid didn’t appear upset about losing her balloon. She was afraid of her father.

Sep 29

Happy Thoughts

I recently posted this on another blog I have under a different name, but I wanted to share it here as well.


Sometimes things just don’t go smoothly. But I don’t want to talk about that. Or think about it.

I want to think about guitar solos and nutcrackers.

Scenic walks and dark bars and cupcakes.

Making plans and sharing jokes and not making any sense to anyone but each other.

Falling asleep.
I want to think about long phone calls.

Understanding and listening.

Sharing fears and dreams.
I want to think about boat rides and stair repairs.

Long hours under blankets.

Encouragement and comforting and restoring broken pieces.

Waking up.
I want to think about how fortunate I am. How much wonder and amazement is in my life.

And even when something doesn’t fit and doesn’t work, that doesn’t change where things have been and where I am, and how thankful I am for those who are here with me.

Sep 26

Spotlight on Allie A Burrow

Our second Breathless Press spotlight today is on author Allie A Burrow and her new book For One Night Only.

For One Night Only 200x300


Kate Powell only went and fell for the soldier she’d met just once before he had to jet off on a year-long posting overseas.
Seven months in, and Kate is hornier than a blue wildebeest in mating season with only her battery-powered friend for relief. Her skills as a pen-pal scale new heights, but then a text message arrives out of the blue.
Corporal Mark Butler is back in the country for one night only, and Kate isn’t about to let the opportunity pass her by. After all, who needs a vibrator when the real thing comes calling?

*Allie has chosen to donate all royalties from ‘For One Night only’ and ‘Serviced: Volume 1′ to the UK charity Help For Heroes*


Safely enveloped in the darkness of the alcove, the bass pounded through the soles of Kate’s boots and echoed inside her ribs. She lunged and caught Mark’s face in her hands, pulling him down to kiss him, her tongue forcing a route past his surprised lips and delving into the wetness of his mouth. “Take me,” she breathed. Her hand stole over the carved ridges of his stomach, following the arrow-shaped path down to where it disappeared inside his jeans. “Please…”

His mouth opened and closed and he glanced over his shoulder at the heaving dance floor. “But—”

“No buts.” She reached for his fly, undoing it quickly, but instead of finding another layer of clothing, his dick sprang free and elicited a gasp from her throat. “I need this”—she fisted her hand around it, stroking him, and his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw jutting out as his head tipped back—”I need you…inside me”—she swirled her hand over the engorged head and his entire body jerked—”now.”

Mark’s eyes flew open and even in the dim lighting, she saw his pupils dilate, the naked desire on his face almost frightening. His fingers skipped over the back of her neck and lost themselves in her hair, getting tangled in the shoulder-length tresses she had loosely pinned up. The gentle touch was at odds with the fierce hunger in his gaze. Electric shocks surged through the many nerve endings, connected directly to her core, and she had to lean into his hand, let him support the weight of her head, suddenly too heavy to keep upright under her own steam.

He tilted it back and locked his gaze onto hers, issuing her with a challenge. “If we’re going to do this”—he leaned into her, his lips rasping her ear—”right here, right now”—his gravelly voice resonated within her, hungry, powerful—”we’re doing it my way.”

Staggered by the transformation from man to soldier, her need for him ramped up another notch and it was all she could do to move her head the tiniest fraction. His eyes searched hers for an answer, the wait agonizing, until finally, he dipped his head. Achingly tender, his lips flitted over the top of hers, like rose petals blowing in the wind. Her eyelids fluttered closed, cracking under the strain of keeping them open.

Sweet, yet maddening, Kate yearned to take control and deepen the kiss, but he broke off every time she tried before catching her lower lip between his teeth as if to punish her. Their sharp edges sank into her swollen flesh without breaking the surface, his tongue immediately soothing any pain. The all-conquering, take-no-prisoners warrior had arrived.



Allie A. Burrow writes sensual contemporary love stories that are both sweet and romantic but with a liberal dash of heat added. When not burning up the pages, you’ll mostly find her marauding as Aurelia B. Rowl where she pretends to be far more sweet and innocent and writes young adult, new adult, and contemporary romance stories.


She lives on the edge of the Peak District in the UK with her very understanding husband, their two fantastic children, and their mad rescue mutt who doesn’t mind being used as a sounding post and source of inspiration. Too often lost in her own world, she regularly wows her family with curious, hastily thrown together meals as a result of getting too caught up with her latest writing project… or five!… and she has developed the fine art of ignoring the housework.

To find out even more about Allie you can visit her website www.allieaburrow.com. You can also check out her main writing persona, Aurelia, by visiting www.aureliabrowl.com

You can also find her hanging out on:








YouTube (as Aurelia)

Sep 26

Spotlight on Ishabelle Torry

It’s Breathless Press Day again, and first up is author Ishabelle Torry, whose new book The Gift is now available.

The Gift 200x300

Daniel was bound to love Sheryl’s out-of-the-box anniversary idea…wasn’t he?

It’s Sheryl and Daniel’s tenth anniversary, and Sheryl is compelled to get her beloved soul mate the gift of all gifts. Discarding her normally self-reserved persona, she has a nude portrait commissioned. He was bound to love it…wasn’t he?



My chest tightened, and I had to take slow, calming breaths to steady my quivering limbs as I maintained eye contact. I had waited years for this moment; defeating modesty with a blatant desire to shed the snow from its covered mountain peak. I prayed I wouldn’t pass out before the overdue climax reached fruition.

His tongue darted out and he licked the corners of his mouth hungrily, squinting in concentration. “One more touch,” he promised with a whisper. He then threw his head back and bellowed. “Finished!”

I pulled the sheets over my nudity, suddenly embarrassed. My clammy palms smeared the soft fabric with wet streaks as I wrung the material between shaky fingers. I waited for him to speak—to say anything. With pursed lips, he occasionally produced a clicking sound as his tongue bounced off of his front teeth.

I willed his words to come. But silence was the one thing I found to be the most charming of his many qualities. Without words, he couldn’t criticize me…or my newest fetish. My endeavor was safe with this almost mime.

He grunted loudly and twisted his body back and forth. A long stretch pulled him to his tiptoes as his head fell back to blow kisses at the popcorn ceiling. He lowered his gaze slowly and devoured my form from crown to toe, like a lion inspecting his prey. The deep blue of his eyes hid his thoughts, just as the ocean concealed buried treasure.



Ishabelle Torry is a full time mother, wife and student. She enjoys time with her family, and their plethora of pets on the farm. In her spare time, she is constantly dreaming of characters and the worlds they are found in. Occasionally, Ishabelle has been known to argue with her characters and bribe them with cookies when they have a wayward moment.

You can find Ishabelle on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/IshabelleTorry

Or Follow on Twitter @ishabelletorry

Older posts «