Articles

Spending Time

If you’ve followed this blog and read my bio, you know I’m married. My husband is a good man. He supports the family while I stay home and write. He’s my rock when my anxiety or depression take over, and he’s great with my kids.

But for him, being married just kind of means… being married. We don’t really spend any time together. We have no shared activities or hobbies. Other than reading and sex, we don’t have much of anything in common, and we don’t even read the same types of books. This doesn’t bother him at all. He’s perfectly content just knowing I exist in his life.

For me, that’s a problem. I love him, and I like the times that we interact, but sometimes I wish we actually did things together. Date nights. Or dancing (which we did briefly when we were first together, but I was seriously ill at the time and couldn’t keep up with the lessons). Or anything that would involve the two of us actually spending time with each other doing the same thing, and sharing something with each other.

When I’ve expressed that to others, I’ve been told I’m ungrateful. That I should be thankful he’s willing to support my kids and me, and I shouldn’t care that the most time we spend together is in bed.

I am grateful for what he does for us, but to me, a relationship is about more than physical affection and just coexisting in the same space. I think in any relationship, there should definitely be space for each person to be an individual, but there should also be times to be a couple.

At least, that’s my opinion. I’m interested in hearing yours.

Spotlight on Mia Epsilon

And the final Breathless Press spotlight of 2014 is Mia Epsilon and her new book When You Believe. Welcome!

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Dan and Monica’s relationship gets a push from a handsome stranger, but will their love survive the test?

Monica has deep roots in the small town of Abbeville and manages the local coffee shop, which serves as the hub of town news. Deeply in love with Daniel, she still can’t help but notice the gorgeous stranger, Michael, who seemingly appears out of nowhere. When Dan begins to pull away from her, what’s a girl to do? Tempted to sit home and cry, Monica is determined to push through the uncertainty. Does that mean exploring new options?

Daniel carries secrets he can’t share with anyone, even Monica. He’s a man with no past and no relatives, so he doesn’t believe he deserves a bright future. He is certain pulling away from Monica, his love and the closest thing he has to a family, is the only way she can truly find happiness. But when tragedy strikes Abbeville, will the man with no roots become its savior? Or will he discover Michael’s true reason for appearing among them?

 

EXCERPT:

“Am I interrupting something?” Dan came in the door and stood just inside, his expression confused. “Is everything okay?”

“No. Amber is convinced Michael is some assassin here to kill someone for Jamie Manning who’s part of the Irish mafia.” She pointed at Dan as he burst into laughter and glared at Amber. “There. See how ridiculous you’re being?”

“Oh, that’s too funny. Adam and Emily would get such a kick out of that. I bet Chief Owens would, too.” Dan bent over as he continued to laugh. “Come on, that’s too silly to be real.”

“Well, okay, so maybe it is.” Amber conceded with a hard note in her tone. “But you have to admit the guy is weird and freaky things happen around him.”

Dan straightened and walked over to put an arm around Monica’s shoulders. “He is, I agree. But he’s no killer. He grabbed the Marley kid out of the street a few weeks back. And Monica told me how he saved Anna from falling right before she gave birth to the twins. No assassin does nice things like that.”

“So what’s his last name? And where is he staying?” Amber demanded. “I’m going to find out before something really bad happens. Then you two will have to eat your words.” She stomped off to the back room, shoulders and spine stiff straight.

 

AUTHOR BIO:

Mia Epsilon lives with her ever patient and tolerant soul mate hubby in the gorgeous Blue Ridge Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina, USA. She’s an avid reader of almost anything but particularly romance, with too many favorite authors to name. Mia is a huge Doctor Who fan, isn’t so certain about the writing in the new series yet absolutely adores the new Doctor and his Scottish accent. She also happily suffers a chocolate addiction, which causes her to visit her favorite chocolate store, The Chocolate Fetish an abnormally high number of times.

Mia can most often be found at her computer spinning new tales or in a quiet padded nook (a nook, she swears, not a padded room) with her e reader happily engrossed in a new story. She’s currently hard at work on her series “Weddings by C & C” and trying to build its reputation from “just another wedding story” to “OMG you have got to read this book!” She appreciates all reader input and comments on her Face Book, Twitter, Amazon and Good Reads pages. Her released titles include: Wedding Belle Blues, Take a Chance on Me, When You Believe, and That Night, along with a short story in The Wonderland Tales, Leave Your Hat On.

Connect with Mia and Buy Links:

Blog: Authors, Books & Chocolate: The True ABC’s of Life miaepsilon.blogspot.com

Face Book: MiaEwrites (Mia Epsilon Author)

Twitter: Mia Epsilon @MiaEpsilon

Breathless Press home page: www.breathlesspress.com: Mia Epsilon

http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=product_free_shipping_info&cPath=15&products_id=582&zenid=21617d34fb685eb3713c0c23496255b3

Amazon: Amazon.com/author/miaepsilon: http://www.amazon.com/Mia-Epsilon/e/B00DQ61FRM

Good Reads: Mia Epsilon https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/14292463-mia-epsilon

Bookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/mia-epsilon

All Romance ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html

Spotlight on Erzabet Bishop

The first Breathless Press spotlight today is author Erzabet Bishop, and her new book Holidays in Hell. Welcome!

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Deck the halls with all things kinky. Jonas is an incubus with an incurable lust for gingerbread and holiday lights. When he finds himself falling for Holly Pendleton, the woman he has marked as the final soul to end his contract, he faces a heart wrenching decision: take what he needs to feed his hunger or sacrifice himself for the woman who has lit his own demonic soul on fire. Tied up with red ribbons, Holly just might be Jonas’s deepest Christmas wish and the one woman who could set him free.

Excerpt:

“It’s twisted.” Mallory sniped, her tone coolly disapproving. Grabbing Jonas by the arm, they trudged down the main street of the Old Towne shopping district, dodging tourists and rabid consumers on a mission.

“What?”

“You’ve lost your mind completely. Here? At a shopping mall? Seriously?”

“Why not? It’s not like they’ll even notice.” Jonas glanced in Mallory’s direction and stared after the white coat of a woman he’d just seen in the crowd. It was strange, but it almost seemed like she was following them. Jonas didn’t care. He stuffed the panic down and resumed his vigil. Somewhere out there was his last conquest. He just had to find her.

Holiday music piped through the air and the smell of chestnuts roasting wafted toward the crowd. The Carver Hills Old Towne Winter Carnival was in full force and it warmed Jonas’s soul to see it. Throwing caution to the wind, he let out another burst of energy and sent it spiraling into the crowd. What could it hurt? He was here on a shopping expedition of his own, and it wasn’t for the latest transforming doll or gadget. Nope. Lust was his mission. He was hungry.

“Because…” Mallory’s voice trailed off as she patted the squirming dog in her purse. Terrance yipped and gave an indignant growl. Stuffed into a red sweater, the little black Chihuahua looked absolutely miserable.

“Oh my God, Jonas. Why do you have to always pick the toughest crowd? It’s a needle in a haystack.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion. I, for one, am going to check things out and find something, or someone, to eat.” Jonas’s lips curved up in a smile at Mallory’s irritated and completely unladylike snort.

“Mallory, if I want a cheeseburger I’ll go to a drive-through. I want something a little more substantial. And that means I’m going to have to work for it, okay?”

She stared at him, a mutinous look on her face. Terrance yipped and she reached down absently to pet him. He shook, trying to curl himself into a ball inside Mallory’s large gold purse but having a hard time.

“You’d better get him in out of the cold. The little guy’s shaking like a leaf.”

“He’s fine,” she snapped.

“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when his little bladder decides it’s time to void all over your cell.”

“Ugh! Jonas. That’s disgusting. Terrence wouldn’t do that, would you, honey?” Mallory reached down and gave the dog a kiss on the top of his smooth black head.

The dog whined and shook.

“Go on, Mal. I’ll be fine.” Please. So I can get down to business.

He knew what he wanted. Lust was, after all, his personal vice of the seven deadlies. It really didn’t matter the form. It was usually sex that got people into trouble, but any old lust would do. And right now, he wanted to indulge in a little proclivity of his own. If Mallory would leave him the hell alone, that is. The need was there and it was clawing at his gut relentlessly. But so was the desire to revel in the holidays. If things went badly, it would be his last ride on the bus, so to speak. He didn’t want to miss a thing.

This was his most favorite time of year. Christmas. Twinkling lights. Tacky reindeer yard ornaments. Tinsel. Garlands. Ah, the things you could do with a garland. A little tricky rope work and a willing partner and you had yourself your own little bondage Christmas carol. A happy smile tilted up the corner of his mouth. It was funny as Hell, really. A lust demon with a fetish for Christmas ornaments.

Erzabet Bishop Author Pic

About the author:

Erzabet Bishop has been crafting stories since she could pound keys on her parents’ old typewriter. She has only just learned that it is a whole lot more fun writing naughty books.

Although she is new to Breathless Press, she is a contributing author to several websites and magazines and has an extremely impressive backlist of more than 50 books, articles and short stories and was also a finalist for the GCLS 2014 awards in two separate categories. She will be releasing several new titles through Breathless Press in the coming months.

 

She lives in Texas with her husband and furry children, and can often be found lurking in local bookstores. She loves to bake, make naughty crochet projects, and watch monster movies.

When she isn’t writing, she loves to review music and books.

Follow her reviews and posts on Twitter @erzabetbishop.

Links:

The Romance Reviews: http://www.theromancereviews.com/100004193823883

Wix (website and newsletter sign up): http://erzabetwrites.wix.com/erzabetbishop

Are: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=Erzabet+Bishop

About Me: http://about.me/erzabet.bishop/#

Facebook “like” page: https://www.facebook.com/erzabetbishopauthor

Author WordPress blog: http://erzabetbishop.wordpress.com/

Amazon author page: http:// amazon.com/author/erzabetbishop/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6590718.Erzabet_Bishop

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/erzabet.bishop

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/erzabetbishop/

Lesfic Blog: http://lesficandlipstick.wordpress.com/

Review Blog: http://erzabetsenchantments.blogspot.com/

Author Database: http://authorsdb.com/authors-directory/2690-erzabet-bishop

Special Guest Clare Dargin

Today I’m hosting author Clare Dargin, whose erotic menage romance Merry “Chris”mas will release from Siren Publishing on Christmas Eve. Click the link to pre-order. Welcome!

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PRE-ORDER!

AVAILABLE: Wednesday, December 24th

This title is offered at a 10% discount. Offer ends midnight CST, December 31st

[Ménage Amour: Erotic Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, HEA]

Jilly Reimers wants love but can’t find it. Chris Spinell is a veteran of the war in Afghanistan who suffers from PTSD and a haunting feeling that something is missing in his life. Chris Poole is also an Afghanistan war veteran is ready to break out of his shell but is unsure how.

With Christmas just around the corner, they decide not to spend it alone. Believing The Love Play Matchmaking Service to be just what they need for a night of fun and passion, they sign up. But when the guys show up and see that they’ve been set up on a menage, the only one happy about it is Jilly.

Their consultant, called an Eros, assures Jilly that the service has a perfect track record but she’s certain they’ll be the first ones to get their money back. Will they have a very merry Christmas? Or will the three spend yet another one alone?

A Siren Erotic Romance

 

Excerpt

Jilly idly twirled a lock of her hair as she gazed at the fire. The meal was good, a bit awkward, but all right. Now with Chris S. in the shower, she and Chris P., who’d freshened up after her, sat beside her. She hoped she’d get a chance to know him a little better, now that they were alone.

Unlike Chris S., Chris P. was quiet, more reserved. His warm smile could melt ice. They’d spoken a bit about his life in Australia and how he met the other Chris when they were on Diego Garcia, a tiny atoll in the Pacific. It was there he garnered a better perspective on life, friendships and love. She reasoned that war tended to do that to a person.

She looked at him again, admiring what she saw. He was gorgeous. If only she were a femme fatale like her friends. She pictured grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and planting a long seductive kiss on his pouty lips. Anything to ease the tension between her legs and the moisture dripping from her swollen pussy.

Golden and sun-kissed like a surfer, he had a look impossible to have around this time of year in Michigan, unless he spent countless hours in a tanning booth. But at the same time he didn’t look like the type who’d go to one. He seemed too rugged. She glanced at his short, flaxen hair, which he wore pulled back in a stubby tail. It accentuated his keen facial features. His physique, like that of a gladiator, made her want to whimper. Built like a brick wall without being too thick, he was three words—supple, etched, steel. And his Australian accent added to his raw sexiness.

Whereas Chris S. was the perfect picture type of the all-American, boy-next-door type, with light brown hair and sandy-colored tips and eyes so blue they looked like the color of tropical water. He reminded her of the high school captain of the football team who’d gone into the military and become a man, except he had a sensitive edge that permeated his being. While Chris P., who looked like he could take on a few guys at once, was more lighthearted and outgoing.

Either way, she knew she hit the jackpot because both guys were like something out of a magazine called Hot Guys “R” Us. They were a perfect ten. It was best Christmas gift anyone could have ever given her. She hoped a Chris Sandwich was definitely on the menu for the night. But how to get past the talking stage, she had no clue. She wondered if all of her Love Play’s match ups started like this.

Wearing some leggings and a cami, and he a T-shirt and shorts, she suddenly felt overdressed. The art of seduction was not something they taught in any of the schools she’d attended, and she sure as hell never picked up any pointers from her so-called “friends.” And her exes never gave her any encouragement in that department either.

This date should have come with instructions. I think I’m in trouble.

She let out a long sigh.

“Did you say something?” Chris P. asked, stirring from his long silence.

“I was just thinking how beautiful this place is,” she lied. What? How lame is that?

“It is. I’ve never been to a place quite like this.”

“Love Play has quite a reputation.”

“You’ve used it before?” He perked up, facing her.

Heat burned her cheeks. “No. It’s what I heard from some of their clients.”

“So have you been married?” he asked.

“No.”

“Neither have I. Never found anyone to get serious with,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t know. Maybe cupid’s arrow doesn’t work on me.”

“For me they’re defective. Or maybe his aim is bad,” she said, trying to suppress the memory of her ex-boyfriend.

“What do you mean?”

“My relationships, they never work out.” She shrugged her shoulders. “For whatever reason, they seem to choose my friends over me. Or it ends up that way once we get together.”

He shook his head. “Nah. They were bad blokes from the start. Believe me. I know. I’ve been around those types my entire life. The randier they are, the worse they will be. If a man wants you, he’ll stay.” His tone was soft, almost vulnerable.

“Maybe.”

“So tell me,” he said, turning to face her, “you ordered this hook up?”

Again, her face flushed. She imagined it turning its characteristic red when the blood rushed to her cheeks.

“Yes. But according to the guidelines, you would have either had to be open to it or requested it too. Right?”

He chuckled. “I see he also got the smart I asked for. Yes, I am open to a ménage.” His expression became serious. “Do you think me odd?”

“No. I’m glad we share that desire.”

Spotlight on Pelaam

For the second Breathless Press spotlight today, I’m welcoming back author Pelaam, with her new Christmas book, A Touch of the Heart.

 

Christmas—a time for Santa, elves, and angels. But they don’t exist. Or do they? Alex is about to find out.

Alex loves making Christmas special for the customers who visit his shop, despite his own sadness and loneliness. He employs Michael as his store Santa, and when a young would-be shoplifter, Jackson, is caught, he’s persuaded by Michael to give him a chance. To Alex’s surprise, he’s attracted to Jackson, but he really has no idea how to deal with it.

Will Alex get a touch of the heart from an angel to help him find the love he deserves?

EXCERPT:

Heading downstairs on Michael’s heels, Alex ignored the curious glances of the gathered crowd. The guard had taken the young man over to Jayne, his senior till operator. The pinched and sour look on Jayne’s face told Alex she, too, had become judge, juror, and executer in regards to the would-be shoplifter. She met Alex’s gaze squarely as he approached.

“It’s all right. Everything’s under control. I’ve told security to call the police. He probably wanted to sell the scarf to get money for drink or drugs.”

An inner voice told Alex that wasn’t the case. Yes, the man had piercings, and tattoos, but that was no reason to make such a sweeping judgment. Especially in front of onlookers. The guilt and sadness in the young man’s eyes were unmissable. This was no seasoned thief. His skin was pale, but blemish-free, and he didn’t strike Alex as someone who did drugs.

Stepping between the guard and Jayne, Alex held up his hand. “Don’t call the police just yet. I haven’t decided whether I need them or not. What’s the story here, Max?”

“Seems this feller thought he didn’t need to pay like everyone else.” The guard shook the young man’s arm. “Spotted him slipping a scarf inside his jacket. Are you sure you don’t want me to call the police? This lady did.” Max indicated Jayne, who glowered at the young man.

“It would teach him a good lesson to be locked up.” Jayne sniffed loudly.

Instinctively, Alex felt certain that was far from the truth. He shook his head. “Not now. Thank you for spotting what happened, Max, but I’d like to speak to him in my office.”

“I’ll hang around.” Max glared at the man as Michael and the would-be shoplifter headed toward the stairs.

“Don’t let him fool you with some sob story,” Jayne called out.

“That won’t be necessary. I can call the police if needed.” Alex glanced over his shoulder and wasn’t surprised to see Jayne, the guard, and a few customers huddled around the till. He shook his head.

Once in his office, Alex sat at his desk with Michael and the stranger opposite him, seated next to each other. He steepled his fingers and leaned forward. “Why don’t you tell us your name to start with?”

“Look, I did it. Just call the cops and get this over, okay? I knew my luck would run out eventually. Don’t drag it out.” The young man’s green-eyed gaze was filled with defeat, and his voice was world-weary. Alex’s heart ached at the despondent tone.

 

AUTHOR BIO:

Living in clean, green New Zealand, Pelaam is a best-selling, multipublished author of gay romance and erotic books. When not busy writing, she can be found indulging in her other passions of cookery and wine appreciation.

Pelaam’s book Breath of the Feathered Serpent is a finalist for the 2014 Rainbow Awards in Gay Futuristic/Sci-fi and has been given an Honorable Mention. Bedazzled and Firebird were a combined finalist for the Rainbow Awards in Gay Futuristic/sci-fi 2013.

Facebook:

Pamela Pelaam-One

E-mail:

pelaam@hotmail.com

Spotlight on Pelaam

Today’s second Breathless Press spotlight is on author Pelaam and her new release Horse of Bells. Welcome!

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A legendary horse, magic, and a man shrouded in mystery. Who can he trust? Caolan risks both his heart and his life to uncover the truth.

When his life is saved by a stranger, Prince Caolan feels an immediate connection to the man, and promises to meet him again. Forced to break that promise to protect his brother Donal, Caolan waits for the day he can return to the forest.

On their trip home, almost a year later, he and Donal are tricked by their step-mother into attempting to steal the legendary Horse of Bells from the infamous Dark Prince Tuathal. Honor-bound to accept the geis she set them, the brothers leave their castle to complete the quest.

During their journey, they meet the enigmatic Traveler. Caolan is confused and troubled by his reaction to the man. Is he a friend, or are his intentions darker and more deadly?

EXCERPT:

The morning came without further event, and Caolan consigned his fear to simple nervousness regarding his brother’s challenge. They rebuilt the fire and set some water to boil while they washed at the stream. Laughing together, they returned to their camp and stopped abruptly. A stranger sat at their fire, roasting a couple of skinned rabbits as if he had been expected for breakfast.

Caolan stared at him. He felt as if he should know the man, and yet he knew no one with such unruly sandy-brown hair. The newcomer’s beard seemed better maintained; it was but a light coating of slightly redder hair. He couldn’t stop his blush as the man’s gaze locked with his as if he had been caught. They were the same frigid blue-grey the sea had been the day they had left for the Isles—cold, uninviting, and daunting.

“If I were a spy for the dark prince, I would by now be on my way there, laughing at how two young idiots were going to walk straight into the arms of waiting soldiers the minute they set foot in Prince Tuathal’s kingdom. It would probably be the only thing that would save you from his wrath, to know that you sat and openly discussed an attempt to steal the Horse of Bells.”

“Then you are clearly not a spy.” Caolan observed.

“Bravo. You have a modicum of brains to offset your beauty,” the stranger retorted.

The words, cold as the look in the man’s eyes, would normally have made Caolan bristle with anger. However he found himself inexplicably wishing the stranger was less hostile toward him.

“What do you want?” Donal asked. Caolan recognized the brusque, assertive tones as his brother sought to take control of the situation.

“I would travel with you. These are lonely and dangerous parts. I gain company and you gain someone well-versed in the treacherous swampland through which you must pass.” The stranger spoke as if his offer was the most natural thing in the world.

“I cannot believe you would do so out of generosity.” Caolan felt unable to resist the jibe.

“That surprises me not,” the stranger countered. “Perhaps our hearts are alike. For payment…” He paused as if considering what would be suitable, yet Caolan was certain the man already knew exactly what he wanted. “Payment will be my asking the truth of you on your honor at a time of my own choosing.”

Caolan stood and stared with his mouth open but unable to formulate a reply. As if from a distance he heard Donal answer for him.

“It’s agreed.” Donal winked at him, but Caolan was certain there would be no way of telling a falsehood to this man.

“Good. Then let us break our fast. I already know your names. You may call me Traveler,” he said.

With a sinking heart Caolan sat next to Donal and accepted a plate holding a generous piece of roasted rabbit.

While his brother sat and ate his serving with gusto, Caolan’s attention was more focused on the man who now sat with his head bowed. He knew he’d never seen Traveler before, and yet there was a familiarity that made Caolan ill at ease. A niggling feeling, that Traveler was more than he seemed, made Caolan’s stomach twist into knots. Who are you really, and why do you make me feel I should know you?

 

BIO:

Pelaam lives in clean, green New Zealand. She is a multi-published author of gay male romance and erotica across time and space. When not writing, she indulges in her other passions of cookery and wine appreciation. She can be found on Facebook, and a full list of her published works are on Lazy Beagle Entertainment.

Spotlight on Carolyn LaRoche

Today’s first Breathless Press spotlight is on author Carolyn LaRoche and her new book Witness Protection. Welcome!

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Someone wants Angelina dead…again. Will following her heart put her in danger, or in the arms of the man she’s meant to be with?

As far as the world knows, NYPD detective Angelina Ferrara died in a violent firefight on Chelsea Piers over a year ago. Living in the witness protection program as history teacher Lucy Taylor was supposed to save her life, but being alive and living were two very different things. Until she meets Detective Logan James when he goes undercover in the same private school where she works. Something about the handsome man with the gorgeous blue eyes piques her interest. There’s no doubt he has secrets…but then so does she. When the Ricci crime family discovers she’s still alive, she finds herself on the run with Logan. Her heart led her astray before. Can she trust it to let Logan help her survive?

EXCERPT:

Her little car had an engine about as powerful as a hamster wheel. There was no way she was going to outrun the truck that was accelerating with lightning speed. On one side of her was a deep ravine, the other the steep slope of a mountain towered high and tree covered. The steering wheel vibrated as she pushed her little car to its limits, sheer adrenaline keeping her focused on the winding road. As she rounded a sharp curve, the back tires spun and fishtailed out from behind her. The tiny car shook violently as Lucy struggled to maintain control. The SUV caught up with her then, ramming into her rear bumper. The car groaned but held on. Lucy spun the wheel to make the next sharp curve, all the while her eyes searched for a way off the dangerous mountain highway. Another crash from behind jolted her car forward with such force Lucy lost her grip on the steering wheel. The car veered right but she managed to straighten it out before hitting the tree line.

“What the hell do you want with me?” she screamed at the truck in her rearview mirror.

The driver responded by slamming into the back of her car again. Metal ground against metal, gravel flew everywhere, and the car careened toward a thick bank of trees to her left. Straightening the car once more, Lucy crushed the gas pedal to the floor and watched as the speedometer climbed quickly. Lucy felt the little rush of excitement she always got in a good pursuit despite the fact that she was the one being pursued.

She whipped around yet another curve, and the SUV caught up with her. Just as she managed to get her little car under control again, the SUV crashed into her back end again with such force Lucy thought her car might shatter there in the middle of the road. The little car veered to the right, aiming straight for the side of the road and the ravine beyond. Lucy tried to regain control but the effort was in vain. She braced herself as the car plowed through thick vegetation, hit something, and started to slide down the steep embankment.

She heard the growl of the SUV’s engine roaring away over the revving of her own engine as the tiny car crashed through the underbrush. The car flew over a log and landed on the slick vegetation covering the incline. The car lost its hold on the ground and rolled its way down the slope, finally landing up against the trunk of a large pine tree where the engine died. Lucy’s head smacked against the steering wheel knocking her near to senseless. Everything fell deathly silent as she fought to remain conscious.

A loud crack broke the silence. As she watched through the broken windshield, the tree in front of her began to wobble. Blood trailed from her forehead into her left eye, blurring her already shaky vision. Rubbing at it with the back of her arm, she used her other hand to desperately claw at the seat belt release.

If she didn’t get out of the car, the tree was going to fall right on top of her.

The giant pine swayed once and then began its descent toward Lucy and her crumpled car. Yanking hard at the jammed seat belt, her head swimming and her stomach churning, Lucy finally freed herself. Just as the tree crushed the roof of her car, like it were nothing more than a tin can, Lucy pulled her body through the opening that used to be the driver’s side window.

Cracking wood and crunching metal stirred up a cacophony of birds and small animals protesting the intrusion in their habitat. Lucy lay on the damp moss and rotting leaves, her heart banging against her chest wall. The sound of her pulse racing in her ears muted the sound of the creaks and groans as the tree settled against what was left of her car. Every inch of her body hurt, but her head ached most of all.

 

Carolyn LaRoche Author picture

 

Carolyn LaRoche grew up in snow country but fled the cold and ice several years ago. She now lives near the beach with her husband, their two boys, two finicky cats, and one old dog. When she is not at the baseball field cheering on big hits and home runs, she is busy teaching science to unwilling teenagers. She is co-author of the book The Crazy Lives of Police Wives and hangs out online at both Carolyn La Roche – Author and The Crazy Lives of Police Wives.

She also writes a blog titled Boys, Badges and Writers Block about the joys and challenges of raising boys and living the law enforcement wife life found at http://boysbadgeswritersblock.blogspot.com/

You can also find her and her books at:

Social and Buy Links

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorCarolynLaRoche?ref=hl

www.carolynlarocheauthor.blogspot.com

http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=product_free_shipping_info&cPath=26&products_id=694&zenid=0a2cd36645d80576b8bcbd8b9ea4f716

http://www.amazon.com/Witness-Protection-Defenders-Love-Book-ebook/dp/B00P5N8MRU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1415565480&sr=8-1&keywords=witness+protection+carolyn+laroche

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.

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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*

Excerpt

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.

 

BIO:

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.

 allieburrow

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:

Blog

Facebook

Twitter

Google+

Pinterest

Amazon

Goodreads

YouTube (as Aurelia)

Spotlight on Ember Leigh

Our second Breathless Press author today is Ember Leigh, with her new release Carlos and Casey.

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Casey hasn’t seen Carlos in four years, but a business trip brings the ex-lovers together, and the fire comes roaring to life.

Recently divorced, Casey has been longing for a man’s touch. So when business brings her back to Carlos, the one that got away, it has to be fate. Casey soon discovers the four years apart have only done him better, and soon all she can think about is having his arms, and body, wrapped around hers. But Carlos is not the same man he was four years ago. Can Casey help reignite his fire or has time left them behind?

EXCERPT:

Her breath caught as she followed him up the staircase, tucked to the far side of the house. Carlos had always been fit enough, but it looked like he’d taken up some new form of exercise in the past four years. He was beefier, yet still lean. His ass moved round and tight in front of her as they climbed the stairs. At the landing, he gestured in front of them.

“This is my studio, but it’s all yours for tonight.”

It was a rec room that took up the whole second floor, and far more standard male than the ground floor alluded to. Movie posters, gaming systems, books scattered on floors and coffee tables, and, off to one side, the trumpet, asleep in a bed of sheet music. In the corner there was an overstuffed couch just about as wide as she was long – it would be great to sleep on, even better if he could bend her over that armrest and fuck her until dinner was ready.

She cleared her throat, deciding adult friendships could be fun, even after four questionable years. “I thought I’d be sharing a bed with you?” She tried to keep her tone playful as she sauntered toward the couch. She tossed him a smile and she caught a glimpse of him looking very stricken. Shit. Too far. Things are too different now. Abort!

Maybe too much time had passed in general. Maybe he was courting a girl and wanted to take it slow with her. Maybe he no longer found her attractive, four years becoming the dagger in the heart. Maybe he’d become celibate, or found her life too normal and boring. There was a whole list of reasons why she shouldn’t make the first move.

“I was just joking,” she said after a moment, rolling her eyes. “Come on, lighten up.”

He exhaled slowly, looking down at the ground as his tongue found the corner of his mouth. “I know it was a joke, Case.”

“In case you forgot, we used to share a bed.” She looked at him pointedly, already horrified that the words were coming from her lips. What was she getting at? Who had authorized this dialogue?

He squeezed his eyes shut and laughed softly. “Oh, I remember.”

 

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Ember Leigh has been writing erotic romance novels since she was far too young.  A native of northern Ohio, she currently resides in South America with her Argentinean partner, a detail she uses to justify her Bachelor’s degree in Latin American Literature. In addition to romance novels, she also writes travel articles, maintains three blogs, and continually attempts to complete a mildly-gripping short story. In her free time, she practices Ashtanga yoga, travels the world, and eats lots of vegetables.

Spotlight on Leona Bushman

It’s Breathless Press day again, and first up is author Leona Bushman. Leona’s new release is The Midwife’s Moon.

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An ex-lover on trial, life as a newly formed werewolf, and a passion kindled; what’s a girl to do? Released from depraved control of a psychotic lupa, free to find his mate, and a passion kindled; what’s a man to do?

Lisa Sanchez is having a bad couple of years. She was betrayed by her lover and made into a werewolf but she’s making the best of her new life…except when it comes to love. Lisa is out of luck in that department until Lance arrives in her not-so-perfect life.

Lance Navarro once saved his mate from the clutches of his ruthless pack leader by hiding her in a rival pack. Then the packs merged and things got interesting.

Can Lisa accept that Lance is to be her new mate, and get past the betrayal of the last wolf who made promises? Can Lance protect her from the vindictive pack leader? Or will they end up sharing an early grave?

EXCERPT:

His hands started shaking, his breathing hitched, and his senses came to full alert. What’s triggered my wolf? Cautious even though he didn’t sense immediate danger, he began searching his surroundings. As his heart rate increased and a surge of sexual excitement hit him, he panicked. Had his time with Roxy made him so sick he equated danger with sex?

That can’t be right. He always feared sex with Roxy. His body reacted, but his mind never got excited. Wary now, he sniffed the air and all at once, it hit him. She was nearby. His mate. The one who didn’t know him, but he knew her wolf form. The sound of gentle laughter trickled in the wind, engorged with sadness to his ears. Melancholy he recognized, for he’d laughed like that. Laughed and smiled to hide the pain.

Now his heart restricted and plugged his ears as a roaring sound filled them. His wolf snarled within him and wanted to attack whatever caused such sadness in his mate. He walked faster, wanting a glimpse of the woman who was his mate. Still he couldn’t see her. A group of people walked ahead of him nearly to the door. She must be among them. Worried he’d lose her, he started to run, and the fear from the group escalated. They moved inside quickly with only a man turning his face to him.

Lance slowed back to a walk and went in, his shoulders hunched, hands in pockets to appear unthreatening. The warehouse, jammed from one end to the other except around the center raised half-circle, echoed with voices, shouts, anger, jealousy, and fright. He tried to pinpoint the fright as it felt so misplaced. Every wolf in here should smell the fear and react, yet only he seemed concerned.

A loud clanging in his head nearly drove him to his knees. An old-fashioned clock with metal ticking noises had taken up residence in his eardrums and did not look to be leaving any time soon. He fisted his hands in his pockets and looked around. Was he the only one who could hear the minutes counting down?

The crowd around him receded, and the noise in his eardrums became his focus. He followed his instincts and moved slowly as if in a dream. A petite woman in a black overcoat stood in front of him. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she turned and looked at him.

Her eyes widened in shock as did his. His hand, still suspended where he’d intended to touch her to get her attention, moved up to her bronze cheek, caressing softly. The deep brown eyes gazed at him in wonder before closing up to him. He saw it as clear as day even as he told himself he imagined it. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t flinched, but she had closed down—except for the one brilliant moment when their souls met.

 

AUTHOR BIO:

Leona Bushman goes by many names but the most well-known one is superhero. She earned this name from saving a kangaroo from a tree—and yes that is as hard as it sounds. The dragons taught their queen how to write, and Queen Leona hasn’t looked back, even when her muse tries to muck things up.

She can be found goofing off and loving dragons and other creatures of the supernatural at these places:

Twitter: @L_Bushman

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLeonaBushman

 

Passion in Print:

Murder by Succubus

 

Breathless Press:

The Ulfric’s Mate*

Ravaged, Vol 1 ~ Barely There*

Rick Sexed Up the Doc ~ Naughty Nursery Rhyme

The Captain’s Christmas ~ Cyber

Crimson, Vol 1 ~ Daryn’s Slayer **my story is an historical vamp/wolf story

Serviced, Vol 1 ~ Over A Dead Body

The Midwife’s Moon*

Down on the Farm, Vol 1 ~ The Lion, the Witch, and the Faeries

Slow Burn ~Dead Man Walking special

Ravaged, Vol 2

The Shot**

*Denotes War of the Weres

**Denotes Traincoach of Death Steampunk series

Just Ink Press:

Mayhem in Mexico ~Urban Sci-fi~ please note, this is not a romance.