erotic – Nomad Authors Blog

New Release! Fin d’Espoir A Bisexual Vampire Romance by Lisabet Sarai

Their love may be his last hope for redemption.

MMF Vampire Erotic Romance, HFN ending
22,000 words, 81 pages
Smashwords and Amazon KDP

Teaser:
The ruins loomed close. The scent of burnt wood still lingered in the night air, though the plantation had obviously been destroyed years before. Chunks of blackened plaster and shards of glass lay strewn along their path. The moon, struggling through the dispersing storm clouds, turned the glass into sparks of cold fire. The shadows clinging to the building grew denser, congealing into impenetrable pools of dark. Malevolence hung over the place like a fog.

Maddy knew she should try to escape. This was her last chance. She sensed that once she entered this forbidding dwelling, she would be lost. Fin d’Espoir, he had called it—the end of hope. Or perhaps, the last hope. She stirred feebly in the black giant’s arms, but she was too exhausted to do more.

“Hush,” he crooned. “Just a moment now.”

Blurb:
Bitter and alone, Etienne de Rémorcy haunts the forest around the ruined plantation of Fin d’Espoir. He has sworn to never again taste human blood. Then a fierce storm and a runaway horse bring a slender, raven-haired beauty to his lair. When she begs him to take her, he cannot resist.

Madeleine and Troy hope that a carefree vacation in tropical Jamaica will reignite their faded passion. On a mountain trail ride, Maddy’s horse bolts, carrying her deep into the jungle. Injured and lost, she is saved by a giant of a man whose mere presence kindles unbearable desire. By the time she understands his dark nature, it is far too late for her to escape.

When Maddy returns, Troy finds her greatly changed : ravenous in bed, restless and disturbed otherwise. The elegant stranger he meets on the beach holds the key to her transformation – and soon has seduced Troy as well.

Tortured by his conscience, Etienne is determined to set the young couple free. But their love may be his last hope for redemption.

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound under the title Fire in the Blood. It has been edited and updated for this release.

Buy Links:
Kinky Literature – https://kinkyliterature.com/book/8227-fin-despoir-a-bisexual-vampire-romance/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08K55W8QD

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08K55W8QD

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1045343

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/fin-despoir-lisabet-sarai/1137780673?ean=2940164262006

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/fin-d-espoir-a-bisexual-vampire-romance

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/55526630-fin-d-espoir

Online Excerpt:
https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2020/10/coming-monday-dark-vampire-romance.html

Excerpt:
The horse lurched and shuddered, plunging down a sudden slope. Maddy barely escaped tumbling over his head. A broken branch ripped through her shorts and gashed her thigh. Lightning bloomed overhead. In the brief instant of brightness, she glimpsed ragged cliffs towering above them and a lush valley below. Thunder and profound darkness descended together.

The horse continued his downward rush. Desperate, Maddy clung to the saddle, her legs aching with the effort. It was all too easy to imagine herself broken and trampled on that rocky ground.

Impossible brilliance dawned, followed by a crash that left her ears ringing. Maddy smelled ozone and charred wood. An orange tongue flared on a nearby ridge, silhouetting towering trees before it was quenched by the downpour.

The ground became more level. Her mount picked up speed, splashing through a stream that crossed his route and showering her legs with water far colder than the rain. The underbrush thinned. They raced along through a natural tunnel formed by the branches arching overhead. Another lightning bolt crackled through the forest. It illumined what looked like a man-made structure, a few hundred yards ahead.

“Hello!” she yelled, trying to make herself heard above the din of the storm. “Anyone—please—help…!” She peered into the grey-green shadows. Had she been mistaken? The rain eased slightly. The damp breeze was redolent of smoke and growing things.

She must have loosened her grip. Lightning arced through the sky, followed by a crack of thunder that rattled her bones. The stallion froze, screaming its terror to the freshening wind. It rose on its hind legs, beating the air with its front hooves and dashing Maddy to the ground.

Lightning snaked across the clouds. Like its twin, fiery pain forked in Maddy’s ankle. The horse reared above her prone body, ready in its mad fear to crush her into the muddy earth. Grimacing with the effort, she tried to roll out of the way, though she knew she was too late.

“Whoa now, my pretty. Du calme, du calme.”

A man’s voice, deep and resonant, full of power. The stallion responded immediately, dropping back to all fours and hanging its head. A tall figure stepped out from behind a tree and grasped the bridle. “Good boy,” he murmured in the horse’s ear, gently stroking its muzzle all the while. “No need to fear now. Calm down.”

The transformation from a crazed beast to a docile pet was close to instantaneous. The man’s voice had a similar effect on Maddy, slowing her racing heart, even easing the throbbing in her ankle.

The stranger loomed over her, a huge man-shaped shadow. Full night had arrived, and Maddy could see nothing of the man’s features. She shivered and felt her heartbeat quicken once again. She was lost and alone, crippled by an ankle that was sprained if not broken. What could she do to protect herself?

He sank on his haunches next to her aching, muddy body. “Are you hurt, Miss?” he asked, his vowels rounded by the traces of French. Maddy’s fear melted in the warmth of that rich voice. The scent of roses tickled her nostrils. The pain in her ankle dwindled to an occasional annoying twinge.

The man’s skin reminded her of the Blue Mountain coffee she and Troy had enjoyed at breakfast, a brown so dark it was almost black. Raindrops gleamed on his smooth cheeks and pooled in the hollow of his throat. Looking at him made her thirsty. He was powerfully built, with massive shoulders swelling out from his worn denim vest. Underneath, his muscled chest was bare. A tight frizz of black hair grew in the furrow between his breasts.

As he crouched at her side, his jeans stretched taut over his thighs but hung loosely around his narrow hips. Another line of kinky curls ran down from his navel to disappear under his waistband.

His face was the visage of a Nubian king, prominent cheekbones and a fleshy nose with elegant, flared nostrils. His liquid-brown eyes were set wide apart, in deep sockets protected by the fine arch of his brows. His proud forehead rose above them, up to the tight-knit black frizz that covered his skull.

And his mouth… Maddy couldn’t stop herself from staring at those full lips, mahogany-red against his rosewood-dark face. They were parted in a half-smile that revealed the pearly white of perfect teeth.

Meet Lisabet:
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

New! From Lucy Felthouse–Search and Rescue

Blurb:
Kim’s trying to save the world—but is she actually going to make things worse?

Kim Medhurst is an ex-British military intelligence officer turned scientist and climate activist. A thrilling, potentially world-changing discovery leads her to a cave on a remote island off the Scottish coast. But before she can return to the mainland, a natural disaster traps her in the cave with limited food and water. Fortunately, she is an intelligent and resourceful woman who made a backup plan even before she stepped out of her own front door.

Enter Jason Chastain—owner and operator of a private security firm—and his friends Aidan Smith and twins Taylor and Joshua Greig. The foursome are also ex-military, so rescuing Kim should be a walk in the park for them.

However, her discovery is so top secret she hasn’t even told Chastain and his buddies precisely what their mission is—instead relying on money and intrigue to get them to do the job. It works, until a series of events turn the rescue mission into an escape mission. Throw in a further revelation that will change all of their lives irrevocably and Kim begins to wonder if she’s bitten off more than she can chew.

Should she have left things well alone, or can this colossal mess be turned into something positive? This is about so much more than just five human beings, after all.

PLEASE NOTE: Search and Rescue has a cliffhanger ending.

Buy now, or read in Kindle Unlimited: http://books2read.com/searchandrescue

Excerpt:

Chapter One
Jason Chastain

Jason gripped tightly onto the controls of the rigid inflatable boat—otherwise known as a RIB—as it bounced on the relentless, white-capped waves of the Atlantic Ocean. According to the GPS, they were closing in on their destination. And thank God for GPS; simply looking for their target was futile—it was pitch black, and the remote Scottish island they were headed for was uninhabited, so there were no lights to help guide them. Not even a bloody lighthouse. To make things worse, they didn’t know exactly what—or who—they were going to find when they landed, so they were in stealth mode, meaning no lights on their boat, either. When they got close enough, they’d have to kill the engine, too, so as not to be heard by anyone who might be waiting for them.

He hunched his shoulders against the biting wind which still managed to worm its way in through his layers of technical gear and muttered to himself. Complaining out loud was pointless—the waves and wind would stop the others from being able to hear a word he said, anyway.

Besides, he was really in no position to complain, since it was his fault the four of them were here in the first place.

The job offer had come in via the contact form on his security firm’s website—all mysterious and anonymous, and on the first read he’d almost dismissed it out of hand, his finger hovering over the ‘delete’ button even before he’d read the final line. It was so vague he’d thought it was spam, or someone pissing about—even organisations who wanted to employ him for highly classified missions usually gave more information than that. Not to mention more notice. But something, the merest grain of intrigue, had made him read the message through again and absorb it fully. Despite all the cloak and dagger, it seemed legit.

And when his phone pinged with an alert, prompting him to check his business bank account and find the promised amount just sitting there, all nonchalant-like, the grain of intrigue had turned into the Sahara Desert’s worth. Particularly since the amount in question was just a deposit to help with expenses and getting the mission off the ground. What would have happened if he’d refused the mission? Did he get to keep the money anyway? By this point, that wasn’t really an issue, anyway, since there were a hell of a lot more zeroes at play if he and the three buddies he had in mind to come with him managed to pull this off—a ridiculous sum, even when split four ways and taking costs into consideration.

Whoever the client was, they were extremely important, or insanely rich. Maybe both.

In other words, a good person to get on side. If he played his cards right, this mysterious client could keep him in work for a long time to come—if not personally, then by way of sharing contacts and word of mouth. Either way was good, as far as he was concerned.

Despite the secretive nature of this mission, it would certainly beat some of the two-bit jobs he’d taken on out of necessity in the past few months. Unfortunately, the need to eat and the requirement to pay bills didn’t go away just because the exciting work had dried up.

But this job could be the turning point. The one that launched him from dull bodyguarding of ‘celebrities’—some of those fuckers have been so Z-list that even Google doesn’t know who they are—and protecting sensitive goods to actually making a difference, like he used to do back in the military. Helping people. Taking bad people off the streets.

It could also be the job that launched him into the Atlantic Ocean—not for the first, but possibly for the final time. The RIB lurched violently, and Jason heard the rest of the crew swearing and exclaiming even over the roar of the elements. And these were guys who weren’t afraid of anything. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder and counted three large figures. They were all still there, and for now, that would have to do. There was no time to check in—according to the GPS, the shore was coming up fast, and he’d need all his concentration, skill, and brass fucking balls to land them on the beach in one piece. More importantly, the boat needed to be in one piece, since that was their way out, once they’d secured their target. Without it, they were royally fucked. Unlike in the military, they had no one to call, no backup, no rescue teams.

They were it.

He shook his head, wondering for the umpteenth time who the hell threw so much cash around in order to hire a four-man team to take on a monumental, potentially very dangerous task, knowing perfectly well that if it went tits up, there was no second chance? No clean up team?

The best he’d been able to come up with was: Someone desperate, with a need for secrecy.

So exactly who was desperate, secretive, and filthy rich?

It’s only a matter of time before we find out. If we ever make it onto this bloody beach, that is. He took a deep breath and squinted into the darkness, willing his eyes to pick up something useful. Normally he’d have donned his night-vision goggles, but the rain and the sea spray would splatter constantly onto the lenses, rendering them useless. All he could do was keep flicking his gaze between the GPS and the landscape in front of the boat and hope for the best. He wasn’t a religious man, but he mumbled some random words of prayer to the heavens anyway, just in case. Couldn’t hurt to try, and it certainly wouldn’t make things worse.

Finally, his vision and the gadget seemed to agree the beach was imminent. With another deep breath, Jason killed the engine and mentally crossed his fingers and toes they were close enough that the waves would wash the boat up onto the shore, rather than dragging it back out to sea. He’d researched tide times and planned accordingly, but he knew better than most that things didn’t always go to plan. Especially when it came to Mother Nature. She could be a sadistic bitch at times. But then, given the way the human race treated her, he could hardly blame her for lashing out from time to time.

Thankfully, after what felt like an interminable amount of time, but was actually only a few minutes, the equally terrifying and relief-inducing sound of the boat scraping on to dry land rang out—audible even over the wind and waves. Jason maintained a fierce, knuckle-whitening grip on the controls as the boat lurched, more to keep himself steady and to take out his nervousness on the rigid material beneath his fingers than anything—after all, the steering had lost most of its effectiveness the minute he’d switched off the engine. He’d never admit it to the guys, not in a million years, but his heart was in his mouth. These boats were built to be sturdy, designed to carry out exactly this kind of mission, but it wasn’t impossible that a particularly sharp rock or even something manmade that had been left or washed up onto the beach could puncture it.

He released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding when the boat came to a surprisingly gentle stop on the sand. He let go of the controls and gingerly relaxed his fingers and hands, then flexed them, wincing a little as the muscles, joints and tendons protested. Immediately, he dropped into a defensive crouch and began readying himself to disembark—they weren’t out of the woods yet. Far from it. For all they knew, there could be a hostile force lying in wait for them.

Once he was ready, he turned to the rest of the team, barely able to make out who was who in the darkness. He shuffled closer to ensure they could hear him. “All right, lads, this is it. Stay alert. We might be on dry land now, but it doesn’t mean we’re safe. I have literally no idea what we could be walking into here, so be prepared for anything. Comms check.”

They ran through the necessary, removed their lifejackets and stashed them in a heavy-duty container, and ensured they had all their gear. That done, Jason took the lead and carefully leapt off the boat, knowing the others would be right behind him. The four of them had always had each other’s backs, and that wasn’t about to change now. Especially not when the stakes were so high.

He dropped back into a crouch immediately after landing on the sand, and paused momentarily to flip his night-vision goggles—usable now they were off the ocean and in a more sheltered spot—into place before setting off to find a route off the beach. He turned his head from side to side, examining his surroundings. It was clear this was no sunbather’s beach, not even in the height of summer—such as it was in this part of the world. He reckoned he’d be more likely to bump into a smuggler here than a sunbather or a swimmer. The sand ran right up to the base of some inhospitable cliffs, craggy and steep.

Shit. I knew this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park, but I didn’t think we’d fall at the first fucking hurdle. Even smugglers wouldn’t be so daft as to end up here.

Buy now, or read in Kindle Unlimited: http://books2read.com/searchandrescue

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award), The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight, and The Heiress’s Harem and The Dreadnoughts series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Join her Facebook group for exclusive cover reveals, sneak peeks and more! Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter here: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

Daryl Devore’s newest, Two Truths and a Lie, won’t disappoint!

New! Two Truths and a Lie.
From Daryl Devoré, so you know it’s going to be good. And HOT!

Blurb and Buy Links –
From the author of the Two Hearts One Love Trilogy, multi-published, hot romance author Daryl Devoré’s latest book revolves around deceit, betrayal, passion and the theft of a multi-million-dollar, rare, red diamond.

As if multiple planes crashes, a car accident, and a concussion isn’t enough, carefree Byn and straight-laced billionaire, Mark clash over Byn’s need for independence and Mark’s struggle with guilt pushing him in the opposite direction of love. When an art forger, an art thief and a ninety-five-year-old woman get involved the chance for true love for Byn and Mark fades.

All is lost until a children’s game is their only hope.

D2D – links to Kobo, Apple, Barnes&Noble etc.

Print Book link available soon.

Pinterest – Two Truths and a Lie

Excerpt
“What are you doing there? Come here!”

I wheeled around. A short, rotund man in a tuxedo stood at the head of the hallway. He had an aristocratic annoyed look on his face.
There was little else I could do, so, I did the stammering bit again. “I… uh… I…”

“Come! Here!”

Perfect.

I stifled a smirk and let my bottom lip tremble, then I added a sniff and even managed a bit of tear, which I swiped at. I peeked up. He hadn’t moved but was beginning to turn a lovely shade of red. I took two stumbling steps toward him.

He stood taller, but it didn’t help. He still only came to my shoulder. “I expect you have a plausible reason for being in the hall. As you can see my guests are here in this room. There was no one in the hall.”

I was, you pompous idiot.

I dipped in a small curtsey, just playing up to his pompousness. “Mr. Chapman told me to take a drink to the office.”

“My office?”

I, simultaneously, shrugged and nodded. And for effect, I sniffed.

Like I know who the hell you are. You short, little twit.

“Why would he send you to deliver a drink that I didn’t order?”

I repeated my shrug. Alfred Lord Tennyson said it best in the Charge of the Light Brigade―Ours is not to reason why. Hmm, I’m get all British-y.

Mr. Chapman appeared at my side.

Thank heaven for little miracles.

“Ah, Lord Middleton. I was looking for you. There… seems to be a bit of a… problem in your office.”

The pompous idiot, also known as Lord Middleton, brushed past me, entered his office, disappeared for―at most―three Mississippis then burst out of the room. He placed himself toe to toe with me.

Because eyeball to eyeball wasn’t possible. I stifled a snicker.

His brow darkened. “Where is the diamond?”

Innocent look pasted on face, reply ready. “What diamond?” Brilliantly played.

“The safe was closed when I left my office. You did this. You had no right to be in there.” He jerked his cell phone from an inside pocket. “I am calling the police.”

He played right into my plan. I reacted like an overly dramatic, silent movie star. I raised my hands in horror, which tossed the whiskey down the front of Lord Pompous Idiot. I dropped the tray. It couldn’t make a dramatic crash as the hallway was carpeted. Darn. Then I edged myself back against the wall and cowered like a frightened animal.

The next few minutes were hysterical chaos as both men snapped questions at me. I dug deep and pulled up some tears and let them stream down my cheeks as I repeatedly mumbled, “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t take anything.”

But there was a fabulous Hallmark flash. A man stepped into the hallway, curiosity etched on his face. It was him―Lover Boy. He was tall, dark-haired, and scruffy or unshaven if you prefer. His tuxedo fit him like a second skin. There was no rotundness like Lord Idiot or knock-off anything like Mr. Chapman. The man was pure sophistication. Out of the hundred or so guests, he was the only one who had smiled at me when he requested a drink. That made him human and not an arrogant robotron. And that made him sexy.

Two Truths and a Lie by Daryl Devore

Meet the author of Two Truths and A Lie – Daryl Devoré
Q: Can you tell us a little bit about yourself?
A: Let’s start with I’m female. My name – Daryl – is both a male and a female name. If it is pronounced rhyming with Karl – then it is the female version. The male version rhymes with Carol.

I live in Eastern Ontario, Canada in a 175 yr old farm house.

I write under two pens names – Daryl Devoré writes hot romance and Victoria Adams writes sweet romance. Although, I am about to fade out Victoria and meld her into Devoré. Having 2 pens names is tiring.
Just an add on – Daryl is my real first name. When I was trying to pick a pen name, the writer’s group I belong too said – keep your first name.

Q: Do you have a hobby?
A: I’m a belly dancer and a yoga addict. I study Raks Sharqi belly dance which is the more traditional type. A belly dancer is not a stripper and they did not dance to seduce the sultans – that’s Hollywood. Anybody can learn Rak Sharqi. It’s a fabulous activity.

Yoga – the studio where I practise has so many classes that it would probably be better if I just moved in. I love Warm Yin and Wall Yoga. I’ve tried all sorts of different classes from Hatha to Power Yoga. I love the way I feel when I leave class- open to the world, my heart is lighter, my mood is brighter. Yoga is my drug.

Q: If you could go back, is there any aspect of your novel you would change?
A: No – the book is the book. It’s done. The story is written and that is that. A person could go back and fix something to death. There will always be someone who disagrees with something in the books or wonders why they character didn’t react a certain way, but you can’t fix the book for them. What about all the people who thought the book was fine? If I were to change parts then those people might not be happy.

So I circle back to the beginning – would I change anything – no – the book is the book.

Q: Can you tell us about your upcoming books?
A: I just finished medieval fantasy that has been sitting on my hard drive for a couple of years. There are dragons and a prince and a woman with a dark secret.

Q: Is anything in your books ever based on real life experiences or purely all imagination?
A: That depends on which pen name I am using.

Daryl Devoré – purely imagination. I’ve written a few billionaire stories – sadly, I don’t know any billionaires. From my medieval fantasy romance – happily, I don’t know any dragons. But having one as a pet might be kinda cool.

Victoria Adams generally writes contemporary stories – although I’m in the middle of a time travel one. The characters in those books are composites of people I know and the places are based on locations I have lived or visited. The prep school in Dancing in Circles is based on my high school and the main character is adapted from the guy who sat in front of me in English class.

Q: Do you have any advice to give to aspiring writers?
A: Don’t get bogged down by the rules of writing. People will pontificate on the silliest things. Like – you should never use the word “as” in a book. It marks you as a weak writer. PTHTHTHTH – I say to them. If the greats authors of old used the word “as” then you can to. And no, you aren’t Jane Austin or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but at one point – neither were they.

I have a motto – Picasso wasn’t always Picasso. At one point, he was just a guy name Pablo painting weird pictures.

So, go write your book.

Q: Is there anything special that you would like to say to your readers?
A: If you read a book, pul-l-l-lease leave a review. It doesn’t have to be a 10-page review. This isn’t an English assignment. Let me give you a few examples
A – I liked the book. It was great.
B – I fell in love with the characters in this book.
C – This book grabbed me by the heartstrings.
D – I couldn’t put it down. Read it all in one night.
Or…my personal favourite
E – Daryl Devoré is the most fabulous writer ever and this is the bestest most romantic book that has ever been written and you should buy because it is so absolutely glorious.

Bio and Social Media Links –
Two writers in one. Daryl Devoré writes hot romances with sexy heroes and strong heroines. Victoria Adams is Daryl’s alter ego when she’s inspired to write sweet romances with little to no heat.

Daryl (@daryldevore) lives in an old farmhouse in Ontario, Canada, with her husband, two black cats – Licorice and Ginny-Furr Purrkins – and some house ghosts. Her daughter is grown and has flown the nest. Daryl loves to take long walks on her quiet country road or snowshoe across the back acres, and in the summer, kayak along the St. Lawrence River. She has touched a moon rock, a mammoth, and a meteorite. She’s been deep in the ocean in a submarine, flown high over Niagara Falls in a helicopter, and used the ladies room in a royal palace. Life’s an adventure and Daryl’s having fun living it.

Blog – Romance – Sweet to Heat
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Book Bub

Heather Boyd: An Earl of Her Own

An Earl Of Her Own

Saints and Sinners series (Book 3)

By Heather Boyd

Heather is giving away a print edition of The Duke and I and A Gentleman’s Vow during the tour. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Remember there is a chance to enter everyday so be sure to follow the Blog Tour. You may find the tour schedule and locations here https://goo.gl/qw8v5J

About An Earl Of Her Own:

Marriage is about finding that special someone you want to annoy for the rest of your life!

Rebecca Warner’s devotion to her family is the perfect distraction from the loneliness of widowhood. Not that she’d ever admit a need for someone special in her life after her husband’s betrayal. With the responsibility of arranging her sister’s wedding falling into her lap, Rebecca has no time for a certain maddening earl bent on seducing her—until he proves her most ardent ally.

For Adam Croft, Earl of Rafferty, what began as an amusing pursuit—shocking Rebecca Warner—becomes something deeper when he recognizes how perfect a wife and mother she would make. Adam’s keenly aware of his loneliness…and that his habit to curb it with drink lost him Becca’s respect. He’ll happily change his ways to win her approval, but what more can he do to win her love?

Release Date: FEBRUARY 12, 2019
Length: approx. 300 pages
Heat: steamy regency romance
Digital ISBN: 978-1-925239-51-5
Print ISBN: 978-1-925239-52-2
ASIN: B07KGLD7RB
AppleBooks ID: 1437218392

Book Links:

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KGLD7RB
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07KGLD7RB
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07KGLD7RB
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07KGLD7RB
Apple iBooks: https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/an-earl-of-her-own/id1437218392?mt=11
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/an-earl-of-her-own-heather-boyd/1129621828?ean=2940156159055
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ebook/an-earl-of-her-own-1
GooglePlay: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=0Y18DwAAQBAJ
Goodreads Page: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42106637-an-earl-of-her-own
Bookbub page: https://www.bookbub.com/books/an-earl-of-her-own-saints-and-sinners-3-by-heather-boyd-2018-12-01

~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~

Excerpt:

“You are hurt, worse than you want to say,” Rebecca Warner whispered.
Her soft green eyes were filled with real concern, something Adam had never expected to see on her face. “Well, that is disappointing.”

“Disappointing?” Rebecca immediately began searching through his hair for the wound, and he chose to imagine it a sensual caress until she spoke again. “You have a gash to your head that has bled. Dear God, you could have died.”

“Always looking on the bright side,” he murmured, and then noticed how close the lady was to his body. He inhaled slowly, delighted in this unexpectedly rare treat. Mrs. Warner had never been the friendliest sort. “You smell nice.”

“Really, Rafferty,” she chided. She suddenly slipped her hand inside his coat, rummaged in his pockets and began to dab at his head with the handkerchief she found there. “This is hardly the time to worry about my perfume.”

“As you say, I could have been killed. Seems like an appropriate time for noticing the little things in life that please me.” He felt pain and hissed. Eager for a distraction, he dropped his gaze to her shoulder—now bare of the shawl, which had fallen away unnoticed by the lady. The respectable garment Rebecca had worn to church, so stylish and modest, was less so now thanks to the accident. The struggle out of the carriage seemed to have ripped the seam apart, and her pale skin looked very soft and inviting. He curled his fingers into the skirt of her gown and held it. “Lovely.”

She drew back to peer into his eyes again, and then she glanced down at his fist. “What are you doing?”

What was he doing? Adam had no idea, but he wasn’t of a mind to stop.

Saints and Sinners series:

Book 1: The Duke and I (Nicolas and Gillian) – https://amzn.to/2Thss0C
Book 2: A Gentleman’s Vow (Gideon and Jessica) – https://amzn.to/2Tc3kso
Book 3: An Earl of Her Own (Adam and Rebecca) – https://amzn.to/2G2HCmT

~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~

About the Author:

Determined to escape the Aussie sun on a scorching camping holiday, Heather picked up a pen and notebook from a corner store and started writing her very first novel—Chills. Eight years later, she is the author of over thirty romances and publisher of several anthologies too. Addicted to all things tech (never again will Heather write a novel longhand) and fascinated by English society of the early 1800’s, Heather spends her days getting her characters in and out of trouble and into bed together (if they make it that far). She lives on the edge of beautiful Lake Macquarie, Australia with her trio of mischievous rogues (husband and two sons) along with one rescued cat whose only interest in her career is that it provides him with food on demand. You can find details of Heather’s work at www.heather-boyd.com

Heather Boyd’s Social Links:

Website – https://heather-boyd.com
Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/iheatherboyd/
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/HeatherBoydRomanceAuthor
Twitter – http://twitter.com/Heather_Boyd

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Reverse Harem: Duty Bound

Duty Bound

New Release – Duty Bound, Contemporary Reverse Harem Romances! #reverseharem #whychoose
Featuring stories from Felicity Brandon, Katie Douglas, Lily Harlem and Lucy Felthouse.
Buy now or read free in KU (universal link): http://mybook.to/dutybound

Blurb:
When their uniforms come off…

Bossy, dedicated, overprotective, super complicated. A woman needs a man like that in her life like she needs a temporal lobe headache, right? Think again, because when the uniforms come off and the temperature skyrockets, it’s time to forget Hell and take a trip straight to Heaven.

How about multiplying that by three, four, or more? You get the picture?

This set of panty-melting reverse harem stories will have you gasping, panting, squirming and sweating. Read late into the night with these steamy tales featuring priests, military men, S.W.A.T. officers, gardeners, waiters, and more.

For a limited time only, grab your own harem of hot men who are determined to be the best of the best, especially when it comes to adoring their woman.
Buy now or read free in KU (universal link): http://mybook.to/dutybound

*****

Chasing the Chambermaid

Excerpt from Chasing the Chambermaid by Lucy Felthouse:
Prologue
Only the slop, slop, slopping sound of her painfully slow footsteps through the thick, sucking mud convinced Connie White she was actually making any progress. Her limbs and extremities had long since gone so numb that she couldn’t be sure otherwise.

Come on, Con, just a little bit further. That sign said something about an estate, and an estate means buildings. A bloody cowshed will do—anything for some respite from this infernal sodding weather.

She pushed on for several more minutes, then gasped with shock and relief when her next step met not with sloppy mud or waterlogged grass, but a track. A rough track, but a track nonetheless. And it had to lead somewhere, surely? It ran left to right across the line she’d been taking, so Connie had to make a decision. Which way would lead her to… something? She was already soaked to the skin and freezing cold, so a couple of seconds of rumination wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference to her physical state. She really didn’t want to end up going in the wrong direction and heading further away from any semblance of civilisation.

She took a breath and remembered her gran’s—long since dead, bless her—nonsensical motto—or one of them, anyway: If in doubt, turn left.

Connie shrugged, and another of her gran’s daft phrases flitted into her brain. In for a penny, in for a pound.

She hiked her backpack higher, hunched her shoulders against the relentless wind and rain, and turned left. Moments later, she was rewarded as the hulking shape of a building appeared from the sheets of wind-buffeted rain. Excitement gave her a burst of energy, spurring her on. Fifty feet. Forty. Twenty-five. God, what was this place? It looked so old and decrepit the Vikings could have left it behind. Doesn’t matter. If it provides even a modicum of shelter, it’s an improvement on where you slept last night. The wooden bench on the tiny village’s green hadn’t exactly been the warmest or most comfortable place to lay her head. And she shuddered to think about what would have happened if someone unsavoury had happened across her, alone and vulnerable. She’d been very glad to wake up and hurriedly continue on her journey that morning.

The last few feet went by in a blur of motion, her body still numb and not entirely under her control. At least the track was easier to walk on. It wasn’t particularly smooth, but at least it wasn’t trying to pull off her walking boots, like the sucking mud had been.

Finally, she burst through the building’s heavy door, only the adrenaline pumping in her veins making it possible to even shift the thing. Fuck, I’m exhausted.

The last thing she remembered was shucking off her backpack and slamming the door against the elements. Then silence.

Duty Bound Release Blitz

Buy now or read free in KU (universal link): http://mybook.to/dutybound

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

The doctor will see you now… Nicolas, the cover reveal

From Callie Carmen, Nicolas (Risking Love Book 2)

Nicolas--Callie Carmen

Carlie planned to finish at the top of her class, get a corporate job, and work her way up the ladder. She refused to risk having a life of poverty ever again. Within her plans, there was no room for a relationship. So she had sworn off men; especially the good Dr. Nicolas Antonis.

Nicolas had other plans. They included her becoming his.

As if Nicolas wasn’t a big enough distraction, Carlie had to worry about her roommate’s abusive ex-boyfriend coming for her too.

Nicolas is the second novel in the Risking Love series. The stories chart a group of friends through life and love. These steamy stories will have you laughing, crying, and have your heart racing.

Get Nicolas now for only 99 cents (Pre-Order SALE) until the release date of 3/14!! https://amzn.to/2GkldCD

I/She, Me/You #MFRWauthor

Point of view is all a matter of perspective. Are these his feet or my feet? Feet

Tummy Is this her tummy, or my tummy. Okay. No contest. I vote for MY tummy.

When I first started writing, I was told never to write for an editor in first person. Why? No one seemed to know for sure. The most I could figure out is that editors seemed to think that two main characters couldn’t be fleshed out emotionally if we only “saw” into one of their heads. I was too nervous to speak up then, but now? I say bulltwackle.

I believe that once a writer moves beyond describing how a character feels happy (sad, greedy, shrewd), she/he can then learn how one character discerns happiness (sadness, greediness, shrewdness) in another.

Happy Sad Greed

We do it all the time in real life. Rarely does a person walk up and say, “Guess what! I’m happy!!” But looking at someone’s smile, hearing laughter, seeing how they bounce on their toes, noticing the glow in their eyes—it all tells us. First person can portray that same thing.

In an informal writing class that used writing prompts, several of us struggled. After a few minutes, the teacher suggested we write the same scene in first person. It was so much easier! And more emotional, too. I was surprised. The exercise taught me that when a scene gives trouble, try writing it in first person and then switch it back to third. Just be sure to edit well! There’s nothing worse than lots of “she saids,” “he saids,” and then an “I said” thrown in.

I read a lot of books now written in first person so editors must not hate it so much anymore, huh? 😉 That’s a good thing because it means that we can choose which POV style suits us best. Choice is always a good thing.

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do: Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!

Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!

What if…? #MFRWauthor

They say life is a series of moments that together tell a story. Well, “they” don’t say that. I just made it up. But it sounds profound, doesn’t it? And profoundly right. An adjustment in any single moment will change the way the story proceeds. I met my husband as a 13-year old freshman at Kellam High in Virginia Beach. We happened to be in the same algebra I class. We happened to sit near each other, and we happened to do our homework together, along with a few others. Two years later, after he’d been away at another school, we happened to attend a Christmas concert and meet up again. And that night he asked me out for a double date, after which neither of us ever looked back.

What if? But what if I’d been assigned to another math class, we hadn’t hit it off as friends, I hadn’t gone to the Christmas concert, or arrived a few minutes later? Small moments in anyone’s life but they combined to form a unique path in my life and afforded me the kind of love I’d dreamed of as a child. Maybe I would have been just as happy without having met my hubby—maybe I’d become a doctor who saved lives, or married to a professional living in a house with a white picket fence with two-point-three children running around the yard with a black Labrador puppy. Or maybe my life wouldn’t have been happy. Maybe, fate having passed me by, settling me into another algebra class, I would have remained alone. That road not Make your world happier traveled might be fun to think about, but my philosophy rests more along the lines that we live the lives we should, and we should make every effort to be happy.

Playing a different kind of “what if…” like what if I could have anything in the world, cost notwithstanding, is more fun. I always said that if I won the lottery I’d travel, and I still think that is true—especially with enough money to be comfortable, with first class or private flights, nice hotels, and personal guides. That would be fabulous!! But only with the present love of my life along. That’s a what if I’m not prepared to mess with!

To read the next post in this week’s blog hop, go here. http://mfrw52week.blogspot.com/

Dee https://nomadauthors.com/deesknight/index.html
Only a Good Man Will Do https://nomadauthors.com/deesknight/_Books/bookOnlyGoodMan.html

Naval Maneuvers https://nomadauthors.com/deesknight/_Books/bookNavalManeuvers.html

Reading, Writing, or Living? #MFRWauthor

Right now, I’m living. Living with a computer that bit the dust over the weekend, darn it. I would have said something stronger but this is a family site. 😉

Yes, this old machine is close to ten years old. It’s served us well and we’ve gotten our money’s worth, but still, why oh why does technology have to give up the ghost? I mean, ever? Is it too much to ask that a computer never die?? I mean, really?

I loved this machine. Loved the speed, loved the screen resolution, loved the memory capacity. I loved it from its little motherboard to its raid stacks. Desktop computer From its DVD writable drive to its mic plug. I’ve lived with this machine for so many years I had to look up the date we bought it. Now its chugging away back in the office trying to recover files at the manufacturer’s settings so we can see how much stuff we’ll be able to recover. (Note to self: Have “Back up more!!” tattooed on forehead.)

In the meantime, while I’m learning to live without my computer, I’m reading! Just finished the very sexy Block Shot, which I loved, and then two Reading on Kindle by Becky Wade that were Christian books (yes, I like my reading eclectic 😉 ), True to You and Falling for You. Both made me laugh and Falling for You made me cry, too.

Speaking of crying, I’m going to go now and shed a few tears for my computer. I’ll be feeling low until the new one arrives next week. 😉 Hooray!

To read the next post in this week’s blog hop, go here.

Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

How many disasters can one wedding have? #MFRWauthor

I don’t mean to imply that my whole wedding was a disaster after disaster, but it was a little weird and strange things seemed to crop up. But what did I expect? We’d been engaged nine days—yes, nine days from when I said yes to a strange proposal to walking down the aisle.

That said, I was not one of those girls who had imagined her wedding from when she was tiny. Except I did want a Cinderella dress that reached from I was not tall enough to be Cinderella pew to pew. Since I’m five feet two inches, such a dress was not in the cards. But I did find a dress I liked okay and I got it for $75, so I was happy. I made my headpiece and bouquet from silk flowers and a yard or two of tulle, and told my bridesmaid to wear whatever she wanted. I was not Bridezilla. In fact, I didn’t care all that much about the wedding—I cared only for the groom. Is that weird? Yeah, maybe, but I watch all those brides on Say Yes to the Dress and wonder sometimes if they care more for the wedding than they do the marriage. I didn’t have Simple and demure that bridal moment when I first tried on the dress—I didn’t really care what I wore so much. It was white, it was long and demure, and it was cheap. ‘Nuff said.

The proposal was unconventional, though not really a disaster.
Me: I’m ready to get married.
Him: What are you doing next Saturday?
Me: Why?
Him: We can get married.
Me: Okay.
Was there a bended knee? No, we were driving at the time. Was there a diamond? No. I said I didn’t need one and he said, “I’m so glad you feel that way.” Is it any wonder I rushed to say yes to this man? 😉

So maybe not caring about the dress wasn’t a disaster. Having my mother say that she and Dad couldn’t travel from Wisconsin to Virginia for a wedding nine days away was. I cried. Mom cried. Dad called and said they would be there. Whew!

There was no wedding rehearsal the night before the nuptials—the only people available were hubby, his parents and me. My parents and maid of honor arrived late that night.

It rained. And when I say rain, I mean downpours. Everyone was wet coming into the chapel and I was petrified about walking down a wet aisle. (I made it.)

I cried a lot moments before the service. I begged my dad not to make me get married. His words of advice? “We drove all the way here from Wisconsin and you’re going to get married.” Truthfully, I think he believed I was pregnant. After all, why else would I rush to name a wedding date? I was not, but I always wondered if that was why he took such a strong stance.

I had told the minister and hubby that I did not want to kiss him (hubby) in Simple ceremony front of everyone. But when all was said and done, I kissed everyone except hubby—my maid of honor, the minister, the best man. Hubby said I was about to head for the organist when he turned me and took my up the aisle. Wedding rings

There were only about 70 people attending, and the reception was at my new in-laws’ house. I neglected to mention in my hurried invites that there would be no dinner, only cake and some kind of punch. A few of my friends came from Richmond and Fredericksburg and they were hungry by the time the event ended. We were married out in the sticks, and there was nowhere to eat for fifty miles once they left. I felt bad about that, but by the time I found out, there was no solution except a few cheese sandwiches.

This is probably the biggest mishap: I didn’t remember anything about the wedding. Nothing. Hubby had a good laugh telling me all about it the next day.

All that said, for a hurried wedding, the marriage has been good for over forty years. We had dated for years, but dating and married are two very different things! Fortunately, I chose well—and I’d like to say he did too. (Well, hell, I will say he did to.) We still laugh, still love, still enjoy being with each other despite the rushed beginning. And that isn’t a disaster!

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do: Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!

Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!