21 November 2015

SLY “BULLHORN” BRODSKY of the FIRST & TEN SERIES


 
 
TITLE –  SLY “BULLHORN” BRODSKY
SERIES –  FIRST & TEN
AUTHOR –  Jean C. Joachim
GENRE – Contemporary/Sports Romance

PUBLICATION DATE – Nov. 16, 2015
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) - 66,900 words
PUBLISHER – Moonlight Books
COVER ARTIST – Dawne Dominique
 
 
BLURB:
Sly “Bullhorn” Brodsky wished winning the heart of Samantha Drake was as easy as protecting his quarterback. A top offensive lineman in the NFL, Bull tried to live down his rep as a womanizer. Locker room chatter had elevated him to the level of “player” in more than football. But Samantha Drake, dark-haired, stunning sister of a teammate, didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Or did she?
On his best behavior, Bull pulled out all the stops to woo the reluctant beauty. He was making progress until a woman from his past reappeared. Tiffany, the one woman who broke his heart, is in trouble. Is Bull the only man who can help?
Samantha is overcoming her doubts about Bull until Tiffany arrives. Is the blonde really in hot water or does she just want another chance with the man she discarded?
Enjoy the return of your favorite First & Ten characters in this book, too. Surprises, twists, and football action scenes will keep you turning the pages. 
EXCERPT:

“I’m grubby. I need a shower,” she said, pushing to her feet to glance in the mirror.

The next image to take over his mind was stepping into a steamy shower behind Samantha. He blinked a few times and took a deep breath, hoping his thoughts wouldn’t inspire an erection.

“You okay? Were the boxes too much?” Her dark, chocolate brown eyes held concern.

He laughed. “You kiddin’? That’s nothin’. I take down guys ten times that weight in every game. Geez. What do you think? I’m a pussy or something?”

She made a face.

“Sorry. I need to clean up my words.” He sensed color in his face. He’d never had a girlfriend like Samantha Drake. She was smart, beautiful, and nice. She did volunteer work at the New Life Shelter for battered women and kids. But she wasn’t his girlfriend, only a friend. With no benefits. He sighed.

“My brother, Devon, talks like that too. You’d think football players never went to college.” She handed him a cold bottle of water.

He downed the liquid. “What’s next?”

She turned around in the room and sucked her lower lip between her teeth. “Bed, books, clothes, rocking chair. Hmm. How many boxes are still in the car?”

“Two.”

“Then that’s it. The place looks pretty empty.” She perched on the mattress, tucking her feet under her.

“You’ll have it furnished before you know it. Come on. I’m gonna bring those boxes up then take you out to dinner.”

“Thanks. Be right back.” Her thousand-watt smile turned his innards to jelly.

He sat in the rocking chair while Samantha washed the dirt off her luscious body. Or what he assumed was luscious. Sylvester “Bullhorn” Brodsky, known to his teammates as “Bull,” had the hots for Samantha Drake, and it was keeping him up nights. While he waited for her to want him back, his imagination ran through a half dozen things he’d like to do to her under the warming spray of hot water. She was a little slip of a thing, and he was huge. Six foot three inches tall and two hundred fifty pounds of pure muscle, the offensive lineman could lift her up with one hand.
SHORT SNIPPETS:

1. Denial of their physical attraction crumbled in the dead of the night, when truth can’t be easily sidestepped. She’d noticed him the first time he’d passed in the hallway. Then the second time, when on a search for her brother, she’d spied Sly draped in nothing but a towel in the locker room. Embarrassment had filled her cheeks as she’d scurried outside to wait for Devon. The lineman had simply laughed, showing no modesty at all.

            Sly Brodsky. Bull. Did she want him? Sam smiled to herself. Of course, she did. But she wasn’t about to tell anyone, especially him. She could barely admit it to herself. He appeared content to wait, which was fine with her. She enjoyed being in control. Still, to be honest, she wouldn’t make him wait forever. Only as long as she could stand to back away, even when she longed to lose herself in his arms and let him take her home.
2. Bull shifted his weight. Blood rushed to his face, and his palms
sweated. “This friend thing is great. But I’m interested in more than that. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“Maybe. Don’t you have a girlfriend?” She tilted her head back to make eye contact.
“Nope. I haven’t dated anyone more than a couple of times in a long time.”

“Huh? I’m surprised. Thought football players had women crawling all over them.”

“Not the kind of women I want. I’m looking for a real woman, not a hook-up.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And what’s a ‘real woman’ like?”

“One-of-a-kind, like you.” 

LINKS:

AMAZON     AMAZON U.K.   

 

18 November 2015

Author Spotlight on M. S. Spencer

Triptych, by M. S. Spencer
 
Three women, three men, three spirits guarding a dangerous river. Legend, history and romance intertwine in a triptych of suspense.
Ebook 67,300 words; Print 213 pp.

Romantic suspense/Adventure
M/F, 2 flames
 
 
 
 
 
 
Miranda, Honor, and Sybil Cabot live in a Queen-Anne style mansion overlooking the Potomac River. The mighty Potomac, the fourth largest river on the east coast, runs 383 miles from Fairfax Stone, WV to Point Lookout, MD where it flows into the Chesapeake Bay, the “Mother of Waters.”

When she has time, Miranda, the heroine, likes to take the gravel path down the hill to the river. The stone on which she sits and dreams of past love and future love, looms large in this story, but in this excerpt, it is the path itself that serves as a love nest.

Blurb:
Take lost masterpieces, brilliant inventors, and stolen prototypes. Add the Three Sisters, Indian spirits who guard the Potomac River. Stir in three sisters and their lovers. Result? Jealousy, sex, genius, larceny and love. Who will end up with whom, and will the Three Sisters take another life as the legend demands?

Triptych is available in both eBook and Print-on-Demand.
Buy Links:
 
Explicit sex in this Excerpt (R): Sex on Stones
They sat down on the narrow gravel path, hip to hip. His arm snaked around her shoulder. She let him. Together they gazed out over the water toward the cliffs that rose opposite them on the District side. Several modest bungalows perched on top. She had once explored the tiny cul-de-sac there, where half a dozen families had lived for generations. The cheerful little village of parents and grandparents and toddlers and dogs and cats stood in marked contrast to this side of the river where only two houses—Dieter’s and the Cabots’—sat on almost ten acres of woods. She woke from her daydream to feel Luc nibbling her neck.

She turned her head and found his lips in the way. The kiss started softly, then hardened and turned hungry. Luc whispered, “Miranda, I want you. Now.” His hands wandered over her shoulders and down to her breasts, breasts that still heaved from her run and her fright. He cupped one, leaned down, unbuttoned her blouse with his teeth and kissed the soft bulge just above the bra. She rose to meet him, pressing the nipple between his lips. He held on, suckling, as he gently laid her down. She ignored the sharp prick of a stone, took her other breast out of its nest and held it for him. He shot a quick look at her from under the black brows and took her offering in his mouth.

She lay, reveling in the tingling, pulling sensation. Sparks trailed down from her nipples to her belly and her vulva. She could feel it begin to pulse, opening and closing in anticipation. Luc lay full on top of her, grinding her suffering buttocks into the gravel. She didn’t mind. His hand took hold of the hem of her skirt and lifted it to her waist. His head darted out of sight and she felt his lips pull her lace panties down. Dreamily she thanked her personal cupid for making her choose the sheer black lace bikini tied with a sensual red ribbon today. Luc mumbled something. “What did you say?”

“Do you always wear such sexy underthings? I won’t be able to think of anything but this bit of black lace whenever I see you.”

She giggled. Miranda! You’re too old to giggle. And you should stop him now before…unnnngh. Too late. She bucked against his tongue, and spread her legs wide and wantonly so he could reach the sweet spot. “Faster, harder, oh Luc!” The climax came swift and hot. She held her body off the ground, milking his tongue. “More, more,” came through gritted teeth. The sucking stopped. “Luc! Don’t stop, don’t stop, please.” She was begging but didn’t care. So close.

“No, dear Miranda. We come together.” His face appeared before her. His lips were wet and she could smell her juices on him. It sent her into paroxysms of desire. He deliberately held her shoulders down. She writhed in heat, then froze. His penis had rammed into her. She was so wet it slid all the way to the hilt. Slowly he pulled out. The walls of her vagina felt his hard rod scrape the sides, driving her to fresh heights of ecstasy. He entered her again, and slowly pulled out. Again and again. They fell into a rhythm, she rising to meet his shaft and falling away, only to wait in delirious anticipation of the next penetration. She felt her orgasm grow and opened her eyes.

“Luc, I’m coming.”
“At last, dearest.” His rhythm increased to fever pitch, in and out, urging, demanding that she meet him. Just as she arrived at the point of release, he checked in midair and let out a great sigh. A flood of warm liquid poured into her.

They lay side by side, staring up at the clouds. Miranda refused to feel guilty. It just happened. Let it go. She peeked at Luc’s face, the high cheekbones stretching the olive skin, his thick lashes nearly touching the thick brows. One black lock fell artlessly over his forehead. She felt a rush of something and hoped it wasn’t love. I don’t want to fall in love with someone I’ll soon be visiting in the slammer. There’s a name for women like that. “Luc? We mustn’t do this again.”

About the Author
Although she has lived or traveled in every continent except Antarctica and Australia (bucket list), M. S. Spencer has spent the last thirty years mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director and parent. She has two fabulous grown children, one fabulous grandchild, and currently divides her time between the Gulf coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

Contacts
Blog: http://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com 
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/msspencemance
Twitter: www.twitter.com/msspencerauthor
GoodReads:http://www.goodreads.com/msspencer
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/msspencerauthor/
About.me: http://about.me/msspencerauthor
Tsu.co : http://www.tsu.co/msspencerauthor
Linked in: www.linkedin.com/in/msspencerauthor

AUTHOR PAGES:
I Heart Book Publishing: http://www.iheartbookpublishing.com/m-s-spencer.html
  

9 November 2015

Please welcome author Melissa MacKinnon

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Melissa grew up surrounded by dragons, fearsome creatures, and damsels in distress from the wonderful world of make believe. She soon found her ideas on paper, littering her desk with hand-drawn world maps and character biographies. Study hall was used not for homework, but for writing. Although she later pursued a career in theater, the written word never left her. Melissa now leads a very full life with her husband and five children, and somehow still finds time to write in her “spare time”… usually at soccer practice in the car. She sports a Military Wife badge of honor, and is lucky enough to have her own knight in camo armor.

Melissa enjoys writing everything from sexy, sword-toting heroes to spit-out-your coffee funny romantic comedies. Her passion lies within the ancient walls of historical romance, where anything is possible. She loves creating unforgettable stories, where love knows no boundaries. Her current literary home resides with EsKape Press.
 
 
 
The Archer's Daughter:-
England, 1381
Cate Archer is a wanted woman. When her father is killed during peace negotiations with the young King Richard, Cate vows she will not rest until she sees her father’s murder avenged and his killer brought to his knees. She never imagined she would fall in love with the man sent to execute her death warrant.

Viscount Owen Grey has only one task—bring in the rebel leaders, dead or alive. His life’s duty is to the King’s Guard, and he has certain expectations to fulfill. Falling for his prisoner isn’t one of them. He understands her cause, but he cannot bring himself to risk his position and honor for an outlaw. Owen must choose between duty and his heart. The Guard is all he’s ever known. Does he stay true to his oath or find himself on the next most wanted list alongside his Cate?
 
Excerpt:-
Guards approached. 

Honest to God genuine guards, brandishing swords and gleaming armor atop enormous beasts donning the royal colors. The King’s Guard. Cate’s heart fluttered. Her chance to make an impact to her father’s cause had finally arrived. She’d briefly counted four but was sure there had to be more. Guards never traveled in less than six to a scouting party. These men, these nobles, served the King directly. One of them could have been responsible for her father’s death, making them the perfect target. If she could take to the trees, she could kill at least four. 

But she was alone, a foolish mistake on her part. She should have allowed Colin to accompany her, but the enemy hadn’t stepped foot in her forest in nearly a week. She needed him to scout for those responsible, not check rodent traps. Sliding to her stomach, Cate slithered away from the tree and into the cover of the brush. She would find a vantage point further up the road and wait to strike. 

Stowing her bow and quiver across her back, Cate scaled a tree with a full canopy, fading into its lush colors. She brushed her brow with her sleeve, wiping away the gathered beads of sweat. Moments seemed to drag on. 

There was entirely too much waiting in the murdering profession. 

Soon, horse sweat and leather tingled inside her nostrils. The guards were near. Cate whipped the bow from her shoulder and plucked an arrow from its sheath, nestling it at its rightful place against the bowstring. A heated energy flowed from deep within her, coursing through her veins to the tips of her fingers, begging her to release the tension on the string. She did not deny it. 

The arrow shot through the air, missing its intended destination by a hairsbreadth. Damn. She’d missed. 

“Arrow!” A warning was called. 

Her presence had been made known. Cate took a swift head count of her remaining arrows. Five. Perfect for taking down a deer, but unfortunate against six armed guards. A brief chill of panic threatened to take root but she pushed it aside, willing herself to be strong. She owed it to her father. She must fight. 

From the sounds echoing below, Cate believed the guards to be readying to fight, but from the sound of their confusion, they could not apprise from where she shot. The thick forest canopy was a welcome friend. 

She surveyed the area to her left. Several thick branches from a nearby tree overlapped the one she hid in. If she could get a shot off — and manage to hit someone this time — she could change locations before the men would be able to fire from below. Cate said a quick prayer, asking for the guards to be ill-equipped with weaponry, or shite shots with a bow. 

“Courage, Cate.” She turned to face her opponents. 

“There! Above!” A guard pointed in her direction, raising his bow to take aim. 

Cate redirected her aim to the right, firing at the telling guard. Time for a new plan. 

Run. 

An arrow hissed through the branches, and she lurched back, nearly unseated from her perch. Tree bark scraped her palms as she righted herself. 

“Do not harm the boy!” one guard shouted. “Hold!” 

“I am no boy!” Cate retaliated without first thinking. 

“A lass, then?” 

She silently chastised herself for her foolishness. “What else would I be, you dolt?” 

They thought her a child — a fantastic ruse with the potential of aiding in her escape. 

“Tell me then, girl, why have you attempted to end my life?” 

The men scattered to various points along the forest floor; some on foot, others on horseback. A plan was in formation, but Cate had yet to gain knowledge of it. She took a deep breath. Time to lie, Cate. Your life depends on it. 

She let out a laugh, descending from the tree. “End your life? You, sir, were merely in the way of my arrow. I would have brought down that buck if you had not scared it away with your loud traipsing through the trees. Now my family will be forced to go hungry for yet another day. So I thank you… you and your overly loud mates.” She jumped the remaining distance to the ground then dusted the tree litter from her ill-fitting boy’s hose. She rose to her full height, nearly measuring up to the man standing in front of her. 

He didn’t wear the King’s Guard uniform as the others in his party did, but donned loose riding breeches paired with well-constructed boots and a matching doublet with the finest detailing she’d ever seen. Deep greens and rich blues intermingled in various swirls and frills amongst the soft, blackened leather. Only the finest threads for the finest of men. He was the one she needed to kill. 

And she’d missed.

Buy Links:-




.
 
Melissa is offering a giveaway to one lucky commenter. 
 
Return To Me:-
*** A historical Romance with strong Fantasy elements.***
Excerpt:-

The only thing worse than loving the enemy is trying to live without him.
Archaean bounty hunter Marek Coinnich isn’t particularly fond of Engels. In fact, he prefers them dead. But to save his injured brother, he must enter the manor of an Engel enemy. Marek finds himself enthralled by the slave girl nursing his brother back to health. When his enchantment with her lands them in a compromising position, he refuses to let the young beauty pay for the misunderstanding with her life.

Brynn of Galhaven prefers to keep to the shadows. When she is ruined by an outsider, she barely escapes with her life and finds herself left alone in an unforgiving land. Through her struggles to survive, Brynn discovers a world she never imagined and never forgets the enemy Archaean who stole her heart.
Marek can’t deny his desire for Brynn, but these are wartimes, and she is the enemy. And though love knows no prejudice, the world in which he lives isn’t nearly as forgiving.
 

5 November 2015

Please welcome Lynn Spangler

Welcome to Lynn Spangler

About the Author: I live in South Central Pennsylvania with my husband and daughter. My son serves his country in the US Navy.

My parents instilled a love of reading into my brother and me at an early age. I’ve been known to have my nose buried in a novel. 

 When not writing, I’m watching television. Most likely sports or shows like American Pickers, Wheeler Dealers, Rizzoli and Isles, or Major Crimes.
 

Find me at:
Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/LynnSpangler
 

Dayna’s Miracles By  Lynn Spangler
Blurb:
She had loved. And she had lost.

Dayna Stone had lost her husband eight years earlier when their daughter, Khloe, was only four months old. She had survived the devastating loss of her husband, only to find out she’d likely lose her daughter as well to cancer.

Eddie Kringle is captivated by his beautiful neighbor and her equally beautiful daughter. Born a Magi, Eddie has issues coming to grips that Magi magic cannot cure the child, though his father, Kris, is more than capable. He and Dayna lean on each other as the days pass.

They grow closer and a bond is formed.
A tragedy befalls them on Thanksgiving. Can their love, and the intense love they feel for Khloe, be the miracle they are looking for?

Excerpt:
     Grabbing his wallet and keys off the countertop, he exited his domicile and bounded down the stairs. By the time he reached the bottom, a sheen of sweat beaded his brow. His T--‐‑shirt clung to his back. Breathing underwater would probably be easier than sucking in the damp air.
     The choice of cargo shorts and his favorite flip--‐‑flops would make excellent attire for a visit to the North Pole. Not. Like he’d wear cold weather clothes on a day hot enough to melt asphalt.
     Eddie stepped into the side alley next to the apartment complex. He turned his head, which became insubstantial, light as air. His body followed, becoming a mist, blending with the moisture in the air, invisible to the naked eye.
     The trip to the pole took minutes. He coalesced, twisting and spinning as his body whorled into his human form seconds before he landed at his parents’ doorstep. The blood thundered through him, his heart pounding as it did when he transformed.

Snow covered his feet, slipping between his soles and his flip--‐‑flops. Not feeling fond of the sensation, he entered the home, closing the door with a solid thud. He slid the soggy footwear off and wiped his feet on the mat. A sigh passed his lips when he 
stepped onto the heated floor.
     “Wow. Two visits in one month. What did we do to deserve this?” said a sarcastic voice from behind Eddie.
     He turned and glared at Barry the elf. Eddie nearly had two solid feet on Barry so he crowded the elf and loomed over him. To his credit, Barry stood toe--‐‑to--‐‑toe with him, staring directly into his eyes, not giving an inch. To irritate the little person, he ruffled Barry’s curling black hair, much like he’d do to a four--‐‑year--‐‑old.
Barry slapped his hand away. “Knock it off.”
     “What are you gonna do? Kick me in the shin?” 
     Eddie yelped when Barry did just that. Unlike the stories one hears at Christmas, elves don’t wear slipper--‐‑like shoes that curl at the end. They wear steel--‐‑toed work boots.
     Eddie hopped on one leg while holding his sore shin. “You little jerk. I was joking.”
     Barry’s laughter reverberated around the foyer. He spun on his heel, murmuring, “I wasn’t.”
 
Buy Link: Amazon: