Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Hot Excerpt: Share a link to Hot Highland Fling

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Contemporary Romance
(This title contains adult content: language and explicit language)

Free lance writer, Ailsa Jackson is finished dating executives. She’s looking for hot sexual fantasies with a man who fits her needs... “All muscle, stamina and no commitment.” The assignment in the UK sounds perfect when she's assigned to interview an American CEO who recently inherited lands and a title in Scotland. She tosses her inhibitions aside for the first Highlander she encounters—prepared to research all the old myths about brawny men in kilts and finally answer the age old, burning question: What does a Scotsman wear beneath his kilt? 

Colin Fitzgerald represents everything Ailsa hates. He knows it's wrong to deceive her, but he can't risk Aisla discovering his true identity before he seduces her. If only he can become the lover she adores before the interview, perhaps he can convince her they're perfect for each other. He has one night to prove he's no stuffed shirt and three weeks to be everything she desires in a lusty lover. His adventurous lass is not only imaginative but willing.

Can lust turn to love in three weeks and will they be ready for more than a Hot Highland Fling when the assignment draws to an end?


“So ye don’t mind a man in a skirt, hey?”
The expression on his face turned predatory as he moved into her personal space. She felt like Little Red Riding Hood had come upon the very big, very bad Wolf, and she so wanted him to eat her. As far as she was concerned, he could have her all he wanted. The silence between them was charged with sexual tension.
“You look...ah, great.”
Ailsa’s gaze took him in again. She’d have to settle for great. Any other term would just be insufficient. Yet great almost seemed an inadequate description under the circumstances. Vocalizing her true feelings—terrific, yummy, fantastic—might be a tip off about her fascination with him and his kilt. She decided to hold it there. Anything other than great would be over the top. No sense scaring the hell out of the first man she encountered in Scotland.
She certainly couldn’t ask the question she longed to ask or lift his kilt and satisfy her curiosity.
He frowned and tilted his chin to one side, perhaps puzzled by her perusal.
She tried to explain. “Don’t get me wrong. I was surprised to see the native dress. You know...the kilt and all. Sorry, I’m babbling. I didn’t know kilts were daily attire.”
“Do ye have something against kilts, then?”
“Oh, no! Absolutely nothing. I actually have a certain proclivity for men in kilts.” The only thing she wanted against his kilt was her body. From the rising action going on under the sporran, she imagined he’d meet her sexual requirements, and then some. How well would he fill her? Her inner muscles clenched at the mental image.
His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.
“Do you, now?” Colin suppressed the smile on his lips, but it crept into his eyes.
She played with fire, boldly flirting with him. “Yes, I do.” She lifted her chin defiantly and let her smile say...“Try me.”

Friday, August 21, 2015

Karlie's Wild Ride #Kindle Preorder by Eliza March

Erotic romance readers here's an opportunity to read a full chapter of my newest release and decide if you want more...

Karlie's Wild Ride 

by Eliza March

Categories: Erotic Romance, Contemporary, Menage a Trois, Western, Cowboys
Published By: WP Sevilla
Erotic Cowboy Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M

Who says you can’t go home again?

The two gorgeous men on her doorstep look like the answer to Karlie’s sexual frustration. She has a score to settle with one, and he’s brought a peace offering in the form of a hunky friend. She knows Jonathan’s darkest secrets and, at one time, desired him anyway. Now she won’t settle. She wants it all.

Two years is a long time to be alone struggling with a ranch and a broken heart. Karlie isn't prepared to have her first love show up on her doorstep with a financial offer she can't refuse and a physical promise she hasn't forgotten. The hunky sidekick Jonathan claims is his partner is charming enough to make Karlie forget why she should turn down their offer, especially when her body sorely wants to try on both men for size. But she needs the help around the ranch and answers to questions she's kept silent in her heart for too long. 

The one woman Jonathan never could forget may not be ready to commit to anyone, but he has other plans. For now, he's willing to help her with the ranch and share her with his best friend, but he's determined to win her back and prove she needs him in her life permanently. Too bad Brad's playing the role of the charmer so well, because Karlie is responding. In order to win back her trust and the love they shared, can Jonathan admit to his troubled past and the reason he left her once before? Or this time around will Brad's charisma win out?


The colorful, fairy wing tattoo peeking above the waistband of the low-rise jeans were a new but very interesting addition.
Jonathan Westfield remembered the curve of those hips and the way her pants hugged the delectable ass he used to drool over as a youth. Now the total package fascinated him in a way he hated to admit. Discovering her here like this piqued his interest first. But when the woman bent over, his body responded to her well-rounded derriere as it always had—fast and hard. He shoved a hand in his pocket to make room for his expanding cock as it swelled inside his jeans.
Tilting the brim of his hat up to wipe the sweat off his forehead, he took the time to enjoy a better view of her hips. They swayed to the beat of the music blaring from the radio while she unloaded the truck. Below her midriff top, the skin he ached to touch glistened gold. The sweat beading on his upper lip wasn’t only from the heat of the late afternoon sun. He ran his tongue over his lips, remembering the salty flavor of her skin and the tangy taste of more. The tattoo was merely a tempting appetizer for the delectable entrée.
What would she do when she saw him?
“Now that’s a great piece of ass,” Brad Burns hissed behind Jonathan, his voice dropping into a deeper baritone.
“Hot daaamn,” Jonathan drawled out his agreement, “can’t argue with fact.”
“I’ve gotta have me some of that.”
Brad’s comment sent a spear of emotion through Jonathan. Strange, it reminded him vaguely of jealousy. The concept was ridiculous and so irrational he refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he teased his partner. “Maybe she’ll ask you to join us.”
“Or maybe she’ll take pity on you and let you watch.” Brad pounded him on the back.
Jonathan made a good-natured grunt and considered the possibility of a ménage. He’d never minded sharing a woman or two with Brad in the past, and he didn’t have any ties to Karlie except for their old teenage crush. No sense getting all possessive at this point.
This time Jonathan ignored the pressure growing in his groin, and Brad adjusted his jeans for the second time since they got out of the truck. Withstanding his discomfort, both the emotional and physical pressure riding him as his cock pressed painfully against his zipper, would keep Jonathan focused on his immediate goal…getting into Karlie Whitman’s panties again.
She appeared slight and delicate, but Karlie was rounded and generous in all the right places. And strong… She hefted a large coil of wire out of the pickup, and Jonathan realized beneath that slender frame, the woman was fit. Something must have clued her to her audience. She stilled, glanced over her shoulder, and then gave both of them the once-over with a slow, sexy smile. Interest immediately captured her expression, but Jonathan realized she hadn’t recognized him, yet. Well, he could hardly blame her. He’d muscled up in the eight years since they’d last been together.
“Are you two gonna just stare all day, or do you think one of you gentlemen could give me a hand here?”
By the time Jonathan recovered from the heated look she gave him and the husky timbre of her voice, Brad had already jumped in front of him. “Oh, sorry.” He moved quickly to take the bundle from her and said, “We’d pleased to help.”
Jonathan had been too lost in her eyes to move, but managed a low growl. “Suck-up,” he mumbled beneath his breath. Then glancing into her truck bed, he saw his opportunity to redeem himself. He gathered up the rest of the supplies and asked, “Where do you want these?”
“Over by the shed will be just fine. Thanks.”
She brushed at her thighs, inhaled a deep breath, and took off her work gloves. After Brad dropped the wire inside the shed, she extended her hand to him…all business. “Karlie Whitman.”
He straightened, wiped his hands on his jeans, and returned her greeting with his hand outstretched. “We know.”
She tilted her head, sizing him up with a question on her face. “Do I know you?”
“Naw, the tall, lanky guy at the general store told us you had a couple of rooms to let.” He shook her hand and tipped his hat.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Brad Burns, and my friend here is Jonathan Westfield.” Jonathan let Brad talk. “We have references.”
Jonathan joined him, but before he shook her hand, he pulled off his sunglasses. After his focused gaze moved from her eyes to her mouth, he considered how perfect it was for kissing and a half a dozen other activities, and then his eyes skimmed her body. He amended his first thought from how perfect her lips were to how perfect the whole woman was.
“Jonathan Westfield?” A frown wrinkled her brow as recognition settled in. “My Jonathan?”
He allowed her to appraise him, then he gave her his own slow once-over. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Whitman.” He held her hand in his a moment too long, but he couldn’t resist the contact. Ms. Whitman? He wondered why someone hadn’t snatched her up before now.
Finally, she tugged her hand out of his and color tinged her cheeks. He let her hand go, not realizing he’d still been holding it. Either the heat had gotten to him, too, or she had. He hoped she felt half of what he was feeling.
Ms. Whitman?” She snorted. “Karlie, will do.” She gave as good as she got and did the “head to toe and up again” evaluation right back. “I see you’ve grown into your height, and it’s good to see you haven’t killed yourself, yet.” Her hands went to her hips. “Still with the rodeo?”
“No, I went into business for myself a few years back. Glad to see you survived the big city and came home.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.” Karlie smiled a wry grin and the light in her eyed dimmed. “It’s good to be back, but,” she sighed, “this place can wear a body out.”
“You working this ranch alone?” He remembered the dude in town mentioned something about her boyfriend getting killed a few years back. Jonathan would have liked to dredge up feelings of remorse about the man, except he couldn’t get past the fact the guy’s death left this woman available for him. What kind of jerk did that make him?
“Yup, with a little help from the neighboring teens.” Her expression turned blank and she peered down the road. He followed her glance and then realized she was asking him something.
“What brings you two out here?”
Brad answered for Jonathan, “We’re with the movie crew from town, here to handle the set and the stunt arrangements.”
“Stuntmen?” she asked with an “I should-uv-known” lift of her chin. Jonathan didn’t miss how her eyes glazed over and her former friendly expression turned to one of distant interest. “I thought you were all staying at the Double-K.”
“The rest of the crew is.” Jonathan ran his fingers through his hair and a forearm across his forehead. Damn, it was hot out here, and she wasn’t making things any better. “Your place is closer.”
When he’d spoken, even he could hear the husky need infiltrate his few simple words. His voice sounded rough and aroused as he tried to appear politely civil. Both were areas of expertise where he usually fell short anyway.
“Closer to what?”
“The park. Brad and I need to set up the daily stunts and work them out ahead of time. We don’t have time to drive out there from the ranch every day.” He glanced at her two-story country home and tilted his head in its direction. “Your place is more convenient for our needs. We’ll pay twice the going rate.”
“That’s not necessary.” She cleared her throat and added, “The going rate will be fine.” Jonathan liked how she seemed rattled, but she recovered quickly enough. “Welcome. Great to have you. You’re the only guests, so you’ll have free reign.”
“Sounds perfect.” Brad grinned, applying his usual expert charm.
“Breakfast is early, five a.m., and then I usually work in my studio until noon.” She started toward the house then paused to look over her shoulder. “I hope you won’t mind being on your own in the morning.”
“Nah, no problem,” Brad said. “We’ll be heading out early, too.”
“Then it’s a deal,” she said, and the tension in Jonathon’s gut relaxed.
Before acknowledging Jonathan, she glanced at Brad and turned her smile on him. Jealousy tightened Jonathan’s jaw until she included him next, and then, with a hand on one hip and her head cocked to the side, her grin sent his libido into overdrive. For the first time since they’d set eyes on each other, today, Karlie relaxed and on a more casual attitude.
“Studio?” His curiosity fired up. He followed her gaze toward the building next to the house. A strange feeling gripped his heart. They’d made out for the first time behind that old building then things between them had escalated over the next few years. He didn’t want to go back down memory lane. “Out there? You still sculpting and painting?”
Karlie turned away from the old building and looked back just as Jonathan’s gaze fixed on hers. When their eyes met, she saw the memories churning behind the light in his eyes. All the old emotions were there, too—passion, heat, lust—all present and accounted for.
“Yes, I’m still an artist. When I inherited this place from my grandfather it gave me the freedom to pursue my dreams.”
She studied the place, seeing it from their perspective. The fence needed repairs, the shed needed painting, and the barn needed fixing up. Well, just about everything needed something…but to what purpose? She jerked her head toward the corral.
“This hasn’t been a working ranch in a very long time. I pay the bills by selling my art, not running horses.”
What emotions should a woman experience when her first lover strolled up unannounced after leaving her without a word eight years earlier? She should have been surprised, angry, hurt, vindictive. She could take time to feel all of those emotions, later. But the one she felt now was relief—relief that he was alive and standing here in front of her, sexy and dangerous as ever.
Instead, there was a surprised look on both men’s faces. Karlie explained, “Art, a ranch, and renting rooms, every now and again, aren’t mutually exclusive. When it comes to paying the bills, every little bit helps.”
 “The place has potential,” he said.
Karlie hadn’t missed Jonathan’s renewed interest in her, but when she watched him inspect the corral, the out buildings, his usual hard expression softened to one of longing. She wasn’t sure if he included her with the rest of the place, but when his gaze swept over her like warm honey, her insides did a little flip.
“You know much about ranching?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.
“Some. I worked a ranch in Wyoming for a while after I left the rodeo circuit.”
“That’s right. Rodeos. Girls in every town just waiting to ride the dangerous cowboys?”
He chuckled and brushed off her sarcasm. “I don’t do dangerous anymore.”
She knew better, just from looking at him. “Sure you do,” she thought and bit her tongue then said, “Neither do I.”
Danger swirled in his eyes, oozed from his soul. She knew just how dangerous he still was the minute he gave her that crooked grin. The promising look said she’d find out exactly what he was capable of, and she was sure he meant more than his words let on.
Although Brad made it plain he found her desirable, Karlie suspected he’d yield to Jonathan’s alpha male position if it came down to choices. His assessment of her as a woman showed interest but seemed more casual than Jonathan’s intense fascination with her. Brad made her think of slow, sensual sex, while Jonathan made her want to strip down, climb his body, and ride him like a wild mustang. Both men appealed to her needs differently, Brad for the comfort and Jonathan for the wild, dangerous action, the tingling adrenaline rush.
Didn’t she just say she didn’t do dangerous? What the hell was wrong with her?
She should stay focused on Brad to keep the heated desire building in her central core for Jonathan from erupting. But Jonathan’s pale blue eyes kept drawing her in just as they once had. They still looked perfect set against his dark features and bronzed skin. Her attention shifted to his square jaw and broad shoulders. Delicious. And so were all points south. She slammed her eyes shut and lifted her head so when she opened them her focus would stay above his waist.
He’d always been tall, probably at least a foot taller than she, even without the boots. The man was built like she preferred her men, tall but not rangy. Every inch of Jonathan’s well-defined muscles looked lean, yet thick and hard. She weakened and allowed herself to imagine him naked while she ran her hands over his washboard abs.
Now that he’d grown up and fully developed, he’d be perfect to sculpt, even better to mold out of clay. Her gaze drifted back down.
His jeans hugged his narrow hips like a second skin, so it was hard not to notice the lighter worn area over the generous bulge. She licked her dry lips.
I wonder if he’d mind posing.
She swiped at the hair coming loose from her braid to hide her inspection of Jonathan’s more intimate areas. When he caught her looking, he made no attempt to conceal his erection. In fact, he stared her down, almost defying her to ignore the impressive swell in his pants. Heat flooded her face right before her internal thermometer peaked, and she finally gave in.
Lowering her eyes to the ground this time, she said, “Come on in. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”
Oh, man, she could really use a quick tumble in the sheets with a fine specimen like him, or Brad for that matter. In her opinion, he was conventionally better looking than Jonathan and in a less intimidating sort of way, however, it was the old edge she sensed in Jonathan that excited her. Damn, she thought she’d learned her lesson, years ago, and here she was aching for the perilous high she knew he’d provide.
Shaking off her interest, and making an effort to ignore him, she settled her attention on Brad. His blond hair and dark tan enhanced his movie star smile. Something about him seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him.
“You look—”
“I sure could go for something cold to drink.” Brad moved in to take the spot by her side and pushed a stray hair away from her face. She risked a quick glance at Jonathan and noted his pale eyes narrow and darken. The effect sent heated chills through her, and she lost her train of thought. When the heat in her cheeks intensified, Brad’s eyes widened. “You look like you could, too.”
“Use a cold drink.” Brad chuckled.
“Oh, yeah, right. I guess I could.”
Not quite as tall as Jonathan, but just as muscular and toned, Brad was the charmer. She looked from one great-looking guy to the other. Two years was a long time to be without a man.
And suddenly two appear. One for each year of abstinence. The concept made the lonely years seem worthwhile, but her insides boiled with the thought.
“I made fresh iced tea earlier, and if you’re hungry, there’s barbecue chicken in the fridge.”
“Mmm, sounds perfect,” Brad said and walked up the porch steps beside her.
Karlie glanced back and noticed the frown on Jonathan’s face turn into a storm cloud as he pulled up the rear. Perhaps it was because Brad’s husky voice implied his interest wasn’t solely in the chicken.
Sex. Maybe a ménage.
She’d heard Jonathan’s track record with keeping women wasn’t good. Nothing permanent. Unfortunately, she knew about him firsthand. Since neither man seemed like the sticking around kind, there wasn't much chance she’d have time to get attached. Besides, there was no way she’d even consider attaching herself to a man who ran sets and stunts for a production company. A man like him was too much like the last man in her life. She didn’t need someone always on the move, picking up women ready for an easy tumble at night and a quick adios in the light of day. Nope. No more.
Brad held the door and groaned when her body brushed his on the way in. “This is nice.”
She didn’t know if he meant the slide of their bodies against each other or the room, but the timbre of his voice reverberated through her. She found herself responding to both men when she thought she’d never want another after David died.
Could she consider sex with two men? The thought crossed her mind once or twice in the past, but suddenly her insides turned to molten lava, her stomach flipped, and hot liquid drenched her panties.
Okay, yes. She could consider it.
These two certainly showed potential. She’d be willing to relieve the sexual tension building inside her with either one or both of them. One thing she was sure about was that she might be willing to share her body with either of these men.
Maybe even both of them.
What the hell, her body was one thing she didn’t mind sharing, but she’d never again give her trust to a man who planned to move on or needed to live on the edge of danger. Not her heart or her life. No more waiting for the phone calls, no more sleepless nights worrying about whose bed he was in or if he’d find his way back to hers.

Sex had been David’s opiate of choice. Danger had been his true mistress, and finally, his executioner. Bull riding had only been death’s instrument.
Karlie wanted to count more to the next man she gave her heart to than the adrenaline jolt he craved from his job. 

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Facing The Darkness - #Excerpt DEFEAT THE DARKNESS by Eliza March

If you just started reading my blog,  you should probably know my muse abandoned me when I went through some personal medical issues. I began writing this story weekly to give myself the kick in the butt I needed to keep it moving forward. The story (originally intended to be a short story) grew, became more intricate, and expanded into a full length novel, then another and another... Warning: This is the first book  in the Hearts in Darkness Trilogy, which,  believe it or not, is now completed. Other books are now in the formulation process. 
This story is about to heat up. You go ahead and read this chapter. After the pain, will come the pleasure.

When Shelby opened her eyes, the room was dark and the bed was comfortable. She glanced around and realized she could see details as if every light in the room were ablaze. She was hot, but there was no fire in the fireplace—no windows to let light in. A comfortable, genuine looking Queen Anne’s chair stood beside the bed. The rest of the furniture, an armoire, dresser, and night table, seemed to match the period. There appeared to be nothing else in the room except the modern day, king-sized bed where she lay.
Where was she and how did she get here?
The last thing she remembered was talking to Kyle before she suddenly began to shiver and sweat. Nausea and excruciating pain soon followed. Finally, it eased, and then she passed out.
The hair falling over her forehead bothered her. She tried to brush it away, but her arms felt too heavy to lift.
Drowsy and confused, she was able to hear Kyle’s voice and it registered he was speaking with someone in the next room. The other man’s voice wasn’t familiar. His dialect was American, but when she listened more attentively, she caught a slight Scottish burr in a word or two.
Suddenly, as if he sensed her listening, he stopped speaking, and as soon as she struggled to sit up, she heard him say, “Ack, Kyle. Yer Shelby’s awake.”
What the heck? From her prone position on the bed, she checked the room for cameras. Seeing none, she was still busy wondering how the Scot knew she was awake when Kyle called her name.
“Shelby?” he said, “I’ll be right there.”
More male mumbling followed. Max’s and another familiar voice with a soft Spanish accent she knew to be Victor Salazar’s. Max argued with another man. The deep, gruff voice made all the fine hair on her back stand on end. She felt the urge to stand and fight or claw her way from the house.
Weird reaction.
Panic she’d never experienced filled her with dread even though her rational mind dismissed it.
The Scotsman said, “Hurry. She’s reacting to Garr.”
Me? No, I’m just freaking out for no apparent reason.
Kyle appeared at the side of the bed as if out of nowhere and gripped her shoulders to still her. With a strength she didn’t remember him having, he lifted her off the bed. Cradling her in his arms like a baby, he sat back down and calmed her with a gentle, soothing voice.
“Shh, relax. Everything will be all right.” He reached for a glass from the nightstand beside the bed. “Here, drink this.”
She took a sip and choked. “Yuck. This is terrible.”
Kyle stood his ground. “Drink it. All of it. Victor says it will help ease your symptoms.”
“What symptoms?” When she woke up without any memories of how she got here, she figured that was what Kyle meant. “Do you mean what happened in the car?”
“Yeah that and other symptoms you’re about to experience. Drink up. Victor made the concoction just for you.”
“The stuff tastes like old, dirty socks and cut grass.”
Kyle slanted his head and asked, “And you know that because…?”
He at least made her smile on the inside. “Okay, never mind. I stand corrected.” She was too tired to argue. “It’s what I would expect that combination to taste like.”
Scrunching her nose, she held her breath and quickly downed the rest like a shot of Sex-On-The-Beach. Swallowing the potion did soothe her parched throat and immediately eased her stomach cramps.
When she handed him the empty glass, Kyle still looked tense as he placed it on the night table.
“What will I begin to experience?” she asked, watching him for a reaction.
“Let’s go into the den so we can talk,” he said.
That didn’t sound like it was going to be good news, but his blank face gave nothing away. Usually she was good at reading Kyle’s moods, but no more.
He helped her stand, allowing her a moment to get her balance. His touch triggered every sense in her body to a fevered pitch. The immediate sensation was like touching an open circuit. She had to shake his hands off to regain her composure.
His expression looked pained when he moved away from her, giving her space. He edged closer to the door. “Victor is here already.”
“What about Max?
“Yeah. He took some blood samples to the lab Victor set up in the cottage. He should be here any minute. Come on. I want you to meet our host. We’ll stay here while you recuperate and hope the authorities track down Amyra soon.”
“Is our host the one with the Scottish brogue?”
“Brogue? Yeah, come to think of it, the old accent does pop out when he’s excited.” Kyle surprised her by laughing. “I think he’s been in this country for a long time, though.”
“Tell me how you and Dylan met,” she requested, as she tested her balance.
“You need help?” he asked.
“No. I want to try.” She wasn’t ready for any kind of physical reaction to him, yet. “Go on with your story.”
“An old friend of Victor’s put us in touch. When I returned, they arranged for me to finish recuperating from the jungle ordeal here at his place. Dylan freelances for local and state police as a consultant and, when necessary, also for the FBI.”
“That’s handy under the circumstances.” She took one tentative step, then another.
Kyle opened the door wider.
She halted mid step when she caught a strange scent in the air. “Who else is out there? I thought I heard someone else. Maybe Cajun?”
“Deep, gravelly voice?”
The sense of panic set in again. She couldn’t control the trembling in her hands or the vibrations rising from somewhere deeper inside her. She nodded at him but had to stop when the room spun. He rushed to her side and supported her before she fell. This time, the physical reaction to his touch as he caught her was a low, pleasant hum.
Heady. Warm. Nice.
Gripping her shoulders to keep her from hitting the floor, he wrapped her in his embrace. “That’s Dylan’s friend, Garr.” Kyle murmured against her ear. “He’s here to help train Dylan’s ward, Jackson. You okay?”
“Yeah. Just a little dizzy.” Shelby winced and slowly shifted her attention to the doorway. She pinched her nose. “What’s that smell? Wet dog?”
“No. But I understand why you might think that.” Kyle looked like he was holding back a grin. “You’re trembling. There’s nothing to be frightened of here. You’re safe with any one of us, including Garr. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I do. But something inside me doesn’t trust…I think I don’t trust Garr.”
Smothered by Kyle’s enticing scent, an overwhelming need for him sparked within every cell in her body. Relaxing into his familiar embrace, she was inexplicably drawn to the power of his presence. Suddenly, an exotic fragrance, emanating from both her body and his, permeated the surrounding air and blocked the other repulsive dog scent. Leaning into him, she gripped his t-shirt and buried her nose in his chest.
“God, you smell…amazing!”
She fanned her fingers over his broad chest, testing the feel of him as he nuzzled her ear.
Kyle tilted her chin up with a knuckle and stared at her mouth. He brushed a finger over her bottom lip then bent his head to take her lips with his. The kiss started out as if he was moving in slow motion, but the longer his lips lingered, the stronger the pull between them grew. He opened his mouth enough to slip his tongue across the seam of her lips and tested the entrance.
Opening to him, their tongues tangled in that old familiar dance. A sigh escaped from her as he pulled her closer, and she didn’t miss the moan of arousal Kyle released against her lips when he pressed her hips against his obvious erection.
His muscles bunched and bulged beneath her touch, and his scent caused something beneath her skin to ripple. She shivered when she felt the same ripple answer beneath his. He was holding back some kind of unleashed power in the muscles beneath her fingers.
Lost in the frenzy of her desire, she didn’t notice when Kyle took back control—not until he moved her away and held her at arm’s length.
“We shouldn’t…keep them waiting,” he said with obvious effort. He wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted her to believe.
That didn’t prevent her from being mortified by her own lack of self-control. Who was she? Back in the car, she’d played the role of damsel in distress. Here she was dropping at his feet the first time he glanced in her direction again, and she’d practically climbed his body. Her behavior was out of character. Especially when the image of him with that woman replayed repeatedly in her head.
The urge to hide her face in shame and run was so overwhelming she shuttered her expression against him, refusing to allow him to see the emotions clearly expressed there.
She wanted him, she needed him, and darn it…she loved him.
The fact that she was behaving like a cat in heat was even more mortifying under the circumstances.
What could be more humiliating?
She could still wrap herself around his body and rub all over him. That impulse almost surpassed the sudden desire she had to throw herself down on the bed and beg him to mount her. The urges were just so overwhelmingly irresistible.
The idea that it all sounded so darned appealing pissed her off even more.
…and that other scent? What is it? Trying to identify the scent plagued her like a dream she couldn’t recall—remaining a whisper beyond memory’s reach. Although, not unpleasant, they weren’t foreign or entirely unfamiliar to her, either.
And this feeling I’m experiencing…? I know what it is, but…
No, her mind was not quite ready to reveal the identity of the scent or the need to her, yet. The closest state she could compare it with was hunger.
Hunger for Kyle?
Yes. But hunger for something else, too.
“It’s blood and…”

...All rights reserved. No part of this may be copied or reproduced without the written permission of the author. Copyright 2012, Eliza March

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Humorous Sci-fi Available August 5th from The Wild Rose Press

Hearts Akilter

  Published by: The Wild Rose Press

COMING SOON 08/05/2015
Please Choose: Download

ISBN Digital: 9781509202560
Page Count: 91
Word Count: 20705

When a medical robot insists he's having a heart attack, Marlee Evans, a pragmatic maintenance technician, has every reason to panic. There's a bomb inside him.  Since Marlee can't risk the bomber discovering she's found the device, her only option is to kidnap Deacon Black, an unflappable bomb expert, and secretly convince him to disarm it.  Things go slightly awry when Deacon sets a trap for someone who is trying to kill him, and  inadvertently, captures Marlee instead.  Instantly intrigued by her refreshingly forthright and gutsy attitude, he's smitten.  Unfortunately for Deacon, Marlee recently hardened her heart and swore off men, especially handsome ones with boy-next-door grins.  But as Marlee and Deacon attempt to identify and prevent the bomber from detonating the device, they discover that love may be the most explosive force of all. 
The bomb. Right. Dismantle the bomb. In this lift? No, that was insane. “Marlene, if the bomb goes off accidentally—”
“It’ll blow the station to kingdom come?”
He nodded.
“Not to worry.”
She said that with such nonchalance that he found himself speechless. He cleared his throat. “Why not? Did you snatch the portable Bomb Disposal Unit, too?”
“What’s better than a BDU?”
“Garbage incinerators.”
“What?” He glanced out into the darkness beyond the lift. Giant machinery stood silhouetted and veiled in shadows. “Where are we?”
“Deck forty-three, Ring D zero three. Relax. Don’t panic. They once accidentally incinerated a torpedo in number four, over yonder.” She pointed to the left. “Nobody heard or felt it explode, and there wasn’t even a drail’s worth of damage done to the incinerator, or anything else.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It happened three years ago. I was there, a deck above. Never mind.”
Henry manipulated his finger appendage, grabbing and briefly tugging the shirt sleeve of Deacon’s good arm. “Marlee would never lie about anything so important.”
“Does she lie about unimportant things?” He instantly regretted his caustic remark.
“I do not know.” Henry spun sideways, facing Marlee. “Do you lie about unimportant things, Marlee?”
“I have been known to tell a white lie now and then to spare someone’s feelings, but on the whole—” She looked away from Henry.
As her blacker than black eyes met his gaze, Deacon felt pinned to the wall.
With clarity, she said, “I am an honest person.”
The robot put the ends of his appendages together, as if they were hands meshed together for prayer. “Marlee, have you been honest with me?”
She looked at the robot, and her voice gentled. “Yes, Henry, I always have been honest with you as you have been with me.”

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

For #Writers: I don't usually rant...but I am doing so today! Insecure Writers Support Group

MONETIZING is the word of the day. Everywhere I look, everyone I see, everyone I talk to is utilizing that concept. Is it causing our brains to tune out the commercialization tactics bombarding our lives at every moment? No. I feel like we'll be speaking in commercials soon, if we aren't already.

I remember a time when television was free but for the price of watching the commercials. Now I pay for cable and have to watch the commercials, any way, and don't get me started on the internet. Every page contains commercial material and after I stop the pop ups, I find advertising embedded in the web page.
This blog is no different. Well, somewhat... I 'm not taking money for any of this advertising. It's all about my books.

I want to reach a bigger audience because I believe what I write is entertainment at a reasonable price. If I charge less than $2.99 for a book on Amazon Kindle I only make 30% if I charge $2.99 I make 70% It isn't price fixing but it sure is price controlling. Even when you consider authors are out there giving away their work as a form of advertising, with so many free books available, who's willing to pay for a first time author experience? I think about how hard it is to hook a reader these days and wonder what it takes to develop a loyal reader base. Any ideas?

There was a time when workers banded together to demand better working conditions, hours, and wages...but today unions have a bad name. Professional organizations should have some answers. Upper echelon authors' sales have to be impacted by the ridiculous numbers of books being pumped into the market daily and yet authors, like lemmings, keep jumping off the cliff. Taking that leap of faith...this book could be the one!

 How do you decide what professional organizations are right for you? The first group I joined wasn't what I needed but they were great for making me think I was taking myself seriously...the beginning of my quest.

I'm a member of (Tampa Area Romance Authors) the local chapter of  RWA (Romance Writers of America), and I'm a PAN member (Professional Authors' Network) which means I've met some criteria to prove I'm attempting to work in this industry as a career. Lately, I find myself wondering about membership fees and whether they're worth what I'm paying for. The learning curve from 0-60 was worth it, but I believe the sustainability isn't meeting expectations for all their members.  And although these organizations are groups of authors who are highly supportive of one another, an unusual situation in a highly competitive industry, they can't keep up with the needs of an ever changing industry.

And another truth is...we aren't all competing for the money...but we are competing for exposure.

The dollar spent by a reader on an inspirational book isn't coming out of the erotic writer's pocket. I even recall when there weren't enough books being release in the genre I liked. As readers we have more choices (in some cases perhaps way too many) than we've ever had before. The new books pile up on top of the older books. The new books are buried beneath the next ones that release. At the release rate, it's only the most reviewed, highest rated, best selling books that you see. But if you don't have reviews before you put the book does that work?

The industry is full of reviews of a questionable nature. How do you decide whether a FREE book is worth downloading? OMG we're in trouble when we've gotten to the point where we can't be bothered. It's free and we get angry when we discover it's not up to standards with what we're used to reading.

Who can you trust for an accurate suggestion for a Blog, for a book, for advice, for an organization?