Thursday, July 24, 2014

Cover Reveal! Campus Cravings


Now that I have your attention! Yes, this is my first anthology, and yes, this is my first strictly m/m story. Oh, I've dabbled - Illegal Moves, By Mutual Desire, and I loooove to read m/m, so why not, right?

Welcome to Cathia University, where school is in session! Nine of today's hottest gay romance authors have crafted brand-new interrelated novellas celebrating everything wonderful about college, with over 200,000 words featuring sophisticated professors, sexy teaching assistants, ambitious grad students, and spirited undergraduates, all looking for the same thing: an A+ in true love.

My contribution is Lesson Learned.
Former lovers are thrown together...this time as student and teacher in the classroom.

Blurb: Adam Warren is counting down the days until he can put “Professor” next to his name—and his disastrous past with Tyler Ford behind him. When a fluke puts Tyler in Adam’s class, the graduate assistant faces some hard choices while Tyler faces an uphill battle for a second chance at first love.

Click HERE to join our FB page and get in on the action!

For now, this is all you're going to get here because I'm just that evil. The bundle debuts on August 25th, and throughout the month of September, I'll  put together interviews for each author participating - right here on Naughty Author Chicks.


Friday, July 18, 2014

Do you Dance?

By: Casey Crow

I've been in dance mode lately. I just wrapped up my dance recital. Yes, I still take class after all these years. (I used to own a studio in my hometown and I've got a degree in dance so it's dancing is apart of me.) Although ballet is more my thing, I now take an advanced adult jazz class that's a serious workout and seriously hard - think triple pirouttes and gran jetes. We even have a NYC Rockette in class when she isn't kicking it up in Manhattan!

I was also watching "So You Think You Can Dance" this week. I love that show. Well, duh, but all this has me reminiscing about DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE  - especially since I'm about to start a YA dance book as Casey Layne.

To get me back in the mood to write about dancing, I thought I share a snippet:

Southern belle Campbell Layne is the rising star of the Manhattan Ballet Theatre, providing she lands an upcoming principal role. The stage heats up, however, when Rod Carrington steps in and teaches her more than she ever expected!

Determined as she is to stay focused on the audition that will push her into stardom, dazzling attorney Rod Carrington proves to be a major distraction especially when he ends up teaching the college class she’s taking in her spare time. Campbell humiliates herself on their first date, but that doesn’t stop Rod from whisking her off to Italy and turning her into quite the vixen. Too bad he also used his powerful influence to secure the lead for her. Now she’ll never know if her talent is real or “bought” by the man she thought was the love of her life.

“It leaps right off the pages and into your heart. I will remember and reread. I look forward to Ms. Crow’s storytelling in the future. I just love the sassy, Southern girl meets cool rich guy. This book is well worth the read.” My Erotic Reviews

Here's a mainstream excerpt:

“Thank you for attending the performance and for your generous donation to MBT.” His dark eyebrows shot up a notch, highlighting a definite mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Why did they have to be the exact shade of turquoise as the Caribbean Ocean at sunset? Stunning.

“That’s well-rehearsed, Miss Layne. Tell me, though, do you turn on the Southern belle charm for all your fans or only the male ones?”

Her mouth fell open, but thank goodness she had the presence of mind to snap it shut. “How dare you? First of all, I’m from Alabama which makes the accent genuine, and secondly, that’s…that’s the rudest, most ungentlemanly thing to say.”

“I never said I was a gentleman and readily admit to be undeserving of your sweet fa├žade. I’d much prefer the real you.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “And precisely what, may I ask, do you assume to be the real me, seeing as our acquaintance has a life span of what? Thirty seconds?”

Rod glanced at an expensive-looking gold watch. “Forty-five.” He stepped closer.

She did not see that coming and stumbled back only to become trapped between the wall and his body. The hard, cold stone competed against his warm, harder presence. Damn it, the latter won out. She ground her traitorous fingertips into her palms in an effort to prevent them from brushing away the stray curl that fell across his forehead.

The hem of his jacket brushed her hip as he moved in to splay his hand over her waist. The pressure built as he gathered her an inch closer. She caught a faint whiff of his cologne. The clean, fresh scent permeated the air and reminded her of the Southern pines back home, but this was not the time to reminisce.

“In fact, I’d like to get to know every inch of you.” Another sharp tug had her chest pressed against his rock solid form.

Her blood boiled in a delicious rhythm. Obviously, the vibrator thing was getting old if this jerk was turning her on. She made a mental note to ask her best friend, Heidi, to set her up on a date. Any man would do—as long as it was not Rod.

She flexed her fingers and pushed against his shoulders. “Let go of me, you arrogant pig.” A lion, cougar, leopard—anything powerful—seemed a more apt description though.

Rod chuckled and loosened his hold. A fraction. Enough to insert his finger between them. It followed the line of fabric at her shoulder slowly, very slowly, across her chest. As he glided over her cleavage, he said, “But, my dear, you’re mistaken. It’s confidence I possess.”

“More like cockiness.” Even as she said it, Bella couldn’t take her gaze off his finger or steer her attention from the intense hunger  sweeping through her. She instinctively arched her back, lifting her breasts to silently beg for more.

“Either way, but I always get what I want, and in case you need me to spell it out”—he slid his finger up her throat to tilt her chin, forcing her to look at him—“I. Want. You.”

He uttered the words with such conviction, her breath hitched. No, stopped. She literally thought she might pass out. Swoon, like one of those Regency ladies she’d thought of a moment ago, only she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Feigning haughty sophistication was not in her repertoire, but there was a first time for everything. She raised a brow and allowed her gaze to wander his body as he’d done to her. The black tux cut a dashing figure, making her mouth water for a taste of what lay beneath. She imagined herself undoing each of the black buttons on his starched, white shirt. His bowtie was a little askew. She reached to straighten it, brushing against his neck. She heard his breathing deepen, sensed, rather than saw, the quickening of his jaw. She inwardly smiled and wiggled her toes in a victory dance, but those stupid, treacherous fingers battled back, wanting to still the muscle with a gentle caress. She balled her fists in reprimand, uncaring that her short nails dug into her palms.

When she reintroduced her eyes to his, she shot him what she hoped was a contemptuous glare. “Take your hand off me,” she said slowly and deliberately. She made a dramatic showing of enclosing her fingers, one at a time, around his wrist and tugged his finger away from her boobs.

Nothing happened. Well, almost nothing. He managed to do that trick when one eyebrow lifts higher than the other.

She sighed loudly and exceedingly unladylike. Then she pulled. Hard.

Finally, he broke contact by approximately six inches when twelve would have been much closer to the acceptable personal space limit. Too late to hide her puckered nipples, she still folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot in perfect tempo with her index finger. “An apology would be appropriate at this time.”

“Ah, but then I’d have to, in fact, be sorry.”

He said that? Seriously? She just stood there, gaping. It would’ve been so nice to find the words, any words to speak, but nope. A boa constrictor squeezed her throat.

“What? No response? I assume that negates the possibility of you actually wanting an apology.”

Again, robbed of speech. She felt like a fool, but her mind remained as blank as the sky on a cloudy night. So much for feigning haughty sophistication.

“Um…” Jackpot! At last. Okay, it wasn’t a three-point goal in the final seconds of the game, but her voice hit a few decibels nevertheless.

Rod’s deep chuckle reverberated throughout the alcove as he captured both of her shoulders. He laughed at her. Worse, he was going to kiss her. She knew it. Right here, right now. In front of everyone. A complete stranger. Well, not completely, she knew his name at least. Knowing the first name made it all right, didn’t it?

Lord, what am I thinking? She did not go around kissing strangers. Hell, she didn’t go around kissing people she knew. What would her mama think? She’d die of shame, that’s what.

But heaven knew she wanted to taste those beautiful, full lips. She purely ached to run her fingers through his wavy, chestnut hair and slide her hands inside his coat to see if his abs were as hard as she imagined they would be. She closed her eyes and barely swallowed the lump stuck in her throat before licking her lips, preparing for the inevitable.

****
So obviously Rod jumps right on in there with Campbell. Is that how you like your man, or do you the slow and steady kind? I'd love to hear your stories and since you know I love dancing of all kinds, let me hear stories about those, too!


DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE BUY NOW from Amazon or from Siren Publishing
DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE EXCERPTS
Visit Casey at http://www.caseycrow.com
Follow on Twitter @caseyecrow and Facebook Casey Crow

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Miss Smarty Pants

Since everything in our world today moves so fast, why not short poems that tell a story? And will put a smile on your face...
 

 
Miss Smarty Pants

a  poem

Jina Bacarr

Were you a good girl in school?
Did you follow all the rules?

Learn to spell and read and write?
And everyone called you teacher's delight?

I bet you ignored the boys
And all their fancy toys

But secretly wanted to ride with the top down
And got stuck instead with the class clown

Those days are gone, said and done
You're all grown up and in the end you've won

You got your schoolin'
And no foolin'

Smart girls finish first in the game of life
In spite of all our youthful strife

When you text that hottie you met online
You know how to spell and ain't that divine.


Best,
Jina

www.facebook.com/JinaBacarr.author
https://twitter.com/JinaBacarr
http://www.pinterest.com/jbacarr   

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Guest Author Jane Leopold Quinn

Cindy is still in deadline mode, so guest author Jane Leopold Quinn is filling in, talking about her newest release. Enjoy!



A PROMISE AT DAWN
by Jane Leopold Quinn

Thanks to the Naughty Author Chicks for having me on their blog today.  I have a combination of books at publishers and Indie published books.  One of the best parts of being self-published, besides getting more of the royalty pie, is having complete control over your own cover.  The cover for this book, A Promise at Dawn, is by far the hottest one.  But it was perfect for this story.  The sunrise, the time of day that Faye first sees Gil running on the beach, is in the upper left corner of the cover, but you may not notice that because of the lovers below.  Faye may be widowed and still grieving but she can’t resist watching the hunk running on the beach every morning at dawn.  Gil feels he must paint this mysterious woman at the moment the sun peeps over the watery eastern horizon to capture her essence and her heart.  Their age difference is a problem…or is it?   


BLURB

Their affair was scorchingly sensual

Faye Burke, recently widowed, retreated to the coast of Maine to grieve and reassess her future. Her favorite part of the day is watching the sun rise out of the Atlantic Ocean. It’s also when the man she considers her guilty pleasure runs along the beach.

Gil Farrelly, a successful painter, is trying to get his career back on track after the studio fire that destroyed everything. He starts his creative juices flowing every day by running on the beach. The lovely woman who watches him also gets his juices flowing and he’s determined to reinvent his career by painting her.

Faye’s combination of maturity and sensual vulnerability intrigue Gil and he wants to immortalize her on his canvas. She’s flattered, aroused and ultimately frightened of the emotions he incites. He claims not to care he’s younger by twelve years but she believes sooner or later he’ll come to his senses and seek out women his own age. Can Faye conquer her fears? Can Gil prove to her it’s not age separating them but her fear?


EXCERPT

“Was your studio here in this area?”
“Uh huh. Like you, I came up here a couple years ago to find myself. Since the fire, I’ve been doing some landscapes. You’re the first portrait I’ve wanted to do in a long time.”
She lay on her back, tilting her face to the sun, savoring the warmth. She’d popped a slice of apple in her mouth, and he watched her chew and swallow it. “Faye,” he began, shifting his body over hers.
She sighed and opened her eyes. 
He didn’t waste any time. Through eyes barely open, he watched her lashes close, watched her lips part. He kissed her softly. With light touches and delicate sips, he tasted the sweet stickiness of the apple on her lips.
She didn’t respond. It wasn’t a rejection. It just wasn’t a response.
He braced his hands on either side of her shoulders, holding himself off her breasts so the only place their bodies met was their lips. It took all his control to go slowly. 
At first she didn’t touch him. Then at the same time she began to kiss him back, she placed her palms on his chest, their warmth and pressure highly arousing. She slid her arms around him and slowly pulled him down on top of her. 
Yes.
He took that for permission and rolled to his back, taking her, draping her over his body. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand cupping her head lightly, giving her the opportunity to break away if she didn’t like it. She stayed, and he deepened his kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, claiming her, delving into her welcoming and passionate response. 
Her moans rose sweetly from her throat, then became deep growling noises. Her hands cupped his face, held him. She massaged his tongue with hers. His cock surged in response. 
He rolled again putting her beneath him and slid his thigh between hers.
Her body quivered, her hips undulated, pressing upward against his.
He moved his fingers to the buttons of her sweater and flicked them open one by one, spreading the sides to reveal a pretty white lacy bra with, thank the good Lord, a front clasp. Her eyes opened, met his with an erotic, pleading gaze. The clasp easily opened, and her full, pale breasts spilled free. 
“Gil,” she gasped his name. There was no question in it, just pure desire.
Slipping his hands under her shoulders, he pulled her up, brought his mouth down, and latched onto a beautiful strawberry shaded nipple as erect and hard as a little clit.
He uttered a soft grunt at her sharp cry, drawing on her, loving the taste and feel of the tightly furled bud.
She clawed at his shoulders, writhing under him. “Yes, yes, God, yes.”
He delicately clamped her nipple between his teeth.
“Yes. Harder.”
He rocked the tip and lashed it with his tongue.
“Oh. The other one,” she begged with a breaking sob. She fisted her fingers in his T-shirt, yanking, tugging at it.
He released her nipple and pushed himself up.
“No,” she cried.
He gripped the back of his T-shirt and pulled it off over his head, tossing it aside. “I want to feel your skin on mine,” he murmured, and teased her other nipple. 
She gave herself so completely over to the torment of his mouth. He could feel her fingernails on his shoulders. The harder she scored, the deeper he drew on her nipple. They fed off each other, off the ecstatic storm of their emotions. She cried his name, rolled her head back and forth on the blanket, stiffened, and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. He felt her orgasm in the vibration of the guttural groan from deep in her belly.
His heart soared, his lips tipped in an elated smile. Just giving her this pleasure satisfied him more than he thought possible. She was an amazing combination of reluctance and responsiveness. She thought her age might make her less attractive? Ha!

A Promise at Dawn is available at Amazon
Amazon Reviews

"Good short story! Faye and Gil have very hot chemistry, and their story is heartwarming. I was surprised at the character development in such a short offering. Faye had suffered such a huge loss, and we were drawn in along on her new path in life."

"Ms Quinn paints a detailed portrait of a woman re-awakening after the loss of her husband. Her emotional state is handled quite deftly. This story has pathos, passion and humor woven together. Gil and Faye's story unfolds quickly and it's a scorcher."

Bio
Sensual fantasies were locked in my mind for years until a friend said, "Why don't you write them down?" Why not, indeed? One spiral notebook, a pen and the unleashing of my imagination later, and here I am with more than a dozen books published. The craft of writing erotic romance has become my passion and my niche in life. I love every part of the creative process — developing characters, designing the plot, even drawing the layout of physical spaces from my stories. My careers have been varied — third grade school teacher, bookkeeper, secretary — none of which gave me a bit of inspiration. But now I'm lucky enough to write romance full time — the best job in the universe!

Please check out my blog for a listing of all my books.
Jane Leopold Quinn
My Romance:  Love With a Scorching Sensuality