Wicked Wednesday with Anna del C. Dye

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Once Upon Two Kingdoms by Anna del C. Dye

Young Adult Medieval Romance. High Fantasy

Back cover blurb:

An arrangement made when Elizabeth was just a babe ties her to someone she has never met, never spoken to, never loved. Now she desires freedom—a way to choose her own path—her own husband. The moment Elizabeth meets Patrick she knows he is her soul mate. But when you are bound to a crown how is any choice your own?

Excerpt:

Her hand secured in his, he sprinted into a soft run. She giggled and he wished he could keep her happiness to brighten his heart on cold nights.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Just a bit farther, and a little higher, and you will see,” he answered.

They slowly climbed a rocky incline. Then, he took her hands to help her climb up the last large rock. Then he reached for her arm to steady her at the top. She did not rebuke him. The warmth that emanated from her made him complete somehow.

His eyes remained glued to the silhouette next to him until she looked at him expectantly. Then, he remembered why they were there.

“Look.”

He pointed at the dark mirror below their feet.

“Oh, Patrick, it’s so beautiful,” she murmured.

The glassy surface of a silvery moonlit lake reflected the millions of stars in the night sky, giving the illusion that the stars had doubled. It pleased him to have im­pressed her into quiet contemplation.

“It is majestic.” His admiration, however, was for the stars trapped in her blue eyes.  Did she know how her mere presence affected him?

“I have never seen such a sight in my life.”

She turned slowly to take in the whole sky from the last diamond far away to the ones swimming in the lake.

Could he have strayed from a dream? If it was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up, especially to a reality he didn’t care for. The thought that they needed to go back to the unattended fire intruded in his mind and he sent it far away.

“See that star out there?” he said.

“The brightest one?”

“Yes. That is the star you can follow when you need to find your way in the night, it points to the north.”

“Is that right? I suppose that would be helpful if you knew where you came from.”

“It would be most helpful,” he smiled.

He told her the names of some of the stars and the location of various constellations until a shiver ran through her body that he felt in her arm.

“We have stayed too long, My Lady. Come, we’d better go back to the fire or it will go out on us.”

“This view is so amazing. I hate to leave it.”

“I feel the same as you.”

Once at the campsite, Patrick broke their silence, “How does my lady like living in a castle?”

“I thought I did, until I was told that my life didn’t belong to me anymore.”

Her eyes remained focused on the danc­ing flames at her feet.

“That would be hard to like,” he agreed.

“What do you think about your life in the palace?”

“I did like it. A lot of responsibility, but I was doing all right, I thought. Then I, like you, discovered that my future was not my own. After that, I am not sure I care to return to it any longer.”

“That is why you and I are here,” she said.

Their eyes stared deeply into the orange flames, as if they held some miraculous answer to their dilemmas. For a moment, only silence battled the noise of the crackling fire.

Here he was, in the middle of nowhere, yet he had found a soul mate, someone who felt the same way he did.

His eyes went to the moon and he realized it was quite late and Patrick broke the silence, “Does My Lady have a blanket?”

“No. I did not plan to get lost.”

“I only have one. We’ll have to share it.”

---

Wicked Wednesday: Judy Kammeraad "Teach Me Too"

Welcome back to Wicked Wednesday! Today we have Judith Kammeraad giving us a look into her book Teach me Too formally of Secret Publishing now available at I Heart Publishing.

Blurb:
Soul-melding sex turns up the temperature in this tale of empowerment via unselfish love. Injured in body and mind by her students, Lyla Gray tries for a new life as governess on the DuPree orange and alpaca ranch in Citrus County, Florida.
Lyla recovers her professional confidence quickly, but her drive for a normal life—including romance—is something else. What is she supposed to do when, despite a libido on overdrive, her trauma rules out contact with...the scary part of men? It’s not easy with sex –exuding young males all around, including sweet, delicious looking Mark DuPree and his hungry, sad green eyes. Mark seems to be spoiling for a fight with her all the time, and he’s lost in grief and work demands and looking for someone to help him regain some kind of life.
Vandalism, mysterious deaths, community feuds, and tending to the tattered emotions of those worse off than she is gobble up Lyla’s obsession with herself.But will Mark help her save herself from the past and learn that there’s nothing scary about loving after all?


Excerpt:
Piles of books surrounded Lyla and Libby when Mark poked his nose into the attic room. He looked rather mulish to her.
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you. Come down to my study, please.”
Lyla’s back stiffened. He demanded her presence, did he? What was it about that man that made her feel so annoyed? Why couldn’t he act like his easy-going brother? They could have so much fun working side by side in this house.
She started off to Mark’s lair, as far from her room as possible, thank God. She wanted to keep that grimace at arm’s length.
She forced a few deep breaths and halted on the stairs to consult with her inner self. What did Mark say that set her off? Did he mean it the way she took it? She felt sweaty and cranky. Don’t be stupid, Lyla. Don’t start out on the wrong foot. She stopped in front of Mark’s open door.
She opened her palms to him. “You summoned me. Here I am.”
His oversized, tidy desk dominated the center of his uncluttered office. Books and organized stacks of papers filled shelves on three walls. She drew in the odor of leather and wood, aromas that spoke of testosterone and set her anxiety vibrating like a violin string. Just enough to keep her on edge.
He motioned her to the cowhide chair across from his desk. He sat down in its twin, with his back to a double window that looked out over the back lawn and the Big River. Good. Just keep the desk between them. Already the hairs on the nape of her neck stood at attention, and he hadn’t said a word.
Lyla sat up straight. The chair was comfortable but made for a man’s long thighs, so she kept sliding forward in the well-rubbed cowhide. If only her mouth weren’t so dry. She forced down a couple of swallows and turned her face to sniff the leather, as if that could immunize her against masculine power. She couldn’t get comfortable with him over there ogling her, judging her.
Mark stood up and extended his long-fingered hand, the nails short and clean. Her hand in his felt like a chocolate in an overly warm room, but she lacked the will to remove it. At the same time, his sober eyes on hers made her anxiety twang. He tipped the plantation blinds to minimize the glare on her eyes. Hmmm, all right, she could give him points for that.
She rubbed her wrists against each other, leery of him as a male, maybe a man who missed having a woman. Already he put her teeth on edge and pulled her closer at the same time.
At first they engaged in general conversation about his two children. She burned to pry more out of him.
“What are your goals?” she probed. “What do you want me to do for them?”
“They need to learn, especially English and math—and anything you think is important. I want to send them to college.”
“Ah, that helps. Do you have a copy of the local curriculum?”
He waved the question away. “I thought that was up to the teacher.”
“What about textbooks?”
“Order what you want—Dick and Jane or something.”
Inside she growled. “Well, I expect you’ll want your stamp on their education. Do you value creativity, or rote learning? Are you a liberal thinker or conservative? Not that they won’t experience my influence as well.”
“All that. Whatever works.” He passed a hand over his face.
Annoyance bubbled over in her stomach. “My goodness, haven’t you thought about the shape of your children’s education at all?”
He stood up and stared out the window at the wide part of the river. Had she irritated him? Good. Stick a match under him.
“Damn it, just teach them,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “Can’t you do that?”
His distraught gesture pulled on her reins. Don’t jump to conclusions, said an inner warning. You did that when you trusted your students. You don’t know what’s going on with this man. The blood throbbed in her veins from sparring with him or trying to. This was like a good jolt of caffeine, honing the sharp, suspecting edges in her mind.
She paused while she restrained herself a little further. “Mark, I’m not trying to wear you down. I don’t want a dispassionate discussion. Surely you have hopes…objectives.”
Mark jerked in his chair. “Don’t you have any idea how to take care of this without me telling you everything?” His eyes were flinty.
She met his gaze, her chin high. “Of course, I do. I know how to do it all, but I can help your children so much better with you involved. Your resistance is holding me back.”
His eyes blazed, and he clenched his fists. She shouldn’t have worked herself up, but, damn it, she enjoyed it, and she liked seeing his eyes darken with feeling. Heat rolled off him to her and made her shiver. Inside her, where he couldn’t see, longing unrolled itself, a carpet, long untrodden. She tried to stuff it back inside.
He looked from side to side, as if searching for something. “Can’t you see I’m at a loss how to proceed with the children? I’m at a loss how to deal with you, too, if you want to know, though I shouldn’t admit weakness.”
“Maybe you don’t need to deal with me, as you say. But we do have to talk. I need to know where you stand.”
He turned to the window. He waited, his words below the surface, like a long forgotten wreckage, and when he faced her, his jaw was all hard angles again.
They started to talk, both at once.
“Mark, I…”
“It’s…”
They sighed.
He cleared his throat. “Look, I run this place. Office work, phone calls, orders, sales, manning the winery—that’s my day and part of my night, with my dad’s work knocking me into next week. I need to be steel-minded, and I make all the decisions—all of them, but I’m out of my depth here. He
opened his hands in an expansive gesture. “I really need you to take charge of this.”
Approval cuddled up in Lyla’s heart. Wasn’t it nice that, after all, Mark could concede his shortcomings without it bringing him down? That made him a man like her father, the pastor who was quick to say he didn’t know it all. A real man.
“Mark, why don’t you let me tell you some of my ideas? Then, if you agree, I’ll start that way. Let’s just talk, okay? I merely need to know if we’re on the same page about the children.”
He flopped back down in his chair. “Yes, all right.”
She summarized her observations so far. Elizabeth could start at grade level in math. Reading was a mixed story. Lyla talked about passive word recognition and phonics skills. “Teaching those is my job.” She explained the importance of writing alongside reading.
His face cleared. “You mean Libby can tell a story but not put it in writing?”
“Exactly. That’s not too unusual but frustrating for her, given the large number of words she wants to use. I have an idea she’s pretty bright, and she’ll learn quickly. She’ll have a lot to write about.”
Mark grinned. “That makes me proud.” His hands were in his hair, his elbows on his desk. “So, reading and writing are perfect partners.”
She smiled. “Yes, the light will go on. She will start choosing to read more often than doing something else.”
He laughed. “You mean soaking up television and punching her brother.”
“Yes, she already loves stories. She told me about Jane Eyre today. You were there.”
He grinned. “I hate to bear bad tidings, but she didn’t read the book. We watched it on television together not too long ago.”
“And she loved the story, right?”
Mark gave a tentative smile. “Yes, and she was in heaven when she learned a governess was coming here.”
“Well, I want to give her the skills to express herself. Her delights, her fears—everything in life.”
Mark agreed that Libby would like that. “That’s how you get on top of life before it crushes you, I imagine.”
“Yes. I can’t say I’ve mastered that a hundred percent myself—getting on top.” She remembered the blood all over the closet on the day words had failed her. Raw fear alone had helped her to survive, and it was still with her now sometimes.
Mark bounded to the opposite side of the desk. “You don’t look too well all of a sudden. Wait a minute.”
He returned in a moment with a glass of water. “Here, clear your mind.”
The water felt cool, Mark’s response warming.
“I’m sorry. I can see I put you too much on the spot.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t.” Her voice was a dry croak. How could she explain that fear unsettled her?
Mark leaned against the edge of the desk, watching her nurse her water.
This put her face on the level of his crotch. She eyed the wide leather belt holding his jeans low on his hips. She could smell the cowhide on him, along with gentle soap. The honest scents kept her anxiety at bay. Lyla claimed a deep breath and lifted her eyes to Mark’s face in time to see an earnest smile replace his knit eyebrows.
“Maybe it would be more fun to talk about my son. I’m sure you’re wondering about Raisin’s name?”
She nodded.
“It grew on him over the years. Most of his mishaps had something to do with his raisin obsession. Early on, he stuffed several of them far up his nose to save them for later. The same with his ears. Another time, his raisin stash sent Ralph to the vet hospital with kidney trouble.”
“Yes, I can see Raisin’s difference from his sister. He meant it when he said he didn’t want to go to school, but he’s a sucker for stories too. I intend to draw him in with that. And raisins.”
Mark’s attentive eyes indicated he followed her ideas for his offspring.
Finally her talk turned to him, the father. “Libby and Raisin need you to read to them. A lot. And talk to them about the stories and the life lessons in them.”
“That’s what I pay you for, isn’t it?” His abrupt tone rankled “You read to them. I’ll work and make money so I can pay you to read.”
She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “Your children need both of us if this is going to happen for them. I’m telling you.”
Mark steepled his fingers and peered at her as clouds gathered on his face.
She had to win this round. “Reading can’t be something you do only in school, Mark. Reading has to be something the children care about deeply, because it connects them with their dearest love.”
He took the bait. “What’s that?”
She looked into his earnest eyes. “You.”
He paced in front of the window.
Finally she changed the subject. “What about the teenager you described in your letter?” She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from him. It was hard to repress her smirk.
He chuckled then. The thunderclouds cleared off his face, and he gave her a sheepish glance. “That was Robert. I don’t know why I wrote that. He’s a college graduate now, with a degree in agriculture and business, to the benefit of the ranch. I suppose it’s too late to tame him now, anyway.”
“Maybe he doesn’t need taming. Maybe he needs freedom.”
“Look, it was a joke, writing that, and partly I was irked with him at the time, because I wanted him to stop goofing around and take responsibility. I’m, er, ashamed of myself now. Of course Robert works. He just has fun while he works.” Mark paused, scratching his head. “And you’re right. Robert feels shackled to a job he doesn’t love. I’m sorry about that, because he deserves better.”
A man who can apologize, purred the warm, fuzzy spot in her heart.
Mark sighed. “I’m sorry too, for the offensive things I said when we met. It seems a long time ago now, and I can’t believe I was not more cordial.”
“That was today.”
“Well, I was angry. I was irritated. I was frustrated. And I was unbelievably tired. I know those things do not make an excuse for my bad behavior. Please forgive me for that. I need a second chance. With you, with my kids…and with life.” His eyes looked contrite.
That squeezed Lyla’s heart. “We both need that, I think.”
“The truth is I’m the one who needs to be tamed. Ever since my wife died and my father started getting more eccentric and depressed, I felt like the only adult in the family, with this strange cast of characters around me.” He made a wide circle with his arm.
“What happened to your wife?”
He lowered his eyes and hunched his shoulders forward.
The pain in his eyes made her heart turn over. “I’m sorry.” she said. “I have a way of saying the wrong things.
“No, we might as well get to know each other, so, yes, my past is a place you should be able to visit. My wife Ruthie died three years ago. She had a heart attack shortly after giving birth. The baby died too. Raisin was two, and Libby was five.
“My father was undependable, my brother just a kid, or so I thought. Mattie kept our bodies and souls together in every practical way after Ruthie died, just as she did before, when my wife was sick, and even earlier, when my mother passed away. I ran the ranch…I don’t know how. Emotionally, I was shattered and exhausted. Maybe the others were too.”
Mark paused but finally continued in baby steps. “So…you see…I…I don’t really know what we
need. I don’t know…what I want, except in the broadest way. I want my kids kept away from danger and bullying. I want them nurtured the way their mother can’t do anymore.”
His groping fingers made his hair stand up like a child’s. Lyla wanted to laugh at this sign of his agitation, but she knew this was serious. Important.
He cleared his throat. “So, maybe that addresses your question. I want less aggravation. I want some kind of life back. I want laughter in my house. Maybe you can help me with that. If you think that’s not your job, I understand.”
She nodded assent.
“How about you, Lyla? What do you want? What do you need?” He reached for her hand.
How could she tell him the truth? Hers wasn’t an easy story to tell, especially to a man.
He turned her hands over and examined the scars on the inner surface of her wrists. “What’s this?”
She turned her eyes to him. “What do you know about me? Did you notice I haven’t worked for over a year?”
“Yes, I did notice that.”
“Didn’t you think it was strange? Didn’t you want to ask me about it?”
He gave a rueful laugh. “Nothing you may have to hide is stranger than what you’ll find right here on the funny farm.” Those remarkable green eyes riveted her to the point. “What I needed to know when you answered my ad was that you were willing to come here and take on my kids…and the rest of us.”
He waited a few beats. “I can see somebody hurt you. The rest of your story I’d very much like to hear when you are ready, a little at a time, or all at once. Lyla, no one will hurt you here.”
He cleared his throat. “I run a rat race around here every day, but in the long run I have time to listen. He smiled and took her hand again, as he rested his elbows on the desk. He looked over their hands into her eyes. “Let’s talk again, okay?”
This moment didn’t last as long as she wanted. Mark stood up and led her to the door. “You know where you can find me.” He closed the door behind her, and she heard his boots squeak on the rug as he returned to his desk.
Her breath hitched. A sensitive man who tells you his story on the first day, said her inner self. Why was she standing here outside the door, just when he got her interested?
She didn’t get him. First he lit a fire in her, but then he called it quits. It felt exhilarating to argue with him, though she felt strong empathy too. He gave her a peek inside him, when they’d only just met. Maybe she wanted to do the same for him.
Inside her quarters, she leaned against the door. “It turns out you want the same things I do, Leather Man. So you say.” She closed her eyes and ran her hands up and down her arms. She growled as she revisited his words. “I want some kind of life back too. I am shattered and exhausted too, so if you can help me, that’s what I want you to do.” She tasted tears in her throat. “And I want to help you too.”
In her memory, his eyes flashed. She groaned and opened her eyes wide, her pulse awakened. “And I want to fight with you too.”

My website is www.judithkammeraad.com  
People can get to know me on my two Facebook pages:  judith kammeraad or author judith kammeraad.


Bio:
Judith Kammeraad grew up a good girl under the triple onus of preacher-teacher-author’s kid with a fecund imagination as a survival tool. Making up stories proved almost involuntary, and books were her best friends. Dad reinforced words as the best fun ever.
She married her high school sweetheart, who brought out her naughty side at last. The Kammeraads settled down in Michigan and raised two daughters as creative as their mom, encouraging them to embrace their inner quirkiness. Judith devoted herself to a teaching career and created her stories and poems on the side.
These days the Kammeraads and their talented sheltie live in Florida near their six grandchildren, who inspire stories about the mental workings of children. In a secret life she writes sweaty novels that break hearts and warm the spirit. And keep her laughing and crying all day.

Wicked Wednesday: Motor City Book Experience author, Terrie Branch

My name/ pen name is Terrie L Branch.
I'm a  participant in the Motor City Book Experience August 20th in Detroit Michigan.  Im  a Shaunta Kenerly Presents Publications Author.  

******************************************
Excerpt:

Choose Your Poison  ( Confessions of a Stripper)
KRYSTLE─── Yeah, that’s me. Hmmph … They wonder where I got that name… Shit, I just simply like the damn name. So I rolled with it. My government name is Chrissy Burton. I couldn’t do this shit with my real name.   A broke college student that needed money to get through. So I did what I had to do. See, all the guys in school used to ask me was I a stripper before I was technically one. That was because I possessed this sexy ass body that you could see even if I had on a MUMU. I could honestly say I got it from my mama. This lady still had a nice shape as an older lady. I guess it was in our genes! My eyes were a hazel brown. That's another thing that I had inherited from my mom. The shape of my eyes was strictly from my dad's side of the family. Everyone on his side of the family had slanted eyes.  My hair hung below my shoulders, even though I still rocked a few pieces of Malaysian extensions in it for added volume from time to time. When bitches met me for the first time they would always ask if it was all mine. ─Technically the shit was all mine. I paid for it! So when I did take the weave out muthafuckas were usually shocked to see how much hair I had. I guess for an African American girl I was supposed to have short hair. You know the stereotype that if you weren’t Caucasian or Hispanic you couldn’t have hair. I don’t know who the fuck thought of that dumb shit! But any who! Soon after meeting my best friend Shanna Howard, a stripper name Xtreme, she introduced me to this world. Now she was a bad bitch. She was beautiful with a slamming ass body. This bitch seemed to have her shit on lock; She knew how to get her money up ─ for sure! Having strict parents was one of the hardest things I could ever have to deal with. When it came to being a college student. No matter how much I begged, my dad’s answer would always be no when it came to money for leisure things. I remember calling and asking him for money so I could get a Coach bag that all the girls were rocking at the time and his answer was no. I even asked him for money for a new laptop and his answer was, “Is the refurbished one that your mom and I bought you working? Because if it is, I’m not spending money on another just so you can show off to your little friends. That’s wasting money girl! Do you realize that money don’t grow on trees and there is so much more we can do with the money you want to waste to keep up with the Joneses?” He was stingy as hell and I hated it! He was so damn thrifty and the thought of it ticked me off! Shanna on the other hand, had the best of everything. Now I wasn’t at all jealous, but the shit was annoying. I loved my dad but I hated his ways sometimes! Shanna and a couple other friends of mine, would go to the malls and come back with all kinds of shoes and clothes. These bitches were fly as hell.  Me, I had to recycle what I had from the year prior and that shit wasn’t cool. I had bare minimum when it came to extra cash, clothes and anything else. I would usually lie when it came to going out with my friends, telling them I had to study for exams or that I had homework to complete. I knew that it was a white lie, but it was hella embarrassing to say that I didn’t have any money. Even though some of my friends had jobs, there were some of us that were funded by our parents. Although mine wasn’t giving me shit, but the necessities. Later, I learned that everything that looked innocent wasn’t. My point… a lot of those bitches weren’t as innocent as they looked. Most of them had sugar daddies and the so called jobs that they were working was in the same damn field that my ass is in right now, SHAKING THEIR ASSES for this quick cash. And me, I had no clue at the time. I was “Miss Follow All The Rules and Be A Good Girl!” I was so naïve that I really thought that they had legit jobs and shit! Little did I know! Hmph!!! Now years later, here I was… a college dropout shaking my ass for some grimy ass niggas for money. The same kind of money these bitches were getting back then. I started thinking, why the hell should I go to school for years only to get out of school and sit around for another few years searching for a damn job. I had friends that had graduated with a master’s degree and applied for jobs that they were turned down for. The reason usually was that they were too qualified. These damn places were smart. They knew if they hired someone with little or no education in the field, that they could train them, pay them less and they would be good with it. They also knew if they hired someone who held a degree that they would have to pay them their worth. So you would be doomed if you did and doomed if you didn’t. So I began to not really give a fuck about school. Why go? For what? When it was easy to get my money now. See- I let all the damn money go to my head after receiving large sums of cash. I forgot all about my real goals. All that shit went downhill once this money started to hit my hands. Fast money… So here I was… Standing behind these streamers waiting for the DJ to play my intro song. I was watching Xtreme swing her hair as she slid down the pole. That girl knew how to work that pole. Rubbing the pole in between her breast while the ballers sat at the far end of the stage with fists full of cash. It wasn’t strange for them to be here on what used to be a slow night. The club owner Rick arranged this night to get the club packed on these kind of days.  The crowd usually came in on ‘Turn Up Tuesdays,’ because they got shots for a dollar and for that they stuck around. Tuesdays had been pretty slow in the past, but it was turning around for the club and we weren’t complaining. Shit, we had to still make that money. Now Extreme knew she was pretty so she used it to the extreme… Just like her damn name. Hell, I hated waiting for someone to finish. Hell… I hated being here period, dancing for these old dirty and sweaty men. Only- here I stood anyway. A girl had to get her money up some kind of way.

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Motor City Book Experience take over: NiKay Rountree

My name/ pen name is NiKay Rountree.
I'm a  participant in the Motor City Book Experience August 20th in Detroit Michigan.  

I'm a Shaunta Kenerly Presents Publications  Author. I saw your post in the group and wanted to get a jump on things and send you my excerpt and contact information. Its an women's fiction/romance novel. Thanks so much. Let me know if you need anything else.

Excerpt from The Cheaters Wife

Stephanie: Blind Eyes

I sat in the office waiting area as I anticipated the calling of my name. I couldn’t believe I was here.  I would never have thought that I would be faced with a decision like this.  However, I would die before I had another one of his kids.  I had been with my husband, Marcus, for fifteen years.  We had three kids.  Two boys and a girl. My daughter, Casey, was my little sweetheart, but she was also a daddy’s girl.  That really made me sick, but I understood.  My son’s, Malik and Maurice, were definitely momma’s boys.  I loved my children dearly, but the hell if I was going to bear another one of Marcus’ offspring.  He didn’t deserve it.  He didn’t deserve the ones he had.  Hell, he didn’t deserve me.
“Mrs. Perez-Jenkins,” the nurse called.  “Mrs. Jenkins,” she repeated as she looked around the waiting room.
I wanted to pretend like she wasn’t calling my name and walk out, but I couldn’t.  I had to go through with this.  A baby would only be a burden right now.  I wouldn’t want to bring a child in the world under these circumstances. So, I reluctantly stood up and walked towards the nurse.
“Follow me Mrs. Perez-Jenkins,” she said as she led the way.
“I am very nervous.  I have never done anything like this before,” I told her trying to somehow make myself feel better about the decision I was making.
She looked at me with the most sincere and caring face and replied, “Don’t worry Mrs. Perez-Jenkins.  We will take great care of you.”
We walked into the patient room where they were going to prep me for the procedure.  Again, I wanted to walk away.  It wasn’t too late—yet.  But, after my private detective, Tracy, came back with the news that Marcus was still seeing Kalinia, his old flame from college, I knew this was the right thing for me to do.  Marcus and his lies.  His damn broken promises.  He promised me that I would always be his one and only.  Lie!  He promised me that he would never hurt me. Lie! He promised me that he was not like the men that my best friend, Makiah, seemed to always get involved with.  Another Lie!  He looked me dead in my eyes, with a straight face and said that he would never let another woman come between what we had. Lie, lie, and more lies!
“That lying motherfucker,” I yelled.  Everyone turned around in amazement.
“Are you okay,” the anesthesiologist said.  “I really need you to calm down.  I am about to give you a cocktail mix of Propofol, Midazolam, and Fentanyl.  You will begin to feel a warm sensation all over your body.  It is okay.  Do you feel it yet,” he asked.
I slurred, “Yessss.  I do.  It feels good.”
“Count backwards from 10,” said the anesthesiologist.
“10, 9, 8, 7, 6…,” I said as I began to succumb to the medicine.
I woke up hours later thinking, “Lord, please forgive me for what I have done.”

Thursday Tips: promoting with your smart phone

Hello everyone!
Another Thursday so another tip. Today we're going to talk about using your smart phone wisely!
In this on the go, digital society that we live in now our phones ate used for everything! You name it we can do on our phones and we can't we're completely baffled as to why not. So promotion should be no different.
Whether you're self published or with a house, we are our own promotion specialist. We should always be prepared to self promote when the opportunity arises.
So, here are 5 tips that I got from Sylvia Hubbard (she's sylviahubbard1 on all the social medias) that I wanted to share with you to be promo ready via your smart phone.
1) keep pics of your covers in your gallery
Why? Because when your chit chatting with folk and someone says, that's so cool you wrote a book. What does it look like? Boom, you can show them
2) know your links
During that same conversation the next thing people ask would be, where can I find you? You can rattle off your website, social media, Amazon page, or whichever one they're looking for you on to them. That bring us to number 3...
3) use apps
What if this potential reader is a Twitter junkie and wants to follow you. You have Twitter but you only do it on the computer so you don't remember your handle for whatever reason. With the app you could just pull it up real quick, tell them your screen name and show them so they know what to look for. That works for all social media apps
4) save a "promo book blast" to your phone
A promo blast is just a quick "this is what my book is about" paragraph. Its good for answering emails on the go when publishers, interviewers or anyone you're communicating with via email asks what your books about. If you have a paragraph telling them in your own words what the books about along with the blurb and picture that you can shoot back to them in an answer email that would be sufficient until you can get back to them later.
5) also have a author blast.
Like the book blast, this ones about you. Think of it as the about the section of the book. A few quick lines of your writing accomplishments, book titles, social media and website info. Any way and anywhere the reader can reach you should be included.
With these things on your phone promotion for you and your book is right at your finger tips at any time.
Sylvia has great ideas on promotion. These were the ones that stood out to me. Hope they help!
Look for Sylvia Hubbard, her great ideas and her books on all social medias and periscope! If you can't find her as sylviahubbard1 drop the one. See you next week!

Wicked Wednesday with Nia Farrell

AS WICKED AS YOU WANT (Forever Ours Book 1) 

by Nia Farrell

A BDSM MMF ménage Victorian erotic romance, set in 1868 Chicago and London

Length 155,227 words / 609 pages Amazon Kindle https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01ICAW8LI/ or http://mybook.to/FO1 

Teasers and excerpt: 

https://niafarrell.wordpress.com/as-wicked-as-you-want/ or http://bit.ly/29r2ncu 

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/31079535-as-wicked-as-you-want

Blurb: 
Elena “Lane” Davenport is a struggling artist who’s been living as a man since the Civil War. Suffering from “soldier’s heart” (PTSD), facing arrest for failing to officially muster out, Lane is about to lose everything when an offer of help comes from the most unexpected of places. Edward Wainwright is a British history professor—and Lane/Elena’s stepbrother. A dominant man with forbidden passions, he comes to America with news of their mother’s death and finds himself twice tempted. There’s instant attraction between Lane and Edward. Reclaiming her true gender to slip past the Pinkertons should make things easier…except Edward wants both Elena and her studio assistant Daniel O'Flaherty. He hopes that Daniel will eventually submit to him, but they’ll need to learn—when it comes to Elena—just how much Daniel is willing to share. Three soulmates are destined to find each other. Chance brings them together. Will Fate tear them apart? Written for ages 18+.



Excerpt:
“What was that?” I rasped, my voice an octave lower than normal. I’d been a vocal partner, urging him on, begging him to finish, yelping when he accidentally hit a sore spot, crying his name into the mattress when his curled fingers hit another, sweeter place.

“The French call it la petite morte,” he said. “‘The little death.’”

I arched a brow. “Then they have misnamed it,” I muttered in the same language, earning a smile from the good professor. “Pardon me if I don’t reserve judgment, but there was nothing little about that.”

Edward smiled, indulging me. “You are correct. There was nothing little about that. You were magnificent, my dear. Responsive beyond my expectations.”

I rolled on my side to face him. “Beyond your expectations? You mean to say, it’s not like that every time?”

He arched a curious brow. “Hardly. I take it your other partners have not pleased you equally well.”

“Edward,” I said solemnly, “I’ve had no other partners. Remember, I asked you to teach me?”

He stared at me in disbelief, as if I were some strange creature, never before catalogued, that had wandered into his camp and made myself at home by his fire.

I attempted to lighten the mood. “If you’re going to make free with my body, then I reserve the right to ask questions. It’s only fair.”

He rolled onto his back and buried his face in his hands. “My God. What have I done?”

“Nothing that I did not want, or refuse to stop,” I told him. “I wanted to know what pleased you, and it was my choice to submit. Come, I’m not a child. Disregarding when your fingers fucked me senseless, of course, my eyes have been wide open.”

“That’s no excuse,” he grated. “You…you’re a virgin. You couldn’t know.”

“Edward. Edward. May I remind you that I had a brother with friends until the war divided them? And that I served three years in the company of men who loved to brag of their conquests and adventures? Admittedly, I can still be shocked—I mean, what the New Moneys want still boggles my imagination—but surely by now you’ve realized that I am no fragile Miss. Granted, I shall strive to be proper in company, but when it’s the two of us alone, in private, behind closed doors, well, eventually I hope to be as wicked as you want.”

He remained silent, processing, digesting what I’d said. He reached and brushed a finger against my cheek. “I promise you, I shall only take what you are willing to give.”

“And I shall strive to do the same,” I told him.

He tapped my chin and chuckled. “You shall, shall you?”

I knew, if lines were drawn, I would be compelled to try and cross them, but it was my intention to reciprocate. “Mmm, yes, indeed. Hard though it may be. You see, I’ve much catching up to do.”

“So you say.” Drawing a line down my throat, he kept going until he’d reached the top of my breast. I’d bound them, of course, when I was playing the man. Although there was little to be said for the comfort of corsetry (save for the ease it could bring to one’s aching back), I was pleased by the swell of my bosom, laced-up or not.

So was Edward. He asked no permission beyond the look he flicked my way, from breast, to face, and back again, signaling his intention as clearly as if he’d spoken it. Fingers spread, he cupped, then grasped my breast, pressing his palm against the dark rose of my nipple. The feel of his hand and the sound that came from his throat made my breath catch, escaping as a whimper.

“Ooh. Yes. Oh. Yeeessss.” I hissed, arching into his grasp.

“Do you like that, pet?” he murmured, fingers kneading my mound of flesh. “What about this?”

He ducked his head and opened his mouth to take me in, suckling me. I felt the cord connected to my womb, charged with sexual energy that electrified my core and made me tremble in his embrace. He sucked harder, lathing me with his tongue, catching the tip between his teeth and biting me—an erotic mix of pleasure and pain that made me acutely aware of the emptiness between my legs.

“Oh, Edward!”

When I reached for his nearly-dry hair, intending to thread my fingers in his curls, he caught my wrist and pinned it to the mattress. “Leave it,” he ordered, “or I shall tie you up.”

The thought of being bound, helpless, at his mercy…well, what else could I do? I thrust ten fingers in his hair.

“Want to play, do you?” Growling, he grabbed my hands and brought my arms over my head, holding my smaller wrists in one large hand.

“I want you,” I said, grinding my hips against him. “Please, Edward.”

“No.” A sibilant whisper, followed by torment. He pinched my nipple and twisted it cruelly. Tears sprung in my eyes but he did not stop, not even when I begged him for mercy.

“No.” He brushed his lips against my cheeks and tasted tears. He bathed my face with his tongue, swallowing my cry when he squeezed my breast hard enough to bruise. He kissed me, then, claiming my mouth, every part of it, with lips and teeth and tangled tongues.
I whimpered in his mouth. It echoed, returning on a moan dredged up from the depths of his being. “Please, I beg you!”

“You beg me, hmm. For what?” he asked, knowing full well what I wanted.

“Your cock,” I gasped. “I want your cock.”

He released one of my hands and brought it down to his front, pressed my palm against his erection, and wrapped my fingers as far as they could reach around his girth.

“There,” he said, thrusting against my hand. “Happy?”

“No, Edward. Please! I want your cock inside me.”

He smiled darkly, his turquoise gaze fastened on my lips.

“Careful what you wish for, pet.”

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Tasty Tuesday: TexMex Stuffed Peppers

Hello Everyone!
Welcome back to another Tasty Tuesday! This week I was feeling something with a Spanish flair to try for a meatless, but filling dinner. All your meals should have protein in them to keep you going, build lean muscle and burn fat. Meat is a very good source of protein, but there are many veggies and grains that can provide that protein if you're not the carnivorous type. So I found this stuffed pepper recipe that filled with goodness.


TexMex Stuff Peppers

• 1 tablespoon salt
• 4 large green bell peppers - tops, seeds, and membranes removed
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1/2 cup chopped onion
• 2 cups cooked Quinoa
• 1 (15 ounce) can black beans, drained and rinsed

• 1 (14.5 ounce) can chili-style diced tomatoes
• 1 (15 ounce) can of sweet corn, rinsed and drained
• 1 teaspoon chili powder
• 1 teaspoon garlic salt
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 (8 ounce) package shredded Mexican cheese blend

• Prep
  15 m
• Cook
  40 m
• Ready In
  55 m

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
2. Bring a large pot of water and 1 tablespoon salt to a boil; cook green bell peppers in the boiling water until slightly softened, 3 to 4 minutes. Drain.
3. Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat; cook and stir onion in the hot oil until softened and transparent, 5 to 10 minutes.
4. Mix Quinoa, black beans, sweet corn, tomatoes, and cooked onion in a large bowl. Add chili powder, garlic salt, cumin, 1/2 teaspoon salt; stir until evenly mixed. Fold 1 1/2 cups Mexican cheese blend into Quinoa mixture. Spoon rice mixture into each bell pepper; arrange peppers in 9x9-inch baking dish. Sprinkle peppers with remaining Mexican cheese blend.
5. Bake in the preheated oven until cheese is melted and bubbling, about 30 minutes.
6. Enjoy!

Wicked Wednesday with Renee Rose

Excerpt  From His Human Slave by Renee Rose 

He spun the cage back so she faced him once more. “Open cage,” he commanded, and the voice-activated lock clicked. To her, he said, “Come out.” 

She didn’t move. 

His tone went sharp. “Do not anger me a second time, Lamira.” 

Well, apparently he’d already cowed her completely because his words went straight to her chest, creating a sudden tightening and sending her instantly into motion. She hated how easily he’d mastered her. One stupid spanking and she rushed to please him. 

She sniffed back the tears and attempted to push up to her hands and knees—no easy feat with her wrists and ankles bound. 

“Release wrist cuffs. Release ankle cuffs,” he commanded. They sprang apart but not off. 

She backed out of the cage, toward the door, not sure how she would get out until his large hands grasped her waist and lifted her easily to the floor. 

Where to look... Certainly not at the prince—her master—although his presence was more than commanding. He stood almost seven feet tall with thick, corded muscles across his chest and arms. 

Moisture gathered between her legs. 

He looked more warrior than prince. No, he was all king. A warrior king. Earlier, she’d stared at him boldly. Now she kept her eyes lowered, trained at his bare feet. They were no different from hers, except larger and with the brown-purple skin tone of the Zandians. She glanced at her own toes. They were cleaner than they’d ever been before. Even her toenails had been buffed to a glossy shine. How long had she been out? 

The prince cupped her chin and lifted her face. His touch was gentler than she expected. She still couldn’t meet his gaze, choosing instead to stare at his thick neck and the part of his bare chest visible beneath his loose, finely woven white shirt. Her fingers itched to touch his skin, to find out if it was as smooth as it appeared. What a strange idea. She’d never thought about touching a male in her life. In fact, she’d avoided males as best she could. This one had her completely discombobulated. 

Was his chest hairless? Did he have hair anywhere other than his head? Zander, Daneth, and the guards she’d seen outside all wore their hair shorn close to their skulls. Perhaps their horns got too hot otherwise. 

When she’d first seen Daneth, she’d thought the horns ugly, but Zander’s suited him, somehow making him even more handsome. 

He leaned forward and opened his mouth. She tried to pull out of his grasp, but he held her fast, his gleaming teeth aimed straight for her cheek. For a moment, she thought he planned to bite her face, but his tongue flicked out, and he licked one of her tears. She caught his scent, a clean, masculine aroma with a slightly exotic spice. 

Her nipples tightened; her pussy pulsed. No—she definitely was not thinking about licking him back to see how he tasted.

Title: Human Surrender: Five Dark Alien Warrior Romance Novellas

Authors: Sue Lyndon, Alta Hensley, Renee Rose, Kallista Dane, Aubrey Cara

Genre: Erotic Sci-Fi Romance

Word Count: 175K

Links Amazon: http://myBook.to/humans 

Nook: http://goo.gl/hqJrM2 

iBooks: https://goo.gl/B8WSnH 

Kobo: https://goo.gl/T2goUx 

Smashwords: https://goo.gl/xO558X 

All Romance: https://goo.gl/kWDNW6 

Blushing: http://www.blushingbooks.com/index.php?l=product_detail&p=3898&welcome=1

BUY NOW!

Read the first Chapters for FREE: http://humansurrender.gr8.com/

Blurb:

Fierce alien warriors don't ask.  They take, they claim, and they conquer - even when the object of their desires is a trembling human female.

Human Surrender contains five *all-new* dark sci-fi alien romance novellas, brought to you by USA Today and international bestselling authors of BDSM and spanking romance. 

Featured novellas:

Taking Their Human by Aubrey Cara

Pallid Slave by Alta Hensley

His Human Slave by Renee Rose

Their Captive Mate by Kallista Dane

Kenan’s Mate by Sue Lyndon

Publisher’s Note: The books included in this naughty collection are MF and MFM pairings. Though the stories are dark, all have happy endings. 

**Over 175,000 words of dark romance ~ complete stories with no cliffhangers**