Getting a little help from my friends

I can't tell you how much work and help Chasity Breeze and Diana Surgent have been over the last few days. They are helping me put together a blog tour and promote our books... Please stop by their blogs and check them out. They are incredible people!!!!

http://chasitybreeze.blogspot.com/
http://confessionsofabookheaux.com/

Good Reads

Spending the morning learning how Good Reads actually works...

I love this site!

Boneyard Beach Giveaway!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Talk about being excited.  This is one of the best things that's happened since Chris bought me a massaging (vibrating) desk chair for my office!

Excerpt from Boneyard Beach

Amazon
Barnes and Noble
KoboBooks
Smashwords
AllRomance

Or Paperback version:  CreateSpace

'The Night' on Boneyard Beach was over fifteen years ago, but for Jenna Sinkler it is replayed each time she closes her eyes. His hands touching her, the salt marsh taste of his lips, and the ultimate "first time" every girl dreams of.

EXCERPT

He stopped in the sand, his face turned downwards to mine.  His hand slipped up my back to cradle my neck, forcing my face to his.  His breath, slow and deliberate on my skin, warmed me as he lowered his lips to mine.  The smell of the beach, Hawaiian Tropic and lust weighed heavily in my nostrils. I dropped deeper and deeper into his trance.  With our lips pressed hard against one another, his tongue darted out, forcing his way past my guard.  I couldn’t help it.  The flush, tingly feeling crept up my spine and now flooded my arms and legs, I felt almost lethargic.  Yet his strong arms and steady embrace held me close to him, providing the security I needed to allow myself to acquiesce to him.  I was his, his for the taking.  I was simply powerless to guard against his desires.

I was lying on the sand, digging the meticulously painted toes of my right foot into the sand as I bent my knee slightly.  His strong hand clutched my waist while his mouth gently worshipped my skin as he kissed his way across the tops of my breasts.  My inner slut begged him to rip off my top so I could feel his lips on every inch of my body.

I gazed up at the moon while the curls of his hair brushed lightly under my chin.  I fought the urge to spread my legs and invite him inside.  His slow deliberate pace kept my passion just in front of his actions, making my body ache, urge, encourage, downright beg for his touch.  His fingers slipped inside my bathing suit bottom, and slowly pulled them down over my hips.  The stars above my head seemed to move in unison, deepening my trance as they all swirled together.  My mind struggled to follow my body, to mentally record each of his movements, but it was a losing battle.  I fell into a complete state of jello beneath him.

Independent of thought now, my hips rose to meet his fingers.  I was desperate for more of his touch.  And even as I tried to rush the moment, he pulled away, confirming that he was indeed in charge, and he would move this along at his pace.  He was savoring every moment of the encounter as though he were a maestro and each flick of his hand delivered power and emotion.

His knee gently pushed mine aside as he rolled over on top of me.  Holding himself up, he resumed kissing my face:  all of it.  His warm lips brushed over my eyelids as his breath matched mine.  A crescendo of emotions fit perfectly with his touch.  Yet each act seemed to meet or exceed my expectation.

His soft smooth skin felt hot to the touch as I slid my hands over his broad shoulders.  The muscles seemed to ripple under my fingertips as I slid down to his waist.  I pulled him into me, feeling the weight of his body pressing against me as he continued to kiss me deeply.  It all seemed like it was both in slow motion and at the speed of light.

I felt his desire for me in each kiss, as well as the hard lump between the muscular thighs.  My fingers struggled with his waistband, I pulled and pushed on his shorts but my arms weren’t long enough to get them past his muscular thighs.  Sensing my frustration, he carefully balanced himself above me on one arm and slid his shorts down, never breaking the powerful kiss we enjoyed.  The warmth of his skin mingled with the damp feeling between my legs.  The knot within my stomach traveled to my throat.  I tried to open my eyes as he pushed inside me but the raging fire of pain clinched them shut.  Once past my virginal wall, he stayed still within me, allowing the pain to subside.  Slowly he began to move again, instantly warming me with the slow, gentle burn I now yearned for.  His motions were deliberate as he sank deeper inside, his hips once again touched mine.  Slow, gentle movements allowed me to catch my breath as he finally broke our kiss.  I forced my eyes open as he stared into my soul with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.  The moonlight behind him, highlighting his bouncing brown curls seemed almost majestic as our bodies moved together in perfect synchronicity.  Everything seemed to fit together perfectly, and my body exploded with one orgasm after another, each better than the one before.

And then it happened.  He slammed into me hard and deep as I felt this incredible flood of warmth spread through my hips, across my torso, down each leg and out each arm.  Every finger and toe seemed to sizzle with electric current as the feeling of fulfillment spread throughout my entire body.  He dipped his head beside mine, his young beard scraped my cheek softly as he exhaled an incredible moan of satisfaction.

Finally he rolled over onto his back, pulling me into him with his arm around my neck.  I slipped my leg over his and watched him breathe.  Funny how quickly our breaths resumed our rhythm.  We laid there for what seemed like hours as I closed my eyes and replayed the events in my mind.  If it were not for the waves now lapping at our feet, we probably wouldn’t have heard our friends calling our names from down the beach.

 

Boneyard Beach is NOW on sale:

Amazon
Barnes and Noble
KoboBooks
Smashwords
AllRomance

Or Paperback version:  CreateSpace

'The Night' on Boneyard Beach was over fifteen years ago, but for Jenna Sinkler it is replayed each time she closes her eyes. His hands touching her, the salt marsh taste of his lips, and the ultimate "first time" every girl dreams of.

In the real world, she's a New York City cop who feels like her world is close to tumbling down on her. When she steps blindly into her apartment for a quick shower and finds her culinary wizard boyfriend enjoying a naked blonde waitress on her blue sofa, she reacts. It's her reaction that sends her reeling with her tail between her legs back to the island in South Carolina where she spent every summer of her youth, including 'The Night' on Boneyard Beach.

Fifteen years ago Nicolas Talbot was an uncomplicated southern boy with dreams and a bright future. Now Jenna's making lists of why she and Nick should be as far away from one another as possible. But one question remains: was 'The Night' on Boneyard Beach a fluke, or was it truly as magical as they both believe? There's only one way to find out.

As Jenna falls head over heels in love with Nick again, the list of reasons why their relationship will never work begins to pile up. The fact that she lives in New Jersey and he in South Carolina is a major problem. But it doesn't take Jenna long to understand that may be the least of the problems. Nick's meddling Charleston family has harbored his secret for fifteen years, and she's beginning to wonder to what extent they would go to protect him.

Since 'The Night' on Boneyard Beach, no man has ever been good enough for Jenna, and no woman good enough for Nick. It seems as though they were meant for each other and no one else. But there had been someone else in Nick's life and now she's been found dead... on Boneyard Beach. Can Jenna overcome her mistrust for men enough to believe that Nick and his family had nothing to do with the mysterious death?

Shades of Shame

This is the PREQUEL to Semper Fi.  It is still being edited, and hope to be released the middle of May, 2013.

Okay, sort of book 2, but explains a little more about David and Elise McNarry, and the pivotal role Patricia Johnson plays in their lives.

Excerpt from the book.  Caution:  STEAMY!

The familiar sound of ice cubes hitting the empty Reed and Barton crystal glasses was a sad reminder that alcohol had become just about his only friend.  It seemed the only thing at this point in his life that didn’t take from him the last ounce of fortitude.

David McNarry had been almost pushed into politics, and the harsh reality of it certainly transformed this humble war hero and loving family man into something that even he barely recognized at this point.  Still, the life of politics certainly had its intoxicating aspects, and no matter what he said, he consumed it with a passion.

He slumped down into the overstuffed leather chair facing the huge plate glass windows that overlooked the streets of Washington.  These remarkable chairs were just another one of her ‘must haves’ when she redecorated his office, and she was right.  They provided the comfort and solitude the junior Senator needed to relax.  His pager, another one of her ‘must haves,’ was constantly buzzing on his belt.  He pulled the clip from his waist and placed it on the small table that sat exactly in between the two chairs next to the Swarovski crystal ash tray and in front of the telephone.  Damn, he thought, that thing will never stop.

Lindsay handed him his Aberlour Scotch as she passed by him, walking towards the window.  “You better answer it, or she’ll never stop paging you.”  He watched in silence as she slowly drew the heavy wool draperies closed, admiring her tight behind in the short black skirt in front of him.

Lindsay was his latest in a long list of interns, and if it weren’t for her tireless dedication and desire to advance, she wouldn’t even be there.  Of course, with her body, it was no wonder he asked her to stay late again tonight.  Sad thing was he didn’t even know her last name.  She brushed past him, her perfume mixing wonderfully with the smell of his cigar and scotch.  He heard the distinct sound of the door lock, and then a scuffle of papers on his desk.  David sat quietly sipping his scotch and smoking his cigar, oblivious to anything that she was doing.

A moment later she was standing next to him, holding the manila package in her hand.  He placed his drink on the table, and reached over the arm of the chair up the back of her leg.  Silk stockings, black, with a strong seam that ran up the back; his fingers barely touching her now as he slipped his hand up the inside of her thigh, feeling for the lace atop her stockings.  She dropped the package in his lap as he continued to tease her.  Her weight shifted as she moved her feet further apart, allowing him better access.  His nimble fingers running across the lace top before moving down her leg and ultimately out from under her skirt.  “What are you waiting for?” he asked as he slapped her behind.

She knew what he wanted.  It was the same thing every night.  He pulled on the cigar before opening the package.  The pager, buzzing again was about to drive him crazy.  Lindsay assumed her normal position on her knees in front of him, her hands sliding up his thighs.  He picked up the pager to shut it off when the message caught his attention.  “Call me now!”

“You want me to stop, sir?” Lindsay asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said as he glared at her.

David picked up the phone and hit speed dial #3.  It barely rang when she answered.  “It’s about fuckin’ time you called me.  Did you get the package?”

“Yeah, it’s here.”

“Well?  Did you even bother to open it?”

“Not yet.  Sort of…”

“God Damnit, David, this is fuckin’ serious.  I can’t keep cleaning up your messes.”  Patricia was more than a little upset, and she had no problem letting him know that.  She was the one person who didn’t treat him like he was gold.  She was the one person who he knew would always be straight with him.  “Do you understand what I mean?  They got you in pictures this time, asshole.”

“It’ll be fine, Patricia.  Calm down,” he said, peering over the package and watching Lindsay’s head bobbing up and down.  “Can I call you back in about fifteen minutes?

“You piece of shit!  She’s there right now, isn’t she?”

“No, no, no.  Of course not.”

She knew he was lying; she could hear it in his voice.  “You know, you really are a son of a bitch.  I’m on my way now to see Elise, remember her?  She’s your wife!”

“I know who she is,” he said, trying to stay focused.  “Just handle it.  Fix it.  Do your fuckin’ job.”

“I don’t know if I can fix this.  She’s pretty damn upset this time.  You stay at the Georgetown apartment and I’ll call you when and if she calms down.  You know, we’re about to start your reelection campaign.  This would be a lot easier if you pulled your pecker out of your intern and kept it in your pants!”

David hung the phone up and dropped the package on the floor.  Taking a big gulp of his scotch as Lindsay looked into his eyes.  He rolled the cigar in his mouth and said, “Continue.”