CAUTION: Brainstorming session in progress

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Wednesday, September 28, 2011

A Dance with Bogie and Bacall

Coming October 10th from Noble Romance Publishing, my sweet romance "A Dance with Bogie and Bacall."

Radio DJ Scott Kincaid's first caller of the night is a lady who died forty-nine years ago. The second wants to knock his head off. And he thought falling in love would be easy.
Maureen and Frank Johnson shared the kind of romance most people believe only exists in movies. Until a ballroom fire took Maureen's life.

Franci Johnson grew up hearing her grandparents' love story a thousand times, and wishes to find the kind of undying love Frank and Maureen did.

Radio DJ, Scott Kincaid, just wants the ghost following him to go away. But Maureen thinks the hunky DJ just might be the answer to her granddaughter's dreams . . . .

Noble Romance Buy Link

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Random Musings

An unyielding opinion is far too easy to step around. But that's just my opinion.

Monday, September 19, 2011

9/19/11 Release Day - Catherine's Toys II - by KevaD

The second installment in the "Catherine's Toys" gay horror serial is out as of today!
Here's the blurb and a short excerpt. I thank all of you for the success of the first installment, and I hope you enjoy the continued insanity of "Catherine's Toys II".


Casey wants Catherine to accept his love for her.
Catherine wants the Russian dancer in the hospital's surgical wing.
Casey and Catherine both want Larry the security guard, but for very different reasons.
And neither reason bodes well for Larry.

Noble Romance Publishing Buy Link


Casey hopped across the floor on one foot while trying to get the other damn shoe on.
"You look ridiculous." Catherine snarled.
The apartment's exterior wall stopped his one-legged kangaroo stroll. Elbow on the window ledge, he ran his index finger inside the back support of the shoe. The slip-on canvas shoe finally slipped on. Casey beamed in triumph.
"Will you hurry up? I need to get to work."
Casey stomped his freshly shoed foot on the carpeted floor. "You just want to find a man to have sex with."
"Yeah. So what? I'm horny. Women get horny too, Casey. It's not just some guy thing. That shouldn't be news to you by now. Gawd! It's been over two months since the last time, and then you fucked that one all up. I can't even remember the last time I came."
"The Russian dancer." He mumbled. "The one with the shoulder surgery."
"Myka." She purred the name. "Oh yeah. How could I forget him? What a chest! A little on the small side, but when he blew his load I thought he'd blow a hole out the back of my head."
"Stop it!"
"Aww. Is widdle Casey jeawous?"
"Maybe. A little."
But not for reasons he'd ever share with her. Myka was as lean as Larry, the hospital security guard. Probably as muscular too. Maybe. Their forearms looked a lot alike anyway.
He lowered his head, walked over to the white, iron-framed bed, and gazed at Catherine so neatly sprawled over the Asian lily duvet. "You could have sex with me." His voice a near whimper, he scowled at his inability to win her full affection. "I love you, Catherine. I'd do anything for you."
"Oh, Casey," she whispered in her throaty way. "I adore you. And I do love you, but the harsh reality is you don't turn me on."
He thrust his arms out wide. "What's wrong with me? What can I do to make you want me?"
Her tone went spilled cream flat and just as sour. "You don't have love handles, for chrissakes, you've got an inner tube with a hole in it. I like a man with abs, not one who looks like he gave birth last week. Get your butt in gear or I'll be late. You know how I hate being late."
Yeah. He knew all too well. She'd punished him before for his tardiness. But he really wanted her right now. And yeah, he wasn't one of those steroid-ridden freaks of nature, but the thought of Catherine with another man when he was here for her taking ate at his skin like termites on wood. He had to do something—he unzipped his jeans.
"Casey," she said, her voice stern. "We don't have time for this."
He opened the flap of his tighty whities and flopped out his limp dick. "You want to go fuck some other guy, fuck me first."
"I'm not kidding, Casey."
"Me either," he growled, and then smiled. He was actually standing up to her. His chest and confidence swelled.
"I said no."
"And I said yes." He fisted his dick, stroked the length of it. Blood raced into his pale white cock. The helmet flushed rose. By the sudden burning in his face, his cheeks no doubt matched his cockhead. "Fuck me or we can stay right here, and you'll miss work altogether."
"I'm not going to fuck you, so get that right out of your pigeon-sized brain." She sighed. "But I suppose I can make you come, if you promise to take me to work as soon as we're done."
"Deal." He threw back his shoulders in pride to display his victory.
"You little shit." She grabbed his growing erection. "You are so going to pay for this."

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Random Musings

All things considered, I think I'd rather die guilty than innocent, have sex in the flowers rather than smell them, and never have need of a "wish list."

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Male Order – Reigning Men book One - Lillian Grant

Sleeping with her flatmate, Sam had been a mistake—becoming a strip club manager's pimp was a disaster

Blurb: Meg’s mother can't even say the word sex. Her great aunt is a nymphomaniac. The few men she’s slept with left her frustrated.  The closest she’s come to sex was as the unwitting visual aid for hot flatmate, Sam’s, cowboy style, wanking session. No wonder her libido went on permanent vacation and she substitutes ice-cream and chocolate for sex.

With so many hang ups, why does she agree to no strings sex with Sam? Why is hunky, strip club manager Michael bent on seducing her? And why the hell does she invest in a male escort business offering extra services?

Sam’s delighted when he convinces Meg to let him go looking for her missing G spot. A ride on his wild stallion shows her how good sex can be...with the right man. One encounter leads to a dozen. Sam is living every man’s dream, sex with no commitment, too bad it’s not his dream.

His new life turns nightmare when Michael enters the scene. Will the Irishman steal her away, or will his involvement in her Male Order business lead to a disaster that gives Sam a chance to prove to Meg their relationship is more than a sexual rodeo?

A dull thud, thud, thud accompanied by yells of, “Yeehaw, ride ‘em cowboy,” made Meg roll her eyes and sigh loudly.
“For fuck sake, can you keep it down in there, literally?”
Laura glanced at her, then back at the bedroom door. “What’s he doing?”
Meg shook her head. “You don’t want to know.” She shuddered with mock horror at the memory.
“Really? Oh, please tell me, or I’ll have to go find out for myself.”
Laura got to her feet, a wicked gleam in her dark brown eyes. Geez, she would, too. Not that the sight of Sam laid back in a reclining chair, wearing only a cowboy hat and white socks, with his hand wrapped around his dick, jacking off like it was an Olympic sport, would freak her friend out. Hell no, she’d probably offer to ride him. She wasn’t about to let that happen. Sam was too good for the likes of Laura. He deserved a girl a little fussier about where she slept.
Meg jumped up and grabbed Laura’s arm, spilling coffee down the front of her own white shirt in the process. Shit, why couldn’t she do anything without making a mess of herself?
“If I tell you, will you sit back down and promise never to mention it to Sam?”
Laura retook her seat, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, this is going to be really good.”
Meg glanced at the bedroom door. Despite her yelling at him to shut up, yips of pleasure still reached the lounge room.
“Go, baby, ride em. You got it.”
She looked back at Laura then stared at a slice of salami on the coffee table. It must be from the pizza Sam had after she went to bed last night. What a slob. An extremely well endowed slob, but a slob nonetheless.
“Well? Are you going to tell me or not?”
Meg sighed. “He’s jacking off.”
Laura snorted coffee all over the place. Choking, she banged her chest, tears streaming down her face. If Laura died from asphyxiation, she sure as hell wasn’t telling the paramedics Sam’s wanking caused her death.
Between gasping breaths Laura squeaked, “And you found this out how?”
Meg shrugged nonchalantly. No big deal really. He liked to jack off, a lot, and she wanted to see what had him yelling. How was she supposed to know what he was doing in there? She could feel the heat rising to her face at the memory.
She had shoved the door open and there he lay in all his glory, reclining chair toward her. The moment they made eye contact, a huge grin spread across his face as he continued to pummel his dick.
The thought of that monster in his hand still made her panties dampen and her insides throb. The head red and engorged, the shaft decorated with bulging veins, heavy balls bunched up tight between his widespread thighs. She’d been unable to move until he groaned and shot his wad all over his stomach. The memory of his warm spunk spilling from his cock made her squirm in her seat.
The spell had finally been broken when he winked at her, asking if she wanted to take a turn on his trusty steed. She had turned tail and run out of the house. Hiding in the mall for hours dressed in her food stained hot pink sweats and matching fluffy slippers.
“I went to check on him one afternoon when he got to yelling and I found him sitting in his chair jacking off. Anyway, I thought you were here to talk about work?”
Laura leaned forward, her face flushed. “So you’re not even going to tell me if he’s hung like a horse?”
Having Laura over was a mistake, she made no secret of the fact she liked Sam. Always going on about his buff body and rippling abs. No way was she going to add anything else to her best friend’s fantasy life, she already had an overactive imagination.
Despite all but chasing after him with drool running down her chin, Sam had shown no interest in her. She wondered why. With her heart-shaped face, willowy figure and immaculately styled long blonde hair, most men found her irresistible. Now she thought about it, Sam hadn’t just ignored her not so subtle advances but, as far as Meg remembered, the only dates he had since he moved in were with his right hand. Even if the women he met hadn’t seen him in all his naked glory, his cute smile and pale blue eyes would win him many loyal fans. They had sure as hell worked on her when he turned up in response to the landlord’s advertisement for someone to flat share with her. She glanced at Laura, who was wrapping a fat blonde curl around her finger and staring at her waiting for an answer.
Meg shrugged. “More like My Little Pony.” She was shocked at how easily and convincingly the lie slipped out without guilt or hesitation. “Now, can we please get back to our discussion?”
With a shrug, Laura put her coffee cup on the side table and pulled a pad and pen out of her bag. “Okay, we need a slogan for Wonder Bites.”
“I thought we did that already?”
“I ran them by Bill. His exact words were ‘you girls better get your shit together or you’ll be wearing sandwich boards advertising condoms in a brothel’.”
“Such a lovely turn of phrase, no wonder he’s in marketing. So did he hate both of them? I thought yours truly sucked. ‘Wonder Bites, good all the way from your mouth to the pan’.” She giggled at Laura as she pouted in response to her teasing.
“I was focusing on the health aspects of the cereal. Anyway you can’t talk. You would hardly win the Clio Award for advertising slogans with ‘Wonder Bites smell funky but taste real good’.”
“They do smell funky. I was just being honest. I’m getting sick of all the bullshit.” Meg stretched out the length of the couch and stared at the ceiling. She’d become fed up with peddling crap in New South Wales’ least successful ad agency. How many more lies could she couch in catchy slogans to sell garbage no one wanted? If only she had a product she believed in, or a job she enjoyed. “Laura, have you ever thought about doing something else for a living?”
“Every day, hun, I’ve even researched what else I could do with my skills.”
A kernel of an idea had been growing in Meg’s brain for weeks. Maybe Laura wouldn’t laugh if she told her. “I was thinking of going out on my own. You know, setting up my own business.”
“Doing what?”
Meg sighed. “That’s the big problem.”
Laura leaned forward into Meg’s peripheral vision. “Funny you should mention starting your own business. I’ve been thinking the same thing and I might just have an idea we could both use.”
The door to Sam’s room banged open. Meg glanced over at Laura. She’d lost her attention. Turning her head a little further, she could see why. There he stood. Skin glistening with sweat, his only attire a less than adequate white towel slung low on his hips and a cowboy hat on his head. Every step he took revealed the full length of his thigh, but thankfully not the full length of anything else.
He grinned at them, flashing a perfect set of pearly whites. “Ladies, what are you two plotting now?”
Meg crossed her arms over her chest. “How to kill noisy flat mates.”
She didn’t need to look to know he had moved closer. The scent of fresh sweat and musky cologne tickling her nose announced his arrival. His voice growled in her ear. “I think you enjoy hearing me almost as much as you enjoyed watching me. Maybe if you got out more you wouldn’t find my private life so stimulating. Unless you do really want me, but you’re too sexually repressed to let go.”
His face hovered above hers. Screw him. Why did he have to look so damn good when he had that smug expression on his mug? His blue eyes twinkled with amusement, his full lips quivered with barely contained laughter.
“For someone so ready to hand out dating advice, I can’t say I’ve noticed you being so lucky with the ladies of late.”
“Maybe I’m waiting for the right jockey.”
Meg grinned at him. “Or maybe you can’t find a jockey small enough to enjoy the ride.”
Her jibe missed the mark. He laughed before bending forward and brushing his lips against hers. His breath tickled her neck, making her shiver, as he whispered, “Perhaps you should slide in the saddle one night and take me through my paces. Then you would find out just how big my stallion really is.”
Hands on his shoulders, she shoved him away. It wasn’t the first time he had kissed her, but this time it had felt more intimate. Not the usual friendly peck and definitely part of his teasing. “Fuck off, Sam. We’re trying to work here.”

Monday, September 5, 2011

A Not So Random Musing

I once thought the brass ring was to become a "published author."
I was wrong.
The brass ring is the reader who smiles or sheds a tear while reading a writer's story.
Thank you to all the readers and writers who have touched my life.