January 31, 2014

Friday Flames are giggling!


Today's special guest is none other than Funny Girl
Melodie Campbell

She's sharing an excerpt from her hit romantic comedy:

I screamed.

“Don’t kill him!”

Cedric turned to me. His eyes were that brilliant green that lacked soul. He sheathed his sword, and as he did, the dark green eyes returned to normal.

“I haven’t. He’s merely in a daze. It will pass in an hour.”

 He snorted then. “I could have killed him. I wanted to. Consider it my gift to you that I didn’t.”

I sat, immobile. The draw was starting up again, slow, insidious. As long as Cedric was occupied with defense, I could fight to keep my mind independent of his. But when he turned his full attention upon me…I shivered.

“He can’t kill me—none of them can kill me.” He spat in the direction of the body. “Do not think you’ll be rid of me, Rowena. I can’t be killed.”

Dear God, what did he mean by that? Was he no longer human?

He moved to the window with startling speed, eyes sweeping the land for riders. “I don’t blame you for this. I hardly blame him. You are too much a temptation. I need to get you back to Huel.”

He spun back, eyes on me again. I cried out from the pain of it and I felt his answering howl, as the draw shook him where he stood.

“Damn the gods! How can I hold my powers at bay with you so close—“

He was across the room in a second, down on the floor over me, gathering me to him. The pain gave way to unbelievable release—not joy, oh no, never joy—but like a cage of pain being ripped away. I didn’t try to resist it. No, I didn’t resist his hand in my hair, his lips on my throat moving down and down. Already, my legs were moving apart, betraying the thoughtless, helpless creature I was becoming.

His mouth moved down further and I let him, dear God, I welcomed it, his mouth on my skin, knowing me, claiming me, and then…

I jerked and cried out when he entered me. He roared like a lion, pulled back, then burst forward again, and I grabbed his tunic hard and pulled. The cloth ripped in my hands, and I heard him laugh like a demon. His face came down on mine, and we were drowning, fighting for air, and I let go—gave in to the madness, and the waves roared, and the room pitched, and I was one with something greater than human—

The room was still now. I opened my eyes. Cedric was sitting cross-legged beside me on the floor with concern on his face. Concern?

“I lost you for a time there,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

This was an old Cedric—a Cedric from before the magic had ruled him.

Melodie Campbell achieved a personal best this year when Library Journal compared her to Janet Evanovich.  She has over 200 publications, including 100 comedy credits, 40 short stories, and 5 novels. She has won 6 awards for fiction and is the Executive Director of Crime Writers of Canada.
ROWENA AND THE DARK LORD, book 2 in the Land’s End series, is NOW AVAILABLE
ROWENA THROUGH THE WALL, book 1 in the Land’s End series “Hot and hilarious!” (Midwest Book Review)

Please feel free to share a HOT excerpt of your own (don't forget buy links) or comment on what you've read. 

Have a blistering day!

January 23, 2014

Shot Through the Heart

A new Western Romance has hit the virtual shelves and it looks to be a great one!

If you’re a lover of cowboys, you’ll want to grab this up. For a limited time, it’s on sale for $0.99 cents!! 


Blurb: Laramie Porter has tried to get her drug-addicted brother help, but he’s refused every time. When she finds her sister-in-law —and her best friend— murdered, Laramie vows to have him convicted. 

Before Laramie can flee, her brother takes her and his wife’s body into the mountains and throws them from a cliff. Somehow, Laramie lands on a ledge. After what her brother has done, she doesn’t want to ever believe in another man, but Derrick earns her trust when he protects her from the man who would see her dead.

To cover up the evidence of his crime, Lawrence starts a wildfire.

Derrick Garrison is through with women after he learns his ex-wife was a bigamist who only wanted his money. Believing a lightning strike started a wildfire, he’s pushing his cattle out of harm’s way when he discovers a woman huddled on a cliff side. Derrick can’t believe the same sheriff who helped bring his ex to justice murdered his wife. But when the cocaine addicted lawman tracks Laramie through a raging fire, attempting to kill them both, Derrick becomes a true believer. His protective instinct kicks in and he falls in love with the woman in danger.

Together, they survive the fire, the attempts on their lives and a bounty on their heads…to see justice served. And fall in love.

Bio: Falling in love with romance novels the summer before sixth grade, D’Ann Lindun never thought about writing one until many years later when she took a how-to class at her local college. She was hooked! She began writing and never looked back. 

Romance appeals to her because there's just something so satisfying about writing a book guaranteed to have a happy ending. D’Ann’s particular favorites usually feature cowboys and the women who love them. This is probably because she draws inspiration from the area where she lives, Western Colorado, her husband of twenty-nine years and their daughter. 

Composites of their small farm, herd of horses, five Australian shepherds, a Queensland heeler, two ducks, and cats of every shape and color often show up in her stories!

Buy it here:  Amazon

She loves to hear from readers! Please contact her at:


January 21, 2014

No fork required for this waffle

I have a critique partner who writes amazing historical Scottish Highland romance. She’s yet unpublished, but I know she'll soon find her place in the literary world.

As with all new writers, and I was no different, she’s waffling in indecision of whether to pursue publication via Traditional with an agent, Indie publishers, or Self-publish on her own.

While that may not mean much to readers because, after all, you just want to read the damn book, this is one of the toughest decisions a new author faces after entering the writing world.

There’s no going back to restart the beginning of your career. There are no do-overs — not unless you reinvent yourself under a new name, that is. This decision will set your course for the next few years, if not longer.

She asked what I thought, and I told her it’s a crap shoot. It depends on a variety of things:

v  What you’re willing to give or take
v  How much time and money you can invest
v  If you’re willing to educate yourself  (which relates to the bullet point above)

I started out by seeking an agent to represent me. With suggestions of a few published author friends, I submitted my work to ePublishers. I made the choice to take a chance on a new Indie publisher when a contract was offered.

Folks, some gambles just don’t pay off. It’s part of the crap shoot. The new ePublisher closed their doors unexpectedly four days after Remedy Maker hit the virtual shelves. I'd been a signed author for less than six months.

Ouch – reality bites.

For every new author, there’s a different answer on which way to throw your career dart. I don’t think one publishing method fits all. Perhaps multiple streams of publication is the answer.

I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure it out.

Maybe the mighty Zoltar has the answer.

Have you been affected by the rise and fall of an Indie publisher? Has Self-publication been overwhelming and not what you thought it would be? Are you happy to write your stories and let your agent or Traditional publication house handle the rest?

I’d love to hear your opinion of the world of publication — pro, con, or indifferent. 

January 19, 2014

The Underdog

(c) Flicker

How could I have forgotten to announce this?

Find out why I root for the underdog and let me know what dark horse you cheer on! 

I'm at Daryl Devore's - click HERE

See ya soon!

January 17, 2014

Going Vane on Friday Flames

(The Devil DeVere #5) 
Victoria Vane
Having once lived his life only for larks, laughter, and ladies of easy virtue, Captain Simon Singleton has returned from the war with the colonies a shambles of a man. Now free from six years of captivity, he's still fettered by irrational fears that confine him to a life of seclusion.   
Once the crowning jewel of the most lavish brothel in London, the exotic Salime finds her reputation and livelihood destroyed by a bitter rival. With a closely guarded secret stripped away, Salime fears no man will ever desire her again. Seeking aid from one who once saved her life, Salime accepts a proposition to repay her debt by becoming a companion to his war-scarred friend.  

 Circumstance brings these two damaged souls together; but fate ignites a love story worthy of the Arabian Nights.


He fisted his hands in her silky hair, pleading between ragged breaths, "Please Salime. You must stop."

She slid him from her mouth and squeezed the head of his sex. Although his chest still heaved with the effort of holding back, the urgency abated.

"You need not fight it," she spoke in a sultry whisper. "I wish you to take your pleasure from me."

Suppressing a groan, he closed his hand over hers, freeing it from his phallus. "After all I have said to you, is this all you think I desire? For you to service me like…like a …"

A look of pain flashed in her eyes. "You do not enjoy such pleasures? In my experience it is what all men most desire."

"I am not other men," he growled, "and I don't want you to think of me in that way. I thought… Bloody hell! Am I just like them to you? Do you feel nothing more for me? I need to know, Salime, do you really desire me? Or do you only act out of your obligation to DeVere—"

Although she’d been with many men, none but Simon had ever inspired her desire. How could he not know this? She longed to feel his kisses, to see passion blazing in his eyes as he moved inside her.
She cut him off, bringing his hand to her breast and placing it over her heart. Rising on her toes, she whispered against his lips, "Can you not tell when a woman's desire is real? Do you not feel this beneath your hand? It gallops." She slid their joined hands to the center of her chest. "And my lungs struggle to catch up with my racing heart."

He drew in a sharp breath when she moved still lower, guiding his hand over the plane of her belly… and lower yet, sucking in a breath with a guttural sound, when she stopped at the apex of her thighs. It was a heady thing, how powerfully the simplest touch affected him.

She pressed his palm into her mons. "And this? Do you not feel the wetness weeping from my womanhood? Do you not know this sign? I burn for you, Simon. Only for you."

His grey eyes had grown almost black. Almost instantly he cupped her nape, claiming and branding her with a new urgency she was helpless to resist. His hands were everywhere, mapping her body, caressing her breasts, cupping her arse, sliding between her legs, while mercilessly marauding her mouth. She dug her fingers into his hair, grinding against him with aching loins. The friction of his engorged sex sent shocks of pleasure to her core.

She cried out. He swallowed the sound with his own hoarse moan, lifting her against his tumescent sex. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, and he carried her to her bed, where they tumbled headlong onto it. Limbs tangled, bodies sliding, they reveled in slick friction, and plummeted deeper into pleasure. He rolled on top of her, caging her with his hard and hot body. Bringing one hand between them, he positioned his hard member into her folds, rocking his hips slowly, coating himself in her juices. His cadence increased, his hips thrusting, his thumb circling and massaging her hooded bud. His mouth came down on her neck, sucking and biting, his breath hot and humid on her skin.

 "I want to watch your eyes when I plunge into you, Salime. After that, I want to take you like the heathens and in every conceivable way. Salime… Salime," he murmured her name. Seductive and hypnotic, it fell from his lips. "I've never wanted a woman as I want you."

The symphony of sensation created by his hands, his mouth, his sex against hers, was exquisite. Mind-numbing, but it was still not enough. The emptiness was excruciating, the ache agonizing.
She grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked. "Still so many words? You talk too mu—"
She gasped as he pierced her, impaling himself deeply inside her in one smooth, hard thrust.


Victoria Vane is an award-winning romance novelist and history junkie whose works range from wildly comedic romps to emotionally compelling and intensely erotic romance. Victoria also writes historical fiction as Emery Lee and is the founder of Goodreads Romantic Historical Fiction Lovers and the Romantic Historical Lovers book review blog. Look for Victoria's sexy new contemporary cowboy series coming in summer 2014.

Author Website: http://www.victoriavane.com
DeVere Fan Site: http://thedevildevere.com
Author Blog: http://victoriavane.wordpress.com
Facebook: Author Victoria Vane
Twitter: @authorvictoriav


A Wild Night's Bride (book#1)

The Virgin Huntress, (book#2)

The Devil You Know (book#3)

The Devil's Match, (book#4) August 2012

January 8, 2014

I'm visiting with Rosanna Leo today!

My good friend Rosanna Leo kindly allowed me to boast on her blog today. I hope you'll all stop by!

Rosanna Leo's Room: Welcome Sheri Fredricks!: It has been some time since I've been able to welcome the wonderful Sheri Fredricks to my blog, and I'm so pleased she has swung by.

January 3, 2014

Chance Encounters on Friday Flames

Friday Flames welcomes Martha O'Sullivan!

Chance Encounter, the second installment in the Chances trilogy, by Martha O’Sullivan
In Second Chance, star-crossed lovers Brian Rembrandt and Lindsay Foster get a second chance at love. And their wedding beneath the twinkling stars of Lake Tahoe serves as the perfect backdrop for another match made in heaven. But it’s more complicated than that…

The last thing Delaney Richards was looking for in Lake Tahoe was love. The long hours at the office were finally paying off—she could all but feel the vice-presidency in her bones. She was counting on this week in San Francisco to seal the deal. But first she had to get through Lindsay’s wedding—Delaney’s first since her own. Almost wedding, that is. You can’t have a wedding without a groom.
Captain Mike Savoy hadn’t counted on seeing Delaney Richards again at his best friend’s wedding, let alone find himself falling in love with her.  Now he has to convince her that the feeling is mutual—and permanent. But the past can be a killer. And the only way Mike can ensure a future with her is to send her away. To survive, Delaney must trust the heart that once betrayed her.

 Excerpt from Chance Encounter

      Her ensuing words made that nearly impossible. “You’ll be the first man to touch me that way. Now I wish you were the only man to touch me at all.”

     Mike swallowed the shock and wondered if she could feel him hardening behind the zipper. “As long as I’m the last.”   

     She responded by silently backing up into the bedroom and reaching behind her. A second later the dress fell to the floor. “I’ve been waiting all night to show you what’s under my dress.”

     He supposed the foghorns still boomed from the bridge, the seals continued to bark on the pier, the cars buzzed along on the street below. But Mike’s mind discounted all that. In his head, his hands were already running down Delaney’s tawny shoulders. They lingered at the curve of her breasts before pausing on her svelte waist and then resting on her willowy hips.  
     And his cock wasn’t far behind.

     He shut the French doors behind him and loosened his collar.  “I’ve been waiting all night to see what’s under your dress.” 

   “I told you,” she tantalized. “Didn’t you believe me?”

     He cast aside his suit coat. “Oh, I believed you. That’s why I’ve been waiting all night.”

     By mid-stride, he felt himself being yanked under her spell. By the time he reached her, his hands felt claw-like against the buttons of his shirt. Hers, on the other hand, were as agile as a cat’s. “You seemed oddly patient.” She wended her slender fingers down the shirt, holding him with a wolfish smile all the while. “I was beginning to wonder.”

     “You’ll never have to wonder about that.” Tipping point reached and passed, he grabbed her wrists. “If I’d had my way, I would’ve taken you in the elevator.” He ripped the shirt off before she could finish, busting the two bottom buttons in the process. He made quick work of his pants, then lassoed her waist. Seizing her mouth, he straddled her to his middle. Her delta felt as hot and wet as her mouth tasted.

     And he couldn’t wait to prove it.

     He carried her to the bed and laid her down. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw his burgeoning erection. Wholehearted superlatives echoed on her lips as she extended her arms, inviting his wielding body to hers.

    Suddenly Mike didn’t know what to do with his eyes, his hands, his mouth. He was still trying to collect himself when Delaney entreated in a concerned whisper. “Mike, come to me.”

     “Not until you cum first,” he decided out loud.  Kneeling, he pried her creamy legs apart and pressed his ravenous mouth to her triangle. He burrowed his face into her buttery pleats and began to lick. Long, lazy strokes at first, then short, quick ones. Rabid now, he couldn’t get enough of her sweet poison.

     And the feeling was clearly mutual.

     Her head shot up like a piston as he began devouring her. The rest of her fell back on the bed, allowing him access to all her folds. Her fingers curled the bed sheets as his tongue explored her every crease and crevice of her fleshy core.

     With excruciating precision.

    He felt her begin to unravel even before his name was audible. Stitch by stich he took her higher until, her spindle barren, she broke free. Her flailing hands froze in his hair as she surrendered to his unspoken pleas. Drenching him and quaking, she purred and peaked, nearly taking him with him.    
     Kissing his way, Mike rested his head on her stomach. Her pulse was quickening in her abdomen and the shallow breaths in her chest were strangulated. She was still reeling in the orgasm, he self-congratulated.  And he was still wallowing in giving it to her.

     Her eyes fluttered open. “That was amazing.” Her voice was blissfully exhausted. “I loved it.”

     He crawled up to her. “I loved tasting every inch of you,” he told her around a gallant kiss.

      Returning the sentiment, she eased him aside and started shimmying down the king-size bed.  “Now let me return the favor.”

     “Laney.” He caught her arm. “I won’t last long.”

     “Good.” She left him with a naughty nod. His cock was leaking readiness and she used it to bring him to her. She gripped him at the base of his throbbing shaft and took all of him in her mouth. Then she began to suck.

     Her prepossessing mouth was like a finely-tuned machine. Her cheeks hollowed out, her lips clenched, her fingers joggled.

     And Mike’s body went slack for the want.

     His groans filled the air as she engorged him. He felt his midsection jolt forward, his neck snap back, his eyes roll in his head. It was a titillation like he’d never known. And it was the only thing that could rival being inside her.

     And still she sucked. 

     He could feel the pressure intensifying, the meter pounding, the flow building.  He was already hard enough to make love to her. It was now or never.

     After a brief internal debate, he tapped her head.

    She slithered up to him with a contented smile and fiery eyes.

     He positioned her on her side next to him and entered her from behind. Their low growls merged into a hedonic moan as the tip of him met her saturated cavern. Pressing his palms against her breasts, Mike bent his knees and pushed against her. She encircled his neck with her arms and they fell into an instinctual, mellifluous rhythm. Back and forth they swayed, her head tucked into the groove of his shoulder and the small of her back grinding against his stomach. He heard her baiting breaths against his cheek, her burning appeals in his ear. And just as he felt the judder of her orgasm, he drained himself into her.

Find Martha O'Sullivan here:

January 1, 2014

A Flaming Happy New Year!

Happy New year! 

I hope you found whatever it is you were looking for in 2013. 
If it just didn't happen for you, here's 2014!

Japanese proverb: Fall down seven times, stand up eight.  

I'm trying like heck to finish the third book in my shapeshifter Centaur Series, so I apologize for the sporadic posts of Friday Flames.

One of my goals for the New Year is to not only finish and publish this book, but to get back in shape to where I was a few years ago.

 I'm looking forward to:  * good times ahead
                                          * opportunities to meet readers and other writers
                                          * some badly needed rain - God willing

Do you have goals for 2014? Do you make resolutions?
Leave a comment and let me know!