Wednesday, June 13th, 2012
Had the best time at Lori Foster’s Annual Readers and Authors Get Together. Sharing a few pix with y’all.
Here are all the authors who attended. That’s me 4th from the right in row 2. For those of you who read Sherrilyn Kenyon she’s the first on the right in row 2.
With two of my most favorite people and fabulous authors, band new Ellora’s Cave authors Gayle Donnelly and robyn McKenzie
Here I am with Valerie Mann and Kate Richards from Decadent Publishing and Wizards in Pubishing
With reviewer extraordinaire Drea Becraft
Breakfast with my buds, including Gayle and Robyn, super duper editor in chief Kelli Collins, NYT Bestselling author Jane Rylon, Jambrea Jo Jones, Dana Marie Bell. Lots of fun.
Me as Darling Donna Tortellini at Duffy Brown’s Speakeasy on Thursday night.
Ellora’sCave authors attending with our editor-inpchief Kelli Collins.
Getting a hug from hot author Paige Tyler
Setting up Friday night to sell my Holt Medallion winner JOY RIDE. Sold out in an hour. Yay!
At breakfast with Jayne Rylon (still trying to wake up!!!!!
And with Drea Becraft who won my basket.
Had te totally best time. Mark your calendar for it next June. And thanks to Lori Foster and Duffy Brown who did such an incredible job.
Friday, May 18th, 2012
Note: leave a comment to be entered in the drawing. Giving away an ebook and a hot pink water bottle.
We all believe we’re in control of our lives. We control who we see, what we eat, to a great extent our activities. Even the people we interact with. But what happens when someone’s life is dumped into a mixer and set on spin cycle? When events happen around them? People react differently? Danger creeps in? Which one of us really knows how to handle that?
Dana Moretti thought she had a choke hold on her life. Ever since that day twenty five years ago when her sister Kylie was killed right next to her, when the child predator who’d taken them nearly killed her, she’d felt frozen inside. Even though her parents pulled up stakes and moved far away, the change of environment didn’t help Nor did all the years of counseling.
She’s become a successful writer of true crime books but she’s finally convinced that she’ll never get better psychologically unless she returns to the scene of the crime The predator was never caught, and from what little she gleaned the while thing was swept under the rug. The small town of High Ridge, Texas, could never believe one of its own had committed such a heinous crime.
Her arrival generates a lot of emotion. Resentment and hostility on the part of the population and a sudden rush of attraction between Dana and the hot hunky sheriff. She plods methodically along, trying to find as thread to pull that will unwind everything, when a new killing spree begins. Only Dana and the sheriff, Cole Landry, think it might be the predator again, someone people see in town every day who’s been living in their midst all this time.
That’s when things start spinning out of control for Dana. More bodies turn up, her rental is trashed, and what she feels for Cole scares her to death.
Here’s what reviewers had to say about Out of Control:
Out Of Control is a fast paced contemporary, romantic, suspense novel that will leave you wondering who the killer is in a town full of possible suspects. Ms. Holt leaves just enough clues to point at several characters and each time you interact with them within the pages of Out Of Control you will probably get a little shiver at the back of your neck wondering.
As one has come to expect from Desiree Holt, this is a powerful story that draws the reader in from the very first paragraph, with compelling characters, and fast-paced action.
One word for Desiree Holt’s Out of Control is beware. This is not your usual Desiree Holt book. It’s packed with death, suspense and murder with a sick, twisted killer that is still on the loose. It amazes me how a woman like Dana Moretti who has lived so much in her life can still be haunted by her past. What got to me in this book was not that it was filled with suspense and death, it’s the way Desiree Holt gets you into the book. I started reading this at midnight and couldn’t put it down for a second. I applaud Desiree Holt for creating a serial killer that even now still blows my mind away and how badly Dana just wanted to be normal like every other woman. The killer is still loose and the killings that occur in the book just prove how devious and clever Desiree Holt’s brain can become. This is not for a reader who thinks this is just a romance book. It’s far more than that for it is packed with murder, suspense and serial killer that will blow your mind. This is more than just a 5 angel book, it deserves an 11.
The scenes are well written, with compassion and feeling. The sex scenes are descriptive yet leave enough to the imagination to make them believable. Carrie/Dana is such an amazingly well written character with depth, feeling and believability. With everything that she has been through and all the baggage that she carries around with her also gives her the lovability factor. Cole is an amazing character always giving and supporting Dana through her time of self discovery allowing her to open up and live again. The twists and turns keep the reader captivated, while the characters make the reader feel everything that is happening. Put that with amazing writing and a great story-line and who wouldn’t want to read it.
Also at The Wild Rose Press, All Romance eBooks, Bookstrand, Deisel, Fictionwise.
And be sure to follow me on Twitter @desireeholt and Facebook Desiree Holt
Monday, May 14th, 2012
IS THAT A GUN IN YOUR POCKET?
By Cerise DeLand out now for 99 cents until May 15th at
A Sheriff, A Hot Gal and his gun.
What’s a girl to do when she has the hots for the local sheriff—and he’s playing it cool? Mae Montaine knows the man has a gun in his pocket and he’s always happy to see her.
So why won’t he come over and see her sometime…for a date? A hug? A kiss? More?
West Farraday yearns for the All-American knock-out who lives next door, but Mae’s got problems and secrets. He’d love to help her out…of her problems. And her clothes. Then into his bed.
When timing seems right, West makes his move. He’s happier than a colt in clover.
Mae’s skeptical they can make it as a couple. After all, town gossip says the good sheriff is hard on the ladies.
But when three bad coyotes invade Mae’s life, West tries to prove to her that a man who’s hard in the sack can be easy to love.
Excerpt: (Copyright 2012, Cerise DeLand. All rights reserved.)
August in Texas meant crispy grass, drought and wild fires—and West Farraday had no desire to see his house burn to the ground.Where was that smoke coming from?
He lifted his nose and tracked the smell of charcoal, then startled when he saw red flames rise over the top of his tall wooden fence.
A barbeque pit out of control? Not good!
“Aw, hell!” No need to think. He’d learned from previous incidents that his new neighbor was an East Coast gal with no clue how to survive in Texas. Hightailing it into his kitchen, he pulled open the pantry door and grabbed the fire extinguisher. He pivoted, broke into a run, charged through his gate and darted for the tiny house next door.
Mae Montaine. Mae from New Jersey. Mae of the flowing, dark-chocolate hair and aquamarine eyes. Mae of the creamy skin, the voluptuous breasts and curvy legs. The fillings in his molars melted every time she sashayed past him. Mae, that gorgeous klutz, had gotten herself in a pickle again. And he was her handy dandy neighbor, ready at the draw.
Jumping her waist-high chain-link fence, he instantly saw her problem. Not only was she staring at the leaping fire in her potbellied grill, but she jumped up and down, screeching, doing nothing to contain the blaze.
“Move!” he yelled at her as he thrust one arm out and pushed her behind him. Then he let loose with the foam, dousing the five-foot tall flames and cursing beneath his breath.
He spun to check where Mae’s niece was. There. He breathed more easily. In her playpen by the door stood little Emma, grinning her welcome to him.
“Oh, oh, that’s wonderful,” Mae cooed in the raspy contralto that ignited wild fires along his spine and had him stealing a glimpse of her loveliness. “That’s terrific. I didn’t know what to do. I had no idea. How did this happen? Who knew? Oh, you are so good to do this. How can I ever thank you?”
I know one way. “Don’t think about it,” he offered as he continued to spray the flames, keeping his gaze on the fire even if his mind sizzled with the glimpse he’d gotten of her skimpy top and shorts.
“I don’t know what I did wrong. I was so careful.” She fretted and fumed, her firm breasts brushing his arm as she leaned forward to peer at his efforts. “I’m so grateful you even noticed.”
He snorted. How could I not? “I was home. Outside working on my lawn. This could have been a real disaster.”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a wee voice. “I thought I knew how to do this. Build a fire, that is. You must think I’m a mess.”
“Truly?” He threw her a smile and the one he got in return dissolved his urge to scold her. The most gorgeous mess I’ve ever seen. “A bit accident prone.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said beneath her breath. “I don’t know what I would do without you. I guess you’re used to saving people. Sheriffs do that, don’t they? You’ve saved me so many times now.”
“That many? Maybe so. There was the nail in my tire.”
“Your kitchen faucet blew its gasket,” he reminded her, recalling Mae Montaine appearing at his front door last Sunday morning in a white cotton sundress wet from nipples to knees. One look at her display and his legs had turned into feathers. He’d had to brace himself against his door jamb at the sight of her asking for help. Every one of her lush curves had been defined in mouth-watering detail beneath the sodden, transparent fabric. Including her round, puckered nipples.
“I’m grateful.” Her sensuous mouth tipped up in a grin. “Really.”
So was I. Better than an X-rated flick to see you in all your glory. “No worries, Mae. I was here. I was available.” I am now certifiably hooked on your looks and your humility.
“I’m trying so hard,” she fussed at herself.
“Don’t. Just let yourself ease into country life,” he consoled her, complementing his words with a broad smile in her direction. But he froze. Her gaze had been plastered to his naked back. When his eyes sought hers, her lashes fluttered. Flustered? Interested? Maybe?
Do not go there. He ground his teeth. Then returned to his work. How one woman could have so many challenges beat him. How he could be her savior so often thrilled him. Getting close to her—within inches as he was now—made him hard. Made him drool. Made him rein in his fantasy of having her sighing beneath him and remind himself of how that was such a bad idea.
“And damn. All my wieners are burnt!”
“Plus, the neighbors will be so scared. Because of the drought, the brush fires have been so terrible.“
“I feel awful. They’ll think I’m an idiot.”
“No. No.” That’s what she had said the first time he’d saved her from disaster. When was that? A month ago? He’d been outside then, too, heard her yell in dismay and come barreling over the fence. She had stepped in a giant mound of red ants and they had feasted on her feet. Her elegant feet. Her slim, red-lacquered toes.
Shit. Are you playing with a full deck, Farraday?
“Think I should go apologize to them?”
“What? No, the neighbors.” She waved a hand in the direction of the other houses around theirs. Her beautiful breasts bobbed.
His brain sizzled like an egg in a frying pan. Ah, Farraday, you have lost your mind over this woman. “You don’t have to.”
“But I do. Oh, I do! They probably think I’m a nitwit screaming for help every other day.”
She didn’t calm down quickly after any of her disasters.
Just call me your fireman, your handy man, your only…. Enough. He bit his lower lip. Pain would bring him back to sanity. “Look, Mae. You are fine. No one else is running over. The fire is almost under control—“
“Thanks to you. What if you hadn’t been home?”
“But I was.” Good for me.
“And now I don’t have anything else for dinner.” She babbled on about this and that, while he did more damage control and stepped forward to peer into the grill and check for any smoldering embers.
Like he wasn’t one himself.
“Thank you, Sheriff.” She laid a hand on his and his skin melted.
What the hell is wrong with you, Farraday? This is just one woman with nice tits. And a great ass that would fit just fine into your two palms. Up against you, your cock nestled between her thighs.
“West,” he corrected her as he worked on the pile of glowing coals. Get a grip, man. Like most city slickers, she’s oblivious to the world. Sadly, to you, too. Some folks are built like that, and you have to accept what you can’t change. Take another woman to bed and squelch your own fires.
Wednesday, April 25th, 2012
Confessions of a Clueless NewbieBy Lisabet Sarai
Let me begin by making my title clear. I’ve been writing since I was six or seven years old. I’ve been publishing for more than a decade. So I’m not a clueless newbie as an author. No, the areawhere I’m sadly clueless is the romance genre.
From reading author interviews, I get the impression that most romance writers started out as romance readers. Not me, I’m afraid. Before I began submitting to romance publishers, my ideaof “romantic” fiction was Wuthering Heights, Gone with the Wind and Romeo and Juliet. Stories like these tore at my heartstrings, but you’ll note that none of them has a happy ending. I readmy first mainstream romance (some title by Danielle Steele) in my forties and to be honest, I didn’t think much of it.
My earlier publications were basically erotica. I entered the romance world only half a dozen years ago, when the owner of Total-E-Bound contacted me about six months before the companylaunched to ask if I’d be interested in submitting something. I offered them two of my erotic novels that had gone out of print. The books really weren’t traditional romance―in both cases theheroine has encounters with several individuals beside the hero―but they did both end with the hero and heroine getting together, and they were sexually intense, something TEB was seeking.
Since then I’ve penned more than a dozen new tales specifically targeted for the romance market. But it has been tough. I’ve had to learn new narrative conventions. For instance, much of my previous work was written in the first person, but my publisher made it pretty clear that she preferred third person. I wasn’t used to providing detailed descriptions of my characters, but I came to understand that many romance readers want this. I’ve learned that I can give reign to my sexual imagination―the days of the closed bedroom door are over―but only if I keep thespotlight on the protagonists. I can’t have the sexual subplots and the side scenarios that I used to include.
One of the most difficult issues for me has been the apparent dislike that readers of M/M fiction have for including any female-oriented sexuality of any sort. I’ve also had to accept the relative unpopularity of F/F stories, even though I enjoy writing them.
Finally, one of the biggest adjustments for me has been always delivering a happy ending. I know that most of you will find this strange. It’s clear from the polls that I’ve conducted that romance readers insist on things turning out well for the hero and heroine (or hero and hero). But personally, I prefer more ambiguous resolutions to a story’s conflicts. The problem with guaranteed happy endings (from an authorial perspective) is that they make it really hard to create any kind of suspense. No matter how impossible the obstacles dividing the protagonists,readers always know that everything will work out in the end. How do you make the reader care about the conflicts―how do you make the problems believable? –when a HEA is a foregone conclusion?
I’m still struggling with this issue. I’ve been reading my colleagues’ work, trying to understand the dynamics of romance―what makes it work. I think I’m improving, but like I said, I stillconsider myself something of a clueless newbie. I hope that my readers will take that into account and be gentle!My latest release is a M/F paranormal called Hot Spell.
Here’s the blurb:The flames of passion are more than a metaphorThe city swelters in the grip of an unseasonable heat wave. Sylvie endures her solitary urban existence for the sake of her career, but the prospect of a hot, lonely three day weekend proves unbearable and she flees east to the pine-shrouded mountains. Far more at home in nature than in the city, Sylvie doesn’t mind being alone in the wilderness, but she’s not the only being haunting the glades and the trails.
Aidan is fiercely attracted to the voluptuous beauty he finds sun bathing nude in a high meadow, but he must resist his overwhelming desire for the sake of her safety. The sun-bronzed man with the red-gold hair is cursed with power he knows will destroy her if they give full rein to their passion. Can Sylvie refrain from tempting him? Or will she risk being being literally consumed by love?
Want an excerpt? Of course you do!****Her muscles ached from the strenuous hike. Her hair was in knots and a sticky film of perspiration coated her skin. None of that mattered. Peace enfolded her, along with a profound sense of well-being. The breeze whispered to her. The creek babbled and laughed.
Water. A bath. Relaxed, lazy, and sated though she was, the notion still held an irresistible appeal. Sylvie checked the remains of the fire to assure herself that there was no chance it would escape the rocks encircling it. Then she dug a towel out of her pack and headed down the forested slope to the creek.The gurgle of water tumbling over stone grew louder as she approached. The very sound was refreshing. A few feet from the edge, she stripped off her clothes, draping them and her towel over a convenient boulder. She was about to step out of the woods, when an unexpected movement caught her eye.There was something splashing in the creek, a bit downstream from where she stood – something, or someone. Sylvie shrank back into the shadow of the trees.
Directly opposite her, the stream rushed over river-polished rocks, flecked with white froth. To her right, though, it widened into a calm pool, black as the sky above. The unexpected noise came from there.
She peered into the night. All she could see at first was a round, furry mass that seemed to float upon the surface. Ripples stirred as a figure rose from water. At the same time, the half moon climbed above the crest of the trees. Its pale rays revealed the form of a naked man.
Sylvie caught her breath. His back was to her, a gleaming, sculpted expanse that swept down to a narrow waist, then flared into taut buttocks. A wet curtain of golden hair clung to his neckand shoulders. He took a step forward, water swirling around his lean thighs. The grace and power revealed by that small motion made Sylvie ache inside. She’d never encountered such beauty in a man.He turned then, and the ache deepened to an agony of want. Sleek skin stretched over his muscled chest and abdomen, strewn with glittering drops of moonlight.
He turned his face to the skyand Sylvie caught a glimpse of features that seemed carved from marble: soaring brow, chiselled jaw, sharp cheekbones, and a broad, resolute mouth. The man’s eyes were closed, as if he were praying to the moon.
Then she noticed his hands, clasped below his belly in a firm grip around his erect cock. His luscious penis reared up from a matted tangle at his groin, hard and smooth as the rest of his body. Her nipples snapped into tight peaks as she watched the stranger knead his rampant flesh. Slow and deliberate at first, then with a quickening pace, he stroked from the glistening bulb down to the root. His cock grew longer and fatter as he worked it, hand over hand. His full lips drew back and his brow furrowed as the pressure and the pleasure built. He kept his eyes shut.
Sylvie licked her lips. Dampness painted her inner thighs. Her clit tingled and throbbed, crying out to be touched. Her empty pussy hungered to be filled. In a flash of memory, her dream returned – not the details, just the fevered arousal. Her body was on fire again.She sank to her knees on the mossy ground and plunged her fingers into her wetness. There was no conscious decision. She simply couldn’t help it. Her folds felt slippery and burning hot.
She cupped her hand, four fingers deep in her cleft while she rubbed the back of her thumb over her clit. Pleasure shuddered through her. The swollen nub was hard as a pebble, so sensitive that she could scarcely bear to touch it. When she backed off, though, it screamed for more stimulation.With her other hand, she massaged her breasts, cradling the lovely weight in her palm. She flicked her nipple, striking sparks, then pinched it with all the force she could muster. Her pussy clenched in response. Waves of sensation fanned out from her centre.
A low moan dragged her attention back to the stranger in the stream. With one hand he jerked his cock, fast and rough. The other was hidden behind him, moving in the same jagged rhythm.From his spread thighs and straining muscles, Sylvie guessed he had at least one finger pumping his rear hole. The lewd notion made her own anus twitch and tingle.
He was obviously close to coming. The realization sizzled through her, pushing her to the edge herself. She dug in, mashing her clit against the heel of her hand and rocking back and forth,keeping her eyes on the gorgeous man jacking off barely a dozen feet away. His biceps corded with tension, his teeth bared in a feral snarl, he clawed his way toward orgasm. Sylvie climbed with him, matching him breath for breath, groan for groan.****Hot Spell is available now from Total-E-Bound.
You’ll find information on my other work as well as lots of free stories on my website.