Meet new gothic author Winter Frost
Sunday, August 12th, 2012

And her brand new novella Lady in the Mist.
Be sure to lead a comment. I’m going away a $10 Gift Certificate to Amazon or Barnes and Noble to one lucky winner.

Blurb:

Upon her arrival in Shoal Harbor, Maine, Lily Jackson hears eerie moans that the locals claim are the ghostly cries of the unfortunate Breckenridge women. Running from loss and setback in Cincinnati, Lily needs the job as semi-psychiatric caregiver for Andrew Breckenridge, but the storm she has to weather from the oldest Breckenridge brother is severe. Clinton Breckenridge is a brooding man used to getting his own way, and he’s not convinced Lily is the right person to help his troubled younger brother.

Even as Lily starts picking up the pieces of Andrew’s tortured psyche and finding out his dark secrets, another mystery looms before her. Andrew’s lover has gone missing in recent months and no one knows what has happened to her, or if her voice has joined those of the other Breckenridge women. Before she knows it, Lily finds herself in danger—thrust directly into the eye of the raging storm.

Excerpt:

That night, I was in my room preparing for bed when a loud crack of thunder vibrated through the room. I rushed to the window, dread pounding through me at the sight of the darkening sky. Drops of rain shimmered on the glass, and a startling bolt of lightning illuminated the lighthouse. A movement in the top window made me squint through the darkness. Had that been a face? That was impossible. The weather was making me imagine things. Another enormous clap of thunder boomed, and I jumped back, dropping the curtain.

I shivered. Stop this. It’s only a storm. You’re inside. You’re safe. I made a concentrated effort to stop the trembles running through my body. Choosing a book from the nightstand, I settled in bed to read. No way would I be able to sleep until the storm subsided. I tried to focus on the novel, but the words might as well have been written in Swahili for all I understood.

My mind kept wandering to the weather raging outside. With a determined effort, I focused on the page I’d already read no less than five times.

A particularly horrendous blast of thunder made me let out a scream. The lights went out, and I was plunged into darkness.

I froze, my legs quaking so badly, I couldn’t climb from the bed. But then again, did I want to? Wasn’t this the safest place to be?

I tried to remember if I’d seen any candles in the bedroom, but couldn’t recall. The storm was frightening enough, but a power outage was terror-inducing. The only illumination was the occasional flashes of lightening across the draperies, which only intensified my fear.

Forcing my legs to work, I threw off the covers and stood. There had to be a candle in here somewhere. I was halfway across the bedroom floor, making my way through the dark toward the dresser, when a violent rattle shook the doorknob.

A scream left my throat. I couldn’t think straight. Terror sent blood rushing through my eardrums, and it was several moments before I recognized Clinton’s voice. “Lillian? Are you all right?”

On shaking legs, I rushed to the door, mindless of the dark. I jerked it open and summoned all my willpower not to launch into Clinton’s arms. In the faint glow of the flashlight he held, I could barely make out his silhouette, but just having another human in the vicinity eased my terror.

“The power’s out,” I said stupidly.

“I know. I’m sorry. There are candles in the bathroom.”

“I wasn’t sure where to look. And it was dark…” I shuddered. “Why are you here?”

“Drew mentioned your fear of storms. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s get those candles.” His touch landed on my arm, warm and comforting. He guided me to the bathroom where he released me and opened a cabinet. Several candles, some new, some already used were stacked neatly in place. He grabbed the nearest one. Resting the flashlight on the countertop, he reached into his pocket. Flame from a lighter touched the candle’s wick. He turned off the flashlight and slipped it in his back pocket. The flare wavered over his features, which were drawn into a look of concern I’d glimpsed only a few times.

“You’re shivering,” he murmured. He rubbed his hands up and down my arms. The friction of his touch sliding the silk gown along my flesh sent a skitter of desire over my spine.

I met his gaze in the candlelight. His eyes shimmered a golden green. We stared at one another for a few excruciatingly silent moments. He tugged lightly, and I was pulled against his chest. My bones turned to liquid, his touch leaving languorous heat in its wake. His hands slid upward, settling on my face.

“What am I doing?” he asked, his voice a tortured groan.

Before I had time to respond, he lowered his head and claimed my mouth. The kiss was gentle, his lips warm and coaxing. I opened to him with a small moan, linking my hands behind his neck. I pressed into him while a wave of undeniable yearning ached in my lower belly. Madness. This is madness, a voice whispered in my head. In spite of the truth in the words, I didn’t stop.

 “Lillian? Clinton?” At first, the origin of the words didn’t register. I wondered how Clinton was able to speak with his mouth fused to mine. Then sanity returned.

Drew.

I broke the kiss and pushed away from Clinton, wiping a hand along my mouth.

“God,” he groaned, scraping a hand through his hair. He snatched up the candle, then brushed past me and out of the bathroom.

“In here, Drew.”

I followed to find Drew standing in my bedroom, flashlight in hand.

“What’s going on?” Drew looked from Clinton to me. “Are you okay?”

I smiled shakily. “I’m fine. Clinton found a candle.”

He slowly nodded, his expression unreadable, but I sensed a hint of suspicion. None was revealed when he spoke. “Good. The storm’s over.”

I looked to the window. He was right. The storm had passed, and I hadn’t been aware of it. Hadn’t been aware of anything except Clinton and the desire his kiss had ignited.

Clinton moved across the room and placed the candle on my nightstand. “Let’s go so she can rest. The power should be on soon. Hank is probably starting the generator now.”

With that, they exited, leaving me alone with the flickering flame and the stirring embers of that unexpected kiss.

What do Buckskins, Boots and Bondage have in common?
Friday, August 10th, 2012

Buckskins, Boots and Bondage by Desiree Holt


Buckskins, Boots and Bondage by Desiree Holt
Publisher: Wild Rose Press
Genre: Contemporary
Length: Short Story (122 pages)
Other: BDSM, M/F, M/F/M, menage, anal play, toys
Rating: 4 stars
Reviewed by Dogwood

Twins Justin and Tucker Davis only want one thing–one woman to share for the rest of their lives. Angel Cruz wants two men who will cherish her forever. Sex between them is hotter than the Texas sun in August as they play out their fantasies at Rawhide, the private bondage club. But when her job threatens their livelihood, will their newfound connection be strong enough to survive?

Book four in the Rawhide series, “Buckskins, Boots and Bondage” provides the same blistering heat as the previous three books. As the reigning literary queen of the “3-way romantic adventures”, Desiree Holt does a fantastic job at turning this sexy cowboy menage story into a sizzling tale that heats the heart as well as the libido.

Gorgeous and domineering twins, Justin and Tucker Davis are co-owners in a cattle feed-supply company. Both men have been burned by love before but both men also know that the only relationship that is for them is sharing that one “little-gal’s” affections between themselves.

Their hometown is very conservative, making it hard to find someone to connect with that not only lives close by but is also someone who is looking for the same kind of relationship that they are seeking.

Justin is ready to settle down with “Miss Right” but he still has to convince his brother Tucker that the heart is worth risking again after it has been hurt badly in the past.

One day while Tucker is venting out his frustrations to his friend Reece Halloday, Reece tells Justin about the existence of Rawhide, an exclusive BDSM club that has been a source of connecting unique couples and trios over the years with a permanent love match.

Could this be the place that the Davis brothers might find their unique brand of true love?

As an active member of Rawhide, Angel Cruz is no stranger to the BDSM lifestyle. A hard-working litigation attorney, Angel is a junior partner in a prestigious law firm on the rise to soon make full partner. She too is looking for a unique relationship on a more permanent basis but feels she has to keep her desires quiet as co-workers might judge her sexuality.

Buckskins, Boots and Bondage by Desiree Holt


Buckskins, Boots and Bondage by Desiree Holt
Publisher: Wild Rose Press
Genre: Contemporary
Length: Short Story (122 pages)
Other: BDSM, M/F, M/F/M, menage, anal play, toys
Rating: 4 stars
Reviewed by Dogwood

Twins Justin and Tucker Davis only want one thing–one woman to share for the rest of their lives. Angel Cruz wants two men who will cherish her forever. Sex between them is hotter than the Texas sun in August as they play out their fantasies at Rawhide, the private bondage club. But when her job threatens their livelihood, will their newfound connection be strong enough to survive?

Book four in the Rawhide series, “Buckskins, Boots and Bondage” provides the same blistering heat as the previous three books. As the reigning literary queen of the “3-way romantic adventures”, Desiree Holt does a fantastic job at turning this sexy cowboy menage story into a sizzling tale that heats the heart as well as the libido.

Gorgeous and domineering twins, Justin and Tucker Davis are co-owners in a cattle feed-supply company. Both men have been burned by love before but both men also know that the only relationship that is for them is sharing that one “little-gal’s” affections between themselves.

Their hometown is very conservative, making it hard to find someone to connect with that not only lives close by but is also someone who is looking for the same kind of relationship that they are seeking.

Justin is ready to settle down with “Miss Right” but he still has to convince his brother Tucker that the heart is worth risking again after it has been hurt badly in the past.

One day while Tucker is venting out his frustrations to his friend Reece Halloday, Reece tells Justin about the existence of Rawhide, an exclusive BDSM club that has been a source of connecting unique couples and trios over the years with a permanent love match.

Could this be the place that the Davis brothers might find their unique brand of true love?

As an active member of Rawhide, Angel Cruz is no stranger to the BDSM lifestyle. A hard-working litigation attorney, Angel is a junior partner in a prestigious law firm on the rise to soon make full partner. She too is looking for a unique relationship on a more permanent basis but feels she has to keep her desires quiet as co-workers might judge her sexuality.

When Justin, Tucker and Angel meet at Rawhide only to discover an immediate bond, they soon find themselves grasping towards the brass-ring… but when Angel’s job threatens the new found love-trio can they survive the carnage with enought strength to carry them through to happily ever-after?

Ms. Holt provides the reader with enough erotic fantasy ideas to fuel a bonfire. Her characters are intriguing and her words flow smoothly into a fun and entertaining read. I will definitely pull this story out again in the future when I am looking for a quick tale to stir the imagination, after all what is not to love about hot, sexy cowboys paying homage to one lucky lady?

The love scenes in this story are extremely hot, and the sexual details are explicit and juicy. The main characters have exciting chemistry and are totally loveable. What can I say except, Yum-Yum, darlin’ giddy-up?

Need a “noon-day” pick-me-up? Well mosey on up to Rawhide partners where “Buckskins, Boots and Bondage” will warm you faster than a wild-west camp-fire.When Justin, Tucker and Angel meet at Rawhide only to discover an immediate bond, they soon find themselves grasping towards the brass-ring… but when Angel’s job threatens the new found love-trio can they survive the carnage with enought strength to carry them through to happily ever-after?

Ms. Holt provides the reader with enough erotic fantasy ideas to fuel a bonfire. Her characters are intriguing and her words flow smoothly into a fun and entertaining read. I will definitely pull this story out again in the future when I am looking for a quick tale to stir the imagination, after all what is not to love about hot, sexy cowboys paying homage to one lucky lady?

The love scenes in this story are extremely hot, and the sexual details are explicit and juicy. The main characters have exciting chemistry and are totally loveable. What can I say except, Yum-Yum, darlin’ giddy-up?

Need a “noon-day” pick-me-up? Well mosey on up to Rawhide partners where “Buckskins, Boots and Bondage” will warm you faster than a wild-west camp-fire.

Time to get Hammered!
Wednesday, August 8th, 2012


Out today from Ellora’s Cave:
Hammered: Second in the Erector Set series.


Alex McMann is putting his Masters in Business Administration to good use running the business end of the construction company that he owns with his brothers. He’s flown high and wide through the female segment of every geographic area in which the company has a presence, and now he’s ready at last to settle down. When he meets Olivia D’Angelo, CFO of one of their client companies, he’s sure he’s found The One.


Olivia is sharp, she’s smart, she’s sassy and she challenges him both in and out of the bedroom, where the sex is hot and plentiful. Just one problem. She has her own issues and isn’t looking for anything permanent. Can Alex convince her that he’s enough to satisfy her for the rest of her life? 


Chapter One


The elevator pinged softly, the doors whooshed open and Alex McMann stepped out into the plush reception area for Concordia. Just the one name. Concordia. But everyone recognized it and the villages it built. He tried not to be impressed—after all, he’d been in some pretty fancy offices—but this one outdid all of them. Quiet, understated elegance that shrieked money. No muddy shoes in here.

A woman with stylishly upswept blonde hair, who looked as if she been dressed at Saks Fifth Avenue, was working at a semicircular desk made of polished cherrywood, head bent over what she was doing. But the sound of the elevator registered belatedly, she lifted her head and gave him a smile he bet she spent hours practicing in front of a mirror.

He forced himself not to run his finger around his collar or brush a hand over his hair, habits that denoted nerves. McMann Brothers Development was no penny ante company and after all, he’d been asked to a meeting here. He hadn’t come begging for an appointment. Still, hammering out a contract with Concordia would move them into a whole new class of developers. This was the giant step they’d been working toward. If it panned out.

“Do not fuck this up,” his brothers told him when he left the office. “Whatever they want, if we get the contract it will push us into a whole new level.”

“Do you want to wipe my nose and check behind my ears?” he asked with a sarcastic edge.

“Just go,” Josh told him.

“And call the minute you’re out of the building,” Tyler added.

“Sure, sure, sure,” he called grumpily over his shoulder.

So now here he was, hoping he was thoroughly prepared for this meeting. He knew—they all knew—that Concordia was famed for the award-winning villages they built all over the world. A portfolio the McMann brothers hungered to be included in.

“You’re Mr. McMann, right?” The woman’s voice was soft, modulated.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Was he a schoolboy?

She picked up the receiver on her desk and spoke softly into it, then smiled at him again. “Jennifer will be right out to get you,” she told him.

Okay. Jennifer. He stood with his briefcase, trying to wait without fidgeting. Then a door opened at the far end of the hall and the woman of his dreams walked toward him. If this was Jennifer he might hang around after hours. It wasn’t just his cock that wanted to stand at attention. He felt his heart drop to the bottom of his feet then bounce back up into his throat.

Jesus, Alex. Get your shit together.

She was of medium height, but that was the only thing medium about her. Hair the color of deep auburn hung to her shoulders in loose waves. And though she was dressed in a tailored blouse and straight skirt, the material of both was soft and did little to hide curves that made his mouth water. Her heels added three inches to her height but she didn’t teeter on them as many women did. She had an air of  supreme confidence and he wondered exactly what Jennifer did that she exuded such poise and assurance.

When she reached him, she extended a graceful hand. “Mr. McMann? Jennifer was handling something for us so I came to fetch you myself. Olivia D’Angelo.”

“Alex McMann.” He grinned. “But then you know that.” When he shook hands with her electricity zinged between them. She felt it, too, her eyes narrowing just a tiny bit. He held onto her hand a millimeter of a second too long, loving both the strength of her grip and the soft skin of her palm.

“Indeed I do.” She eased her hand from his, her lips curving in a tiny but mischievous smile and lights dancing in her hazel eyes.

Oh yes. This woman was temptation on a plate. He wondered what she looked like without those clothes, hair spread out on a pillow—

“Mr. McMann?” Her words shook him out of the erotic reverie he had momentarily fallen into. “Let’s go. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

What was the matter with him? He was supposed to be here on business—and very important business—not pleasure. He held his briefcase in front of him, just in case his stupid dick decided to intrude and tried to control the sudden heavy thudding of his heartbeat. But as he followed her down the hallway he was mesmerized by the sway of her hips as she walked. Oh yeah, he was in very big trouble here. And about to enter what could be the most important meeting of his life.

Nice going, dickhead.

She opened a heavy oak door and ushered him into a conference room where nine men and women waited for him, studying him curiously. Some were dressed in business attire, others more casually. Alex figured those were the ones who checked on job sites. Construction and electrical engineers. He didn’t let their casual attire fool him. To sit at this table you had to be sharper than a tack.

A man at the closest end of the table rose and held out a hand to him.

“Alex? I’m Frank Vincent, president of Concordia.” Vincent was a broad, muscular man of medium height, in a suit Alex estimated cost him close to three thousand bucks. His salt and pepper hair and matching moustache set off the deep green of his eyes. Shrewd eyes that Alex was sure missed nothing.

He waved a hand to indicate the assembled group. “This is my executive staff. And your guide, Olivia, is my chief financial officer.” He smiled. “Don’t let the fact that she’s a woman give you false idea. She’s a shark with numbers and eats people for lunch at the negotiating table.”

Chief financial officer? A shark? Alex hoped he did a good job masking the shock that jolted through him. He didn’t know which part of his body she affected more—his brains or his balls. But he took the vacant seat Vincent indicated, removed a pen, yellow pad and brochure from his briefcase and waited for the man to proceed.

And be sure to read Book One: Erected

Follow me on Twitter @desireeholt and Facebook DesireeHolt
It’s not 50 Shades Greyer It’s 100 Percent Hotter!!
Friday, August 3rd, 2012

Leave a comment. One lucky person will win a $25 Gift Certificate toAmazon.

Everyone from The Wall Street Journal to the L.A. Times to the Hollywood Reporter is talking about it. Every TV network from Fox to the BBC to CNN is speculating about it. The word has gone viral. What am I talking about? Total-E-Bound’s new Clandestine Classics. If you’ve ever wondered what would happen between the sheets with Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy, you’re in luck.

Clandestine Classics founder Claire Siemaszkiewicz said: ”Some people will love this and some will hate it. We’re hoping we’ll change their minds or blow their minds.”

Clandestine Classics launched with five classics heated to the point of boiling: Jane Eyre, Northanger Abbey, Pride and prejudice, A Study in Scarlet and Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. I am excited to be one of the launch authors with my version of Northanger Abbey. The original novel still stands with the erotic scenes interwoven with the original story.

Excerpt:

The storm still raged, and various were the noises, more terrific even than the wind, which struck at intervals on her startled ear… She began to wish for Henry Tilney to find his way secretly to her room to help allay her nervousness.

When the door to her room opened she searched frantically for something with which to defend herself… “What are you doing here?” she whispered, noticing he had divested himself of all his clothes save a thin pair of breeches and a loose shirt.

“I feared the storm would disturb you and wanted to ease you through it… Open your mouth for me, sweet Catherine,” he urged. “Let me in.” She did and when his tongue swept inside it filled her with pleasure.

Buy link: http://tinyurl.com/ctnos8l

Presenting a brand new series from bestselling author Lynne Connolly!
Monday, July 30th, 2012


Nightstar


When the hot band Murder City Ravens gets its dream, when it gets a number one album and single and suddenly the world is watching—that’s great, right?

Well, mostly.

But V, Jace, Donovan, Hunter, Zazz and Riku have other dreams, other places to go. The success shocks them. It means luxury hotels instead of motels and vans, acclaim and attention, all they need to carry on being the great band that has caught the fickle eye of the media. It puts a big stop on anything else they’d considered doing, and demands their total commitment to making Murder City Ravens stellar. A year-long world tour rips them away from their lives, and puts them in the brightest spotlight the world can provide.

New opportunities. New hot connections with partners who take them by storm, coming at what seems like the worst possible time. Each member of the band has a choice to make, and it could affect the band as a whole. But they can’t walk away from what they’ve found and they can’t ask their new love to give everything up for them, and the sake of the new album.

Nightstar.


Book One: In The Mood


By: Lynne Connolly

Published By: Ellora’s Cave

ISBN # 9781419939761

Available from all good e-booksellers from 20th July 2012




About the book


Genre: Contemporary romance

Series: Nightstar


The sound of a saxophone drifting out of a Chicago blues club sends Matt inside, hoping to sign the player for his recording studio. Instead he finds V. Passion drives them from that moment on, and Matt can’t get enough of her sweet body and generous spirit. But as a former drug addict who spectacularly crashed out of the rock band Murder City Ravens, he has a lot to prove.

V thinks she’s happy with her lot until she receives an offer to join one of the most innovative and exciting bands in the world. Joining Murder City Ravens could sever her from Matt forever. How can she join the band when she’s spending her nights with the man who nearly destroyed everything they had?

Matt and V have decisions to make that might give them their life’s dream, but could split them apart. Which is more important, personal fulfillment or love? Is it possible to have both?


An excerpt from the book


A breath of a note shivered through the air as the club door opened. Matt paused, then stayed to listen. It sounded great. Better than great. Whoever was playing that saxophone knew how to wrench the heart out of the music.

Abruptly changing his plans for the evening, he walked toward the door. Chicago had managed to turn a thriving music area into a tourist trap, but for those who knew where to look, a few of the old style clubs remained. Clubs that attracted tourists but were still all about the music. After all, tourists loved music too.

This type of club didn’t have people queuing behind velvet ropes and VIP areas or tourists turning up in droves. The savvy might pick this place out, because it was small and laid back and looked as if it had been there for some time.

The man at the door looked at him, then blinked and stared, dark eyes widening. “Are you Maxx Syccoraxx?”

He grinned. “People ask me that all the time.” He was used to the question by now. It was better than, “Didn’t you used to be Maxx Syccoraxx?” Yes, that was who he used to be; lead singer with an up-and-coming rock band. No more. Drink and drugs had finished all that for him, burned him out. Now, with his body filled out and hair cropped short, he looked like a different man, but sometimes people still recognized him.

He hadn’t done so badly. He was still here, unlike some of the people he’d met in his wild years. And he had to admit, the band had gone on to greater things without him, mainly due to his replacements and the way they gelled with the other members. Though sometimes he had to grit his teeth before he admitted it. Failure never came easy, but he was in the process of mending his reputation and his fortune. That worked for him.

He strolled into the club. Inside, the place looked pretty normal. A bar ran down one side of the room with stools set in front of it, about half of them occupied, and the other side had small tables with bentwood chairs or simple wooden stools arranged around them.

Every time he entered a place like this, chills of recognition and excitement went up his spine. He just felt it, like coming home. This was where he’d started, in the small, smoky, sometimes seedy clubs and bars, in his case in New York. He never lost that excitement, and if he ever did, he’d start worrying.

He’d arrived in time. The saxophonist was playing an extended riff on Summertime, always one of Matt’s favorites. His mother said she’d sung it to him when he was a baby, and it was true he couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know that song.

And now another time, another place, another version. A magical version. He let the notes wreathe around him, luring him into listening to more, but he wouldn’t look at the stage until he’d heard more. If the player was male, he still wanted sex with him, just from the seductive music, although his usual preference ran to something softer and rounder. The kind with gentle voices, plump breasts and sweet, shivering bodies.

Shit, he was one sex-starved bastard. He’d been too busy to think about sex recently but that changed abruptly when he’d heard the first notes of the song.

He bought a beer at the bar, then found a seat at one of the small tables at the back. The man who served him glared at him, his gnarled, brown hands showing nicks and scars from old brawls, but he didn’t comment. Matt would bet this guy had made him for sure. Seen a lot of life, that guy.

He’d deliberately kept his attention away from the little stage at the front of the room. He wanted his first aural perceptions unaffected by anything he saw. Now, sitting alone at a small table, he looked up. And lost his breath.

The sax player was tall and slim, with soft bits in all the right places, and she wore a short, sassy dress in an antique gold color, a foil for the blonde hair that flowed down her back and curled around her body. Strands of it clung to her instrument as if they wanted to bind the two together, player and sax.

The notes shuddered through him, through her, as they did through the dozen or so patrons here tonight. An inner voice told Matt to snatch her away, lock her up somewhere he could enjoy her and nobody else could get to her. This was his music, she was playing for him alone.



© Lynne Connolly, March 2012

All Rights Reserved