Want to win a signed print copy of Without Warning?
Friday, March 23rd, 2018

Do you prefer a stand alone book or a series?

Comment with your answer. One lucky person will win a signed copy of Without Warning (US and Canada only)

Did you grab your digital copy yet?

 

This is the book the RT Book Reviews called “a fast-paced page-turner that makes for a quick and entertaining read.” 4 Stars and readers are calling “a wonderfully crafted story full of edge-of-your-seat suspense, spine tingling danger, heartfelt drama and sexy romance .”

When you don’t know how the story will end . . .

After years of hard work honing his craft, Blake Edwards is now an international bestselling author. But one thing he never imagined was that his fictional world would become all too real. When a stalker turns Blake’s latest book tour into a treacherous and nearly deadly trap, it’s time for Blake to hire protection. But the body assigned to keep an eye on him is someone he never wants out of his sight . . . 

As a bodyguard for Vigilance, the private security agency in Blake’s hometown of Arrowhead Bay, Samantha Quenel has found the perfect outlet for her military experience. But her latest client is also a former high school flame, which might explain her willingness to protect Blake at all costs—even if that means staying in the same room with him, on the same bed, under the same torrid sheets . . .
Exclusive blog excerpt:

As he reached his station another woman came forward, hand extended.

“Margaret Breakstone. I’m the manager and have to tell you how delighted we are to have you. I hope you don’t get writer’s cramp, because when you’re done we have a ton of presolds for you to sign.”

“Great. My publisher will be pleased.”

She laughed. “Oh, I’d say they’re already pretty happy with you.”

He placed his messenger bag against the wall behind him, pulled out the chair, and sat down. When he took another look around he thought it was a good thing he didn’t get claustrophobia. People were jammed together so tightly they were a solid wall behind the ropes and stanchions.

“This is…amazing.” He looked back at Margaret. “They don’t bite, do they?”

She laughed. “We haven’t had that happen yet, although I suppose there’s always a first time. Your publisher was quick to let us know you still hadn’t gotten used to your celebrity. It’s nice to meet someone who isn’t way over the top.”

“Thank you. I think.”

She waved a hand at the table. “The confirming email told us to be sure and have bottled water for you, and a supply of the pens you like to use. Jocelyn will be your guardian. If you need anything else, just let her know.”

“Thank you again.”

He picked up a pen and got ready to greet the first person in line. After that there was no time for conversation except with the people waiting so patiently. He lost track of time, as the readers kept on coming. Each one had a smile and a compliment and he tried to think of something special to say to each of them. And then, finally, he was done. He looked around and saw most of the crowd had cleared out. A few souls were still browsing but the mob had dispersed.

“You’re a hardy soul, Mr. Morgan.” Jocelyn smiled at him as he leaned back in his chair and stretched. “Thank you again for this.”

“No, thank you. For having me.” He wound his fingers together and cracked his knuckles.

“You have to stop doing that, Blake. It drives people crazy.”

He could hear Annemarie’s chiding voice in his ear. In the past few weeks he’d come to realize exactly how much of his life she was involved in, and how much he’d come to depend on her. Another item high on his list during the break was finding her replacement. He hoped to hell there was someone out there as good as she was.

“Mr. Morgan?” Margaret Breakstone’s voice interrupted his mental wanderings.

“Yes.” He dug out his professional smile. “Presolds, right?”

“Before that a reporter is here and would like an interview for the newspaper. He said his photographer got some great shots with you and the crowd.”

“Oh, sure. Of course.”

“We have a conversation area set aside for it,” Margaret told him. “Come on.”

He rose from the chair, turned to pick up the messenger bag…and froze. On the flap of the bag someone had affixed a sticky note.

I know what you did.

What the hell?

Without Warning

https://www.amazon.com/Without-Warning-Vigilance-Desiree-Holt-ebook/dp/B0738J85VB/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1516722333&sr=1-1&keywords=Without+Warning+desiree

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/without-warning/id1252335605?mt=11

https://play.google.com/store/search?q=9781516103683&c=books

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/without-warning-14

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/without-warning-desiree-holt/1126641691?ean=9781516103683

 

 

 

WIN BIG! WIN TWICE!
Saturday, March 10th, 2018

Leave a comment here.

Someone will win a signed copy of HIDE AND SEEK 

 

Without Warning Vigilance #2

Releases March 20

Now up for preorder

Enter the contest here: https://www.facebook.com/desireeholtauthor/

After years of hard work honing his craft, Blake Edwards is now an international bestselling author. But one thing he never imagined was that his fictional world would become all too real. When a stalker turns Blake’s latest book tour into a treacherous and nearly deadly trap, it’s time for Blake to hire protection. But the body assigned to keep an eye on him is someone he never wants out of his sight . . . 

As a bodyguard for Vigilance, the private security agency in Blake’s hometown of Arrowhead Bay, Samantha Quenel has found the perfect outlet for her military experience. But her latest client is also a former high school flame, which might explain her willingness to protect Blake at all costs—even if that means staying in the same room with him, on the same bed, under the same torrid sheets . . .
 

AMAZON   ITUNES   GOOGLE   KOBO   B&N 

 

 

Excerpt:

I know what you did.

Blake Morgan stared at the piece of paper in his hand, pulse accelerating, a tiny finger of ice slithering down his spine. Again. Someone had left it again. A message with the same words.

Goddamnit!

He looked around to see if he could spot whoever this was, the familiar fear gripping him, his stomach knotting. But he knew he’d see nothing. He never did. Whoever this was moved like a ghost, silent and unseen, leaving his taunting messages. If he wanted to keep Blake on edge, he was doing a damn good job of it. In a fit of anger, Blake crumpled the paper and stuck it in the drink holder of the car. He wasn’t going to let some unknown asshole frighten him. He’d faced worse than this.

He’d found the damn stupid note stuck under his windshield wiper when he went to get his car from the hotel parking garage. Anyone could have done it. Who paid attention to cars in a parking garage, anyway? And why would they? But Jesus. How the hell had someone known which car was his? It was a rental, for crap’s sake.

Wait! Were those footsteps? Was someone running toward him? Away from him? A car door slammed somewhere and an engine turned over. He looked around, wondering if he’d see someone hiding in the shadows, every nerve on high alert.

Okay, get your shit together. You aren’t a character in one of your books.

Anyway, whoever was doing this wouldn’t be quite so obvious. He—or she—would be careful and silent. He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Calm, he told himself. People were waiting for him. His readers. He couldn’t freak out on them.

Crap. Double crap.

Who in the fucking hell was doing this? Who could he have pissed off so much they’d do something like this? A reader he’d offended? Reviewer? Blogger? Not anyone he’d been dating, for sure. He was so busy these days that dates weren’t even on the horizon.

So really. These messages. What the fuck?

He’d blown off the first note as a prank, a harmless joke, although he didn’t think it was very funny. Or maybe even a case of mistaken identity.

Just the one sentence on a plain sheet of paper, typed on someone’s computer.

I know what you did.

He had no idea who it was from. There was no signature, no return address. The postmark was Boston, but he was pretty sure none of the people he knew in that city would be sending him a message like this. He had a lot of readers from that area, but he never gave out his address or phone number. And nothing had been coming in to his public email.

So how the fuck did whoever this was know where he was staying?

Maybe they’d followed him to the hotel, a thought that brought another attack of the creeping chills.

I know what you did.

His agent had made light of it. “The price of fame,” Henry had joked. “It brings the weirdos out of the woodwork. This is your third best seller so you’ve got a lot more eyes focused on you. You’ve had nutty stuff like this happen before. Okay, maybe not quite like this. But eventually, when you don’t make a big deal about it in the media, they give up and move on to someone else. Whoever this is will get tired of the game and disappear.”

But that hadn’t happened. The notes kept coming, showing up in different cities wherever he was signing. Different hotels and venues. Someone was tracking his tour. Not just the cities but also the facilities—bookstores, event centers, wherever.

The police weren’t much help. They were courteous, but the events all happened in different cities, so nobody really had jurisdiction. And, as one overly polite detective told him, he didn’t think this was a case for the FBI.

I know what you did.

 

 

 

Want to win a signed copy of Jungle Inferno?
Sunday, March 4th, 2018

Want to win a signed copy of Jungle Inferno?

Giving away one signed copy of Bk #1, The Phoenix Agency

Digital on sale just this week for only 99 cents

Email me with your answer to the question below:

Who did both Faith and Rick go to for help in finding Mark?

(Hint: military)

Email me at authordesireeholt@gmail.com

I’ll keep the contest open all week and Saturday I will pick a random winner.

So get ready for your 99 cents special!

AMAZON

For Faith and Mark, the telepathic connection they’d shared for years was nothing compared to the scorching physical connection they realized as adults. From the first moment they came together, erotic was too pale a word to describe their relationship. Together they explored each other’s deepest, darkest desires. But now Mark, survivor of an ambush to his Delta Force team, is a prisoner of a terrorist group in the Peruvian jungle, and his telepathic communication with Faith is his only contact with the world. While she searches for help to save him, they survive on dreams that took them beyond all sexual boundaries. Can she persuade the men of Phoenix to undertake a treacherous rescue and bring Mark back to her arms?

Excerpt:

Did . . . hear me?

Faith dropped her pen.

Mark!

Yes. I heard you. Can you hear me?

She held her breath as the silence stretched unbearably. Then, just as she felt frustration grip her again, one word.

Yes.

She wanted to laugh and cry. He’d heard her! He knew she’d gotten his message.

I’ll find you, Mark. Wherever you are.

More silence, but she forced herself to wait with as much patience as she could manage.

South America in . . .

Faith wanted to scream in frustration.

Where, Mark? Where in South America? Help me. It’s a big continent.

Hurry . . .

Somehow she knew this silence wouldn’t be broken. The invisible wall had slammed into place again. He was obviously trying to time his messages when the telepathic captor was otherwise mentally occupied. No problem. At least they’d made the connection.

Hurry, he’d said.

She’d hurry as fast as she could. Picking up the phone, she dialed a still-familiar number.

Want more? It’s all there for just 99 cents.

Joey Hill has done it again!
Saturday, March 3rd, 2018

Joey Hill visits with her latest outstanding winner.

Welcome, Joey!

 

Hey everyone! It’s wonderful to be here with you today. One of the questions I get most often is “how did you come up with that?” Which could mean a storyline, a series, or a particularly creative erotic scene using raw vegetables and rubber gaskets, lol. When I recently released Knight Nostalgia, a 3-story anthology of revisit novellas with my Knights of the Board Room series characters, and Desiree invited me to be a guest on her blog, she wanted me to talk about how this popular series came about. (I’ll hold the vegetables and gaskets for another post!)

Before I had the privilege of writing fulltime, I was a secretary. As such, I have sat through a LOT of meetings. Enough to know 95% of meetings could be replaced with a strategic email and a phone call or two. I’m sure any admin assistants reading this are nodding vigorously and saying some version of “tell it, sister.”

However, since those long, drawn out meetings were how I came up with the Knights of the Board Room, I guess I do owe them thanks. I have a pretty restive mind, so while I was taking minutes I usually also had a bag of crochet to keep my fingers busy between note taking. It would startle managers at first (as it did my professors in college, lol), until they realized I used it to focus, which resulted in exemplary work.

I’ve slowed down some over the years, but at that time my multi-tasking abilities were my superpower. Even the crochet and recording the minutes didn’t fully occupy my mind. Because I was writing during almost all my years as a secretary, an important part of my head was always staying alert for any triggers for story ideas.

I believe a lot of romance writing takes place in the personal terrain of one’s fantasies first. If it doesn’t capture the author’s heart, soul and body, how will it do it for the reader? So, I have to admit, the day the KBR “pinged”, I was doing some lovely sexual fantasizing. All indulged while my crochet hook was flashing and looping yarn, and the other part of my brain was noting that day’s meeting discussion.

Hey! Before you get all “judgy” because I was doing this at work, an erotic romance author’s fantasizing qualifies under the tax code as research and storyline development. So I WAS working. (wink)

Here was what was going through my head. I was imagining an executive team in a top floor board room. This select group of very sexy, powerful men were bonded like brothers, and every one of them was a sexual Dominant. While each man wants to find his own woman, they have a pack mentality, so they have no qualms about using a combination of their sensual talents to win over their fellow Dom’s chosen love. Even if that takeover has to happen on that very board room table.

The flip side of what I said above about personal fantasizing is that, whether I want it to become story fodder or not, it does. If it captures my imagination, the writer side of me snatches it right from the private, “do not enter without invitation” part of my head. That writer side is really rude – no respect for personal boundaries.

So that was the spark. But at the time, it was a random thought, written down in one of my many notebooks. No real form yet. After a spark, I need a trigger. A trigger is usually a scene idea that is a powerful pivot point in the story, which opens the flood gate for a bunch of other scenes, and the story starts to come to life.

Fast forward a bit. Now I was working as an executive assistant for a CEO and his VP team. It was a manufacturing company with a lot of offshore plants (which would become the rough business model for Kensington & Associates, or K&A). I had a situation one day where I needed to change out the bulb in the light above my desk. Not wanting to bug maintenance, I stood on my desk to take care of it. Around that time my boss the CEO came by and saw me. He was a very old school guy about women, and a very authoritative male. It bugged him, me up there like that. When I tried to explain what I was doing, he just held out his hand and said, emphatically, “Get down. Now.” Then he took off his shoes, got up there in his dark dress socks, and did it.

Now, I had no sexual attraction to my boss, but that moment set off MAJOR pings for a character AND a scene idea. I believe Matt Kensington was born right then! Soon after, I was offered the chance to be part of a three-story anthology with fabulous fellow authors Laci Alexander and Liz Lapthorne, and my loose idea and brainstorming turned into a story where a powerful CEO decides to engineer an aggressive takeover of the woman and submissive of his dreams, the CEO of another company. And he brings a unique arsenal to that fight—the sensual talents of his four-man executive team.

After Matt’s story was told, it in turn led to Lucas, Peter, Jon and Ben’s. I figured the series would stop at five, but during the course of the stories, a former Navy SEAL, the K&A limo driver Max, got his story with Matt’s admin, Janet (who is a Domme). Her and Max’s story is the only Domme/male sub story of the series, but it’s one of my favorites of that sub-genre I’ve written. At least on the contemporary side of things – Jacob and Lyssa of Vampire Queen’s Servant are my favorite paranormal couple with that dynamic, though Quinn and Selene, the couple that Desiree and I wrote in Nightfall, come close!

The final book of the Knights of the Board Room series is about the reporter who gave the K&A men the Knights of the Board Room title. Celeste had to have her own story, and so it was that Leland, a Baton Rouge cop and a close friend of the K&A men, came together with her to be the final full length book of the series, Book VII.

But the fans of these guys continue to clamor for more, so I’ve written three free novella downloads over the years revisiting them (I’ll tell you where you can find those at the end). Now I also have this new three-story anthology for publication, Knight Nostalgia. I don’t think any of us ever want to leave them behind!

To close, would you like to read the scene that incident with my boss and the light bulb inspired? Because here it is! You can find those links I mentioned and other stuff about my work after this.

* * * * *

Matt often wondered if Savannah realized she had a circle of devoted knights trying to protect her from harm, when she wouldn’t let them into the inner circle of her life. Geoffrey was gone, and what protection her father had provided, as well as the damage he had done, was gone. She was as alone in the world as a person could get. Matt wanted her in his world, and she wouldn’t even give him an opening to make a move in that direction.

He rounded the corner, his peripheral vision sharpened so he could see if she was in her office. The door was open, her desk light on. And she was standing on top of her desk.

She hadn’t taken off her shoes, and he assumed it was to give her extra height to reach her objective, though he shuddered to think about her stepping on her unstable wheeled office chair in those skinny heels.

He detoured. Determining in a few strides what she was doing, he quickened his pace.

Apparently a bulb had burned out in the incandescent ceiling lighting she preferred to fluorescent. Anal retentive plague that she was, she was changing it herself, rather than waiting to have a maintenance person with solid shoes and a ladder do it tomorrow. She was on the ball of one foot, the other off the ground, straining, her right breast clearly outlined against the fabric of her turquoise turtleneck. The ceiling was too high for her to use one hand to steady her upper body, and as she worked to free the panel over the light fixture, she was precariously balanced. When it came free with a jerk, she overbalanced.

Matt got there in time to clamp his hands on her hips, his palms curled over the hip bones, his fingers on the soft curves.

“What are you doing? Get down from there.”

She was flustered, and he didn’t often get to see that. She backed out of his hold, and he nipped the panel from her fingers, taking it to the floor.

“I’m trying to change a light bulb.”

“I can see that. Get down.”

“I just need to—”

“Get. Down. Now.”

Instead of coming back with another sharp retort, he saw something incredible happen. A moment of confusion. Nervous tension. Something came over him, too, an instinct, and the remarkable feeling that a door had just swung wide open. And he wanted to test it.

“You heard me, Savannah,” Matt said softly. “Come here. Now.”

It was a long moment. Then she shifted her gaze away from his, down, and moved toward his reaching hands, her neck and cheeks flushed.

Still reeling from the revelation, he almost missed his cue, but he recovered in time to take her elbow as she reached down for him. He gripped her waist and she put her hands after a brief hesitation on his shoulders, curiously docile as he lifted her clear of the chair, pushing it out of his way, and lowered her to the floor.

It was a moment before he found his voice, and he managed to make it gentle, since she was blinking at him with the startled look of a deer, not anything like the Savannah he knew.

“Don’t you attend the corporate safety seminars you torture your employees with?”

He saw the snap as the spell was broken. She even took a defensive step back, looked around herself, and that familiar disdain and faint irritation took over her features.

“We fulfill all OSHA requirements, Kensington.”

“Oh, yeah. That was definitely an OSHA-approved maneuver.” He flicked a hand out, caught a loose lock of her hair, enjoyed her look of shocked anger at the casual familiarity.

“I know you think you have to live up to your Savannah Cyborg image, but you don’t have to be and do everything yourself, you know.”

He saw a split second of hurt at the nickname that was used too often for her not to have overheard it countless times before. It made him angry with his clumsiness. And with her, for being so worthy of the name, but only in how she closed herself off to any advances of affection or friendship.

“You delegate administrative tasks to your assistants. Why can’t you let other people help you with things?” He let his concern for her show, hoping to amend that inadvertent barb. “Damn it, if you’d fallen, there’d have been no one to see you fall.”

“That’s the plan,” she said dryly. “Better to bust your backside when no one’s looking.” Some of the spunk was returning, but in the shift of her eyes, he saw she knew something significant had happened. He wondered if she understood what she had revealed, if she even knew it about herself.

The thought brought out a fierce possessiveness in him, a desire to crush anyone who’d taken advantage of such a sweet gift. He enjoyed the many faces and forms of sex, and having an excess of alpha in his personality, he’d often let the natural Dominant in him take over with his casual lovers who liked BDSM. The idea of exercising it in a less casual mode with the woman who’d become his obsession was so intoxicating he had a hard time keeping his cock settled in his trousers. Fortunately, she chose that moment to distract him.

“Fine.” She tossed her head, presented him with a bulb from her desk top. “You want to do maintenance, here’s your chance. And don’t worry. I’ll stand right here and catch you if you fall.”

* * * * *

I’ll put some other fun tidbits about the series in the comments below, but please don’t hesitate to leave your own comments and questions about anything you want to talk to me about. It doesn’t have to be about the new book or this series. It can be about whether I like Cheerios or Apple Jacks for breakfast! (Cheerios, actually, but I love Apple Jacks as a snack, lol). Here’s all the info about the new book, the series, the free novellas and other stuff about me. Thanks again to you and Desiree for letting me be here!

Knight Nostalgia – excerpt, buy links, blurb – http://storywitch.com/book-kbr-kn

Knights of the Board Room series – http://storywitch.com/series-kbr

About Joey:

Winner of the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement award, Joey W. Hill has published almost fifty contemporary and paranormal BDSM erotic romances, including six series. Her emotionally-intense love stories offer everything from vampires, mermaids, witches and angels, to boardroom executives, cops and simple housemaids. With her books, she hopes readers won’t “look past the sex,” but instead will “look within it,” and find a story that can touch not just the body, but also the heart and soul.

Website: storywitch.com

Twitter: @JoeyWHill

Facebook: JoeyWHillAuthor

Facebook Fan site: JWHMembersOnly

GoodReads: author/show/103359.Joey_W_Hill

Pinterest: jwhill23

Instagram: joeywhill1

Free novellas revisiting my characters: storywitch.com/series-cantrips

 

It’s Delta Force Day again in my military week
Friday, March 2nd, 2018

Leave a comment every day.

At the end of the week we will select a commenter to win a $25 Amazon GC

LOCK AND LOAD

STRIKE FORCE BOOK #2

A sniper and a reporter—can they face danger together?

Women are the best stress reliever for Delta Force sniper Beau Williams. Variety is definitely the spice of his life. Until he meets sexy, feisty sports reporter Megan Welles. The sparks between them are caused as much by the heated sexual attraction as by the force of their personalities. But the more time they spend together, the brighter the flame burns. Every chance he gets, Beau is back in San Antonio spending time with her. But he worries that this will burn itself out. When danger follows Megan because of a story she is writing, Beau steps up to the plate to help her and they both have to face that losing each other is a distinct possibility.

Publisher’s Note: This book was previously released by Totally Bound Publishing. It has been revised, expanded and reedited for re-release.

General Release Date: 24th April 2018

Preorder now

TOTALLY BOUND

 

Excerpt:

Come on, asshole, where are you? Show me your face so I can blow it the fuck away.

Beau William flexed the fingers of one hand, relieving the strain of holding them in one position for so long. They had been here for what seemed like hours, he and the other members of Delta Force Team Charlie, waiting for their high value target to appear.

“Take him out and then get the hell out.” That was the order from their commanding office, and worked for Beau. If the murderous jerkoff would just get the fuck out of the tent where he was holed up.

He was disciplined enough to ignore the hard ground beneath him, the rocky terrain and the unrelenting heat. When he’d been picked to join Charlie, one of the first things his teammates told him was Afghanistan was no picnic. That it was considered one of the most forbidding battlegrounds in the history of war. It didn’t take him long to agree with that assessment. Bitter cold in the winter, hot as an oven in the summer, there were few roads, water was scarce and just the hardiest of the hardy could survive the brutal environment.

They hit the nail on the head with that one.

But he and his teammates, led by Slade Donovan, were just such men, trained in every skill imaginable to fight in the war on terror. They were part of a unit in the legendary Delta Force—or 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment,—which operated as part of JSOC—Joint Special Operations Command—in the on-going conflict with radical extremists around the world. Slade and his men were current

At the moment Slade and his men were in the middle of yet another hair-raising mission in the Hindu Kush, an unforgiving mountain range that ran from Central Afghanistan to Pakistan. Almost a thousand miles long and two hundred miles wide, it ran northeast to southwest, most of it through Afghanistan, it divided the Amu Darya River Valley and the Indus River Valley. It stretched from the Pamir Plateau, near Gilgit, to Iran and had over two dozen summits of more than twenty-three thousand feet in height. Below the snowy peaks, the mountains of Hindu Kush appeared bare, stony and poor in vegetation. For centuries it had been referred to as the graveyard of foreign armies.

Beau could agree with that. This wasn’t the first time Delta Force Team Charlie had been here on a mission in this soulless place and he was pretty damn sure it wouldn’t be their last. They’d plotted and planned with as much care as they could, absorbing all the intel they’d received, but as many times as they’d been here, they knew planning could just take them so far.

Finding cover was difficult as always, but their recon man had found them a perfect place to sequester themselves until the target was visible. Good thing, since they’d been waiting two days and two nights. The one good thing about the endless wait, roasting by day and freezing by night, was the wind that had plagued them without end for most of that time had died down at last.

As the team’s sniper, Beau hated the wind. An errant one played hell with the accuracy of a sniper rifle, screwing with the trajectory. He’d been doing this, serving as a sniper, for ten years and had learned how to compensate for nature, how to correct for almost anything up to gale force winds. But he liked it better when the air was still and his spotter could give him exact trajectory and coordinates. He’d still rather not have to worry about it. And up here in the Hindu Kush, the winds were very unpredictable.