Friday, April 28, 2017

Out today! Damned If You Do (#bdsm #pnr #prizes)

Damned If You Do cover


Sometimes romance can be hell

Wendy Dennison is tired of being a starving author. The royalties from her critically acclaimed romance novels barely pay her bills. Her devoted agent Daniel Rochester may be smart and sexy, but he can't get her the sales she needs. Then a charismatic stranger appears at her coffee shop table, promising her fame and commercial success, as well as the chance to live out her dreams of erotic submission. But at what cost?

Nothing you can't afford to lose, my dear.

Seduced by the enigmatic Mister B, she signs his infernal contract. He becomes both her Master and her coach, managing her suddenly flourishing career as well as encouraging her lusts. Under her mentors nefarious influence, she surrenders to temptation and has sex with Daniel. The casual encounter turns serious when she discovers her mild mannered agent has a dominant side. As the clock ticks down to her blockbuster release and Mister B prepares to claim her soul, Wendy must choose either celebrity and wealth, or obscurity and true love.


~ ~ ~

Release day at last! 

I actually submitted the manuscript for my new BDSM erotic romance, Damned If You Do, almost two months ago. Usually there's not such a long lag between my finishing a book and seeing it published. It's been tough to be patient!

I hope you'll agree with me that the book is worth waiting for. It's a slightly weird tale of creativity and chaos, temptation and redemption--and of course, of love. 

I'm doing a month long release blitz through Author Marketing Services, so hopefully you'll be seeing a lot of this book. In conjunction with this tour, I'm giving away lots of prizes: three $10 gift certificates and three copies of my five star BDSM novel The Gazillionaire and the Virgin

The release blitz doesn't start until Monday, but you can get a head start! Just leave a comment with your email address on this post to enter! If you join my VIP email list (and you're not already on the list), you'll get a second entry.  Just click the button in the left sidebar.

This is going to be fun!!


 
Get your copy of the book today!

(More buy links coming soon... I hope!)

Excessica

A quick note: the staff person at Excessica who's responsible for uploading books to publishers had a family emergency. So the book may not be available for 24-48 hours. You can still enter the giveaway, though!

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Sneak Peek: Claiming the Maverick's Heart by @DebraHoltBooks (#rodeo #giveaway #cowboy)

Claiming the Maverick's Heart cover

Blurb

He’s back.”

Words Macy Donovan hoped to never hear.

Trace Cartwright was the maverick rodeo cowboy who broke her heart, leaving her on the steps of the church on the eve of their wedding. Now he's returned to build his home and to lay claim to her heart ... again. Macy barely survived the broken heart the first time. Does he think he can walk back into her life and take up where he left off?

Excerpt Snippet

All that from just a glance? It was only a swift glimpse, but Macy didn’t need more. The broad shoulders and lean hips hadn’t changed…and neither had the cocky set of the black Stetson. The man was more than a head taller than anyone around him; his straight-backed stature was a distinctive Cartwright trait, as were the green eyes inherited from his Irish mother. Macy couldn’t see his eyes from that distance, but she didn’t need to. They were forever etched in her memory. Wiping first one sweaty palm and then the other on the legs of her jeans, she increased her grip on the steering wheel while her insides continued their gymnastics.

Buy Links

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/Claiming-Mavericks-Heart-reliving-redemption-ebook/dp/B01LVVAV29

BN: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/claiming-the-mavericks-heart-debra-holt/1124729959?ean=9781946016058
 

About the Author


Born and raised in the Lone Star state of Texas, Debra grew up among horses, cowboys, wide open spaces, and real Texas Rangers. Pride in her state and ancestry knows no bounds and it is these heroes and heroines she loves to write about the most. She also draws upon a variety of life experiences including working with abused children, caring for baby animals at a major zoo, and planning high-end weddings (ah, romance!). 
 
When she isn’t busy writing about tall Texans and feisty heroines, she can be found cheering on her Texas Tech Red Raiders, or heading off on another cruise adventure. She read her first romance...Janet Dailey's Fiesta San Antonio, over thirty years ago and became hooked on the genre. Writing contemporary romances, is both her passion and dream come true, and she hopes her books will bring smiles...and sighs...to all who believe in happily-ever-after’s.
Debra invites you to visit her website at www.debraholtbooks.com. She loves to hear from other aspiring authors or readers via email at debraholtbooks [at] gmail [dot] com. Twitter is https://twitter.com/DebraHoltBooks and Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/DebraHoltBooks



Debra is giving away a $10 bookstore gift certificate to one lucky reader. Use the Rafflecopter below to enter! 

 


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Dark Beginning, Bright Future (#marriage #love #karma)


Gold heart

I fell in love with my husband while my mother was dying. That sounds heartless and morbid, doesn't it? But it wasn't like that at all.

We'd met six months before, at a conference. I lived in California; he was based in Massachusetts where I'd grown up. We'd corresponded and talked on the phone, but it didn't seem all that likely that our relationship had much future, given the geographic barriers.

When my mom's leukemia resurfaced after a year's remission, I took a leave of absence from my job so that I could be with her on the east coast. For nearly a month, I visited the hospital every day. Aside from her disease, she was incredibly healthy, and it took a painfully long time for her to die.

When I wasn't at her bedside, I spent the time with K. He somehow knew exactly how to deal with me. If I needed to talk out my fears and my sorrows, he'd let me. If he thought I needed distraction, he'd provide it. He drove me back and forth to the hospital. He took me out to dinner. He let me cry on his shoulder.

Away from my home, my work and my friends, I felt lost and depressed. I worried about my job – my first serious employment since leaving graduate school. I had nightmares about my mother. K handled it all. I was incredibly grateful for his support. I suppose at some level he had ulterior motives, but honestly, I don't know whether I would have made it through those dark days without him at my side.

When my mom finally let go and passed on, he helped my siblings and I make the arrangements, and accompanied me the funeral. Only later did I realize what that cost him. My mother had converted to Catholicism. For reasons buried in his own history, K. has an allergy to organized Christianity. Normally, he won't set foot in a church. However, he made an exception, so that he could be at my side, quietly offering me his love and his strength.

A day or two after the funeral, I returned to California. I was seriously concerned that I might be fired. But K. and I both knew that our relationship had changed. A month later I came east for the winter holidays and then he and I drove cross-country together, in the first of what would become many journeys. We count our time together from the day we left Massachusetts and headed west.

Good, decent men? I certainly found one, or rather, he found me. That was more than thirty years ago. He's proved himself again and again. A few years ago, when I had hip replacement surgery, the poor guy had to take on almost all the household responsibilities. He hardly complained.

I must have really good karma, to have hooked up with this man. Other women apparently feel the same way I do about him – he's not particularly good looking but he never fails the charm members of the fairer sex. I almost feel embarrassed by my good fortune.

Maybe that's why I have some trouble writing male characters who are self-centered, lazy, manipulative or cruel. I've heard so many tales of woe from my girlfriends – but it's hard for me to identify.

My guy is solid gold.


Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Review Tuesday: Love Under Foot (#gay #review #footfetish)

Love Under Foot cover


Love Under Foot: An Erotic Celebration of Feet
Edited by Greg Wharton and M. Christian

Harrington Park Press, 2004



Let it be a challenge. When I was offered the opportunity to review Greg Wharton's and M.Christian's anthology of gay foot fetish stories, this was my reaction. I'm not a gay male, and although I admit an occasional lustful reaction to the sight of some smooth, graceful woman's foot embraced by a strappy sandal, I find most men's feet, with their calluses, fuzzy insteps and gnarled toenails, distinctly unarousing. At the same time, I have often pontificated on the universality of the sexual urge and the remarkable flexibility of our erotic impulses. Under the right circumstances, any stimulus can become a turn-on. So why not feet?

Nevertheless, I'll admit that despite the exceptional credentials of the editors, I did not have high expectations for a collection which seemed to have such a narrow focus. I was most pleasantly surprised. The twenty tales in LOVE UNDER FOOT offer originality, diversity and unexpected thematic depth, as well as the promised hot homoerotic sexual encounters.

Feet are major players here, but other body parts are not neglected. Greg Herren's "Athlete's Foot" lets the reader vicariously enjoy an outrageously public oil wrestling session between two exceptionally hard bodies. In "Those Boots", by Bill Brent, used leather boots picked up at a BDSM swapmeet trigger an auto-erotic fantasy scene that had me panting. The shoe salesman in Duane William's "No Mean Feet" begins by giving a phantom foot massage to an ex-soldier's amputation stump; I'll let you imagine, or discover, where it ends.

Personally, I can't find anything sexy about stinky gym shoes or sweaty socks. But I'm willing to believe, from the energy and enthusiasm in Sean Meriwether's "Sneaker Queen" or Paul J. Willis' "Aromatherapy", that someone might. Could you come from being tickled? Stories by Wayne Courtois and Jason Rubis suggest that it's distinctly possible.

Most of the tales in this collection treat their subject matter with a light-hearted (or perhaps I should say light-footed) sense of fun. Charles Anders' "At the Right Foot of God" imagines a religion founded on the precept that feet are the province of Divinity -- complete with the appropriate foot worshipping rituals. In "Days of Wine and Toesies", Sean T. Gold serves up a tale of a dinner party flirtation where playing footsy takes a hilariously unexpected turn.

A few of the stories have a darker edge, most notably Simon Sheppard's gritty "The Footwhore of Babylon" and Ian Philips' folksy but tragic "Shrimpboat Willie". These stories provide a satisfying counterweight to the happier tales of cruising, looking for the perfect sole.  

All of this would have made LOVE UNDER FOOT sufficiently entertaining to justify my time in reading it. Three exceptional stories, however, raise this book above the level of fun foot-porn into the domain of literary erotica. All three convey an emotional intensity that nearly brought tears to my eyes. In William Dean's "The Alabaster Arch", the object of desire is not even animate, yet its power reaches across half a world, calling to those who recognize it. "Lotus", by G. Merlin Beck, turns deformity into mystery, and lust into awe.  And M.Christian's "Happy Feet" juxtaposes past and present in the mind of an aged ex-dancer whose feet were the darlings of Kelly and Astaire.

Feet are featured in all three of these stories. The tales are clearly at home in this collection. At the same time, they transcend fetish and orientation, demonstrating that arousal is universal and that desire is an essential attribute of the soul, regardless of its source.

That is the truth that brings me back to erotica, as a reader and a writer, again and again.

Monday, April 24, 2017

Sneak Peek: Resurrection of Artemis by @IzzySzyn (#hacker #superhero #giveaway)


Blurb

Once known as the infamous hacker Artemis, Amy Wilson now works in a coffee shop. With only months until the end of her probation from working in the technological industry that she loves, Amy is determined to keep Artemis dead and buried.

When incidents similar to the ones Amy did start occurring all fingers start pointing in Artemis’ direction, and three people that want Artemis to come out of retirement.

Quail City’s super heroes Dark Master and Calypso aka as multi-billionaire Noah Adams and his assistant Vanessa London know Amy’s secret, and also know that she is being set up. Having spent months in a flirtmance with Amy, they are tired of waiting and want both her and Artemis in their bed.

Hinderer wants to hold technology hostage, but in order to do that he needs Artemis’ assistance, and he will use any methods necessary to gain her cooperation.

Amazon Buy Link http://amzn.to/2nAFqKe
Available on Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt

People have been mentioning Artemis,” Calypso said. “You wouldn’t have heard anything?”

They knew, Amy thought. Somehow they knew. “No, Artemis isn’t here anymore. At least from what I heard.”

Damn shame, too,” complained one of the customers in the shop. “Not the Artemis that is playing with the lights and stuff. But the Artemis who liked to help people with their problems.”

Yeah, I think if someone is behind it, it’s someone pretending to be Artemis, or trying to shift the blame on her,” said another customer. “She may have done some things, but she’d never deliberately set out to get people hurt.”

Amy smiled at the person that made the comment. “I’ve been here all day. But it’s more than the traffic lights. Didn’t I hear that the other day the Financial District was shut down because the money showed at zero?”

That is something that Artemis had fun with,” Dark Master commented. “Or had in the past.”

I’m sure that whatever has been happening in Quail City has nothing to do with Artemis,” Amy replied.

Hope for Artemis’ sake it’s true,” Calypso said. “Williams is ranting and raving in Commissioner James’ office asking for her to be arrested.”

Just bet he is, thought Amy. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
Amy asked them. She saw that it was almost six and the last bus going towards her apartment would be there any minute.

You in our bed,” Calypso said in her ear. “Your blue hair will look glorious on our pillows.” Then out loud stated, “That’s all for now.”

About the Author



New York Times Bestselling Author Izzy Szyn was born in May of 2014 when a friend dared her to write. Born and raised in Detroit, MI,  Izzy now lives in Oklahoma City with her furchild Misty, the friendliest Chihuahua/Terrier you will ever meet. Currently works in a call center, where she writes in between phone calls.
Izzy loves to keep in touch with her readers. Email her at izzyszyn@gmail.com.








Izzy will be awarding a $10 Amazon to one randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here. http://reviewsbycacb.blogspot.com/p/resurrection-of-artemis-izzy-szyn-izzy.html

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Celebrate Books! (#LoveToRead #giveaway #bdsm)


World book day banner

Happy World Book Day!

I’m not kidding. The United Nations has designated the 23rd of April as World Book and Copyright Day—a special day to honor authors and readers and to spread the joys of literacy around the world.

For more information, just go here: http://www.un.org/en/events/bookday/

Of course, for us authors every day is book day.

Right now, I’m counting down to the release (next Friday!) of my new kinky erotic romance Damned If You Do. I’ll be running a bunch of events, including a release blitz with lots of prizes. Stay tuned for details!

To whet your appetite, here’s a sexy bit from the book.

And, to get you in the mood for the blitz, I’ll do a giveaway today. Leave me a comment with your email letting me know how you plan to celebrate World Book Day. I’ll randomly choose one person to receive a copy of my BDSM suspense novella, Bangkok Noir.



Come here, Gwen.”

His order broke through her paralysis. In a matter of seconds she stood before him, legs spread, head bowed and hands clasped at the small of her back. She’d described this posture of submission so many times that it felt completely natural to assume it now. She couldn’t meet his brilliant amber eyes, but she felt his gaze playing over her body like a laser beam—breasts, belly, hips, pubes, all seared by that fierce, knowing stare. Her nipples felt huge, hot, a bit bruised from his earlier attentions. Her zipper hung open, a lewd invitation, while her clit tingled and throbbed, trapped in the tight, wet confines of her trousers. Her breath came fast and shallow. She’d never been so excited in her life.

Absolutely lovely.” He released another lascivious chuckle. “I’m really going to enjoy this. But I suppose we must go through the formalities, right?” His voice took on a scary edge. “Gwen Diamante, do you yield to me? Do you consent to be my sexual slave?”

She almost came, just from the question.

Yes,” she whispered, her chest tight with emotion. It was actually happening, the scene she’d imagined so many times. It was real.

You agree to obey my orders in every particular? To let me use your body however I wish, provided I do you no permanent harm?”

Yes—yes, Sir.”

And you agree that I can punish you when you fail to satisfy me—or when it pleases me to do so?”

Punish. Oh, God! The very word melted her. Would he whip her? Cane her? Images of the varied modes of discipline she’d explored in her books flashed through her mind. The possibilities made her dizzy.

Well, Gwen? Do you consent?”

Oh, um, sorry. I consent—I think. But…” Sudden doubt flared as rationality momentarily vanquished lust.

But what? What is it, my dear?”

She ventured a glance at his face. He wore an expression of kindness. Was it genuine, or simply a mask?

I don’t know you at all. How do I know I can trust you?”

A gentle smile lit his aristocratic features. “Ah, my skeptical little slave! Do you need another demonstration of my power? Shall we make your submission conditional, too? Don’t you want this?”

I’m sorry, Sir. I do. You know I do. I’m just frightened.”

I understand, Gwen. You’ll have a safe word, for tonight at least. If you want me to stop what I’m doing, at any time, just say ‘angel’. All right?”

Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Her arousal reasserted itself as he rose and stepped toward her, stopping only inches away. He seemed taller somehow as he loomed over her, his eyes filled with golden fire. Heat radiated from his compact form. She felt herself melting, losing all definition, all sense of who she was. He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead then trailed his fingers along her throat, down to her cleavage. She thought for a moment that he’d kiss her. A wild need to taste him drove everything else from her thoughts.

Instead, he retreated back toward the armchair, where he removed and neatly folded his suit jacket. Next he unbuckled his belt and slipped it out of the loops on his trousers. He stroked the strip of leather back and forth across his palm.

A queasy thrill tightened Wendy’s belly.

Now, I want you to strip. Then kneel, there on the cushion, with your head down, your thighs spread and your ass in the air.”

She was on her knees in thirty seconds.


Don't forget to leave me a comment!

Saturday, April 22, 2017

Authors and Readers -- help gay men in Chechnya! ( #charity #lgbtq #chechenrainbow )


 
You might not have heard about this. When you do, you’ll likely be as sick and angry as I am.

Apparently, over the last month, authorities in Chechnya have been rounding up gay men (and even those suspected of being gay) and confining them to detention camps. The New York Times reports at least 100 arrests and three deaths.

This sounds like a scene from my dystopian gay romance Quarantine. But that’s supposed to be speculative fiction...

A group of authors is mobilizing to help raise money to help the victims, as well as to expand awareness of this emergency situation. You can find out more here:


Some of us are donating money from our book sales to organizations helping the victims of this purge. Some are offering items for auction. I’m auctioning off two paperback copies of Quarantine. Seems grimly appropriate. The auction will be held between May 5th and May 12th. See the link above for details.

If you’re an author, I hope you’ll consider adding your voice and your work to this effort. If you’re a reader, please participate in the auction. We’re expecting some great prizes to come on the block. Of course you can always donate directly to the Russian LGBT Network, the main organization helping to get gay men in Chechnya to safety. For details, see Dale’s blog: https://dalecameronlowry.com/help-save-lives-lgbt-chechens/

Whatever you do, don’t be silent. Don’t let this injustice and inhumanity stand.

Thank you.



When love is forbidden, the whole world's a prison.

Dylan Moor will do anything for freedom. Seven years ago, a gay plague spread to heterosexuals, killing millions and sparking brutal anti-gay riots. The guardians rounded up men who tested positive for the Homogene and imprisoned them in remote quarantine centres like desolate Camp Malheur. Since then, Dylan has hacked the camp's security systems and hoarded spare bits of electronics, seeking some way to escape. He has concluded the human guards are the only weakness in the facility's defences.

Camp guard Rafe Cowell is H-Negative. He figures the lust he feels watching prisoner 3218 masturbate on the surveillance cameras must be due to his loneliness and isolation. When he finally meets the young queer, he discovers that Dylan is brilliant, brave, sexy as hell—and claims to be in love with Rafe. Despite his qualms, Rafe find he can't resist the other man's charm. By the time Dylan asks for his help in escaping, Rafe cares too much for Dylan to refuse.

Dylan's plan goes awry and Rafe comes to his rescue. Soon they're both fugitives, fleeing from militant survivalists, murderous androids, homophobic ideologues and a powerful man who wants Dylan as his sexual toy. Hiding in the plague-ravaged city of Sanfran, Dylan and Rafe learn there's far more that their own safety at stake. Can they help prevent the deaths of millions more people? And can Rafe trust the love of a man who deliberately seduced him in order to escape from quarantine?

Rainbow Awards Honorable Mention – Best science fiction novel – 2012!

The fact was, no one really knew who the Guardians were. At the height of the Plague, thousands had been dying daily. The streets stank from the smoke of burning bodies and torched buildings. Crazed mobs had roamed the cities, looking for the ‘carriers’ they blamed for the death of their loved ones. The fact that gays had been dying twice as fast as straights hadn’t stopped them.

Then the Robbies had marched in, a small army, with Tasers and tear gas. At first, some people had screamed about an alien invasion. Within hours, the messages began coming from ‘the Guardians of American Greatness’, urging people to be calm, promising to contain the scourge of the perverts. Gradually, the chaos had subsided.

Dylan vividly remembered being dragged to the testing centre by a pair of robots. They’d smashed in the door of the Castro District apartment he’d shared with his lover. Miguel’s body had been sprawled on their bed, his coffee-coloured skin riddled with the oozing sores that were the Plague’s mark. Dylan had been crouched on the floor, crying and rocking back and forth, while explosions shook the building and sirens wailed.

He hadn’t put up any fight. What would have been the use? Miguel was dead. The world was in flames. He’d been seventeen.

But he was ready to fight now. He’d do whatever was necessary to get out of this hell. Dylan reached into the basin of the chemical toilet, feeling around the inside rim. The slimy plastoceramic surface made his skin crawl. Ammonia fumes burned his nostrils. He grinned as his fingers found the item he sought. Detaching the object from the hook he’d installed, he brought out an oblong about the size of a cig pack.

He unwrapped the protective plastic and switched on the controller. The organic LCD screen glowed pale blue. He’d lifted it from a discarded microwave oven. His fingers danced over the keyboard, composing his message. The interface was crude but adequate for his needs.

Closing his eyes, he brought up an image of the brawny black guard who was his target. What would work best? He didn’t know much about Rafe—he hadn’t been able to hack the guy’s dossier. He could read boredom and frustration in the man’s strong, regular features. He knew from their first encounter that Rafe had a temper. Yet Dylan also sensed a streak of decency. Most of the human guards at Malheur were supposed to be convicts. Let the dregs take care of the pariahs seemed to be the Guardians’ philosophy. Rafe hadn’t struck him as the criminal type, though, despite his rough looks.

Clearly Rafe was attracted to men, or at least to Dylan. But he probably didn’t consider himself queer. Best not to be too explicit in the message, then. It would be better to allow Rafe to deceive himself about his motives.

Dylan completed his task, scheduled the message, and pressed ‘Send’. If all went well, the invitation would be delivered to Rafe on his private channel tomorrow afternoon. Dylan returned the controller to its hiding place, washed his hands, and returned to his bunk. It was a bit after three a.m. Rafe would be working his shift in the control room.

Dylan pulled down his trousers. His cock was already hard from thinking about Rafe. He stroked its length, lingering at the tip. Time for the night’s show.