The Power of First Love – #SecondChanceRomance #Memory #Idealism

By J. Arlene Culiner (Guest Blogger)

Don’t we all have a memory tucked away of someone we once loved, someone we just might have stayed with had the circumstances been right? And what would happen if we came face-to-face with that person today? Would the magic still be there? Would our hands tremble and our knees knock together as they did back then? Or would we just stare, appalled, wonder how we could have been so silly?

The idea of meeting a romantic ex was just intriguing enough to write about. My hero —Marek Sumner— and my heroine—Felicity Powers—first meet in San Francisco. The year is 1971, a time when idealists thought they could change the world, that the looming problems of pollution, poverty and over-population would be tackled, and unjust wars could be stopped.

Felicity is a strong, determined young woman who always fights for what she believes in, and refuses to conform to the fashionable ideas of the moment. Marek, intelligent, romantic, knows that life will be exciting with Felicity as his partner. But relationships require a certain amount of sacrifice, and compromise. Marek demands security and a family; Felicity craves adventure. And so, their romance ends.

In a way… Because, even forty years later, Felicity has never forgotten Marek. She has spent her life as a foreign aid worker, has been in danger countless times, and done exactly what she set out to do. And despite all that, she knows Marek was the love of her life.

What does Marek think all these years later? He’s never forgotten Felicity. And when they meet up again in San Francisco it’s great to see her. Even in her sixties she looks wonderful. And sexy. But start over? After all these years? He’s too smart for that. Who needs turbulence and drama?

That’s not how Felicity sees things. And when they spend a few days down in a forgotten cove on the California coast, anything can happen.

Blurb

San Francisco, 1971: hippies in the streets, music and revolution in the air. The evening Marek Sumner opened his door to the wild-looking Felicity Powers, he knew nothing would ever be the same. But even love and passion couldn’t keep them together.

Forty-three years later, having lived in the world’s most dangerous places as an aid worker, Felicity is back, still offering love, passion, and adventure. Now a well-known author, Marek loves his calm life in an isolated farmhouse, and he knows their relationship would never work : he and Felicity are just too different. Besides, why risk having his heart broken a second time?

But Felicity is as fascinating and joyful as ever, and the wonderful sexy magic is still there too. Can love be more delightful the second time around?

Available in paperback, e-book, and audiobook

Purchase links: 
https://books2read.com/FelicitysPower

Excerpt

She didn’t even bother hiding her bold curiosity, or that she was observing, noting, judging. Well, let her judge him if she wanted. He didn’t have to justify himself, his life, or his taste.

“A simple student’s apartment, as you see,” said Marek, dryly, breaking the silence.

Her smile was amused as she turned to him, her gaze unwavering. “At least there’s nothing horrible.”

“Horrible?” He arched an eyebrow, attempting to meet her condescension with a sneer of his own. “Such as a corpse under the desk? A blood-stained hatchet? You must be disappointed.”

She laughed. It changed her entire face, transforming the almost severe, hawk-like features into something warmer, something infinitely touching. Her teeth were white, perfect; her smile was broad. Her head tilted back slightly on a long, elegant neck.

He was intensely aware that his fingers ached to reach out and touch her, pull her toward him, press her body against his, but he didn’t dare. Indeed, he hardly trusted himself to move lest she vanish.

“I should have said vulgar,” she corrected, still grinning. “That’s even worse.”

“A blood-stained hatchet sounds good?”

“Wait!” She held up one hand in delighted protest. “This has nothing to do with blood and hatchets and corpses. And the word tacky is even better than vulgar.”

“Tacky. I see. More or less... ”

“You know. Posters of bare feet glued onto the ceiling, drinking glasses with nude women, or ceramic cups that look like breasts.”

“I strike you as the kind of person who’d own stuff like that?” He forced himself to look offended.

“Looks can be deceiving. They usually are.”

What image did she have of him? “How about a deck of pornographic playing cards with bare-assed men wearing short black socks and shiny shoes? Is that tacky enough for you?”

“Right! That really is one hundred percent tacky.” She stopped, looked at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve got those!”

“Okay. I won’t.”

“No. Wait. I didn’t mean what I said. If you do have dirty playing cards, I want to know.”

Why did she want to know? “Tell me first if tacky is positive or negative.”

“Are you joking? I just want to see you implicate yourself before things get going.”

“Before what things get going?” A wild desire to laugh bubbled up inside of him.

For the first time, she seemed to lose a little bit of her bright assurance. Something flickered in her eyes. Her expression changed again.

“Mind if I take a seat?”

About the Author

Writer, artist, and photographer, Jill (J.) Arlene Culiner, grew up in Toronto but now lives in France. She has crossed much of Europe on foot, has lived on the Great Hungarian Plain, in a Bavarian castle, a Turkish cave dwelling, and a haunted house on the English moors. She now resides in a 400-year-old former inn in a French village where she protects spiders, snakes, and weeds. She delights in ridiculous or romantic stories, and loves gossip.

She has won the Tanenbaum Prize in Canadian Jewish History, the Canadian Jewish Literary Award for Memoir, the Bookish Magazine Award, the Bookish Reader’s Pick Award, was shortlisted for the Foreword Magazine Prize, and twice for the Page Turner Awards.

Author Website: https://www.j-arleneculiner.com/felicity-s-power

http://www.j-arleneculiner.com

Newsletter: https://www.j-arleneculiner.com/newsletter

Author Links: https://linktr.ee/j.arleneculiner

Storytelling podcast: https://soundcloud.com/j-arlene-culiner

 

The imprint of his fingers lingered – #AsianAdventures #AngkorWat #MFRWHooks

Happy Wednesday! My MFRW Book Hooks post for today comes from another title in my Asian Adventures series. As you might guess from the vivid descriptions, Citadel of Women borrows from my own trip to Angkor Wat, nearly twenty years ago. I understand that it has changed now, becoming much more slick and touristic. When I visited, though, the experience was a bit more of a true adventure.

Blurb

Passion flares among the ruins of an ancient empire

When her lover severs their relationship just before a long-planned trip to Angkor Wat, Doa stubbornly decides to travel alone. The marvelous sights of the ancient Khmer empire do little to heal the rift in her heart. Che, the mercurial young tour guide, senses her loneliness and offers her comfort and passion. Their connection is far more than physical – but how can two people from such different worlds share a future?

The Hook

For the rest of the afternoon, I tried to be a good tourist. When images of Laurel surfaced, I suppressed them, focusing on and photographing the wonders around me – the lichen-crusted towers and walls, the slick green surface of the palace pool, the stone elephants on the friezes, and the live ones waiting for tourists. I snapped a shot of Mrs. Ishida, perched atop one of the beasts, her face a cross between elation and terror. I captured Che's animation as he lectured to his flock in the courtyard at Bayon, guarded by the immense faces carved above. My camera caught his lanky grace, scrambling goat-like up to the peak of the Baphuon Temple.

He was a riddle, alternately tough and soft. So different from most men I'd known. He was proud, clearly, but not arrogant. Physically he was enchanting, with his golden skin, his androgynous, Buddha-like features, and a fluid energy that made his every movement a delight to watch.

We gathered on the summit, sweaty and out of breath. The sun drifted toward the western horizon. The whole city of god-kings spread out around us.

“The rulers of Angkor built their temples to reflect the Hindu view of the universe. The central tower and its four smaller towers at the cardinal directions represent Mount Meru, home of the gods.” Che surveyed his audience, as if to satisfy himself that they were paying attention. “Even the Bayon, constructed by the great Jayavarman VII as a Buddhist shrine, follows the same scheme. The kings demonstrated their special relationship with heaven by duplicating its form in stone. Each king tried to outdo his predecessors by creating new, more magnificent monuments.”

We could see the city walls, a mile away on all sides, the slabbed roads running parallel, strictly aligned to the compass, and the tumbled peaks of all the temples and palaces we'd visited over the afternoon. A greenish mist rose from the barays, the pools Che told us were used for both water supply and ritual bathing. The sun slipped off the edge of the earth, painting the gathering clouds in shades of rose and gold. For a moment the whole scene shimmered, luminous and insubstantial, as though the massive edifices might detach themselves and rise into the azure sky.

Laurel would have loved this. The thought was a knife, slashing through my carefully maintained calm. Pain twisted in my belly. My chest tightened. I couldn't breathe. I wanted my baby so badly.

I imagined her beside me, my arm around her shoulder, her slender body pressed against mine, her gardenia perfume tickling my nostrils. I closed my eyes, as if by shutting out the marvelous scene I could banish her presence as well. The unseen world whirled around me. My feet stumbled on the uneven paving.

There was a hand on my arm, steadying me. I smelled soap and sweat.

“Doa,” came his voice, the English vowels sing-song on his tongue. “Doa?”

My eyes flew open. He stood close enough to me that I could see the damp stains on his shirt and the shadow of tomorrow's beard on his chin. His touch was cool on my sun-baked skin. I felt briefly dizzy again.

Shame chased away my sorrow. I couldn't bear to have this young stranger see my hurt.

“Oh, sorry. Probably just got a bit too much sun, just like you warned. I'm fine now. Really.”

Che's expression was kind, but the intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.

“Are you sure?” He still held my arm. “Let me help you down the steps.”

He made me nervous. Fresh sweat trickled into the crevice between my breasts. I was startled to realize the crotch of my jeans was damp as well. I hadn't been this close to a man in a long time. Not since I met Laurel.

“No, really, I'm okay. Thank you, though.”

“Any time,” he said, breaking into a grin. “That's what I'm here for.” Still, perhaps sensing my discomfort, he let me go. “All right, ladies and gentlemen,” he called, gathering the figures wandering around on top of the temple. “Let's get back to the hotel.”

As I hurried down to the bus, I wondered at my paradoxical arousal.

Dinner was served on the hotel terrace overlooking a small garden. The moist air was a soft, heavy blanket, laced with the scents of jasmine and mosquito coils. Two dim bulbs lit the scene with a golden glow. Our group sat together at a long table, consuming spicy fish, garlicky vegetables, and mounds of rice. I sat at the far end, nearest the garden, listening to the multi-lingual chatter, the clink of silverware, the droning of the insects in the trees. I had never felt so alone.

All at once, he was there, settling his loose-limbed frame into the chair across from me. He plunked an amber bottle misted with condensation down in front of me. “You look like you could use this.”

He took a swig from his own beer. Not knowing what to say, I did the same. The icy liquid slid down my throat.

“Good?”

I nodded and drank again before turning the bottle to examine the label. “Angkor Beer?” I laughed.

“Why not? One of our leading exports.” He tilted the bottle back. I watched his brown throat move as he swallowed. “Possibly the only thing most people know about my country.”

“Really?” It was difficult to talk to him, difficult not to stare at his mobile, expressive face. Fortunately, the beer offered a convenient alternative to conversation.

We drank for a while in silence. I wondered how I could politely excuse myself.

He replaced his bottle on the table. “You really miss her, don't you?”

My eyes filled with tears. Somehow, though, it was a relief to admit it to someone, even to him. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Is she your lover?” I'd read Cambodia was a conservative country, but Che didn't seem shocked by the idea at all.

“Was. She broke it off just before we were supposed to leave on this trip.”

“Why?” The question was completely inappropriate, but I could see he wanted to know.

I buried my face in my hands. What could I say? How could he ever understand?

I heard the scrape of his chair as he rose. His hand rested briefly on my bare shoulder. “Whatever the reason,” he murmured, “I think she was crazy.”

By the time I looked up, he had returned to his seat at the other end of the table. “Make it an early night,” he told the group. “We've got to be up at five tomorrow.” He did not look at me again, but still the imprint of his fingers lingered on my flesh.

Find the buy links at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/citadelofwomenbook.html

Or enjoy the full series, free on Kindle Unlimited: https://www.amazon.com/Asian-Adventures-Erotic-tales-East-ebook/dp/B08XW69V2R/

Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today’s Book Hooks!

An epic love story from Rue Allyn – #Preorder #HistoricalRomance #Romantasy

Coming in May 2027 – the final book in the MacKai Brides saga

Sir Fionnlagh MacKai was a man without a heritage. Raised in a cruelly abusive environment, he escaped his miserable life. So desperate was he, that he faced a blizzard rather than continue being beaten and kicked without reason. That blizzard would have killed him had he not found a young girl and a gravid mare stranded in the snow. That girl became his best friend. Her family became his. That friendship grew into a love he could not deny despite the knowledge he lacked a heritage worthy of her.

Lady Artis MacKai had the gift of knowing. She knew rather than foresaw possible future events. At the age of eight she knew she must brave one of the highland’s worst blizzards to make sure of a gift promised by her murdered mother. The girl braved freezing cold, snow and wind to find the promised foal. She knew she would not perish, though no one else would ever believe her. She did not know she would meet a boy whose mere presence helped keep her alive. Nor did she know until many years later that she would sacrifice everything for love of him.

Pre-order/Buy Links

Books2Read URL https://books2read.com/u/4j9Ewo

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H654F91C

Excerpt

Then the wind began to rise. Dry and piercingly cold, it nearly froze her hands to the wooden tiller.

“A' Ghaoth Anoir,” she whispered, the ancient name for the terrible east wind.

Mist gathered around the ship.

“Harr.” Fionn murmured and pointed at the deep white fog advancing on the wind.

Legends told by the sailors who taught Artis sailcraft described the fates of those who’d found themselves surrounded by the thick, chilly fog and never come home. Everything from Selkies to Banshees and worse were blamed for the disappearance of those who vanished in the mists.

The current continued to spin their vessel with dizzying speed.

The now relentless wind made a sharp whistling noise as it tore at the sail Fionn struggled to keep furled.

“An Fheadag,” Fear increased the tremors cold sent through Artis’ body as she named the second of the two most fearsome winds striking at the same time?

How is this possible?

The temperature plummeted.

She half expected snow.

Instead, rime formed where sea spay clung to the birlinn. Her clothing turned white from the freezing mist. Across the ship she could scarce see Fionn’s pale face.

“What’s happening?” his call came hollow, weak and distant against the ploverlike whistling.

Artis opened her mouth to answer, but the ship suddenly shot forward sending her backward where her head impacted the gunwale. Pain lanced through her brain, and she lay still, praying she suffered no permanent injury. She prayed even harder that Fionn had not been knocked overboard.

The spinning current had been overcome by an easterly drift more powerful than any Artis had experienced.

The little birlinn fairly flew atop the waves at a speed that doubled if not tripled the small vessel’s normal sailing rate.

How long the ship traveled and how far was impossible to know. The Harr kept pace with the vessel, obscuring everything from sight. It blocked the sun and any other light source.

Without access to sun, moon, and stars, Artis could not tell where or when they were.

She must find Fionn, be certain he suffered no hurt. She grasped the gunwales on either side of her and began struggling to her feet when the wood beneath her rose. Some great wave lifted the birlinn. The ship would be tossed when the wave broke, but where? To another wave? To a shore? To dash against a rocky coast? Would she die and never see Fionn’s face again?

About the Author

I learned story telling at my grandfather’s knee. (Well it was really more like on his knee—I was two.) I've been weaving my own tales ever since. I have worked as an instructor, mother, sailor, clerk, sales associate, and house painter, along with a variety of other types of employment. I've lived in and traveled to places all over the globe from Keflavik Iceland (I did not care much for the long nights of winter.) and Fairbanks Alaska to Panama City and the streets of London England to a large number of places in between. Now that our two sons have left the nest, I and my husband of more than five decades (Try living with the same person for more than fifty years—that’s a true adventure...) have retired and moved south. When not writing, enjoying the nearby beach or working jigsaw puzzles, I travel the world and surf the internet in search of background material and inspiration for my next heart melting romance. I love to hear from readers, and you may contact me at Rue [at] RueAllyn [dot] com. I can't wait to hear from you.

Find Rue Allyn Online

Website~~https://RueAllyn.com

Facebook~~ https://www.facebook.com/groups/rueallyndaringdamsels

Amazon~~https://www.amazon.com/Rue-Allyn/e/B00AUBF3NI/

Goodreads~~https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5031290.Rue_Allyn

She wasn’t the shy type – #FridaySmooch #AsianAdventures

Since I’ve been gone for a few weeks, nothing’s been happening here on my blog. So let’s liven things up with a Friday Smooch post!

This is another snippet from my erotic romance short Singapore Fling, which I also featured for this week’s Book Hooks. This excerpt is a bit spicier... Hope you enjoy it!

The Smooch

He rested his graceful hands on the table and searched her face. His nostrils flared. Was he noticing her at last? His lips curled into a slow grin. “So—are you hungry?”

Was there a double meaning to that question? Ploy didn’t know. She didn’t care. She couldn’t wait any longer.

“Oh, yes...” she breathed. She stumbled a bit as she rose from her chair and launched herself at Jason. Throwing her arms around his neck, she pressed her lips to his.

Up close, he smelled even more delicious, clean and masculine. His mouth was firm, muscular, molding to hers as she deepened the kiss. It opened to her probing tongue; she tasted coffee and breath mints. He let her take the lead, sitting passive while she devoured him. That was okay. Ploy wasn’t the shy type.

His muscles shifted under his shirt as he turned to face her, their lips still locked. She mashed her breasts against his chest, stimulating her swollen nipples. Shameless, she climbed onto his lap, straddling his lean legs. Her straight skirt rode up, baring her thighs. The hardness prodding her sodden undergarments told her that he was aware of her after all.

“Oh, Jason!” she moaned, finally breaking the kiss. Releasing her grip on his neck, she brought her hand down to cup the promising bulk of his erection. “Looks like you’re hungry, too,” she murmured. “But I can help you with that...” She fumbled with his zipper, stretched tight by his bulging cock.

“No!” The Chinese entrepreneur jerked, as if she’d given him an electric shock. “Don’t!” The chair rolled backward, slamming into the wall as he pushed Ploy off his lap. She barely escaped tumbling to the floor.

“What?” She clutched the table to steady herself and tried to slow her breathing. “What’s wrong?”

“We can’t. Someone might come in and find us.”

“Everyone’s gone.” Indeed the outer offices were empty and dim.

“Sometimes the engineers come back to work after dinner,” he protested. His sudden panic puzzled her. His eyes were wild with something that looked like fear, but the tenting in his trousers remained prominent.

“Let’s go to your place, then,” she urged. “Or my hotel. It’s an easy walk.”

“No, no—I’m sorry—I should never have allowed...” He wrung his hands, looking worried and lost. What had happened to the calm, self-confident genius she’d admired all afternoon? Jason suddenly seemed a decade younger than his thirty years.

 

Find individual buy links at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/singaporeflingbook.html

Or on KU: https://www.amazon.com/Asian-Adventures-Erotic-tales-East-ebook/dp/B08XW69V2R

A sojourn in Singapore – #MFRWHooks #EroticRomance #Asia

I just got back from a vacation that included several fantastic days in Singapore. So I thought I’d give you a Book Hooks snippet set in that remarkable city. Singapore Fling is part of my Asian Adventures series. The stories are available individually, or as a boxed set in KU.

Blurb

Thai entrepreneur Ploy Kaewkornwattanasakul has come to Singapore to close a deal. Ploy needs to convince tech whiz Jason Chow to license his ground-breaking innovation to her company on favorable terms. The future of her startup depends on her negotiating skill. When she meets Jason, though, she realizes she wants not just the invention, but the inventor, too.

Jason Chow is a brilliant engineer, a successful businessman and a bit of a rebel. He’s attracted to Ploy from the moment he sets eyes on her. However, he doesn’t dare respond to her advances, for fear she’ll discover his secret vice.

Ploy doesn’t understand why the sexy CEO has rejected her. She figures she’ll have to content herself with the cold comfort of a signed contract—unless the strength of Jason’s desire overwhelms his shame.

The Hook

Interia’s offices were exactly what Ploy had expected, functional but unprepossessing, crammed with desks, computer equipment and filing cabinets. Half a dozen more or less interchangeable Chinese guys sat in front of their monitors, some staring intently at the screen, others typing furiously. They barely looked up when Ploy entered. However, a diminutive young woman seated at a corner desk rose to greet her.

“Ms. Kaewkornwattanasakul?” The pronunciation was pretty close to correct.

Ploy flashed the girl a warm smile. “You can call me Surisa. That’s a lot easier. Or better yet, Ploy. My nickname.”

“Okay—um—Ms. Ploy. Mr. Chow just messaged me. He’s on his way.”

“Great! I am a bit early, I think.” Two minutes. She was grateful they’d renovated the elevators in the old building. She’d been worried about being late.

“If you’ll follow me, please...” The secretary led the way between the desks to a small conference room near the back of the office suite. An oval table and eight surrounding chairs barely fit into the space. However, a lovely view compensated for the crowding.

Instead of the concrete and glass cityscape Ploy expected, the window on the far wall looked out on a paradise of green. A hill rose behind the office building, probably less than half a kilometer away. For the most part, it appeared to be covered with natural vegetation. In the foreground lay several rows of low buildings, but behind them, she saw a steep slope carpeted in foliage. She thought she could see walkways among the old trees. The whole scene looked cool and inviting.

“That’s Pearl Hill,” said the secretary. “There’s a park up there, and a reservoir.”

“It’s beautiful,” Ploy replied. “I didn’t realize there were any parks in this part of the city.”

“At last estimate, more than forty seven percent of Singapore was green space, the second highest percentage of any city in the world,” a male voice interjected. “And the government has policies to increase that proportion.”

Ploy turned away from the window to face the speaker. It took every ounce of her considerable self-discipline not to gasp in shock.

Standing in the doorway was the man from the food court.

“Mr. Chow, this is Ms. Surisa from ShopGuru,” said the receptionist.

The CEO of Interia strode into the office, his hand outstretched. He was even taller than he’d appeared while sitting at his table, at least a head taller than Ploy. “Jason Chow. I’m glad to meet you at last.”

“Mr. Chow. Please call me Ploy.” She was astonished but grateful that her voice didn’t shake. His palm was dry against her own. Her panties were anything but.

“Fine. I hope you’ll call me Jason.” His even voice and neutral expression showed no indication that he recognized her. But how could he not?

With some difficulty due to the crowding, he seated himself at the head of the table. “Sit down, please. I’m sorry about the lack of space.”

Ploy gave him what she hoped was a collegial smile. “I understand. We’re a startup too.” She wormed her way into a chair with her back to the window. She did not want to be distracted.

Chow gave a low chuckle. “True. Would you like coffee or tea?”

“I’d love some coffee.”

“Anna, would you bring two coffees? And tell Franklin and James to join us.”

The young woman hurried away, leaving the two of them alone. Ploy rummaged in her purse to avoid looking at him. “Let me give you my card....”

The man waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. He had long, slender fingers. Ploy immediately wished she hadn’t noticed this fact. She couldn’t help imaging them exploring her increasingly juicy orifices.

“That’s not necessary,” he said. “This is the twenty-first century. And I already know about you, after all.”

Ploy blushed—she could feel the blood climbing into her cheeks. Fortunately, Jason was looking at his tablet, not at her. He seemed to be reviewing her resume.

“Bachelors and masters in engineering from Chulalongkorn University. The Harvard of Thailand, or so I’ve heard.”

“Not the same...” she began.

“Then a stint with Microsoft Thailand and another with Google.” He raised his head. She realized that he was wearing his glasses. Alas, they made him look even sexier. “Why’d you leave?”

“Why did you quit your research job at Nanyang University?” she countered. “I wanted to be my own boss.”

“And you had an idea,” he added. “One that you thought could be the basis for a successful business.”

“Exactly,” she replied, grateful that he had adopted such a professional manner. “Just like you. Except that Interia has ten times more investment than we do.”

He peered at her over the top of his glasses and smiled. “Well, it’s not how much you have that counts, is it? It’s what you do with it.”

Find individual buy links at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/singaporeflingbook.html

Or on KU: https://www.amazon.com/Asian-Adventures-Erotic-tales-East-ebook/dp/B08XW69V2R

Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today’s MFRW Book Hooks!

The Camp Shifter Series by DJ Jennings is Now in KU!

This paranormal romantic comedy series features standalone stories set at Camp Shifter, a mandatory training facility where adults receive "The Letter" summoning them to learn shifter ways. After experiencing The Morph—the transformation that reveals their animal nature—they must master everything from controlling their shifter forms to navigating public nudity with confidence. Camp Shifter provides classes taught by experienced shifters and serves as a community where people from all walks of life must accept a reality fundamentally altered by their newfound status.

Throughout the series, Camp Shifter serves as the backdrop for fated mate romances featuring humor, heat, and heart. Special events like DarkNight create opportunities for connection in a community where transformation extends beyond the physical. With big misunderstandings, opposites-attract dynamics, and forced proximity bringing unlikely pairs together, these romantic comedies blend lighthearted fun with sensual content as characters learn that accepting their shifter identities and finding love often go hand in hand.

Owl Be Bear for You

Hot summer fun where you’ll change…in more ways than one.
Librarian Mara Scioto lives a nice, neat, orderly existence—except when she’s being attacked by uncontrolled male shifters who need to mate. 

Pesky little detail, right? 

Raised by a grandmother who hates all shifters, she has one wish: to make it past the age of twenty-five without experiencing The Morph that tells you you’re one of them.

And then the letter from Camp Shifter arrives with her name on it...

Orthopedic surgeon in training Jack Karsten is waiting to see if he’ll follow in his shifter brother’s footsteps. Being a shifter won’t be so bad, if that’s his destiny, but when he meets Mara, he realizes that fate and love don’t always align. 

But love always wins.

It can be a bear of an ordeal sorting it all out, but if anyone can help, it’s the staff at Camp Shifter. While they’ll train Jack and Mara on the ways of shifter life, there’s one thing they can’t teach them:

How to get out of their own way and let love leave them changed. 

Forever.

You Shook Me Howl Night Long

Eliot “Pole” Elianzo is a god in college football, and he knows it. Too bad he’s also a polar bear. The Morph happens on national television, right after a pro team picks him in the draft. It’s official–Pole is a shifter. And boy, is he livid. He can’t choose practice over his mandatory stay at Camp Shifter, but he sure can make camp a nightmare for everyone. Especially the hot ash blonde who’s teaching Undressed in Public 101 classes. 

Risa Devaneau can’t believe Pole’s in her class, in the first row, and very, very undressed. The former sportscaster and wolf shifter ran away from her testosterone-filled career for the quiet peace of Camp Shifter. Sure, teaching people how to be undressed in public isn’t exactly the most prestigious job, but it got her away from the city. From her overly controlling politician father. From her past. From Pole. And here he is, smirking at her, front and center. In his birthday suit.

DarkNight of the Moon

He lurks in shadows and mystery at Camp Shifter, coming out only during DarkNight, the wild, bacchanalian free-for-all where anything goes. 

Anything.

No one has seen him in the daylight, no one knows where he lives, no one knows his name–and the shifter nicknamed DarkLover by women, DarkDude by men, will do anything to keep it that way.

Andie Cumbington has been waiting her whole life for The Letter. One of the few shifters who is ecstatic about her newfound status, the chestnut-haired ballerina bear shifter arrives for her month at Camp Shifter with unbridled excitement. On her first DarkNight, she finds wild passion and–to her surprise–so much more, with a stranger who touches her heart as much as he lights up her body.

And then he’s gone, back into the shadows, hidden.

Exactly where he wants to be. 

Craving his touch with an insatiable desire, Andie can’t let go. She always wanted the roll in the hay, but she never imagined the passion would be so intense.

Fate drives her to find love.

Then a simple errand turns into mortal danger for Andie, and an impossible choice as DarkLover must overcome his biggest fear in order to save the woman he loves.

But will it be too late?

Buy Links

Amazon/KU Series Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PT45ZLW

Amazon/KU Link for Owl Be Bear for You ($4.99): https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B073ZMCJPX

Amazon/KU Link for You Shook Me Howl Night Long ($4.99): https://www.amazon.com/Shook-Howl-Night-Long-Shifter/dp/1799035832/

Amazon/KU Link for DarkNight of the Moon ($4.99): https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1950172147

Tropes

Owl Be Bear For You

• Fated Mates

• Big Misunderstanding

• Librarian Heroine

• Opposites Attract

• Awkward Hero

• Hidden Shifter Identity

• Romantic Comedy

• Forced Proximity

You Shook Me Howl Night Long

• Second Chance Romance

• Celebrity Athlete Hero

• Former Rivals/Reunion Romance

• Forced Proximity

• Fish Out of Water

• Wolf Shifter Romance

• Camp Romance

• Opposites Attract

DarkNight of the Moon

• Mysterious Hero

• Beauty and the Beast Vibes

• Grumpy/Sunshine

• Protector Hero

• Hidden Identity

• Dark Paranormal Romance

• Fated Mates

• Dangerous Secrets

• Redemption Arc

Excerpt: DarkNight of the Moon

Andie sat in her 9 a.m. class, Meditation and Your Inner Shifter, and tried really hard to be aware and present.

She failed.

Shira Prakash was a wise old woman, slow and incredibly bendy. As she stared at her teacher’s braid, the long, tight weave of it going all the way down past the woman’s butt crack, Andie wondered whether Shira was a snake or a sloth. She’d learned here at Camp Shifter that asking someone what kind of animal they were could be a landmine. Some people were excited to share the reality with you.

Others found the question to be an invasion of privacy.

Andie was an open book, so she didn’t understand the people who were more introverted and secretive about the kind of animal they became when nature took over. Weren’t they all here to learn about and explore the core self?

These thoughts filled her mind, all jumbled and spinning as she sat with her legs crossed, the backs of her hands pressing into her knees. If she were being graded for Meditation and Your Inner Shifter, she would definitely be failing the course.

“Imagine your core animal,” Shira said, her elegant fingers stretching long and splayed as she moved her arm to the right, like a large bird, wings and feathers spreading. “You are receiving their vibration into your root chakra.”

A fox shifter named Sally leaned over and whispered, “What’s a chakra?”

Andie’s stomach growled in response. “I don’t know, but it sounds pretty tasty.”

Giggling, Sally quickly righted herself and closed her eyes again, hands in proper meditation position as the teacher cocked one eyebrow but said nothing. The fox's red hair rested in long tendrils on her shoulders, her slightly slanted eyes beautiful when closed.

“If it is hard to focus,” Shira said, “consider labeling what you are experiencing inside, as you attempt to peel back layer after layer to access your inner shifter. No one is perfect when it comes to meditation. In fact, that is why we call it practice,” she continued.

Andie felt an enormous sense of relief at that. At least there was a reason why she couldn’t figure out how to do this. Calming her mind was as foreign to her as climbing Mount Everest.

“When you find yourself invaded by stray thoughts that take you away from accessing the emptiness that you seek, just give them a name: ‘That’s a thought.’ When you think about lunch as you’re trying to find your inner animal, think to yourself, ‘That’s a thought.’ When your mind drifts to a bill you forgot to pay, or a craving for coffee, or ‘Did I remember to take my medication this morning?’, just tell yourself, ‘Oh! That’s a thought’; ‘Oh! That’s a thought.’”

Sally leaned over and whispered, “And if you can’t stop thinking about DarkLover, ‘Oh! That’s a thought.’”

Andie covered her mouth, giggling hard. She had felt him outside, her pores tingling and alert, aware of him out there. How do you go through session after session of training, she wondered to herself, when the very person you want to meet most is there on the periphery? He was on the edges of the camp, she knew.

No one had told her this. It was more than instinct, even. She knew it, the way that she knew who she was. It was there, planted deep inside her by some force she didn’t understand. Nothing in her life had compared to this feeling, pure sensation and an intuitive knowing combined inside to create a strange power that connected her to him.

Was she imagining this? Was her obsession with DarkLover running amok, just some wish-fulfillment frenzy that she was indulging?

She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she met him.

About the Author

The author of the Camp Shifter series, Darla Josephine “DJ” Jennings, is originally from Ohio but now lives in Massachusetts in a household full of people who drive her nuts, but she loves them anyhow. She fills her days with writing, business management, and the never-ending task of herding cats. Learn more about her in the New York Times bestselling novel, Random Acts of Crazy by Julia Kent, where she stars as one of the main characters. That’s right! DJ Jennings isn’t real, but Julia Kent sure is.

Website: http://jkentauthor.com/

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