Saturday, May 31, 2014

Cover Reveal - The Ingredients of Bliss

Normally I'd have a guest today, but she never showed up. Meanwhile, I just received my cover for The Ingredients of Bliss from the fabulous Totally Bound art director, Emmy Ellis. So I thought I'd share it with you today - just to keep you from getting bored!

The book is a full length novel which is a sequel to Her Secret Ingredient.  Here's the blurb:

One sexy French chef. One kinky American TV producer. One ambitious Chinese gal who thinks she wants them both. The ingredients of bliss? Or a recipe for disaster?

Accomplished cook Mei Lee ‘Emily’ Wong knows exactly what she wants—her own show on the Tastes of France food channel. But life is full of complications. First, her deceptively nerdy producer Harry Sanborne initiates Emily into the delights of submission. Then her boss, legendary chef Etienne Duvalier, begs her to dominate him. Emily just can’t resist – especially when Harry orders her to explore her inner mistress. Suave and sexy Etienne will do whatever she asks, in the bedroom if not in the kitchen. And Harry, her lovingly diabolical Dom, adores pushing Emily’s limits. 
When the network sends the trio to France to shoot a series of cooking shows on location, Emily knows her career is on the upswing. Her plans fall apart in Marseille as a Hong Kong drug syndicate kidnaps both Etienne and Harry. The Iron Hammer Triad mistakes Etienne for notorious gangster Jean Le Requin, who has stolen their drug shipment, worth millions. Emily realizes she must find the real Le Requin, retrieve the purloined dope, and bargain it for Harry’s and Etienne’s lives. The secret she’s been keeping from Harry might prove useful. Still, what chance does one woman whose knife skills are limited to chopping vegetables have against the ruthless cruelty of two criminal organizations?


I'm working on edits right now and the book should be available in early August.

Thursday, May 29, 2014

Please, and Thank You

First, let me remind you that there are just two days left to my special VIP readers contest. I'm giving away two $10 gift certificates - but you are only eligible if you're a member of my private email list. Of course, you can always join... just send me a note at lisabet [at] lisabetsarai [dot] com and I'll get you set up. Then I'll tell you what you have to do to enter the drawing. (It's nothing onerous!) 

Anyway, one of the members of my VIP readers list, someone I've "known" for years, always signs her contest entries:

Please, and thank you.

I was thinking today about how lovely that is. I can picture her smiling when I read her closings. Her notes brim with warmth. And that makes me smile.

In our supersonic, high-tech world, civility sometimes gets lost. People are not deliberately impolite, most of the time. It's just that everyone is so busy, so overstressed and overstimulated. Modern life has become brusque and cold.

In the old days, we were comfortable taking a few moments just to chat, to relax and enjoy the pleasures of others' society. We wrote letters (remember letters? written on paper? with a pen?) that began with a salutation ("Dear Aunt Jennifer"), and ended with a closing ("Yours truly" or "With love"...)  And politeness was important, at least in my family. Politeness showed your respect for others. Acting polite also showed that you were "brought up" well, that you were comfortable observing the niceties, that you had "class".

I sometimes wonder what today's kids think about such notions. With text-speak and Twitterese taking over the language, do "please" and "thank you" sound weird and old-fashioned? When I text, I find I can't bring myself to leave out the formalities, even if I abbreviate them to "Pls" and "Thks".

Anyway, I personally value politeness, more than ever as it becomes more rare. And so I'll say to all of you who are reading this - please share it with your friends who might not realize how much a difference civility makes.

Thank you!

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Dreams and Nightmares - Blog Tour and Giveaway!

By Danita Minnis (Guest Blogger)

Welcome to the Dreams and Nightmares Anthology Blog Hop! We are celebrating the release of our anthology with fabulous gifts for you. Each author featured in the anthology is giving away a copy of one of their books. But that’s not all. The Grand Prize is a signed print copy of The Dreams and Nightmares Anthology!

Use the Rafflecopter widget at the end of this post for a chance to win and hop along to the next blog for more chances to win! (You also need to leave a comment with your email.)


Dreams and nightmares are like twilight; that misty place between fantasy and reality.

When your mind takes you on an adventure you didn’t sign up for and you become someone or something else, it can be delectable, terrifying, or both.

Dreaming of that sexy bad boy who seems out of reach? Be careful what you wish for, sometimes dreams really do come true. If you have the time, we have the past life to seduce you. Whether your fantasy is a lustful mermaid, an irresistible incubus, a vampiric predator, or an insatiable ghost hold on tight. You are on the most erotic ride of your life.

When your desires blend so thoroughly with the truth that you don’t know the difference, that’s when romance is but a dream.

Adderley’s Bride by Danita Minnis

Sofie is a singer, baker and a serious planner. When she finds her rocker boyfriend up against the wall in a vocal booth with a back-up singer, her five-year plan for a home and family is dubbed over like a bad music track.

Gray, a lusty ghost who acts like she is his long-dead fiancée invades her dreams and works her body over, night and after night. It isn’t long before Sofie’s plans include her beguiling lover, a ghost man with a plan of his own; be with me. Nice plan if you call that living…


He came up behind her at the island as she was kneading dough for the beignets.

The spacious kitchen should have been cold in the middle of the night but the hard body against her back enveloped her in warmth. She curled into him. At five-foot-four, her head only reached his chest. His pecs were a firm pillow.

In the seductive veil of the dream, her peripheral vision blurred so that she felt more than she saw. The only light on in the kitchen was the overhead light which pulsed above them. A thought teased her consciousness that maybe it was not the overhead light at all, but something more.

“Ah, Sweet Sofie.” He shifted until he was nestled between her legs. “I am drawn to you like a moth to a flame.” His arms came over her and as he helped her knead the dough, his shaft slid in and out between her legs.

She sighed her pleasure and leaned her head against his chest. Watching his big hands over hers with flecks of the flour and sugar mixture coating the hair on his knuckles was an erotic vision of teamwork. She wondered how those hands would feel as they kneaded her flesh.

Their hands worked in time to the rhythm of his slide, in and out. Their fingers clenched onto the mound of dough as he pushed forward, and released as he slid out from between her thighs. Their heavy breathing was the only sound as they clenched and released, clenched and released…

A lazy heat flared between her legs, warming her to the core and making her hips rock back and forth. Her legs were giving way and she spread them wider to stay upright. She stopped kneading the dough to lean over and hold onto the island.

He grabbed her hair, wrapping it around his hand so that she had to lean her head back against him. “Don’t stop,” his gentle scolding tickled her ear. “I have not had a decent beignet since I arrived in these United States.” He released her hair and pressed closer. She was now trapped between the island and his lean hips. “I’ll hold you up.” His low chuckle was a hot vibration between her thighs. 

Get your copy of Dreams and Nightmares today!

Connect with Danita:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Monday, May 26, 2014

Cerise Deland Does Two Men at Once...

By Cerise DeLand (Guest Blogger)

You like more than one man?

Ah. Who doesn't?

I give you lots of them in my EC series KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER series in the little Texas town of Bravado!

First, we had Rope Me In when one woman found bliss with three brothers. 

Then, Tie Me Down, where a shibari master learned that the woman he wanted most, he'd tie down...permanently.


Then we had the prequel to all this in Steal Me Away when a Comanche stole an Anglo woman and kept her as his loving wife!

Now we have Bind Me Close with Sheriff Wade Saxon, a man who never lets any woman bind him...and who doesn't believe in sharing a woman with another man.

Too bad, isn't it, that the one woman he craves wants menage with a man whom Wade doesn't care for. The men have a past. One wherein Giles Benedict, the local doctor, got too close for comfort to the only other woman Wade liked.

You'll want this next story in the town where the men are good and plenty and the women wear only a smile!

All of these three previous are available right now on EC's page as well as on Amazon and other vendors.

The story?

Willow Turner is a big beautiful woman on a mission to research her famous Bravado ancestors for a family history she’s writing. But when a robber steals her rental car, she gets swept away by the big beautiful town sheriff. He’s gruff, he’s tough and surprisingly appealing. She loves surprises so nothing is more startling—or sexually exciting—than getting naked and partying privately with Wade Saxon.

Wade's a Dom who never gets involved with the women he plays with at the local BDSM club. But sassy Willow fascinates him and he yearns to bind her to him.

The question is can he break his own rules and give her the three-way and exhibitionism she craves? Because if he can’t, he won’t keep this independent lady in his bed for a few nights…let alone forever.

A nibble of my new cherry?

The scene: Sheriff Wade Saxon of Bravado County has just picked up Willow Turner whose car was stolen outside town by a jewel thief. As Wade chases the culprit, Willow and he get to know each other very well.
Hint: Willow has come to town to research the Turner-MacRae family history. She is a descendant of Fancy Turner and Bull Elk, Chief of the Comanche tribe in my prequel to the contemporaries Steal Me Away.

* * * * * *
Streaking past them going in the opposite direction was a white flash. Willow gasped. Certainly that was her car.

Saxon did a hand-over-hand circle of the steering wheel.

Willow grabbed at the dashboard and caught no traction. Jesus.

They fishtailed, then off they zoomed. Right on the tail of her hijacked Honda. Then, as if the thief had put wings on her car, it sped ahead and disappeared over a hill.

The crash they heard was mind-jarring.

Saxon rammed on the brakes. “Grab the roof handle!” he yelled at her as they crested a hill.

As they cleared the rise, Willow spotted her car to one side.

Tumbling over and sliding, it crumpled like an old tin can. It teetered on its passenger side, slammed into a tree, the roof crushed. Smoke rose from the wreckage. 

Willow clamped her hands over her mouth. “Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.”

Saxon screeched his truck to a stop, tail-spinning in the rocky soil. He put a hand to hers and crushed it tight. “Stay here!”

As he ran toward the Honda, he yelled into his dispatch radio and Willow could imagine what he said. Come. Get an ambulance. Where’s Harris?

Willow just sat where she was and shook. The adrenalin rushing through her was the wildest blast she’d experienced in years. 

By his dashboard clock, Willow knew she waited for the wreck to clear for over three hours. Rapt, she just watched Saxon and his team of emergency responders as they tried to pry the driver from the front seat of her car with the ugly jaws of life. Firemen came, too, in two different trucks to put out a blaze that began in the engine. Willow watched there, knowing her suitcase and her laptop were either burnt or water-logged. She counted her blessings. She really did, happy the thief had stolen only her car and hadn’t tried to take it with her in it. But she was at a loss what to do without transportation, clothing or her security blanket, also known as her laptop.

Shit. Damn. Hell!

Drained like an old dish cloth after so many wild minutes of the chase, she soon stopped cursing in self-pity. She watched Sheriff Saxon talk on his cell to god knew who. Finally, he returned to his truck and climbed in beside her. Tossing his Stetson to the rear seat, he smoothed his unruly hair, then reached for her hands and held tight.

“I know this is quite a blow to you.”

“Yeah. A big one.”

“Sorry it took so long.”

“No, no. I’m grateful he got some help. He looked alive when they put him in the ambulance. Is he?”

“At the moment. But he’s a mess.”

I am too. Tears scalded her eyes.

“Hey,” he said so softly that she was shocked a man with so much timbre in his voice could speak so low. “Cry if you have to, but please don’t worry.”

“Worry?” she blurted, sad and appalled and angry. She felt like a serrated knife was sawing at her insides. “I’m…just so…stunned! I’ve got no car and no clothes and— Oh, hell. I never blubber.”

But she did. Her eyes shed crocodile tears. Her nose ran. Her lips quivered.

And he slid over to her and wrapped her so close in those big bulging biceps that she wilted like a picked flower in the mid-day sun. 

He dug a handkerchief from his pocket and put it to her nose. “Blow.”

She honked right into it and sniveled her thanks. Male comfort was such a rare benefit for any of her troubles, that she wound her arms around his torso and loved the feel of his rock hard abs. She wondered how to stay here in his arms. Keep crying? Jump his bones? Worry about a Mrs. Sheriff Saxon?

Hell, how could she think of such things after she had just lost everything?

She groaned.

He cuddled her closer and ran his hands over her hair. “It’s been a long day.”

“Crazy,” she agreed, roping in her wild emotions and pushing away to reclaim her dignity.

“Look at me.” He caught her chin between two fingers and made her glance up at him. And god, he was the most fabulous male creature she had seen since she’d watched Bradley Cooper get a hangover in Bangkok. But this man was not on a silver screen. He breathed. He grinned. He filled her view. Broad shoulders, sun-bleached hair, sea green eyes that caressed and consoled. “I’m gonna fix you up, best I can. I just talked with Cara MacRae and Samantha Turner. Told them what happened to you.”

“Oh. That’s so good of you. Thank you. They were expecting me tonight.”

“And they still are.”

“Oh, I can’t. I don’t have any—“

“Yes, you can go.”

“How? I have nothing! No clothes even. Look at me, Sheriff.” 
His gaze flicked over her, but it was no cursory exam. It was long, lingering and appreciative. Her breasts beaded. Her pussy pulsed. Her panties got wet. And every nerve in her body sang a halleluya chorus. When he caught her gaze, he said, “My name is Wade and you are going tonight.”

Why? Will you be there? How can I care if you are? What the hell is wrong with my logic meter? She ran a hand over her hair. “Sorry. Stolen cars and high speed chases and fires are not part of my usual day.” “Believe me. I can’t go.”

“You will. Cara and Samantha are seeing to it you have clothes. Cara owns a women’s shop in town and—”

“I’m hard to fit.”

“Not from where I sit.” His extraordinary colored eyes danced over her once more.

If he didn’t stop that, she’d leave a wet spot on his fine leather seat from her soaked panties. Jazzed by his sexy looks and his sweetness, she had to be logical. “I am not your average—“

“Size four?” He arched a wicked brow. “No, thank god, you definitely are not.”

“I’m more like—“

“Size 16. Breasts a good 40? D?”

She stared straight ahead. “I will not ask you how you can estimate that.”

“So I’m right?”

“You have a good eye.”

He smacked his lips. “Hips, 40. The rest of you, all nice and tight in all the right places.”

Wow, he was such a player, but was she complaining? Only, if he has a wife.

* * * * * *

Come nibble more of my cherries at
Feast on my friends’ cherries at my blog:
Twitter: @cerisedeland
Facebook: Cerise DeLand

Sunday, May 25, 2014

Sunday Snog #126: The Eyes of Bast

Greetings! I spent today revising and formatting The Eyes of Bast (formerly "Cat Toy") for submission to Books We Love. It's now winging its way to their editors and cover artists. Anyway, I thought I'd share yet another kiss from the book with you. (For a 27K word book, it includes a lot of snogs!)

When you're done with my Snog, head back to Blisse Kiss central for more erotic oral action.

I found my apartment door locked. Had Tom not returned yet? The studio was dark, all the lights out and the blinds drawn as I'd left them. “Tom?” My voice was hoarse with fear. She found him. She's caught him.

A man-shaped shadow rose from the chair near the window. “Shaina! Thank the gods you're safe!” In an instant, I was wrapped in his strong arms, with his face buried in my hair. Peace and comfort flooded in, washing away my worry and uncertainty. This was where I belonged.

Unerring even in the darkness, his lips found mine. I opened automatically, drinking in his sweet, wild flavor. He smelled of smoke and earth, crisp nights and growing things. The tension that had sustained me through my encounter with the sorceress vanished, so that for a moment I felt limp and weak. Taking advantage of my lassitude, he drew me closer, the rigid bulk in his trousers rooting in the gap between my thighs and making me gasp. As he boldly probed my mouth, his hands roamed over my curves to my ass and pulled me tighter still.

Fierce need swept through me like a forest fire. I threaded my fingers into his wiry curls and took over the kiss, sucking his tongue into my mouth, gnawing on his lips, devouring him. With a growl, he sank his fingernails into my butt – I could feel the bite even through my jeans - and ground his erection against me. The friction kindled sparks in my swollen clit. They shot through me, lighting up my body like fireworks. 

His muscles shifted like bands of steel under his shirt, under my hands. My fingers itched to feel his nakedness. At the same time, I was unwilling to release my hold on him so that we could get undressed. Desperate with desire, clutching and writhing, we rocked against one another like boats caught in a storm. 

“Now,” he groaned into my mouth. “I want you now!” We managed to separate long enough to tear off our clothes. Tom seized me around the waist and dragged me to the floor. He flipped me onto my stomach as though I weighed nothing, then grabbed my hips to haul me up to my hands and knees. His nails dug stinging crescents into my bare ass and his coarse pubic hair scratched the back of my thighs.

“Tom...?” I peered over my shoulder at his looming figure. His roughness both thrilled and scared me. He was so much stronger than I was. I could never fight him off.

But why was I thinking about fighting? I wanted everything he had to give me. 

Saturday, May 24, 2014

Travel: It’s All About the Shopping---18th Century Style

By Suz de Mello (Guest Blogger)

Those of you who follow my blogs (Mom? bro?) are aware that I’ve written two prior blogs about this subject, one when I lived in southeast Asia ( and one when I spent a year in China teaching English to toddlers (

Weirdly, I’m not a particularly avid shopper. I don’t go malling and don’t view shopping as a pastime. Sometimes it’s okay when I’m in the mood, but usually...not. But when I find myself in a new, exotic city, I love to wander around the stores and see what’s being sold, compare foods, clothes, trinkets to goods I’d find in my hometown.

And thus it might have been for Isobel Kilburn, the heroine of Bridling His Vampire. At age eighteen, she traveled to Edinburgh to enjoy the 1766 social season before she was slated to enter an arranged marriage to Edgar, laird of the neighboring clan, the MacReivers.

Leaving aside the question of what strong-willed Isobel thought about being denied the choice of a mate, what would she have seen in the Edinburgh shops? How might she react?

Though Isobel was a high-born young lady from a wealthy clan, Kilburn Castle is located in the far northwest of the Highlands, far away from any town or city of substance. So imagine: before she arrived in Edinburgh, Isobel had never seen a shop. She would have seen goods for sale at fairs or other gatherings, but such events would have been few at remote Kilburn.

So the first wonder for Isobel would have been the city itself. And even now, in the 21st century, Edinburgh is a wonder and a joy. I’ve been there a couple of times, and it’s a lovely city. Then, however, Edinburgh had the undesirable reputation as the dirtiest and most crowded city in Europe.

Let’s get back to the question: what would have been sold in the shops of 1766 Edinburgh?

At the time Edinburgh was the center of the Scottish Enlightenment. From the 1740s onward, the city came to be seen as a center of forward thinking, especially in the areas of economics, history, science, philosophy and medicine—a new medical branch had been formed at the university there in 1726. So bookstores and coffeehouses flourished. Having been educated by her governess, Alice Derwent Kilburn (the heroine of Desire in Tartan), Isobel would have been capable of participating in the intellectual discussions of the time. But ‘tis unlikely she was interested—her main pursuits at Kilburn were riding unbroken horses and getting into trouble.

And, though the city was unmarred by excessive industrialization, a linen weaving works had been established in Canongate. So drapers—what we’d call fabric stores—abounded.

And what was the nature of the city? Wealthy and cultured. Several major banks were headquartered there. Music was popular and the Edinburgh Music Society established in 1728. Many improvements were made during the time Isobel visited. And improvements were needed—as I mentioned, Edinburgh was thought to be one of the most crowded and unsanitary cities in Europe. However, the overcrowding threw all social classes together—lords might live in the same tall row-house as a chimney sweep.

But the improvements changed that to a certain degree. The newer parts of the town were seen as more desirable than the older quarter, where the poor remained while the wealthier moved on.

I hope I’ve intrigued you enough! If not, here’s what the story is about:

Bridling his Vampire by Suz deMello:

Scotland, 1766.

Edgar, Laird MacReiver, has never regretted his decision to wed Isobel, daughter of Clan Kilburn’s laird, until she bites his tongue and drinks his blood. Still, he's determined to bridle the wild child of the infamous vampire clan by any means necessary, including bondage and discipline.

But are some women impossible to tame? 

About the author:

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written seventeen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Liquid Silver Books and Ai Press, where she is currently Managing Editor. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

--Find her books at

--For editing services, email her at

--Befriend her on Facebook:, and visit her group page at

--She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun and @Suzdemello


Friday, May 23, 2014

No Hard Feelings by Marta Tandori

[My guest today is offering a $25 bookstore gift certificate as part of her ongoing blog tour. See the end of the post for other stops! ~ Lisabet]


Some secrets can’t stay hidden, especially when they involve murder…

Liz Farrell is still reeling over the murder of her mother almost a year earlier at the hands of her father, Leo Bauer, when she receives the startling news that she’s inherited her estranged father’s sizable estate. Unable to come to terms with her father’s unspeakable legacy, Liz and her grandmother, Kate Stanton, visit Leo’s property in Benedict Canyon, desperately hoping to find closure. Instead, they find a bunker hidden under an old hunting lodge that had been used by Leo at one time to hold Liz’s mother captive. Horrified by the discovery, Liz immediately orders the bunker filled and the lodge destroyed but the ensuing demolition quickly comes to a grinding halt after a man’s remains are discovered in a shallow grave at the base of the old lodge. Once the press get wind of the gruesome discovery, rumors quickly surface, linking the remains to a murder spree that took place at the same address almost half a century earlier; a murder spree conveniently covered up by the governor at the time who also happened to be Leo Bauer’s stepbrother. Liz and Kate’s efforts to uncover the truth behind the murders are soon hampered by family secrets and a killer who’s intent on finishing the job started almost fifty years ago.


I need to escape him. I need to escape the man who is both my lover and my captor, but there is nowhere to run.

With a firm grip on my good arm, he pulls me along after him through the crush of humanity, toward the converging crowds gathering at Pandora’s Box on the corner of Sunset and Crescent Heights. The closer we get to our destination, the louder and more boisterous the crowds of protestors and police seem to become. I cry out in pain as my body is jostled, hurting my dislocated left shoulder, which is supported only by the flimsy sling he has fashioned for me. However, he doesn’t hear me cry out because he’s too busy trying to keep up with his two friends.

For a second, I actually toy with the idea of wrenching my arm out of his grip and making a run for it, but almost immediately, I’m overcome by a fear so paralyzing that I’m barely able to breathe. He’s already given me a nasty taste of what he will do to me if I ever try leaving him. He’s promised to stop at nothing—and spare no one—until he finds me, even if it means killing every member of my family. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from living with this monster, it’s to always take his threats seriously. With a sinking heart, I realize I am nothing more than a pawn to him; valuable when needed, but as with everything in his life, sadly expendable once I’ve served my purpose in his pursuit of his master plan. He has very few displays of human emotion, so it’s difficult to figure out what he’s thinking at any given time. One thing I am sure of, though, is that he trusts no one, least of all me.

About the Author

By the time Marta Tandori reached fifth grade, she was an avid reader and writer with a stack of
short stories collecting dust in a box under her bed but it wasn’t until she began studying acting in her early twenties at the prestigious American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York that Marta realized acting wasn’t really her passion – writing fiction was. What followed was years of writing workshops as well as correspondence courses in writing for children through the Institute of Children’s Literature in Connecticut. She credits the award winning author, Troon Harrison, as the instructor who helped her find her literary voice. Marta’s first work of middle-grade fiction, BEING SAM, NO MATTER WHAT was published in 2005, followed by EVERY WHICH WAY BUT KUKU! in 2006. With her more recent endeavors, Marta has shifted her writing focus to mysteries and suspense having “strong female protagonists with closets full of nasty skeletons and the odd murder or two to complicate their already complicated lives”. To learn more about Marta, please visit her website at or her Facebook Author Page at


Twitter : @MartaTandori

Leave a comment with your email address to enter Marta's giveaway. 

For a full list of the stops on Marta's tour, visit the Goddessfish blog:

Thursday, May 22, 2014

The Lost Book

The other night I had a strange, vivid dream. I dreamed that I had a book - a novel - that I'd written at some point in the past, but never published. Somehow, I'd managed to forget the book existed.

In the dream, something triggered a recollection of the lost book's existence. I was thrilled at the notion that I could dig it out and get it published, to help satisfy readers frustrated by the slow pace of my output.

I half woke at that point and found myself asking: did this lost book really exist? I racked my sleep-clogged brain. I knew the genre, a paranormal ménage. The title? Couldn't recall. But the whole thing felt so real, I almost made myself get out of bed and go searching on my hard drive.

This isn't an impossible scenario. Every now and again I discover a short story from years ago that I'd totally forgotten. But an entire novel? Not likely I guess, even though I've published - what, seven novels? Eight? Kind of depends how you count, but I have rather lost track.

One thing this dream showed me. I feel really frustrated and embarrassed by my low productivity. One or two major releases a year seems to be all that I can manage. My joy at discovering a "free" book that I could put out there suggests that my feelings of inadequacy are even invading my dreams.

Got to get working on that next story...

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Sneak Peek: A Cat's Tale by Melissa Snark

[I've got another sneak peek guest today, Melissa Snark, who's sharing a bit from her new paranormal erotic romance A Cat's Tale. What a coincidence!  See the end of the post for information on her cool giveaway. ~ Lisabet]


Alpha werewolf, Jared Kohl, wakes up in a vampire’s dungeon, swearing revenge upon the wily Siamese werecat who lured him there with her sultry lips and the sweetest tail. To escape his undead captor, all he has to do is seduce the skittish puss and show her that trust is often a hot and hard lesson to learn.

Enslaved feline shifter, Josephine Young, has learned the hard way not to believe in anything or anyone—not men, not love, and certainly not the blood-sucking mistress who tossed her into the cage with the hungry beast she’d betrayed. But Josephine does what she must to survive, including tempting the dominant werewolf to give her more than promises.

Imprisoned for their blood, Jared and Josephine fight for survival and discover a passion that neither can walk away from. Can these two predators survive long enough to prove that cats and dogs can be more than enemies?


Somewhere between Virginia and California

It happened in a nowhere town at a shithole bar off the main highway somewhere between Virginia and Los Angeles. Jared Kohl pulled off to get a drink and a burger. Okay, more than one drink, and a pile of burgers. But a werewolf had to eat and it took more than just one shot to get him buzzed. Whatever the case, he never did get to order. 
The bar was dim and cheap with its 60s themed movie and rock posters, and a jukebox pumping out Jimi Hendrix and The Stones. Jared took a seat at a corner table where he could stretch out his long legs and appreciate the classic image of Marilyn Monroe and her billowing white dress.

As a stranger to this community, he was bound to attract attention. Jared measured a neat six-four and two hundred twenty pounds of pure sinewy muscle. His dark brown hair had gotten too long, so stubborn curls tumbled across his forehead. His neat mustache and beard covered only his chin, framing his mouth. He was handsome and knew it. He had his father’s good looks—broad forehead, strong nose, generous mouth, and square jaw. From his mother, he’d inherited startling topaz eyes. A cleft divided his chin.

As distracting as all the eyes upon him were, Jared got hard the second he scented her—rich and musky and designed for fucking. His posture remained relaxed as she walked up behind him. He did not glance up until she ran a hand over his shoulder. Her fingernails were painted fire-engine red and sharpened to points. The light scratches she left on his skin healed thanks to his regenerative ability.

So a werewolf and a werecat walk into a bar…” Her voice was low and husky, pitched to create a seductive resonance within a man’s crotch. Beneath the pheromones, he smelled sadness and anxiety, which intrigued him more than the blatant come on. She seemed more complex than she wanted to let on.

Jared looked up from his drink to get hung up on a pair of pretty knees clad in white stockings and red lace garters encircling slender thighs. Her plaid skirt was the right length of short, stopping just shy of crotch level, low enough to tease him. She wore a prim white button-up shirt with a collar and rolled sleeves. Her skin was Asian mocha, and her hair was black and worn in pigtails secured with red ribbons. Her almond-shaped eyes were bright blue with slit pupils. The ornate gold collar around her neck seemed incongruous with the outfit. She was working the Japanese schoolgirl angle hard, but he judged her to be in her early twenties. Sometimes with shapechangers, it was hard to tell.

Let’s cut to the chase,” Jared said. “Does the wolf eat the pussycat?” He smiled, showing a hint of fang. It had been a while since he’d eaten, and he was hungry enough to consider her the entrée. Jared met those cobalt eyes but did not worry about dominance. He was smart enough not to get into a staring contest with a cat.

Does the wolf want to eat the pussycat?” She trailed a suggestive hand down his chest and then sat on his lap. Unless he was mistaken, she wasn’t against the idea of being splayed and licked. Hell, she might go for biting if her kink was pain.

It’s been a while since I last ate,” he said. She wasn’t what he expected of a werecat. But then he’d never met one until she walked up and sat in his lap, so he was free of preconceived notions.

You’re new to town,” she said. “Are you here with your pack?” Oh man, she was leading him without any subtlety. He smelled the trap big time.

I’m on my way to LA,” he said. “Sorry, but I’m afraid it’s just me.” He watched her reaction, trying to figure her angle. She had fire and spirit, and the air of a creature abused.

Her smile widened. “So, you’re a lone wolf?”

Not exactly,” Jared responded with caution. He shrugged. “It’s more a matter of circumstance than choice. It’s complicated.”

I like complicated men.” On his lap, she shifted, rubbing her buttocks against his swollen cock and working the denim for friction.

Jared sucked in air between his teeth. Oh yeah, a baited but obvious trap. “What’s your breed?”

Anger flared in her cobalt eyes. She withdrew several inches away from him. He held up a staying hand. “I only meant—” Fuck, what had he meant? “Are you Persian? Burmese? You smell like a purebred.”

You know cats?” She seemed thrown. Mistrust glittered in her pretty eyes, causing her mask of 
sophistication to slip. “I’m Siamese.”

He grinned. “My mom had a Siamese. He was a crazy cat.”

What happened to him?” she asked in a way that could only be described as catty. “Was he eaten by a werewolf?”

Sol passed away at the ripe old age of twenty-one,” Jared said. At twenty-six, he had grown up with the cat and loved it a great deal.

Restless, the werecat shifted. He smelled her fear—fear of him. His protective instincts rushed to the fore. He opened his mouth to ask why when she twisted on his lap to straddle him. With a glance, he got a good look at her crotch as the skirt bunched up high across her thighs. She had no panties on and a manicured pussy—Brazilian waxed.

Want to fuck me?”

Jared swallowed hard. She hadn’t bothered to ask his name. No doubt, it was a trap. Jared nodded and followed her out of the bar anyway. He wanted to fuck her that bad. 

Purchase at Amazon or B&N or ARe

Fast Facts About Melissa Snark:

  • Melissa Snark is published with The Wild Rose Press & as an Indie author with four different titles.
  • Her Loki's Wolves series includes THE CHILD THIEF, HUNGER MOON AND BATTLE CRY (to be released June 2014).
  • Her novel THE MATING GAME, an erotic paranormal title will be released in Spring 2014.
  • She lives in the San Francisco bay area with her husband, three children and a glaring of cats.
  • She blogs about books and writing on The Snarkology.

Learn more about Melissa Snark:
Email: melissasnark at

Melissa is giving away this gorgeous pendant to one lucky person during her tour. 
Use the Rafflecoper widget below to enter!

Jewels of the Moon Pendant for Clairvoyance and Psychic Ability 

by Nordic Lights Collection by Maelstrom Odssonn 

(Shipping restricted to the continental United States)



a Rafflecopter giveaway