Sunday, November 30, 2014

Sunday Snog #151: Almost Home

I can feel it in the air. The holidays are coming. I'm thinking about evergreens and mistletoe, candy canes and egg nog, all the delights of the season.

Snow, too. I won't get snow here in the tropics, but I've been thinking about it and writing about it (a new holiday story in the works for you). And so I thought I'd share a very sexy and emotional snog from my snowy M/M/F holiday romance Almost Home.

Home is a state of heart.

Suzanne and Gino have history going back to high school, but for years Suzanne has been three thousand miles away, preoccupied with her challenging career. A mistletoe kiss at a holiday party reminds her of their old bond and proves that some things get better with age. When Gino rescues her from a New England blizzard, though, she discovers that she's not the only love in his life. Gino shares his bed and his colonial-era farm house with taciturn painter Harris Steele. Snowed in, without electricity or running water, the three explore the many shapes a triangle can assume. Although she's far away from her everyday existence, Suzanne realizes that she's almost home.

After you've enjoyed my snog, please visit Victoria's Snog Central, where you will find many more delicious Sunday kisses (probably with holiday themes, too!)

Now Gino shimmied his tight jeans down over his narrow hips. His rigid penis sprang out, a fat arrow of flesh pointed at the ceiling.

Suzanne’s breath caught in her throat. She licked her lips.

He turned his back to her as he eased the pants over the luscious curves of his bare butt and pushed them down to his ankles. With a flourish, he stepped out of them and kicked them away. Finally he stood before her, gloriously naked except for the gold chain around his neck and his impudent grin.

No underwear?” teased Suzanne, holding out her arms.

Helena told me you were expected,” Gino replied, stretching out beside her. He toyed with her nipples. She retaliated by grasping and stroking his substantial erection.

Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she commented. He gasped as she smoothed her thumb over his knob, spreading the liquid leaking from his slit.

Not particularly. But I’ve always been an optimist.” Suzanne watched, fascinated, as he rolled a condom onto his cock. He settled on top of her, careful not to knock them off the the narrow couch, and nudged her thighs apart. His hardness prodded her lower lips. “Now—can I fuck you, Suzy Q?”

Oh yes! It’s about time.”

He slipped into her like an old lover, smooth and sure. She moaned with delight and wrapped her legs around his waist. She hadn’t felt this good in a very long time—perhaps ever. He was a perfect fit, with enough bulk to stimulate all her sensitive spots without stretching her to the point of pain. He used long, slow strokes, letting her appreciate every inch of his flesh sliding over hers. She clenched her inner muscles along his length, and was rewarded by his moan.

Oh God! Oh—Suzy!” He picked up his pace, fucking her hard and fast, just as she craved. His strong arms supported his weight while his pelvis jerked and drove his cock into her depths. His face hovered over her, lit by the flickering fire. Suzanne watched his expressions as he rammed into her. His blissful smile grew wider at the deepest point of each stroke. His eyes were screwed shut as if the pleasure was too much to bear.

Look at me, Gino,” she whispered, arching up to meet each thrust. He heard and obeyed, locking his eyes to hers. She tumbled headlong into their luminous depths.

He opened his soul to her gaze. All his hunger was there, more than twenty years of pent-up desire. She saw the laughter, too, gentle and mocking, both his weapon and his armour against hurt. Regret flickered in the background—why had they waited so long, their youth lost to stubbornness or blindness? And woven through it all, glowing in his face as he finally, royally fucked her, was simple love.

The realisation rocked her harder than his cock slamming into her cunt. This wasn’t just fucking—Gino, the boy and the man she’d known for most of her lonely life, was making love to her.

She dragged him down so that his weight mashed her breasts. She wanted him closer. “Gino,” she whispered. “I never knew…” His mouth was on hers. They shared their breathing. She felt his pulse, racing even faster than his cock, beating against her skin. She tightened around him, pulling him deeper, trying to meld their two bodies into one.

Mouth to mouth, eyes locked, they writhed together. Gino slid his hands under her buttocks and held her aloft, driving into her again and again. She floated there, cradled in his strength, ravaged by his lust.

The climax welled up from her depths, powerful, pure and irresistible. The pleasure built and built until she was sure she would shatter, but instead it only drove her higher. The room glowed golden. Gino’s eyes were jewels. She felt herself ripple like water around his cock, then the answering surge from his flesh. She sensed every flicker as he came, hot and sweet, inside her.

He kissed her with quiet passion. She tasted honey and salt, eggnog and peppermint, and came again, deep and soft as falling snow. 

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Conflicts and Catalysts: Exploring Self-Awareness in Story and Life

By Emerald (Guest Blogger) 

When I was in junior high, I learned in English class about the three basic types of conflict in story: person vs. person, person vs. nature, and person vs. oneself.

Since releasing my first two single-author short story collections, If… Then: a collection of erotic romance stories and Safe: a collection of erotic stories, I have said that all the stories in both (they were originally submitted as a single collection and divided into two at the suggestion of the publisher) embody and exhibit a certain intangible energy that was both particular and also essential for me in discerning (and writing) the stories to include.

As I've contemplated this, it has occurred to me that the foundation of this intangible energy is that the “conflict” in each story is almost always in the "person vs. oneself" category. Even if there appear to be other issues or conflicts, this is the ultimate one that drives the narrative arc.

I have said before that in my perception, the importance of self-awareness can hardly be overstated. It may be partially due to this that "person vs. person" conflict doesn’t really resonate with me at this point. I don’t remember the last time I wrote an antagonistic character. This isn’t because I don't think such perceptions are part of experience sometimes but rather because I don’t want to emphasize things like vengefulness or unkindness or to perpetuate (what I see as) our tendencies to project onto each other without realizing it (which, as I see it, is where things like vengefulness or unkindness tend to originate). They just aren’t things I generally find on my radar screen at this point.

Person vs. nature, to me, has much relevance as a potential conflict realm (in Safe, "On the Rise" could arguably be seen as written around this one), but I think that in my perception, even if such is occurring, one’s internal perspective is an essential force in what that person perceives and how he/she/they behave—bringing it once again back to person vs. oneself. Truthfully, that might be the gist of it: it seems to me that one's inner landscape and level of personal consciousness is really the ultimate “conflict” in all circumstances—that regardless of what is happening, that is what it invariably comes down to. So perhaps I just want to cut to the chase. ;)

In exploring this in my characters, I admittedly don’t always think about it in terms of “conflict." I definitely don’t start writing and think to myself, “What is going to be the conflict in this story?” This may be because this kind of conflict naturally arises in characters since we all have our internal issues and unconscious patterns. These tend to be the things that interest me, both in life and in writing, and they are, more often that not, what drive or at least underly almost any fiction I write.

Since sexuality is a foremost topic of interest to me, it frequently serves as the catalyst for the deeper discovery of my characters' internal struggles and/or ways to heal them. Some stories in If… Then and Safe express this more overtly than others, but all of them involve it in some way, whether the growth and/or exploration are on the part of the narrator him/herself or another character(s) seen through whatever point of view the reader is witnessing.

While it may seem a tall order (or even wishful thinking on my part!), it is the case that ultimately, I write these stories from this place to invite an expansion of awareness, especially self-awareness, in the reader. Particularly in the context of sexuality, this has long been the overarching reason I write what I do. It is both my hope and my perspective that If… Then and Safe, my first two single-author books, exemplify this aim.

By the way - I have a $10 Barnes and Noble gift certificate to give away to one reader. Just leave a comment which includes your email address. I'll randomly draw a winner on December 2nd.

Blurb for Safe

In this collection of ten erotic stories, attraction, heat, and connection serve as catalysts to take characters to places of climax, revelation, transformation, and abiding – sometimes all at once. From hypnotizing dreams to life-changing tragedies to moving on after the end of a relationship, Safe explores the power of sexuality in its myriad forms and manifestations.

“To Make It That Way” shows older woman Cole taking young Zack on a seductive and wild ride, exposing him not only to a considerable sexual education but to more subtle life lessons as well. “Power Over Power” channels the intense energy of a martial arts session, while “Hers to Keep” offers Leslie a surprising lesson in so-called “casual” sex.

Polyamory, masturbation, and BDSM all make appearances in Safe, as do scorching vanilla sex and budding romance. These stories reveal how Eros has the power to bring us back to ourselves, propelling us ever deeper into the journeys of sex and life.


Ericka felt her cheeks flush, and Sam raised his eyebrows. Caught now in the inevitable awkwardness when this wasn’t handled correctly, Ericka ducked her head. Before he could ask a question, she spoke.

“I actually prefer not to have other people make me come.” She shrugged, her voice sounding casual even to her ears. To her, it was a casual revelation, though it had never failed to surprise everyone she’d told. Still, in most cases it hadn’t been an issue—once she said she’d rather just be fucked, most men had acquiesced.

Sam smiled a bit incredulously. “Why on earth would you not want to come?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to come. I just don’t like for other people to do it for me.” Ericka smiled, trying to keep her tone light. “I can make myself come just fine. Getting fucked is what I prefer. I can’t do that to myself—I can’t hold myself down and fuck myself hard like I like it.” Just saying the words made her breathing change, and she willed him to jump on her and do just that.

Her narration appeared to have a similar effect on Sam, who shifted a bit as his cock twitched. “Well, I would certainly love to do that for you.” His voice was low, and she felt the moisture increase between her thighs at the look in his eyes. “Do you mean though that you’d like to get yourself off first?”

Ericka shrugged. Whether or not she had an orgasm was not her main concern regarding sex. She’d meant what she said—an orgasm was something she could give herself. Being taken the way the way something deep inside her almost constantly seemed to want was something she could only get from someone else.

Sam looked perplexed at her hesitation, and she tried to ward off the impatience she felt. She just wanted him inside her. She said as much, and Sam gave a soft groan as he reached to grip his cock lightly.

“Show me,” he said, nodding to her as he slid his hand slowly up his shaft. “Show me how you come first. Then I’ll hold you down and fuck you till you can’t see straight.”

With that promise on the table, Ericka needed no further convincing. She fell back against the leather and reached between her legs, not surprised to feel the moisture dripping there. Her finger landed on her clit, and she pressed firmly.

It was striking how different her own method of making herself come was from what it took for someone else to bring her to orgasm. When she got herself off, it was rough, fast, no-nonsense—much like how she liked to be fucked. Solid pressure, firm rhythm, single-minded aim. With Sam watching, she began this ritual now, holding his gaze as she gasped and arched her back at the helm of her own fingers.

For a man to make her come, he could only barely touch her. Careful. Gentle. Delicate even.

Rarely did she allow it.

-from "Safe," the title story of Safe: a collection of erotic stories

If… Then at Amazon:

About Emerald

Emerald is an erotic fiction author whose short stories have been featured or are forthcoming in anthologies published by Cleis Press, Mischief, Logical-Lust, and Sweetmeats Press. She is an advocate for sexual freedom, reproductive justice, and sex worker rights, and she serves as the Facebook group moderator and an assistant newsletter editor for Marketing for Romance Writers (MFRW). Her first single-author books, If…Then: a collection of erotic romance stories and Safe: a collection of erotic stories, are out now from 1001 Nights Press.

Friday, November 28, 2014

Sneak Peek: Portrait of Passion by Lynne Barron

[I've got a sneak peek for you today at Lynne Barron's Regency romance, Portrait of Passion. Use the Rafflecopter widget at the end of the post to enter Lynne's drawing for a $25 bookstore gift certificate. ~ Lisabet]


Whats a Viscount to do when a mysterious lady with a secret past and a reputation frayed around the edges suddenly appears in London in hot pursuit of his naive young cousin, setting the gossipstongues wagging, stirring his family into pandemonium, and driving him mad with her irreverent ways?
If the Viscount in question is Simon Easton, the answer is quite simple.  Seduce the beguiling lady.  But Miss Beatrice Morgan isnt your average tarnished lady. Shes lived a slapdash life wandering the globe like a gypsy, painting fantastical portraits of duchesses as sirens and landscapes featuring a crumbling old fountain, all the while harboring a secret desire to return to Idyllwild, the only home shes ever known.  

What Simon does not know is that Beatrice just might be willing to sacrifice her honor, her virtue, her very heart to reclaim Idyllwild.


Who is she?” asked Simon Carlisle, Viscount Easton.

Isn’t she beautiful?” replied his cousin Henry Tinsdale, the Earl of Hastings.
She was beyond beautiful, Lord Easton thought as he watched her across the ballroom. She was mesmerizing. The willowy blonde had captured the attention of every person in the room as soon as she had entered on the arm of Viscount Moorehead only moments before. Simon heard whispers of conversation behind the fluttering fans of a group of ladies standing behind him.

A scarlet dress, can you imagine?”

Not so surprising, surely? They say she’s an artist, of all things.”

Artist? Is that what they are calling them these days?”

While the ladies of the ton whispered and stared, the gentlemen silently watched and circled about her, gradually closing the distance. From Simon’s vantage point some twenty paces away, the men appeared to be involved in a slow dance whose moves were carefully orchestrated to appear subtle. They were anything but.

Moorehead had yet to introduce his beautiful companion to anyone in the ballroom. They simply stood off to the side of the cavernous room, framed by two potted ferns, as if waiting for the hordes to come to them.

With a gesture that clearly spoke of familiarity and affection, her escort placed his hand upon the small of her back and leaned in to whisper in her ear. She evidently found his remark amusing, for she tossed her head back and laughed. Even across the crowded room Simon could hear the echo of that laughter, mellow and dark.

Portrait of Passion is on sale for a limited time!

Kindle or NOok, only $1.99!

About Lynne

Write about what you know.

Every creative writing teacher and college professor said these words to Lynne Barron in one form or another. But what did she know?

She knew she enjoyed the guilty pleasure of reading romance novels whenever she could find time between studying, working and raising her son as a single mother.

She knew quite a bit about women's lives in the Regency and Victorian era from years spent bouncing back and forth between European History and English Literature as a major in college.

She knew precious little about romance except to know that it was more than the cliché card and a dozen red roses on Valentine's Day.

Then she met her wonderfully romantic husband and finally she knew.

Passion, Love and Romance.

And she began to write.

If you would like to learn more about Lynne Barron and the Idyllwild Series, please visit her website at or follow her at Facebook:

Buy Links

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Thursday, November 27, 2014


A few days ago I learned that there is a small but definite possibility that my husband and I might become rich.

I'm not talking about rich in the league of Bill Gates or Warren Buffett, of course. However, we're in the process of trying to sell an invention, and we've got some nibbles from potential purchasers who would pay several million dollars.

When my DH told me about this (he has been handling most of the search for investors or buyers), I did a double take. It's hard to imagine receiving that kind of money. Although I've been doing what I can to support his promotion efforts, I have to admit it wasn't real to me until DH and I had this conversation.

I began thinking about what we'd do if this deal actually comes through - what I'd change.

And I was startled to realize the answer: not much.

I wouldn't quit my job. I love my work.

I wouldn't want to move. We have a fabulous apartment and I have no interest in buying another house, after being weighed down for years by the burden of owning a fabulously interesting but continuously deteriorating historic home in the US.

I wouldn't stop bargain-hunting. That's in my blood, inherited from my Jewish mother and grandmother!

Aside from a few odds and ends, there's very little I want or need that money can buy. I guess I'd like to be able to travel more, but even now our constraints in that area relate more to time than money, and I've already said I'd want to keep my job. Probably I'd go visit my family in the States more often than we do now.

Overall, though, I'm so blessed at this moment that money would not improve our lives much, because there's so little to improve. The money would provide some security for our future, relieving some stress, but as far the present is concerned, I have pretty much no complaints.

That realization is totally amazing. Here we are, celebrating Thanksgiving - could I possibly have more reasons for gratitude? I love my life, my husband, my work, my family, my friends, our cats. We have our health and strength. I have my writing life, my back list to be proud of, my peers and my readers.

What more could I ask for?

Indeed, I want to share my bounty with others. And I do what I can.

First of all, I have a story in Coming Together's new holiday charity collection, Coming Together For the Holidays. The book will release around December 1st, but you can pre-order it now. All proceeds support Stand Up For Kids, a charity working in local communities to support homeless youth. They provide outreach, education, food, clothing and most valuable of all, responsible adults to whom these kids can turn.

Second, I will donate $1 to Stand Up for Kids, for each person who comments on this blog post. Just tell me what you're thankful for today.

May you have life, and have it abundantly. Or to borrow the sig line from one of my writer friends:

We give thanks for unknown blessings already on their way.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Ash's Fire - Just Say No to 3TO

By Callie Gold (Guest Blogger)

Hi girlfriend!

So today I’m going to bitch about one of the most common, and hated, descriptions in an erotica book, ever. It goes like this:

(male:) Thrust, thrust, thrust.

(female:) screaming orgasm.

That’s it. Essentially, it’s a sex act that includes a very short session of thrusts of penis into vagina, immediately followed by an orgasm. No other stimulation. Perhaps kissing.

I call it 3TO. 3 Thrusts to Orgasm.

Ladies, the 3TO is slightly more imaginary than R2D2 or C3PO.

So now I get to discuss why I hate it so much. If you agree – write to me. If you disagree – write to me. If you hate me – go write your own blog.

Firstly – 3TO makes for very dull reading. Hello! I paid money for this book. I bought arousal potential and entertainment. Do you want to entertain me? Arouse me? 3TO is not the way to go about it.

Secondly – I can’t relate to 3TO. It doesn’t happen to me. Or to MOST of the women on this planet. Let’s talk about that for a bit.

Scientists have concluded that 75% of us women cannot come from stimulation to our vaginas alone. An additional 10% of us don’t have orgasms at all. That leaves 15% that come from penetration. So, obviously, the vast majority of us will read a 3TO scenario and won’t know what the hell that feels like. Much worse – we might feel inadequate reading it.

Once upon a time we were told that we should orgasm from penetration, missionary style. And good old Sigmund Freud (whose theories have been disproved for the most part), said that our frustrated sexual energy (due to our expectations to have orgasms from penetration) is – get this: Hysteria. Frustrated women not getting any orgasms from sex and prohibited from masturbating were called mentally ill. Way to go, Sigmund!

Then we were told that we have a clitoris and that we should get to know it so we can have orgasms. Great! We’re not psychos!

Then, research discovered that 75% of us, that’s three quarters, cannot come from penetration. Impossible. Like having an orgasm from rubbing the palm of our hand. Then we were told about the female g-spot, but later studies showed they haven’t found proof that it even exists. Then, finally, Hallelujah, men were told that they have to stimulate us to orgasm so we can enjoy ourselves just as much as they do.

And now, some scientists are saying that vaginal orgasms don’t exist at all, because it’s a clitoral orgasm reached from the inside. What the f***?
So let’s summarize: vaginal penetration is something that most of us can’t do.

So now the question returns to our erotica: Should we use it as reading / fantasy material?

I say, the hell we should. Here’s why:

First reason: if we don’t know what 3TO feels like, how can we fantasize about it?

Second reason: If 3TO is not how we orgasm, it won’t be arousing in a book. It won’t be as hot as it can be. If Hot Guy Brad was to rub Tiffany’s left palm, would she be screaming, “Oh, Oh, God, Here I Come!”? Yeah, right.

Third reason: since our erotic book is mostly about the guy, and since we want our fantasy Hot Guy to do it to us just the right way, he shouldn’t do 3TO more than once in a trilogy, maybe. He’s hot because he knows how to make our bodies jump with joy.

So let’s get rid of like, 90% of 3TO. Wouldn’t that be nice?

And then there’s also the aspect of harm to the young reader. If you are very young, my dear, and inexperienced, you may be misled by what you read. You might end up thinking that if you can’t come from penetration, well, then there must be something wrong with your body. And that’s a real shame.

There’s a whole other discussion here, about women tolerating the male-centrist point of view of 3TO, thus fitting into the male need of coming the same way they do. But I won’t go into that because we’re talking about fantasies, not politics. And also I’m not at my bitchiest today.

So here’s what I suggest:

Push that 3TO out of your vocabulary. Just say no to 3TO.

Tell your writer that 3TO should NOT be part of the smorgasbord of your erotic reading. Demand variety, diversity, imagination, kink, anything and everything, and leave maybe, 10% for the 3TO.

Wouldn’t that make our erotica so much better?

Write to me, girlfriend, tell me anything that pops into your mind. Talk to me!

Lots of love,

Ash’s Fire by Callie Gold

Smart and successful Attorney Jordan Cohen didn’t expect Sam, her husband and best friend, to invoke their old pact for non-exclusivity. But after twenty-some years together, he did.

A chance meeting with Ari Ash, the tall-dark-and-yummy internationally renowned concert pianist, sends Jordan into his arms. Ari’s mysterious ways and magical lovemaking pull the conflicted Jordan into a whirlwind affair.

When Ari is implicated in an execution-style murder, she wants to believe Ari is innocent, but one troubling fact after another keeps popping up. Jordan turns to the only man she can trust with her lover’s life – her brilliant criminal defense attorney husband.

Is Ari a killer?

When Ari is charged, Jordan fears the worst: a life sentence for her lover, exposure of her affair and the ruin of her law firm and irreparable damage to her husband’s reputation. But she can’t let go of Ari’s love…

With the trial just days ahead, Jordan races to save her lover, her husband and herself.

Desire, suspicion, love and loyalty all clash in the fast-paced Mediterranean city of Tel-Aviv.

Are you okay?” she asked, reigning in her instant desire for him, feeling the burden of the empty shelves in the empty apartment.

Keeping busy,” he texted.

How was your rehearsal?”

Better than yesterday,” Ari wrote.

That’s great,” she wrote back, and added another smiley. “I miss you.”

Me too,” he wrote. “I think of your hands caressing me.”

Lots of caressing waiting for you when you come back.” Ari knows how to cheer himself up, she thought, focus on the positive, on what he was doing, on the good things to come. And then she added, “I miss your hands, too.” She imagined his hands, big and strong and sensuous, more knowing than any that had ever touched her. She thought of his long menu of touches, from fluttering butterflies that landed and danced, to hungry lions, that pounced and devoured. From ticklish caterpillars that wriggled slowly, to finicky kittens that bumped exuberantly. His hands told innumerable stories, took her body on imaginary voyages. His hands knew how to fill her with fantasy, with excitement.

Where exactly do you miss them?” he asked.

It’s a very long list.” she answered, a smile pulling her cheeks up, her skin tingling. Jordan felt his hands on her face, caressing her gently, reaching into her hair, and then behind her neck, holding her head, nestling it. Ari’s hands knew how to sooth her pain, give her patience to wait for his return. She felt his hands waking her body, exciting it, make her blood heat and run faster in her veins.

I’m looking at your beautiful face now,” he wrote back, “I want you to do the same.”

Got it,” she smiled. “You XL piece of sweet caramel candy, you!” she said. “I wish I could be there to help you with the shelves.”

Me, too. You can hold, while I drill. Give me a hand?”

Ash’s Fire is on sale for 99 cents at Amazon, for the duration of Callie's tour. 

About Callie
Callie Gold is an Israeli married to an American. She admits that marrying her husband was the smartest decision she has ever made in her entire life. Together they have raised three beautiful children.

Callie is a lawyer, and a Jew, and what’s worse – an Israeli. That means that she’s an in-your-face kinda gal. There is no Hebrew word for ‘subtle’. Callie’s husband says that she has too many opinions, and he’s right. But she’s also open and friendly and very curious, and is known to start intimate conversations with the Falafel guy.

Since she stopped litigating, Callie’s husband says she’s become a much nicer person (Callie’s husband is almost always right, which makes living with him really good and seriously annoying, all at the same time).

When she’s not writing, Callie does divorce mediation and marriage counseling, which, she believes will save her a good seat in that place up there. She also cooks and bakes and you will always find home-baked bread in her freezer, next to the chocolate gelato that her husband makes. 
Callie writes because writing creates another life for her, a life in which she can do whatever she wants. In order to write she has become a time thief.
Above all, Callie is a lover of people and she can never get enough of human interaction. So feel free to start up a conversation with her!

Use the Rafflecopter widget below to enter Callie’s tour giveaway. The grand prize is a $50 bookstore gift certificate. 

Of course, you can increase your chance of winning by visiting her other stops:

November 3: Our Wolves Den
November 3: Wickedly Wanton Tales
November 4: Unabridged Andra's
November 5: You Gotta Read Reviews
November 5: Queen of the Night Reviews
November 6: Linda Nightingale...Wordsmith
November 7: The blog of C.R. Moss
November 7: A Book Addict's Delight
November 10: Christine Young author
November 11: BookSkater
November 12: It's Raining Books
November 13: Edgar's Books
November 13: Tina Donahue Presents
November 14: Long and Short Reviews
November 14: Paranormal Romance and Authors That Rock REVIEW
November 17: Sexy Adventures Passionate Tales
November 17: Wake Up Your Wild Side
November 18: Romance Novel Giveaways
November 19: Erotica For All
November 19: Punya Reviews...
November 20: Deal Sharing Aunt
November 21: Readaholic's Reviews
November 21: DRB1stChp Blog
November 24: Behind Closed Doors
also Laurie's Thoughts and Reviews
November 25: Cabin Goddess
November 25: The Buttontapper
November 26: Beyond Romance
November 27: Avid Book Collector
November 28: Harlie's Books Review
November 28: The Crafty Cauldron Review

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