Seduced by the Daredevil

By Jorja Lovett (Guest Blogger)

Thanks for hosting me today, and sharing in the new release madness! Seduced by the Daredevil is available now and is a bit of a departure from my usual style. It started life as a medical romance, but there are definitely moments of rom com in there, as you can see from the excerpt…

Blurb

Sparks fly when 'Miss Stuffy Knickers' Andrea Bolan meets her match in daredevil Matt King. There's nothing quite like a passionate kiss to motivate a girl to jump off a building in the name of charity. With her inhibitions left far behind she begins to see the benefits of no-strings fun and sets her sights on her sexy abseiling instructor, but things don't go exactly to plan. 
 
Adrenaline junkie Matt fights his demons by living his life on the edge and an uptight dietitian definitely isn't his usual type. But, when they're thrown together at work there's no denying the chemistry. Lust is easy for him to deal with, but he doesn't do commitment. 
 
A sizzling affair catches them both by surprise but if they're not careful their pasts might just cost them any chance of future happiness. 

Excerpt

Matt was eternally grateful he had bought the apartment close by, overlooking the River Lagan. He had enough trouble keeping his hands off Andrea for the duration of the five-minute journey. Small talk with a driver in no obvious hurry was the last thing he wanted, with seduction on his mind. He held it together until they pulled up outside the apartment block.

"Cheers, mate." He threw a few notes through the window and pulled a giggling Andrea from the passenger seat.

Lust fuelled their journey and they half-ran to the entrance of the exclusive new complex. The few steps leading to his front door were taken in such a frenzied rush to reach their destination that Andrea stumbled on those impossibly high heels.

"Are you okay?" On autopilot, he knelt down to her crumpled position on the step and carefully removed her shoe to check for any swelling.

"I'm fine." She giggled again and held up the broken heel of her shoe.

"Thank goodness that's the only casualty," he said, and swept her, and the broken stiletto, up into his arms to carry her the rest of the way. With one hand fiddling with the lock and the other cradling Andrea close to him, who said men couldn't multitask?

Once inside, he set her back onto her feet and closed the door shut with the force of his body pinning hers against it. He wanted her naked, and that damn sweater which had teased him all day needed to go. Andrea didn't resist when he lifted it to reveal the bounty beneath, but tugged at his T-shirt in response until pressing his naked skin to hers became as necessary as breathing. He impatiently hiked her top higher to strip her completely of it.

"Hold on a sec." Andrea's muffled voice came from the tangle of blue wool wedged around her head. He yanked until her head popped free, leaving that once-silky hair a veritable bird's nest.

"That's better," she said. "Now you."

He broke contact to get rid of the barrier, and those few seconds let him drink in the sight of her. In a white bra and jeans, hair mussed, and lips swollen from his tending, she was a far cry from the priss-miss he'd first encountered.

Man, what a turn-on.

The rapid rise and fall of her chest mesmerized him, but restrictive cotton denied him the full effect of her voluptuous cleavage. Eager to free her from all conservative binds, his fingers sought to unhook the fastening of her bra. A well-rehearsed tug and flick failed to open the catch, and he distracted her with a passionate kiss while he worked on it. First with one hand, then with two, he pushed and pulled to no avail.

Finally, he had to admit defeat. "I can't get this bloody thing open, Andie."

Resisting the urge to rip it off, Matt waited while she reached to undo it herself. 

She whipped her underwear off to release her pert breasts into view, and slung it in his direction. The bra catapulted directly into his face, the tail end popping him in the eye. Instinctively he clutched his eye and stifled a verbal wince.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Through a watery haze, he saw her hand fly to her mouth in horror.

"Don't worry, Andie. It's not your fault." He tried to blink back the watery sting to ease her guilt, but full apology mode had already kicked in.

"That was a stupid thing to do. I don't know what I was thinking."

His one good eye saw her bend to retrieve the makeshift weapon. She stood up and accidentally head-butted him between the legs, his groin suffering the next hit. His tongue nearly didn't make it either, he bit it so hard to stop from crying out. The crippling agony doubled him in two and he fought to breathe through it. When, oh when, had his tried and tested methods of seduction turned into a comedy of errors?

"Why don't we take this somewhere safer? Like the bedroom?" he asked in shallow bursts amid ragged breaths.

Andrea placed a self-conscious arm across her chest and limped to his bedroom, one foot shoeless and the other wobbling on a stiletto. He followed when the ache down below receded enough to allow movement.

Buy Links: 
Amazon UK
All Romance Ebooks
Bookstrand
Evernight Publishing

Author Bio

Jorja Lovett is a British author with both Irish and Scottish roots, which makes for a very dry sense of humour. Writing since she was old enough to wield a pen, it wasn't until she joined her crit group, UCW, that she pursued her passion seriously.

Now, with Joe Manganiello as her permanent muse, if she can leave the pause button on her Magic Mike DVD long enough, she hopes to spend the rest of her days writing steamy romances.

Author Links: Blog, Facebook, Twitter, Website

A Day in the Life of a Writer…Or, Procrastination Central

By Jorja Lovett

One of the biggest problems I face as a writer is concentration. Not ideal when you're self-employed and mistress of your own destiny. There are so many distractions out there it's almost impossible to stay focused.

I mean, there's the research for a start. Unfortunately I don't get paid for the hours spent ogling half naked men for 'inspiration' or else I'd be a millionaire by now. Damn you Pinterest!

Working from home, although preferable to actually going to work, puts so many temptations in the way of a writer. The television and the fridge are my personal nemeses. I can't seem to write more than a chapter before I find an excuse to reward myself with an episode of my favourite show, or some chocolate.

Procrastination also stretches to social media activities. Authors are told to build up their online presence and become accessible to readers. Cue lengthy, very important, Twitter chats on the importance of a hero's beard. Then there's the sharing of cover art, and cat pics, on Facebook, which invariably leads to playing the Odd Socks game. A curse which can only be broken once one has run out of lives and matching pairs of socks.

Usually at this point of the day guilt will then set in and there's a vague attempt at actual housework. Whoops! Is it lunchtime already? Well then, I'll stalk my inbox for news and check my book sales.

Once all other avenues have been exhausted, it's finally time to write. I'm old school, and I like to make things harder for myself. I write longhand first, and, when I eventually decipher my own handwriting, I edit as I type. It's probably twice the length of everyone else's process but it seems to be the only way I can work. For no logical reason, the words flow better for me with a biro and a reporter's notebook than by typing straight into a document.

So, my pen is poised, but wait, I need to refresh my memory with what I had written yesterday. And you can't read without having a cup of tea…

Ah yes, I was leading up to the big love scene. 

 

Now, there are said to be two types of writers – plotters and pantsters. Naturally, I claim to be neither one, nor the other. I'm something of a hybrid. Generally, I have an outline of the story, or scene, before I begin writing. However, my characters have a habit of hijacking my plans and steering the plot in a completely different direction from the one I'd laid out in the synopsis.

Before I commit pen to paper, I mull over the scene I want to create. Never underestimate the power of mulling. 

 

'There was a heartbeat before Nate captured her lips with his.'…leads into the hot sex scene which will be completed another day since it's time to cook dinner.

And there you have it, the reasons my book releases are so sporadic - my brain is prone to unsanctioned vacation time without me. At present, I have two half-finished manuscripts. One is a contemporary romance between a wedding planner and a jaded Earl-in-waiting. The other, is a shifter ménage. Hopefully I will finish one before Brain decides it's time for another trip to La-La land!

Until then, I will leave you with details of my latest release from Totally Bound, Pyramid of Passion. Available on general release from September 12th.

*Childish representation of Brain courtesy of Jorja Lovett – Age 38*

Oh, almost forgot! Leave me a comment on your favorite method of procrastination, and I'll throw your name into the hat for a book from my backlist. Don't forget to include your email address!

Blurb:

Rosie Carter can’t decide—should she act on her feelings for her real-life co-worker or lose herself in the fantasy of her Ancient Egyptian lover?

Rosie Carter’s cleaning job at the museum is far from boring. She starts her night shift by finding the security guard, Nick, screwing a redhead in the office. Running from her attraction to him, she distracts herself with the newly acquired Ancient Egyptian exhibit.

The Gold of Valor catches her eye—a pendant bestowed on the Pharaoh’s soldier, Edifu. Its mystical powers transport her into the bedroom of the man himself, who thinks she’s a gift from the gods and worships her with his mouth, his tongue…

When Rosie wakes up back home she thinks it’s all been an incredibly erotic dream. Until it happens again. She rediscovers the joy of sex and a newfound confidence with her hunky warrior, but she’s caught between her fantasy life and reality. When co-worker Nick starts to show his true feelings toward her, Rosie has to decide what it is she really wants.

Excerpt

Rosie stood in awe as she was transported into a scene reminiscent of a lavish Hollywood production. With her path lit by a burning torch mounted on the wall, she could see the compact gallery had expanded, its neutral décor now a vibrant yellow adorned with colorful painted frescoes. A large bed filled the floor space, its wooden posts carved into what looked like animal paws. Like poor Alice down the rabbit hole, Rosie grew curiouser and curiouser and stepped forward to investigate.

A dark figure rose from the depths of the bed and sent her scrabbling backward onto a wooden chest. She landed atop it with a thud.

“I’m so sorry to intrude. I don’t know how on earth I ended up here.” Wherever here may be. Have I sleepwalked mid-shift? Am I dreaming?

One way or another, weeks of sleep deprivation must have taken their toll. How else could she explain her appearance in someone else’s bedroom with no knowledge of how she’d got there? Unless the combination of cleaning chemicals she’d used had created some sort of hallucination. She could have mistaken their smell for the heady incense that filled her nostrils and gave her that woozy effect she got after a few glasses of wine.

The occupant’s hulking silhouette left her in no doubt about his gender. Especially when he leaped from the bed, naked. Oh my! Rosie didn’t know where to look. So she started from the shaved head and worked her way down.

Dark eyes, black kohl lined in the Egyptian fashion Rosie recognized from history books stared back at her. She followed the muscular trunk of his long body, as smooth as his head, down to the impressive cock swinging freely between strong thighs. Out of politeness, she averted her eyes, then to make sure she hadn’t exaggerated, took a second look.

Common sense screamed at her to get out after finding herself alone with a naked stranger. But she remained seated, frozen to the spot. The vision before her too surreal to fear.

The living statue of masculinity knelt at her feet, with an arm across his chest and his head bowed. “Goddess Anuke, you honor me with your presence,” he said.

He sounded so sincere but Rosie fought a bubbling laugh. Dressed in her navy uniform, she didn’t see how anyone could mistake her for a goddess. “Sir, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“My queen, mere moments have passed since I beseeched you for guidance on our forthcoming battle with the Hittites and traveling on the light of Ra you have appeared in my chamber.” Confusion shined in his almond-shaped eyes.

She stood up. Bless. She’d apparently stumbled into a mental hospital. A small sigh escaped her lips at the waste of such prime beefcake. “I am not a goddess or a queen. I’m just plain old Rosie Carter.”

The ‘patient’ rose to his feet and gave her an up-close and personal view of his anatomy. She found his appendage strangely hypnotic. With only experience of her now ex-husband as a lover, she could see exactly how much she had missed out on.

“Hmm. Your strange attire would indeed appear ineffective armor for the goddess of war. If you are not the goddess herself and she has not sent you, then perhaps Qadesh? Such a gift from the goddess of sexual pleasure would surely increase a mortal’s prowess on the battlefield tenfold.” He drew a thick fingertip from the hollow of her throat to the zipper on her smock. Rosie had gone from goddess to sex toy in one fell swoop.

Buy Links: Totally Bound, Amazon, All Romance

Author Bio:

Jorja Lovett is a British author with both Irish and Scottish roots, which makes for a very dry sense of humour. Writing since she was old enough to wield a pen, it wasn't until she joined her crit group, UCW, that she pursued her passion seriously.

Now, with Joe Manganiello as her permanent muse, if she can leave the pause button on her Magic Mike dvd long enough, she hopes to spend the rest of her days writing steamy romances.

You can stalk Jorja here: Website, Blog, Facebook, Twitter

You Don't Have to be Neurotic to Work Here…But it Helps

By Jorja Lovett (Guest Blogger)

How much do you let fear rule your life? For me, personally, worrying is a way of life for me. As the eldest of three girls I was the sensible one, looking out for my sisters and never taking risks. I'm not ashamed to say I was a boring teenager. Apart from the odd outpouring of teenage angst, there was no real rebellious stage. The most outrageous thing I did was get engaged at eighteen, whilst I was still in school. Even then I didn't tell anyone for fear I'd get into trouble.

Fast forward a couple of years and I was married at twenty, pregnant at twenty-one, and quite happy being at home. Still not wildly exciting I'm sure you'll agree, and anyone who met me would always describe me as quiet (boring).

Strangely enough my turning point came when my mum passed away aged only fifty-three. Something inside me decided enough was enough. Life was too short to spend doing housework and wondering what could have been. So, I started writing again. It was something I'd done on and off for years, but never really committed to.

Family never really pressed to ask what I was writing and I think everyone saw it as nothing more than a past-time. Writing opened me up to a whole new life. I met my crit group online who gave me so much confidence, as a person, and a writer. And soon publishers were sending me contracts for my work. It was a wonderful feeling but I still kept it quiet. Why? Because I write erotic romance. I couldn't possibly tell anyone what I did without dying of embarrassment.

For two years I wrote and published books as Jorja Lovett in secret. Only my husband and my best friends knew my saucy secret. I was convinced if people knew they would only use it to humiliate me and I couldn't bear to have something I loved into a joke. But, the more people I let into my secret, the more interesting I seemed to become. Friends these days rarely talk to me about anything other than my books and sex and I'm loving my new found notoriety.

I've also had the confidence to go travelling to meet my crit group in London and Scotland, and someday I hope to go further afield. Once upon a time I would've been afraid to travel abroad because I didn't know the language or the area, but these days I can't wait to go exploring. We've only got one life to live and I intend to pursue my dreams. If things don't work out, I know at least I've tried, and that's got to be better than a lifetime of regret.

How about you? What big dreams do you have? Leave a comment and you could be in with a chance of winning a copy of my new book, Titanic's Ondine.

[What a coincidence! My most recent release, Rough Weather, also features a water spirit, who happens to be named Ondine! So to sweeten the pie, I'll also give away a copy of Rough Weather to some lucky person who comments on today's post! (Not the same person as Jorja's winner!) ~ Lisabet]

Blurb

Can a water nymph save her true love from the Titanic or are they both doomed forever?

Water nymph Madeleine has spent a lifetime searching for the human she can marry to become mortal. Finally, she finds true love with Joe Marlowe, but the romance is put on hold when he signs up as crew for the Titanic.

Joe never expects to see Maddy on board the ship but she's a welcome sight during the voyage. He knows she's keeping a secret from him but it doesn't diminish his love for her. They have the rest of their lives to discover each other. After an unforgettable night together in the Titanic's indoor pool he knows he's found the woman he wants to marry.

As the liner sails towards its fate, can Madeleine save Joe, and find her happy ever after?

Excerpt

“I find the setting perfect for a romantic affair. Glamorous liners bound for faraway places, carrying young men with fire in their bellies. Why it’s enough to get any young lady’s pulse racing.” She ran a fingertip down his white shirt to distract him from his questioning. That slight contact with the man she loved was enough to start a fiery lust consuming her from the inside out.

“Madeleine—” The ragged manner in which Joe addressed her didn’t sound like a scolding, or an attempt to stop her.

“Shh!” A finger on his lips and a coy smile was all it took for him to discard his gentlemanly manners and let his passion take hold.

He was deceptively masterful in the seduction stakes. His firm lips staked their claim with a series of breath-taking kisses that almost made her mourn the time they had wasted thus far in their chaste courtship.

Crushed against the rough fabric of his jacket—Madeleine’s nipples hardened beneath the thin silk of her green dress—sensitized and begging to be noticed. Joe didn’t disappoint. He traced his thumb over one prominent peak. The simple over-the-clothing contact sent her body into raptures and generated an ache in her loins that she wanted him to remedy.

Her head told her to go carefully. He thought of her as a lady—pure and innocent—and not one to give herself away before her wedding night. But that other, sinful part of her wanted him regardless of the consequences. And that craving won out. She pressed herself closer to him until she was left with no doubt he felt the same. The ridged evidence in his trousers nestled into the skirts of her dress and she couldn’t stop herself from running her hand along the impressive length of him.

She half expected him to back away in shock or disgust. So when he took it one step further by cupping her breast firmly in his hand, her legs all but buckled beneath her. He scooped her breast from her dress, exposing it to the cool April air. Her pussy swelled with need. With each massage he gave her flesh, she came one step closer to nirvana, moaning as the moisture from her arousal soaked her skin and clothes.

Joe backed her away from the main walkway and pinned her against the wall of a ramshackle wooden building, creating a scenario Madeleine wouldn’t have believed possible. Of course, she imagined her reserved Joe to be a considerate lover, but she hadn’t expected their explosive chemistry to lead them to the point of making love outdoors.

Joe lifted her skirts, skimming his hand along the tops of her stockings, and then grabbed her ass to pull her onto his still imprisoned cock. Driven by mounting impatience, Madeleine reached to undo the buttons of his trousers and take the next step in their relationship.

It turned out to be a step too far. Moments later, the strong arms around her pushed where they once pulled her to him. Joe wrenched his mouth away.

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” he pleaded, voice unsteady.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she told him.

Except, perhaps, being too chivalrous. One brief encounter with the saviour of her long-lost virtue wasn’t nearly enough, but she dared not raise his suspicions with further unladylike behaviour.

“You deserve more than a rushed fumble by the docks, Maddy. When the time comes, I want it to be something special, a memory to be cherished forever. Though I don’t know how I’ll get through these next weeks without even kissing you again.”

Joe rested his forehead against hers. His was beaded with sweat from the effort of his restraint.

Not on my account, she wanted to scream, but the moment had passed. She adjusted her clothes.

He behaved as though the last ten minutes had not happened and picked up the conversation regarding his departure. But all she wanted to do was move farther into his embrace, make this night last forever.

“Will you wave me off when I leave?”

As much as he deserved a teary farewell, she shook her head. “It’s not my place.”

She wouldn’t encroach on the intimate family moment which accompanied his every journey.

That was their time. This was hers.

“Let’s say our goodbyes now.” Madeleine stood on tiptoe to offer up her lips.

This time, Joe’s kiss was a slow exploration mapping out the contours of her lips, as though he were memorizing her taste. That sensuous perusal finally eroded the jaded view she harboured for the male species. Joe didn’t demand, simply took what she willingly gave, and he returned it with love. He respected her, cherished her, and, for the first time in decades, Madeleine let herself trust.

* * * *

Don't forget to leave a comment with your email address. You've got two chances to win!

Available Now From TotallyBound, AllRomance, Amazon

About Jorja

Jorja Lovett is a British author with both Irish and Scottish roots, which makes for a very dry sense of humour. Writing since she was old enough to wield a pen, it wasn't until she joined her crit group, UCW, that she pursued her passion seriously.

Now, with Joe Manganiello as her permanent muse, if she can leave the pause button on her Magic Mike dvd long enough, she hopes to spend the rest of her days writing steamy romances.

Author Links:

Facebook

Blog

Website

Or Twitter: @jorjalovett