Dream lover in the flesh.... #soulmates #eroticromance #giveaway @RoxanneDHoward

Blurb

Dreams are the perfect shelter for fantasies, safe havens to step inside without changing our daily lives. For Lark Braithwaite, all that is about to change. During the last six months, Lark has dreamt of a mysterious Irish lover who knows what she wants and gives her exactly what she needs. In her waking life in busy London, things aren't as ideal as her long-term relationship with her controlling fiancé Charles has hit a dry spell.

When Lark is called home to Oregon for her father's funeral, she comes face to face with the demons from her past, but she never expects to meet her dream lover in the flesh. Niall O'Hagan steps straight out of her fantasies and into her life, and the powerful connection they share rocks her foundation. Although she's dealing with the bitterness of her fiancé's betrayal and his jealousy, Niall soon stirs Lark's awareness of her superficial existence and reawakens her sexuality....and her soul.

Excerpt

If the kiss had stayed careful and guarded, she might have continued to question it. But the blindfold disappeared. She’d fallen asleep. Her eyes flew open, and he was there. Oh, my God. He was there! Heated eyes watched her. Rakish dark hair fell over his forehead as he breathed hard, and the morning sun lit up the world behind him. She shuddered and took a deep breath to speak, but his hands moved to cup her face. He held still and closed his eyes as his lips took her mouth. Right then and there, she knew with crystal clarity this was real. This was the weight of a real man on top of her, clothed. He smelled citrusy and freshly laundered. What in the hell is this?

How did he get here? He was only her dream lover.

Or was he?

Confused beyond all comprehension, Lark didn’t have any time to contemplate a single thing. His lips delivered a breath-stealing, soul-shattering kiss, and then they were all over each other. This, ah, this she knew. Lark hooked her ankle over his, put a hand on his shoulder, and tried to rid him of his jacket as she drew him closer. She fisted his hair as he devoured her mouth. He tasted the same as her dream lover, and she put her tongue in his mouth to savor more of his tangy sweetness.

They both made noises they never had in her dreams, breathy gasps and blasts of air as their mouths met and separated as they sought new angles and depths to their passion.

He made a disgruntled sound as he tried to get more comfortable in the cradle of her hips over the hindrance of clothes. This wasn’t a dream. He nibbled on her lower lip as she opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but then he carried her away in the undercurrent of his large, warm hands, which caressed the skin of her stomach beneath her hoodie and T-shirt. She continued to accept his kisses but pawed her zipped-up sweat jacket. Okay, so she was still clothed. He was rock hard against her, and he ground his hips into her. A disbelieving grunt escaped his lips. Lark shivered at the jolt that went through her.

“Wh— Mmm. Whoa. Stop,” She managed against his mouth. She furrowed her eyebrows and scrutinized him as he breathed in and out. He braced himself on the weight of his hands above her, his bright green eyes bearing into hers. His face was the face of her dreams—the sensual bowed lips and cleft chin, the built body, and the thick hair. His hair… She blinked. His hair was cut at the nape and styled for a day at work. She glanced at his clothes.

“Um, why are you wearing a suit and tie this time?” She squinted against the sunlight. Please, God, let this be a dream. He moved his head and put her in shade.

FROM PUBLISHER'S WEEKLY: "Howard (The Longer They Last) explores the concept of fated love in this skillfully woven contemporary erotic romance. Lark Braithwaite, an American in London, is living with her British fiancé, Charles Chase, when she starts dreaming of a sexy mystery man with an Irish brogue. After Lark gets word that her estranged father has died and she returns to her Oregon hometown for the funeral, she meets the dream man in the flesh: he's her parents' widowed lawyer, Niall O'Hagan. Lark quickly falls in love with Niall, struggling to decide whether she should follow her heart or the commitment she's made to her fiancé-a decision that gets easier when Charles shows his true and ugly colors... Explicit sex scenes crackle with heat, and Howard's characters invite readers to come in and get lost on the pages with them as the plot hurtles toward a shocking, but not unbelievable, climax involving Lark's father's past and her future. Erotic romance fans will devour Howard's suspenseful and heart-filled story."

About the Author

Roxanne D. Howard is a U.S. Army veteran who has a bachelor's degree in Psychology and English. She loves to read poetry, classical literature, and Stephen King. Also, she is an avid Star Wars fan, musical theater nut, and marine biology geek. Roxanne resides in the western U.S., and when she's not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and children. Roxanne loves to hear from her readers, and encourages you to contact her via her website and social media.

Author Links

Website: www.roxannedhoward.com

Newsletter: http://roxannedhoward.com/subscribe

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RoxanneDHowardAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/RoxanneDHoward

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/roxanned.howard

Bookbub:

https://www.bookbub.com/profile/roxanne-d-howard-2db98b1d-431f-4065-ba0e-6eef7cca7142

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Roxanne-D.-Howard/e/B01BURXAVW

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15019190.Roxanne_D_Howard

Buy Link 

https://www.amazon.com/When-You-Close-Your-Eyes-ebook/dp/B07L162YB5/ref=sr_1_1

Roxanne D. Howard will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

The Food of Love -- #PNR #ForbiddenLove #Merman @AliceRAuthor

By Alice Renaud (Guest Blogger)

“If music be the food of love, play on!” wrote Shakespeare, and both music and food play a big part in my stories. Today I’ll focus on food, which is one of my favourite topics. I was born and brought up in France, where food is an essential part of culture, identity and family life. Every major event and festival is marked by a meal, usually several courses long, with assorted wines. Families and friends stay around the table for hours, eating and chatting. As for romance, an area where the French feel they are experts, food is an essential part of courtship. Dates usually take place around a meal – in a restaurant or at home. Both men and women are expected to cook, and show off their culinary skills to impress potential partners.

One of my university friends was a very beautiful, sexy girl. This guy was mad about her, but she wasn’t interested. Not easily discouraged, he became her friend, and one day, he made lunch for her. Bingo! He was a first class cook. They’ve been married for twenty-five years now and have two beautiful daughters.

However I had a slight problem in this wonderful world of food and romance. I can’t cook. OK, that’s not quite true. Anyone can cook, given the right equipment, ingredients, and instructions. I could do it… with a lot of effort… and coaching from my mum… and hours spent slaving over the cooker… but the results were never quite as I expected. French men have high standards, so I wasn’t very successful in the romance arena, either. Then at the age of twenty-six, I moved to London, UK. Complete change of scene! Whilst the British love to eat and watch cookery shows, they’re not so big on actually cooking. Socialising and flirting usually takes place over a drink… or two. The first date is often in a coffee shop, the second date in a wine bar or pub. When he invites you to a restaurant, you know he’s serious about you.

My first date with the (British) love of my life was in a very nice Moroccan restaurant, that’s how I knew he really liked me and wanted a serious relationship. I didn’t really notice the food… I was focused on his blue eyes and the fact that he’d brought me red roses. On a first date! The guy meant business. We’ve been married for thirteen years now and I’m a very lucky woman. And yes… he cooks all our meals. Well, he understood early on that he had little choice, unless he was ready to live on takeaways for the rest of his life.

The hero of my book A Merman’s Choice, Yann, loves food, and can cook. It’s part of his appeal. Food and drink are a gift for a romance writer, you can create a really sensual scene and show the characters bonding over their meal… enjoying the tastes, and textures… getting closer… and closer… until they’re savouring each other rather than the food. And if your hero or heroine is shy, alcohol is a great way to loosen those inhibitions a little. 

Yann is a shape-shifting merman who falls in love with a human woman, Alex. Mermen are forbidden from marrying humans, so Yann has some serious obstacles to overcome in order to achieve his happily-ever-after with Alex. When Yann and Alex have their first argument, he appeases her by offering her fish and chips (a very traditional British treat), washed down with cider. Later, when they are caught up in a storm, and end up in Yann’s house, he prepares another meal for her – oysters and whisky. Just as whisky is stronger than cider, so the heat level in their relationship goes up a notch… or two. To learn more… read the excerpt below!

I hope you have enjoyed this post and will be tempted to discover more about Yann and Alex’s forbidden love and the world of the merfolk.

Contest and giveaway – Free book! For a chance to win a free PDF copy of my book, just leave a comment on this post! I will select the winner from those who have commented.

A Merman’s Choice – Book 1 in the Sea of Love series

For centuries the shape-shifting mermen of the Morvann Islands have lived incognito among humans. But one of them, Yann, has developed some bad habits. Like rescuing humans, even when doing so risks revealing his true nature. When he fishes Alex out of the sea, he doesn’t expect her to reappear eight months later, and turn his life upside down by asking him to be her guide.

Alex is determined to fulfil a promise to her dying grandmother, by gathering pictures and stories of the Morvanns. But she soon discovers that, on these remote Welsh islands, legends have a habit of becoming true!

Over the course of a few days, Yann and Alex grow close. But some mermen hate humans. Their hostility, and Yann’s secret, threaten to tear the couple apart just as they are discovering that they are soul mates. Can Yann overcome the obstacles in his path and make the right choice?

Book buy links 

https://amzn.to/2QglyeI

https://books2read.com/u/31xw7a

Excerpt

Yann went to the dresser against the wall and picked up a bottle and two glasses. “Would you like a dram of whisky to warm you up?”

Alex slid back down the sofa. His ears registered the squeak of leg against leather, and his mind instantly pictured her sprawled on the cushions, her golden hair fanned behind her head, milky thighs open wide. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the maddening image.

Her voice dropped into a seductive purr. “I’m quite warm already, thank you. But I can cope with more heat.”

He poured a glass of the golden liquid and brought it to her.

“Thank you.” She sipped it and made a grimace, which turned into a smile. “Even better than cider.”

Her mouth glowed against her milky skin like a forbidden fruit. He thought of the first summer berries, tart redcurrants, juicy raspberries. Would she taste like them?

They needed food. If he didn’t get lunch down her soon, she’d get drunk. The demon voice in his mind whispered that Alex would be great fun if she lost her inhibitions. He tried to shut the demon out. What could he prepare quickly?

He strode to the trap in the floor by the front door and lifted it. The smell and sound of seawater, sloshing in the dark, rose up.

Alex padded over to investigate. “Oh, wow. You have a whole aquarium down there!”

The corner of her blanket brushed his bare arm, sending another twig to feed the fire that smouldered in his loins.

“That’s how Islanders keep their seafood fresh. Why don’t you go and sit at the table, and I’ll open a dozen oysters for you?”

She didn’t need to see the tunnel on the side of the “aquarium,” that led to the lower floor of the house, the level that flooded at high tide and opened onto the sea. The level where a more respectable merman would spend most of his time.

She moved away, to the centre of the room where the oak table stood. Not far enough. He’d become so attuned to her that every one of her movements seemed to ripple across the space and lap against his body. He grabbed a knife and bucket from the tool shelf, snapped the first oyster open and dropped it in the bucket. Now she was crossing her legs, damn her. Did she know that the woollen fabric was opening, uncovering the ivory skin of her inner thigh? Was she flirting with him, or was it his imagination?

“I love oysters.” Her voice wrapped itself around him like a silk scarf. “Pity we don’t have any champagne to go with them, but this whisky is just as good.”

Too late, he remembered that for mainlanders, oysters weren’t a cheap, quick meal. On the mainland, oysters were the food of seduction. An aphrodisiac. What if Alex was misreading his intentions?

Or rather, what if she were reading them all too well?

She patted the bench next to her. “Come and sit here. I can’t eat all these oysters on my own.”

Her grin gave the lie to her words. Her grin said, “I can gobble them all up, and you with it.”

About the Author

Alice was born and brought up in Brittany, Western France, her father was French and her mother British (from Wales). She moved to London, UK, in 1997, where she now lives with her husband and son. She works full time as a compliance specialist in a pharmaceutical company. She has been writing in her free time since she was 14. She got quite a few short stories published in UK magazines, before moving to longer fiction. She wrote three contemporary romance books, but didn’t find a publisher for them. She then realized that mermen, sea witches and water demons were a lot more fun than sheikhs and billionaires!

Her first two paranormal romances did not find a publisher either, then she wrote “A Merman’s Choice,” which was published in January this year by Black Velvet Seductions. It is the first book in a fantasy romance trilogy inspired by the landscapes and legends of Brittany and Wales. The second book, “Music for a Merman,” will be out later this year.

She’s also written a short story, “The Sweetest Magic of All,” that will appear in the BVS supernatural romance anthology “Mystic Desire,” due this fall (autumn). It’s about a sexy apprentice witch and a hot time-travelling warlock who go in search of a magical amulet... and find more than they bargained for!

Alice loves reading and writing stories, and sharing them with anyone who’s interested!

Author links

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AliceRenaudAuthorRomance/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/alicerauthor

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/alice-renaud-author-4219b6166/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alicerenaudauthor/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18670218.Alice_Renaud

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alice-renaud

Don't forget to comment for a chance to win! Please include your email address so I can find you!

 

Why Zombies? (#zombieapocalypse #romance #giveaway @Jill_James)

By Jill James (Guest Blogger)

When I was a little girl I was terrified of being buried alive. It haunted my dreams so much that I knew as a little kid that I would be cremated. Then, you are dead for sure. Once I was old enough to read The Premature Burial by Edgar Allen Poe it just emphasized that I had been right all along. You do not want to be buried alive. The whole zombie genre just reiterates that. Being a zombie is being seen as dead but you are not. They are buried, just minus the dirt. Not how I want to go, thank you very much.

I get asked a lot why zombies when I write romance novels. I truly believe there is someone out there for everyone. So I write romances, but they are set in the zombie apocalypse. If you can find your soul mate, your other half, amid flesh-eating zombies, ruthless renegades, and limited supplies of food and water, how hard can it be in the real world. Get out there. Meet people. Live. That special someone is out there waiting for you. I believe that. I write it into my stories. I live each day with my forever love.

I’ve been fascinated with the zombie genre since Night of the Living Dead by George Romero. If there is a zombie movie out there, I’ve probably seen it. My eReader is full of zombie apocalypse books. The idea intrigues me, that the world as we know it could be gone overnight. It is closer than ever before. The more electronics we rely on, the less we know how to do things the old-fashioned way. We are one EMP away from going back to the pre-Industrial age. Every time you use your computer or Smart phone for something, think of what you would do without it. I have family who couldn’t get across town without a GPS. Friends who are connected to their Smart phones live an invalid with an IV. We’ve lived without them before. Could we do so again? What if we were forced to?

In my zombie apocalypse books, I love seeing if people could not only survive The End Of The World As We Know It (TEOTWAWKI as the preppers say) but find time to discover true love, because what is survival without love? My characters face the end of the world head on. They band together to face the apocalypse, making friendships and love relationships.

So, why zombies? Because I would never survive the very first hours of a zombie apocalyptic outbreak, so I write kickass heroines that not only survive, but thrive, and find true love. In Love in the Time of Zombies, Emily Gray is a rich, San Francisco society matron who finds her true self in the times of zombies.

Excerpt from Love in the Time of Zombies by Jill James

When we got there, they’d put us through a bunch of tests: agility, strength, skills, and shooting. I’d scored a hundred at all distances. No picking apples for this girl, I was a member of the undead hunting patrol.

Breakfast out of the way, I cleaned up my section of the roof. Gathering up my dirty clothes, and believe me, you haven’t seen dirty until you try to get zombie guts out of your shirt, I took them to my friend, Michelle, who had laundry duty this month. Michelle Greggs had been on the wild ride with me out of San Francisco. We’d clung to each other all night as the horde of undead tried to get to the fresh meat inside the fortified school bus. Rotted fingers poked between the welded metal sheets and their moans stayed with us long after the trip was over. We’d been friends ever since. Shit like that is a real bonding moment.

She stopped me with an upraised hand, and then grabbed a pair of surgical gloves before taking my clothes. We’d all told her countless times that she couldn’t get the mutated virus from simple contact; because we pretty much all had the virus, but she continued to use the gloves. We all have our idiosyncrasies since this all started and we’d let her have hers.

She dropped into a curtsy. “And would madam like these pressed and folded as well?”

I played along. “Yes and any spots left will come out of your pay.” I put up my chin and looked down my nose at her. I could have done a dowager countess proud.

Michelle laughed. I would play any silly game to get that light, airy sound from her, even if it were a mockery of my pre-Z life. Or maybe, my pre-Z life had been a mockery of reality all along.

Unlike me, my friend had loved her husband with all her heart and had to kill him when he’d turned. She’d told me the sad story on the bus with the caveat that she would never mention it again.

“Now, go kill those skinbags,” she ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, giving her a snappy salute. We all had our names for the zombies we had to kill. Some used other names to make it easier. Parents in our group used funny names to make it less scary for the children. Way back when, before my time, there had been a late-night local show, Creature Features, and the parents had taken to calling the zombies Black Lagooners. But for the life of me, I couldn’t see how anything made what we were going through less scary. Maybe kids had a defense mechanism I was missing. I was scared shitless most days.

Buy link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00RHGTYUC

Leave me a comment sharing your thoughts about zombies. I'll randomly pick one person who'll receive a $5 GC. 

Don't forget to include your email address!

About Jill

Jill James writes contemporary, paranormal, and urban fantasy romance. When she isn’t writing, she is reading. She lives in Northern California with her husband who is the inspiration behind all of her romance novel heroes.

You can find Jill at Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/Jill.James.author Twitter - http://www.twitter.com/jill_james and find out about her new releases by signing up for her newsletter – http://eepurl.com/hvtn-