Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Promoting Your Book(s) Without Driving Away Readers (#guestblog #pnr #socialmedia)


Marketing quote


By N.N. Light (Guest Author)

You’ve just published a book. Congratulations! You’ve done something that many have tried and few have succeeded. Give yourself a pat on the back… then put on your thinking cap. It’s time for the next step: promoting your book.

Book promotion is something most authors dread. I get that and I’m here to help. Being an author myself, I know how overwhelming it is to sell and market your book. In today’s publishing market, both traditional and indie authors are expected to promote and be active on social media.

Lisabet asked me to share some book promotion tips with you today. Who am I? My name is Mrs. N and I’m the co-owner of N. N. Light Author Promotions. I’m a social media marketer by trade and I have the social media reach of over thirty-million. I’ve been in the book industry for over twenty-six years and I specialize in matching books to readers. In addition, I’m the author of three books (with more on the way) and I firmly believe in authors helping authors succeed.

Below are my three tried-and-true tips to promoting your book(s) without alienating readers. The key to effective book promotion is to balance selling of your wares and connecting with your followers/readers.

Tip #1: Be a real live person. 

In the digital age, robots and automation are everywhere. Don’t be a talking billboard on social media. Don’t scream at the top of your lungs, “BUY MY BOOK! BUY MY BOOK! BUY MY BOOK!” Instead, connect with your followers and take an actual interest in their lives. Say hello and talk about things that interest you.

When I first joined Twitter, I had no followers. I started following people who shared similar interests. I soon had a following and made connections. I built a trust with my followers and laid a foundation that’s more valuable than money. Sure, it was a slow process but these same followers are still with me today.

Love to bake, shop, hunt, travel or another hobby? Talk about it online. Intersperse news about your writing and books with what you like to do in your free time. Your following will soon grow and readers will connect with you, the person.

Tip #2: Pick three social media outlets and be consistent.

Every day, a new social media outlet pops up. It’s hard to keep up. I mean, who has time to tweet, pin, facebook, tsu, post pics on Instagram, etc.? I surely don’t. Readers want consistency so here’s my advice: pick three social media outlets that work for you. For me, it’s my blog, Twitter and Pinterest. I post to my blog every day (Monday through Friday), tweet 24/7 and add pins to my Pinterest boards at least once a week.

My followers know if they want to connect with me, the first place they do it is Twitter. It’s my go-to platform and I’m always on there. I’m a social butterfly and I love how Twitter is like a global social club. I meet people from all over the world, get news I can’t get elsewhere and connect with people I’m interested in. I can share my thoughts on a topic without having to explain myself. If I have news to share (whether personal or professionally), it goes out to my followers and even strangers (when I use the right hashtags).

My blog is my secret weapon. Secret weapon? Yes! Every day, I create new content online and Google grabs it, sorts it and ranks it. Through SEO (Search Engine Optimization), I’m able to help Google get my writing into the hands of readers. Since I started blogging, my followers have sky-rocketed.

Authors underestimate how powerful a tool a blog is. Not only can you have one place where you can promote your book(s), the more you write, the higher your blog gets ranked by Google. Think about it for a second. Every time you post something on your blog, your writing goes out into the world. If you post twice a week for a whole year, that’s 104 sales pitches for you as a writer and author.

Sales pitches?

Yes, sales pitches. Each time you write a blog post, it’s a sales pitch for someone to read, secretly disguised as an inspirational thought, writing tip, recipe, book review, vacation memories, holiday remembrance, etc. Someone who’s never heard of you will run across your blog post and read your writing.
What happens next will be up to your writing. If your writing inspires/moves the reader, they’ll comment, follow your blog or even check out your book(s).

The best thing about using your blog to showcase your writing is that it’s absolutely free. It doesn’t cost you a thing and the results will astound you.

Remember one important thing about social media: be consistent. No matter what social media platform you use, be consistent. You don’t have to post every day like me. Find what works for you and do it. If it’s only once a week or once every two weeks, that’s fine. Just let your followers know what the schedule is so they’re in the loop. If they think you’ve abandoned them, they’ll leave and won’t come back.

Tip #3: Use graphics in your promotion.  

Studies show that 76% more readers will click-through to check out your book(s) if a graphic/photo accompanies your blog posts/tweet/update. Readers are visual creatures and one way to pique their interest is to create a quote graphic.

Find a compelling quote that will draw readers in. Create a graphic using one of the many software applications available (Photoshop, Adobe, Canva, etc) and save it to your computer/device. I have a folder with all the graphics I’ve used for my books so it’s easy to post to Twitter/Pinterest/Blog.

I can’t stress this enough, use graphics in Twitter and on your blog. Trust me, you’ll get more readers intrigued with a visual aid than by saying you have a book for sale.

Like the graphic states at the top of this post, it all comes down to trust. Readers will be more likely to buy your book(s) if you have established a connection and they trust you. I’ve built trust as an authentic author/blogger/reviewer and readers trust me when I tell them something is great.

I hope these tips have helped you to see that book promotion is not only essential but fun, too. You’ve done the hard stuff, writing and publishing the book. Promotion is sharing your writing with the world while building your brand.



Title: Princess of the Light
Author: N. N. Light
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: September 2, 2014


Mary's the Princess of the Light but her only hope is to make a pact with her enemy.

Mary Miller receives a startling visitation from Gabriel, the Messenger of God. The Archangel reveals an astounding truth--Mary is the Princess of the Light and even more amazing, her destiny is to battle Lucifer's army of demons and restore the balance of good and evil on Earth. It's getting harder to fulfill her new role and keep her identity secret while juggling her personal life, and when Than, Lucifer's second in command, amps up the attacks on her, she knows she needs help.

Joe Deacons is everything she's ever wanted in a man. And as providence would have it, in a moment of great need, he's the Warrior of Light--the one who can help her defeat the forces of darkness.

Not so simple when they confront Lisbeth, a demon hell-bent on usurping Than and Lucifer himself. When Lisbeth wages war and several innocent people die, Mary must form an alliance with her enemy in order to destroy her. But will this be a grave error or the choice that saves their world?

Special Sale!

During the month of September, Princess of the Light is on sale for the super-low price of $.99 USD. 100% of the proceeds during this time will go directly to our local food bank to help feed children and families in need. This is the first time Princess of the Light has ever been this low and who knows when it will be this low again.


Book Cover Graphic Artist Credit:
Illustration : streamy digital
Model : VictoriaAndrea
Photo : shutterstock/depositphoto

Excerpt

I sunk into the water, and let the suds and scent of lavender engulf me. The stress of the day finally began to melt away.

My body jolted.

I was in the middle of the desert. There were grass huts and women with hajjis walking quickly around me. Something whizzed past my ear, and a deafening explosion rocked me off my feet. I instinctively curled my body in a fetal position.

I listened for the screams to start, but it was eerily silent. I glanced around, but all I saw was water.

I was still in the bath. What had just happened? Was that a vision? Had I fallen asleep?

My headache was a dull thud now.

A knock on the washroom door made me gasp. I sat upright in the tub and heard my roommate, Amber, call in, “Mary, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Just must have fallen asleep.”

“Hey, Amber, what time is it?” I looked down at my pruney fingers and wondered how long I was in the tub.

Amber said, “It’s five thirty.”

I leaned forward and turned on the hot water. The bath water had gotten cold while I had drifted off.

I leaned back as the warm water ran over my toes and closed my eyes, wondering what I should wear tonight. I wanted to look beautiful for Joe. I began to picture every outfit in my closet, and tried to imagine his reaction to it.

A shiver ran down my back and I faintly hear the water splash over the edge.

I opened my eyes and tried to scream. All that came out was a reverse gasp, and I pulled my towel in to cover my body.

A small child appeared in the tub. He couldn’t be older than five. Blood ran down his face, and his body was covered in sand mixed with congealing blood. He was clinging to my towel and I didn’t know whether to let go of it or yank it back from him. His dark hair was wet with fresh blood. My heart filled with sadness and I quit trying to scream.

As I clung to my own towel, I didn’t know what was happening or what I should do.

The little boy raised his head and more sadness poured into my heart. His eyes were dark pools of grief and despair. They pleaded with me, begging me to help.

How? I mouthed silently.

I jumped when he began to move slowly toward me. He lifted one arm and spoke in a language I didn’t recognize. I knew I didn’t know exactly what his words meant, but I knew what he was saying: He was hurt and needed help.

The closer he came, the more my fear eased and the pain increased. He reached for my arm. His hand was bloodied, and it sent a jolt of electricity and agony throughout my body. I tried to pull away, but his grip was locked on my arm. His eyes turned black and murky, and a voice not his own spoke.

“Princess, help my people,” it said.

I shook my head.

“Let go!” I tried to scream again.

The little boy disappeared, and I jumped out of the bathtub, wet towel still wrapped around my body, and crumbled to the floor. The blood was smeared all around me, and I looked at my arm. The blood was still there, too.

I whimpered, scrubbed at my arm until it was raw, and yet I could still see the blood.


Buy Links









Goodreads:

About the Author



N. N. Light is the husband-wife writing team, commonly known as Mr. N and Mrs. N. Mrs. N. has been creating stories ever since she was little. Her grandfather remembers when she was two years old, she would stand at the top of the stairs and tell him a story filled with emotion (and in a language foreign to him) with her hands on her hips. Let’s just say she was a born storyteller.

They’re blissfully happy and love all things chocolate, books, music, movies, art, sports, trains, history, cooking and baking. Their mantra is to spread the Light.

Most of the time you can find them on Twitter or getting new ideas on how to spread the Light on Pinterest. They’re a proud member of ASMSG, Independent Author Network and Marketing for Romance Writers.

In addition to being authors, they’re also book promoters/reviewers, social media marketers/influencers and the owners of N. N. Light Author Promotions. They both love books, have ever since they were young. Matching up books and readers is something that gives them great pleasure.

100% of the proceeds of Princess of the Light go directly to food banks (US and Canada) in order to feed the hungry and help those in need. With only 7,500 books sold, N. N. Light will be able to set up a monthly endowment for the local food bank.

They’d love to connect with you either via email or via these various social media sites:












Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Review Tuesday: A Variety of Chains by Christine Blackthorn (#review #pnr #vampire)



A Variety of Chains by Christine Blackthorn
Sinful Press, 2016

Kathryn McClusky is an ErGer—a mortal woman with a rare mutation which makes her blood addictive to vampires and predisposes her to bond mentally and sexually with blood drinkers. Since she discovered her nature as an adolescent, she has been a fugitive, fleeing the cruelty of greedy immortals for whom she is both a drug and a political asset. With nothing but her wits and her courage, she has managed to protect her small family over the years— two adopted sisters, a mysterious daughter, and her wastrel older brother Paul. When Paul is captured by the vampire Lord Lucian, Kathryn believes she has no choice but to offer herself to the Lord in order to buy her brother’s freedom.

Lucian Neben has lived for more than six hundred years. With intelligence, patience and raw power, he rules the vampires of London and maintains a balance between the worlds of the humans and the Fey. Yet all his power cannot provide what he most fervently desires—an escape from the lonely isolation that is the immortal’s destiny.

The exhausted and scarred woman who delivers herself into his hands offers him new hope that he might actually experience the joys of companionship and family. Before that can happen, though, he must penetrate the layers of suspicion and bitter resignation that armor her spirit. Given her ErGer nature, he could force her into an unbreakable psychic bond. Indeed, this is the counsel of his closest advisers. However, Lucian understands that this would destroy what he most craves, that he must coax Kathryn to voluntarily surrender her mind and heart to him as she already surrendered her body.

I had very mixed feelings about this book. On the positive side, Ms. Blackthorn succeeds brilliantly in bringing Kathryn to life. Abused and hunted for years, Kathryn trusts no one but herself, nothing but her evil destiny. Only her fierce concern for her family keeps her alive. She constantly tests the limits of her bargain with Lucian, allowing him only what she has explicitly promised. Her extremely gradual thaw in the face of Lucian’s patience and physicality struck me as plausible.

Lucian, however, is such a stereotyped vampire romance hero that I wanted to scream. Where are his faults? His weaknesses? He is of course what Kathryn needs, a man of strength and honor, but he’s really too good to be true.

I understand intellectually that vamp heroes have to be strong, magnetically attractive and sexually skilled. But why are they all into S&M? In the case of this book, I felt this did not ring true. The whips, the bonds, the blindfold, and the butt plugs seemed to have been inserted into the story only to satisfy the current craze for kinky erotic romance. Lucian doesn’t need them to coax Kathryn into loving him. Much as I adore BDSM, I honestly feel this story would have been more effective without these trappings. The struggle between Lucian and Kathryn is fundamentally about trust, which is definitely at the heart of a D/s relationship, but the toys Lucian imposes upon his ErGer reduced rather than enhanced the emotional impact of that struggle, at least for me.

It's credible that Lucian would be so entranced by Kathryn. He’s insightful enough to see her remarkable strength, facile mind and tenacious grip on life, in the face of almost insurmountable obstacles. Since she is mortal, however, I would assume he cannot keep her as his companion without killing her to make her a vampire. Lucian doesn’t seem to consider this issue at all, which struck me as odd.

I also found the premise of the book a bit silly—in particular the notion that an ErGer will be ripe for bonding only on February 14th.

Set against these somewhat negative observations, I have to praise Ms. Blackthorn’s writing style. Reading the chapters told from Kathryn’s perspective, I truly felt her despair, her anger and her confusion.

I am not sure how to wrap up this review. I had a variety of reactions to A Variety of Chains. I found the relatively slow pace of the book frustrating but at the same time I’m very curious to discover what will happen in the next volume of the series. I really don’t know whether to recommend the book or not.

I guess you’ll have to read it, and decide for yourself.


Monday, September 5, 2016

Oh, my anti-hero! (#heroes #stereotypes #eroticromance)


 
Stereotypes are seductive – and to some extent, they sell. A fair fraction of the readers of erotica and erotic romance want heroes who are six feet plus in height, ruggedly handsome, well-muscled, well-hung, brave, strong, rough yet tender, and indefatigably virile. And honestly, I can't blame them. There's nothing wrong with a bit of wish fulfillment.

I've written heroes with a capital H myself, especially in my earlier books. I mean, a nice bod and a pretty face are not to be sneezed at. But they're not enough. Call me perverse (many people have), but I find intelligence to be the most essential aspect of a sexy hero. Furthermore, I'm willing to accept less than stellar physical qualities if my hero is a clever, imaginative, horny genius who's smart enough to understand what will truly turn the heroine on.

I admit it. I've got a thing for nerds. When “The Man from UNCLE” was popular, I had the hots for skinny, intense Ilya Kuryakin, not the dashing alpha guy Napoleon Solo. I was hopelessly in love with Mr. Spock. (After all, think about making love while in the throes of a Vulcan mind-meld.) Near the top of my sexy, romantic movie list is "Earth Girls are Easy", featuring gangly, geeky Jeff Goldblum as a
brilliant alien. A more recent example of a sexy nerd is Clive Owen's short, unshaven, and amazingly ingenious character in the bank robbery thriller "Inside Man".

It's fairly easy to understand why I feel this way. Growing up, I was the egghead, the bookworm, the too-smart girl whom everyone made fun of. The only guys who could deal with me were the ones who were at least as smart as I was. They weren't on the football squad; they weren't voted Best Looking or Most Popular. But they had that something that could start my motors. It was intoxicating, yes, arousing, to have a conversation with some of these guys, especially when I got out of high school and into college. We understood each other, and I began to discover that despite their definite nerdish qualities, they were enthusiastic and innovative when it came to sex.

Actually, research has shown that in defiance of their public image as socially challenged losers, nerds are more successful than the general population in finding mates, staying with them, and producing
children. Of course, that is not necessarily going to endear them to readers who are seeking the ultimate sexual fantasy, but it's something to consider!

Anyway, some of my heroes – actually, my favorites – definitely don't fit the classic hero mold. The character of Rick Martell in Nasty Business is perhaps the most anti-heroic protagonist I've ever created. Physically, he's short, wiry, a bit rumpled, with a droopy, disreputable-looking mustache. He's manipulative, sneaky, dishonest, arrogant, and more than a little sexist. At the same time, he's a brilliant engineer and a wily strategist who matches every one of Ruby's maneuvers as they compete for a critical business deal. 


You almost hate Rick, when you see the way he takes advantage of the women around him. And yet, like Ruby, Margaret and Luna, I can't help finding him peculiarly attractive. He's simultaneously insightful, able to discern and use the desires of others for his own purposes, and blind when it comes to understanding his own emotions. He's brash and egotistical, not recognizing his own vulnerability, underestimating his opponents. Ultimately, though, he learns a lesson or two under Ruby's lash.

Want to meet him? Here's a quick snippet, after Rick's first attempt to get the upper hand in his dealings with Ruby.

***

I remember to grin and give poor Margaret a wink as I exit from Ruby’s office, but to be honest, I’m a bit shaken. I’m both amazed and annoyed. Annoyed that Ruby rejected my carefully prepared pitch. Amazed that she was able to. That she could be so icily professional, so scrupulously correct, after last night’s scene in the taxi. Clearly I underestimated her.

Women find it hard to resist me. It’s just a fact, something that’s been true since I was in my teens and my old amah ambushed me in the garden and gave me my first lessons in the fleshly arts. By now, I almost take it for granted.

I’m sure that it’s something primitive, biological. I know that I can’t take the credit. I’m smart, but no genius; rich, but no Bill Gates. As for my looks – well, let’s just say that at best I look innocuous, at worst, disreputable.

Yet I can walk into a crowded room, and every woman there will sense my presence. It’s mutual, too. I can hear the intake of their breath, feel the heat of the blood rising in them. Catch hints of their delicate musk as I sniff the air like the predator I am.

I should mention that I have an unusually acute sense of smell. Maybe that’s the source of it all, some trick of the wiring in my lower brain that gives me this delicious advantage.

Some people might think it’s unethical, that I should try and use this quirk of my personal chemistry to enrich myself. But each of us plays the hand we’re dealt. Why should I handicap myself by renouncing my greatest gift?

Ruby wants me. I know she does. Which makes her chilly reception during our interview all the more incredible. I’ve never met a woman with such self-control.

Now that our interview is over, the nervous tension that I kept at bay in her presence washes through my body. I literally am shaking. Margaret eyes me curiously.

“Are you unwell, Mr. Martell?” she asks. I get the feeling that a part of her wishes that I would expire immediately.

“Not at all, Margaret,” I reply. “Never been better. Ms. Chen and I had a most stimulating meeting.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she says frostily, and returns her gaze to the document she’s editing. She pretends to ignore me. I can feel her heat, I can smell her arousal, even from across the room.

I watch her for a few moments, admiring the graceful curve of her neck, the creamy skin of her bare forearms. I smile, recalling the way her nipples rose so smartly at my slightest touch. Margaret, at least, is not immune to my charms. But I decide to spare her any further attentions, for now.

“Thank you, Margaret. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.”

She does not reply. Her lips are pressed together in grim determination, but her flushed cheek tell the true story.

***

Yes, Rick isn't exactly the most admirable guy on the planet. But I'll tell you a secret: I love him. If I met him in the flesh, I'd never be able to resist his anti-heroic charms.

Sunday, September 4, 2016

Sunday Snog 242: Rough Weather (#pnr #sundaysnog #interracial)


(Giveaway alert! See the end of the post for details...)

It’s Sunday again already. Well, I’m up for it!

My Snog today comes from my paranormal erotic romance Rough Weather. It illustrates one of the things I adore about writing paranormal stories, the phenomenon I call “magical lust”. When two characters are destined for one another, by their complementary powers or other supernatural forces, they can experience an irresistible mutual attraction even though they’re strangers. In a realistic tale, the excerpt below might seem implausible, but in a paranormal book, I can take greater liberties with what’s believable.

When you’re done with my snog, I hope you’ll head back to Victoria’sSunday Snog home page, for more sexy kisses.

Destiny hides in the tempest’s heart

Ondine has always felt at home in the sea. Orphaned at birth and raised by her grandmother on the island of Martha’s Vineyard, she has never really questioned her extraordinary affinity for the watery world. She concentrates on her work as a marine biologist, spends her weekends relaxing among the waves, and worries about human threats to her beloved ocean environment. Fears of a deadly pregnancy like her mother’s make her cautious about sex.

When she encounters an attractive but arrogant engineer on her private beach, surveying the site for a prospective off-shore wind farm, anger is her first reaction. A casual touch, however, transforms that emotion to incomprehensible, irresistible, terrifying lust.

Ebony-skinned Marut has his own talents—aside from his uncanny ability to swamp Ondine with desire. He can control the winds and summon storms. He informs Ondine that they share a supernatural heritage and claims she is his destined mate. She responds with scepticism and tries to resist the charismatic Haitian, but ultimately her scientist’s training won’t permit her to deny the evidence of her senses—and her heart. As a brutal northeaster batters the island and Marut’s life hangs in the balance, Ondine learns that true power lies in surrender to her elemental nature.



A high-pitched whine drew her attention to the tumbled boulders that marked the eastern extent of the beach. Atop the pile of rock crouched a dark-skinned man, boring into the surface with some kind of drill.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Ondine strode towards the interloper, still holding her discarded clothing. “That noise—you’ll disturb the fish!” She halted on the sand below his perch, one hand shielding her eyes from the glare. “Stop that this instant!”

The stranger raised his head and fixed her with eyes like polished jet, set in a proud face almost as black. A cloud of wiry hair haloed his skull. He flipped a switch and the irritating noise died. His full lips parted in a confident smile, revealing even, pearly teeth. He rose to his full height—at least six feet, she guessed, though her position made him look even taller—and gazed down at her.

Self-consciousness blasted through her as she suddenly remembered she was naked. Hot blood raced to her face while her nipples tightened into ruddy peaks, and an echo of her recent climax shimmered in her still-damp pussy.

The stranger looked distinctly amused, as though he sensed the physical effects his presence triggered. There was something else, too, an unnerving sense of familiarity, although Ondine was certain she’d never met this man before.

She squared her shoulders, ignoring her embarrassment as best she could. She wasn’t ashamed of her body—far from it. “You can’t drill here. Tide pool habitats are very sensitive. The vibrations could kill crustacean larvae, for a start, and confuse organisms that rely on echolocation…”

The black man’s grin grew broader. He scanned her nude figure with deliberate and obvious interest before he answered. Ondine’s nipples ached under his scrutiny, even as her blood boiled at his brazen attitude.

“I have a permit.” His voice had an unexpected softness, with a faint hint of the Caribbean. He rifled in the pocket of his tight jeans and pulled out a sheet of paper, which he offered her. “Mass DEP. Go ahead and check. I think you’ll find it’s all in order.”

The sun beat down, hotter than ever. Sweat gathered under her arms and at the back of her neck. Ignoring the proffered permit, she planted her fists on her hips and summoned every ounce of authority she could muster.

“This beach is private, reserved for Katama residents. What’s your business here?”

Stuffing the permit back into his pants, he sank into a crouch to pick up a piece of equipment that he’d propped against a rock, next to a two-meter steel pole. His thigh muscles flexed against taut denim as he rose. His white T-shirt emphasised his ebony skin, sculpted pectorals and massive biceps—her mouth felt dry and her pussy, wet. “I’m installing a temporary meteo-hydrographic monitoring station.” The device bristled with lenses, buttons and dials, the pinwheel of an anemometer, and the tongue-like extrusion of a rain gauge. “Come on up. Take a look.”

“Just a minute.” She stepped into her shorts, then pulled her shirt over her head, trying to ignore the sensation of fleece brushing across her naked breasts. In her bare feet, she clambered up over the knobby, rust-coloured stone until she stood beside him. He towered over her. She caught a whiff of sandalwood and coconut oil and was washed by sudden desire.

He pointed to a white plastic rectangle. “This is the hygrometer, the humidity sensor.”

“Yes, yes, I understand. You’ve got a laser ceilometer for cloud height, I see, and an infrared camera for thermal imaging…”

“What…?”

She found his surprise gratifying, as he realised she wasn’t just a naked, blonde beach bunny.

“I’m a marine biologist. We use similar devices in my lab at Woods Hole. But Vineyard Airport has a full suite of weather instrumentation. Why are you installing this system here?”

“I’m working on the design for an offshore wind farm.”

“Wind mills?” Her indignation returned, blasting through her with hurricane fury. “Those spell death for sea birds!”

“We’re doing research—”

“And the awful, endless hum disorients cetaceans. They swim in circles until they starve to death!” She snatched the apparatus and held it above her head, threatening to smash it upon the rocks.

“Don’t! Please!” Seizing both her wrists in one massive hand, he pried the delicate gadget from her clutches with the other.

She did not fight him. When he touched her, her anger fled as quickly as it had arisen, to be replaced by irresistible, irrational lust. Her pussy gushed and her clit pulsed between her thighs. Electricity zipped along her limbs. Her modest breasts felt huge and heavy, aching for contact.

The stranger’s eyes grew wide. Sweat beaded on his forehead. She dropped her gaze to his crotch. A visible bulk distended the fabric there, evidence that he shared her reactions.

Without releasing her, he placed the weather station upon an outcrop, then dragged her into a rough embrace. Their lips mashed together as they grappled, tearing at one another’s clothing in a desperate quest for bare skin. The rusty taste of blood flooded her mouth. She’d bitten her own lip in her hunger for him. His flavour was spicy with a burnt edge, like an autumn breeze. His brazen tongue mirrored the frantic dance of his hands on her flesh.

She wormed her hands into his trousers so she could grip the smooth, solid curve of his buttocks. The muscles tightened and shifted under her palms as he ground his hardness against her. Her shorts hung loose on her hips. He dragged them down to her knees and plunged his fingers into her drenched cunt, smothering her moan of delight with another fierce kiss.

Want to win a copy of Rough Weather? 
Just leave me a comment with your email!


Friday, September 2, 2016

Sneak Peek: Water Bearer by Wendi Christner (#giveaway #sneakpeek #romance @WendiDarlin)


Water Bearer cover

In a small Southern community, inseparable lifelong friends prepare to follow their own paths, but one last summer together changes their lives forever.

Excerpt

Seven years after Cassidy Strumond set the fire that consumed her parents, the scent of ash still lingered in the newly sprouted corn and in the wide blades of grass that blanketed the rolling hills; only, nobody seemed to smell it but her.

Cassidy rolled her high school diploma over the worn floor planks of her grandmother’s back porch and watched Jared Walker’s horse, Delilah, clomp across the stone footbridge that spanned a stream separating her family farm from his.

The arms of a young man who worked outside and handled livestock for a living extended from the sleeves of a t-shirt that looked like he’d slept in it. His pointed boots stuck out from the frayed legs of his jeans, and the outline of his thighs pressed against the easy fitting denim. Details she had only recently begun to notice. He looped Delilah’s reins around the porch railing and lowered himself onto the steps.

“Is that what you wore under your graduation gown?” She knew the answer before his lopsided smile betrayed him.

“Figured if I was gonna wear a dress, I’d better look like a man underneath. What’d you wear under yours, a suitcase?”

“Nothing.” She eased the hem of her navy blue polyester gown up her bare calves and laughed as the implication registered on his features.

“You shameless liar.”

She took hold of the zipper at her throat. “Wanna find out?”

“There’s something bad wrong with you, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know.” Cassidy squinted at the branches of a massive oak in the middle of the pasture.

Beyond the oak, on the back acres of the property, were the ruins of her childhood home, reduced to a charred foundation and three concrete steps that led to an emptiness she could taste in her soul. From this rubble, the odor of her every nightmare emanated. As long as she stayed here, she would live with the smell of death.

One short summer and she could put this place and its constant reminders behind her.

About the Author

Wendi Christner is the author of Writer’s Digest Short-Short Story Competition winner “Throwing Stones,” a fairy self-help book, and several novels written under various pseudonyms. Her gritty, emotional stories tend to have a Southern voice born of her roots in the Florida panhandle. She currently lives in Tampa with her husband, son, and their fur family.

Twitter/Instagram @WendiDarlin



Wendi will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.



a Rafflecopter giveaway