Monday, April 21, 2014

Spring Fling Blog Hop and Charity Parkerson!


Welcome to the Spring Fling Blog Hop! Over fifty authors and bloggers have joined together to bring you some amazing posts, great giveaways and lots of fun! Don't forget to enter the rafflecopter to win a Kindle tablet, gift cards, paperbacks and swag and be sure to check out the other blogs taking part.  Read the first chapter of my next book, and tell me what you think in the comment section below and get entered to win a copy of My Mistake.  This is going to stay top post all week, but scroll down, because I'm posting my book reviews and spotlights each day, too.


But before you take off to check out the other blogs, feel free to take a little look at the next Story of Serendipity, Wrecked, set to come out in June, 2014.  Here's the first chapter for you to check out!

     Renae’s heart was broken.  Kelly was officially installed in her dorm room, groceries purchased (yogurt cups, lunch meat and juice boxes) for her mini-fridge, and neon purple decorations abounded.  Her buddy was gone.  Two hours away.  Renae drove back to Serendipity, feeling indescribably lonely.  She tried to focus on the road and increasingly familiar landmarks as she got closer to home, but her mind was wandering back to memories of her daughter: her mess, her noise, her complaints.
     It had been Kelly and Renae for sixteen years, and now, Kelly had gone off to college, as it should be.  Renae had raised her daughter to be independent, make her own choices, and survive on her own.  Now that it had happened, Renae felt lost.  It seemed like only yesterday, she’d given birth to the tiny baby, and two years later, she’d promised that baby they would conquer the world together.
     That was why she didn’t immediately see the motorcycle.  She was waiting to turn after the railroad tracks, and had been trying to see over the truck with enormous mudding wheels on her left, blinker on, when some reptilian part of her brain decided it was clear and her foot lifted off the brake pedal.
     As she gently pushed on the gas, focusing on turning into the correct lane, a sickening crunch sounded and she saw a man crash over the hood of her mini-van, to land in the ditch on the side of her car.
     “Oh no…”  Heart thudding in her chest, the sense of dread in her limbs paralyzed her as she forced her hand to unlatch her door and walk around to where the man lay on his back.  He was long and lanky, but still muscular.  The frighteningly still body held a silent strength, and she said a quick prayer she hadn’t killed the man.  On her knees next to him, Renae was afraid to touch him.  She looked around, to see the giant truck had gone, leaving her there alone to fix this man. 
     “Sir?”  Her hand stroked his chest, hoping the touch would revive him.  She prayed he would sit up and declare himself fit, hop back on his motorcycle and drive off.  A-OK.  “Sir?”  She said it again.
     His motorcycle helmet was black.  And shiny.  She hated to put fingerprints on it, trying to see his face, and she didn’t dare try to remove it.  He might have a spinal injury or something.  So she tried to raise the visor on it, leaving fingerprint smudges on the reflective fiber-glass. 
     His eyes were closed, framed by long, light brown eye-lashes.
     “Sir?”  She reached in and stroked his cheek.  Smooth skin, with a coating of rough stubble, and a slack-jaw.  His skin was warm though, and sent a small tremor up her arm as her fingers lightly trailed down his face.  But he didn’t respond.  “Oh no…”  She’d killed him.  Leaning back on her heels, Renae touched his shoulder, shaking him gently.  Nothing.
     Renae leaned over the man, resting her ear on his chest, noticing how firm the muscles were there, as she tried to look up at his face under the helmet.  She couldn’t hear anything over the sound of her own heartbeat, so she crawled closer, straddling his slim hips, hands on his biceps, keeping her head on his chest.       His body was hot, pressed against hers, and a shiver of awareness coursed through Renae.  She tried to concentrate on listening for his heartbeat, but her own blood rushed so loudly in her ears.
     Finally, she did notice a rise and fall of his chest, so she knew he was breathing, and if he was breathing, his heart had to be pumping, right?  She could see his long neck reaching into the helmet, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow.  His hips rose suggestively, and Renae was shocked to feel a riotous heat in her crotch.  She sat up and looked at the man, whose eyes were open wide, dark mocha orbs staring at her with disbelief.
     Suddenly, Renae was being shoved off the man, by hands she didn’t see.  The man sat up, ripping off his helmet, dropping it to the ground. 
     “What the fuck!?”
     Speechless, she could only stare as dark eyes mesmerized her, settling on Renae.  “Did you hit me?”
     She nodded, gulping down embarrassment.  “I’m sorry…I—“  Renae wasn’t sure what she was sorry about, her intimacy with an unconscious stranger, or making him unconscious in the first place.
     “You weren’t texting were you?”  His anger was palpable, and Renae couldn’t blame him.  He could have been killed.  Strong, thick hands fisted at his sides.
     She shook her head slowly, seeing him for the first time.  He was gorgeous, and suddenly all words in her defense completely left her.  If she had killed this guy, women the world over would hate her forever.  
     His short dark hair stuck up wildly with sweat, helmet head, she supposed, but it was sexy.  There were slight streaks of silver at his temples, shining in the sunlight.  His face was rugged, in a weathered, sun-kissed way, a nose that had been broken, with a scar running down his left temple.  But it was an undeniably handsome face with chiseled features and impossibly blue eyes.  His jeans had been ripped in the wreck, and Renae tried not to stare at the top of his thigh that peaked through the mangled denim.
     “Are you okay?”  She managed to squeak out, feeling terrible about everything.
     “Where’s my bike?”
     Renae looked around, not having a clue.  She’d never even thought about the bike, as concerned as she had been about the man.  Eventually, she went back to the other side of her minivan and found it laying on its side.  She bent down, grabbing the handle bars, and heaved, unable to budge the metal.
     “I got it,” he growled behind her.  He reached down and righted the machine, straddling it.  His helmet dangled from his hand before he crammed it back on his head.
     “Wait…” She turned to the minivan and rummaged around in her purse, spilling the contents into the floorboard until she found what she was looking for.  Holding out her insurance card, she said, “Here.  If you need anything done, I should be covered.  All the information is here….I’ve got another copy at home.”  She felt completely inadequate in this situation.  He seemed angry at her, and she couldn’t blame him.  His body language radiated irritation, from the squared set of his shoulders to the grip on the handlebars, to his tense thigh muscle peeking out through his torn jeans.  And his face…She swallowed disappointment that the stern set of his mouth and the crinkled brow was annoyance with her stupidity.  Renae felt undeniably guilty for not paying enough attention, for hitting him.  If he was hurt, she’d die.  And she didn’t even know him.
     Without a word, his hand slowly reached for the card, clasping it in his fingers.  He didn’t look at it, as he slipped inside his coat pocket before turning back to his bike.
     Renae stifled the overwhelming surge of hormones that rushed through her body.  Every cell inside her wanted to straddle the motorcycle behind him, and hang on to his rippling torso.  She exhaled sharply, as he jumped twice before starting the roaring motorcycle.
     “Are you okay?”  She had to yell to be heard over the engine.
     The man didn’t respond, just looked at her with those blue eyes, snapped down his visor, and with a roar, continued down the road she’d been turning onto an eon ago.
     Renae heaved a sigh, relieved she hadn’t killed him, yet disappointed somehow, and got into her van to continue home.  Alone.


If you've read the first chapter, feel free to leave a comment below telling me what you think about it, and you will be entered to win a copy of My Mistake, the latest in the Stories of Serendipity.  Thanks for stopping by, and don't forget to enter the rafflecopter giveaway!



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TITLE – Unsurpassed
 

SERIES – No Rival
 

AUTHOR – Charity Parkerson
 

GENRE – Erotica
 

PUBLICATION DATE – 04/16/2014
 

LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 100/ 30,000
 

PUBLISHER Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc.
 

COVER ARTIST – Publisher

 

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Book Blurb/Synopsis –
Book 1 in the No Rival series

Aubree is infatuated with two men, Max and Ryan. The two former Marines have been her close friends ever since she made her first misguided attempt at joining their kickboxing classes. When the pair invites her to join them at a weekend party thrown by Drew, a famous MMA champion, she has no idea what they have in mind. After spending one hot ménage night with the pair, Aubree learns the men’s intentions are not all about her. Feeling betrayed, Aubree turns to Drew who is also tugging at her heart. She must choose between the two men who have been the center of her fantasies, and the one man who could make all her dreams come true.

 



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Inside Scoop: This sexy tale includes a ménage and male/male encounters that may leave you wishing for an alpha male fighter of your own.

A Romantica contemporary erotic romance from Ellora's Cave Publishing

 



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TOUR-EXCERPT



Leaning against the cool wood of the hotel room door, she met his stare trying hard not to smile like an idiot.

“This was fun.”

Drew’s eyes flashed. “If you ask nicely, I’ll let you take me to bed.”

She shook her head at his antics. “What if I’m not feeling especially nice?”

Drew brushed his hand over her hip. “You’re right. You do feel naughty,” he agreed. Holding her stare, he bent closer, giving her time to protest his advance. The door opened at Aubree’s back. If she hadn’t hit the solid wall of Max’s chest, she might have ended up sprawled across the floor. Tilting back her head, she took note of the angry expression on Max’s face before switching her gaze back to Drew. His eyes danced with humor as he mouthed, “Denied,” and Aubree slapped her hand over her mouth to smother her giggles.

“Have a nice night, Drew.” Drew ignored Max’s snarling words.

“May I see you again?”

“I’d like that,” she answered without hesitation. Max growled. At the sound, Drew flashed him a cocky grin before giving her a wicked version of it and turning away. As soon as he moved out of the doorway, Max slammed it closed, focusing his ire on her. She’d never seen him truly angry before now. She laughed nervously.

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” she answered, incredulous. “I’ve had two glasses of champagne all night.”

“Your face is flushed.”

Aubree shrugged. “I’m happy. I had a good time.”

Max prowled toward her. The hard set of his jaw caused a flutter of desire to run through her. “Did you forget who you came here with?”

Unable to think of a single retort, she shrugged again. “I’m young and single. Why shouldn’t I enjoy myself?”

Max’s eyes flashed dangerously. His tone had a bite to it when he spoke. “You are not single.”








Charity Parkeron Author pic 1

Charity Parkerson is an award winning and multi-published author with Ellora's Cave Publishing. Born with no filter from her brain to her mouth, she decided to take this odd quirk and insert it in her characters.
*2013 Readers' Favorite Award Winner
*2013 Reviewers' Choice Award Winner
*ARRA Finalist for Favorite Paranormal Romance
*Five-time winner of The Mistress of the Darkpath
*Named one of the top 10 best books by an Indie author in 2011- Paranormal Reads Reviews
*Best Paranormal Romance of 2012- Paranormal Reads Reviews




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Giveaway


GIVEAWAY PRIZES

A “No Rival” t-shirt and a pack of Ellora’s Cave “Alpha Male” playing cards

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Okay, if you're remotely interested in plays, this is really good.  Zack released this a couple of weeks ago with the caveat, it's a PG Screenplay.  I think he might have been nervous, going so against the norm, but there's absolutely no need.  This was wonderful story about what all love can overcome.

And then there was the interaction...Melinda's reactions to Rodney's bipolarness was spot on.  Mr. Love's depiction of Rodney's bipolarness was scarily accurate.  In fact, I was reading the scene in the library, the same exact day a nearly identical thing had happened to me with a loved one.  It gave me chills.  I ought to give it five stars just for that, but nope.  I'm giving it five stars because of the Prophet, the voice of reason in the play:  :  “And
today is really the happiest day of your life, because today
you woke up and stumbled across the shadow of your soul
in broad daylight.”

For such a short work, the characters were exceptionally drawn out, the setting was as always, superb, and the action (which usually has problems in screenplays) was on pace.  Kudos, Mr. Love. 

Friday, April 18, 2014

Precious Consequences


Synopsis
All it took was one night to change the rest of my life.

One night that created irrevocable consequences.

But some consequences aren’t all bad.

They can be amazing…beautiful… Precious.

I willingly accepted those consequences and wrote a new plan for my life. But that plan didn’t include Cameron Argent – the sexy-as-sin tattooed playboy who got under my skin the moment I laid eyes on him. I was headed down a dark and dangerous road where he was concerned and in the end, our relationship was inevitable. Despite our dark secrets, our feelings for each other burned brighter than a thousand stars and left us both naked, vulnerable.

But when my past came rolling back into my life like a Summer storm, I wasn’t sure if his love for me was enough.
Was he prepared to deal with the consequences of a past I couldn’t regret or would he walk away with my beating heart in his hands?


(This is a New Adult Contemporary Romance novel & contains language & adult situations. Not recommended for readers younger than 17)


Chapter #1
~ Hayley ~
“Hayley, sweetheart, you’re going to be late!” my grandmother calls up
the stairs. Of course, I know this, but try explaining the concept of time to a
two year old. Ari wriggles in my grasp, trying to crawl away from me while I
pull a little pink sundress over her head.
“Just a sec, Gama,” I shout back. “Ari’s being difficult.”
I smile down at my daughter’s face and her answering giggle makes my
heart flip. “What’s so funny, monkey pants?” I ask teasingly. “You like giving
me a hard time, don’t you?” Her brown eyes brighten at the sound of my voice
and she giggles again, waving her little fingers in the air. Until five minutes
ago, I was nervous about today, but somehow Ari and her silliness have managed
to ease my anxiety. It’s the first day I’ll be without her since she was born
and as much as I’m dreading it, I know it’s time for me to restart the future I
put on hold when I found out I was pregnant. Most girls my age would’ve given
their baby up for adoption, knowing they’re not ready to be a mother at the
tender age of seventeen. But I’m not one of those girls. Despite the
circumstances surrounding the untimely conception of my daughter, I made the
choice to live with the consequences of my actions and refused to regret a
single moment of my life. Looking at the little face that so closely resembles mine;
I find it impossible to wish that my situation was any different.
“Okay, Princess Ari,” I say, slipping a pair of soft, white shoes onto
Ari’s feet. “Let’s get going before mommy’s late for school.” I stand up,
lifting Ari onto my hip and grab her bag. I make sure she has everything she’ll
need before heading downstairs and into the kitchen.
“There are my beautiful girls,” my grandmother chimes. She smiles at us
and her eyes wrinkle at the sides. If I didn’t know any better I’d think she
was a normal old lady, but underneath that facade is whole lot of batshit
crazy. Not that I mind. My grandmother has been my rock, my best friend and the
only support I’ve had over the last two years. Without her, I have no idea
where Ari and I would be.
“Are you ready for your first day of daycare, Arianna?” my grandmother
coos. She closes the distance between us, reaching for Ari, and I let her go.
“Gama,” Ari squeals delightfully. She mumbles something incoherently and I
stifle a laugh when my grandmother responds as if they’re having a normal
conversation. I leave the kitchen to grab my school bag, stopping in the
hallway when I see a framed picture of my parents hanging on the wall. My
father looks younger, happier, and my mother has the same sour expression on
her face that I got used to seeing. Part of me misses them, but I push those
feelings away quicker than they surface. They have no place in my life,
especially after how I left things when I moved away in my senior year of high
school. I shake my head, as if it will clear the past from my mind, and take my
school bag from the bottom of the stairs. It’s my first day of college but I’m
more nervous about Ari’s first day of daycare.
“Hayley Tanner, if you don’t hurry your ass up, you’re going to be late
for school,” my grandmother chides behind me. Ari slips past her and comes
running down the hallway, jumping straight into my arms.
“Huwwy youw ass up, momma.” she says.
“Arianna, don’t say ‘ass’,” I reply sternly, giving my grandmother a
look. If we’re not careful, Ari repeats everything we say, including the
occasional cuss word my grandmother lets slip when she’s mad.
“Sowwy momma.” Ari ducks her head into my shoulder. I kiss her head of
brown curls and inhale her sweet scent. It’s one of the most comforting things
about this little miracle, the way she smells and the way she fits into my arms
so perfectly. We say goodbye to my grandmother and as soon as I start the quick
drive to Ari’s new daycare center, she starts singing in the backseat. I watch
her in the mirror as her little voice fills the car. Her happiness is
infectious, and when her face lights up with hope and love, it’s easy to forget
how she got here. But I will never forget. It’s a night that changed my life
forever and a night I’m not sure I can bring myself to regret…

~ 2 years ago,
December 2011, Senior year ~
I walk into the palatial mansion and immediately
feel out of place. There are people filling every open area I can see. Some
stand around talking, their blue cups filled with cheap beer, while others
gyrate against each other to the rhythm of the music. I can feel the vibration
of the music in my chest as it travels through the crowd in waves. I shouldn’t
be here, and my mind won’t stop telling me to leave. But I can’t. I push my way
through the mob of hot, sweaty bodies until I’m standing in the living room.
Heads bob up and down as a new, faster song starts to play through the
speakers. Looking around, I notice how the guys in the room eye my body with
appreciation, no doubt after hearing the rumors that have surfaced at school.
The girls on the other hand look at me with disgust, muttering the word ‘slut’
and ‘whore’ under their breaths. They’re half right. But I don’t owe them an
explanation for my lewd behavior. I don’t owe
anyone anything
really; least of all insight into my sad, black hole of a life. I’m about to make
my way back towards the front door, with every intention of leaving, when a
familiar voice stops me.
“You came,” he says
behind me. I turn around and come face-to-face with Kyle Henderson. The
playboy. The football captain. And the boy I’ve been crushing on since I was
twelve. He’s only a year older than I am, but his chiseled jaw, high cheekbones
and light blonde stubble make him look far more mature than any other boy his
age. And I use the term ‘boy’ loosely; referring only to the parts of him that,
in fact, make him a boy. Kyle is a man, albeit a walking cliché with his
perfect blonde hair, Adonis-like physique and roguish charm. He’s also trouble.
And I happen to be in the mood for trouble.
“You asked me to,” I
reply. A strange feeling washes over me, resembling something close to shyness.
It’s unfamiliar. I don’t do shy, least of all with guys. But Kyle makes me feel
it, however unwelcome it is.
“Funny,” he says. “I
didn’t peg you for someone who does what she’s told, Hayls.” His lips curve
into a smirk and it’s easy to see why the girls at school fall over themselves
when they’re in his presence. His confident persona is disarming. I lift my
chin, hoping that he can’t see the cracks in my superficial confidence. “I
don’t.”
Taking a step closer,
he stares into my eyes. “I’m glad you came,” he says. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Anything but beer.”
He chuckles. “Wait
here. I’ll be right back.”
I nod. When he
disappears into the swell of people, I feel eyes burning a hole in the side of
my head. I turn slightly, only to catch Kimber Allen glaring at me. I can’t
help the smile that slips onto my face. I know she was watching my exchange
with Kyle and judging by her expression, she isn’t happy about it. Good. Maybe
now she’ll shut those botox lips of hers and stop spreading rumors about me. Or
just stop spreading the false ones, at least. It’s no secret that she hates me,
or that she has made the most of my self-destructive behavior and used it to
her benefit. But I can’t blame her. I’ve brought all of it on myself,
willingly, in an attempt to ease the numbness that has consumed me and
feel something, even if it’s just physical.
I look away just in
time to see Kyle walking back towards me, drink in hand. My eyes travel the
length of him. His blue polo shirt fits him well and shows off some of his best
assets. Broad shoulders, defined chest, strong arms. The designer jeans he’s
wearing hugs his legs and I’m sure if he had to turn around, it would show off
another one of his ass-ets. I snicker at my inside joke.
“What’s so funny?” he
asks, amused. Realizing he heard me makes me blush, but I manage to keep it
cool. “Your ex-girlfriend.” I reply, taking the blue cup from his grasp. I
bring it up to my lips, tasting the harsh liquid and feeling it burn all the
way down my throat. It’s disgusting. But after the third or fourth cup I won’t
taste it anymore.
Kyle frowns. “I
didn’t even know Kimber was here,” he lies easily. Of course he knows. Kimber
would have made sure of it.
I shrug. Bringing my
cup back to my lips, I watch Kyle over the rim as I take another gulp, and
another, until it’s finished. Kyle’s eyes never leave mine and when he licks
his lips I have to stop myself from mimicking him.
“You want another
one?” he asks, taking our empty cups and placing them on a nearby table.
Instead of answering, I step closer, liquid courage coursing through my veins,
and take his hand.
“Dance with me,” I
say softly. His hand tightens around mine and he leads us onto the makeshift
dance floor in the middle of the giant living room. Eyes fall on us and I
tense. The attention I’m used to getting is usually the kind that takes place
behind closed doors, or in the backseat of a car, not in public. I feel Kyle’s
chest pressed firmly against my back.
“Relax,” he breathes
against my neck. “Let go.”
His hands rest on my
hips and the way his fingertips press into my skin makes me shiver. Our bodies
start moving, our hips bumping and grinding to the beat of the music. I push my
ass into Kyle’s crotch and rub it back and forth over his growing hard on. He
sucks in a breath, and I stifle a moan. This is what I want. I crave the
physical connection like lungs crave air. One song bleeds into another and we
keep dancing until the room gets hot and my skin is damp. Brushing my dark hair
to the side, Kyle lowers his head until his lips brush against my ear.
“Let’s go upstairs,”
he whispers. My head is swimming, from both, the alcohol I’ve had and my need
to get lost in this carnal connection.
“I want you, Hayley,” he breathes into my ear. “I’ve wanted you for so
long.”
I turn around to face
him. His eyes are dark, determined. I’m fairly certain he just said that to get
into my pants but I can’t judge him for that. I’m planning on using him for the
same thing. “Okay,” I say. I ignore the pang in my chest. I always feel that
way
before.
Kyle grabs my hand
and starts pulling me through the mass of people, which seems to have doubled
since I arrived. The clock on the wall reads 11pm but I doubt the party will
abate any time soon. Guys stop to talk to Kyle but he brushes them off, the
same way he does to the girls who throw themselves at him. He leads me up the
marble staircase and only lets my hand go when we reach his bedroom door. He
ushers me into his room, his hand on the small of my back, and closes the door.
With every step he takes towards me I feel the sexual tension intensify. For a
brief second Kyle hesitates, and I can see the indecision in his eyes and on
his face. He seems to recover from whatever conflict he felt a second ago
because he closes the gap between us in one stride. The silence between us
stretches and I think we both know words are not necessary. Talking would only
make it awkward, forcing us to pretend that this is more than a simple
exchange. He only asked me to come to this party for one reason, why make it
something it isn’t? 
He swallows, leaning
down until his soft lips brush against mine. His tongue leaves a blazing trail
on my bottom lip and I open up, welcoming him. Our lips move against each
other, our tongues twisting as we taste each other. I taste the beer on his
breath but the anticipation of feeling with only my body overshadows it. His
hands grab my hips roughly as he pushes me onto his bed. He climbs over me, his
lips crashing into mine again. I claw at his clothes, our hands removing every
piece of fabric, every barrier, until we’re both naked. Like all the times
before this, I push all emotions away, focusing on nothing but the physical.
“Fuck,” Kyle breathes
harshly. “I don’t think I have a condom.”
I think about it for
a minute. I’ve never had sex without one but I’ve often wondered what it felt
like. I’m on the pill, so we should be fine. A voice pops up in my head telling
me what a bad idea this is but I reason with it, arguing that, with graduation
around the corner, this gets to be one last hooray. After tonight, I will get
to start over and pretend that the last year of my life hasn’t been filled with
parties and meaningless sex. I never have to see Kyle or anyone else from this
wretched, soul sucking place ever again. So why not go out with a
bang. Literally.
“It’s okay,” I say.
“We’re good.”
“But I’ve never gone
without one,” he contends.
I look him in the
eye. “Neither have I. But I’m on the pill, so we’re good.”
 He settles between my legs and I feel the tip
of his cock tease my entrance. “Tell me you want this,” Kyle breathes heavily
with gritted teeth. “Tell me you want me to do this to you.”
“Yes,” I breathe. I
bite my lip and close my eyes when I feel him push in. I wrap my legs around
him and he lowers himself onto me. I welcome the weighty feeling, and the
fullness. Kyle doesn’t look at me as he thrusts deeper and deeper. He tucks his
face into my neck and I find that I don’t mind it. This is all I wanted. It
helps me forget about the parents who don’t love me and only use me as a pawn
when they see fit. I can’t even say I’m a trophy daughter anymore, because I
made sure to ruin that image good and proper. Maybe I am a slut, or a whore,
but when it’s nothing but my body connecting with another, everything else
fades away. I’ve managed to replace emotional things like affection and love
with the feeling of sexual and physical gratification. It’s fucked up. But it
works for me.
Kyle quickens his
pace, his hot breath fanning the inside of my neck. His muscles tense and I
know he’s close. Lifting his weight slightly, I take the chance to slip my hand
between our bodies and start rubbing my clit. The quicker Kyle moves his hips,
the quicker my hand moves, and it’s not long before we both moan our release. 
“Fuck, Hayley,” Kyle
sighs, rolling off me and catching his breath. “I wasn’t expecting it to be
so…”
“Good?” I finish for
him. “What? You didn’t ask your buddies how it is before you invited me here?”
I sit up quickly and grab the nearest item of clothing to cover myself up.
His brows furrow.
“No, Hayls. Do you think that’s why I invited you? So that I could just have
sex with you?”
“Yes.” I reply
honestly. Kyle looks away from me and I know I’ve caught him.
“Look, Hayley, I -” I
put my hand up, interrupting him mid-sentence.
“Don’t, Kyle. I know
the drill. I used you just as much as you used me and now it’s over.”
I jump off the bed
and start gathering my clothes. Kyle doesn’t move from the bed while I dress,
but when I look up again he’s standing in front of me, wearing only his jeans.
“Hayley, wait.” he
pleads. His expression is one of guilt. But guilt over what exactly? Having sex
with me or admitting that it’s all he wanted me for?
I see another emotion
flit across his features but it’s gone before I can determine what it is. Our
eyes meet for the last time and I do something I’ve never done with anyone else
before. I touch his cheek. And then his lips. “Goodbye, Kyle.” I whisper. I’m
not sure why I say it, or why I touch his face that way, but for the first time
ever I feel something else, something new.
Regret. 
Horns break through the memory and I jump in my seat. The traffic light
in front of me is green but I was too distracted to notice. I ease forward into
the traffic, ignoring the swearwords being thrown in my direction by other
drivers.  I check my rearview mirror
again, to make sure Ari is okay, and find her staring out the window, still
singing her song. I’m silently grateful that the only reminder I have of her
father is her brown eyes and that her dark curls and fair skin come from me.
Not that it would’ve mattered. The day she was born I knew I would love her
forever, regardless of who she looks like.
I stop in the small parking lot outside the daycare center and take a
deep breath to steel my nerves. I
don’t want Ari to see how terrified I am. I want her to see that I’m brave,
even if that’s the last thing I feel. I climb out and open Ari’s door. She
looks up at me and smiles, all her new teeth on full display. “You ready to
make some new friends, monkey?” I ask her while unbuckling her car seat.
Her eyes widen, filling with excitement and curiosity. “Yes mommy!
You’re a monkey!” she squeals, giggling.
I let out a little laugh. “Oh, really? If I’m a monkey, then what are
you?”
Her little eyebrows scrunch before she answers. “I’m a princess,” she
proclaims. I take her bag from the back seat and pull her onto my hip.
“Yes,” I reply softly, placing a kiss on her forehead. “You’re my
little princess.”

Buy Links



About the Author

I'm 21 years old & the ultimate Book Brat :) Coffee & Books are my drugs of choice, neither of which will be kicked to the curb any time soon! I go through a book a day & when I'm not reading I'm working on my debut novel, Beneath Your Beautiful :)I'm a sucker for New Adult Contemporary Romance with a whole lot of sexy thrown in & my number one rule is I won't read a book unless it has a happy ending! I also have the unhealthiest obsession with the South,and I don't mean my home country of South Africa - I mean cowboys, pick up trucks, sexy as sin Southern accents, cowboy boots and barefoot bluejean nights! One day, I will live in Alabama & I will have my own Indie publishing house - my philosophy is if your dreams don't scare you they're not big enough :)

website

Goodreads 
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6965463.Tamsyn_Bester

Facebook Page
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tamsyn-Bester/635202666493424

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Thursday, April 17, 2014

The Good Girl review


I know, this post looks a lot like yesterday's post, but I've got a review in here for you today~





**Please note: this book is rated MA for Adult Situations and the occasional curse word 




When Willow Stone discovers that she is in competition with the exotic and worldly Molina for the coveted position of sex advice columnist, she realizes it's time to up her game. Though she has impeccable writing skills, there's no denying that a lifetime of being the good girl has left her ill prepared for this position. Realizing it's her lack of experience that will keep her from achieving this dream, she decides to proposition the bad boy who once lived in her college dorm that always had a stream of women doing the walk of shame from his room on a nearly nightly basis. Surely someone that shallow, that experienced, and that wildly attractive could teach her a thing or twenty. 


Only Wyatt has his own plans, and they don't allow much time for teaching Willow what she would already know if she could just break free of the cool, calculating, proper demeanor that was part of being a Stone. His reputation has served him well through the years and being the black sheep of his family has never bothered him. What does bother him, however, is Willow. She is a mystery to unravel, a present to be cherished, a young woman who just might rock his world by bringing him back into his family's fold. She was everything they wanted for him and precisely what he had avoided since he started dating. 

What will happen when the good girl gets mixed up with the bad boy?



My Review:

Okay, I've said it on here before, Young Adult Romance is not my thing.  I read it, and sometimes I like it, but I don't like to be reminded of my own inadequacies as a Young Adult and the fact that the most designer pair of shoes I owned were Doc Martins, and I have an unreasonable fear of flying which kept my trips to Europe at a minimum (read: zero).

With that said, I LOVED The Good Girl.  The way to hook me with YA is a quirky premise, and this one had it.  A Top Fifty Sexual Bucket List?  Count me in.

The dialogue was good, characters well-developed, and the conflicts were realistically developed.  Wyatt was a total dish (I love bartenders who drive motorcycles), and I could totally relate to Willow's lack of experience with pleasurable sex at that age.  This is a well-written story that flows smoothly, and kept me wanting more.

*spoiler alert*  The things that I didn't find awesome were all toward the end...I felt like the ending wasn't developed enough, especially the stuff with Jacqueline, and her acquiescence with Willow.  This seemed a little choppy to me, but the jet-setting at the end, while predictable, was well-done.  I also felt like the conflict with Molina was resolved too easily/fast.

Other than those few things, this was a book I could not put down.  I read it in one afternoon/evening, and it was a much needed break from my real life, which is the purpose of reading romance.















What made her decide to be an erotica author?

Simple.

How else was she going to parlay her two favorite past times into a career?

Emma is single and loving it. Like her first character, Alysin, Sin for short, she doesn't believe in settling or in settling down. She loves to indulge in her passions whenever the mood strikes and enjoys keeping all of life's cliche moments spicy.

Known for her sense of humor, Emma surrounds herself with friends whose antics often become the source of book fodder. Her ideal situation would be to explore the Caribbean while writing. She pursues that dream daily.



Enter the Contest

Anyone can offer a giveaway.  Emma…is making you work for it.

10 Winners will received signed copies of The Good Girl

but first…

You've read the book.  You're familiar with the list.

Now share a story of one of your sexcapades from

The Sexual Bucket List.

send your entry to:

emmanicholserotica@gmail.com

Subject: The List Contest


Winners will be notified by email.

Contest is open until May 30, 2014



Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Now The Good Girl, For Real.


Okay, today's actually the day I'm supposed to post this, so ...*drum rolls* And I'm sooo gonna enter the contest at the end.




**Please note: this book is rated MA for Adult Situations and the occasional curse word 





When Willow Stone discovers that she is in competition with the exotic and worldly Molina for the coveted position of sex advice columnist, she realizes it's time to up her game. Though she has impeccable writing skills, there's no denying that a lifetime of being the good girl has left her ill prepared for this position. Realizing it's her lack of experience that will keep her from achieving this dream, she decides to proposition the bad boy who once lived in her college dorm that always had a stream of women doing the walk of shame from his room on a nearly nightly basis. Surely someone that shallow, that experienced, and that wildly attractive could teach her a thing or twenty. 

Only Wyatt has his own plans, and they don't allow much time for teaching Willow what she would already know if she could just break free of the cool, calculating, proper demeanor that was part of being a Stone. His reputation has served him well through the years and being the black sheep of his family has never bothered him. What does bother him, however, is Willow. She is a mystery to unravel, a present to be cherished, a young woman who just might rock his world by bringing him back into his family's fold. She was everything they wanted for him and precisely what he had avoided since he started dating. 

What will happen when the good girl gets mixed up with the bad boy?










The Good Girl Playlist






What made her decide to be an erotica author?

Simple.

How else was she going to parlay her two favorite past times into a career?

Emma is single and loving it. Like her first character, Alysin, Sin for short, she doesn't believe in settling or in settling down. She loves to indulge in her passions whenever the mood strikes and enjoys keeping all of life's cliche moments spicy.

Known for her sense of humor, Emma surrounds herself with friends whose antics often become the source of book fodder. Her ideal situation would be to explore the Caribbean while writing. She pursues that dream daily.



Enter the Contest

Anyone can offer a giveaway.  Emma…is making you work for it.

10 Winners will received signed copies of The Good Girl

but first…

You've read the book.  You're familiar with the list.

Now share a story of one of your sexcapades from

The Sexual Bucket List.

send your entry to:


Subject: The List Contest


Winners will be notified by email.

Contest is open until May 30, 2014