New Release - To Be His - by C.R. Moss

Always happy to have C. R. Moss on my blog. She's a wonderful author and fellow artist, and she's here today with her new release a contemporary erotic romance, with paranormal elements.

Thank you for having me on your blog! I’m happy to share with you and your readers my latest release.

First is some information about the series and the book…

About the Series

Nestled within the hills of central Texas is a special ranch. A place that defies the laws of physics—that of time, space, and dimensions. It’s a place where normal morphs with the paranormal and supernatural. A place that seems to know what a person’s true desires and needs are, and then allows the right circumstances to occur to fulfill those wishes.

Welcome to the Gateway Ranch.

Your gateway to all things possible…

To Be His by C.R. Moss

I’m Professor Arianna Perez, and I’ve been asked if I’ll ever trust, let alone love, another man again. After dumping an abusive boyfriend, I doubted I would. At least, that’s how I felt until fate had sexy wrangler, Gavin Bishop, reappearing in my life in a way I never expected.

Against my better judgement, I fell hard for the cowboy, believing everything he said, including how he wanted to treat me like a queen and keep me safe. Little did I know, though, that the circumstances that brought us together could also tear us apart…

And possibly claim my life.

Now a peek into the story…

Excerpt for To Be His by C.R. Moss

“Phone call? Mind telling me exactly what’s gone on?”

I put down the peas, filled him in on the call, how Chad had found me in the hall, and what we’d discussed. “I don’t know what he meant about you ruining his business. How can a wrangler ruin a hotel concierge? I don’t even know how he knew I’d started seeing you.”

Gavin shrugged. “Got me.”

“I’m so glad you showed up when you did.”

“So am I.” He put his arm around me and gave my shoulders a squeeze. “I’m serious when I’d said that I’ll do what’s in my power to keep you safe.”

“I appreciate that.”

His face drew near to mine as if leaning in for a kiss. Anticipation coiled within me. But then he tilted his head and planted his lips on my forehead. Disappointment shoved the eagerness aside.

He stood. “I should get going. Let you rest.”

I didn’t like the pit forming in my stomach with the thought of him leaving and me being alone. It almost felt like I was being abandoned. Reaching out, I grasped his hand. “Don’t go. I’d like you to stay. That is, if you don’t have somewhere you need to be.”

“Nope. The rest of my day and evening are open.”

“Good.” I yanked on his hand to bring him back down onto the couch, and I planted my lips on his.

Gavin kissed me in return, but all too soon he pulled away. “Ari, I’m not sure this is a good idea. I don’t want to be an emotional crutch, a rebound guy, or a tool in some kind of revenge maneuver. If we’re going to be together, I don’t want it to be in Chad’s shadow.”

Shifting and looking straight ahead, I sighed. “I understand, but really, I had…have…none of that in mind. My attraction to you is solely based on—” A knock at my front door interrupted my little speech. “Mierda. Talk about bad timing.”

“I’ll go see who it is and get rid of them, if you want?”

“Please.”

I watched him walk across the room into the small foyer and open the door, leaving the security screen door closed and locked. The voices were muffled until one boomed and seemed to project into the house.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you’re going to let me in now,” Chad yelled. “I want to see my girl. I want to see Arianna.” 

Buy To Be His by C.R. Moss here:

Universal Buy Link for To Be His ~ https://books2read.com/ToBeHis  

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Be-His-Gateway-Ranch-story-ebook/dp/B086KSV665

Print version ~ https://www.amazon.com/dp/0985459956

About the author…

An eccentric and eclectic writer, C.R. Moss pens stories for the mainstream and erotic romance markets, giving readers a choice of sweet, savory or spicy reads, usually within a sub-genre or two — paranormal, sci-fi/fantasy, time travel, or western flare. She also has a passion for penning dark fiction. Writing as Casey Moss, she delves into the darker aspects of life in her work, sometimes basing the stories on reality, sometimes on myth. No matter the path, her stories will take you on a journey from the lighthearted paranormal to dark things unspeakable. What waits around the corner? Come explore… www.caseymscorner.com

Author Links

Blog/Website – https://caseymscorner.com/

Twitter – https://twitter.com/CRMoss

Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/caseymscorner/

Amazon Author Page – https://www.amazon.com/C-R-Moss/e/B002DBE49W

More Gateway Ranch books can be found at: https://threeflamespublishing.com/series/

New Release - C.R. Moss - To Be Yours

Very glad to host the lovely C.R. Moss, who's a fellow artist and long-time friend, with her new release, To Be Yours.

 

~ Blurb ~

* Katrina Foster has survived a life no one dreams about and most don’t want to know about. Escaping to a ranch in Texas she used to visit during the summers of her childhood and rekindling an old relationship with Dakota Remington, she hopes to leave the nightmare of her past behind her. At first, all seems well, but when strange things begin to happen, she wonders if history’s about to repeat itself.
* Dakota Remington has devoted his life to working at Gateway Ranch. He’s excited when Kat, his former sweetheart, returns and looks forward to reuniting with her. He finds she’s changed, though, and he’s not sure if it’s for the better. But he’s up for the challenge of the puzzle that is Kat.

~ Excerpt ~

* The hard composite of her firearm shifted against her lower back.
* Well, if push comes to shove, I can protect myself. I’ll shoot the bastard if he shows up and tries anything.
* Eventually, her nerves calmed enough so she could move without feeling ill.
* She rose and stripped out of her clothes, put her weapon on the counter, then stepped into the shower. The hard and hot spray beat on her, helping her to feel something other than worry about potential rumors or her ex finding her. Kat bowed her head, placed her hands above the faucets. The water sluiced down her hair, cascaded in wide streams over her back. More time passed. Relaxed and clear headed, she finished her shower and was about to open the door when a thud and click sounded on the other side.
* Gripping the towel wrapped around her body, she snatched her weapon, opened the door, and cautiously looked out into the room.
* Dakota lounged on the bed, one leg bent, his hat propped on that leg’s knee. His hair stuck up in clumpy spikes. He ran a dirty hand through his dark brown locks.
* Kat released a pent-up breath, lowered her weapon, and placed the Glock on a counter next to the bathroom door. “How’d you get in here?”
* Tired eyes gazed at her. “I’m manager on duty while the Taggerts are away, ’member? Got a bunch of master keys.” Dak held up the ring of them. “You okay? When you didn’t come back, I got worried.”
* “I’m fine. I think the humidity got to me. Along with the dirt.”
* “Sure. The humidity. You tell me that you’re afraid a man is going to come after you, or rather us. We hear about the vehicle. You turn white as one of our ghosts and run off. Who was in the car, Kat?”
* “Hell if I know. I’ve been with you all day. I didn’t see the fancy black car or who was in it.”
* “You don’t have a clue as to who was in the car? I’m not buying it.”
* “Buy it or don’t.” She crossed her arms over her stomach. “I really don’t know. It could have been Nero. It could have been his goons. It could have been a neighbor of yours or one of the party guests Kent mentioned. I. Wasn’t. There. I. Didn’t. See.”
* Dakota flung himself off the bed and slammed the hat on his head. “Get dressed. You’ll come with me while I get cleaned up then we’ll go hang out in the rec hall.”
* “You know what, Dak? I appreciate the Boy Scout approach, and how you’re trying to get a merit badge for babysitting, but all I want is to lie down and take a nap.”
* “Kat, please. I’m hot, dirty, and tired. I don’t want to argue.” He strode to the door. “Get dressed so we can get going.” His gaze flashed darkly, roamed over her with an appraising glance. A slow grin tipped up the corner of his lips.

Buy Links: https://books2read.com/ToBeYours

~ About the Series ~

* Nestled within the hills of central Texas is a special ranch. A place that defies the laws of physics—that of time, space, and dimensions. It’s a place where normal morphs with the paranormal and supernatural. A place that seems to know what a person’s true desires and needs are, and then allows the right circumstances to occur to fulfill those wishes.
* Welcome to the Gateway Ranch.
* Your gateway to all things possible…

About the Author:

* An eccentric and eclectic writer, C.R. Moss pens stories for the mainstream and erotic romance markets, giving readers a choice of sweet, savory or spicy reads, usually within a sub-genre or two — paranormal, sci-fi/fantasy, time travel, or western flare. She also has a passion for penning dark fiction. Writing as Casey Moss, she delves into the darker aspects of life in her work, sometimes basing the stories on reality, sometimes on myth. No matter the path, her stories will take you on a journey from the lighthearted paranormal to dark things unspeakable. What waits around the corner? Come explore…

Find C.R. Moss here...
Amazon Author Page | Blog/Website | Instagram | Twitter | YouTube: Book Trailer | More Gateway Ranch books

OMG I saw the ghost of Bartholomew Addison Jenkins!!!

It was yesterday night, the night before Halloween, mind, a night dark and wet like a duck’s behind, and I was scheduling blog posts, a rather dull activity, in most cases, when I came across this title, which had been on my list for a while. The Chef and the Ghost of Bartholomew Addison Jenkins. Very pretty cover, remarkbly intriguing title. I started copying and pasting blurb, pictures, teaser. An evening like any other, in a blogger's life, I thought. 

"Hey," I said,aloud, to the cat, "Ever heard of a Bartholomew Addison Jenkins?"

And then someone coughed.

Nothing major, mind. There was no hint that someone might be having a sore throat. It was a quiet, polite cough, and yet every hair on the back of my neck stood on end and I went prickly all over. Holy smokes, I thought, what the hell? I turned around and, there right behind me stood a… man.

“Good evening,” he said, most politely.

“Um … good evening,” I said, and stared. At first I stared because this guy was standing on my precious Persian rug wearing heavy black shoes (with a silver buckle) which is heresy in this house. Then I went on staring because he was … how shall I put it … translucent? Slightly see-through? 

He was only a little taller than me, wearing a pair of knee knickers and a long, dark jacket.  The knickers were tight around his flat, hard belly, and his eyes were an extraordinary shade of light brown.  His hair, pulled back in a short ponytail, was a darker brown. His expression was at once thoughtful and merry.

“Er … excuse me, you would be…?”

“Bartholomew Addison Jenkins,” he said, bowing. “I prefer Bart.  I do keep up.” He extended a slightly transparent hand which I shook. His fingers were either very hot or very cold.  I couldn’t tell which.  It tickled a little to touch them.

“O-ok,” I said, giving a quick look to the screen of my computer to confirm it really was the same name as the cover of the book I had just pasted. It was! “I didn’t realize you did live interviews,” I said, by way of giving myself time to process this interesting turn of events. Then I bit my tongue. Live interviews with a ghost … right.

Bart smiled.  “My lady,” he said.

Wow.

“Um, well, sit down, please… would you mind telling me a little about you? Let’s start from the beginning. I can’t place your style at all. Where and when do you come from?”

“New York State.  The Hudson River Valley,” he said.  “A little town called Englehook.  Pleasant place, not too terribly affected by the recent war, although of course there were certain … disturbances.”  He put his hands in the pocket of his long, silver-buttoned jacket.

“War?”

“Between the United States and the Crown.”

 “Oooh, THAT war. I see. And how did you become, how shall I put it, defunct? Is that an indelicate question? I am terribly sorry.” 

Bart’s smile faded.  “You understand, m’lady, it is impolite to discuss that in better ghostly circles.  It assumes a certain … intimacy.”

“Indeed! Oh dear, oh dear. I apologize. Ok. So now you are haunting people’s apartments, I read. How is that working out for you?  What is an average day in a haunted flat like?”

“It depends, of course, upon the tenants of those rooms.  Ghosts often sleep in the daytime to preserve their energy for pleasurable activities in the evening, and that was indeed a mercy before Alma moved in!  The previous tenants were untidy and uninteresting.  Hippies.”

(I cringes, given my penchant for mandala curtains and fringed things, but I let it pass. Helooked so courteous)

 “Alma? I must admit I am curious. What is it like for a ghost, to, well, you know, fall in love, I suppose? I mean,” I gently poked at his chest, and felt something like a shock of static electricity. “Is there a heart beating in there? What are the symptoms of ghostly passion?”

Bart’s eyes gleamed.  They were light brown, almost bronze in color.  “It is very much as it was in the flesh.  A hot rush, an urge for release.  But as in the flesh, there are certain…shall we say dangers.  And the requirement to practice a sort of restraint, lest … oh, we needn’t discuss this now.  Let me say that ghosts, like those on the other side of the veil, have only a certain amount of energy to expend.”

“That’s intriguing. And all this prickling and hair rising that you do to people… Do you do that on purpose, or does it just happen? What are the physics of ghost-to-living-human interaction? And is there an etiquette to it?”

“I am considered to be a master at those—as you say—physics.  And the etiquette is as it always was and shall be.  The lady must be willing.  Loving Alma is the first time I sampled the pleasures of the boudoir with the living since I have resided on their side.  There is a warmth and sweetness to her that I had almost forgotten.  With other ghosts, lovemaking is more like a lightning strike.  But I am being indiscreet.”

“Fancy that!! Ok, just a couple more questions … back to the story. I have inside info that a, um colleague of yours is making an appearance. Name of Geoff? Can you tell me a little about him? And the other ghosts in your … er … circle? How does one becomes a ghost?”

“Geoff is a hot head.  I swear he did not know he was dead for decades!  He is a master of the low jest and yet cannot take a joke at his own expense. And I do not know how this fate befell either of us.  Not everyone who passes remains here.”

“Do you mean we don’t all become ghosts? What are the rules?”

“We do not.  And the rules are those we discover as we proceed.  We do not need food, although we enjoy the aroma of it cooking.  We appreciate beautiful music.  And love—that we may enjoy, if cautiously. There’s no real peril for the living in an involvement with us.  No fear of—how do I put this delicately—offspring.  We are utterly harmless, and we cannot…”  He coughed again. “I swear to you, lady, we are quite thoroughly harmless. We are.”

“Uh-ah?” I say, a bit doubtfully, but he smiles on serenely, carefully not ignoring my skepticism. “Ok, the million dollars question… Albus Dumbledore said, that to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. What is your take on the matter?”

“Dumbledore!  What a curious name.  An adventure, yes, and one that may be delighted in.”

“Wow! Thank you! Well, I’ll be reading more about you in the book soon, so I’ll leave it at that. I am sure you have a busy time, giving interviews all over the globe. It was most courteous of you to pay me a visit.”

He took my hand and looked deeply into my eyes, and again I could not tell whether his fingers were hot or cold.  My arm prickled.  And then he bowed. “My lady,” he said, and vanished.  The light on my desk went off, and so did my computer.  I hoped I’d remembered to save the changes to my blog!

And so I was left alone in the room again. And not a speck of dirt stained the Persian rug.

Autumn, 1982. MTV is new, poodle perms are the rage, and life just might be getting better for Alma Kobel.  Her ugly divorce is final at last. Her new job as chef at Bright Day School’s gorgeous old estate is actually fun.  But the place is haunted—and so is Alma’s apartment. Bartholomew Addison Jenkins’ ghost has been invisibly watching her for months.  When he materializes one night, Alma discovers Bart—as he likes to be called—has talents she couldn’t have imagined…and a horrifying past. What happens if you have a one-nighter with a ghost?  And what happens if one night is all you want—and you end up ghosting him?  Some spirits don’t like taking “no” for an answer.


Read an Excerpt at Evernight 
or download a sample from Amazon!