Visit my Website for all the blurbs, excerpts and news!!

Visit my Website for all the blurbs, excerpts and news!!
Visit my Website for all the blurbs, excerpts and news!!

Friday, 7 September 2012

El Precio - Guest post and Giveaway with Jean Maxwell

"Suffering from a deplorable excess of creativity, she recently indulged her urge to write that had been simmering since sixth grade, resulting in her first romantic suspense novel, El Mirador." Sounds familiar? It certainly sounds familiar to me!
After El Mirador, Jane Maxwell is back with El Precio.
Leave a comment below for a chance to win a free copy!
 





Following your passions, whether in your past, present or future, comes at a price.

 Happily in love with engineer David Parker, and pursuing her new career as CEO of Flynn Enterprises in sunny Spain, architect Zara Flynn’s idyllic world is shaken to the core with a single text message. She must return home to Montreal to deal with an apartment break-in and the theft of her car. At the same time, her heart is put on the line by a woman from Dave’s past who claims to be pregnant with his child.

 Her mind reeling, she flees to Montreal to do damage control on her property, landing in the arms of an old flame who spares no expense in trying to win her back. Exhausted and vulnerable, she is charmed by his attention, but can he be trusted?
 
Zara is torn between two worlds, when the most devastating news of all is revealed. Can she make things right with Dave, or has she already lost him to another woman?
 
-:-



“Welcome back, Lightning Girl,” he said with a dimpled smile, his voice low and raw with emotion. He took her hands in his. She thought her knees might give out as she recognized the undisguised need in his gaze. She swallowed hard and clasped his hands to her chest.



“Hey, Thunder Boy,” she said, embarrassed at the squeaky, Debra Winger-ish voice ensuing from her lips.



“May I escort you to your office?” he asked, casting a sidelong glance at the small crowd surrounding Mrs. Flynn.



Zara nodded weakly, feeling incapable of uttering another word. Dave’s arm slipped around her shoulders and guided her away from the action and down the long hall.



At last, they reached the cool solitude of the CEO’s office, Dave closing the door behind them. They didn’t get much farther. He spun her around and braced her against the heavy oak paneling, trapping her between him and the door.



“My God, I missed you,” he said, his mouth seeking hers insistently. She barely heard his words above the pounding of her own heart. Her lips trembled as they met his in a searing, all-consuming kiss. If he’d not been holding her so tight, she’d have melted to the floor in a pool of desire. She pulled her hands free and dove them into his tousled locks, dragging her fingers through the soft, collar-length waves of light brown hair.



When they broke their kiss, neither of them breathed lightly. A kiss wasn’t nearly enough to quell the urges seething within. Dave leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes closed.



“This is completely unprofessional and inappropriate,” he whispered.



“I agree,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “What on earth were you thinking, Mr. Parker?”



“Ha.” He smiled his signature half-smile as he continued to hyperventilate. “I was thinking, a demonstration might make things more clear, Miss Flynn.” He swallowed and brought his respiration rate down to a manageable level. “With your permission?”



“By all means, you have my complete attention, sir.”



He pushed away from the door, pulling her with him. He dragged one of the hard-backed visitor chairs over and jammed it up against the doorknob. Walking backwards, he towed her across the room to the oversized drafting table between two massive bookcases. He lifted her to sit on the vinyl-topped surface, wedging his body between her knees. His hands framed her face while he kissed her, hard.



Without conscious thought, Zara’s fingers went to his belt, flipping the buckle open and sliding it through the jean loops and onto the floor. She undid the metal button and worked the zipper down in a few tugs. He caught up strands of her hair and massaged them against her cheeks as he deepened his kiss, letting her continue undressing him. She separated the buttons on his soft denim shirt, slipping her hands inside to stroke his muscled chest. Her fingertips found his taut nipples and lingered there, tickling and touching.



He wrenched the rest of the shirt off then set to work on the front buttons of her sweater, stripping her down to her lacy black bra. His mouth moved to her chest, licking and kissing the mounds of her breasts as he pushed up the hem of her skirt.



With her hormones raging, Zara felt like she might leave a puddle on the tabletop if she didn’t get his dick inside her in the next ten seconds. She grasped at the waistband of his jeans and pushed them down past his hips, releasing his swollen member from its bounds. He pulled her roughly to the edge of the table, lifting her enough to free her skirt from around her bum. Her thin panties were no match for Dave’s insistent fingers. Not much material to them in any case, they shredded easily in his hands. He slung one arm under her knee and lifted it to his ribs, creating enough clearance to plunge his throbbing penis into her.



Zara sucked in air at the sudden, aggressive entry, surprised at how much the rough play excited her. Her arms went tight around his back, her fingernails digging into his skin, clinging to him like a cat on a scratching post. She relished the pounding rhythm of his cock driving into her. Holy Mother, was this how it would always be between them if they were apart for more than a few days? God, she hoped so.



She took all of what he had to give her, mindless of the blueprints and mechanical pencils scattering to the floor from the rocking tabletop. Without the benefit of much foreplay, Zara still felt the rising tide of orgasm flow toward her center as she matched his thrusts.



It usually didn’t work that way for her, the tender tissues between her legs typically requiring a bit more encouragement and…finesse, but…right now…felt good. Jesus, this was her workplace! At least twenty people stood not five meters outside the door. This is crazy!



A burning flush rose up her chest, her breasts tingling and tightening, while her inner thighs quivered on the threshold of surrender. The very idea of making it on an office desk, and that they might be discovered at any moment, brought an unexpected thrill. This is beyond crazy…this is unconscionable…this is…oh, sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph.



She tumbled into orgasm, and so did he. As Dave was about to let out a satisfactory moan, Zara covered his mouth in a smothering kiss to prevent any telltale noise from exiting the room. His free hand cupped the back of her head. She listened to the sound of his breathing and the soft grunts trapped in his throat as he buried himself in her kiss.



Their lips parted, and he nuzzled her neck and licked her earlobe before speaking in a painful whisper. “I’m sorry…if I rushed you. Did I hurt you? I never want to hurt you. I can do better.”



She kissed his cheek. “If you were hurting me, I sure as hell like being hurt,” she replied. “And if you did any better, I’d have to fire you. For being so unprofessional. But your, demonstration, was certainly convincing. Remind me to have you make business presentations more often.”
 
-:-
 
Meet Jean:
 
Official website - idreamofjean.com
 
 
Buy El Precio:
 
or
 
or

 
 
 






Tuesday, 4 September 2012

A picture

"Blue Morpho" - Katherine Wyvern 2012
 
Still feeling very much lost in Elfland.

Thursday, 30 August 2012

Micahel Taggart - a Photo


Work in Progress (Angel Dancer) - Michael Taggart 2012
 
 
I have been admiring Michael's work on flickr for a while now, but this picture really tipped the scales. I needed to hang it, lovingly, on the wall of my humble lair. It has all that I love: elegance, mistery, life. Oh, and abs. Ahem.

Michael's photos are always something different. He usually cuts the original background out to replace it with something dreamy and unexpected out of his own fertile imagination, and the results are often wonderfully poetic. He is also an unusually communicative artist, which means he often shares the why and how a certain piece came about, and this is wonderfully fascinating, especially for those of us who are fond of manipulating pictures but never went further than dabbling in Photoscape.
 
You can see (and purchase) more of Michael's work on his blog or on Amazon!
 


Sunday, 26 August 2012

Guest post and Giveaway - Talbot's Ploy by Kastil Eavenshade

Thank you very much, Katherine, for allowing me a wee bit of space on your blog to spread the word about Talbot's Ploy. This story is set in 18th century France and is about two boyhood friends who became lovers. One of my bad boys--Talbot--already knows his tastes. A strong man in his bed has always been what he desires. Maxime, on the other hand, has gone from one female's bed to another and never been satisfied. Gee, I wonder why ... hmmm?

I never intended this to tale to go as long as it did but when the muse talks, you better listen. I'm glad I did. The first draft was all from Maxime's PoV. Talbot's definitely spices it up. Without further jabberjawing, a give you a taste of my m/m wickedness.
 
-:-

Don't forget to leave a comment below for a chance to win a free copy of the book!


 






Talbot Sauvageot has kept his wicked lifestyle underground for several years, going from one lover to the next. Decedent rake to females by day, passionate lover for his latest male companion at night. When he is forced to flee Paris or face the guillotine, Talbot realizes none of the men he has bedded over the past years burns at his soul like his dear friend Maxime LaRue.

Forced into seclusion in the forest of Bois de Lunor, he receives an invitation from Maxime for their yearly gathering at his estate in Varanguebec. One that Talbot has avoided the past few years. Refusing to submit to a life without love, Talbot schemes to discover if his childhood friend shares the same taste in pleasure as he.

Will Maxime submit to Talbot’s ploy or cast his friend in the shadow of death?

-:-




The smell of burning sage permeated Talbot’s clothing. He staggered down the hall with a bottle of red wine in one hand and a scantily clad female on his arm. Her perk nipples peeked out of a lacey bodice. He stumbled, and she giggled as she reached for the wine.

“Non.” Talbot put the bottle to his lips and finished it off. “Find another to buy you some Bordeaux.”

The hall of the maison, draped with sheer silks and embroidered fabric, curved and warbled in his drunken eyesight. The squeals of pleasure leaked out of the sliver at the bottom of each door. Talbot stumbled to the side as a naked harlot ran giggling past him with a lusty male hot on her trail. He snickered at the fool. A lover should fall graciously into a man’s arms and scream at every ramming thrust from his fleshy stick.

His escort stopped and ran her fingers up the doorjamb to a room. He molded his body to hers as a few other revelers in the brothel passed by. He licked his lips, his gaze wandering the many paths of her lace-covered skin.

She laughed and the door behind her swung wide. Her hand fisted in his shirt. His little minx whorled him around and gave him a playful shove. Talbot lost his balance and tripped, the bed catching his fall. He burst into a fit of laughter, too drunk to care.

She laid her body on top of his. Her lips sought his cheek and tasted before she slid off of him. “Ah, Talbot, someday I shall bed you, but for now your company awaits.” Her gossamer outfit swayed as she left the room. The door closed behind her and locked.

Paris had brought Talbot everything he desired, the most beneficial asset being the underground network for persons with unique tastes. Discreet and alluring, his deepest fantasies came alive within the walls of the brothel. His coin bought him almost anything.

“Where is my whore?” He chuckled.

“You promised you would be sober. And shaved.” Lean and fair skinned, a man draped in nothing but a sheer cloth around his waist walked out from behind one of the many curtains lining the room. He cocked a hip and twirled a finger in his long blond hair. Beneath the revealing fabric, his manhood twitched.

Talbot snorted, rubbing his beard. “I promise nothing, Tyeis, but the pleasure of my prick.” He crooked a finger as he unlaced his breeches. Tyeis rolled his eyes and tossed the fabric covering his body on the floor. Talbot grinned before dragging Tyeis down on top of him. His kiss was eager, threatening to swallow his lithe consort whole. His lover smelt of rose petals and lavender, soaking oils from a long bath at his request. Talbot’s fingers laced in Tyeis’s long locks as he tugged on his lower lip. A high-pitched moan escaped the small man’s throat.





 

Monday, 20 August 2012

The Garden of a Thousand Nightingales - Release and Giveaway





"Once upon the time, in an age of the world quite unlike our own, a little wood-elf met a great wizard.

That they met is already a wonder, because their lives were very different, as was their magic. A wood-elf cannot thrive in the stone towers of the walled cities of men, and the wizard did not care much for the whispering wilderness of the forest.

And yet, there was inside the elf's green soul an empty place of the exact same shape as the wizard's wry smile.

There was a long-lost song in the spiral of her ear that sang only for him, like the bramble rose, that deep in the tangled thorns of a forgotten garden, blooms only for the gold-ringed eyes of the blackbird.

In truth, he was her love and her destiny, and she had always ached for him, although she did not know it until the day she met him.

And this is the story of how they came to love each other"








In the whispering wilderness of the Sandoval forest, Dusk, an elusive wood-elf, is intent in preserving the fragile life of her hidden trees from the ravages of men, but once her natural green magic finds its match in the powerful wizardry of Juan Francisco Deva de la Torre Espinosa, Royal Astrologer and right hand of the Queen, her whole life changes course.

When their brief, sensuous starlit romance in the forest turns into a frightful quest in the bleak heart of the city, only the power of her wizard can save Dusk from the cruelty of men, and make a place where their love may blossom.

by Katherine Wyvern, with illustrations by flondo
-:-

Nightlingales, as I call it affectionately, is a love story. I don't refer only to the love story between the two characters but also to the love I have for a certain way of writing. I have always been fascinated by the language, the style and the traditional elements of fairy-tales, and the fairy-tale voice, as I call it, is the one that comes more natural to me. It is the voice that comes straight from my heart, without much brain intervention. Whether that is good or bad for a book I cannot say (I am going to find out soon, I guess), but it was the only possible voice for this particular story, which is, of all the things I ever wrote, my favourite.

I am tremendously happy to have had flondo onboard with this project of mine, not only in the making of the cover but of three fantastic illustrations which truly bring my world and my charachters to life. If you don't know who flondo is, I refer you to some of my older blog posts:


Very special thanks are due to Karyn White for her patient and sympathetic editing of all my books.


It is with true emotional flutters that I announce the release of this story, and I hope it is as magical for you as it is for me (even after all the editing and formatting and ... ).

Leave a comment below for a chance to win a free copy of Nightingales.
Click on the banner for dowloading a free sample or purchasing your very own copy ;)