a look at ‘Shifter Woods: Snarl’ by Nicola Cameron #Paranormal #Erotic #Romance @YesItsNicolaC

Can a lone wolf woo and win his very own kitty girl, or will he get turned into cougar chow?

Jack Hawthorne is an Alpha wolf shifter and former SEAL who lost the leadership of his pack while serving his country. Kate Chandler is a cougar shifter with no sense of smell and a deep-seated distrust of fated mates. When these two are thrown together at the Cougar Ridge Ski Resort in Esposito County, NM, Jack realizes that the sharp-witted, beautiful female is his heart’s mate. But her injury means she can’t smell the truth, and her father (and Jack’s former commanding officer) has made it clear that Kate is off limits.

Now, Jack has to convince Kate that they’re meant for each other, win her father’s approval, and get the local wolf pack to accept him. But as every SEAL knows, the only easy day was yesterday.

  • Paranormal, Erotic Romance
  • Word Count: 30,000
  • Heat Level 4
  • Published By: Belaurient Press

Books in the Shifter Woods series:


Reviews

Rated Five Stars. “Ms. Cameron did a wonderful job with Shifter Woods: Snarl and I’m eagerly awaiting the next installment in the series.”Amazon review


Where to Buy

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Smashwords | iTunes | Kobo | Goodreads


Excerpt

Kate arched her back, pressing a lace-encased breast against his hand. “I seem to remember you saying something about SEALs only needing one hand for bra hooks. Want to prove it?”

Jack’s grin could only be called predatory. He slid a hand under her spine, the pressure of her bra band easing as he undid the hooks. “Less than five seconds,” he said smugly. “That’s a new personal best.”

“I’m impressed.”

He rested his hand on her ribcage, thumb and index finger cupping the underside of her breast. “Oh, trust me, I can do more than that.” Bending down, he took the fabric of her bra in his teeth and tugged it loose, exposing her. “Woof,” he mumbled through the material before spitting it over the side of the bed.

She chortled. “You animal.”

“Guilty as charged. God, you’re gorgeous.”

Leaning down again, he ran the tip of his tongue over one dark pink peak, delicately flicking it. It hardened, the pleasure arrowing between her legs and making her inner muscles clench. “Ooooh.”

“You liked that?”

“Oh, yeah. Do it again.”

He did, licking and suckling while his fingers teased the other nipple, rolling it before giving it a soft pinch. She melted into a happy puddle under his talented attentions, feeling his own arousal growing as the ridge in his jeans pressed against her lower thigh. Sliding her fingers into his hair, she gently scratched his scalp before slipping down further and touching his ears. She heard/felt the rumble of pleasure as she ran a fingertip over the curve of one ear. “These are so cute. I bet your team nickname was Wolfman.”

He He let a nipple pop out of his mouth, the air cooling it quickly. “No bet. They’re round, but the cartilage never folded over completely so they look pointed from some angles.”

He She repeated her caress and was rewarded with a soft hiss. “They’re also sensitive.”

He “Yeah, they are—Kate.” Her name ended on a gasp as she traced the edge of the soft cartilage. “Baby, you keep doing that and I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

He “So don’t be. Give it all to me. I want it.”

He He leaned up, capturing her mouth in another of those lush, greedy kisses. “I’ll give it to you, everything you want,” he said against her lips. “But let me enjoy this, okay? I’ve been dreaming of you since the day I saw you.”
She made a wordless noise of agreement. He returned to her breasts, giving both her nipples the slightest teasing bite before kissing his way down her stomach, her navel, until he reached the waistband of her jeans. “Permission to take these off, ma’am?”

He She stroked his hair again, enjoying the softness of it. “Granted.”

He He made quick work of the button and fly zipper, sliding the tight denim down and stripping it off her legs. She was grateful she’d worn the matching panties to the bra, a pretty bikini style with lace around the edges. He sat back on his knees, licking his lips. “Fuck. Blue lace. That’s my favorite, baby.”

He She shifted one leg, opening her thighs in unmistakable invitation. “You haven’t even seen the best bit yet.”

He Even in the room’s dim light his smile glowed. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a cocktease, Ms. Chandler?”

He “Mm, it may have been mentioned once or twice.”

He He slid his fingers under the blue satin, sending a shiver of anticipation across her hips as he slowly pulled her panties down, tossing them to the floor alongside her bra and jeans. The coolness of the air chilled the hot, damp flesh between her legs, and she sucked in a shuddering breath when he ran his fingertips over her outer lips. Bringing his hand up, he sniffed it with delight. “Oh, yeah. You smell so good.”

He In any other situation the reminder of her disability would sting, but now all she could feel was a wriggling sort of glee. “What do I smell like?”

He He inhaled her essence on his fingers again. “Like salt mixed with something tangy and sweet. I’ll be honest, it’s making my mouth water.”

He She rubbed her foot along his side. “Well, if it smells that good…”

He Growling softly, he slid down between her thighs, wedging them open with his shoulders.

BIO

Nicola Cameron is a married woman of a certain age who really likes writing about science fiction, fantasy, and sex. When not writing about those things, she likes to make Stuff™. And she may be rather fond of absinthe.

While possessing a healthy interest in romance since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that she decided to write about it. The skills picked up during her SF writing career transferred quite nicely to speculative romance. Her To Be Written work queue currently stands at around nineteen books, and her mojito-sodden Muse swans in from Bali every so often to add to the list, cackling to herself all the while.

Nicola plans to continue writing until she drops dead over her keyboard or makes enough money to buy a private island and hire Rory McCann as her personal trainer/masseur, whichever comes first.

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a look at ‘To My Muse’ by Nicola Cameron #Contemporary #Romance #Comedy @YesItsNicolaC

From the author about the book…

Hello, and thanks so much for having To My Muse on your blog today. If I’m being honest with everyone, the tagline for this book should be, “Loosely based on a kind of true story!”

Back in March 2017, I pinged the extremely talented, kind, and tolerant actor Louis Herthum on Twitter and told him that he’d helped to inspire my new dystopian SF romance novel Degree of Resistance with his performance in Westworld. This resulted in a brief but lovely chat, at the end of which I asked if he’d like a print copy of Degree. To my delight, he said yes and told me where to send the book. The next day I signed a spandy new copy to him, packaged it up, and mailed it off, happy as a clam.

Six hours later, I had a nervous breakdown.

See, since I write romance novels that tend towards the explicit side of things, sex scenes don’t shock me. They’re just another part of the plot, and not even the most interesting part a lot of the time. But I forget that civilians don’t always share that view, and I had just sent a perfectly nice stranger a book that had some rather hot (well, no—extremely hot) scenes in it. Worse, I’d told him that he had inspired the plot. I was belatedly but absolutely convinced that he would put two and two together and come up with, “Note to self—make sure this pervert never comes within 50 yards of me.”

Panicking, I called my friend T. As she tried to talk me down, pointing out that 1) Lou’s a guy, so it was highly unlikely that 2) he would read a romance novel, even one with heavy SF themes, and 3) would probably just stick it on a shelf as a nice piece of egoboo, I was busy coming up with an insane plan—I would fly to LA, break into his agent’s office, steal back the book, and nobody would be the wiser. Brilliant! It would work!

Why, yes, I’m a little neurotic when it comes to my writing, why do you ask?

Needless to say, I was talked out of this. But after I calmed down I did have to admit that it was a hell of a funny idea. And when I decided to try writing a contemporary romantic comedy, it popped back into my head and waved its little hands, saying, “Me! Use me!” Seeing as I’d already lost some of my sanity and a largish patch of stomach lining on the concept, I figured why not. To My Muse is the result.

By the way, this book? No sex. Lots of comedy and banter between my leads, but no sex. Yes, I’m shocked as well. But boy, it was a ball to write.


Ever do something really, really dumb?

When too much tequila and an enabling BFF put Lily Nayar’s romance novel Feast of Lovers into the hands of its inspiration, sexy British actor Tom Morrison, Lily is horrified. Now she’s determined to get her book back, even if that means breaking into Tom’s hotel room to do it.

With the help of a strategic lie and a charismatic knight, Lily’s screwball plan catapults her into the middle of her very own Cinderella story, Hollywood style. But will a vengeful actress ruin Lily’s shot at a real life HEA with Tom?

  • Contemporary romance, romantic comedy, MF
  • Word Count: 67,000
  • Heat Level 2
  • Published By: Belaurient Press

Excerpt

Giving Theresa a thumbs up, I closed the door and turned my attention to the hotel room. It had already been cleaned and the bed was neatly made. A suitcase sat on the valet stand next to the TV, and the dresser and desk held various pieces of paper, notes, and a couple of plastic shopping bags, all the usual stuff when you’re stuck in a hotel room for a couple of weeks.

Of course, the fangirl part of my brain was screeching like a gibbon at me that I was in Tom Morrison’s hotel room. He’d slept in that very bed last night. Sat at that desk to check his email and Facebook. Took a dump behind the closed door of what I assumed was the bathroom. The prosaic nature of that last bit helped me regain some self-control, and I tiptoed (why, I don’t know, I’m an idiot) over to the desk. There was what looked like a script for GearShifter on it, as well as a MacBook Pro, but no Feast of Lovers. Bad Tom, no leaving your expensive computer equipment out where people can steal it.

I wanted to leaf through the script so badly, but I ignored it and kept looking for Feast. Not on the desk top, not on the dresser, not on the TV. I was starting to worry that he’d taken it with him to the location when I noticed the suitcase. I truly, honestly hated the idea of going through his personal stuff, but he might have stuck it in there. I could just lift the lid, take a peek, maybe it was in plain sight—

I had the lid in hand when the bathroom door swung open and a tall, beautiful blonde in a towel strutted out. “I thought I heard you—” she purred, before she saw me. Both face and tone iced over. “Who the hell are you?”

I let out a noise that could have been used as a sound effect for a creaking vault door. The blonde stalked closer, looming over me. Up close, I could see some fine lines around her eyes, but she was still ridiculously gorgeous. “What are you doing here?” she snapped.

Oh. Oh, shit. My brain informed me that I was currently sharing a room with Claudine Ellery, the actress playing Tom’s antagonist/love interest on the show. What the hell was she doing in his bathroom? Were they dating in real life? Why was I asking stupid questions when I should be turning and running for my freaking life?

And then Fate decided that she needed an even bigger chuckle because the room door opened and Tom Morrison walked in. I caught a glimpse of an apologetic Theresa hovering in the hallway before she was eclipsed by Tom, who was staring at Claudine and me.

Oh, God. He was even better looking in person. Not all actors are, but Tom—he was edible. Curly black hair, eyes the color of dark chocolate, and lips that I’d wanted to kiss since the first time I saw him on screen. With faded jeans that fit him perfectly, a dusty white button-down with rolled up sleeves, just the right amount of chest hair peeping out of his collar, and the cutest smudge of dust across one laser-sharp cheekbone, he was every one of my fantasies come to warm, tall life right in front of me.

And I had broken into his hotel room.

That was it. I was going to jail, assuming that the cops didn’t just see “brown person” and shoot me when they got here. At the very least I’d get fired from Golden State. Mom and Dad would disown me, Dada and Dadi would die of shame, and Derek would probably take out an ad in the LA Times saying that I was adopted. My only hope was that Theresa had gotten the hell out of here. There was no reason for both of us to go down for my stupidity—

“Lilian, darling, what are you doing here?”

My brain skidded to a halt. Words had come out of Tom Morrison’s mouth. Friendly words. While he was staring directly at me. Looking, if I may say so, as if he was talking to someone he knew. Which he didn’t, because I may not have remembered sending him my book but I would definitely remember meeting him.

“Um. Hi?” I waved weakly.

“I thought you decided not to come out this weekend.” He crossed to me, slipping an arm around my shoulders as he stared at Claudine. He squeezed my shoulder once, kind of hard, then did it again.

Even with my brain in fangirl vapor lock I can take a hint. I had no idea how he knew who I was, but he wanted me to play along. Plastering a grin on my face, I slipped my arm around his waist and squeezed back. His torso felt like warm rock, and he smelled so good.

“Well, I figured I needed a road trip,” I extemporized, giving him a bright smile. “And I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Not at all, angel,” he purred. Up close, I could see a hint of relief in his eyes. It disappeared as he turned to Claudine. “Claud, why are you in my room wearing a towel?” he asked politely.

She planted hands on slim hips, cocking her head to the side. “Seriously? You have to ask why?”

“Yes, because if I remember correctly, I told you that I had no interest in going to bed with you. In fact, I’m quite sure I informed you of this on numerous occasions. And when I walk into my hotel room and see you wearing nothing but terrycloth while my girlfriend,” this time his squeeze was gentle, “is standing there looking gobsmacked, I have to wonder what the actual fuck you’re up to.”

My face went rigid as it tried to hold onto my smile. Girlfriend? Eeeeeeeee…


Where to Buy

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Smashwords | iTunes


About the Author

Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in romance and sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to speculative romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).

 

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a look at ‘Lady of Thorns’ by Nicola Cameron #EroticRomance #Fantasy @YesItsNicolaC

Hello, and thanks so much for having me on today! Lady of Thorns is the third book in a series that was never supposed to be a series. I’ve been describing it as “Lady Mary from Downton Abbey goes head to head with Alan Shore from Boston Legal—and hijinks ensue!” While I’ve resigned Danaë and Matthias to the background for now, fear not, Mattaë fans—book four will run in parallel to the events of Lady of Thorns and covers what happens when Matthias arrives in Hellas for his first official visit after the wedding.

In the meantime I do hope you enjoy the story of Amelie and Alain, and I can promise that they’ll make another appearance down the line as I now know where I’m going with this series. All I will say about that is: buckle up, because it’s going to be a bumpy ride. Mwahahahaha…

Blurb

Love was never supposed to be part of the deal…

Lady Amelie de Clerq’s prickly demeanor and earth mage abilities have earned her the nickname “Lady of Thorns,” keeping potential suitors at bay and making her the butt of the nobility’s jokes. Determined to attract a husband who will love her for herself rather than her fortune, she decides to embark on a journey of sensual self-discovery.

Alain LaPorte, wily lawyer and toast of the capital’s social set, has been summoned to Lierdhe to oversee business negotiations with a neighboring earl. When Amelie asks Alain to tutor her in the bedroom arts, he agrees to introduce the virgin mage to pleasure. But lessons in lovemaking soon turn into a matter of the heart, forcing both Amelie and Alain to confront their fears about intimacy, loyalty, and love.

  • Fantasy, Erotic Romance, MF
  • Word Count: 80,000
  • Heat Level 4
  • Published By: Belaurient Press

Books in the Two Thrones series:


Excerpt

LaPorte returned with two goblets of wine and handed her one, the deep garnet of the liquid lit with reflected fire from the candlelight. “I’m glad you came. I must admit, I was afraid you’d changed your mind.”

Amelie took a deep sip, hoping the cool, tart wine would help soothe her nerves. “I had to persuade my maid that I didn’t require help getting ready for bed.” As it was, she wasn’t sure that she’d convinced Jeanette with her excuse that she planning on going back down to her office. “I apologize if I kept you waiting.”

“No apologies necessary.” He showed her to a pair of chairs set on either side of the fireplace and sat down. “You look lovely.”

She plucked at the light blue wool of her gown, wishing she had worn something more alluring, or at least with a lower neckline. Her mother’s closet was full of silky, clingy dresses with daring necklines, and she would have given a great deal to rummage through them. Instead, I come to him dressed like some awkward girl.

Which I suppose I am. “Thank you. You look very handsome.”

He smiled at that. “Thank you, my lady.”

A silence fell after that. She fidgeted with the goblet, wishing she didn’t feel like such a fool. The weight of his attention was tangible, causing her stomach to flutter. “I don’t know what to say now,” she confessed.

“You don’t have to say anything. Drink your wine and let me look at you.”

Her mouth dried again at that and she took a quick sip from her goblet. “I’m sorry about the plainness of my gown. I’m afraid I don’t have anything appropriate to wear to—” A seduction. “—something like this.”

His lips quirked at that. “I asked you to leave what you had on because I liked it. Pretty gowns make for lovely gift wrapping, true, but it all comes off in the end anyway. Besides, there’s a certain appeal to a gown such as yours.”

“I don’t see what that could be,” she muttered into her goblet.

“It’s what it represents. Youth, innocence, an unknown territory ripe to be explored. I suspect it’s the reason why so many men have a fondness for deflowering virgins—they relish being the first man a woman has known intimately.”

She tried to lock the question behind her jaws, but it popped out. “Do you like that?”

“Deflowering virgins?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

She slouched lower in her chair. “Oh.”

He held up a hand. “Not to say that I have anything against it, mind you. Everyone has to start somewhere, after all. But I don’t fetishize it to the degree that other men do. I see it more as a starting point on a very pleasant journey.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way. “And you don’t think less of me for my request?”

“Not at all, my lady. You know what you want, and you wish an experienced tutor to help you achieve it. It’s all quite reasonable to me.” He settled in his chair, sipping his wine. “As I’m playing tutor to you in this area, are there any questions you wish to ask me?”

There were, actually. “Will it hurt much?”

“It shouldn’t. If I make sure you’re aroused and open first, you should be able to take me without discomfort.”

Take him. Those simple words set warmth surging through her lower belly. “So, no gushing blood or rending pain, then.”

He rolled his eyes. “That might be the case if a maid beds a huge brute of a man who’s only interested in his own pleasure. But that won’t be the case with you, I can assure you. I’m confident enough in my ability to couch a lance without causing you harm.”

Even if there would be pain, she was prepared to bear it for the promise of pleasure afterwards. She wondered how many women he’d taken to bed, but found she didn’t want to know the answer. “How do we do this? Go from sitting here to naked and in bed?”

Alain studied her, then drained his goblet. “Like this, my lady.”


Where to Buy

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Google Play | iTunes | Print


About the Author

Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to erotic romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads