a look at Nicola Cameron & ‘Shifter Woods: Howl’ @YesItsNicolaC #Paranormal #Erotic

Laurie wants a news story. Caleb just wants to be left alone. But when the coyote shifters’ paths cross in New Mexico’s Sandia Mountains, Fate steps in and gives them something they never expected—each other.

Reporter Laurie Rivera is on the trail of a white slavery ring when she’s forced to run for her life in the foothills near Sandia Crest. Widowed sheriff and Alpha coyote shifter Caleb Lynch comes across the exhausted reporter and discovers to his shock that Laurie’s also a coyote shifter—and his new heart’s mate.

But Caleb never expected to have another chance at love, and Laurie has a good reason to fear being claimed, especially by an Alpha. As a snowstorm traps them in the sheriff’s cabin, Caleb must find a way around the barriers surrounding Laurie’s heart, and Laurie has to confront her past—and the humans who want her dead—if she wants a chance at her very own “happily ever after.”

  • Paranormal, Erotic Romance, MF
  • Word Count: 23,000
  • Heat Level 4
  • Published By: Belaurient Press

Where to Buy

Amazon


Excerpt

Upstairs, Caleb stretched out in the big, comfortable bed, remembering how Paul Sleeping Turtle, Mike Ivanov and he had used some stout ropes and a lot of good-natured cursing to haul the mattress and box spring and over the loft railing. Anna had stood well out of the way downstairs, laughing at their language as they’d sweated and lugged the damn things upward. That night, however, she’d rewarded him in the newly installed bed, and Mike cheerfully baited him the next day about hearing the noise from a good mile away.

He’d never brought another woman to the cabin after Anna’s death, never even wanted to. But Laurie was different. He could smell her even up here, her essence rising with the heat from the fireplace and perfuming the loft with the smell of warm, sweet female in heat and in need of a good fucking.

He had no idea why Laurie had suddenly gone into heat while he was doing the dishes, but the change in her scent was unmistakable. Granted, sometimes an unmated Alpha could send a young, untried female into heat from simple proximity. But Laurie Rivera had to be in her early thirties, and if she was a virgin he’d eat his badge. The view he’d caught of her in the reflection of the kitchen window was of a female openly eyeing him and liking what she saw.

He grinned at the hand-hewn beams overhead. You know damn well what it means. She’s my mate, whether she likes it or not.

Which, ironically, was the problem. From what she’d told him, she was skittish as hell about the idea of being claimed. He couldn’t blame her, considering her experiences with her first Alpha. But it certainly messed up any chance he had with her, as well. And he didn’t have the luxury of taking his time and courting her, letting her get to know him over time. The moment the plows came through in the morning, Mike and this Gavin guy would be at the cabin to pick her up. After that, Laurie would be back in the city with her career and her life, never to return.

Albuquerque isn’t that far, though.

Oh, yeah? When was the last time you were there? The last time you had time to go there?

His subconscious—or his coyote, he wasn’t sure—had a point. He had to act tonight before he lost her. So, time to be sneaky.

He kicked off the blanket, bracing as the cool air hit his bare skin. He usually didn’t sleep naked during winter, but he wanted as much of his own aroma circulating as possible. He’d made a vow, yes, and he would keep it … unless Laurie gave him permission to break it. And the best way to make happen would be to tempt her upstairs with the scent of his desire and the promise of fulfilling her own.

Running a hand over his chest, he brushed the firm nub of a nipple and the crisp hair that led in a trail down to his groin. He followed it now, wrapping a hand around his soft cock and squeezing. It twitched at the stimulation; when he squeezed again, running his thumb over the upper ridge of the head, it began to thicken lazily.

He started a light, teasing stroke, not enough to get himself off but more than enough to get fully hard. Closing his eyes, he imagined Laurie climbing the stairs to the loft and his bed. The mattress would dip a bit as she climbed on it, moving on all fours to him. He knew she was the kind of female who, when her mind was made up, would stake her claim. There would be no fear, no anger, nothing but need and the deep knowledge that they belonged together.

He pictured her straddling his thighs, bending over to give him a deep, luscious kiss. Her breasts would swing forward and he could cup them, relishing the firm weight of them in each hand before he leaned up to take a nipple in his mouth. He already knew how the salt of her sweat and the sweet spice of her skin would taste, and how to rub the velvet flat of his tongue across the nub to make her gasp. He wanted to learn all the sounds she made in bed, the feminine moans and sighs that were music to a male’s ears.

His sweet female would be eager that first time, taking him in hand and guiding his straining cock between her legs. He groaned as he imagined the hot, wet squeeze of her sliding down around him, a perfect fit that would drive him out of his mind. She’d start riding him, her breasts jiggling with each rise and fall, and that perfect friction building between cock and cunt, all hot juices and slippery softness and his dick going deeper and deeper into her until he could feel the electricity rising, building at that sweet spot between balls and spine…

He pulled his hand away, half-enjoying the sparking, stuttering feeling of having his orgasm denied. Now he just had to wait.

Please, Laurie, I need you. Come to me.


About Nicola Cameron

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 sex 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.

Website | Blog | Facebook | Facebook Reader Group | Twitter | Goodreads

Welcome to Ember Leigh w/ #EroticRomance #book ‘The Last Resort’ @EmberLeighAuth @GoddessFish

Today we have author Ember Leigh visiting. Welcome!

What would you like to tell readers about yourself?

* Ember Leigh has been writing erotic romance novels since she was far too young. A native of northern Ohio, she currently resides near Lake Erie with her Argentinean husband, where they run an Argentinian-American food truck. In addition to romance novels, Ember also writes travel memoirs and occasionally updates a couple of blogs. In her free time, she practices Ashtanga yoga, hops around the world, and eats lots of vegetables.

Find Ember Leigh here…
Facebook | Twitter | Website

Today Ember Leigh will be talking about the best piece of writing advice she ever received and how it helped her.
* At the risk of sounding like a complete dolt, the best piece of advice I ever received about writing was, “Just write.”
* It sounds so painfully obvious—the type of adage that makes you roll your eyes or whisper behind people’s backs.
* I was born a writer. I’ve known since age nine that I was an author, and truly it has been the only sustaining, burbling passion that simmers in my depths. Think of the sulfur springs in Yellowstone. It’s like that. Maybe without the pungent smell.
* Knowing my passion throughout life, whenever I’d encounter this advice it would make me scoff. “Of course, writers write. What does this even mean?”
* But by age nineteen I had entirely stopped writing. In fact, all I had to go on during my adult years was this lingering sensation that “I was a writer”, like the memory of a dream I’d had long, long ago. Somewhere, deep down, that was still the truth that resonated with me.
* Except, I wasn’t writing.
* A non-writing writer, which isn’t technically possible.
* As the years whiled on, I became more and more frustrated with my lack of progress. Couldn’t I just be PUBLISHED already? I felt time slipping away, alongside a desperate urge to accomplish something with my writing instead of just letting it wither and die. I had three romance novels written, in various stages of completion, that I desperately wanted to revise and send out into the world. I had to rearrange my work schedule to do this—so I could feel emotionally and mentally ready to write, instead of exhausted all the time by the 70-hour work weeks.
* Once my schedule gave me the freedom to write with some regularity, I realized…I couldn’t. It wasn’t as easy as when I was sixteen staying up until the wee hours, scribbling furiously onto notebook paper. Now, it required some unachievable cocktail of inspiration and discipline.
* I had all the excuses in the book: I wasn’t good anymore, I have nothing to write about, if I finish this first novel my ideas will dry up, what is the point of it even?
* I crippled myself with the need for my first novel to be perfect. And I was also scared that once I finished revising these first three original novels, I would never have another idea ever again. So I was hesitant to write too much, if that makes any sense at all.
* When my first novel came out, I was very proud, as all first-time novel mothers are. I set to work on revising the second novel I had written from my earlier years, and got that one ready to publish. And then when that one got picked up, I got to work on the third.
* And it was around this time that something very peculiar happened.
* Ideas started bombarding me from all angles.
* Entirely new ideas that weren’t novels I had started when I was 18. Good lord, it felt like a miracle! And it was also around this time that I looked back at my first published novel from just a couple years prior and realized OH MY GOD. THIS KIND OF SUCKS.
* I mean this in the nicest self-deprecating way possible. Because what happened is that I had grown as a writer. In all the writing and revising over the past few years, the incredible happened: I WAS GETTING BETTER.
* What I didn’t realize when I was younger was that writing begets writing.
* Once my output rate started picking up, people around me noticed. Cue the appreciative, jealous sighs. Friends who had always wanted to write novels would ask: “how do you write so much? How do you even finish a novel? I always sit down and second-guess it.”
* We already know what I told them: JUST WRITE.
* Just do it, because that’s the only way to do it. You have to write through the confusion, the discomfort, the uncertainty, the lack of ideas. To write more, you have to WRITE MORE. And in the process, you will subtly refine your craft.
* It’s not that you write one book and that is your forever pinnacle of craft. Unless maybe you spend a decade on a literary novel, of course. But generally, the only way to get better, to understand what you’re doing, is to keep doing it and learn along the way. You don’t show up to the blank page knowing everything already.
* That first novel out the gate isn’t the end. Rather, it’s just the beginning.
* You just gotta keep writing.

A look into…

~ Blurb ~

* Rose Delaney is a baby bounty hunter, rescuing children from fugitive ex-spouses. All she wants is to return a recovered child to its mother and get back to her regimented solitary life. But when a snow storm leaves her and baby Emmy stranded, Rose has no choice but to lean on the ruggedly handsome rescuer, who thinks the baby is hers. Holed up in their mountain resort-under-construction and unable to contact Emmy’s mother, Rose’s priority is hitting the road—even if Garrett’s erotic touch entices her to ride out the storm.
* Construction boss Garrett Galo loves his job, but he never imagined a perk like being snowbound during a whiteout with the sassy brunette he just rear-ended. He’s learned to stay away from women who want a family, especially when they come with a kid in tow. When passionate nighttime encounters flare between them, Garrett begins to question what he’d risk to keep Rose.
* This isn’t the time or the place for romance—but will five days on a mountain make these loners reconsider giving in to love?

~ Excerpt ~

* She eyed him as she swam near him but not any closer than an arm’s length away. His cock hardened into a full-blown erection, and hiding it was no longer an option. As the water sloshed around him, he wondered if she’d spotted it yet— after all, the pool was chlorinated, crystal clear, and the woman had hawk eyes. She’d like what he had to offer, too.
* An idea occurred to him. “Do you know how to dive?”
* She shook her head, never ripping her eyes from him. “Want a quick lesson?” She nodded.
* “Come here, then.” He held out his arms, absolutely ready to put his hands all over her naked body for an impromptu diving lesson that would teach her nearly nothing.
* Rose swam closer, hesitant. “But don’t we have to get out of the pool first?”
* “Yes, but first there’s a very important step.” Fuck it. Time to go for the gold.
* She swam up to him and touched the bottom, her breasts peeking out of the water as she faced him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, nearly dizzy from the heavy hand of lust. Her tight nipples grazed his chest as she stood before him.
* “First step,” he said, droplets of water falling from his hair onto his arm, “is to loosen up.”

Buy The Last Resort here…
Amazon | The Wild Rose Press

Thank you for joining us here today, Ember Leigh! It was a pleasure getting to know you and your story.

ANNOUNCEMENT! Ember Leigh will be awarding a $15 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour! So be sure to leave a comment AND use this RAFFLECOPTER LINK to enter the drawing. Also, visit the other tour stops for a greater chance of winning!

a look at Jules Dixon & ‘Rescued by Love’ @JulesofTripleR @EvernightPub #fairytale #romance

Today we have author Jules Dixon visiting. Welcome!

What would you like to tell readers about yourself?

* Fuzzy sock collector, martini connoisseur, baseball fanatic, and dandelion lover, author Jules Dixon is a living testament to the genius of sugar and caffeine being able to keep a human alive. She’s addicted to everything related to the amazing emotion of love, probably instigated by her own happily ever after of 25 years with her beer-brewing hubby. Their own love story created a sassy, artistic daughter and a computer genius but ultra-sarcastic son. Jules explores the rich psychology of sexuality, choices, and conflicts of high school, college, and young adult characters with sizzle and humor in her novels and novellas. She’s a busy writer, and she loves it!

Find Jules Dixon here…
Facebook | Pinterest | Twitter | Website

A look into…

~ Blurb ~

* Aurora Jessen lives a life that would make a princess envious, but will her prince ever find her with her overprotective father hovering? When the infuriating Drexel Mason returns to town, his ability to get her to almost spontaneously orgasm while simultaneously making her want to stab him fascinates her, but a deadly accident reiterates the lack of control over her own life.
* Drexel Mason’s childhood was more a scene from a nightmare than a tale of fated love. The memories make him cover his pain with a secret elixir, but Aurora’s kiss confiscates the lingering ache. When she accidentally takes his pain-killing potion, he’s given an opportunity to slay the dragon of his cruel past and release the prince hiding inside.
* Will Drexel save his princess or will she continue waiting for true love in her ivory tower?

~ Excerpt ~

* I rested my cheek against his shoulder and my nose brushed carelessly against his neck. His body stiffened and I wondered if it was from the touch or something else. I could hear his heart beating fast in his chest and the sound was comforting. I inhaled a deep breath and smirked.
* His cologne isn’t that bad. Just takes time to get used to it.
* “Drexel?” I asked.
* “Yeah.”
* “Why did you kiss me?”
* “Yeah, I didn’t kiss you, Princess. You kissed me.”
* I’ll show him Princess!
* As if he knew I was going to try to get away, his hand pressed on my shoulder blade to hold my body to him.
* I adjusted my head so I could look up at him again. “No, you kissed me, Drexel.”
* “Now, Aurora—”
* “Don’t say my name like that,” I said through gritted teeth.
* His lips grazed my ear. “Ah-roar-ah.” He pulled the life from every syllable until I needed the next one like the oxygen in my blood. “We both know that was an impulsive and uncontrolled Aurora kiss. It wasn’t a Drexel kiss. When I kiss you, it’s different than that kiss. I’m sure you remember what one of my kisses feels like, right?”
* I ignored the question. To remember brought back memories I didn’t want to forget, but I’d pushed them down to move on with life like he had.
* “You can’t tell me you didn’t like that kiss,” I hissed back.
* “Didn’t say I didn’t like it. I’m saying I didn’t start the kiss, and I was only participating in being molested by your tongue because you seemed to be enjoying it.”
* “I seem to remember your third leg was molesting me and would lead me to believe you were enjoying it.”
* “Whatever.” He chuckled and my rising blood pressure made my face flush.
* “Did you just ‘whatever’ me?”
* “Just trying to speak your language.” His hand lowered and slipped into the open slit on the back of my dress. With his hand spread across my lower back, I could feel the tip of his pinkie just resting at the top of the split of my butt cheeks, sliding under the lace of my thong. Skin on skin.
* I wiggled and shout-whispered in his ear, “Drexel, your hand!”
* “Uh-huh, nice thong.” He was an excellent dancer, swaying our bodies in unison to the dreamy but sultry beat. He spun us at just the right moment, compelling the breath to exhale in excitement from my lungs. “What about my hand?”
* My breathing shallowed and my body betrayed me, hardening my nipples. “Please, your hand.” A moan escaped my lips.
* Drexel rumbled a soothing, manly murmur of appreciation in response. “Now, why can’t you be this Aurora all the time? So peaceful and graceful, and not pissing me off?”

~ What readers are saying about the Triple R Series ~

* Everyone can relate to Presley’s insecurities. Bless that hero Jude who rode in on the white horse. This is a fun and sexy romance. — T. Crosby
* Oh. My. Gosh! When Sage thinks that Rahl is going to kiss her and on a whimpered breath she says just his name, “Rahl”. …sigh. Big breath…aahhhh! So frickin’ romantic! — Kindle Customer
* I love this group of people, and every book gets better and better! Kanyon and Willow have been my favorite so far. Jules is a great author, going to start the next one now! — S. Parks

Buy Rescued by Love here…
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookStrand | Evernight Publishing | Kobo

~ Coming Next! ~

A surprise fated mate. A fence between them. Family objections to face. Are they stronger than everything separating them?

Thank you for joining us here today, Jules Dixon! It was a pleasure getting to know you and your story.