Saturday, 27 February 2016

The Cowboy Way

Arson, murder, an escaped convict intent on revenge, and a scorned ex-lover complicate the lives of a rancher's daughter, and the arrogant, sexy foreman who wants her for his own. 

Buy Link
Excerpt - “I can take care of myself.” Lacey finally tugged away from him. “And you owe me for that bottle of perfume.” So much for their truce. She turned abruptly to leave. 

“You little hellcat.” His tone was low; the words ground out between his teeth. Chase’s hand encircled her arm, and he jerked her back to him. “You almost blind me with that stuff, and now you expect me to replace it?” He pulled Lacey even closer, until her breasts were crushed against his unyielding, naked chest. His hands 
were like steel bands around the flesh of her upper arms. 

She caught her breath, her heart slamming in her chest. The heat from Chase’s body seeped into hers, drawing an immediate response. Lacey felt her nipples 
harden and tingle with excitement. 

Something hot flowed through her aroused body, pooling between her thighs. The palms of her hands flattened against his chest; the lower half of her body arched into his as lust took control of her emotions. Fear that Chase would realize what he was doing to her nearly crippled her. 

“Let me go.” Oh God. Was that her weak, pitiful voice? 

Without warning, Chase’s hand was at the back of her head, his fingers threading through her loose hair and twisting it into a knot. A soft cry escaped Lacey when she found her head jerked back. Lightning revealed the raw passion etched on Chase’s chiseled face. The flaring nostrils, his prominent cheekbones, and tightly drawn lips left no doubts that he was as turned on as she was. The blaze in his eyes held Lacey’s gaze captive. Filled with an unspoken promise of what was to come. She could barely take a breath when he began to lower his face. 

“I’ve been hard since the first time I laid eyes on you.” She felt his warm breath against her face. 

“No…” Lacey’s heart was about to pound out of her chest. She should fight him, assert herself, and knee him in the groin. Something! She didn’t want this, did she? She opened her mouth to protest when he thrust his hips against her. Oh God! 

“Yes!” His hoarse whisper held a hint of savageness to it, and before Lacey could do any of the things she was thinking, Chase’s mouth swooped down to steal her breath away with a scorching kiss. 

She stiffened, but it didn’t last. He didn’t fight fair. While one hand held her head so he could kiss her at will, the other glided down Lacey’s back and over her bottom, squeezing a half-naked cheek while grinding his hard-on into her. A sob rose in her throat when she realized she was responding to his sexual attack and the forceful persuasion of his mouth. 

“Chase,” she whispered when his mouth left hers to rain kisses down her throat. She closed her eyes and moaned, growing weak in the knees. “No…” 

“No, don’t kiss you?” His lips brushed the curve of her jaw. “No, don’t touch you?” His mouth moved on to tease the flesh of her neck. Lacey trembled wildly. “No, don’t make love to you?” 

Before Lacey realized his intention, he tugged at the spaghetti strap of her camisole and pulled it down until her breast was bare. The sound that escaped him left no doubt that he was close to the end of his limit. He cupped her flesh and pulled it up at the same time, lowering his head until his mouth was on her. 

Friday, 26 February 2016

The Chase by Lily Harlem

Out on 29th February, THE CHASE, an MMM novella set in Cardiff. Please note this story was previously published in the boxed set Brit Boys: On Boys.

Cover design by Lola Divine

Pre-Order you copy of THE CHASE now!

Back Cover Information

Steve's killing time working in a comedy club. Why not? It makes him laugh and both the clientele and the comedians are not just fit but also great company.

Then one stand-up joker decides to create a wild goose chase for Steve and his ex Robert. Cavorting around Cardiff on a frosty night, however, does more than just show them the way to a threesome, it also reveals the reasons why they should give each other one more shot.

Please note The Chase was previously published in the Brit Boys: On Boys boxed set.

Wednesday, 24 February 2016

The Sex Scene (Or How Much Harder Can it Get?) – A Short Story by Erika Gardner

Theresa sat down at her computer with a purposeful air. She set down her piping hot Earl Grey tea and pulled up her manuscript. Skimming last night’s work made her smile. The relationship developing with Jack and Sarah was everything she had seen in her head. Now, if she could get the chemistry just right.

“I’ve waited too long,” he murmured as his lips grazed her neck.

“We’ve waited long enough,” she whispered, pressing herself to him.

He ran his hands through her long, loose locks, pushing her red hair back from her face.

Theresa stopped and frowned. Hmmm, all her readers knew about Jack’s characteristic spy watch.  Wouldn’t that catch in Sarah’s hair? Should she have him take it off? Maybe she was over thinking this. Just leave it for now, you can edit later.

His hands pulled her closer as he tilted her face to his, caressing her cheek and their lips touched at last.  Their kiss deepened and one hand traced the curve of her back as the other caressed her soft hair. She shivered sensuously as he reached into her blouse and cupped one breast.

Theresa stopped again, frowning more deeply. One two, three, well, now it sounds like he has three hands. That won’t work. She hit the delete key several times and took a deep sip of her tea.

… caressed her soft hair. Jack put both his arms around her, lifting her up to him. Sarah wrapped her legs around his waist and together they headed to the bed ,kissing and touching each other passionately.

Theresa exhaled. Okay, he can’t pick her up, carry her and still be touching her and kissing her. She tried to get a mental image of the procedure. Yeah, she said to herself, I don’t think so. Maybe just skip to the bed? She hit the delete key several more times.

… touched at last. Without a word they moved together toward the waiting bed. As Jack gathered her in his arms her Sarah felt such desire…

Theresa broke off again. She groaned. At some point, surely, they needed to lose their clothes. Should that be in bed or before the bed? Taking off clothes in bed is always so awkward. Underwear gets caught around an ankle or you toss a bra and the strap hits the guy in the face. No, better lose the clothes before the bed. She highlighted and deleted.

…Without a word he began unbuttoning her blouse and she loosened his belt. As one by one their clothes fell to the ground Sarah was overcome with desire for him. Jack’s body was everything she had hoped for. They embraced and Sarah gloried in the feel of him pressed against her, his lean muscles against her soft curves. Her thighs seemed to part almost of their own volition at the exquisite feel of his hard …

Theresa smacked her hand against her forehead. This was never going to work; Jack’s 6’4” and Sarah’s 5’ 1”. His penis would practically be at her chest, not her thighs. She was the author. Did the laws of physics really need to apply here? Maybe she could just waive them?

…she had hoped for. With as much effort as scooping up a kitten Jack swung Sarah in his arms and laid her down on the waiting bed. He lay down beside her and passionately pulled her on top of him.  Her thighs seemed to part almost of their own volition at the exquisite feel of his hard…

“Hmmm,” mused Theresa out loud. “His hard what?” She squinted at the screen. Leaning back, she considered her options. Dick? Too boring. Cock? Too “Dear Penthouse Forum”. Did they still do Penthouse Forum? She could Google it? Nah, better focus. His hard member? Sounds like he’s in a tough club. His penis? Too clinical. His Willie, Johnson, or Peter? Now I’m just introducing new characters. His love shaft? Too romance novel-y. His throbbing wand of power. She giggled. Maybe not. 

Theresa bit her lip. An idea burgeoned. Perhaps? Hmm, yes, definitely the way to go.

“I’ve waited too long,” he murmured as his lips grazed her neck.

“We’ve waited long enough,” she whispered, pressing herself to him.

He ran his hands through her long, loose locks, pushing her red hair back from her upturned face. They kissed passionately and Jack asked, “Will you stay the night darling?”

Sarah smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Theresa exhaled. “Whew!” she said to her watching cat, “I’m glad that’s over!”

And scene.

I would like to tip my hat to all the romance novelists of the world. Sex scenes are not for the faint of heart. There are several pitfalls other than the issues of physics, anatomy, under garments and vocabulary that I’ve detailed above.  For example, one doesn’t want to include certain maneuvers that one habitually does in real life because, well, T.M.I. On the other hand, one can’t include really freaky things either because naturally everyone else will assume that the author actually does these things. Hey, that can get awkward the next time you meet at the supermarket.

Here’s a bit about my book (which, yes, does include sex scenes) The Dragon in The Garden:

There is magic beneath the mundane and in The Dragon in the Garden, Siobhan Orsini witnesses it all. No lie can fool her, no glamour or illusion can cloud her Sight. She sees through them all and wishes she could close her eyes. Returning to face her past, Siobhan inherits her grandparents’ house in California’s wine country. She encounters a talking dragon, a hot fallen angel, a demon lord, a Valkyrie, and, oh yes, her ex-boyfriend. And that is just in the first twenty-four hours. 

It’s time to find out why she has this power. 

Siobhan seeks out the Oracle and learns that only her Sight can help mankind navigate the travails of an ancient war. Our world is the prize in a battle between the dragons, who would defend us, and Lucifer’s fallen angels, who seek to take the Earth for themselves. Using her gift, she will have to make a choice that will decide humanity’s future.

This post was written by Erika Gardner. She’s a native Californian, lifelong lover of fantastical adventures, and a dedicated Whovian.  If you enjoyed it, please sign up to receive updates on   Or you can follow Erika on Twitter @Erika_Gardner, “Like” her Facebook page Erika Gardner- Writer and Storyteller. Or check out her contributions to the BBB Blog.

Monday, 15 February 2016

Spliced Blog Tour Day Two

Welcome to Outrageous! We have four authors here today who have written a unique series about shifters. Dish the dirt, ladies!

Do you have plans to write any more Spliced stories?

Sarah – I’ve started one already. Tigorilla, about Armin, a German splicer, who meets up with Benjamin, a wolf shifter. I won’t say any more than that for now, but the story woke me at four in the morning, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I had to get up and write the prologue. I love it when that happens. It means the story will flow when I’m writing, and there’ll be none of that infuriating stalling business where I stare at the screen and try to force words out. I usually walk away at that point, but with Sharkorilla, I was able to keep going because I enjoyed the idea of that world so much. Plus, working with three other authors means you’re all in it together, your work reflects on each other, so I want to create a good book for them as well as readers.

Lavinia - Definitely! I’ve got a Bearorilla story in my head that just won’t leave me alone; in fact, I’ve already started work on it and hope to finish it as soon as I’m done with my other commitments.

Lily - Oh yes, there are many more of these poor spliced souls that need saving. The plot lines are endless, and fun, and oh, so sexy. Plus we can have the characters travel the globe in their search for acceptance and love and their mates.

Jambrea - I would love to. There is so much we can do with the series.

Did you worry about reader reactions to your Spliced Four?

Sarah – At first, yes. I know, being a realist, that the idea of a man being part gorilla, part something else was a stretch of the imagination. Once we started writing and sharing our stories as we went along, though, I knew we had nothing to worry about. Unless I’m biased lol. There will be folks who don’t like our shifters, but as with any book, some people enjoy them, some don’t. But…there will be many, please God, who do like them and fall in love with our boys as much as we did. I have a really big soft spot for this series.

Lavinia - I did. My main concern was that people wouldn’t take the stories seriously. Even though they are the product of a few hours of fun between friends, there is definitely a serious side to the stories. The shifters have a lot of anxiety about how they will be perceived in the outside world. Will they fit in? Will people ridicule them? Will they ever find love when they look the way they do in their shifted form? So yes, readers’ reactions were a concern. There is a little humor in the stories, but there’s also a lot of heart.

Lily - No, I think readers of paranormal are pretty open minded when it comes to shifters, and who is to say, if shifters exist in their suspension of disbelief that spliced shifters can’t? The stories were fun to plot but they come with serious eroticism and handle issues of acceptance and self-belief.

Jambrea - Not really. I think readers are always looking for new and interesting books to read.

Here are the blurbs!

Spliced Series:

When scientists mess with the most primitive elements of a man’s core, the results are bound to be explosive.

Living a loveless existence is hard for any shifter, but having DNA spliced with creatures who stand out from the crowd is damn near impossible. Which is why four experimented-on souls decide to break free from the chains that hold them, climb the fences that circle them, and go in search of adventure, passion and most of all, their mates.

But nothing worth having is ever easy, and for Sharkorilla, Pugorilla, Kangorilla and Elephorilla, this is definitely the case. They’ve come to the end of one very long, hard and frustrating road, but now, with the help of men who have big hearts, they must shed their fears, accept their bodies, and be true to the desires that burn within them. The only problem is, will they get away with it?

Please note, Spliced can be enjoyed as individual stories, but reading in order enhances the pleasure as you get to see the progression of the shifter's sexy adventures.

Sharkorilla – Mason has been tasked with the job of helping his fellow shifters escape from the compound. Two techs need his help to ensure the breakout goes smoothly. One of those techs, Brennan, has a thing for Mason—and Mason has a thing for Brennan too.

Once Mason and his three friends are out of the compound, running for their lives across the expanse of the Yorkshire Moors, Mason wonders whether they’ll manage to be free for more than the time it takes to speed farther than a few feet. Freedom—the feeling of it is addictive, and Mason wants more of it. He isn’t prepared to give it up without a fight.

With Brennan by his side, Mason knows he can accomplish anything. There is one burning question, though. Can Mason really accept who he is? Can he learn to love himself as half shark, half gorilla? If he doesn’t, he has a feeling life won’t be all roses, despite being free of the compound.

So, he’ll just have to give his new life his best shot, won’t he?

Pugorilla - After being created in a lab, his DNA spliced with both canine and primate genes, Dex has spent his entire life locked up. He has always longed to see the outside world and to find lasting love with that one special person—dreams he never thought would come to fruition. Yet when he and his friends discover a plot to kill them all, they have no choice but to plan an escape. A life outside the walls of their compound is everything that Dex has ever hoped for, but there’s only one problem—James, a lab technician who Dex can’t seem to get out of his heart or head.

Kangorilla – Joey has it tough. Not only has he been spliced with a kangaroo and a gorilla, he’s also been brought to the other side of the world. Feeling exploited, desperate and wishing he had love, companionship and acceptance, he takes the risk of leaving the compound in the search of happiness. But will he find it? Or has the person he’s drawn to got other ideas? It certainly seems that way as the temperature goes from boiling hot to downright frosty.

Elephorilla - George hates change, but when his only two options are death or escape, he runs away with his friends into the unknown. Will he be able to find not only a new life, but a new love?

Sunday, 14 February 2016


Fancy something different this Valentine's Day? Why not grab a copy of hot-off-the press new shifter series SPLICED?

Find out more on the official website and immerse yourself in a sexy world of MM shifters who are on the run and on the hunt for their mates.

Saturday, 13 February 2016

The End! Finito! Done!

His Possession is off to my editor folks. Pre-order available here. Below is an excerpt from Raze's point of view.

Once inside the small kitchen I went to the cupboard where I knew the fucking booze was kept. I grabbed the first bottle of unopened whisky and started to reach for a glass before deciding I didn’t need it. I fucking needed more than a shot to fuel me for what I wanted to do to Rosa. I couldn’t let her get to me. I wouldn’t. We may never have acted on our feelings for each other, but we both had known they were there.

Well, the time for acknowledgement had fucking lapsed. Her betrayal sealed her fate and I was ready to make her pay. I downed about three shots worth, letting the raw burn settling in my gut fuel my hate. Running the back of my hand across my mouth I headed for the bedroom where Rosa was locked up, thinking about her pretty face as she sat on the stand condemning me. Hearing her tearful words when she’d sworn that I had done the killing, and recalling the silent plea in her eyes as she stared at me. I understood then that she didn’t believe what she was saying, yet it hadn’t stopped her from lying.

I came to her door, turned the lock and opened it. Rosa turned from the window she’d been staring out of, tear tracks lining her smooth, olive toned cheeks. Even in her disheveled state she was fucking beautiful. Her midnight hair was shiny and half tumbling down to her shoulders. I let my gaze wander lazily down her full curves, taking in the slight changes since I’d seen her last. She was soft, and ripe, and I was going to devour her.

She took a hesitant step toward me. “How many men have you fucked Rosa?” I asked from the doorway. My question startled her and she halted abruptly. I could see the confusion shimmering in her eyes. Her brows furrowed. Those sweet, full lips parted as she opened her mouth to answer, only nothing came out.

“How many men have been between your legs in the last three years?” I snarled, baring my teeth. She stepped back against the window in fear.

She began to shake her head. “No one,” she whispered. “There’s been no one since—”

“I was locked up?”

Tears swelled in her fucking eyes. “Raze, I’m so sorry—”

“No!” I was on her before she could finish. “You don’t fuckin’ get to say sorry as if that will make it all go away,” I gritted into her upraised face, upraised because my hand was in her hair, pulling her head back so she was forced to look into my eyes. “Three fucking years, Rosa. For three fucking years your lies kept me behind bars, kept me from my club.” I swung her around and crushed her against the window, moving my mouth next to her ear. “Kept me from fucking.”

Keeping her pinned, I reached for the zipper at the top of her dress and pulled it all the way down her back. When it stopped at the top of her luscious ass I took the parted material in my hands and ripped it the rest of the way open until her whole fucking backside was exposed. I ignored her gasp, taking in the smooth slopes of her rounded ass, naked because of the thong she had on. Lust slammed into me like a freight train at the sight of all that curvy flesh. I wanted to squeeze it until she was branded with the imprint of my hand, leaving no doubt who she fucking belonged to.

How many times over the last decade had I imagined fucking Rosa?

“Then I guess we’re both overdo, “I grated into her ear. Not even trying to calm the lust surging through my blood.

“No, Raze, please. Not like this,” she begged. She tried to twist away.

I easily kept her where I wanted, not letting her tearful plea stop me from doing what I wanted.

“I had my reason for what I did,” Rosa said softly, her tone conveying a resigned sadness I wanted to ignore.

“So do I,” I snarled. “It was a life sentence, Rosa. Your lies put me in prison for life, with no chance of parole. You’re just lucky three years is all I lost, and now you’re gonna pay.”

*Excerpt unedited and not finalized

Friday, 12 February 2016

Guest Blogger: Mary O'Sullivan - The Bottom Line

The best advice I ever received as a writer was to apply the seat of my pants to a chair, pen to paper, and write. That was a long time ago. The technology has changed but the essence of the advice is still the same – stop talking about writing, sit down and do it.

So you get an idea for a novel. You let it stew in your head for a while. It develops characters, plots, begins to nag you into solidifying the idea into words, the words into a story. Eventually the day comes when you sit in front of your computer, open up a blank document and start typing. Enthusiasm will fuel you to begin a novel. The words flow, hours race by as the story clamours to be put on screen. Suddenly you realise you have forgotten to eat lunch. No time to cook, you shove some meat and mayo between two slices of bread , or maybe just pour some cereal into a bowl .You bring the food back to your desk , worried that inspiration will dry up if you leave your work for more than five minutes. You sit again .And eat. And type. And sit.

It has been my experience that the frenetic activity of novel beginnings soon fades away. Three thousand flowing words per writing session becomes three hundred words wrung out with blood sweat and tears. I always start my mornings by editing what I wrote the day before. During this slow phase of novel writing, which I think of as the settling in period, it often happens that I delete two hundred, or even all, of the previous day’s work. This is the stage I know that enthusiasm is not enough. Discipline, that glowering, ram rod straight, lettuce eating, old bore must be brought to bear. Without it, doubtless the story would never be finished. So I dutifully sit and stare as I produce a sentence in one hour , delete it the next, make sandwiches , pour cereal. Sit. And eat. And stare. And sit.

Once the words start to flow again, it’s all guns blazing towards the halfway point. I know every author’s experience is different , but I find I hit a dip at the 70,000 word mark. Treacherous doubt begins to nag. That sinister internal voice begins to whisper that the story is no good. In fact it’s rubbish and it had better be got rid of it before anyone sees it. I would be a laughing stock. My confidence drifts away. I sit and stare at the screen, debating between deletion or reconstructing it entirely from the beginning. Hunger gnaws but I know if I leave the desk long enough to cook a proper meal, I may never go back there again. So I grab a bar of chocolate. Comfort food. I sit. And eat. And draw comfort from the chocolate. And sit.

That phase eventually over, I knock sparks out of the keyboard. The writing hours become even longer. I belt out chapters, afraid to stop in case I lose the flow. In a chocolate, cereal and sandwich fuelled frenzy, me and my characters hurtle towards ‘The End’. I am so tired at the end of each day that it feels as if I have climbed a mountain. But of course I have not. I have been eating. And sitting. And then doing eating and sitting all over again.

Even as I type the magic words, ‘The End’, I know this is just another beginning. I must start again at Chapter One , deleting, correcting, tightening up , sending characters on a different course , realising that blue eyes in chapter two had become green eyes in chapter eleven , that a ‘there’ and a ‘their’ had been mixed up . This self-editing is very demanding. Some of my favourite, and over- used, words have to hit the deck. My mother told me my first word was ‘now’. I still love it and use it all the time. It’s such a versatile word, adaptable to many situations, but it really doesn’t need to be in every second sentence. And so I sit and edit. And grab some quick food. And sit.

Next stage, after two edits, is to print out the story. Strange how different a story reads on screen and on the printed page. I always pick up errors in print I would have missed on screen. Perhaps it has something to do with the speed your eye scans the screen as against the page. Whatever the reason, this is a process I find very necessary before I can finally say I have done my best for my story and my characters. And so I sit , in an arm chair this time , the manuscript on the coffee table beside me , red pen in hand , and trawl through it page by page. I sit and read. And have coffee and cake. And sit.

I have a theory that the story is never ready until you hate it because you have gone through it so often. When that happens, you let it go. Submit it to strangers to be completely ignored, rejected or accepted. As my work goes off to make its own way in the world, I finally stand up. It’s such a surprise to realise I am twice the woman I was when I started on Chapter One. Small wonder , since I have spent the best part of the year sitting at my desk, grabbing quick food every so often and chocolate in times of dire need . I must have known what was happening when I put my jeans away to the back of the wardrobe and began wearing jog pants with elasticated waists instead.

I promise myself that if I ever write another book, I will exercise assiduously and eat properly. But I know for sure, if inspiration comes calling, I will sit at my desk and work my way through from enthusiastic beginning to exhausted end.

Thank you to outrageousgirlrants for hosting me on their blogspot and also to Lucy Felthouse (Writer Marketing Services) for organising my visit here.


Excerpt from Thicker Than Water

Here, in Rainbow Cottage high up over Ballyderg town, Jan had found relaxation. Ever since she could remember, possibly since she had been born, she was driven by an inner spring of energy that constantly bubbled up. She was always on the go. Tasks to be completed, decisions to be made, energy to be burned up. It was these hills, the still and brooding giants with wispy cloud hair, which first soothed her into sometimes slowing down. Changes swirled around them, the seasons, the weather, light and dark, but their core stood firm against outside influence. Eventually she had absorbed that lesson.

From the plate glass window of the lounge she watched a car wind its way up from the valley. She went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle, knowing from experience that the green tea they both enjoyed would be brewed by the time he arrived at the cottage.

Gerard Shannon parked in his usual place ten minutes climb on foot to Jan’s cottage. He stood and inhaled deeply before striding out. He always enjoyed the exercise but today he felt breathless, tormented, an iron band of tension squeezing his chest. If only the success and control he had in his business life applied to his private life also. If only he had been honest all those years ago. If only he could be honest now.



When local teenager, Keira Shannon and her father, business man Gerard Shannon, go missing, the town of Ballyderg unites to search for them.

As the search continues rumours of domestic violence, extramarital affairs and criminal behaviour are rife. The crisis causes families and lifelong friends to doubt each other.

The only certainty left is that the town has been visited by evil. Or has it? Could it be the evil one has always lived there sharing history, laughter and tears? And if so, who could it be?

Buy Links

Amazon buy links:

Tirgearr Publishing

Amazon Author Page:


Author Biography:

Mary worked many years as a Laboratory Technician. Her hobby, her passion, has always been writing. Busy with family and career, she grabbed some moments here and there to write poetry and short stories. She also wrote a general interest column in a local newspaper.

As the demands on her time became more manageable she joined a local creative writing class. It was then, with the encouragement of tutor Vincent McDonald, that the idea of writing a novel took shape. She began to expand on a short story she had written some years previously. It was a shock for her to discover that enthusiasm and imagination are not enough. For the first time she learned that writing can be very hard work.

Mary now has six traditionally published novels, nine eBooks and hopefully more to come, inspiration permitting.

Social Media Links

Please visit my web page at:

Chat to me on Facebook at:

Follow on Twitter at:



Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here:
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Monday, 8 February 2016

Alpha Fever Pre-Order Blitz and Giveaway

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Alpha Fever is filled with a scintillating, spicy blend of ***BRAND NEW*** contemporary and paranormal romance stories written by 24 NY Times, USA Today, and Amazon best selling Authors wrapped up in one amazing boxed set!

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