Sunday, July 30, 2017

#AuthorLove #romance #anthology by award winning authors @sbuchbinder

Don't we all love a boxed set? I know I do! All in for Love is written by Six Award Winning Authors.  

An Inn Decent Proposal By Sharon Buchbinder
Perfect Odds By Lashanta Charles
A Ghost To Die For By Keta Diablo
Raising Kane By Kat Henry Doran
For Money Or Love By Margo Hoornstra
Take A Chance On Me By M.J. Schiller

Six award-winning authors bring you six *sweet to sensual* romances filled with suspense, thrills and maybe even a ghost or two—for less than the price of a cup of coffee—99 cents!
Welcome to La Bonne Chance Resort & Casino!
With thousands of people passing through the casino’s doors on a daily basis, it’s no surprise that a variety of lives and loves are on the line there. It’s said that you’re more likely to lose your heart at La Bonne Chance than a hand of poker. Whether you are the Director of Casino Operations or the guy who created its software, a jilted bride or a black jack dealer, a past guest’s ghost or a sous chef--when it comes to love, the stakes are high.
Thank goodness what happens at La Bonne Chance, doesn’t always stay at La Bonne Chance….
Ready to roll the dice?
An Inn Decent Proposal, Sharon Buchbinder
Can an hotelier with a past and a chef with a future revive the grand dame in a neglected old inn?

Perfect Odds, Lashanta Charles
When a jilted bride meets the man of her dreams, will she embrace the new plan, or cling stubbornly to the old one?

A Ghost To Die For, Keta Diablo
She didn't believe in ghosts...until one showed up in her room.

Raising Kane, Kat Henry Doran
Funny how a night in jail will change a woman's outlook on life.

For Money Or Love, Margo Hoornstra
She's the one woman he can't afford to lose.

Take A Chance On Me, M.J. Schiller
Who do you count on when the chips are down?

* * *
Excerpt from An Inn Decent Proposal by Sharon Buchbinder
Post auction, a stunned Jim Rawlings and excited Genie King go to a coffee house. Overwhelmed with self-doubts, Jim begins to question his sanity.
 “Why did you want this place?”
“The old girl called to me, begged me to save her.” He gave Genie a wistful smile. “Do I sound crazy?”
“You call the Inn ‘she,’ too?”
“Yes, she’s like a grand old dame who’s fallen on hard times.  Remember the parties? The famous people who stayed and played there? Celebrities came to the Inn because they knew their privacy and secrets were safe with us. If those walls could talk!  Every day was new and exciting. I would love to bring back her glory days.”
Genie leaped up, ran around the table and hugged him. “I have the same dream. We can do it.”
He hesitated for a moment, then returned the gesture, his hands unable to resist lingering on her luscious curves just a tad too long. Genie’s inviting cleavage made him wish they were somewhere private. He could scarcely breathe and had to shake his head to dispel naughty images of nuzzling her soft breasts. “We can do what?”
She sat down again, but clung to his hands. “I’ve done the research. The Inn should be in the National Park Service Historic Registry—but it isn’t. If we can get her added to the Registry, there are laws and standards about how we make the rehabilitation. We can bring it up to modern codes, but have to use certain treatments—”
“I hate to burst your bubble, but where will we get the money to do all this?” He wasn’t sure he could afford too many more big gambles like this last one.
Her face flushed and her sapphire blue eyes sparkled. “If we can get her added to the Registry, we’ll qualify for special low interest loans. And for a major tax credit. And we have a million dollars in equity.”
“Pretty, smart—and you say you can cook? If you can do all that, you are a genie.”
She released his hands, pulled her shoulders back, and inadvertently gave him a better glimpse of her bosom. Genie gave him a scalding look. “Are you challenging my cooking, Mr. Rawlings?”
Uh-oh. He never dreamed of Genie having a little temper. He couldn’t resist tweaking her. “I’m sure you’re a solid cook.”
She stood, almost knocking her chair over. “Solid? What the hell does that mean? Average? Good enough to make the turkey for Thanksgiving dinner for the family—but not good enough to cook for guests? Tell you what, Mr. Critic, you come to my house for dinner tomorrow night.” She scribbled her address on a business card and threw it on the table. “My food makes men go weak at the knees.”
Hypnotized by the sway of her voluptuous ass as she stalked out of the nearly empty café, Jim bet it wasn’t just this saucy woman’s cooking that made strong men weak.

Sharon Buchbinder has been writing fiction since middle school and has the rejection slips to prove it. An RN, she provided health care delivery, became a researcher, association executive, and obtained a PhD in Public Health. When not teaching or writing, she can be found fishing, walking her dogs, or breaking bread and laughing with family and friends in Baltimore, MD and Punta Gorda, FL.

Author Links
Facebook: Sharon Buchbinder Romance Author
Twitter ID @sbuchbinder

Saturday, July 29, 2017

#amwriting #Tirgearr #AuthorTips How to Write Love Scenes for Romance

Today I'm sharing tips on how to write love scenes.  Making love is an action scene, and a sequel follows a scene. Does intimacy complicate and add tension to your story?

What conflict opposes your heroine and hero? Does someone interpret incorrectly, fear risking rejection, or suffer embarrassment because of attraction? Tension brings on urgency and increases reader interest.
As a writer your own heart has to race. An honest scene means you have to be comfortable where they are. Inside or outside of the bedroom, a character’s vulnerability quickens the heartbeat. Imagine yourself in the place of your lovers, and write scenes that ignite your own passion. What about the backseat of a car, in a tent, in a public bathroom, or bare in the moonlight?  Creating excitement is fun writing.
The individuality of your characters must shine during a love scene. Is she shy and tongue tied? Or is it him to keeps his feelings inside? That trait can bring on unspoken emotions. One might be open, but the other might see some hurt behind the surface. Allow them to figure each other out. Your hero and heroine drive the love scene in an appropriate-to-them way. earth.
Are the lovers competitors for a position or prize? Let them talk or not talk about “the bone between two dogs.” Perhaps she kids him by saying she’ll win, and he says she’s way too confident.  Deep down he might think she deserves to win. Conflict raises tension and adds excitement but also in the love scene. Conflict keeps them apart when they are attracted and value each other more. They block the way to each other’s success. Do they learn one of them might be without a job or go to prison?
Deep point of view is using contrast between spoken dialog and spoken words. What she says is not the truth. If she says, “Don’t touch me,” she’s thinking don’t stop. Add actions to reveal genuine feelings. He stares and doesn’t look away even when something else is going on around them. Will they or won’t they stay together?
Euphoria increases a lover's five senses. Everything is enhanced when falling in love. Colors are brighter.  A song has more clarity. Smells and tastes make them unforgettable. He’s intoxicated by her scent, and his manly scent gives her an electric charge.  Add sensory details such as his breath ruffling her hair. Is there sunlight, rain or a breeze? Does the lover hear the rhythm of a stream? A setting might underscore the moods. Does he stare through a rain-drenched window when she races out to her car?
Do high-low status issues surround them? Keep differences obvious with love scenes, action, and verbal innuendos. What makes them nervous or protective? Do they become more relaxed as they come to understand each other? They begin talking with more tenderness which leads to feelings of commitment.

A lovely setting draws the reader. Brevity wins. Remember, a love scene is not an article on decorating or a manual on body parts. If you write sweet romance, her hand can inch down his chest, and she gasps with anticipation. You might use words such as deeper and lower without mentioning specific body parts. For steamy or erotic, authors mention physical attributes such as her swollen nub and his erection. In all heat levels focus on sexy curves and his rougher masculinity. Maintain thoughts preserving your characters. Add close calls and risks. Readers enjoy surprises. A final love scene with affection and resolution ends your romantic story.

Monday, July 24, 2017

#amwriting #MondayMotivation #AuthorTips How harmful is too much sitting?

Sitting for long periods of time has been linked to a number of health concerns, including obesity, heart disease and even cancer. How long do you sit at the computer?

The Mayo Clinic advises us to read this: According to one study, people who spend more than four hours a day in front of a screen have a higher risk of early death in general and a higher risk of events related to heart disease, such as chest pain or heart attack.
But sitting in front of the TV isn't the only concern. Any extended sitting — such as behind a desk at work or behind the wheel — can be harmful. What's more, even fitting in some moderate or vigorous activity doesn't seem to significantly offset the risk of sitting most of the time.
The solution? Sit less and move more overall. You might start by simply standing rather than sitting whenever you have the chance.
For example:
  • Stand while talking on the phone or eating lunch.
  • If you work at a desk for long periods of time, try a standing desk — or improvise with a high table or counter.

Better yet, think about ways to walk while you work:
  • Walk laps with your colleagues rather than gathering in a conference room for meetings.
  • Position your work surface above a treadmill — with a computer screen and keyboard on a stand or a specialized treadmill-ready vertical desk — so that you can be in motion throughout the day.

The impact of movement — even leisurely movement — can be profound. For starters, you'll burn more calories. This can lead to weight loss and increased energy.

Plus, the muscle activity needed for standing and other movement seems to trigger important reactions related to the breakdown of fats and sugars within the body. When you sit, these responses stall — and your health risks increase. When you're standing or actively moving, you kick the processes back into action.

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

#BookQW Knowing he came was #perfect. Prequel to Unholy Alliance from #Tirgearrpublishing

Knowing he showed up was perfect. As perfect as biting into an apple while looking across a field into the horizon. Tori hadn’t done that in ten years. (Never before published-- Unholy Alliance prequel.

“Hello. Do you remember me?” Attorney Grady Donahue Fletcher rehearsed what he’d soon say to his client, Victoria Morningstar. He had initiated her appeal, and now drove to consult with her. “I’m Finn’s cousin, a lawyer with the Prisoners Defense Committee. You will not be placed in solitary anytime soon.” No. Not sure what this means
When was a July morning this hot? Sweat blossomed on his throbbing forehead, wrapped like a python. He adjusted the dial for the AC and embraced the challenge. Embrace and conquer. Or at least sound like it.
Grady didn’t necessarily believe in heaven, but suppose such a place existed and he was eligible for entry when his time came? He expected it’d look like a courtroom where he won the next appeal.
Victoria Morningstar, a sentenced felon, awaited transfer to solitary confinement at a private prison, a worse place than where she was now, the Gladstone. The mobster’s daughter, Tori Rourke, took Morningstar as her surname. She’d run from the Irish mob but couldn’t hide. With no patience for those who leave its ranks, the mob had framed her.
His most recent client, Tyrone Marquis, black and poor, worked at a poultry plant where he’d plucked, hacked, and processed thousands of chickens. Marquis had written a bad check and had committed a petty theft. The court sentenced him to die in prisonHow can the court do that? The sentence is clearly excessive for the crime which makes it hard to believe. When Grady believed in the falsely accused, he fought hard from a deep pit. He won this man’s appeal.
Poor and black did not describe Tori, born into an Irish crime family but in essence was marginalized and excluded.
His cousin, Finbar Donahue, managed the trust accounts for the Rourke offspring. In spite of Finn’s hostile relationship with the mob, he’d followed Tori’s murder trial.
Finn had guilted Grady into appealing her case. “She’s a fringe relative. Okay. Not by blood, but come on.” Finn’s words landed like punches, sapped his resistance. His shoulders ached from the task.
The closer he got to the maximum-security complex, the more his heart pounded with blood pressure exploding like a grenade. Thump thump. He scrambled for his game face.
He turned off Highway 5 and onto the stark, industrial City Drive of Orange, California. Sunlight reflected off a homeless man’s shopping cart and the broken glass in the gutter. A jaywalker lunged across the street. Grady swung the steering wheel to miss him, tires squealing over the concrete. Ahead at the red stoplight, three kids, about the age of his son, crossed the street on their way to school. They jabbered in Spanish and giggled in an universal language. A sharp-edged thought boiled up.
Grady’s rancorous custody battle continued post-divorce. The determined dad had relocated to be closer to seven-year-old Parker. How long would his job-hopping ex-wife stay here? He stuffed a wishful dream to coach soccer into the caverns of his mind.
Ahead, a sign marked the penitentiary run by the most hard-hearted Godzillas of the human race. A shrill hiss grew to an ear-piercing whistle. At its command, prisoners rose at sunrise and appeared at their cell doors. Doors opened, and they stood on the threshold. “Right face.” All wheeled to the right. “March!” Without energy, the inmates zombied along for two hours of labor before breakfast. They made license plates, jeans, jackets, T-shirts, and hats. They worked in the laundry room, kitchen, or in the sewing room where they cut, basted, and stitched.
Color televisions, said to be available for viewing by those who earned the privilege, amounted to one set per eighty offenders. In the dayroom, they watched a nine-inch screen while seated on metal benches bolted to the floor. Correctional officers held remote controls and flipped through basic networks, sports, and educational channels. From there prisoners marched to dinner, out in the yard, and then back to cramped stone cells.
On the bright side, according to his cousin Finn, Tori took college classes. She’d spent her college years in prison.
Ahead, the Gladstone Penitentiary brooded on its hill. Beige stucco rectangles, complete with a tower, were perched on the banks of the dry Santa Ana River bed. Gladstone’s ten acres housed three and a half thousand inmates. He passed a complex for foster children. A knot formed in his stomach over its unfortunate location and similar architecture.
Grady’s experience with appeals was going on two years, and the details of each stood sharp in his mind. Nothing blurred into another. He checked his wristwatch. Nine o’clock, opening time.
He pulled up to the guard tower and spun down his window to a blast of blistering heat. “Good morning, sir.” He handed his ID to a guard, and squinted through the bleak dust.
The guard leaned out, sleeves rolled up to relieve the swelter.
“Hot enough for you?”
“Nice in here.” The guard tipped his head as a signal to proceed into the lot.
Oblivious to surveillance cameras, cooing pigeons scratched around the lawyers’ entrance. From there Grady strode down a tunneled corridor toward the legal visitation area. Each step echoed on the tiled floor all the way to an officer in a tan uniform.
The unfamiliar man inspected him, eyeballing him up and down.
Grady wore the only suit he owned, and it’d seen better days.
The officer stared hard at his driver’s license and looked up. “You’re not local.”
“I’m local now. The DMV notes an address change but doesn’t issue a new driver’s license.”
“Still adding that to my paperwork.” The officer’s voice trailed.
Grady’s cellphone pinged. Unease washed up the back of his throat, and he pulled it from his pocket. Maeve, his private investigator, had sent him a text.
“I’m onto something.” His mid-sixties, widowed assistant let him know when she stepped out, and the answering machine at his nonprofit picked up calls. The phone rang every couple of hours at his office in the waterfront neighborhood of Long Beach. There, he provided free legal services to condemned men and women and busted his butt getting grants and federal funding. He dropped his cell and wristwatch into a wire basket.
The officer cleared his throat and dialed the warden to confirm his scheduled visit. He stood to admit Grady, brusquely directing him to a small room. “Don’t get lost. We don’t come looking for you in the hard center.” The man referred to the ancient part of the jail. Visitors never entered the hidden passageways.
Grady entered the visitation room, an empty cage. Wire mesh ran from a small ledge to the twelve-foot ceiling. Family members and inmates sat on opposite sides of the mesh wall and spoke to one another through the wires. For his legal contact visit, he and Tori would be on the same side of the room to permit more privacy.
In the secured space, he eased onto a stool, bolted to the floor, and waited with an anxious lump growing in his chest. He had an hour and hoped to fill fifteen minutes. A clanging of chains came from the other side of the door.
Tori shuffled in, glanced at him, and screwed her face into a worried wince. She averted her gaze when he looked at her and didn’t move far from the room’s entrance.
Damage ebbs its way in. Years pass without pleasant times. A decade ago, he’d met her at Finn and Amy’s wedding. Imagery flooded in. Her playful shoulders, her blue sleeveless sheath, her gaze that could melt teeth, her playful shoulders.
Now, in her thirties, she groomed her dark brown hair as best as she could, slicked into a ponytail. She hovered at five-foot-four, medium build, and pretty in spite of the orange prison garb. Without it, she’d be someone he’d talk to, as he had at the Lake Arrowhead wedding.
The guard unchained her, removed her handcuffs and the shackles around her ankles, and then locked angry eyes with him. “You’ve got one hour.” The officer grinned before turning to leave. He seemed to sense that Grady and the prisoner were nervous and took pleasure in their discomfort. The metal door banged behind him and reverberated in the small space.
Tori didn’t come any closer. He didn’t know what else to do, so he ambled over and offered her his hand. “Hello, Tori.”
“Mr. Fletcher.” She slipped her hand into his and gave it a firm shake.
“Call me Grady.” He released her hand. “We met at my cousin Finn’s wedding.”
“Oh, yes. It was grand.” Ireland whiffed into her second-generation voice, like smoke from a distant campfire.
“You go by Victoria Morningstar.”
“I prefer that name now.” She tipped her chin up to face him. “At the wedding, I wore a wig.”
“You were in hiding—”
“—from the terrorist gang.”
“Takbir did not railroad you.”
“No, but they slit...” Her voice trailed off. She stiffened her back, clenched her fists at her sides. Anyone growing up in a gang family knew how to kill. Irish Waterfront Roaches terrorized Long Beach. She ran a hand over her delicate chin, her golden-brown eyes narrowing with worry.
He cleared his throat, feeling the weight of her predicament. “I’m very sorry.” Despite rehearsed remarks, he couldn’t stop himself from apologizing. “I’m pretty new at this kind of thing. I can’t tell you much. Don’t know much.” He gestured toward a stool. After she eased into it, he sat opposite.
Once again, she looked away, released a sigh, but looked back at him. “You’re here. Working my appeal.”
“I am. You’re not at risk of going to solitary confinement soon. I’m appealing your conviction and sentence. We can work on finding you an experienced criminal lawyer if you want. For the next few months, I’m happy to help. There are things I can do.”
She grabbed his hands. “I won’t go to the other prison for a while?”
“Correct. Not while I’m appealing.”
She squeezed his hands tighter and tighter. “Thank you, Grady. I mean, really, I appreciate it. This is great news.” Her shoulders relaxed, and she gazed at him with intense relief in her amber eyes. “Finn phones, but you’re my first visitor in over a year. I’m so glad to get this news.” She exhaled a long breath.
“I’m sorry about your brother.” The murders took place in Ireland after Finn and Amy’s California wedding.
“Thank you.”
Warm discomfort in his chest spread like a bad rash. He’d seen the photos from the Garda forensic team. The throats of her brother, two cousins, Finn’s biological mother, and her second husband were slit. Tori’s parents were in central Ireland during the coastal massacre. By sheer coincidence, they were not at the house.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Grief is fresh in your mind. After all this time.” He followed up with a comment.
She nodded. “No matter what they’ve done,” she said, “they’re family.”
“Where are your parents?”
“My guess? In Ireland.”
“That makes sense. People under the radar don’t cross borders.” Unease skittered along his spine over the danger she’d face if she were released. If the Irish mob found her again, they’d kill her.
She leaned forward. “Thank you for helping me.”
Astonished at her gratefulness, he began the difficult process of questioning her. “You testified to making a 911 call. Police at the scene said you lied.”
“That’s wrong, wrong, wrong. I dove under the table and made the call.” She pushed the words through her teeth. “Then I put my cell on airplane mode, stuffed it above a slat.”
“You were under it at the restaurant, Rhubarb and Ginger?”
She nodded. “In view of the goriest, most horrific beating imaginable.”
“I saw photos.”
Her eyes flew wide. “Vivienne darted to the ladies room. The hallway connects to the kitchen—”
“—and the back door leads to an alley,” he said. “Describe the table. Explain how you lodged your cell.”
“Legs of the wooden table were attached to the frame with a triangular piece.” Words gushed out of her. “I slipped it above.”
“Okay.” He pictured the location, the third table from the entrance, against the windows. This would be Maeve’s first stop tomorrow. He disentangled himself from the urgency and saw tellingher face, her expression of longing, a longing he took to heart except that Vivienne made a clean getaway. “You and Vivienne are roughly the same age.” For the short time he’d spent with them at the wedding, they seemed like opposites. “How would you describe her?”
“Vivienne has a flair for melodrama. Wasted on her usual audience.” She smiled for a brief second.
Flashes of light behind his eyes signaled a migraine coming on. A glimmer of hope did that to him. Could her cellphone still be there? He ditched that topic. “As you were saying, Vivienne entertained people. What about your families and friends?”
“Our families didn’t have friends.”
“I see.” He turned the conversation to the person they both knew, Finbar. “Much has changed. Finn went from a jaded executive to a doting husband and father.”
“Finn’s partner stole from him. He had every right to be jaded.”

Monday, July 17, 2017

#AuthorLove for Kris Bock’s #Free #Romance Adventure @kris_bock

Today I have my spotlight on Kris Bock's book, the Mad Monk's Treasure! Have you ever wondered if you could find gold in the Southwest?

“Smart romance with an ‘Indiana Jones’ feel.”

“Like Nancy Drew for grownups.”

A legendary treasure hunt in the dramatic – and deadly – New Mexico desert....

The lost Victorio Peak treasure is the greatest of treasure-hunting legends, filled with riches from a heretic Spanish priest’s gold mine, bandits, and an Apache Chief.

Erin, a shy history professor, uncovers a clue that may pinpoint the lost cave. She’s ready for adventure, but when a hit and run driver nearly kills her, she knows she’s not the only one after the treasure. And is Drew, the handsome helicopter pilot who found her bleeding in a ditch, a hero or an enemy?

Erin heads into the New Mexico wilderness with her brainy best friend Camie and a feisty orange cat, Tiger. The wilderness holds its own dangers, from wild animals to sudden storms. Meanwhile, dangerous men are on Erin’s trail, determined snatch the treasure from her grasp. How far will Erin go to find the treasure and discover what she’s really made of? And will Drew be there to help her in the end?

“The story has it all—action, romance, danger, intrigue, lost treasure, not to mention a sizzling relationship....”

“The action never stopped .... It was adventure and romance at its best.”

“I couldn’t put this book down. You’ll love it.”

This book was originally published under the title Rattled.

Fans of Mary Stewart, Barbara Michaels, and Terry Odell will enjoy these stories of love in the wild, from an award-winning author.

The Mad Monk’s Treasure Excerpt:

Among all the legends, all the fact and fiction, one story stood out. The Victorio Peak legend had it all. A Franciscan priest and a swindler. Torture, murder, a government cover-up. Where was the truth, among all the stories? Erin wanted to find out. Over time, and with Camie’s encouragement, she’d started to take the treasure hunt more seriously. It wasn’t so much for the treasure itself, which would most likely belong to the government or the landowners. But it would make her reputation, open up new job opportunities – change her life in ways she hardly dared dream.

She touched the book gently. The pages were falling out; she didn’t want to risk carrying it around. Instead, Erin snapped a picture of the petroglyphs with her phone. That would be enough to show Camie for now.

The timing was perfect; she just had to turn in grades and field a few tearful last-minute requests for extensions, and she’d be done for the semester. What better way to spend the summer, than hunting for buried treasure?

Erin shook her head. Who would’ve thought that she, the quiet, studious girl who’d spent her entire adult life in academia in one way or another, would be planning such an adventure?

 Erin wheeled the bike around the front of her house and mounted. At the corner, she paused and looked both ways. The long frontage road was dangerously narrow, with a cement wall on one side and a ditch on the other. Fortunately, traffic was normally light, and at this time of day the road lay empty. Erin pushed off, still grinning from her find. She rode on the right side, by the ditch, instead of facing traffic, because it was too frightening to ride alongside the wall when a car passed.

She’d gone a block when she heard the hum of a car engine as it pulled out from a side street behind her. She rode along the very edge of the pavement, even though the car would have plenty of room to pass her without oncoming traffic.

Erin glanced over her shoulder. The black SUV twenty feet behind her hadn’t bothered to pull out into the road at all. Jerk. When would drivers learn to share the road with bicyclists? Erin pulled onto the two-foot wide gravel strip between the pavement and the ditch. She couldn’t stop without risking a skid, but she slowed so the SUV could pass.

The engine roared. Erin glanced back again.

Black metal bore down on her. Her heart lurched and the bike wobbled. This guy was crazy! She whipped her gaze forward, rose up in the seat, and pumped the pedals with all her power, skimming along inches from the ditch. He was just trying to scare her. She’d get his license plate and—

She felt the bumper hit her back tire. The bike seemed to leap into the air, and she went flying. The dried mud and weeds of the ditch seemed to rise up to meet her.
She didn’t even have time to scream.

Get the book free at these ebook retailers:

Kris Bock writes novels of suspense and romance with outdoor adventures and Southwestern landscapes. Whispers in the Dark features archaeology and intrigue among ancient Southwest ruins. In Counterfeits, stolen Rembrandt paintings bring danger to a small New Mexico town. What We Found is a mystery with strong romantic elements about a young woman who finds a murder victim in the woods.

The Southwest Treasure Hunters novels follow strong characters hunting for long-lost treasures in the dramatic and deadly southwestern desert. Each stands alone.

Read excerpts at or visit her Amazon page. Sign up for Kris Bock newsletter for announcements of new books, sales, and more.

Find, follow, or friend the author:

Thursday, July 13, 2017

#AuthorLove exchange #newrelease #romance Tender is the Night @ChristaMaurice

Today I have my spotlight on Christa Maurice, author of Tender is the Night. I guarantee any reader will be pulled in from the beginning to the very end.

Love is a long journey.

Lisa Benedict needed a date for a bar mitzvah, but when the escort she hired arrives he’s not just good looking, he’s also kind, gentle, and protective. He makes her feel sexy again and she wants to keep him around. But she doesn’t know that the terrible abuse Gale suffered at the hands of one of the Hollywood elite keeps him from being able to trust her no matter how much he wants to.

Gale loved being with Lisa and her sons, but when she put a contract in front of him, he thought she wanted to enslave him as another woman had threatened to. He fled. Months later, with some therapy behind him, he wants to try again. Will she be willing to take him back after the way he stormed out?

And if she does, can he trust her to not reject him when she learns the truth?

“Help me, Gale Wallace. You’re my only hope.”
Gale grinned. “I love that movie.” Too bad they couldn’t stay in tonight and watch it. They could cuddle on the couch, eat popcorn, and repeat their favorite lines. He swallowed. He should not be thinking of his client as a person. It would make the whole date more difficult. But it was impossible not to, especially when she was treating him as an equal.
“Me, too. See, we already have something in common.” She set aside her glass.
“We met at the Starbucks near where you work.”
“Yes, and we ended up chatting.” She patted his knee again.
“About Star Wars.”
She laughed and it was full of joy. "Of course we did. After coffee, we decided to have lunch. My ex had the boys last weekend, so we went to Brandywine on Saturday."
“And you asked me to come with you this weekend.”
“Perfect. I did kind of invite you last Saturday.” She stroked his arm and then yanked her hand away. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to manhandle you.”
“Actually, to sell it, you will want to.” Not entirely true, but Gale was enjoying being touched by her.
“Oh good.” She rested her hand on his forearm again. “I should probably know what you do. I suppose you want to be an actor. You’re good-looking enough.”
“I tell people that I’m a model, but I do want to get into acting. What do you do?”
“I work for ABN in development picking which shows are green lit for production.”
“That sounds important.”
She shrugged. “I guess it would be if I had any power at all.”
If he leaned in right now to kiss her, what would she do? Kiss back? Slap him? Too soon to tell.

 Purchase links:

Author Bio:
Christa Maurice spends a lot of time lost in imagination. When not writing, she loves to travel and has spent several years living overseas. She spent four years living in Abu Dhabi where the temperature was always hot, the sunrise and sunset were pretty stable year ‘round and she could go weeks without speaking to a man who wasn’t selling her groceries. You know that happens to a woman living in what amounts to a harem situation? She spends a lot of time talking about shoes and thinking about men. Which brings us right back to being lost in imagination…

Author Links:
Twitter: @ChristaMaurice
Mailing list:

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

#AuthorLove thrills and chills! #vampire #romance Dark Love Rising @Danita_Minnis

Today I'm honored to turn my spotlight on 
Dark Love Rising
Danita Minnis


Former MI6 agent Xavier Quinn would say that you're daft if you think he will stop killing for a living. But that is exactly what is about to happen. Very soon now, Quinn will start killing to stay alive. On the run after taking out the wrong man, Quinn would die a happy man if he could just live long enough to ruin the Parliament member who set him up.

Layla, a 2,000 year old vampire with a moral code, has other plans for the contract killer. When she awakens to the sound of a dark rising, she enlists Quinn to join her on a mission to save humanity from her twin sister Tamara.

But Quinn is just the kind of man that a cold-blooded killer like Tamara needs in her world. A man like Quinn, who never believed in humanity, has only one belief; self-preservation. Being a vampire sounds much better than staying human in the game of kill or be killed. Will he stay alive long enough to find out how Layla's love can change the equation?


She was a beautiful cadaver. This young woman was sick.
Quinn let her go when she was able to stand on her own. She pushed glossy sheets of midnight hair out of her eyes and it fell to either side of her, like a silken shroud. He was watching that hair shimmer against her hips in a lover’s embrace when he felt her hands clamp around his neck.
He grabbed her wrists, but couldn’t break the frosted beauty’s grip on his throat.  For one unbelievable moment, he could have sworn her feet didn’t touch the ground. Her head was level with his.
She had seemed almost catatonic before, but now, even as he struggled, this petite goddess pulled him down.
Her eyelids fluttered and he thought she would pass out, but the grip on his neck was cutting off his air supply.
Just as his own eyelids began to close, she looked him directly in the eye.
“Aurelius.” Eyes, the shape and color of almonds with a hint of gold, widened in recognition and she loosened the chokehold on his throat.
Coughing, he lost his footing and stumbled back. Damned if he wouldn’t have fallen to the ground without her hand steadying his arm, this woman-child. 
She stepped closer, and a small, clammy hand traveled over his features to caress his cheek. One long talon traced the shape of his lips.
She wasn’t hurt. She had acted so violently, she was either on drugs or in shock.  The change in her, from sluggish to the swiftness of a predator made his hand slide back down to the gun.
“Who are you?”     
For some reason, hurt flashed in her beautiful eyes, dulling them a bit. “I am Layla.”
Her voice was hoarse, but he detected an accent. Mediterranean.
“Are you alone?” Quinn looked around for drug paraphernalia, this boyfriend Aurelius she called for, something that made sense this time of night for a tourist to be out and about on the Nile banks.
“What are you doing out here alone?”
When she did not answer he looked down at her. Her eyes roamed his body with the kind of interest that must have been in his eyes before she tried to choke him to death.
The young woman who called herself Layla ran one hand along the satin trimmed lapel of his tuxedo jacket while the other raked through the curls at the base of his neck.
There was something about those fingernails; they were a bit longer than he cared for and looked very…strong. Even so, the hair massage was undeniably arousing.
Abruptly, he looked away from the amber pools drawing him in and focused on a question. “Are you hurt?”
“My head…” She leaned against his chest.
His arms betrayed him, wrapping around her, and he stifled a curse. She burrowed closer, her lush curves pressing against him. Now was not the time to play the hero.
He took her by the shoulders and held her away from his body. “Where do you live?”
Her eyes traveled slowly down his tux. “Why are you dressed in this way?” She reached for him again but he stepped back.
“Why are you not dressed at all?”

Danita Minnis Bio:

Born and raised in the heart of New York City, Danita is a singer, writer and lover of romance. Her fourth novel, Dark Love Rising is her first vampire romance. She is the author of the ghostly love story Adderley’s Bride and the Cardiff novels, Falcon’s Angel and Love Entwined.
Mystery, mayhem, the fantastic and the fey are as intriguing as Siberian Huskies - shout out to the Khan Man. One more hour with her laptop and Danita is living the dream.

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Monday, July 10, 2017

#AuthorLove exchange #erotic #romance A Daring Desire @JeanneStJames

Today I have the spotlight on A DARING DESIRE by Jeanne St James! Nothing short of amazing! 

A Daring Desire
The Dare Ménage Series, book 4
By Jeanne St. James

Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance, Ménage, MMF, Interracial


Take two defense attorneys, add one troubled NFL QB who needs them, and what do you get? Hot, sexy conflict.

Gryff Ward made a serious mistake when he hired the hot-as-hell defense attorney Rayne Jordan as an associate in his high-profile legal firm, even though she’s one of the best. Now he’s struggling to keep it professional, especially when she insists on calling him “Boss.”

Rayne’s been attracted to the firm's top attorney ever since her interview. And she’s well aware that calling the conservative man “Boss” drives him crazy…in a very good way.

Add Trey Holloway, their newest client, a troubled NFL quarterback, into the mix. Tension arises when it’s clear that both Gryff and Trey want Rayne and Gryff is willing to fight for her. However, Trey doesn’t hide the fact that he wants Gryff too.

Now Gryff’s having a hard time fighting not only his attraction to Rayne but to another man. Even though he stubbornly refuses to admit his deepest, darkest desires.
Then Rayne takes control. She’s determined to have them both in not only her bed but her life, and she won’t give up until she does.

Note: This book in the series can be read as standalone. It includes an HEA ending. It is intended for audiences over 18 years of age since it includes explicit sexual scenes between all three characters.


Trey knew this might be a bad idea.
A really bad one.
But, he figured it could be worth the risk. Though, last time he was in a bar thinking he would get lucky, he got arrested and then suspended from the team, instead.
And now he was down five hundred grand.
Five. Hundred. Fucking. Grand.
He figured he had two good reasons to cough up that much scratch. One, his career might come to a screeching halt if he didn’t, and two, he needed to hire the best to represent him, who, with any luck, would get his charges dismissed instead of going through a lengthy legal process. Because if they weren’t, it would delay him getting back on the team. And a loss of possibly getting a Super Bowl ring.
He fucking wanted that ring. He could taste it.
Grae Ward said his brother was the best. However, Trey didn’t fork out those ridiculous funds simply because of Gryff and Rayne’s reputation. Though, once he met both of them he knew he wanted no one else.
He wasn’t just talking representation in a court of law. He was talking about his bed. Though, he couldn’t figure out who he wanted more. The hot male attorney with an ass that wouldn’t quit. Or the hot female attorney with an ass that wouldn’t quit.
So, what the hell, why not both? Right?
Right. Though, Gryff probably wouldn’t cooperate with his little plan, even though the man got turned on when Trey “flirted” with him. That reaction left Trey with no doubt that Gryff wasn’t completely against the idea of being with another man. Whether that stubborn guy wanted to admit it or not.
Yeah, there was no mistaking the hard-on Gryff got when he pinned Trey against the wall.
Now, as he sat at the bar surrounded by stale smoke and after-work drinking habits, he questioned his idea of tricking Gryff here to the bar.
He ran a finger down the sweating glass of his Jack and Coke. The one he had only two sips from.
Because he needed to be sober for this.
He’d be a fool otherwise. Plus, he needed to keep his “nose clean” or he’d watch his five hundred G’s go up in smoke. Poof.
The door opened and some fresh air rushed into the dank bar’s interior, reminding the occupants for a split second that there really was a life outside this drinking hole. He had picked this particular place because he hoped no one would recognize him, and if they did, they’d likely leave him alone.
When he first walked in and moseyed up to the bar, eyes had landed on him. Along with looks of recognition and curiosity, he even scored a few chin lifts from some of what looked like regulars. But, so far, no one had violated his personal space.
Even the bartender had left him alone after serving him.
Trey’s eyes tracked the broad, dark man approaching him.
And the guy didn’t look happy. Not pleased at all.

Get it on Amazon for $2.99 for a limited time or FREE on Kindle Unlimited:

About the author:

JEANNE ST. JAMES is a best-selling erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here:

To keep up with her busy release schedule check her website at or sign up for her newsletter:

Find Jeanne here:

Thursday, July 6, 2017

#AuthorLove exchange #MM #romance Unexpected from talented author @ValerieUllmer

Unexpected is the topic of my spotlight today! 
Does this mean someone won't see it coming? 

 (A Unexpected Novel Book One)
Valerie Ullmer

Genre:  Contemporary M/M Romance

[ Insert Unexpected Promo Book Cover ]



A chance meeting will change their lives forever…

From the moment he entered the dark taproom, Caleb Hunt found himself drawn to the handsome man who sat alone at the end of the bar, away from the crowd. His interest in the dark-haired, muscled adonis took him by surprise, not remembering when he’d felt such hunger from a simple glimpse. Unable to stay away, he quickly found an open seat next to him and slid into it. When Ronan turned his ice-blue eyes to Caleb and introduced himself, his warm hand sent shivers of desire through his body and he was enthralled.

Ronan Scott’s boring Friday night had taken a turn for the better when Caleb took the seat next to him. Over the next few hours, he found Caleb easy to talk to and at the same time, he found that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the beautiful man. Caleb captured his attention in a way that no other had for as long as he could remember. Taking a chance, he leaned forward and captured Caleb’s lips with his. And with the simple kiss, Ronan understood that Caleb would become an essential part of his life.  

As Ronan and Caleb explore their new relationship and integrate their lives together, they realize that not everything will be so seamless…


That’s when he spotted him and everything stopped.
His breathing hitched in his chest and his heart thudded once, hard, and even the music seemed to fade as his gaze landed on a dark-haired man who sat by himself at the bar.  As Caleb’s eyes slid down the man’s body of their own accord, he noted the fitted black tee that emphasized the muscles of his arms, back, and shoulders, before his gaze dropped lower to his legs encased in denim.
When he lifted a beer to his mouth and swallowed, Caleb felt his own throat tighten.  A shiver of desire passed over him.  Never had he felt this way about a man or woman in his life.
Before he could analyze his actions or talk himself out of his stupid plan, he walked toward the man.  Part of him wanted to see if the man was as stunning as he believed from across the bar or if he’d been alone for so long that his mind had conjured the perfect man.
Before Caleb could reach the stool next to him, a beautiful blonde glided up to him, running her hand down his chest.  Her smile flirty and sensual.  Although Caleb had never been propositioned in any way close to resembling what he witnessed, he knew that she offered the man a brazen invitation to get to know her better.
Disappointment flooded Caleb’s chest.
In the next moment, however, she frowned and backed away from him as quickly as she arrived, leaving an empty chair.
Not questioning his good luck, Caleb hurried over and shed his coat, dropping it over the back.  He flagged down the bartender and indicated the beer he wanted.
He sensed the man’s eyes on him, but for the moment, he wasn’t brave enough to turn and catch his gaze.  Not when his breath had stuck in his throat, and he didn’t know if he could speak without sounding choked.
As soon as the bartender handed him his mug, the man turned his body toward him and leaned over to speak, close to his ear.
“Are you here alone?”
Caleb had to bite the inside of his lip in order not to moan out loud at the sexy, deep voice.  Remembering the question, he shook his head and pointed toward Dylan and Garrett across the room.  Dylan, of course, had a woman on his lap and was tracing a finger down her neck, before he leaned toward her and his mouth followed the same trail.
Garrett was looking down at his phone.  The shy woman he’d been talking to had disappeared, much to Caleb’s disappointment, and another was trying, unsuccessfully, to get his attention.  She looked drunk and very loud by the way he flinched every time she spoke.
“Dylan, the one on the right with a woman on his lap, is the biggest flirt in the world.  He’s never serious about any woman he takes home.  Garrett is his best friend, the complete opposite of Dylan, but he’s loyal.”
The man laughed and Caleb couldn’t help the lift of his lips at the sound.  It was deep, rich, and addictive.  But when the man turned his ice-blue eyes on him, something unidentifiable swelled in his chest.  He could sense that he should speak, to keep this gorgeous man talking for as long as possible.  “Are you here alone?”
Smart, Caleb.  Just parrot the same question back.
The man smiled before he nodded over to his group of friends.  Some were flirting, but others were enjoying the company of their friends on a Friday night.
“The ginger is Hawk; he’s a divorce lawyer who is handling Ryan’s divorce.  That’s why they’re hunched over their beers.  Ryan’s wife apparently hadn’t been faithful during their entire four-year marriage, and he found out when he came home early from a business trip.  Jack is the one who is flirting with the group of women; he’s like Dylan in that way, never serious.  He’s a CEO of a tech company and he could have any woman with his looks and the power he exudes, but he’s never been in a serious relationship.  Sam is my second-in-command, the one who looks faintly sick, because Adam is a forensic scientist who loves talking about his work.”
Caleb found himself smiling at the group of friends.  When he glanced at the man, who had turned back to Caleb after pointing out his friends, he snagged Caleb’s gaze.  “So, do you have a girlfriend at home?”
“No.  I can’t remember the last time I had a date, much less a successful one.  You?”
Caleb breathed a sigh of relief when he shook his head.
“I’m Ronan Scott.”  He held his hand out. 
Even the man’s name is sexy.
He had to clear his throat before he reached out and grasped Ronan’s large, warm hand in his.  “Caleb Hunt.”
Something inside Caleb warmed in increments until fireworks exploded behind his skin, all from a simple touch. 


Valerie writes paranormal and contemporary romances with strong alpha males and brilliant, beautiful heroines. She lives in Denver, Colorado with her wonderfully supportive husband and their funny and wise black lab. She's addicted to coffee, crime shows, and reading and writing character driven romances.


#MysteryExchange #spotlight -- have you ever had a daydream that ends up in a book? Let's ask #mystery writer Cathy Perkins @cperkinswrites

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