Monday, August 29, 2016

The Boys of Summer (#lust #nostalgia #youth)

couple on the beach

I never will forget those nights;
I wonder if it was a dream.
Remember how you made me crazy -
Remember how I made you scream.
~ Don Henley, “The Boys of Summer”

It’s the last week in August, and this song is playing in my mind. I hadn't listened to it in a while, but when I looked it up on YouTube, I discovered that my reaction hadn't changed. “The Boys of Summer” still brings tears to my eyes and sends chills up my spine.

If you're not familiar with the song, go here:

This isn't a particularly good video, but the lyrics will paint their own pictures for you. Or at least, they do for me.

Why does this bittersweet song touch me so deeply? One reason is the fact that it so perfectly captures the blind intensity of teenage passion – the way sex and love get totally confused when you're burning up with desire. When you're young, the nights are magic and they last forever. Everything kiss, every touch, is new and overwhelming. I don't know about you, but I find this song incredibly erotic, perhaps because it reminds me of my own early loves, swept away by the tides of time.

In fact “The Boys of Summer” isn't really a summer song at all:

Nobody on the road;
Nobody on the beach.
I can feel it in the air,
The summer's out of reach...

But it celebrates the glories of summer, bare limbs, bronzed bodies, and heat that rivals the sun. The song pulls you back to the season when the beach was crowded and girls drove around in convertibles, when rock and roll and scent of sun tan oil filled the air. In the brilliant light of summer lust, forever seems possible, even likely.

The song tells a story, too, one that I might try to express in my own medium some day, if I get the chance. Just three verses, and yet I know the characters: the fickle, flirtatious girl “smiling at everyone”, the brash, naïve young man, hurt yet boasting “I'm gonna show you what I'm made of”. And then the third verse, surely the voice of greater wisdom and maturity, “those days are gone forever; I should just let them go.”
But he can't, and neither can I. The memories tempt me back, to relive the thrill and the pain of first love or first lust – if there's a difference.

While looking for a recording to include in this post, I noticed that “The Boys of Summer” was released in 1984 – more than three decades ago. And even then, I was wistfully recalling earlier summers. It's sobering to realize how long ago it was that I first experienced “those nights” of which this song reminds me. I guess I never will forget them. And honestly, I don't want to.

Sunday, August 28, 2016

Sunday Snog for Italy: The Ingredients of Bliss (#charity #disaster #giveaway)


This past Wednesday, a devastating earthquake struck a rural area in the mountainous Abruzzo region of Italy. Over 250 people are confirmed dead, while thousands have been left homeless. The centuries-old stone buildings in Amatrice and surrounding towns simply crumbled to rubble in the shock. Reconstruction is expected to take years.

My Sunday Snog today is dedicated to helping those affected by this disaster. I don’t have any stories set in Italy (got to remedy that!) so I’m giving you a sexy kiss or two from my French-themed erotic romance The Ingredients of Bliss.

Check out my excerpt below, then leave me a comment telling me what you think. For each comment I receive, I will donate one dollar to the Italian Red Cross for reconstruction.

In addition, I will randomly choose one person who comments to receive a free copy of this full length novel!

You can donate, too. Just go here:

Oh, and when you’re done with my snog, do click back to Sunday SnogCentral, where Victoria Blisse has links to lots more delicious kisses.

One sexy French chef. One kinky American TV producer. One ambitious Chinese gal who thinks she wants them both. The ingredients of bliss? Or a recipe for disaster?

Emily?Harrys voice boomed through the corridors, as if in answer to my thoughts.

In here. In Dantès cell.

Harry had to duck to get through the low doorway.Ah. I should have figured Id find you in a dungeon.He smelled of sunscreen, sweat and musk. Like Pavlovs dog, I started to get wet in response to the familiar stimulus.

I fought my rising need.Hi, Harry. I was just about the head back…”

Before I could stop him, he’d clasped me to his chest. “I missed you, love.” He buried his nose in my wind-tousled hair, breathing deep then nibbled my ear. “You smell delicious.”

I tried to untangle myself from his arms.I need a shower.My laugh sounded hollow.

That’s why you smell so good. No, actually that’s not true. You always smell good. One whiff of your magic scent and I’m hard as a rock.”

He wasn’t lying. His erection prodded my belly as he ran his hands over my curves and burrowed into the crook of my neck.

Too bad there aren’t any iron rings or bars. You’d look so fetching, shackled to the dungeon wall.”

Harry, come one. Be serious!Once more I struggled against his embrace, without success. He only held me tighter. He was far stronger than I. My stomach did a dizzy little flip at this realization.Theyre probably waiting for us…”

He left off his nuzzling and gazed into my eyes. In the dim cell, his were full of shadows. “Let them wait. And I am serious, Emily. I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

I couldnt avoid the kiss. Honestly, I didnt want to. His mouth sealed itself to mine and his tongue forced my lips apart, claiming me. Lust roared through me, unleashed by the ferocity of his oral conquest. I tasted the sugary residue of his soft drink, the mint of his toothpaste, residual garlic and herbs from the ratatouille. His assertive male odor surrounded me, the essence of pure sex. I opened to him and let him take me. I had no choice.

He didnt fondle my breasts or pinch my bottom or insinuate his fingers into my drenched knickers. He did nothing but kiss me, pouring every ounce of feeling into that mouth-to-mouth connection. Without the slightest stimulation, aside from his taste and smell, the firmness of his lips and the probing of his tongue, I found myself trembling on the verge of climax. Irresistible power flowed from him, overwhelming me. Helpless, lost and grateful, I let myself go.

He understood what he was doing to me. He felt my last resistance crumble. My plans, my qualms, my logic all came to nothing when faced with the intensity of his desire. And as I surrendered, the kiss changed.

Now he sipped at my mouth rather than swallowing me whole. His tongue feathered over my lips, coaxing me to let him enter. He breathed into me, warm and sweet, gentle as drifting clouds on a spring day. Holding me close, so close I could feel the heartbeat under his sweat-damp shirt, he bathed me in his devotion.

My sex still tingled and sparked, but now some other sensation swelled in my chest, a rare joy that seemed on the edge of triggering both laughter and tears.
I love you, Emily.His voice was rough velvet, his lips moist against my cheek.More than I can ever say. More than I know what to do with.

Tell him, my rational self whimpered, weaker by the instant. Tell him youre leaving, before its too late.

I raised my face to his and offered him my mouth, and the truth.

I love you, too.”


Don’t forget to comment! Include your email address if you want to a chance to win the book!

Saturday, August 27, 2016

The Unpopularity of Infidelity (#cheating #romance #reviews)

Two weeks ago for my Sunday Snog I posted an excerpt from my MMF vampire novella Fire in the Blood. (That’s the post that has received more than eleven thousand views. I wish I understood why!)

Anyway, when I was over at Amazon confirming the buy link, I noticed a new review. Unfortunately, it is only three stars. The reviewer objected quite strongly to the fact that my heroine gets involved with another lover while she’s on vacation with her long-time boyfriend.

So while Maddie is riding a horse on a mountain trail she gets hurt and her horse bolts which is when Etienne finds and save her. He is a vampire who has been wandering alone for a long time. There was also Troy who is her lover waiting for her and worried.
It felt too much like cheating and like Maddie did not care enough about Troy her lover to not sleep with Etienne while she was lost. So that is one of my no's I am just not a fan of that personally so that ruined this story for me unfortunately. So I while I did think this book was very hot with a lot of steam, sadly this story was just not for me.

I was a bit surprised by this reaction. First, other reviews have been really positive. No other reader has mentioned this issue.

Second, this is a paranormal erotic romance. One of the tropes in this genre is what I like to call “supernatural lust”. Vampires, shifters and other deliciously sexy creatures of the night are outside the rules of normal human relationships. Their power calls to mortals, body and soul, and can be almost impossible to fight.

Third, Troy and Maddie are not married, or even engaged. In fact, the first paragraphs make it clear that their relationship has run into problems. That’s one reason why they’re in Jamaica for vacation—to spend some relaxed, quality time together and try to repair their bond.

Finally, it turns out that Troy is just as attracted to Etienne as Maddie is. The lovers reunite in a passionate threesome with the tragic but irresistible vampire.

Still, I know that many readers of romance view infidelity on the part of a hero or heroine as the ultimate sin. I suspect that this may be partly due to unfortunate real life experiences with cheating spouses, either their own or those of friends and relatives.

Humans are not fundamentally monogamous, though. I don’t have any definitive statistics, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find that the majority of marriages experience some issues related to one or the other partner having sexual interests or activities outside the relationship. In fact, proponents of open marriage argue that it’s more realistic to accept our polysexual natures and be open and honest with one’s partner about attraction to others.

Traditional romance, however, tends to embrace the concept that the connection between the hero and heroine (or hero and hero, if we’re talking about MM romance) is somehow special and unique—that the members of the couple are in some sense soul mates. Of course, not all romance subscribes to this appealing fantasy, but it’s a very popular notion.

Personally, though I’ve been married more than three decades, I don’t believe in the concept of “soul mates”. I’m enormously grateful for my marriage. I love my husband deeply. I also value his intelligence, his competence, his compassion and his sense of humor. I would never hurt him by taking a lover behind his back (not that this is at all likely anyway, given my age).

Still, I had quite a few relationships before my husband and I met. I’m not convinced that he’s the only man with whom I could have been happy, as romantic as that might be.

And personally, I enjoy stories where a character is torn between several lovers (as in my first novel Raw Silk), because this mirrors what I see in reality. Different individuals fulfill different needs. 
I agree that it’s hard to like a character who’s dishonest, who sneaks around behind her (or his) lover’s back, who doesn’t care about her partner’s feelings. Maddie is not like that, though, or at least I don’t see her that way.

That’s the thing about reading, though. Everyone brings her own perspective to the story, and interprets it in the light of her own experiences. This review has reminded me that even a hint of infidelity can be the kiss of death to a romance book.

Friday, August 26, 2016

It's Not About Sex (#eroica #desire #genre)

passionate woman

Anyone who has read my blog posts will know that I have a bit of a problem with genre labels. My own work doesn't fit into neat pigeonholes, and often, the fiction I enjoy most is just as stubborn. I've found that the best books frequently defy categorization – or create new genres, which is basically the same thing.

Advocates of labeling claim that assigning books to particular genres helps readers find what they like. I'd argue that it's just as likely to discourage readers from picking up something new that they might actually love.

If you had to pin me down, though, I guess I’d label what I write most often as “erotica”. Of course, this is the kiss of death from a marketing perspective. Many readers have the (mistaken) idea that a book that calls itself erotica will include constant, graphic sex. Some people think that this also implies an absence of plot. I sigh when I encounter this sort of attitude, which seems to be to be quite wrong.

You want my opinion? (Well, of course you do, or you wouldn't be reading my post...) I think that erotica is not about sex, per se. Erotica is fiction that focuses on the experience of sexual desire. Sexual desire may be a concomitant or precursor to physical sexual activity, but it doesn't have to be. Desire in its many variants (arousal, lust, love, obsession) is fundamentally an emotional state or process. Thus, it's theoretically possible to write erotica that contains no overt sex at all. (More on this below.)

Conversely, a story that includes graphic sex does not deserve to be called erotica unless the author is primarily concerned with the characters' feelings about their encounters, and how those feelings affect the non-sexual aspects of the characters' lives. To the extent that sex is treated as a mindless, instinctual activity, a response to a stimulus that brings relief like a sneeze, it does not (in my view) merit the term erotic.

I've been a member of the Erotica Readers & Writers Association for more than a decade. ERWA has a list called Storytime, where members share their erotic fiction (and poetry) and ask for critiques. I don't participate in Storytime now – I just don't have the time – but the three or four years that I did had a powerful influence on my own writing.

In any case, I still recall one story that was posted on Storytime – at least ten years ago. I don't remember who wrote it, though I recall that it was a man. The main – indeed, the only – character is a soldier, staying in a cheap rented room somewhere, maybe Paris. A woman lives in the next room; the walls are thin. Night after night he listens to the sounds she makes coupling with her lover. He finds himself terribly aroused by this unseen female. He masturbates to her cries. He fantasizes about meeting her, about taking her lover's place. His obsession grows, his desire is unbearable, yet he still can't find the courage to knock on her door. Finally, one day, she's gone – the room next door is empty.

I found this story to be one of the most erotic pieces I've ever read. There was no sex involved, or at least none that involved the object of desire. Yet the tale managed to convey such a sense of yearning, a desperate, intense need – manufactured entirely out of the soldier's imagination.

That story (I really wish I still had a copy) has become my touchstone for erotica. I enjoy writing about sex, but like the soldier, it's the idea of sex that really turns me on. I've experimented, trying to write (and sell) erotica that keeps the physical side of sex to an absolute minimum. One story that falls into that category is “Stroke”, which originally appeared in Please Sir: Erotic Storiesof Female Submission, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel. The male protagonist is a Dom who's bedridden in a rehab facility, partially paralyzed by a stroke. The heroine is his nurse, who suffers from kinky fantasies her boyfriend labels as sick and shameful. The dominant manages to fulfill Cassie's fantasies, without ever touching her.


"Look at me." His tone was softer but no less firm. I raised my eyes to his, which were the startling blue of glacial ice. I shivered and burned. "You're new, aren't you?"


"Yes, Sir," he corrected me. My nipples tightened inside my bra.

"Yes, Sir." Just his voice was enough to make me ache.

"What's your name?"

"Cassie, Sir. Cassie Leonard."

"Don't look away, Cassie. Look at me. Do you know who I am?"

"No, Sir. I just started at Lindenwood this week. Before that I was in the rehab department at Miriam Hospital."

"My slaves call me Master Jonathan."

My earlobes, my nipples, my fingertips, all seemed to catch fire. I wanted to sink through the floor. I didn't want him to see how his words excited me.

But he did see. I stared at my hands, knuckles white from gripping the rail.

"You have a boyfriend, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir, I do." An image of Ryan rose in my mind, his brown curls and uneven grin, muscled chest and hard thighs. I did love him, truly I did, with his quirky humor, his gentle fingers and his boyish ardor. He was a fine young man. My mother approved of him.

"He doesn't satisfy you." It was a statement, not a question. Tears of remembered frustration pricked the corners of my eyes. "Why not, Cassie? Is his cock too small?"

I couldn't believe I was having this conversation with a stranger, a patient, a half-paralyzed man forty years older than I was. I stole a glance at Dr. Carver. His mouth was firm but his eyes sparkled with suppressed mirth.

"No, Sir. His cock is fine." Ryan was justifiably proud of his meaty hard-ons.

"What is it then? Is he a selfish lover? Does he come too quickly for you?"

Guilt washed over me. Ryan would happily spend hours licking my pussy and fingering me, trying to get me off. The only way I could manage it was to think about scenes from the kinky porn I hid from him. Whippings and spankings, gags and handcuffs, all the clichés that I couldn't stop myself from wanting.

"Well? Tell me, Cassie. What do you need that he doesn't provide? What do you want?"

My mouth filled with cotton. I couldn't speak. I was acutely aware of my rigid nipples pressing against the starched fabric of my uniform. My clit pulsed like a sore tooth inside my sodden panties.

"Cassie, I'm waiting." His sternness sent electricity shimmering through my limbs. "Don't disappoint me."

I dared a glance at his face. His left eyelid drooped slightly. His eyes snared mine. I couldn't look away. One eyebrow arched in an unspoken question.

"I—um—I want him to, uh, to do things to me. That he doesn't want to do.” I tried to break away from his gaze, but the force of his will held me.

Things?” He sounded amused. A fresh wave of hot, wet shame swamped my body. “What sort of things?”

Uh—tie me up. Spank me. Use me. Treat me like his slave.” It all came out in a rush, the desires I'd never shared with anyone except Ryan. Even then, I'd only shown him the tip of the iceberg, the least perverted of my needs. “He wouldn't, though. He was shocked when I told him. Disgusted. Said that I had a filthy mind.” The tears that had gathered earlier spilled out over my cheeks.

I imagine that you do, little one, delightfully filthy.” His voice was a caress, soothing and seductive. “I knew that right away, just from your reactions to my voice. Your deepest desire is to submit to a strong master, isn't it?”

Yes—Sir.” I felt relief, now that I'd admitted my secret. He at least didn't seem to condemn me.

You want to be beaten and buggered, shackled to the bed and split open by a huge cock. You want to bath in your master's come, maybe even his piss. To be forced to service his friends.”

It was thrilling and horrible, listening to him enumerating my darkest fantasies out loud. My clit felt the size of a ripe plum, swollen and juicy, ready to burst. I nodded, still finding it difficult to expose myself so completely.

I will do those things for you, if you'd like.”

You?” The suggestion startled me enough that I forgot the honorific, but he seemed to forgive my lapse. I searched his handsome, ravaged face. “How...?”

Don't underestimate me, girl. I may not be the Dom I once was, but I can still make you burn for my touch. I can still make you beg.” He snagged the button on the end of its cord and raised himself to full sitting position. He moved more smoothly and easily than before. “Remove your clothing.” 


No sex at all in this story. Just overwhelming sexual need. Is it erotic? I think so. And I suppose at some level it is about sex – the kind of sex that happens in the mind.

I really do subscribe to the philosophy summarized by my tag line. Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac. For me, erotica deals, first and foremost, with the mental and emotional aspects of desire. The physical stuff is optional.

Thursday, August 25, 2016

Defragmenting Daniel: The Organ Scrubber by Jason Werbeloff (#scifi #thrller #giveaway @JasonWerbeloff)


7 stolen organs.
1 vengeful victim.
A gruesome sci-fi thriller.

Organ scrubbing was a bloody job, but somebody had to do it. Daniel, an orphan from the Gutter, was put to work scrubbing kidneys at aged twelve. The job had its perks: a warm bed, Law and Order reruns, and an all-you-can-eat Mopane worm buffet.

Until the Orphanage stole Daniel’s parts, and sold them on the organ market.

Now Daniel has grown up, and yearns to become whole again. The cybernetic organ replacements just aren’t the same – he needs his parts back. But the new owners of his organs won’t give them up. Not without a fight.

Just how far will Daniel go to regain his missing pieces? And how much more of himself will he lose along the way?

Defragmenting Daniel is a cyberpunk crime thriller that will unnerve you. Every part of you.

A work of great imagination. Powerful and gripping.”
A stark and moving experience.”, 5 Star Review


The sun beat down on the crown of Daniel’s mop of thick, black hair. The hanging smoke in the air thickened. His left eye cried. His lungs protested, spasming as he penetrated deeper into the warzone. About a hundred yards into New Settlers Ways, the sweet stink of burning flesh competed with the smoke. Daniel remembered that smell from the operating theatre, when they’d removed his amygdala. But it was stronger here. Omnidirectional. As though the entire area were a seeping wound, and the sun its surgeon.

Daniel tried to count. To find sevens in the chaos. But the buildings weren’t in rows or columns. There was no order here.

We had you cleaned

We had you eat

He rubbed his eye. Tried to bury the memory of the song.

We love your toes

We love your meat

Odin crawled out of the rucksack and perched on Daniel’s shoulder. They surveyed the destruction together. Daniel could hardly feel the cat’s claws burrowing into his clavicle.

No good,” said Daniel, echoing the old shopkeeper.

He walked over to one of the mounds of rubble. Heat radiating from the stones baked his cheeks.

Odin meowed. Dug his claws deeper into Daniel’s chest.

What do you want here?” called out a voice.

Odin darted into the satchel as Daniel whirled around. His cybernetic knee grinded with the sudden turn.

You have no business here,” said a man. He wore a holey t-shirt and a week-long beard. His eyes were swollen. Frantic.

I’m looking for Porcu–”

We don’t need your help,” hissed the Holey Man.

I’m not here to help. I’m looking for Porcuperry Road.”

You PeoPle …” The man spat his P’s “… from up north think you better than us. What with your implanted parts and such.” He nosed the air in the general direction of Daniel’s cybernetic knee.

Sir, I mean no disrespect, but I don’t like my knee. I’d rather have my original.”

The filthy man’s eyes snapped back to Daniel’s face. “What’s that you say?”

The Orphanage took my parts to pay my debt. I never wanted the replacements they gave me.” Daniel flexed his leg. The joint wheezed as he lowered it slowly to the earth.

Hmmm.” The Holey Man stroked his grizzled chin. He had a gash along the bottom of his arm. Were those maggots wiggling along the edges? The man needed a good scrub of Rejek.

What was it you’re looking for?” asked the Holey Man.

84 Porcuperry Road.”

Porcuperry was … fi-si-seven blocks down.”

Daniel’s heart quickened. He eyed the broken streets. Doubted he’d be able to make out city blocks in this mess.

The man sighed. “I’ll take you.” He turned on his feet and walked off, not waiting to see if Daniel followed.

About the Author

Human. Male. From an obscure planet in the Milky Way Galaxy. Sci-fi novelist with a PhD in philosophy. Likes chocolates, Labradors, and zombies (not necessarily in that order). Werbeloff spends his days constructing thought experiments, while trying to muster enough guilt to go to the gym.

He's written two novels, Hedon and The Solace Pill, and the short story anthology, Obsidian Worlds. His books will make your brain hurt. And you'll come back for more.

Subscribe to his newsletter to receive a free novel, and a lifetime of free and discounted stories:

**Amazon Author Page – - download all of Werbeloff's fiction from Amazon.

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**Website - - read about the author, and the philosophy behind his fiction.

Purchase link for Defragmenting Daniel: The Organ Scrubber - The book will be free on Amazon for 4 days, August 24 – 27 2016.

The Organ Scrubber is the first fragment of the Defragmenting Daniel trilogy:

Fragment 1 – The Organ Scrubber
Fragment 2 – The Face in a Jar
Fragment 3 – The Boy Without a Heart

Jason is giving away a $15 bookstore gift certificate as part of his tour. And don't forget to download your free copy of the book!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Book Blast: Unchained Melody by Cynthia Roberts (#romance #giveaway #fate @cynthiasromance)

Unchained Melody cover


Pamela Landers had it all, a senior partnership with a top law firm, expensive car, and a luxurious condo. What she desired most was a loving husband, children and a life filled with precious memories that would comfort her through her golden years.

Funny how fate has a way of steering you down that path where dreams really can come true. When Pamela encounters Gavin Templeton along her journey, she has some life-altering decisions to make that eventually lead her to happily ever after.


Nice to meet you, Mr. Templeton. I’ve been trying to get to Sugar Run for the past two years, but …” she paused. “I just don’t know how to say no to my boss.”  

He chuckled and pointed her way.

Well, good for you. All work and no play … well, you know the rest.” He interjected.

Then she thought. I’ll be damned. She knew that name. Everyone knew the Templeton name. She was rather titillated by his attention. The Templeton’s, were quite known in the Northeast. Not only was Sugar Run a rather luxurious five-star resort, but his family had acquired over fifty acres of prime lakefront property and started developing it into one of the most eloquent gated communities that would offer luxurious 2-3-bedroom town homes, a 9-hole golf course, and private country club.
The cleft in his chin was more prominent when he smiled and it pleased her to know she was the cause of the sparkle in his eyes.

And, please, call me Gavin.”

Her voice shook a little. “Pamela Landers … my name, that is and, thank you for sharing your table.”

The waitress arrived, took both of their orders, and refilled their coffee cups.

So, tell me Pamela, what line of work occupies your every waking moment?”

Law,” she answered. “My niche is wrongful death.”

The look that registered on his face made her wonder, if the legal field was something he found distasteful. She did not know why, but she wanted his approval. His opinion of her somehow mattered.

Do you ski, Gavin?”

Not an Olympic hopeful mind you, but I manage to make it to the bottom without breaking my neck.”

Pamela giggled.

His cell phone went off and he excused himself, as he rose and moved from the table. He was only gone for a matter of moments. When he returned to the table and rejoined her, he asked the waitress to bring him the check right away.

Pamela tried to hide her disappointment.

Pressing business?” She asked, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.

Gavin’s was evident as he sighed heavily. “I’m afraid so. There’s something I must attend to in Ashbury that needs my attention.” He rose and handed the waitress two twenty-dollar bills and told her to keep the change.

Pamela shook her head and raised her hand to argue but, he waved it off.

Please, it was my pleasure to meet you.” His smile was warm and genuine. “Perhaps, you’ll join me for a cocktail this evening. I’ll send a note to your room.”

Pamela returned his smile. “Um, that would be nice,” she waved her finger at him, “but, the drinks are on me or, it’s a no.”

Gavin reached for her hand, and drew it to his lips, and stroked it tenderly with his thumb. “How can I refuse? Until later this evening then.” He bowed slightly and turned to exit.

Pamela was exuberant as she watched him leave, appreciating how well the jeans he was wearing fit around a rather nice tight ass and well-muscled thighs. Pamela relaxed and played back their meeting in her mind. Talk about fate … it was all rather unexpected and the immediate attraction she felt for him was even more surprising. She looked down at the thick, crisp waffles on her plate and began devouring them with a hunger that was as strong as her desire to meet up with the dashing and charming owner of Sugar Run.

About Cynthia

My love of reading romance fiction goes back to those early years when I was raising a young family. It wasn't until much later in life I actually took up the pen to write my first historical romance, Wind Warrior. I really don't fit into one specific niche. Once a story starts to flow, it's only then I know what genre/sub-genre it will fit under.

I have only one regret, and that is not getting to this point in my career much sooner, rather than later. Life has a way of setting up road blocks, which for me, was supposed to work out that way. Because of those detours, I have become a more passionate and expressive writer, allowing me to create the kind of raw human emotion I want my readership to feel.

It is my hope you walk away with not just an entertaining read, but the importance in knowing, "Without imaginationand dreams, we lose the excitement of wonderful possibilities."

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The book is on sale for only $0.99 for a limited time on ALL of the ABOVE formats.

*For Smashwords, please use Coupon Code: AN23P

Cynthia will be awarding the first six E-books in the Love Song Standards Series to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter during the tour.