Wednesday, February 28, 2018

HOT NEW RELEASE! What a Highlander's Got to Do by Sabrina York

***Scroll Down to Enter my Tiara Giveaway!***

What a Highlander's Got to Do
Coming March 6th from Sabrina York and St. Martin's Press

Isobel Dounreay Lochlannach is a fierce and independent Scots lass. She has no intention to marry—to submit to a man—especially not an Englishman.

But when she meets a devilish stable lad on the way to London, she can’t help but sneak a kiss with the handsome stranger, sure to never see him again.

Nick Wyeth is not a stable lad. He’s Viscount Stirling, and heir to one of the most powerful dukes in the realm. If their indiscretion is discovered, Isobel will be forced to marry him, to succumb to a fate she has always spurned. Nick wants nothing but to call this wild Scottish lass his own, and is determined to show her how an English Viscount can make her swoon, and be his forever in What a Highlander’s Got To Do by New York Times bestselling author Sabrina York.


“Milady . . . are you s-sure?” the groom sputtered, even as Isobel launched herself into the saddle. He was a sweet boy, only slightly spotted, and she’d found him delightfully manageable.
She smiled down at him in a manner that caused his Adam’s apple to bobble precariously. “I’m verra sure,” she said. “I can handle him. I promise.”
“But the mare is much gentler,” he said with a hint of panic in his voice.
“I’m certain she is,” Isobel responded with a wink. And then she set her heels to the stallion’s sides and they launched from the stable yard.
She leaned over his neck, encouraging him on. “Och, you want this, don’t you, boy?” she whispered into his ear, and he nickered his delight. “Faster then. Faster. Let’s fly!”
And oh. They did. And it was glorious.
The ride, of course, but also leaving those horrible women behind.
Newcastle lacked the exhilarating rocky terrain of the Highlands, but in turn, it had long languid country roads that curved gently through apple orchards, along golden fields, and through fallow land spotted with bright-yellow flowers. There was a babbling brook to her right and the broad blue line of the horizon before her. She had, in that moment, the flight of fancy that she could ride forever.
The air was cool and clear, with a hint of lingering loam. And the sun, when she hit it in gentle splashes wandering through the leaves, was a kiss of warmth. They made their own breeze, she and Lord Willouby’s stallion. It caressed her face and tangled in her hair and it was magnificent.
Much better than tea with the local ladies.
It was, in fact, perfection.
Until a thundering sound disrupted her peace.
Hoofbeats from behind, intruding on the splendid rhythm she and the stallion had created.
She glanced over her shoulder and frowned. Another stallion pounded after them, with a dark-haired stranger urging him on. She’d heard about highwaymen in these parts, veterans from the war and such, who had turned to crime. And while she’d thought the prospect of such a thing wildly romantic when reading it in a novel, she did not, in truth, care to be robbed or manhandled by such a man.
She tapped her mount’s side with her heels and urged him to go faster, even as a thrill of excitement sizzled through her. She was certain she could outride her pursuer, but how delicious would it be to confront an actual highwayman and have a story to tell Catriona?
Not that the two of them tried to outdo each other in their tales, but they did.
Isobel caught her breath and focused on the road ahead. It curved out of sight behind a large hill. Not knowing the terrain, she knew she had to slow, lest she injure her horse, and that was her downfall.
He caught her then, as she rounded the curve and, to her shock and dismay, wrapped a strong arm around her waist and lifted her bodily from her saddle and onto his lap.
She had one stunning impression of hard hot man.
He was slick with sweat from the mad ride, as was she, but on his skin, it rose in a thick musk that teased her nostrils and made her belly lurch.
Surely it was not an attractive scent.
She refused to believe this to be so.
At the same time, she screeched her outrage and wiggled to be free, which had a disturbing result.
He tightened his hold on her.
Dear God, he was strong, this beastly highwayman.
“Hold still,” he snapped. “You’ll fall.”
Of course she wanted to fall. She wanted to hit the ground before he did so she had time to retrieve her blade from the scabbard on her thigh before he caught her again.
What a pity he didn’t let her fall. He held her even tighter—she could barely breathe—and pulled on the reins to slow his mount.
Before she had time to react, he’d slipped off and was helping her down.
Helping her down.
No one had ever helped her down. She’d never allowed it.
The man was, in a word, infuriating.
Once her feet hit the ground she elbowed him in the stomach and whirled away. She glared at him, though he was unaware of this, doubled over and wheezing as he was. This gave her time to free her blade and point it in his general direction, so when he recovered himself, when he stood and stared at her, it was, indeed, a fearsome sight he saw.
She had no earthly idea why he laughed.
No earthly idea why her first glimpse of him—this bandit who had just impugned her person—made her heart stop.
Oh, he was handsome, for sure, with dark eyes and rampant black curls. There was a birthmark just above his lip that gave him a rakish air, and the hint of a scar bisected his left eyebrow. But his smile was white and broad and caused an irksome raft of dimples to erupt on his cheek.
He wore the stained, frayed clothes of a workingman, with boots caked in mud.
And good lord, he was tall. Tall and muscled and exquisitely formed.
She wasn’t sure which of his perfections annoyed her more.
And then he spoke, and she knew for certain. It was his voice, a mellifluous tenor, crisp with British superiority and the hint of a laugh.
She abhorred being laughed at.
“Well,” he said, nodding at her knife—which, in retrospect, seemed far too small. “Aren’t you the fierce one?”
It took a moment to stifle her growl. No doubt it would give him even more to mock. “What do you expect? You chased me. Grabbed me from behind. Manhandled me.”
His eyes widened and he stared at her for a moment, then his grin widened. “You’re a Scot.” Not a question.
“You’re bluidy right I am, so don’t try anything. You’ll not be the first man I’ve skewered.”
A laugh. “I don’t doubt it for a moment.” He continued studying her, though, in a way that made her skin prickle.
“What?” she said, breaking the silence against her will.
He shrugged, some lazy careless gesture that made her want to smack his supercilious face. “I just thought all Scottish lasses had red hair, is all.”
“Did you now?” Did he want to see red? Well, it danced before her eyes.
He must have realized his comment incensed her, because he laughed again. “Doona skewer me, lass,” he said in a perfect brogue. For some reason, that made her even angrier.
“Why no’? Are you no’ a highwayman, come to rob me?”
“A highwayman?” His beautiful perfect brows lifted in mock surprise. He had the audacity to bow before her. “My lady, I’ve just saved your life.”
She gaped at him. She was aware she was gaping, like a landed cod, but could not manage to form words.
He chuckled and tucked two long fingers under her chin and gently closed it. Then he hooked her arm in his and led her farther along the track, where Lord Willouby’s stallion stood alongside the road ripping out tufts of grass. “There,” he said, waving at a stone bridge just beyond the hill, arching over the river.
Isobel yanked her arm away. “There, what?”
“Go look.”
He followed her as she made her way to the bridge and then stood next to her, rocking back on his heels, as she studied the structure. Or what remained of it.
The stone pilings were all in place, as were the abutments on either end, but as for the rest of it . . .
“The flood last month took out all the timbers,” he said in a far-too-smug tone.
She crossed her arms and studied the distance from one bank to the other. “No doubt we could have made the jump.”
He turned to stare at her for a long moment, and then he laughed again.
She was becoming quite tired of his laugh, and at the same time craving it. That was probably why—though she would deny it until the day she died—her lips quirked. Just a tad, but it was enough encouragement for him, apparently.
“I believe you owe me,” he said with a wicked smile.
“I owe you?” She turned and tipped up her chin and stared into his eyes—really stared into them—for the first time. They were a lovely warm brown with flecks of gold, and they were amused. There was something else in there, a certain heat, that she preferred to ignore.
“I did save your life.”
“I believe I made it clear, I could have made the jump.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment, but your stallion?” He glanced at the steed, who was trying to lip an apple from the tree. “That is questionable.”
“Perhaps.” She sighed. “So what reward would you ask?”
“First, that you put away your blade.”
“First? How many rewards are you asking for?” Was she enjoying this . . . sparring? Why yes. She was.
He was terribly handsome, and not a highwayman after all. Probably, judging from his clothes, a stable lad. Or a farmer’s son.
He shrugged. “How much do you value your life?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Just as it is. I would like to ask for a kiss . . .” Her heart skipped. “But to be frank, I prefer not to kiss lasses with knives in their fists. You know, just in case.”
She straightened up and peered down her nose at him—no easy feat, as he was much taller than she. “I doona kiss just anyone.”
He splayed his hand over his heart. “I am gratified to hear it.”
“Certainly not . . .” She waved at his person. “Stable hands.”
He grinned. “Is that what I am then?”
She pointed to his boots. “Do tell me that is mud.”
“What else could it be?” His playful tone made clear it might well be something else one might find in a stable.
“And look at your hands.”
He did. She did, too. They were large, well made, with long fingers. There was mud there, too, beneath his fingernails. One would hope.
“I can wash them in the river, if you like.” Again, that charming smile.
She smiled back, but with a hint of restraint. It was an odd feeling cloaking her shoulders. Restraint was hardly her forte. “Please do.”
He nodded and she tried to ignore the curl that flopped onto his forehead as he turned and trotted down the bank.
With a sigh of regret, she took the reins of Lord Willouby’s stallion and mounted. Best be gone before he returned or she might be tempted to give him what he wanted.
She wanted it, too, which was stupid.
She was here for a few weeks while she waited for the various arms of her family to collect here, and then they would make the long trip down to London for a miserable Season. There was no time for a romance, and certainly not one with a farm boy. Not even one as handsome as he.
Though she had to admit, she was tempted.
She kicked the stallion into motion and began riding back the way she’d come.
What a pity.
She would have liked a kiss. Just one. She would have liked to know if he tasted as delicious as she imagined. She would have liked to have a story to tell Catriona, one that didn’t end with her plunging to her death into the River of the Broken Bridge.
She should have known he would follow.
She heard the hoofbeats behind her and urged her stallion on, bending low on his neck and whispering encouragement.
Her heart pounded.
She knew he would catch her.
He had before.
But still, she persevered.
She had no idea why she smiled. No idea why her soul sang.
No idea why, when he caught her, swooping her up into his arms and onto his lap, she laughed.
No idea why she smiled as he cupped her face with his still-damp hands and stared at her lips like a starving man.
No idea why, when his lips touched hers, fragrant and soft and oh-so-sweet, she sank into the kiss with all she had.
Or perhaps she did have an idea after all.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Monday, February 26, 2018

The Marriage of Two Creative Endeavors ....

.... Music and Writing!

I don't know too many authors who don't write to some sort of background noise. We all say we want peace and quiet, but yet we go to Starbucks (where it's anything but quiet), or we have the television on in the background. We never totally shut out family noise by leaving the office door open just a crack. Most of us write to music, even going so far as to create playlists of songs that fit our current work in progress.

Because my writing jumps from genre to genre, so does my choice of music. Here are some of my favorites and their corresponding project/finished book.

My current work in progress is a vintage (1975) re-telling of The Wizard of Oz titled Waking Up in Oz. My heroine, an attorney, finds herself stranded in the small town of Oswald, KS following a tornado. Fortunately, she has a handful of hunky men to keep her company. She also has to deal with the colorful townspeople who count on the Oz lore to supplement their income, sometimes to the point of frustration for the heroine. In order to get in the Oz mood, I quite naturally gravitated toward the wonderful Judy Garland's Somewhere Over the Rainbow.

My most recently published work, The Vessel, is a sci-fi erotic romance set in the twenty-third century. The story revolves around a career soldier who's tasked with transporting an alien princess from the government's safehouse to their laboratories. Alora of Delawon is believed to be mankind's last hope in a world that's been left sterile by chemical warfare. The problem is, Major Liam McGregor finds himself more of a threat to their mission than the marauders they're running from. Throughout the creation of the book, I constantly listened to Sir Elton John's Rocket Man and the late David Bowie's Space Oddity

While most of the music I listen to while I write is upbeat (to keep me motivated), when I read I also like background music. However, it's a must that the music be just that ... background. And, for that reason, I choose classical. Most often, Ravel's Bolero or Strauss' Blue Danube.

I'd love to hear from both the authors and readers who visit this blog. Do you write to music? If so, what type? When you read, do you insist on total silence? Or, do you like background noise/music?

Until next month, happy reading!


Sunday, February 25, 2018

Something Special by Jennifer Kacey

Coming March 1st by Jennifer Kacey!!!

Lying is hard. Not accepting the truth is even harder.

When Lily Williams’s date abandons her on New Year’s Eve, she makes a new resolution. Stop taking the easy path, dating guys who are all wrong for her, and find the right path. Whatever the hell that is.

She never thought when the ball fell, it would be her best friend Elle Wright’s lips she’d be tasting. Before the night ends, she’s tasted a whole lot more. It’s a night of magic. A night of perfection.

A night Elle is convinced was only a cocktail-fueled dream.

Now it’s time for Lily to put up or shut up. Let Elle keep pretending to herself, or do the hard thing—fight for a love that could all too easily slip through their fingers.

Decadently Yours,
Jennifer Kacey

Jennifer Kacey is a writer, mother, and business owner living with her miniman in Texas. She sings in the shower, plays piano in her dreams, and has to have a different color of nail polish every week. The best advice she’s ever been given? Find the real you and never settle for anything less.

Wednesday, February 21, 2018

Mid-Winter Entertainment

It’s mid-winter, a time when Christmas is far behind us and spring feels as though it’s never going to get here. I know I find this time of year the hardest. It’s cold, it’s snowy, and I spend too much time huddle inside.

It’s a wonderful time of years to go to movies, which I do. I love to take myself out to the theatre, usually to the afternoon showing as there aren’t as many people around, and settle in and enjoy being taken away for a couple of hours. I tend to sit the third row back from the front. Yes, I’m a creature of habit. I also never bother with snacks, as I usually take myself out for lunch before I see the movie since the theatre is in the local mall.

Lately, I’ve seen several fantastic movies.

The 15:17 to Paris, a movie about three Americans who discover a terrorist plot aboard a train while in France. It’s a true story, but what makes it even more interesting is that the three men actually play themselves in the movie. It’s a reminder that we are not defined by our failures and that ordinary people can do extraordinary things.

The Shape of Water highlights the strange and beautiful relationship between a lonely, mute janitor and an amphibious creature behind held in captivity. It’s set at a top secret research facility in the 1960s. While there are some gratuitous nude scenes at the beginning, the love story is beautiful and the storyline makes you consider the definition of monsters, and that it takes more than a surface appearance to be one. It really is what’s on the inside that matters.

Black Panther is the latest movie from Marvel and lives up to the hype. T’Challa returns home to take his rightful place as King of Wakanda, but secrets from the past and threats from the present collide to place not only himself but also his country in danger. This movie is visually stunning, has a complex storyline, and the women are FIERCE!

While I love going to the movies, the mid-winter is also a wonderful time to read. And if you’re looking for a book, Wolf in her Soul is on sale for a very limited time for only 99-cents. If you haven’t checked it out yet, now might be the perfect time.

Wolf in her Soul
Salvation Pack, Book 8

Detective Reece Gallagher has spent the last decade working as a cop in Chicago so he can search for her—the red-haired woman who haunts his dreams. He’s just about ready to give up and go home to Salvation, North Carolina, when he finally finds her. But she’s the assault victim on a case he’s working on, and there’s a full-blooded werewolf who wants her dead. He needs to keep her safe and convince her she’s his mate.
Hannah Burdette has a secret she’s never told anyone. But there is someone who knows who—or rather, what—she is. There’s a stalker after her who plans to rid the world of her “impure” blood. When the cop she meets turns out to be a werewolf and claims she doesn’t have to be alone anymore, she’s wary. But where better to hide from a bloodthirsty hunter than in the middle of North Carolina with the security of a pack surrounding her?

Buy Links:

Entangled Publishing:

N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

Visit me at:

Newsletter Group:
Facebook Author Page:


Sunday, February 18, 2018

Birthday Fantasy Goes Horribly Wrong!

Happy birthday to you February babies!

I was born in February too. I'm a card-carrying picture-perfect Pisces. My creative juices usually come out in my books, but well, sometimes, they're released in other ways. I jotted this little scene last year. Why? Because I turned 50 and realized some of my darker fantasies were getting further and further out of reach.  If you're like me, you have a list of kinky, dangerous, or simply romantic fantasies that you want to try before you die. I've got a bunch that probably won't happen, but they're nice motivation to keep up my remedial yoga classes. They make for excellent daydreams, but when it comes to actually doing these things, well ... The mind says YES! Let's do that! The out of shape body says UM, is that even physically possible now? Seriously? You'll never walk upright again!

Can you relate? If so, read on and chuckle with me.

BDSM Fantasy No. 1

She was in pain.
And not the good kind either. This was ordinary pain. Stubbed toe, sprained ankle, pulled muscle kind of pain. It was the kind of pain that made you want to jump around holding the offending body part and swearing like the proverbial sailor. Or maybe a pirate if the toe happened to be the pinky and you ripped the nail off.

It was her birthday. This was her gift to herself. She was living a fantasy. Sure. That’s what she was telling herself over and over again in a desperate attempt to escape the pain.

The books never mention what happens when an out-of-shape middle-aged woman who’s had several babies is tied up for too long. Nope. They never describe how the sexy ropes dig into the cellulite, or how the knots press into just the right spot so you get a charley horse. Apparently no one in the books ever has to pee either. Probably she should’ve skipped that third glass of wine.

Those fictional pain junkies must be in great shape. Yoga or Pilates? Has to be one or the other, right? No one ever talks about cramping. In the books, these women have orgasms flying left and right while trussed up like a luau pig. Maybe she should’ve tried exercising before agreeing to this. A few stretches would’ve been a good idea. Ow. Her overly-tight hamstrings were screaming in protest. How far could they stretch before one of them snapped like a rubber band? No one in the books ever gets a cramp in their big toe either. She wiggled it and the cramp shot straight across the arch of her foot. 

Hey, buddy, let’s hurry up with that orgasm so I can pee.

Really didn’t need that third glass. She tried to shift her thigh to the right with the hope that would take some pressure from her bladder before she embarrassed herself. She thought about smiling. Her dom for the night wanted to know if she squirted.

Well... not usually.

Totally oblivious to her inner monologue, said dom circled her while dragging the leather flogger across her ass. Hard to miss it, really. It was the size of a Fiat at the moment--A blindingly white Fiat that hadn’t seen the rays of the sun in, oh, maybe never.

So it was her birthday and here she was lying on her face, hands bound, legs bound, mouth gagged, wincing as sweat ran into her eyes. Her bare ass stuck straight in the air with her pussy hanging out for him to tease. He ran the handle of the flogger between her cheeks to tap the entrance to her backdoor. Or was the correct term ‘rosebud’ or ‘puckered love knot?’ Who the fuck cares? The tiny little hole folded in on itself in an attempt to remain ‘exit only.’ Tap, tap, tap.

Knock all you want, big bad wolf. This little door’s locked up tight.

Too bad her front door, pussy, cunt, channel, man cave, whatever the hell it was called, wasn’t as shy. It was twitching like an exposed electrical wire. Uh-oh. Every little movement tickled her bladder. The man in the mask chuckled again. The evil sound didn’t bode well. The last time he’d made that sound was just before he shoved the ball gag into her mouth. Squeezing her eyes shut and wishing she’d done more Kegels, she squealed in protest as a stream of cold, oily gunk flowed down the center of her crease.

“Hold still now. This is my favorite,” the dom said. He sounded so happy with himself.

What was he doing back there?
His next question answered hers. “How do you feel about butt plugs?”

No, No! Wait! That is not okay, mister!

Before she knew it, the tip of something much bigger than his finger nudged at the tight little opening. She stiffened and tried to move away. Busily twisting and turning the thing in her ass, he murmured something encouraging and no doubt bossy, before stopping to douse her in an extra glob of cold lube.

You know how when you have to pee really badly, and when you jump into the cold water of the pool, you have to pee more?

Um, yeah. It was just like that.

So it turns out she’s a squirter after all.

I've got three new books coming in 2018! Want to keep up with me? Here are some ways to do that:

Friday, February 16, 2018

Black Light: Roulette Redux: Now that’s the way to celebrate Valentine’s Day!

I hope you had a wonderful Valentine’s Day, whether you spent it with your significant other or your girlfriends. I actually love the idea of Galentine’s Day. I don’t think we celebrate our friendships as much as we should. I know that the women in my life provide the bedrock of support, whether I interact with them personally in my day-to-day life or online through my writer and reader support groups. 

I spent the latter part of my Valentine’s Day evening diving into Black Light: Roulette Redux. As I mentioned in last month’s blog, I met a wonderful group of writers at A Dark and Seductive Affair, many of whom are featured in this volume of titillating, unique, fun, and sexy stories. The premise is a matching of Doms and subs at Black Light, an exclusive BDSM club, using a roulette wheel, and then determining how they will play by using another one with a listing of BDSM activities. As they did in the first volume last year (hence the Redux in the title), the stories explore varied kinds of play, many of which expand the boundaries of the usual BDSM novels. 

This is an incredibly talented group of writers. There isn’t a clinker in the bunch. Jennifer Bene and Livia Grant not only write their own stories but they write the intro and wrap-up of the anthology. They are also the publishers of the book, along with a number of other noteworthy titles from their publishing company Black Collar Press. You should definitely check them out.

I have started a new Facebook group called Rose's Garden of Delights. I will be posting about my writing progress, talking about kink, and have already featured many recipes for my #Tasty Tuesday, with a new recipe each week. Come join me at

Thursday, February 15, 2018


I'm a sucker for romantic comedies, and while I've tried to coerce the boy into getting in touch with his feminine side by watching some with me, alas, his 15-year-old self says, "Uh, no thanks. I'm going to watch anime on my phone." 

That's okay. I've seen these rom-coms so many times, I feel like I'm in them. Behold, my top 10!

10. Pretty Woman

      If you can get over the whole Cinderella hooker thing and forget the fact that most prostitutes on Hollywood Blvd. wind up dead from an overdose in a back alley somewhere, this is an adorable movie. Why? Because Julia Roberts is freaking adorable in it. Her charm is undeniable. And even though no one watching will ever believe Ms. Roberts is hooker material, she and Richard Gere have great chemistry together.  

9. 50 First Dates

    Many people cannot stomach Adam Sandler films because most of them are, well, dumb, but this one is actually quite endearing. I love Drew Barrymore, and she brings a lot of heart to this role as someone who replays the same day over and over again. The ending always makes me cry, further reinforcing my belief that every woman deserves a man who loves her that much, despite the obstacles. 

8. Crazy, Stupid Love

    A surprisingly insightful film about marriage and relationships, and believing the grass is always greener...This was my first time seeing Emma Stone in anything, and I now have an official fangirl crush on her because she's so damn cute in this. Ryan Gosling pulls off the whole Casanova player thing without being a douchebag, but I gotta say, even if he had been a big ole D-bag, it wouldn't have mattered once he takes off his shirt. Yes, he's that yummy. Meow. 

7. Moonstruck

    I have a special place in my heart for this one, probably because I grew up in an Italian family so I can relate to many of the elements in this movie, and also because they filmed the bakery scenes a block from my childhood home, so that was pretty exciting. Cher is feisty in this one; she does the best slap across the face out of anyone. And anyone who has been married for more than 20 years will appreciate the rocky-patch realism of Cher's parents, the ever talented Olympia Dukakis and Vincent Gardenia. 

6. Love Actually

    You either love it or hate it. People argue it's not a Christmas movie, but I watch it every year during Christmas. There's a storyline for everyone, with a great cast of characters, so unless your heart is made of stone (in which case, Die Hard may be more your speed), I can almost guarantee you'll be singing "All I Want for Christmas Is You" for 2 entire weeks after. If nothing else, watching it for Bill Nighy's cheekiness alone makes it worth it.

5. Hitch

    Kevin James as a leading man? I know, I know, but he pulls it off with a lot of help from Will Smith, who excels in the art of smooth-talking the ladies. And even though supermodels who are thrown into movies usually bomb heavily, Amber Valletta manages to convey a nerdy charm that makes it a bit more believable that she could ever fall for a bumbling idiot like James. 

4. The Proposal

    Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds. Enough said.

3. You've Got Mail

     This movie captures that delicate, still somewhat innocent period right before the explosion of the digital age, when you had to wait to get home before you could check your email. Ooooh, the anticipation was positively delicious, and Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks convey it well. Unfortunately, it accurately depicts the downfall of small mom and pop businesses due to being swallowed up by huge corporate entities (an inevitable phenomenon that makes me cry), but if you focus on this enemies-to-friends budding romance, it'll take you back to a kinder, gentler time.    

2. Dirty Dancing

    Where do I start with this one? Bad boy/good girl is one of my favorite tropes and no one does it better than Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey. The dancing, the bodies, the music, the heat between these two...make for one hot film. 

1. When Harry Met Sally

    I've probably seen this movie a thousand times and still, it never gets old. Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal are masters of timing. The dialogue is fast, tight, and so spot on, and director Rob Reiner does a fabulous job with the 10-year + time span. The unlikeliest of couples ultimately become the couple you cannot imagine apart, or coupled with anyone else in this friends to lovers story. There is still no better Profession of Love speech than this one by Crystal at the end. Sigh. Swoon.

What are some of your favorites?

Tiffany N. York wishes she lived every day in a romantic comedy, preferably with either of the two Ryans (Reynolds or Gosling), or both. To learn about her two romantic comedies, The Accidental Cougar and The Meatball Mistress, visit her website at 


Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Love by Jennifer Kacey

This Valentine's Day my wish for everyone is a day filled with love.
Whether that be from an amazingly sexy significant other, a sibling, a parent, a child, a furry friend, a co worker, a one night stand, or even a stranger on the street. 

Find a moment to stop and be thankful for something you love.
Good sleep.
A day with no pain.
A coffee cup shaped like poop. :)
A new show you found on Netflix.
Your favorite chocolate you found at the store.
A stranger whistling at your hotness.
Anything that makes you smile and reminds you to keep going and keep fighting for your own level of awesome, whatever that may be.

 Happy Happy Valentine's Day from all of us at the....

Decadently Yours,
Jennifer Kacey

Jennifer Kacey is a writer, mother, and business owner living with her miniman in Texas. She sings in the shower, plays piano in her dreams, and has to have a different color of nail polish every week. The best advice she’s ever been given? Find the real you and never settle for anything less.