Saturday, November 11, 2017

I Love A Grumpy Alpha Male With A Soft Touch by Clare Dargin #RomanceNovel #Menage #MFM




There's nothing better than a gnarly, surly alpha male in a romance novel.  Mind you not a mean, bullying jerk but the kind of guy that is a barrel of inconsistencies.  He's a loner yet, he's surrounded by people who are completely loyal.  He keeps to himself yet he has a best friend he can't live without.  He's cantankerous and misunderstood but his sweetheart, his soul mate, gets him completely.  And the best part is that he gets his sweetheart totally too.  And he's protective and totally territorial when it comes to him or her. 

This is probably why I like writing and reading about a screwed up alpha male with a heart of gold. He's so much more fun. There's something about knowing there is hope even for the most messed up person in the world to find happiness and love.  It gives me the kind optimism that no pep talk in the world can do, it inspires me to believe that in the darkest of situations, loves light can shine through.

For instance, in my book Merry Chris Mas- Chris Poole and Chris Spinell have been struggling with PTSD since returning from the war in Afghanistan.  However, when they meet Jilly Reimers, they no longer see fate as an ominous dark cloud predicting a lifetime of loneliness.  In Jilly they see the promise of love and a bright future, full of happiness, passion and sensuality.  The only thing they have to do, along with her, is get past the baggage and fears they brought with them.

I'd categorized Chris Poole in the loner category.  He has a bunch of loyal friends who care for him but  he has a hard time connecting with them.  He can't seem to stop being boss long enough be a good friend.  He's done it before, he's just so screwed up now, he's lost his way.  

Chris Spinell is different.  He's a loner who is slightly moody and cantankerous but with an amazing heart.  He's lighthearted when he's around the right people but because of his PTSD, he is riddled with anxiety and night terrors that has shifted his view on relationships.  

Nevertheless, they all have hope that this time, Christmas will be different.  That's why they signed up for The Love Play Matchmaking Service.  The agency's motto is 'Whether for love or play we'll find the perfect match for you.'  

Jilly, Chris and Chris hope that this will apply to them.  And for the first time in their adult lives they will finally be able to have a 'Merry Chris Mas.'


Blurb



[Menage Amour: Erotic Menage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, HEA] 

Jilly Reimers wants love but can't find it. Chris Spinell is a veteran of the war in Afghanistan who suffers from PTSD and a haunting feeling that something is missing in his life. Chris Poole is also an Afghanistan war veteran is ready to break out of his shell but is unsure how. With Christmas just around the corner, they decide not to spend it alone. 

Believing The Love Play Matchmaking Service to be just what they need for a night of fun and passion, they sign up. But when the guys show up and see that they've been set up on a menage, the only one happy about it is Jilly. Their consultant, called an Eros, assures Jilly that the service has a perfect track record but she's certain they'll be the first ones to get their money back. 

Will they have a very merry Christmas? Or will the three spend yet another one alone? 

** A Siren Erotic Romance




STORY EXCERPT

Jilly idly twirled a lock of her hair as she gazed at the fire. The meal was good, a bit awkward, but all right. Now with Chris S. in the shower, she and Chris P., who’d freshened up after her, sat beside her. She hoped she’d get a chance to know him a little better, now that they were alone.

Unlike Chris S., Chris P. was quiet, more reserved. His warm smile could melt ice. They’d spoken a bit about his life in Australia and how he met the other Chris when they were on Diego Garcia, a tiny atoll in the Pacific. It was there he garnered a better perspective on life, friendships and love. She reasoned that war tended to do that to a person.

She looked at him again, admiring what she saw. He was gorgeous. If only she were a femme fatale like her friends. She pictured grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and planting a long seductive kiss on his pouty lips. Anything to ease the tension between her legs and the moisture dripping from her swollen pussy.

Golden and sun-kissed like a surfer, he had a look impossible to have around this time of year in Michigan, unless he spent countless hours in a tanning booth. But at the same time he didn’t look like the type who’d go to one. He seemed too rugged. She glanced at his short, flaxen hair, which he wore pulled back in a stubby tail. It accentuated his keen facial features. His physique, like that of a gladiator, made her want to whimper. Built like a brick wall without being too thick, he was three words—supple, etched, steel. And his Australian accent added to his raw sexiness.

Whereas Chris S. was the perfect picture type of the all-American, boy-next-door type, with light brown hair and sandy-colored tips and eyes so blue they looked like the color of tropical water. He reminded her of the high school captain of the football team who’d gone into the military and become a man, except he had a sensitive edge that permeated his being. While Chris P., who looked like he could take on a few guys at once, was more lighthearted and outgoing.

Either way, she knew she hit the jackpot because both guys were like something out of a magazine called Hot Guys “R” Us. They were a perfect ten. It was best Christmas gift anyone could have ever given her. She hoped a Chris Sandwich was definitely on the menu for the night. But how to get past the talking stage, she had no clue. She wondered if all of her Love Play’s match ups started like this.

Wearing some leggings and a cami, and he a T-shirt and shorts, she suddenly felt overdressed. The art of seduction was not something they taught in any of the schools she’d attended, and she sure as hell never picked up any pointers from her so-called “friends.” And her exes never gave her any encouragement in that department either.

This date should have come with instructions. I think I’m in trouble.

She let out a long sigh.

“Did you say something?” Chris P. asked, stirring from his long silence.

“I was just thinking how beautiful this place is,” she lied. What? How lame is that?

“It is. I’ve never been to a place quite like this.”

“Love Play has quite a reputation.”

“You’ve used it before?” He perked up, facing her.

Heat burned her cheeks. “No. It’s what I heard from some of their clients.”

“So have you been married?” he asked.

“No.”

“Neither have I. Never found anyone to get serious with,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t know. Maybe cupid’s arrow doesn’t work on me.”

“For me they’re defective. Or maybe his aim is bad,” she said, trying to suppress the memory of her ex-boyfriend.

“What do you mean?”

“My relationships, they never work out.” She shrugged her shoulders. “For whatever reason, they seem to choose my friends over me. Or it ends up that way once we get together.”

He shook his head. “Nah. They were bad blokes from the start. Believe me. I know. I’ve been around those types my entire life. The randier they are, the worse they will be. If a man wants you, he’ll stay.” His tone was soft, almost vulnerable.

“Maybe.”

“So tell me,” he said, turning to face her, “you ordered this hook up?”

Again, her face flushed. She imagined it turning its characteristic red when the blood rushed to her cheeks.

“Yes. But according to the guidelines, you would have either had to be open to it or requested it too. Right?”

He chuckled. “I see he also got the smart I asked for. Yes, I am open to a ménage.” His expression became serious. “Do you think me odd?”

“No. I’m glad we share that desire.”





ADULT EXCERPT

Chris S. slipped her undies over her round hips. They slid down her baby-like skin, exposing her shaved mound. More blood flowed to his dick, making whimper.

“God,” he said, fighting tears.

Through gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes, he forced himself to maintain control. It was getting to be damn near impossible. Everything about her was fucking outstanding. Lips, breasts, skin and pussy. He was ready to fill her pussy with his thick, hard dick.

He slid his finger into the folds of her wet interior. The thin crease surrounded by supple labia oozed moisture from her tight and tiny hole. He slid a finger inside her hole, and her taut muscles quivered at his touch.

“You want it?” he asked.

She moaned “yes” before being silenced by the other Chris’s mouth. He inched her legs apart. Moving in just right, he tasted her. Explosions went off in his brain. She was pure, simple, clean and honeyed. He wanted to mark her as his own. Delving his tongue in and out of her tight hole, he held her still, allowing her juices to saturate his mouth.

Lifting her legs, he opened her wider, curling her upward, burying his face in her mound. His breaths increased as his heart rate grew frantic. His hard dick, standing at full scale attention, threatened to bust a nut if he didn’t stop.

Pulling away, he set her down gently. “Got to go get a condom.”

The other Chris looked up, his eyes equally as dazed as he felt.

She swallowed, seeming breathless. “My bag, by the wall.”

The time for being cool had passed. Quicker than he’d wanted and less suave, he dashed toward it, finally seeing the stash. Grabbing the entire lot, along with a bottle of lubricating gel, he opened the box and pulled out two, handing one to Chris and keeping the other for himself. Setting it aside, he removed his shorts, exposing his aching dick to the room’s cool air. He grimaced as he slid the latex over his shaft. It hurt with a pain that would only be relieved by what Jilly had to offer. He squeezed the gel, which had the scent of strawberries, onto his palm. He fisted his hand and soaked his condom-wrapped rod with the smooth, thick liquid. The mere pressure of his hand gave him some relief, albeit short.

“Me first,” he said, climbing onto the bed.

Calming himself, he lay down beside her and turned her on her side. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close. He spread her legs apart as she tilted her pelvis back. She melded her body to his. There was so much of her he wanted, not only her body, but her soul, mind, and yes, even her heart.

He took a hand and placed himself at her entrance. Slowly he pushed inside. He grunted and made himself hold back, lest he spill at that moment.

She was so tight. No doubt about it. This was going to be a short run. Inch by inch, he slid inside of her, stopping at the root. His balls drew in tight. He shifted her close and moved in and out slowly. Each movement became stronger as his control slipped. He needed the release, the kind that would give his aching balls sweet relief. Back and forth his hips moved inside her. She wriggled and moaned in response. Their mouths met briefly, tongues swirling, causing his stomach and heart to flutter. He increased his thrusts. Finding his target, she keened her delight.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Don’t stop.”

She pushed her ass toward him.

“Baby, I’m going to come.”

“Come, honey. Come.”

He grunted, harder and harder. Sliding his hand down to her hard clit, he rubbed it as his panting increased. Pressure built up behind his eyes, his mind went blank as everything in the world seemed to fall away. He couldn’t stop. Harder and harder he pushed, holding her firm and tight.

With light speed, he cried out, “God!” His hips bucked upward while cum poured out of him.

Slightly dizzy, he held onto her before letting her go. “Are you all right?”

Her kiss eased the butterflies threatening to kill the moment. Sliding out of her, he sighed, relieved. He gazed into her eyes. Instantly he felt the completed connection he’d sensed along. She was the one. And he saw that she felt it too.


* * * *

Jilly recovered her breath as Chris P. gathered her up into his arms. His musky scent was so spicy and inviting. She buried her face in the crook between his shoulder and neck. She was ready.

“On your back,” he said, holding her.

She nodded.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” he said, whispering in her ear.

From her tall Adonis, she was ready to receive all he gave her. Trust welled up within her heart. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

Placing her on back like she weighed nothing but a feather, he positioned himself on top of her. A lock of his blond hair obscured his face. She opened her legs. She felt his solid, round tip prod her hole. Panting, he pushed inside of her, his raw strength causing her pussy to clench. Each muscle spasmed to accommodate his thick and meaty cock. She cried out along with him. He braced himself.



Buy Links--



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Author Bio

Clare Dargin is an author of Science Fiction and Romance and has been writing stories all of her life before being published in 2007. She’s a great fan of the two genres and loves promoting them.

An educator by profession, she possesses a Bachelor’s Degree in English from a major mid-western university. She presently resides in the Midwest and she hopes to expand her writings to include non-fiction, historical romance, and contemporary novels.
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Author Links- 

Blogs- Leather, Lace and Alpha Males- https://karapaulandclare.blogspot.com/

The Embraced: Scribal Love- http://theembraced.blogspot.com




Friday, November 10, 2017

Making a difference -- Together


I write erotic romance – naughty, sexy, often polyamorous escapades. The love between the sheets is a natural expression/progression in the journey of love.

That doesn’t mean I hook up with a vampire and a werewolf, or hot blond twins – male or females – in my personal life. And it doesn’t mean that someone should be able to leer, almost drooling, when they ask if I do.

Do those who write about serial killers murder for research? It’s just that our research is so much more fun.

Yes, I know, this may be a different subject for Decadent Divas. But in my mind, Divas get to be as Decadent as they want. Right?

I was honored to be asked to contribute to #MeToo: Essays About How and Why This Happened, What It Means and How To Make Sure It Never Happens Again – a collection of 24 essays in reaction to the Twitter hashtag MeToo after the multiple revelations of sexual predation in Hollywood, and elsewhere. The authors see #MeToo as the tipping point of the need for change and the book calls for ways to figure out how to drive that change forward making the movement more than a hashtag.

This is the turning point. Things are going to change.

Available for free via Amazon, Barnes&Noble and other eRetailers.

Grab your copy today, and spread the word!

Enter to win a print copy of the edition. I’ll randomly pick a winner on Sunday, Nov. 12, evening, from the comments.

Tell me: Do you think social change can happen via moments such as this?

Louisa Bacio


Saturday, November 4, 2017

Happiness is...


It snowed in Seattle. Yes, folks, winter is upon us.

When it’s cold and dark and the fate of the world seems to be in jeopardy every day, it’s difficult to stay positive. But the other day when I was listening to the Broadway satellite channel (one of my favs) the song “Happiness is…” came on from the show You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown. The song has the Peanuts gang singing a list of things that make them happy, and in times such as these, I think it’s good to stop and remind ourselves about the simple joys in life.

So instead of things I am grateful for, here is my list of my happy thoughts. I call it: Happiness is… Fall Edition. Here goes.



My children’s laughter.

Warm apple cider on a cold day.

Making my boyfriend laugh.

Snuggling. I LOVE snuggling.

Watching Chris Evans on screen.

Watch all the Chrises on screen.

Brownies.

Staying toasty warm in my big fluffy bathrobe.

Binge watching HGTV.   

Pumpkin sheet cake with cream cheese icing.

Drinks with friends.

Sleeping in snuggled under thirty blankets.

Pomegranates.
Finishing a project you thought you'd never complete.

Irish coffee and snuggling. 
Seriously, I should become a professional snuggler.

Yeah. That's a good start.
Until next time, y'all. And I'd love to see your list!


Anna- The Super Diva



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Friday, November 3, 2017

Girls' Weekend by @elle_rush

There's nothing like a girls' weekend to make you feel both refreshed and exhausted at the same time. I did double-duty last week. It was a working girls' weekend. Three other romance writers (Zoe York, Sadie Haller, Susan Hayes) and I spent 4 nights in Whistler, BC on a writing retreat. And we actually wrote.

In between views of this:

And this:


And these (they're my attempts to be artistic.)






We weren't fooling around. It was all work, all the time, with only suppers off when we went down to the village. The television was only on for five minutes so we could catch the end of Game 2 of the World Series (it had been on in the restaurant and by then we were invested.)  There is something about accountability that makes goofing off in the presence of hard workers next to impossible. Of course, if one of them had been goofing off, I definitely would have followed suit, and I didn't want to be the one to throw everybody off their games.

Was I productive? Well, I wrote most of my Christmas novella that is coming out in December, learned a ton (always surround yourself with people who are smarter than you), and now have a plan for 2018 that includes, you guessed it, another girls' weekend.

Proactive is sexy.

Also, elderflower liquor and sparkling white wine is nectar of the gods.

See you in December with all things Christmas-y.

Elle.

Thursday, November 2, 2017

Glimmer, Sparkle, Shine, and Shimmer…They Ain’t Just Ponies by Ripley Proserpina

What the heck is it about vampires? When did they turn from Nosferatu—skinny bodies, no hair, long, weird fingers, to—you know.


From the fanfiction that’s now a BDSM billion dollar franchise to the original, vamps just…well, they got it. The intangible “it.” 

I’ve been thinking a lot about vampires, and I’m definitely in the camp that loves them, but I’m not satisfied with the intangible.

This is what I decided—I think the vampire is the original bad boy of the supernatural world. So I broke it down, scientific-like, and did a side-by-side comparison. First off, I asked, “What makes a bad boy?” and then I asked, “What makes a vampire?” 


And this is what it came down to: 
  1. motorcycles
  2. fashion (good hair, ripped jeans, leather jackets, guy-liner)
  3. quotes poets or post-modernist writers 
  4. plays a musical instrument
  5. will get into a fight over a girl (I know…this shouldn’t be a thing, but don’t tell me this doesn’t get you all twitterpated). 

Now, we all know a bad boy is irresistible, so, using math (see what I’m doing here?  I’m using math AND science like a boss) we can solve for X. 

So if X equals a bad boy… then… 

A+B+C+D+E= X


It doesn’t work in both directions. A bad boy doesn’t have to be a vamp, but a vamp has to be a bad boy. Please note, I’m ignoring bloodlust and other murdery vampire traits, immortality, and sun allergies. 

Vampire bad boys—they’re the ultimate. In keeping with the vampire theme (it’s all been leading here…) I have a paranormal romance with a reverse harem twist releasing November 9th! 

It’s the story of four vampires who fall in love with the same girl. And trust me, these are some bad boys. 
Men. But Bad Men sounds weird, doesn’t it? 
Bad guys? No, because then they’re evil. 

We’ll stick with bad boys. 

Anyway, here, just for you, is a sneak peek of Briar, the first book in the series Midnight’s Crown. 

Briar is available on Kindle Unlimited on November 9th! http://amzn.to/2zqEi2z



A crash sounded from the hallway, and as one, Vali and Marcus spun, crouching low.
“Back up.” Vali threw a glance over his shoulder before his focus went back to the doorway. 
The crawlers. Briar remembered the creature’s long fingers wrapping around her leg, and its weight as it pulled itself eye-level to her. Vali growled, the sound more animal than human, and the fine hairs on the back of Briar’s neck lifted. 
Something was wrong here. Neither Vali nor Marcus looked at Briar again, but she got the sense they were wholly focused on her. 
As she backed up like Vali asked, their bodies shifted minutely. The cacophony of noise from the hall suddenly stopped, before erupting into something louder and more frightening. It was as if lions fought for dominance right outside her room. 
Roars shook the walls. Briar jumped and rammed into the furniture. One of the framed photos from her bureau shattered on the floor, sending glass flying in all directions.
Like a flash, Vali suddenly jumped into the air to catch the dark form flying toward her. The two figures landed with a crash so hard Briar expected to see an impact crater in the floor. 
One of the forms shook free of the other, pinning Briar with a blue-eyed stare that froze her in place. 
Hudson. 
At least, it was a creature who wore Hudson’s face and body. It twisted Hudson’s features. The handsome, distant man replaced with a slavering, wild-eyed beast. 
“Hudson?” Her voice shook, and the beast smiled to reveal four curved fangs along the top of his mouth. They dug into his lower lip, splitting the skin to ooze blood he then licked away. 
A flash of brown leapt between her and Hudson. Marcus. Knees bent, he shifted like a soccer player guarding the goal. 
Which was her. 
Hudson feinted left and then right, but each time Marcus stood between them. Nearby, Vali shook off what must have been a massive body check and rushed to stand next to Marcus. 
Something slammed into the door, and Sylvain appeared. 
Oh God. 
Sylvain’s features were a mirror of Hudson’s. Fangs. Sharp teeth. Wild eyes. It wasn’t the sunlight that was going to be her end; it was these men. Hands clenching into fists, muscles bunching, Sylvain blurred. 
Briar’s brain wasn’t fast enough to keep up with the action. One second Hudson appeared in front of her, straight backed and grinning, and the next, he disappeared, swept away in Sylvain’s massive arms, only to reappear at her side. Each time he came close, one of the other guys stood in his way. They didn’t fight, like she expected, but blocked.
They were trying to protect her, but they were also protecting Hudson.
What had she done to cause this? How could she go from conversing casually with the man to becoming his prey?
“What do I do?” she asked no one in particular. Was she supposed to stand here, frozen like a deer in headlights?
Hudson crashed into Marcus, spun away, and then crashed into Vali. Sylvain stayed at his back, arms outstretched to catch him should he try to double back or come at Briar from another angle. 
“What do I do?” she asked, but no one answered her. 
Hudson was tireless. He went at the guys, biting, tearing. Their clothes shredded beneath Hudson’s fingers. Blood ran down their faces, and dripped onto the carpet.
They hurt. Sylvain favored one side, and Vali’s arm hung at an unnatural angle. 

At a loss, she called out, “Hudson, stop!” 
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Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Pintrest is the devil by Jennifer Kacey

Pintrest......is.....the.....devil!
Not because it's bad but because it's so SOOOOO good!
I love it crazy much and could (not that I do mind you - *avoids eye contact*) spend hours going through recipes and cool crafts and house plans and kitchen ideas and ballet and NAIL POLISH!!!!

Here are my boards....
I currently have 26 boards and cough15229cough pins so far.

DON"T JUDGE ME!!!! :P

Come over and stalk me and add to the awesome!!! http://pinterest.com/jenniferkacey/
MWAH to all of you and happy November!!

Decadently Yours,
Jennifer Kacey


http://www.jenniferkacey.com/books.html


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.