Well tomorrow morning the Evernight Book Boyfriend Blog Hop begins! There are great prizes to be won and fantastic blogs to visit so make sure you follow the hop to be in with a chance to win. Happy reading and good luck!
Here’s a taster from my post…try not to get too hot and bothered now…;)
Thank you so much for letting me pop over with my latest release, A Dom’s Decision.
When is a Dom not a Dom? When it stops him from being with the man he loves…
Athol Donaldson lost many people in his life, his lover, his family, his twin. The latter loss seems hardly worth morning over. Affric caused nothing but trouble when alive, and now, he seems intent on causing trouble from beyond the grave.
It forces Athol to seek out the one man he’s never forgotten.
Eden Murdoch has no intention of letting Athol slip through his fingers again. He’s lost him once, and as they’re forced to pull together to unravel the mystery surrounding the parentage of a teenage girl, their love for each other blossoms.
Surely, being Doms doesn’t mean they can’t compromise? Will they be able to work out their differences, and find lasting happiness, or will this blast from the past prove to be their final undoing?
That’s the premise of A Dom’s Decision, also known as Athol’s Story and book two in the Dommisimma Series. Well okay The Girl on Bus mentions Dommisimma, but it’s not really a proper part of the series. This is.
It’s one of those things, when a secondary character in a book shouts at you, Waves a flag and says, hey, I’m here and boy do I have a story to tell you.
Athol was like that, when he pops up in Master. (Also from Evernight Publishing) I’m sure he didn’t mean to, but he stole nearly every scene he was in. And people asked me, ‘When can we have Athol’s story?’.
Well Athol has very definite ideas about what I should write. I started, he went shtum on me so I got stuck. So I put the story to one side and worked on other stuff. You see I’m very character driven, and he didn’t like the way the story was going, so stopped talking to me.
Then one day several months later, I woke up with him shouting in my head, and wrote the next 25k in just over a week. He spoke I listened…I wrote, he approved. Thus A Dom’s Decision, Athol’s Story was finished.
Well it wasn’t that easy but you get the gist…
Anyway, here’s a wee tease from Athol’s Story…
Athol couldn’t believe the rush of adrenalin that coursed through him. Every nerve end tingled. To know they just might be getting somewhere was so exhilarating, that one swipe of Edan’s tongue anywhere on his body would make him come. Slight exaggeration, but not much. He swallowed and cleared his throat.
“Well we could do, but then seeing as I came up with the idea, do you want to go first?”
“Fuck first—talk later?” Edan smiled. “Sounds good. So strip. Stretch out on the bed and let’s explore again.”
That was jumping in with a vengeance. Was revisiting your first lover like riding a bicycle? Once done never forgotten? He’d soon find out.
Athol decided it felt strange to have Edan watching him as he undid his zipper and stroked it carefully down the sensitive skin of his prick. Edan’s gaze was so intense, Athol’s hands shook, as he held the metal away from his body. Foreskin in zip teeth wasn’t a good omen.
“You going to reciprocate?” Athol asked as he inched his jeans and boxers over his cock. The head glistened with pre cum, and Edan’s indrawn breath, told him more than words that the sight excited both of them.
“Who’s the, ah fuck it, lets just both ask and receive, eh?” Edan toed off his shoes and undid his belt buckle in a hurry. “Last one naked loses the next decision.”
Athol laughed as his shoes caught in his jeans as he tried to remove the clothes and not the footwear. It wasn’t possible, so with a quick check of where Edan stood, he grinned and pushed Edan. Edan whooped and fell onto the bed with his denims around his ankles. He waved his legs in the air.
“Yeah.” Athol jumped and landed on the bed next to Edan. He rolled over and grabbed Edan to hold him close, and thrust his tongue in between Edan’s parted lips.
This kiss was different. As Edan’s male, musky, scent surrounded him Athol knew tears were close. He’d missed this man as if a limb had been severed. His man his other half, was finally here with him.
But for how long? Athol pushed the thought away and concentrated on using his tongue to touch the inside of Edan’s lips, and then stroke over the roof of Edan’s mouth.
Edan responded in an equally aggressive manner. His teeth grazed Athol’s tongue and his lips sucked the flesh. Athol scrabbled for the waistband of Edan’s half removed denims and shoved for all his worth, to get them away from Edan’s body. In the back of his mind, he noticed Edan performed the same act with his, Athol’s, jeans. How they managed without unlocking their lips Athol had no idea, and didn’t care. All he desired was Edan naked and next to him.
Edan moved back, and the tiny few inches felt like the Grand Canyon with a force-eight gale to Athol.
“Shit, Ede, I need to feel you somehow. Make your mind up, for fuck’s sake. What’s going to happen next?” With a tremendous effort, Athol managed to shuck his shoes and jeans, thankful for the urge he’d had to go commando that morning.
“Bratty Dom.” Edan gasped the words as his fingers fumbled with the hem of Athol’s T-shirt. “Fuck, what’s this stuck on?” He held Athol’s T-shirt away from his torso.
“Hold on.” Athol inched the material up and over his nipples. Edan’s moan sent his cock into overdrive and his heart thudding. “Ah, you like?”
“Oh, I like.” Edan ran his finger over the silver ring through Athol’s right nipple. “How long have you had this?” He dipped his head and Athol about exploded as Edan circled the ring with his tongue and then tugged gently on it.
“Sh … er god, three, four, ah fuck, enough already. Let’s do more. Condoms?”
“Con … Fuck, shit, and bollocks.” Edan rolled onto his back and groaned. His dick stood up long, hard and slicked with his pre-cum. “No, I’ve been celibate for so long they’d have shriveled up. You?”
Athol echoed the groan, and laughed softly. What he really wanted to do was cry and rail. Talk about serendipity—not. Was this his punishment for what happened all those years ago? Why on earth would he have thought he’d need rubbers? He’d been more concerned he might need a box to protect himself from a kick or a punch. “Don’t talk daft. I’d forgotten what one looks like. Shit. Ah, well. Sixty-nine always was my favorite number. We’re clean, and I trust you.”
“And back.” Edan shuffled round until his head nestled so close to Athol’s cock Athol could feel his breath as it fanned over his heated skin. Athol grabbed Edan’s ass and pulled him closer so he could put his lips on Edan’s prick and give tiny little kisses along the length until he laved the head. With a mental sigh of pleasure, Athol pulled Edan’s cock into his mouth and swirled his tongue over it. He enjoyed the salty taste, inhaled the musky male scent, and reveled in the moans and sighs Edan made.
A tug on his own cock sent his heat beat racing, and his skin pricked with arousal. He closed his eyes to let himself sink deeper into those beautiful sensations. It was nigh on impossible to groan with pleasure with a mouth full of wet cock, but Athol knew his shudder of pleasure reverberated into Edan. He nuzzled his head further into Edan’s groin and grasped his ass even tighter. Edan reciprocated and together they began the nips and sucks of loving each other.
It wouldn’t last long. He wouldn’t last long. Athol had no illusions that he wouldn’t be able to stave his climax off. Nor did he want to. The climbing emotion, the increasing heat, the shuddering, juddering emotions, and taut skin, embraced him, and he let them flow through him.
A multi-published author of erotic romance, Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge. As once she is writing she is oblivious to everything else, her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.
https://www.facebook.com/rmcallan (my page)
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Love R x
The Arrangement by Bethany-Kris
Release Date: March 17th, 2014
Publisher: Crimson Romance
Genre: Contemporary, erotic romance, suspense
Length: 319 pages, estimated
Thank you so much to Molly for letting me stop by and talk about my latest release The Arrangement!
You are always welcome, Bethany-Kris! 🙂
One of the biggest things authors struggle with is writing the blurb. Oh, and the synopsis, but readers never see those. (They are a devil on an author’s back, trust me.) However, the readers do see, and usually at first or second glance, the blurb. It needs to catch from the first line. And basically, every darned line after.
Authors often pour over the blurb, or potential blurbs, or even just the few short sentences that will eventually make up the entire blurb, and wonder what they’re doing. It’s tough. It’s frustrating. We’re often left wondering if it even reflects the story well enough, or will it garner the attention it needs to.
When I sat down to write The Arrangement’s blurb, my feelings were no different. The only thing I knew was what the hook (the first line meant to catch and keep the potential eye) would be. And not necessarily the entire line, but just the first few words: Nothing will stop the Bratva mob boss…
From those lines alone, you could wave a broad arm over The Arrangement. So much of it fits into just those words. But what else does it say? It tells the reader, we’re looking at a mafia romance. We’re looking at a take no prisoner’s kind of hero. Is he a bad boy? Likely. Bratva? Russian.
Those words say a lot. And they will either make the reader curious, or tell them instantly the story isn’t for them.
Another thing we writers often attempt to do when writing a blurb, is use words that will have impact. When we first look at the blurb, what are the words that jumps out?
Murder. Mafia. The arrangement (as in, arranged marriage). Blazing. Secrets. Pain. Love. Violence. Deceit. Greed.
In one way or another, people will have a reaction to those words. Whether it’s understanding, or curiosity, they are placed and meant to draw feelings and reactions. They are meant to say, this is a romance. Not an easy one, or a clean one, but beneath it all, it is a romance. It says there is struggle. There is angst. And there is love.
Blurbs take time to write, especially a good one. They take a heck of a lot of practice. For once, I was very proud of one I wrote.
Nothing will stop the Bratva mob boss from taking back what’s his, and once he has her, he’ll do anything to keep her…
Viviana “Vine” Carducci’s and Anton Avdonin’s marriage was decided more than two decades ago. The deal between leading mafia families has more on the line than anyone knew, even if the Bratva and Cosa Nostra shouldn’t mix. When Vine’s family is murdered and she’s left with nothing more than her grief to survive the mob world alone, she believes the arrangement won’t see the light of day.
Anton can’t allow the one woman he was supposed to love get away. At the possibility of her death, he steps in to save her with guns blazing, knowing exactly what it might cost him: everything. But it’s been nearly a decade since their last meeting, and he can’t help but wonder if the woman he took back is the same girl he fell for all those years before.
Protected and loved, Vine is unable to forget their shared moments a lifetime ago, or the future she knows they’re owed. When an old flame of Anton’s shows up to rip the veil off the carefully constructed secrets he’d been hiding, she learns that nothing about her life is as it seems. But, that’s nothing compared to the bomb about to blow. Can Vine see beyond the pain and blood to take what she always wanted? And just how far will the mob prince go to keep her safe?
In a world where violence, deceit, and greed reign, your life is not your own, and sometimes, love has to be arranged.
“Why all the safety precautions if you’re expecting me to live openly here?” she asked. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”
Anton cocked a brow. “I’m hoping your uncle will be a lot less brazen if I’m not keeping you hidden.” He still hadn’t let go of her sides, those teasing thumbs of his rolling gently against the undersides of her breasts in tender motions. “Deny that you want this, too, Vine. You’ve always wanted me. You want this life because you were meant for it, and I have waited more than long enough to get you here living it with me.”
“You’re not giving me a choice. I’ve spent the last three years thinking that this arrangement was over, and then you come in with guns blazing and a house on lockdown, Anton. That’s … It’s not fair. You signed my death warrant doing this.”
Immediately, his hands left her skin. She wanted them back, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit that fact. “It was already signed.”
Placing his hands to his knees, Anton shook his head and muttered, “He was already getting ready to put out a hit on you. That guard of yours was probably going to be the one to do it to get his in with the family. I was hoping to see you back in the states before I approached you myself, but Sonny didn’t give me the chance.”
No one likes to off a woman, Vine.
She couldn’t help but remember Sam saying that. Would he have done it?
“You can’t possibly know that for sure.”
The look he gave turned her stomach with fear. “I can and I do, Vine. There are men in that organization who are less trustworthy than a snake. Even their eyes and ears can be bought. I stepped in now because I needed to, not because I thought you were ready, or that you wanted me to.”
An ache settled in her chest. How was she supposed to trust him?
“Sonny wouldn’t kill me simply because I wanted to marry you, Anton. I’m not worth a damn thing to him alive, nothing more than a nuisance he has to look after.” Frustrated by his lack of expression, her bitterness rose. “Dead I’m worth even less though, right?”
“Dead you’re worth nothing,” Anton admitted, hurting Viviana a little more. “That is exactly what your uncle wants to achieve. For secrets to remain hidden from his family and for his power to remain intact.”
That only left her more disturbed, emotions rolling from one thing to the next without ever landing on just one feeling. “Our families won’t merge now, regardless if we’re married or not. So you lied to me earlier when you said that’s what this was about. A marriage is only going to cause more issues. I’m worthless to the Bratva; you practically said so yourself.”
“No, you’re worth a great deal, especially if you’re married to me.”
“You’re hiding something from me,” she realized, hurt that he was lying again, even if it was by omission. Viviana couldn’t decide which stung worse—that he didn’t trust her, or that he thought she didn’t deserve to know whatever it was. “What aren’t you saying?”
Anton looked stricken, fingers drumming a quick beat on his thighs. “I gave them my word. It was supposed to be them explaining this to you if they desired to—all the reasons and things that happened years ago. It’s not my story to tell, and I promised. My word is all I’m worth if you consider the way I live; without it, I have nothing.” Reaching out, he cupped a hand over her knee and ran it along the inside of her jittery leg. With his fingers moving so softly against her inner thigh, he pressed his fingertips close enough to her center to make Viviana throb with need. Murmuring, he said, “Can’t you try to trust me? Viviana, you know me … you do.”
She ignored his plea. “Who, Anton?” His fingers pressed harder at her words, grip tightening when Viviana refused to react to his motions. What she really wanted was more. So much more of his hands on her body, but she didn’t dare speak that out loud. “Was it my father, or Nicoli? Who?”
“I can’t answer that right now.” With that, he stood and held out a hand for her to take. “Come, I’ll get you back in bed for the evening. Let you rest and get the last of that sedative out of your system. I promise you’ll feel better in the morning.”
Too exhausted to argue, her palm met his. Anton’s lips touched down to Viviana’s fingers in a flutter of movement. She wouldn’t have noticed the quick kiss had she not felt the heat of his mouth brushing along her sensitive skin. She might as well have been sixteen and falling for him all over again.
Viviana couldn’t figure out if she was willing enough to let him do it. It didn’t help that she wasn’t all too sure if she knew this man anymore. Was he the same one she wanted all those years ago? Had his feelings remained the same nearly a decade later … was that even possible? Could someone want another that much?
What was even more frightening was that with his blue eyes watching, and his hand connected with hers, waiting, Anton still felt like hers.
Just like he always had.
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Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother of two young sons, two cats, and two dogs. Between a full-time job, playing children, barking dogs, snuggling cats, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something…when she can find the time.
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