It's Blissemass! And for my contribution, I'm taking a look at some spooky Christmas traditions from around the world...

The Belsnickel is from the Palantine region of Germany. He shows up a week or two before Christmas, looking very ragged and mean dressed in ginger furs. In addition to his torn, tattered clothes he carries a switch in his hand with which to beat bad children. He knows exactly which children have misbehaved. Traditionally he uses the switch to punish them for past wrongs or the threat of the switch to ensure good behavior until Christmastime.  
​When the Belsnickel visits their homes to check up on children he announces his presence with a loud rap on the door or window with his stick. The children have to answer a question for him or sing him a song. If they are good and answer well, he will toss candies onto the floor. However if the children jump too quickly for the treats, they may end up getting a smack from the switch for being too greedy. 

Grýla was an ogre living in Iceland. Her third husband was a troll named  Leppalúði. She also had a fiendish cat called the Yule Cat... and thirteen mischievous sons known as the Yule Lads.
Grýla, had a horrible appearance with hooves, horns and a tail. She also had a habit of boiling and eating the children she kidnapped. In her defense she only did that to bad children.  
She used her supernatural sense of hearing to listen for misbehaving children all around the island. Around midwinter (Christmas time) she would leave her cave and collect the badly behaved children. The kidnapped children could repent their misdeeds and not be eaten.
Her story was so effective in traumatizing children into behaving that in 1746 a decree was adopted by the government to prohibit the use of Grýla's story.  

There is a belief in Southeastern Europe and Turkey of the existence of a race of underground goblins called the Kallikantzaroi.  They spend the year sawing the roots of the World Tree trying to bring it to collapse and destroy the earth.  Just as they are about to finish the twelve days of Christmas begin.  
This is the only time of the year they can emerge and torment humans, so they abandon their sawing and head to the surface. In their absence, the world tree heals itself and the cycle starts anew after the twelfth day.  
Humans can protect themselves from the Kallikantzaroi during this time. One way is to leave a colander on their doorstep. As they cannot count to 3 (it is a holy number) they will spend all night on the doorstep counting up to 2. Another method of protection is to leave the Yule Log or a fire burning in the fireplace so that they cannot enter through there. You can also put smelly shoes on the fire as an additional deterrent. Another way to keep them away is to mark your door with a black cross on Christmas Eve and burn incense.

And now for an excerpt from my featured Blissemass book, One for Sorrow...

“Dora.” Finn emerged from the narrow passage between the two cottages and stayed there, watching her. She wondered if he might have been waiting for her. She hoped he had. Very aware suddenly of the expanse of leg between skirt and shoes, she went to him. He drew her further into the shadows.

“I’m going to dinner at Eamon Archer’s house.” He hadn’t asked, so why did she feel the need to explain?

“I like this.” He slid his hand inside the sleeve of her blouse, caressing her upper arm. Dora had never been keen on relationships. The sense that her body was someone else’s to touch—to own—had never been a comfortable idea for her. How then, in this short space of time, had she reached a point where she never wanted Finn Brodie to stop touching her?

“I’d rather be here with you.”

“I know.”

Drawing her into his arms, he held her in that way that was unique to him. Exquisitely tender and yet heart-stoppingly stimulating. His lips, although they barely touched hers, told Dora a thousand things he could never articulate with his stilted speech. With a murmur of surrender, her own lips parted, allowing him to probe her mouth with his tongue, tasting and testing her. Breaking the kiss to move his head lower, he found her nipple, sucking hard through the thin fabric of her blouse. Weak-kneed, Dora leaned back against the cottage wall. Taking her hand in his, Finn placed it inside his jeans so that she could feel the taut muscles of his lower abdomen. Eagerly, Dora’s fingers travelled lower, seeking out his cock within the tight confines of his underwear. He was rock hard.

Dora groaned. “Is this what my life is going to be like from now on, Finn? I’m going to be soaking wet all the time, thinking of you?”

​One For Sorrow is available from Amazon

The Venetian lagoon is sprinkled with jewels, and one of them, of course, shines brighter than all the others put together. But just five miles from the dazzling gem that is Venice there sits a lonely, black opal. Its name is Poveglia. In contrast to its fascinating neighbor, it is silent and abandoned. An uninhabited, forbidden island. No tourists flock to these shores for romantic meals or gondola rides. There are no palaces or elegant bridges. And the differences don’t end there. Poveglia does not share Venice’s carnival mood, colors, heady scents and bright lights. There are no masquerades or festivals on Poveglia. No dancing in the streets. 

Known as the most haunted place on earth, Poveglia’s history reads like a horror story. It has been a quarantine station, a dumping ground for plague victims, a mental institution where a butcher experimented on the inmates…

It is said that so many people were burned and buried there that the soil is mostly human ash, that the local fishermen will not trawl its waters for fear of netting the bones of their ancestors, and that the psychiatrist who ran the hospital was strangled by a ghostly mist. Rumors abound, fueled by the fact that, even though Poveglia is a mere boat ride from Venice, it is almost impossible to visit the island. What caused this island’s history to become so tainted that it is spoken of only in whispers?  
   
The History of Poveglia
The first reference to the island can be found in the year 421, when people from Padua and Este fled there to escape the barbarian invasions. In 809, the residents heroically blocked the advance of the Frankish army into the Venetian lagoon. In 864, when Doge Pietro Tradonico was murdered by opposing Venetian nobles, several hundred of his followers fled to Poveglia. This increase in the island’s population earned it the status of podestà, or administrative municipality. 

In 1015, the Romanesque church of San Vitale was built on Poveglia with an attached monastery, and under this stabilizing influence, a small community of houses, gardens and vineyards thrived. Poveglia knew peace for close to four centuries, due largely to the rights conferred on its inhabitants to guide ships in and out of the harbor of Malamocco on the Lido.

In 1379, during the War of Chioggia between the Venetian Republic (the Serenissima) and Genoa, the government moved the whole population of Poveglia to another island, Giudecca. It is not clear whether this was to protect them, or because they were conniving with the enemy. A permanent fortification called the Octagon, which is still visible today, was built on strategically important Poveglia.

Poveglia’s story took another sinister turn in 1468 when the Venetian Republic designated the island as a lazaretto. Named after the biblical leper, Lazarus, a lazaretto was a place of confinement and isolation for carriers of contagious diseases, particularly of leprosy and plague. Thus, Poveglia became a quarantine station for the many ships entering the Laguna Veneta. Any vessels that were suspected of bearing plague, or other potentially infectious diseases, were detained at anchor just off the island’s shores until the authorities were satisfied that no contamination would be spread to the residents of Venice itself.

Poveglia began to pose a problem for the Most Serene Republic of Venice. Fishermen shunned the lagoon waters around its shores. Despite the fact that the fertile soil was ideal for growing grapes and olives, farmers always found compelling reasons why it would be better to settle elsewhere. In an attempt to reverse its reputation, in 1527 the Doge offered the island to the Camadolese monks. The monks refused.

With the arrival of the Black Death in 1576, thousands of dead bodies piled up in the streets of Venice. The stench of disease was appalling. The solution was to take the bodies to Poveglia and dump them in large pits or burn them on huge bonfires. As the bubonic plague tightened its grip on the Serene Republic, people panicked, and those showing even the slightest symptoms were dragged screaming from their homes and into waiting barges. At least one hundred thousand people were said to have died on Poveglia, forcibly transported there from their Venetian homes. Once the boats reached Poveglia, the dead were taken over the bridge to the plague-pits while the living took their chances in the ruins of the medieval settlement. As the epidemic intensified, the island became so overcrowded that the living were flung into burial pits or pitchforked onto bonfires along with the dead.

In 1630, health measures were relaxed during the season of the carnevale, leading to another outbreak of plague. The city of Venice was severely hit, with recorded casualties of 46,000 people out of a population of 140,000. Poveglia was once more used as the lazaretto. In 1661 the Doge offered the descendants of the original islanders the chance to move back to Poveglia and to rebuild their homes. They refused.

In 1805, under Napoleon’s rule, the church that had been on Poveglia for centuries was destroyed and the bell tower converted into a lighthouse. This razing of the last testament of its inhabited past marked the island’s grim entry into the modern era.

In 1922 the island became home to a psychiatric hospital. The patients of the hospital reported that they could see ghosts of plague victims on the island and that they were kept awake at night by the tortured wails of the suffering spirits.  

The story is that the doctor in charge decided to make a name for himself by experimenting on his subjects to find a cure for insanity.  Lobotomies were performed using crude tools like hand drills, chisels, and hammers.  Patients were taken to the bell tower where they were tortured and subjected to a number of inhumane horrors.

According to Poveglia folklore, after many years of performing these immoral acts, the evil doctor succumbed to the madness and began to see and hear the plague ridden spirits himself.  It is said that he threw himself from the bell tower, but he didn’t die.  According to a nurse who witnessed the incident, as he lay on the ground writhing in pain, a ghostly mist came up out of the ground and choked him to death.  The hospital was closed in 1968 and Poveglia has been abandoned ever since.

In 2014, Poveglia was put up for auction and bought for the sum of €513,000 (roughly $704,000) by Italian businessman Luigi Brugnaro. Opposition to Brugnaro’s bid from the community group Poveglia per Tutti (Poveglia for All), and the fact that Brugnaro is now Mayor of Venice, brought an end to his plans. At present, the future of the island remains undecided. 

Poveglia is the inspiration and setting for my gothic romance Island of Shadows. 

It's here at last! I couldn't wait any longer to share the cover for the third book in the Otherworld Series. What do you think? I hope you agree with me that it's every bit as beautiful as the first two. 

Otherworld Challenger will be published by Harlequin Nocturne in September 2016 and here's a short extract, just to tempt you...

“I’ll do it.”

The words had the same effect on the assembled company as a volley of bullets fired into the ornate ceiling of the vast banquet hall. Every head turned in the direction of the man who had uttered them. Lounging back on two legs of his chair, his broad shoulders against the wall and his booted feet on the round meeting table, he returned their stares with his customary nonchalance and continued munching on an apple.

“You can’t seriously be prepared to listen to him. He’d sell his grandmother to the imps if the price was right.” The words burst from Vashti’s lips before she could stop them.

“The Crown Princess Vashti is reminded of the Alliance’s fundamental principle of respect for all species.” The condemnatory voice of the clerk echoed around the room. “Moreover, all speakers must first be approved by Merlin Caledonius, Leader of the Council.”

Vashti felt a blush of embarrassment turn the heat of rage already burning her cheeks a darker shade of red. It didn’t help that he was openly smirking at her humiliation. “I withdraw my remark.” She spoke the words stiffly.

“Thank you.” Merlin Caledonius, or Cal as he preferred to be known, inclined his head in her direction before turning to address Jethro de Loix. “What will you do exactly?”

“Exactly what you want. Find the true King of the Faeries and bring him back here to challenge Moncoya for the crown.”
​
A murmur of interest rippled around the table and Vashti smothered her derisive exclamation by turning it into a cough. Couldn’t any of them see Jethro de Loix for the maverick he was? Even the way he was dressed flouted convention. Everyone else around the table respected the formality of the occasion. Not Jethro. His white-linen shirt was unbuttoned a little too far, the waistcoat he wore over it hung casually open. Those long, long legs were encased in a pair of well-worn black jeans and the battered boots that rested on the conference table looked like they had walked the length of Otherworld and back. Perhaps they had. With his overlong jet-black hair tied at the nape of his neck with a leather thong and his hawklike profile he was too—her mind searched for a suitable adjective and could only come up with swashbuckling—for this solemn setting.

Otherworld Challenger is available to pre-order from
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I'm often asked to explain what a gothic romance is, but sometimes I find it easier to explain what gothic romances are not, rather than what they are:

• Gothics are not paranormal romances. As a rule of thumb, the main protagonists in a gothic romance should be human beings. They may be affected by the supernatural or the unexplained, but they are not supernatural beings themselves. It’s possible they may be reincarnated, cursed or affected by ghosts. If they are vampires, werewolves, shifters etc. you are writing a paranormal romance not a gothic.
• Gothics are not horror stories. They may have strong elements of horror, but it is implied rather than explicit. It’s a creaking board in the attic or a trail of blood on the stairs. If your story features a chainsaw wielding killer carrying a severed head, you are writing horror not gothic.
• New gothics do have strong elements of eroticism. This can be implied or explicit. Steamy is good in a gothic romance, hot sex scenes go well with dark secrets. But gothic romances are not erotic romances. If sex is all your story has, you are not writing gothic!  

Welcome to the 139th week of My Sexy Saturday!

This week’s theme is My Sexy Love and it's about one thing and one thing only. That special someone. The one who floats your boat, who is the wind beneath your wings... you know what I mean, the one you just can’t live without. For us, the reader, it's that one person our favorite character lights up with, they can’t live without them and the story comes together as they fall in love with the right one.

Sexy can be different things to different people, such as romantic moments like walks on the beach, a home cooked meal or even take place in another galaxy. It's all about those characters, the ones who can’t get enough of each other as well as ones who are fighting their way back to being part of the world once again. These are the types of characters we can’t forget, the ones we want to take home and keep forever. As readers we love the kisses, the looks or touch of each and every one of our characters. Sexy has nothing to do with looks or status or even wealth. It doesn’t demand perfection and it isn’t pretentious but it does make us want to keep reading those books.

As always, the rules of My Sexy Saturday are simple. Each blogger posts an excerpt that is 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words that coveys true sexiness between their characters. My excerpt this week comes from my recent release Island of Shadows. 

Excerpt
“Come here,” Raul ordered.

Responding eagerly to the sensual command in his voice, I swam obediently to him, covering the distance between us. I slid a hand behind his head as if to kiss him, then, laughing, licked the salt water from his lips before swimming playfully away again. His growl was a combination of surprise and frustration, and then I heard the sound of his determined overarm strokes behind me. Because I wasn’t trying too hard to get away, he caught up with me between two large rocks that rose like quartz sentinels out of the azure depths. I turned to face him, my breath catching at the purposeful look on his face. He was standing on the lagoon’s coarse sandy bottom now, but I was still out of my depth. 

Raul reached out a hand and caught me by the waist, pulling me hard against him and then pushing me up against the rock, holding me there with his own body. His mouth moved down to nip at the tender flesh of my neck, and I gasped when I felt his instant erection pressing against the apex of my legs. I opened my legs wider, using my knees to hold either side of his hips. This action made Raul groan appreciatively. His fingers gripped my buttocks, lifting me against him, and I squirmed with excitement. Until now he had been so gentle, so careful with me. It was exactly what I had needed. But now I was ready for something more. I was ready for him. I knew he could see it in my face and feel it in my body. There was an urgency about my movements that wouldn’t allow him to be patient. He slid the top of my bathing suit down and I leaned back against the rock, gasping with pleasure as he rolled my nipple hard between his finger and thumb. Lifting me even higher so that I could wrap my legs around his waist, he freed his cock from the restriction of his shorts. His fingers tugged the tightly knitted material of my bathing suit aside so that he was pressed up against my naked sex, ready to enter me. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, passion making his voice harsh. 

“I want you. Now.” 

The last word came out on an impatient breath and, for emphasis, I closed my hand around the thick girth of his cock. Guiding him into me, I shuddered with pleasure as he slid all the way inside. We might be hidden from the island, unable to be seen, but the fact that we were here in the open added spice to the encounter that was both shocking and enticing. I clung tightly to Raul with my legs around his waist, letting him do all the work while I relished the feeling of the powerful muscles of his thighs and buttocks clenching as he rocked his whole body, using the water to add momentum to his movements. At the same time, his thumb relentlessly circled my clitoris. I loved the way his gaze concentrated on the point at which our bodies connected, focusing intently on my pleasure even as he lost himself in his own climax. Drawing myself upright, I stayed entwined around him for the longest time while we exchanged sweet, deep kisses that went on forever. 

“Having you inside me was the most wonderful thing I have ever felt,” I whispered. It didn’t feel disloyal to say it. Honesty couldn’t be wrong. This couldn’t be wrong.

Island of Shadows is available from Amazon

If you want to find out more about My Sexy Saturday, please click here

Readers, please visit us at our new Author Central where we’ll be sharing even more from our authors besides Saturday’s snippets. We’d love to have each and every one of you there as we’re starting new things this month with fun and prizes along the way.

Don't forget to check out this week's other My Sexy Saturday Bloggers!
Victoria Adams
Daryl Devore
Jessica E. Subject
Lucy Felthouse
Marie Tuhart
Sara Fields 
Lily Harlem
Author April Kelley
Ashe Barker
XtraOrdinary Romance
Alexis Duran
Sara Daniel
H K Carlton
My Sexy Saturday with Mr. Nash and Miss Jameson
Savanna Kougar Title Magic
Jennifer Lynne Erotic Romance
F. Leonora Solomon

Over two years ago, I wrote five gothic novels for Harlequin Shivers. They were what I think of as 'true' historical gothics, written in the first person and with all the shivery feel of implied horror. Of course, they are also very steamy love stories! For one reason or another, my favorite of those five stories never made it to publication. I'm pleased to say that I have now taken the decision to self-publish it.  

Island of Shadows is set in 1930s Venice. Mussolini is in power and there is a dark undercurrent to the glamour of the masquerades. Even so, the dazzling jewel that is Venice, shines bright in the canopy of the  Venetian lagoon.
But it was the nearby island of Poveglia that drew me to write this story. Poveglia has earned the reputation of being the most haunted place on earth. Uninhabited and forbidden, it sits lonely, silent and abandoned, in complete contrast to its dazzling neighbor. 

This is a romance in which two stories entwine. The love story between my hero and heroine, both of them characters who have been damaged by their past, is no less important than the love story between an island and its undead.

Blurb:
There is a dark undercurrent to the glamour of the lagoon and its lavish masquerades. The Ombra are a vampire-like race, living in the shadows. Instead of feasting on blood, they survive by feeding on the souls of the dead. The Ombra exist alongside the living without fear of detection. Having thrived for centuries, they are powerful, wealthy, fear no one and ruthlessly destroy those who stand in their way. 
Maggie Forbes has come to Venice to see if she can discover what happened to her husband, Martin, who disappeared on a research trip to the island of Poveglia, the most haunted place on earth. Soon after her arrival in Venice, Maggie makes the acquaintance of two very different men. Torn between friendship and lust, Maggie must follow in Martin's footsteps to unlock the secrets of Poveglia. 
But time is running out. The Ombra lord is seeking a bride and the wedding day is looming.

​Island of Shadows is available from Amazon

One of my favorite romantic heroes of all time is also one of the most unlikely. Freddy Standen, hero of Georgette Heyer's Cotillion, lacks the usual qualities necessary for a romantic lead. 

At first glance, Freddy's cousin Jack appears much more heroic and even Lord Legerwood, Freddy's own father, has his doubts about his son's mental capacity. Heyer doesn't assist the reader to overcome our first impression of Freddy. We meet a Dandy who lacks the intelligence to be aware of subtleties and undertones. His value among his peers is as a graceful dancer, a reliable source of decorating advice, and he is such safe company for the ladies that not even the most jealous of husbands could resent Freddy Standen's attentions to his wife. "Neither witty nor handsome; his disposition was retiring; and although he might be seen at any social gathering, he never (except by the excellence of his tailoring) drew attention to himself.” 

Even Freddy himself doesn't value his abilities particularly highly. Speaking of his brother, Charlie, Freddy tells his father, “I ain’t clever, like Charlie, but I ain’t such a sapskull as you think!” 

Yet, Freddy Standen is the most charming, endearing hero I have ever encountered. I re-read his and Kitty's story regularly and it delights  and amuses me every time.  

As for Kitty, she explains to Freddy's sister, Meg, part of the reason for her brother's appeal:  “I daresay Freddy might not be a great hand at slaying dragons, but you may depend upon it none of those knight-errants would be able to rescue one from a social fix, and you must own, Meg, that one has not the smallest need of a man who can kill dragons!” 

 Whatever fix Kitty gets into, she discovers that Freddy will go to any lengths to get her out of it. And therein lies his charm.  Freddy, isn’t a typical hero.  But he loves her. He has resourcefulness, intelligence, and his own unique wit and he will never let her down.  Despite his appearance, he is strong and dependable and that’s what made Kitty (and me) fall in love with him.

There are so many laugh out loud scenes from Cotillion featuring Freddy. This is one of them:
​The Egyptian Hall, which had been erected four years previously, was otherwise known as Bullock's Museum, and contained curiosities from the South Seas, from North and South America; a collection of armoury, and works of art; and had lately received, as an additional attraction, the Emperor Napoleon's travelling-carriage. Its cognomen was derived from the style of its architecture, which included inclined pilasters ornamented with hieroglyphics. It was an imposing edifice, but it had not previously tempted Mr Standen to inspect its many marvels. Nor, when he had penetrated beyond the vestibule, did he waste time in studying the exhibits tastefully arranged around the walls. The only object in which he was interested was found seated primly upon a chair, a catalogue in her gloved hands, and her gaze fixed thoughtfully upon the model of a Red Indian chief in full panoply of war. Of Lord Dolphinton there was no sign, a circumstance which caused Mr Standen to exclaim, quite contrary to his intention: "Well, if this don't beat the Dutch! First the fellow brings you to devilish place like this, and then he dashed well leaves you here!"

"Freddy!" cried Miss Charing, jumping almost out of her skin.

"And don't you say Freddy to me!" added Mr Standen severely. "I told you I wouldn't have it, Kit, and I dashed well meant it! Have the whole town talking!"

Kitty looked very much bewildered, but as it was plain that Mr Standen was filled with righteous wrath she refrained from protest, merely saying in a small, doubtful voice: "Frederick? Should I, in public, call you Mr Standen?"

"Call me Mr Standen?" said Freddy, thrown quite out of his stride. "No, of course you should not! Never heard such a silly question in my life! And it ain't a bit of use trying to turn the subject! Not one to take a pet for no reason, but this is the outside of enough, Kit!"

"I wasn't trying to turn the subject! You said I must not call you Freddy!"

Mr Standen stared at her. "Said you wasn't to call me Freddy? Nonsense!"

"But you did!" replied Kitty indignantly. "Just this moment past! I must own, I think it was very unkind in you, for I had no notion it was wrong!"

I have a confession to make. I am a synaesthete. It took me a long time to understand what that means. I see the days of the week, and to a lesser extent, the months of the year, letters of the alphabet and numbers as colours. I couldn’t understand why other people looked at me oddly when I said Monday was blue. Wasn’t it blue to everyone?

Monday is blue. Sunday is blue as well, but they are different shades of blue. Monday’s blue is dark and heavy, like an evening twilight, whereas Sunday’s blue is light, clear and dreamy. 

Another synaesthete will understand what I’m trying to say. If they have grapheme-colour synaesthesia, the most common form and the one I have. They will argue with me, of course, because they will see Monday and Sunday as different colours to mine.  

Perhaps one in every hundred people experiences this fascinating condition, described by the UK Synaesthesia Association in the following way:
In its simplest form it is best described as a “union of the senses” whereby two or more of the five senses that are normally experienced separately are involuntarily and automatically joined together. Some synaesthetes experience colour when they hear sounds or read words. Others experience tastes, smells, shapes or touches in almost any combination. These sensations are automatic and cannot be turned on or off. Synaesthesia isn’t a disease or illness and is not at all harmful. In fact, the vast majority of synaesthetes couldn’t imagine life without it.

To put synaesthesia in context... McConaughey’s character in True Detective is Rustin Cohle, a gifted sleuth. He has synaesthesia. On the trail of a serial killer, he can “smell the psychosphere” and he “tastes” aluminium and ash in the air. 

Famous Synaesthetes
Synaesthesia is reportedly eight times more common among artists, musicians and writers. The creative connections between the senses are seemingly heightened in synaesthetes.

Pharrell Williams sees music in colour, describing his synaesthesia as a conduit to God.

Jimi Hendrix described chords and harmonies as colours. 

Edgar Degas and Edvard Munch were both synaesthetes.

In his biography of Marilyn Monroe, Norman Mailer said, "she has a displacement of the senses that others take drugs to find".

Tilda Swinton thinks in food. She explained: “The word 'word' is a sort of gravy. 'Table' is a slightly dry cake. 'Tomato' is not actually tomato, it's lemony.”

Mozart said the key of D Major had a warm “orangey” sound to it, while B flat minor was blackish. A major was a rainbow of colours to him.

Vladimir Nabokov was a self-described synaesthete, who at a young age equated the number five with the colour red.

Why am I blogging about synaesthesia today? Well, today I’m celebrating the release of my young adult horror novella, Lovelady's Colours. I always wanted to write the story of a synaesthete. In this book, Lovelady’s colour related synaesthesia has a profound effect on his life and on the lives of those around him. The tagline for this book is ‘Lovelady sees the colours of nightmares’.
   
One day science might unlock the mystery that is synaesthesia. Until then, maybe we should enjoy the products of some of the talented people who have this incredible condition. I’m humbled to be in their company. Now, since it’s Tuesday, I’ll get on with the rest of my pine-forest green coloured day.

Oh, and why does Derek taste of earwax? Click here to find out more. 

Lovelady's Colours is available from: 
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Lovelady sees the colours of nightmares...
 
Forty years ago, five teenagers died in horrific circumstances inside the old house known as Lovelady’s Gwal. Now, the only survivor, Jake Merrion, has returned to tell their story. 
 
Back in 1975, sixteen year old Lovelady Jones was a boy with no identity. A boy who knew he was really a girl. A boy whose life was dominated by colour.

Lovelady can’t ignore the strange hold the house has over him, or the way it appears to respond to his emotions. Or the strange painting on the walls of Lovelady’s Gwal. Is it coincidence a new colour brightens with each friend’s brutal murder?

Is Lovelady prepared for the final reveal? Are you?

Excerpt

​2015

Over the old house, the sky has a curious red-gold hue that causes the cameraman to click his tongue in disapproval. The interviewer flicks a strand of long blonde hair back from her face and begins her introduction. Behind her, steely shadows lengthen around a single, castellated tower.

“For the first time in forty years, acclaimed writer and director, Jake Merrion, is returning to his home town of Llanbach in North Wales. His mission? To finally tell the story of Lovelady’s Gwâl. For a few weeks in the 1970s, this quirky sixteenth-century lodge made worldwide headlines when five teenagers died in mysterious and horrific circumstances within its walls. Their killer was never found. Was it a cult? Even, as some have suggested, a bizarre suicide pact? Possibly a brief but violent psychic manifestation? Ghostly homeowner Lovelady returning from beyond the grave to express her disapproval at the noisy modern-day intruders who used her home as a drink and drugs den? Merrion himself has never talked about what happened to his friends. Yet, when the authorities proposed the demolition of Lovelady’s Gwâl it was Jake Merrion who stepped in and bought this property, believed to be the oldest in the ancient region of Clwyd.”

She turns to the tall, dark-haired man at her side.

“What was your motive in saving Lovelady’s Gwâl from the bulldozers?”

Merrion’s eyes are green and curiously catlike. He takes a moment to look up at the house before turning back to her. “Five people I knew and loved died inside that house in 1975. I suppose I wanted it to remain standing as a memorial to them.”

“Yet you must be aware of the attention this place gets from ghost hunters, goths, and conspiracy theorists. Then, of course, there has been the recent spate of teenage suicides that have taken place here, each one a grisly attempt to re-enact one of the 1975 deaths. Press and internet speculation abounds surrounding the negative energy that appears to emanate from Lovelady’s Gwâl. Have you any comment to make about that?”

One corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “No.”

In spite of her obvious annoyance at such blatant non-cooperation, his lopsided smile is irresistible. She returns it, before trying a different approach. “Who was Lovelady?”

For the first time he looks directly at the camera. “That’s something I don’t suppose any of us will ever know for sure.”

The interviewer responds to a signal from the cameraman, and turns to Jake. “The light’s going so we’ll have to leave it there for now. We have footage from 1975 to splice in and some of the newspaper reports. I also have some questions about the film you are making, but we can do those in the hotel.”

“Okay.” He starts to turn away, then swings sharply back round to face her. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing. I didn’t speak.” She takes a step away from him, startled by the intensity in the depths of his eyes. “Why? What did you think I said?”

He looks up at the house and laughs. “I thought I heard a woman’s voice saying ‘Welcome home, Jake’.” He runs a hand through his hair. “This old place can do that to you.” He doesn’t elaborate on what ‘that’ might be. “Look, unless Llanbach has changed a lot while I’ve been away, it won’t boast much in the way of decent places to eat, but would you like to grab some dinner?”

She smiles up at him. He might be in his mid-fifties, but with his cat’s eyes and black hair that has only lightly been touched by grey at the temples, Jake Merrion is stunning. She too glances across at the house. At the oddly named Lovelady’s Gwâl. A faint breeze stirs the unkempt grass. The blank windows reflect nothing back at her. And something—some primal instinct that she can’t explain—tells her it would be a very bad idea to accept Jake Merrion’s invitation.        

“Sorry, I have things to do,” she says, stuffing her hands into her pockets and walking quickly away.

Lovelady's Colours will be published on February 16. It is available for pre-order from:
Amazon
MuseItUp
Barnes and Noble
Apple
Kobo

Welcome to the 127th week of My Sexy Saturday.

This week’s theme is A Sexy Encounter

We want to show you, our readers, those characters, the ones who can’t get enough of each other. These are the characters we can’t forget, the ones we want to take home and keep forever. We love to share the kisses, the looks or touches of each and every one of these special characters with you. That's what My Sexy Saturday is all about. 

As always, the rules of My Sexy Saturday are simple. Each blogger posts an excerpt that is 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words that coveys true sexiness between their characters. My excerpt this week comes from my forthcoming release Valley of Nightmares. 
​
Excerpt
His body pressed impatient and demanding against me. Gently he took hold of my chin, angling my face up to bring my lips closer to his mouth. As he kissed me I could feel his pulse race, instantly in time with my own. Our tongues met and began to dance and play, confident now in our knowledge of each other, delighting in anticipation of further sensual exploration. Our breathing grew heavy and languid. My nipples tensed painfully, aching for his wet tongue to soothe and torment them. As he ran his hand gently across my cheek and down my neck, I caught hold of it and placed it on my left breast. He swirled his finger around my nipple, through the thin cotton of my nightgown and flicked it lightly. I gasped and lifted my hips off the bed toward him.

“Not so fast,” he murmured. With tiny, staccato kisses, he moved down the length of my neck, and along my collarbone to the neckline of my gown. The tip of his tongue ran teasingly along the line where cloth and skin met. I shivered wildly as he continued this sensual exploration; his mouth, almost rough against the smoothness of my skin, slid lower and into my cleavage. Interrupting this anointment of my body, he pulled my nightgown up and swiftly over my head. I cried out in triumph and relief as his lips at last closed around my nipple and his tongue flicked my maddened flesh. Hurriedly, he removed his own clothes while I lay on my side, watching him. When he returned to the bed, he gave me a mischievous grin, before tipping me onto my back and sliding a possessive hand up along the inside of my thighs. He lay on his side, propped on one elbow so that he could watch me. His cool fingers were like an electric shock against my moist warmth, and I sighed, opening my legs wider to allow him access. His touch flirted with my flesh, teasing and stroking before delving deep inside me. Circling my throbbing clitoris with his thumb, he brought his lips back to suckle my nipple. The invisible cord that bound the nerve endings in those two places together tightened inside me, and I bucked wildly against him.

My hand trailed across his hip, needing to touch him, to feel him. Holding his length in my hand I guided him, with infuriating slowness, inch by inch into me. Ignoring his groan of frustration, I continued to control him, until he was fully inside.

“You said, ‘Not so fast,’” I reminded him teasingly, whispering it against his lips.

Only then did I release him and raise my hips to meet his wild thrusts, pushing back against him so that I could feel him filling me. The steel of his cock slammed into me faster and wilder, and I wrapped my legs around him, deepening the sensation until I teetered on the edge of madness. He sensed my climax building and, with a wicked grin in the half-light, pushed hard and then held still.

“Do I have to say it again? Not. So. Fast,” he murmured, stopping my movements by clamping his hands on my hips and punctuating the words with kisses along my jaw.

My own hands beat wildly and helplessly against his chest until, taking pity on me at last, he lunged again, tipping us both—me gasping and him shuddering—over the edge and into a maelstrom of ecstasy.

Valley of Nightmares is available to pre-order from
Amazon
Samhain
Kobo
iTunes
Google Play

If you want to find out more about My Sexy Saturday, please click here

Readers, please visit us at our new Author Central where we’ll be sharing even more from our authors besides Saturday’s snippets. We’d love to have each and every one of you there as we’re starting new things this month with fun and prizes along the way.

Don't forget to check out this week's other My Sexy Saturday Bloggers!
Kacey Hammell
Jessica E. Subject
S. J. Maylee
Unrandom Randomness - Bronwyn Heeley
Victoria Adams
Daryl Devore
Lucy Felthouse
April Kelley
Angelica Dawson
Layna Pimentel
Naomi Shaw
Carly Carson Sexy Romance
Lily Harlem - Accelerated Passion
Sara Fields
Marie Tuhart
Hello Romance
Teresa Noelle Roberts
XtraOrdinary Romance
Carollina Valdez
Dee Ann Palmer
Christi Barth's Blog
H K Carlton
Kisses, Caresses, Whispers in the Night
Dakota Skye --Indulge in Your Wildest Fantasies
F. Leonora Solomon
Maggie Carpenter - Spanking, Romance, BDSM
Savanna Kougar Title Magic

The first book in my paranormal romance series, Otherworld Protector, will be published on December 1st by Harlequin Nocturne, and I was overjoyed last week to learn that it has been nominated for a Romantic Times (RT) Reviewers' Choice Award!

I'm delighted to have been nominated alongside my fellow Nocturne authors Linda Thomas-Sundstrom, Karen Whiddon and Michele Hauf. What awesome, talented company to be in! Well done and good luck to all nominees in all categories. It's an amazing line up. 

RT gave Otherworld Protector 4.5 stars and said: The relationship between Cal and Stella is unique, complex and deeply sensual. Their forbidden romance keeps the tension ratcheted high. An engaging supporting cast and plenty of cunning and intrigue makes this a story readers will savor until the very end.
Full review here.  

Otherworld Protector, The Otherworld Series, Book One
​
A Sorcerer… Secrets and Seduction… 

When Stella Fallon journeys to Spain for a dream job, she never suspects that a cataclysmic confrontation is looming. Or that she is the last in an ancient line of dark sorcerers. 
For her new employer—an electronics billionaire—is actually a Faerie King desperate to harness Stella's powers so he can rule the Otherworld.  
The only one who can protect Stella is a man she once thought her guardian angel. Cal becomes human, but his centuries-old secret could destroy her trust. Still, the pair cannot deny their white-hot attraction as they seek refuge in a cave to prepare for a battle of epic magnitude…

Otherworld Protector is available to pre-order from 
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Kobo
iTunes
Google Play

Welcome to the 117th week of My Sexy Saturday.

This week’s theme is is While You Were Sexy

So many things can happen while you were sexy…things like falling in love with someone other than your boyfriend/girlfriend…or maybe taking a risk you wouldn’t normally take. That’s what the movie is all about…having a dream and risking for that dream…only to find it wasn’t what you really wanted or needed anyway. Our stories have lots of those themes.

Love is a dream for some, a risk for others. Sometimes it’s fulfilled or sometimes it just isn’t what the characters imagined. Remember Scarlett O’Hara at the end of Gone With The Wind…she realized she never really loved Ashley to begin with…it was Rhett all along. We think you get the drift of what this week’s theme is. 

As always, the rules of My Sexy Saturday are simple. Each blogger posts an excerpt that is 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words that coveys true sexiness between their characters. My excerpt this week comes from my Erotic Romantic Suspense story 'One For Sorrow'. 

Excerpt
“Dora.” Finn emerged from the narrow passage between the two cottages and stayed there, watching her. She wondered if he might have been waiting for her. She hoped he had. Very aware suddenly of the expanse of leg between skirt and shoes, she went to him. He drew her further into the shadows.

“I’m going to dinner at Eamon Archer’s house.” He hadn’t asked, so why did she feel the need to explain?

“I like this.” He slid his hand inside the sleeve of her blouse, caressing her upper arm. Dora had never been keen on relationships. The sense that her body was someone else’s to touch—to own—had never been a comfortable idea for her. How then, in this short space of time, had she reached a point where she never wanted Finn Brodie to stop touching her?

“I’d rather be here with you.”

“I know.”

Drawing her into his arms, he held her in that way that was unique to him. Exquisitely tender and yet heart-stoppingly stimulating. His lips, although they barely touched hers, told Dora a thousand things he could never articulate with his stilted speech. With a murmur of surrender, her own lips parted, allowing him to probe her mouth with his tongue, tasting and testing her. Breaking the kiss to move his head lower, he found her nipple, sucking hard through the thin fabric of her blouse. Weak-kneed, Dora leaned back against the cottage wall. Taking her hand in his, Finn placed it inside his jeans so that she could feel the taut muscles of his lower abdomen. Eagerly, Dora’s fingers travelled lower, seeking out his cock within the tight confines of his underwear. He was rock hard.

Dora groaned. “Is this what my life is going to be like from now on, Finn? I’m going to be soaking wet all the time, thinking of you?”

​One For Sorrow is available from Amazon

If you want to find out more about My Sexy Saturday, please click here
​
Readers, please visit us at our new Author Central where we’ll be sharing even more from our authors besides Saturday’s snippets. We’d love to have each and everyone of you there!

Don't forget to check out this week's other My Sexy Saturday Bloggers!
Unrandom Randomness - Bronwyn Heeley
One World Singles Blog
Pepper's Fetch: A Time For Us
Kacey Hammell
S. J. Maylee
Daryl Devore
Lucy Felthouse
Victoria Adams
Peggy jaeger
Marie Tuhart
Capri Montgomery
Ashe Barker
Jessica E. Subject
Alexis Duran
Maxine Douglas
Celine's Dreams-Erotic Romance by Celine Chatillon
April Kelley
Aubrey Cara
Demelza Carlton's Place - A Free Show
XtraOrdinary Romance
Savanna Kougar Title Magic
Shelli Rosewarne
Thianna Durston - M/M Romance with a hint of spice
H K Carlton
Christiane France
KC Kendricks Between the Keys
STEPBROTHER CHRISTMAS
Alexis Alvarez - Submission and Passion
F. Leonora Solomon -- While You Were Sexy. . .

The origin of the festival of Halloween has long been disputed, and the truth is that it has emerged from both pagan and Christian practices into the celebration that exists today.

Essentially, Halloween began with the Celtic pagan festival of Samhain, meaning 'Summer's End' which celebrates the end of harvest season. For thousands of years, our ancestors marked Samhain from sundown on October 31 until sundown on November 1 as the dying of the light before the winter.

The Celts believed that it was a time when the walls between our world and the next became thin and porous, allowing spirits to pass through, coming back to life on the day of Samhain to damage their crops. Places were set at the dinner table to appease and welcome the spirits. People would offer them food and drink, and light bonfires to ward off the evil spirits.
When the dead arrived, they were able to walk among us and be mistaken for us. That’s why we dress up to look like them. That way maybe we’ll fool them into thinking we’re dead as well and they won’t take us back with them. 

The Christian origin of the holiday is that it falls on the days before the feast of All Hallows, which was set in the eighth century to attempt to stamp out pagan celebrations. Christians would honour saints and pray for souls who have not yet reached heaven.

Celts dressed up in white with blackened faces during the festival of Samhain to trick the evil spirits that they believed would be roaming the earth before All Saints' Day on November 1st.

By the 11th century, this had been adapted by the Church into a tradition called 'souling'. Children go door-to-door, asking for soul cakes in exchange for praying for the souls of friends and relatives. They went dressed up as angels, demons or saints.

The origins of trick or treating and dressing up go back to the 16th century in Ireland, Scotland and Wales where people went door-to-door in costume asking for food in exchange for a poem or song. Many dressed up as souls of the dead, or Aos Si, and were protecting themselves from the spirits by impersonating them.

Costumes became more adventurous - in Victorian ages, they were influenced by gothic themes in literature, and dressed as bats and ghosts or what seemed exotic, such as an Egyptian pharaoh.

The phrase trick-or-treat was first used in America in 1927, with the traditions brought over to America by immigrants. 

Halloween 2015: Why do children trick-or-treat and what's with the scary costumes?

Welcome to the 112th week of My Sexy Saturday. This week’s theme is Our Sexy Date

A sexy date could be anything. The day they first went out, the day they first kissed, the day they got married. It could be a couple’s sexy anniversary date or maybe a date to meet for the very first time. It could be a date in space, a foreign country or just around the corner.

As always, the rules of My Sexy Saturday are that the excerpt should be 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words that covey true sexiness between the characters. My excerpt this week comes from A Kiss for a Highlander. 

Excerpt
He danced her out into the hall and paused under the chandelier. Martha, still recovering from the shock of his last words, threw him an enquiring glance, and he pointed up to where a solitary sprig of mistletoe nestled amid the greenery above their heads. “How on earth did you manage to smuggle that past Mrs. Glover?”

“She knows all about it,” Fraser informed her with a hint of smugness. “I have her blessing.”

The blaze of passion as she looked up into his eyes was so unexpected that, for a second, she wondered if her knees would hold her. She no longer had time to wonder anything. Fraser slid one hand around her waist and the other to the back of her neck. This close, his hazel eyes were mesmerizing, and she wasn’t sure if it was his heart or her own that thundered in her ears. She gripped the ruffles at the front of Fraser’s shirt tightly.

His breath stroked her cheek. “I have you, lass. I won’t let you fall.”

He kissed her. Momentarily, his lips were unexpectedly soft. Then his mouth was hard and demanding against hers, and his tongue swept inside, caressing and exploring her mouth. Martha rose onto the tips of her toes. Following her instincts, she pressed her body closer to Fraser’s. Her eyes widened as she felt the contrasting hardness of his body against the soft curves of her own. There was a primeval rightness about the feeling. It seemed natural to try to cleave ever nearer to him, as though parts of their bodies were actually made to fit together. Gradually she began to enjoy the new sensations, surrendering herself to them until they became quite intoxicating. A corresponding fizz of pleasure entered her bloodstream, and her whole body started to tingle.

So this was why people liked kissing! It was something she’d occasionally wondered about, almost as a disinterested bystander. After all, she had never, until now, imagined it would happen to her. She had been quite unable to imagine why there would be anything appealing about having another person’s mouth on her own. The thought of allowing another person to put his tongue inside her mouth had been something she found quite alarming. Now, shyly, Martha used her own tongue to explore Fraser’s mouth in return. He tasted of the wine they had drunk and of spices. He tasted delicious. Instantly, he tangled his hand in her hair, turning her head to the angle he wanted, deepening the kiss to bittersweet intensity. The tingling in her body increased and seemed to become more concentrated at a specific, exhilarating point. Here she was—Miss Martha Wantage, spinster of this parish—standing beneath the mistletoe, in the arms of a man she had known less than a month, with her tongue in his mouth and a wanton pulse beating between her legs. The mistletoe was certainly unleashing its mischief on this maiden’s behaviour.

That was when her knees did give way. But Fraser was true to his word and he didn’t let her fall.

A Kiss for a Highlander is available from: 
Amazon 
Samhain 
Barnes and Noble
Kobo
iTunes
Google Play

Welcome to Otherworld! I hope you’ll join me on my journey into this mystical realm.

I’m fascinated by the ancient Celtic idea of an ‘otherworld’ that is situated, not in some distant, unknown region of planetary space, but here on our own earth just out of sight and within our grasp…if we really believe in it and want it enough. 

Frequently, in faerie-lore, Otherworld was a subterranean world entered through caverns, hills, or mountains, and inhabited by many races and orders of beings, such as demons, shades, faeries, and gods. This magical world was divided into districts or kingdoms each with its own ruler, just like the world of mortals. 

Sometimes, the Celtic Otherworld was located in the middle of the Western Ocean, as though it were the 'double' of the lost Atlantis. Faerie women came from that mid-Atlantic world in magic boats like spirit boats, to charm away mortal men, or else to take King Arthur when he was wounded unto death. And on that island world there was neither death, nor pain nor suffering. Instead there was only immortal and unfading youth, endless joy and feasting.

Alternatively, at rare intervals, like a phantom, Otherworld appears far out on the Atlantic. As late as the summer of 1908 it is said to have been seen from West Ireland. Or a strange invisible island, inhabited by invisible, faerie gentry, is seen once every seven years near Innishmurray. 

I believe the truth is simpler and yet more complex. Otherworld exists everywhere. It is right here, alongside our mortal realm, just out of sight but easily within reach. All we need is a belief in its existence and a desire to go there.
​
The Otherworld in my forthcoming series for Harlequin Nocturne is a beautiful place inhabited by many races, including faeries, vampires, lycanthropes, phantoms and gods. Unfortunately, the constant battles between these warring dynasties threaten to spill over into the mortal realm.

Otherworld Protector is available to pre-order fromAmazon
Barnes and Noble
Kobo
iTunes
Google Play

Welcome to the 111th week of My Sexy Saturday.

This week’s theme is Sexy Today

A little over two years ago, we had an idea…an idea that sexy meant different things to different people…we knew this was true because of the books we read and wrote. We wanted to share sexy with everyone. We wanted authors from sweet to sensual to smoking hot to come and share with us their idea of sexy.

And come they did. In droves, some weeks better than others but everyone shared their dream of what sexy meant. Last week it was a sexy boy, the week before that the sexy girlfriend. Each week we’ve had a different theme and have had authors post using that theme as a base board to start with. We even encourage them to post when their story doesn’t fit that theme because sharing is sexy and we all want to read just the good stuff every once in a while.

So today, there really is no theme except sexy today. Authors are free to post whatever they want within the normal rules. Just make it sexy, sexy and more sexy.

For the readers, please visit us at our new Author Central where we’ll be sharing even more from our authors. It’s also the place to hear all about our 100th week Anniversary Bash next Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Get all the details for all the prizes we’ll be giving away. We’d love to have each and everyone of you there.

The rules of My Sexy Saturday are always the same. Each author posts 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words that they consider embodies sexy around this week's theme. 

My Excerpt this week is from my latest release, Taming His Rebel Lady, in which Edwin and Iona turn a carriage ride into something more adventurous... 

Excerpt
Iona moved onto her hands and knees, her fingers gripping the carriage seat she had vacated.

Edwin moved to kneel behind her, lifting her skirts up to her waist. He held on to her hips and probed the slit of her sex with the head of his cock. The lurching of the vehicle added to the challenge, and Iona laughed as he slipped away from her. Cursing, he moved back into place. Taking a breath, he rammed himself into her. Her inner muscles tightened around him, her liquid warmth welcomed him.

“Oh dear God.” She pushed back against him, drawing his cock deeper. “You feel so good.”

“That’s what I was about to say.” He began to pound into her. The carriage swung from side to side, adding to the urgency of the encounter. Iona’s moans became cries and then screams. As she orgasmed, her muscles squeezed him. The sensation was enough to send Edwin over the edge. He came hard, gripping her hips and thrusting until he had fully spent himself.

Iona’s knees gave way, and she tumbled forward dragging Edwin with her. Laughing, he pulled out of her and, after swiftly kissing her, managed to rearrange their clothing just in time for the carriage to draw to a halt in front of Cameron House.

“Not the most enjoyable evening I have ever spent, my lady,” he said, as he handed her down from the carriage and quirked an eye at her flushed countenance. “But it had its compensations.”
​
“Indeed, Sir Edwin.” Iona reached up a hand to straighten a lock of his powdered hair. “I have developed quite a fondness for carriage rides this night. Mayhap ’tis something we should do more often?”

Taming His Rebel Lady is available from: 
​Amazon
Samhain 
Barnes and Noble
Kobo
iTunes
Google Play

If you want to find out more about My Sexy Saturday, please click here

Don't forget to check out this week's other My Sexy Saturday Bloggers!
Unrandom Randomness - Bronwyn Heeley
April Kelley
Sara Daniel
Christina Phillips
Margo Bond Collins
Thianna Durston
S. J. Maylee
The Den of Debauchery's Garden Gazebo
Inkblots from the Inkstained Succubus
Jessica E. Subject
Sheri Fredricks, Modern Mythic Romance
Hello Romance
Alexis Duran
Celine's Dreams-Erotic Romance by Celine Chatillon
Seven McBay's Eromantica Blog
Madeline Archer's Blog
Rose Anderson ~ Calliope'sOtherWritingTablet
D'Ann Lindun
Mira Day
Kandi Silvers
Lily Harlem - SALE
Shyla Wolff's Thoughts
Reily's Point of View
Victoria Adams
Daryl Devore
Scarlet's Letters
The Writings and Ramblings of Colette Saucier
Lucy Felthouse
Arlene Hittle — Love & Laughter
Marie Tuhart
Tamara Lush-Hot Shade
diverse views: isn't romance for everyone?
Kacey Hammell
Peggy jaeger
Slow Burner by Sam Cheever
Shelli Rosewarne
Sabrina Devonshire Romances
Carollina Valdez
Dee Ann Palmer
Ashe Barker
Barefoot at Midnight
Erzabet's Enchantments (Erzabet Bishop author)
elodie parkes erotic romance
XtraOrdinary Romance
Heloise West
Aubrey Cara
Casey McKay
Demelza Carlton's Place - 63 Emails
Title Magic Savanna Kougar
Donuts and Desires
my (first) sexy saturday by f. leonora solomon
Donna Michaels-Donna's Dish
Alexis Alvarez
Pick a Genre Already - H K Carlton

Powder, patch, plaid and passion 

Who can resist a rebellious highlander, a romantic Jacobite lord, a dare-devil highwayman or a swashbuckling corsair? These are the heroes of my The Georgian Rebel Series, the men who fight hard for the cause they believe in, and harder for the women they love.

To celebrate the release of Taming His Rebel Lady, the second book in the series, I'll be taking part in a blog tour this week. The schedule is below. I hope you can join the celebrations!

September 15 
Desiree Holt 
Erotic Notions
Deal Sharing Aunt
September 16
Fresh Fiction
Inner Goddess
Jacklynn Love’s Reading  
September 17
Rachel Brimble Romance  
Read-Love-Blog 
September 18
Reviews by Crystal 
Fictional Rendezvous Bookblog 
September 21
Alice’s Book Wonderland   
Harlie’s Books         
Nat’s Book Nook 

Today, I'm delighted to welcome an author who has a captivating and poetic style of writing and a remarkable storytelling talent. She also moves seamlessly between writing in two languages, a gift of which I am very envious! Today's blog post is about her latest title, a Gothic romantic suspense intriguingly entitled Ruined Innocence. Welcome, Melinda de Ross!

Ruined Innocence Blurb
In the legendary Transylvania, a castle belonging to Countess Erzsébet Báthory is discovered. Cameraman Hunter Cole and broadcast journalist Serena Scott arrive to make a documentary about the discovery, and the sinister Hungarian noblewoman, known as the most prolific female serial killer in history. 

The two Americans could cope with roughing it in a fifteenth-century castle, with no modern amenities. They can even cope with each other, despite their initial mutual dislike for one another, which gradually turns into a mind-blowing attraction. 
But when two girls are tortured and killed in Báthory copycat style, the nearby village is shaken to the core. In terror, they wonder who will be next...

*WARNING: Intended for adult readership only. This book contains strong language, violence and explicit descriptions of sex.

Author’s Note
Erzsébet Báthory (1560-1614) is a known historical figure and was a Hungarian countess, also known as Elizabeth Báthory, The Blood Countess or Countess Dracula. She has been labeled the most prolific serial killer in history, being responsible for the torture and murder of hundreds of young girls. The exact number of her victims is unknown, but is estimated at six hundred and fifty. It is speculated that she kept a diary with the names of all her victims, but if such a document exists, it has never been made public.
*This work is entirely fiction. 


Ruined Innocence is available from Amazon

About the Author
Melinda De Ross (real name Anca-Melinda Coliolu) is an international author of Romanian origin. She writes in two languages, and her books combine the elegance specific to the European style with the modern appeal of the American culture. She has a Law degree and has been a professional target shooter for over a decade. Her favorite genre to read and write in is Romance, and anytime she prefers to watch a classic movie instead of going to a noisy club. 

She loves to hear from her readers, and you can find her at:
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Goodreads

It's Saturday, and that can only mean one thing... it's time for My Sexy Saturday! Welcome to the 109th week of My Sexy Saturday, the week in which we, a group of authors, share the sexiest scenes from our books with you, our readers.

This week's theme is 'My Sexy Girlfriend'. This is our nod to all the girlfriends out there, how their lover feels about them, and how they show it. There are the hidden looks, the longing gaze, the love shining in their eyes and all the things that come with love. Girlfriends come in all shapes and sizes, because sexy knows no bounds. Beauty, as they say, is in they eye of the beholder.

Sexy can be anything, such as romantic moments like a walk on the beach, a home cooked meal or even in another galaxy. It could be two lovers here on Earth dreaming about the day where they go on a magical vacation to another planet. Or staying right here at a wonderful place in our own world.

Sexy has nothing to do with looks or status or even wealth. It doesn’t demand perfection and it isn’t pretentious but it does make us want to read those stories and find out more about the lives of those characters.

The rules of My Sexy Saturday are simple. The post must be 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words only.

My own My Sexy Saturday excerpt this week comes from my new release, Taming His Rebel Lady. This is the second book in The Georgian Rebel Series, my historical romance series with Samhain Publishing. 

In this scene, Iona and Edwin have been forced to marry to avoid execution. They barely know each other, and this is their wedding night...

Excerpt
She had set a table at one side of the fire in the cosy room and brought them laden plates of steaming stew made with beef and barley. This had been accompanied by chunks of rough bread and the inevitable hefty dram of whisky for each of them. Iona sipped this now as she gazed down at her plate. It was the best way to avoid looking at the bed that dominated the room. Outside the window, the sky had darkened through shades of midnight blue to black. Edwin rose from his seat and drew the heavy worsted drapes across the narrow casement.
“You have done this before and I have not.” He resumed his seat. “You must tell me my role as a husband. Should I say something to reassure you about what is to come?”

“D’ye mean when we go to bed together?” A slight smile tugged at his lips before he nodded. “Och, no. That side of things does’nae worry me. I was married to Sir Donald for nigh on two years, ye ken.”

“You are a woman of vast experience, in other words?” She had the strangest feeling that he was laughing at her, although his face was serious.

“Well, ’tis not as if I’m an innocent wee virgin who’s never done it before.” She kept her voice brisk. “So you need not worry that I’ll be squeamish. ’Tis not as if we’ll do it very often, and ’tis an ordeal that is over and done with in a minute or two.” As if to prove she wasn’t concerned, she gave him what she hoped was a cheery smile. Naturally she was prepared to do her duty, but she couldn’t help being slightly apprehensive. Sir Donald had always been considerate, but she hardly knew this man. If his conduct in the barn was anything to go by, there was a possibility he might not be gentle with her.

He returned her gaze. “I fear you and I may have very different expectations.”

She gave this some thought, her head on one side. “I don’t understand how that can be. I mean, ’tis always the same, is it not? I’ll just lay back with my legs spread wide while you…”

“Enough!” He held up a hand, laughter escaping his lips. “I refuse to listen to this graphic account of the intricacies of the act of sexual intercourse while I eat my dinner.”

Taming His Rebel Lady will be published on September 15 and is available to pre-order now from:
Amazon
Samhain 
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Kobo
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