Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Blog Tour - Justice Mine by Megan Mitcham



Book & Author details:

Justice Mine by Megan Mitcham
(Base Branch #2)
Publication date: October 1st 2014
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

Synopsis:
For justice. For country. For love.
After witnessing her friend’s sexual assault, seven year senior, Magdalena Wells escapes an attack with a few bruises and a thousand questions. As a journalist in practice, if not in pay, Mags vows to utilize the skills she mastered in the Democratic Republic of Congo and answer every single one, just as soon as she gets the hell out of town.
Law Pierce’s aim is rest and relaxation after two years undercover in South Africa on an extended Base Branch mission, but restlessness puts him in trouble’s path. As a servant of justice, Law will do everything in his power to keep trouble safe. The fact that trouble’s petite stature and luscious curves stir his every primal instinct is a massive inconvenience he struggles to ignore.
Together Magdalena and Law uncover a web of corruption and dirty lies that could set their country’s top official ablaze, if the inferno doesn’t consume them first.



Purchase:







My Review :

Rating - 5 Books


I was given an ARC in exchange for an honest review by the author

This novel is big WOW, I love the characters, story . I got sucked into the story from the very first page.  

Law and Magdalena had a great surprising Chemistry. I love them both as in. Their characters are easy to relate with.Immediately we were drawn to the story it was very compelling, they worked together and had a great ending


That is how you know a book is good, when it devours all your thoughts. I can say that the author has done a good job in executing this one. 




AUTHOR BIO:
Megan was born and raised among the live oaks and shrimp boats of the Mississippi Gulf Coast, where her enormous family still calls home. She attended college at the University of Southern Mississippi where she received a bachelor's degree in curriculum, instruction, and special education. For several years Megan worked as a teacher in Mississippi. She married and moved to South Carolina and worked for an international non-profit organization as an instructor and co-director.

In 2009 Megan fell in love with books. Until then, books had been a source for research or the topic of tests. But one day she read Mercy by Julie Garwood. And Oh Mercy, she was hooked!

Megan lives in Southern Arkansas where she pens sizzling suspense novels.

Author Links:





a Rafflecopter giveaway



Cover Reveal - Winter's Wolf by Tara Lain



Winter's Wolf 
(Tales of the Harker Pack #3)
By Tara Lain


Blurb:
Winter Thane was raised on the two cardinal rules of werewolf existence: don’t reveal yourself to humans under penalty of death, and there’s no such thing as a gay werewolf. It’s no surprise when his father drags him from his wild life in remote Canada back to Connecticut to meet his old pack in hopes it will persuade Winter to abandon his love of sex with human males. Of course Dad’s hopes are dashed when they come face-to-face with the gay werewolves in the Harker pack.

Winter takes one look at FBI agent, Matt Partridge, and decides bird is his favorite food. Partridge is embroiled in an investigation into drug dealing and the death of a fellow agent. He can’t let himself get distracted by the young, platinum-haired beast, but then Winter proves invaluable in the search for clues, a move that winds them both up in chains and facing imminent death. Winter quickly learns his father’s motives are questionable, the pack alphas are a bunch of pussies, humans aren’t quite what they seem, and nothing in the forests of Connecticut is pure except love. 




Release Date: 
February 27, 2015


You can pre-order your copy at


Also available for pre-order in paperback from Dreamspinner Press




Excerpt


Matt’s heart stopped beating. Cliché, Partridge. Watch the clichés. Still, that’s what it  felt  like. Walking  straight toward  him,  like  he  was  being  pulled  on  a  rubber  string, strode that huge hunk of gorgeous he’d seen two nights before. The one related to Cole Harker’s husband. The man moved like an animal, gliding and rippling, and the big bulge in the front of his jeans advertised another kind of animal. Big Bird! Shit, the thing had to  be  at least  at  half-mast,  and it looked  huge. Matt  wanted to  fall  down  and  worship. 

Control. Deep breath. He’ll probably walk right by.

Sweet Jesus, he stopped right in front of the table.

“Hi.  I’m  Winter  Thane.  I  saw  you  here  the  other  night  with  my,  uh,  cousin  by marriage, Cole Harker.”

Matt swallowed. Try to be cool. “Yes, I remember he went to speak with you. I’m Matt Partridge.”

“Yes.”

Matt’s eyes widened. Had Winter asked about  him? “Would  you,  uh, care to join me?”

“Thanks.”

Trying  not to  stare at the  play  of muscle in those  hard thighs and the large  bulge between proved more than he was up to. When he glanced up from his inspection, Winter Thane gazed at him with a small smile. It said Caught ya. Matt cleared his throat. “Uh, I was just about to order a beer. Would you like another?”

“No,  I’m  good,  thanks.”  Winter  wrapped  his  beautifully  shaped  lips  around  the head  of the  bottle,  seemed to lovingly  caress it  for  a  second,  and then  sucked  down  a drink.

Holy crap.

Matt waved at the waitress, who hurried over, gazing at Winter most of the time. He ordered a beer, and she rushed off, actually bumping into a patron because she couldn’t stop staring over her shoulder. Who could blame her? Matt chuckled. “You must get that a lot.”

The  guy  shook  that  snowflake  hair.  “No.  Where  I’m  from  there  aren’t  a  lot  of females.”

“You must enjoy being here.” Matt swallowed.

Winter  shrugged.  “City  guy  like  you’d  be  used  to  it.  For  me  it’s  new  and  pretty weird.”

Matt laughed. “Who’d look at me?”

Winter’s blue eyes flashed up. “Who wouldn’t?”

Matt’s  mouth  opened  but  nothing  came  out.  Finally  he  got  his  brain  and  tongue connected. “So, uh, you’re visiting the area?”

Winter’s pale brows pulled together. “My father’s theory is we’re here to stay. I’d say the jury’s out.”

“Not a good experience so far?”

“An  old Chinese  curse  said,  ‘May  you live in interesting times.’  So  far the trip’s been interesting.” Those melted ice eyes raised slowly to Matt. “But it could get better.”

Every  resolve  Matt  had  ever  made  tried  to  dissolve  in  that  field  of  blue.  Come on, Partridge. You’re investigating these people. The  arrival  of the  waitress  felt like  a lifeline, and  he  grabbed the  bottle, threw way too much money  on the table, and  drank down half the contents in one pull.

“Thank you, sir.” She batted her eyes at Winter and left.

Winter pointed at the bottle. “Thirsty?”

“Uh, yes, I guess so.”

“So you’re the law?”

“How’d you know that?”

Winter grinned. “Aside from the haircut that speaks of gray suits and gray cars?”

Matt ducked his head and ran a hand over his carefully barbered light brown hair. 

“Bad, huh?”

“Nah. It’s cute. Besides, I asked Ben Freedman about you.”

Matt’s heart leaped and stomach sank—the war of suspicion and desire. “Why?”

Again, the long, slow gaze. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

Matt frowned. Suspicion won. “Come on. Don’t give me that shit.”

Winter cocked his head. “You don’t believe me?”

“Of course  not. Why would a  guy like  you think  I’m  gorgeous?” He  drawled the word and narrowed his eyes. “Did you hear somewhere that I’m gay? What the fuck are you playing at?”

Winter smiled slowly. “I hoped you liked men. Or maybe I should say, I hoped you liked me.”

“Who the fuck wouldn’t like you?” He pushed his bottle away. “I should go.”

Winter’s  hand  clamped  on  his  forearm.  Long,  slender  fingers  carved  with  sinew. 

“Please don’t. I’m not a very civilized creature, so maybe I don’t know how to say what I feel.”

Matt tried to catch his breath. “And what’s that?”

“That I want to take you out into the trees and fuck you until you scream.”

Every cell in his body  froze—except his cock, which expanded like someone was blowing it up through a hose. “Who told you I’m gay?”

“No one. I don’t know if you’re gay. I don’t know if I’m gay. I don’t give a damn. I just know I want to suck you and fuck you until daylight.”

Matt  stared  into  those  mesmerizing  eyes,  and  his  hands  shook.  He  couldn’t  look away. “People don’t say shit like that.”

“People don’t. I do.”



About the Author

Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT erotic romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 23. Her best­selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. She often does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft. She lives with her soul­mate husband and her soul­mate dog in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town where she sets a lot of her books. Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!


You can find Tara at

               






Presented By


Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Blog Tour - Withering Hope by Layla Hagen








Book & Author details:

Withering Hope by Layla Hagen
Publication date: January 19th 2015
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:
*This will be a STANDALONE CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE.*
Aimee’s wedding is supposed to turn out perfect. Her dress, her fiancé and the location—the idyllic holiday ranch in Brazil—are perfect.
But all Aimee’s plans come crashing down when the private jet that’s taking her from the U.S. to the ranch—where her fiancé awaits her—defects mid-flight and the pilot is forced to perform an emergency landing in the heart of the Amazon rainforest.
With no way to reach civilisation, being rescued is Aimee and Tristan’s—the pilot—only hope. A slim one that slowly withers away, desperation taking its place. Because death wanders in the jungle under many forms: starvation, diseases. Beasts.
As Aimee and Tristan fight to find ways to survive, they grow closer. Together they discover that facing old, inner agonies carved by painful pasts takes just as much courage, if not even more, than facing the rainforest.

Despite her devotion to her fiancé, Aimee can’t hide her feelings for Tristan—the man for whom she’s slowly becoming everything. You can hide many things in the rainforest. But not lies. Or love.
Withering Hope is the story of a man who desperately needs forgiveness and the woman who brings him hope. It is a story in which hope births wings and blooms into a love that is as beautiful and intense as it is forbidden.


Goodreads B&N / iBooks / Kobo / Amazon




My Review :

Rating : 5 Books


The story is so amazing, very unique and  it's full of love.  This is the first time that I read this kind of story,  I'm hooked from first chapter to the last.  It's all about hope,love,fate,destiny and moving on. This is a well written story, you can imagine that you are part of the story and also there on the forest with Aimee and Tristan. 

Immediately drawn to the story it was very compelling . 

I hope that the author will write Chris story too. 
This book is truly amazing and I hope all of you give it a chance, it definitely deserves it.  

Good job Layla, I can't wait to read your next novel.






AUTHOR BIO
My name is Layla Hagen and I am a New Adult Contemporary Romance author.
I fell in love with books when I was nine years old, and my love affair with stories continues even now, many years later.
I write romantic stories and can’t wait to share them with the world.
And I drink coffee. Lots of it, in case the photo didn’t make it obvious enough

Author links:


a Rafflecopter giveaway



Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Book Blitz - One Night with her Roommate by Noelle Adams



Book & Author Details:

One Night with her Roommate by Noelle Adams
(One Night novellas, #5)
Publication date: January 2015
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:
Ever since her former roommates deserted her, Meg has had to share an apartment with a lazy, obnoxious ass. He won’t pick up after himself, and he refuses to get a good job. Plus, he doesn’t always wear enough clothes—which is really a problem, because he’s hot.

Maybe he’s occasionally funny. And every now and then he can be sweet. But mostly he’s just annoying. It doesn’t matter how much he’s starting to flirt with her—Meg is going to resist. She’s way too smart to fall for a guy who never takes anything seriously.

But then everything changes in only one night...



Goodreads / Amazon / B&N / iBooks






Excerpts from One Night with her Roommate by Noelle Adams

Excerpt 1:
“What’s the matter?” East asked in a different tone. He was still studying her face, and he seemed to see a lot more than he should, despite his lazy insouciance.
“Nothing,” she snapped, annoyed mostly at herself for being bothered so much at the thought of moving out. Her eyes dipped down again to discover that he was a little more erect than he’d been before. In response to the hot flash she felt, she added, “Would you mind putting that thing away?” She waved in the general direction of his groin, carefully keeping her gaze from settling there again.
He glanced down, as if surprised. Then he gave her a hot grin. “Where would you like me to put it?”
“Put it behind a towel or something.”
“And have a little respect. He’s not an ‘it’, you know.”
She had to choke back a laugh at his exaggeratedly aggrieved tone. “It’s a ‘he,’ is it? Does he have a name?”
“Of course.” East glanced down at himself and then back up to her face. “His name is South.”
There was no way Meg could hide the ripple of laughter at this ironic tone. She could see that East was smiling, as if he was pleased he’d amused her so much.
“Well, would you please put South away? Normal people don’t parade around naked, you know.”
“You’re the one who barged in here.” He was still smiling, but he wrapped his towel around his waist, hiding the part in question.
“And I don’t even want to know what you were doing in here on your own with a hard-on.” To hide her embarrassment as it hit home that she was with East naked, she made her voice even dryer than normal.
He chuckled again. “I was thinking about you, of course. And then you came in wearing nothing but my t-shirt and messy hair, looking like a wet dream, so it’s like my fantasies came to life.”

Excerpt 2:
She started to dig into her purse for her keys, but she looked up to check out his expression. He looked uncharacteristically quiet. And his tone was uncharacteristically gentle as he asked, “You okay?”
“Of course,” she replied, trying to sound natural and peppy. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“I’ve got nothing to tell you,” she said with a frown, feeling a familiar impatience return, since he was acting like he knew something of what she was feeling. “I’m happy for them. It’s great news.”
“Of course, it is. But that doesn’t mean happy is all you feel at hearing the news.”
She frowned, but her heart was starting to beat quickly, as if something important was about to happen. “Why would I be anything but happy for them?”
He stepped into her in a way that pressed her back against the door to her car. He braced a hand on the car beside her shoulder so he was kind of trapping her in place. But his expression wasn’t sexy or flirtatious. It was knowing and intimate somehow. “Maybe you’re kind of disappointed it’s not you.”
She gasped. “I’ve never had the slightest interest in Jake. Not the slightest!”
“I know that,” he murmured with a smile, his eyes almost caressing her face. “I meant maybe you’re disappointed that the engagement, the wedding, the marriage, the whole rosy fairytale isn’t happening to you.”
“Well, I’m not. I’m perfectly happy not being married.” It was the truth, so she could say it with wide eyes and no dissemblance.
His expression shifted, got a little warmer in a way she was very familiar with. “So you don’t secretly have daydreams about settling down in domestic bliss with me?”
Her pulse was throbbing wildly from his closeness and from the continued intimacy of his gaze, but she couldn’t keep a giggle from bubbling up. “You’re the last guy I’d daydream about domestic bliss with.”
“Ah, it must be other kinds of bliss I’m giving you in your daydreams.”
She flushed hot as his eyes were suddenly all about sex. All. About. Sex.
It took a minute for her recover, but her voice was mostly even when she said, “You don’t star in any of my daydreams. That’s your overinflated ego talking.” She clutched at the strap of her purse with both hands, since she desperately wanted to touch East’s chest.
It was only a couple of inches away.

Excerpt 3:
“I want to stay here.”
“Okay.” Meg tried very hard—and not very successfully—not to feel pleased by this decision. “Well, at least go to bed. You don’t look…good.”
He gave a huff of amusement. “Thanks a lot.”
“I just mean you look tired.” She reached up and pressed her palm against his rough jaw. “You look tired.”
“I am tired.” He leaned his face into her hand.
“Do you have a headache?” she asked, trying to make sense of the pained tension she saw on his face.
“Yeah.”
“So go to bed.” She felt deep and tender and protective, as if he were hers to take care of.
“I want you to come to bed with me.” His voice was slightly hoarse, and his eyes suddenly blazed with something that looked like need, like hunger, something far deeper than lust.
It thrilled her and terrified her both. She dropped her hand. “East, I can’t—“
He reached up and took her face in both of his hands. “I want you tonight.”
God help her, she wanted him too. So much. So deeply. So desperately. The emotions ran through her so powerfully she swayed on her feet.
But she’d been smart for too many years, and she couldn’t throw it all away now. She took a step back with a hitch in her breath. “I can’t.”
East’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Yeah,” he murmured, turning away and opening the refrigerator to pull out a beer. “That’s probably right.”
He popped the cap and then took his beer to sit on the couch. He kind of collapsed there, sprawled out over all three cushions. He looked so weary—almost wounded—that Meg simply couldn’t leave him alone.
She might wish that he didn’t come onto her at inappropriate times—in inappropriate ways—but she couldn’t seem to resent him.

Her brain told her that she should, but in this her brain had to be ignored.








AUTHOR BIO
(No author photo)
Noelle handwrote her first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and currently resides in Virginia, where she teaches English, reads any book she can get her hands on, and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.

She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances.

Author links:




a Rafflecopter giveaway



Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Blog Tour - Lovely by Elizabeth SaFleur









Lovely
Elite Doms of Washington Series
Book One
Elizabeth SaFleur

Published by: Troll River Publications

ISBN: 978-1-939564-48-1
ASIN: B00P3CHMQ0

Book Description:

Can you have love and power at the same time?

Congressman Jonathan Brond has mastered his work, his reputation and the art of sexual domination while keeping his family’s political legacy intact. But a chance encounter with college student Christiana Snow promises something he didn’t think was possible–meeting someone honest.

When the charismatic man proposes a summer of sensual, sexual submission, Christiana leaps into his world—the antidote to her bland life. But Washington, D.C. is an unforgiving place; soon gossip and scandal threatens their relationship.

Yet, in a town of players, sometimes introducing a new game is the only way out. Who knew love would be the winning plan?

Stand alone. Not a cliff-hanger.

Available at Amazon   Kobo  Smashwords Goodreads

For a sneak peak at the Elite Doms’ attempt to bring a little discipline to Washington, D.C., curious readers can download Holiday Ties,
the series’ first novelette, free from Amazon and Smashwords




My Review
Rating - 4.5 Books


I received ARC in exchange for an honest review. 

This is a fast paced super steamy novel.This book came so much than I expected,I love the unexpected twist and turn of events.I like this book the premises was great and the chemistry of the characters was A++.I got sucked into the story from the very first page.

Christiana is submissive,loyal with a big heart. Jonathan is very loving and he really want Christiana to trust him completely.

This page turner leaves you feeling vindicated and wanting more of HOT Jonathan.

I can say that the author has done a good job in executing this one. 






Chapter One

The Jefferson Suite had a reputation. Everyone said so.
Christiana Snow watched Henrick, the sous-chef, slip a red rose into the silver bud vase on the room service tray she’d been tasked to deliver. “There are some naughty stories about the guests that stay in that suite.” He winked. “Let me take you to dinner, and I’ll tell you all about it."
She turned her back on Henrick’s smirk—and his eyes that never seemed to travel farther north than her neck. Since the day Christiana started working at The Oak she’d fought the desire to bend her knees to force his gaze to her face. It would only give him the wrong idea.
Instead she threw back two ibuprofens with her milk and then set the glass into a nearby bin of dirty dishes. Gossip made her head hurt.
She felt Henrick’s eyes travel her body as she pushed the room service cart into the elevator. "For a reporter's daughter, you aren't very curious,” he called after her.
Curiosity wasn’t the issue. The Oak, which stood mere blocks from the White House, attracted politicians and paparazzi—and dozens of men, sporting earbuds attached to wires disappearing into their dark suits, sent to watch them both. It took real concentration to ignore the stories that the hotel’s staff collected like trophies.
At least the tips were good at the boutique hotel and restaurant, and the mundane work gave her time to think—or think forward, as her father always said. And that’s what she was going to do—think forward and move forward. She didn’t have time to get wrapped up in other people’s lives and certainly not the pseudo reality of the D.C. politicos.
The elevator creaked to a stop. Water sloshed in the silver pitcher as Christiana leaned over the cart to push the slatted metal door aside. A dusty, oil-paint smell greeted her as she started down the hallway, lined with canvases of hunting scenes set in over-sized, gilded frames higher than she was tall and wider than her arms could stretch.
Christiana took in a lungful of the stagnant air as she reached the Jefferson Suite’s double doors at the end of the corridor. She knocked and listened for the sound of footsteps. No one came.
Her leg danced with impatience. Mrs. DeCord’s order was Christiana’s last task of the day, and she wanted to finish it as fast as possible to rush off to meet Avery, her best friend. Christiana had agreed to be her “date” at some society fundraiser that afternoon.
Christiana studied the rich mahogany crown molding, lining the long hallway. Gold brocade wallpaper led her eyes to images of smiling women, draped in gossamer swaths of pastel blue and green fabric. They stared down from their ceiling mural home, their eyes cold and full of secrets.
Christiana knocked on the door once more. After no response, she pulled her master key card from her apron pocket and slipped it to the lock slot. The door cracked open but stopped against something on the other side. Through the gap in the door, she saw a man’s shoe lying on its side.
She called into the room, “Hello? Room service. Ma’am?” No one answered though muffled voices resonated deeper within.
Well, she couldn’t wait. She pushed harder on the door, and the shoe slid aside.
The cart’s wheels whispered over the marble entryway floor. She announced herself one more time. No reply. She picked up the man’s dress shoe, an expensive leather smell wafting to her nose. She set it down beside a tufted chair in the hall.
A male voice echoed from the bathroom off the suite’s master bedroom. “No, Yvette.”
“Please take me. I won’t say a thing.” Mrs. DeCord’s voice reverberated off the tile.
“You know our agreement.”
Mrs. DeCord whined, “I don’t understand why I wasn’t invited. I’ll show up anyway.”
“You won’t do any such thing, Yvette.” He spoke her name like a caress. “Take off your panties.”
Christiana’s insides seized at the man’s abrupt change in tone. Maybe she had heard wrong. After a long silence, she urged the cart forward, but the wheels bogged down on the plush carpet in the living area.
The voice spoke. “Bend over, put your hands on the counter. Good. Look in the mirror. Eyes on me, Yvette.”
Smack! A sharp slap pierced the air, and Christiana jerked backward as if stung. Mrs. DeCord moaned. Was she hurt?
Christiana couldn’t break her gaze, eyes glued on the bedroom doors. They weren’t closed completely. They were slightly ajar, a sliver of the interior showing through a small crack.
“Open your legs.” The man’s voice, sandpaper and velvet, rooted Christiana in place even though her heart fluttered wildly. “Very nice, baby.”
Christiana took a deep breath to steady herself, inhaling musk mixed with the fragrance of lilacs. Something else hung heavy in the air.
Mrs. DeCord’s whimpers grew louder.
Should she call, so they knew she wasn’t trying to hide her presence? If they saw her, would they realize she had overheard? Should she leave? If she abandoned the lunch, they’d know she’d heard and run away, probably to gossip.
“Mmm, you like that, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Christiana licked her lips at the man’s chocolate-caramel tone. She tried to place the voice—maybe he was a radio announcer. No, he sounded too sexy and way too dangerous.
Slap! Slap! Christiana’s leg bumped into the cart and silverware clanked. Water splashed on the linen, and she stilled, but no new sound came from the bedroom.
She couldn’t abandon the lunch in the middle of the living room. She’d just have to be quick. Christiana maneuvered the cart to the small bay window overlooking Pennsylvania Avenue. She set up the silver and lifted the dome on Mrs. DeCord’s salad.
“Touch yourself,” the deep, rich voice said. Christiana’s heart punched at her ribs, and she lifted one hand to her breast to still it. Her eyes darted to the doors.
She gulped and tried to shake off the sound of the man’s sexy intonation. Christiana tiptoed over to the French doors of the master bedroom and risked a peek into the room. The bed’s comforter wilted over one side of the bed, and sheets bunched in a tight wad at the foot, bulging through the brass rails of the footboard. Pillows lay scattered on the floor. Braided black ropes hung limply from the frame of the headboard. She envisioned a restrained body, spread-eagle and helpless on the bed. Oh, god.
A chill broke out across her body. Instinct told her to click the doors shut. She winced at the snick of the door jam. Did they hear her?
More whispers escaped from behind the closed doors. She couldn’t make out the words, but the sensual rhythm of his voice rose and fell in a soothing, hypnotic cadence. Christiana’s ears strained for the man’s instructions, for what he wanted Mrs. DeCord to do next. Footsteps brushed across the carpet in the bedroom. The man spoke in rumbling purrs, approaching the bed.
She bit her bottom lip when a thought arose about that strange, human scent.Sex. A pang hit between her thighs as an image slipped into place of the faceless man—with that voice—putting his mouth on Mrs. DeCord’s neck.
A long wail and an ecstatic groan drifted from inside the bedroom.
Christiana stepped back. She needed to leave—now. If caught eavesdropping, even accidentally, she’d be dismissed. Sheclutched the silver dome to her chest like a shield and slunk to the marble foyer. The man’s smoky voice oozed into the main room as the suite’s front door clacked behind her, a barrier to . . . what?
She jogged down the long hallway to the elevator, punched the call button, and tried to steady her breathing as the elevator creaked upward. The man’s voice still reverberated in her chest. Relief coursed through her body, glad she hadn’t run into either of them inside, especially him. One look and he would have guessed she’d heard, had sucked in the air, heavy with sex, and understood.
Her imagination settled on Mrs. DeCord pressed into the mattress under a dark, mysterious man. His lips floated over her breast. Christiana shook her head in a vain attempt to stop the image from evolving into the man slipping his hands between the woman’s legs.
Christiana hit the button twice more. Come on. She gave up on the antiquated elevator and headed to the stairs. More questions surfaced with each step downward.
Did Henrik’s wink mean he knew? Who was Mrs. DeCord hooking up with in the Jefferson Suite? The mystery man had done something carnal to her, something she’d wanted done, though Christiana couldn’t imagine what. Something with ropes and slaps and Lord knows what else. Maybe she should’ve listened when the other waitresses, huddled in the employee break room, tittered about who slipped through the hotel lobby trying not to be noticed.
Then again, maybe not. She began to understand why her manager, Brian, had directed staff to drop off the orders and avoid looking around. He had warned, “In the political climate of Washington, D.C., some things are best not to see.”
Christiana dislodged her overactive daydreaming and ran to the staff room to gather her things before clocking out. She jumped when her phone rang.
“Hey, get here already! I’m guarding your dress in the main ladies room. You know where,” Avery said. “I never wore it, and you seem to like blue.”
Avery’s closet enjoyed a regular turnover, as the budding socialite wouldn’t be caught dead photographed in anything twice. Christiana was the grateful recipient of Avery’s generosity. Her hand-me-downs were really more like hand-me-ups for Christiana.
She grabbed her purse from her locker. “I’m leaving right now. How come this event is so early?”
“Mom said it’d be like happy hour. It’s really so they can all start drinking earlier. Serve anyone interesting today?”
“No one special.” She glanced in the small mirror inside the door and smoothed down a few wispy bangs to cover up the two-inch scar on her forehead, now pink from exertion.
“Oh, come on. It’s an election year. Everyone wants to be seen.”
Christiana laughed. “You sound like my dad.” The silence on the other end signaled Avery wasn’t pleased with the comparison. Another faux pas—something Avery said Christiana was very good at making, like wearing the same dress to a charity event more than once.
“Um, do you know Mrs. DeCord?” Christiana asked.
“Sure. Former Miss Dallas, married to a high-powered lawyer. Well, at least for now. Women like that go through men like wardrobe changes. Why? What’d she do? Spill it.”
“Oh, nothing. She comes in from time to time.” Damn, she shouldn’t have asked. Avery’s natural investigative nature came alive when a fellow socialite’s name arose.
“Who was she with today? Not her husband?” Avery’s voice lit up with excitement.
“I don’t know what her husband looks like. It was probably him.”
Avery snorted. “Yeah, right. No one goes to The Oak with who they’re supposed to be with.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Look, I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”
Christiana stuffed her phone into her purse and sprinted to the garage.
Cars choked Constitution Avenue even on a Saturday. Tourist season had begun in Washington. Families clad in matching t-shirts and people carrying maps and cameras would soon replace D.C.’s full-time residents, who would escape the city for Rehoboth Beach on most muggy summer weekends.
She shifted in her seat and adjusted the air conditioning vents to blow directly over her clammy chest. Christiana glanced to the National Mall alongside Constitution Avenue. Stopping at a red light every thirty-five feet never used to bother her. It gave her time to take in the sights. But lately the Washington Monument’s constant pointing to the sky created an unsettling feeling. It only reminded her nothing really changes in D.C.
Christiana pulled up to the entrance of the Rosemont Country Club only ten minutes late. Sunlight bounced off the brass plaque on the white brick pillars, the only announcement to the outside world that the elite of Washington gathered at the other end of the dogwood-lined driveway. Members of Congress discussed budget negotiations while golfing and bored wives complained about Neiman Marcus inventory while sunning themselves on the terrace.
Avery’s family had held membership here since the club opened in the 1920s. Her great-grandfather was one of the founding members. The Churchill women had spent countless hours flipping from their backs to their fronts by the swimming pool and attending mixers and events in the cool evenings. Avery reveled in the ambience. Butterflies usually took over Christiana’s stomach at the thought of crossing the threshold of the country club though she attempted to raise a little gratitude for Avery’s generosity in letting her tag along. Or drag me along.
Christiana handed her keys to the valet, whose traditional red coat was replaced by a ridiculous number in black and pink. Oh, right, today’s event was a fundraiser for breast cancer research. Great, she’d be in blue while everyone else draped themselves in various shades of fuchsia and rose. She hoped no one would notice. She knew everyone would. Even when helping a great cause, Washington feasted on mistakes, and failure to heed dress codes was a major gaffe. It took a lot of time and money—none of which she had—to conform to all the rules of Avery’s world.
 She shook her head and tried to focus on not tripping up the stairs in her high-heeled sandals. But memories of work today and what she’d overheard at the Jefferson Suite kept replaying in her mind. Stop it. Chris.Think forward. She slipped through the massive oak door. 








About the Author:

Elizabeth SaFleur is an erotic romance author who is finally sharing what simmers in her imagination—lots of alpha males, seductive encounters, and love. For many years she lived and worked in her novels’ setting, Washington, D.C., in public relations. In her thirty-year career, she represented or encountered some of the city's powerful insiders.

Elizabeth now writes, tweets and posts under her pseudonym, Elizabeth SaFleur, since her former clients might be a little shocked at their past PR counselor’s new career choice.  Then again, perhaps they would fear they provided inspiration. (She has sworn secrecy.)

Her series, the Elite Doms of Washington, is contemporary erotic romance for the progressive woman—unafraid and unencumbered by society’s boundaries.

Lovely, the first novel in the series debuting in January 2015, was inspired one sunny day at an outside café in Washington Harbor where Elizabeth swore she witnessed a woman being lashed to a sailboat mast, happily. Lovely’s hero, Jonathan Brond, was born that day when he silently answered her unspoken question, “does she like that?” with yet another question: “Would you like to find out?”

Today Elizabeth shares twenty-eight, wildlife-filled acres in Central Virginia with her husband and dog, and is sometimes separated from her laptop to indulge in dance classes and visits to wineries and hiking trails with friends. She lives by one quote: “If you really want to be happy, nobody can stop you.”

Elizabeth is a member of the Romance Writers Association, the Washington Romance Writers, and avid reader of all fiction genres, but especially books with a happily-ever-after ending. Visit www.ElizabethSaFleur.com to drop her a note.


Publisher Website: http://www.trollriverpub.com/



Author Google+ profile: google.com/+ElizabethSaFleur









a Rafflecopter giveaway