Friday, August 22, 2014

Addicted to Writing Presents Friday's Featured Title ~ A Wife for Jay Prescott by Rosemary Indra

Title: A Wife for Jay Prescott
Author: Rosemary Indra

Genre: contemporary romance
Excerpt Heat Level:
Book Heat Level: 1

Buy at Barnes & Noble:

From the moment Jay Prescott meets his new employee Lillian Ross, she turns his orderly life upside down. He’s captivated by her take charge attitude and shapely legs. To improve his grandmother’s morale after breaking her hip, he asks Lilli to pretend to be his girlfriend for two weeks. Their friendship grows and he realizes he wants a life long relationship with Lilli.

Lillian is attracted to her handsome boss despite his unsettled lifestyle. Remembering her own loving grandmother, she agrees to portray his girlfriend. Her attraction turns to love and she longs for Jay to see their relationship in a new light. When Lilli tells his grandmother the truth she has her own plans for Jay and Lilli.


The moment Jay Prescott opened the executive rest room door he encountered a delicate wild rose fragrance. The men’s room at the architectural firm of Prescott and Wilkes had on occasion smelled of his partner’s favorite green cigars or expensive aftershave, but never roses. Jay stepped back, double-checking the sign on the partially opened door. Written in white letters was the word "Men."

He breathed in the faint aroma which reminded him of a walk in a rose garden. Jay shook his head and walked farther into the carpeted lounge.

Obviously, he still suffered from jet lag if he allowed something this trivial to distract him. After a grueling three-week schedule in New York, where he’d battled record snowfall and frigid temperatures, Jay wasn’t sure which he’d looked forward to more -- returning to his regular schedule or to Oregon’s misty sunshine.

He looked around the corner expecting to see someone by the row of sinks. At first, the rest room appeared vacant; then the rustling sound of a paper bag caught his attention.

"Steve, is that you?" Jay called out to his partner.

"I thought I locked the door."

The voice from the last stall was muffled, but it was definitely a woman’s voice.  He moved closer and noticed the nylon-covered ankles, well-turned ankles, the best-looking ankles he’d seen in some time. Mesmerized, he watched her kick off one black pump. Before he could ask her why she was in the men’s room, he heard the sound of a zipper. Jay froze. Proper etiquette would call for him to leave, but he couldn’t tear his gaze off her wiggling toes as they celebrated their freedom.

"I’m sorry. No one was in here and I thought I’d be finished before anyone noticed. I’ll be out in just a minute."

Jay tried to recognize her voice, but she sounded as if she held something between her teeth. "Why are you changing in the men’s room?"

"I went jogging this morning."

"That doesn’t explain why you’re here." Jay crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Oh. The door to the women’s was locked with two "Out of Order" signs on it, and I have a meeting in less than ten minutes."

Ten minutes. With a glance at his watch, Jay swore under his breath--he also had a meeting.

Could the mysterious woman be the one Steve Wilkes hired while Jay was in New York? His partner had been evasive on the phone--something about a fresh new face and how she’d be good for the company.

Unable to curtail his curiosity any longer, Jay asked, "Are you the new personnel director?"

"Umm-hmm. I’ve only been here two weeks, and already I’m giving a presentation--Steve insisted."

Jay watched as she slipped her foot back into her shoe. He wondered how old she was. Judging from her light, breathless voice, she sounded rather young.

What an unusual way to meet an employee for the first time, behind a closed door in the men’s room no less! Although he hadn’t interviewed her, Jay didn’t doubt her qualifications. Steve had an uncanny feel for people. He had a reputation for hiring the right person for the right job.

Apparently she didn’t allow small obstacles to stand in her way, or she wouldn’t be changing in the men’s room. Instead she found solutions to her problems--he liked that trait. "I’m sure you’ll do fine."

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

The stall door opened, startling Jay. He stepped back so fast his feet started to slip out from under him. To prevent himself from falling he jerked back hitting his head on the wall. Tilting his head down, he rubbed the painful spot.

"That must hurt. Are you all right?" She moved closer.

His gaze traveled up the ankles he had secretly admired moments ago to her beige linen skirt and a white silk blouse. Not even her loose fitting blouse could hide her trim figure.  Her hand fiddling with her pearl necklace drew his attention. She had a good overall professional appearance--another plus for her. He watched her push back the thick spectacles that started to slide halfway down her nose. Her gray hair was stylishly short.

Gray hair? Heavy wrinkles flanked her mouth and creased her forehead. Stunned, Jay simply stared at her. He’d been admiring the legs of a woman who appeared to be as old as his grandmother.

"There’s a small button on the top of my blouse that I can’t reach. Would you fasten it for me?" She turned her back to him. "These old hands don’t cooperate like they used to," she explained.

He considered her request unusual, yet it didn’t surprise him. Nothing about their first meeting had been ordinary. Jay shrugged his shoulders and moved closer. He fumbled with the tiny button before it slipped through the loop. When his knuckles brushed against the soft skin at the nape of her neck, Jay jerked his hands back. He’d admired not only the older woman’s legs but also her silky skin.

"See that wasn’t so bad, now was it." She slipped on her suit jacket then retrieved a shopping bag and burgundy briefcase from the stall. A mischievous smile played across her lips. "You’re a good-looking young man. I bet you’ve helped a few women get dressed." She elbowed him in the side.

Amazed at her outspokenness, he continued to stare. So much for secretly admiring her. Jay’s mouth felt dry. He muttered something he hoped sounded acceptable.

He’d become so engrossed in their conversation he hadn’t given her lack of privacy a second thought. Or how she’d feel about it. Feeling guilty, Jay was at a loss for words to explain his inconsiderate behavior.

"Have a nice day," she said.

 Other titles by Rosemary Indra:

Thursday, August 21, 2014

Addicted to Writing Presents: Star Crossed by Christine Young

Star Crossed
Christine Young

Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 2

Ireland in 1817, when tensions are high between Protestants and Catholics and faey people guide the fate of villagers. A lovely Catholic lass stumbles upon the weakly ritual fisticuffing between Irish lads. She falls into the lap of a handsome young Protestant. Family ties, grudges, and two conniving faeries threaten their budding love. But the faeries outsmart themselves when they hijack a time machine that has mysteriously appeared in their forest.


Casey pushed on the green grass, trying to unwind herself from the man beneath her, but fell again. All right, Casey lass, you're in a heap of trouble right now with no way out. You are seeing the earth whirl and tumble around and you're on top of a brute of a man--a Protestant.

"All right, lads, we'll meet here next Sunday, same place, same time," her brother's voice filtered through the air as if it floated in the fog that surrounded Casey.

Once again she pushed on the damp grass and didn't seem to make headway, her arms feeling as if they'd changed to soggy twine. Don't you abandon me, Patrick O'Connell. You know I have the Devil's own luck. If you leave me here, I'll never forgive you.

"What about Casey?" one of her brother's friend asked. "She looks a little worse for the encounter."

"Do you think we should leave her here--with Kelly?"

"He's a right stand-up guy. Of course you can leave her here. We'll see her home," a Shaunasey said.

"Well, Kelly is a fine bloke. He won't hurt her. In fact with my feisty lil' sister involved, I fear for him--not her," Patrick said laughing. "She'll do as she pleases. She always does. How can I control her when father cannot? She does not need a second father." He shrugged his shoulder and looked behind him at his little sister as he strolled down the hill.

"She's hurt," another friend called after Patrick. "What kind of brother are you?"

"One who is tired of looking after an accident prone little lass. She has to take responsibility for herself sometime, does she not?"

"She is that," one commented. "You rescue her night and day."

~ * ~

"You should have blessed her with a wee bit o'Irish coordination," Oran said dryly as he flew to a hovering position near the girl.

"And you should remember what our blessed mother told us, 'if you cannot say anythin' nice, don't say anything at all'." Moya rose above the flower petal, her wings buzzing with her anger toward her brother.

"I didn't say anything that wasn't the truth." Oran whistled out of tune for a moment. "We could kidnap them."

"And that is your solution to everything?" Moya pointed one finger at him and shook it. "Why, Oran, I believe you may fancy the lass for yourself. I will not have it. Go play your tricks on someone else's charge. She is mine to see to safety and long life. And don't be forgettin' the lad is yours to watch over."

"You best stem your anger, Moya. You're wings have turned golden," Oran said with a hearty chuckle.

~ * ~

"Let Kelly handle her," Casey's brother said with a light chuckle. "He lost and so he must deal with the object of that loss and assume the consequences. It's only fair."

"Hey!" Kelly said, "Don't leave me here with your sister. It will be hell to pay. She's a little girl. What will your father say?"

The others laughed. "Just don't take too long to decide what to do with her. Little girl or not, father will come after you with his pistol."

I just turned eighteen years old--little girl--how dare he…

"Bloody hell, Patrick. What are you thinking?" Kelly cried out.

"I'm thinking the Catholics won this fight. What are you thinking?" Patrick turned his back on the pair and whistled a jaunty tune as he strolled down the hill.

"Revenge will be sweet. Next Sunday…" Kelly shook his fist at the departing back of Casey's brother.

From what seemed like a great distance Casey heard the moan emanating from inside her battered and bruised body. She squished her eyes together, wishing her head didn't pound so fiercely, and the ground spin so wildly. "Who are you?" she whispered next to the man's chest while a soft spring breeze whispered against her heated face.

"Who am I?" the man chuckled. "Lass, you are the one who landed atop me. I should be inquiring into who you are? Only I know." His hands rested around her waist and squeezed as if he were testing--perhaps exploring--entirely inappropriate. Yet for some strange reason, Casey didn't mind the supposed to be unwanted attention. "And I don't think your brother should have left you here with the likes of me. I'm afraid I've landed myself in a dangerous predicament. And I'm thinkin' one that will be very hard to explain."

"Shame on you," Casey said. "You take liberties." The words stole her breath and she had to lean on Kelly once more in order to minimize the pounding of her head and the strange feelings emanating from where his hands were.

"I only want to remove you from--my--ah--person. And if I were taking liberties with you, lass, you'd be near swooning with passion."

"Ah, it seems you are a wee bit arrogant," she opened her eyes and gazed into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. "The color of a summer sky," she whispered to him, still feeling woozy and not quite sure what he'd just told her--but thinking at the moment something besides the fall caused the earth to spin and the sky to tilt with a crazy, wild abandon.

"What is, lass?"

"Your eyes," she said, struggling against him and finally rolling to the side so she lay sprawled on the grass, staring into the sky she'd referred to a moment earlier and watching a white billowy cloud float past. "I'm not a little girl," she told him. "Don't ever call me that again."

"Then you want me to tell lies?" he asked with a lazy half-smile that stole Casey's heart and left her floundering. "I dinna think I can do that."

"It isn't a lie," she said, trying to sound indignant, yet frustrated beyond anything she'd ever felt before.

Other Novellas by Christine Young:

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Addicted to Writing ~ Safari Moon by Ann Christine


Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 2

Buy at Amazon:
Buy at Barnes & Noble:


Safari Moon by AnnChristine
Publisher: Rogue Phoenix Press
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Length: Full Length (154 pgs)
Rated: 5 Stars
Reviewed by It's  Raining Books

Funny and Sweet

Imagine, if you can, our hero, sound asleep and dreaming a delightful, erotic dream. Suddenly he is awakened by an almost naked, sexy woman, walking into his bedroom accompanied by her pet skunk.

And that is how Safari Moon begins. I chuckled to myself as I continued reading. It seemed that he, a wild life photographer, put an ad in the paper for an assistant, but somehow his Grandfather changed the ad and it now stated that he was desperately in need of a wife. Immediately our handsome, confirmed bachelor is surrounded by a bevy of giggling, panting, eager women wanting to marry him.

How he plans his escape from all the desperate women involves an old friend he gets to help him. Since the friend is presently engaged to someone else and doesn't really want to get involved, it's more than a little complicated. They arrive in Alaska, planning on pretending they are an item. Then Grandfather and Grandmother arrive. The story continues with much laughing on my part, and many misunderstandings, especially when the fiancé shows up.

The story is funny and complicated due to the fact that each of the two main characters are trying to pretend that they really don't care about each other. And since neither is able to keep his or her hands off the other, the story becomes hilarious.

Safari Moon is not your typical romance, and I really loved it.


Solo St. John, a wildlife photographer, is preparing for a trip to Alaska.  Suddenly, Solo finds women of all sorts invading his privacy, his home and his office, all cooing nonsense words and blatantly throwing themselves at him.  Solo doesn't know why, and he has no idea how to rid himself of the persistent women.  He finally decides to beg a favor of his best buddy Nyssa Harrington. 


Wanted: A professional wildlife photographer to take pictures in the Alaskan wilderness. Experience first hand a real safari moon. Call(555)381-1252 or send resumes to 2286 Main, Suite 2D Bend, Oregon.

Solo St. John was in the middle of an erotic dream about his buddy, Nyssa Harrington, when the click of his front door shutting brought him to instant alert mode.

Solo looked up, caught a flashing glimpse of a good deal of naked flesh; long legs, perfectly rounded derriere, and a waist he could span with his hands. The intruder's long blond hair curled around her shoulders an inch above the ties of her bikini top.

Then he saw the skunk. He blinked twice.

This woman and the skunk were not the subject of his brief and very strange dream, a fantasy that made his mind speed along at sixty in a residential zone. This was someone he had never seen before and he resented the intrusion.

"Hello," she cooed seductively from his living room. "Will you come out and play?"

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Addicted to Writing ~ Tell Tale Tuesday ~ Words to Die For by K. J. Dahlen

Title: Words to Die For
Author: K. J. Dahlen

Genre: Suspense
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 1

Phoebe Montgomery comes to La Crosse to find out what happened to her sister four years ago. What she finds instead is a journal. Written by a killer, she’s drawn into his net. Can she play the game he’s so good at and win, or will she become his next victim?


Phoebe sat in the big bay window and looked out over the city. From her new apartment above the Bodega Brew Café on Fourth Street in La Crosse, she could see up and down the street. She could see other bars and restaurants as well as shops. If she turned and looked south, she could see the baby blue bridge connecting Wisconsin and Minnesota and the outline of the Radisson Hotel.
She should have been in bed, but she was still wound up from moving in. She had come to La Crosse to check out the college, but she also had another reason for being here. This was the last place her older sister Sydney had been seen.
Sydney had been seven years older than Phoebe, but even with the age difference, the sisters had been close. When Sydney disappeared four years ago, Phoebe wanted to come here and look for her, but she'd only been sixteen and her parents wouldn't let her. Now she was an adult and could do what she wanted. But when she left home, her mother tried to talk to her about Sydney and letting go, but Phoebe didn't listen. She was here to find her sister, no matter the cost.
Because she didn't know how long it would take, she had rented an apartment downtown. Sydney had come here to go to the University of Wisconsin. She had gotten hooked on Archaeology from an old mummy movie when they were growing up, and she wanted to know more about how people in ancient times lived. UW-La Crosse had a fine program and she had come here to study.
The two girls had been planning a weekend together just before Sydney disappeared. When news had reached them at home, Phoebe's family had been devastated. Her parents had come to La Crosse to help the police but they hadn't found her. Now, four years later, Phoebe was still missing. The police had all but stopped looking for her a long time ago. They had other things to worry about; other crimes and missing persons, but Phoebe only had Sydney to worry about.
As she sat in the early hours of the morning looking out over the city, she couldn't help but say a prayer for her sister. If she was still in the city, Phoebe vowed to find her.
She got up from her spot in the window bench and made her way to the bedroom. Originally, this entire floor had been one single apartment, but that was back when the Bodega had been a Café, not a brewery. Now the upper floor had been divided in half, and it was two apartments. She rented the smaller side, although she had her pick of either, since either side was open for rent at the moment.
She made her way to the bedroom, and without turning on the lights, she tried to find her way to the bed. She was almost there when her foot hit a loose board and she turned her ankle. She fell to the floor and hissed as the pain shot up from her twisted ankle to her knee.
Grabbing her ankle, she waited for the pain to subside before she struggled to her feet and hobbled to the door for the light switch. Turning the switch on, she tottered back over to the bed and looked at her foot.
A dark bruise was already evident on her foot. Phoebe knew she had to wrap her foot or she wouldn't be able to walk on it tomorrow. She limped to the living room and began opening boxes she thought would have her first aid kit. When she finally found it, she took out the self-adhesive ace bandage and began wrapping her foot.
When she went back into the bedroom, she stopped off at the kitchen and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer then carefully made her way back to the bed. When she got close to where she fell, she looked the floor over carefully. The board she had tripped on was out of place, so she lifted it and was going to put it back when she caught sight of something in the floorboards.
Grabbing a flashlight she found several notebooks and a small box. Picking one of the books up, she opened it to find handwritten notes. She took the notebook up on the bed, and as she got comfortable, she put the ice on her ankle. She opened the book again and began reading the words.

"I came to her like a lover, at least
that's what she thought. Me, I knew
what I had to do. Before this night was
over, her life would end and mine
would go on much like before except
for one thing. I would relish her memory
like a fine wine.

Her memory would be full and robust,
pleasing to the palette, bursting with
energy as it slides down the throat.
Her body reminds me of alabaster
marble, carved lovingly into a work
of art. The perfect model of womanhood.

Her face frozen in death, her blood
cooling in her veins.
Seeing her like that was better than
making love to her in the heat of passion.
As I could feel myself reaching the point
of no return, I reached for the knife
to slit her throat. I knew I would
climax again when I saw her as she
would be later, cold in death.

Phoebe's eyes widened in horror as she read the words in the journal. Slowly she closed the book as the meaning of what she had read sank in. She shivered violently as the words seared into her brain then pushed the book away from her. She looked at the book on the bed in dreaded amazement for a few moments then leaned forward to retrieve it.