Sunday, July 05, 2015

Addicted to Writing PresentsRomance Sunday: The Purrfect Plan by Angela Castle

Series: Australian Shifters book 1
Author: Angel Castle
Genre: Erotic Romance
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 5


Fed up with men, but wanting a baby, Storm Wellington decides to take matters into her own hands, randomly selecting an obscure little town to find an unknowing sperm donor. Unknowingly, Storm walks into a town run and owned by big cat shifters. River Black, Alpha of Blacktown can’t believe his luck, finding his mate in his own town, even better, the lovely lush woman is more than eager. After a passionate night, Storm disappears without a trace, leaving River desperate to find her. Finally, tracking her down, River discovers the evidence of her single parenthood plans and is now pregnant with his cubs. River persuades Storm to return to Blacktown with him, but another has her eye on River and is determined to rid the town of any rival. In the sweltering heat of the Australian Summer, River must convince Storm to be his mate and protect her or risk losing her forever.

Chapter One

Storm Wellington wanted a baby more than anything. It was why she stood outside a bar in an obscure little place called Black Town.

Still, her desire did little to calm her apprehension, making her stomach twist almost painfully. With a firm grip on the door handle of the bar, she pushed it open, taking a few steps inside. The wafting smell of beer and cigarette smoke hit her. The low pounding beat of heavy rock music thumped in time with her frantically hammering heart. Work, damn you feet. She moved further into the dim interior, her gaze landing on the long black bar.

The plan was simple: to find a man, any man, willing to have no-strings-attached sex with her. She understood men well enough to know free pussy wasn't something they would easily refuse.

Hell, it didn't have to be a one-night stand; she would be well on her way once the deed was done. If you counted the removal of clothes into the equation, what, a whole five to ten minutes?

Be strong. Be confident, you can do this. She'd been chanting this same mantra since she'd left home. She chose this particular spot at random, by placing her hand over her eyes, then circling her finger before jabbing it at the map on her desk. Fate had decided to take her to Black Town after a quick internet search, finding it contained just what she needed; an out of the way bar and a motel room surrounded by native Australian Forest. It was a three hour drive, but the further away the place, the better. She plotted various seduction scenarios, along with timing her visit during the peak of her fertility cycle.

Storm quickly scanned the interior, noticing an empty stage at the back of the room with a small space where scattered round black tables were nicely complemented by sturdy looking silver and black metallic chairs. She spotted the cricket bat mounted on the wall behind the bar. With a boldly printed score chart: Bat- eleven: Bar patrons- zero. Did they get a lot of bar fights?

Her gaze roamed over the dozen or so bar patrons who stopped their low chatter to turn and stare at her. She saw why the place featured solid bar furniture. Each and every man in the bar displayed strong broad shoulders, thick firm necks, chiseled, handsome features and solid muscle. A mix of awe and wonder hit her as she realized none of them would weigh in at less than a hundred and eighty pounds. Wow! She'd struck genetic gold! As for the few women littered amongst them clothed in only simple jeans and t-shirts, they were, without exception, slim, bright eyed and cover-model gorgeous.

Storm drew comfort from the fact the men outnumbered the women. Panic threatened to rise. What if none of the men found her attractive enough? Not allowing herself to back pedal, she made her way to the bar.

Even if she was a far cry from the apparent beauties now surrounding her and clearly challenged in the height department, being only five foot three, her grandmother always taught her being neat and clean easily made up for her plain features.

She ran her hands down her skirt to smooth out the wrinkles. It didn't matter how she looked, because now was certainly not the time to be second-guessing herself. No doubts, just forward and onward, to do what she came here to do then get the hell out.

She moved away from the door. On reaching the bar, she smiled at the bartender and noticed him watching her with a curious expression.

"Can I have a coke, please?"

He arched an orange eyebrow. "Just a Coke?"

Alcohol was not on the cards tonight, even if she did desperately want something to calm her nerves and loosen the tension making nearly every muscle in her body ache.

"Yes, just a Coke."

The man reached under the counter, pulled out the trademark bottle and plonked it firmly on the counter before reaching for a glass and setting it next to her chosen beverage. Storm glanced down, digging around in her purse to pay for her drink.

"This one's on me, sugar."

Storm looked up, startled, not having heard the man approach. Remember what you're here for. Storm plastered on a friendly smile.

"Um, thank you."

Exotic dark chocolate eyes regarded her with interest; his rich brown hair haphazardly stuck out on his head as though he used his hand for a comb. Handsome, like every man in the bar, he would do nicely.

"I'll have a Coke too, Ted, just add a touch of hair in mine," he said with an impish smile. "So what's a lovely little lady like you doing in a place like this?"

Smooth. A touch cheesy, but sweet.

"Just travelling through. I've got a room at the motel for the night before heading home tomorrow. As the signs on the highway say, drowsy drivers die." Her pre-prepared lie came out easily.

"Well, I'm sure glad you stopped in, sugar." His grin was seductive.

Storm giggled and felt herself blush; maybe this wouldn't be so difficult after all.

"I'm Storm."

"Storm, I like that. Hamish Brown, at your service, little lady." He offered his hand.

Storm allowed her smile to widen before slipping her hand into his warm one. Yes, his services would do nicely.

Saturday, July 04, 2015

Addicted to Writing Presents Sci/fi Fantasy Saturday: SoulMate by McKinzie S. Heart

Soul Mate
McKinzie S. Heart
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 5


Erotic/Western Romance
It is 1882, Midwest North America and fiery Scottish lass Katlyn MacKenzie has inadvertently found herself working in a local saloon after her father’s death.  Handsome cowboy James Granger wants Kate more than he’s wanted any woman before so he is determined to make her his come hell or high-water.  She is tempted by his heated, experienced touch but will she succumb to his charms or will another stake his claim?  For in steps a strange suitor that will not be denied in his own quest for Kate’s heart, body, and soul.  His scorching kiss competes with James’s touch while they both pursue her.  But who will she choose?  Because though one offers passionate life and the other offers blissful death, only her Soul Mate can claim her.


To anyone else, the graveyard amounted to nothing more than a compilation of various intricately carved headstones that offered a glimpse into other’s past lives. But to Katlyn, it all appeared dark and ominous. She instantly yearned to leave. As the two moved from headstone to headstone searching for Houston’s grave, chills raced across her skin. She purposefully neglected to inform James of her “clan’s” sensitive nature. She and Margaret were the most sensitive of them all. She didn’t know why, but it had been generations since any like them had been born…at least that is what her father had told her. But such things could not be discussed with outsiders…ever. It was a part of the old way woven into her being from the beginning. It truly was the only part of the old way that she couldn’t release herself from. The feelings that raced through her ranged from hatred to long lost love. She knew for a fact these were the feelings carried by each and every soul around her. The weight of the night pressed in on her as though she had been placed in a small, shrinking room. If she didn’t leave soon, it would quickly overwhelm her. 

“Ok, James, let’s part ways so we can find it quicker,” she suggested rubbing her arms. 

“And leave such a delectable treat all on her own? I don’t know about that.” 

“Come on…it will be quicker.” 

“You’re right…good idea. The quicker we find him the quicker we can get back to the parlor.” 

“No, I don’t think so. The quicker I can get back to my parlor. I’m afraid we must say goodbye for the night when finished, my friend.” 

James understood this as a dismissal but it didn’t faze him. So what if he couldn’t make her his tonight? There was time…he would woo her…seduce her…until she gave in and he claimed her for his own. With all previous guilt now eliminated, he fully embraced the growing desire to have her…heart, body, and soul. He smiled with secret anticipation but instead replied, “Pity…well shoulda brought a lamp instead of relying on the moon. Sorry. Are you cold? That gown is somewhat revealing in the um…neckline area.” 

“Mind your own business, cowboy,” she snapped with growing discomfort as she kicked dirt onto his boots. 

James laughed heartily, shook each foot then moved away. 

Katlyn really had no intention of searching for his brother’s grave. She would head right back to where she had come from as soon as James left her sight…and now he was gone. Carefully, she worked her way back. The feelings pressed harder in on her almost suffocating. Where is the entrance? It hadn’t taken this long to come in. 

Friday, July 03, 2015

Addicted to Writing Presents Friday's Featured Title: Spirit of Love by J. L. Addicoat

Author: J. L. Addicoat
ISBN: 978-1-62420-067-0

Genre: Paranormal/Romance
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level:

Old buildings have an eerie haunting feeling, and the 17th Century Manor house in the Cornish countryside Julia intends to restore, is no exception. Originally her dead husband’s dream, she feels it’s up to her to complete it in his memory. When she arrives, she realizes it’ll take more than a quick clean to put the dilapidated old Manor to rights.
While exploring the house, she feels as someone, or something, is watching her. Darting shadows and movements, seen from the corner of her eyes, seem to confirm sinister happenings at the Manor in the past. The discovery of an old diary hidden in a chest of drawers and the story it tells, lead Julia in a different direction than she originally thought she would be taking.


A sense of foreboding settled in Julia's stomach as she quickly returned to the car. She didn't know what it was about the manor, but each time she visited, the hair stood up on the back of her neck. It felt as if something or someone was watching her.
Starting the car's engine, she drove slowly down the weedy, rutted path, the car bouncing as its wheels sank into the potholes. Julia cringed at the jolts and scraping sounds coming from underneath the vehicle. "I should never have sold the Landcruiser. What was I thinking, bringing the Jag?" She knew what she had been thinking. She was the Mistress of the Manor now, and wanted to show off.
As she bumped along through the avenue of trees, the manor revealed itself. Grey stone blocks of the fa├žade gave a haunting welcome. Julia swallowed a lump in her throat and tears pricked her eyes. It wasn't right. Richard should have been here with her. He'd wanted to restore the old mansion for a while. This was his dream house.
Instead, it had become his burial place.
She'd promised, while she knelt at his graveside, to restore the old manor in his memory. That had been two years ago. The memories of the time still haunted her. Grief and loneliness had held her back. Mentally, she felt stronger now, and able to accept having to carry on alone. "Get a grip on yourself Julia. It's an old house. It's bound to have a few creaks and groans."
Parking the Jag next to the front door, she unpacked, placing the bags in front of the massive wooden doors. The leering gargoyle face on the door knocker sent a shiver through her. Placing a hand over its face so she wouldn't have to look at it, Julia turned the door key in the lock and pushed the door open.
She'd never been inside the manor. Richard had gone inside, but she had stayed outside in the gardens. Just the look of the grey stone on the outside gave her an eerie feeling. The same feeling assailed her now. She glanced back. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Something or someone was watching her. She was sure of it.
Get inside and shut the door. Then they won't be able to see you. Quickly picking up her bags she kicked a small bag forward with her foot, in an effort to get everything inside and shut the door. After closing it, she turned around and gasped. The entrance opened in front of her. Large marble tiles covered the floor, with the roof looming high above. A hand-carved wooden staircase in front of her wound its way to the first floor.
Oh, Richard. If you could only see this as I am now. I can see you running up the stairs, sliding your hands over the banisters and pulling up the carpet to see the wood underneath. I can see the delight in your eyes.
She ran her fingers over a nearby wall. Tracing the raised wallpaper patterns with her fingertips brought a sense of loss, a heaviness to her heart. She could feel the loneliness of the building. To her, it felt neglected, like it hadn't been loved for quite a while. Like her. Great, now you're associating yourself with a building. A moldy, musty stench emanated from the old, red, patterned carpet on the stairs, and she wrinkled her nose at the smell.
Once, people had walked up and down the rich, red-carpeted staircase. She could imagine children sliding down its curved railing, laughing as they reached the curled end, then running back up the stairs again for another trip. She smiled at the visualization it brought to her mind.
Now, the only footsteps it felt were from the mice chewing holes in its carpet, showing the bare wooden boards underneath. Yes, this is a very sad house indeed. As she turned left into what appeared to be the library, she caught a shadowy movement from the corner of her eye. She spun and glanced around, but nothing was there.
"Hello, is anyone there?" Silence was her answer. Maybe a bird had flown in through a broken window somewhere? She shook her head, chiding herself for being silly and so jumpy. She laughed to herself. I'll be seeing ghosts next. A cold shiver ran through her at the thought.
Turning back, she walked into the library. Stopping just inside the door, Julia closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She could smell the books. Even if she had been blind, the aroma of the old paper would have told her exactly which room she was in. Bookcases lined the walls from the floor to the ceiling. They were full of dusty tomes, maps, and leather clad books. Lifting the dust covers off chairs and furniture as she walked around the room, she couldn't believe so much was still here. With a flick of her hand on a cloth, she uncovered a beautiful walnut sideboard. The glass was intact, as well. It'd look wonderful after she had given it a polish, she thought to herself. Old oil paintings hung in spaces on the walls, created just for them.
She stood in the center of the room and slowly turned in a circle. It dawned on her how much work was actually needed. Cleaning she could do, but she wouldn't be able to do it all herself. Help would have to be brought in, especially for the wiring and plumbing. Julia lowered herself into one of the chairs, realizing finally, the enormity of the job ahead of her.

Thursday, July 02, 2015

Addicted to Writing Presents: My Angel by Christine Young $0.99

My Angel by Christine Young
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level:


When her father decided to send her to a finishing school back East, Angela Chamberlain refused to be confined to stuffy drawing rooms. Instead, the daring spitfire who could shoot like a man and ride like the wind longed for a life of adventure and romance—and she knew exactly who could give it to her. Devil Blackmoor was a hired gun with a dangerous reputation. But Angela was willing to go to the ends of the earth to capture the handsome devil's heart.

He'd come to America looking for excitement, but Devil Blackmoor got more than he bargained for when he encountered a beautiful rebel who answered his kisses with a wild innocence that touched his very soul. Yet standing between them were more obstacles than either ever dreamed. For Devil had strapped on a gun for the wrong man. And that made Angela his enemy. Now he'll have to choose between his duty and the woman he loves more than life.


Denver, 1893

A polished azure sky looked down on a day that vacillated between winter and spring--a day unable to make up its mind. Cool breezes lifted Angela Chamberlain's brand-new canary yellow skirt off the moisture-laden sidewalk. A blazing hot sun dried the puddles in the street left over from last night's deluge.

Unlike the day, Angela had no trouble making up her mind. Angela knew what she wanted out of life. She touched one finger to the sapphire earrings adorning her newly pierced ears.

She wanted adventure.

She had a terrible craving to see the world--to climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower, to walk the Great Wall of China. She yearned to fly in a hot-air balloon high above the earth, or ride in a gondola in Venice. She wanted to fall in love with a man who was as brave and smart as her father and as dangerous as Devil Blackmoor.

Angela's wish list had no end.

Instead of adventure and romance, in three short weeks she'd be enrolled in Miss Somebody's finishing school for young ladies, where knowing which fork to use was more important than riding with the wind on her favorite horse, Kangee. A place where changing one's clothes three times or more each day was common practice.

Two days ago she'd told her father she didn't want to go.

And two days ago her father had told her she would learn to appreciate the schooling and that she was a very lucky young woman. He'd also promised her a trip to the continent for a graduation present.

A graduation present! She wanted to yell at him, but wisely kept her mouth shut. She wanted to travel now. Today. But more than anything, she didn't want to be confined to the stuffy drawing rooms in the East. Just like her father, she needed freedom. But her father meant to take the choice from her.

To gossip and chatter with rich society women was not her destiny. To know which wine was served with fish would not make her happy. This was his dream for her. Sam Chamberlain needed to look to his own heart and remember the choices he had made twenty-five years ago.

Her destiny was out there somewhere, waiting for her to snap it up and hold the moment close to her heart. She knew what she wanted, and to prove her point, she'd bought a camera and had the machine sent over to the hotel. She meant to photograph all her adventures, every nook and cranny, every monument, every intriguing person.

Across the street and down two blocks, Devil Blackmoor had just taken the saddle off his horse. He brushed the stallion's back, all the while petting the animal's sleek coat and crooning into the horse's ear. Mesmerized, she watched his hands and the gentle way he stroked the horse.

She wished she had her camera.

Devil Blackmoor commanded her attention. He symbolized everything a father cautioned his daughter to be wary of. Despite the warning, Devil's strong jaw, his powerful shoulders and the confident way he held himself beckoned to every feminine nerve in Angela's body.

Angela clutched her hands to her chest, willing her gaze to shift to something or someone who wouldn't shatter her senses and set her blood boiling. Helpless to control her wayward heart, she kept looking back at Devil. She noticed everything about him, the way he moved, the way his denim jeans clung to his legs and the way they molded to his backside. Devil laughed at something the bouncer from the saloon said, and when he smiled, one edge of his mouth tilted crookedly. Ange­la's heart swooned and fluttered, and she thought she might never breathe again.