Thursday, November 20, 2014

Author, author... A Diva in Manhattan by Aubrie Dionne

...read all about it !!



A Diva in Manhattan
Aubrie Dionne

 
A Date with the Diva
Fresh off a successful Italian tour, soprano soloist Alaina Amaldi returns to America on cloud nine. The Metropolitan Opera has invited her to guest star in their performance of Mozart’s Magic Flute, and she’s singing at the top of her game. But, to act the part of the sweet, young Pamina in love, she has to be likeable; something that has never come easily to her. On a quest to soften her diva-like image, she volunteers at an arts school for underprivileged children. Too bad the kids call her the opera witch…

Brett Robinson has moved to Manhattan to start afresh. Used to living on his own as a logger, he finds a job with a construction company repairing the sidewalk in front of the Metropolitan Opera House. What he didn’t count on was for one of those hoity-toity divas to strut straight past him and into his heart!

However, Brett knows that a guy like him doesn’t have a chance with a woman like Alaina. That is until an older woman asks him to attend a fundraiser, posing as her Wall Street stockbroker son. Before he knows it, Brett’s drinking cocktails with the gorgeous diva! Trouble is, she thinks he’s quite a few billion dollars richer. Is she as shallow as everyone claims, or will she still love what she sees when the tux comes off?


Amazon:

Bio:  Aubrie Dionne is an author and flutist in
New England. Her books have received the highest ratings from Romance Times Magazine and BTS Magazine, as well as Night Owl Reviews and Readers’ Favorite Reviews. She has guest blogged on the USA Today Happy Ever After Blog and the Dear Teen Me blog and signed books at the Boston Book Festival, Barnes and Noble, and the Romance Writers of America conference. Her books are published by HarperImpulse, Entangled Publishing, Astraea Press, Spencer Hill Press, Inkspell Publishing, and Lyrical Press. When she's not writing, Aubrie teaches flute and plays in orchestras.
Twitter: @authoraubrie

 


Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Author, author... Auctioned to the Spanish Dom by Doris O'Connor

...read all about it !!!





Auctioned to the Spanish Dom
by Doris O'Connor

Peyton King had a simple plan. Sign up for the Spectrum Auctions and finally get the story that will get her the promotion she craves.
It’s just her luck that the person who wins her is Pedro Hernandez. The Spanish Dom has been starring in her erotic dreams ever since they first butted heads in her professional life, and he proves impossible to resist, if downright scary.
The sadist in Pedro is looking forward to teaching the prickly reporter a lesson or two. However, when Peyton turns out to be a masochist her instinctive responses floor the experienced Dom. Maybe it’s just his age catching up with him, but this young reporter gets under his skin like no other sub ever has, and their play smashes through both of their emotional defences in record time.
When their relationship is put to the test, Pedro has to decide if he can trust his pequeñita.
She is a reporter after all…

Excerpt:
“Hmm, very nice, Pedro. She’s getting wetter by the minute waiting for your cock to fill her, but she won’t get that yet, will she?” Callused fingertips traced her jaw, and Peyton jumped at the unmistakable click in her ear, seconds before the buzzing of a vibrator.
Hands from behind her pulled her breasts out of her corset, and she jumped when the vibrations settled on one nipple while strong fingers pulled and kneaded the other one.
Pain followed pleasure as the biting sting of two nipple clamps attacked her sensitive buds simultaneously, and she bit her lip to absorb the pain, as they were tightened to such a degree she whimpered and shook her head. Anything to get away from that overbearing sensation.
“Shhh, take this for me.” Pedro’s soothing voice in her ear meant she pulled a deep breath into her body and pushed the pain away with her exhales.
“Good girl.” Jonas this time, so close that she smelled his minty breath and the heat of his naked torso burned into her skin. When had he taken his clothes off and was he completely naked?
Her imagination went into overdrive, and then the damn clamps on her nipples started to vibrate at the same time that someone held the vibrator against her clit. Shards of painful pleasure stabbed through her breast and settled deep in her clit.
“Oh god, no… yess.” Peyton didn’t know what came out of her mouth as her body hurled toward release at record speed. Dimly aware of something cold dribbling into her ass crack and the sensation of being stretched and filled to the maximum, Peyton desperately tried to stave off her orgasm, only to lose the fight when the plug in her ass started to vibrate too.
Her orgasm bust from her, breathtaking in its intensity, and Jonas laughed.
“Oh, you’ve done it now, baby.”
Sure enough, a hand crashed down on her ass, pushing her headfirst into another release, as the pain meant it could only be Pedro who paddled her behind. Her Sir hit hard, and he didn’t give her a moment’s peace to catch her breath. Neither did those damn vibrations on every one of her erogenous zones, and Peyton sobbed and pleaded to no avail.
“I can’t, please, no more…”
Both men laughed, and there was a moment’s respite, before the onslaught on her senses started again. They must have switched places, because the hits to her abused butt were softer this time, the hand massaging the sting away altogether gentler, while the hands grasping her breasts and pulling on her clamps were far harder.
“You’ll come as many times as we deem it necessary, pequeñita, and once you’re a sobbing, spent mess, we’ll both fuck you until you can’t walk.”
Heat rolled over Peyton’s skin at Pedro’s growled promise or threat, she couldn’t quite make up her mind as the men continued to assault her senses, until pain and pleasure were one and the same, and her body convulsed in one orgasm after the other. Tears ran out from under her blindfold, and Peyton screamed until she was hoarse. Eventually everything stopped, and Peyton went limp in her restraints, surrounded by Pedro’s strong arms.
“That’s my girl. Stay with us now.”
A water bottle was lifted to her lips and she drank eagerly. The cool water soothed her parched throat and she rested her head on the broad shoulder in front of her. Whose it was, she was too far gone to care, floating away in that happy space where her body was just a mass of delicious oversensitive tissues. Light touches were everywhere, keeping her floating and happy, as something cold was placed over her burning ass and the ankle cuffs removed.
Someone supported her from behind, his heavy breaths in her ear the most erotic sound ever, as ropes touched her skin and her pussy clenched in desperate need as those ropes rested either side of her slit.
“She’s so fucking responsive, Pedro.” Jonas’s voice sounded deeper, harsher, and puffs of air skittered across her wet labia as though he was on his knees, and looking his fill of her exposed cunt. That thought brought it with it another gush of her juices, and Jonas groaned against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
“Taste her for me. Tell me how wet she is. I want to hear her scream again.”
Pedro’s strained voice in her ear made her turn her head toward him and he devoured her mouth in a kiss, while Jonas’s first skillful lick against her pussy made her whimper into Pedro’s kiss.
Dear god in heaven, that man knew what to do with his tongue between her legs, and when Pedro broke the kiss and bit down hard on her bottom lip, everything inside Peyton tightened in need.
“Talk to me, Jonas. What does my girl taste like? Tell her how she makes you feel. How hard your cock is now. How much you want to fuck her.”
Pedro’s dirty words, and the utter command and authority behind them had Peyton teeter on the edge of yet another release, while Jonas lapped at her pussy as though he was drowning.
Trembles started in her thighs, and Pedro’s hands dug further into her legs as he held her open and Jonas tightened the ropes further and slid them to the seam of her thighs. More rope followed, wound around her legs and her torso until she was suspended in the air. Even her hair seemed to be caught up in the intricate patterns Jonas created, if the sharp and constant tug on her scalp was any indication.
Hot breaths blew against her slit again, and from far away she heard Jonas’s voice in-between licks of his tongue against her sensitive flesh.
“She’s so fucking wet, Pedro, and she tastes divine. Sweet like honey, and she likes it when we tell her that. Her cunt is clenching around my tongue, trying to draw me in. She’s squeezing my fingers and she’s so damn fucking tight, Pedro. Fuck.”




Authors Bio:
Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris... at least that's what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.

There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.
She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.
Writer of sensual, sassy, sexy romances

Author, author... Marcus Damanda with Devils in the Dark !!! + a giveaway

...read all about him !!  and don't forget to comment for the giveaway !!!



Please welcome Marcus Damanda !!!

It’s All About the Author…

1)  Please tell us 5 interesting facts about yourself that readers might not know about you …

Fun question! Here you go.
One: I’m a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and am able to fight with my hands, bo-staff, and sword. Thankfully, the ninjas haven’t attacked in months.
Two: I’ve seen KISS in concert 23 times.
Three: I have the movie EXCALIBUR memorized.
Four: I have framed maps of Middle Earth and Narnia hanging from my wall, along with some rare classic heavy metal albums.
Five: I’ve kept a glass jar of peaches in my closet at work for fourteen years, all in an attempt to age them into “Sploosh,” just like in Louis Sacher’s book HOLES. (The process takes 100 years, so I’ll need my descendants to finish it.)



2)  What do you like to do in your spare time?

I do a lot of online gaming. I play bass guitar (but not very well). I enjoy watching football and GAME OF THRONES. I’m always on the lookout for the next great horror or fantasy novel. I go for walks, occasionally do some target shooting.


3)  Is there one book that you love to read over and over again?  If so, what is it and what is it that keeps you coming back to it?

IT, by Stephen King, has called me back more than once. I first read it as a kid. Now, as an adult, seeing those characters the way King wrote them, alternating between their childhoods and their adult lives, just resonates with magic, heartbreak, and terror. You can skip the movie, though—total garbage.



4)  How did you get started writing and have you always wanted to be an author?

I started telling stories when I was very small. I started writing for fun at age nine. From that time on, being a professional author has been my number one ambition—no question. 



5)  If you for some reason couldn’t be an author, what would your other choice be?
Rock star. Disc jockey. School teacher. (Wink-wink.)



6)  Did you like school?  Were you a good student?

I was an atrocious middle school student, trapped in a private school I hated and tried to get kicked out of. High school was better—had the time of my life. It wasn’t until college that I did consistently well with my grades, though.



7)    When you write, is there a specific way you have to write, ie:  certain room, noise or quiet, computer or paper etc…

I plan my stories out on notecards. Once I have an idea of where I want the story to go, I turn those into an outline on the computer. After that, I write as much as I can, as fast as I can, until the book is done.



8)   If you could write a collaboration with another author, do you have one in mind and what would you write?

These days, I’d have to say Neal Shusterman. His UNWIND “dystology” simply blew my mind. I would have killed for an idea like that, so—well, if you can’t beat ’em, collaborate with ’em. Hey, Neal, are you reading this?

9)    How do you come up with your story ideas? 

Every writer draws from his or her own personal experience. In my case, that’s usually a very subconscious motivator, though. Generally, I sit down and brainstorm a few dozen absolutely stupid ideas until one of them just unexpectedly calls out to me.



10)                   Do titles stump you or do they come easy?  When do you pick a title, before the story is written or when it’s done?

My last two major projects were very different from each other in that regard. THE FOREVER SHOW didn’t get its title until I was nearly done with the first draft. I was honestly panicked I’d never think of anything I liked. But I had the title for THE DEVIL IN MISS DRAKE’S CLASS, and all three of its individual books, before I’d actually written any of it.


11)                   Do you keep a notebook near you for when new ideas pop into your head?

I keep a stack of multicolored notecards in a small plastic box—meticulously ordered, unlike my life.



12)                   If you write a series, do you re-read your previous books before you begin the new one?
Oh my god, yes. I don’t even write a chapter without re-reading at least the two chapters that came before. So, as it pertains to books, definitely. It helps me keep the same narrator’s voice. Or maybe I’m just obsessive.



13)                   How does your family feel about your writing?

They wish me great success and require quite a lot of arm twisting to actually read any of it. But you know what? I love them just fine, anyway.

Thanks for sharing “you as an author” with us !  We hope you’ll come back and visit again soon!

*****



Devils in the Dark
(The Devil in Miss Drake's Class, 1)
Marcus Damanda

16+ / horror/paranormal/27K


To most of the Facebook 15, bullying Audrey Bales was just a game—until two deep cuts with a Swiss army knife changed everything forever. Audrey didn’t want attention anymore. After five weeks at Fairview High School, Audrey wanted to die. 

The doctors did the only thing they could with her: they put her away. 

But in Fairview, Virginia, the nightmare is only beginning. The chat session had not gone unobserved. The Facebook 15 have drawn the attention of an ancient evil that lives only to punish those who would prey upon the weak. 

They are the ghosts of 1,000 dead children—1,000 suicides—and their master… 
Their master likes Audrey Bales. 

And as Audrey attempts to heal her mind and body, far from home, their master prepares for the revenge he will unleash upon her return.


Buy Links:     Evernight Teen    Amazon   


Excerpt:
Underneath the blackened veil of her powered-off monitor, the comments kept coming, kept taunting her.
The observer had stopped watching. He leaned back in his chair, head upturned to the ceiling, eyes closed, still eating. The overripe apple had a worm in it, and he sucked it down.
He projected his sight outward, miles and miles from his little home. He didn’t know where he was anymore.
Somebody’s house. An empty room. A closet.
Here he first saw the girl, the one they were tormenting. Her Facebook icon had shown only a skull and crossbones. In real life, she might have been pretty, if she had not worked so hard to hide it.
Familiar too. Something in her eyes and her lips.
She was close, very close, to a bad decision.
She was imagining the ghost of her brother and talking to it, opening boxes that contained his possessions. She listened to him speak words the observer could not hear. Oh, he wished he could. From this distance all he could hear was the pain inside of her, the loneliness, screams within whispers. An oncoming storm.
It made him angry on her behalf.
He returned his gaze to the real world of his apartment. The five of them were still chatting, their cruel banter punctuated by internet abbreviations and emoticons, calling for Audrey-Bear to say something, say something….
More joined the chat.
He shook his head.
You deserve to die, he thought. All of you.

****

Audrey returned to her bedroom and closed the door. This time, she broke a house rule and locked it. She put the blanket back in place and thumbed the monitor back on.
It was nearly one in the morning, yet the number of people on Cody’s page had tripled. Stranger still was the activity coming through on her end.
She gazed in bewilderment.
Benny Talbot has sent you a friend request.
Heather Roberts has sent you a friend request.
Ally Watson has sent you a friend request.
Gabriel Daniels has sent you a friend request.
Eleven requests, all kids from school. Most of them had sent her personal messages too. Some were fake-friendly, some openly mocking. Most pretended to rally in her support, as if they had somehow stumbled upon this Internet lynching by accident, all at the same time, and were offended by it. A virtual party had gathered in Cody’s little corner of cyberspace, and Audrey was the game they were playing.
Had Maggie called or texted them all out of bed?
“Creative,” she said. “You’re really good at this.”
She wasn’t crying anymore. In fact, she was perfectly calm. With the ghost of her brother standing by her side, she set his old Swiss Army knife—he’d gotten it for Scouts, before he had quit—next to the keyboard.
Click Accept, her brother said. For all of them. Now, before they give up and start to log off.
She accepted them all, and the result was chat room bedlam. The comments came faster than she could read. Evidently this was the very height of hilarity.
And, naturally, as soon as she had accepted them all, one-by-one, they unfriended her, and posted.
Just kidding!
Sry! Changed my mind!
What an idiot!
Inspired, she clicked the Like button over every comment. Then, ignoring the perplexed responses to that maneuver, she got to work.
She retrieved the gym shirt from under her bed. Most days this particular item of attire would have remained a crumpled ball in her P.E. locker after school, but she’d had to wear it all day, and so it had come home with her.
“Turn your head, Alex,” she said, as if he were really there.
And as if he were really there, he answered. Not looking, not looking.
Once she had the shirt on and smoothed it out, she sat back at her desk, got out her cell phone, tied her hair in a tail, and took a picture of herself.

****

When the first picture appeared on Cody’s page, the observer knew exactly what was coming. He’d seen it before. The details differed each time, but the common threads were easily picked out: theatrics, spite, spectacle—and from the other end, disbelief. Then there would be panic, frantic attempts to undo the damage, and afterward, there would be remorse.
From most of them.
The picture was off-center. The girl was smiling, posing. The mascara tracks on her face looked like war paint.
Val: OMG, she’s postin selfies!
Cody: Give us a twerk, emo.
How they didn’t see what was coming, the observer could not fathom. But that was part of the pattern too. Bullies, as a rule, didn’t get it until it was too late—for the victim, or less frequently, for themselves.
The observer was truly torn. On the one hand, if she went through with it, she’d set him free. He had made contact with her, though she didn’t know it, and he was the oldest within the host. After many, many years, it was his turn, and he would finally learn what lay beyond this purgatory. But on the other hand, he felt bad for her. He really did.
“Let’s go,” he said to the screen. The suspense was killing him. “What’s next, Audrey?”
A second picture came up even as the first was being liked and shared by nearly everyone on the page. This one silenced most of them.
Audrey was holding an unfolded pocket knife against her cheek with one hand while the other took the picture, still smiling, tilting her head.
At first, the only comment came from Maggie: Drama. Whatever.
Audrey responded: Stick around. This is for your benefit.
Everything slowed down, then. Time rolled out like an empty rug, the Facebook page inert and dead. Minutes passed with nothing.
Then, Val: Audrey?
Still, nothing.
Val again: Audrey, don’t be dumb. Come on.
Five minutes became ten.
Maggie: She went to bed. She wants us to worry all night. As if we would.
After fifteen minutes of relative inactivity, the final picture appeared.

*****

Author Bio:
Marcus Damanda lives in Woodbridge, Virginia with his cat, Shazam. At various times throughout his life, he played bass guitar for the garage heavy metal band


Mother’s Day, wrote for The Dale City Messenger, and published editorials in The Potomac News and The Freelance Star. Currently, while not plotting his next foray into fictitious suburban mayhem, he spoils his nieces and nephews and teaches middle school English.


Find Marcus Damanda here:



***Giveaway:  1 ecopy of Devils in the Dark to a lucky commenter on any of the participating blogs. 

https://ssl.gstatic.com/ui/v1/icons/mail/images/cleardot.gif