Friday, October 31, 2014
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Jake and Ivy Perform Their Own Style Of Dance In This Hot Historical Cowboy Erotic Romance; Jake and Ivy by Jane Leopold Quinn
Ivy Westlake, thought to be a demure young lady, comes alive at her friend’s hacienda in Mexico when she discovers the Flamenco. Her wild side is unleashed in the sensuality of music and dancing. She will not allow her father to force her into a marriage of convenience back East, so she runs away with the dance troupe.
Jake Agee, cowboy, horse trader, loner, has carefully built a life with no commitments. That life explodes in his face when Ivy dances. He doesn’t know she’s run away until he spots her performing in a small California town. He battles his desire to have this woman against his well-honed sense of independence.
Jake and Ivy perform their own style of pas de deux throughout southern California until their passions ignite in a desert cave in the middle of a thunder storm. Jake fights his growing love as Ivy fights her craving for their erotic pursuits. Jake’s long lost brother suddenly and mysteriously surfaces.
Will this appearance tear Jake and Ivy apart? Will it destroy their love?
The drawers dropped.
He groaned. Her dancer's body, one long graceful line from head to toe, reminded him of a painting he'd seen in San Francisco. He'd been wandering along Market Street near the Palace Hotel and caught a glimpse of a beautiful naked woman through a window. When he went to investigate, to his embarrassment he discovered he'd entered an art gallery. A painting—a woman rising from a pond surrounded by thick woods. Now he stared stupidly at the very image of the woman in the painting, at the real life woman's pale translucent flawless skin. He had the living breathing Ivy here before him, not unobtainably flat on a canvas.
His palms itched to cover her full white breasts. His body flamed hot wanting the feel of her dark rosy nipples rubbing against his bare chest. And in his mouth. His clenched jaw ached. He growled deeply in his throat at the insistent throbbing of his cock, at the thickening inside his pants. Ravenous to touch her, her breasts, her belly, the dark triangle below it, he swallowed, suddenly nervous.
He lifted a hand to her hair, slipping his fingers through it, fluffing the damp strands out to spill down her back and over her shoulders to teasingly cover her breasts. The woman in the painting, her hair was like this. He'd stood so long in front of the painting that the gallery proprietor had to cough to get his attention.
At the time he believed he'd never see a woman's hair like that in the painting. But he was wrong. It was here, within his reach, rich and thick and wildly curling around her breasts, her nipples peeping through. Fingering the length of the waves drifting over her neck and shoulders, his hands shaking slightly, he reached the round cushions of her breasts. His breath caught in his throat as he brushed the backs of his knuckles down the center of her body.
His eyes widened to take it all in, his mouth watering to taste her. His lips softened, his breath rasped. He heard her sharp indrawn gasp and a moan echoed so deeply inside her he could feel its vibration on his fingers. Glancing up, he saw she was watching with fascination as his fingers skimmed around her breasts finally reaching their tips.
She looked up at him then, her lips parted in anticipation, her eyes swimming with desire. "Mm," she sighed shakily, pursing her lips, her body quivering, her eyes glazed and dreamy as he drew the backs of his fingers over her.
His only reality was his hands on her body, on her hot skin. Curving his palms around her, he caressed her breasts, her neck and shoulders. He'd never made love like this, had no plan of seduction. Yes, he'd had sex before but never with the feeling that this time would be momentous. He wanted it to be good for her. If he was going to take her innocence, he didn't want her to regret it.
He leaned in, their lips meeting, soft at first, just a gentle brush.
"God, Jake." She groaned into his mouth.
Their lips parted momentarily, then his kiss turned savage, his tongue plunging into her slippery mouth and intertwining with hers, filling her until he felt breathless and weak. Her fingers clutched the back of his shirt, nails digging into the skin beneath. The sharp sting kindled a spark in him. His hands raked through her damp hair, cupping her head in his palms, holding her as he moved over her lips, taking control of her mouth.
He caressed her shoulders and neck with his thumbs, nibbling at her brow and eyelids, nuzzling her ear and, with repressed ferocity, he bit her earlobe.
"Jake," she murmured repeatedly. She pulled frantically at the front of his shirt, clumsily unbuttoning it. "I want to feel your bare skin," she demanded, her voice lying low and husky. As the shirt fell open, her hands grazed across his chest followed by the hot softness of her breasts. Crying out at the contact, she kissed his shoulder. Her lips moved down, following her fingers as they skimmed over the light hair covering his chest, following the trail directly to his belly button.
He stopped her hand from going lower. Stupid son of a bitch.
Jake and Ivy available at Amazon - http://amzn.com/B00OEFC9LK
Stay tuned for Wooing the Librarian, Pres MacKay's story out on October 20, 2014
and The Long Road to You, Nick's story — Coming Soon
Sensual fantasies were locked in my mind for years until a friend said, "Why don't you write them down?" Why not, indeed? One spiral notebook, a pen and the unleashing of my imagination later, and here I am with more than a dozen books published.
The craft of writing erotic romance has become my passion and my niche in life. I love every part of the creative process — developing characters, designing the plot, even drawing the layout of physical spaces from my stories. My careers have been varied — third grade school teacher, bookkeeper, secretary — none of which gave me a bit of inspiration.
But now I'm lucky enough to write romance full time — the best job in the universe!
Lost and Found
His Hers & His
Soldier, Come Home
A Promise at Dawn
Jake and Ivy
Wooing the Librarian
Home to Stay (coming soon)
The Long Road to You (coming soon)
I'll Be Your Last
Jane Leopold Quinn
My Romance: Love With a Scorching Sensuality
http://janeleopoldquinn.BlogSpot.com + https://twitter.com/jelquinnauthor
Amazon Author Page
Monday, October 27, 2014
Can Dom Logan Hawk Help Melodie Heal The Emotional Wounds From Her Attack? Melodie's Song, A Brand New Erotic, M/F, Contemporary, BDSM Romance from Skye Michaels. Plus Author Spotlight.
Can Logan overcome Melodie’s need to hide her scar as well as the malevolent intentions of the stalker and compose a happy ever after?
Two years ago gallery owner, Melodie Buxton, was attacked and stabbed outside her art gallery in the Tribeca section of lower Manhattan. When she awoke in the hospital with a knife wound on her face, she vaguely remembered the dark presence that held her barely conscious body and attempted to stop the bleeding. After she left the hospital she was unable to find out his name.
Dom Logan Hawk, lead singer and guitar in Dark Place, a rock band popular with the alternative lifestyle communities, had seen the attack. He had stopped to help the beautiful young woman he’d noticed in the neighborhood but had not yet gotten up the nerve to approach. As he put pressure on her wound and felt her pulse under his hands and her blood flow through his fingers, he knew that their souls had bonded.
Two years after the attack, the angry red swirls running through the beautiful, tranquil pastel abstract painting in the window of Melodie’s gallery drew Logan. The small signature at the bottom of the painting told him Melodie was the artist. He wanted to walk into the gallery and talk to her but he hesitated. He’d had glimpses of her through the gallery window since the attack and knew that she covered the side of her face where the scar would be. One day on the urging of his band members he walked into the gallery to talk to her. When she learned that he was her guardian angel she agreed to have lunch with him, and a relationship developed.
The cloud on the horizon came in the form of Logan’s dangerous female fan and stalker, Karin Sanders. Karin realized that Logan and Melodie’s romance endangered her delusions of a relationship with Logan, and she is determined to get rid of her rival in any way she can. When Karin attacked Melodie on the street outside Rockefeller Plaza at the Christmas tree lighting ceremony, Logan and Melodie retreat to the new BDSM hotel in Florida owned by his friend, Jack Dalton Brown.
The Paint Splatters Gallery,
Tribeca Section of New York, New York,
Wednesday morning, July 1, 2015
Melodie watched from behind the display panel near the front door. That guy was standing in front of the gallery window again. He stopped at the same time every morning to just look in the window and stare at the large abstract painting she had displayed there. It was her own work, and not for sale. The painting had helped her work through some of the anger she still felt every time she glanced in a mirror. She never really looked. The rest of her pain she kept as private as possible. The guy she had been seeing at the time of the knife attack had bailed when he saw the angry red scar on her face. He wasn’t up to the challenge, it seemed.
By putting the painting in the window of the gallery, she was displaying the only face she was willing to show the public. Someday it would end up on the wall over her mantel, but right now, it was where in needed to be.
The puckered scar that ran from her right temple down to her jawline was better than it had been when she first came out of the hospital. Then, it had been horrible. Consequently, she looked in mirrors only when absolutely necessary. Two subsequent surgeries and time had made it smaller and lighter in color, and makeup helped as well. But she was still self-conscious and wore her hair longer on the right side in an asymmetrical cut that screened the scar from most eyes. Dr. Goldman said he wasn’t done with her yet, and was far from ready to give up.
The man standing on the sidewalk was tall and well-built. She hadn’t ever really seen what he looked like, because he usually had a hoodie pulled up like he didn’t want to be recognized. She had just gotten a suggestion of long, dark hair and high cheekbones. He usually dressed in black jeans with a lot of leather, but the clothes looked like they might be designer and expensive. Today he was wearing a black T-shirt and black jeans, but he somehow looked prosperous and well tended to her.
What did he find so compelling about the painting? She felt it was her best work, but that might be because it had been so therapeutic for her. The pastel colors blended with the eddies of blood-red pigment depicting the anger that still swirled through her mind.
The police had never gotten the man who had cut her. Her handbag and wallet had been found in a garbage can in an alley several blocks away, minus her cash and credit cards. Even though he was still out there, she refused to live her life in fear. He had probably left the area months or years ago. The city’s homeless were migratory and moved from place to place, shelter to shelter. She forced herself to walk to work every day, although she tried to be home before dark. If she had to stay late to meet a client, she called a cab to take her the few blocks to her brownstone. She had made Jasper Winter the manager of the gallery after the attack, and he had done a great job—even implementing some of his own merchandising ideas while she had been in the hospital or laid up at home. She had another remediation surgery to look forward to this winter.
Ah, he was moving on. She wished she had the nerve to just walk outside and ask him what he thought of the painting. Before the incident, she probably would have done just that, but now she was hesitant when meeting new people. She hated the shocked look when they first saw the scar.
* * * *
Logan Hawk stood outside the gallery, staring at the astounding painting that was bathed in a cone of light. The small signature on the bottom right hand corner of the canvas read “M. Buxton.” He knew that was the name of the woman who had been stabbed on the sidewalk just up the street almost two years ago. He could hardly forget that name. It was etched in his mind. He had been walking toward her when he had seen the stabbing and called 9-1-1. Then he had stayed with her until the ambulance had taken her away.
Melodie Buxton was beautiful. She was tall, but not too slender, with glossy, dark hair and haunting deep blue eyes. The way she moved gave the impression that she might have been a dancer at one time. He had noticed her over two years ago on his morning walk for coffee and the newspaper. The gallery was on his daily route from the loft that contained his apartment and the rehearsal space where the band practiced, and where he did his composing.
That day, her blood had been all over his hands and clothes. It had oozed between his fingers. He would never forget the feeling of desperation he’d felt as he knelt beside her on the pavement. He had tried to stop the bleeding by putting pressure on the wound he’d covered with some napkins from the coffee he had been carrying. They were all he’d had to use. He had never felt the same about Starbucks again.
Blood and cappuccino—not a good combination. Now once in a while, he caught a glimpse of her in the gallery. She never came near the window when he was standing there. One of these days, he was just going to open the door, walk in and ask her how she was doing.
After the incident, he’d called the hospital for her condition. He had not been able to get much information, so he’d just gone in and made his way to the intensive care unit. He’d bribed an orderly and had found out that she was in a medically induced coma. After that, he had not wanted to intrude on her family. Months later, when he began seeing her at the gallery occasionally, he noticed that she stayed away from the windows.
He had seen her on the street a couple of times, but she kept her head down and turned away from passersby as much as she could. It was clear she was not ready to interact with people—particularly strangers. He figured she had to be scarred. The knife wound had been horrific.
He took her hand and led her to the steps going up to the raised sleeping area. When they had ascended to the platform he finished unbuttoning her shirt. She reached out and undid the buttons of his black denim shirt. And then they were all rushing fingers and panting breath.
“I can’t wait to feel you inside me, Logan. Hurry.”
He made quick work of the rest of her clothes and then his. Finally, they were naked. They just looked at each other. When he continued to stare and said nothing, she said hesitantly, “Are you disappointed?”
“Are you crazy? There is nothing to be disappointed about. If you keep that up, you might be getting a taste of that spanking you’ve been worrying about.” He grinned and shook his head.
“You think I didn’t know that you were worrying? Your future Dom knows all.” He backed up to the edge of the bed and fell back, taking her with him. She landed solidly on his chest, and he put his arms around her.
He moved fast. Before she could protest, Logan had rolled her under him and had his muscled thigh firmly planted between her now-open ones. She looked up at him in surprise.
“Relax, baby. We have all night. I’m going to play with you for hours. By the time I let you come, you’ll be begging.” He proceeded to explore every inch of her sensitized skin with his lips. He was going to try to take his time. He flicked his tongue over her raspberry nipples. He knew it was his imagination, but he could swear they tasted sweet. And then he got serious.
He felt the wetness of her pussy and slid his body down until he was between her soft, spread thighs. He had dreamt of this many times. Over the last two years, she had never been far from his thoughts. He took her little pleasure button between his lips and started to suck and nip.
Melodie began to toss and turn, but his shoulders kept her spread wide for him, and his arms controlled her thrashing legs. “Easy, honey. Just lay back and enjoy. You can’t come until I give you permission.”
She raised her head and looked down her body into his eyes. He could see the surprise in hers. “Really? How can I control that?”
“Try. I’m just giving you a little preview of the D/s dynamic. Don’t worry about it. We’re just playing.” He went back to work between her legs. He felt the quickening of her pulse as he continued to circle her clit with his tongue. He ran his tongue through the ruffled pussy lips that were slick with her juices. They tasted sweet to him as well. She tasted like heaven. He knew she would be begging soon. Now that would be music to his ears. She continued to thrash as she tried to gain closer contact with his mouth. “When I take you under sub training, you’ll learn that that is topping from the bottom and is not allowed.”
“Please, Logan. I need you inside me. I’m burning up.”
“Soon, baby. Soon. You are going to have to learn patience. You have to wait until I decide the time is right. I’m the one in control here.”
“I don’t know if I can do that, Logan. Please fuck me.”
That was it. He couldn’t hold back any longer himself. He was dying to sink into her sweet, wet heat. He moved back up her body, took her wrists in one hand, and held them over her head while he braced on his forearm. His rampant cock was primed and ready and homed in on the destination. He nudged her slick opening. He took his shaft in his hand and guided it home. Soon he was seated up to his balls. Her hot, wet pussy grasped his hard cock, and he could feel her interior muscles gripping him.
Oh, God. It was amazing. He knew he would never have enough. He had fantasized about taking her hard and fast many times, but now he found he wanted to make this last to the absolute last possible second. He felt his balls tighten as he began to stroke long and slow. He had to concentrate. Melodie met every stroke. Their bodies instinctively knew each other’s rhythms, and they were in perfect sync.
“Harder, Logan. Faster.”
He knew he should keep her wanting just on general principles, but she wasn’t a trained sub and couldn’t know she was breaking the rules. He began to speed up his strokes. Her legs were wrapped around his back, and she struggled to take him even deeper, if that was possible.
* * * *
Melodie was coming apart. She had never experienced anything like this before. She was desperate to run her hands down his back and grab his ass, but he still had them clasped above her head. For some reason, she found that incredibly erotic and exciting. She wanted to take him as deep and hard as possible. He was big and her pussy was stretched to the maximum, but she loved the fullness, the friction. She just wanted more. She wanted it all.
Logan was all hard, demanding man, and he played her body like one of his instruments. Even as a girl, she had never been one to have crushes on musicians. She had enjoyed the music, but that was all. She could see that was about to change. Was she going to be a thirty-five year old groupie? She started to giggle. When that got a lowered-brow look from Logan, she burst out in a delighted laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he gasped as he intensified his strokes.
“Nothing is funny. I’m just so happy. I think I’m going to be a groupie.”
“God forbid.” She felt her pulse quicken and the ripple of her inner walls around his cock. And then he started to laugh as well.
They both blasted over the edge into spine-tingling orgasms that left them breathless to the lingering sound of their laughter.
SKYE MICHAELS AUTHOR’S BIO:
After losing my job as a commercial real estate paralegal during the financial downturn in the real estate market in 2010, I was working some temp jobs in Miami which is a long commute. My daughter bought me a Kindle for my birthday to ease the long commute from Fort Lauderdale to downtown Miami.
Yikes! I had no idea what was out there not being a techie by nature. I read a ton of the erotic books and loved them. After writing legal documents for years I knew I could write an erotic romance. I read some more of them to find out what they said, what words were used, and how far they went. Pretty darn far! These books weren’t your mama’s romance novels!
Since there are no classes in how to write erotic romance, it was a learn-as-you-go adventure. I have now written twenty-two books. I can’t believe it myself. When I look at them, I wonder where all the words came from and I am amazed. I have now surpassed ONE MILLION WORDS. Yes – I’m a little weird and I keep track of that!
I started my first series, The LeClub series, with Calleigh’s Collar set in the glamorous horse world of Ocala, Florida. I finished the first draft in 17 days. Granted it was only 22,000 words. It and a second manuscript, Kelly’s Challenge, were accepted by Siren Publishing within three weeks. I was astounded, excited, terrified. Since then I have learned a lot from the editors at Siren Publishing. When I started, I had no idea what Point of View and Head Hopping were. That first edited manuscript was a shock.
I have since started other series: The Golden Dolphin set aboard a 300 foot mega yacht (currently 6 books with at least one more to come); The Black Iris Club set in my hometown of Fort Lauderdale that tells the stories of four girlfriends who are either cops or attorneys; The Black Dahlia Hotel set in a secret BDSM hotel on Fort Lauderdale Beach; and the new M/M series, The Wilton Park Grand Hotel with a background of a gay hotel located in Wilton Park, a predominantly gay town in Florida. I enjoy writing (and reading) book series because you get to revisit some of your favorite characters and see how they are doing.
I love the BDSM genre, and have had some interesting conversations with people about it. I recently attended a writer’s conference given to educate writers about the lifestyle. I met some really terrific people there who live the lifestyle and learned a lot.
My heroines are all hard working professional women (and now two gay men) with lives of their own. Although I am writing about Dominant/submissive situations, none of my girls or guys are downtrodden or lack spunk. My heroes are all rich and handsome since this is Romance with a capital “R”.
If we all wanted real life, we only have to look around us not to romance books. My Black Dahlia Hotel Series, is a spinoff of The Black Iris Club, which will continue the Fort Lauderdale story with new and interesting couples. Book 1, Mikaela’s Debut , and Book 2, Vaughn’s Awakening have been released. Book 3, Melodie’s Song, is coming out on October 27, and Penelope’s Gift is coming out on November 14.
My latest series, The Wilton Park Grand Hotel, is a new direction for me and will be a Male/Male series. The first Book, Alex’s Sacrifice, will be released in December. I am currently working on Book 2, Rickie’s Dilemma.
It’s an adventure, that’s for sure. Whenever I finish a book, I scramble for the next one. Once an idea is firmly in my head, I can relax again and just let it happen. I want my readers to feel like they have been to fabulous places and enjoyed a hot love affair with a fabulous hero, and always a Happy Ever After. I hope I can provide my readers with a little respite from everyday life as well as some fun and hot romance.
Please visit my fan page on Facebook, Skye Michaels Books. All of my covers, first chapters and buy links are there. You can just search Skye Michaels on Bookstrand.com, Amazon.com, or Barnes and Noble.com and my books will pop up.
The following are my Bookstrand.com and Amazon.com links for the first books of each of my series:
THE LE CLUB SERIES: (M/F BDSM Contemporary Erotic Romance)
THE GOLDEN DOLPHIN SERIES: (M/F BDSM Contemporary Erotic Romance)
THE BLACK IRIS CLUB: (M/F BDSM Contemporary Erotic Suspense)
THE BLACK DAHLIA HOTEL: (M/F BDSM Contemporary Erotic Suspense)
THE WILTON PARK GRAND HOTEL: (M/M Contemporary Erotic Suspense)