Houston Havens


Featuring: Illumination by M.V. Freeman {@MVFree} #ASMSG

Illumination_FINAL FRONTblurbCapricious and free-spirited, Mina Tepes is forever trying to intervene. Some would say she interferes. Her attempt to save a friend worsens a war already waging between her people, the Darks, and their reviled overlords, the Mages. Desperate, she turns to the man who saved her life as child–an enemy Mage named Xander.

As part of the ruling class, Xander Fjordson should never have taken notice of Mina, but even as boy, one look into her large dark eyes and he was lost. As an adult, involvement with her has ripped his world to shreds. Though the war she unintentionally instigated has made them enemies, when she comes to him bleeding and injured, he is unable to say no. He puts at risk what is left of his status and his family as he follows her, knowing in the end he’d have to betray her.

Together Xander and Mina begin to unravel terrible secrets as the war escalates. Soon Xander must choose: save his family or the woman who’s come to mean more to him than his own life.


Website: http://www.mvfreeman.com/

Simon & Schuster (pre-order links) http://bit.ly/1OscWoP

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMVFreeman?ref=hl

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Google +: https://plus.google.com/100536411253117557991/posts

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6431724.M_V_Freeman

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/M.V.-Freeman/e/B008QYIYMS/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1

About.me: https://about.me/mvfreeman

Tsu: http://www.tsu.co/MVFreeman


“Tell me, Mina…” Xander leaned down to open the bottom drawer of his desk with a spell and batted an annoying flying paper crane out of his face. The unlocking incantation was simple enough; he didn’t even need to speak the few words necessary, the spell responding

instead to his focused thought. “How did you get through the wards I placed?”

Now that he’d healed her, Xander’s initial concern bled into something more immediate. Security. His. How did she get through?

He’d made certain no one could walk through the shadows, or all of the Mages would be dead by now. Slaughtered by vengeful Darks, especially after the spectacular show by his people today.

“I used a spell.” She said it in a low voice as if hoping he wouldn’t hear.

Shit. She used Mage magic again.

He straightened with the half-full bottle of the golden liquid,a thirty-year-old bottle of Macallan, his personal stash. He wasn’t under any illusion after helping Mina he’d get out of this intact. To

hell with wasting a good scotch. He twisted and pulled off the cap and, tilting the bottle to his mouth, took a long pull.

A glass would take too damn long.


M.V. Freeman lives in North Alabama. A nurse by day, at night she enjoys creating and exploring alternate worlds within our own. She gravitates toward stories of determined heroines and anti-heroes who push the boundaries as they both fight to find their light in the dark.

M.V. is represented by Victoria Lea from The Aponte Literary Agency. Her award-winning and best-selling debut novel INCANDESCENT is the first in the Hidden Races Series. Currently she is working on the third book in the series, while plotting others. When not writing, she can be found reading, cooking, throwing around kettle bells, or making coffee.


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Spotlight on Forbidden Gems I and II by Damian Jericho {#Giveaway}

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Forbidden Gems IImage1

Hasty Introductions

Damian Jericho

Genre: Erotica/Supernatural Erotica/

Dark Erotica

Date of Publication: February 17, 2015


Number of pages: 46

Word Count: 12,148

Cover Artist: Xio Axelrod

blurbIt’s an unusual night at the museum. The legendary Pazuzu gemstones are making an appearance, in the company of the man who discovered them: the almost equally legendary Argent Leeds.

Mara, a young intern, expects nothing more from the evening than a chance to get a glimpse at the almost mythical stones. What she gets is a private showing, and a great deal more: the beginning of an erotic journey unlike anything she could have ever imagined.

Forbidden Gems is a six part serial. It begins here.

Available at Amazon   ARe

excerptHe said, “I wonder, before we allow Mrs. Toomes the use of her office again, if you could do me one favor. I’d like for you to think about the gemstone you touched.”

“The blue sapphire?”

“The sapphire, yes.”

“You want me to think about it? That’s a strange request.”

“I know. Just picture it in your head. Close your eyes if you want.”

This is weird, she thought. But she did as he asked, shut her eyes and thought back to Saturday night. Not the part where Argent had her pressed up against a glass display cabinet—that was something she almost couldn’t stop thinking about—but the part before, when he had taken the sapphire from the cabinet and slipped it into her hand. The memory came easily enough, as if this was something that was always buried at the edge of her memory just hidden behind thoughts of Argent and everything that happened later. But she could recall exactly how warm the sapphire had felt, and how smooth it was in her palm.

Did it glow? Or had that been a trick of the light?

She could feel it in her hand again, the sense memory was so strong. And just as soon as she imagined she was holding it, she felt something else. Something sudden and urgent was uncoiling itself inside her, beginning with a shiver that traveled up her back to her scalp and down to her fingertips, echoing through her and turning into a dull throb in her groin.

She opened her eyes and looked at Argent, who seemed to be aware of exactly what she was feeling, even though she’d barely moved.

“Argent, what is this?”

“No, don’t stop. Keep thinking of it,” he said.

It was as if she had no choice but to obey his request, and as she closed her eyes again, the memory of the sapphire filled up her thoughts completely.

Blue, so blue.

The gemstone was in her hands again, but now she was caressing it and sliding it across her skin, over her chest and down her naked stomach. It was a memory of a thing that had never happened, yet it felt as real as anything that had happened, and she didn’t know anymore how to tell the difference. And as she slid the sapphire down her stomach and past her wet lips and into her, she didn’t care because it felt real.

Also real was the rush of wet heat in her crotch that turned into a pounding need, as if the gemstone was still inside her and vibrating in time with her body. As if they were becoming a part of each other.

And she was about to burst. Her nipples, which had become exposed nerves, rubbed against the inside of her bra and ached to be bitten and pulled, and she yearned to reach out and grab Argent and pull him onto her. Instead she dug her hands into the soft leather of the chair and let out a little moan.

Think of the stone, she reminded herself, and there she was again in her falsified memory, naked and leaning up against the wall pushing the blue sapphire in and out of herself and then running the slick stone back up her chest.

Her legs were opening. She couldn’t stop them. Sapphire blue was everywhere and everything, and her hands wanted to let go of the chair, and she couldn’t let that happen, but she couldn’t stop them either somehow. She was so close.

“I can’t . . .” she whispered, even as she trembled from another shiver and fought just to stay upright and keep her hands where they were. It was a losing battle, because in her memory was the notion that the stone belonged back inside her, and so she spread her legs and thrust it as deeply as it could go. And then her hand—the real one, that was holding on to the chair desperately—let go and she was shoving it between her open legs and pushing her fingers in as far and as hard as she could through her jeans.

She came violently and suddenly, like something physically snapped inside her vagina and spilled out hot oil that ran all the way up to her face. Her head tilted and her back arched, and a scream began to slide out of her throat when Argent clapped his hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “Settle down now. Settle down.”

The orgasm dug in and held her body rigid for what seemed like minutes before subsiding. She sagged into the chair, pulled her hand out from between her legs, and leaned against Argent, who was kneeling next to her.

“I’m all sweaty,” she complained quietly. “What the hell just happened to me?”

“Research,” he said.

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” he said. “But I want to. Do you?”


Image2Forbidden Gems II


Damian Jericho

Genre: Erotica/Supernatural Erotica/

Dark Erotica

Date of Publication: March 3, 2015


Number of pages: 47

Word Count: 13,101

Cover Artist: Xio Axelrod

blurbWhile sorting through the archeological findings from one of Argent’s digs, Mara makes a surprising discovery, one that might connect back to the gemstones. Eager to share what she’s found, she meets Argent for a private dinner in an exclusive club, and ends up sharing a great deal more when clothing becomes entirely optional.

Forbidden Gems is a six part serial. The journey continues here.

excerptMademoiselle Alleman was an alarmingly thin older woman who resembled an unusually fleshy species of bird but who had at her disposal a dazzling array of high-end designer products that were so high-end Mara had never heard of any of them before. This was not, she granted, an ideal litmus test given her historical lack of funds and parallel lack of fashion knowledge. She knew what she looked good in, and she knew what fit, and for any additional details, she usually leaned on her friends.

The mademoiselle—she did not appear to have a first name—was seemingly happier to meet Mara than anybody had ever been to meet her ever, and while Mara was pretty sure Alleman greeted everyone with the same extraordinary level of enthusiasm, it rang so true she was happy to imagine this woman had been waiting for Mara all her life—or if not her, then someone just like Mara—to come along and try on some of the clothing she had lying around that was all about exactly the right size.

They began simply enough, by making sure the criminally short black dress Argent had picked out for her was properly sized. Mara thought it was a perfect fit—better than any other outfit in her wardrobe already—but the mademoiselle disagreed and ended up taking in an eighth of an inch at the waist and lowering the hemline by a quarter of an inch.

“You will see, chéri,” she said. “It will look perfect.”

It looked pretty perfect already, Mara thought. But she wasn’t the expert in the room.

Underwear came next, and that was just sort of strange. Mara had never had a personal shopper for outerwear before, but she liked the idea of it immediately. But Mademoiselle Alleman, a woman old enough to be her grandmother, had opinions on what underwear Mara should be wearing with the dress, and nobody was pretending this was going to be anything other than fuck-me underwear.

“I think Monsieur Leeds, he will like these very much,” she said, holding up a thong that was essentially three strings and an eye-patch. In the mademoiselle’s French accent, the suggestion sound perfectly normal, which made Mara wonder if her accent was even real or if she just used it to make these moments slightly less weird.

“It’s not very much of anything,” Mara said, “so yes, you’re probably right.”

“It is more than nothing, and that is the point, dear. Nothing is only nothing. Nothing is not mystery. This is mystery. Small mystery, but still mystery, and not nothing. It’s what you choose not to show that makes them want you. So you try these. And . . .” She grabbed a lacy push-up bra that appeared to be a solid match. “And this.”

Mara stepped behind the privacy screen—they were alone in a shuttered, private shop so there was no particular need for a full dressing room until such a time as Chalmers decided to check in from the car or something—to change into the lingerie.

“Have you known Mr. Leeds for long?” Mara asked.

“You suppose I know him?” the mademoiselle countered. “Perhaps I do not. He is a man who wishes to pay for your wonderful new clothing, is that not enough?”

“But you do know him.”

“Yes, chéri, Monsieur Leeds and myself are familiar with one another. It has been five years, I suppose.”

“Does he send all of his women here?” Mara asked, realizing after it had already been said that it came off as a little bitchy.

“Oh, haha. No, you misunderstand, chéri. You are only the second of his, his women as you say, to come here. The first was from five years ago, and Monsieur Leeds and I have remained acquainted through social circles.”

“So there was another woman, but five years ago?” Mara asked. She was now blatantly digging for information but didn’t seem to have any patience for a more nuanced approach.

“It has been since three years,” Alleman answered. “But Monsieur Leeds has, I’m sure, told you of her by now.”

“He has not,” Mara admitted. “But I haven’t asked. I’m not even sure if we’re dating, Mademoiselle Alleman, or if that’s what people still do. We’ve never really talked about that either.”

“It is just the sex, then.”


“It’s better if it’s the sex first, chéri. Love, romance, relationships—these are confusing. Sex is simple. Now you must be changed. Please. Show me how they fit.”

Available at Amazon


authorbioDamian Jericho is the pen name of a best-selling sci-fi/fantasy novelist who tragically does not have a name that is half as interesting as ‘Damian Jericho’.  Both of them reside in the Boston area and one of them is real.




Tour giveaway

2 ebook copies of Hasty Introductions
2 ebook copies of Carnivores

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Guest Post: A Perfect Match by Daisy Banks (@DaisyBanks12)

A Thing of Beauty.


When I am creating a new story, I love working on the description of characters. I sometimes struggle to get things right but I enjoy the process a great deal. One thing in romance is no matter the actuality of physical appearance the lead characters will find each other beautiful, physically, emotionally, mentally. They have to, because the reality of love means your chosen mate is the perfection you seek and distractions or blemishes count for nothing. Either you don’t see them or if you do, they are cute, idiosyncratic and an accepted part of the allure your loved one has to charm you.

A bit scary all that if you analyze it logically, but love isn’t about logic, passions rule the mind, hormones rule the body and your heart is snared.

How all that can happen, often in a very short space of time, astonishes me. Here is a little snippet from my new story with Taliesin Publishing, A Perfect Match, I hope you think I got the description of this character right. Varon and Anwell have married at the instruction of the leader of the Astan folk, they have not met before this morning.


excerptVaron studied his bride and admired her smooth clear skin. He rather liked the tiny dark mole at the corner of one eye highlighting her cheekbone. He also enjoyed the way she blushed so rosy. She kept her gaze lowered, so her thick lashes hid the brilliance of her intriguing hazel eyes. Her earlier inquisitive glances along with the frank way she met his gaze once or twice gave him hopes. Beautiful eyes. A myriad of different shades surrounded her widened, dark pupils. Her shimmering, glossed lips appealed, too. The deep chestnut waves of her hair, much of it tucked beneath the veil, would be silken soft. Any further examination of her charms proved impossible with her wrapped by the heavy bridal robes. Besides the beauty of her face, he knew two things—she had cool, long-fingered hands, one he still held, and slender feet. His study of her embroidered green slippers through much of the marriage ceremony would remain with him.

Should I believe her? Could Chardel have coerced such an innocent to work against me? Guilt rose. Despite his best intentions for the journey, his mouth had run away with him. The effect cruel, even if unintentional. He’d have to work to put it right.

Gods. This is like walking on eggshells.

His gaze settled on her slim fingers plaiting folds in the embroidered robe. Somehow, he must show her she shouldn’t fear him.What have they told her? What does she expect?

Blame for their predicament didn’t lie with him, or with Anwell, who seemed unaware or the political situation, as well as much else.

Her earlier flash of humor spoke well for her courage, a quality he’d always admired, and pleased him. Yet she retreated fast when he spoke of children, and further at the mention he’d enjoy seeing all her nightgown might reveal.

Has the Temple prepared her at all for marriage? He doubted it. So young, her days were spent chanting, making the regular offerings to the gods, or so he believed. Poor girl. He couldn’t blame her if she thought him as vicious as Chardel.


Daisy Banks whisks you into a futuristic world,where you might fight for water, or offer up your freedom and become a slave for the promise of enough to drink.

Passion and politics ripple throughA Perfect Matchwherethe enmity between the government leader, Lord Chardel and Commander Varon, head of the Astan water acquirement fleet, is at flashpoint. The enforced marriage of Anwell Nastor, a young Temple adept, to Commander Varon, not only breaks Astan religious rules, but could break untried hearts. This cruel ploy meant to silence Varon’s opposition to current circumstances in the city-state brings unexpected results. Through careful manipulation of the news links, Varon and his bride become the city’s most adored couple, but danger shadows their steps.


Join Anwell and Varon as they discover the power of A Perfect Match on their perilous journey in a world full of dangers and political intrigue.


A Perfect Match is available from Taliesin Publishing as of 3rd of July 14.


Find Daisy Banks here:

Blog    http://daisybanks.wordpress.com/

Website http://daisybanksnovels.yolasite.com/

Twitter @DaisyBanks12

Facebook http://on.fb.me/18iRC35

Pinterest http://bit.ly/16sF1XG


Spotlight and #Giveaway- Confessions of a Sex Fiend Series Boxed Set by @RayvenGodchild ~ #bewitchingbooktours

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Confessions of a Sex Fiend Series

Boxed Set

Rayven Godchild



On the path to earning his degree in mechanical engineering, Chancellor Baltimore, geek-extraordinaire, experiences a detour of a lifetime. He discovers his inner sex fiend and an incurable yearning to be the fantasy, bring the pain, and ensure unbridled pleasure for his clients. But even he experiences a bump in the road.

In Tasting Cherry, everyone has a first time.

In A View to Ecstasy, it’s so much more fun when there’s more than two in the tango.

In Retreat Bound, there’s pleasure in the pain.

And in Bound to Collide, Chancellor experiences a collision course that is inevitable.

Let’s enjoy these tales of a sex fiend as Chancellor continues to break the rule that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

Shhhhh! Don’t tell anyone. They will be our little secrets…

Book trailer link: http://youtu.be/4IOSgOYpvY8

Music by Kevin MacLeod


excerptTasting Cherry ~

I grabbed Cherry by the arms and pulled her close. I hadn’t suspected those details. Honestly.

I thought back again to my first time with Denise. She spent hours gently nudging me from the awkward, nervous nipple sucker to a skilled clit-manipulator, G-spot hunter, and dick-dunker.

Still wrapped in my arms, I led Cherry to the kitchen table. “You probably feel ashamed, right?”

She nodded.

“Embarrassed, too, huh?”

She nodded and sniffled. “My mom didn’t talk to me for days. I wanted her to understand I was just curious, you know. I’ve been this goody-two-shoes girl all my life. I mean, it was just a cucumber. Then I thought, you know, some guys have their first time with professionals. Why can’t I? I just want to know…to feel…be filled…” Her breath hitched and she shook within my hold.

So close in each other’s space, I breathed in her heady scent of fresh berries. Something else teased my nose; a light sweet vanilla that damn near made my mouth water. I wedged my finger under her chin and tilted her face to mine. I looked into those pools of green innocence as they stared back at me, pleading with me to take the ignorance away, to turn the curiosity into fulfillment.

Refusing wasn’t even an option. Every part of me amped up to… Blow. Her. Fucking. Mind.

Leaning forward, I grazed my lips across hers, whispering, “Don’t ever be ashamed or embarrassed by your sexuality.” I cupped a hand to the back her neck, feeling shivers trail through her as I nibbled her ear and whispered again. “Mr. Baltimore’s going to take it all away, Cherry-baby.”

She sucked a breath through her teeth. “Please…take it…please…”


A View to Ecstasy ~

“Do you need to stop?” I asked.

“Hell no, Baltimore,” Marie answered. Sugary-sweet Snickerdoodle breath filled the space between us. “I can still move. I’m not done until you both break me in two.” A lust-filled grin kissed her lips. She flicked her tongue at me.

I flipped her around so she faced her husband. Her nipples jutted firm, dark and delicious like chocolate chunks, body ready for another rough fuck. I tore the condom wrapping with my teeth, pushing the latex free from the bottom of the package. With one-handed-experience, I rolled my helmet on, gripped Marie by the hips, and held her high above my cock. After one good bounce on the bed, I was thrusting upward into her leaking entrance.

She tossed her head back in ecstasy, pleading for me to fuck her harder.


Retreat Bound ~

“You’re late, Mallory.” His voice, so beautiful to my ears in that just-above-a-baritone kind of vibe, signaled disappointment.

I caught his gaze then cast my look downward. His smoky dark eyes were lust-filled and held a glint of mischief. “I’m sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again.”

I watched his shadow wave in dismissal of my words. “It will. You have certain obligations.” He paused, his voice husky as he spoke again. “But you know what this means.”

My nipples hardened and ached in anticipation. The first few times he’d practiced punishing me at my place, it went so well a couple of the neighbors thought something bad was happening. They had no clue my screams of pain were expressions of blissed out pleasure. Unlike my last Dom, Master Baltimore didn’t like the ball gag. He said it took away the music; that hearing me vocalize the joy and pain he brought me was kin to Mozart hearing his masterpieces conducted and played to perfection. So he turned one of the empty retreat rooms into his very own playground. I’ve been coming and cumming ever since.

“To me,” he commanded.

I glanced back at him, stuck in place by the need seething in his eyes. The hunger…


Bound to Collide ~

Warm fingers splayed upon my back, pressed firm, crushing me to his chest with reckless abandon.  His strong arms held me so close I dared not do more than grasp a hold of him and cling for dear life.

We shuffle-kissed to the bottom of the stairs. We’d barely made it up to the single curve in the stairs, before he broke the kiss, huffing out, “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” My breasts swelled in his presence. My nipples ached for his touch. I needed the full length of him drilling into the depths of my pussy. What was with the ‘can’t’?

A glint shone in his eyes. I should’ve known better than to question him. “I can’t wait,” he growled. He peeled my slacks and panties off in one fell swoop. The clothes pooled in a heap at the foot of the stairs.


authorbioRayven Godchild is an author of erotica/erotic romance short stories, novels and novellas. Her first Angie B7published work appeared in a fit of obscurity during a tumultuous time in life. That story, Secret Lilies, will see the light of day again with a lot less stress and a lot more joy surrounding its republication in the very near future.

Currently, the Confessions of a Sex Fiend short stories are working their way out into the world, with the first one, Tasting Cherry, as Rayven’s re-debut as an author. A View to Ecstasy and Retreat Bound are available. Bound to Collide is the final confession, but certainly not the last the world will hear from Chancellor Baltimore.

Here are some places you can find Rayven:

Twitter | Facebook | Enjoying the Fall Down the Rabbit Hole



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3 ebook copies of the boxed set

2 prize packs- ebook, beaded bookmark, purse charm, a notepad and pen open to US Shipping

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Spotlight and #Giveaway: The Traveller by @melissadelport ~ #bewitchingbooktours

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The Traveller

The Traveller Series

Book 1

Melissa Delport

Genre: Sci-fi romance/action


Number of pages: approx 253

Word Count: 89500

Available on Amazon


Book Description:

Seven years ago, Rachel gave her heart to a dark, intense stranger, who left her broken and alone.

Every day since then Rachel has thought about Dex, her memories refusing to be silenced.

Now, Dex is back, but this time he is not alone. He has brought a formidable army – their sole purpose to conquer. Fate will bring Rachel and Dex back together, but on opposing sides of a war that threatens to obliterate her world.

Pitted against the power of the elements, Rachel and her friends must survive tsunamis, earthquakes, tornadoes and fire, all the while being hunted by a powerful enemy who will stop at nothing to pillage her planet.

Fleeing for her life amidst the chaos of a raging, burning city, Rachel realizes man’s only chance of survival lies in the hands of the very person who betrayed her all those years ago.

Earth is destined to fall, but Rachel is determined to save mankind, no matter the sacrifice.




He was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. Although ‘boy’ was not really the right word – he was slightly too old to be called a boy, but he was still beautiful. I remember that above all else, although what followed should have erased that thought from my consciousness. His hair was black – jet black – and he was tall; well over six feet. I was laughing with Kimberley when I first saw him, lounging against a lamp-post, as though he was waiting for someone. I suppose in hindsight he was. In the instant that our eyes met and that secret smile crossed his face, I could almost imagine that it was me, that I was the one he was waiting for. Of course that was not the case. I know that now. 

I had to cross the street close by where he stood, watching me intently, and as I passed I couldn’t help but glance over at him again. His eyes stopped me, literally, in my tracks. They were green; the most startling green eyes I had ever seen, but there was something different about them. It happened so quickly I thought I was imagining it, but, for just a moment, those eyes seemed to glow, an iridescent, brilliant emerald that left me speechless and standing in the middle of the street staring open-mouthed at a beautiful stranger.

“Can I help you?” The deep, rich baritone of his voice was hypnotic and I couldn’t reply – I simply stood there, unable to tear my gaze away. I would have placed him at around twenty-five years old, far older than any of the boys I usually hung around with; far too old for me. At seventeen, in my senior year at High School, what little I knew about boys I had learned from popular culture not real life. He was dressed in black – all in black – and as I stared a sly grin crossed his face.

“I said; can I help you?” he repeated, sounding somewhere between amused and annoyed and my cheeks flushed with mortification.

“No!” I managed eventually, the word ringing out across the empty street.  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, willing myself not to act like a fool. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

He nodded at me, his eyes thoughtful and I remember wondering why he didn’t look away. My parents always said that it’s impolite to stare but that is exactly what he did. He seemed to look right through me with absolutely no embarrassment, and I fought the urge to look away. 

“What is your name?” he asked, although it didn’t sound like a question. It sounded like an order, like he demanded to know. I had been taught never to give my name out to strangers but I found myself answering anyway, as though I had no control over my own responses.

“Rachel.” It was barely more than a whisper but I knew that he could hear me. Even from there. Even from thirty feet away. I shouldn’t have been talking to him at all, particularly with the feelings I was having; he was far too old for it to be appropriate. Still, I couldn’t seem to tear myself away. 

He was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. How could I have known the monster that lurked beneath?

Chapter 1

“Rhodes!” Bill Parish barks across the expanse of the enormous mahogany desk interrupting my reverie and snapping me back to the present. I shake my head, focusing my attention back on my portly, overbearing boss. It is always like this when the memories flood back, memories that will not be silenced. I get lost in them, swept up in the emotions that I have so long tried to repress. Even after seven years I still think of that summer, of the boy I met and the precious few weeks we shared. I still see his eyes in my dreams, those vivid, mystical green eyes. It makes me angry that he invades my thoughts; he has no right. He left you, I remind myself firmly.

“I hope we’re not boring you?” Bill stares down at me; his glasses perched crookedly on the end of his long nose which has never mended properly after being broken so many times. Bill was a broadcast journalist for almost twenty years before he was offered the role of News Director at the American Broadcasting Company, New York Office. The rumor is that he turned it down at first, preferring the thrill of being out in the field, but when his much younger third wife threatened to leave him for never being at home, he realized the time had come to settle down. Two failed marriages reflected badly enough and, despite the difference in their ages, Bill adores his current significant other. Now, at 56 years old, Bill is in charge of the news department. As far as everyone in this room is concerned, he is the be all and end all of the network; the only people who wield more power than he does are the company’s presidents, none of whom we have ever met personally.

“Not at all, Bill,” I smile sweetly, and he narrows his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I know that Bill, despite his gruff exterior, favors me among the motley crew of newscasters, photographers, editors, reporters and studio crew who make up our team. I produce work of exceptional quality, as a result of my four-year degree in videography and camera operation and the further two years I have spent here at ABC proving my worth. I had managed to secure this job straight out of college thanks to a glowing recommendation from my professor who had worked alongside Bill in his glory days. I love my job. I love the ever-changing work environment and the unpredictability of the diverse subjects I film. In news, you never know what you’re going to get.

“Rachel’s day-dreaming again,” Jason Masters sighs beside me, rolling his eyes. Jason is my newscaster, or ‘anchorman’. Typically, we work on assignment as a pair, covering assigned events and breaking stories outside the office. We are a dynamic duo, but Jason drives me nothing short of crazy. He is possibly the most arrogant man I have ever met. At twenty-seven, he is only three years older than I am and is handsome in the traditional sense – blond, blue-eyed, with a strong jaw-line and a great body. Unfortunately he is all too aware of this, and he oozes charm and lives for flattery. Jason is so slick he has slept with half the women at the table, and, sadly, most would all too willingly have him back in a heartbeat if he so much as batted those ridiculously long eyelashes at them. I think part of the reason he is so patronizing towards me is that I refuse to sleep with him……….continues……


 About the Author:_DSC0104 (2)

Wife, mother of 3, businesswoman by day and author by night, Melissa Delport is the author of The Legacy Series and Rainfall. She graduated from the University of South Africa with a Bachelors Degree in English in 2000. She currently lives with her husband and three children in Hillcrest, South Africa.

Her first novel, The Legacy, published in 2013, is the first in The Legacy Series trilogy, and is followed by the sequel The Legion. The final book, The Legend is due out in 2014. She has also written an independent novel entitled Rainfall, a psychological romance, and a science-fiction, action-adventure called The Traveler.

An avid reader herself, Melissa finally decided to stop “watching from the sidelines” and to do what is her passion.

“I was driving home from work when inspiration struck, and a storyline started unravelling in my head. For a few days, it was all I could think about and eventually I realised that the only way to get it out of my head, was to put it all down on paper. I started writing, and that was that.”


Website: www.melissadelport.com

Twitter: @melissadelport

Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/TheMelissaDelportBookClub

Blog: www.melissadelport.com

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/melissadelport/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/MelissaDelport

Publisher’s website www.traceymcdonaldpublishers.com


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#Giveaway #Interview and Hollywood Series Spotlight with @tibbyarmstrong


Tibby Armstrong is here today for an interview and showcase her Hollywood series. There is also a Giveaway for one of the books at the end of the post.

Welcome Tibby,

Why don’t you tell us a little bit about Numbers Game? Something that’s not in the blurb.
I just re-read the blurb to see whether or not there’s anything I didn’t give away about the story there, and really there isn’t much. I can tell you, however, that this book was meant to be a romp through Greg and Aaron’s sex life–that sexy counting game that you’ve all been asking me to reveal in more detail since the beginning of the series. As usual, however, these guys had their own ideas and they actually handed me a Plot rather than a Romp. Don’t get me wrong, the sex and steam is all there, but this book ended up being so much more rich and layered than even I ever dreamed!

What adversities did you face as an aspiring author?
Oh heck, I’m still facing them. Every author struggles with finding their voice, learning the publishing ropes, and the trials that come with developing their craft over each project. If you stop growing, you’re not living, right? I think the challenge I’m facing right now is what to do now that I’ve decided to take my work in another direction. I’ve hit a dry patch while I’m figuring this out. I hope it ends soon, because my nights are pretty long and boring without writing!

What do you believe is your best marketing tool to sell your books?
The best marketing tool to sell a book is word of mouth. When one reader loves a book and talks about it on Goodreads or a blog such as yours, that can result in great buzz for a book. The readers who come out to support my books and give me air space on their blogs are the most valuable resource I or any other author has!

How much research do you put into your books before writing them?
It depends on the book, really, and what it requires. For instance, I flew out to LA twice to get a better feel for the place, and to cement my ideas about geography and culture. I didn’t really need to do this since place doesn’t figure as largely into the Hollywood series as you might think, but it helped me to ground the characters. I am not the kind of person who can only dream up a world. I need to base a little of it off a seed of reality so that I have a solid foundation from which to work. From there, I can let imagination take flight.

Why did you choose this genre to write?
This might not be a popular thing to say, but I didn’t choose the genre. It chose me. I had a story to tell, and that story actually didn’t include a lot of sex. I happened to sell it to a publisher who required more sex in the books. I’ve been asked to add sex scenes in every book in the series. I would have been more comfortable if this hadn’t been the case for all of the books other than Numbers Game. It has been and always will be my intention to write a good story. Writing erotic romance has been a means to an end, and an opportunity I was glad to be given; however, I am actually going in a slightly different direction precisely because I want the story to be what sells, and not the sex, at least at this point in my journey.

What makes all your long hours of writing worth it?
Totally the readers! Completely! When I get to chat with readers and get to know them, the interaction brings dimensions to the stories that I didn’t see. Literally, readers breathe life into the story telling experience for me.

If you can say one thing to your readers, what would that be?
Thank you! You’ve allowed me to see these characters and my world with so much more depth. Through you I’ve had experiences and joys I’d never thought to have when I began writing.

Sinfully Fun 

If you were granted 3 wishes what would they be?

To waltz with George Clooney, to mud wrestle with Angelina Jolie, and to have dinner with Jodie Foster.

What’s your guilty pleasure?

I eat pistachios in bed and sleep in the crumbs. Yep. I’m that kind of gal.

Do you have any hidden talents? 😉

Not a one. If I’ve got it, I flaunt it! 😉

Would you rather….

Read a paperback or on an ereader?

An ereader. How else am I supposed to sneak in a chapter on my mobile in the loo at work?

Drink champagne or beer?

Definitely champagne. I love bubbles.

Heels or flats?

Flats. I can barely cross the room barefoot without tripping over something. I’m a disaster in heels.

Facebook or Twitter?

Twitter! I love the immediacy of interaction.

Go to the beach or go to a wintery mountain retreat?

I lived in Vermont for 10 years. Definitely the beach!

Is there anything else you’d like to add?

Yes! If you have the opportunity to check out KJ Charles’ Magpie Lord series, please do so! One of the things that convinced me that I want to branch out a little in my GLBT story telling is the rich, layered world building and character creation in her magic-driven series. It’s some of the best story telling (and fun sex!) I’ve read in a long, long time.

Happy reading!

 Numbers Game (Hollywood #5)


Even after the “I do’s” are said, relationships change and need work to grow and thrive. Aaron has found himself increasingly drawn to the idea of taking his and Greg’s BDSM-lite games to the next level. Unsure if he can fully unleash his inner sadist without losing complete control, he seeks out a professional Dom to teach him the literal, and figurative, ropes.

Greg isn’t the same intractable, walking wounded he was when he and Aaron met, but Aaron is still his touchstone to happiness. Greg would like to learn how to approach Aaron’s Zen-like calm, but first he knows he needs to learn the most elusive lesson of all: self love. When he discovers what Aaron has been up to, he struggles to understand how he fits into his lover’s new version of himself.

In Numbers Game, together, Aaron and Greg embark on a sensual journey that, over a few short hours, will change the course of their relationship and their lives. In the end, they prove that through love, and a little dance called dominance and submission, even the most impossible things become possible.

Buy Link: Amazon


Aaron had been sitting in the car, watching the restaurant and the parking lot for over forty minutes. Greg had been known to be tardy while on a project, but not showing up at all wasn’t unusual for him either. 

“He’s not coming.” Anyone watching from outside the vehicle would have thought Aaron spoke to himself. 

Dex’s answer came from car speakers that were Bluetooth-connected to Aaron’s cell. “Then the game is on.” 

Aaron gripped the steering wheel and scanned the parking area one more time. The restaurant lot had been steadily filling for the past half hour, but Greg’s black SUV hadn’t been among the stream of arrivals. 

“I’m waiting another ten minutes.” 

“Go now.” Dex’s reply sounded muffled as if he held the receiver under his chin and focused on something other than a conversation Aaron was paying good money to have. “He’s already late enough for you to trip him up.” 

The steering wheel squeaked as Aaron wrung the leather in indecision. “I don’t want to play that kind of game with him. It’s dishonest.” 

“You know all about mind fucks. They’re not dishonest. They’re part of the thrill for the sub.” 

Aaron made a doubtful sound in the back of his throat. 

Dex sighed. “You wanted to take the next step, see if he’s ready for heavier play. So take it.” 

Six months ago when Aaron had wandered into that infamous LA club with Dex, he hadn’t truly pictured this moment of truth. His stomach churned with an uncharacteristic display of nerves. Against all reason, he pressed the Ignition button, and the car purred to life. The drive along the winding roads at sunset would be beautiful, but he doubted he’d notice a single detail. 

“He’s going to be pissed,” Aaron muttered and pictured Greg’s dark scowl. 

Dex snorted. “From what you say, pissed is his default.” 

“He’s going to have a right to be pissed.” There was a difference between handling Greg’s anger and handling his righteous anger. For one, when someone else caused the emotion, Aaron knew how to defuse a hurting and confused Greg. When Aaron caused the pain, however, it was another story. “I haven’t lied to him. Ever.” 

“Too late, sweetheart,” Dex said. “I told you to tell him at the beginning.” 

“I wanted to be ready.” The words ran together in a guilty muddle. 

“No, you didn’t.” Footsteps and the creak of a swinging door said Dex went somewhere, probably to his play space. “You wanted to control something you weren’t supposed to control. You were afraid he’d say no to this new you, and Greg isn’t allowed to say no the way you have things set up. Before you met me, you’d never even heard of a safe word.” 

If he wasn’t driving, Aaron would have closed his eyes. Dex might be a professional Dom, but he was also a licensed psychologist, and he’d figured out the combination lock to the inside of Aaron’s skull six months ago. Hell, six months ago, Aaron hadn’t even been sure what kind of games he and Greg had been playing. It had all started as a way to give his lover some badly needed boundaries and had turned into something murkier where lines of sex and power blurred. 

“So, tell me, Dr. Valenti,” Aaron demanded, his tone more acerbic than he normally allowed. “Why did you let me keep seeing you if you knew I would end up here?” 

“And where, exactly, is here?” Dex asked. 

Aaron blew out an exaggerated breath. “Here is me having all this knowledge but unable to tell Greg how I gained it without losing his trust. Trust, which you’ve made abundantly clear is a required component of this…this…game.” 

Dex chuckled darkly, and six months of being tutored in bondage and beatings worked the dials of Aaron’s Pavlovian response. He shivered and navigated the next curve in the road by rote, seeing in his mind’s eye a man at Dex’s feet, his head cranked back and a large red ball gag in his mouth. Next, Greg’s face swam before Aaron, the same gag spreading his lips. Aaron’s cock awakened. 

“You were supposed to end up here, Mr. Blake, so you could learn from your mistakes,” Dex said, then whispered, “Next time I tell you to heel, you’ll heel, won’t you?” 

A moan reverberated across Aaron’s car speakers, and Aaron realized Dex hadn’t intended the last statement for him. He pictured that moan coming from Greg’s compliant lips and swallowed down a flood of saliva. Shifting in his seat, he adjusted the legroom in his trousers. Ultimately he’d learned all this so he could safely pleasure Greg and keep their relationship fresh. This was all about taking their sexual relationship to the next level. He had nothing to feel guilty for. Not really. 

“I let you keep seeing me because we all have to work through our own shit–No. On your knees. You know better.” A sharp crack rent the air, and Aaron winced. He’d never slap Greg. Ever. That act would damage Greg’s sense of self-worth–and if there was one place Greg couldn’t take any more damage, it was to his ego. At one time Aaron might not have known why he wouldn’t do it, but he’d always known not to, even before Dex showed him the literal and figurative ropes. “If nothing else, you weren’t playing safe. You need to be safe, even if your games involve silk ropes and rose petals.” 

Thinking of all the years he’d engaged in a pseudo Dominant/submissive relationship with Greg without really knowing what it was or what they were doing, Aaron shuddered. How many times had they done things where Aaron could’ve hurt Greg mentally or physically? This time, guilt wormed its way into Aaron’s middle unhindered. 

“You know,” Aaron said, “I never thought of it in that way. It’s the way we are together. The way Greg expects me to be. How I’m comfortable being.” 

“You know what I mean.” Heavy breathing and shallow cries formed the backdrop to Dex’s reply. “Slavery went out almost two centuries ago. You can’t own Greg. He has the right to say no.” 

“And I always respected that. Even if I didn’t know what we were doing.” 

“Did you?” 

It was difficult to explain how the relationship with Greg worked. “I just know him. He likes the boundaries. Half the time I think he’s the one who’s setting them, not me.” 

“You’re a self-centered fuck.” There was no passion to the insult, just matter-of-fact reality. “You let him top from the bottom because it keeps you from having to take responsibility for the relationship. For any consequences to your actions.” 

Aaron’s gut clenched. How many times had his inner judge said the exact same thing? If there’d been a place to pull over, he would have. Instead he took calming, meditative breaths and tried to grasp for words that he’d been unable to find the entire time he’d been working with Dex. 

“We went through hell together. It forms a bond. I’ve known him for over fifteen years. I’d never hurt him. He knows it.” 

A rhythmic slapping took up in the background. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on what you’re doing?” Aaron asked. 

“My assistant is taking care of him. You have my full attention,” Dex answered. “But how do you know you’ve never hurt him? What about that scene in the graveyard when you were kids?” 

“That wasn’t a fucking scene. That was a brawl.” Bile rose in Aaron’s throat at mention of the long-ago fistfight that had almost gotten Greg killed. “And if I’d known you were going to take it out of context and hold it over my head like an emotional ransom note, I never would have told you about it.” 

Dex harrumphed. “From what you say, I’m betting Greg fetishized that moment and even pushed you into it. He wanted it, and you weren’t aware he was topping from the bottom. You nearly killed him because you couldn’t keep your cool with a pushy sub.” 

“We were teenagers! I didn’t even know what submission was.” Despite his bid to remain calm, anger crept into his tone. “That’s the most half-assed theory I ever heard.” 

“Oh? Do you really think S and M is only something we do after we join Fet Life? Or do you think it’s something we gravitate toward much earlier? Way before we have all the pretty little labels to affix?” Dex had gotten on his soapbox, and Aaron pressed his lips together to refrain from shoving him off it. “Even you just said Greg still controls most of your scenes–pushing you in unexpected ways. Ways that could end up making you lose control. Just like you did back then.” 

Aaron let out a frustrated growl as he turned onto the road to his and Greg’s house. “Stop putting words in my mouth.” 

“If I ever put something in your mouth, Aaron, you’ll know it.” Dex’s smile was evident in his tone. “We’re done tonight. Good luck.” 

“But–” The dead air on the other end of the line shut Aaron up. 

He swiped a palm down his face and inhaled deep through his nostrils, trying to push thoughts of Dex and his training out of his mind. He usually looked forward to having downtime with Greg and being able to relax and enjoy some hot, sweaty sex. Now that he’d been training under Dex, however? He knew too much. Too much that Greg didn’t know, and needed to know. Every time they’d had sex lately, all Aaron could focus on was choreographing the steps in his head. It was awful, and he wanted it to stop–to be like it once had been. They might’ve had a BDSM-lite relationship–or whatever the community called it–but it hadn’t been so fucking labeled and restrictive. Once upon a time, it had been natural and easy. 

In the past six months, sex had become an ever-increasing minefield Aaron was less and less sure he knew how to navigate. If it weren’t for his and Greg’s outrageously conflicting schedules, Aaron was fairly certain Greg would have noticed the physical and mental distance between them. Tonight, Aaron had to man up and put the intimacy back into their relationship. He owed it to them both. Besides, he was ready, and it was time. 

He pulled the car into the driveway and left it running as he stared at the front of the house. Greg’s SUV was in the drive. He was home. No movement came from the upper story. Either he was in the shower, or he was writing at the kitchen table instead of the office. 

Aaron clenched his jaw in a bid for determination and shoved his way out of the car. The door closed with a heavythunk, and Aaron pushed away from the vehicle. He forced his feet to take him up the front steps, opened the front door, and stood for a moment in the foyer. Silence greeted him. 


No answer came, and erotic tension stretched along Aaron’s spine, locking his vertebrae. The shower wasn’t running, which meant Greg was working. The setup couldn’t have been more perfect. Arousal and the comfort of a familiar and predictable dance–Aaron having told Greg to be on time, and Greg defying him, perhaps even on purpose with the whole topping-from-the-bottom thing–softened Aaron’s worries, bleeding some of the anxiety from him. This situation wasn’t so different from a thousand other nights that had played out over the course of their relationship. 

Aaron stepped into the kitchen. Bent over his black notebook, scribbling furiously in the waning light, Greg was wholly unaware of anything but the screenplay he created. The sun cast a pink glow over his pale skin, and the line of his shoulders curved protectively over the pages. One arm rested on the table as he hugged the notebook to him. The scratch of the pen and movement of his lips with the dialog he wrote showed him transfixed with the scene. He was so deep. No wonder he’d missed the time. 

The simplicity of his relationship with Greg struck Aaron in that moment. He knew this man in a way Dex would never understand. Maybe they hadn’t always been so close, but more than a decade and a half into their relationship, reading Greg’s reactions and moods was as easy to Aaron as spelling his own name. He didn’t have to think about what Greg needed, he just became what Greg needed. Now Aaron prayed Greg would understand that Aaron desperately needed something more in return. 

* * * * 

“You’re late.” Aaron’s tone registered as a placid breeze, drifting toward Greg like a caress. It was the calm before the storm. 

Greg snapped his head up as erotic panic bunched his abs and made him suck in a breath. He’d only meant to sit for a minute after he’d showered and dressed at four this afternoon. The red digits on the microwave clock read 6:41, telling him he’d gotten lost in his latest project. 

“Shit.” Greg gripped his fountain pen a little harder and awaited Aaron’s numbered penalty, loving the moment but hating himself for the failure. 

“How’s the screenplay coming?” Aaron settled his hip on the edge of the table and twisted to look at Greg’s notebook. His tanned hand covered a portion of one page. 

Apparently no number was forthcoming. Irritated with the deviation, Greg scowled at Aaron’s hand. “You’re going to smear the ink.” 

“Sorry.” Aaron took his hand away. “Ready for dinner?” 

“Yeah.” Greg settled the black leather cover over the pages he’d been laboring to get right for the past two days. They formed the beginnings of a project he and Aaron had undertaken with actors Kit Harris and Jeremy Ash to turn their favorite manga into a star vehicle. Now that Aaron had finally secured financing based off the treatment, buzz was building, adding to the pressure Greg already felt to do right by his friends–as if he weren’t enough of a perfectionist already. He stared at the notebook, realized where he’d gone wrong, and opened it again to scribble a few notes. 

Aaron gently slipped the pen from Greg’s fingers. “Car’s still running. Let’s go.” 

Greg hesitated, the notebook and Aaron calling to him equally. 

Aaron placed a hand on Greg’s shoulder. “Eat first. I’ll be gone for three weeks. Soon you can work all you want.” 

Greg stood. Even if he wasn’t hungry, Aaron deserved to have a nice dinner and a break. He’d been going nonstop for months to negotiate financing for the film, and his trip to Japan to meet with key investors would be no cakewalk. 

“Didn’t we miss our reservation?” Greg asked, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket. 

“When you didn’t show, I changed the time,” Aaron said pleasantly as he opened the coat closet. 

Greg glanced at the clock again. He had kept Aaron waiting for over fifty minutes, and it wasn’t like Aaron didn’t know it. Even if Aaron wasn’t annoyed, there was always a penalty for lateness. Inhaling, Greg gathered breath to ask if Aaron was forgetting something, then he swallowed down his question. No sense waking the dragon. If Aaron had meant to give him a penalty, he would have. It was just…he had never forgotten before. It was part of their relationship that Greg relied on–a pressure relief valve that had seemed to erode more and more of late until he had begun to feel as if he and Aaron were the proverbial ships passing in the night. Greg frowned at his bare feet. Had the passion gone out of their marriage so soon? 

“Greg?” Aaron arched one blond eyebrow. 

Shaking off tendrils of worry and confusion, Greg slipped his feet into his loafers. He left the house as Aaron set the alarm and locked up. Outside, the sun had just disappeared, its last streaks across the Pacific melting to rose-tinted whitecaps rushing toward the visible slice of beach. 

The screenplay still clouded Greg’s head, making everything unnaturally distant as if he glimpsed the world from behind a magical veil. Even the scuff of his footsteps along the paved path to Aaron’s car seemed otherworldly. He had just enough contact with the terrestrial plane to notice the top on the convertible was down. 

“I need my coat,” he said, turning to go back inside. 

Aaron chuckled. “It’s in your hand, Greg. I gave it to you in the hall.” 

Greg looked down and noted the weight of the brown leather bomber draped from his fingertips. “Oh.” 

He bet Aaron had tried to call him on his cell too, and he hadn’t noticed that either. In the zone totally and completely, he wouldn’t have registered anything less than a seven-point earthquake or, eventually, the steady and annoying buzz of the kitchen timer. Attempting to shove thoughts of the manuscript, his and Aaron’s unraveling sexual connection, and his own tardiness aside, he buckled his seatbelt as Aaron slid into the driver’s seat. 

“Where are we going again?” Though forming words took all his mental faculties, he made an effort at conversation, knowing it would please Aaron. 

“Dora Flora.” 

Greg tried not to groan. “The place with the flowered wallpaper?” 

“One and the same.” Aaron slung one arm around Greg’s headrest and turned to look out the rear window as he backed out of the driveway. 

Always overbooked, not to mention overpriced, the trendy restaurant had a floral theme. Everything including the salt and pepper shakers was either covered in or made of flowers, even the cuisine. Though he’d never been, Greg had heard reports from enough acquaintances to never want to set foot in the place. 

“If it’s a face full of flowers you want,” Greg muttered, “I can oblige for free.” 

Aaron’s grin was both feral and triumphant, and a tiny shiver slithered down Greg’s spine as if Aaron had skimmed a nail from nape to tailbone with deliberate care. “Open the glove box.” 

“What?” Greg managed. 

“If I have to say it again, we’ll be at five.” Drawl soft, Aaron delivered the warning as if he were discussing the weather or a late-afternoon traffic report. 

Greg sucked in a short, sharp breath. They were at four? Since when? Had Aaron counted three earlier? Maybe he had missed it. And when had Aaron said they were at four? Despite Greg’s confusion, heat rushed to his cock, and he swore he got a nasty case of chafing from the rapid rise of tender flesh against his zipper. 

If we’re at four, that means… 

He fumbled for the latch on the glove box, and the little door fell open. A silicone cock cage shone white against the dark interior, its brass lock and key an indication of the device’s purpose. Greg gaped. Aaron had planned this? And since when did he buy things like cock cages? 

Aaron’s smile widened, his polite veneer cracking so Greg could see the dark eroticism beneath his normally Zen-like demeanor. “Put it on.” 

Realization dawned. The rat bastard hadn’t counted three out loud, so Greg would let down his guard and get to four. Usually Greg was very careful about letting things progress to this point. This aspect of the numbers game could be fun, but Greg liked to choose the time and place, because not only was Greg usually on orgasm restriction at four, but tonight Aaron had apparently decided he had to wear this medieval device as part of the punishment. Yes, this was precisely why Greg made good and goddamned sure not to reach four without a lot of careful planning. His cock thumped in protest, and he bit back the urge to swear. 

“Want to know what I have planned for ‘five,’ Greggie?” Aaron reached over to ruffle his hair, a little aggressive. 

In a bid not to smack Aaron’s hand away, Greg clenched his fist around the sensual torture device. If the cage was the way Aaron planned to carry out four, five would be unreal. 

“No.” The word wasn’t supposed to come out hoarse, but it did anyway. 

Idling the car at a stoplight, Aaron gripped Greg’s hair and tugged. A little twist exposed Greg’s neck and forced Greg to meet Aaron’s eyes. Lips curved into a sensually cruel smile, polite mask fully abandoned, Aaron dominated him with his gaze in the red glow of the stoplight. Greg’s cock tried to punch a hole through his jeans as he absorbed the raw, sensual power. 

“Then put on the cage,” Aaron said, his high cheekbones and chiseled features marking him as a predator in the shadowed night. 

The yes, sir stuck in his throat, and Greg glanced away. 

Aaron let go of his hair and put up the car’s top while Greg undid his leather belt. His trembling fingers seemed to belong to someone else. If he thought he’d been high on writing, this surreal separation from his body sent him soaring. Fiction had nothing on what Aaron made him feel during sex. 

In the back of Greg’s mind, he knew he was supposed to feel remorse for his lateness, but all he felt was turned on. Somehow he managed to work his button open and zipper down before he pushed his jeans and briefs around his thighs. His cock sprang free. Fiercely red, it bobbed with each jostle to the car’s suspension. 

God, he hoped they didn’t get pulled over. 

Examining the device in his hand, Greg surmised he was supposed to push his cock into the tube and stretch his balls through a series of rings. The bottommost ring he’d lock shut, securing the entire diabolical contraption. Hot flesh met his chilled palm as he grasped his cock to steady it. He bit his lip and focused on stuffing his too-hard, too-wide member into the tight silicone. Precum leaked, easing his way only slightly. At one-third length, his cock hit something flexible and pointy. The bite of the silicone surprised more than hurt, but he yelped and pulled the thing off. 

He glowered at Aaron. “What the fuck?” 

Aaron’s eyes widened as a small smile flitted about his mouth. “Something wrong?” 

Greg held up the evil piece of plastic. “There are spikes in this thing.” 

He squeezed the sensual torture device, crumpling it. When he released, the thing sprang back to its original shape. 

Aaron had returned his gaze to the road. “Wait until you feel the ball separator.” 

Greg choked back a laugh. “You tried it on?” 

Frowning, Aaron shot him a look. “You don’t think I’d do something to you that I haven’t done to myself first, do you?” 

This time Greg did laugh. 

“What?” Aaron asked. 

“You haven’t done quite everything to yourself that you’ve done to me.” Aaron raised his brows, and Greg flashed him a grin. “You can’t go fuck yourself, can you?” 

“Wiseass.” Aaron’s eyes sparkled with amusement, and he glanced at Greg’s cock. “Let’s see if you’re still cracking jokes in a minute. Put on the cage.” 

Copyright © Tibby Armstrong


TA_NoApologies_CoverLGNo Apologies (Hollywood #1)

Cheerful and friendly, Aaron Blake has never met a puzzle that intrigues him more than brooding Greg Falkner. He wants to get to know his roommate, but it seems the only way past his shell is through it. When a reluctant friendship turns into a budding romance, can the two keep their feelings secret from their classmates? Or will their newfound love destroy them both?

Or so goes the story screenwriter Greg Falkner spins for audiences and his longtime partner, Aaron Blake, in No Apologies. Loosely based on their lives together, the film rocks Hollywood with its blatant portrayal of two teenagers falling in love and coming of age in a world that struggles to accept them, while they in turn struggle to accept themselves.

At the end of the evening, will Greg’s risky venture break a relationship that’s already foundering? Or will the real-life Greg and Aaron also find their happily ever after with No Apologies?

Note:This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Male/male sexual practices, violence.

Buy Link: Amazon


Acting Out (Hollywood #2)TA_ActingOut_coverlg

Jeremy Ash, aspiring actor, is single, gorgeous…and openly, quietly gay. When he lands a starring role opposite America’s favorite former child star, 21-year old Kit Harris, he’s ecstatic and more than a little attracted to the enigmatic star.

Kit Harris’s career has been flagging and his agent promises this new film, an edgy coming out story with a famed director, is just the thing to get it back on track. The problem is that the film is relatively intimate in nature, and Kit’s definitely not gay. He’s not even slightly bent.

When the two men collide in a crushing first test kiss, Kit’s left reeling and Jeremy’s left wanting, and both are left gasping for air. And that was just the screen test. When filming starts and the two men are brought into close proximity every day, passions ignite and souls collide–both on screen and off. The two men find that the only way to assuage their mutual lust is to give in to it. Kit’s sure this strange new attraction will run its course; Jeremy’s hoping it never has to end.

But when a manipulative model obtains salacious film footage of the two men in bed, Kit’s prepared to do whatever it takes to save his career. But how far is too far to push the boundaries of love and how long can one man hide from himself?

Note:This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable: male/male sexual practices.

Buy Link: Amazon


ta_fulldisclosureFull Disclosure (Hollywood #3)

Weddings are stressful under the best of circumstances, which this certainly isn’t. Following the release of his debut movie, No Apologies, Greg Falkner is working hard to be a better man to fiancé, Aaron Blake, despite his baser instincts. When their alma mater contacts Greg and asks him to serve as their celebrity master of ceremonies, for an upcoming charity event, he grudgingly accepts at Aaron’s urging.

Aaron admires the new man Greg has become, yet craves the old independence of his lover. He’d love to strike a compromise in the relationship and hopes that returning to their beginning will help Greg lay some personal demons to rest.

Neither man anticipates the violence that will befall one of them, potentially changing both lives in unimaginable ways. What emerges from the darkness, through frustrations and determination, is true deep love

Note:Warning: This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable: male/male sexual practices.

Buy Link: Amazon


Outtakes (Hollywood #4)ta_outtakes

After actor Kit Harris tells the world he’s gay, life isn’t all cupcakes and rainbow flags. It’s decidedly less tasty and a lot less colorful. Coming out might not have been the best thing for a Hollywood career or a high-profile love life.

Try as he might, rising star Jeremy Ash can’t seem to stir Kit’s interest long enough to heal his bruised ego or fragile heart. Complicating matters, a celebrity chef enters with plans to cook up a new angle on Kit’s career.

Jeremy’s worried Kit’s going off half-baked, or worse, turning up the heat on a new relationship. Either way, Jeremy knows the situation is a recipe for disaster if he and Kit can’t come up with the ingredients to love.

Buy Link: Amazon


Tibby Armstrong has a lust for books and a love of travel. On the terrestrial plane, she dreams of springtime in a Paris flat, and summer at a cottage in Oxford. She travels more extensively, through worlds both strange and familiar, via romance, mystery, urban fantasy, and biography.
Having completed her Master of Library Science, when she’s not writing, Tibby works toward defying librarian stereotypes; yet, she lives with three cats, seven computers, and enough books to collapse a poorly engineered house.Tibby loves hearing from kindred bibliophiles like you wherever she travels. More the armchair type? Visit her Goodreads author page or email her at tibby@tibbyarmstrong.com. You never know where she’ll turn up next.**

Tibby has offered to give away an ebook copy of any book from the Hollywood series

Just click on the rafflecopter link below to enter

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Good Luck

Winner picked on Thursday May 22nd

Thanks Tibby for being here today and answering my questions.

Go check out all her books 🙂


Spotlight/Excerpt: Hearts in Ruin by @jcconwaywriter


 J.C. Conway is here with his new release Hearts in Ruin

Buy Link:  Amazon



Andrea Hollister seeks a quiet career as a mainstream archaeologist—nothing more or less—and she’s one dig, and an ancient secret, away. So when Andrea must join super-hot maverick prodigy Daniel Fuchs on a New Mexico dig, her smartest move is to secretly undermine his unconventional theories, despite growing attraction and guilt. But what if Daniel is right? Two betrayals and a devastating court order later, Andrea and Daniel find their careers, and their shaky relationship, on the brink of ruins. To survive professionally and emotionally, Andrea must come clean and save Daniel’s dig. But can she do so in time, with bulldozers positioned to level the site?



Hearts in Ruin is a contemporary romance about two young archaeologists, Daniel and Andrea, struggling with each other’s conflicting goals and against sinister outside forces at a controversial New Mexico dig. In the following scene, they are attending a formal faculty dinner at Daniel’s former university–the school that founded the site and then shut it down. Tension between Daniel and Andrea has been high, despite (or maybe higher because of) a strong attraction both have been fighting to ignore.


Later in the evening, Daniel slipped out to the patio for a reprieve—just a few moments of peace. The wide balcony overlooked the east side of campus with the lights of town beyond, backed by the night shadows of the mesa. He inhaled. Even here, amid streets, buildings, miles of surrounding commercial and residential neighborhoods, the scent of the uncivilized desert predominated. Its stillness soothed him.

“So there you are.”

He turned, startled. Andrea stepped into view, stunning in Pamela’s dress. He’d seen her in it all evening, but not in the moonlight like this.

He struggled for composure. He hadn’t expected anyone to join him here, especially Andrea. She was a hit at the dinner, a fresh young woman, as smart as the stuffy regulars, but piercingly direct and good humored.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Sure.” She stepped toward him. “Except my date ditched me.”

“I didn’t think you needed me in there.”

Her eyes glinted. “So, you tired of the crowd?”

He laughed. She could not have nailed it much better. “Let’s just say I’ve already been to enough meetings, dinners, and functions of all kinds with this group to fill a lifetime.”

She stood next to him now at the railing and stared across the campus. “It’s a pretty school.”

He shrugged. “It has its charms.”

A subtle hint of perfume mingled seamlessly with the desert breeze. Amazing. Most of the women inside seemed anxious to disguise or completely cover up the smell and feel of the dry desert environment. But Andrea, who had never lived in the climate or even visited the desert before, chose a fragrance that accepted it and even complimented its arid beauty.

“Not all fake Ivy-League like the U,” she explained.

He smiled. “No. And if you have a thing for adobe and stucco then you can really learn to love it.”

She turned, leaning back against the railing. “The people seem nice,” she ventured. “I don’t really know why you left. Just because they didn’t support the dig? It seems you could’ve worked it out with these folks.”

Daniel could not tear his gaze from her profile and the bare shoulders just touched by soft and inviting golden-brown hair. But he was held by more than that. All of her qualities were admirable. Not only was she fascinatingly attractive, and perhaps even in spite of it, she was brilliant and clear minded, and she loved her work.

“They um…” Daniel’s throat thickened, as if he were trying to talk underwater. There was something about her—something between them that transcended this project, he knew. He’d been avoiding it. He wanted no complications during the dig. But that was only part of the problem. The fact was, he didn’t want to draw her too far into his private quest. He couldn’t do that to her. Not now, not at this critical juncture with her career poised to launch. It was bad enough that she was the project leader, and he hoped she didn’t have to explain that away the rest of her life after he finally published his findings. But why then, if he felt that way, did he recruit her? She was clearly in the running for a post at a good school. This project, once the controversy surfaced, was not a good stepping stone on that path. Did he really think if he kept her role limited that it could minimize the fallout to her career?

It had been different for him. He didn’t work so hard for his opportunities. He had been young when he reached that point. Just eighteen, still a kid. He met Madeline and willingly abandoned most of the career courses Andrea should follow. He was committed to his project. He never saw it as a choice. But how could he lead Andrea down the same path—especially after she worked so hard for so many years to gain a solid foothold in academia?

Andrea’s brow furrowed with contemplation and she turned to him. “I think you should have just stuck to your guns here. They like you more than you know.”

He drew a breath. “Not all of them.”

She lowered her chin. “You’re about as likeable as they get.”

He smiled, and without thinking, touched her hand. She didn’t retreat. The air warmed with electricity. A remnant of his rational mind searched for a response to her statement—a quip, a compliment, a rebuttal…anything. But the futile effort was overshadowed by the sharpening of his senses, an awakening triggered by her presence and warm touch.

“I uh…”

She turned to face him squarely. He touched her arm, feeling the impossible softness of her skin. Her hand touched his stomach and slide to his waist. Her expression shifted. Her eyes surveyed his face. Was she searching for resistance or its opposite? He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he cared. But he could tell that this closeness was something they’d both thought about before.

The moment grew, nearly eclipsing all else. He knew in his mind and heart that if he didn’t embrace her now, the moment could vanish forever. His heart pounded. He did not weigh options. This was not a matter of choice. It was roaring compulsion. He leaned close. He felt the heat of Andrea’s cheek, her warm breath. Their lips brushed across each other. Daniel savored the soft pass once, twice, then opening slightly more and connecting, pressing, tasting and melding. His chest filled with fire. The world fell away. He reached around her, pulling her close. She nestled in, leaving no gap.

He felt no barrier between them. His lips touched her nose, her cheek, the crook of her neck. He returned to her lips and they tasted each other again. Andrea mewed. It felt right to be lost in her touch and her breath. Their chests heaved together. Their embrace softened. Daniel roamed the curve of her spine. She responded with equal, soft passion. He felt the release of a long, satisfied sigh.

They touched foreheads.

He smiled. She giggled lightly.

A rough, “Ahem,” broke the moment like shattered crystal. They weren’t alone.

Eyes widened, they released their holds and turned.

“I don’t mean to disturb you.”

Daniel regained his bearing. William Lassiter and Morgan Hamilton stood near the patio door holding cocktail tumblers.

Copyright (c) 2014, J. C. Conway


About the Authorjc

I write science-fiction, romance and fantasy stories for adults, young adults and middle-grade readers. I’m a a fan of great fiction that stretches the imagination, probes the depths of the human condition, or otherwise illuminates the unknown or the misunderstood. Aside from my devotion, as a reader and writer, to the truth and breadth of fiction, I’m also a complex-litigation attorney, a former high-school math and computer-science teacher, Vice President of the local NAMI affiliate (National Alliance on Mental Illness), a husband, father, grandfather and a child of this wonderful universe that is both crushingly clear and maddeningly mystifying.


LSB Author Page – http://www.lsbooks.com/j-c-conway-c456.php

Website http://jcconway.com

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/J.C.Conway.Writer

Twitter – @jcconwaywriter




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Excerpt of Sinful Surrender (Psychic Menage #1) #Sexy #Romance #Fantasy #MFMM


LSB Cover Art Template for PhotoShopLogan gave a thumbs-up then said to Fay, “When I want to get things done fast, I’ll have to remember to get you jealous.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Somehow you managed to get results none of us could. We’ve been stuck here for what seems like forever. Every day we asked to leave and got rejected for one reason or another. Then your sweet violet eyes turn green with envy because of the attention I gave that young woman, and the next thing I know, we’re out of here.”

“I wasn’t jealous. And she wasn’t a woman. She was a girl.”

“She was a woman and very familiar with the ways of men.”

“She was a tart and tease.”

“Darlin’, I hate to inform you, but the little lady was no tease. She was as hungry as a mountain lion, and I was going to be her main course until you stepped in.”

“Really? Well, I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“No you aren’t.” Logan smirked. “You were jealous.”

“I was not!”

“Come on, admit it. You’re not as indifferent to me as you claim, are you?”

“What?” Fay groaned with her attempt to turn around to see his face, but found it impossible harnessed the way she was.

Chandra finished getting Arlo strapped in and shouted, “Are you two finished scraping?” She motioned for Logan to push the red button. “Let’s go!”

As he reached for his button, Chandra’s sail filled with wind, and off she flew across the dirt with them in her wake.

“I’ll have you know,” Fay hollered so he could hear her above the wind rushing past their ears, “I don’t care if the girl was flirting with you or not.”

“Really? Then why did you force your way between us and shoo her out? I think you like me. Might even adore me.”

“Abhor you, did you say? Yes, you might be right.”

“I said adore. And you do. You just don’t know it yet.”

“Adore?” Fay gave a dramatic gasp and stretching her arms up toward the heavens and then addressed God. “Please, if what he says is true…get me to a psychiatrist. I’ve gone mad.”

He laughed. “Mad with desire for me. That’s why you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous! The damn girl had my breakfast on your tray. An-and while I really don’t care that she wanted to play peekaboo with you, she was holding my food hostage while you played boobie-gazer for an hour.”

He laughed again. “Your exaggeration of my two-second look tells me you were jealous. And I think it’s because you adore me.”

Fay lifted her head and let it fall back with force, smacking him in the center of his chest. He exhaled hard at her hit. He gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Are you crazy?”

“I don’t know, but I do know I’m not jealous,” she lied.

“I could have lost control of this damn thing.” He tapped her hard on the top of her head to make his point heard.

“Ouch,” Fay mumbled. “Like you almost lost control with that girl?”

“Lost control? Hardly.” Logan snorted. “I can’t even tell you what she looked like.”

“I’m sure you’d recognize her breasts. You got a good look at those.”

“Not really. I was too busy watching you with my peripheral vision to notice what was in front of me. I wouldn’t know the girl or her breasts if I passed her or them on the street. There was only one thing I was eyeing, and that was you.”

“Oh, God. You’re so full of it.”

“I think you find me irresistible, sexy, and adorable.” He emphasized the last three words with a firm tap on the top of her head.

She swatted at the air in hopes of hitting his hand to make him stop rapping at her brain. “It’s more than obvious, you need a psychiatrist even more than me.”

“Well, if you’re not jealous, why did you react the way you did?”

“Because…because I care about Drakker and Arlo. I wouldn’t want them to end up with a wife who’s a tart.”

“Oh. So a tart’s fine for me, but not for them?”

“I-I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did.” He sounded hurt. “And for your information, if we crash at this speed, we’ll both be dead. So don’t hit me with your head like that again.”

She’d squelched his talk about jealousy, but something about the victory wasn’t satisfying. She couldn’t deny he’d secretly become her hero the night he carried her to safety. Whenever she woke during that long ordeal, never once did she hear him complain. Never once did he ask someone else to hold her. Never once did he give up on her for his own safety.