Thursday, August 31, 2017

Excerpt Reveal for When We Touch - OH MY ❤️


SNEAK PEEK  of When We Touch, an all-new sexy, second chance standalone from Tia Louise is coming September 5th!



~ Jackson ~
Faint light flickers from her windows, and I see the long curtains moving in the breeze. She sleeps with those balcony French doors open. The scaffolding stands beside it like a temptation, daring me to resist.

“Ember,” I say in a voice just louder than normal.

I’m on fire, driven by lust, desire, need. My heart is beating so fast, I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.

“Ember Rose,” I say a touch louder.

Shadows move in the windows above. A lone figure catches the moving curtains and holds them apart. My chest tightens, and I’m sure it’s her. She holds the long sheer in her hand, tight against her side and steps into the window. She’s not on the balcony, but she’s there in the shadows looking down on me.

I’m standing in the street looking up at her, my chest rising and falling fast, waiting for one word.

“What do you want, Jackson?” Her voice is hushed, but loud enough for me to hear clearly.

“Tell me to come up,” I say in the same tone.

My muscles strain for her. I don’t know if anyone is around. I don’t think they are as most of the residents live further north in the old neighborhood part of town. It’s just like Ember to choose this place to live. She’s always been just outside their rules.

“No,” she says, but I hear the waver in her voice. “Go home.”

“You are my home.”

She’s quiet, but she doesn’t go away. She doesn’t close the doors and shut me out. It’s a start—a tiny one, but one I’ll take.

Without hesitation, I go to the scaffolding and climb. I’m on her balcony in seconds. Standing on the balcony, I’m feverish with anticipation of what might happen next.

She’s just inside the room watching me through the open door.

“Come to me,” I say in a low voice.

It’s quieter with her so close, but the hush only makes it more intimate. A cloud moves across the moon, and the world goes dark. She’s lit from behind, and I see she’s only wearing a thin white tank and panties.

I’m consumed with longing. My cock twitches in the darkness, and I want to bury it deep in her clenching heat. I want to kiss her pussy and make her come. I want to hear the moans that have haunted me for a decade.

The cloud slides away and she disappears in the moonlight.

“Ember,” my voice cracks. “Please. Let me touch you.”

A quiet noise, a hesitation.

Suspense is a painful knot in my throat.

The slightest movement, and she steps forward into the silvery light. Her shirt is thin, and I can just make out the dark tips of her nipples, beaded and pointing at me. I life my hand, holding it palm up to her. It feels like an eternity, but she slowly places her hand in mine. 


From international bestselling author Tia Louise comes a new STAND-ALONE second-chance romance…
Ember Rose was spicy-sweet seduction.
My biggest temptation.
My biggest regret.
I thought she’d always be waiting for me.
I was wrong.
Now I’m back in Oceanside searching for peace, hoping to escape what my life has become.
She isn’t supposed to be here…
Dark hair blowing in the ocean breeze,
Luscious curves barely hidden by thin cotton.
I didn’t come back for her.
But when we touch, I know I’ll do whatever it takes to make her mine…


★ Pre-Order WHEN WE TOUCH at the special 99 CENT price NOW:
(price will increase to $3.99 on Weds., 9/6!)

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About Tia Louise:

Tia Louise is the award-winning, international bestselling author of the ONE TO HOLD and DIRTY PLAYERS series and co-author of the #4 Amazon bestseller THE LAST GUY. From “Readers’ Choice” nominations, to USA Today “Happily Ever After” nods, to winning the 2015 “Favorite Erotica Author” and the 2014 “Lady Boner Award” (LOL!), nothing makes her happier than communicating with fans and weaving new tales into the Alexander-Knight world of stories. A former journalist, Louise lives in the center of the USA with her lovely family and one grumpy cat. There, she dreams up stories she hopes are engaging, hot, and sexy, and that cause readers rethink common public locations...

Connect with Tia:  
Twitter: @AuthorTLouise
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Saturday, August 19, 2017

Plus One by Mae Wood - Single Dad Nirvana


TITLE: Plus One
AUTHOR: Mae Wood
COVER DESIGN: Alyssa Garcia | Uplifting Designs


If you can stand the heat, there's a hot single dad in the kitchen.

At not-quite forty and with his son in his last year of high school, Bert's going to be dining alone.

His restaurant's wine rep has a few ideas on how he might sate all of his appetites.

He hasn't been buying what she's been selling, but she’s only in Memphis for a few months before moving back home to California.

Besides, it's not like he's going to fall in love for the first time in his life or anything crazy like that, right?

Plus One is a steamy standalone novel.


First Off, I am a totally big sucker for the 'single dad' storyline. When I saw the opportunity for cover re-reveal/sales blitz, no words other than "Where do I sign up?" were spoken by yours truly.  

Bert is the perfect hot, tatted, alpha males all us romance readers swoon to find. Drennan is the perfect blend of strong, determined yet owns her femininity. Together the chemistry on the pages starts with a slow burn and eventually gets hotter with each page turn. Add PLUS >> Grady is not the typical child to the single dad. But a high school senior ready to be his own man. Some of the best advice came straight from the mouths of babes. 

I loved that the author gave us a May/December romance but turned the tables to consider what if one makes the choices that don't seem possible.  The tension was just perfect and didn't veer into ridiculously over cute where younger characters can go.  Drennan had lived a full life in a short time. Her approach was winner take the hot guy behind the bar! 

This was a first time read by Mae Wood and surely will not be my last. It's everything that I look for in an entertaining story. So, yes my hearts & flowers unicorn loving heart was full by the end.  I'm now a firm #fangirl and can't wait to read more from this author. 5 out 5 stars


 Free with Kindle Unlimited | 99c for a Limited Time


“I can go on and on about this book. The writing was so witty and all the food and wine references just made me want to hop on a plane and go taste some good southern food.” — After Dark Book Lovers

“…if you like Single Dads, good food, all the wine, and fitness coupled with stellar writing and extremely well-developed characters, then PLUS ONE IS THE BOOK FOR YOU. So, go ahead, one click it and enjoy.” — Y’all This Book


“Angostura bitters,” he said over his shoulder. “There was a shortage a few years a back, so I started making my own bitters.”  I trailed him around the restaurant’s kitchen, a puppy in pursuit of a treat.  

Ostensibly, I was here on a sales call, making my rounds at the downtown Memphis restaurants. Selling wine, taking orders, and moving on to the next restaurant or bar.  But when Pig and Barley popped up on my iPad for today’s call list, I couldn’t help myself. Couldn’t help but dig around in my closet.  No company-logo’ed polo shirt today.  


And leg. 

A hint of lace.

I knew what he’d order.

And knew I’d take it.

Curving his tall frame over a chopping board, another vintage concert T-shirt thin with age stretched across his powerful shoulders, he crushed a star anise with the flat blade of a knife. The meat of his left palm quickly smacking the heavy blade he held still with his right hand. And I jumped. He’d never spanked me, and I’d never wanted it.  Never wanted to play that way until now. 

“Do you like Absinthe? Or Sambuca?” he asked, the smell of soft black licorice wafting from the crushed pod. “Because I’m going for a stripped-down version with this infusion and will then play around with it to make a bitter I can use in cocktails.” 

Flipping the knife over in his palm, he used the back to scrape the crushed pod into a glass jar filled with a clear liquid.

“Vodka? Everclear?” I guessed.

“No.  Good ol’ Tennessee moonshine. Don’t ask where I got it.” 

“So many, many good things in Tennessee.”

He wiped his hands and knife on a neatly folded white towel and placed the knife to the side of the cutting board, parallel and just so.  His deliberate moves were instinctual when he sought out pleasure, whether from his food, his cocktails, or from me.

“So this is a sales call?” he asked.


“Drennan,” he said with a smile while he folded his arms across his chest, drawing out my name like I was a naughty child. The three birds on his forearm fluttered from the muscle movement, and my hand ached to touch his inked flesh. “Who else are you calling on today?”

“Flight and a few other places.”

“Tight schedule?” he asked.

“I could work you in,” I replied, taking a step toward him and walking my fingertips along the top of the shiny steel work surface, trying to be cool while the heat built inside of me.  Fighting to keep my itchy fingers to myself.

“Oh, you’ll make room.”

“Here?” I whispered, looking into his chocolate and caramel eyes.  Even though it was the two of us in the kitchen, the restaurant’s general manager was working in the broom closet of an office just a few feet away.

“Uhm, did I not hear you say hi to Patti on your way back here? And she’s interviewing a couple potential new servers,” he said, quickly flicking his wrist to glance at his heavy silver dive watch, “about now, I think.”

I ran through options, scenarios, my brain fizzing from the thought of sliding my skin against his. “Just how big is the back seat in your monster of an SUV?”

“It’s still got my bike in in from yesterday.  But hold on,” he said. 

He pulled the phone out of his back pocket and tapped on the screen. I stepped closer to him, sliding my hands to my waist and then up, pressing my breasts together.  His eyes fell on my cleavage, and his Adam’s apple worked in appreciation, his lips softening with want while his jaw tightened with need.

“Man, don’t ask any questions. Just say that I can borrow a conference room. I’ll be there in three minutes.”  One hand shoved the phone back into his jeans and the other grabbed one of mine, lacing our fingers together, and he pulled me through the kitchen and the restaurant and onto the street.

“Conference room?” I asked, my legs spinning to match his long stride and quick pace as he tugged me down the bustling sidewalk.

“Yeah, be cool, okay?”

A few blocks later he blew through a glass door into a simple lobby.  The Brannon Company shone in bold brass letters behind the receptionist desk.

“Mr. Forsythe?” asked a thin brunette from behind her big bangs.

“Jenny, right? Trip said—“

“Yes, sir.  We’ve got a conference room ready. Will anyone else be joining you?”

He’s taking me to his friend’s office to fuck?  At ten a.m. on a Monday?

“Just us,” he said, not loosening his grip on my hand.

Jenny’s eyes moved to me.  Taking me in from head to the tips of my nude heels and I felt my boldness begin to slip. I turned to Bert, to gauge his reaction.  Yeah. No shame.  His eyes fixed on the elevator bank ahead of us.  The temperature of our frantic walk over pressed beneath this cool facade. 

With a nod at me, Jenny led the way to the conference room.   Keeping up the charade that we were here on some sort of business, I sank into an overstuffed chair at the large oak table, my back to the wall of windows. I grabbed a notepad and pen from the table and began doodling.  

“If you need anything, Mr. Forsythe, please call reception and ask for me.”

“Thanks, Jenny,” he said.

“Of course. Have a good meeting,” she replied.  When the heavy door to the conference room clicked shut behind her, my laughter burst to the surface.

“You cool with this?” he asked, one eyebrow lifting in amusement, as he tugged his shirt over his head, exposing his lean body with Ganesh inked in black wrapping around his right side.

“Depends,” I answered, not looking up from my notes.  “What did you have in mind?”

“What did you have in mind when you decided to wear that to my restaurant?”

“Wear what?” I said, tilting my head and slowly blinking my big blue eyes at him.

“Come on, Dren,” he begged, the exasperation at my little game eating away at his patience.

“That,” I said, using the pen to point to the hard ridge in his jeans.  “I was planning on coming on that.”

“Were you now?” he said, the irritation vanished.

“Yes, in fact, here’s the agenda,” I said, tossing the notepad toward him where it landed on the table.  

“Are you serious?”  He blinked at me and I again looked away, enjoying playing coy for once. 

“We’ve got like ten minutes tops before Trip breaks this up.”

“Well, I suggest we move right to the action items, then,” I said, pointing at the paper.
His eyes rolled to the ceiling before he snatched up the notepad. “This is a drawing of a dick.”

“Yeah, I know. The agenda’s really meaty,” I said, examining the pen I twirled between my fingers.

“Ten. Minutes,” he repeated, a solid tap on the notepad punctuating each word.

“Do I hear a motion from the floor?  I bet they says things like that in here, don’t they?” I said, finally turning my attention to him.

“The only motion I want from you is your ass out of that chair.”

“All in favor?” I asked, scanning the empty room for a response.

“Christ,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face and rounding the table toward me. “I’m in favor. Let’s get down to business.”

The chair spun and he leaned down in front of me, his hands dipping into my hair to bracket my head. “You want my dick?” he whispered in my ear, the scruff on his face abrading my cheek.

I nodded as best I could in response, my teeth tugging on my lip as I let loose a soft whimper of need.  

My hands explored the muscles of his shoulders.  My fingernails dug in, biting flesh, and my answer to his question escaping me in a slow hiss of desire.  His belt and fly open, I leaned forward to shove his jeans and boxers over his hips, so I could get my hands on his bare ass.  I loved the way the heels of my hands fit into the indentations at his hips while my fingers grasped firm muscle. 

His hands shoved up my skirt, running his hands along the tops of my thighs with a friction that made me melt. Thumbs stroked in tandem at the hinge of my hips and I went to open for him, but was bound by the chair’s arms.  

He pressed my hips into the chair. “Patience, patience.”

“Ten minutes,” I bit out.

“He’s not going to open the door,” he replied, his warm hands sliding between my exposed ass and the chair to scoop me up and place me on the cool tabletop. “No one is. We could have this room all day. But I want you now.”

His hands returned to reach underneath my skirt, and my panties were yanked down. I could feel soft pops as his impatient fingers shredded the lace. “Sorry,” he muttered into my neck.

“Only apologize if you stop,” I replied.

“Quick pause okay? Not a stop.” He backed up, fished a condom out of his wallet and returned to me suited up. Strong and hard and proud.  I pulled my feet to rest on the table and dropped my knees open for him. Opened for all of the city of Memphis beyond the wall of windows that was behind him. 

Shameless for him. 

Ready for him. 

Needy for him.

I reached for him and, with a push, he found me.  His hands once again gripping my ass and lifting me, holding me close, as he continued to thrust from below.  “Drennan, Drennan, Drennan.”  I knew this chant, mumbled against my lips and neck.  The simple incantation of my name so filled with need and promise.  The words that reduced the world to me and him. To this moment. 

Coolness the length of my back snapped me out of the trance. “The window?”

“You want that?” he asked, nuzzling his scruff along my jaw. “I’ll put it on the agenda for our next meeting. But I don’t trust any glass for how hard I’m going to pound into you.”

Then I heard it—a door, banging on its hinges. “You’re not going to get invited back,” I said.

“Like I give a fuck. Come back to me.  Here. Now.” My fingers tugged at his hair, fusing his mouth with mine.

A deep dive and rock against my clit and I was gone again. So gone for this man.  



Mae Wood is a mommy, bookworm, and lawyer (in that order).

A while ago Mae decided that she needed to give up the fear that she couldn't write "great literature" and write what she wants to read.

And she wants romance. And laughter.

She wants heroines who are brave. Brave enough to be themselves and brave enough to fall in love.

She wants men who are strong and kind.

Mae lives in the Southeastern United States.


Sunday, August 6, 2017

Homegrown Teaser: Reader Insight to a Story

As I sit down to write this, I realize this may be a very weird journey for me to get from the start of my point to the actual point in the title of this week's blog post. However, since you all follow me, I am secretly hoping that you also can follow along my thoughts. 

Not sure how this is going to work. But, let's try shall we. 

First, some may know that I have whole other world I interact with: Graphic Novels.  How I got immersed in this world and what I do in that world would be a complete five part blog series as my life has been there longer than here in romance world.  The appeal of graphic novels is different than the romance story for me.  First, I see graphic novels as an art form. Something that I share with select friends and my family that has created a much larger but closely guarded circle. Now the reason I bring this up is the big difference between the two worlds.  With graphic storylines, it's the art, not the words, that bring the story together. To illustrate my point is one of my favorite one panel stories from Sinfest:

There are a few words and the art speaks the story. With romance novels, it's the words that are presented that have importance. So, then starts the war of the 'teaser' in my head with romance novels.

Maybe I'm the outlier. I have an overactive imagination. When I am images of the hero or heroine are presented as representative of the story, my brain sometimes balks. Remember for romance, it's the words that conjure the image not a book cover or teaser campaign.  So that makes me a fan of the subtle teaser.  Give me soft lighting, blurred, backgrounds, incomplete or no images. Allow me to 'fill in the blanks' and my overactive imagination is happy. See, I bring my own experiences, hear a different version of the song, or maybe the hero's hair color is a bit more honey than chestnut in my mind. This could also be why I'm never happy with book to movie translations. Again another blog post.  

This is what makes me seek out the 'homegrown teaser'. 

What is a homegrown teaser and why do I like them if want the words to drive the images I visualize as I read? Reader created teasers give me insight visually to what another reader saw, felt and touched by a story.  It can be a simple as a quote from the book on a plain background to an elaborate artistic rendition of what they 'saw'.  It's a visual review from another reader. We may see it differently and I can relish in those differences. These homegrown teasers give me impact on how this reader experienced the story rather than someone telling me how I should experience it.  

So, for shits and giggles, I thought I'd go through the process by walking you through one of my own homegrown that I created. Coolio... But first, a side story.  I hear you groaning, just give me a minute.

Above statement - my wide graphic novel circle involves tattoo artists. I'm happily married to a highly sought after, very expensive sketch artist.  Not all tattoo artists can draw to scale. My best friend realizes his short coming and has my husband do transfer art. For a nominal *cough* fee, they take a picture and my husband will show how placement and size of your tattoo will look on a photo editing program.  Now, since I'm married to him, I got him to do this one time teaser work for free.  YAY ME! Back to my process:

The above teaser was made for the Wicked Horse series book by Sawyer Bennett: Wicked Bond.  There are very specific tattoos on both his stomach and back described in the stories thus enters my husband to create those representations.  Along with nauseating long discussions on greyscale. Then came the body to put the tattoos on resulting in a week long search of my Shutterstock/Adobe accounts. I mean in my mind, this wasn't a muscle bound gym rat.  He's sculpted physic would come from hard work in part time ranching. He'd be lightly bronzed because men in Wyoming just don't sunbath in my mind. Then comes the quote. There are so many layers to that quote that you will only understand by reading the story.  I layered the subtle image of the context of having sex standing because he was unconventional. Then came the font color choices.  It would have been easy to pick white or blue. But I saw the story in shades of stormy blue with the hope of yellow sunshine to cast aside the issues dealt throughout.  

That is the single snapshot of what I read and my visual review of the story. 

Granted there are some very talented readers who create teasers for their blogs that will consistently amaze me.  I love those visual reviews.  Personally, I don't do many because my graphic novel brain often is at war with romance novel words.  But sometimes I will get a sudden rush of creative energy that I see visually that spews out to social media. (See my Eight by ES Carter campaign on Instagram.)  Below are my two favorites.

Yes, so now you know. I'm addicted to finding visual reviews on stories - after I've read - to see how others see them. Keep up the creative work! I'll find you.