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Monday is Muse Day!

6/25/2018

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Happy Monday, folks! Hope your weekends were wonderful! And if they were, and you're now struggling with the Monday blues, don't worry! Nicola Cameron can help. TO MY MUSE is exactly the pick-me-up you need. And hell, if you don't need a pick-me-up, you should check it out anyway because Nicola Cameron is great! Don't believe me? Check out the book and the story behind it!
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​Hello, and thanks so much for having To My Muse on your blog today. If I’m being honest with everyone, the tagline for this book should be, “Loosely based on a kind of true story!”
 
Back in March 2017, I pinged the extremely talented, kind, and tolerant actor Louis Herthum on Twitter and told him that he’d helped to inspire my new dystopian SF romance novel Degree of Resistance with his performance in Westworld. This resulted in a brief but lovely chat, at the end of which I asked if he’d like a print copy of Degree. To my delight, he said yes and told me where to send the book. The next day I signed a spandy new copy to him, packaged it up, and mailed it off, happy as a clam.
 
Six hours later, I had a nervous breakdown.
 
See, since I write romance novels that tend towards the explicit side of things, sex scenes don’t shock me. They’re just another part of the plot, and not even the most interesting part a lot of the time. But I forget that civilians don’t always share that view, and I had just sent a perfectly nice stranger a book that had some rather hot (well, no—extremely hot) scenes in it. Worse, I’d told him that he had inspired the plot. I was belatedly but absolutely convinced that he would put two and two together and come up with, “Note to self—make sure this pervert never comes within 50 yards of me.”
 
Panicking, I called my friend T. As she tried to talk me down, pointing out that 1) Lou’s a guy, so it was highly unlikely that 2) he would read a romance novel, even one with heavy SF themes, and 3) would probably just stick it on a shelf as a nice piece of egoboo, I was busy coming up with an insane plan—I would fly to LA, break into his agent’s office, steal back the book, and nobody would be the wiser. Brilliant! It would work!
 
Why, yes, I’m a little neurotic when it comes to my writing, why do you ask?
 
Needless to say, I was talked out of this. But after I calmed down I did have to admit that it was a hell of a funny idea. And when I decided to try writing a contemporary romantic comedy, it popped back into my head and waved its little hands, saying, “Me! Use me!” Seeing as I’d already lost some of my sanity and a largish patch of stomach lining on the concept, I figured why not. To My Muse is the result.
 
By the way, this book? No sex. Lots of comedy and banter between my leads, but no sex. Yes, I’m shocked as well. But boy, it was a ball to write.
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Contemporary Romance, Romantic Comedy, MF
Word Count: 67,000
Heat Level 2
Published by Belaurient Press
ISBN: 978-0-46-328424-7
 
BLURB:
 
Ever do something really, really dumb?
 
When too much tequila and an enabling BFF put Lily Nayar's romance novel Feast of Lovers into the hands of its inspiration, sexy British actor Tom Morrison, Lily is horrified. Now she's determined to get her book back, even if that means breaking into Tom's hotel room to do it.
 
With the help of a strategic lie and a charismatic knight, Lily's screwball plan catapults her into the middle of her very own Cinderella story, Hollywood style. But will a vengeful actress ruin Lily's shot at a real life HEA with Tom?
​

BUY LINKS:
 
Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes
 
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​EXCERPT
 
Giving Theresa a thumbs up, I closed the door and turned my attention to the hotel room. It had already been cleaned and the bed was neatly made. A suitcase sat on the valet stand next to the TV, and the dresser and desk held various pieces of paper, notes, and a couple of plastic shopping bags, all the usual stuff when you’re stuck in a hotel room for a couple of weeks.
 
Of course, the fangirl part of my brain was screeching like a gibbon at me that I was in Tom Morrison’s hotel room. He’d slept in that very bed last night. Sat at that desk to check his email and Facebook. Took a dump behind the closed door of what I assumed was the bathroom. The prosaic nature of that last bit helped me regain some self-control, and I tiptoed (why, I don’t know, I’m an idiot) over to the desk. There was what looked like a script for GearShifter on it, as well as a MacBook Pro, but no Feast of Lovers. Bad Tom, no leaving your expensive computer equipment out where people can steal it.
 
I wanted to leaf through the script so badly, but I ignored it and kept looking for Feast. Not on the desk top, not on the dresser, not on the TV. I was starting to worry that he’d taken it with him to the location when I noticed the suitcase. I truly, honestly hated the idea of going through his personal stuff, but he might have stuck it in there. I could just lift the lid, take a peek, maybe it was in plain sight--
 
I had the lid in hand when the bathroom door swung open and a tall, beautiful blonde in a towel strutted out. “I thought I heard you—” she purred, before she saw me. Both face and tone iced over. “Who the hell are you?”
 
I let out a noise that could have been used as a sound effect for a creaking vault door. The blonde stalked closer, looming over me. Up close, I could see some fine lines around her eyes, but she was still ridiculously gorgeous. “What are you doing here?” she snapped.
 
Oh. Oh, shit. My brain informed me that I was currently sharing a room with Claudine Ellery, the actress playing Tom’s antagonist/love interest on the show. What the hell was she doing in his bathroom? Were they dating in real life? Why was I asking stupid questions when I should be turning and running for my freaking life?
 
And then Fate decided that she needed an even bigger chuckle because the room door opened and Tom Morrison walked in. I caught a glimpse of an apologetic Theresa hovering in the hallway before she was eclipsed by Tom, who was staring at Claudine and me.
 
Oh, God. He was even better looking in person. Not all actors are, but Tom—he was edible. Curly black hair, eyes the color of dark chocolate, and lips that I’d wanted to kiss since the first time I saw him on screen. With faded jeans that fit him perfectly, a dusty white button-down with rolled up sleeves, just the right amount of chest hair peeping out of his collar, and the cutest smudge of dust across one laser-sharp cheekbone, he was every one of my fantasies come to warm, tall life right in front of me.
 
And I had broken into his hotel room.
 
That was it. I was going to jail, assuming that the cops didn’t just see “brown person” and shoot me when they got here. At the very least I’d get fired from Golden State. Mom and Dad would disown me, Dada and Dadi would die of shame, and Derek would probably take out an ad in the LA Times saying that I was adopted. My only hope was that Theresa had gotten the hell out of here. There was no reason for both of us to go down for my stupidity--
 
“Lilian, darling, what are you doing here?”
 
My brain skidded to a halt. Words had come out of Tom Morrison’s mouth. Friendly words. While he was staring directly at me. Looking, if I may say so, as if he was talking to someone he knew. Which he didn’t, because I may not have remembered sending him my book but I would definitely remember meeting him.
 
“Um. Hi?” I waved weakly.
 
“I thought you decided not to come out this weekend.” He crossed to me, slipping an arm around my shoulders as he stared at Claudine. He squeezed my shoulder once, kind of hard, then did it again.
 
Even with my brain in fangirl vapor lock I can take a hint. I had no idea how he knew who I was, but he wanted me to play along. Plastering a grin on my face, I slipped my arm around his waist and squeezed back. His torso felt like warm rock, and he smelled so good.
 
“Well, I figured I needed a road trip,” I extemporized, giving him a bright smile. “And I didn’t think you’d mind.”
 
“Not at all, angel,” he purred. Up close, I could see a hint of relief in his eyes. It disappeared as he turned to Claudine. “Claud, why are you in my room wearing a towel?” he asked politely.
 
She planted hands on slim hips, cocking her head to the side. “Seriously? You have to ask why?”
 
“Yes, because if I remember correctly, I told you that I had no interest in going to bed with you. In fact, I’m quite sure I informed you of this on numerous occasions. And when I walk into my hotel room and see you wearing nothing but terrycloth while my girlfriend,” this time his squeeze was gentle, “is standing there looking gobsmacked, I have to wonder what the actual fuck you’re up to.”
 
My face went rigid as it tried to hold onto my smile. Girlfriend? Eeeeeeeee…
 
BIO
 
Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of "y'all," much to her Chicago family's dismay.
 
Despite a healthy interest in romance and sex since puberty, it wasn't until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to speculative romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture...).
 
Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads
​
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LM Spangler is tempting us to Return To Me...

6/13/2018

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Happy Hump Day! Hope everyone's week is going well. For me personally, today is a little oasis of calm amidst the frenzy of planning our move to the Netherlands. We've packed as much as we can, cleaned the house as much as is possible without just burning it down and rebuilding it, and I've handed in my notice at my day job. AHHHH! It's definitely time to step back and relax. And of course I have a book for just that!
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Her secret tore them apart.

Naida Bouche foolishly thought she could live as if she was only human. Her true nature hung over her like a thunderhead, driving a wedge between her and her husband.

Cooper Martin had no idea why his ex-wife divorced him. He'd treated her like a goddess. And they had no problems in the intimacy department.
​

Fate brings them together again. Old emotions flare to life. Can Naida see beyond her self-perceived faults and allow the flames to reignite the love she and Coop feel for one another?

Buy it now!

Evernight
Amazon US
Amazon UK
https://www.books2read.com/ap/nlvm5x/LM-Spangler

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EXCERPT:
Water cascaded off her nude body. Small rivulets ran over her breasts and down her slightly rounded stomach, disappearing into the surface of the lake.

She was one with the water.

She could, literally, become one with it.

Moonlight reflected off the mirror-smooth surface, adding a soft glow to the night.

Crickets serenaded her with their chirping song. The cicadas added their buzzing to the symphony. There were a lot of cicadas, hence the name of the lake. A wolf howled in the distance. Nature cocooned her.

She grinned and dove under. Liquid embraced her, still heated by the sun’s rays from earlier in the day. Her body became insubstantial, fragmenting into molecules of H2O. Disorientation left her bewildered, but the feeling came and went. Weightless warmth enveloped her, and the ebb and flow of the tide lulled her into blissful relaxation.

The moon slid across the sky. Hours had passed. Her body became corporeal with a single thought. After regaining her human form, she cut through the water with powerful strokes and rose to the surface in a rush of bubbles.

The night air chilled her damp skin, raising goose pimples along her flesh. She pushed the long fall of hair from her face and glanced into the deep, lush woods that ringed the lake. Soon the leaves would change to shades of gold, orange, red, and brown. In would come the autumnal chill. Her time in the waters would decrease, and then winter would set in and freeze her out.

When that happened, she’d resort to the swimming pool located on the basement level of her large home. Even with the greenery she had sprinkled about, it never fully replaced the exhilaration of the lake, the feel of fresh air against her skin, and the scent of the wilderness.

She repeated the cycle, year after year. The monotony had long since worn short on her nerves.

She had someone in her life, someone to break the monotony.

More accurately, she would only have him until the end of the day.

Tonight would be the last night they would be together. She’d tell him that they were over and done with. The sad part of the whole shitty deal was she couldn’t really give him a reason why.

How could he understand? Hell, she’d have trouble believing the truth, if it wasn’t her life.

The root of their problems were otherworldly, as her father was human and her mother was a water nymph.

The nymph side of her heritage presented two problems. First, she needed daily contact with water. The more the better. Like her pool in the basement. Second, she also needed sex … a lot. Preferably once or twice a day. After all, the term “nymphomaniac” had been born of a nymph’s sex drive.

They had a lot of sex, but there were times when their hectic lives interfered with his libido. He was human and his sex drive was human.

She couldn’t guess how he’d react if she said, “I’m a nympho which means we have to have sex all the time. Day and night. Over and over and over.”

He wouldn’t understand it and she’d allowed it to build a wall between them.

No, he had never known the truth of her desires.

She had pushed him away, afraid of exposing her real self.
​
And that fear, that uncertainty, would leave her alone … and needy.
​

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Author Bio:
LM Spangler lives in South Central Pennsylvania with her husband, daughter, three dogs, a cat, a rabbit, and some fish. Her son serves his country in the US Navy.

She is a fan of college football and any kind of baseball and likes to watch the Discovery, Velocity, HGTV, DIY, Science, and any channel showing a college football game. She also watches old game shows like $25,000 Pyramid and Match Game.

Social Media:
Website- www.authorlmspanglerwrites.wordpress.com
Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/authorlmspangler
Twitter: https://twitter.com/authlmspangler
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorlmspangler/
Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/+LMSpangler
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Happy Friday!

6/1/2018

1 Comment

 
The weekend is on the horizon, folks! I don't know about you, but I'm ready for it. I'm planning to work on A Dark Gift as much as possible as I really want it done and submitted before the end of June. Around that though, I'll be reading of course! And if you're after a new book so you can do the same, say hi to Gale Stanley!
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Odd Man Out (Watchdogs 3) by Gale Stanley #MMM #Shapeshifters
 
Ray and Jared were living the perfect life until Ray discovered his ability to shift. Now he dreams of his wolf every night, and lives in fear of the beast.
 
Remus is the only man who can help Ray control his inner wolf. But if they connect will Jared become the odd man out? 
​
Buy Links:
 
Changeling Press
https://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2716
 
Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/Odd-Man-Out-Watchdogs-3-ebook/dp/B07CXZSDCX/
 
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​EXCERPT
 
“Wake the fuck up! Come on, Ray, wake up.”
 
Jared gripped Ray’s upper arms and shook him again. No response. Nobody sleeps that soundly. For Christ’s sake, he looked catatonic, like the woman in The Fall of the House of Usher, who’s pronounced dead and then buried alive. Now Jared was scared. He considered throwing cold water on him, maybe calling for an ambulance. He shook Ray again.
  
Slowly, Ray opened his right eye. An explosion in Afghanistan took his left eye years ago.
 
“Jared?” Ray mumbled.
 
“Yeah, Jared. Were you expecting someone else?”
 
Ray looked around the room. He seemed confused.
 
“Snap out of it, man. I couldn’t wake you.”
 
“I'm awake. I’m awake.” Ray stretched. He looked like he wanted to go back to sleep.”
 
“You scared the hell out of me.”
 
“Sorry. I must have been dreaming.”
 
“Must have been some dream. There’s a wet spot on the bed.”
 
Ray checked the sheets. He looked surprised. “Sorry.”
 
“Forget it, Sexy.” Jared climbed into bed with him. “Tell me all the dirty details. I want to get off too.”
 
“You know I never remember my dreams.” Ray rolled out of bed. “I better change the sheets.”
 
Jared made a grab for him. “Later.”
 
Ray evaded him. “Look at the time, Jared.”
 
“You used to call me Baby?” Jared spoke more harshly than he intended.
 
“Fuck the sheets, and the time. We own the company. Let’s go in late. Better yet, let’s take the day off.”
 
“We can’t afford to close shop, even for one day. Too many P.I.’s in Jersey. The completion is killing us. ”
 
“We’re the new guys in town. All we need is a big profile case and the clients will be knocking our door down.”
 
“I hope so.” Ray headed toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower.”
 
“Come back, I’ll give you a tongue bath instead.”
 
The bathroom door slammed behind Ray. Worried, Jared lay back with his arms under his head. Ray never wanted to fuck anymore. He always had an excuse. I’m too tired. It’s late. I’m drunk. I have a headache.
 
The sex had been dwindling for months. Six months to be exact. Ever since Remus showed up and screwed up their lives. If he was just another man Jared could handle the competition, but Remus was larger than life, a superhero who’d come from Ray’s past to claim him. 
​
Author Bio and Links
 
Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.

Some things never change.
 
Website | Blog | Twitter | FaceBook | Instagram | Pinterest
 
Happy Reading!
 
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1 Comment
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    Welcome to the virtual home of Amber Morgan - writer of contemporary romance, MC romance, and paranormal romance. Cat-keeper, snake-charmer. Chaotic good.
    ​

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