I love every part of the writing/publishing process (most of the time), but I'd lying if I didn't say getting cover art is the most exciting bit. Seeing the "face" your story will have is just fantastically fun. So, without further ado, I give you the cover for my next release:
Jay Aheer knocks it out of the park every time! She's brought my shapeshifters to life, and I can't wait for you all to be able to read Lara, Zane, and Tate's story. Not long now - January 11th is release day! While I'm counting down to that, I'm going to be admiring my new cover.
I'm delighted to welcome back Erzabet Bishop, this time with a sexy Christmas story! This one sounds sizzling, so get yourself ready for festive fun...
Title: A Red Dress For Christmas
Line: Romance on the Go
Genre: Contemporary erotic romance/ mf
Angel in a red dressâ¦
Cecily's husband Neil has kept her waiting one too many times. After another lonely night of movie watching, she decides to take her pleasure into her own hands. Neil comes home from work and catches her being a very naughty girl. Tangled up in tinsel and wearing a smoking hot red dress, surely her holiday wish will come true.
Be Warned: BDSM, sex toys, spanking
Evernight Publishing: http://goo.gl/cGh5sg
All Romance E-books: https://goo.gl/Q4F0Bp
âWhy did you have to leave?â
Neil rubbed his hand along Cecily's ass, his finger edging between her skin and the lacy red panties from behind.
âWhy do you think?â
Neil's cock pressed against Cecily's side. His fingers continued their distracting path even as he upped the pulses on the vibrator.
âHow do you like that?â he whispered, voice husky. He untied the strings on the panties, giving him greater access to her slick folds.
âOh. My. God!â Cecily moaned into his thigh as he slid two fingers inside of her at the same time as he cranked up the power on the tiny vibrator to what felt like its highest capacity.
Neil pumped his thick fingers into her pussy relentlessly, taking Cecily close to the edge and pulling back out again. He turned off the vibe, leaving her staring down at the carpet, completely bereft.
âButâ¦ Oh, Neil!â Cecily wriggled against his lap, her erect clit pulsing between her legs and her molten core longing for release.
Neil smoothed her hair from her face and wiped a tear that slid from her eye.
âThat's how I felt looking at those pictures. I wanted to bury my cock inside of you and I couldn't. I haven't seen you much at all with this new job, let alone been able to do anything about the raging lust giving me a boner big enough to buy out the vibrator counter just so I'd have a bag big enough to walk out of the store without disgracing myself.â
âI'll make it up to you.â Cecily started to move, but Neil stilled her.
âWait. I have an idea.â Neil kissed her on the top of her head. âCome on. Let's go in the living room.â He helped her up and eased off the bed and onto his feet. The walk to the living room was quick, Neil shutting off the lights as he went.
âI want to take you here. Right in front of the tree.â
Cecily grinned, desire raging through her veins. âWhat about Lulu?â
âLook, she's on the chair asleep.â
âMmmm.â Cecily turned her gaze to the twinkling holiday lights and knelt down on the carpet.
Neil slid behind her and she heard the sound of a zipper.
âI can't wait.â
âNeither can I. Take me.â
The tip of Neil's cock teased her entrance. Suddenly he was in, thrusting balls deep. With a groan, he slid his hands down her sides. With one hand he grasped her hip, the other her clit.
âIf you don't fuck me now I'm going to die,â Cecily whispered, grinding herself against the root of him. âI need you.â
A lot of people ask me why I do short fiction. It's a fun escape into another world and it lasts long enough to break the cycle of everyday but still feel like you've read something fun and worthwhile. The Romance on the Go line is exactly that. Tight stories that explore erotic romance with flair and in this case, some tinsel and a whole lot of naughty.
Happy reading and I hope you and yours have a wonderful holiday season.
Erzabet Bishop is a bestselling and award winning author who loves to write naughty stories. She is the author of Lipstick, Dinner Date, Crave, The Science of Lust, Wicked for You, Arcane Imaginarium: Spirit Board, Holidays in Hell, Sigil Fire, Written on Skin, Club Beam, Pomegranate, A Red Dress for Christmas, The Black Magic CafÃ©, Fantasies in Red, Sweet Seductions: The Erzabet Bishop Collection, Holiday Cruise, Fetish Fair, Temptation Resorts: Jess, Temptation Resorts: Marnie, Taming the Beast, The Erotic Pagans Series: Beltane Fires, Samhain Shadows and Yuletide Temptation along with being a contributor to many anthologies. Erzabet has been a finalist in the GCLS awards for 2014 and 2015, winning the Goldie for her spot in two anthologies. She has been nominated for the 2016 Golden Flogger Award for Crave. She lives in Texas with her husband, furry children and can often be found lurking in local bookstores. She loves to bake, make naughty crochet projects and watch monster movies. When she isnât writing, she loves to review music and books.
Follow her reviews and posts on Twitter @erzabetbishop.
Newsletter and website: http://erzabetwrites.wix.com/erzabetbishop
Facebook âlikeâ page: https://www.facebook.com/erzabetbishopauthor
Amazon author page:http://www.amazon.com/Erzabet-Bishop/e/B00AVSDUBC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_7
Street team: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1018269998190112/
Review Blog: http://erzabetsenchantments.blogspot.com/
What are our favorite Christmas Treats? Books, of course! Stop by each blog for a chance to win fabulous books & gifties for the Holidays!
Merry Christmas everyone! For me, of course, books have always been the ideal Christmas present. My dad had a tradition of buying me the latest Terry Pratchett book every year, as he knew I loved the Discworld series, so I always knew I'd have at least one shiny new hardback under the tree :) This year I'm kinda hoping for Amazon vouchers - I read ebooks so much more than paper books these days, so a gift voucher is perfect for me.
For the Christmas Treats blog hop, I thought I'd give what I'd like to receive! How does a $10 gift card for Evernight Publishing sound? And as an extra stocking stuffer, I'll throw in an e-copy of my first Evernight release, my romantic suspense short story, THROUGH HER EYES.
Six years ago, Keira nearly died at the hands of a serial killer. The experience left her with more than just physical scars. She was psychically linked to the killer, a helpless witness to all his crimes. Now the man known as the Shoreditch Slasher has killed again, and Keira is dragged right back into his path. Detective Dom Abbott believes Keira's link to the killer will help the police finally catch him, even if it means putting the woman he loves in danger. With Dom to protect her, Keira is willing to risk almost anything...But where will her strange gift lead her?
To enter, just leave a comment and let me know what your favourite ever Christmas gift was. Good luck! And don't forget to visit the other blogs on the hop!
Happy Monday! My guest on this dreary winter morning is Liv Rancourt, who's here to bring some very welcome sunshine in the form of her new release, THE SECRET OF OBEDIENCE. Take it away, Liv!
The Secret of Obedience
Can a jock find love with a hot little hipster?
Opposites attract, but secrets divide.
Ronnie Durand is a country boy who transfers to the University of Washington after two years at Central. He'll have to give up playing football, though finishing his education at a major university in Seattle - and being out and proud without having to look over his shoulder - makes the sacrifice worthwhile.
But finding friends at a huge school is tough, especially when the hottest guy Ronnie meets makes him doubt his own sanity.
Sang's been on his own a long time. He's only a couple steps away from living on the street, and he's got dreams so big they don't leave space for a steady boyfriend. Then he meets Ronnie, who just might be strong enough to break through his barriers....as long as Sang lets him in on one big secret.
It's warm enough for shorts and a t-shirt, and the campus is relatively quiet except for a handful of die-hard election enthusiasts who are still passing out flyers in front of the HUB. I ignore the idiots pushing their anti-gay marriage agenda, and sidestep the fans of Senator Whozit. My freakishly liberal mother married a small town Republican, so I grew up taking the fifth on political stuff, more of an agnostic than an actual atheist. I pretty much can't open my mouth without being accused of siding with one of them, so I keep it shut.
But I do grab a pamphlet explaining why marijuana should be legal, because duh.
The Ave is busier than the campus, mostly with college kids wandering through the pizza places to the used book stores to the faded pubs. A steady stream of cars rolls past, blunting the crisp fall air with exhaust. I'm about to duck into the College Inn Pub when Sang comes around the corner of 40th St.
Surprise hits me harder than the coffee I had for breakfast, fading to a rock-hard blast of desire. His long hair is twisted into a bun and secured with a pair of glossy black sticks. His faded gray tunic hits him about mid-thigh, his legs are bare, and he's wearing a beat-up pair of Dr. Martens and a long feathered earring. Maybe I’m weird, but I want him in all his freaky, funky beauty.
I cross my arms and wait. There's no place for him to go except right past me. Across the street, someone bursts out cursing and a driver lays on their car's horn. I glance over. No blood. I glance back. No Sang. Dammit. There's only one store between me and where I saw him last, and it's one of those one-off Asian places where the window's crowded with candies and porcelain bowls and small brass Buddhas. Nowhere else he could have gone, so I push through the door.
The light is much dimmer than outside, and it takes me a minute to adjust. I catch a flash of white in the corner, Sang's feather. He's contemplating a display of colored packages, but all the labels are in some other language, so I don't know what they are. I walk up behind him, close enough to pick up his unique scent through the store's incense and sesame oil smell.
"Don't crowd me, Sugar Cookie." He doesn't turn around.
Right. I take another step, close enough for the hem of his skirt to brush against my shorts.
He spins around and puts his hand on my chest. "What are you doing?" He sounds indignant, but his eyes are laughing.
And his smile strips me bare.
"I was thinking about grabbing a beer next door." I flick the feather with my index finger. "Wanna join me?"
His smile softens, and he tugs my hand away from his earring, lacing our fingers together. "I'm sorry, baby. I can't. I'm working today."
"What are you doing? Do you live down here?" So many questions. Finding him on The Ave pretty much convinces me his "I don't go to UW" line is bullshit.
He brushes my knuckles against his cheek. "I wish I had time to play." He spins back around. "I'm just grabbing something quick for lunch."
Frustration forces me back a little. "Okay well, maybe I should grab something, too. The Husky game starts in about an hour."
"Are you going to watch the Seahawks tomorrow?" He slides a glance over his shoulder and flicks his fingers so I can see his team-colors manicure.
I almost say “only if you'll watch it with me”, but I don't want to get shot down again. "Yeah, if I get my homework done."
"Good. They're playing Denver, you know, and I hate the Broncos."
Talking football with my favorite freak surrounded by a store full of Made In China is a little surreal. My head's pretty spun when he grabs a bag off the rack and shoves it at me.
"Here," he says, grinning so hard he's almost giving himself a dimple. "You need some of this."
The bag is full of little brown balls about the size of peas. "What is it?"
"Bap chien gion. Like corn nuts."
He's still digging through the racks, flipping from package to package. "This one, too." He tosses something back at me.
I do my best to read the label. "Moot dow tai."
"Mut dau tay." He echoes me, but the words sound nothing like mine.
"Is this Chinese or something?"
He gives me an exasperated look over his shoulder and twitches his ass so it bumps against my thighs. "Vietnamese, Cookie."
I feel sorta stupid. I've never met anyone from Vietnam before. Still holding the last package he's handed me, I ask "What are these red things?"
"Strawberry candy. I love them."
Might be a weird combination with the beer I'd been planning to drink during the Husky game, but I don't want to offend him a second time. If I even offended him the first time. It's hard to tell. His energy is as changeable as a river when there are clouds overhead, sometimes sparkling but other times dark as pitch.
"This one's good, too. Hat sen sey kho. Fried lotus seeds." He spins, hands it to me, too close, making it hard for me to breathe. He grabs a couple more for himself and steps up until he's pressed against me. "Come on, Cookie. Get out of the way so I can pay for this." He snuggles his nose against my chest, humming so I can feel the vibration in my sternum.
"I gotta get back to work." His body and his mouth are saying such completely different things that I can't move, don't know how to respond. After a moment he sighs and steps around me. "If I go out tonight, it won't be until very late. I have to work."
Hope and disappointment have an MMA bout in my gut. "Don't know if I'll go out at all."
"Maybe I'll see you next week some time, then."
Hope gets the upper hand. “Will you?”
“What?” His feather flutters in a sudden breeze.
“See me next week?”
“If you get very, very lucky.” He slides some cash to the shriveled old woman behind the register. She speaks to him in Vietnamese, and he laughs and answers back. Then he's gone, but when I go to pay for the snacks he's chosen for me, I find out he already did.
I have a problem with the word "should." It creates an instant sense of onerous duty and dread. I should do the laundry, I should clean out my wardrobe, I should find out why my office floor is shaking and if it's something to worry about...Or it creates an immediate unfulfilled promise, a litany of things you don't really want to do but find yourself suggesting to someone anyway. We should meet up soon. We should invite so-and-so round. Basically whenever I hear myself using the word "should," it's in the context of a chore I really don't want to do or an obligation I really don't want to fulfill. Sorry, friends. I really am that introverted.
One of my aims for this year was to stop using the word "should" when it came to my writing. I used to make myself lists of projects, with the sense that this was what I should be working on, for whatever reason. I should write this sequel, I should finish this short story...I thought it was a way of keeping myself on track, but it never worked like that, because I'd look at the list, think ugh, no, and do something else. Or nothing else, because I'd feel bad about not sticking to my self-imposed shoulds and just freeze up entirely. If I wasn't sticking to that list of projects, I was failing, because I wasn't doing what I should.
And this year I thought, well, fuck that, I'll do what I want.
Here's the thing: I don't believe in "the Muse." There's no abstract concept bringing me story ideas the way my cat brings me hairballs. There's no mythical being I have to appease by writing a certain story at a certain time. But sometimes I do find myself stalling on things for no apparent reason. I've stalled on Wolf's Hunt over the past couple of weeks, mostly because I'm tired and a bit ill. I know how the story unfolds, but every time I open the file to get to work, my brain just goes "nah." A year or so ago, I'd end up frustrated and simply stop writing altogether, as if this was somehow better than just working on something other than my designated to-do list.
But I like to think I've learned a few things about myself since then. Rather than succumb to that feeling that I'm failing at Wolf's Hunt somehow, I've switched projects to a little paranormal romp featuring shapeshifters and two reunited lovers (who hate each other a little bit right now).
Changing genres is often a good way for me to keep the creative gears moving, and it means I'm not beating myself up over not working on what I should be working on. I have to remember that it's okay to move the goalposts - the end game is still the same. Keep writing. Keep creating.
Winter is in fact coming. November is over, and that means Anti-Nano is over too! Overall, although I didn't get as much done on Wolf's Hunt as I hoped, I made good progress, adding 10k to the story in total. I think the final first draft is going to be closer to 50k than 40k now, so there's still a way to go, but I think I can wrap it up before the end of December. And I'm having fun and paving the way for future Wild Blood stories - in fact, I think I figured out today who's book is next...
I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'll have news to share soon on WAKING THE LIONESS, too. In the mean time, please enjoy this winter-themed AFI song to welcome you to December!
Welcome to the virtual home of Amber Morgan - writer of contemporary romance, MC romance, and paranormal romance. Cat-keeper, snake-charmer. Chaotic good.