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"Though each path is different, there is only one way."

12/20/2016

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Moroccan Proverb

So we arrived back from Marrakech last Monday and were immediately thrown head-first into crazy work schedules, broken boiler sagas, and the terrible realisation that it's almost Christmas and we hadn't done any present shopping yet. I also had my latest Naomi Clark story, THROWN TO THE WOLVES released, and running around (online, not physically) organising promo for that took up a big chunk of time. All of which meant, I haven't had time to talk about Marrakech yet.
And I really want to talk about it! We had an amazing time! We rode camels at sunset! I feed many, many cats. We saw beautiful palaces and ate street food on the Night Market, and Kyle was harassed non-stop because of his beard, but in a nice way. It was simply an incredible experience. I feel so lucky to have been on two such different holidays this year. Iceland was an unforgettable place to visit for it's raw, rugged landscape, and Morocco was unforgettable for it's opulent beauty. I took a zillion photos, but I'll spare you the whole zillion. I've tried to pick a few of my favourites instead, just to show you the variety we found in Marrakech and beyond.
The view from our riad - the Atlas Mountains
Mountain creek running through Imlil, where we stayed
Inside the Bahia Palace
Courtyard garden inside the Bahia Palace
Grafittied bamboo at the Majorelle Gardens
Aisha, my valiant desert steed
Some of the many, many street cats we found
Lamps on the Night Market
Inside Medersa Ben Youssef, a theological school
Another example of the stunning architecture in Medersa Ben Youssef
One of the many, many pots of mint tea we consumed
Inside the Museum of Marrakech
Sunset from camel-back
Saadian Tombs

Gardens of the Saadian Tombs
On the souks

Twilight on the souks

Sunset over the Night Market

Delicious lemon-chicken tagine. Not pictured: the cat I shared it with
I'm really just scratching the surface here of the beautiful places we visited. I'm working on uploading all my photos to Pinterest if you're interested in seeing more, but in between boilers/work/Christmas it might take a while!
And of course, there's writing to get back to. I haven't touched any of my WIPs since before we went away - there just hasn't been time yet. But this is my last week at work for the year, and I'm looking forward to a week off over Christmas to catch up and make some solid progress on my to-do list. It's good to go away. It's also good to come home and share the memories. Hope you've enjoyed seeing some of them!


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Fancy Some Christmas Kink?

12/19/2016

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Well, Doris O'Connor is here to help! I'm always happy to welcome Doris to the blog, and this time she's bringing a steamy seasonal story. So let's find out what it's all about!
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Thank you so much for having me on your blog today with my new release. Christmas with his Best Friend.
This was one of those stories that practically wrote itself, once I started writing. I love the friends to lovers trope, myself, and I knew I would have to expand on the flash I wrote on my blog. This one to be precise.

Just imagine walking in on your best friend pleasuring himself to a picture of you? What would you do?

Emma has a whole set of conflicting emotions to deal with when this happens to her. Not least because she has been secretively fantasising about her best friend too.

Dare they take that leap into the unknown?

You'll have to read the book to find out.

*smiles*


They’ve been friends for twenty years until … this Christmas.

How do you tell a sweet, naïve, and clearly vanilla girl that you like to tie women up and torture them for mutual enjoyment in your spare time? Josh Mackenzie has no idea, but when his best friend Emma walks in on him pleasuring himself, everything changes.

For Emma, coming face to face with her secret longings is mind-blowing. It’s one thing to fantasize about your best friend, but dare she take that leap into the unknown? Will it not ruin their friendship, and is—what would undoubtedly be awesome—sex worth risking that?

While Josh shares her fears, she is all he’s ever wanted in a woman, and he’s determined to show her that they can have it all. This woman is his to mark, cherish, and love forever, and he’ll prove it to her, one spank at a time.

Be Warned: BDSM, spanking


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Christmas with his Best Friend released December 7th and is available from 


Evernight Publishing Amazon  Amazon UK  ARe   Bookstrand



Ready for a hawt excerpt?

Now that the moment was here Josh was lost for words. With his sweet little Em in his arms, her hazel eyes looking up him with so much trust … fuck it. What was he doing here? Instead of answering her, he pulled away, slid his hands in her hair and tucked at the pins holding it up. The dark blonde mass of silky curls fell in soft waves around her face, and he twirled one strand around his index finger.

“Josh? What are we doing here?” Her whispered question shot straight to his cock, and not trusting his voice to fucking work, he decided to show her instead. A soft gasp escaped her when he picked her up, set her on the kitchen counter, and pulling her legs apart stepped right between them. The action made her pencil skirt ride up, exposing the top of her stockings, and Josh groaned under his breath. He let his digits linger, half expecting her to slap them away, but when she opened her legs wider, he tore his gaze away from her pale flesh to check out her expression. Head down, she seemed mesmerized by the sight of his tanned hands against her skin, and the sweet scent of aroused woman filled his nostrils when he ran his hands slowly up her inner thighs. He could almost feel the heat of her cunt before her whisper stopped him.

“Josh?”

Leaving one of his hands where it was, he tipped her chin up with his index finger, satisfied beyond relief to see the same need he felt reflected back at him in her eyes. The hazel orbs had darkened to almost black, and when she licked her lips in a nervous gesture, his gaze followed the movements of her little pink tongue. Visions of her on her knees, with that sweet mouth wrapped around his dick, as he shot his jizz down her slender throat, made his cock jerk against the zipper of his jeans. He growled low in his throat at the thought of marking her thus, and her expressive eyes widened. Her breathing sped up even more, making her tits strain against the sensible blouse she wore for work. With the two top buttons undone, the third was threatening to give way under the rapid movement, giving him tantalizing glimpses of the soft swell of her breasts. Josh couldn’t help it. His self-control and good intentions went out of the window at her untutored responses to him, and he trailed his finger lower down the soft skin of her neck, over her collarbone and lower still, until he reached that tiny ivory button.
 

“I want you, little one.”


His voice dropped to the one he used in a scene without any conscious effort on his part, and when he flicked that button open, Emma’s sweet moan of surrender was music to his ears. Watching her closely for her reaction, he flicked the next button and so forth, until the sides of her blouse fell open, exposing her amazing rack. The lacy, mauve bra left little to the imagination. Josh continued his one fingered exploration, and they both groaned when he circled her nipples. Clearly visible through the lace, the little pink nubs hardened under his gentle ministrations, and Em’s breathing kicked up another notch.


“Please, I…”


Josh trailed his finger lower, over the soft swell of her abdomen, which caused her to suck in her belly, and he smiled at her action.


“Have I ever told you how much I love your curves, little one?”


Her surprised jerk and strangled half laugh told him he hadn’t, and Josh inwardly kicked himself.


“Since when? You
 have seen your girlfriends, right?”

There was a wealth of bitterness in those few words compounded by her hasty grab for her blouse. She pulled the ends closed and wrapped her arms around herself in a defensive move that tore at his heartstrings. The Dom in him wanted to order her to strip, to take her over his knee and paddle that luscious ass of hers for disrespecting her body shape like that, and making assumptions about him to boot, but he hadn’t earned that right yet.


So, instead of acting on that impulse, which pushed adrenaline through his veins, he did the next best thing. Stepped away, crossed his own arms over his chest and gave her his best
 don’t-talk-such-crap-subbie stare.

It didn’t take long before she caved in. Uncertainty crossed her features, followed by confusion, and when she dropped her gaze to his chest, he finally spoke.


“Let’s get one thing straight here, my sweet little Em, I do, indeed love your curves. In fact seeing you waltz out of here in those damn tight pencil skirts you wear for work has me so fucking hard I have to jerk off the minute you leave.”


Clearly startled by that revelation, Emma jerked her head up, opened her mouth to say something, but one look at his expression seemed to change her mind. The Dom in him almost roared when she dropped her gaze—to his chin this time—and kept it there. His girl was a natural, responding to him without even realizing what she was doing, and wasn’t that the biggest turn-on yet.


“Next, I don’t do girlfriends.” That brought her head up again, albeit briefly, and he smiled at her sharp intake of breath, and the confusion written all over her face. “I haven’t done for a long time, ever since I realized I was in love with my best friend.”


About Doris
Doris is a writer of sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get.  From contemporary to paranormal, Time Travel, Sci-fi, BDSM, F/F, M/M, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

Happily married for the last twenty-five years, she lives with her husband and their brood of nine in a far too small house filled with love, laughter, and chaos. 

Stalk her in these places  

        Website Reader Group Tumblr Twitter Facebook Pinterest Evernight Publishing

Amazon All Romance E-Books BookStrand Barnes&Noble



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"There is only one success - to be able to spend your life in your own way."

12/5/2016

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That, my dears, is a very verbose way of saying that WOLF'S HUNT was the runner-up for best MC Romance in the Evernight Readers' Choice Awards and that I am a very happy bunny! And I guess that was a very verbose way of saying it too, but eh. I am still pretty much in shock. Evernight publishes some amazing MC romances, written by some huge names, and here's little old me getting the silver medal over all that talent!
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Not only that, but BAD ALPHA won best anthology, leaving me in shock all over again! I've said before, plenty of times, that one of my main reasons for writing under a pen name was to try new genres. I absolutely adore writing MC romances and to have my stories ranked up there amongst the best of the year is a real honour. So thank you so much for voting! And if you haven't read WOLF'S HUNT yet, here's a teaser to whet your appetite...
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Wolf wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from the Mockingbird. A shithole, really. He figured anything that had Shango’s fingers in it would be rough, greasy, and nasty. He hated the idea of Clea being in a place like that, leered at and pawed over by scumbag drunks. So it was almost a pleasant surprise when Grim took him to a sleek, fancy restaurant and bar that was a million miles from the dive he’d been anticipating. The wooden front was painted a deep, almost bloody shade of red, the restaurant’s name in burnished gold over the door. Magnolia and wisteria trailed down between the high arched windows, and the blend of soft jazz music and exotic spices wafting through the open door was an irresistible invitation.

It was, he realized almost reluctantly, the kinda place he used to go with Clea when they were dating. Quintessentially her. Hell, she was probably happy here. Shit.

It was nine o’clock and people were queuing to get in, as they were at every bar or club up and down the street. A mountain of a man stood guard at the door. Wolf got a glimpse of an MC patch on his shirt as he and Grim entered. A grinning skull, smoke pouring from its empty eye sockets. Voodoo Kin. Made good sense to have your crew working your business, but it put his back up all the same.

Inside, soft lighting glowed on photos of the city and its celebrity residents. He recognized Louis Armstrong and Fats Domino, but jazz had never been his thing. Clea always teased him about it, calling him uncultured and turning her nose up at his preference for metal and thrash. The place was buzzing, the atmosphere lively and happy, and Wolf hated it. He wanted it to be a pit. He wanted proof of the kinda man Shango was to be painted on the walls. Human trash like him didn’t deserve success like this.

“C’mon, man,” Grim said, nodding toward the bar. “Let’s get you some Dutch courage, huh?”

“I don’t need it,” Wolf said, following Grim anyway. He looked around for Clea as they elbowed their way through the packed bar area, but there was no sign of her. The stage at the back of the restaurant was empty, but a mic stand and piano were in place, spotlights shining on the instruments, promising a show.

Grim bought them a couple of beers, but Wolf simply held onto his, not wanting to drink. The cold bottle felt good in his hands, pushing back some of the body heat generated by the other customers milling around. Even with the air conditioning on though, it was a sticky-hot night. Kinda night he used to love. He and Clea would run around New Orleans from dusk til dawn, drinking, laughing, then fall into his apartment as the sun came up. They’d fuck like they’d never get enough of each other, then he’d run out for coffee and beignets, and they’d eat and then fuck all over again.

“Don’t get misty-eyed,” Grim said, making him jump. “You’ll miss the show.”

“I wasn’t,” Wolf lied. He considered, then took one quick swig of beer. At the far end of the room, the stage lights brightened up, attracting everyone’s attention, then dropped low again to bathe the stage in a dreamy golden glow. Wolf felt his adrenaline spike, his body practically vibrating with it. It was the same feeling he got before every fight, a drumming in his blood that he always welcomed.

Cheers popped around the room as Clea swept through the velvet curtains at the back of the stage. That surge of adrenaline pumped harder, urging Wolf to rush down the room and grab her. He could only stare though. And she was well worth staring at.

Her gold dress looked painted on, clinging lovingly to every lush curve. The color did incredible things for her dark skin and bouncy curls, transforming her into a fiery, shimmering creature, too beautiful for mere men to even look at, let alone touch. The dress touched the floor at the back, but skimmed her knees at the front, showing off perfect legs that Wolf had wrapped around his neck too many times to count. She’d wrapped a chunky gold and red necklace around her throat, an Aztec-style statement piece that he recognized with a jolt. He’d given it to her for Christmas one year, the last Christmas before he fucked everything up. She loved that kind of shit, big and bold and sunny.
​
She’d kept it. She’d kept his gift. Wolf allowed himself the smallest flicker of hope.
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"There are no foreign lands. It is the traveller only who is foreign."

12/2/2016

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Robert Louis Stevenson

So another Friday is upon us! November, and thus Anti-Nano, is over and December is here, bringing me a broken boiler (bad) and a holiday to Morocco (good). Hopefully the boiler will be fixed before we go away next week. Otherwise, barring the odd crucial piece of office work that I actually can't do without either driving myself mad or killing someone else, we're all set to go. If I survive, next Wednesday, we'll be off enjoying these gorgeous views:
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And hopefully I won't be attacked by a monkey! I can't wait. I know it's not been that long since I was on holiday in Iceland, but I think I've definitely earned this one (today I've certainly already earned a holiday and I've only been at work about an hour). And of course, it'll be Kyle's birthday while we're away and this just seems like a spectacular place to celebrate.

In the meantime, I've completed the first and second round edits for my next Naomi Clark release and am hoping to hear about a release date and cover art soon (hopefully before we go away!). Work on Keys to the Kingdom is coming along slowly, but nicely. I've paused to do some research on gang crime in London through the ages, which is turning out to be fascinating in a kinda horrible way. It should really inform the hero of the story though, and hopefully help me build a solid, belieable world around my characters.

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So now it's just a question of not killing anyone (metaphorically) and hanging in there until next week. The weekend promises to be a whirlwind of house work and teaching my younger brother how to look after Ket, and Monday and Tuesday will be mad, but then...but then...Escape!
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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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