tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19893457925054676662024-03-05T10:01:44.417-08:00Melanie Harlow Writes...until it's time for cocktails.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-57179204243973544432013-12-31T07:24:00.001-08:002013-12-31T07:24:39.177-08:00I have a new website!Happy New Year!<br />
<br />
I'm happy to announce that I have a <a href="http://www.melanieharlow.com/">beautiful new website</a>, and you can find me there from now on...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.melanieharlow.com/">http://www.melanieharlow.com/</a><br />
<br />
I hope 2014 brings you joy and luck and good books and many happy cocktails with friends.<br />
<br />
Cheers!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-55762155328866891922013-12-05T18:51:00.003-08:002013-12-05T18:51:31.407-08:00Sexy Speak Low SceneExcitement this week!<br />
<br />
First, Speak Easy is freeeeeeee through December 7th on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Speak-Easy-ebook/dp/B00DY73DF0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1374414519&sr=8-1&keywords=Speak+Easy+Kindle">Amazon. Grab it!</a><br />
<br />
Next, I'm in the author spotlight on the lovely <a href="http://www.bibliobelles.com/">Biblio Belles Book Blog</a>! Check it out for a Speak Easy teaser and a chance to win a signed copy, signed bookmarks, and an eBook of <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18742267-unwrapped?from_search=true">Unwrapped</a>, the NAturals' novella collection out December 23rd!<br />
<br />
Finally, here is a sexy scene from Speak Low--no spoilers, promise!<br />
<br />
<div class="Manuscript">
“Come with me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Joey’s words floated toward me through the dark, whispered
in a low voice, raw with need. Masculine scents of smoke and whiskey and
aftershave filled my head, and I breathed deeply before a sigh escaped my lips.
Then his mouth was on mine, hot and hard and heavy. Too heavy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
<i>Joey, I won’t fight you. Take me away.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
I tried to murmur words against his lips, but the pressure
on my mouth wouldn’t let up. <i>I’m dreaming</i>,
I thought in a haze of confused arousal. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
But when I opened my eyes, the man in my room was real.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
And it wasn’t Joey.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Shhhh,” Enzo whispered, his hand over my mouth. “Come with
me. Now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
My pulse, already racing, kicked up even higher at his
invitation, at his touch on my lips, at the promise of sneaking somewhere alone
with him in the dark. Clothed in only my light summer nightgown, I followed him
past my father’s closed bedroom door, carefully moving down the stairs in my
bare feet. It didn’t surprise me at all that Enzo had come right in the front
door—he had a way with locks I’d learned not to question. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Outside, I hurried toward a gorgeous cream-colored Packard
sedan parked at the curb. Enzo opened the passenger door for me and I slid in,
tucking my hands underneath my legs. As I watched his lean, muscular frame move
around the front of the car and open the driver’s side door, my insides
tightened with desire. He wore no coat, no vest, and no collar on his white
shirt. The top few buttons were undone, and my fingers itched to pull the shirt
from his trousers and undo the rest of them so I could work off some of the
tension inside me. I dug my fingernails into my thighs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
As soon as the motor was running Enzo hit the accelerator,
speeding down the street and turning onto Jefferson so quickly I had to brace
myself against the door. My heart thrummed hard in my chest. Neither of us
spoke, but when his right hand slid across the seat and under the hem of my
short nightgown, I moved closer to him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
His expression remained impassive and his eyes on the road,
although I saw the slightest twitch in his jaw. I held my breath when his hand
settled on the inside of my thigh and slowly crept higher. When his fingers
brushed against the soft folds between my legs and he realized I wasn’t wearing
underwear, he glanced sharply at me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
My eyes pleaded with him to continue. I wanted to lose
control, lose my mind, lose myself. I wanted the heart-pounding abandon that
overwhelmed us when we let ourselves forget who we were and why every moment
between us was stolen. Ten days ago I hadn’t even known his name, but he’d
awakened something in me, something instinctual and insatiable that would not
be ignored.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
And I didn’t want to ignore it. I wanted to indulge it—now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
With my eyes locked on the exquisite lines of his profile,
I put my left hand between his legs. His cock was already hard, but as I rubbed
him up and down, it swelled further and strained tighter against his trousers.
He slipped a fingertip inside me, sliding it up the slick seam at my center,
keeping it torturously shallow, before moving it gently back and forth over the
tiny spot that electrified my entire body. <i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
With one hand I slipped the buttons of his trousers through
the holes and slid my palm down his hot, tight abdomen. When I wrapped my hand
around his solid flesh, he grabbed the steering wheel with both hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
I said nothing, just moved my hand up and down the hot,
thick column, squeezing tight and keeping the rhythm steady, the way I knew he
liked it. My lips curved into a smile. The thrill of touching Enzo this way
filled me with a sense of power and freedom so intoxicating I often felt drunk
when we were together, even when no alcohol had been consumed. The forward
motion of the car, the rush of night flying past the windows, the hum of the
tires on the road—all of it added to the maelstrom building inside me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Suddenly the Packard swerved. At first I thought it was
accidental, but then I saw that Enzo had turned down a silent residential
street with large homes set back from the road. He turned off the engine,
looked at me with glittering black eyes, and uttered just one word: “Now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
The keys barely hit the floor before he hauled me onto his
lap.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
I straddled him, one knee on either side of his hips, and
he took my head in his hands, crushing his mouth to mine. We weren’t in love,
about that I had no illusions, but our desire for each other was volatile and
fierce, and we kissed as if we were starved, as if our hunger could never be
satisfied. Enzo slipped his arms from his braces and I shoved at the sides of
his trousers. Without taking his mouth off me, he lifted his hips and managed
to shimmy them down just enough. I grasped his swollen cock in my hand again,
anxious to feel it inside me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
But we’d already been careless once the night before.
“Wait,” I breathed. Do you have…you know…” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Without answering, he tilted sideways and reached under the
front seat. When he righted himself, he held a small condom tin, and with one
hand, he opened it, slipped one from its paper wrapper, and slid it on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
I lowered myself onto him, intending to go slow since I was
still tender from the night before. But Enzo had other ideas. He grabbed my
hips and yanked me down hard, both of us gasping at the shock of it. Bracing my
hands on the top of the seat behind him, I turned my face away from his and
kept still, allowing my body to push past the sharp twinge of pain. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
His mouth, hot and wet, traveled down the exposed side of
my neck as the ache inside me eased. He swirled his tongue in an intricate
pattern along my throat and down to my shoulder. Instinctively, the muscles
surrounding him contracted, and I gasped when I felt his teeth sink into my
skin. Then he brushed his lips over the spot, soft as a feather. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Aroused by the whisper of his lips on my neck after the
sting of the bite, I began to move, slowly rocking my hips forward and back,
and clenching him tight inside me. He picked up his head and our eyes met, our
mouths open and breathing hotly against one another.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Then he took control of the rhythm between us, using his
hands on my hips, pulling and pushing my body against his, increasingly harder
and faster. He cursed and closed his eyes while I smiled and reached up,
flattening my palms on the car’s ceiling. I let him move me the way he wanted,
but I arched my back a little to feel the base of his cock just where I wanted
it. A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead, glistening in the dark, and my
back prickled with trapped heat under my nightgown. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
<i>Oh my God. Yes, yes, yes…<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Pressure built inside me, the powerful need for release a
gathering storm at my center, and I wanted to widen my knees even farther to
take him deeper. My blood roared, my skin hummed, and every muscle in my body
began to tighten. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Yes,” I said, my voice soft and pleading. “Don’t stop. Oh
God, Enzo—yes, like that. Don’t stop…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
He cursed again, and I could feel him start to throb inside
me. He dug his fingers into my skin and held me tight to him as he came, and
the sight of his gorgeous face and the pulse of his powerful orgasm and even the
knowledge that we could be seen through the windows sent me flying over the
edge of my own pleasure. I closed my eyes, dropped my head back, and let the
waves crash through me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Breathing hard, I stared at the ceiling of the car as stars
swam in front of my eyes. Enzo touched my throat, trailing five fingers down to
my chest. “I want you,” he growled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
I laughed lazily, picking my head up. “Again? Already?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
He didn’t smile. “I want you for myself.” His palm
flattened over one breast and he squeezed it before sliding his hand to the
small of my back. “I don’t want anyone else to have what I have.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
My body was still tingling, but his words abraded the
lingering hum a little. I wasn’t interested in being anyone’s possession.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
And Enzo had no room to talk. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“You’re the one with the fiancée, not me.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“I told you last night—that’s a business arrangement.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“I remember.” Irritated at the thought of the squeaking
little chippie he was engaged to marry, I tried to get off his lap, but he held
me there. His flesh was still relatively hard inside me, but I was no longer in
the mood. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Jealous?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“No.” But my cheeks were burning. “I just don’t like being
reminded of your goddamn girlfriend while I’m sitting on your lap.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“That’s more than just my lap you’re on, isn’t it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Stop it. You know what I mean. Here you are talking about
not wanting others to have me, but I don’t even know when we can see each
other, between my father and your fiancée, and—”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Your father won’t be a problem. He’ll be so busy with his
new business venture, he won’t even notice you’re gone.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“New business venture…you mean the new building?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“And the gambling. I set that up, you know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
I blinked in surprise. “Your father let you do that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“I’m a grown man, Tiny. My father doesn’t control me.”
Anger edged its way underneath his words.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Sorry, but I thought it was Angel who’d made the deal with
my father today. He never said anything about you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Well, I was there,” he said, irritated. “It was my idea to
move Jack to a new building, let him run a few games, and let Raymond take over
the bootlegging from Canada on his own.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
At the mention of his brother, I froze. “Raymond was
there?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Enzo smiled. “No, he’s still recovering from the wrath of
Tiny O’Mara.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
In my mind I relived the adrenaline-and-terror-fueled blow
to his head. I felt no guilt, but I did fear further violence. “Is he going to
come after me again?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“If he does, he’ll have me to answer to.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“But he’s your brother.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“I don’t fucking care who he is—anyone touches you, anyone
even looks at you in a way I don’t like, I’ll kill him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Unease slithered up my body, wrapping itself around my
chest like a boa constrictor. I tried to shake it off and speak lightly. “So it’s OK for you to have a fiancée,
but no one can even look my way?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“You know, if your friends hadn’t stolen that shipment, I
wouldn’t be in this position. I could probably even break it off with Gina.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
I raised an eyebrow. This was something new. Yesterday when
I’d confronted him about the engagement, he hadn’t said anything about leaving
Gina Meloni, whose father owned a whiskey distillery in Kentucky. “Oh?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“But now I can’t postpone anything until I pay for the
fucking whiskey I ordered. It’s in Meloni’s warehouse, but he won’t deliver it
until I pay him. And his men won’t let anyone else deliver booze to the club,
which is a big fucking problem, as you might imagine.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
I didn’t much care about his whisky problem. “Postpone
what? I thought you were already engaged.” I tried to recall a ring on Gina’s
finger, but couldn’t. The couple times I’d seen her at the club, I hadn’t known
about the engagement so I hadn’t thought to look for one.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Enzo turned his head and stared out the window. “I asked
her father for more time to get the cash for the whiskey, and he offered a
deal.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“What kind of deal?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“If Gina and I get married now, he’ll forgive the debt.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
The irony that it was now Enzo forced to come up with
thousands of dollars on a deadline wasn’t lost on me, but I couldn’t help
obsessing over the word <i>married, </i>especially
in light of our intimate seating arrangement. “Wait a minute…you’re actually
going to marry her?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“I’m trying to get out of it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
My mouth fell open “Jesus Christ, Enzo!” This time when I
wrestled my way off his lap, he didn’t stop me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“What’s the problem, Tiny? It’s not as if you didn’t know
about her. We discussed the fact that you and I are a secret, remember? That’s
half the fun.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
We <i>had</i> discussed it,
sort of—actually it was less a discussion and more his telling me how things
had to be. If I wanted him, those were the terms. And while the secrecy did add
a certain clandestine thrill to our meetings, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a
married man’s mistress. Frowning, I looked away as he removed the spent condom.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Listen to me,” he said. “Gina’s not important. What
matters is that I can’t let Meloni see I can be bested by a bunch of fucking
upstart delinquents from the Scarfone gang. He’ll make my life hell. He’ll
think he can push me around. That’s why I have to go after them myself. Forget
what I told you about talking to Lupo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
At the mention of Joey, I froze. “What?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“I need to handle this now. I can’t wait around and hope
that he tells you something.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Can’t you just ask your father for the money?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“I’m not a fucking child, Tiny. I can handle this myself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“So now what?”
Pressing my knees together, I pushed my nightgown down and tucked it around my
legs. My thighs were sticky.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“So now I get my money back from those assholes. I can’t
let it be known that you can steal from Enzo DiFiore. I have to send a
message.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Chills swept down my arms. “How?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
He set his jaw and didn’t answer, but I knew what he was
thinking. My stomach heaved, imagining it could be Joey on the receiving end of
that message. “Don’t, Enzo. You don’t have to hurt anyone—let me help you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“You can’t help me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Yes, I can.” <i>What are you doing?</i> a voice inside me screamed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
But I ignored it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“The River Gang didn’t sell the opium. Joey brought it back
to Detroit.” I whispered the words, as if the volume at which I betrayed Joey
might lessen its reprehensibility.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Enzo fixed his eyes on me. “What? Who told you that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Joey wants to talk to you. Maybe make a deal with you.”
The words tumbled out quickly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Where is it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Finally I bit my tongue. “I don’t know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Oh, I think you do.” He leaned closer, slipping his arms
around me and dragging me across his lap on my back. My legs extended along the
seat, and I pressed my knees together as his right hand slid under my nightgown
again. “And you’re going to tell me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Enzo, please.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
He kneaded my thigh, but his touch was gentle, too gentle
for how I knew he must be feeling inside. And he was smiling. “Tell me,
darling.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
I chewed my bottom lip as his eyes searched my face.
Despite his warm hands on me, the curve of his lips was as chilling as the calm
in his voice. It was the Enzo I’d first met, the one who could mask his
emotions so masterfully that I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He’d let
some of that façade slip in the last few days. <i>But now there’s something he
wants more than you. </i>“I can’t.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
His smile widened as his fingers slid higher and worked
between my inner thighs. “You can do anything you want,” he said softly,
bringing his lips close to mine as he began to stroke me. “You’re still wet. I
love that I make you this wet.” Lowering his mouth, he slid his tongue between
my lips and eased one finger, then another, inside me, his languid kiss
mirroring the gentle rhythm of his hand. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Somewhere inside my brain was a voice warning me that this
was wrong, that I’d made a promise to Joey, that Enzo wasn’t kissing me this
way because he cared for me. But I silenced it by telling myself I’d done the
right thing by revealing Joey’s secret—I’d prevented Enzo from hurting anyone.
And even if Enzo didn’t love me, he certainly loved pleasing me, and maybe that
was enough. As his tongue swept mine, my arms snaked around his neck and I
widened my knees a little.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Good girl,” he whispered, removing his fingers to caress
my tender, swollen flesh before plunging them deep inside me again. “You’re
going to come again for me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Oh God…” I clutched at his neck and turned my face into
his chest, but even the smell of him, smoky and masculine, drove me mad with
desire. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
He rubbed his wet fingers over the most sensitive skin on
my body. “I know everything you want. And I can give it all to you, you know I
can.” His voice was dulcet, the words dripping from his lips like honey. “Your
own apartment, money to do as you please, new clothes…the life you deserve.
I’ve been thinking about it all day.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
When I moaned, he rubbed faster and harder, and I could
only think <i>yes, yes, yes. </i>I murmured the
words, and he brought his lips closer to my ear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Wouldn’t you like your own place? Where we can be together
whenever we want? I’ll make you come all…night…long.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
His breath tickled my skin, his words echoing through the
roar of blood and the buzz of nerve endings and—<i>oh my God</i> the way he touched me made me feel like nothing else
mattered but the moment and the need and the heat and the spiraling climb
toward release…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Yes!” I cried out, lifting my hips against his hand as the
second orgasm exploded inside me, no less powerful than the first. When the
tightness finally eased, my bones were floating in my skin.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Mmmmm.” He kissed me again. “You’ll need an apartment that
has thick walls.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
I managed a tiny smile. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“So what do you say?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“I…can’t
afford an apartment.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“I’ll pay for it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“No.” Orgasms aside, I didn’t want to him to own me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Then I’ll get you a job. Would you like to work at the
club?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Work at the club? What would I do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Whatever you want. Hostess? Hat check? Waitress?” He
cocked his head. “You don’t sing, do you? Or dance? You’d look fantastic on
stage in a short little costume.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Uh, no.” Because one of my legs was slightly shorter than
the other, the result of a difficult birth during which my hip was broken, I’d
never felt terribly natural while dancing—sometimes even walking comfortably
was a chore. And my singing made my cooking skills look good.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“Well, you can think about it then. But I’ll see to it that
you’re paid <i>very</i> well, if you want.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
I exhaled, closing my eyes. Of course I wanted it. I wanted
everything he just mentioned—the apartment, the nights with him, the money to
do as I pleased, the freedom to make my choices and own my mistakes as well as
my successes. What young woman didn’t want to live a flapper’s life with all
its wicked delights?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
<i>But at what price?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
If I told Enzo where the opium was and he took it back,
Joey would know I’d betrayed him. But if I didn’t, Enzo would take matters into
his own hands and people would get hurt, maybe even killed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
I opened my eyes. “If I tell you where the opium is, you
have to promise me you’ll give me a chance to talk to Joey before you take it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“I can’t promise that, Tiny. But I can promise that if you <i>don’t</i> tell me, I’ll have no choice but to settle this
score my own way.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
My heart stuttered. “Well…you can’t hurt Joey. Promise
that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Enzo stiffened. “What is he to you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
“A friend.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Silence. “I won’t have to hurt him if he cooperates. And I
won’t have to marry Gina if I get the cash for the drugs.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
It was so dark, I couldn’t read his eyes. I wanted
everything he was offering. And I didn’t want him to marry Gina. What had he
said to me this morning? <i>You and I are going to have to trust each other a
little bit.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
I took a breath. “It’s in the boathouse.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
A smile crept onto his lips, slow and sinister. “Shall we
take a ride?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
I struggled to sit up. “No!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
He shifted me onto the seat beside him and started the car.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Manuscript">
Panicked, I put my hands on his arm and tugged. “Please,
Enzo. Just wait, all right?” It occurred to me that I wasn’t entirely positive
the drugs were still in the boathouse. Even if they had been there earlier
today, Joey might have moved them after dropping me off. I hung on as he swung
the car around and headed back onto Jefferson. “Listen, I wasn’t supposed to
tell you anything yet, and now I’ll be in trouble.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Enzo
laughed. “Trouble is your middle name, darling.”</span><!--EndFragment-->
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Want more??? <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Speak-Low-Easy-Melanie-Harlow-ebook/dp/B00GAYRNNW/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1383158337&sr=8-6&keywords=Speak+Low+Kindle">Click here to grab it for $2.99!</a></span><br />
<br />
Cheers,<br />
MelanieAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-5472200260172920942013-11-19T02:38:00.000-08:002013-11-19T02:38:58.388-08:00Unwrapped Cover Reveal <div style="text-align: left;">
I'm so exited to reveal this cover today, not only because I love it so much (it's the same designer who did Speak Easy and Speak Low!) but because it's the first official collaboration between me and my five dearest writing friends.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We each provided a short story for this book, so you're getting six novellas PLUS the hot little story we co-wrote last summer, The Boy Next Door. The stories in Unwrapped are a little of everything but a whole lot of sexy and fun. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
What's my contribution about? Well, it's called Three to Tango, and it's about a shy, romance novel-obsessed girl named Caroline who learns to channel her inner smut goddess after a sexy tango lesson with Nicolas, a hot foreign instructor--and his gorgeous partner, Valentina.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
More about that later! For now...</div>
<div align="center">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center">
<b>COVER REVEAL</b></div>
<div align="center">
<b>A New Adult Romance</b></div>
<div align="center">
<b>Six different novellas </b></div>
<div align="center">
<b>by the NAturals</b></div>
<div align="center">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP-uZb8xrgLHlP-us7AknflmP4HI62ke9vnuV3unHat1abxVlocHgbkXNkwiGuBCs-j9Qh5qeHoUvfM7SMILkh6n759M_zXOehKoa5cF2jYdnoO7UASYsFnry5m0gZlIi7ux6edlayXOZM/s1600/Unwrappedcoverfinal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP-uZb8xrgLHlP-us7AknflmP4HI62ke9vnuV3unHat1abxVlocHgbkXNkwiGuBCs-j9Qh5qeHoUvfM7SMILkh6n759M_zXOehKoa5cF2jYdnoO7UASYsFnry5m0gZlIi7ux6edlayXOZM/s320/Unwrappedcoverfinal.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<b>Laurelin Paige, Gennifer Albin, Melanie Harlow, </b></div>
<div align="center">
<b>Sierra Simone, Kayti McGee Downey, and Tamara Mataya</b><b></b></div>
<div align="center">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center">
<b>Release: December 23, 2013</b></div>
<div align="center">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center">
<b>Cover designed by Tom Barnes Design</b></div>
<div align="center">
<b><br /></b></div>
<b> </b>
Six romance authors present six very different novellas in this anthology of new stories: Ménage a tango lessons. A bride DYING to say, 'I don't.' A horny college boy at a purity rally. Time-traveling graduate students meet Victorian playboys. A rugby player who's as dirty off the field as on. And kissing under the mistletoe with a Scottish exchange student. Something for everyone, the NAturals present sweet, funny, and erotic tales of new adults meant to be Unwrapped all year long and not just at Christmas.
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18742267-unwrapped?from_search=true" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo goodreads-badge-add-38px11_zps1ae6e47f.jpg" border="0" class="aligncenter" src="http://i1285.photobucket.com/albums/a597/Julie_Brazeal/goodreads-badge-add-38px11_zps1ae6e47f.jpg" /></a>
<b>About the Authors</b>
Laurelin Paige, Gennifer Albin, Melanie Harlow, Sierra Simone, Kayti McGee Downey, and Tamara Mataya are the six authors who blog for TheNaturalAuthors.blogspot.com. They each write romance and adore pushing the boundaries of the genre. Above all, they love reading smut, looking at pictures of hot men, and making up names for the band they’re always talking about forming.
<a href="http://thenaturalauthors.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/theNAturalauthors" target="_blank">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/NAturalAuthors" target="_blank">Twitter</a>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://atomrbookblogtours.com/" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo AToMRToursC66a-A00aT03a-Z_mdm_zpsa3cc6896.jpg" border="0" class="aligncenter" height="67" src="http://i1285.photobucket.com/albums/a597/Julie_Brazeal/AToMRToursC66a-A00aT03a-Z_mdm_zpsa3cc6896.jpg" style="border: 0px;" width="150" /></a></div>
<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/61c0a121/" id="rc-61c0a121" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js" type="text/javascript"></script>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-61600334624329135062013-11-04T08:13:00.003-08:002013-11-04T08:13:48.780-08:00I Wanted to Hate Night OwlI'm ashamed of myself.<br />
<br />
On Saturday I started Night Owl, hoping it would be bad. Really bad.<br />
<br />
You see, I had something against the author.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi256ziFTW0BUTgICWTmGeez2KSpqkyiTYgDEWXfLPf4-iQ3FlGSalJSkPSbrc5dC_sPoykYYwaZJnbrwdPI6nBF_M8FZ3lqU3A_43nLQzMyoH8V23BfZlAtA7ZTRbblhxukT-FVt7EuvRd/s1600/18681804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi256ziFTW0BUTgICWTmGeez2KSpqkyiTYgDEWXfLPf4-iQ3FlGSalJSkPSbrc5dC_sPoykYYwaZJnbrwdPI6nBF_M8FZ3lqU3A_43nLQzMyoH8V23BfZlAtA7ZTRbblhxukT-FVt7EuvRd/s320/18681804.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
I didn't know the author personally. In fact, I had never even heard of M. Pierce or Night Owl. But I was aggravated by something Pierce said in a blog post about the way authors price their ebooks.<br />
<br />
And I was fist-clenching, teeth-gritting jealous.<br />
<br />
This was an author who came out of nowhere with a debut novel that rocketed to the top ten in the Kindle store pretty fast. Reviews of Night Owl are amazing.<br />
<br />
I was convinced M. Pierce was a pen name for an established author or an agent. One who had connections. One who had a built-in fan base. Or maybe a Big Name to blurb the book. In other words, M. Pierce wasn't starting at the bottom, like me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNkYy2v_Wqw4l0mKtRt99Gz7oNKjuAbdVSFfRPjJCHCfPo1Aj86O8GQSvS09gy7c0pcruJc-jYRSjrQtQ5BlptLjWjGUlj-PXlMDAcXxMFmHMGjx_h1H0a5fCT5F1DTr3-y9uuvBVnbI3r/s1600/Jealous.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNkYy2v_Wqw4l0mKtRt99Gz7oNKjuAbdVSFfRPjJCHCfPo1Aj86O8GQSvS09gy7c0pcruJc-jYRSjrQtQ5BlptLjWjGUlj-PXlMDAcXxMFmHMGjx_h1H0a5fCT5F1DTr3-y9uuvBVnbI3r/s320/Jealous.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
So I got the free sample on Kindle (yes, I'm cheap) and started reading, hoping that the writing would be bad, the editing shoddy, the smut recycled from every other alpha male book out there right now. Then, I reasoned, I would not feel so bad that I do not sell a million books a day. Because at least I know how to use punctuation.<br />
<br />
I poured a glass of wine, gave a final harrumph, and started to read.<br />
<br />
Two pages in, I was hooked. And furious.<br />
<br />
How DARE Night Owl be so fucking good? How DARE M. Pierce write so well? How DARE the characters be so interesting, the setup so intriguing, the smut so hot?<br />
<br />
Take that, Night Owl!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJJkbiGdZx483jIGS9Av7WBbn0JRfIVSGb59hJE_id9Z4gUHcc3PFi63oazU1CbQ3NFNg6f6n_YCWc05-DMBIbO7IXyWE0gz51EMvONTkXT0TJHmS1vSw0h7njHLSYxBfyq0ELwsN61Y_/s1600/betty-draper-hates-pidgeons-o.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJJkbiGdZx483jIGS9Av7WBbn0JRfIVSGb59hJE_id9Z4gUHcc3PFi63oazU1CbQ3NFNg6f6n_YCWc05-DMBIbO7IXyWE0gz51EMvONTkXT0TJHmS1vSw0h7njHLSYxBfyq0ELwsN61Y_/s1600/betty-draper-hates-pidgeons-o.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I bought the book (<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Night-Owl-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B00F02O1W6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1383580761&sr=1-1&keywords=night+owl">99 cents on Amazon</a>) and poured more wine.<br />
<br />
As I read on, I was even more convinced that M. Pierce was a fake name for a big author who wanted to write erotica anonymously. The writing was too confident, too sharp, too unapologetic. Cocky, even--but in a good way. No fumbling, frilly prose or shifts in verb tense. No misuse of apostrophes. No excessive dialog tags choking the characters' conversations.<br />
<br />
I. Was. So. Mad.<br />
<br />
The next morning, I stalked <a href="http://mpiercefiction.com/">M. Pierce's blog</a> like a hawk, determined to figure out if he or she was really Stephen King. (Not gonna lie, that's really what I thought.)<br />
<br />
Imagine my surprise to discover it's really just a fantastic, hard-working writer who wrote a good book that took off. And that M. Pierce is funny, honest, self-deprecating, and generous with advice to other indie authors.<br />
<br />
Damn, that's annoying.<br />
<br />
I felt horrible. And guilty. So I wrote Pierce an email saying how much I was enjoying Night Owl and admitting that I'd hoped it wouldn't be as good as everyone said it was. I even confessed my stalkerish behavior.<br />
<br />
And then, AND THEN, to make me feel even worse, I get an awesome email back, and we've since struck up a nice conversation about writing and publishing and other random things.<br />
<br />
I can't wait to finish Night Owl, and if you like well-written erotic romance, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Night-Owl-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B00F02O1W6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1383580761&sr=1-1&keywords=night+owl">I urge you to pick it up</a>--you'll love the fresh twists on the genre, and the sexytimes are just as hot as anything I've read. Matt, one of the two main characters, is completely under my skin today. He's actually not all that likable in many ways, and it's a credit to Pierce that I kind of can't get enough of him.<br />
<br />
I wanted to dislike the author and the book. Serves me right that they are both amazing.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-84903564794603730842013-11-02T06:38:00.002-07:002013-11-02T06:38:12.682-07:00Masked Love by Nicole Zoltack<div class="im">
Today I'm chatting with my friend Nicole Zoltack, whose holiday-themed historical romance Masked Love released this week. Cheers to historical!!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSt-yY-ulsK6YhDDBT2s4YBh8C7bx30AvQk-zUO9f9sbGZ1fKmsfI1x0AaYfoygTDADC2YTVmmdZU-UZxxWb6fF-TlkhdxRZg56ndoPaJgTzFmKt5ML7XY7RKPH2_Wr7zRHuU4Vitp9jRF/s1600/CoverFinalLG-MaskedLove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSt-yY-ulsK6YhDDBT2s4YBh8C7bx30AvQk-zUO9f9sbGZ1fKmsfI1x0AaYfoygTDADC2YTVmmdZU-UZxxWb6fF-TlkhdxRZg56ndoPaJgTzFmKt5ML7XY7RKPH2_Wr7zRHuU4Vitp9jRF/s320/CoverFinalLG-MaskedLove.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b>Title:</b></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Masked Love<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b>Author:</b></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Nicole Zoltack<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b>Genre:</b></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Holiday/Christmas
Regency Novella<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b>Publisher:</b></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Swoon Romance</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b>Publication
Date:</b></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">
November 1, 2013<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b>Formats:</b></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> eBook (mobi and ePub)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><b>Book Description...</b></span></div>
<span style="background: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Isabelle is content being a maid, and will do
anything for her lady, even accompany her to a masquerade ball. Lady Theodosia
needs extra support and encouragement on this night, for tomorrow she will meet
the man her parents have pledged her to.</span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">Isabelle has never had occasion to attend such
an event, and is at first ill at ease. But meeting an enchanting young man
during the course of the evening makes her wish for a life she can never have.
Thinking she will never see him again, she returns his flirtation and even
reveals her face. Imagine her shock when he shows up the next morning,
announcing his claim on Lady Thedosia.</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Isabelle does all she can to avoid Lord Adrian
Wingave, but then he not only sees her, he recognizes her. To make matters
worse, Isabelle fears her feelings are not one-sided. Torn between duty and
desire, Isabelle hopes for something more this Christmas.</span></span><!--EndFragment-->
<br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="background: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="background: white;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18621971-masked-love?from_search=true">Add to Goodreads!</a></span></span><br />
<br />
1) Nicole, what inspired you to write Masked Love?</div>
<b>I've
always thought of Christmas as a magical time, just perfect for falling
in love. I'd been wanting to write a Christmas romance for awhile. I
had just finished writing a steampunk romance (which is in the middle of
a rewrite) and that was my first venture into the Victorian era. I
decided I wanted to try yet another time period, since I love research,
and picked Regency. From there, I added a masquerade ball and I was off
to the keyboard.</b><br />
<div class="im">
<br />
<div>
<br />
2) Do you have a Masked Love playlist? If Isabelle and Lord Adrian had a song, what would it be?</div>
</div>
<div>
<b>Since
I wrote Masked Love not even close to the Christmas season, I actually
listen to a lot of Christmas music to get me into the mood. Hark the
Harold Angles Sing, Here We Go A-Wassailing, and the like.</b></div>
<div>
<b>Isabelle and Lord Adrian's song would be "I Won't Give
Up" by Jason Mraz. The beginning is fitting for their first meeting:
When I look into your eyes, it's like watching the night sky or a
beautiful sunrise.</b></div>
<div>
<b>And the chorus for the rest of the story: Well, I won't
give up on us even if the skies get rough. I'm giving you all my love.
I'm still looking up.</b></div>
<div>
<b>*sigh* Such a good song!</b></div>
<div class="im">
<br />
3) What do you like best about setting books during the Regency period? What other historical periods intrigue you?</div>
<div>
<b>This is my first Regency and it definitely won't be
my last. I enjoy this time period because of how different it is from
today. It's more strict and rigid and the division between the different
classes makes for plenty of conflict between characters. So many
sources of drama and tension exist within the Regency era and makes for
perfect story fodder.</b></div>
<div>
<b>I've written a lot of medieval-inspired fantasy romances.
I've always been fascinated with the idea of knights and chivalry and
love. I already mentioned the Victorian era with my steampunk WIP. I'm
not opposed to trying a different time period either. Who knows what
I'll try next?</b></div>
<div>
<div class="im">
<br />
4) Who did you envision as you wrote Isabelle and Lord Adrian? </div>
<div>
<div>
<img src="https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/images/cleardot.gif" /></div>
<div>
<b>Henry Cavill with green eyes a la Tudors would be a perfect
Lord Adrian. Yum! As for Isabelle, she looks like Jaimie Alexander, but
with brown eyes. Very good-looking couple! ;)</b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nFYk1bAWahGiPkfAlzfZsvI8n5DYAbPwUXpKqSsKKMJjSXcLzt42WZat_VhxJAFEWYcFKC6BrbFtlOzei3B_kUrR3p9AWdsZ4DOeLXRtNOXHWDs_lTxT-8gmLejL_YGRhPgJp4JBzAbJ/s1600/Henry_Cavill_The-Tudors_promo_03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nFYk1bAWahGiPkfAlzfZsvI8n5DYAbPwUXpKqSsKKMJjSXcLzt42WZat_VhxJAFEWYcFKC6BrbFtlOzei3B_kUrR3p9AWdsZ4DOeLXRtNOXHWDs_lTxT-8gmLejL_YGRhPgJp4JBzAbJ/s320/Henry_Cavill_The-Tudors_promo_03.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ZGAFTdkY4iMOnNDsPHJgulqLG-95F9YF_Cv_Qi6LBBpPwb1UTLTyI0UfWpO-2eDGMh9arBqGQKX1jvDwlgWsN_j03uhwBS7V6o5gPCCuog7Mwmm14IY7d082DhrGV9ieuKIZ1b_wkHL7/s1600/imgres.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ZGAFTdkY4iMOnNDsPHJgulqLG-95F9YF_Cv_Qi6LBBpPwb1UTLTyI0UfWpO-2eDGMh9arBqGQKX1jvDwlgWsN_j03uhwBS7V6o5gPCCuog7Mwmm14IY7d082DhrGV9ieuKIZ1b_wkHL7/s1600/imgres.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Love me some Henry Cavill! (OK, she's beautiful too.)<br />
<br />
Thanks, Nicole!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt;"><b>PUBLISHER LINKS<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt;">www.myswoonromance.com<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt;">@swoonromance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt;">Facebook.com/SwoonRomance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt;"><b>AUTHOR LINKS<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt;">http://www.NicoleZoltack.com<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt;">http://NicoleZoltack.blogspot.com<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt;">https://www.facebook.com/pages/Nicole...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://twitter.com/NicoleZoltack<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-17287713857258420372013-10-04T14:46:00.003-07:002013-10-04T14:46:19.871-07:00Book Blitz -- The Long GameI head the pleasure of reading The Long Game this summer, and it grabbed me right from page one! The characters and setting are still in my head, and I can't wait to read the sequel--J.L. Fynn, you better write fast. :)<br />
<br />
The details...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSkgX6hfETJPqb540WzDn4E9bLPpgEakyXQY5MQ5fQ0_jBazvi5bRsJ212kAcQH7h4ONEO42yNTGXA1PhsQaBNU2Cmf5NwYt9fSuXwzJfG8fEJZyGA-B_vZonoXMnQEnuEZNKs59bqSbNX/s1600/TLGCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSkgX6hfETJPqb540WzDn4E9bLPpgEakyXQY5MQ5fQ0_jBazvi5bRsJ212kAcQH7h4ONEO42yNTGXA1PhsQaBNU2Cmf5NwYt9fSuXwzJfG8fEJZyGA-B_vZonoXMnQEnuEZNKs59bqSbNX/s320/TLGCover.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><b>Book Name:</b> The Long Game</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><b>Book Genre:</b> NA Contemporary</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><b>Book release date</b>: October 7, 2013</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><b>Add <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7173188.J_L_Fynn">The Long Game on Goodreads!</a></b> </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s3"><b>Blurb</b></span><span class="s4"><i>: </i></span><span class="s1">Smooth talking. Ambitious. Loyal. Twenty-year-old Shay Reilly has proven himself to his Irish-American Gypsy clan on small-scale cons, but now the clan leader has a bigger mission for him: playing the long game.<br />
<br />
To rake in the big score he’s after, he needs to con co-ed Spencer into falling in love with him. He knows he should see Spencer as a mere means to an end, but that’s easier said than done when there’s a witty, attractive girl in your arms.<br />
<br />
Now the only thing that can keep them apart is the thing that brought them together: Shay’s plans of revenge against someone who wronged his clan and family years before—Spencer’s father</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s3"><b>About the author J.L. Fynn: </b></span><span class="s1">J.L. Fynn is the public face of a private identity. She enjoys making up stories about iniquitous heroes, providing Delphic answers to unasked questions, and obfuscating the truth just for laughs. But then, what’s an author but a professional liar? If you </span><span class="s3">send her an email she might let you in on her little secret—assuming she likes your moxie.</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s3"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><b><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7173188.J_L_Fynn">J.L. Fynn on Goodreads</a></b></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><b><a href="https://twitter.com/JLFynnauthor">J.L. Fynn on Twitter</a></b></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/jlfynnauthor">J.L. Fynn on Facebook</a></b></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><b><a href="http://www.jlfynn.com/">J.L. Fynn on the web</a></b></span></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"><b>Join in on the buzz! <br />
The Long Game is looking for readers and bloggers for the upcoming book blog tour October 7th – October 20th!</b></span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="p9">
<span class="s1"><a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/15yEwhz8iRXRDsvAitDHjZ-9J8Xer62moYpQQgOOPJ3o/viewform">Sign up to join in on the buzz surrounding The Long Game!</a></span></div>
<br />
<div class="p10">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-24174657906351825492013-10-04T03:12:00.001-07:002013-10-04T03:12:21.783-07:00Cover Reveal...The Best Laid PlansWow! Today is a crazy exciting day--I've got two amazing things to share!<br />
<br />
First up, a bit of sexy for your Friday morning...the cover reveal for THE BEST LAID PLANS (out November 12th from Swoon Romance) by my beautiful Canadian friend, Tamara Mataya.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrlX-haJQm0Lf3RjsMqF0uaRjett3mAKBh9xfRyX5zXUmNwY6PAlCQRQ9gMxVFFSFYQ-0fMT13B1a_8JdIck8l5_1SXYZewbnVhEDaNJdLw6a9YL1JP-I2lYokymFk-y1xPcpJglcooh3/s320/TBLPFINAL.jpg" width="198" /></div>
<br />
Gah! Every time I see that cover (and really, I'm only peeking a few dozen times a day), I get, um, excited.<br />
<br />
Excited for Tamara, right, that's what I meant.<br />
<br />
Ahem! About the book...<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA"><b>Blurb:<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA"> Jayne
Griffin isn’t looking for Mr. Right. She’s looking for Mr. RTFN and a
toe-curling good time. She’s got the brains, the powerful job as a futures
broker, and thanks to a makeover and a thin book of dating advice, the
confidence to turn any man’s head. <br />
<br />
<span class="usercontent">Malcolm Black notices his high school crush, Jayne, from the
stage of her company’s work party.</span> His adolescent feelings for her died beneath months of abuse at the
hands of bullies. Abuse that was Jayne’s fault. Though this scorching hot studio
musician is unrecognizable as the band geek he used to be, the hurt still lives
inside him, and he hatches a plan: Seduce Jayne into falling in love with him,
and then shatter her heart. <br />
<br />
The
white-hot chemistry between them is a pleasant surprise. It all goes so
smoothly until feelings start to develop... and that invitation to their ten
year high school reunion lands in their inboxes. <br />
<br />
Jayne
wants the perfect lover. Malcolm wants revenge. But you know what they say
about The Best Laid Plans...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA"><br /></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA"><b>Coming November 12<sup>th </sup>2013
from Swoon Romance<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA">Let me just mention, I've read this book. "White hot chemistry" is an understatement.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA"><b><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18519674-the-best-laid-plans">Add to Goodreads!</a></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>About Tamara...</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVgWYwePBVpkk-Bnbvbq2Tj1IpWOFlEUCrhT5FsnsbYCgsRwTSgXDfFagPGM7LODBz0O5fzu0wv97fbcJJq9oB5zidUsiaiEzLI71PgZhCPyUSvV9dRWExymZS-4v-gMradzjWCXYCyTJh/s1600/Tamara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVgWYwePBVpkk-Bnbvbq2Tj1IpWOFlEUCrhT5FsnsbYCgsRwTSgXDfFagPGM7LODBz0O5fzu0wv97fbcJJq9oB5zidUsiaiEzLI71PgZhCPyUSvV9dRWExymZS-4v-gMradzjWCXYCyTJh/s200/Tamara.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA">
<!--EndFragment--></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA">Tamara Mataya is currently a librarian; she
lurked there for so long recommending books to patrons and shushing people,
that she suspects they only hired her so it would be less creepy. Now she’s
armed with a name tag, and a thin veneer of credibility. She’s also a musician
with synaesthesia – which isn't an issue until someone plays a wrong note,
which makes her want to squirm inside out. It makes for a good live show. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA"><b>BLOG:<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA"><a href="http://feakysnucker.blogspot.ca/">http://feakysnucker.blogspot.ca/</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA"><b>Twitter:<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA">
<!--EndFragment--></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA"><a href="https://twitter.com/TamaraMataya">https://twitter.com/TamaraMataya</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-1077017420268711662013-10-03T06:51:00.002-07:002013-10-03T06:51:31.717-07:00New Adult...More than just Contemporary <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I love me some contemporary romance, especially in the New Adult category. It was books like Easy, Damaged, and Fallen Too Far that hooked me on New Adult and inspired me to reach out to those readers when publishing Speak Easy. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Because even though it's set in 1923, it's still at heart a story about a 20-year-old "new adult" finding her way, craving independence and excitement, making mistakes, and enjoying sexual freedom. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
A lot. ;)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I honestly didn't know how tough it would be to get NA fans to try something new, and I get giddy when people write me saying they were reluctant to pick up a non-contemp book but ended up loving it. So when I was approached about adding Speak Easy to a bundle of non-contemp books to help spread the word that NA is expanding, I jumped at the opportunity. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Curious? Looking to branch out into other areas of New Adult but don't want to break the bank? Read on, my dears, and...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Fall for the new New Adult:</i></span> a campaign to spread the word that New Adult is expanding into new and exciting categories like Historical, Fantasy, Science Fiction, Gothic, and more! </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">Follow along to find out why best-selling NA authors & NA bloggers are excited to see New Adult expand outside of contemporary. (Full schedule can be found <a href="http://kimberlypchase.blogspot.com/">here</a>.) </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And as an incentive to give the new NA a try, the <i><a href="http://amzn.com/B00FL4BCMU">Fall for New Adult</a> </i>bundle set will be available for a limited time. Set includes 4 great non-contemporary NA novels for only $3.99! </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmV_-rnZZJc_qy0quKny8eLazP_VhSkyuwDVBPk12K86xVlfPAgKNIlnNqYe2j8kHuhKzgvfQaV2WF58STjjBnv5r-v7m6hmj5tp4VW8odh0xEWMM-ljF1TQ3qSE8xCV7d1LSf1xulKXY/s1600/FallforNewAdultBlogTourAnimated+(2).gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmV_-rnZZJc_qy0quKny8eLazP_VhSkyuwDVBPk12K86xVlfPAgKNIlnNqYe2j8kHuhKzgvfQaV2WF58STjjBnv5r-v7m6hmj5tp4VW8odh0xEWMM-ljF1TQ3qSE8xCV7d1LSf1xulKXY/s640/FallforNewAdultBlogTourAnimated+(2).gif" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Something for everyone! :)<br />
<br />
Cheers!<br />
Melanie<br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7B4DzbrtG8dRUi1LYHIPgoEYnuMgKZuCJDV0-O2CFChChZemnzl8UjBwe_hWIMilk8M-4HfIbuv8uTCO3wRHtIds2VdA693AI_1n9DwZlGFcuOwVwweNuDLtN2P-p9ZX7AL213U-QQb4/s1600/FallforNA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7B4DzbrtG8dRUi1LYHIPgoEYnuMgKZuCJDV0-O2CFChChZemnzl8UjBwe_hWIMilk8M-4HfIbuv8uTCO3wRHtIds2VdA693AI_1n9DwZlGFcuOwVwweNuDLtN2P-p9ZX7AL213U-QQb4/s200/FallforNA.jpg" width="147" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We want to know why YOU want to see NA expand too! J</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">oin the campaign by grabbing the gif. above and blogging/tweeting about why YOU want to see NA expand! #NACampaign</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Purchase the </span><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fall for New Adult</i><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> bundle set </span><a href="http://amzn.com/B00FL4BCMU" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">here</a><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">! </span></b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-71180590498169382012013-09-11T07:13:00.000-07:002013-09-11T07:13:03.904-07:00Mmmmm....Joey's Meat SauceFor my dirty-minded readers (and oh how I adore you), that's not a metaphor. I'm actually talking about meat sauce.<br />
<br />
Or if you're Sicilian like Joey Lupo in Speak Easy, or like my mother's family, you might call it gravy. In the book, there is a scene where Joey cooks pasta with gravy for Tiny and her sisters--one of my favorite scenes to write.<br />
<br />
Aside from THOSE scenes. ;)<br />
<br />
Anyway, I'm making it today for my family, and thought I'd share the recipe with you.<br />
<br />
A little history first! My great-grandmother's name was Josephine, and she came with her husband and two young children from Carini, Sicily in 1902. My grandmother, Virginia, wasn't born until 1921, one of eleven siblings. (Sometimes it's very strange to me that Tiny is "older" than my own grandmother...)<br />
<br />
Anyway, I guess the recipe came from the old country with her, but no one ever wrote it down. Much later, like maybe during the 60s or 70s, my mother told me that some of her aunt/uncles/cousins wanted the recipe, but no one who knew it would talk.<br />
<br />
Through trial and error and memory, they put it together, but there was one special ingredient no one could pinpoint--and <i>still </i>nobody who knew it would talk.<br />
<br />
Anyway, below is the one they came up with...WARNING: Your house will smell so good while this sauce is simmering, you might have the entire neighborhood floating to your door on the scent.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Joey's Meat Sauce (Bolognese)</span></b><br />
5 garlic cloves, minced<br />
2 Tbsp olive oil<br />
1 medium onion, chopped<br />
1 lb. bulk Italian sausage<br />
1 lb. ground beef (optional)<br />
1 large can crushed tomatoes<br />
1 medium can tomato sauce<br />
1 small can tomato paste<br />
dried basil<br />
dried oregeno<br />
3-4 peppercorns<br />
Italian seasoning<br />
< 1 Tbsp cinnamon (I use a full Tbsp, but I love this flavor in the sauce...it was the guess at the secret ingredient)<br />
1 Tbsp sugar<br />
1 bay leaf<br />
1/4 red wine (and since it's open, you might as well drink it while you cook, right?)<br />
<br />
1) Brown the sausage in a frying pan, remove from heat and drain. Do the same for the beef, if you're using it.<br />
<br />
2) In a large nonstick pot (I <3 my Le Creuset Dutch Oven), heat the oil and saute the garlic and onion. Then add the meat and all cans of tomatoes to the pot.<br />
<br />
3) This next step cracks me up because you can tell that nobody really knew how much water to add, and even since then, no one has actually measured it: Fill each tomato can with water but not quite all the way to the top and pour them in.<br />
<br />
Really precise, I know. But cooking is an art, not a science, right??<br />
<br />
4) This one's even more precise: Cover the top of the sauce with basil, oregeno (less) and Italian seasonings (less). My best guess is maybe 1 Tbsp of basil and just 2 tsp of the other two. But this is a matter of taste!<br />
<br />
5) Add the peppercorns, cinnamon, sugar, bay leaf, and wine.<br />
<br />
6) Pour yourself a nice big glass of wine and stir until the lumps are gone over medium heat. Bring to a gentle boil and cover. Turn the heat to low, just enough to keep it simmering.<br />
<br />
7) Simmer 1-2 hours over low heat. Take the cover off the last 20 minutes (and lock your doors). remove the bay leaf.<br />
<br />
I like this sauce with both long and short pasta. My mother always called it simply "Mostaccioli" when she made it and served it with short tubular paste that had lines on it and slanted ends. Just thinking of it makes me think of childhood!<br />
<br />
Oh, my mother did manage to finagle the secret ingredient out of an old great aunt, who was probably going senile and didn't realize she was giving it away.<br />
<br />
It was nutmeg.<br />
<br />
I was there when she told some of her family, and laughed my culo off at the room full of Italians hitting themselves on the head with one hand. "It was nutmeg! NUTMEG!"<br />
<br />
I stick with cinnamon, but someday I might try a pinch of nutmeg instead. :)<br />
<br />
Buon appetito!<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-50012573755899094512013-09-04T06:23:00.000-07:002013-09-04T06:23:19.990-07:00Wine & Romance & Giveaway (oh my)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
I'm a little bit giddy about REDEMPTION RED, the second book in the Wine Country Series by Delancey Stewart.<br />
<br />
Not only because I love wine and romance (who doesn't???) and adored <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rare-Vintage-Country-Romance-ebook/dp/B00D22WPAQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1378300374&sr=1-1&keywords=a+rare+vintage">A RARE VINTAGE</a>, the first book in the series, but because I got to choose REDEMPTION RED's setting!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgZAe7Y5Zk8sQq7lRX49fyeAnbhFVSiN9-vuinzJ8HoGhx_Y0ZOIUMJp6HowaaZjRIDiLtD1n5Ro0j4EYgmww6l513l21xzmQkr-KamdD5Bkn21pJVlUaZTnveGr_WW7t6tO54XfTJbUf/s1600/tumblr_mky7pyMcBv1rqfhi2o1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgZAe7Y5Zk8sQq7lRX49fyeAnbhFVSiN9-vuinzJ8HoGhx_Y0ZOIUMJp6HowaaZjRIDiLtD1n5Ro0j4EYgmww6l513l21xzmQkr-KamdD5Bkn21pJVlUaZTnveGr_WW7t6tO54XfTJbUf/s640/tumblr_mky7pyMcBv1rqfhi2o1_500.gif" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Actually it's because I stalked the author a lil bit and won a contest on her blog. (See? Good things can happen when you stalk people!)<br />
<br />
So I'm super excited to bring to you the cover reveal of REDEMPTION RED, scheduled to be released October 15th, 2013.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYz1IdNQaR53qM6movgTqKFs_ABFhyphenhypheneEoZSv8gmyD4Kl2Z8YreUs7ODuii8pv3EdCz-oNfhY-3VZ4cD1GNXS_6vBwq-lwasOCpGRVdhxc0dnVipUWvagpIda3Mbyp0X3KaWYWCzmXWxP0/s1600/Redemption+Red+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYz1IdNQaR53qM6movgTqKFs_ABFhyphenhypheneEoZSv8gmyD4Kl2Z8YreUs7ODuii8pv3EdCz-oNfhY-3VZ4cD1GNXS_6vBwq-lwasOCpGRVdhxc0dnVipUWvagpIda3Mbyp0X3KaWYWCzmXWxP0/s640/Redemption+Red+Cover.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<xml><br /></xml>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18133675-redemption-red?from_search=true">Add this beauty on Goodreads!</a></div>
<br />
<xml><br /></xml>
<xml>Book Description:</xml><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Love, loss, and a smoky red…</b><br />
<br />
<b>When Audrey Montgomery’s carefully planned life collides with the self-destructive path Tyson Dawes is on, neither of them can predict what will happen next. </b><br />
<br />
<b>Audrey is a diligent and self-reliant culinary student at Portland’s prestigious Cordon Bleu. She has a clear picture of her future in mind, and it allows little room for the steely-eyed and tormented young man she bumps into by chance while wine tasting with friends. </b><br />
<br />
<b>Tyson Dawes had a perfect childhood, raised among the vines in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. But even the most idyllic of upbringings couldn’t have prepared him for what he would face as a Marine. He returns to his childhood home angry and haunted by the storms of what he has faced and by those he has lost. </b></blockquote>
</div>
<blockquote>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>Do opposites truly attract? Can the lure of Audrey’s apparent clarity and innocence offer Tyson hope in the face of his emptiness? <br /> </b> </div>
</blockquote>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>The Wine Country books are part of a series but can each be read individually. :)</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rare-Vintage-Country-Romance-ebook/dp/B00D22WPAQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1378300374&sr=1-1&keywords=a+rare+vintage">Grab A Rare Vintage on Amazon for just 99 cents!</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdcV1wbw4PLHy4tz8ozB47f4mhWDkgh9zAAGR0UjGIRxAZOgt5EhR4nQFzw4DP3PkyLxZ7J32Ts9jIaiPA6zH1ZNAh3XH1fcVBs0cTG6zjQ09VCIcy51Jx-_CDcMRIFyap3XSCKiDxt00/s1600/Delancey+Stewart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdcV1wbw4PLHy4tz8ozB47f4mhWDkgh9zAAGR0UjGIRxAZOgt5EhR4nQFzw4DP3PkyLxZ7J32Ts9jIaiPA6zH1ZNAh3XH1fcVBs0cTG6zjQ09VCIcy51Jx-_CDcMRIFyap3XSCKiDxt00/s320/Delancey+Stewart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b>About the author:</b><br />
Delancey Stewart has lived on both coasts, in big cities and small towns. She's been a pharmaceutical rep, a personal trainer and a wine seller. Despite lots of other interests, she has always been a writer. <br />
A military spouse and the mother of two small boys, her current job titles include pirate captain, monster hunter, Lego assembler, story reader, and tech writer for a defense contractor. She tackles all these efforts at her current home in Southern Maryland. <br />
Delancey Stewart is the author of Through a Dusty Window: New York City Stories 1910-2001 and the Wine Country Romance Series which includes: A Rare Vintage and Redemption Red, as well as the Girlfriends of Gotham Series, publishing with Swoon Romance. The first book in that series, Men and Martinis, will be released in Winter 2013.<br />
<br />
<b>Find the author:</b><br />
<a href="http://delanceystewart.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Website/Blog</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/delancey.stewart" target="_blank">Facebook </a>| <a href="https://twitter.com/DelanceyStewart" target="_blank">Twitter</a><br />
<br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Giveaway:</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCHU4BBIaj5rWZu3m0jUvAQSqYmA4rUuLLblDDVMBncL3Pa89QNrE4jOxTexZST_a8tQaDUkJoNGvBjoalOq9k7sZwX_7sRiELVtADZAQNRCXD7BTk_RfwLyNW6LoXzYN7p-KrM7G71gk/s1600/wine-bottle-bracelet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCHU4BBIaj5rWZu3m0jUvAQSqYmA4rUuLLblDDVMBncL3Pa89QNrE4jOxTexZST_a8tQaDUkJoNGvBjoalOq9k7sZwX_7sRiELVtADZAQNRCXD7BTk_RfwLyNW6LoXzYN7p-KrM7G71gk/s320/wine-bottle-bracelet.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8BSuhH4w2JlOBwhSiUpDqDeOIOtXSee3glaqsGN5zUs8lxUW4IGG3bgAM7zVnR-CClmWajHTR5AJbUdz4wdzRo3E6PfmGGhdr_Zw8WUcrCNvquTXauTtd_Ba1MvComHS3HiLmyR1W3rM/s1600/pinotsmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8BSuhH4w2JlOBwhSiUpDqDeOIOtXSee3glaqsGN5zUs8lxUW4IGG3bgAM7zVnR-CClmWajHTR5AJbUdz4wdzRo3E6PfmGGhdr_Zw8WUcrCNvquTXauTtd_Ba1MvComHS3HiLmyR1W3rM/s200/pinotsmall.jpg" width="146" /></a></div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
</h2>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1378223433154_35639">
<b>Must be 18 or older to enter </b><br />
One winner will win (US only): </div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1378223433154_35638">
- an ebook copy of both "A Rare Vintage" and "Redemption Red"</div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1378223433154_35531">
- a gorgeous bracelet created with recycled wine bottles on an aluminum
link bracelet. It measures 7 1/2 inches long and features green, brown,
blue, gold and clear color glass rings. The bracelet is handmade and can
be dressed up or down, thanks to the elegant styling. </div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1378223433154_35641">
AND</div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1378223433154_35642">
-
a 10 ounce jar of Oregon Pinot Noir chocolate sauce from Euphoria
Chocolate Company in Oregon (where <i>Redemption Re</i>d is set). Great for use
on ice cream, in coffee or just on a spoon! </div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1378223433154_35642">
</div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1378223433154_35642">
4 winners will win (INT):</div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1378223433154_35642">
- an ebook of<i> Redemption Red</i></div>
</div>
<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/d34746121/" id="rc-d34746121" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-79254812895875052522013-08-31T12:23:00.000-07:002013-09-01T20:24:56.187-07:00Vibrators: Inspiring Action since 1880As a writer of historical fiction, I spend a lot of time researching, and I especially adore vintage ads.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Occasionally I come across something that I wasn't looking for but is so fascinating I get completely sidetracked and lose an hour amusing myself with it.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No pun intended. :)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Here's what got me today--an ad for Vigor's Horse-Action Saddles.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhImKiFdciPqlypS-urfpgImawK6e2zTX6z2m8BPHiXhLvyc9buI13EpIM-TIRYhOkUmNPwYGFt4qBljUfUOKJ-wugTOxGQbAY3UHATB90mYS_D-DWx8yKUEY0eLmZnVvs3o2X-1utFrcw/s1600/tumblr_lsezq1Zfxa1ql3ltfo1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhImKiFdciPqlypS-urfpgImawK6e2zTX6z2m8BPHiXhLvyc9buI13EpIM-TIRYhOkUmNPwYGFt4qBljUfUOKJ-wugTOxGQbAY3UHATB90mYS_D-DWx8yKUEY0eLmZnVvs3o2X-1utFrcw/s640/tumblr_lsezq1Zfxa1ql3ltfo1_400.jpg" width="448" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Just look at all the benefits for Victorian women...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A "UNIQUE SUBSTITUTE" for horse riding--you can trot, canter, and gallop, and you don't even have to leave the house! You can ride right there, next to your potted fern! (Sidesaddle, of course.)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It brings "all the VITAL ORGANS into INSPIRING ACTION!" So inspiring, even the Princess of Wales was "completely satisfied." If it's good enough for royal rumps, it's surely good enough for yours. :)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was, of course, an early vibrator, which was marketed to women for at-home use to cure their "hysteria." Prior to 1880, when the first electromechanical forebear to the Magic Wand was patented, women used to see their doctors for hysteria--they were treated with "physician-assisted paroxysm," or as women would later call it, an O.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzbs9aHhhyphenhyphennUHglRkI2WY9BbPzUVDIE9YlzUXlL8hs74URWCG09I1jCqBEdFsYBQZD_XXSfrt90SxHSz_SG7N5HZ8MMDs9lpUe23AKmP6-n7zqh3ASM09l50RxTbg03FacBd5BnjiVx0X/s1600/hysteria+cure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzbs9aHhhyphenhyphennUHglRkI2WY9BbPzUVDIE9YlzUXlL8hs74URWCG09I1jCqBEdFsYBQZD_XXSfrt90SxHSz_SG7N5HZ8MMDs9lpUe23AKmP6-n7zqh3ASM09l50RxTbg03FacBd5BnjiVx0X/s400/hysteria+cure.jpg" width="260" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Go figure, the doctors were swamped with patients who wanted their "mid-quarters" massaged and couldn't keep up. Hand cramps, you know. So to combat this "chronic hand fatigue," doctors sought mechanical intervention.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Enter Dr. Joseph Mortimer Granville, who invents the vibrator in 1880 (before the electric iron or vacuum cleaner) and effectively puts doctors treating hysteria out of O business.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The early ads tried to disguise what they were selling, but it was pretty obvious. </div>
<div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5p7BzJiCyv2RIvlEH8MdAzda_sRr3z1J9ErHj6rbcACd5KR1c3Fyz9umpL2DVVBOp8LghyphenhyphenulYGJ9fQlRuggsjBKO4oPCH8Ys4hqe1gDfxlu31QD6RjNV5aEd_ODBIt8rjioqgeWdkS3Ed/s1600/electricaids-searsad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5p7BzJiCyv2RIvlEH8MdAzda_sRr3z1J9ErHj6rbcACd5KR1c3Fyz9umpL2DVVBOp8LghyphenhyphenulYGJ9fQlRuggsjBKO4oPCH8Ys4hqe1gDfxlu31QD6RjNV5aEd_ODBIt8rjioqgeWdkS3Ed/s320/electricaids-searsad.jpg" width="257" /></a></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
According to one source, these kinds of ads disappeared about the same time that movies became popular (the 1920s). Apparently, once men saw these devices being used in stag movies (such a great old phrase), they realized that mechanical contraption in the hall closet wasn't really just a newfangled hair dryer.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Not to mention that electric saddle in the parlor... ;)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Cheers!</div>
<div>
Melanie</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-6442585294984881002013-08-28T05:51:00.001-07:002013-08-28T05:51:01.793-07:00Cover Reveal -- The Long GameThird and final cover reveal this week!<br />
<br />
This one is for a very cool NA book I just read called THE LONG GAME, written by my friend J.L. Fynn. I just read the ARC and was fascinated by the crazy-original setting and plot!<br />
<br />
If you're looking for something different in contemporary NA, don't miss.<br />
<br />
Take a look...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLI-aN7cO5ri92dL-Bn2308vgztpM0n8ZE2pQHQ07p7w54UTMyoQzs3Q-gtz_GykVkjZIwH4UaZnl3VxvRGPo0BsqFMWHC5wlk6z5BV3ObuM7plYpoPmp66FQe3s2jWX755zcGdQ8v3TSb/s1600/TLGCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLI-aN7cO5ri92dL-Bn2308vgztpM0n8ZE2pQHQ07p7w54UTMyoQzs3Q-gtz_GykVkjZIwH4UaZnl3VxvRGPo0BsqFMWHC5wlk6z5BV3ObuM7plYpoPmp66FQe3s2jWX755zcGdQ8v3TSb/s320/TLGCover.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
<br />
Here's the scoop:<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b>Book Name:</b> The Long Game</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b>Book Genre:</b> NA Contemporary</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b>Book release date</b>: October 7, 2013</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7173188.J_L_Fynn">Add The Long Game on Goodreads!</a></b> </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s3"><b>The Long Game book blurb</b></span><span class="s4"><i>: </i></span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1">Smooth talking. Ambitious. Loyal. Twenty-year-old Shay Reilly has proven himself to his Irish-American Gypsy clan on small-scale cons, but now the clan leader has a bigger mission for him: playing the long game.<br />
<br />
To rake in the big score he’s after, he needs to con co-ed Spencer into falling in love with him. He knows he should see Spencer as a mere means to an end, but that’s easier said than done when there’s a witty, attractive girl in your arms.<br />
<br />
Now the only thing that can keep them apart is the thing that brought them together: Shay’s plans of revenge against someone who wronged his clan and family years before—Spencer’s father.</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s3"><b>About the author J.L. Fynn: </b></span><span class="s1">J.L. Fynn is the public face of a private identity. She enjoys making up stories about iniquitous heroes, providing Delphic answers to unasked questions, and obfuscating the truth just for laughs. But then, what’s an author but a professional liar? If you </span><span class="s3">send her an email she might let you in on her little secret—assuming she likes your moxie.</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s3"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7173188.J_L_Fynn">J.L. Fynn on Goodreads</a> </b></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b><a href="https://twitter.com/JLFynnauthor">J.L. Fynn on Twitter</a></b></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/jlfynnauthor">J.L. Fynn on Facebook</a></b></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b><a href="http://www.jlfynn.com/">J.L. Fynn on the web</a></b></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><b>Join in on the buzz! </b></span></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><b><br />
The Long Game is looking for readers and bloggers for the upcoming book blog tour October 7th – October 20th!</b></span></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"><a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/15yEwhz8iRXRDsvAitDHjZ-9J8Xer62moYpQQgOOPJ3o/viewform">Sign up to join in on the buzz surrounding The Long Game!</a></span></div>
<br />
<div class="p9">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-67289106313932416802013-08-27T05:19:00.000-07:002013-08-27T05:19:00.689-07:00Cover Reveal -- Found in YouI am beyond delighted to share a second cover reveal with you this week!<br />
<br />
And it's hot.<br />
<br />
So hot.<br />
<br />
Behold the lovely <a href="http://www.laurelinpaige.com/">Laurelin Paige</a>'s cover--designed by fabulous Sophia Bleu--for Found in You:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhig8IbpBWuKRK0INV81qFWzTKhkpiQ2zBFb8WsSI8dfJP_UOONI3uGZ_UaSKL2eyfpc-RrRuTaRAVqsGNr_AP1nnANBH7Ncz9Y15yaGBBwTDP_m1XCph6iCV1u0wIpMdwN7i5QxsfV5Vu7/s1600/Found+in+You+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhig8IbpBWuKRK0INV81qFWzTKhkpiQ2zBFb8WsSI8dfJP_UOONI3uGZ_UaSKL2eyfpc-RrRuTaRAVqsGNr_AP1nnANBH7Ncz9Y15yaGBBwTDP_m1XCph6iCV1u0wIpMdwN7i5QxsfV5Vu7/s320/Found+in+You+Cover.jpg" width="192" /></a></div>
<br />
And trust me, the story is just as sizzling as the cover, maybe even more so.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17930773-found-in-you">Add it on Goodreads!</a><br />
<br />
So here's the official stuff...<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><b>Title:</b></span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> Found in You (Fixed, #2)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><b>Author:</b></span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> Laurelin Paige<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><b>Genre:</b></span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> Contemporary Romance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><b>Age Group:</b></span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> Adult<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><b>Cover designed by:</b></span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> Sophia Bleu<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><b>Expected release date:</b></span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> Oct. 1, 2013<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><b>Cover reveal organized by</b></span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">: <a href="http://atomrbookblogtours.com/">AToMR Tours</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><b>Book Description: <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="background: #FFFEFF; line-height: 14.25pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt;">Alayna Withers has only had one kind of relationship: the
kind that makes her obsessive and stalker-crazy. Now that Hudson Pierce has let
her into his heart, she’s determined to break down the remaining walls between
them so they can build a foundation that’s based on more than just amazing sex.
Except Hudson’s not the only one with secrets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: #FFFEFF; line-height: 14.25pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt;">With their pasts pulling them into a web of unfounded
mistrust, Alayna turns to the one person who knows Hudson the best—Celia, the
woman he almost married. Hoping for insight from someone who understands all sides
of the story, Alayna forms a bond with Celia that goes too far—revealing things
about Hudson that could end their love for good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: #FFFEFF; line-height: 14.25pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt;">This is the first relationship where Alayna hasn’t
spiraled out of control. And she might lose Hudson anyway…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: #FFFEFF; line-height: 14.25pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><b>About the Author<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Laurelin Paige is a sucker
for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the
embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain,
however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing,
watching Mad Men and the Walking Dead, or dreaming of Adam Levine. She is
represented by the wonderful Bob Diforio of D4EO Literary Agency.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Author social media links:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/laurelinpaige">Facebook</a> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17930773-found-in-you">Goodreads</a> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><a href="http://www.twitter.com/laurelinpaige">Twitter</a> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/laurelinpaige">Pinterest</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 19.09090805053711px;">And there's a giveaway!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; text-indent: -0.25in;"> 1 $25 Gift Certificate</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-left: .25in;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt;"> 5 Advanced Reader Copies of <i>Found
in You </i></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt;">(Fixed, #2)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-left: .25in;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt;"> 5 e-copies of <i>Fixed on You </i></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt;">(Fixed, #1)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/61c0a18/" id="rc-61c0a18" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-7481734913025835332013-08-26T06:03:00.002-07:002013-08-26T06:03:56.879-07:00Speak Low Cover Reveal & Giveaway!The day is here and I get to share with you the gorgeous cover of Speak Low, the sequel to Speak Easy!<br />
<br />
My designer, Tom Barnes, did a fantastic job matching the feel of the second cover to the first, don't you think? I love looking at them together!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQhLmiBOqQrMgHyyd0dPnzDNNUXZAPNhhpkHdEUtSJgD7Xn6-5al5SOrDBuJ-Cd_KnZMoFnUXGAXizLlTMoPyPBWx0TFwgtlef6JCUvWT5Juk6o5fA84JKXEoGoxQGSJ14ek2udrKPgFC/s1600/Speak+Low+Cover+Final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQhLmiBOqQrMgHyyd0dPnzDNNUXZAPNhhpkHdEUtSJgD7Xn6-5al5SOrDBuJ-Cd_KnZMoFnUXGAXizLlTMoPyPBWx0TFwgtlef6JCUvWT5Juk6o5fA84JKXEoGoxQGSJ14ek2udrKPgFC/s320/Speak+Low+Cover+Final.jpg" width="198" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So who is it? ;)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My Speak Easy readers (and oh, how I love you) can probably tell you where the boy is supposed to be, but even they disagree on WHO it is...you'll have to read the book to see!<br />
<br />
The release date is set for November 4th, 2013.<br />
<br />
Here's the book description, although this may change slightly...<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">We always want what we can’t have.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Tiny O’Mara is tired of living in a world where men make all the rules. After bootlegging enough whiskey to free her father from the DiFiore crime family, twenty-year old Tiny is determined to gain her independence.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">But it’s going to cost her.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Her alliance with sultry Enzo DiFiore is based more on their explosive chemistry than loyalty or trust. But she’s promised him some information that will help him take revenge on The River Gang, and when he offers her a job, an apartment, and the prospect of nights spent together where anything goes, she can’t refuse—which only puts her further in his debt.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">She needs gorgeous childhood pal Joey Lupo to help her again—when they’re not at each other’s throats, they make a good team, and her attraction for him is becoming impossible to deny. But after she rejects his offer to leave town together, he’s tempted to let her fend for herself.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">As Enzo’s need for possession and power escalate and her feelings for Joey deepen, Tiny realizes her mistakes. She just hopes she gets the chance to fix them before it’s too late.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18.99147605895996px;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18375100-speak-low">Add it on Goodreads!</a></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18.99147605895996px;"><br /></span>And here's the giveaway...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/19fbe21/" id="rc-19fbe21" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script><br />
<br />
Good luck!<br />
<br />
Cheers,<br />
MelanieAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-9208349077775444542013-08-24T16:27:00.000-07:002013-08-24T16:27:07.962-07:00Announcing Team Harlow!<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Whether you're Team Enzo or Team Joey, I want you on Team Harlow! </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm gathering a tiny (haha) street team this week to help me promote Speak Easy and Speak Low. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">In return you'll get free ARCs, swag, eBooks or signed copies for giveaways, and my eternal devotion. I will also buy you a drink should we ever meet in person! </span><i class="_4-k1 img sp_dpr65p sx_fbbabe" style="background-color: white; background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yT/r/3iifGvVHQnh.png); background-position: -17px -683px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #333333; display: inline-block; height: 16px; line-height: 18px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm keeping the team small for now, so email me at melanieharlowwrites@gmail.com or <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMelanieHarlow?bookmark_t=page">message me on Facebook</a> if you'd like to be included.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Or you can comment below with your email address and I will get in touch!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
Thank you!<br />
<br />
Cheers,<br />
MelanieAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-52912015298730606422013-08-05T15:53:00.000-07:002013-08-05T15:53:19.866-07:00Cover ShenanigansOK, OK. I heard you.<br />
<br />
You missed the girl with the red lips and the sexy blue-eyed stare and the Prohibition-era feel.<br />
<br />
I missed her too. So I brought the old cover back.<br />
<br />
It was actually really nice to hear from so many people who--very kindly, I will add...yay for manners and civility--said they "got" why I thought I should change the cover but preferred the original version.<br />
<br />
And I agree. The original cover is less overtly sexy, but I think it does a good job of giving a potential reader the feel of the book and a look at the main character. From the moment I first saw that photo, I knew I'd found my Tiny.<br />
<br />
So she's back! And pretty soon, the cover for the sequel, Speak Low, will be revealed.<br />
<br />
There may be abs involved...<br />
<br />
Cheers!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-74769020379280266422013-07-29T04:18:00.001-07:002013-08-05T15:53:38.901-07:00This is Not Your Nana's Historical Romance (Sexy Excerpt of SPEAK EASY)WARNING: This post contains adult content. (Pretty much all sins are covered.)<br />
<br />
Hello darlings,<br />
<br />
So the craziest thing happened last week.<br />
<br />
Speak Easy came out. People read it (wheee!) and loved it (I want to hug you!) and reviewed it (thank you!). I got to hear readers' thoughts for the first time ever--readers who are not my family/friends/bartender.<br />
<br />
And I discovered something. Well, a few things.<br />
<br />
1) New Adult readers are reluctant to pick up up a non-contemporary romantic story.<br />
<br />
2) Historical is a dusty word.<br />
<br />
3) Once people DID pick up Speak Easy, they were surprised at how sexy and modern it felt, even though it was set during the 20s.<br />
<br />
What's a girl to do?<br />
<br />
Since Speak Easy is my first book, I turned to bestselling authors who have more experience and asked advice--and because this community is so awesome, I got it. Here's what they said...<br />
<br />
<b>Change your cover and your description. Make it clear it's not your grandmother's historical novel. It's a hot smexy read and readers of contemporary New Adult will eat it up when they realize the historical setting only adds to the sexy feel. </b><br />
<br />
So guess what I did?<br />
<br />
And while I loved my pretty cover (and if you order the print version, you will still get that one), my sexy one makes me giddy like a Bombay Sapphire martini (extra dry, two olives, thanks).<br />
<br />
Want to see it?<br />
<br />
OK, just for you.<br />
<br />
Because I'm all about giving in to temptation. ;)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHq_t4EMzVhSD6GrOab_1Oy33uvfN4xDmFx1nj_MbWvzDkmOLyKtDOt7xMs8FcONz6wu42mgBcXvK1BNp9Sp25rvnwsWvsgvc4C4D7D6CJW4UFaPP5G2t7h7IDtEAf-DsZUsvWg5RHISxs/s1600/SpeakEasyNew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHq_t4EMzVhSD6GrOab_1Oy33uvfN4xDmFx1nj_MbWvzDkmOLyKtDOt7xMs8FcONz6wu42mgBcXvK1BNp9Sp25rvnwsWvsgvc4C4D7D6CJW4UFaPP5G2t7h7IDtEAf-DsZUsvWg5RHISxs/s320/SpeakEasyNew.jpg" width="192" /></a></div>
<br />
And here's the new description...<br />
<br />
<b>**Warning** This is not your grandmother’s historical romance. If you’re looking for blushing maidens or proper gentlemen who ask permission to kiss the girl, this is not the book for you.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>But if you like strong female heroines who take what they want and sexy dangerous men who can’t be trusted, look no further. If sizzling sexual tension and fast-paced action against a backdrop of Prohibition-era ambience sounds like your kind of cocktail—enter here. But beware…</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Temptation is everywhere. And anything goes.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>By day twenty-year-old Tiny O’Mara works for her father’s smalltime bootlegging operation, and by night she craves the roll-your-stockings-down lifestyle of a flapper—until her father is kidnapped by a mobster in Detroit's exploding organized crime scene, and it’s Tiny who has to come up with the ten-thousand-dollar ransom…in one week.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Suddenly she’s thrust into an intoxicating underworld of greed, lust, lies, and betrayal.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Enzo DiFiore is the son of the mobster holding her father hostage, but his screen idol looks and dangerous charm leave her breathless. When the forbidden spark between them refuses to burn out, she tries to use their powerful chemistry to buy more time. And irritatingly handsome childhood pal Joey Lupo has the street smarts Tiny needs to make a quick ten grand, but he’s got his own agenda where gang rivalries are concerned.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Deciding whom to trust isn’t easy in a world where everyone wants something—be it booze, money, power, or sex—and no one cares what it takes to get it.</b><br />
<br />
Now, are you ready for a little Monday morning sizzle?<br />
<br />
Good.<br />
<br />
Here's an excerpt--an early scene between Tiny, the feisty heroine, and Enzo, her dangerous bad boy.<br />
<br />
<b>“Satisfied?” He set the phone down and raised his eyebrows at me.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>“I guess.” At least I knew Daddy was still alive, and conscious enough to speak on the phone. My job now was to get the money. But even if I sold the twelve cases I’d pick up tomorrow night, I’d need to sell seventeen more to come up with five grand by Tuesday. It couldn’t be done—I needed more time. But what leverage did I have to bargain with? I looked at Enzo, my mind and heart racing.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<i><b>No. You can’t.</b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<b>“We should go. I promised to return you within twenty minutes.” Enzo gave me that slow smile, which made my belly go hollow. “And I do rather value those body parts your friend threatened.”</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>“Right.” I licked my lips as I walked to the door, and Enzo waited until I reached it before turning off the lamp. His silhouette came closer in the darkness, and my insides tightened.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<i><b>Oh yes, I can.</b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<b>“If you’ll move, I’ll unlock the door,” he said.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Fear and some other untamable feeling buzzed through me. “No.”</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>“No?”</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>“We still have five minutes.” I rushed forward and threw my arms around his neck, crushing my lips to his. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>For a moment he was stunned; I heard his keys hit the floor. Then strong arms locked around my back, and his mouth opened wide over mine, his tongue lashing inside with deep, demanding strokes. My body ignited in a way I hadn’t anticipated. <i>Keep your senses. This is just a ploy. You’re angry with him. </i>Our mouths battled each other with such ferocity I couldn’t breathe, and I imagined the fire between us consuming all the oxygen in the room. He tasted like temptation—whisky and smoke.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Pressing my forearms against his shoulders, I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist. Enzo pushed my back up against the door, his hands slipping beneath my dress to the undersides of my legs, his fingers gripping the bare skin above my stockings. Gasping, I squeezed his torso between my thighs as his mouth traveled across my face and down my neck. His fingers edged inside the lace of my step-in, teasing the soft pink folds at my center while his tongue lingered in the hollow at the base of my throat. Something deep and powerful surged within me. Threading my fingers through his dark hair, I pulled his head back and we stared hard at each other before our mouths slammed together once more. He shifted my weight under one arm and found the side fasteners of my dress with the other. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Somehow, he undid seven hooks and eyes with one hand. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>His fingers slipped inside my dress and pressed against the bare skin on my lower back. Then he swung me away from the door and moved to the desk, setting me on its edge with my dress bunched up around my hips. Standing between my knees, he ran his hands up my pale white thighs, which glowed in the dark above my stockings. My chest heaved with ragged breaths as he shrugged off his coat and loosened his tie. My hands itched to touch him, to travel under starched cotton and over hot skin, to reach low and feel exactly how he wanted me. To know for certain what he could to do to me, if I let him. For a moment, I forgot every circumstance that brought me here and nearly reached for the buttons on his trousers.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>But just for a moment.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>“Enzo,” I whispered instead, gripping the edge of the desk. “We can’t.”</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>He put his hands on my buttocks and pulled me flush against him. “You said we had five minutes.” He pressed the hard length of his cock between my legs.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><i>Oh God, that feels so good.</i> I struggled for control. “It’s been five minutes. And neither of us wants to get caught here.”</b><br />
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<b>He paused. “You’re right. Besides, what I’d like to do to you takes more than five minutes.” </b></div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
OK, I'd better stop them there...but I promise you they get more than five minutes alone eventually. They get a whole lot more than that. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Want to know what they do with it?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Speak-Easy-ebook/dp/B00DY73DF0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1374414519&sr=8-1&keywords=Speak+Easy+Kindle">Easy. Click.</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Cheers,</div>
<div>
Melanie</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-80163355782463171842013-07-26T04:23:00.002-07:002013-07-26T04:23:40.788-07:00Speak Easy Release Tour Giveaway!Hello, darlings!<br />
<br />
This week has been very exciting--I love reading the reviews of Speak Easy and hearing things like "It's Boardwalk Empire: Detroit" or "I couldn't put it down!"<br />
<br />
Before I decided to publish independently, I had NO IDEA how much reviews help authors. Thank you to everyone who's reading and reviewing. You're the best!<br />
<br />
And I truly love hearing all the declarations for Team Enzo and Team Joey, or that the steamy scenes were smokin' hot. My goal was 1) to entertain you and 2) to turn you on. ;)<br />
<br />
Goodreads winners, your books are shipping out today--they're going to Australia, the UK, and all over the US. Hope you enjoy! The NAmazing Adventure Quest 3 winner will also get their package shortly too.<br />
<br />
If you didn't win one of those books, enter the giveaway below for fabulous flapper swag (see last week's Flapper Friday post) and a signed paperback copy. Good luck!<br />
<br />
<br />
<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/0dd00150/" id="rc-0dd00150" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-27857588866317841832013-07-19T04:41:00.000-07:002013-07-19T05:19:14.231-07:00Flapper Friday -- Speak Easy Swag & Release Tour ScheduleHappy Friday!<br />
<br />
Those of you on the NAmazing Adventure, please click the banner on the right to be directed to my NAA post, and good luck!<br />
<br />
Those of you here for a bit of modern flapper swag, allow me.<br />
<br />
In honor of SPEAK EASY's *official* release week, which kicks off (*officially*) on Monday with a blog tour (schedule below), I'm giving away a grand prize swag pack!<br />
<br />
(Psssst. Over here. Yeah, you. *Official* release is Monday. You want it early? Come around the corner. I've got what you want, and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Speak-Easy-everywhere-Melanie-Harlow/dp/1489515909/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1374233162&sr=8-1&keywords=speak+easy+melanie+harlow">here's the password</a>.)<br />
<br />
<b>The Speak Easy Modern Flapper Grand Prize Swag Pack contains...</b><br />
<br />
1) Women's baby doll tee and chrome flask from <a href="http://www.valentinevodka.com/home.html">Valentine Vodka</a>--made in Detroit!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3u7X2LdGRh5OX3vQSFPRISDkAYWMmoicIlmyVHvaRWLtvayOSQufRwG244SOoaAf9YZdpZcxLWr4gtBwj6jhSgTMbOa3v7o4ZepwyNKZ-Z-84Eb9SIkJTYq2FOD7ZGF6inZzNjllna_w/s1600/IMG_1175.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3u7X2LdGRh5OX3vQSFPRISDkAYWMmoicIlmyVHvaRWLtvayOSQufRwG244SOoaAf9YZdpZcxLWr4gtBwj6jhSgTMbOa3v7o4ZepwyNKZ-Z-84Eb9SIkJTYq2FOD7ZGF6inZzNjllna_w/s320/IMG_1175.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
2) Agatha bracelet from <a href="http://www.jewelninjas.com/">JewelNinjas</a>--totally art deco in style!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmnfuONWitA_WZJSquEonvDtbzr-bjySXuVL4DuEO0cofee-NVuov4CFt-Fyb2r4T5UOB7707YDPqJ37AHJD4uQl39kc87TyfKRDrabsvlKrRx1880P7w7SrH2-iFjrOySOtySbFnXeJKd/s1600/dsc_25_medium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmnfuONWitA_WZJSquEonvDtbzr-bjySXuVL4DuEO0cofee-NVuov4CFt-Fyb2r4T5UOB7707YDPqJ37AHJD4uQl39kc87TyfKRDrabsvlKrRx1880P7w7SrH2-iFjrOySOtySbFnXeJKd/s1600/dsc_25_medium.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
3) Red lipstick by MAC (perfect for making those bee-stung lips...lesson coming soon)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Lfcpd88HQ0DUVtM9lC7QXwIuxIZPgvS2xpm14d4a9uqwhHr301Ox1JgEJPwXuoQhM_J9gb_wFkJ3Cx_iPxDnz0QEf4fEEgCvuEbJVMt_QgTLNQl4yPkOlsaV-wMK13VcMSQ2wLtUZFCr/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Lfcpd88HQ0DUVtM9lC7QXwIuxIZPgvS2xpm14d4a9uqwhHr301Ox1JgEJPwXuoQhM_J9gb_wFkJ3Cx_iPxDnz0QEf4fEEgCvuEbJVMt_QgTLNQl4yPkOlsaV-wMK13VcMSQ2wLtUZFCr/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" /></a></div>
<br />
4) Great Gatsby Soundtrack (or $10 iTunes gift card...winner's choice)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd1ASvaDeHhOCxFn_x26OfBJ57QEeGvm-oxCxxCdCEDMYKX2hu17SCP2WSstMY7KhM9UBG9fvvXiGTIbZJc0IOQZ2SZHN5ZLrN0q_wHtTvBwfmYFqep8qb1LlXiAmbjHL4zH8F_rhhPgbB/s1600/The-Great-Gatsby-Soundtrack-Album-Cover-Deluxe1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd1ASvaDeHhOCxFn_x26OfBJ57QEeGvm-oxCxxCdCEDMYKX2hu17SCP2WSstMY7KhM9UBG9fvvXiGTIbZJc0IOQZ2SZHN5ZLrN0q_wHtTvBwfmYFqep8qb1LlXiAmbjHL4zH8F_rhhPgbB/s320/The-Great-Gatsby-Soundtrack-Album-Cover-Deluxe1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some explicit content. Just like the book. ;)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
5) Gatsby Style Flapper Headband--for your Daisy Buchanan moments...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyAa8RnMLRC7ycdx1D69vkZgskGdPYJ7-IBO5aN7VQKgLxg4a9mtFlZGhdaoi1eeTEYNjct0j3kBYahrx742Vni8SCyh0XeQVbBc_BobKR2EaOHpWnwFOrfF2pwMBOXU2q-YGnc4rsaUV/s1600/gatsby-hair.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyAa8RnMLRC7ycdx1D69vkZgskGdPYJ7-IBO5aN7VQKgLxg4a9mtFlZGhdaoi1eeTEYNjct0j3kBYahrx742Vni8SCyh0XeQVbBc_BobKR2EaOHpWnwFOrfF2pwMBOXU2q-YGnc4rsaUV/s320/gatsby-hair.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
6) Signed Copy of Speak Easy<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHbhYstlBIsEnFwJrerx0pLPuLhMzCuiYpO4mLuEOyrtHuYf1szjm8eFuN1liM3IssQXkx7xMFLKpv0tWxHgab41IjQcX3Put_A7fl3OvR0U_44XaEePCfoNcx6WzyR1arwjwtFYUIrtLf/s1600/Speak+Easy+Cover+Final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHbhYstlBIsEnFwJrerx0pLPuLhMzCuiYpO4mLuEOyrtHuYf1szjm8eFuN1liM3IssQXkx7xMFLKpv0tWxHgab41IjQcX3Put_A7fl3OvR0U_44XaEePCfoNcx6WzyR1arwjwtFYUIrtLf/s320/Speak+Easy+Cover+Final.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
7) $25 Amazon or Barns & Noble Gift Card<br />
<br />
Tempted? Good. :)<br />
<br />
Stop by one of these blogs next week and enter for your chance to win!<br />
<br />
<b>Speak Easy Release Tour Schedule</b><br />
<br />
Monday, July 22, 2013:<br />
<a href="http://donniedarkogirl.blogspot.com/">Donnie Darko Girl</a><br />
<a href="http://mereadalot.com/">Mel & Erin Read A Lot</a><br />
<a href="http://princess-paperback.blogspot.com/">Paperback Princess</a><br />
<a href="http://seekingbookboyfriends.com/">Seeking Book Boyfriends</a><br />
<a href="http://lifeasabookaddict.blogspot.com/">The Life & Times of a Book Addict</a><br />
<a href="http://www.theluvnv.com/">The LUV'NV</a><br />
<a href="http://thenaturalauthors.blogspot.com/">The NAturals</a><br />
<a href="http://winebooksnfringe.wordpress.com/">Wine, Books & Fringe</a><br />
<br />
Tuesday, July 23, 2013:<br />
<a href="http://lilybloombooks.wordpress.com/">Lilybloombooks</a><br />
<a href="http://www.readingpassion03.blogspot.com/">Peace, Love, Books</a><br />
<a href="http://readingbookslikeaboss.com/">Reading Books Like a Boss</a><br />
<a href="http://drwrnmk.blogspot.com/">Wine relaxation and my kindle</a><br />
<a href="http://breatheinbooks.blogspot.com/">Breathe In Books</a><br />
<br />
Wednesday, July 24, 2013:<br />
<a href="http://romanticbookaffairs.blogspot.com/?m=0">Romantic Book Affairs</a><br />
<a href="http://whatshereads.com/">Whatshereads</a><br />
<a href="http://www.ataleofmanyreviews.com/">A Tale of Many Reviews</a><br />
<br />
Thursday, July 25, 2013:<br />
<a href="http://bookwhirlwind.blogspot.com/">Bookwhirlwind</a><br />
<a href="http://www.fallingforya.blogspot.com/">Falling for YA</a><br />
<a href="http://whatdanielledidnext.com/">What Danielle Did Next</a><br />
<a href="http://totalbooknerds.com/">Total Book Nerds</a><br />
<a href="http://beautybutafunnygirl.blogspot.com/">Beauty but a Funny Girl</a><br />
<br />
Friday, July 26, 2013:<br />
<a href="http://www.kvlovesbooks.blogspot.co.uk/">All In One Place</a><br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://alphasauthorsbooksohmy.blogspot.com/">Alphas Authors & Books Oh My</a></span><span class="s2"> </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://www.booksliveforever.com/">Books Live Forever</a></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://www.brittanyandbiancablabbooks.blogspot.com/">Brittany and Bianca Blab Books</a></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://rolopolobookblog.com/">RoloPoloBookBlog</a></span><span class="s2"> </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s3"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s3"><b>Saturday, July 27, 2013:</b></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://debdebreviews.wordpress.com/">Deb Deb Reviews</a></span><span class="s2"> </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://everyfreechance.com/">Every Free Chance Book Reviews</a></span><span class="s2"> </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://fallinginfall.blogspot.com/">Falling in Fall</a></span><span class="s2"> </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://www.jeneesbookblog.com/">Jenee's Book Blog</a></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://hookmeupbookblog.blogspot.com.au/">Hook Me Up Book Blog</a></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://www.thebookbar.co/">The Book Bar</a></span></div>
<br />
I'll also post more fun Speak Easy stuff and the giveaway link here next week as well! Thank you, and good luck!<br />
<br />
Cheers,<br />
Melanie<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-986053670387478612013-07-16T08:09:00.000-07:002013-07-16T08:12:10.435-07:00Tempt Me Tuesday...Speak Easy's Chapter OneHello darlings!<br />
<br />
First, if you're looking for my NAmazing Adventure post, <a href="http://www.melanieharlowwrites.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-namazing-adventure.html">CLICK HERE</a>.<br />
<br />
For Speak Easy's first chapter, just read on...I hope it tempts you to want more. :)<br />
<br />
<br />
Chapter One<br />
<br />
Friday, July 13th, 1923<br />
<br />
The woman approached me at the counter, keeping her eyes low. “A quart of maple syrup,” she said, her voice hushed.<br />
<br />
I didn’t recognize her. “What kind?”<br />
<br />
“Canadian.” Clutching her purse to her stomach, she peeked at me from beneath the brim of her hat.<br />
<br />
“What are you making?”<br />
<br />
“Griddlecakes.”<br />
<br />
I nodded. If she’d answered waffles, or even pancakes, I’d have directed her to the east wall of the store, where tin cans of actual maple syrup were stacked three high on a shelf. But since she knew the password, I named our price and took down the order and her address. She’d get her whisky in a day or so.<br />
<br />
Bootlegging was that simple for a small operation like ours. The customers were loyal, the neighborhood grocery store was a legitimate cover, and thanks to the narrow waterway separating Detroit from Canada and its distilleries, our whisky supply seemed endless. Timely payoffs assured us of little trouble from city officials, and the local cops were some of our best customers. So when the bell over Jefferson Market’s front door jangled again that afternoon, I greeted the customer with a smile. But as the well-dressed man removed his light gray fedora and walked toward me at the back of the store, the air took on a strange charge, and gooseflesh rippled across my skin.<br />
<br />
It was him. <i>The sheik.</i><br />
<br />
He’d been in twice in the last week. Each time, he’d said practically nothing, bought one pack of Fatima cigarettes, and paid with a fifty-dollar bill. I thought of him as the sheik because he reminded me of a movie star: dark, silent, and handsome in that delighted-villain sort of way, as if he’d just tied a girl to the train tracks and now it was time for a cocktail and a smoke.<br />
<br />
“Good afternoon.” His voice was deep and smooth, just how I imagined a screen idol’s should be.<br />
“Are you Miss O’Mara?”<br />
<br />
I blinked. <i>He knows my name.</i> “Yes. Can I help you?”<br />
<br />
“Give this to your father.” He pulled an envelope from his coat and laid it on the counter, next to the cash register. When I reached for it, he placed his hand over mine, pinning it to the cool marble. A buzz swept up my arm as our eyes met. His were so dark they appeared black, and a small scar rested at the top of one cheekbone. “Tell him to answer by tonight.”<br />
<br />
It took me a moment to find my voice. “All right.”<br />
<br />
Replacing his hat on top of his slick dark hair, he walked out without looking back. The bell jangled once more, and I released the breath I’d been holding, leaning on the counter for support. I jumped when I heard a voice behind me.<br />
<br />
“Tiny?” My older sister Bridget poked her head in from the stockroom, her long brown hair coming loose from its knot at her nape. “Daddy’s ready for you to make deliveries.”<br />
<br />
Quickly I swiped the envelope into the front pocket of my middy blouse. “Should I go now?”<br />
<br />
“Just let me put the bread in the oven,” Bridget said, disappearing into the stockroom again. She and her children lived in the apartment over the store. At almost twenty-one, I was more than ready to move out of our father’s house and get my own apartment, but it would have to wait. There were two more daughters after me who needed tending, and with our mother gone and Bridget widowed with three young boys, I wasn’t going anywhere soon.<br />
<br />
While I waited, I fingered the envelope in my pocket. The sheik said Daddy had to answer by tonight, but what was the question? Was he a bootlegger too? He looked a little older than me, but still in his twenties, and wealthy, if his clothing was any indication. He wore exquisite three-piece suits. First black, then blue, and today, gray. I looked at the back of my hand, where he’d touched me, then brought it to my lips.<br />
<br />
“What are you doing?” Bridget’s voice startled me again, and she laughed.<br />
<br />
Cheeks burning, I tucked my hand into my pocket. “Nothing. Can I go?”<br />
<br />
She nodded. “I’ll bring the grocery sacks out to you in the alley.”<br />
<br />
I exited through the stock room into the wet heat of a Michigan summer afternoon. In the alley, I pulled the envelope from my pocket and looked at it. Jack O’Mara was written on its ivory face in black ink, the cursive letters small and lean. The seal was tight. No way to tell what its contents were, no clue as to who the sheik might be or whom he worked for.<br />
<br />
Not that I much cared about his occupation.<br />
<br />
<i> If he comes in again, I’ll say hello first</i>, I thought, recalling those dark eyes that smoldered like Valentino’s. “Hi, there,” I said, practicing. No, too girlish. I cleared my throat and tried again, imagining how a sultry screen vamp like Theda Bara would greet a man like the sheik. “Hel<i>lo</i>.” Yes, that was better. Deeper, more mature.<br />
<br />
Next, I tried to even out my walk so that I could <i>slink</i> into a room, cigarette holder in one hand, highball in the other. But slinking was a bit difficult for me because one of my legs is shorter than the other, not that either of them is what you’d call long. My mother was so small she had difficult births, and my hip broke as I was being born. It hadn’t healed right, resulting in a one-inch difference, and I have to concentrate if I don’t want to limp, especially if I’m tired. But if I smoothed out my gait, kept my weight back and my chin down, bent my knees a little…<br />
<br />
Damn. Slinking was harder than it looked.<br />
<br />
Giving up, I jogged the rest of the way down the alley and pushed open the door to the garage. Once my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw Daddy taking apart the back end of a Cadillac hearse.<br />
Officially, he was an auto repairman, but his real talent was rebuilding cars—creating hidden compartments, phony gas tanks, false floorboards. It was amazing how many bottles of booze could be stashed in the unseen lining of an automobile. Hearses were especially popular with bootleggers because they had wide back ends, but I stuck with my Model T. Those hearses were <i>creepy</i>.<br />
<br />
“I’m here!” I called over the banging of his hammer.<br />
<br />
The noise stopped and he straightened halfway, bracing his hands on the hearse’s frame and tilting his chin toward me over one shoulder. His profile revealed the crooked line of his nose, which had been broken several times. “It’s over there. Can you load it?” He jerked his head toward two large boxes labeled Royal Baking Powder sitting on the cement floor near the door.<br />
<br />
“Sure.”<br />
<br />
“That’s my girl. Fifteen per bottle, and don’t take less.”<br />
<br />
“I won’t. This came for you.” I moved closer to him and held out the envelope. “The man who brought it said you should answer by tonight.”<br />
<br />
He took it from me, barely glancing at it before shoving it into the front pocket of his work overalls. “To hell with that. I don’t answer to him or anybody else.”<br />
<br />
“What’s this about?”<br />
<br />
“It’s nothing. Now go on, I’ll meet you at the boathouse at six sharp. I want to get the whole place cleared out, bring it all here.”<br />
<br />
I nodded. That could take a while. We had a lot of booze stashed in that boathouse, probably enough to—<br />
<br />
“What the hell do you want, a police escort?” He waved his hammer toward the door. “Get moving!”<br />
<br />
“OK, OK. Jeez,” I muttered, hurrying over to the boxes loaded with whisky bottles. Daddy had a quick temper, but he wasn’t usually so short with me. Either it was something about the letter, or he owed money to his bookie. His business ventures made enough to house, clothe, and feed us, but every extra dime fed his ravenous betting habit. <i>Every man has his temptations</i>, I supposed, slipping my fingers underneath a box. <i>And every woman too.</i> I could still hear the sheik’s low, velvety voice in my head. My stomach tightened as I imagined getting him out of that buttoned-up three-piece suit, removing that crisp white collar, slipping the crimson tie from around his neck. A sweat broke out on my back.<br />
I lugged the boxes just outside the door, then left them sitting there while I retrieved the car. Daddy and I shared a 1921 Model T Sedan he’d rigged with hidden compartments and a trunk with a false floor. <i>Jefferson Market</i> was painted on the side in cheerful white letters, and I always had bags of groceries in the back seat, just in case I got stopped. After pulling alongside the garage door, I turned off the motor and jumped out. I was leaning into the back lifting up the bench seat when I heard a deep voice behind me.<br />
<br />
“Excuse me.”<br />
<br />
My head snapped up, my heart hammering as I backed out. <i>Please don’t be a fed.</i> I turned around and sucked in my breath.<br />
<br />
The sheik was leaning against the brown brick wall, barely three feet from me.<br />
<br />
“What are you doing back here?” Definitely not the sultry greeting I’d rehearsed.<br />
<br />
“Looking for you.” He lit one of his Fatimas and held it between long fingers, the smoke curling above his head.<br />
<br />
“Why?”<br />
<br />
“I’m wondering if you can help me out. I need some whisky.”<br />
<br />
A trickle of sweat made its way down my chest. “What makes you think I can help you?”<br />
<br />
He put the Fatima to his mouth, inhaling and exhaling in no particular hurry. I stared at his lips as they closed and opened around the cigarette. “I listen carefully in a crowd.”<br />
<br />
I looked him over, trying to read his eyes, which were shadowed by the brim of his hat. “How much?”<br />
<br />
“Maybe ten cases. That too much for you?”<br />
<br />
I lifted my chin. “No.”<br />
<br />
“How much do you charge?”<br />
<br />
“Two hundred a case,” I said, quickly raising my price.<br />
<br />
“And how soon can I get it?”<br />
<br />
“As soon as you want it.”<br />
<br />
He lifted his brow. “Impressive. You bring it over in the car?”<br />
<br />
“Leave the details to me. You’ll get what you want.”<br />
<br />
One side of his mouth hooked up. “I always do.” He came off the wall, and I backed into the Ford to steady myself. I wished I hadn’t chosen my shabbiest blouse this morning. It used to be red but had faded to a mealy-tomato color. When his feet reached mine, he swayed forward, placing his hands on the car’s roof, one on either side of me. The air hummed between us, and every inch of my skin tingled with awareness of him. I let my lips fall open.<br />
<br />
His smile deepened. “I’ll be in touch, Miss O’Mara.” He straightened up, and with a tip of his hat, walked away.<br />
<br />
“Just a moment!” <i>Think of something—quick! </i>“May I have a cigarette?”<br />
<br />
Retracing his steps, he took a gold case from his coat pocket, opened it, and offered me a Fatima. I put it to my mouth. <i>His fingers have touched this.</i> His eyes held mine captive as he pulled out a lighter, and I jumped when the flame burst from its tip. Once the cigarette was lit, I took what I hoped looked like a deep and sultry drag.<br />
<br />
With a nod, he walked away again, and I could think of nothing to make him come back. Nothing smart and sophisticated, anyway.<br />
<br />
“Wait!” I called, shading my eyes from the sun. “What’s your name?”<br />
<br />
He looked at me over his shoulder, but only smiled with closed lips before disappearing around the corner.<br />
<br />
“Shit,” I said, kicking the tire of my car. I’d admitted too much for nothing in return. <i>And he knows my name. What the hell?</i> For all I knew he was going to sell my information to a prohi around the corner. I stared at the cigarette he’d given me, dragged on it, and swore again. “Shit, shit, shit.”<br />
<br />
“She smokes <i>and</i> she curses,” said a voice behind me. “Should I bring you a spittoon too?”<br />
<br />
I whipped around and saw Joey Lupo standing there with two grocery sacks in his arms and an irritating grin on his face. Joey was my age, some kind of cousin of Bridget’s late husband, Vince, and one of those guys whose big mouth is always trying to make up for his short stature. He once stole a pair of underwear from my dresser and charged the neighborhood boys a penny for a peek. Five years had passed, but I still hadn’t forgiven him.<br />
<br />
“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “I thought you went to Chicago.”<br />
<br />
“I’m back. You miss me?”<br />
<br />
I sucked on my cigarette and blew the smoke at him.<br />
<br />
His grin widened. “Still sugar-sweet. Some things never change.” He set the grocery sacks down and reached for a box. “Come on, Little Tomato, I’ll help you load.”<br />
<br />
“Don’t call me that.” I was just about to tell him I didn’t need his help when Daddy came out the garage door. Throwing the cigarette to the ground, I tried to fan away the smoke but wasn’t quick enough. Daddy let me work for his bootlegging operation but he was strangely old-fashioned about lipstick and smoking, and I didn’t want a lecture in front of Joey.<br />
<br />
“Frances Kathleen O’Mara, I told you no smoking and I meant it,” Daddy growled. “Your mother is turning in her grave, God rest her soul.” He crossed himself and looked skyward. “You see what these girls do to me, Mary?”<br />
<br />
I rolled my eyes, ignoring Joey’s infuriating chuckle. “I’m twenty years old, Daddy, not ten.”<br />
<br />
He glared at me. “You live under my roof, you follow my rules.”<br />
<br />
How badly I wanted to say <i>to hell with your roof and your rules—I’m done with them! </i>But I couldn’t. I chewed my bottom lip instead, my fists tight with frustration.<br />
<br />
“And Christ almighty, get going already. Here’s the orders.” Daddy dug a folded piece of paper from his pocket and shoved it at me before stalking back into the garage.<br />
<br />
“Still living at home, huh?” Joey didn’t even try to hide his amusement.<br />
<br />
“Shut up. If you came here to help, then get to it.” I picked up the second box, and we put the booze into the compartment beneath the rear seat, placing the grocery sacks on top. I started the car and looked at the list.<br />
<br />
“Where you headed?” Joey asked.<br />
<br />
“Smith, side door. Hix, back alley. Then Koehler. Last is Henshaw, and the housekeeper wants the delivery by four.” I wrinkled my nose and shoved the list back in my pocket. “The housekeeper. There goes my tip.”<br />
<br />
Joey laughed, dug in one pocket of his grubby black pants, and tossed me a candy bar. “Here—here’s a tip for you. EAT. You haven’t grown an inch in three years—in any direction!”<br />
<br />
Grimacing, I put the car in gear and moved forward, hoping I might run over his foot. Who the hell was Joey to talk? Maybe he’d filled out some since the last time I’d seen him, but he wasn’t<i> that </i>much taller than me. Four inches, tops. And that mop of mangy brown hair on his head made him look bigger than he was.<br />
<br />
As I turned out of the alley and headed north on Jefferson into Grosse Pointe, my unease about the conversation with the sheik returned. It was the same creepy-crawly feeling I get when I enter a room and just know there’s a spider in it somewhere, watching me. But I sold whisky almost every day of the year. Why should it be any different just because the customer was a little mysterious and a lot gorgeous? Still, I found myself glancing over both shoulders more than usual as I unloaded and collected payment.<br />
<br />
At the Smith and Hix houses I made a few dollars in tips, but Mrs. Koehler was five dollars short on her standing order. “Just bring it to the store as soon as you can, Mrs. Koehler,” I told her. She was a good customer, and we hated to lose anyone’s business. Some other bootlegger could come along tomorrow and try to undercut us.<br />
<br />
By four o’clock I was headed for the Henshaw estate, and the twitchy feeling was still with me, like an itch that refuses to go away even once it’s been scratched. But when you’re breaking the law on a daily basis, perhaps a bit of anxiety should come with the territory. Daddy always says good instincts are more important than good friends in our business.<br />
<br />
Rather than the stingy housekeeper, it was Mrs. Schmidt, the cook, who answered my knock at the kitchen door of the Henshaws’ lakefront mansion. When I greeted her, she welcomed me with a hug. Mrs. Schmidt had been close to my mother, who’d been a housemaid for the Henshaws before marrying my father. For a year after our mother died in childbirth with Mary Grace, Mrs. Schmidt brought meals to our house and spent her days off teaching Bridget and me to cook. As my sisters will attest, Bridget was the superior student.<br />
<br />
“How are you today, Mrs. Schmidt?”<br />
<br />
“Oh, I don’t like to complain,” she said, releasing me and rubbing the considerable width of her lower back. “But since you asked…”<br />
<br />
I hid a smile as she ran through a list of ailments, nodding and clucking my tongue in sympathy. Finally she paused to draw breath, and I put the grocery bags on the butcher block and carried in the last of the whisky, setting the box on the black and white tiled floor.<br />
<br />
“Thanks, love.” She brushed my hair off my face when I straightened. “Such a gorgeous color, this hair. Like sunlight through garnet. Why did you ever cut it off?”<br />
<br />
“Just easier this way. Less fuss.” <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<br />
“Your mother never minded the fuss of long hair.” Mrs. Schmidt crossed her arms. “And I don’t mind saying she wouldn’t have liked you cutting yours off.”<br />
<br />
“Yes, you’ve mentioned that.” <i>About a million times. </i>I nodded my head of improperly bobbed hair toward the whisky. “Shall I move it to the cellar for you?”<br />
<br />
“Leave it be, I’ll have the boy do it.” She paid me for the groceries, but Mr. Henshaw got his booze for free in exchange for allowing Daddy to use an old dock and boathouse at the edge of his property.<br />
<br />
“And before you go…” From a canister on a pantry shelf she took a bill and tucked it into my palm. “Mr. Henshaw said to give this to you.”<br />
<br />
When I saw it was a fifty, I gasped. “He did? Why?”<br />
<br />
“I may have let it slip about your paying your way through nursing school.”<br />
<br />
“Oh, Mrs. Schmidt, thank you!” I threw my arms around her globe-shaped middle and practically squeezed the life from her.<br />
<br />
“You’re welcome, girl. Now scoot, I’ve got the groceries to put away.” Laughing, she shooed me out the back door, and I skipped to my car.<br />
<br />
<i>Fifty dollars!</i> That would go a long way toward tuition and books. Classes would begin again in August, and they weren’t cheap. Daddy didn’t mind my going to nursing school as long as I kept the house running and my sisters in line, but he couldn’t be counted on to pay for anything. He claimed there was no money for it, but I suspected he didn’t offer much because the sooner I had my degree, the sooner he’d be on his own with the house and the girls. It took every ounce of restraint I had not to ask him about all the cash that ended up lining Ralph the Bookie’s pocket.<br />
<br />
Sitting behind the wheel, I looked at the crisp fifty in triumph before tucking it into my pocket along with the wrinkly dollars and spare change the other customers had given me. But as I drove back to the store, I began thinking of all the things I could buy with that much money—a smart new dress, something with beading or fringe. A darling little cloche or headband. A pair of satin shoes for dancing.<br />
<br />
And how many months’ rent would fifty bucks pay? I clenched my teeth. I didn’t need much—just a studio apartment with a little bath. My own space, in which I would do as I pleased, with no rules. I thought about the sheik, and the way he paid for his cigarettes with fifty-dollar bills. My pulse raced when I recalled how he’d leaned close to me, near enough for me to smell the smoke on his breath.<br />
<br />
After parking in the alley behind the store, I peeked into the front but saw Joey at the register, so I headed up the steps to Bridget’s apartment. The smell of fresh-baked bread hit me in the stairwell and my stomach growled when I saw the two loaves on the kitchen counter. “Bread’s done, help yourself,” Bridget called from the front room, where the radio played “I’m Nobody’s Baby.” Humming along, I cut two thick slices and slathered them with butter. Bridget’s cooking and baking skills trumped mine by a mile, and I nearly moaned as I sank my teeth into the doughy white softness. She wandered in a minute later with two-year old Charlie on her hip.<br />
<br />
“Oh, it’s you,” she said. “I thought it was Joey.”<br />
<br />
“Does that mean I have to put the bread back?” I mumbled, my mouth full.<br />
<br />
She smiled, which always changed her face from plain to pretty. “No, you can have some. Do you want some cold meat for a sandwich? Joey brought some ham from Eastern Market.”<br />
<br />
I shook my head and polished off the first slice. “I saw him downstairs. I thought he moved to Chicago.”<br />
<br />
She set Charlie on the yellow linoleum floor and sliced a piece of bread for him. “He did, but his mother took ill, and he’s worried about her. Wants to stay closer to home for a while. I know he’s not your favorite, but try to be nice. He’s family.”<br />
<br />
“He’s not <i>my</i> family.”<br />
<br />
“He’s a good guy.”<br />
<br />
“He’s a pain in the ass.”<br />
<br />
She pursed her lips as she handed Charlie the bread, and I decided to switch topics. “Look at this.” I licked my fingers and pulled the fifty-dollar bill from my pocket.<br />
<br />
Bridget wiped her hands on her stained apron and took the bill. “Jaypers cripes! Where’d you get that?”<br />
“From Mr. Henshaw, as a tip.” I picked up my second slice of bread and sank my teeth in. “But don’t tell Daddy.”<br />
<br />
Our eyes met, and I knew she understood. Bridget kept my tips for me, stashing them in a big yellow envelope underneath her mattress. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Daddy, but I felt safer with my tips out of the house. “Want me to put it with the rest?”<br />
<br />
I hesitated, the image of myself in a beaded dress and satin shoes vanishing in a puff of smoke. “I guess so.” Slumping into a chair at the round kitchen table, I dropped my forehead to the wood. “But boy, I wish I could be spending some of that money on something else. Like a new dress. Or shoes. Or rent.”<br />
<br />
She patted my shoulder before going into her bedroom, which was off the kitchen. “Is Daddy giving you a rough time?” she asked when she returned.<br />
<br />
I sat up and shrugged. “I’m twenty years old. I’m just tired of living with my father and having two little sisters underfoot all the time.”<br />
<br />
Bridget went to the stove and stirred something in a large copper pot. “You’ve got your own bedroom. That’s more than I had when I lived at home.”<br />
<br />
“So what? The only thing I do in it is read and sleep. And I can hardly even do that without one of the girls barging in on me.” I sat up straight and mimicked our sisters’ high-pitched voices. “Tiny, can you mend this blouse? Will you make my lunch? Can I wear your blue sweater? She’s bothering me! She’s following me! She hit me!”<br />
<br />
“Well, cheer up.” Bridget clacked the spoon on the edge of the pot and set it aside. “Molly will be done with school in three years, and by then Mary Grace will be old enough to look after herself. You’ll be free to do as you please.” She turned and waggled her brows at me. “Inside your bedroom and out.”<br />
<br />
“But that’s years away! I want a little excitement in my life now.” I thumped the table for emphasis.<br />
<br />
“Take it from me—a little excitement goes a long way,” said Bridget, gesturing toward the front room, where I could hear her two older boys playing. “You don’t want to do what I did.”<br />
<br />
That was true. Bridget had gotten pregnant before her wedding and Daddy had been furious. But still. “For cripes sake, Bridget, when would I have the opportunity? I haven’t even kissed anyone in months!”<br />
<br />
“So kiss somebody.” Bridget grinned and dropped into the chair across from me. “Then give me all the saucy details.”<br />
<br />
“It’s more than that,” I went on. “In the morning I want to get up and go to work without cleaning up a big mess after breakfast. At night, instead of washing all the dinner dishes and making sure everyone has clean clothes for the next day, I want to go dancing and drink champagne. I want to wear a short dress and red lipstick without my father scolding me. I want to hit the best nightclubs with a dashing swain at my side to light my cigarettes. Like the Arrow Shirt man,” I said wistfully. “Or the sheik.”<br />
<br />
Bridget laughed. “The sheik?”<br />
<br />
“That guy who comes in for the Fatimas. He was in again today looking for Daddy.” I touched my buttery mouth, picturing the sheik’s lips on his cigarette.<br />
<br />
The light in Bridget’s eyes went out. “Oh.”<br />
<br />
“Any idea who he is?”<br />
<br />
She jumped up, grabbed the broom from the corner and swept the floor with angry strokes, shooing Charlie into the front room. “No. But I don’t like the looks of him.”<br />
<br />
“Since when? The other day we were both swooning over him like he was Valentino.”<br />
<br />
“Something about the way he keeps showing up gives me a bad feeling.” She swept harder, not meeting my eyes. “He reminds me of those guys who used to come around for Vince.”<br />
<br />
My twitchy feeling returned. I knew the kind of men she was talking about. The day Vince was murdered two years ago, he was picking up a mobster named Big Leo Scarfone from the police station. He’d been shot right there on the sidewalk. <i>Twenty-one times.</i><br />
<br />
I swallowed. “You think he’s connected to Vince’s…to what happened to Vince?”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know, Tiny. I don’t recognize him. I just suddenly got a bad feeling, that’s all.” Finally, she stopped sweeping and looked at me, tears in her eyes. “You need to be careful. A little excitement is one thing, but I don’t want to be up at night worrying about you. Understand?”<br />
<br />
I nodded, deciding not to mention the episode in the alley. She put the broom away and returned to the stove as I recalled getting the news about Vince, delivered by a Detroit police officer at the store. Three other men were killed that day, including Big Leo and Joey’s father. The third guy lived just long enough to break the code of silence and reveal the names of the gunmen, members of a rival crime family. They were arrested and charged with murder, but Bridget said they’d never go to jail, and she was right. It took the jury less than fifty minutes to find them innocent.<br />
<br />
I was hoping her instincts about the sheik were off. Because I wanted to see him again.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;">
I wanted to do more than that.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-39269203307919907762013-07-14T20:22:00.000-07:002013-07-20T07:09:46.018-07:00The NAmazing Adventure!Welcome to my stop on the NAmazing Adventure, a blog hop featuring over 60 New Adult authors, and prize packs that include ARCs, signed books, gift cards, swag, and more!<br />
<br />
If you're not sure what the NAmazing Adventure is, <a href="http://www.naalley.com/2013/07/its-kick-off-time-for-namazing.html">please click here</a> to start from the beginning and read the complete rules on the NA Alley website. Now let's get this journey on the road!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_AoxxCn8StcwrHzMTTf3sUdvuQF5sIC2Kf5ynooBvWRHXoE10SpGnZzyuPOWFuVvAHCEt_NarJV-97-T5oOSZBQj2xRbCVyfj96SXjdLqrJtM242Hsm1fE2HVvSG39qpGIQS_9MO0sCN/s1600/Speak+Easy+Cover+Final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_AoxxCn8StcwrHzMTTf3sUdvuQF5sIC2Kf5ynooBvWRHXoE10SpGnZzyuPOWFuVvAHCEt_NarJV-97-T5oOSZBQj2xRbCVyfj96SXjdLqrJtM242Hsm1fE2HVvSG39qpGIQS_9MO0sCN/s320/Speak+Easy+Cover+Final.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
Book Description...<br />
<br />
<b>Temptation is everywhere.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>It's July, 1923. By day twenty-year-old Tiny O’Mara works for her father’s smalltime bootlegging operation. By night she craves the roll-your-stockings-down lifestyle of a flapper, but with her mother gone, she’s usually stuck at home with two younger sisters—until her father is kidnapped by a mobster in Detroit's exploding organized crime scene, and it’s Tiny who has to come up with the ten-thousand-dollar ransom.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>In one week.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Enzo DiFiore’s screen-idol looks and dangerous charm leave her breathless, even though he’s the son of the mobster holding her father hostage. But when the forbidden spark between them refuses to burn out, she tries to use their powerful attraction to buy more time.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>And then there’s Joey Lupo, the irritatingly handsome pest from her childhood who’s got the street smarts Tiny needs to smuggle enough booze to make a quick ten grand. But he’s got his own agenda where gang rivalries are concerned, and despite his promise to protect her, Tiny isn’t sure she can trust Joey—or stop her growing feelings for him.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>To save her father’s life, she’ll have to choose between them. But deciding whom to trust isn’t easy in a world where everyone wants something—be it booze, money, power, or sex—and no one cares what it takes to get it.</b><br />
<br />
Got that memorized? ;)<br />
<br />
Actually, just jot down when the story takes place and you'll be all set for the quiz at the end of this quest! And remember, you must complete ALL SIX quizzes to be eligible for a prize pack.<br />
<br />
Thanks for stopping by--come back for Tempt Me Tuesday...I'm going to post the first chapter of SPEAK EASY!<br />
<br />
Ready to move on?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missmonicamurphy.blogspot.com/2013/07/namazing-adventure.html">Click HERE</a> to go to the next stop on your adventure! Good luck!<br />
<br />
Cheers,<br />
Melanie<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-40391422060188054442013-07-09T06:42:00.000-07:002013-07-09T06:42:24.299-07:00Tempt Me Tuesday...With WafflesMmmmmm, today's tempt is brought to you by waffles.<br />
<br />
My lovely friend Sophia Bleu's NA romance <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17839132-catching-liam">CATCHING LIAM</a> released this week at just 99 cents--<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Catching-Liam-Good-Girls-ebook/dp/B00DN9CS28/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1373377063&sr=1-1&keywords=catching+liam">grab it at that price while you can</a>. (Oh, you have a Nook? <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/catching-liam-sophia-bleu/1115917446?ean=2940016483528">Here you go, sweet pea</a>.)<br />
<br />
Because...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8VVhnFciIhH2JfoDTfD9yjM1PT76RVDj1jPppx23oh3v3krFn-2G_LnMdW5raOFiei8hJmsEnRCl4VOO3XAIXFujtLuo9sRgKYpSQhNXJOy-P1JFO5adJ348YSCu0HTYYTOIhSTTuWO45/s1600/970400_208371519286542_782553789_n.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8VVhnFciIhH2JfoDTfD9yjM1PT76RVDj1jPppx23oh3v3krFn-2G_LnMdW5raOFiei8hJmsEnRCl4VOO3XAIXFujtLuo9sRgKYpSQhNXJOy-P1JFO5adJ348YSCu0HTYYTOIhSTTuWO45/s320/970400_208371519286542_782553789_n.png" width="315" /></a></div>
<br />
One of the many scenes I can't get out of my head from this book is when Jillian wakes up to the scent of vanilla wafting through her apartment and a hot boy with a Scottish accent making waffles in her kitchen.<br />
<br />
I loves my evening cocktails, but damn if Sophia didn't make breakfast sexy too! And what's better than a boy who cooks? I have one in SPEAK EASY too...more on that later. :)<br />
<br />
Sophia even shared Liam's recipe...in case you want to catch somebody!<br />
<br />
<b>Liam’s “Caught You” Waffles </b><br />
<br />
2 cups all-purpose flour<br />
<br />
1 teaspoon salt<br />
<br />
4 teaspoons baking powder<br />
<br />
2 tablespoons white sugar<br />
<br />
2 eggs<br />
<br />
1 1/2 cups warm milk<br />
<br />
1/3 cup butter, melted<br />
<br />
Secret ingredient #1: 1 teaspoon vanilla extract<br />
<br />
Secret ingredient #2: 1 teaspoon of ground cinnamon<br />
<br />
Directions<br />
<br />
This recipe will make about 10-12 waffles. The perfect amount to impress any roommates that straggle in, or to feast on if you’ve pulled an all-nighter.<br />
<br />
1. Preheat waffle iron to desired temperature. I like it really hot. I know, I know. That’s what she said. Now would be a good time to make sure you push the iron far enough back on the counter to avoid any burns through accidental contact of your hands...or other areas.<br />
<br />
2. In a large bowl, sift together flour, salt, baking powder and sugar, and I do mean sift. Don’t just throw it all in the bowl. You have to give it a little attention. Mix it up a little. Don’t just set it aside.<br />
<br />
3. In a separate bowl, beat the eggs. Here’s my trick. If your girl’s still sleeping, separate the eggs first. Whip the egg whites like they’ve been naughty until soft peaks form. Stir in the milk, yolks, butter and vanilla. Pour the milk mixture into the flour mixture. Mix together until combined, but don’t overdo it. Too much attention and they’ll come out tough instead of crisp and slightly chewy.<br />
<br />
4. Ladle the batter into a preheated waffle iron. Don’t get burned. Cook the waffles until golden. Refrain from getting distracted with extra-culinary activities.<br />
<br />
5. Serve before she or the waffles get cold. <br />
<br />
Enjoy!<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-57201557035356837302013-07-08T05:46:00.000-07:002013-07-08T05:46:22.166-07:00I'm Stalky and I Know ItBack in my YA querying days, I used to stalk agents on Twitter. I bet you did too.<br />
<br />
(Or you still are.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWyeEdoMxrq_2XCBBO1ORcWLBGE5kZA7TJSsyainLBN4x9CQkIucwz7Z8Dc8-ZLoexVrCC7v4hZqSTnbTfmTk2cNSChQJyy7FCEEMUwZKEUcdSd_oNA3NMM5BN6LBiwElujm76vDyGjWh7/s1600/tumblr_inline_mgceueONgd1ru8t9z.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWyeEdoMxrq_2XCBBO1ORcWLBGE5kZA7TJSsyainLBN4x9CQkIucwz7Z8Dc8-ZLoexVrCC7v4hZqSTnbTfmTk2cNSChQJyy7FCEEMUwZKEUcdSd_oNA3NMM5BN6LBiwElujm76vDyGjWh7/s320/tumblr_inline_mgceueONgd1ru8t9z.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Sure, it was obsessive and mildly creepy, but I came to the conclusion that every aspiring writer did it and if I wasn't lurking about on Twitter, I might miss something, like the chance to overanalyze that befuddling tweet.<br />
<br />
Was that MY query that got a yes? Were those MY sample pages he adored? Could that be MY ms that so delighted her she forgot to get off the train?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj10hFmyPeZg_3yDnP0yI7OUpywWCX0fYcYHzdboe_YR5yUjEICHnxdcNwNP3S6UcTNzVSwusiB_3azgJTEb1PrYGHrfxVX_jASBEm96a9-69S8u2tqXtLCr1otkxXxFXDvstD_jvjwJcMr/s1600/n4ff6207ca9f35.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj10hFmyPeZg_3yDnP0yI7OUpywWCX0fYcYHzdboe_YR5yUjEICHnxdcNwNP3S6UcTNzVSwusiB_3azgJTEb1PrYGHrfxVX_jASBEm96a9-69S8u2tqXtLCr1otkxXxFXDvstD_jvjwJcMr/s320/n4ff6207ca9f35.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
But mostly it was worse... WHY is he on Twitter when he should be reading my submission? WHY is she complaining about boredom when she's had my partial for 3 months? WHY did that person hear back when I can tell from Querytracker that I queried first!?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyjwX9XPOjo4F60CWqKErLL6QLwA25AqcL5CxUpTVM2ToGuahEBtS58EBeU8fWkvibAJ0G-sUoNbkcS1NOz1fFdaDRwS9Ct_5jd6TZ21eIuDp62rdX-8le0Av7l93uZymY5NzBdCKMjGVK/s1600/1325795244_angry_face.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyjwX9XPOjo4F60CWqKErLL6QLwA25AqcL5CxUpTVM2ToGuahEBtS58EBeU8fWkvibAJ0G-sUoNbkcS1NOz1fFdaDRwS9Ct_5jd6TZ21eIuDp62rdX-8le0Av7l93uZymY5NzBdCKMjGVK/s1600/1325795244_angry_face.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
What a relief it was to leave that behind when I made the decision to write for adults and publish it myself.<br />
<br />
However, I still have a stalking problem. Only now I stalk myself.<br />
<br />
It's a lot less creepy but no less obsessive. Why didn't anyone warn me about this?<br />
<br />
I started by stalking my number of Twitter followers, Facebook friends, and author page Facebook likes. Harmless, right?<br />
<br />
Then I added my book on Goodreads. And started a giveaway. My stalking tendencies have returned full-force, my excitement climbing every time those TBR adds and contest entries go up, and my book isn't even available yet! NOTHING guarantees those people will actually buy/read the book!<br />
<br />
And yet this is what I do when I see them rising.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA4uSKiiyQCmEgOymnSgxN2gloSLO-58LP7gFFaTNaSAHfoLYJUTU9X8_2rWRPD4ATHALQQxuEL1ti3p9QSaKRpD_xtB2Dkmg0T6rCAV_7RE6MxNmVSH9XgqA8WeHaN82y0RYP8nR4ZEag/s1600/tumblr_mdpjbnK8pL1ql68mpo1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA4uSKiiyQCmEgOymnSgxN2gloSLO-58LP7gFFaTNaSAHfoLYJUTU9X8_2rWRPD4ATHALQQxuEL1ti3p9QSaKRpD_xtB2Dkmg0T6rCAV_7RE6MxNmVSH9XgqA8WeHaN82y0RYP8nR4ZEag/s320/tumblr_mdpjbnK8pL1ql68mpo1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Friends of mine who released books already this summer have warned me about the stalking I will do on Amazon, and I'm afraid. I'm very afraid.<br />
<br />
But at least I know I'm not alone. And maybe someday I will lose interest in this kind of stalking; perhaps it's just a novelty right now because it's my first book coming out.<br />
<br />
And it's kind of a relief not to have mildly violent thoughts about perfectly nice Agent People who just want to go about their day taking trains and eating sandwiches and drinking coffee and reading words that are not mine.<br />
<br />
For now, anyway. :)<br />
<br />
Happy Stalking this week, everyone!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-88868225270926838282013-07-04T06:22:00.000-07:002013-07-04T06:22:16.537-07:005 Sexy Questions for Emma HartLucky me--as part of the New Adult Authors Unite Sensational Summer Blog Tour, I got to interview New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Emma Hart!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia31ntIYr-1G1iPqFAwbCSr4PRIifEjkHCN-nqMiFL5KXuA-fTJNj8W3h6Hkhxi504QgS4kADUG501py6vF_MeFFobDQSmOBqrwcj1lQoYHtqJGXSju_TSkJdsdoGwL-fL_cWNPecsUG7Q/s120/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia31ntIYr-1G1iPqFAwbCSr4PRIifEjkHCN-nqMiFL5KXuA-fTJNj8W3h6Hkhxi504QgS4kADUG501py6vF_MeFFobDQSmOBqrwcj1lQoYHtqJGXSju_TSkJdsdoGwL-fL_cWNPecsUG7Q/s200/photo.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talented, successful, and cute.<br />
I'd hate her if she weren't so dang sweet.<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Emma's latest release is the second book in The Game series, PLAYING FOR KEEPS. It is sweet and spicy--a perfect summer read! And this week, it's on sale for just 99 cents! <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Playing-Keeps-The-Game-ebook/dp/B00DKCZBYA/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1372878864&sr=1-2&keywords=playing+for+keeps">Get it now, and thank me later</a>. :)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovnfsC0keDYMIvyDjvJkM2AC5c7qIRaYJBRbH9CyH_rAMQiAUQJV7i907eJPc0yt9vQX4jp4RnIWUPkla0Z0RktCr_MI3FulLJfy7pcjkr_Vdbfwpzgzae3Z3qQ-1iQK_wCGBNQYZplW8/s1600/PLAYING+FOR+KEEPS+COVER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovnfsC0keDYMIvyDjvJkM2AC5c7qIRaYJBRbH9CyH_rAMQiAUQJV7i907eJPc0yt9vQX4jp4RnIWUPkla0Z0RktCr_MI3FulLJfy7pcjkr_Vdbfwpzgzae3Z3qQ-1iQK_wCGBNQYZplW8/s320/PLAYING+FOR+KEEPS+COVER.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, it is that sexy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
PLAYING FOR KEEPS is so darn hot that, naturally, when Emma agreed to be interviewed for this post I immediately harassed her with 5 Sexy Questions.<br />
<br />
She's so delightful, she not only answered them but offered some swag to give away to one lucky commenter on today's post!<br />
<br />
So without further ado...<br />
<br />
MH: I know it's hard to choose, but which sexy scene was your favorite to write from Playing for Keeps and why? (I think mine was the back seat!)<br />
<br />
<b>EH: Rain kiss on the hood and the back seat... Could it be anything else? ;) </b><br />
<br />
MH: Um, yes...the whole book is HOT! So now that we're warmed up, what is your favorite sexual position and why?<br />
<br />
<b>EH: Who says you need a favourite? ;)</b><br />
<br />
MH: Ha! Well said. What sexy books are you most looking forward to reading this summer?<br />
<br />
<b>EH: Hmm, this is tough, mostly because this summer will be hectic for me, but I'm gonna say yours ;) and I have a couple of beta reads coming up! But they're secret, so yeah. ;)</b><br />
<br />
MH: Speak Easy it is, then! I hope 1920s American gangsters turn a modern British girl on. :) Now, who is your favorite piece of mancandy?<br />
<br />
<b>EH: Right now? This guy. He's also my current muse.</b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvFFSoXMTcDClnL2wTEE9TgO85l3PBxeNHwR7yzCWFlzA6TSvx1vvfKX6P2shv1Sr_nuvPQ_apYLuncgStcMowUcZrZNPCtcbD-Xek0ww3NBdCtmoreAHeiXT4MbqArPfBdXr_XikaGQis/s720/39e34df13968b5ff44dfa6d5a563a1f1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvFFSoXMTcDClnL2wTEE9TgO85l3PBxeNHwR7yzCWFlzA6TSvx1vvfKX6P2shv1Sr_nuvPQ_apYLuncgStcMowUcZrZNPCtcbD-Xek0ww3NBdCtmoreAHeiXT4MbqArPfBdXr_XikaGQis/s320/39e34df13968b5ff44dfa6d5a563a1f1.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
MH: Oh, hell yes. Right this moment that guy's doing it for me too...I can hardly focus. He looks like Jonathan Rhys Meyers!<br />
<br />
Speaking of JRMmmmmmm, what five sexy people are on your Hollywood Exceptions list (free pass from your hubs if ever the opportunity arises)? Can be men or women!<br />
<br />
<b>EH: Haa... Umm... Channing Tatum (obvs), Matthew Lewis, (he played Neville in Harry Potter. Have you SEEN him lately? Holy smokes.) Taylor Lautner. Ryan Reynolds. And Ian Somerhalder. WHY CAN I ONLY CHOOSE FIVE?! I'm sorry. *puts hormones back in their box* </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
MH: I'm sorry too! How about I say it can be a rotating cast? These days I'm quite partial to Steven Strait, who plays Stevie Evans on Magic City.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwh0o2nr26eYV2nkFdeqWWXBTHJq5rrorZ0_mznrrYjfwM38YF2uni0oiDAJDaWRLLDzT0pFfsl4jpccr0dD7OcKWTVcA3GGTBnJXomujIi2LFIv8IZUfYZ-Lkd7qNcbPXT767kPcx7BYh/s667/tumblr_m515k1OHpe1r94g0ho1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwh0o2nr26eYV2nkFdeqWWXBTHJq5rrorZ0_mznrrYjfwM38YF2uni0oiDAJDaWRLLDzT0pFfsl4jpccr0dD7OcKWTVcA3GGTBnJXomujIi2LFIv8IZUfYZ-Lkd7qNcbPXT767kPcx7BYh/s320/tumblr_m515k1OHpe1r94g0ho1_500.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why yes, I will take a ride with you.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
Now sexy readers, it's your turn: comment below with your Hollywood crush (this week) and one of you darlings will win The Game series swag from Emma! Contest will stay open until midnight EST on July 11th, when the NAUU Sensational Blog Tour ends.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI90HFubkeCVrgKK_Gdb_NNtWpbyQYXblTsGZNNomoAZGuEsJWzEmpKvPAGnYmCGFTKHoJF96YSXSpSVfgh1EliI06YQTsATcokQCL4S-dnnw2tB1CnmNHvPNmZe9Rw9aY3E5OoD3HfJ7K/s1600/Emmaswag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="113" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI90HFubkeCVrgKK_Gdb_NNtWpbyQYXblTsGZNNomoAZGuEsJWzEmpKvPAGnYmCGFTKHoJF96YSXSpSVfgh1EliI06YQTsATcokQCL4S-dnnw2tB1CnmNHvPNmZe9Rw9aY3E5OoD3HfJ7K/s320/Emmaswag.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
Thanks, Emma!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989345792505467666.post-75718990926802141282013-06-28T07:56:00.001-07:002013-06-28T07:56:46.806-07:00Flapper Friday: Condom CrazyThis is one of those history lessons we didn't get in school.<br />
<br />
A lovely reader who just finished an ARC of SPEAK EASY emailed me about a scene where Enzo retrieves a condom from his coat pocket. (It is a favorite scene of mine.)<br />
<br />
She was curious about the accuracy of this--did such a thing exist in the 1920s?<br />
<br />
Why, yes!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxnxuqpuGvnMUJFTrqzdVnkWX3LoieyRpKqUlHqqmYHFgsUWAg2O7bFKAga6zJdyuHBvikOADhlX5c9MHHYIpAUTxUKpbGdwsWy-A8sXmwhiOOTtkSEga9h_aV-s0aAuNhuJq82CNTEgdH/s273/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxnxuqpuGvnMUJFTrqzdVnkWX3LoieyRpKqUlHqqmYHFgsUWAg2O7bFKAga6zJdyuHBvikOADhlX5c9MHHYIpAUTxUKpbGdwsWy-A8sXmwhiOOTtkSEga9h_aV-s0aAuNhuJq82CNTEgdH/s273/imgres.jpeg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I admit that when I was writing the scene, I looked it up to make sure (that's the downside of writing hot scenes in historical settings--you have to stop and look things up...more on that another time).<br />
<br />
But here are Five Fun Things about Condom History.<br />
<br />
1) According to Salon.com, "The oldest condoms ever found were dug up in the cesspit — or big toilet — of Dudley Castle, an English ruin, in 1985. Made of fish and animal intestine, the condoms were most likely dropped into the cesspit sometime in the mid 17th century."<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGmRHNOxKKRi1Jg8bKwsljJIOFHBVSe-nZhIEMnfdKcnCAe1MGcEDbcon2nyJbEk0NzfKbtvqPMEbbDJ9Z4vXKp4HeuP-lzMQxFYFqELoCNTSVbxgJ1AhjuBMGdcN4xsTIQuGWkMBLgWeE/s220/220px-Condom_1900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGmRHNOxKKRi1Jg8bKwsljJIOFHBVSe-nZhIEMnfdKcnCAe1MGcEDbcon2nyJbEk0NzfKbtvqPMEbbDJ9Z4vXKp4HeuP-lzMQxFYFqELoCNTSVbxgJ1AhjuBMGdcN4xsTIQuGWkMBLgWeE/s220/220px-Condom_1900.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Animal skin condom c. 1900</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Fascinating. And yet disgusting.<br />
<br />
2) The first rubber condoms were produced in the mid-19th century, and they only covered the tip--men had to be measured by a doctor for a proper fit, and even then they'd fall off during use (go figure). Pretty soon rubber manufacturers figured out that full-length one-size-fits-all condoms would sell like mad in pharmacies.<br />
<br />
Genius!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Inm3rR2b92bqKfcyc6jbz7lUF7G6TVBsQZmNKnW-qOPQlXrix9bmDKhtlavqXt62DI-MbC8JcxlNlEByO9-PsvySodIEfVqtscbBde_UGf_zNv7wSIoB2Sr5SdifkOMFVmCKyqIZWGc3/s270/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Inm3rR2b92bqKfcyc6jbz7lUF7G6TVBsQZmNKnW-qOPQlXrix9bmDKhtlavqXt62DI-MbC8JcxlNlEByO9-PsvySodIEfVqtscbBde_UGf_zNv7wSIoB2Sr5SdifkOMFVmCKyqIZWGc3/s270/images-1.jpeg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
3) Condom use got a big boost during World War I because they prevented soldier deaths from STD's like syphilis. However, the U.S. military, under pressure from "purity advocates," was the only force not to supply its troops with condoms. Way to go, Uncle Sam!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKuU38g2KcpwTGOZdUh-rWGylqhGD6X6qeioUY0sZ21Inka3TCA6kjQhKmcPfI7OcY9_Ppd1-UPfaF-iHEg1EXcjLgSeXRwX06qcKP6zI0s_nogZyVhGwH5-84RXdsqsZseq3KOx34zAmJ/s359/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKuU38g2KcpwTGOZdUh-rWGylqhGD6X6qeioUY0sZ21Inka3TCA6kjQhKmcPfI7OcY9_Ppd1-UPfaF-iHEg1EXcjLgSeXRwX06qcKP6zI0s_nogZyVhGwH5-84RXdsqsZseq3KOx34zAmJ/s320/images.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
4) In 1918, condoms began to be publicly, legally sold to Americans for the first time in forty-five years. Through the 1920s, catchy names and slick packaging became an increasingly important marketing technique for many consumer items, including condoms.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjptP0MSrNZh_og6yd1ZyQNL94EO4W49WYr3PpomvGfP4SWu3jYgXMaPFBpO_Hpa1kGVqDpwTN7PSBiatXFf_Lwxs9z_vRR-oEMpqwk35XoyGMV15Y5plFrki4BGLnCRf1GJ6L0Vv-1u-WJ/s716/4s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjptP0MSrNZh_og6yd1ZyQNL94EO4W49WYr3PpomvGfP4SWu3jYgXMaPFBpO_Hpa1kGVqDpwTN7PSBiatXFf_Lwxs9z_vRR-oEMpqwk35XoyGMV15Y5plFrki4BGLnCRf1GJ6L0Vv-1u-WJ/s320/4s.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I like to think Enzo used Three Sheik. ;)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
5) Margaret Sanger held the First American Birth Control Conference in November 1921 in New York City. Condom sales doubled worldwide in the 1920s!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrDa8kyv02P6wSLMLSvZ8YRG107BEjRtLh4FUbsRSFEipsXVA8A_H5ednVL6y5WKaVhvfy9DPsHxNuLQhj37m6Ys97TR2PKZL9xf7QhUSBk8i6ZnMcPGytaOyP4k63o1KBKsMQ9bD9Y0R/s279/220px-MargaretSanger-Underwood.LOC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrDa8kyv02P6wSLMLSvZ8YRG107BEjRtLh4FUbsRSFEipsXVA8A_H5ednVL6y5WKaVhvfy9DPsHxNuLQhj37m6Ys97TR2PKZL9xf7QhUSBk8i6ZnMcPGytaOyP4k63o1KBKsMQ9bD9Y0R/s279/220px-MargaretSanger-Underwood.LOC.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yay Margaret!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So, yes...we may not like to think about our great-grandparents in terms of pre-marital sex or Three Ramses condoms, but there it is!<br />
<br />
Have a safe weekend. ;)<br />
<br />
Cheers!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12565352824731687201noreply@blogger.com0