Unwrapped Cover Reveal

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.

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. 

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.

More about that later! For now...

COVER REVEAL

A New Adult Romance

Six different novellas

by the NAturals

Laurelin Paige, Gennifer Albin, Melanie Harlow, 

Sierra Simone, Kayti McGee Downey, and Tamara Mataya

Release: December 23, 2013

Cover designed by Tom Barnes Design

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.   About the Authors 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. Blog | Facebook | Twitter  

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I Wanted to Hate Night Owl

I'm ashamed of myself.

On Saturday I started Night Owl, hoping it would be bad. Really bad.

You see, I had something against the author.

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.

And I was fist-clenching, teeth-gritting jealous.

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.

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.

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.

I poured a glass of wine, gave a final harrumph, and started to read.

Two pages in, I was hooked. And furious.

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?

Take that, Night Owl!

I bought the book (99 cents on Amazon) and poured more wine.

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.

I. Was. So. Mad.

The next morning, I stalked M. Pierce's blog like a hawk, determined to figure out if he or she was really Stephen King. (Not gonna lie, that's really what I thought.)

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.

Damn, that's annoying.

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.

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.

I can't wait to finish Night Owl, and if you like well-written erotic romance, I urge you to pick it up--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.

I wanted to dislike the author and the book. Serves me right that they are both amazing.

This is Not Your Nana's Historical Romance (Sexy Excerpt of SPEAK EASY)

WARNING: This post contains adult content. (Pretty much all sins are covered.)

Hello darlings,

So the craziest thing happened last week.

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.

And I discovered something. Well, a few things.

1) New Adult readers are reluctant to pick up up a non-contemporary romantic story.

2) Historical is a dusty word.

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.

What's a girl to do?

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...

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. 

So guess what I did?

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).

Want to see it?

OK, just for you.

Because I'm all about giving in to temptation. ;)

And here's the new description...

**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.

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…

Temptation is everywhere. And anything goes.

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.

Suddenly she’s thrust into an intoxicating underworld of greed, lust, lies, and betrayal.

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.

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.

Now, are you ready for a little Monday morning sizzle?

Good.

Here's an excerpt--an early scene between Tiny, the feisty heroine, and Enzo, her dangerous bad boy.

“Satisfied?” He set the phone down and raised his eyebrows at me.

“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.

No. You can’t.

“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.”

“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.

Oh yes, I can.

“If you’ll move, I’ll unlock the door,” he said.

Fear and some other untamable feeling buzzed through me. “No.”

“No?”

“We still have five minutes.” I rushed forward and threw my arms around his neck, crushing my lips to his. 

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. Keep your senses. This is just a ploy. You’re angry with him. 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.

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. 

Somehow, he undid seven hooks and eyes with one hand. 

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.

But just for a moment.

“Enzo,” I whispered instead, gripping the edge of the desk. “We can’t.”

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.

Oh God, that feels so good. I struggled for control. “It’s been five minutes. And neither of us wants to get caught here.”

He paused. “You’re right. Besides, what I’d like to do to you takes more than five minutes.” 

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. 

Want to know what they do with it?

Easy. Click.

Cheers,

Melanie

Tempt Me Tuesday: Fixed on You

Lovers of smexy books are feasting this week on some hot new releases, and one of them is FIXED ON YOU by my friend Laurelin Paige.

Mmmm. Suit porn.

Laurelin writes some really sexy stuff, so if you like your romance with heat a la Gideon and Eva, you will eat up Hudson and Laynie and lick the plate!

Here is my fantasy Hudson as he appears when Laynie first meets him--blue suit, gray eyes, stubble.

Hudsoooooooooon!

One of my favorite scenes is when Hudson takes Laynie shopping for a dress to wear to an event, and she's in the dressing room wearing the winner--a long black dress with a corset bodice.

He sneaks in, stands behind her, and loosens the corset. Then he tells her to watch in the mirror.

What happens next is so hot I can't even write it here.

But this. THIS.

"Put your hands on the mirror." His husky command and the anticipation of knowing what he was about to do sparked a new wave of arousal, evan more intense than before.

Still shaking, I reached my hands out in front of me, his arms leaving me as soon as I managed to support myself. Behind me, I heard his zipper, the sound raising my level of excitement.

YES. MINE TOO.

And this was just an appetizer, darlings. The entire meal awaits!

Eat. It. Up.          Amazon           Barnes and Noble