Stunning to realize that the Naughty Literati have been in business for two years now. Our backlist has become impressive. Better, the inspiration that we draw from each other and this shared project is uplifting.
Presenting Autumn 2016 and Naughty Haunts: Eleven Spooky Love Stories
I have not one but two dynamite stories in this anthology.
Anyone love witches and vampires, along with men in uniform? Hope so!
Here's what I have for ya:
Gypsy Witch
The Sacramento Police Department is no place for airy-fairy wimps, and Ben McCullough is the toughest of the tough. He tells himself he's bedding the luscious Elena Lautari only because she's a babe, not because she's a card-carrying member of the Northern California Church of Wicca. Ben thinks she's a
The doorway that inspired Gypsy Witch you'll understand when you read the story
feather away from an arrest for fraud, since she makes a living telling fortunes and making charms for the lovelorn. He can't see her as a lifelong mate even though she's more than a match for him in the sack, and losing her is unthinkable.
But Elena is the real deal, a modern witch of much power and even more restraint. When her daughter, Gina, steals her mother's spell book and uses it to shatter the fabric of existence and release an ancient evil, Elena must put reality back in place—even if she loses Ben in the process. Will Ben and Elena's fragile love be lost with the revelation of her magic?
Maybe, but there are others ready to heal her battered heart. When Ben's partner attempts to claim Elena, will Ben move aside or move in?
This story is previously published, and other readers loved it!
That's me in front of "Sinister"
"Suz deMello fills Gypsy Witch with emotion and enough heat to ignite the pages."
--Elise Lynn, sensualreads.com
"well written and extremely hot"
--Coffee Time Romance
Immortal Hunters
A century-old vampire, Rama is used to shadows and loneliness.
She uses the name Hestia White and lives in a coastal town working as a private investigator. If some bad guys disappear on her shift, no one cares…until John van Helsing shows up. Bearing the name of the vamps’ greatest foe, he interferes in her case and in her life.
Friend, lover or enemy?
…a highly charged, sexually stimulating and all around pleasurable trip…
Robin, MyBookCravings.com
Rating: 4.5: … terrific…Suz deMello did another awesome job…
Tara Renee, Two Lips Reviews
…cool and interesting…
Tammie King, Night Owl Reviews
This anthology also features stories by Lynn LaFleur, Tina Donahue, Nicole Austin and the rest of the Naughty Literati--Enjoy! Plus there's a story from the late Charlotte Boyett-Compo.
The time of this writing is July 2016, and I feel
it’s time to tell the truth, especially since I have emphasized my commitment
to honesty both in this book and my life.
The events I discussed in Chapter One did not take
place in the Bay Area when I was a student—they took place in Sacramento in
2012, centering around a yoga studio. Trapper Hart was not a law student, but a
local businessman who attended the same class I did.
2014 was a year of exploration and growth for
me...
Is their passion strong enough to break her chains?
AndalucÃa Spain, 1489: Innocent Beatriz is desperate to escape the threat of a miserable marriage to a cruel Marquis. Forced into the betrothal by her ruthless merchant papá, her only hope is to conceal her identity and become a servant in a nearby castle—a life drastically different from her comfortable upbringing.
Tomás doesn’t know what to make of his well-spoken new servant girl. Her beauty and charm captivates the military hero; her mysterious nature intrigues him. And the desire she ignites burns brighter with each glance, as does his longing to claim her for his own.
Beatriz can’t resist Tomás’ passion nor deny the heat of her own. But neither the lush countryside nor the walls of the opulent Moorish castle can entirely protect her—and if he were to discover her secret, she could be torn away from him forever. Yet how can she sustain his love if she’s living a lie?
Excerpt:
A gentle breeze carried laughter and converse from the señoritas who surrounded Tomás, each vying for his attention. The one in dark green silk with a matching caul danced around trying to get closer to him. The one in red with a white flower in her hair elbowed past another girl. Those in gold and bright yellow were even less demure, pushing into each other, speaking loudly, far removed from how a lowly servant had to act.
Especially to please Nuncio.
How dare he make her solely responsible for a man’s carnal moves? Beatriz had no control over anyone’s passion except her own. Thus far, she’d failed miserably at quelling her desires.
Despite what Nuncio had said, she still ached to feel Tomás’s heat and strength, to have him imprison and possess her. No threat in the world would change her longing. However, she wasn’t foolish enough to act on her attraction. Poor man already had enough trouble.
His broad shoulders were slumped, mouth turned down. She wanted to make him smile. To have him stand as the noble lord he was, magnificent in his dark blue robe and doublet, his hose snug to his sinewy thighs and calves.
Several young women spoke to him at once. A señorita in a bright yellow gown touched his upper arm. The girl next to her, clad in vivid orange silk, touched his jaw.
Jealousy heated Beatriz’s face and throat.
Tomás drew back until the young woman groped air, not him. He faced the window, his gaze touching Beatriz, his dark brown eyes flooding with warmth, bronze complexion deepening.
Weak with desire, she leaned against the sill for support.
The señoritas gestured to him, talking endlessly, their words too garbled to understand.
Whatever they said, Tomás ignored them. He studied Beatriz’s eyes, then her lips and lingered there. She was smiling without realizing it. He answered with a broad grin and stepped closer.
*** CONTEST *** CONTEST *** CONTEST ***
Win Loving Lies and Wicked Whispers - books 1 and 2 in Dangerous Desires - plus winner gets choice of my backlist ebooks - 25 choices to choose from - full length, bestselling, award winning in contemporary, suspense, paranormal, and menage.
Tina is an Amazon and international
bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance
for traditional publishers and indie.
Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly,Romantic
Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three
of her erotic novels (Freeing the Beast,
Come and Get Your Love, and Wicked
Takeover) were Readers' Choice Award winners. Another three (Adored, Lush Velvet Nights, and Deep, Dark, Delicious) were named
finalists in the EPIC competition. Sensual
Stranger, her erotic contemporary romance, was chosen Book of the Year at
the French review site Blue Moon reviews. The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love
Loves Books was created specifically for her erotic romance Lush Velvet Nights. Two of her titles (The Yearning and Deep, Dark, Delicious) received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt
Medallion competition. Take Me Away and
Adored both won second place in the
NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina is featured in the Novel & Short
Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood
production company in Story Direction.
Many have remarked that as history has continued,
the already hectic pace of modern life was quickened as well. Here in
Author-Land we've encountered a phenomenon that's arisen during the digital
age: the frequent reversion of previously published works.
What does that mean, you ask?
When an author "sells" a book to a
publisher, s/he is actually licensing one of the bundle of
rights that makes up copyright. That right to distribute a written work is
finite--that is, it's limited by time. The traditional publishers would
generally demand, and get, a term that was functionally infinite. For example,
I will never again get the rights back to any of the five works I licensed to
Harlequin; their contract specifies that rights are eligible for reversion
consideration 5 or 6 years after last use. In other words--all
Harlequin needs to do if they want to hang onto one of my works is to reissue
it. Which they will do as long as the book is selling, a not unreasonable
position. After all, we both want to make money, right?
But ebook publishers have the view that a year or
so after publication, few books will sell and therefore, rights revert, meaning
that I, the author, get the rights back and I can self- or indie-publish.
As time has gone on I've re-acquired more and more
of my beloved books, including most of my Highland Vampires series, and I've
started to reissue them in bright shiny new editions.
The series consists of three novels and three
short stories. One of them is owned by Harlequin, so you, Dear Reader, will
never get another edition, but here are the first two stories in the series:
Viking in Tartan: Medieval romance from the
Highland Vampires series.
Scotland, Yule Eve, 1260. A Viking raider with
mysterious powers brings change to little Clan Kilbirnie, especially to the
chieftain’s daughter Rhona.
Temptation in Tartan:
She had to marry a monster…
Rumors had followed the chieftains of Clan Kilborn
for centuries. Said to be descended from the Viking Berserkers, they were
ferocious in battle, known for tearing off the heads of their enemies and
drinking their blood.
But English noblewoman Lydia Swann Williston would
marry Kieran, Laird Kilborn, to bring peace to the Kilborn lands after the
horror of Culloden and the
brutal pacification. A widow, she also brought
needed wealth to Clan Kilborn. For her part,
eighteen-year-old Lydia wanted children. With her husband killed at
Culloden, she would make a new life in the Highlands.
The old chieftain of Clan Kilborn also died in
battle, and she hoped that the new young Laird would lack his ancestors'
ferocity.
She was wrong.
*****
It's not always fun to be in total control of one's publishing life. It's often
felt burdensome and expensive.
Re-editing must occur, along with formatting, which includes inserting internal navigation. New covers must be created or purchased--a minimum $100 charge. And then, there's the promo conundrum. Few authors have a background in marketing or promotions, which would have been really helpful. I'm always experimenting with different approaches to help readers find my books.
Yes, it's frustrating and time-consuming, but overall, I'd rather make my own mistakes.
Six sizzling
short stories by award-winning, best-selling author Suz deMello, including
contemporary, multicultural, New Adult, historical, paranormal, shapeshifter,
medieval Scottish, vampire and power exchange.
When Linda
Travers was fourteen, Dave Madsen, then age seventeen, rescued her
from a snowy death. They later met at an end-of-term party at their college and
lost their virginities to each other before Dave left the country.
And now...Despite
spending her teenage years mooning overDave, Linda has moved on with her life. Being left pregnant and alone
will force that on a gal. Age twenty-five, she lives in their hometown with
their six-year-old, Mac. Then botanist Dave reappears. A vicious snakebite has
left him needing rehab from the only physical therapist around—Linda.
Their college lovemaking was the
first time for both, so Linda and Dave remember each other. She’s amazed to
feel the same old anger, hurt, and need. Less emotional, Dave’s curious about
Linda, wondering why she didn't leave her address and phone number for him when
what they’d shared had been so good. Neither totally believes the explanations
the other offers.
Since the rescue, Dave was always
Linda’s hero, but she doesn’t know him anymore. Is he worthy of fathering their
son? And what of their love? Can they create a future…together as a family?
This book has received many five star reviews on Amazon, with comments like:
"Be sure to read this great book!"
"I loved this book... It hooked me quickly and wouldn't let go.."
My story in this set is For My Master, romantic suspense with a touch of BDSM. Or maybe it's BDSM with a touch of romantic suspense!
This story is about agent Kathie Belmont, who's long lusted after her boss, Ross
Guerrero, but has never even flirted with him. Could he be the strong but
tender Master she craves?
Ross wants Kathie in his life—on her knees. But the
constraints of their jobs with an ultra-secret US security agency have come
between them. Will their undercover roles as a sex slave and her Master bring
them together...forever?
Here's a snippet to pique your interest:
from Chapter One
Station chief Ross Guerrero tapped a pencil on his
blotter and scrutinized Kathie Belmont, seated on a straight-backed chair on
the other side of his wide, government-issue desk. A soft-faced young woman,
she had the healthy good looks of a college student or a California beach
cutie, common here in San Diego. Her mink-brown hair with tasteful gold
highlights was blunt cut at her chin, masking a strong jaw line. Wide,
long-lashed eyes regarded Ross with openness and candor.
With multiple piercings in each ear and a silver
toe ring peeping from her sandal, she looked like any girl attending San Diego
State, UCSD or even Chula Vista High. In reality, Belmont was twenty-nine years
old, had graduated with honors in criminal justice from Pepperdine, then gone
on to a short but successful career as a police officer in Los Angeles. She’d
joined the agency, performing well during training and in her first
assignments. Now he’d find out if she was ready for more demanding tasks.
Her appearance was as useful as her black belt and
her Glock. Living proof of the maxim “you can’t judge a book by its cover,”
Agent Belmont, who’d been orphaned as a teen, had capably cared for her two
younger siblings, fighting to keep her family together. She was as competent an
operative as any he’d encountered during his thirteen years with the agency.
“Here’s the
situation.” Ross leaned forward. “There’s a group of baddies selling drugs just
over the border. Mostly steroids, but some crystal, crack, horse … you name it,
they’ve got it. Because they’re in Mexico, the usual law enforcement agencies
can’t go in.”
Her hazel eyes gleamed. “But we can.”
“Yes, we
can. But there’s a twist.”
She shrugged tanned shoulders, revealed by her sleeveless
pink blouse. “Isn’t there always?”
“They run
their drugs and whores out of a party house.” He eyed her, wondering if she was
up for the job. “An orgy house.”
Her brows lifted. “They still exist in the age of
AIDS?”
“They do. This one is in a chi-chi area called the
Zona Rio, on the south side of the Tijuana River.” He paused, tapping the
pencil on the blotter. “I can’t go in without a woman.”
She cleared her throat. “Exactly what would this
mission entail, sir?” Her voice was crisp and professional.
Even so, Ross noted the signs of nervous
excitement. A slight sheen of perspiration between her breasts, where their
tops were displayed by the scooped neck of her shirt. She fiddled with her hair
and didn’t meet his eyes. She crossed her suntanned knees, exposed by a blue
denim mini-skirt, then recrossed them, giving him a brief glimpse of pink
panties. His pulse jumped. Had she intended to flash him?
He cleared his throat. “They won’t know you
understand Spanish," he continued. "You’d listen as well as watch my
back. This is a group of evil bastards with absolutely no morals. They’re even
selling to steroids to minors, school kids with a dream of getting out of the
slums as athletes.”
Her lips firmed. “Let’s get ’em, sir.”
“Your life could depend upon unswerving obedience
to my commands. Truthfully, Belmont, I’m not sure you can do it.”
She bristled. “Why not?”
“Remember that Mexico is mostly a third-world
country. The status of women…” He shrugged. “You’d come with me as my
submissive. My slave.”
Her elegant jaw dropped. “You’re shittin’ me.”
He wagged a finger at her. “Language, young lady.”
“Pardon me, sir.” She shut her mouth with an
audible snap, then said, “Is this plan sanctioned by HQ?”
He evaded, saying, “You know that they give me
considerable latitude.”
Her eyes narrowed. “In other words, no, but you
think you can get away with it.”
He smiled.
“So why?” she asked, her voice dropping to a shaky
whisper.
“I think you know why, Belmont.” He walked around
the barrier of his desk and knelt next to her chair. His face was now level
with hers, and his gaze fixed on her eyes, her wide, nervous, expectant eyes.
He read fear there, as well as blatant feminine curiosity.
He’d have her exactly the way he wanted, but he’d
have to take care. A single wrong move, and she’d bolt.
He leaned closer, inhaling her cologne, a fresh,
bright scent he didn’t recognize but suited her perfectly. He let his lips
brush her neck, and watched the tiny hairs shift in subtle response. “You know
why,” he murmured into her ear before nipping the lobe.
She gasped, and he chuckled. “Just let go,
Belmont. Just…let go.”
She turned her head to shoot him a steady look
from those compelling hazel eyes. This time, their gazes met and clashed. Her
eyes were bold, unflinching, utterly unafraid.
My story is Alice's Sheikh, something I've been working on for a long time. While you might think that a sheikh story is too cliched/romance-y for the wild and wicked Suz deMello, you'd be wrong. In my mild-mannered persona of Sue Swift, I sold two sheikh books to Silhouette Romance, a now-defunct division of Harlequin--and they were both bestsellers. I am not the most canny of businesswomen, but even I understand that success leaves clues, and two bestselling sheikh books could mean a third bestselling sheikh book.
Alice's Sheikh is part of a projected trilogy called A Fortune to Win. The premise of the trilogy is contained in the Prologue to Alice's Sheikh:
LORD DARLINGSIDE AND WIFE MARA
FOUND DEAD
DRUG OVERDOSE SUSPECTED
[ROME] The jetsetting couple known as ‘Marvey,’ Harvey
Winningham, Lord Darlingside and his supermodel wife Mara Tove, were found at
three a.m. today (local time) drowned in the historic Trevi Fountain. An
autopsy is planned, which many fear will confirm the initial assumption that
the couple’s known heroin addiction caused their deaths. Reportedly, used
syringes were found on the fountain’s marble balustrade… They leave three adult
children: Peter, age 26, the new Earl Darlingside; daughter Alice, 23, a
teacher; Sophia, 19, a model.
…one week
later…
CONTENTS OF ‘MARVEY’ WILL REVEALED
[LONDON] …Though the Winningham family solicitor, Rabbie
White of White, Cheshire and Queen (Lincolns Inn Fields) remains closemouthed,
an unidentified source close to the family states that the Winningham fortune,
encompassing a manor house in Kent, a mansion in Hampstead, and invested monies
totalling some 50 million pounds, will be divided between ‘Marvey’s’ children. However, the ‘Marvey’ trust requires the heirs make a substantial non-monetary
contribution to society. Whether each child’s acts are sufficient to inherit is
a decision left solely to White’s discretion. Apparently Lord and Lady Darlingside
wanted to ensure that their progeny did not follow the same dangerous path they
trod…
here's a snippet to whet your appetite...
Chapter One
Port Sudan Airport,six months later
The clatter of gunfire shocked Alice Fortune into brief
immobility. Dropping everything, she ducked for cover under the nearest row of
shabby seats. The terminal’s interior lights went out, leaving a blackness so
absolute that it warned of a widespread power outage. Even the car park’s
lights had ceased twinkling through the grubby windows.
Shouts in a language she didn’t recognize pierced the air,
but otherwise, the little terminal was deathly still. She wondered if airport
personnel knew of an impending attack, for she was alone. Her heart banged
against her ribcage, and she told herself to stop inventing tales to scare herself
more. Wasn’t the situation frightening enough?
Sticky sweat poured off her body while the terminal, without
air conditioning, rapidly became sweltering. She huddled deeper behind the
dubious sanctuary of the chairs. After her eyes adjusted, she dimly perceived
lumps in the darkness—her luggage, including her satchel. She reached for the
satchel with a hesitant hand, but it was inches beyond her grasp. Sprawled
beneath the chairs, she wondered if she could take a chance, scoot out and grab
her most valued bag.
Silence reigned.
Darkness remained.
Alice dithered.
I am not a ditherer, she told herself. Fortunes do not
dither. We fling ourselves headlong into whatever fate tosses our way.
A distant motor rumbled, the sound growing louder, coming
nearer. She wriggled out from underneath the chairs, reaching for the satchel’s
sturdy leather strap.
A door flew open and whacked the opposite wall. Bright
lights stabbed through the thick gloom, streaming through open double doors
opposite the terminal’s street entrance. Silhouetted against the light was a
man, tall and muscular. He strode into the room, grabbed her questing wrist to
haul her out from under the chairs and onto her feet. “Hurry! We haven’t much
time!” he shouted over the beat of a helicopter’s blades, the growl of its
engine.
She stumbled, and her ankle twisted. With a yelp, she
regained her footing and jerked her wrist away. “Who are you?”
“Harry Ashraf. I came to pick you up. You’re Alice Fort,
aren’t you?” His firm, commanding voice reflected an Oxford education and much
impatience.
Harry Ashraf. She peered more closely at him and, despite
the dim and shifting light, recognized him from photos she’d seen: Sheikh
Haroun ibn-Ashraf al-Aghiba, her employer. Hot Harry, the tabloids called him.
The appellation was beyond apt. Large dark eyes, fringed with lashes a woman
would kill for, plus cheekbones higher than Everest and a mouth made for deep
kisses.
A masterful attitude that made her think of hot sex and
multiple orgasms. Not that she’d ever experienced either, but she read a lot.
And hoped. And dreamed.
“Er, yes,” she managed.
“So come on. We haven’t much time. The rebels have cut the
power lines and they mean to take the airport.” He seized her again, and wisdom
told Alice not to resist his strong grasp.
But Fortunes tended to be impulsive, not wise. She tugged
her wrist out of his hold and went for her satchel.
“Leave your bags. Everything you need is at my palace.”
“How do you know what I need?” she shouted at him, straining
to be heard above the helicopter.
“Listen to me! Are these objects, these bags, worth our
lives?”
“Just this one!”
He threw up his hands. “Fine, fine! But come on!” He
sprinted toward the doors.
She grabbed her satchel by its strap and stumbled after him,
passed through the double doors and into a tunnel, the illumination provided by
the helicopter’s lights at its end. He was far ahead of her, and she feared she
was slowing him down too much.
Without warning, he turned and tackled her, shoving his
shoulder into her midsection. He straightened. Grunting, she folded over his
shoulder, draped over him like a poncho.
He ran for the helicopter. Alice clutched her satchel’s
strap with one hand and a loose bit of Harry’s camo flight suit with the other.
Upside down, she squeezed her eyes shut to avoid getting nauseated, and found
herself overwhelmed by other sensations. The hardness of Harry’s body. His male
scent. His strong arm wrapped around her thighs, holding her securely.
Desire thundered through her, but how could she be thinking
about sex? She squirmed. His grip tightened, and need rushed through her in
hot, unwelcome waves. Control yourself. She
breathed deeply, hoping she’d calm.
He raced through the tunnel, out of the terminal, and
pounded across a short stretch of tarmac to the waiting bird. His arm loosened,
and he slid her down the length of his muscular body, then set her on her feet.
Gently.
A wave of dizziness that assailed her. She swayed.
He caught her around the waist. “Hang on.” His arm was
around her, secure and strong.
She gulped and grabbed onto the front of his flight suit.
His chest was solid beneath her scrabbling fingers. She looked up, meeting his
gaze.
He smiled into her eyes, and her heart jumped. Then she
remembered who he was—her boss—and let go of him. He opened the door of the ’copter
and said, “Get in.” Gunfire popped, a little closer, and she gasped. He boosted
her up and into the small round cockpit, seemingly without effort. After he ran
around to his side of the ’copter and jumped in, she noticed he wasn’t panting,
didn’t show the slightest sign of exertion even though he’d just carried a
fifty kilo woman fifty feet and lifted her another ten.
She slid into the ’copter’s seat, then set her satchel on
the floor next to her feet, relieved to hear no clink of broken glass or scrape
of shattered pottery. Fumbling at the unfamiliar, many-strapped seat belt, she tangled
it completely while Harry secured himself and lifted the bird into the air.
