Monday, July 31, 2023

#NewRelease from Cynthia Terelst: TAKING THE BULL BY THE HORNS

I'm helping Australian romance author Cynthia Terelst celebrate the release of her newest book, TAKING THE BULL BY THE HORNS. It releases today, July 31, 2023. Best of luck with this book, Cynthia!


Love can heal the scars on your heart


So what if I’ve gone through four nannies in three short years? I know what’s best for my children and it’s not the nanny my mother and ex-wife have hired.

Peyton may be all kinds of beautiful but she is totally unsuitable—city girl, former doctor and no experience.

Problem is, everybody loves her. I don’t want to feel the same; one failure at love is enough. Besides, I have a duty to my family and the farm.

Except the more I spend time with her, the more I’m drawn to her honesty and bravery. I need to remember, a farm is no place for a woman like Peyton; she will not stay.


After an accident put an end to my surgical career, I jumped at the opportunity to be a nanny. Moving to Australia will get me away from my controlling family. It’s time I start making my own decisions.

But falling for my boss is not the wisest one I could make, even if it feels right. It doesn’t hurt that his singing makes my panties melt.

Everything is perfect—I feel heard and seen for the first time (and I don’t just mean my scars).

I’m where I belong…until my family get involved. Then I’m left with no job and no home.

Now I need to make the biggest decision of all—stand up to my family, choose my happy and fight for love.


“Peyton.” Lachlan’s voice aroused me from my sleep. I forced my eyes open. I was lying on the couch. Where were the kids? Lachlan reached out for the remote and turned the TV off. I must have fallen asleep during the movie.

“It’s time for bed,” he said.

I didn’t want to move. My eyes were awake, but the rest of my body was in slumberland. My eyes wanted to follow. 

“Do I need to carry you to bed like the kids?”

I let out a soft laugh. “I’m quite a lot heavier than a child.” 

“You don’t think I could?”


Before I could swing my legs around to sit up, Lachlan had lifted me from the couch. I yelped. Then to help him with my weight, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I breathed in grass and man. Good man, not just aftershave and cleanliness. Earth and strength.

I melded into him, swaying with every step he took. Being in his strong arms, I felt secure. I shouldn’t feel like this. But I didn’t try to jump out of his arms. What was I doing? 

“Show off,” I mumbled against his shoulder.

“Just proving you wrong.”

He walked into my room and made his way to my bed.

“Is it wrong to like you?” I asked. My heart beat fast in my chest. Would he think I was stupid?

He lay me down on the bed. His face was shadowed. Was he going to answer?

“No, it’s not wrong.”

He bent down and kissed my temple softly.

Oh, the sweetness of it. I sighed. My eyes closed as my body floated in bliss. 

“I like you too.”

Was I dreaming?

I opened my eyes. He was gone.

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Author Bio:

Cynthia Terelst is an Australian author based in regional Queensland, where the sun shines 283 days a year. She is a document controls manager by day and a writer by night. Her contemporary romance novels share a little bit of history, some Australian scenery and a whole lotta love. Cynthia does not shy away from difficult topics, as she feels they should not be ignored.

Terelst has published seven books in her Love Down Under Series and has added short stories to multiple anthologies. She refers to her writing style as heat with heart. Her stories will leave you feeling warm and hopeful.

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Tuesday, July 25, 2023

#NewRelease from Trevann Rodgers: WAITING FOR THE SON, LGBT Urban Fantasy

Trevann Rodgers joins me today to celebrate the release of WAITING FOR THE SON, book 3 in the Living After Midnight LGBTQ Urban Fantasy series. Best of luck with the new book, Trevann!

WAITING FOR THE SON, Living After Midnight Series, Book 3


The world is on the brink of genocide. Can an incubus rock star really be its only hope?

Cheyenne, the half-human son of the Monarch, is getting beaten up on the regular. He's also fighting with his weretiger boyfriend, holding down his gig in the city's premier nightclub, and taking care of his kids. Adulting is more complicated than he thought it would be.

Someone close to the Monarch is putting the supernatural races at risk. With everyone in his inner circle under suspicion, he asks his son for help unearthing the traitor.

Cheyenne declines. He doesn't have the bandwidth, and politics is not his thing.

When his father's troubles escalate, Cheyenne has no choice but to get involved. If he succeeds, the traitor will be exposed. If he fails, his father will die, and the backstabber will be free to lift the veil of secrecy that protects them all.

Waiting for the Son is the third book in the LGBTQ urban fantasy series Living After Midnight.

Warning: This book features quirky supernatural creatures, a luncheon that makes an orgy look like a made-for-TV movie and an incubus who makes you hope what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.


The standing-room-only crowd at Underhill had been into his new songs. Guys and girls alike had been in sync with him, swaying when he swayed and smiling when he smiled. His skin tingled with all the positive energy—until a voicemail from Unakite City Elementary School sucked all the happy out of him.

Cheyenne thumbed off his phone and tossed it onto the sofa in his dressing room. No sense in getting agitated. He couldn't find out what new crime his kid had committed until Monday morning. So instead, he changed out of his leather and chains performance gear and into more comfortable jeans and a black tee-shirt before packing up his guitar. 

His footsteps echoed as he made his way through the empty club to the alarm panel. Eric, the manager, appreciated the chance to leave early, ensuring he made it to wherever he lay to rest before the sun came up. 

Chey didn't like the vampire and owed him no favors. He didn't have to be the last to leave, and Eric knew it. Chey stayed when it worked for him, either because a fan-with-benefits caught his eye or he needed extra time to come down from the post-concert high. 

He punched in his code and turned on the alarm. A sense of peace washed over him as the whirring of the industrial fans slowed, the florescent blue lights faded, and internal doors locked with a mechanical swoosh that reverberated throughout the cavernous building. The click-click of the alarm system started a rhythmic chant signaling it was time to leave or risk being trapped inside.

The club's rear double doors closed behind him with a clang. Underhill's parking was never adequate for the number of people attending his shows, but Cheyenne always arrived early to be sure he parked close to the building. With his history of getting jumped in alleys and parking lots, he wasn't taking any chances. At least Gre'gori, the owner, had installed adequate lighting. 

He headed to the Cutlass, his ever-faithful ride. She stood waiting right where he left her, dependable if not shiny and new. Not that a bit of wear and tear was a problem. It kept anyone from thinking she was worth stealing or vandalizing. One day he'd be able to afford a new ride, something bigger and fancier, but even then, he'd keep this pretty green thing, maybe give her to the kids one day so she'd stay in the family. But for now, she was all his, like his guitar, the other important inanimate object in his life. 

"Hey there, sweetness." He patted her roof affectionately, placed his guitar case on the passenger seat, and froze. The acrid taste of challenge and jealousy, something like burnt marshmallow and ash, assaulted his senses.

Jeeze. Not again. Was the entire population of incubi out to kill him? 

Buy Link: 

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Author Bio:

Trevann Rogers writes rock star romances, urban fantasy, and LGBT paranormal romances. Her books include HOUSE OF THE RISING SON and AFTER MIDNIGHT: The Beginning. 

Her short stories appear in the anthologies Dangerous Curves Ahead: An Anthology, and Wickedly Ever After. 

Each story incorporates an unquenchable addiction to music and Trevann's love for vampires, Weres, incubi and rock stars. She writes long after the sun goes down because, like these elusive creatures, she learned long ago that sometimes being yourself means Living After Midnight. 

Trevann lives in Connecticut with Toby, her 10-year-old rescue puppy, and Lil Monkey, a sock monkey who thinks he's real but refuses to chip in on the mortgage.

Trevann's internet home is

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For up-to-date information about releases

Monday, July 24, 2023

Booksweeps Small Town Giveaway!

 Today, I have a fun surprise to share with you...

I’ve teamed up with 45+ fantastic authors to give away a huge collection of Small Town

Romances to 2 lucky winners!

Oh, and did I mention the Grand Prize winner gets a BRAND NEW eReader? ��

You can win my novel LIES AND SOLACE, plus books from authors like JILL SHALVIS and


Enter the giveaway by clicking here �


Good luck and enjoy!

Tuesday, July 11, 2023

#NewRelease from Lisbet Sarai: BY MOONLIGHT

Lisabet Sarai joins me today with a look at her new release, BY MOONLIGHT a lesbian historical romance. Lisabet says the inspiration for this story comes from the poem THE HIGHWAYMAN by Alfred Noyes ( The biggest change from the poem, aside from BY MOONLIGHT being a lesbian romance, is that it has a happy ending rather than a tragic one. She made it a true romance! Welcome Lisabet!

Don’t Throw Anything Away

Inspiration is fickle. One day you’ll be seized by an idea that just won’t let you go. You throw yourself into the writing, intoxicated by the process of creation, certain this will be the best book you’ve ever produced. The sentences and paragraphs flow, the story taking shape on the page almost without effort.

Then, suddenly and inexplicably, the fire dies out. The magic evaporates, and you’re left to plod along, trying dutifully to complete the opus to which you’ve devoted your time, despite your doubts about its quality. 

If you’re trying to make a living writing, you can’t afford to wait for the muse. You’ve got to produce. If, like me, you write primarily for the joy of the process, you may abandon the entire project when your inspiration disappears.

That’s what happened with By Moonlight. For years, I’d wanted to write an erotic tale based on the Alfred Noyes poem “The Highwayman”. One day the stars aligned. I sat down and wrote the first chapter in a couple of hours. It turned out exactly as I’d imagined it, both lyrical and arousing. I was chuffed, as my UK author friends would say, eager to push the tale forward.

The next weekend, though, when I sat down to continue, I discovered that inspiration had fled. The whole notion seemed silly. I really couldn’t force myself to write any more.

So I put the barely-started tale aside and worked on something else. I always have lots of potential projects in mind, far more than my writing time allows.

That was four years ago. I’d almost forgotten By Moonlight. Then a stormy night recently reminded me of the poem, and the poem reminded me of the story. When I pulled it up and re-read it, I was freshly impressed and determined to complete it. 

After such a long lag, I worried that I wouldn’t be able to recreate the tone of that intense first installment. Fortunately I was able to get feedback from my online critique partners, who helped me to adjust the language and the atmosphere appropriately. All in all, I’m happy with the result. I think I’ve managed to fulfill my intentions, offering homage to the Noyes poem while twisting the story in an original (and happier) direction.

The lesson here, though, is clear. If you are an author, don’t throw anything away! Keep all your snippets, all your abandoned projects, all your monuments to the departed muse.

You really never know when inspiration will return.


I’ll come for you by moonlight – though Hell should bar the way

In her eighteen years on earth, Bess has never traveled more than twenty miles from her Devonshire village. The raven-haired innkeeper’s daughter has little time to dream of adventure as she labors from dawn to dusk to keep her abusive father satisfied.

Then, at the weekly market in Tavistock town, she meets a handsome dandy who claims her with a single stolen kiss. When the gallant gentleman makes a midnight visit to the inn, Bess learns that her new lover is none other than Kit Latour, a notorious French highwayman who has been boldly relieving the local nobility of their valuables. Well-aware of the risk she’s taking, Bess still offers herself to the seductive outlaw. Even Kit’s darkest secrets cannot quench the flames of her love.


She must have drowsed, despite her determination to remain on guard. She heard no hoof beats clattering in the inn yard, no tapping on the barred shutters, only a soft whistle under her window that had her instantly alert.

She leaned out, her hair spilling over the casement. “Kit!” she cried, heedless of anyone hearing. “You’ve come at last.”

“Well met, my fair lady.” The lithe figure below gave a little bow. “Did you doubt me?”

“No doubt, my love, only fear. Your fame has spread wide. There be many who’d delight in spilling your blood.”

“Even more after tonight, I’ll wager. I’ve had rich takings along the high road. A fat, dyspeptic earl and his broomstick wife contributed generously to my cause.”

“Lord Haverstock? Oh Kit, he has the King’s ear.” She shrank back into the shadows of her bedroom, then peered anxiously into the distance. She almost expected to see His Majesty’s troops mustering on the country lane. “Why must you take such risks?”

Kit chuckled. “Without risk, life wouldn’t be worth living.” The bandit grasped the gnarled ivy vines that clung to the old inn and clambered up to the second floor. In moments, Bess was face to face with her beloved. 

What was her Kit thinking, to ride in such finery against the wealthy and powerful? The coat was burgundy velvet, worn over a pure white linen shirt with a ruffle of lace at the throat. Supple doe-skin boots rose half-way up those strong thighs. The jeweled hilt of a dagger glittered at Kit’s waist. The hungry light in the bandit’s eyes burned brighter still.

“Oh, Bess, how I’ve missed you!”  Kit seized her, crushing her against the velvet, and captured her mouth. Bess pressed her soft body against her lover’s harder form, savoring the heady mixture of familiar comfort and forbidden arousal she always felt in Kit’s arms. A brazen tongue ravaged her mouth while knowing hands slipped under her shift to palm her buttocks and pull her closer still.

“Take this off, girl, before I rip it from your limbs,” Kit gasped, tugging at the fabric that hid her flesh. “I cannot wait another instant.”

Not so long ago she’d been a bashful virgin, but there was no shyness in her now. She pulled the garment over her head and tossed it onto the chair, shaking her long hair free.  Moonlight from the window made her pale skin glow. Kit’s eyes roamed over her nakedness. She’d never felt so beautiful, or so needy.

Buy Links:

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About Lisabet:

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, LGBTQ, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (, along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (, she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: