Birthday Man Candy

Yep! Today is my birthday and I am still in the giving mood. New excerpts will start posting around 9am EST and today we’ve got more Ava March, which I just never get enough of, and we have Selena Illyria, and Samantha Kane, just to name a few. I’ve tossed in a couple of my own excerpts as well.

This has been a fun thing and I hope it’s all going well for y’all because it’s the first one I’ve ever done. I’m a little shaky about it, wanting to make sure I do everything right and make sure that all of you are enjoying reading, seeing a few pics, and maybe even learning about some new to you authors.

After the excerpts today, I’ll post the list of eBooks being gifted next week when I start picking winners, so, tell your friends, other authors, editors, anyone to come read, comment, follow, and have a chance at winning! This is my birthday present…giving back to the readers.

This was sent to me yesterday on my Myspace page from Scott Noir and I thought it very appropriate! Don’t y’all?

  Then there’s…

And another friend of mine donated a few pics to this very worthy cause…

Yeah, instead of this hot coffee I’m drinking, I might need to grab a handful of…ice.

So, y’all ready for some more hot, very NAUGHTY excerpts? 

Ace of Cakes

I don’t know about all of you, but I love Duff! Watch him religiously and might just get the Ace of Cakes book for myself! Would be a nice birthday present, yes? grins…

My daughter and I have been watching Ace of Cakes since the series started on Food Network. We first saw him when he did Food Network Challenges. I was so intrigued by the power tools!

What is a birthday without some cake?

And, I have decided that next year, when I turn 40, I’m headed to Baltimore and Charm City Cakes! Guess I best get that order in now, huh?


These guys are just awesome. They are such characters and Mary Alice has a different hair-do each episode. Jeff is a bit on the odd side, as is Ben. Elena is a trip and the artistic ability of all the decorators just blows my mind. Only Duff has been to pastry school. They are casual and they seem fun. Who wouldn’t want to work in a place where you can dress however you want, create, laugh, play, and make people happy? Hmmm… Kinda sounds like being an author. 


The Seductive Sierra Cartwright

Sierra writes HOT HOT HOT contemporary BDSM. She’s a bit of a mystery, but once you read one of her books, you’ll be drawn back to her time and time again.

Genre: BDSM, Multicultural
Length: Novel
Available Now from Loose Id:
Author Website:


Tall, dark, handsome, and oh-so dangerous.

That’s Trace Romero, Aimee’s new bodyguard. Aimee has no desire to share her home with anyone, especially a Hawkeye operative who invades her space and thoroughly dominates her.

If it were up to him, Trace would be in a South American jungle, mixing it up with bad guys instead of playing bodyguard to the uptight college professor who makes him anything but welcome. But when he finds a stash of her BDSM novels, protecting the professor’s body suddenly gets more interesting.

Aimee would send him on his way, if her sister weren’t so concerned about the break in at her house, and if she hadn’t threatened protective custody. But protective custody might have been slightly less overwhelming than Trace demanding her complete capitulation, mind and body, and more — her total trust. But that trust may be the only thing standing between her and a madman determined to kill her.

Publisher’s Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, BDSM theme and content, violence.


“Offer yourself to me,” he reminded her. “Beg me.”
She noticed the bulge at his crotch. He was as turned on as she was. That knowledge was heady and all she needed. Rather than succumbing to embarrassment like she ordinarily would, she kept her gaze focused below his belt and as she cupped her breasts in her palms. Quietly she said, “I want you to suck on my nipples.”
“Look at me.”
The words, in the silence, were a whiplash.
She looked up and kept her gaze focused on his face. Drawing a steadying breath, she softly said, “Please, Trace, suck on my nipples. I need…”
He waited in that patient, maddening way of his.
“I need your touch. I want to feel your hands on me. I want your mouth on my breasts, your tongue on my nipples.” She lifted her breasts a bit. “Please, Trace.” And she did want it, need it, need him.
His motions deliberate, he unfolded his arms. Her legs felt weak as nerve suddenly deserted her. Then he was there, his arms around her, supporting her, one palm pressed against the palm of her back, the other cradling her nape.
He lowered his head to capture a nipple between his tongue and top teeth. Then he sucked, hard.
Her knees buckled.
He caught her, sweeping her from the ground and carrying her down the hallway to her bedroom.
“Please,” she whispered.
“I haven’t even started with you yet,” he promised.
He placed her on the bed while he put his pistol on the nightstand. She was so caught up with what he was doing that she didn’t even protest the gun being in her bedroom. Her arms fell to her sides as she surrendered to him. He sucked her right nipple while he pinched the other between his thumb and forefinger. She arched her back, asking for more.
“Keep still,” he told her.
“Keep still?” Had he lost his mind? Because she was definitely losing hers. She’d never experienced anything like this, exquisite and painful, creating a demand from the inside out.
“Part of your lessons,” he said, returning to her nipple and torturing it relentlessly.
She’d taken the first steps, she realized, and he was exerting his will more powerfully. He’d force her to be an active participant. Already she was learning there was nothing passive about being involved with him.
She began to squirm. Heat flooded her body. She wanted more. More pressure. More intensity. She wanted to orgasm.
“Distract yourself,” he said. “Think about something else, anything else other than how your body is responding to what I’m doing. Think about the fact I want you to keep still. Think about pleasing me.”
“Can,” he told her. “You can. You’re a runner. Breathe. Use the same techniques you use there.”
“But –”
“Breathe.” He suckled, gently at first, then with unyielding force.
She squirmed. She was coming undone. He couldn’t possibly have any idea what he was asking of her, demanding of her. He’d assigned her a task, and she was doomed to failure. Staying still was nearly impossible with the way he tormented her. She’d never realized how sensitive her nipples were, never knew she could get so totally turned on from breast play.
She tried to follow his instructions.
When the only thing she could think of was how much she wanted to come, she forced her thoughts to her project and looming deadline. She met his gaze, saw the slight smile that toyed with his lips before he moved that skilful mouth to the tip of her other breast.
She wanted to do what he said, she realized, wanted to please him, wanted to see him smile at her.
He moved one of his hands between her legs. Helplessly, shamelessly, she ground her crotch against him, wishing she’d taken off her shorts, and he responded, pushing his thumb against her swollen clit. When she could no longer breathe in a controlled way, she settled for panting. Hearing his instructions echoing in her mind, she tried to fight the orgasm. She tried to hold it back, tried to keep still.
He moved to her other nipple and bit. She cried out.
The orgasm caught her. In a powerful wave, it crashed into her, over her.
She moved faster and faster against him, riding the wave of the climax, her pussy clenching.
He kept doing what he was doing as she ground it out, damn near achieving a second orgasm.
She was shattered. Complete. Overwhelmed. He continued to hold her in his strong arms, offering support and whispering soft, reassuring sounds.
Seconds later, when her breathing had returned to normal and her brain regained its functionality, she realized he was lying beside her. She placed her head on his chest and said, “That never happens quite so fast.”
“You’re as responsive as I hoped.” He kissed her forehead.
She’d always believed there was something wrong with her. When she’d been at MIT, her roommates had talked about their experiences, and she didn’t have much to share in return. She slept with few men, achieved the big O with even fewer. It seemed her friends enjoyed sex a whole lot more than she did. But now she was wondering if she’d just been with the wrong men.
“How are you feeling?”
“Satisfied.” She wanted to wrap her arms around herself. “I’d love to curl up and drift off to sleep for a few minutes.” Even better, she wanted him to hold her as she dozed. And when she awoke, maybe they could do it all over again.
After only a minute, maybe two, she lifted her head off his chest, not entirely sure she was comfortable with the intimacy. She wasn’t the kind of woman who relied on men, who turned to them for comfort. Self-sufficient, and independent, she needed no one. She ignored the little whisper inside that said it might be nice to allow someone to get close, might be nice to share the load, might be nice to have someone to hold onto, at least sometimes.
She met his gaze. Was it possible to get lost in the depths of his eyes?
A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, until he said, “You were disobedient.”
That got her attention.
“You didn’t have permission to come, sub.”
“But…” She needed permission to orgasm?
“I told you to distract yourself, to think about anything but the way I was pleasuring. I told you to keep still, to concentrate on pleasing me.” He paused, maybe to let his words sink in. “This time, I’m feeling generous. I’ll let you choose your own punishment.”
Sleepiness was banished. Nerves dried her mouth. “You want me to choose my own punishment? For orgasming without permission?”
His gaze returned to the collection of books on the bottom shelf. “I think you know exactly what I’m asking of you.”
Erotic fear churned inside her.
This man would never let her off the hook. Secretly, she didn’t want him to.
She had already started to trust him. Her sister had handpicked him, and the older Inamorata would kick his ass from Colorado to Colombia if he hurt her, and the long arm of Hawkeye would hunt him down wherever he tried to hide. Despite those realizations, terror made her freeze in place.
“But I will tell you this. No matter what punishment you choose, it will start with you being totally naked,” he said.
While he was still dressed. Suddenly she knew that was part of it. He was stripping her defenses, one by one, starting with her ponytail, continuing with her sports bra, and now with the rest of her clothing. She saw the power in it. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
 Just for the record, I wanna be Sierra when I grow up!

The Jovial Juniper Bell

Juniper and I had our first Samhain books come out very close together and I know she was a great support to me and I hope I was the same to her. We did our first promotional chat for the books together and laughed through it the whole time because neither of us had done it before at that particular location. It was fun and I have enjoyed having her as a friend. We have been able to help one another through good and not so good when it comes to this business. She’s got wicked skills, too…smiles

Genre: Contemporary
Length: Novella
Available from Liquid Silver Books
Author Website:


For Annie Swenson, only one cure works better than psychotherapy… Annie’s afraid of heights, she’s afraid of crowds, and she’s not too crazy about flying. When her therapist orders her to take a vacation, she picks remote Cat Island in the Bahamas, hoping to hide away. Mortified to find she’s the only single woman at the resort, she pretends the handsome, mysterious stranger behind her in the buffet line is her boyfriend. He goes along with the charade … for a price! The choice is simple: reveal her sham or go along with his erotic, boundary-pushing games. Annie’s life will never be the same after her sensual encounters with The Extremist.


Next to her was the remarkable, amazing presence of Martin. She had never been so intensely aware of anyone in her life. She knew when he reached for his glass. She knew when he looked out at the dark ocean. She knew when he wanted to change the direction of the conversation. Every time she glanced over at him, he met her eyes with a look of amused approval.

He was either a hallucination or an angel.

Gratefully, she shifted her chair to be closer to him. She leaned her body into his and rubbed her cheek on his shoulder. Looking up, she caught that playful smile she was beginning to adore, but this time, it had a wicked edge to it.

He turned to Missy and Daryl and leaned forward to ask them an innocuous question about their last trip to the Bahamas. At the same time, a big warm hand touched her knee, and Annie bit back a startled shriek. The hand squeezed until she gained control of herself. Then it began a slow, teasing march up her thigh.

“Did you enjoy Nassau?” Martin asked, looking extremely interested in the Hertzbergers’ response.
Meanwhile, his hand pushed under the edge of her skirt, and Annie bit the inside of her lip. He smoothed her inner thigh, making circular patterns on the tender skin. His palm was surprisingly rough-skinned. Did he work with his hands?

“Oh sure, I think it’s thoroughly stunning,” she heard Martin say, and from the teasing tone of his voice, she knew he was referring to her. His hand gently pulled her leg so it brushed against his. She felt a finger pull back the edge of her panties, and fresh air moved against her private parts. She couldn’t stop a surprised little gasp from escaping.

“Are you okay, Annie?” asked Missy.

“Yes,” she said in a strangled tone.

“Take a sip of wine,” said Martin, and the quietly masterful tone in his voice made her obey instantly. As she sipped from her glass, Martin took the opportunity to pull her panties completely away from her sex. She held the glass in front of her burning face, as though admiring the wine.

My God, she was entirely exposed to anyone who happened to be under the table. No one was, but the thought brought a flutter of terror. At the same time, it made moisture drip down her thighs.

Martin’s thumb was now holding back her panties while his fingers went on a determined quest through the wet folds of her sex. He found her clitoris and teased it with his forefinger, pressing it, circling it. His finger left her for a moment to dip into her heated sex. She felt its curious exploration; each little movement sent new shocks through her body. Then the finger withdrew, and it felt like eons before it returned, slick from her wetness, to continue rubbing her clitoris. Although she didn’t dare look at him, she felt his satisfied smile.

Annie thought she might die from the excruciating sensations he was creating. She couldn’t bear it another moment. She had to make him stop, but when she tried to close her legs, he pinched her clitoris just enough to make her yelp.

“Did you say something, Annie?” Missy flicked her cigarette ash into the clamshell ashtray.

“Did you get bitten by one of those bugs, honey?” said Martin tenderly. “They’ve been driving me crazy all night.” He took her whole crotch in his hand and gripped it tightly.

“Maybe it’s time to go inside,” she managed with a remarkable degree of dignity.

“One more glass, what do you all say?” said Martin, with an infectious enthusiasm that made Daryl pour another round. “We’re on vacation, darling. We don’t want to disappoint your friends, do we?” He winked at her.

Disappoint her friends? Annie got the message. If she didn’t let him continue, he might expose their charade to Missy and Daryl. No matter what he did, it wouldn’t be worse than that humiliation. No doubt about it, Martin was in control here. He had all the cards. The only question was, what did he intend to do with them?

As she gripped the edge of her chair, he showed her. He stroked her until her sex was pulsing with red-hot need, until she had to bite down on her lip to keep from screaming. She summoned every ounce of willpower – every particle of control – to keep her face still and her body immobile. He plunged two fingers inside her, then three. When it felt like his whole hand was inside her body, he pulled her forward, so she had to shift to the very edge of the chair. That changed his angle so his wrist could rub against her throbbing clitoris.

Annie felt the world had split in two. Beneath the table, her body was on fire. Her legs were quivering; her sex, screaming for release. Above the table, she was a calm statue with an interested smile plastered to her face. Daryl was in the middle of a long story about a trip to Australia, and luckily, Annie only had to nod now and then. This she did, at random moments.

She completely lost the thread of the story when the heel of Martin’s hand ground into her clitoris. A rush of pleasure overwhelmed her, and she could no longer even make out the other couple’s faces. Everything was a blur: Missy’s head thrown back to draw on a cigarette, Daryl’s arm draped across the back of her chair, the swaying palm trees, the hanging lanterns, and the wait staff lounging around a nearby table. The scent of the sea drifted from the beach and seemed to join with the sharp taste of wine swirling through her senses in a wild tsunami. She balanced on the unbearable edge of a tall cliff, dying to fall, terrified to fall. Despite herself, she pressed into that insistent hand. She felt the flush on her face, felt her breath coming faster through her clenched lips.

“Have a little more wine, darling,” she heard Martin say. How on earth could he sound so calm, when he held a handful of dripping, scalding crotch? Jerkily, she moved to obey. “Here, let me,” he said, as her hands shook. He reached in front of her, blocking her from the Hertzbergers, and in that instant, he tightened his grip, inside and out, as if making a fist around her privates. Now she had no choice. Burying her face into his back, she rocketed over the edge into a freefall of ecstasy. She didn’t know where she was anymore. All she was, all she wanted to be, was a pile of hot, wet, pulsing flesh being shaken and squeezed by that relentless lion’s paw of a hand.

As the spasms died away, Martin slowly sat back. With one part of her mind, Annie wondered what she could possibly look like now. Were her eyes glassy, her face red? The rest of her mind was still below the table, where Martin’s hand patted her twitching flesh and smoothed her wet curls. She desperately wanted to close her legs, but still he wouldn’t let her. Not until he’d had his fill of caressing her, put her panties back into place, and pulled her skirt back to her knees. Then he closed her legs and gave her a gentle pat on the knee.

The Delectable Desiree Holt

I have just recently met Desiree online through a new blog that is still in the forming stages. She’s a sweet woman and is just loved by her readers. She writes hot cowboys for Ellora’s Cave and just won two awards last weekend from The Romance Studio.


Maybe it’s the animalistic heat of the rodeo—or the pin with special powers that the old woman all but forces her to buy…
Whatever it is, within seconds of meeting rodeo rider Ben Lovell, Grace Delany’s safe world crumbles in a voluptuous explosion of lust. Every night is something new. From the handcuffs to the intriguing sex toys, Grace gives in to it all, relishing her body’s responses to this younger man. As Ben leads her from one earth-shattering climax to another, as her body softens and opens to him, all she can do is hang on for dear life and follow his lead.
But when the rodeo is over, it may prove impossible to walk away from the man who’s taken her on an outrageous journey of self-discovery…a man with no sexual limits or boundaries.
Genre: Contemporary, Younger Man/Older Woman
Length: Novel
Author Website: 


He moved his mouth over her body as if drawing a map with it, tasting every nook and crevice, seeking her pleasure spots and dwelling a long time on them. His open-mouthed kisses on her heated skin sent shafts of electricity through her, igniting nerves already snapping and firing.
His cock pressed against the soft skin of her inner thigh and her hands suddenly itched to touch it and hold it. Pulling Ben’s head up from its drifting path down to her pussy, she smiled at him. “Stop.”
His eyebrows raised. “Stop? Am I doing something wrong? Something you don’t like? Just tell me—”
“No. You’re doing everything just right. But I want to play too.” She pushed at his shoulders.
“And just what is it you want to do?” he asked, his eyes bright with curiosity as he rolled onto his back.
Wondering where this spurt of boldness had come from, she shifted onto her knees next to him, her gaze riveted to his erection which pointed directly at her. Tentatively she reached out a finger to touch the bead of fluid sitting like a viscous marble atop the slit. Rubbing it back and forth along the velvet surface, she watched the thick stalk bob under her touch and saw Ben’s thigh muscles tighten.
She hadn’t done this since Joe’s death. The few men she’d had sex with hadn’t appealed to her this way at all. Sometimes she wondered if they really appealed to her in any way. Worried that maybe she just wasn’t a sexual person.
No. Wait. Then she wouldn’t be where she was doing what she was. Right?
Inquisitively, she bent her head and licked the surface of the purple head with the tip of her tongue, swiping it back and forth two or three times, loving the slightly salty taste of the fluid and the sensation of the soft skin against her tongue. Her fingers barely wrapped around the thick length of him but she felt the steel beneath the supple covering. She unclasped him and ran one finger the length of the heavy vein, feeling the blood pulsing through it.
“Am I doing this right?” she asked, her voice tremulous, unable to look at him as she waited for his answer.
“Are you kidding?” Ben asked in a strangled voice, one large hand coming up to squeeze her buttocks. “I think you’re trying to torture me.”
Grace’s laugh held just a hint of uncertainty. “Just finding out what you feel like. How you feel.”
His hand moved in slow strokes on the cheek of her ass. “Surely this isn’t the first one you’ve ever seen or felt,” he joked.
“Believe it or not, the first in bright light. At least for longer than I want to remember.”
Because the others didn’t bear looking at. Except for Ben.
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