Paranormal Erotic Romance Goddess, Mina Carter, has a Kindle World coming!!! And yours truly was asked to be part of it!!!! Did y’all hear my squeal from where you are? If you didn’t, you might need to get your hearing checked…lol
As the image says, her Paranormal Protection Service series is opening up for authors to play in starting May 2018. Roughly, 3 months from now! And I am one of those authors!
As soon as I have more details, like a cover, a blurb, etc…, I’ll share… But I wanted to let you know now so you could mark your calendars and get all excited and ready!
Since this is an older series of stories, and the one I’m focusing on re-releasing and writing a new story in, I thought I’d give up a few facts about it …
One…The idea for these came from the song S. E. X. by Nickelback from their Dark Horse album. During the writing of all the stories, I listened to Nickelback over and over and over and… well, you get the idea. I loved writing these stories. They were sex excessive. Full of lust and tenderness and so much…sex. They weren’t meant to be more than what they were. They were meant to be fantasies. Unbelievable with a touch of real personality.
Two… It was not supposed to be a series at all. Readers and my editor at Ellora’s Cave asked if I would be interested in writing more. Okay, well, the readers didn’t exactly as so much as told me they wanted Dallon’s story. And, after Dallon, they wanted to know about Jaz. And … after Jaz, they really wanted Mac’s story. Unfortunately, Ellora’s Cave and its authors began having issues around this time and continuing a beloved set of books I may never (at the time) have in my possession again made no sense.
Three… Vinter was who put me on whatever map there was a the time (9-10 years ago). Vinter was my first four figure royalty check. Vinter inspired a couple other authors to take the plunge into writing. Vinter made people drool. Literally. I saw it first hand at conferences.
Four… Vinter was based on a real person whose name was…Vinter. He had a heart of gold and was filthy as could be. He had piercings exactly as I described in the story. As well as the tattoos described in the story. The same color hair. And the nails painted black. And his fiance at the time was a buttoned up, older, college professor. Dallon and Jaz are also based, very loosely, on real people. Carrie, the heroine in Dallon, is based on a real girl I knew in college, though she never strayed from the path of righteousness.
Five… The cars that I talk about in Jaz are based on cars my mother and my grandfather had when I was growing up. I remember riding in the white Dodge Charger with its leather seats and white interior. I didn’t know a thing about cars at that age, but I loved that one. Thinking back on it, while I was writing the story, looking at pictures of it… It was a sexy car.
Of all the books I’ve written, a lot of my early ones, like Simple Need, were among my favorites. They were raw, erotic escapism. They didn’t have to be based in reality. They could simply be fantasies. I love that about reading and I love that about writing.
If you’ve never read them, I hope you’ll give them a try. If you have read them, then I’m sure you’re anticipating the release of Mac in March.
Jaz will go up for pre-order on February 12th and release on February 22nd.
Mac will go up for pre-order on March 5th and release on March 15th.
And don’t forget, Dallon is Now Available in the Kindle store and through Kindle Unlimited!
Buy Dallon Now!
What started out as a pretty typical day, quickly spiraled when Dallon saw her. Buttoned up, full of curves, with a voice smooth as honey and eyes so innocent the flames of Hell warned him to keep on moving.
But then she walked into his bar, out of place and full of determination, and asked him to teach her all the things a downy, pure girl like her didn’t need to know.
What’s a guy like him supposed to do when temptation herself exits the Heavenly Highway straight onto Sin Street? He does the only thing he can do …
Warning: What’s done with a beer bottle in this little story may be illegal in forty-eight out of fifty states…and at least two territories. But they won’t tell, if you don’t.
Author’s Note: This novella was previously published by Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc. It has been lightly revised and edited from it’s original version.
I placed a kiss on her shoulder and pushed inside her. She was still tight, still wet from the all night sex – in every position on every available surface – marathon. Dawn was just breaking the sky.
I’d taken one look at her last night in the restaurant bar and made an instant, insane decision. I’d already been stood up by my business partner and didn’t feel like going home batting zero for a thousand.
No, I’d wanted the woman standing nearest the door, looking for all the world like she was ready to bolt. And I’d gotten her. Money could do a lot of things and where one day I was just another geeky four-eyed nerd in a lab, the next I was rolling in so much green I could had a different woman knocking on my door every evening.
Nothing about her said one night, though. Nothing about her said me. Instead, everything about her said please and right now and delicious.
I’d read her right.
But I might have gotten it all wrong, too. I wouldn’t think about that now. Now was all about her slick heat grasping and clinging to me, sucking me in, pulling at me. Now was all about her straining beneath me, and her bound hands tugging at the headboard.
You can pre-order The Billionaire’s Heiress now from Amazon. The official release date is April 26th…
So, I’ve been writing this story on and off for a while… It’s a rough draft, so, please excuse any typos or grammar errors.
The subject matter is off-putting to a lot of people and while I understand that, well, you don’t have to read it. I, however, am fascinated by the subject matter…
I haven’t decided on a title for the book yet, but Call Me … Is likely to be a series title.
I have a confession to make…
There’s a word that describes me at my core. It’s a word that evokes a lot of emotion when used in a sexual manner. It’s a word that sends pious people running. It’s a word that gets me hard every single time a submissive woman says it, even if she’s not mine.
It’s a provocative word. It encompasses many different roles played between a man and a woman.
It fits me in ways Sir and Master never did or will.
I am a Daddy.
And I’m in search of a little girl to call my own.
She’s difficult to find, this one special girl who needs to be owned and needs my personal brand of ownership. The special girl who wants guidance, limits, support and unconditional love, the same as she’d get from her father. See? You shuddered just a little in your seat. You squirmed a fraction of an inch to the side, trying to get away from the way it makes you feel. I understand it scares you. I understand you don’t get it. Not everyone does. It’s okay. You’ll keep reading, though, won’t you?
You’ll keep reading to see if I find the one special girl whose pretty little cunt is always wet when she utters or even thinks the word Daddy. The one special girl who will let me be her world because she will be mine.
You’ll keep reading because, understanding or not, you desperately love a happy ending, and even deviants like me, should have one.
I don’t frequent clubs. They bore me. More than that. They annoy me. They’re meat markets and juvenile drama. I don’t like either one. I’m a simple man with complex needs. I know I won’t find her here, my out of town business guest wanted to see the club first hand. I don’t get it, but then again, I don’t need to. I’m here to keep him interested in investing and get him a cab when he’s had too much to drink.
The crowd is insane, literally and figuratively. The blonde and her redhead friend keep eyeing me. Blonde’s had her hand between Red’s legs while keeping eye contact with me. They’re putting on a show. And while Red is beautiful and her crotch is bare, just the way I like them to be, neither woman does it for me.
“Excuse me,” I said once I’d caught the bartender’s attention. “Please send drinks to the two at the end of the bar with my regrets.” I lifted my glass in salute to them, drained it, then walked away in search of my charge.
I was ready to be done with the club and the night. I had too much riding on this merger to let him waste it on a cheap piece of ass and bad liquor.
“Andy, time to go.” I found him hanging out in the back hall. Nothing ever good came from hanging out in the back hall of a club.
“I’m waiting on someone. I can’t go now.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand.”
I hadn’t seen that coming, but didn’t let on. “Fine,” I said agreeably. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“He’s my first.”
I didn’t want to know, so I didn’t ask. With a few more minimum protests, I got Andy out of the club, and into the back of a cab. I told the driver where to take him and not to leave until the concierge came to collect Andy. He was paid handsomely for his troubles.
Hopefully, Andy would sleep this off and be able to function in the morning. We had papers to sign.
The strip, Sunset, not Vegas, was alive and kicking, bursting at the seams with clubs, bars, and anyone looking to be seen.
I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to be seen. I wanted things no one who knew me would ever be able to grasp. I wanted a reality that was beyond the norm. I wanted the elusive her.
As it didn’t appear she’d be dropped at my feet on the Strip, it was time for me to get the hell out of Dodge.
No, the woman, the little girl at heart woman I sought wouldn’t be caught dead on Sunset Strip. She wasn’t in a dance club every weekend, or crawling through the bars soaking up alcohol through her skin.
No, she was something unique, special, and she most certainly didn’t —
The voice caught in my ears and rattled through my brain. I turned slowly, casually tucking my hands in my pockets.
My lips twitched at the sight of the woman, balancing herself with a hand to the club’s outer wall, while stripping off the heels she tossed to the concrete with barely concealed hatred.
No woman, or man in their right mind, would walk down Sunset in bare feet, but she seemed intent on doing just that.
She gave the club entrance one final glance, shook her head, kicked one of the offending shoes, and began walking away in a huff. Only, she didn’t get far before she returned for the shoes, and stomped off, this time making it further than before.
I wanted to laugh. She’d been comical, to say the least. But something else grabbed hold of me that wouldn’t let go, and over rode any humor in her actions. Desire. And fear.
She was alone in the middle of the night on a street that could so easily swallow her whole and never let her go.
I caught up to her, and did my best not to spook her. “Miss?”
“What?” She rounded on me, fury in her gaze. I wasn’t deterred in the slightest. The feeling was quite the opposite.
“Do you need help?” I asked, willing to be of whatever service she needed. She was adorable. Cheeks flushed in the neon glow of the businesses surrounding us. Her chest heaved with labored, angry breathing. Her hair was dark, matted to the sides of her face from the club. And she was more than a bit chubby.
That was something else those I worked with were unaware of. My proclivity, my hunger for bigger women. I wasn’t proud that
I never brought a woman of my own choosing to a dinner or party. I wasn’t proud that I’d n3ver given the impression to anyone who knew me professionally that I was anything but a playboy outside the boardroom.
Then again, I wasn’t at work to make friends. I was there to do a job. I was there to close deals and get pen to dotted line.
But looking at the woman in front of me, the one glaring daggers into me? She’d be the one I’d parade in front of everyone I knew and do so with a shit eating grin on my face and my cock hard as a fucking baseball bat.
“Why are you asking? Where did you come from anyway? I didn’t see you before.”
Her words pulled me back to the conversation at hand. “I was just leaving the club when I saw you head this way.”
“And you followed me? Thinking what? The fat girl would be an easy mark?”
I couldn’t stop the smile. “I don’t need or desire an easy mark. I thought you might need some help or a ride somewhere. This isn’t a safe street for any woman alone.”
“Getting into a car with a stranger would be so much safer, yeah?”
“In this instance, yes. Look, I’ll put you in a cab that’ll take you anywhere you need to go, or I’ll give you my car and my driver will do the same.” It wasn’t lost on me that I didn’t put Andy in my car with my driver. The idea had never crossed my mind.
“Only in L.A.,” she uttered quietly.
“In other places, too.” Her eyes widened. “I have excellent hearing.” I shrugged. “Ten years of music classes. So, which option? Cab or limo?”
“If I take you up on use of your car,” she began, hesitancy in her every word, “what will happen to you?”
“He’ll come back for me.”
“I’m sure as hell not walking home. I may run ten miles a day, but I’m not walking home tonight.”
“Ten miles a day,” she scoffed. “Show off. I need to get back to my hotel and I don’t know how far it is or even in what direction. I just knew I wanted out of there.”
I understood her perfectly. I’d wanted out of there too. Had never actually wanted to be there in the first place. I don’t think she had either. “So? My car?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” I assured her. And it was. I may be dominant. I may be a Daddy. I may be a kick ass vice president of a corporation. But she made the most innocent of gestures on my part, a distinct pleasure. Her smile was worth it. Her gaze softening was worth it.
* * *
I haven’t decided on a cover yet, either, but this is will be out later this year…