Can a high school romance that never happened have a second life in a small town?
Tracey Baker got out of Blakes Creek to find her purpose in life. She found it in the theatre scene in New York, but after ten years, she’s ready for a change. Working for the community theatre in her hometown is just what she needs—until she sees Ryan Greene.
Ryan Greene crushed on Tracey Baker in school, but he never thought she’d come back to Blakes Creek. When he sees her at the theatre, he’s determined to win her heart. His daughter Maisey is just as determined. She likes Tracey and sets out to prove her dad is Tracey’s Prince Charming.
Love might conquer all, but with the eyes and ears of the town focused on their relationship, Ryan and Tracey will have to prove they can set the stage alight together.
“Ryan?” Tracey held a clipboard and one of the glittery chorus girl dresses. “Do you have a second?”
“I do.” He’d rather run. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Busy. You seem busy, too.” She smiled. “You’re doing well with the sets. I can’t wait to see them in action.”
“Thanks.” Was he blushing? The tips of his ears burned. “The costumes looked good. I haven’t seen them all, but I bet they’re great.”
“Oh, they’re not done yet. I still have to get everyone fitted properly and figure out where to add more glitz like Derek wants.” She fiddled with the garment in her hands. “I wanted to talk to you about Maisey.”
“What did she do?” He steeled himself for her answer. Maisey could tell tales and made things seem worse than reality. She craved attention, too.
“It’s not anything she did.” Tracey left the stage and strode out to the audience. “Here. This is less invasive. No, it’s what happened.”
“What happened? Did she try to set us up? She thinks I need another wife.” Shit. He shouldn’t have said that. “Sorry.”
Tracey paled. “Another? How many have you had?”
“One. Carol. It didn’t work out.” He shook his head. “Honestly, I’m not looking to date anyone.” He could be convinced if the right woman asked him on a date—like Tracey.
“Uh…she didn’t say anything about a date or a wife.” Tracey fumbled with the dress and perched on one of the seatbacks. “No, she was wearing another girl’s costume because the other girl wanted Maisey to be able to dance in the performance.”
He wobbled onto the seatback one aisle behind hers. “Come again? Maisey did what?”
“Maisey wants to dance, and she’s in the class showing she can do it. One of the girls, a friend, gave her the wrong costume—the friend’s—so Maisey wouldn’t have to pay for it and could participate. I asked Maisey, and she said her dad couldn’t afford for her to dance.”
He had to be honest, but he hated the embarrassment. “I work two jobs, and I don’t have the time or money for dance. I barely keep us fed.” He tried to hide his shame. Tracey didn’t need to see him upset. If he hadn’t been saddled with Jessica’s debts, he’d be better off.
“Do you mind if she takes part in the recital?” Tracey asked. “I saw her practice with the other girls, and she’s good. She deserves to dance. She’ll have a costume, if you’ll let her, since I took her measurements. Actually, she’s already got one.”
“How much?” He’d have to shuffle a few things to find the money, but he had to give Maisey this.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com.
When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.
Taboo contemporary erotic romance (Five flames) BDSM/Ménage/Multiple partners/lesbian/gay Approximately 87,000 words, 293 pages HEA ending
During the day, Miranda Cahill works diligently on her doctoral thesis. At night, she has sex with strangers.
Public coupling, multiple partners, age play, spankings, bondage, lesbian lust—each salacious adventure exposes new dimensions of her depravity. Her secret life explodes when she realizes her masked partner at a kink club and the charismatic colleague courting her are in fact the same man.
Dickens scholar Mark Anderson seems like an affable, uncomplicated Midwesterner, but he has hidden depths, myriad talents, and an unlimited appetite for erotic variety. With Mark as her guide, Miranda comes to accept the intricacy of her own desires, as well as to trust her heart.
Reader Advisory: This novel is an erotic romance featuring a committed relationship and culminating in a wedding. Nevertheless, the main characters participate in a wide range of taboo sexual activities, both together and separately.
Excerpt (Rated R)
“Lovely,” sighed a cultured feminine voice, close to her ear. “Don’t you agree?”
Miranda whirled round, startled and embarrassed. She hadn’t realized that she had companions in her blatant voyeurism.
They were young, close to her own age, and enough alike in stature and demeanor that they could have been siblings. Both had thick brunette hair. His was brushed back from his brow, while she wore hers in a bob with blunt bangs. They were both clad in tight black jeans and tank tops that highlighted every curve and swelling of their athletic bodies. Prominent nipples capped her small breasts, clearly visible through the clinging fabric. His half-engorged organ was equally obvious.
Of course both of them wore masks. Near-identical brown eyes gleamed behind their dominoes. It was their mouths, though, that captured Miranda’s attention, their ripe perfect lips inviting, sensuous, bowed in the perpetual promise of a smile.
Miranda ached to kiss those mouths, to trace their luscious curves with the tip of her tongue. She felt the ache in her throat, in her chest, in her painfully taut nipples, in the damp, hungry recesses of her sex. Her palms yearned to glide over those smooth thighs, those flat bellies. She wanted them, both of them, craved them in a visceral way that was totally new to her.
She stifled a moan, and took the hand the woman extended.
“I’m Marla,” the other woman said, her voice melodious and a bit husky. “And this is Marcus.” The young man smiled mysteriously but said nothing. “We were admiring your costume.”
It took Miranda a moment to recall the red velvet jumpsuit that she had chosen from Lucy’s wardrobe. It was defiantly flamboyant, clinging to her body like a sensuous second skin. A gold-colored zipper ran from the scoop neck down to her navel. Matching zippers adorned her wrists and ankles. She knew that the color suited her, contrasted with the hair spilling over her shoulders like a river of jet. She also knew how obvious it was that she was naked underneath the velvet. Not a shy garment, but perhaps just right for tonight.
Choked with desire, she found it difficult to speak. “Thank you,” she managed, finally, then couldn’t resist asking, “Are you twins?”
They gave similar, musical laughs. “Not exactly,” said the one called Marcus. “But we enjoy pretending.”
On June 16th, I will randomly select one grand-prize winner who’ll get a $10 gift certificate, plus two runner-ups who can choose any ebook from my indie back list.
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, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
Hey friends! Seelie Kay stopped by to tell us about her sizzling new release “Vive La Resistance”. A must read for PNR lovers who love a dash of suspense!
Paranormal Romance, Romantic Suspense, Contemporary Romance, Fantasy
Three flames, 21+
An Interview with Seelie Kay:
Q. Why do you write romance?
Since the onset of the pandemic, I have totally changed my attitude toward writing romance. While I was long enamored of the happily-ever-after because it brought me and readers joy, I have concluded that my true purpose in writing romance is to give me and my readers hope. Let’s face it, the pandemic has been traumatic—for everyone. It evolved into one of the most chaotic situations of our time, something we had never before experienced. I was grasping at anything that would give me hope and found myself turning daily to romance books and tales of finding or sustaining love. So now, I write to give people hope.
Q. Do you prefer a certain type of romantic hero?
That also changed during the pandemic. While I still adore smart, dashing gentlemen who aren’t afraid to live on the edge, I found myself focusing more on principled men, those willing to fight for what they believe in. And now, you will that find my heroes also have a strong sense of family. They value the support a family can provide. Of course, the definition of “family” varies and comprises more than the traditional assortment of parents, siblings, and relatives.
However, these “heroes” continue pair with strong, independent women who aren’t afraid to fight for what they want, even love.
Q. Why did you write “Vive la Resistance?”
At the foundation of this book is the belief that people cannot be afraid to speak out against wrongs, especially those inflicted on others, and they must be willing to fight against evil, even at the risk of death. Soldiers and peacekeepers do that every day. We live in turbulent times. It is so easy to say, “Not my problem,” and turn away. But sometimes, you don’t have that choice. You have to stand up and fight back. Donovan Trait is a vampire lawyer. In the human world, a very respected lawyer. Now he must use his skills to save the half-bloods—vampires whose blood is mixed with human or Were. What began as a Vampire Coalition vendetta against his turned wife, Judge Shirley Magnusen, who gave birth to half-blood twins in violation of her marital agreement, has extended to the elimination of all half-bloods. A campaign of genocide. However, this is not a battle that can occur with boots on the ground in the presence of humans and Weres. It must be fought in the shadows to prevent exposing the vampire world to humans. So it must be fought virtually, and soon it becomes clear that the resistance may be winning battles, but the Vampire Coalition will never concede the war. The final battle must occur in person. Sacrifices will be made, lives will be lost, and the vampire world will be shattered. But the real question is, what will emerge from the ashes? Vive la Resistance (Long Live the Resistance)!
Things are gonna get messy…
An illegal union, a banned birth, a Great Lie, and now, genocide. Vampire lawyer Donovan Trait and his wife, chemically-turned Judge Shirley Magnusen, are battling for their lives and the lives of their children. The Vampire Coalition wants them dead, but now the despots have also decided to expand their net, targeting any vampire whose blood is mixed with human or Were. Half-bloods are already treated like dirt by the Vampire Nation. They have been subjected to centuries of discrimination and cruelty at their hands. As the Coalition embarks on a campaign of terror, destruction, and slaughter, millions of half-bloods emerge from the shadows, ready and willing to reclaim their place in the Vampire Nation. The problem is, war cannot be unleashed out in the open in the human world. Battles must be fought in other ways. Even with an island of highly-skilled vampire nuns and a few Weres and humans at their side, it appears the Traits may be fighting an unwinnable war. Their only option may be to sacrifice their own lives in the hopes of setting all other half-bloods free.
Donovan shifted on the lounger and muttered incomprehensively, then he emitted a rumbling snore.
“Hey, y’all. So yeah, vampires are real and they’re not above doing the dirty to those who share their blood. Take a look at this.” The Tik-Tokker grinned. “You are not gonna believe it. It’s so shady.”
Video of the Coalition camps rolled across the screen. Occasionally, the camera zeroed in a dirty or bruised Millennial, or a guard pushing a group of people into a building, their ankles locked together with some sort of rope. They were seen eating off of metal plates and lined up to fill a metal cup with something from a barrel. It wasn’t water. The liquid was rust-colored and thick, like blood.
“And the dudes running the place have a Marie Antoinette fetish. You know—” The woman mimicked a knife across her throat. “Off with their heads?” She giggled.
A guillotine appeared on camera. About ten people were in line, each with a black hood over their heads and their arms bound behind them. One at a time, they were pushed onto a stage and forced to their knees, their necks positioned directly under the blade. With manic efficiency, a guard released the blade. Most heads flew into a barrel in front of the platform. The ones that rolled off onto the stage were kicked to their final destination. The headless bodies were tossed onto a pile on the ground.
“Oh, grosss,” the woman complained. She leaned toward the camera. “Kind of like a bad zombie movie, isn’t it?” She sat back in her chair and made a face. “Whatever. I mean, like, are we supposed to believe that’s really happening? Isn’t that against the law or something?” She cackled. “As if.” She leisurely stretched her body, her crop top exposing a belly button ring. “I’m so shook.”
The woman tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled. “Now, I’m not sharing this for the views. It is kind of sus. But if this shit is real, someone needs to get off the pot and do something about it. Aren’t there any woke cops out there who can play the James Bond card? Before anymore—” She swiped her finger across her throat and giggled. Then the screen went black.
Donovan shot up in his chair and blinked. Once. Twice. He shook his head and attempted to gather himself. What the hell? Sure, he had needed the sleep, even if it was only a thirty-minute nap, but the dreams he could do without. It had been less than forty-eight hours since the worldwide kidnappings. Donovan knew preparations for rescue were underway. But he also knew Bengotten and Hannigan were capable of even greater cruelty. He could only imagine the terror and the torture the victims were being subjected to.
It was difficult to understand how the vampire world was capable of this. He had long prided himself on their natural superiority, their ability to rise up above the petty politics and unjustified violence in the human and Were worlds. Yet overnight, vampires had become the monsters, the tyrants capable of such evil. That astonished him. For the first time in his long existence, Donovan was ashamed of being a vampire. If it was possible, he might very well submit to being turned into a human or a Were. He buried his face in his hands. Yes, he could live as a human. Perhaps he could ask Dr. Alvarez to find a way to turn off his vampirism, maybe using the gene-editing Marilyn could not stop talking about.
Writing under a nom de plume, the former lawyer and journalist draws her stories from more than 30 years in the legal world. Seelie’s wicked pen has resulted in twenty-two works of fiction, including the new paranormal romance series Donovan Trait,as well the erotic romance Kinky Briefsseries and The Feisty Lawyers romantic suspense series. She also authored The Last Christmas, The Garage Dweller, A Touchdown to Remember, The President’s Wife, The President’s Daughter, Seizing Hope, The White House Wedding, and participated in the romance anthology Pieces of Us.
When not spinning romantic tales, Seelie ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other professionals. Currently, she resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, WI, where she enjoys opera, the Green Bay Packers, gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine.
Seelie is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS: Never give up. You define MS, it does not define you!
It’s been awhile since I’ve written, re-posted or done anything on my blog site. Mid-2015 to now has been hectic. I’ve moved to a bigger, bustling city and accepted a new job (hopefully the last full-time teaching job I’ll ever have). Life changes are always stressful but coupled with raising a teenager and a seven year old it crosses into chaotic. During this process my writing has suffered, to the point that I haven’t written anything in months. Basically my writing “mojo” went on hiatus and recently just returned. This experience has reminded me (daily) that teaching is psychologically and emotionally draining (especially when at the middle school level) and parenting along with it kinda left me feeling like a zombie.
One day while sitting at my desk I looked at my calendar and realized it was November. Something inside of me woke up. When I moved I had plans to buckle down and write. With the goal of transitioning to a part-time teaching position (at the elementary level) and the goal of becoming a full-time editor/ writer. I hadn’t made any progress. Realizing it was November 1st and I wasn’t closer to achieving my goals scared me. Let’s face it life is short. I don’t want to wonder in five years, ten years or even twenty years why I didn’t follow through. Coupled with the fact 2015 is almost over and soon it will be 2016 — a fire has been smoldering inside of me.
I think the universe agreed because the next day I received first chapter edits back from a well-known freelance editor. I made a spur of the moment decision back in September to attend a local chapter of RWA and won the free critique.
Her words were encouraging and she seemed enthusiastic about my work.
So what am I doing now……….
I’ve enrolled in a six week online editing course. I’m actually participating and doing the assignments. I’m working on my manuscripts and am determined to finish both of them (OK at least one) by the end of this year. And I’m reading again. My current book list includes:
A Mad Zombie Party by Gena Showalter
About A Vampire by Lynsay Sands
So I’ll be posting updates weekly on this journey to get shit done.
Multicultural romance is HOT this summer! So much diversity is introduced in love stories filled with romance, angst, conflict and passion. This summer my goal is to introduce romance readers to new (or new to them) multicultural romance novels and authors. What is Multicultural Romance?
The Multicultural Romance genre includes romance novels in which the cultural, racial, or ethnic background of one (or both) of the main characters (hero/heroine) is from an Asian, African, Hispanic, Native American, Middle Eastern and/or Pacific Islander heritage. Any sub-genre is acceptable (LGBT, Historical, New Adult, Paranormal, Contemporary,… etc..).
In 150 characters or less tell about your book (make sure you include the title). It’s kind of challenging to put all of that info in a tweet so be creative. During the month of July I’ll be tweeting multicultural romance info to my followers (around 1700). This is a great FREE way to get EXPOSURE for your book!! Interested? Great- Here’s how to join.
Leave a comment below with the tweet you would like tweeted. While I can’t guarantee a specific date-I can guarantee you will be tweeted on a Monday in July. I will be taking the first forty authors that leave their required info below. This number will allow me to tweet (and retweet) eight books every Monday.
I can’t wait to Tweet your books 🙂
Questions? Leave it below and I’ll answer it as soon as possible 🙂
We have another great author to feature in the Multicultural Romance Blog-A-Thon. Welcome Kim Golden, she also has a giveaway!
Maybe Forever Blurb
Note: Maybe Forever is book three in the Maybe… series. It starts with Maybe Baby, in which Laney and Mads meet in a very unconventional way and soon Laney must choose between the safe, comfortable life she’s had with another man in Sweden, or explore the unknown with Mads in Denmark. The story continues with Maybe Tonight, a novella told from Mads’s point of view. We meet Mads just before his first encounter with Laney and then what happens as their meeting changes his life forever.
Is the honeymoon over…?
Now married with two children, Laney and Mads are finding their life together isn’t as simple as it used to be. While Laney struggles with motherhood, Mads is so focused on chasing success that he loses sight of promises he’s made.
When frustration gets the better of her, Laney takes the kids and goes to the US, hoping to find solace with her aunt Cecily, a former school teacher who now teaches yoga and meditation in Florida.
Can Laney and Mads find their way back to one another…or is it too late?
Excerpt from Maybe Forever by Kim Golden
“Are you attracted to her?”
He glanced away. I saw the tension building inside of him. Instead of answering me, he began undressing. Was he ever going to answer me?
I didn’t want to cry anymore. I didn’t want to think about Benny or what he might have done with her. I kept telling myself that maybe I was overreacting—maybe there was nothing going on between them, but the telling silence continued to fester. Mads went into our en suite bathroom. As soon as I heard the shower sputter on, I ended up following him. He was already in the shower stall, his back to me as the water streamed down his body. I watched as he rinsed off a day’s worth of sweat…maybe even another woman’s scent…from his skin. But standing there watching him…I hated that I still wanted him. I still wanted him to want me and only me. And I knew that tonight might be the last time I could have him to myself. Maybe it was already too late. I was trembling, still unable to stop this unsettled feeling inside me. And when he finally turned off the shower and reached for his towel, I ran my hands along his hips and pulled him close. He turned and the tight expression on his face nearly sent me away. I steeled myself. He exhaled slowly and leaned into me. He captured my lips with his, kissing me tenderly at first, his lips grazing mine, the tip of his tongue gently urging me to let him in. I squeezed my eyes shut and let my arms tighten around him. For a little while the rising heat between us was enough to make me forget. I let him peel away my camisole, let him push down my shorts. I kicked them aside. My body was coming alive for him even while my doubts were whispering to me, “This won’t help…”
But I wanted him, wanted him to fuck me until I could stop feeling so empty inside. I wanted him to claim me, to make me his again. And as he lifted me, pressed me against the wall and I hooked my legs around him, I opened my eyes again and tried to remember every moment of this. He plunged into me and, once we were joined, a tiny ball of heat flamed inside me. “It’s been too long…” he gasped in my ear. I tried to stay focused; I just wanted to feel how he throbbed inside me, remember each sensation of his chest against mine, his hands gripping my ass, my hips… the damp tile wall pressing into my back…With each thrust, with each moan, I told myself, “Remember this…remember how good it feels…” And I cried out as he touched me, deep inside, rubbing the right spot, sending waves of liquid heat through my veins, and still I wanted more.
I grew up in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and spent most of my childhood summers in Smithfield, Virginia. I’m not sure where my love of words comes from, but I’ve loved books since I was a child and I’ve loved writing stories for as long as I can remember.
My parents wanted me to do something practical–be an engineer, a doctor, a lawyer, an accountant. But I always dreamed of doing something completely different. I knew I wanted to be a writer, even if it took a bit of time for me to get to that point.
It led me to spend more time writing stories than studying physics and chemistry in high school. It’s what led me study literature and then work on an MFA in Creative Writing at Virginia Commonwealth University. And when I finished my master’s degree, love led me away from the US and brought me to Sweden.
So what do I write? I write about relationships, about love. I often write about interracial relationships. I like reading stories about people who are different, who see past the differences and fall in love. And those are the stories I also enjoy writing. I write stories for people who know that love comes in many colors.
It’s the first day of the Multicultural Romance Blog-A-Thon! I’m excited to showcase great diverse romance and the wonderful authors who write it. This year’s debut features Susan Hughes and her romance Heart’s Desire. Enjoy 🙂
Heart’s Desire (Music Box Book 3)
Working as a school teacher in Vancouver in 1957, Mavis believes her secret relationship with a black classmate in Halifax has been left in the past—until he shows up at her door. Though she hasn’t seen Will since he left to serve in the Korean War seven years ago, the passion they once shared is easily rekindled. This time Mavis is determined not to hide their love. But society’s rules haven’t changed, and as Mavis and Will confront the prejudice that once tore them apart, they must face painful events from their past in order to build a future together.
Later in the evening, after the church women had cleaned up and the visitors had left the house, Mavis found her mother in her parents’ room, stretched out on the bed, still wearing her black funeral dress. Louise raised her head when the door scraped against the wood-plank floor. Her eyes shone with the tears she’d been holding back through the day.
“Come in, Mavis,” she said, sitting up. “Sit with me.”
Mavis did as she was asked. She glanced at the nightstand, where her father’s reading glasses still sat, next to the copy of Somerset Maugham’s The Razor’s Edge that she’d sent him for his birthday in September. A cloth bookmark protruded about halfway through the pages.
Her mother’s fingertips stroked through Mavis’s hair and came to rest on her shoulder. “Thank you for being here. I don’t know how I’d have gotten through it all without my only daughter by my side.” Abruptly Louise straightened her back and set about smoothing her rumpled dress. “Gosh, I’m a mess. I hope I looked more respectable during the service.”
“Mom, you don’t need to pretend you’re not sad. You lost your husband. People won’t judge you.”
Her mother responded with a skeptical sniff. “Of course they will. For years they’ve been judging our family, looking down their noses at your father because he was too sick to work. I’ve seen the pity in their faces when they look at me. And now that I’m alone, I need to keep my head up. The last thing I want is more pity.”
“It’s compassion, not pity,” Mavis said—though she’d received the same glances from her classmates in high school, when she’d gone to class in tattered shoes and outmoded clothes that her mother had bought on sale.
Louise heaved a shaky sigh and patted her daughter’s hand. “You have no idea the satisfaction it gives me to tell them I’ve got a daughter away at university. You’ve got the world at your feet, Mavis. I know you’ll take full advantage of the opportunity. You’ve always been headstrong.” She stood then, facing the mirror above her dressing table, and straightened her skirt. “You haven’t told me much about your classes. Are they going all right? Do you like your professors?”
“No complaints so far.”
Mavis nodded. She drew a long breath before adding, “There’s a guy in one of my classes who’s coloured.”
Her mother spun to look at her. “My goodness, they have Negro students at the university?”
“A few.” Mavis’s heart knocked against her ribs as she went on. “A friend of mine, a white girl, has been … spending a lot of time with him.”
Catching her meaning at once, her mother clucked her tongue. “That girl sounds like someone you shouldn’t associate with. Believe me, a girl’s reputation rubs off on her friends.” She turned back to the mirror and teased out the flattened side of her dark waves with her fingertips. “I feel sorry for her mother.”
Mavis felt a twist in her chest. Hopelessness stole over her. “Would you like me to make you some tea, Mom?”
Louise cast her a small smile in the mirror as she absently straightened the perfume bottles on her dressing table. “Thank you, Mavis. Maybe I can manage a sandwich with it. I haven’t had much to eat all day.”
“I’ll get some of the leftovers together.” Mavis stood and left the room, closing the door behind her.
About the author
Susan R. Hughes writes contemporary and historical romance novels set mainly in Canada.She lives in Ottawa, Ontario, with her husband and three children.
Romance in which cultural, racial or ethnic background of one or more of the characters plays a major role in the story and in the romantic relationship.
Think beyond characters who are black and white (African-American and Caucasian) today’s multicultural relationships feature people who are Asian, Hispanic, Native-American, Middle-Eastern, and Bi-racial. In the 21st century love extends beyond all margins and readers love reading romance stories reflecting that.
May is Multicultural month and what better way to celebrate this than by showcasing authors who write multicultural romance. If you’re one such author participate in the Second Multicultural Love Blog-A-Thon. Each day (weekdays only) during the month of May a different multicultural romance author will be featured on my site. All that’s needed is your book cover, blurb and/or excerpt (of the multicultural romance novel/novella), buy links and your social media links. Want to write a guest blog as well or instead? That’s cool!
You’re welcome to host a giveaway on your guest day but it’s not required. I’ll be giving away a $20 Gift Card (Amazon or B&N) to a visitor at the end of the Blog-A-Thon. Any romance genre is acceptable (new adult, LGBT, erotic, etc.)
Interested? Great! Just click on the “Multicultural Romance Blog-A-Thon” tab at the top and post the top two dates you want. First come, First served.
I’m also offering a limited number (up to 10) of cover ads to feature during the Multicultural Romance Blog-A-Thon. For $5 you get a tagline caption, link to a website of your choice and your ad on the site during the entire month of May (during the Blog-A-Thon). If interested please email me at yolanda [dot] ashton [at] yahoo [dot com].
I’m sooo excited that my novella A Will for Love is AVAILABLE now on Amazon (the link is below).
Lanya gave her love and trust to a man, only to find out their relationship was a lie. Shattered, she decides she’s never give her heart to anyone again. But when her ex, Mikael LockRidge, offers her a proposition she can’t refuse, Layna finds being with him makes it impossible to resist the sensual pull between them.
Blackmailed to commit an act that still haunts him, Mikael accepts his current loveless relationship as karma. But when he receives unexpected help from the grave, Mikael realizes he wants back what he lost. He just has to convince the ex he hurt to let him back in her life and her heart.
One lucky winner will win a $25 Amazon Gift Card! Here’s how:
After purchasing your copy of “A Will for Love”, email/forward your receipt to me -yolanda.ashton [at] yahoo dot com. One reader will be randomly selected as the gift card winner.
CONTEST INCLUDES PURCHASES FROM 2/19 – 3/20. WINNER WILL BE ANNOUNCED ON 3/30 ON MY BLOG.
A recovering alcoholic, Jake Inman has found a new, healthier addiction: training for his successful triathlon career. But when his manager is murdered and beloved goddaughter kidnapped, another obsession takes hold: doing whatever it takes to find Brandon’s killer and keep Amy safe. Jake turns to a private investigator for help in solving the case, and though he finds temptation in her whiskey-colored eyes, he knows he must resist his attraction, or risk losing his heart.
After a devastating case, Winona Wall has turned her back on her skills as a private investigator, preferring a quiet life as a part-time bartender. That is, until Jake storms into the bar, demanding her help in tracking his missing godchild. Unable to resist Jake’s charm, she reluctantly agrees. But even after Amy is found unharmed, Jake insists Amy’s mother was more involved with her kidnapping than the police suspect. When the situation takes a turn for the worse, Winona must trust her instincts in order to save them all – and avoid falling in love.
During her senior year in high school, Angela Smith was dubbed most likely to write a novel, and that has been her dream ever since her mother read Brer Rabbit to her and her sister so often that they were able to recite it back to each other before actually learning to read. She’s always enjoyed stories about the adventure of love, and getting involved in the legal field developed her love of suspense. A certified paralegal, work gives her perfect fodder for her romantic suspense stories. When not caring for her small farm or spending time with her husband of two decades, she enjoys off-roading, crafting, reading, and dreaming of the places she’ll visit one day.
Angela Smith LOVES talking to readers. You can contact her in the following ways:
The Jeep bounced along the road, up steep mountain slopes, as rain fell in sheets. Winona gasped as the Jeep slid through slick channels of mud, but Jake managed to hold it tight. The roads were spongy, absorbing water, then wringing it out in a collection of goo.
She imagined water gushing around her. Imagined falling to their death. Being sucked into the earth by sludge. The sky had turned dark, merciless, and she couldn’t see a damn thing but the Jeep lights soaking an otherwise indistinguishable trail. The wind clamored across the ragtop as if it wasn’t even attached.
“We’re almost there,” Jake had assured her several times as she clenched the grab handle. They had made it past the public roads just fine, and she felt this trail was way worse than he’d described. “It feels worse than it is,” he continued. “I’ve traveled this road hundreds of times.”
“We should wait for backup.” She checked her phone yet again but had no service. She couldn’t call Garret to find out what was going on at his end, and none of her texts was going through. As a private investigator, she’d done many stupid things alone. This ranked top of her list.
She opened the glove compartment. Searched under the seats, behind the seats.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking to see if Chayton has any ammo or guns in his Jeep. Knowing my brother, he doesn’t.”
Her arsenal consisted of the .380 she’d hidden in her pants and the 9mm she kept in her purse. She’d feel much better if she had an assault rifle as backup, or at least her shotgun. Not that she could handle any more than two at a time anyway, if she was lucky to handle more than one.
Jake cracked his knuckles. “The only ammo I need is right here.”
Winona settled in her seat and faced him. He continued to peer out the window as the heavy downpour seemed to crack the Jeep’s ragtop. But the Jeep held steady. “Really, Jake?”
“Yep. That and adrenaline.”
“So your fists, your arms, will help you dodge bullets? You don’t think that whoever we meet at this cabin won’t have their adrenaline? You know we could be heading into a trap, right?”
“You think I care about that right now? All I care about is my little girl.”
“How do we know she’s even there? Lillian could be lying to you. Setting you up. If she had anything to do with Brandon’s murder, anything at all, then—”
“You didn’t have to come!”
“We can’t just go in there without a plan.”
“I have a plan.”
“We don’t even know who’s there. How many are there. If Amy is even there.”
“I know that cabin like the back of my hand. We’re close, and I’m damn sure not stopping or turning around.”
She squared her shoulders, digging in her purse for the 9mm. She checked the clip and handed it to him.
“Do you at least know how to shoot?”
“Are you kidding me, Winona?”
“No, I’m not kidding you. If it comes down to it, can you shoot a living, breathing human being if he’s threatening your life or those you love?”
“Maybe you’re a tough street chick who carries a couple of guns everywhere she goes. I can picture you with an AK on your back and a belt of bullets strapped around your chest. But I can hold my own. I might not be a cop, but I’m probably a better marksman than most. I was four years old when I shot my dad’s rifle for the first time. I grew up around hunting and fishing, spitting and shooting.”
“Hunting is a lot different than killing a person.”
“And you would know better than me how?”
“Well, I’ve never had to kill anyone. Most of my PI work didn’t involve danger.”
Jake glanced at her. Shadows deepened the hard lines of his face, making him appear lethal. But the last time a friend had helped in an investigation, he’d ended up dead.
In many ways Jake reminded her of Naomi’s ex, Caleb. Caleb had become addicted to alcohol, ruined his relationship with Naomi, and Winona had befriended him when he came to Montana to try to win Naomi back. He was trying to change, trying to get better, when he was shot outside the police station by the cronies who wanted to kill Garret.
Caleb had died because of quick and irrational decisions. At the time, she had been holed up safely with her mother and she knew it was nobody’s fault. But she knew they hadn’t thought things through, and she worried the same thing was about to happen again.
“If my life or the life of anyone I care about is in danger, I will shoot. If you threatened Amy, I’d shoot you.” Jake patted her on the leg before returning his hands to the wheel. “You worry too much. Stop worrying.” He turned off the lights and drove.
“What are you doing?” Winona squinted through the gray. It shouldn’t be dark yet, but the unrelenting skies held the sun hostage.
Jake pulled under a tree and shut off the engine.
“I think it’s best if we walk the rest of the way.”
“Walk? I didn’t exactly bring my hiking gear.”
Jake glanced down at her tennis shoes. “Those will have to do.”