New this week at Evernight Publishing (June 19-23) #Romance #1Click #99cents @EvernightPub

 

ep-banner2-l-full

 

Happy Saturday!

We are at the last Saturday in June!! Half the year gone by. But you also know what Saturday means. Yep! Many new Evernight Publishing titles for you to enjoy!

Click on each book cover for more information. This week’s releases for the week of June 19 – 23. Lots of great titles and authors for readers to enjoy!!

Be sure to check out the 99 Cent specials link at the post’s end, too!

Remember, all new releases are 25% off if you buy directly from Evernight’s bookstore.

~~~~~~~~~~

Given Time by E.D. Parr
parr
Genre: : Alternative (MM) Contemporary Romance
Heat Level: 3
Author Link

~~~~~~~~~~

Viktor by Sarah Marsh
Happy Evil After # 1

marshGenre: Erotic Paranormal Shifter Romance
Naughty Fairy Tale
Heat Level: 3
Author Link

~~~~~~~~~~

Cat With the Blue Eyes by Raven McAllan
Cats of Craig Mohr # 1
mcallanGenre: Erotic Paranormal Shifter Romance
Romance on the Go
Heat Level: 3
Author Link

~~~~~~~~~~

Broken Bastard by Sam Crescent
and Stacey Espino
Killer of Kings # 2

cresespGenre: Erotic Dark Contemporary,
Rubenesque/BBW, Romance

Heat Level: 3
Author Link 
Author Link 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

Be sure to check out the 99 Cent Specials >>> Click Here

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Happy Shopping!!

kacey sig

2016-06-23-16-43-16EvernightPublishing.com


 

 

Spotlight ~ The Lord’s Persuasion of Lady Lydia #TeamHarry #Regency #Romance

 

Thank you so much for hosting #TeamHarry on your blog today.

#TeamHarry is the nickname of The Lord’s Persuasion of Lady Lydia. Because when I let the RavDor Chicks the FB group for Doris O’Connor and myself read some snippets they declared Harry a hunk and #TeamHarry are his cheerleaders.

 raven1

Seducing the wallflower…

Over the years, Lydia Field has perfected the art of being a wallflower. It’s the only way to avoid the attention of unwanted suitors – and the perils of a convenient, loveless marriage! Instead, she dreams of the day she can leave London’s high society behind her, trading the glamorous balls and afternoon teas for a quiet life in the country.

But in an unguarded moment, she finds herself catching the eye of notorious rake ‘Handsome Harry’, Lord Birnham. Now that he’s glimpsed the wildness and fire that lurks beneath Lydia’s demure exterior, Lord Birnham will not rest until he has unleashed the full extent of her passion!

For if there’s one skill that Lord Birnham is known for, it’s the art of persuasion…

raven2

~~~~~~~

And a wee tease…

On the spur of the moment, Lydia decided to slip out and purchase a novel to read on the long journey she intended to undertake. For once, she totally flouted convention and didn’t take a maid or a footman. Her mama would be horrified if she knew, and the ton would have no hesitation in labelling her flighty and worse.

She couldn’t have cared less.

As she wore an old and shabby-ish pelisse and a bonnet that shaded her face, no one gave her a second glance and she reached the bookshop unnoticed. Once inside the shop, with its unmistakable scent of leather and paper, Lydia’s tension slipped away from her like a discarded cloak. She slipped her bonnet down – the brim impeded her vision – and let her gaze feast on the delights in front of her. A happy half hour passed as she deliberated between the volumes on the shelves, and eventually picked one she thought should be light and entertaining, and another, which seemed darker. Between them and chatting with Millie, the journey should pass tolerably well.

Now all she had to do was return home, look as unhappy and unsettled as she had done recently, and wait until the appointed time to leave.

Sneak out like a thief. It was so annoying that she had to behave in such a way, but Lydia understood her parents well enough to know it was the only solution. She turned to go and have her books parcelled up but discovered her route was blocked. By a young man. Who, she realised with a jolt, she recognised.

She should have kept her bonnet on.

Lydia stared at the young man who barred her way. Surely he wasn’t going to cause a scene in Hatchards? Lydia nodded her head infinitesimally in the hope he would find some grace and good manners. He didn’t. He neither moved nor spoke, just glowered.

‘Excuse me,’ she said levelly. ‘I wish to pass.’

His eyes narrowed and he didn’t move. Her temper spiked. Even though he was dressed as any young man of the ton should be, something set him apart, and not in a good way. The wild look in his eyes, perhaps, or the fact that the petulant look she had noticed before was gone, to be replaced by something more adult and, not to put too fine a point on it, worrying.

Harry’s heir.

‘You look like a scullery maid.’

‘I thank you.’ she replied frostily. ‘Please move to one side.’

He stayed put. Those nasty spiders of worry began to make their presence known on her arms. It was one of the most unpleasant feelings ever. Why on earth was he behaving so abysmally?

‘I have heard you think you are going to marry Lord Birnham,’ he said in such a violent tone she jumped. ‘I think not. Not if you value your family.’

Lydia saw red. She was tired of being told what she was and was not to do. People needed to stop dictating to her and let her live her life. All the worry changed into annoyance.

‘What is all this about?’ she demanded. ‘I am so sick of your family trying to dictate to me and mine.’ She conveniently forgot her mama and her machinations. ‘I am marrying no one. Not you, not him, and not the man on the street corner. No one. Understand?’

He scowled. ‘Not him certainly, but me, definitely.’

‘You are mad.’ Lydia went to brush past him, and he barred her way by putting one hand on each stack of books. A very real, albeit tiny, frisson of fear skittered down her spine and she stiffened. He was not going to intimidate her. ‘Leave me alone or I will be forced to take action.’

‘I’ll get what I want,’ Jeremy said. ‘Wait and see.’

She didn’t bother to reply. After all, she wouldn’t be around much longer for him to cry out whatever threat he had intended to make. Lydia ducked under his outstretched arm, dropped her books on his feet, and swept past him, ignoring his howl of pain.

The Lord’s Persuasion of Lady Lydia is available at:

Amazon .com http://tinyurl.com/jx97dvc

Amazon .uk   http://tinyurl.com/jcnjwjv

Kobo               http://tinyurl.com/jhj8l7x

Are                  http://tinyurl.com/gl6wutl

Happy Reading,

Love Raven x

raven3


 

Holiday Spotlight ~ Holly’s Christmas Dom by Raven McAllan #BDSM #Rubenesque #Christmas @RavenMcAllan @EvernightPub

Hi, and thank you for having me here today and letting me talk about Holly’s Christmas Dom, my latest book from Evernight Publishing.

This was originally published elsewhere as a much shorter and less intense story. When the publisher in question closed down, I kept getting a niggle that now was my chance to rewrite and lengthen Holly and Mac’s story and show how they decided where their relationship was going—if anywhere.

Do they end up ad they both want? You’ll have to buy the book to find out.

1

Blurb…

Winters’ Tales, 1

Holly and Mac have been close friends for years, but never had the chance to get together. Now it’s time.

When Mac shows Holly what he wants and needs—her as his sub—it’s up to her to decide whether to accept him and his lifestyle. She’s waited for Mac for years, but never expected such an ultimatum.

Mac knows Holly’s the one for him. He’s sure she’s a sub—his sub—no one else’s. It’s up to him to show her that.
When they play together for the first time, both of them have to decide—is it for keeps? Or do they part ways when the fun is over?

 

And a wee tease…

 

Her jaw dropped and so did her gaze at the smoldering and oh so dominant look he’d given her.

Mac had stood in her hallway and told her starkly, “Holly, you know I want you. I have for years, and now’s the time to ask if you want me.” Her heart leaped, but before she had the chance to reply, he added, “It would be no straightforward relationship. In many ways, I’m not straightforward. I have very definite ideas about what I want from you. You need to think if you want to know what they are.” She’d opened her mouth to ask questions, and he’d stopped them with a kiss that made her toes curl. When he stood back, she’d just stared.

“Dominant, Holls. Think about it. If you want me, you’ll submit to me. I’ll be back, and we can talk. Read this please. Have faith.” He handed her an envelope and left, leaving her standing, wide-eyed, looking at the open door. That had been it.

Until tonight, when she’d glimpsed him across the village green, she still hadn’t believed him. Even after she’d opened the damned envelope and seen his handwriting, she hadn’t dared think of him in a positive way. Because how could she? After reading his ideas, what he needed from her, and not knowing if it was in her to do as he demanded, Holly had worried herself into not sleeping. He wouldn’t come back and ask her. If he did, she couldn’t say yes. Or could she? His demands made her itch to come, except there in the letter it said,

“If you are thinking in any way positive about this, you do not come until I say so. Your climax belongs to me.”

Even if she thought she might agree, she had no faith he would seek her out or that she truly was who he wanted. But she didn’t make herself come.

Now he was here and it was make-your-mind-up time. Her stomach jitterbugged as she drank in his image. Mac. Maybe soon-to- be her Mac. Her lips still tingled from his kiss—the rest of her just tingled.

“Holly, I’ve wanted you ever since you turned from the long- legged skinny kid who whined when Noel and I went off and did boy things into this stunning teenager with curves. A body to drool over and an ass I want to paddle. For all the right—or wrong—reasons.” He stopped speaking and took a mouthful of wine.

His swallow made her mouth dry up. That simple movement, the way his throat moved, and the play of his muscles, was so erotic her skin heated, and her senses went into high alert.

Hell, I have it bad if a simple swallow makes me think of sex. Of him swallowing me, me swallowing him, and—oh shit, I do have it bad.

Mac cleared his throat. So caught up in the moment, Holly realized she’d missed what he’d said.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I was miles away. So you’re going to explain what you want? I’m ready to hear. I…” She hesitated. “To be honest, Mac, I’m interested, but I’m not sure I can be what you want. I’m no subservient. I like to be in charge. Hell, if I didn’t, I’d never have left the village. I’d still be here, working for Mr. McKenzie as his typist. Not even a secretary or PA. Instead, I run my own recruitment agency in the city, have staff, and I’m happy.”

“Are you? Really?” he asked, his eyes more than curious. “I’d say that is only one small part of you.”

Holly decided she now knew the meaning of the expression “looked into your soul.” Her body was scorched by that look, her mind playing hopscotch as it jumped from one thought to another. She couldn’t help it—she squirmed.

“Happy? I’m not so sure you are,” Mac said in a definite manner. Even though his voice was low, the ring of sincerity and authority was clear. “Not missing something in your life? I think you are. That indefinable spark has gone from you, Holly. I can provide it if you want. However, you need to be sure. Very, very sure. I’ll stretch you, demand things of you that you didn’t think you were capable of doing.” He lowered his voice even more. “But in return, you’ll learn how to fly. And we will be partners.”

Hmm…

“You say that now, Mac, so define the partnership.” She needed it spelled out. “Because how can you dominate me if are we equals? To me, that’s a very unequal partnership.”

Mac lifted one hand in the air and his fingers splayed in what Holly decided was frustration with her.

Well, tough. I need to understand.

“No, Holly, that’s where you’re wrong. Okay, maybe some people want that, but the whole point of this is it will be our relationship. Ours,” he stressed. “Designed by us, for us. There is no one-scene-fits-all here. I’d say ask ten couples what a Dom-sub relationship means to them, and you’ll get fifteen different answers. But in each and every one, unless they specify differently, the sub is in charge every time. She or he calls the shots. Didn’t you read my letter?”

“Yes, but…” Holly stopped talking as he put a finger over his own lips, and then moved it to hers.

“Shh, you always did talk too much. There are so may other things that gorgeous mouth could be doing.”

Holly had never before heard such determination in his voice. Oh shit. Her clit did the samba, and her pussy joined in at the pictures that rushed into her mind. She pushed them away and concentrated on what Mac was saying—or tried to. It wasn’t easy when all she could see was a naked Mac bending over her and… No, no. Stop it already.

“Will you hear me out? Please? Without interrupting?” he asked. Only the faint shake of the finger over her mouth showed how tense he was. Otherwise, he could have been asking her to make a cuppa. “Then you can ask anything you want.”

She nodded, and he lifted his finger far enough for her to speak. “Okay, but I’m not saying I’ll agree with anything,” she said in a rush as her words tumbled over each other. “And if I have questions after, you promise you’ll answer them?”

He looked shocked. “Ah, Holls, of course I will. As well as show you anything you need a demonstration of.”

That was what she was worried about. What if she didn’t like the demonstrations? What if she did? His short descriptions of what he liked had her cream gathering and would have resulted in several sessions with her vibrator if he hadn’t demanded that she not come. As it was, she was frustrated and jumpy. Holly wasn’t a total innocent. Her experience with a hot male body might be almost nonexistent, but her experience with her purple friend wasn’t. Carol might have Verne, but she had Roger the Rabbit. Or she had until Mac’s letter. Poor Roger was now sadly neglected.

“Yes, well, we’ll see. Okay, Mac, go for it.”

2

 

If you like the idea of Holly and Mac, here’s where you can get hold of their story…

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/hollys-christmas-dom-by-raven-mcallan/

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Hollys-Christmas-Winters-Tales-Book-ebook/dp/B0198IGSU0/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1449850303&sr=8-2&keywords=Raven+McAllan

http://www.amazon.com/Hollys-Christmas-Winters-Tales-Book-ebook/dp/B0198IGSU0/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1449850303&sr=8-2&keywords=Raven+McAllan

http://www.bookstrand.com/hollys-christmas-dom-mf

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-holly039schristmasdom-1942062-147.html

 

~~~~~

 

Well what can I say?

I’m growing old disgracefully and loving it.

Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.

Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so to speak.

I write in my study, which overlooks the garden and the lane. I’m often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I’m not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.

Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.

http://www.ravenmcallan.com

http:/ /www.ravenmcallan.blogspot.com

https://www.facebook.com/rmcallan       (my page)

https://www.facebook.com/ravenmcallan         (author page)

https://twitter.com/RavenMcAllan

http://www.amazon.com/Raven-McAllan/e/B00694RHJI/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_11?qid=1408015501&sr=1-11

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Raven-McAllan/e/B00694RHJI/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_11?qid=1408015501&sr=1-11

 

Happy reading,

Love R x

 


 

A Holiday Spotlight ~ The Dukes’ Christmas Abductions by Doris O’Connor & Raven McAllan #Historical #TimeTravel #@MamaD8 @RavenMcAllan

Thanks so much for having the lovely Raven and me on your blog today. You know, we often talked about writing a book together, but that’s as far as it went. Then our reader  group TheRavdorChicks started nagging us—in the nicest possible way of course—that
they would love us to write a story together.
 
So, after much frantic skype messaging, where we brainstormed ideas, and one very sleepless night from me, when the start of a workable story actually came to me, the idea
was born.
 
What followed was a fun filled four days with Raven in Scotland, where we put our heads down, fuelled by wine, chocolate, and Gin & Tonics, and our fingers flew.
 
We had so much fun writing this story I can say this won’t be our last collaboration.  We hope readers will like The Dukes’ Christmas Abductions as much as we loved writing this story.
 
Much love from both of us!
 
Stay naughty now, folks.
 
D & R
xxx
 
 
 
 
Blurb:
 
Follow your heart and cross space and time…
When Clara lands the job as curator of Faversham House it’s a dream come true. Especially when her favorite Regency Erotica writer Vicky Hopewell shadows her in the run up to the annual estate ball—a tradition left over from Regency times.
The costume ball is always the highlight of the year, but neither woman expects to be confronted by two drop dead gorgeous Dukes.
Daniel Danvers, the Duke of Hockwell thinks Clara is one of the servants invited to the estate ball.
Kit Capel, the Duke of Aulban cannot understand why his wife Victoria acts as though she doesn’t know him.
As both couples slowly come to terms with the reality of their situations, can they find happiness? Is it as simple as following your heart?
Be Warned: bondage, spanking
 
Buy it from: Evernight  Amazon   Amazon UK   ARe  Bookstrand
Excerpt (18+):
 
Daniel paused mid swatting the delectable arse in front of him to rub, what must be a considerable ache by now, away. His quarry had stopped screaming for this Vicky, at last, and unless his senses were completely off, she was starting to enjoy his attention. Certainly her breaths were coming in short gasps, and instead of struggling, she was  raising her bottom into every carefully placed swat of his hand.
The evening was definitely looking up. As was his cock, which was in danger of
splitting his evening breeches.
There was one way to find out for sure. Daniel slipped his fingers under the  hideous undergarments, and smirked at the all over body shiver his girl gave. Satisfied
with not only her reaction but also by the wet, hair-free cunt he found, he let his digits linger.
“Oh, god.”
Her breathless moan spurred him on, and he grinned when he found her hidden pearl. She shivered again when he circled the tight nub, and Daniel set up lazy circles, designed to drive any woman wild. This chit proved no exception. The air grew heavy with the musk of aroused woman, and Daniel inhaled deeply, before he stopped the movement.
A strangled groan escaped his girl, and he tapped her arse again, when she tried
to rub her cunt on his fingers.
“Oh, no, you don’t. I want the truth, starting with your name, and maybe then I’ll
let you find release. Only on my say so, though, are we clear here, girl?”
“Fuck, yes … ow.”
Her arse cheeks wobbled most satisfactorily, when he yanked that odd fabric down to her knees, and delivered a few more swats to her delectable arse. The woman had a derriere made for fucking, hips to grab onto while he sunk his cock into her body and claimed what was his. That thought made his head come up. His? He had no business having proprietary thoughts toward a servant like that.
“Fuck, we most certainly will, but not without you telling me who you are, so…” He
delivered another open handed swat across both of her arse cheeks this time, and her answering deep throated moan made him go so hard it was a wonder he hadn’t spilled in his breeches yet.
“Clara, Sir. My name is Clara.”
Daniel slid his fingers through her sodden slit, and flicked her nub once, causing her to give another one of those cock hardening moans.
“Very nice, but the correct address would be my lord, chit, would it not?”
A strangled groan was his response this time, and when he withdrew his fingers
again, she slumped.
“Sorry, My Lord.
The girl, Clara, he mentally amended, had fire, that was for sure, if the intonation she gave his title was anything to go by. A certain amount of boldness was something Daniel certainly appreciated in his bed partners. If Clara was a lady’s maid, she was wasted in that position. As his mistress, however…  His mood improved dramatically
as that thought took hold.
It was Christmas, time to be charitable and all that went with such bounty, and what could be better than elevating this lovely creature from her status of mere servant to his mistress.
Mind thus made up, it was time to taste her nectar and to see if what he was
suspecting would be true. That Clara and he would mesh perfectly in the bedroom, and he could let his darker desires shine through.
He indulged himself by sliding several digits through her wet cunt, lubricating them with her juices, before he slipped one finger into her tight channel, and brought his thumb to press against the puckered hole, guarding that entrance.
Clara stiffened slightly, but she didn’t voice any protest, and when he started to
thrust the finger in her cunt slowly in and out of her, she gasped. Her hips rose in involuntary jerks, which told him how close she already was to exploding under his ministrations. Her untutored responses made him want to hurry this along, but Daniel was never an inconsiderate lover. He would give her several releases before he claimed his own.
“Good girl, and who do you work for?”
Clara moaned and writhed against him, her internal muscles fluttering around his
fingers in rippling moves, which signaled her impending orgasm as clearly as the rosy flush spreading across her skin. So beautifully responsive. She jerked when he tapped her nub, and then withdrew his hand.
“Faversham Estate. Oh god, please, My Lord … I.” The rest of her pretty little plea was lost in a screech as he swung her off his lap and onto his bed.  Her breasts bounced most satisfactorily, and her lovely almond shaped green eyes widened further when he crawled onto the bed with her, and straddled her midriff. Daniel grasped her arms and brought them high above her head. The action made her breasts rise up in silent offering, and Daniel smirked.
“Hmm, that would mean you work for me. How delightful. Whatever position you hold here, I much prefer you in this one, unable to move and at my mercy. I’m going to tie your wrists together and tether you to one of the posts, sweet Clara. Is that acceptable to you?”
*****
 
 
 
 
 
About the Authors:
 
Doris O’Connor
Doris is a writer of sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get.  From contemporary to paranormal, Time Travel, Sci-fi, BDSM, F/F, M/M, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.
Happily married for the last twenty-five years, she lives with her husband and their brood of nine in a far too small house filled with love, laughter, and chaos.
Stalk her in these places
~~
Raven McAllan
Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband—their children having flown the
nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.
A lover of reading, she appreciates the history inside a book, and the chance to peek into the lives of those from years ago. Raven admits that she enjoys the research
for her books almost as much as the writing; so much so, that sometimes she realizes she’s strayed way past the information she needs to know, and not a paragraph has been added to her WIP.
She admits she’s  no domestic goddess, and wonders why tourists think she might run the local bed and breakfast. She doesn’t.
Her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.
Stalk her in these places
 

Spotlight: The Racing Driver’s Wife by Raven McAllan #Contemp #ERom #TheirWives @RavenMcAllan @EvernightPub

 

What is it with some men and their attitudes?

Hot bods, hot blooded and often hot tempered. You know, speak first, regret it later.

Yeah, them. They might make you shiver quiver and tingle—however that level of hotness can be hard to live with. They can’t help themselves, bless them, sometimes, when they try to shield their love from all the nasties that could affect them.

And we all know how damned annoying that is. Why do they think we’re such fragile little flowers we can’t cope. Because if they think that, sometimes, we begin to think it as well…

And that’s where the problems can start…

My first book in this series, called their Wives is already out. (The Rock Star’s wife)

raven1

On 17th, The Racing Driver’s Wife is out.

raven2~~~~~

Some risks are worth taking…

Racing driver Gael Lorenzo is used to taking his life in his hands, if only he could say the same for his errant wife. He meant his wedding vows, and there will never be another woman for him, but what can he do to win her back?

Darcy thought she knew the risks of being married to a man who lives for his sport. The reality of the race track, however, proves too much for her. Nevertheless, giving Gael up entirely, is not an option either.

When circumstances force them back into each other’s company, neither one of them can let this chance go. Together they are stronger than apart, and their marriage is worth fighting for, isn’t it?

~~~

Here’s a wee tease…

Gael Lorenzo ducked the remote control as it flew through the air in his direction, and caught it in one hand.

“How on earth you ever get from A to B when your coordination is so bad I have no conception,” he said as he walked into the room and put the control down on the table. He made sure it was well out of Darcy’s arm reach. He knew how sneaky she could be if she thought the occasion warranted it. Damned if he wasn’t more nervous then before a race. He was under no illusion that the next few moments were going to be sticky. “That was more likely to hit the window than me.”

Darcy made a sound somewhere between a scream and a snort. “Ass. You scared the living daylights out of me. And as for your one-upmanship, how on earth you lie so successfully and don’t bat an eyelid, I have no conception,” Darcy said. “‛My wife is my life’,” she parroted and rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, that’ll be right. After your car, your team and…”

“And nothing, cara.” One-upmanship? He’d thought he was very restrained. He made no mention of open doors, lack of security, self-preservation or the like. “You believe what you will, but I speak the truth. If my wife would let it be so.” He shrugged. “Then it would be. However, she chooses to live her own life, and I have to accept that.” He winced as he became oh-so-very Italian. It was a measure of his concern and the knowledge of just how important this meeting was.

Darcy turned toward the television where the bouncy idiot he’d had to endure warbled on in her happy-clappy manner. Gael braced himself. He knew what was about to come, and he’d hoped to speak to Darcy beforehand. It seemed a tractor and trailer, and a laden log lorry who just knew they owned the road, had put paid to that. He’d spent twenty minutes breathing their fumes, before passing in a spot only the brave or foolhardy would use. It wasn’t that you couldn’t see any oncoming traffic—the road ran straight for nigh on half a mile. It was the width of the ruts and gravel that was tricky. Gael got by with no more than an inch on each side and a dozen or so scratches from the gravel where it jumped up and scored the paintwork. As it was a hire car, he guessed that his chance of a cheap rental ever again had just disappeared down the toilet.

“…and so you say this woman is lying?” The voice reverberated around the room. “In fact you’re happily married? There is a wife, but she’s not hidden away somewhere? So why isn’t she with you? Are you estranged?”

Darcy turned to him, and if he had one wish, it would be to banish the pained look in her eyes. Heaven help him, he’d done his best to avert the interview, but some ferrety reporter had discovered he was married and of course it was full bodied fodder for the gossip columns. Gael knew fine and well how his boring, no companion, race, practice, test, train and sleep regime annoyed them. Even more so because in his youth he’d kept most of them in business.

“Cara, I…”

“Shh, I’m listening to what my husband has decided to say.” Darcy turned her back on him. “Even if he chooses not to say it to me. Strange, that.”

Gael spent a few seconds admiring the curve of her spine and the way a few tendrils of reddish brown hair tickled the nape of her neck before he shrugged and wandered into the kitchen. After several wrong attempts he found mugs and coffee and set the stovetop machine on the hotplate to percolate.

It was inevitable this day would come, but he wished it hadn’t been mid season, where his chances for in-depth discussion would be few and far between. Unless he could persuade Darcy to accompany him to the track, and after today there was less likelihood of that than persuading her to fly to the moon.

He was pouring the liquid into two mugs when a sound alerted him to her presence. She leaned against the doorjamb, her long legs bare and a tiny skirt and strappy top covering what needed to be covered to preserve her decency.

“What a load of cobblers you spouted. ‘My wife has a busy life and we prefer to have our time together without interruptions. Those moments are precious and I’m greedy enough not to want to share them with anyone else. Lucky for me she feels the same’.” Darcy parroted his explanation in the interview in a sarcastic tone. “Yuck, so icky-sicky. Why didn’t you just divorce me?” She held her sunglasses by one of the arms and spun them around before jamming them on her nose. “You have grounds. I left you.”

It was a pity, because Gael could no longer see her eyes to gauge her reaction to his words. “Sadly I couldn’t find any Italian coffee, but I’ve done the best I could.”

“You get whatever was on offer and lump it. I buy for myself, not for unwelcomed guests.”

He winced very theatrically, and was immediately ashamed when she coloured and looked away from him.

“Why should I divorce you? I took my vows in all faith, and intended to abide by them. I still do. In sickness and in health, in good times and bad. Etcetera. The fact we are apart does not negate my love for you. That strengthens every day. It is above everything. It’s your choice not to be with me, and I have to accede to your preference.” He took a swallow of coffee and grimaced. “It was pigs’ swill on sale, cara. You were robbed if they called it coffee. False advertising.”

“Join the real world, caro. See how the most of us live.”

 

Happy Reading.

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/the-racing-drivers-wife-by-raven-mcallan

www.ravenmcallan.com

 


 

 

 

Spotlight: The Contract by Raven McAllan #Contemp #RoTG @RavenMcAllan @EvernightPub

 

Living in Scotland where summer can be one day in May, and the midges rule from June to September, give me somewhere warm any day. After all mozzies respond to repellent, I swear midges thumb their noses up at it.

I love to travel, and I like setting my books in places I know, so I guess it was inevitable that as I sat by a pool in Barbados I got the idea for this book. (Lot’s of ‘I’s’ in there, ooops, sorry.)

Hubby got used to me saying, stop the car while I take a photo, as we drove around, and then scribbling in a notebook, things I didn’t want to forget.

The upshot, is The Contract, now released by Evernight Publishing.

TheContract-evernightpublishing-JayAheer2015-ver2-3Drender

Blurb…
Walking out of her job was the best thing Nikki Plummer ever did. What she didn’t expect however, was to be tracked down by some hot bod, claiming she owed him.

Ruari Cameron has come to collect what he has paid for, but one look at Nikki, and there’s only one thing he wants. Her in every facet of his life.

Of course convincing Nikki of this might take some doing…but he’s more than ready to rise to the occasion.

Will they find their happy ever after under the Barbados sun?

 

This is how she got there…

(a wee tease)

“Plum.”

“Go away, I’m not listening.” Nikki Plummer, often called Plum and she hated it, finished emptying her head-high cupboard and slammed the door—hard. Her boss moved back in a hurry to avoid her toes, knees, designer shoes, and anything else in the vicinity being pinched between the door and the jamb. Her numerous bracelets jangled as she did so, and seemed to add their displeasure to the wearer’s.

“Plum, don’t be silly, it was a mistake.”

There it was again. Did the stupid woman have no sense whatsoever? Plum was for signing her work, nothing else. Sheesh, she’d told everyone often enough, and most people accepted it.

Not this one.

The noise of a stiletto tapping impatiently on the parquet flooring only firmed Nikki’s mind up. Her boss could go to hell. The hard way. On her Manolos.

“No.” No to whatever you want. It’s over.

“You’re overreacting, like I said it’s all a silly mistake.” There was a definite note of panic in the voice now. “Plum, stop it and listen to me.”

Yeah, yours you bitch.

“No one called Plum around here.” Nikki checked her desk drawer. She removed three pens, a diary, and her hot as Hades red lipstick and threw them in her kitchen sink-sized bag. Satisfied there was nothing more lurking in a corner, she grabbed her sprint from the underground—fondly known as The Clockwork Orange—ballet flats and stood up. Anything else? Not that she wanted or needed anyway. The rest of the stuff came with the job and could stay with it.

The feeling, the glorious feeling of liberation kicked in. Nikki zipped her bag and put on her jacket.

“Nikki, for god’s sake stop this nonsense.” The voice rose to a screech just one notch short of shattering glass. The panic in it was evident. “Stop being a drama queen and vying for notice.” The other five or six people in the office gave up their pretense of not earwigging and listened openly.

Nikki winced at the shrill tone. “No one could ever even think of vying for attention, Geraldine, in here,” she said calmly, knowing her even note and lack of concern would infuriate the other woman. “Yours or anyone else’s. You command the field in that respect, even down to your own attention, weird though it sounds. Luckily I neither want nor need it. Not now. You fired me, I’m out of here.”

Geraldine Butters stared at her. “I was joking.”

At the back of the room someone coughed, ‘bullshit’.

“You should know I didn’t mean what I said. It was said in jest.” Now the voice was full of panic. “Take off your jacket, put down your bag and get on with that project. I need it by the end of the month. Only you can do it.”

Now we’re getting to the crux of the matter. The project, whatever it is and your lack of ability. Well tough. Too bad, that’s one joke that misfired on you then.

“Don’t care, too late, goodbye.”

“You little bitch, you’ll pay for this. I gave you a job, I sorted your mess…”

That was the last straw. Nikki picked up the waste paper basket, full of sweet wrappers, old take away coffee cups as well as torn bits of paper, old train tickets, and all the detritus of a busy office and upended it over Geraldine’s head.

 

www.evernightpublishing.com/the-contract-by-raven-mcallan

 

Bio:   A multi-published, best selling author of erotic romance, Raven lives in Scotland, Raven photo smaller pic May 15 copyalong with her husband, in a house much too big for them—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.

She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge. As once she is writing she is oblivious to everything else, her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.

 

http://www.ravenmcallan.com

http:/ /www.ravenmcallan.blogspot.com

https://www.facebook.com/rmcallan       (my page)

https://www.facebook.com/ravenmcallan         (author page)

https://twitter.com/RavenMcAllan

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

 

 


 

Interview with Raven McAllan #Romance #BDSM @RavenMcAllan @EvernightPub

hisbossherdom1sAvailable today from http://www.EvernightPublishing.com

Good morning, Raven. Thanks for stopping by! 
Congratulations on your newest release, “His Boss, Her Dom”.

Aww Thank you so much. I’m doing my usual chair swivel jiggle of excitement here. I never ever lose the thill of a new release.

What do you think readers will love about this story?

I hope they’ll love the way Jamie and Eva interact, appreciate the humor, drool over the hero, egg the heroine on and get all hot and bothered over the sex. Oh and boo at the baddy.

And I hope they want to follow their story to see how it ends.

How long does it generally take you to write a book?

How long is a piece of string. It varies so much. I wrote 50k in two weeks once, or it can take me that long to do 15. It depends on how much housework I have to do, how many of the family are around, whether I’m on holiday. I get very little done at weekends because that’s family time. I try to do 10k a week minimum, (and hope for more) but then there’s edits, blogging, coffee, booming ironing… And I do try to walk for at least 90 minutes a day with a friend and her dogs. I get twitchy if i don’t at least add to whatever WIP I’m on every day. I seem to write a lot very early in the morning.

Name 5 pet peeves that drive you insane.

Rudeness.

Cold callers on the phone when I’ve told them 10 times I do not want whatever they’re on about.

People who eat gluten filled biscuits in front of me when they know I can’t ( not really I just get all reminiscing and envious) .

Bubble gum bubbles. Yuk, disgusting.

People who, when you tell them you can’t eat gluten say, “oh go on a little bit won’t harm you.” Oh yes it will…

How has winter been in the UK this year? If you could be anywhere else right now, where would it be?

Um I seen to have spent a month of it out of the country…(Hong Kong and Tenerife) But, well wet cold and a wee bit of snow. And I’d prefer to be anywhere warm and sunny. South Africa, Australia, New Zealand, The Caribbean…

If we were to look in your closet, what do you think we’d be surprised to find? *g*

My 1960’s genuine Mary Quant tights and my original op-art shift dress…And yes they do still fit me 😉

What are you writing next?

*deep breath*

Well, I’m finishing off a Regency contracted series (Moon Curse, the first book High tide is out in June.)

I have two more contemporary stories to write for Diomhair, my BDSM series set in a Scottish Castle, and then I’m waiting to sign a contract for two books. The first is a Regency, Find the Lady ( which hopefully will be out in July) The second is up to me, and needs to be written by the end of December. Very excited…

And there’s so much more I want to do… I have a list lol

 

His Boss, Her Dom is published on 27th February by http://www.evernightpublishing.com

Buy Now

 

Excerpt:

Why the hell did she look familiar? Jamie scratched the ears of Russ, and searched his  brain. He’d seen her before, he was sure of it, but for the life of him couldn’t think where. He hoped to god it wasn’t somewhere that could jeopardize this job.

The voluptuous woman standing in front of him was, he judged, in her early to mid forties, so around ten or twelve years older than him, with a body he itched to taste. Those curves were made for him to touch and hold and…whoa, hold it there. She’s not one of the subbies who want a little bit of pain, nipple clamps, a nice crop mark over their ass, and a butt plug. She’s just someone on this postal round that may or may not know something to help me. More’s the pity. He coughed to regain her attention.

“Bad news?”

“What?” The woman—Eva—looked up from the paper in her hand with a peculiar smile on her face. “Oh no just the opposite. Am I last on your route like normal?”

He nodded. “Well you’re last on my route anyway.”

“Good, then you can come in and tell me all about it.” She unlocked the door and preceded him into the kitchen. “Russ can come in as well. I can’t be doing with chasing after him again. Although he has a well honed sense of preservation, and after the first kick up the jacksie the asshole, sorry my neighbor gave him, he only heads off in that direction when their car has gone down the lane.”

Jamie shut the door behind them. Even though the day passed as warm for Scotland, there was enough humidity to make the midges a pain in the ass. A pain everywhere in all honesty. He scratched a bite and made a mental note to put repellant in the van the next day.

“Here.” Eva handed him a small bottle. “Antihistamine. It’ll stop you itching. At this time of year the midges are horrendous. Lovely long evenings that I admire from behind glass, and watch clouds of the buggers trying to get in. Remember, repellent is your best friend on this route.” She picked up the kettle and turned on the tap.

Jamie laughed. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Eva spun round from the sink, unheeding of the water that spilled over her hands and dripped onto the floor. “Why did you call me Ma’am?”

Now he was confused. “Well, you sounded bossy. Sorry, I thought you’d get the joke. You know Ma’am, in charge sort of thing. I’m sorry if it upset you.” Shit, I hope she’s not one of those touchy feminist types.

“Not at all. I just wondered why Ma’am.” She turned back to the sink, switched the tap off and then the kettle on before mopping the floor. Only then did she swivel around to face him again. “And yes, Sergeant, you can call me Ma’am, if you want to. Otherwise, here, Eva will be fine.”

He knew fine well his jaw dropped. She’d made him? How the fuck?

Eva smiled at him. “Sorry Sergeant.” She waved the letter he’d brought, and she’d signed for. “It doesn’t matter how often I tell them that post to this neck of the woods takes longer than in the city, do they ever listen?” she asked—rhetorically he assumed. “Oh no,” she went on. “They post this at some stupid hour of the night and expect me to get it the day after. Not only that some penny pinching asshat put a second class stamp on it. So, Sergeant James Swinton, from a different area of the force, How about telling me what you’ve found out.”

He shut his mouth, and swallowed heavily. “Ah. Oh bollocks, am I deep in the shit?”

“Ah, indeed.” Eva reached into a drawer and took out small leather wallet. “And no, not at all, unless you think you should be for not recognizing me.” She went bright red. “Although I’ve only had brief contact with you. I…er…taught a session when you were on a training course last year.” She, handed him the wallet, and he saw what was inside.

A warrant card with her photo on and stating she was a Chief Inspector in the Scottish Police force. Okay, he’d buy that, even though it was the biggest cock deflator since Sadie Stewart laughed at his attempt to find her clit. Mind you he was only a teenager at the time, and his aim and attention to the female body had improved considerably since then.

“Ma’am.” He snapped to attention and she laughed.

“I’m allegedly on holiday, and you’re allegedly a postie, so we can cut the formalities I reckon. Time enough to get out the tags and labels when we have to. You’re a long way from home, why did they choose you?”

Why did he think she was deliberately changing the subject? Oh she’d taught him, he didn’t disbelieve that, but there was something else, he’d stake his pension on it. Now he thought about it, he couldn’t believe he’d missed the connection. However this luscious woman with, he reckoned, braless breasts covered in a soft lawn gypsy style blouse, teamed with a long almost see through maxi skirt was nothing like the stern-faced woman in uniform that had addressed his class. Only the eyes were the same. A deep glittering blue-green that reminded him of the Caribbean Sea. As he stared into her eyes, a dim memory teased him. Where else had he seen eyes that beautiful color?

 

Author Bio:

Well what can I say?

I’m growing old disgracefully and loving it.

Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.Hair july 14

Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so to speak.

I write in my study, which overlooks the garden and the lane. I’m often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I’m not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.

Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.

http://www.ravenmcallan.com

http:/ /www.ravenmcallan.blogspot.com

https://www.facebook.com/rmcallan       (my page)

https://www.facebook.com/ravenmcallan         (author page)

https://twitter.com/RavenMcAllan

http://www.amazon.com/Raven-McAllan/e/B00694RHJI/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_11?qid=1408015501&sr=1-11

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Raven-McAllan/e/B00694RHJI/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_11?qid=1408015501&sr=1-11