Monday, February 27, 2012

I have a release date

His for the Weekend will be released this Friday.

I'm so happy.

Here's a blurb:

Cassandra Adams has a problem and its name is Marcus DeLuca. The man is quite determined to have her--on his terms. Cassie has had enough of domineering men in her life, yet she's drawn to strong, virile Marcus. Tempted to get that man out of her system once and for all, she agrees that she will be his for a weekend only--but then he must leave her alone forever.

Marcus will do anything to get sexy, non-committal Cassie into his arms, into his bed--failure is not an option. He wants nothing more than to keep Cassie in his life, but he senses a secret that keeps her from being able from committing--from submitting--to any man. Will Marcus's special brand of domination free her to be his for more than a weekend?

And an Excerpt:

“I can’t take this anymore.” Her voice was whisper soft, but he heard the words as clear as if she had shouted them.

His heart leaped—now he could prove to her there was more to him than a co-worker and give their relationship a chance. “What are you willing to give me?”

Her head snapped up and she gnawed on her lip. “Twenty-four hours.”

“Not enough. A hundred and twenty.”

Her mouth opened then closed. Her gaze darted left, then right, before settling back on his face. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. A good sign—she was willing to be his.

“Too long. Forty-eight.”

He stood and crossed over to her. He needed to be close to her as they negotiated. “Still not enough. Ninety-six uninterrupted hours with you.”

Her nose scrunched up and her lashes swept down, cutting off the view of her expressive eyes. “Sixty—six tonight until six Monday morning.”

He noted the stubborn set to her chin. It wasn’t ideal, but he could do it. He would not fail in winning her over. Leaning close, he whispered, “I’ll take it.”

She exhaled, lashes rising until she stared at him. “What are the ground rules?”

“There are none.”

Her eyes widened. Oh, yes, he had her now and he wasn’t letting go.

“No barriers. No rules.”

Her shoulders dipped, then straightened. She acted like she was preparing for a battle, but it would be a battle of sex. “All right, but when the sixty hours are done, we’re finished. I mean it. No flowers, no gifts, no mention of this weekend. Ever.”

Without another word, she spun on her heels to walk out of his office.

He was quick to cross the room. He captured her by the shoulders, bringing her to a halt. His lips brushed her ear and a shiver shook her. “Remember what I said at the party?”

She didn’t answer him, but her swift intake of breath was the only answer he needed. 

“You belong to me.” 

“I belong to no man.”

He slid his hands down her arms, past her clenched fists and encircled her waist, bringing her  back flush against his chest, her breathing shallow.

She didn’t struggle, not even when he tilted his hips, letting her know how much she aroused him.

“You will belong to me. I promise.”

If you would like a postcard and a bookmark (I should have them in the next two weeks), leave me your email address in your comments and I'll contact you for your snail mail address.

On Friday you can buy the book by clicking here

Have a great week.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Welcome to Sandra Sookoo

Today my guest is Sandra Sookoo, welcome Sandra.

Thank you for having me on your blog today!

I’ve always loved writing historical romance.  It’s something I enjoy, and I love doing the research, immersing myself into that lifestyle, time period, the clothes, what’s going on in world events, etc.

Recently, I’ve become fascinated and have fallen in love with the Civil War time period.  And no, I didn’t set A WOLFISH SCANDAL in the south or near any of the famous battlefields one would expect from a Civil War-era story.  I’m a bit of a wild card when it comes to writing.  I like obscure settings and off-the-beaten path sort of things, so I went for the setting of my home state Indiana.  In fact, I selected a smallish city to the north of where I live:  Noblesville.

Even better, when I started doing the research for this time period, I discovered Indiana had their one and only spotlight of the war in exactly the month I’d chosen to write in.  However, Indiana’s story happened in the southern part of the state, but with a little creative license and maneuvering logistics, I used that event in history as a spring board for the external conflict in my book.

Yes, I’m a research nerd.  Not only did I need to find out facts regarding Indiana and the Civil War, I also needed a medical ailment of the heart that would be popular at that time, something kinda sorta serious but livable.  Medical treatment wasn’t as advanced back then, so there were a variety of things I could choose from for my heroine.

I hope you’ll snag your own copy of A WOLFISH SCANDAL.  You can find it here:


Here’s the blurb:

He has nothing to live for.  She has nothing to lose.  Together, they have everything to gain.

Lyndal Carson's life is at a premium.  Afflicted with a heart ailment wherein she can drop dead at any time, she makes a pact with herself to create one scandal and to really live before she dies.  Tired of being a handmaiden to her family, she writes the letter that will change her destiny.

Grey Rutledge, a werewolf who is hounded by a reporter and haunted by memories, endeavors to provide a diversion large enough that the paper will forget its interest.  He invites twelve women to his estate on the premise of choosing one of them for his mate.  After the loss of his family, the only thing he wants is heirs and a woman by his side. 

As the days go on, both Lyndal and Grey find that elusive piece missing from their lives.  When their respective secrets are revealed, they both run the risk of losing everything.  Danger catches them unaware during an innocent afternoon but it's what is decided as life hangs in the balance that will change their lives forever.

And a short excerpt of the newspaper advertisement that started the scandal: 

With a tiny sigh, Lyndal proceeded on her journey. She clutched the strings of her reticule in one hand. Feeling a tad parched from the hot May sun and dust, she ducked into a café on the corner of Washington Street. After being led to a table near one of the windows and placing her order for a pot of Earl Grey and a plate of tea cakes, she arranged her full skirts over her crinoline and gazed again at the street traffic.

Somehow, she needed to affect a change in her life. If I want to matter to someone, if I want to make a difference—leave a memory behind—I need to stop waiting around for excitement and find it myself.

Perhaps it was interference from Providence; perhaps fate had one more trick up her sleeve, or perhaps it was merely a careless gust of wind when the front door opened, but a page from the Indianapolis Journal on an empty table nearby fluttered and took flight. It came to rest against her skirts. Lyndal bent slightly and plucked the errant paper from the floor then gaped as a headline from a personal advertisement caught her eye.

Wealthy land owner in Noblesville, Indiana hosting a house party—including Independence Day festivities—for the express purpose of finding a mate. Marriage could be an eventuality but the certainty of that outcome is not a definite. Companionship is the more immediate necessity. Experience in sensual bedroom arts is preferred but not required.

Inquires collected through the 30th of the month. Please indicate physical characteristics, flaws and any special talents. Also include a brief history and a short essay of why you would like to be considered.

Responses should be addressed to Mr. Franklin Garrett care of Rutledge Estates, Route 5. If you are chosen as one of the twelve candidates, further instructions will be sent no later than June 15th. As a footnote, ladies' maids or attendants will not be needed and are definitely not desired. Rutledge Estates boasts more than enough staff.

Shock ricocheted through her insides at the audacity of a man blatantly asking self-respecting women to reply to such an inquiry. Just think of the scandal! What kind of gentleman would proposition one woman let alone ask for a dozen to reside in his house without a proper chaperone? She crumpled the paper in her fists. A man who was not a gentleman. A man who cared not for conventions or rules. A man who wished to live life on his own terms. Her skin prickled. He must be quite powerful to thwart the proprieties and make it a public spectacle—or very daring.

"Is there a problem, miss?" A young woman in a black dress and white frilled apron asked as she set out the items for tea.

"Oh, no, but thank you. This looks lovely." Only when the woman moved on to attend to other diners did Lyndal smooth the paper out on her lap once more.

Experience in the bedroom arts? Surely the person who wrote this missive didn't mean to take the women he selected into his bed. Her cheeks heated at the thought. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. Was it a lark, a practical joke played on the newspaper office to take readers' minds off the war, a political stunt, a personal statement? What arrogance was at play to even pen such a request, what bold confidence that anyone would respond. Searching through the society section, her gaze landed on a grainy black-and-white photograph of the man in question.

Too blurry to do him justice, the one feature that seemed to jump off the page was his eyes. Intense, dark and focused, as if he watched her from the paper, they demanded her attention and subsequent submission. Her heart beat a little faster. Dark hair, heavy brows and a strong jaw that spoke of determination and an unwavering will. Yet her focus returned to his eyes. In her imagination, she could easily invent a tale of wounded vulnerability or maybe basic human need. Would his lips be firm or supple against hers? Was he a man of gentle caresses or did he demand women yield fully to him in the bedroom?

A blush heated her whole body and again, her heart raced with excitement or fear. Nonsense, Lyndal. You would never succumb to such temptation for the express reason you will not respond to this advertisement. Yet she couldn't look away from his eyes. As a whole, the picture portrayed a man of power, a man of magnetism. What would he be like? Was he as terrible as she thought based solely on his advertisement? Would she want to be judged on so little?

You can find me around the web at the following places:

Believing is Seeing blog:

Giveaway for this post:  I’ve got swag (postcards, bookmarks, etc) plus a replica of Civil War-era money.  Please remember to leave your contact information.  Random drawing winner will be announced February 21st.

Thanks so much for dropping by!

Monday, February 13, 2012


Well another week has gone by.  I'm making slow progress with my writing.

I'm on the 2nd round of galleys for His for The Weekend, so I should have a release date within the next few weeks to share with everyone.

I've been working on Theirs Forever, this book is stretching my limits as a writer.  It's my first committed menage book.

Ry and Jed have waited 7 years for Katie to come home, now that she has they are going to keep her there, by any means.

My two hero's are very alpha and very dominate, they are a little out of control right now, but I'm letting them tell me what they want.  I'll tone them down when I start the 2nd draft of the book, but on the first draft I let them have their way.

I want every to have a great week.

Monday, February 6, 2012


I found myself in an unusual discussion this weekend with a friend and fellow writer about reading choices and how I felt about reading out of my comfort zone.

As a writer I've pushed myself out of my comfort zone to see if I could write something, and I did.  As a writer, I've read some books that I am personally not totally comfortable with, but I learned from these writers which was part of my reason for reading them.

But it all comes down to choices.

As a writer I have a choice in what I write about, if I want to write about sexy cowboys knowing there are some readers who don't like sexy cowboy, that's okay.  If I choose to write about a virgin heroine who is swept away by the multi-millionaire hero bent on revenge knowing there are some readers that won't read it, that's okay. I know there are readers that will never pick up a romance, and that is fine.

Everyone has a choice in what they're comfortable in reading.  I don't feel anyone has the right to dictate to anyone what they should or should not be reading.

I read romance, I read all over the board romances.  Sweet, sexy, erotic, historical, contemporary, and paranormal romance.  Lately I've been reading YA with a bit of romance, and even some gay erotic romance.  But I don't expect everyone to want to read what I've read.

Some of what I read, pushes me out of my comfort zone, and that is okay with me because I know I'm being pushed out of my comfort zone.  I want to be pushed, because as a writer I want to learn from other writers.

Readers have choices, if they want to read nothing but sweet romances, or historical romances, or gay romances or inspirational romances.  That is their choice.

No writer has the right to demand anyone to read their book.  I do ask that people try and give it a go, but for some that isn't possible.

Morally, ethically, faith based, whatever, something stops the reader from reading a particular book.  It's no big deal, it happens.

We are all different, we all have our ways of thinking, we all grew up in different places, with different people, and in different situations.

I respect those differences, I only ask that you respect my differences.