Watch This Space–Elisabeth Joye

ilustration of concert spot lighting over dark background and wood floor

Just in time for celebrating the New Year, Invisible Ink by Elisabeth Joye releases on New Year’s Eve.  This hot erotic romance is her first self-published novella.

Here’s the book blurb:

Lex has never felt more exposed.

She has just allowed Jake Reed, the lead singer of rock band Inkjet, to undress her and tie her to a chair backstage after a show, only to have him leave to go sign autographs.

It is the start of a dark, obsessive relationship that will lead Lex, a 20-something public relations professional from L.A., to lose herself almost entirely as she struggles to break through her sexual boundaries without falling in love with Jake, an intimidatingly gorgeous Hollywood actor/rock star who closely guards his emotions.

What starts as a series of casual hookups ends up a powerful addiction that will push Lex past all her sexual boundaries as Jake moves repeatedly in and out of her life, making few promises along the way. Lex fights to keep a sense of herself while she succumbs to Jake’s glamorous world and his irresistible allure.

Elisabeth Joye Bio Photo.jpg

More about Elisabeth Joye:

Elisabeth Joye used to write about Congress. Now, she writes about sex. A former political journalist, she’s wanted to write a romance novel since she was 12 and finally found the inspiration to do it by incorporating her love of concerts and musicians. Invisible Ink is her first self-published novella.

Elisabeth’s philosophy when writing romance is simple – she writes what she thinks is hot and hopes others will, too. She wants to create characters who speak, act and fall in love like real people with issues, flaws and fears. But, above all, the sex is got to be hot.

When she’s not writing, Elisabeth is a stay-at-home mom to her four-year-old son. She loves fangirling her favorite celebrities and reading true crime obsessively. She didn’t have a smartphone until 2013 and now couldn’t live without social media and text messaging. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and family.

You can connect with Elisabeth Joye on Social Media:

Web site: http://www.elisabethjoye.com
Amazon Author Page: Author.to/ElisabethJoye
Twitter: @elisabethjoye, https://twitter.com/elisabethjoye
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/elisabethjoyeauthor
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/elisabethjoye
Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/elisabethjoye
Goodreads Author Page: http://bit.ly/GRElisabethJoye
Goodreads Book Link: http://bit.ly/InvisibleInkGR

(Photo of the author by SJMacky Photography)

How about a nice spicy excerpt of Invisible Ink by Elisabeth Joye?

“What are you up to?” I asked.

“Stay here, don’t move.”

He went and flipped on one of the stage lights right on me and then planted himself in a front row seat. I could barely make out his face.

“Strip,” came his instructions over the microphone.

I stood and looked at him blankly for a second.

“This is why you brought me here?”

“I can’t hear you, but if I could, it doesn’t matter, because no talking, baby girl. You know my rules,” he ordered, his soft voice booming through the sound system.

I had already proven to him I was up for anything he asked for, so I did as I was told, removing my tank top and jeans and stepping out of my slip-ons.

“All of it,” he said.

The air was cool on my skin, but the lights were hot as hell. I looked around for a minute, over my shoulder and into the wings of the stage.

“No one’s here, I checked, don’t worry,” he breathed into the mic, his voice lowering.
I took off my underwear and I stood there naked in front of him, exactly what he wanted.

“Good. Now, walk the catwalk for me.”

I shot him an exasperated, confused look.

“See that curved path in front of the stage right before the seats? That thing. Walk it.”

I felt utterly ridiculous as I padded my way down the catwalk and moved back and forth across the crescent-shaped little path that brought me closer to where Jake had perched himself.

I concentrated mostly on not falling and trying to look as poised as possible. I could feel his eyes on me from below, burning into me.

Then he laughed.

It wasn’t into the mic, but I was close enough to him that I could hear him.

“God, Jake, don’t be a fucking asshole and laugh at me up here!” I glared at him and he looked so smug. I wanted both to climb on top of him and also to punch him. If I would have known I would be naked on a stage, I would have worn heels or hit the gym more this week or…

“I was thinking about how a lot of girls wouldn’t do this if I told them to,” he said, smiling. “And if they did, they’d try to…do a stripper show for me or look seductive. But you’re …like…” he searched for the word he wanted to use. “there. You’re real. It’s fucking perfect.”

“You don’t have to flatter me, Jake,” I said, suddenly feeling more exposed. “You already have me. Obviously.”’

He looked me in the eye for a long time. His stare made the moment suddenly serious. Then he looked me up and down for longer than I was comfortable.

“Spin.”

I did.

“Slower.”

He was silent and I felt sick to my stomach with nerves, overwhelmed with self-conscious fears. He was pushing me too far.

I faced him again and stood there, my hand on my hip.

“Jesus Christ, Lex,” he said. “You’re so fucking hot. And you don’t even know it.”

I looked down at him, shrugged slightly, and said, “It only matters that you know it, Jake.”

He smiled big, showing off his perfect teeth.

“Is that so?” He stood up and used all his strength to lift himself up on the walkway. He pressed himself up against me, picked me up, and moved us both back to the main part of the stage.

My naked skin rubbed against his clothing as I wrapped my body around him, my legs gripping his waist, his hands cupping my bare ass. I kissed his neck lightly and then moved to his lips as he set me down and cupped my ass in his hands.

“So you said you wanted to do something I’d never done before,” he said, pushing my shoulders down so I knelt on the stage in front of him. “I’ve always wanted to fuck a girl on a stage and where better to do that than the Los Angeles Amphitheater, right?”

On my knees, I knew he wanted something else first. A blow job. My stomach flipped again. Although we’d obviously already had a lot of sex, I had tactfully avoided trying to put his erection in my mouth until now.

I didn’t have a ton of confidence about my blow job skills in the first place, and his cock was by definition intimidating — larger than average, attached to a famous, super hot guy, and sexually powerful enough to take over my mind and life. It had unwittingly become the center of my universe.

Oral sex with Jake would put me in control for the first time. What if I didn’t do what he liked and I was desperate to please him the way he had pleased me.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you what I want you to do,” he said softly, cradling my chin with his long fingers. He was a mind reader.

He undid his zipper and lowered his jeans on his hips enough that I had access to his full length.

I gripped one hand around the shaft and positioned my mouth around the tip, waiting for whatever instructions he had in mind. But instead of speaking, he grabbed me roughly by my hair and pushed into me as far as he could until I let out a muffled cry.
I closed my eyes and let my tongue dance around while he pulled my head into him and then out again by my hair, slowly at first so I could adjust and then at the pace he wanted.

I could not have been more compromised or exposed on a stage meant for an audience of thousands giving a fucking blowjob. But all I could think about was him and my hot breath and his skin against me. The setting fell away and time fell away with it.

Okay, now you know you’re in!  So where can you get your own copy of Elisabeth Joye’s Invisible Ink?  Just click this link.  And…Happy New Year!

 

 

New Teaser–Broken Harts

Recently, I wrote a little chapter in response to a challenge by Patient Lee.  I kind of like what I ended up with, but now I’m curious to find out where the story goes.  So I’ll be adding it to my Teasers tab, but before I do I realized that this song is the perfect companion piece.  I’m posting it here today and I hope you enjoy.

Broken Harts

Ali Hart tightly gripped the pole as the subway jostled along the tracks.  She grimaced as she caught her reflection in the window, her red hair hanging in loose waves around her shoulders, her brown eyes looking tired from the strain of the past week.  The car was surprisingly packed for this time of day and she shifted in an attempt to move away from the man who’d stepped on her toes for the third time.  I hate the city.

“But Alison, it’s not like you have a real job.  You can’t possibly expect Brendan and I to just drop everything and run to New York to deal with Dad.”

Ali replayed the conversation in her head.  “I do have a real job.  I just happen to do it from my home.  In Florida, I might add.”

Her sister Megan had rolled her eyes.  “You write kids’ books.  Big woo!  Anybody can do that.  And you don’t have a family like we do.”

It was true.  Ali lived a solitary life in her condo overlooking the Atlantic Ocean on Juno Beach.  It wasn’t as though she never dated, she’d simply never found anyone she could see spending forever with.  It could be that she’d never met anyone who matched up to her idea of the perfect man.

Ali had always been her Daddy’s girl.  Jackson Hart, Pulitzer prize-winning author, had never been an easy man to live with but by the time Alison was born, age had mellowed him a bit.  The fact that she’d turned out to be a writer had pleased him endlessly, much to the disdain of her older brother and sister, Brendan and Megan.

So when the old man had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, the Hart sibling consensus was that Ali was the natural choice to deal with the fallout.

As the train pulled into the station, Clumsy Feet stepped on her toes for the fourth time and  Ali glared at him.  “Oh, thank God,” she muttered to herself, allowing the sea of commuters exiting the train to wash her out onto the platform.

Ali was pushed along as everyone hurried on their way until the crowd thinned enough for her to see the 86 on the wall.  “Eighty-sixth? Shit!”  The Alzheimer’s care center she’d been headed to was on 96th.  She turned just as the doors closed and the train moved out of the station.

“Great!  Just fabulous.”  Walking ten blocks wouldn’t normally be a problem.  But the temperature was an unpleasant thirty-eight degrees and there was a nasty sleet coming down. There was nothing to do except wait for the next train and hope she’d still be on time for her appointment.   I hate the city.

***

“My God, Logan, the wedding’s in six months!  We have to make these decisions!”

Logan Pryce rolled his eyes as he juggled his phone, his brown leather messenger bag, and the rolls of plans while he walked down the stairs into the 86th Street subway station.  “I know, Catherine, but honestly, I trust your taste.  Pick what you like.”

“Sometimes I’m not sure you really want to get married,” she pouted into the phone.

Sometimes I’m not sure myself.  He rolled his eyes again.  “Catherine, I’m working.  My client wants to build some retail space in the subway station.  That’s where I am right now.”  He aimed for patient and reasonable.  “Listen, pick the flowers you like or wait until I get back to Chicago tonight.  Either way will be fine.  I promise.  But I’ve got to go.”

He disconnected with Catherine and looked around for the clients he was meeting.  Winning the bid for the subway retail space was a big coup for his architectural firm.  Pryce Designs was highly successful in Chicago but this job would open the doors to the lucrative Manhattan market.

As he scanned the crowded station, his gaze was drawn to a woman who’d just gotten off the train.  The first thing he noticed was her brilliant red hair.  Even in the dim white light of the platform, her hair gave off a golden glow and he had the sudden urge to see it in the bright sunlight.

She reversed direction as if to re-enter the train but the doors closed and the train left.  Even from his distance he could see her annoyance.  He wondered what was wrong.  Perhaps she’d forgotten something.  Or she’d gotten off at the wrong stop.  Goodness knows, he’d gotten off at the wrong stop a time or two.  He grinned at the memory.

Then, as if she felt him watching her, she looked up straight into his eyes and he felt a jolt of electricity.  He watched her brown eyes widen as she looked back at him.  It felt as though everything in the busy station stopped as they gazed at each other across the heads of hundreds of passersby.  Logan felt his breath leave his body.

Suddenly, a large man barreled into the woman and she went down.  Logan was by her side in an instant.  “Are you alright?”

“I think so,” she answered shakily.  She was sitting on the filthy floor of the platform.

“Let me help you up.”  He took her hand and gently helped her stand.  “Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

Again, those deep brown eyes bore into his.  “No, I think I’m alright.”

They stood that way, lost in each other’s eyes.  “Can we…” Logan began as the next train arrived.

The woman moved her gaze to the train.  “I have to go.  I’m late for an appointment.  This wasn’t my stop.”  She seemed apologetic.

Logan stepped back to allow her past him and onto the train.  She stood just inside the doorway and as it closed, she placed her palm on the glass.  Logan pressed his palm to the outside of the glass and they stared at each other until the train left the station.


Christmas Sale!

Rannigan 1 coupon saleAnnouncing a coupon sale on Rannigan’s Redemption Part 1: Resisting Risk.  From now through Monday, December 28, you can own the first book of the Rannigan’s Redemption trilogy for only .99!

Just click on the image to go to Smashwords and use the promo code KB73K.

Because you won’t want to be behind.  Rannigan’s Redemption Part 2: Running Rogue is coming soon!

Stay tuned…

Cover Reveal! Rannigan’s Redemption Part 2!

When I began writing Rannigan’s Redemption, I had no plans to release it in three books.  But…  This is a really long story.  The first part is about 65,000 words.  So it made sense to break it into three digestible sections.

Part 1: Resisting Risk was released in early December to all 5 Star Reviews.  It does, however, end in something of a cliff-hanger, much to the ire of many readers.  So I have been madly editing Part 2: Running Rogue and plan to release it in early February.

Cover for Rannigan's Redemption Part 2_ Running RogueIn appreciation for your support, my friends and readers, I present to you for the first time anywhere, the cover of Rannigan’s Redemption Part 2: Running Rogue.

Keep watching here for updates on the release.

Radio Challenge–Broken Harts

This story is for a little challenge issued by the incomparable Patient Lee.  The idea was to turn on regular radio and write a story inspired by the next song that comes on.

My song was You’re Beautiful by James Blunt.  The specific lines that spoke to me are:

You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.
You’re beautiful, it’s true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don’t know what to do,
‘Cause I’ll never be with you.

I don’t normally write short stories, but this might just be the seed idea for a new novel.  So…  Here goes.

Broken Harts

 Ali Hart tightly gripped the pole as the subway jostled along the tracks.  She grimaced as she caught her reflection in the window, her red hair hanging in loose waves around her shoulders, her brown eyes looking tired from the strain of the past week.  The car was surprisingly packed for this time of day and she shifted in an attempt to move away from the man who’d stepped on her toes for the third time.  I hate the city.

“But Alison, it’s not like you have a real job.  You can’t possibly expect Brendan and I to just drop everything and run to New York to deal with Dad.”

Ali replayed the conversation in her head.  “I do have a real job.  I just happen to do it from my home.  In Florida, I might add.”

Her sister Megan had rolled her eyes.  “You write kids’ books.  Big woo!  Anybody can do that.  And you don’t have a family like we do.”

It was true.  Ali lived a solitary life in her condo overlooking the Atlantic Ocean on Juno Beach.  It wasn’t as though she never dated, she’d simply never found anyone she could see spending forever with.  It could be that she’d never met anyone who matched up to her idea of the perfect man.

Ali had always been her Daddy’s girl.  Jackson Hart, Pulitzer prize-winning author, had never been an easy man to live with but by the time Alison was born, age had mellowed him a bit.  The fact that she’d turned out to be a writer had pleased him endlessly, much to the disdain of her older brother and sister, Brendan and Megan.

So when the old man had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, the Hart sibling consensus was that Ali was the natural choice to deal with the fallout.

As the train pulled into the station, Clumsy Feet stepped on her toes for the fourth time and  Ali glared at him.  “Oh, thank God,” she muttered to herself, allowing the sea of commuters exiting the train to wash her out onto the platform.

Ali was pushed along as everyone hurried on their way until the crowd thinned enough for her to see the 86 on the wall.  “Eighty-sixth? Shit!”  The Alzheimer’s care center she’d been headed to was on 96th.  She turned just as the doors closed and the train moved out of the station.

“Great!  Just fabulous.”  Walking ten blocks wouldn’t normally be a problem.  But the temperature was an unpleasant thirty-eight degrees and there was a nasty sleet coming down. There was nothing to do except wait for the next train and hope she’d still be on time for her appointment.   I hate the city.

***

“My God, Logan, the wedding’s in six months!  We have to make these decisions!”

Logan Pryce rolled his eyes as he juggled his phone, his brown leather messenger bag, and the rolls of plans while he walked down the stairs into the 86th Street subway station.  “I know, Catherine, but honestly, I trust your taste.  Pick what you like.”

“Sometimes I’m not sure you really want to get married,” she pouted into the phone.

Sometimes I’m not sure myself.  He rolled his eyes again.  “Catherine, I’m working.  My client wants to build some retail space in the subway station.  That’s where I am right now.”  He aimed for patient and reasonable.  “Listen, pick the flowers you like or wait until I get back to Chicago tonight.  Either way will be fine.  I promise.  But I’ve got to go.”

He disconnected with Catherine and looked around for the clients he was meeting.  Winning the bid for the subway retail space was a big coup for his architectural firm.  Pryce Designs was highly successful in Chicago but this job would open the doors to the lucrative Manhattan market.

As he scanned the crowded station, his gaze was drawn to a woman who’d just gotten off the train.  The first thing he noticed was her brilliant red hair.  Even in the dim white light of the platform, her hair gave off a golden glow and he had the sudden urge to see it in the bright sunlight.

She reversed direction as if to re-enter the train but the doors closed and the train left.  Even from his distance he could see her annoyance.  He wondered what was wrong.  Perhaps she’d forgotten something.  Or she’d gotten off at the wrong stop.  Goodness knows, he’d gotten off at the wrong stop a time or two.  He grinned at the memory.

Then, as if she felt him watching her, she looked up straight into his eyes and he felt a jolt of electricity.  He watched her brown eyes widen as she looked back at him.  It felt as though everything in the busy station stopped as they gazed at each other across the heads of hundreds of passersby.  Logan felt his breath leave his body.

Suddenly, a large man barreled into the woman and she went down.  Logan was by her side in an instant.  “Are you alright?”

“I think so,” she answered shakily.  She was sitting on the filthy floor of the platform.

“Let me help you up.”  He took her hand and gently helped her stand.  “Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

Again, those deep brown eyes bore into his.  “No, I think I’m alright.”

They stood that way, lost in each other’s eyes.  “Can we…” Logan began as the next train arrived.

The woman moved her gaze to the train.  “I have to go.  I’m late for an appointment.  This wasn’t my stop.”  She seemed apologetic.

Logan stepped back to allow her past him and onto the train.  She stood just inside the doorway and as it closed, she placed her palm on the glass.  Logan pressed his palm to the outside of the glass and they stared at each other until the train left the station.


Think About Your Ideal Leading Man

handsome young man in suit

When I created Michael Rannigan of Rannigan’s Redemption, I took the risk of writing a leading man who isn’t completely likeable.  On the surface, he’s arrogant, self-absorbed, and always out for himself.  Beneath that, I put layers of vulnerability and unexpected tenderness.

Is he the perfect book boyfriend?  What is your favorite type of leading man?

Check back for the results!  Your ideal man might just be in my next book.

Rannigan’s Redemption Part 1: Resisting Risk Excerpt

Rannigan Part 1 for gif

The first part of Rannigan’s Redemption has exceeded expectations by earning all 5 Star Reviews.  It’s an exciting, smart sexy romance set in a Manhattan law firm.  I want to celebrate Saturday (and after a week like I’ve had, this is indeed a reason to celebrate) by releasing a new excerpt.

     Michael Rannigan dry gulped three ibuprofen tablets as the car from the service weaved its way through mid-day Manhattan traffic. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a hangover. The previous night had been exceptional. At an art gallery opening, he’d met twin flight attendants who matched him drink for drink before going home with him for an extended threesome adventure.
I’m getting too old for this shit. Should have called in sick today. As a partner at Murphy, Rannigan, there was no one to question his absence. But it was his turn representing the firm at the job fair at NYU. Brian Murphy was out of the country on vacation. And James Metheny was recovering from surgery. Tonsils or some shit, Michael mused. Didn’t everyone have their tonsils out when they were five?
Sure the firm needed new talent. But why did he need to be there? He knew exactly why. Without his presence, John Hemphill would be the senior man there, and that couldn’t happen. Hemphill’s an idiot, he thought.
The car dropped him at the entrance to Vanderbilt Hall. He knew it well. After all, NYU was his alma mater. He took a moment to straighten his tie before entering the building. As expected, the hall was full of fresh young faces, soon-to-graduate litigators who needed jobs. Unconsciously his eye roved, looking for nubile young female candidates. Not necessarily for the firm, mind you. He was always on the lookout for his next conquest. He passed a group of girls who giggled as he walked by.
“Ladies,” he greeted them, flashing his mega-watt smile. Just get this over with, he begged as he zeroed in on the Murphy, Rannigan table.
Already seated at the table were John Hemphill, Stan Hodges, and Ellen Standifer. The trio were associates from the elite 50th floor of Murphy, Rannigan. They were good enough at what they did, which was mostly research and legwork, with the occasional foray into the courtroom when necessity called. Each had a laptop and on the table was a spreadsheet they’d worked out back at the office. Of course, they’d vetted possible candidates before they ever set foot at the university. Preparation saves time in the long run, they knew.
Michael took a bottled water from the table and sipped, standing behind the three and continuing to scan the room. “What’ve we got?” he asked.
Hemphill gave him a brief rundown. “We’ve interviewed five candidates so far, five of the ones we were interested in. We’ve turned away about a dozen others that didn’t meet our standards,” he related in his adenoidal drone that so grated on Michael.
“You’re turning away interviewees who aren’t on your candidate list?” Michael snapped. “How sure are you that your list is accurate? Paper and data don’t always tell the story.” Hemphill reddened a bit.
“Well, I…” the man floundered.
Michael grinned to himself. It’s the little pleasures in life that make it all worthwhile, he thought. He watched as a young woman crossed the floor, seeming to make a beeline for their table. She was petite, with red hair, and she was wearing a grey suit paired with a green silk blouse. What have we here, he wondered.
“Hello,” said the young woman. “I’d like to interview with your firm.” She reached across the table to shake hands with the attorneys seated there.
“And you are?” Michael asked, still standing behind the others.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, clearly flustered. She opened her folio to remove copies of her resume and several slipped out, sailing across the floor. Michael watched in amusement as she scrambled to gather them up again. “Sorry,” she repeated, as she handed a document to each of them.
“Mary Margaret Flynn,” Michael read from the top line of the resume.
“Um, Maggie, actually,” the young woman corrected.
“Have a seat, Ms. Flynn,” Hemphill directed as they read over her resume. Standifer pulled up Mary Margaret Flynn on their database and Hodges located her name on their spreadsheet. There were two stars beside her name. How have we not spoken with this one yet?
Michael took a seat directly across from her. He was impressed with the resume, and he’d found her name on the spreadsheet before Hodges had. He looked from the document back up to her face. Her green eyes were wide and as she sat, she fidgeted nervously with the atrocious vinyl folio containing her resumes.
“So Ms. Flynn, your resume is impressive. It says that you interned with Rance Stockwell at the DA’s office. I’m surprised he hasn’t offered you a job.”
“Oh, he has,” Maggie replied. “I just haven’t accepted yet.”
“Looking for better offers, are you?” Michael asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I have a great deal of student loan debt,” she confessed. “It makes sense to me to look around and find my best options.”
Michael leaned back in his chair. “Are you familiar with our firm?” he asked.
“Yes, actually,” Maggie answered. “I heard you speak once at a charity luncheon. You said that everyone is entitled to the best defense possible, regardless of the circumstances of their charges.”
Michael tried to suppress a smile. “I said that, did I?” The others at the table snickered.
Maggie’s face reddened a bit as she glanced down the line of lawyers. “It really resonated with me,” she said quietly. “I also tried one of your cases as a mock trial project.”
“Which case did you choose?” asked Michael.
“People v. Lawson.”
The other three snickered louder and Michael looked down at his notes, suppressing another grin. “Well, Ms. Flynn, if you were going to try one of my cases, you might have chosen one I actually won.”
Maggie glared indignantly at the panel. “I, well, I tweaked it a little. I uncovered evidence that you overlooked.” Michael sat up straight; she had his undivided attention. “Testimony in the deposition was contradicted on the witness stand. The victim stated in the deposition that she’d met the defendant two weeks prior to the incident. On the stand she said she’d just met him that night. It was enough doubt for the mock jury. I won your case.”
Michael looked at the other three. If someone had dropped the ball on the case, he or she was currently seated at the table. They all looked down, suddenly intensely interested in their notes.
He cleared his throat. “It seems, Ms. Flynn, we have everything we need. We’ll make a decision by the end of the week and let you know.”
Maggie stood and reached out her hand. “Thank you for your time.”
“Thank you,” Michael nodded, shaking her hand. He watched her walk back across the room and disappear in the crowd.

You can find Rannigan’s Redemption Part 1: Resisting Risk at these online retailers.

Amazon, iTunes, B&N, Kobo, and Smashwords

Keep watching for the cover reveal of Rannigan’s Redemption Part 2: Running Rogue.