Because I Couldn’t Resist…

The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame had its annual induction ceremony earlier this month and some great bands and artists were honored that night.  Included in this year’s roundup were Pearl Jam, Tupac Shakur, Journey, ELO, Yes, Joan Baez, and Nile Rodgers.

Tonight, HBO is airing the special event and I can’t wait.  I wrote a little snippet about the show on my other (more vanilla) blog, and I added a track from ELO.  But here, I thought a sexier little song was in order.  Enjoy Journey, with Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’.

Looking To Spice Up Your Love Life?

If you’ve been reading my posts for a while, or if you’ve ready my books, you know that I’ve been a lucky enough ginger to have found the love of my life. And although he’s not my first, he’s definitely my last, best love. We met online, and though I love to joke that we met on FarmersOnly.com, it was actually through Match.

We’ve been together for over a decade now, but it never hurts to add a little spice now and again.  Sexy lingerie or a new toy always add fun.

But sexy erotica author Christina Mandara brought iPassion to my attention, so I wanted to pass it along to you.

iTunesArtwork@2xNo matter your age, sexual orientation or relationship status, iPassion has developed a new kind of app (by the same name) that will get people talking about fantasies, turn-ons, turn-offs etc.

It launched less than 9 months ago and according to the startup founder, more than 200,000 people have used the app since then.

The app is designed as a game where you play on your own phone and your partner plays on his/hers. After you’ve created you username and your partner has done the same, you can connect in the app for the game to start. Then, you’ll have to answer 2 questions about your sexual preferences and guess what your partner answered for his/her questions from his/her turn. And so it goes on, each player having their turn and finding out more and more hot facts about their partner!

Kisses

And here’s the kicker – every time you guess your partner’s answer correctly, you’ll get 10 points and the first player to reach 100 points in a round, gets to select a hot prize like a a sexy massage, a hot night in a hotel etc.

During the game, players can chat within the app. For added privacy, the app utilizes a PIN code, meaning users can create their own PIN number which is required to open the app once it has been closed.

The idea came from my own relationship experiences where I, despite having been with my girlfriend for more than 7 years, discovered that we could still learn a lot about each other when asked some of the questions that are in the app. And a lot of our users have stated the same, explains J. Martin Moeller, the startup founder.

iPassion is currently available at the App Store and the Play Store and is available for both smartphone and tablets.

The app is currently available in 8 different languages including English, French and Spanish.

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Weekend Excerpt–Running Rogue

Last week, the first of the Rannigan’s Redemption trilogy, Resisting Risk, was available for free on iTunes, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo, as part of a holiday romance promotion.  It’s back to normal now, but I hope you were able to take advantage of the giveaway.

This week’s excerpt features a snippet from the second book, Running Rogue.  Michael and Maggie have parted ways, only to find themselves drawn together again a few years later after he receives some devastating news.  Doubting her judgement when it comes to men, Maggie decides that she’s probably better off alone.

rannigan2Maggie strode purposefully across the lobby of Michael’s building.  It had been a shit week and knowing that she had to work all weekend to make up for what she’d missed, all she wanted to do was to check in on Michael, deliver his soup, and head home to a nice hot bath and a large glass of wine.  Ahead of her a man was just stepping into the elevator and she increased her pace, hoping to make it before the doors closed.  He turned and their eyes met just as the doors slid shut.

“Well, shit!” she muttered, juggling her purse, her brief case, and the bag from the deli.  Just then the doors slid back open.

“Sorry about that,” the man said, “I didn’t realize you were right behind me.”  He held open the door as she stepped in and turned around.  “What floor?”

Maggie glanced up at him.  He was tall with broad shoulders, muscular without being muscle-bound, with wavy brown hair and sparkling blue eyes framed by the longest lashes she’d ever seen on a man.  She’d noticed a bit of a drawl when he spoke.  Dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, he’d apparently been working out in the gym.  He stood beaming at her with a boyish grin on his face and he seemed to be waiting for her.  She realized she was staring.

Oh, shit!  What floor?  “Oh, sorry, um, twenty-one, please.”

He grinned again.  “Twenty-one.  That’s my floor, too.”  He held out a hand.  “I’ve only been here a couple of months.  We haven’t met yet.  I’m Bobby.”

Maggie shifted the deli bag and grasped his hand.  “Um, I’m Maggie.  I don’t actually live here.  I’m visiting a friend.”  She paused.  “Do you know Michael in 2101?”

Bobby’s eyes widened and he took a step back.  “Oh.  You’re one of Michael’s girls.”

Maggie frowned.  “No.  I am absolutely not one of Michael’s girls.  Nope.  Not me.  No way.”  She shook her head emphatically.

Bobby grinned wryly.  “So you’re not one of Michael’s girls.”

She felt her face flush.  “I’ve known Michael for a long time.  We used to work together.  He’s a little…under the weather, and I told him I’d stop by, bring him some soup.”  She held up the deli bag for emphasis.

He flashed the boyish grin, blue eyes sparkling with amusement.  Maggie felt her pulse race and a warm flush crept up her neck.  What the hell?

“So you’re a lawyer.”

She nodded.  “Yep.  Sorry.”

“Why sorry?”

“Everybody hates lawyers,” she replied as the elevator doors opened on the twenty-first floor.  She stepped out into the hallway and immediately went down hard on her left knee.

“Motherfucker!” she cried out.

Bobby was beside her instantly.  “Are you alright?  What happened?”

Maggie looked around.  “My shoe.”  The heel of her right shoe was caught in the space between the elevator and the hallway.  It had snapped off as she stepped forward.  Bobby grabbed it before the doors closed, then gently took her arm and helped her up.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m alright, really,” she replied shakily.  Blood was dripping from her knee and running in rivulets all the way down her shin.

“You banged up your knee.”

“But I saved the soup, so there’s that,” she quipped.

He placed a hand on the small of her back and walked her down the hall, stopping at a door.  “This is me,” he said.  “Come in and let me at least bandage you up.”  Maggie regarded him warily.

“I’m not an axe murderer, I promise,” he laughed.

She frowned.  “Isn’t that exactly what an axe murderer would say?” she said as he unlocked the door.

“Tell you what–we’ll leave the door open.  You can sit right here.”  He pointed to a bench in the foyer.  “If I make any sudden moves you can run for it,” he chuckled.

Sheepishly, Maggie sank onto the bench.  Truthfully, her knee hurt.  She set down her things and glanced up at him.  “Thanks,” she said quietly.

Bobby smiled and gestured to his right.  “I’ll just…go get my axe.”

She could hear him in another room rummaging around through something.  She removed her broken shoe and held up the dismembered heel.  It had come clean off the sole.  An image flashed through her mind of the shoe repair shop just around the corner from her apartment.

“I can fix that for you.”  Startled, she looked up.  Bobby had returned with first aid supplies.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she said quickly.  “There’s a shop near my place.”

He poured alcohol on some gauze and knelt beside her.  “It won’t take me two seconds,” he murmured, dabbing at her knee.

Maggie breathed in sharply.  “Ouch!  Ow ow ow!” she protested softly.

Bobby looked up at her.  “Sorry, cher,” he said, “we’ve got to get it cleaned out.”  Gently he grasped the back of her calf and raised her leg, wiping away the streaks of blood.

Maggie stared at him, scarcely breathing.  There was something electric about his touch, so strong yet so tender.

He finished cleaning her shin and returned to her knee, carefully placing a large bandage over the scrape.  “There you are, good as new.  Well, almost,” he smiled.

He took the shoe and heel from her.  “I really can fix this for you.  I’d just have to find my tools,” he nodded his head toward the other room.  “I should really unpack anyway,” he smiled ruefully.

Maggie rose from the bench and stood lopsided on one heel.  “I don’t want to be more trouble than I’ve already been.”

            Something tells me that you’re all kinds of trouble, cher.  “It’s no trouble.  Besides, I’d be worried about you limping along like Quasimodo on your way home,” he laughed.

She laughed, too.  “Well, alright then.  Thank you.  And thanks for…”  She glanced down at her knee.

“It’s my pleasure, cher,” he said quietly.

Maggie felt as though suddenly all the air had gone out of the room.  She stared up into his amazing blue eyes.  She opened her mouth but no words came out.

He spoke.  “Just stop by when you’re finished at Michael’s.  If I have to leave before that, I’ll bring you your shoe.”

Running Rogue is available at books2read.com/RunningRogue.

Or get the whole trilogy in one boxed set: books2read.com/RannigansRedemption

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Weekend Excerpt–Lost & Bound

Lost & Bound, my new contemporary erotic romance novel, is launching in January.  The manuscript is currently with the proofreader and the cover design is being finalized as we speak.  You’ll be able to see the cover reveal right here very soon.

But to tide you over, here’s a sexy little teaser to whet your appetite.

Young Couple In Love On Black Background

When the power went out, Blake wasn’t surprised in the least.  If anything, he was surprised it had lasted as long as it had.  This was undoubtedly the worst storm so far in what had been a very dry summer.  Angry lightning streaked across the dark sky, with thunder booming almost instantaneously.  For microseconds, the flashes illuminated the entire lake like mid-day.

He slid open the sheer drapes that shrouded the glass doors overlooking the lake and settled in, book in one hand, a second bottle of Lebatt Blue in the other.  Leaning back, he rested his feet on the battered leather ottoman, content for the moment to watch the storm’s fury.

His eyes moved to the dark shape in the middle of the lake.  He knew from experience that a wild storm like this one was a dicey proposition in the tiny island cabin.  For one thing, because it was situated on the crest of the island, the wind howled mercilessly around the structure.  And being on the highest point, with thirty-foot pines towering over it, the cabin was a natural lightning rod.  The thunder would be deafening.

He wondered how Shasta was faring.  As he watched, another jagged bolt etched a path across the sky.  He chuckled lightly, picturing her, eyes wide, with the covers pulled up over her head.

               I should check on her first thing in the morning.

Eventually, he lit the oil lamp beside him and began to read.  Bear paced anxiously back and forth in front of the huge window.  He’d never been a fan of storms, not since he’d been a pup.  Suddenly the dog stopped pacing and whimpered softly.

“What’s wrong, boy?  You’re okay, it’s just a summer storm.”

Bear whimpered again and woofed softly.  Frowning, Blake set down the book and stood beside the dog, looking out into the stormy night.  “What is it?  Is something out there?”

Then he saw it.  A tiny point of light between him and the island.  It bounced and tossed as it…

Blake shook his head.  “No way.  No way is she in a boat in the middle of this storm.”

In the next instant, lightning flashed and he saw her clearly, Shasta, huddled against the wind and rain, steering the tiny skiff toward the lodge’s dock.  She was battling against the ferocious gusts of wind and white-capped waves on the lake that threatened to capsize the boat.

“Son of a bitch!” Blake growled.  “No more sense than a…”  He threw on his boots and shrugged into his rain slicker, pausing to don his headlamp before pulling up the hood.  “Son of a bitch!”

He kept his eyes on Shasta as he stalked out to the dock, crossing to the end to wait for her.  When she was close enough, he held out an old wooden oar and she grasped the end of it, allowing him to pull her the rest of the way to the side of the dock.  Blake reached down to cut the motor and grasped her by the upper arms, pulling her out of the boat.

She stood in front of him, eyes wide with terror and she was soaked to the skin, not having bothered with a rain coat.  He shouted above the storm.  “God-dammit, Shasta, what the hell were you thinking?”

She just blinked up at him, shaking either from fear or cold, or both.  “Come on, let’s get you inside.”  He easily scooped her up in his arms and she buried herself against his chest.

Blake was shaking too, but it was from anger.  She’d recklessly endangered herself.  If he hadn’t seen her, if the boat had swamped…  It was beyond his comprehension.  He carried her straight into his cabin, kicking the door closed behind them.  He set her down in the kitchen and stepped back.

“Explain yourself.”  He crossed his arms and watched her expectantly.

Shasta stood shaking, her red hair plastered to her head, her soaked white camisole completely sheer, her pink pajamas clinging to her legs.  She crossed her arms, too, but the gesture was self-protective rather than angry.  It only served to push up her breasts, punctuated by hard-tipped nipples, made harder by being cold and wet.  He worked to ignore them, trying to understand what she’d been thinking.

“Well?”

“I…” she stammered, “I was so scared.”  She was shivering constantly now, and a trickle of blood ran down the side of her face.

Blake lifted her chin gently.  “What happened?  Why are you bleeding?”

Her head shook slightly.  “I don’t…” her teeth chattered, “I don’t know.”

Peering closely, he saw a cut at the hairline above her right temple.  Swiping the hair back, he spied a sliver of glass and carefully removed it.  “Come with me,” he commanded.

She followed him through the living room as he picked up the oil lamp and carried it into the bathroom, where he lifted her up and sat her on the counter.  The cut on her head had begun bleeding in earnest when the glass had been removed.  Blake used a gauze pad to apply direct pressure on the cut.  Shasta sniffled softly as tears ran down her face.

“What’s wrong?” he growled.

“You called me Shasta,” she sobbed.

He snorted.  “What you did was a very ‘Shasta’ thing to do.  That’s the least of your worries right now.  Hold this.”  He moved her hand to hold the gauze in place and he reached around to turn on faucet in the bathtub.

She sat shivering, watching the tub fill with hot water.  Clouds of steam filled the room.  He left for a moment, returning with a flannel shirt of dark red plaid, which he hung on a hook on the back of the door.  Next he turned off the water.

“Let me see how it’s doing,” he murmured, carefully peering under the gauze.  The bleeding had slowed.  He took a bandage from the medicine cabinet and applied it over the cut.  Shasta was still shaking like a leaf.

“You’re almost hypothermic.  I want you in the tub.  Strip.”

Shasta blinked up at him.

“Don’t make me tell you twice.”  His voice was quietly intense as he lifted her off the counter and stood her in the middle of the floor.

Shakily, she pulled the camisole over her head, dropping it to the floor.  Blake watched unblinkingly, a hard expression on his face.  She hooked her thumbs into the top of her pants and slid them, panties and all, down her legs.  She nearly tripped stepping out of them, and Blake reached to steady her.

Naked, she stood trembling as he devoured her with his eyes, starting with her perfect round tits and their tight pink points, her narrow waist and the flair of her hips, the bare cleft at the junction where her legs met.  After all, she’d been on display on the dock, surely she wasn’t shy now.  He knew he was being an ass and he didn’t care.  Anger still thrummed through his veins.

“Get in the tub.  I’ll set a timer for fifteen minutes.  After that, the water will cool off too much to help.”  He disappeared, returning moments later with a kitchen timer which he set on the bathroom counter.

“Why aren’t you in the tub?  Was I unclear in some way?” he snapped.

Shasta touched the wall for stability as she dipped one foot into the tub.  “It’s hot.”

“It’s supposed to be hot.  We have to warm you up.”  He watched her step in with the other foot and ease herself down.  She looked like a drowned rat, peering up at him all wide-eyed.

“When the timer goes off, get out and dry yourself.  You can put this on,” he indicated the flannel shirt he’d hung on the door.  “You will go into the bedroom and sit on the edge of my bed.  You will wait until I come back.  Is that clear?”

Shasta nodded silently.

“I said sit.  You will not lie down, you will not get into the bed.  You will sit.  If you’re cold, there’s a blanket you can use to wrap around yourself.  Do you understand?”

Again, she nodded.  A look of annoyance crossed his face, and then passed.  He nodded sharply.  “I’ll be back.”  He closed the bathroom door behind him and she heard him speak to Bear.  “Stay here, boy, keep an eye on her.  I need to think.”

Lost & Bound is part of my Dream Dominant Collection.  It features a light BDSM theme with a DD/lg relationship, and it’s intended for mature audiences.  Keep watching here for the latest on the cover reveal and release day.

In the meantime, check out my other books on my Amazon Author page.

This!

I know what a lucky girl I am.  I am fully aware.  Having lived my hell in my twenties and thirties, I know what heaven is.

Today I saw this article on Facebook.  WordPress being what it is, I can’t share it in the way I’d like.  So I’m copying and pasting the poem, BUT be sure to click this LINK and check out the entire article via Sarah Harvey on Elephant Journal.

Nuances Of The Flesh

This Is The Kind Of Man You Deserve

There is nothing sexier than a man

Who knows how to traverse the juicy pathways of his own heart

A man who can stand to be called out on his sh*t

A man who, when you boldly ask him to be there,

Says yes—hell yes

And shows up beautifully,

With every ounce of his beating heart.

 

There is nothing more beautiful than a man

Who talks openly and passionately about what’s on his mind

Rather than pulling far away and glossing it over

With a bullish*t generic response of

“I’m fine.”

 

There is nothing more breathtaking in the world than a man

Who knows the salty taste of tears

A man who lets you see him on his worst days

Stripped

Sad

And raw—

Vulnerability hanging out of his split-open heart like ripped ribbons.

 

There is nothing more bone-suckin’ delicious than a man

Who knows how to take care of a woman,

How to touch her softly and fiercely at the same time

How to f*ck her wildly while gazing gently into the sapphire depths of her soul

How to set her free while claiming her

And make her feel like a cherished jewel of divinity,

Like the goddess she is.

 

There is absolutely nothing more astounding than a man

Who kisses like he could die five minutes from now

A man who understands the gem preciousness of this breath

This inhale…and exhale…

A man who wants nothing more

Than to face the world together

As you both smile,

Breathe

Set the air around you on delicate fire

Transcend bullsh*t

And ascend towards nectar galaxies far too beautiful to comprehend.

 

There is nothing more maddeningly magnificent than a man

Who pulls you close and declares his love for you

And shouts it from the rooftops like music

And weaves his fingers through yours with ripe enthusiasm

And isn’t scared to call you too soon

And call you out on your sh*t

And call you

The luscious love of

His life.

 

There is nothing more goddamn gorgeous than a man

Who is fiercely himself

Who holds the strongest heart space

In his warm, sultry embrace

For you to bloom

Blossom

Flourish

And soar

As he does the same.

 

At the end of every dissolving sands, apricot sunset-soaked day—there is nothing sexier than a man

Who knows how to love himself.

A man who values the truth running through his veins like sacred ink.

A man brave enough to be there for you—and himself—when sh*t is beautiful and when it’s completely falling apart.

This is the kind of man you deserve.

A man who isn’t afraid of emotion.

A man who shows up one hundred percent.

A man who is ready—who craves—every drop, drip and ounce of an authentic, earthy goddess of a wonderful woman like you.

 

Let him kiss you with his entire being until you remember who you really are.

Don’t settle down with him—

Settle up

Into a more luscious, technicolor life

A life so beautiful it hurts sometimes.

A life so fulfilling you’ll never be thirsty again.

A life so freeing and spun of soul it makes you dizzy.

Anything less than this

Heartfelt, present, purely sacred beauty

Is a goddamn

Tragedy.

Don’t settle

Down—

Settle up.

‘Cause when the divine masculine meets the divine feminine, magic happens.

The sweetest magic of all.

Are you ready for it?