Weekend Excerpt–Sneak Peek at Redheads & Ranchers

My current WIP is actually a three-book series called Redheads & Ranchers.  The stand-alone novels will be connected in that they’re about hot ranchers and the redheads they can’t resist.

The first book is called RESCUED BY THE RANCHER.

Earlier this week, I posted this brand new teaser in my Facebook group, Pandora’s Passionista Paradise.   Want to see new stuff before anybody else?  Click the name to join us!

Here’s the new teaser…

Cole felt a familiar sense of relief settle over him as he locked the gate behind the horse trailer and climbed back into the cab of the truck. Arriving home at the ranch where he’d grown up, locking out the world at large, always gave him a feeling of peace.

It was home. He couldn’t put it more simply than that. It was where he’d spent his entire life, with the exception of the time he spent in the Marines. Following a year in Afghanistan, he’d worked out the remainder of his enlistment in Bridgeport, where he’d trained horses and soldiers for combat missions. He’d been thrilled to be back in the saddle, and the fact that home was a short couple of hours away had been the cherry on top.

When his enlistment had ended, he’d returned to the ranch and built his reputation as an in-demand horse trainer. Happy that Cole was back in the fold, his parents had sold some stocks and retired to Santa Fe, leaving him in charge of the ranch. His older sister Beth had been more than happy with that turn of events. As much as she’d loved growing up in the country, she was far happier living in San Francisco and pursuing a career in law enforcement.

Cole pulled up in front of the white barn, put the truck in park, and turned off the ignition. He climbed down and closed the door, heading to the back of the trailer.

“Here we are, Dahlia. We’ll get you all brushed, then we’ll put you in your new stall. Your supper’s already there.” As the sun slid lower in the sky, Cole sighed, glad he’d thought ahead to prepare the stall early that morning before heading west to Carmel Valley. He was tired, and ready to be home.

He unlocked the tailgate and lowered it, starting to step inside when he froze. Someone was crouched down in the front of the trailer. Instantly, his senses snapped to high alert.

With two determined strides, he covered the distance between himself and the stranger, who was completely covered in his own black hoodie. “What the hell are you doing in my trailer?” he growled, reaching to grasp the front of the jacket and lift the person off the floor, pressing whoever it was hard against the wall of the trailer.

He heard a soft gasp as he used his free hand to whip off the hood, revealing a young woman, her red hair matted down from the hood, her face swollen and bruised. One eye was completely swollen shut, while the other, the most piercing shade of green, stared back at him in stark terror.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, gently setting her down on what he realized were bare feet. “Are you okay? How did you get in here?”

The woman just stared at him in silence, her battered mouth gaping in a silent scream.

Frustrated, Cole lifted his hat and ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I was just startled, is all.” Glancing down, he saw that his jacket extended to the middle of her thighs, and her legs were as bare as her feet. Fleetingly, he wondered if she was dressed at all.

He reached toward her and she flinched, gasping again. “Easy now,” he murmured, “I’m not going to hurt you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and felt her quaking, whether from the chill of the late March afternoon, or from fear, he couldn’t say.

“Are you okay?” He leaned down, searching her good eye for some sign of communication. She just stood shaking.

Cole blew out an exasperated breath. “Okay, I have to get this horse settled. After that, we can try to sort things out. As long as you’re okay. Are you hurt anywhere besides your face?”

Her swelled lips were closed now, and she trembled violently, but she made no effort to respond to him.

“Fuck it,” he breathed. “We’re going to put you in the truck,” he told her. “We’ll turn on the heat and get you warmed up while I take care of Dahlia, here.”

Carefully, with an arm around her waist and his other hand on her shoulder, he guided her out of the trailer and to the passenger door of the truck’s cab. He opened the door and lifted her onto the seat. She was so light, like a little bird or something, he mused.

Hurrying around to the driver’s side, he started the truck and turned the heat on full blast. Then he looked back to her.

“Are you thirsty? Can I get you some water?” He reached into the small cooler he’d put behind his seat and pulled out a bottled water. When he held it out to her, she snatched at it, using shaky hands to try to open it. She couldn’t manage it so he took it, unscrewing the cap and handing it back to her. Shakily, with both hands she lifted the bottle to her lips and drank greedily, spilling some down the front of herself. She’d drained the bottle in no time, and Cole handed her a second one after he’d loosened the cap for her. She fixed him with her bright green eye and nodded in thanks.

He nodded, too. “Okay, you stay here and get warm. I’ll take care of the horses, then we can go to the house and figure things out.”

He closed the door and headed back to get Dahlia out of the trailer, but his mind was racing. Who is she? What happened to her? How did she get into the trailer?

He led Dahlia to an empty stall between two other horses. She offered light resistance until she was inside, where she stood still long enough for him to remove the rope halter. He spoke soothingly to the horse as he offered her a bucket of feed.

From inside the barn, Cole could see the young woman in the truck. She’d pulled the hood back up, and she stared straight ahead, sipping the water. From his vantage point, he saw the right, unbattered side of her face. Apparently, she’d been beaten by someone who was right-handed.
Beaten. The idea of someone laying hands on this woman made his blood boil. He took a deep breath and tried to consider the situation logically.

Clearly, she’s been assaulted. By? Cole shrugged. Her husband? A boyfriend?
He chewed on that idea for a moment. A domestic abuse situation makes sense. So when did she get into the trailer?

Hanging buckets of feed in the other stalls, he considered the question. I stopped twice after leaving Meredith and Carmel Valley. Once for lunch. The other time, for gas about half an hour before we got back to the ranch.

He shook his head. When I stopped for gas, I paid at the pump. I never left the truck. It had to have been at the truck stop.

He rubbed a hand across his mouth and looked back toward the truck. The woman was resting her head against the passenger window.

He distributed fresh hay into each stall, running the scenario in his mind. She was beaten, and she ran away. He thought of her bare feet. So fast, she didn’t even bother with shoes. She was in a hurry to get away, so she climbed into the horse trailer, hoping to be taken away from the person hurting her.

Putting away the wheelbarrow, he glanced back at the woman in the truck. So now what?

I’m hoping RESCUED BY THE RANCHER will be out before the end of the year, with books 2 and 3 to follow.

In the meantime, have you read the Dream Dominant Collection?  It’s a series of four stand-alone novels featuring a light BDSM theme–hot Alpha males and the sassy subs they can’t resist.

Start with LUKE & BELLA, Dream Dominant Book 1,
available at your favorite online bookseller.
books2read.com/LukeAndBella1

Weekend Excerpt–FOR SPARROW

Now that I have your attention…  😉

FOR SPARROW, Dream Dominant Book 3, is the 2018 Golden Flogger Award WINNER for Best BDSM Book (BDSM Light).  I love saying that, LOL!

Judd Farris, the hero of the story is a hot Dominant firefighter paramedic.  But do you wonder why I made him a first responder?

A few years ago, Mr. Spocks and I were invited to a quinceañera for the daughter of a friend.  We had a great time, and as we were leaving, we stopped just outside the event hall to chat with some friends.

While we were standing there, a little old lady missed the curb and tripped and fell on the concrete driveway.  Mere minutes later, a West Palm Beach fire rescue truck pulled up and out jumped the hottest guys you ever saw.  All I could think was, Holy cow, do they only hire male models?  

Don’t worry, the lady was okay, she was just a little banged up.  But that was when I decided that Judd was a paramedic.  And that incident became a scene in the story.

Here’s a brand-new teaser from award-winning FOR SPARROW.

Following the dinner service, the music came up and teens crowded the dancefloor.  Jessi went to the kitchen to compliment the smooth service and give everyone a short break.  The birthday girl wasn’t scheduled to cut the cake for another half hour.

Sarah was organizing the cake area, making sure that plates and flatware were ready.  Jessi gave her a nod, and headed out the front door to catch a breath of fresh air.

The night was warm but there was a gentle breeze stirring.  A few guests were chatting together on the front sidewalk, and Jessi wandered a few yards further away.  She gazed up and wondered at the mostly full moon and the handful of stars overhead.  Happy that the night was going well, she sighed contentedly.

Maybe we’ll get a couple of referrals before the night is over. 

Jessi watched as a couple returned to the party, holding the door open for a pair of older ladies who appeared to be leaving.  She had just decided it was time for her to go back inside when everything suddenly shifted into slow motion.  One of the ladies missed the step off the curb and went down hard on the asphalt, her head striking the driveway with a thud.

Without hesitating, Jessi ran toward the fallen woman, leaning over her.  “Ma’am, are you alright?”

The woman moaned weakly as her friend stood wringing her hands and whimpering softly.  Jessi turned to a man who’d just come out the door.  “Call 911!  Hurry!”  She knelt beside the woman and bent down to look at her face.  The woman had definitely hit her head, Jessi had seen it happen.  Now a large knot was forming on the woman’s forehead.

“It’s okay, ma’am, it’s going to be alright.”  The woman tried to sit up but Jessi stopped her.  “Just be still, help is on the way.  We don’t want you to hurt yourself further.”

Jessi held the older woman’s hand as the mother of the birthday girl came outside.

“What’s going on?  Tia, what happened?”

Ai, mija, your tia fell off the curb,” the other older woman said.

Jessi smiled reassuringly.  “I think she’ll be okay.  Help is on the way.  Maybe you can both go back inside and relax.  I’ll come and let you know what’s happening.”

Si, tia, you look pale.  Come and sit down.  I’ll come back out and stay with her,” the mother said.  She escorted her aunt inside, and quickly returned.  A small crowd started to gather on the front sidewalk.

“Maybe we could get a bag of ice,” Jessi suggested, and a guest raced into the building, soon returning to hand Jessi a small plastic bag of ice.  She leaned over and as she gently pressed the ice to the growing knot, the woman moaned again.  “It’s alright, hon, help is on the way.”

Even as she said the words, she saw the flashing lights of a bright red fire/rescue truck pulling into the parking lot.  “Oh, thank God,” she murmured.

The truck pulled to a stop, and Jessi heard feet scrambling on the pavement and vehicle doors being opened and shut.  She kept her eyes on the older lady who seemed to fade in and out of consciousness.  “They’re here, it’s going to be okay.”

“What happened here?”

Jessi’s head jerked up at the familiar voice.  Judd stood beside the truck dressed in his uniform navy pants and a grey fire/rescue polo that gloved his muscular shoulders.  Before she could formulate her thoughts, he spoke.

“Jessi?”

“Hi, Judd,” she said shyly.  “I saw the whole thing.  She missed the step off the curb and fell pretty hard.  I saw her head hit the pavement.  I kept her still and we’ve put ice on the lump.”

Judd nodded.  “Okay, thanks, we’ll see what we can do.  Hello, dear, I’m Judd.  It looks like you took quite a spill.  Let me just take a look at your head.”  Another man came around the truck with a box of equipment.

Jessi backed away from them as they went to work checking the woman’s vitals and speaking into their radios.  Sarah came out and stood by Jessi.  “I heard we had an accident.  How is it going?”

“I don’t know,” Jessi shrugged.  “It was pretty scary to watch, I’ll tell you.  We’ll wait and see what they say.”

“Tell you what, I’m going to get the cake going and hopefully most of these people will go back inside.  You don’t need an audience out here,” Sarah said.  She turned to the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the guest of honor will be cutting the cake in just a minute.  Come on inside so we can sing to her.”  Thankfully, most of the onlookers followed Sarah inside.

One woman, a relative of the injured woman, stayed.  “Tia, let them do their job,” she said as the older woman insisted on sitting up.

Ai, dios mio,” she exclaimed.  “I’m just a silly old woman who didn’t watch where she was going.  I’m fine.  I want to go back to the party.”

Judd, noticing the worried look on Jessi’s face, gave her a quick wink.  “I’d feel more comfortable if you’d let us take you to the hospital and have the doctors take a look at you, dear.  That was quite a fall.”

“No,” she said defiantly, “I want to go inside.”

Judd looked at his partner and shook his head.  The other paramedic spoke softly to the woman in Spanish, but she remained determined to stay at the party.

“We can’t make you go,” Judd sighed.  “If you’re staying here, someone needs to keep an eye on you.  If you have a concussion, there could be problems later on.”

Si, I’ll watch her,” said the woman who’d stayed outside with Jessi.  “Come on, tia, let’s get you back to your seat.”

Jessi watched as the younger woman helped her aunt back inside the building.  Then she turned to Judd.  “I’m so sorry you came out here for nothing.”

He smiled his patently kind Judd smile.  “It wasn’t for nothing, that lady really hurt herself.  I wish she’d let us take her in, but older folks can be stubborn sometimes.”  He looked to the other man.  “Jessi, this is my partner Alex Gomez.  Gomez, this is Jessi Crenshaw.”

Alex flashed a bright white smile.  “Nice to meet you, Jessi.”  He was dressed in the same uniform as Judd, but he was a bit shorter, with wavy black hair and sparkling brown eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.  You know, since you don’t have to make the run to the hospital, do you have time to come inside?  The birthday girl should have just cut the cake.”

“How could we say no to birthday cake?” Alex laughed, slapping Judd on the back.  “You’ve been holding out on me, Farris,” he said under his breath as they followed Jessi into the party.

FB image Golden Flogger

FOR SPARROW is available at your favorite online bookseller.
books2read.com/ForSparrow

Facebook, You’re Killing Me

I should be writing.  I should.

WARRIOR MINE is successfully launched into the world.  I’m close to 30k words into the next book.

But right now, all I can think about is that Facebook has locked me out of my author account, with no indication when (or IF) it will be reinstated.

When I logged on yesterday, citing ‘security concerns’, they requested that I submit a photo, which I did.  Now, I’m still waiting.  I can’t communicate with my readers or my author colleagues.  I can’t post to my author page.  I can’t chat with my street team or my book club.  I can’t even use Messenger.

Somewhere out there, a ‘bad actor’ with nefarious intent regarding the 2018 US mid-term election is laughing his ass off.

Weekend Excerpt–Unintentional Work In Progress

With my newest book Chasing Ordinary officially launched and doing well, I’ve started my next one, the fourth Dream Dominant tentatively called Warrior Mine.  It’s a spin-off from Lost & Bound, and already 20k words in, I’m getting excited about this book.  It’s the story of Blake’s friend Scott, and his romance with Blake’s sister, Jackie.

I don’t own these images, they’re from Pinterest, but they’re from my Warrior Mine board.  Follow me there to get insight into my inspirations for my stories.

But…

For the last week or so, I’ve had a different story in my mind that I just can’t let go of, so I’ve begun writing a new story I’m calling Voices for now.  I added it to my Teasers tab, but for some reason it doesn’t show up.  I thought I’d share the first chapter.

RUN!  Every fiber of her being screamed at her, willing her to shake off the fog that veiled her mind, willing her to save herself. 

bigstock--209735947 Jenny Danvers shakily pushed herself into a sitting position in the back seat of the black SUV, ignoring the pulsing of her swollen left eye, trying desperately to focus with her right one as she peered through the dark-tinted windows.

Her minders, Slater and Wilcox (she had no idea of their first names, nor did she care to know) had left her in the back seat of the SUV when they’d gone into the truck stop for a bite to eat.  They’d assumed she was unconscious, which she had been, momentarily knocked out by Slater’s right jab to the right side of her face.

This after backhanding her across the mouth.  Tentatively, she pushed her tongue toward her puffy lip, her mouth filled with the harsh metallic tang of her own blood.  Her teeth seemed to be intact, no thanks to Slater’s meaty blow.

All because she’d fought him.  And she’d do it again.  Every time.

She might have no say when it came to Victor Sorkin, when he summoned her in the middle of the odd night, or when he gifted her to certain esteemed business associates.  But she’d be goddamned if she’d allow Victor’s slimy minions to presume to take their fill of her.

The trio been on their way from Los Angeles to San Francisco.  An arms dealer with whom Victor wanted to do business was staying at the Four Seasons.  Jenny was meant to be a good-will offering for the weekend.

Currently, she had a bigger problem, though.

“Now what are you going to do?” Wilcox had whined.  Jenny, her head pounding, had feigned unconsciousness.

“She’s all beat up.  We can’t take her to San Francisco like that.  And we can’t take her back to Mr. Sorkin, either.  He’ll want to know what happened.”

“She’s not going to tell him anything,” Slater had snarled.

“But what will you tell him?” Wilcox had wondered.

Slater had growled and punched the dashboard.  “Stupid retard cunt!  Kicked me in the balls so hard, I still can’t breathe right.”

“What are we going to do?”

Squinting through her good eye, Jenny had seen Slater turn to look at her.  “We’ll have to kill her.”

“We?!  What the hell are you talking about?  I didn’t touch her,” Wilcox had squeaked.

“What happens if we take her to San Francisco?  Hauer calls Sorkin to complain about the merchandise.  And Sorkin kills us.” 

He’d glared at Wilcox, daring him to contradict him.  “What happens if we take her back to LA like that?  Sorkin kills us.” 

He’d shaken his head.  “It’s the only way.  We drive all the way to San Francisco.  Because he’ll be tracking us on GPS.  We stay in front of the hotel long enough to have taken her upstairs.  Then we go to our hotel.  We’ll rent a car, take her out into the boondocks, and get rid of her.”

“But Hauer will call to complain that she never got there,” Wilcox had reasoned.

“We’ll say he’s lying.  We’ll say we delivered the girl.  Then it’s all on Hauer.”

Wilcox had nodded slowly.  “It might just work.”

“Come on,” Slater had said, with one last glance into the backseat.  “Let’s go get something to eat and work out the details.  The bitch is out cold anyway.”

After the pair had left, Jenny had forced herself to remain motionless, counting to a thousand before opening her eyes.  By now, her left eye was swelled completely shut, and her lip felt as though it was ten times its normal size.

She had to get out.  They’d be back any minute.  If she rode with them to San Francisco, there would be no escape.  This was her only chance.  She supposed she should count her lucky stars Victor had decided for them to drive rather than fly.

The cloudy day threatened rain, but so far, the day had been dry.  With the midday sun obscured by clouds as it was, Jenny wasn’t certain of the time, but she’d guess early afternoon.  The truck stop was busy, with semis and all sorts of vehicles entering and leaving constantly.

Across the lot, she saw a cowboy in a straw hat checking on a horse in a vintage turquoise and white horse trailer pulled behind a silver pick-up truck.  Seemingly satisfied with the horse’s well-being, he turned and walked across the lot, passing her as she watched from the SUV, and headed inside the restaurant.

GO! her brain screamed at her.

She looked down at herself.  She was not dressed for walking around a truck stop.  In her slinky club dress with its halter top and micro-mini skirt, she was more suited for the function she was expected to perform.

Not any more, Victor.  She kicked off the silver stilettos and glanced toward the restaurant.  She couldn’t see Slater or Wilcox in the window booths.  It seemed safe to assume they were seated further inside.

Carefully, she opened the door and stepped barefoot onto the pavement.  The day was cool, and she instantly felt chilled.  She closed the door quietly, and head down, she moved in the direction of the horse trailer.

Once she got there, she looked around the parking lot.  Everyone seemed to be preoccupied with their own business.  On her tiptoes, she peered into the trailer.  Only one of the two stalls was occupied.  She tried the tailgate hopefully, but it was locked.  Glancing around again, she saw that the lot was briefly empty of people.  She stepped up onto the bumper, reached the top of the tailgate, and pushed herself up.  With one last glance over her shoulder, she leaned forward, tumbling headfirst into the trailer.

The horse, a large brown and white spotted Appaloosa, whinnied in protest, stomping her feet and pulling at the rope tethering her to the front of the trailer.

Carefully avoiding the stomping hooves, Jenny crab-scrambled backwards to the front wall of the trailer.  A large black jacket hung from a hook, and she jerked it down, slipping it on and zipping up the front.

The jacket was huge, probably meant for someone the size of the cowboy she’d seen, but it was warm.  She tucked her knees under her chin and pulled the jacket down over her bare legs and feet, pulling the hood over her head.

Come on, come on.  She willed her heart to stop pounding as she waited for the cowboy to come back and drive them away from the truck stop.

So apparently, I’m currently writing two books, LOL!

Chasing Ordinary, and my other books, including Lost & Bound,
are available at my
Amazon Author Page.

Weekend Excerpt–Finding Callie

Happy Weekend!  Is it me, or is the summer seeming to fly by?  How can it be August already?  I’m still hard at work on FOR SPARROW, which will be the third book in the Dream Dominant Collection.  Sexy and talented author (and fellow Wicked Pen) Linzi Basset is hard at work on the cover, and she may or may not have another couple of surprises up her sleeve.  Stay tuned here for more new about that.

callie

For this weekend’s excerpt, I’m sharing another snippet from the Teasers tab on my website.  Tentatively titled FINDING CALLIE, this story idea comes from experiences I had some years ago when I had the chance to travel to France and Spain for a couple of weeks.

Here’s the first chapter…

Standing in line at the post office has to be the fourth circle of hell

Callie shifted her weight to her left foot and leaned her hip against the railing around which the line of fellow postal customers snaked.  Look, only three more back-and-forths then it’s my turn, she thought sardonically. 

She frowned to herself.  Whose inner monologue is sardonic?

     “Next,” called the clerk at the second station.  Everyone in line took a step forward clutching their parcels all wrapped in brown paper and packing-taped into infinity, or their very important looking overnight-air envelopes. 
Callie glanced down at the peach square of paper in her hands.  We REdeliver for you! the paper promised.  She shook her head.  She wasn’t waiting for redelivery.
     Another clerk called out and the line shifted again.  A sextet of antique ceiling fans whirled ineffectively over their heads as a bead of sweat trickled down her spine.  She wondered if the air conditioning was out or if the USPS was simply economizing.  Either way, you could tell it was summer in south Florida.
     She made it to the turn-around and felt a bit encouraged.  Not much longer now.  She gazed at the receipt once again, her forefinger lightly tracing the address of the sender.  Sevilla.  She inhaled sharply.  She knew one person in Seville.  She couldn’t imagine what he’d sent in a parcel.
Raised voices interrupted Callie’s thoughts.  She looked up to see a well-dressed middle-aged woman shouting at the clerk at the third station.   
    
     “What do you mean, I have to get in a different line?  I’ve been standing here all day!”
     “Ma’am, I don’t have the form that you need.  Would you like to get in the other line?” the clerk asked patiently.  The man was an older black gentleman with sloping shoulders and an air of resignation.  Callie idly wondered if he’d delivered mail on foot back in the day.
     “Well if you won’t give me the form I guess I’ll have to!” the woman snapped as she vacated the station and toddled off to the the correct line. 
     Callie shook her head.  Why do people have to be such assholes?  She ran into her fair share of them as a teacher but she recalled her college days when she’d worked as a server in a busy restaurant.  People have no idea…
     She found herself suddenly only two people behind the head of the line, and she felt her heart begin to pound.  Finn.  She looked back at the peach scrap of paper.  After all this time.
     In truth she was shocked that he’d sent anything at all.  She’d known him for all of what, fifteen days?  The flush began in the center of her being and flowed up her neck to her cheeks.  Those fifteen days had changed her irrevocably.  She could never go back to the pre-Finn Callie.
     Vaguely she heard a clerk call for the next customer.  “Excuse me, ma’am?” said the guy behind her.  Callie looked up, startled.  “You’re next.”

     She murmured an apology and walked to the vacant station.  The same clerk who’d had the misfortune to deal with the nasty customer surveyed her with gentle eyes.  Callie was determined to be kind, to make up for the woman who’d been so unpleasant.  She smiled broadly.  “Yes, I’m picking up a parcel.”  She presented him with the peach scrap and her driver’s license.

     The man smiled kindly as he took the slip of paper and disappeared into the back.  He reemerged moments later carrying a package about the size and shape of a hardcover book.  Callie’s pulse pounded in her ears.
     “Here you are, ma’am,” he said as he handed her the box.  It was lighter than she’d expected.  Her eyes zeroed in on the return address.  Finn Cooper, 54 Calle Montevideo, Sevilla, Espana. 
     She smiled again and thanked the man, wished him a pleasant day, and walked out into the heat of the summer day.
I hope you liked this little teaser.  FINDING CALLIE joins a long list of stories I’ll eventually get to.   In the meantime, browse my Amazon Author Page for your next steamy read.

It’s Going to Be HOT in Tampa!

 

Looking for your next great read?  Love to have fun in the sun?  Join me this Sunday, July 16, in Tampa for the Tampa Indie Author Book Convention!

I understand that about 40 Indie authors will be there, chatting with readers and signing books.  I’ll have copies of RESISTING RISK, LUKE & BELLA, and LOST & BOUND.  I’ll also have some free swag.

Admission to the event is FREE, and you can buy tickets to the VIP after party where there will be food and an OPEN BAR.  Just imagine, sipping cocktails and chatting with your favorite Indie authors.  Sounds amazing, right?

Check out the official Facebook page of the Tampa Indie Author Book Convention.  And if you’re going to be anywhere close, please stop by and say hello!

How to Have a RED HOT #4thofJuly !

I know.  You have plans.  Cook-outs, beach outings, family gatherings, and fireworks.  But you’re going to want to squeeze in a little ‘Me Time’.  Because the Wicked Pens and KinkCrate are partnering up to give you a Fire Hot Fourth.

Check it out.

That’s right.  From 3:00-4:00pm EDT, Wicked Pen authors are having a panel discussion on adding heat to your romance.  We’ll be discussing a variety of steamy topics, and we’ll be answering your questions.

Plus, one lucky attendee will walk away with a couple of kinky prizes: their very own ball gag and flogger, courtesy of KinkCrate.

In order to attend, you must be a member of the Wicked Pens Facebook group, so hurry on over and sign up so you can join us for a hot, sizzling 4th of July.