INTO THE BLACK |
Well, that's a bit dramatic but it's still a fact. Facebook suspended my Incy Black account and insisted I provide my 'legal' name with a demand for evidence (passport ID etc), with which I duly complied to unlock my account. Hence, I'm now forced to comment as Lindsey Hughes, something I view as a gross violation of the right to be who I want to be. My friends know me as Incy Black. That is who I am. On-LIne. Off-line, I am known as Mum/Mummy/Ma by my children, and Lindsey Hughes by employers. Neither party necessarily wishes to be associated with Incy Black or the books I write, anymore than they would wish to know my cup size or colour of my knickers. I did not adopt a pen name for want of secrecy but more out of respect... A little distance can be healthy, not for me, but for them. I write about sick-freak killers, hot heroes (with questionable morals) who bed feisty heroines, I write about damaged people... Who the hell would want that as an association or endorsement? My kids certainly don't. Respect, Facebook, show a little! Monitor content not names, because it is abusive content that hurts and offends and should be guarded against, not the use of pseudonyms. You employ sufficient brain-power to track those who offend back to their 'legal' identity, so write an algorithm for that and sanction accordingly, rather than stooping to bullying under the guise of 'integrity'. Incidentally, I see little integrity in making your complaint procedure so damn difficult to access. Provide a email which it doesn't take 20 minutes to find...and respond. Please, please respond! I don't have any objection to you leveraging ad revenue, Facebook, we all have to make a living, but let's not kid ourselves as to who is the bigger pretender here. You or me. A good number of writers/authors could be caught in this identity net but don't panic yet. Think of the fun we shall have when we hold a Facebook party to celebrate our outing. Final score in the integrity stakes.... FACEBOOK: 0 INDIVIDUALS: (Sorry, no one can count that high) And this is their story On a quest to make amends for a long-ago indiscretion, Honor unexpectedly discovers the one thing she’s been missing in her life. Honor Quirk arrives in Ireland excited—and a bit anxious—about meeting up with the estranged family of her late great-grandmother. The welcome from the residents of Robinhill Farm, Dermot and Bryan, is confusing and far from comforting. One is warm, the other aggressive. The outwardly antagonistic Bryan makes it very clear he doesn't want her there, branding her a gold digger. Dermot, on the other hand, is delighted to meet her. But Honor is no pushover and stands up to Bryan, letting him know that his bad attitude and trail of baggage have nothing to do with her. Despite their confrontational and hostile relationship, an undeniable attraction to each other creeps insidiously into the house on Robinhill Farm. They both desperately try to stifle the sparks, but living under the same roof makes it impossible. Unable to cope with the turmoil of living with Bryan, Honor runs away, straight into the arms of a charming newfound friend, Sean, who offers her a home—and love. Shattered, Bryan finally takes control of his irrational belief that all women are evil, and fights to bring back the woman he loves. But is it too late? Looks like we've got a triangle of three men with one woman in the centre. |
Buy links: Secret Cravings Publishing Amazon Barnes & Noble Kobo And you can catch up with Noelle here: · Website · Twitter @noelle_clark · Amazon · Goodreads |
The divine Shehanne Moore, she who awards her colours like a queen before a joust--sparingly and immediately prior to a lance to the chest--has most graciously presented me with a ONE LOVELY BLOG award. Thank you, from a blogger of Shehanne's ilk, one who rocks blogsphere, I'm honoured. Of course, rules are part of the acceptance process:
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Seven Bold Facts
1: I won’t travel by boat (not canoe, not pedalo, not luxury liner), the mere thought of doing so, brings me out in hives. Also, I don’t do tunnels or caves. Crossing bridges sends me into near cardiac arrest.
2: Whenever journeying across this fine land we call the UK, I’m constantly on the scout for the best possible place in which to hold up come the zombie apocalypse. I’ve got my eye on Anglesey, yes, the entire island—inhabitants, please start your evacuation now—though I’m not sure how I’d get there given my aversion to bridges. (Adds TNT to survival list…that bridge must go)
2: Whenever journeying across this fine land we call the UK, I’m constantly on the scout for the best possible place in which to hold up come the zombie apocalypse. I’ve got my eye on Anglesey, yes, the entire island—inhabitants, please start your evacuation now—though I’m not sure how I’d get there given my aversion to bridges. (Adds TNT to survival list…that bridge must go)
3. One of my favourite words—which, sadly, I rarely get to use—is leviathan. Should I ever learn the fine art of shape shifting, that’s what I’m shifting into—only, as I intend to be land-based, I’ll change that to Gryphon (and I want a lion’s head, beaks are so mean looking).
4. My maiden name was Schmidt-Weichert (most called me Smith-Wicket).
5. Books I’ve written (so far) Hard to Forget and Hard to Hold, and I’m currently inking (bleeding) Hard to Chase. Yes, blatant promo—sorry.
6. One of the first 'real' stories I ever wrote—must have been about 11 years old—was about a man-servant named Surprise. All I remember is, he foolishly baked himself into a cake and then complained bitterly when he was eaten. His nose was the cherry on the top. To this day I remain scarred by the drowning in red ink I received from my teacher. The assignment required that I write about the biggest surprise in my life (so boring I refused to conform, and paid the price with a tedious re-write).
7. I don’t want to grow old gracefully. I want to grow old disgracefully.
Now, mission complete, I nominate the following bloggers:
Dilys J Carnie
JM Stewart
Tracey Rogers
Aurelia B Rowl
Noelle Clark The lovely Noelle will be guesting at Into the Black on Thursday
Susanne Bellamy
Jane Hunt
5. Books I’ve written (so far) Hard to Forget and Hard to Hold, and I’m currently inking (bleeding) Hard to Chase. Yes, blatant promo—sorry.
6. One of the first 'real' stories I ever wrote—must have been about 11 years old—was about a man-servant named Surprise. All I remember is, he foolishly baked himself into a cake and then complained bitterly when he was eaten. His nose was the cherry on the top. To this day I remain scarred by the drowning in red ink I received from my teacher. The assignment required that I write about the biggest surprise in my life (so boring I refused to conform, and paid the price with a tedious re-write).
7. I don’t want to grow old gracefully. I want to grow old disgracefully.
Now, mission complete, I nominate the following bloggers:
Dilys J Carnie
JM Stewart
Tracey Rogers
Aurelia B Rowl
Noelle Clark The lovely Noelle will be guesting at Into the Black on Thursday
Susanne Bellamy
Jane Hunt
Lips, they feature large in romantic fiction, being stared at (prelude to a kiss), licked, lapped, sucked, parted, nibbled, nipped, even bitten (during a kiss), brushed with a thumb (post kiss). As a writer of romantic suspense, I believe I even featured a pair of lips sewn together…with crimson, silk thread—not nice, and somewhat beside the point, because my raison d'être today, is to help… Introverts...survive the celebrations ahead. Those who panic at the phrase ‘ice-breaker’. Those wrought with anxiety as the festive season fast approaches. OMG, the parties, the dinners, the after-work drinks; the men, the women (eek), all assessing, guessing, judging, boring you with inane chat… How the hell do you wrest back a modicum of control, and impress? Easy, go prepared. With a few random facts on a few random subjects, to stun, engage, or at the very least, to fill those horrendously awkward hangs of silence. I’ll be covering a range of subjects over the coming weeks, but thought I’d kick start this series with LIPSTICK as a conversation grenade, to help you out… |
A few random facts about... LIPSTICK
- According to a study conducted by the University of Manchester, men will only glance at women with bare lips for an average of 2.2 seconds, whereas they will gaze at a woman wearing pink lipstick for 6.7 seconds, and positively stare at a woman to the point of entrancement (7.3 seconds) if her lips are bright red. (This is more of a what to wear pointer rather than a what-the-hell-should-I-say, hint)
- Fish scales are still used in lipstick to boost shine (A handy snippet to ward off anyone unwelcome, who looks like they are honing in for something a whole lot more touch-feely than an air kiss. More a defensive measure than a fact.)
- Though other cosmetics were rationed during WW2, lipstick was kept in full production because Winston Churchill believed it boosted moral.
- One of the world’s most expensive lipsticks is Guerlain’s KissKiss Gold and Diamonds Lipstick, which will set you back $62,000. The casing is gold and diamond encrusted and, yes, it’s refillable. (Bloody good job, at that price.
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70% of men think lipstick is sexy. (Good to know, don’t get any on their their collar, because the phrase "lipstick on his collar" is a euphemism to describe a man who is cheating on his partner.)
- The phrase "lipstick on a pig" is a euphemism for unsuccessfully attempting to make attractive something (or some idea) that is inherently unattractive. (Exercise caution when dropping this into a conversation, the person you are addressing may take it personally)
- Lipstick is thought to have been invented some 5000 years ago by Sumerian men and women who used crushed gemstones to paint their lips. (I’m guessing the poor were stuck using sand and mud)
- Sales of lipstick increase when the weather is gloomy. (Nope, that’s just an excuse to buy another stick…most women, apparently, own 20 different lipsticks. And should you wish to try making your own lipstick…using crayons, LOOK HERE
Now, I’m not suggesting that you should bore the arse off people with a recantation about lipstick at the next social you attend, far from it, but what I hope I’ve provided here, is a choice of awkward-silence-breakers that could lead the conversation, well, anywhere.
Should you wish to suggest a random subject you wish me to explore (to help all the introverts out there with their conversation pitch), leave a comment.
I’m British, but by far the biggest market for my romantic suspenses is the USA (come on, fight back Team GB). This often leads to a itsy-bitsy war of words. So in the interest of world peace, I thought I’d expand the linguistic horizons of both sides. With a bit of slang--because Hard to Forget, (Book 2 in my Hard to… series, releases today, (quick, pass the voddie), and a certain coarseness prevails within the British Intelligence Service, set here, London.
Voddie: An affectionate term for Vodka
Queen: A homosexual man in the US. Current head of the Royal Family in the UK!
Piece of Piss: UK slang for ‘dead easy’. Not well know in the States, where it causes recoil.
Lost the plot: English for ‘losing one’s mind’.
Ass: Much used in the US, not a donkey as we believe in the UK, but one's bum…or arse.
Bum: One’s arse, not a tramp, as used in the US. (Tramp being a homeless wanderer (UK), not a fast, loose woman)
Shlong: Male genitalia. Vulgar. Referring to length, long (as opposed to schlort), and girth (substantial). This one’s actually Yiddish or ‘old German’ in origin, and used on both sides of the Atlantic.
Hooker: US slang for prostitute, in the UK: tom, brass, slag, or slapper.
In a New York minute: US slang for ‘very fast’
Cock up: British, meaning ‘a mistake’, equivalent to US ‘screw up’
Fanny: Buttocks in the US, female genitalia in the UK
Fagged: As in ‘can’t be fagged’. British for 'can’t be bothered'. (Nope, don't want to know what the US imagined this meant)
Blow me: British for to ‘knock down’ as in ‘blow me down (knock me down) with a feather. In the US, I understand, the meaning is more specifically sexual.
Barmy: Means mad or crazy in the UK.
Mad: 'Angry' in the US. Barmy in the UK.
Juiced: 'Very excited' in the US, something done to fruit/vegetables in the UK.
Got a few slang words/phrases you’d like to share? Post in the comments. Don’t be shy!
And on the subject of Hard to Forget (did I mention it releases today), here are a couple of quotes ‘nicked’ (British slang for ‘to steal’) from the book…and also an endorsement I couldn’t resist.
He didn’t want her trust. What the hell would he do with it? Jack Ballentyne
Protective custody? What’s that a euphemism for, exactly? Lowry Fisk
"The Hard to… Series is an amazing book series with strong characters and a powerful story. It is truly a MUST-READ series and the author herself is MUST READ and MUST FOLLOW!!!"-- Mia's Point of View here
Queen: A homosexual man in the US. Current head of the Royal Family in the UK!
Piece of Piss: UK slang for ‘dead easy’. Not well know in the States, where it causes recoil.
Lost the plot: English for ‘losing one’s mind’.
Ass: Much used in the US, not a donkey as we believe in the UK, but one's bum…or arse.
Bum: One’s arse, not a tramp, as used in the US. (Tramp being a homeless wanderer (UK), not a fast, loose woman)
Shlong: Male genitalia. Vulgar. Referring to length, long (as opposed to schlort), and girth (substantial). This one’s actually Yiddish or ‘old German’ in origin, and used on both sides of the Atlantic.
Hooker: US slang for prostitute, in the UK: tom, brass, slag, or slapper.
In a New York minute: US slang for ‘very fast’
Cock up: British, meaning ‘a mistake’, equivalent to US ‘screw up’
Fanny: Buttocks in the US, female genitalia in the UK
Fagged: As in ‘can’t be fagged’. British for 'can’t be bothered'. (Nope, don't want to know what the US imagined this meant)
Blow me: British for to ‘knock down’ as in ‘blow me down (knock me down) with a feather. In the US, I understand, the meaning is more specifically sexual.
Barmy: Means mad or crazy in the UK.
Mad: 'Angry' in the US. Barmy in the UK.
Juiced: 'Very excited' in the US, something done to fruit/vegetables in the UK.
Got a few slang words/phrases you’d like to share? Post in the comments. Don’t be shy!
And on the subject of Hard to Forget (did I mention it releases today), here are a couple of quotes ‘nicked’ (British slang for ‘to steal’) from the book…and also an endorsement I couldn’t resist.
He didn’t want her trust. What the hell would he do with it? Jack Ballentyne
Protective custody? What’s that a euphemism for, exactly? Lowry Fisk
"The Hard to… Series is an amazing book series with strong characters and a powerful story. It is truly a MUST-READ series and the author herself is MUST READ and MUST FOLLOW!!!"-- Mia's Point of View here
Full details for Hard to Forget…the blurb, buy links, even a free sample (Chapter One) can be found here
And you can, of course, further connect with me, Incy Black, here:
Twitter @IncyBlack
Oh, and do sign up for my newsletter (see side bar), and if you’re really eager, you can join my secret society, Black Quills, here
I've got the wonderful Zara Stoneley with me today, here to share a few snippets about herself, and also a few teasers from her most recent release Stable Mates. First up, (and in her own words), four facts about what life influences impact Zara's writing: One – I used to run a dog grooming business, my favourite client was a tree climbing Border Collie (made life fun for the cats!) Two - I wanted to be a vet when I was at school, but ended up as an IT consultant with horses, dogs and cats. Then a dog groomer, teacher and finally published author. (But still with the horses, dogs and cats) Three – I spend every other weekend in Barcelona, and love the place, so it had to sneak into this story. Four – My favourite place for writing is the sofa, but I get most of my inspiration when I’m lying on the beach. |
And now for a few fact that are key in her latest book Stable Mates. There's:
One death that could change a village for ever.
Two villages, Tippermere the country home of the Cheshire set, Kitterly Heath home to footballers and film stars.
Three generations of families and secrets.
And, four hot men.
(What more could a girl want? Well, it is on offer for 99p at the moment!)
Want some teasers to wet your appetite? Here you go then:
Lottie grinned and forgot all about the weird Tiggy who had taken the opportunity to run back to Billy. ‘Pip said you’d be a lightweight.’
Tom stared back, horrified that details of the mad coupling had already spread through the village like wildfire, including a detailed description of any sexual deviancies and shortcomings he was presumed to have.
‘She said that?’ What had she meant, lightweight? Small, totally inadequate? Hung like a horse suddenly took on a whole new connotation of expectation and disappointment.
‘You’d never stand the pace, she said when she text.’
Text, she’d been texting in the middle of that? Was he really so pissed that he’d missed her waving her mobile phone around in between thrusts? And he’d got there, and so had she, unless all those animal-like noises had been because her mobile had got stuck somewhere it shouldn’t. Or were they to disguise the fact that she was actually reporting the whole thing while he’d been buried deep between those evenly tanned and toned legs?
***
Normally Lottie considered herself a pretty safe driver, but the highway code wasn’t uppermost in her mind as she sped along the narrow lanes, the green hedgerows a dizzying blur as she took a corner slightly too quick for comfort. Dizzy was the last thing she felt though as the broad black rear of a horse came towards her at alarming speed.
‘Shit.’ It would be so undignified to be killed with her nose buried up a horse’s back end. She could imagine the headlines, ‘Promising eventer, Charlotte Brinkley, died today of suffocation after embedding herself in a horse’s arse. The horse’s rider was unharmed.’
She wrenched the steering wheel to one side, clipping the grass verge with a satisfying clump and embedding a good clod of Cheshire mud under her front wheel arches, and ground to a halt inches from a ditch (she knew there was a ditch because she nearly fell in it as she clambered out), mortified that she had nearly added to the road kill statistics.
***
Amanda was pretty sure that her skin-tight breeches, purchased more for appearance than practicality, were going to split straight down the centre of her bottom and show off the blue knickers she’d worn for luck and to give her confidence. And if the breeches didn’t, she might. It also seemed a bloody long way down to the ground, and gymnastics had never been her forte. She’d been the girl at the top of the rope in the school gym, not sure whether it would be more embarrassing to ask for help or to slide down and get severe rope burns all the way down her inner thighs. ‘Just let go’ had never been an instruction that had worked for her.
She closed her eyes, said a silent prayer and did as instructed. For a brief, horrifying moment, her knee got stuck on the cantle of the saddle and a vision of the horse galloping off with her hanging limpet-like onto his side like a Russian Cossack flashed through her mind, and then her body weight took over (no doubt leaving a massive bruise on her inner thigh – how did one explain that whilst having a bikini wax?) and she slithered ungracefully to the ground. Still clinging onto mane and saddle.
She took a deep breath and asked the question she still wasn’t sure she wanted to, ‘Can we do it again next week?’
***
‘This is like herding cats,’ he raised his voice from a mutter to a shriek, ‘look, darling, will you just take the heels off so we can see the guy behind.’
‘I certainly won’t.’ The ‘darling’ in question, who had credits in Doctor Who and had been considered for a role alongside Sean Bean no less (or so she told everyone), glared at Xander. ‘It isn’t my fault he’s small.’ She turned to see the manager of the groom’s football team (known by Pip, and many others, as Yummy Jose), who was not used to having his lack of stature pointed out.
Jasmine, sensing a riot was about to break out, rushed in to usher Jose into a more prestigious spot, and gave the ‘darling’ an assessing look in an attempt to work out just how important she really was as far as readership figures went.
‘She shagged Sean, Jazz.’ Was Xander’s whispered message.
‘Bean or Penn?’
‘Bean.’
In a quandary, Jasmine weighed the importance of a tenuous link to Game of Thrones against an established link to the World Cup team, which normally would be a no-brainer, except this one was a worthy pin-up with a massive female following and speculation was rife (particularly in their magazine) about an imminent divorce.
Snub Jose and she might be saying goodbye to the promotion she had been working on for the last five weeks. And she had made more sacrifices than normal this time, given that the man she’d had to woo was overweight, had halitosis and a nasty line in the need to spank. Hard. With a brush, which she was sure had left bruises that would never go. ‘We’ll go with Jose, Xander, unless she takes her shoes off.’ Which, she had to admit, was also partly because she had her own ideas on what Jose could be doing after the wedding, and partly because aspiring actresses with big boobs and even bigger egos got on her tits. They needed bringing down a peg or two sometimes, and she had the power.
And don't just take my word for it that Stable Mates is a terrific read: Reviews –
.’A delightful romp peppered with humour, sadness, scandal and steamy sex’
'the perfect mix of horsey shenanigans, Cheshire glamour and flirty fun'
'as this story was building up to the end, it kept on getting better. Stable Mates is different to a lot of women’s fiction novels around at the moment and it was a really impressive read.'
'reminded me of Jilly Cooper whose books I grew up with. Stable Mates is up there with Riders and Rivals. If you loved these books then you will love this one'
'I laughed all the way through this book'
I truly felt Stoneley was fabulous at describing the comedic chain reactions set off by people, dogs or horses, alike'
Stable Mates Blurb -
Secrets and scandals, love and lust – when the ‘Cheshire Set’ are up against the ‘Footballer’s Wives’ the only common ground is carnal…
Flirting and fun seem the perfect antidote for Lottie's battered heart, and where better to find them than back in tranquil Tippermere, home of sexy eventer Rory Steel, the smiling Irish eyes of hunky farrier Mick O'Neal, and mysterious newcomer, model Tom Strachan?
But when landowner Marcus James drops dead unexpectedly, and the threat of his waggish wife Amanda selling the heart of the village out from under them looms large, things look like they're about to heat up in and out of the saddle.
With tensions running high, and the champagne flowing as freely as the adrenalin, is it any wonder that love catches more than one of them unawares?
Buy links –
Amazon Barnes & Noble Kobo Foyles Waterstones
Sainsbury’s Google Play iTunes Blackwells
Bio
Bestselling author Zara Stoneley lives in deepest Cheshire surrounded by horses, dogs, cats and amazing countryside. When she’s not visiting wine bars, artisan markets or admiring the scenery in her sexy high heels or green wellies, she can be found in flip flops on the beach in Barcelona, or more likely sampling the tapas!
Zara writes hot romance and bonkbusters. Her latest novel, ‘Stable Mates’, is a fun romp through the Cheshire countryside and combines some of her greatest loves – horses, dogs, hot men and strong women (and not forgetting champagne and fast cars)!
She writes for Harper Collins and Accent Press.
Find out more about Zara:
Website Twitter Facebook Google+
One death that could change a village for ever.
Two villages, Tippermere the country home of the Cheshire set, Kitterly Heath home to footballers and film stars.
Three generations of families and secrets.
And, four hot men.
(What more could a girl want? Well, it is on offer for 99p at the moment!)
Want some teasers to wet your appetite? Here you go then:
Lottie grinned and forgot all about the weird Tiggy who had taken the opportunity to run back to Billy. ‘Pip said you’d be a lightweight.’
Tom stared back, horrified that details of the mad coupling had already spread through the village like wildfire, including a detailed description of any sexual deviancies and shortcomings he was presumed to have.
‘She said that?’ What had she meant, lightweight? Small, totally inadequate? Hung like a horse suddenly took on a whole new connotation of expectation and disappointment.
‘You’d never stand the pace, she said when she text.’
Text, she’d been texting in the middle of that? Was he really so pissed that he’d missed her waving her mobile phone around in between thrusts? And he’d got there, and so had she, unless all those animal-like noises had been because her mobile had got stuck somewhere it shouldn’t. Or were they to disguise the fact that she was actually reporting the whole thing while he’d been buried deep between those evenly tanned and toned legs?
***
Normally Lottie considered herself a pretty safe driver, but the highway code wasn’t uppermost in her mind as she sped along the narrow lanes, the green hedgerows a dizzying blur as she took a corner slightly too quick for comfort. Dizzy was the last thing she felt though as the broad black rear of a horse came towards her at alarming speed.
‘Shit.’ It would be so undignified to be killed with her nose buried up a horse’s back end. She could imagine the headlines, ‘Promising eventer, Charlotte Brinkley, died today of suffocation after embedding herself in a horse’s arse. The horse’s rider was unharmed.’
She wrenched the steering wheel to one side, clipping the grass verge with a satisfying clump and embedding a good clod of Cheshire mud under her front wheel arches, and ground to a halt inches from a ditch (she knew there was a ditch because she nearly fell in it as she clambered out), mortified that she had nearly added to the road kill statistics.
***
Amanda was pretty sure that her skin-tight breeches, purchased more for appearance than practicality, were going to split straight down the centre of her bottom and show off the blue knickers she’d worn for luck and to give her confidence. And if the breeches didn’t, she might. It also seemed a bloody long way down to the ground, and gymnastics had never been her forte. She’d been the girl at the top of the rope in the school gym, not sure whether it would be more embarrassing to ask for help or to slide down and get severe rope burns all the way down her inner thighs. ‘Just let go’ had never been an instruction that had worked for her.
She closed her eyes, said a silent prayer and did as instructed. For a brief, horrifying moment, her knee got stuck on the cantle of the saddle and a vision of the horse galloping off with her hanging limpet-like onto his side like a Russian Cossack flashed through her mind, and then her body weight took over (no doubt leaving a massive bruise on her inner thigh – how did one explain that whilst having a bikini wax?) and she slithered ungracefully to the ground. Still clinging onto mane and saddle.
She took a deep breath and asked the question she still wasn’t sure she wanted to, ‘Can we do it again next week?’
***
‘This is like herding cats,’ he raised his voice from a mutter to a shriek, ‘look, darling, will you just take the heels off so we can see the guy behind.’
‘I certainly won’t.’ The ‘darling’ in question, who had credits in Doctor Who and had been considered for a role alongside Sean Bean no less (or so she told everyone), glared at Xander. ‘It isn’t my fault he’s small.’ She turned to see the manager of the groom’s football team (known by Pip, and many others, as Yummy Jose), who was not used to having his lack of stature pointed out.
Jasmine, sensing a riot was about to break out, rushed in to usher Jose into a more prestigious spot, and gave the ‘darling’ an assessing look in an attempt to work out just how important she really was as far as readership figures went.
‘She shagged Sean, Jazz.’ Was Xander’s whispered message.
‘Bean or Penn?’
‘Bean.’
In a quandary, Jasmine weighed the importance of a tenuous link to Game of Thrones against an established link to the World Cup team, which normally would be a no-brainer, except this one was a worthy pin-up with a massive female following and speculation was rife (particularly in their magazine) about an imminent divorce.
Snub Jose and she might be saying goodbye to the promotion she had been working on for the last five weeks. And she had made more sacrifices than normal this time, given that the man she’d had to woo was overweight, had halitosis and a nasty line in the need to spank. Hard. With a brush, which she was sure had left bruises that would never go. ‘We’ll go with Jose, Xander, unless she takes her shoes off.’ Which, she had to admit, was also partly because she had her own ideas on what Jose could be doing after the wedding, and partly because aspiring actresses with big boobs and even bigger egos got on her tits. They needed bringing down a peg or two sometimes, and she had the power.
And don't just take my word for it that Stable Mates is a terrific read: Reviews –
.’A delightful romp peppered with humour, sadness, scandal and steamy sex’
'the perfect mix of horsey shenanigans, Cheshire glamour and flirty fun'
'as this story was building up to the end, it kept on getting better. Stable Mates is different to a lot of women’s fiction novels around at the moment and it was a really impressive read.'
'reminded me of Jilly Cooper whose books I grew up with. Stable Mates is up there with Riders and Rivals. If you loved these books then you will love this one'
'I laughed all the way through this book'
I truly felt Stoneley was fabulous at describing the comedic chain reactions set off by people, dogs or horses, alike'
Stable Mates Blurb -
Secrets and scandals, love and lust – when the ‘Cheshire Set’ are up against the ‘Footballer’s Wives’ the only common ground is carnal…
Flirting and fun seem the perfect antidote for Lottie's battered heart, and where better to find them than back in tranquil Tippermere, home of sexy eventer Rory Steel, the smiling Irish eyes of hunky farrier Mick O'Neal, and mysterious newcomer, model Tom Strachan?
But when landowner Marcus James drops dead unexpectedly, and the threat of his waggish wife Amanda selling the heart of the village out from under them looms large, things look like they're about to heat up in and out of the saddle.
With tensions running high, and the champagne flowing as freely as the adrenalin, is it any wonder that love catches more than one of them unawares?
Buy links –
Amazon Barnes & Noble Kobo Foyles Waterstones
Sainsbury’s Google Play iTunes Blackwells
Bio
Bestselling author Zara Stoneley lives in deepest Cheshire surrounded by horses, dogs, cats and amazing countryside. When she’s not visiting wine bars, artisan markets or admiring the scenery in her sexy high heels or green wellies, she can be found in flip flops on the beach in Barcelona, or more likely sampling the tapas!
Zara writes hot romance and bonkbusters. Her latest novel, ‘Stable Mates’, is a fun romp through the Cheshire countryside and combines some of her greatest loves – horses, dogs, hot men and strong women (and not forgetting champagne and fast cars)!
She writes for Harper Collins and Accent Press.
Find out more about Zara:
Website Twitter Facebook Google+
I was tagged by Jodi Linton (creator of the fabulous Laney Briggs series) to join in with the Meet the Character blog hop—which kind of sucks a bit, because my kickass hero who you really need to meet right now, is currently under the blanket (naked), and will remain so for another week until his story releases in Hard to Forget on October 6th.
Not a problem, Nick Marshall of Hard to Hold (a good friend of said anonymous naked kickass hero) has stepped up to hold the line.
But, before engaging in the character assassination of Nick Marshall, a little about Jodi Linton: Jodi is the mastermind behind the hilarious, crazy-Texan Deputy Laney Briggs series, featuring the trials, tribulations and furnace-hot heat of Laney and Gunner.
Her first two titles, Pretty Reckless and Whatcha Gonna Do With a Cowboy defy definition. Yes both are romantic suspenses, but both are so much MORE (hence the live buy links), go check them out.
Not a problem, Nick Marshall of Hard to Hold (a good friend of said anonymous naked kickass hero) has stepped up to hold the line.
But, before engaging in the character assassination of Nick Marshall, a little about Jodi Linton: Jodi is the mastermind behind the hilarious, crazy-Texan Deputy Laney Briggs series, featuring the trials, tribulations and furnace-hot heat of Laney and Gunner.
Her first two titles, Pretty Reckless and Whatcha Gonna Do With a Cowboy defy definition. Yes both are romantic suspenses, but both are so much MORE (hence the live buy links), go check them out.
Now for the hero of Hard to Hold
What is the name of your character?
Special Agent (former assassin with British Intelligence), Nick Marshall. And he’s severely repressed…unwittingly, his determined self-control makes him lethal.
When and where is the story set?
Present day London, with a bit of explosive, overseas travel thrown in.
What should we know about your character?
He’s hot. He’s damaged. He’s a tactless bastard. And, he’s a stickler for rules. Beneath the guilt—and I do meant guilt not gilt—plated armour, he’s fiercely protective, and a hazard to those threatening Anna.
What is your character’s goal?
To protect his ex-wife, Anna Key (say it fast)…God help him and his sanity.
What is screwing up your character’s life (main conflict in writerly speak)?
His fear that the sins of his father ‘Mad Mickey’ Marshall, live on in him. Oh, and Anna… She who will not be constrained, contained or conquered. Damn her!
What is the title?
Hard to Hold (because Nick is, and so too, is Anna)
When can we expect the book to be published or when was it published?
Hard to Hold is available now through Amazon, iTunes, Barnes & Noble…and though strictly embargoed, Hard to Forget (2nd title in the Hard to…. series), releases next week (October 6).
What is the name of your character?
Special Agent (former assassin with British Intelligence), Nick Marshall. And he’s severely repressed…unwittingly, his determined self-control makes him lethal.
When and where is the story set?
Present day London, with a bit of explosive, overseas travel thrown in.
What should we know about your character?
He’s hot. He’s damaged. He’s a tactless bastard. And, he’s a stickler for rules. Beneath the guilt—and I do meant guilt not gilt—plated armour, he’s fiercely protective, and a hazard to those threatening Anna.
What is your character’s goal?
To protect his ex-wife, Anna Key (say it fast)…God help him and his sanity.
What is screwing up your character’s life (main conflict in writerly speak)?
His fear that the sins of his father ‘Mad Mickey’ Marshall, live on in him. Oh, and Anna… She who will not be constrained, contained or conquered. Damn her!
What is the title?
Hard to Hold (because Nick is, and so too, is Anna)
When can we expect the book to be published or when was it published?
Hard to Hold is available now through Amazon, iTunes, Barnes & Noble…and though strictly embargoed, Hard to Forget (2nd title in the Hard to…. series), releases next week (October 6).
Now I’ve probably screwed up the protocol of this blog hop but I believe major talents
Aleah Barley
Lauren Smith and
Veronica Forand
Are blog hopping too, with hot heroes of their own, so take a look.
Aleah Barley
Lauren Smith and
Veronica Forand
Are blog hopping too, with hot heroes of their own, so take a look.
On the heels of Daring to Wish and Best Fake Day (two wonderful contemporary romances) Tracey Rogers just released Employee of the Month, in which two adults misbehaving (or as I prefer to deem it, exercising their right to a little fun-fun time) have to face the consequences of their calendared rendezvouses. You’ve got self imposed rules broken, forbidden love in the work place, unexpected pregnancy, heat (lots of heat), dysfunctional family dynamics, and a hero who’s about to find out that, yes, whilst you can have your cake and eat it, but there will be, well… consequences. For those of you who have yet to discover Ms Rogers, she writes delicious romances rich with wit, dark moments, and artfully drawn heroes and heroines who engage from the get-go. |
Author Bio Usually found with a pen in my hand, or my head in a book, I’m a contemporary romance author who also thinks fangs and wings are a very attractive accessory. A devourer of books from an early age, imagination was my best discovery. I spent much of my childhood stepping into wardrobes, searching for that magical snowy world where conversing with animals would be expected. When I wasn’t searching for those worlds, I wrote about them instead. My first step into the world of romance was when I stole sneak peeks into my nana’s books. I’m still in that world and I refuse to leave. I live in Staffordshire, UK, with my husband and three wonderful children. An avid reader and writer of romance, I strongly believe that words make the world go around. I like nothing more than to be swept away by the words on a page. I hope I can sweep you away too. You can find Tracey Rogers here: Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Google+ | Goodreads | StreetTeam Further Titles by Tracey Rogers | Blurb Some rules are made to be broken… Rule number 1: No touching Rule number 2: No kissing Rule number 3: Never, ever, fall in love Holly Wilder finds some of those rules pretty difficult to follow during her boss’s visits to present the Employee of the Month award. A relationship between them is prohibited, and even if it wasn’t, Holly has no intention of ever falling in love again. But that doesn’t stop her from craving Max’s touch. Hotel owner Max Lazzari never expected to break his own rules, especially when they are so important to him. But sexy employee Holly is too hard to resist. Their no-strings, secret arrangement fits in perfectly with his no-commitment plan. A plan to ensure that no woman will ever again have the opportunity to hurt him. Sizzling nights together mean Holly and Max start looking forward to the monthly visits more and more. Until they are both brought down to earth with a bump—a pregnancy one! Will rule breaking lead to broken hearts? Content Warning: contains sensual sex and some strong language (I can vouch for that...and its woven in beautifully) Excerpt Holly carried a tray holding freshly ground coffee. The plush carpeted corridor absorbed the tension in her legs as she headed to Max Lazzari’s office. Dragging air deep into her lungs, she inhaled the aroma of coffee, allowing it to invigorate her senses. Must be professional, she reminded her lust-filled brain, though her body’s reactions were refusing to comply. Balancing the tray on one of her not quite controlled arms, Holly sucked in a breath before knocking on the door. “Come in.” His deep tone made her tray wobble. She watched with wide eyes as the coffee almost sloshed over the rim of the cup, then watched how the ripples of liquid aftershock mirrored the way her insides felt. Complete turmoil. She opened the door and looked at the man with his dark head dipped to the computer screen. “Your coffee, Mr. Lazzari.” The door fell closed behind her. Her brow furrowed when she spotted the full coffee pot plugged into the machine behind him. His keen green eyes, hooded beneath long lashes, were lifted up at her. She carried the tray over to set it on the desk. “I believe you wanted to speak to me about an upcoming function. Which function would that be?” He rose, startling her. Her shaky fingers still gripped the tray, but now her hold whitened her knuckles. The cup rattled. “This one,” his husky voice said. With a grin he took her chin in his hand and captured her mouth with his. He dropped his hand, bracing both of them on the desk to kiss her more thoroughly, more deeply. Holly allowed arousal to cascade through her, absorbing the softness and skill of his lips as he teased and swept, offering her the taste she’d been craving. She lifted her hand to thread her fingers through the dark hair at his nape. God, she’d been waiting for this. Arching closer, her thighs dug hard into the desk edge. She tilted her head, inviting him deeper. If her darned pencil skirt wasn’t so tight she’d have crawled over the desk by now. She heard a soft groan. Hers. “Missed me?” Max chuckled as he gave her his now familiar lopsided grin. The one she held in her memory to help her through the weeks. “I did,” she confirmed, frowning as she mourned the loss of his lips. “There was an extra day in this month.” She rested her palms over his jaw, covering the dimples in his tanned cheeks. She liked the feel of his smooth, clean shaven skin, the warmth against her needy hands. “But you broke the rules, Mr. Lazzari. Absolutely no touching at work, remember?” AND THERE IS A GIVEAWAY!!! Rafflecopter Giveaway! CLICK TO ACTIVATE. AND THOSE ALL IMPORTANT BUY LINKS AGAIN Amazon UK Amazon US Barnes & Noble Beachwalk Press |
Ripped male model. Naked. Posed. Muscles bunched... Would you attend a life drawing class? Chelsea did...and wow!
Seriously, I'm tempted (can't draw though...and I'm easily distracted). So I'll have to settle for living vicariously. Thanks NIKKI DEE HOUSTON (Naughty Nikki as I like to call her), for the experience.
Now Nikki may be naughty (just ask Chelsea, lead player in her new release), but she's also a mighty generous soul. She's happy to share the sexploits in
PICTURE PERFECT (Deets below)
Blurb Chelsea is lonely, loveless, and horny as hell since her boyfriend dumped her. Her good friend from the office, Troy, suggests she take up art classes in the hope of meeting a nice guy. He knows what she needs, and he doesn’t want to spoil their friendship by having to do it himself. Stuart, the male nude model at life drawing classes has the perfect body. Chelsea can barely contain her desire as she studies his smooth, waxed, muscle-toned physique and then attempts to commit it to canvas. She acquaints herself with every gorgeous inch of his body, and although her skills as an artist fall a bit short, the vision of Stuart’s torso is wonderful fodder for her nocturnal fantasies. She feeds sumptuously, sating her ravishing hunger, quelling her desires. But it’s not enough. She needs more. She needs the real thing, not just her fantasies. Extract She stared at the delicate shade of blue on the stark white paper. A magnificent male penis, gloriously protruding from a muscular, flat stomach, dominated the sketch. Slender thighs framed the flaccid appendage, and beneath, graceful testicles hung like pollen-filled stamens drooping from a flower. She looked up to see a little crowd gather around her, speechless at the beauty of the drawing. A male voice, soft and rich, spoke. “Chelsea? That is just…wonderful.” She turned and gazed into Peter’s eyes, admiration oozing from them. About Nikki Nikki Dee Houston is a businesswoman by day, an erotic romance writer by night, and a lover all the time. She lives in an idyllic location in a modest beach shack near the sea. Contact Nikki www.nikkideehouston.com https://www.facebook.com/NikkiDeeHouston84 @NikkiDeeHouston |
The fabulous Shehanne Moore nominated me for a place in her Character Blog Tour… She and Lady Malice
are kind of a hard act to follow. Especially when my ‘subject’ is about as forthcoming as a Trappist monk at a debate. Not that Jack Ballentyne’s a monk. Quite the contrary, if his past reputation for shagging half of London, is anything to go by.
Major Jack Ballentyne (British Intelligence Service. Former leader of ‘The Assassins’ a plausibly deniable unit) declines the offer to take a seat, preferring instead, to take up a surveillance position by the window. Be warned, he’s not exactly chatty. In fact, I’ll be grateful to get more than a bad-tempered grunt out of him…
JACK: The following are out of bounds: my title, my work, my family.
ME: This’ll be a short interview then.
JACK’S RESPONSE: A shrug, then a long lazy grin.
ME: Of what accomplishment are you most proud?
JACK: Still being alive.
ME: Ambition?
JACK: To receive a telegram from the Queen on my 100th Birthday.
ME: Would you call yourself a forgiving man?
JACK: You’re kidding, right?
ME: Yet you forgave yourself.
JACK: Move on.
(Man’s sexy when he scowls)
ME: What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done?
JACK: Handcuff my future wife.
ME: Bravest thing you’ve ever done?
JACK: Ask Lowry to marry me?
ME: Motto?
JACK: The end justifies the means.
ME: Favourite way to keep fit?
JACK: Sex.
ME: Obsession?
JACK: Lowry.
ME: Favourite place?
JACK: Bed…with Lowry.
ME: Favourite food?
JACK: Lowry.
ME: Favourite game?
JACK: Kiss chase…with Lowry.
ME: Heaviest guilt?
JACK: Lowry… And my brother, Richard.
ME: Favourite colour?
JACK: Blond
ME: Least favourite animal?
JACK: Serial killer
ME: Favourite mode of transport? And if you say Lowry, I’m telling her.
JACK: My Triumph bike…with Lowry.
Jack abruptly lets the curtain he’s held aside with his forefinger fall back into place. “Right, that’s it, time’s up.”
ME: But…but…but
Too late, he’s gone. Lowry was right. Jack Ballentyne is impossible. As you’ll find out when ‘Hard to Forget’ releases in early October 2014.
For context, Jack is best friends with Nick Marshall, hero (kind of) in Hard to Hard.
are kind of a hard act to follow. Especially when my ‘subject’ is about as forthcoming as a Trappist monk at a debate. Not that Jack Ballentyne’s a monk. Quite the contrary, if his past reputation for shagging half of London, is anything to go by.
Major Jack Ballentyne (British Intelligence Service. Former leader of ‘The Assassins’ a plausibly deniable unit) declines the offer to take a seat, preferring instead, to take up a surveillance position by the window. Be warned, he’s not exactly chatty. In fact, I’ll be grateful to get more than a bad-tempered grunt out of him…
JACK: The following are out of bounds: my title, my work, my family.
ME: This’ll be a short interview then.
JACK’S RESPONSE: A shrug, then a long lazy grin.
ME: Of what accomplishment are you most proud?
JACK: Still being alive.
ME: Ambition?
JACK: To receive a telegram from the Queen on my 100th Birthday.
ME: Would you call yourself a forgiving man?
JACK: You’re kidding, right?
ME: Yet you forgave yourself.
JACK: Move on.
(Man’s sexy when he scowls)
ME: What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done?
JACK: Handcuff my future wife.
ME: Bravest thing you’ve ever done?
JACK: Ask Lowry to marry me?
ME: Motto?
JACK: The end justifies the means.
ME: Favourite way to keep fit?
JACK: Sex.
ME: Obsession?
JACK: Lowry.
ME: Favourite place?
JACK: Bed…with Lowry.
ME: Favourite food?
JACK: Lowry.
ME: Favourite game?
JACK: Kiss chase…with Lowry.
ME: Heaviest guilt?
JACK: Lowry… And my brother, Richard.
ME: Favourite colour?
JACK: Blond
ME: Least favourite animal?
JACK: Serial killer
ME: Favourite mode of transport? And if you say Lowry, I’m telling her.
JACK: My Triumph bike…with Lowry.
Jack abruptly lets the curtain he’s held aside with his forefinger fall back into place. “Right, that’s it, time’s up.”
ME: But…but…but
Too late, he’s gone. Lowry was right. Jack Ballentyne is impossible. As you’ll find out when ‘Hard to Forget’ releases in early October 2014.
For context, Jack is best friends with Nick Marshall, hero (kind of) in Hard to Hard.
Blurb, Sample & Buy links http://www.entangledpublishing.com/hard-to-hold/
Hard Men the Hard Way
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