Tag Archives: coming soon

Writing to Music and Memories with @MeganSlayer #music #inspiration #iamwriting

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and trying to write. Sounds a little odd, right? Trying to write? Sometimes the words are there, but getting them onto paper or the screen isn’t easy. Life gets in the way, despite the characters not stopping to understand that, and I can’t always get everything jotted down.

So I was thinking, driving and listening to the radio… As I’m going along on my way to a sporting event for my tot, a song came over the radio that reminded me of my characters. Not from the current WIP, but a new one. I’ve usually got two WIPs going at one time, but this one was way out of left field. I have the general outline in my head and did manage to get it down on paper so I can get to it later.

But that driving trip got me thinking about how music has been so influential in my life and writing. I need playlists to write. I need to be inspired. When I was a kid, I used to sit right next to my gigantic boom box and listen to the nightly top ten countdown on my local radio station. I’d write down the songs because if I called in and was the tenth caller (or whatever number they requested that night) who could recall the list…then you won a free cassette tape. I used to try and win every night. I had the list mostly memorized. I never did win, but those songs are still with me. I hear them and think of being a kid again. I remember the thrill of listening to the new tunes, being inspired to create art and maybe get lucky enough to win. I never did, but hey, it was still fun.

Maybe I should use that story for one of my books. Grin. Speaking of being inspired, the highly anticipated next book in my Sanctuary Series drops this week. Saving His Roar!!

Saving His Roar by Megan Slayer

A Sanctuary Story

Book 9

M/M, Anal Sex

Paranormal, Contemporary

From Resplendence Publishing

Ryan ‘Blaze’ Burden knew his life wasn’t perfect. He’s a stripper at Stiff and a shifter, but he can’t tell anyone about his special ability. The popularity of shifters hasn’t come to Stiff or the town of Sugar Ridge, for that matter. Being a shifter is still frowned upon. Ryan knows he doesn’t fit in, but he does have one bright spot in his life—the mystery man who comes to the club and requests Ryan for private dances. The electricity between them is palpable, but if Ryan makes a move, will the hottie reciprocate?

Delaney Sullivan doesn’t come to Stiff for the ambiance. He’s there for one dancer—Blaze. He senses the shifter within the handsome young man. But Delaney works for the enemy—he’s the campaign manager for the mayor of Sugar Ridge. He doesn’t share the mayor’s desire to outlaw shifters because he’s a panther shifter. Can he get Blaze out of the club? To trust him? Or maybe even to love him?

These opposites certainly attract, but can they find the mutual trust to have a future together?

Available 9/13 from Resplendence Publishing

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B075HBM864/

Exclusive Excerpt ~ Guarding His Anchor by @KaceyHammell #ComingSoon #CanadianMuscle #Suspense

 

Good morning all. I hope you’ve had a splendid weekend. It’s been gorgeous here in Ontario. Above freezing temp – even up to 10 C yesterday – and the warmth of the sun shining and snow is melting. It’s been glorious. The next couple weeks are similar, warmer temps but with a few cooler mornings.

I have a new release coming tomorrow at Evernight Publishing. The 2nd Canadian Muscle story, Guarding His Anchor. I’m super excited about it. Anyone who read Guarding Midnight, Book 1, will remember Charlie & Frank. This is their journey since the last we saw them. It was a lot of fun to write, but also emotionally overwhelming at times. There were a few surprises along the way that I hadn’t counted on. But worked so well with the story. I’m not a fan of surprises when it comes to my writing, and while I outline loosely I usually know what lies ahead, but these darn characters just seem to take over! The nerve of them!

So today, I thought I would share an exclusive excerpt from Guarding His Anchor. Here, Frank is confronted, in a way, by the men who are loyal to Charlie. Frank knows he’s screwed up many times with her and she has people looking out for her.

Frank is a very complicated man to say the least. 😀

Excerpt ©KaceyHammell, 2017

The hard bass of the music inside the Vixen Club vibrated through Frank’s body as he entered.

People were packed into every square foot. Friday night brought in many locals who didn’t mind the ferocious beats from the speakers. Patrons came from other towns, too. Two dancers used the whole stage for their routine. Their short red skirts and stomach-baring tops glowed in the spotlights as they performed to a classic rock anthem. That they’d choreographed a Burlesque number to the music they chose always awed him. Charlotte didn’t allow stripping routines. A few might come close based on the skit, but it she didn’t run that type of establishment. The dancers pushed the envelope as much as they wanted without baring it all, teasing the customers but taking pride in what they created. He’d never met the two vivacious ladies currently on stage, but he had to applaud Charlotte’s business sense. She employed stunning and athletic ladies with immense talent.

Frank nodded at a few of the regulars he’d met before as he strolled toward the bar. He took a seat a seat on a stool and caught the bartender’s gaze.

“Hey, Frank.” Greg laid a napkin on the bar. “Good to see you again.”

“Thanks, man. Good to see the place full.”

“It’s the end of a long week for many. What’ll you have?”

“Irish whiskey.” Frank grinned. “The boss’s top-shelf stuff.”

Greg smirked, turned around, and pulled open a cupboard below the many full shelves. Again, he had to commend Charlotte for her taste in alcohol. Though pricier than other bars, she made sure to carry the best to offer her customers.

And she still kept the more expensive ones for special occasions.

“Is the boss around?” he questioned.

Greg’s gaze lifted to his after he filled the glass. Frank held it, knowing full well how loyal Charlotte’s employees were to her. He’d never run from anyone’s speculations. They knew his history with her, and it was none of their business where he and Charlotte stood.

“Something on your mind, Greg?” Frank challenged.

The bartender shook his head. “Not my business, man, but just hope you stick around this time.” He shoved the glass closer to Frank before he turned to help the customer at the other end of the bar.

Frank had to give it to the young guy—he had spunk. While he had the urge to grab the kid by the throat and tell him to mind his own fucking business, he understood the protectiveness Greg had for Charlotte. A lot of men did. Her care and personality, her love for those around her, induced loyalty from everyone who met her. From what she’d told him, over the years the town had wrapped her up in their protective arms and made her family. Many residents had given him glares and long lectures whenever he breezed through town.

“Hey, man, how you doing?” Marc questioned as he dropped onto the stool beside Frank.

“Want the usual, Marc?” Greg slapped a napkin on the bar, then grabbed a glass and held it beneath the draft tap. He filled it after Marc nodded.

“I’m doing all right, I guess. Wanted a break from reading endless charts and maps. There’s no shortage of paperwork to go through in Sean’s old cases and this one.”

“Searching for a pattern in his behavior?” Marc sipped his drink.

Frank shrugged and enjoyed a sip of his own drink. “Hard to justify a guy like that turning his back on years of service and his family. Makes little sense.”

“Then why the hard-on to bring him in? Not as though you’ve shown him any mercy, going after him with a vengeance.” Marc leaned on the bar, pinning Frank with his gaze. “If you have doubts, then why so sure he’s guilty?”

“The fucker shot me. Have you forgotten that?” Frank didn’t like his decisions challenged. And he bore the wound from whatever game Sean might be playing. A deep scar he’d forever live with. If Sean were still undercover, he deserved an Oscar.

Marc chuckled. “You’ve been bitching about that wound for days. I can’t forget. Not the first time someone’s shot you, right?”

Leave it to Marc to view things in simple black and white. If only Frank were a glass-half-full optimist like his friend. “Doesn’t matter. Even if Sean’s still in deep, he’s too far gone and needs to come in. For his life and others. His family and friends may suffer the consequences of his actions if he isn’t careful.”

The thought cut sharp. There was the potential for danger on Charlotte’s doorstep, and for Victoria and Shree, too. Frank wouldn’t rest until any threats were gone. Their lives were not something he’d take a chance with.

“Speaking of being careful.” Marc nodded his head toward the other side of the room and tipped his bottle in that direction. “If you aren’t careful, you’ll lose her for good. I mean, I don’t care considering she’s too good for you, but she wants you in your life.”

Frank’s gaze shifted and he watched Charlotte greet people, a smile on her lovely lips. The perfect hostess. Regulars and newbies got caught up in her pretty face and her matter-of-fact, no-nonsense demeanor. The dancers and their skits captured the crowds with flashes of skin with old classic tunes they lip-synced and danced to. The throwbacks to eras gone by came to life on stage. But as usual, being the goddess she was, Charlotte charmed them and wrapped them around her little finger. And in skin-tight black jeans, a tight fire-engine-red top, and her curly hair mussed as though she’d tumbled out of bed, nearly every hungry gaze in the place was on her. Male and female alike.

Desire curled in his gut, almost cutting off the oxygen to his lungs. But he’d pushed her too far the other day. They’d only communicated by text, and she was always in his thoughts. He’d laid his heart on the line when he’d said they weren’t over. That was the closest he’d get to sharing how he truly felt about her and what he hoped for the future.

He was hers.

 

Be sure to check out the first book in the series, Guarding Midnight.
Book Pages:
Book 1: Guarding Midnight
Book 2: Guarding His Anchor

Hope you have a wonderful week ahead!!

Kacey xoxo

 

A Sneaky Peek from Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985)

Hi everyone,

As promised in my last post, here’s a sneaky peek of what I’ve been up to, and what’s coming soon.

Currently, I’m working on a short story for an anthology, which I’m really enjoying. So let’s hope the publisher enjoys it too and says yes when I submit it. Following that, another anthology submission for another publisher. Following that, I’m hoping to start work on extending what is currently a novella called Hiding in Plain Sight. It’s had a bit of a rocky journey, you see. It was originally written for ARe Books, and they accepted it and it was due to release on the 1st February. Well… then it all went wrong, didn’t it? Luckily I got the rights returned to me really quickly, so I decided to self-publish it. But it’s not been that simple…

When I first started writing the book, I didn’t know quite where it was going to go. But it ran longer, and longer, and I soon realised it wanted to be the first book in a series. Which was fine. But I’ve now decided I do want it to be a series, but a series of novels, rather than novellas. Hence the delay in releasing the book. It could be released as is, but I want to continue the story of the main characters in this book, rather than another one. I hope it will be worth the wait! What makes it all the more exciting is that this is my first spy thriller!

Here’s an exclusive snippet from the start of the book:

Mallory Scott spotted the people she was looking for as soon as she walked into the hotel bar. Hell, she hadn’t even needed to search, they were being so loud and obnoxious that they were practically screaming for attention.

Stupid, in Mallory’s opinion. If you’re going to run an international diamond scam, then surely you’d want to keep a low profile? But no, apparently these guys didn’t give a shit. Not only were they screaming for attention, and getting it, she noticed, as other patrons of the bar shot them the occasional glare, they were also projecting the fact that they were filthy rich. They were supping on the most expensive champagne money could buy and asking if they could have some oysters and caviar brought in. The overwhelming arrogance made her blood boil, but she consoled herself with the fact that by the time she was done with them, they’d be taken down by more than a peg or two—they’d be at rock bottom.

Heading for a table in a position where she could watch them, but remain partially hidden behind a pillar, she shook her head. She could hardly believe they’d kept their multi-million-pound enterprise going for so long. If they ran their operation as sloppily as their current behavior indicated they might, it was a miracle indeed.

Not that it mattered. They could be running the tightest ship ever known to man, and she would still find a way to take them down. It was what she did. For years now, she’d been successfully infiltrating illegal operations of varying kinds, then gradually dismantling them from the inside. Before the criminals realized what was happening, it was too late, their wrists were practically in the handcuffs, their asses on their way to jail.

This project was different from the ones she usually handled. Her past takedowns included terrorist plots, kidnappings, drugs, people trafficking… that kind of thing. She’d been involved because sending in police or military personnel wouldn’t work. Not in those particular circumstances, anyway. To be truly effective, Mallory needed to infiltrate the organizations at the top, gain their trust, or at least enough trust to allow her to snoop, anyway, and acquire evidence of their involvement to ensure their convictions. Otherwise, rushing in and stopping the terrorists, saving people and so on, important as that was, would only affect a tiny part of the organization. It was vital to dismantle the whole thing, from the big bosses and the money men, right down to the minions doing the leg work.

An added bonus to this approach was that the victims of these organizations, as well as being saved, would get a sense of justice having been done to those that hurt them, and the knowledge that they’d never get the opportunity to do it again. It was dangerous but fulfilling work, and Mallory couldn’t imagine doing anything else. She loved the adrenaline rush, the challenge.

And the challenge element was precisely why this job was different. In as much as it wasn’t supposed to be particularly challenging. Intel gathered over the past year had pinpointed the what, the who, though they couldn’t yet put faces to names, the where and the how, and that had been done covertly, without the need for an undercover operative. All that remained in this case was to find out the when, so they could be caught in the act. It should have been simple, really. But the group was careful, exceedingly so. One of their number was a hacker, meaning that trying to access their emails, internet search histories and voicemails, or tap their phones was a no-go. They were smart.

Which meant the only option remaining was the old-fashioned approach.

A honey trap. It was Mallory’s job to attract the attention of one of the men in the group, hell, even one of the women if any of them swung that way—and slowly, slowly cultivate and exploit their relationship in order to get the information she needed. Then boom, another international criminal enterprise would bite the dust.

Which brought Mallory to her current position, dressed up in ludicrously expensive designer gear and half-hiding behind a pillar in the bar of one of Amsterdam’s most exclusive hotels. Someone less experienced than Mallory might have found the idea of staying out of sight ridiculous. The aim was to get the attention of one of the gang members, after all. But Mallory was at the top of her game, the very best of the best, and she knew damn well that putting in a little groundwork early on would pay off in spades. Before she did anything, before she so much as batted an eyelash in the direction of the gang, she needed to identify her target. It was pointless trying to eye-fuck with a bloke from across the room, only to discover he preferred men, or was happily married. That would attract the wrong kind of attention. When she did get noticed by the group, she wanted it to be for the right reasons, and on her terms. If they caught even so much as a whiff of her deception, it would be game over.

*****

In the meantime, my latest release (well, re-release) was A Different Kind of Cosplay, if you want to check it out!

Happy Reading,

Lucy x

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9