Tag Archives: romance

#SecondChances, Revealing Me and What Might Have Been with @MeganSlayer #mmromance #shortstory

Have you ever wondered what might have happened if you’d gotten a second chance with the one who got away? Ever wondered what it would be like to have the love of a lifetime? What if that guy happens to be a male model? Then you might be like the characters in my short story, Revealing Me.

Kenley is very nerdy and computer geeky. He knows he’s not the most handsome man out there, but he’s not awful. When the guy he had a one night stand with comes back…will the sparks fly again?

I love second chance romance stories and this one was a delight. I got to know Kenley and Peter so well and couldn’t stop their tale at only this one. They’ve got a whole series. Check out Revealing Me. It’s short, sweet but hot and yummy. I hope you love it as much as I do.

Revealing Me by Megan Slayer 

M/M, Anal Sex, Short Story, Contemporary, Second Chance Romance

From MLR Press

Can a one-night stand lead to the love of a lifetime?

Kenley Kissinger knew from the moment he met Peter, he’d never be the same. The white hot memories of their fling imprinted themselves on his mind. He can’t get over the handsome blond man. But since their night together, he hasn’t heard from Peter. Do they have a future or should he quit while he’s ahead?

Peter Barnes hasn’t forgotten Kenley, but he’s got a few secrets he’s not ready to spill. With the help of a masquerade ball thrown for the neighborhood and one nosy neighbor, he’s out to get his man. Once the masks are off, he’s ready to bare his soul. Will Peter be able to convince Kenley to give him a second try or is this pairing destined to be just a fling?

Available at:
MLR Books
Amazon

Check out an excerpt on my website: http://www.wendizwaduk.com/revealingme.htm

 Now for a Sexy Excerpt!!

©MeganSlayer, 2015, All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

Kenley Kissinger loved balls, but not this kind of ball. Fantasy gatherings with elaborate masks and groups of people together having fun-not awful, but not great for a guy who preferred to keep to himself.

He adjusted the mask over his eyes. He hated masks. Truth be told, he hated to have his face covered. He preferred honesty, but this damn ball wasn’t about honesty. It was a celebration, and no one gave a rat’s ass about his feelings.

He stepped into the Annex building and sucked in a long breath. His neighbor, Nadine, had rallied the neighborhood and conned everyone into holding a masquerade ball to celebrate the end of the summer. The kids were back in school and the floods that had ravaged the neighborhood over the summer were finally gone. The water levels for the Jeromesville Creek had reached record heights. But then the whole summer had been full of crazy weather and most people in Jeromesville, Ohio weren’t used to so much rain.

He turned his attention back to the dancers out on the street. He didn’t see how a party would make much difference, and boost morale after flooding, but whatever. He played along.

Maybe Peter would be there.

His breath clogged in his throat. He’d had a one-night stand with Peter two months ago, even called his cell phone a couple times afterwards, but Peter was always too busy to get together again.

In the course of one night, he’d fallen into lust with Peter Barnes. He had to be crazy. Peter wasn’t interested, but he kept thinking about the blond guy down the street. Why did Peter seem so sad? Why wasn’t he interested in getting together again? Why couldn’t Peter give him some sort of closure?

God only knew.

He and Peter hadn’t said anything about not wanting to share personal information. They seemed to be rather tight during the evening they’d shared, but then in the morning Peter disappeared. He wasn’t even sure what Peter did for a living.

He turned his attention back to the makeshift dance floor in the street. The DJ played 80’s dance music requiring everyone in the crowd to do the same steps. He’d never been good at those kinds of dances. His coordination didn’t work that way. He usually tripped over the person next to him or ended up five steps late on each move.

Leaning against the brick mailbox structure, he watched the dancers. A man with blond hair and a tailored suit danced along to the music. The black masquerade mask covered his eyes and forehead, but the rest of his face was up for viewing. When he smiled, a dimple deepened on his right cheek. Did he have scruff? Too hard to tell from so far away. He admired the build of the man’s body, strong like a bodybuilder, but wider in the shoulders and narrow around the waist with long legs. He sighed and bit back a grin. He liked men with long legs.

Peter had long legs and a dimple. He shivered. The memory of Peter’s kiss lingered in Kenley’s mind. He wanted to feel that desire again, and wanted to be loved.

A Sexy Spy Thriller, Hiding in Plain Sight, by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #sexy #spy #thriller #romance #suspense

Blurb:

Mallory Scott is an espionage operative, working for the British government. She’s travelled all over the world, often going undercover and infiltrating criminal organisations in order to extract the intelligence needed to dismantle their operations and bring the perpetrators to justice. Given her usual targets are terrorists, people-traffickers, drug-traffickers and arms dealers, her latest assignment should be relatively simple. A small group of Brits is raking in serious money in the diamond-scamming business—and although their MO is theft and forgery, rather than hurting people, they still need to be stopped. But up until now, they’ve proved elusive—no one can catch them in the act, or find a shred of evidence against them.

That’s where Mallory comes in. She follows the group to Amsterdam, planning to get her claws in to one of the gang. Luck is on her side, and within twenty-four hours she’s lunching with Baxter Collinson, the youngest—and most handsome—diamond thief. What she’s not expecting, however, is to get on with him quite so well. Attraction bubbles between them—and for once, on Mallory’s part, it isn’t an act. For the first time in her career, Mallory struggles with what she must do.

Can she ignore her heart for the sake of her career?

Available from:

Amazon (universal link): http://mybook.to/hidinginplainsight

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2u1kOf7

iBooks UK: http://apple.co/2va8OrW

iBooks US: http://apple.co/2u1h4vM

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2uAbYrT

Smashwords:  http://bit.ly/2u1epSU

Createspace: http://bit.ly/2u1hSB1

Add to Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35445935-hiding-in-plain-sight

*****

Excerpt:

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 they were practically screaming for attention.

Stupid, in Mallory’s opinion. If you were running an international diamond scam, 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 demanding oysters and caviar be 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 behaviour 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 realised what was happening, it was too late—their wrists were practically in the handcuffs, their arses 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. To be truly effective, Mallory needed to infiltrate the organisations at the top, gain their trust—or at least enough trust to allow her to snoop—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 organisation. 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 organisations, as well as being saved, would know that justice had been served 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 without being detected was almost impossible. They were smart.

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

A honey trap. It was Mallory’s mission 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 Amsterdam’s most exclusive hotel. 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 and the faithful type. 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.

So she would watch, and wait. Then as soon as she decided which one of the group was going to be her new boyfriend, she’d move in for the kill. Figuratively speaking, of course. Killing wasn’t her job. She was capable of it, and over the course of her career had ended more than one life in self-defence, or in order to protect others, but she was no cold-blooded murderer.

She was something much more dangerous; something that no one ever saw coming.

*****

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), The Persecution of the Wolves and Hiding in Plain Sight. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 160 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. Subscribe to her newsletter and get a free eBook: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter

Can historical accuracy get out of hand in a romance? #TinaDonahueBooks #PiratesPrize

When I decided to try my hand at historical romance, several author friends warned me to reconsider. They said reviewers and fans were purists, wanting everything in an historical romance to be letter perfect…as things actually were way back when. Pity the poor writer who makes a mistake.

Okay, I get it. And I agree to an extent. Historical tales should be grounded in reality. That is, you don’t have someone in the eighteen hundreds using a cell phone. When I was writing Loving Liesbook one in my Dangerous Desires series, I wondered if chocolate was available for the heroine who was a member of the aristocracy. Nope, it wasn’t. In 1488 Spain chocolate was unknown. As I was writing my story, I had to check foods that were available during that time. Clothing too. Unfortunately, there isn’t a lot of research material on Spanish fashion in 1488. Eventually, I had to check paintings from that period and I even read Don Quixote (though it’s not exactly that time period) to get some idea of what people wore.

So, I am aware of the importance of research. However, I’m not a purist. In my latest historical series Pirate’s Prize, the action takes place in 1717 on a lush, tropical island in the Indian Ocean. Yes, there are bugs and heat and mud and all that stuff, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to wallow in stings, sweating, and inconvenience to tell my tale. Frankly, in those days that was normal. People didn’t consider heat and insects a problem. So why mention them to the point of the tale having an ick factor? Contemporary romances don’t talk about menstruation or bathroom habits – at least none  I’ve read. Why should historical romances be so steeped in reality that it becomes a turn-off?

I haven’t, as yet, received a poor review because of historical accuracy, because I am careful. That said, I like a little magic with my romances. Sure, it’s not real life, but I’m not looking for that. I’m looking to escape.

My latest release Days of Desirebook 2 Pirate’s Prize, is available now.

Universal Buy Link

Blurb:

In a pirate’s lair, nothing is as it seems . . .

Shipwrecked! When Royce Hastings is found washed up on the shore of a verdant tropical island, he tells the natives he is a merchant headed for Mozambique. The truth, however, is far more mercenary. Noble by birth, the once favored Royce has lost his fortune and family; now he is a hired henchman on the trail of an elusive pirate. His “shipwreck” was a fake. He’ll stop at nothing to infiltrate the island and capture his prey. His mother and sisters’ lives depend on it.

The last thing Royce expects is to be captured himself. But the lovely young woman who tends to his wounds in the tropics quickly takes hold of his heart. Simone is the island’s healer, and her skilled ministrations not only awaken his soul but disturb his conscience. His path has been predetermined; his identity must remain concealed at all costs. Yet the passion he feels in Simone’s sultry, loving arms cannot be denied. With his loyalties torn, Royce must make an agonizing, unthinkable choice. . . .

Excerpt:

He squeezed past the door into the shadowed space. Simone’s fragrance surrounded him, the musky undertones muddying his brain.

She sat on the floor in the corner, grains, seeds, and berries to her side, spread out for the pigeons. They poked their heads through the metal slats in their cage and ate like gluttons. Chickens strutted freely, pecking their food.

Simone stood. The hens scattered. “Are you all right?”

Exhausted and aroused. “Fine.”

“You’re bleeding again.”

“Not much. You shouldn’t be doing this.”

Her chin trembled. “What? Speaking to you? Asking questions? You want me to be silent and unseen?”

He longed to be in her arms, comforted and warmed. Anchored to all the good he’d never really known. Her words proved true. This island had wonderful people. The best life had to offer. Nothing he deserved. “You’re a healer, not someone who tends chickens and birds. Peter should be doing this. Is he a lazy boy?”

She lowered her face, hiding her smile. “A surly one. He thinks he knows everything. Too many times, Diana has promised to thrash him.”

“Good for her. A proper man needs manners. Let me help you.” Eager to reach her, he strode recklessly.

A hen flapped its wings, going right and left to escape his crutch, its squawk ear-piercing. The other chickens scattered, many getting in his way. He twisted to keep from falling.

“Take care.” Simone slipped her arm around his waist, her precious breast pressed to his side.

Surrendering to loneliness and enchantment, he leaned in, his face to her hair. The English countryside couldn’t compete with her blessed scent. Nature had met its equal in her. He nuzzled her glossy tresses. No matter how wrong and irrational his desire, for some reason he’d found home at her side.

Pity he’d managed that too late.

He should have moved away but hadn’t the will.

She guided him to a bed nearly as large as the one in his chamber. This lavish room, like his, boasted a marble floor and whitewashed walls. A lovely place for a new life to take its first breath.

She laid his crutch to the side. “Sit before you fall.” Gently, she pushed him on the silk-covered mattress.

He made a show of falling down.

Her laughter pealed through the room.

Royce feigned insult. “Are you making light of me?”

“Oui.”

His laugh produced happy tears. “Have you no pity for a poor cripple?”

“I have never seen a stronger man.” She held her hands behind her, breasts thrust out, and swayed her hips slowly.

Aphrodite in the flesh. “Is that what you think of me?”

“What I know. You survived a storm that nearly tore our isle from the earth and flung it into the sky. You are no mere man. You are close to a god.”

He was a liar when honor demanded he do nothing to ruin anything here. He was a besotted fool when duty required he see to his family. His mother and sisters had no power to liberate themselves. Without his help, Katie, especially, would know nothing except a life spent in hard labor, cowering at harsh words, dreading the next beating or something equally horrible.

Simone cupped his face. “What is it? Is the pain bad again?”

The worse a man could face. Having to choose between angels: the one in here now with him, or those in his family who he’d been trying to save.

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