Tag Archives: Tina Donahue

Ever have too much of a good thing? #TinaDonahueBooks #Romance

We’ve all been there – indulging to excess when we shouldn’t. Whether it’s at a holiday feast, enjoying too many beers during a sports event, or partying a bit too hearty on the weekend. Wherever the extreme takes us, we start to regret it.

With that in mind, I wondered what it would be like to lust. I mean, way past the normal sense where you see a hot guy and think – damn, I want him. But to yearn constantly and endlessly without letup.

That’s the theme of my newest release The Yearning – carnal lust to the nth degree because of a curse.

I’ll let the blurb, excerpt, and teasers speak for themselves.


Book One – The Wanderers – Erotic Paranormal – October 24


Series Blurb:

The Wanderers – secretive, nomadic, steeped in the occult.

Beware the Wanderer who lusts. There is no freedom from their boundless carnal hunger. Hiding within plain sight, they walk among the unsuspecting, prepared to pounce. Only those with paranormal powers have a chance against evil so old and ruthless few have escaped its destructive end.

The Yearning Blurb:

To break this curse, they’ll have to turn the heat up. Way up.


Jasmine Dante prowls Key West’s nightlife, fighting a losing battle against a jealous rival’s curse that forces her to seek carnal pleasure, no matter the danger. Weakened from lack of sleep, driven by insatiable lust, she spots a man who stirs her desperate craving, and begins yet another dance of seduction.


Except the dark stranger who returns her direct stare is no ordinary lover. Inside his powerful body lies a raw sexuality that just might be enough to break her curse. There’s only one way to find out: imprison him in her bed and feed on his passion.


Former Deputy U.S. Marshal Mike Stearn is many things, but he’s no woman’s sex slave. The deadly telekinetic power he ruthlessly suppresses comes alive again at Jasmine’s touch. Beneath her bold, potent sensuality he senses vulnerability and desperation. He may be in handcuffs, but she’s the one who’s enslaved.


As Mike resurrects his power to free himself so he can find the curse’s source and defeat it, Jasmine revels in his masterful rule. Her ravenous yearning evolves into rapture as she surrenders to his hunger, her darkest needs—and the emotional connection that lies beyond. Unless the curse takes her life first…


You will want as I want. You will know insatiable lust, but no peace.

~Desiree Zazou

The curse drew Jasmine to this man as the road to hell seduces a born sinner. She walked in time to the music’s sensual beats. Inwardly, a part of her cowered. For him and what would soon come, she offered a welcoming smile.

He returned her greeting easily and took in her black halter dress. Its low-cut top and short skirt tantalized.

“Hi.” Her voice seemed throatier than she recalled, nothing like the woman she’d been. She leaned close so he could hear her above the band and caught his clean, soapy scent. Her thoughts derailed. She fought her compulsion to cup his face and brush her lips over his. “Mind if I join you?”

His gaze lifted from her black high-heel slides. Unashamed interest flickered across his face. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” He pushed to his feet.

She raised her face. Though she was tall like her father, her height was no match for his. He had to be six-three. Anticipation rippled in her belly. “In that case, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

“I doubt you will.”

His baritone soothed and enticed.

Her legs went watery. She sank to a stool and tried to hide her arousal. If he guessed what she had to have, he might grow wary and leave.

The band ended their set.

Still looking forlorn, the singer caressed her microphone. “We’ll be back in a few.”

Groans and protests rose from the crowd.

He ignored them and regarded Jasmine. “Thanks for the drink. What are you having?” He motioned for the bartender.

“Just a sip of your beer, if you don’t mind.” She couldn’t risk losing control by drinking. “I’m watching my weight.”

“False alarm.” He waved off the bartender and gave Jasmine his brew. “No, you’re not.”

She gripped the bottle. “What?”

“You don’t have to watch your weight.” He settled on his stool and studied her. “You’re fine just as you are.”

The old Jasmine flushed in delight and embarrassment. The woman she’d become gave him a feline smile. “If you say so.”

“What’s your name?”

The question rattled her when it shouldn’t have. She struggled to remember the fake one she and her sisters had concocted but came up with nothing except Jane Doe or Mary Smith, generic and unbelievable choices.

He waited.

Her cheeks burned. Never a good liar, she caved. “Jasmine Dante.” She offered her hand. “And you are?”

“Happy to make your acquaintance, Jasmine.” A roguish grin crinkled his eyes, mellowing his features. His large hand covered and warmed hers.

She liked his effortless confidence and calm strength. It recalled her father’s behavior with her mother.

He squeezed her fingers.

The small intimacy reached her soul, leaving her breathless and lighthearted. “So, do you go by Happy or do you prefer the more formal Make Your Acquaintance?”

He chuckled and released her hand. “Call me Mike.”

“Ah, a nickname. I like that; Mike…?” She sipped his brew, giving him time to add his last name and more.

He didn’t.

Unease seeped through her previous comfort. Travis had offered nothing except that he owned a body-piercing shop. He hadn’t confided his violent past. No matter her attraction to Mike or her cruel need, Jasmine couldn’t take another gamble on her safety. She had to find out about him, but how?

Perfumed flesh and liquor scents thickened the air. Animated chatter created a din near the tables. Someone laughed too loud. A woman squealed.

Jasmine gave him the bottle. “Are you a musician?”

He enjoyed a sip and shook his head. “Never came close, not even in high school when it’s more or less required to be considered cool.” He appeared amused. “Why would you think I played?”

“You haven’t noticed anything except the band. Is that why you’re here tonight?”

“I like their sound. What brings you here?”

“I thought going out tonight might be fun.”

A deeper smile tugged at his rich mouth. “It might be. So, tell me about yourself, Jasmine.”

Again, he’d taken command of their conversation, as a cop would. He acted like one, never answering a question. However, his long hair didn’t fit with the occupation, unless he worked undercover in vice. “You first. I insist.”

“Why?” He glanced at her breasts. “I’m not half as interesting as you.”

“Let me be the judge. Please.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Confusion? Fascination? He put the bottle on the bar. “My name’s Mike Stearn. I spend my days in front of a computer.”

Jasmine fought to hide her surprise. Of all the jobs she might have given him, none would have called for using a PC full-time. He didn’t look like a programmer or an Xbox junkie. “You’re a novelist?”

He laughed, an easy, rumbling sound. “I swear I don’t have a creative bone in my body.”

She smiled. “Then that leaves being a hacker. You’re a computer bad boy?”

His laughter wound down. He rested his arm on the bar. “Hardly. I’m an outside consultant for various federal and state agencies.”

That could include law enforcement. Her throat tightened. Not wanting to grill him too obviously, she wagged her finger. “Please tell me the IRS isn’t included in your work.”

“You cheat on your taxes?”

She gave herself to men she didn’t know to relieve her oppressive hunger, which put her in danger. Tonight’s plan was supposed to end that. “No, but if you could divulge a few tips on how I might get away with it, I’d be forever in your debt.”

“Sorry.” He ran his thumb over his mouth to tame his smile. “I have no affiliation with the IRS.”


His expression gave nothing away.

Anxious, she threw out guesses. “CIA?” No response. “DOD?” He didn’t even blink. “FHA?” He regarded her with increasing amusement. She played into it. “MTV? DVD? JD? CD—”

“Enough.” He put up his hand. His shoulders shook with laughter. “Before you go through every acronym you know, I will tell you this much—I used to be with the U.S. Marshals Service, all right?”

Jasmine nodded but worried his consulting work required him to carry a gun. That would play havoc with tonight’s plan.

She took him in. No weapon bulged beneath his shirt or by his jeans’ waistband.

A scar ran near his tattoo. The puckered pink skin looked frail and vulnerable on his sinewy arm. She touched the uneven surface. His muscle jumped. Compassion, rather than an indecent urge, weakened her. “Is this from a bullet? Did someone try to kill you? Is that why you left the Marshals Service and went into consulting?”

His features clouded, cautioning her not to pursue the subject. He grabbed the Dos Equis and finished a fourth.

Her spirits sank. Her need grew. She feared he’d leave because of her foolish questions.

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Writing historical romance ain’t easy… #TinaDonahueBooks #EroticRomance #Kensington

So why do I do it? Simple. I’ve always loved historical romances. I cut my teeth on Wicked Loving Lies by Rosemary Rogers and Shanna by Kathleen Woodiwiss. OMG, Shanna was so good. I read other books by the author but none were as great. There was something magical about Shanna that spoke to me on a deep and enduring level. I wanted to write historicals.

Before I accomplished my goal, I did take quite a detour. For those of you familiar with my work, you’ll know my forte is contemporary romantic comedy. Frankly, it’s super easy for me to write. Dialogue is a breeze and I have a snarky sense of humor that comes off well on the page.

With numerous romantic comedies under my belt, I moved on to erotic paranormals (both romantic comedies and suspense) then sci-fi and numerous other genres, However, I still wanted to try historicals.

I won’t lie – the research is grueling. Admittedly, I don’t know everything about the world I live in. However, I do know how to use a PC, smartphone, and whatnot, so I don’t have to look up every single thing I write. With an historical, you have to start from scratch. I have pages and pages of research on carrier pigeons. I had to know how long those critters could fly before they got pooped and dropped to the earth. Fun stuff like that.

Anyway, I penned a few historicals several years ago and they were well-received, but then I veered back into romantic comedy. Now, historical has captured my interest again. First, with my Dangerous Desires series last year – medieval erotic romance that took place in 15th century Spain and this year Pirate’s Prize, my historical series set in the early seventeen hundreds.

Days of Desire, book two, releases July 4. How’s that for a holiday gift for those of you in the States? Here’s the cover art, a blurb, an excerpt, and some teasers. Enjoy!

Days of Desire – Book Two -Pirate’s Prize

Available for Preorder – Ready to Read July 4



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. . . .


Simone’s heart beat faster. “Finish your bacon, please. While you eat, I should change the sheet.”

Royce chewed quickly, swallowed, and lifted his face, his lips nearly grazing her nipple.

She couldn’t imagine anything more pleasant than his mouth on her. “You can sit in the chair while I tend the bed. Let me help you to it.” She slipped her arm around his middle.

He favored his uninjured leg, brow furrowing, breath coming hard and fast.

She stroked his bandaged thigh. “Does it hurt?”

“Bloody right it does.”

He pressed her against the wall, imprisoning her wrists, his length molded to hers, cock snug to her mound. “You’re driving me mad. I can’t take any more of this. I won’t.”

He slanted his mouth over hers.

She surrendered willingly, joyously, accepting his tongue, melting into him.

His savage growl told her all she needed to know. He desired her.

She’d never been more alive.

His touch branded her soul, claiming it, marking her forever. She twisted free from his hold and wreathed her arms around his shoulders, her fingers buried in his silken hair to keep him near.

Their greedy and wild kiss turned tender and slow.

She ground her hips into his, needing to be closer.

He held her so tightly nothing could come between them. Boldly, he cupped her breast and thumbed her nipple.

Pleasure sped from every direction, filling her.

Forever wouldn’t have been long enough to enjoy him. He tasted salty from the bacon and glorious from a flavor that was his alone. His bristly cheeks rasped hers, the mild sting encouraging her to yield further. She longed to wake up each morning to him and this.

They only had now.

Whatever the future brought, Simone refused to dwell on loss. She’d willingly belong to him for a moment rather than have no time at all. In two or three months, she’d say good-bye. Not today.

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