Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Author Interview/Giveaway: Warlock's Pawn by Tara Quan

About the Book:

Delve into a fantastic world of political intrigue, magic, and a sword-wielding alpha male, in Book 1 of Tara Quan's new Captive Fates series. Who will survive as two women and one man fight for the right to rule in a world of blood and sand, where becoming a warlock's queen is a fatal curse? Inspired by The Arabian Nights, Warlock's Pawn is romantic suspense at its best.

Foreseeing the warlock's destiny, Alia saves the man her sister plotted to kill. He returns five years later to conquer her city. A pawn in a battle for desert waters, Alia resigns herself to a political marriage and an empty bed. But when Duncan demands more than just her name, she chances losing her heart along with her freedom.

Determined to reclaim her kingdom, Anora parlays her body to remain at Duncan's side. From within the Helicon court she spins her web, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Alia is all that stands between her and the throne. Her sister must cease to breathe before the warlock's affection wanes.

A master tactician, Duncan has no qualms about making Anora his courtesan and Alia his queen. But it is Alia's eyes that haunt his dreams, and she soon becomes his only weakness. With the perils that haunt the Helicon court, caring for the fey is absolute folly. A warlock's love is a fatal curse, and Alia's death will be his undoing.

Amazon buy link:

Author Interview:

What made you realize that writing was it for you? Do you write full time?

I remember reading a submission call for a “Zombie Fairy Tale” right around the time my husband and I were packing up to move to another country. All our possessions were boxed away, including our desktop computer. The deadline was in five weeks, and it was doubtful I’d finish the novella in time. Nonetheless, I started writing Tower in the Woods on my husband’s iPad. He watched me struggle with it for a few hours, left, and returned with a laptop. I remember him saying: “If you’re going to be a writer, you need something to write on.” Like most things, he knew what I wanted before I did.

Accepting a full-time job was the only way I could follow my husband to where we are now. I’m on month nine of a one-year contract. Once we return home in July, I’m going to give full-time writing a go for at least a few months.

What is a typical day of writing like for you?

I get most of my writing done on weekends. I’d wake up around eight and have breakfast. I usually slump on the couch and dawdle on my computer until at least nine-thirty. Once my brain fires up, I type away. I’m nudged at around one to grab a snack and some tea. I continue to write while Spartacus or The Office blares in the periphery of my vision until dinnertime. After dinner, my significant other convinces me TV is good for the creative process, and I begrudgingly shut off my laptop.

Does travel play in the writing of your books?

Definitely. Warlock’s Pawn is set in the desert because I lived in the Middle East for two years. My current work in progress is set in the Middle East and South Asia.

Which genre(s) do you write and is one of them your favorite?

I write romances exclusively. Within the genre, I’ve written a post apocalyptic romance and a fantasy romance. My work in progress is a contemporary romantic suspense. As a reader, my favorite genre is paranormal romance.

Tell us about your current release.

Warlock’s Pawn is the first book in my Captive Fates series. An erotic journey filled with deception and suspense, it’s a tale about a scarred warlock and fey princess who struggle to shape the destiny of a fantasy desert kingdom. While they plot and scheme to stay alive, the fall in lust and then in love with each other. More details, including reviews and consolidated buy links, can be found at http://taraquan.com/captive-fates/ . If I’ve piqued your interest, you can read the first chapter on Amazon (http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BW7BYLY)

Anything else you want to share?

Come visit my website (www.taraquan.com) for more about my writing. I’m also on Twitter (https://twitter.com/LaylaTarar) and Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/taraquanauthor).

As part of my virtual book tour, I’m giving away a $10 Amazon or B&N electronic gift card. To enter, use the rafflecopter below.

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Spotlight/Giveaway: The Count's Last Mistress by Bess Greenfield

The Count's Last Mistress (The Valencourts #1)
by Bess Greenfield
Historical Romance
Publisher: Self/Indie
Release Date: March 12, 2013
Heat Level: Steamy
Word Count: 91,000

Buy Links:


She set out to expose his true nature, but the secrets revealed were her own…

In the aftermath of war and revolution, cavalry officer Olivier Valencourt, the comte de Chaumenay, only wants peace. But his discovery of his deceased brother’s child in a Montmartre hovel leads to a battle of wills with the lovely but evasive American struggling to provide for him. Determined to gain custody of his nephew, Olivier sets out to win the audacious bohemian’s trust with patronage and patience, but her courage, wisdom, and innocent sensuality divert his agenda.

Painter Jeanne Delancy has good reason to despise the portrait-worthy count before she ever meets him. She believes he’s the man who seduced and deserted her friend long ago. Unfortunately, the talented and persuasive Olivier is hard to dislike or resist in person.

Conflicted by loyalty to her missing friend and her duty to the abandoned six-year-old she’s vowed to protect, Jeanne feels obligated to give the war hero the opportunity to prove he’s worthy of knowing his son. But the independent woman who thinks herself immune to temptation underestimates Olivier in many ways and reveals far more than she ever anticipates. While the strong-willed opposites struggle to reconcile their deepest longings, dangerous alliances and scandalous secrets threaten a tragic repetition of history.

Warning: This title is intended for readers over the age of 18 as it contains adult sexual situations and/or adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers.


The door opened, and the impersonal explanation he’d memorized vanished from his mind. He’d expected to see the lithesome, titian-haired beauty he’d known long ago in Burgundy. Instead, he encountered a petite brunette in a paint-smeared smock. There was also paint in one of the corkscrews of hair which had fallen free of her chignon. Something about the woman arrested him though he deemed her unconventionally pretty at best with her wide forehead, long nose, and dainty mouth. Perhaps it was her reaction to him. He could sense the frantic beating of her heart, and her golden brown eyes telegraphed wariness.

He regretted causing her distress and hastened to explain himself. “Good afternoon. I am Olivier Valencourt.” He bowed instinctively. “I’m looking for Claudine Ardaut, and I was informed she lived here. Is she at home?”

The young woman swallowed and hesitated, clearly debating her reply. “I am not familiar with anyone by that name.”

Her French was grammatically correct, but her accent revealed her as American. It surprised him to find a foreigner in Paris now. It was unlikely that she’d come here recently. The ruins of landmarks and homes and the mass burials of the executed made Paris a tourist destination only for those with a morbid taste for tragedy. She must have come before the war. There had been little warning when France declared war against Prussia. Many foreigners found themselves trapped inside the barricades along with working-class Parisians without the resources to leave.

“I was given this address by a reliable source,” he persisted. Instinct told him she was lying.

“Are you implying that I’m lying to you?” she asked in her slow, unnatural-sounding manner of speech.

“Certainly not. I was merely hoping you might know some little detail which would enable me to find her.”

Absently, she touched her face, leaving umber fingerprints upon her cheek. He felt an irrational urge to wipe the paint from her smooth, fair skin. She was pretty by any standard, he decided.

“Why are you looking for this woman? Has she done something wrong?”

“No. I’ve come on a personal matter.”

If anything, she looked even more defensive. Her enormous eyes filled with censure as if she knew what he’d done and the ramifications. The guilt he’d been trying to suppress for weeks finally assailed him. If only he’d kept his opinions to himself, so many lives might have turned out differently.

Her evasiveness maddened him. He only wished to complete his mission and be done with the whole matter, and she was keeping him from accomplishing that. He’d overcome far more challenging obstacles than a reticent female. He’d been good at persuading women at one time though he could scarcely recall those years now. Searching for some way to draw her out, his glance fell upon her voluminous smock. Sometimes the best strategy was the most obvious one. “You are a painter, I see. I recently came into possession of some property and could use some new art for decoration. Do you have anything for sale?”

She frowned, instantly suspicious. “Nothing is finished.”

“I know how you artists are. Nothing is ever completed to your satisfaction.” He took a step toward the threshold. “Why don’t you allow me to be the judge?”

She held her ground. “I’m certain my style would be too modern to suit your taste.”

She folded her arms about her waist, and his eyes were instantly drawn to her small form. She possessed a better figure than he’d thought, full round breasts and a tiny waist. A strange sort of agitation arose inside him. With astonishment, he recognized the sensation as lust. He hadn’t felt desire for so many months he’d feared he might never regain that part of his nature. Though he felt reassured that all was in working order, the inappropriateness of his irrational attraction irritated him. “And you know my taste.”

She surveyed his uniform from his polished boots to his fitted jacket with its neat rows of small gold buttons and black braiding. “You are an officer of some sort. A military man. I would guess you are conservative and view art primarily in terms of investment.”

He’d never given a second thought to art, but he didn’t appreciate her making assumptions about him. “There you are wrong. As it happens, I prefer more modern pieces. Besides, your refusal to let me judge your work only makes me more curious about it.”

About the Author:

Bess Greenfield grew up in Pittsburgh and graduated from Cornell University and University of Pittsburgh School of Law. Before coming to the conclusion that she should pursue her passion and become a novelist, she worked as a journalist for several newspapers, as a lawyer, and as a waitress (disastrously). She is a lifelong aficionado of romantic literature and currently lives in Northern Virginia with her husband, three children, and overly affectionate chocolate Labrador. When she is not dreaming up and researching new stories or driving her children somewhere, she enjoys traveling, walking in the forest, and adding to her growing collection of native Virginia plants. For more information about Bess Greenfield and her books, please visit www.bessgreenfield.com.


Prize is an eBook copy of "The Count's Last Mistress". Contest is tour-wide and ends May 5. Must be 18 years of age or older to enter.

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Saturday, April 27, 2013

Scavenger Hunt/Giveaway: See Me by Natalie Nicole Bates

Title: See Me
Genre: Paranormal Romance/ Horror
Flame rating: Hot
Released: October 2012
Publisher: Leap of Faith
Word count: 22,000

Buy links:


Carly Anders  is hearing voices in her head. Another one of her kind is trying to contact her. She knows of the malevolent freaks—others who are eternal like her and seek out the weak to inflict pain upon. For years, Carly has held up huge protective walls to keep herself and her secrets safe. Now, physically and mentally exhausted, Carly needs protection and rest.

She accepts the invitation to visit an internet friend who needs help appraising a collection of antique photographs.  The situation is not ideal, but Carly hopes a male presence in her life will deter the determined suitor who haunts her thoughts and dreams.

Daniel Tremont is not what Carly is expecting.

The former funeral director has a secret of his own. Not only is he eternal like Carly, he is her creation from all those years before—her abomination she thought she killed.

Daniel has been searching for Carly for years. He knows she is the piece of his life that he has been missing for so long. Now that he has found her, he has no intentions of letting her go.

The quintessential paranormal romance
5 Stars~Night Owl Reviews


First place- $25 GC to Amazon or B&N and a bottle of ‘See Me’ Perfume
Second and Third place- bottle of ‘See Me’ Perfume

Dates: 4/22/2013 thru 5/3/2013

Scavenger Hunt Instructions:

There are 11 (eleven) stops for this Scavenger Hunt. Each stop contains a picture/button with a letter on it. All 11 letters form a message or phrase that is associated with the book. The letters are scattered randomly to the hosts. You will need to collect all 11, unscramble them, and then enter the decoded message in the Rafflecopter for the ‘extra entries’. Good luck!

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About the Author:
Natalie-Nicole Bates is a book reviewer and author. Her passions in life include books and hockey along with Victorian and Edwardian era photography and antique poison bottles. Natalie contributes her uncharacteristic love of hockey to being born in Russia.

She currently resides in the UK where she is working on her next book and adding to her collection of 19th century post-mortem photos.

Visit Natalie online at www.natalienicolebates.com

Twitter: @BatesNatalie

Friday, April 26, 2013

Spotlight/Excerpt: The First Order by Peyton Elizabeth


Peyton Elizabeth currently lives in the Midwest. She has a very supportive family, which came in handy when she decided to switch her financial career of seventeen years to writing.

Like most authors, Peyton has been an avid reader all her life, and she has dabbled in writing since her early teens. To her, reading and writing are an escape from reality.  We all have those times when reality becomes too much, and we need something to lighten our hearts. Reading as always given that to her, but recently, Peyton was lucky enough to meet a man who was able to do that for her in a different way.  He has shown her that reality can be just as much fun as fiction.  As a mother, it's important to her to show her son that life is full of surprises and that we must cherish every day we are given.  Here's to lightening our hearts!

Release is only obtained after first being restrained...
COMING APRIL 29, 2013!

Becca Schuler has always fantasized about bondage, but does that really make her depraved? According to an ex-boyfriend, it does.

After losing her job, and with no way to pay her rent, Becca hits a local bar to drown her sorrows. The last thing she expects is to meet a mysterious woman who assures that she can make Becca’s dream a reality. Is there really a company called Safeword LLC that places submissive women with dominant men per their preferences on a simple application?

Knowing she has nothing to lose, Becca fills out the form on www.safewordllc.com. Her placement lands her in the sensual and strict hands of Lane and Ross Ellison, who train her to be their ideal submissive. But when Becca’s fear of not being perfect weaves its way into their lives, she sets out to be just that and unknowingly risks losing it all.


“Not quite,” Ross replied, leaning up against the door. He crossed his arms so that Lane knew he meant business. “What was up with you today?”
“Bullshit. You and I both know that Becca has a streak of insecurity a mile wide. It’s our job, as her dominants, to ensure that she feels safe with us. She needs to trust us—that’s paramount.”
“I’m well aware of that, Ross. I don’t need you to remind me.”
“Then what the hell is your problem? This week couldn’t have gone better if, well, we did plan it, but that’s beside the point. Becca’s exactly what we want, in a woman and a sub. Are you getting cold feet in regards to sharing her?”
“No,” Lane said, shaking his head. He, too, was going to wear a tuxedo. His brother sat down on the edge of his bed, leaning his elbows against his knees. Ross noticed Lane’s right hand was flexing as if he had his favorite stress ball from the office. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but it’s going too well.”
“Too well?”
“Yes, too well.” Lane contracted and expanded his hand some more. “Either Kennedy is that damn good at her job, or we fucking suck at finding women. Think about it, Ross. We decided two years ago that we were done playing around with subs from the clubs and started looking for someone that we can share. There was something wrong with every one of them, whether it wasn’t a physical match, emotional or mental. And then Kennedy gets wind that we still haven’t found the one and within two weeks, she brings us Becca.”
“For once in your life, Lane, could you just get with the program?” Ross pushed away from the door and took the few steps toward the middle of the room. “I really don’t want to lose her because you feel something’s too easy for a change.”
“Has there ever been a time in our lives where something was easy?” Lane finally stopped flexing his hand and looked up at Ross. “I’m having trouble adjusting to our business finally running smoothly, the Order about to ask us to serve on the executive committee, and us finding a woman who is our perfect submissive.”
“Not to burst your bubble, bro, but we still have an important meeting regarding additional assets under management next week, the Order hasn’t asked us anything as of yet because they are waiting to see how our two month trial goes with Becca, and as for her being ours—you better get your head out of your ass and help me make sure she remains ours.”
“Trust you to put everything in perspective,” Lane said, giving a light laugh. He finally stood and headed to his dressing room, calling back over his shoulder, “I’m still the older brother.”
“Whatever,” Ross replied, turning on his heels. He couldn’t wait to see what Becca looked like in the dress they picked out. Better yet, he couldn’t wait to see her face when they inserted her new toy. They had two more days before they could fuck her. There was no better time like the present than to get her ready for the two of them. “I still think Mom got us mixed up. You keep acting the way you are, and I’ll start diving into our old birth records to prove it. Now get your ass moving. I can guarantee our little sub is getting impatient.”


“Good morning, Sir,” Becca replied, her apprehension evident.
Lane felt his cock stirring at the uncertainty in her voice. It never failed to arouse him when a woman was unsure of what to say or how to act and then looked to him for direction. After Becca had turned in for the evening, Ross had gone over every detail of the time he’d shared with her. Lane was regretful that he’d missed out, especially when Ross described her first scene, but his business meeting couldn’t be rescheduled. This morning Ross was the one that had had to leave prior to Rebecca’s waking up. “I’m sorry Ross had to depart earlier. It’ll be just the two of us this morning.”
These two months were to be split into getting to know her and furthering her training. He and Ross had discussed her second scene, which would take place this evening, but he had the small task of verifying that she’d followed his orders last night. Once that was out of the way, Lane would take the rest of the morning meal getting to know her.
“Rebecca, come to me and stand in the display position.”
Again, Becca’s trepidation set his blood afire and his cock was now throbbing in need. While she didn’t falter in her walk over to him, he was well aware she wasn’t quite sure what he meant. There were many different positions she would learn and he would enjoy teaching her every one of them. Lane waited until Becca was directly in front of him before relieving her of her anxiety.
“Feet shoulder width apart with a straight posture,” Lane instructed, tapping his fingers on her thigh. The dress Becca was wearing hung a few inches below her pussy, allowing him unhindered access to her. “Your fingers should be linked behind your neck. Chin up and your eyes straight ahead. The majority of the time, when we ask that you take this position, you will be naked.”
Various expressions crossed Becca’s face. Lane couldn’t bring himself to look away from her communicative green eyes, as they appeared to be the windows to her emotions. At first, a fire seemed to ignite within them at his instructions. By the time she was in position, looking out over the panoramic view, Becca’s cheeks had more color and there was uneasiness displayed in her eyes. Had she done what he’d requested last night?
Utilizing his full access to her now, Lane deliberately took his time in lifting her dress. Slipping his fingers underneath the supple fabric, he slowly raised the material up until her bare pussy was on full display. The cleft between her legs couldn’t hide her swollen red clit or the dampness of her slit. Her apparent willingness to please them overwhelmingly satisfied the dominant raging inside of him. Becca’s sweet scent drifted up and he had to close his eyes at her delectable aroma.
“Very good, Becca. I’m pleased that you were able to follow orders.” Lane gently replaced the soft material over her thighs. He knew she probably expected him to touch her, or even go the extreme of giving her release, but Becca needed to be well aware of the disappointment she had generated by not obeying their first command. “Please, join me for breakfast.”


Q: What made you choose to write in the erotica genre?

A: Personally, I love erotica. When I was a little girl, I read every romance story I could get my hands on. It was by happenstance that I stumbled onto an erotica romance book during my late teens. Boy, was that an eye opener! It was like having sugar added to my coffee...addictive and sweet! Writing erotica, instead of reading it, is like having a gooey cinnamon roll with my must-have sweetened coffee.

Q: How do you come up with the sex scenes?

A: I don't always look at them as sex scenes...more like love scenes. And a person in love can get very creative, especially in bed (or out of bed)! I fall in love with the characters I create, which means it's easy for them to experience the titillating positions they find themselves in.

Q: How do you come up with the titles to your books?

A: The title of a book usually comes to me about halfway through the story. It can be sparked by a word, a scene, or by one of my characters.

Q: Which do you enjoy more, writing a stand-alone book or a series?

A: In my opinion, there are pros and cons to both. With a stand-alone story, I can create the characters and the storyline without having to think beyond their "happy ending." Unfortunately, my secondary characters do not get their "happy ending"...well, maybe not on paper, but they do in my mind! In a series, I enjoy seeing where my older characters are months or years down the road. But every word and action they take impacts any future stories for my secondary characters. I tend to be more cautious when writing my series versus a stand-alone book.

Q: Do you remember your first book?

A: Oh yes! I was around nineteen when I wrote an entire novel that had romance, mystery, and science fiction all intermingled. I was so proud of my accomplishment, I even had the manuscript bound in this burgundy hardback cover. Unfortunately, my sister thought it was junk and threw it away! Needless to say, I was devastated and if I bring it up today, she still swears she had nothing to do with it. Oh well, sisters will be sisters!

Guest Post/Excerpt: A Little Bit of Magic by M.J. O'Shea

Hey there! I'm M.J. O'Shea, and I just wanted to share an excerpt from my current book, A Little Bite of Magic, that comes out April 30th from LooseId!!

In a family full of powerful witches, Frankie Vallerand is the black sheep. He doesn’t care about honing his magic. All he wants is to open up a restaurant and spend his days serving up delicious food. But when he sees a customer crying and wishes for her to be happy, he inadvertently transforms his old wooden soup spoon into a wand, and realizes that maybe a little bit of kitchen magic is just what his customers need.
Addison Allbright is The Phantom Foodie, an anonymous food critic notorious for his scathing reviews. For most people, being paid to eat would be a dream job. Not for Addison. He doesn’t care for overpriced designer food. He’s a tea and toast kind of guy. Until both the food and the owner of L’Osteria Di Pomodoro sweep him off his feet and throw his neat, orderly life completely off-kilter.
Frankie isn’t sure how to tell Addison he’s a witch, or that he charmed Addison’s food the night they first met, without sounding totally crazy. But little does he know that Addison has secrets too. Not only did he snark Frankie’s restaurant in his last review column, he’s also engaged to be married…to a woman.

Frankie Vallerand has just purchased an old dilapidated restaurant. It might look like a rat infested hole, but he thinks it's perfect…. With a little touch of magic.
* * * *

The old place needed some work. That much was certain.
Frankie cringed at the sagging turn-of-the-century plaster walls. They’d faded over time into a color something like that of an old, worn-out sock. Not what he’d call appetizing. The floors hadn't fared much better—speckled linoleum, worn away in the corners and riddled with small, suspicious bite marks. He didn’t want to think too hard about the bite marks. Probably rats. Frankie hated rats.
A pitted aluminum door at the threshold between the dining area and his future kitchen swung back and forth on one rusted hinge. It swayed precariously in a brisk afternoon breeze that suddenly swept through the building. Frankie gave the heavy old door a gentle push, afraid it might come off its remaining hinge completely. It would be his luck to have the behemoth fall off and land on his foot. Frankie didn’t have the time for injuries, didn’t have time for anything that could get in his way.
There was magic to be done.
At least the kitchen was large—perhaps a bit too large for one cook, but Frankie couldn't complain. It had cavernous ceilings—which must have been hidden in the main room by those awful mildewy acoustic tiles. Those tiles would be the first on his list of things to go. A huge pot rack hung, rusted and barely grasping the hook screwed into the ceiling nearly twenty feet above. The floor was flagstone, and the sinks deep and cast iron. The ancient beast of a stove top might have looked archaic, but it was exactly what Frankie wanted, lit from below by a wood fire for that old-world, homemade taste. He loved the brick walls and the big old wood-fired brick oven.
The butcher-block island just needed a little (or perhaps a lot of) elbow grease, and it too would be perfect...someday.
But it was no wonder why he’d gotten the old restaurant so cheap.
“Isn’t it great, Dom?” Frankie turned to look at his best friend from culinary school. He didn’t need to hear Dom’s answer; his skepticism could be felt thick in the air.2       M.J. O'Shea
“You’re nuts, Frank. This place is a rat trap.”
Dom had come along for moral support. Some kind of support. Frankie elbowed him in the side. “No, it’s L’Osteria di Pomodoro.” Frankie had come up with the name years ago when he’d been surfing the Net, looking for cooking-school applications and dreaming the far-off fantasy of owning his own restaurant.
Dom snorted. “More like L’Osteria di Shithole.”
Frankie pushed him. “Screw you. I didn’t stomp all over your dream of becoming a corporate food minion.”
“But dude, you’ve got powers. You wouldn’t have to be a minion. You could be a corporate food god.”
Frankie shot Dom a quick glare. “Hey! Ix-nay on the owers-pay, right? You know I wasn’t supposed to tell you about that.” Damn, he wished he hadn’t told. No one was supposed to know, family rules and all that. It wasn’t like he used his powers anyway, at least the few he'd managed to inherit.
“But can’t you do all that woo-woo shit?” Dom made a wiggling motion with his fingers. “You want me as head chef. Hire me today,” he intoned.
Truth was, it was harder to charm humans than most would think. They were pretty stubborn creatures. Besides, he didn’t want to go that route. Much to his family’s chagrin, Frankie had left Louisiana and his big overbearing family for the West Coast at nineteen. He didn’t plan on returning to the South, or his family, anytime soon. Making gorgeous food was the only magic Frankie was interested in.
“I told you, I'm not doing that stuff anymore. I also told you I’m not supposed to talk about it. You never listen to me.”
Dom snorted. He picked up a mangy old wooden spoon and dropped it back onto the butcher block. A puff of dust exploded into the air and practically danced, glimmering in the afternoon sun that streamed in from the high casement windows. “It’s not my fault you’ve got loose lips after a shot or two of PatrĂ³n.”
Frankie sighed at the memory of the very convincing demonstration he’d given Dom of his powers. He’d acted like a flaming moron that night and had paid the price dearly with his family the next day. It really wasn’t his fault, he’d tried to reason with himself as his mother had given him the tongue-lashing of the century. Witches didn’t have a high alcohol tolerance. And as much as he tried to deny it, that’s what Frankie was and always would be.
A witch.

If you liked it, here's where to read more:)

About the Author:

I’m Mj O’Shea, author of erotic romance–well all sorts of romance actually, that’s just what’s been published so far!
I grew up, and still live, in sunny Washington state and while I love to visit other places, I can’t imagine calling anywhere else home.
I spent my childhood writing stories. Sometime in my early teens, the stories turned to romance. Most of those were about me, my friends, and our favorite tv stars. Hopefully, I’ve come a long way since then…
Right now, I have four books published through Republica Press, but I’m constantly working on new projects.

When I’m not writing, I love to play the piano and cook and paint pictures…and of course read. It’s nearly impossible to work on my own writing when I’ve gotten myself hooked into a great new book:) I like sparkly girly girl things, own at least twenty different colored headbands, and I have a little white dog with a ginger eye spot who sits with me when I write. Sometimes she comes up with ideas for me too…when she’s not napping.

And here are my links!