Saturday, November 30, 2013

Lisa Fox

Please welcome today's guest author, Lisa Fox, announcing her new release:
Sinfully Yours Release Blitz & Giveaway!!
Hi Everyone!
I am thrilled to announce the release of my Quickie erotic romance SINFULLY YOURS!

To celebrate, I am giving away a copy to one lucky commenter on my blog. Head over to LISA FOX ROMANCE ( between now and Monday, November 25, 2013 to enter!

Mardi Gras is a time of debauchery, the “last hurrah” for all the sinners before Lent begins on Ash Wednesday. Bailey is on a mission to wallow in some serious carnal delights, and Bourbon Street is chock-full of options.
When a handsome military man appears at her side, she knows he’s the one for her. Beads are exchanged, flesh exposed, but their night of sinfully wicked lust ends with the coming of the dawn.
Bailey has the chance to keep the passion alive, as long as she has the courage to take the chance of a lifetime.
A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave 


Copyright © LISA FOX, 2013

All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

A roar of cheers and applause exploded from somewhere down the street and Bailey smiled. Someone must have shown something very, very good. She toasted the night with the remnants of the cocktail she had picked up before hitting Bourbon Street. The sharp kick of cheap vodka burned pleasantly as it slid down her throat. She put the empty cup aside, balancing it on top of a garbage can already heaped with at least twenty others. The alcohol went straight to her head, and she laughed as beads rained down out the sky. Music blasted from the Cat’s Meow speakers, a pulsating beat that commanded the crowd to dance. With no desire to resist, she moved her hips to the rhythm, letting herself get carried away.
“I think I just found my new favorite song,” a man said from somewhere beside her.
He had a deep voice, a panty-melting baritone, and she was already smiling as she turned toward him. What she found only made her smile wider. He was tall, well over six-feet, with close-cropped caramel-brown hair, and blue-gray eyes. With his ramrod-straight spine, firm body and air of tightly controlled dominance, he had to be military. She met his gaze and a prickly thrill tiptoed down her spine. This was a most fortuitous turn of events.
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About Lisa:

World-renowned neurosurgeon, jet fighter pilot, secret member of American royalty, seducer of legions of beautiful, outrageously sexy angels and demons and vampires and werewolves and the occasional pirate, Lisa Fox has done it all…in her own mind. In reality, she can generally be found at her desk with a cup of coffee close at hand. Or maybe a martini. It really depends on the day.
Feedback, comments, opinions, words of wisdom, chocolate cake and the addresses of super hot men are always appreciated and encouraged. Please feel free to contact Lisa any time.

Twitter: @LisaFoxRomance

Monday, November 25, 2013

Jan Meredith's debut: PLAYING DOCTOR

So pleased to have Jan Meredith drop in on me today, to spotlight her debut romance novel, PLAYING DOCTOR for Entangled Flaunt!

PLAYING DOCTOR/Entangled Flaunt
By Jan Meredith

When a fellow RN jokingly predicts that Beth Roberts will meet a tall, ripped and totally lick-o-licious stranger who will fulfill her deepest desires, it’s supposed to be from across a crowded room, not giving CPR to a wedding guest. Given her tragic love life, Beth has no desire to become involved again, but who could have predicted the ponytailed doctor with the mischievous smile would break through her defenses?

Dr. Gabriel North blamed himself for his wife’s death. Now, after two years of battling guilt and meaningless hookups, he’s ready to move on. When he sees the sexy brunette at his friend’s wedding, his attraction is swift and strong, and he wastes no time in pressing his advantage. One night with the woman who makes him feel alive again isn’t enough, but gaining her trust is going to take more than medical school has prepared him for.
He worked the button at her waistband free, pulled the zipper down and drove his hand inside. His fingers slid over her sex once, twice, and then plunged deep. Her body quaked, her inner walls grasped and squeezed at his fingers, but it wasn’t enough.
“More,” she moaned. “I need…I’ve got to have my hands on you.” Beth tugged his shirt free of his slacks, keenly aware of the thick column of his cock pressing against his fly. She plunged her hands under the soft fabric, smoothed her palms up the firm ridges of his abdomen. She pressed her hand to his chest, just over his heart, felt the gallop and pitch of it beneath muscle and bone.
For her.
She was in so much trouble and she didn’t give a flying fig. Right now, at this moment, all she cared about was this man, and that he was here, standing before her. Wanting her.
            His forehead fell to hers, his breathing ragged and uneven. He pulled her hand from his cock, grasped her hips and dragged her in, grinding his erection against her upper abdomen. “I’ve dreamed about you, woke up with the taste of you in my mouth.”
            Her breath caught in her throat. “I’ve dreamed about you, too. Of your mouth, your tongue on me.” She shuddered against him.
            “God, Beth.”
            “I came, but it wasn’t enough. It’s not enough now. I need you…inside me. Right here, right now.”
            “Fucking hell!”        
Had she not known it was lust that caused his fingers to bite into her hips, Beth would have been frightened, but she knew she was safe. By the way his eyes burned with it, the way his shoulders heaved as he fought for control, by the way his touch gentled, she knew. The hollow feeling in her chest filled to overflowing, sealed over, and healed. A new sensation crept in and tapped at her heart. Open up, it beckoned, and see what awaits.
Fabric shifted, just enough to accommodate. Beth toed off her shoes, slid her slacks and panties down to kick one leg free. Gabe fought his belt open, yanked down his zipper and shoved his slacks over his hips. His cock sprang free, heavy and full.
He bent his knees, cupped her ass in his hands and hoisted her up. “Hang on to me. I’m sorry. This is going to be fast,” he apologized and reached between them to align the rigid length of his cock between her thighs. “Ah, damn, you’re so wet,” he gritted, and then slid into her.
Beth buried her face against his neck, ran her tongue along the line of his jaw. His body shuddered. She wrapped around him, wound her arms around his neck, squeezed her legs around his hips and held him there. He was thick and hard and she thought she’d come from the sheer bliss of having him inside her again. He pulled back, all the way to the tip, and, when he thrust back in, the door rattled on its hinges.
They both froze.
Beth sucked in a breath. “Oh, God, as much as I’d love for you to do that again—”
Gabe’s forehead banged against the door. “You’d hate to get fired for getting fucked  against my office door.” He turned, moved to the side and braced his back against the wall.
Beth glanced around the small room, her gaze landing on the desk. Gabe laughed, causing his cock to flex and pulling a moan from her throat.
“Baby,” he rasped, “there’s nothing I’d like more than to bend you over that piece of furniture and take us both to heaven, but unless it’s nailed to the floor…”
“Oh, God.” The image he painted, pushing over the desk, driving into her…her pussy clenched.
“Ah, fuck! Squeeze me like that again,” he panted. “Just…hold on to me.” Widening his stance, Gabe grasped Beth’s hips and lifted her, angling his pelvis up as he brought her back down hard on his shaft. Then he did it again.
“Gabe, that’s…oh, I…just don’t stop!” Each pause was punctuated with another lift and thrust.
“No way in hell. Just don’t scream when you come.” And then he moved, lifting, lowering, rotating his hips to find that sweet spot that drove her wild.
It started in the soles of her feet—that sizzle of electricity signaling her orgasm. It snaked up her legs, curled around her inner thighs, and with a low keening sound, Beth buried her face in Gabe’s neck and welcomed it as it speared her clit with an orgasm that clung to every inch of Gabe as he drove into her. He was right with her, his breath a harsh hiss against her ear as he thrust deep and held her tightly against him.
The soft brush of Gabe’s lips over her sweat-dampened temple was in stark contradiction to the choppy breaths lifting his chest against hers. “I’ve missed you, missed this,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Me, too.” After a moment, when she’d caught her breath, Beth lifted her head and said, “We really…”
“Need to talk,” he sighed. “I know.”

Buy Links: Amazon | B&N 

Jan Meredith has been a romance junkie since her teens. When she isn't penning steamy stories about strong-willed, independent women and the sexy men who love them, she works as an Infusion Therapy nurse. She lives near Mammoth Cave, KY with her husband (and former high school sweet heart) Tommy.
You can learn more about her at her web site: 
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Saturday, November 23, 2013

A little FROST for your pumpkins...

Let's visit with the super sexy HOT-tastic Max Raines today...just...because...

Everyone needs a hunky fire-sex demon in their lives, don't you think?

 Chapter Two

“You must come in, sir.”

Max Raines stared at his canvas through narrowed eyes, not quite absorbing the words of his majordomo. Fever clouded his head; his body temperature spiking off the charts. Desperate for release, he stood, legs apart, atop the windswept bluff comprising the only wall-less boundary of his compound in Sleepy Hollow. Below, the green waters of the Hudson boiled. The stark cliffs of the Palisades, fringed with ragged trees, rose with dark majesty from the banks on the other side of the river, to the west and south, jutting into cloud-filled heavens. An ominous gray sky seemed low enough to touch. He couldn’t capture any of it. Not in any way that satisfied him.

“Damn it. Still not right.” A gust swirled the tails of his paint-spattered linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his biceps, in a manner more suited to the dog days of August than the chill gloom of February.

“You haven’t eaten in two days. And the wind’s kicking up. Nor’easter brewing.” Bryce Blackburn put more iron insistence into his words this time. “Time to call it a day.”

Max tore his gaze away from the unacceptable painting at last. Irritated, he tossed his brush, a No. 10 bright, the hog bristles thick with cadmium green, onto the palette. Only the unfinished landscape stood between the predatory beast pacing with increasing agitation inside him and the rest of the world. His muse had deserted him.

“You picked a fuckin’ fine time to leave me, Lucille.”

Christ. Channeling Kenny Rogers? Who’s next, Justin Bieber?

Instead, the hard-driving intro of the Stones’ classic, “Satisfaction,” popped into his head. The unwelcome earworm taunted him. Yeah. He couldn’t get no. That’s for fuckin’ sure.

Raines dragged a finger around his collar, popping open the top button. If he couldn’t achieve release soon, he’d go mad. Jacking off into his fist gave him insufficient gratification. Human women proved too delicate and fragile, too breakable. Demons glommed onto him, far too needy, attaching themselves with the tenacity of barnacles, draining him of inspiration and clinging long past their expiration dates. He’d learned from bitter experience he could crisp any woman he touched. The infamous Maxwell Raines: a six-foot-six, two hundred twenty-five pound hunka burning love. And now I’m channeling Elvis.

Odd, all things considered. Usually he exhibited no more of a musical bent than he did humor. And in light of the bland landscape he’d committed to canvas, he had nothing to be whimsical about.

His heat, his ardor, his raging libido—all of them had to be expelled from his head and his body and poured into his work. But the painting before him remained flat, emotionless, devoid of his usual sensuality and passion, further frustrating him but offering no relief from the devils that plagued him and the sexual beast that howled within.

Standing patiently beside him, Blackburn shifted from foot to foot, clearly aware of his inner turmoil. The majordomo stamped his boots on the frost-glazed lawn and blew on his knuckles. At least one of them couldn’t get warm enough.

Without Blackburn, he’d be a total recluse. But the other man had been with him for years, knew his secrets, his needs, served him in every capacity from butler to valet to nanny. More family member than servant. He even acted as manager and art agent, most recently arranging the exhibit at the Night Gallery.

Now, he held out his employer’s overcoat, a muffler and a pair of leather gloves. Max turned to face him and met the other man’s eyes full on.

Blackburn whistled, but had the good grace not to recoil. “They’re red.”

“Can’t cool down.”

“Not a good sign.” Blackburn removed one of his own gloves and touched Raines’ bare forearm, then drew back as if his fingers had been singed. “Fever again.”

“Through the fucking stratosphere.” He brushed his hand through his hair.

“You’re getting worse, Max.”

Raines acknowledged the other man’s statement by packing up the art supplies. He hoisted the easel onto his shoulder. “Mind carrying my coat?”

“I’d carry you if I thought that would help.” Though no 90-pound weakling himself, no one would mistake Blackburn for The Incredible Hulk either. The smaller, slighter man eyed his employer up and down, craning his head to do so. Raines had at least half a foot on him and a lot of muscular poundage. “But I doubt I could without my knees buckling.” He stuffed Raines’ gloves in a jacket pocket. “There’s still some decent light in the studio…if you must keep at it.”

Max snorted but didn’t reply.

“The painting’s not helping?”

“Not going well.” He shifted the easel to a more comfortable position on his shoulder.

Blackburn opened his mouth then shut it again. But they knew each other too well. He considered his assistant a friend.

“Spit it out, man.”

The majordomo frowned. “You realize the paintings are getting darker and darker? More—”


“I was going to say sexual.”

“Same thing in my case, isn’t it?”

Amazon |Barnes&Noble |Decadent|KoboARe| Smashwords | BookStrand | CoffeeTime

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Howdy, Pilgrim Cornbread Puddin'


1 can creamed corn 
1 can kernel corn
1 c. sour cream (8 oz.)
3 beaten eggs
1 stick butter (or margarine)
1 box Jiffy corn muffin mix

Preheat oven to 350
°. Grease 1-1/2  or 2  qt baking dish.
Pour butter and corn into mixing bowl (or the casserole you'll bake it in; it doesn't really matter, unless neatness counts!)
Blend in sour cream.

In separate bowl, beat eggs and stir into corn mixture. Add muffin mix and mix.

Bake 1 hour (or less) at 350.°

Don't burn it. Keep checking. It's better moist and creamy inside, golden brown, with slight crust on top. It's done when the center is firm and a knife or toothpick comes out more or less clean.

Friday, November 8, 2013

HEAT WAVE in Affaire de Coeur!

Last month Affaire de Coeur magazine featured a contest for scaries book cover.  Most of my covers are smokin' hot couples....soooooooooo not scary! But SLEEPY HOLLOW DREAMS features a raven perched on a cemetery headstone. Not an enormous field of entries but 127 votes later... and it won!

I thank all of you who helped out with your votes!

The prize was a featured chapter preview in the November Affaire de Coeur.

I picked HEAT WAVE, Book 4 of my SLEEPY HOLLOW 1Night Stand series. The chapter needed to be G-rated. And that was not easy!

Here's the full chapter excerpt: 

Zena had not been to Duyvil Tand in ages and had forgotten how intimidating Devil Tooth could be.

Upon their arrival outside the Grand Hall of the Queen's court, twin heralds blew an unsettling fanfare on goats' horns. Bhyrne escorted her through the enormous double doors hacked from granite and inlaid with carved ore and semi-precious stones in a mosaic of cryptic demon symbology.

Banners embroidered with the devices of the noble families hung from the ceiling. Tapestries depicting scenes from the Antynonium, the underworld book of history and theology, graced the walls. Torches burned in sconces set like sentinels at uniform intervals. Acrid hints of sulfur and brimstone masked by vague perfumes of incense wisped up her nostrils.

The dark, majestic effect intimidated and inspired awe. But most sinister and hideous of all were the scores of demons lining the cavernous room, undisguised by the veneers-sometimes called glamours-of the human forms they so often adopted. Their expectant gazes riveted upon her with something akin to bloodthirsty glee. And arousal. In more cases than she had the fortitude to count, several demonic hands grasped groins, jiggling erections that tented robes and other creepy underworld attire.

Upon a raised dais that increased her dominion and authority over the gathering, Queen Velda perched on a throne constructed of skulls, iron spikes and, a bit incongruously, jewels.

That can't be comfortable.

"Approach." Velda beckoned her closer with an imperious gesture, but held up her hand when Bhyrne also stepped forward, Zena's arm tucked securely within the crook of his. "Not you, savaghy. Your service with regard to your current assignment is, for the moment, concluded."

"I would stay, My Queen." He inclined his head briefly.

Her sharp gaze narrowed as she examined him from head to toe. "Your state does not escape me, savaghy."

A muffled titter from the cluster of demons ringing the room confused Zena. She tamped down her gag reflexes and shut her eyes to the pool of drool disgorged onto the marble floor by an expectoritus demon, apparently overcome with lust. Gah. She sidled away from the growing slick of slobber and stepped closer to the sweating fire-sex demon beside her.

Her action drew a pointed frown from the queen, who fixed her attention on the enforcer once more. "Attend to yourself," she rebuked him. The pitch of her voice lowered an octave. "Or I will." The husky quality of her tone left no question as to the form the queen's ministrations might take.

"I will remain until this audience is over." The guardsman's voice, deep and iron-willed, rose above another ripple of titillated amusement from those in attendance, defying the direct order. "Your Majesty."

"You will be disciplined for your disobedience, savaghy."

"So be it."

"Go, Bhyrne," Zena urged in a soft whisper. "Whatever this is, I can handle it. I don't want you punished because of me."

"Too late for that, princess. You'll torment me for eternity."

She barely heard his murmur as the queen once more raised her hand and compelled her forward. Zena's hand slipped away from the enforcer's forearm, as if it had a will of its own. She took three steps forward. The same compulsion forced her to her knees before the throne, her face bare inches from the spread thighs of the queen's consort, a forest demon whose wood bulged beneath loose trousers.


Despite the charmed hold, she managed to crab-creep backward, putting more space between her and the royal consort before she raised her head to look at the queen.

The other succubus, once insanely beautiful and possessed of the ability to drive mortals to madness, remained a handsome female still. She'd aged well, but wore her history like an ermine robe. Her dark eyes drilled knowingly into Zena. Power encased her.

"Your ingenuity, creativity, energy, and drive have pleased us in the past, moshula. You have been a credit to the family, beloved get of my late sister."

Great. Maybe she'd survive her present circumstances and the queen's summons didn't portend something so bad after all. Although the reminder of her mother, the former queen who had more than dabbled in evil, and whose fate had not been pretty, served as a cautionary tale. Had Zena not been sent to the Nights for fostering, and had the Nights not adopted her and raised her as their own, along with Lily and Dagney, she might have been wasting away in demonville for decades, searching for her lost shaker of salt. And hell knew what might have become of her then.

"Thank you, Majesty," Zena whispered, momentarily chastened, presenting the picture of a respectful subject.

"But you've done nothing to fortify or ensure the future of the royal line. You are aging. You have no consort. No one will lie with a succubus grown so long in the tooth. You will be unable to provide me with the mortal souls and energy I require to survive."

Long in the tooth! Why, I'm barely-Zena shut her eyes, suddenly certain what would come next.

"You thirtieth birthday fast approaches."

She nodded dumbly, uncharacteristically robbed of words. A faint rustling came from somewhere behind her, as if the fire-sex demon shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Have you taken a mate?" The queen's words fell like thunder.

"You know I have not, Your Majesty," she said, her mouth drained of moisture, so dry her ability to achieve speech remained a mystery.

"Then you must choose."


"From one of the males now assembled in the throne room."

An eruption of shouts and applause thundered from the peanut gallery, battling for ascendancy with the hissed inhalation of breath from the enforcer behind her. Somehow, he had stepped forward without notice during the explosion of excitement greeting the queen's pronouncement.

Zena dragged her gaze around the grand hall, resting her eyes on the assembled demons, one being more repulsive than the next. So that explained their excitement, the barely contained evidence of their arousal.

"They have come far and wide, from every corner of the demon realms, to vie for your hand, you lucky girl."

The array of eligibles horrified her. Without their veneers, they were a cornucopia of scales and wings, webbed feet and horns, plates and scabs, oozing sores and festering blisters, of slaver and other filth, of slime and slither, and fangs longer than the Washington Monument. She'd retch if she had to touch one of them. Bed one? Mate one? Never. She'd never survive.

The air sapped out of her lungs, depriving her brain of oxygen, making her light-headed and dizzy. Please don't let me faint. Please don't let me faint.

"I've got your back, princess." Bhyrne rose like a monolith behind her. A hot, living wall of security separating her from the gruesome collection of would-be suitors. "Always."

His words-and the recollection of his own recent defiance of the queen-lent her sudden strength. Could she take him at his word? Could she outwit Velda somehow?

Bhyrne is one of the males in the room.

Could she mate him? Make him her own? Would he be willing? Could she convince Velda to let her try?

"I still have a little time then, don't I? My birthday is not for two days."

"Yes, yes." The prime leader of the succubi waved her hand with impatience. "That is my point."

"So you will allow me two days to choose my consort?"

Velda sighed, as if she'd been deprived of her evening's entertainment. "Forty-eight hours. But you'd better make it snappy. You're not getting any younger, Zena."

Zena paced the length and width of her luxurious suite in the royal apartments of Duyvil Tand, her teeth worrying her lower lip in panic.

Where had they taken Bhyrne?

Immediately following Queen Velda's decree, two of her regal guardsmen had seized him, dragging him from the throne room. To his credit, he'd struggled and shouted, but even a male of his generous size could not overcome the strength of the soldiers, each even brawnier and beefier than he. Plus, they were fully armed. Even if the fire-sex demon had hidden an entire arsenal beneath his damp and wrinkled Hugo Boss suit, they'd bent and twisted his arms behind his back, restraining him so he'd never be able to reach any weapons. She did not want to think about the punishment they might be inflicting on him.

Goddess. The way he'd stepped up to the plate for her and defied the queen, knowing, as an enforcer, the full consequences of his disobedience...such an absolutely worthy male. So incredibly, effin awesome.

Her own predicament faded as she contemplated his. She'd never met anyone like him in her life. Solid. Strong. Dependable. Protective. Sexy. And gorgeous. Hotter than a blazing inferno.

She had to find him. Save him, if possible. Have him whiff them both the hell out of Demon Central. She would not rest until the massive doors of Duyvel Tand thumped them both in the ass.

After pacing back and forth a few more minutes, trying to concoct a game plan, she decided to contact her sisters. Cell phone service in her room, deep within the mountain, faded in and out at best, but she dared not stroll around the palace seeking more bars and a better connection-and encouraging sex-crazed demons to pop out of the woodwork and jump her bones. After a few fits and starts, dropped words here and there, she managed to get Lily on the line and communicate her circumstances.

"Let me patch in Dag and call you right back," her youngest sister said.

The return call came a few minutes later, with both succubi on the line.

"Here's what we're going to do," Lily said. "Remember how you and Dag staged that ‘intervention' in my office and signed me up with the 1Night Stand agency? Thanks to you guys and Madame Evangeline, I found Campbell again. Well, Dag's contacted Madame Eve. We've registered you with 1Night Stand. Because this is an emergency and time is of the essence, and because Madame Eve was so successful with Dag and Max, and me and Campbell, and because we've vouched for you, Madame Eve has agreed to forego some of the details in the questionnaire. We've already filled in the parts we could for you. You're all set up. It's a definite go. The date will happen ASAP. We know you'll find a mate."

Okay. Not exactly what she had in mind, but...Dagney and Max, and Lily and Campbell, were outstanding together, the best evidence that the exclusive dating service worked, no matter how grave or complicated the problem. In all matters of love and sex, Madame Eve came to the rescue. Results guaranteed. Zena heaved a sigh of semi-relief.

"Thanks, you guys. Best. Sisters. Ever." Pausing, she took another breath. She might be set...but the enforcer remained in danger. "Is Max there?"

His deep voice rumbled in her ear. "Right here, Z."


"Ran down some connections and found Bhyrne for you. As luck, fate and happy coincidence would have it, he's in the same wing, on the same floor."

This time her sigh held every grain of hope she'd ever dared dream.

"Though they did have him in the dungeon awhile, according to my sources." Max's voice wavered slightly. "He's been worked over pretty good, Z. So take it easy with him. Here's the passcode for the door." He murmured a series of numbers, which she scribbled onto a gum wrapper she found in her purse.

"And Zena?" Max cleared his throat. "I don't know if you've noticed how hot he is...."

"Oh, hells, yeah. I've definitely noticed that."

"Not what I mean. I'm talking about his actual body heat...not his, um, looks. Because of what he's going through, I set him up with 1Night Stand when you guys visited us. I'll let Bhyrne tell you why. Madame Eve just texted us. You've got a date."

"With Bhyrne?" Her heart suddenly ran through an Olympics gymnastic floor routine.

"Listen to me, Z. He's in a fragile state."

"Bhyrne is?" Yeah, so a parrot had apparently taken up residence in her mouth. But the idea of Iron Man having the vapors, no matter what his physiological or mental condition, seemed too ludicrous to require a laugh track.

"Yeah. Bhyrne. My cousin. It's important you don't mess with him now. So if you don't think he's the one, you'd better decide that pretty fuckin' quick. And get the hell away from him if it's a no-go."

 HEAT WAVE ©Taryn  Kincaid 2013 

HEAT WAVE is available as a single title ebook or as part of the SLEEPY HOLLOW anthology, available in paperback and digital editions

Heat-Waveweb.jpg (150×225)        SleepyHollow.jpg (150×225)

HEAT WAVE: Decadent Publishing | Amazon: US | UK | Canada | ARe | CTR |
 Barnes & Noble | Smashwords

SLEEPY HOLLOW:  Amazon US | Canada | UK | DE | Decadent Publishing |
  ARe | Barnes and Noble | CTR