Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Ready for WOLF'S SONG?

The "official" release of WOLF SONG is Friday...but it's available live at the Decadent Publishing site and All Romance eBooks NOW. 

You can also Pre-Order it at Amazon, Kobo, iTunes, and Coffee Time Romance. (It's half price at Coffee Time) and ARe!

Ten years ago, visions of death and the babble of lupine voices in his head, drove lone wolf Brick Northridge to challenge his cruel and greedy pack alpha. Beaten by the alpha’s thugs and banished from the pack, Brick lives a life of seclusion in a mountain cabin in the Black Hills.
Born into a rival clan of feline shifters, skinwalker Summer McCoy, in her guise as a raven, watches Brick from afar, giving him back a reason to live through her sweet songs and special gifts.
But when her clan attempts to tear them apart and threatens the pack that banished Brick so many years before, will their love be strong enough to withstand the forces bent on their destruction?
      Summer McCoy perched in the uppermost branches of her special Ponderosa pine,in raven guise, engaging in her favorite pastime, spying on the lone wolf chopping woodbelow. Two days’ worth of whiskers shadowed his rigid jaw. She loved when he forgot—or didn’t bother—to shave. Scruffy stubble suited him.

       The sun beat down on the back of his bronzed neck and shone on his hair, the colorof roasted coffee, shade lighter than the dark shadow that charcoaled his face.

She fluffed her feathers in anticipation. Take your shirt off, Brick. She’dheard the giant werebear, Gee, call him that name a decade ago. He’d made some jokeabout wall and the hardness of the male’s head. But Brick hadn’t laughed back then. Not ever.

He’d fascinated her from the moment he’d arrived in the glade, bruised andbattered. Once she’d learned his name, she’d treasured it, taking pleasure from repeatingit often. Secretly, of course. Unwrapping the syllable frequently to admire its radiancein the privacy of her tree house, the way woman wearing pearls against her warm skin enhanced their luminosity and iridescence.

Now, as if he’d heard her silent urging, he complied with her plea, shruggingout of the plaid flannel and flinging it onto a tree stump. Her beak opened as she suckedin breath. Sweat glistened on his torso, glazing rippling pecs and abs, shoulders broadenough to span the Badlands. A huge, incredible specimen of masculinity. Thick biceps flexed as he wielded the ax. Her heart beat faster than a hummingbird’s wings. Heat licked her.

Pre-Order at Amazon: US | Canada UK | Australia  | Kobo |iBooks |
  Decadent |  CoffeeTimeRomance |AR e

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Clare Dargin's MERRY "CHRIS" MAS

Jilly Reimers wants love but can't find it. Chris Spinell is a veteran of the war in Afghanistan who suffers from PTSD and a haunting feeling that something is missing in his life. Chris Poole is also an Afghanistan war veteran is ready to break out of his shell but is unsure how.  

With Christmas just around the corner, they decide not to spend it alone. Believing The Love Play Matchmaking Service to be just what they need for a night of fun and passion, they sign up. But when the guys show up and see that they've been set up on a menage, the only one happy about it is Jilly. 

Their consultant, called an Eros, assures Jilly that the service has a perfect track record but she's certain they'll be the first ones to get their money back. Will they have a very merry Christmas? Or will the three spend yet another one alone?

 A Siren Erotic Romance


Jilly idly twirled a lock of her hair as she gazed at the fire. The meal was good, a bit awkward, but all right. Now with Chris S. in the shower, she and Chris P., who’d freshened up after her, sat beside her. She hoped she’d get a chance to know him a little better, now that they were alone.

 Unlike Chris S., Chris P. was quiet, more reserved. His warm smile could melt ice. They’d spoken a bit about his life in Australia and how he met the other Chris when they were on Diego Garcia, a tiny atoll in the Pacific. It was there he garnered a better perspective on life, friendships and love. She reasoned that war tended to do that to a person.

 She looked at him again, admiring what she saw. He was gorgeous. If only she were a femme fatale like her friends. She pictured grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and planting a long seductive kiss on his pouty lips. Anything to ease the tension between her legs and the moisture dripping from her swollen pussy.

Golden and sun-kissed like a surfer, he had a look impossible to have around this time of year in Michigan, unless he spent countless hours in a tanning booth. But at the same time he didn’t look like the type who’d go to one. He seemed too rugged. She glanced at his short, flaxen hair, which he wore pulled back in a stubby tail. It accentuated his keen facial features. His physique, like that of a gladiator, made her want to whimper. Built like a brick wall without being too thick, he was three words—supple, etched, steel. And his Australian accent added to his raw sexiness.

Whereas Chris S. was the perfect picture type of the all-American, boy-next-door type, with light brown hair and sandy-colored tips and eyes so blue they looked like the color of tropical water. He reminded her of the high school captain of the football team who’d gone into the military and become a man, except he had a sensitive edge that permeated his being. While Chris P., who looked like he could take on a few guys at once, was more lighthearted and outgoing.

Either way, she knew she hit the jackpot because both guys were like something out of a magazine called Hot Guys “R” Us. They were a perfect ten. It was best Christmas gift anyone could have ever given her. She hoped a Chris Sandwich was definitely on the menu for the night. But how to get past the talking stage, she had no clue. She wondered if all of her Love Play’s match ups started like this.

Wearing some leggings and a cami, and he a T-shirt and shorts, she suddenly felt overdressed. The art of seduction was not something they taught in any of the schools she’d attended, and she sure as hell never picked up any pointers from her so-called “friends.” And her exes never gave her any encouragement in that department either.

This date should have come with instructions. I think I’m in trouble.

She let out a long sigh.

“Did you say something?” Chris P. asked, stirring from his long silence.

 “I was just thinking how beautiful this place is,” she lied. What? How lame is that?

“It is. I’ve never been to a place quite like this.”

“Love Play has quite a reputation.”

“You’ve used it before?” He perked up, facing her.

Heat burned her cheeks. “No. It’s what I heard from some of their clients.”

“So have you been married?” he asked.


“Neither have I. Never found anyone to get serious with,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t know. Maybe cupid’s arrow doesn’t work on me.”

“For me they’re defective. Or maybe his aim is bad,” she said, trying to suppress the memory of her ex-boyfriend.

“What do you mean?”

“My relationships, they never work out.” She shrugged her shoulders. “For whatever reason, they seem to choose my friends over me. Or it ends up that way once we get together.”

He shook his head. “Nah. They were bad blokes from the start. Believe me. I know. I’ve been around those types my entire life. The randier they are, the worse they will be. If a man wants you, he’ll stay.” His tone was soft, almost vulnerable.


“So tell me,” he said, turning to face her, “you ordered this hook up?” 

Again, her face flushed. She imagined it turning its characteristic red when the blood rushed to her cheeks. 

“Yes. But according to the guidelines, you would have either had to be open to it or requested it too. Right?” 

He chuckled. “I see he also got the smart I asked for. Yes, I am open to a ménage.” His expression became serious. “Do you think me odd?” 

“No. I’m glad we share that desire.”
Buy Link-- 

Author Bio 

Clare Dargin is an author of Science Fiction and Romance and has been writing stories all of her life before being published in 2007. She’s a great fan of the two genres and loves promoting them. 

An educator by profession, she possesses a Bachelor’s Degree in English from a major mid-western university. She presently resides in the Midwest and she hopes to expand her writings to include non-fiction, historical romance, and contemporary novels.

Monday, January 19, 2015


Blurb: Forsaken Realms:

On The Run, Bounty Hunters.

 “Retrieval specialist” is a fancy term for high-level corporate bounty hunting and Agent Gemmina Nayar is the best in her league. She’s a sense-enhanced, level-seven bounty hunter from New Mumbai who receives an exclusive invitation to track a dangerous criminal on private property. She arrives on the tropical planetoid eager to hunt and release her inner tigress, but is disappointed to discover the bounty has already been captured.

Syan is a Kironian, an off-limits alien race. He’s gorgeous, rugged and all male. Even sedated and forced to wear an electronic silence collar, he resembles a coppery skinned refugee from Mount Olympus. Gemmina’s unaware Kironian saliva is loaded with pheromones that can turn even the most indifferent woman into a willing mate. A single kiss or bite is sabotage.

When the mission turns lethal, she realizes she’s not only been tricked into bringing the wrong man to justice, but the harsh jungle below is a calculated trap.

Gemmina faced the open bay doors of the complex. Shouts and several loud howls rang from within.

The guard mumbled into the communicator. “What’s going on in there? Ms. Nayar is waiting to collect the retrieval.”
A frantic response burst from the device. “He ripped the second silence collar off! We’re replacing it now.”
The guard appeared visibly shaken. “The collar’s made of carbon compound. How did he do that? This is not good. Obviously, we can’t count on the collar. Don’t you have him sedated?”
“The sedation burns through him. We’ve given him enough to knock a rhino down.”
“Then try something stronger.” The guard scowled.
A burst of static buzzed from the communicator. “Kironian physiognomy is tricky shit. This guy’s a puzzle. There’s something weird going on with his blood. He keeps adapting to whatever sedation we give him.”

The guard glanced up. His eyes widened when he realized she had heard the conversation. “I have Ms. Nayar right beside me. I advise we use force cuffs on the subject, even if they violate intergalactic ethics protocols. They work. Treat the sedation as back up.”
“Force cuffs?” A wave of disgust curled her lips. “Really? Are we living in the Dark Ages? Not that I feel a great deal of pity for a psychopath who nuked innocent people, but it looks bad on my side. The cuffs are notorious for causing nerve and tissue damage, and they’re considered cruel and unusual. I’ve never had to use them to get a retrieval under control.”
“Once you’re out of Naveen’s orbit you’re free to do things your way, but I advise you to not let your guard down with this guy.”
A shiver of apprehension gripped her. What the hell had she gotten herself into? Considering she had extensive experience with many humanoid species, she should have felt confident in her abilities. But she didn't know exactly what a Kironian was.
“Listen, guys, even with access to a warp tunnel for part of the journey, Penal Colony X57 is eighty flight hours away. I cannot leave a man in force cuffs that long. Add to that the fact he’s Kironian and under political sequester and none of us are legally authorized to punish or even interact with this species. I see a perfect recipe for disaster. I don’t want to harm him and cause an intergalactic incident. What are we talking about here? How humanoid is a Kironian?”
“Very human.” The guard was quick to answer. “But better—smarter, and stronger. Most are peace-loving except for this character, who seems to be something of a rogue. I’ll bet the Kironians will cheer when they discover we took him out of the equation.”
Four guards wearing head-to-toe body armor and face shields, and carrying ionized bang sticks with the tips glowing hot, marched toward her, dragging a semi-conscious man between them. The captive was slumped forward with head hanging and a tousle of dark, wavy hair concealing his face. His splayed legs hung limp, and the toes of his heavy boots dug deep furrows into the beach. The current sedation seemed to be effective…
Bio: Katalina Leon
Katalina Leon is an artist and author who can’t commit to a single genre. Her favorite playgrounds are historical, Sci-fi, contemporary, and most of all paranormal realms. Katalina brings a sense of adventure and a touch of the mystical to erotic romance. She believes there's a daring heroine inside every woman who wants to take a wild ride with a strong worthy hero. 

“Forsaken Realms” Is part of Bounty Hunters United and Fated Desires Publishing Special Lines. 

Fated Desires Publishing:


All Romance eBooks: 

Night Owl Reviews Author Page: 


 Twitter: @Katalina_Leon

Wednesday, January 14, 2015


She’s a bad girlfriend.

Nothing Xio Davis does is right. When she abandons her pack, riding out of town on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle, she finds she’s bitten off more than she can chew. First, it’s small-time crimes, then bank robbery. As Xio sinks into the criminal underworld, the FBI catches up with her. Now, she’s got one way out: snitch.

When Xio turns state's evidence against a Mexican drug lord, Agent Marcus Cazador steps up to take her home, giving up his career, his place in the El Paso pack, and all he knows to protect her.

Xio claims she’s not the same wolf who left ten years before, but can she convince Marcus she’s changed her wicked ways? Or will the Black Hills be the end of the road on her long journey to redemption?

“A bank that’s never been robbed. There’s a first time for everything.”
State-of-the-art security. Armed rent-a-cops stationed on either side of the double doors. A busy street making a speedy getaway difficult. A lot of excellent reasons for Xio Davis get back in her Beemer and get out of Dodge.
None good enough to deter her from a challenge.
The two men who’d ridden with her climbed out. The bigger of the pair, Juan, rolled his shoulders before reaching into the cab for a ski mask and weapon, then passing it off to Miguel. “Catch.” He grabbed another and tossed it over the roof to her.
She caught it, slammed a full magazine home, and tucked it under her duster. With a wink, she retrieved her Day of the Dead mask from a recent celebration. “Okay, boys. Let’s break their lucky streak.”
Diego gave her the freedom to do whatever she wanted these days, as long as she kept his bed warm, and whenever she left his hacienda, she remembered to take her escorts with her. Maybe it was his way of keeping his eye on her—or on his money. Whatever the reason, she didn’t like it, so Xio kept the boys too busy to stick their noses in her personal business. Too busy to get close to the truth.
He didn’t smack her around or pass her among his friends and associates. And his men had long ago learned to respect her personal space. After one of his new hires had groped her, the man had lost a couple fingers and ended up in a body cast. Diego didn’t have to say a word or do anything to intervene. She’d policed her own problems.
Her boyfriend had grown busy with cartel business and that suited her fine. Never present, all the better. They didn’t love each other, but had an understanding. He provided for her, protected her when she needed it. She scratched his itch and spent his money.
But life had grown dull. Triggered by a botched bank robbery in El Paso, a restlessness had begun to swell inside her. Why, after all these years, she didn’t know, but it was there, a constant reminder she’d shackled her true nature in her quest to be free.
Her wolf constantly paced in her consciousness. Xio found herself unable to settle, shift, or run in the wilds as her inner beast demanded. Not because she physically couldn’t but because outside forces conspired against her. That was what happened when you lived with humans.
Wolf—dog—it didn’t matter. All made great sausage for hungry families in the villages surrounding the Sanchez ranch, and it was a risk she hadn’t taken in the ten years’ time since she’d almost ended up in a taco on some family’s dinner table.
She didn’t want to be in Mexico, and she didn’t want to be with Diego anymore, but she really didn’t have a choice or anywhere else to go. Hence, the reason she’d crossed the border for this small amusement. Perhaps she could get some of the pent-up energy out. Open a valve and vent.
Speaking of which….
Xio pulled the mask over her eyes and strode through the front doors of the bank. Her two team members flanked her.
No one seemed to notice them yet. Not very observant for a bank that claimed to have a robbery-free record. Deciding to wake them all up, she yanked an AKS-762 assault rifle—with a custom stock and barrel that catered to her size—from under her canvas duster and fired several rounds into the ceiling. Chunks of plaster rained down on the patrons in the lobby. Multiple people screamed and several of the customers hit the floor before she needed to provide them with instruction. Conversely, not everyone appeared to be a rocket scientist. Not a problem. She had great communication skills and hearing protection in her ears.
Xio fired a second time, bringing down more of the ceiling. She pointed at the floor. “On your bellies, ladies and gentlemen.” As though doing the “wave” at a sporting event, they dropped.
She strolled to the front of bank, kicked over one of the posts holding a velvet rope, and stepped over it. She’d never been patient enough to wait in line and wasn’t about to run their little maze now. Xio removed her earplugs and tuned in with her wolf hearing, listening for anyone who might want to be a hero. Not a peep—some crying, but that was par for the course.
Not a daredevil in the bunch.
She eyed the staff on the floor. The one thing all bankers feared was a robber who jumped the teller line, and she was about to become their worst nightmare. They’d taken classes, trained for robberies, all bank staff did—and what did their security specialists warn them about? Her—joining them behind the counter, up close and personal, with a loaded weapon.
“Palms on the floor and your ankles crossed. I haven’t got all day.”
She stopped at one of the windows and without the use of her hands, jumped up on the marble countertop. At five feet two, the feat should have been impossible for a human female of her stature, but she wasn’t completely human—and impossible wasn’t in her vocabulary. In fact, that was why she’d come here, chosen this robbery-proof bank. It was a matter of honor, and a little about her ego. The branch had never been successfully robbed, and she’d decided to change that.
It was Wednesday, the day after their big shipment came in, and the third of the month, when a large majority of seniors got their Social Security checks. Prime for the picking. The setup couldn’t be any sweeter.
She cocked her head and listened for sirens in the distance. Five minutes out, if her hearing served correct. “Here’s how we are going to do this. When I tap you on the shoulder, you get up and fill the backpack with cash. No bait bills. I can tell what they are, so don’t fuck with me.” She hopped off the counter and behind the teller line, nudging the first person there with the flash suppressor on the end of her weapon. “Move.”
With tears in her eyes, the teller staggered to her feet, blubbering something about children at home. Over the last ten years, Xio had heard every story imaginable, and the young woman’s tale did little to change what she planned to do. No, she’d never killed anyone, nor did she intend to start today, but they didn’t know that.
“Save the speech and stuff the bag.” She shoved the backpack into the blonde’s hands. “Now.”
The young woman pulled the drawer open and grabbed handfuls of cash, leaving the bait bill in the till as instructed. Xio didn’t need to see the special ultraviolet ink on it to know what it was. Her wolf could smell that it had been handled a multitude of times by the same person. Once the teller finished, Xio shoved her back to the floor and nudged the next. “Your turn.”
All followed instruction, until she reached the last person, a man. Something about him raised her hackles. She should have listened to the warning, but there were still two minutes left and she’d yet to empty the commercial drawer, where they kept the big money. Greed won over instinct, and Xio toed him with her combat boot. “Up, big boy.”
And wasn’t that understatement of the year? As he stood, she realized he had to be at least six feet four, dwarfing her tiny frame. He didn’t look like your typical banker, at least not any she’d dealt with in the past, and he sure as hell didn’t smell like a banker.
Wolf. Shit.
He looked her in the eyes, holding her gaze for a few seconds, making her trigger-finger itch. She wore a mask from a recent Day of the Dead celebration and had salted her words with a Spanish accent, so unless he could pick out her eyes in a lineup, he wouldn’t be able to identify her.
Regardless, she found his action brazen, considering she’d already fired several rounds, though not enough he’d think her magazine empty. None of the others so much as looked at her. This one had the balls to take a mental snapshot that would help a sketch artist. The last thing she needed. There was also one other thing missing. Fear.
The feeling prodding her before roared to life. Cop. Ah, that’s the reason his scent had seemed so familiar. Double shit. Not only was he a cop, but they’d crossed paths before. This was the man, or should she say wolf, who had been on her trail for months, since her gang had slipped up in El Paso. Lord knew she’d tried to ditch him. Once a wolf got a scent of his prey, he didn’t back down. Things had just gone from bad to worse. She wasn’t sure what pack he was from. More than likely the El Paso Cazador in Southern Texas. Wolves didn’t tend to stray too far from their territories, not higher-ranking pack members, anyway. Something told her he was up there in the group, a Beta, if not an Alpha. The stench of authority clung to him.
Wolf or not, one thing was for certain. He wasn’t here to administer pack law. Suddenly nervous—something that never happened to her—Xio stepped back to put space between them.
She’d walked them into a trap, and if what she saw in the man’s eyes was correct, a carefully orchestrated one. Her only advantage was that she still had a loaded assault rifle. “We need to leave. Now,” she called out to her crew, who were supposed to be watching the customers in the lobby.
No sound. No confirmation they’d heard her. Not good. She couldn’t smell them, but that didn’t mean anything. They could be near an air-conditioning vent or fresh-air exchange. Wouldn’t be the first time it’d happened. She chanced a glance back to see what they were doing, and saw no sign of them. Shit! They’d either bailed, left her to take the fall, or they’d already been apprehended while she’d been preoccupied with cleaning out the teller stations.
As she turned to address the cop, her weapon was wrenched away and the butt caught her in the jaw. Xio dropped like a bag of rocks. Her wolf wasn’t helping her out of this one. That was what she got for letting her ego get involved.
“Good morning, Miss Davis. Let me introduce myself. I’m Special Agent Marcus Cazador of the FBI. Didn’t anyone ever tell you banks are most often robbed within the first few minutes of opening? We figured you’d be here, after the invitation we’d extended. Safest bank in Texas. I can see you liked the billboard at the port of entry. You and I have a lot to talk about, but business first.”
He’d used her real name, one she hadn’t heard in ten years. It sounded strange coming from his mouth, but also right, as though he’d been born to say it. Not good. This man was dangerous in so many ways. “Bite me.”

Check out my other work at:

For other books in the series:

******************************For the Hunting Party***************************************

It's a hunting party. Be sure to check my calendar on my blog at Backward Momentum

On one of the posts in January before the 23rd, I will be offering up an ARC, or advanced reader's e-copy of my soon to be released title, Black Hills Desperado. On a couple other posts, I will offer prizes of a signed copy of Slipping the Past and a signed tee with one of my Decadent backlist titles on the front.

 I'm only giving out one ARC e-copy of Black Hills Desperado before release, and entry time will be limited. You will have until midnight of the post to comment and leave your name and email on the specially designated post. If you have already pre-ordered and do not want the ARC copy, I will offer a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate instead. This is book 3 in the Black Hills Wolves series from Decadent Publishing. Good luck, my wolfish readers!

Author Bio:
D. L. Jackson is an award-winning author of urban fantasy, science fiction, military romance and erotic romance. She loves to incorporate crazy plot twists, comedy and the unexpected into her worlds. As a U.S. Army veteran, she naturally adores men in uniform and feels the world could always use more. She does her part by incorporating as many sexy soldiers in her novels as she can. When she isn't writing or running the roads, you can often find her online chatting with her peers and readers. Grab a cup of iced coffee, pull up your virtual chair and say hi. She loves emails and blog visits from her readers.


Saturday, January 10, 2015

The Black Hills Wolves

The Black Hills Wolves have arrived!

The evil alpha's son, Drew Tao, has arrived back in the Black Hills of South Dakota, to dispatch his malevolent father, the alpha who has crippled the Black Hills pack, sending so many of its members far from the town of Los Lobos, traditional home of the pack.

The first book in the series, Drew's story, WOLF'S RETURN, by Rebecca Royce, is available now wherever ebooks are sold!

The Black Hills Wolves is a multi-author series, published by Decadent Publishing. It's been a secret project for more than a year and the result is spectacular!

The next six books are available for Pre-Order now on Amazon, including mine,  WOLF'S SONG, which releases on January 30th!

Check out all the amazing titles and awesome covers on Amazon!

Tuesday, January 6, 2015


Title: Sam’s Temptation
Author: V.S. Morgan
Publisher: Decadent Publishing
Length: 86 pages, ~20,000 words
Genre(s): Contemporary Erotic Multicultural Western Foodie Rubenesque

Sam’s sole purpose is the survival of his family and their ranch. Will he be tempted by a sweet and sassy chef?

On a working vacation in Montana, Chef Gabi Inez’s schedule allows her to enjoy planned activities and hangout with her cousin and his new family. She’s not looking for love, but spending time with a hunky cowboy sounds perfect. Gabi works hard, but every girl needs some fun. What if flirting leads to something more?

Sam Malone is the brains behind Blackbird, a guest and working ranch. Since his parents’ death, his sole purpose has been family and the ranch’s survival. Burned by love in the past, he avoids the distraction that comes with beautiful women. But what’s a cowboy to do when a sweet and sassy chef gets under his skin, only to be told by her overprotective cousin she’s off limits?

Excerpt One:

He retreated a step, raising his hands in a nonthreatening manner. “Sorry, I want to make sure you aren’t hurt. I was going to save you from that creep, but you beat me to it.”
She tossed her head and dark curls bounced around her face. “This is New York, cowboy. We girls save ourselves.”
Her tone was sassy, but her hands trembled as she set the glass on the counter. The music changed to something soft and slow, and he gave her a reassuring smile. When you fall off your horse, you need to get back on. “You certainly did. If I promise to behave myself, will you dance with me?”
He held out his hand, fully prepared for her to tell him to go to hell.
She hesitated and finally shrugged. “Sure.”
When she placed her small hand in his, his pulse raced.
He led the way to the dance floor and loosely held her, fighting the urge to pull the beautiful woman close and bury his face in her long hair; its unique scent combined with a hint of vanilla and jasmine was intoxicating. His body flamed at each slight touch of their bodies. He’d never experienced an attraction so instantaneous, so urgent. Not even with his ex, Veronica.
“Do you have a name, cowboy?” she asked, her soft voice causing his dick to harden.
It’d been a while, but where was his control, damn it?
“Samuel Malone, brother of the groom.”
She must have really shorted out his brain for him to give his full first name, which he never used. He was Sam, plain and simple.
“Ah, I see the family resemblance. I’m Gabriela Inez, cousin to the other groom.”
This beautiful lady was related to Rafael? Why hadn’t he ever mentioned her? They continued to dance, and sparks flared when she relaxed into him. She was a little thing, even in her sexy stilettos. He hunched to rest his jaw against the top of her head. Perfect. He didn’t pause as the song transitioned to another. No way was one song enough. He eased back and gazed down, taking in her beauty and finally focusing on her full, luscious lips. Suddenly nothing was more important than kissing her….

About the Author:
V.S. Morgan has lived all over the US but calls Minnesota her home now. Her family includes her hubby, son, and a menagerie of pets.

She's been writing stories since she could hold a pencil and dreams of happily ever afters - even for two hot men - because love knows no boundaries. V.S. writes MC/IR contemporary, paranormal, and suspense m/f and m/m with heart. 

V.S. is a GLBT ally and a lifetime contributor of The Trevor Project.

Facebook and Goodreads: V.S. Morgan
Twitter: @vsmorgan1

 Available many locations including:

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Hello, New Year...Look what's in store!

Coming soon...


a Beyond Fairytales 
Sleeping Beauty Collection story 
from Decadent Publishing

A Tempting Signs story 
from Fated Desires Publishing
December 2015