Thursday, March 8, 2012

Hello, from an Indian Romance Writer!























Hi! Having written seventeen American Indian Historical Romances, I find it hard to believe that there just aren't that many on the market nowadays. Personally I love the West and am thrilled to see Western Historical Romances making a come-back. But for me the West is all about the American Indian.


Perhaps here's why, or maybe it’s something else that joggles my memory to recall things I’ve read, things I’ve experienced. And my mind turns over and over again to Native America. To all the things that are a part of our heritage as Americans, each and every one of us, regardless of whether or not we have a drop of American Indian blood running through our veins or not.



But what exactly did the Indians give us. If you’re at all like me, I don’t recall learning any of these things in school. This all comes from research. Yes, we hear of Thanksgiving and of other Indian ceremonies. But what else did the American Indian contribute to our society that we live in right this very moment? Can you guess?



Now before we go any further let me mention that I’ll be giving away a book to some blogger today. All you have to do is come on in and join the conversation.



Okay, so what did Native America give to our society? Well, probably the most obvious gift is that of names…Mississippi…Iroquois…Illinois…Kansas…Dakota…Iowa, Ohio, Missouri – how about phrases like “bury the hatchet,” we council together,” or organizations like “boy scouts,” “girl scouts.” Their names for places, their ideas and many of their ideas on government remain with us to this day.

It was the Iroquois who gave us the game of LaCrosse — the Indians of the plains who taught us our most common swimming stroke — the Indians who gave us corn, beans, squash. Even some of our ceremonies date to the American Indian (Thanksgiving was one of the seasonal celebrations of the Iroquois and Eastern Indians.)


Probably one of the most important things that the American Indian gave to our culture was the idea of liberty of individuals and the sovereignty of the individual. Remember that the European who came to this continent was escaping oppression and tyranny. But here in America he met a new being. A man who considered himself free of all government ties.



In fact, not too many people are aware that the Iroquois had probably the longest running “republic” on this planet. Yes, the Greeks strived for it, wrote about republics, so did the Romans. But these attempts were relatively short lived. How many people are aware that the Iroquois founded and enjoyed a true “Of the People, By the People, For the People” government (1140 A.D. — dated by the elders of the Iroquois to around 1778 — when they lost their Independence just as we gained ours).



Interesting, too, that after the Iroquois Confederation was formed in 1142, it lasted in a peaceful fashion up until the European invasion. Europe was at war — often Native Americans were recruited to fight those wars on behalf of the European powers. But even more important than war — that changed the face of the continent — was that was trade. Europe had gadgets and things that Native America couldn’t manufacture on their own. Gadgets that made life easier.
Tribes went to war to secure that trade because whoever had the best trade with the European powers, could control the continent and keep their people free…and most of all, enjoy the comforts that Europe brought.





Personally, I think it was a high price to pay. Some trinkets, pots, pans, material for clothes. All, in the end, bought for the price of enslavement…or if not enslavement, then at least banishment from one’s home grounds. As a result, the Iroquois who so grandly postulated the peaceful end of war forever in this part of the world (America) were scattered all over the American Continent after the Revolutionary war, their land bought up by the large corporations that were already starting to spring up on the Eastern seaboard.



To my mind it was a high price to pay. Too high. But then, aren’t we involved in a similar situation today? Is the price of gadgets and “things to make life easier or more enjoyable” to be paid by the surrender of one’s sovereignty? Perhaps it’s a mute question — perhaps many have already paid this price already. But there are still some — maybe us romantics — who remember their history, who remember a time when we were truly free, free to choose our own way, free to speak and to be heard, free to think as one sees fit. As Nathanial says in THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS, — “I don’t call myself subject to much at all.” Indeed, there were no subjects to be found on the American continent. At least not at this time period in history.
Perhaps this is the greatest gift that the American Indian gave to us: the memory of a truly free, independent, and happy people. But more than that, perhaps the idea that America would lead the world to peace — to a world without war, a world where grief was ended forever, and a world where nations could live with one another without the need to try to “change” them into the image of oneself.


These are true gifts. We carry that heritage in our bones, each one of us. And it’s in the West, the cowboys and Indians, where that tradition is carried on to this day. Ah, how I love the Indians … and cowboys.



Don’t forget I have four new to ebooks novels on sale -- a couple of them for a song -- here's the link to go and purchase them: http://store.samhainpublishing.com/karen-kay-pa-1676.html

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Time and Time Travel: In Love's Own Time - new time travel romance


Time is an inescapable part of our lives.  Most of us rise to an alarm and our day is structured by time.  We’re slaves to the clock, our hours, minutes, and moments divided into blocks of time, often belonging to someone else for their purposes, not our own.  Long before the Industrial Revolution changed human life forever, people lived by the sun.  They rose with it and when it slipped below the western horizon each evening, they headed to bed after an evening meal.   But when industrialization forced people away from the farms, the cottages, the villages, and a slower existence we learned to obey the clock.



Time divides our days.  Most of us wear a watch or check the time on our cell phone or other device.  We’re committed to arriving to work or class on time, to catching a favorite program at a specific time, to picking up our kids or making an appointment.  Time is carved up into parcels with purpose.



Time becomes flexible or it seems it does.  When we’re waiting for something – a holiday, a loved one’s homecoming, a vacation, time crawls.  But when the event arrives, time shifts into high speed.  After months of longing, the much awaited vacation flies past and is over too soon.  We delve into our memories and the past seems close enough to touch.  When we visit a hometown, a place we once lived, or any place from the past, sometimes things appear not to have changed.  Oh, sometimes places appear smaller or shabbier but often they seem just the same as if time stood still.



With our modern preoccupation with time, it’s no wonder the concept of time travel captures and holds our imaginations.  Albert Einstein believed time flows like a river and to return to the past, we must travel upstream.  He died before he figured out quite how it could be accomplished but since many of his theories proved true, there may come a time when time travel is recognized as possible.  If we could, many of us – myself included – would enjoy the chance to go back in time either to visit a historical period we’ve always admired or to visit our ancestors, to meet them up close and personal, or even to spy on our own lives.  There’s a certain lure to the idea we could watch historic events unfold and a greater temptation if we could change fate.



In my new release from Rebel Ink Press, In Love’s Own Time, time travel proves not only to be possible but my heroine believes she can change fate.   Here’s an excerpt from the novel:




Excerpt:

            “Lillian.” Howard sounded hoarse, his voice cracking with emotion although she wasn’t sure which one, fear, elation, or sorrow.  “This is 1904.”

            “How could it be?” Even as she protested, she knew it was true.  The old house was new.  The smell of fresh paint mingled with the Dutch cake aroma and as she’d noticed earlier, the book covers were bright.  Howard’s sheet music pages never yellowed but sparkled unblemished white.  It was true and if it was 1904, then Howard was alive.  He wasn’t a ghost.  

            Lillian reached for him, stretched out her hand to touch him, and closed her fingers over his arm.  Through the wool of his sleeve, his skin was warm, so alive, and tears formed in her eyes.  Her right hand stroked the curve of his cheek and she clasped his hand with the other.   He twined his fingers through hers, tight as if he might never let go, and pulled her right hand to his lips, brushing her skin with a faint, soft kiss.

            “Oh, Howard.”  Her voice broke.  “Howard, you’re real.”

            She could touch him now and she could smell him, a rich masculine aroma of soap and leather, and the outdoors.  Before, he’d been a ghost, not tangible, not touchable but for now, he was both and she reveled in him with every sense.  She touched his hair with trembling fingers and rubbed her cheek against his suit jacket.  When she lifted her face, his eyes blazed with emotion and she knew before he bent down they’d kiss.

            In her dream, the kiss’d been sweet but in reality, it was sweeter.  His lips heated hers, melted, and moved against her mouth until she couldn’t breathe.  She put her arms around his neck and he held her, one hand flat against her back.   Until now, he’d been unattainable, almost fantasy, but now he was a man, a man who held her in his arms, and she wanted him.  Desire burned like a wavering candle flame but without warning, Howard released her.

            “Lillian, I forgot myself.  You must forgive me.”

            Her lips, bruised from his mouth, stretched into a smile. “I’ll never forgive you if you don’t kiss me again, Howard.”

            “I shouldn’t.” His voice sounded muffled. “But I’ll, sweet Lillian, though I shouldn’t.  However, for the moment I’m alive. Carpe diem!”



Find me at

Facebook: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

Twitter: @leeannwriter


Rebel Writer: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy



Purchase Links:





http://www.bookstrand.com/in-loves-own-time


I also have a book trailer here:





Tuesday, February 14, 2012

The Origins of Valentine's Day

by Michelle Miles

Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m excited to be here blogging on this day for lovers. And in honor of today, I'm giving away one eBook of the winner's choice of my two latest releases, One Knight Only or Phoenix Fire. All you have to do is comment on this post or over at my blog on today's post to be entered to win. If you comment on BOTH posts, you get your name in the hat twice. You have until midnight CST to get those comments in! Winner will be announced at my blog on Thursday, February 16. Good luck!

Some say the origin of Valentine’s Day dates back to Lupercalia, an ancient possibly pre-Roman festival observed February 13 through February 15 to aver evil spirits and purify the city.

Lupercalia is one of the most ancient Roman holidays. It is also referenced in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar in which Marc Anthony offers Caesar the crown three times in Act I. The pagan festival began with a sacrifice to honor, what scholars believe, the she-wolf that suckled Romulus and Remus or the god Fanus. Once the sacrifice was concluded, women were whipped with the skin and blood to promote fertility throughout the year.

Glad we don’t have that tradition anymore. ;)

But in the 5th Century, in an effort to Christianize the pagan holiday, Pope Gelasius declared Feburary 14 as St. Valentine’s Day. There were reportedly several "St. Valentine's," incluidng Pope Gelasius, who was a defiant Roman priest under Emperor Claudius II.

Claudius was an ambitious ruler whose vast armies took away men from their homes for long periods of time. In order to keep their homesickness and pining love under control, he banned marriages. Pope Gelasius thought the rule harsh and defied Claudius by marrying young lovers in secret. When Claudius discovered his betrayal, Gelasius was arrested and scheduled to be executed. The young couples the priest had married came to visit him in the prison, giving him flowers and cards as a token of their appreciation. It was said Galesius fell in love with his jailers' daughter and, on the date of his execution which was February 14, he left her a note and signed it, "from your Valentine."

Hence, our Valentine tradition of signing "from your Valentine" was born. Our modern Valentine’s now, of course, is full of cards, flowers and chocolates instead of jail and execution and is one of the most popular holidays on the calendar.

In my latest book, Phoenix Fire, Cassius and Elena are Valentine’s. They're both salves of the Empire. She's a gladiatrix where every day in the arena could be her last. He's an assassin hired to murder the Emperor, though Elena doesn’t know it. He manages to coerce her into helping and the two strikes a dangerous alliance. Their alliance leads to love affair. One the Emperor discovers. So for their betrayal, he demands one last entertainment—to be pitted against each other in a fight to the death.

While my world is based on Ancient Rome, it has fantasy elements including centaurs and nymphs. I wanted to give it that ancient feel, but I also wanted to create a world where the fantastic walked through the streets, where a woman could be one of the best gladiators in the arena and where men didn’t necessary save the day. Hopefully you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Available at:

Amazon
All Romance eBooks

Michelle Miles writes paranormal, fantasy and contemporary romance. For more information about her and her books, visit her website at http://www.michellemiles.net.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Star Crossed Lovers


By Janet Quinn

Since Valentine’s Day is coming, I am going to tell a short love story.

Once, long ago in a city called Augeas, Rayna, a guard to the lady of the city, lived. She had grown up within the palace walls in the area set aside for the Lady’s Guard, her mother having been within the ranks of the guard. Only those born to the Lady’s Guard held the honor of caring for the lady of the palace.

Down the hall on the far side of the lord and lady’s suite was the Lord’s Guard. Gideon, also born to the order, grew up there knowing that one day he would be a member of the most elite guard that watched over the lord of the palace.

Rayna and Gideon grew up together learning to ride horses and fight with swords. Often they chose to spar against each other and as they grew older, it became less of wanting to best each other and more of wanting to be with each other.

Gideon and Rayna took long rides in the country side where they shared picnics and their first kiss. As they neared the age of mating, Gideon took Rayna on a special picnic taking along her favorite foods and wine. He spread a blanket beneath the trees that grew outside the walls of the city and separated it from the farmland beyond.

After they ate, as they lay on the blanket sipping wine, Gideon took Rayne’s hand and smiled at her. Kissing the back of her hand, he said,” Rayna, will you be my mate?”

She leaned up and captured his lips with hers, holding the kiss for a long moment. Then she smiled at him and nodded. “I will stand by your side until death parts us.”

He gathered her into his arms and held her for a long moment. “We shall present our request to the lord and lady on the morrow.”

But fate held other plans as evil and jealousy stalked the palace with plans to steal their happiness.

Read more about Rayna and Gideon in Chronicles of Augeas on sale at Kindle. Illustrated with drawings of the characters.

http://www.amazon.com/Chronicles-of-Augeas-book/dp/B005MVAQ7O/ref=sr_1_19?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1329170151&sr=1-19

Sunday, February 12, 2012

In Love's Own Time - A ghost, a love story, a time trravel tale like no other....


My latest release is a different kind of romance novel. While I can't necessarily claim it to be unique it's not like anything I've ever read. In Love's Own Time combines my own fascination with time travel, the paranormal, and romance into one story. It's a contemporary romance or at least it begins that way. It's a ghost story and a ghostly love story because the heroine falls in love with a ghost. But it's also a time travel tale because, to be together, Lillian must find a way to time travel for any chance at a happily ever after.

How, readers may wonder, did I dream up this idea? Well, here's a little back story to explain the inspiration behind my latest novel!
When I first moved to my neighborhood about five years ago, I wondered about the history. I don’t suppose most people would wonder about the past in a modern subdivision with ranch style homes, just about the closest thing we have to suburbs in our small town but I did. So once I got settled in and all the boxes were unpacked, I decided to determine the history of the land. It didn’t take long once I got started. Using some of the plat maps of the past available in the genealogy room of the local library I found most of what is now the Greenwood Hills subdivision was once a flourishing fruit farm outside town. Just like any good history detective I used this information to trace it. Local history buffs in the small town where I live will know Howard built the lovely old brick home on West Spring Street back in 1904 and although Howard died the next year, the house remained in the Speakman family until around 1920. Since then, it’s had various owners but since it always reminded me of my childhood home back in St. Joseph, Missouri, I’ve always admired the house. Of course, I found the connection intriguing. I collected everything I could about the Speakman fruit farm and Mr. Speakman and although he’s all but forgotten (or unknown) to most Neosho residents today, he did a lot of amazing things for our town including Big Spring Park. He was also at one time president of the Strawberry Growers Association. Rumor or legend holds he built the house on Spring Street with the proceeds from one good strawberry season.

Since I deal with imagination most of the time, I found myself wondering what might have happened if Howard Speakman hadn’t died at the age of thirty-five. I imagined ways he might have improved Neosho and how things could have changed if he left descendants. Before long I found myself – this happens to authors, an occupational hazard – writing a novel based on Howard’s short life and his fruit farm. My story began in the present day when a young history teacher from Kansas City came to Neosho when she inherited the house from the grandfather she never knew. Her mother warned her about ‘the ghost’ but when Lillian, my heroine met him, he wasn’t scary at all but charming. By this point, I strayed far from reality but that’s the nature of fiction. Out this week, In Love’s Own Time (Rebel Ink Press) is a romance but it’s hard to classify. I’ve been telling friends and fans it’s a contemporary/time travel/ghost/paranormal/slipstream/historical romance because it’s all of the above at one portion of the story or another.

Here’s the cover blurb – maybe it explains it best:

There may be no place like home and nothing like love…..when history teacher Lillian Dorsey inherits a three story Edwardian brick mansion from the grandfather who banished her pregnant mother decades before, it’s a no brainer. She’ll visit the place, see it and sell it. Instead Lillian’s captivated by the beautiful home and intrigued by the ghost of the original owner, Howard Speakman. Soon she’s flirting with the charming, witty gentleman who’s been dead for more than a century and before long, they admit it’s a mutual attraction. Still, when she’s alive and he’s dead, any shot at being together seems impossible.

But where there’s a will, there’s a way….one afternoon while pretending to visit the past the impossible becomes a brief reality. If they visited 1904 before, Lillian knows they can do it again and if so, she can prevent Howard’s untimely death. With a combination of love, powerful hope, and stubborn will, Lillian bends time to her will and returns to the summer of 1904. But Howard’s death looms ahead and if she’s to find a happy ending, she must save him from his original death.

In Love’s Own Time is or will be available by Friday at all the major line book retailers carrying romance.
Here's an excerpt, a scene between Howard and Lillian as they struggle to find a way they can be together:
Howard didn’t hear her step so she paused in the doorway of the rear parlor to watch him, hands skimming over the ivory keys with the easy skill of long practice. Never musically inclined, Lillian couldn’t plink out the simplest tune on a piano but she admired anyone who could. Somehow, in a way she couldn’t understand, Howard vented his emotions into the music, the sad notes resonating with his feelings. Sadness, disappointment, and a touch of anger made the music his own. Awed and moved Lillian said nothing until he finished playing, hands resting on the keys and gaze staring into the wall.
“Howard?”
He turned and now, having experienced him in the flesh, she noted how spectral he appeared. His complexion was pale and although he was three dimensional, he was flat, like a cardboard cutout.
“Yes, my dear Lillian.”
What could she not to sound empty and silly after his magnificent music? She wasn’t sure but she said what she felt.
“I’m so sorry, Howard, sorry it didn’t last.”
“Sorry doesn’t begin to describe how I feel.”
She wanted so much to touch him, to comfort him but she couldn’t. “Your music said it very well. Some men would smash things or kick a dog but you expressed what you felt in the music.”
His lips attempted a smile. “Well, it’s the Quaker in me coming out. My father’s family was Quaker from Pennsylvania and Quakers are very non-violent. As a boy I wasn’t allowed to beat my fists in rage or throw a temper fit so I learned to use music to express what I felt.”
“You do it well.”
Rising from the piano bench, he bowed and settled into a corner of the small sofa. “Thank you. Now I’ve unburdened myself with music, we can move forward. So, explain to me about hauntings and time travel and the like.”
Lillian sat down, thoughts whirling like a windmill in a storm. “I’m not really an expert but I did do some research when I went back to Kansas City. There are three basic types of hauntings according to the experts. There are residual hauntings where the ghost is nothing more than an impression, like a picture imprinted on a place showing the same thing repeatedly. You’re not residual.
“Then there’s poltergeist activity but it often centers around an adolescent and is characterized by a lot of physical activity, objects moving, things being moved, and noise. Poltergeists rap on the walls, knock on floors, or tap on ceilings but they don’t play the piano.
“Last is what is called an intelligent haunting and the ghost is cognizant of who they are – or were – and can communicate.”
Howard listened but when she paused for breath, he wrinkled his nose. “At least I’m considered intelligent.”
“Well, yes,” Lillian floundered, facts jumbled together in her head like confetti. The books she’d read, the programs she watched, and the information she gleaned congealed into a mess hard to separate into facts. What she learned from self-proclaimed psychics, ghost hunters, and paranormal professionals now seemed vague and too simple.
“You do interact with me and you’re what's known as a full figured apparition but in every other way, you’re not like any of the ghosts I read about. Most of the books mentioned intelligent hauntings are around because they want or need something or have unfinished business. I read chapters about how people can help ghosts go to the light, which seems to be another way to say send them to Heaven. Or how they resolve a mystery or reveal where the money was hidden but you don’t fit any of those, I don’t think.”
He crossed one leg over the other, pondering what she said. “No, I don’t suppose I do. I believe if Heaven or hell were my intended destination, I would've gone but I don’t seem able to do so. Nor do I’ve unfinished business except my life ended much too soon. There was so much more I hoped to do, Lillian. I built this home for a family, to find a wife, and I died before it could happen. I suppose I’d call it unfinished business.”
“Yes. However, short of telling you to move on to Heaven, I don’t see where any of the things I researched can help you. If you want to move on from here then I’ll do what I can to help but I’d miss you.”
Tears clogged her throat and she fumbled the last words. Setting Howard free to reach the hereafter sounded like the right thing to do but she didn’t want to part with him. If he wanted to go, however, to be free after more than a hundred years, how could she keep him? She swallowed a sob and waited.
“I won’t leave you, Lillian,” Howard said, as he stood, moving across the room to stand before her. “As cursed as I’ve felt as a ghost, I couldn’t leave you, my love. Earlier you said, where there’s a will, there’s a way. It lies to us to find it. What do you know about time travel?”
She wanted to cry, wail like an abandoned baby on a doorstep. “Even less than I know about ghosts.”
Laughter wasn’t the reaction she expected but he hooted. Quizzical, she turned to him,
“What could be funny?”
“You’re much more of an expert than you think, Lillian. After all, you have just returned from time traveling which is, I daresay, more than H.G. Wells or his Time Traveler ever managed to do. Is time travel considered possible in your time?”
“Well, in theory only,” Lillian said, shaking her head. “There are a lot of books and movies but there’s some serious research. Einstein, the scientist, presented a theory time is like a river but I’d need to refresh my memory on the rest of it. I guess you’ve read Wells’ The Time Machine?
“Avidly. The notion intrigued me although his fictional account is much more fanciful than what we just experienced. I’d settle for returning to 1904, to my life. I’d trade the Morlocks for the life I lived and adventure for domesticity. You intrigue me with this Einstein. Who is he?”
“He was one of the greatest scientists ever,” Lillian said, wondering just how to condense Einstein’s career and many discoveries into a nutshell for Howard. “Sometime I’ll tell you all about him but for now, the important thing is he believed time was like a river. He wasn’t much of a believer in time travel at first but one of his colleagues at Princeton, Kurt Goedel, I think, came up with the idea time’s river includes whirlpools allowing time travel. Other scientists believe Einstein’s theory of relativity creates the possibility of time travel. Most of his other theories were proven to be true so – as we now know – time travel ispossible.”
“So it seems. I also appear to be fading fast so bid me adieu, dearest.”
Before she could say a word, he vanished and was gone.
“Damn!” The aggravation would kill her if the suspense didn’t. Love relationships were hard enough with a flesh and blood partner but Howard’s disappearing act was beyond difficult. There must be some way, she thought, to cross the boundaries of time so she and Howard could be together and Lillian resolved to figure out how.
Watch the book trailer here:
And find me here:
Facebook: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy
Twitter: @leeannwriter
Rebel Writer: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy http://leeannsontheimermurphy.blogspot.com
Seanachie Stories – Tuesday Tales And More http://seanachiestories-tuesdaytalesandmore.blogspot.com

Friday, February 10, 2012

Buy me buy me buy me


Are you tired of "buy me" links in Facebook, on blogs, and everywhere?

Man, it seems like every time I turn around, someone is asking me to buy something -- a book, a download, a piece of jewelry ... something. I don't think it used to be like this. It seems like there used to be the occasional blast of email when a book released or someone had news, but now it seems like I'm inundated by it.

Look, we all have books for sale. I have 20 or so at last count, and no matter when they released, they're still out there, available for purchase. I write quirky mysteries, with a touch of spice, a touch of romance, a touch of 'gray' (my heroines and heroes are all in their mid-50s). If you're interested in books like that, check out my web site and read about the books.

I can guarantee you, there's something interesting that might grab your attention. Do you like pigs? I've got one where the pig digs up the body. How about nasty co-workers? I've got one where the heroine brings brownies to the potluck and somebody dies. How about college professors? I've got one where a college professor moonlights as an erotic writer and she almost gets busted (no, wait. She *does* get busted!)

Here's the thing: authors have interesting books out there. You have time you'd like to spend, reading those books. Will a promo blitz help you decide? I'm not sure any more. I need to be intrigued by something to spend my time on it, and any more, I'm not very intrigued by people who are constantly asking me to buy, retweet, or repost. I know you're anxious to sell sell sell, but just take a deep breath and relax. That book will be out there, ready for purchase, for a long time. Let folks find it and decide for themselves. You might be surprised who stumbles across your work....

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

A new day

I’ve been thinking about something that has been bothering me or a while now. Very recently I’ve gone through and epiphany of sorts. These things bring realizations that affect you and then change your conceptions. That is what has happened to me a change. A change which might not be noticeable right away to others but I know it and feel it. It’s a new day.

Taige Crenshaw
http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/
…increasing the sizzle factor

Blog: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/blog
Chat Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/crenshawcafe
Newsletter: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/newsletterandgroups.shtml
Free Reads Site: http://www.satinnotes.com/

Wilde Rapture - When a woman ducks into an alcove at a wedding she meets the man who is intriguing and will tempt her.

Buy here at Total-E-Bound.