Sunday, 24 May 2015

#SexySnippets He's cool, he's calm, and he's come to collect...#TheContract

#SexySnippet time

Where we give you seven consecutive sentences from a book or WIP

(and we're always ready to welcome new snippeters, just sign up where you check these other great snippets out)

(She's accidentally made him  spill coffee all over himself, and found him something to wear whilst his clothes are washed and dried. He's thanked her.)

"Oh there would be more benefits than my thanks for your cooking," Ruari drawled.
Where was cool air when you needed it? If it hadn’t looked so obvious, Nikki would have fanned herself with a tea-towel. Instead she opened the fridge and stuck her head inside its chilled interior. Did he know what those words did to her? A swift glance around the fridge door at his face told her that of course he did.
How on earth can you react so intensely to someone you've only just met? 

Thursday, 21 May 2015

Ten things we didn't know about...McKayla Schutt

Ten things about McKayla Schutt

1.      -I used to write about Vampires before I fell in love with Werewolves. Plus I think they are so much more interesting.
2.      -I still read Vampire books and books about magic like Harry Potter.
3.      -When my characters are growing I normally dream about them and what they are doing in the story. Sometimes this helps me if I am stuck in the story.
4.      -The Imprinted Series started out as a short story started in a challenge called A Story A Day in May.
5.      -Sometimes I watch my three dogs and how they interact and use that in my scenes to make it feel authentic.
6.      -I am a forgetful person, sometimes when I am starting off a new story I can’t remember the names of my characters, I know what they look like but the name always slips away.
7.      -I love to read in the rain, well on a porch with a cover so my book doesn’t get wet or inside with the window open so I can smell it.
8.      -I have a small garden growing inside because the weather can be a pain in the butt where I live.
9.      -Oreoes are my favorite writing food while Pepsi is my go to drink.
10.  -Family is the most important thing to me and they inspire me to write better.
Links for my books
Link to my Blog
Find me on Facebook and Twitter

Now's your chance to check her and her great books out...

Happy Reading,

Love R x

Wednesday, 20 May 2015

#MidWeekTease Where we wonder, what is...The Contract

Well it's out with Evernight Publishing on Friday...

so I thought, it just has to be my #MidWeekTease

Hell’s bells, I hope he's not going to choke to death.  Nikki stood up and thumped Ruari on the back until his choking slowed and stopped. His eyes were streaming, his chinos covered with best Jamaican brew, and he looked a mess. Her heart missed a beat and then raced. A gorgeous mess.
Oh glory, no. I do not want a complication like him in my life. No, no and NO. Damned if her heart ignored her and red hot, ‘oh my I wonder what if’, heat filled her. She ignored it as best she could. After all, hadn't he come to demand something of her and she had no idea what?
By the time Ruari's chest—a rather magnificent chest she judged even though it was covered in blue striped linen—stopped heaving, Nikki had her libido almost under control. Almost. She still had to admit he was a sight for sore eyes. And for an underused…she broke that train of thought off abruptly. She was not going to think of her lack of a sex life.
"I think maybe I'd best feed you. Food for the tummy not the soul." Nikki went into the kitchen, dampened a clean tea-towel and took it out to Ruari. "I'd say take them off and I'll shove them in a washer, but you'll need to wear a sheet or a towel if I do. I don't have any men's togs around."
"A sheet will do, I'm burning my bits off here." He dribbled the cool water from the tea-towel over his groin and sighed. "Better, much better."
She hadn't thought of that. "Then the bathroom is the third on the left. There's plenty of towels and I'll find a sheet."
Ruari disappeared at a fast waddle. His uneven gait, she suspected, had something to do with his desire to keep hot coffee away from tender skin. Nikki followed more slowly. She wasn't sure if her reawakened sex drive could cope with Ruari in a sheet.
As she rummaged through the airing cupboard something caught her eyes. Navy…shorts… She remembered with a heartfelt sigh, just what the cotton garment was.

Shorts. Men's shorts that Rhonda used to sleep in, and had washed a few days earlier. Obviously they'd got mixed up with the sheets and pillowcases and been forgotten. But would they be big enough? She held them up, doubtfully. Ah well at least he had a choice.

Catch all the other #MidWeekTeases 

Tuesday, 19 May 2015

#TantalisingTuesdays The Present

Happy TT day.

This photo gives me so many ideas...


(Source Pinterest)

The Present

Harrison McQueen and Ford Stevens looked at the woman who did her best to slink passed them, and then at each other.
'There she is," Harrison, known to all as Harry said gleefully. "The delectable Gail​. "You ready?"
Ford nodded and rattled the bag he held. "All in here."
"Bugger, hold on." Ford opened the bag and took the long slip of velvet out and handed it over. "Your job. I've got the handcuffs"
With well practiced ease they drew alongside Gail and boxed her in. She stopped dead as they took an arm each, and held her there.
"Hello pretty lady," Harry said. "I believe it's your birthday."
"A little bird told us you like the look of us, as long as we brought some friends." Ford added and jangled the handcuffs in her face.
"And you had to use your imagination and nothing else." Harry covered her eyes.
Now, sweet thing there's only a couple more things to do. Make sure you know your safe words."
"Redyellowgreen." The words tumbled over each other.
"And now?"
"Green." Her voice was breathy and full of eager arousal.

"Then I guess it’s time to say, Happy Birthday, let your present commence."

catch all the other #TT flashes by  clicking right here

Happy Reading,

Love R x

Monday, 18 May 2015

#TheMondayClub The Case Of The Missing Knickers #FreeRead week four A Short History of Baggage Handling

Are you panting to know more?

The saga continues...

Sunday began with the phone silent. There was no call, no text, nothing. I gave thanks for the fact we'd arrived at the outlet before it closed.

You see, I have a store where I buy ordinary undies, but Dh has to go through a certain USA airport and visit a certain underwear store on my behalf for me to be with my favorite knickers. It just so happens that this store didn't have a shop in the town we were staying in. No knicker shop so I had to get substitutes At least I could change clothes, even if it was a case of wear a T-shirt, wash a T-shirt. I made a large mental note never to pack all my knickers in my case again.

Sunday carried on…Dear husband gave in and rang That Airline. He put the phone onto loud speaker. "Oh it went to the courier. They returned it."

Well we knew that. But it seemed it had happened again. Déjà vu?

"We'll ring you by noon, and let you know what's happening."

Dh muttered. After all, it seemed like we were in a Whitehall Farce. Everything up until the enforced separation of the cases from each other had been totally understandable. Okay, my idiocy at not at least clutching one pair of designer knickers to my sticky little mitts—well my carry on bag—was silly, but apart from that, all was reasonable and acceptable. The lady at the Scottish airport had been efficient and pleasant. Most of the That Airline personnel were great but evidently we had to get the one who got out of bed on the wrong side.

Of course noon went by and the phone stayed silent. We went to the pub, via a shop for Dh to buy a razor. Designer stubble doesn't stay designer for long.

The jokes started. 'Thing a brief thong in memoweeey of your knickers'. 'Pants, pants, pants, pants…', 'Y front an airline with an employee who is pants'. 'Knock, knock. Who's there? Nicholas. Knickerless ladies fly with That Airline'. 'Who's made some bloomers?' Argh.

Eventually dear husband crumbled once more and rang them.

"Oh, I was about to ring you. Your luggage is at the airport near you. We flew it via another country to get it there. It's just going through customs. You'll get in within two hours."

Do you know how long two hours is? Longer than the clock says anyway. Several hours later, hubby rang again. Are you beginning to see a pattern emerge there?

 Oops, up popped the courier saga again.

"The courier brought them back to the airport."

"I was told they'd arrived via a brief tour of Europe at our nearest airport and would be couriered to us two hours ago," Dh said through gritted teeth. I handed him a Gin and Tonic and crept outside to sit in the sun in my shorts and borrowed vest top.

Half an hour later he emerged with an empty glass. It was refilled post haste. Someone, somewhere wasn't telling the truth. The problem was we had no idea who that someone was. And the male half of the marriage was due to fly down to London the next day—with the same airline, but only hand luggage thankfully—and yours truly would have to sort everything out.

I made copious notes, because let’s face it, it was my knickers’ lives with me at stake. I didn't want a brief encounter or a 'thongs' for the memory, or even 'pants' about knickers. I wanted my nice, lacy undergarments back.

Dh had been assured someone would ring me between eight thirty and nine thirty. Of course they didn't.

I rang them. Forty five minutes of 'please hold', and evidently being rerouted all around the airline, their couriers and for all I know, the sandwich shop on the corner, I got a real live person once more.

He was great. He promised to hunt them down, and asked me to hold for a few minutes. And it was only a few minutes, before he rang me back.

"It's just landed at your nearest airport."

Hold on, hadn’t I heard that before?

"But the man who runs the department is out at the plane so I can't check for you. I'll ring you back in half an hour. Is this the number?" He rattled off Dear husband's phone number, which we had changed to mine the day before. I gave him my number and he hung up.

I went for a walk with my mobile in tow. Of course it remained silent. I took myself into town, and replaced a couple of bikinis and vest tops and trousers. After all, by then I'd given up on getting my suitcase back. My lovely husband was going to have to go through a certain USA Airport before long or I'd get withdrawal symptoms. Maybe I could wear granny pants in protest.

I got back to the house and was handed a glass of Champagne in commiseration.

We were on our second, or was it third glass, when I got a text from Dh. He'd been contacted to say the cases would arrive at four thirty pm....

Happy Reading,

Love R x

Next week... The Boxers Rebellion...

Sunday, 17 May 2015


I love #SexySnippets. By reading them, you get a taste of lots of fantastic stories in seven sentences each.

Mine is below but you can check all the others out by  clicking here

At the moment I have a book on preorder, which will be out on early download from May 22nd

You can get hold of it by  clicking here

What was it with tall, dark men trying to be macho? Okay, she admitted he didn’t need to try very hard. Over six feet of what seemed—even to her un-lensed eyes—to be perfectly proportioned male, whose short dark hair, showed just a hint of curl. And those eyes, oh, those eyes. She'd bet they were deep, dark and what Miss M. would call enigmatic, they screamed macho without any effort. It still made her want to stamp on his toe to see if he squealed.

Jules swallowed—he was every woman’s fantasy—or nightmare—depending on how you looked at it.

Happy Reading,

Love R x