Wednesday, 30 May 2018

#MidWeekTease with thoughts on a dress

Hi all welcome to #MidWeekTease, 

which today is brought to you courtesy of my not yet published but got the cover art for my next book in the Naughty Forties series, DeAnne's Dilemma


What’s a woman to do when her far too sexy ex offers to scratch that itch? Go with it, of course, even if it does mean doing the dirty in a cupboard at her best friend’s wedding.
Deanne has never got over her separation from Quinn, so when she’s confronted with him at this wedding, feelings bubble to the surface for them both.
This time she is going to fight for the man she loves, and woe betide anyone who gets in her way.
Together, Quinn and DeAnne will overcome all odds... won’t they?

and your tease~~~

How on earth could I feel sexy, wearing an all in one, holdy-in, pants-girdle-underwear torture thingy? It was designed to cut off circulation worn under the bridesmaid’s dress from hell, with my sodding still handsome as hades, movie star, ex-husband smirking next to me, and I swear that man has x-ray eyes.
Yes, that is a hold your breath spit it out, nonsensical sentence, it needs to be to let me vent.
Not only that, as if it wasn’t enough to contend with, the world's press were in helicopters, circling above us like a swarm of angry bees. The bride was in tears of joy, the groom, an equally handsome but TV star not movies ditto. Everyone but me was drowning in happy, clappy, wedding heaven.
I swear if I could have ducked out, developed a rash, fever, even invented some hitherto undiscovered illness I would. 
Except the bride my best friend and a doctor to boot would tell me not to be a hypochondriac, and remind me we'd sworn as kids to be each other's maid or matron of honour, come what may. Even she’d said darkly, if one of us was in labor. Not that I was but wouldn’t that have been fun? I could just imagine it, pant, pant don’t push, say it... I do...argh...
Anyway, I digress. I plead guilty to that, it’s sort of in my nature. And after all if I’d been doing it for over forty years. I wasn’t likely to change now.
So, Sandy, today’s bride had flown back from somewhere exotic to be my only bridesmaid for my first—and as far as I’m concerned only time around—wedding.
Once bitten and all that.


Catch all the other #MidWeekTease posts 

Happy Reading,
love Raven xx

Sunday, 27 May 2018

#SexySnippets with a thought about men

Hi all, 

It's #SexySnippets time. Seven sentences from a book or WIP.

This week, I thought I'd tease you from a story that is, shall we say, simmering...

 (Souce pinterest, both this and pic below)

The problem with men is they really don't think things through, not like us women. I mean it's fine to set your alarm, five minutes before you need to get up and press the snooze button, if that's what rocks your boat.

It's not so fine  when you go right back to sleep, wake up ten minutes after the time you should have caught your train to the airport, and wake me up to take you.

Especially when a, you've not finished packing, b, I'm not coming with you (because if I had been this situation wouldn't have arisen), and c, it's only 4.45 am.

Which is why I'm on a triple shot expresso and wondering how the hell my beloved ever gets anywhere on time. 

And swearing that next time he can sort himself out, and be late or not get to where he's going. 

No, okay, I'm a sucker and I wouldn't do that to him, but ggrrr... It's just as well I love him, irritating habits and all. 

Did I tell you about the time we...


Oops no sentences left to share more wink

Catch all the other #SexySnippets here

Happy reading, love Raven xx

Wednesday, 23 May 2018

#MidWekTease, where Jess wonders why she is so apprehensive

It's that time again...

Hi all, here's this week's #MidWeekTease

The other day, I drove past the ruined castle I used (when I'd rebuilt it of course) for the Diomhair, series. So I thought I'd tease with a bit from Secrets Remembered, the first book.

Diomhair—what happens there, stays there.

and your tease...

(Kath has decided Jess will go to Diomhair, just to see what it's like. She's not so keen)

The cab wasn’t what she’d call a cab. It was a black limo with the rear windows dark. Standing by the door and holding it open was the most drop-dead hunk of a guy she’d seen in a long while. Her clit went into overdrive and sent

messages pulsing through her body, and her juices out of her pussy to soak her knickers. If he was a chauffeur, his uniform was unusual to say the least. Indigo blue denims and a black silk shirt fit as if they had been sprayed onto him and there was a black leather jacket thrown carelessly on the seat next to him.
He stared at her with dark almost-black eyes, his face blank. All of a sudden, the arousal Jess had felt dried up faster than an oasis in the midst of a desert summer. She shook,
not with arousal, but with worry. Something about him, and the way he watched her so closely, spelled trouble.
It seemed Kath had no such qualms as she waved to him as they approached the car. Jess had no chance to hang back because Kath held her as tight as a limpet clung to a rock.
“Thank you, Ma—David. This is Jessica.”
Jess had no time to wonder what her companion had been going to say before the man bowed and smiled.
“Jessica, welcome.”
She didn’t think so. His voice rumbled through her, and set off a minor earthquake in her clit. She didn’t welcome it. Cocoa, a good book and her yellow duck jammies had never seemed more of a good idea than then. 

You can buy this and all the other Diomhair books from all leading  retailers both as an eBook and a paperback.

and catch all the other #MidWeekTease authors here

Happy reading,

love Raven xx

Monday, 21 May 2018

The Gluten Free Author's Guide to goodies—or not—in Barbados

Long time no post, I know. Did you wonder where I was?

Finishing a book by my softer, sweeter side, Katy Lilley (New Beginnings for Bryony Bennett, out this week on 24th).

And on holiday. 

Which means, today I'm chatting about Barbados where I've just been lucky enough to spend several gorgeous weeks. 

It was hard to leave, I tell you. It's such a friendly island, and you soon feel part of life there.

The company, sun, sand, sea, and scenery were perfect. The villas exactly what we wanted, and we came home relaxed and knowing we'd had a fantastic time.

And the food....

Well what can I say?

Barbados does gluten free food in general very well. 

You might need, as they say,  a second mortgage for some of it, it's not cheap, but it's there. (frozen g-f pizza bas around £10 for instance) Plus a lot of it isn't quite what we're used to in the UK, but that's all part of the fun of discovering new places and new foods. 

The main thing it is easily available. Both in the supermarkets and restaurants.

I found all the basics in the main supermarkets across the island, much more than on previous visits. The main stores—Massy—sell a lot of Waitrose stuff. It feels a bit surreal drinking Waitrose wine in Barbados. (At twice the price of home *wink* 

They also have a dedicated g-f shelf. Perfect.

As for eating out?

As we split our time between Holetown and Hastings, my main meals out were around those places, but I got fantastic fish as you would expect, at The Fish Pot, at Little Good Harbour. That restaurant never fails.

Great food great views and great company.

We also went to Little Arches at Enterprise Beach, where they use as many local ingredients as possible, and I had g-f gluten free fish and chips. Proper fish and chips. 

The Art Cafe in Hastings do gluten free wraps but you have to get there early, because they sell out fast. However it's worth it. Filling, tasty and enormous.

And all with fantastic views.

I could go on and on. The Sunset Bar in Holetown, Cutters near Crane, a beach bar in Speightstown whose name I forget (sorry my bad). Plus lots of places we didn't go to this year, but have done in the past. Tides, Tapas, Atlantic Hotel... to name a few.)

Champers at Rockley Beach, where we celebrated a birthday, and the birthday boy got a cake and a candle and the two g-f-ers their own menu. (I've been here several times over the years and had several celebration meals—with g-f menu and candle—and it's superb.

(Pic Champers web)

I always travel with at least a loaf, just in case. This time it was sensible as we landed on a Sunday, after the supermarket in Holetown closed, but as long as the supermarkets are open, you're fine. (Check opening hours, They don't open on Founders Day or Labour Day for instance, and some close earlier than others, especially on a Sunday)

You'll not starve, and it is fun trying different types of g-f food. The sweet waffles in the freezer are amazing. 

(Source, Kelloggs)

If you fancy a BBQ, it's easy. Not all but a lot of the food have the g-f symbol on them (some sausages for instance). Salad food is a bit hit and miss, but nip to Oistins and buy your fish and watch it being prepared for you.

I even, in a fit of housewifery madness bought flour and made buns. Now they were...shall we say...different. But that was because the flour wasn't good old UK g-f Self Raising. Even so, I was all over happy.

Now I can't wait to go back. And without a suitcase full of g-f food. (More space to hit the shops in duty free eh?)

Happy g-f holidays,

Raven xx

Sunday, 20 May 2018

(sort of) #SexySnippets with a room with more than a view

Hi all, welcome to #SexySnippets. Or as mine is called today (sort of) #SexySnippets

That's because I'm not sure how sexy it is.

(unedited word vomit)

"You know, we remind me of that old TV add where the women all watch out of the window at work, waiting for the sexy window cleaner or something to appear."

"We don't have chocolate, there's no window cleaner, and we're not at work."

"True, but we are looking out of the window, waiting for a sexy someone to appear." 

That's because you've got the hots for someone and I quote, you call the sexiest thing ever since sliced bread with banana sandwiches, and I personally can't see said sarnie as sexy."

"Maybe not but I bet you secretly do think he's sex on legs and worth lusting after, and I reckon the way he always looks up and winks, that if you made a move, well, if he played his cards right he could have you."

"I wonder if you're right or if it would be worth it? Perhaps I 'd prefer a book boyfriend who I can shut up when I want to and not worry about bed hair, bed breath, edible dinners or pink bedsheets with pandas all over them?"


Catch all the other #SexySnippets here

Happy reading,
love Raven x

Saturday, 19 May 2018

Got me a guest... Nicola Cameron and a sparkling excerpt from her new book, To my Muse...

And it's on my TBR pile. Sounds amazing...

A wee note from Nicola...

Hello, and thanks so much for having To My Muse on your blog today. If I’m being honest with everyone, the tagline for this book should be, “Loosely based on a kind of true story!”

Back in March 2017, I pinged the extremely talented, kind, and tolerant actor Louis Herthum on Twitter and told him that he’d helped to inspire my new dystopian SF romance novel Degree of Resistance with his performance in Westworld. This resulted in a brief but lovely chat, at the end of which I asked if he’d like a print copy of Degree. To my delight, he said yes and told me where to send the book. The next day I signed a spandy new copy to him, packaged it up, and mailed it off, happy as a clam.

Six hours later, I had a nervous breakdown.

See, since I write romance novels that tend towards the explicit side of things, sex scenes don’t shock me. They’re just another part of the plot, and not even the most interesting part a lot of the time. But I forget that civilians don’t always share that view, and I had just sent a perfectly nice stranger a book that had some rather hot (well, no—extremely hot) scenes in it. Worse, I’d told him that he had inspired the plot. I was belatedly but absolutely convinced that he would put two and two together and come up with, “Note to self—make sure this pervert never comes within 50 yards of me.”

Panicking, I called my friend T. As she tried to talk me down, pointing out that 1) Lou’s a guy, so it was highly unlikely that 2) he would read a romance novel, even one with heavy SF themes, and 3) would probably just stick it on a shelf as a nice piece of egoboo, I was busy coming up with an insane plan—I would fly to LA, break into his agent’s office, steal back the book, and nobody would be the wiser. Brilliant! It would work!

Why, yes, I’m a little neurotic when it comes to my writing, why do you ask?

Needless to say, I was talked out of this. But after I calmed down I did have to admit that it was a hell of a funny idea. And when I decided to try writing a contemporary romantic comedy, it popped back into my head and waved its little hands, saying, “Me! Use me!” Seeing as I’d already lost some of my sanity and a largish patch of stomach lining on the concept, I figured why not. To My Muse is the result.

By the way, this book? No sex. Lots of comedy and banter between my leads, but no sex. Yes, I’m shocked as well. But boy, it was a ball to write.

Contemporary Romance, Romantic Comedy, MF
Word Count: 67,000
Heat Level 2
Published by Belaurient Press
ISBN: 978-0-46-328424-7


Ever do something really, really dumb?

When too much tequila and an enabling BFF put Lily Nayar's romance novel Feast of Lovers into the hands of its inspiration, sexy British actor Tom Morrison, Lily is horrified. Now she's determined to get her book back, even if that means breaking into Tom's hotel room to do it.

With the help of a strategic lie and a charismatic knight, Lily's screwball plan catapults her into the middle of her very own Cinderella story, Hollywood style. But will a vengeful actress ruin Lily's shot at a real life HEA with Tom?



Giving Theresa a thumbs up, I closed the door and turned my attention to the hotel room. It had already been cleaned and the bed was neatly made. A suitcase sat on the valet stand next to the TV, and the dresser and desk held various pieces of paper, notes, and a couple of plastic shopping bags, all the usual stuff when you’re stuck in a hotel room for a couple of weeks.

Of course, the fangirl part of my brain was screeching like a gibbon at me that I was in Tom Morrison’s hotel room. He’d slept in that very bed last night. Sat at that desk to check his email and Facebook. Took a dump behind the closed door of what I assumed was the bathroom. The prosaic nature of that last bit helped me regain some self-control, and I tiptoed (why, I don’t know, I’m an idiot) over to the desk. There was what looked like a script for GearShifter on it, as well as a MacBook Pro, but no Feast of Lovers. Bad Tom, no leaving your expensive computer equipment out where people can steal it.

I wanted to leaf through the script so badly, but I ignored it and kept looking for Feast. Not on the desk top, not on the dresser, not on the TV. I was starting to worry that he’d taken it with him to the location when I noticed the suitcase. I truly, honestly hated the idea of going through his personal stuff, but he might have stuck it in there. I could just lift the lid, take a peek, maybe it was in plain sight—

I had the lid in hand when the bathroom door swung open and a tall, beautiful blonde in a towel strutted out. “I thought I heard you—” she purred, before she saw me. Both face and tone iced over. “Who the hell are you?”

I let out a noise that could have been used as a sound effect for a creaking vault door. The blonde stalked closer, looming over me. Up close, I could see some fine lines around her eyes, but she was still ridiculously gorgeous. “What are you doing here?” she snapped.

Oh. Oh, shit. My brain informed me that I was currently sharing a room with Claudine Ellery, the actress playing Tom’s antagonist/love interest on the show. What the hell was she doing in his bathroom? Were they dating in real life? Why was I asking stupid questions when I should be turning and running for my freaking life?

And then Fate decided that she needed an even bigger chuckle because the room door opened and Tom Morrison walked in. I caught a glimpse of an apologetic Theresa hovering in the hallway before she was eclipsed by Tom, who was staring at Claudine and me.

Oh, God. He was even better looking in person. Not all actors are, but Tom—he was edible. Curly black hair, eyes the color of dark chocolate, and lips that I’d wanted to kiss since the first time I saw him on screen. With faded jeans that fit him perfectly, a dusty white button-down with rolled up sleeves, just the right amount of chest hair peeping out of his collar, and the cutest smudge of dust across one laser-sharp cheekbone, he was every one of my fantasies come to warm, tall life right in front of me.

And I had broken into his hotel room.

That was it. I was going to jail, assuming that the cops didn’t just see “brown person” and shoot me when they got here. At the very least I’d get fired from Golden State. Mom and Dad would disown me, Dada and Dadi would die of shame, and Derek would probably take out an ad in the LA Times saying that I was adopted. My only hope was that Theresa had gotten the hell out of here. There was no reason for both of us to go down for my stupidity—

“Lilian, darling, what are you doing here?”

My brain skidded to a halt. Words had come out of Tom Morrison’s mouth. Friendly words. While he was staring directly at me. Looking, if I may say so, as if he was talking to someone he knew. Which he didn’t, because I may not have remembered sending him my book but I would definitely remember meeting him.

“Um. Hi?” I waved weakly.

“I thought you decided not to come out this weekend.” He crossed to me, slipping an arm around my shoulders as he stared at Claudine. He squeezed my shoulder once, kind of hard, then did it again.

Even with my brain in fangirl vapor lock I can take a hint. I had no idea how he knew who I was, but he wanted me to play along. Plastering a grin on my face, I slipped my arm around his waist and squeezed back. His torso felt like warm rock, and he smelled so good.

“Well, I figured I needed a road trip,” I extemporized, giving him a bright smile. “And I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Not at all, angel,” he purred. Up close, I could see a hint of relief in his eyes. It disappeared as he turned to Claudine. “Claud, why are you in my room wearing a towel?” he asked politely.

She planted hands on slim hips, cocking her head to the side. “Seriously? You have to ask why?”

“Yes, because if I remember correctly, I told you that I had no interest in going to bed with you. In fact, I’m quite sure I informed you of this on numerous occasions. And when I walk into my hotel room and see you wearing nothing but terrycloth while my girlfriend,” this time his squeeze was gentle, “is standing there looking gobsmacked, I have to wonder what the actual fuck you’re up to.”

My face went rigid as it tried to hold onto my smile. Girlfriend? Eeeeeeeee…


Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of "y'all," much to her Chicago family's dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in romance and sex since puberty, it wasn't until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to speculative romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture...).

Happy Reading,

love Raven x