Tag Archives: #amreading

Available for PreOrder: Alley Cats

My pal Becca Patterson recently finished her short story and Hearth and Forge debut, Alley Cats. It’s currently available for pre-order at a discounted price, and will be released on 4/30. You should totally get your copy today!

HF 03 Alley CatsWhile on a mission to catch the squirrel who teased him through the window, Rowr’s people moved without him. Determined to find them, he stumbles, hungry and filthy, into a back alley owned by Maow, a queen with the desire to live alone.

Maow keeps the mouse population under control and the tom cats at bay in her alley. But there’s something about the pitiful kittypet who falls at her feet one night after a nasty rat bite.

How are these two supposed to get along when neither is what the other wants?

Maybe Bress can help with that. When he’s not dealing with the mishaps inside the Hearth and Forge and his wife’s fiery temperament. One poorly phrased comment could send him to the doghouse. Or in his case, the barn.

***

While you’re waiting for that to release, might I recommend immersing yourself in the Hearth and Forge world with An Honest Puck by Misty Carlisle and Nerdgasm by me?

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Tuesday Tease: The Prussian Dispatch

51wjGcKvEQL._SX326_BO1,204,203,200_David Nielson may not write romance, but he does weave the threads of mystery and crime seamlessly into his Sophie Rathenau series! Here’s a sample of the first in the historical crime series, The Prussian Dispatch.

***

With nothing in her purse, Sophie Rathenau can’t refuse work, even from a down-at-heel pimp. But tracing the woman who’s gone off with his document is a chancy business. A gang of Prussian maniacs are hunting for it too, as well as thugs from the shadowy Versailles Club, and a Polish countess desperate to preserve her country. Caught up in an international conspiracy, Sophie’s only weapons are her sardonic tongue and an old cavalry pistol. But it’ll take more than those to find the dispatch, keep a vengeful Chancellor at bay, and deal with a past that threatens to engulf her. “The Prussian Dispatch” is the first in a series of novels from the era of Mozart and Maria Theresia.

Sophie Rathenau remembers the evening before her wedding in 1760s Dresden, just after the Seven Years’ War.
Late sunlight glistens on the dome of Our Lady’s. Sapphire with azure spots, my dirndl is thin, but my blouse is puffed at the shoulders, blue stitching at the neck and sleeves.
We don’t have much of anything. Half the world is ruined. But the war is over.
I lounge in the glow, a silk wrap tight at my elbows. The stone bench has soaked up warmth all day. It tingles through the grit under my soles. I want to sit here forever. I want to watch the river flow, count the arches of the Augustus Bridge.
“Good of them to call it after you,” I murmur.
His head shifts near mine. I lean against his shoulder, my eyes half closed, fixed on two joined dragonflies.
“Madame,” he says, “your nose is in my ear.” There’s a scroll of gold embroidery at his burgundy collar, a modest ruff at his neck. After the uniform, he doesn’t care for a patterned jacket.
“By dose is itchy.” I rub it from side to side. That ear’s a bit deaf since he came back. I settle my chin beside it, my cheek on his hay-coloured stubble.
His fingers slip into my hair, easing strand from strand. “I had a retriever who laid her head on my shoulder like that.” His voice is as warm as the stone, but I don’t hear the Salzburg hinterland the way I used to. He’s been gone a while.
I growl. “And you’re supposed to be a diplomat.” His ear is neat, tucked-in. I run the tip of my tongue around its rim.
“Daun’s the diplomat. All I do is keep quiet and look fierce.”
I press my ribs against his, thinking I smell pine needles. I always do with him. “Stick to what you’re good at.” I know that Daun values his opinion on the clauses.
His lower lip juts out. Its fullness would seem petulant on another man, his chin fleshy. I think they round out a square and solid face. “You have a bodyguard, too, Fräulein Süssmayr. She’ll be wild.”
I grin. It was easy to lose Aurelia at the Holy Cross. By the time she missed me in the ruins, the shard of its tower stood between us. I walked in the Zwinger and to the Residence, till he came out with Daun and the others.
“I’ll make it up to her.”
My hands, one atop the other, don’t look large on my apron. My naked fingers, shades of sand in the evening sun, tug the knot at the centre of my waist. After tomorrow, I’ll tie it on the right.
The hairs at the tips of his eyebrows are light and fine, hatching into the crinkles around his eyes. “You don’t still want Saint Sophia?”
I smile. “That would be nice. But there’s only one Catholic church in Dresden. If we’re getting married, it has to be in there. And Saint Sophia doesn’t look like that.”
The Court Church is a cutter in full sail, docked on the river. Its tower soars like a mast. He takes hold of my shoulders and eases me around. “Nor that.”
The slim grey bell of Our Lady’s, ringed by four cupolas, rises over the gallery behind us. He shakes his head as he stares up. Behind his hazel eyes there’s a web of scaffolding, hoists, and blocks fitting high above. He loves knowing how things work. I feel, sometimes, he sees me the same way.
I rest my chin on my fists. “Do you ever think that one day people could stand here, gaze up, and not see that? That something so big, so graceful, could disappear?”
It’s a miracle the church is still standing. A lot of the city is rubble. The Prussians weren’t good for it.
He stretches his legs. Gravel scatters, and the sun gleams on the buttons at his knee.
“We’ll be long gone, if that happens.” His hands inch around my waist.
I caress his shoulder. “Careful with that arm.”
“You’ll be Sophie Rathenau.” He squeezes my ribs gently. “Tomorrow.”
The sun slips over the Bastion Sol. I link my wrists at his neck, drawing him to me, saying his name. A last glint laps under the bridge.
*****
Ex-lecturer and educational marketer David Neilson lives on the Rhine growing runner beans, courgettes, and kohlrabi, and writing Sophie Rathenau stories: a historical crime series based in eighteenth-century Vienna.
A personal tour of Sophie’s world, with images of many of the locations, historical characters, and objects in the novels, is available on Pinterest: http://bit.ly/2g2sasi

Tuesday Tease: RedDress Two Wives

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Welcome back to Tuesday Tease! This week, I feature Native American contemporary romance author RA Winter’s book RedDress Two Wives.

 

Sarah’s beau left her. She didn’t excite him.
To reinvent herself, she travels to New York, where she meets John. A sexy voice on the phone.
What could go wrong?
Get caught with a vibrating purple…? Check.
Entertaining a threesome with a blow-up doll? Yep.
Geez, and let’s not forget the manure. Esh.

John enjoyed the color splashes, and the dining room table looked fit for a royal dinner. He could see himself here… nope. Don’t go there Johnny boy, she’ll leave soon. For now, it’s all fun for me.

John walked towards the bedroom, his mind on Sarah. She was always a good distraction from work.

Naay. Giddy up there li’l doggie. Ha!

Shut up! Damn.

He rounded the corner and stopped. Sarah sat on the stairs with a whip in hand, vibrator dancing and a…

Blow up doll?

“Ahh, zmy human toy hast arrived,” she said in a funky accent, her voice low and sensual. “Ursula und I zare here to conquer zhe human race and demand ze blood. Zerr blood.” She flicked her whip and jumped up, then marched around him. Her fingers raked down his arm, she grabbed her dangly and turned it on, grinning as it came to life. She unbuttoned her corset and flung it aside. “I’ve been told zzthat a human male can only last zso long before losing control.” Sarah ran her whip over John’s body. She stopped at his maleness and rub it against her. “Ursula is my second in command. She will join us to see who vill zlast zlonger.”

John snickered. He had no idea where this was going, but it sure was different, he’d give her that. Maybe she didn’t mind his stupidity.

She undid his pants, yanking them down toward his knees. Her lips followed her actions as she kissed his skin. His blood pressure skyrocketed and flew through John, pulsating his penis to life. She licked his thigh, stroking his penis as her eyes stared up at him. The dildo buzzed, filling the air with electricity.

“Argh!” A shrill scream ripped through the house, obliterating all fun and amusement.

“Mom, what are they doing?” A sweet girl’s voice asked, her innocence shattered. John turned, horrified to find a family glaring at him. Sarah paused with her mouth open, so close to the throbbing manhood, and gaped at the family. Her lips widened as her eyes darted between the family and John’s erection. Stunned, she balanced on her heels, frozen with horror.

The vibrator buzzed.

A young boy stood with hands on his hips, wearing a sailor t-shirt. His eyes grew as he stared at Sarah and bit his lips. A young girl, a little older stood beside him, her eyes roamed over John. Her brow furrowed. The dad grinned, then caught himself as his wife inhaled. The lady turned red, then purple as veins exploded on her skin.

The little boy inhaled and whispered to his mother, “Will mine turn purple when I’m older, Mommie?”

“Can I play with your dolly when you’re done?” The girl pointed to Ursula.

Sarah’s eyes moved back and forth. Penis, family, penis, family.

“Ahh, but Sissy,” The boy said, “It’s got a big hole in its mouth.”

“It’s a purple people eater,” the girl whispered. Her mother inhaled. “It’s got a one eye and one horn, like the song.” The mom grabbed both children then placed her hands over their eyes. She kicked her husband as he continued to stare at the naked pair.

Sarah inhaled.

The vibrator buzzed.

John grabbed his pants and hurried to pull them on. Prodded into action, Sarah clasped Ursula in front of her nakedness. Crouched low, she waddled towards the stairs, Ersula’s legs in front of her. John slid on the leg and fell headfirst into Sarah’s dildo. Sarah clung to Ursula, and down she went, the heel in an unconventional sandwich.

The husband’s eyes went dreamy. The boy jumped away from his mother and laughed.

“I want to see too,” his sister said. The mother clasped her tighter and dragged her toward her brother. She reached but he evaded her grasp, eyes wide with wonder.

“Wait, let me explain,” John yelled as he squashed Ursula. Her head ballooned under the pressure, her eyes expanded as her mouth widened into an O. John crawled off the ‘girls’, dragging Ursula with him.

The husband stared.

Buzzz.

The mother yelled, grabbed her children and pushed them towards the door. “I’m suing! My children will need therapy for life!”

The boy turned around, “Why does she have a purple pee-pee, isn’t she a girl?”

His mother screamed at him and ushered them towards the door.

The girl yelled, “But, Mommy, I want a dolly too!”

“Paul,” she snapped. She turned and glared at her husband. “Paul!”

“Oh, yes dear,” he said. He took one last, lingering look at Sarah’s body and her buzzing vibrator.

Sarah crouched lower and moaned. She reached for the dildo and fumbled with the switch. The motion increased and so did the sound. Sarah’s eyes widened as she stared at the family.

“Paul!”

“Just getting the details for the lawsuit. Don’t want to leave anything out, now do we?”

“Stop, don’t leave until I explain!” John pleaded to the retreating family.

“Shit!”

“Wait till everybody at school hears about this. A real live purple people eater!”

*****

RA Winter, began her writing career under her married name, writing genealogy books. However, her love for reading romance novels intruded in on her daily activities. She started writing “Little Sparrow” and fell in love with her characters and is writing many more books in the Romantic Western series, “Kiowa in Love”. Each one of Grandfather’s grandchildren will have their story told, as will Grandfather himself. RA spent many years traveling the world and has lived in many different countries. Turkey, Egypt, Germany, and Jordan, have all been called “home” at one time or another. Now you can find her quietly living in Pittsburgh, Pa