Thursday, February 9, 2017

He's sexy and he knows it #MustRead #Romance Adventure

Checking out Larry, the sexy and reckless boat captain from Duplicity. He's hot, dangerous, doesn't really give a damn about much, but when he loves---ooo, baby, he loves hard. He's in the spotlight today on Tantalizing Thursday! 

Excerpt...Adult Content

"I'm sorry." Larry treaded water behind her.

"You should be." She blinked away the tears, unwilling for him to see her crying after he'd basically instructed her to do so earlier.

"I can't explain it."

"I didn't ask." She moved away from the hull and swam toward the back of the boat, tired of swimming and needing space. She spit water from her mouth before grabbing the ladder leading up the back of the stern.

His hands closed over her fingers. His breath caressed the side of her face. "I am not a Hollywood caricature of anything. I'm me. This is who I am."

She closed her eyes and savored the sensation of his naked body sliding against her backside. "But you don't like plates?"

He laughed and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Can we just forget about all that? I will be the first to admit that I'm an asshole."

Unsmiling, she turned within the circle of his arms, wrapped her legs around his hips, and pushed the wet hair from where it streaked across his face. "Why did you think someone paid me to pretend? Why would anyone go to such extremes?"

Something flickered deep within his blue eyes but he didn't look away. "I've got sort of a fucked up family. It's a long story, one I'd rather not discuss, but this is me. What you see here, what I've built on Grand Cayman, my friends, all of hundred percent authentic."

She curved her thumb along his cheekbones and nodded. "I'm trying to do the right thing. I'm not a bad person. I don't want to die."

He shook his head. "I won't let that happen."

"You said you weren't my bodyguard," she reminded him with a small smile, once again trying to hold the tears at bay. "You're just my captain, remember?"

"Yeah, well, I'm full of shit." He smiled against her lips before licking the salt from them. "I really am sorry for losing it up there—"

"I forgot about it the moment you stripped," she whispered against his mouth.

"One drunken night is a hook up and nothing more...but the second time feels much more deliberate." He hesitated a breath away from her face, his blue eyes dark with both desire and concern.

"Let me guess," she pressed closer to him, enjoying the feel of the metal ladder pressing against her back while the warm Caribbean Sea lapped against their bodies, "you're not the kind of guy who usually has more than a one night stand."

"Stop worrying about the kind of guy I am."

"That means I'm right?" She nuzzled her nose against the side of his face. The dread that had sunk her heart only minutes earlier dissipated.

"Do you really care about anything beyond this moment?" He brushed his lips over her neck, his massive body making her feel small and vulnerable in the water.

She didn't care about anything except the sensations of warm water, metal, heat, salt, his body, his mouth, his breath. Sounds of the rope holding the dingy behind the main yacht slapping against the hull competed with the sound of her heartbeat reverberating in her ears.

She slid her hands down his chest to his waist and back again. "I totally understand why the coeds go for you even though you're past your prime."

He laughed against her neck before pulling away and looking her in the eye. "Past my prime, huh? My bet is that we're the same age."

Her lips twitched because she knew she'd hit a nerve. Obviously, they were both in their thirties, but she hadn't been able to resist a dig. Feeling more adventurous than she had in a long time, she grabbed the steps of the ladder, unwrapped her legs from around him, moved up toward the boat, and pressed her breasts against his face. He licked her abdomen as she slid past him toward the deck and she smiled at the gleam in his eye.

He followed, covering in her body with his before she was fully out of the water. Flat on the lower deck used for divers to come in and out of the sea with the ocean sloshing beneath them, he captured her mouth in a kiss that left her breathless with need.

Passion from the night before had been fueled by whiskey, but today it erupted from pure desire. She couldn't get enough of touching him, kissing him—couldn't get enough of him manhandling her as if she were his plaything.

No man had ever before triggered her into this frenzied lovemaking. She craved him. It was as if inhibition had evaporated in the sea breeze and all common sense had been left on land.

He nipped, pinched, licked, and kissed every inch of her until she slapped her hands at her sides and prayed for release. The boat rocked beneath them, saltwater splashed over their joined bodies, and the sun dipped lower in the sky.

He consumed her, his body claiming hers while his mouth crushed her lips.

keep reading!

From the back cover...

Nothing bad happens in paradise...or does it?

Lexi Dubois is in trouble. On Grand Cayman for business, she discovers the company she's been working for is funding a human trafficking ring—and the money trail leads back to her. Scared for her life, she charters a boat for a week to hide from the men on the small island who want her dead and to buy time to find enough evidence to take them down. The last thing she expects—or wants—is a torrid affair with the hot captain and dive master.

Larry Gibbon has been running a charter dive boat operation in Grand Cayman for years. He's seen it all—and done his share of creating havoc. But when a mysterious woman charters his boat for a week—alone—he has no idea what trouble she's bringing aboard.

The ocean is vast and unforgiving, but will Larry's knowledge of the Cayman Islands and Lexi's relentless determination to survive be enough to save them?

**The Wanderlust Series consists of stand-alone adventure romance novels. Occasionally, characters from previous novels may make a cameo, but each story truly does stand on its own merits.

Thursday, February 2, 2017

#SneakPeek of the #ParanormalRomance Suspense Deadly Decadence

Sneak peek of my upcoming erotic paranormal romance suspense novel, Deadly Decadence. It's suspenseful, passionate, and is guaranteed to have you twisting in your seat asking for more. Here's an excerpt!
18+ content

He grabbed her wrist when she reached for his plate. The zap of energy that sizzled from her skin onto his caused him to drop it as fast as he'd grabbed it and push back from the table. 

"What are you?" he asked, feeling stupid for blurting out the question.

She stood frozen in place, her face averted, and chest heaving with rapid breath. "You should go."

He stepped a few paces backward and waited.

Waited for her to blurt out another revelation. 

Waited for his body to stop trembling with the need to get naked.

Waited for his brain to gain control of this situation.

Waited for her to say something—anything—that would convince him to flee when he wanted nothing more than to stay. 

When she finally lifted her head and looked at him, the need in her eyes erased any doubt or hesitation.

He strode to her, grabbed her face between his hands, and crushed his mouth against hers until she sank against him and clutched at his shoulders. 

He didn't want to think. 

He didn't give a shit about consequences. 

He didn't want to hide behind self-control and self-denial and self-delusion. 

He wanted to indulge in primal instinct. 

He peeled the tank top from her while she yanked the t-shirt from him. They were a tangle of hands and fingers and lips as they tripped their way to the lounge chair. Clothes fell aside until they were skin-on-skin.
She bit his shoulder. 

He squeezed her breast. 

He'd never wanted to fuck anyone like this before—pure fucking. Animalistic. Hot. No talking. No thinking. 

Mouths merged in a heated kiss while he rammed his cock into her without mercy. The tightness of her pussy urged him on, begged him to go harder and faster. He couldn't get enough of her. His hands were on her breasts, thumbs tormenting her nipples. His shaft was deep inside of her, hips grinding against hers. Tongues plunged inside each other's mouths, insistent, almost urgent in their dance. 

The heels of her feet dug into his ass, holding him tight against her as her soft body pressed against his with an equal passion.  She tugged at his hair until it felt like strands were being pulled from his skull.

He wanted to come but tried to wait her out. He slid one hand between their bodies and moved his finger over her clit. 

She bit him again, sucked his neck, nipped his jawline. Her hot breath teased his skin when she moaned and her body lurched beneath his. 

He came with a shout into her open mouth. He hadn't given one thought to protection—and he hadn't given a damn. 

Chest heaving against hers, he buried his face in her hair and squeezed her breast one more time before sliding his hand to her back and holding her close. He shut his eyes and indulged in the feeling of his penis firmly entrenched in her body with her legs and arms holding him tight. 

"Let's do that again," she whispered against his ear. 

He smiled, any fear of this being awkward erased by her simple suggestion. "I noticed you had a hot tub."

"Sex in the hot tub sounds like the perfect way to end the day." She pushed her hands through his hair and urged his head up to look him in the eye. "To think I couldn't even look at you this morning and now you're cock deep inside of me---strange how the Universe works."

"Why couldn't you look at me?" He kissed her again, slowly, savoring her as deeply as he'd enjoyed her various baked goods. When he looked her in the eye, he noticed them deepening in color and felt her slight emotional withdrawal thanks to his question. "Are you a witch?" 

She laughed as an answer and smacked him in the shoulder. "I'm not a magical being of any kind—just a psychic slash animal communicator slash baker. Are you a witch?"

He widened his eyes and shifted his weight, conscious of the fact that they were still joined together. "Me? I don't do anything remotely magical."

"Oh, I don't know about that..." she slid her fingers down his back and cupped his ass. "You managed to get my clothes off after knowing me less than two hours. That's pretty magical."

"From my point of view, it was a mutual seduction." 

"Mine, too." She winked before wiggling free of him and scooting to her feet. With a sigh, she stretched her arms above her head toward the night sky and sauntered toward the hot tub. "Come on, Magic Man, I'm ready for round two."

Already hard at the idea of sinking into her again, he followed like a dog in heat. 


Blake Donovan thinks his family is dead. Under a fog of suspicion from everyone ranging from the FBI to the mafia, he's moved constantly since receiving the news of the fatal plane crash in the hopes of starting over and being free of his past. But his German Shepherd, Greg, is suffering from the restless relocations and Blake seeks a solution with the local animal communicator slash baker.

Lisa Vandemeer, former psychic consultant with the FBI, moved to Santa Fe to lead a simple life as a baker and animal communicator. People were too heartbreaking for her to handle anymore. When the mysterious man with the sad German Shepherd shows up on her doorstep, her first instinct is to rescue the dog and kick the man to the curb. But then she sees unwanted visions from his past--and their future--that bind them in supernatural ways. 

Many interested parties want to know the secrets Lisa sees, but if she follows through with what she knows, she'll not only be putting Blake's life in jeopardy, she'll also be changing the course of her own forever. To tell or not tell? Open that door again or keep it forever shut? As she soon discovers, the decision is out of her hands as they are trapped in a deadly and decadent web of deceit. 

Releasing February 14, 2017
To stay up to date on the release to be the first to get it, follow Dakota Skye on Facebook at or on Twitter at

To see all books by Dakota Skye, please visit her website at

Friday, January 27, 2017

Getting Freaky in Denver--You Channeled What Now?

I've been into the woo-woo stuff for years. I've dabbled in crystals, tarot cards, spiritualists, psychics and mediums, name it and I'm open to learn about it. So last week when the opportunity to attend a channeler presented itself, I thought, 'why not?' Off I went.

In the basement of a historical home in Denver's Governor's District was a cute office space lit with candles and incense and earth-toned walls. Although small, twelve of us fit perfectly in the main room. Out came a petite gray-haired woman with a New York accent, our hostess for the night. She explained that she channeled spirit guides and spoke in their light language. I nodded, sipped my water, unwrapped a Hershey's kiss (I'd secretly pocketed a handful when I entered), and prepared to be open-minded.

She started by talking about love and shedding our stories of what we believe to be true. This resonated with me as someone who's studied self-awareness for over a decade. I am reading on the subject of perceptions and universal connection all of the time. I honestly believe that we can tell ourselves a story so many times that it becomes somewhat skewed and that the truth lies between the lines.

As I'm nodding and sitting there, thinking I'm giving off a peaceful vibe as I allow the Herhey's Kiss to melt in my mouth, she spins her head toward me and says, "why are you here?"

My eyes probably bugged out a bit at being put on the spot amidst twelve strangers, but I answered, "I'm looking for clarity, it's been a confusing twelve months."

She rolls up to me (she had a stool with wheels), stares at me and starts pulling at her shirt. One hand yanked at her shoulder while the other yanked at her mid-section, and she says, "You are chaos, you are being ripped apart by everyone in your life, you are bouncing from here to there like a person caught in a tornado, why is this happening to you? This is how I see your energy--chaos."

By now I've swallowed the chocolate and am sitting at attention. The rest of the room fades into the background as I stare at this petite older woman who is suddenly pulling at herself as if trying to get free of a net.

And I wanted to cry.

She was right.

She goes on to say, "What is that you want? Why don't you know? You need to get still. You need to be courageous. You need to become the eye of the storm. You need stillness. You have too much responsibility on your shoulders, what can you let go of? You need to let go to find the clarity you seek."

All of those books I'd been reading, all of the practice I've done, all of the years of study where I'd truly believed I'd made progress and had gotten in touch with my soul went out the window. I become agitated. I said, "I can't let go."

I'm a single mom, a solo-preneur, with two kids in college and a mortgage! What exactly am I supposed to let go of exactly? Responsibilities are responsibilities, right?

She looked at me with piercing, knowing eyes and said, "You can but you need to be courageous."

What the hell are we talking about? I'm thinking. How am I not courageous? I'm a fucking warrior!

But maybe I'm not? Maybe I've been telling myself a story of how I am and what is and what is not?

What truth lies between the lines of my story that I haven't acknowledged?

She then wheeled over to another woman and I--as quietly as possible--unwrapped another Hershey's Kiss and plopped it in my mouth. My hand was shaking. I'd said I wanted clarity but was actually more confused. I'd gone there feeling peaceful and happy, excited to try something new. I'd thought I presented a laid back vibe--certainly not one of CHAOS.

Out of the blue she starts speaking in the 'light language' of the angels and (in translation) talking of peace and our stories and of love and connection. Soon the ninety minutes are over and I'm one of the last to leave. She grabs my arms before I can hug her goodbye, looks me in the eye, and says, "you need to get quiet and ask yourself what it is you really want---not what you tell people you want, or what you've told yourself you want, or what you think others want to hear, but what you really want, until then there will be chaos."

Well, fuck. That's not what I wanted to hear!

And then she slipped me her business card as if to silently say, "you really need a lot of work, lady." (she gave no one else a business card...I know, I'd been observing as I prepared to leave.)

Maybe I don't know myself as well as I thought. Perhaps I do give off an energy I'm not aware of even when I'm feeling peaceful and open-minded. Maybe this is why people react the way they do to me sometimes that leaves me confused.

Maybe she told me exactly what I needed to hear--the truth between the lines of the story I have created for myself.

Do you know what YOU really want your life to look like? Not the story you tell others, but the secret daydreams of your soul. Are you brave enough to look inside, to get quiet, and to embrace your truth?

I think I am--I thought I was--I guess I need to get clear on what dwells in the silence. Perhaps there is more exploration to do.

And, no, I'm not going to her for a personal reading. I tucked her card away and will think on what she says, but the whole 'light language' chatter threw me off a bit. I cannot deny, however, that she shook me up! And, sometimes, we all need to be shaken a bit out of our comfort zone.

Amber Lea Easton is a multi-published author of romantic thrillers, contemporary romance, women's fiction, and nonfiction. She also writes five different blogs, works as a professional editor and author coach, creates a line of inspirational journals, volunteers for children's literacy, and advocates for suicide awareness. In addition, she is the mother of two extraordinary human beings who lives in a small cabin high in the Rocky Mountains where she is completely aware of how lucky she is. To find out more about her books, please visit

Friday, January 6, 2017

Knowing When It's Time to Move On #selfcare #inspiration

I've been widowed eleven years. I've grown accustomed to my own company and the freedom of not being accountable to anyone. I really like being solo, actually. For New Year's Eve, I was in heaven sitting in front of the fireplace, reading a good book, drinking wine, and listening to music alone. I'm not "just saying that" either--I genuinely mean it.

To some, however, they look upon me with pity. When I told one friend I was alone on New Year's Eve, she practically called the suicide intervention hotline thinking I was crying into my pillow. I wasn't. I was very content.

When I met a bunch of friends--all married and pretty well off--earlier this week and told them I am selling my house, moving to Santa Fe to start a new life, buying a house there that is much smaller but within walking distance to all the fun shopping and bars in the city, you would have thought I had just confessed to murder. The looks on their faces confused me.

How can you leave Colorado? You have the perfect house! In the perfect place! How can you give all of that up? Have you gone insane? 

Maybe I have. Maybe I went insane the moment I cut my husband down from where he'd hung himself in the bedroom I've continued to sleep in for the past eleven years. Maybe I went over the edge by seeing the same people who knew me as a married woman who continue to give me that look of pity whenever I make eye contact. Maybe I go a little bit mad every time I go anywhere in this city and state where I dated and married a man who died--I see him everywhere. Maybe I went crazy holding myself back from moving long ago out of a sense of obligation to the kids to keep their lives stable--they're adults now, though. Maybe I snapped after lugging wood indoors to heat the place for the millionth time--why did I ever think that was a charming activity? So, yes, maybe I have gone insane. So what? Can you blame me? Maybe a little insanity is a good thing.

A person can only deny their souls for so long before life intervenes and pushes them into action. That's what's happened here. I am no longer satisfied existing in this perfect little house with its magnificent view. I crave more. 

More adventure.

More laughter.

More discovery.

More life!

Before I got married, some called me a gypsy. I traveled the world, lived in a new apartment every six months, moved to new cities that called to my soul, and never once thought this would be the last stop on my journey.

Yet the judgment comes from all sides when I say I'm selling my house--alone--and moving to another city in another state--alone. None of the people doing the questioning can relate even remotely to my life--they're married, financially secure to the point where some of them only work as a hobby, and have close family members as well who interact with their lives. That's fine. No one needs to get me--but I do ask that they back off from the interrogation.

I can honestly say I resent the questions as to why. Perhaps it's because I have been solo for so long now that I don't like answering to anyone, but I think my annoyance is based on something deeper--my sense that they are doubting my rational thinking despite all the years I've called my own shots, parented solo, and built a career from nothing.

It's easy to say that I don't care what others think and that I don't need anyone's approval--which are both true statements--but at the core of my being I crave support from the people in my life. I crave someone saying, "good for you, enjoy the adventure!" I crave someone saying, "if anyone can do it, you can" or "you've been through enough, sacrificed enough, now go live your life on your own terms."

I tell myself these things. I root myself on because that's what I've learned to do. But, perhaps, I truly crave hearing those things from someone else whether I want to admit it or not.

Because no matter how good I get at being alone, I remember what it was like having a life partner, a permanent cheerleader, and a sounding board--and that ghost of a memory reminds me of what I miss. It reminds me of the kind of relationship I deserve--the kind that pushes me forward rather than holds me back.

Change is good. If we become stagnant, we become boring. I may be a lot of things, but I've never been boring.

Will it be sad leaving this place? On some levels, yes, but I'm very excited to go someplace new and start exploring and discovering and laughing and living! It really is okay to let go of the good and leap into the unknown. Who knows? It might be better than my wildest imagination can visualize--and my imagination is pretty spectacular.

Amber Lea Easton is a multi-published author of romantic thrillers, contemporary romance, women's fiction, and nonfiction. She also writes five different blogs, works as a professional editor and author coach, creates a line of inspirational journals, volunteers for children's literacy, and advocates for suicide awareness. In addition, she is the mother of two extraordinary human beings who lives in a cabin high in the Rocky Mountains where she is completely aware of how lucky she is. To find out more about her books, please visit