Thursday, October 20, 2016

Queen of Reality TV Meets the King of Porn #Romance #NewRelease

Are you ready for this? Featuring the new release by Normandie Alleman--Machine. This is a definite must read! Check out the blurb and excerpt below. 

From the back cover...

The Queen of Reality TV meets the King of Porn.
She’s trying to clean up her act.
He’s a purveyor of filth.
It will never work.
But don’t tell them that.
Dynassy Barnes isn’t known for her big heart.
She is, however, known for her heart-shaped ass and the selfies she shares with her army of social media followers. So when she meets a handsome former SEAL, she thinks she may have scored a love connection and a way to redeem her reputation with fans.
Bridger Thompson is a man of many secrets.
When an explosion in Iraq damaged his ability to satisfy his then-fiance, he never dreamed the machine he built to carry out his husbandly duties would turn into a business featuring women pleasuring themselves with it on camera. A business that could never be associated with The Barnes’ Family, the darlings of reality TV.
But Dynassy stirs a desire Bridger hasn’t felt in years, and he’s dead set on laying claim to the famous beauty—even though he fears he won’t be able to love her the way she deserves.
For that, he’d need to become a MACHINE.


“So, I’m not a stranger?” Bridger teased.
When he held me in his arms like that, the last thing he felt like was a stranger.
“No,” I managed shyly. I couldn’t believe how comfortable I was around him. He and I came from different worlds, but his embrace seemed like the safest place in the world. I suspected those big strong arms that just pulled me around the dance floor could protect me better than any man I’d ever met.
“Want to dance some more?” he asked.
“Yes.” I nodded enthusiastically.

We whirled across the floor, his hand on the small of my back guiding me, the muscles on the back of his neck pulsing under my fingertips. He smelled better than I would have dreamed—a combination of sandalwood and leather that spurred a sense of longing that made me imagine kissing his earlobe.
But before I could summon the courage to do it, the band stopped playing, and Bridger grabbed my hand. “Ready?”
I was ready for anything he wanted, so I said, “Sure.”
He walked me out to the parking lot and stood by an old gray pickup truck. That didn’t surprise me, but when he opened the passenger door to the eggplant-colored Dodge Viper next to it, I was caught off guard.
“I thought—” I started, but then tried to stop myself before I said something stupid, or worse, insulting.
He chuckled. “That the pickup was mine?”
I smiled, but didn’t answer.
“I get it.” Then he mumbled something about an inheritance and got behind the wheel.
So, the mechanic, who’d been wounded in combat and was a SEAL no less, was also an heir of some sort. The better I got to know Bridger, the more I realized he was much more complicated than I’d originally thought. There was a lot more to him than that deliciously curly brown hair and those piercing green eyes.

 Don't delay! Get your copy today!

Saturday, September 3, 2016

Love on the Run Under Florida Keys' Sun #RomanticSuspense #LaborDay Hop

Excerpt of the romantic suspense novel, Kiss Me Slowly...

“Let me go, Grace,” he whispered as more sirens sounded outside. By now he was certain they had found traces of blood in the sand, found her slippers, were searching for them. “No one will ever know about your involvement. I swear. I won’t expect you or Jerry to come forward with what you’ve found. Just get out of town. Forget about me, about this. Go.”

The lights reflected in her eyes. “The evidence…you’ll be arrested.”

“Probably.” He tried to smile but the effort simply was too much. “Let me go. I am sorry…for everything. Past and present. Forget you ever saw me again, Crazy Gracie. Protect yourself.”

“Stop being stupid.” Her hold on his arm tightened. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Running from the police makes us look like we have something to hide.”

“We do have something to hide,” she muttered, her gaze drifted over his shoulder toward the front windows. “We’re in this together now, Jon Ryan. Decision has been made.”

He pulled at the stickiness of his shirt and grimaced at the blood that had trickled to his fist. He noticed then that he had dripped blood on her floor, bloody fingerprints on her alarm box. “Damn it, Grace. I’m bleeding all over the place. I’ve probably left a blood trail a mile wide that leads directly to your front door.”

“Upstairs.” Her fingers curled through his and pulled him toward her apartment. “Sit.” She shoved him down on the edge of her bed. Sitting beside him, she ran trembling fingers across his shoulder. “Does it hurt?”

“I don’t know, maybe, yes,” he said with complete honesty. Shock pumped adrenaline through his veins.

Frowning, she grabbed her cell phone and ran to the kitchen. He heard her talking first to Simon and then to Jerry before returning with a glass of water that she shoved into his hand. “Drink this, stay hydrated.”

“I’d prefer whiskey.” He drank the water, but couldn’t take his gaze from the blood that stained her. His blood. “Dead or jail by Monday. I knew it.”

“You’re not dying.” She tugged his T-shirt over his head. Her eyes snapped with an inner fire that hypnotized him. “If you’re going to be teamed up with me, I need you to fake some optimism.”

Regret washed over him for the things he had never said, for not following through with their plans, for not being the man she had expected him to be, for years of wasting time with if-onlys. Bad timing for regret.

“Bloody mess,” she whispered.

He glanced at the blood dripping down his chest and used his fingers to find the bullet wound that had taken a good chunk out of the top of his left shoulder. He finished the water and carefully set the glass aside while avoiding looking at her face.

Her hands were on him, too, examining his shoulder. When she leaned across him, her breasts brushed against his face. Perfectly round and tan, barely concealed by the plunging green fabric.

God, what he wouldn’t give for a taste. God, what he would give for an ounce of his sanity to return. No time for this kind of thinking. No time.

“Just a graze. You’ll live,” she said. “I have bandages. Simon will be here soon.” She moved like a flash of lightning between the bed and the bathroom. She returned with hands juggling a washcloth and a first-aid kit.

“This will have to do until Simon arrives.” Pressing between his legs, she smoothed the washcloth over his shoulder, chest, arm and back with a tenderness that broke his heart. “You saved my life. You took a bullet that was meant for me. You said it yourself. I was the target.”

“I’m no one’s hero, Grace,” he whispered. “You know that better than anyone, don’t you?”

“You’re not exactly the scrawny teenager I remember, sailor boy.” Her fingers traced down his bare chest, face alive with curiosity. “I keep trying to hate you but end up…not.”

“You have blood on your dress.” He fingered the strap in question that had slipped off her shoulder. “You should probably take it off.”

“Careful. We can’t go there.” Sand clung to her neck and stuck to the tangles in her hair. The light from the bedside lamp shadowed her face.

“I meant change out of it, not…well, maybe I meant take it off. But then we’d be crossing lines that you don’t want to cross.” He let his fingers trail down her arm. “That would be wrong. Terribly wrong.”

“You are nothing but trouble.”

“You always liked trouble.” He rested his right palm against the bed, supporting his weight on his healthy arm.

“Listen carefully to me.” She pressed her finger against his lips. “I’m high on adrenaline, we’re alone, no witnesses, no regrets. One kiss won’t hurt anyone.”

“No witnesses, no regrets…” Heat flooded his veins. “Adrenaline…”

“If I don’t do this now, I’ll hate myself in the morning.”

“You mean you’ll regret it when they lock me up in the morning and throw away the key because you didn’t kiss me one last time?”

“Exactly.” She straddled his lap.

“You weren’t supposed to agree.” He smiled despite the circumstances.

“Shut up, sailor boy. Kiss me.”

She kissed him as if savoring the taste. Her hair fell forward, locking them in a caramel-colored veil of intimacy. Eyes open, they stared at each other as their lips moved against each other’s.

His hands slid up her long thighs, over her panties and pressed against the smoothness of her back. Every stroke of her lips against his awakened pure need in his veins. He no longer cared about what was right or wrong. All he wanted was her mouth on his, his hands on her body and her skin against his.

With a quick yank, she pulled her dress over her head. Breasts bared, she pressed him down on the bed and laughed against his mouth. “This is crossing all kinds of boundaries and breaking every rule I can think of.”

“Just like the old days.” He smiled against her lips. His hands moved over her bared breasts. The pain in his shoulder failed to slow him down. He didn’t know who groaned or if they both did, but the sensation of her flesh filling his palms trumped common sense.

Her bare foot slid over his leg, hands curled into his hair, and body flattened against his. All the anger, the terror and confusion poured from him as he deepened the kiss with an urgency that bordered on desperation. The silky warmth of her mouth erased his pain. Kissing her felt like coming home from an exhausting, lonely journey.

“A kiss…that’s all I wanted,” she muttered against his chin. A shiver quaked through her body when she sighed.

“I want more.”

“Impossible. We can’t.”

“We can do whatever the hell we want, Grace.” Despite the burning pain in his left shoulder, he maneuvered so that his body covered hers. He wanted more than a kiss. He wanted more heat.

“Jonathan…” Caution drummed beneath her tone but her eyes snapped with desire. “We can’t. Too dangerous. We can’t get distracted. Things are complicated enough.”

He dropped his forehead against hers and cursed timing. Her breasts flattened against his bare chest. Skin on skin. Blood on her flesh. Pain in his shoulder.

“I know you’re right, but…I can’t help but want more than a kiss.”

“It’s adrenaline talking. Shock.” She fisted her hands in his hair and held him close. “That’s it. Nothing more.”

“Adrenaline, huh? That’s your theory?” His lips moved over her neck. He felt her squirm, felt her legs part, felt her hips arching toward his. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Her hands moved over his back before fisting in his hair and pulling his face away from her skin. “Jonathan…please…stop.”

He curved his hand over the side of her face. Separated by a mere inch and a few pieces of clothing, he wanted more than anything to be inside of her. This close, alone, in the dark, he couldn’t help but remember what it had been like for them as two fumbling teenagers who had felt like immortals.

“And it has nothing to do with the mess you’re in,” she continued as his thumb caressed her cheekbone. “Our story ended over a decade ago. You wrote the ending, remember?”

He remembered.

He kissed her swollen lips as slowly as she had first kissed him. Tenderly. Eyes wide open. He knew she was right. A wall existed around her heart that he knew he couldn’t break through, not with the limited time they had left, yet he couldn't resist tasting her again because it could be the last time he had a chance. 

The blurb...

Trapped in a set-up that could have him in jail or dead by Monday, Jonathan Alexander trusts no one in his inner circle. It’s Saturday. His only hope is Grace Dupont, the best forensic accountant in Miami. But there’s a glitch with that idea. She’s also his ex-girlfriend who'd rather watch him drown than throw him a life vest. Going to her feels desperate…because he is.

Grace enjoys seeing Jonathan squirm. On your knees boy, she thinks as he pitches for her help. Always a sucker for the dark-haired-blue-eyed boys, she risks her precariously balanced life of secrets to help him. Helping him slaps a target on her back–she’s the key to proving his innocence and that’s a bad, bad thing.

Tangled up in a whirlwind of conspiracy, murder, million dollar money trails and diamond smuggling, Jonathan and Grace flee to the sea to stall for time to prove his innocence. Romance sizzles beneath Florida Keys’ sunshine. Both scoff at happy endings. Both doubt justice. Both know each kiss could be their last.

Buy it now and be swept away to the Florida Keys for an action-packed, passion soaked read!

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Redemption Multipled by Three #NewRelease #EroticRomance

Spotlight feature--a new box set to ignite your inner fire via the always sizzling Pandora Spocks!


Rannigan’s Redemption is the story of the complicated relationship between sexy high-profile Manhattan attorney Michael Rannigan and sassy red-haired fellow lawyer Maggie Flynn. 
Michael and Maggie meet at a job fair, where he hires her practically on the spot.  She’s smart and good her job.  But there’s more to it than he’s willing to admit.  He’s attracted to her.  Which doesn’t make sense.  She’s nothing like the women he dates.  She’s way too smart, for one thing. 
And Maggie’s in love with him, too.  Realizing the situation is all but hopeless, she contents herself with working with him.
One night tears them apart.  And from that point they’re both just running rogue, each making questionable decisions in their professional and personal lives. 
A moment of desperation brings them back together.  After Michael has burned all his bridges, Maggie’s the only one willing to stand by him.
And he’s grateful.  He knows he needs to make it up to her, to somehow find redemption for himself. 
Although Rannigan’s Redemption was intended to be one book, this story was too long and covers nearly ten years of Michael’s and Maggie’s lives, so it was originally released as three separate novels. 
This boxed set includes all three Rannigan’s Redemption novels: Resisting Risk, Running Rogue, and Ransoming Redemption. 


Maggie strode purposefully across the lobby of Michael’s building.  It had been a shit week and knowing that she had to work all weekend to make up for what she’d missed, all she wanted to do was to check in on Michael, deliver his soup, and head home to a nice hot bath and a large glass of wine.  Ahead of her a man was just stepping into the elevator and she increased her pace, hoping to make it before the doors closed.  He turned and their eyes met just as the doors slid shut.
            “Well, shit!” she muttered, juggling her purse, her brief case, and the bag from the deli.  Just then the doors slid back open.
            “Sorry about that,” the man said, “I didn’t realize you were right behind me.”  He held open the door as she stepped in and turned around.  “What floor?”
            Maggie glanced up at him.  He was tall with broad shoulders, muscular without being muscle-bound, with wavy brown hair and sparkling blue eyes framed by the longest lashes she’d ever seen on a man.  She’d noticed a bit of a drawl when he spoke.  Dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, he’d apparently been working out in the gym.  He stood beaming at her with a boyish grin on his face and he seemed to be waiting for her.  She realized she was staring. 
            Oh, shit!  What floor?  “Oh, sorry, um, twenty-one, please.”
            He grinned again.  “Twenty-one.  That’s my floor, too.”  He held out a hand.  “I’ve only been here a couple of months.  We haven’t met yet.  I’m Bobby.”
            Maggie shifted the deli bag and grasped his hand.  “Um, I’m Maggie.  I don’t actually live here.  I’m visiting a friend.”  She paused.  “Do you know Michael in 2101?”
            Bobby’s eyes widened and he took a step back.  “Oh.  You’re one of Michael’s girls.”
            Maggie frowned.  “No.  I am absolutely not one of Michael’s girls.  Nope.  Not me.  No way.”  She shook her head emphatically.
            Bobby grinned wryly.  “So you’re not one of Michael’s girls.”
            She felt her face flush.  “I’ve known Michael for a long time.  We used to work together.  He’s a little…under the weather, and I told him I’d stop by, bring him some soup.”  She held up the deli bag for emphasis. 
            He flashed the boyish grin, blue eyes sparkling with amusement.  Maggie felt her pulse race and a warm flush crept up her neck.  What the hell?
            “So you’re a lawyer.”
            She nodded.  “Yep.  Sorry.”
            “Why sorry?”
            “Everybody hates lawyers,” she replied as the elevator doors opened on the twenty-first floor.  She stepped out into the hallway and immediately went down hard on her left knee. 
            “Motherfucker!” she cried out.
            Bobby was beside her instantly.  “Are you alright?  What happened?”
            Maggie looked around.  “My shoe.”  The heel of her right shoe was caught in the space between the elevator and the hallway.  It had snapped off as she stepped forward.  Bobby grabbed it before the doors closed, then gently took her arm and helped her up.
            “Did you hurt yourself?” he asked, concerned.
            “I’m alright, really,” she replied shakily.  Blood was dripping from her knee and running in rivulets all the way down her shin.
            “You banged up your knee.”
            “But I saved the soup, so there’s that,” she quipped.
            He placed a hand on the small of her back and walked her down the hall, stopping at a door.  “This is me,” he said.  “Come in and let me at least bandage you up.”  Maggie regarded him warily. 
            “I’m not an axe murderer, I promise,” he laughed.
            She frowned.  “Isn’t that exactly what an axe murderer would say?” she said as he unlocked the door.
            “Tell you what–we’ll leave the door open.  You can sit right here.”  He pointed to a bench in the foyer.  “If I make any sudden moves you can run for it,” he chuckled.
            Sheepishly, Maggie sank onto the bench.  Truthfully, her knee hurt.  She set down her things and glanced up at him.  “Thanks,” she said quietly.
            Bobby smiled and gestured to his right.  “I’ll just…go get my axe.”
            She could hear him in another room rummaging around through something.  She removed her broken shoe and held up the dismembered heel.  It had come clean off the sole.  An image flashed through her mind of the shoe repair shop just around the corner from her apartment. 
            “I can fix that for you.”  Startled, she looked up.  Bobby had returned with first aid supplies.
            “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she said quickly.  “There’s a shop near my place.”
            He poured alcohol on some gauze and knelt beside her.  “It won’t take me two seconds,” he murmured, dabbing at her knee.
            Maggie breathed in sharply.  “Ouch!  Ow ow ow!” she protested softly.
            Bobby looked up at her.  “Sorry, cher,” he said, “we’ve got to get it cleaned out.”  Gently he grasped the back of her calf and raised her leg, wiping away the streaks of blood. 
            Maggie stared at him, scarcely breathing.  There was something electric about his touch, so strong yet so tender.
            He finished cleaning her shin and returned to her knee, carefully placing a large bandage over the scrape.  “There you are, good as new.  Well, almost,” he smiled. 
            He took the shoe and heel from her.  “I really can fix this for you.  I’d just have to find my tools,” he nodded his head toward the other room.  “I should really unpack anyway,” he smiled ruefully.
            Maggie rose from the bench and stood lopsided on one heel.  “I don’t want to be more trouble than I’ve already been.”
            Something tells me that you’re all kinds of trouble, cher.  “It’s no trouble.  Besides, I’d be worried about you limping along like Quasimodo on your way home,” he laughed.
            She laughed, too.  “Well, alright then.  Thank you.  And thanks for…”  She glanced down at her knee.
            “It’s my pleasure, cher,” he said quietly.
            Maggie felt as though suddenly all the air had gone out of the room.  She stared up into his amazing blue eyes.  She opened her mouth but no words came out. 
            He spoke.  “Just stop by when you’re finished at Michael’s.  If I have to leave before that, I’ll bring you your shoe.”
Get it now!