Saturday, December 21, 2013

Holiday Hookup Mistakes

Don't fall victim to making a holiday hookup mistake, no matter how lonely you are... All of the holiday parties, family gatherings and too much booze can lead you straight into doing something that could leave your cheeks as red as Santa's from embarrassment.

1. Don't call your ex for a booty call. This is bad on so many levels.

2. Don't sneak off to the copy room with the hunky co-worker  who you've been crushing, no matter how willing he may seem. This could get very sticky come bright and early Monday morning when the sun shines reality and the alcohol is no longer in your blood.

3. Never, ever sleep with the boss, unless...A. He's your husband. B. He has resigned and will no longer be your boss come morning. C. There has been a zombie apocalypse and he's the only man available.

4. Friends With Benefits can work--as long as it's not during holiday time. Everyone, even the bestie, looks sweeter through a blur of loneliness. Cry on his shoulder, yes, and with clothes on.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

What would you do...?!?

Have you ever asked yourself how far you'd go just to get something that you really want?

What would you do for $15.00?

1. Run naked down a city street?
2. Get a full-body wax?
3. Lick a strangers toes?
4. Eat a can of live worms?
5. Stand up in a crowded restaurant and sing Miley Cyrus's song "Wrecking Ball?"
6. Kiss your boss for a full minute?


So, what would you do?

I'd love to hear from you.

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Freaky Toys

Shopping online can be a bit risky. Have you ever come across something you're not quite sure what it is?

Here are my questionable finds...Can you guess what they are? I bet some of these will leave you scratching your head (no joke intended).

1. 




2Fetish Fantasy swing stand - Swing by Pipedream

3. The Sqweel 2 - An Amazing New Sex Toy for Her

4. 
5
6. 
7. 
8. 
9. 
10. 


Do you know what all of them all? Leave your answers in the comment section.

Friday, November 29, 2013

Cowboy...Cowboy...Cowboy

Click your heels three times while saying "Cowboy. Cowboy.Cowboy." Did you land in Wizard of Cowboys? No? Hmm...Too bad.

I can help!!!

Click this button and grab yourself a cowboy...https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/380344
Second Chance Cowboy (Book 1 of Second Chance Series) available 12/02/2013. Stop over and take a sneak peek.
Book 1
Book 2


I love writing men who get their hands dirty, and Chance Taylor definitely is dirty, in many ways. What's not to love about a cowboy? From hat pulled low over his gaze, to steely jaw, along ripples of toned flesh, past lean hips, long legs to the tips of worn boots. I'm not sure about you, but when I see a sexy cowboy riding a horse I wonder if he has skills in other areas of riding? Come on...you know you do too. 

Chance still loves his ex-wife, but she hates him (passionately). So what should he do when she stumbles down a flight of stairs, hits her head and believes she's still Mrs. Chance Taylor? Should he tell her the truth and break her heart? Or, should he stay quiet and take this opportunity as a second chance? A cowboy has never been put in more of a risky situation. 

Excerpt: Second Chance Cowboy
A warning shot off like the crack of a gun inside her head. Chance equaled uncontrollable, raw desire. She fought the reckless screaming inside her mind that urged her to pluck what was there for the taking. She searched her emotions for the downsides to Chance’s love.
His masculinity was her weakness. She wanted to fall into his arms and allow his powerful energy to consume. Being with Chance came with a price and she wasn’t willing to pay. He wanted her to move on, to forget their painful past, but Carly owned her heartache. She desperately wanted to hold on to it. It was much easier to harbor guilt than face the truth.
“Look, Chance,” she started and stopped. She scrambled for the right words. “We made—no, I made a mistake in calling you last night. If I hadn’t called you then this—” She glanced at his irresistible form again. Bad idea. “This wouldn’t have happened.”
Chance smoothed his hand over his disheveled hair. He showed no sign that her words reached or moved him. His attention dropped to the sheet clasped to her body and her mouth went dry. A tingly sensation swirled her nipples. She didn’t need a mirror to know they peaked like pearls.
His tongue slipped out and moistened his bottom lip as his sugary gaze glided over her in a visual caress. He held his jade stare at the apex of her thighs and she resisted the urge to squirm. His look of confidence and command triggered naughty thoughts inside her.
The phone on the bedside table rang and Carly jerked. The shrill ring was a cold dousing to her desire. She knew she should answer it. Her mind commanded her to, but her feet wouldn’t move. She stood statue-still, her breathing loud in her ears.
The sound stopped. She told herself it was the time for closure; destroy any remaining connection between them.
“I drank a little wine, maybe more than I needed, and I felt a bit lonely. I only meant to call you and....” She raked her fingers through her tangled hair. “I don’t know why I needed to talk to you.” She sighed. Where was the self-confident Carly? “I allowed you to come over but it wasn’t an invitation into my bed.”
Chance propped a shoulder against the sleek black headboard and pinned her with his intense gaze. Carly squirmed under his penetrating stare. Butterfly wings tickled the inside of her stomach.
“Don’t freak out, Carly. We’re married. Married people have sex.”
Her gut clenched. His calm words and the casual disposition of his body trickled enjoyment. He seemed so nonchalant about the situation, and it made her furious. It always did. This was his mode of operation. He was calm, cool, collected, even in a position where some level of anxiety was courteous.

“Not two people separated for two years. And especially not when divorce papers were filed. You signed the papers, remember? The divorce is final this morning.”

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Sex Facts You Won't Find in a Romance Novel

Thank goodness romance novels keep our fantasy alive--sex has no faults and it's always hot and steamy. However, in reality, things can be a bit different. Isn't it a wonder we like to read romance?

1. Cardio Work Out-- The better in shape you are, the better sex is. It's just a plain and simple fact. It takes a lot of work to pump and thrust. 

2. You are what you eat-- Yes, I've said it. I've heard the secret ingredient to "better flavor" is fruit, especially blueberries. 

3. Spillage-- Unless you use a condom, there will be leakage. Sneak into the bathroom and do five jumping jacks. Problem solved!

4. Not everyone wants to cuddle-- How can that be possible. Sex sparks the "feel good" hormones so doesn't that mean we all want to go at it like rabbits then cuddle afterward? Uh...no...In fact, don't be surprised if your partner rolls over and snores before you can spell D-O-N-E.

So, feel up to a fantasy? Thought so... Here are Book 1 and Book 2 of Second Chance Series

Sneak Peek-- https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/380344

Excerpt from Second Chance Cowboy...re-releasing December 2, 2013

A warning shot off like the crack of a gun inside her head. Chance equaled uncontrollable, raw desire. She fought the reckless screaming inside her mind that urged her to pluck what was there for the taking. She searched her emotions for the downsides to Chance’s love.
His masculinity was her weakness. She wanted to fall into his arms and allow his powerful energy to consume. Being with Chance came with a price and she wasn’t willing to pay. He wanted her to move on, to forget their painful past, but Carly owned her heartache. She desperately wanted to hold on to it. It was much easier to harbor guilt than face the truth.
“Look, Chance,” she started and stopped. She scrambled for the right words. “We made—no, I made a mistake in calling you last night. If I hadn’t called you then this—” She glanced at his irresistible form again. Bad idea. “This wouldn’t have happened.”
Chance smoothed his hand over his disheveled hair. He showed no sign that her words reached or moved him. His attention dropped to the sheet clasped to her body and her mouth went dry. A tingly sensation swirled her nipples. She didn’t need a mirror to know they peaked like pearls.
His tongue slipped out and moistened his bottom lip as his sugary gaze glided over her in a visual caress. He held his jade stare at the apex of her thighs and she resisted the urge to squirm. His look of confidence and command triggered naughty thoughts inside her.
The phone on the bedside table rang and Carly jerked. The shrill ring was a cold dousing to her desire. She knew she should answer it. Her mind commanded her to, but her feet wouldn’t move. She stood statue-still, her breathing loud in her ears.
The sound stopped. She told herself it was the time for closure; destroy any remaining connection between them.
“I drank a little wine, maybe more than I needed, and I felt a bit lonely. I only meant to call you and....” She raked her fingers through her tangled hair. “I don’t know why I needed to talk to you.” She sighed. Where was the self-confident Carly? “I allowed you to come over but it wasn’t an invitation into my bed.”
Chance propped a shoulder against the sleek black headboard and pinned her with his intense gaze. Carly squirmed under his penetrating stare. Butterfly wings tickled the inside of her stomach.
“Don’t freak out, Carly. We’re married. Married people have sex.”
Her gut clenched. His calm words and the casual disposition of his body trickled enjoyment. He seemed so nonchalant about the situation, and it made her furious. It always did. This was his mode of operation. He was calm, cool, collected, even in a position where some level of anxiety was courteous.
“Not two people separated for two years. And especially not when divorce papers were filed. You signed the papers, remember? The divorce is final this morning.”  

Book 2-- available now at Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Second-Ride-Cowboy-Chance-ebook/dp/B00DLC46AE/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=8-3&qid=1385487377

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Dirty Secrets

I've collected a few of the best questions I've been asked by readers. I hope you'll still respect me by the last question...

1. What is one thing we don't know about you?

I shave my legs every day--no matter what season.

2. Shoes or Purses?

Oh nooooo...I love both. I can't choose!!!!

3. Do I enjoy taking selfies?

Of course, who doesn't?

4. What's your fool-proof sexy pose?

Head up, big smile.

5. What is the most romantic thing your man has ever done for you?

I found this out later...He and a buddy were texting and my DH divulged how much he loves me and that I am his, "better half." We know it's true when they share it with a friend.

6. Your greatest fear is...?

The monsters that live under the bed.

7. What movie are you addicted to?

Pride and Prejudice

8. What goodies are hidden in your closet?

Toys, thigh high leather boots and grandma panties (every girl needs a pair or two).

9. Your secret obsession is...?

Chocolate.

10. Cowboy or military?

Military.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

5 Questions regarding the Hoo-ha

We all have questions that we don't ask anyone because fear of embarrassment silences us. Well, here are a few I know you're curious about...

1. Can my gyno tell when I had sex last? If very recent, then yes.

2. Do all vajay-jays look the same? No.

3. Can sex toys be dangerous? Friction can cause irritation, irritation can cause infections...and so forth. Lube-up and clean the toys thoroughly.

4. Can sugar make my hoo-ha itch? Yes! Back off the soda and sweets.

5. Is there anything to make the G-spot more sensitive? Yes. You can get an injection directly into the G-spot, sort of like the stuff you get to puff up your lips. The bigger question...would you allow someone to come at you with a needle, head down south and then charge you $1800? Nope, didn't think so.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Guest Author--Wendi Zwaduk

I'm excited!!! I have old (as in long time not aged) friend Wendi Zwaduk visiting today. Welcome, Wendi!!!!

Why Witches, Why Now?
I want to thank Rhonda for having me on the blog. Always good to hang out with friends. She asked me if I wanted to be on and told me I could talk about whatever I wanted. Snicker. I can talk one’s earor in this case eyeballsoff, so it’s not a stretch to come up with something. I decided to write about witches.

In my latest novella, I was asked to write about a witch. Mine’s not the spooky green wart encrusted kind of witch. She’s a good witch. Think Glinda, but without all the pink fluff. Havan, my witch, is a love witch. She brings love and happiness to couples who need it. Sort of a cupid, but older and with blue hair. She’s unconventional.  So what happens when a love witch can’t find her perfect match, but she manages to match up all the other people in her life?
candlelitmagic_800 (1).jpgShe lets fate take over.
Havan’s issue isn’t really any different than anyone else’s. She wants to be loved. When writing, many of my characters have this idea of who they want to fall in love with. It never happens that way. Never. They always change their minds or deviate and I have to keep up. Life’s like that, too. You can plan to end up with one person, but if fate decides otherwise...you’re screwed.
Granted, I can play fate in my stories.  I know approximately who will end up together. Still, the journey is the thing. Havan’s journey begins right before Halloween at a wedding. She could intervene and use some magic, but what’s the fun in forcing the adventure?
But back to my original question in the title, why witches and why now? It’s after Halloween, yes. But honestly, witches are fun any time of the year. They are fun whether they are good or bad. Besides, where else can you write a story involving potions, spells and bottles potentially filled with really strong coffee instead of an actual potion? Hee hee.
So what does Havan do? Well, you’ll have to read Candlelit Magic to find out.
Psst – if you liked Cian, Havan’s best friend, she gets her own story. It’s coming out next year. It’s called Firelit Magic.
Here’s a little bit about Candlelit Magic:
Candlelit Magic by Wendi Zwaduk
Part of the Wanton Witches Collection
Total-E-Bound Publishing
Contemporary, Paranormal, M/F, Anal Sex
Novella

Even love witches get the blues.

Havan’s magical potions bring couples together and give them the happily ever after of their dreams. Too bad her spells don’t work for her. In Erie View, the townspeople see nothing more than a witch. All she wants is to find that special man to embrace her quirks and love her. Will she be able to accept the blessings of the Goddesses or lose faith in herself?

Neil doesn’t believe in magic. It’s trickery for television and movies. No one creates a spell for people to fall in love. Hell, he doesn’t even believe in love. After a string of crappy dates and dead-end romances, he’s through with relationships. But a chance meeting at the grocery store changes his mind. Havan’s nothing like he expects—but is the blue haired witch enough to make him give romance another shot?

Available here:





EXCERPT:

“I wanted to thank you in person for the candle. It’s very pretty.” He snapped his lips shut. Damn it. He sounded stupid. “I don’t know what I’ll use it for, but they make the house smell nice.” Shit.
She stared at him, but didn’t say anything.
“I suck at small talk.” And apparently trying to sound smooth in front of beautiful women. “What”—Neil picked up a tiny bottle filled with amber liquid—“exactly do you do here? And what is this?”
“I’m a witch.”
Matter-of-fact, no inflection in her voice. Factual and blunt. What would it take to make her smile? Blush? Call out his name when he pumped into her pussy? Oh shit, he needed to get his thoughts away from sex.
He paused a moment to make sure that he’d heard her right. “A witch?”
“Yes, and I make the potions the people in town rave about. I’m not Madame Scarlett and neither is Cian. I thought everyone in town knew, but hey, you might not have. She’s just the name I picked out when my Aunt Siobhan turned the store over to me. Cian likes red, so her hair is red and she lets everyone think she’s Madame.” Havan folded her hands on the glass display case. “I heard you say you wanted something for your sister. I remember her, vaguely. Her then boyfriend came in looking for a love potion. I gave him one and it seems to have worked.”
“Kasen?” The guy had used a love potion? He knew the general story, but to hear Melissa talk, it was love at first sight. The spell or potion or whatever came a lot later.
“Sounds right.” Havan shrugged. “They got what they wanted.”
Well, what do you know? Neil pointed to the bottle with the amber stuff inside. “This? Is this what they used?” He needed to keep her talking.
“Yes.” She wore two rings per hand, each ring set with a huge stone—one in red and one in black. “This one will get you a date and this one will get you forever.” She tapped the top of a black bottle. “Cian claims we have potions for revenge and greed, but they don’t work.”
“Why not?” He picked up one of the black bottles. “If I cast a spell for a negative reason, then that negativity will come back to me threefold. It sucks.” She tucked a lock of darker blue hair behind her ear. A selection of hoop earrings dangled from her ear, starting at the top and following down to her earlobe. “I learnt my lesson a long time ago. Don’t cast what you can’t handle.” For the first time since he’d seen her, she smiled and laughed. “You will totally regret it.”
“I hear you.” Neil gripped the bottle. The more she talked, the more he wanted to listen to her. His cock pushed against his pants and he mashed the bulge into the front of the display case to ease his ache. “My sister already fell in love, so she doesn’t need this. Think it’ll help me?”
Havan sighed. “It will, but you have to accept whoever is chosen. What you want might not be what you get, but she will be the one your heart truly desires.”
Her words stopped him cold. She wasn’t a thing like he expected and she sure as shit wasn’t his type and yet he couldn’t help but want to see her. “I’ll take it and whatever it was your friend went upstairs to find.”
“Oh. Okay.” Havan wrote up the bill on a receipt pad. “Give her a moment.”
“I will.” Neil clutched the bottle tighter. A witch. No wonder the people around town talked ill of Madame Scarlett’s. No one knew what the hell they were dealing with. But Havan didn’t strike him as a witch. No green skin or huge warts. Maybe he’d been watching too much television. The bracelets on her wrist jangled as she wrote.
“I know my sister was being forward, but I’ve got a question.” He wanted to see her again. Had to. “Would you accompany me to my sister’s wedding?”
“What?” Her eyes widened again, displaying the ring of dark blue surrounding her pupils. The lighter blue flecks sparkled. Would she look at him that way during sex? He hoped so. Hoped she’d give him a chance, too.
“Well, you brought them together.” Stupid, stupid. He took one of the business cards and flipped it over, then wrote his phone number and the date of the wedding. “My name is Neil and I know this is a shitty way to ask you out, but I really am drawn to you.” He slid the card to her. “No strings, but if you’d like to go with me, I’d love to see you.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Here’s a little bit about me:
I’ve always dreamt of writing the stories in my head. Tall, dark, and handsome heroes are my favorites, as long as he has an independent woman keeping him in line.  I love playing with words and letting the characters run wild.
NASCAR, Ohio farmland, dirt racing, animals and second chance romance  all feature prominently in my books.  I also write under the pen name of Megan Slayer. I’m published with Total-E-Bound, Resplendence Publishing, Changeling Press, Liquid Silver Books, Turquoise Morning Press, Decadent Publishing and The Wild Rose Press. Come join me for this fantastic journey!  
If you like my work, tell your friends and email me. I love hearing from readers!
Blog:  http://www.wendizwaduk.net/
Wordpress blog: http://wendizwaduk.wordpress.com/
Newsletter sign up:  http://ymlp.com/xgjmjumygmgj 



Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Welcome guest author--Christi Williams




CW Perilous Promise3.jpg
Perilous Promises is the second sensual contemporary romance in the Hawk Point Romances series by Christi Williams. Perilous Promises was published August 1, 2013 by Whiskey Creek Press/Torrid Books. The series began with Take a Chance on Love, published April 15, 2013 by WCP.

Perilous Promises blurb:
Her ex-husband wants to save her. Her brother wants to save her. Her co-workers want to save her. She can survive anything except the men who love her.          
Perris Dalton doesn’t need a man. She left southwest Wyoming broken, so transformed by fighting cancer even her big hunk of a lawman couldn’t make love to her. Now she’s back.
Her new job is to mitigate conflicts with raptors at a power plant’s coal mine. There’s no reason for her path to cross her ex-husband’s. But when an environmental demonstration inexplicably centers in on her, Sheriff Noah Dalton steps in, confident he can win back the woman who once walked out on him.
As the demonstration spirals into personal attacks, Noah, Perris’s father the sheep rancher, and her brother the college student hatch a secret plot to protect her.
In an epic contest of wills with a lone woman survivor used to solving her own problems, and three Western heroes just as determined to save her, all hell starts to break loose.

Perilous Promises excerpt:
Perris Dalton climbed the flight of steps to the third floor of the county courthouse, the sound of the heels on her stylish new leather boots echoing in the empty stairwell. She didn’t know why she’d felt compelled to go out and buy all new clothing for today’s appearance before the judge, but she had: cropped, close-fitting cowhide jacket, black wool pants, and perky plum boots.
Head to toe, she knew she looked good. She’d had her short black hair styled the day before. The untameable curls, which grew in place of the long, straight locks that had fallen out in clumps, had now been straightened and framed her face in delicate wisps. She had taken extra care with her makeup, but she thought the effect was worth it. The hot little number reflected in the mirror certainly didn’t resemble the pallid, sickly creature Noah had pitied so much.
That woman, that poor, overwhelmed woman bowed by sickness and surgery and chemo, had vanished. In her place stood the new Perris Dalton. The Perris who’d taken control of her destiny, wrenched it forcefully away from the doctors and Noah, and decided once and for all to flee the man who threatened to smother her with sorrow.
If no one else understood her sudden decision to divorce him, not her family, friends, or even her lawyer, she knew Noah did. As her foot descended to the final riser and she saw him standing there in the hallway with his lawyer, she knew that he had at last accepted that she was leaving him. From the defeated slump of his broad shoulders to the muted glint of dim lighting off his blond hair as he lowered his head to peer glumly at some legal document his attorney held out for his inspection, Perris read acceptance of her decision in every line of Noah’s tall, powerful body.
As she studied the man she was still married to for the next little while, the man she loved with every fiber of her being and yet couldn’t bear to live with any longer, she began to shake. The quaking got so bad, she shot a hand out to grasp the railing to keep herself from toppling backwards down the stairs.
She had thought determination alone would see her through. She hadn’t realized it would be so hard to finally go through with it.

Perilous Promises buy links:
Kindle

Take a Chance on Love buy links:

Kindle

Nook


Christi Williams bio and links:
My fiction is contemporary, so the settings and the characters are completely modern and struggle with today’s issues. But the men and women in my writing leave a big footprint, because their personalities and their solutions to problems hark back to the iconic days which really don’t exist anymore. My characters truly live by the Code of the West.

Christi Williams writes contemporary sensual romance set in Wyoming. My strong heroines love cowboys and lawmen! I love hearing from readers, so please contact me.

Twitter: @writerchristi https://twitter.com/WriterChristi
blog: Some Like It Hotter http://writerchristi.blogspot.com/
The Romance Reviews http://www.theromancereviews.com/writerchristi


Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Haunted Open House Giveaway Blog Hop



http://hauntedopenhouse.blogspot.com/2013/09/haunted-open-house-giveaway-blog-hop.html
Nancy Gideon's Haunted Open House Hop Graphic - Large.png
Two commenters will win an ebook copy of Wicked Pleasures (Book 1 of the Wicked Wolves Series) Winners will be chosen randomly. Good luck!!!!!


I love Halloween. It's a favorite time of year for me. With all of the color changes, the brisk mornings, the scents that remind me of home...what's not to love?


I also enjoy Haunted Houses and Trails. I'm always looking for one with a spectacular spook rating. Honestly, I'm not easily frightened. In fact, I tend to laugh at spook. It's not a nervous laugh, but a humorous one. 


A few weeks ago, my husband and I, along with friends, went a few hours away to visit a haunted trail that we'd heard could scare the panties off of the bravest. I was skeptical, of course, considering I haven't been spooked by a goblin since I stopped wearing pigtails. But I was up for the challenge. When we arrived I was happy to find a short line. We'd arrived early to beat the crowds. I'm a bit impatient. As we waited, dressed-up characters zombie-walked the perimeter and some Johnny Depp look alike drove a souped up hearse around. Not bad, but definitely not scary.


Then it was our turn to aboard the topless school bus. At this point, I was more concerned with the approaching rain cloud than the looming killer holding a switchblade. Once the bus began it's path into the dark woods, I was curious who hid in the rows of corn to my right. I mean, isn't that the ultimate scare tactic? Jump out from the corn stalk like a deranged kid from Children of the Corn? I was a bit disappointed...no creatures lurked in the corn.


I'm a critic. But I've got to give credit where credit is due. The decorations were real enough looking and having zombie-like characters jumping on the bus with chainsaws, swords and blades can be a little daunting and the semi that chased us for a good half mile spiked the adrenaline a touch. I guess it was the wetness that ruined it for me. Before we were halfway done on the forty-five minute ride, the sky had opened and let out the biggest roar...a rain storm. It's hard to have fun when one's panties are soaked--with rain, that is.


Ride came to an end. Dripping and cold, we exited. As we were walking out we decided (well, I didn't. The men who had body mass to keep them warm decided) to check out the haunted house. At least it was inside, out of the rain.


Inside, they had a nice little set up. I'm thinking the entire time how much fun my kids would have here. My hubby is in the lead, and following close behind was the bestie, who WAS scared and had us cracking up laughing at his fear. Yes, I'm a great friend, I know...


And then it happens. I'm led into a narrow, dark tunnel. My worst fear. Seriously. Not I'm-spooked-this-is-great fear. I'm talking get-me-the-hell-out-before-I-hurt-someone fear. As the tunnel becomes narrower, and I'm certain we will be stuck here, in this hole, forever, I stop turn and tell my friend "Move it! I'm coming out!" Running him down while gritting my teeth to keep from peeing my pants (never any fun involved when one soaks their panties with pee), panting like I'd run a marathon, I come face-to-face with a group of teens who had the nerve to tell me, "We can't go back. The guy out there told us we have to finish. Sorry." My response, "Get the hell out of my way or I will go through you, over you, around you...got it?" The path was cleared. It must have been the demon-like tone in my voice. I'm remembering how useful it is so that I can conjure it at home when my kids misbehave.


Salvation. I've found the open room where I can breathe, only to be met by some awkward spidey-man-wanna-be who said, "You're not supposed to, but you can use a light." Great! How thoughtful of Spidey, considering we didn't have a light!


My hubby, who knows me better than anyone. He has seen me through the birth of our children, through anger and many other obstacles, then turns to me, "You can do this. Just hold on to me." And as I look at his calming face, his sincere gaze, his reassuring smile I pat him lovingly on the cheek. And then, I say, "Screw you!" And I'm gone like a ghost.


Happy Halloween!!!!




Buy Link:

http://www.amazon.com/Wicked-Pleasures-Wolves-ebook/dp/B00F1JX2X2/ref=sr_1_10?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1382446350&sr=1-10&keywords=rhonda+lee+carver
Excerpt:
BRONTE SNUGGLED DEEPER into the nest of pleasing warmth. She’d never felt such comfort.  Stretching her muscles, she sighed languidly as a rush of indulgence whirled through her. The nightmare of being held hostage by an arrogant ass couldn’t even fade the glorious feeling.  No other time had she slept all night.
Rolling over, her face pressed against something iron hard. Inhaling deeply, she froze. Her heart skipped a beat. The smell was familiar—woodsy mixed with mint. And who the hell was breathing in her ear?
Sliding one eye open, she jerked. Shit! She darted across the bed, pulling the red satin sheet with her. The kidnapping wasn’t a dream. The arrogant ass was here, in bed,with her! Worse, she was in his bed and he was sleeping soundly. Damn! He was naked!
She raked her gaze downward, soaking up every inch of his nudity.
Hell, she didn’t want to look at him, but for the life of her, she couldn’t help herself.  Admiring his physique broke some unwritten rule about captive not ogling her captor, but if he wasn’t aware, maybe it wasn’t so wrong. He was the description of perfect male, making her self-conscious of her own less-than-perfect body. From his broad shoulders, over massive chest, narrow waist, and—she jerked her glance away. Oh hell! He was hard and a size that matched every other large part of him.  It was so wrong that such a jerk had a body of Adonis.
“Forget the body,” she whispered. She wondered how he’d gotten naked. She lifted the sheet. And how the hell did I get naked?
She was going to be sick. Stomach twirling, she squeezed the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb. She couldn’t remember anything after he’d pulled out needle and thread and—
Biting back a moan, she held up her bandaged hand. With haste she’d never known, she tore off the white gauzy material. Shit! Shit! Her heart beat faster. She stared at her wounded hand neatly stitched and covered in clear salve. Looking over at the sleeping man, her mind fabricated ways she could teach him a lesson on boundaries, and so proudly flaunting his goods. Her eyes naturally fell to his long cock. She should follow through with a few of her own evil ideas.  Wonder how he’d like a few stitches in his tool?
No use. She was a wimp. At the mere sight of blood she’d probably pass out, and ending up unconscious was the last thing she wanted.
A horrible notion flashed through her mind. Was it possible they had sex? If she was out while he stitched her wound, anything could have happened. She reached down and touched her inner thighs. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, no swelling or sensitivity, and with a cock his size, she’d have physical evidence.
Some tension left her muscles. Although he didn’t violate her, would he next time?
How had he knocked her out? Had he hypnotized her?
There was no time to stick around and debate her questions. She knew this could be her one and only chance to get the hell away.
Bronte gave the sleeping figure one more glance. He still slept. His breathing was heavy and his chest rose and fell evenly. As quietly as possible, she slid to the edge of the bed, eased her legs over the side and placed her feet onto the cool floor.  She stood and wrapped the sheet around her body as she scanned the room for her clothes. They were gone. She guessed Roark had hid them from her, thinking she wouldn’t escape without clothes. Dressed or not, she’d get out of this place. Nudity was nothing compared to spending more time in Roark’s loony bin.
With a quick glimpse over her shoulder to make sure he was still asleep, Bronte started across the room toward the door. She took each tiptoed step with great care, but every breath and every time her foot pressed against the wood, it sounded like an explosion in her ears. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. Her heart fluttered at the possibility of freedom. Reaching the exit, she placed her palm on the knob, twisted and her hope dropped. Nothing happened. It was locked. The bastard! Maybe she could stand the sight of blood, just this once, if it meant getting revenge. She turned on heel and ran into a wall of flesh and muscle. Bringing her gaze up into an expression of pure wickedness, she gulped loudly.
“You didn’t think I’d allow you to walk out of here, did you?” His voice was husky from sleep. He yawned and wiped his eyes.
His laid-back attitude made her want to rip his eyes out. And having him stand there naked and proud, made her fury multiply. How dare he be so smug! “You can’t keep me here forever.”
 “How long you stay is completely up to you, sweetheart. You’re in control more than you think.”
She slanted her eyes, wishing she could shoot daggers into his head. “I’ll never have your child. You said you have plenty of willing women so why not find someone who is eager to have your baby?”
The corner of his lips curved downward. “I also told you that I didn’t pick you.”
Holding the sheet over her with one hand, she used the other to rub her aching temple. It wasn’t possible to have a conversation with someone who was in serious need of mental help.  “Okay, you’ve told me that. You didn’t pick me.” It was no use. “Where are my clothes? I am allowed to wear something, right?” He lowered his eyes over her sheet-covered body and every part of her quivered, in a very bad, but good, way. She tugged the satin material tighter as if it was a shield from his view. He brought his gaze back to hers and his twinkling eyes offended her, yet excited her. She’d need to see a therapist after this.
He laughed. How could he think this was humorous?
“Of course clothes are permitted. That is until you decide you want to frolic naked. It’s such a feeling of freedom, not to mention, without all of that material in the way it’s much easier to gain access to the lovely parts.”
Her face flamed with heat. She wanted to tell him just what she thought, but knew he’d give her some egotistical response. For now, she needed to get dressed. “Clothes? Where are they? White top, black pants.”
       “You can’t wear those.” He turned his back to her and went to the wardrobe. “I’ve already thrown them out.”
“Thrown them out? Why?” Bronte wanted to scream.  She watched him take out clothes from the cabinet, thinking he was going to give her something to wear, but instead he shook out a pair of dark denims and started to put them on. Her eyeballs itched to watch his tight backside, but she refused herself the pleasure. Nope, she wouldn’t do it. But as the jeans moved upward, her gaze went downward. She swore the man was a devil with power. And to top it off, his sex was hard…again. Did it ever deflate? She wondered how he’d fit himself inside the pants?
He turned and she made sure her stare was on his face. “They were spotted with blood.”
“Huh?” Her mind was confused.
“Your clothes. That’s what we were talking about.”
“And whose fault is it that they were bloody?” She huffed.
“Relax, Bronte. That color of pale doesn’t work for you,” he said as he passed her to the door. With his back to her, she wondered if she had time to find something to crack him over the head. She scanned the room until his voice snapped her into reality. “Tsk, tsk. Such brutal thoughts for a wisp of a woman. I’m not sure you could reach high enough. I liked you admiring my body much better.”
She opened her mouth to blast him with a four-letter word when her mind wrapped around the fact that he’d just read her thoughts. Every hair on her body stood erect. It wasn’t the first time he seemed to know what she was thinking.
He looked at her over his shoulder. “Do you think you can behave outside of the confines of this room? I’d hate to tie your wrists again. Touching you is much more tempting when you’re bound and pissed off.” He wriggled his brows.
“You’re unbelievable,” she snarled.
“Unbelievable is not the right word, sweetheart. I haven’t lied to you once to earn that label.” He smirked. “Now, answer the question or I’ll leave you in here until you lose some of that ladylike charm.”
“I deserve answers to my questions as well.” Her strength was weakening. Her hope of getting away was fading. This man had her right where he wanted her, but she refused to give up. Maybe he’d come to his senses.
His jaw loosened and his features softened. “You’re right. In time, you’ll get the answers you want. For now, let’s go to your room. Your new clothes are in there.”
My room?” The words spilled out like a bitter morsel of veracity. She had a room. He planned to keep her. The madness grew deeper.
He reached above the frame of the door and grabbed the key. She bit her bottom lip.So that was his hiding place. He opened the thick wooden door and stepped back, motioning for her to lead the way into the hall. “Remember what I said, fiery wench. Bounds and defiance are irresistible to me. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment you cocked me in the jaw.”
He only mocked her, but she wasn’t ready to test him. “Get over yourself and show me this room,” she said with animosity. “And then I hope I can have some privacy.”
“Ladies first.”
Walking into the hall, she looked around her. She half expected a camera crew to jump out from behind the scenes, yelling, “You’ve been punked.” No such luck.  She moved farther down the corridor, fully aware he was following her, like a predator.
“Here we are,” he said and she stopped at the closed doorway. It figured he’d have her next door to his own bedroom. He pushed past her and unlocked the door, then dropped the key back into his front pocket. He opened the door. “After you, sweetheart.”
Bronte wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting of the room. She wouldn’t have imagined it’d be extravagant, yet it was a bedroom fit for a queen—superbly designed and tastefully furnished. He’d gone to great lengths in every detail, making her wonder if he’d done all of this for her. She’d only seen rooms like this in magazines.
From the doorway, she admired the white wall with the intricate pearlescent stencil design, which was contemporary and sophisticated. Silk curtains framed the queen bed, which was adorned with matching bright mulberry colored bedding. Delicate crystal beads hung on one side of the bed, catching the rich colors of the blanket. Beautiful oil paintings of flowers and cherubs hung on the walls, elaborating on the romantic theme. French doors led to a balcony.
“Well, are you going to go in?” Roark asked from behind her.
“Yes, I guess I should.” She was in awe as she strolled further into the suite, wanting to bask in its beauty but she wouldn’t allow him the pleasure. “So, where are my clothes?”
“You’ll find everything you need in here. Clothes are in the drawers. The bathroom is here.” He pointed to a door to her right.
“Okay. You can go now.” The quicker he was out of her hair the sooner she could get dressed and get plotting her getaway.
He seemed to hesitate and then nodded. “Come downstairs in thirty minutes.”
“Sure, Master.”
“Your attitude is improving already.”


She gritted her teeth. He stepped out, closed the door behind him and she heard his laughter all the way down the hall. “Bastard,” she whispered. She half expected him to pop back in and scold her.