Random Excerpt from Second Dance Cowboy (Second Chance)

Once upon a time, if Dillon had propositioned her, she’d have tumbled, no questions asked. She wasn’t that naive girl any longer.

Anyway, one-night stands were for people who stayed up past ten o’clock on school nights. For women who were risk-takers, not safety-seekers.

Another thought tripped through her mind. Dang. She wasn’t wearing her best underwear. Had she shaven her legs that morning? That blew the lingering lust all to hell. Falling off the sex wagon with flowered, cotton panties and hairy legs would be a scandal.

Her stomach rolled.

Why did he have to smell so good? And look like a model?

She snuck another glance to his belt buckle. She’d always wondered if he was built. A man with those brawny shoulders and slender hips, she’d guess there’d be no disappointment. His zipper moved and she sucked in a breath. Lifting her gaze, she realized he was watching her. She jerked her eyes to the road.

Oh my God. I just gave Dillon Brooke a hard-on.

She bit back a squeal. Realizing this was the happiest she’d been in days, she cringed. She was so not cool.

Turning onto the gravel drive, passing the metal swinging sign that read Brooke Creek, she prepared herself for turning away from the one man she’d fantasized about more than Mark Walhberg.

Maybe he’d changed his mind too. He’d been quiet for some time. Disappointment slithered through her, churning her stomach. She’d turn away, sure, but she wanted him to want her, not bearing the thought of him snubbing her again.

She shook her head at her own absurdity.

Approaching the house, her intestines gurgled. She pulled close to the gate, slid the car into park and waited.

He twisted in the seat, his gaze held hers. Her tongue grew thick. He started to move in…would he kiss her. Apprehension bubbled up inside of her. Fear mixed with excitement. Then she did it. She pressed her hand against his chest in silent rejection.

“I’ve got to go home.” Her words were like a guillotine on the neck of promise.

He blinked, but his expression didn’t change. “Okay.”

Would he argue? Would he ask her to change her mind? A man like Dillon didn’t need to ask a woman a second time.

“Thank you for bringing me out here. Will you be okay going back?” His hand was already on the handle.

“I’ll be fine.” She forced a smile to her trembling lips. “Thank you for the dance. It was very nice.” What? Was that how she’d leave this? She wanted to rip his shirt off and lick him all over. Explore every delectable inch. Her fingers itched to undo the belt buckle and touch him in mystical places.

Buy Link: Second Dance Cowboy 

18+ Random Excerpt from Fighting Flames

Hearing a noise outside of the room, she waited and listened. People were talking loud, disturbing her peace. She growled and had a strong desire to throw a shoe at the door.

Stretching her arms high above her head, she liked the luscious burn between her shoulder blades. Her body was getting stronger—she felt stronger. She bent over to give her backside a nice stretch when a knock came at the door.

“Occupied,” she said. She curved her body even lower, ass high in the air.

The door flung open, cracking against the wall. She shot up and turned, adrenaline spiking her veins. A big, beefcake firefighter, covered from head to toe in gear, blocked the doorway. Ready to lash out in complaint, she felt a strong cool breeze and squealed. I’m naked! She grabbed the first thing she could find, a baby towel. Covering her breasts with one arm, she used the towel over the rest. “What are you doing? Get out!” she yelled.

“Sorry, ma’am. There’s a fire in this facility and I’m going to have to escort you out.” The mask muffled his words.

“A fire? I didn’t hear an alarm?” Did he think he could burst into her room and expect her to follow his request? Who cared if he looked legit?

“They must be broken. You need to exit the building now!”

Chaos sounded from the hall. Looking beyond his brawny frame, she saw another firefighter pass. Her heart beat faster as she clutched the towel tighter. “Let me get dressed…” No free hands to work with, she debated the lesser of two evils…bare breasts or bare twat? She went with the first, reaching for her clothes from the side table. Did she hear the man gasp?

“I’m sorry, but there’s no time to waste,” he said as he took a step closer and tossed her a folded sheet. “Wrap that around your body.”

“Are you kidding me? There’s no way I’m going out there in this.” She held up the white material. Taking a step back, her mind frantically weighed the options, although slim.

Die in a fire—no good.

Wear a sheet in public—still no good.

“This isn’t difficult, lady.”

“But…what difference does one minute make?”

“Bring your clothes with you. I’m getting you the hell out of this building, one way or another.” He moved to the middle of the room, engulfing the small space.

Karsyn’s breathing became ragged. “I can’t go out there like this.” Even as she said the words, she jerked the cotton material over her nudity. The oblong sheet barely covered her butt cheeks. “This is insane. This slip of cloth is made for a table, not a body.”

“So be it.” Before she realized what he was doing, he took two quick strides and clutched her around the legs, throwing her up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Put me down, you—you ogre! I refuse to be treated this way!” She pummeled his back, which probably didn’t make him flinch. Kicking her legs made him tighten his grip around her thighs. Her eyes filled with tears as humiliation spread through her. She knew her bare ass was high in the air. She’d never live this down.

Buy here:

http://www.amazon.com/Fighting-Flames-Rhonda-Lee-Carver-ebook/dp/B00JK5N1RA/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&qid=1397086209&sr=8-7&keywords=rhonda+lee+carver

To tat or not to tat?!?

In a world where billions of books tempt readers with their silent calling, authors can probably agree on the importance of having a spectacular cover. A cover says a lot about what a reader will find once opening the pages.

So, the appearance of a model is important. If you're writing a sweet romance, a dressed hero and heroine would fit. If you're writing erotica, a spicy cover tells readers to hold on to their socks because it's a hot one. I'm not an expert cover artist, but for me, I like the subtle message that a cover sends. Please leave a little to the imagination. It's like the carrot dangling before my nose...entice me, tempt me, then pull out all of the stops within the story.

For instance, take a look at the three pics below. What do they say to you? We wouldn't snub our nose at any of these models, now would we? When I posted pic #1 and pic #2 on FB, asking which model do readers prefer, #1 won by a landslide. A few found the tats to be a turn off. But tats on a cover model tells you something about the hero, something you might want to know before you buy the book. I wouldn't slap #1 (maybe on the bottom, lol) on a sweet romance, not only because of the tats but he is sending a message that he likes to get down (if you know what I mean). He'd fit fine and dandy on my WIP, a firefighter, hot romance.

#2 would work perfectly with a cowboy hat and a big belt buckle, and used for one of my cowboy stories.

A reader who is looking for a sweet romance doesn't want to open a cover and see "cock" "tits" "BJ" and other naughty language. Vice versa, a reader looking for hot sex will be disappointed if a story lacks in heat. And the cover, well, it sends the subtle message. In other words, "Judge a book by its cover."