Sunday, June 1, 2014

Second Song Cowboy

 Second Song Cowboy...Available Now!!!!

Excerpt...Second Song Cowboy (Book 5, Second Chance)

Amazon...Buy here...
http://www.amazon.com/Second-Song-Cowboy-Chance-ebook/dp/B00KORLB4I/ref=sr_1_8?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1401636772&sr=1-8&keywords=rhonda+lee+carver


“I WON THE bet, sweetheart,” Dante waded into the cold water and every part of his body shriveled. “Now I plan to collect.”
April stood at the edge of the pond, digging her toes in the grass and holding her arms tight around her waist. The thin tank top and tight white shorts she wore sent his imagination down a forbidden territory. The swim shorts didn’t adequately cover growth and he popped above the elastic waist. He quickly adjusted himself but not before her gaze dropped. Her tongue swept out to moisten her bottom lip. When her eyes came back up, she smiled. “I don’t think you understood the bet at all.”
“What’s not to understand? If I ran naked through Hoover’s field then you’d jump into the pond.”
She dipped one toe into the water. “But it’s cold,” she whined.
“Yeah, and streaking in the rain at nightfall wasn’t too warm either. I’m in here already.” Dante squinted as he scanned the area. “And there isn’t anyone around.”
“Why don’t you admit it? You just want to see me freezing cold so you can laugh.” “I wouldn’t force you into anything you don’t want.” Guilt slipped through him. “You don’t have to follow through with the bet. It was stupid anyway. You’re afraid of this muddy water.” He took a step toward land, but movement caught his eye. He looked up as April pulled her shirt over her head. His chest tightened as he slid a gaze over her red bra. “Really, you don’t have to do this.”
“I’m not a chicken! Now turn your head,” she demanded. With untamed curls bouncing about flushed cheeks, she looked like a wild woman ready to pounce.
“I don’t think that was part of the bargain.” He chuckled.
“Dante Brooke! Turn!” Her modesty charmed him. He did as she requested and, a few seconds later, he heard a splash of water. He watched as she waded by him, her body submerged in the water except for her angelic face. “Happy now?”
She stood, with her back to him, water skimming her bare shoulders. He felt a twinge below his belt and counted to ten. It didn’t help much and he was afraid he’d make a fool of himself. His father told him that a man should think with his head, not his zipper, but Dante realized he was failing, miserably. He wondered if that included a nineteen year old. He swore April did funky things to him.
He couldn’t think when she was around. He wondered if his attention span would come back once he went back to the University of Texas in the fall. Frustration made his gut ache. He didn’t want to go back to school, but he couldn’t let his parents down and drop out.
“Dante?”
He brought his gaze up and April splashed him. He wiped the water droplets from his eyes. “You’ll get yours,” he teased. Moving through the water, he reached out and she dodged him.
What had started out as friendship between them had grown into something more over the last month, something he didn’t quite fully understand. Their heated kisses had turned into heavy petting in the front seat of his dad’s truck. The night always ended the same with him dropping her off at her grandfather’s house, where she was staying for the summer, and he’d go home to take care of his problematic salute alone.
He didn’t mind one bit that she wasn’t ready to take things further. Truth was, he’d wait as long as needed. It was just getting harder to hide the fact that he had parts with a mind of their own.
His thoughts traveled to the black velvet box hidden in the glove compartment of his truck, nestled there for the right time. Maybe they weren’t quite ready for marriage, but he knew in his heart that he’d promise her forever. Overcome with emotion, nervous laughter bubbled up in his chest.
“Oh, so you think this is funny, huh?” She swam up and pinched him on the bottom.
“Hey, you!” He caught her and tucked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. He loved the feeling of her firm breasts against his bare chest.
“How is it possible that this happens all the time?” She dropped her head back and met his gaze as she wiggled her hips.
“That I talk you into crazy stunts? We’re going to freeze when we climb out of the water.” He kissed her cheek. “I didn’t bring a towel.”
“No. This.” She glided her hand across the front of his shorts.
He chuckled. “Raging hormones. It’s perfectly normal for a guy between the ages of sixteen and twenty-three to get a hard-on at every slight breeze.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Really?”
Dante shrugged. “I just know that I’m more out of control when I’m near you.”
“I’m starting to wonder if I could—well—satisfy you. You know, in intimate ways.”
He placed his chin on top of her head and wrapped his arms tight around her shoulders. “I don’t think there’d be a problem.”
“But I’ve never done it before. You’re as close as I’ve gotten to second base, and that isn’t much to brag about.” She played with a lock of his hair.
“Don’t feel pressured. When it’s right, it’ll happen.”
“You’re patient with me.” She kissed his jaw.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You asked me what I want for my birthday and I know.” Her soft voice mingled with the breeze.
“Anything for you, April.” He meant it.
“I want you.”
“You have me. That is until I have to head back to college in a few weeks.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t have you in the way I’m wanting. I don’t want to head to Nashville a virgin.”
“Why? Are you afraid your virginity will keep you from fitting in?” He rubbed his nose with hers. “Trust me, you’ll blow their hearts away with that voice of yours.”
Blinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Dante, I want to share this precious gift with you. I couldn’t imagine giving this to any other.”
His body automatically tensed as he took a small step back, scraping his feet across the dirt bottom of the pond. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I want my first time to be with you. These last few months have been the best of my life.” She bent her head and kissed his chest, licking a few water drops from his skin. His breath swooshed from his lungs as he stared down at her, unknown places of his body ached. She was a beautiful sight and he knew he’d never deny her.
 “I’ll take very good care of you. I promise,” he whispered next to her ear.
Popping her head up, her green eyes glistened in the sunlight. “I know you will. Now, come on.” She grabbed his hand and practically pulled him along. Her knees came up high as she awkwardly made her way through the water. “I’ve read in a magazine how orgasms work, and although I’ve never done this before, I can’t wait to try. Did you know that a man can go in twenty seconds but it takes a woman on average twenty minutes?”
“Twenty seconds?” He hoped he could last longer, but a sliver of doubt crept up his spine. He would have laughed if he wasn’t so turned on. How did a guy like him deserve a diamond like her?
How had he missed her beauty all these years?
In the past, when she’d come to visit her grandpa, she’d been a scrawny, shy teenager who giggled every time he looked her direction. Now, the glasses and braces were gone, and she’d blossomed into a butterfly. Her confidence had boosted and, although a slice of bashfulness remained, she could light up a room the second she walked through the door.
He hadn’t left her side much since she came to town three months ago. Life wasn’t as fun without her next to him. Like the time the snake slithered across their path in the woods. She’d screamed and threw herself into his arms, clinging to him like butter on toast. The harmless Brown Snake had disappeared into the brush, and as he’d started to pry her from his body and tell her the critter was non-poisonous, he’d taken a second thought. He’d liked having her close. When he’d finally told her the truth, about the snake being harmless, she’d playfully smacked him, which soon turned into their first kiss.
His brother, Deckland, had joked and said April was making Dante into a man. He wasn’t sure, but he knew he wanted to protect her and take care of her.
As she stepped out of the veil of water, he ticked his gaze over her, his heart skipping several beats. Her long, wet hair clung to her slender shoulders and flowed like pale silk to her waist. Droplets of water beaded on her breasts and flat stomach, glistening in the sunlight. A lovely smile creased the corners of her shell pink lips, driving his anticipation deeper.
They walked into the thick grass and she turned to face him, throwing her arms around his neck, careless that she was still bare-ass naked. Enclosing an arm around her waist, he pulled her in, wet bodies sliding together as he slipped his palm over her heart-shaped bottom.
“I’m so lucky to have found you, Dante.”
He closed his eyes, making a silent vow that he would always take care of her. Being with her, making her the happiest girl alive was his goal. He’d graduate from UT and she’d come back from Nashville, and then they’d settle here on his family’s ranch. “You do realize that you have me wrapped around your finger.” He lifted her off her feet, tucked her goosebump-covered body close and carried her toward the truck. “The sun is lowering. Do you have a problem with me giving you your birthday present under a sky full of stars?” He nuzzled her neck.
 “Perfect. This is more than I could ever dream possible,” she purred. Kicking her legs friskily, she reached up toward the sky as if she wanted to give a fat cloud a hug. “No matter what, I’ll always be right here, with you. I could write a song—hundreds of songs—just about tonight.”
“One day you will, sweetheart. I’m sure your future is brighter than any star in the sky.”




Friday, May 23, 2014

Big Hands, Big Feet, Big P%&*s?!?

Y'all know the old saying, "You can tell a lot from the size of a man's hands."

But is it true? Ya know, that you can look at a man's hands and get a good idea how big his southern salute is at its tallest...

But, is there any evidence correlating a man's hands and how big his snake is? Well, believe it or not, studies were conducted to answer this question. Yes, really, lots of research. Do you wish you'd been on the list of researchers? Guess what? They didn't find any evidence.

I wonder how they measured the units. Hard, flaccid, stretched? And is it possible to get an accurate reading? Wouldn't they have to take into consideration how turned on he is at the time of measurement?

I'll go out on a limb. I think when a woman is available and looking, she notices a man's hands and speculates about the goods. We correlate large, thick hands with a man who works hard. Makes sense, right? Men, and women, who work with their hands a lot have bigger hands.

So, if your scoping out men and using hands as a gauge, beware. It can't possibly be accurate.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Those pain-in-the-ass words...

Which vs. That.

If they are a pain in your behind, don't worry, they give lots of people grief. It's all tied up between restrictive and non-restrictive clauses.

A restrictive clause limits, or restricts, the scope of the noun it is referring to. For example...

The house that is painted white burnt down. (Restrictive Clause)

In this sentence, we are talking about the "white" house specifically. If we take out "that is painted white" the sentence loses important information. We no longer have any clue what house burnt down.

The house, which is painted white, burnt down. (Non-restrictive Clause)

In this sentence, "which is painted white" is added information that can be discarded and the sentence wouldn't be harmed. The clause isn't essential for the meaning.

Also, that isn't separated from the rest of the sentence with commas.

Which needs separated by commas showing parenthesis.


Monday, May 12, 2014

Writing Process Blog Hop

Thank you Leslie Lee Sanders for including me in the blog hop. Check out Leslie at the link below.http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.leslieleesanders.com%2F&h=EAQEB_P7qThese are the questions I must answer...
1) What am I working on?
I'm on the last few words of Second Song Cowboy, Book 5 of the Second Chance Series. In this story fate takes an interesting twist for a couple who parted paths years before. April is a popular country singer and Dante is a cowboy with a bad-boy reputation. What will it take for each of them to change?Check out the series at Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_10?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=rhonda+lee+carver&sprefix=Rhonda+Lee%2Cdigital-text%2C158 


2) How does my work differ from others of its genre?
I like writing characters who are imperfect. Whether it's internal or external scars, a painful past, a bad reputation...they are different. I also enjoy writing second chance romance. Two people who have loved each other deeply, then lost that person, and finds them again. They must work out the baggage, learn to trust again. Trust is always difficult once you've been hurt, and it's interesting to weave a story where loved ones patch up the holes of a broken past.
 
3) Why do I write what I do?
 When I was thirteen, I read a Harlequin novel. I was hooked. I knew one day I'd write my own romance and now here I am.

4) How does your writing process work?
I'm a full-time writer, so once my wee ones head to school, I go into the writing cave and that's where I am for seven hours a day, give or take. During this time, I need complete silence. Any interruptions and my concentration is thrown off, taking forever to find the 'feel' of the moment. I usually set a goal at 5k words a day. Sometimes I'm heroic and manage 10k, but other times I'm certain my writing is s*$t and two words seems like an uphill battle.

Thank you again for sharing with me Leslie.




Here are my three picks...





May 14th...Tracey Jane Jackson


Amazon best selling author, Tracey Jane Jackson was born and raised in New Zealand. With an American father, Scottish grandmother, and Kiwi mother, it's no doubt she has a unique personality. After pursuing her American roots and disappearing into her time travel series, The Civil War Brides, she thought she'd explore the Scottish side of her family. Tracey says, "I have loved delving into the Cauld Ane's and all their abilities...I hope you do too." Tracey has been happily married and gooey in love with her husband for nineteen years. They live in the Pacific Northwest with their two sons.
http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.traceyjanejackson.blogspot.com%2F&h=bAQGs7dnu





May 15th...Em Petrova:  

Em Petrova
Em Petrova lives in Backwoods, Pennsylvania, where she raises 4 kids and a Labradoodle named Daisy Hasselhoff. Her heroes are hardworking heroes--in bed and out--and she is known for panty-scorching erotic romance.





I'd like to introduce you to some of my cowboys.







Tuesday, April 22, 2014

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 

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

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

Monday, April 7, 2014

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."