Giveaway!!! Lots of goodies!!!

I've joined Samantha Holt, Em Petrova and Em Taylor for an awesome giveaway. We have jewelry and gift cards.

Enter below!!!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Big hands...big P%$**

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.

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?

Em Petrova

Cowboy heroes

Worn Wranglers, a broken-in hat and a denim shirt washed to softness…Whooeee, we’re talking cowboy heroes!

What’s so compelling about cowboys? They’re hardworking men. They don’t mind getting their hands dirty and they stay until the job is done. We definitely like those traits in bed, don’t we?

I love writing cowboy heroes. My heroes are usually straight-talkers. They know what they want and go after it. Even if they don’t always say the right thing and make mistakes along the way, they are man enough to own their shortcomings and try to win the girl.

Writing cowboys means knowing horses and trucks, animals and soil. I truly love researching the things I don’t know and discovering new information. Every month when a new copy of Cowboy Way Magazine arrives on my Kindle, I squee a little. Okay, a lot!

My heroes are all hardworking—in bed and out. I write loggers, firemen, bikers and more, but I definitely have a soft spot for guys in boots and chaps! What about you? I’d love to hear from you.

 BOOK SYNOPSIS:

Sexual dysfunction. The words make Sibyll cringe, but after one too many failed relationships, she has to face reality. Her O-button is broken, big time. Sick of sitting on the sexual sidelines, she books a week at Boot Knockers Ranch. If a passel of rugged cowboys vying to bring her bliss can’t get her off, nothing will.

Hugh had planned to sit out this week’s rotation of sexual therapy, but when he spots sultry Sibyll, he pulls rank. His bone-deep urge to possess her isn’t enough to coax elusive orgasms out of her body, though. And his resolve to give the lady whatever she needs wavers when she shyly makes a mind-blowing request.
Riggs stepped aside when Hugh muscled in to claim Sibyll, but he jumps at the chance to fulfill her ultimate fantasy—a threesome. But once they come together, all barriers are stripped away, exposing his love for the one man—and woman—he’d break every last rule to make his own.

Goodreads Link – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20862757-pushin-buttons?from_search=true

EXCERPT:

Sibyll followed her gaze to the door between stage entrance and hallway several feet away. His back was to her and the other dozen women, his shoulders taking up most of the door frame and his white T-shirt molded to a chiseled back. Sibyll outlined his back muscles with her gaze, cutting a path down to a backside hugged by worn denim.

The cowboy pivoted. His face was illuminated by the overhead lights as he talked to the perky Isabel, the ringleader of this insane audition process.

“He has a black eye!” someone whispered.

“From a bar fight? Please let it be from a bar fight!” a woman with a gorgeous head of red hair and thick glasses added.

The cowboy raised his head and stared at the women. Suddenly Sibyll’s muscles tensed to run. She didn’t want to be here, had made the wrong decision. So what if I can’t experience “physical and emotional sensation at the peak of sexual excitation” according to Dictionary.com?

Isabel swooped through the door and pointed at the curvaceous brunette to Sibyll’s right. “You’re next.” Then she returned to the doorway, where she leaned and talked to the cowboy with the black eye.

Dust motes swirled hectically in the lights streaming from the stage. Sibyll tried to follow one with her eyes. Anything to keep from looking directly at that cowboy’s handsome, rugged face.

He was huge—tall and broad and muscled in all the ways that made the knot in Sibyll’s core want to unravel. But it never did.

Maybe if he fights to win me, I could.

He glanced up again, and the group of women tittered. The leggy blonde was led offstage on the arm of a cowboy wearing all black except his shiny silver and turquoise belt buckle.

“Wow, he’s fine. Jenny’s lucky to get him,” the virgin whispered after they passed. They stopped at the door, and the production manager moved to the side so they could pass.

The black-eyed cowboy with the two-day-old dark stubble on his jaw shook hands with both cowboy and contestant.

“You—sexy secretary—you’re next.” The production manager jabbed a finger in Sibyll’s direction.

She looked around herself. A slight girl to her right wore a peasant dress and thong sandals, and the tall, toned girl to her left wore sporty shorts and a T-shirt with an energy drink logo.

“Wh—? Me?” Sibyll pointed to her chest.

“Yep, you.” The production manager whirled back to speak with the cowboy, but he’d strolled through the door and was making his molasses-sweet way across the stage.

He passed the first group of contestants, who froze like a herd of deer in the middle of Highway 495. He dipped his head and positioned a battered brown cowboy hat on it. “Howdy,” he drawled, lips curled in the perfect dose of Southern gentleman and cocky bad-boy.

Feminine sighs sounded in response. Sibyll’s heart thumped as he neared her small group standing nearest to the stage. The closer he got, the more his bulk seemed to take up all the space in the room. Or maybe that was testosterone.

He dropped a wink at the virgin and leaned in to speak to her. “The black eye was nothin’ as glamorous as a kick-ass bar fight. Took a hoof yesterday working with the horses.” He straightened and settled his gaze right on Sibyll.

She stopped breathing as electricity passed between them.

That’s my imagination. I’m so keyed up.

The cowboy cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. Around them, women gawked. Hell, even Isabel the production manager stood with her mouth open, glancing between the huge cowboy and her clipboard.

“Hugh, you’re not filling in today, are you?” Isabel asked.

The man blinked, severing his hold on Sibyll. He shook his head. “Nah, I’m not competin’ today. I’m Master of Games as usual.” He pinned Sibyll again with his gaze. Something dark and exciting coiled low in her belly. What if this man did stand up for her?

I’d choose him in a heartbeat.

AUTHOR BIO:

Em Petrova lives in backwoods Pennsylvania, where she raises four kids and a Labradoodle puppy named Daisy Hasselhoff and pays too damn much for utilities. She loves to write gritty characters with lots of heart and is well-known for scorching, panty-soaking erotic romance.

STALKER LINKS:

Website/Blog – http://empetrova.com http://hardworkingheroes.wordpress.com

Facebook –  http://www.facebook.com/empetrovahardworkingheroes www.facebook.com/empetrovahardworkingheroes

Twitter – https://twitter.com/empetrova

Networked Blogs – http://wildandwickedcowboys.wordpress.com http://69shadesofsmut.wordpress.com

GIVEAWAY:

$10 Amazon GC

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Older men, better lovers?!?

He quickly rid his body of clothes and crawled atop her. She brushes her fingers over rippled flesh, down to the tight ass she'd wanted to touch for months. Closing her eyes, she anticipated the moment he'd bring her to... Her eyes come open. He was already between her legs. Wha? Not yet!  Barely ready, she wanted foreplay. Pump, pump, pumpity-pump. Two minutes later, he rolled over and smiled. "Wow...I hope that was as good for you as it was for me. Wanna play a video game?"

Okay, I'm being dramatic and probably unfair to most young male lovers. Right? But let's face it, young people might have tighter muscles as a reward of youth, but seasoned men and women have the mojo juice they've earned from experience.

Why do young women search out older, distinguished gentleman? Yeah--probably a thick wallet--but there's something more that he can offer. In bed, he knows what to do, how to do it, and how long to do it. And men over 40 are getting their groove on more than ever. Exciting, huh? Older men take great effort in pleasing the one they're with, and they have ultimate control when it counts.

Advantages to older men;

1. He's less likely to play mind games (or videogames right after sex :))

2. Experience=a silent prayer from a lover.

3. Vocal in bed, which means he'll tell you what he wants and how he wants it. That's sexy.

4. Realizes a woman needs foreplay before the big bang. It can take a woman 20 minutes to reach the big O and a man only 3 minutes. Now you see how important foreplay is?

5. Ages like a fine wine.

Here are examples of sexy aging men...

Now tell me you'd throw any of them out of your bed because they have silver/pepper hair...

Guest...Samantha Holt

I'm excited to welcome the fabulous Samantha Holt.

To Dream of a Highlander

Samantha Holt

Blurb:

Scotland, 1230

Sent on a rescue mission, Finn Mac Chaluim is prepared to do his duty, hand over the lass and return home.

But fate has other ideas.

In the midst of a Norse invasion, Catriona barely escapes with her life. Masquerading as her sister, she finds herself in the hands of Finn who intends to hand her over to her sister’s betrothed, Laird Gillean. In the interests of bringing peace to her home, Catriona is determined to continue the ruse—even if it means going along with the marriage and denying her growing attraction to a man who keeps his hurts hidden behind a quick grin.

If the green faery, Tèile, has anything to do with it, Catriona and Finn will come together—but only at the right time. Thanks to her last attempt at matchmaking, many paths were changed and now it’s up to her to put it right. Can she help Finn— who learned the hard way that sharing your life with someone only leads to heartache—get past his doubts? And will the battle-scarred Catriona even accept him into her heart? When Laird Gillean’s attentions toward Catriona become dangerous, both Finn and Tèile will find they have an uphill battle on their hands.

Buy link: http://amzn.com/B00JK4KJ12

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/269576469878786

Excerpt:

He swung his gaze around, grateful the night had not yet swallowed them. A flash of green a few feet in front of him caught his eye. Hair swirling about her, gown waving like seaweed in the wash, she floated on the surface—knocked senseless.

“Damnation!”

With several strong strides, he caught up with her. The tide drew her away but it was not strong enough to defeat him. The sea now up to his hips, he dragged Katelyn into his arms. By God, her gown weighed her down. Even for a man of his strength, he felt as though he were carrying a heavy sack of grain rather than a sylph of a woman.

Wading to the boat, he hefted her out of the water and passed her to Logan. The man shook his head. “Sorry, Finn. We were concentrating on not getting tossed about in the wash. ‘Tisnae easy holding such a small vessel steady.”

“Aye, have no fear. ‘Twas my fault. The lass has clearly had a shock and I should have been watching her more closely.”

Logan laid her in the bow while Finn clambered in. He knelt by the lass and glanced up at Logan.

“She must have taken a hit to the head.”

“Aye, likely against the boat. Must have hit hard to render her senseless.”

Finn nodded. “Let us get on our way. We can do no good for her here.”

“Aye,” Logan agreed and backed away to help row the boat from the shoreline.

Leaning over her, Finn studied the gash on her forehead with a grimace. Poor lass. She’d have a mighty fine headache when she awoke. The steady rise and fall of her breasts against the soaked green wool assured him no permanent damage had been done.

“Ye’ll have to get her out of those wet garments,” Logan called out behind him.

Finn clenched his teeth. “Aye, thank ye, Logan. I’m aware o’ that.”

He ran his gaze over her. Damn his luck. He’d undressed many a fine woman but none had ever been out cold and an unwilling partner. No doubt the lady would be deeply ashamed he’d done as much. But he could hardly leave her to die from exposure. If anything, his sister would have his head.

Fingers tentatively prying at the front of her bodice, he forced his gaze onto the wood just behind her head. But the wet fabric proved too hard to tug apart so he pressed his hands to her back and lifted her lifeless form. Icy skin and sumptuous curves flattened briefly to his chest as he fumbled with the ties at the back of her gown. By God, when had he ever blundered like a whelp when undressing a woman? But he had to admit, though he’d had little time to admire her and the swelling on her face did not reveal her features properly, the flash of creamy skin was tempting enough. In other circumstances—and had she been anyone other than a lady in distress—he’d have enjoyed such a sight.

He had her face pressed into his neck as he pulled her gown from her. Soft skin under his fingertips forced his breath to stilt. Only the grunts of men rowing reminded him he was meant to be helping the lass and not enjoying the moment.

Katelyn’s chemise and gown came away in one go and he peered behind him, narrowing his eyes at the men. “Keep yer eyes away,” he warned, “or I’ll be having yer heads.”

Bare or a teddy bear?!?

Once upon a time, if you'd asked me if I prefer a man's chest with or without hair, I would have said "bare" with no hesitation. After all, how often are "hairy" men starred for, well, their hair? Bodybuilders shave it. Cover artists Photoshop it. And more men wax than we could ever imagine.

Let's face the truth, smooth skin is in...always has been. However, no one, except for a baby, has non-hairy flesh.

When I met my DH, his chest was smooth without a trace of a hair anywhere. As he ages, he's getting hair in places he never thought possible. He complains about his chest hair and has shaved a handful of times, but before he can blink and say "smooth" the hair is making its appearance, again. Up until recently, I was advocating wax, razor, electrolysis, you name it, until he let it grow. A patch of dark, crisp hair isn't too bad. Now, if he turned into Chewbacca's twin, I'd have to call for an emergency hair removal. But I'd bet a year of chocolate we're safe that he doesn't have Chewbacca's bloodline.

My newest hero has chest hair. Good thing my heroine loves to run her fingers through the patch.

Here are a few arguments FOR hair...





 



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