Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Sweet, Sabel Hunter? Hell Yeah!

Today I have Sable Hunter as a guest on my blog and she's got some venting to to! No matter the case, I love Sable and I love her books so sweet or not, I'll be reading them! ;)

Sweet. Sable? Hell Yeah!

I have decided to venture into the world of the sweeter romance. It’s hard for me, erotic romance is very much my comfort zone. I have a wonderful base of readers that I would never trade for anything in the world, and I have assured them that I will never abandon this genre. But I am also releasing my erotic books in a toned down, (not much) version. Not eliminating the erotic – in addition to. Why, you might ask?

It’s complicated.

I have always been the good girl. I had a reputation for years of never venturing outside the established boundaries of acceptable behavior in my small-town, redneck, conservative community. In fact, I was the one they called if they needed to discuss problems – for example – a) do I think the Lord will return in my lifetime, b) how do I explain to my grown son that he needs to have his family in church, or c) why can’t I forgive myself for the mistakes I made in the past. And I would try and help them. I was involved in several community endeavors on multiple layers – until the day it was discovered that their sweet, friendly neighbor was in fact Sable Hunter.
I can’t even begin to tell you what I’ve been through. I have been made to feel like I have created the most vile works known to man. And the sad thing was – none of the folks yelling the loudest even bothered to read a word, they just saw the words ‘erotic’ and attacked. I won’t go into detail, or tell you what was said or how I am dealing with it, but it gets lonely when your world turns against you.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not stopping what I do. I enjoy creating sensuality and celebrating physical love – and anyone who reads my romances know that I handle the explicitness with respect, gentleness, lots of loving dialogue and a complete commitment between the two parties. I have been told I write delicious sex – and that makes me smile. Sex is never in my books for sex’s sake, but – as we all know – sex is the way a couple demonstrates their affection and desire and lust and - - Lord, we all do it – even the ones who wanted to hang me in the town square – do it. But, what gets me is that some people won’t give the work a chance, if it is a certain heat level. And I have a story to tell, my stories and characters and plots and energy and hope and dreams are more than just sex.

So, I want to venture out and let the ones who wouldn’t touch me with a ten foot pole have a chance to read my vision. My books are me. I am on every page. All of the insecurities and fears and fantasies are mine. But this is true of any author, we pour our very hearts and souls into every word.

So, I’m launching the McCoy’s into mainstream, and it’s not just about broadening my reader base or tapping another market. It’s about proving to those who would judge me that I can pen a love story where the message is pure, the hero is worthy and the story is more than just a slap and a tickle with a happy ending. My books deal with abuse and prejudice, my heroines face obstacles like cancer and dyslexia. I delve into the world darkened by blindness and bound by fetters of a past they have no control over. What I yearn to do is touch people, I want to connect my heart vision to theirs. And I have, I get letters and emails telling me that something I said made a difference in their lives – and really, that’s the bottom line. I want to make a difference. I don’t want to just be known as someone who writes ‘smut’, although I will fight that notion with all that is in me – Libby and Aron’s love is not smut, Patrick’s redemption of Savannah is not smut, Jacob’s embracing of Jessie and her child is not smut, Isaac’s realizing he is worthy of Avery’s love is not smut. Beau pulling Harley back from the brink after a rape is not smut. Ethan teaching Annalise that her scars make no difference is not smut. Ah, well. I’ll hush now. I’ve had my say. And I thank this dear friend for allowing me to vent.

Please visit me - - I’m really not as crazy as I sound (*Laci's note - She really isn't crazy, she's a sweet heart)...

Here’s the link to Cowboy Heat - Sweeter Version And My Website (Sable's) And author page Facebook
I will answer each and every email I receive –


I offer a Sweeter version for you or one for your friend – leave a comment and I’ll let Mojo nose the winning name.Here’s a glimpse into Aron and Libby’s sweeter world – haha.

Seeing Aron reminded Libby that she needed to talk to Nathan at the first opportunity and remind him of her temporary status. Handing Nathan his lunch, she answered, “I sure do, Big Man. Ham and cheese sandwiches, apple chips and lemon bars. Does that sound like something you’d like?” Nathan stepped forward and clasped her around the waist.
“Thanks Libs.” He had heard Aron call her that. “And thanks for helping me with that paper last night. You are really smart. I didn’t know there were so many different Indian tribes living in Texas so long ago. And that program saved my life, it made everything a lot easier. I don’t know what we ever did before you came along.”
Returning his hug, she looked guiltily at the men watching her. Why did she feel like she was doing something wrong? Trying to do as Aron asked, she cleared her throat and began. ”You did just fine before I came. Miss Bess took great care of you and when I’m gone, she’ll be right here taking good care of you again. You know I don‘t want to leave, but I have to. This is your home and Bess’s. I’m just merely passing through.” Patting Nathan on the back, she looked up at Aron with a small smile and an expectant look, seeking his approval. She was trying to do as he asked.
Aron excused himself from his brother and whacked Nathan on the shoulder as he left to catch the bus. His baby was looking at him with the saddest eyes. He knew she was just doing as he had asked; she was trying to remind Nathan that her time on Tebow would soon draw to a close. Well, to hell with that!
He should never have asked her to distance herself from any of them. He was a fool, and it was time this fool set things straight. She had turned away from him and was watching Nathan walk toward the road. He slipped up behind her and caught her back against him. She melted into him like butter on toast.
“Did I please you?”
Turning her in his arms, he pushed her back and back until he had her cornered in the butler’s pantry. “You have pleased me in countless ways, Libby: the heat of your kisses pleases me, the feel of your pebbled nipples on my tongue pleases me...I’d say everything about you pleases the hell out of me.” He held her flat against the wall, both of her hands captive in one of his. Touching his forehead to hers, he pinned her down. “But I find that what you did this morning, telling Nathan we would get along just fine without you—that pleased me not at all.” Aron growled out the last words.
Straining to read his expression, Libby was confused. “I did as you asked, Aron. I reminded Nathan I was leaving, and that Bess would be back where she belonged.”
“I know you did as I asked, but you didn’t take one thing into consideration.” He began to rain peppery little kisses all over her face, attempting to convey to her how much he cherished her.
“What’s that?” He had magical kisses. Libby arched her neck, giving him full access to her throat, and when he dipped down to the open vee of her T-shirt, she shamelessly thrust her breasts against him, begging for him to take his petting to the next level.
Aron laid his head on her shoulder, allowing her to lower her hands, and she immediately settled them around his waist. He said nothing for a few moments, and then he spoke softly, “You didn’t take into consideration that I am a fool...I can’t stand the thought of you leaving. Sweetheart, I don’t ever want you to leave.” Dropping to his knees, he nudged her shirt up with his nose and he kissed her soft, flat belly.
Libby was shaking. Cradling his head in her hands, she turned his face up to look at her. “Aron, it’s okay. I know Bess is coming back, and I know there’s no legitimate place for me here.”
“You’re wrong. There is a place for you here. In my home, in my room, in my bed, but most my heart.” Damn! He was about to make a declaration in the crappin pantry. Without asking, he picked her up and headed for the stairs.
“Aron, it’s not even eight o’clock. We just got up, and you have to leave for an auction in less than an hour.” Not that she was complaining, she would never, ever turn down a chance to love on Aron.
“I realize that, but I forgot to do something last night.” Thank goodness his door was open, so he didn’t want to slow down long enough to open it, but he did kick it closed. “I can work wonders in an hour.”
“Yes, you can,” she agreed with him. “You are a master of the erotic experience, a connoisseur of caresses, an oracle of orgasms...” Aron tackled her and for a few wonderful moments, they wrestled around on the bed. “It’s not fair...” Libby gasped.
Aron straddled her, holding her immobile. “What’s not fair?” he queried, smiling like the devil he was.
“You’re so much bigger than me, I don’t have a chance.” Her mouth puckered into a pout, which he kissed away.
“You like me bigger,” he teased, his eyes alight with mischief, rubbing his groin against her privates.
“Well, true.” He had her full attention. Lord, he was an irresistible force.
Aron sobered, climbing off and stretching out beside her. “You like me bigger, because I can take care of you.”
She stared into his eyes; they were the color of a summer storm. “I’ve enjoyed that sensation, yes.” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words which would lay claim to him. She didn’t have any right to expect his care. She was temporary.
“Let me take care of you now, Libby.” Slowly he undressed her, kissing each exposed area tenderly before moving on. Next, he shed his own clothing. No words were necessary. He knew she wanted the same thing he did.
Sitting up on the edge of the bed, he pulled her into his lap. He placed her smooth back to his front. Libby nestled into his lap snuggly, with a wiggle. His organ was distended to such a degree, that when she opened her legs, he slid right in between them, not entering her, but cradled securely within the folds of her womanhood. Opening the drawer of his nightstand he took out a little vial of oil. “What’s that?” Curiosity got the best of her.
“Massage oil,” his voice was husky with desire.
“What are you going to massage?”
“Oh.” Her breath hitched in response.
He rubbed the oil on his hands. A little earthquake of excitement shivered up her spine. He felt the tremble, and he chuckled, as if he knew she was dying of anticipation. “I smell chocolate.”
“MMMMMMM, love chocolate,” he confirmed her comment. “No, I take that back—it used to be my favorite flavor. Now it’s number two.” Nipping her shoulder blade, he clarified, “You’re my number one flavor. But to be specific, the scent I’m about to massage into your soft skin is Chocolate Crème Brule.”
“Sounds yummy.” Actually, it did. Several places on her body were calling for a taste.
He rubbed the oil into his hands and she practically shouted hallelujah when he cupped her breasts. From this angle all she could do was lay back and enjoy. Dang! There were so many things to enjoy, she decided to count the ways. One, his chest felt glorious against her back as she slowly moved from left to right and back again. Two, those talented hands were shaping and kneading her full round mounds of flesh as if they were molding clay and he was creating a masterpiece. Third, her sex was opening like a night blooming flower, aching to be claimed and filled. “Aron, it’s too much.”
“No, it’s not.” He proceeded to love her from head to toe. Sinking his teeth into her neck, he held her still like a stallion would a mare. With his forefingers, he traced circles around her nipples—wide, concentric circles that shrunk with each lap.
“Please, please,” she begged. If he didn’t touch her nipples, she thought she just might scream. The warmth of his hands and her body combined to heat the fragrance so that the chocolate smelled like hot fudge. “Nipples, Aron, please pinch my nipples.”
“My Libby’s a little Wild-woman,” he growled approvingly. He rewarded her boldness, sending her hormones spiraling out of control. Taking both peaks between his fingers, he rolled them, arousing her to frantic heights. Twisting her head back, she blindly sought his lips. Aron feasted at her mouth, sucking on her tongue, as he manipulated her breasts into trembling mounds of passion. Her arousal became evident, flowing over him, proclaiming a desperate need for his brand of possession.
In a fever-pitch, she was totally uninhibited, abandoning all pretense of propriety. “I’ve got to have you, Aron. Please, come inside me—I’m so empty.” She wiggled her hips in supplication. “Take me, sweetheart, don’t make me wait. I need you so.” Libby was pleading, begging for his love.
Aron lifted her, his hardness seeking her heat like a moth to a flame. She opened to him, her molten core swollen and flushed a deep rose. With a moan of relief, her body stretched to receive the full length and breadth of his manhood. Almost immediately she flew apart, and he literally had to hold on tight to keep her from catapulting out of his arms. She shook, her body shuddering with intense spasms. Aron was amazed at her ability to give herself over to him, taking whatever he offered and giving him more than he ever dreamed he could demand. “Good girl.”
Her unmitigated enthusiasm was a powerful aphrodisiac. Aron became a mad man, his hips pistoning in and out of her like an out of control jack-hammer. Laying back, flat on the bed, he pulled Libby back with him. “Stay with me, Cowgirl,” he encouraged as he bent his knees to give her body something to push down against. Using her breasts as the world’s most glorious hand-holds, he moved her up and down on top of him, her back sliding up and down the full length of his torso. Wrapping a leg over each of his, she moved in rhythm with him until he bellowed his fulfillment. Shivers and jerks of pure pleasure made her whole body quiver in response to his powerful climax. They lay quietly for a time, until he coaxed her to turn over on top of him. There was something he had to say, and there was no better time than the present. “Libby, look at me.”
She was wonderfully sated, but lifted her eyes to meet his. Unable to resist, she shifted upward to place her lips softly on his. One sweet heartbeat later, she whispered, “You have made me so happy, Aron.”

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Cover Reveal ~ Bring Me Home, by Cassia Leo

Title: Bring Me Home (Shattered Hearts #3)
Author: Cassia Leo
Expected Release Date:  August 6, 2013
Genre:  New Adult Contemporary Romance
Cover reveal organized by: Shh Moms Reading
Add to your TBR list at: Goodreads

Claire Nixon is a college student with a past full of secrets and heartbreak. She was saved once by her first love, and rock star, Chris Knight. But when she encouraged Chris to leave town to pursue his dreams, both Claire and Chris didn’t realize it would be the biggest mistake of their lives.

After a devastating year apart and thousands of miles of distance between them, Claire met sexy surfer Adam Parker. With his awful jokes and profound patience, he helped Claire pick up the shattered pieces of her broken heart for the second time.

But now Chris has returned and he is willing and determined to make Claire’s dreams come true—the same way she did for him when she let him go.

With Adam’s former girlfriend in the picture, Claire finds herself torn between the new, passionate love she shares with Adam and the family she shares with Chris.

Teaser #3
Chapter Seven
“Did Eddie call you again?” She nods and the anger I felt when Senia’s cheating ex-boyfriend called her last week returns. “You don’t need to be with an asshole. You are beautiful and smart—”
“And I give a mean bj.”
“Exactly. You don’t need a guy who’ll fuck anything with legs. You deserve a guy who’ll worship you.”
“So you think Tristan’s just looking for a fuck?”
I don’t even answer because this question is ridiculous.
“Do you think Chris gave him my number? How did he get my number?”
“I don’t know, but if it was Chris, I’m going to have a talk with him about that.”
“No, don’t get mad at him. I’ll take care of Tristan. I’ll text him a picture of my bunion. He’ll never text me again.”
I try not to laugh because, sadly, I know Tristan is too persistent to be deterred by a bunion pic. I stand from the bed and make my way to the dresser where she has a picture of the two of us framed in a pink “Best Friends Forever” picture frame. It’s a picture taken last Thanksgiving when her uncle took us to his house in Carolina Beach. I was four months pregnant, so I wore a big T-shirt to hide my bulge and hardly spoke to anyone the whole weekend, afraid they’d hear the betrayal in my voice.
“I’m going to see Abigail on Monday,” I say as I pretend to be interested in the other framed pictures on her dresser.
“What? How did this happen? Oh, my god, Claire! Are you sure this is what you want?”
She leaps off the bed and rushes to my side.
I pause a moment before I look up into her eyes and respond firmly. “I need to see her, even if it’s just this once. I don’t know if I can even explain to you the ache I feel inside. It’s excruciating and it consumes me, day and night. I just want to see her.”
“You don’t think it might make it worse?”
“I don’t know, but this is not the kind of thing I want to play it safe with. This is my daughter. I’ve never seen her and I already feel like I might die without her. I just need to see her, at least once. I need to know that she’s real. I need to see this beautiful person that Chris and I created.” I pause to wipe the tears from my face. “I don’t know if you can understand that, but that’s how I feel. It’s what I need.”
She stares at me for a moment and her big brown eyes shine as if she’s hatching a devious plan inside her twisted mind. “Claire, I’ve known you long enough to know that you wouldn’t do this unless it was what’s right for you. You have some kind of weird radar for that shit. I also think that I may have misjudged Chris.”
“Are you being serious?”
“Yes, I was pissed about the fact that he never got in touch with you all those months you were living here, but I think I just realized something and I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.” She pauses as she takes a breath and steels herself to speak whatever words she’s about to say. “I think you needed Adam to show you how much you still love Chris.”
That is not at all what I expected her to say and I’m actually a little pissed. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to say that Adam was a stepping-stone.”
“No, I don’t want to hear that. Can we just go downstairs?”
She nods and hangs her head apologetically, but I’m still upset with her. I clench my jaw to keep from uttering an angry retort. Adam was not a stepping-stone.

About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Cassia Leo loves her coffee, chocolate, and margaritas with salt. When she's
not writing, she spends way too much time watching old reruns of Friends and Sex and the City. When she's not watching reruns, she's usually enjoying the California sunshine or reading--sometimes both.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Win Autographed Paperback from Laci Paige

Goodreads Book Giveaway

The Silken Edge by Laci Paige

The Silken Edge

by Laci Paige

Giveaway ends June 22, 2013.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.
Enter to win