SHADOWY PINES: a brand new paranormal MM Romance – available NOW

NEW: Behind the Iron Cross by Nicola Cameron

NEW: Behind the Iron Cross by Nicola Cameron

Gather ’round, lovelies, because I have a treat for you today!

The charming and prolific Nicola Cameron is here to tell us about her latest release: Behind the Iron Cross. I’m here to tell you I’ve been lucky enough to read it already, and you need to treat yourself to a copy. Immediately. Seriously, slide down to one of those buy links and grab it. I’ll wait.

Behind the Iron Cross is dark, erotic, sweet, and sinful – it’s a love story that will curl your toes and give you all the feels.

But why don’t I let the lady, herself, tell you about it…


Hello, and thanks so much for having me on today! While Behind the Iron Cross is my tenth romance novel to be published, it was actually the first one I ever wrote. I started it in 2012, picking at it in fits and starts while working on my other books, and finally finished it in 2018. In hindsight this is a good thing because I needed some serious novel writing chops, far more than I had in 2012, to pull this story off properly. The experience I’ve gained in the last six years is what made this book possible, and I’m very happy that it’s now available to readers.

Also, it means that my editor will stop nagging me to finish it. (Love you, Theresa!)

Behind The Iron Cross by Nicola Cameron
Available: October 21, 2018
Publisher: Belaurient Press
ISBN: 978-0-46311-821-4

In the hedonistic wonderland of Cabaret-era Berlin…

…where money can buy you anything you desire…

…and love comes with a pink rose and a practiced smile…

The year is 1923, the Great War is over, and Berlin has become the manic playground of Europe’s elite. Against a glittering background of nightclubs and hot jazz, a sensual American heiress, a wounded playboy, and a desperate German army officer forge a decadent pact of pleasure. But their nights of uninhibited passion soon lead to a forbidden emotional connection, one that will threaten their future … and their lives.

Historical Romance, Erotic Romance, MMF Ménage Romance | Word Count: 105,000 | Heat Level: 4 | Formats: ebook, print
Be warned: M/M sex, M/M/F sex, bondage, spanking, multiple partners

Price: $3.99 (sale price until 12/1: $0.99)

Read an excerpt

Where to Buy:

Barnes & Noble


Katherine Tracy took a deep drag of her cigarette, letting the smoke trickle out slowly through her nostrils. It had been a long day of business meetings with a German manufacturing company eager to repair its war-damaged finances by partnering with her Uncle William’s company, Tracy Electric. She’d done her job as the company’s duly designated representative, and now she wanted some entertainment.

Although she was starting to doubt they’d find it at the Cupid Club. “Darling, I’m bored,” she said to the handsome man sitting at her side. “I thought we were going somewhere amusing.”

Sam Harrison gave her a lazy smile. “We’ve only been here for a few minutes, sweetheart. Give the talent a chance to circulate.”

She glanced around the room, wondering if he was right. The club was dark and smoky, the dim light hiding the cherub-heavy decor and prompting the customers to focus on the stage where a redheaded singer in a long silver gown was crooning, “Just a Girl That Men Forget.” The fact that the singer was a husky contralto and her Adam’s apple could be seen under the diamanté choker she wore was part of the club’s louche charm, Kat assumed.

It was a reminder that Berlin was a world away from Bridgeport, Connecticut, in more ways than one. The aftermath of the Great War had wreaked economic havoc on Europe, and a conquered Germany was the hardest hit of the countries on the losing side. With the abdication of Kaiser Wilhelm II and an economy in ruins due to catastrophic war reparations, Germany had struggled to put together its first democratically elected government, the Weimar Republic, under the leadership of Friedrich Ebert.

By 1922, the new parliament had their hands full trying to rein in a galloping hyperinflation, all while dealing with political and military uprisings throughout the country. Staid Prussian social mores were abandoned as quaint holdovers of a bygone age, and the urban centers of the country developed a more freewheeling mindset. Berlin in particular had given up any attempts at censorship under the Republic. It was the cuckoo’s egg in the nest of the German Reich, and musicians, artists, and writers flocked there, eager to enjoy this mad new freedom. They weren’t alone; philosophers and scientists also rushed to study the fascinating social experiment that was Berlin.

That was the bright aspect of the city. On its darker side, Berlin had become a hunting ground for those with money and a taste for more sordid pleasures. Here, avid partiers could listen to the hottest jazz, indulge in their drug of choice, and have any kind of sex they craved.

Especially if it was the kind of sex that was illegal at home. As Kat finished her champagne, a handsome young waiter dressed in a brief drape of white fabric and nothing else appeared at the table. Plucking the waiting bottle from its stand, he poured more of the sparkling wine into her glass, leaning over to show off a muscled back and a firm, rounded ass. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Sam’s admiration of the fit male flesh on display.

The waiter also noticed this and made sure to brush against Sam’s arm as he sashayed away from the table. Amused, she saluted her fiancé with her glass. “He’s certainly pretty.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “And probably carrying every social disease known to mankind. Besides, I know the type. He’d run screaming the moment you pulled out the ropes.”

“Not if I gagged him first.”

“Now, sweetheart, behave.” He peered over his shoulder at the waiter, then shook his head. “Besides, I’d rather find someone like that redhead from last night. He was delicious.”

The previous night’s pet had been an impoverished aristocrat with curling auburn hair and the most charming sprinkle of freckles across his shoulder blades. After she’d trussed him up and played with him mercilessly for two hours, Sam had taken over and fucked him into exhaustion. Afterwards, the man had dropped bonelessly to his knees, begging to see both of them again.

Delicious, yes, but far too easy. She returned to her study of the club crowd, in the mood for a challenge. The bars and nightclubs they’d sampled so far offered their clientele a dizzying variety of delicacies. At the Cupid Club, for instance, there was nonstop music and singing acts on stage, lovely servitors of both sexes wearing cherub costumes, bottomless glasses of blessedly legal alcohol (and discreet silver dishes filled with crystalline white powder that could be purchased for just a bit more), and a variety of prostitutes who worked the main floor. She was particularly intrigued by the boot girls, the specialist dominatrices whose boot and lace color identified which services they offered. A customer could buy everything from collaring and asphyxiation to cropping and cross-dressing humiliation from a boot girl, if he knew the code.

Kat knew the code. Money could buy you anything in Berlin, and she had bags and bags of it. She smiled into her champagne, thinking of the cheerful young prostitute she’d paid for information. Lotte had told her about the shops that catered to her and her colleagues, and Kat’s hotel suite now housed an array of the most wonderful erotic toys. Of course, she had no idea how she would get them back to Connecticut, but she’d worry about that later.

The thought of home caused her to glance at Sam. A memory flickered through her mind of him laughing, young and carefree. And her brother Bart at his side, equally happy and young, and so in love—

Oh, stop it. Bart wouldn’t want you to be so damn maudlin.

That was true enough. And the wedding was still weeks in the future, which was some consolation. Before she walked down the aisle towards a man who was both her dearest friend and a confirmed homosexual, she had all of Berlin to enjoy. And she fully intended to do just that.

The club had grown more crowded with hectic partygoers, many of them dancing to the music played by the jazz combo that had just taken the stage. The area in front of the bar was a bit calmer; a collection of white-coated waiters, men in tailored suits, and even the occasional woman stood there, chatting or trading orders over the polished surface.

One man caught her attention. Tall and handsome, he wore the uniform of a German army officer, an Iron Cross gleaming dully at his throat. He gazed at the other customers with a blank expression that didn’t hide a sense of trepidation.

And he held a pink rose clutched to his chest. Sam had explained the flower’s meaning; at the Cupid Club, you could spot the prostitutes by the pink buds they carried. If they were holding a rose, they were for sale.

For a moment she forgot to breathe as memory and desire collided. Reinhard, kneeling at her feet in penitence. Begging for more, harder, please Maîtresse. The sweet rush of power in marking his exposed skin, making him plead for what he craved. Making him hers.

She had heard the rumors about decommissioned German army officers with no other employment skills working the clubs, selling themselves to support their families. Being the good little soldiers that they were, they would do anything they were told to do, no matter how humiliating. She had assumed the stories were mere titillation, something to amuse the victorious American tourists.

But now there was a genuine Wehrmacht army officer at the bar with a pink rose in his hand. A soldier/whore, waiting to be bought and enjoyed. And this time there was no one to march her away like a disobedient child from her heart’s craving. She could have him, this beautiful, wary veteran. All she had to do was reach out and take him.

“Darling,” she murmured, nodding at the officer.

Sam turned, eyes widening in appreciation. “Oh, well done, sweetheart. Want me to go fetch him?”

“Yes, please.”

“Be right back.” He got up and grabbed the bentwood cane hooked on the back of his seat, limping off towards the bar. Alone, Kat took another sip of champagne, lost in happy anticipation of the evening ahead.

About the Author:

Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in romance since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads



I’m happy to announce a release date for my brand new paranormal romance, SHADOWY PINES, and to reveal its gorgeous new cover (thank you, Jay Aheer!)

Coming November 28, 2018 from Evernight Publishing

When an over-educated, underemployed millennial is called home to help with the family business, he jumps at the chance to leave his crap job, crappier love life, and the city behind.

But moving to Shadowy Pines isn’t quite the idyllic life change Finn Parks imagined.

How the hell do you cope when you find out magic – actual magic – is real? Or that you also happen to come from a long line of powerful witches? And that handsome man with all the sizzle? Yeah, he might be trying to kill you.


NEW RELEASE: Golden by Allyson Young

Happy Friday, folks! It’s kind of a miserable one out there, so settle in with a toasty beverage and let me tell you about this hot new release from author Allyson Young!

Golden: The Pride of Panthers #1 by Allyson Young
Available Nov. 8, 2018

Trace da Costa is determined to unite the nomadic and unsocial panther shifters of the Americas in order to add their voice—as a pride—to that of the rest of the world’s shifters. Humans are aware shifters exist which has led to innumerable problems, especially threatening the survival of the solitary big cats.

His followers have already embraced the idea of mating and staying together to raise their cubs and when he finds his mate he must convince her of the rationale behind the change in tradition.

Aura Maas has no interest in males, aside from the occasional one night stand and even if Trace da Costa is her mate she isn’t willing to give up her lonely lifestyle, having become inured to it at an early age. She is well aware of the risks with no one to have her back and resistant to the idea of being responsible for another—especially a cub or two.

But she’s impossibly drawn to Trace and when danger strikes they make a formidable team. Not to mention how great the sex is. She agrees to commit for a month, against her better judgment because her cat has already accepted him and her human side is fighting a losing battle.

But there are other forces at work, from traditionalists to hunters and it’s only when she flees on instinct and Trace follows her that she accepts her fate. She is claimed by him—and him by her.

Read an excerpt

Where to Buy:




“Where is she?” The tension in his voice betrayed his need.

Rock Gideon spoke from the side of his mouth. “Secured in the back room.”

His gut clenched as his entire body went on alert. “What do you mean, secured?”

“Tied, wrapped, and gagged. Secured. She should be waking up from the injection right about now.”

“You drugged and secured my mate.” A stupid man might have missed the dire warning in Trace’s tone. Rock was anything but.

Easing up on his elbows, the big male shook his hair from his eyes. Trace held his stare, their beasts close to the surface. The wolf broke first and dropped his gaze for an instant. “It took five of my pack to subdue her. Shade and Blaze are still recovering—in wolf form! It was a fucking bloodbath. Without the injection, you’d still be looking for her, and how I managed to administer that is a mystery.”

Despite the damage to Rock’s people, Trace couldn’t help but feel a frisson of arrogance and satisfaction. Aura Maas was worthy of him and his pride. Not that his loosely knit group of panthers were actually a pride, but they were still connected. And he required a mate to help bind them together before their kind faded into the mist. It was his lifelong ambition and one within his grasp.

He’d outlived his parents, and his sister… Well, he hadn’t given up hope for Ariana, not yet, but most everyone else had, and it was as if he was the last of his line. And so he was determined to build a larger family, both for safety and longevity of their species.

“I apologize for your trouble and offer my regards to your pack. I’ll also increase the prize money.”

With a huff, Rock turned back to his beer. His tone was admiring, if grudging. “Whoever tames that cat will have a lifetime of—”

Whatever the wolf thought Trace would have with Aura was clearly beyond his ability to describe. Trace hid a smug smile and said, “I’ll see her now.”

“Help yourself. Just keep between her and the fucking door once you cut her free.” Rock fished a key out of his shirt pocket. “New deadbolt. And the window is barred. We’ve kept … guests before.”

The information gave him pause but for a moment. Whomever Rock kept prisoner or in a way station wasn’t his business. The alpha wolf had a reputation of being on the up and up. Regardless, he didn’t have time to ponder. His mate awaited him.

About the Author:

Allyson YoungAllyson Young aka Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in cottage country, Manitoba, Canada where she and her husband pretend to work well together in their seasonal business.

She has always enjoyed the written word, and after reading an erotic romance, quite by mistake, decided to try her hand at penning one. That was followed by a mix of spicy (Ally) and sweet (Peribeth) romances in various genres as well as a post-apocalyptic adventure without a lick of romance by Peribeth.

A bestselling Amazon author, a hybrid, and a coauthor, as of August 2018 she has published seven series and several standalones—all available on Amazon—with others in the works.

NEW RELEASE: The Ghost of Her Ex by Aletta Thorne

NEW RELEASE: The Ghost of Her Ex by Aletta Thorne

Ah, ’tis the season! The most fabulous time of the year – Halloween – is right around the corner and, in honour of the occasion, I have a sexy new ghost story to tell you about from one of my favourite people. Aletta Thorne’s The Ghost of Her Ex has ghosts, snark, foul-mouthed church musicians, and a pot dealer named Santa Claus. And did I mention the best part? The Ghost of Her Ex features a heroine who’s over 60 and 125 pounds! I mean… what else do you need?


The Ghost of Her Ex by Aletta Thorne
Available: October 21, 2018
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-77339-829-7

Just because she’s sixty-three, cynical, and a church musician, Emily Rauch is hardly done with life—or love. Now that she’s traded in her old barn of a place for a tiny house in the hills, Emily’s ready for a new start. Throw in one enormous pipe organ, two ghosts, a pot dealer named Santa Claus, the reappearance of Emily’s bad-boy college squeeze, and a blizzard … what could possibly go wrong?

Read an excerpt


Where to Buy:

Evernight Publishing



“No! You’re not old, Mrs. R! You look like you always did!”

Oh, great. So I’ve always looked like this? Without thinking about it, Emily ran her practice-weary fingers through her hair and shook her head to fluff it out a bit. “So—what’s a membership cost these days?”

She’d just finished signing the paperwork and was stowing her reading glasses in her purse when the door to the locker rooms opened. There, red-faced from steam, sauna, and a shower, wearing a black motorcycle jacket and a pair of jeans that he certainly hadn’t distressed that much himself, was none other than Brad Yates, gym bag in hand. The sparse remains of his Harpo-mop hung in wet, limp ringlets over his eyebrows.

Oh, fuck! Oh, fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

“Emily!” He slid his locker-key-on-a-rubber-band at Clara and leaned against the booth’s oak woodwork. “It’s been far too long! I kept trying to call!”

Clara’s eyebrows shot up.

“Hi, Brad,” said Emily.

I saw that piece about your new place in The Record. Looks wonderful!” His wolfish blue eyes sparkled.

Oh, fabulous. “Um, yeah…” Emily fumbled in her purse for her wallet and slid her credit card back into it.

“Mrs. Hartley, do you want to have a look at the facility? I mean, I should have asked you that before, but I’m just learning this job, I guess, and…”

“My daughter learned to swim in this pool, Clara. I know what I’m getting into. I do understand there’s a lovely new hot tub…”

“There sure is!” That was Brad.

“I’ve been practicing all afternoon, though, and my back’s killing me. Right now, I have to get home. I’ll be back soon with my swimsuit!” Emily was careful not to say just how soon.

“Allow me to walk you out,” said Brad.

And then he was beside her, smelling quite chlorine-y indeed, pink and steaming in the winter air. Emily’s car was parked a block away, up a street lined with big old houses.

“I remember your senior recital. Mendelssohn’s Sonata One! You rocked it! Played with some real guts.” Brad marched along next to her, gym bag slung over his shoulder.

Mendelssohn Sonata One. Emily mainly remembered terror. Had it gone well? Everyone had said so…

“There’s an AGO recital down at St. Thomas Fifth Avenue in about a month. Come downtown with me,” said Brad. “C’mon, we haven’t been at an organ thing together since school. It’ll be a hoot. We can…”

An organ thing. Not even going there.

They were standing in front of her car now.

“Oh, Emily, you truly haven’t changed! You still look so lovely. What luck running into you again!” Brad flung his arms open.

Why the fuck do people keep telling me I haven’t changed? Oh, great. Now he wants a hug. Bet that mean old leather jacket’d be mighty dangerous with all those big, ferocious zippers! I’m certainly not giving Brad Yates a…

But then she looked up at her old boyfriend—and was instantly caught in the patented Yates death ray. His eyes, still an icy blue, a little curious, focused intently on hers—and a major wave of not-entirely-unexpected heat washed through her. Well. Maybe just a quick little hug. I’ll avoid the zippers.

“Oh, Em,” he rumbled, and she felt his breath on her face. He put his arms around her and pulled her close—and suddenly, maddeningly, that was just fine with her. Her breath quickened and she closed her eyes. Then he was kissing her. His tongue was soft and familiar in her mouth and she was kissing him back. His hand slid down to catch the small of her back. He massaged it with strong, keyboard-player fingers, exactly where it had been hurting, and that felt—amazing. More than amazing. It pushed the ache away … and started a different, sharper ache.

Actually, it’s … kind of like the sex dreams.

That made Emily pull away, shocked that her crotch was burning. Brad Yates? What am I thinking? I’m not thinking, that’s what I’m thinking. This is ridiculous…

“Does this mean you’re going to the organ recital with me? Or should we just go back to my place?” The street lamp above them picked out a little hollow at the side of his nose where something or other had been removed. The moto jacket did nothing to disguise the fact that he was a little paunchy (now that she thought about it, he’d always been just a little round in the tummy, even in his prime boating days). His face was still flushed from the steam room—but his eyes were laser-focused on her, which made her whole body feel kind of … carbonated. It just wasn’t fair.

Cripes. What’s wrong with me? Oh hell. Why not? “How about my place?” Emily hoped she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. “Let’s go there.”

About the Author:

Aletta Thorne believes in ghosts.  In her “normal” life, she is a choral singer, a poet, a sometimes DJ, and a writer about things non-supernatural.  But she’s happiest in front of a glowing screen, giving voice to whoever it is that got her two cats all riled up at three AM.  Yes, her house is the oldest one on her street.  And of course, it’s quite seriously haunted (even scared the ghost investigator who came to check it out).  Aletta is also the author of The Chef and the Ghost of Bartholomew Addison Jenkins.

Shifter Woods: Snarl (Esposito County Shifters #3)

Shifter Woods: Snarl (Esposito County Shifters #3)

It’s been forever, but I’ve got a fantastic paranormal romance to tell you all about! It’s sexy, fun, and part of a fantastic series by the ever-scintillating Nicola M. Cameron. You can read Shifter Woods: Snarl as a standalone, but why would you when there are three (with more to come!) juicy titles in the Esposito County Shifters series for you to dive into?

But why don’t I let Nicola, herself, tell you all about it…


Hello, and thanks so much for having me on today! Shifter Woods: Snarl is the third entry in my Esposito County Shifters series and takes place a few weeks after the events of Shifter Woods: Howl and Shifter Woods: Roar. In this story, we meet disgraced wolf Alpha and ex-SEAL Jack Hawthorne, who shows up in Esposito County hoping to get a job with a former commanding officer. The last thing he expects to find is his mate … or to learn that Kate Chandler is the daughter of his former commander, has no sense of smell, and isn’t interested in being mated. Jack will need all of his SEAL endurance skills to woo and win his mate—assuming that the Alpha of Esposito County’s wolf pack lets him stay at all.

The fourth entry, Shifter Woods: Scream, will come out in late October, with plans to combine all four novellas into a box set and print version in January 2019. I also plan on doing a full-length novel set in Esposito County – not sure which couple is going to star in it yet, but I promise that everyone from the Shifter Woods novellas will make an appearance.


Shifter Woods: Snarl (Esposito County Shifters #3) by Nicola M. Cameron
Available: September 4, 2018
Publisher: Belaurient Press

Can a lone wolf woo and win his very own kitty girl, or will he get turned into cougar chow?

Jack Hawthorne is an Alpha wolf shifter and former SEAL who lost the leadership of his pack while serving his country. Kate Chandler is a cougar shifter with no sense of smell and a deep-seated distrust of fated mates. When these two are thrown together at the Cougar Ridge Ski Resort in Esposito County, NM, Jack realizes that the sharp-witted, beautiful female is his heart’s mate. But her injury means she can’t smell the truth, and her father (and Jack’s former commanding officer) has made it clear that Kate is off limits.

Now, Jack has to convince Kate that they’re meant for each other, win her father’s approval, and convince the local wolf pack to accept him. But as every SEAL knows, the only easy day was yesterday.

Read an excerpt

Where to Buy:

 Amazon CA
 Amazon UK
Amazon US
Barnes & Noble



Jack leaned closer to the bathroom mirror, wiping the condensation from it. A stranger peered back, eyes weary and hard over a thick growth of facial hair. Helluva beard, guy. You look like the Abominable Snowman.

Not that he’d had a reason to do much personal grooming since his discharge. He’d hacked off his hair with his knife when it got too long, but the beard kept his face warm when he slept outside. It was easier to find a safe place to crash in the woods or other outdoor locations, easier to find food and clean water in the towns. He shifted back and forth between the two as he slowly headed westward, remembering the promise his former commanding officer had made and praying that Chandler would made good on it.

And if he didn’t, or couldn’t…

Jack grimaced and picked up the trimmer Chandler’s daughter had left for him in the bathroom. A disposable razor and a can of shaving cream had been placed next to it. Then I’ll leave. Simple as that.

The empty spot in his soul ached at the thought. He couldn’t help prodding it, the emotional equivalent of tonguing a gap where a tooth had been extracted. It was the place where he should have felt the connection to his pack, the solid link that an Alpha always maintained with the shifters he led.

But he didn’t lead a pack anymore. He could still hear his brother Ed’s words as they stood at the edge of their father’s grave the day he’d returned, three weeks too late to say goodbye. You wanted to go off and be a hero, Jack. I stayed behind and took care of the pack, like Pa wanted. You can’t blame the pack for making me Alpha.

Grimacing, Jack switched on the trimmer and started paring down the beard, bits of dark brown and grey hair pattering into the sink with each buzzing pass. Slowly his face began to emerge, and he remembered why he’d grown the beard in the first place—to hide the painful resemblance to his brother. Alphas were usually born, not made, but a shifter with enough strength of character could step into the role if the pack supported him. And the wolf shifters of the Rugged Pines had made their decision clear. With the death of Albert Hawthorne and his designated heir off fighting terrorists at some remote location halfway around the world, they would take Ed and be happy for it.

Jack could have challenged Ed for leadership—and he would have won, they both knew it. But Ed had been Pa’s trusted beta while Jack was off serving with the SEALs and had become a competent Alpha after Pa’s death, judging by the way the pack had closed ranks around him. The clincher was that Ed had already found his mate and had a pup on the way. Even if the pack wouldn’t reject him for it, there was no way in hell Jack would fight his own brother and risk orphaning his niece/nephew.

With no room for him in the pack he’d once called home, he left North Carolina and went west, keeping to himself as he headed towards Chandler’s last known address. His retirement pay was deposited into his account regularly; that and his savings were more than enough to buy a car or RV and travel in comfort. But he didn’t want comfort. Traveling on foot to New Mexico gave him a chance to atone for not being there when Pa died.

Was Ed right? Did I want to be a hero? He hadn’t thought so. When the military team of shifters had shown up in town all those years ago, looking sharp in their uniforms and talking up the benefits of serving his country as a SEAL, it had resonated with something deep inside him. He’d been raised knowing that he would take over the pack once Pa was gone, but at the same time he’d always chafed at being locked into a small patch of land in North Carolina. Joining the Navy and going through the arduous training required for shifter SEALs had seemed like a perfect way of scratching that itch. Go out, be a soldier, see the world, then come back and take up the mantle of Pa’s beta again.

Except it hadn’t worked that way. Scratching his itch had somehow turned into a wound that cut him off from his family.

The only thing that kept him going was Chandler’s promise of help. And then he’d finally made it to Esposito County only to be picked up for vagrancy. He knew he’d been lucky that the sheriff was willing to listen to him, even agreeing to take him to the commander’s house instead of throwing him in a cell for a couple of days. But the thought of being brought in front of Chandler as a prisoner was humiliating as hell. He hadn’t even been able to look up, guilt and shame gnawing at his belly, when Lynch ordered him out of the truck.

And then the scent hit him, notes of rosemary and sandalwood combined with pure female that was absolutely irresistible. It made his mouth water and his cock stir at the same time. When he looked up into a pair of celadon green eyes, it had taken every ounce of his will to stay in place and not pull the lithe blonde female who smelled like the other half of his soul into his arms.

She’s my mate. He put down the trimmer and picked up the shaving cream, decanting a foamy blob into one hand and smoothing it over his newly trimmed stubble. Except she’s a cougar shifter. And Commander Chandler’s daughter. And she can’t smell me. Fuck my life.

About the Author:

Nicola Cameron is a married woman of a certain age who really likes writing about science fiction, fantasy, and sex. When not writing about those things, she likes to make Stuff™. And she may be rather fond of absinthe.

While possessing a healthy interest in romance since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that she decided to write about it. The skills picked up during her SF writing career transferred quite nicely to speculative romance. Her To Be Written work queue currently stands at around nineteen books, and her mojito-sodden Muse swans in from Bali every so often to add to the list, cackling to herself all the while.

Nicola plans to continue writing until she drops dead over her keyboard or makes enough money to buy a private island and hire Rory McCann as her personal trainer/masseur, whichever comes first.

Find her online:Website | Blog | Facebook Reader Group | Twitter | Goodreads | Newsletter

It’s been a long time, been a long time…*



There have been exactly zero updates here since March.

In my defense, I’ve been pretty much M.I.A. for most of 2018. Real Life™ (as my friend Nicola Cameron likes to say) has dictated I spend more time working projects that are immediately billable and so I’ve had to refocus my world somewhat.

But I’ve had a bit of a breather lately and managed to dive into some revisions I’ve been working on for  – as it turns out – the better part of nearly three years. Happily, said revisions have finally been completed and submitted to my publisher. And (drum roll, please!) I signed a contract yesterday for publication. YAY!

So there will be more news coming on that front SOON.

In the meantime:

SHADOWY PINES is a sexy, spooky, witchy romance I wrote a few years ago during NaNoWrimo. It’s undergone some major reconstructive surgery (and more than one period of complete stasis) but I’m excited to announce that it’s soon to be published by Evernight Publishing!

Until next time!


*been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely… time.
(Rock And Roll, Led Zeppelin IV)

New from Doris O’Connor: Auctioned to the Bad Boy CEO

It’s Monday and I have a guest! The lovely and talented Doris O’Connor is here to tell you about her sizzling new release, Auctioned to the Bad Boy CEO and to give you just a tiny taste to whet your appetite.


Thanks so much for having me on your blog today with my new release Auctioned to the Bad Boy CEO. Hannah and Logan are right up there in the top five favorite couples I’ve written to date, and I can only hope that the readers will love them as much as I do. One early reviewer said, “They’re perfect for each other.” I have to agree, but then I would, right. LOL

Check them out!

Auctioned to the Bad Boy CEO by Doris O’Connor
Available: February 8, 2018
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-77339-567-8

Hannah Watson has little time for romantic entanglements. After all, she hasn’t met a man yet who can beat her little battery-operated friend.

Until the new CEO arrives. Known for his ruthlessness in business, he’s also every woman’s wet dream—hers included. His temper alone should be a turn off, but her libido is not listening to reason.

Logan Bryce doesn’t tangle with his employees—ever—until curvy little Hannah makes all of him sit up and take notice. Who knew the starchy, always respectably dressed Ms. Watson had such a naughty side? Her proposal to auction off willing celebrities and suitable staff for a ‘date’ has appeal, especially with Hannah, herself, on the auction block.

The terms of the auction are clear—a twenty-four hour commitment—plenty of time to get her out of his system.

What can possibly go wrong?

[Read an excerpt]

Where to Buy:

Evernight Publishing
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Barnes & Noble


“Because you were too busy playing slap the donkey with your schlong.”

“Schlong?” Logan didn’t know whether to be amused or offended at having his cock referred to thus.

“Yes, what would you call that?”

She glanced down at said appendage and attempted to cross her arms. No doubt to hide her body’s far too obvious reaction to him. It made him even harder, eager to lose himself in her soft body and to finish with her what he’d started on his own in the shower. She accidentally grazed his cock with her arm in her attempt to hide her hard nipples from him. Like “come suck me” beacons they pushed against the satin of her gown, and made Logan’s mouth water with the need to taste them. How responsive would those little nubs be as he rolled them between his fingers, sucked them in his mouth, and bit down? Would she like that nip of pain, find it as much as a turn-on as he did, or would that be one step too far for sensible little Hannah? Not that she looked very sensible now with her dilated pupils, and the fine sheen of arousal coating her skin. Her heart beat an uneven staccato at the base of her throat, and a groan escaped her full lips when he ran his nose along that sensitive area and inhaled. Her sweet scent, made more potent by her arousal, called him to bite down, to mark her in the most primitive of ways, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t do that without her consent.  To give into his darker desires was a two-edged sword, one he couldn’t allow himself to unleash, not now, perhaps not ever again. Certainly not with someone who worked for him, and with the hearing hanging over his head, he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his success there. He owed Claudia that much.

Logan pushed those thoughts down with the same ruthlessness that had made him so successful in the corporate world. They had no business here, not with sweet little Hannah his for the taking and his being so revved up that innocent skin on skin graze of her arm on his cock was almost painful. Predictably that part of his anatomy jerked. Giving into the demands of his body, he pulled back slightly, took her hand, and wrapped her slender fingers around his shaft.

Another one of those cock-hardening moans came from the woman he was holding a not so reluctant prisoner against his bathroom wall, and he tipped her chin up with his other hand to read her expression.

“I would call that my cock, and unless you really do want me to spank that delicious, round bottom of yours, I suggest you do something to help him out.”

Her digits tightened around his shaft, and Logan swallowed his grunt of pleasure.

“Like this, Sir?”

Her whispered question and the snarky intonation she put on that title made his dominant side roar. She couldn’t know what that did to him, and soon he was past the ability to think, because the feel of her little fist sliding up and down his hard dick, the little mewls she made as though this was a huge turn-on for her, too … fuck it, he was in real danger of shooting his load right there and then, and that just wouldn’t do. He wanted to come inside her tight little pussy the first time around, before he claimed every one of her other willing holes.

Logan fisted his hand in her hair and pulling her head back growled his instructions.


He pulled Hannah’s hand off his dick and slanted his lips over hers. Her tiny yelp in response to his rough handling granted him access, and he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, while he angled her head just so. When her hands slid up his shoulders and she pushed herself against him, he lost what little restraint he had and kissed her in earnest. He tongue-fucked her, in a very good imitation of what he was aching to do with his cock, while he ground his hips into her soft belly, and, grasping a generous handful of her luscious ass, pulled her tighter into him.

Hannah did not disappoint in her response. She kissed him back with the same feverish desire that coursed through his veins. The need to fill his lungs with oxygen forced him to break the kiss, and, panting, he rested his forehead on hers.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom. I need to be in you, woman. Tell me you want that, too.”

He pulled away just enough to read her expression, and the sight of her kiss-swollen lips, her pale skin already marked by his emerging stubble was the hugest fucking turn-on so far. Still, he had to be sure she was on board with this, so he forced himself to wait for her response. When none was forthcoming, other than the sounds of her rapid breathing, he tugged her hair again, a little harder this time. Tears sprang into her azure eyes, but she also clung tighter and bit her lip.

“Don’t do that. It makes me want to bite you all over, right after I turned your backside raw for not answering me straightaway.”

If that was possible her eyes grew even wider. She whispered something that he couldn’t quite catch over the roaring of his own heartbeat in his ears.

“What was that? Speak up, little dove, or I shall take your silence as consent. After all, you did come and see me, and I warned you what would happen if you did.”

He pulled her plump bottom lip between his teeth and bit down. Hannah gasped and jerked, and he pulled back and licked that tiny drop of blood away. Her life’s essence exploded on his taste buds, made him hungry for more.

“Tell me you’re mine for tonight.”

About the Author:

Doris is a writer of sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get.  From contemporary to paranormal, Sci-fi, BDSM, M/M, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

Find her online: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Instagram | Evernight PublishingAmazon | BookStrand | Barnes&Noble

#Spotlight: One Last Hit by Maia Dylan #Suspense #MMRomance

Happy Monday! I’m here with another new release from the lovely Maia Dylan. Iis now available as part of Evernight Publishing’s Romance on the Go® line and, as always, Maia invites you to tweet her – @Maiadylanauthor – with any questions you might have and she’ll answer you asap. 🙂

One Last Hit by Maia DylanOne Last Hit by Maia Dylan
Available: February 6, 2018
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-77339-569-2

Aaron George thought he’d lost the love of his life seven years ago. Right up until he pulled back the curtain of a hospital examination room and found Marshall Armstrong tending to a bullet wound on the other side. Then the night got really strange. They found themselves getting shot at and running for their lives.

Marshall Armstrong had finally come for Aaron. He’d been working toward it from the moment he’d had to fake his own death. Now, just when he had enough money and resources to take Aaron back, Aaron’s father, Franklin George knew his son was alive and that Marshall had a few secrets of his own.

Can Marshall and Aaron get back together as they work to make this one last hit before they disappear forever, or will their shot go wide and leave them with nothing?

[Read an excerpt]

Where to Buy:

✽ Amazon AU
✽ Amazon CA
✽ Amazon UK
✽ Amazon US
✽ Evernight Publishing

One Last Hit by Maia Dylan


Aaron growled. “Maybe I’ve gotten better at lying now. I’m way more secretive than I was when you knew me. Everyone thought I was dead. I left the day of the explosion with nothing but our emergency pack. No one knew I was here living my life until recently.”

“I’ve always known where you were,” Marshall answered honestly. “You took the identity I’d had created for you, so I knew where to find you from the moment you left.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you come to me sooner?” Aaron asked in a small voice.

Marshall reached out, wanting to touch him, to ease his pain, but stopped short when Aaron flinched away from him. Not that he could blame him for the reaction at all.

“Franklin is powerful and determined to make the damn Senate. If he had known you were alive earlier, he would have killed you just to tidy up that loose end. He couldn’t have his own son coming out and telling the world what an asshole he is. Aaron, even when I knew I shouldn’t, I kept up with what you were doing. I’ve fucking stalked you from afar for years. What existed between us was real.”

Aaron’s gaze swung to him. “Really? Because I loved you with everything I had and losing you destroyed who I was. Flames were lifting into the air, and gas bottles were exploding and all I could think about was walking straight into that burning building so that I could go with you.”

Marshall’s heart broke at that. “Baby. I am so sorry I had to put you through that. But I had to get you away from Franklin and I knew you wouldn’t go without me. Franklin wasn’t going to let me go, Aaron. I was an asset he had no desire to lose. If we had run together, he would have come after us with everything he had. I knew that the only reason you would go by yourself is if you thought I was dead.”

Aaron frowned. “Why couldn’t we have just left together? If he was convinced that I died in that fire, why wouldn’t he accept it was both of us? Damn it, Marshall I managed to leave that day and no one came looking for me for seven years! I started a new life and fought for a chance to live it. Why couldn’t we have done that together?”

Marshall took a deep breath. He’d known this conversation had to happen, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon. “He was going to take you away that night, Marshall. He was going to take you from me and use you to control me. Every option I looked at to save you resulted in you being hurt or killed. I was too young, I had very little experience with everything, and I panicked. Making it look like the explosion killed you was the only option I came up with that got you away from him.”

“Why the hell did you stay?” He could hear anger in Aaron’s voice. “You could have gotten away from him at any time.”

Self-loathing threatened to drown him. “I had to make sure you remained safe. And without you, I just stopped caring about anything else. Your father claimed your life insurance, had a funeral, and publically mourned your death. And I did it all with a happy heart because I knew that you were alive and that you were free.”

“But what about you, Marshall,” Aaron asked quietly, “weren’t you worth saving, too?”

Marshall turned to look out at the road ahead. “I may have been then, but everything I have done since, what your father has turned me into, all of it makes me beyond salvation now.

Aaron made a dismissive sound. “That’s bullshit. No one is so far gone that they can’t be saved, either from my father or themselves. You’ve already said that a lot of what you have had to do over the years was at the bequest of Franklin George. It sounds to me that the fault lies with him, not you.”

“But it was me pulling the trigger all those years, Aaron, and not always at Franklin’s request,” Marshall answered, turning to give him a sad look. “It’s me that took money from your father and others to kill the people they most needed eliminated from their lives. And it’s me who has to somehow reconcile everything that I have done since I left you seven years ago so that I can sleep at night,” Marshall took a moment trying to find the words that would explain it. “You could say this is about vengeance with a strong dose of penance for me and that would be a lot closer to the truth, but it would certainly not grant me absolution.”


About the Author:

Mother, wife, author, and all around crazy…

I write the kind of books that I love to read. Love stories between strong men and their independent soulmates. Usually, their path to Happily Ever After is a bumpy one, but there is always a Happy Ever After.

In the world’s I create there is someone (or two, or three) for everyone!  Love comes in many forms and I believe it is all beautiful and should be celebrated!

I live, love and write in New Zealand, married to my husband of eleven years with two beautiful children who I truly believe were sent as a blessing, but sometimes to try my patience, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!

Social Media Links:

Publisher’s Author Page | Amazon Author Page US | Facebook | Facebook Author Page | Street Team FB Page | Goodreads | Twitter | Website | Blog | Pinterest

Guest Blogger Raven McAllan’s Darling Doc #ContempRomance

I have a special treat today – a guest! Please welcome the lovely Ravan McAllan with her latest release, Darling Doc.


Hi and a big thanks for hosting me today. I tell you, I’m all over excited, because my story, Darling Doc is out.

It’s exciting in more ways than one.

Apart from the fact that any book birthday is a great time for celebration—think fizz, chocolate, chair swivel jiggle, yee haaa’s and so on  😉 — this is doubly so.

You see, I was convinced I’d lost my hot writing gene. I thought it had danced away never to return.

And that was scary.

Luckily (after more months than I care to think about) it returned.  However, I never thought it would be with a story written in first person. That’s something new.

Does it work? That’s up to the readers to decide. *Cue nail biting*

What I can say is I had a ball writing it. From the real life bit (the water bottle), to the ohh what ifs, and getting into my heroine’s mind…it was fun all the way.

Like a lot, if not most authors, I can’t write to order. I can only write what my muse tells me. Shouts at me, demands I stop a or b and do x, y or z… or whatever.

So when it shouted, oy first person point of view, no one was more surprised tan I was.

However as I started to write the story I realised that it was the only way to write it.

Through Sandy’s eyes.

This is the result…

Darling Doc (Naughty Forties #1) by Raven McAllan
Darling Doc (Naughty Forties #1) by Raven McAllanAvailable: January 30, 2018
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-77339-563-0

This stuff only happens in romance novels…

After a chance meeting on a crowded tram, Sandy has cause to re-evaluate several things.

1, It is perfectly possible to lust after a stranger.

2, It isn’t only fictional heroines who need to carry spare panties.

3, A man’s voice really can almost make you climax in public.

4, Great sex does exist.

5, Being a doctor can complicate things.

When her chance encounter turns up in her surgery, there is only one thing for it. Grab said hunk and the sex on offer with both hands and don’t let go. Alistair isn’t a patient after all… and what two consenting adults get up to in their spare time can’t be love, or can it?

[Read an excerpt]

Where To Buy:

Evernight Publishing

Darling Doc (Naughty Forties #1) by Raven McAllan


“We aren’t patient and doctor, are we?” he asked in a somewhat serious voice.

I shook my head. What was he getting at? “No, I gave you the info about the chemist as one acquaintance to another.”

“That’s okay then. I can change acquaintance to something else.”

He tugged my hand, and taken unawares I fell forward and my boobs hit his chest with a thump.

Nipples are traitors. Mine hardened and poked into him as if they wanted to bore through to his ribs and beyond. Well, I couldn’t blame them, but this was my surgery for goodness’ sake, and even if he wasn’t a patient, it had to be unethical as … I saw stars.

He’d snuck one arm around me and pulled me so close his cock was doing the same sort of thing as my nipples. Then, he put his mouth to mine, and I was damned sure my panties were damp.

Don’t ask me how long it was before I drew breath, resurfaced, or realized my phone was making noises. I was surrounded both in mind and body by hot, aroused male, and it was fantastic.

“Honey, Doc, your arse is making strange noises, if that doesn’t sound rude.” Alistair had drawn back, and to my mortification, I swayed toward him again. Hells bells, I hope I wasn’t puckered up. That would be too much.

“My?” Surely not? Then I remembered I’d put the office phone on to divert, and my mobile in my pocket ready to head out before Sandie had interrupted my departure. “Oh shit, I bet I’m late for my next place.” I fished the offending item out of my pocket and squinted at the screen. I really must get my eyes tested. It was getting ever harder to see small print. My reading glasses were either not strong enough or too strong, and anyway the lenses were so scratched it was like viewing the world through frosted glass. Handy if I went into the gents’ by mistake (and let’s face it if I had them on, it was as likely as not) but not a lot of good elsewhere.

I managed to make out a text saying time to move.

“Right, I’d better go.” I grabbed my bag, put my shoes back on—when had I kicked those off—and did one of those half polite smiles when you’re not sure what else to do.

He grinned. Really no man should be allowed to get away with an expression like that without appearing stupid. Alistair McCrea just looked sexy.

“Not before I ask you out.”

“What?” I had to stop saying that like a twit. No one would know I had degrees and stuff or a reasonable vocabulary. “Why?”

“Because I want to get into your knickers?” He paused for what I guessed was effect and then winked. “But not tonight. Tonight I’d like to take you out for dinner, and what else I have in mind doesn’t work well on a full stomach.”

Oh shiverooney. Hot sex? Swinging from the chandelier? Sadly no chandeliers around. What else? Now my mind was in overdrive. “Look, I’m not interested in a quick sh—how’s your father. Thanks, but no thanks. I have to remember who I am.” I did my doctor knows best face. He ignored it.

Thank you. Dare I say, but anything else I’m happy to negotiate over? Maybe I’d better not.

About The Author:

If you want to check out Raven and her other books, please pop over to where you’ll find all you need!