Happily Ever After? I Think So
Wouldn’t you agree that dark stories are great and edgy stories maybe even better? Still is that what a woman is looking for when she picks up a romance novel? I don’t think so.
True, the classics almost never end happily ever after. Look at Casablanca, probably the most heart-wrenching story I’ve ever seen. I loved it. The movie Gone With The Wind came out in 1939. It’s 2011 and we all recognize the words, “ Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” We know where it came from, we know the gorgeous man who said it. But the ending isn’t what made the story a classic. It was the characters that did that.
Jayne Eyre and Pride and Prejudice are classics. Look how they ended.
Again and again, in every case, it’s not the ending, it’s the story and characters make the story.
I write fantasy, pure escapism and happy to do it. My readers know when they pick up one of my books they’ll find two people, no matter how disagreeable at first, no matter their prejudices, their fears or hatreds, we know in the end love will conquer all.
I’m the first one to admit reality has little to do with my stories. That’s exactly the point. I don’t want to read about the jerk who sleeps with every woman he can find. There are enough of those in real life. I don’t want them intruding on my pages.
Obviously, the thought of faithful love is not based on the impossible. There are men who stay faithful. There are women who love a man to the day they die. There are children who grow up happy. That’s what gives all of us hope.
Have you ever seen a bride enter into the holy state without the dream of happily ever after? Unlikely, I’m sure. Her parents may be divorced, her best friend might be pregnant, the father long gone, her sister ill with a life threatening disease, while her brother-in-law is eyeing up some blonde. It happens, but it didn’t stop her from reaching for the dream.
Who wants to read a story and finish it feeling depressed? We’re all well acquainted with the sorrows of life. There’s more than enough pain, sometimes caused by circumstance, sometimes caused by each other. It’s enough to make you think twice about bringing children into the fray.
And more often than pain there is boredom, there is loneliness, empty souls that cry for that elusive something. I don’t claim to give it to them in my writing. All I claim is to give them, even for a few minutes, Happily Ever After.
The Perfect Agent
Have You Found Him?
I know there are good agents, perhaps even great agents. The problem is I haven’t found one.
Years ago when I first started publishing, I found a local agent. Being new to the business, I foolishly listened to him, never realizing until much later what I gave up in doing so.
When I started writing, the romance field was in its infancy. My first book was accepted by Zebra. Life and the entire world were great. Silly me, I thought everything would stay like that. It didn’t. Things started to go bad when Zebra said the story needed to be lengthened. No big deal, right? Well my agent didn’t think so.
To this day I shudder to think what he did. He told Leslie Gelbman, who is currently publisher of Berkley Books, she ran a Mickey Mouse operation and we were taking the book elsewhere. Like an idiot, I had no knowledge of the publishing world and merely accepted his decision. Later I found out that Zebra had every intention of making me one of their lead writers. I’ll never get that chance again. (sigh)
So we took the book to Tower Books, who stole most of my royalties, then later sold the book for perks, vacations, etc. While they reprinted it a number of times, I made just under $500.00 total.
Enough, I’m getting off the track and growing depressed while I’m at it.
Back to agents. After selling a number of books to Pocket, I got a new agent. The first one was mostly interested in movie deals and told me I’d never make any money writing this junk. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you one problem with agents. When they represent you, they feel it’s like a marriage. When you leave them it’s like getting divorced. Very nasty affair.
So on to the new agent. This one liked to keep my check for 7 to 9 days. “Just to make sure the check from the publishing company cleared,” she said. There were times when I was desperate but I couldn’t get her to let it go. Finally she offered, well if you need it that bad, I could advance you part of it. (She’ll advance me my own money. How very nice of her.)
I did need it. I called and because the agent wasn’t in at the time, I spoke to her assistant, which she had told me it was fine to do. I asked her to tell the agent I needed an advance on my money.
I got a call back. Her assistant is crying. I was so nasty. What? What?!!! That was a shock to me. Well, one thing led to another and we argued and by the time I hung up, she was no longer my agent.
Are you finding a pattern of sorts here?
The next agent was a nice guy, but a moron. He worked mostly for the publishing company and got me the smallest advances known to mankind. So eventually he was history.
Now we come to the last agent. Very high powered big shot, razzle-dazzle, NY agent. Did I tell you the publisher sends your check to the agent? She or he takes their 15 percent and sends the balance to you. Only she didn’t. She stole the whole thing. It was just over $5000.00. You get the statement from the company, the agent gets the check. This way you know exactly how much they stole. And then what happens? She died!
Oh poor thing. (Sarcasm here). By the way, I swear I didn’t do it.
So she couldn’t send me a check and whoever was left in charge of her business never sent it either. I had to hire a lawyer and sue her estate. I got half of it. And the lawyer took one third of that. In the meantime, the IRS taxed me on the full amount, they couldn’t care less if it was stolen or not. I made it. It was taxable income period!
So when we talk about agents you might think I’m a bit prejudiced. Still without one it’s nearly impossible to sell to the big publishing houses.
Lately I’ve found if you contact an agent and they aren’t interested in you, they very simply don’t respond. After all, we wouldn’t want their little fingers to get hurt while sending you a rejection email. (Sarcasm again) Many don’t tell you they won’t respond so you wait for months for nothing. God, what am I doing in this freaking, aggravating business? I figure there’s a special place in heaven for those considerate folks. Hopefully, right next to my last agent.
There’s no end to this story. Apparently I’m hooked on frustration, endless waiting and heartache because I’m still looking for the perfect agent.
Trinity BlacioInfinite FantasiesPages Take Me Away!
Who is Patricia Pellicane?
Please welcome Patricia. Today she is here to tell us a little bit about herself and her new release.
1. First lets start off with you telling us a little about yourself.
Well, I could start off with my standard bio, but I’m getting tired of it and can only assume others have to feel the same. I’m not a very exciting person, although some folks think I am. Believe me I haven’t a clue why.
Pretty much I’m comfortable in my own skin, since this is the one I’m stuck with, and I haven’t much of a choice, I figure that’s a good thing.
I married a year out of high school. Fifty years ago. Still with the same man. Had seven children, so far have fifteen grandchildren, probably one more to go. Everyone lives within a town or so of my house, so we see each other often.
I work steadily on keeping a good attitude as I age. Cantankerous and crotchety people are so unbecoming, don’t you think?
Still there are a few things that get me riled. I suppose you might call them my pet peeves. One is, BUY AMERICAN. Can I say it clearer? With thousands out of work, how dare anyone of us choose a foreign product over one made in America? And the second is driving 20 miles an hour in a school zone. This one makes me crazy. When I slow down people beep at me and zoom past the first chance they get. Every day I’d say, “Where is a cop when you need one?” Until the day a cop was one of those zooming by.
Yeah, I called the precinct. No, I don’t expect anything to come of it, but it made me feel better. Is that crotchety do you think?
2. How long have you been writing?
About twenty years, with a eight year break in between. I had to work for medical coverage at our friendly neighborhood electric company. I love to say friendly electric company because I enjoy an oxymoron.
Probably ridiculous of me but I’m still waiting for that big break. Obviously an eternal optimistic.
3. What’s your favorite genre to write and read?
I love romance. The juicer and hotter the better.
4. I see you now review books have you come across any you didn’t enjoy?
I don’t enjoy shifters or vampires all that much and don’t review them often. Of course all of it is fantasy, but I think those push the envelope a bit. Just my personal opinion. I know some people love them.
5. How long does it take you to write a story?
Short stories take a little over a month. A novel closer to a year.
6. Where do your ideas come from?
Everything. Sometimes it’s part of a conversation, a word. Once a little girl’s name, but mostly ideas come when washing dishes. Could anything be more boring? My mind travels to far off places every time.
7. If you could be one author who would it be?
That’s a hard one. I love Steven King, not for his horror, but for his sense of humor. And then there’s Sandra Brown. She writes some hot stuff. James Patterson. Most of his stuff is crisp, clean and excellent. I don’t think I can name just one.
8. If you had to choose one place to live for the rest of your life where would it be? Probably New Orleans. I love that city. And New York of course, for the museums and shows and restaurants. Okay, I talked myself into it. New York. But there is San Francisco and the sea food. As you can see once I make up my mind you can’t sway me. LOL
9. Tell us where to find you?
email@example.com also my website www.patriciapellicane.com/
10. Where do you want you’re writing to go?
I strive to be the best I can be, which is why I read voraciously always searching for words, which I keep a list of to maybe use one day. Plus I rewrite a number of times before I’m comfortable with what I see. Writing to me is like poetry or music. It may not rhyme and of course it shouldn’t, but it has to flow smoothly like a song and when an odd word or phrase sticks out it knocks you out of the harmony, it destroys the rhythm and pulls you from the fantasy.
I’d like to one day be one of the best in my field.
11. I see you are published at Freya’s Bower as I am. Tell me what would you tell an author about FB if they were submitting to them?
I’d tell them the editors are wonderful, the publisher, always there to help promote, but they are sticklers for perfection in the mechanics of writing. Of course that is to everyone’s benefit as the finished products are really first class.
12. Is writing your only job?
Yes, thank God. I tried writing while keeping a full time job and couldn’t do it. I have to hand it to anyone who can. Where do you get your energy?
13. What is your favorite movie?
Casablanca, Gone with the Wind, The Notebook, Pride and Prejudice, see where I’m going here?
14. Do you have a new release coming out?
In May ‘Tell Me You Love Me’, a full length novel. It’s an historical set in 1800 England. It has the most beautiful cover.
15. If so tell us a little bit about it.
The story is about a serial murderer and of course a young lady who falls in love with gorgeous man who has some serious secrets.
16. Any future stories you can tell us about?
I have a short story for Total-e-bound, ‘Temptation’. Very hot. Contemporary romance with an old boyfriend that’s bound to give the lovers a bit of trouble. That will be out in July. Also in July a little longer story, ‘Heat Wave’, the second of a three book series for Resplendence. Western, set in 1866, Yuma, Arizona.
17. One last question. If you could give at least one piece of advice to a new author what would it be?
I’d tell them the road is long and terribly uneven, filled with extreme highs and desperate lows, but once bitten by the writing bug, nothing else is going to satisfy. And whether you make it big or not, the trip is part of the deal. So I’d say enjoy the ride and never, under any circumstances, ever give up.
Thank you so much for being here and I can’t wait to read your new story.
TEB AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT
All about Patricia Pellicane
Patricia Pellicane lives with her husband on Long Island in New York. Her six children live in neighboring towns as do most of her fifteen grandchildren. Her favorite hobby is reading. Patricia insists her ideas for stories come while doing dishes. “Could anything be more boring? It’s nearly impossible to keep your mind from wandering.”
I started writing in my early thirties. I never imagined writing as a career before that. I was thinking about going back to school for accounting. I was hooked on romances at the time. After reading a particularly awful one, I thought, “Even I could do better than that.” “I tried it. I got 26 rejections which, thick-head that I am, only made me more determined. The book never got published but I was bitten by the bug and the second one did.”
In a recent interview she was asked. How hard or easy is it for you to write? Patricia returned with, “Someone once wrote. ‘Writing is easy. All you have to do is put a sheet of paper in a typewriter and stare at it until blood forms on your forehead’. Sometimes writing is exactly like that. And other times it’s a wondrous happening where words flow from mind to fingers to computer screen almost without conscious thought. It doesn’t matter which way it works for you. Once a writer begins the journey, they’re hooked. It’s a drug and you can stop looking for that next story, that next high.”
How Patricia got into Erotic Romance
How you got into write ER and why
Why? That a question any writer can answer. I write because I’m only half alive if I don’t. I write because except for having children I’ll never do anything as rewarding as creating a character, watching it come alive on paper or screen. I write because I can’t stop. Because everyday I get up I think about writing and am anxious to sit at my computer. I write because every night I go to bed thinking about what I’m going to write the next day.
How did I get into ER?
I’ve always written romance. Those romances, mostly historical, were especially hot, but not erotic, or so I thought. My editor for Zebra books, Lesley Weiss, once advised that I should write erotic romances. When I told her I didn’t know how, she told me “You’re already doing it.”
So after returning to the publishing world, (I took a hiatus of eight years in order to gain medical coverage for my family and I just didn’t have the strength to write after a nine hour day listening to customers, at our friendly electric company, curse at me because their electric bills were too high. Lord, that was a horror. By the way, I really give a lot of credit to those can keep a full time job and write.) Where was I? Right, back to writing. I was totally out of the business. Mostly all contacts were gone. Did I want to wait years to start over again? I decided I did not. So I turned to erotica to see if there were openings and was delighted to find there were. I got two offers on my first book. One from Cobblestone and the other from TEB. I took TEB’s offer.
What are you up to at the moment – tell your fans all about your projects. Book signings and news – where can your fans see you in the coming months – any signings, events, conventions, book conferences – even virtual tours. Set ‘em up and provide the information for your fans to follow.
At the moment I’m starting my third book for a contract with Resplendence. Also have promised another to TEB by mid May. So far I’m contracted to have nine books released this year. I’ll probably do a convention next year. Can’t find the time right now.
What Patricia likes to read…
Who are your fave authors/books
My favorite authors are Steven King, not for the horror, but for his sense of humor. The guy cracks my up. James Patterson’s, quick, crisp writing. Sandra Brown’s deliciously hot stories. Nora Roberts, Jonathan Kellerman, Robin Cook, Karen Robards, Janet Evanovich, the list goes on. When I first began writing, Kathleen Woodiwiss was my favorite writer. Her book ‘Shanna’ was my all time favorite. I was delighted to have my book, ‘Deceptions of the Heart’ once compared to her writing style. Big compliment!
The Sensible Questions:
1. How have your life experiences affected your writing?
I can’t say everything I write comes from a personal life experience. But one story did. My husband’s cousin was widowed and after the funeral was going through her husband’s locker at his job. In the locker she found a half dozen bank books where he squirreled away money, while he forced her to clip coupons or go without. So began my story for the Lucky in Love Zebra series.
Sometimes an idea for a story comes from a word spoken here or there. Possibly part of a conversation overheard. Once it was a name. The little girl’s name was Charis. I loved it and wrote a story with Charis as the heroine. Mostly I get ideas from doing dishes or cleaning out the fridge. These jobs are so boring it sets my mind to wandering and most of my stories come about that way.
2. Which of your characters is your favourite, and why?
That’s easy. Lizzy Mathews in ‘Captivated’. I wrote that for Avon under the name of Colleen Corbet. This lady was so snotty to the hero, I laughed most of the way through it. She hated the aristocracy. The hero was of course a lord of the realm. She called him anything but. I love a strong heroine. I received RT’s nomination for Lifetime Achievement Award for that one.
3. What heat level do you enjoy writing most, and why?
I enjoy writing hot love stories. Extremely hot, although I always find writing them to be like a dance and choreographing a dance is a hard job. You have to make sure a leg doesn’t get left wrapped around some guy’s neck after she walks away or she doesn’t drop three shoes to the floor.
Why? Probably because that’s what I like to read.
4. What authors have influenced you most (not necessarily in
the romance genre)?
“I think Kathlees Woodiwiss, Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte’ influenced me the most. I read Shanna a half dozen times. Once because it was hot, and again because it was hot, once because I was studying her style, once for the dialogue and so on. I can’t count the many times I’ve read Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice.
5. Which comes to you first when you write, the basic premise of the plot, or the characters?
One always influences the other. Sometimes a character, but mostly a very small part of a plot. A woman is riding a horse. A man jumps on said horse and kidnaps her. Not because he wants her, because he wants her horse. I can actually see it happening. Then comes the questions that fill in and make the thought a story. Why? Where are they? When?
6. What is the biggest lesson that you've learned since you
Never, under any circumstances, give up.
7. Describe your writing space.
My house is quite large although it doesn’t have the right kind of room. For instance my living room is 26 feet long but half of it is useless because it’s a walk through. So I set my office up there. Plenty of room, of which I only use a small part. Computer in front of me, huge desk to the right, table loaded with reference books and papers to the left.
Here are a few pictures:
Photo's – yes, you don’t get away without putting SOMETHING up! We’d like pics but it could be something more abstract if you prefer. Provide any pics that you want your fans to see - whether they are personal or just pics of ‘hotties’ or places that you love.
The Naughty Questions:
1 How many toys do you have in your toy-box? (and we don’t mean Barbie dolls!)
Please! You’re talking to a grandmother. LOL. I always thought that was why God made batteries. Was I wrong?
2 What or who does your ideal man look like? (you can add pics *pant, pant*)
Years ago it was Robert Redford. Then came Pierce Brosnan. I like some body hair. And Mel Gibson, like an accent, a good sense of humor is a turn on. But as I get older the men seem to get younger. God, I’m a dirty old lady. How about Gerard Butler? He’s hot. I like a man who is earthy and rugged rather than a Brad Pitt sort of pretty.
3 Are any of the sexy scenes in your books based on real life?
I ain’t sayin’ nothin’
4 What kind of clothing do you like to wear in order to feel sexy?
5 A silk robe. Marilyn Monroe once said the only thing she likes on when she sleeps is the radio. I kind of agree.
6 What kind of clothing do you think makes men look sexy?
7 A lot of things. If he’d got the legs for it, cut off jeans and tee shirt. A tux, a suit. If he’s got the butt for it, a tight pair of jeans. The guy on the cover of Sophie’s Pleasure is raging hot and would look good in anything or nothing at all.
8 What is the most outrageously naughty thing you've ever done?
All right, I’ll tell you if you promise not to tell anyone.
When I first heard this question, I thought, what the heck, I’m so boring, I’m going to have to make something up. I’m a writer, I can do that. Right? I racked my brain. What have I ever done? Who me naughty? I taught religious instructions for six years led a Brownie troop for five years. What could I have done? And then I remembered.
Oh yeah……The Sex Tape!
That’s right Get over yourself Paris Hilton. Been there, done that, before you were born.
Okay, so what happened was, my husband and I bought a camcorder. So what do you do with a camcorder besides taking pictures of your kids at Christmas and birthdays? You record sex, what do you think?
So my husband sets up the tripod and we go for it. It’s all great fun. Especially since we had a bed that had mirrors on the ceiling…ah…forget I said that.
So we watch the video when we’re done. It’s good. I could lose a few pounds but, it’s good.
Now this is my husband’s first and greatest toy. He loves that stupid thing. Takes pictures of everything from me with no make-up to the kitchen table to miniature orange trees on our patio. We lived in Florida at the time.
And he shows these pictures to everyone.
Guess what happened.
No, thank God, not that, but almost.
He’s showing the video of my grandchildren, it’s still in the camera. It’s a Christmas video. He’s showing it to my son-in-law. We’re all talking while Frank is watching it. Later, when everyone went home, my honey comes into the den and says, “I taped Christmas over our video.” Oh my God! Our video!! That can only mean one thing!!! I started to shake. He showed it to Frank. NOOOOO!
After I calmed down I realized he didn’t rewind that far. I watched Frank watch the Christmas video. There was no way he wouldn’t have looked at me with shock if he’d seen me posed the way I was posed. Which you’re better off not knowing, so don’t ask.
Needless to say this video with my grandchildren’s first Christmas no longer exists. My nerves will never be the same. Thoughts of camcorders and Florida will never be the same. I still can’t look at a video from Florida without breaking into a sweat while imagining that one particular scene will suddenly, miraculously appear, even though I fried the damn thing in my barbeque. I still think it somehow might happen. Naughty enough?
NAME Releases (these should be TEB releases – 3 books only that will feature a blurb and excerpt. The remaining TEB books will go in the backlist with any back catalogue from any other publishers. Copy the formula below 3 times as you need to)
Title To Save Emmy
Genre erotic historical romance
Link to the product page www.totalebound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=700
She wanted the one thing he couldn't give.
It was only a favor, after all, but Nick couldn't believe his best friend could ask him for that.
Lady Emily Redford has asked her best friend for pointers on how to make love. He is astonished at the request. Why ask him? She is recently widowed. Why doesn't she know?
Emily explains she is about to take on a completely new lifestyle. She will be taking lovers. Horrified, he asks why not simply marry again? Only Emmy isn't interested in the holy state. Nick is aghast upon realising not only is she about to take lovers but her first is the worst rake in all of London.
Nick cannot allow it. He must save her from herself, but who will save him?
(send us the jpg picture separately)
What the reviewers are saying
Add a couple of your best reviews here
No reviews so far. This one only came out February 15th 2010
And my best review wasn’t a review but a fan letter. It was so good I have to show it to you.
I'M WRITING THIS BECAUSE I RECOGNIZED THIS AUTHOR. SHE IS BY FAR ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS I'VE EVER READ.
BACK IN THE EARLY DAYS OF READING HISTORICAL ROMANCES SHE WAS MY ALL TIME FAVORITE.
IF THIS IS THE GIFTED WRITER OF ALL THOSE HISTORICALS I USED TO READ. I HAVE JUST ONE THING TO SAY..............
I'M SO GLAD TO SEE YOUR NAME ONCE AGAIN. I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE RELEASE OF THIS BOOK.
KAREN ROMANCE READER
P. S. I STILL HAVE ALL OF YOUR GREAT BOOKS.
Could this be happening? He’d tried so hard to ignore his attraction, struggled for
years, wanted her forever. And never had he dared believe the possibility of kissing her,
really kissing her, of having her.
God, could it be true? Could it be she felt the same?
He gathered her closer, all his yearning hard muscle against her softness. His mind
swam with the deliciousness of her. His hands held her tightly against him. Even as he
shivered, he knew it wasn’t enough. Gently, his hands skimmed over her back, drifting down
lower, lower until he slid them under her ass, pulling her, lifting her so their hips might
meet. He felt the warmth of her through her clothes. How hot was this woman that he could
feel that heat through the many layers of skirt and petticoats? God, he had to know the taste,
feel and smell of her. He reached between her thighs and lifted her so their mouths grew
even. He wanted to feel her against him. He wanted to feel her more than he’d ever wanted
anything in his life.
His body pressed hers hard against the wall, holding her in place with his hips as his
mouth ravished hers. And muttering a sound of displeasure as if it was against his will and
he was forced to stop, he tore his mouth from her heat and raised her higher.
Her breasts, white, gorgeously round and full were bare to his delight, and she gasped
her surprise and groaned in equal pleasure as his mouth suddenly sucked a soft pink nipple
deep into a furnace of blazing heat.
His hands gathered her soft flesh together so his mouth could easily sample one then
other, biting, licking, sucking back and forth until madness threatened. Her nipples ached
and she only wanted more of the pain.
“Harder,” she murmured. “Oh God, harder please.” She couldn’t bear another minute
of it, yet she never wanted him to stop. Her eyes closed, and her breath hissed between her
teeth as her back arched in silent invitation. “Nicky, oh God, Nicky.”
It wasn’t enough, this meagre tasting of a woman who’d dared to fill his mind, his
senses with aching enticement. He hadn’t the will but to accede to her siren’s call. His need
for her was suddenly, desperately, overpowering. Later, he’d wonder how he’d managed to keep what little sense he had and not take her in a haze of sexual madness, sprawled upon
the drawing room floor.
At her lips again, he couldn’t get enough. How had a mouth grown this soft, this sweet,
and this delicious? How had he not been conscious of the fact? How had a woman come to
smell like this, taste like this? Now that he’d touched her, he thought he might never stop. All
he could think was he had to have more.
Without thought, his hand slid up the length of her leg, under her dress, over silk
stockings and bare thigh, and inside the wide leg of her drawers. He wouldn’t be denied. He
had to know her, touch her and taste her. Together, they groaned as his fingers slid over the
silky smooth skin above her stocking. Her heartbeat tripled, and his gasping came loud to
her ears. There was no tentative touching here, the need to know her, the need to have him
know her, was raw, aching and beyond all-consuming.
Her cry was muffled against his mouth as his fingers slid through her lush protective
curls and, at last, into her pussy. He groaned his pleasure at the blazing heat of her.
His mind swam. Hot, wet. God, he’d thought touching her would be enough, but it
wasn’t. He had to taste her. “I need…” he groaned into her mouth. “Jesus, I need this.”
Emmy was beyond thought, beyond the ability to understand his mutterings. All she
knew was his touch and the wild pounding of her blood. She couldn’t breathe and thought it
would never matter less. She didn’t need air. She needed this, his touch, his kiss. He couldn’t
stop. He couldn’t ever be allowed to stop. She’d waited forever to know this pleasure.
A soft cry escaped her lips as he pulled his hand away from her warmth.
“No,” she moaned into the heat of his mouth. “Don’t stop.” She didn’t want him to
stop. He had to touch her. She’d die if he stopped touching her.
Then his fingers, wet with her juices, were at her mouth and his. In her mouth, he
painted her lips, her tongue with her own sweet cream and licked the last of it as his fingers
were sucked into his own mouth. He was desperate to know all he could of her haunting
scent, her luscious taste. God, he’d never known a woman could taste this good.
The sound of a doorbell ringing and a shrill feminine laugh shocked him from this
wildly erotic moment.
He blinked, once twice then gave a slight shake of his head as if trying to clear a dazed
mind, trying to pull himself from the fog of overwhelming passion. His eyes were wide with
surprise, his body trembling, gasping for every breath. He moved suddenly, sharply away,
only to quickly return to steady her trembling form. What the hell? He cleared his throat and
put a finger inside his cravat, loosening the fabric a bit, the gesture telling clearly his shock,
while his gaze filled with confusion. “Christ, Emmy!” he gasped unable to catch his breath.
Clearly puzzled, he croaked out, “What the hell was that?”
Title Sophie’s Pleasure
Genre erotic contemporary romance
Link to the product page www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID+&P_ID=669
With her psychic abilities, Sophie occasionally helps out the police on cases that appear to dead end. Joe Palermo is a Suffolk County detective and Sophie’s brother-in-law’s partner. Sophie and Joe dated briefly when she was a teenager. Joe, upon seeing her again, is very interested in taking up where he once left off. He can’t imagine why he let a woman who looks like her get away.
Sophie is adamant and tells him straight out, she wants no relationship with him. Still a woman doesn’t have to have a relationship to sleep with a man, does she? She was too young the first time around, but Sophie is a woman now. A woman who knows exactly what she wants.
(send us the jpg picture separately)
Do you like this?” he asked as his fingers gently
twisted her nipples.
She moaned her pleasure. “Is the Pope Catholic?”
He grinned at her response. “I think I like you Sophie Russo.”
“That’s good to know.”
“You know, I was a little shocked when you took off your top.”
“Were you? You didn’t expect to have sex with our clothes on, did you?”
“No. I’m not sure what I expected.”
“For one thing, you didn’t expect a good spaghetti sauce.”
He grinned. “Among other things.”
“But you’re happy I did?”
“I couldn’t be happier.”
“Me too. I love the way you’re touching me.”
“Especially when you play with my nipples.”
He smiled as she ran her hands over his chest and paid some attention to his. She felt
his shudder. “Don’t touch me,” he said. “I want to play a little before we start anything else.”
Sophie leant back, her elbows on her table behind her as she allowed both of them this
“You know what I’d like?” he asked.
“Dessert?” she returned, her grin purely wicked.
“I thought this was dessert.”
She smiled, delighting in his touch, wishing he’d never stop. “What?”
“I’d love it if you sat on your table.”
“Really? Now? Without clothes?”
“It’s best without clothes.”
She made a low sound deep in her throat. “That sounds interesting.”
“I can promise you, you’ll find it very interesting.”
He helped her on to the table and guided her hips to the edge. “But we still haven’t
“The problem with kissing is, once we start we probably won’t be able to stop.”
He scooted his chair closer. “Put your legs on my shoulders.”
“Oh boy,” she said in breathless anticipation.
He grinned. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I like the way you think.”
He smiled. “Do you have any idea how beautiful your pussy is?”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“Like the rest of you, it’s perfect. Lean back just a little, so I can reach all of you.”
Sophie did as he asked and groaned her pleasure as his tongue slipped between her lips
and licked her until nothing but pleasure filled her world.
His tongue was so hot. She couldn’t seem to stop moaning. Every touch of his tongue,
his chin, his nose took her further into the ecstasy. She floated somewhere above the earth in
a place where only pleasure exited.
There wasn’t a doubt that she loved every thing he was doing. Still he needed to hear
her say it. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, his words slightly muffled, for he never
bothered to move away from her as he spoke.
“Oh God,” she moaned again as his words dragged her back from the edge of delirium.
And after a few seconds of silence, she said, “I’m thinking that you shouldn’t end a sentence
with a preposition.”
Title The Best Present Ever
Genre erotic historical romance
Link to the product page www.totalebound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=654
He'd do anything for her, even if it took the magic of Christmas.
Elizabeth Pennyworth has come to town to teach, only to find the schoolhouse and her living quarters in shambles. The mayor hired her through the mail, so she goes to the mayor to find a solution to her problem. How can she teach the children their lessons?
Zachary Bond is delighted to find the newest and by far the prettiest of Fancy's girls in his office and doesn't hesitate to sample this delightful piece. That she acts like a lady only further intrigues him. A bit too late he discovers her true identity. He is determined she will soon belong to him...Zachary has lessons of his own to teach.
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What the reviewers are saying
Review from Night Owl Reviews
Reviewed by Chris
This was a sweet but steamy read...With a little drama thrown in this was a romantic read I would recommend to anyone.
Read the full review at
He shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t think of anything but how you taste.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk about that.” She came to her feet and brushed invisible
crumbs from her shirt and skirt. “It’s late. I’d best be getting back to—”
“The thing is I wanted to apologise.”
“Really?” Lizzie’s head came up. Her blue gaze clashed with his. She stopped all
movement, her heart pounded. She couldn’t have known greater surprise.
“It’s not that I’m sorry it happened.”
Lizzie took a deep breath, her heart pounding even harder as she backed up two steps
and heard herself sigh, “Oh dear.”
“I’m only sorry it happened so soon.”
She took another a step back and repeated weakly, “It’s terribly late.”
He was on his feet, following her as she moved backward, deeper into the room, farther
from the light. “I know. We should go, but first, I thought I could kiss you.”
“No.” Lizzie’s heartbeat turned to thunder. Idly, she wondered how it could pound like
that without causing serious damage. She shook her head. “I don’t want this.”
“I know, and I promised myself I wouldn’t, and I thought I could keep that promise,
but you’re so damn appealing with paint smeared over your cheek and your hair peeking
from that kerchief, curling around your face. And it is only one kiss.” He took another step,
backing her to the wall.
She murmured a trembling, “Please.” She couldn’t allow this. She was all too aware of
what had happened the last time he’d kissed her and was terrified, knowing without a doubt
it would happen again.
He soothed with, “Don’t be afraid. I swear nothing will happen. Nothing you don’t
“One kiss?” she asked hopefully.
He grinned, for it was obvious she was going to allow at least that much. With a
devilish gleam in his eyes, he deliberately took her question as a plea for more. “Well, if you
want more than one, I suppose I could be persuaded to accommodate a lady.”
Lizzie laughed, realising his attempt at levity and the effort he made to ease her tension.
“Just one,” she managed, “and only because you insist.”
He nodded his agreement. “Yes, ma’am.” He sent a nod over his shoulder and offered,
“We should sit on the quilt.”
“We’ll stand,” she said as primly and confidently as she was able.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said again as he moved closer, his teeth biting his lower lip, catching
his need to laugh.
“Think you’re irresistible, don’t you?” she returned without thinking as she watched his
grin and his laughing, teasing gaze.
Zack’s gaze widened. His look told clearly he’d never imagined such a thing but was
mighty pleased the thought had occurred to her and she was apparently taking some to the
notion. “I think the question is do you think so?”
She lied outright. “If you must know, Mr. Bond, I think you are easily the most
resistible man I’ve ever met.”
He smiled and soothed her obvious trepidation with, “And I think you’re one fine
looking lady, Miss Pennyworth. Were all the men in Peachtree, Georgia, blind? How did they
let someone like you escape them?”
Lizzie ignored his question. In truth, she barely heard it for he was close, so close she
could smell the scent of his skin, the clean, warmth of his breath. “One kiss,” she reminded
weakly, his mouth a hairs-breadth from hers.
“Just one, sweetheart.” Then his lips touched hers, and he murmured against her
mouth, “All right, perhaps two. But no more than three. Three will have to be your limit.”
A Holiday at My House.
Well, another holiday has come and gone. In my family we celebrate Easter as we do any religious holiday with Mass on Sunday morning, while the roast is in the oven, perfuming the air with garlic and cooking pork. Easter is fresh pork, (Mm, delicious) Turkey is Thanksgiving, Shrimp Scampi is New Years Day.
On Easter, Mass is followed by a huge and gluttonous meal a few hours later, a meal which lasts anywhere from one to two hours and is then followed by desserts.
This year the house bulged with 13 grandchildren, plus one boyfriend and 16 adults. Two invited guests chickened out at the last minute. I can’t say as I blame them. Sometimes the confusion and noise is a bit much for a stranger to take.
Even though my house is large, it’s not large enough to string together three full size tables. And that’s too bad, because conversation among us is entertaining to say the least. But we need three tables and can fit only two, so we split up. The children eat while the adults wait their turn.
The scene I described is not for the faint of heart. We are a mix of Italian and German. We are loud. I mean very loud. I feel sorry for the newer additions to the family, be they in-laws or babies. (Two baby girls this year and I might say they are adorable.) Babies add to the noise level in their own distinct way. Forget it if you have a headache. If that’s the case, you just need to go home. Most, outside the family, who are invited suddenly find somewhere else to go. I think they’re afraid. I can’t say as I blame them. Sometimes, I’m afraid.
This year we had fresh pork, a staple for our Easters, plus a huge candied pork roast and two turkey breasts. You might say we’re big eaters, but that’s only the meat portion.
Along with the meat, two tables are soon covered with trays of stuffed shells, sauce and meatballs, sauerkraut, (Fried in olive oil and onions, mm delicious) apple sauce, escarole, stuffing, stuffed mushrooms, candied sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, twice baked potatoes, cranberry sauce, corn, peas and carrots, string bean casserole and gravy, plus I made six dozen biscuits. One dozen left over. I got the recipe from Red Lobster Biscuits on line. It’s great.
Under any circumstances, this is a lot of food. (I have to say my kids help me out here. One made the candied roast pork, one the stuffed mushrooms, another the string bean casserole another the potatoes, and all bring dessert, wine and drinks.) Still, by the time all is ready, sweat is pouring into my eyes and I’m ready for bed and I haven’t eaten anything yet.
This year we only had a tray of shells left over and just enough meat for my husband and myself to share for one meal.
Every year I say we’ve got to do something different, but we never do. The only thing different might be to add another favorite dish of some sort.
Every year I say the work is too much. Maybe one of these days I’ll go away on vacation on a holiday. Only I know I never will. I don’t want to miss anything. Despite the hard work and occasional bickering, there’s much laughter, hysterical teasing, great stories along with food that is plentiful and delicious. The wine is good, the company even better and hard work and all, I really love every minute of it.
True Love? Romantic? Really?
Let me tell you what I think.
There aren’t many things in life that compare to the near insanity that overcomes us when we fall in love. Hormones, chemicals in the brain, scientists can tell us why we feel as we do. Still they can’t explain why with that one particular person and not another. And it doesn’t matter. All that does matter is when might you see him again, will he call, does he feel the same? Has anyone ever smelled like him, kissed like him?
Those of us who were lucky enough to know this thrilling time, also know that crazy romantic love doesn’t last. And thank God for that. How long would we last if crazy love did?
So here we are, Valentine’s Day again. Can we say we’re sorry? Happy? Granted, your honey might have taken you out to dinner, (Remember prices are higher in restaurants on Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, etc.) bought you flowers or candy. He might have gone the whole route, but again, for only one day?
Not good enough.
I want a little every day. I want flowers just because it’s Tuesday and for no other reason than that he loves me, saw the flowers and thought of me.
It’s been a long time since I’ve known crazy love, but that’s good. When it was gone, steady love came to take its place.
Yes, it sounds a bit boring, but trust me, it’s not. All right, so he won’t grab you, the minute he enters the house, tear off your clothes and have wild, hot sex with you against the living room wall. Not all the time anyway. Still there’s a lot to be said for steady love. This kind of love lasts as long as you want it to last.
But is it romantic? It certainly can be.
Most people think you have to work at it. Better than work, I think you should play at it. If you don’t believe me, try answering the door wearing only a robe and leave that robe opened just enough to show one leg or a good part of one breast. I don’t care how tired he is, how long you’ve been married, there isn’t a doubt he’ll love it. And so will you. And how much work was involved?
Yeah, I know, there’s the kids, but if you want a touch of romance, there’s always a way. If they’re very little, put them to bed. If they’re not, work out a deal with a friend or relative. You’ll watch theirs if they take yours, even for a few hours. At the very least once a month.
Of course most brides enter marriage with stars in their eyes. Everything is perfect, he’s perfect, life is a blessing. And this love of ours will last forever. Well the part about life being a blessing is true. He’s not perfect and neither are you and I promise you neither is anything else. And if you’re counting on romantic love lasting forever, you’re really in for disappointment. Things won’t always be good. Too often you’ll hate his guts and maybe he yours. How annoying is he? How long does he need to stir his coffee? He left the seat up again and in the dark you fell into the toilet. And now your rear is wet with cold water mixed with his pee. He insists on squeezing the toothpaste from the top of the tube. God, what did I ever see in him?
Too often life steps in and ruins the best of your efforts. Bills. Loss of a job. An illness, the list is nearly endless and still all of it can be overcome by two people who love each other without stars in their eyes.
Here’s what I consider true love. It’s when one takes sick and the other grows suddenly and totally completely useless. He doesn’t eat, he can’t really think. He can’t do this. Not alone. Not without his life’s mate. How can she expect him to buy her socks and underwear? He doesn’t even know where to go to buy them.
Yeah he’s helpless when you needed him the most. All he was capable of doing was sitting by your bed and holding your hand. But just maybe that’s what you need, what you really needed.
If you’re a writer of romance, sweet or erotic it makes no difference, you base all your heroes on the most important man in your life. He’s either the only man you’ve ever known, or the best of all you’ve known. Right, he might not look like Gerard Butler, but there’s something you recognize, something in him that had always enticed. And like you, he grows older, hair turns gray, gravity takes over, lines magically appear, still he looks damn good for his age and tells you the same. Best of all, you know he means it.
In the end, it’s not sex or romantic love. No it goes far deeper than that. Over the years, through all the hardships something else grows. The emotion so deep, it’s hard to handle never mind name. It’s two against the world, smiling at the birth of grandchildren, tearing up when your last child marries, holding each other when faced with catastrophes, clinging to each other in heart-break at the death of a child, knowing pain, knowing laughter, and lastly knowing love. Long lasting steady, unromantic true love.