Reblogged from Ai Press:

http://victoriablisse.co.uk/sunday-snog

Widowed at eighteen, Lydia Swann Williston is about to make a decision that will change her life in ways she can’t understand.

She has never even heard the word “vampire.” In 1747, few have.

This Sunday Snog is from Temptation in Tartan:

And here’s the snog:

Edinburgh, 1747

Lydia looked at the man who’d accosted her. How had she failed to notice him before? Bold he was despite his sober dress. Wigless, his straight hair was unfashionably long and darker than a moonless midnight. However, his apparel would rival that of the most stylish London dandy. He wore black, which would have seemed funereal but for the richness of the fine velvet. Lace lavishly trimmed his cuffs, falling over his strong hands like spider webs over granite. Stocking-clad calves, exposed beneath black breeches, were finely turned and muscular.

His eyes also matched his garb, while his skin formed a stark contrast. Though quite pale, he was unusually attractive. His subdued attire couldn’t hide the girth of his chest and his potent masculinity. Taller than the other men in the room, he dominated the space around him.

“Yes, I’d like that,” she said. Widowhood had compensations, and one of them was being able to walk alone with a gentleman without incurring the censure of society…or of her mother, who was gossiping with a newfound friend.

His sudden smile was like the sun breaking through clouds. He opened the glass door and the breeze swirling through lifted strands of his hair that had worked loose from the dark ribbon at his nape. Lydia was seized by the absurd desire to stroke back those wayward locks. She fluttered her fan to conceal her nervousness.

#1 ARE bestseller

The mysterious stranger took her free hand and led her into the garden surrounding the Menhardie mansion. The broad summer moon cast shadows that shifted with the breeze, so she could see little but could scent much—the fragrance of plants and newly turned earth, the attar of roses she’d touched to her pulse points and, daringly, between her breasts. Most of all, she drew in the male aroma of the stranger who’d taken possession of her hand, a scent reminiscent of midnight and secret longings.

He led her deeper into the knot garden. Trees, swishing in the breeze, blocked the manse from her view. She inhaled sharply, realizing she’d walked willingly, alone, with a man she knew nothing about, into what was not only a compromising position but possibly a dangerous one.

As though he sensed her fear, he released her hand. “Would ye wish to sit?” He waved his hand at a stone bench.

She touched it with a forefinger. Moisture seeped through her glove.

“Dinnae fash yerself.” The stranger sat and held out his arms. “Come here.”

She hesitated. “I’m affianced. ‘Twould offend my new husband.”

“No one can see us, and I’m just asking ye to sit.” His gaze was not merely open and guileless, but oddly compelling.

He seemed so kind, and her worries so silly, that she complied, moving closer. He reached for her waist to help her arrange her skirts and panniers. Finally she’d settled onto his lap, sitting crossways so she was looking at his chiseled features, distinct in the moonlight, as pale as new milk.

A strange energy thrummed through her body. She was acutely aware of the firm, muscular thighs beneath her, for she had never sat on a man’s lap before. Neither her father nor her husband had asked for or taken this intimacy. Did she like it? She wasn’t sure and became even less sure when the stranger, who had one arm touching her waist already, slid his other wide palm up her calf toward her knee.

Though his touch sent a tremor of desire shafting through her being, it unnerved her even more. She squirmed but he held her fast.

“Lassie, what worries ye?”

“You are taking liberties, sir, and we…haven’t been introduced.” What a stupid thing to have said. He must think her a fool. But what did it matter? She’d never see him again.

He chuckled. “Let’s just say that I’m a man who finds you quite alluring.”

Alluring. Lydia blinked. William had never said that.

“Remember, I’m affianced.”

“Ye’re here with me. Do ye love him?”

She cleared her throat. “We’ve never met.”

“Then ye’re sharing a stolen moment with a man you…dare I say a man you like?” He flirted, but his voice held a dark timbre that seduced her soul. And yet a note of humor, kindness even, tinctured his tone.

She hesitated, then looked into his eyes and was immediately calmed. She said, “Yes. You may dare.”

“And what else may I dare?” The hand on her leg rose to her face to play with a curl, stroke her cheek. She quivered and her breasts swelled, her nipples rubbing against the lawn of her shift. Flesh for which she had no words, the secret place at the junction of her thighs, heated, tightened, moistened.

She shifted on his lap, opening her legs and leaning forward a trifle, and that sensitive, secret spot rubbed against his leg, bringing a charge of pleasure she hadn’t known before. She hid her gasp behind her fan.

He smiled at her, his eyes knowing… Did he understand how powerfully he affected her?

This was wrong, wrong. She had to stop.

“Your eyes are warm chocolate on a chilly day.” His voice was as soft as the breeze, as soft as his caress down her cheek to her mouth, which he traced. “Your lips are a temptation that I cannae resist.”

“You presume much, sir.”

“Aye, I do, but I feel I know your heart.”

If he knew her heart, then he knew it beat faster than a racing stallion’s hooves.

He inclined his head toward her. His lips were carved marble in the moon’s silver rays. “Ye desire me, do ye not?”

“Desire isn’t enough.” She’d desired William, and her marriage bed had been either empty of her husband or the scene of brief trysts devoid of pleasure. She wouldn’t be seduced by a handsome stranger. What for?

“Please.” He asked, but then he took. His mouth felt cool on hers but with a touch of fire beneath. That fire raced through her, igniting parts of her she hadn’t known could feel such heat, such rapture. She gasped again from sheer surprise, and something intruded between her lips… Before heaven, was that his tongue?

No, Lydia thought. This isn’t me.

She reached for his wrist to slide her fingers toward his elbow. She wrapped her hand around his arm and dug her thumb into the muscle just in front of the joint.

He yelped and jerked away, dumping her off his lap. She landed gracefully, stood and stepped back a pace.

“Good,” she said. “I must have hit just the right spot.”

His eyes were amazed. “Where did a lady like ye learn such a trick?”

“My brother taught me.” She couldn’t help shooting him a triumphant smile as she tucked her fan into her reticule.

He shouted with laughter. “Ye’ll do, yes, ye will! Ye’ll make a fine wife.”

“I beg your pardon?” she said stiffly.

He grinned at her. “I’m Kieran.”

She gaped at him.

“Kieran Kilborn,” he added helpfully. “The man ye’ll marry.”

*****

If you like the book, be sure to order it at:

http://www.jasminejade.com/p-10121-temptation-in-tartan.aspx

Your blog hostess:

Author Sue Swift/Suz deMello

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

Find her books at
http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at suzswift@yahoo.com

Befriend her on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/sueswift

Check out her group Facebook page, Hot Writers, Hotter Books at www.facebook.com/HotWriters

She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

http://victoriablisse.co.uk/sunday-snog

Beltane just passed and the advent of spring is a reason to celebrate.

Not so for my heroine Natasha Desmond, who has fled to the Scottish Highlands–her wicked stepbrother seeks to institutionalize her and seize control over the family fortune

Today’s Sunday Snog focuses on Natasha and her lover. After hearing legends about the local vampires–and finding two small wounds in her neck after a night in the castle–the question in her mind: is he or isn’t he?

After drinks, dinner and more teasing, Garrett walked me to my car. “’Tis a dark night.” He tilted his head to look at the clouds, which obscured the moon and stars. “I’ll drive with ye to the castle, just to make sure ye don’t lose your way.”

“What about your car?” I opened the passenger door for him.

A Scottish vamp… What could be better!

I got in the car, started it and headed out of the village. “How did you get here?”

“Walked.” He gave me a jaunty smile. “There wasna much to do up at the castle, so I spent the day hiking.”

“Are there good trails hereabouts?”

“Och, yes. Many. Some along the cliffs, some through the glen, some along the beach.” He gestured at me to turn up the narrow road to the castle.

“That sounds fun,” I said.

“I can think of something that’s more fun.”

I stopped the car at the gatehouse, turned and gave him what I hoped was a seductive smile. “What?”

“This.” He leaned toward me, cupped the back of my head in his palm and drew me close. His kiss was a scorching promise of ecstasy. He

tasted like the custard we’d shared for dessert, tasty and completely irresistible. Enraptured, I sucked on his tongue with delight and swirled my tongue in his mouth.

I pulled up his sweater to again explore his body, enjoying the hard planes, the sinew overlaying solid bone. His skin was hot and a little sultry, no doubt from the warm, crowded pub. I rimmed his nipple with a fingernail, and he moaned deep in his throat.

The many facets of this man enthralled me. Last night, he’d been remote, almost discouraging as I’d sought shelter in his castle. When he’d made love to me in my romantic canopied bed, his touch had been cool and controlled, but now he was hotter than August in Los Angeles.

He pulled away and shoved open the passenger door, almost stumbling in his haste. He strode around the hood and yanked open my door. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

Grabbing my hand, he led me to the gatehouse, down a short hall and into what I guessed was the living room, or the sitting room as they called it in Britain. While he pulled me along, he was tugging at my clothes, taking off my turtleneck, scrabbling for my jeans’ zipper. My hands were no less idle, and by the time we reached the sitting room, we were both naked, our underwear strewn on the carpet underfoot.

Like what you read? Buy it here:

http://tinyurl.com/HighlandVampHQ

Your blog hostess: 

Sue Swift/Suz deMello

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

Find her books at
http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at suzswift@yahoo.com

Befriend her on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/sueswift

Check out her group Facebook page, Hot Writers, Hotter Books at www.facebook.com/HotWriters

She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

http://victoriablisse.co.uk/sunday-snog

It’s a Mother’s Day Sunday Snog starring Elena Lautari, who, as the title character of Gypsy Witch, seemingly does it all–a modern witch who’s a demoness in the sack and a successful single mom.

Here’s an excerpt combining her concern for her child with lust for her man.

Afterglow enveloped him, and he let his body ease onto hers, then turned to one side, letting their combined sex sweat slide him to the cool sheets. She released her grip on the headboard and turned to curl against him. She rested her head on his chest and stroked his belly, his sated cock, his thighs as he relaxed.

Gypsy Witch by Suz deMello

Her caress slowed. “I wonder what the kids are doing?” Her voice was a sleepy mumble.

“I think they went over to my place. They’re probably watching a D.V.D. It’s too hot to go outside and swim.”

“Who’s watching them?” Her voice sharpened.

“Aw, Elena, relax. They’re okay. They know what they can and can’t do.”

“Mmmm. Hope you’re right.” She reached for him, this time climbing on top. He wasn’t sure he was ready for another bout yet, but she knew exactly how to turn him on.

She scooted down his body, letting the pointy tip of the topaz graze his skin. Though he was hot and sweaty from lovemaking, the contact drew shivers. She swayed back and forth, and her nipples stroked his hardening cock, a warm contrast to the gem’s coolness.

She leaned over, giving him a great view of her breasts mounding over his rod. Her lush orbs cuddled him in cloudlike softness while the topaz matched him for hardness…he groaned, and she lifted away. Taking the stone in one hand, she ran it up and down his length before sucking him into her mouth.

Hey, I didn’t say that the snog was on the lips, did I?

Here’s the blurb:

The Sacramento Sheriff’s Department is no place for airy-fairy wimps, and Ben McCullough is the toughest of the tough. He tells himself he’s bedding the luscious Elena Lautari only because she’s a babe, not because she’s a card-carrying member of the Northern California Church of Wicca. Ben thinks she’s a feather away from an arrest for fraud, since she makes a living telling fortunes and making charms for the lovelorn. He can’t see her as a lifelong mate even though she’s more than a match for him in the sack, and losing her is unthinkable.

But Elena is the real deal, a modern witch of much power and even more restraint. When her daughter, Gina, steals her mother’s spell book and uses it to shatter the fabric of existence and release an ancient evil, Elena must put reality back in place—even if she loses Ben in the process. Will Ben and Elena’s fragile love be lost with the revelation of her magic?

Maybe, but there are others ready to heal her battered heart. When Ben’s partner attempts to claim Elena, will Ben move aside or move in?

If you like what you read, click below to buy the story and check out the rest of Suzie’s sexy books:

https://www.ellorascave.com/author/suz-demello

Your blog hostess:

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica,

Author Sue Swift/Suz deMello

comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

Find her books at
http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at suzswift@yahoo.com

Befriend her on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/sueswift

Check out her group Facebook page, Hot Writers, Hotter Books at www.facebook.com/HotWriters

She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

http://victoriablisse.co.uk/sunday-snog

Here in California we enjoy a large Hispanic population, many of whom hail from Mexico or are the descendants of Mexican immigrants. Cinco de Mayo, the Fifth of May, is a holiday which celebrates a major victory in the Mexican War of Independence. We party with sangria, margaritas, tequila shots and nachos.

On this blog, we’ll celebrate with a Hispanic Sunday Snog between the hero of For My Master, Ross Guerrero, and his soon-to-be submissive, Kathie. Superspies both, they’re preparing to take down a Tijuana drug lord in a very unconventional way. They’re going to infiltrate his lair disguised as Master and slave at a D/s party. IN the snog, Ross is just beginning to prepare Kathie for their mission as well as satisfy his own desires.

And here’s the snog:

The address Ross provided was a charming Craftsman style home in La Jolla, just a few blocks from the beach. Kathie parked and grabbed her bag, stuffed with spike-heeled pumps and boots along with toiletries and make-up, everything from glittery eye-shadow to softer blushers.

 What would happen today? The situation heightened all her sensations. She’d gone commando, as guys called skipping underwear, so the sea breeze teasing her naked pussy aroused her. Even the skirt of her yellow sundress swirling around her thighs turned her on.

Her heeled sandals clattered as she walked up a slate path to wood double doors with insets of etched glass. She sucked in a breath. Was this Ross’s home? Likely, since his car was parked in the open garage.

She knocked. After breathless seconds passed, he opened the door, clad casually in denim shorts and a muscle T. She’d never seen so much of Ross before. She let her gaze trail from his chin, dark with stubble, down his throat to his chest. Solid pecs bulged beneath the T-shirt. His belly looked flatter than Kansas and his legs showed that he worked out regularly.

He was hot, just as she’d guessed. Every muscle she could see was developed, hard, ready for action.

His dark eyes raked her from top to toe and her breath stuck in her throat. Did she please him? She wasn’t big on top, but her yellow dress, with narrow straps holding up a snug, white-trimmed bodice, made the most of her assets.

Her nipples hardened beneath his gaze. They rasped against the piqué trim, increasing her heat, her need. The cotton dress skimmed her waist and flared at the hips, its short skirt showing off her tanned legs in sexy, heeled sandals.

For My Master, BDSM fiction from Ellora’s Cave

Then his smile hit her with the same power it had packed the first time they’d met. More than ever, she was sure they were fated to be together.

He pulled her inside the threshold and kicked the door shut with a bare foot. It slammed just before he kissed her.

Soft and strong…his mouth was so soft, but there was no mistaking the strength underlying his tenderness. Her master wasn’t afraid to show his gentler side, though he took what he wanted, parting her lips with his, entering her with his tongue, not with force but with a flirtatious flick that teased and tempted.

She gave in to the temptation he offered. Assured, but without brutality, each touch of his chiseled lips, each stroke of his tongue made her his. He kissed her as though nothing else in the world mattered or even existed but their mouths, exploring, their tongues twining in a seductive dance that would have only one end.

The thought of Ross inside her dragged a moan from deep in her throat. Her hips bucked, shoving wantonly against him. She pushed against his arousal, and desire flared through her like an untamed arc of electricity.

Sinewy arms encircled her while his searching hands discovered her body. He lifted her skirt to caress her pussy. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “So sweet, so sexy.”

The stroke of his hand on the newly shaved flesh was possessive, carnal. Unstoppable, and she didn’t want to stop him as he probed her dampening folds, slid along her clit to find her opening. His finger pressed inside, and she rocked, demanding more. He slipped out and spread her juices onto her clit, stoking her fire.

He caged her head with both hands, holding her fast while he again shifted his total attention to her mouth. The tempo of his tongue’s thrusts changed, mimicking sex, presaging the thorough fucking she prayed he’d give her. She gripped his shoulders and again banged her mound against his thickening cock, asking without words, hoping to drive him insane with lust. Whatever else Ross had planned, she wanted it to wait. She’d waited long enough.

He tugged at the straps of her sundress until they gave way, sliding down her arms. When they caught at her elbows, his lips left hers. With an impatient “pfft,” he tore the dress off her, popping open the buttons with eager hands. He had her naked and underneath him before she quite knew what was happening.

Like what you read?

Buy it here:

http://www.ellorascave.com/for-my-master.html

or here:

or here:

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-formymaster-865423-340.html

Your blog hostess:

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and

Sue Swift/Suz deMello

Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.
Find her books at
http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at suzswift@yahoo.com

Befriend her on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/sueswift

Check out her group Facebook page, Hot Writers, Hotter Books at www.facebook.com/HotWriters

She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

My award!

I have been awarded the “Very Inspirational Blogger” award by the incomparable Antonia van Zandt, another erotic romance novelist. I’m honored!

As for inspiration, if I inspire others I don’t know how. Conversely, I’m often asked what inspires me as a writer. Very often it’s the desire for fatter royalty checks or a deadline. As a person. I’m inspired by good sex, hot yoga and world travel.

I’m passing this nifty award along to a few other writers of my acquaintance I find inspiring:

Diane Farr, my incomparable critique partner and acclaimed writer of Regency and YA fiction.

Brenda Novak, NYT bestseller and tireless fundraiser for research into juvenile diabetes.

Deb Stover, who, as president of the Romance Writers of America,  guided the RWA and many of us into fine careers.

Jay Wiseman, a leader in sexuality, relationship and BDSM information who’s helped a lot of people

Colin Swift–this is my brother. I don’t know if he blogs but he can Facebook it (hint, hint). He’s a screenwriter who also put out a useful  nonfiction book, Prehab, which truly is inspirational. He is also a principal of Lilac Neuron Media, an arts company which produces films, books, jewelry and other art.

Forgive me, guys, for I have sinned…

Your blog hostess:

Sue Swift/Suz deMello

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

 Find her books at
http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at suzswift@yahoo.com

Befriend her on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/sueswift
. And check out her group Facebook page, Hot Writers, Hotter Books at www.facebook.com/HotWriters

She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

Gypsy Witch by Suz deMello

Happy to let you know that my newest release. Gypsy Witch, is now available at Amazon and ARE! ARE has the best deal–$1.50 after rebate. Here are the links and the cover:

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-gypsywitch-1169407-146.html

Enjoy! And do leave a review at Amazon if you’re so inclined

In other news, some of my colleagues in erotic romance and I have started a Facebook page, Hot Writers, Hotter Books, where we’ll be posting book news, observations about life and …whatever.  Do visit!

Hot Writers, Hotter Books

Gypsy Witch by Suz deMello

Happy release day to me,
Happy release day to me,
Happy release day to me-eee,
Happy release day to me!

AND MANY MORE!!!!!

Yes, another story by Suz deMello hits the digital shelves at Ellora’s Cave.
Called Gypsy Witch, it’s a paranormal-menage tale set right here in River City!
Get the 4-1-1 here:

http://www.ellorascave.com/gypsy-witch.html

My Sunshine Award!

A while back, I was the recipient of a Sunshine Award, recognition that one blogger gives other “bloggers who positively and creatively inspire others in the blogosphere”. My award was given to me by the fabulous Catherine Cavendish, a wonderful horror writer.

Her blog’s here: 
http://www.catherinecavendish.com/2013/03/the-sunshine-award-is-lovely-sunny.html
. Thanks, Cat!

As with most awards, the Sunshine Award comes with a few simple rules:

(1) Thank the person who gave you the award in your blog post.

(2) Do the Q&A below

(3) Pass on the award to 10-12 deserving and inspiring bloggers, inform them and link to their blogs.

And now for the very simple Q&A:

My fave color: Wow. This is a hard one. I majored in art and still dabble in painting and furniture refinishing, so I love color–all colors. I even love the absence of color–so white is my color of choice. I love the idea of the blank slate, the empty canvas, the paper

Waiting to be filled with beautiful words.

that exists to be filled with glorious words. Favorite animal: that’s also tough. I’ve known and loved many pets in my time. I suppose my all-time fave animal was my beautiful golden, Blondie, who died of cancer in 2005. She was my companion for thirteen years, and I still miss her loving, joyous presence in my life.

Favorite Number: This changes so I can’t really say I have one.

Favorite Non-alcoholic Drink: Fresh carrot juice. Okay, I’m weird. It’s a known fact.

Facebook or Twitter: FB all the way. Makes me laugh. makes me cry, keeps me informed about my friends’ doings.

My Passion: self-improvement. I’m always trying to be a better, more patient, kinder person.

Giving or getting presents: Ooh, another toughie. Giving–I seem to do that more. I love getting, sure, but picking out the perfect gift for someone I love is wonderful fun. And their reaction when I’ve hit it right– wonderful.

Favorite Day: Today!

And here are the gifted artists I’m tagging: Diane Farr: http://www.bestbyfarr.com/

Radhika: http://eradhika.com/

Beth Barany: http://www.bethbarany.com/

Maggie Nash: http://maggienash.blogspot.com/

Victoria Blisse: http://victoriablisse.co.uk/blog

Nick Roberts: http://masternickroberts.wordpress.com/

Lesley Carter: http://lesleycarter.wordpress.com/tag/lesley-carter/

Sedonia Guillone: http://www.sedoniaguillone.com/blog/

Emmy Ellis: http://emmyellis.blogspot.com/p/emmy-ellis.html

Deb Stover: http://debstover.blogspot.com/

Your blog hostess: Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on

Author Sue Swift/Suz deMello

writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients. Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists. A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

Find her books at
http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at suzswift@yahoo.com

Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift

‘She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun    

http://victoriablisse.co.uk/sunday-snog

Celebrating the release of my romantic thriller, Puckheads, set in the world of ice hockeye, and thanks again to Victoria Blisse for this marvelous promo opportunity.

How far would you go to win your lifelong dream?

 When Zoë Whipple agrees to make a documentary about a hockey team’s season, she doesn’t sign on for scandal, crime and murder. But she discovers that players, rabid to win the championship, don’t let morality or the law stand in the way of their ambitions.

 When a rookie dies from cardiac arrest, Zoë is saddened but not suspicious until another player, in the grip of ’roid rage, goes berserk on the ice and ends up in the hospital. Digging into the mess reveals illegal painkillers and steroid abuse among most of the team. Zoë, whose reputation for honest filmmaking is at stake, threatens to expose the scandals.

Is her new lover, team captain “Crash” Crasseau, responsible for the harassment and vandalism meant to scare her into silence? When Crasseau’s ex-wife is murdered, and Zoë’s daughter is threatened, Zoë must choose between her career ambitions and her child’s safety.

And here’s the snog:

As Zoe left the room, the first person she saw was Daniel Crasseau. Just her luck. She again wondered how she was going to manage Crasseau and his Cro-Magnon possessiveness. He didn’t seem to get the message that she wasn’t going to play his idiotic games. How many times had he hit his head on the boards? Enough to scramble the brains inside, she bet.

He leaned against the wall and regarded her with a broody stare. His eyes were the same chilly color as compressed glacial ice, which didn’t help her composure. His dark blond hair, still damp from a post-game shower, brushed the collar of a navy polo shirt. He’d belted his jeans with a strip of leather that seemed clumsily hand-tooled. Aside from his stature, he looked like any other man might. So why did Crasseau get to her?

“Zoë Whipple,” he said in his deep, rough voice.

Her nipples tightened, scratching against her lace top. She didn’t like it or him, but she finally admitted to herself what bothered her about Crash.

He was damn sexy and knew it. How was she going to deal with him?

She resented his effect on her. As a filmmaker, she regularly dealt with the rich and famous. She knew Robert Redford, for heaven’s sake. She’d flown in Harrison Ford’s plane, but her stomach had never done somersaults.

“Whipple. What a suggestive, seductive name.”

She raised a brow. “If this is your idea of sweet talk, hockey groupies are way too easy.”

Smiling, he drew closer. She caught a whiff of his cologne, a compelling, spicy scent. Then he asked, “Do you like whips, Zoë Whipple?”

Though jolted, she shot him a cool smile. “You’ll never know.”

“Oh, I think I will.”

She sucked in a breath, aware of the tiny hairs up and down her back bristling at Crasseau’s staggering arrogance. “I’m convinced you don’t get enough, Crasseau, and I’m not the answer to your, uh, little problem.” She pointedly glanced at his pants.

He reared back, putting distance between them. “I’m getting plenty, and I don’t have a little problem.”

Ha. She’d nailed him where he was weak, in his male ego. “Really?” She hoped she sounded derisive.

“Yeah, really.” He imitated her contemptuous tone.

“So why are you flirting with me? I’m old enough to be your mother.”

Those ice blue eyes again surveyed her. He smiled. “I very much doubt that. I think we are of an age, you and I, and have more in common than you may know.”

“I’m pushing forty, studboy.”

He shrugged. “Big deal. In five years, I will be also.” He sipped his whiskey and eyed her over the rim of his glass.

That meant he was, what, thirty-four? Thirty-five? Not old, but in this sport, a senior. She tried not to appear deflated, but so many hockey players were kids that she’d overlooked that Crash was a man, and a very sexy one at that.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and then to her breasts. His scent tickled her nose while his sexual aura filled her senses. How did he do that? she wondered. Was it his reputation? Would the fact he was so obviously thinking about sex make him seductive, make her think about bed?

Puckheads by Sue Swift

Zoë took another deep breath, resolving that she was not going to get involved with a man as clearly troubled as Daniel Crasseau. Any kind of intimacy with him would insult her husband’s memory. She was going to get rid of Crash, fast and forever.

She said, “What if you’re looking for something else?”

“What?”

“You get laid plenty, or so you say.” She wondered what imp had taken over her tongue. When she talked with Crash, she often said the darnedest things. She’d certainly never used so many rude, crude terms.

But Crasseau was rude and crude, and, determined to scare him off, she figured she’d fight fire with fire. “So if you don’t want sex, what is it that you want?”

He shrugged. “What could that be?”

“What if you want to open your head and heart, and sharing your body just isn’t enough?” Zoë knew that men hated to talk about feelings. There was a thousand-percent chance that Crash would turn tail and scram.

He stared at her, looking as though she’d bitch-slapped him. “I don’t want that kind of commitment.”

“Then go hit on someone else. You don’t need me, and I don’t need you to mess up my life. You come over here and flirt—”

“I hardly said anything.” Raising his hands defensively, Crasseau backed off.

“You don’t have to say anything. You flirt with your eyes, your smile, your entire body. You come in here, pure testosterone, giving off pheromones like…like the sun gives off light and heat, and you’re saying now—” She stopped, hearing a door open behind her and footsteps advance. Lauren. Damn.

He ignored the interruption. “So you are interested.”

“I have children, Crasseau,” she hissed. “I’m supposed to be setting an example.”

Her daughter slid an arm around Zoë’s waist and said, “Hi, Mom. Why don’t you introduce me?”

He smiled and extended a hand. “Daniel Crasseau.”

Grinning, Lauren shook Crash’s hand. “Lauren Whipple.”

“May I date your mother?”

“You can try. Good luck.” With a wink, she slipped past them on her way downstairs, passing another partier.

“So you’re a tough one, eh?” His eyes gleamed. “That’s all right. I like a challenge.”

Zoë folded her arms across her torso, deciding she’d deal with Lauren later. “I’m not a challenge, I’m a person.”

“Even better.”

“Right,” she sneered. “The kind of female you want is right over there.” She nodded toward the staircase, where a blonde woman now leaned against the rail, displaying her body. She wore a damp halter top, inflated breasts, thick makeup and an avid expression.

Crasseau’s gaze passed over her with total indifference. “I’m done with hockey hos and puckbunnies.” He waved a hand dismissively, and the blonde woman went back downstairs, calling Thor’s name. Crash continued. “They’re boring. Why shouldn’t I be interested in you?”

“You’re not. I don’t do one-nighters.”

“If we’re good together, there could be more.”

“Be still my heart.” She placed a hand on her chest.

As though magnetized, Crasseau’s glance followed her hand to her breasts. She again crossed her arms over herself and narrowed her eyes at him. He grinned back.

He looked infuriatingly sexy.

He looked as though he could deliver on every seductive promise.

He looked like a six-foot-four-inch problem.

How was she going to get rid of him? She said, “Crasseau, listen to me. I’m a widow. My husband died two years ago. I’m not getting involved with you or anyone.”

His eyes went blank as glass, concealing his thoughts. “I am sorry for your loss.” His voice was precise, polite, as if he were reading lines he’d memorized from Miss Manners.

Hmm, she thought. There’s something going on here.

He took her hand and kissed the back of it. She hated to admit that the gesture, though corny, felt good. What was wrong with her?

“I could make you forget the past.” His voice had gone dark and husky.

“Forget my husband? I don’t want to forget him.”

“I could make you forget the pain.” He brushed his knuckles over her collarbone, leaving a trail of sensual longing in his wake.

She shivered.

Not a cold shiver. A shiver of need, of passion.

As quickly as her desire had arisen, she squelched the feeling. The humiliation of becoming another notch on Crasseau’s hockey stick was one factor. And there was Zoë herself. Paul had been the love of her life. Why should she settle for anything less than the joy she’d known?

Crasseau was nothing but trouble. She didn’t need or want him. Did she?

While she’d ruminated, he’d eased closer. Though he’d cornered her at the end of the hallway, she didn’t feel trapped. Her heart banged against her ribs. But she wasn’t scared. She was excited.

He ran seductive fingertips up and down her bare arm. The tiny hairs lifted, tickling her, raising a tremor of response he must have seen.

Sue Swift/Suz deMello

One more bedroom smile and that’s where she’d be headed. To his bedroom.

He bent his head close to hers. “I could do it too. I could make you forget.”

He was too close and too right, damn him. “I’m…I’m cold. I want to get my jacket.”

“Funny, you look pretty damn hot to me.”

Her mouth dropped open. Hot? She was hot? Since when?

“Nice blush.” He winked at her. “You look good in red. Come with me. I’ll warm you up.”

That one had been old when Zoë was sixteen. “Warm me up? Are you kidding?”

“Ah, you’re smiling. That’s a good sign.” He covered her mouth with his.

He tasted her as though she were fine wine, sipping at her mouth rather than ravaging it. Every gentle touch of his surprisingly tender lips quivered through her body.

No one had kissed her mouth since Paul died. The shock of it made her limp, and the pleasure, a pleasure she’d forgotten, made her reel and sway, pliant in his arms.

Then there were his hands. Big, rough hockey player’s hands that had scored hundreds of goals, fought through a thousand scrums. Hands that now stroked Zoë with the delicacy of a kitten’s paws, sliding up and down her back, then palming her bottom. He pressed her hips against his with those big, firm hands.

He wasn’t lying about his desire. In instinctive response, her need whispered through every cell, as though something quiescent had awakened.

His distinctive scent filled her nostrils. What was it?

“What was what?” he asked.

Damn. She must have spoken aloud, murmuring against his mouth. No way to hide…

“Your cologne,” she said.

“I’m not wearing any.”

Double damn. That meant she found his natural scent attractive. “That’s not good.”

“Of course it is,” he said, understanding perfectly. He nibbled on her earlobe before trailing gentle kisses along the side of her throat toward her breasts.

Despite how good he felt, how good he smelled, she wasn’t ready for this, or him. A good, sharp shove forced him all the way to the opposite wall of the hallway.

“Do not,” she snarled, “do not, under any circumstances, push me into a corner like that. I am not here to wax your stick every time you think it needs polishing.”

“Maybe not, but you want me.”

“So what?” She jammed past him, planning to leave.

But a delightful, tingling warmth had spread throughout her limbs. She recognized the unfamiliar feeling. Pleasure.

A man, not her husband, had flattered her, kissed her, desired her, and she’d found it pleasurable.

She wasn’t sure she wanted that.

Zoë glanced back at Crash, who followed her. His eyes held an intensity, a desperate hunger she didn’t understand.

She couldn’t trust someone she didn’t understand.

Author bio: Suz deMello:

Best-selling, award-winning author Sue Swift, a.k.a Suz deMello, has written over fifteen novels, plus several short stories

and non-fiction articles. She writes in numerous genres including romance, mystery, paranormal, historical, contemporary comedy and erotica. She’s a freelance editor who’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, Liquid Silver Books and Etopia Press. She also takes on private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in PW, Kirkus and Booklist, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several

bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, she resides in northern California. Her passion is world travel, and she’s left the US over a dozen times, including stints working overseas for many months. Right now, she’s working on her next manuscript and planning her next trip.

Her blog is at 
http://www.fearlessfastpacedfiction.com
. Find her reading picks @ReadThis4fun on Twitter, and befriend her on Facebook (
http://www.facebook.com/SueSwift
 ). Her sites are at 
http://www.sue-swift.com
 and 
http://www.suzdemello.com
.