Thursday, August 29, 2013

Release Event: Recklessly by A.J. Sand

Celebrating the release of Recklessly by A. J. Sand, the author is offering great prizes and an excerpt from the book!

Title: Recklessly  
Author: A.J. Sand  
Release date: August 28th, 2013  
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Age Group: Mature New Adult/Adult  

Wes Elliott just met his match…and she might actually burn his entire world down.  

Surfing and sex. This is Wes Elliott's life. And it's just the way he likes it. ` After seeing his parents stay in a loveless marriage his entire life, and burying away a heartbreak from his past, he knows where romance is best left: crappy chick movies. He'd rather lust and eventually leave, and that's exactly what the plan was when he met Lana Langston. Except…turns out she’s only in it for the thrills, too. She's always only in it for the thrills: life in the literal fast lane on her motorcycle, and the hot nights in forbidden places without the awkward talks in the mornings after. She's Wes Elliott in way tighter jeans. So, this should be perfect, right? But the more time Wes spends with her, the more he wants the nights to turn into mornings. And maybe even longer. Suddenly, it isn't so perfect for him anymore. And the things he thought were buried are digging themselves up. Now Wes is in a lot of trouble. He’s falling in love with the one girl who might be a bigger risk than even a guy who gets barreled by the most dangerous waves in the world is willing to take on. Can Wes and Lana figure out a way to make it work? Or is he headed for something far more reckless? Due to the sexual content, language and violence, this work is not recommended for readers under 18.  

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Here's an excerpt from the book:

She kept a tiny smile on her face as her gaze wandered over the length of his frame, but she paused in specific areas: his eyes, his chest and his mid-section. Wes loved that she was checking him out, and doing it so openly. No doubt, it excited him and he gladly let her indulge; he had nothing to be insecure about. The cordial sibling rivalry between him and Abel kept him in the gym at least four days a week, women seemed to dig his tattoo sleeve, and his looking like the stereotypical tall, blond surfer didn’t hurt, either. He let Abel have the longer hair though, opting to keep his short but enough to still let women run their fingers through.

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked.

Wes grinned. He really liked how forward she was. “My brother and I are going up to Malibu. Waves are better than usual.”

“You surf?” Lana reached down to fiddle with something on her bike, and Wes tilted his head to stare at her butt again. She had her phone in her hands once she was upright again, so he pulled his out. She recited her phone number, and he called it so that she could have his, too.

“Yeah, we both surf. Professionally.”

Lana dropped her hand to her hip. “Of course, sexy, tattooed blondie surfs.”

“You think I’m sexy?” Wes cocked a half-grin. He was but he liked hearing her say it. He leaned against the back of his SUV and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I think you think you’re sexy!”

“You’re thinking it, too, though,” he declared.


 
About the Author A.J. Sand grew up an only child whose parents bought her many, many books to keep her busy, so it was only natural that she would start writing her own stories. She is the author of “Documentary,” “Remake” and “Recklessly.” She lives just outside of Washington, D.C.

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Wednesday, August 28, 2013

NAked with Nicole R. Taylor

Today we are NAked with Nicole R. Taylor and I am positive you're as excited as we are, right?


Who are you and what should we know about you in 50 words or less?
My name is Nicole R. Taylor and I write Contemporary Romance and Urban Fantasy with a twist.
The first three books in my Urban Fantasy series, The Witch Hunter Saga, are out now, and The Devil's Tattoo (a rock'n'roll romance set in Australia) is out September 1st.

Which one: chocolate or bacon?
Chocolate. Bacon is a close second.

What is the name of your book and what is it about in 50 words or less?
The Devil's Tattoo.
It follows the story of an unlikely heroine, shy, broken and awkward and suddenly thrust into the spotlight. Making it big means going on tour with the hottest indie rock band of the moment and right into the path of something she's been fighting against for years. Her heart.

Tell us your main character's name and 3 adjectives that describe him/her. (If you have multiple main characters, do this for each).
Zoe Granger: determined, stubborn, wild
Will: compassionate, protective, clueless

Who is your current book boyfriend?
I don't really have book boyfriends. If I were to meet one of the guys from The Devil's Tattoo, Dee would be my kinda guy. Fun, crazy, protective. He's a clown, but a loveable one.


About The Devil’s Tattoo
Contemporary Romance
(18+ due to adult themes, sex scenes and coarse language)
Release date: 1st September 2013

SYNOPSIS
Zoe Granger picked up her first guitar the day her heart was smashed into a billion pieces. It was a way to keep her mind off her inevitable downward spiral, but music soon became her escape. She's been burned too many times to tell and is just happy to coast through life, never putting herself out there. That's until her best friend Dee suggests they start a band and suddenly she finds herself not just a part of it, but fronting the whole outfit.

They call themselves The Devil's Tattoo and when they release their debut EP, it rockets to the top of the charts and it's like an overnight fairytale. Contracts, photo shoots, royalties and interviews are heaped onto the shy Zoe and it's like she's finally found her place. Then comes the phone call that changes everything. They've been asked to co-headline a tour with one of the hottest bands of the moment, The Stabs and Zoe will never be the same again.

Will Strickland is one fourth of the hottest indie rock band to ever grace the airwaves. He's the bass player in The Stabs, hot as hell and could have his pick of any girl that flings herself at him. But he's only got eyes for Zoe and she has no idea why he'd bother. She's got one hell of a trust issue and an attitude to boot and Will seems to be the one who wants to tame her, but is he game enough?

The Devil's Tattoo and The Stabs go on the road and it's either going to be a highway to hell or a stairway to heaven. Only time will tell who will come out on top and Zoe's determined to do it without getting her heart broken… again.


About Nicole
Nicole R. Taylor is a paranormal, urban fantasy and contemporary fiction author from Ballarat, in Victoria, Australia.

Nicole is a graduate of the University of Ballarat Professional Writing and Editing program and is a former music memorabilia sales person and grocery merchandiser. Previously, she has written for Fasterlouder.com.au and various small street press music and entertainment publications as a gig and album reviewer before publishing her first Urban Fantasy novel in early 2013.

When she isn't writing, Nicole likes to spend time curled up with a good book and her 3-year-old rescue cat, Burger. She gets itchy feet more often than not and has lived in three countries and travelled to three times as many.

Her new paranormal fantasy series, The Witch Hunter Saga is available in print and eBook (from March 2013).

The Witch Hunter (Book #1 in the Witch Hunter Saga):
Amazon / Smashwords / Book Depository / Barnes&Noble / iTunes / Kobo

The Return (Book #2 in the Witch Hunter Saga):
Amazon / Smashwords / Book Depository / Barnes&Noble


Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Cover Reveal: Found in You by Laurelin Paige

It's finally here! My cover reveal for Found in You, the sequel to Fixed on You. Are you ready for this? And make sure you stay til the end because I have an awesome giveaway.

First, here's the book description:


Alayna Withers has only had one kind of relationship: the kind that makes her obsessive and stalker-crazy. Now that Hudson Pierce has let her into his heart, she’s determined to break down the remaining walls between them so they can build a foundation that’s based on more than just amazing sex. Except Hudson’s not the only one with secrets.

With their pasts pulling them into a web of unfounded mistrust, Alayna turns to the one person who knows Hudson the best—Celia, the woman he almost married. Hoping for insight from someone who understands all sides of the story, Alayna forms a bond with Celia that goes too far—revealing things about Hudson that could end their love for good.

This is the first relationship where Alayna hasn’t spiraled out of control. And she might lose Hudson anyway…


And now, the cover:


I hope you like it. :)

If you haven't had a chance to read Chapter One of Found in You, it's available for FREE for a short time on Amazon.

Plus, in celebration, I have a giveaway and a sale! Fixed on You is only available for $.99 for one day so get it now if you haven't yet.

 



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Monday, August 26, 2013

Meet the NAturals: Sophia Bleu

If you've already read Part One, here's Part Two, Part Three, Part Four and Part Five.

Hi! We're the NAturals - six authors who read and write New Adult books. We'd like to introduce ourselves to you this week with a story we've written. The first part of our story is written by Sophia Bleu, author of Catching Liam. Stick around to the end - we have some awesome prizes!

The Boy Next Door

When your Friday afternoon plans involve being crammed in a half-squat between hanging shirts and pants while stark-freaking-naked, it’s time to reevaluate your life. And I was going to do just that as soon as Derek rescued me from the closet. It had occurred to me before that dating a guy who still lived at home was going to be a problem, but it was hard to be choosy when nearly every guy my age had already taken off to college. I was on the delayed-start plan myself, trying to save up enough money by working temporary and part-time jobs to go away next year. That’s how I’d met Derek and wound up naked in his closet. I had a knack for situations like this.

“Make sure you water the rhododendrons every afternoon or they’ll die, and do it today, please.” His mother had been listing all the chores she needed done when she left on her Alaskan cruise in the morning. So far she’d been here for what felt to be an hour. I didn’t actually have a watch. Hello, naked. But I had a cramp in my thigh that was getting worse by the minute, and it felt like I’d achieved a level sixty in discomfort.

“And no overnight visitors,” she finished.

“Of course, Mom,” Derek said.

“Especially not that Natalie girl. I don’t think she’s a good influence.”

The joke was on her, except it sorta felt like it was on me now. I’d lowered my own standards by dating Derek and now I was listening to his mom bad-mouth me in the same room.

I could barely make anything out between the door slats, but I could imagine the condescending look on her face. She’d worn the same look each of the two times I’d met her in person.

An ex-boyfriend told me once that I looked like sex on a stick, which at the moment curried favor right into my pants, but on closer reflection, having plump Angelina Jolie lips and bedroom eyes wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. It got me into more trouble than it ever helped me, except for the time it got me out of speeding ticket. And it was definitely the reason I was hiding right now. Derek had realized pretty fast how his mom felt about me and our recent dates had felt more like illicit trysts. Him begging me to hide in his closet? That was the final nail in this relationship’s coffin.

When the closet door finally opened an eternity later, I fell onto the floor, blinking against the light.

“Not cool.”

“You know my mom’s rules, I—”

“Yeah, I know.” I sat up and grabbed for my jeans. I had to do this now. There was no point in dragging things out any longer. Derek had made it clear that he wasn’t taking me home to meet Mom anymore, and no matter what I looked like on the outside, I expected a helluva lot more on the inside than being treated like that.

“Look, I have an early thing tomorrow. Maybe...”

His passive-aggressiveness distracted me from the it’s-not-you-it’s-me speech that was scheduled to begin as soon as I was dressed. “On a Saturday?”

He shifted his feet, his eyes refusing to look away from the wall. “I don’t think this is working out. You’re nice, but—”

“Wait!” I stopped him. “You’re breaking up with me while I’m still topless in your room?”

“Natalie, I really like you, but I’m going to be a junior manager soon.”

“For a video rental store,” I reminded him. I had a better shot at being employed as a temp than he had at a long-term career at a video store.

“You don’t have to be a bitch about it,” he said, throwing me my shirt.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been in your closet for half an hour listening to your mommy assign your chores list and now you’re telling me I’m not good enough for you? Let me save you the trouble, Derek. It’s not me, it’s you.” I’d managed to snap the back of my bra during my rant and, before he could say anything else, I marched--shirt and sandals in hand--out of his room, down the stairs, and right past the living room where his mother stared at me in horror.

“Don’t worry. Derek won’t be having me over this weekend,” I told her. “But you should make him wash his sheets so he can get all the sin off of them.”

I slammed the front door behind me for emphasis and quickly pulled on my shirt before any of the neighbors happened to see me. I actually hadn’t had sex with Derek. Ever. We’d come close a couple of times, but something always stopped us. I should probably go back in his house and thank his mom for her cockblock tonight. If I’d actually gotten as far as screwing him, I would have been more pissed off than I was right now.

As it was, I was pissed enough to be shaking, and the trembling in my fingers hadn’t abated by the time I’d reached my car parked at the end of the street in front of someone else’s house. It was so bad that I dropped my keys twice trying to unlock my pre-modern car with its manual everything.

“You okay?”

I spun around to spot a guy on the porch, watching me.

“Fine. I’m just going home.” The truth and the lie mixed into a nasty cocktail in my mouth. I was going home, but I wasn’t fine. I was bored and angry and tired of being stuck in this town.

But it was too late, he was already striding toward me like some knight in shining armor. Except he wouldn’t be a knight in shining armor. I’d learned that was a childhood fantasy sold to me by princess movies. When he finally reached me, I’d managed to stick my key into the lock, but when I turned around to tell him his chivalry was unnecessary, I realized I knew him. It was Ben Simons.

It would be bad form to call Ben Simons the one who got away, because he was two years older and he’d spent his whole life swimming in an entirely different pond than me.

Sophia Bleu would rather be walking on the beach than watching television. In real life you can find her catching a plan, chasing two kids, or making out with the love of her life, all 6 foot 3 inches of hotness that he is. Life is pretty good.
 

Her NA novel, CATCHING LIAM, is available now. 


Here's your chance to enter two giveaways. Click here for PART 2 of our story and a chance to win more prizes. 

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Cover Reveal: Speak Easy by Melanie Harlow & Giveaway

Remember this amazing book by our own awesome Melanie?


Well, now it's got a buddy! Speak Low, the sequel/conclusion to Speak Easy is down below. But first, check out the deets:

Speak Low by Melanie Harlow  (Speak Easy #2)
Publication date: November 4th, 2013
Genres: Historical, New Adult, Romance

Synopsis:
We always want what we can’t have.

Tiny O’Mara is tired of living in a world where men make all the rules. After bootlegging enough whiskey to free her father from the DiFiore crime family, twenty-year old Tiny is determined to gain her independence.

But it’s going to cost her.

Her alliance with sultry Enzo DiFiore is based more on their explosive chemistry than loyalty or trust. But she’s promised him some information that will help him take revenge on The River Gang, and when he offers her a job, an apartment, and the prospect of nights spent together where anything goes, she can’t refuse—which only puts her further in his debt.

She needs gorgeous childhood pal Joey Lupo to help her again—when they’re not at each other’s throats, they make a good team, and her attraction for him is becoming impossible to deny. But after she rejects his offer to leave town together, he’s tempted to let her fend for herself.

As Enzo’s need for possession and power escalate and her feelings for Joey deepen, Tiny realizes her mistakes. She just hopes she gets the chance to fix them before it’s too late.
AUTHOR BIO
Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her lipstick red, and her history with the naughty bits left in. SPEAK EASY was inspired by her cocktail-culture obsession, her affection for good gin, and the view from the end of her street. She lifts her glass to NA readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI.


And now, the cover...


PLUS, in celebration, Melanie's giving away a $25 gift certificate and offering Speak Easy for $.99 ALL WEEK. If you haven't read it, now's your chance!


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Sunday, August 25, 2013

Sugar Sundays: Part Five


Hello NAtural readers!

Catch up here:

Find Part One here: http://thenaturalauthors.blogspot.com/2013/06/sugar-sunday-inaugural-post.html

And Two here: http://thenaturalauthors.blogspot.com/2013/07/sugar-sundays-part-2.html

And Three: http://thenaturalauthors.blogspot.com/2013/07/sugar-sundays-part-three.html
Also Four: http://thenaturalauthors.blogspot.com/2013/08/sugar-sunday-part-four.html

And then enjoy some fresh Sugar.

As always, I hope you had an extra-sweet weekend!

xoxo,
Lucy



An hour gave her more than enough time to get some work done for a new client, shower, and change into something sexy. Wait- what would Sugar think was sexy? Her closet stared back at her, unknowing. Business casual? Jeans? The bridesmaid’s dress from her cousin’s wedding last fall? She settled on a sundress over leggings. Easy on, easy off.

            Crawling through her neighbors window was the first problem. Her dress snagged on the lever and left her half undressed in an unfamiliar basement. Should have worn a bra. Standing on her tiptoes and praying a Hail Mary got it free, but then she felt guilty about invoking the Mother’s help on such a foolish and rather irreverent situation and had to whisper a second as her eyes adjusted to the dark. She took a step forward and heard a yowl.

            It wasn’t until she’d leapt halfway back out the window that she realized she’d stepped on a cat. Theresa knelt and apologized softly. It was soft, and could almost be cute, if it hadn’t been a four-legged creature. She would never understand the point of having a roommate that wouldn’t eventually learn how to use a can opener. It was in this kneeling position, bent over a soulless animal, that she heard floorboards creaking above her. Floorboards and high heels. That was not Sugar. She hoped fervently, anyway.

Clearly her prayers were losing favor Upstairs.  

The footsteps wandered for a moment and stopped. Just as her heartbeat began to slow, Theresa heard the unmistakable ding of a microwave, followed by more steps and a chair scraping against the floor. Carolina was clearly not asleep.

            Wtf. Someone is awake and I am fairly certain it is not you. She typed into her phone before silencing it. She stared at the device, willing Sugar to write back. Nothing. She eased back towards the window. Wait- the setup of this townhouse was identical to hers. That meant the kitchen window looked out over the basement window. Theresa was trapped.

The cat meowed and she dropped again to silence it with petting. The chair scraped again. Okay, so Carolina was done eating. A moment later, a second ding from the microwave. Seconds? Good grief! Where did she put three helpings in that body? The metabolism envy was cut short by the sound of a door opening above her.

            “Kitty? You down here?” her neighbor’s voice softly called down the basement stairs. Theresa would have sworn her heart stopped altogether. There would be no explaining this. Oh dear God, Carolina would assume she was the thief, breaking and entering and all. The horror! The unjust horror! Hand over her mouth, she eased behind a bookshelf as high-heels clattered down in her direction. She jammed her phone into her cleavage and began to pray that Sugar would not text back. Silenced or not, the phone would light up and give away her hiding spot.

            “Kittyyyyyy. Where’d you go?” It yowled again. Traitor. If the little shit DID have a soul, Theresa hoped for its damnation in the Ninth Circle. She shrank even further into the shadows and tried not to breathe. That only made her breathe harder. Her only hope was that the pattern of footsteps appeared to belong to a rather intoxicated Carolina.  

            Despite the danger, Theresa eased the phone halfway out of its hidey-hole and cupped a hand around it to muffle the light. No new texts. She was dangerously close to hyperventilating. The click-clacks staggered closer to the bookshelf. Lungs aching from unreleased air, Theresa squeezed her eyes shut and prayed again. Mary was the wrong choice here. This was a case for the patron saint of lost causes- only Jude could help her now.

            “…bring visible and speedy help where help was almost despaired of…” she mouthed, eyes squinched tight. The footsteps wavered and began to move off.

            “Fucking kitty. Starve then, eh?” Yes, her voice was definitely retreating.

            “I promise thee, O blessed Jude, to be ever mindful of this great favor…” The stairs creaked for a moment and then the door slammed. Theresa sank to the floor, gasping for breath. Shit. She got her miracle, but now she’d have to follow through on all her desperate promises to God, Mary, Jude, and a few randos she’d called on to hedge her bets. Well, there went booze, tea, her Sunday mornings for a year, and rock-n-roll for a week. Good thing she hadn’t added sex to the list- that was a sin she was a bit too pleased with at the moment to offer up.

            Her boobs lit up like Christmas just as she began to consider crawling back out the window.

            Are you still here? What just happened?

            Yes. And I would rather not discuss it. Kindly fetch me from your basement.

If they were going down, they were going down together. At least if Theresa got busted with Sugar, she wouldn’t be thought a thief. Just a slut. Meh, most people made assumptions when they found out she was a Catholic school alumni anyway.

The steps clomping her direction now were steady and heavy. She was sure it was Sugar, but waited until she heard him talking to the Judas-Cat anyways. Squaring her shoulders, she gathered all of her dignity to stalk out from the bookcase as though the past… dear God, half hour… hadn’t happened.

“I am less than pleased,” she hissed between gritted teeth. He had the gall to laugh out loud.

“How long were you down here, anyway? I bet you were totally freaking out! Can you imagine the look on my sister’s face?”

“I said I would rather not discuss it.”

“Aw, don’t be fussy. I’ll kiss you all better,” as he leaned into her neck. Theresa supposed she’d rather earned it at this point, and allowed herself to be led upstairs and onto his bed. His mouth hovered above hers as he traced her lips with his thumb. He moved both hands up and back, smoothing her hair away from her face and then tangling his fingers in it as he pressed his lips against hers. He waited for hers to part before gently moving his tongue against hers. She relaxed gradually into him as he continued his talented assault on her grumpiness.

“I like your dress,” he murmured as he began to tug it over her head. Going braless had been a good decision. Her nipples hardened first at the chill air, then at the wetness of his mouth. Sucking and nibbling, his hands worked her leggings down her legs. Going commando had also been a good idea.

The kisses trailed further down. Theresa raised up onto her elbows and watched him part her legs and move between them. She had never been certain of protocol during a close encounter of the southern kind. Eye contact or no? Then his tongue began to move over a particularly sensitive spot, her eyes closed involuntarily as her back arched, and all questions of etiquette were forgotten.





Saturday, August 24, 2013

Meet the Naturals: Sierra Simone

 Part Six of our story is written by Sierra Simone, an NA reader and writer. Look for her books in the near future. If you haven't read Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, and Part Five please read them first. Don't forget to stick around to the end for a chance to win awesome prizes.

The Boy Next Door (Pt. 6)

“Promise you won’t knee me afterwards?” he said, but the joking tone was belied by the hitch in his voice.

I kept moving against him, loving the way his stomach tightened with every move I made. “That depends on how good you are.”

“Oh, I can be very good.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I watched as he reached into his pillowcase and pulled out a condom, which he unwrapped and rolled on with the ease of experience. I moved forward so that he was pressing against my entrance, and then--still slick from our earlier pool adventure--slowly took him in, savoring the feeling of his crown sliding into me, following by his cock, which was hot and hard. I sat back, taking him in until he was sunk to the hilt, feeling fuller than I’d ever felt before.

“Christ, Ben,” I breathed.

His hands slid from my breasts to my hips and he began guiding me back and forth, back and forth. I closed my eyes and let my head hang back as I rode him, gently at first, then faster and faster. I felt safe with him, secure with him, in a way that surpassed my normal headstrong confidence. I felt like I could be vulnerable with him, just as he had been with me when he confessed his high school crush on me.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. Our eyes met, his smoldering and dark, but I kept moving, wanting him to feel how much this moment meant to me, wanting him to know how good he made me feel. I could feel a telltale clenching in my core and I opened my mouth to cry out, but before I could climax on my own, Ben pressed a gentle thumb to my clit and began rubbing it in slow circles. That was all I needed. I came in what felt like an explosion, a nuclear chain reaction, one spasming core muscle leading to the next and to the next, pulling the very fabric of my being apart.

Ben flipped me onto my back, hovering over me. “What do you think, mascot?”

“I think you’re amazing,” I said, my body still rippling with pleasure. I looked down at his cock, thick and impossibly hard between his muscular thighs. My body pulsed again, this time in anticipation.

Ben leaned down to kiss my neck, his lips trailing down to my breast, where he took a nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping in a way that made me arch my back. Then, without warning, he plunged into me, hissing in satisfaction as my pussy took all of his considerable length.

He stroked in and out--pulling himself almost all the way out and then plunging in again, his hips drilling into my thighs. From my vantage point, I could see all the best parts of him on display--his broad shoulders and sculpted chest, his ridged abs and narrow hips, all of his body tensed in the pursuit of fucking me into oblivion.

“You’re so fucking hot, Natalie,” he said.

“I was about to say the same about you.”

“You have no idea how many nights I fantasized about this,” he said, still thrusting. “How many hours I spent dreaming about your pussy and that mouth. Damn, that mouth.” I took his hand and drew a finger into my mouth, where I kissed and sucked at his fingertip, knowing my plump lips looked undeniably sexy as I did so. I was rewarded with such an expression of dark lust that I almost came just witnessing it.

And with that, all bets were off. He started screwing me harder, the cords in his neck raised with the strain. I slid my hand over his shoulders, in awe of his body, of him, enjoying this crazy, hot, unbelievable moment.

“Oh no, you’re coming with me,” he commanded, mistaking my awe for relaxation, and then he moved into a kneeling position, raising my legs so that my ankles rested against his shoulders. From here he had unfettered access to my clitoris, which he teased and caressed expertly, all the while hitting new angles inside me that made my toes curl. I moaned, my body too sensitive to handle another orgasm, but he kept going, kept stroking and thrusting until my body tightened once again.

“I think I could fuck you all night and still not get enough,” he growled, and once more, my core squeezed and thrilled and my pussy clenched around his cock as I rode the intense orgasm.

He growled once more, and then I felt him pulsing inside me, his entire body surrendering at last. But even as his cock jerked with spent desire, his eyes never left mine, and that feeling of security surrounded me once more.

He collapsed by my side, and we lay panting for a few moments, the sounds of the party still spilling into the room. I smiled to myself as I watched him breathe; to think, if I hadn’t finally called it quits with Derek and stormed out without my shoes, I wouldn’t have run into Ben. He wouldn’t have invited me to his party and told me that he’d liked me for years and we wouldn’t have shared this mind-blowing night together.

And hopefully, it was the first of many mind-blowing nights.

As if reading my thoughts, Ben rolled over onto his side and propped his head up on his hand. “So, I know it’s kind of soon, but would you like to meet my mother tomorrow? I think you guys would really hit it off.”

“You think she likes town girls who knee people in the balls?”

“I know she likes kick-ass, independent girls who knee people in the balls.”

I stroked his stomach, tickling his sides with my fingertips. “Okay. But I am under no circumstances ever going near a rhododendron again.”

 Sierra Simone is a librarian by day, young adult author by night, and lover of heart-fluttering, pulse-quickening, skin-tingling romance by late night. She lives in a city she loves with two dimple-cheeked kids and a man in uniform.

We hope you enjoyed your chance to Meet the Naturals. Come back and visit us for all the latest in NA. Here's your chance to enter two giveaways. 

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Friday, August 23, 2013

Meet the Naturals: Lucy Stark

Part Five of our story is written by Lucy Stark, an NA reader and writer. Look for her books in the near future. If you haven't read Part One, Part Two, Part Three, and Part Four, please read them first. Don't forget to stick around to the end for a chance to win awesome prizes.

The Boy Next Door (Pt. 5)


It was pretty sweet, walking into a party that contained so many people I went to high school with on the arm of Ben Simons. It was also pretty sweet how many people he introduced me to as the swim team’s mascot for the Jensen incident. It made me sound like a mermaid or something.

“Can I get you a beer, Natalie?” Ben asked, his breath warm against my ear. I shivered and nodded. The way he said my name was... pleasant. He walked off and I needed to cool down. I slid into the pool and breathed in the familiar tang of chlorine. It reminded me of Ben’s scent. And his neck. And his lips. Well, I was not cooling down any time soon.

Pushing off against the smooth concrete, I relaxed into a float and closed my eyes against the setting sun. The sounds of the party faded as the water lapped against my ears. Ben Simons’ date. So far, my evening was really making up for the Derek debacle. Plus, all that time squatting in his closet meant I was feeling pretty good about my legs in this bikini.

Legs that were suddenly not alone. A finger trailed soft and hot over my infamous right knee. Through a cracked eye, I saw Ben. He’d left the beers on the edge of the pool. Fine by me. I was much more interested in a taste of him at the moment. His finger traced the shape of my thigh, past the soft hollow where the string of my bikini bottoms rested. I shivered as it brushed up my side, grazing the side of my breast.

“You are one hell of a woman,” he murmured. The deep sound of his voice seemed to vibrate deep in my belly. I smiled as his finger continued its agonizingly slow ascent towards my chin. He tipped it up and bent down to kiss me. My lips just barely touched those of the most gorgeous swimmer to ever grace the lanes of Central High, and already my desire for him was Olympic-sized. His tongue danced around mine. It was a good thing he’d moved his arms around me, because I forgot to float.

I leaned into him, his face in my hands, forgetting to breathe. He guided us towards the edge of the pool and out of the way of a rowdy game of Chicken. Pressed into his body, my back to the cement, I could tell he had an Olympic-sized desire too. His head dipped and he nipped at my neck. I groaned and tilted my head to give him better access. One of his hands tangled in my hair and tugged as the other slid around to my abdomen. He nudged my legs apart with one of his as his fingers slipped beneath the lycra and did award-winning things to my vulva. I opened my eyes with a gasp as I came, the sunset casting the ripples of the pool as orange as the fireworks in my head. I threw my head back in bliss, and promptly crashed it right into the beer bottles. They clattered noisily to the deck, drawing the attention of about twenty of my former classmates.

“Nice work, Swim Team Mascot!” someone yelled, followed by a round of laughter. So much for being discreet.

“We should go inside,” Ben’s voice murmured huskily through his grin. He pulled me out of the pool and began to cut a path through the crowd. It seemed to have swelled since I got into the pool. The crowd wasn’t the only thing, I reflected as I followed Ben’s muscular back.

“Slut.” The voice came from the deck chairs to the left. Ben and I stopped at the same time.

“Derek.” Ben’s voice held the calm anger of someone who was about to--yep, he was pulling his arm back to clock that little fuckshovel for a second time. I put my hand on his bicep.

“May I?” I asked him. He smiled, and bowed in Derek’s direction. I flexed a couple times, and delivered the most epically damaging crotch-knee of my career. It was my turn to bow as I left Derek sobbing on the deck and headed into Ben’s house.

We’d hardly gotten into his room before he was on me.

“You, Natalie Baker, are dangerous.”

“Mm-hmm,” I moaned into his mouth.

“And tough as nails.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And the sexiest girl I’ve seen since high school.”

I pulled my head back. “Who was the sexy girl then? April Taylor? Shawna Mataya?”

He pulled my lower lip into his mouth and shook his head gently at the same time. I darted my tongue against his until he let me go.

“Julia Albin? Cady Stark? Oh! Emily King. You guys dated for like, ever.”

This time when he pulled my lip in, he bit it.

“You, stupid. I had a crush on you all through high school, but you were intimidating.”

“Me? I’m a kitten.” I attempted to purr, while taking his pants off at the same time. Wet swimsuits tend to stick more than jeans do.

“I thought you’d eat me alive.” He pushed my hands against the bedroom wall and slithered out of his trunks himself. The best part about string bikinis is that you will never have to watch a man struggle to get them off, even if they aren’t as obviously experienced as Ben Simons. A few quick tugs and we were naked, dripping, and breathing hard in the middle of what had to be his childhood bedroom.

I shoved him, and he fell easily onto the bed beneath the Muse poster. I hopped up to straddle his tanned, chiseled body.“Oh, I will,” I promised, as I pressed his willing hands onto my breasts and rubbed hard against his cock, sliding back and forth as Ben groaned.
Lucy Stark loves wine, boys, and macaroons, not necessarily in that order. She thinks writing kissing scenes is hard, but not nearly as hard as writing her bio. And writing her bio is certainly not as thrilling.

Look for Lucy's NA romance SOUTHERN ROCK to arrive Fall 2013.


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Thursday, August 22, 2013

Meet the Naturals: Laurelin Paige

Part Four of our story is written by Laurelin Paige, author of Fixed on You. If you haven't read Part One, Part Two  and Part Three please read them first. Don't forget to stick around to the end for a chance to win awesome prizes.

The Boy Next Door (Pt.4)
My skin erupted in goose bumps, my heart beating so loud I was sure Ben could hear it. Despite my
decision to take it slow, I said the words that I knew were an invitation to do just the opposite. “Well, looks like now’s your chance to find out.”

Not even half a second passed before he crushed his mouth against mine. His skin was surprisingly soft, but his pressure firm, as he teased my lips apart. When he had an opening, his tongue slid along mine, tentatively at first, then stronger, his long strokes making me dizzy and breathless. He tasted good, like spearmint with a hint of keg beer. The sneaky devil must have popped a breath mint right before he called out to me. Part of me wanted to say, “Confident, much?” but on the other hand, his boldness was HOT.

He closed in against me as our kiss accelerated to a frenzied pace, his body mashing against my curves in ways that made my inner thighs tingle. And, holy shit, was he built. His body had always looked strong, but pressed up against me, the hard planes of his chest and abs became evident, and yowzers, he was cut!

Speaking of hard…his erection thickened as our make-out session progressed. It was so wonderful, felt so wonderful, I felt like I was falling, falling, falling…

And then I was falling. Literally. When Ben had pushed into me, I’d leaned back expecting the brick wall would catch me, but I must have turned while we were kissing and instead of brick, I met the jagged edge of the trellis. The wood splintered with a crack, jabbing into my rib. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground tangled up in rhododendron bushes and broken pieces of wood. So much for the trellis being strong.

“Hey, are you okay?” Ben gave me his hand, helping me out of my mess when I heard it—the sound of the window screeching the rest of the way open above us.

“What’s going on down there?” Derek peered over the pane. “Natalie?”

“Um, hi.” Well, this was awkward.

“Give me a minute and I’ll be down there.”

“No, it’s fine, Derek. You don’t need to…” But he’d already left the window. Dammit. Just what I needed—a potential confrontation with Derek and oh-so-yummy-man-of-my-every-dream Ben Simons.

“Look, Ben.” I had to say something before Derek arrived, explain in some way. “Until this morning, I was sort of, kinda seeing Derek.”

“Sort of, kinda?”

“We were messing around. Secretly. Stupidly.”

“But you’re not now?”

“I’m definitely not now.” I shouldn’t have been with that loser in the first place. “Is that…” slutty, I thought, but said, “bad?”

Ben shrugged. “I guess if you hadn’t been here breaking up with him, I never would have bumped into you. And that would have been quite unfortunate.” He leaned in and I waited expectantly for his kiss.

“What the hell?”

Derek. Somehow his impending arrival had slipped my mind.

“Derek. Long time no see.” Ben nodded to my ex-whatever.

With my messed up hair and Ben’s noticeable hard-on, it was obvious even to dim-witted Derek what exactly had been going on beneath his window. “Ben,” he said tersely. “I didn’t realize you were back in town. Your endless stream of girls isn’t enough, you had to go and steal mine?”

The image of Ben and an endless stream of girls left an uncomfortable knot in my gut, but I filed it away to deal with later and focused on what else Derek had said. “Are you fucking kidding me? You broke up with me. This morning. Did you forget?”

“Wait, he broke up with you?” I hoped the chill in Ben’s tone was my imagination.

“Yes.” I hated admitting it. “No. I mean, it was over regardless of who officially said the words.”

“I didn’t realize you’d immediately run and hump the next thing you ran into.”

“Hey, that is no way to talk to a lady.”

“Lady? Natalie ain’t a lady. She’s tits and mouth—an incredible mouth—but that’s about all—”

A fist interrupted Derek’s speech—Ben’s fist. He socked the asshole right in the jaw.

An entire new wave of tingles spread through my body. I’d never had a guy fight for me before.

“What the fuck was that for?” Derek rubbed at his face. I was a little disappointed to see there was no blood.

“I don’t appreciate you talking that way about my date. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be heading back to our party now.” Ben held his hand out to me.

My date. I grinned from ear to ear. But I couldn’t leave without letting on about what I’d overheard. “Marni, Derek? Really?”

Derek’s jaw dropped. Mission accomplished. I laced my fingers in Ben’s and let him lead me toward
his house.

“Hey,” I called over my shoulder to a stunned Derek. “You forgot to water the rhododendrons.”

Laurelin Paige is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Mad Men and the Walking Dead, or dreaming of Adam Levine. She is represented by Bob Diforio of D4EO Literary Agency.

Her debut NA/contemporary adult crossover FIXED ON YOU is available now.


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Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Meet the Naturals: Melanie Harlow

Part Three of our story is written by Melanie Harlow, author of Speak Easy. If you haven't read Part One and Part Two please read them first. Don't forget to stick around to the end for a chance to win awesome prizes.

The Boy Next Door (Pt. 3)

A few hours later I was parked down the street from Ben’s house, debating the wisdom of going in by myself. Through the open passenger window, which no longer rolled up all the way, I could hear music coming from his yard. Normally I wasn’t shy about going anywhere solo, but I couldn’t decide if showing up alone at Ben’s party would make me look like a losery loner whose smarter friends had all gone away to college, or if it might lend me a cool sort of independent hipster vibe.

A hipster who’d run out for a Brazilian bikini wax right after his invitation.

I had to empty my bank account to pay for it, and I tipped the girl with change scrounged from the bottom of my car, but it was a necessity. With a razor I could have gotten myself bathing-suit-ready, but I wanted to be Ben-Simons-might-put-his-lips-there-tonight-ready. Just the thought of it made my core muscles clench, and for a moment I let myself imagine his dark head between my thighs, his tongue performing that butterfly stroke he was so famous for in high school. Then he’d pick his head up, his perfect mouth wet and shiny, and he’d lick his lips as he dragged that toned swimmer’s body up mine until I felt his hard--

Okay, I needed to stop.

My bikini bottoms were wet and I hadn’t even gotten in the pool yet.

I got out of my car, scooping up my purse and phone, and locked it up. The music, some kind of thump-and-grind R & B, got louder as I approached Ben’s house. Well, we didn’t have the same taste in music, that was for sure, but I was willing to overlook a few faults in Ben Simons--the more I thought about him, the more I hoped I hadn’t been mistaken about his invitation. If I walked in and he was on the couch making out with some college chick with a perfect blowout and a push-up bra, I was gonna be seriously disappointed.

As I passed Derek’s house, I heard the unmistakable high-pitched moaning noises he makes when he’s sexually excited. Even though we hadn’t gone all the way, he’d gotten off several times--too quickly, I might add--just by making out with me topless. I shuddered to think about his mother having to do his laundry, but I bet he’d just tossed those boxers and jeans into his hamper with everything else.

The lights were off, but he’d left his bedroom window open, and I rolled my eyes at the sound. His ridiculously loud whimpering had been annoying and unsexy even when I’d been the one underneath him, but hearing him out on the sidewalk was downright cringe-worthy. Ugh, how could I have even considered having sex with him? I don’t care how closely someone resembles Zac Efron, that kind of noise during sex is not acceptable. He sounded like a cat in heat.

I was just stepping onto Ben’s front porch when I heard Derek yell out.

“Oh, God, Marni...Yes!”

My jaw hit the cement. Marni? He’s dry-humping Marni, our manager at the video store? Or maybe he was really screwing her, I had no idea. But Marni was at least forty, with a smoker’s voice and complexion, and one lazy eye. Had he really gone from me to goddamn Marni?

It was sick, I knew, but I had to find out.

I left the porch and hurried to the side of Derek’s house, ditching my purse and sandals on the grass. After sidling through the rhododendron bushes (the soil was dry--I knew that fucker wouldn’t water them), I yanked and pushed on the trellis that climbed the brick wall to be sure it would hold me. Then I scaled it.

As I climbed, Derek kept up with the cat noises but I didn’t hear any rasps of pleasure from Marni. Guess he’s not doing it for her, either. When I was close enough, I grabbed the sill and leveled my eyes with the bottom of the screen. As my vision adjusted to the dark, Derek yelled out again.

“Natalie, oh God, yes, Natalie!”

What?! As Derek yowled his way to the big finish, I realized he was getting himself off, and thinking about Marni and me to do it.

“Ew,” I whispered. “Marni? Really?”

I could see him lying naked on his bed, jerking his dick with one fist and thumping his stupid Spiderman bedspread with the other. If he would just shut up, it might actually have been sort of hot because he was good-looking and had a nice body. But the sounds, ugh. And the fucking Spiderman sheets. Grow up, already. Move out of your mother’s house.

“Natalie?”

Ben’s voice startled me so much, I lost my footing on the trellis. “Shit!”

The noise inside Derek’s room stopped.

Oh my God, get down, get down, get down before he sees you spying on him. Frantically, I searched for a foothold and scrambled down, my face on fire. How the hell was I going to explain myself to Ben? I reached the bottom, backed up through the bushes, and turned to face him.

“I thought I saw you on the porch. What are you doing?” He wore swim trunks, which hung low enough on his hips for me to see the slanting V-cut of his lower abs, and an unbuttoned plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up. If my pulse hadn’t already been pounding from fright, the sight of him would have set it racing.

“Um, I heard something, and I wanted to see--I mean, I thought I might have left something here earlier, and I...oh, fuck.” I slapped my hands over my face. “How do I get myself into these situations?”

“This happens to you often?”

“Yes--I mean, no, not this exactly, but I’m not good at thinking things through before I act. I tend to be...impulsive. You know, I get an idea in my head and just go with it, without thinking about the consequences.”

Ben nodded. “Like the knee in the balls.”

I snapped my fingers. “Exactly.”

“Or the spying on boys in their bedrooms.”

Wincing, I nodded. “That too.”

“Ever spy on me?”

The mood changed instantly. “Maybe.”

“You don’t remember?”

I shrugged. “It’s possible. I spy on a lot of boys.”

“Oh, you’d remember me.”

Arching a brow, I lowered my chin and met his eyes. “Would I?”

“Mmmhmm.” He moved toward me, and I backed up through the bushes again until I hit the brick wall. Placing a hand on either side of my face, he set his hips against mine. “You know, when you were up there I could see up your skirt.”

From the feel of his erection on my stomach, I was guessing he liked what he saw. “Oh?” I was dying to get my hands on him, but for once, I told myself not to move too fast. Instead, I flattened my palms on the bricks behind me.

He nodded and brought his mouth so close to mine I could feel his breath on my lips. “I’ve always liked your legs. I used to watch you run track and imagine what they’d look like naked.”

Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her lipstick red, and her history with the naughty bits left in. Unhealthy obsessions include (but are not limited to) Mad Men, The Tudors, Game of Thrones, Boardwalk Empire, and Downton Abbey, although she wishes it were more HBO and less PBS. She lifts her glass to NA readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI.
Her debut Historical NA, SPEAK EASY, is available now.

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Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Meet the Naturals: Tamara Mataya

Part Two of our story is written by Tamara Mataya, a prolific NA writer. Look for her books soon! If you haven't read Part One, please read it first. Don't forget to stick around to the end for a chance to win awesome prizes.

The Boy Next Door (Pt. 2)
Captain of the school’s swim team, he’d never had to chase anyone for dates. One look at him in his speedo and every girl’s panties had pretty much torn themselves off. Including a couple of the younger members of the faculty, if the rumors were true.

He still had the body, displayed by the fact that he hadn’t found a shirt to put on with the jeans he wore. “I’ve got it, thanks.” I roughly unlocked the door to prove my point, which he ignored as he leaned against it, blocking my exit.

“You sure you don’t need help?”

I wanted to lick from there to there in the ridges between his abs, but I kept the ogling to my peripherals. Former crush or not, his blatant eye-fucking was a tad presumptuous. Still, I arched my back. “Thanks for the offer, but you’re sort of impeding my dramatic exit. So. If you wouldn’t mind?” I made a shooing motion at his hip.

He stared harder at my face. “How do I know you?”

How to answer this gem? Coolly, flirtily, aloofly? Truthfully? The bare appraisal as he looked me up and down decided it. I mirrored his casual posture and licked my lips. “What makes you think you know me?”

He leaned closer. “Hard to forget a mouth like that.”

Maybe the day wasn’t a total loss after all.

His eyes lit up and he straightened. “Natalie Baker! Right?”

Surprise that he knew my name flashed through me, but I covered it with a slow smile. “That’s right.” Should I admit that I knew him too?

He lightly slapped the hood. “You kneed Coach Jensen in the balls and told him and the rest of the supervision staff to go fuck themselves!”

Ah. Fuck. When Ben said he remembered my mouth, he meant the string of profanities I’d been littering the street with on the way to my car. Not my luscious lips. Sophomore year, the coach had seen me sneaking a puff from my senior friend’s cigarette at break. I would have meekly gone with him to the principal’s office if he hadn’t gotten handsy with my arm. Things degenerated from there. Ultimately, the coach had gone on leave for about a month.

Buzz had been garnered, but I hadn’t known it had reached Ben’s link in the social food chain. Feeling less sexy, I straightened and tried not to blush. “That was years ago. I’m surprised you remember.”

“He was puking on the sidewalk while you were getting dragged to the office. I’ve never heard anyone swear that creatively – before or since. It was epic. Guy was a total creeper and a nightmare in training, completely brutal to us. He’d overwork us before meets, blew out a couple guys’ legs, ruined their chances at being seen by scouts. The whole swim team got a bit of a break because of you. Your knee was celebrated. I’m Ben by the way. Ben Simons.” He offered his hand. I took it. He didn’t let go. And I’m back in the game! “What brings you to my neighborhood?”

I bit back a smile. “My car.” Derek who? “I didn’t know you lived here, Ben.”

He grinned and released my hand. “I’m back from school, visiting the parents.”

“Ah. You and the abs, hanging on the porch?”

“You and the knee out for a stroll, taking out creepers?”

“The knee’s retired.” Was he this laid-back and easy to talk to all along? I never dared to approach him in school. Maybe he was.

“Are you going to school anywhere?”

My most hated question, because I feel like a loser for not getting the grades to get a scholarship and not having the means to do it on my own. Or the interest, but no one wants to hear that. “Nope. Working here and there.”

“Nice. So you still live in town then?”

“Unfortunately.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. It’s a pretty cool place.”

I’ll file that under the ‘agree to disagree’ column. “Sure. If you’re really into decoupage and alcoholism.”

He laughed. “Speaking of the latter, what are your plans for tonight?”

“Not sure yet.” I tossed my hair, hoping I looked more vampy than spastic. “Why?”

“I’m having a little party. Nothing major, but it could pick up if you’re there.” His voice dropped as he stepped back on the sidewalk, no longer blocking my door. “You should come.” Mmm. If you keep talking to me with that tone, I just might.

Time to play it cool. “Oh, I don’t know. How low key are we talking? I might have to give it a pass if it’s just four of your friends and you playing RockBand all night.”

“No RockBand.”

“Or Xbox?”

He stepped toward me. “No gaming systems at all. Cross my heart.” He drew a cross on his chest, and I had trouble tearing my eyes away. Do want.

I feigned suspicion. “Not even any LARPing?”

“I hate games.”

“Me too.” I dropped my gaze to his feet and let it crawl up his body. By the time I reached his eyes, a smile had formed on my face. I reached into my purse and handed him my phone. “Give me your number.” He punched it in and handed it back. “Should I bring anything?”

He winked. “Ten o’clock. Bring that knee of yours. Some guys from the swim team will be there and would love to meet the girl attached to it.”

“Anything else?”

“I’ve got a keg coming, and there will be plenty of liquor and snacks.”

“I’d hate to show up empty handed.” The better to grab you with. I pulled the key from the door and got in my car.

As my car roared to life on the first try for once, he knocked on the window. I rolled it down.

“There’s an amazing pool. Bring a bathing suit. It might get wet.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Ben. It would have to be a pretty exciting party for that.”

Smiling at his laughter, I pulled away from the curb.

Tamara Mataya is currently a librarian; she lurked there for so long recommending books to patrons and shushing people, that she suspects they only hired her so it would be less creepy. Now she’s armed with a name tag, and a thin veneer of credibility. She’s also a musician with synaesthesia – which isn't an issue until someone plays a wrong note, which makes her want to squirm inside out. It makes for a good live show.
She is represented by Marisa Cleveland of The Seymour Agency.  


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